#i told you that I originally drew this just to draw them in winter clothes

[the-meme-monarch]

snowgrave: is clearly about kris and noelle and spamton and berdly and like literally anyone else

me: ok but how are my faves doing during all this

[duskandstarlight]

Embers & Light (Chapter 22)

Notes: Apologies for any major errors. I'm going to edit this again in the morning, but I wanted to keep to my promise and give you something today!

And also, I'm sorry... this is an eventful chapter...

EDIT: Now hopefully free of typos and grammatical errors...

Chapter Twenty Two Nesta

Despite the fact that it was only an hour past dawn, the camp was already bustling the next morning as Nesta made her way through the back end of the mountain pass. Cassian was scheduled to visit Swallow’s Ridge at midday, so Nesta had risen early and eaten breakfast alone before walking to meet him in their usual training spot.

It was a bleak, grey sort of day, the sky kissed with the promise of snow and the air so cold Nesta’s breath clouded thick in front of her as she approached the sparring rings. 

The training grounds were not the same as those carved into the rock towards the front of the mountain pass. Instead, an area had been felled of pine trees that was just large enough to construct three large training areas, which were partitioned off by wooden fencing. Unlike the punishing crystalline rock, the ground was soft and open to the elements, a mixture of stone and compact earth that had frozen solid in the cold weather.

Nesta counted twenty girls in the ring as she drew closer — the most Cassian had ever had, he’d informed her over dinner a few nights prior — and whilst some of them looked like they hated every second of it, Nesta noticed Durkhanai and some of the other orphans frowning in concentration as Cassian took them through the guard swings.

At the entrance of the ring, with his arms crossed firmly across his hard and unyielding chest, was Lord Devlon. He was wearing a stern expression, but apart from the odd clipped order he allowed Cassian to lead the session rather than stepping in himself. This did not seem to bother Cassian, who appeared wholly focussed as he walked up and down the training ground, correcting handgrips and stances with a voice that was still General but kinder than when Nesta had heard him barked instructions at the males.

Unlike when Nesta trained, no males had stopped to watch the girls in the ring. Instead, they appeared to avoid the training ground altogether, as if they were purposefully keeping their distance. Nesta was sure there was some pathetic reason for it, but she cast the sneering males to the back of her mind as she deliberately drew to a halt beside the pine fencing a metre from Devlon.

The positioning was purposeful; Nesta was not going to be intimidated by a half-wit bat with a stick up his ass. If Devlon wanted to believe she was a witch, she’d damn well let him.

So drawing up tall, Nesta surveyed Cassian walking up and down the line of girls as they practiced guard swings with wooden swords, and ignored Devlon with blatant disinterest.

The girls attention wavered as they clocked her arrival, and even Cassian stopped correcting a young female’s grip, his wings and nostrils flaring slightly as he scented her on the breeze.

Cassian’s head started to turn but Nesta didn’t have time to meet his gaze, as Devlon cast his dark, cold eyes to rest upon her. 

“Here for training are you,” he grunted. He eyed her hands warily as if he expected mist to be seeping from them.

Nesta twitched her fingers in the hope that he might squirm — just for her satisfaction — and a small, cruel smile twisting her lips upwards. “Yes.”

A begrudging nod. Not a snarl or a sneer. Only, “Mind where you blast that fire.”

Nesta opened her mouth to reply, but then Cassian was in front of her on the other side of the fence. His hair was even more tangled than usual. “I’m nearly finished,” he told Nesta, even though his eyes remained fiercely trained on Devlon. His expression was hard and a muscle in his jaw was already twitching. “Start warming up. Ten laps around the ring.”

Shrugging, Nesta started to jog around the training ground as the girls began to put away their wooden training swords. Durkhanai’s eyes widened as she spotted Nesta, a shy smile flitting across her face.

Nesta saw the orphan most days. Together they helped bathe, dress and feed the younglings to relieve the widows who needed to get down the mountain for work. Durkhanai was quiet but lovely, and after a week of working silently side by side, she started to speak to Nesta, telling her of the death of her mother during the brutal winter last year and her journey to the widows camp, the only place that would take her in. In turn, Nesta had shared a part of herself: her starvation as a human and the death of her own mother.

She did not speak about how she had been Made or about her father’s death. That was something Nesta was still not ready to discuss, let alone face herself.

Sometimes, late at night, Nesta would wake with her face wet with tears, having dreamt of those ships sailing into the midst of battle. How her father had stood at the helm of Nesta, as he looked towards the coastline and his daughters. In that moment, he looked forever young; his hair golden brown rather than grey, his face alight with purpose, his posture tall. The father he had been before their mother died, when Nesta had been his favourite and Feyre had not been forced to the woods so they did not starve.

Feyre. The sister who Nesta might potentially see today, if she willed it.

Originally, Nesta had not even contemplated meeting her sister. Had imagined Feyre standing at the top of the mountain in the freezing cold as she waited for a sister who would not come. But slowly, as three weeks passed, Nesta found herself torn between unbridled fury and curiosity.

Even now, Nesta did not know how to feel. Did not know whether she would face her sister or not. Did not know if she could.

So when she and Cassian trained, Nesta went hard. She ignored the few girls that had stayed behind to watch and Devlon’s beady eyes from his spot at the gates. Instead, Nesta slipped into the rhythm of hand-to-hand combat with an ease that had not come before, her fists and body a blur against the grey landscape.

When she finished her fifth round, a bead of sweat trickled down Cassian’s brow. “Good,” he praised between breaths, and Nesta knew it was deserved. “I felt that kick to the side, sweetheart.”

“Good,” she mirrored, and Cassian barked a laugh. “Maybe you’ll stop going easy on me.”

“I didn’t,” Cassian promised.

A dismissive snort. “You could have pinned me after that upper cut.”

Hazel eyes glowed bright. “I don’t fancy being blasted with silver fire this early in the morning,” Cassian said, even though they both knew why he hadn't pinned her. He stalked to the weapons rack and threw her a longsword, which she effortlessly caught by the handle. “Guards and then combat. Let’s see if you can strike me twice today.”

After their training session, Cassian loitered around the bungalow for longer than he should have. He had bathed first, so Nesta raised an eyebrow at him in surprise as she came out of the bathroom to find him in the living room.

“I thought you were going to Swallow’s Ridge,” Nesta said, her chin lifted as if daring for him to comment that she was wearing nothing but a towel.

The Nesta riddled with alcohol and completely numb would have had no qualms about baring her skin for all the world to see, if only to discover whether it would make her bitter heart feel. But with the potential meeting of her sister on the horizon, Nesta felt splintered and raw.

After failing to illicit comments from Cassian the day of Mor’s visit, Nesta also no longer felt as body confident as she had been. Her failure to draw his attention had only confirmed what she had not wanted to admit: that whilst she had put on weight, the knots in her spine were still too prominent and her thighs were far thinner than they should be, bowing at the tops rather than meeting in the middle. And whilst it wasn’t as if Cassian hadn’t seen more of Nesta’s skin before, today she wasn’t in a place where she could relish in it. If she had known he were still around the house, she would have changed into fresh clothes in the bathroom rather than her room.

Cassian’s nostrils flared and his eyes gleamed for such a short moment that Nesta wondered if it had merely been the fire dancing in his irises. “I might stay and oversee the foot soldiers instead.”

Raising an eyebrow, Nesta tightened the towel around her body. “Why,” she asked shortly. Too shortly. They both knew what today could be, depending on Nesta’s decision. It had been an omen hanging over them that morning as they trained. Cassian had not dared bring it up, and Nesta, who was still too conflicted over her sister’s impending visit, had only set her mouth in thin determination and wielded the longsword after he had thrown it at her, as if it were an extension of herself.

To Cassian’s delight, she had struck him twice. When they had ended, Cassian had vowed that he would start training her with the bow the following day at Spearhead.

Loosing a shrug, Cassian replied, “The rite is in three months. The Windhaven soldiers need as much training as they can get.”

A casual response, but Nesta was not fooled.

She reset her posture, her eyes narrowing in a way that usually had other’s running. “Do it tomorrow.”

Cassian cocked his head and those hazel eyes tunnelled into her with such intensity that Nesta wanted to look away. She didn’t let herself give in to the temptation, staring him down with the sort of unveiled threat that promised she’d make his life hell if he dared defy her.

Eventually, Cassian just shrugged, his broad wings shifting with the movement. He ruffled them, spreading them quickly before tucking them back in. It was a signature move of his when he was uncomfortable. “I’ll be back at dusk. I’ll see you for dinner?”

A careful question designed to ensure that Nesta didn’t intend to retreat into herself should she meet with Feyre. Cassian was worried, Nesta realised, fiercely so, the sensation escaping the walls he had constructed after Kamanam and lining her stomach with the scent of pine and musk and untamed air.

It had been a while since Nesta had been left feeling fully numb. It was a feat that hadn’t escaped her. Clearly, it hadn’t escaped Cassian either, and he wanted the reassurance that meeting with her sister wasn’t going to make her suffer, even though they both knew it didn’t work that way.

For once though, Nesta did hope that the numbness wouldn’t take a hold of her. The sensation felt odd — hope — but it was there, a flicker in the dark. And the thought of coming back to the bungalow later to eat in the kitchen with Cassian… the image was warm and inviting. Nesta could see the orange glow of faelight around the kitchen window, could imagine her feet crunching on snow and ice as she trekked her way back, could taste the spices on her tongue as she bit into the food he would prepare for her…

So Nesta said, “That depends on what you’re making.”

Cassian barked a laugh. “What would you like, sweetheart?”

Nesta shrugged, as if she were wholly uncaring, even as it felt as if someone had clenched a fist in her chest. “Dosas,” she said, tossing the word over her shoulder as she turned on her heel to head into the bedroom.

A low chuckle made her stomach twist and flip, but she did not look back at him, even though she knew his eyes had darkened and flared simultaneously.

Despite the distance, Nesta felt Cassian’s laugh rumble through her, like a flame licking down to her core. “Dosas it is.”

***  

Once she had dressed, Nesta left her bedroom with the intention of making her way to the widows camp. To her fury, she found that Cassian had still not left. He was waiting by the door, her headband in his outstretched hand. Her coat remained hanging from its hook, as if he had anticipated that she would emerge in clean leathers rather than an Illyrian dress.

When he informed her that he planned to walk her to the bottom of the mountain, Nesta snatched the headband from his hands and stormed out of the door with a furious hiss that had him grinning.

Yet... Nesta allowed him to follow her. Knew his cocky grin was just for show. Knew that he wouldn’t voice what they both knew: that somehow his presence had a calming effect on her, smoothing over the gravitas of what could or couldn’t happen in a few hours time.

Cassian opened his mouth a number of times during the walk, but eventually he chose to remain silent. Only when they arrived at the base of the mountain did he surprise her, conversing quickly with the guards in sharp Illyrian before stepping onto the treacherous path with her, rather than shooting into the skies.

Nesta’s scathing look did nothing to stop him in his tracks, and it was only when they made the first brutal turn that he spoke. “You don’t have to see your sister today if you don’t want to.”

Nesta scowled, angry at Cassian for bringing up Feyre when she had intended to cast her to the back of her mind whilst she still could. Her entire body stiffened but she did not turn to him, knowing somehow, that he wanted eye contact from her — hazel on blue.

She kept on walking; one foot in front of the other, her fur-lined boots crunching loose rock beneath her feet. “I am fully aware of what I can and cannot do.”

Her delivery was pointed enough to wound, but Cassian did not flinch. He stopped, reaching for her, his fingers closing around her wrist. “I meant what I said to you the other day, Nesta. You shouldn’t see your sister if you don’t think it’s best for you right now.”

Silence followed as heat licked through Nesta’s veins, her power slithering like a serpent through a dark tunnel.

When Cassian spoke next, his voice was low — a confession, “I fucked up before. I was so angry at you for ignoring me that I didn’t try to see things from your perspective. So I’m going to tell you again what I think you need to hear: only do this for you. Don’t do this for Feyre. If it feels right to meet your sister, meet her. If your gut tells you it is wrong, follow that feeling.”

Nesta nearly snorted in dismissal, but she quashed the sound before it could escape, remembering the look on Cassian’s face that night of Solstice, when she had treated him as if he weren’t worthy enough to even reject.

Instead, she said frostily, “I don’t need your support.”

Something flickered behind Cassian’s eyes. “I know,” he admitted, “but I want you to know that you have it, if you do want it.” His grip tightened around her wrist, his touch warm and too packed with meaning. “Sometimes we need distance to figure out what we need, Nesta.”

His gaze was too intense, so Nesta threw his words back at him as she scrabbled to keep her expression neutral. “And what do you need.”

A shake of the head had Cassian’s wind-snarled hair moving. “I don’t need anything from you," he confessed. "Recently there’s a spark of life in you that wasn’t there before. I don’t want to see it go out.”

Nesta’s windpipe tightened and she sucked in a breath as she purposefully slid her eyes away from him to the frost-kissed landscape; to the snow-capped pine trees, the canvas tents and the shadowed blurs of leather and steel.

“I’m not the same girl who was forced into the Cauldron,” Nesta said.

It was true. Nesta was not who she had been. The Cauldron and the war had remoulded her body and self until she was recognisably different: harder around the edges, broken in the middle. A jumble of revenge and anger and grief and hatred. Emotions that she tried in vein to trap in ice to stop herself from self-combusting.

As if he could tell what she was thinking, Cassian’s fingers moved from her wrist to squeeze her fingers.

“No,” Cassian agreed softly, “but I like who you have become, all the same.” With his other hand, he reached up to brush his thumb lightly over the arch of her cheekbone.

The initiated contact surprised Nesta so much that she did not have the time to order herself to flinch.

“I’ll see you later,” Cassian said, after he had stared into her eyes for a little too long. “If you need me, get one of the guards to send a messenger to Swallow’s Ridge. I’ll come back.”

They both knew Nesta would not ask for him, but she nodded to indicate that she had heard before he shot into the sky. Nesta watched him until he faded into the clouds, his dark wings merging with grey…

A flash of ruby flared like lightning, and then he was gone.

The weather was moody — Nesta’s favourite — and the rolling white and smoke clouds made her emotions spark in a way that she found comforting as she continued up the path. Despite her initial hesitancy, Nesta had learnt that for the most part, it was better to feel than to feel nothing at all. And now… all she could feel was where Cassian’s calloused thumb had brushed over her skin. She wondered if the bastard had done it on purpose to distract her — to make her feel when now was a time when she’d usually retreat into herself.

It irritated her beyond belief that it worked, but it irked her more that she wanted him to do it again.

Females dipped their heads at Nesta in greeting as she submerged herself into the bustling widows camp. Nesta nodded back at them, and when she found the least battered tent at the East side of the camp, Nesta rapped her knuckled on the canvas to alert Mas to her arrival before she ducked quickly inside. The housekeeper’s face lit up at the sight of her. Mas had been winding a thick scarf around Roksana’s neck, but she stopped the task to take Nesta’s face in her hands and plant two quick kisses on each cheek before she hurried off to help the other females in the makeshift kitchens.

“Tiya, sunt tibi beni?” Nesta asked Roksana when they were alone, smoothing a hand over the girl’s tangled hair before she continued to wind the scarf around the youngling.

Roksana did not reply, she only wrapped her arms around Nesta’s legs in a hug that warmed Nesta’s blood.

It was a recent development that Nesta had taken to greeting Roksana in Illyrian, hoping to coax out some words in her in her native tongue. It hadn’t worked yet, but the way in which Roksana’s eyes had lit up the first time Nesta had tried to sound out the language, had left Nesta determined to persist, even if she continued to come up empty.

The chores in the widows camp were never-ending. Tuesdays were many of the females day off and so the camp was far busier than usual. Nesta helped to feed and clothe the orphans with Durkhanai at the Eastern side of the camp, before urging the younglings to warm their wings and frozen limbs by the campfire.

Some of the older widows, including Mas, had come to settle by the fire as well, in order to keep an eye on the younglings whilst they weaved beautiful fabric together with needle and thread. Braving the fire, Nesta settled with Roksana against her side and recounted a few stories, until the spitting became too much and the sun was high in the sky.

Then, without thinking, Nesta stood. She ran a hand over Roksana’s hair and bid Mas goodbye, before heading to the path that traversed up the mountain to the summit at the Western point of the camp. She ignored the way in which Mas had watched her go, her expression concerned to the point of troubled. There was no way in which Mas could know what Nesta was about to do — Nesta had not told anyone about her potential meeting with her sister — but Mas had come to learn her moods just as Cassian had.

If Nesta was more forthcoming about herself, she might have asked Mas’s advice, but instead Nesta continued to move on instinct — on the pull that was drawing her legs to climb up, up, up until the path flattened out.

She saw Feyre as soon as she reached the peak. It was not hard to spot her. She was standing at the precipice, staring down at the widows camp below. Despite the long braid that had woven her sister’s golden brown hair into three strands, the fierce wind carried it behind her, highlighting the sharp angles of her cheekbones and the slight upwards slant to her eyes. Her long, elegant figure was swept up in the finest fur-lined leathers, as if she too had unwittingly dressed to expect a battle. Or, Nesta thought grimly, the clothing that her mate had insisted she wear, knowing that her sister was not only braving the Illyrian weather but her thorny, quarrelsome sister.

Nesta had just noted the sword strapped to her spine, when Feyre turned and noticed her.

There was a pregnant pause as eyes near identical to her own took in Nesta’s figure: her frost-kissed skin rather than sunken cheeks; the loose braid rather than the tight crown; the figure-hugging leathers rather than the drab, over-sized dresses. A far cry to when Feyre had seen her last, Nesta could admit that much.

“You came,” Feyre said eventually.

Nesta angled her chin, ready to spar.

“I come here every morning,” she replied coldly. “I’d assume that’s why you were advised to suggest here as a meeting point.”

There was no added insult for Cassian. No bat, no bastard, no scathing him. Even so, Nesta couldn’t bring herself to say his name. It felt too intimate — too much of a giveaway that she no longer hated him with such raging intensity she wanted to shatter things.

That was not to say that Cassian did not make her want to break things now… He did, but it was rarely from anger. Rather, it was in the way that he would look at her — in the way that no one else dared — as if she were wholly unbreakable and he had no qualms about closing the distance and pinning her between a wall and the muscled cords of his body.

The tension was rising between them — it had been for a while — and it hung thick and heavy in the air, so much so that at times Nesta found it hard to breathe.

And the worst thing was that Nesta felt herself giving in; melting into the temptation and scent of him, even when she knew that every sensation he pulled from her was a veiled disguise. An illusion. Not of choice but of a decision already made, whereby they were both playing out what was destined for them.

Yet, despite that knowledge, Nesta couldn’t deny that the thought of Cassian speaking of her to the Inner Circle opened the fetid wound that had been falsely healing inside of her. It seeped ruby through the cracks in her wall of ice, like blood tainting the purest snow.

In Nesta’s mouth, she tasted copper.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” Feyre repeated, her voice disbelieving as she shook her head.

“I can leave as quickly as I came,” Nesta threatened, her face stony and impenetrable.

To her surprise, Feyre didn’t retaliate or sigh. She only looked down at the view in the fearless way anyone with wings could on a deadly precipice.

“That rock looks like a tombstone,” Feyre observed.

Nesta did not move from her position at the top of the path. Instead, she remained rooted to the spot in case she decided to make a quick exit. Nesta suspected that moment might come sooner than later. Already she felt rubbed raw, her hackles raised, her body primed to fight, yet she kept her face impassive as she followed her sister’s gaze.

Far above them, three warriors flew across the sky. Their bodies were black dots against the grey backdrop, and Nesta watched silver glint off one of them as a gap between the clouds exposed the sun’s rays. Nesta wished she was with them rather than here. Maybe Cassian was right, she was not ready for this. She was not ready to face the ghosts that haunted her… the ghosts that Feyre unwittingly brought with her.

“It’s the widows camp,” Nesta told Feyre coldly, trying to swallow down the urge to run.

Feyre cut a sideways glance at her. “You were there this morning?”

Nesta rose her chin. “Are you asking me that because you’ve been spying on me or because your faithful informant has been telling you how I spend my day?”

Feyre blew out a breath that Nesta dissected as a method of steadying the rising temper they both shared. “I arrived early. Cassian doesn’t like to speak of you to me.”

Surprise flared inside of Nesta so sharp that for a second she couldn’t breathe. She had always thought Cassian loyal to Feyre first and foremost. Had always thought he would choose his High Lady over her lowly, cruel sister, despite the things he had said that had insinuated otherwise.

But Nesta kept her expression blank as she asked, “And I suppose that makes you angry?”

The way Feyre shook her head was tormented. “No, he — it has made me realise some truths — of how I have failed you, Nesta.”

The concession was not packaged how Nesta had been expecting it, so she did not speak. Feyre had turned to look at her. Her irises were the exact same as Nesta’s own, yet not half as steely. Out of the three of them, she and Feyre were the most similar; both in looks and personality.

Nobody was as lovely as Elain, she and Feyre had learnt that long ago.

Just once, Feyre rang her hands before they fell uselessly at her sides. It betrayed her as nervous.

“I don’t know if I ever told you the full story of what happened to me Under the Mountain,” Feyre started. She tore her gaze from Nesta’s to stare out at the sky. “Afterwards, I… things were very difficult. I had nightmares every night of those I had killed and I couldn’t keep any food down. I barely slept and I felt heavy all of the time, as if I were wading through mud. I hated being confined so much so that when Tamlin locked me in the house the Night Court saved me because I threw the entirety of it into darkness. Even once I was in Velaris, there was no light, only dark, and I could barely feel… Sometimes I went days of feeling nothing and I had this... power inside of me that I didn’t know how to use.”

Feyre turned back to look at Nesta. Her expression was grave, as if she were tunnelling too far into herself, into a part of her that she did not like to bring back to the surface.

Nesta had seen the look many times before, in the reflection of Cassian and Mas’s eyes, as they stared concernedly at her.

“I’m not telling you this with the intention of making you feel sorry for me,” Feyre said quietly. She had stepped closer to Nesta without realising. Nesta had been too preoccupied with that haunted look. “The reason I’m telling you this is because despite everything I went through and the people who helped me, I didn’t truly stop to realise that you were going through something similar after the war. I should have seen what was happening with you, Nesta, and tried to truly understand what you needed, but I didn’t. I could try to better myself by saying that everything was so busy during and after the war that I was too distracted, but really that’s just an excuse for my behaviour. I thought Illyria would give you a change of scenery away from…everything.”

Nesta’s snort was harsh. “You thought to throw me into a war camp so I could escape the memory of what happened in the war?”

Feyre’s wince was visible and Nesta watched her sister pinch the bridge of her nose. “I didn’t—” Feyre started, but then she trailed off with a shake of her head, as if she wished to start again. “Nesta, I’m sorry for sending you here. I was so worried that you would destroy yourself and so I did something drastic—”

“I am not yours to control,” Nesta snarled. “You summoned me like I was dirt on the bottom of your shoe. You banished me in front of half of your precious Inner Circle with no regard to how I was suffering. You humiliated me not as my sister but as High Lady and that is unforgivable.”

Fire raged inside of Nesta at the memory, so bright that she knew mist was seeping threateningly from her fingers. Feyre cast an alarmed look to her hands as Nesta stepped closer, as if she were expecting her sister to blast her off the mountain.

“You say you don’t like small spaces,” Nesta continued with quiet fervour. “Have you considered what it is like for me? To be banished somewhere where I cannot fly away? Have you considered that I too was trapped when I was kidnapped and thrown into a Cauldron to be remade against my will? And when I told you I could not bare to sit in the tub — when I gave you a piece of myself — you did not truly listen. Instead you trapped me into another life that has been chosen for me.”

Another step forwards, so close that Nesta could feel the warmth coming from her sister’s skin. “I am sorry for what you endured Under the Mountain. I am sorry for making your life miserable when we were younger, but I am not sorry for how I chose to deal with my trauma.”

Feyre’s skin turned so pale her freckles looked like they had been painted on with the tip of a paintbrush. “Nesta—”

But Nesta was not finished. Now she had started, she couldn’t stop. The words poured forth as easily as fire wanted to flow from her fingertips. “Have you considered that I have never had control over any aspect of my life — that I have always been told what to do and how to behave?”

That fateful finger was out now, stabbing the air between them. Feyre took a step backwards as if Nesta had prodded her in the chest. Silver sparked in the air between them, a promise of what would undoubtedly come.

“I fought in the war,” Nesta continued with quiet fury. “I killed the King and changed the course of history. I tried to show you that I was sorry for how I had treated you through my actions. I tried to earn forgiveness, to try and make up for what I had done wrong. Yet you and your mate did not see my actions as worthy. And when I told you I did not want to be controlled by you, you banished me somewhere with somebody I could not stand to be around, as if I wasn’t your sister but a troublesome subject.”

Taking that final step, Nesta closed the distance between she and Feyre. Feyre did not back away again. Instead, Nesta watched a tear roll down Feyre’s cheek with a chilled sort of fury, and with quiet fervour, said, “Well, I have news for you, sister. I am untameable and I do not answer to anybody but myself.”

Horror coursed through Nesta’s insides, the sensation interwoven with the scent of lilac and pear. Feyre’s hands came to cover her face and a sob coursed through the mountain landscape, so sharp it was as if it were her sister’s last breath. “I didn’t want you to die. I thought you were going to drink yourself to death, Nesta. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Seeing her sister cry hurt, but being understood hurt more. So Nesta ploughed on; the words escaping as if they had been scrabbling to get out for a long, long time, “You once asked me why I pushed everyone away but Elain — why I pushed you away. Well, here’s your answer High Lady: you never needed me. I lost you long ago, as soon as mother told you that I was unsuitable to look out for my younger sisters and that you were the only one up for the task.”

