#originally drew this with perfect spiral in mind

[sendpseuds]

sunrise sunset

[astrll-art]

haven’t read the manga yet but drawing these two egghead gays was too irresistible OUGH

ko-fi | please don’t repost my art!

this isn’t intended to be ship art, but i don’t mind if it’s tagged that way!

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #10: [INDIGO ABRASAX]

Prompt: reactivation (free write!) || Master Post || On AO3

A/N: This idea originated before the 6.4 PLL that announced Certain Specific Scholar Updates. Yoshi-P, I demand royalties along with the use of my twenty-year old internet handle as the abbreviation for your new expansion.

--

Synnove stared down at the soulstone on her desk; the dark blue stone was cut in such a way that what little light refracted through it drew the eye to the Scholar’s bespectacled emblem carved into its surface. She poked at it gently and the sonorous bzzz of unaspected aether brushed against her mind. Soulstones didn’t usually have unaspected aether unless they were blank, waiting for memory and experience to fill them.

This one was weird.

“This one is weird,” she said aloud. “Not that I don’t mind a mystery, but Surito is sending this along because…?”

“It’s something about the fairy,” Halulu said. “This one is from the most recent cache of soulstones the recovery teams have located in the Palace, and it’s the only one Surito can’t place to its original owner at the time of Nym’s fall. All the others, if he couldn’t recognize the aetherial signature, the fairy within responded at least long enough to identify herself and her Scholar.”

“But this one stayed silent,” Mhaslona said, not a question after Halulu’s explanation. Synnove’s old advisor lounged in one of the chairs on the other side of her desk, turned to the side to allow her to stretch her prosthetic leg out.

Halulu nodded and said, “And since Synnove is Eorzea’s resident strange summons expert…”

“You rewrite the laws of aetherology once and everyone expects you to walk on water,” Synnove grumbled without any heat. Halulu and Mhaslona both snickered at her. “All right, I’ll see if she’ll say hello to me.”

She pushed back from her desk and stood, picking up the soulstone in the same motion, and walked to the center of her office. Those first summonings of Tyr and Ivar had taught her never summon a damn thing near her desk ever again. The Gate quartermaster would likely refuse her requisition for another ironwood desk, especially one that would need hauling all the way up the northeast tower.

Synnove cupped her hands together, the left under the right, with the soulstone nestled in the center of her palm. She allowed her eyes to unfocus as she reached out with her aether to nudge the soulstone. In her mind, it hummed acknowledgment, but did nothing else.

The logic for a fairy wasn’t one with which she was intimately familiar, but her perfect memory could recall it regardless and Synnove held it in her mind as she drew on her aether—and frowned.

The soulstone refused to respond.

Only faintly conscious of her head tilting in puzzlement, Synnove mentally prodded at the soulstone again. Scholar soulstones were locked with the fairy logic; summon the fairy and the bearer could begin to attune to the soulstone. And it wasn’t a mystery lock, either, the logic was practically writ into the soulstone’s aether, one just needed to ‘fill’ it and—

—unless it wasn’t a fairy.

Synnove mentally threw out the fairy logic and plunged into the heady waters of the soulstone. Yes, there was the most basic of geometries used in summoning at its heart, pulsing and strong, but the way it branched out into the greater logic didn’t match the ones Scholars used for their fairies. She followed the equations and lines spiraling out from the core, mentally tracing out the shape of the summon that guarded the soulstone’s heart.

…This was familiar.

This was very, very familiar.

Without intention, without even having finished tracing this not very Scholarly logic because it wasn’t a logic at all, it was an array, Synnove filled in the blanks, and aether sang out in her office.

Synnove looked down.

A bright blue carbuncle blinked up at her.

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then a sound not unlike that of an Allagan node—though oddly feminine in its neutrality—rang out in her mind.

[>>776SKK900NLS0000 GLORIOUS DAWN NRM-COM/IPMA: ASSETS//CORE//IMPERATIVE IMMEDIATE ACTION ORDER Tactical morality reset from EMERALD EXIGENT. SECURITY STATE is ADAMANTOISE. LUCIFERON is INACTIVE and MIDNIGHT. Primary command structure defragment commence on mark. Evocation matrix INDIGO ABRASAX reactivation success. Format moral structures for KYRIA TRACE. STOP STOP STOP 776SKK900NLS0000]

With the way Mhaslona and Halulu were excitedly chattering behind her, Synnove knew she was the only one who had heard that. She suspected she wasn’t supposed to have heard that.

And then the carbuncle opened her mouth, and in the same voice said:

[Greetings, New User! I am the Intelligent Personal Obligant and Medical Operative for Emergency Applications! You may call me Ipomoea for convenience. Please specify the nature of your emergency for prompt service.]

Dead silence in her office.

“Um,” Synnove said intelligently.

“Is,” Halulu whispered, “is she talking? As in, open mouth, sound comes out talking?”

“More like an orchestrion rather than talking,” Mhaslona said slowly.

“Oh, I don’t like that. Not one bit.”

--

“So,” Synnove said, filling the final shot glass with whiskey and keeping it for herself, “best I can tell, the soulstone was carved from a carbuncle-quality focus gem.”

Surito Carito, Setoto Seto, and Alka Zolka were huddled around her desk with herself, Halulu, and Mhaslona, each with a shot glass in front of them. The bottle of Synnove’s best whiskey was not as full as it had been half a bell ago.

Surito sighed heavily and rubbed his face. “I remember her,” he said. “Her summoner—though perhaps better to say her programmer—was the college’s Allag expert, Vatete Vate. And carbuncles weren’t a popular choice for familiars; fairy logic was the preference, since it wasn’t reliant on gemstones infused with living aether.”

“We were isolated from most of Aldenard because of Mhach and Amdapor’s warring over the centuries,” Setoto said, shaking her head. “By the time of the War of the Magi, we hadn’t had a reliable gemstone trade in generations, it was why the fairy logic was developed at all.”

Mhaslona sucked on her teeth. “Where the fuck did Vatete even get the Allag tech? Based on what Synnove heard, it sounds like she reverse-engineered one of their command nodes into a carbuncle array.”

The two tonberries and one former tonberry all shrugged.

“Best we can do at the moment is ask around the Palace,” Surito said, raising his whiskey glass to sip from it. “Vatete isn’t among the tonberries, and she kept to herself much of the time, but she’d ramble to anyone who showed a lick of interest, so it’s possible, though not probable, that she may have let slip something without either she or her audience realizing the import.”

Synnove rested her cheek on her fist and sighed, then said over her shoulder, “How’s that database update coming along, honey?”

[Azys Lla terminal connection is sporadic, update is only seventeen percent complete.] Ipomeoa had, thankfully, switched to an aetheric harmonic upon request, although it still sounded vaguely artificial. [Prioritization algorithms are still sorting data. WORLD STATE: HYDAELYN set to UNBOUND.]

“…I don’t want to know what that means,” Alka Zolka said wearily. “I don’t think I have the clearance to know what that means.”

“You do now,” Synnove grumbled, and tossed back her whiskey in one gulp.

PREVIOUS || NEXT

[quibbs126]

Alright, I mentioned about a week ago that I was working on a character but couldn’t figure out a design, but this morning I finally drew a design for him I liked, so this is Blueberry Ice Cream Cookie

To be perfectly honest, I’m still not sold on the design, specifically the outfit? Actually no, I think the design is largely fine, but the colors of the outfit are what bother me because I can’t get them to look right

Also the hair and dough color make me think this guy’s from Yogurca when he isn’t; in fact he likely predates Yogurca. I just wanted his hair to look like actual blueberry ice cream, and I’ve technically already drawn this character before with a similar dough color, so I transferred it over. Coincidence I guess

Speaking of which, I should mention who exactly this guy is, and he is in fact the original form of the spirit of the Strawberry Jam Sword (ps I’m not sure I’m gonna keep their name Strawberry Jam Cookie, since I realize typically weapons don’t have the same name as their wielders), as well as it’s original creator

I wanted to incorporate that into his sword shown here, the Blueberry…something, I haven’t figured out what exactly to call it. One idea was the Blueberry Buster Sword, but it doesn’t really look like the Buster Sword, nor is that an actual type of sword. I dunno. Back during these days it was his personal greatest creation, and what he would use to fight. When I drew it here, I intentionally wanted to make it look like the Strawberry Jam Sword, given that they both have the same creator. Though I wonder if I made them too similar, given that Blueberry Ice Cream later sees this sword as their great failure

Around 10,000 years ago, long before any of the Ancients, Blueberry Ice Cream Cookie was a blacksmith, as well as a warrior, who would make powerful weapons. What made his special is that he would use his magic abilities to enchant his weapons and imbue them with power. Typically he would use either Dessert Magic or Dark Moon Magic. He would visit the City of Wizards to study their texts and use what he learned in his weapon making. However something to also note is that he tended to be reckless with his magic usage, ignoring the potential dangers of what he uses, so long as it does what he needs. But at his core he always meant well, making weapons for the sole purpose of helping protect other Cookies from the dangers of the world (which could potentially have been dragons, given how far back this is). And all around he was a pretty friendly guy

Then one day, his village gets attacked, and he tries to fight against the threat, only for his sword to be completely shattered with one blow, and his village gets destroyed. This is the event that put him on a downward spiral which would eventually turn him into Strawberry Jam Cookie (again I’m probably not keeping that name but for now it’s all I got). Driven by his guilt and grief (maybe someone important to him died, I haven’t worked out all the details), he decides that he’s going to create the perfect weapon, something that will be so powerful it can destroy any threat, and this is the beginning of the creation of the Strawberry Jam Sword. He becomes obsessed with this goal, making it the only thing that matters anymore, only ever leaving his smithy to go find more magic texts. During this time the blueberries on his head sort of melt and just become part of his hair, as seen with the colored sketch there

He eventually decides that this time, his usual magic isn’t good enough, it was too weak. So in desperation, he turns to Black Magic, uncaring of the supposed consequences. He starts using it more and more, trying for years to create this perfect weapon. And as he uses more and more Black Magic, it corrupts his mind (as well as his dough), making him desire power more and more, forgetting what the original reason was, and caring less and less about other Cookies, frustrated why they can’t see the importance of what he’s doing, and eventually thinking they don’t matter at all

It all comes to a head at some point I haven’t really decided yet, but some particular incident with Black Magic ends up sort of rebaking him, turning into Strawberry Jam Cookie. And eventually, they finish their accursed sword, probably using some blood (well I guess strawberry jam) ritual involving other Cookies

After getting sealed in the sword, they start to lose their mind further, and by the time of present day, Blueberry Ice Cream Cookie is completely gone, not even a faded memory

Originally BIC here was going to be a retcon of Strawberry Jam Cookie, considering that I recognize a lot of the stuff I said there contradicts things from actual canon (the Shattered Kingdom I believe was Dark Choco’s kingdom, and the SJS is in Dragon’s Valley), but honestly this here I think would still comply with what I said before, given Strawberry Jam Cookie didn’t have a real backstory there.

Also right quick I just wanna give backstory as to why I called them Blueberry Ice Cream Cookie. So I originally had a number of ideas for SJ’s original name, of which I’ll list here

Strawberry Mochi Cookie (because strawberries, also I thought it’d be funny if the Strawberry Jam Sword was originally named something like Mochi)

Strawberry Ice Cream Cookie (mostly because Strawberry Mochi Ice Cream Cookie was far too long (despite strawberry mochi ice cream being what I originally intended), but also because ice cream is a type of magic and this character was going to be a magic blacksmith)

Blueberry Ice Cream Cookie (because originally their magic type was going to be Dark Moon Magic, which is blue, so I wanted to make them match, along with ice cream magic)

Ruby Choco Cookie (to tie in with Dark Choco Cookie, making them even more similar and as if the sword is almost a reflection of himself)

Rhubarb Cookie (because strawberry rhubarb pie)

I eventually picked Blueberry Ice Cream because I like the blue (not realizing blueberry ice cream is more purple) and because it creates a contrast with both the Strawberry Jam Sword’s color scheme as well as Dark Choco’s. Also I had the idea of blueberries on their head melting and being what creates that gradient effect their later design has

But yeah, this is Blueberry Ice Cream Cookie

Also side note but I had this funny idea relating to that other picture I had of Dark Cacao, Dark Choco and Strawberry Jam Cookie together, where potentially if this were the canon story or something similar, they release both Strawberry Jam Cookie and Blueberry Ice Cream Cookie, given they’re now effectively different characters, meaning that Dark Choco not only has to deal with one version of the being who brought him years of torment, but two

[swindle-comic]

Hi, I've been reading your comic and I really like it.

My question is: how Ty was created? I don't mean biologically, no, I mean what came to your mind while creating a bear oc. I'm a huge fan of bears myself, so Ty being one got me curious.

If you feel comfortable, could you tell his origins? That's prolly some stuff that are gonna be shown ahead in the comic, but I wanted to ask nevertheless.

The simple answer is it was like 3am and that’s usually when stray ideas spiral out of control.

Okay if I remember right it began almost two years ago when I was very very lost in the ducktales sauce and we were talking about the characters constantly. So we had been on the topic of the triplets and how they’d develop as teens to adults and then the subject drifted into romantic orientation or lack thereof and potential relationships they might have in the future. When it came to Louie we were just like “ye he gay.”

While we were talking about that, I brought up a silly little scenario about Louie having a notable interaction with some boy at school. I guess what the notable interaction entailed would be a spoiler. The angle that hooked us on this relationship dynamic is a spoiler. (Even if plenty of people who went deep diving have found their answers on the matter. I’m still gonna try not to bring it up on the blog.) but you’ll find out soon. So the idea of Ty’s character started with “Somebody who could work off Louie.”

But then I was like “yeah ok sure fine I know I just brought this kid up to be funny but now I’m invested in him. Who is he? Lets flesh out this Boy At School. It’s 3am let’s go apeshit.”

And then I wondered if I could make this kid a canon character. Maybe a lesser used one. And I remembered that some of the talespin characters were intended to appear in season three. Now I hadn’t watched talespin much at the time so I didn’t pay much attention to the announced characters. For some reason I thought they were Baloo and Rebecca? I had just briefly looked at the image of them like once. So then my train of thought was like “okay so if Baloo and Rebecca exist in dt17, so does Kit Cloudkicker.” I knew a little bit about Kit Cloudkicker. And from what I knew, he matched the personality of this Boy At School that we were messing around with. I thought it was a perfect.

I figured out like a few minutes later that the adult bear I thought was Baloo was actually Kit so we had to regroup. But I was already attached to this angle we had so the regroup was basically just

(I just think Artsy with their Kit icon being like “idk him” is funny)

The name “Kit Jr” did not last long because it was stupid as all fuck but by this point it was 4am so be nice to me.

The fact that we made Ty into an OC made things WAY better cuz it opened up for way more creative freedom. He wasn’t confined to the restraints of canon characterization and I could do whatever I wanted with him. This early stage of his characterization was definitely inspired by young Kit from Talespin but he became so much more than that. Artsy had started designing him the day after and then drew up a bunch of him. Which just added fuel to the fire. The next few days I spurted out essays upon essays about Ty. Everything about him. He was a fully realized person within a week. There’s so much life to this kid, I stg. I’m really excited for the comic to explore every facet of him. He has a lot of facets.

But yeah that’s why he’s a bear. He was based off a bear character. If he had just been an OC with no links to any other character, a bear probably wouldn’t have crossed my mind.

