#and this is the first time in years I’ve been able to make art semi-consistently

[golden-stag]

Thinking about making an illustration for the holidays but I have no idea if I should do a serious one or something silly-

… Or even if I should make it summer or winter themed

[pencilnewt]

I dont think I have seen somebody draw as beautifully as you have, really.

The colors you use to draw make the photograph, as does the shadowing. And your ideas? Genius.

How did you learn all this great technique? Was that something you have always done or did you just start drawing?

I hope I could just tell you how amazing your art is to me (and many others)✨

thank you so much omfg!!

it’s definitely taken a lot of time and practice, i didn’t just wake up one day and know how to draw the way i do rn!! and im still learning all the time, im very self-taught!! gonna fish thru my instagram for a min and grab some screenshots of old art to demonstrate this in a sort of timeline but it feels very self-indulgent (which i try not to be too often haha) so it’s under the cut if anyone wants to see :3

i feel like im able to create something approaching the art i see in my head for the first time in my life and im SO grateful for any and all support people have given me while im doing that in a way i literally cannot express like i read EVERY SINGLE tag people leave on my art on here and it makes me want to fucking cry <3

quickly first of all i use CSP version 1 these days but over the past 9 years i’ve used nearly every free drawing program available - krita, 🏴‍☠️photoshop, firealpaca, autodesk sketchbook, ibis paint, medibang…

anyway some sketchbook drawings circa 2016/age 13 (earliest i have photos of, but i have one earlier sketchbook somewhere) at which point human anatomy was still an utter mystery to me:

got my first drawing tablet in 2017 - a little wacom intuos draw, which i don’t think they make anymore, but i still used it until about a year and a bit ago when i bought my xp-pen display tablet w my first paycheck. i think this was literally the first thing i drew on there:

a bit of a jump to 2019 (this is where i got my love for fuzzy chalky textures i think):

i try not to think about the dsmp era too much but that’s where i made some big strides (especially in my colouring) because i felt a lot of consistent motivation to draw!

& then spent a LOT of time doodling my dnd character over the past year & doing some other little reference studies when i could find the time between writing my undergrad dissertation etc. this helped me nail down drawing faces better than b4.

i’d doodled some hockey stuff on and of for the past couple of years but only started properly drawing or posting anything at the end of september!! gotta say a big THANK YOU to everyone who reblogged pens snoopy when i first posted him bc without the support from people on here i don’t think id have initially been so motivated to keep making this art that i’ve loved drawing so so much. and i’ve made friends & mutuals that i’m even more grateful for :3 1st vs most recent:

i have lots of things i wanna keep working on, here are some:

more detailed backgrounds & lighting (biggest barrier here is terrible Can’t Be Bothered syndrome)

recognisably simplifying/stylising people more!! i can do this a bit but my strength is defo semi-realism i feel

improving my composition/making it more intentional. this is the biggest reason behind making those stamp designs actually (could go into much more detail in another post about what’s behind lots of the hockey pieces i’ve made, if anyone would like to hear about that. there’s semi-often something im trying to specifically work on or practice)

more movement & dynamism!!

this is probably so obvious but i’m like. passively learning from looking at other artists’ work all the time as well as practicing. if i really like a piece of art i see online i’ll try and identify exactly WHY i like it so i can think about how i might improve my own art.

if you read this far i’m in love w you <3

[duskholland]

Crash Into You || Tom Holland Smut

ice hockey!tom x figure skater!reader — smut.

summary ↠ you can’t stand the ice hockey team. they’re loud, brutish, and incredibly annoying. it’s just inconvenient that you can’t seem to stop running into their star player, an irritatingly suave man called tom, nor deny the way your pulse quickens every time he’s around...   word count ↠ 20.2k. warnings ↠ mild depictions of sport-related injury including blood and nose breakage, a lot of bad language, some jealousy, and nsfw smut material! extended smut warnings are beneath the cut, but this is 18+ !!! minors dni.   a/n ↠ it’s funny because I tell myself I don’t like sport aus, yet this is somehow one of my favourite things that I’ve ever written...? the au is kinda ~obscure~ I guess, but it checked so many of my boxes whilst writing it, and I had a great time. it’s also the longest thing I’ve ever posted?! ahh !! I hope you’ll like dutchy, and give this a go even if you’re not really into hockey <3   —↠ there are so many different people that helped me out with this!!! in addition to all the wonderful anons that sent in ideas last month, I want to extend a huge thank you to @geminiparkers @tetralea @hollandharrison @honeyspidey @stixnstripesworld and @uglypastels for each helping out in some way, whether that be through brainstorming ideas, making incredible art, or teaching me about hockey and/or skating! <3<3 also—the biggest thank you ever to the lovely sammy @t-holland2080 for not disowning me after editing this for me and seeing my basic spelling errors lmfao. ily <3 hope you all enjoy !!

extra !! @uglypastels made two beautiful pieces of fanart for tom aka dutchy — you can view these here + here !!! @softholand​ also made an absolutely incredible moodboard based off the fic, and you can view that here :’) thank you to both of them for using their amazing artistic talents on this fic + making me literally like. the happiest writer on the planet :’) 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

extended smut warnings ↠ two sections of smut. this is a certified Horny Warmy™️ (thanks chlo for that category) so it’s very gentle, very wholesome. includes oral and fingering (fem-receiving) and protected MxF sex :’)

✧ *:･ﾟCrash Into You ･ﾟ:*✧

“Why are they always so noisy? How hard can it be to hit a bit of plastic?”

You laugh quietly, glancing at your friend, Yelena. She’s staring out across the rink, hands resting on the plastic barrier that lines the perimeter with irritation in her icy blue eyes. A warming blush tickles the apples of her cheeks, and it softens the expression of frustration that she wears so well.

“Seriously,” she adds. “Listen to them… It’s so… unpleasant.”

Your teeth catch your lower lip as you bring your gaze away from Yelena and instead onto the object of her anger: the hockey team.

Your eyes zip around the rink, watching as the players run through yet another drill. The team—Kingston Kites—, 20 in full, 7 currently on the ice, crash around the arena like a cyclone of a thousand moving calamitous parts. For the last few months, the practice rink at your sports centre has been closed, which has led to the pre-existing rivalry between the hockey team and your own team of figure skaters deepening. There have been arguments between your managers and theirs about which team gets priority over the exhibition rink. What’s emerged has been a bitter taste in the air. Simply put: the figure skating team dislikes the ice hockey team, and the feeling is mutual.

“I dunno,” you mutter. “I guess it means they’re working hard.”

The noises are rather distracting. You watch as the blurry figures, shrouded in the team colours of white, green, and orange, line up and take shot after shot at the small net on the ice. After each attempted shot on goal, the players have a tendency to release loud grunts and exclamations of exertion, and they echo around the empty arena. Whilst you agree with Yelena that the noises are irritating, a small part of you also admires their commitment.

“Perhaps.” Yelena steps back from the side and starts to stretch her arms. You do the same. There’s a fifteen-minute overlap in the scheduled slots on ice when the figure skating team uses half the rink to warm up as the hockey team uses the other to cool down. After the fifteen minutes play out, the Zamboni skims out the cuts in the rink, and the hockey team finally leaves you alone. It’s not ideal to share the rink, but every second you can spend practising helps. “I can’t stand them.”

You smile softly, slowly rotating your right arm as you warm up the muscles. “I know,” you agree. “You always complain about them.”

She scowls, eyes glistening with fierce irritation. “Because they’re annoying. So dramatic and messy.”

“Mmm, well, I don’t think they’re very fond of us either,” you respond. You bend over, slowly rubbing your fingers over the bandage you have wrapped around your right ankle. “Did you hear about Jenna and Lou in the gym last week?”

“No. What happened?”

You sit down on the cool floor of the arena, thankful for the many layers you’re wearing. As you slowly start to massage your ankle, you glance up at your friend.

“They got interrupted by a couple of the guys. Uh, Osterfield and Barrett? They wanted to do a weights competition or something.”

Yelena scoffs. “Losers.”

You smirk. “They won, though. Lou and Jen. Apparently, the guys stormed out. Couldn’t take getting beaten by a couple of skaters.”

Your friend cackles then offers you a hand up. You grunt as you stand and steady yourself, glancing down at your skates and checking the laces. A loud buzzer goes off, and you hear a few yells of disgruntlement come off the ice as the players realise it’s the end of their solo practice and the start of your turn on the rink too.

“Can’t wait to get out there,” Yelena murmurs, eyes sparkling. You nod in agreement and crack your knuckles in anticipation.

Together, you walk over to the small gate in the side of the rink, joining the line with the rest of your team. Ten of you make up the competitive figure skating team, and all of you wear varying articles of black, thermal clothing. You’re in a pair of leggings, a long-sleeved thermal shirt, and a loose burgundy t-shirt, drifting over the top. The cold doesn’t bother you as much as it used to, but that’s only through the years you’ve spent gliding around at sub-zero temperatures.

You sigh happily as you inhale a breath of the frozen air that hangs crispy above the rink. You step onto the ice, closing your eyes as you skate forwards, your body supported effortlessly by the skates you wear so well.

There’s a line of bright red cones set out across the middle of the ice, sectioning off the hockey players from the rest of you. You smile to yourself as you risk a glance across the rink and take stock of a few of the players, huddled together, grunting and exchanging low words of irritation. They look very funny, wearing various layers of thick padding and helmets—less formal than they’d be at a match, but still dressed up enough to mean business. You feel them staring at you, glaring and bemoaning the fact they have to share the rink, but you let it brush off you like water.

“Y/N! Show me your cannonball. Weren’t you working on it?” Yelena’s back, skimming to rest beside you, plaited blonde hair hanging in two bunches either side of her face. You nod, pushing off and checking the ice is clear ahead of you before skating into a space.

Nothing beats the rush of adrenaline that comes with skating. You think that you’re addicted to it now. The charge of the nervous build-up, followed by the relief of the payoff never gets old. Your fears of failure get swept away the moment you sink into the ultra-focused headspace of an athlete, and the buzz of reward you get every time you land a move perfectly trumps the blood, sweat and tears that such an unforgiving sport has taken from you. You wouldn’t be able to quit skating, even if you wanted to.

A cannonball sit spin is one of the hardest spins in your repertoire, and the element that has been giving you the most grief in your show routine. This season, you’re competing in the national circuit for solo ice dance. It’s not your first time taking on the competition—in fact, consistently over the last few years, you’ve been ranking higher each time you compete. Last year you finished third, and so this year, your eyes are fixed very firmly on the prize. You know securing first place in the competition will attract the Olympic scouts’ attention, and that’s your greatest dream.

Moving quickly, you skate in a brief semi-circle to build momentum before getting low, resting on one leg as you stretch the other out in front of you. Your hands curve around the ankle of your extended leg, and you use the energy to carry you into a spin, the fresh air wafting off the ice and cooling your cheeks. It carries out for a few seconds, then you have to concentrate as you exit the manoeuvre, brows creasing as you continue to turn. You end in a standing spin, arms held out as you slowly bring them back into your sides and end elegantly with a little bow.

Yelena claps, cheering from across the ice. “Fuck, Y/N, that looks perfect now,” she calls out. “Wouldn’t ever be able to tell that it was causing you trouble— oh, look out!”

Your eyes are only just beginning to widen in response to her concern when you feel a very strong figure slam into you, hurtling at top speed and taking you both down onto the ice. You don’t need to see anything beyond a flash of white, orange and green to know that it’s a fucking hockey player, and the ache of getting thrown to the hard ground is quickly overcome by the anger that replaces everything else.

“Oh, shit,” you hear a gruff voice say.

You groan as you try to sit up, opening your eyes just to see that the player is crumpled on top of you. Your chest feels heavy from where he’s laying sprawled over you, and you glance down to look at his face, a scowl holding tight over your features.

Despite the helmet and the visor sticking over the top of his face, you’re able to make out a few details of the man. He seems to be around your age, his skin pale but flushed warm from the cold and such a vigorous practice. The brown depths of his eyes swell with concern and guilt, pairing nicely with the regretful smile that pangs across his thin pink lips. You get a peek at his brown hair sticking out from beneath his helmet, and can’t quite stop your eyes from catching on the hard line of his impressive jaw.

“You idiot,” you mutter, shaking off the daze that comes with admiring such a handsome stranger. “Did you even look where you were going before deciding you were going to try and kill me?”

The man’s eyebrows shoot up, his expression of concern burning into irritation as he scowls at you.

“Fucking hell,” he replies. His accent twangs prominently, cool and unyielding. “It was an accident, darling.”

You grunt, rapidly scooting back across the ice the moment he’s clambered off you. He sits across from you, brushing at the pads on his knees as he stares at you remorsefully. You can’t tell if he’s pouting at you or the shards of ice messing up his knees.

“An accident is brushing into someone, not slamming them onto the ice,” you mutter. Bitterness sweeps into your voice. “Twat.”

“Alright, alright.” He throws his hands into the air and leans closer. “I’m sorry. Okay?”

You draw your lips into a tight-lipped frown and look away, ignoring him as you try to stand, only to end up wincing as pain shoots up your bad ankle. “Fuck,” you whisper, your irritation growing stronger as you try to rotate your foot and feel the pain thicken.

Opposite you, the man clambers to his feet, getting his bearings on his skates before begrudgingly sliding up you. Your eyes take in his figure, running the lines of his stocky form. It’s always hard to tell what the guys look like beneath the padding and the helmets, but he doesn’t look as tall as you’d expected when he was laying on top of you. He’s smaller than the rest of them, but you have a suspicion he can probably move remarkably fast. How else would he have been able to take you out so easily?

He offers you a gloved hand, staring at you through cold eyes. “C’mon,” he urges, when you do nothing but stare at his palm. “Let me help you up. It’s the least I can do.”

You eye him suspiciously, but you know you won’t be able to get up without some assistance. A brief glance at your team around you suggests they’re all watching your exchange, intrigued. So, you swallow your pride, grit your teeth, and slip your hand into his glove, digging your skates into the ice as he helps you back to your feet. A short hiss of pain falls through your lips as your ankle throbs. When your leg threatens to buckle, the man moves in closer and grabs at your waist.

“Woah!” he exclaims, holding you up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you mutter, trying to steady yourself, “no thanks to you.”

You hear him release an exasperated sigh, and he lets you shake yourself free, but his hand drifts down to pull at your arm and hold you back when you try to skate off.

“What do you want?” you snap, tension in your voice. Beneath the visor, you can make out the guilt dusting his face, but you’re too focused on your recurring injury to pay it much mind.

“I’m sorry,” he tries. “I am.”

You pull your arm free again, and you hear a few hoots drift over from the other side of the rink. The word Dutchy rises louder, and you watch his expression twitch with irritation.

“Whatever,” you reply. You skate backwards, moving away from him, only relaxing when you feel one of your friends link her arm with yours. “Just forget about it.”

The hockey player looks as though he wants to argue with you, but when you harden your glare, he seems to let it go. He shoots you a very tight-lipped smile, mouth puffing a little with air, and then he picks up the discarded hockey stick and skates back to the other side of the rink. Your eyes briefly flutter over the bright text of Holland before he disappears, being enveloped back into the fold of raucous players as you sink into your friend’s side.

“Are you okay?” she whispers, touch far gentler than his had been.

You grimace, looking down at your ankle. “Yeah,” you reply, frowning sourly. Your eyes lift up across the rink, and you let yourself scowl. “Just pissed off.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Following the incident, and an incredibly bad skating practise, you find yourself reprimanded by your coach and put on bed rest for a few days so you can rest your ankle. It’s hard not to blame the distracted hockey player, but you know you probably had it coming. You’ve been walking the knife’s edge for several weeks with your injury, and as much as you hate to admit it, the time off is necessary.

The moment you’re allowed back on the ice, you’re there in a heartbeat. The training arena also operates as a commercial venue, and there are different slots available during the day for the general public to skate. After receiving the thumbs up from the team physiotherapist, you immediately turn up to one of the open slots available to the public, hoping to brush up on a few things before you rejoin your team in the morning.

For the first ten minutes of your practice, things go well. Your ankle is better for a few days off, and you’re able to sink back into your routine and get back to focusing on the gnarly parts that always throw you in a loop. It isn't too busy either, so there’s room to skate around and feel the air running over your face. It’s easy to get lost in it, your chest full of a lightness you’d spent the last few days bed-bound and dreaming of.

You take a break to drink some water after a while, leaning up against the barrier at the edge of the rink and bending over it to rummage through your bag. When you feel a presence behind you, you stand up, glancing back expecting to see a stranger, and feeling your eyes widen as instead, you recognise the man.

He looks very different without the shoulder pads and the rest of his ridiculous costume, but it’s him: Holland, the hockey player responsible for your skating ban. Still tall, and perched on hockey skates, but more relaxed. Like you, he’s wrapped up warmly, with a tight black thermal shirt curled around his arms, and another t-shirt resting over the top. His brown hair flies freely, bouncy and slightly curled, and his eyes are soft.

“Hi,” he says, biting at his thin lower lip. “Do you remember me?”

You frown as you skate to be in front of him, nodding slowly. “The guy that smashed me into the ice the other day?” you tease, voice cool. “Of course. How could I ever forget?”

You watch as his face darkens in shade, his eyes flickering down to your leg. “I’m, uh, Tom,” he leads with. “I saw you skating and I just wanted to see how you were doing… I haven’t seen you at practice in a few days, and I was, uh… sort of worried I’d seriously hurt you.”

Tom looks at you like he’s scared of you, and you have to bite back a smile as you wonder if you were too harsh on him the other day.

“Hmm.” You cross your arms over your chest and inspect him, gaze following how pronounced his biceps look, pushing up against his shirt. “Well, I was benched for a week.”

He curses softly, accented voice sounding out of place speaking such vulgarity.

“I’m sorry,” Tom says. He looks as though he means it, too. Shoulders sagged, eyes concerned, lower lip bitten red. “I promise, love, it wasn’t intentional. If I could go back in time and stop myself from behaving like such an inconsiderate twat, I would.”

You giggle slightly, unable to disguise the glee that comes with hearing him call himself a twat. You watch as his eyebrows arch up, confusion replacing his sincerity as he slowly crosses his arms over his chest. You’re still irritated by the situation, but you’re no longer incensed. It’s hard to harbour a grudge whilst he’s pouting so acutely.

“Well, Tom, I forgive you,” you say, voice lighter. He releases a deep breath, and you nod to affirm your point. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” Instinctively, you offer him a hand and find a shiver rolling down your back as his warm palm presses up against yours. Tom’s grip is firm and grounding, and his skin is a lot softer than you’d expected.

“Y/N is a nice name,” he says, voice perkier. His eyes seem more alive, and you don’t miss the way he takes in your form with an inquisitive gaze.

Your lips twist into a smirk. “I’ve already forgiven you, you can turn off the charm now.”

Tom shrugs, eyes glinting cheekily. “It’s not charm, darling,” he returns. “This is just who I am.” It seems to be true, too. He’s a lot bolder now the air between you has cleared, no longer looking like he wants to melt through the ice.

You snort loudly and feel your heart quicken when he smiles. “Well, Tom, what are you doing here?” You quirk an eyebrow. “Don’t you guys practice in the mornings?”

“Yeah,” Tom agrees. He breaks off as he looks over his shoulder and waves a hand at the near-deserted ice. “Coach said I need to work on my sprints, though, and it’s a lot easier to do that without the rest of the team hanging around.”

“Makes sense,” you say, deviously deciding you want to see how far you can push him. “You hockey guys are always so slow on the ice.”

Tom’s jaw drops, and you watch as he straightens up and stands a little taller. He meets the challenge directly, and you can’t deny it—it’s attractive. The way he squares his jaw, flares his nostrils and hardens his gaze is hot.

“Fuck you,” he says, voice light, “I’m definitely faster than you.”

You smirk. “As if,” you quip. You raise a hand, twirling a finger around in the lazy direction of the centre of the rink. “Show me what you’ve got. I might give you some pointers if I’m feeling nice.”

Tom releases a very loud laugh, the skin by his eyes crinkling into fine lines. “You’re hilarious, love,” he responds. “Like a figure skater is going to be able to teach me anything of importance.”

It’s your turn to laugh, and you cross your arms as you stand a little straighter. “That’s bold talk from someone who doesn’t look where he’s going,” you tease. You run a hand through your hair, eyeing him closely. “I could easily beat you in any skating-related activity, and I wouldn’t even break a sweat.”

Tom tilts his head to the side, seeming to feed into the idea of a challenge just as much as you. There’s something about him that fires you up the right way—a shared competitiveness that burns as brightly in you as it clearly does in him. It overpowers everything else, taking over, enticing you into letting go of any residual resentment and embracing the chance to beat him.

“How about we put your bragging to the test, darling?” he suggests, tongue tracing his lower lip. His eyes flutter around the curves of your mouth. “A few races, just to see who’s really better.”

You don’t hesitate to nod. “Sure, Tom,” you agree. “But don’t be too pissy when I beat you.”

There’s something endearingly irritating about how confident he is as he smirks at you and leans forward to briefly rest a hand on your shoulder. “Same to you, Y/N,” he responds. “I know it’s annoying to lose.”

You just shake your head, scoffing as you push away from him and move down to the end of the rink. He follows you, coming to a stop on his chunky skates beside you.

“First one to the other side wins,” you announce, reaching back to rest a hand on the barrier. You tilt your head and stare at him until he does the same. “Ready?”

“Mhmm.”

“3, 2, 1, go!”

It’s slightly ridiculous how badly you want to beat him, but there’s just something so infuriating about Tom. Your competitiveness burns in your chest, makes your blood boil and your hands clench into fists, and you find your eyes zeroing in on the opposite side of the rink as tunnel-vision encroaches. You block him and everything else out, your desire to win taking over as you swiftly launch across the ice, skates clipping the surface with metallic sounds as you sprint it. You don’t break—you don’t give up, slow down, or even turn back until you’re slamming into the barrier at the other side, turning around just in time to see Tom come in behind you, lagging about a second behind.

“Shit,” Tom mutters, grimacing.

You smirk. “Told you I’d beat you.”

Tom pulls a sour face, and it makes you giggle. “Best of three?” he offers. “C’mon, Y/N.” His elbow nudges against your side. “I’m still warming up.”

“Alright,” you agree. “But for the record, I still won.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tom mutters, shooting you a sly smile. “Just you wait.”

You win best of three skating forwards, but Tom manages to snag a victory when it comes to speed skating backwards. You can’t take the smirk of triumph on his face, so you offer up a third competition, yearning to prove yourself.

“Can you do an axel?” you ask. Your eyes drift down to his heavy hockey skates. “Or are your boots too chunky and annoying?”

Tom’s face twitches with doubt, but he’s quick to smooth it away. “Fuck yeah,” he states boldly. “I can do anything you can do.” If he doubts the truth of his words, he doesn’t let it show. “Just, uh… Show me how you do it first.”

You have the suspicion he can’t remember what an axel is, so you decide to oblige him.

“Alright,” you agree, boosting away from him. His eyes follow you, and their presence on your figure brings a hidden smile to your face. “Watch this.”

You perform the trick easily. An axel is the simplest of all the jumps, and it gives you no bother to glide forwards, leap into the air, do a swift, neat turn, then land on your back foot gracefully. You could probably do it with your eyes closed.

“There!” you announce, smile on your face.

Tom gulps nervously.

“Easy,” he says, voice slightly quieter. You cross your arms and watch, incredibly amused, to see how far he’ll take his act before giving up. Tom skates forward, confident in his movements, eyes focused, eyebrows furrowed. He takes his time, failing to do anything beyond skating in a straight line before he suddenly, jerkily, attempts the trick.

Time moves in slow motion. It’s with a combination of glee and horror that you watch him fail spectacularly, doing a rotation of approximately 180 degrees before slipping on the return to the rink and landing flat on the ice, groaning loudly. The few of the people sharing the rink with you look around, concerned, and you’re quick to skate over to him, biting your lip guiltily.

“Well,” you say, stopping in front of him. Tom’s still on the ice, arms crossed, glaring angrily at his skates. “I admire you for trying.”

His attention shifts up to you, and his scowl intensifies. “Whatever,” he mumbles. There’s an element of amusement in his eyes, and he takes your hand when you extend it out towards him. Tom’s heavy, but he springs up easily, his fingers tangled in yours and jerking you a little closer. “That was way harder than it looked.”

You hum, and then gulp as he drops your hand. He’s near to you, breath crystallising into a cloud of icy fog in front of you. Your eyes glide over the spray of brown freckles on his face before skimming down the curved line of his nose until you can admire his mouth.

“Well, it is a sport,” you say, voice a little tight. You clear your throat, shaking yourself from your funk as you realise you’re just staring at his lips. “Just like… Like hockey is a sport. I know we make fun of it, but I doubt me or anyone else on the team could play like you guys do.”

Tom seems to enjoy the praise, standing with a little more confidence as you finish speaking. He nods, then brings two slender fingers up to nimbly scratch at his chin.

“Have you ever tried it?” he asks.

“Not properly.”

Tom smirks. “Well, we need to change that. Go down the end, I’ll grab a net.”

You don’t know how he manages to convince the supervisors of the free skate to let the two of you set up an attack zone in the end segment of the rink, but you don’t question it. The sight of Tom reappearing, haphazardly balancing a net, a hockey stick, and a puck in his arms makes you smile, and you briefly think about how easy it's been for your resentment to melt away. There’s something about him that’s incredibly warm, and you don’t dispute the realisation that he’d probably make a good friend.

“Right,” Tom announces. He’s set up the net and shown you how to hold the plastic stick. Now, both of you are staring at the puck, black and stark against the scratched white ice. “Just hit it.”

You glance up at him, sceptical. “Surely there’s more to it than that.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t know what I’m working with until I see you take a hit at it, darling.”

You nod. The stick feels unfamiliar between your hands, but you’re determined to make a better show of it than Tom when he tried to do the axel. After staring at the small open area of the net, you grit your teeth and hit it, watching with widening eyes as the puck soars wide out to the left.

Tom cackles.

“Well… That was an attempt,” he says. His grin doesn’t falter at all, even when you turn around to glare at him.

“Teach me, then,” you quip, scrunching up your nose playfully.

Tom hums, and you watch as he briefly skates away after the puck. You can’t stop yourself from staring at him as he bends over, the bottom of his shirt briefly riding up and exposing the printed band of his boxers. The words Calvin Klein burn into the back of your eyes, still lingering there as he turns and skates back to you. You blink rapidly, shame burning at your face as you try to look more like you’re focused, and less like you can’t stop your eyes from gravitating towards his figure.

He drops the puck back on the ice, just in front of your stick. “Your angle was wrong,” Tom says. “Show me your hands again.” When you do as instructed, he frowns and shakes his head. “No, it’s… It’s more like, your top hand higher, and the lower more angled… Uh… No, no, no. Can I just touch you?”

“Okay,” you squeak, standing a little straighter.

Tom skates forward, resting behind you. He doesn’t hesitate to carefully wrap his arms around you from behind, slender fingers curling over your hands and repositioning them on the stick. You feel like you’ve been electrified—eyes wide, skin responding to his touch. His breath, warm and minty, wafts across the side of your face, and you realise you’re holding your breath.

“Yeah...just like that,” he coos, voice a little softer. He squeezes your hands before letting them go. “Give it another go.”

You swallow back your nerves as you nod, waiting until Tom’s drifted back to hit the puck. You can’t stop yourself from smiling when it goes sailing into the back of the net, and Tom lets out a loud hoot.

“Fuck yeah!” he exclaims, laughing gleefully. “Look at that!”

You glance back at him, enjoying the expression of pride that finds his features. “Pretty good, right?” you say, playing it cool.

“Spectacular, darling.” Tom’s nodding, face alight. “Let’s step it up a notch.”

He brings you through a few drills, and you find yourself enjoying the game despite your early blunder. Before you know it, there’s the sound of a buzzer ringing, signalling that there are five minutes left of your session together. Tom rises to the challenge, announcing that he wants to end by watching you skate at the goal and shoot a point whilst moving. You fail at your first three attempts, unable to coordinate moving the stick, the puck and yourself without something going askew.

“Show me again,” you whine, growing conscious of the timer ticking down.

Tom skates closer, gliding easily with his hands behind his back. His thin lips wear his smirk well.