Nesta hadn’t thought it possible for Feyre to turn paler, but she had. Her skin looked as if it had been leeched of life. As Nesta said the words, she knew they were unfair. Her younger self had projected anger onto Feyre rather than taint the dying mother who Nesta had always tried so hard to please.

A silence stretched out between them that was so taut and angry, Nesta had to resist the urge to throw her hands to the sky until it was burning mercury. Instead, she kept her power inside, wanting to feel the ferocious thrum of it in her blood, at the pulse in her neck which was hammering as if it were trying to escape.

“Is that why—” Feyre started, but a sound had Nesta throwing up a finger to stop her, because she had heard something on the wind which had made her blood freeze.

For a moment… nothing. Then on the wind came familiar, high pitched laughter that sent chills down Nesta’s spine. It was a sound that she had hoped to never hear again, yet it was unmistakable — clear as day.

“No,” Nesta breathed, whirling round to stare down the mountain path. Through the misty clouds, Nesta could make out nothing but the dark shape of the tombstone, but she knew that sound. She would never forget that sound, not as long as she lived.

“What is it?” Feyre demanded.

“Be quiet,” Nesta snapped.

Laughter came again. It skittered up the craggy rock, followed by snarling and snapping teeth.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Nesta moaned, running to ledge that Feyre had been standing at previously, which gave an unhindered view of the widows camp. And through the foggy clouds, Nesta saw them. Sloping four-legged figures on the western perimeter of the widows camp, slinking through the shadows. Too many of them. Nesta had no idea how they had gotten there, why they would have ventured somewhere so populated…

“What is it?” Feyre demanded again, running to Nesta’s side so she too could look over the mountain. “Oh Gods,” Feyre breathed. “The females. The children. Nesta, what are they—”

But Nesta was not listening. She was running before she had time to think, her feet digging into the stone as she tore her way to the mountain path that zagged its way down to the widows camp.

“Move,” she barked over her shoulder. The command was biting but Feyre did not hesitate, tearing after her sister as if it were second nature.

Nesta had only reached the first bend with Feyre hot on her heels when the first scream pierced through the clouds. Power leapt within Nesta, and then her mind went loose as it went taut… as Nesta reached within herself, into her veins where that magic hummed hello… ready. And Nesta did not push it away. Instead, she brushed against it in greeting, just as she had done when she had worn Cassian’s siphon, in the moment before she bended it to her will. And then her fingers were curling around the pommel of a longsword made entirely of breathing, silver flame.

She clutched on to it, the weapon so much an extension of herself that she did not have to worry about it falling from her grasp. The rest of the descent passed in a blur of moving rock, as she and Feyre skidded on loose stone and slushy ice, and the screams… they kept coming. Again and again. Panic and terror so palpable they pierced through Nesta’s emotional shields, each agonised sound stabbing through her, her power leaping to meet it, pushing beneath her skin, desperate to get out…

Together, she and Feyre plunged into the fray. Crowds of female were stampeding towards them, desperate to get to safety, to reach the only path that led down to the safety of the main camp.

And amongst them… kerits. So many of them chittering and snarling, their long, pointed teeth snapping and tearing as they leapt at the defenceless females with the intent of feasting on their flesh. Nesta slashed at them with her sword, fire sizzling through fur and flesh, her body moving independently of her brain as it fell into a killing dance.

Feyre had not drawn her sword from her back, instead she wielded ice from her palms, and spears of it wove their way through the air like arrowheads, plunging themselves into moving bodies of spotted fur. Nesta just had time to see the body of a kerit slump to the floor, its body impaled by ice, to reveal a female cowering against the canvas of her tent. The female’s face was ashen and disbelieving as she stared at the sloping bodies that had fallen before her at the will of Feyre’s magic. At the trail of limbs and guts scattered around her, belonging to the female who they had not been in time to save… But then another kerit was leaping at Nesta, and Nesta did not have time to think, only react as she plunged her sword into it’s belly. It fell by her feet with a sharp cry, black blood spilling on the rocky ground. Nesta did not pause to consider the bloodshed or how her feet slipped in it as she continued to run, she only raised her free hand to the sky again, desperately blazing silver into the clouds, hoping that it would be enough to alert the camp below of the attack.

Already Nesta knew that there were too many kerits for she and Feyre to fight off themselves… Already there had been casualties. And still, the orphans were huddled at the Eastern-point of the camp with nobody to protect them…

It was that thought that had Nesta pressing on. Kerits leapt at she and Feyre before they realised that they had chosen the wrong pray, and Nesta sliced and jabbed with her fire-breathing steel, relishing in the beasts dying screams and savouring the sobs of the widows, which brought solace in the knowledge that they were alive and momentarily safe.

All went eerily quiet as Nesta and Feyre reached the towering tomb of rock and the makeshift canteen surrounding it. The stampede of females had petered out, and Nesta hoped it was because most of them had managed to escape down the mountain pass, rather than because they had fallen victims to the kerits. Her gut twisted at the thought… as she thought of Mas, Roksana and the other orphans who had been tucked away against the mountain wall at the Eastern side of the camp… a dead end.

If the kerits had managed to corner them… it would be a massacre.

Another lurch of her stomach as Nesta surveyed the benches and tables that had been strewn across the stone floor. Beside one of the upturned benches lay the twisted body of the elderly cook with crooked teeth — the female who insisted on feeding Nesta each morning, even when Nesta told her that she had already eaten breakfast. The cook’s tan skin was covered in claw and tooth marks, her body bloody and brutalised in such a horrific way that Nesta knew there was not a glimmer of life left in the female.

It must have been a horrible way to die.

Biting back a sob, Nesta closed her fingers around her sister’s arm, needing Feyre to understand that in this moment, she did not care if she died; she only cared that she could protect the defenceless females before she fell.

“The orphans,” Nesta urged to Feyre, pointing towards the Eastern side of the camp and the screams that were being tossed away on the wind. “They’re at the East side of the camp. There’s no way out.”

Nesta did not dare say the name Roksana or Mas. Could not voice what she was terrified of… That something could have already happened to the Illyrian’s she had come to care for so deeply.

Nesta tried to push away the thought of how Roksana had clung to her that morning… of how her small fingers had grabbed onto her legs in a clumsy hug. Nesta tried not to think about how Mas had kissed her in greeting; her weathered palm patting lightly against Nesta’s cheek in that motherly way of hers that always made her feel unconditionally accepted and loved.

The boom of wings sounded across the mountain pass, and then different coloured lights started to flash as siphons were willed into action, warriors finally landing in the camp to fight off the beasts. Nesta spotted Ragar and his friends, Devlon, guards on patrol, but then Feyre’s hands came to rest on her arms, pulling her attention away.

Nesta stared at her sister — at the white face streaked with blood which was set in grim determination, even as they heard the rising screams.

“Let’s go,” Feyre said, those two words sparking more respect in Nesta than any of their tense exchange at the top of the mountain.

And then they were running again, both of them throwing magic from their palms, taking out a gang of kerits who had leapt between the tents. Nesta swung her longsword of silver fire with her left-hand just as a kerit jumped in front of Feyre, attacking from seemed like nowhere.

Black blood streaked hot across Nesta’s face as her sword sizzled through muscle and sinew, but she ignored the wailing screams of the dying beast, turning only to make sure her sister was alive and unharmed.

Feyre’s eyes were wide, her heartbeat as frantic as a hummingbird in Nesta’s ears. “Thanks,” Feyre breathed, panting desperately for breath. Then she pointed to the direction they had been heading — to the Eastern-most point where Nesta had left Roksana and Mas that morning. “There are lots of warriors up ahead.”

Together they dodged the crowds and beams of coloured light. To Nesta’s relief, the huddled figures on the floor seemed to mainly consist of spotted fur, the Illyrian males clearly having arrived in time to prevent a massacre. But still Nesta ran, not realising how her lungs were heaving for breath or the burn in her thighs as she weaved through lifeless bodies and crying females, heading towards the smoke that wafted up from the dying camp fire — the place she had left Roksana and Mas what felt like mere minutes ago.

It was not how she had left it.

In front of her, metres before the campfire, lay Durkhanai’s bloody body. Her eyes were open and unseeing, her pupils green and mesmerising even in death… her spirit already well departed from the world. And a foot away from her…

“No.”

The sound that tore from Nesta was agony. It ripped from her chest — from deep, deep inside that locked cage as it cracked.

Nesta’s boots slipped through guts and gore, but she did not care. In her periphery, Nesta saw limbs and the unseeing eyes of the females who had flung themselves in the paths of the beasts, as if they had willingly lay themselves on the pyre to put the lives of the orphans before themselves.

Nesta did not feel the blinding pain that should have splintered through her as she fell to her knees on the grey rock. Because in front of her was Mas. She was lying on the floor and her wings — her scarred and battered wings — were in tatters. Her stomach was oozing with blood, deep claw marks raked through raw flesh.

And beside her was Roksana, her face and clothes covered in bright scarlet blood. Her small, precious hands buried deep in Mas’s gut, holding in the punctured intestines that were trailing out of her body; as if they had been dragged out by long, pointed teeth…

The little girl stared up at Nesta, her dark eyes blown wide in shock. Around them, the anguished cries and screams of agony went quiet, Nesta’s ears drowning out all noise but the croak that came from the youngling’s mouth. “Help,” she said, those little hands sliding on intestines and blood as it leaked through her fingers. “Help.”

“No,” Nesta repeated again, the word cracking out of her as she surveyed the damage that was too severe for an Illyrian to remedy. “No, no, no.”

Her hands slipped in hot blood as she pressed her own palms over Mas’s gaping wounds. The housekeeper’s breath rattled, the sound terrible and wringing with what Nesta knew was unimaginable pain. Mas’s face was grey — as if already it had been drained of life; as if the end had been written and there was no avoiding it.

Fingers grasped at Nesta’s but the Illyrian’s eyes did not open, even as her eyelids flickered — the movement asking too much of her body. They slipped against Nesta’s as they moved through her own ruby blood.

“You will not die,” Nesta told Mas fiercely, her eyesight blinded by tears. A silver tear rolled down Nesta’s cheek and fell onto their clasped hands… into the open, gaping wound. “You will not. Do you hear me?”

Only silence answered as Mas’s body went slack. Her chest rattling one last time before it stopped moving all together.

When the housekeeper’s fingers fell away from Nesta’s own, everything went still.

“Nesta.”

A hand was on her shoulder — Feyre — but Nesta did not feel or care for it. Someone had pulled Roksana away into the safety of their arms — away from the dead body with its departing soul. Deep inside of Nesta, the scent of roasted chestnuts and wood shavings began to fade, as if it had been caught in the wind and was about to be tossed away.

“No.”

That same word again, but this time it came with weight behind it. Defiance. Anger. Heartbreak. All her own, and yet piling on top of that, layer by layer, was every painful emotion and memory of loss that had been imprinted on the stone over the years, from the widows that had come before and had suffered unimaginably.

Something turned inside of Nesta, her magic flipping as if someone had turned a key in a lock to reveal not silver but white… A pure, snow white light that seeped from her fingertips, singing with gentle promise rather than destruction.

“No,” Nesta said.

That word again, but this time deadly calm.

Still.

Who do you want to be, Nesta?

Cassian’s words from the day before sounded in her head. At the time she had not known the answer, but now, her path had never been clearer.

Raising her steady blood-stained hands to hover over Mas’s wounds, Nesta let that icy wall protecting her emotions fall away inside of her. It crashed down around her like a dam whose gates had been opened, her emotions running like rampant and wild rapids, rushing into her blood and down strands of interwoven rope. Her power vibrated with a controlled energy and then that white light glowed, shining from her palms.

It was so bright that Nesta had to close her eyes to protect herself from the sheer brilliance of her power as it poured forth.

She did not need to look at Mas’s body to bear witness to her healing. Did not need to watch the housekeeper’s wounds knit themselves back together, as if someone were turning back time in slow motion.

She just knew.

And in that moment, Nesta also knew exactly who she was supposed to be, even as her body started to hurt.

Two weaving components, bound together as surely as a rope plaited with two complementing strands.

Protector.

Healer.

That was who Nesta was.

Tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @arin1030-blog @superspiritfestival @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @mylittlebigplanet @biggestwingspan-az @bellsqueen @ekaterinakostrova @bookstantrash @prophecyerised @rainbowcheetah512 @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @iammissstark @hatemecozuaintme @lovelynesta @heymelphs @nestable @darkshadowqueensrule @nestalytical @laylaameer01 @a-trifling-matter @grouchycritic7794​ @thalia-2-rose @swankii-art-teacher

[theexecutionerssong]

SKAM FRANCE BTS MASTERPOST

This is a master post of BTS anecdotes told in interviews, at cons, screenings and on social media. Don’t click the read more if you don’t want to lose some of the magic. I know sometimes knowing too much of how a show was shot can ruin it. Also, it’s very obvious that there was more promo starting around season 3 than for the first two seasons, don’t hold it against me. Feel free to message me if you think of something else as I must have forgotten a ton of things.

CASTING, REHEARSALS, BTS IN GENERAL

Skam France had the rights for the 4 seasons first but had to follow the original script almost to a T for the first 2 and if the audience was big enough then they would be allowed to distance themselves from OG

Skam France casted actors that were as close personality wise to their characters as possible, which made it easier for the cast to identify with their characters and made the friendships developping between the characters more believable since it was also developping off screen

They were not allowed to cast underaged actors who would have been closer to the real age of the characters due to the long hours of the shooting conditions

Most of the actors come from theatre and many had no or little previous experience with shooting for a camera before

The cast isn’t allowed to watch the clips before they air.

Most of the clothes they wear in the show are their own.

During rehearsals of the first seasons, Philippine went to the board with everyone’s names on it and wrote something funny next to Zoe’s name and wanted to send it to her but she messed up and published it on her ig stories, leaking the entire cast when it was still supposed to be a secret.

Lula’s first reaction when she got the script and “met” Daphné was “oh no I’m scared. I just want to slap her, she’s insufferable”

Assa almost didn’t audition for two reasons: the casting call didn’t specify they were looking for a woman of color and French casting calls almost always say whether they are specifically looking for a black woman. If it says nothing then they are usually looking for a white person. She thought she had no chance because of that. Second reason, after accepting the casting call, she did some research and found out OG Sana was from the Maghreb and she’s not. But her agent convinced her to go through with it, the only thing the skam france team wouldn’t negotiate was that they wanted a Muslim actress. There was no way they would have casted a non muslim actress/actor for Imane and Sofiane.

Skam France was the first TV show on French TV to have a black muslim  woman wearing a hijab as a main character

Paul, Robin and Axel knew each other before shooting, they’d met in Avignon.

Coline was still in her last year of high school when she shot the first two seasons.

Niels is the one who came up with a raccoon as Eliott’s spirit animal

They shoot about 15 minutes of usable content per day which is impressive (it’s usually 2-3 for movies released in theatres, 5-7 for TV programs)

When France TV told David the first two seasons were a success and they were renewing the show, he gave them a list of things he wanted to change so that he’d agree to come back to direct the next seasons, including a different camera, renewing the writers team (they included Niels), storylines, the ig content, etc. The new camera they got was a SONY Venice which allows them to play a lot with the focus/blur ratio and the cold and warm undertones, which made a major shift in the visual quality of seasons 3 and 4 compared to the previous 2.

David named Eliott after his son.

Having the teaser from Eliott’s POV was David’s idea. It’s the first remake to have a clip from the French Even’s POV

The bus stop from season 3 is fake, it doesn’t exist. It wasn’t even shot in Paris itself but in Saint Ouen.

Maxence didn’t watch OG - besides the towels in the bathroom clip - because he wanted to create his own Eliott without being too influenced, and he didn’t watch s1 and 2 of skam france either because he wanted Eliott to discover the characters without knowing their backgrounds.

Maxence wasn’t supposed to audition. He wanted to be done with his acting school before shooting anything but the head of the casting team came to watch a public class at his school and asked him to audition for Eliott at the end. David and Niels knew right away he was the one. Niels watched the audition tapes and was very impressed with another actor but within the first 3 seconds of watching Maxence, he knew it wouldn’t be anyone else. Maxence met Axel after the 3rd call back and they clicked right away. He’d broken his foot two days earlier so he was in crutches. They watched Even’s manic episode and had to improvise a similar scene but had to do with the crutches. They also went for a drink before shooting and they talked for hours, their connection was instantaneous. 

When he learned Maxence was cast, Axel went on his instagram and saw the model pictures and thought he was way too hot with the abs and everything and he himself would look like a potato during the nude scenes next to him. So he got a coach and for 3 months he trained and got on a very strict diet. He was disappointed that there were no shots where you could actually see his abs properly in Skam. He had also said months before that he had gotten a coach because before they started shooting seasons 3 and 4, he had met up with Marilyn to get advice on how to carry a season and she had told him to get a coach otherwise he wouldn’t be able to keep up with the pace. So what is the truth?

It leaked that Maxence was casted in July 2018 because someone on a Korean website recognized his shoes in an IG story from when he’d been spotted at the airport months earlier but it was kept mostly under wraps. Then his and Lais’s names leaked too a couple of months later but most people hadn’t seen his face before the trailer.

David asked Axel and Maxence to give up their phones and social media during the couple of months they were shooting to be really focused and not get distracted by the outside world and they mostly did. Axel bought an mp3 to still have music, he wrote “LUCAS ♥” on it with a white out pen. He created a playlist for Lucas, including songs like Run Boy Run and I love you by Woodkid, and To Build a Home by the Cinematic Orchestra.

Maxence’s process to get ready for a shot: he does yoga and dances a lot in the morning. he puts music on and paces a room while picturing himself standing on the edge of a cliff and if at some point he feels like falling and loses his balance, it means he’s got it. He asks that all the scripts he gets be printed on the right side of the page and on the left he takes notes about what the character is feeling through 7 different states: love, hate, fear, power, vulnerability, sex and i hate myself for not remembering the last one. To play a scene properly, you have to conjure up 4 states to create one emotion. He loves that David respects his method and is able to adapt to every member of the cast’s method. He also uses his body as a tool, for example if his character has to feel lonely or unsure, he will curl up into a ball for an hour without moving and then he’ll be in the right mindset because his body is telling him he’s isolated. That’s the method he used for Eliott, he created “lost scenes” that weren’t in the script, moments in between scenes with Lucas, to get more into Eliott’s mindset.

Maxence wrote a letter to Eliott, drew a picture of him, and spent hours adding notes to the script about his personality before even trying to get into his mind. 

There was a contest for the drawings in season 3. Maxence participated but didn’t get picked. Jeanne Lelièvre did!

All the social media content for seasons 3 and 4 were shot on the same day in December 2018 which is why you can see heavy winter clothing even when the content was published in May. For season 3, most ideas were Axel’s, and Maxence said no to 90%. 

While shooting for seasons 3 and 4, Axel was also on stage every night for theatre

To prepare for his role in s3, Axel watched CMBYN, Moonlight, and The Office 

They received more feedbacks from international fans than French ones at first. It was even a private joke between Niels and David, there were no comments in French on Youtube. Then the piano clip happened and David’s phone went crazy with notifications. He was in the editing room with Jérémy and the buzzing from his phone was non stop. They banned phones in the editing room after that.

Skam France owes part of its popularity to how accessible the cast and crew are, either on social media or IRL, with 6 entirely free events organized to get the fans and the cast and crew to meet, watch episodes together and have Q&As during seasons 3 and 4.

Skam France shooting locations have become extremely popular for the fans to hang out at and leave little mementos, to the point that the mayor of Paris has asked the team to pick completely untraceable locations, or make sure they are not in Paris itself for the next seasons

Skam France was the first remake to get renewed for 2 (possibly 4?) original seasons

Alexia and Daphné were supposed to have their own seasons they but couldn’t get the green light from Norway. He got the idea for Arthur’s story quite quickly after but they had to rework the scripts for seasons 5 and 6 a lot. Robin talked to David about his addiction to video games and how it could be a potential theme but in the end David chose deafness instead.

SEASONS 1 AND 2

It was Coline’s idea to make Alexia bi. There was a scene when Alexia mentions an ex boyfriend and she asked David “why wouldn’t it be a girl?” and his only reaction was “Ok. What’s her name?” and that’s how bi!Alexia was born.

It was also Coline’s idea to give Alexia’s colorful hair. She later regretted it because she had to bleach her hair twice to get the blue to stay and it fried her hair.

Assa’s worst memory of shooting s1 and 2 is when the girls have to carry Daphné, she kept dropping her and was afraid of hurting her.

Marilyn and Lula ruined the scene when the girls are having breakfast all together when they are on the countryside because they couldn’t stop laughing over carrots and the crunchy noise it was making. It was the last day of shooting and their nerves were all over the place.

SEASON 3

The first scene in the common room didn’t hit them that much, they didn’t realize the impact it would have because the whole shooting was just David yelling at them to look at each other then stop then do it again then stop etc

Nobody realized how big of an impact the “Moi c’est Eliott” line would have and then when they watched the clip, it was obvious.

The check de gang wasn’t scripted, it was Paul’s idea to make it a running gag. David wasn’t sure about it but after doing it just once, he was sold. Basile tripping over the bench was also Paul’s idea but he didn’t warn anyone he was doing it so Xavier started laughing and the camera was shaking so bad that they couldn’t keep it and had to reshoot the scene. They noticed during the editing process that Robin also tripped at the same time in the background during one take so they had to keep that one. 

Lucas playing the piano was Axel’s idea even though he didn’t know how to play properly. He sent a text to David at the end of June with different ideas for songs and David picked the most difficult one. He then practiced anytime he could until they shot the scene in october. It took him two months to learn it completely and then a little more to make it look easy.  (Niels later said it was his idea and that Axel was a cheeky little shit). Maxence had never heard Axel play the song before that moment so Eliott’s reaction is genuine. He didn’t think he’d manage to get in the right state of mind because the apartment was too small for the whole team and they were all very cranky, it was 3 am, but the moment he heard the first notes, he forgot all about it and was completely amazed.

The infiltration party: David asked that Basile pushes Daphné a bit, like shoves her out of the way when they have to run, but they hadn’t had the time to rehearse anything. After a couple of takes, Paul pushed Lula a bit too hard and she fell on her knees quite hard. He felt so bad because he never wanted to hurt her and they all had to take a half an hour break because her knees hurt. David after that was like OKAY NO MORE STUNTS EVER.

Axel got mad at the makeup department because the two lines on his face were not on the same place when they shot the outside scene and then once inside. He got so angry he could have cried that they wouldn’t believe him. So during the shooting he looked straight at the camera and wiped them away with the back of his hand to force them to draw the lines properly.

The first kiss scene: they had been shooting for 12 hours. It was raining intermittently all day so the team had to pack up the cameras often and wait it out when it was too much. They ran 4 hours late. They had a fake rain machine but no change of clothes so they could only shoot once. Below the bridge is not easily accessible, it’s a long path from the gate, so they used ropes to get things up and down from the bridge. They only had one shot. They had already shot kissing scenes but David was always telling them it had to be more passionate and kept yelling at them to use more tongue so for that shot they gave it their everything on the first (and only) take they did. 5 minutes later they were shooting the Remember scene.

They shot all the scenes in the colloc on the first week of shooting. Minute by minute was shot right before Samedi 9h17. They had to restart shooting samedi 9h17 four times because something wasn’t working between Axel and Maxence, they were clumsy and stressed. After taking 5 minutes to themselves with David to remind themselves of how pivotal the scene was, Axel and Maxence said they were ready and they shot the opening scene that made the cut.

The Phase de latence clip : Axel and Maxence felt like terrible actors because they had already shot all the big very emotional scenes and this was a bit tamer since Eliott doesn’t show much emotions. They felt that way about all the scenes shot in the school.

The Fête de trop clip: They shot the fight with the guys 8 times but it wasn’t enough for David until Robin slapped Axel on the 9th. After that they shot Chloé yelling at Lucas. Axel was still out of it due to the slap he’d gotten earlier that he hadn’t expected. At 3am, they finished with Lucas injuring his hands. Axel cracked the metacarpus in his hand and only told David two days later.

Leo has talked about the coming out bench scene and said Yann took it a bit too far and was too dramatic, he was like “i don’t know if i can say that… but c’mon… I mean. C’mon… that’s your best friend… who cares if he didn’t tell you right away, he had bigger problems on his mind, right?”He would have done it differently.

The “viens on n’en parle pas” scene was shot in 50 minutes in the middle of the night on the second day of shooting. Marilyn and Axel’s emotions were briming under the surface so it was one of the easiest scene to shoot.

The hardest scene to shoot for David in s3 was the intervention clip. It was the second day of shooting, the 4th clip of the day. Axel’s first take was not good enough and David was scared it would set the tone for the season. He had a stern talk with Axel. Thankfully, they shot a second time and it was the right one, everyone on set was crying and Axel was completely drained.  

The scene where they go get the couch from the creepy place is the one they shot last for season 3.

The paint scene: they only had one try. Axel and Maxence hadn’t shot together for a week, David had done it on purpose and they’d missed each other. It was shot on a Friday at the exact time it was supposed to happen IRL. The whole thing lasts 14 minutes long. David took their pants off because they were slipping too much. Xavier almost stopped filming he was like “is he serious? did he just take their pants off??”. They shot a part when one of them slips on the ground and the other follows but that didn’t make the cut. There were 25 people on set, everyone in a suit to protect from the paint, but Axel and Maxence forgot everyone and just got lost in their characters. When David yelled cut, Axel and Maxence didn’t hear him and kept making out. David had to separate them. Then they all were so happy that they yelled their joy but then saw all the people who were behind the camera, and everyone was crying, like they had witnessed something too intimate. They showered for an hour, emptied 2 bottles of soap and even then it wasn’t enough, Axel still had paint running down his neck at a party that evening. The music used on set was Dreamer, the Khlar remix. Maxence was upset it wasn’t the one they ended up using in the clip, it felt like a betrayal because it “wasn’t the song they had made love to”.

