#i love art and i feel like its what my soul is meant for but please fr the love of god be honest to me when i ask for critique

[twdgs]

i’m lucky that all my art teachers are nice but at the same time i would like harsher criticism sometimes lol 😭

[horsefigureoftheday]

Can you explain the "breyer horses are stylised" thing you said a while back? Not because I don't believe you but because I don't know enough about horses to see it (besides the mane and tail)

All artistic representations of a horse will be somewhat stylized. Humans can't help it, they imagine details, even when referencing photos or live animals. A swayed back gets exaggerated, sickle hocks are overlooked, the face becomes more expressive, because to a human who loves a horse, and who expresses their own emotions with their face, the horse's face just feels more expressive.

Take a look at this horse from Peter Paul Rubens' "Wolf and Fox Hunt" (1616) and how it compares to a photo of a horse

The artist was clearly familiar with horses, and most likely referenced off a live horse. And yet its face is much more expressive than a real horse's face - it's neotenous and borderline anthropomorphic, with its huge sorrowful eyes, and the short muzzle that puts the mouth in closer proximity to its eyes (making its expression more readable).

I think a lot of people see what they want to see when they look at a horse, and they reflect that in their art. Is the horse an independent agent or a tool of its rider? Is the horse an unthinking animal or a soulful creature like yourself? Does the artist admire animals, in spite of painting them in terrible war-like scenarios? Does the artist paint animals in these scenarios because he admires them? Is the horse meant to elevate the status of its rider, by being depicted as a soulful creature that nonetheless submits to its rider? (You can probably guess my own opinion from these questions)

Earlier art saw horses almost an afterthought, depicted from memory while their rider was drawn reverently. All those art pieces of emperors and kings on horseback, where the horse looks like a cartoonish oaf, use the horse as a symbol of power, with no regard for the animal itself. Even when the horse is beautifully rendered, it's nothing more than a vehicle to carry its rider. The artist has depicted the horse as expressionless, beastly, and soulless.

Even when you get into portraits of horses in the 17-/1800s, they are still stylized, though now you're just as likely to see a lithe and graceful companion, as you are a muscled working horse or a faithful old friend. Horse breeding really took off around this time, as did theories of animal minds, so adoration of horses-as-individuals became more widespread. Examples are "Lustre" (1762) by George Stubbs, "Mare and Foal in a Stable" (1854) by John Frederick Herring Senior, and "A Grey Horse in a Field" (1873) by Rosa Bonheur.

All this is to say that horses will always be stylized in art. Humans can't not twist the horse the suit their own tastes, and that's fine. I actually think it's kinda beautiful. The way horses are stylized can give you insight into the artist's opinion of horses. An artist with a neotenic, expressive stylization probably has more respect for horses-as-individuals than an artist who depicts them as inexpressive, powerful, willing beasts of burden.

Breyer horses have an airy painterly quality to them. Even the draft horses seem almost weightless. Compare Breyer's "George" with the self-released resin horse "Gustav," both sculpted by Brigitte Eberl.

George has much longer hooves and smoother curves in his legs - you could draw a near perfect curve from his hind knee to his toe -, giving him a flowing appearance with very little weight behind it. Gustav, on the other hand, has sharp edges and corners. He feels heavy. I'm a big fan of wrinkles and muscle on model horses, but the muscles on George seem like he's been through a rock tumbler. They're smooth and soft-looking, except for the extremely deep crevices between them, which are probably there to better catch paint and enhance the shading (an effect that's especially noticeable on George's thigh). Gustav, on the other hand, has very subtle muscling and virtually no wrinkles (he deserves neck wrinkles, give my boy neck wrinkles!!). He looks like a working horse with a solid layer of fat over his muscles. George's stylization is, for lack of a better word, smooth. Flawless. A bit too perfect for my liking. George is like the platonic ideal of a visually appealing draft horse. A horse like him can't exist.

I think resin horses by master craftsmen are the closest we'll get to depicting horses exactly as they are in life. The stylistic choices are extremely subtle, and seem more like a consequence of the medium than a deliberate goal on the artist's part (e.g., you can't make a realistic mane out of resin, so you have to compromise).

I love both the stylistic trappings that humans fall into when depicting horses and the endless quest for the perfect artistic representation of the horse. Both are beautiful. All horse art is beautiful.

(Obligatory disclaimer that I'm not an art historian or anthropologist, I literally studied bugs at university, so if you think I'm talking out of my ass you are MORE than welcome to add to this post!)

[arcanefox207]

The Wolf You Feed (Part 1)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 8k

Part 1 / ? (Ongoing Series)

Summary: Set in fictional New England town, you fall for your handsome, intense and outdoorsy neighbor while renting out your parent's vacant summer home during a brutal winter.

Warnings: No Outbreak, AU but with TLoU characters, Large age gap (Reader is 29. Joel is 50). This chapter includes smut with fingering and cum eating. Dominant Joel. Eventual Angst. Drinking Alcohol. Pet names but no use of Y/N. Reader is smaller than Joel and has hair he can grab. 

Chapter Excerpt: He presses a gentle kiss behind your ear and another one drags to your jawline and to the soft meat of your neck. His coarse beard scrapes against your skin and makes you shudder. You press your ass into him and feel him hard against your lower back. He responds by pressing into you firmly and brings his mouth to your ear. 

“You feel what you do to me, beautiful girl?” He asks with his low, gravely voice and presses another kiss into you. His heat is searing into you.

A/N: Please hang in there. This chapter has a lot of setup and is a bit of a slow burn. Its also my first fic and I am pouring my heart and soul into it.

A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T | N O T I F I C A T I O N

“Remember, if you need anything you can ask Joel. He knows his way around the house” your mother reminds you. 

“Thanks, I will be fine but I’ll keep that in mind.” You appease her but have no intention of bothering her neighbor.

“Love you, honey. Talk later!”

“Bye mom. Love you.” You end the call and slump back against the couch. This was going to be your home for the next few months. Your parents had gone south to avoid the brutal New England winter and had offered their summer vacation home in Kineo to you in the interim. No rent and plenty of free time to figure out what to do with your life next. All you had to do was pay the utilities and keep an eye on things.

The offer was genuine but also came from a place of concern. You had spent the last few years living a more-or-less nomadic life and poorly indulging your dreams of adventure. Your bachelors degree in Liberal Arts proving to be as useless as everyone told you it would be. It got you jobs easy enough but nothing that felt like a long term career. It all felt directionless but you also had been hell bent on proving everyone else wrong and keeping up the appearance that you were doing just fine. 

Your past relationships were nothing too exciting either. Months of casually dating someone and it not really going anywhere or random hookups that you regretted the next day. One or two guys you were getting serious with but ultimately scared you off when they started talking about a family in their big picture. You were starting to get cynical about any compatible prospects.

You are only 29 and wonder if a midlife crisis before your 30’s is normal. At least, that is what it felt like was happening. You had been treading water for too long and felt like you were too tired to keep swimming.

Your mother finally wore you down enough when your lease was up at your Boston apartment and you had no real obligations. You hated your current job, your roommates were little more than acquaintances and the busy city life scene was starting to lose its charm especially when it was astronomically expensive to live there. It was getting harder to say no so you agreed to her offer. 

You had to admit living in the country sounded like a nice change. You had a few months to figure stuff out and the thought of something new was exciting to you. Even if it meant continuing to endure the bitter winter, you had a chance to start fresh somewhere new. Something different. 

You didn’t grow up here and spent most of your life living in suburban homes with slightly warmer climates. Your parents had bought a small one bedroom vacation home in a sleepy New England town that they mostly only enjoyed in the prime summer months. The home sat mostly vacant otherwise. They would rent it out for weeks at a time but in the winter months no one from away wanted to go there. Too far from ski resorts and civilization to be of interest to a casual vacationer. It had a lake that drew much attention from outsiders only when it wasn’t frozen. The town was reduced to just the year-round locals in the coldest months.

Your new residence was outside the main populous of Kineo and nearby the lake. In fact, you could see the lake peeking through the thick pine trees out the front window if you looked hard enough. 

The closest and only neighbor in sight was the handyman your parents raved about across the street. He kept an eye on the place while they were away. You had never interacted with him on your occasional summer visits, but knew he had been kind to your folks and heard about him often enough. You occasionally saw him out in his yard from afar and he would give a lazy wave to your parents in passing. You never really got a good look at him up close but from what you could see he looked rugged and fit and always wore jeans and work boots. He had a modest waterfront cabin across the street and seemed to keep to himself.

You had arrived just a few days ago and already had a job lined up at the local coffee shop, Grind. You were getting your caffeine fix and saw a help wanted sign in their window and you had no trouble securing the job when you chatted with the owner. She hired you on the spot and seemed desperate but grateful that you actually had enthusiasm for coffee and knew your Americanos from your Lattes. Grind Coffee House was on the main drag along with some other quaint shops. It was charming enough and an easy 10 minute drive from your house. The pay was pitiful but would be enough to get by. Things seemed to be lining up perfectly.

You went to bed early that night and felt optimistic that this was going to be good for you. This was going to be the reset that you craved. A new adventure. It was like nothing you had experienced before and maybe that was exactly what you needed.

–

Shit. Your first day working at Grind and you can’t even get the car to start. 

It was freezing cold. The kind of cold that hurts when it touches your exposed skin. You turn the key in the ignition again and the engine makes a pathetic attempt to turn over. Nothing. Fuck. 

You turn the key again. Nothing. Fuck fuck fuck. You pull out your phone and realize you have no idea what to do other than call your new boss and make a horrible first impression. No, that wasn’t going to do. You look in the rearview mirror and see across the street that lights are on at your neighbors house, despite the early hour. As quickly as the thought crosses your mind you push it away. No. No way were you going to bother him at this hour. You hadn’t even officially met the guy yet.

You pull up Google on your phone and scan the first few results for “car won’t start” and narrow it down to engine troubles or dead battery. Either outcome is something you are not equipped to handle. 

A few moments pass and you reluctantly weigh the options. Would a garage even be open this early? How long would that take to get someone out there? You were wasting time and had to do something. You curse to yourself and go back inside the house.

You walk over to the fridge where a note is hanging front and center “Joel Miller” with a phone number neatly printed. Your mothers careful handwriting to contact the poor neighbor that she probably harasses all the time. You sigh and open your phone to dial the number.

It rings a few times, and then you hear a gravelly voice that catches you off guard. 

“Hello?” A deep and thick, unfamiliar accent answers. Not what you were expecting. 

“Hi, Mr. Miller.” a long pause and you stumble over your words. “I uh, I’m sorry to call you so early. I'm Rick and Linda’s daughter.” and mumble your name. Another pause. 

“Ah, right. Whatcha need, kid?” He asks with little expression in his tone. You can’t tell if he is annoyed or just sounded that way. 

“My car won’t start and I–” you pause, not too sure how to ask for help from a stranger. “I don’t know what to do...” Your voice trails off with uncertainty on how to ask for help or what you are even expecting. 

You hear a long exhale on the other end, like he is letting all the air out of his lungs while he is thinking on it. 

“Dead battery most likely… on a day like this. I’ll be right over.” He hangs up the phone before you can say another word and instead say thank you out loud to yourself and let your voice trail off. You instantly regret making the call.

You zip up your coat, pull your knit hat snug over your ears and head back outside when you see a black Ford pickup truck ease into your driveway. A tall man wearing a brown suede jacket approaches. The morning light is faint but you can make out that he is much older and has some silver streaking his hair and beard. He looks weathered and rugged but also has a warmness about him that is hard to reconcile with his rough exterior.     

“Joel Miller, I presume?” you nervously laugh and awkwardly introduce yourself for the second time. You attempt to be extra friendly and maybe penetrate his bristly wall. It seems to help when he notices you are a young woman and not some bratty teenager that your parents probably made you out to be. He takes a step forward and reaches a hand out towards you, nodding. He firmly shakes your hand and you are taken aback by how his grasp seems to engulf you.

“Pleasure to meet you, darling.” His voice is smooth and polite and has the tiniest hint of playfulness in his tone. You can’t place his accent, but you know it isn’t from around here and only someone from away would say ‘Darling’ so casually to a stranger. 

His dark brown eyes hold your gaze for a moment and he has the faintest smirk as he subtly scans your body. It sends goosebumps down your spine. You are grateful that you made an extra effort to look cute for your first day of work. You realize your hands are still embraced and nervously laugh as you pull away. He gets right down to business, but not before stealing another peek of your body when he thinks you aren’t looking.  

“Lets see what we got here.'' He climbs into the driver's seat and in no time confirms it's the battery when he hears your car's engine protest. He walks over to his tailgate and brings back some jumper cables. 

You stand there with your arms wrapped around your body trying to hold in as much warmth as possible. Your bare hands clenched in a fist and tucked in as far as they could in your jacket sleeve to shelter from the cold. Your teeth chattering as you try to stand out of the way but want to be nearby too. At least give the illusion you can be helpful if he needs something. You regret your first meeting being a clueless damsel in distress, but maybe he liked that sort of thing. His tune did seem to change once he saw you. 

Joel returns and leans over the edge of the seat leaving the door wide open, his large palm dragging up slowly from the floor to the steering column, searching for the hood release. His finger catches on the button and he pops the hood. It’s hard not to stare at him while he slides his expert hands with reckless abandon.

His eyes find yours and the corner of his mouth raises slightly. You question if you are mistaking his caught you watching me look for more than what it was. He seems to enjoy you watching him work. He steps away from the seat and pulls a pair of work gloves from his back pocket as he works to connect your car to his truck with the jumper cables. He starts his truck back up and approaches you. Your breath and his making little frozen clouds as you exhale. 

“You can sit in my truck if you want, it’s plenty warm in there.” He gestures with his thumb over his shoulder. “This will just be a minute.” You thank him and take him up on his offer and climb into his passenger seat. He has a classical rock station playing on the radio. A thermos sitting in the center console. You glance in the back seat and see some neatly organized tools and miscellaneous junk on the floor. It smells metallic and leathery. 

You outstretch your hands to the vents that are pouring warm air into the cabin and relish the heat.  

A few moments pass and you don’t see much of what’s going on with the hood of the truck blocking your view. You doom scroll on Instagram to keep yourself busy but your mind keeps thinking about Joel. You were in no way prepared for your neighbor to be so fucking handsome. It felt absurd to be so turned on by him.

He’s too old. You tell yourself. Don’t even think about it. 

Your thoughts are interrupted as the hood slams shut and Joel opens the driver's door. He reaches his arm out to grab his thermos while he climbs into the seat with a groan. The door shuts hard behind him and a blast of cold air invades your space briefly.  

“Damn cold one today” He says it with a huff as more of an observation than a complaint. He takes a sip of his coffee and looks over to you. You nod in agreement and find yourself caught up in what to say to him. He pulls off his gloves and tosses them in his backseat. He rests his arm along the back of the seat and it is nearly touching your shoulder. The way his body takes up the space makes you feel small and helpless. Then, you remember you are small and helpless compared to him. He doesn’t feel threatening towards you but you certainly does give off the aura that he could be intense in the right circumstance. You find that undeniably attractive.

“Your folks called me last week. Told me you were gonna be staying here a while.” His eyes are back focused on you. “Meant to come over this weekend and introduce myself.” he seems a little nervous and takes another sip of his coffee. “Didn’t wanna bother you, though.” 

You feel a small smile start to grow on your face. The thought that he shared the same reservations brought comfort. Joel rests his thermos between his legs while still holding it with one hand. He looks like he is hesitating to say something but does it anyway. He looks over at you with tender eyes, 

“Didn’t expect.. You know...” He makes an unreadable expression as he is searching for the words and scans your body up and down. “Someone like you.” You were not entirely sure what he meant by that, but his smoldered stare on your body made you feel hot inside and your cheeks flush. He looked at you with intrigue and it made you feel good. It made you feel wanted. It had been too long since you felt that way.  

In fact, it has been too long since you had any sort of relationship. Even a casual lay.  

“You really saved my ass this morning. Thank you.” You pause and feel yourself giving a sultry gaze back at him. “I owe you one.” Joel makes a no big deal gesture with his hand and a cocky smile as he chews the inside of his cheek. In that brief moment you feel something between the two of you. The desire to flirt; tempt a man with at least 20 years on you. An unexpected but undeniable magnetic pull. A curiosity to learn what lies beneath. A forbidden fruit that is ripe and beckoning for you to take a bite. Something different. Something exciting. Something you know you should stifle before it even begins.  

His eyes reflect the same sentiment but also harbor concern and restraint. It’s a bad idea. The brief silence between you looms loudly. The elephant in the room. 

“Where ya’ off to so early anyways?” he asks, eager to change the subject. He takes another sip of his coffee while you reply.

“Oh, first day working at Grind. You know it?” Joel's demeanor changes in a subtle way that you may not have seen if you weren’t so focused on trying to read him.  

“Oh. Yeah..” he chides and looks down, pensive in thought as he brings his hand to the back of his neck and rakes it through his hair. “I know the place.” He glances back up and avoids eye contact. The bite in his voice does not go unnoticed, but you don’t pry. 

An uncomfortable subject; noted.   

“Better coffee than this I reckon” he says as he places his thermos back in the center console. He attempts to lighten the tone and then glances at his watch.

“I gotta get to work, sweetheart. Keep your car runnin’ for a bit and you should be all set. Probably get that battery replaced.” His tone is more serious now, more business-like. You realize you had been waiting in his truck longer than necessary. You really have to get to work anyways. 

You thank him again and return to your car. He waits for you to get in and raises his fingers off his steering wheel in a lazy wave to signal he was leaving. He backs out of your driveway and heads down the road towards town.

You take a deep breath and adjust the knobs in your car. Joel had put everything on high heat and full blast for you and your car was now unbearably toasty. You tune your radio and ease into the road and on your way to work. 

All the while your mind can’t stop thinking about your charming, handyman neighbor. 