“Just visualise it, darling,” he says. “Believe in yourself, and you’ll do it.” He pauses, eyes skimming over you. “I believe in you.”

You nod. “Okay.”

“Follow my line in.”

Tom skates backwards, beckoning you forwards with outstretched hands and a smile like you’re a toddler he’s teaching to walk. He leads your attack, mapping out your path before shifting out of the way just in time for you to successfully skate and hit the puck into the back of the net. His expression clears into relief, but as you start to celebrate, it’s quick to fall flat. You watch, eyes widening, as Tom gets distracted by you and drifts backwards into the goal, skates getting tangled in the netting. You lunge forward to try and catch him, only to make the situation a thousand times worse as you crash into him, grabbing at his shirt just as he manages to steady himself.

It feels like a cruel trick of fate. A repetition of the past, just, instead of Tom tackling you to the ground, it’s you that manages to slam him back onto the ice. It’s more comfortable this time around, though. For you. Tom’s chest is a lot warmer and softer than the ice.

“Fuck,” Tom groans. His face twists into an aching expression, then his eyes slowly blink open. As you make contact with his brown orbs, you’re surprised to see amusement shift across them. “Oh, how the tables have turned.”

You snort, taking stock of how muscly his front feels. You’re sprawled out completely over him, face suspended above his, Tom’s palms holding your waist. It’s intimate, especially when he reaches up with one hand and pushes your hair from your face so he can peer at you better. You can’t stop your eyes from going straight to his lips.

“S-sorry,” you stammer, voice breathless. You admire the way his hair is spread out around his head, bold against the ice like a halo. “I don’t know what happened.”

“‘S okay.” Tom’s quieter too. His gaze circles quickly between your eyes and your mouth. There’s something cockier about him, and you know the way you’re clinging to the front of his shirt has something to do with it. “I think you fell for me. Again.”

He’s leaning in. You start to do it, too, even go as far as to let your eyes drift close. He gets so close that you can almost feel the warm outline of his lips, brushing against yours, but then there’s the loud noise of a buzzer vibrating through the air. As the sound dies, it serves to signal the end of such a tender moment, as well as the end of the session.

You startle and push off him as you shoot him an apologetic grin.

“Sorry,” you say. You’re shaking a little, but you hope he puts it down to shock. You manage to clamber up and offer him your hands.

Tom accepts your help, and he groans as you help him up.

“It’s fine, Y/N,” he says, pausing to shake out his legs and slide forward. He swings your palms through the air, squeezing at your fingers as he very gently twirls you beneath his arm, then moves in nearer. “Accidents happen. I’m not surprised you wanted to be on top of me.”

All you can do is laugh and hope Tom can’t tell how he makes the base thrumming of your heart pick up.

“As if,” you return. You glance down at your intertwined fingers and feel your heart pang. “A hockey player? I could never.”

Tom just smiles, then squeezes your hands before letting them slip from his grasp. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs. He nudges your shoulder then shifts away, off in the direction of the net. “You know there’s no one that could give you as good a time as me.” He’s joking—it’s obvious in the cadence of his voice, the smile on his face. But why does it feel so layered?

“Ha ha,” you respond, skating over to him. When you notice him struggling, you dart forward and grab the net, slinging it over a shoulder. You glance back, arching an eyebrow as you decide to test the water. “I have had fun, though,” you add. “With you.”

Tom tilts his head to the side, ruffling up his hair with a hand. His smile lights up his entire face.

“Me too.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Almost a week passes, and though you don’t see Tom again, he’s certainly on your mind. You find yourself thinking about him all too much, considering he’s a hockey player, and it goes against the team ethos you’ve been surrounded by.

One day, after practice, you end up sitting on a bench outside the rink, waiting on Yelena as she finishes talking with one of your coaches. Bored and curious, you pull out your phone and decide to open Instagram. All around the arena are banners advertising the hockey team’s social media, and you find yourself drawn to the official account with a few easy taps. You start to scroll through the feed, eager eyes skimming over every face until you find the one you’re looking for.

It’s Tom, from last season, clutching the victory trophy in his hands as he’s held on his team’s shoulders. His face is animated, pulled wide in a large grin as he stares at the camera, the skin by his eyes pulled into smile lines. He’s tagged in it, so, curious, you click through and look at his profile. Unsurprisingly, it’s set to public, and you’re careful as you scroll down.

His photos are exactly what you’d expect—a collection of team photos, action shots, and gym selfies. Typical hockey player, but the longer you spend staring at one of his selfies, the cuter he seems to get. Trying to shake yourself out of the daze, you scroll back up, thumb absently wandering over to his Following list. Your eyes widen as you see your profile, at the very top of the accounts.

Tom follows you…?

Brows furrowing, you flip onto your own account, double-checking this new fact by typing out his username in your followers tab. He pops up, at the top, and you sit back, blinking.

Interesting.

After taking a brief moment to compose yourself, you go back to his profile and follow him. You start to flick through his story from the day. You get about halfway through when a shadow casts over your figure. You glance up, expecting to see Yelena, only to startle when it’s Tom.

“Hi,” he offers, raising a hand in greeting. You blink a few times in quick succession, glancing between your phone which shows a mirror selfie from him shirtless in the gym to where he’s now standing in front of you, burgundy hoodie on, flask in hand. You immediately turn your phone off.

“Oh, u-uh, hi,” you say, voice suddenly thick. He tilts his head to the side, an amused smile finding his lips as he sees you flustered. “What… What are you doing here?”

“I was in the gym,” he says, telling you information you already know. “Saw you down here on my way out, thought I’d say hi.” He rocks back on his feet, looking a little nervous. “I, uh… Keep thinking about last week. On the ice.”

“Oh?” Tom nods. He hesitates, and you realise he’s just awkwardly standing in front of you. “Wait,” you say, shuffling up the bench. “Sit.”

He perches on the wooden slats beside you, offering you his flask. “It’s hot chocolate,” he says, cheeks blushing slightly.

“After the gym?” you return, arching a brow.

Tom smiles. “Fuck yeah,” he says, pressing the flask into your hand. “It’s good, trust me. And, uh, I don’t have any germs or anything. I think.”

You snort, clicking the top open as you look at him over the brim. “Well, I wouldn’t mind catching anything from you,” you say, speaking before you have time to process the words.

Tom’s eyebrows soar up his forehead, a short chuckle leaving his lips as you hide your embarrassment behind the metal flask. The burn of revealing such a humiliating thought is quickly soothed away as you taste the deliciously sweet liquid.

“Well?” Tom coaxes, stretching an arm up as he scratches the back of his neck. His hoodie smells of fresh fabric conditioner. “Good, eh?”

Begrudgingly, you nod. “Yeah,” you say, shooting him a soft smile. Trying to move on the conversation, you return to what he’d said before sitting down. “Uh, what was that you said? About last week?”

Tom nods, seeming a little less apprehensive now to speak to you after your enthusiastic praise. “I was just thinking about how fun it was to skate around with you. It sort of made me regret not getting your number, darling.”

Your lips twitch slightly. “You can have my number if you want, Tom,” you say, speaking softly. His eyes are so pretty up close. “And I’d be down doing it again. I’m free every Wednesday afternoon.”

He nods his head, curls bouncing from the enthusiasm. You pass him back the flask, carefully angling your phone away from him as you unlock it, quickly exit from Instagram, then open up contacts. You watch him input his number, tongue between his lips as his brows furrow. He curses softly as he messes up the numbers and has to backspace a few times, and you have to focus hard on not letting your face betray how cute you find the whole interaction.

He’s cute.

“There you go,” Tom says, passing your phone back. He stands from the bench, tilting the flask towards you. “I’ve gotta go,” he adds. “Carpool. But, uh… See you tomorrow?”

You nod, biting back your smile. “Yeah,” you agree. “Sounds good.”

Before he leaves, Tom darts down to gently kiss your cheek, his lips lingering there for a moment before he springs back and walks away, waving as he goes. As his broad smile fades from sight, you find your hand drifting up, going to your cheek and touching the spot which tingles with the remnants of his kiss.

Swallowing back your nerves, you return your attention to your phone. You open your contact, clicking on Tom and opening up a text message. After a brief moment of contemplation, you decide to play it safe.

Y/N: hey x

A moment later, the notification changes from delivered to read, and the typing bubbles pop up. You shift on the bench, holding your breath.

Tom: hi xx

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

A few weeks pass, and it becomes a habit.

Despite already spending most of your days on the ice, you carve out another hour every Wednesday afternoon and dedicate it to Tom. Over time, he teaches you hockey, and you continue to give him pointers on his skating. After a while, you even manage to coach him through a jump. It’s easy with him. There are no expectations, no routines you need to nail. All you have to focus on when you’re with Tom is having fun—and also trying not to fall too deeply into the reserves of his deep brown eyes. Tom feels like a breath of fresh air—if the air also happens to be loaded full of charm, cheek, and wear an irresistible smile.

Halfway through the hockey league, you end up at the arena on a Saturday night, staying late with the rest of the figure skating team. Your competitive season begins in two weeks, so the team is in for outfit fittings, everyone split across the changing rooms at the arena. You’re competing solo this year, which grants you the rare position of having the freedom to design your dress—a privilege you’ve had a lot of fun with.

“It’s beautiful,” you gasp. “I can’t believe how nice it looks.”

You’re staring at a clothes mannequin, wearing the costume you’d spent hours conceptualising with the team’s designers. It’s a shade of red that perfectly compliments your skin, accented with silver and gold detailing in a beautiful pattern over the front. Gems glimmer and sparkle, and you can’t stop your eyes from tearing up as you look at an object of such beauty.

“Do you like it?” Standing beside the masterpiece, eyes nervous, is Jazzy, the lead costume designer. When you clasp your hands together and nod, she releases a deep sigh of relief. “Thank goodness,” she murmurs. “Let’s get you in it and start marking out the alterations.”

You feel a little bit like a doll, standing on a raised platform as you pull on your costume, but it’s worth the reward of seeing yourself in the dress. After slipping into it, you pull your hair back and pin it sloppily, so you’re able to admire the ensemble fully. You’re in tights, matched to your skin tone, and the tops of your thighs are covered by the red material. It floats down, and you run your fingertips over the hem of the velvety skirt as a smile finds your lips.

“Stunning,” Jazzy compliments. She passes you a tube of lipstick. “Try that one.”

You carefully smooth the shade over your lips, noting with enjoyment how the hue matches the bodice of the dress. As you stare at your reflection in the mirror, you release a breath. When you have your face painted and your hair done properly, you’ll look the part, and clinging to the image of what you’ll look like on competition days is enough to steady some of the nerves. Even if you mess up your routine, you’ll do it looking like you deserve to be there.

“I love it,” you say, releasing a breath. You reach up and pull your hair free, running a hand through it and ruffling it, so it sits normally. You do a small spin, smiling as the material drifts around the top of your legs. “You did an incredible job. Thank you so much.”

“Thank you for wearing it so well,” she returns, winking. “Let’s get a few more opinions.”

It isn’t long before the changing room is swarmed with the rest of your team, each one of them wearing garments in various stages of completion. The men are here too—four of them, combining with the five other women and yourself, bringing your team up to an even ten. Each season, your team puts forward various combinations of skaters for the duet, team, and solo events. You’re one of the only skaters competing solo this year—a decision your coach had made as she decided she wants no distractions for you as you try to reach Olympic level. The only other member of your team in a similar position is Tai, your lean, incredibly friendly male counterpart.

Tai saunters across the room, running a hand through his thick black hair. His outfit is deep purple and shimmery, and you wiggle your eyebrows as he does a little spin.

“Pretty sick, right?” he says, shaking a sleeve at you. “I look like Dionysus.”

“So cool,” you compliment. You do a small spin too, smiling widely. “What do you think?”

“Stunning,” Tai returns. He nods to affirm his point. “You’re going to kill it, Y/N. This is your year.”

You smile nervously. “I hope so,” you reply. You take a tight breath. “I really hope so.”

Before the conversation can continue, there’s the slamming of a door opening, followed by an approaching wall of noise—men, talking loudly, a few of them hollering. You raise an eyebrow towards Tai, who scowls.

“Saturday night,” he says. “The team are in the playoffs.”

“Wait, is it a home game?”

Tai nods. “Starts in twenty,” he says. His frown intensifies. “They’re so loud. Idiots.”

You watch from your position on the dressing podium as flashes of white, green and orange pass by the open door. It’s the hockey team, alongside their coaches and their managers. They walk determinedly in the direction of the hockey changing room where you presume they’re going for a pre-game pep talk. You can’t stop yourself from scanning the crowds, looking for Tom. When you fail to seek him out, you feel your heart pang sadly in your chest.

“Y/N?” Tai’s looking at you, amused. “Are you okay?”

You swallow, then nod. “Yeah,” you mutter. “Just tired.”

He hums, eyes wide and sympathetic. “Me too. It’s been a busy week, hasn’t it?”

It’s easy to agree. At this point in the season, with so few weeks to go before the competition begins, you’re at the rink every day.

“Absolutely.”

You stifle a yawn. Your eyes flutter back across the changing room, and you see your tired sentiments seem to be shared by the rest of the team. As they slowly start to leave the room, it grows quieter. Tai drifts away, lingering in the corner and talking with Jazzy and Yelena. It isn’t long until you’re the only four people remaining. You spend a few moments taking photos of your fit in the mirror, trying to get in all the angles so you can send them to your family and fuel their excitement about the season. Your actions are interrupted only when there’s a tender knock on the door, and you glance up towards the entrance to see a bulky, padded figure. Tom.

“Uh, hello? The hockey room is across the corridor,” Yelena says, crossing her arms over her chest.

Tom isn’t in his helmet, but he is perched tall on his skates. You’re able to watch as his face twitches with annoyance. He offers a tight smile to Yelena before glancing straight at you, raising a teasing brow.

Chest feeling tight, you step forward, padding quietly towards the door. Your friends are all looking at you, but you’re more preoccupied with Tom and the way his eyes seem to glint as they take you in your form. There’s a small swagger to your step as you watch him shift from leg to leg, his cheeks warm and red, eyes full of appreciation as they stick on the curves of your hips, chest, and then your lips. Your suit is tight, and it brings you enjoyment to watch him admire you. He clears his throat as you fall to a stop in front of him.

“Hey,” you say, voice quiet, perplexed. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a game?”

Tom nods. “Yeah,” he says. His tone is darker, and it catches slightly. “I, uh… I wanted to see you.”

You bite your lip, standing a little straighter. “Oh.” You can’t stop yourself from smiling. “Well… Do you like it?” You toy with the hem of your skirt. “It’s my outfit for the competition circuit.”

“Give me a spin, darling.”

You oblige him, feeling slightly giddy as you do yet another rotation. You hear him hum, and when you fall to a stop in front of him again, you’re closer.

“Beautiful.” Tom rubs together his hands, slender fingers gloveless and unaffected by the imminent game. He rocks back on his skates, clicking his tongue as he looks a little apprehensive. “I, uh… I was thinking about what you said last week about never going to a hockey game before.” He pauses to dig through one of his deep pockets, pulling out a few pieces of paper. He offers them to you tentatively. “If you want, I have some spare tickets for tonight’s game. Pretty good seats. My family normally use them, but they’re busy tonight, so…?”

It’s with a mix of shock and gratitude that you nod your head immediately, reaching out to take the tickets. “I’d love to, Tom,” you murmur. “Thank you.”

He grins, face lighting up. “Perfect,” he returns. “Maybe you’ll be my lucky charm.”

Your teeth graze your lower lip, and you smile. “I hope so.”

Tom opens his mouth as if to say more, but then there’s a holler from further down the corridor.

“Dutchy! Five minutes! Hurry up!”

He grimaces, rolling his eyes. “Well, that’s me.”

“Dutchy?” you question.

Tom shrugs, then turns around and extends his thumb over his back to gesture at his jersey. “Holland,” he says. He turns back to look at you, grinning. “Just a nickname.”

You coo. “That’s cute.”

Tom licks his lip. “‘S not the only thing that’s cute.” You barely have time to respond before he’s leaning forward to quickly kiss your cheek. “Have fun!” he says, already on his way down the corridor.

“Good luck!” you return. You can almost feel the ghost of his touch, resting on your face so perfectly.

Tom turns, right at the end of the corridor, and he winks. You don’t realise how tightly you’re holding yourself until he disappears, and your lovestruck muscles unravel.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It’s hard to explain to Tai and Yelena the relationship you have with Tom, so you just give up after a while. They accompany you to the arena. You manage to change your dress for something more casual, deciding to keep the red lipstick on. Tom’s seats are at the end of the rink, positioned mid-way up the stands. They give you a clear view across the ice.

The atmosphere is electric. You’re surrounded by the home crowd, decked out in replica jerseys, printed scarves, and hats that have Kingston Kites printed all over them. It’s a sea of white, green, and orange, and you can’t stop yourself from slipping out during the first break to buy yourself a scarf—just to support the team, and Tom. The teasing you receive from your friends when you reappear is hard to ignore but mellows out when you procure a bag of Maltesers you’d also bought from the stand.

And Tom… Tom.

Tom’s incredible. You can’t keep your eyes off him. The silhouette of his padded figure feels like it’s burnt to your memory. When he’s on the ice, he’s magnificent, commanding the space well, grunting and spinning as he plays. When he’s waiting for his turn on the bench with his team, he’s focused and calm. His eyes are sharp and intense, glinting almost black beneath the harsh rink lighting as they follow the puck across the ice. You find yourself admiring everything about him—watching the way his cheeks are flushed a rosy red, his jawline sharp and fierce. He’s on fire, passion rolling off every part of him, and, quite honestly, it’s incredibly attractive.

Tom’s explained the basic rules of hockey to you a few times, but there’s a stark difference between him telling you, quietly, how line rotations work and actually seeing them in action on a scale like this. The players swap out every minute, only staying on the ice for a short burst of energy as they chase the puck around. Tom, holding the loose position of centre forward, goes wherever needed, carving up the ice like it’s his one task in life. You’re high in the stands, but even from so far, you’re able to see the determination and the passion burning in his eyes.

The game is brutal. By the time it reaches the third and final twenty-minute segment, the score is tied 2-2. You watch, on tenterhooks, as Tom jumps the barrier on the side of the rink, swapping in for one of the players and taking his spot on the ice.

He’s antsy, as are the rest of the team. You know it’s an important match, and if they want a chance at continuing to the next stage of the competition, they need the result to swing in their favour. Your eyes are wide, fingers curled into fists as you watch Tom cut up the ice. The helmet on his head protects his skull, but you can make out a few strands of dark brown hair sticking out, and you find yourself struck with the very prominent and aching thought that you’d quite like to play with it.

The puck ends up at your end of the rink, and the Kingston Kites take on a defensive strategy as their opponents try to put pressure on the goalie and get in another shot. You find your eyes trained directly on Tom and startle as you catch him looking up at you. Through panting breaths, his lips quirk into a brief, tight smile of recognition, but then it sours as his eyes slip beside you and look at Tai. Your friend is sitting to your right, his arm loosely wrapped around your shoulders, and you’re casually leaning into his side. It’s entirely platonic, but you don’t miss the way Tom’s eyebrows shoot up as his gaze hardens and his jaw sets with determination.

The whole interaction lasts less than a second, but as Tom refocuses on the game and hurtles after the puck, he seems more aggravated. You sit forward, gaining a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as you shrug off Tai and stare at Tom. Your eyes follow him as he goes in hard, trying to wrestle the puck out from beneath his opponent’s stick. It looks to be a bit of a mess, and you hear everyone in your section gasp as Tom roughly elbows the other guy. He goes spinning with a yelp, and the referee blows on the whistle, pausing the game. There are a few yells of ‘Dutchy’, coupled with disgruntled hollering from the people around you as they question the referee’s decision to pause.

“Fucking hell,” Yelena murmurs, leaning forward on her elbows and staring across the ice. “Your guy is crazy.”

You suck in a breath, watching as the referee points at the penalty box and Tom stomps towards it. You can almost see the frustrated steam pouring from his ears.

“He’s… passionate.” You bite your lip. Somehow, you feel responsible for his outburst.

“Shit,” Tai mutters. He too leans forward, until all three of you are sitting there, elbows on your knees, staring at the penalty box. “That’s kind of hot.”

Your throat feels dry as you watch Tom throw his stick on the ground of the penalty box. Given all the walls are made of plastic, you have an unobstructed view as he pulls off his helmet and tosses it on a seat too. He marches a few paces up and down, speaking angrily to himself, his expression one of pure irritation. When he finally sits down, he runs a gloved hand through his hair, pushing away the sweaty strands that stick so deliciously to the top of his flushed forehead. You watch, your breath light and shallow, as Tom jerks off the glove and shoves his fingers into his mouth, pulling out his mouthguard before picking up a bottle and squirting a long stream of water into his open mouth.

“Fuck,” you murmur, eyes transfixed. There’s a heat in the pit of your stomach, building as you take in the way Tom’s glowing with a mix of exertion and anger. The match is continuing back on the ice, but you can’t stop looking at the hot flush of his cheeks and the angry lines of his flexed brows and curved jaw. “It is.”

A minute passes, and Tom slowly seems to chill out. It’s only as the seconds fall down into the 30s that he finally seems to release his tension, fixing his mouthguard, and his glove before glancing up at the stands. You’re surprised when, again, he looks directly at you, his entire demeanour shifting when he sees the concern in your eyes. His features soften, lips losing their angry frown and mellowing into a warmer smile, and you watch as his gaze grows fonder.

Yelena hits at your knee immediately. “He’s in love with you,” she announces, certainty in her voice.

You can’t stop looking at Tom, not even when he breaks contact with a wink and shoves his helmet back on.

“Shut up,” you murmur. “He’s not. We’re just friends.”

Tai cackles. “Fuck off,” he says. “Yelena’s right. Friends don’t look at each other like that.”

You sit up, glaring at him. “Like what?”

He smirks. “Like you want to jump each other.”

It’s hard to dispute that one, so instead, you just cross your arms over your chest and stare back at the ice. “You’re wrong, but okay.”

Yelena nudges your side. “There’s only one way to find out.”

“Hmm?”

“Stay behind after the match and ask him.”

You swallow nervously, briefly looking at her. “But what if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not,” she promises. “But… If I am, I’ll let you style my hair for the rest of the season.”

Your eyes light up, and the way that Yelena smirks, you can tell she knows the offer is too good to refuse.

“Fine,” you agree. Your eyes shift back to Tom, watching as he vaults back over the barrier and joins his team. Apparently they’ve forgiven him for the penalty, as he’s welcomed back with firm pats on the back, and you can see his blinding smile from across the rink. “I’ll do it.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

The Kingston Kites win the match, and the arena is quick to empty. You part ways with your friends as they head home and you end up wandering the changing rooms as you try to hype yourself up. There’s a text from Tom waiting on your phone, simply asking how you’d liked the game, so you respond and tell him that you’d much rather go over it in person. After agreeing to meet him outside his locker room, it’s just a waiting game.

You reapply your lipstick and mess around with your hair to kill the time. It’s a little eerie being alone in the skating changing rooms, and as time passes, you hear fewer people hovering around the arena as the players slowly leave the building. It’s hard not to get stuck in your head as you think about your plan to confess your feelings, so you end up pacing in the long corridor that winds between the skating changing rooms and the hockey locker room.

The corridor is bright white and decorated with various sporting memorabilia. Autographed jerseys, shining medals, and printed photographs hang framed on the walls. On your side of the corridor, you catch glimpses of yourself, wearing a tracksuit and hugging your friends, showing off your medals, mid-action on the ice… It makes you proud to see that your team has placed you so frequently in the collage, and you feel a swell of bittersweet gratitude in your chest as you look at snapshots of competitions gone by.

On the other side of the corridor is a similar spread for the hockey team. You stroke at your chin as you examine this season’s photos, skimming your eyes over the group shot and trying to spot the people that you know. When you see Tom, dead centre, grinning widely, it makes you smile.

“—I’m just saying, Dutch, something was going on with you tonight. It can’t happen again. We can’t have you losing focus at this stage in the competition.”

The sound of a gruff voice drifting up the corridor makes you startle, and you glance down to see two figures emerging from the locker room—Tom, and one of his coaches. Tom has traded his gear for a pair of blue jeans and a loose black hoodie, and you watch as he nods and looks at his coach with wide-eyed respect.

“Of course, Spike,” he responds, voice clear, open. “It won’t.”

You watch as Spike sighs, then gives Tom a hearty pat on the shoulder. “Good lad.” He walks back, then makes the okay sign with his fingers. “Your final goal was phenomenal, though. More of that next game, and less time in the penalty box. Got it?”

“Yes, coach.”

“Good. See you tomorrow.”

Tom grunts and the two separate. You watch as he tugs on the front strings of his backpack before turning, his face lighting up as he spots you, leaning against the wall. He quickly strides towards you, footsteps echoing against the cold passage.

“Hey,” Tom calls out, voice bouncing down the hall.

There’s an uncontrollable smile on your face as you stand up and walk to meet him halfway. Tom instinctively wraps you in a hug, lips catching on your cheek when he pulls away.

“Hi,” you reply, voice shy. Tom smells of shower gel and mint, his curls a little damp and darker than usual. “Congrats on the win.”

Tom smirks, nodding as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Thanks, love. Did you enjoy it?”

You release a short laugh. If enjoyment equates to found it incredibly erotic, then, of course, the answer is,

“Yes. Loved it.” You tilt your head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Did you get in trouble for the penalty box?”

He winces, grimacing at you with his teeth glinting. “A bit,” he admits. “Doesn’t matter though, ‘cos I scored a goal after. I just need to, um… Not do it again.”

The air between you is thicker, and you find yourself swallowing as you note the way Tom’s looking at you, eyes hungry.

“What happened?” You say, testing the waters tentatively. “You seemed fine, and then you got… Fired up.”

Tom swallows. “I… Just got tetchy.” He clears his throat. “Who, uh… Who were you at the match with?”

You smirk, realising that your hypothesis was right. “My friends. Yelena and Tai. They’re on the team with me.”

“Friends?” Tom confirms, expression perking up.

“Yeah. Friends.”

He steps closer. “Did they like the game?” he asks.

“Yeah. They thought you were hot.”

Tom chuckles, briefly glancing at the floor before drawing his eyes back to you. They linger on your lips, and your breath hitches as he tentatively, testingly reaches out and places his hands on your hips. When you sink into it, he grows bolder, pulling you closer until your faces are near. You love the way his hands feel as they rest on your waist.

“Did you?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you think I was hot?”

It’s hard to concentrate when Tom’s standing so close to you, looking at you with his eyes so intense, but somehow you manage to wrap your arms around his neck and nod. “Yeah,” you admit. You toy with his curls, giving them a short tug when he groans enjoyably. “I always think you’re hot.”

Tom wears his smirk so well that it’s almost infuriating.

“Do you want to know a secret?” he asks, fingers softly caressing your sides. When you squeak out a noise of affirmation, Tom lets his nose brush up against yours. He swallows deeply, nervousness mixing with his teasing. “I think you’re stunning, too. All the time, but especially tonight, when you were sitting up there, wearing a team scarf and watching me play.”

“Oh,” you murmur. It’s hard to maintain eye contact with him when there’s so much going on in the depths of his gaze that it dizzies you. “Thank you.” Growing a little bolder, you let your fingers glide up, tangling in the ends of his hair. “It was fun watching you play. You’re really talented, Tom.”

His nose is still cold against yours, and you let your eyes fall shut as he slowly traces patterns over your sides.

“Thanks, darling.”

Instinctively, and embarrassingly, you feel a shiver roll down your spine as the pet name falls from his lips. Usually, you’d be able to play it off from the cold, or like you’re stretching a muscle, but he’s holding you so close that you’re sure he felt it.

“Tom,” you say, voice hushed. You feel safe in his arms, you feel loved in his arms, but your skin is still crawling with built-up desire. There’s an ache in your chest that burns brighter with each second he lingers so close, but yet remains so far. “Do you want to…”

“What, sweetheart?”

Again, your breath catches. You hear Tom release a small chuckle, and then, after a final moment, his lips fill in the small gap between you both. You sink into it immediately, heart rejoicing as his lips, warm and slightly chapped, explore your own.