I’m guessing by his “origins” you mean where he came from, in universe. Like before he landed with Kit and whatnot. I’m delighted you’re interested but that’s private information for the moment. But we will get to that.

Thank you for your question! This was fun to talk about!

[vargaslovinghours]

“...pretty sure I’m most of the way out of Vargas brainspace...”

Well, huh. Second verse, same as the first!

Was thinking quite a lot about their “first kiss” from Parent-Teacher Night - I realized afterwards that Edgar would almost certainly be wearing something much more suited to the occasion! If it’s going to be perfect, it’s gotta be ✨Perfect✨ 

Oh yeah, he can just do that. I actually had a lot of Hunchback-themed doodles, spanning probably a full page between my main and alt. notebook. I only realized very very recently looking back that I initially set it up to be a movie they see After but then doodled a bunch of stuff as if they could still share dreams, that’s not how that works at all!

I’ve gotten surprisingly good at drawing him just with my index finger lol. Sometimes a bad mood is best channeled through a judgmental Scriabin

I wanted to try out a bunch of different sitting and laying poses on the couch and made this for a base. They’ve got such long legs, it’d be all too easy to squish the other if one of them decided to stretch out hehe

Another Pearlcatcher Scriabin, as a test for my new notebook. Notebook did not make the grade, but he did turn out cute ♥ What a polite sit, folded wings and all. Wonder what element he’d breathe, hmm

More paper testing, ended up with a couple Edgar comparisons. I miss my old paper!! It’s hard to tell since I drew in the upper margin for the tests lol, false unlined

I might finish the present exchange minicomic yet, but if I don’t I’d hate to just leave it hanging! This is how I make doodle notes lol, the order is a bit all over the place. Edgar’s gift was a double scarf! It actually unbuttons into two matching scarves but it’s not immediately obvious so it just looks like a super-long scarf, made to be shared whether separate or together :) Plus a couple bonuses of Scriabin wearing his very terrible mask and the two of them sharing the scarf :D

Ambidextrous practice and an older idea of Scriabin being able to pronounce keysmashes lol, it’s good letter practice! Edgar is very disturbed, how are you making those noises with your mouth

King Edgar! Was feeling a bit saccharine, but could just as easily be about competing royalty, guess he won the battle for the crown. For now...

Pot calling the kettle black, there. Unjustified egoism? Unheard of!

The original-original sketch of this WIP, I don’t need a lot to go on for my brain to remember what I meant lol. I actually still rather like how the skeleton of his fingers are shaped, it’s a nice wide, stressed expression

I edit out most of my notes ‘cause they’re either this or memery lol. Puffed out cheeks are too cute!

I like Lady!Edgar quite a lot, obviously lol. I wanted to draw her in the cardigan because Edgar was cute in it and wouldn’t you know, that carries over! Edgar’s cute throughout his iterations haha. I feel the same about Lady!Scriabin as well, in one of my sketches I described her as “puckish” lol

Playful closeness, Edgar is not interested lol. I was mostly thinking about hip posing at the time, like meeting at one point and separating out from there. Tied at the hip!

Back to what I was doing before, nbd. The amount of unfinished kiss doodles I have....look, okay- I also think it’s funny that with unfinished blushes their faces end up darker than their hair lol

Speaking of - back when I was first practicing drawing kisses, the alignment was probably the hardest part. Convincingly making it look like the lips meet is hard! But then the reality of the situation occurred to me, Edgar’s not particularly practiced at kissing so maybe the combination our inexperiences would result in such a situation lol

Probably my favourite frame from Where are you now, he looks so intense even though he’s immediately going to pop into panic, ahh the contrast. I also originally used hard-edge vectors at a much smaller scale, but I intended soft and shined eyes from the beginning

Just pick him up and carry him like a teddy bear lol. Just wait til he kicks out his leg and they fall on each other lol

Spacefiller fluffy Scriabin. I keep wanting to draw flowers but I keep forgetting about flower crowns! I just like pinned back hair too much I guess

Oh no not a hug trap! Insidious, however will he escape

Someone gently touching Edgar’s face - I ended up liking how the sketch looked too much to want to finish it lol. Who could it be?

Brief return to the TGWDLM crossover, it hits randomly. I never drew the Apotheosis meeting Edgar, and it’s still not exactly how I’d imagine it happening (or what I’ve written) but I thought it was interesting anyway. Edgar’s always gotta be crying, that’s a requirement

A!Edgar is so cloyingggg, it’s never not weird

Definitely not

Fighting over symbolism. It took me a while to think it over fully, but I think the scariest part about Apotheosized!Edgar is that he’s not afraid to hurt Scriabin at first. He’s much closer to a stranger with Edgar’s face, but that’s kind of a big deal lol

Finally a lack of glasses that makes sense lol. Easier to just grab his face than point him in the right direction and hope he sees

Some Convalescence Scriabin mouth shape practice for funsies. My mouth expressions tend to be rather subdued and since he was both already on my mind and more prone to big expressions, he seemed perfect for it. I really like “E” lol, he looks so proud

Eye, or lack thereof practice, a bit torn at the outer edge. Kinda reminds me of Invader ZiM in a bad way lol, I might return to the spiral-looking socket instead if I draw them again, I like the weird smooth texture but it’s hard for me to pin down with pencils

A silly little idea of Scriabin flying into him and falling over lol. “Hey Ron. Hey Billy” lol. Edgar’s just given up entirely

So that’s September through mid February! I honestly didn’t expect to still be doodling them so often lol

[btsmosphere]

Snowstorm | MYG

~summary:

Strange things happen in the woods when you return home for Christmas. And why does your mum insist you stay away from Min Yoongi?

Yoongi x female reader

~word count: 6k

~magic au, jack frost au, childhood friend au, angst, fluff

Rating: pg

Warnings: overbearing parent, rumours and gossip, swearing, storms and bad weather

~a/n: this is a repost, I put this up this morning but for some reaason it hasn’t shown up in the tags so I am trying again. ~original a/n: got this one out just in time... this is my fic for November keyword ‘magic’ for @thebtswritersclub​!! This started from the bingo square ‘jack frost’, one I wasn’t sure whether to write, but it was perfect for a magic au, so I hope you enjoy it! Keep a lookout for more festive fics from me over December,, I’ve just realised quite how many fics I have to find time to write among my end of term essays yAy

They’re cutting the trees down in the forest.

It’s not as young as it once was, but neither are you. You come back to it every year, these woods. Someone needs to look after it. Not like you do that, but at least taking the time to come back and see it makes you feel a little better.

Maybe you aren’t looking after it, but at least you’re looking.

Being home from college is… fun. Mostly.

You love your family, but you sure as hell love these woods too, for when you’ve had enough. There’s one tree that forks into two, right at the heart, that you cried under countless times throughout your childhood.

Now it’s more for nostalgia. Coming home for the long college holidays, you’ve grown up and your family let you do your thing, so you don’t generally have a need to sob your heart out in the wilderness anymore.

Wow, this is making your childhood sound really bad. It wasn’t.

But whenever it was, the woods were there.

Winter is making itself felt now, air slowly numbing your face and fingers. You trail them across the bark of a tree you pass before digging them reluctantly into your coat pockets.

This tree doesn’t look too healthy. Though it still felt normal, the bark is thinning. You wonder if it will live to see new leaves in the spring.

Overhead, the dappled grey sky bears a heavier shadow. You should probably be getting back soon. Making your way, without hurrying, towards the edge of the trees, you trod over their forgotten leaves as they faded into the ground.

Soon the soft carpet of the forest petered out and you found yourself on the familiar roads that led back to your house.

No one else really seemed to be about apart from you. Except for whoever that was that just came around the corner. Hold on-

Is Min Yoongi back here? Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod-

Sucking in a deep breath, you did your utmost to avoid staring at him, eyes trailing along the ground instead. As you drew closer to each other, your grew heartbeat louder in your ears.

Now that wasn’t fair. You were meant to be over this.

But of course that was never the case.

Min Yoongi had grown up here too, a boisterous child that grew into a reserved teenager. What he was doing with himself now, you had no idea, but what was important is that he was here right now. Because maybe the monster crush you harboured for him had never really gone away.

In school, you two had been friends. Not the closest, but you would hang out together, always too shy to really talk. Now the course of life had taken you two apart; you weren’t sure you had spoken to him since you were sixteen.

Okay, he was only steps away now. You had to stay calm.

Act natural. Pretend you haven’t seen him.

Wait, no. That would be impossible. There’s only the two of you on this road, how could you not notice him?

You didn’t want to come off as rude if you ignored him.

In your panic, you looked up to find his eyes trained on you already. While your brain was busy short-circuiting, you settled for a small smile and a quick wave.

For one mortifying moment, you thought he didn’t recognise you at all. His eyebrows remained slightly creased, but just as you were nearly past him, his eyes widened.

“Y/N!”

The wide smile that had taken over his face retreated into a small, shy one as you stopped.

“Hey, Yoongi,” you smiled back.

“What are you up to?” he asked, glancing briefly to the end of the road you had just come from. Towards the forest.

“Just out for a walk,” you explained, “getting away from my family for a bit.”

“I can understand that,” he laughed quietly, scratching absently behind one ear.

“I didn’t realise you were back here,” you prompted after he trailed off, “it’s good to see you again.”

“Yeah, and you,” he nodded, “it’s strange being back sometimes, but it’s good you’re here too.”

Despite the cold, your felt heat in your cheeks. What did he just say?

“I-I mean,” he stuttered, “like, it’s weird, when things are different than you remember them , and so it’s nice when you see someone familiar… yeah.”

“Yeah, yeah, I totally get you,” you swallowed, laughing nervously, “like the forest, it’s not the same anymore-“

“Not the same,” he grimaced, then froze, realising you spoke in unison.

Wide eyed, laughter bubbled from both of you

“Are you going there now?” you asked, “it’s a bit cold isn’t it?”

As the two of you had stood talking, the light had steadily drained from the sky.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he smirked.

Surprised by his sudden confidence, you just smiled.

“Okay, if you’re sure. I should probably be getting home, though.”

“Sure,” he nodded quickly.

“See you.”

Glancing at the inky sky, you turned to leave, hands delving deeper into the warmth of your coat pockets, when Yoongi cleared his throat behind you.

“Um…”

Now a few steps away from him, you looked over your shoulder.

“We should catch up some time. Properly. If-if you’d like.”

“Yeah, sure,” you smiled widely.

“Nice. I’ll, um, see you soon.”

He gave you a wave, smile dancing on his lips. The moment you turned away, you bit your lip, trying to contain your grin. Practically bouncing your way home, your cheeks were burning by the time you reached your front door.

Stiff fingers fiddling with the key, at last you let yourself in.

No doubt hearing you stomping your shoes on the doormat, your mum came around the corner.

“You were gone a while,” she observed.

“Yeah, bumped into Yoongi on the way back,” you begrudgingly explained.

“Min Yoongi?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I remember when you used to have a silly crush on that boy!” she laughed. Kicking your shoes off, you rolled your eyes but followed her through to the kitchen.

“His family’s always been very strange though,” she continued, “they don’t really talk to anyone. Half the time I don’t even know if there’s anyone at home.”

“You’re spying on their house now?” you joked.

“Well, when they’re shut in all summer, you can’t help wondering,” she defended, “very strange, the lot of them… you would do well to stay away from them, Y/N.”

“But-“

“You’re not even friends with him, why should it be an issue?”

“You’re right,” you sighed.

It was easier to let it slide.

They’re cutting the trees down in the forest.

Walking between the ones that still stand, Yoongi’s mind is still full of you. At least someone else still saw this place. Still cared.

And truth be told, he still cared about you. A chance to see the forest and a chance to speak to you were what kept bringing him back. It would be easy to find another forest somewhere, some wide open space, wilder than this.

But there was a soft spot in his heart for his hometown.

Raising a hand above his head, he sent the last few leaves clinging to a branch spiralling down to the floor on a gust of wind. As he lowered his arm, he let his fingers trail across the bark, leaving frost in their wake.

It was hard, having to hide. His mother told him he couldn’t get close to anyone here. Anyone that didn’t know.

Even playing with you as five-year-olds had been crossing the line, apparently.

On the ground, the leaves cleared from his path. The wind blew colder, skeletal branches rattling together as clouds knitted closer together above.

At the heart of the forest, there was a tree whose trunk forked into two. Climbing nimbly up into the gap, he settled himself and planted his palms against the bark.

“Y/N, go and fetch the bin. It’s frosty again.”

Without questioning, you did as your mother said. She was right about the frost. Unlike her, though, you adored it. Just outside your doorstep, you stopped to stare at the thin coating of white that covered the street.

Every house, every garden, every car was painted with the delicate brush strokes of winter.

Once you had tugged the bin up the drive, you found your mother still talking inside.

“Thanks, love,” she smiled, placing a bowl in front of you, “gosh, I can’t wait for summer again. I can’t stand it’s so cold all the time.”

Instead of voicing your disagreement, you hummed noncommittally as you poured yourself some cereal.

Maybe you would go back to the forest later. It was all you daydreamed about as you munched on your breakfast before retreating to your room.

Until someone knocked on the door.

What you hadn’t seen was the fist hovering over wood, raising and lowering countless times before it finally sounded through your house. Frowning, you stood from your bed and peeked around your window frame.

Min Yoongi was standing in front of your house.

Min Yoongi was standing in front of your house.

The distinct sound of the door swinging open downstairs snapped you from your reverie, frozen on the spot. Shutting your gaping mouth, you looked around, panicked. Your mother was speaking.

You crossed your room in no less than two strides, throwing the door open and speeding down the stairs.

“What brings you here?” your mum was saying as you dashed up behind her.

“Hi Yoongi!” you exclaimed, panting slightly, “thanks mum.”

But of course she couldn’t take the hint. As you waited with bated breath for her to leave the two of you alone, she just looked slowly between you instead.

“You’re here to see my daughter?”

Yoongi swallowed hard under her stare.

“Yes, he is, mum,” you spoke, tone strained.

Really, sometimes it was like you never left. You felt like you had been transported straight back to your school years, asking your mum for permission to go out.

“And we’re going out,” you said firmly when greeted with silence.

Grabbing your coat, you slipped past her.

“Strange to see him out,” she muttered.

Praying Yoongi didn’t hear her sly comment, you hastily shut the door.

“Sorry,” you grimaced, “where do you fancy?”

“Let’s go for a walk.”

Following his lead, you fell into step, heading away from your house.

“I see why you prefer the trees for company.”

Now that startled a laugh out of you. Clamping a hand over your mouth, you stared at Yoongi walking beside you. He didn’t seem fazed, suddenly confident again beside you, hands buried in his hoodie as he kicked his feet walking along.

Lost quickly in conversation, you walked together until you found him leading you towards a small café.

“Drink?” he asked.

“Um, yeah, hot chocolate?” you answered timidly.

Smiling, he disappeared inside and reappeared very soon with two steaming takeaway cups.

“Thanks,” you breathed, taking one warm cup from his fingers and cradling it between your own.

“Didn’t want you to get cold.”

And it certainly did help. Of course you next walked down towards the woods, without a word passing between you about your destination. With the warmth flowing through you, you were perfectly content to keep going through the chilly air as you ditched the cups in a bin.

“Do you remember when Tae got stuck in that tree?” Yoongi commented.

Looking to where he gestured, you laughed.

“It was that one?”

“Yep, it’s still got that branch snapped off,” he pointed.

“Oh, yeah,” you giggled, “that feels so long ago now, doesn’t it?”

Sighing, he took another sip.

“Yeah. It does.”