Maxence fought with the costume department over the briefs he was wearing in the paint scene, because they had shot the PONI scene first and he could remember which ones he was wearing for the PONI scene and he wanted to wear the same ones. He was sure people would notice.

The first scene Maxence ever shot was the PONI scene. 

The boat scene was quite special. It was a big moment for Maxence, he was extremely nervous, so David reduced the team on set as much as he could. Maxence got upset at Axel for being too present during the scene. Being used to a theatre stage, Axel is always a bit over the top, eating his ham with a flourish, stuff like that, but this was supposed to be Eliott’s big scene. Maxence asked for a break and told David that if Axel didn’t tone it down, he’d kill him. That also got resolved quickly. 

The Remember Me scene: the priest is Lula’s dad. Lula and Niels both make a cameo in the church. They forgot to warn Axel that a car was coming when he’s running so his reaction is genuine. He was running so fast, the minivan with the camera couldn’t keep up so they shot it twice. They shot Lucas finding Eliott under the bridge just after shooting the first kiss. Maxence only had 4 minutes to get into the right state of mind which was extremely challenging and during that time he had to change his clothes, dry his hair and redo his makeup. Axel wasn’t feeling very well, he was exhausted after having shot 4 clips that day, but David told him he could do it so he ran on the path to the bridge harder than ever (David thought he was going to hurt his sinews) and when he fell to his knees, he was close to passing out, you can actually hear when he says the first “t’es pas tout seul” that he’s about to throw up / can’t breathe properly. They only shot that part once and after it was done David told them they should hug each other because what they had just done with Lucas and Eliott was precious and a moment to remember.  

There was supposed to be a scene after the Remember scene but it was cut. Eliott is sleeping, Lucas brings him food and starts reading his book and then Eliott wakes up. They say hi, Eliott is confused about the time it is, it’s already late afternoon. He says he needs to leave, but Lucas tells him no. He keeps saying he has to go, he has to go to his parents. Lucas tells him it’s fine, they’ve been warned of where he is. But he says he’s got to leave anyway. Lucas asks him why he keeps insisting he needs to leave and Eliott tells him he just doesn’t want Lucas to see him like this. Lucas tells him he doesn’t mind. Then he starts teasing him, saying Eliott just wants to leave because he doesn’t want to own up to the fact that he lied to him. Eliott is confused. Lucas reminds him that he’d said there was no way he would ever be able to sleep next to a guy that hot (on the boat) and yet here they are actually taking naps. So Eliott must have lied to Lucas about finding him hot. Eliott says he’s an idiot and Lucas tells him that at least he’s not a liar at that what matters is that he is his idiot. “Congrats, you’re now the owner of an idiot… more or less hot” Eliott tells him he’s won and asks what they should do now. Lucas answers that they should start by saying hi properly and they kiss, and when they pull back they just look at each other whispering “salut”. Axel said he was upset at David for cutting the scene because it was so soft and intimate, he called him when he watched the episode to ask why he cut it, but it would have been too repetitive with the following Lundi 17h21 clip.

Lundi 17h21 is the second clip Maxence shot. Lucas’s “T’es beau quand tu rigoles” wasn’t scripted, Axel changed the script, he was supposed to say something about liking seeing Eliott smile.

The Je t’aime scene: the first shot they did was the most emotional one, it was one of the hardest scenes emotionally for Axel. He was crying so so much, he had tears and snot everywhere, and Maxence was just wiping it away so tenderly that David thought about keeping that shot but the snot was REALLY disgusting so they didn’t keep it. They shot it a few more times, except that then Maxence had to leave. So the shot of Lucas saying Moi aussi is actually to David. Axel said it didn’t feel weird because he does love David so it felt true.

SEASON 4

Assa sat down with the team before they wrote anything for the season and told them her whole life story. It lasted 4 hours and she cried when reading the script because they had included so many things she had told them, it felt like her and Imane were one.

Making Assa dance was Philippine’s idea. David asked her what she thought about when thinking of Assa, something that was really her and Philippine said “Dada, you should see her dance”

Moussa and Assa knew each other before since they had filmed together 5 years prior, a movie in which they already were siblings. They feel like siblings in real life.

The worst clip to shoot was on Lais’s first day of shooting, it was the bus clip. The shooting conditions were terrible, there was too much noise, and the crew was tired from having shot the 3 bus stop clips from season 3 earlier that day. David was convinced there would be nothing to save and they would have to rent another bus but the team worked their magic in post prod and it turned out amazing.

They shot the scene with Imane, Lucas and Eliott in class the day after Halloween. Maxence was at a party the night before and lost track of time. He had to take a taxi straight from the party to the set at 6am and showed up in full zombie costume and makeup.

Charles come back: it had been cloudy and raining all day but the moment the camera was on the girls’ faces, a ray of sunlight appeared and the wind blew in their hair, making it a real dramatic moment. Too good to pass on, it’s the shot they kept.

The fight between Lucas and Eliott that we vaguely hear in the background was just gibberish. Axel and Maxence hadn’t prepared anything and Axel just ended up shouting at Maxence things like YOU LIED TO ME BEFORE ABOUT LUCILLE YOU MIGHT BE DOING IT AGAIN ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE and Maxence NO I WOULD NEVER - BUT YOU DID - NO I WOULDN’T - YES YOU DID - NO and they kept going in circles so David was like “guys…. please, you might want to start screaming about something else or this is gonna sound very repetitive” but in the end we can barely hear anything so it didn’t matter much

When Alex comes to pick up Emma to go to the cinema, Assa had a break down and couldn’t stop laughing, hiding under a blanket and making all the girls laugh too with her. David had to scold them a bit to get them to stop.

Lais also ruined a clip by laughing for 15 minutes straight, it’s the clip at Imane’s house when they talk about the fair. It was the longest 15 minutes of the crew’s life. 

The oui oui song during Daphné’s birthday party wasn’t planned, the team just lost control of the cast. Axel started it and everyone followed. The cast are actually terrible extras. They are too dramatic and noticeable in the background so party scenes like Daphné’s birthday were a nightmare to shoot. 

Assa and Laïs rehearsed the Unknown dance clip every chance they got between every take, everyone kept tripping on them in the corridors.

The last sequences they filmed were actually the last clips at Imane’s house for the Eïd. Axel isn’t in the last shot because he had to leave for his play. He actually ruined the very last clip of season 4 by shouting his goodbyes to David from across the corner.

SEASON 5

The auditions for season 5 and 6 were held in June. Lucas was spotted through his youtube channel and asked to audition. 

Coline learned sign language by herself after an initiation class with the whole team. She started signing in July and has been practicing ever since. Robin took a one week class in September and then kept practicing by himself and with the D/deaf people on set. David and the rest of the team also took an initiation class.

Robin doesn’t like water and was anxious about the scenes in the pool. David got in the water with Xavier, Robin and Winona to reassure him and direct them better. They limited the number of extras around the pool because of that.

The place where Eliott works is where David used to work when he was younger.

Coline wrote a song for the season

They couldn’t leave the mural in the high school so they took it off the wall (it wasn’t actually painted on the wall itself) and cut it into pieces. There are a few pieces framed on the walls of Lucas and Eliott’s flat.

[stahlop]

Making a Memory (12/12) Epilogue

This is it guys! The final chapter. More of an epilogue. But it's finally done! I'm so grateful for everyone who has encouraged me to write this story and for those that have written wonderful comments about it. I could never have imagined such a response when I originally just had a Parent Trap idea that then turned into a cursed Emma and Killian idea.

Thank you so much to @profdanglaisstuff​ and @thisonesatellite​ for being my betas on this. You two and @mariakov81​ encouraged me so much to write this and I couldn't imagine it would turn into this great big MC when I did.

Also thank you to @gingerchangeling​ for the header for this story and to @mariakov81​ for the drawing that she drew me for my birthday that went with this story.

And thank you to the @cssns​ for having this event so I actually had a reason to write this instead of just having the idea in my head.

So without further ado, the epilogue to Making a Memory.

Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

Ao3

It always amazed Alice that in her Papa’s cursed persona he obviously still had the love for the ocean but had never rented a boat and taken her out on a cruise around the Boston Harbor. She could see how much he’d missed it when Henry came back from the Enchanted Forest a few months after the curse had broken, with the Jolly Roger. It was the least he could do after having lost it in the first place, Henry had said as if it were no big deal (although Alice saw him patching himself up later on, the cuts and bruises from an obvious sword fight he’d had to endure to get the Jolly Roger back).

The first time Killian took them out on the water, he dressed himself in his full Captain Hook ensemble. Emma had laughed an almost girlish laugh and blushed, something that horrified both Hope and Henry, but Alice thought it was cute. Henry may have been there for their parents' romance originally, and Hope may not have cared much for it, but Alice loved finally having two parents that were so hopelessly in love. Although, Alice wished her Papa had a few more buttons done up. She supposed that was just the fashion for pirates in the Enchanted Forest.

Their first trip happened the following spring. Killian spent the entire winter fixing the Jolly Roger up on the weekends (when the weather permitted), as he and Emma had gone back to being deputies since they’d returned. There was obviously already a sheriff, seeing as Emma had been gone for twelve years, but Sheriff Javert welcomed them back, having remembered them from before they’d been cursed, and because he felt the Three Musketeers weren’t the best deputies (too many hijinx for his taste). Regina putting in a good word for them not only as the mayor, but as Javert’s girlfriend, didn’t hurt either.

And so it became a tradition for the Swan-Jones/Mills family to take a cruise around Storybrooke’s harbor every weekend once the weather permitted.

Alice could still remember how overwhelming it had been to meet everyone for the first time; her shyness and anxiety ramping up as they’d walked down to the center of town, the orange moon hanging in the air (Alice didn’t know if she’d ever be able to see the Harvest Moon without Gothel hanging in front of it ever again). A large amount of people had been milling around, hugging each other and screaming as if they hadn’t seen each other in a long time. Alice guessed they hadn’t really. Even if they’d seen each other everyday, they hadn’t really seen each other. Just like their parents hadn’t known who the other was until their memories had broken through.

Alice recognized Snow White and Prince Charming right off the bat, not only from the illustrations in Henry’s books, but from the old photographs in Henry’s photo album that she and Hope loved to look through. Their parents had purposefully avoided running into them when they’d permanently moved there. Something about it being too painful to not see any recognition in their eyes. They turned around, both of their eyes glittering with tears as they had slowly approached Emma. Snow had taken her daughter’s chin in her hands, tears streaming from both of them, and then enveloped her in a huge hug.

“You found us.” Snow had cried, and Emma let out a breath she probably hadn’t even known she’d been holding as David joined them in the hug, cradling Emma’s head with his hand. The whole town seemed to applaud their reunion and the end of the curse breaking. Alice may have gotten a little teary-eyed over the whole thing.

Of course, they were just Grandma and Grandpa now. Alice still found it weird that she had grandparents, and that they were around the same age as her own parents.

“Still think you can captain this ship, old man?” Snow and David had arrived, and David never could stop ribbing Killian about how he finally looked his age. I don’t look 300 years old, mate! he’d reply, always trying to suppress a smile. Alice knew he actually liked the ribbing. Also, her Papa was over 300-years-old. Weird.

“If he’s an old man then so are you, Dad,” Emma said, coming up from below deck. She had put her hair back in a simple braid, just like Alice and Hope had, so their hair didn’t get tangled during the trip. “Here Mom, let me help you with that food.” Snow, as Alice and Hope had discovered, loved to cook, and usually cooked enough to leave them leftovers for weeks.

“Don’t worry about it, Emma.” She said, handing off some of the plastic containers to her. “Neal and Eva have everything else. They’re right behind me.” Of course, twelve years later Emma’s baby brother would be sixteen (they’d just recently celebrated his seventeenth birthday that past May), but discovering that she now had an eleven-year-old sister had been a huge shock.  I must have been pregnant with her when Gothel enacted the curse. Snow had told Emma almost guiltily.

Alice was hiding out up in the crow’s nest, a favorite place of hers. She could still see and hear everything, but sometimes the throng of her family felt suffocating. A hand clasped hers which put Alice at ease. She hadn’t even heard Hope come up. “You doing okay?” Hope asked. 

“Can you believe it’s been a year since we met?” Alice said, avoiding the question Hope had asked her. It was the cause for the festivities this weekend. While they did go out each weekend on the Jolly, there usually wasn’t this much pomp and circumstance (or food) to go along with it.

“I hated you so much.” Hope giggled. It seemed almost impossible that she could have ever hated her sister.

“Well, you weren’t such a walk in the park either,” Alice joshed back, nudging her with her shoulder slightly. 

“Girls!” Emma called from the deck, the food having been all set up buffet style. “Come on down and eat before Dad takes the ship out.” Alice and Hope looked at each other, hands still clasped and floated down from the crow’s nest. 

“Always showing off.” Regina mumbled, setting up her lasagna on the table, while Mary Margaret fussed over them like she always did. It was like she was trying to make up for all the years they’d been separated every single time they saw each other. Hope was kind of annoyed by it, never having cared for being fussed over, but Alice secretly loved it.

“Look how big you two are getting. I swear you’ve grown two inches since I last saw you. We’ll have to go shopping again” Mary Margaret gushed.

“You just saw us yesterday, Grandma.” Hope rolled her eyes as she let go of Alice’s hand and headed over to the table to grab some food.

The twins’ 14th birthday had arrived a week after they’d defeated Gothel and Mary Margaret had literally bought out the few clothing stores in town with anything that fit them. Alice had never been so doted on in her life. You realize that if we were in the Enchanted Forest we’d be getting you ready for your first royal balls. Snow had sighed during the shopping trip. She insisted for their 16th birthday they would have a ball of some sort with real ballgowns and dancing. Alice was elated and Hope was horrified. Snow had just laughed about how much like her mother she was, and that she fell in love with their father at a ball, despite everything.

They all sat around on the deck stuffing their faces with delicious food. The kids and Henry all sitting together, watching and commenting on the adults. Like how Regina and Javert fought all the time, but that just apparently fueled their fire (ew). Or Snow and David always had an eye on the other one no matter where they were. Or how Killian was always stroking a lock of Emma’s hair and she loved playing with the hair on the nape of his neck (“Do they always have to be so obvious about it?” Hope complained. “You know you love it.” Henry retorted back.). They also teased Neal about his crush on Lexi Herman (apparently the daughter of Cinderella), and how he’d spectacularly been shot down when asking her to prom a few months ago (“She’s 20. In a few years the age difference won’t matter to her.” Henry had said matter-of-factly.).

After everyone finished eating and the food was packed away in the refrigerator that was in the Captain’s quarters (August had wired up the Jolly Roger with electricity as well), Killian took the Jolly out to cruise around Storybrooke Harbor. Killian had been teaching Alice and Hope how to steer the ship. Hope didn’t seem all that interested, but Alice was thrilled (must have had something to do with the whole manipulating water powers that she had). The weight of the ship’s wheel in her hands and the feel of the wooden planks beneath her feet had brought her a sense of comfort she’d never known in her life before. Her Papa had her guide the ship once they’re far enough from land for him to worry about her hitting anything (okay, so she hit the floating dock that one time…), and he went to stand by Emma as she looked out over the water.

After the battle and the curse ending it had been like starting over again. All of a sudden Hope and Alice had been thrust into the limelight. They’d gone from being those new twins from Boston to the twins who had magic and had defeated Gothel. The daughters of the Savior and Captain Hook. Alice could no longer meld into the background like she had been and Hope now had to deal with people wanting to be her friends who were less than genuine (although, she’d still managed to find a boyfriend in Lexi’s younger brother, Ryan). Their peers hadn’t grown up with magic like everyone else in the town had and it had affected many of the children who had no idea about the Enchanted Forest; unlike the previous curse in which all the children actually had their memories restored and knew about everything. Dr. Hopper had been very busy in helping children believe their background was actually rooted in fairy tales and that didn’t make them insane. The trips on the Jolly Roger helped ground Alice (which she found completely ironic), made her feel safe, and more in tune with reality.

Finding out that she had a twin had been strange enough, but finding out she was the granddaughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, the daughter of the Savior and Captain Hook, sister to the storybook author, and somewhat adjacently related to the Evil Queen was just plain out of this world. And Alice loved their family, but never in a million years would she have dreamed that she would have the large family she’d now acquired. After everything had been said and done, Hope told her she must have been a little psychic as well, after all, she had claimed to have dreamed about many of the people in the Enchanted Forest before Henry’s book had even been published. Hope almost seemed jealous that Alice had had their family with her long before she’d even known they existed. 

“You’re doing wonderful, Starfish,” Killian said, extricating himself from Emma and coming back over to the wheel. “Why don’t you take a break and go hang out with your sister.” He ruffled her hair and gave her a peck on the top of her head. It was still a complete trip for her to imagine that her Papa had once been the notorious Captain Hook, even after seeing him in full pirate regalia.

She settled herself on a large amount of pillows where Hope and Henry were hanging out (Papa had a thing about pillows, lots and lots of pillows everywhere), but could still see the ocean. Alice could tell that Papa was getting ready to bring the Jolly back toward Storybrooke, so she leaned back and just watched the water fly by. 

“So, a year, huh?” Henry asked right as she’d gotten herself comfortable. Both Alice and Hope turned their heads toward him, smiling.

“Was it as you thought it would be?” Hope wondered. “Finding us, getting us to believe, and fighting Gothel?”

“Honestly, I had a hundred different scenarios in my head as to how things could have gone. I’m just glad we all survived it and no one got hurt. I’m just glad I ended up with my dad and both of my sisters.” Henry was almost blushing. His sequel to Once Upon a Time had been another best seller. Emma’s Story had brought his audience into the modern world while already knowing the fairy tales were true. There was even talk about making his books into a movie or television series (Alice voted for television series, she couldn’t imagine how they’d get that much information into a movie). His last book in the series was going to be published in a few months, on their 15th birthday of all days. The story of how Lianna Jones and Faith Swan (names changed, obviously) had met at camp and then had come together to defeat Gothel while the beloved town of Storybrooke had no clue who they really were. Once Upon a Time: A Happy Beginning.

“I’m glad we survived too.” Hope said, rolling her eyes. “And I’m glad we have our entire family together. I always thought it would just be us and mom, I’m glad we got the full package deal.” She laughed as she really thought about it. “Who would have guessed that my urge to want to go to sleep away camp would end with me finding my long-lost twin and father?” 

“Or that we’d be related to fairy tale characters.” Alice chimed in.

“And that we’d have magic.” Hope said as she created a green spark from her hand (green like her mother and grandmother’s eyes).

How different one year made. Last year all Alice and Hope had worried about was school and friends. Never in a million years would they have thought they would be surrounded by such a large family. Never in a million years would they have thought they’d have each other.

And at that thought, both girls stood up to look at their family on the ship (it still took them by surprise how in sync their thoughts were), the family that only a year ago they didn’t know they had. It almost brought tears to their eyes (yes, even Hope who had finally let some of those walls down to let love in). They both breathed in the salty sea air that they now associated with their father. 

“What are you two up to?” asked Henry as he watched them from his spot on the deck.

“We’re making a memory,” they both answered. They smiled as they watched their mother lean in to give their father a kiss as he steered the ship back toward the dock.

Back to Storybrooke.

Their home.

Tag List: (Let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@profdanglaisstuff​​​​​​ @thisonesatellite​​​​​​ @mariakov81​​​​​​ @hollyethecurious​​​​​​ @winterbaby89​​​​​​ @jennjenn615​​​​​​ @kmomof4​​​​​​ @superchocovian​​​​​​ @lfh1226-linda​​​​​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​​​​​ @cssns​​​​​​ @itsfabianadocarmo​​​​​​ @xsajx​​​​​​  @qualitycoffeethings​​​​​​​ @snowbellewells​​​​​​ @courtorderedcake​ @klynn-stormz​

[thirsty-x1]

Walking In The Winter | Kim Wooseok

Request:

Can I request a Wooseok scenario in which the reader is a single parent and both of them have known each other for a long time. Wooseok starts to get closer to the reader as well as the child gradually and the once suppressed feelings of both the reader and Wooseok, towards each other start to return stronger than ever. Fluff please ^_^

↬ Pairing: Wooseok x fem!reader.

↬ Genre: Fluff, super slight past Angst?

↬ Warnings: Wooseok being too fucking cute?

↬ Word Count: 4.3k

↬ Song Recommendation: “Walking in the Winter” by Yun Ddan Ddan. Originally I was going for another title but after reading the lyrics it fit too well... plus Wooseok is obsessed with this song and that’s adorable.

The tiredness spread on every inch of your body, the pain making itself notice with each step you took while going upstairs, the view of the hall becoming slightly comforting as you searched for the keys in your purse. Before unlocking the door, you took a deep breath, trying to put on your best face and getting in to be greeted with a walking Wooseok that constantly shushed the asleep kid in his arms. When your friend heard the door closing, he turned around to give you a small smile, pointing a few times towards your child.

“Thank you for taking care of him today…” Leaving everything by the entrance, you silently went to him, extending your arms to grab your son and quickly taking him to your room.

As soon as you made sure he was sleeping comfortably and kissed his forehead, you went back to the living room. You were about to grab your wallet when Wooseok stopped you.

“How many times do I need to tell you that this isn’t necessary?” His hands were gentle as he put the money down. Just then was that you noticed the small cut under his right eye.

Getting closer to examine it, you held his chin. “What happened to you?” He blinked a few times, the words not coming out and making you notice the rushed action, instantly pulling away while muttering an apology.

“Ah, I must have gotten it with him… he really likes to play with my face.” Wooseok let out a small laugh as he tapped his skin a few times and checked his fingertips.

“Must be because you have such pretty eyes.” He lowered his gaze, hiding the light blush on his cheeks. “Wait here, I will go look for something to cure it.”

There was no place for him to deny your offer this time as you left him alone, grabbing the first aid kit you kept close just in case and telling him to sit down on the couch. Imitating him, you faced him, cleaning the tiny wound and blowing on it when the alcohol made Wooseok flinch, your expression distracting him from the stinging. He would be lying if he denied that his heartbeat got faster with your every touch, so lost in the moment that it almost surprised him that it was over so soon. Now he felt the bandit on the place and held back a laugh as you took a picture of him and showed how it looked, the Doraemon design making a fun contrast on his usually serious face.

“Thank you.”

“I think it might leave a scar though…”

He scoffed at the mention. “It’s fine, really, don’t worry about it.” His phone rang and right after he picked up his stuff. “Ah, I think it’s pretty late so I should get going–”

A sound coming from the bed room interrupted both of you, making you sigh as you got up. Of course you missed sharing more time with your kid, but it became a bit hard to do so when you came after work, your body and mind not being ready to handle with it even if that’s what you wanted with all your might.

“You can go Wooseok, thank you so much–”

He shook his head. “Let me help and then I’ll go, you look too tired.” Ah, so he noticed. His pace got quicker towards the bedroom. “Besides, you don’t need to thank me every time, it’s been two months already.”

With a slight chuckle, you dragged your feet behind him, laying down next to the small body of your son and playing with his hair as he let out a few cries. Apparently, he had a nightmare and since he was alone, he got scared.

“What’s your plan?”

Your question made Wooseok roll his eyes as if it wasn’t obvious, a sweet melody filling the room as he sang the lullaby you knew well. He was making some arrangements to the song, the beat becoming slower and somehow sadder, but it seemed to work nonetheless. However, like this you got to pay more attention to the lyrics, your sight fixed on his expression and how the feeling seemed to be completely different from other times he had sang it, but Wooseok stared at the way the kid’s eyelids started to close again at the sound of his voice.

When he finished, he looked your way, only to find you sleeping soundly just like the child next to you, the resemblance striking him as funny. He stood up, trying to not disturb you as he put a blanket over you and left the room, flicking the lights off. Grabbing a pen, he scribbled a message on one of the notebooks he had used to color with his new favorite person and grabbed his keys, more like the ones you had given him in case an emergency happened and left the apartment.

The cold breeze reminded him of the song, scoffing annoyed at the lyrics. Well, he wasn’t annoyed at the song itself, but rather the memories it brought to him. It hadn’t been long since you two got in contact again… Years had passed since he heard your name, but three months ago that had changed when he crossed paths with that asshole. No, it wasn’t his intention to listen to his conversation, but he couldn’t quite help himself when he started talking about you with his friends, laughing at the mention of how he had cheated on you and you asking him to leave. After that, he tried to somehow find you, knowing that you would most probably need someone’s help, and at the time he didn’t think about others being able to lend a hand. Maybe it was because he wanted to be the one to be there for you, to fulfill the promise he made when you two were young, or maybe he simply wanted an excuse to see you again. He wasn’t quite sure, even to this day.

But he didn’t need to understand it. He tried to convince himself about it. Letting go of you had been extremely painful for him, and now that he was able to be with you again, he didn’t want to ruin it. So, he didn’t need to understand his feelings now. It wasn’t the time to be selfish.

Ignoring the freezing cold, he put on his air pods and hit the play button, scoffing once again as his healing song started playing. Without putting much resistance, he started walking, humming to the melody while doing it so.

When you walk, your heart will tell you. Wooseok didn’t need to understand, but he really hoped his heart would tell him whether he was doing the right thing or not this time.

It was one of those miraculous days where you got to go home early, your mood brightening even if there was still some tiredness in your system. The reason? Because you would be able to spend some time with your beloved son, and maybe get to spend some time with Wooseok, invite him to have dinner now that you got the time to prepare it, just as a way to thank him for all the help he had provided you the past few months.

You weren’t expecting his call that day, nor any other day, if you had to be honest. It had been some years since you last saw him, things between you not ending well and that weighed you, but there was nothing any of you could have done to avoid it. After your ex and father of your son left, you felt a little bit lost, almost instantly regretting your decisions when the screen of your phone lit up with an unknown number. Slightly scared of it belonging to him, you picked up, your eyes filling with tears as the familiar low voice greeted on the other side of the line, wondering if it was your phone number. Of course he went silent the second you said yes, the awkwardness lingering in the air before he proceeded to ask how you were, and since then none touched the topic about what had happened once a long time ago.