It’s a little fumbly, and it takes a few moments for you to learn the slopes of his face so intimately, but once you’ve both readjusted and altered your positions, it’s quick to heat up. Tom’s fingers grip your waist tighter, mouth pressing to yours with more hunger as you wind your fingers into his hair and sigh. Between gasped breaths and soft sounds of enjoyment, you feel him slip his tongue along your lower lip, and so you open your mouth a little wider.

You end up against the cool brick wall, making out like you’re both teenagers again. The exhilarating butterflies twirling in your stomach match the memories, too. You moan softly as Tom pulls away from your mouth, his attention shifting to your neck. As you tilt your head to the side and open up your throat to him, you whimper as you feel his lips drag over your exposed skin. He nibbles and suckles until he finds the sensitive part that makes you cry out.

“Fuck,” you whimper. You tug on his air-dried curls, coaxing him back up to your lips so you can enjoy the feeling of his mouth on yours. Tom sighs, and you can feel him smiling into it.

There are noises, coming from further down the hall, and when they increase in volume, Tom reluctantly pulls back from your mouth. He links your hands together and swings them through the air, looking up to meet your eyes. His face is cute, lips puffy and red, eyes dancing with hope.

“D’you want to—”

“Oi, Dutchy!”

You jump as a holler comes from down the hall, echoing off the vast brick walls. Tom’s expression shifts, his lips pursing as he glances down the corridor. He turns away from you to yell back.

“What?”

You think it’s Osterfield, one of Tom’s friends. He too is dressed casually, standing tall with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

“We’re going out! Don’s got us the VIP section down at the Grove. C’mon!”

Tom looks torn, a ripe line carved out between his brows. He glances back at you, biting his lower lip.

“Go,” you urge, smiling softly. “Celebrate with your team.”

He frowns slightly. “Come with us?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No, it should just be you guys.” As much as you like Tom, you can’t think of anything worse than going on a night out with the entire loud, boisterous hockey team. You smile encouragingly when you see the turmoil in his eyes. “You deserve it.”

“Are you sure? Because I can stay here, and we can—”

You lean up, moving your hands back down to his shoulders as you kiss him very softly. “Go,” you urge, whispering against his thin lips.

Tom leans into you, keeping your lips pressed until you can feel him smiling into it. He begrudgingly steps back. “Thank you,” he says, “for coming to the game. And being so lovely.” His lips quirk a little taller. “And for letting me kiss you.”

“Well, it didn’t take much convincing.” You cross your arms over your chest and lean back against the wall, your figure feeling colder without Tom’s touch. His eyes run the lines of your face, gaze warm and comforting.

“Have a nice night,” he says. There’s still hesitation on his face, so you step forward and kiss his cheek before gently pushing his shoulder.

“You too” you respond. Tom finally walks away, but only after shooting you a wink.

You lean back against the wall, pulling out your phone and staring at the blank screen as you discreetly keep your focus on Tom. When he reaches the end of the corridor, Osterfield thumps him on the back and murmurs something unintelligible which earns him a shove into the doorway as the two friends leave together. Tom glances back just before disappearing, and you smile at him as he waves his hand playfully.

Once alone, you release a tight sigh of contentment. You deflate, sagging against the wall as you feel your heart beating faster in your chest. Absently, one of your hands drifts up, fingertips resting on the outline of your lips. Your mouth is still warm from Tom’s kisses, and your heart feels a little softer, too.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

You don’t see him for a while, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t constantly on your mind. At some point, Tom adds you to his private Instagram story, and it feels like a gentle confirmation that he feels the same way as you. You stay in constant contact, and he starts to send you more memes and silly texts each evening. The smile on your lips barely fades, and every time your phone lights up with a new text from him, you get excited.

Unfortunately, the high doesn’t last forever. All too soon, it’s a week before your first competition, and the good feeling finally goes away. As extended practices cut into your life, you’re left frazzled and stressed, trying to balance your team’s expectations against your own personal competitiveness. It doesn’t help that your ankle is giving you grief again.

“No, no, no. You’re better than this, Y/N! Stop cutting the spin too early. You have to extend it into the end of the beat!”

It’s a Thursday morning, and you’re exhausted. The bags beneath your eyes hang heavy, and every manoeuvre you try to execute just seems to leave you worse than before. You’re cold on the ice, and your bones are chilled from fatigue and stress. Everything aches, and try as you might, you can’t land the final ten seconds of your routine. Your coach has forced you to go over it again and again, minutes blurring to hours as your frustration festers.

“It’s not working,” you call back, reaching up to tug on your hair. Your coach is leaning against the rink barrier, resting on her elbows as she watches you, pursed lips.

“Do it again,” she encourages. “Faster!”

You grit your teeth, skating back into the centre of the ice. The music starts again, and you run through the entire final section, nailing the parts that you know. Yet, as you reach the big finish, you falter. You end up flat on the ice, frustrated tears burning your eyes as your ankle throbs. As the track cuts out again, you hear your coach’s loud sigh, carrying across the ice.

“Pack it in. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

You grimace as you climb back to your feet, wincing slightly.

“I can do it again,” you call back, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You want to. You have to.

Your coach shakes her head, lips set in a firm line. “You can’t,” she responds. “You’re worn out and making mistakes. Your injury won’t sustain you.” She pauses to shake her head. “This isn’t what any of us want, Y/N, but you need to rest.”

Your fingernails dig into your palms as you grit your teeth. “But—”

“No. Go home.” Your coach pushes off from the barrier, shaking her head. When you fail to move, she turns back, arching a brow. “Go.”

A string of irritated cuss words falls quietly from your lips as you reluctantly skate from the centre of the rink. Your fingers go to your cheeks, wiping away the cool tears that fall from frustration. It’s a private session, but a few of your team are hanging around. Their sympathetic smiles and gentle arm pats make you bristle, and you’re silently seething as you stomp over to one of the benches and throw yourself onto it, groaning.

You lie down and stare at the ceiling for a while, trying to focus on your breathing. It’s just one bad training session. You’ve landed the end section of your routine plenty of times before. It’s just a bad day.

…But it’s also a bad day, one week before the first rounds of competitions, where a performance like the one you just gave would have you finishing in last place, your Olympic dreams crumbling to pieces.

You close your eyes, clenching your hands into fists as you stretch out over the bench. Your teammates know to give you space, so you aren’t sure why you feel a shadow falling across your face. You ignore it for a few moments, putting it down to someone unknown peering at you fleetingly, but when it persists, you pry an angry eye open.

“What— Tom?”

For the second time, you find yourself surprised by his presence. Tom is standing beside your bench, swallowed by a deep green hoodie with a blue denim jacket pulled over the top of it. In his hands are a stack of papers and his eyes are full of concern.

“Hi,” Tom says quietly, looking a little embarrassed. His cheeks are dusted light pink. You wonder how long he’s been staring at you for. “Are you okay? I, uh… I saw the end of your training.”

You feel rigid and breakable as his eyes pool with warmth, his gaze like tender sunbeams. When he steps closer and presses a gentle hand to your shoulder, your stress bubbles over. As you bring your knees to your chest, you press the side of your face into them, blinking up at him as a few tears skate down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, cooing softly. “Don’t cry, darling.”

Tom gently coaxes you up the bench and sits behind you, throwing a leg either side of the wood to straddle it. You let him pull you back into him, his arms feeling warm and strong as he hugs you tightly from behind. He burrows his face into your neck, warm hands going up to cup your cheeks as his fingertips carefully flick your tears away.

“I’m not sad,” you murmur, swallowing back another wave of tears. “I’m just annoyed.”

“I know.” Tom pauses, and you take a moment to breathe in the scent of fresh laundry. “It’s the most frustrating thing in the world when you can’t get something right. But if you work yourself into the ground, you won’t ever be able to do it.”

“But- but what if I want to work myself into the ground,” you mutter, causing him to chuckle.

“Then you’d be silly.” Tom kisses your cheek, his lips warm and light. “And you’re not silly. You’re the strongest athlete that I know, Y/N. You just need to let other people look after you. Let… Let me look after you.”

Your breath hitches and slowly, you pull your face away from your knees. You stretch your legs out in front of you and turn to look at Tom, curiosity in your gaze as you think about how close he’s holding you, and how passionately he’s speaking to you.

“Thank you,” you say, voice quiet. A shy smile curls across your lips.

Tom hums. His hands fall down to your shoulders, and he gently squeezes your arms. “Go have a shower,” he says. “You’ll feel better, and then I’ll look after you some more.”

You reach out, fingers twirling around the strings of his hoodie. “You’re too nice to me,” you murmur, shyly ducking away from his gaze. “How are you so perfect?”

He laughs, the sound so ripe and joyful that it brings warmth back to your chest.

“I’m not,” Tom disputes. “I just care about you.”

You hum, and before you can lose your cool, you lean in and softly kiss him. Tom’s still for a moment, but then he pushes closer, gently and delicately kissing you back. His hands swoop down to hold your waist, lightly stroking over your sides. When you pull away a few moments later, you feel steadier.

“Hmm,” you say, mind running slow, ensnared by the glimmers of warmth in his eyes. “I like kissing you.”

Tom chuckles, nose brushing yours. “I like kissing you too.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It turns out that Tom’s right—you do feel better after having a shower. As you find yourself in the deserted skating changing rooms, the sight of your troubles being swirled away down the plughole releases a large part of your stress. The hot water coaxes your good mood back, and it continues, even when you have to wrap up your ankle again.

By the time Tom reappears, knocking gently on the changing room door before entering, you feel better. You’ve changed clothes, washed your hair, cleansed yourself of all the bad energy that had clogged you up. You feel like you again.

“I got this for you,” Tom announces. He holds a disposable cup in his hand and presents it to you with a grin. “Hot chocolate, for m’lady.”

You roll your eyes as you accept it, looking up at him with gratitude warming your chest. “Thanks, Tom.”

He glances down, eyes taking in your form. You’re again stretched out on a bench, one of your legs bent at the knee, the other laying out in front of you. A few bandages hang around, and Tom looks at them curiously.

“How’s your ankle?” he asks, chewing on his lower lip as he stares at your fluffy sock.

“It’s okay,” you reply. “I braced it. Should be alright as long as I take it easy.”

Tom nods, then very slowly walks to the end of the bench. He runs his index finger down the bottom of your leg, his touch light but warm. You’re in a skirt, your legs bare and exposed, and as you take in the mischievous glint in his eye, you wonder what he has in mind.

“Y/N,” Tom starts, voice gentle. His fingertips play around with the top of your sock as he looks up at you from beneath his lashes. “Can I kiss it better?”

You’re breathing a little lighter as you look at him. “Yeah,” you agree. “Go ahead.”

Tom kneels on the floor, settling beside the bench with ease. With gentle fingers, he rolls down the top of your sock, just far enough so he’s able to leave a very soft kiss to your tender skin. He doesn’t linger there too long, his eyes fixed to your face, but his lips don’t leave you, either. Very carefully, taking his time, Tom starts to drop kisses to your skin. He gradually works his way further up your leg, dusting warm, open-mouthed kisses from your ankle to your shin, then your knee.

You shift on the bench as Tom starts to come higher, one of your hands drifting down to rest in his curls. You put the disposable cup on the floor as you watch him. There’s a heat slowly building in the pit of your stomach, and with each meeting of your flesh and Tom’s mouth, it grows more pronounced. It isn’t long before you’re parting your legs, his lips pausing at the bottom of your thigh as he changes from light kisses to deeper, needier sucks. A short whimper travels from your mouth, wobbling into the air as his lips draw the blood to the surface of your skin.

“You’re so pretty,” Tom murmurs, looking up at you from the ground. His eyes are wide, darkened with lust. He splays his hand along your neglected thigh, rubbing gentle circles to the skin. You whimper when he drops his tongue to lap over one of the marks he’s pulled to the surface of your skin. “Do you want me to go any higher?” His voice is raspy.

The space between your legs is throbbing, and immediately you nod. “The, uh, the door,” you murmur, voice shaking. Tom presses a final kiss to your inner thigh before standing up. He winks at you before jogging to the changing room door, easily flicking the lock, then coming back towards you. “Are you, um… Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Tom grins. He sinks down to his knees beside your head, his hands tugging the bottom of your legs. You sit up on the edge of the bench and turn as your thighs open over his shoulders. Tom kneels between them, his bed of brown curls complementing your skin tone nicely. He presses a kiss to your neglected leg before his hands carefully skim up to play with the hem of your skirt.

“I wouldn’t mind one bit,” he replies, his voice a little darker. He tilts his head as he meets your gaze, smirking softly. “I’d really like to. Do you want to know a secret, darling?” Tom’s fingers slide up, his index and his middle making contact with the front of your panties. As he traces delicately over the front of your core, small arcs of pleasure roll out from your centre. The way his lips twitch taller makes you wonder if he can feel the way your cunt seems to throb.

“Yeah,” you respond, voice light. A whimper passes through your lips as Tom applies a little more pressure to your covered clit, your hips gyrating down to meet his fingertips in response.

He pulls back, only to push your skirt out of the way, tutting quietly when you mewl.

“Been wondering what you’d taste like for ages, love,” he coos. He uses his grip on your thighs to pull you closer, and you moan when he buries his head between your legs. Your panties are still on, but that doesn't stop Tom from nosing up against your slit, hot breath fanning out across your warmth. When he draws his tongue over the front of your panties, you release a breathless whine. “Bet it tastes as pretty as you are.”

You reach down and bury your hand back into his curls, pulling Tom closer as he ghosts his tongue over the front of your panties. He’s lapping lightly up your slit, the pleasure muted but still there, and your eyes fall shut as the muscles in your thighs tense.

“Fuck, Tom,” you whine, feeling your cunt pulse. “Take them off. I need more.”

His nimble fingers are quick to follow your instructions, and as soon as your hips are falling back to the bench, his mouth is on you. You cry out as you finally feel him, the pleasure direct and far greater than you’d expected. Tom devours you, using both of his thumbs to press your lips apart as his tongue travels all over your heat. He spends a while focusing on your clit, the tip of his tongue firm and unrelenting, but when you start to whine a little louder, he teases you by drawing away. He flattens his tongue and licks a few broad strokes up your centre, moaning against you until you’re fisting at his hair and shaking.

“Fuck,” you whine, voice barely there. “Feels so good.”

Tom’s complete attention is on you and your eyes roll back when he teases your entrance with his mouth. One of his thumbs rolls up to toy with your clit as he pushes his tongue into you, your walls throbbing as he explores you. You push him deeper, obscenities mixing with slurred acclamations of his name, and it’s as though you can feel your pulse hammering in your head.

“Knew it. Tastes like fucking heaven,” Tom murmurs, pulling away from your entrance to shoot you a smirking smile. He brings two fingers to your pussy and teases you there, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead when you moan and rut down against them, taking agency and fulfilling your desires. “Shit, baby. You’re so wet.” He fucks your heat, eyes moving off your face and fixing on the mess between your legs as he coos. “I can feel you clenching around my fingers. Does that feel good?”

“Yeah,” you whine. When Tom drops his head and wraps his lips back around your clit, you cry out. “Getting so close,” you say, words tangling together as your chest heaves. You feel so hot, your body trembling as your edge hangs in sight. “Keep going, f-fuck, Tom. You’re so good.”

He adds a third finger to your heat, and your jaw slackens. Tom changes the angle of his digits a few times before curling them just right, and he continues to stroke up against your g-spot as you cry out. You stammer out a few words of warning, and he moans in response. The vibrations of the sound coupled with the way his tongue is applying the perfect amount of warm, sloppy pressure to your clit push you over the edge. As you peak, you fall back onto your elbows, tightening your grip on his hair as your pussy throbs, taking wave after wave of pleasure as it rocks across you and smothers you.

Tom doesn’t stop until you’ve ridden it out completely and you’re sensitive. With a push at his hair, you coax him away, still trying to gather yourself as your throat feels dry. The expression of cocky fulfilment hanging from his lips makes you shiver, and you almost moan again as you take in the sight of his chin, glistening with your arousal.

“How was that?” he asks, cleaning his chin with the back of his hand. Tom carefully stands up, still looking at you as he leans back and picks up a box of tissues from one of the benches. He passes a few to you then leans back against one of the lockers, looking at you admiringly with his arms crossed.

“Really good,” you manage, voice still a little hoarse. You clear your throat and ignore his chuckle as you take care of the mess between your legs with a tissue. Your eyes soften when you look back to him. “Thank you.”

Tom just nods, taking the used tissues and binning them before making a quick stop by a sink to wash his hands. When he strolls back over, he stands in front of you and cups your cheeks in his palms. You stare up at him, smiling as he meets your eyes.

“Glad I could make you feel nice,” he says, voice soft. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Now… If you have time, I want to take you home. Run you a nice bath, make you some lunch. Make sure you’re looking after yourself.”

You feel your face warm as you listen to his musings, and find yourself biting the inside of your cheek. “You’d want to do all that for me?”

Tom nods. His hands run over your face, fingertips gently caressing your cheekbones. It’s as if he’s examining you, trying to ensure that you’re okay, that you’re safe, that you’re happy. It makes your heart soar.

“‘Course, darling. I care about you a lot.”

You tilt your head to the side so you can kiss the inside of his palm. “Okay,” you agree. You stand up, wincing slightly as your ankle disagrees with taking your weight. Tom’s hands move down to hold your waist, steadying you. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

You start to walk, only to look back at him and glare jokingly. “Can’t believe you ruined my underwear,” you say. “Feels fucking freezing without them on.”

Tom arches a brow, picking up his bag and slinging it over his back before catching up to you. “Um, I think technically it was you who ruined your underwear.”

You scrunch up the tip of your nose, only for your scowl to melt when he kisses it. When you reach the door, you undo the lock and open it, letting Tom through before following him out into the corridor.

“Whatever,” you reply, sinking into his side. His hand is warm in yours, your fingers tangled together nicely. “Worth it.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It’s noisy in the arena.

With the final match of the season underway and the league title up for grabs, the atmosphere is electric. The stands are packed, frenzied by the presence of the large broadcasting cameras that stream the match live to thousands online. Sitting in the home section, the noise seems louder than it would be elsewhere in the arena. Everyone around you is as invested in the result as you are, and as the energy rises and falls, you feel connected to the mass of strangers around you. You know that they share the ache in your fingers built from the tight clenching of your knuckles into fists, and the strain of your eyes as you spend too long staring at the bright white ice.

The score is 4-4. The players from both teams have been giving some of the most convincing performances of their careers. It’s been close all match.

You hadn’t been sure that you’d be able to make the game, your own days filled with the later stages of your competition, but you’re glad you managed to swing it. Tom needs you.

He’s skating well. He’d assisted one of the team’s goals, and managed to subvert several other shots on goal attempted by his rivals. Tom looks as handsome as ever, face flushed, eyes focused, figure bulked wide with protective padding, but you know he’s nervous. He’s looking up at you more than usual, his teeth gritted together, and his jaw tensed. It’s clear just how much the title means to him.

It’s been a few weeks since Tom came and picked you up after your meltdown at practice, and since then, your feelings for him have escalated. You think it must be a form of torture to watch someone you care about so much getting pushed around, and injured, and hurt on the ice, knowing you can’t do anything but sit and watch it play out in front of you. Every time he gets slammed up against one of the plastic wall barriers, you wince, almost feeling the pain yourself, and despite him always brushing it off and getting on with the game, you worry for him.

“Fucking hell. That looks like it hurts.”

Beside you is Harry, one of Tom’s brothers. You’d met him before the match when Tom had thrust a ticket at you and told you that he’d wrestled it off one of his other brothers. Your guilt had been assuaged when you’d been told that Paddy finds the finals too stressful to sit through. Harry’s been entertaining you all evening, acting as a buffer between you and his parents, who make you feel nervous being so close to.

“Shit,” you agree. You wince as Tom gets barged into and goes spiralling across the ice, only stopping when one of his teammates catches him. “This is actually brutal.”

Harry makes a low humming noise. He turns to glance at you, then he hesitantly reaches down to pat your knee.

“He’ll be fine, though, Y/N,” he says, speaking a little awkwardly. “It’s uh… just part of the job. He’s used to it. I’ve lost count of how many times he’s broken his nose.”

You hum as you think about the wonky lines of Tom’s face. “True,” you agree. You pull your team scarf further around your figure, snuggling into it in search of relief. “Just isn’t nice to see him hurt.”

Harry makes a humming sound of agreement and releases your leg with a final pat. The game continues, and before you know it, they’re into the last third. As the clock ticks down from 20 minutes, things are tense. Tom blurs with the rest of the team, and your eyes skim around all the figures, moving and spinning across the ice like it’s choreographed. There’s something quite beautiful about how they’re able to execute formations and manoeuvres amidst such chaos.

Your eyes stick to the back of Tom’s jersey, screaming Holland in bright orange. He’s closing in on an opponent, trying to steal the puck with gritted teeth. The air leaves your lungs as the scene plays out in slow motion, your eyes widening to the size of gold coins as you watch the larger man smack the puck with ferocity, attempting a shot on goal before Tom manages to steal it. Instead of the puck flying near the goal, the angle flicks it to the side, and the entire section around you gasps as it soars through the air and collides with Tom’s face. His eyes are fine, given the visor on his helmet, but his nose is exposed, and it bears the brunt.

Your heart stills for a moment, the volume of the arena fading out completely as you see Tom go down, clutching at his nose as a trail of blood drips over the ice. There’s the sound of a whistle, and you only start to breathe again when you see one of Tom’s teammates haul him from the rink. His blood freezes to the ice, leaving a trail of dark marks staining the ground behind him.

“Fuck, fuck,” you find yourself saying, finally tearing your eyes away from Tom to stare at Harry. Tom’s brother is wincing. “What do we do?”

Harry shrugs, grimacing. You look back to the ice to where Tom’s being dragged on his skates back to the team bench. You can see him smiling, but it's indisputable that he’s in pain. You can see it in his eyes, and the way his blood mixes with the salty blend of aching tears. “Can’t really do anything,” he says. “Told you his nose gets it.” Harry pauses for a moment, then gently elbows your side. “You could go down, though. They’ll probably do a quick fix in the tunnel. I doubt he’ll want to be benched for the rest of the match.”

You nod stiffly, but find yourself hesitating. “Are you, uh, sure that he’d want that? It wouldn’t be annoying?” When Harry turns to raise an eyebrow, you chuckle nervously. “I don’t want to knock him out of the zone, y’know?”

Harry’s eyes fill with understanding, but you think you can still detect a layer of teasing to it. “My brother is actually obsessed with you,” he says. “He watches compilation videos from your competitions every single bloody night. Even if you broke his heart, I doubt he’d ever be able to find you annoying. So…” Harry pokes your shoulder. “Get down there, alright?”

You shoot him a smile, unable to pretend that his words don’t warm your heart.

The game is still paused, yet you hurry down the aisle, stepping over trays of discarded nachos and half-filled plastic pints of beer as you utter words of apology to the disgruntled fans. Moving quickly, you dodge up and enter one of the back stairwells, flashing your team ID at security. The arena is a complex system of back corridors and passages, but you know them inside out.

You reach the long corridor that connects the changing rooms to the ice, and you see Tom standing in the middle of it. He’s surrounded by people—doctors, his coach, a few reserve players. Out in the arena, you hear the game pick up, but back here, time is standing still.

“Stay still,” one of the medics says. Tom grumbles something before yelling out a light curse word. The closer you walk, the more you see. Tom’s holding a bunch of stained tissues to the bottom of his nose as the medic quickly bandages his bridge. It’s not advised for him to go back on the ice with a broken nose—but you also know that with ten minutes left on the clock, the patchy fix-it job probably won’t cause permanent damage. You quite like Tom’s wonky nose, anyway.

“He’s such a twat,” Tom grumbles, wincing again. “Did he get benched?”

“Yeah. Penalty.”

“Good.” Tom folds his arms over his chest. When the medic pulls away to dig through his bag of bandages, Tom glances up the corridor. His eyes widen as he sees you, and you watch him do a double-take. When you raise a hand in greeting, his face softens. “Y/N?”

“Hi,” you call out, stepping closer. “Is it okay I’m here? I, um… I was worried.”

He nods, only to receive a scolding from the medic. Smiling sheepishly, Tom beckons you closer. He offers you a hand, gloveless and cold, and you hurry forward to take it.

“‘Course,” he murmurs. Now close, you’re able to see the flecks of dried blood on his face. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he says, speaking softly as if he knows how frazzled you feel. “Happens all the fucking time.”

“Mmm. Harry said so.”

Tom raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? How is he? Looking after you?”

You chuckle. “He’s funny,” you say. You roll your thumb over the back of Tom’s knuckles as he winces again, the medic pushing his ice pack out of the way so he can dab a wet tissue at Tom’s nostrils. You realise that his nose has stopped bleeding.

“Funnier than me?”

“Never.” You squeeze Tom’s hand. “You’re doing well out there.”

“Thanks, darling.” Tom glances away from you, looking back at the medic as he finally steps away to gather his stuff. “Can I-?”

“Yes,” the medic confirms. “Just don’t touch anyone. The second you’re done, come find me and I’ll fix you properly.”

Tom nods, then bites back a noise of pain. “Thanks, Doc,” he murmurs. Tom looks back to you, dropping his voice as you’re left alone with him. “I, uh, I gotta go,” he says, tilting his shoulder back in the direction of the ice.

“Okay.” You shoot him a soft smile and squeeze his hand before stepping back. “Good luck, Tom. Smash it.”

He pouts slightly, a wedge forming between his brows. “Kiss?”

“Kiss?” you repeat, snorting softly. When Tom nods sadly, you step nearer and press your hands to his shoulders. You lean up and capture his lips in a warm kiss, smiling into it as his palms paw at your waist. For a very brief moment, you get lost in it, overcome by the round lines of his chapped mouth and the heat of his hands, but you force yourself to step back. You can feel how badly he wants to be out on the ice. “Good luck, handsome,” you say, whispering against his lips. You step back and cross your arms, smiling widely as he blushes. “You’ve got this.”

Tom gives you a final nod, eyes alight. “See ya in ten!” he says, before turning on his skates. You stay watching him until he reaches the end of the corridor, and the smile is still on his face as he turns back to grin at you. The arena goes wild as he reappears, and you find yourself biting your lips as you try to control the butterflies in your stomach.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Tom lives about twenty minutes from the arena, and you find yourself waiting on his front step. With your knees pulled to your chin, the chill of a March evening cools your face. You don’t feel the cold much—instead, you’re distracted by the images of the team winning, playing on loop in your mind.

It’s a blur. A snapshot collection of Tom scoring the tie-breaking goal, the sight of the crowd going wild as the final buzzer sounded, the spray of champagne foam sticking to the ice. You’d hung around afterwards, receiving a very messy kiss from Tom who was vibrating from excitement. After a round of celebratory photos, Tom had been hunted down by the medics, and he’d pulled you aside briefly to ask you to meet him here.

You sigh as you stretch your legs out in front of you, looking down at the laces of your shoes and how they contrast the dark cement paving stones. Tom shares his house with Harrison and Harry. You’ve been here a few times, and it feels odd to be here without him.

“Y/N!”

You startle as you look up, so distracted by the loops of your laces that you’d failed to see Tom. He finishes clambering out of a large car, and you think you catch a glimpse of Harry in the front before it goes speeding away from the pavement. Tom approaches, his nose bruised but free of bandages, a wide smirk on his face as he picks up into a light jog. When he reaches you, he sweeps you to your feet, taking your hands firmly and kissing you before you have a chance to say a word. You shiver as he reaches up to cup your cheeks, craving the body heat, sinking into him and the scent of his fresh shampoo.

“You’re shivering,” Tom murmurs, pulling back to stare at you. His eyes widen as guilt shadows his features. “Fuck, how long have you been waiting for me?” He steps back to dig through his pocket, tongue settling between his lips as he hums.

“Ten minutes,” you estimate. When his eyes widen, you shrug bashfully. “Hasn’t been that bad. Next door’s cat came and said hi.”

Tom scowls as he steps past you, driving his key into the front door with ease. “Little ratty thing, isn’t it?” he mutters. He opens the door with a flourish, then steps aside to invite you in. When you walk across the threshold, Tom winds his arms around you from behind, pressing his chin to your shoulder before tilting his lips so he can kiss your cheek. His warm breath fans out across your face. “I’ll warm you up, darling. I’ll make you feel better.”