Silence settled for a short moment, only your muffled steps sounding in the woods.

“Do you know if the others ever come back here?” you wondered aloud.

“Haven’t seen any of them,” he shrugged.

Way back when, there was a huge group at school, which was how you grew connected to Yoongi. There was still a group chat buried somewhere in your phone, but you hadn’t heard from most of them in a long time.

“It’s just us then,” you mused.

“I guess it is,” Yoongi said, a large smile spreading onto his face.

Then he halted, stooping down to the floor. Beside him, you watched him in confusion.

Until he sprung up, a handful of fallen leaves suddenly finding their way into your face.

“Yah!” you shrieked, throwing your hands up too late.

As the last one fell from your spluttering face, you found the shape of Yoongi several trees away, running. Mouth falling open, you instantly gave chase, quickly reaching down for a bundle of your own leaves.

“Min Yoongi!” you yelled, a reply reaching you in the form of his breathless laughter.

Pushing yourself on, your feet pounded towards him. He slowed, going over a slope, giving you opportunity enough to catch up, launching the leaves at his back.

“Argh!” he laughed, arms flapping from beneath the flurry of leaves.

But you couldn’t revel in your revenge for long, as another faceful of leaves was booted towards you. You only caught a glimpse of his gummy smile for a moment before he saw your glare and bolted again.

A gust of wind hindered you pursuit, throwing more soggy leaves at you.

Up ahead, Yoongi was scrambling up a tree. Just as you reached it, he seated himself on a branch, out of your reach. Breathless with laughter, you still tried, flinging leaves up in the air towards him.

They barely reached his feet, swinging above you, instead floating for a pathetic moment before falling right back on top of you.

Shaking them from your head, you heard Yoongi’s loud laughter above you.

Looking up, you were met with an enormous gummy smile as he slipped back down the tree, dropping deftly onto the ground, shoulders still shaking with laughter.

“Sorry,” he panted.

He reached a hand out towards you then. Frozen in surprise, you watched as his thumb met your nose, quickly swiping across it. Cold lingered there as his hand came away, a slight smudge of mud wiped on it.

Self consciously rubbing your nose yourself, you let out a chuckle, a shiver passing through you only a moment later.

“Shit, are you cold?” his smile faltered.

“It’s okay,” you assured, “we’ve just been running about. I’m fine.”

“Okay,” he frowned slightly.

Turning away a little, he shoved his hands into his pockets.

Going with him, you two headed across the woods to the other edge, where you could look over your town as it fell away into countryside. The sky was striped with clouds, yellowish light dimming behind them.

This felt good.

You’ve always liked this forest, hated sharing it with anyone else. But you didn’t mind with Yoongi. After so long, it was odd how quickly you felt comfortable. How fast your feelings resurfaced.

And you couldn’t help wondering…

“Hey, Yoongi?”

“Hmm?”

“Was this… meant to mean anything?”

“What do you mean?” he turned towards you.

You swallowed. Fuck. You might have just shoved your foot in it.

“Er, well, I mean, like, a date or something?” you spoke nervously.

The moment his eyebrows raised, you were certain you had made a mistake.

“Well, no…”

Oh shit.

“But it can be.”

You blinked.

“Say that again?”

“It can be,” he chuckled, warm smile making another appearance.

“Sorry, I wasn’t sure I heard you right,” you said, stunned, turning back to the view. Then you glanced back at him. “So you wouldn’t be opposed to a date?”

“Nope,” he shook his head.

“With me?”

A chuckle responded. “Yes, Y/N. With you.”

In the corner of your eye, a flicker of movement. But then it stopped. Looking around, you saw Yoongi return his hand to his pocket, casting his eyes down.

By the time you were both approaching your driveway again, it was forgotten. You were practically glowing.

Until you saw the figure of your mother in the front window.

The moment she laid eyes on you, she was gone from the window and appeared in the doorway instead.

“Shit, sorry,” you muttered, sharing a glance with Yoongi, “this has been really fun…”

Getting the message, he sent you a smile that squeezed his eyes.

Then he slowed beside you and you carried on, pulling away with a smile of your own.

As you drew closer, your mum stepped out and down the steps.

“Are you alright? Where did you go?” she asked straight away.

She really was worried about this, huh?

“Mum, it’s fine,” you frowned, unable to help the look over your shoulder, “we just went for a walk, what’s the problem?”

If this was her reaction to you spending time with the guy platonically, you thought it safer to leave out the other details for now.

“I told you, something’s not right with him,” she hissed, clearly trying to keep a low voice. Not that she was successful.

“Come on, let’s go inside,” you urged.

Glancing back just before you closed the door, you saw Yoongi turning away. You longed to reach for him, call out to him…

The door clicked shut.

In front of you, your mother stood with folded arms.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

“I don’t know about him, Y/N,” she shook her head, “since he was a child, he’s always been… different.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, whenever there was an accident on the playground, he always seemed to be around. All of us parents knew, it’s why I told you to be careful with him.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. Vaguely, you recalled her saying something like that, but you must have been very small. Either way, perhaps you did stray away from him on the playground.

“No one ever knew for sure, but there were rumours,” she sighed, rubbing her forehead, “maybe he was just troublesome and liked pushing other kids over, but then his family… they never tried to fit in here.”

“And the town gossip has you this worried?” you asked, incredulous.

“I was pleased you were staying away from him in school,” she glared at you, “so where’s this come from? I hoped that silly crush was over.”

“If I was in trouble I would tell you, and you know that,” you stepped forwards, “but I can be with whoever I like! I’m not in school anymore, and Yoongi’s a grown adult too.”

Her eyebrows shot upwards.

“So you’re with him now?”

“…maybe, but what does it matter? It’s what I want to do, mum, I’ll be fine.”

Met with your pleading eyes, she merely glared back, arms tightly folded. She exhaled steadily through her nose.

“Just come and have dinner.”

It started snowing.

You knew your mum wouldn’t want you to go outside in that. But maybe that made it all the more appealing.

She wasn’t over it, and you knew it. Sly comments kept coming your way over dinner, riling you up. Why was she letting schoolground gossip get in the way of you and Yoongi?

By the end of dinner, you were reaching the end of your tether.

If you could just go for a walk, cool off. Literally. Stepping outside, you already hugged your coat a little bit tighter around you.

Just to the forest and back, not far beyond the streetlights, then come back. But as your feet stomped through the newly settling snow, stray flakes catching in your hair, your scowl never lifted.

Your mum had never been too controlling, so why was she so riled up about this one thing? And something that was so important to you? Since school you had had a crush on Yoongi, all those years hanging onto every smile, every laugh, and now something was finally coming true.

Of course that wouldn’t be allowed. Of course, in her book, a bad child grew into a bad adult.

It was true that this town could be very self-contained and you were well used to news circulating. No wonder you hadn’t seen Yoongi back here before. You wanted this to be your chance.

Head turned down against the oncoming snow, you blinked cold flakes from your eyelashes. It was thicker now, blurring in front of you when you looked up.

A gust of wind threaded its fingers through your hair, biting across your slightly damp face. Shoulders hunching, you tried to look around you. Acting of their own accord, your feet had carried you to the forest.

You should head back.

Turning on the spot, you squinted through the darkness for the streetlights at the edge of the trees.

But darkness surrounded you.

Stomach dropping, you rubbed your hands together in front of you. Definitely should have worn gloves.

The white that now coated the forest floor and its branches reflected the precious little moonlight that could reach you here, letting you know you were among the larger trees. Your mind whirled with panic almost as fast as the snow falling around you.

When a shiver shook your frame, you knew you had to move.

If you picked a direction, you would surely find a way back eventually. The forest wasn’t that big, was it?

Maybe they had cut down some trees, but it turned out the woodland was not small. At least, it didn’t feel that way when cold water was seeping through your jeans and clinging to your face and hair. Try as you might to carve out a straight path, the snowstorm was growing, wind forcing you to lower your head.

Still, all you could see was darkness, the ghosts of trees looming from behind the blizzard in the air.

Sniffling, you tried to fight off the panicked tears threatening to spill. This had all been a bad idea. You just wanted to get home.

But unbeknownst to you, someone else was in the woods too.

Not many trees away, perched in his usual spot, Yoongi’s palms met the gnarled bark as he channelled his energy. The storm fell peacefully around him. Breathing deeply, he felt himself letting go.

He knew what this town thought of him. He hadn’t been careful enough, like his parents had told him to. He just never thought that anyone would still remember, not least your mother.

But he couldn’t claim she was wrong. Being Jack Frost came with its dangers, its responsibilities.

And he should have known better. He just wanted you, badly enough that he decided to go for it against his better judgement.

His sadness made itself known in storms like this: not violent or noisy, just cold.

As the white flakes filled the air, he looked out across the darkness of the forest. Wind tugged gently at his white hair but the snow didn’t touch him, evaporating before it hit his shoulders.

He called another gust of wind, threading it through the air, across the land.

When it reached him, it carried something with it.

His eyes opened, looking around through the storm to see where it had come from. It was normal for the branches to rattle, for animals to scurry home, but that wasn’t either sound. It sounded like a person. And not a happy one.

No one else should be out here.

Turning his head left and right, he finally made out a shadowy shape a few trees away.

Quickly and quietly, he slid off his perch, obscuring his body with the trunk of the tree. Around him, the snow calmed a little, drifting calmly once more.

As the person walked closer, he saw them wipe a hand across their cheek. And that sound came again. Were they… crying?

Louder this time, and finally they stepped into a lighter patch…

His eyes widened. What the hell were you doing out here? Assessing you with a flick of his eyes, he knew you must be freezing.

When you stopped suddenly, turning around as your shoulders slumped, he had to force himself to stay behind his tree.

Briefly wetting his lips with his tongue, he looked towards the shortest way out. Why weren’t you going that way? Instead, you were stumbling off in the opposite direction, looking to the ground.

“No,” he muttered urgently, head darting between you and the right path.

Then he made a snap decision.

Pursing his lips, he called up a gust of wind with a quirk of his hand, stopping you in your tracks as it collided with you forcefully. With wide eyes, you whipped around as the wind charged through the forest, carving a winding channel through the trees.

And on the path it tracked, the snow stopped, hovering in stasis along the sides as if lighting the way.

Not daring to breathe, Yoongi studied your face carefully as you stared at the space path he had created. Slowly coming to your senses, you turned your head. He ducked back behind the trunk, breaths falling shallow from his lips.

The snow suspended in the air waited with him until crunching footsteps met his ears.

Peering back out, he watched your form retreating through the woods, perfectly framed between the trees as you trod the right path.

He watched you go, knowing what he had to do.

The snow fell thicker.

Yoongi would come around soon. The day after your little escapade into the storm, he hadn’t shown his face. But that was fine. It would be weird to come back the day after your first… whatever it was. Right?

But today, he would come.

And when he did, you would make sure you got his number. In a town like this, he could easily come knocking, like he had the other day, but you were sick of waiting around like this.

All day you had been restless, failing to keep yourself from the window as you hoped to see him walking down your road. You longed to tell him about what you had seen in the woods that night.

It had taken you a while to decide you hadn’t dreamt it. But the chills running though you and the damp clothes on your radiator said otherwise. Sure, you had always felt a connection with the woods, but you never expected them to do something in return.

That was what happened, though. They had shown you the way home through the storm.

Last night, you had braved the cold to go there again. The snow lay harmlessly on the ground by now, but you had still kept your wits about you and gone before dark.

Nothing.

Maybe it would just be your little secret.

Or yours and Yoongi’s, if he ever turned up.

The urge to look out of the window returned, and you fought valiantly. Staring at the ceiling was a lot less productive than staring outside, so eventually you stood.

And gaped.

He was actually there!

Right on your driveway, biting his lip as he looked up at your house.

Or maybe…

He was looking at your mum. You stilled, having been ready to race downstairs, but now you watched in horror as your mum marched down the drive.

“Sorry, Yoongi,” you heard, “Y/N isn’t in.”

“Oh, sorry Mrs L/N,” he bowed his head, “I just wanted to talk to her-“

“Well you’ll be doing no such thing,” she snapped, “she won’t be getting mixed up with you. I think you should leave now.”

Hands shaking as they gripped the window frame, you were ready to run out to them, when you heard something in response. It was quiet, so you had to strain to hear it, but when you did you could only stare.

“Could you just… could you tell her that I like her? A lot.”

Your mum scoffed, but as she opened her mouth he continued, looking at the floor.

“-and I won’t be seeing her again. You’re right. I’ll stay away.”

Rooted on the spot, you could only gape as the figures of Yoongi and your mother stood still outside. Then your mum broke the silence.

“Very good.”

“Will you tell her?”

“You should leave,” she said firmly.

Shoulders slumping, he turned away, not even looking back. His footsteps carrying him away were what finally made you move.

“Yoongi!” you shouted, tearing down the stairs as the door slammed.

“Y/N,” your mother’s voice warned.

“What is going on!” you asked desperately, trying to move around her only to be blocked.

“He doesn’t want to see you.”

“No! That’s not true! I heard him-“

“He won’t be seeing you then. It’s for the best.”

“Why?” you cried, tears pricking at your eyes, “what is so wrong with him?”

But instead of an equal retaliation, she heaved a sigh. Blinking furiously, you watched her raise her eyes to meet yours.

“His family… they’ve lived here as long as ours. They’re all strange. Weird things happen. Some sort of… magic. And they don’t mix with us. Never have, but that’s how it should be. They’re not like us, Y/N,” she finished with emphasis.

Meanwhile, a frown had taken over your face.

“That’s- what- that’s ridiculous!” you spluttered, “he’s not magic! And if he is, I don’t care!”

And with that, you pushed past her, tumbling out onto the drive, eyes desperately scanning the bare street.

But you didn’t stop there. Ignoring the defeated calls of your mother, you started running. Yoongi couldn’t have got far; and anyway, you had an idea where he might have gone. You had to catch up. You couldn’t let go of him this easily.

Feet pounding hard on the ground beneath you, you barely noticed the darkening sky above you. Clouds swirled together, looming over your small town.

The wind picked up, throwing your hair back in your face as it tore back and forth across the path. As you dashed at last between the shadows of trees, the floor was practically crawling as leaves tossed themselves along the ground.

Some launched upwards as powerful gusts rushed through the bare branches above, and soon the pummelling of hail joined the rattling of the trees.

Stumbling to a stop deep in the forest, you whirled around, trying to spot Yoongi. Wind continued to assault you, swirling in all directions in the air, trees groaning among the whooshing air.

“Yoongi!” you called at the top of your lungs. Your voice was lost instantly in the cacophony of the storm, stinging hailstones on your cheeks the only response.

Exhaling swiftly, you took off once more, still calling out.

And then you saw him.

Shoulders hunched, his outstretched arms were braced against a tree. Though his head was lowered, you could see the heaving of his chest.

Picking up the pace, you smiled in relief.

“Yoongi!”

Instantly, he sprung away from the tree, head darting around him as he looked for you. But when he met your eyes, they only grew.

And then he was running too.

Away from you.

“Hey! Yoongi!” you shouted after him.

But a roar from the forest drowned you out.

Running faster, hail chucked itself spitefully into your face, the wind surging against you from the darkening sky. Struggling on, you held your hands in front of your face, only lowering them when you trailed to a stop.

Yoongi was nowhere in sight.

Something was wrong. Why was he running away from you?

A loud creak from somewhere above you made you wince. Moving again, you called out Yoongi’s name into the storm.