So that's Joel Miller. You smile to yourself and faintly feel butterflies in your stomach. Anxious thoughts that excite and frighten you.  

–

It took Marlene all of five minutes to become your new work bestie. She was efficient and smart and knew her way around the place. She was the only one working when you arrived and despite the line of customers she was friendly and teased you for arriving late on your first day. 

Marlene had great rapport with everyone. It was apparent that the customers were all regulars and she wasted no time introducing you to them. She had a somewhat forward style but it was well received because she knew exactly what she was doing and didn’t waste time being flowery and over the top. It reminded you of the brashness of Boston.

After the morning rush things were relatively calm. You had time to chat and get to know her a little more while she was showing you the ropes. It wasn’t complicated and you were a quick study.

By mid afternoon it was time to close up shop. The hours were a perk. You were scheduled to work weekdays from open till close and would have to occasionally help out on Saturdays. Marlene worked the same shift and the weekends were mostly covered by high schoolers. 

It was just after 2 o’clock when the owner, Tess, stopped by. 

“How did it go?” she asks you both as she takes a seat and rests her bag on the counter. Marlene had no intention of telling her you were late and talked you up, pleased with your presence. Tess had a few other properties she owned so her time at the coffee shop was only as needed and Marlene you learnt was more or less the one who ran things day to day. 

You recap the day and thank her again for the job. You did genuinely enjoy the work. It was easy. Simple and straightforward. You got to know lots of town folk and everyone was curious and interested in meeting the new girl in town.

Tess seemed pleased enough and was quick to head out. She was friendly but brief and gave the impression she had other responsibilities that demanded her attention. She joins you behind the counter briefly and pours herself a black hot coffee in a to-go cup. Another perk of the job was indulging in all the free coffee. 

“Let me know if you guys need anything!” She says energetically as she collects her bag and heads out the door. She flips the sign to “closed” as she leaves. 

“Tess is cool. She doesn’t interfere too much and we only see her a few times a week, if that.” You nod to acknowledge Marlene. “Lets finish cleaning up and get out of here.”

It was nice leaving with the sun bright and warm. Winter meant shorter days, so getting out of work with a few hours of daylight felt luxurious. The bitter cold from the morning had made its departure. 

You had been so focused with work it wasn’t until you got back to your car that you allowed yourself to think about Joel again. You know you shouldn’t but can’t help feeling turned on at the thought of him. He was handsome in that brooding, mysterious way and he emanated competence. It was refreshing and welcomed. 

You decided to send him a text message. You had his number in your recent contacts after all and you were curious if he would play along. You were certain that there was something sparked between the two of you, but unsure if he would act on it. Unsure if there were too many obstacles between you.

You keep it simple and friendly.   

You: Thanks again for your help! 

Your car starts up with no issue and you head home. When you arrive you glance down to your phone to see a simple reply. 

Joel: Anytime

It was brief but you couldn’t help but read it with that low, southern drawl. His voice was so distinct. Polite but stern. You add him as a contact in your phone and wonder if he did the same. 

You take a shower, make some dinner and get comfortable in your bed. It’s early and you watch some TV when you hear your phone chime. You glance at your phone and see Joel Miller has you on his mind as he revives the conversation with you. 

Joel: So how did it go? 

You smile and recount this feeling like you were a teenager talking to your crush. You want to gush about your first day but you play it cool and brief. 

You: Went good, I think I’ll like it there

A few minutes pass. Against your better judgment you start to go into details but delete it before you hit send. You recalled his strange reaction earlier when you brought up Grind. This man has you second guessing yourself and you don’t want to blow it before it even begins. He replies instead before you elaborate.

Joel: Glad to hear. Thought you would. 

You: I’m exhausted though, getting to bed

You decide to be playful and see how he reacts. 

You: Goodnight, Mr. Miller.  

Joel: Just Joel. 

Joel: Goodnight darling

Darling. Even if it was just a typical Southern phrase it made you wild. It was uncommon to hear in the north and felt so endearing and warm. The knots in your stomach return as you struggle to fall asleep. Your mind is too excited to see where things go from here. You knew he was interested in you enough to keep talking. It would have been easy for him to end the conversation there and keep things formal and neighborly. 

Your mind wanders thinking about how truly handsome he is. How badly you want his manly, rough hands on your body. How his voice makes you melt. How his domineering  presence makes you tingle in your core. You feel yourself starting to get wet just at the thought of his body and what you wanted to do to it. What you wanted him to do to you. Sinful thoughts.

You slide your hand between your legs and feel yourself already wet and wanting. Your delicate fingers tease circles over your clit and it doesn’t take long before you get off. You feel ashamed to be lusting over an old man you barely know, but nevertheless wish it was Joel’s rough hands on you.   

You wonder if he is doing the same thing and sharing the same thoughts about you.

–

A few uneventful days go by and now it’s Friday. You haven’t seen much of Joel other than his truck occasionally driving off, but he had been stuck on your mind all week. Lonely nights accompanied by dirty thoughts of Joel that only fueled your yearning to get closer to him. Your inhibitions regarding age and disapproval of your parents were blinded by your building desire. It still weighed on you though. Your parents would be appalled and probably disown you if they knew. It would just be another tick on the disappointment list.   

Work is busy and the day flies by. Just a few hours to go. You are taking a break, sitting at one of the tables by the front window and snacking on a blueberry scone. You reason with yourself that tonight is as good as any to try to make something happen. 

You: You doing anything tonight?

An agonizing hour passes and no reply. Your message is on read. Marlene takes notice of your change in demeanor. When things finally slow down and its just the two of you waiting around to close up she presses you.

“So.. whats going on? You look distant.” 

“Just trying to… make friends here.” You pause. “A friend in particular.” Your voice trails off. Marlene catches on quick and she had suspected you were starting to fall for someone. 

“Anyone I know?” Marlene knows everyone. You don’t want her judgment on the matter so you keep it vague.

“My neighbor. He doesn’t seem the type to come to a place like this though.” Your phone chimes and you try to play down your excitement as you look down and see it’s from Joel. You can barely contain a smile. 

Joel: Just got done a job. No plans

Marlene searches your face and rolls her eyes.  

“Just go over then. Easy enough.” she was right. 

“Yeah, I think I will.” 

The rest of the shift goes by quickly and you are both out the door by 3 o’clock.

You sit in your car and decide to just call him already. You were craving to hear his voice again and you wanted to put him on the spot. He answers quickly.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Joel. I still owe you, you know for helping me out earlier.” Joel sighs in defeat. 

“I see you aint lettin’ that go. What did ya have in mind?” 

“Can I come over tonight? I’ll bring over drinks.” Your offer was more forward than you intended, but you went with it.

“Yeah, ok. Sounds good.” He pauses and has a counter offer for you. “Come over for dinner first?” You melt at the thought and realize you haven’t responded and there is a silence while you are getting lost in your thoughts. “Grilling steaks. Nothin’ fancy.”

“Yeah. Sounds good.” You can feel your smile spilling into the phone. That sounds more than good. It sounds really fucking good.  

“Alright. Come over ‘round 7.” 

“Ok. See you tonight.” You end the call and take a deep breath. Your heart is beating out of your chest in excitement. 

–

Getting ready for the night you attempted a relaxed look. You wanted to look nice, but approachable. You had some worn jeans that tucked neatly into your Bean boots. A button down flannel that you left undone over an intentionally low cut, fitted shirt. It accented your chest just right. You wore your hair down and went light on the makeup. You threw on a light leather jacket and grabbed the six pack of beer as you head across the street. 

Joel opens the door and leans in the doorframe with a casual figure, taking you in while he bites his lip,

“Evening' sweetheart” He steps back and holds the door open for you and gestures to come in. He was definitely a gentleman. You normally are not a fan of the pet names, but he worked them into his vocabulary so smoothly it was welcomed. 

You step inside and turn around, holding up the six pack of beer.

“Sam Adams. That ok?” He shuts the door and nods in approval. “Figured I’d bring some Boston culture over.” You step further inside. His kitchen is just off the main entrance and has an island with some bar stools at it. You make your way over and take a seat and rest the case on the countertop. 

Your eyes scan the room. His kitchen is tidy, save the spot where he prepped the steaks. You see an empty whiskey glass. Evidence that he had at least one stiff drink before you came over. You panic a little and regret not doing the same.  

“That where you lived before this?” He interrupts your thought as he stands across you at the island. His crossed forearms holding him up as he leans towards you with intrigue. He is dressed plainly in a pair of worn jeans and a plain navy blue t-shirt that hugs his arms just right. His biceps bulge as he is leaning forward and your mind is now preoccupied with just how broad his shoulders are. You almost forgot he asked you a question.

“Yeah, for a few years anyways.” You briefly recount, distracted when Joel takes a beer bottle from the case and effortlessly pops the cap with his large, calloused hands. A satisfying hiss escapes the bottle followed by a clink as the cap falls to the countertop. He slides it over to you and repeats the motion again for himself.

“Oh, wow.” you say out loud, without realizing it. Joel has that cocky side smirk again, well aware of his impressive party trick. He holds the bottle up and towards you and you do the same, clanking bottle necks together and taking a sip. Your eyes are locked on each other for a moment; trying to read each other's intentions.  

“Make yourself comfortable. I’m gonna put the steaks on.” he gestures his head to the back door that leads onto the deck. He grabs his suede jacket off the back of a chair and walks towards the back entrance. You trail behind and this was the first time you really noticed just how beautiful his home was. 

His open living room and kitchen had a vaulted ceiling with massive windows lining the whole back side of the cabin. It faced the lake and you could imagine how serene it would be to watch the sunrise. The cedar walls and flooring made it feel cozy and inviting. There was a large wood stove in the center of the living room and an open loft above the back of the living room. The deck seemed to wrap along a good part of the home. 

“Your home is beautiful.” It had looked so much more discrete from the road; tucked behind some pines and a long driveway. The backyard was a short distance to the lake and sloped slightly down to a dock. Joel probably had a boat parked there in the summer. The cabin was perched perfectly with a breathtaking view; isolated and private from the world.

“Thank you. I built it myself. Me and my brother Tommy.” 

“Thats… impressive.” 

“Eh, just comes with being a contractor. Made more sense to build my own place the way I wanted.” There it was again, that feeling in your core that excites you. Joel likes to be in control, and he has the skill set to back it up making it all the more alluring. 

Its a cool night, but not uncomfortably cold to be outside for a few minutes with a jacket. In fact, you are grateful to have the crisp air to help ground you and calm you down. It was embarrassing how easily Joel could work you up. You lean over the railing and gaze out over the lake while he tends to the grill for a moment and then joins you at the railing.

“I spent a few years there myself. Boston.” This was news to you, but you were still curious about his Southern accent. 

“And… before?” 

“Texas.” He takes a sip of his beer. “Most my life.” You smile and give a slight laugh. 

“Well, that certainly explains things. You don’t exactly sound like a New Englander” you tease him. Joel laughs and looks a little distant. Something you have come to realize about Joel is that he has a lot on his mind he doesn’t say out loud. His mysterious demeanor was something you found as attractive as it was frustrating. 

“You like it here so far?” He asks.

“I do. Its simple and peaceful. Life is easy here.” you realize while saying this out loud that you mean it. You really are enjoying your time in Kineo more than you ever had expected. “And… my neighbor isn’t so bad.” You tease. Joel rolls his eyes and returns to the grill, pulling the steaks off.

“Mine is a pain in the ass.” He jokes as he closes the grill. He wasn’t wrong. You were persistent if anything. 

–

Dinner is laid back and enjoyable. He has a small dining room table but you choose to sit next to each other at the island drinking your Sam Adams and enjoying your ribeye steaks. Joel cooked them to perfection. You stay seated long after you are done eating, getting carried away with conversation. Your bodies are facing each other and knees knocking into his as you get animated with your storytelling. 

Joel mostly listens while you ramble on. The more you drink the lower your inhibitions get. You are a lightweight to begin with and it doesn’t take much. You don’t even notice that he isn’t really listening to you anymore. His focus has left your well intended words and shifted to your body. He’s looking at your low-cut shirt teasing him. The way you brush your hair out of your face when you laugh. How your neck looks so inviting when you tilt your head back to take a sip of beer, You don’t register that he is eyeing you crudely like you are a piece of meat. That he is fighting every urge inside him to just lose himself with you. 

He inches his hand along the countertop closer to yours until he is grazing your wrist with a light touch and dragging his fingers back across yours. It sends a shiver through your body as you become aware how he is looking at you and how painfully reserved his touch is. It is polite but intrusive. He watches how it makes you feel. How you start to come undone. 

Your pent up feelings are starting to overwhelm you and you excuse yourself reluctantly. Your heart starts to race and you wonder if he can hear it beating. 

You get up and bring your plate over to the sink to wash it. It is a distraction more than anything while you gather yourself. Joel watches you from behind for a moment. You can feel his gaze burning into you and brace yourself against the counter. You like the way it feels. The way he makes you feel wanted. 

That loud silence returns. The air in the room feels heavy. He joins you at the sink and you can feel his heat envelop you as he approaches you from behind. His broad body boxes you in and makes you feel small and vulnerable. 

Joel takes his hands and dances his fingers down your arms lightly. His touch starts a fire inside you and you crave a heavier hold. You need him like you need air in your lungs. He presses a gentle kiss behind your ear and another one drags to your jawline and to the soft meat of your neck. His coarse beard scrapes against your skin and makes you shudder. You press your ass into him and feel him hard against your lower back. He responds by pressing into you firmly and brings his mouth to your ear. 

“You feel what you do to me, beautiful girl?” He asks with his low, gravely voice and presses another kiss into you. His heat is searing into you. 

He agonizingly slides his hands down to your hips and turns you to face him. He pushes your body gently against the countertop and moves one of his hands up to caress your face. He presses his hips into you and holds your chin gently between his thumb and finger. He stares down at you with a thirst in his eyes. He narrows his focus to try to get a reading on you. Your mouths are just inches apart. There is a hunger he is resisting but the wolf inside is slowly starting to win over reason. 

“I want this, Joel.” You stare up at him and make sure he can see the desire in your eyes and that you are serious. You want to remove any hesitations he has on your account. You try to rock your hips into him but he has you pinned. He can feel your needy attempt.  

“We shouldn’t…” Joel pleads, but his words are empty and not speaking the same language as his body. 

Your age, your parents, your unfamiliarity with one another all should be reason enough to quelch this flame, but it just makes you want it that much more. He has wanted you since he first laid eyes on you that morning he came to your rescue. He wants to be respectful but fails, instead teasing you with how much he wants you. The hesitance is an illusion that he has kept up until that moment. Your body is trapped against his and he is looking at you like you are prey in his clutches. You had suspected and even hoped that Joel was a dominant lover with how confident he carried himself.   

You seize the opportunity to show him just what he is doing to you. 

You push your tongue into him and taste him; sweet and malty. His warm and wet mouth is inviting and intense. All reluctancy fades away as he gives in to you and takes control with his tongue. You can feel his cock is hard and straining against his jeans as he rocks into you. Your arms hang around his neck and tangle into his hair as you grind against each other. The friction of both your bodies sending each other into a frenzy.

He drags his mouth away, biting at your lower lip as he moves along your jawline to the soft skin at your neck. You stretch your head back giving him full access to your bare neck as he nips at you hungrily. His scruffy beard rubs roughly against your supple skin and feels so good. One hand roams up your shirt while his mouth traces lower and lower down to your collarbone. He thumbs and circles over your nipple. He can feel it harden through your bra and engulfs your breast with his large hand. His touch is brazen but you welcome it. You can feel just how badly he wants to devour you and it makes you moan.   

He slides his expert hand from your breast and drags it down to your jeans. He unbuttons them hastily with force and works his hand slowly inside. Your underwear is already wet from your arousal. He pulls his mouth away from you and has a devilish grin as he grabs at your pussy and narrows his eyes on you.

“You’re so wet for me.” He says breathlessly with anticipation while he has you in his grasp. 

He slides his hand inside your waistband and teases your clit as his hand slides against you. You want to reply to him but your words are trapped beneath the moans caught in your throat. He brings a finger to your opening and slowly pushes the tip inside you. The pressure from his large, calloused fingers makes you buck into him. He rubs his thumb over your clit as he slowly teases your entrance with his finger. He takes it slow and when he thinks you are ready he slips another one inside.

You can feel your walls clench around his obscenely thick fingers and he pushes deeper. Twisting and playing at your entrance and thrusting in. Your hips writhe in his grasp. While one hand is busy with your cunt the other has an iron grip on the back of your neck. His mouth messily returns to the soft skin above your collarbone and into the crook of your neck. You are completely at his mercy and can’t imagine any other place you’d want to be. 

You are so tight but he stretches you open artfully. Moans escape your lips as you gasp when his fingers dip further into you, reaching that perfect part deep inside. 

“Come for me.” He pants into you with a snarl as you convulse on him.  

He doesn’t let up and fucks you relentlessly with his fingers until you are coming and moaning his name. Incoherent expletives escape you while you soak him.   

You ride the wave of pleasure for as long as you can. It has been too long since you had fucked around with someone. However, no one had ever so masterfully gotten you off with just their fingers. The way he handled your body and worshiped you with his mouth was intoxicating. 

As you come down from your high he slides his wet fingers from inside you and pulls his mouth away with a final ravenous kiss on your swollen lips. He places a kiss on top of your head and pulls you in close for an embrace. The hard protrusion against your body makes itself painfully known.   

Joel presses his forehead against yours as he works to unzip his jeans and free himself. His fingers are wet with your slick. He smirks at you as his hand glides over his swollen cock and rubs your wetness all over his length. His breathing shallows as he strokes himself with one hand and braces his body on the countertop with the other. His swollen head grazes your belly with each thrust into his fist. 