Ten minutes later, you’re in his bed. Despite his promise of warming you up, you seem to be losing more and more clothes. What had started out as a celebratory kiss has ended in you straddling him, grinding over Tom’s crotch as he gasps into your mouth and grabs at your waist.

You like being on top. It gives you better access to Tom—to the sight of his face constricting with pleasure every time you grind a little harder, and to the sound of his small moans. There’s a shadow along his nose and lining the swell of his cheeks from the break in his nose, and if he wasn’t so tender, you’d try to kiss it better. Instead, you decide to make him feel better in a different way. He’s calmer now than he’d been at the arena when he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off you or his lips away from your neck, but the longer you spend making out with him, the more eager he gets. There’s a dark spark in his eyes that matches the fervour in his grip.

“God,” he murmurs to your lips. “You’re such a beautiful girl.”

A hot flush travels through your body, and you shy your face into his neck. You distract him with kisses, dragging your lips over the firm flesh of his warm skin.

“Can I mark you?” you whisper, dragging your lips up to his ear. Tom moans loudly as you move your teeth over his earlobe and bite lightly.

“Fuck yeah,” he murmurs, rolling his hips up against you. You’ve ditched your jeans, and so has he, but where you’re still draped in a shirt, Tom’s chest is bare and exposed. You run your hand over his arm and feel his muscles there as you kiss up the side of his neck. Deep marks follow in the wake of your lips, but they aren’t nearly as pretty as the sound of Tom’s moans. “Fuck, darling. Shit. Feels so good.”

Tom lasts about a minute more before growling and pushing you from his neck. His eyes glint and a shrill squeal leaves your lips as he picks you up and presses you down onto the mattress. As your back sinks into the bed, the slats creak. Tom cages you in with a forearm either side of your head, one of his hands drifting into the ends of your hair as he very lightly rests his nose against yours.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.” Your smile twists a little darker as Tom rolls his hips against yours and you feel his cock straining against his boxers. You reach up to play with his hair, tugging on the strands when Tom moans. His curls are fresh and fluffy, air-dried after the shower and silky smooth to touch. You’ve been together a few times since he ate you out in the changing rooms, and though you’re yet to go all the way, you’ve picked up on a few of his preferences. “Are you okay?”

He isn’t doing much, just staring at you, lips parted. His eyes skitter across the shapes of your face before linking up with your own, and you feel your heart clench in your chest as Tom shifts his hand to cup your cheek.

“Just thinking,” he murmurs. He’s speaking quietly, voice gentle as if he’s being fragile with you. “I, um… I want to ask you something?”

You tilt your head to the side. “Right now?” you ask. To prove your point, you snake a hand down between your bodies and apply pressure to his member with the flat of your palm. Tom groans, eyelashes fluttering out across the top of his cheeks. It seems to take him a lot of self-control to nod, and you feel his hips quiver as he holds himself back from grinding into your hand.

“Yeah.” Tom takes a moment to pause. “We’ve been hanging out for a while, Y/N, and I really like you. I think that you’re so talented. And beautiful. Shit, you’re really beautiful.” He chuckles, his nerves showing on his face. “I can’t imagine being with anyone else. I wouldn’t ever want to be with anyone else. So, darling… Do you want to be my girlfriend?” He pulls back to peer at you, teeth clenched, eyes wide.

A smile breaks out across your face.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Tom,” you whisper. You lean up to kiss him just as he leans down, and you gasp as you accidentally hit Tom’s nose with yours. He groans, pulling up and dramatically falling onto his back as his limbs splay out. “Shit,” you giggle, sitting up and crawling closer. Tom’s pouting, tenderly poking at the edge of his nostril as he grimaces. “Sorry, baby.”

Tom melts, pulling you back on top of him. “Call me baby again and you can do anything you want to me,” he mutters. A small blush finds his face as he comprehends his words, and you end up smiling softly as you settle over his thighs. One of his large hands curls between your legs and you whimper as he teases you over your panties for a few moments. When he finally dips his fingers beneath the silky material, you find yourself whimpering.

“Feels good,” you moan, pressing your hands to Tom’s chest as he rolls two fingers around your slit. You get antsy and grind down against his touch, wriggling up his legs until his fingertips nudge against your hole.

His hair is spread out against the white sheets of the bed, face screwed into an expression of concentration as he curves his digits into your heat. You whimper, tossing your head back as he works you open with ease, brushing up against your g-spot and stimulating it until you’re gasping. As heat slowly begins to take over your body, you reach down to the hem of your shirt and pull it off. Next to go is your bra, and you guide Tom’s other hand to the curve of your breasts as you ride down on his hand.

“Look so pretty up there,” he murmurs, biting at his lip. “Like an angel, or a princess.” Tom skims his thumb over your nipple, smirking as you whine. “My princess.”

You gnaw on your lip for a moment before sitting up, letting Tom’s fingers slip out from you. You reach down and hook your thumbs beneath the material of his boxers, and Tom seems to get the hint.

“I need you,” you say, speaking quickly. You have to roll away to kick off your pants, and by the time you’re ready, Tom’s sitting up again. He slides up to sit against the headboard, fiddling with a condom and sheathing himself before you can spend too long admiring his length.

“C’mere then, lovie,” Tom coaxes. He pumps his cock in his fist a few times before hitting at his thighs, beckoning you forward. His lips kiss your forehead as you straddle him. Blindly, you reach down to cover his hand in yours, and together, you guide his tip to your entrance. Your slit is hot and pulsing, your body worked up from the teasing and the anticipation. “Are you sure you want this?” he asks, voice softer.

You shoot him a teasing look. “Yes,” you emphasise. You bite your lip as you slowly lower yourself onto him, gasping softly. “Been thinking about this for so long, Tom.”

Tom grasps your lower lip between his teeth, sucking on it harshly before flicking it up and stealing your mouth in a deep kiss. You moan as you settle there, in his lap, your walls stretched around him completely. You can feel everything—the curves of his cock, the press of his tip against your velvety walls, the feeling of his skin on yours. You love it.

It’s quick to become hot and intense. Tom’s hands on your waist, your fingers tangled in his hair. The stretch burns to enjoyment before long, and then you’re just lost in it. You feel so bare to him, beyond the fact that your naked bodies are intertwined so closely, like he’s able to see straight through you. For someone who spends so much of his life fighting aggressively, Tom is remarkably soft. His hips are firm, and his thrusts unrelenting, but his lips on your face are warm, and the words of heated affirmation he whispers into your ear make you melt.

“So tight, princess,” Tom moans, grasping at your waist. He kisses you, groaning into your mouth as you continue to ride him. You alternate your movements, swapping between deep bounces and swirling your hips in broad circles so that you get to feel every delicious line, bump and curve of him. “God. Feels like fucking heaven.”

“I know,” you manage, voice hoarse. You’re not embarrassed by the way there are wet sounds of arousal filling the air—it only seems to spur Tom on as he squeezes at your waist.

Things blur quickly. You can tell that he’s wound up from the stress of the game, and his hand is shaking when he reaches up to cup the top of your heat. You’re quick to match his arousal, feeling your own climax jerking closer as Tom brings his thumb down to your clit. You’re aroused, and your slit is wet, so it’s seamless as he toys with the bud.

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, the syllables blurring as your eyelids drop closed. It’s hard to tell where your body ends and his begins, but you like it. Tom wraps his other arm around your hip and holds you close, touching his lips to yours as he finally spills.

“You’re so perfect,” he moans, his eyes screwing shut. “Shit, Y/N—”

The action of him throbbing against your walls pushes you over the edge too, and you’re panting into him as warm shivers spread over your entire figure. You’re full of a golden buzz as you stop moving, stilling with his cock still pressed inside you. Tom’s lips come down over the top of your head, following in a line from your forehead down your nose before going to your lips. When he finds your mouth, both of you are smiling.

“Wish we could do that forever,” he murmurs. “Felt amazing, darling. You’re amazing.” There’s a rosy flush to his cheeks, and he looks at you like he’s won the greatest prize of the night. “Stay?”

“Overnight?”

“Yeah. Right here.” Tom reaches out to hit the mattress. “I’ll cuddle you,” he promises. “Make you tea. Bring you breakfast.” He smirks. “Make love to you all night.”

You roll your eyes.

“Okay, boyfriend,” you agree.

Tom raises a brow as if he likes the sound of that, then seals the deal with a softer kiss.

“Perfect.” His hands skim up to cup your breasts, and he pecks your lips a final time. “Girlfriend.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

There’s an hour to go before you skate in the biggest competition of your life. You’re at the largest arena in London, killing time on one of the practice rinks as you try to forget that you’re so close to delivering your final routine of the season. This routine will decide if you come out on top or not and reveal whether you’ve managed to impress the Olympic talent scouts.

You feel a blend of two very fine emotions—confidence and nervousness. You’re prepared, you’re in control, and you’re ready, but that doesn’t make the prospect of going out there any less daunting. Adrenaline soothes the nerves, and distraction is your best friend.

Tom’s sitting on one of the benches, flitting between watching you and messing around on his phone. You’ve learnt that he’s the only person you like to be around before a competition, and in the month you’ve been officially together, he’s become your rock. He seems to get you—understands the way your brain spins when you’re stressed like this, knows when to step near and when to leave you alone. As if sensing your thoughts lie with him, he glances up from his phone.

The month off from competitions has been kind to Tom. He’d had a cracking set of bruises following his broken nose, but they’re healed now, and his skin carries the golden glow of a champion. After mouthing a few words to him from across the ice, you watch him sit up straighter and put his shoes to the bench. Tom had brought his skates to the arena, despite not being the one competing, because he knows, just as you, that sometimes the best way to relax before a competition is to mess around and distract yourself. Sitting beside him is a very large banner, hand-painted, that wears the words, Go Y/N!. He’d made it with the rest of his team, and you’d almost cried when he’d unrolled it and given it to you, grinning with pride like a small child showing off his art project.

You do a few spins as you wait for him, the small practice arena blurring. A few other people are hanging around—mainly your friends, and a few coaches, but none of them pay attention to you. You go so fast that you miss whatever it is Tom scoops up from the bench and then proceeds to hold behind his back, keeping it out of your sight as he skates towards you. A frown finds your lips as you drift nearer, squinting your eyes.

“What’s that?” you ask, trying to make out the object.

Tom juts out his lower lip, eyes dancing teasingly. “Not gonna say hello, darling? That’s a bit rude, don’t you think?”

You shoot him a poisonous look but sigh when he just smirks in response.

“Hello,” you say. You skate forward, planting your hands on both of his cheeks and drawing him in close. Tom’s lips are warmer than yours, and you savour their firm press. When you pull back, you cross your arms over your chest. “What is it?”

“Close your eyes first.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

Begrudgingly, you shut your eyes. You hear the rustling of plastic, and then smell the scent of fresh flowers. Tom presses a bouquet into your hands, and your lips twist up at the corners.

“You can open them now.”

It’s a bunch of roses, dark red and delicate. You trail a thumb over their petals, breath caught in the back of your throat. Your boyfriend continues to speak as he watches you.

“You said that no one had ever bought you flowers before,” he explains, voice steady. “I was going to save them for afterwards when you win, but I know you’ll end up being given about a thousand when they all see how talented they are, so I wanted to get in first.”

You look up at him, tears blurring your waterline.

“They’re beautiful, Tom,” you whisper. His confidence in you, and the support he shows you, every single day, means everything to you. He means everything to you. “I love them. I…” You look up, meeting his eyes as you finally speak the words that you’ve felt so strongly but kept tucked away in your heart for fear of rejection. You aren’t scared anymore. “I love you.”

Tom’s eyes widen, his lips briefly parting. There’s a heart-stopping moment when he betrays nothing, but then life twitches across his face. He relaxes, sinking forward to touch your waist as he pulls you closer and brings his lips to yours.

“I love you too, darling,” he says. He’s able to press his nose against yours now, and you feel his cold tip press to your face as you shift the bouquet into one hand and curl the other around his back. “I feel like the luckiest man in the world.”

You smile against him. “It was lucky, wasn’t it? That out of all the people on the rink that day, it was me you managed to crash into.”

Tom chuckles. “Felt less like luck at the time,” he admits. “I thought you were going to kill me.”

You smirk. “I was pretty mad. Can you blame me, though?”

“Nope.” Tom kisses the tip of your nose. “Worth it, anyway.” He surprises you by skating back, plucking the bouquet from your hand with ease before spinning you beneath his arm, cooing as the hem of your dress flutters in the air. “Did I ever tell you how much I love your outfit?” he adds. “You look like a princess.”

Your cheeks hurt, and when you stop spinning, you turn to face him.

“I feel like a princess,” you admit, accepting the flowers for the second time. “Does that make you my prince charming?”

Tom nods, smiling. “It’d be an honour.”

The air between you stills, and all that’s left is love.

“I’m nervous,” you admit, glancing down. “What if I fuck this up? What if I fall over? Or- or what if I don’t land a jump? What if my ankle can’t take it?” You gnaw on your lip. “Then it’ll all be over.”

Tom soothes you with a hand on your cheek. “You won’t fuck it up,” he says, voice confident. “You’re incredible, Y/N. You know the routine, and you know yourself. You’re ready for this.” He tilts his head to the side, eyes glinting warmly. “You’re going to go out there, smash it, then you’ll come back, and we’ll celebrate. Alright?”

You look down at the roses, then back to your boyfriend’s face, and you know that you believe him.

“Okay,” you agree. You bite your lip before darting up to kiss his cheek. “Love you, Tom.”

His eyes are full of adoration. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs. “I love you too.”

Tom presses his forehead to yours, and you relax there. With your fingers grasping the flowers and his hands caressing your waist, you let him support you. You let him kiss you, and hold you, and love you.

(And, later on, you let him hold your shiny gold medal, too.)

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

i hope you guys liked dutchy as much i liked writing him :’)) this has taken almost a month! if there’s any interest, maybe we could do a hockey!tom blurb night soon...? idk ! i’d be down. let me know if you’d be too <3 thanks so much for reading!!!! please let me know what ya think!

mlist and taglist can be found through the link in my bio!

[genshin-whumpact]

Hi.

This is going to be an interesting post, so I would like to start off by saying that if you are still following me/checking on my blog/interacting with my content after my very very long period of inactivity, then thank you. I appreciate it, even thought I probably haven’t been the most interesting blog to follow, content wise anyway.

I would like to apologize for said lack of inactivity. It has been almost a year and a half since I last wrote anything for my blog, and that means many asks in my inbox have been there for a whopping 16 months or longer. There have been many things I’ve wanted to do, and for some reason I just…can’t. Whumptober was one of them. I had many ideas for it, and it never happened. Same with Whumpcember. I hyped myself up for it, only to realize that on the first day of December, there was no way I could possibly do it. I’ve had finals creep up at the last minute, and also my artistic abilities are not anywhere close to where I would like them to be.

I…honestly don’t know what to say. I’m frustrated with myself, and I’m disappointed. I created this blog to be something fun; I wanted to make my favorite type of content for my favorite game, but actually sitting down, thinking, writing is just so hard. I love writing, I really do, but I have a hard time actually doing it. And I’ve let a lot of people down. I don’t know anymore if it’s just my procrastination or perfectionism getting in the way, or if I’m just not meant to write.

It’s frustrating to want to do something and just…not be able to do it. No matter how hard you try.

But! I’m not giving up. This is not goodbye. This is final desperate attempt to get my act together and figure out just how to do this. Maybe I jumped into it too fast, making a blog on a whim and just trying to roll with it. I’ve never used tumblr before I made my blog, and it’s still taken a while to get used to everything. But I want to keep my blog, even if that means trying some new ideas. Posting my own works instead of sticking specifically to asks might be a good idea.

So in conclusion, I’m taking the month of December to figure this out. Improve my art skills, tackle a lot of those asks, maybe even dig out some of my old WIPs and introduce those to the (small) Genshin whump community. I want to enjoy my blog, and I want to make more content that I enjoy.

January 1, 2023, I will be back and posting, hopefully semi-consistently. Whether it’s asks, my own works, or art, it will be something. I promise. So thank you for your patience, and I hopefully won’t disappoint you. I look forward to seeing what the new year brings, and hopefully it is a lot of new ideas and motivation.

—Selle

[let-them-read-fics]

Yours Truly (Pt. 1)

Requested By: Some of you!

Pairing: Jisoo x Fem!Reader

AU: College

Word Count: ~ Part 1 -> 9,786 // Part 2 -> 7,433

Warnings / Misc. -- Pining, Angst, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everyone! I finally have a few days off, so we're back to our (semi) regularly scheduled programming with this fic! I really hope you enjoy it; lmk what you think :)

PS ~ Once again, I had to split it into two parts to appease the Tumblr Overlords.

♡ Happy Reading ♡

Part 2 -- Click Here

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

1.) A Day In Class

Where does true beauty come from?

Is it strictly based in someone's DNA, rooted entirely in the attractiveness of their features? Or is deeper than that; does it extend from their soul? The very essence of stardust and personality that makes them them? Is it in how they interact with others? How they carry themselves? 

You, being the wannabe philosopher that you are, love hearing people's answers to those questions. Every response is unique in its own way, altered depending on the person asked, and you find that to be one of humanity's most wonderful qualities. Like snowflakes, we're all different; as such is our definition of beauty. It lies in the eye of the beholder, subjective in its nature, and you find that comforting. Just think: if 99% of the world's population found you unattractive, 78,000,000 would beg to differ. 

Though, for one person, you're sure those rules don't apply. She's objectively beautiful, and no one even attempts to pretend otherwise. 

Who, you may ask? Kim Jisoo, of course -- head of your school's student council, resident girl next door, and keeper of your heart. She's poised in every way, and refined to the point that you question if you're even deserving of knowing her. Humor and kindness radiate from her no matter where she goes, so it's really no surprise that so many people love her. 

A tap on your shoulder pulls you from your thoughts, and you turn to look at your best friend. "Yo, Y/N. What did you get for number 32?" Jeong asks from his seat in the row directly behind you, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Your history professor likely wouldn't take kindly to being interrupted during his lecture, so you choose to show him your answer instead of responding out loud. 

Jeong thanks you and continues to work on the activity you finished nearly 15 minutes ago, leaving you to half-heartedly listen to your professor. You're a good student, but even you have a limit to how much monotonous speaking you can handle in one sitting. As his words drone on, you roll your neck -- intending for the action to relieve some of the tension in your aching muscles; you're in for a surprise, however, when you lock eyes with none other than Jisoo herself. She offers a warm smile and wave, and the innocent actions send swarms of butterflies to take flight in your stomach. After sitting there for a moment, dumbstruck by her beauty, you snap to and return the gesture, making her giggle quietly. 

Huh. So that's what angels sound like, then.

She turns back to her work after a minute, flipping the page every so often as she follows along with the lesson. You take note of how her eyes dart across the materials laid out on her desk, how her fingers mindlessly flirt with the edge of her sleeve in contemplation when she gets to a question that stumps her.

Never have you ever found yourself in such inner turmoil before. The sight before you begs to be seen -- to be admired -- but class continues on. As much as you try to fight it, your resolve eventually crumbles; foreign concepts now falling on fully deaf ears, you allow yourself to be entranced. 

2.) Out In The Square

A Few Hours Later

Throngs of people stretch out before you, everyone making their way to various parts of campus as the blazingly hot sun beats down on them. Some run like their lives depend on it -- likely having overslept or missed campus transit -- while others take their time, catching up with friends and gossiping all the while. The soft pfft of sprinklers set up across the sections of lawn around you can be heard, going off every so often, and occasionally they're followed by the shouts of some unfortunate people getting soaked. 

"You're so lucky, Y/N," Jeong groans from behind you. A grimace sits on his face as he flips through the pages of his Trigonometry book, looking for the reference graphs again. "No more classes for the rest of the week and you don't have any more assignments to finish? Remind me again how to become a teacher's pet, please." You roll your eyes with an amused smile, leaning back on your elbows to talk to him. 

"I'm not a teacher's pet, Jeong. I just do my work on time instead of partying every night." He picks up a leftover piece of bread from the picnic basket that sits to his right and tosses it at you in retaliation to your little remark. 

"I don't care what you say, those parties are always epic. One of these days I'll convince you to come along." 

You shake your head, knowing there's no way you'd willingly attend one of them. From his stories, all those "epic" nights consist of is ridiculously drunken beer pong, sweaty people doing jello shots, and regrets.

"Not in a million years, loser." You say adamantly, not letting him trick himself into believing he's capable of swaying you. 

With one last muttered phrase of, "we'll see about that," he returns to his studies, and you turn your attention elsewhere.

Scattered light filters in through the leaves of the tree you're sitting under, wrapping you in a blanket of warmth as your eyes scan across the crowd again. The sight brings to mind an idea that always fascinates you: everyone you meet is busy creating their own stories, writing and rewriting new possibilities and endings for themselves with each new choice they make. You can hear snippets of their conversations -- see instances of some having their best days while others are living through their worst -- and it really puts things into perspective. Although we may appear as side characters in those books of life that others are writing for themselves, we have no idea what they're going through at any given moment. So, you believe, that makes it all the more important to leave a positive impact on them; whether it be a kind smile, holding the door, or even a simple compliment, you're determined to have your legacy be one rooted in kindness. 

Speaking of kindness in human form…

There she is, you think to yourself, feeling that all too familiar pitter patter of your heart pick up. Jisoo exits Building C, where her latest lecture just ended, and rushes down the stairs with her books in her arms. She's studying to become an actress, as far as you know, and you can't help but smile at the thought; she'll make an amazing star someday. 

You watch as she meets up with 3 other girls, whom you immediately recognize as Lisa, Rosé, and Jennie, and they eagerly bounce their way over to the refreshment truck that one of your school's clubs had been so considerate to hire. It's the perfect day for a cold treat, after all. 

Jisoo's dark hair flows in the gentle breeze that rolls in, looking like silk as it rides the currents. She's gorgeous in every way, and you can't help but be smitten; besides, it's not like you're not alone in your pining. She practically has the entire student body wrapped around her finger. 

"Y/N, don't forget to blink. You're staring pretty hard," Yuqi says, raising up onto her elbow beside Jeong. He laughs with her, but his eyes remain glued to the notebook paper he's scribbling his work onto.

Your eyes dart away following her statement, and you know you've been caught. "I thought you were asleep," you bite back, attempting to hide the blush of embarrassment that's quickly flooding to your cheeks. 

"I was, but I guess my intuition as your best friend woke me up. It's my mission in life to tease you." 

"So I've gathered," you sarcastically smile at each other, making stupid faces like always. 

"You love me," she flips her hair over her shoulder, appearing self-assured with the smirk that tugs at her lips. 

"Do I though? I don't know sometimes..." she socks you in the arm, making you chuckle. 

"All jokes, babe. Don't pout," you pinch her cheek until she grins, and then she begins telling you all about the dream she just had. 

----

Jisoo leads her gang over to one of the nearby tables, making sure to choose her seat strategically. A special someone caught her attention earlier, as they have from the moment she first laid eyes on them months ago, and she hasn't been able to fight the urge to admire them. She watches as they laugh along with something their friend said, tilting their head back as the cheerful noise rings out. She finds herself smiling along, imagining what it would be like to make them laugh like that; it's a uniquely wonderful sound, and she can't help but adore it. 

They lean across the blanket they're sitting on and dig through a picnic basket, retrieving what seems to be a sandwich packaged up in plastic wrap. One of their friends exaggeratedly thanks them, tackling them to the ground in a messy hug with a shout of gratitude that even Jisoo can hear from across the square. 

"Earth to Jisoo!" Jennie says, raising her voice slightly as she snaps her fingers in front of the unnie. The former jolts back to attention with a little jump, clearing her throat to gather her thoughts. 

"You know, you could always go talk to him. I've heard he's sweet." She tells the other girl, noticing the look of longing that's befallen her features. 

"Yeah, Joy has Art with him on Thursdays. I think his name's Jeong or something like that." Lisa butts in before taking another lick of her ice cream. 

Despite being so smart, the girls are really oblivious sometimes; Jisoo wasn't looking at him at all. She was looking at you. 

She doesn't know if now is the right time to tell them that, though. She hasn't officially come out to them, but she isn't afraid that they won't accept her -- she just wants that moment to be special, and sweating in the middle of the campus square doesn't seem like the golden opportunity that she's been hoping for.

"Just eat your treats, knuckleheads." She concludes, taking a spoonful of the shaved ice she opted for instead of ice cream. The truck had multiple types of treats, with all kinds of different toppings and flavorings lining the walls.

"Okay…" Rosé trails off before adding, "but don't say we didn't try to help when you start wishing you had said something later." Jisoo uses her spoon to lower the one that Rosie had raised accusingly at her, reassuring the girl that she'd be fine. 

She knows it's a lie, though; as the 4 of them later toss their trash in the bins and make their way to the student council room, Jisoo sneaks a last wistful glance at you, wishing she would've had the courage to start a conversation.

3.) One Step Closer

Friday, 1:34 PM -- A Few Days Later

"Hey, Minji. How many do we have today?" You wave at what kids have already been dropped off, your presence making their little faces light up with joy. 

Your coworker responds from across the room, tossing a couple stray toys into their labeled baskets to keep the space tidy. "10 or so, I think. The last ones should be arriving soon." You nod and take off your coat, setting your things in one of the small cubbies against the wall just beyond the entrance. 

"Y/N!" A small voice shouts from behind the counter, hidden from view. You smile deeply when you realize who it is, and you quickly dart around the corner to say hello. His chubby hands cover his mouth, but they do little in hiding his adorable grin. "Seungbum! How's my little munchkin?!" He squeals and runs into your arms, giggling loudly when you pick him up and spin him around. His dark hair sways from side to side with the movement, the slight waves sticking out in random places. A few seconds later, he wraps his arms around your neck and pulls back to look at you, settling into your secure hold. 

"Can we play when Jia gets here? I promised her I'd show her the new trick I learned, but I wanna show you, too." 

You smile at the sweet sentiment. "Of course, buddy. As long as you eat well at snack time, we can play however much you want." You raise an eyebrow at him, showing your authority, before saying, "I saw you put your veggies in your pocket last time and skip to dessert, so it'd better not happen again." He lowers his head after realizing he had been caught, and a hint of redness flushes his cheeks in embarrassment. 

"Okay Y/N-yah." 

You tickle him to make sure he knows you aren't mad at him, and soon he's laughing again. "Now, go wash your hands and get settled at the table, please." 

"Yes ma'am." His tiny sneakers squeak against the floor as he races off towards one of the lowered sinks that borders the kitchen wall, and you shake your head with a smile. 

Not even a second later, you feel a soft tug at your pant leg, and you turn around to find the source. 

A head of brilliantly auburn hair is the first thing you see, and its shade compliments the child's outfit perfectly. "Hi sweetheart. Are you new?" You squat down to the young girl's level, noting how she shyly toys with her fingers as they rest in front of her. She nods, the movement so subtle that you almost don't notice it. 

"My name's Y/N, and that awesome lady over there," you lean closer to her and point towards your coworker, "...is Minji. You can stay with us today, or you can play with the others, okay?" She nods again, her mannerisms letting you know just how shy she really is. Gently taking one of her hands, you hold it and look at her with a reassuring smile, asking, "Will you tell me your name?" 

"I'm Aera." She meekly says, only maintaining eye contact for a second or two. 

"That's a beautiful name," you compliment, seeing progress as she lightly smiles at your words. "And I love your bow," you add, touching the delicate material that rests near her ear, nestled into her straight locks. It has cherry blossoms and butterflies on it, all vibrant and neatly colored. 

"Thank you, I picked it out myself." She perks up a bit now, raising her head to look at you with a proud smile. "Wow, really?" You put on an impressed expression, wanting to boost her confidence even more. "You'll have to help me choose one the next time I go shopping, then. You're great at it." The praise makes her chuckle, and her eyes squint into soft crescents in the process. 

After stealing a glance at the table where everyone else has already gathered, you realize that they're waiting on you to start. "Alright, Aera, it's time to grab a bite to eat. Do you want to sit with me, or are you ready to be with the others?" You tilt your head to the side, asking the question softly so she doesn't feel overwhelmed. Having had this job for a while, you've gotten the hang of adjusting your behavior to put them at ease. 

"With you," she says, growing a little timid again at the idea of mingling with them yet. "That's perfectly fine." You reassure her, smiling one more time before standing and leading her to the room. Her hand remains clutched in yours, wiggling around slightly from the height difference as she looks around. 