Maybe because both of you knew what happened, and understood each other and your reasons to have done that. You were pregnant, and at the moment you thought about prioritizing family… how were you supposed to know that the man next to you would turn out to be an ungrateful asshole? And although kicking him out pained you, in the end you hoped to have taken the best decision, both for you and for the future of your son, but even then the thought of him asking for his father someday hunt you every day.

Reaching for the doorknob, you breathed in, collecting yourself as you opened the door and heard a cheering scream followed by tiny steps running towards you. The bags on your arms almost fell to the floor as you picked up the overjoyed kid, not caring about the paint in his small hands staining your clothes and kissing his plump cheeks. Wooseok stood up from the floor, giving you a small nod as a greeting before he helped you out with the groceries, taking them to the kitchen and starting to put everything in its place. The subtle detail made you smile; nothing had seemed to change between you two, and it made you happy. It was as if you had never stopped being friends, as if he had never left, making himself comfortable in your apartment after the six months you had shared together.

“Thank you for babysitting him again.” Wooseok sighed frustrated but shook his head the same way he had the last two months, giving up telling you to stop doing that.

The kid in your arms held your face, his fingers leaving a trace of paint along the bridge of your nose before laughing hysterically. “Hyung and I have been painting! Want to see?”

You giggled at his enthusiasm, getting closer to the table where a spectrum of different drawings were spread. Your son pointed out the fox, the cat and the wolf that he drew, ignoring what seemed to be panels that told a story in a similar way to a comic, the style reminiscing you of the drawings that Wooseok used to make when you were young. Right as you were about to read it, delicate fingers covered the paper, your friend coming back just in time to have you more intrigued about the story.

Trying to ignore it, you complimented the rest of the paintings. “You did so well! Aren’t you a whole artist? I think you deserve a prize…” His eyes got bigger waiting for it. “A thousand kisses!”

The whole room was filled with his vibrating chuckles as you snuggled and pressed your lips to his cute face, Wooseok smirking as he saw you two, warmth spreading through his body before remembering he was staying more time than what was needed.

“I should go now–”

“Hyung deserves kisses too!” The innocent demand made you both stop. “He also drew a lot and he’s good, right?”

How to explain this to a four year old? “Well, yes, but–” You could already sense the grumpy expression coming and that usually was followed by a waterfall of questions, so you simply leaned in and pressed a kiss on Wooseok’s cheek.

“That was one kiss.” What a witty kid. “And you should do it like in dramas!” His body stretched to grab one of the drawings by the older to show you an example, but what was pictured made your cheeks burn.

It had been a memorable day for him too, apparently.

“Those kisses are for special people!” Wooseok’s voice got high pitched as he snatched the paper as delicately as he could in order to not scare the kid. “Friends don’t give those to each other.”

The frown on the child’s face grew. “But mom said you were someone special for her.”

“N-no, I didn’t say that–”

“Yes, you did! After the first time hyung came home!” His memory was a blessing when you were forgetting to take something to your work, but right now it was closer to become a curse than anything else.

“Playtime is over, go wash your hands so that you help me cook, yes?” Sighing in defeat, he ran to the bathroom as soon as you put him on the ground, the mention of food distracting him enough to forget the recent argument.

You walked to the kitchen, ignoring Wooseok’s lingering gaze as you ran the water in the kitchen and scrubbed the rests of paint off your hands.

But he had to clear his throat. “So I’m a special person to you, huh?” That was something you wished had changed: his teasing nature.

“Uh, yeah…” The hesitation in your voice was obvious as you turned around to face him, not expecting him to be that close. “Am I?”

By the way his eyes started shaking, you could say he wasn’t ready for a comeback. Even if he hadn’t changed much, you did, and it appeared as if he was noticing it just now. However, his actions didn’t waver as he took a few tissues behind you, dampening them with water and pressing them against your face, cleaning what your son had left.

“You always were.”

It was hard to breathe if he stared at you with such intensity that made you forget how to even pronounce words, the sincerity sounding too real for you to brush it off as a joke. Thankfully, his phone received a message, giving you the perfect opportunity to turn around and hide the blush in your face while grabbing what you needed to cook.

“Hyung, will you stay for dinner?” The small voice caused you to close your eyes, slightly cursing at yourself for not having asked that to Wooseok before.

“Ah, I don’t think I can tonight, buddy… maybe next time, yes?” He ruffled the little one’s hair before grabbing his stuff and walking to the door. “Sorry to leave so hurriedly but I have to be somewhere, is it–”

“Yes!” It wasn’t your intention to raise your voice like that, but the mix of emotions inside you was hard to control. “I mean, yeah… it’s totally fine, don’t worry.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“Mhmm.”

If you tried to talk again, you were almost sure that you wouldn’t be able to hide anything, so the only option was to give a short, simple answer. You could sense his hesitation but still the door closed behind you, the air becoming much lighter.

A sigh caught your attention. “I wanted hyung to stay…”

You smiled picking up the kid and handing him the plastic mixing bowl he liked to play with. “Me too, baby, me too.”

After that day, none of you exchanged more words or looks than necessary. He would get home right on time for you to go work, and as soon as he came he would say goodbye. The atmosphere had somehow became more awkward than the first day you met each other again, and it was hard for you to figure how to change it. Each time you were about to ask if he wanted to stay, he had already left the apartment, your anxiety increasing. You didn’t want him to think that you were merely using him as a babysitter, although you had to recognize that it helped you out quite a lot and even more during holidays.

The couch welcomed your body as you flipped the pages of one an album, the unusual silence making you feel lonely and causing you to come up with ways to find comfort, old photos apparently doing the work. You had asked for the day off and it was also the birthday of a friend of your kid, so you dropped him there early and now a good few hours awaited… but it had been so long since the last time you had an opportunity like this that you weren’t sure what to do.

Getting overwhelmed with the nostalgia, you left the photo album on top of the small table and went to your room, taking off the old pajamas and instead trying on a dress you hadn’t worn in a long time. It looked nice… and it also felt nice. You tried fixing your hair in different ways, laughing when you realized you had been making faces in front of the mirror for the past ten minutes.

A knock on the door interrupted your fun, nervousness starting to settle in your system while you tried to remember whether you had told Wooseok that he didn’t need to come today or not. When you got to the door, taking a glance through the peephole was enough to confirm your suspicions: you hadn’t. Hiding behind the door, you opened, him walking right inside with a heavy bag, stopping a second to take off his shoes and then continued, slumping down on the couch.

“I brought the games you asked for, kiddo, better come here before your mom leaves or… Wow.” His eyes finally looked your way when you closed the door, his mouth dropping open before he cleared his throat and stared at the bag he had. “Where is–”

“He had a birthday party today.” He froze. “And I have the day off.” You could see his posture change. “I forgot to tell you, I’m so sorry–”

Not a second later, he stood up, picking up the bag and walking to the entrance. “That’s fine, don’t worry, I’ll leave right now.”

This was your chance, and it was slipping right between your fingers, so you took it. His steps came to a halt, the grip on his sleeve making it impossible for him to move and you made the biggest effort to get over your fear.

“Would you like to stay?” Wooseok didn’t say anything. “You already came all the way here… and I’ve meant to thank you for these past months.” What a ridiculous excuse.

As if he could read your mind, he turned around, giving you a half smile. “I would like that.”

It was your turn to freeze, appreciating the small distance that separated both of your hands before waking up from the trance to go to the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“Mhmm.”

The silence prolonged, although the weird feeling that was present the other days had vanished. You weren’t sure if something changed, but it made you feel relieved. Quickly, you prepared a cup for each, smiling to yourself when you noticed you still remembered the way he liked it. When you turned around, he wasn’t behind you, but rather checking the album you were flipping through before on the couch. You handed him his cup, cautiously analyzing his expression when he took a sip of it and feeling warm when he smiled.

“Glad you like it.”

You sat next to him, getting comfortable as you peeped over his shoulder to see the picture he was staring at fondly, your heart tumbling seeing it was you and him years ago, the dress you were wearing looking more alive than now. And the look in your eyes was different too, even if it wasn’t evident because you were staring at Wooseok laughing, one of the few pictures you had of him doing it.

“You looked beautiful that day.” It seemed as if he was talking to himself, studying the picture and comparing it with his drawing. “Just like now.”

Taking compliments wasn’t your biggest talent and he knew that, flipping the page and stopping abruptly at the envelope that rested in the next one. The edges were worn out from the amount of times you had opened it to read the letter inside, the words in it becoming your healing song whenever you faced a hardship in the past.

“Ah, that–”

“I can’t believe you kept it.” His eyes looked sad as his fingers caressed his own calligraphy spelling your name on the front.

You had to swallow before answering. “It’s precious to me.”

“My confession letter?” He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “It was so bad.”

Even if he was talking about himself, it made you feel offended, grabbing it and holding it close to your chest. “It’s not!” Wooseok stared at you wide eyed. “The only bad thing was the timing.”

He couldn’t hold back his laugh. “You are right there… I don’t know what was I expecting.” He scratched the back of his head.

“The truth, I guess.”

“What?”

Was there any use in lying about it now? “Well, I liked you too… but I was already dating with–”

“The asshole.”

You chuckled. “Yeah.”

The silence grew between you two, but this time Wooseok was the one to cut it.

“You never told me.”

Shrugging, you caressed the letter. “When I had made up my mind, you had left and I was pregnant, so… I thought the right thing was to move on.”

Wooseok’s piercing gaze was fixed on you, but the confessions were too many for you to face him while saying it out loud, so you kept fidgeting with the end of your dress, remembering how he had complimented you back then during your birthday party and how later his hands had been on the exact same place when you shared your first kiss. The next day you pretended nothing had happened, afraid to ruin the friendship, and it wasn’t until a year later that the paper between your hands confessed that he had done the exact same thing for the exact same reason. But it was too late.

“And what do you think is the right thing now?” You raised your head, finding Wooseok just a few centimeters away from you.

“I don’t know…” Your eyes dropped to his mouth. “I don’t think it matters, either.”

Just like that, his lips were on yours, the same feelings that invaded you that one time making themselves notice again. The electricity itched in your fingertips as the letter slipped of them, his hand resting on the back of your neck to bring you closer, stealing your breath right after you recovered it over and over again. You lost track of time, your chest welling up with all the repressed feelings as he held you between his arms, feeling weightless under his touch and becoming conscious of the burning sensation that his fingers left on your skin as he traced senseless figures on it.

When he finally pulled away, both shared the stupidest grins.

“That felt right, at least.”

Maybe it was the dress, or the kiss, or the situation, or simply Wooseok, but for the first time in years you laughed the way you did back then, and he did the same. Silently, you thanked to the objects next to you for helping you recreate a new cherished memory, although you were sure you wouldn’t need anything to remember this one.

The coffee went cold as the two of you kept talking about the past, confessing each other small secrets, some reminiscing of ancient times while others were incredibly recent, like him saying he was really happy when you cured the small wound on his face, or you telling him that you really loved his voice when he sang and that you wanted to hear it again since that night, or him explaining that the reason why he always left was because he didn’t trust his friend Seungyoun to take care of his apartment not one bit (sometimes threatening him to move his whole studio there).

A familiar melody caught your attention, making you grab your phone and pick up the call ignoring Wooseok’s mocking faces (“that’s my song”), nodding a few times before hanging up.

“The party is about to finish… do you want to walk with me there? It’s not very far away from here.”

“Sure, but under one condition.” You hummed for him to continue as you got up. “Keep the dress on. It really looks pretty on you.”

If it weren’t because you were in a rush, you would have called him out on his cheesiness, but secretly you appreciated it. “Shut up.”

Not ten minutes later you were already walking down the street, close to each other without being able to erase your silly grins from your faces. As you got close to the address, you saw your son running towards you, immediately blabbering about all he had done during the day and greeting Wooseok as if nothing. A few blocks later, he was complaining about walking, saying he was too tired for it and demanding to be picked up and of course Wooseok gave in immediately, the child falling asleep on his shoulder in record time as you continued walking. You felt a small touch on your hand, turning to see the male’s fingers hitting yours on purpose while pretending to look away until you finally held his hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

“You know…” His voice was soft as if to not wake up the toddler. “I could get used to this.” His eyes dropped to your hands and then to his other arm holding your kid. “If you agree on it, of course.”

The tightness in your throat didn’t let you answer, just like the day he had handed you the letter, but this time you simply nodded and kissed the back of his hand, ignoring the pressure in your chest. “I would like that.”

Wooseok pressed his lips together, his eyes becoming small as he tried to hide his happiness.

“I would like that too.”

A sleepy voice added its opinion: “Me too!”

I’m... quite proud of this one. Yes, it’s fucking long for the kind of stories I tend to write but it just;; happened;;; I really hope you enjoyed it tho kasjkdjks. I was going to try and make the child gender neutral but since I wanted them to interact plenty with the kid I just went for he/him pronouns to fit the gif ^^;

~Nani

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[ilcaeryx]

Tenacity: Chapter 10 - Kingpin [Bakugou Katsuki/Reader]

SUMMARY: You should not have challenged Katsuki to a snowball fight. What did you expect? To win? LUL 

TAGS: Bakugou Katsuki/Reader, reader-insert, comfort, soft, fluff, romance, reader being a crazy bitch, snowball fight, cheesy

NOTES: Part of the Tenacity reader-insert compilation! I had fun writing this.

Taking a shortcut through the still and untouched forest sucked, Katsuki veering off from your usual route into it without a word. Like a baby duck struggling after mama duck, you followed his literal footsteps. You bounced from leg to leg, fitting your boot inside the larger imprints he left behind. Snow had fallen during the night, evident by everything being covered in white powder. It could have been the secret palace of a drug lord, snow adorning the branches and dead vegetation causing gentle billows beneath the matte glow.

“Do we have to walk through the snow? We could’ve taken the normal way,” you complained, glaring down at your burning thighs. Even with Katsuki paving the way, it was quite the workout.

“Why are you complaining?” Katsuki said, white breath trailing after him as if he were a dragon exhaling smoke. He shuffled through the thick snow layer with powerful strides and arms reinforcing the motions. “You’re not the one plowing the way.”

His dumb answer fired you up. In short succession, you trampled into the indentations until he was half a step ahead. You smacked his behind with whatever force you could muster, the glove softening the slap. “I don’t care, you brute. This is a workout routine I did not want.”

Katsuki had the nerve to send you an indignant glare over his shoulder, nose bridge scrunched. “Don’t follow next time then, dumbass.”

“You know that’s not an option.”

If he went somewhere, you’d tread in his footsteps regardless of where you would end up. Whether he knew this or not, you would never let him out of sight. As long as his back was visible, you’d keep moving towards it.

“Everything’s a choice, quit bitching.” Katsuki grasped a low-hanging branch obstructing the way and bent it to the side as he continued onwards. He waited until you were past it to release it, branch swooping to its original position. Without breaking a sweat, he kept going.

Your lungs sparkled with pain, every inhalation bringing raw, crispy air through your airways. You hid your mouth and nose beneath your winter jacket’s collar, alleviating the pain by breathing out hot air.

Katsuki hadn’t noticed that you had stopped, so you scooped up snow and hardened it between your fingerless mittens into a nice ball. Aiming carefully, you threw it and hit him square between the shoulders. It left traces of white on his black double-breasted jacket. He stopped in his tracks and ditched his hands into his pockets.

“Stop walking so fast,” you said, voice muffled behind cloth. “I’m about to die.”

He turned around, his cheeks reddened from the cold. “Power through it.”

You bent down and created yet another snowball, padding it within your palms.

“If you throw that, I’ll return the favour,” Katsuki warned, eyebrows shooting up in a quick display of aggression.

Yeah, yeah… Whatever you say, blondie. You’re bluffing, you thought. He genuinely did use everything at his disposal whenever he felt someone challenged him, including you, so you could be on thin ice depending on his mood.

“Your aim is trash,” you outright stated in a matter-of-fact tone, deadpanning through the cockiness inside you.

Once he started moving towards you, you instantly regretted everything and screamed, because his full-toothed grin and low posture exuded confidence.

Fuck this shit, he was going to kick your ass to outer space. You backtracked your footsteps in a frantic dash, ducking beneath branches and sliding across icy parts.

“Why are you running?” he bellowed. “I’m gonna fucking destroy you! Die!”

His taunts caused your screaming to increase in pitch and you didn’t turn around to see whether it amused him or not. This game made you feel thrill and actual fear.

“Fight, Y/N! Fight me, you coward!”

“NO!” Your screaming caught in your throat as your body jerked backwards, reflexes trying to keep you upright. You flailed around and hit the ground, fall broken by your thick jacket.

The crunchiness of footsteps ceased and a pair appeared in your field of view. Katsuki slid down onto his knees and snatched your hands, joining them behind your back in an automatic, trained movement.

“Gotcha.” 

“I’m sorry!” you pleaded through your nervous laughter, thrashing your arms against his solid grip. It didn’t hurt but you wouldn’t get away without his approval.

“I’m sure you are.”

The pressure from your wrists eased and you drew your arms forward, pressure replaced by him collapsing his upper body over your back, your bodies forming a T. You groaned when he put one elbow on your lower back. Your breathing was somewhat constrained.

“Heavy!” you complained, clumsily hitting him with an open hand on his side.

Katsuki barked out a laugh. “Should’ve thought of that before you hit me with a snowball, lightweight.”

You heard him dig around in the snow behind you. His glove presented a handful in front of you and you attempted to shield your exposed neckline with your arms.

“Sucker,” he said and forced his hand between your chest-bone and shirt, snow spreading across your chest and into your bra. You shrieked in surprise from the cold and you instinctively brought your hands up to dig out the snow. That earned you another fistful in the nape, Katsuki pressing it down between your shoulder blades, the snow absolutely burning against your warm skin. He didn’t relent as you struggled beneath him, howling and shrieking. At last he rubbed snow all over your hair. When he felt like he’d had enough retribution, he pushed himself off you, breathing suddenly a simple task.

“It burns,” you said, throwing off your gloves to remove whatever snow hadn’t melted. “You got snow into my bra, Katsuki.”

He settled down again, his knees digging into the ground.

“Next time, I hope you’ll think twice before trying being a jackass,” he said, roughly brushing snow away from your hair. 

You crawled up into sitting position, sneering at him. He scoffed at you, scooting closer.

Katsuki flicked his index and middle fingers in an inward motion, his gloves making the movement seem graceless. “Sit up, Y/N. I’ll get it out for you.”

You bent your head towards him and he untangled the snow clumps from your messy hair. Soon the water was absorbed by your clothes and your hair gathered into a terrible looking mess.

“It’s unfair that I can’t fight you on equal terms,” you said, trying to comb your hair with numb fingers.

“That’s what everyone says.”

You opened your mouth in mock surprise, drawing your brows together. “Such hubris.”

Katsuki lowered himself onto his back, contemplating the sky above.

“One day I’ll let you win,” he said and shut his eyes. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“I don’t want your pity win.” You gave up on your hair with a sigh. Once you got home, you’d have to brush it properly or it’d be a bitch to untangle later. 

“That’s a good attitude.”

“I get enough pity from everyone else by dating you, so I don’t need any from you.”

You squealed when he thrashed up towards you and clamped his teeth on your thigh, delicately biting down. He let go, resting his cheek against you. It was impossible to resist giving his hair a few light tugs.

“Pity, huh?” he said and rested a hand on your opposite thigh. “The peasants can say all they want. In the end, I’m the one who got the girl. They can stay salty for all I care.”

“If I had by chance ended up with someone else, would I have been a peasant too?”

“Don’t kid yourself.” Katsuki’s hands slid around your waist, joining together behind your back. “That would never have happened. I’m the only one that can handle you; you’re too damn crazy for just about anyone else.”

Your body bloomed in pangs of heat, your chest and the pit of your stomach aching in a pleasant way. Hoping he wouldn’t see your giddy smile, you brushed some snow off his back. “Same goes for you.”

“Damn right, baby.”

Your waist protested when he released you and you felt like this moment had passed by too fast. The wet cloth rubbed uncomfortably against your skin as you also got up. “I’m cold.”

Katsuki eyed your front, snow lodged everywhere. 

Yes, that was all you, you napkin, you commented inside your head.

“You should head back home,” he said, grasping your cheek with his fingers and tugging gently. Reluctantly, he added, “I’ll get the stuff we need myself.”

“I told you before, I’m not going anywhere without you.”

His face became blank, an empty mirage reflecting your own serious one. For some reason, you perceived glow of admiration in his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice slightly thicker than before, “I know.”

I hope you all enjoyed it, please like and/or reblog if you did!

I listened to Baby Don't Stop by NCT U while writing the draft, which worked tbh, and Pied Piper by BTS during the re-write.

[imagine-loki]

Winter's Hearts

TITLE: Winter’s Hearts CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 53/? AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine being Loki’s old friend/Lover in Asgard, but you left for Earth a long time ago. For all he knows, you might be dead, but you’re still alive and you’ve been working with SHIELD and/or the Avengers. RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS:  Also on AO3: Click here

“Do you think he knows-?” Thor started to ask.  You and Loki both drew your daggers at the same time and held them to his throat.  Your movements were identical and spoke to your long years of training together.  Loki couldn’t take you when you were really trying to spar him, but a lot of his fighting style was the same as yours.  Including your ability to draw a dagger in an instant and have it held to Thor’s throat.

“If he doesn’t, then there is no need to inform him,” Loki snarled at his brother while you both held daggers to his throat.  You didn’t know if Odin knew you told Hela’s story to the boys.  There was no need to mention it in the presence of Hugin or Munin.  They would report to Odin and then he definitely would know that you’d told one of his many secrets.  And he wouldn’t be pleased about that.

“And if he does?” Thor protested, trying to get your blades away from his throat.  

“Then we will deal with it when we get home,” Loki replied firmly.  Thor gulped and nodded his agreement, the movement nearly imperceptible since he didn’t want to slice his own throat open on your blades.  You nodded and stood up, vanishing your blade as you did.  Loki followed suit a moment later, once he was sure Thor wouldn’t be a moron for once.  

“We should get home and see what he does want,” you said and used magic to change your clothes into your everyday armor.  It was the black set of armor with the blue cape, not the formal white set that you abhorred. Seriously, the white armor was ugly, did nothing to hide dirt and blood, and looked gaudy with the gold in it as well.   You hated being such an obvious target.  The wings were bad enough to get all of the bad guys heading after you.

Loki stood after you did and his clothes shimmered to his court attire.  He even changed Thor’s clothes for him to be appropriate for Asgard. 

You said your goodbyes to the team, hugging them carefully, making sure your skin didn’t touch theirs. You really didn’t want to kill or brutally frost burn your Midgardian friends.  You quite liked them after how much time you’d spent with them.  It had taken a lot of work to get to that point, but the team was practically family now.  

Family was something you’d missed desperately in your 900 years of exile. 

It meant all the more to you to have family again now.

You made your way out to the bifrost circle outside of the tower and Thor raised his hammer to call to Heimdall in his usual overdramatic way.  You held onto Loki as the bifrost opened around you and brought you back to Asgard, back home.  You took a moment to breathe in the realm when you arrived.  The air was so rich and full of magic.  Nothing in the nine worlds could compare to the feel of home.

Your group quickly headed to the palace, impatient to hear what Odin had to say.  You were all anxious.  Even Thor was as he kept sparking electricity.  You and Loki had to scold him a few times before he got it under control.  

You had a feeling you knew what this was about.

And none of you were prepared.

You strode up the aisle up to the throne and all bowed to the allfather seated on his throne, looking down at you all with an unreadable expression. “Rise, my sons, Lady Valkyrie,” you all rose. You couldn’t be upset with Odin’s term of address. It was the proper formal address for you.  You couldn’t be hurt that he wasn’t friendlier toward you, toward the woman who married his son.

Odin was always an ass.  He was the one who had banished you in the first place, just to protect his own secret.  Yes, you wished you could be on better terms with your father-in-law.  But it was never, ever going to happen.  You had come to accept that. 

At least Mama Frigga loved you like her own.  She always had.  

You wished she was here for Odin’s big announcement.  

You waited at attention for Odin to speak again, the boys waited equally formally with you.  Odin didn’t appear angry, so maybe he hadn’t found out about Hela yet.  That would be a blessing.  “Thor, Loki, this has been a long time coming.  It is no secret that my years are catching up with me and it is time that a proper heir be named,” Loki and Thor both stiffened at this, anxious about the news.  You knew they had been working their entire lives to be worthy of the throne, to be the one that Odin ultimately chose to become the next king of Asgard, the next Allfather.  You caught a quick hint of doubt from Loki.  He didn’t think he’d ever be chosen.  “As you are also aware, the throne does not go automatically to the eldest, but to the child who is most what Asgard needs,” they both inclined their heads in agreement with these words.  “You both bring your own strengths to the table as well as your own weaknesses,” 

Odin paused there and you all waited with bated breath to hear what he would say next.

“Therefore I have decided that the most appropriate course of action is for an impartial trial to determine which of you will be the next king of Asgard,” Odin announced.  You weren’t surprised.  Frigga had warned you after all.  Thor and Loki weren’t either.  Though they were both wary as to what this trial entailed.

“What is this trial?” Thor asked when the pause went too long.

“The Trial of Yggdrasil’s Pools,” 

[emospritelet]

Key to the Cell - chapter 5

[1] [2] [3] [4] [AO3 link]

Once breakfast was over, and the men had ridden out for the hunt with a cacophony of shouts and baying hounds, Belle retreated to the library to read the remaining chapters of the book. It told her nothing she didn’t already know, and squinting at the drawing of the ornamental dagger in the light of day still didn’t reveal what was written on it. She noticed that the drops of her blood had disappeared, though, sucked into the paper by the book’s own magic, no doubt. It was tempting to try the spell again, but she had nothing more to bargain with, and no desire to make any more demands on the Dark One’s time than she had already dealt for.

She put the book back on its shelf and sat back in her chair, thinking. It wasn’t the only book on the Dark One that existed, to be sure, but a search of the shelves before she sat down had yielded nothing further on the subject. Belle smiled to herself as she reached a decision. In the months that she and her father had been coming to Sir Gaston’s lands, she had made a friend of sorts. A purveyor of hard to find objects, he called himself, but he specialised in old books. If anyone would know where she could find out about the Dark One, it would be Jefferson.

x

Half an hour later she was taking the carriage into town, a tall, silent footman named Marcel and one of the maids, Celine, accompanying her. She knew it was for reasons of safety and propriety, but she missed the freedom of being in her own lands, with her own people. Here she was followed wherever she went, which was why she had begun sneaking down to the library at night for a brief taste of freedom. It felt as though Gaston’s servants were spying on her. As though she were a beautiful bird in a gilded cage, too valuable to be allowed to fly free, however briefly.

On this occasion, however, Marcel seemed more interested in the pretty maid than in her, the two of them sneaking glances at each other as the carriage rolled along, and a plan began to form in Belle’s mind. She kept a sharp eye out as they reached the market place, and once she spotted the shop she sought, she tapped on the roof of the carriage to stop and rummaged in her purse for some coins.

“Here,” she said, handing them to Marcel. “It’s a warm day and the road was dusty. Why don’t you both go to the tavern and have a cup of something while I visit the bookshop? It’s right across the street, you’ll be able to keep an eye on me.”

“We’re supposed to stay with you, milady,” said Celine automatically, but her eyes flicked to the footman again.

“I’ll only be ten minutes,” Belle assured her. “I want to enquire after some books I ordered. Once that’s done we’ll go to the haberdasher’s and the apothecary. You may both accompany me once you’ve quenched your thirst.”

Marcel and Celine shared a smile.

“Thank you, milady,” they said as one, and Marcel got out to hand Belle down.

She shook out her skirts, eyeing the shop she sought. The door was closed, but a bell above tinkled merrily when she pushed it open. The shelves inside lined every wall, and were filled with books, with cabinets holding ornaments and nautical navigation aids. There was a pleasing, familiar scent of parchment and leather and old paper, and Belle smiled as she glanced around, a sense of peace flowing over her.

She started as the proprietor bounced up from behind the counter, dressed in a russet-coloured coat over leather breeches and knee boots, a patterned cravat at his throat and a somewhat battered top hat on his head. Jefferson was a handsome man, with a ready grin and a glint in his eye, and from what she could tell, had a good heart and a keen sense of fun. He also had a young daughter named Grace, who liked to read as much as Belle had at her age, and Belle had given her some of her old books to borrow, much to Grace’s delight. Jefferson beamed at the sight of her.

“My Lady Belle!” he declared, sweeping a dramatic bow that was somewhat curtailed by the shop counter. “I’m delighted to see you! It’s been too long.”

“An entire week, at least,” she said, amused.

“Yes indeed.” He clasped his hands behind his back, bouncing on his toes. “Your frequent visits to my humble shop have not gone unnoticed. Why, only two days ago I had Sir Gaston’s steward come to visit me to enquire about them. Imagine my delight at such esteemed patronage.”

Belle’s blood ran cold.

“He was asking about me?” she said. “Why?”

“Oh, I’m sure your noble intended only wishes to ensure your safety,” said Jefferson cheerfully. “I’m to report back to him what you purchase from me. Romantic, no?”

Anger flared in her, and she felt her jaw protrude, as though straining against an invisible leash. She tried to relax, and smiled at Jefferson.

“It’s a good thing I seek only appropriate reading material for an innocent and fairly stupid woman, then,” she said dryly.

“It’s not as though I would sell you anything else,” he said, pressing a hand to his heart in mock horror. “This is a respectable bookshop.”

“Good,” said Belle seriously. “In that case I want to ask about the books you most definitely are not holding in this shop. In order to ensure - public decency.”

“Public decency has always been a passion of mine, my Lady,” he said gravely. “Tell me of these terrible tomes.”

She felt her lips twitch, but tried to maintain her concerned expression.

“I have heard tales of a sorcerer known as the Dark One,” she said. “No doubt there are books that cover his history, his origins. It would be dreadful if they were to fall into the wrong hands.”

“You won’t find such distasteful books on any of the shelves in this shop,” he said promptly, pointing under the desk and winking at her.

“I’m delighted to hear it.”

“Anything else?”

“I’ve also heard that there are books on magical prisons, and the breaking of curses.”

“A terrible rumour, if true,” he said. “I have no such books for sale.”

He mouthed you can borrow them behind his hand, and she wanted to giggle.

“Thank goodness,” she said. “You’ve put my mind at rest.”

“I should probably check, though,” he added. “Just to make sure. If you return in half an hour, I’ll be able to confirm it.”

“Good.” She hesitated. “While I’m at it, there may be something you could sell to me.  Do you have anything on the Blue Fairy? Or on light magic in general? I’m sure there could be no objections to me reading something like that.”

“Let me see what I can dig out,” he said, tipping his hat to her.

“And I suppose I’d better add in something about proper wifely duties, as well,” she said. “That should put Sir Gaston’s mind at ease.”

Jefferson grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

“For managing a new estate or for managing a new husband?” he asked, and she sent him a dry look.

“I’ll leave that up to you.”

His grin widened, and he lifted a finger.

“I have just the thing.”

x

When Belle left the shop, she took a moment to straighten her gloves, irritation with Gaston warring with satisfaction at having obtained more information on the Dark One. So. She was being spied on. No doubt to ensure she was suitable, the picture of a subservient, dutiful wife. The nerve of the man!

“Milady?”

Marcel and Celine had hurried over to her, and Belle nodded curtly, smoothing her features.

“I’ll call back for my books in half an hour, once they have been wrapped,” she said. “The apothecary next, I think.”

She walked swiftly enough that Celine had to trot to keep up, and made the rounds of the shops in less time than she had anticipated, but the exercise helped to ease her anger, and by the time they had left the haberdashery, she was calm again. She slowed the pace as they turned into the street leading back to the bookshop, and Celine sighed in relief, hefting the basket of her purchases.

“Alms for the poor, milady?”

A woman reached out to her with a pleading tone, blonde hair tied back from a face reddened by the sun, and Belle drew to a halt, biting her lip in distress. She imagined the woman had once been plump and pretty, but now looked gaunt and exhausted, her faded dress hanging from her, her hand a claw extended on a thin wrist. Two skinny, big-eyed children watched from the shadows, brother and sister, clutching at one another. The girl had a bracelet on her thin wrist, woven from brightly coloured woollen threads, no doubt scavenged from weavers' scraps. It made a strange contrast to her dirty smock and tangled hair.

“Get out of here, go on!” said Marcel roughly, aiming a kick at the woman, and she shied away. Belle rounded on him.

“Do that again and there will be consequences!” she snapped.

“I’m charged with protecting you, milady,” he said. “You don’t have to deal with these vermin.”

“When I marry your lord, these will be my people!” said Belle, frowning. She turned back to the woman. "What's your name?"

"Gerta, milady."

“And what has brought you to this sad state? Have you no work?”

“Not since the clearances, milady,” she said, eyeing Marcel warily.

“Clearances?”

“We had a strip of land down by the river," said Gerta. "A herd of goats and some vegetable plots. The Lord’s men drove us off two winters gone. Us and all the other smallholders. Beat our men when they protested, killed some. Killed my husband. The fields have gone to barley for the brewers, the goats slaughtered.”

Belle shook her head, and reached into her purse for some money.

“Milady, you shouldn’t—” began Marcel.

“I’ll do as I please with my own coin!” snapped Belle. She pressed some silver into Gerta’s hand, followed by a gold piece. “Here. That should feed and clothe you all for a little while, at least. Once you feel able, come to the castle and ask for me: I'll speak to the steward about finding some work for you."

"Oh thank you, thank you!" Tears pricked the woman's eyes.

"No need to thank me," said Belle.  "You shouldn't be in this situation. I shall speak to Sir Gaston about what has happened to you.”

“It won’t do any good,” said Gerta wearily. “But bless your kind heart, milady.”

She clasped Belle’s hand between her own, smiling a little, and slunk away, the children following. Belle noticed that the boy was limping badly, his lower leg twisted and useless as he shuffled along, supported by his sister.

“They’ll probably just spend it on ale, milady,” said Celine.

“They look too hungry to want to bother with the tavern,” said Belle shortly. “Have many families been driven off their lands?”

The servants shrugged, and she clicked her tongue in irritation.

“What provision has been made for their welfare?” she asked. “Are there soup kitchens? Anything?”

“The brewers set up a soup kitchen,” said Celine. “They were told to take it down, because it just encouraged the beggars.”

“Well of course it encouraged them, how would they eat otherwise?” snapped Belle, and shook her head with a sigh. “Still, this is a matter for Sir Gaston, not you. I need to pick up my books, and then we’ll take the carriage home.”

She stomped off, seething with anger. What sort of lord would let his people starve?

Jefferson seemed to catch her mood when she returned, and made no quips as he handed Marcel a pile of books wrapped in paper and tied with string. Belle paid him, smiling slightly to show that her bad mood had not been caused by him. He was far more reserved in front of the servants, and she imagined it was just as well. No doubt an account of their day in town would reach Gaston before long, and she didn’t want Jefferson singled out for any special attention from the steward.

The ride home was subdued, and once the servants had carried the books and other purchases up to Belle’s room, she announced that she had a headache, and would be lying down until it passed. Celine drew the curtains and helped her off with her gown, and Belle lay down with a damp cloth over her eyes. The sound of the door closing softly made her sigh in relief, but she still waited a few minutes before tearing off the damp cloth and sitting up, reaching for the parcel of books. There had to be answers in there somewhere.

Jefferson had wrapped up five books in total, the top one being a very proper treatise on the management of estates from a noblewoman’s perspective. Belle tossed that aside with a curl of her lip, but after a moment, placed it on her nightstand. If Gaston wanted to hear about what she was reading, let him hear about that.

The second book was infamous, and made her blush fiercely and glance around before turning back to it. The Lady’s Boudoir by An Anonymous Gentlewoman of Note was rumoured to be the most complete compendium of detailed intimate relations between husband and wife. Along with illustrations. After suppressing a giggle at the look on Gaston’s face if he were to find such a book in her possession, Belle resolved to hide it somewhere safe until she could take it back to Jefferson. She had already read it, anyway.

The third book had an embossed illustration of a fairy on the cover, wand lifted high with a blue star at its tip. A Study of Fairies and Their Use of Light Magic, read the title page, and Belle pursed her lips thoughtfully and set the book aside on the nightstand before reaching for the next. It was a heavier volume, bound in battered blood-red leather with gilt letters on the spine: First Steps in Curse-Breaking.

She was almost trembling with excitement, eager to open up the book and pore over its contents, but the final book in the paper package had already drawn her eye.  It was the slimmest by far, perhaps two hundred pages if that, with a plain black leather binding. Opening it up, Belle ran her eyes over the title page: The Dark One: His Origins and Powers.

Belle clutched the book to her chest, heart thumping, and sent up a prayer to the gods that the information she sought would be contained within. Then she got back onto the bed, wriggling against the pillows to get comfortable, and began to read.

[shadowhunterdownworlderhybrid]

•A Little Bit Of Everything•

Pairing: Isabelle Lightwood & My OC Jennifer Reaper

I got sidetracked so many times because this originally was supposed to be an AU so please bear with me thank you for your time. ❤️

______

It was simple, take the picture then boom Isabelle had an idea. But it wasn’t easy it was actually pretty difficult for the small women to find something or someone to be her muse, Jace volunteered but Isabelle declined, don’t get the women wrong she loved her brother but Jace was sometimes to much he loved taking pictures of himself Isabelle couldn’t really blame him she did the same.

But that wasn’t the point, Izzy was doing a fashion design at home, she had the clothing down but nothing came to mind when she got to the colors, so Isabelle decided to use an old hobby that she loved to do, photography. Isabelle has an eye for fashion but she also has an amazing eye for scenery, perfect lighting and timing.

Aside from fashion Isabelle adored taking photos of things that caught her interest.

But at the moment nothing caught her attention or interested her. Izzy huffed in defeat deciding to go home leaving the park she was originally at.

—-

As Soon as Isabelle entered her apartment the smell of freshly cooked pasta invaded her senses which only meant one thing.

Jennifer was cooking lunch.

Isabelle made a Beeline towards the kitchen settling on a chair by the bar placing her camera on the wooden platform resting her head in the palm of her hand letting out a deep sigh.

“Uh oh I know that sigh, that’s the ‘I give up’ sigh, who exactly are you and what have you done to my best friend?.” Jennifer asked clearly joking with a hint of seriousness. Isabelle groaned tilting her head back as Jennifer set a bowl of pasta in front of her, “But seriously Iz what’s up?” Jennifer continued to question placing a fork in front of the women swaying her hips a bit to the music that was quietly playing.

“I have no muse.” Iz mumbled picking up her fork stabbing the pasta, “Isabelle Lightwood, not having any muse?. No that’s not possible Isabelle, you made a design out of a garbage bag and it looked nice! And you got that from where? A dumpster by an ally?.”

Isabelle shook her head chuckling a bit eating the noodles she stabbed earlier.

“Why not use Jace for muse?.”

Isabelle snorted covering her mouth so she didn’t spit out her food.

“Izzy he’s not that bad he models for Clary all the time.”

“I know but Jace sometimes doesn’t act normal when a Camera is faced towards him.”

“Jace does love himself I don’t know what to tell you there. Hell pretty sure if there was a second him he’d date him.”

Isabelle glanced up at Jenny her eyes casted down on the newspaper placed in front of her, she didn’t miss the way the corners of her mouth curled up, Isabelle found herself smiling too.

“It’s true.” They said in sync.

Jennifer looked at Isabelle meeting her eyes, their smiles growing bigger both women laughing.

——-

Later in the evening Isabelle found herself in her fashion and photography studio, Izzy stared down at the unfinished drawing that she created nothing coming to mind.

Isabelle groans in defeat she’s been staring at the drawing for two hours now and nothing struck her creative side.

“Why not red? You know like the iconic rose.” Isabelle jumped a bit looking over her shoulder to see Jennifer leaning against the doorframe of the studio her amber hair dissolved hazel eyes dropping wearing a shirt that went past her waist hiding her underwear, holding a cup in her hands. Isabelle gave her a gentle smile “I have at least over a hundred styles that are full on red Jen.” Jennifer shrugged “just trying to help.” She mumbled walking over to where Izzy was sitting leaning over her shoulder to see what she did.

“It looks good.”

“Yeah but it would look better if it had color.”

“And a hat.”

Isabelle looked up towards Jennifer “what?.”

“It is the winter time Iz a beanie would go great with the Jacket and pants, beneath the ripped Jeans would be leggings the shoes would mostly brown army boots with one of the tags hanging off the side.”

Isabelle thought of it, trying to imagine what Jennifer told her and explained into some details.

“Or not, i’m not as good at fashion then you are aside from that you can do it Iz, your a lightwood you’ll find a way to finish this and make it come to life.” Jen said kindly placing a quick kiss on Isabelle cheek.

“Here I made this for you, don’t stay here too long or I might have to drag you to dinner and bed like last time.” the women warned in a playful tone placing the cup in Isabelle hand “Coffee?.”

“Coffee.” Jen answered messing with Izzy’s hair before finally leaving the short women alone.

Isabelle huffed in amusement she adored that women, Isabelle looked down at the liquid smiling, not to dark or to light it balanced out, but it was mostly the foam heart that made her smile. Jennifer understood her well.

“Perfect.” a small ‘Just like you!’ could be heard making Isabelle laugh.

“Thank You!.”

Like I said, she adores that woman.

_____

Hours after hours Isabelle found herself yawning, her black hair tied up into a messy bun held together by different pencils and pens, The cup from earlier empty on her table.

Isabelle drew 5 different styles using some pictures she took years ago to help her, but nothing they didn’t give her the passion she would usually get when she created a new design.

An exhausted sigh left her lips deciding to call it a night, it can’t be that late if Jennifer didn’t come to drag her to bed, right?.

Isabelle looked at her watch, it was 8:46 Pm.

“Shit…” Isabelle dropped her pencil onto the platform of her design table grabbing the cup beside her pushing the stool back walking out of the studio turning off the light on her way out, quickly walking down the hall going to the kitchen order to clean the cup placing it in the sink.

Isabelle sighed rubbing her eyes, “what am I supposed to do?. I can’t think with a tired mind.” She said to herself leaning against the counter after a minute of complete silence and debating on what she’s supposed to do, Isabelle noticed a dim light coming from the living room, raising a brow Isabelle circled around the island heading towards the source of the light, finding a sleeping Jennifer laying on the couch. Papers laid out on the coffee table, Isabelle glanced over at them to see one word in bold RENT.

She forgot all about the rent, Isabelle was out of town for a couple months on vacation with the Lightwood family and Magnus, Jennifer wasn’t allowed to come because in her mother’s words ‘I don’t have enough money for another ticket.’

They both knew it was a load of bullshit but Jenny being Jenny told Isabelle it was fine she’ll live.

‘It’s gonna take a couple of months to get rid of the Lightwood smell anyway you and that freaking perfume trying to kill me.’

Isabelle smiled at the memory, Jennifer always tries to find something to tease Isabelle about.

Isabelle scoffed rolling her eyes a soft smile forming on her face “now aren’t you a sweetheart?.”

“Who pays 150 dollars for a damn perfume!?.” She Shouted in a playful manner a smile on her face.

“Me!.”

“Obviously.” Jennifer scoffed shaking her head.

•

Isabelle closed her eyes shaking her head at the memory quietly laughing.

The revenant took a seat by the sleeping amber haired girl noticing money lined up by the rent and other things, there were labels on top of the different stacks, Rent, Light, Cable, Gas, Phone’s, AC bill, Water bill. Taxes.

Isabelle brows drew together, how the hell was Jennifer able to pay for all these things for the past 3 months? Isabelle never got the chance to ever send Jennifer money because of her mother.

“She’s a big girl, she’ll be able to handle it.”

Isabelle was so mad when her mother said that, Isabelle and Jennifer were roommates for a reason, they split the bills, food stamps and more and of course they’ve always planned on living with each other since they were kids.

Why was the Light bill so high?.

Crap the light room…

Isabelle forgot to shut that off, after looking over the bills she noticed how each was was high beside the phone and gas bill, AC was Isabelle fault So was the light.

Isabelle sighed “you better not be working twelve jobs again.” Izzy said to herself, Izzy left before for a whole year because of a design project she was doing in London she was needed to make and come up with ideas for the dresses the models were wearing thanks to Magnus help, he knew how bad Isabelle wanted to be a fashion designer so he tried to help everyone supported her especially Jennifer. Frankly her year trip was cut short because of a call she got that scared the hell out of her. Jennifer ended up in the hospital.

Isabelle can’t remember the last time she got on a public transport so fast, she remembered bouncing her leg up and down on her way back tears in her eyes fearing for a best friend as soon as she got off the plane she called an Uber going straight to the hospital she told the Uber to take her bags to her house saying her landlord would be at the door to help with them. Izzy opened the double doors seeing that her brother’s, Magnus, Clay and Simon were already there all looking equally worried but Isabelle knew she was worst that she looked worst she was the closest to Jennifer, Jennifer was her everything.

Later on Isabelle found out she didn’t have enough nutrients in her body, she didn’t eat a normal amount of food she didn’t drink enough water or anything else her anxiety levels were horrible, doctors said she either passed out from hunger, stress, anxiety or exhaustion. All of those reasons made Isabelle feel horrible, Isabelle remembered everyone arguing with the doctor but she was more focused on the unconscious Jennifer on the hospital bed, she didn’t even look alive she would’ve mistaken Jennifer for dead if the heart monitor didn’t tell her otherwise. She was pale Isabelle couldn’t see her freckles as much, the dark circles under her eyes made her sick to her stomach.

At one point she had to yell at everyone to shut the hell up. Them arguing was gonna give Jennifer more stress and make her state last longer she may be unconscious but Isabelle knew Jennifer could probably hear them.

Isabelle was pulled out of memory lane when a small sound came from beside her, she looked over to see Jennifer stirring in her sleep a bit, then there were the nightmares.

Isabelle sighed crawling over to her lightly stroking the side of Jennifer’s head humming a song, Jennifer relaxed under her touch a deep breath leaving her, Isabelle watched her friend for a while thinking of all the times Jen was there for her. “You do so much and you barely get recognition for any of it… I tell you everyday and I’ll keep telling you, I am thankful for you I appreciate you for being in my life for always putting me first even when I don’t deserve it. I want you to take better care of yourself, I should’ve asked Magnus to help you that year but I was to caught up in my own excitement that I forgot, that was selfish of me and I really wish you told me of all the things you were doing, I would’ve helped you pay for your classes if I knew that paper was coming early, even if I did ask for Magnus to help you, I know you would decline his help till the bitter end because you’ve never enjoyed asking people for anything.” She spoke quietly. Playing with a strand of her hair.

“When I got that call I felt as if my world crumbled around me… I was so scared for you I tried to not think the worst but I did… all I knew I wanted to do was hold you and not let you go or let you out of my sight, I don’t know if I want to do this fashion thing if it’s gonna end up taking me away from you for a period of time, period of time that causes you to run all around the place trying to keep a place for us. It’s not fair for you or me, I don’t want to go somewhere and find out months later you’re in the hospital again because you weren’t able to have time for yourself.” Tears overwhelmed her eyes, “I’ve always wanted the best for you, as you did for me… be selfish for once please… do something for you…”

“You think you don’t have a calling or a future, you think you’re nothing but you are something you’re not a delinquent you’re not a mistake. You’re not bad I don’t care what my mom says, you are a part of the family you’re my family…”

“I absolutely unconditionally adore you and love you with my heart and soul.”

_______

Shadowhunters: @my-archerboy

The only reason I got into this was because of them, thank you sweetheart for giving me the courage to actually write this even though I’m still nervous about this.

If nobody likes it or cares that’s alright too 🙂🙃.

[ladyshandioftheendless]

~StarChild Assassin Side Story 6~

An Ace/Tommy origin story! Requested by @misslivvie and @cptnruski! Enjoy, my babies~!! =3

~Shandi

Ace and Tommy think back to how they first connected~

A COMET REDISCOVERED

Tommy woke up to Ace’s side of the bed being empty. He frowned and looked at the clock. 3:25 am. Insomnia was striking again it seemed. He caught a glimpse of his lover outside, leaning against the balcony having a smoke. He sighed. He’d been trying to get Ace to quit but it looked like it wasn’t taking. “Ace?” He went out to the balcony and pressed his cheek against Ace’s bare shoulder. “Can’t sleep again?” Smoke escaped Ace’s nose. “Just lettin’ some thoughts escape, Baby Boy..you..us~ Remember when we met?” Tommy laughed softly. “’88. I’ll never forget it~” It had been a long time since they reminisced together…

~JUNE 1988~

Ace was in desperate search for a new direction. It had been a year since Stanley left him..and a mere month since Frehley’s Comet decided to part ways. The only friend he felt he had left was Petey-Cat. After the band’s separation Peter had let him into his world. For the next few months his life revolved around nothing but drugs, alcohol and sex. Eventually it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. 

~SEPTEMBER 1988~

“Heeeey Petey-Cat~!!” Ace drunkenly stumbled into Peter’s office while he was fucking Vinnie. Again. Peter slammed his fist against his desk in annoyance. “God fuckin’ dammit, Ace!! Can’t you knock?!” Ace giggled. “Yeeeeah I could..but it’s too much fun catchin’ ya off guard! Mind if I join~?” He winked at Vinnie who shot him a look of disgust. Peter was glaring daggers now. “I swear to fuckin’ Christ if you don’t get outta here..” 

“But I wanna know what you think about me ownin’ a casino!” 

“I think it’s another one of your ridiculous drunken fantasies.” 

“What if I cut you in for half? We could be partners!” 

“If you wanna talk business come back after you’ve sobered up.” 

“Ugh..yeeeeah fine..” 

Ace rolled his eyes when Vinnie’s moans resumed as he closed the door behind him. 

Later that night Peter’s bodyguard Bruce escorted him back. When he opened the door Peter was sitting at his desk, clearly in business mode. Vinnie was sitting on the edge of the desk with his legs crossed and holding a glass of wine. “Business talk, Baby Doll. Scoot.” Ace kept his eyes on Vinnie’s swaying hips as he walked past. “Mmm..how come you always get all the hot ones, Petey-Cat~?” Peter’s expression didn’t change. “Why don’t we focus here? Tell me about this ‘plan’ you’ve got.” Ace grinned and sat down in the chair. He started eyeing the open bottle of wine but Peter grabbed it and placed it on the floor next to his chair. “Don’t even think about it. Start talkin’.” 

“Well geez it’s nothin’ complicated. Just wanna bring a high-class gambling joint to my Bronx y’know? We find a nice big building, clean it up good, make it nice an’ flashy to draw in all the suckers..and we split it all right down the middle!” Peter’s eyes narrowed. “Do you even have any money left?” 

“Relax, will ya? I got enough to go halfsies on a building.”

“What about labor? Employees?” 

“Maybe you can spare some guys for that? Y’got plenty.”

“Fair enough. I’ll make some calls.”

“So we got a deal?”

“Listen to me, Ace. I’m only doin’ this as a favor to a friend. Cause I’m tired of you always lookin’ so pathetic. So don’t take advantage of my generosity. If I find out you’ve been cheatin’ me..and I will find out if you are..then you’ll be takin’ an involuntary nosedive off the Brooklyn Bridge. Am I makin’ myself clear?”

“Yep. Crystal.” 

~NOVEMBER 1988~

It had been a long arduous process but through combined efforts Ace’s dream was ready to become a reality. Construction was complete. Employees were hired. Advertisements were placed around town, in the newspapers and on tv. Towards the end of the month Wild Aces was officially open for business.

 Ace and Peter watched from the two-way mirror in the upstairs office as the doors opened and the people poured in. It was a pretty damn good out for an opening..and hopefully through them word would spread to other places outside of the Bronx. Peter was actually pretty impressed. Vinnie came in with a bottle of champagne. “It’s really crazy down there, baby~ I’d say your opening is a big success~” He opened the bottle and filled three glasses. “Oh yeah. Bruce says there’s some guy asking about a job. Really desperate too. He wants to know if he should throw him out.” Peter moved to go but Ace stopped him. “Lemme handle this, Petey-Cat. I gotta exercise some of my authority here too y’know.” 

At the bottom of the stairs Bruce was standing in the way of a guy with the curliest head of blond hair Ace had ever seen. His clothes looked pretty worn but other than that..he was actually quite a looker~ “C’mon! Just let me speak to someone in charge! All I wanna do is ask about a job!” Bruce was clearly losing his patience. “And I told you that you can’t come up here! Do I have to beat it into your head?” Ace cleared his throat loudly. “Ease up there, Brucie. Don’t go threatenin’ customers, hah? Is there something I can do for ya, kid?” 

“Mr. Frehley!” The guy pushed past Bruce to meet him halfway up the stairs. “I..I saw an ad for this place in the paper and I couldn’t believe it was you who owned it! I had to come see for myself!” He reached into his faded leather jacket and pulled out a tarnished medallion shaped like the Frehley’s Comet logo. “I’m a huge fan of your music and I..would love to have the opportunity to work here for you.” Ace frowned. That was the last thing he wanted to be reminded of right now. “You do know we broke up right? Months ago? The Ace you’re lookin’ for doesn’t exist anymore, kid. Try your luck somewhere else.” He went back upstairs without another word. He needed a fuckin’ drink.

Ace figured that would be the last he’d see of that blond poodle-haired kid. He was wrong. He would come around at least a couple of times a week hoping for another chance, and every time he would get turned down. It didn’t take long for Ace to notice he was wearing the same clothes every time. 

He was starting to feel like shit. 

When he didn’t come back the next week, Ace went out to look for him. For two hours he searched with no success. He was about to give up when he spotted that familiar head of hair out of the corner of his eye. He was leaning against the building across the street with his head bent low, playing and old beat up guitar for pocket change. 

Now he absolutely felt like shit. 

Ace made his way across the busy street to watch the kid play. The melody was definitely from a Frehley’s Comet song, he just couldn’t remember which one..or he didn’t want to remember. “Any change you can spare would be appreciated, sir..” the kid said without looking up. “I think I can do better than that for ya~” He immediately stopped playing. “Mr. Frehley..?” 

“Just call me Ace, kid. All that ‘Mr. Frehley’ stuff is makin’ me feel old~”

“I..I can’t do that! I respect you too much!” 

“Alright if that’s how you wanna play it~ What’s your name?”

“Tommy. Tommy Thayer.” 

“Why don’tca come back with me, Tommy? I think we need to have a talk~” 

~DECEMBER 1988~

Tommy had turned out to be a poor, struggling musician with no family and nowhere to call home. Ace couldn’t stand the thought him sleeping on the streets, especially during the winter. With all the money he’d made from the casino’s profits Ace was able to buy himself a fancy penthouse apartment, and he invited Tommy to stay in one of his guest bedrooms. “Make yourself at home, Tommy boy..my house is your house~ Now we just need to get you some nice lookin’ clothes and you can start your job~” On the verge of tears, Tommy threw his arms around him and hugged him tightly. “Thank you..thank you so much! You have no idea how much this means to me!” 

“Heh..I think I’ve got an idea, kid~” 

“I’m..not really that much of a kid. I’m 27.”

“Well I’m 37..so that makes you a kid to me~” 

Tommy blushed. “S-sure..if you say so~” 

Things were going really well until Christmas drew closer. That was when Tommy noticed Ace growing more and more distant. On the 23rd he made an announcement to the employees that the casino would be closed until January 2nd. They were all equally as confused as Tommy. He didn’t think Ace would turn down the chance to make holiday profits. Something about this just didn’t feel right. When they returned to the apartment Ace silently went into his room and locked the door. He didn’t come out for the rest of the night. 

In the early hours of the morning the sounds of a guitar roused Tommy from his sleep. He pulled on his favorite pair of flannel pants and went to investigate. Ace was sitting on the couch playing. With the exception of a plucking few wrong chords, probably from being drunk or high, he sounded amazing. Knowing Frehley’s Comet’s discography inside and out Tommy instantly recognized the song. 

Rip it out, take my heart, You wanted it from the start You got it now, so goodbye, So rip it out, watch me cry 

He sounded so sad and broken, Tommy found himself crying. He desperately wanted to just run over to Ace and hug him. He wanted to hurt whoever was responsible for making his idol hurt so badly. The playing soon stopped when Ace was too upset to go on. To hell with it. He went into the living room and sat on the couch, wrapping his arms tightly around Ace’s shoulders. “I’m sorry..” 

“Heeeey Tommy booy~” Yep. Ace was definitely drunk. “Did I wake ya..? Ahhh ‘m sorry..but I’d get used to it. I fuckin’ hate the holidays..” Tommy looked up at him. “Why?” Ace leaned his head back and heaved a heavy sigh. “I had a boyfriend.. He was fuckin’ beautiful and I worshiped him. I met him when he came to one of our performances back in ‘85. He ended up fainting and I ended up fallin’ hard for him. We moved in together..we were plannin’ to get married...then it all went to shit. I’m sure he was fuckin’ cheatin’ on me but I never found out the truth. Last year he left me for some creepy rich asshole..right around Christmas time.. Holidays were fun for us y’know? Sure, he was Jewish and he didn’t do Christmas but he’d celebrate it anyway with me. For me. I never…fuckin’ understood what I did to make him not..love me anymore..!” Tommy hugged him even tighter as he cried. “No..it’s his own fault. He had something perfect and he let it slip away. Wherever he is..he’ll be miserable because he doesn’t have you.” Ace forced out a laugh. “Y-you’re sweet, kid..but look at me..I’m washed up. I’ve got nothin’ to offer anyone anymore..” 

“I am looking. All I see is someone I admire..someone I idolize in pain..and I just wanna help to make it stop..” He felt Ace’s hand press against his back. Those rough fingers felt good against his skin. The first kiss was brief and uneasy. The second, longer and more passionate. By the third, Tommy was on his back with Ace’s tongue exploring his mouth. Tommy shivered as Ace’s hand slowly worked its way into his pants. 

“If you want me to stop…” 

“Don’t..I need you, Ace..please..”

~PRESENT DAY~

Wait..THAT fuckin’ happened? Why don’t I remember?!” 

“You were probably too drunk to remember..” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Tommy stared out at the city skyline. “I was too embarrassed..and I didn’t want you to regret it..” Ace wrapped his arm around Tommy’s waist and pulled him close. “I don’t regret anything between us..not now..not ever~” They shared a soft kiss and a tight, loving embrace. 

“I love you..my Space Ace~” 

“Love ya too, Tommybear~” 

~END~

[lelitachay]

Frozen fanfiction: Søsken

Summary: Even though Anna loved her sister-in-law, she couldn’t help but notice there was something peculiar about Elsa. Everything starts to make sense after an accident and a forced family reunion.

Modern AU. Kristanna - Frohana - Kristoff & Elsa BrOTP.

Chapter 1 - North mountain

Chapter 2 - Aftermath

Chapter 3 - Family

Chapter 4 - Siblings

Chapter 5 - Confinement

Chapter 6 - Better days

Kristoff opened the door to his apartment almost two hours after dropping Anna off at her place. He had driven around town for some time to clear his mind and give Elsa some time to cool off after it. When he heard Anna’s reasoning of Elsa needing time on her own, he thought it was best to implement that idea that same night. He accepted he had pushed his sister to the limit that day. He knew Elsa didn’t like celebrating her birthday but he had forced her anyway, not really listening to her claiming of being tired and in pain; and now he felt terrible for doing it. His original idea had been to help Elsa distract from the confinement she was surely feeling; however, it had backfired and they had ended up arguing about the stupid medicines instead.  

The man was surprised not to find Elsa where he had expected her to be when he entered his apartment. He found his sister’s bed empty when he lit the room. He had been sure she was not going to wait up for him to return; it was difficult for the girl to get off the wheelchair on her own but not impossible after all. Whenever Elsa was angry with him, she had learnt to take some distance and tried to put some physical space between them. Not because she held grudges against her brother, she simply insisted it was easier to control her emotions that way. Even though she had never hurt her brother with her powers, she was aware how powerful they could come to be if she lost control of her emotions. She didn’t want to take any chances and that resulted in her taking some steps back. So, even if their fight that night had not been the worst they had had, it made Kristoff think Elsa was going to take a little longer to open up to him after it.

He searched the room and found Elsa lying on the kitchen table. Her head resting on her good arm while she drew imaginary figures with her left hand on the wood. She had not raised her head when he entered, but she did look at him with a guilty expression when he sat on the empty chair beside her. Both of them stayed there just looking at each other for some time, Kristoff believed Anna was right when she said he had pushed his sister to the limit and he wanted Elsa to be the one to break the silence, if she so desired.

After what felt for a really long time for Kristoff, Elsa decided to say something, “I know you are just trying to help me, but I really want to stop taking the drugs, you know?”

“I sometimes forget when to stop pestering you… Do what you feel it’s best for you,” he extended his hand and grabbed hers, stopping her imaginary drawings and catching her attention. “I trust you. More than you can imagine, Elsa. Never doubt that.”

Elsa simply squeezed his hand and gave him a tiny smile in reassurance, a gesture that said more than Kristoff needed to know. It was impressive sometimes how easily the two of them understood each other. It was in moments like this he liked to believe they were really brother and sister and not just two broken kids, with a harsh childhood on their backs, who had found each other. He thought it was best to change the gloomy atmosphere and offered, “Cake?”

“You know how I feel about my birthday…” she let go of his hand and looked at him in the eyes before asking, “Why did you try so hard this year?”

Kristoff was not expecting that question and the sudden realisation he had indeed tried harder to celebrate her birthday that year caught him off guard. It was true he liked celebrating birthdays in general, but he never insisted on celebrating Elsa’s if she didn’t want to. But this time was different, for a moment he had thought he had lost Elsa on the mountain a few weeks back, and he had felt the need to celebrate she was okay. “I thought it was going to be a nice idea since we are living together this year,” ‘and you didn’t die two weeks ago’ he thought to himself. “Even if you don’t like celebrating your birthday, I do. It’s the day my sister was born.”

She stayed silent analysing what he was saying before correcting him, “You are aware it’s not even my birthday, right? It’s just the date I was dropped at the orphanage’s door, Kristoff.”

“I know that,” he shrugged. “But I see it as the day my sister entered my life.”

“What are you talking about?” she chuckled. “We didn’t meet until we were 8 years old.”

“Well…” he paused to think of the right way to express what he wanted to say. He didn’t want Elsa to think he was a heartless bastard who didn’t care for her feelings. “I know it sounds selfish given everything you went through, but if you hadn’t been taken to the orphanage that night, I wouldn’t be your brother.”

Kristoff was surprised to see her smile at his answer. “I think your life would have been just the same without me in the picture, to be honest.”

“Not really. I believe meeting you shaped me into who I am today. So, your dropped-day means a lot to me.”

Elsa narrowed her eyes for a moment before saying with amusement, “what a sweet but strange thing to say.”

Kristoff laughed at her answer and simply explained, “that’s why we call it ‘birthday’ instead of ‘dropped-day’.”

Elsa joined him and both of them laugh at the strange path their conversation had taken. After they calmed down, she remembered it all started with an offer, “you said something about a cake, right?”

He smiled widely and stood up ready to cut the cake.

Idunn entered her daughter’s room early the following morning and was surprised to find a pile of clothes on the floor by the door. Even more strange was to see Anna kneeling, half body inside her wardrobe, throwing clothes over her shoulder. Only half of the clothes she throwed ended up in the pile, the rest ended up everywhere.

“Anna, darling, what are you doing?”

Anna’s head appeared from the wardrobe, a happy smile plastered on her face, “Oh, hi!” She sat on the floor to give her legs a rest while she spoke, “Nothing, I was just looking for something.”

“And is it necessary to create this chaos to look for it?”

“I guess. I don’t really remember where it is…” it was at that moment an idea popped up in her head. “Wait. Maybe you can help me!”

Idunn sat on the bed, “What are you looking for?”

“Remember that awesome winter jacket you and papa gave me a year or so ago?”

“Awesome winter jacket?”

“Yeah. It was a deep blue colour, it had fur on its hood and it was way too big for me to wear it,” she mimicked the description to help her mother remember. “You guys bought it on one of your trips, and there was no way you guys could return it.”

The older woman thought for a while before she realised what her daughter was talking about, “I think I remember now, yes. It was too long for you and it didn’t really fit me.”

“That’s the one! Do you know where it is?”

“I think I do. Let me check.” Using a chair as a ladder, Idunn opened the upper door of Anna’s wardrobe to search for a big black bag. Once she put it on the floor, she asked Anna to look inside the bag. She remembered she had put it away in that place not long ago. She watched Anna search for the jacket eagerly until she found it and laughed in delight.

“This is the one! Thanks.”

“It’s a beautiful jacket if you ask me. It’s a shame we can’t use it,” she picked the garment and inspected it carefully. “Why were you looking for it?”

“Yesterday was Elsa’s birthday and I thought it could be a wonderful gift for her.” Anna took the jacket from her mother’s arms and folded it neatly inside a delicate box Idunn hadn’t seen on the floor before that moment.

“Oh… You didn’t mention anything yesterday.”

“I didn’t know. Elsa hadn’t told me and Kristoff forgot mentioning it to me until dinner. I was so ashamed; I spent the whole day with Elsa without knowing.” The girl closed the box and put a lovely blue ribbon on top.

“Are you sure about gifting her that? I can lend you some money if you want to,” suggested Idunn.

“Yes, I’m positive. She doesn’t own many warm clothes, which is weird since she lives in the mountain, but I think she can’t afford something like this. It’ll be a nice gift. And useful.” Elsa hadn’t mentioned anything to Anna, but she had heard her complain to her brother about the clients she was missing that season.  

Idunn watched her daughter began rearranging the clothes inside the wardrobe. The woman helped her pick up some of the things laying on the floor before asking, “Have you and Kristoff had the chance to tell Elsa about joining us for dinner?”

Not really knowing what her mother was talking about, Anna asked, “You mean here?”

“Yes. Remember we said we wanted to thank her for saving you,” she handed Anna the last few clothes before continuing, “your father and I were thinking New Year’s Eve could be a nice occasion.”

“I had completely forgot about that. I’ll ask her today,” Anna said as she picked the gift from her bed and walked out the door.

Elsa was resting in bed with Sven when she heard soft knocks on the door. She tried to sit and search for her wheelchair when she saw Kristoff walking towards the door.

“Don’t worry,” he said as he reached the knob. “I’ll get it.”

Since she didn’t need to get up, she throw herself on the pillows once again. She was a little tired, but she was feeling a lot better than she had in the last week. True to her wishes, and after Kristoff’s permission, she had stopped taking her medicine the previous night and she was already feeling the difference. Her body was clearly feeling a lot better even if her leg was throbbing with a little more intensity. Elsa knew it was going to be part of the process of getting rid of the drugs to become used to feeling more pain; but a little more pain in exchange of having full control of her body and her emotions was worth it in her opinion.

She was distracted from her thoughts when a big object was placed on her stomach. She opened her eyes and found a large box with a beautiful ribbon on top, and a joyful Anna smiling at her from the foot of the bed. “What is this?” she asked, not really knowing what to expect.

“It’s a gift!” said Anna eagerly. “Now open it!”

Puzzled by the girl’s gesture, Elsa sat on her bed and analysed the box in front of her before obliging to her petition. She considered it was not necessary for the girl to bring her a present for her birthday, but she considered it was a little rude to reject it right away. After her terrible behaviour the previous night, Elsa considered she owned her sister-in-law the decency of acting like a normal person at that moment. When she opened the box and saw the stunning jacket laying inside, she thought Anna was being way too generous with her. “Anna, this is beautiful but this is too expensive. I can’t accept it.”

“Yes, you can!” smiled Anna as she sat on the mattress and helped Elsa take the garment out of the box. “I noticed you don’t have many warm clothes and I thought it could be the perfect gift for you.”

Elsa took the jacket in her hands when Anna offered it to her and she examined the clothing. The garment was indeed gorgeous. The colour was picture-perfect and the fur stunning. Elsa had to agree the present was, as Anna had said, perfect for her; but her guilt from the way she had behaved the previous night prevented her from enjoying or even accepting the gift. “Anna, it’s perfect, really. But I seriously can’t accept it. I don’t deserve this.”  

“What?” Anna’s eyes opened in surprised by Elsa’s comment.

“This is too expensive, and after the way I treated you yesterday… I think I don’t deserve it.” Elsa lowered her head when she explained her reasons. She was still ashamed and she didn’t feel comfortable looking at Anna in her eyes.

Anna’s surprised expression turned into a fond smile when she noticed Elsa’s uneasiness about accepting the gift. “Nonsense. You do deserve it. If not for your birthday – because now I Know you don’t really like celebrating your birthday – for helping me in the mountain. I haven’t thanked you enough for risking your life for me, so please accept it as a ‘Thank you’ gift.”

Elsa stayed silent for some time, her eyes going from Anna to the jacket, and to Anna once again. She knew she was supposed to express gratitude but her brain was not cooperating. It was at moments like this Elsa felt silly for being completely socially inept. At the end, she opted to say what was really on her mind. “I don’t know what to say,” she confessed.

“You don’t have to say anything, silly. And you don’t have to worry about yesterday. Actually, I was the one who wanted to apologise. Kristoff and I were out of place.”

“No, you were not. You were just trying to keep me company and…” Elsa ran her fingers through her hair, something Anna had seen her do when she was a bit nervous. “Being honest, I need to learn to interact with people, even if I’m not feeling in the mood to do so.”

“Elsa you don’t have to force yourself to interact with other people if you don’t want to. If you want me to stop visiting just let me know and I-”

“No,” interrupted Elsa suddenly. “No, I- Don’t stop visiting. I’m terrible at interacting with other people but I do enjoy your visits...”

Anna watched Elsa for a few seconds and she grinned when she noticed Elsa was being completely honest with her. “And I enjoy visiting.”

At her response, Elsa tilted her head as a young child would do trying to comprehend a new idea. “You do? Why?”

Anna couldn’t help but chuckle at the question. She didn’t want to laugh at Elsa’s incredulity but the enquiry was in fact so weird in her opinion. “What do you mean ‘Why’? Because you are a nice person and I enjoy spending time with you. I know we are only sisters-in-law, but I think we could be really good friends.” She let Elsa think about it for a minute before realising she didn’t know if Elsa wanted a new friend. “If you want to, that is. It’s not like I’m forcing you, that would be too weird and I don’t want things to be weird between us because that-”

“I would really like that,” she confessed. A big smile plastered on her face.

“Really? That’s awesome! And don’t worry, you can be as socially awkward around me as you want!” Anna put a hand over her mouth realising her mistake. “Okay, that sounded awful. I tried to say that as a good thing. Oh God. Please don’t take it the wrong way,” she explained hurriedly. “Why did I say that?” she muttered to herself as she covered her eyes in mortification.

Elsa laughed whole-heartedly at her, “It’s nice to know I’m allowed to be weird around you. Thank you, Anna.”

Anna moved her hand looking at Elsa through her fingers pleased to see she hadn’t ruined their friendship in the first minute. Still a little embarrassed with herself, she joined Elsa’s amusement and laughed too.

“Awe, look at you two bonding!” he said to caught the girls’ attention. “For a moment you forgot I was in the room.”

Anna saw an opportunity to tease him and asked, “Are you jealous I may like your sister’s company more than yours?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled confidently, “Pff… As if. But I’ve got to admit it’s nice to see you two becoming friends.”

As the weather forecast had announced, a mild snowstorm started by the end of the day forcing Kristoff and Anna to stay inside that evening. Their original plan for that day was to go out on a date. They hadn’t had the time to be on their own since the accident and they wanted to enjoy a nice dinner together, but the weather was not on their side. They thought it was best to stay inside and enjoy a peaceful night.

By the time they were finishing dinner, Anna remembered she had an invitation for the siblings. “Oh, I almost forgot! My parents want to invite you guys to our New Year’s Eve dinner next week. It’s a family thing but they know the two of you are alone this year, and they really want to thank Elsa for what she did for me.”

Elsa raised her head and asked, “Dinner?”

“Yep. Are you guys in?” she looked at them expecting a positive answer.

Kristoff thought about Elsa at that moment. They girl had always said she didn’t feel comfortable spending time with strangers, but at the same time they were only trying to thank her. He knew his sister was probably ready to decline the offer, however he still tried. He didn’t want to say ‘no’ to his in-laws after all. “Elsa? What do you think?”

Caught out of guard, not expecting to be the one declining the offer, Elsa cleared her throat and tried her best to come up with a good excuse not to accept the invitation. “It’s not necessary,” she said. “I mean, it’s a family thing and I wouldn’t feel comfortable intruding. They don’t need to thank me.”

“They invited you,” explained Anna trying to persuade her. “You two wouldn’t be intruding.”

The moment Anna turned her head towards Kristoff, Elsa took the opportunity to shake her head to her brother. Silently asking to help her. “Uhm... Well, Elsa still has to stay in bed. And with the wheelchair and all. It would be too difficult,” answered Kristoff when he understood his sister’s gestures.

“It would be an inconvenience,” stepped Elsa in.

“It’s a shame she doesn’t have crutches yet. Maybe some other time?” offered Kristoff.

Anna watched the siblings and asked Elsa one last time, just to be sure. “Are you sure?”

“Other time would be preferable. Yes. My apologies to your parents, Anna.” Elsa gave her a tender smile to let her know she was honestly sorry.

“Okay,” said a little dejected. She was hoping her parents could meet Elsa. She was sure they were going to love her. “It’s fine. I’ll just let them know.”

Almost a week after New Year’s, Kristoff asked Anna to stay in his apartment to take care of Sven while the siblings went to the doctor’s appointment. Elsa had been waiting for the appointment but it didn’t mean she was not nervous when the day came. Sven had sensed Elsa’s nervousness and refused to be left alone in the apartment. The animal had gotten used to have Elsa around 24-7 and he was not okay with the idea of her leaving the place that day.

Even if Anna had assured them she was going to distract the dog while they were in the hospital, the task proved to be almost impossible. The dog didn’t move from the door the whole time they were gone. At least she had been able to make the dog stop barking after the first ten minutes - the last thing Kristoff and Elsa needed were their neighbours being angry at them for Sven’s behaviour -. She had tried everything she could to make the dog move but she finally gave up after half an hour. She had to admit Sven’s loyalty was endearing but a little ridiculous at times. She didn’t want to imagine what would have happened if something worse had happened to Elsa that day in the mountain.

She was making herself a coffee when Sven started barking once again. “Sven, stop barking, Elsa is okay!” It was then she heard the door’s lock and turned to watch Sven jumping over the siblings. Kristoff did his best to stop the animal before he hurt Elsa in his excitement. After Sven let them in, Anna noticed Elsa was standing behind Kristoff and not sitting in a wheelchair. Anna felt her own excitement raise and walked towards the door to greet them.

“Elsa! You are walking again!”

“Almost,” she said with a wide smile. “The doctor said I was good enough to start using crutches and moving on my own.”

Anna could see Elsa’s enthusiasm and, in an unconscious act, she threw her arms around the older girl to give her a hug. At first, Elsa stayed still not knowing how to react. She didn’t feel comfortable with the physical contact, but after a few seconds she was able to relax into Anna’s hug. She couldn’t really hug her back, since she was supporting herself with the crutches, but she allowed herself to rest her chin on the girl’s shoulder.

When Anna realised what she had done, she detached from the girl and apologised for her eagerness. “Sorry, I got carried away. I’m just so happy to see your leg is healing!”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m happy too.” She gave Anna an honest smile to show her gratitude.

Kristoff held Sven to prevent him from jumping over Elsa and explained, “The doctor says everything is going okay, but he is not pleased with Elsa’s idea of not taking her medicine.”

“The doctor’s just exaggerating. I talked to mum yesterday and she agreed with me.”

“Of course, mum can’t say no to you,” joked Kristoff.

“You are just jealous she likes me better,” counter-attacked Elsa while she crutched towards the nearest chair. She was happy of finally be moving on her own, but she needed to get use to it first. It was a reality her leg throbbed whenever she did a wrong movement.

“So, what now? Do you have to do something?” asked curiously Anna.

“Basically, heal and-” Elsa’s answer was interrupted by the line phone which Kristoff went to pick up. “The doctor wants to see me in a few weeks to see how everything is going.” She finished before turning her attention towards her brother who was gesturing for her to pick the phone.

“It’s Marsh. He needs to talk to you,” said Kristoff when Elsa was able to reach the phone.

“Marshmallow? Hi. Yes, I’m better…” Elsa picked the phone and began her conversation while Kristoff walked towards the couch where Anna was sitting.

Surprised by the sudden call and the strange nickname Elsa had used, Anna couldn’t stop her curiosity from taking the best of her. “So… Who’s Marshmallow? She asked in a low voice. It was clear by her tone of voice she was trying to get Kristoff to start gossiping.

Kristoff just laughed at Anna’s ideas and answered, “It’s a guy who works in the ski resort near Elsa’s cottage.”

“Just a guy, huh? A guy you call ‘Marsh’ but she calls ‘Marshmallow’…” she elbowed Kristoff trying to get him to react to her words. Anna believed Kristoff was a really jealous brother deep down and she was not going to miss a chance to tease him.

Kristoff elbowed her back and answered in a low voice to make sure Elsa didn’t hear them, “No. You are not going to put any ideas into my head. The two of them are something like co-workers. Well, Elsa works independently, but they share clients whenever there are too many tourists in the mountain.”

“Hmm… Are you sure about that?” she whispered. She covered her mouth laughing at her own childishness.

“Yes,” he said trying to change the subject before Anna got ridiculous ideas into his head. “He is the one Elsa has been in contact with since she started cancelling her clients. The ski resort must be having a perfect season now that Elsa is sending all her students there.”

“Oh… So, they are just talking business?” said Anna a little dejected by the realisation that it was not what she had first imagined.

“Probably… And for your information, everyone calls the big guy ‘Marshmallow’. Now stop imagining soap operas and trying to make me part of them,” said Kristoff as he put an arm around Anna to enjoy some time together. Both began chatting about their day when they heard Elsa raise her voice on the phone.

“You told me it was a sure deal, Marshall… Well, then tell your boss to call me.”

Anna and Kristoff heard Elsa quiet down, surely Marshall was talking on the other side.

“We had a deal… What if he doesn’t know me? You know me. You know I’m good at this, why can’t you help me?”

…

For a moment Anna and Kristoff thought the conversation had ended but then they heard Elsa say in a tired voice before she hung up, “You know I need this.”

Elsa returned to the living room and sat on her make-shift bed and patted the mattress for Sven to sat by her side. Kristoff waited for Elsa to say something, but she clearly was not going to share what had just happened. Against his best judgement he asked, “Hey, everything okay?”

“Yes. Everything’s fine” she continued giving all her attention to Sven. Not really interested in participating in the conversation.

“Are you sure?” he tried one last time.

“Yes, Kristoff.”

Kristoff knew something was not right. Elsa really liked Marshall and it was almost impossible for the guy to get in her nerves if it was not something serious. But he thought it was better to let her open up whenever she felt it was right. He just hoped it was nothing too serious.

A week after Elsa had been given her crutches, Anna returned to her classes at university. She was glad she had scheduled all her classes in the mornings because she still had the chance to visit the siblings in the evenings if she was not too busy. She had gotten used to having dinner with Kristoff and Elsa in the last month, and she was happy she was still able to spend time with them. Day by day she understood a little better why Kristoff enjoyed his sister’s company so much. The girl was actually really fun to be around once she felt comfortable enough to open up, and her mood had improved considerably since had stopped taking her medicine. The three of them had fallen into a nice routine since the accident, a routine all of them enjoyed. It was for that reason Anna thought it was impossible the yells she heard in the apartment belonged to Kristoff. Elsa and Kristoff had their quarrels, like any brother and sister, but Anna had never heard them yell at each other. When Anna got close to their apartment door, she was able to actually understand what they were saying.

“That’s it? And you think it’s the guy’s fault? Why don’t you try to do something about it?!” Anna could hear Kristoff’s voice behind the door. It was surreal to hear Kristoff so angry. Anna had only heard him raise his voice when it was completely necessary. Before that moment, Anna had thought the man was incapable of raising his voice to another person. He was always the one who chose to talk things in a calm collected way.

“What do you want me to do? It’s not that easy, Kristoff!” Came Elsa’s reply. Anna could hear Elsa was angry too, but her voice was not as loud as Kristoff’s.

“You refuse to try! You don’t know if it’s easy or not unless you try!”

“Easy for you to say.” Anna heard Elsa mumble. At that moment, she thought it was best to knock on the door and interrupt the argument. They were clearly discussing something Kristoff considered important, but she knew he was going to regret fighting with Elsa after the quarrel was over. She made sure to knock as she always did, just a little bit louder this time, for them to realise she was the one on the other side of the door.

Inside Kristoff had heard Elsa just as clearly as Anna had and was in to process of answering to his sister when Anna knocked on the door. “Elsa, I’m sick of this. You need to-”

“Someone’s knocking,” interrupted Elsa. Using the door as an excuse to stop the fight.

He sighed in frustration before turning towards the door and opening in just one movement. He didn’t even greet Anna before turning back towards Elsa who was sitting on the couch on the other side of the room. Anna noticed Kristoff was going to continue the argument and she chose to interrupt him before he could start again.

“Hi. I’m sorry but I heard you guys over the door. Is everything okay?” she asked.

“It’s fine.” Came Elsa’s reply at the same time of Kristoff’s “No, not really”. Both of them looked at each other, not agreeing with their response.

“Is it a bad time? I could go and return later…”

Elsa chose not to answer. It was Kristoff apartment after all, and she believed Anna had come in the right moment. She didn’t want to continue the argument. She didn’t even want to have that conversation with her brother, so Anna’s visit was the perfect excuse for her to avoid it.

Kristoff on the other side, stayed silent for some time. His angry expression fixed on Elsa while he thought what was best to do. He wanted to talk with Elsa but there was no reason to do so if she was so adamant to ignore him. Maybe Anna’s visit had come in the right moment, he thought. “No. Stay,” he said honestly. “There’s no point in continuing an argument with a wall.”

“As if you are any better than me!” came Elsa’s reply.

“At least I accept when I’m wrong! You can’t live your life avoiding this, Elsa!”

There were many whys and wherefores she wanted to discuss with him but her irritation at the moment only allowed her brain to come up with a childish response. “Watch me,” she said.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! You are impossible to be around when you behave like this.” He walked towards the coat rack by the door where Anna was still standing and grabbed his jacket. “I’m leaving, I need to do the shopping for tonight’s dinner.” He walked out the door ready to leave the place. He just stopped to say a faint, “let’s go Anna.”

Anna had stayed silent, astonished by the discussion. When she realised Kristoff was talking to her, she couldn’t do much more than ask, “Are you sure? I mean-”

“Yes, let’s go.” Came Kristoff’s short reply and he disappeared through the door.

Not really knowing what to say or do to make things better, she opted to follow her boyfriend. Definitively he was the more pissed off of the two, maybe if she was able to talk to him and calm him down, things could go back to normal a lot faster. She turned to Elsa, who was still sitting on the couch, gave her a reassuring smile and left the apartment to follow Kristoff. She promised to herself she was going to do everything in her power to make things right.

A/N – I needed a guy working on the ski resort and what better name than Marshmallow, right? For those who find Anna’s suggestion weird because, well, it’s Marshmallow, don’t worry. I was just building Anna’s curious/playful nature. I imagine she loves to tease her boyfriend whenever she’s got the chance but that’s it.

Little by little we are getting closer to know more about Elsa’s past. Anna will soon start playing and important role in Elsa’s life which will allow Elsa to open up to her. As always, let me know your what you think of this chapter or the story in general.

(I don’t feel comfortable tagging people all the time, so let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters)

[lokikingofasgardslover713]

Faithlessness

Masterlist 

Faithlessness Masterlist?

Loki Laufeyson x Plus Size Reader

Warnings: None yet, Pain

Summary: Reader has crashed to the barren lands of Jotunheim after she is tossed out of a space craft and left for dead. Though you can guess who is the one who finds her, taking her back to the palace it is discovered she is just not any mortal or alien race. You have to read to find out what she is!

A/N: This takes place after Infinity War. In my thought Loki returned to Jotunheim to rule after he was supposedly killed on the Statesman. This was originally written for a challenge, but it turned into this! I may update it every once in a while with a brain fart. I'm never sure on chapter length, you know me I say what I have then put it to bed.

Words: +1,600

Burning, searing, white hot pain erupted along her spine. Ground cold, hard and unforgiving under shaking, pain racked body that had the once stifled cries of pain ripping through her aching chest to scream out to the sky. Shivering arms giving out to allow aching skull to contact the ice, hard, having more cries and curses dancing on the howling winds. Eyes screwed shut, the wind freezing, biting, the snow slapping her face, screaming out in frustration. Wherever this was it was designed to kill, this unforgiving hell that she had slammed into.

Finally, opening tear-filled eyes to look up into the dark sky that was a deep navy, hardly any stars, just clouds, ice, and snow. Breath misting around her as words began to echo in aching head, trying to calm her breathing, steady her nerve. This was no place to be out in the open, mountains in the distance, and ice. Gods all the ice.

So, this is what betrayal feels like. Laying on a barren planet that looked to be nothing but of ice and frozen hell. Betrayal was laying with your lower half shattered, praying for death and hoping your screams would draw someone or something that would end the misery. A crunching of ice had her moving to sit up with a whimpering screech to grab for a weapon, anything she had left only for it to be kicked away. Pain shooting from her hand, down to shattered lower half, falling to her back with a yelp and quick surrender.

More crunching ice, trying to look through the haze of pain at who or what was surrounding her. Then again maybe she didn’t want to know, eyes trying to focus as the ice cracked directly next to her, looking up as someone kneeled to look her broken body over.

“Your spine is shattered. No doubt from the fall,” the person, sounded like a man spoke, it seemed they were staying out of her sight, but then again like it would matter. The blinding pain was now thankfully easing due to the cold making it go numb.

A witty remark was on the tip of her tongue, ready to spill forth but more ice cracking had her realizing he wasn’t alone as well at the snort of a horse. Though he remained kneeling, there was a larger, taller being at his back asking what to do with her.

“Go back to the palace. I will return shortly with our guest,” was all the man uttered to the giant that nodded and left them, the man inching closer, not caring if it hurt as his hand traced over shivering side to shattered pelvis. “Try to keep your screams down. This will hurt and I don’t want an ice beast breathing down my back. I don’t have time to call him off,” was the last words spoken, not given time to ask what he meant before the pained worsened.

To stifle the scream as bones returned to there proper place, she shoved the fleshy pad under her thumb into her mouth. Teeth breaking the calloused hide to taste copper as it all reset, head falling back to the cold ice and relishing in the coolness of it on her over heating body. She knew she was freezing out here, hand falling from her mouth as it seemed the worst was done, or that was until he lifted her over his shoulder with ease. The man getting into the saddle as if he was just hoisting himself and pulling her to sit sideways in front of him.

This still didn’t afford her a glimpse of his face, covered in a fur hood. A spur had the horse starting forward at an easy trot that didn’t jostle her much but had her curious to why he cared if she lived or died.

“Where am I,” her groggy voice asked.

“Jotunheim,” he responded coldly, hand wrapped in the leather reigns as he spurred the beast faster but not bothering to look down at her.

Slowly she began to become aware, the haze of pain backing off. Looking into the distance to realize they were headed towards what looked to be a dark frozen palace, the figure pulling her tighter to him now her body began to shake harder. Dawning on her she was thrown to the frozen ground in nothing more than the clothes she had worn to bed, a thin tank top and loose lounge pants, no socks, no shoes. Lucky enough to have taken to keeping a knife strapped to her ankle, she thought as they trotted past palace gates into the frozen courtyard that looked like it had been recently rebuilt.

The shivering woman he held to was so mesmerized by the palace she never realized they had stopped at the bottom of the palace steps. Jolting the instant one of the blue, leather skinned giants stepped forward, supposedly reaching out to her so the man could dismount. Not meaning to seem desperate, she clung to the figure that let out a quiet chuckle but spoke an order that made the giant back off.

Tossing her over his shoulder once again, the shivering was now uncontrollable as teeth began to chatter. Looking around worriedly as she was carried up the steps to gods knew where, she was used to space craft, not this. The place looked like something out of one of those novels from Terra. Y/N slightly relieved when he pulled her into his arms to pull her close, sharing a little of his body heat. She was unashamed that she cuddled into the man, it was better than the freezing cold that didn’t seem to end as he carried her down the corridor.

The only time she looked up was when the room heated suddenly. At this she perked up, looking around to realize he had carried her into a room that looked warm, inviting, very luxurious. Cringing slightly as she was sat to freezing feet to scurry over to the fireplace that was in the room. The chuckle he let out calling her attention back to him as she huddled in a crouch next to the flame to get warm.

Finally, he removed the hood and cloak. Her glowing chartreuse orbs sparkling with fire light as she watched him like a predator. Not that she meant to fix him with the gaze, it was instinct, her nature. Taking in his long raven black hair that was slicked back but neatly styled, his skin not pale but with a healthy color, fair complexion. Black and dark green leathers adoring his person as well as a green cape, but unable to look away from the emerald green orbs that sparkled back at her.

“What do they call you,” the man began, noting she was occupied with getting warm and looking him over that she didn’t seem to think about it as she uttered a name.

“Y/N? That is a Midgardian name,” the man spoke, the woman finally noting the conversation, as well as the predatory look in his own eyes.

“Midgardian? What is that,” she asked carefully, never hearing anyone speak quite like him as he stepped towards her, this time she felt a shiver run her spine and it wasn’t the cold.

“Earth? Terra? You fell from the sky, from a space craft, yet…,” the man began, reaching a hand out to grasp her bicep as she remained squatted before the fire. It appeared he was thinking of pulling her close, but every fiber screamed at her to fight.

With a quick spring back, a wolf replaced the woman. All be it a large one, she was a wolf none the less, fur healthy and glistening it the fire light. Apparently he wasn’t afraid of her and even backed the large beast into a corner. His moves told the wolf, the woman, the creature one and the same, that he was apex predator in this place.

“Come now. You were just clinging to me the entire time I had you in my arms,” he smiled to her, finally stopping a few feet from the snarling beast, fangs glittering and sharp in the fire light.

“Calm down. No need for this to end in blood. I'm trying to help. Let us speak like civilized people. Return to your mortal form and I will be glad to find you clothes,” the man bargained as the cloak appeared in his hand, but she would have none of it. A snapping of teeth and she had him on his back, fangs at his throat. Or that was before she was tossed cruelly to the stone floor, back cracking but not breaking.

With a yelp the wolf rolled to her feet sorely. Obvious he had re-injured her as she collapsed to the floor, refusing to  give up the form she was in. The man approaching her carefully, reaching out to lay a hand over her back but she snapped at it, sharp fangs pinching the skin to draw blood. With a hiss he drew away, stepping back for a golden collar to materialize in the bleeding hand.

“Very well. You want to behave like a beast, then I will gladly grant you the form to think over your actions,” he snapped before she finally began to black out.

The man kneeling before her to place the collar around her neck, to weak to fight. A low whimper escaping as she was lifted into his arms to be placed on the foot of the bed. It was apparent she hadn’t deterred his curiosity as a steady hand ghosted over a silky winter coat. A tingling following in its wake as she could feel consciousness slipping away once more.

Tags open! And re-blogs are ALWAYS welcomed!

Tags: @dark-night-sky-99  @prettybubblesintheair  @gramaeryebard  @reallyheckinggay  @jovanna-shewolf  @andiyholly  @katstablook   @nickyl316h  @beets1bears1battlestargalactica @aslandia726 @moonfaery @furstinnajoelle   @itsbqueenthings @lookwhatyoumademequeue

@whovianwookie86-captainxev@jazzieomega @moonlightprime @bambamwolf87 @tomhardy41 @get-loki @drakonwild

[simplerthingslikewatchinglt]

Chapter Eleven

The patience in me had already left when I didn't recieve a call from Laurent all day yesterday and today. I was inpatient , I wanted to speak to him for some reason - maybe hear more about his dancing with Beyoncé, missy Elliot or about his travels to France and through out America -something I wish I could do if I had the money. Staying in my room all night yesterday and today was starting to become bothersome, I wanted an exscuse to go outside like before, which was about my phone but this time I had no exscuse. Sitting in the middle of my bed I needed to smoke, grabbing the pack of new ports that laid flat beside me I took one cig out of its carton parting my lips in the time being, I dangled the cig in between my parted lips. Atleast I can smoke , that was the first thing on my mind, atleast I can, thinking once more . On a winter day the clouds were grey with no sun out in sight just like before, maybe it'll snow this time ? My mother, that bitch, did not wanting me leaving this household for nothing . I wasn't a minor anymore but I sure wasn't a full grown adult in my mothers eyes , including my own. It was very annoying to be trapped in my room plus boring , smoking about half way through the cigarette I came to a decision to go on YouTube using my APPLE laptop and search up "Less Twins" purposely spelling it the way the Dj had pronounced it. It was then I came across the autocorrect which was actually spelled 'Les twins' - Boredem really had strucked me when I noticed my cig ashes were starting to be more then the cigarette itself, I usually smoked all of my cigarette but this time my eyes were glued on the screen as I watch the twins begin dancing. I wasn't bored of watching the twins, I was bored in general.

They were dope on screen, it was like watching two mechanical robots doing unbelievable movements but in person was a whole 'nother level - they were amazing in person it was then besides me, my phone began to vibrate , facing upwards I peeked at the screen. Boyfriend was calling and all I thought about was who the fuck did I save as boyfriend in my contacts - I slide my index finger across the screen to answer,  "hello?".

"Kiki my girl .."

Laurent? It sure sounded like him, right when I was beginning to gather my words to speak over a flustered babbling he spoke again " see I told you I was going to call"  once I finally had gathered my words I spoke in a questionable tone

" And why did you save yourself as boyfriend in my phone ?"

"Because I am" he was beginning to take this on going joke a little too far .

"Well I would like for us to see each other again Kiki , and this time no running in bathrooms okai? " inunision I chuckled at his last words .

"Well where would you want to meet ? " perfect exscuse to get out

"Anywhere , maybe your place ?" almost dropping my lit cigarette on my bed sheets in reaction  the way I choked on my own "what?"

"Your not coming to my place Laurent"

"Okai... so back to my hotel then ?" What harm could be done there right ?

"Umm I'll have to think about it , I mean what'll we do once I get there ?"

"Kiki.. we will talk . No sex or anything like that I'm a gentleman" Yeah sex was the last thing on my mind, I think , Laurent was handsome but we hardly knew each other.

***

Once I made it to the hotel he was staying in , I was met by him in the lobby. He sported a "calm" outfit this time around , wearing all black with no accessories or shades , pretty basic I would say . As for me I thought more carefully into what I was wearing this time for a reason I can't explain , I wore the pea coat I had on our first encounter underneath the pea coat was a navy blue turtle neck sweater shirt that was a tad tight from too many washes and drying, the shirt cupped my B cup breast while my tight ripped jeans hugged at my small curves . My hair just passing my shoulders, and my nails matched my sweater this time .

I approached Laurent he seemed more pleased to see me then his twin would be, maybe ?

"Come..We go now" He was smiling with his lips tucked inside of his mouth reaching out to me. I'd dismissed his hand reached, nothing to be rude about but I just didn't want people assuming unnecessary things.

"Ouch.." he whispered in a "false" hurt tone, mocking my actions but still seemed to laugh about it . We both walked side by side towards the elevator - once inside he pressed to floor eighteen just like last time . The difference from last time in the elevator was this time we weren't so close together.  He stood in front of me, eyes focus on the elevator numbers going up.

Once we arrived to the destined floor, we walked towards a different hotel room from before. It made sense that the twins wouldn't share the same room so I didn't question the fact. We got inside the room, it was decked out just like the lobby seemed to be bigger than Larry's room as well. There was no gold but sure enough there was a lot of decorative paintings and a huge king size bed that was placed in the middle of the room.

"Let's play a game Kiki" Laurent said as he jumped onto the bed, bouncing in the process .

"A game ?"

"Yeah a game"

So this is what he wanted  ? My mind drifted to sexual thoughts as it was just us alone , no Larry, nor Adelia in sight. There was an awkward silence between us , as my mind was in the gutter thinking of the dirtiest things that would happen if I participated in this game Laurent sat at the edgeof the bed. He'd stopped bouncing and as if in a serious manner, both arms on his knees , a smirk played on his lips as he sat hunched over .

"C'mon (come on) Kiki it will be fun~" Laurent said while stretching out his words , what harm could be done ?  I nodded my head in agreement, it was then his smirk turned into a smile growing  big as if compared to a happy child he shot  up on both feet moving off the bed and digging into his bookbag that laid flat on the bedside - I assumed it must've been his carryon . I watched him curiously, dirty thoughts filling my mind believing that this game would consider something sexual until i seen him whip out a deck of cards.  These cards reminded me of childhood, reminded me at how bad I was at the game to be honest. ..It was the dreadful game called UNO, the original version.

"You played before, no ?"  He  said to me , looking up to me while I stand , I moved my head in a up and down motion. He knew that meant 'yes'  - " come , take off your shoes. Come to the bed" he motioned his hand to the bed giving it a few pats before standing, I did as I was told taking off my shoes - "And coat... Kiki" he gestured. In honest truth, I was shy to take off my coat, I'm not too sure why... maybe it was because of my self consciousness of my own body or the clothes that I was wearing, I do not know , all I know was that I still did as I was told without hesitation.

I sat on the bed, where I sat across from Laurent whom sat with his legs folded. I decided to sit that way as well. There he began to discard seven cards between the both of us putting the rest of the deck on the side.

Laurent is innoncent at this point, just only wanted to play UNO with me and do nothing else made me feel relax, more comfortable . My body relaxed, getting more comfortable and turning my posture from straight to hunch, " so who goes first?" I questioned, he answered quickly " you" .

I looked at the seven cards that was held in my hands spread apart, all bad numbers, no 'draw 4' or 'reversal cards' just plain number '5,8,1,3,3,9,1' none were yellow, only blue, red and green. I pulled the first number on my left, the red one, number five, then it was Laurent's turn to draw, he immediately pulled out a 'draw 4 card' . There was a silence at first before Laurent began to giggle, an "ah" left his mouth while our eyes met, he knew I was going to lose. I drew four cards from the deck, numbers '4,3,7,1' another bad hand. I pulled the first number that matched the same color, number seven and sighed, Im gonna lose .

“Let's spice it up.." said Laurent, spice it up? I quickly responded, "spice it up" , he nodded his head up and down, a signed 'yes'.

"Spice it up how ?" I asked .

"If you lose .... you kiss me, if I lose I kiss you ."  He smirked at me which caused me to give out a small blush . A kiss? But where though? I thought to myself, I was nervous somewhat - about a kiss, or maybe about the fact we hardly knew eahother . I wasn't sure of my own thoughts .

"Where at though ?" I questioned,

"I no understand..." he responded, ofcourse he wouldn't understand as a kiss to him could mean automatically on the lips .

"Meaning, a kiss on the forehead or-"

"Lips ofcourse" he quickly cut me off , speaking in a tone that was easy to read as if saying duh' to me. In response I rolled my eyes. With  his cards still in his hands not once tilting them downwards, our eyes stayed on each other , Laurent must've read how I was feeling about this new "spice it up" thing because he, in response tucked his smile into his mouth before speaking once more . " okai (okay) ... lets make it easy . If you lose , you kiss me ... anywhere. If I lose, I kiss you... anywhere. Better ?"  The rules were simple, if one of us lost we would have to kiss the other person anywhere we'd like. I didn't know what to feel nor think about in this  situation, other than to simply agree to it . " yeah ... I think so " I responded, unsure on what to feel.

" I can't wait to lose" Laurent said, positioning himself in a more 'serious' matter , I didn't want to ask what would happen if one of us were to win because now the game was about a lose, lose situation. It did not matter on who won, it mattered on who lost and where the kiss would be planted . I need to lose .

Authors notes :

I made this chapter prettty lengthy, almost two thousand words which is a lot to me lol. I hope you guys like this one - I have not played UNO in ages . Also keep In mind the boys are still young so I wanted to play with the childish side of them like how they use to be when they were in their early 20's and would  bring their PlayStation and stuff like that with them on travels

[lycorogue]

Meet My OCs: Willow (Part 4 – Images)

We've made it to the home stretch! This post should be a lot more fun, though, because you get to literally see Willow! I shared some images here and there throughout this mini-series about Willow, but the vast majority of my images of her will be below. 

Before I continue, how about another quick recap of my Meet My OCs series thus far?

I started up this multi-post series almost exactly a month ago. I had wanted to do something like this for MONTHS, and I'm finally getting my lazy butt in gear. This way, you guys get a chance to learn about these vocal people that have been hanging out in my head for years.

In Part 1 of this series, I introduced the concept, as well as explained the real-world influences that helped me create my two story worlds of Gyateara and Glitches.

Part 2 of the series talked about the inspiration that birthed each of my four main Gyateara characters.

Part 3a did the same, but for my four main teenage Glitches characters.

Part 3b then talked about the Glitches main supportive cast of six adult characters; each one originating as a canonical X-Men character.

Today is Part 4 Day; the official start of the individualized characters' bio posts. I couldn't think of anyone better to start off the next part of the series than my most present character: Willow Driver.

In Meet Willow: Part 1, I shared Willow's background, gave an overview of her personally, and talked about her powers.

Meet Willow: Part 2 focused on her main relationships.

The epic post that made up Meet Willow: Part 3 told her plot line/story arc main events within the play-by-post game X-Future that Willow originated in. The end of the post also discussed which of those main plot events will find their way to my original story Glitches.

Next up, I’ll have a few writing samples to showcase Willow, and I’ll conclude today’s massive series of posts with two customized wrestler entrances I created on Hubby’s WWE13 game. So.. just two more to look out for! 0_0

All caught up? Great! So let's get to the fun of Willow's Multi-media presence. Starting with some more fun art of her.

I know I already shared this in Meet Willow: Part 1, but I love this image of Willow so much I'm going to show it off whenever possible.

Prior to commissioning @edendaphne to draw me the gorgeous above photo, I had some other hand-drawn artwork of Willow. For two different birthdays, @chibisunnie included the X-Future core group for personalized cards she drew me.

Check out the full-quality image on her DeviantArt

Hubby and I routinely pointed out the almost perfect parallels between the “Girl Meets World” characters Lucas, Maya, and Riley and our X-Future characters Chayse, Willow, and Lia, respectively. So Chibi went ahead and drew Chayse, Willow, and Lia as Lucas, Maya, and Riley all hanging out in Riley's bay window.

Check out the full-quality image on her DeviantArt

Last birthday, I wanted Chibi to have my X-Future characters interacting with her Team Giraffe Guy characters. Willow is dancing with her OC Todd, Trish is giving her OC Zahir a mini-heart attack, and Lia is chilling with her OC Bob the Pumpkin Cat from her other original story The Pumpkin Prince.

I still absolutely love how energetic Willow looks in both of these images, and I think Chibi really captured who she is. <3

Prior to the commissioned piece by Eden, or the two works of fanart as birthday cards drawn for me by Chibi, I used doll makers to help me visualize Willow.

My first incarnation of Willow was thanks to a hodge-podge of items designed by ChaZie for her Dollz over on Dollz Mania. (anyone else remember these being huge in the early 2000s?) You see, ChaZie designed easily a hundred different Dollz creators/designers, each of them with their own themes: Halloween, fantasy, fairies, Scene, Kardashians, Lady Gaga, Valentine's Day, etc. Back in 2012, I had spent WEEKS saving nearly every element of nearly every doll designer ChaZie created. I gathered them all into one MASSIVE Photoshop file with nearly all of ChaZie's doll bases, hair, clothing, accessories, pets, etc. That way I wasn't restricted by the designer theme groupings ChaZie created; I could take hair from Lady Gaga, put it with a Halloween costume, and throw on some fairy wings. Using this method of Frankensteining ChaZie's designs, I created a large portion of the early X-Future cast. One of the firsts was, obviously, Willow, shown here in her first X-Men uniform design.

Sorry for the quality. My computer crashed about 3yrs ago, and I lost that ChaZie dollz design master file, so all of the ChaZie design dolls I showcase will be downloads of my posting the images online.

Anyway, once Sebastian was introduced into the X-Future canon, I decided to re-design Willow to see how she might look in the future. So, here is Mama Willow with newborn baby Sebastian, as well as Adult Willow in a much more traditional X-Men uniform as she took on the mantle of one of the Great Protectors.

Finally, a picture of Willow in street clothes while with her brother Shawn. I had already posted this in Meet Willow: Part 2, when I talked about their relationship. However, why not re-share it, right?

A couple of years into playing X-Future, I was introduced to the Chibi Maker doll generator by gen8. (can also be found here) I couldn't resist coming up with Chibi-fied images for the main X-Future characters. Naturally, I went with Willow's classic Cheshire Cat illusion for her chibi verseion.

After losing my ChaZie master file, I tried to rebuild it, but at that point Dollz Mania had shut down. I'm slowly beginning to find ChaZie's doll makers popping up on other websites, but I needed other alternatives for character designs and re-designs. That was when I was introduced to the X-Girl doll maker by Candy. I've had a lot of fun designing characters in this game, and decided to re-designs Willow to give her a more mature look now that she's not 15 anymore.

Hubby and I also tried to re-create, and then re-design, Willow's X-uniform.

I really like how the uniform re-design turned out.

I was fairly content on my representation of Willow with the wide variety of above images. Then, late last year, I started playing the fashion designer mobile game Love, Nikki.

I was just enjoying the game for what it was; not even thinking about X-Future/Glitches. But then I started finding more and more blue and white clothes that made me think “Willow would like that.” Soon that was my mission. I found a few white/silver hair options that I tried out, and aimed for a make-up set that would give me aquamarine eyes. Since hitting my main Willow make-up and hair goals, I've had loads of fun designing and re-designing Willow in the game.

The blue and white striped socks and those blue eyes were what first made me want to find a way to build Willow. I also tried out just about any silver/white hair and blue eyes combo.

After getting the aquamarine eyes I loved, the next trick was trying out the hair styles. There are soooo many platinum-white, white, gray, or silver hair styles in this game! This isn't even all of them; just the ones that seemed Willow-esque. First up was an an attempt to keep Willow's short hair:

Picture #3 was the only one that really worked, and I ran with that hair for a little bit. I just liked the pseudo-punk look of those sharp edges.

A lot more of these could possibly work, although they aren't the Willow I had in my head. Even so, I could picture Willow with hair styles #2, #3, and #4.

I really can't picture Willow growing her hair out so long. It would bother her to have so much of it. However, out of the above pictures, #2 would be close, if it were the right color. Beyond that, I think #4 feels the most like Willow, with #1 being close behind.

Sadly, the ones that are the closest to Willow's hair style are all the wrong color. #1 is almost exactly Willow's hair style, just parted the wrong way; her longer side is over the right eye. Although it's a bit too short, and clearly the wrong color, #2 is at least parted on the correct side, and it does have some blue tips; probably the second closest to her canonical look. I could picture Willow in all of those hair styles, though.

This hair style isn't all that bad, and it is pale, but it's still platinum-blonde instead of Willow’s silver.

After a LOT of working and re-working, I decided this hair style works best. It's short, but not terribly masculine, choppy, or overly fancy. It's also the right shade of silver, and the low-lights in the hair almost look like they're blue. Once I had it figured out, the next trick was the outfit. I had her in this one for quite some time. Then I was playing Love, Nikki during the winter. I also got some coats that would work really well for her. I went formal and fantastical with the cape, and then more canonical and “real world” with the down vest. For both images I also included some extras that made it look like she was creating illusions.

I then had to switch her up for spring:

And again for summer, so this is what she's currently wearing in my game:

We'll see what other kinds of visuals I can make of Willow over the next few months/years.

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

Alright, well now that you have a good mental image of what Willow looks like, how about we find out how she talks and acts?

Next up: Meet My OCs: Willow (Part 5 – Stories)

[aj-draws]

Future Sanders Sides Teacher AU Fic Ideas (Pt 1)

Just a little something I’ve been thinking about writing for a long time now??

 These are just ideas!! I might make oneshots here and there, but I want to try and make this into an actual story on Wattpad or something during summer vacation.

[[Thank you so very much for getting me to post this @royallyanxious you’re amazing :) Oh and btw I was that anon that said they liked your Logicality FBI agent AU fanfic. I’m super anxious but I hope you like this anyway!]]

[[Tag list: @izzynuggets, @diadrip]] 

Summary: The sides are teachers in a highschool that Thomas and his friends go to. 

-It’s also sort of a human AU as well. The sides will naturally have different last names, which I have not entirely decided yet. (+Afterschool they all have part time jobs across the street from each other but there’ll be more about that in a part two or three I’ll try getting to in the future)

[[Characters]]

Logan:

-Science teacher (Living Environment honors and/or Chemistry)  

-Part time job as a librarian

-Wants to keep being a teacher

-Speaks fluently in salty

-His choice of wear is a mix between casual and formal. Slicked back hair (with hair gel), tightly fitted polo shirts, leather belts, jeans and his signature blue and black tie 

-Definitely wears different ties with a theme fitted for each and every holiday 

-Can accurately quote books off the top of his head

-When he's too tired to do anything, he just binges Doctor Who and Sherlock with his classes

-(Based on this one Logan skit on Thomas’ insta I think y’all know what I’m talking about) He brought an entire toaster that he keeps in his classroom just so he could eat toast with Crofter’s 24/7.

-He eats Crofter’s with everything he eats and it scares everyone sometimes. Like he’ll just be casually teaching as he spreads the jam onto a slice of pizza and everyone’s a little concerned 

-Once during a test he sees one of his students struggling and suddenly their stomach rumbles loudly and as everyone laughs he just makes them a sandwich and tells them that they could take the test tomorrow

-Whenever a student doodles on one of their assignments, he finishes the picture with a crayon and he loves it when they see it and smile it makes his day

-He’s that teacher that you’re terrified of at first but then you realize they’re awesome (He has a resting bitchface that scares the heck out of everyone on the first day of school)

-Him being a sort of psychologist toward his students and they come to him (and Patton) with problems and mental breakdowns. He’s terrible at the comforting part of what to do when a person’s crying, but he’s excellent at figuring out the students’ problem or problems at helping them change their schedule/bad habits to fix it

-Him reassuring his students that-no matter what society says-just because they aren't good at math or science doesn't mean that they're useless and stupid+grades are not everything

-His students adoring him for being so realistic and understanding that school can be stressful sometimes

-His students calling him mom

-Him being so sleep deprived one day that as he was writing something on the board, he used incorrect grammar and once he got corrected, he just slowly walks over to his desk and sits under it for a solid minute 

-He hardly ever loses his cool. Ever. He handles those few immature kids in his class with ease, threatening them firmly or just completely roasting them so that they’re too busy laughing/being stunned to disrupt class. 

-But once he just gave up. He silently turns around and s n a p s. 

-He lets out this unholy screech that echoes throughout the school and shakes the nearby classrooms and scares away the birds perched on a tree outside and the chalk in his hand breaks in half the students are terrified they’ve never heard a sound of that volume from Logan’s mouth and they’re wondering if this is is what they’ll hear when the pits of hell breaks open at their feet-

-And then Logan just pauses. He takes a long drink from the water bottle on his desk, sets it down, adjusts his tie, clears his throat, then continues on with the lesson like nothing happened. Everyone agrees that that’s the scariest thing they’ve ever seen and heard in their lives. 

Patton:

-Art and home economics teacher (He has one homeroom art class in the morning, then a home ec class after lunch where he teaches stuff like cooking/baking, time management, money management, food, etc...)

-Part time job as a barista

-Wants to own his own bakery (or just be a stay at home dad)

-Speaks fluently in puns

-Whenever he has a student that he thinks is in a bad mood, he personally tapes some sort of dessert he baked to their locker on a plate with a nice post-it note taped to it

-His students call him dad

-During a rainy day, he sees some kid waiting for their late parent to pick them up outside at dismissal and he walks up to them and covers their head with his cardigan and invites them inside his classroom instead of waiting in the rain

-He frequently gets into pun/prank wars with his students

-Depending on how he’s feeling, when he sees a student sleeping in class, he’ll either blast an airhorn into their ear or lay a blanket on their back there’s no in between

-Once his class was so loud and rambunctious and he got so stressed out because he didn’t know how to deal with it that he just started crying and his students had to comfort him and no one dared to make him cry ever again

-He once forgot where he lost his glasses while he was cooking something and he asked his students to help him find them and they looked for them the entire period and no one could find it

-No one told him his glasses were right atop his head.

Roman:

-Drama teacher (Sometimes subs for the Chorus teacher, who is always absent because she's very sickly)  

-Part time job as a florist/works at a flower shop

-Wants to be a future actor on broadway

-Speaks fluently in Disney songs/musical references

-The most fashionable out of the four. He has a bunch of different outfits depending on the season. For winter and fall, he wears lots of sweaters, leather jackets, dress pants, scarves and sometimes flannel around the waist. For summer and spring, he’ll be wearing button downs, sunglasses, loose t-shirts, and jeans/shorts. 

-During play rehearsal, he puts on a red sash (and his Princey clothing basically) because he claims he needs to get ‘in the play spirit’ (when in reality he just likes wearing his old prince costume from a play he was in in the past)

-Not all of his students like him (he can be vv loud and extravagant), but his theater kids honestly adore him. They love his passion for singing, acting and musicals.

-They cheer Roman on and completely support his dream of performing on broadway one day. They secretly (and shamelessly) support him every chance they can get on social media.

-That teacher that, when he sees an artsy student, will catch them drawing during class and instead of telling them to pay attention will fanboy over their art and tell them how amazing it looks so usually art students also love him

-Knows the latest gossip about a lot of the students in the school

-Purposely casts the two students he knows has a crush on each other as the two main characters that have to stage kiss 

-One of his students gave him a Burger King crown and he cried and wore it for the rest of the week and attacked any other teacher that tried to take it off his head (*cough cough* Virgil *cough*)

Virgil:

-English teacher

-Part time job as a tattoo artist/works at a tattoo shop

-Wants to be a YouTuber/blogger (and write stories online)

-Speaks fluently in sarcasm/memes

-On the first day of school he wears normal teacher like clothing, but then the rest of the year he wears hoodies and casual t-shirts and sweatpants that he hides under a long jacket (he’s technically supposed to be all formal and whatever, but he ain’t got time for that)

-He dreams to get this original story he's been working on for years published one day. This story is basically a fantasy AU involving characters based off him, Logan, Patton and Roman.

-When he reads excerpts from books, his kids go wild because he can do Thomas' narrator/storyteller voice (the one where his voice drops a million octaves) 

-Whenever a woman/girl speaks, his voice jumps up a million octaves and he purposely squeaks/sounds like someone on helium and it gets his classes cracking up

-The kind of guy that uses the dankest of memes on worksheets/in presentations

-A lot of students really love him. The ones who like ELA are in love with his writing and storytelling. The one who don't even like ELA still like his class because he's good at keeping them engaged.

-Just like Logan, he has a natural talent for mercilessly roasting those immature kids that fool around in his class

-He'll randomly ramble away and sink into a hole of existential crisis but his students still like that side of him because it's just relatable.

-He's incredibly flexible and he can be found sitting/lying on places that probably shouldn't be sat/laid on. Once he was just casually reading a book sitting in one of those pretzels on his desk and a student screeched.

-He constantly gets compared to a cat. He hisses at Roman when he's frustrated with him, the students find him on top of furniture that isn't meant to be sat on, he says perfect as 'purrfect' and his noise twitches a lot. He used to be like nahh whatcha talking about until Roman gifted him with a cat plushie one day and he finally admitted that cats were his favorite animal (Bonus-His students joke about him being a furry a lot)

-His artsy students draw him fanart all the time and he loves it sooo much. (Bonus-Someone drew him, Pat, Roman and Lo as cats and he almost cried)

((There’s part one! Part two will either be about their part time jobs, or their interactions with each other as teachers. Feedback is greatly appreciated, thank you!!))

[areyoulookingforanintern]

WEAVING STORIES /Artefact Magazine

Originally published on Artefact Magazine, 

https://www.artefactmagazine.com/2020/01/29/weaving-stories/

Fate is a funny thing; the ancient Greeks believed it was the Moirai, who controlled fate through the art of spinning and weaving. One crone to hold the string, another to measure it out, and the final crone to decide when it is time to cut.

Penelope, the wife of Odysseus in Homer’s Odyssey, was a weaver; it was said that she would weave a shroud by day and unravel it by night to keep potential suiters at bay while she waited for Odysseus to return.

The Roman poet, Publius Ovidius Naso (Ovid), wrote about the story of Philomela: a Princess raped by the husband of her sister. The husband threatened her to keep silent, but she was defiant, and had her tongue cut out as punishment.

Unable to speak, she wove the story into a tapestry and sent it to her sister. The sisters killed the sons born to the husband and served them to him in a meal; praying to the gods for protection, Philomela and her sisters were turned into a nightingale and a swallow.

Weaving, one of the oldest skills, is intertwined in everything: from our myths to our clothes, and yet it is a medium that is under-acknowledged.

Premier Vision is one of the leading French companies responsible for organizing textile and fashion trade shows. Twice a year, they host trade shows that revolve around a changing concept. For the Feburary 2020 show the brief is the word ‘Revelry’, meaning lively and noisy festivities.

UAL weaving student Caitlin Hartmann will be attending the show with samples of her textile work and hopes that she will be able to sell her unique designs.

Caitlin has chosen to interoperate with the Premier Vision brief, ‘Revelry’, in a fantastical way, coincidentally in spirit with the myths and stories surrounding the actual skill. “I wanted to look at something much more frivolous essentially. The brief itself is called ‘Revelry’ so you want it to be something fun” Caitlin said. Drawing inspiration from the nature of Scotland, her own photography, and exhibitions she had seen recently, she emphasised a William Blake exhibition at the Tate Britain.

“He often looks at things about the supernatural and fairies. A few of them really drew themselves to me. I realised I kept going back to that way of thinking [about Revelry], so I thought I would look into something to do with fairies or mythologies, thinking about summer solstice and all the abbreviations of that [like] looking into Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

In connection to Scotland, where Caitlin spent her summer and visited right before Christmas, inspiration was found in poems about the Lady of the Lake, connected to the Scottish lake, Loch Arthur.

“When I looked down the pathway of the Lady of the Lake, a lot of the poems that were written about her were all based on lakes in a really Moor-y Scotland and by the lochs; so, it is really misty and blue, pale and magical in that sense”.

During her trips to Scotland, Caitlin’s photography is mainly based on different elements of water, mist, and fog. That kind of drew me down a pathway of looking at things from woodland to water”.

During her trips to Scotland, Caitlin’s photography is mainly based on different elements of water, mist, and fog. That kind of drew me down a pathway of looking at things from woodland to water”.

While on one of her trips to visit her dad in Scotland, they went to a new restaurant that opened in Newport-on-Tay. The restaurant has an amazing view over the river Tay, allowing guests to see two bridges that cross the river to Dundee.

“I photographed it whilst I was in the restaurant at lunchtime and it had the most beautiful foggy-misty scene, and different tones of blue”. Caitlin prints all her photographic research out on high-quality photography paper as the colour can change drastically from what is seen on a phone and what is seen in real life – this always helps with colour matching when shopping for yarn.

The main trio that provides the overarching colour inspiration for Caitlin’s piece for Premier Vison are blue; all three photos have a variant of grey and blue gradients going through the picture.

The pictures were all taken at different times of the day during the visit, which gives a much richer sense of tone to the area, as well as an understanding how a place can change so drastically.

The main blue collection can be compared, and aligned with this photo taken outside the restaurant. By then the day had turned into a much darker and moodier colour – just before nightfall.

The greys and blues tie well with the main blue collection seen above. However, the photo also has whites and pinks, offering further connection with the more moss and tree oriented pictures and their colour scheme.

The greys featured in the photo are also similar to the greys used in William Blake’s ‘Oberon, Titania and Puck with Fairies Dancing’, as well as the light peachy pink.

The winding for this photograph uses green, pink, and a light brown – corresponding well with the other earthy photos she has produced. The winding mimics the way that the colour travels through the photo, no matter what way the winding is rotated.

This colour palette stays coherent throughout all the natural and earthy research photos – it is important to note that black is never used in any of the windings as it is much too harsh.

This photo of a tree stump closely aligning with the imagery of William Blake’s Oberon, Titania and Puck with Fairies Dancing, in colour scheme but also in imagery: “This was the photo that was taken from the wood recycling place, it has connotations of fairy wings or moth wings inside bark of the tree. I thought it was really beautiful”.

Similar to the bark with fairy wings, this photo of a beached jellyfish carries the same colour palette but with almost more of a celestial feeling; again bringing in connotations to William Blake’s work, specifically the Angels Hovering over The Body of Christ in the Sepulchre.

The navy used in the natural windings is also keeps up with the main trio of blues taken at the Newport on Tay restaurant. “I didn’t want to make it too harsh, I wanted to make it like it bonded with the rest of the work.

I am using these navy colours in some of my other pieces I thought it translate easier into the blue sections”.

“The last vestiges of autumn, I really like the different shaping and how it travelled around. It is a much closer detail as opposed to looking at something as a whole, far away in the landscape”, offering contrast to looking at the leaf as whole object on its own, Caitlin also has a companion photo that offers the alternative perspective of the whole landscape.

The colour scheme of greens and delicate reds and oranges, the reminiscence of autumn before winter, stay the same but the context changes giving it new meaning and understanding.

The corresponding windings for the images featured more mossy tones that are less hard and cold than the bark and jellyfish windings.

The research that goes into developing one of Caitlin’s textile designs is not always necessarily imagery-based. “I often think it is quite hard to look into what other weavers might do; It’s amazing to see the history of weave before you, but to then translate that into your own work can often be seen as copying”.

Instead Caitlin would rather draw inspiration from fine artists and other textile designers, and then go off a do research through photography and drawings. “It is a process of looking at the world around you based on the influence of the theme that you are going for, and then translating that through paintings in my art book, that will form the basis.”

Alternatively, lots of inspirations or research for Caitlin’s projects comes from interviews with people that are relevant to the chosen theme. “I will start, quite unusually I think, from a word basis to then get colour depictions and ideas from”.

Her last project looked at alternating perspectives in contrast to her own; the project was based in and about Morocco. “I wanted to think about the way I see Morocco and the way someone the same age as me, who is at the same point in life as me, sees the country completely differently based on different perspectives”.

During a trip to Morocco, Caitlin met a boy, same age as her and in the same point of life, who’s perspective of Morocco became the ground research for the project.

Throughout the project, Caitlin kept in constant dialogue with the boy about how they each see colour differently. Asking him series of questions about how he saw Morocco.

“One of his answers that really caught me was when I asked him to summarize it through this colour perceptive, he said that he saw it as a mixture of dark colours with small drops of red that are filled with the love that his family have for him. That then formed the grounds for the majority of my weaving”.

Caitlin made her warp threads, the threads used to weave into, out of blue-black and green threads. An extra warp, which you can bring in and out of the weaving, of red thread was used to convey the red drops filled with familiar love. She conducted three formal interviews with her friend: one in the beginning, one in the middle, and one in the end, to keep a constant communication between research and researching – like live fact-checking.

After the first interview, Caitlin created a colour pallet purely based off of what she had been told, this helped her make colour studies surrounding the raw pallet.

She sent them to her friend and asked if this is what he meant when he was being interviewed the first time, “the colours had changed meaning; I showed him a colour of red, he said initially it meant happiness but I mixed it with a much darker tone and added some different bits of black to it, so he said no, this now represents more of a depression.

“I said it was still the same colour you [he] told me, he said when you have added these other components it has changed the meaning. It really shows how colour is such a fluid concept, and that it changes depending on perspective and position in the world”. His response to her first colour studies made her tweak and change it until eventually her final piece was created, this she sent to him too for a final interview.

The final piece was very different to the initial samplings that Caitlin has made and become attached too, but the end result was a harmonious mix between what she had seen in Morocco as a visitor and what he had experienced in Morocco as a native – further emphasising her original understanding of differing perspectives despite being that same age and at the same point of their lives.

Conducting interviews functions as a major part of project research makes the pieces have a much deeper meaning and connection, in contrast to only responding to imagery with no outside viewpoints or information – very different from the current Premier Vision project that is majorly based on reaction to imagery.

Research stemming from a word basis to create colour depiction was only a recent methodology that Caitlin experimented with during her foundation year – at the beginning of her fascination with textiles.

Her final major project, Connotations of Love, was based on paternal love. “I started looking at how different people all understood the same word that we have, that covers so many different things. I wanted to uncover how multi-faceted and fluid the word, and the nature of the word, is”.

Caitlin interviewed her twin sister about her relationship with their father, one that has always been very interesting, she also went ahead and interviewed her.

She also spoke to own father about his relationship to his fathers, “he has his biological one and his stepfather, both of who he has had really difficult relationships with at times… his biological father he did not speak to for 10 years for different reasons, he understood that having two [fathers] did not change the love”.

Caitlin also sought interviews from outside her own family, asking a friend who has never met her father her understanding of paternal love and how different it is for Caitlin and her sister’s understanding and perspective of paternal love. “Love is just a word, it is how you attribute it to your own life that gives it meaning; it is a neutral term, but how you experience can make it good or bad”.

The final piece became very 3D based and interactive for the audience, shown alongside snapshots of the various interviews that Caitlin had done. The main element in the final piece were three large pieces of wood that had been found at a wood recycling place near Caitlin’s house.

“There are these massive pieces of wood that they have, that people have donated or cut down from trees to help repurpose them. They have their own workshop and factory which they make handcrafted items from. I picked this one huge piece of tree with the bark still attached on the edges, which is really rough and natural. They cut it down for me into three pieces which formed the three pillars, where I discussed visually the interpretation of my research”.

Caitlin’s discussion included ceramics found at a workshop that had many old forgotten pieces of china that people did not want anymore; she smashed them against the patio of her home, stemming from her research-based on Ai Weiwei’s installation of a precious vase that had been broken, thought to be high in value.

Caitlin’s own china was repurposed to look like they were coming out of the wood itself – perhaps this can be interpreted as something to do with broken trust. Caitlin also cut out blocks of wood from the bottom of her three pillars, inserting rocks and roses trapped in resin, “trapped in a state of decay,” hanging from string in the now open space.

With the spare wood that she had cut out, she burned it in her garden and featured the ashes at the bottom of each pillar. Her final major project piece is much more multimedia oriented than what she is working on now, “but I would not ever limit myself to one form of medium, because there are so many different ways to express feelings and information that I get.”

In February 2020, after her trip to Paris for Premier Vison, Caitlin will be going to India for a sponsorship opportunity. The sponsorship itself will work as a placement for her final major Bachelors project focused on sustainability and is much more akin to the type of work and weaving that Caitlin aims to do after University.

She will be based in a rural village in north-east India, Nagaland, where she will be able to learn their indigenous techniques of weaving, using a back-strap loom, which is much different the weaving technique she has currently been doing – and not something available to her currently at University.

“It is pretty much the furthest region of India that you can go to, so it has a really interesting cross-cultural mix of its surrounding areas. It is a very tribal area, so it will be really interesting to learn about their culture and history,” she said.

“I am really excited to go and learn about how they do it, and get that real cultural sensitivity to what they are doing but understanding how it works in the wider context of the world”.

The prospect of being able to travel around the world learn how other cultures weave and what it means to them is a much more attractive thought of life after University for Caitlin.

Having a cross-cultural exchange of knowledge that would allow someone to find ways to improve businesses, work as a part of the community, “and not just take from them and what they give me, but also see how I can interact with them on a very holistic level.” Caitlin’s interviewing technique would come in handy in such a life – almost like a weave-specific anthropologist.

The interviews that Caitlin will conduct while in India will work as a ground basis for her final major project as well as the final major project essay. It is all about understanding who they are, who she is in relation to them, as well as understanding their interactions together and the connections she will undoubtedly make; similar to her work in Morocco.

“A lot of their weaving is very culturally rich in heritage and have very specific meanings, and they do not want to have that appropriated and sent out to the western world of fashion to have that extrapolated from them. I really want to understand their real sacred sense of weaving”.

You can follow Caitlin’s artwork on Instagram @caitlinannatextiles