You watch him wantonly as he palms himself with more vigor. Joel’s cock is thick and intimidating, but you crave it in the worst way. It is by far the largest you have ever seen. It glistens in your slick and the precum that was beading at the head. A desire builds inside you and you yearn for more of Joel. Want him in your hands, your mouth, your cunt.  

“Let me, please?” your voice comes out barely above a whisper. His hand slows and comes to a stop. He stretches out his arms to hold him up against the counter as he hovers above you and lets you take over. 

You reach out and grab on to him. You marvel at its size and how weighty it feels in your hands as you start to rub them up and down. His skin is hot and velvety smooth and pulled tightly. Your pace is much slower but more precise. You feel the veins bulge under your grasp as your fingers glide up and down his length.  

A moan hitches in his throat as you rub your thumb over his sensitive tip. You do it again and again. Teasing Joel Miller feels dangerous. You can feel how ragged he is and how close he is to coming. You want to make him come undone.  

“God, damn it.” Joel grunts under his breath. He peels back your hand and painfully pulls it off of him. His cock twitches at the loss of your touch. He stands up straight and towers over you as you shrink back.  

“Get on your knees.” He commands with his hand firmly on your wrist as he pulls your face closer to his. It sends a shiver through your body and you oblige. Any warmth in his eyes has been lost and he is staring at you; dark and menacing. He throws your wrist away and grips his hand along the side of your neck. His touch is rough and urgent. His fingers snake around to the back of your neck as he pulls you closer to him while you drop down. They twist into your hair and he has a hold on the back of your head. It doesn’t hurt, but his grasp is firm and might if you tried to fight it.  

He takes his cock back in his grasp with his other hand and pumps it. His movements are jerky and his breathing is labored. You can tell he is so close. He roughly pulls your head back by your hair to look up at him.

“You gonna’ finish what you started?” he asks with darkened eyes. “Then open up.” He commands you through clenched teeth. 

You respond with an uncontainable smirk. You part your mouth slowly and let your tongue hang out, never taking your eyes off his. You sit back onto your knees so that you are slightly under him and wait patiently. He widens his stance. His hand slides to the top of your head and tangles in your hair. You can feel him slowly starting to lose control and come undone before you while he strokes himself. You brace yourself, hooking your fingers into the back of his thighs and clawing at his jeans. You can smell his sex and feel his heat but he holds you just out of reach and makes you wait while your thirst grows. 

Finally he taps the head of his weighty cock against your tongue and you lick at his slit, sending him over the edge. He groans as his thick spend coats your tongue and drips messily onto your chin. You close your mouth around him as he begins to stall out and swallow, pulling the final drops of cum from him while you choke his cock with your mouth. 

“Good girl.” He rasps at you. “So fucking good.” His grip on you loosens and he tenderly drags his hand along your jawline. You relax your mouth and let him slide himself out. He groans when your tongue licks the underside of him as he pulls out. 

He thumbs over some of his mess that falls out of your mouth and curls his thumb over your bottom lip. You lick him clean and he moves to hold your face in his hands while you look up at him.

“My good girl.” His words shoot straight to your core and make you weak. He brushes your hair behind your ear and helps you up. He places another kiss on your head and wraps his arms around you. His hot and heavy body feels so good against yours. You tilt your head up and press your mouth into him one more time.

“Are we even now?” you joke. Joel smiles. Everything about him feels warmer. He peels himself away from you and steps back, leaning against the island. You adjust your clothes and zip yourself back up while he does the same.

“Actually… think I might owe you now.” Joel says with a playful tone. He crosses his arms in front of his chest and shakes his head at you like he can’t believe his predicament. You like the idea of Joel owing you. 

–

You don’t spend the night. He offers to walk you home but you opt to go alone. It felt good to get some fresh air, to clear your head and recap the night. You also wanted to leave him wanting more.

You weren’t sure what would come from this situation with Joel, but you knew you barely scratched the surface with him. He was rough around the edges but you liked that about him. You liked that a lot. 

END CHAPTER

(Part 2!)

A/N: More to come! Undecided how many chapters but I have quite a bit mapped out. Please be kind. This is my first fic and it is nerve wrecking to post! If you loved it, PLEASE let me know. I'd love to know your thoughts so far! What did you like? What do you want more of? How much angst can your heart take? I aim to test it in future chapters. Comments/Reblogs are appreciated so much. Thank you all

Also special thanks to @magpiepills for the lovely cover photo (and her mood board inspirations she helped with along the way!) and to both her and @legendary-pink-dot for reading my first draft and giving their feedback AND courage to post this.

If you wish to know when I post the next chapter, please follow @ArcaneFoxFics and turn on notifications!

If you are here for my gifs only and are like WTF I dont want to see this mature content... you can follow me over at @ArcaneFoxGifs which will ONLY be reposts of my gif sets.

Love to my friends who give me the courage and support to do all the things @magpiepillsjunior @legendary-pink-dot @exquisiteserotonin @youandmeand5bucks @redhotkitchen @sparklefarts38 @pink-whiskey-woman @for-a-longlongtime @secretelephanttattoo

[dranna]

You are a beautiful piece of art

Severus Snape x artist reader

Summary: “But you are so beautiful love” - “No I’m not. And we both know that. You’re just .. you're just too skilled of an artist, that’s all.” - That didn’t sit well with you at all. You were determined to show him how wrong he is.

Contents: established relationship, artist reader, fluff, angst, Severus just feeling unworthy of love and affection, gender neutral reader, any pronouns

Nsfw warnings: dom/sub, sub!severus, top!reader, praise kink, sir kink(?), neck fetish, no intercourse, gentle dom

a/n: this is the second, and very first Snape smut I’ve written, so I hope you’ll enjoy!

@giosnape thank you for the encouragement your perverted soul and the betaing! Also let me know if you would like to be tagged:)

~ English is still not my first language ~

“But you are so beautiful love”

“No I’m not. And we both know that. You’re just .. you're just too skilled of an artist, that’s all.” - Severus mumbled into his pillow, turning the other way. You two were laying in your shared bed, shielded by pillows and blankets from the outside world, deep in Snape’s private chambers.

The castle finally became deserted and calm after being submitted to many busy student’s feet during the day. A new school term started after all! You know well what it meant for your lover: overworked, plus hours, less sleep, naughty-uninterested children and maybe the worst of all, that deep rooted hostility and hate towards the potions master.

It won’t do at all. You thought, as you turned your head to look at the slim figure of your prince. He always talked about his appearance with such displeasure that it broke your heart. As your eyes traveled along the lines of his form, you saw no monstrosity that he usually describes. In the dim light of the candles, he appeared flawless in your gaze. Long, shiny dark hair, his pale scar filled skin, now covered by the blanket, that tells a story of survival and strength and his features that you couldn’t see now, were all a skillfully created art piece.

You turned your head to the other side, looking at a little writing table which stood in front of one of the two windows. There were many books, pergaments, quills and bottles neatly organized on its surface, apart from two objects. It was your quill and a pergamen you drew on. They were out of place among the neatly organised things on this neatly organised table .

Your pergamen depicted Severus the way you saw him. His sharp features are drawn with a fluid line, long amber hair giving them a living frame and dark eyes shining in the warm light you created. You mixed many shades together, creating a vibrant portrait of the usually grumpy potions master.

He walked in while you did the finishing touches of his portrait. You heard his rhythmic steps halt to a stop right behind you. You didn’t hear any sign of movement from him after that, so you stole a look at him.

There he stood, froze in place and time, mouth slightly open as he stared at his portrait made by your hands. He's never seen himself in a more beautiful light. You illustrated his features perfectly, yet when he looked at your art it wasn’t the same face he saw in the mirror.

Yours were a shining star, illuminated with a pure light from within, which sparkled through the nebulas of his eyes and landed him a handsome complexion.

However, when he saw his own image, there were no stars, no light, no beauty. Only a dry desert under the cold void without any trace of charm, suffocating under an invisible force.

“You don’t like it?” - you hesitantly broke the silence.

“I do! It’s just .. so beauteous.” - he whispered into the silence that sat between you two, still looking at your drawing.

“It looks like that, because this is how I see you dear.”

“What?!”

Your words shook him from his trans, now baring his dark eyes into yours. You read uncertainty, and a huge chunk of hope but most permanently disbelieve in them. As he stood there before you, something passionate burned behind his eyes. But before you could utter any other words, he shut them, watered them down so they couldn’t penetrate through the endless sky of his eyes.

“You can’t possibly mean that.”

“Yes I do!” - now you stood up fully to animate how much you meant your words. -“ I think you are the prettiest in the world.”

You tried to reason with him, explain that he is indeed handsome and not at all disgusting, but to no avail. He shut the burning flames of him deep inside and you saw it was a lost battle on your side.

This cat-mouse dance went on all day, until the evening scene we saw at the beginning.

As you laid there you made up your mind. This won’t do. You thought a thousandth time since that afternoon. You looked at him again. He wasn’t sleeping. You could tell by the posture of his shoulders and tense muscles under his nightgown. He was thinking.

You pulled yourself up, gently bringing your arm around his slim shoulders, caressing his arms while hinting a few kisses on his neck. You loved his neck so much. Most of the time hidden under layers of clothing, the skin is extremely delicate there. So pale, and showing his purple and red veins pulsating under, racing with each other at your touch. His Adam apple sticking out so much, the slightest movement visible.

He immediately leaned into your touch, a relieved sigh leaving his lungs. You gently pulled him towards you, so now he was laying on his back. Sky-dark eyes bore into yours, blinking in the dim light. Oh god, he was so so gorgeous! Sheepishly looking up at you, already blushing and you haven’t even done anything. There were many aspects you loved about him, you couldn’t even list your favourite, but him becoming a shy, flushed mess at the littlest of praise was in your top five.

You continued to attack his neck with kisses, while you slowly removed his nightgown.

Then you looked down. His usually cold, calculated eyes now burned with a passion, mirroring the flames of the candles in the room. His breath started to become uneven and his pale skin, like an untouched canvas, started to bare your brushworks. Reddening flames formed in his chest and burned the path all the way up his neck, cheeks and ears.

“You are beautiful, Severus.” - his lips opened immediately to disagree, but you sealed them with your own, slowly savouring him. You started to run your fingers along the curves of his chest, lighting fires in his skin along the way. Little whimpers began to escape from his mouth, silently pleading for more.

“Look at you Sev. You look so pretty whimpering below me” - you leaned down, whispering into his ears. You started to play with his obsidian hair, laying his locks on his chest and shoulders and running your fingers through them. “Say that you are pretty and I’ll touch you.” - you said, looking him straight into the eyes.

“N-no, I mean—“

“Just say the words Severus, and I’ll give you what you need. You need to be touched don’t you? “

“Yes s-sir.” - he managed to say out loud between his little whining nosies, moving desperately beneath you.

“Then be a good boy, and tell me how pretty you are.”

Ah those words again! Your praises set his insides on fire and freeing hundreds of butterflies in his chest all at once. The power you held over him scared him at first, but now it was his safety net. He could do anything and make any noise, he knew you wouldn’t mock him. You needed to say only a word and he would be on his knees in front of you, as if praying before his god. And now again, calling him a ‘good boy’ even though he didn’t deserve it, how would he have the strength to deny your order?

“I-I’m p-prett-y.”

“Yes, that’s my good boy.” - you purred, as your hands started to work on his slender form. Fingers pulled and twisted sensitive nipples and lips showered soft scars with kisses. - “ You deserve this, Severus. You are so delicate, my handsome prince. “ - and he lost it. He sank deeper and deeper into that velvety bliss, leaving himself fully at your care. His loud moans filled the room with a few desperate ‘please’s. His whole body and mind gave into the pleasure, dancing and following your touch. His hips found those one rhythm, moving skippin up and down, making his hard member bouncing on his belly.

“Tell me how beautiful you are and I’ll touch you where you most need it, love.”

“I-I’m b-beaut-tiful-l.”

“And how beautiful, hm? The most beautiful boy. Say it aloud.” - you ordered again, making his moans more high pitched. - “The-e m-most ,ah!, b-beau-utiful!” - he managed to say between sighs, blushing into a deeper shade of red.

“Good boy, always doing your best for me.” - as your praise left your lips, you started to work your hand up and down his member. Slowly you moved your palm, giving extra attention to the tip. The sounds which escape from Snape are so close to anguish. If not for the begging, you’d think he is in pain. - “Don't stop... pl- ah! Please... more..." - mouth hangd open, as he moaned and screamed his pleas. He tried to hide his face with his arms, but you prevented it with your free hand.

“No, you can’t hide. You’ll look at me and let me see that gorgeous face of yours.” - he tried to fulfill your wish while his head sank deeper into the pillows, struggling to stop his eyes rolling back into his skull. His whole body was shaking at this point, hips desperately meeting your movements in mid-air while tears mixed with sweat on his face.

He looked so pathetic as he was struggling against your touches. Both flying him to heaven and leaving him without release. You adored that only you could push him into this state. So pathetic yet so beautiful still, gladly burning between the flames you created. -“Pleasepleasepleaseplease..”

“I don’t understand what you want if you don't use your words.”

“I nee- hmm, need to-to cum..”

“I want to hear you say that you are stunning. Then I’ll let you cum.”

“No s-sir ahh-I —“

“We can continue this all night, but you aren’t allowed to cum, until I hear those words from your pretty lips.” - and you cruelly pumped your hand faster all the way of his length, never stopping or slowing down. You watched as he fell apart, panting, crying and groaning oh so beautifully. As his pleasure took over, all the gates in his mind broke, freeing and waking him from a long slumber. He couldn’t take it anymore, he needed release so badly!

“Ah-I’m-h s-stunni-ing!”

“Yes, you are stunning my love. Now cum for me, pretty boy.” - and he did with his full body, muscles tightened as more pleasure washed over him, hips bucking high up above the bed to thrust deeper into your hand, eyes rolling back deep into his skull. He moaned so loudly it could’ve been in a pornfilm.

He was floating in ecstasy as he felt your light touch, gently cleaning him and covering his form with the warm blanket. You crawled under the blanket, pulling him into a tender hug.

“Will you believe me now, when I say I see you as a magnificent prince?”

“Hmmm, maybe”

You two chuckled and continued to cuddle behind the shield of pillows deep in Snape’s private chambers. The whole school will be in shock tomorrow, seeing the-usually-very-grumpy-potions master shining with glee.

[ineylesian]

— INHERITENLY UNJUST DESTINY

AVENTURINE X READER

AO3 | NAVIGATION

WORD COUNT — 900

WARNINGS — slight 2.1 spoilers, lowk angst, word vomit about aventurine’s lack of self esteem, sappy unconditional positive regard, handsy aven bc he’s touch starved, preesetablished relationship

SUMMARY — aventurine does not understand the twist of fate that allows him to stand beside you.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — the lack of official aventurine art is making me gnaw at the bars of my enclosure, sloppy headers for now!!

Aventurine isn’t sure how to feel. 

The low hues of noon cast a gentle light upon his gloves, giving light to the sea of shattered stones that lie in his grasp. A sea of dazzling green, torn and fragmented beyond repair.

He’s sure he sees it now, a reflection of the wildly wretched life he’s lived sitting in the palms of his hands. The remnants of the only control he’s managed to retain in his life frail as dust in the winds. SIlent he remains, still as a pound dog that has had its bone ripped away from it. 

It isn’t until he feels the ghost of your hands along his own that Aventurine realizes his heart is racing. You spin him to face you, and his heart lurches at the worry that etches itself upon your features. He fights with narratives in his head that play games of fallacies, yet the scorch of his devotion to you leaves his tongue tied.

Facades are a game that come like second nature to Aventurine, but he swears he will not do to you what he deems business in his schemes. Instead, he pulls at what little honesty remains in the depths of his heart and his breath shutters. 

“Guess I’m back to where I was five years ago.”

The words come out quiet, too soft for his nature and simply small. It’s a confession that makes him wonder how many other pieces of his life will break apart until the whole is severed. There’s a fear that lingers within, bubbling to the surface as he attempts to withdraw from your hold.

Aventurine does not believe that his life holds any meaning with or without the cornerstone. Yet, that title made him seem as if he truly meant something, and without it, what little reign he held over his life disappeared. 

He believes you deserve fire, yet he is no more than an ember flickering on a stoked match. He cannot burn in flames bright enough to keep you.

Silently, he awaits your scold, the reprimand that deems him as worthless as he believes himself to be. A reminder that it was all but a stroke of luck that brought you to him, a trial that has run out as you see him for who he truly is, barren and scared.

His hands shake as you guide them to pour his shattered stone into the box at his feet. Shock etches itself upon his features, and he looks to you with nothing but raw, unparalleled fear as you speak. 

“You will always be the same to me.”

Aventurine does not understand the twist of fate that allows him to stand beside you. Single handedly, you vowed to peer into the wasteland that was his soul, and devoted yourself to his inherently unjust destiny. And, even as his life’s worth is ripped away from him, you love him unchanged.

An insatiable want carves at his soul like a day yearns for night, and Aventurine knows no other place to put his hands but around you in embrace. His hold is tight, as if he imagines that you will fade away if he abandons it. Yet, the weave of your fingers through his hair is enough to tell him that you’re no illusion, a sensation that will cease to disappear as long as he lives.

“Let me see you, Aven.”

Your words flow as lost prayers on the horizon do, and Aventurine retracts his grasp on you, allowing his knees to bring him to the ground. Your hands, gentle as streambeds in the spring, cup his face, running over spilt tears from keeled eyelashes. Instinctively, his hands latch onto your wrists, desperately chasing after your warmth and attempting to sear it into his skin.

Aventurine outwardly sighs as you run your fingers along his jaw, stopping to tuck a stray wisp of hair behind his ear. Although your gaze rocks with the deepest seas of adoration, the child deep within his heart beckons him to gamble with his luck once again. A risk that trails the faint quiver of his lips, as he would utter no such words to any other being in the entire cosmos.