"Who's ready for some snacks?" Minji asks the group, laughing when they all raise their hands and get excited. Their high pitched voices carry around the room as they discuss what foods they want to trade with each other, and soon everyone is happily munching away. You rub Aera's back sweetly as she eats some cucumber sticks, swinging her feet through the air beneath the short chair you retrieved from the table for her. She looks up into your eyes with a smile, melting your heart with the cuteness of her full cheeks. You squish them before turning away, feeling your 6th sense kick in as you scan your eyes across the rest of the group. 

"Seungbum…" you warn, catching the way he's mischievously eyeing the carrots laid out before him on the table. He pokes at one of them and sighs, eventually giving in as he takes a hesitant bite of it. With some more convincing, he finishes the rest of the pack and gets started on his dessert. 

----

Honestly, you feel sorry for the birds outside.

They must have had hundreds of mini heart attacks upon hearing the somehow earth-shattering roar of the 10 young kids, all blasting out the side door towards the playground. Some of them automatically race towards the swings or slides, while others approach the basket of toys and sports equipment. Aera, however, hangs back, her entire hand wrapped around just a few of your fingers. "What do you wanna do?" She shrugs, looking around at the different activities that the others are already starting. 

"I can push you on the swings, or we could race. There're some monkey bars and a merry-go-round, too, that nobody's using right now." You suggest, hoping to catch her interest with one of them. Her attention snaps up to you at that last option, and she dramatically drops her jaw. "Did you say merry-go-round?" You nod with an amused grin, laughing when she lets out a cute noise of joy. After pointing her in the direction of it, she dashes off ahead of you and makes her way to it, only stopping to make sure you're still coming with her once she gets there.

"Hold on tight, little one." You advise, cheering when she giggles in anticipation. Her chuckles fill the airwaves as you spin the bar around, making sure not to pull too hard and make her too dizzy. You were once a kid, too, though, so you make it a point to add some serious speed every now and then to keep her entertained and happy. You remember playing on these all day when you were her age.

---

"Auntie!" Aera shrieks, excitedly thundering towards the fence that borders the playground. You finish cheering Seungbum on after watching his trick, grinning as he tries to flirt with Jia; she looks impressed. You turn around at Aera's commotion, feeling your eyes practically pop out of your head at who you see standing on the other side. 

"How was your day, my love?" Jisoo asks sweetly, leaning over the metal divider to run a hand through her niece's hair lovingly. She still hasn't noticed your presence, and for that you don't know if you're relieved or saddened. Watching her interact with the young girl is quite adorable, though, and you're distracted from your personal gay panic for the time being. 

"I've had so much fun. And Y/N-yah said she likes my hair clip! I told you this one was prettier than the one with just trees on it!" Aera says smugly, happy to have her decision pay off and prove her aunt wrong. Jisoo tenses up, not expecting to hear your name right now. Seeing that this is her first time picking Aera up, she had no idea you work at the daycare; though she'd be lying to say that it comes as a surprise -- you're a very warm person, so it's no wonder that you're good with kids. 

As per Aera's request, you walk across the playground and join her in front of Jisoo. Now it's your turn to be shy; you sneak a glance at the student council president and immediately feel your cheeks heat up, so you busy yourself by patting Aera on the head. She hugs your leg and settles against your side, causing Jisoo to raise her eyebrows. "I'm impressed, Y/N. She usually doesn't open up to new people very easily." 

"Ah, I'm surprised that such a cool girl like her wanted to hang out with me." You tease, tickling her side lightly when she hides behind the material of your shirt. "Do you want to come in and see what she drew today? She's definitely skilled." You suggest, trying not to sound too hopeful as you muster up the courage to look at Jisoo again. She's already smiling at you, a soft sort of adoration shining in her eyes as they rake over your features. She accepts your offer, and you walk over to the gate to let her in. Aera demands that you carry her, so you scoop her up into your arms as you make your way back into the daycare center. Her head sits on your shoulder, and you can feel her playfully making faces at Jisoo the entire way; her tiny frame jolts with each loud giggle she lets out, and the sound makes you smile. 

---

"Yeah, she was my sidekick for the day." You respond to Jisoo, continuing your conversation as you watch Aera remove her drawing from the cork board that she taped it to earlier. Displaying the kids' artwork is something that you advocated for when you first began working here, and you're so glad you did; they always get excited to share their works. 

"She's a lucky girl, then." She says, doing her best to ignore the feeling of your eyes on her. Focusing on anything other than you is already hard enough for her, but she knows there'd be no hope left if she gives in now. 

"Y/N helped me draw this. She doodled Dalgom in the corner," Aera cheerily says, breaking the slight tension in the air as she approaches the table. Most of the other kids have already been picked up, and Minji's watching the handful that haven't. 

"It's not very good," you cringe, scratching the back of your neck. You've seen him a few times since the beginning of the year, whether it be on walks across campus with Jisoo, or perched on her desk during "bring your pet to class" day. 

"It's adorable; Dalgomie will be honored when I show it to him." Jisoo says with a nod, shutting down your insecurities within a second. You fail to contain the laugh that slips past your lips, disbelief present in your voice as you ask, "You're going to show him?" She looks at you like you have 3 heads. "It would be a disgrace not to."

With a breathy chuckle, you say, "You're so strange. I like it, though." 

Jisoo smiles at that, and the three of you discuss all of the fun things you did that day. Jisoo tells you about the classes she had to sit through, and even how she stepped in gum and had to borrow a pair of Rosé's shoes. 

---

All good things must come to an end, though, and after about half an hour of talking, it was time to say goodbye. 

You lead them out the door and down the sidewalk as per Aera's request, yet again (that child is basically a mini dictator at this point, but she's cute so she gets a free pass). As she rustles around her bag in search of her keys, Jisoo accidentally knocks her earbud case out, sending it tumbling to the ground. "Oh! Here, I'll grab it for you." You kindly offer, stepping past her to retrieve it from the grass. She takes it from you with a word of gratitude uttered in that angelic voice of hers, and you begin your goodbyes upon hearing Minji call your name. 

"I'll see you around, Jisoo. And Aera, I expect to see you next week." You wiggle a finger at the little girl, donning a shocked expression when she pretends to bite it. "Can't you tell we're related?" Jisoo asks with a smile, ruffling her niece's hair. "The resemblance is uncanny," you laugh, watching as both of them join in with you. 

"Y/N, come on!" Minji whines, sounding like a toddler herself. You initially go to brush off her request in order to spend a few more seconds with the two of them, but when she stands in the doorway, entering your line of sight, you see why she's so desperate for your help -- two of the children still waiting on their parents are climbing on her, about to knock her over at any second. Her face is beet red from the effort she's exerting, and her hair is mussed wildly. 

"Oh shhh---" you start, catching yourself when Jisoo widens her eyes at you and goes to cover Aera's ears, "--shiitake mushrooms!" You finish with a nervous smile, gaining a stunned laugh from your crush. "Bye girls; gotta go. I'm on my way, Minji!" You call out like a superhero, running to her aid as fast as your legs will carry you. 

Jisoo watches you wrangle one of the squirmy kids off of her and initiate a tickle fight to distract him and give Minji time to deal with the other one. She smiles like a dork at your actions, realizing she would be content with watching you all day. You're a natural with them, and seeing you in action is something she wishes she had the chance to do more often. With that, she turns around and picks Aera up; the youngster nuzzles into her embrace, lazily slumping onto her after having such a tiring day. As Jisoo goes to take a step forward, she notices something on the ground: a piece of paper. It's been folded neatly many times, and it reminds her of the notes she would always pass to her friends back in elementary school. Her curiosity gets the better of her, and she can't resist the urge to pick it up. 

"To The Girl Who'll Never Know I Love Her"

Her eyes scan across the words and she unfolds the note, making sure to keep a steady grip on Aera with her other arm. An almost unnoticeable signature is scribbled in the bottom corner, and she nearly scares Aera by squealing in pleasant surprise. 

It's your name, curled into the letters that are so uniquely yours; the paper must've fallen out of your pocket when you bent down to get her case earlier. 

After buckling her niece into her car seat and climbing into the driver's seat, Jisoo unfolds the note again and begins reading. She's like a giddy kid all over again, and part of her feels bad for giving into temptation. She reasons with herself by promising to give it back to you the next time she sees you, and that manages to rid her conscience of some of the guilt she feels. For now, though, she's eager to see what it contains. 

The first thing to catch her eye is a poem written neatly underneath a doodle of a rabbit, likely serving as some sort of label. Everyone on campus knows of her nickname and resemblance to rabbits, and she can't help but hope that your drawing wasn't simply a coincidence. 

Poison, is what you are

A bittersweet mix, intoxicatingly beautiful 

For one glance from you

Steals every breath I had so foolishly believed was mine to take

For one smile from you

Sends me reeling, falling all over again

She nearly swoons at the words, rereading them multiple times over and imagining you saying them to her. She wonders how the syllables would fall from your lips, which ones you'd stress to alter the meaning into whatever you imagined when you wrote them. Whether or not they're written for her, she may never know; all she's aware of right now is how they make her feel, and how that feeling is one that she never wants to stop experiencing.

4.) Practice Makes Perfect

2 Weeks, 3 Exams, and 1 Mental Breakdown Later

"Coming!" You call out, using all of your strength to push your rolling chair away from your desk and across the room towards the door. 

"Y/N L/N, at your service," you say, doing a little bow in your seat. Upon looking up to see who's in front of you, your eyes lock with the same girl who's been living in your mind rent free ever since you met her. 

"Jisoo!" You announce a little louder than intended, scrambling up into a standing position before kicking the chair backwards. You wince when it collides with something behind you, filling the room with noise as a few of your knick knacks clatter to the floor. Jisoo has to fight to contain the smile on her lips, pursing them as she looks towards the ground so as to not embarrass you. 

It's too late though -- you've already made a fool of yourself, and right in front of your crush, no less. 

"What can I do for you?" You ask, finally relaxing your face from its previously scrunched up position. 

"Are you busy right now? I have a favor to ask and you might be the only person who can help me out." Her eyebrows raise inquisitively at you, quirking up in that special way they always do when she's focusing in class. 

She could ask you to do just about anything, and you'd be agreeing without hesitation; no questions asked. 

"N-no, just doing a little studying is all. How can I help?" You'd normally curse yourself for sounding so shy, but she looks especially gorgeous tonight and you can't even blame yourself for it. The fluorescent bulbs of the dorm's hallway fail to even put a dent in the glow she's radiating, and that's no small feat -- those horrible little things are usually capable of making anyone look bad, and yet, once again, Jisoo manages to break the mold. 

"Mrs. Choi assigned a rehearsal for me tonight, and I need a peer to score how well I do. I trust you to do it." She says, having no idea how much her words are affecting you. 

Review portions of the semester are crucial to every major's success, but arguably none so much as those studying to be actors. The peer and admin reviews that they receive account for a large chunk of their grade, so you can imagine how nerve-racking it would be to put that kind of power in someone else's hands. You're touched that she trusts you with it. 

"I'd love to help, Jisoo. Just curious, though: why don't you have one of the girls help? They probably know more about it than me, after all." Everyone knows how close JenChuLiChaeng are, so her decision to choose you is genuinely intriguing. 

Shit. For some reason, Jisoo hadn't anticipated that you'd ask that question. The thought had never crossed her mind earlier, when she was preoccupied with convincing herself to come in the first place, so she has to think something up on the fly. 

"They're all busy with work. Couldn't afford to lose any precious cramming time, you know?" She says, a hint of nervousness behind the small laugh she lets out. It's uncharacteristic for her, considering she's usually so confident all the time, but you think it's adorable.

"Ryujin's the same way," you tease, turning your head to look at your roommate. She's across the room on her bed, reading through her book as she holds her middle finger up to let you know she heard your comment. "What a sweetie," you coo, blowing a kiss at her that makes her roll her eyes and smile despite herself. She pretends to be hardcore, but after spending the past few months with her you've discovered that she's actually the human embodiment of a cinnamon roll. 

"Well," you say, turning back to Jisoo, "when do you have to start?" 

She pulls her sleeve back to glance at her watch before returning her gaze to you. "Gotta be back at the dorm in 10 minutes." 

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, the inner honor student in you already panicking. "10 minutes?! It's all the way across campus, Jisoo!" 

She laughs at you now, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. "I'm kidding; we still have a couple hours. You should've seen your face, though. Priceless." 

"That's no way to treat someone who practically has your grade resting in their hands." You say smugly, a little smirk playing on your lips when her jaw drops dramatically.

"You wouldn't dare," she narrows her eyes, referencing the notion that you might give her bad marks because of that little prank. 

"Maybe, or maybe not. Perhaps I'll be merciful if you take me to get something to eat first." 

"Food as a peace offering? Alright, I can do that."

You smile, doing a dorky little cheer at that. "Okay, I'll be right out; just give me a second to make myself look presentable." 

Jisoo accepts your words with a curt nod, but she wants to tell you that you already look more than presentable. When you first opened the door earlier and she saw you in your study glasses, she couldn't help but smile like a fool; you're adorable, especially to her, and she wishes you could see that. 

A couple minutes later you exit your dorm and find her leaned up against the hallway wall, her hands fidgeting in front of her. Is she nervous?

"So, where would you like to go?" You ask, pulling the thin material of your jacket over your shoulders. It's lightweight -- seeing as how the weather doesn't call for a large one -- and it feels soft against your skin. 

As the two of you fall into step with each other, she responds, "It's up to you, princess. Since I'm at your mercy and all." Her smirk is visible in your peripheral. 

The nickname causes your heart to flutter in your chest, thudding around even harder than it had before. "U-uh, how about the noodle place?" You suggest, trying not to cringe at the stutter in your voice. You've heard that she likes chicken and ramen, and that shop is known as the best restaurant on campus for it. 

"110%. You know me so well," she says dreamily, batting her eyelashes at you with a silly smile. 

"Called it," you retort, brushing your shoulder off nonchalantly. "Now come on, I'm hungry and ready to spend all of your money." Her hand slips into yours when you reach down for it, almost instinctively, feeling like it was meant to be there all along, and you tug her down the hallway towards the elevator. 

----

"I know! If Mr. Johnson assigns another project like that then I'll politely be jumping out a window." 

Jisoo laughs at how animated you are, even having to stop chewing her mouthful of food momentarily to make sure she doesn't choke. She really loves hanging out with you; you make everything fun, and all of the stress she feels on a daily basis seems to vanish into thin air. 

"I did pretty bad on that last one," Jisoo adds, grimacing as she remembers her score. 

"You literally got a 93 out of 100, shut up." You shake your head with an amused smile, reaching across the table to snatch a piece of gimbap from her plate. 

"Hey--" she goes to yell at you, but her phone vibrates against the table, successfully stopping her. 

"Hello?" She answers, silently starting a chopstick war with you when you reach for another piece. When the person on the other end begins talking, she stops playing in order to concentrate on what they're saying. 

"Did she cancel?" She asks, furrowing her brow as her lips form into a natural pout. She sighs, rubbing her temple gently as the conversation continues. "Okay, I'm out with a friend right now, but you can go ahead and head that way. We'll meet you there. Alright, love you, too. Bye." 

You raise an eyebrow, wordlessly requesting info about what new plan you're being involved in. "That was my brother; the babysitter cancelled on them last minute, so we have to watch Aera for a few hours." Jisoo loves her niece dearly, but she can't deny that she wanted to spend the evening alone with you. She's afraid the little girl will steal all of your attention away, as childish as that may seem. 

"You're such a good person," you compliment, only to frown when she brushes off your words. "I mean it, Jisoo. You always take care of everybody around you; it's admirable. Now take the compliment or I'll team up with Aera later and tease you." 

She rolls her eyes with a smile, saying, "You're gonna do that regardless." 

"That's not the point," you pout, stomping your foot on the ground lightly. 

"Fine; tis I, Jisoo, the greatest person in all of existence. Happy now?" 

"Ecstatic." You beam at her, returning back to your cheery self. "I'll go grab some boxes for us, okay?" She nods, and you scurry off on your mission. 

----

Back At Jisoo's Dorm

Images flash across the large, flatscreen TV mounted to the wall across from you, displaying scenes of whatever cartoon the network decided to air right now. Aera isn't being picky; she's content with sitting in your lap, mindlessly fidgeting with the necklace that loosely dangles from your neck as she remains entranced by the screen. Your arms are around her to make her feel secure, and her small frame racks against you with every sweet giggle she lets out anytime a new joke is told by one of her favorite characters. 

Jisoo observes from the kitchen, leaning back against the countertop to settle in while she waits for Aera's favorite snack to heat up. She watches as you point to various things on the TV, having her name the ones she knows and teaching her others that she doesn't. 

She loves seeing you like this. You're beaming in that special way that sets her heart on fire, and the flames are only fanned when you turn to look at her. Somehow, the sight reminds her of the first time she met you:

It was orientation week -- the beginning of the school year -- and you were taking a tour around campus with some of your friends. You were lucky to have them; you'd only kept in contact with a handful of people from high school, knowing full well that most of those relationships were only rooted in superficiality, never meant to last. But this motley crew was different; they saw you for you, and all of you genuinely enjoyed each other's company. It didn't have the same air of awkward tension as the fake friendships had -- this was real and honest, and you thanked your lucky stars for them on the daily. 

All of you had managed to get into your dream schools, and the reality was bittersweet; you'd all be moving away from each other and beginning your own lives, having less and less time for each other in the process. You were beyond proud of them, and yourself, for that matter, but it still hurt to think that they wouldn't be just a few blocks away anymore. That you couldn't just swing by their house to go on a late night drive through the city like you used to. As exciting as your new experiences were bound to be, part of you was terrified; your life up until now had been fairly safe, creating a little security blanket to protect you from all that life had in store, but now you were on your own and the idea was a bit daunting. The memories you made together comforted you, though, and kept the sadness at bay. 

"Dude, this place is sick. How did you manage to make it in again?"

"Because she's smart, dumbass. We should be asking you that question."

"Ouch, (Friend's Name), that hurt."

"Do you still have those chips from earlier? I'm starving over here."

"Yeah, here, they're in my bag."

Pockets of separate conversations can be heard from behind you, all of your friends chatting away while you walk ahead of them, map and schedule in hand. The campus is fairly large, and with so many buildings and classrooms it's easy to get confused. You continue walking, running a finger along the map to trace the path you intend to take towards the Help Center. 

In your preoccupied state, you don't even realize that you're headed straight for a trash can that sits on the sidewalk, mere seconds away from colliding with it. 

A passerby notices just in the nick of time, reaching an arm out in front of you to prevent the accident with a noise of warning. You tense up, not expecting the sudden interruption, and look up into the eyes of your savior. Her dark orbs peer back at you, an innocent gleam in them when she sees your lips slowly tug into a smile. 

She mirrors your actions, neither of you saying anything yet. You couldn't utter a word even if you wanted to; her beauty leaves you speechless. 

"That was close," she says quietly, only to you. Your friends have almost caught up with you now, still busy with their own conversations, though they'll tease you once they see a gorgeous stranger's arm wrapped around you. 

"Thank you," you breathe out, clearing your throat as you take a step away from her. 

"Ooh, who's this, Y/N?" One of your friends coos, garnering a chorus of childish "oohs" and kissy noises from the others. Why are they so obnoxious?

You apologetically glance at the girl one more time before turning around to respond to them, but she speaks up before you can. 

"Kim Jisoo." She introduces, facing them with a wide smile. It's easy to see that she's done this before; her tone is pleasant and light, not even a hint of hesitancy in it. She's used to being the center of attention; you can tell by the way she carries herself and commands the space. 

"I see you guys are taking a tour, right?" She looks between all of you, though her eyes linger on you for a second too long to be brushed off as 'just friendly'. 

You nod, saying, "I can't find my last class. It's a Gen Ed one; World History, room 435. The map says it's in Complex D, but the room was vacant when we went by."

She listens intently, paying attention to your every word. "They must've handed out the old maps by accident, then. Mr. Johnson had to move rooms to accommodate larger class sizes. When do you have him?" 

You unfold your schedule again, gazing down at the slightly crumpled sheet until your eyes find their target. "Tuesdays and Thursdays, 1PM." 

Upon registering what you said, Jisoo does her best to contain the grin that threatens to spread across her face. "Ah, same as me! I can take you to the room, if you'd like. That way you can find it next week." She offers, pleased by the fact that she'll be seeing you more often. Your cute mannerisms have already thrown her for a loop, and she wants to get to know you better. 

"That would be great." You let out a relieved laugh, releasing the worry you felt; tours are meant to end within 20 minutes or so, and before Jisoo came you were afraid you'd never find your last class. She's saving the day again, it seems. 

"Great, follow me," she smiles warmly, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back to turn you in the right direction. When you give your friends one last glance over your shoulder, you find them giving you thumbs up with smirks on their faces. One of them puckers their lips at you, and you stick your tongue out in return. 

You're not sure what they'll end up doing while you finish your tour, though it'll likely involve either skating or eating fast food. They have each other to keep themselves entertained, so you're not worried about them in the slightest. You make a mental note to text them when you're done to meet up again. 

Jisoo smiles like an idiot when she realizes what's happening behind her, failing miserably to hide it when you spin back around and give your full attention to her. 

"What?" You ask, leaning in closer to her to nudge her shoulder when she looks away, blushing. 

"Nothing," she shakes her head, only to be prompted by you again. "You're just cute, is all." 

You have to use all your power to hold back the squeal you want to let out at hearing that. Kim Jisoo, as you now know her to be, thinks you're cute? You must be dreaming. 

"That's funny, I don't remember turning into a mirror."

"Yah, babo!" She chuckles, not expecting that as she smacks the back of your head with no real force. The two of you share a laugh and continue talking while you make your way to the room.

Beeping sounds from the microwave bring Jisoo back down to Earth, causing the pleasant memory to fade more and more with every incessant signal that cuts through the air. She grabs a couple heat guards and approaches the machine, carefully opening the steaming package and pouring its contents into a big, shareable bowl. Though it may be Aera's favorite food, she'd be damned to not make enough for the two of you as well. After all, keeping her entertained will take plenty of energy. 

"Did this princess order one heaping bowl of popcorn or am I at the wrong castle?" Jisoo plays, padding into the room with a bright smile on her face as she looks over at her niece. The smell of her snack snaps Aera back to reality, making her eyes light up with pure joy as she leaps off of your lap and runs to Jisoo. She wraps her arms around her legs, thanking her in that sweet little voice of hers as she gazes up at her aunt with stars in her eyes. 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She chants, wiggling her body around in excitement. She lets go when Jisoo goes to walk to the couch, following close behind her like an eager puppy. 

She approaches you again, making grabby hands for you to lift her onto your lap even though she's more than capable of getting up there by herself. Nevertheless, you pull her up with a humored grin, watching as she puts her hands in her lap and patiently waits for the two of you to get a bite first. Her ability to follow manners is commendable, though the slight twitch of her lip when she gets a whiff of the food is pretty adorable. 

"Dig in," you say around your mouthful of food, locking eyes with Jisoo when Aera jumps at the opportunity to follow your instructions. You never have to tell her twice when it comes to food. 

"Yep, definitely related." 

Jisoo laughs at your comment, reaching over top of Aera to flick you in the forehead. She shrugs at your pained exclamation, uttering a nonchalant "Sorry, not sorry," as the two of you crack up together.

----

"Y/N, how the hell did you manage to do that?" Jisoo whispers, not bothering to censor herself when she sees Aera fast asleep in your arms. It's not like she could hear her anyway. 

"She was already kinda tired when she got here; I just made sure to get that last little bit of energy out with the games. Have you forgotten that I know a thing or two about kids?" You tease, turning to her with a smile when you finish walking up the short staircase. 

"You don't understand: usually it takes us hours to settle her down. She's just a totally different person around you." 

"Must be my awesomeness." 

"Hmm, must be," Jisoo hums, quietly opening her bedroom door for you and watching as you carefully lay Aera down. You tuck her under the blankets with care, making sure to brush the hair out of her face and adjust her pillow a bit. Jisoo leans against the doorframe, adding the scene before her to her list of reasons for loving you. Seeing you in such a domestic situation gives her baby fever, and she has to push the persistent feeling away. 

"Ready?" You whisper with one last look over your shoulder, giving Jisoo your undivided attention once you confirm that Aera's alright. 

"Let's do it," she says, pulling the door to but not latching it. The two of you will be in the living room, just down the hall, and you want to be able to hear her in case she needs something. So responsible.

You take in the dorm as Jisoo leads you towards your destination, amazed at how much bigger it is than yours and Ryujin's. This one has separate rooms equipped with their own personal bathrooms, a decent kitchen, and, of course, a living area. Clearly, having ties to the school and being president of the student council come with some major perks. Your socked feet pad against the hardwood floor, and you close what little distance is left between Jisoo and yourself to press your body against her back, wrapping your arms around her. She lets out a little noise of surprise, but doesn't protest; she tucks one of her hands into your clasped ones and uses the other to rub your forearm. 

A few moments later you plop down onto the couch and get comfortable on the cushions. Jisoo digs around in her bag that leans against the tv stand, searching for the script of her upcoming production. Her shirt rides up slightly, giving you a perfect view of her beautifully sculpted stomach, and her skin looks ethereal as it glows in the soft lamplight of the room. Embarrassed for admiring her in such a way, you avert your gaze, failing to notice how she subtly bites her lip as she approaches you; she planned that little show, and it worked. 

"Okay, so here's the scoring sheet," she hands you a semi-formal looking paper, along with a pencil and clipboard to use as a stabilizer. "I'll be reading from the first few pages on my own, but I was wondering if you'd fill in for the male lead for some of the other parts? It's a lot easier to get into character if I have someone's energy to feed off of." 

You smile at how cute she sounded with her little rambled request, and nod. "Of course, Jisoo. I doubt I'll be any good, though." She releases a sigh at that, happy to have you agree; her plan is coming along nicely, but there's always room for things to go wrong. 

"I'm sure you're better than you think." 

"Stop sucking up, Chu. Flattery won't make me raise your grade," you warn, pointing the pencil at her sternly. Your tone sends a shiver down her spine, though it goes unnoticed by you. 

"Let's just get started." She concludes, doing her best to keep from getting too flustered under your already watchful eye. 

----

Her show is well underway, caught somewhere towards the end of act two, and you're enthralled by the performance she's giving. The paper that once rested in your lap is marked up with comments of praise and proud annotations to accompany your high scoring, though now it lays forgotten about on the coffee table, serving no purpose any longer. You finished all of the required sections necessary for your peer review, and now you're just enjoying the journey that Jisoo is continuing to take you on. 

You look back up into her eyes after reading off the lines of the character you're filling in for, looking completely unskilled next to the pure talent that she's exuding. She stands from the couch, looking down at you with an exasperated expression as she remains in character. 

"You don't get it!" She raises her voice slightly, though not loud enough to wake Aera. Even while in the intense mindset she has to be in for her character, she keeps one foot in the reality of this world, making sure to behave appropriately. 

"Enlighten me, then." You stand and retort, shifting a bit closer to her after reciting your line. 

"Only when I'm with you do I feel true happiness. Your kind eyes bring me comfort like no other; I'm safe in your arms. For you, my love," she pauses, her eyes brimming with tears from the emotional words she's spent so much time rehearsing. "...there isn't a thing in this world that I wouldn't do." Your breath is held tightly in your throat, and your hands subconsciously grip onto the material of your jeans. 

Only now do you realize how close the two of you have migrated to one another; she's merely a breath away, so close you can feel the warmth radiating from her. You swallow thickly, feeling your nerves come alive with every second that passes in heated silence, neither of you knowing what to do now. You've lost the desire to read your next line, and she doesn't seem too upset by that fact. Her eyes slowly scan over your features, and the lovesick look in them makes you question if she's still in character or slipping out of it. 

After her gaze darts down to your lips and she licks her own without even realizing it, you seriously begin hoping for the latter of the two options.

She searches your face for any sign of refusal as she leans in closer, now bringing her arms up to wrap around your waist and lightly ball the material of your shirt up into her fists. Your hands rest on her shoulders, and you glide your fingertips over her jawline. A singular nod is the last form of consent that you give her before she pulls you closer. 