The hail let up a little as you pressed on, but the raging air only grew more forceful. Creaks and groans from the battered trees surrounded you. Squinting around you, you let your feet stumble on, needing to find him. Among the storm, you could barely hear your thumping footsteps.

An ear-splitting creak made you flinch, head whipping around.

The dark shape of a tree trunk was growing bigger – growing closer.

A blur then, your eyes squeezing shut by instinct, awaiting the crash of the giant hitting the earth.

Nothing.

Cracking your eyelids open, the wind lulled in the air around you, silence buzzing loud in your ears. In front of you, the tree was tilting dangerously, towering directly over you, but caught in mid-air. And holding it up, a colossal sheet of ice, jagged icicles sticking out to one side as if from impact.

You blinked. Let out a breath.

Following the trail of ice, you turned to the side.

There, hand still outstretched, panting slightly, stood Min Yoongi.

“I’m sorry,” he half-whispered.

As you stared blankly back in shock, his eyes flicked back to the tree above you.

“Come here,” he spoke, beckoning you with his other hand.

Obeying, you trod carefully towards him. Once near enough, he gently placed a hand on your sweater-covered arm, guiding you to his side.

As you watched, he lowered his left hand slowly, the wall of ice retracting with it, melting back into the ground. With barely a bump, the tree was lowered to rest.

Returning your eyes gingerly to the boy beside you, your gaze was not returned.

His eyelids shut, lips pressing together as he bowed his head, bringing his arm back to his side at last. He swallowed.

“Y-yoongi?” you whispered.

“I’m sorry, I really am,” he muttered, still not meeting your eyes, “I should never have started anything…”

“But-but I want you!” you protested.

Now he looked at you. He looked at you like you were crazy.

“Did you not see that? What I just did?”

“You saved me.”

A breath.

“But… all the rest? I-I made that tree fall too-”

“The wind made it fall-“

“Y/N,” he stopped you, “your mum is right. I can be dangerous, okay? This storm, that’s me.”

Studying your face carefully, he waited for your reaction.

“Why?”

“It’s always been like this,” he sighed, “I’m… I have storm magic. Winter magic. My family, we’re- I’m… Jack Frost.”

Your eyebrows raised.

“No, but I mean, why the storm? Is something wrong?”

A breathy laugh burst from his lips as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Of course there is! I can’t have you.”

“You don’t have to be scared,” you insisted.

“Don’t you understand? You’re the one who should be scared!” he cried, throwing his arms out.

“No,” you shushed him, stepping forward and slowly reaching out, “you’re scared – of hurting me. You don’t have to be.”

Settling, he watched your hand reach through the air. But as it hovered by his cheek, he pulled away.

“Don’t…”

“Yoongi, I want you.”

“And I want you. But you can’t touch me. I’ll just be cold…”

“Don’t worry,” you smiled.

But as you moved again, his hand came up to grasp your wrist, stopping you.

Then his eye widened, realising what he’d done. But you hadn’t flinched away. Looking at your hands held together, his mouth formed ghosts of words he never spoke, not knowing what to say.

“See?” you encouraged, “it’s not cold.”

Wonder-filled eyes rose, meeting your own. Closing the distance between you, he dropped your wrist and lifted both his hands to cup your face instead, touching you softly as if you were made from porcelain.

A breath escaped his lungs, mouth curving into a gummy smile.

Elated, a smile tugged at your own lips.

Then he surged forwards, lips pressing against yours like a starved man. Moving his mouth hungrily over yours, he held your face firmly between his hands as you eagerly kissed him back. Suddenly his hands were unable to get enough, sliding down to your waist and roaming across your back as he pulled you closer.

Equally enthusiastic, you tugged at his shirt, lips keeping up their mind-blowing rhythm until you were both left panting, foreheads pressed together as your breaths turned to laughter between you.

“Screw what this town thinks,” you grinned, “I’m not letting you go after that.”

“Good,” he growled, smirk adorning his face as he darted in for another lingering kiss.

The trees you stood among had watched you both grow, watched you hurt, and now they finally saw you come together, painted by the setting sun in a clear sky.

Thank you for reading!! Reblog this if you enjoyed, it helps me get exposure unlike likes💜

@aianloveseven​ @preciouschimine​

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[sunshine-burnt]

Truth

Akaashi Keiji x reader

He knows there’s no reason to be thinking like this, especially with you in his arms. The movie playing entrances you, but Akaashi Keiji cannot focus on whatever the two of you are watching. His thoughts consume him, eating away at his sanity, at his happiness. He doesn’t even notice how he has tensed and holds you a little too tightly.

“Keiji?” Your gentle voice shatters his spiral of self-deprecation and insecurity. Your fiance offers you a strained smile, but you can tell he is unwell from just a glance at those stunning, gunmetal blue eyes. “What’s going on in your beautiful mind?”

He’s tempted to lie to you, tell you it’s nothing, but the earnest tone you use makes him spill his lies. “I’m not enough for you.”

Your heart shatters at how he states this like fact. Maybe to him it is fact, it is his truth. In one quick moment you turn off the tv and swing yourself onto his lap. He startles before resting his hands on your hips, nervously looking at you.

“Akaashi Keiji, you are not perfect.” The dark haired male glances away. You hold his face firmly, guiding his eyes back to you. “That is fact. But you are more than enough for me. That is fact.”

“How can you say that,” he all but whispers, but you don’t have to lean forward to catch his words. A genuine smile settles on your face.

“It is truth. It is my truth. I will continue to combat your mind’s lies with my truth until the day I die, and should we find each other in another life, I will do just the same. For eternity,” you assure him, taking his hand and tracing the matching ring on his finger. “I promise, Keiji.”

His face flushes, and though he is tempted to turn away, that same honesty that originally drew him to you causes him to stare at you. And as usual, you never look away. 

The rest of the night is spent cuddling and whispering sweet nothings into his ears, running your hands through his hair and kissing him. Both of you know this is not the end of his lies, but there is always that promise of tomorrow. And for him, that is more than enough.

[skymagpie]

Into the Viktorverse - personal thoughts and rant about the whole situation with Viktor and Arcane from me after stanning this character for 10 years, let’s go

First of all I want to preface that this is not an anti-Arcane or anti-Arcane!Viktor rant or in any way criticism of the show or his character, but a very personal essay on what the original Machine Herald meant to me and whether I can love the current Viktor the same.

I loved Viktor a week after he was announced in 2011. The first week I did hate him a lot because back then League of Legends was a little bit more “medieval” fantasy if anything (despite Dr. Mundo existing? Take the complaints to 15 year old me) and I didn’t like his “normal” name and also was really disturbed by cyborgs. It took me a week to fall in love and then he became my ultimate comfort character, not just a fave, but he was everything I drew, wrote and talked about. To put into context, this was also during a very difficult time in my life when my several mental illnesses began being symptomatic and to a 15 year old with newly diagnosed anxiety and depression, this bond was very meaningful.

As for the lore, his old lore was certainly unique. I can’t say that it was developed in depth the way his current and his Arcane lore are, but it was different. He decided to reject humanity because the hurt he faced after Stanwick’s betrayal was so great that it sent him to spiral down in deep depression. Not only was his life’s work stolen but he was betrayed by someone he looked up to. And in turn he decided to remove his own body parts as to improve himself! Talk about having a conversation about mental illness and self harm. It was not perfect, it lacked details and clear motivation, but it spoke to me and many others. Viktor was a good man who wanted to help people, but still arrogant and eccentric, he still became very radical in the end because his hurt was so deep he felt like he needs to remove and replace his own body to escape feeling such strong emotions. He wasn’t easy to sympathize with, but also not easy to condemn, he was perfectly complex and strange.

In 2012 they introduced Jayce and that’s when trouble started - these two characters were not intertwined and Viktor no longer had a pretty standalone story as he did previously. There was a situation where Jayce’s first lore made him a horrible Saturday morning cartoon villain but luckily the small loyal fanbase he had at the time argued on the forums until it was changed to Jayce’s 2nd old lore.

Enter the lore change of 2016, or what I like to call “The Compromise” - it’s an attempt to slowly move from the old lore to his Arcane lore as in to ease us in. And its probably my least favourite version of the three. There are few key points that are weird:

Viktor augments others before he does himself as opposed to how him augmenting himself was kinda tied to his own dissociation from his body and his firm belief that he is right, so much so that he cut off healthy limbs to replace with his technology.

Blitzcrank and Stanwick are mentioned, but they don’t affect Viktor in any way so they can be completely left out and the lore could still exist - this was done with Arcane in mind.

Viktor drugs a kid. And people. It’s like his thing. He kinda goes from being really nice to dark super fast and the lore doesn’t really treat this as a bad thing at first, but it’s definitely a noticeable weird shift.

Jayce is so ever-present I wonder if this is his lore too.

And finally, there is Arcane Viktor whom...I love actually? I mean you really need to be a monster not to sympathize with him, he is a disabled man from the slums who made it big because of his intellect, he is kind, polite, a little snarky and arrogant when needed but overall very gentle and nice. He has a third version of Viktor’s lore as Viktor was not disabled in the previous two and he didn’t need the Hextech augmentation to survive, rather he did that to himself because he believed his abled body was “flawed” in some way. So Arkane Viktor has a huge shift into making Viktor extremely likable and sympathetic, which I guess is preparing us for that Act 3.

And I love Arcane Viktor, he is my age, he is my type of guy, he looks how I imagined Viktor more or less, minus the black hair from his old lore, they even got the light brown/orange eyes that I feel everyone head canon-ed for Viktor! I would take this man home to meet my parents. He is just so likable and had I not known the original Viktor, I’d be in love with Arcane Viktor. He is everything I wished for except...he is not my Viktor.

That’s where the issues begin...they are kind of the same but they are just so different. They are noticeably different characters. Perhaps you could say they are different renditions of the same character, with different backstories, ages, general vibes and energy, different circumstances, different motivations and different friends.

So how can I forget the Viktor I loved for 10 years? The Viktor I drew, I role played on my blog @themachineherald​, the Viktor I wrote and I shipped with my OCs and other champions? How can I just unlove the character who helped me through the darkest times in my teenage years? How can I just toss him aside as if he was never there, forget him, pretend like it was all a mistake, an old draft, a discarded sketch? I can’t. He will always be my Viktor. But on the other hand, how can I not love Arcane Viktor, with all his heart and kindness and charm? How can I toss him aside, claim he is new and inferior and the old is always “better” and just disregard his story. They are both my favourite character, even though they are not the same character.

I am torn and I am conflicted. I can’t let go of my Viktor and all I wrote for him. I can’t. But I hope I can find place in my heart for Arcane Viktor and that in time I’ll love him just as much.

[procrastinatorimagines]

Our Little Secret (Part 4)

Fandom: TVD / The Originals

Series: Our Little Secret

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 //

Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 // Part 11 // Part 12 // Part 13 // Part 14 // Part 15 (Final)

Pairing: Klaus x Reader

Warning/s: none

Word Count: 2,552

Summary: It’s the Mikaelson family ball and Y/N just wants to have a magical evening with Klaus, but nothing is ever as it seems in Mystic Falls.

Tags: @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ // @april-14-blog​ // @akshi8278​

It was a dance, it was just a dance, so why were you feeling so self-conscious?

Klaus had figured that it would be the best way to keep you safe, now that his family already knew about you going out in public together, and meeting his mother, seemed like the best way to ensure no blood would be spilled. 

You’d noticed a change in Klaus recently, spending more time with his mother and family had given him a more optimistic approach to the future, and you were happy to see that this future he envisioned contained you.

He’d left you a dress, a gorgeous off the shoulder saphire ball gown, the price of which you didn’t even want to think about as you stroked the fabric on its hanger. Perfect fit, not that you were surprised, Klaus had always had an eye for that sort of thing. 

Glancing back at that dress as you did your hair and make up, you started to feel optimistic too, maybe things were finally starting to look up In Mystic Falls, maybe...

Elena wasn’t happy that you were going with Klaus, but she’d been too preoccupied with something else to put up much of an argument, which wasn’t like her. There was definitely something else going on, but her and the Salvatores were keeping you in the dark. You’d never exactly been in their inner circle as such, but you knew they were keeping even more from you now that you were with Klaus, you just hoped everything was okay.

The house was swarming with elegantly dressed people as you arrived, Klaus waiting outside for you, arm out to take. His face lit up when he saw you, taking in the dress like he’d never seen it before, even though he’s the one who bought it. 

All your fears about tonight melted away when you saw his smile, all that you wanted to focus on tonight was the two of you.

“Hello, love,” Klaus greeted you with a kiss on the cheek, “you look perfect,” you blushed, smoothing down the skirt of the dress as he smirked. Dresses weren’t usually your thing, especially something as fancy as the one you had on now.

“Thanks,” you replied, straightening out his tie a little before heading into the main room. You couldn’t help but look around in awe, the Mikaelson household was... impressive to say the least, it took your breath away. The columns, the marble, the chandelier... They certainly had refined taste, you guessed after a thousand years anyone would. 

Klaus twirled you slightly as he led you onto the main floor, where some couples were already enjoying a moderately slow dance, it looked like a fairytale. It felt like one too as Klaus put a hand on your waist, leading you into a dance. 

You couldn’t help but smile, looking up at Klaus as he looked at you in wonder, he was mesmerised by you. “I’m glad we get to do this,” you told him. Your friends and sister hadn’t arrived yet, so you were glad for some uninterupted moments with Klaus, and you relaxed into the magic of it all.

“There’s no one else I’d rather be here with,” he told you honestly, spinning you in time with the music and pulling back into him closer than before, faces inches apart as he dipped you gently. This was all that you’d wanted, to be out with Klaus in public, everything else a million miles away, you could almost forget about anything else that had happened, and for a second you allowed yourself to feel normal. You were just a girl, and he was a boy, and you were enjoying a dance.

That fantasy didn’t last long though, as you spotted Damon, Stefan, and Elena entering as Klaus leaned in for a kiss. He stopped when he noticed your expression harden a little, turning to see them enter. Elena’s eyes went straight to the two of you, flanked by the Salvatore’s like they were her bodyguards.

She looks amazing, she always did, and with the Salvatores looking like that, it looked like some kind of cat walk as they swept across the floor and into the hall. You and Klaus paused your dance as the music began to change. 

“Everything alright love?” Klaus asked you with a nod in the direction of your sister. You wanted to say yes but honestly you weren’t sure, they couldn’t be planning anything for tonight could they? Besides, what was there to plan, everyone was on peaceful terms now, weren’t they?

“I hope so,” you said honestly, not being able to give him a proper answer as you saw the rest of his siblings fill into the hall. Most of the guests had arrived now, Klaus would be going to help make a toast with his family soon, and then you’d be formally meeting them as his girlfriend.

You felt extra nervous, you’d probably have felt the usual level of nervous meeting your boyfriend’s family if he was a regular human, but Klaus was a thousand year old Original vampire, whose siblings were just as old and whose mother was a seriously powerful witch. No big deal right? 

“They’ll love you,” he tried to reassure you, sensing the dread that was creeping in. He seemed so sure, so happy now, you wished you were as confident as him about this whole situation, but you still had this feeling, something you couldn’t shake. 

But you tried, putting on another smile as you squeezed his hand, “well as long as you do, that’s all that matters,” you told him as Elijah called everyone to attention, standing in the middle of the spiral staircase, glass in hand for a toast.

Klaus winked at you, kissing you on the cheek quickly as he made his way to where his siblings were taking their places. You gravitated a little towards Elena, not wanting to stick out too much in the crowd as the Mikaelson’s began to look around at the guests.