“Will you kiss me?”

Wordlessly, you nod, and Aventurine closes his eyes. The soft touch of your lips quells the troubles that brew within, igniting fire against endless water. His hands fall to his lap, melting in the passion of your touch, and his heart craves to continue beating as if you are the oxygen that fills his lungs. 

He refuses to leave you until there is no air left for him to breathe. Gasping for the vitality of you that runs rampant through his veins, Aventurine tilts his head upward, and your heart flutters at the gentle smile that greets your gaze. Brilliant hues of purple and blue shimmer amidst the night, and his hold on you returns, hands moving to interlock themselves with your own. It’s the same gesture that holds you in the deep of dusk, never waning as lost prayers to the universe whisper behind closed doors. 

The words that follow are never far from you, spinning like soft woven silk that rests in your dreams when he’s away. Your eyes shut as he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth, spreading warmth to your cheeks that subdue the chills of frosted wind. In yearn, you wait, reveling in the soft fan of his breath over your skin.

“I love you.”

[theoneprecioustome]

Disconnected | Aikoto Thoughts

Someone at Atlus decided to gift us an opening dedicated to Aikoto and it's filled with gorgeous symbolism and foreshadowing, so I'm here to sing it the praises it deserves

Warning: This post will contain BIG spoilers for The Answer (Episode Aigis).

The opening starts with a blue butterfly which, in The Answer lore, is meant to symbolize Aigis' Papillon Heart. Meanwhile, Makoto is walking through a field of spider lilies which, in Japan, symbolize death and are believed to guide souls to the afterlife.

In other words: the opening starts with Aigis' heart chasing after Makoto, who has passed on 😭 But that's not all.

I love how they have Makoto heading towards a door engulfed in light, because it perfectly foreshadows the Desert of Doors. Makoto is gone and Aigis doesn't quite know what happened to him exactly, and the answer to that question lies behind the door that Aigis will eventually choose to open. So through Episode Aigis, Aigis is doing just that: chasing after Makoto.

This opening sequence is even built to reference Aigis' recurrent dream where she runs after Makoto's back but can never catch up to him. As such, even when the camera shows us Makoto's profile, we can't see his face.

After this, we see Aigis waking up from her dream, crying. She turns behind her, almost like she's hoping to see Makoto, but of course, he isn't there.

There's also a big contrast between the way Aigis' eye is drawn here and the way it's drawn in the P3R Opening. While the P3R opening emphasizes Aigis' robotic origins by showing the mechanisms therein, Disconnected does no such thing and instead emphasizes Aigis' human emotions in the form of her tears.

This contrast alone shows Aigis' development beautifully, but there's yet another contrast to be made. In the P3R opening, Aigis fell into a long sleep from which she would only awaken after feeling Makoto's presence on Yakushima. In Episode Aigis, we see her waking up and crying after losing him 😭

We momentarily leave Aigis to be shown SEES with an overlaid Fool card which ends up shattering. The SEES Social Link is represented by the Fool, so the card shattering at the end perfectly encapsulates how the bonds they forged in P3R are put to the test by the loss of their Leader, Makoto.

After this we get one of my favorite sequences in the Opening, because the way the lyrics are cleverly matched to the visuals is just too good.

Aigis' is shown running through the desert of doors—the desert that was drawn to the dorms because of her pain.

“時の狭間”はアイギスに起こったさまざまな変化と繋がった、いわばアイギス自身が原因となって生まれた空間である。 The ‘Abyss of Time’ is connected to the various changes that have occurred in Aigis, so it's a space that was created by Aigis herself, so to speak. Source: Persona 3 x Persona 4 World Analyze Book

She is, literally and figuratively, lost in that desert. In her own pain.

My heart fell and I can't find it, the lyrics say, and right after we're shown... Metis. The physical manifestation of Aigis' very own heart. She even pulls down her butterfly-shaped visor, symbolizing the mystery of her identity while simultaneously giving us the answer.

Aigis' key falls and so does Aigis, and here comes the heart and soul of the opening.

Makoto and Aigis juxtaposed just like in the Episode Aigis Key Art.

Just like in the key art, Makoto is looking at Aigis and smiling at her. Unlike the key art, here we can notice that Makoto is meant to be within the sea of souls. When Aigis parts her lips in surprise, bubbles of air come out, but there are none around Makoto.

This is quite literally Makoto's soul watching over Aigis, who feels like she's drowning without him 😭 She even looks lifeless until she notices him.

Aigis tries reaching out to him to no avail, just like in the movies.

But Makoto simply fades away, his smile being the last thing we see. The way they show Aigis' hand losing its strength felt like a kick to the heart 😭

As someone on Twitter pointed out, to make this even more painful, Makoto is smiling fully, looking happy and at peace. But since Aigis is looking at him upside down, his expression is less clear to her, to the point that it could even pass for a frown.

This ambiguity once again highlights that since Aigis doesn't know nor understand what exactly happened to Makoto, she can't be at ease.

Then we're treated to another masterclass in symbolism. We see some of Makoto's life flash before our eyes; that fateful night Death was sealed inside him, followed by the moment he chose to meet his fate to protect his friends and the world. These two moments are shown within his Evoker, representing his duty. His fight.

The montage ends with Makoto's lasts moments—spent with Aigis with a peaceful smile on his face. The rooftop scene isn't shown within his Evoker though, but within Makoto's MP3 player. The one thing he never did without.

So within just a few frames, we get to see the beginning and end of Makoto's journey superimposed on his two most meaningful objects. The Evoker—his fight—which passes onto Aigis, and his MP3 Player—his heart—which is synchronized with Aigis' (as evidenced by she inheriting Orpheus), showing their last moments together.

I won't go into the sequence foreshadowing the Colosseum fights (and Erebus!), but it's worth mentioning that Metis' entrance is yet another nod to the fact that she is a part of Aigis. When we see Metis charge, we're clearly shown that there's no one but Fuuka behind her, yet Aigis appears behind her soon after as if she was always there.

After this, we get another shot that was masterfully synchronized with the lyrics.

I'm so numb, so lost without you.

And right as we hear that "you", Aigis summons Orpheus. Makoto's signature Persona, which comes straight from the sea within his soul.

Orpheus being there is proof that Makoto's soul is still connected to Aigis', that he has never left her, which is why he was shown earlier looking after her in the sea of souls. And as if to further draw that home, when Makoto fades into the sea of souls, they add a breaking shards effect.

The same effect that appears when Aigis summons Orpheus.

The opening then shows us a shot of the Empyrean Door, the door which shows the moment Aigis awakens to the Wild Card as well as Metis' own birth. As if on cue, we see the blue butterfly catch up to Aigis like a light in the dark, taking us full-circle to the beginning of the opening where the butterfly flies past Makoto's profile.

The opening ends with a single cherry blossom petal falling, a callback to the rooftop scene and to that last moment Makoto and Aigis spent together.

And also, an homage to the ending of the original The Answer, which also featured the cherry blossoms for a split second.

TL;DR The Opening not only beautifully foreshadows Metis' origins and Aigis' own journey through Episode Aigis, it also highlights the connection between Makoto's soul and Aigis' and the fact that he will never leave her.

And this is all without getting into the lyrics which make all of this even more heartbreaking 😭 as soon as the official lyrics drop I'll revisit this post to properly match everything!

[withonly-sweetheart]

To Keep an Angel

He fell from heaven into your arms, but he cannot stay. Perhaps if you hadn't acted so hastily, if you had waited a little longer, you could've been reunited...

a/n: OMG BASED OFF THE LOVELY ART IN THE BANNER?? MY AMAZINGLY TALENTED FRIEND @candlekiss SHE LITERALLY COOKED SO HARD IN THIS PIECE... I SWEAR... I LOVE HER SM I HOPE THIS BROUGHT JUSTICE TO UR HARD WORK AND DESERVED PRAISE <3333

tw: depictions of blood, vomiting, death but its nothing like too serious ykw i mean?

wc: 1.4k

it is part of his beauty.

this quality… of not truly being here.

dreamlike.

If you had blinked, you could’ve missed him that day, when you were simply lounging on your porch, and he was a flash of light, as if the sun had descended to visit you.

His lips had twisted in a pained grimace as he stumbled away when you tried to approach him, in awe of his opalescent eyes and flaming locks of hair. Blood stained the feathers of his wings, and although it was highly acceptable for you to freak out, you beckoned him inside.

You wondered if his existence was a secret, something to share with your dreams at night, for not a soul to hear. You did not tell anyone, because who would believe the hermit living at the top of the hill, overlooking the urban cities. 

Even so, it took a very long time to earn his trust. He would not allow you to touch his wings until you insisted that an infection would arise, and even then, he sat facing away from you, skin heating everywhere you brushed, as if he was not accustomed to a human touch.

“You are not betrothed?” he queried a few days later. “My understanding of maidens your age is that they rush to marry.”

“We’ve evolved past that, dear,” you said, muffling a laugh. “I have not yet found a man I wish to marry.”

“What do you wish for?” he asked in that soft, gentle way of his. Casual, like he’s comfortable around you now. “In a partner, I meant.”

“I suppose…” You ponder his question for many beats, a rhythm spelling out in your head. He tilts his head, awaiting your answer. You offer him a broad grin.

“I am going to marry someone who makes me feel like a poem.”

You saw the angel in the marble and carved him out, feeling what you couldn’t see. More and more of his arcane personality came to life under your soothing hands, under your care.

As days turned into weeks, you regarded him more and more as the same blood of yours, no different from you. His wings were absent in your mind, only coming alive at his occasional mumbles of stiff feathers. 

Behind his stoic facade, a mystery to you, there was a vulnerability, a silent plea for compassion.

You learned his name, enjoyed the flow of a different language on your tongue. He spoke of a world far beyond your comprehension, of realms where time flowed differently and the very fabric of reality was shaped by the dreams of beings older than the stars.

As you tended to his injured wing, a gradual transformation took place within him. The once-proud angel who fell into your life broken and bleeding, began to show glimpses of his true self – a being of light and shadow, of hope and despair.

“Must you go?” he had asked one day as you prepared to leave for your job in the city. He stood in front of you, dressed in a robe you found somewhere in heaps of clothes stuffed into your closet, lips a breath away.

“I will return,” you assured him, gaze flickering from his translucent, shining eyes to his shy, moist lips. You return back to your original thoughts, smiling. “This, I swear.”

“I will hold you to that,” he had replied, a youthful smile of his own lingering on his face. 

<><><><>

“You cannot keep an angel.”

The stars fall hopelessly to his words, to their bittersweet tang, the clouds parting for the golden ladder he stands in front of, through the night’s ghastly mist. His soul glows. He seems to be an ethereal being, the truest idea of his identity, with that coy, divine smile on his archangelic face.

“Must you leave?” you plead, grasping the loose tunic hiding the radiance of his skin, where your fingers grace the smooth, bare surface, warmth tingling from the regal shades of azure and violet draping his lean figure, dappling his face in shadows.

“We are, all of us, children of the heavens.” He twists to spare you a cursory glance, eyes holding the secrets of the universe, reflecting the cosmic dance of galaxies. The velvety darkness envelops him like a cloak, washing out the circles under his eyes. “You showed me the worth of my heart.”

You do not yet realize the torment you have caused, tugging him back, many times over. He has overstayed his welcome, somewhere he is not meant to be. He itches to fly, for the breeze to ruffle the feathery wings he is blessed with.

“But as you are bound to the earth, I am bound to the sky, forever and always,” he explains, voice tinged with sorrow, a harrowing melody on his lustrous tongue.

“I trusted the shelter of your wings.” Much to your dismay, he flinches at this, shifting to stand further from you, as if your presence pains him. The celestial breeze sways the warm hues of his aureate hair.

“You are, I think, an evening star,” he says softly, words carried by the wind. “The most fair of all.”

“That is untrue,” you sniffle, wiping your tears away, wishing there was an ocean to wash them away. A raging sea to drown it. Anything would be preferable over this heartbreak. 

“You are. Just as my heart will forever be wrapped in the most luxurious silk,” he sighs, pausing before adding, “and of course, your undying love.”

“Will I ever see you again?” You step away, the light burning your eyes, a memory forever in your mind, like strands of words spelling out a story. 

He does not look back, does not answer your question. It hangs between you, an ivory string connecting you both. You envision it attached to the small of his back, below his shoulder blades, unfurling in anticipation. 

It hurts you, of course, but you’ve had him far too long. He was, in the simplest way, never yours.

But you were always his. Always entranced by the childlike wonder he sparked in you when he allowed you to brush your fingers along his wings, absently fiddling with his mess of blond hair. 

If he were human, you could’ve kept him. Cherished him as you would a medal, or a trophy from a competition. But the ring resting above his head and the feathers that were born to ascend kept him away.

What must you do?

To keep an angel.

<><><><>

To keep an angel, you realize, you must summon him. How one summons an angel, you did not know, and forced yourself not to care. But there was an ache planted deep in your heart that only he could weed away, cleanse your turmoil.

The tremor of your fingers matches your racing heartbeat as you prepare to cast the spell that would summon the angel back to your side. The air crackles with dark energy, in its purest form as you chant the incantations, your voice a trembling whisper in the silence of the night.

As the final words leave your lips, a surge of power sweeps through the room, the very fabric of reality twisting and warping in response to your command, the cold winter months outside easily forgotten.

A voice as soft as summer rain. A smile like a breath of spring. This is what you wish to see in the portal between worlds, but you do not. Horror flashes across your lover’s eyes.

He reaches a hand out, wincing like the action hurts him. You can feel the planes of your dimensions tilting away from each other, quickly slipping through your curled fingers, pressed hard to your chest.

A sudden, sharp pain blooms across your stomach, forcing you to keen over. Black splatters across the floor, coating your tongue and lips in a foul substance. And you split away, stepping back suddenly, but your body stills.

Your body, cold and gone, just like that, lying limp on the ground. 

Your angel kneels beside you, his touch gentle as he cradles your lifeless form in his arms. Tears glisten in his eyes as he gazes down at you, lost in his thoughts. He does not hear you shouting his name.

When you stagger towards him, confused, you are stopped. There is a wall between you both now, watching him as though he is encased in a gilded cage, wings spread to soar, the most majestic of songbirds.

Your touch, never felt.

Your voice, never heard.

Your eyes, empty.

You are forever separated, your souls destined to wander in different realms, never to be reunited in this life or the next.

And you will never return.

[highlordofkrypton]

“You are not Atlantis, and Arthur  is not a threat. I am.”

- Queen Atlanna (with Prince Orm)

Commission by @ywnoart Based on the first chapter of The Lighthouse on AO3

I love the way this art turned out, omg!! It's everything I dreamed of and more 💕 Below the cut, you'll find the piece of writing that inspired this commission!

This place is suffocating.

Though there is no air, she craves the crisp feeling of it in her lungs and the warmth of the sun against her face. The surface—the surface is what she longs for with its simple pleasures and its anonymity. She looks upon the great city of Atlantis, dreaming of a little lighthouse in a small town. She grew up here, and yet, this place has become her prison.

I should have been Queen.

Her eyes flutter shut. Images flood her mind of a happy little boy whose heart is bigger than his body, and of a man who’s tender eyes always see right through her. They are so different from her with their sun-loved skin of deep ochre and bright, bright smiles it’s almost blinding. At first, Atlanna could not believe a boy like Arthur could come from her.

I want to be anywhere else, she laments quietly to herself, but she does not cry. Tears and sorrow are beneath her.

A tiny cry cuts through her thoughts. She spares not a second, gathering the little bundle out of his coddling clam and holding him close. Atlanna hushes the child, a perfect blonde baby—her little fry. He quiets at her touch, his blue eyes opening to look at her. He smiles, blowing happy little bubbles at the sight of her. He is so small and so innocent; he is the only thing that makes her happy here.

But if he stays here, he will not know happiness.

Neither of them will.

It happens in a split second; Atlanna tucks her son against her chest and wraps him tightly with supple fabrics. He will not fit beneath her armour, but she will die before letting any harm come to him. She returned to this place in hopes of protecting those she loved, and she had not wanted another child. She had wanted no offspring for the Kingdom was her child. She had plans to nurture it and help her people flourish. Her presence here meant Arthur would be safe, but who would protect this little one?

Atlanna has had enough.

She has had enough of her husband’s ambition and his betrayal.

She has had enough of the roiling feelings in her chest. 

“Your Highness, what are you doing?”

“You know exactly what I am doing, Vulko.”

The High Councillor has been with her since she was born, and now, he has lived to see the birth of her sons. Both of them. His expression is grave as he watches her prepare, but he does not stop her. He never will, for the heart and soul of Atlantis has always been with her. He raised her to be the Queen she always dreamed of being, one that ruled with no male by her side, but he could not sway her father’s hand. Ever since the marriage, he atones for being unable to save her from this lesser life. The bruises Orvax leaves on her skin are his trespasses as much as they are his King’s.

“He will not let you take his son.”

“My son. Orm is my son, just as much as Arthur is, and I will not let Orvax taint him!”

Vulko hangs his head, shaking it in thought. “Perhaps you should consider challenging him, for the sake of your children.” He has been encouraging it since the first time he noticed Orvax has been laying hands on her. “You are the stronger combattant.”

“And the Council?”

She breezes past the guards outside her room, knowing that Vulko would have them stand down. He follows closely behind her, speaking quietly. He motions for them to give them room.

“We will face the Council if it comes to that, but you have their favour. They know you, your Majesty.”

“Their favour? What good did their favour do when my husband went back on his word and took my crown in the name of tradition? I will not wait for him to change his mind, and I will not wait for someone to save me.”

Atlanna stops at the armory. She tips her head up, waiting for the doors to slide open and welcome her in. Nothing happens. She presses her fingers against the door, testing its integrity.

Access denied, speaks a robotic voice.

She tries again.

Access denied.