Her lips ghost over yours, receiving some of the vanilla balm you applied earlier; her breath hitches when you tug at the collar of her university sweater, teasingly taking her bottom lip between your teeth. She wants to savor this moment, so she fights against her urge to dive right in and get lost in you. 

Within seconds, she's kicking herself for that decision. 

"Auntie? Y/N?" Aera calls sleepily from just around the corner, making the two of you spring away from each other. When she appears less than a second later, you realize how close you had been to getting caught. Jisoo refuses to meet your gaze when you look towards her, and that simple action disheartens you a bit.

"Hey, sweetheart. Bad dream?" You ask, using your inference skills after noticing the way that she's clutching her stuffed bunny close to her chest. Her lip trembles as she nods, and the sight breaks your heart. Quickly, you pick her up again, assuring her that she's safe and that you'd slay any monster that dared to hurt her, even in her dreams. A small smile tugs at her lips, and she brings a fist up to rub her eye. "How about this: I'll do a quadruple check of the room for you, and stay with you until you fall asleep. Sound good?" 

She utters a tired, "Yes, Y/N-yah", before laying her head on your shoulder and waving a goodbye towards Jisoo as you take her back to the room. 

Four sweeps of the room and one fight with a ghost later, you tuck her in again and lay a sweet kiss to her forehead. "Love you," she mumbles lazily, making your heart melt. Kids say that phrase quickly, without even realizing the weight that it has, but you're always glad to accept whatever they imagine it to be. Whether she loves you for playing with her, tucking her in, or defending her honor against imaginary monsters, you don't really care all that much -- she loves you in the ways that she knows how, and that's all that matters.

"I love you, too, Aera. Sleep well." You tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and settle against the wall, prepared to come through on your promise. 

----

"Hey," you start, albeit a bit awkwardly. 

"Hey," Jisoo returns, pushing her leftovers from the restaurant around her plate half-heartedly. You approach the marble countertop that she sits behind, silently begging for her to look up at you. 

"Should we talk about earlier?" You quietly ask, picking at imaginary imperfections on the surface of the countertop. 

"What about it?" 

"We practically kissed--"

"It was in the script to do so, Y/N." She says, finally looking up at you. She sounds a bit hostile now, like she's getting defensive for some unknown reason. 

"Oh," the simple utterance is all you can manage, seeing as how your brain is running a mile a minute. You want to ask if it meant anything else to her -- if she would've taken it farther, had Aera not walked in -- but you don't.  Her tone serves as enough of an answer, and you're not sure you could stand to hear her verbalize your fears anyway. 

"Well I guess I should go, then." You retract your hand and put it in your pocket, realizing how stupid you were for thinking she could like you back. She doesn't; she was just in need of a helping hand tonight, and you offered that. You shouldn't have tried to turn it into anything that it wasn't. 

Hearing the disappointment in your voice makes her want to confess right then and there, but something still holds her back -- some force is yelling at her to keep her feelings hidden for fear of rejection. "I can drive you." 

You shake your head. "Nah, it's okay. I'll have Ryujin come get me. You can't leave Aera here and I wouldn't want to have to wake her up just for you to drive me across campus." Jisoo agrees, realizing that she didn't even think about that at first. 

"Goodnight, Jisoo." You say, heading off towards the front door. She returns the gesture, reminding you to be safe as she locks it behind you and watches you dial up your roommate's number. Before long, she pulls into one of the parking spaces in front of the dorm, and the two of you drive away. 

Click Here For Part 2

[blindrapture]

(”A Decade,” a post for the blog What is the Fear Mythos?)

Today is February 14th, 2021. Today is the birthday of our mythos's primary founder, CuteWithoutThe. On Cute's sixteenth birthday, they began organizing the Fear Mythos, getting into contact with the other two founders, alliterator and LizardBite, and planning some of the first stories. Because of this, it is tradition to consider the anniversary of the Fear Mythos to "begin" on February 14th.

Two weeks later, on the last day of the month, Cute posted a thread on TVTropes officially laying out the plans and inviting participation. While by this point we still were not even called "the Fear Mythos," it is tradition to consider the anniversary of our mythos to "end" on February 28th.

Again, today is February 14th, 2021. Cute's sixteenth birthday was ten years ago.

The Fear Mythos is turning ten years old.

Now, in practice, this might not mean much out of the ordinary. Members of the community generally collaborate for the "Fearniversary" in writing an anniversary tournament blog, and this year that is definitely a thing, this is a nice celebration. Getting to an anniversary at all is a cause worth celebrating.

But ten years, wow. There probably is a lot that can be said, in a sentimental sense. Our mythos has seen a lot of blogs over these ten years. We've seen some vlogs too. And we've even seen some games and musical outputs. There have been physical books, podcasts, communities on various websites; there have been busy years, quiet years, and years in between. People have come and gone, the popular monsters to be used in our stories have changed back and forth, and.. well, ten years have passed and yet this mythos does not die.

I have to acknowledge that not one of our three founders has been active in the mythos for some time. I, DJay, am the "oldest" member still sticking around, and even then I'm not that active, not even in my own stories. For some, this is an appeal of our community: It's quiet, a place to read stories and throw ideas around. I did oversee an overhaul several years ago with the express purpose of "futureproofing" our central concepts, the hope being that, no matter how quiet our community became, the ideas would stick around. For better or for worse, the quiet is something for which we were prepared.

I bring this up because something about a "tenth anniversary" feels like the sort of Big Deal that may bring about a change in activity. It's probably the significance inherent in a double-digit number. That's a very human thing. (Like, seriously, very human. The number 10 is only significant to us because we operate under base-10 assumptions, and those are predicated on the number of fingers we have. But I don't need to tell you any of this, not on the surface of what this post is about.) A group that has persisted for a decade has relative age, and age is associated with experience, experience with knowledge, knowledge with a social fertility that "could go Big with just the right input." All of which is to say: Ten is a very different age for a single human than it is for a group of fiction writers.

We have been quiet. Next, we might try something else. That's a scary idea in and of itself, isn't it? A good creepy story: The Day The Mythos Went Big.

I'm playing around, here. The Fearniversary is a communal event, like a damn two-week festival; this is the most appropriate time to dress ourselves up in masks and pretend to be what we haven't yet been, to turn our thoughts to the stars and dream big, to hit upon emotional changes which take us resolutely into the new year renewed and ready for what it may bring.

The Fear Mythos, you see, is yours. Our monsters, the Fears, are legally considered "Creative Commons Attribution," meaning you can do whatever you want with them so long as there's even an implicit acknowledgement of the greater mythos's existence. This is worth spelling out, even to veterans, because it's a strength that's easy to overlook. We can't always guarantee you an immediate active audience, but we can promise you this: Place. You and your creations have a place here, here where not even a decade has erased us, here where the future can still grow, here at the online intersection between fiction and reality. You are free to take our creations as a model to build your world, experiment, see what becomes.

I know. I'm wordy, and if I have any points I'm trying to make they don't consistently come across. Yet still, this mythos has given me place as well. When I've had nobody else, this mythos has been there for me for ten years. Without it, I wouldn't have published two books, written three rock albums, made dozens of surprisingly close online friends, and been exposed to media that has in tangible ways changed my life. I'm maybe a little too close to this mythos to make a proper grand statement in overview, which would be more appropriate for this celebratory post, but I can speak emotive, I can light a signal to confirm to the world that we're still going. To a degree, I can speak both to and for our community in saying: We have known activity, and we have known rest, and somehow out of the ambiguous murk in between the two we have found our Voice persists.

Those of you who are only now finding us, you've got so much to see. Those of you who are sticking around, you're in for a treat.

Another thing I'm doing here is clumsily segueing into another subject: seven years ago, on our third Fearniversary, LizardBite privately proposed setting up a semi-"official" ARG in celebration. (You know the kind: Codes hidden across the web that, when solved, lead down rabbit holes to even more codes, accompanied by some sort of story.) alliterator and I took up the suggestion and spent some time planning behind the scenes. I sought out the consultation of CuteWithoutThe, as well as mythos veterans The Visitor, Omega, and Squeek, in order to work out a setting of lore and game mechanics which would be both ethically appropriate and compelling. This proved fruitful, and when we launched the ARG our players uncovered novellas, audio logs, myths, and art (contributed by the likes of The Visitor, Logic, Wiratomkinder, and alliterator). The subforum on which their efforts were contained still exists, though you may need an account to see it. The ARG went on hiatus two years later, and it has been dormant ever since.

Those who currently frequent the discord community may know that I have been digging the old plans back up, that I intend on bringing the ARG back. It was my intent to bring it back in time for this Fearniversary. I, uh, may still be able to do so in time for the 28th of February, but I am not going to push it, as the content I have under works demands rigorous iteration and testing. I bring this up in this post because it is, by its nature, relevant to celebrations of our mythos, and this news is relevant to this Fearniversary in particular.

So. To conclude.

Happy Fearniversary 2021! We're celebrating a decade of the Fear Mythos!

and

As soon as it is ready, you will know: Nine is God is coming back. New players will be welcome.

[softspots]

Update (all is well!)

hello all, and my sincerest apologies for not making this post much sooner; considering the last time I posted here I was announcing that I and my family had contracted Covid-19, doubtless the long and unexplained silence from me caused some worries. better late than never, though, so here I am to tell you all that I and my family are all okay! Covid-19 was hard on us (particularly on me and one of my parents, as we experienced the most intense and longest-lasting symptoms), but thankfully none of us required a hospital visit and we came out of it alright.

now that I've explained that, you're probably wondering why I've taken so long to come back, or even just make an update post like I'm doing now. and, well... after we all got over Covid-19, several other things happened. to list it briefly:

a conflict between me and my parents occurred (this happens with some regularity, unfortunately)

due to the above, an agreement was reached that it would be best for me to move out (don't worry, I wasn't kicked out, this was a decision I fully agreed with and participated in willingly)

over the course of a few weeks I went through the process of apartment hunting, found a spot close to my campus, and packed up and moved

I began my spring semester, taking the largest number of classes I've ever taken at one time before (which I've been having a difficult time dealing with, for various reasons)

I started seeing a chiropractor semi-regularly to hopefully help fix the neck pain I've had since high school

and most recently, I've begun looking into possibly getting a diagnosis for something I've suspected myself of having for a few years now

throughout all of this, I've also been struggling with the same things that I've struggled with for some time, which I've mentioned once or twice here before: consistently low energy levels (both mental and physical energy) and various mental health issues.

real talk for a second: I haven't been able to make myself write anything (besides what I need to write for classes) in months. and I know the main selling point of this blog, and the content most people come here for, is my writing. so since I can't get myself to write anything, and since I don't even have the energy to consistently answer asks on top of that, I've felt like there's no point in even posting anything at all. that feeling has played just as big a part in my inactivity as my busy life has, and I honestly don't know how to fix it.

I could go into further detail, but I'm a rather private person (and I've now revealed more about my personal mental health than I even planned to on this blog) so I'll leave it at that. all of this to say: I've had a lot going on recently, which is why I've taken yet another unexplained and unannounced hiatus.

my midterms have passed now, and I've been in my apartment for over two months, so with my life the most settled it's been since before the holidays last year I finally sat down and wrote out this post to let you all know that I'm okay, still alive, just busy and stressed as always. I hope you're all okay as well, and didn't miss me too terribly while I was away; and if you did, I hope you'll accept some art as an apology gift? I got a new laptop for Christmas and now I'm able to use the drawing software I first learned how to draw digitally on! autodesk sketchbook pro has served me well, but opening up paint tool sai again after all these years felt like coming home :)

(strangely, despite not having any will or motivation to write, I haven't felt the same about art; I'm not drawing every day or anything, but pulling out my tablet and sketching stuff doesn’t feel like a difficult, joyless chore the way writing has recently. if you asked me why that is, I honestly couldn't tell you)

so, yeah! I've got a little bit of art to share, which will be available for my Patreon subscribers' viewing pleasure tomorrow and which will be made public and posted here on April 3rd. I hope you all enjoy them, and I hope we can start brushing the dust of this blog and make it all shiny and new to celebrate it's birthday!

yes, you read that right: today, March 30th, this blog turns two years old! I'm sorry I wasn't able to throw a big party or anything, but I've made a rather special drawing in honor of the occasion, which will also be available on my Patreon tomorrow and posted publicly on April 3rd! it's something that made me particularly happy to make, so I'm excited to let you all see it :)

TL;DR, I've been sort of going through it but I'm back, I'm well, and I missed this blog and you guys while I was gone!

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #315

“can’t breathe to scream  /  suffocating in this dream  /  long way down”

Who was your first big crush? I would probably say this guy in high school named Sebastian. We sat beside each other in Art, and I definitely liked him a lot. Man, my freshman-sophomore years honestly involved a handful of crushes before Jason popped into the picture and I lost all romantic interest in everyone else. Where was the first place you drove after you got your license? N/A Is it a blue sky outside right now? No. All North Carolina has known for weeks on end now is rain. We've had very rare sunny days, but for the most part, it's just gray and gross. Was your last breakup a bad one? Nah, I'd say it ended maturely and with a mutual understanding of "why." When was the last time you were surprised, in a pleasant way? Hell if I know. Is there an ice-cream flavor that you strongly dislike? Which one? Yeah, like strawberry. What was the last sitcom you watched? No clue. ^ Do you have a favorite character in that sitcom? Why is that character your favorite? N/A What does the last group you joined on Facebook concern? I am 90% sure it was this group I joined that is literally just about cute yet dangerous animals lmao, mostly reptiles and invertebrates. "Misunderstood biteybois and where to befriemd them" or some stupid shit like that. Has there been a spider in your house at any time recently? Not that I've seen, no. Do you like wearing make-up? Not at all. I only like wearing it for pictures and then taking that shit off. ^ If so, how old were you when you first started to wear it? I started consistently wearing it my freshman year of high school. Then some time later I just showed up one day without any, shocked all my friends, and then only wore it when I felt like it. What foods are you craving lately, if any? Nothing, really. What were some of your favorite foods as a child? Chicken nuggets of course, as well as spaghetti, peanut butter sandwiches, just the typical stuff that kids tend to enjoy. When you were younger, did you ever have a friend that your parents hated? No. Have you ever talked in your sleep before? That's very normal for me, especially now that I have nightmares like every goddamn night. What was the last song you heard, that reminded you of someone? Well, not a real someone, but "The Ordinary World" by the Hit House is 110% one of Fetch's soon-to-be themes. What has brought you joy today? Nothing brought me "joy," really. When was the last time you won a prize in a raffle? What was it? I actually recently won an art rafle on deviantART hosted by a truly amazing artist, like I thought I had no chance, and she's going to be drawing Moondust!!!! :'''') What is the next non-essential item that you intend to buy for yourself? I'm still paying the bulk of my tattoo in May. Is there anywhere in your town/city that's rumored to be haunted? Oh, I'm sure. When you were younger, did you ever think that a certain place was haunted? Bitch I still do lmao. What were your school meals like? Did you enjoy them? This really depended on the menu for the day. My school lunches were nowhere near as bad as some people make theirs sound, but most things still weren't great. I think school pizzas are the most notoriously bad. What kind of granola bar did you eat most recently? I had a cashew bar earlier today. Do you have any books on your shelf that you've read multiple times? I never reread books. What did your last post on social media concern? That I personally wrote, something regarding subtle racism still being racism, pretty much. How do you feel about people using graphic images as a scare tactic to promote their beliefs? (i.e.: PETA, abortion…) I have mixed feelings on this. Like sometimes seeing the brutal side of certain things is definitely useful in opening someone's mind to things they don't want to see/think about, but then there's that, too: it can just be so invasive and unexpected, and thus very upsetting and even scarring. I'd say I'm most for the "appropriate" social media route: using censorship that the viewer can decide whether or not to remove. But you obviously can't do that in like, a public protest with a sign, so idk. Which is harder for you: writing creatively or academically? Honestly, both are pretty easy for me. I enjoy writing creatively far more, though. Do you think gender neutral bathrooms are a good idea? I think it's fine to have them as an option. When was the last time you voluntarily went outside of your comfort zone? Just talking about stuff in group therapy recently. Would you ever use a dating site that costs money, like Match.com or eHarmony? Have you known anyone who had good experience with such sites? No, and yes. Do you think it’s fair that people are able to make a reasonable salary and live comfortable lives just by making YouTube videos? Yes? It takes charisma and talent in some area (humor, education, etc.) as well as consistency for it to be a reliable career, and just consider how often you hear about creators burning out. That happens for a reason. Entertainment is a valid job category and should not be seen as an unfair joke. Whether you’re in college or not, do you become fearful about whether or not you’ll find a good job? Story of my life. What is something you can only understand if you've experienced it first hand? Deep heartbreak. Do you think it's a double standard that a woman can hit a man and expect to get away with it, but if a man hits a woman it's assault? Obviously. Abuse knows no gender, and hitting another person is just that. I do, however, believe in self-defense, also regardless of gender. In terms of a wedding, put these things in order from what would be MOST important to be perfect, to LEAST important... Engagement ring, dress, hair, venue, ceremony, food, pictures, decorations, honeymoon. This requires too much thinking, haha... but I do know the quality of my honeymoon would be most important to me, given that that's personal time with my new spouse and not a public celebration. I feel like what goes on behind closed doors is more important and heartfelt than how you act publicly. Do you have a go-to small talk conversation topic? Probably video games or music, idk. Define "small talk." Does anyone owe you money? Do you owe anyone money? (Besides credit cards) Mom does. She just a few days ago had to borrow $100 for rent. If someone was going to buy you any practical gift (anything except a house or car), what would you choose? It'd be dope as fuck if someone could pay for Venus' next terrarium, but that's a big purchase that I'd have a hard time accepting. How many people do you know with the same first name as you? At least one, but her name is spelled differently. What in your opinion is the best love song ever written? I'm not sure, but I can tell you that "When It's Love" by Van Halen has always been high on the list for me. Was your mother married when she had you? No, actually. I thought she was until my most recent bday, I think. It was just part of a conversation. How old was the first person you kissed? He was a few months into 18. The first person you were in a relationship with, do you still care about them? Of course, he's a sweet guy. We don't talk or anything, but that doesn't mean I don't care about him. Has anyone ever sang to you? Yes. So, what if you married the last person you kissed? That'd be pretty rad. What are you listening to at the moment? "Long Way Down" from the The Evil Within soundtrack. It's funny, like I've loved the game for many years, but I'm now in a serious semi-obsession phase after watching another let's play of it. Have you read the The Hunger Games trilogy? I only read the first book. I loved it, but just never continued. What is your boss’ (or school prinicpal’s) name? N/A Who is the person you dislike the most? That I personally know, probably a former best friend, oddly enough. Do you text your parents often? If Mom's not home, it's not unusual for us to text. I don't text my dad much because he's not a fan of texting. Do you watch YouTube videos often? Pretty much always. Do you know anyone with celiac disease? Sara, my aunt, and my cousin. Those are the ones I know of, anyway. Do you currently have any alarms set? No. How many cars can fit in your driveway? Barely even two. If someone else is here, they usually just park where the road meets the sidewalk of the cul-de-sac. Do you have the ashes of a family member or a pet? Of my dog Teddy, yes. Have you ever been involved in a car crash? Yes, as a kid. Do you prefer flash or no flash on a camera? Definitely no flash. It's more natural, and especially with people, it obviously prevents red eye. How often do you use hashtags? Just about never. Have you ever had whiplash before? No. Have you ever given another person or an animal a bath before? Pets, yes. I could never bathe another human. Is there a birdbath in your yard? No. Weirdest place you’ve ever had a cramp? Nowhere weird, I think... How many lamps are in the room you’re in? How many are actually turned on? Technically three, if you count my snake's heat lamp. Right now that's the only light that's on. Are there any activities you enjoy doing, but can only do for a short amount of time before you get bored or tired of them? Yeah, reading comes to mind first. Is there anything coming out soon (books, albums, movies, video games) that you're looking forward to? I'm not up-to-date on this stuff at all, not even video games. What is something someone recommended to you that you disliked/hated? I know Girt's recommended me music I haven't been a fan of. We like the same general stuff, but there are specific sub-genres we differ in opinion about. Can you unwrap a Starburst in your mouth? ... There are people who do this to even know in the first place??? What is the last thing you ate? Popcorn. Who is your favorite person to spend time with? Sara. Do you know how to grill a steak? I don't know how to cook, period. Do you have a large dog? We don't have a dog currently, but Mom is looking for one pretty intently. We don't know the size it'll end up being. Do you like walking places? Absolutely not. I can't walk far at all without my legs starting to scream at me because leading such a sedentary lifestyle led to muscle atrophy in my legs. It's incredibly embarrassing. Are you a fan of bands most people don’t know of? That's not uncommon for me. Have you ever sent an X-Rated picture to someone? No. Do you think your voice is higher or lower than average? It's deeper than the average woman's. Do you have a pool? No, but I really, really want one... Given how easily I sweat, I would love to use swimming to strengthen my legs. I could also stop the very moment I feel I need to; it in general sounds like something I could quite easily do. How many times have you been on a plane? Ummm including the trips going back, at least six times. Favorite ice cream flavor? Oh my gooooood, if you haven't tried Ben & Jerry's "phish food"... fucking try that shit. It is innnnnncredible. Do you have a TikTok? Nope. Do you enjoy driving? Fuck no I don't. Your favorite store as a teen? Hot Topic was and still is my fave, ha. Favorite YouTuber? There's this one called Markiplier that I think's pretty cool. How many online accounts do you have? A LOT. My whole life is essentially on the computer, so... .-. Do you tend to always be in some sort of drama? Quite the opposite. Do you collect quarters from every state? No. When was the last time your living room furniture was rearranged? Not since we moved into this place. When you were little did you like watching Cartoon Network, Disney or Nickelodeon more? Disney probably topped Nickelodeon. I didn't watch much CN. Who was the last person to kiss you on the cheek? Either my niece or nephew when saying bye. Have you ever seen a magic show? Yes, as a kid. I even had a magician for my bday once. When was the last time you vomited and why? It's been a year or so. It would've been a side effect of starting a certain med that I didn't stay on because it so consistently made me sick. Where do you usually sit when you eat dinner? Either in my bed (I know) or at the dinner table if Nicole is here to eat with us. What time do you usually go to sleep at night? It's typically around 7:30-8:30, occasionally a bit later. I can't believe as a teen, it was my "rule" that I couldn't go to sleep before 10:30 because it was "too early." Nowadays, I can barely imagine regularly staying up that late. Do you avoid using public restrooms? As best as I can. I've seen some nasty shit. What’s your favorite type of cookie? Chocolate chip. How basic.

[svtskneecaps]

i’ve been enabled

here’s the sitch on the goddamn harry potter hogwarts mystery app game

it fucking sucks

here’s my main issues in a handy list i’ll go down later:

the gameplay

energy

art / visuals

the story

the writing

the choose your own adventure like elements (technically gameplay since there isn’t much else l m a o)

and i have receipts for most of this stuff. fun fact, i’ve been taking videos of all plot relevant events since year 1.

some context:

i’ve played up to year 3 myself. i have watched up until the very beginning of year 5 in someone’s youtube series (will bits? that was his main character [henceforth referred to as MC]’s name, however that was a year ago and it was in the background like a podcast so the details are sort of fuzzy. i have not played the game since march (it’s september, ish), but i’m loading it up as i type this just to get a feel for it

idk whether to assume my audience has or hasn’t played the game. i’ll keep my complaints as clear as possible.

i’m mainly an author so the storytelling sections are where i’m really going to pop off, since that’s something i have the most experience with and passion in, but i’ll be touching on everything else because compounded it’s all pissing me off lmao

[a couple hints at spoilers for maybe an event in year 1, and year 3, but nothing major]

let’s start with: THE GAMEPLAY

there isn’t any

literally. there’s like. zero gameplay.

you tap some highlighted figures, and then sometimes you get to trace a little shape, and sometimes you get to play rock paper scissors to fight somebody (they did manage to make duelling slightly better but it’s still not good by any standard)

sometimes you get to choose between three dialogue options, but those have barely any impact on the story or on your character. any impact they have is limited to a couple stat points, or maybe some house points, or like. some event at the end of the year. but like barely any make any real serious difference (but i’ll touch on that more later)

and then there’s the factor of stat points (and this gets kind of mathy, so feel free to skip to the bolded sentence)

for those who haven’t played the game, you have three stats (empathy, courage, and knowledge) that you can level up by taking classes, 1, 3, or 8 hours, for various rewards

back when i stopped playing, i had gained 8914 points in courage. if i recall correctly i was only about halfway to leveling up that stat. if you take an 8 hour class, you receive consistently 200 stat points, with a possibility of extra rewards that i can’t count for since those are randomly generated.

to get those 8914 points, i would have had to take 44.57 8 hour classes (while 8 hour they only take about 7, counting for the 2 hours it takes my energy to recharge to full). with 44.57 classes taking 7 hours each, to get halfway to level 24, i would have had to have done:

THIRTEEN STRAIGHT DAYS OF GRINDING, ASSUMING THAT ALL I HAD BEEN DOING WAS CHECKING ON THE HARRY POTTER HOGWARTS MYSTERY APP

and again, I WAS ONLY LIKE HALFWAY TO LEVELLING UP

I AM BARELY BEGINNING FOURTH YEAR. I AM NOT EVEN HALFWAY THROUGH THIS GAME.

i think they’ve fixed this now; it said i had 8914/1550 courage and when i got stat points it fixed itself and jumped me from level 23 to 28, so thanks for that jam city.

but it doesn’t change the fact that the grinding is fucking horrible and i’ve done my fair share of hours, and who knows what it’s going to look like when i get to a higher level again

the energy

yes, i know it’s an app game. i know they want my money. but holy FUCK the energy recharges disgustingly slowly, and every bit they expand my energy bar is an insult

“here, have another energy capacity!” they say, and then add to the amount of energy it takes to complete a task at the same time, so now shit just takes me even damn longer

it’s an insult. don’t think i didn’t fuckin notice jam city.

since it’s an app game, naturally, energy requires paying real world money or the (semi) rare in-game currency to get more if you blow through your bar. they want your money. i know they want my money, but it doesn’t make me any less disappointed by how damn blatant they’re being. app games like bakery story probably also want my money, but at least those are still fun to play.

the art / visuals

now i’m not an artist. nor am i a 3-d modeller. but if solo indie devs and 10 men teams can make video games that have to have models with a much fuller range of motion (since there’s ACTUAL GAMEPLAY and not just little cutscenes of characters moving around) and that don’t make me sick to watch, then jam city working on a HARRY POTTER GAME should be able to (jk rowling fucking sucks but her books have brought in so much goddamn money that they can afford to pay their devs enough to make the game look good; in this case i’m not entirely sure where the blame lies)

there’s like. 10 motions characters can use while in the cutscenes and talking. like 10. and i can recognize every one of them, and there is not a single motion unique to a character. the characters are something i’ll touch on later in the storytelling sections, though. just, please god give them SOMETHING even SLIGHTLY different. like make two versions of a couple of the crowd animations at LEAST, so that when people celebrate at the end of the year there’s not twenty people in the shot doing the same “pump my fists in the air in celebration” motion at the exact same time. PLEASE.

sometimes animations in story events and classes sync up too, which is. beyond distracting. like it’s completely immersion breaking and i mean please, please jam city, if you haven’t fixed that please fix it. please.

the animations that roll in flying class are fun, ONCE. when you’ve seen them eight hundred thousand times because you’re grinding up your courage stat, they get hella boring. all of the classes are like this to some extent but flying is the biggest offender since those were the longest animations. if they haven’t implemented a skip button since i last played it, they should. they fuckin should.

also the fertilizer animation in the greenhouse scenes is gross. you pick up a deformed cone of dirt with your shovel like a slice of cake and then shove it clipping through the edges of a pot, where it disappears without a trace. i hate it. jam city please make the game look good.