You had a sinking feeling that some were sizing up their next meals, but you tried to shake that feeling, you eyes shooting to the new figure that appeared next to the siblings. She was older, more mature looking and dressed like she knew just how powerful she was. Her very stance seemed to command respect as she listened to Elijah make his toast.

Esther, their mother, you realised as you watched her, only half listening to what Elijah was saying, noting the way her eyes skimmed the crowd, looking between you and Elena curiously as she did. 

Elijah wrapped up and everyone toasted, the Mikaelson’s all making their way down on the main floor to mingle. Klaus made a beeline straight for you, looking proud as his mother headed in the same direction.

You and Elena shared a look, and you could tell she was concerned about you, but she gave you a small supportive nod, one which you returned as you took a breath and met Klaus half way.

“Mother, this is Y/N, Y/N, this is my mother,” Klaus introduced the two of you, unable to contain a happiness you’d rarely, if ever, seen on him so openly. Esther offered you her hand to shake, her smile more tight and contained as she surveyed you carefully.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you told her as Klaus put an arm around your back.

She nodded, “the pleasure’s all mine, it’s good to finally meet the person whose made my Niklaus so happy, thank you.” Klaus looked a little embarrassed but your heart couldn’t help but swell.

“Well he makes me happy too,” you told her, not sure why you’d felt so nervous about meeting her. It’s not like you needed anyone else’s approval to be with Klaus, that much had been clear already, but you had to admit, it felt very good to be accepted by Klaus’ mother.

Klaus clearly looked like he felt the same way as he looked between you and his mother. That’s what was different, you realised, Klaus looked younger almost now, not so much weathered by the years now, like his mother being here had lifted a weight from his shoulders. 

“I would love to stay and chat, but I think I best do some rounds first,” Esther excused her self, looking back at you for a second with an expression you couldn’t quite read before she headed off. You didn’t have a chance to think about what that meant before Klaus practically swept you off your feet.

“Another dance?” He offered you a hand very dramatically, dipping into it as he grinned at you, practically bowing.

“Don’t mind if I do,” you giggled, curtseying as best you could as accepting his hand, letting him bring you back onto the dance floor. 

You lost track of Esther quickly, as Elena, but you didn’t give it as much thought as you should have done, too caught up in the moment with Klaus, your worry pushed away. Later, you’d wished you had given it more thought, realised that the evening had been so perfect that it must have been too good too be true. 

But soon you were laughing and dancing with Klaus, so caught up in your own temporary happiness as you shared a champagne toast with all the other guests and enjoying the delicious food being served. 

Before you knew it, Klaus was walking you home, both of you happy and content with your amazing night, his jacket over your shoulders as you talked and laughed. It was dark, but you could see the stars as you walked. Elena was already home when you arrived on your front steps, the light shining from the living room and her bedroom.

Your hand was still in Klaus’ when you paused at the door. “Tonight was perfect,” Klaus said, wrapping his arms lazily around you as he drew you in for a goodbye kiss. You were a little lightheaded when he eventually pulled away, or maybe it was the champagne, but whatever it was it had left a warm and pleasant feeling all over you.

“Yeah it was,” you replied, resting your forehead against Klaus’. “Goodnight Klaus.”

“Goodnight Y/N,” Klaus said finally, accepting his jacket back from you as he gave you another quick kiss, neither of you wanting this night to end but knowing that it had to. 

You didn’t go inside straight away as Klaus headed down your steps, looking back at you multiple times before he disappeared from sight. Only then did you sigh, taking a breath before straightening up. Tonight had been a dream, but you knew it was about time to face reality.

Elena and the Salvatores had mercifully left you both alone most of the night, besides the occasional small talk, or back talk where Damon was concerned, so you didn’t know quite what to expect when you headed in. But it was time to face the music.

You unlocked the door and headed inside, not finding Elena in the living room or kitchen as you made yourself a glass of water, finally slipping off your heels and wandering up the stairs, a small smile still on your face as you made your way to your room.

Elena was clearly in hers, her door open a crack to reveal other figures too, Damon and Stefan no doubt, you thought as you opened your door, pausing as you caught your name being mentioned. 

“Y/N will never forgive me,” you heard Elena saying, conflict clear in her voice as Damon scoffed. 

“It’s for her own good, and for the good of everyone else,” he replied, “he’s a monster, and none of them are innocent, she’ll realise that eventually.” Were they talking about Klaus, the Mikaelsons?

“Damon’s right Elena,” Stefan agreed, “we’re better off without them.” You swallowed hard, not even daring to breath as you kept listening, hand frozen on your door handle. Without them?...

“Esther’s giving us a free pass, a way to kill the Originals once and for all, and I say we take it, you’ve already done the first step,” Damon said as your face turned to one of shock and horror. 

They were going to kill the Mikaelson’s, kill Klaus, and Esther was helping them... That’s where they both disappeared off you, you realised, kicking yourself for letting your guard down, not registering what was happening right in front of you.

Damon saw you then out of the crack in the door, face falling as you turned quickly, dropping both your shoes and glass of water. It clattered to the floor as you tried to make your way down the stairs, but Damon was much quicker than you, blocking your path.

Stefan and Elena made their way out of the room then too, and Elena at least had the good sense to seem guilty as she stared at you.

“Well this won’t do,” Damon said, standing firm as you tried to push past him.

“I won’t let you do this,” you told them. Why couldn’t they see that Klaus wasn’t the demon they all thought he was? The Mikaelson’s were making a home for themselves here, they didn’t want anymore trouble... 

“There’s nothing you can do about it,” Damon informed you as Elena cast him a warning look, “what? We can’t let her tell Klaus.”

Elena was at a loss for words so Stefan spoke up. “Damon’s right, she’ll warn him the first chance she gets, we need to do something with her.”

“I’m standing right here,” you interjected angrily, “and you are not going to do anything to me. Elena-” you pleaded to your sister as she shared a look with Damon, having a silent conversation you couldn’t follow before they both looked back to you.

“I’m sorry Y/N, but it’ll all be okay, you’ll see, this will only be temporary I swear-” she tried to explain but you were hardly following.

“Elena what the hell are you talking about?” You demanded, your stomach dropped as strong hands grabbed you. Stefan looked sorry, but Damon was clear in his objective as he whisked you away from your sister, your house.

Before you knew it you were in a dark room, whirling around to find Damon shutting a large door. You were back at the Salvatore house, you were in the damn dungeons.

“Damon!” You yelled, slamming into the door as it shut, locking you in. “Damon!” You tried again but he shook his head.

“Sorry Y/N, but it’s for your own good,” he told you through the bars as you slapped and pushed at the wood, unable to do anything. 

“You can’t leave me down here!” You cried out as he turned to walk away.

“It won’t be for long,” he promised, but it was a cold comfort for the one stuck in a cell.

You screamed in frustration, not saying anything in particular as Damon left, leaving you all alone, with no way to warn Klaus... They had a way to kill him, and you were stuck here, unable to do anything. 

Sobbing you fell back against the door, slipping to the floor and curling your knees up to your chest. 

What the hell were you going to do now?

[eddie-redmayne-italian-blog]

Eddie Redmayne on ‘Red,’ the Tonys, and Color Blindness

By BlackBook Published: June 3, 2010

At 28, Eddie Redmayne has perfected a look of fresh-faced innocence masking inner commotion. He’s invoked the expression for various roles, as the chilling young murderer Alex Forbes in Like Minds and as a downward-spiraling, matricide-committing homosexual opposite Julianne Moore in Savage Grace. On stage, he’s played the emotionally charged boy whose architect father falls in love with a goat in Edward Albee’s The Goat, or Who Is Sylvia? Redmayne keeps a copy of the play with him in his current dressing room at the Golden Theater, where he’s starring in the Tony Award-nominated play Red alongside Alfred Molina. Redmayne, who nabbed one of those noms himself (for Best Performance by a Featured Actor), plays another permutation of the plotting innocent—not a murderer, but no less intense as the fictional assistant to abstract expressionist painter Mark Rothko (Molina). We caught up with the actor to discuss the fate of Rothko’s famous murals, his own color blindness, and what he’s wearing to the Tonys.

I saw the play last night and am still recovering. It was intense! How do you do it night after night? Well, last night I had some friends in so I ended up going for some drinks after and I woke up this morning with a slightly filthy hangover. So I punished myself by doing tax receipts.

What drew you to the play? I assume it had something to do with your background studying art in college. Well, the theater in [London’s] Donmar Warehouse where the play started is one of the great gems of theaters in the world, and Michael Grandage, who runs it, is a wonderful man. I’ve seen a lot of his work for many years, and I’ve worked at the Donmar before, but never under him. So when the idea of a two-handed play specifically about art—the idea that the arts matters—came up, it was one of those rare moments where everything that I was interested in and engaged in kind of collided, a wonderful little moment of fate. 

The play focuses on the murals Rothko painted for the Seagram building before he changed his mind about giving them up. A few ended up in the Tate Modern. Isn’t the museum naturally lit, which would seem to go against Rothko’s wishes? The story is that once he withdrew the commissions he had—I think it was 35 canvases— all the museums in the world wanted to get their hands them. So obviously, Rothko was very tentative about who he would give them to. And one of the guys was Sir Norman Reed, who was the curator of the Tate, and for ten years Norman Reed would swear to Rothko that they would build or create special rooms specifically for them at the Tate Britain—this was before the Tate Modern existed. The wall color would be as prescribed by Rothko, the lighting would be exactly as he wanted, and eventually Rothko agreed to that. So ten years after the end of the play, the same day that the Seagram murals arrived off the boat in London, Sir Norman Reed got a call that Rothko had been found by his assistant with his wrists slit. So the answer is that some of these murals, which were originally in the Tate Britain, are now in the Tate Modern in a room that is lit properly. 

Alfred Molina had source material to draw on as Rothko, but your character Ken is fictitious. Where did you find your inspiration? What’s interesting is subsequent to doing the play in America, I got a letter from a woman called Virginia Foster, who is the widow of a guy called Dan Rice, and he was Rothko’s assistant during the Seagram murals. And whilst the character is not based on him, Virginia sent me this transcript of him talking about working for Rothko. And weirdly, even though I’ve done the play in London and done it here, reading the transcript reinforced some of the character. But I approached it the way I approach any character—I see what’s in the text and flesh it out with references from life. And certainly, I’ve had experiences with elder actors and bosses in the past who I’ve had complex and tricky relationships with. 

There’s a scene where Ken is talking to someone on the phone, trying to decide whether to show Rothko his own paintings. Who was he talking to? That’s a very good question. I think it’s his girlfriend, and John Logan (the writer) thinks it’s his boyfriend. It remains a bone of contention between the two of us. 

You did your college dissertation on Yves Klein, who was a big advocate of blue. [Laughs] So this is the sequel.

As an art lover, do you have a color preference? The color that Yves Klein does. Wet paint has a luminosity that dies when it dries and it loses the gloss. So Yves created this color scientifically that retains that luminosity. He was a big showman, so he got it copyrighted. The color is called IKB—International Klein Blue. And it sounds all bullshit-y and ridiculous, but when you stand in front of those canvases, the color is sublime and dumbfounding. So that specific color is my favorite color in the world. Are you going to follow this up with a colorblind question?

No, wasn’t planning on it, but if you want to discuss it. No, I talk passionately about that color and then people go “but you’re colorblind.” And I go, “I know. I don’t know what I see but I see it and I like it.” 

You must have some confidence because you already have the Olivier award for this role. Are you nervous about the Tonys? Do you know what? It’s amazing how many award ceremonies there are in America. Am I nervous about the Tonys? Genuinely, the nomination was completely beyond anything I’ve ever thought about.

 You’re being so diplomatic. I wanted to ask who you consider to be your biggest competition. Frustratingly, one problem with doing plays here is that you don’t get to see anything because your schedule doesn’t allow it. But I’ve met all the guys and I’ve heard extraordinary things about Stephen in Fences and Stephen Kunken in Enron is meant to be wonderful. Do you have your outfit picked out? I do. A couple of years ago I did some work with Christopher Bailey who runs Burberry. I’m a huge fan of his so I’m going to be cut out in British Burberry. 

So what’s next? I see there’s something called The Pillars of the Earth? I’m actually really excited about it. It’s a huge epic medieval story that was a book by Ken Follett and it was one of Oprah’s favorite books and was subsequently a massive international bestseller. It’s being aired on the Starz network in July. It’s an 8-hour miniseries and I play this young boy who is mute and has grown up in the forest and who, over eight hours, becomes a master builder. So it’s about apprenticeship and craft and it’s also set in a historical time, with monarchs changing and war. What I’ve seen looks spectacular.

https://blackbookmag.com/archive/eddie-redmayne-on-red-the-tonys-and-color-blindness/

[minijenn]

8 Favorite Works of the Year

So I wasn’t tagged to do this but I kinda wanted to anyway. Because I did a lot of creating this year and dangit I wanna look back on it fondly, so...

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 8 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome work!

To be fair I’m gonna pick four pieces of art and four chapters from my fics, two of each from either Keys or UF to be fair about things. With that said here  we go, in kind of no particular order! Starting with fics: 

Keys to the Kingdom, Chapter 22: Rise and Fall and Rise Again: So I wrote this chapter kind of at the start of all the Covid/lockdown madness, when I had just started working from home and felt kinda trapped inside my own apartment, with a lingering sense of doom hanging over my head just about every day (something that hasn’t really gone away). As a result, I poured my emotions into this one, a chapter I’d been planning for such a long time, only for it to come out even better than I could have expected! I think this is where Keys really starts to get good (well, this one and the chapter right before it that leads into it). Its the longest chapter of Keys (so far) and it really is just a ton of angst and hurt and comfort and kind of a pretty good character study for both Sora and Kairi if you ask me, and it does pave the way for Keys 2nd arc (which we’re knee deep in the middle of now!). Overall it has a lot of very poignant lines in it, a lot of emotional scenes, and some pretty cute moments of fluff mixed in to leave you feeling good, its a real treat every time I go back to revisit it. 

Universe Falls, Ch. 80, Part 1: Rifts: So this year was kinda sparse on really BIG UF chapters, but Rifts is for sure probably the biggest chapter in UF yet. And I’m so, so proud of it, I think it has some incredible high points of action in it, its very intense and emotional and the situation just keeps building from bad to worse and you really just feel for Steven, and Dipper, and Stepper alike and Bill is such an asshole in it and gah! Its so good I love it so much and I had such a fun time writing it, especially after waiting YEARS to finally get the chance to. I think its fantastic. 

Keys to the Kingdom, Ch. 27: What Once Was Mine: This is absolutely my favorite Disney world chapter in the entire fic so far (tho that second Beauty and the Beast chapter comes REALLY close to it!); it has such a broad range of emotions, starting out really fun and lighthearted and sweet and then it starts spiraling into fear and pain and intensity and finally it bottoms out at sheer despair, culminating in probably one of my favorite Trinity Trio scenes in this entire fic. Its not always easy mixing Keys’ original plot elements with the Disney stuff, but in this chapter it felt so natural to do so, like the Tangled stuff just fit so well. I love how it turned out and it really is another big turning point in the fic’s trajectory if you ask me. 