Her entire life has been spent in this palace exploring different rooms to her delight, yet now that she is grown, she is not trusted with sharp objects. Atlanna was born with a trident in her hand, and she would often pluck the crown off her father’s head when he held her. This is unacceptable. She bangs her fist against it, denting the door. Vulko cannot help her without compromising his alliance.

“Go,” she tells him. “Warn your king.”

It doesn’t occur to her to take Vulko with her. His place is here. He would rot on the surface. People like him—like her —were made for war. He can still save himself, but her life belongs to the little one curled against her chest with his little fists balled in errant strands of her pale hair.

“Atlanna,” her old friend starts, his voice rough with an unfamiliar emotion.

“Do not .”

Apologies are not his to give. She would refuse them anyway, so he might as well save his breath.

Vulko bows to her, one last time, and swims off to warn Orvax of his betrayal. It is his duty; his Queen has ordered it of him.

There is no hesitation in the way she swims through the halls of her childhood. Memories haunt her with every stride. Children playing—a little girl, and a little boy who could have been the love of her life instead of her greatest enemy—and laughing about dreams of princesses and karathens. She turns her back on the man he could have been, finally seeing Orvax for the king that he is. 

At the entrance of the throne room, the last statue of her youth stands, tall and proud with an old claymore of human making. The two of them had found it at the bottom of the North Sea and she had been so fascinated with its abnormally large blade. They had carried it together, snuck it back through the same pocket underneath the Gates, and hit it in a wreckage that only nobles could access, but none ever dared. Orvax had been proud to gift it to her upon their betrothal, a perfect addition to honour her statue—a perfect way to mark the end of their childish dreams.

Atlanna rips the weapon out of her coral-kissed hands, testing its weight. It fits her better now that she is older, wiser and angry enough to wield a dull blade against an enemy. Her rage will be her strength. She needs nothing more than that.

The throne room is a massive auditorium. Her people are welcome to attend any official rulings and its size accommodates not only for Atlanteans, but its neighbouring Kingdoms of the Wrights and the Bright Lights. She had stood upon the dais, thinking of all the good she could do with Orvax at her side. He had stood with her, dreaming just as loudly and just as fervently. When the crown had been within reach, when he had snatched it right from under her with laws and technicalities, she no longer bothered to visit this damned place.

“Atlanna,” Orvax purrs, floating towards her with his arms spread wide as if to welcome her home. “My darling son.”

She stops out of reach, just as his eyes flicker to her sword.

“Vulko informed me that you were going to run. Here, I thought he was overreacting.” 

Once more, he approaches her. Atlanna steps back. She is not here to posture, she is here to fight and there is no need to let him anywhere near them. 

“My love, come .” Anger simmers beneath his kind words. 

His hand darts out to grab her arm. Atlanna parries the attempt with the blade of her sword. It only serves to draw up mocking laughter.

“That blade is dull.”

She draws the blade quickly, adding pressure to it. Though it does not cut on its initial contact, by the time she has run the length of it against his offending palm, blood wafts in the water between them.

“But my intent is not. You will let me leave with my son and you will not follow.” The request is simple and clear, but her husband has made a habit of not listening. “Every guard, assassin or man you send after me will die with my name on their lips and their regrets for not pledging allegiance to me . Send an army and I will answer in kind.”

“Ha! You and what army? The surface dwellers?” Orvax’s lips curl. “Ever since my coronation, you have been a hook in my side. I am sick of it, Atlanna. You could have been a great Queen, but you insist on whoring around on the surface and raising that abomination . He will bring about our ruin.” When he tries to bridge the distance, to tower over her like he has done time and time again, Altanna points the tip of her claymore in the center of his chest, where his heart would have been, if he had one.

“If you are so curious, try me and find out.” Her voice does not waiver and her grip does not tire. Orm fusses against her, but her eyes do not leave Orvax as she runs a comforting hand through his soft hair. “You are not Atlantis, and he will is not a threat. I am.”

Orvax opens his mouth to speak and she shifts her aim towards his throat, the metal testing the yield of his skin.

“I am giving you one chance. You love Atlantis, as do I, but I have found something I love more. Leave me be. We will not disturb you.” 

In his eyes, Atlanna can see the anger and the pride. She knows he will not let her swim out of this Kingdom without a fight. She also knows that he will not raise his sword against her, not yet. She is too rational to justify such public violence, and he respects tradition too much to act without a public trial. He will chase her until the ends of the earth. What a shame.

“Go, but leave the boy.”

“No.”

“He is my heir.”

“And he is my son.” On that, she refuses to yield.

“You did not want him,” Orvax grits through his teeth.

“And I thought I wanted you. Things change, Orvax. If you come for him, or me, or anyone else in my family, whether it is here or on the surface, I will kill you. Slow. You are not a crown. You are made of flesh, bone and many soft things. You will not touch me again. Do you hear me?”

For a brief moment, fear flickers behind the King’s eyes. He hesitates, considering the merit of a fight.

“You are mine, Atlanna. The Widowhood gave you  to me.”

“I was never theirs to give.” The Queen turns to her former counselor. “Tell any guard you send after me that they will be slaughtered. Indiscriminately.”

“Do not command—”

Atlanna moves quickly, closing the distance between them. She shifts the sword’s trajectory, aiming the butt of the hilt towards his stomach. The feint works in her favour as he moves to block it. Her target was never something so obvious. She slams her forehead into his and a burst of blood clouds his face. She doesn’t dare wait for his retaliation; she swims as fast as she can.

“What are you doing?!” Orvax roars at his high counselor. “Go after her!”

“I am waiting for your command, your highness.” Is that not what Orvax wanted?

The delay of getting the orders to the soldiers gives Atlanna enough time to escape. The guards she encounters are reluctant to face their beloved princess turned hostage. No one speaks of Orvax’s firm hand, but they know. They always have.

This time, with her baby strapped against her chest, she does not look back.

Atlantis is not her home.

The journey from the Kingdom to Amnesty Bay is a long one. She can only ride her mighty shark so far before she sends it back on a journey back towards the only home it knows; she has no choice but to swim in  long and roundabout ways to preserve the safety of her family. Travelling by land is safer, but the shift in environment is too difficult for her little one who wails at the strange new sensations and the dry, dry air. 

“I know, my fry, I know,” she soothes, wading back into smaller bodies of water. Rivers and lakes are better, but they are not as accessible as she would like. There are brief periods where she has to travel by foot. Orm cries for the most part; she soaks him in birdbaths and forgotten kiddie pools. A family nearly calls the authorities on her. To them, she is a madwoman who has kidnapped a distressed child. 

With the lighthouse in view, Atlanna’s strength is renewed. She lights up and kisses the top of her son’s head.

“Look, we are home.”

[technically-a-kiwi]

Lol, imagine this : cosmic horror AU

The Noise would be the charismatic TV host of chaos, hosting his mysterious show, his public would be the souls of the damned, and his audience would be random people who watched TV at the wrong time and at the wrong place, they are the unsuspected victimes of The Noise's game, a game starting as simple challenges and slowly turning into psychological torture, he'd be narrating your moves like a sports narrator you hear on TV, if you survive those challenges, you'll go back to your life... But you'll never be the same... If you fail, you'll be part of The Noise's audience... forever. Ooooh this is so edgy I love it >:)

Appearance wise it'd just be Cosmic Noise in a less cartoony style with half of his face skin missing revealing a second row of teeth on top of his current teeth (you know like you see in children skull X rays) it's gross, it's creepy, I love it

As for Peppino he'd be the Great Primal Cosmic chef, creating every level of existence from his mighty pizza oven, and blessing humanity with the art of cooking and the Holy Book of Recipe. His words are of unmatched wisdom (and loudness) but are somehow of common comprehension, his presence is overwhelming and yet somehow comforting, he's so calm and so unstable at the same time, he creates in love and in wrath. Peppino is a contradicting deity and his authority is often challenged, his existence only been reduced to fairytales (so yeah basically Italian Arceus). Despite having an age beyond compression, his omnipotence and omniscience and his status as the Cosmic chef, he's one of the most human cosmic entity of them all, experiencing feelings like loneliness, stress and fear. He combats those feelings by cooking, pretty much being a workaholic, it kinda works but he's still pretty lonely.

Appearance wise he'd be cosmic pep in less cartoony style but absurdly huge, like no matter how you tilte your head up you'd only see the beginning of his collar at best, basically being like miss Bellum. And if somehow you manage to get around head level he'd cover his face with a pan, if you're mortal it's because you'd burn if you see his face and if not it's because he doesn't want you to see his disfigured face he got after a cosmic battle with The Noise. He'd be translucent, his body is marbled with scars of past fights, and his overall color palette would be a lot more cooler and darker with his apron and chef hat being the only bright thing on his body.

Yes it's absurd, yes Peppino is God in this AU, yes I made my favorite character into an OP being, yes I'm being a kid. It's meant to be edgy and it will.

Ohhhh but I see you from miles away "BuT wHaT aBoUt CoSmIc FaKe ???!?!!??!" I KNOW YOU WERE ABOUT TO SAY IT, KIWI SEES ALL 👁️👁️, well lucky for you, I may have an idea for our fav ticket stand

THE FAKER is a shapeless dark entity, with infinite amount of faker faces on its body, it hides itself inside a ticket stand where it waits for unsuspected victimes, if you go to the ticket stand and ask for a ticket, a voice will invite you inside, wether or not you accept the invitation, a hand will drag you inside, your body will slowly be assimilated, your mind shifts into one that isn't your own, you feel like you don't know who you are, you feel cold, but one thing is for sure, you have to be so big, strong and mighty to the point you'll rival the might of the Cosmic chef. So yeah basically here it's the thing who wants to be a god.

Okay I'm done with my trip, obviously it's not canon in anyway and it's just my inner kid (and idiot) expressing itself. It doesn't have much of any link with True cosmic, only vaguely taking some of its ideas and exaggerating them to make them sound creepy. I really love horror in general and since Cosmic Au is already absurd I just want to push it to the max and make it an edgy and angst mess. I'd probably design it someday but I already have so much to do ! You know what, to anyone who managed to read this far, I challenge you into drawing those characters using the description I wrote.

If this post gets some people interested maybe I'll do the rest of the cast...

Okay NOW I'm going back to work...

[the-90s-music-colosseum]

Round 2 Group A Match 1

expand for propaganda ↓ (wall of text warning)

Thom Yorke:

"what other musician has a five minute compilation of his moans on stage ? yeah? no one? i thought so. vote thom yorke for my well being"

"He wrote all I need. (sexiest song ever written)"

"He made out with BOTH of the Greenwood brothers (damn)"

"Three Radiohead albums are on the top 10 highest rated album of all time, therefore his cock is massive"

"Vote him please or I will cry - microwave anon"

"I actually do have a locket with his face in it. I wear it everywhere 🙂"

"He was too hot in his Pablo Honey era cant change my mind🗣️🗣️🗣️"

"I just love him so much. He's such a cutie I want to put him in my pocket and take him with me everywhere :)"

"He wrote Spectre (sexy)"

"https://youtu.be/0YuENQZTV0k?si=EM9dx5Ye0bX6Xa4a"

"He would never evade his taxes like SHAKIRA DID."

"I want to meet thom yorke in a a record store where our eyes meet for a split second and we each notice what section the other is looking through and although neither of us is brave enough to start a conversation with the other we go home and fall asleep dreaming of what might have happened if we had gotten up the courage to talk to that cute person in the store and get to know them. I need him so bad it’s appalling"

"He's really cool!! He has had great character development over the years too if you're into that sort of thing. He has a really beautiful soul"

"gotta support grampa"

"hws so fine i want to turn him into a keychain so i can dangle him from my purse & jingle him whenever km bored… i will breath on him until it fogs all over then wipe him with a cloth to keep him clean Like a pair of glasses"

"If he wins I will create the most beautiful victory art you could ever imagine. (My 6th grade graphic design class will finally come in handy)"

"he's got that disease steez hes a flotsam fairy, you can sling him around like those stretchy hands you get in the quarter machine, he'll get mad for a minute but its fine"

"https://pin.it/1v99xvI"

"https://pin.it/4nvY08s"

"Has the voice of an angel"

"I had a dream once that I saw him and Jonny Greenwood walking down the street. I walked up to them and told them how much Radiohead meant to me and asked Thom if he could sign my Pablo Honey CD I had on me for some reason and he pushed me into open traffic and I got hit by a car and died. Jonny laughed. 10/10 dream got killed by Thom Yorke"

"He made Let Down in 1997. Shakira could never"

Shakira:

"ITS SHAKIRA SHAKIRA. le lo lo le lo le??? guys come on. do u even care about latinas."

"Shakira is genuinely hotter than most people on earth, so."

"No one else sounds like Shakira. No one else moves like Shakira. (Whether you think that's a compliment or not is up to you.)"

""is anyone even voting for Shakira" ME. I AM."

"She gives me huge Stacy's mom vibe. Like I'd come over to my friend's house not to hang out with them but to talk to their mom about how her divorce makes her feel and so I volunteer to help around the house or anything she needs. I'll take the task of cleaning out the attic with the black widows I'll mow the lawn on a hot summer day so she can offer me a cold drink for my hard work. Sorry I got lost in thought but she was part of my lesbian awakening and I will not take any Shakira slander"

"Shakira literally made me a lesbian <3"

[insane-control-room]

Some things are meant to be remembered; for the right reasons.

i've posted this review on steam, but i think that i want to say it here, too.

Here is my review of the 'promotional' material (according to steam) Secrets of the Machine

What I liked: the art appeared to be a true return to form; the style had its original charm with updated lighting techniques and slightly better optimization than previous games in the Bendy series. The audio design was also nice, with good ambiance and nice composition.

And now, the jank.

The game handles reasonably well; but it is clearly slapdashed together and is missing important components. There is no starting menu. There are no loading screens; and it is very jarring. There are no options in the game menu - you cannot minimize the game, you cannot brighten the game, you cannot make the game run any better on your computer, and it is incredibly laggy. If you have a potato laptop? Nah, get out. No game for you. There are no subtitles that you can enable, and voices are very muffled. Additionally, the game is very dark, and as mentioned, you cannot adjust that in the settings of the game, nor in steam settings. You have to do so from your computer.

Controls are extremely janky, as you cannot run, you cannot jump, and there is no indication for interaction with any objects. There are no control settings for remapping, and you cannot even see which keys do what.

Puzzles are boring and confusing; with no guidance. There were no hints, no rhyme or reason. There was more puzzle in the BATIM chapter 1 demo release. This thing is very confusing, especially when you cannot see anything at all. You will spend a long time walking back and forth between two rooms, wondering how you can progress, because you've done everything you could: you smashed cutouts; you hit targets; you opened and closed hands; you found posters for future games, but nothing that could move forward the one you were playing at the time. If you look at the community page, you will see that most people simply spent their time clicking on the soup can dispenser to see how many cans they could get.

If you have epilepsy, nah get out. Oh? I didn't mention the flashing lights? Well the developers did not either. Not only did they not mention the flashing lights, not in the game nor in steam, but they included TWO car crashes without warning - one audio based, and another that was directed at players. This is not only rude, but it is dangerous. Warnings exist so that people can make educated choices whether or not to interact with content that may be sensitive to them. Warn people appropriately. This 'game' did not take any measure to protect its players. There are many instances of sudden loud noises, flashing lights, and jarring location switches (not to mention the car crashes).

The story was lacking, and has nothing to do with the puzzles that a player is faced with. It feels like three disjointed tracks, and none of them align, all of them crashing together in a discordant, unsatisfying, confusing mess. It brought in more new characters that had nothing to do with the original story nor interested players, and had content that went against previously established material. It was (as you can tell, from a writer's perspective) a bad story.

It was less of a demo, less of a playable trailer, more like a tech demo with a few morsels for fans to pick apart and wish there was more of, wish there was more effort put into, wish there was more love and care for them, the players who arguably were the foundation of this game. There were teasers for games that, honestly, lacked the soul that the very first game had, and here's a point to prove it: there was an easter egg that if you clicked something 414 times (very funny.) it would rise in the air and then fall down without further ado. In the game files, the name for that sound effect? Sting. Yeah. It did. Games are a collaborative work; between the creators and the players. Blatant disregard and flippancy towards half of the collaboration is not acceptable behavior. This is a development team that mocks those who once loved them most, those who poured over their coding and carefully crafted world to marvel at what they had made, and coaxed in others with the rich promise of a delightful story that anyone could engage with on any level. The spite the creators have shown for the individuals who, essentially, had given rise to their stature in the first place, is painful.

Finally, by the time that I got a chance to sit down and actually play the game- I personally could not. The developers, by constantly updating a clearly unfinished game, had made their final update - that of a wood board blocking the actual place where gameplay takes place. You cannot go to any of the places shown in the screenshots, because the game is locked on the opening area. I've seen many people complaining of it; hoping that they can play the game.

Now, in the fashion we've seen common of JDS, they have rescinded their terrible design choice - but without notifying players that it is now possible to play the game; without telling players that this was purposeful; without telling players anything aside from a big old screw you. It is entirely possible that the only reason they put the game back into a playable state was the torrent of negative reviews that spawned after their. interesting. choice. regardless, those who care about their playerbase would have informed those who complained that it was a temporary gesture for storytelling reasons. They, however, did not, and there are a multitude of reviews marking the game as unplayable.

No matter what, the bottom line is this: This is not okay.

I'm not sure how much more eloquently I can put the fact that I'm heartbroken. This game, unlike any other, shows how much scorn that a developer can have for their own fans and playerbase. I am glad that there are people who enjoyed it, but I wonder - what did you really like about it?

Is it the memories?

[666writingcafe]

An Interview With Simeon

Part Six

Question One: How do you feel right now?

A little tired, but otherwise okay.

Question Two: Would you rather live in the city or in the woods?