if you still play the game please tell me it looks better; i’ll be playing through a couple things after i post this but it’s hphm. it’s gonna take me a goddamn long time to hit all the points and confirm whether what i complained about has been fixed or not

also also, wearing dresses is so distracting, especially while dueling. the way the dress flexes around your legs is like you’re wearing clothing made from jello and when my character does the idle animation her hands clip through her skirt, and there’s all kids of glitches with hair where it clips through outfits (and why in the fuck do the necklaces float a full foot from the character’s body)

the storytelling

alright there’s a lot to cover so strap in

i’m not mad about the story having some of the same beats as harry potter. whatever, right? if it worked, it worked. having a big climax at the end of the year just works well for storytelling. having a school bully antagonist also works well for easy storytelling (it’s kinda cheap, but whatever works, right?) it’s what you DO with the archetypes you use that makes or breaks your story

jam city broke it

i don’t know how to organize my thoughts so here’s a bulleted list

it is very clearly obvious they wrote this as they went along (ex. a previously unseen character pops up in year 3 and was supposedly the best friend of your greatest enemy in previous years) and didn’t think to fix the plot holes

there’s too many goddamn characters (i love them, but with a big cast comes a whole host of problems [I WRITE FOR A KPOP GROUP WITH 13 MEMBERS, I HAVE A LOT OF EXPERIENCE WITH THAT], and we’ll get there)

there’s too much goddamn filler for the sake of forcing us to spend time and in-game energy (yes i KNOW it’s an app game and they want our money but THEY COULD BE A LITTLE MORE SUBTLE ABOUT IT)

what honestly pisses me off the most about it is that IT COULD BE GOOD

IF THE STORY WERE GOOD, I WOULD FUCKIN IGNORE ALL OF THAT OTHER SHIT

but it’s not, and here’s the biggest gripe i have:

none of the choices you make matter. none of them. to the point where it’s immersion breaking at BEST

for example, while my MC is a hufflepuff, i know a lot of people play in slytherin. scenes where snape gets upset with your character and takes away house points no longer make sense for a slytherin MC, because snape would be infinitely more likely to give you three years of nightly detentions, or pitch you off the astronomy tower, than he would be to take house points from slytherin

honestly, they should have waited. if they wanted to put choose your own adventure elements into the game, they should have planned out every single one of those story arcs in detail, and THEN released the game. they could leave some of the more basic choices in and those choices only mattering for short term effects wouldn’t irk me as much as it does right now because THERE WOULD BE CHOICES THAT MADE A DIFFERENCE.

your very first choice over how you felt about your brother’s disappearance only matters for what wand you get (which i immediately forgot which really says something about the impact of that choice :)))) ). no matter what you pick, you still end up chasing after him for the rest of the game, so who cares?

story beats don’t land different based on your house. you could absolutely play it that merula hates you regardless of your house, that’s fine. just remember that if your MC is slytherin and lives in the female dorms, she probably shares a room with merula. which makes things fucky for all kinds of reasons, none of which jam city addresses in the current game, as far as i’m aware

also, there’s the deal with rowan

rowan is a character that goes into your mc’s chosen house no matter what (and as rowan changes pronouns with your player, i’ll be using “they” [or “she” as my player is a she and that’s what i’m used to; i’ll try to refrain but i might slip up occasionally] ). as far as i can tell, rowan’s personality remains the same no matter what house you’re in. they don’t try to play up the traits that match the house, rowan is just usually a sweet bookworm. why would the hat have put them in gryffindor? rowan khanna for me has never seemed to display any gryffindorish traits; or at the very least, no traits that should be prioritized over, say, the ravenclaw traits they have VERY STRONGLY (since rowan fills a sort of hermione role; rowan knows things about things and is your go to for research)

can we just put rowan in ravenclaw? sure, it would make it hard for fans in different houses to communicate between each other about the story for a time since certain sequences of events would play out differently, but here’s the thing:

if events play out differently based on your choices, people will want to play your game multiple times to get every ending

that’s the fun of a choose your own adventure game. if events play out distinctly differently if you’re a hufflepuff or a ravenclaw or a slytherin or a gryffindor, then people will want to play through the game four times at LEAST, once for each house, to get all the fun pieces of story (WHICH MEANS, they’ll be spending more and more time and using more and more energy, so you can make the same amount of money off people buying energy and watching the ads and maybe MORE while being able to cut out some of the more shitty pieces of filler)

in the current version, your house is just, what color are your robes and who is your prefect. i haven’t watched anyone who wasn’t a hufflepuff, but i’m sure that certain scenes and conflicts play out the exact same no matter what house you’re in

as an example, your house should affect how the duelling confrontation in year one should have gone. snape and flitwick should have different dialogue based on whether you’re a slytherin, or a ravenclaw, or a gryffindor, or a hufflepuff. snape fucking hates gryffindors, so he should be far less lenient against gryffindors, and on the flip side he should be battling between himself with how strict to be if you’re a slytherin; maybe he hates your guts because of a grudge against your brother, but you’re still in his house and we all know snape plays favorites. flitwick should be more disappointed if you’re a ravenclaw, because that’s his house and he had higher expectations for you. neither of them have many ties to hufflepuff that would skew the confrontation in a drastic direction, but had this been the first version of the game, then the confrontation that plays out in the current version we have would work fine for hufflepuff; you’re one of flitwick’s favorite charms students and he taught you this skill, and he’s disappointed to see you use it in this way, but not nearly as much as if you were one of his own

AND NOW PEOPLE WANT TO PLAY THE GAME MULTIPLE TIMES TO GET ALL THE DIALOGUE, WHICH MEANS MORE TIME, MORE ENERGY, AND MORE MONEY, JAM CITY, ARE YOU HEARING THIS??? MORE MONEY!!!!! IT’S A WIN WIN FOR EVERYONE

while we’re at it, change jacob to match his house. if you’re still gonna make him have the same house as the MC, make him match it. from how all the characters describe him that bitch is as slytherin as they come, if you’re gonna make him a hufflepuff with me then give him a clear, hufflepuff motive god damnit

finally,

the characters

there’s too many.

the problem with a big cast is no one gets enough screen time and some characters end up getting shunted to the side. that’s just what happens. you HAVE to zero in on four or five side friends and let the rest of them slip to the side. looking at my friends menu there are 17 characters you can befriend, not including hagrid, the quidditch crew, dobby, talbott, and chiara (since those are, as far as i know, unlocked via side quests, which are... fine. i don’t have any particular gripes about the side quests except for the thing with lupin being twice the size of tonks which, if you’ve read the seventh book i don’t need to explain how weird that is to you)

and BECAUSE there are so many, a lot of them have to be defined by one trait. ben is a coward, rowan’s clever and booksmart, penny has her hand on the school’s pulse and makes potions, liz likes creatures, charlie fuckin loves dragons, tonks likes pranks (seriously that’s her whole personality), andre likes clothes, barnaby is a dumb jock that likes creatures

like, traits are fun. but if that’s ALL THEY HAVE, that’s when things get a little fucky

how many of these characters have dimensions? i’m in year 4 chapter 4. the first screen recording of the game i took was on december 5 of 2019, and assuming i played about a minimum of 8 hours a day (”““played”““) until the final screen recording [may 20, 2020] before i dropped the game for about six months (i know for certain it was more than that, since i had some kind of activity going on at just about all times for at least a month of that, but i’ll take the generous estimate), at bare minimum that makes 1344 hours i spent playing this game, or about 56 days (keep in mind, this is a LOW estimate)

in those 56 days of gameplay, i don’t know ANYTHING about the characters other than their utility in my quest. i don’t know penny’s favorite color or even her favorite potion to brew, or how and why she started and when [there’s a reveal in third year that i watched someone play through, but i don’t know if i ever played through it myself; i don’t have any screen recordings of the event]. i don’t know anything about ben or his family aside from the fact that he’s muggleborn. i know some basic facts about barnaby’s family, and that he’s tough and likes creatures. rowan grew up on a tree farm and i have a vague recollection of her mentioning siblings. do we know anything about them?? do i know anything about how the characters interact with each other?? are barnaby and liz friends? they both like creatures. do they talk to charlie?? do ben and penny hang out while we’re not there? are ben and jae friends?? are jae and charlie??? DO THESE CHARACTERS EXIST WHEN THEY AREN’T NEEDED FOR THE CURSED VAULTS???

why in the fuck don’t i know these characters?? why don’t we know anything about tonks other than her affinity for pranking?? there’s a sharp bias in who the writer’s favorites are (they like the characters with angsty pasts they can twist around; what do we know about ben aside from his blood status? and he’s been around since first year; he’s the second friend you unlock. i know more about barnaby and i’ve known him for a much shorter time)

if you separate the routes, you get a chance to zero in on certain characters and actually develop them. if you’re a gryffindor, you befriend ben, charlie, and jae much more quickly and they make up the closest of your friends, along with rowan, if jam city is determined to keep their tutorial character constant across all plotlines (i still think rowan should be solely a ravenclaw, but i’ll allow rowan’s house to change so long as their personality shifts to emphasize certain qualities in order to match the change in house; your house should not just determine the color your robes are)

if you’re in slytherin, maybe you befriend barnaby in place of ben in the original game, or maybe there’s an arc where you clash heads with merula (who can still be an enemy even if you’re both in slytherin; merula doesn’t like competition and the MC is exactly that) and the rest of the slytherins in your year find themselves caught in the middle; maybe there’s an arc where your MC finds themself totally alone without allies due to the conflict between them and merula (might i suggest year two, while coming up on the climax of the year?)

hufflepuffs get to focus on tonks and penny much closer. ben can also be in this plotline, but he shouldn’t take center stage (characters should cross over plotlines, but only take center stage in one, aside from perhaps rowan if rowan remains constant). maybe chiara can get implemented into the main plotline to fill out the roster, and if not, diego caplan can get implemented earlier (i haven’t met him yet and know nothing about his character)

and ravenclaws get the ravenclaw characters BUT YOU GET THE POINT, i don’t want to bore anyone by repeating myself; this is long enough as is

what i’m saying is, these characters all have a different enough base that each route will be different just by focusing on different characters; ben and jae will respond to a situation much differently than penny and tonks might, which would ALREADY shake up the storyline of each house based on which house you choose in the beginning, and then characters overlap plotlines so you could leave hints in each route to the other characters’ unique backstories and motivations that leaves the player wanting to get to know the rest of your WELL DEVELOPED CAST (((MAKE SURE THEY’RE WELL DEVELOPED OR THIS WILL NOT WORK)))

WHAT I’M SAYING IS, THIS GAME COULD HAVE BEEN SO GOOD

if they put more effort into the story then maybe i would have gunned through the hufflepuff route so quickly and then restarted to go through all the rest of them. if you want people playing your game for longer then THAT is the way to go

yes, it will take time. yes, it will take effort. but you know what?

IT’LL ALSO MAKE YOU A FUCKTON OF MONEY FROM PLAYERS PLAYING EACH ROUTE IN FULL AND THEN PLAYING THEIR FAVORITE ROUTES AGAIN SO WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU WAITING FOR

anyway, what i’m saying is, i hate this game so much because of the potential it had to succeed, and the potential it had to be a really good game. even if they didn’t change the gameplay much, even if they didn’t change the models, i could get past ALL OF THAT if the story was interesting

so uh. jam city, if you’re reading this, please. i will let you take away all of my days of playing this. i will let you render all of my progress obsolete and send me plummeting back into my first year at hogwarts to go through the game again, if you JUST, MAKE, MULTIPLE, ROUTES!!! MAKE MY CHOICES MATTER DAMN YOU!!!!!!!!

i’m also willing to let you use the ideas i posited here without credit or payment. because that sounds like a legal hassle and i am far too lazy to deal with that sort of thing, i just want to play a good game. please. please give me a good game to play.

also, make energy take 3 minutes to recharge. please.

so uh

TL;DR : i hate this game. and i wish i didn’t hate this game.

[tekkai]

💗🎁📚⚾🐱? For the AU^^

Thank you!!! I love talking about my family of monsters! Long post beneath the cut. 

💗: How did you decide on having a family?

We’d already been talking about the possibility of a family well before we tied the knot but it wasn’t something we were really trying for. While Lucci and my own work are very different, we share a similar work ethic and at the time we were more focused on our careers. 

Our first born Temperance (Em/Emmy) was a welcome surprise. When she turned 3 we began trying for a sibling and we’re blessed with two more babies, Liberty (Lib/Libby) and Justice.  

🎁: What kinds of things/toys do you and your f/o get for your kids?

We initially agreed to try and not to spoil the babies with a lot of junk. When I do gift I try to cater to each child’s special interest. Their father is much more indulgent with gifts than I am. 

Ever since Em could hold an object she’s always been a very curious soul. I remember even as a toddler how excited she’d get when she got to come to work and ‘help’ mommy. I tend to bring her different books and instruments for her to play and study with. As she grew older she would also develop an interest in fashion and glass figurines. Lucci is way too permissible with her and her demands. I can’t remember the last time I saw Em without a designer bag or new name brand coat.  

Libby had so many interests growing up and would bounce from hobby to hobby. Depending on what she was passionate at the time we’d make sure she was well equipped to pursue her interests. Out of the three she was the most interested in learning to fight. While I was buying art supplies, Lucci would bring her an assortment of training weapons to play with. 

Justice’s interests tended to follow and take after his twin when he was younger. As he grew older he began to shy away from playing in the mud with her and took an interest in music. He was also interested in working with the expedition horses and dogs I kept at home. He’s an excellent horsemen and has a real talent for tracking. Like his father and eldest sister he also developed an expensive taste in fashion. 

📚: Describe the first day of school.

The first day of school with Temperance was so difficult and emotionally traumatic for all of us except Em. Em did great and has always loved her classes but I was an absolute mess when she left. Lucci played it cool but I know for a fact he kept a very close eye on the school for the first year Em was in kindergarten. I also have a reason to believe the teaching assistant might have been one of his agents undercover…

When Lib and Justice were old enough, both Lucci and I were both relieved. Overall the send off was significantly less dramatic. Partly because the twins are an absolute handful and partly because they would have each other to support each other in class. At that point it had been 6yrs since me and Lucci could act like adults in the house again and we took full advantage of the quiet by sleeping the day away. It was magical.

⚾️: What’s playtime like with your f/o and your kid(s)?

I don’t like to think of myself as a fragile woman but even from a young age the kids have shown they’ve inherited their father’s superhuman strength. So when it comes to playtime, most sports are out of the question when I’m involved. When it comes to playtime I prefer more mental games.

With the exception of Libby on a bad day, my children are actually pretty mild-mannered and polite when it comes to other people. However, when the children play together, things can get very chaotic very quickly. Even something as tame as board games runs the risk of spiraling out of control. Unfortunately, they’ve inherited my competitiveness and their father’s aggression. Even Em jumps at the opportunity to spare her siblings. I think it’s because they’re so close with each other and know they don’t have to hold back when they fight it tends to get violent quickly. 

Lucci isn’t able to be home as often as he’d like and even when he is, he doesn’t play. When the babies where younger he’d humor them but I don’t think he’s ever learned how to play. He’s happy to spend time with the kids but it’s all under the guise of teaching them a new skill. He’s just not the type of person to indulge in an activity just for fun even when it comes to his children.   

🐱: If you and your f/o have pets, how do they and the kid(s) get along?

Up until the kids started going to school regularly, the birds Hattori and Maverick would both consistently keep about 5ft out of reach from the children. Once the children were a little older the birds would start to bond better with the kids. Hattori was partial to roosting on Em’s shoulder and seemed to enjoy playing dress up with her. Maverick the resident semi-tame crow would play rougher with Libby, pulling at her hair and playing chase throughout the home. Even as a toddler Justice would spend a lot of extra time with my hounds and in the stable with the horses. I made sure the dogs where well acquainted with the babies from birth and while they know better than to play with the kids, they’re fiercely protective of the children. I’ve never had to worry about the children wandering around the property or sneaking into the nearest port city because they always had a pack of my dogs at their heels. 

[neoneidolon]

one year - 1/ 2/20

It’s been a year since I started this blog!

Most of you probably know that this blog holds the OC continuation of the story I started as a canon character on cubicscubedemon. The history hasn’t changed; Morpho uses what used to be their nickname back on the old blog, and they reference things that happened back when they were Amorphous Shape, so they are definitely still the same person, but they were such a tiny presence in their old canon that I feel comfortable calling them my OC now.

So! We’re basically in the epilogue, I think! After a series of huge pushes, they left their Boss and started a new life in hiding. They had a run-in with their homeworld, picked up a sibling by accident, reconnected with an old friend, made some new ones. The nature of their relationships is different now. They’ve come a long way. So what now?

Well, first of all I want to say I’m not planning on quitting yet. There are still things I want to do, or at least lay down the groundwork for happening later in the unwritten bits of Morpho’s life. Because I know how their story is going to end. I probably won’t write it here, because that’s at least a few decades in the future we’re talking about and this blog operates on sorta kinda real-ish time, but it’s a nice bittersweet ending I keep in mind. It was never going to end the way Morph *wants*, but they’ll be happy regardless, I promise.

More Things That Have Happened:

-- they started living on Earth! exactly what the version of me who ran the old blog swore up and down would never happen in the default “verse”/timeline. Past me is eating their words right now

-- on a semi-related note, wow, this blog has been running for a year and still hasn’t gained any alternate verse tags? that’s kind of impressive

-- so now when I read through the old blog archive it’s going to be an organization nightmare figuring out if the version of Morpho in a given post is the same one as in this blog or not

-- I straight up forgot that Morpho already knew their timeline’s version of their Boss was dead. In the kidnapping event, Bill told them that and they reacted like it was new information. It wasn’t. I’m just an idiot who doesn’t read the archive enough.

-- Morpho is now: 10-20% more honest! 40% more emotionally open! 4% more humble! 80% deeper into their destiny as the local eldritch witchy grandma/eccentric uncle who has seven dozen other dimensions on speed-dial!

-- they’re still working on letting go of their need to be the “better version” of their ex-Boss, but what happened in Hyperspaceland went a long, long way in proving to them that the Multiverse can have wildly unlikely good things happen in it, and that they can make a positive difference without having to do it the way they had impressed upon them for years.

-- plus, they now have friends and acquaintances who are “weird” like them, who have managed to make good lives for themselves without having to be subject to dimensional power struggles and other unwanted cosmic nonsense. They didn’t think being able to “retire”/live quietly was really possible for people like themself, so seeing otherwise is really good for them. They don’t think directly about this, though, it’s subconscious.

-- but they still have a long way to go and a lot of deep-seated issues to unravel, and now they have to raise their time-clone twin sibling and pray they don’t mess the kid up.

Things I’d Like to Happen, Either Written Here or Not:

-- Morph letting go of their instinct to manipulate situations to their favor, and also their tendency to make things more difficult by lying

-- Morpho letting go of the assumption that most people have ulterior motives, even if their history demonstrates that they have a good reason to believe that

-- Beta growing up, working out how they are and are not Morpho, simultaneously

-- Morpho reaching a point where they can be trusted to not (usually) try using people for their own personal gain, so they can finally go back to their real calling (teaching) properly this time

I worry a lot about whether I keep things consistent here, if Morpho’s still the same person they were two years ago or one year ago. They seem happier, anyway. I don’t think they would be as happy if I was just shearing off unpalatable parts of them out of misplaced fear. At the same time, they are always going to be a little bit awful!

And what about Beta? I keep saying we’re near the end, but just as Morpho’s coming in on the close of their development, Beta’s is just beginning, under totally different circumstances as her elder twin. Life as the soul of a magical alien spirit thing, in the body of an earthly creature, isn’t going to be easy for her. If I wanted, I could lean all the focus on her and get a whole new narrative out of it.

That brings me to something else I wanted to talk about. So if you’ve followed me for a while, you know this about me: for better or for worse, I always have a narrative arc in mind. There are good things and bad things about that approach, and it’s pretty easy to screw up, especially where other people are involved. And the problem with characters who develop is that it is totally possible to develop them too much, to extend their story so far that they become somebody who doesn’t resemble who they were originally. I’m worried about this happening with Morph. I’m also worried about this blog just becoming an endless series of me coming up with some arbitrary new conflict or danger or drama every time I get bored of describing their mundane life. I don’t want to bore anyone. (I know, the wisdom is to RP for yourself and your own fun, but it still involves other people and also, I need to entertain, otherwise what is the point of my story?)

This blog is... might end before this time this year. I say might, it’s not that I don’t enjoy anymore and want to quit. After that? I don’t know. Starting an art blog on Tumblr feels kind of pointless now since the platform is dying, and RP is one of the major reasons I stick around since I don’t really use my personal blog much anymore. If I don’t write here, I feel like I’m going to slip away from a lot of friends. I don’t want to lose you all. I could start a new muse, Beta or someone else, but...

I want to do something different, too.

And that brings me to the last (I think) thing, which is what form Morpho’s story might take next. Because if I DO end this blog before the beginning of next year, I wouldn’t be done with Morph by a long shot. I love them too much and there’s too much of me I sunk into them. So what would I do?

Well, I was hoping to spin a web thing with words and pictures. ...I think I’m just going to call it a web serial. No intention of ever formally publishing it. It would be the same basic arc again, but more polished and with all the Gravity Falls filed off a backstory and setting that is more original to me, plus additional new plot things and side characters. Definitely taking place in a Multiverse, though, how could it not?

coming up with a villain to replace Bill Cipher has been basically impossible but Morpho’s story can’t function without somebody in that role

Maybe this is misguided of me, maybe it will fail to launch, or launch and then fail, and attempting to run it alongside this blog is an almost guaranteed terrible idea, but I want to do it. Morpho is never going to get a book series or a TV show, so this is what I have for them. It could be pretty interesting if it works. They feel ready. And most importantly I know I can tell this long rambly story and finish it, because I’ve already done it, here with the help of a bunch of writers--friends-- that I admire. Morpho wouldn’t have made it this far without you.

When is it coming? I don’t really know. Work on the first installments is happening, but it’s slow, and there’s key things I don’t know yet. Most of it is going to be flying by the seat of my pants, making it up as I go (but y’know, making it up better, with slightly less improvisation than I usually employ here). I’m graduating from community college in mid March of this year, which is going to be a major life change that is probably going to turn my life completely upside down. Maybe I will suddenly not have any time for creating anything, be it an RP blog or a web serial, much less both! haha I’m terrified 

But with luck, I’m hoping that what I am tentatively calling Amos vs. Everything will be out soon. Like, really soon. Some point between late January and when I graduate. (Now I just have to A. figure out where I’m hosting this thing and B. graduate. It would be really embarrassing if I flunked out of my last semester of school.)

I can see it now: somebody going “who the heck is ‘Amos’? The main character’s name is Morpho!” and I will smile and say ‘wait and see’ because they don’t know, but you. You all know.

And that’s about it! This is but a small and humble blog, and I like it that way. I appreciate every one of you who are here at time of writing. For the ones I don’t manage to interact with much-- I’m useless and shy. Poke me, reasonably. If you’re just here to spectate, that’s cool too. :D For the ones who come write here a lot, or did once-- you built this house.

Okay I should stop now or I’ll be sitting here forever! I can’t believe you read all this! Thank you all for everything and Happy New Year!

[itsbuckysworld]

HELLO SPRING: DAY 12

Pairing: Bucky x reader basically. Category: College-ish!AU Warnings: SO FLUFFY!  Word Count: 1.6K Guest Appearance: mentions of Steeef and Nat, a lot of made up names.

Summary: Y/N will never forget her first kiss and her first crush. Specially not now. 

THIS IS Y/N’S POV OF THE PROMPT FOR DAY 9 FIRST KISS

Day 12: Childhood Memories , for my Spring Short Story Writing Event

 Y/N had been there since very early, fidgeting with her hair over and over again in front of Stephanie Johnson’s mirror, and deciding to apply some of her glittery makeup just because. The party wasn’t even close to starting, neither was she the host or the one getting in trouble for throwing a party when her parents were out, but she felt nervous. Over the summer Steve Rogers had gotten hella cute, but to be completely honest, Y/N always thought Bucky Barnes was the cute one of the pair. And tonight, they would be there.

At least she hoped. Stephanie had invited Steve, and Steve never went anywhere without Bucky. Maybe she would try talking to him. She didn’t have a plan, it was not like her 12 year old brain could plot more than “run casually into him and start a conversation” which was definitely all her plan consisted of – truth be told it would be easier to talk to him in Chemistry or Math, but for whatever reason she never had the courage to give him more than a small wave and a warm smile.

Ugh, stupid Bucky Barnes. Why did he have to stick to the walls all night long? So far she tried twice to run into him, and both times proved incredibly difficult given the young boy stuck to corners and spaces far away from the crowd. Plus Stephanie’s house was too big, if she had a smaller living room then maybe people would be closer to each other, making it super natural to bump into people, but right now? It was impossible.

Eleanor Torres had started a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven, and even though there was probably a one in a million chance that Bucky even joined the game, let alone be the one to kiss her, Y/N added as casually as she could, that maybe they should extend an invitation to Bucky who looked close to a fish out of water the more time passed.

Her hands were sweaty as the first few rounds went, and when Aaron Carter and Leonard McGuire got paired to go in the closet together, Y/N was too busy trying to avoid staring at Bucky to even care. Before she even knew it, it was his turn, and Gina, Y/N’s best friend at the time, pinched her arm, knowing full well that her friend had a minor – actually more like medium, edging on the brink of major – crush on the dark haired boy with sparkly eyes. It was maybe too much for her to wish it’d land on her, but she hoped. As long as it didn’t land on snobby Christina Watson, she’d take about anything.

The bottle slowed to a stop, the shiny cap dead center on Y/N and she fought the butterflies and blush threatening to spill over. When he remained there, almost frozen on the spot, she tried her best not to think it was because he didn’t want to do this with her, so she got up, deciding to cut the awkward tension off and offered Bucky a hand, before leading the two of them into the closet.

He turned on the light, and there was laughter on the other side of the door as the lock clicked in place. The seven minutes started now, and Y/N would need more than an hour to figure out where to even start.

“Hi. I-I’m Bucky” he said adorably and she couldn’t help the giggle that followed, giving him a handshake like strangers meeting for the first time.

“I know. I’m Y/N” she followed along. Maybe this would make things more at ease? Less stuffy? Whatever. Except the silence reigned for around 2 minutes, but it’s not like Y/N was counting.

Except she was because if there was something she knew was that she wouldn’t mind one bit if Bucky Barnes was her first kiss. In fact…

“A-are you… Do you want to kiss me?” the words blurted out before she could stop them, but after having them out there, she decided maybe it was better. Unless he said no and then she would never live down the embarrassment, Oh god what had she done, why did she blurt that out like that- her rambling was stopped by the sight of Bucky slowly nodding his head. She gave him a tender smile, one filled with relief, and well, she had started it, so it made sense she leaned in first, pursing her lips and closing her eyes, waiting for Bucky to perform the next move. Your turn Barnes.

And he delivered, the warmth of his body felt closer and closer until finally, slightly rough inexperienced lips touched tender inexperienced lips. Soft, shy, goosebump inducing, the tensing of the chest. It was all things she could never describe, but everything that felt good.

He pulled away first, and she found it normal. Kisses had to end.

“I’m sorry” came out like a train from his lips, lips she now knew. “I’ve… I’ve never… Uh” his stutters were cute.

“Me too” she said, feeling the warmth take over her face, admitting he was her first kiss wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, in fact she was glad to know they both shared this, in a whole new level. Wherever life took her Bucky Barnes would always be her first kiss, and she would be his.

Kisses had to end to restart again, right? Separating was easy, not because she didn’t enjoy the kiss, despite not knowing what she should have been enjoying in the first place, but because she wanted to gain her breath and press another kiss to his lips, this time maybe a little differently, less childish, with hands ghosting his arms before retracting in fear that was not where they were supposed to go, now busy playing with the hem of her shirt, and his fingers slowly touched hers before retreating as well, but the chills remained.

Timid and inexperienced kisses were shared. Maybe they didn’t learn anything from it, but it was nice, as nice as a shy first kiss in a closet could get. Their last moments together in the confines of the closet filled with bashful pecks characteristic of their age. And then for good measure, something different just to see what it would feel like, as she opened her mouth a little more, inviting him to do so, and she understood why grown ups did it. It caused even more chills.

She could only stare at him when they separated for the last time, processing everything but unsure of what to say. The door was opened on the seven minute mark, and the party-goers found them standing there, and she was sure she was so red there was no need to kiss and tell on a girl’s sleepover that weekend, she was sure everyone knew, but she didn’t care. Her friends scooped her away before she could even formulate a sentence, express her gratitude, did you even thank people for kissing you? She didn’t know, but she felt as if she owed Bucky something, anything, for sharing so much with her. For making a memory that would last for eternity.