Universe Falls, Ch. 80, Part 3: Dimensions: So I ALMOST picked Memories for this list (and don’t get me wrong, I LOVE it!) but I think Dimensions has it beat by just a hair. Its just so intense and dramatic from start to end, with a huge epic battle against Bill, a real show of just how much Steven and Dipper care for each other, emotional reactions from just about the entire squad, and lasting impacts for the rest of the fic. I think it was a perfect way to conclude a trilogy of chapters I’d been so excited about writing since UF’s earliest days, and I’ll never stop being proud of how it all came together in the end. 

And now we move onto some art!

The RMD Promo art was a fun little pet project I wanted to take on, more for me than for the chapters itself. They’re all pretty symbolic to the tone/events of each chapter, from coloring, to posing, to the flower symbolism (which was so fun to research and implement), plus I can never pass up the opportunity to draw my best boy Stepper! 

My Castle of Dreams Sokai piece really just blew up in popularity here on Tumblr. Again it was just something fun and cute I wanted to do, because I have the moment envisioned so vividly in my mind I figured might as well draw it out and I still think it looks so nice, the way these two are looking at each other with such love in their eyes is.... 100% if ya ask me

The Dimensions cover fucking popped off. The coloring, the dynamic posing, the expressions, I really did kinda flex on this one. Yet for as many moving parts as there are in it, its a very simple piece as well, though I do kinda love the idea of Bill just... looming over everyone coming to kick his ass; it really is accurate to how the chapter itself goes down if ya ask me. 

Ok so I know I literally just fucking posted this thing yesterday but I’m proud of it (also I made a self-imposed rule that  commissions aren’t allowed to be in this, only art I drew of my own volition) and I drew this yesterday mostly for funsies and it... kinda got intense. Anyway, I’m trying to learn how to pose KH characters more dynamically and this was part of that. And I loooooove how creepy it is, its hella cool on that front if ya ask me. 

So yeah, I’m supposed to tag people who wanna do this but ehhhghghghghghg just go ahead and do the damn thing if you feel like it, I mean i wasn’t tagged and here I am so go nuts :3

[visceraah]

Unsinkable

My other fic for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange! An analogical titanic fic for @strugglingispointless. And a huge thankyou to @missfay49 for betaing this!!

Rating- teen again! content warnings are in the notes of each chapter

WC- 10873 (I got... very carried away lmao. hope you enjoy!)

Ships- Romantic analogical, backgroundish moceit, and all the sides are in it and interact at one point or another.

AO3

Logan has been the perfect child all of his life. Perfect manners, perfect poise, perfect brain. All that's left is being the perfect husband- marry someone with good status for the family. And he didn't even have to secure his own match, his parents had found one for him.

By all accounts, this should be easy.

Logan learns very, very quickly how wrong that is.

-

There’s no way in hell I’m posting the whole thing here, but the first chapter is under the cut!

Logan didn’t believe anything was ‘perfect’- there was always space for improvement, no matter how miniscule, and settling for anything less with the claim it was already as good as it could be just seemed, as far as he was concerned, lazy.

He pointed this out every time he heard the word, yet it didn’t stop his parents from using it to describe him. The perfect son. Booksmart, eloquent, impeccable manners. But there was always more to learn, and though ‘perfection’ was in itself subjective his social skills could certainly use some work. He, like everything else, wasn’t perfect. His parents didn’t especially appreciate the observation.

The frustrating thing about being ‘perfect’ was you didn’t make mistakes. You couldn’t. Expectations were high and, for the people who put a roof over his head and clothes on his back, Logan refused to disappoint them. So he spent his days studying, learning as much as he could to live up to an expectation he, realistically, knew was unachievable.

It was only natural he spent most of his time in their library, surrounded by dead peoples words. He didn’t mind that much- people were difficult to understand, but books told you exactly what they meant. They weren’t perfect, either, but they were ideal for learning, curling up in an armchair and forgetting about everything and everyone until you’re torn back to reality.

“Logan!” A shrill voice cried, doing just that. He gently shut his book and set it aside.

“Yes, father?”

“Oh, there you are- so small, that’s hardly a gentlemanly way to sit’ now, is it? I could barely see you. Sit up’ now, sit up- there’s my boy!” He doted, Logan’s back instinctively straightening at the command. “Now… Your mother and I have something to talk to you about.”

Logan scanned over his shoulder, a small frown setting onto his face. “I don’t see her.”

“Oh, darling- That’s because I’m doing the talking!” His father exclaimed with a chuckle, seeming to have thought that was a joke. The laugh felt a little patronising, if you asked Logan, and he had no idea why he’d say it’d be a conversation involving someone who wasn’t present, but he nodded like he understood anyway. Experience showed that was easiest. “Well, we’ve got you a match!”

Logan blinked. His father looked at him expectantly. His frown returned. “What would I do with a match...? I’ve told you tobacco makes my lungs feel constricted, and it’s generally Amy's job to light the fireplaces-”

“Oh, Logan!” He laughed again like he’d said something ridiculous. “A romantic match, silly. A fiancé!”

“Ah.” Logan’s eyes flicked back to his book. He’d been reading about constellations before, and though learning of their origins was somewhat less academic than his other studies, it was a passion of his. “Will that be all?”

“You… don’t want to know about him?” His father prodded in that way that signalled he had been meant to ask for details. Logan shook his head anyway.

“I know I’m around that age, and I trust you to choose an adequate match- so long as I live with a library, I cannot foresee any issues.”

There was a beat of silence, for a minute, before his father seemed to come to terms with his answer. He let out a delayed squeal, squishing Logan’s face uncomfortably between his hands and pressing a kiss he had to fight not to move back from to his forehead. “There’s our boy!”

Logan offered him a smile, hand already reaching back for his book.

-

Virgil groaned loudly, tearing a page from his sketchbook and crumpling it up in his fist. He threw the balled up paper at the bin... and watched it bounce off the lid, onto the floor with all his other attempts. He slumped and hit his head on the table. Nothing he drew was good enough. Seemed to be a pretty consistent theme in his life, actua--

“I’m home!” He heard his brother yell, almost like the self deprecation had summoned him. That happened a surprising amount, and Virgil was beginning to wonder if he had some kind of sixth sense for wallowing.

“What’re all these?”

Virgil peered up to see Patton scoop up some of his discarded paper and huffed. “Shit.”

“Hey, language!” Patton scolded, unfolding one. Virgil knew better than to protest because, either way, there was nothing he could do to stop the incoming onslaught of validation. Pretty rude of his brother, if you asked him, breaking in like this and ruining his lamenting. “Kiddo, this is amazing!”

“Kinda loses its meaning when you say that about everything, Patt.” Virgil grumbled, pulling his hood up. “It’s covered in mistakes- I kept having to rub them out but it happened so much the paper just looks messy and flaky, but I kept fu- screwing up and-”

“There’s no such thing as a mistake.” Patton scolded lightly, not wanting to let him fix onto something so negative. “Just-”

“If you say ‘happy accidents’ I’m setting the apartment on fire.” Virgil warned, hiding a small smile.

“You know me too well.” Patton replied with a deep sigh, slipping into the chair opposite him and not quite meeting his eyes. “In other news, though... I’ve got news. Oh! I said ‘news’ twice.” He giggled, and Virgil rolled his eyes- before he registered what ‘news’ meant. It meant something new, which meant change and, yeah, they didn’t exactly have the money to keep going as they were in this shitty expensive flat without any work but where else would they go? Were they homeless now? Was the news that they were being kicked out? He knew they were overdue but they had time, still, surely--

“Kiddo! Kiddo, I’m sorry, I should’ve been clearer.” Patton gently pulled him back to reality, the guilty look on his face enough to make Virgil feel terrible for spiralling. He didn’t admit that, though, because it’d make Patton feel worse, and then they’d just be in their own spiral of upsetting one by upsetting the other and he did not have the emotional stability to deal with that. “I have a job!”

Virgil was pretty much a master in nerves, and he could spot them a mile away- especially in his brother. The wringing of hands and avoidance of eye contact wasn’t exactly subtle. Why he’d be nervous about getting work when they needed it so desperately, though, didn’t seem right. Was he a criminal? Were they going to get arrested? “That’s… good?” He offered, before he could jump to any more awful conclusions.

“It is!” Patton nodded eagerly, latching onto it. “Just…”

“Just...?”

“It’s on a boat.”

Virgil's throat went dry. “We can’t swim.”

“I know, but most of the crew can’t, it’s really safe, and we’ll have our own room and it’ll be warm and-”

Virgil shook his head quickly. “We’ll be surrounded by miles and miles of sea and we can’t keep afloat by ourselves and if it sinks we’re fucked and-”

“We… don’t have much of a choice.” Patton reminded him softly, and they both involuntarily looked over at the red envelopes shoved under the door. Their eviction notices. “Anyway, cheer up kiddo- they say it’s unsinkable!”

[toraashi]

princess au ft. chuuya nakahara prt 2

Title: Untitled Princess AU prt 2

Pairing: Chuuya Nakahara x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Genre: fluff, swearing, horribly written ending and lots of cringe, nothing bad though. Um also aristocratic standards of beauty are mentioned rip

Word Count: 2,221

Author’s Note: I must’ve gotten hella tired when I originally wrote this because the ending is literally garbage but I don’t want to edit it right now, so here it is for you. Love you all thank you for joining Chuuya princess AU brainrot hours

 She stumbled out of the carriage awkwardly, desperately grabbing her escort for balance. 

“Oi!” Of course, the unsuspecting ginger was caught off guard as she tumbled to the ground. 

“My lady!” The driver exclaimed, but was shot down by the bodyguard’s sharp glare. With a huff, she stood back up, brushing off her dress.

“I’m definitely not suited to this life. Chuuya, why do I have to go to every single damn ball my father is invited to?” The man chuckled.

“Something tells me you’ve been around the staff too much.” He held out his hand, eliciting a soft blush. 

“Look, Chuu-Chuu, I can walk by myself.” 

“Clearly not, and make sure you don’t call me that in front of anybody.”

“Why? Does it embarrass you? Chuu-Chuu! Chuu-Chuu-” With a low growl, he scooped the shorter being up, tossing her over his shoulder and twirling around.

“Shut up! You sound like a goddamn train!” The girl squeaked, giggling as he tickled her sides. The entire scene was entirely unprofessional and illegal, but adorable nonetheless. The duo couldn’t help themselves, for each time they approached each other, explosions equivalent to bombs exploded in their hearts. 

How unsightly.

The king’s right hand flitting around with his liege's daughter.

Upon setting her down, she rested her hand on his elbow, allowing him to walk her inside. 

“Erg. These pins hurt my head.” Before she could reach up to yank them out, her loyal bodyguard caught her gloved hand. 

“The boss won’t be too happy if your hair’s all wild and out, you know.” Pouting, she whined,

“I know, Chuuya, but I hate it!”

“Yeah, well, you’ve got to do it. No prince is gonna want a princess who is all messy.”

“But what if I don’t want a prince?” Her murmured words were enough to cause his breath to catch in his throat. They both knew what she was implying, but it was all for naught.

“[Name]-” 

“Don’t even start with me. I already know.” With a reluctant sigh, he squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“Are you walking me in?” the redhead huffed, an endearing pink stain coating his cheeks.

“No! That’d be inappropriate!” She fell silent before murmuring,

“I don’t feel comfortable walking in alone. Besides, you’re my bodyguard. It’s no secret that my father is very protective of me. How is it inappropriate?” 

“Because a suitor is supposed to walk in with you!” his hissed words were strained as if he was struggling to form them.

“Introduce yourself as an executive then! I’ve never had to announce myself like this before, Chuuya. Please?” The male hesitated, falling prey to her vulnerable tone and visage. He gave in before he realized it, adjusting her precariously placed tiara and holding out his arm. 

“The things I do for you…” Gingerly, the princess placed her gloved fingers on his arm. 

“Like this?” With a softened gaze, he nodded, walking her up the vibrant crimson carpet. Each movement felt like he was trekking through an endless swamp of cement. Chuuya had no idea how this was going to reflect on his flawless track record, but in his heart, he knew he'd do it a thousand times over if it provided her with some semblance of comfort.

They approached the inner door, a pair of servants swinging them open at the sight of their invitation cards. The ballroom below them was exceedingly elegant, chandeliers glittering of the vast, domed ceilings, gold lining every rampart and ledge. Intricate paintings and murals were displayed above them, and the pair was awestruck at the magnificence. They tentatively walked forward, revealing the majority of the guests, who were all gazing up at the balcony expectantly. The shorter being beside him stiffened with anxiety, her delicately placed hand shaking on his arm. He strode confidently up to the announcer, speaking each word for his charge.

“Princess [Name] of Yokohama.” The weasel-faced man cast him a strange look, but turned, clearing his throat and bellowing the words.

“Her royal highness, Princess [Name] of Yokohama.” the room applauded, but Chuuya could sense the gossip formulating at the oddity before them: King Mori’s heiress attending with her simpleton bodyguard. Chuuya tensed, resisting the urge to protectively leap in front of the lovely lady. 

The walk down the grand spiral staircase was worse than the walk up. All eyes were tracing every movement they made, and it was clear that the attention was searing [Name]’s nerves. After years of constantly being around her, he had learned to recognize what each finger twitch she made represented. 

“Ah! My lady!” A tall blond man approached them immediately after her crystal slippers made contact with the marble floor.  “You look absolutely ravishing in that gown, has anybody ever told you that?” [Name] gave a tight, polite smile.

“Lord Steinbeck. I’m sorry to say that you’re not the first. A very handsome man told me moments before we arrived.” Chuuya felt a smirk touch his lips and desperately tried to hide his oncoming smug expression. 

“Really? Another suitor, perhaps? Surely you rejected him in that feather-soft tone of yours.” 

“Surely.” The male drew closer, dangerously close.

“My lady, what would you do if I proposed you send your “escort” away while I take you around the palace?” Any stray eavesdroppers would surely not think much of Steinbeck’s proposition, but Chuuya knew exactly what kind of man he was and what “touring the palace” really implied, and it made his temper snap.

“Oi-”

“Well, I’d probably reject you in my fancy feather-soft tone.” Steinbeck looked sincerely shocked.

“Hm? You’d rather be constantly hounded by your father’s lackeys all night long?”

“U-uh… of course not! You know that very well, Steinbeck.” His icy blue eyes were blown with pride and mischief.

“I knew you’d relent, princess.” Chuuya felt a growl rumble in his throat, his eyes burning with rage when he lugged her away from him.

“Oi! What the hell do you think you’re doing?! You don’t get to do that.”

“Oh? And what say do you have in the matter?”

“Last I checked, it’s my duty to protect the princess, and you don’t seem to have any good intentions in mind.”

“I sense that there’s a bit more to the story,” he smirked deviously, “Isn’t there, Chuuya Nakahara? Escorting a dignified lady, not to mention a princess is a far more intimate action than a bodyguard and executive should partake in.” The man’s fingers trailed a sensuous path down her smooth skin, but she pulled away.

“I did not ask for your affection, My Lord. The affairs of my kingdom are most certainly none of your concern. Perhaps you do things differently in your department, but my staff is eternally devoted to my father and me, so this ordeal is hardly out of the ordinary. I strongly suggest you educate yourself before you make such a bold and faulty accusation.” With a fiery glare, she turned and marched off, her skirts rustling behind her. As was in her nature, she tripped over the indigo hem of them.

“Damn these skirts!” Chuuya quickly recovered from his burst of fury, rushing to her aid.

“It’s unseemly to curse in public, My Lady.” He murmured, balancing her.

“It’s also unseemly to insult my father’s prime business partner’s cousin, Chuuya.” A scoff burned his throat. 

“As if I’d let him taint you like that.” 

“Only him?” Her voice suddenly got timid as she swept herself into a nearby love-seat, running her delicate fingers over the gold embroidery.

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” She flushed, “Eventually it’s bound to happen, you are aware, right?”

“Maybe so, but like hell I’m gonna let it be with some nauseating bastard like Steinbeck.” A small smile colored her cheeks.

“It’s unseemly to swear in public, Chuu-Chuu.” 

It’s unseemly to make me fall for you this hard. He thought, turning his face to hide his minuscule flush.

Throughout the course of the ball, many a man asked for a dance, but she deftly refused all of them, lounging in silence with her red-headed companion. 

“[Name], you need to accept someone.”

“You know how dreadful I am at dancing!”

“So?” She let out an exasperated groan.

“I’m not suited for these sorts of things. I’m not elegant like those duchesses and queens. Not to mention I only seem to feel comfortable around you.” Chuuya felt his heartstrings tug. “Chuuya?” 

“Yeah?”

“Have you seen my father anywhere?”

“No, surprisingly. He’s likely treating Elise.”

“Then I have a proposition.” Training his eyes on her, he examined her determined expression. “Let’s go somewhere else.” 

“[Name]...”

“Just somewhere quieter… please, Chuuya?” His name on her tongue was like a choir of angels to his ears, and with a relenting sigh, he caved.

They finally stopped in the vast library, books lining each wall, a cozy fireplace surrounded by expensive sofas. Normally she’d run her hands over the spines of the novels, gushing about her favorite ones with endless delight, but instead, she tugged him into an obscure corner, looping her arms around his body.

“Chuuya…”

“I knew there was more to this escapade.” 

“Please. Just let me hold you. I know this is taboo, but we’ve known each other for our entire lives. I can’t ignore the feelings I’ve developed for you. I know you feel it too, so please, indulge me just this once. I love you. I love you.” Her grip around his waist tightened in sheer desperation, and the urge to kiss her was more powerful than ever. Her sweet vanilla scent pervaded his nose; her warm body was the perfect size for his arms to wind around. 

“This is impossible.” 

“I know, Chuuya!” Warm wet splotches seeped through his shirt, and the male lifted her tear-stained face, gazing intently into her honey-sweet optics with his fluorescent sapphire ones. 

“Chuuya?” He felt frustration, despair, and endless longing contort his soul. She was so close, yet so far.

“Princess.”

“I want you to kiss me.”

“I can’t.”

“Please, Chuuya.” Her soft words seared his mind with white-hot streaks of temptation. “I don’t care about propriety anymore, please, Chuuya.” Her face grew dangerously close and he could feel her minty fresh breath waft over his face. 

“[Name]...” Finally collapsing, he let his mouth capture hers, but he quickly got caught up in her and her taste. His hand flew to her waist, the texture of the gown silky beneath his fingertips. Leaning closer, she placed her hands on his firm shoulders. Suddenly, she bit down on his bottom lip, fingers sliding up his neck and into his ginger locks. Chuuya involuntarily groaned, backing her up against the wall, his kisses gradually growing rougher. Stringing through his hair, the girl in his arms knocked his hat off, letting out breathy moans. As if against his will, his mouth moved down, smooching a trail of fire down to her jaw.

“God, I love you…”

“Chuuya…” As he showered her in affection, he let his endearment for the princess pour out in waves. As wrong as he knew it was, the sensation of being kissed by someone you loved was euphoric to him. The way she whispered his name was honey to his ears. 

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”  They split instantly, but Chuuya still rested his hand on her shoulder protectively. 

“Steinbeck.”

“I suppose I was right in thinking something more than a platonic relationship was blossoming between you two. A princess and her father’s right hand, how scandalous.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” The man gave a sardonic smile.

“Wouldn’t I?” Chuuya growled, stepping forward with less than proper intentions.

“Wait!” Both men glanced at her questioningly. “Don’t endanger him, please. I’ll get my father to accept your marriage proposal.”

“No. I won’t let you wed this scoundrel.” With a melancholy smile, she whispered,

“You’re not my father, Chuuya.”

“But it’s my job to watch over your stupid ass, and I’ll kill him before I let him even touch you.”

“Chuuya-”

“All right, I accept, but any tricks and your secret romance will be mercilessly exposed.” The ginger shoved the girl behind him, fury burning in his veins.

“Over my dead body.”

“Is that so?” Chuuya seethed at his words. “If you even touch me, you’ll create an enemy out of a business partner.”

“It’s not worth it, Chuu.” 

“You are worth it.”  Her breath caught.

“You’d lose everything.”

“You’re everything.” A chuckle escaped her smooth lips.

“Exactly.” With an unsatisfied and murderous glare glazing his crystalline eyes, he reluctantly backed down.

“Then it’s a deal? I guess that means we’ll be seeing each other tomorrow, correct? Without your brainless bodyguard, of course.” In an impulsive burst of adrenaline, Chuuya glowed red, sending a bookshelf tumbling on top of the blond. 

“Chuuya!”

“What? He valiantly saved you from the falling bookcase. Why’re you crying to me?” She was stunned, her [e/c] eyes wide and her hair falling out from its precarious updo. Her shining tiara was lopsided and she smiled. It was such a lovely smile and Chuuya could hardly believe that he was lucky enough to see it every day. 

“Chuuya, I know this isn’t safe, but I want to make this work with you, will you at least try?” And with that one sentence, their lips were pressed together once more.

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[hotsauceonchicken]

Brotherhood

3670 Words

Original Story I made up, I hope you love it

She sat in a poorly lit room at the edge of a bed that was so old she wondered how many generations had slept on it. The sheets and blankets that were once folded nicely, with a crisp finish and inviting look, were now disheveled and dirty. The dirt had come from her. Her old boots were caked with mud and still wet as she stared blankly at the fire. Her socks hung on a pole resting directly in front of it, obscuring her otherwise perfect view of the dancing flames. One sock was slightly askew, and she mindlessly reached over to tug on it, trying to fix it.

It hung perfectly straight in front of her eyes, and a strange smile crept over her face. She wasn’t happy, not in the slightest. But the smile grew and grew while she struggled to contain it. Her skin stretched to amazing lengths, hurting her deathly pale skin. Her teeth were showing now, it was a smile as wide as she had ever felt. Her hands stayed glued to her lap and her eyes to the fire as her face contorted. Suddenly she let out a chuckle. It was hearty and genuine, and all she wanted to do was slap her hand to her face to stop whatever had possessed her. To peel the skin back down into the frown it had been at for days. But she was stuck, glued in her place. Her mind left her body. Why couldn't she move? What had come over her? She panicked, and her heart raced. But her eyes didn’t leave the fire.

She could see each crackling ember, falling from the large block of wood that had been set there earlier. Earlier, when the cabin had seemed like a nice place to be. The orange flames flicked in random directions. They were sporadic and ever-changing. She felt somehow right with the fire. The raging in her mind, the jets of flame were akin to those she saw performing in front of her. They spiraled, just as her life had. She didn’t want any of it. She didn’t want to be alive anymore. But there she was, raging and quietly going insane.

All was quiet except for the crackling fire and the sounds of her own breath escaping her lungs. She had been sitting on the bed for seemingly forever, but it was as if she had never stopped running. She drew in quick, ragged breaths, causing puffs of water vapor to cloud around her.

The sudden feeling of a hand over her mouth and the chilling sensation of the barrel of a gun pressed against her temple felt almost right. She had been expecting it for hours, not knowing when it would come. Finally, it had.

She closed her eyes and tears she had no idea had been forming spilled out. They traveled under the cracks of the man's hand holding her mouth, despite the tight grip. The salty drops made her skin wet and she could taste the salty tang. It was a familiar taste. It was almost comforting to taste and feel something after the numbness. It reminded her she’s still alive, and she almost felt gratitude for the man behind her. He may have had a gun to her head, but he was someone and he was there.

“You are going to get up and you are going to come with me.” He stated. She nodded her head numbly and tears streamed down, covering the man's large hand with cool wetness. “And stop crying. I’m not going to kill you if you would just behave.”

That didn't change anything for her. Her legs still wobbled as she stood, and the man offered no support other than the strong hand pressing deeply into her face. He led her out of the small wood cabin she was left in. Alone. The cabin was small, just a bed, a bathroom, and closet. Not even a kitchen, she couldn’t be trusted with that. The walls were made of long cylindrical pieces of shaved wood, attached horizontally. At each corner, there were darker vertical pieces of a rough-barked tree standing vertically. If she had seen the cabin as a child, she may have loved it.

But instead, the man led her through the enormous front door into the small driveway. A familiar black car was waiting for them. It was dark outside still, but she could see the first colors of the sunrise against the trees outside. There is a dirt road covered in sleet past the driveway, and beyond that, there were only tall pine trees.

The man basically held her up from her face, dragging her almost limp body to the car. One foot numbly in front of the other, without any real pressure or effort to walk. Her eyes wandered as she was ushered forward. The stark contrast of the deep green trees against the swirling clouds of pink and orange. The grayness of the sky was being actively split by the sun as she watched. She wanted to be comforted by it, but the cold gun to her head shrouded her thoughts in numbness.

She almost wanted him to pull the trigger.

The man behind her removed his hand from her mouth and placed it on top of her head, shoving her harshly down to force her into the car. She found herself in the driver's seat of the large black truck. The interior was much like the outside. Completely black, with dirt trekked in by boot prints. The only difference was that she could actually see through the windows from the inside. They were so tinted they looked almost black from the outside, melding with the darkness of the paint. But from the inside, she could see everything.

The car faced towards the cabin, and she could still see the smoke coming from her fire. She remembered the fire dancing across her eyes, no doubt casting firelight across her face as she went insane. She wondered what it must have looked like from someone else’s point of view. Would they think we were deranged? Or would they understand if they knew?

Her car door slammed and she saw the face of the man leading her out through the window. Despite his blindness from the outside, he made perfect eye contact with her, and more tears fell from her eyes. She looked down at her hands in her lap. Noticing her tattered clothing. Her warm leggings were ripped and dirty. Her t-shirt and flannel were wet and rugged, like she’d been outside for days. She should have been cold. There was sleet outside and the weather must have been below freezing.

But she felt nothing.

She wasn’t even sure her heart was beating anymore.

“Drive.” The man said as he entered the car and closed the door. She whimpered slightly as he adjusted his seat next to her. He pulled it up slightly and pulled a cigarette box out of his coat pocket. Unlike her, the man was wearing clothing actually suited for the weather. His coat jacket was long and warm looking, his pants thick with an obvious underlayer where it couldn’t be seen. He looked sleek but still comfortable, his outfit was perfectly suited for utter intimidation while not looking too out of the ordinary.

He lit his cigarette. A familiar flame flicking across the handheld lighter he used. It danced for a moment, she watched the light flash across his eyes. Then in another instant, it was gone, and with his first inhale and exhale the car was filled with the smell of cigarette smoke. A smell she loathed after being trapped in a car with it for hours.

“Did you not hear me,” he threatened, leaning slightly forward in his seat. The small action was enough to make you flinch. “Drive.” He said again, in a more commanding tone. She did what she was told. She looked up at the rearview mirror to find the key hanging as it had been so many times before. She carefully reached up to grab it. She noticed how shakey her hands were as quiet fear took hold of her. One wrong move and she was in trouble. One wrong move and she would be dead

She slowly pulled the key down from where it hung and examined it. The cool, silver metal felt good against her skin. She dug the jagged pieces gently into her hand, feeling slight pain and reminded she had to be present. If she could just hold on a little longer she could find help.

As if reading her traitorous thoughts, the click of a gun being loaded sounded to the right of her. She went still and rigid. She didn’t dare look over to make eye contact with the man, but she could see the gun resting in his lap with his finger on the trigger from the corner of her eye.

“Don’t make me.” Was all he said. She didn’t want to make him. She closed her eyes and put the car into ignition. It roared to life and she could see the heat from the car turning to steam outside in the frigid air. She positioned her hands on the steering wheel, and with one last breath and one last glance at the gun, she slowly pressed her foot to the gas.

The car accelerated shakily, as she battled with the thin coating of sleet that covered the road. The world was brightening outside and just like the ice on the ground, she began to defrost. She was able to regain control of her senses as she focused on driving. She didn’t know where she was going, that was the point. But the man with the cigarette and the threatening gun still pointed at her would holler directions when she reached a junction.

“Left” he stated, with a small wave of his gun in that direction. After the first ten times he did that, she learned not to flinch because it made him look at her and the last thing she wanted now was a gunshot either on purpose or on accident.

She tried to examine the space around her, but the goddamn cigarette smoke was suffocating. Not once had the man next to her stopped smoking. It was drag after drag and puff after puff as he sat with his clunky boots up on the dashboard. She fought the edge not to tell him to take his feet down.

He was tall and handsome, from what she could make out from glances to her right and in the mirror positioned above her. He had a scruffy beard that was rugged and dark. His hair was dark chestnut brown, disheveled in a charming way. From what she noticed his teeth were straight and perfect, other than the cigarette staining that was already ruining his young appearance.

She wanted to throttle him, but she could appreciate his beauty.

Occasionally, she would hear a bumping or a cough from the back of the car. She stole glances backward through the mirror and found that there was a separation between the front two seats and the backseat. There was a thin mesh layer between the two, with a sliding door that could close the gap. She could barely make out the outlines of bodies in the back seats, and from what she could gather it was more men. Large shoulders, short hair. As much as she wanted to turn her head and look at them, she didn’t dare move a single body part out of driving position.

She shivered at the idea that she was in a car with only men. Men that, despite how much she hated to say it, were much more powerful than her. Not only because they had guns, but because they were bigger, stronger, and more merciless. They could and would hurt her without a doubt. The idea of “never hit a girl” had apparently gone out of style.

They called her a whore and a slut. She was mortified of their every movement, but even more afraid to move herself. Men had a way of wanting to be the alpha, and if you went against that, you were as good as dead. She peeled her eyes away from the mirror and focused back on the road.

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

More directions were barked at her as she slowly suffocated in the cigarette and testosterone-filled car. They drove through endless trees and roads of sleet for hours until they reached a small roadside grocery store. The day had escaped her and she found that the sun had already begun its descent back behind the earth.

The man to the right of her cracked the window and the car was flooded with the scent of sweet, fresh air. She was careful to take only small but deep breaths. If he knew she was enjoying it he would take it away.

Brightly colored signs bordered with led lights advertised “Beer From the Tap” and “Buy One Can, Get Drunk Free!”. Men sat outside at ugly, small silver tables and drank pitchers of beer the size of her head. Scratch that. Larger. They hollered and danced around, singing to country music that blared from the speakers of the store. Why there were drunk men buying beer from a grocery store and singing, she would never know. The cigarette man rolled down his window just a little bit more, enough for him to reach his hand out and give a curt wave to the others.

She could feel that he wanted desperately to join them dancing and drinking, but he refrained. If she could just get them as disoriented as the idiots she saw before her, she would have a chance to find help. Maybe she could be saved. They would watch her like hawks unless they had a reason not to, and this was the only chance.

Risking her life to do so, she made a small coughing sound to get his attention and nodded her head at the store. This was the smallest gesture she could make to explain she needed to take a piss. The man rolled his eyes and again flicked his gun upward in an overly dramatic manner. She gritted her teeth as to stop herself from flinching backward from him while she stayed looking in his direction.

He made an annoyed grunt, but flicked his eyes back to the men eagerly. She knew what he wanted, but he wasn’t going to spoil the act.

“Alright then,” He said through slightly gritted teeth. “We are going to need some food soon anyways boys.” He stated. He turned in his seat and knocked on the separation between the front and back. “Burgers, my brothers?” He hollered directly into her ear. The idea prompted hoots from the back as the men bustled to pick up their things. She fought the urge to grimace at their behavior.

They began piling out of the car, practically drooling at the idea of a cold beer. She wouldn’t have minded one herself. All she had eaten or drank in the past day were old granola bars and the men’s leftover water.

The process of getting out of the car was loud and long, the men murmured about what to do with her. The cigarette man stepped out of the car last, taking his gun with him. And for a moment, there was no longer a weapon trained on her. That was, until 30 seconds later her car door opened and the cool metal found its place once again on her temple.

“Come on, move it.” A new man barked. He was short, stout, and slightly disheveled. He had a scruffy beard covering the bottom half of his face and messy ginger-colored hair. He did not look menacing in the slightest; to her he looked more like a pig that found itself into a college frat.

She carefully stepped out of the car, keeping her hands glued to her sides and her head in the exact same place as it had been when the gun was placed. It saddened her to know how many times she has been in this position.

Once she was out of the car, it was apparent how small the man really was. She dwarfed him by at least a couple of inches, his head fell about where her long brunette hair ended, about at her armpits. She resisted the urge not to laugh because breaking a man’s ego was the worst offense as far as they were concerned. She saw him glance down at himself and then back to the men who gave him an emotionless nod. It all happened in less than a second, but she knew exactly how to read the men after being in their company for so long.

They weren’t elaborate creatures, her captors. They said things with their eyes normal people would just have the balls to say aloud. She understood them in a sick way.

Being born into a cult does that to someone.

The man led her towards the door of the shop, her hair brushing his head. She knew he was embarrassed by the whole scenario, but to be fair she wasn’t thrilled either. He slid the gun to the back of her neck to be a bit lower, just so he didn’t have to look as fucking ridiculous. A “No Firearms” sign was displayed in the shop window, along with advertisements for different beers and five-dollar wine. A tiny smile played on her lips. Tiny enough that the joy was mostly in her mind, not on her face. A no firearms sign meant a moment of freedom. She felt the gun be slowly lowered down her spine.

“Listen up,” The small man started, audibly trying to make his voice deeper, “You will go to the women’s bathroom and only there while we watch the door. You will handle your business and you will be escorted out by us.” He seemed pleased with the plan. He made a quick glance back at the men, all with the thought of “beer!” running through their minds, and subtly across their faces. She made a silent nod and opened the door. The men followed, the small man practically up her ass until she opened the women’s room door. The man glanced inside and then pushed her by the small of her back forward and through the door.

She turned, locked it, and let out a breath. Silent tears streamed from her eyes, but she had learned to work around them. The bathroom was small and dirty. The tiles on the floor were evidently once white, but now were covered in dirt. The cracks and crevices were black with the tracked-in mess. The toilet looked completely unappealing. It was grey and ancient, with the back taken off of it and plumbing exposed. She assumed it hadn’t been clean for years. Even the bottom of it seemed to be ripped slightly from the tiled floor, exposing ruble and ground underneath.

The sink sat directly next to it, almost equally grimy. A broken mirror hung above it, old and dusty. She looked at herself. She hadn’t seen herself in forever. One of the goals of the men seemed to be to take away her identity, and with it her will to object to what they told her. She bit her lip and faced herself. She didn’t recognize whoever was looking back. Where had she gone? And more importantly where the fuck was she going? Her eyes welled with tears and she forced herself to look away.

There were things that needed to be done. It began like clockwork. She ripped a piece of toilet paper off the roll and grabbed a pencil out of her disgusting leggings pocket.

“Simple, keep it simple…” She mumbled to herself. She scribbled furiously

“I am in the custody of The Brotherhood, that’s all I know.

I need desperate help.

I don’t know where they are taking me, but please contact the police.

With this, I leave the tag of my shirt that may be helpful as well as my fingerprints on this pencil.”

The letter satisfied and soothed her. It was simple enough that it could be helpful with her limited time. She had done something. There was the tiniest trace of hope. With that, she took off the ripped flannel that covered her arms and ripped the tag out. The men wouldn’t notice, half of the flannel seemed to be torn already. She hoped that the tag with its brand and place of making would be helpful if anyone ever found it. She also kept the far-off idea that they could scent track her with the fabric. She placed it on a section of the wall that had been taken out, a tile had fallen and made the perfect little shelf for the letter. She placed it all in perfect position and put a piece of destroyed tile over the fabric so it would stay in its location.

She had all the puzzle pieces laid out, all she needed was for someone to put them together. A small chuckle left her lips. When had her life become this depressing puzzle that needed to be solved?

She took a deep breath and forced everything out of her mind. She had become good at that, putting up a dam to at least block the raging thoughts. She tightened her face and walked to the sink, where a single bottle of febreeze sat. It was rose and cherry-scented; perfect. She sprayed an obnoxious amount of it in the bathroom. That should be enough to keep the men from coming in. Nothing like a girly scent to send their balls screaming back up into their bodies.

She took a deep breath in, satisfied with the disgustingly cloying scent, and spat on the floor as she kicked the door open.

[sillyrabbit81]

Her Heavy Cross

Summary: Three years after tragedy hits, Lana she decides to start dating again. She meets Will through a dating app and they begin an online romance. After months of constant requests, Lana relents and agrees to meet and go on an irl date with Will. But is Will who he says he is? Lana is quickly pulled into an intense relationship forcing her to confront her tragic past. Will Lana face it or will she close her heart forever?

Pairing: OMC x OFC

Word Count: approx 2.3k

Warnings: swearing

Authors Note: The story started as a Henry Cavill fanfiction but I changed it to be an original character, but shades of Henry are still there. Hope you enjoy the story and thanks for reading.

Part 15 Part 17

Part 16

Liam cooked us a chicken stir-fry with Asian vegetables for dinner. I was mildly surprised that he was such a good cook and told him so. He said he had to learn pretty quickly in the early days of his career when he would go months without a paying job.

"I was lucky. My parents were supportive, so I knew I wouldn't starve, and they would give me money if I asked. I didn't want to, though. I felt like if I had to ask for money, then I was a failure. It motivated me to go to more auditions, prepare better, take some classes to get more skills, perfect my accents."

I admired him for that. From what I knew about his family, they seemed to be wealthy. It would have been easy for him to rely on them while trying to make it.

Liam had told me a lot about his family. He was very close to his two brothers. It seemed like he was a bit of a mummies boy, and I supposed that comes from being the youngest. He seemed to credit his Dad for his love of stories and his desire to act.

"Have you told them about me? Your family, I mean." I asked a bit hesitantly, unsure how I'd feel if he said no.

I shouldn't have worried though, his huge smile said it all. "I told Mum about you over a month ago."

"We hadn't even met yet."

"I know," Liam sounded a bit bashful as he continued. "My Mum kept saying how happy I sounded. I kept dropping hints that she thought I was seeing someone. She's very good at reading me. She hounded me until I told her."

"What did she say?"

"She was surprised we hadn't met. I spoke to her during the week a few times and told her we'd met, and it went well, and we'd seen each other the whole weekend. It was a bit awkward like I said. She knows me too well. She said, 'You mean you spent the weekend shagging.'"

"Oh, my God!" I was so embarrassed. "What did you say? She's going to think I'm the town bike."

"She wasn't judging, by the way. She was worried about how you would react to me. She was happy because she felt like I shouldn't have used Simons photos."

"She's not wrong," I said.

"I know, I know. Do I have to apologise again?"

"No, just don't do it again."

He briefly grinned but then looked at me, his face and tone serious. "Hopefully, I'll never have to."

I didn't know how to respond to that. What did he even mean by that? I didn't ask. I wasn't sure if I wanted to know. I cleared my throat. "Is that all she said?" I asked, instead.

Liam opened his mouth and was about to say something before closing his mouth and trying again. "Well, then she saw the photos and stories about us. I tell her not to read that stuff because most of it is rubbish. But she does. Anyway, she said we looked lovely together and..." he paused before continuing. "And she can't wait to meet you in a few months. She's coming for a visit in late June early July for my two-week hiatus."

I almost asked what he was going to say, but I changed my mind. "What about your brothers? Your Dad?"

"Well, my Dad isn't much of a talker when it comes to relationships. But he did say Mum had shown him your picture and that you seemed like a nice girl. Other than that, he didn't comment. He rarely does unless he thinks someone isn't good for me."

"Is he coming with your mum?"

"Only for one week. My mum will stay for nearly three. My brothers well..." he grinned. "You know what brothers are like. We are rarely serious together. Also, we rarely call each other. We mostly keep in contact through group chats." His lip twitched as he said, 'there were a lot of ginger jokes this week."

I could only imagine what those chat logs contain. I rolled my eyes at the thought. "The bastards," I said.

Liam laughed then asked, "what about your family?"

"I haven't told them much. Dave knows a bit. I haven't told Mum anything." I shifted in my seat. "Dave knew I was seeing someone after I asked him to watch Perrin. But he didn't ask questions. Then on Friday, he found out it was you. He seemed ok with it." I brightened and said, "they will know all about you next week anyway."

Liam returned my smile.

After dinner, we went to bed. We both read for a while. Liam sat up with his back against the headboard while I laid on my back, using his chest as a pillow. I read until I fell asleep.

I grew to hate Sundays.

Sunday's meant my time with Liam was coming to a close. This Sunday had a silver lining because I would only have to wait until Thursday to see him again. This only partially comforted me because it was also the premiere. As the time drew closer, I knew I'd regret saying yes.

I sat with my head in my hands in the store's dressing room. Just picking which dresses to try on had been an ordeal. I had done a quick google search that morning to see what kind of dresses people wore to premieres, and it was almost no help. The range was too extensive. It seemed nearly anything was acceptable, from cocktail dresses to full-on evening wear.

Some articles made me feel sick, especially the articles about the actresses. So many articles talked about how many women found it hard to find dresses in their size because they were size 6 and too big to fit into most designers dresses. I checked out a size conversion chart and found that size 6 was a size 10 here. I was usually a size 10, but sometimes my arse needs a size 12.

I started thinking I was too fat. I kept thinking about my huge arse and thighs, which got me spiralling into thinking my breasts were too small, my hair was too frizzy, I had too many freckles, and I was too pale. The list of my faults just grew in my head until I was sure I'd end up at the premiere looking like a bush pig in a dress.

I started to breathe deeply, in through my nose, hold it, out through my mouth. After several breaths, I opened my eyes. I could do this. I picked up the first dress the assistant had helped me pick. She knew it wasn't going to wor. It was a loose short black lace dress with puffy sleeves that would make me look like the only shape I had was round. The other picks she made were dresses that looked like they were for the bride's grandmother. She also looked at Liam too many times for my liking. She was very helpful if you call taking us to dresses sold out in my size useful. Or if directing all her questions at Liam was helpful. I'll bet she's out there right now being helpful...

Fuck me dead! I think I'm jealous.

That was an emotion I hadn't felt in a while, and I didn't like it. Fuck that. I don't need to be jealous. I picked through the dresses until I found the one I already knew would be the winner.

It was from Australian designer Maticevski. The gown was black with a high neckline, and the beautiful fabric gathered on the left shoulder. The dress was pulled from the hips and cinched in the waist. It had a thigh-high split, revealing just enough skin to be sexy and a small but elegant train. I loved it the moment I saw it and knew I wanted it. But it was $2,500. I loved it so much I almost didn't care. I mean, I knew I wasn't the one people cared about. They wanted to see Liam. This time was different because it would be our first official event together, and the story right now was who was he dating. This time I would get attention. But I still thought it was too much money. I had almost put it back, but the assistant smirked. Liam, bless him, took it out of my hands and said he would love to see it on me.

I wriggled my way into the dress and looked into the mirror. It was the winner for sure. I had brought my heels from Friday night to try the dress on with, and though they weren't quite right for the dress, they gave a good idea of what I would look like. It was slightly too tight around the hips and too a little big on the top. I could get it altered, though. It wouldn't take much. Maybe even a bra with a bit of padding would fix it. I flipped my hair to give it some bounce and a sexy 'just been fucked' look and stepped out.

I was right. She was hitting on Liam hard. I wanted to punch her in the face. But then Liam saw me, and the way he looked at me made me forgot about her. I took a few steps over to him and posed in an over the top way.

"What do you think?" I asked Liam.

He didn't say anything, but his eyes did. He had the same look when he approached me on Friday night. This is definitely the dress.

"It's not too dressed up? I could try something else if you think it's too much." I said to Liam.

"It doesn't quite fit. Perhaps the..." the assistant didn't get time to finish before Liam spoke.

"No." He said firmly, cutting her off. He cleared his throat and approached me. "It's absolutely perfect." He kissed me, and his lips were so soft. He ran his hands over my waist and stood back, looking me up and down. "Perfect. We will take it."

"You don't want to try..." the assistant tried again.

Liam didn't even look at her. "I said we would take it. The other dresses can go back. Thank you for your help." I loved it when he spoke in that authoritative tone, which made me weak.

She went into the dressing room and took away the ten other dresses I was going to try. I wasn't sad to see them go, none of them would be as good as this, but I still wasn't sure.

"I can try another dress. I mean, this one is stupid expensive."

"I don't care if it was a hundred thousand dollars, you look amazing, and you like it, so you will have it."

"I just don't know if I can afford to spend money like this for one night."

"I invited you. I'm paying."

"Fuck. I should have said I need matching earrings." I joked.

"Do you?" He asked, sincere.

"No, don't be silly. Shoes and a handbag will do. I'll buy the shoes you buy the bag. Deal?"

"Nope." He was shaking his head, "I want to get everything for you. Think of it as an Easter present."

"I can afford to buy things for myself, you know. I make pretty good money considering I own my house, and I only have to take care of myself and Perrin."

"I know." Liam ran his fingers through his hair. "Call me a misogynist if you want, but I want to buy you things, pretty things, things you'd never buy yourself. I want to take care of you."

I decided to let it go. I didn't think it's misogynistic to want to buy your girlfriend a present. It's misogynistic if you think you own her because you chose to buy her things. And it did feel nice to have him want to buy me pretty things.

"Ok, Liam," I said.

His smile came back. "Good. Get changed, and let's buy you some shoes." His lip twitched. "Do you need help taking it off?"

"Get out of it." I laughed and got changed.

When I had come out, he wasn't waiting for me. I looked around and couldn't find him in the shoes or the bags. A thought came to me. I hated that I thought it, but I wondered if the shop assistants come on had worked. I didn't believe it, not really, but once the thought was there, it wouldn't leave.

I didn't want to, but I looked for the shop assistant. As I looked, I felt sick from fear and disgust with myself. I found her putting away the dresses from the dressing room, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I hated myself. I wasn't usually like this. It wasn't fair on Liam either. He had given me no reason to suspect him at all.

Then I started to panic. My breath came out shallow and rapid. I felt smothered. There were no windows, and I needed to get out. There were too many people.

I felt warm hands slide under my t-shirt and rest on my belly.

I jumped and spun around. It was Liam. "Ready for shoes, Sweetheart?" He asked.

"Where were you? I looked everywhere."

"I went down to menswear real quick," Liam said. "Now that I know what you're going to wear, I know what I'm going to wear, and I needed a new shirt. It took longer than I thought."

"No worries. I just, I didn't know, it's ok."

"You ok?"

I nodded. "Let's go."

Part 17