I find a lot more inspiration in the woods, plus there aren't nearly as many people. MC says that I'm an introvert because I get my energy from being alone, and I think they might be right. Not that there's anything wrong with groups of people; they just can be draining at times.

Question Three: Do you believe in soulmates?

Absolutely. But I don't believe in exclusivity. There are many types of soulmates, not just the romantic kind. Like, Luke and I are familial soulmates. I was meant to be his guardian, and he was meant to be my kid. *pauses* Don't tell Luke I said that. He hates it when I call him that.

Question Four: Who is the first person you call when you are happy or sad?

When I want to express good news, I call Raphael. He and I have grown fairly close since the war. But he's what I would call a fair-weather friend. He's made it clear that he doesn't want to hear about my struggles, and I've made peace with that. (So who do you call when you need to vent about something?) It depends on what it is. If I just want to gossip, then I reach out to Solomon, but if it's deeper and more existential, I call either MC or Mammon. MC is a great listener, and Mammon's been through a lot of the same things I have. Plus, he's actually willing to share his emotions with me, unlike a certain dark-haired demon I know.

Question Five: What makes you smile on bad days?

Luke and MC doing something together. They're quite cute.

Question Six: How would you feel if your daydreams became real?

In some ways, they already have. Unfortunately, I can't reveal much more than that, or I'd be in a lot of trouble.

Question Seven: What are you proud of right now?

I recently overcame a really bad case of writer's block.

Question Eight: What are you scared about not accomplishing in life?

Contentment.

Question Nine: What do you think about casual relationships and long-term relationships?

I think it's important to communicate those kind of boundaries upfront and check back in frequently to see if they need to change. Otherwise, the relationship isn't going to last, and one or both parties are going to be unhappy.

Question Ten: What do people say about you that you like?

Do you mind if I go on a bit of a tangent? (Does it pertain to the question?) Yes. (Then go ahead.) So, MC gives the best compliments. They have a way of looking deep inside someone's soul and saying what they need to hear. It can get very specific. (Give me an example.) MC once told me that the words I write rival the greatest pieces of art in the human world. They were reading a short story I wrote about nature, except nature was a metaphor for something--or rather, someone else. *pauses* Just thinking about it is making it hard for me to focus on this interview, and I'm sure you have more questions to ask, so we should move on.

Question Eleven: How would you define love?

What an...interesting question. *clears throat* I'd say love consumes you. You can feel it from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet, but its pull is strongest inside your heart. (Have you felt that way about someone before?) I feel that way about someone now, but to reveal who it is would cause an uproar. (Do they at least know how you feel?) Yes, and they've agreed to keep it private.

Question Twelve: How much value do you place on other people’s appreciation?

A lot more than I should. I'm not supposed to care too much about people's opinion of me, because my relationship with Father is suppose to supersede all of that.

Question Thirteen: Have you broken someone’s heart?

Yes.

Question Fourteen: What do you think about “love at first sight?”

I've seen it happen once. A bunch of us did, actually. (Was it during the initial exchange program?) *smiles* It was.

Question Fifteen: If you woke up tomorrow as a person of the opposite gender, what would you do?

The same stuff that I do now. I know, not very exciting. Technically, I could change my physical form to a person of the opposite gender if I wanted to. We only look this way as to not scare off humans. But I like my current appearance. I feel it matches how I feel on the inside.

Question Sixteen: What is the most ridiculous thing you have ever bought for yourself?

A 200 pack of glitter gel pens.

Question Seventeen: What was your last Doogle search?

As soon as I say it, you'll know exactly why I searched for it: "how to put out a magically-induced fire".

Question Eighteen: What do you think attracts people to you?

I'm able to appear calm and peaceful. It doesn't always reflect what I'm feeling, but that's a whole other story.

Question Nineteen: What color is your aura?

A light shade of baby blue.

Question Twenty: If the world ended tomorrow, would you survive?

With help, yes. If I was by myself, however...I don't think I'd last very long.

Question Twenty-One: If your house was on fire, what is the first thing you're grabbing?

Luke. Objects can be replaced. He can't.

Question Twenty-Two: If you could take your favorite celebrity on a date, where would you go?

They enjoy late-night picnics at the park. (You say that as though you've already been on a date with your favorite celebrity.) That's because I have. Several times, as a matter of fact. Although, their fame is subjective. They're not nearly as famous where they come from as they are here in the Devildom.

Question Twenty-Three: If you could shapeshift into an animal, which one would you be?

A human world Arctic fox.

Question Twenty-Four: If you could do anything without any judgment, what would you do right now?

It would require a hotel room with a magical lock on it, soundproof walls, and lots of...shall we say, supplies.

Question Twenty-Five: Do you easily get scared?

Not anymore. I used to, and then the war happened.

Question Twenty-Six: Can you keep a secret?

Can you? *awkward silence* (We should wrap this up.) Good idea.

Question Twenty-Seven: Have you ever felt tongue-tied on a date?

Yes.

Question Twenty-Eight: Can you spend a whole night awake?

I have many times before, and I probably will do many more times in the future.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch, @budbuddnbuddy

[factual-fantasy]

26 ASKS! THANKS EVERYONE! 🥰✨

Me too man. But my mental and physical health is kind'a tanking atm. I just don't have the energy to pick up a passion project of that scale right now..

If you're patient and stick around though, we're bound to see more of my FNAF security breach AU someday.. Once I can get on top of all this crap I'm dealing with-

I AM restingggg 😫 I haven't left my home for any significant amount of time for like 3 weeks- I cant rest any harder! XD

@beryl-shade

Google seems to suggest that an oreo cookie character already exists. "Prime Oreo Cookie" I believe..? :0

@solst1ce-sketches (In response to this post(?))

:DD Thank you! I'm glad you like him!! :}}

:}

(First repair guy) (Second repair guy)

They are different repair guys, and they both do not have a name.. 😔

@lobitowhiteeliaz

Not quite sure what you're asking.. so I'll just answer in multiple ways!

My favorite movies of all time are Pixars cars 1 and 3. I cannot watch either without crying 😭 they are my absolute favorites and I hold them very close to my soul 💖

Still to this day, even after all this time, Gravity Falls is my top favorite show. Despite all the cringe I made for it back in the day- it still holds up as my most beloved show I've ever drawn about.

As for fandom, like the people? I thiiiink the FNAF fandom was my favorite to interact with..? I remember a lot of interaction with the fans in general, which meant a lot to me :)

Bibi and Cici are just odd little critters XD though Bibi is very cat-like in nature and Cici is based on a mouse :0

I'm not sure how they feel about being dolls. I'd assume they don't really mind it! XD

Not sure what you mean but I assume you're right XDD

@something3706

Thank you! Though I don't take requests, sorry!

She is indeed a kid, but that's becuase all I had to go off of was her info picture and fanart I saw of her. For some reason a lot of art I saw of Sally depicted her as this total gremlin character that's always getting into trouble.

So I thought hey! Why not make it so she fell to "Earth" as a little tot and was raised by Poppy? In present day she could be like 13-15 and her chaotic energy would make sense and be fun to mess with!

Though after watching GTlive do a vid on the Halloween update, I realize that I wrote her personality completely wrong. Sooo I miiight need to rework her entire story and character- whoops! <XDD

Considering Sally is gonna need some restructuring, I'm not sure where Poppy stands atm-- <:DD

@fawncr33k

I saw your comment on a post that shows you now know the answer to this- but just to clarify it for everyone else!-

Octo and Seafoam are not gay, nor a couple. Seafoam's heart belongs to Blue Beauty! Him and Octo are just friends/brothers.

Also thank you! :DD I'm honored!

@neo-metalscottic (Post in question)

AAAA Thank you!! :DD I've very glad you like them! :D And I'm not sure how a meeting with the pirates and cowboys would go.. its funny though becuase a lot of Canned Tuna's design was copied from Canned Beans cookie. Even the name! So if they ever met maybe they'd have a stand off XDD

I haven't thought much about how the Captain would react.. maybe the Vegimals are something he just cant wrap his head around and chooses not to talk about it XDD

BUT CALICO JACK!! SEEING VEGIMALS BEFORE?? WHY HAVEN'T I THOUGHT OF THAT!! The Vegimals could be these huge fish creatures when they grow old! And Jack could have SEEN ONE/HEARD OF THEM BEFORE!! Why didn't I think of that?? XDD I'll have to draw something like that sometime!!

@yourstrulylightstar283

Thank you so much!! :D My favorite Donkey Kong game has to be the only one I've ever played, the original Donkey Kong Country!

I also loved Diddy Kong racing, though I see that it doesn't count <XD

@astaherussy

I've heard of Hazbin Hotel, and Helluva boss. I saw the Hazbin pilot ages ago and have seen some episodes of Helluva.. Though they're not really my taste.. <:/

@badlyblurry (Post in question)

:D Thank you! Now I didn't really do any proper research after the fact so I hope the Octonauts info is accurate! <XDD

THANK YOU!!! :DDD

@djh4l0v3rv3r

I think Poppy Playtime it pretty neat! Though I haven't seen a playthrough of chapter 3 yet so I haven't formed an opinion on the smiling critters. :0 Other than their smiles are WAY too big and creepy XDDD

Holy cow.. what a crazy read! I'm not much of a gamer myself but I have GOT to watch somebody play this! :00 Thank you for the info! :D

@raptor1312

WAIT THIS GAME WAS ON THE WII?? I was thinking it was a fangame made for PC??? Like on steam?? ITS A LEGIT RELEASE?? WHAT???

(Post in question)

It was sooooo much tedious coloringggg... 💀💀 Worth it tho XDD

(Post in question)

AAAA IM GLAD YOU NOTICED!! :DD

@shaziztrazh

AWWWW!! HOW COOL!! I love the mermaid approach!! :DD SO PREBBY!!! ✨🤩✨🥥✨

Also thank you so much!! :DDD

(Post in question)

XDD Turns out ditto is my spirit Pokémon-

@nunyabusiness459

AAAA I'm so glad you're interested in him! Uuuunfortunately,, looking back it seems the only artwork I have of Melvin is just a bunch of strange angst for no good reason-

So I'm afraid I don't really have any artwork to share,, and most of the story has already been told.. but this ask makes me want to come back to Melvin sometime! Maybe expand on his story more, or just draw him again in general!

So thank you for the ask/interest, perhaps we'll see more of Melvin someday! :D

[samodivaa]

Deny the truth,set my world on fire (Part 4)

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Winter Soldier x Reader)

Part 1⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ Part 2⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ Part 3 ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆* ┗━━━ ━━━┛ He knew that she was having an affair...she denies, but the love marks on her body are still there. She can't tell him the truth, it will break him - the Winter Soldier is indeed inside of him, fucking her at night and Bucky doesn't remember. ┏━━━ ━━━┓ Quotes - Pushkin, Fyodor Tyutchev, Dostoyevsky └── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Warnings - heavy ANGST, some fluff Words - 3000

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Song ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆Eventually

Did i cry from my own fic? Yes? ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

4 years ago Bucky’s triggers words were present more than anything, anyone else in his life. Beneath the sheet of gleaming snow, his human-self slept for decades, frozen in time. And everywhere he goes, it follows him; the past is always spreading ashes of memories : all of Winter’s footprints are effaced by her love, the waves of fury are at peace – she is his homeland shores, grounding his soul like an anchor. „Ah, my last love! Thou art both bliss and pain. And joy - and hopelessness-“ Bucky moves to sit next to her on the couch, putting an arm around her and pulls her in close until his head rests on her shoulder. „Doll, what are you quoting?“ he squints his eyes, quotes always brush against the edge of his curiosity, before taking a peek at her book. „My last love; Fyodor Tyutchev“ she proclaims, hardly attempting to hide her growing smirk. „Am I your last love?“ He drawls, a bit of sarcasm touching his tone, but he feels the seed of doubt embed in his heart at his own words echoes in his head. She just giggles, looking at him with glittering eyes, not moving from her comfortable repose. „Of course, Bucky“ She smiles and nods, before turning her gaze to the book once again, rolling the paper sheet between her fingers and gazing at it thoughtfully. „Read me more, I want to hear more“ he mumbles after completing an impressive yawn. He adjusts his position to get more comfortable on the couch as she continues to read, with his head on her lap. His soul is a wounded dove, it has a painful, longing call. A flying bird about to fall, that was poisoned, festered with the past…and now Bucky is surrendering in her embrace, and quietly drinks the healing rays of poem; of poetry - drinking mouthfuls from this healing light, her light – finally seeing the world bright and complete. "It is amazing what one ray of sunshine can do for a man!” ― Dostoyevsky 3 years ago „Snow, frost and sunshine ... Lovely morning! Yet you, dear love, its magic scorning, Are still abed ... Awake my sweet!“ Suddenly her voice sounds in the nothing of the night. Though no louder than falling snow, it cuts across the emptiness, so shocking in the endless silence that the words seem craved into his mind, crackle of emotions infuses the void of his soul after the nightmare. „Winter morning, Pushkin. Why do you always read me that when I have nightmares, doll?“ he feels an oppressive weight settling over him. „Because after a raging snowstorm, a lovely morning always follows, Bucky“ „Yeah, because you are the sunshine in my mornings“ He burbles out a delirious giggle as sweat streams down his face. Having her in his life is a kiss-inspired dream, he needs to touch her to make sure she is real. With his shoulders squared and his body tenses from the unknown reality, his hand gently outstretches to her face. She responds by inching impossibly closer into his palm with sliver of softness in her eyes. She is real.

2 years ago Nature is an artist as it strokes swiftly a winter wonderland. But now, wretches, every drop of blood — don't stain the innocent snow. The scene is set, exquisitely divine — snow always pluck the vibrating strings of Bucky's mind, but her voice is enough to make his worries melt away. Sometimes they talk of the past where еre any roamed or died. They talk of old times when Winter only meant death and not Christmas chimes. There is no wind to speak of, more an icy winter chill outside; because If he wants to overcome the whole world, he needs to overcome himself so they go for a walk to the park, snow crunching beneath their feet. Their hearts are not connected to each other through mutual understanding alone. They are, instead, linked deeply through the wounds of his past — hanging by a string, loosely holding him from collapsing. And she knows when thoughts are tossing him around, bathing in his blood — so she chooses to speak.

„I still remember that amazing moment. When you appeared before my sight. As though a brief and fleeting omen, Pure phantom in enchanting light.“

„Doll, I really think that you love Pushkin more than me“ „I remember reading him for the first time, it was so romantic“ „You are telling me that meeting me was not romantic?“ „Sometimes I just imagine meeting you in a café, far away from here - I imagine that nothing bad has happened to you, Bucky. Sometimes I wish you didn’t remember the past.“ And this is what Bucky learns now: that her love is an antidote to his worries, always, that stands within this otherness of the world, of nature — the beauty and the mystery of the Winter season, out in the fields or deep inside their favorite books at home — both those activities, her ideas; are re-dignifying his worst-stung soul. He doesn’t need to fight darkness. Bring the light, and darkness will disappear, she is his light. She uses his moment of distraction to move away and makes a small ball of snow and throws it right at his nose. „I was thinki-“ Bucky shouts as he wipes the snow from his face. She has the audacity to laugh as he removes the snow, and he decides to chase her. Bucky easily tackles her into the snow, putting his arm around her to make sure she wouldn't get hurt in the fall, faces very close together. „Now, this is romantic, Bucky“ He nodes his head, speechless still. To heal is to touch with love that which was previously touched by Hydra.

Present „How are you holding, Buck?“ „I’ve lived too long with the pain, I won’t know who am I without it“ „You still quote stuff just like you did with her, Buck. Why don’t you talk to her, she is still recovering I talked with her today“ „She doesn’t remember anything, I want her to move on“ his inquisitiveness nearly outweighed his reluctance to talking to Sam about it, attempting to simmer the flames of the protective nature over her. „She might remember, she needs time, Buck-“ Sam pressures him with a challenging look that he more than gladly returns. Bucky considers the proposal and the fact that Sam is giving him a guarded expression that seems so hopeful, followed by a slight nod of his head before speaking.

„The time I spend at Wakanda, with Shiru- I’ve decided to go with the procedure. I can’t trust my mind unless they restart my bra-“ „You can’t-“ Bucky rises from the chair and is halfway to the door of Sam’s house when he turns and says „Enough, Sam, please“

Bucky has fond a peace in nature which was irreplaceable once; he steps outside looking at the colorful sunset. The sun is out, but he is cold, eyes are wild, but the mind is asleep, the world is alive, but Bucky has dead. Nature is love, nature reminds him of her, but he is aloof of everything that screams live for today — he died the moment he woke up to her laying in the white sheets. ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Flowers will grow back after he stepped on then and maybe in a less miserable times they may see each other again — all his grief says the same things „this is not how it’s supposed to be“ and the world laughs and holds at his hope by the throat „but this is how it is“ The final turn is that. Oh, how strongly grabs them, the secret plot of fate and everywhere he goes, it follows him; the past is always spreading ashes of memories: all of Bucky’s footprints of love are effaced by Winter, the waves of fury are not at peace – no longer is there a homeland shore, no longer someone grounds his lost soul like an anchor.