 ・‥…━━━━━━━ o ━━━━━━━…‥・

She does a double take when her brain thinks she’s spotted something unusual. Like she wasn’t expecting it to rain outside and suddenly there’s thunder, that’s how encountering Bucky Barnes 7 years later feels like. She’s rushing into the kitchen of the frathouse where he’s stood, stuck in place much like the first party she ever saw him in way back when, he looks almost exactly the same, except he’s oh so different. Different yet still familiar.

“Bucky?” the words feel foreign in a way, maybe she was making a mistake, but his face told her otherwise “Bucky Barnes?”

“Oh, god” he says before there’s laughter shared between the two of them and Y/N finds herself wrapped in his arms. The arms of the Bucky Barnes, her first kiss and first crush. Could have been her first boyfriend too but Chris Beck had asked and then she had moved and she hadn’t heard about either since. “Y/N, it’s been… wow”

“So long! You go to MIT too?” it was the only logical explanation, a clear magical coincidence

“Yeah, you go here?” his disbelieving eyes – still oh so blue and sparkly and filled with emotion – were fixed on her.

“I do! Art and design” she presented “sophomore year”

“Civil Engineering major” there’s a short scoff from him “sophomore year!” And there it was, the confirmation that he was so close all along.

“What? Oh my god! It’s so nice to see you! You look great” His slight bear suited him so well, and the new hair? The black semi translucent shirt with little daisies dotted all over, and that top button undone, wow that must be a crime to look so– she stopped her thoughts, worried she would become too flustered.

“You too!” there’s a blush taking over her cheeks at the way he takes her in from head to toe.

“Steve is here too?” She looks around, the two of them worked like a packaged deal, maybe he wasn’t far away and she would be able to calm the butterflies in her tummy that were slowly coming back alive if Steve was there too, it would feel more casual and not at all like she was imagining him there because she wanted it so badly.

“He’s…–” Bucky looks around, Y/N takes the moment to really take him in. Bad choice, more butterflies�� “around, lost him long ago” he shrugs and before you can say anything else, there’s a hard tug on your shirt, with a quick glance you see Nat beckoning you over, right, the two of you were on your way to find Nat’s boyfriend and his friends for something or other. Y/N is quick to announce that she’ll be right over, deeming more important to make sure Bucky isn’t gone forever once more.

Her heart races as she begins her goodbye. “Hey, tell him I said hi, and, here” her phone is quickly on her hand, initiating the motions to add a new number “We have to meet and catch up” 

Bucky Bucky Bucky was the only thing on her mind right now, and she would love to see him again and again and again. Definitely because he was an old friend that brought with his sole presence a sense of being at home, and not because suddenly she was warm, even more so when his fingers brushed hers in the phone exchange. Definitely not because she found him really really handsome.

“Definitely” He says with a grin, and she loses the battle against her common sense, finds herself pressing a loud kiss to his cheek as a goodbye and disappearing into the party, before she can catch a single ounce of rejection on his face.

Fuck, seven years. Seven years and she finds herself falling for his cute face and adorable personality all over again. Seven years but he feels just the same in her heart.

  ・‥…━━━━━━━ o ━━━━━━━…‥・

feedback is greatly appreciated and encouraged!!

THE OTHER END OF THE REENCOUNTER?!?!?!? CHECK! I told you he was her first kiss too! And she’s definitely not crushing on him pshhh no, it’s been seven years, there’s no way… right? ;)

[mariellewritesalot]

Notes on the Romantic Narrative

As an homage to my favorite film of all-time “Silver Linings Playbook” finally being on Netflix, and a coping mechanism to everything I’ve been feeling as of late: I am writing to you about some musings I’ve been making and breaking for the past few months. About love, or lack thereof, in my life. 

First, to give you an image of how I pay attention to detail in life and movies, I will start with a few reasons why I love this gem despite the huge changes they made on screen vis-à-vis the novel: 1) It portrayed mental illnesses in a way that didn’t feel pushy or overly-romanticized: healing is not linear, 2) Pat’s character development throughout the film was the epitome of his motto (and mine), “Excelsior”, 3) I love how the story sort of revolved around the Eagles and football to anchor the heaviness of the entire plot line, 4) The casting!!! I mean, wow, and 5) It makes you believe in silver linings, even in the safest sense of the idea, not too grand and definitely not perfect. Safe. Who could forget that scene where Pat runs after Tiffany with his letter? The relief we all felt knowing that her hard work and feelings were not for naught? If you haven’t seen it, I hope you have the time to. It’s a moving film, honestly.

Anyway, I digress. I am going to go personal in this bit and I might not like it, too. I am stating the obvious when I say that I am a hopeless romantic and that I tend to look at life in rose-colored glasses. Some probable reasons are because my parents have the kind of love story that really makes you believe in fate and second chances, plus the fact that I grew up with romantic films, songs, and books. I was sold to the fairy tale idea of happily ever afters despite the proof that it doesn’t apply to everyone in real life. I wanted my own story to tell. After all, I am a writer. I live for the things worth telling.

Nowadays, I also spend a lot of my time online where my timeline is bombarded with couples or romantic gestures, as if the algorithm is working against the realist in me. I can’t say I hate it, because one thing I get from this mindset is the tendency to highlight the good things, both in people or situations. The “too kind for my own good” complex. The only downside is that I may get disappointed more times than I should. It’s a tricky predicament if you think about it in my context: I grew up with mostly men in the house, in my own bubble, going through life thinking that somebody is going to sweep me off my feet, backed up by High School Musical films and the media pushing love teams down our throats...but then it hits me in real life as I grow older: movie moments do happen in real life, but they aren’t as common as they make it out to be, they’re the exception to the rule. They are as rare as they come. 

Some of us aren’t as lucky.

In reality, when the hurt runs too deep, it feels almost impossible to rise above it. The hopeless romantic dies out and is replaced by a semi-angry realist, tired of how the world consistently proves that it moves in circles. They become someone who occasionally relapses into that romanticized haze every once in a while because it gets lonely. When you’ve fallen in love a few times in life, it’s hard not to expect yourself to fall into a trap, any moment now. The withdrawals grow stronger just when you’re starting to get the hang of things. It’s an exhausting ordeal, if you ask me, turning numb but knowing that you can’t shake off the romantic within when it resurfaces in the most inappropriate of moments.

I used to think that I’d be one of the lucky ones who meet the love of their life early on; someone who’s capable of being in a long-term relationship in college or maybe even after...and I still think I am, but maybe I haven’t met him yet. Maybe I have, but the timing is off or we just don’t know it until a little further down the road. Now I’ve been single for too long, and there is nothing wrong with it, just the fact that the trauma I went through has really soiled my chances of healing fast; more from the events than the actual person who did the hurting. Being here though, I am able to see how I am in a generation where #hugot culture is the norm, relationships are only as good as they are on social media, and 80% of young people are desperate to find love or at least a semblance of it. It’s nauseating, accidentally giving into the “sana all” culture and thinking I am incomplete if I don’t have someone who’s technically obligated to care for me, vice versa. I am not a fan of it, but it’s not exactly easy to exclude myself from a narrative I have been in for years. I wish it didn’t feel so off.

Because...hey, there are pros to being single. For starters: I am young. I don’t have to worry about it yet at least for the next ten years or so. I am not supposed to have the same timeline as other people. I can go to bed without worrying about somebody else. I don’t have to ask for anyone’s approval. I have more time for the things I love doing. I am not being emotionally abused or taken for granted or cheated on, which were common themes in my past relationships. It’s a treat, until I am once again hooked by the media I consume and made to think that there’s more to life than being alone.

Maybe it’s the fact that I spent half of this year trying to get over the one I thought was the love of my life, or how I’m spending the other half denying to myself that I may be having feelings for a person and consciously running away from them through various coping mechanisms I never thought I’d use. Love is a gray area right now because I don’t see myself being in a relationship anytime soon, but if I ever do, I’d want something serious. I love meeting new people right now, but at the same time, my comfort zone feels good. I find that it helps tone down my anxiety when I am in control. I’m proud of myself for choosing to navigate through life by my own right now, turning down people who want to become a part of it for my sake and theirs. I just have a lot on my plate. Although I do believe that I’ll never be ready. No one ever is, but I want to put my faith in timing. I just have to learn the ropes here first. I hate that everyone around me is rushing because I feel like I’m that person being squeezed into the middle of the crowd in a mosh pit. I am choosing to make sure I am a better person than I was first before I dive into it, head first.

So yeah. Lloyd Dobler is not going to blast In Your Eyes by Pete Gabriel on a boombox outside my bedroom window (though I’d love Closing Time by Semisonic more). Dylan Harper is not going to organize a flash mob to tell me he made a mistake. Patrick Verona is not going to hack into the school speakers and sing to me at the football field. Troy Bolton is not going to show up outside my window to apologize, armed with Margherita pizza and chocolate covered strawberries. Ted is not going to steal a blue french horn for me. Johnny Castle is not going to dance with me in front of everybody to prove our love. Chuck Bass is not going to buy me a ring and carry it around even when we aren’t together anymore, hoping for the chance to get me back. Augustus Waters is not going to show up with orange tulips and a trip to Amsterdam. Pat Soltano is not going to run after me with a love letter he wrote a week ago...and I’m okay with it. I don’t want to buy into the notion that I need saving, or that I can be swayed by gestures that can so easily be just a move to win me over with no follow-through. I don’t want to be put on a pedestal, anyway. Also...sometimes, it’s in the little things. We fall in love with the way people remember something we said to them months ago, the way they show up after a long day, and the way even the tiniest gestures feel so big it fills up everything else.

I feel like one day I’ll be given the love I deserve and I don’t have to yearn for movie scenes like the art geek I am. You see, what makes love stories unique is the fact that it happens when you least expect it. Grand romantic gestures are welcome, but they aren’t really the basis of how deep love could be. I could only hope to be with someone who speaks my love language or at least tries to understand it. Until then...I’ll keep relearning everything until I make sense of what I truly want out of love and its intricate mess of a web.

I’ll love; even without pretense, without hope or agenda, without expecting the universe to give me back everything like it owes me.

[stuckonlevelone]

Long Post: A Look Back At...

I absolutely love Mega Man. Out of the countless games that I've played, the Mega Man series has without a doubt contained some of my favorites.

Unlike many other popular franchises, Mega Man has seen several variations of himself over the years. There's been Classic, X, Star Force, Battle Network, Legends, and Zero. These versions of the Blue Bomber have all allowed Capcom to experiment with different art styles, stories, and gameplay elements.

However, despite these different Mega Men, the core gameplay remained relatively the same. Challenging 2D side scrollers that ultimately lead to a boss that will grant you with a new power.

Now, that's fine. As I said, I love the Mega Man games and am always looking for great side scrollers to play. Mega Man 11 was a wonderful return to the core series. It modernized and expanded both it's gameplay and graphics to make it accessable to new generations of fans.

But, one of these spinoffs has always stuck out more to me than the rest. One of these truly deserves a second chance at life: 

Mega Man Legends.

The Legends series (consisting of 2 games) broke the mold of Mega Man in every sense. No longer was he traversing a 2 dimensional plane. The Blue Bomber was now blasting enemies away and kicking cans (y'all can't tell me you didn't spend a lot of time kicking it around) in a beautifully styled and interesting 3D world.

The Story

Yes. The classic games and X have stories. Yes, the X story is interesting. However, the Legends games took a narrative and made a much more in depth story.

To keep this post from being a novel, I’ll just provide the basic information (for those who have never played).

The world has flooded and resources are limited. Vast lands have now become islands that run on refractor energy. These refractors can be found in ancient ruins (often below the surface) that are excavated by Diggers. You are Mega Man: a Digger that is joined by his Spotter (someone who helps the Diggers navigate the ruins) Roll, Roll’s grandfather Barrell, and a little monkey named Data. Together you use your ship, the Flutter, to get to these ruins.

Many Diggers dream of finding THE MOTHERLODE, a supposed source of infinite power that can end the need for the search for energy. 

However, of course where there is good, there is also evil. Pirates also exist that try to steal treasures for their own selfish desires. Here you have the lovable trio of the Bonne Family. 

Despite the Bonne’s thought, there are much bigger threats lurking in the world. 

Gameplay

As stated before, this time Mega Man was exploring a (semi) 3D open world. There were several towns, open fields, and dark ruins to explore. The game also introduced a lock on system. This system would end up becoming a staple in many future 3D games such as Zelda.

In both Legends games, you would often complete story line quests in the towns which would lead you to gain the ability to gain ruin keys. Sometimes it would be retrieving an artifact, other times it would be defending a city from robot ducks flying large ships!

While I have to admit, the ruins in both games look similar aesthetically, the layouts and puzzles were often diverse. The ruins would be littered with Reaverbots and the end of each ruin would have a boss battle. I always enjoyed the boss battles in both Legends games. The designs and tactics of these bosses were always unique! 

In addition, not only were you able to upgrade your buster, but you could also research and unlock new weapons to use in battle (machine gun, landmines, rocket launcher, etc). You were even able to gain Jet Skates to help you traverse the lands quicker.

This ability to upgrade equipment took the place of Mega Man gaining new abilities after defeating a boss in previous games. It added a more rpg element to Mega Man. 

The Characters

Whether it was Roll, Tron ( MISS TRON!!!), Teisel, Glyde, Data, Barrell, or Mega Man, there were characters for everyone to love. Not only did the world feel fleshed out, but so did those who occupied it. You were able to easily understand what drove this quirky cast of characters and it only takes the first few minutes of playing to see why they are so great. They all worked so well together and played off of each other amazingly. 

Who couldn’t love the Bonne family antics and arguing, Tron’s crush on Mega (and jealousy of Roll), or even the lovable dancing monkey Data who helped you save the game. Aside from a driving story, there was also humor.

What really helped bring these wonderfully designed characters to life though: the PERFECT voice acting. The actresses and actors truly brought charisma, humor, and life to these characters.

The Future

With all do respect to my favorite Italian plumber, I have often thought about how a man with a mustache and overalls has become such an icon (and remained so) and other characters like Mega Man are continuously fading into the background over time. 

The answer of course is how Mario has been handled by Nintendo. 

I am a teacher and love connecting with my students through video games. Every year I find that a vast majority of my students have never even heard of Mega Man...but when I show them a picture of him, they think he is “really awesome”. Others have said “OH I”VE SEEN HIM IN SMASH BROS!”.

This isn’t a new revelation by any means. It’s been long understood that Capcom has not always handled Mega Man the way long time fans have wanted. Mario has continuously pushed boundaries in his series and Nintendo makes damn sure you know his face. 

In my humble opinion, the Legends series was Mega Man’s boundary pushing game. It brought with it new life, design, and deeper story. His creator Keiji Inafune has even stated that Legends was his favorite series. 

For those that don’t know, Mega Man Legends 3 was cancelled in 2011. Leaving the story unfinished.

Keiji Inafune also left Capcom to create his new studio Comcept. A promised spiritual successor to Legends called Red Ash was Kickstarted (and apparently had some shady dealings behind the scenes), however no current information has been shared about the game in a long, long time. 

Mega Man Legends deserves a revival. It has the action, adventure, style, and story to thrive in 2019. It is an elaborate world full of forgotten potential.

Maybe...one day...fans new and old will get just that. Capcom has released collections for Mega Man and Mega Man X. 

Maybe...we will see a Mega Man Legends HD Collection.

And maybe the Legends series can get a proper ending in a third installment.

#GETMEOFFTHEMOON

#BRINGBACKTHELEGENDS

[shock777archive]

I got this question on deviantart, and I felt like reposting my answer here, in case anyone is interested :P 

THIS IS GONNA BE A LONG REPLY BUT BEAR WITH ME LOL When I first started drawing/am I self taught : I've been drawing since kindergarten. Anime specifically, since I was about 8 years old. so that's been uh...18 years since I've started drawing in the anime-esque style? I am self taught on these areas. I picked up a digital artist tablet at the age of 13 or so, (it was a wacom Graphire 4 4x5 in) so it's been 13 years of digital art practice i've gotten in. I have picked up several how to draw books over the years until i surpassed some of them. But even now i'm constantly referencing tutorials and poses, looking for ideas and color palettes, etc. I have taken some schooling in college for art. I took beginner's drawing and color theory and maybe a little of art history but that's about it before i quit lmao What inspired me to draw in the first place/what I first drew: The thing that inspired me to draw in the first place was my favorite cartoons. from a very young age i knew that cartoons weren't real, but it fascinated me that actual people could create almost living people. I related to cartoons, and even though they were fake characters, I just loved the idea of creating a whole world of my own. So I took up drawing in kindergarten. First things I drew were flowers, rainbows, trees, etc. But My first biggest undertaking was powerpuffgirls. lol This was the series that started it all. Began drawing tons of powerpuffgirls stories and oc's. For the next few years I would watch different things like all the standard cartoon network shows. But I watched yugioh and dbz and other anime things too. What also got me into anime art style was the online game neopets lol Their faeries designs ( http://images.neopets.com/games/pages/icons/screenshots/586/4.jpg ) kind of had an anime resemblance, so I started drawing those for a while. When I was 8 or 9 years old my father bought me my first how to draw manga book (this one in particular: https://www.amazon.com/Art-Drawing-Manga-Ben-Krefta/dp/1841931713  ) looking back on it, this book is terrible and the anime in it is so ugly looking lol. However, i used that thing religiously and began making my own characters like a blue elf girl and a human friend of hers. ( in fact, here's the post. i tried redrawing them recently lol: https://shock777.tumblr.com/post/145898896143/finding-old-art-is-the-best-cause-you-can-redraw ) ...Then the real transformation began once I started watching Teen Titans when it aired in 2003. I was 10 at the time. That show started my love for japan. The language interested me and I began researching Japanese songs and trying to sing along to them. I didn't know what the words meant, but the artistic style and meshing of western cartoons and anime of the show really piqued my interest. My earliest drawings of them suckedddd XD; As Teen Titans drew to a close near 2006-2007 ish, I picked up Naruto and then it was all over since then lol my anime style and weeb days really came into full force lol I thank naruto though. I learned how to draw more realistic anatomy as opposed to cartoony anatomy. It was a very wild ride, but it's all documented here on my deviantart page as I got this exact account around the same time! I started posting my work in 2008, so you can go back far enough into my gallery and see the progress XD; I keep the old cringe up because it just motivates me and hopefully others, to keep drawing and keep going farther! :) PHEW lol long history there XD I do have some of my old art!!! If you wanna see some, I've posted a little here: https://shock777.tumblr.com/tagged/old-art plus I already said there's a few still on my dA gallery haha Tips I can give to you: 1. And I think this is most important, JUST KEEP GOING. It's soooo tempting to quit drawing when things aren't going right and when you're not happy with how your art looks. Trust me, every artist I've ever known including myself have gone through this. It's so easy to compare your work to someone else's. The thing is, we're all in this together. No one expects a newborn to be able to file taxes or drive a car lol. We all have to evolve and change, and that change comes from consistent work. Art isn't an inherent talent, it is hard work that is honed over several years of blood, sweat and tears lmao JUST KEEP GOING. as I've mentioned, my old cringe art is still on my dA page. Back then when I was younger I was less concerned with things being perfect and I spam posted almost every doodle. And I began a "fanbase" i guess because of those days and my consistent posting. I've had this freaking deviantart page for 11 freakin years. If I had stopped drawing whenever I felt my art was imperfect or not good enough, I would have stopped posting around 2009. so...just keep going. And I'd even dare you to post your "shitty doodles" that you think aren't that great. Because you never know what someone else will see in it that you don't. Be confident, and never give up! 2. Soak up any tutorial and really focus on studying your favorite artist's styles. If there's something you want to replicate in your art that someone else is drawing, try to see how they do it. sometimes artists have tutorials posted and sometimes they don't. I have a few posted on my youtube channel ( https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLRB9xQBsGpfetNJbmXWZ1fL9d5IlqQs1w ) and some in my gallery. Don't exactly copy some things stroke for stroke, but try to add your little spin to something. Like sometimes I will see art senpai drawing a specific eye style I wanna replicate, but I don't like one part of the process. So sometimes I'll just add my own little addition, or just omit that process completely. Usually though, if the art style isn't necessarily super unique, you can copy a lot of mainstream styles without anyone really griping saying "oh you're just copying so and so's art style". It's important to look up to art senpais i think. They make me want to try harder lol 3. Take an art class if you're able. Color theory really helped me grasp things that I never had before. LIKE REFLECTIVE LIGHT FOR INSTANCE. I never drew that shit but now I do because DUH it's so freaking obvious lol It also helps to learn what colors neutralize others, complementary colors, analogous ones, etc. It's nice to have an eye for what matches together and to know the principles of art. I still have a lot of work to do when it comes to perspective, which we did cover a little in class lol but work on your own pace. If your college near you offers a class for beginners, take it if you're able. it will help you view things differently. 4. Copy realistically. Like, I'm talking look at a freaking object in your room and try to draw it. Once you can draw it semi realistically, you can then add your own little stylistic choices to it. Like so many artists who draw chibis or cartoony things, they more than likely know the proper proportions of people and anatomy. But they draw the proportions all whacky and it creates their own style. However it does help to know how they work in reality lol 5. TRACE OVER POSES. Sometimes I do this. I'm not saying to trace someone's art, but if you see some kind of pose on say a google image, or a stock photo, try sketching over it to get a feel for where the joints connect if you're working on anatomy. It reaaaallly helps you memorize where the arm would end, or where the torso connects to the hips. 6. Take advice and criticism well. If someone sees something you don't about your art, they may be on to something. It's not wrong if someone gives you a heads up that a proportion seems lacking or something seems too big or out of place. It will actually help you to see what others see. Sometimes we get in the habit of drawing something a certain way and it's hard to break that habit especially if you've drawn the same thing several hundred times. It will help you in the long run to just accept that you're always going to be improving. You'll never be perfect at drawing, so what do you have to lose? Just keep walking forward and learn what you can. 7. Flip the canvas. This is more or less a digital art tip, but please flip the canvas to make sure the proportions are not off. lol A lot of professionals have to flip the canvas until they get a feel for where things are placed. Another good tip is to use a stabilizer of some kind to draw straight lines. Paint tool sai has one at the very top of the window. It helps tremendously. 8. Draw what you like and don't feel bad for not drawing everything everyone else likes. Don't sacrifice your morals or your personal desires for something everyone else likes. If you're paid to draw something you don't like, thats another thing. but don't let people pressure you to draw stuff that you don't want to. You'll be much happier, and build an audience that is much like-minded to you. Be considerate of what your audience likes, sure, but remember at the end of the day, art is something to express one's self. Art is not and should not be a job. Even if you get paid money to draw or design things, it's important to take a break and draw something for yourself every once in a while. Be self indulgent, and treat yo self from time to time :) And uhhh...that's all I can think of for the time being. :') let me know if you have any further questions or if I need to clarify anything :) Thanks again!

[mysticxapollo]

hello! hi! nice to meet you all!

akdasldkfj sorry this is so late. i was more busy today that i thought i’d be.

BUT HELLO!!

my name is rose. I’m from the pst area and it has been literal years since i’ve roleplayed. so please forgive me if i’m pretty rusty and don’t seem to know what i’m doing.  like changing my format a thousand times, but i honestly did that a lot before i disappeared from the world of RP.

ANYWHO

here i shall introduce my not so very smol but smol, semi-socially awkward bean, Apollo/Yeonghwa!

°✧｡ [ KIM TAEHYUNG, CISMALE, HE/HIM ] IT’S BEEN TWO YEARS SINCE APOLLO JOINED VELIA FROM BROOKLYN, NY, USA. APPARENTLY THEIR NAME IS YEONG-HWA "OLIVER" CHAE AND THEY’RE A MYSTIC. THEY HAVE BEEN FIGHTING AS SOLO PLAYER FOR A WHILE NOW. DIDN’T PEOPLE SAY THEY WERE NOT A BETA TESTER? I HEARD THEY TURNED TWENTY ONE THIS YEAR. LET’S HOPE THEY MAKE IT OUT ALIVE. 

a little shortcut bio while i fix up his bio page:

before velia

little yeonghwa was born in Brooklyn, NY.

there is no deep meaning to his english name oliver. i just like that name.

for the longest time he deemed life to be a bit boring. he wasn’t that great at making friends. always shy and never knowing what to say. leading him to usually being the loner on the side, being a wallflower.

his parents thought maybe an extracurricular activity would help him develop some social skills. and after much convincing, promising the boy got to choose what classes he'd take and they’d go out for ice cream once a week for two months, little eight year old yeonghwa chose to take some music classes.

yeonghwa thought his after-school program would be like private lessons, hoping he wouldn’t have to be judged in front of others. but of course he was wrong. he did fairly well with the piano, but when his teachers heard him sing along to an old jazz song, the switched his main class from instrumental to vocal.

he at first hated it. the class had more students. he didn’t like people. being around them anyways. but over time he found himself content with the presence of others, and his confidence in himself improved. thus breaking out of his shell and becoming more outgoing. he made it his goal to be a singer for his future career, even started a youtube channel.

as high school rolled around, his parents encouraged him to audition for a performing arts high school. he was unsure about it, since it was quite a distance from his house, but once learning his friends from the after school program he went to were going, he immediately agreed.

however, he was the only one from the program to have been accepted. so he was once again alone. he promised to hang out with them still but they kept declining his invites.

being alone didn’t affect him much this time around as he decided he just needed to put himself out there and he’ll have a new, and hopefully better and more loyal group of friends. and he was right. he joined clubs and found new hobbies, such as dance and photography. and in those clubs he found four of his best friends, his ride or dies. one of them being a girl named hana im. the five remained friends even through college.

 during his junior year of high school, his youtube channel began to get more recognition as he posted more dance and song covers, as well as originals. he also uploaded some vlogs that mainly consisted of some weird adventures he and his friends went on.

during his time in college, he double majored in medicine and music. medicine was the back up plan in case his music career doesn’t pan out the way he hopes it would. but his youtube channel became quite popular due to collaborations he had done with others and even officially released a few songs. he was slowly rising to fame and closer to reaching his career goal.

in velia

joined because his best friend hana, aka elektra, convinced their group to join. she promised it would be fun and a great stress reliever. he trusted her and her judgement, agreeing without a second thought.

he logged on, choosing to be a mystic with “apollo” as his username seeing as he admired the god of not only the sun, but of music and medicine as well. (they will all be addressed by their usernames from here on out)

and like always, elektra was right. they had lots of fun.

they had a blast. keyword: had

the reality of not being able to log out eventually took a toll on them. they made a mini guild and did their best to keep each other alive. apollo thought it wouldn’t be so difficult, especially with elektra by their side and each of them getting the hang of things quickly. 

but then elektra left, leaving him and the other three to try and fend for themselves. they started to panic, but apollo managed to keep them all calm, saying she’d be back. that they were all too close for her to just up and leave for good.

everyday he kept checking their friends list to make sure he saw the name “elektra” still there. it calmed him a bit, to know she was still alive. 

the remaining four worked until they had enough money to buy a house, then just took quests here and there if they needed any supplies or food. 

they had a good time, trying to live their lives to the fullest they could while being stuck in the virtual world.

but the good times didn’t even last more than a couple months. 

apollo had lost everyone. all but elektra, as he still saw her name still on his friends list. but she never returned like he thought she would.

his last friend had died in his arms. they were out on a walk when they were ambushed by monsters. by the time they killed them all, he didn’t realize how much damage his friend had taken until it was too late, not giving him enough time to heal and save them. instead, he sang them a song for their final moments.

he sold their house and bought a smaller one in a more isolated area.

he was alone again. he went solo. not having the heart or will to join another guild. also now trust issues. the friends he made in the game were now like acquaintances. and most of his time was now dedicated to leveling up and fighting in the front lines. 

when he’s not fighting, he spends his time in two way. the first being traveling from floor to floor helping those in need. he has considered joining unity a couple times, but the memory of his friends constantly held him back. --second, just spending time in the warmer areas, sun bathing while singing to himself or reading a book.

he’s still a friendly person. just back to square one with his socially awkward state. he’s afraid to get close to people. but give him time and he’ll eventually come around.

i feel like this is a mess. but i’m a mess. so it’s okay. i think. 

if not, i should have his bio page up soon. (should.)

lmao whale. that’s my little bean. 

i look forward to rping with you all!

if you’d like to plot just let me know! or like this post and i’ll send you a message!