The sadness won’t last forever, he won’t be able to remember it and for the last time Bucky goes to sleep so he could see her in his dreams for the last time – she taught him everything except to how to live without her – the present feels like the past. It’s a fitting punishment for a monster to want something so much, to hold it in his arms and know beyond a doubt that he never deserved it, that he ruined it – his soul bleeds and the blood steadily, silently, disturbingly slowly shallows him whole –  Bucky is too gone to be healed – he almost robbed her of her life. Now, she will carry the scars forever, but he selfishly remembers their love, there was love and it was theirs. Bucky was too deeply afraid to face her, that the moment their eyes meet and she finds herself staring at a stranger and he will realize that he has become a person she no longer recognizes – he stares at the poem she left for him, it makes him smile, because it reminded him of him and her; of what they used to do – James doesn’t want this to be the end of the chapter but it is – it’s the end of the line for love – nothing ever ends poetically he realizes end and his trust to poetry, it was not beautiful – it was just pain. He performs autopsies on their conversations long ago – he can to lie Sam, but he can’t lie to the hole deep inside – he lets himself cry, it’s better than feeling nothing at – wearing her shirt, because it’s still smells like her, but it will soon fade like his memories of her, of everything, erased forever. How can he live with a conscience that suffers whilst acknowledging his sin; with the memory of knowing she left this poem behind, thinking she would die from his own hands? ◤━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◥ I loved you; and perhaps I love you still, The flame, perhaps, is not extinguished; yet It burns so quietly within my soul, No longer should you feel distressed by it. Silently and hopelessly, I loved you, At times too jealous and at times too shy. God grant you find another who will love you As tenderly and truthfully as I. Your sincerely, your Doll ◣━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◢

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

„Excuse me for interrupting, but I just saw that you are reading `The Brothers Karamazov` and couldn’t resist coming to talk to you“ a calm voice cut through the silence. „Oh, I just wanted to reread it- you can sit with me“ She has a thoughtful look on her face, heart shattering into so many tiny fragments that it is hard to speak, it leaves her incredulously blinking when she sees his blue eyes eerily crystalline. She only heard about him in periodic whispers over the mouths, hearing about his recovery and adjustment to life all over again.   She never intended to stay long, but she does because it is peaceful and she is not in a rush to leave, but his presence is overwhelming, feeling the presence of eternal harmony, fully achieved just like before. „I need to go for work, it was nice meeting you“   She senses that she should be following a different path, a path where their lines don’t cross. It is too much, she can barely breathes. There is a furious discontent from a moment, which verged on loathing; for her to have all of her memories and for him to be just a stranger taking interest in her book. This inexhaustible fantasy of them meeting again, of them reading books again – she needs to get out here of here, but then Bucky speaks and it’s impossible to smash the idea of them being together into splinters and turn it to dust – his eyes are the ocean, all flows and connects when their eyes meet. „Wait, can I get your number?“ he whispers from beside her, worry clear on his face at her sudden urge to go. He continues to stare intently into her eyes, waiting for their gazes to meet again and he feels his heartbeat speeding up.  „Oh?“ Bucky almost chokes on the air as she turns around to face him, not responding with any words. She just furrows her eyebrows slightly. And it hurts so good that its Bucky’s own free unfettered choice to ask her, to come speak with her. „I want to buy you a book“ his blue eyes trail from her eyes, to her lips thinking about how gorgeous this girl is. She is not sure which is worse – the intense feeling of him being here, or the absence of his previous love for her. Maybe it will be worse if she doesn’t let herself be part of his new life. She is too afraid of giving herself to someone she might lose again, she is too afraid that Winter might come again. Her loyalty to his past, to keeping it a secret its want cost her the most and she needs to bare all of her sins all over again, to keep a secret. „You don’t want to take me on a date?“ she questions while watching him with an amused gaze. „Yeah, yeah – I want to do that, too“ he responses with uncertainty laced in his voice, trying to hide a nervous laugh between closed lips. “You will burn and you will burn out; you will be healed and come back again” „Is that a quote?“ he shrugged, looking startled. „Yeah, it’s from the book, James“ „How do you know my name?“ it is a tormenting thought that refuses to take shape, not even sure if he wants to know the explanation behind this. “I am a fool with a heart but no brains, and you are a fool with brains but no heart; and we’re both unhappy, and we both suffer” Her eyes get a little teary, but she's quick to put a lid on her emotions, it is overwhelming that he doesn’t remember any of her favorite quotes, of the quotes she used to tell him. „Where is that from?“ „Idiot“ „Excuse me?“ „The Idiot, Fyodor Dostoevsky“ she hesitatingly looks at him, he is already looking at her with those ocean blue orbits that hold so much kindness, curiosity, just as they used to. „Oh…that was clever, I will give you that“ he laughs to himself, shoulders shaking with humor. „And I will give you my number“ „Really?“ „No“ “We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken”

„That is from Crime and Punishment“ she purposely tries to add amusement to her voice, trying to appear as this has never happened before. She is frozen, words caught in her throat. „Yeah.“ He licks his bottom nervously. "O-okay, I will give you my number"

An invisible thread ties them together – the pull the drag deep inside beneath her skin, the heavy gravity of him. She loved him enough to spend forever waiting, no amount of time is ever enough and even one day if forever runs out, she will be fine, because it’s her decision waiting for Bucky, getting to love him all over again. To exist with him is her greatest privilege and pain – but he has settled into the depth of her soul because, she has found what she loves and it almost killed her – the thought of him forgetting her terrified her before, but it probably terrified him too before his mind was fully reset – she searches for quotes which remind her of them, but he probably did too. This time she is learning him slowly, taking her time; in no rush with her love – there are oceans in James’ eyes and when she looks at them, both emotions and memories hit me waves. Sometimes she wants to scream so loud that the ground trembles, there is so much fear and grief within her that she is decaying from the inside out and there is no one to help me but herself. She needs to stay silent, need to be here for him once again – she loved him and will love parts of him that are not easy to love, turning the pages gently and helping him re-write a happy ending to his narrative. She has loved none, but him and it cuts her soul a million times just to form a constellation to light his way home – angry and half in love with the new him and tremendously sorry for how it turned out for them – it’s not a metaphor, this ache, this fear of Winter all over – but all Bucky’s life was grey before meeting her one day at the café. He brushes up against pink and the barest touch and - the rest of his life is green again, green like Spring. He doesn’t know who he is and the cycle begins again – he pierces her soul ,she is half agony and half love – Bucky is too tangled there, finding his way back to her unknowingly.

And that’s how Bucky imagines it, meeting her all over again after his procedure - in a café, far away from here - he imagines that nothing bad has happened to her. Sometimes he wishes he was just Bucky, sometimes he wishes that the past has never happens - sorrow compresses his heart. His grief passes gradually into quiet tender joy of that daydream. Her memories never returned. Bucky’s memories were deleted successfully. They never met again. ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆Tag list⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ @dear-lolita @i-loveyoubutyourenotmine @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @montyrokz @sarah5462 @mooievis @almosttoopizza @midnightramyeoncravings @itsmadamehydra @ravenromanoff @beetlejuicesupremacy @queenashen @kandis-mom @whitexwolfxx310 @msoldier @venting402 @avery199 @pandabearrrrrrr @tilltheendofthelinepal13 @tokoyamisstuff @happinessinthebeing

“The most monstrous monster is the monster with noble feelings” ― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Eternal Husband

[tafferling]

Book Release: Aphelion, The City of a Billion Stolen Souls

Aphelion is a love letter. In incomplete one at that, which is still being written as I make my way through the series. But as each of its seasons is finished, a book gets released! And here we are! My first official 'omg I published something' novel: Aphelion, The City of a Billion Stolen Souls

If you like science-fantasy with soul-harnessing magic and tech, a cyberpunk (or aetherpunk, those two are having fisticuffs) flair, and a slow burn simmering away in the middle of a (mysterious) zombie apocalypse, then Aphelion may just be right for your bookshelf. Literally, because you can buy all of book one's 531 pages in gorgeous print!

What's in it?

In a world where tech runs off the concept of one's soul and where dragons steady cosmic scales, heroes are shaped in the shadow of an ancient grudge. Horizon's Crown was an Earther triumph; a stage at the frontier of the settled systems, a city of hope and dreams and infinite potential. Now, under the watchful eye of its orbital island, it straddles the line between dead and dying; a city of nightmares and endless sorrow. Varrett Vild Vickers belongs into a pilot's chair. He's meant to dodge asteroids, to race dragons, not chase credits so he can pay rent while HC's major demographic clicks its teeth at him and tries to eat his face off. But it's fine. Really. He copes. Or that's what he tells himself, all the way until a woman falls from the sky and turns his already upside-down life very sharply sideways. Armed with nothing but her worst-kept secret and a ledger of lies, Sophya Soulwright tricks her way into Horizon's Crown, looking for not only her sister, but for redemption and a meaning to a life she’s never held dear.  What she finds instead is a city trying its hardest to live, and a man who courts death every step of the way. He's infuriating, tireless, and after a glitch binds their souls together, he is now stuck with her. 

Don't want this chunky darling on your shelf and prefer to read it digitally? Dontchu worry, Taff has you covered. I release Aphelion as a free-to-read web serial, both on Campfire (where you can tip me if you like to get world building extras) and Archive of Our Own. 'cause like I said; Aphelion is a love letter. I just want to write it and share it.

But that doesn't mean I don't want to hear from you if you choose to give it a chance.

Where to find Aphelion:

On Amazon (531 pages, paperback).

On Goodreads (oh gosh I have an author profile there now).

On Campfire Explore (where, if you choose to tip, you may feel the sudden sensation of an ethereal cat slinking around your ankles in appreciation).

And on Archive Of Our Own (where it all started).

BIG BIG BIG thanks to @hermit-writes for her amazing typesetting skills (and book photography) and of course @drawinglinestoconstellations for the cover and interior art.

[yukidragon]

Sunny Day Jack - Infection AU Headcanons

Hey, have you seen the resurgence of the MLP creepypastas with infection AUs on twitter? I stumbled across this trend, and it gave me an itch to create an apocalyptic AU, but with characters who are already intended for an adult audience.

Yes, it’s another Something’s Wrong with Sunny Day Jack AU, and a very horror-themed one to boot. Yes, I also know that it’s pretty funny that this comes right after this super sugary sweet short story about Jack pleading for more cuddle time with his sunshine, doesn’t it?

What can I say? Sometimes I like to explore the horror side along with the romantic side of Sunny Day Jack.

Content Warnings: This post is going to get pretty graphic at times due to its central focus on body horror and biological infections. There will also be elements of psychological horror, violence, murder, yandere obsession, occult practices, acts of terrorism, and all the other warnings that apply to the main game. Also, one or more of our favorite characters might meet with an unfortunate fate. I’ll see if I can offset all the horror somewhat with some sweet and spicy stuff as well, since we all know Jack isn’t going to let a little lot of blood stop him from filling his sunshine with lots and lots of love.

Minors DNI!

It took me a while to consider how I wanted to go about the infection itself. Sure, I could stick with the tried and true zombie formula, but there’s way too many games that just tack on zombies as DLC without adding anything unique that ties to the original setting. It gets kind of repetitive after a while. I wanted something a little more interesting, perhaps a little more supernatural.

Then I remembered that there are times when Jack starts looking suspiciously like a zombie himself, especially when his bony finger is exposed. However, nowhere is his undead putrefaction clearer, than this heartbreaking picture posted on the SnaccPop Patreon. Even just the publicly posted teaser picture from twitter shows us that his body is rotting like a corpse.

Credit to Sauce for their gorgeous art. Remember, don’t share anything that’s posted privately for members only on the patreon. If you want to see the full picture in all its glorious heartache for yourself, why not consider joining to check it out? You’ll not only get access to exclusive art, but also audio dramas and many other delightful things. You’ll also be supporting the team and helping them to continue working on the games and other projects that give us so many fun stories to explore and enjoy.

The Diseased Lamb

The apocalypse I’ve crafted for this AU is more heavily based on the Sunshine in Hell continuity than the game itself, and it references a number of my previous headcanons. As such, I’ll be sticking with my version of the MC, Alice, for this AU, but I hope my ramble can inspire you with ideas for how to run your own MC through an apocalyptic scenario with the SDJ characters.

The horror of this AU, as it does with the game, all starts with the tape, or rather the incident that it recorded back in 1984, changing both it and the man who was murdered on that day into something no longer human.

LambsWork Productions is such a suspicious company, particularly with that name that feels like it’s implying that it’s creating sacrifices. It wasn’t just meant in a figurative sense, as the entertainment industry is full of cults. A homeless drifter picked up off the street would make for a perfect sacrifice for some profane ritual. No one would come looking for him, and those who knew him when he died could be silenced with an NDA… if they didn’t die as well, of course.

Joseph Cullman, who used the name of James Haberdae when taking the role of Sunny Day Jack, was just one of these poor souls that Lambswork sacrificed. He and so many others were to give, and give, and give so much of themselves, far more than they ever imagined that they would. They were drawn in deeper, convinced to participate in things that they didn’t quite understand, that felt not quite right, but… they could lose it all. They’ve already come so far, done so much. It’s a sunk-cost fallacy.

LambsWork Productions was a company up to some shady business, with connections to other not quite so savory business partners. They slipped subtle propaganda into their various shows aimed at so many different audiences. The 80’s was an era rife for turning kids shows into a 30 minute long television commercial at its most blatant. Much like how the Flintstones pushed cigarettes on kids in our world, and got their own line of multivitamins, even wholesome mascots could be used to push agendas, even unwittingly. (There’s a good Film Theory that talks about propaganda in the media if you’re interested in more about this topic.) The SunnyTime Crew weren’t just selling branded merch like cream pies, dolls, and lunchboxes, they were endorsing other unrelated products such as pharmaceuticals.

The incident of 1984 brought it all to an abrupt end. Maybe in the game’s universe it was an intentional thing, a sacrifice to accomplish something supernatural. Maybe it wasn’t part of a massive conspiracy, just a sudden murder that interrupted plans already in place that had unexpected consequences. Maybe the company was just shitty and had nothing to do with Jack being trapped in the tape for 40 years.

In this universe, it wasn’t an intentional machanation of LambsWork Productions, but the unforeseen results of so many it played a part in.

While I suspect Jack died of gunshot wounds in the game, as I mentioned in previous theories here and here, in this universe, it was the result of a terrorist attack. The SunnyTime Crew were mascots used to push a product that had… unfortunate results. People got sick, suffered horrible side-effects, even died. There were even rumors that a sickness was manufactured in a lab just so that particular product could be sold to cure it. Naturally, the actions of companies associated with LambsWork wasn’t the fault of the actors, but the SunnyTime Crew had inadvertently become the face of the brand. In the eyes of people resentful of a soulless company that victimized them, anyone who worked with them was seen as guilty.

For actors at LambsWork Productions, their days were long and started early. Often, they had to rely on the coffee, donuts, and other snacks in the breakroom instead of a proper meal.

No one realized the food and water had been spiked. Everyone was already pushing themselves hard, often forced to do their job and put on a bright smile for the public even when they were exhausted or sick. If they felt the urge to sneeze or cough, they had better hold it in until the cameras weren’t rolling.

Unfortunately, tried as he might, Jack couldn’t stop himself from coughing up blood in the middle of filming.

Although tempting, this isn’t the start of a zombie outbreak. It’s a deadly illness to be sure, but not one the terrorists intended to infect the children. This was to send a message to the company as well as serve as revenge to see these shiny “innocent” stars bleed and suffer like others had because of corporate greed.

Though it would be horrifying and tragic if this was a zombie outbreak and the SunnyTime Crew were the patient zeros. Mary would rush from the audience to her starlight’s side, holding onto him tight while yelling at someone to call an ambulance… Joseph moans out one final “Sunshine…” before an unnatural hunger overtakes him, and he tears out her throat with his teeth.

A temptingly dark image, but maybe we can save a zombie specific AU for another time. For this infection AU, things are a little bit more complicated than that, and a bit more sad. Joseph didn’t know what was happening to him, just that he was in pain. He had a terrible chill that burned his insides, his eyes growing watery with a red tint, and he couldn’t stop coughing. He didn’t even notice the blood at first leaking from his mouth and eyes until he heard the screams of the audience.

Mary ran to Joseph’s side as he collapsed to the floor. He tried to turn away from the audience to spare the children the sight, but wound up vomiting up blood all over the colorful studio set.

He wasn’t the only one, unfortunately. The rest of the SunnyTime Crew, even guest stars and members of the stagehands were unwell, but not nearly as bad as Joseph. As the star of the show, the terrorists wanted to make a statement with the gruesome death of Sunny Day Jack. They didn’t want someone as strong and healthy looking as him to survive, so he was especially targeted by tainted food and drink. Even his medication, makeup, and cigarettes were tampered with.

Mary tried her best to help Joseph. She was used to being sick. She helped make sure he wouldn’t choke on his own blood and did what she could to keep him breathing until the ambulance came, but his death came swift and gruesome. He died in her arms while she was still performing CPR on him, bathed in his blood and her tears, as the cameras continued to record their last “kiss.”

Mary died later in the hospital, just like in the regular universe, but much sooner, as she became infected as well. Although the illness wasn’t airborne, it could be transferred by bodily fluids. Though the terrorists only meant to target certain people for one specific incident, microorganisms can’t be simply shut off once they’re set loose.

The terrorists had wanted to make a statement using the very illness that they claimed was manufactured by isolating an especially dangerous strain in a lab and unleashing it publicly. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect they were going for. The exact events of that day were covered up, including the message that they were trying to send.  Instead, the negative side-effects that the original product resulted in were blamed on this new more deadly strain of the infection, and the pharmaceutical company eventually came up with a cure for that too… but not without more casualties.

Many of the terrorists did get arrested and quietly charged with domestic terrorism. In the end, the company they went to such extremes to expose for their crimes became the hero, and all they accomplished was giving them a villain to escape their own misdeeds.

Quietly, LambsWork Productions buried the SunnyTime Crew show and all traces of its memory to escape any bad press. It moved on to new shows, and new partnerships with the pharmaceutical company in the future, though the higher ups never used any of their characters to overtly endorse any unrelated brands again.

In the modern day, the illness that may have been created in a lab, but was made so much more deadly by terrorism is mostly a non-issue with the standard vaccines people get as they grow up. Few people think about it at all. The outbreak incident was a blip in history, with the show never being mentioned at all in association with it.

40 Years Later

The timeline of events plays out mostly the same from here, though perhaps with a few less survivors from the incident of 1984 in the modern day. Though it might not matter when the second incident unfolds.

In many supernatural stories where someone is unjustly murdered, the way they died plays a part in how their revival affects the world… or in this case infects.

The apocalypse started when a VHS tape was played, and Alice became patient zero.

Jack didn’t mean for it to happen. He only wanted to help his sunshine. She was already sick when he appeared. Not only was she suffering from chronic illness like in the regular universe, but she had caught the modern day version of the very infection that had killed both of them in the past. It was treatable in the present, and she was vaccinated, so she was just isolated at home with nothing to do but heal and distract herself from feeling so miserable and alone.

In this case, the curious and compelling VHS tape Alice bought from the thrift store became far more of a distraction than she could have ever imagined.

Jack appeared when Alice was at her most vulnerable and took care of her. The longer they spent together, the better she felt. Her symptoms faded, and his company was surprisingly comfortable, familiar. It was almost nostalgic, like someone had taken care of her like he did long ago…

Alice wasn’t cured, she was asymptomatic. The infection had been altered supernaturally to make her better, but it became something else, something beyond the capabilities of modern medicine. Its change was influenced by Jack’s fears - his fear of the cold, sleepless hell he had been damned to, the fear of the decades loneliness and the endless cycle of pain, and most of all the fear of losing his sunshine.

Understandably, a patient zero is the last person you want working in the food service industry. Worse, a heatwave had struck Texas, sending a lot of customers to Yogurtopia for a cold and tasty treat. Having to deal with so many people distracted Alice from Jack and left him feeling a little lonely… and increasingly afraid that all of these people might make her forget him.

Symptoms

Unlike the infection 40+ years prior, this supernatural affliction spread slowly, the vector not from body fluids but being in the infected’s presence, seeing and hearing them in close proximity. Touching them directly spread it so much faster. In the initial stages it led to nightmares, an increasing sense of paranoia, and a cold prickling pain not unlike the staticy feeling one got after a part of their body fell to sleep, especially focused on the face and hands. This feeling would steadily spread to other parts of the body as the infection got worse.

The progression led to hallucinations, voices that whispered one’s own deepest fears, which led to an increase in depression. The infected grew to have difficulty sleeping, but when they did they only experienced nightmares. The only thing that alleviated symptoms was physical touch with another person that they felt affection/desire towards, but this in turn would spread the infection.

The psychological effects worsened as symptoms progressed, creating an increased sense of paranoia that they were being haunted, but also that this entity was erasing their existence from everyone who knew them, which led to fears about being alone and forgotten. In a sense, the virus was turning people into yanderes, desperate for human connection.

There were visual hallucinations as well, which started as shadows and colors at the corners of their eyes, an entity constantly stalking them. As the infection progressed the hallucinations became more vivid, turning into distorted inhuman figures with protruding bones coming from rotting strips of skin, and other such horrific images.

The infected changed physically too. Their blood took on a strange blue tinge to it and a hint of green. The colors became more prominently distinct and clearly unnatural in later stages of infection, creating an RGB effect as it leaked from the wounds, eyes, and mouth. Between the discomfort underneath the skin and psychological paranoia, patients usually scratched themselves until they bled, especially around the face and hands. Some even clawed their own eyes out to escape the horrific hallucinations.

The infection didn’t affect everyone the same. For some the symptoms progressed faster, and for some they had fewer symptoms. There were even some that claimed that they recovered from the infection.

There was some truth to the rumors. Being infected by close proximity sight/sound of the infected had a cumulative effect on symptoms, but it faded when not in their presence. Unfortunately, physical contact makes the infection spread far worse than sight or sound. It’s thought that maybe if they’re kept in isolation away from other infected they might recover, but this makes their symptoms of paranoia and desperation for human contact worse, leading to them harming themselves or others in their need to alleviate the symptoms.

The problem was that the infection couldn’t be detected until the blood’s color started to change, well after a person would be a danger to themselves and others. Despite lockdowns and stay at home orders, it spread beyond the city, beyond Texas, and even went international. People infected couldn’t handle being isolated alone as the infection progressed. Forcing them only made it worse.

Violence broke out, from infected people driven mad by paranoia and those desperately trying to escape being infected. The more an infected person was wounded, the more of that unnatural blood spilled in the later stages, the more they changed into something that became no longer human.

Some of the infected had their bodies warped, their proportions stretching and contorting until they were almost cartoonish, elongated, torn, and bloody. They were so desperate for company, and many infected clung to one another, flesh merging together until no one could tell where one person ended and the other began. These amalgamations were dangerous and violent, paranoid of being pried apart and some parts wanting to bring others important to them into the amalgam.

While there was hope of recovery for those infected in earlier stages, once they were warped to such a degree, there was no saving them.

Patient “Zero”

The first public case of this infection reaching its unnatural stages that gave it the nickname of the Color Plague was the incident with one Nick Herraras. The name of the infection might change later if I come up with a better term for it, but we’ll go with Color Plague for now.

Poor Nick was found on the streets, covered with what initially was mistaken for paint, only to be later identified as tainted blood. Some thought he was patient zero, driven to a crazed and desperate state as he wandered the streets, babbling incoherently about “sunshine” and “him.”

On the same night there had been a call to the police that reported a break-in at an apartment building where a woman lived alone. When colorful blood was found at the scene of the break-in, it was quickly deduced that Nick had been the culprit behind it. Alice King, the victim, reported that she had been asleep at the time, but she managed to scare the intruder off with her gun, which led to him being found wandering the streets.

The truth was… a bit different than Alice told the police.

The day had been a stressful one. Aside from the long shift, a regular customer at her job had been acting… strange lately. Nick had come to see Alice with increasing frequency, even lingering until closing hours.

It all started off innocently enough for Nick, just a harmless crush that turned into a serious case of lovesickness. Alice had been such a sweet breath of fresh air from his stressful life as an online celebrity, and despite the paranoia and hallucinations that affected him, he fixated on her. It got worse after his hands touched hers when taking his order from her. Her warm touch alleviated his slowly worsening symptoms like nothing else could. He became obsessed with her even as the hallucinations terrorized him to stay away.

Nick needed her.

Alice picked up on the way Nick kept staring at her even when she was taking care of other customers. It made her grow increasingly nervous, especially when Jack voiced his concerns about both Nick and the dangers of other people in general. Many of the regulars were starting to act strange and shifty as well.

Despite the voices warning Nick away, he approached Alice. He got in too close and rambled a bit about how he noticed that she didn’t ever go home with anyone. Did she have a boyfriend? He was exhausted and disheveled at the time, his wild eyes occasionally darting away to chase shadows before fixing back on Alice. He didn’t even give her a chance to answer, rambling on about how he had been watching her for weeks now, and he had seen her posts online. He saw her give that kid who spilled his yogurt a free replacement last week, and she helped an elderly man find his misplaced car keys. That was so kind of her. Her art was so pretty and her online profile said she was single, so she was, wasn’t she?

The cold got worse and Nick had to touch her, he needed it. Alice tried pulling away politely, but his increasingly desperate grabs for her caused her to panic. In a desperate bid to keep a hold on her, he dug his fingers into her wrists, hard, until a large gloved hand that seemed to appear out of nowhere wrenched his away.

It was the first time Jack had touched anyone besides his sunshine, and it was so cold. It sent Nick into fits, clawing at his hands where Jack had touched him, the hallucinations getting worse. The sight terrifying Alice.

Nick hadn’t been alone during that incident. James Harrison had been worried about his friend’s increasingly strange behavior. He tried to talk sense into Nick when he started acting increasingly erratic. When Nick grabbed onto Alice, James helped pry Nick off her, but he felt a terrible cold that made his hands itch when he succeeded.

James managed to calm Nick out of his fit, after a little while. He apologized to Alice for the scene, trying to smooth things over so that she wouldn’t call the cops. In the arms of his friend, Nick managed to start calming down and start coming back to himself. He was comforted by the warmth of someone he cared for and who cared about him. With everyone shaken, James escorted Nick home.

When in the company of his friend, feeling that warmth of connection, Nick was okay. But that night when he was home alone after he had reassured James over and over that he was just tired, he needed sleep, and that he would see a doctor tomorrow… his mind went back to Alice.

The hallucinations were so much worse, eating away at Nick. Only Alice could make them go away for good, he was sure of it. He even knew where she lived. He also knew how to pick locks, how to be quiet. If he just saw her alone without anyone around, he could make her see just how much he needed her, how much he wanted to get to know her, love her. His thoughts about her had deteriorated from an innocent crush into a sick obsession that he believed must be true love.

The plan did work, to a point. Nick managed to break in without alerting others in the apartment complex or waking Alice up. He just never expected that she wouldn’t be alone in her apartment.

In a sense, what happened to Nick ties into my past theory that he (and the other love interests) were all yanderes. It might have been debunked, but it can be something fun to play with in a universe where there’s an infection that turns people into monstrous yanderes.

After the incident with Nick at Yogurtopia, Alice was pretty shaken up. She felt paranoid going home that night. Fortunately she had Jack to watch out for her. It was only because of his reassurance and comfort that she was able to get any sleep that night.

Jack was also the only reason why Nick didn’t get his hands on Alice again that night.

Sunny Day Jack isn’t a violent person, or at least he has convinced himself that he isn’t, but he isn’t going to let anyone hurt or take away his sunshine. No matter what it takes.

Alice woke up to Nick’s hysterical screaming. She burst out of bed in time to see him fleeing from the apartment. She also saw Jack looming in the dark like a terrifying sentinel, something otherworldly and dangerous. The moment Jack sensed her fear though, he was back to normal, soft and reassuring. He told her someone broke into the apartment, but he managed to scare them off… somehow. When Alice asked about the blood, Jack told her (truthfully) that Nick was already bleeding when he snuck in. In fact, he started hurting himself before he ran away. She wondered if Jack lied to not scare her with the fact that he was capable of violence despite his kid-friendly persona, but later the next day she heard from the police that the wounds were in fact self-inflicted.

After all, Jack doesn’t need to get his own hands dirty when he can have Nick take care of it for him.

Word of the infection spreads, along with the infection itself. Alice refused to allow her family to come visit her after she told them about the break-in, when she feared that she might be infected as well due to her close proximity to Nick and him bleeding all over her home. She was examined by doctors, but when they didn’t find anything, she was sent home with instructions to self-isolate and monitor herself for any potential symptoms that might appear.

Once more, Alice was isolated in her home with only Jack for company. He cleaned up the mess for her so she wouldn’t have to look at the blood, and helped reinforce her door so that no one could break in as easily again… but the news made it clear that the world was becoming an even more dangerous place.

A Lonely Apocalypse

As one might expect, an infection that spreads by sight and sound spreads quickly, especially when it makes people desperate to reach out and touch others, spreading it even faster. Quarantine zones were broken easily, and chaos descended across the entire world. Infrastructures fell apart in the chaos, such as electricity, internet, and plumbing. Infected people broke into homes to find others to join them. Civilization collapsed.

Alice lost contact with her family when the internet and phone lines went down. Last she heard was that they were in isolation and they were all fine. Mercifully, no one was showing symptoms. Barbie had left her apartment and returned to their family home before travel became dangerous. The King family could watch out for one another, but Alice worried about them and her friends dearly.

Shaun, being more trope savvy about zombie apocalypses did decently well for himself despite the circumstances. He managed to escape being infected and has been able to isolate with Olivia and a few other survivors. Animals, mercifully, seem to be immune to the infection, so MoonPie is safe in his care as well. He’s slowly breaking down the “rules” of the infection in order to understand it and why some people are affected more strongly than others. He, like so many others, wants to figure out where it comes from and if it can be stopped. He is also pretty damn sure that this infection is something supernatural, so science alone can’t explain it, let alone put a stop to it.

Shaun and Alice communicated via internet and phone before both went down, so they knew that the other was safe until that point. Because Alice was suspected of being infected, she couldn’t join him and the other survivors. By this point she had a strong suspicion that she was an asymptomatic carrier of the infection.

But it was fine. Alice didn’t need to join up with survivors anyway. She had Jack to protect her. Shaun didn’t know who this Jack was, never having seen him in person. It stung to know that he was Alice’s new boyfriend, but he managed to joke that he was looking forward to meeting Jack “when all this craziness is over.”

The joke came out even more strained due to very real fears that might never happen.

When Ian first heard about the infection back in Texas, he wanted to take a flight back immediately and check up on Alice. However, by that time the city had been put under lockdown. Without any word about Alice, he grew increasingly worried about her, since she was already dealing with a chronic illness. When he heard through a mutual acquaintance that she might be infected, he was racked with guilt for leaving her, blaming himself. This wouldn’t have happened if he never left for college.

A lot of things never would have happened if he hadn’t left.

Alice picked up the phone for Ian once. Though it was hard on her, she was relieved that he was safe. When he wanted to see her, she told him under no uncertain terms not to. It was only when she outright told him that she was infected that he stopped begging her to change her mind.

The news shocked Ian, horrified him. He broke down, babbling apologies, and Alice told him it was fine. She forgave him for cheating and told him to not feel guilty about that anymore. He should focus on staying safe and not worry about her anymore. He needed to focus on taking care of himself now.

This was a final message from Alice to find closure with Ian and sincerely wish him happiness in spite of everything. What happened between them still hurt her, but in the wake of an apocalypse it was a more distant pain, smaller in the face of far more immediate threats. She also had Jack to support and comfort her. She had his love to heal her wounded heart and keep her safe. She felt stronger thanks to Jack in spite of everything.

Despite Alice’s attempts to alleviate Ian of guilt, his guilt only grew worse. He felt like he had to do something. Alice ended the call after telling him definitively to forget about her and not call her again, but how could he after everything they’ve been through? After how badly he failed her? He tried calling her back, but she finally blocked his number.

The guilt and his feelings for Alice ate Ian alive. It made him determined to get back to her and make things right, quarantine or no quarantine.

Even if that meant he got infected too. At least then they would always be together… like they should have been all along.

So Ian is trying to find Alice while avoiding the infected. It’s almost certain that he’ll fail the latter, but perhaps not the former… though what state he’d be in when he finally finds Alice might be something far more horrific than the boy she used to know and love.

Building a Life Together While the World Falls Apart

Although the world is crumbling down around them, Jack is getting stronger. He’s become more solid, stronger, and others can see him now. He can defend his sunshine from the infected, and he’s actually very good at it. Somehow he always manages to find a way to chase them off.

While for the most part Jack comes away unscathed from such encounters, sometimes he gets a little scratched up, which results in Alice fussing over him. He’ll never admit it, but he gets a little careless sometimes just to be spoiled by his sunshine. He knows it’s naughty of him, and he really doesn’t want to worry her, but it feels so good to be cared for so sweetly. He always asks her to kiss his boo-boos better, which leads to kissing other places as well.

Alice knows perfectly well that the aching Jack feels in his cock isn’t from any injury he took, but she’ll still kiss it until he feels allll better anyway~ He makes sure to make her feel very good as well in return.

Given how stressful things are and how isolated survivors have become, sex is a pretty obvious way to pass the time. Jack takes every excuse he can to seduce Alice, as long as the place they’re staying in is secured. He’s not going to be reckless with her safety. The infection might not affect her, but the infected are another story. He doesn’t care if anyone sees them (and really he’d enjoy showing off how much his sunshine loves him), but an infected isn’t simply going to sit back and appreciate the show.

Whenever Jack catches Alice worrying about her friends and family, he makes sure to redirect her focus on him as much as possible. He’s very good at distracting her with his love, placing kisses all over her body between sweet words of comfort and praise. She’s doing so well handling everything. She’s so strong, so kind, and so beautiful. She doesn’t have to handle it alone. He’s right here for her. He’ll always be with her, forever, and he loves her so, so much, more than anyone in the world.

It’s for the best that it’s just the two of them now. Even if Alice is infected, Jack is either immune or asymptomatic too, so it’s perfectly safe with just the two of them. He doesn’t have to worry about losing her to the infection, and she doesn’t have to worry about accidentally infecting him like she would her friends or family. They’ll be safe as long as they stay away and stay together, just like they’re doing now. Jack promises to make sure that neither of them will ever have to feel lonely ever again.

At present, the pair managed to secure an abandoned house. Well, mansion. Only the best for his sunshine, Jack said. Sure it took a lot of work fixing it up and cleaning up the messes, but as long as they’re together, they can handle anything life throws at them. They can face the world together, just the two of them.

After securing the place against invasions from infected or survivors taking advantage of the chaos, they managed to fix the place up to be rather cozy. They’ve secured a fair amount of supplies, and even started growing food both on the grounds and in a greenhouse. Alice knew a lot of tricks for how to grow plants effectively thanks to her mother’s expertise in the subject, and Jack handled much of the grunt work thanks to his strength.

It was kind of nice at times, like they were in their own little world. They could almost forget the outside world… if not for the occasional screams and wailing in the distance.

Despite the circumstances, and the occasional conflict, life in the mansion was actually pretty good for Jack and Alice. With animals being immune, they even got some pets in the form of dogs, cats, chickens, and even a couple rabbits. The animals also weren’t a threat to steal away his sunshine, so Jack was able to open his heart to them and love them as well, which helped to balance him emotionally a little.

That isn’t to say that it’s not hard on the two of them psychologically. Alice had to shoot people, infected and not, in order to survive. Jack wanted to handle all threats that came their way, but the infected had numbers on their side. Even supernatural powers have their limits, and this virus that he unknowingly started has gone far, far out of his control. He couldn’t stop it even if he tried.

That isn’t to say that Jack wouldn’t be the key to stopping it somehow. Someone just needs to put the pieces together and figure out the cause of the infection, then maybe they can figure out a way to stop it once and for all.

I think I’ll wrap things up on that note. I hope you enjoyed this ramble of supernatural biological horror. Let me know if you want to hear more about this or any other AU or story I’ve made. Thanks for reading!

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps