#this took too long cause i was hung up on details that get cropped out anyway in the meme lol

[roseseatea]

Sixfanarts but its rain code ocs~ Ty for the requests!!

From top left, going clockwise:

Luna Luckytune - Mine

Ikaro Jasper - @cr4zedf0x

Darling Lunamune - @rindragon-from-twewy

Haru Allegro - @wist-eri

Kuro Starling - @kawaiiwaifu-theartist

Sullivan Crevanox - @sasarasmeloncreamsoda

[say-narry]

Note: english isn’t my first language. Hope you all like it. Please, give me your opinion with a reblog, fav or a note in my askbox.

summary: She did a good work with H. Lambert and now, reader is the new Harry's stylish. Mr. Harry Styles need more than clothing creations from her.

Pairings: Harry Styles!famous x Reader!stylist

warnings: insinuations, dirt talk, explicit sex, old Harry's band members mention and more.

talk with me | masterlist

never have i ever

Guess who is the new stylish of the famous Harry Styles' band? It's me! After studying and specializing in fashion, my day of glory had arrived!

The pandemic had passed, Harry Styles was back on tour, and Harry Lambert had suffered a domestic accident where he fractured his ankle. I had been an intern at his agency and one thing led to another.

Everyone was very kind, nice despite being shy... Ah, Englishmen... Because I had joined the team, we decided to celebrate my admission and the return to tour at Harry's house.

I put on a black outfit with lace, it was my favorite kind of outfit because it fulfilled something sexy and comfortable, perfect for a more casual evening.

"But what's up, did you like the guys?" Sarah Jones asked close to my ear, she was already on her 3rd glass of drink in less than half an hour.

"Everyone is very nice and welcoming" I flashed a smile after repeating the action near her ear.

Sarah gave a thumbs up and turned the straw of the clear drink back to her mouth. Mitch was already high, he and Harry were dancing on a makeshift dance floor.

Harry was wearing a white printed shirt and dark bell-bottomed pants with some spikes on the side. His exotic style would give me a hard time, but I was up for the challenge.

I continued to sit in the armchair in her huge garden, hour I would go to the little bar and flirt with the muscular blond man making drinks.

"Stylist!" Harry shouted raising his arms, I cringed nervously. Not for the moment, but he was making me nervous.

"Boss!" I giggled and turned to him, also raising my arms entering his.

Harry's mansion was the opposite of what I had imagined, it was something more minimalist with the exception of the bright pink staircase, it was in shades of black, white and gray.

There was pleasant music in the background, everyone from the production was spread out in the garden with some armchairs in the colors I mentioned before.

"I wanted to say something about the outfit for tomorrow's show." Harry said scratching the back of his head next, if I trusted my super powers of distrust, he was lying and flirting with me.

I smiled dull and agreed "Anytime" I smiled drinking some of the juice I had picked up.

🎵🎵🎵🎵

"I think I could tighten up the cuffs a little more, what do you think?" Harry commented. We were in Harry's huge closet, he on a stool standing even taller than me as I examined the outfit.

It was a black and white striped suit with some gold details, it fit his body very well, Lambert and I had designed it and got it right.

"You need to see about the fit, because you stretch your arms out to play the guitar and do your little dances..." I commented unpretentiously, Harry stared at me with a sideways grin.

"You're absolutely right, (Y/N)..." He started to unbutton his suit, I arched my eyebrows feeling my cheeks heat up, I turned around putting away the tape measure that was around my neck. "I really like your outfit, especially the lace, it suits your skin tone." I heard Harry behind me and the sounds of the clothes being thrown onto the couch nearby.

"Thanks, it's my favorite kind of outfit." I commented closing the little box, I turned my body around and Harry was standing in front of me, wearing nothing but black boxer shorts and his tattoos showing.

He was totally gorgeous, his eyes sparkling, his body all designed and his fingers being adorned by rings was something that turned me on.

"It's become mine too..." Harry threw the words out before moving closer stealing a kiss.

Having the dream job and kissing Harry Styles? Was that a dream?

Because of our height difference, I lifted my body on my tiptoes and passed my arms around his neck, I felt his hands pulling me tighter against his body that emanated a pleasant warmth.

His fingers trailed down my spine, reaching the straps of my lacy cropedd, his lips still sucking mine with all the affection in the world, I pulled his gently leaving a few small bites.

"Come with me, babe" He pulled me through a door, which led directly into his huge gray room

Without delay, my body was lying on the huge soft king size bed and his body on top of mine. I could feel his covered member slapping against my thigh, Harry let out a few grunts that made me shiver.

"I've wanted you since the day Lambert introduced you..." Harry was distributing kisses down my neck, hourly running the tip of his tongue across it. I crossed my legs around his waist and felt him pressing his member between my legs. It was warm and wet.

Soon, Harry pulled, with a little difficulty, my white cropped top up, leaving my breasts showing. Shame was eating away at me, but his pupils had dilated, giving me the expression of a hunter.

Still staring at me, Harry ran the tip of his tongue over my nipple and then grabbed my left breast and sucked on it.

Fuck!

My body was almost on fire, I could feel my panties getting wet as I moved my legs. By the hour, I was stroking his curls, closing my eyes for his sucking and biting my lips.

"I won't be able to take much longer, babe," Harry commented leaving me with a kiss, soon his fingers were on the belt of my pants that had been thrown along with it on the floor of his room.

Harry's excitement was evident, but looking at his underwear made me long for him like never before. He stood in front of me, he ran to a cupboard behind him and came up with packets of condoms.

Yes, plural.

And with that, his boxer shorts were flying across the room, his cock bouncing with the tip facing up, it was glowing from the liquid of arousal. How I would like to suck him and taste him, but apparently his plans were to satisfy this desire.

I took off my white lace panties with a little difficulty since I was not thinking very well, considering that someone might miss us and he might be my boss somehow.

I held my panties up and soon Harry practically flew on top of me, his hot swollen tip was rubbing up and down my folds. We both let out guttural moans at the sensation.

"Oh God, (Y/N), you're soaking wet...all for me?" he whimpered, his hands digging into the mattress on either side of my head.

Before I could reason out a convenient response, Harry had put on a condom and was already partially inside my cavity.

It was surreal to feel his cock stretching inside me, a sensation I had never felt before. He was really good in bed, nothing compared to the college guys. He was gentle as he tried to go a little further, his throat let out delicious moans that I could listen to forever.

I moaned as he reached bottom, my legs again around his waist, begging him to go even deeper.

"All right, babe? You're fucking tight and hot!" He whispered, placing a kiss on each side of my cheeks.

"Yes!" I almost choked, "Please, H. It feels so good!"

Harry let out a small giggle, I felt his member pull out of me a little before entering again and again and again.

My moans became a little more audible as they blended with the sounds of our skins slapping against each other. With each thrust from Harry, his member was able to reach an undiscovered location that made my head spin and involuntary smiles formed on my lips.

It was all too splendid to be real. I forced myself to open my eyes and I just had the sight of heaven, Harry's mouth was ajar, his pink lips hung open in a perfect "O," shaggy curls framing his face. His bright eyes pierced yours with such love and admiration that it was almost irresistible.

For a small moment of courage, I put my hands on his face and pulled him into a kiss, Harry's lips were addictive. He reciprocated with more desire than I could imagine, his tongue filling my lips eagerly. His hips still bumped against mine, at times I squeezed him internally and felt Harry's arms waver.

With each thrust, which became faster and faster, my body's movements clamored harder and harder for him, making me pull him deeper inside me. His member kept slamming into that special place, eliciting the only moans of real pleasure from me. I wouldn't last long, and Harry knew it. Harry kept ripping compliments about me and my body "I want to have you all night, baby..." He would say so that only I could hear "So hot, so perfect, I want you so bad..."

I didn't know how to respond, so I just grabbed his hair tighter, pulling making him thrust harder against me, being fierce and relentless.

All my mind and body wanted was for this night to never end, and so did the sensations it caused.

I rolled over as hard as I could and it seemed that Harry had gone deeper, his moans became longer, he had picked up momentum by pulling the sheets off the bed and sinking his feet into it, I would be limp by tomorrow, but it would be worth it.

A trembling began to take over me, the butterflies in my stomach took a long walk there, my toes had curved, the liberating feeling was coming. My hands, which before scratched his back, went back to his scalp, which I pulled with each shock that passed through there.

I could feel Harry shivering too, my walls involuntarily tightened around his member, which made Harry face me and leave a hickey on my neck. "Come with me babe, I know you're almost there, let go..."

And that was all it took, I felt the euphoric feeling taking over my body quickly, the roller coaster descending, the chill in my stomach encompassing. I twisted my body on the bed, arching my spine and biting my lip. I shivered quickly and my legs fell open to my sides, Harry launched three more thrusts and lay over my body moaning into mine hearing a long delicious "Oooh". I could feel his cock thickening inside the condom and his hips working for the last few times.

🎵🎵🎵🎵

A month after our historic fuck, Harry and I had not exchanged another word. It had been a fuck, period. No one needed to know anything about it, nor did we need to prolong it.

I was sketching Harry's outfit for the next week, the tour was already in North America. I remember that the outfit that Harry had worn after that night, during the show, got me a notice in the newspapers and a call for Gucci. Yes, Gucci had called me, but I couldn't leave the team now, so they gave me the responsibility of designing the next suit that Harry would wear for their shoe promo, because according to them, I knew Harry from head to toe.

And I really did.

It was late at night, I was in my hotel room, until Mitch called me to a meeting in the private area.

There were the guys from the band, Jeff and Harry. I sat down next to Jeff and we started talking, I felt Harry looking at me while Mitch stroked his head that was lying on his shoulder.

I decided to just ignore it because it might be me. Jeff and I saw that we have some friends in common on Instagram, which sparked the conversation.

"I remember Natalie came out loaded when we played 'Never have I ever' , she was quiet of the group but had done things..." Jeff blinked putting away his laptop on a small table next to the couch.

"There you go, I think we should play!" Sarah pronounced and everyone nodded and I felt my hands sweat. I always got screwed in this game.

Jeff's assistant brought a bottle of Wiskey, we sat down on the rug in the room and Mitch picked up a bottle he had used.

Harry was on the opposite side from me, set up was me, Jeff on my right, Peter his assistant, Adam, Charlottie, Harry, Sarah and Mitch.

Peter had handed out cups and opened the huge bottle of whiskey.

I had taken only one which was from "I never had sex in college," until Mitch asked the crucial question.

"I've never had sex with anyone on the team!" He and Sarah toasted, drawing laughs from everyone, and Harry turned the liquid over in one gulp.

No, I wasn't going to throw it all away, not now and not ever. I crossed my legs and continued to hold the glass of liquid. I looked everywhere but at Harry, who was waiting for me to drink.

"Spin the bottle, Adam!" I suggested and the question mark in everyone's expression fell apart to form an exclamation point.

They knew now.

🎵🎵🎵🎵

The bottle game lasted three more rounds, Harry said he needed to rest and wished everyone a good night by shaking hands, except me.

Damned Aquarian.

I waited a bit and went after him as soon as he did, I ran to the elevator and up to the presidential suite. Harry was walking with his hands in the pockets of his black sweatpants and his jacket also black.

"Hazz..." I jogged down the long hallway and he even looked at me, swiping the card on his door opening it.

"What is it, (Y/N)?" A little breathless, I stopped at his door and he was staring at me now "After a month you decided to talk to me alone?"

Harry left the door open, and I entered the room and closed it. He had sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers intertwined and his legs spread.

"I thought it was all right!" I started in a mild tone, I didn't know how he would react. "You know Harry, I am a person who works for you, that was wrong!" I sighed moving closer "It was wrong for me and for you!"

His eyebrows frowned and he let out a sarcastic laugh "I know what's wrong or right, (Y/N), you don't have to tell me that." He shook his head scratching his chin "I could have sworn sneaking out after mind-blowing sex like that was a guy thing, but you've outdone yourself!"

My heart was beating fast, Harry had never been rude to anyone in front of me, I had been the first and it was scary.

"Was that right for you? I barely made the team and I'm already in your bed! Understand my side, Harry! I may have broken the contract or whatever!" I started pacing back and forth trying to explain myself.

"It was right yes, because after a while I felt something good besides some orgasm, I put all my emotions and feelings there because I thought you were different, you were the woman of my dreams! But I was very wrong, definitely!" Harry stood up and approached me "Do you really think I would let someone fire you for that? It was something concensual! I wanted you from the moment I saw you with Lambert! Everyone on my team knows my every quirk, they know I was and still am in love with you!" Harry shouted in his English accent, he wanted to kill me.

"You know what? Fuck you and your little story! If you wanted something, you'd fake it with me and not expose it to everyone on the team!" I roared in anger and walked out slamming the door to his room.

🎵🎵🎵🎵

I couldn't sleep a wink and it was after four o'clock in the morning. Harry's words were rattling around in my head, was he really feeling something for me? It hadn't been a one-night thing? But he should have said something! I am no guesser!

Already in bed, I decided to put on a podcast to go to sleep, but as soon as I unplugged my cell phone from the charger, Harry's name flashed on the screen in a call.

I rolled my eyes and rejected the call.

I plugged in my headphones and put on the Spotify podcast, but in less than 30 seconds it was interrupted.

I took a deep breath and accepted the call.

"What is it Harry?" I asked removing my headphones and placing the cell phone close to my face.

"Babe, I need you." I heard his mellifluous voice. "You weren't wrong, I couldn't have done that, but I swear, I swear..." he repeated emphasizing, which was normal since he probably started drinking again after I left his room "That I imagined you would flip that shot and I would kiss you in front of everyone like I've been dreaming about for the last thirty days..." Harry sobbed and I felt slightly guilty, he imagined it would be a movie scene...

"Harry..." I got out of bed and pulled on my robe "You should have sat down and talked to me, I'm not like them, I know how to talk and get a yes or no." I tied the robe around my waist, walked to the door and unlocked it.

In front of me was a teary-eyed Harry, his face flushed with a beak. "Forgive me! Can we talk?"

"Later." I pulled him into my room.

Within minutes, I had him pinned to me by jumping into his lap, Harry sat on the bed and pressed my waist against his.

"I'm going to tell everyone you're mine!" He growled slowly biting my neck and jaw.

My hands and his worked together, Harry sat in the middle of the bed right after putting on a condom, I sat naked on his lap feeling his cock slowly entering me, I loved him and wanted him too, I wished he would be fast and strong like last time.

"Faster, Hazz," I moaned, my eyes rolling back as my nails slid up Harry's arms and down the back of his neck and back.

His head was propped between my breasts as he kept up the effort to go deep, burying his cock in me in more violent strokes.

On an impulse, Harry laid me down on the bed, his right arm supporting his body while the other was pulling his member out of me, rubbing the swollen head against my slippery spot. He knew how to tease me very well.

"Oh, (Y/N)... I've dreamed every night of this pussy!" he murmured "Of my cock drowning in it, taking all your sanity, leaving you only pleasure!"

His hand landed on my thigh and he changed the angle of his thrusts, making a pornographic moan come from my lips.

He had done it again.

"Is this the spot, baby?" he asked, his voice deep as he concentrated on hitting that spot over and over again, the pleasure was overwhelming and all I could do was nod, encouraging Harry to continue.

"I love having you like this, love." Harry moaned, looking up into my face in complete pleasure with each thrust he launched.

His cock was reaching places inside me I never knew existed and points I never knew could cause so much pleasure.

Like last time, my body shook a little harder and more deliciously, as Harry said the word 'mine' with each thrust, ending our reconciliation sex.

Harry had his body on top of mine, my legs still entwined around his waist, my heart was pounding hard, my breathing ragged, and a giant fatigue falling over me.

"Babe?" Harry called out to me and I just shook my head with my eyes closed. "You'll need to have two glasses of wiskey."

He left a kiss on each of my breasts, I pulled his face to me giving him a lingering kiss, I opened my eyes and stared into his "I'll take a whole bottle if I have to."

I loved Harry's smile, but I loved Harry's post fuck smile even more.

talk with me | masterlist

[thesleepiesthufflepuff]

Nothing More Than That

When Harry woke, the world was silent, the earth covered in a fresh layer of snow. Pale overcast light fell in through the crack in his curtains, highlighting small particles of dust floating through the still air. A blanket of coldness hung over the bedroom, sinking into Harry’s hands and seeping into his spine, and he burrowed further under the covers.

That is, until he remembered that it was New Year’s Day, and New Year’s Day meant going over to the Burrow for a grand lunch that Molly had poured her blood, sweat, and tears into.

With a heavy groan, Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes. After a moment he reached over to his nightstand, grabbed his wand, and lazily cast Tempus. Blue numbers appeared in the air, glowing against the early morning light, and revealed that it was eight o’clock. Rolling his eyes in annoyance, he peeled back his duvet and slid out of bed, the soles of his feet meeting the icy wooden floor. He padded to the bathroom, relieving himself before wandering to his wardrobe and exchanging his pajamas for a pair of fitted black jeans, a light pink cable knit jumper that complimented his golden brown skin, and canvas high-tops.

Once dressed, he ran a comb through his hair, although his black waves still sat at odd, unusual angles. After a minute or two he gave up, spraying himself with eucalyptus and pine aftershave. Then, giving himself a final once-over, he felt reasonably content and headed in the direction of the kitchen.

He sat in a stupor and drank coffee while the porridge cooked, occasionally casting a glance at the clock hanging on the wall to make sure that he was alright for time. By nine o’clock, he’d chucked on his coat and a matching set of a grey scarf, gloves, and a beanie that Molly had knitted for him several years ago. Then, stuffing his keys and wallet into his satchel, he headed out the door of his flat, down the stairs of the building, and out into the brisk morning.

The sky was heavy with dark clouds, threatening to unleash a new flurry of snow and slush at any moment. This caused Harry to frown, a deep crease settling in between his eyebrows as he made his way towards the nearest Tube station. The path was slick and wet with snow that had fallen overnight, and his shoes were already soaked and uncomfortable. Silently, Harry thanked himself for having been reasonable and putting on a second pair of wool socks over his first.

After hopping on his train, he arrived at his stop thirty minutes later. Weaving his way in between clusters of people on the platform, he made his way up the stairs and onto the street, turning right. Down the road a little ways, he could make out a wooden sign jutting out from one of the shops up ahead, reading Rosemary’s Garden in faded, light green print. He let out a sigh of relief, having found it.

Walking into the shop, he was immediately hit with the sweet, aromatic smell of roses. The right wall was made up of a refrigerator, which was filled to the brim with a variety of flowers. Harry recognized a few, such as baby’s breath, gardenias, and lilies. The rest of the shop was filled with premade floral arrangements and bouquet accessories, all looking rather attractive in the silver light that fell through the broad front window.

Harry looked to the till counter, but there wasn’t a shop employee in sight. However, there was a silver bell sitting on the countertop, which he diligently rang, the tinny sound echoing throughout the shop. He heard shuffling in what must have been the back room, and then a figure all too familiar emerged.

Draco sodding Malfoy. He looked better than he had the last time Harry had seen him, which had been at his trial seven years ago. Malfoy had looked worn then, his skin sallow and taut and a dull look in his pewter colored eyes. Now, though, there was a light about him, as though someone had flipped a switch. His soft, ashy blond hair was cropped just above his ears, shorter than it had been, and the frown lines that had riddled his face were now faded.

As Harry stared at him, he realized with quite a horrible shock that Malfoy was … fit.

Malfoy awkwardly cleared his throat, moving to his position behind the counter. He was clad in a charcoal colored turtleneck and, Harry was quite startled to see, blue jeans. On top of the turtleneck laid a forest green apron with the shop’s name embroidered in loopy gold letters on the chest.

“Potter?” Malfoy asked hesitantly, his voice breaking the deafening silence.

“I―” Harry began, his tongue suddenly feeling dry and far too large, “I didn’t know you worked here. Why … why do you work here?”

“Well,” Malfoy said, his voice weary, “I didn’t exactly have a choice, did I? With the wizarding world casting me into exile, and all.”

Harry was taken aback at his bluntness, and he recoiled slightly. “That makes sense. Do you … like flowers?”

The corners of Malfoy’s mouth turned upwards slightly. “I suppose.”

“Right,” Harry said nervously, looking anywhere but at Malfoy. “Well, I’d like to buy a bouquet of flowers.”

“That’s a bit … generic,” Malfoy said flatly. “Could you be more specific? Type of flower? Size?”

“Oh. Um, well, Molly likes zinnias. Dahlias too, I think. And nothing too fancy. She wouldn’t want that,” Harry said.

“Would you mind if I put some eucalyptus and baby’s breath in the bouquet? Just to break up the dahlias and zinnias,” Malfoy asked.

Harry shrugged. “You’re the florist.”

He swore he could see Malfoy smirk as he set about putting the bouquet together. Meanwhile, Harry wandered around the shop, putting all of his frazzled energy into admiring the different flora.

Ten minutes later, the bouquet was ready. It was filled with bright orange and pink flowers, which paired nicely with the paleness of the eucalyptus leaves and baby’s breath. A cream satin ribbon had been tied neatly around the stems, which were held in place by a plastic bouquet covering. It looked right up Molly’s alley, which made Harry feel thrilled.

“It’s perfect. Thank you,” Harry said, digging out his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

“Sixty pounds even.”

Harry sucked in a sharp breath, not having expected such a steep price, but paid it nonetheless. He’d pay anything to see the smile that he knew would appear on Molly’s face when she saw the bouquet.

As Malfoy printed the receipt, he looked up, an amused look on his face. “So, I saw in the Daily Prophet that you’ve come out as bisexual. Is it true?”

Harry, after briefly choking on his spit, let out a surprised laugh. “Yes. Why?”

“Just wondering,” Malfoy said, handing the receipt to Harry. “I’m gay.”

“Oh,” Harry said lamely, his mind churning. “In that case, how would you feel about dinner sometime this week?”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “As in … a date?”

Harry nodded curtly. “A date. You’re rather fit, you know.”

The tips of Malfoy’s ears grew a steady pink, and he shot Harry a soft smile. “You’re not too bad yourself, Potter. Dinner sounds lovely.”

Harry could feel his cheeks burning as he took the bouquet. “Well, thanks for the flowers. Oh, and are you still living at the Manor?”

Draco nodded.

“I’ll send a letter your way with the dinner details,” Harry said, his stomach a mess of nerves and excitement as he wandered towards the door. “Happy New Year’s, by the way.”

Draco grinned, offering him a small wave. “Happy New Year’s, Potter.”

As Harry emerged back onto the bustling path, he thought about how he would have the opportunity to get to know who Malfoy was now, their schoolboy days long forgotten. He wanted nothing more than that.

[deitiesofduat]

BASTET: “As it turns out, the project has been due for this type of update for some time -- which the artist @tenicola​ (aka @teninini, colacanvas, and "Teni") finally got around to, after having enough headspace to approach it. 

“And just to avoid worrying anyone seeing this -- nope, Teni is not dropping DEITIES project anytime soon. She's not going anywhere, and neither am I! Or the rest of my pantheon! 

“But Teni mentioned she was worried about projecting that outcome, due to how inactive she's been online, and how quiet she's been about progress. She's hoping this update can add some clarity on what's actually going on, and what to expect going forward.”

“The rest of this update is below the cut, as text mixed with panels. It's on the long-ish side, and while it's best to skim through everything for context, you can also skip to the section "SHIFT IN [PUBLIC] SCOPE" if you just want to get to the point.

“Without further ago, let's start with some history that Teni wanted to share for full context -- again, under the cut!”

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

[ HISTORY OF DEITIES PROJECT ]

BASTET: “DEITIES Project -- and the main story for said project (Deities of Duat: The Chaos Seal), which is intended as a long form webcomic -- has been in development, privately and offline, since late 2014. Teni meant to keep it private for as long as possible, until she felt “ready” to share it.

“However, she was motivated to take the plunge and reveal the project's existence with these color tests and with this comic, as part of her coursework for her visual storytelling class. You know the one…”

“The surge of encouragement from both her classmates and her followers motivated Teni to create this blog -- the one you're visiting right now! It was Teni's full intention to use this blog to share progress on the main story, as a full-length webcomic, while building and engaging her audience.”

“However, along the way were a few... unforeseen obstacles that reared their head. Some obstacles were mitigated by making steady updates to the story and blog, but some were much more challenging, and she thinks it only fair to disclose some of them for context...”

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

[ OBSTACLES OF LIFE ]

BASTET: “The first obstacle was the sudden onset of chronic lower back pain -- just before the launch of the DEITIES blog in 2016. She still has it to this day, and says this ache makes it unbearable to sit or stand in the same position for too long. Among several inconveniences this causes, it also means she can only draw in short bursts before her stamina taps out, or before needing pain relief -- like heat, ice, and pressure.”

“As you might imagine, it's not the most fun condition to have when you enjoy drawing! And it's taken a while for Teni to cope with this daily frustration. She's still planning to find answers and a treatment to help reduce it, but has also accepted that she's been dealt this hand -- not unlike other creatives that deal with some form of chronic pain.”

“The back pain was one obstacle, but having to deal with different interpersonal struggles and friction was another. Some spiked her usual feelings of anxiety, and in one relationship's case, made her question whether or not the project was worth continuing. (On that note -- Teni does not want to call out anyone or guilt them, she just wanted to bring it up as a factor for the larger point she's making — just bear with us!)

“The third big obstacle a few years back, was having a day job that had an... ‘unfriendly’ work environment, and was paying a lot less income than she fairly deserved. And near the beginning of 2018, she was laid off from said job, putting a halt to any income she was earning only a week after signing the lease to her first apartment!”

“Teni didn't go into detail about those months of job hunting and taking tech classes, though she explains bits of it in previous updates. But the lack of financial stability at the time hung over her head constantly. The way she put it was: ‘It was hard to motivate myself to indulge in something I loved, but that didn't provide income, while I was in the middle of an extended job hunt.’"

“She didn't expect all these obstacles in succession when she launched the project. And she admits that she felt a combination of frustration, impatience, and disappointment for not updating the project at the same pace she started.”

“This was not because of any pressure from followers -- she told me you all have been incredibly understanding and patient! It was because of the fact that the project had been publicly promoted for so long, and she set her own expectations and goals so high -- without factoring the likelihood of life getting in the way. There was also the lingering fear of disappointing a lot of people, if one day she had no choice but to stop the project for her own livelihood and health.”

“Ah, why am I adding to this creative angst -- Teni didn't want this to be a sob story! I'll move on haha.”

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

[ IN A BETTER PLACE ]

BASTET: “Thankfully, in spite of all those obstacles, things are turning around for Teni in this new decade. A year ago she found a job with a feasible income to support herself, and an overall healthy work environment within her team. She's also fostered healthier relationships with her family and friends, and even made closer connections with the best friends she's had for ages!”

“And while her back pain is… still there, it's a manageable part of life that she's still determined to find answers for and improve.

“Not to mention that in the past year, she's been able to work on other projects, more quietly, and indulge in drawing other characters and fanart for fun. She's consumed more of her favorite media in the interim as well to support others, and to sate her own curiosity and interests.”

“Moving on to how this relates to this update, now that we have some backdrop for what's been happening...”

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

[ AREAS OF INTEREST ]

BASTET: “Again, Teni is not dropping DEITIES Project -- she admits the fear of having to make that call had crossed her mind, but it's not something she thinks she'll need to reconsider right now. Her bigger concern has been how to approach this project publicly, moving forward. And after giving it some thought, she's made some observations that may shed light on this answer.

“Teni wanted me to emphasize the idea of her doing a ‘reset’ for the public presentation and development of DEITIES Project -- not to change or hide the development thus far, but to reframe the project's scope -- what it's focus and goals are, more or less.

“...Oh-- looks like she made some visuals to help with this -- you two mind lending me a hand?”

“You all might have figured it out by now, but Teni absolutely loves drawing character art and designs. She also likes panel-style comics, as well as the dialogue, expressions, and SFX that comes with it. She can work on them offline without prompting, but she also loves sharing what she comes up with!

“What she's less fond of sharing is some of the other... *ahem* unmentionables and time-consuming work that comes with traditional comics. Things that take hours to set up and hours to practice, let alone execute for the final product -- an unfortunate hurdle when you're a one-person production team, and you can only draw in small bursts at a time.”

“She initially tried to put off the more indulgent art that she liked, in order to focus the less-favored obligations... but she realized that this just made her feel demotivated to work on anything, and less got completed as a result.”

“Overall, Teni's coming to terms with both her own limitations and her personal drive, and wants to shift her priorities accordingly for the project -- even if it goes against the grain of what's considered ‘good’  or well-meaning advice for a personal project.”

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

[ SHIFT IN [PUBLIC] SCOPE ]

BASTET: “Instead of treating the DEITIES main story/comic as the ‘end game’ goal of this project -- and pouring all her available energy in preparing for it and hyping it up -- Teni wants to shift the main story as a future, and more private ambition, until she's in a better place to execute it and share it publicly.

“No, she does not have any estimate or TBD date for when this will be, or when she'll make public updates on it’s progress or launch. It may even remain private indefinitely. And for now, she's okay with this.

“Because (1) The main story "The Chaos Seal" is not the only story that's worth telling from this project. Smaller side- and backstories, and even small character interactions, have their merit as well -- something Teni learned from drawing askbox responses, completing memes with the cast, and character exploration with friends. And with the main story not sucking up all the oxygen, she thinks it'll leave room to tackle the others more easily -- whether they're planned ahead of time or are spur-of-the-moment, and as comics or different formats.

“(2) Removing the DEITIES main story from its public pedestal will also allow her to work on other non-DEITIES things as they crop up -- and with less irrational guilt to indulge in things that aren't ‘priority’ for completing the comic. Meaning more art of her original characters, fanart, giftart, collabs, memes and bandwagons, and other smaller projects. Heck, she might even give herself permission to relax.

“And (3), perhaps most importantly -- Teni realized that DEITIES Project shouldn’t have to start and end with the so-called main story, and placing the story aside wouldn’t mean the project suddenly becomes a waste of time -- as she originally worried about projecting when her life took a twist.

“DEITIES Project just… is. It already exists, and the characters and world already exist -- with or without a completed webcomic to validate that existence.”

“But anyway, I side-tracked. The point is, Teni's planning to shift DEITIES project to just that -- a project, with room to continually grow, explore, and experiment with, and to engage with others as she feels comfortable, without the pressure of having a giant epic to tell.

“So while the main story and comic is going to shift to something more gradual and private -- the way it was originally meant to be -- this shift in scope will help adjust the project’s longevity, and also set the stage for some changes to be made around the blog, and for the public presentation for DEITIES.” 

“However, that content will be less scheduled and remain sporadic -- things will ‘happen when they happen,’ but what Teni has in mind will hopefully be enjoyable for those following the project.”

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

[ WHAT'S NEXT-- ]

BASTET: “Here’s the thing: we actually had more to share, but Teni made the call to save it all for another day -- to avoid making this update longer than needed, and to also avoid announcing any plans prematurely. No need to risk building pressure all over again or burning out, right?

“She asks for everyone’s patience and to give her another few weeks to re-calibrate things, address pressing questions, and work on some overdue housekeeping on the blog -- and to just draw whatever pops to her mind, cuz hey, why not? After that, she'll wait until any project items are already in the works and on the road to completion, before she announces that they're coming -- an ‘under-promise but over-deliver’ approach.

“But one thing you can look forward to are more featured deities from the main cast and the supporting cast -- including those colors tests she's been working on since last year, and then some! There's no shortage of inspiration or fodder, so to speak.”

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

[ IN CONCLUSION ]

BASTET: “So to recap! DEITIES Project will be shifting its scope and priorities, so that the main story and comic is developed more privately, and more characters and lore will be explored online at a more manageable pace. On the surface, that may not look like much is changing, but hopefully this update can make expectations more clear.

“Teni knows that there may be some in the audience who may feel down about this decision, or who were looking forward to the webcomic to be completed above all else. She says that's totally fair, and encourages anyone looking for stories to check out her recommendations. But she also hopes you'll understand, and be willing to stick around for other content in the meantime.”

"That brings Teni -- and me -- to one final point. Which is to sincerely thank you for all of your support, encouragement, and patience these past few years. In addition to things that are still in the works, there's a lot of content on this blog that had been inspired by everyone's engagement, which we can't thank you enough for!

“Teni and I, and everyone else from the pantheon, are excited about what’s next for Deities of Duat and DEITIES Project. And we’re looking forward to sharing more content, more freely, in the upcoming year for you all to enjoy.”

[lostinfic]

Self Indulgent prompts, huh? I love anything with artist Rose so something with that theme. I'm not picky about the Doctor- like my current obsession is Eight/Rose, but I'm perpetually in love with Nine/Rose and Ten/Rose too so whichever Doctor you're most comfortable with.

The Museum of Serendipity

Doctor x Rose, Wilf, male OC (Original Cat)

Rated E  | 2300 words

Sorry this took longer than anticipated, I got sidetracked by research and 8th Doctor audio adventures ;)

I’m fulfilling your self-indulgent prompts

Of all the wonderful, celebrated museums in London, Rose’s favourite was an anarchic collection housed in a crooked Georgian house in Marylebone. 

From ground floor to attic, over four storeys, shelves and frames lined the walls of every room, following a seemingly incoherent design. Part cabinet of curiosity and part celebration of beauty in all its forms, the collection was curated by an anonymous— and eccentric, Rose liked to imagine— philanthropist.

Its name, the Museum of Serendipity, summed up how the collection was put together. Or perhaps it indicated how this museum could be found: by sheer good luck, as it was not advertised anywhere. Rose herself had stumbled upon it by accident last September, when looking for a shelter from the rain. Quite a happy accident, since her art teacher had asked them to visit a gallery for their first assignment of the semester (she’d earned extra points for originality).

Despite few visitors, it remained open from morning to evening. More often than not, the elderly greeter slept in his rocking chair by the door, leaving Basil the cat in charge.

Its location near Regent’s Park, made it a perfect destination for a drawing session. On a beautiful spring day like today, Rose would walk along the paths of the park and draw the flora and fauna in her sketchbook. Then make her way towards the museum. Other days, after a long time indoors, she would enjoy the park’s fresh air and time to reflect on the latest collection piece she’d discovered.

Since her childhood, art had been a way for Rose to travel, around the globe and across time, a way to see the world through other people’s eyes and to share her own vision. A way to exist beyond the Powell Estate. The Museum of Serendipity transported her like nothing else.

Although she enjoyed the morning sun, she didn’t linger in Regent’s Park, too eager to get there. 

The elderly greeter was listening to the radio in his small front office. 

“Hello, Wilf!”

He jumped to his feet with an energy that belied his years.

“Ah, Rose, luv. Alright? How’s school?”

“Got another assignment to complete for art history class. By the way, mid-term break is coming up, if you fancy a holiday, I could cover your shifts here for a few days.”

He would be doing her a favour more than the other way around.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. “We got a new piece came in.”

New pieces were simply added to the exhibition wherever a space was available. As they walked to the drawing room, Rose tried to know more about the museum.

“Who brought this new piece?”

“John did, just this morning.”

“John?”

“Yeah, John McConnell , the mailman,” Wilf said. “Here it is.”

On the mantel lay an artifact shaped like a metal glove without fingertips. Or a pan flute.

“Looks like something from the future,” she joked.

“Modern art, then,” Wilf said. 

He left her to look at it a while longer. The pattern that covered it, both engraved and raised all at once, looked like scales. Rose pulled her sketchbook out of her messenger bag and drew it. Texture study. 

Basil, the museum’s Abyssinian cat, greeted her, rubbing himself against her legs. She petted his long ears and ruddy coat. She followed Basil out of the room, and wandered the now familiar corridors and staircases. Her hand trailed along the faded floral wallpaper and oak paneling. The smell of candle wax and pine wood polish always hung in the air.

There was one painting in particular Rose always came back to, in the third floor library, just above a loveseat that once belonged to Marie Antoinette. Ahead of her, Basil jumped on the loveseat and looked at her expectantly.   

Rose pulled up a chair to sit down, the museum was almost a second home now, she had no qualms moving furniture around.

With a dreamy sigh, she let her eyes roam the large canvas. It depicted a dozen people in elegant Edwardian clothing, visiting an art exhibition. She was transported back in times, it seemed. Back to la Belle Époque. Late 19th- early 20th century, in France. Among women in high-necked waist shirts, carrying white lace parasols and men wearing mustaches and straw boating hats. The era of Moulin Rouge and absinthe, of the first movie, of bicycles and Marie Curie, just to name a few.  The era of Gustav Klimt, Toulouse-Lautrec, Van Gogh and Renoir, the artists whose work Rose had first fallen in love with. The painting itself blended elements of Art Nouveau and Impressionism (as she’d described in her second assignment).  

But there was one character in particular that commanded her attention again and again. There, in the upper left corner. The painter had done this trick which makes it look like the subject’s eyes are on you wherever you stand in the room. Though unnerved at first, Rose now tried to master this technique. Countless time she’d drawn his thick, curly brown hair, the soft contours of his jaw, his blue eyes, the creases that bracketed his mouth. And that smile, a Mona Lisa smile, the hardest trait to capture. 

His clothes also offered many details to work on: the sheen of his satin cravat, the velvet of his jacket, the pattern of his waistcoat. 

At first, she only tried to capture his likeness in various mediums, but over time she tried to sketch his profile, his back. She depicted that gentleman in various poses and actions. He had taken a life of his own. What was he doing there that day? What was his relationship with the painter? Why was he looking at her like that?

Basil meowed. 

“Alright, don’t be jealous. I’ll draw you first, you beautiful boy.”

“Thanks, it’s a new jumper. Do you like the colour?” said a man with a northern accent.

Rose started. He was leaning against the door, looking at her, with the smallest hint of a smile. 

He picked up Basil and sat down on the loveseat, laying the cat on his legs crossed at the knees. Rose held back a quip about the similar size of their ears.

“Well, go on, then,” he said, indicating her sketchbook with his chin.  

“Hold on, are you the director of the museum? Or the curator?”

“No,” he said. “I don’t think so.”

At a loss for a reply, Rose simply got to work. 

If Basil wasn’t running away, then surely this man posed no threat. Just a lost, slightly odd item, like everything else in the Museum of Serendipity. Including herself.

His face offered such striking features to draw, that bold nose, those sharp cheekbones. The cropped hair revealed the shape of his skull and the collar of his sweater, a beautiful neck. A face for charcoal, she thought, to capture the lights and darks of him, in loose, almost intangible strokes. Charcoal and dry pastels, she amended, she had to recreate the infinite blue of his eyes.

They chatted about everything big and small: cats, galaxies, her doubts about art school and his hopes for the future of humanity.

Time flowed differently when she was creating. In that moment more than ever. A sort of appeasing, melodic hum filled her mind, and everything, but her subject, faded away.

When she traced his eyes, she was surprised to find in them a spark, as if he knew her. 

She looked up at him, and he smiled. “Hello,” he said.

Before she could think of a good way to phrase her question, he stood up and looked at the sketch over her shoulder. He gave an appreciative nod.

“We need someone to do a painting of the museum,” he announced. “Are you free to do it?”

“A painting? Are you taking the piss?”

“I’m serious. Great big canvas. Like this one.” He pointed to her favourite painting of la Belle Époque.

“I’ll need money to buy supplies,” she said, to test his good faith.

“Of course.”

He grabbed a tin box in a nearby bookcase; it was full of cash. He handed her the stack of pound notes without counting. Almost as if he was ignorant of their value. “Will this do?”

Rose nodded dumbly. She resolved right away to only spend a reasonable sum. 

“I’ll come by next Wednesday afternoon,” she said.

“Perfect. See you, then, Rose Tyler.”

She spent the next few days in a state of disbelief. Her mind constantly replayed her encounter with the blue-eyed man. Several times, she opened her sketchbook to look at his portrait. The fondness it aroused in her took her breath away. She found herself doodling both him and the gentleman in the painting, over and over.

She bought a load of art supplies, but kept the receipt in a secure place in case she needed a refund.

On Wednesday, she arrived at the museum with a knot in her stomach. Wilf greeted her, as usual, but he was wearing a smart new uniform.

A moment later, the blue-eyed man skipped down the stairs, two at a time, and welcomed her with a bright smile. He introduced himself as the Doctor, just the Doctor, and Rose went along with it— after all, it wasn’t the weirdest thing about him.

He’d set up an easel and a canvas in the third floor library. She barely paid attention to his directives, she was distracted by the number of visitors in the museum, more than she had ever seen.

“Is this a prank show thing or what?” she asked.

“Why would it be a prank show?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you said it. Why a prank show?” he repeated.

“‘Cause to get that many actors and props, it’s got to be on telly.”

“That makes sense. Well done.”

“Thanks?”

“It’s not a tv show,” he said. 

“But— why?”

“It’s the museum’s anniversary. We are interested in collecting unique pieces, and what’s more unique than Rose Tyler’s first commissioned artwork?” 

“Maybe the last,” she mumbled.

“It won’t be,” he said, stating a fact rather than paying a compliment. “Coffee?”

The Doctor knew something she didn’t, and as irritating as it was, it incited her to stay and fulfill his request.

She laid a tarp on the floor below the easel, spread out her brushes and palette knives, picked the colours. 

Basil, of course, wanted to be part of the painting. He lay down in the sunniest spot, on the window sill, looking ever so regal.

As she prepped the canvas, her brain ran ahead of her with ideas to best infuse her art with feelings this room evoked. Warm earth tones, old leather bound books, a thick Persian rug, but also glass cases to keep people away, artworks by undisclosed artists, mysteries all around. Inviting and distant all at once. Much like the Doctor.

She scanned the room for him. He stood in a corner of the library, surveying. As she traced his silhouette, she noticed the similarity, in his posture and smile, with the fascinating gentleman in the Belle Époque painting. She made a mental note to ask about that too.

Hours passed by, Wilf kept her comfortable with cups of tea, snacks, a stool, opening the window, closing the window.

Everyone had left. The sun had set. Only the Doctor and Basil remained in the room with her. 

The artwork wasn’t finished, but it had everything she needed to continue another day. Yet, she didn’t leave. She didn’t want to. She stood there, wringing her paint-splattered hands waiting for something, anything, from the Doctor. 

“I want to show you something,” he said. He took her hand and they both stood up on Marie Antoinette’s loveseat. “Look closely.”

Now inches from the Belle Époque painting, she saw it like she never had before. It shimmered and shifted. Like those 3D images you have to cross your eyes to see. She blinked. Looked closer. And drifted through the canvas.

Rose gripped the Doctor’s hand tighter. Behind them, there was no library, only a blue door. And in front of her, the painting had come to life. No— they weren’t in the painting, they were in Paris of the 1900s. Around her, people chatted in French, cigar smoke wafted to her nose, and through a window that wasn’t on the painting, she could see the brand new Eiffel tower.

The gentleman that had so fascinated her was there too. Thick hair, bright smile.

“Rose, we meet at last,” he said.

His voice sounded exactly like she’d imagined. She didn’t know until now that she’d imagined his voice.

“She’s all yours,” the Doctor said.

Rose didn’t let go of his hand.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here to bring you back to your own timeline.”

He disappeared through the blue door.

The other man linked their arms together. A feeling of safety washed over her. He was a stranger and yet not at all. As if to reassure her further, an Abyssinian cat sauntered by.

“Is that Basil?” Rose asked.

“In a fashion. Cats have nine lives, as you know.”

“And you, Doctor, how many have you got?”

The Doctor smiled. “Ah, you figured it out, clever girl.”

That didn’t mean she didn’t have a ton of questions, but for now, she only wanted to soak up the magic of it all. 

The Doctor showed her around the room. They mingled with the other visitors, admiring the artwork on the walls. Rose couldn’t stop grinning.

They stopped in front of a painting depicting another gallery, in another museum, in another era.

“Can we go through there too?” Rose ventured.

“Yes, but wouldn’t you like to see Paris first?”

“We can go out?”

“Of course. You know, my friend Claude has been pestering me about visiting his garden. Nice fellow, this Claude. Mind you, he’s a tad obsessed with water lilies.”

[let-it-show]

All The Love I Found In You 2/?

Look! The next part! For those who haven’t seen, here is Part 1. I think you guys will like this part a lot...getting through the day, dealing with the good and bad of being in a different body , bonding and uuuh well, Anna drops a bomb. But they have fun!! Part 3 is HERE Also tagging @hellodemoiselle

Nothing was going to get figured out in that moment, and Elsa knew she needed to prepare herself to be Anna for the day. Them hiding away would only cause murmurs among staff and the villagers, as Anna's arrival had not been silent. It was clearly not a normal visit. That meant she had to get dressed.

When she eventually seperated from Anna and shed the blanket, she shivered again. Inside the castle was warm but once she felt cold, it was like she couldn't shake it. In fact, she was almost chilled to her bones! There was no defense against it. She could only shiver in front of the mirror and try to puzzle out where to start on the hair. She'd brushed it before but not when it was on her own head.

Anna sat her down in a chair at the vanity and took a brush from the drawer. She began to work the ends to start sorting it out while Elsa stared. "How does - how do you do this?"

"Do what?"

"How does your hair get like this? I don't understand. Mine has been messy before if I don't braid it but this is..."

Anna laughed. "I move around a lot. I toss and turn and snore. I kind of always have."

"You don't with me," Elsa pointed out. Anna moved a little, but it never seemed so severe. "You do snore but you don't flop around."

"That's because of YOU." Anna laughed a little more. "I either hold onto you or stay still if you have me. You don't move at all, Elsa! Sometimes I have to fix your arms so I can breathe."

"Of course I don't move. You're there." Years of separation had them hold each other hard to begin with, and their current situation only made things toughter. The knot in Elsa's heart began to form again and she desperately needed it gone.

There was unrest in Anna too, their conversation having just hit a dead stop. Elsa wasn't really sure why and it nagged at her. It wasn't like they never talked about their cuddling. "Anyway...I don't move much otherwise either. If I react to a dream it's with ice."

"I noticed," Anna said softly. There were a few times they woke up to ice sparkling and hovering in beautiful little crystals around the bed. Elsa knew those were from dreams of Anna.

Nothing more was said as Anna worked on the hair, carefully untangling the strands until she could actually work it into some kind of style. She braided the hair, not seeming to be bothered looking down at her own head. Elsa supposed concentrating on detangling hair was a good enough distraction.

When it was braided but not pinned up, Anna tugged on the nightshirt. "Okay, we need you in a dress now. Remember how to put on a dress rather than making it appear?" Anna teased, and ventured over to the closet.

Elsa huffed. "Of course I do. You know I've put on some normal dresses! They just always feel weirdly heavy, even the finest cloths."

"Uh-huh. Take my nightgown off."

"But I'm nearly naked underneath!"

Anna sighed and Elsa caught her own annoyed face. Was THAT how she looked? "Elsa, it's me." That was true in every damn way.

And it really didn't help. They'd seen each other in barely any clothing at all before, and Elsa always worried. She worried because of how she would look at Anna. Elsa wasn't used to seeing anyone else's body. Her own she was too used to but when she would see Anna's, her eyes would trace over her curves in what she could only call appreciation. Anna's freckled shoulders and her cute tummy with a little mole next to her bellybutton always called to her. How did another person have such perfect features?

She found herself wanting to stroke her stomach and kiss along her back with her lips curv-

And then she had to stop thinking. She stood awkwardly. She was definitely not supposed to think those things.

"I've got the dress picked, now will you just...? Elsa!"

Elsa went for it and pulled the gown up and over her head. It wasn't like Anna was going to think anything of her own body. Then she stood there in underwear, her chest bare. And her chest- was cold. Really cold. There were parts of her that were stiff and she didn't like the way it happened. Not at all.

Anna was sorting through undergarments without any concern while Elsa crossed her arms over her chest and red spread over her entire being. She shouldn't feel so weird, right? Anna glanced at her and then looked again. She raised an eyebrow. "Ooh...you're not used to your nipples being cold!" This fact seemed to bring her great amusement and a big smile spread over her face. "Haha! You've got cold nipples! For every time you've ever tricked me, now you're getting it!"

Elsa's mouth fell open. "Are you-are you laughing at me?" Her skin had broken into goosebumps too which was weird, but not as bad as feeling the cold elsewhere.

And there was Anna as her, absolutely doubling over in laughter. "Yes! I'm worried about you, yes, but I can't believe I'm watching you have cold nipples! All the time I thought about th-I mean! I never saw this happening!" she stumbled over her own laughter and took a shaky step forward.

"Stop!" Elsa complained, but found her own face breaking into a smile. Yea, it was one of the most ridiculous things that she would have happen! It was embarrassing but funny, and she just let herself join in with the laughter.

The joy in the air between them was thick, and sparkly little images of happy snowmen materialized briefly, rolling in snow and laughing. They were having fun. Anna's eyes went wide and she stopped laughing as she saw the images. They went away and she pointed. "Did I do that?"

"Yes, and it was perfect," Elsa said with a smile still on her face. That's because it was so Anna, to see her happiness materialize like that. "I loved it. Sometimes magic wants to help you express, and what I saw was your joy, your playfulness." She didn't think she could see it enough. Watching Anna manifest it chased away the emptiness again.

Anna smiled again, dropped what she was holding, and reached for Elsa. She pulled her close and wrapped her arms around her. The joy was still there and Elsa held her too. She forgot about her chest for a moment because she was right where she wanted to be. At least, she almost forgot.

"This MUST help with the nipples," Anna giggled after a minute, and Elsa could only laugh with her.

-----

Somehow Elsa found herself finally dressed in a deep purple dress with wheat symbols on it. It had long sleeves for her since Anna worried about her being chilly. She had on stockings and a bodice and everything just felt surpremely awkward for her. It all felt like she may as well be in a suit of armor, but moving around was normal. Elsa had worried she would find herself acting stiffly. Her hair hung in one long braid as Elsa had worn when she was queen. It helped a little.

Anna gave her a thumbs up and yet another hug before they allowed themselves to exit the room. The Queen was expected to do certain things after all. Elsa knew how to do it all but she needed Anna to update her on a few details and thus they were able to stick to each other. Elsa found it hard to give herself a little more bounced in her step and lose some of her poise. It wasn't that Anna moved around like a monkey, but she did hold herself differently.

When she tried to act as Elsa, she looked like a pretentious snob and Elsa again found herself wondering if she really looked like that. She couldn't possibly, could she?

She had to shake it while going to council to discuss preparations for spring and crops.

That was a challenge.

The topic was easy but trying to act like Anna? She could tell when she was too smooth. She could also tell where she was supposed to laugh at a strange comment all because Anna would laugh. Then she would catch herself and the mood in the room would shift. Sometimes she agreed too slowly.

It might be easy if she had to act  stupid. But Anna was pretty far from being stupid. She was smart -she was brilliant in a way Elsa admired. At the same time she was more of an extrovert, she had thoughts on her tongue before they had even finished coming together in her head, and she had a spark that was so different to Elsa.

After the meeting Elsa's head hurt. She rubbed it briefly. "Yea, that was...interesting," Anna commented. She let out a breath and a pile of snow fell on the table Elsa sat at, making her jump. "Ooh...I was tense," Anna added.

"I'll say," Elsa said with a sigh. "It's time for a walk, isn't it? Getting some air might help."

"Actually..." Anna's stomach growled and Elsa winced. Hearing her own stomach growl was unsettling. "We rushed out and everything made us forget breakfast. Let's do that instead."

Food could certainly help so Elsa agreed.

They met back up with Kristoff for their meal, and he seemed in a cheery mood. Apparently the visitors to the kingdom were good friends with him. He strolled up to the girls and stood near Elsa awkwardly for a moment before remembering which one of them was actually Anna. "Still switched?" he had asked quietly as they sat down at the long table.

Anna nodded. "Yea. Turns out you can't change bodies by changing your clothes," she joked.

Elsa laughed as she sat next to Anna and shook her head. "Unfortunately I don't think this will get sorted that fast."

"Well I'll still hope it wraps up in a strangely quick and convenient way," he said as the servers brought them tea. "This morning was fine but everyone will expect to see you out and walking the town. Sven and I don't have the same effect."

"No, I imagine not," Elsa remained smiling. "I still think a walk may actually be a good idea." Maybe if they could be more casual with their behaviors it would help for both of them. "Anna?"

"I agree. But first, food! Waffles!" Anna was looking close to drooling.

Elsa hoped she didn't. If the servers saw that they might be concerned. At the same time, she tried to look more excited for waffles.

Meanwhile Kristoff had been drumming his fingers on the table. "Oh, by the way, our visitors insist we have a party here tomorrow night. You know with the staff and the counsel. Drinks and dancing. I told them it's short notice to hold a dance but they already brought...all the drinks and musicians."

"Ugh." Anna rolled her eyes. "Again? Why are they like that...every time..."

"You can say no, you know," Elsa told her. "I did most of the time."

Anna just shrugged. That was when the door flew open and in ran Olaf. The girls and Kristoff smiled at him. "Olaf! You're finally up!" Anna said and then stopped. She had to have forgotten he didn't know.

Olaf stopped just a short distance from them. He looked at them with a certain sort of confusion in his eyes. "Something's weird," he told them, and they exchanged glances.

They were going to tell him anyway, so Elsa decided not to drag it out. "Olaf, we seem to have swapped bodies. I'm really Elsa and she's really Anna," she explained, pointing at her sister. She was a little nervous about his reaction. "

"Ooooh...ooooh!" He looked between both of them and actually smiled a little. "Oh that makes sense! No wonder I feel weird!"

"Oh, YOU feel weird! We thought-ah nevermind." Anna tilted her head. "Wait, how do you feel weird?" she asked and Elsa was curious too. How was he affected?

"Yea, what? I was looking for you earlier too," Kristoff said in surprise.

Olaf touched the ends of his stick hands together. "I woke up feeling kind of what I guess is sick. Kind of fuzzy?"

"Fuzzy?" Elsa asked and looked at Anna, who shrugged back.

"Uh huh. I was weak too sort of, but it came in waves. Then just a little while ago I started to feel normal and-and I just thought I reached that super mature point where you get flus."

It wasn't hard for Elsa to figure out. "So...you evening out using my powers affected Olaf. Wow...I didn't really realize that -that aside from being alive...that anything I did concerning magic came back on you," Elsa said in wonder. She never had to purposely think about Olaf in order for him to continue existing. As far as she was aware she didn't have to do anything because he was already created and an extension of her magic that was sentient...

If she was being honest she had tried not to ever think about the specifics of how it all worked. Science could only apply so much to magic. In regards to magic, there was a chill in the air.

Anna looked horrified, her eyes wide open. Elsa could feel the panic coming off her. Elsa immediately pet her shoulder slowly, trying to soothe her. Anna's mouth was open and it was a second before she could get it out. "Olaf I-I'm so sorry..."

Olaf laughed and waved his arm. "Oh. I'm okay! I got back to normal."

"Still if I hadn't...if I had done something different I..." Anna squirmed in the seat and Elsa was disturbed by the guilty look her own face took on. It wasn't something she imagined Anna liked seeing...

"Hey, hey. He's alright. You DID get control," Elsa said, stroking her arm. The table had started to frost.

"But but...if I hadn't..."

"Anna? Anna, Olaf was created with the love I always felt  for you. There's no way something bad would have ended up happening," she said confidently. Her love for Anna would always exist, and strong. And she knew Anna felt that too so the magic in her hands would hold Olaf together. He was formed by true love, which couldn't be broken.

Elsa was staring into her eyes, and Anna looked into hers. They truly saw each other that way, and Elsa felt like she was being pulled and tugged in. She couldn't fight it.

Olaf spoke and it ended. "That's true! I might have been meltier, but still here." Olaf laughed, but then assumed a curious look again. "So...why are you switched?"

Elsa sighed. "Don't know. I woke up here, she woke up on Ahtohallan."

"She got here on Nokk but he already left," Kristoff snorted.

"And we need to figure it out, but first we have to do what I usually do in the day," Anna added. "Then we can study more, maybe even go see the trolls." Kristoff looked interested at that.

"Maybe I can find a book about it!" Olaf offered, his eyes lighting up.

"You are in the library all the time," Anna agreed. "If anyone knows where to look in there, at this point it's you. Plus if anything does happen you'll be safe in there."

"Anything does happen?" Olaf repeated back to her.

"Anna.." Kristoff said softly and Elsa put her arm around her.

"Nothing is going to happen to him, Anna. You've got something back in balance now, so he's fine." Elsa wasn't sure she was prepared to handle Anna worrying about hurting Olaf with her powers. No. That was too familiar and the selfish part of her prayed and prayed that she wouldn't have to touch back on her old trauma to hold off Anna's fears.

She wasn't strong enough for that.

Luckily a smile began to spread over her face once again. The panic gave way to calm and even Elsa relaxed. "You're right," Anna agreed. "I think I've got a better hold on them, since I didn't just ice the table-um, not completely anyway!"

"You're right," Elsa told her and took her hand, squeezing it. "Now remember-waffles."

Breakfast went without further incident, save Elsa trying to make it look like normal Anna eating waffles.  It wasn't pretty and Kristoff laughed until he was red. When food was done and more time had passed than they had realized, the sisters separated from Kristoff once again. Olaf decided to tag along with the town walk. Elsa knew he would get distracted away immediately.

She was right about how it was easier to be out and about, for starters. Sure, people saw them and said hi, asked them how they were, and a couple did politely ask why Elsa had come in yelling and out of control.

"Oh I uh, I had an awful nightmare and I just really wanted to see Anna. Sorry it was so dramatic," Anna tried to play it off as no big deal, going a little more casual than most people would ever see Elsa. She was close enough, though, for Elsa not to make a very non-Anna like face.

At least the answer came off as acceptable. No one pursued it with any confused questions, choosing instead to ask if she felt better. When they got into town it became a little more difficult. A couple people approached who they thought was their queen to ask about this and that, mostly some gossipy stuff. Anna always dealt with that with such grace Elsa had trouble mimicking it. Elsa always brushed off gossip before, not getting into it unless it affected the larger picture.

Anna was always willing to listen and respond, but she did so in a way that didn't encourage the gossip. She put hopeful spins on situation or immediately looked for some element of good to immediately zoom in on. Elsa tried to do that but in effect was awkward. Anna tried to offer comments where she could to make up for it, but even that had to be carefully calculated. Olaf played a good interference, talking a lot to everyone they met.

He was chatting to a little girl when they were passing a dress shop when suddenly the door opened and the owner, a small round man named Baggi, came running out. "Queen Anna!" he yelled, sounding alarmed.

Both girls turned around, and Elsa had to manage a "Yes?".

"Ah! I'm so sorry to intrude," Baggi said, looking nervous suddenly. "However, I've heard you sent to cancel the dress you were to have us make, and I wondered, I mean I worried, had we done something to make you cross?" he asked, staring at his fingers.

"The dress.The dress!" What dress? Anna never mentioned anything she should know about a dress. She usually showed her the pictures of any new dresses she wanted to have made, both as a princess and queen.

Anna rushed to fix it. "The dress! Anna, you said you were no longer going to need it. So that's all," Anna said, trying to look relaxed.

Baggi looked at her. "But why wouldn't you need a wedding dress? Unless, oh, have you two already, did you-"

Anna held up her hand. "No...currently wedding plans are on hold, Queen Anna has new obligations that will have to come first before she can think about a wedding." She gave Elsa a meaningful glance.

The wedding cancellation, as she was sure it actually was, came as news to Elsa. But she could only nod in response to Baggi.

"I see...ah, taking advice from your older sister to be a queen, I see," said Baggi with a chuckle. "Ah that is smart Anna. When you have your affairs in order, we would still love to make the dress."

"Okay..." Elsa said, her mind struggling to process it. Why hadn't Anna told her that? It seemed a strange decision for her to make and not speak of.

Baggi frowned. "I apologize, this may be emotional for you...thank you for your time, Queen Anna!" He bowed his head and hurried back to his shop.

Elsa looked at Anna. "...What was that?"

Olaf was running back over for Anna just looked away nervously. "I'll tell you when we're alone again," she said, and Elsa had to accept it.

Then they were off again, walking and trying to chat about what was around them, focus on anything but the heavy question between them. Elsa thought Kristoff seemed a little off that morning. Did it have to do with whatever it was Anna needed to talk to her about? Elsa had no idea how to approach it but she would have to.

When they were by the woods they fell quiet and Olaf wandered off again. Elsa shivered a little even under the nice warm dress but she wasn't about to suggest they turn back. There wasn't really anyone around as they found one of their favorite walking trails, the vegetation around them just barely starting to awake to spring. It probably didn't help, Elsa noticed, that little sprinkles of ice had begun to fall behind Anna. They left a glittering path that would help them if they somehow wandered off the trail.

"Anna," she said softly as they reached the small clearing they often liked to picnic in. Elsa missed seeing it often and noted how she didn't miss the northern forest. That was to think about later... "We need to talk about what happened back there. It's clearly bothering you." She didn't like that Anna was holding back. Regardless, she didn't say anything about it right away. Elsa understood.

Anna looked at her and then at her fingers which were covered in ice. "You mean this? It won't stop! They keep tingling, they have been a bit since breakfast, but it got worse..."

She was changing the subject but Elsa let it happen. The persistence of her powers was something that did need attention. "It does that. It kind of, it builds up throughout the day. I got used to it, but you need to release it often. There's a good reason I turned so many things to ice every day, aside from it being beautiful."

Elsa stared at her hands, really Anna's. It was strange not to have anything pulsing through her veins, but she also felt normal in a sense. She was in a non-magic body.

Another hand took one of hers and squeezed in gently. "So what do I do? Just...shoot ice?"

"Sometimes." Elsa laughed a little. She squeezed Anna's hand back.  She continued to touch her wrist as she moved around her, stopping behind her. She kept her arm around her and took Anna's hand again. "Just open your palm and shoot."

"Uh..." Anna opened her hand, palm out, Elsa's fingers laying against hers. After a second a large snowball came shooting out. It flew right across the clearing and smacked into a small tree on the other side. "Oh! I hadn't tried and...I hadn't thought..."

"Again," Elsa said, her chin on her shoulder. It was getting a little more comfortable to rest herself against her body. Oh, it was incredibly strange still! But feeling Anna's spirit humming against her the way it did made it somewhat more acceptable.

Anna shot another snowball, and then three little ones right in a row. She laughed and sparkles came out, once again in the quick image of a snowman. So, that was really Anna's thing!

Elsa laughed in delight and wrapped her other arm around Anna's waist. "Make something else!"

"Like what?" Anna asked, flicking tiny snowballs onto the ground.

"I don't know. Make a sunflower out of snow!" Elsa encouraged her, a smile wide on her face. Anna using her magic made her feel such warmth, she didn'twant it to stop. She wanted to see more and more!

Anna used her hand to try and arrange snow, but when she summoned it, it landed in a pile. She whipped her hand around and sent it all somewhere into the forest. "Oh no..."

"Use both hands! Like...like you're painting or drawing, maybe," Elsa told her. She released her hand and hugged her completely from behind.

"Oh!" Anna raised both hands, her left doing the most movement still. That hadn't changed with the switch. She hesitated, then started to draw in midair, starting with the inside of the flower.

In front of her the center manifested in gleaming ice all at once, glittering under the sun. She giggled and held her hands open, flicking all her fingers and giggling more as ice petals flowed from them to arrange themselves on the middle. The flower turned slowly in midair as many petals danced on it, placing themselves with care.

Elsa was grinning ear to ear. "Give it a stem! And leaves!" she told her, and Anna obliged.

She flicked two fingers and a long, elegantly curved stem anchored it to the ground. With one hand waving in the air she let the stem grow beautiful thin leaves. There was a glimmer to them that Elsa wasn't sure even she could repeat if she tried. Maybe it was the sun above them, maybe it was the little breeze through the small clearing, maybe it was a lot of things that added to the perfection. But it was mainly Anna.

"It's beautiful!" she said with a laugh and nuzzled against her sister, pressing their faces together. "You're amazing," she told her. Elsa felt like her heart was threatening to burst.

"Oh, sure. I can make a flower! You've made an entire palace of ice and...well, I can't even keep track!" Anna replied. She was drawing in the air with ice sparkles, making little hearts that could float around her flower. The little snowmen came again, chasing each other around the base od the stem and Elsa could swear they tinkled with the sweet bell-like sound of laughter.

It was almost sad Anna didn't have those powers normally, regrettable in a way. The way Anna's glee showed itself, Elsa couldn't take her eyes away. "Amazing," she repeated, almost a whisper.

Anna turned in her arms and pulled Elsa into a tight embrace. She didn't say anything. She just held her. Elsa closed her eyes. She wished it could last forever, the feeling that was between them right then. Nothing ever felt so complete, not in her whole damn life.

Ahtohallan and the spirits were a world away. Even the castle wasn't in her mind. Home and everything she wanted was in her arms and she couldn't stand to have it end.

It couldn't last forever, she knew that. When they did step away from each other - and it hurt, it tugged at her - she saw a shine in Anna's soul as she looked to her eyes. She was sure it was there in her too. Elsa didn't know what to say at first, and she stroked the white material on Anna's arms. "...You know, you can make your own outfit. You don't have to wear my dress."

"Is it okay that I-"

"Of course! Of course," Elsa rushed to assure her. "But you can also be more you if you want. Wear anything that makes you happy, although I suppose you shouldn't go too nuts with the colors or any odd designs." She didn't want anyone to have suspicions about her. Whether they judged her or not, she didn't care, but she wanted her body and Anna's soul safe.

"Hmmm. How do I do it...?"

"Visualize what you want, like the flower. See yourself in it, see the designs laying themselves on. You just...you have to think about the clothes going on you." Elsa hoped she was explaining it right.

Anna moved a few steps away, more into the clearing. "I'm doing this because if I mess up, I'll end up naked in a mini snowstorm and I don't want to catch you in it."

"I'll be fine!" Elsa assured her.

"Sure, Cold Nipple Spirit." Anna stuck her tongue out. Elsa was tripped up completely by how silly her face looked and couldn't find a comeback - but she was definitely going to have one later.

Anna looked down for a second and began to wave her arm slowly. The ground glowed a slight blue and purple as the dress she was in began to fade away from the bottom. It was replaced by a dark blue color, decorated with the gems and long elegant snow designs Elsa liked in various shades of purple. It stretched up to become a cape as the main body and skirt of her dress took on a teal color. The bottom was decorated with snowflakes and sunflowers alternating. Above the sunflowers were thin light purple lines that spread into purple and violet diamonds, reaching up to more sunflowers. A darker teal ribbon went around her waist and even more sunflowers covered her torso. Over her chest the material darkened again. Her shoulders and chest were bare and light teal formed thin sleeves down her arms to her wrists. Dark blue diamonds and purple lines decorated them as well.

Once done, Anna twirled slowly in front of Elsa and looked at her with a blush. "Did I do well?" she asked shyly, looking at the bottom of her dress.

There really were a lot of sunflowers but Elsa didn't think anyone would find it too odd. She'd decorated herself in them before, both in Arendelle and in the forest. The Northuldra found it a bit odd and bright but she enjoyed being wrapped in something that reminded her of Anna.

"Wonderful," Elsa finally answered, coming closer to examine it. She touched the cape and relished the familiar chill in her fingers. It was very welcome. She felt the sleeves gently and approved. "You did well...more of a design than I would have thought."

"Are you sure it's okay?" Anna asked, biting her lip.

"Of course!" Elsa smiled, but it began to fade. "Well...now that you've changed clothes and had some release...let's talk about what Baggi said back there."

Anna widened her eyes and looked surprised. Maybe she thought Elsa forgot, but she hadn't. She had been distracted, certainly, but had not forgotten. "I have to?"

"We aren't supposed to hold these things back from each other. You know this. I've worked hard to stick to it and now..." She took Anna's hands, her voice quiet. "Talk to me.."

"O...kay." Anna took a deep breath. "I called off the wedding. For now. Or...for good."

"Why?"

"Something hasn't been feeling right. Part of it is true about being new to being Queen and learning and focusing! I don't know how to even think about putting wedding planning in there."

"You have time when I visit, we don't even do anything but stay in bed sometimes." That wasn't a complaint. Elsa knew if Anna wanted something, she found time for it and made it happen.

"I know! I wouldn't trade that for anything. But it's only part, like I said." Her hands were turning cold again in Elsa's. "But it just - it doesn't feel right. Something has been missing ever since we came back and you-you stayed up there."

Elsa felt a large wave of guilt wash over her. She had thought at the time, she was doing things right, she was learning, she was staying with their mother's people. There was a list of reasons she thought it was right, but over time her urge to be back with Anna had become hard to avoid.

"I can't marry Kristoff if I'm not sure how I'm feeling, I can't marry someone if I feel so incomplete. I don't know if I want-want to marry," Anna continued.

Elsa blinked. "You always liked love and the idea of marrying someone someday, at least when you were little."

"Mmhmm, when I was little. But things changed. That was when I had a sister, before there was a gap where I just wanted to be around anyone who would give me time. There's...things just changed and I..." Tears were welling up in her eyes. Elsa wasn't interested in seeing herself cry so she pulled Anna into yet another hug.

She got it. There was maybe more Anna wanted to say but she was struggling. Elsa could put together the basics well enough. Anna was hurting and lost without her again. Her soul felt incomplete. And she didn't feel up to marrying someone in that state. She didn't think it would even give her what she needed, and Anna wasn’t a cruel, selfish person. She wouldn't string Kristoff along or marry him for appearances.

Elsa knew Anna loved Kristoff. She just may not love him the way she thought she did before.

"Anna? I'd like to ask you more about this later," she said, stroking her back. "For now, thank you for what you have told me. I know-I know it was hard. Getting out secrets you're afraid to talk about, they're hard."

Anna nodded. "Yes...I'm sorry I didn't tell you before."

"Oh Anna." She couldn't be mad. "It's okay. I'm not mad at you." Was it even possible for her to be mad at Anna? Frustrated sometimes, yes, but not mad.

"There you are!" Olaf's voice sounded, and Elsa felt Anna raise her head. "Is everything okay?"

They released each other and both turned to face him. Anna knelt down and Olaf walked up to her with a curious look on his face. "Yes, everything is okay," she said, opening her arms for him. "I told Elsa about the wedding finally."

Olaf walked into her arms and accepted the nice warm hug. "Finally! Oh, I'm relieved! You know how hard it is to keep secrets!"

"I have an idea, yes," Elsa responded as she crossed her arms. Olaf knew? She was a bit put off by that, but it was forgivable. Who else did Anna have to tell, to get that off her mind? Certainly not her when she was off on some glacier watching bad weather.

When Anna released Olaf she looked up at Elsa again. "I'm sorry...again."

Elsa melted for her once again. She couldn't stay annoyed with Anna. "It's alright. Listen, we should make our way back to the castle, right? We can talk later."

Anna nodded and stood back up. "Okay."

"Wow! Nice dress! Did you make it?" Olaf asked, and Anna was distracted. She smiled and looked down.

"Yes! I did! With Elsa's help," she said, beaming at her.

"It was mostly you, though, you made that beauty," Elsa told her, and it was true. Anna brought the brightness everywhere.

"And did you make that?" Olaf asked, pointing at the ice flower in the clearing. "Anna you're a natural!"

"She is!" Elsa agreed, studying the flower again. Once again she found it hard to look away.

Anna was red and she hopped a few paces away from them. "Okay okay, let's go!" she told them. "We need to get back so I-so you can hold open court and everyone can ask whatever annoying questions they want," she said, and Elsa groaned.

"I don't miss that," she said, walking forward with Olaf beside.

"I didn't think you would. Tell you what, tonight let's eat a lot - A LOT of food. We'll retire early and take the longest, most relaxing bath. I haven't done that in a while."

"You take baths often!" Olaf exclaimed.

"Not long ones. Not even relaxing ones," Anna told him. Elsa hadn't in a while either, she realized, and it sounded perfect. Maybe they needed to let go of some stress...maybe that would do the trick. "I think that's the best idea, Anna," Elsa told her. She looked at the sky; it was indeed getting along in the day and they had to return.

The three walked home with the cool breeze at their backs, though not a single one of them was in the mood to rush.

[kutemouse]

Hey, can i request angsty drabble with jimin? It's like jimin tell yn that he doesn't love her anymore, and she just breaking up and jimin regret it? Sad ending please :( I'm sorry for my grammar :((

Of course! You’re my second ever requester, and I got so excited when I saw this come in :D I hope I did your request justice! It’s kind of a long “drabble” as well, I apologize, but my writing is always detail-filled so *shrug* This is just how it comes out. Let me know if like and honey, never apologize for your grammar, you are perfect the way you are :)

Disclaimer: I pulled this gif off of Pinterest, so I didn’t make it. I did crop it, though.

Age Recommendation: 16+

Warnings: Swears? I don’t think there are any but just in case, ANGST with a sad ending :( Jimin being a jerk-face, regret.

Word Count: 1,378

Summary: Jimin mourns the loss of a relationship that should’ve been something more.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

It’s Crazy (Jimin Drabble, tiny bit of Fluff, Angst)

Jimin’s POV

It’s crazy how relationships work.

We weren’t always like this. When I first saw her, she was sitting outside of a small restaurant in Paris, sipping on a glass of wine. Drinking at eleven in the morning? My kind of girl.

You were the most beautiful person I’d ever seen. Besides the wine glass, I noticed the way your eyes slid over the pages of the book you were reading, devouring it like it was the last book on earth. Purple glasses were perched on your nose, matching the purse that hung over the back of your chair. Your skirt modestly hit your knees, but your tank top showed off the gorgeous skin of your shoulders. I couldn’t resist going over to say something.

You recognized me, of course. I wasn’t surprised, with the way my face is plastered all over the internet, but I couldn’t help the twinge of disappointment that ran through me. It was cute how you pretended not to know who I was, though.

I asked you out, and although at first you were cautious, you gave in after a few days of texts and a phone call or two. Taking you to a lavish restaurant was a mistake. You grew apprehensive when you saw the prices on the menu, even more so when I asked you to relax and just let me take care of it. Clearly, you weren’t the kind of girl that cared about that sort of thing.

The next date went better. Just a local cafe, with regularly-priced drinks and plates of food. You were finally able to relax, and talk, and laugh. God, I loved your laugh. The way you scrunched your nose as you giggled tipped the scales, making me fall hard for you.

When the three weeks of my vacation were up, I was already calling you my girlfriend. We talked about you moving to Seoul to be closer to me, but even I knew the distance would be difficult no matter what. Still, you were strong. You knew who I was before we met, and therefore, knew the life you were agreeing to. The separation was hard, but it was made easier by nightly video chats and a constant stream of texts.

After six months, you moved to Seoul. I remember picking you up at the airport and swinging you around, peppering your face with kisses as you laughed. I was so happy, then. Everything seemed right… until it wasn’t.

As the months of our relationship went on, the sparks between us cooled off and we grew more comfortable around each other. You wore less makeup and more leggings, there was a drawer of your stuff at my place, and we started spending nights in rather than going out. I didn’t mind this, really. It was nice being able to be more myself around you and not have to try so hard. Unfortunately, that was exactly the problem… Both of us stopped trying, and our relationship suffered because of it.

More time passed, and you ended up moving in with me. It was great, because for the first little while, we entered that honeymoon phase again. Something new and exciting… but that didn’t last long. As each day passed, I realized that girl that I met a year and a half ago, who I fell so hard for on that cafe date, who used to make my stomach flip over itself, who used to make my heart feel full just by looking at me… was no longer that special.

We barely tolerated each other, constantly fighting over stupid stuff and snapping at each other. Our relationship took a turn for the worst. It wasn’t bad or anything… but it wasn’t good, either. And no matter what we did, no matter how many times we tried to change or make it right, the relationship we both used to treasure was on a steady decline. We started saying “I love you” less, replacing it with phrases like, “Goodnight,” or, “See you tomorrow.” Neither of us questioned it or brought it up. In the back of our minds, I think we both knew where things were heading. After all, a relationship ultimately ends one of two ways. You either break up, or you stay together.

Finally, the day came where you said those dreaded words. “Jimin… Do you even love me anymore?”

We were sitting on our couch, and you were looking at me while I refused to look anywhere but at the ground in front of me. “No,” I muttered after a few minutes of silence. “I don’t.”

Despite this confession being nothing new, I still remember the hurt in your eyes that caused tears to well up and trickle down. I slept on the couch that night, listening to you sob. I could practically hear your heart breaking, but I could no longer keep lying to myself and, more importantly, to you. This wasn’t working anymore.

A week passed, and you had found a new place and were moving out. “It’s for the best,” you said, hands shoved in your jacket pockets, looking anywhere but at me.

I nodded in agreement. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore. Being gone for months at a time, the late-night practices, the long hours at the recording studio… I knew it wasn’t easy on you. I wanted to stop the pain.

Another year passed, and I began seeing pictures of you on social media with another guy. He wasn’t a celebrity or anyone special, but you seemed happy. I noticed the way you scrunched your nose had come back… too bad it was no longer just for me.

It was our last concert of our tour, which we chose to end in Seoul. We were singing Mikrokosmos and waving goodbye to all our fans, when my heart nearly stopped. There you were, smiling up at me, singing your heart out. He was behind you with his arms wrapped around you, swaying you both in time to the beat, smiling and laughing as he leaned down and kissed your cheek.

I pretended not to see you, keeping a taut smile on my face as I waved goodbye to the rest of the crowd. So this is what our relationship has come down to. We’re just… nothing. Complete strangers. Our lives will never intertwine again, and even if they did, it would never be the same. Every kiss, every night together, every trip has boiled down to absolutely nothing but memories. Did it even really happen?

I felt disappointment roil through me the same way a thundercloud rolls over a sunny sky. How did I let things get to this point? How did I ever let you go? I kept pushing you away in the name of stopping the hurt, but I never gave a thought to my own feelings. I lied back then. I loved you. I loved you so much. Part of me still loves you. We should’ve ended up getting married, not as complete strangers.

As the stage lowered and we waved goodbye to our fans for the final time, I locked eyes with you and watched your sharp inhale as you realized I was looking at you. As if of its own accord, my hand reached out and I gave a little wave just for you. You gave me a half-smile and waved back. The only difference is, I was trying to say hello. I didn’t want to be strangers anymore. I wanted you back in my life, back to the point where you felt comfortable enough around me to eat as messily as you wanted and to wear whatever you felt like. You, however, were saying goodbye. For the last time. For forever.

I came to that realization as the stage hit the ground and staff swarmed me, offering me towels to wipe sweat away and bottles of water. I’d never have another chance. Our lives were on two completely different paths. It would never be the same.

Waving everyone off, I walked towards my dressing room, numbness taking over as my subconscious tried to protect me from the pain. So this is what regret feels like.

It’s crazy how relationships work. Or rather, how they don’t.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Part Two→

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Jigsaw // Blue: Part Three

Painted Ponies

A/N: This is the final part to Blue...but is it the end of the road for Billy? (side note, this is number 16/19 smooches!! three more for Billy, and then a special bonus one to make up for all  the heartache I’ve caused.) 

Warning: language, violence, graphic descriptions, murder, character death THIS ONE IS ROUGH.

Word Count: 4,112

Prompt from: @luminex3 

Vision obscured by the thick warm blood dripping into his eyes, he curled the shattered digits of his left hand around Frank’s bruised and broken knuckles, and around the handle of the blade held to his throat. His right arm hung limply at his side, radius, ulna and humerus completely snapped from the elbow joint after the forceful blow his former brother delivered to the fulcrum of his arm, making it bend 180 degrees in the wrong direction. He could hear the haunting sound of the carnival music as the horses continued to prance on their poles, garbled as though he was three feet under water. The blue lights were meant to be bright and cheerful, but all he saw was the hazy halos around the bulbs, throwing a ghoulish glow over everything. It was over, done. That last ditch punch he’d thrown was more of an involuntary response than one that he thought would land any damage, and he wanted the end, wanted the peace, something he never thought he’d long for. 

The glass before him was cracked in several places, and the reflection was one he couldn’t recognize. So much had gone wrong, so much had been broken well past the point of repair. It took everything in him to blink, to raise his eyes to the hate filled pair looking down on him in the mirror, but he did because it was all that was left to do. Frank’s nostrils flared and his chest heaved as he tightened the hold he had on the back of Billy’s head. But as the lights changed from blue to red in his blurred and fading field of vision, he thought he saw something other than hatred in that glare; he thought he saw hesitation. Go on, do it Frankie… I got nothin’ left. 

“Kill me.” He choked, throat and lips slick with blood. 

Billy woke with a gasping cough, half expecting red stains on the pillowcase. Heart racing and adrenaline high, his thoughts threw themselves against the walls of his skull. Frank? He squeezed his eyes shut tying to guard against the onslaught. Frank? Why...why would… The last memory he had of Frank was from overseas, making jokes and giving him shit about settling down with a girl...with you. Frank wouldn’t… that’s...he’s my brother. Pain cut through his head, between his eyes, splitting his brain. I need to know. I need to… to know if… He looked to his left and out the window, quickly noting the sun’s position in the sky. Judging by where it sat between two neighboring buildings, he could tell it was a few minutes earlier than normal, but not so early that he would have to wait. Close enough. “KRISTA!” 

He bellowed her name, voice sounding foriegn to his own ears as it cracked and broke. He hated how reliant he was on her to confirm or deny the things he saw and felt and remembered, despised the way she made him struggle to decipher his dreams while she held all of the answers in that fucking folder. Enough of the fucking games. I need to know. He repeated his shouts until footsteps echoed quickly and he heard the distinct sound of keys jingling in a pocket. Focusing on controlling his breathing and stilling his jittering thigh, he pulled himself up to sit back against the pillows, eyes trained on the turning door handle. 

The last two weeks had been different, memories coming through with more clarity, more detail. He’d found a way to tell the difference between things that happened and things that only happened when he slept. In the dreams, things had a glow around their edges, a misty haze making everything softer. He’d stuck with that theory and had been proven right twice, though he’d been tempted to ignore it when he had the dream about the airport; leaving the terminal alone with his bag, the automatic doors opening up and the gray light of morning hitting the sidewalk...where you stood, the breeze lifting your hair and your smile lifting your cheeks. He tried to forget the shine as he wrapped you in his arms and devoured your sighs, pulling you as close as he could. But that’s not how it happened.

The memories had sharper edges, more refined, more realistic. The memory of a bright screen casting a soft blue light in a semi-dark tent, his badly bruised fingers moving over the keys as he fought the urge to delete the words, staring at them for long minutes before moving the cursor and clicking the send button, then logging off. It would be better for both of us if we don’t see each other for a while. I’ll call you when it’s okay. He couldn’t remember if you’d sent a response, couldn’t fathom a reason for sending you such a curt, final message. But he knew that was what had happened, knew it even before a print out was pulled from that fucking folder and placed in his shaking hands, the exact words he remembered typed out in 12 point font. 

“Why...why do you have this? Why do you have this and, and and the pictures? Why? How do you know about her anyway?” He curled his fist around the paper, crumpling it in his sweaty palm. “Why do you have all this?” 

“Billy, I’m trying to help you put everything back in order.” She answered with a slight tilt to her head as the morning sun streamed in between the cracked window blinds. Bullshit. “I didn’t know you before your accident, didn’t know what your life was like.” You still fuckin’ don’t.  “I needed to know as much about you as I could so I could help you try to understand what happened to you.” Her eyes were calm and her smile was unchanging. 

“Does she know?” He sniffed, nose twitching as he raised the mask, letting it sit on top of his closely cropped hair. “Does she know you’re...you’re digging around in her life like this? Huh?” He widened his eyes and raised one eyebrow, nostrils flaring. “Leave her the fuck alone, Krista. Leave her alone!” He seethed, balling up the email and throwing it forcefully at the floor.  

Still unflinching, Dr. Dumont sat straighter, tilting her chin slightly in the opposite direction. “Alright, Billy, I promise I’ll leave her alone.” She adjusted the file in her lap, neatly tucking the pages back inside before she rose. “I think that’s a good stopping point for today.” Her smile spread, filling her eyes with an almost ominous gleam. “Try to work on connecting what you know, now, Billy. Let go of the things you can’t change, focus on the things that will give you the answers you’re looking for.” With that she’d turned on the ball of her foot and held herself at her full height as she exited the room, the door barely clicking closed before a nurse and an orderly were coming through to keep up with the daily routine.

But this vision with Frank on the carousel, this was in heightened definition. This one sliced through like a razor, no glow, no doubt. Why would Frankie do this to me? Why did I think I had nothin’ left? He knew she had the answers, and he wasn’t letting her leave without getting them this time. 

She burst into his room, eyes wide and lips parted, breathing slightly labored from running down the hall. “Billy?” She was flanked by two guards but she continued walking towards him, ignoring their attempts to stay between her and her patient. “Billy, are you alright? What’s wrong?” 

“You tell me, doc.” He popped his shoulder with a little twist, cocking his head to the side. 

Taking a step closer to his bedside, Krista turned to the guards and waved them off, like she always did. They looked to one another before heading for the door. Billy could still see the backs of their heads through the small window, but for now it was just him and Dumont, and he grinned to himself as she pulled the keys from her pocket. “What do you mean, Billy? Did you have another dream?” She held up the keys as she asked, indicating to him that she was going to undo his cuffs. He nodded slowly, and as soon as one hand was free, he used it to pull the mask off. 

“Yeah. I did. And I got questions for you, Krista.” She unlocked his other wrist and he stood quickly from the bed, crossing the room to the window. He thought he caught a gasp of surprise at his abrupt action, a slight unsettling in her fearless facade. Reaching up, he pulled the chord to raise the blinds, exposing the room to more light, and opening up the view of the bustling street far below. He turned back to the chairs, permanently positioned in front of the window, gesturing to them in a welcoming manner. “Take a seat, let’s talk.” He sat in the seat he always occupied, looking straight ahead at the empty one across from him for a few seconds before turning back to where Krista still stood, watching him closely. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he pointed to the gaping glass hole in the wall. “This...you don’t like this, do you?” 

Krista cleared her throat and came out of the light trance she’d fallen into when he’d sprang from the bed. “It’s fine, Billy, if you want the blinds open, that’s okay.” She walked slowly to her seat, eyes on him as she sank into it, crossing her legs. 

“Bullshit,” he almost laughed through the grin. “I’ve seen the way you don’t get too close. I notice how you never look out. I see these things, Krista.” He watched as she swallowed, a lump moving down her throat. “Sucks, havin’ somethin’ like that right in your face, doesn’t it?” 

“Facing our fears is important, Billy. You’re...you’re right. I am afraid...but I’m working on that fear, just like you’re working on what’s haunting you.” She looked quickly towards the window to prove her point before turning back to face him. “Now, you wanted to talk about something?” 

Another near laugh. “Yeah.” 

She opened her hands. “Where do you want to start, Billy?” 

“Let’s start with Frank Castle.” He noted a flicker of recognition, of alarm cross her eyes. Yeah, that’s what I thought. He brought two fingers up in front of his face, pointing out the jagged scars. “Frank did this to me, didn’t he?” 

“Is that what you remember, Billy?” 

“Enough of your fucking questions.” He gripped the ends of the arm rest, scooting himself closer to the edge of his seat. “Tell me. Tell me Frank did this to me.” 

She had the nerve to shake her head slowly. “You know that’s not how this works. Tell me what you remember, and I’ll tell you if it’s true.” 

Anger rose in his gut and his knuckles strained at his skin as he tightened his grip on the chair. But before he could respond, the memory from his dream cut back through his brain. He tried to blink it away but it kept playing out, blocking out the present and immersing him in that blue light, that blood soaked moment, surrounded by painted horses, Frank ready to deliver him a fatal blow. 

He tossed the knife aside and released his grip on Billy’s blood soaked hair. “I’m not gonna let you die today, Bill. Dyins easy.” With less than half a second’s pause, a boot sole landed squarely between Billy’s shoulder blades, forcing him forward into the shattered mirror. Dull pain erupted across his head and down his spine but before it could fully register, Frank was readying to throw him into the glass again. “You’re gonna learn about pain. You’re gonna learn about loss.” Two more times, Frank slammed Billy’s head against the mirrored wall, his face butchered and sliced, chunks of jagged mirror stuck in the deep lacerations. The music, the lights, everything was gone, replaced by a high pitched ring and the low, gravely sound of Frank’s voice as he stooped down beside Billy. “Every day I look for ‘em Bill. Every morning...and then I remember.” 

Billy blinked. The cracked glass was falling from the frame in front of him, but for the briefest of moments he saw something in what was left of the mirror- he saw you, your arms reaching for him, a sad look on your face. I’m sorry…  He blinked again and you were gone. 

“It’s gonna be the same for you.” Frank threw him hard against the glass then, leaving him slumped in the corner. The crunch of Frank’s boots receded until there was nothing but silence, and Billy closed his eyes, feeling himself letting go. Something on his shoulder stopped him, and he recognized the distinct weight of your hand, the sound of your voice as you sobbed his name and held him close to your chest. “Billy, hold on…” you pleaded. Anything you want.

With a gasp and a cough he shook his head, eyes flying open to take in the white room, doused in daylight. Breaths coming in shallow gulps, his chest heaved under his shirt. Nausea roiled in waves. Was she there? Was she there that night? “Frank...Frank did this...I...I betrayed him...betrayed his family...this,” he pointed to his face, poking at the bullet hole in his cheek. “This was payback...punishment for…” The poking stopped and he scrubbed one hand over his face. Why would I… 

“Frank is the one who did this to you, Billy, yes.” Her voice snapped his focus back up to her face. “He did that to you...and...and you remember why now?” 

I got his family killed… I… He winced, grabbing at his ears as more pieces of memories came tumbling out of the gash in his brain. A phone call, a quickly scribbled note. That email wasn’t the last correspondence that he had with you. 

“I can’t talk long.” 

“Billy?” your voice sounded the same, all those months later, but tinged with a sadness that he wasn’t familiar with. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me, listen, I needed to tell you somethin’...you...you get the flowers?” 

He’d dropped them off himself that afternoon- blue irises, your favorites, his note simple and without his name attached, only three words : I love you. 

“Yeah, Billy...I...they were on my doorstep when I got home, I...Billy, where are you? Can I see you? You...you said you’d call when it was okay and…” 

“No, listen, I need you to stay put, okay? Things are...fuck, I got into some shit and it’s bad. I’m gonna finish it tonight but you...I needed to make sure you knew… in case I...in case somethin’ happens.” 

“Billy, people are asking me about you...police...homeland agents and...and…” he could hear the tears behind your words, and the fear and hurt in your voice twisted his insides. “I haven’t said anything, Billy...I...I don’t know anything...you just… you disappeared...Billy, don’t do this...don’t disappear again, please...please, Billy, I… I love you and...just let me see you, please?” 

“I’ll call you when it’s over. Stay put...okay?” 

“Yeah…” you whispered. “Yeah, Billy… okay…” 

“I told her I got into trouble...somethin’...somethin’ went wrong and I told her I had to…” he squeezed his temples, trying to force the rest of the memory from his mind like a tube of toothpaste.

“What kind of trouble? On deployment?” Krista leaned in, her focus sharp. 

“Yeah… it...we…” he was suddenly hit with a barrage of facts, rattling them off as though he’d had them in his back pocket all along. Operation Cerberus, assassinations, dirty missions, Rawlins, betrayals and killings on U.S. soil...The room spun as he fought to keep himself upright. 

“Billy,” Krista was scribbling hastily on her notepad, eyes wide with shock. “I...we’ll have someone look into all of this right away but..if…” she finished writing, closing her note pad and giving him her full attention, even reaching for his hand. He snatched it away as soon as she made contact. “If any of that is true, we might be able to get some charges against you dropped...if the government is involved in any of this… if” 

“Homeland. She said...she said homeland agents were…” he tapped his fingers against the top of his head. “Were callin’ her and…” 

Krista nodded and the room stopped spinning. “They were...well...one was. Do you… Billy can you recall the agent’s name?” 

He was almost there, approaching the gates around the colorful attraction, the silver moon shining down to light his way, when he heard a pair of hurried footsteps behind him. Gun drawn, he spun, eyes scanning the shadows, quiet save for the gasp in response to his turn. What the… 

“Billy?” You whimpered his name as you stepped closer, hands in front of you. 

He holstered his weapon immediately, crossing the distance with long strides, your name falling from his lips as his heart thundered in his chest. No. No, she can’t be here. “What are you doing here?” he asked, unable to keep his tone steady. “I told you to stay put...I told you to stay home...what happened?” 

Your tears fell as you let him wrap you up, as you let him swipe them from your cheeks. “Billy, I...that agent, the homeland agent...Madani? She, she called me again just...just after you did...said she traced your call to me...said she tracked your phone here. She’s gonna come after you… I...Billy, I had to see you, I had to...I had to make sure you were safe I...I love you, Billy, I...I” 

He cut your words off with his lips, pressing them to yours with the longing that had been building since he left you. The hands that had just held his gun now cradled your face between them, one sliding to the curve around behind your head, the other traveling around to your back, pressing you closer. He gave you everything he had in that kiss, all the love he couldn’t give you, all the things he wasn’t able to say. Tongue moving with yours, he felt that same need rise in his chest that he felt when he’d kissed you in front of the Alice sculpture, felt it fill him completely. Both of your hands were on his face, one earlobe between your fingers as they slid up his jaw. It felt so right, kissing you, holding you under the stars, under the moon. It felt right loving you. But he had to end it, because you shouldn’t be there, shouldn’t be there with him, not when he didn’t know if…

He pulled back, resting his forehead against yours for the briefest of beats while you both took a breath. He whispered your name once more. “You need to go...get out of here, get somewhere safe. Stay there until I call you.” His thumb came to brush your lips as he laid another kiss to them. “Please. Please, you need to go…” 

“Billy...I’m scared, I…” 

“Please!” his voice was louder than he meant for it to be, heart hammering. Someone’s gonna hear us...someone’s gonna see… 

You choked but nodded. “Okay… okay Billy...I...I love you...I needed to see you...I…” 

“I know. I know...Now, go...please…” He kissed you one last time and waited until you disappeared back in the direction that you came from. 

Good. Good, she’s gone, she’s...she’ll be safe… 

The fight with Frank. Guns and knives, fists and attacks. A ricochet in his peripheral as he spun to see the agent you’d warned him about, taking his shot, aiming for her head. Another ricochet as Frank misjudged Billy’s location, a trick of the mirrors and lights, of the bobbing horses and the painted dragons. A moan, then and the call of his name… too soon after that second ricochet...too soon after Frank had fired. He looked in the direction it came from and saw. His heart thudded to a jarring stop. No. No. No, no no no. He shouted the word and it became an unintelligible scream, it turned into rage, into blinding, red rage and he recklessly threw himself into the fight. He killed her. He shot her, she’s…

You were laying on the ground, close to Madani, and he could see the wound he’d given her on the temple. She was still alive, though bleeding badly and unconscious. But when his eyes dropped you, he saw the hole in your chest, saw the blank stare and the stillness of your body. He saw you and he knew. 

She’s gone…   

He stood, stepping towards Krista. “You knew.” 

“What?” She looked up at him, questioning him with her words and her eyes. “KNew...knew what, Billy?” 

He pointed to the file in her hands. “You knew...you knew she’s…” he tore the file from her grasp then, pages flying from it as he tossed it into the chair he’d vacated. “She’d dead...she’s…” saying the words aloud made his throat close, made his vision blurr sent searing, burning pain through his entire body, emanating from his skull. “Frank did this to me… he killed her he…” he turned on her. “And you fucking knew.” 

“Yes...yes, okay...okay, Billy, yes, I knew...I-” 

“Get up.” He snarled the words, tears in his eyes and hatred in his heart. She stood, hands shaking. One came up, tentatively reaching for him, but he wasted no time in wrapping his fingers bone crushingly tight around her wrist, yanking her towards the window. She yelped quietly, knowing that now that he had a hand on her he was in charge. She could call for the guards but not before he snapped her neck. “Tell me what you know. Now.” 

“She was found a few feet from the carousel, Billy, a few feet from where forensics determined that Agent Madani had been shot...she was probably right behind her she… they said she died instantly...there was no suffering…” 

“You knew. You knew she was...she was dead...all this fucking time…” his voice was uneven but he kept it quiet, kept from drawing unwanted attention through that window in his door. “And you made me play your games...you made me…”

“We needed to get as much information as we-” 

“Fuck your information, Krista,” he growled. “You knew… you…” 

Something broke in him then, as your face filled his mind, smiling in the sun, streaked with tears in the moonlight, splattered in blood and staring, unseeing at the ponies. With another yank on her wrist, he pulled Dr. Dumont close and spun behind her, muscle memory aiding in his swift motions. His free hand covered her mouth so she couldn’t scream as he walked her right up against the window, forcing her to look down at the street. Letting go of her wrist, that arm snaked beneath her chin, elbow tightening as his forearm and bicep crossed her own arm over her windpipe. He gripped his own shoulder and squeezed, keeping his hand over her mouth as she spasmed against his chest, as her nails clawed at his arms. He squeezed as her wild eyes grew wider and wider before she went limp, squeezing a few seconds longer, counting in his head to that magic number he’d learned back in boot camp: the magic number of seconds it took to kill someone with a blood choke. 

He dropped her body in a heap as his rage crashed and flowed and ebbed and diminished. 

You were gone... he was right...he had nothing left. But Frank didn’t even let him have that. He didn’t even let him fail. He didn’t let him go with you… 

He bent to pick up the pages that had flown from Krista’s file, sticking them inside the folder and tucking it into his sweatshirt. The door opened and the two guards burst in but Billy made short work of them, adrenaline high and fists and arms moving on their own. In no time at all he found himself on the street… his file in his hands and a new mission in his mind. 

He’d been trying to find you, and he did. 

Now he needed to find one more person. 

Now he needed to find Frank. 

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @thebbtongue @lexxierave @thesumofmychoices @gollyderek @zaffrenotes @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @lysawayne @audreychaz @roses-in-your-country-house @traeumerinwitzhelden @luminex3 @songtoyou @songforhema @ymariejp @belladonnarey @breanime @stories-you-wont-hear

*thank you for tolerating this madness. there’s more to come, as always. ;) RED coming soon.*

[fire-the-headcanons]

Lionheart chuckled. "No, you're supposed to respect them as dangerous opponents to the work we do. Five of these tribes still operate in Anima today, though their influence is nowhere near what it once was. You may find this lesson a little more… practical than most."

Gods. It had to come up eventually—Huntsmen didn't just fight Grimm. They knew when they signed up there would be lessons on… on killing bandits… But the second month of school? Some luck.

Qrow watched the professor through his bangs as Lionheart set the chalk on the tray and folded his arms behind his back, tail swishing slowly behind him as always.

"They're just bandits," the same girl said.

Follow the Beacon Qrow—Doomed to Repeat It

[Link to Masterpost]

[TW: child abuse, abuse, PTSD, anxiety, panic attacks. A lot happens here. I think I got all relevant warnings. Summary at the bottom as always.]

[In Volume 5, Yang mopped the floor with the cousins Branwens without breaking a sweat, but in World of Remnant Qrow also described the bandits as being surprisingly competent. This is why I have a few good fighters leading the tribe, and the rest are just opportunistic a*holes. 

 Anyways, here you go! Have a pile of my angstiest headcanons...]

"…letting Vale rebuild the southern wall. On to Anima—does anyone know what was happening in Mistral during the Xan Era?" Lionheart asked, glancing over his shoulder as his chalk hovered an inch from the board.

"The Bandit Queen!" someone shouted. "I love that movie!"

Qrow's pen froze in his notebook. Had he misheard? But no, Raven stopped too. 

"Yes, well, I'm afraid the film embellishes some details," Lionheart chuckled, writing THE GREATER BANDIT WAR on the board. "But yes, that is the general idea. Bandits have always been a problem in Anima, much more than in Sanus. Any ideas as to why?"

"…Well, Anima has a lot more villages outside the main kingdom than Sanus." 

"It does. Anima’s climate is far milder and more predictable. Homesteading outside of the kingdom has always been easier, and sadly in the case of banditry more prey means more predators."

The pen shook in Qrow's hand as he copied what Lionheart was writing on the board. He'd been having an okay day until now...

"Historians agree it was actually a drought that began the war. Crops failed, and people began to congregate in the cities—especially in Mistral. As Marin mentioned, there were six major tribes roaming Anima at the time, and they quickly found themselves with no one to take food from."

"What, are we supposed to feel sorry for them?" someone grumbled from the third row.

Lionheart chuckled. "No, you're supposed to respect them as dangerous opponents to the work we do. Five of these tribes still operate in Anima today, though their influence is nowhere near what it once was. You may find this lesson a little more… practical than most."

Gods. It had to come up eventually—Huntsmen didn't just fight Grimm. They knew when they signed up there would be lessons on… on killing bandits… But the second month of school? Some luck.

Qrow watched the professor through his bangs as Lionheart set the chalk on the tray and folded his arms behind his back, tail swishing slowly behind him as always.

"They're just bandits," the same girl said. Tiffany? That was her name, right?

"Bandit tribes are the second-best fighters on Remnant, after Huntsmen," Lionheart warned. "And you cannot afford to take them lightly. I am from Anima, I fought plenty before I took up teaching."

"What makes them so dangerous?" someone else asked.

Lionheart smiled. "That is precisely the sort of question you should be asking to get the most from this subject. But to answer it—bandits are just as practiced in the use of aura as any Huntsman or Huntress, and every single one has had their Semblance unlocked since the age of five."

The class broke into astonished mutters and whispers, and Qrow looked down at his notes again. "How's that possible?"

"The tribes have some… unique practices. Some anthropologists go so far as to call it a religion—they justify their actions through a simple code: 'the strong live, the weak die'."

Qrow's stomach curdled.

"Most of you found your Semblances in a moment of need, or intense emotion, correct?" Lionheart continued. "In order to make their people stronger, they do not train their children to generate a defensive aura until after their Semblance is unlocked." More shocked whispers from the students. "As Semblances frequently manifest during times of duress… if a bandit has not found theirs by the age of five, they face a trial of some kind—most often beatings—until they do, or die trying.”

He dropped the pen and folded his hands under the desk so no one would see them shaking. Next to him Raven continued to scratch out notes. But it had been easier for her—Raven’s portals were obvious, showy, and manifested within a few minutes. It hadn't taken the tribe any time at all to figure out what she could do. 

...Maybe if he'd been allowed to discover his Semblance naturally, he'd be able to control it.

“That’s barbaric!”

"True, but remember their code, 'the strong live, the weak die'." Lionheart's voice dragged his attention back to the current danger. "If a bandit does not have a Semblance, the tribesmen see them as unfit to survive. And while cruel, it is effective—the practice is one reason the tribes persist to this day.” 

His tail lashed as he began to pace in front of his desk. "Another is their hit-and-run tactics… raiding a village generates a lot of negative emotions, and will almost always draw in the Creatures of Grimm. Huntsmen sent to aid the town are frequently too occupied fending them off to catch the bandits before they disappear into the wilderness."

He turned to the other chalkboard, the one with the permanent map of Remnant, and began to draw lines across Anima. "The tribes each have their own territory, bordered by natural barriers just like the kingdoms, preventing them from fighting with each other too much. Since the Great War and the founding of the Huntsman academies, the territory that contains Mistral was cleared when the Mathon tribe was wiped out."

Bones had been furious. The tribe burned three villages to the ground without even taking anything, and Qrow and Raven earned their brands a year early.

Please. Please, just let the bell ring.

"The other tribes have weakened considerably as well, particularly those close to Mistral. As technology has improved, so have our response times. The current council is hopeful that the rest of the tribes will fall before the end of this era, and have dedicated significant resources to fighting them. …Mister and Miss Taupe, you are from Anima, correct?" 

Qrow's blood froze. Every eye in the room was staring directly at them.

"Do you know which tribe was active near your home?"

He didn't look up. The question hung in the air, demanding an answer. Raven was shaking, he could feel through the bench. He swallowed and croaked out, "Branwen."

"Ah, hem, yes," Lionheart said. "In the Xan Era, the Branwen tribe was the largest of the six…"

* * *

The bell rang, mercifully cutting off the discussion of battle tactics during the sacking of Mistral. Lionheart glanced at the clock in surprise, finally returning to the present. "We got a little off-track there, didn't we?" he chuckled, finally setting down his chalk. 

Qrow and Raven hurriedly shoved their things into their bags as he continued. "Make sure you've read chapter three in the textbook. Instead of a write-up, let's do an essay comparing the modern tribes to their Xan Era counterparts—you'll find some information on the contemporary tribes in chapter seventy-eight, but use at least a few additional sources and cite them appropriately. I’ll set the due date at the end of the month—"

"How about after Halloween?"

"Ah, yes. I'll post the specifics online tonight. Class dismissed."

Raven took off, almost running for the door and disappearing through. None of the other students seemed to notice as they gathered their things, but Lionheart was staring. Qrow just busied himself with writing the assignment down.

"I'm sorry." Qrow jumped—the professor had moved right in front of his desk. "I didn't consider whether you may have encountered the tribes before."

Qrow stared at him, frozen, uncomprehending.

“But, I suppose everyone in Anima's lost someone to bandits or the Grimm attacks they cause. Particularly the Huntsmen…“

"…Our parents,"  he lied.

He nodded, eyes closing for a moment. "The Branwens are particularly vicious.” Qrow’s hand tightened on his bag. “If I may offer a word of advice, young man… if you came here to get revenge, do not underestimate them."

His mouth went bitterly dry. "Have you…met…"

"A very long time ago. Probably before you were born. Please, pass my apology on to your sister?"

"Yes, sir." Qrow slung his bag over his shoulder and headed down the stairs, but Lionheart caught him as he passed.

"It's good to have you here with us." He gently squeezed before letting go and turning toward his desk.

Qrow forced himself not to run from the room, and went to find Raven.

[Summary— Lionheart has a history lesson on the bandit tribes of Anima and triggers Qrow's PTSD while also terrifying Raven. Bones was not a good person. Lionheart assigns an essay, due at the end of the month, on the difference between the historical tribes and the modern ones.]

Next Chapter: Taiyang—HATCHING a Plan

[nightfuryobsessed]

17. That's new

Previous

Next (WIP)

The next day was mostly uneventful, at least the morning walk to school. Cerin had eased up on Kaida and let her run around the packhouse, simply watching her and making sure she didn't try to run off. Though, always getting nervous once she ran behind the house.

During the walk to school, Cerin left the cuffs off Kaida's wrist but did give her a small bracelet. It was simple enough, silver with a few simple gems and decently sturdy. It was slightly confusing until Kaida lifted it closer to look at in greater detail, then saw a small cut in the metal.

A tracker.

Well, at least it won't raise anyone's suspicion, and it could go with a lot of clothes...and most importantly, it gave Kaida some of her freedom back. Somehow, Cerin knew what jewelry went well with most clothes.

Not that it was too hard, there's hundreds of silver jewelry so it'd be easy for him to figure it out.

______________

First-class went over very well, no issues, no one trying anything with Kaida. Just a few women trying to flirt with Cerin, who had now moved back to his normal seat.

Like normal, Kaida ignored the stares and whispers, rolling her eyes before getting back to work. The math, for now, was simple, her late entrance to new math classes giving her time with the teacher to get notes and copy them into her own notebook.

Once the bell rang, Kaida stood up, gathered her things, gave back the teacher's notes, then walked out to go to her next period. She had gotten a new schedule and felt safe enough to go to her next class without issues despite the schedule being completely different than her standard one.

"Hey, whore," a loud, booming female voice called.

Well...it was bound to happen eventually.

Kaida sighed before turning, growling as she was pushed against the wall by a practical hooker. Her crop top was way too small for her huge breasts, her skirt was so small she was practically flashing everyone, and her jewelry directed all attention to her body and frame.

Rebecka. Fun.

"Stay the fuck away from my alpha," the woman growls. Her scent, protective nature, and agitation meant that she was a werewolf. As if her eyes and body didn't give that away. Werewolves had a naturally superior appearance...at least, for humans. Kaida honestly couldn't care less.

"He's not yours, he's unmated. Given his scent, he's never had sex with anyone, and he doesn't seem like he will any time soon. Now would you kindly, fuck off," the woman hisses, baring her teeth at the other woman, wanting all werewolves to stop touching her.

What was with werewolves pushing her against the walls like this?

By now a small crowd was forming around the two, laughing and encouraging the female werewolf, telling her to teach Kaida a lesson and get rid of her.

Typical.

Kaida rolled her eyes, growling when Rebecka raised her fist and swung for the woman's face. The hybrid took this time to quickly kick her away, using her weight and center of mass to get the other woman away from her.

"Don't ever, fucking touch me again. Got it?"

"You bitch," the werewolf growled, readying herself to fight while Kaida took in their surroundings. There were boys around the two women, shouting and encouraging the fight, a few girls watching in the crowd, a few adults, staff, maybe even the principle given the scents. No one who would try actually breaking the fight up.

The young hybrid growled as she opened her wings, scaring a few of the boys behind her. She heard them move away, probably because of how her wings curved and took up a lot of space. At least, for werewolves, it took up a lot of space.

Rebecka growled before rushing forward, her claws sharp and outstretched, leaving herself open for attack. The young warrior smirked before turning, her tail rising to get between the opponent's ankles and legs, tripping her and making her fall flat on her face.

Kaida stood tall as her wings rose, trembling, a way to disorient Rebecka and the werewolves around them. So far, it seemed to be working since no one was doing anything.

"If any of you try touching me again, I won't hesitate-" Kaida shouted as someone grabbed her tightly, putting their large, meaty hand on her mouth and their other arm around her torso and wings. She struggled and bit the, who she assumed to be, boy's hand, her tail wildly swinging when she noticed movement. Some of the jocks were getting closer.

This wasn't good.

________

Just as Kaida was about to get her hundredth punch, she felt someone pull her out of the boy's pit of death and held her close, a deep and powerful growl rumbling through their chest making her relax and lower her wings after so long. She panted softly as she relaxed against Cerin's chest as he glared at the other students around them.

"From this moment on, whoever attempts to harm Kaida, one of our strongest warriors, will be sentenced to fifty days of warrior volunteer work. Understood," he growled, glaring at the students, who begrudgingly nodded with their heads hung low.

Cerin grumbled to himself before gently draping Kaida's arm over his shoulders and walked her to the nurse's office, ignoring their glares as he took supplies and started tending to Kaida's wounds. At least, the visible ones.

"Those bastards did a number on you. You sure you're a warrior," he asks in a teasing tone. Kaida rolled her eyes and gave a curt laugh before wincing, then relaxed as Cerin put an ice pack on her eye.

"Thanks. And if you weren't sure, just look at those fucker's hands and legs...maybe even their sides They'll have fun taking care of all the bruises, cuts, and bite marks. Especially since I have 'rabies'. You know, it's funny. I never would have thought the alpha's son would try helping me. 'Fight your own fights' and such...but thanks. I can barely see right now, so...just...thanks."

Cerin smiled softly before carefully cleaning the woman's busted lip and some simple scrapes and cuts the jocks had caused. It won't be too hard to fix up and heal, especially with Kaida's 'powers'. But still, he'd do what he could to help her. Even if he's meant to hate her, he just couldn't.

'Mate.'

[olivenight17]

Tanktop Master x Reader “Never Meet Your Heroes”

Holy moly this one was a doozy, I’ll tell you that much. So, this was requested by @ireaderstuff and I have to say, as my first request this was really interesting! I always write for the side characters because I always fall for them, so it was nice to have a request asking this of me. And Tanktop Master is just such a good guy, I had a lot of fun writing for him. Well, I hope this was to your liking, I’m sorry if I wrote him out of character and I’m sorry this took so long! School has had me busy studying for finals so it’s been a while since I had time to work on it. The next one I’ll be working on is She-Ra (hopefully in a much quicker time span), so watch out for that. Enjoy!

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They say never meet your heroes.

It was a motto you believed wholeheartedly. Citizens saw what heroes did on camera, but  who knew what they were like behind the scenes? Just because they saved people, didn’t mean their intentions were always good. But, they saved the world from complete destruction and no matter their intentions, you were always grateful for that.

Living in the most inner parts of the city, you were privy to seeing villain attacks on a daily basis. It was always fun and games, unless the attack damaged your apartment, and in this case it did.

You sighed, this was not what you needed right now. Work had already been tough on you for the last week and you really needed to go home and destress. So much for that. You picked around the rubble of your apartment building, trying to find any remnants of your things. The only things found were tattered clothing and a broken picture of your family.

Hastily picking them up and placing them in your bag, you began making your way out when a heavy hand was placed on your shoulder. Spinning around, you were faced with a torso. You almost had to take a step backwards to look at the tall man in front of you. He had cropped blond hair, brown eyes and was wearing a tanktop.

Then it dawned on you. “So, you’re the one who aided in wrecking my apartment?” You asked nonchalantly.

He seemed taken aback by the question but slowly nodded his head. “Yes, I came to apologize for the damage caused. I’m more than willing to give you any money necessary for staying somewhere else.” He offered, making you pause in your bitterness.

Very rarely had you heard heroes apologizing for the damages, much less offering to pay for them. The look he was giving you was so sincere too, maybe he actually meant-

“Tanktop Master! Give us details on the daring battle you went through!”

“What is your relationship to the person next to you?”

The press flooded in almost immediately and you flinched at the flashing lights of their cameras. “She’s a victim of the building I destroyed, I was simply trying to repay her for ruining her home.”

“Wow, you are truly thoughtful, Tanktop Master! Hey miss, what do you have to say?”

“Yeah, will you accept his generous offer?”

You refrained from snarling at them and shook your head, hoisting your bag further up your arm. “No, I won’t. It’s kind, but I can get by just fine. Good day,” You replied before walking away. Of course, the kindness was only for the cameras. It was stupid of you to think otherwise.

Your walk picked up into a jog as the press continued on, pestering you with more questions and flashing lights. You raised your hand to block the light. It needed to stop, this was too much for you.

Then, a shadow loomed in front, blocking the paparazzi. “Leave her be, she’s just trying to get out. I will answer any questions you may have at this time.” You stared up at him, was he still seriously trying to act like a good person? Fine, whatever, at least he got them off your back.

You disappeared as much as you so possibly could, taking out your phone and texting a friend. They had decided to let you stay in their apartment until you got settled again and you thanked them fervently.

But even after you relocated, you still saw that guy around. You found out his name was Tanktop Master, he was an S-class hero and the leader of the Tank Topper Army, but that was about it. The man kept his life relatively private to the public save for the vast majority of articles and videos of him. You hadn’t found any videos with you in it, surprising considering how many times you’d see him around. You had simply taken to ignoring it, he wasn’t trying to draw attention and he never personally went up to you so you let it be.

Though there were some instances that he did appear.

“Hey, where you goin’?” You whipped around at the sound of your co-worker’s leering voice and tried to breathe.

“I’m going back to my apartment. My job is over, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You said as calmly as possible.

You turned to walk down the steps and onto the street, but he grabbed you by the wrist. “Come on, you always go straight home, why not let me take you out on a date? It’ll be fun, I promise.” He insisted and you clenched your fist, reminding yourself it wouldn’t be wise to hit him.

“I told you a million times already, Makoto. I don’t date coworkers, now let go of me!” You tried to yank your wrist out of his hand, but it didn’t budge.

The grip became stronger and you winced at the force. The smirk on Makoto’s face was gone and a scowl replaced it. “Now, I don’t think that’s very fair. I’ve been nothing but nice. Don’t I deserve something?” He tugged you closer and you shook your head.

“You don’t deserve shit, you pig! Get your hands off of me before I scream,” You ordered. Your gaze became steely as his glare met your own.

Makoto still hadn’t let go of you and you were about to swing your foot into his shin when suddenly, his face went pale. He let go of your wrist, took a hesitant step back and was it just you or had the sky gotten darker?

He apparently wasn’t looking at you, so you turned around and was met with a familiar blue clothed chest. Tanktop Master stared down at your coworker with a malice you hadn’t seen from him before. Before Makoto could even stutter, the tall blond spoke up. “I would hope there isn’t any trouble going on, is there?” Makoto frantically shook his head, any words he could have said completely escaped him. “And there will continue to be no trouble?”

“Yes sir, absolutely sir!” He squeaked out and tried to side step Tanktop.

He stood still for a moment longer before stepping to the side. “Good,” He finally moved and Makoto quickly scrambled down the steps and down the road. When he was out of sight, Tanktop turned to you. “Are you alright, not seriously injured?” He stepped forward to take a look at your wrist but you weren’t as concerned about that.

No, you were more preoccupied looking for hidden cameras. Tanktop noticed and cocked his head, looking around. “Did you see something?”

“No, I’m looking for the hidden camera guy you have in order to use this as a publicity stunt.” You answered simply, pushing apart some of the bushes near the staircase. There was no one there and you started looking up, maybe they were in the trees.

Meanwhile, the tall blond merely stood shocked at your statement. “You… you think this is a publicity stunt?” He asked, completely dumbfounded.

You nodded. “It makes sense now. I gave you trouble with the press, so you decided to follow me and wait until I got into trouble to save me and have someone post the footage. That way the press can swarm me once again and force me to be grateful to you while you get praised left and right for being such a great hero,” You explained. He continued to look at you in surprise and you shrugged. “Sorry bud, you’re not as clever as you think you are. If you don’t mind, I really want to get home.” Giving a half-hearted wave, you took off down the street.

But, you were stopped when he jogged up to you. You sighed, beyond annoyed with his behavior. “Wait! I think this is a misunderstanding, let me explain. Please, just hear me out and then I will do my best to stay clear of you.” Tanktop pleaded and you hesitated before stopping.

“Fine, you’ve got five minutes. Then I’m leaving.” You replied curtly, crossing your arms.

He sighed in relief before talking. “First of all, none of what just happened was for publicity. I live in this area of town so when I’m not called away for work I just do my own patrol here. I was walking by, saw what was going on and I didn’t want to see you get hurt so I stepped in.”

Your eyes narrowed. “I doubt you just happened to be walking by, almost every time I’m out somewhere you’re just there. So what, do you normally stalk the people you save?”

Tanktop Master almost recoiled at the venom in your words and he paused for a moment. “No, no I don’t. I just recognized you from the attack. I’ll admit I shadowed you for a bit the first few times to make sure everything was going smoothly for you, but beyond that, it was coincidence. I’m truly sorry if you felt my behavior was inappropriate,” He explained quietly.

Looking into his eyes, it seemed like there was genuine guilt. You felt a pang of regret for being as harsh as you were. “Well, I still have to admit it was kind of creepy, but I’m being harder on you than what’s really deserved. I’m sorry, I just don’t trust heroes. It’s hard to know what’s real and what’s for the press, y’know?” You looked downwards and scuffed your shoe against the ground.

There was silence for a moment before Tanktop Master spoke up. “Well, if you’d let me, I’d like to change your viewpoint,” He offered.

You hesitated, debating whether or not this would be a good idea. “This isn’t a trick, is it? You’re not going to use me and then dump me when I don’t have anything else to offer?” You questioned, risking a glance up at his gentle brown eyes.

He shook his head and put his hand to his heart. “Not on my life, or on my tank top would I ever do such a thing. I swear to you.” You bit your lip, hoping you wouldn’t regret this as you agreed.

And no, you didn’t regret it one bit.

The more you hung out with Tanktop Master, the more you noticed your skepticism fading. He introduced you to many different heroes who truly weren’t in it to pretend to be great while hiding dirty secrets. You had even become friends with some of his army. It was mainly Tanktop Girl, but you also found yourself hanging around Tanktop Vegetarian, especially after his fight with Garou. They rubbed off on you so much, you even started wearing more tank tops. After months of spending time with them and getting to know them, they really brought you out of your shell.

Of course, the man to thank for it all, was Tanktop Master.

Out of all the heroes you had met through him, there was always some part of you that wanted to cling to him. He had brought you out of your cynicism on heroes and to you, he was the very definition of what a hero was supposed to be. Maybe he wasn’t the strongest, but unlike what you had thought before, he had a heart of pure gold. He truly only wanted to do good for the people and keep them safe. Getting to know him really brought in the human aspect of heroes and you appreciated it so much.

Eventually, you found him on your mind more than half the day and realized you had really begun to miss him a lot more than usual when he was called to work. So, it was time to tell him.

Your shaky finger tapped his shoulder one day while he was training. His head turned and softened into a heart-warming smile when his gaze landed on you. “Ah, (Y/N), you surprised me,” He chuckled.

You grinned nervously back at him. “Yeah, I guess. I’m sorry to interrupt your work-out and all, but can we talk?” You asked him and he nodded almost immediately.

“Of course, anything for you. Let me just set this weight down first.” The blond went off, carrying the large weight with him and suddenly your stomach exploded into butterflies.

Maybe this was a mistake, seriously take a look at the guy. He’s caring, kind, handsome and definitely more than well muscled. He could date anyone in this entire country. For fuck’s sake you basically thought of him as no less as a dirty liar when you first met him! There was no way he was picking you. If you run fast enough, you might be able to make it out of the room before he-

“(Y/N), are you okay? Your face is flushed and you’re sweating a bit.”

Your train of thought was interrupted at the sound of Tanktop Master in front of you, making you almost jump a foot in the air. He gave you a strange look and you let out a high pitched laugh. “Yes, perfectly fine! No need to worry!” You stuttered out, gripping the edge of your shirt tightly.

Tanktop didn’t look convinced. “There’s no need to lie. I can tell something’s bothering you, you can tell me. I’m not going to judge or laugh if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Sighing, you shook your head. “No, I know you wouldn’t,” You chuckled, a hint of sadness laced within it. “Of course you wouldn’t. That’s just it. You’re basically perfect and I’m, well, me…” You sucked in a breath. This was stupid, you shouldn’t have come.

The man simply tipped his head to the side. “What’s wrong with that? I personally find you amazing, (Y/N). You’re a strong, intelligent and kind woman.”

“I’m not any of those things, if I was then I wouldn’t have been so close minded.” You scoffed. The ground was suddenly far more interesting than anything else in the world.

But, you weren’t allowed to look at it long before your head was tipped back up to face Tanktop. “You were before, but you changed. You’re a better person now.”

“Tank, you know I’m not. Don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying, (Y/n).”

“Yes you are! How can you say those things are true?”

“Because I love you!” The response cut through the air and easily quieted both of you. His gaze shifted away from you and he let his hand fall back to his side. “I mean, I…” He trailed off before sighing and looking back at you. “It’s true. You always caught my eye since the beginning. You have such a fiery personality, but it always turns to kindness in the end, and you’re so passionate in everything you do I just couldn’t help it. Now, you don’t have to accept my-” He was cut off when you pulled him down by his tank top and kissed him hard.

Once the initial shock faded, he kissed back, lips moving in perfect harmony to yours. It felt perfect to you, and by the time you both pulled away, you were shining with love for this man all over again. “I love you too, Tank. That’s what I was actually coming over to talk to you about. But then, I got nervous.” Giving him a sheepish grin, you rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly.

He only smiled and pulled you into a hug. “Well, it’ll be my job to make sure you never feel that nervous with me again. And I’m more than happy doing so.”

They say never meet your heroes.

But who said they were right?

[tasharii]

Your Colors: Ch.3.

A/N: This was one giant chapter, I ended up breaking it up into 2. That’s why it took so long to get it done. Sorry for the wait!

Feedback helps me keep going. So please let me know what you think!

Summary:  Art was the one good thing between college, work, and the grey minutes in-between. Sometimes, it felt like she wasn’t alive at all. Just drifting. When she joined her new art class, she never expected to start experiencing everything in an entirely new light. All thanks to him. Or: Where Bucky Barnes gets more than he bargained from his new drawing partner.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 8.5k

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, some angst

Masterlist

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7  Chapter 8  Chapter 9  Chapter 10   Chapter 11  Chapter 12  Chapter 13

****

It was raining outside. A slushy mix of rain and snow. Freezing more as the temperature swiftly dropped. The pattering beat echoed throughout the studio, along with the occasional crash of thunder. Y/N really needed to leave, but he hadn’t said anything yet. Class ended five minutes ago, but he was still silently standing in front of her final. It was displayed on its very own easel at the front of the room. Framed, and exposed for the first time.

Part of her still couldn’t believe that she had managed to finish it. The headache pounding behind her eyes and, obnoxiously, tall thermos of coffee sitting on her desk, reminded her that it wasn’t an easy accomplishment. Three days of straight, grueling work. After her study of Bucky’s arm on Friday, she drew like a whirlwind of crazy. Even dragged her project to the library during work and inked in details between helping customers.

They had agreed to keep their finals a surprise. It was kind of like a competition. Despite having seen every other piece up to this point, it was fun to try and surprise him.

Now she was starting to wonder if she had surprised him a little too much.

When Y/N got up in the front of the class to talk about the project, she was too nervous to look at him. She focused solely on her teacher, and answered everyone’s questions about her motivation, inspiration, and why she did what she did. It happened so fast that she had completely missed his reaction. After she went back to where she had been standing beside him, she kept glancing over to him for any response. She didn’t want to interrupt the next presenter, so she stayed quiet. All he offered her, when he noticed her looking, was a small smile and soft whisper of ‘Good job’ against her ear.

That wasn’t what she had been looking for.

Bucky had gone a few presentations after her, and she still couldn’t get over how damned talented he was.

Bucky didn’t appear the least bit nervous when he got up in front of everyone. He was confident, at ease, and put on his million-watt smile that she could only assume came from working in customer service. It was a pretty stark contrast to his normally quiet, reserved nature when he was in class. She noticed a couple of the other students seemed a bit surprised at the difference.

Carefully, he pulled his framed piece out of its black carrying case and placed it on his easel. For a few minutes he stood beside it quietly. Tall and broad in his long-sleeved plaid shirt, and dark washed jeans. Hair perfectly tussled. Naturally, he was handsome, and sharp even in simple clothes.

Y/N gathered around with the rest of the class in a semi-circle at the front of the room. Mr. Ramsey took critiquing seriously and made sure everyone participated. Her heart stopped as she stared at the beautifully illustrated charcoal piece. It was of a woman. Cropped to focus on her torso, and the little baby she held in her arms. She was smiling sweetly down at her child and didn’t seem to even notice the viewer. The shadows were deep to accent the halo glow coming from the subjects, and it almost looked like a photograph.

Right then, she knew this had to be Bucky’s mother. Y/N didn’t know much about her. He only ever spoke about her once, when she talked about her own. All she knew was that his mother had died when he was twelve. Left his father behind to raise one son and a daughter.

After a couple quiet minutes of everyone taking the picture in, Mr. Ramsey finally spoke up “Obviously this is a beautiful piece. Why don’t you tell us a bit about it? Where you got the idea, why you chose charcoal, and what was the hardest part?”

Bucky shifted his feet, folding his hands in front of him as he peeked over at the drawing thoughtfully “Um… I think the hardest part was choosing to draw her at all. I haven’t seen my mom since I was little. So, it’s hard to remember her. I wanted to do something that made me have to think about her. Made me feel closer to her. And while working on this, I started to remember her a little better.” He smiled sadly, and cleared his throat, studying his peers. Nervousness hidden just below the surface. She didn’t think anyone else even noticed how tense he was.

Y/N met his eyes and gestured encouragingly for him to continue. Bucky gave her a grateful nod in return and spoke back up “This was something I’ve been putting off for a while. I just haven’t had the guts to really work on it. Until lately.” He stared at her pointedly then, and she wondered if this was one of the things he had thanked her for before. She wasn’t sure what she did to give him courage, but, if she did, she was glad.

 Of course, when Mr. Ramsey had went around asking for critics, and opinions, she was first in line to give Bucky an earful. Pointedly gave an in-depth critic with things he might have done differently, but mostly with heartfelt compliments. A courtesy he hadn’t given to her.

Slowly, she shouldered her backpack and finally decided to just approach him. He hadn’t moved, but most of the class was gone. Leaving them alone with Ramsey in the back, writing reports for each project. She weaved her way through the series of desks and stepped up to his left. A line of easels stood side by side. Each held a different student’s work. They formed a line in front of the marker board that Mr. Ramsey sometimes used. It took up the entire front wall. There were still instructions left up there for their watercolor homework. They were supposed to practice with backgrounds.

Her easel was closer to the right, near the door. Coming to stand beside him, she surveyed her work for the millionth time. Ink had ended up being the final medium. She knew it would after practicing his arm in it a couple times. The drawing was like the sketch of him in her window. Same facial expression. Same bared arm, but he was wearing a ripped white shirt. His jaw was bruised, and he was lounging on her couch. One leg propped up against the armrest, the other off on the floor, right arm draped against the back of the couch, and metal one casually holding a glass of coke near his mouth. Shirt bloody, pants dirty, and hair absolutely wrecked. His bright eyes were on the viewer. Once again daring them to look.

It was a mixture of different poses she had done of him. When asked why she chose this, she had answered “I wanted to draw something human. Something that people could relate to in a million different ways.” It was more than that, of course. An emotional artist at heart, this piece also helped her vent out everything from that night. All the hurt and fear poured out into every single black line.

“So, something human?” Bucky’s voice jarred her from her stupor. She swallowed the nervous lump in her throat as he continued, “You really think people can relate to a guy with a mechanical limb?” He turned his head, eyes flickering between her face and the drawing.

She shuffled the warm thermos in her hands and nodded “Ya, I do. Being human hurts. Everyone loses something while experiencing it. Doesn’t have to be a limb.” She swallowed again, and finally looked at him as she spoke. Her voice was soft but strong, determined to make her point. He was staring at her intently, arms crossed. His bag hung across his chest, resting on his hip. “Different people lose different things. Their confidence, creativity, someone they loved, or even their heart. Doesn’t always equal out to the same hurt. But it’s still painful.”

“No one can completely lose their heart.” Bucky mused, and he was smiling, but it was such a sad smile. It highlighted the tired shadows under his eyes. She could feel a mirroring one on her face “Just takes a while to come back when it’s been hurt.”

Part of her yearned for him to be right. But she had been waiting for her own to come back for a long time. Even if it did, she didn’t know if she would trust to ever let someone have it again. Sometimes, in the quiet moments at night when she couldn’t sleep, it didn’t feel like she even had a heartbeat. Instead, a heavy void pressed down inside her ribcage. All consuming.

Bucky let out a loud raspberry, smacking his lips together. Then waved to the drawing, hand slapping against his leg as he dropped his arm “Well! It’s beautiful.” He laughed loudly, breaking up the tension “Best damn picture I’ve ever seen of myself.”

Y/N smiled wider, the air feeling lighter. It was easier to breathe, “Ya think so? Cause, well, your chin was a bitch.” She grinned as the familiar joke left her, and thumbed open her thermos, taking a drink of the coffee. It was still hot. The heat curled soothingly in her stomach and the smell of coffee comforted her.

Ramsey’s unamused glare burned the back of her neck. Probably wanted them to leave him in peace and quiet. She ignored him. Heat blew down from the vent above them, spurred on by the cold pressing against the brick outside. She fussed with her zipper, closing up her jacket with one hand, balancing her thermos in the other.

Pouting, he rubbed at his chin and then chuckled, wagging a finger at her “Don’t lie. You love it.” His eyes were warm and sweet. Familiar. When had Bucky’s smile start to feel familiar?

Just as she was about to respond, her eyes caught the time above the marker board “Oh shit I’m late.” Y/N was supposed to be at work no later than 4:40. It was ticking towards 4:30, and she had to get back to the school. Which was a 30-minute drive, longer with bad traffic. They were in Brooklyn. Orion was all the way over, across the bridge, in Midtown.

Hail had started pounding down from the clouds when she wasn’t paying attention. Just her luck. White dots started to collect on the roof, visible from the window to her left. It was supposed to snow later that night. Bucky helpfully snickered “I hope you boss is nice or your so screwed.” He followed her as she rushed out of the room and skipped the elevator all together.

The door to the stairway banged open at the force she shoved at it. She took the stairs two at a time with Bucky on her heels, “Katlin is going to kill me. She’s gotta get her daughter from practice.” Y/N groaned and glanced over her shoulder to glare at Bucky “This is all your fault!”

“What’d I do??” He gaped at her, as she turned the corner onto the next flight. Bucky’s footsteps were lighter than hers, but still echoed when he jumped to the landing behind her. Managing to keep up despite her going as fast as she could.

“If you had just told me what you thought! Instead of mysteriously gazing at my damn drawing! Then I wouldn’t have waited around for you to say something!” She huffed, reaching the last landing, and turning to gauge his reaction. She was already late. What did a few more minutes matter? Y/n’s chest heaved in both frustration and from running down so many stairs. Her free hand still held the railing, the other hugging her coffee to her chest.

Bucky stopped two steps from the bottom, and started laughing “Mysteriously? What? You’re the one that didn’t ask! I told you ‘Good Job’!” He waved a hand at her, shaking his head as if this entire thing was ridiculous. It was a little, but she barreled on.

“Oh cause ‘Good Job Pal’ is a worthwhile answer! You didn’t even tell me how you felt about it!” She wasn’t really mad. Not really, really mad, but she was irritated. Over the weather, and work, and maybe a little because he was so damn vague all the time. They could talk about nothing for hours, but if anything weighted came up he changed the subject. It didn’t help that he was laughing at her. Besides, she spent hours trying to make it perfect. Trying to draw him with the care he deserved.

Maybe he didn’t deserve it after all.

Confused, he stuffed one hand in his pocket, and the other on his bulky bag against his hip. He spoke her name sharply in disbelief, it ricocheted in the empty corridor “I thought you knew by now that your art is amazing. That I think it’s amazing. You’re able to make people feel things. Able to see things most don’t see.” His voice softened towards the end in the confession and he took another step down. She took a step back in return, letting go of the rail “Your anatomy was good. The shading was awesome.” He snorted, shaking his head “There’s not much I could critic except maybe the bloody shirt was a bit much. Considerin’ everything else you’ve got going on in there. But that’s just my opinion.”

The silence that followed his words left her heart pounding. Maybe it was alive, but she only ever got proof when Bucky was around. Scarlet crawled across her cheeks and burned her ears from how closely he was studying her. He raised his eyebrows with a clear ‘happy now?’ expression. She smiled nervously “Ya, but I couldn’t get it outta my head after that night, so I had to put it down somewhere.”

He jabbed his finger at her “See? Now I get it.” He took the last stair down to meet her and sighed sharply. As if with a heavy heart, he slung an arm over her shoulder in a half-hug “You shouldn’t need me to tell you how talented you are. You shouldn’t be able to forget it.”

Bucky hadn’t done this to her since that night either. Hadn’t wrapped an arm over her shoulder, playfully or otherwise. It made her feel warm. Like it was spring instead of winter, “It doesn’t hurt to hear.” She muttered, head down as he led them towards the entrance of the museum “I don’t always like what I do. I know I could do better.”

“Everyone can always do better.”

  The air outside was damp and cold. Hail littered the walkway, but it was starting to give way to snow. So at least she wouldn’t have to deal with being soaked and battered. Bucky didn’t remove his arm as they hurried towards the main road. Both were scanning for a taxi. Y/N was grateful for the extra warmth and protection from the biting wind. She tugged the sleeves of her jacket down over her fingers and kept her head ducked down. Should have worn something heavier. Instead of dwelling on her horrible self-esteem issues, she tried to change the subject.

“Got any plans tonight?” She asked over the howling of the wind, curling into Bucky’s hold to avoid the small bit of hail coming down with the snow. Her hair whipped around her face, and she tugged a strand out of her mouth. Snow clung to her eyelashes and very little sun got through the dark overhanging clouds. It was almost like nighttime came early.

He raised his hand, distractedly waving over a taxi. They stood at the very edge of the sidewalk, the toes of Bucky’s scuffed boots hanging over the edge, “Ya, I need to get home. A friend of mine’s coming over. Was gonna take her out, but since the weather’s actin’ up, I figure I’ll make her something for dinner. She’d probably like that better anyway.” He grinned when a taxi finally took notice of them and squeezed her shoulder.

Y/N felt her heart drop towards her stomach, suddenly very curious about Bucky’s apparent friend. A girl. Who he was willing to cook dinner for. She pressed her lips together and felt a little colder. Like the snow was soaking through her jacket but maybe she wasn’t imagining that.

As the taxi pulled over he asked, staring down at her “Do you mind sharing? My apartments on the way.” He gave a sheepish smile, the cold making his nose light pink. Bucky looked cute anyway. His hood was up on his jacket under his heavier coat. The hood made his hair press closer to his face and his eyes were a pristine wintery blue, reflecting the snow.

She shook her head and Bucky held the door open for her. Then climbed in behind her. He leaned forward and gave the address of his apartment, and then tacked on her college, the Orion Institute. She had never seen where Bucky lived. Not once in the entire time they spent meeting for their projects. They always met at her place. A part of her was excited to even just see his building.

They didn’t live that far apart. Bucky’s apartment was in Brooklyn Heights, less than 30 minutes from her apartment in Midtown. It only seemed far because of traffic. She lived within walking distance of the Orion Institute and only a mile from Central Park.

The taxi pulled away from the curb, navigating smoothly between a few cars in the road, “You make dinner for her often?” Y/N asked, settling back in her seat and running a hand through her tangled hair. Using the tie on her wrist, she pulled the damp mass back out of her face, watching Bucky plop his bag on the floor between his feet. He dusted snow off his coat and shoved his hoodie down.

“Not really. She’s just in town visiting her folks. Used to make her dinner all the time when we were dating.” He smiled wistfully, remembering something sweet. Then he shrugged, and the smile vanished “But that was a long time ago.” The windshield wipers ticked loudly up front and the soft crooning of the radio on an older jazz station drifted from the speakers. Heat made it back to them from the front and she rubbed her frosty fingers together.

Heart suddenly heavy, Y/N turned in the seat to look at him closer. She tucked her knee up onto the leather and fiddled with the material of her jeans. Carefully, she adjusted her bag, propping it on her thighs “So you’re still close?” Snow melted through the sleeves of her coat and carried the scent of winter with it. It just made her colder, despite the dry heat from the taxi.

Bucky pursed his lips thoughtfully “Kinda? I mean, me and Dot have always been pretty close. We don’t see each other much since she lives in Chicago now, but we hangout when she comes by. It’s always nice to catch up.” He shook some of the melting snow out of his hair, making it spike up. Gesturing with his hands as he spoke. Bucky seemed a little tense, talking about Dot. He made eye contact but was slow as he spoke. Picking his words carefully.

“Do you still like her?” That was probably one of the more personal questions she had outright asked him since knowing him. It made anxiety tighten in her throat. He had never mentioned any relationships to her before. Y/N kind of assumed he was single, based on never talking about a girl or drawing any mystery girls. Maybe she was wrong. She bit her tongue when Bucky scoffed.

“Like, like-like her?” He teased, snorting, and then looking out the window. He propped his elbow up on the door and put his chin on his hand. Water dripped down the glass as he turned his attention to the world outside “It’s more complicated than that.” He finally answered, voice quiet and far off. A car honked as it passed, and the snow was still coming down heavily. It made the scenery fuzzy. Almost ethereal. At least the pattering of hail had subsided. Just snow now.

“How?” She pried, curiosity biting at her. Her stomach pinched unpleasantly. Bucky had an ex-girlfriend who lived several hours away but came to visit him. Visit her family, too, but they were still in contact enough that he cooked dinner for her sometimes. And still considered himself close to her.

Bucky huffed, and pulled out his phone, fidgeting with it. The screen lit up, but he didn’t mess with it long enough to do more than maybe check a text before he locked the screen again. Jerkily, he dropped it into his lap and peered over at her before staring up at the questionably stained ceiling, “Complicated like. Like we were going to get married. But then I went overseas. And she didn’t wait.” He was steadily getting more agitated, and she belatedly realized that she probably stumbled on a button. He glared at the ceiling and then back down at his phone. Anywhere but her.

Part of her screamed to back track and change the subject. The rest of her was echoing with the realization that he was almost married. Y/N swallowed back the nervous lump in her throat and squeezed her fingers into fists. They were still cold, and the driver’s heavy cologne was starting to make her nauseous. She forced herself to watch Bucky’s reactions. So that maybe she could fill in the blanks of what he wasn’t saying.

“So, you still wanna be with her?” She asked gently, hoping to maybe not piss him off beyond all hope. Her hands played with her bag, twisting at one of the front zippers. A pencil dug at her thigh from the bottom of the bag. Managing to sting through the patterned material. She shifted the bottom, making the pencil move.

Bucky froze, frowning down at his phone. He didn’t speak up for a bit, but eventually laughed softly. It wasn’t a warm laugh, “Sometimes, I guess so.” He peeked up, smiling at her. A disheartened smile. His damp bangs fell in his steel-blue eyes, “But even if I wanted to. Even if she wanted to. It probably wouldn’t work anyway.” Bucky tapped at his temple and shrugged, looking like something heavy weighed down on his back “Not with the mess that’s up here now. I’m not really the relationship kinda guy anymore.” He stared deliberately down at his hands again, and she almost missed the last little bit he muttered, more to himself than her “Wouldn’t wanna make any girl deal with my mess.”

A few minutes passed where she tried to collect her thoughts. Tried to filter through all the snippets of things she wanted to say. Finally, she stared resolutely at his profile. Willing him to look back at her. The colorful city lights refracted through the melting snowdrops, casting shifting shadows across his body. His eyebrows were drawn together, deep in thought, as he stared down at his black phone screen, “Bucky.” He tensed at first, but then slowly glanced up at her. Reluctantly, as if afraid of what she was going to say. Obviously, he was uncomfortable, but she couldn’t imagine what was going through his head.

The car was slowing to a stop, breaks squeaking in protest. They were in front of an older apartment building now. A few people milled around outside in the snow. It was covered in brick and wilted ivy. The windows were small, other buildings hugging it on either side, but it was pretty, covered in snow and ice. He needed to leave, “You deserve to be happy.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, stubbornly silent. His blank expression gave nothing away. She pursed her lips, forcing her tangled web of anxiety down, “And you shouldn’t stop yourself from being happy cause you’re afraid of being a problem for someone else. You’re not a problem.” None of her words were coming out right. They all sounded better in her head. She was so afraid of showing too much of her hand. Letting him see the feelings that were just starting to become a delicate, flower bud inside of her. Something small and new that she just didn’t want anyone to see yet.

“This is sweet and all, but the meter is still runnin. I’m not gonna stop it ‘cause you two lovebirds need relationship therapy. Are you getting out or not?” The cab driver called from the front, voice harsh and loud in the tense quiet that fell after she stopped talking. She glanced up at him, taking in his black beanie and the white snippets of hair that stuck haphazardly out from under it. Her heart pounded, and her body flushed in embarrassment.

It was easy to forget that someone else could be listening.

Bucky jerked, caught off guard and scowled for a minute. He pointedly looked at her and rolled his eyes. Then turned and met the driver’s glare through the rearview mirror. The smile he offered was charming as usual, and he sheepishly apologized, “Sorry just give us a minute alright?” He leaned forward and dug a few 20s out of his wallet, handing them to the guy. That covered far more than just his ride. She knew better than to argue with him on it, though.

Then he faced her again, and Y/N could barely keep her breathing even. She wanted to know what he was about to say but she was scared. Scared that he would argue with her, or that he would see past everything. See the emerging feelings that she kept pushing down. She didn’t want him to know. Barely wanted to admit to anything herself. The budding rose in her heart felt like it was tightening its thorny vines around her lungs.

Before he could speak, there was a knock on the window behind him. Y/N jumped, startled. Bucky let out the breath he just took in to speak. Then tilted his head over his shoulder, annoyed, only for his face to brighten into a warm smile. A young woman was standing there. She had a brown fuzzy hood up to protect her from the snow, but Y/N could see firy red hair underneath it. Bucky chuckled affectionately “Goddamn impatient woman.” He picked up his bag and climbed out. Completely forgetting about whatever he was going to say.

Completely forgetting about her too, it seemed.

Bucky gave the woman a tight hug and talked quickly to her. Voice carried off by the wind. His door hung open, letting in the icy air. She couldn’t hear what they were saying. All she could think about was how pretty Dot was.

After a couple long minutes, Bucky leaned back in with a bright grin “I’ll see you Thursday ok?” His hand was resting on the top of the open door. Snow clung to his hair and his cheeks were chapped pink from the cold again.

“Ya, have fun.” Y/N replied lamely, forcing the biggest smile she could muster. She hugged her bag as hard as she could. Then hugged it harder when Dot’s hand touched his shoulder, drawing his attention back. So hard that the supplies inside hurt her chest. The pencil dug into her stomach this time. She didn’t care.

Bucky nodded distractedly, and let go of the door, stepping back. He wasn’t even looking at her anymore, “Ya sure. Have fun with all your books!” He called as he shut the door. It echoed loudly in the quiet. The car pulled away immediately. She stared at the space he used to be, ears ringing.

Annoyed, the driver turned up the heater and grumbled about Bucky letting all the heat out of the car. The heater sputtered nosily. Then he spitefully turned up the radio. Shifting, she placed both feet back on the floor, and shoved her backpack over where Bucky had been sitting. Numbly, she picked her thermos off the ground. The coffee was lukewarm, but she sipped at it anyway.

She ignored the driver, only muttering out an apology that she doubt he heard over all the noise. Sinking low into her seat, she watched the world pass outside, and tugged out her phone. She messaged Katlin an apology for being late. Let her know when she would be arriving.

As the taxi passed under a stoplight, heading towards the Brooklyn Bridge, the glowing green light reflected over her hands. The color reminded her of spring leaves. Distantly, she wondered what Bucky had been about to say. If only he hadn’t been pulled away.

Inside of her chest, Y/N imagined the rosebud sinking back into the soil. Where it would remain dormant and alone.

*****

The tip of her brush dipped into the water, and she let the bristles stroke across the top of her drawing. Pale blue pigment for the river bled down and pooled along the line of dry paper she created. It became a gradient, light at the top and dark at the bottom where most of the shadows in the creek were. She lifted the drawing board that her paper was taped to, keeping it from buckling. Carefully, she tipped the board so that the water flowed where she wanted to. Distributing the paint and giving the surface of the stream a textured look to it.

After a minute, Y/N sat the board down and glanced at the copy of the painting they were recreating. The landscape was created by David Taylor and called ‘Catching the Morning Light’. It was a simple creek surrounded by grass and trees with a faded background. Impressionistic in style and rich in contrast. All they had to do for class was recreate the painting to the best of their ability.

She sat the board back down and stretched her back. It cracked over her chair and she sighed in relief. Shifting a little, she tried to find a comfortable position for her numb butt on the hard chair. Then, she clicked through her phone, checking her messages and debating taking a break to get a snack from a vending machine downstairs.

Beside her, Y/N heard a frustrated sigh, followed by the clinking of a brush against glass. Aggressively, Bucky rinsed out his brush, nearly splashing out the water. She watched him from her peripheral as he held his brush over his pallet of paint, glaring at the colors. As if they personally offended him. Bucky scoffed, roughly dropping the brush back down on his desk.

They hadn’t talked much since Monday. Today was, finally, Thursday. She wanted to text him but didn’t want to bug him. Wanted to talk but didn’t know what to say. It felt like she might have done something wrong when he replied to the few texts she did send with short responses. But she couldn’t think of anything she did to piss him off. Normally, Bucky would be straight forward with her if he was mad about something. Especially, if it was something she did.

So, she just stopped texting him. And he didn’t text her either. Now she couldn’t decide if she was annoyed or concerned.

Bucky put his head in his hands and pulled his phone out. He clicked through it for a couple of seconds. Y/N watched as his shoulders bunched up and his jaw clenched. Since he sat down beside her that afternoon, he hadn’t spoken to her beyond a greeting. Then a couple snarky remarks about their project.

He wasn’t much of a watercolor kind of guy. She could tell. He understood the techniques. Understood, for the most part, how to apply them, but he had no love for the medium. No passion for it. Unlike her.

Y/N loved watercolor. It was easy because there wasn’t much need for precise control. It’s meant to be messy, for the most part. Didn’t have to be completely realistic and perfect. The colors would blend together beautifully and created amazing textures just about on their own.

The screeching of a chair against tile made her jump. Her brush nearly smudged the bundle of trees in the background all wrong. Bucky brusquely stood from his seat and stalked out of the room. Despite the door shutting quietly behind him, it felt like a slam. All the soft murmuring of conversation died instantly. The older woman, Hannah, sitting next to her stared at her questioningly. Y/N shrugged and shook her head.

She wanted to go after him but resisted the urge.

For 10 minutes.

It took all her self-control to focus back on her work. She got in a couple strokes for the silhouettes of the far-off trees but every few minutes she peeked at the door. Rhythmically, she tapped the edge of her brush against her scuffed desk. Her eyes drifted to Bucky’s painting. They had been working for about an hour now, but he barely even had a wet wash of color down. Only an outline of the creek, and a few splotches of color that she didn’t quite understand the purpose of.

Definitely not his best work.

Giving up, Y/N stood quietly from her desk. She placed her brush down carefully in its holder and tucked her phone in her back pocket. Some of the students stared at her, but she ignored them as she made her way to the teacher’s desk. Quietly, she told Ramsey she was going to the bathroom. From his look of exasperation, she got the feeling that he didn’t believe her. Which was fair. Still, he waved her towards the door before going back to his iPad.

Outside of the studio, the hallway was empty. To her left were the elevators and emergency exit to the stairwell. If she went right, there were a few doors leading to a couple more studios and meeting rooms. Beyond that, she would enter the museum area. With the Visible Storage, William Richards, American Art, and a few other displays.

She took a couple steps towards the displays and then did a small circle, trying to decide where Bucky might have gone. Her boots clicked against the tile floor. A soft buzz came from the golden lights on the ceiling. Y/N had a feeling he would have wanted to be somewhere quiet and alone. Walking slowly through the hall, she checked all the other rooms. Only one was active with some sort of lecture taking place. The other 5 were unoccupied and dark. She didn’t believe that Bucky would purposefully go sit in the dark. So, she turned around and continued to the stairwell.

Opening the door, Y/N stepped out and quietly shut it behind her. The click of the door sealing still echoed through the silent concrete flight of stairs. Faintly, she could smell ashy smoke. She walked down the first flight and turned the corner of the landing. There was a draft and she wished she had thought to grab her sweater. Glancing down, she saw Bucky shuffling over to sit as far against the wall as he could. Probably attempting to get out of the way of whoever was coming down. He huddled up in his hoodie, knees drawn close, feet on the step just below the flat landing. She now understood where the smell of smoke was coming from. Determined, she took the last step to even ground and strolled slowly over to him.

As she sat down beside him, she noticed a thin trail of smoke coming from a cigarette he was subtly hiding between his knees. Y/N didn’t smoke. Tried it once and nearly coughed up a lung, but she understood why people did. Everyone had their own reasons. She only ever requested that no one smoked in her apartment. Still, she was surprised. She never smelt cigarettes on him and he never once asked if he could smoke at her place. Or excused himself to smoke outside.

Bucky side glanced over to her before letting out a breath and bringing the cigarette to his mouth. He took a long drag and blew out a massive plum of smoke, then immediately waved it away, making it disperse quicker and looking a bit apologetic, “I swear I quit.” He explained, trying to smile but not quite managing “I’ve carried this pack with me for a year now. Just to prove I could have them on me but not light ‘em.” He rolled the cigarette in his fingers and stared at the burning end “Guess I have to start over now.”

Y/N settled in beside him, crossing her arms over her knees and curling forward. “That’s ok.” She gave a half shrug, studying his downcast expression as he flicked ash between his feet. It sprinkled on a second cigarette butt, “If you want to quit you will.” She laid her head down on her arms, using them and her knees as a pillow. Despite being extremely worried, she didn’t want to press. If he didn’t want to talk, she wouldn’t make him. It meant a lot to her that he hadn’t told her to go away. Softly, she wondered “Watercolor so bad that you needed a smoke break?”

Reluctantly, Bucky chuckled, and the sound made her stomach warm “Something like that.” He murmured, taking a last drag from the cigarette before rubbing it out on the stair between his feet. Smoke rushed out of his nose as he breathed out. The smell made her lungs burn but it didn’t bother her too much. It reminded her of the way her grandfather used to smell. There was something somewhat comforting there, even if her body rejected the tainted air.

Bucky stared dejectedly down at his feet, eyebrows pinched and almost angry. His right hand rubbed at the fingers of his left. Like he was trying to massage out an ache.

Y/N didn’t comment on it, instead she stared up at him and stated “I’m pretty sure they have a no smoking policy inside the building. If we get caught, I’m throwing you under the bus.” She kept her voice very dry and knew he caught the humor when one side of his mouth turned up, like he wanted to smile. He finally looked at her then.

The rings under his eyes were darker than normal and his skin was pale. His hair was a mess, like he ran a hand through it one too many times. Something made his back hunch forward. Almost like Bucky was trying to curl in on himself. Like he wanted to disappear.

“I’ll take full responsibility. Don’t worry. I’ll just pull my veteran status and say that the cold makes my arm hurt so I couldn’t stand outside.” Bucky flexed the fingers of his left hand again and grimaced, “They’ll let me off with a warning, tops.”

“How manipulative of you.” Y/N replied, pretending to be disapproving. When Bucky covered another wince with a thin laugh at her words, her frown deepened with concern, “Your arm hurting?”

Bucky flinched from her question, as if alarmed that she noticed. Then he studied her face, eyes a little suspicious, before slowly relaxing. She was watching him calmly, with a little bit of concern, but not really pity. He slowly nodded “Ya, well, really it’s my hand. It’s phantom pains. Happens sometimes when I’m stressed. It’s like my fingers are over an open flame. They’re throbbing.” His shoulders tensed up near his ears and he tried to smile, as if it wasn’t a big deal, but obviously it was.

Just his description made Y/N flinch in sympathy. He turned his attention back to his hand, rubbing at his gloved fingers. She rocked her feet against the concrete, rising up on her toes and then rolling back on her heels, restless “Does that help?” She asked, waving towards his hands with her own closest to him.

Not looking up, he nodded “Sometimes. Tony made my arm so that I can feel pressure and temperature. It’s still experimental. Not perfectly accurate. But, if I send pressure signals to my nerves long enough, the pains go away. Usually.” He huffed, frowning and biting his lip “Today’s just a really, really bad day.” That felt like a loaded comment. His voice cracked, dropping to almost a whisper near the end.

There was a long stretch of silence after that. Not an uncomfortable silence. Just quiet and full of thoughts. Y/N broke it with an offer, hoping to make him smile again “If watercolor’s stressing you that bad, I’ll do the painting for you. Ramsey doesn’t have to know.”

Bucky snorted and tilted his head to study her, smiling a little more when he saw the cheeky grin she gave him “I might take you up on that.” Then he turned back to his hand, slowly plucking off the glove he always wore. He stuffed it into his hoodie pocket and cleared his throat “But I don’t think it would help.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Y/N flicked her hair out of her eyes, tugging the long white sleeves of her shirt over her palms. The draft through the stairwell, along with the cold rock underneath her, had the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. She hugged her legs a little tighter. Being curled up helped her conserve some of her warmth.

The plates of his fingers hummed as he arched them, stretching them as far as he could. She didn’t think he was going to respond for a minute. He wouldn’t look at her. But then his words hesitantly broke the quiet. Almost shy, “It’s um… remember Dot?” He asked slowly, still not looking at her. His hair fell forward over his forehead in a soft wave. Nervously, he shuffled his feet, and smeared some of the ash across the stair.

She nodded, and he must have seen her from his peripheral because he continued “She stayed the night Monday.” Bucky’s nose wrinkled, and his lips were pressed into a fine line. Irritated, “I didn’t plan on anything happening but then a lot happened.” He let out a long breath “A lot. She didn’t leave until Wednesday.” He pushed at his metal ring finger, stretching it back, then forward towards his palm.

Y/N instantly buried the pain and disappointment that surged through her. It burned in her chest and twisted her stomach tight with thorns. But she pushed it down and locked it away. This wasn’t the time for her petty issues. Bucky was hurting over something. Something so bad that he was having phantom pains and relapsed into smoking, “Did it not go well?” She asked, keeping her voice quiet and as soothing as she could manage. Afraid of making him clam back up. Afraid he would throw his walls back in her face.

A spiteful, bitter laugh left him, and he regarded her, eyebrows furrowed “It was great. Really great. We laughed and talked.” He sat up, restless with too much nervous energy, tone spiteful “The sex was fantastic.” His voice rose towards the end, pent up frustration escaping in bursts, and he gestured with his arms. Only to wince with a loud curse and curl back in on himself when the pain in his arm spiked.

Y/N was sitting at his left and straightened up when he cried out. She brought her hand up, touching his arm, worried, “Careful!” He looked at her, surprised and covered her hand with his right one. His touch was gentle and warm. She frowned at him, the hand on his upper arm squeezed reassuringly “You ok?” The metal was hard under his plush sleeve.

Bucky exhaled sharply, squeezing his eyes shut and nodded “I’m alright. Just irritated it.” She dropped her hand. Subdued, Bucky rubbed at his fingers again “Anyway, then she got ready to go Wednesday. She was just about to walk out the door, but she stopped to tell me it was all a mistake.” He grimaced, teeth clenching in a mocking smile, voice fluctuating with flippant sarcasm “That she finally realized I’m not the man she fell in love with. That she’s not the girl I think I love.” His head dropped down, hanging low, and she could tell he wanted to cry. He swiped roughly at his eyes.

Not knowing what else to do, she reached over and tentatively laid her hand on his inner wrist. With just enough weight that he could feel her there. When he didn’t shove her off, her palm slipped against his and she laced their fingers together. His hand was cold against her skin, and she squeezed. For a minute, Bucky was silent, but then he squeezed carefully back.

“Why do girls think they have to make decisions for everyone else?” He asked, not looking at their hands. Hard metal against the soft skin. Instead, he stared down the staircase, somewhere off in the distance. Not really seeing anything, “I respect her realizing that I’m not…” He cleared his throat as his voice got thick and rough “I’m not the person I was before the army. I’m not. But she shouldn’t decide how I feel about her.”

“No, she shouldn’t.” Y/N spoke up and he tilted his head to peek up at her. Still slouched forward like he was trying to disappear. His eyes were shining grey in the dim light of the stairwell. Tears held back just by a thread. Full lips raw from biting them too hard, “It’s your choice whether you love her or not. She should have let you have that. Even if it was her choice to not love you back.” She licked her lips and swallowed the lump in her throat “But she shouldn’t have spent the night with you if she wasn’t sure.” She scooted closer and placed her other hand on top of his left one, encasing his hand in her both of hers and held tightly. It warmed the longer she held it. Her thumb brushed over the plates, feeling the texture. And Bucky let her.

He was quiet for a while. Just watching her hold his hand. Staring intently, as if thinking, but not pulling away, “She didn’t let me figure it out on my own. I thought maybe we could work it out.”

Y/N could feel his body heat down her entire side where they were pressed together. The solid weight of their hands made her feel connected to him. She wasn’t as cold anymore “She should have talked to you about everything before letting you feel that way.”

Bucky nodded, biting his bottom lip. Again, “I wish she had. It felt like losing her all over again.” He blinked past the mist in his eyes and shrugged, trying to brush off the weight in the air, “But I don’t think this’ll ever happen again.”

“Why not?” The hurt radiating from him made her chest ache. She kept gently rubbing his hand with her fingers. Down his wrist, over his thumb, across his own fingertips. Y/N hoped he could feel the comfort she was trying to translate through her touch.

“As mad as I am that she assumed she knew how I felt. She isn’t wrong. I don’t love her anymore.” Bucky scratched at the back of his neck with his free hand, cracking it, and then rubbed at his damp eyes “I think I just love the idea of loving her. Ya know?” He sniffed and laughed wetly, “At least, that’s what Steve keeps telling me.”

“Steve seems like a smart guy.” Y/N stated. She laid her head against his shoulder and continued, “I do understand that, though. It’s almost impossible to let go of someone you cared about for so long. They’re comforting. You know what to expect. It’s hard to get over that kind of heartbreak.”

“I guess you would know?” Bucky asked, raising his eyebrows. She tilted her head up to look at him. Their faces were stooped close together. The moment felt very private and intimate.

Y/N had the sudden urge to draw it. Draw them like this. From behind. Capturing their backs and tilted faces. The look of tired curiosity on Bucky’s face. Two people bonding over something universally sad and too common. A moment of intimate human connection.

Slowly, she looked down at her hand over his. The rings she was wearing glinted in the harsh light. This was easier than staring into his eyes. Her heart jumped as she admitted, “Ya, it took me over a year to even think about dating again.”

Bucky glanced up at the high ceiling and huffed, blowing out a breath. The sound reverberated through the stairwell “I don’t know if I’ll ever wanna date again.” He muttered “I’m too fucked up. No one should have to deal with my issues.”

Y/N instantly remembered the conversation from a few days ago. In the back of the cab. Right before Dot showed up and tugged him away. It felt different now. Bucky still had the same issues, but she understood just a bit better. After today. She leaned forward to make him look at her and shook his arm to get his attention when he wouldn’t “What did we just talk about?”

When he stared at her blankly, she groaned in frustration.

“It’s your choice to not want to date. That’s up to you but don’t go making decisions for someone else. If someone thinks they can deal with your issues, then let them try. Let them have that choice.” She finished, feeling like she hadn’t explained herself well enough. Yet again. Her heart was beating too fast. Too hard. He had to be able to hear it.

“Don’t shut people out.” Y/N finished when he remained quiet. She was holding his hand tightly now. Her foot bounced anxiously. Frustrated at herself and at this situation. Angry at a woman she didn’t know for making Bucky feel like this. Making him feel like he didn’t deserve anyone.

Bucky was still staring at her, minutes later, mouth in a hard line. She thought maybe she made him mad. But then he chuckled and started to laugh earnestly. Shaking his head, Bucky stood, and she let go of his hand. He let out a shaky breath and scooped up his cigarette pack, tucking the finished butts into it, “Gotta give you that one. You’re right. I’m a hypocrite.”

“That’s not what I was getting at.” She protested, pouting, eyes narrowed up at him. The light from the ceiling haloed around his head.

“I know, but it’s true.” He turned, peering up the stairs that lead back to their class, “I’ll try not to go around making decisions for other people.” Bucky promised and then looked down at her. He offered her his hand, and she took it. He easily hauled her up.

Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if there was more he wasn’t saying. More that she should say. But then Bucky was changing the subject and she didn’t get the chance.

“Have you ever actually looked through the Brooklyn Museum? We come here every week and I can honestly say I’ve never seen any of it.” Bucky mused, dusting off his pants “Wanna check it out?”

She smoothed down her white blouse, dusting the grim off her jeans. Their voices carried through the stairwell, seeming louder than they were. From down below, she heard one of the doors open. Voices carried up all the flights of stairs as people started coming up their way.

They should get back to class. She had to go to another class back at Orion in less than an hour. All their stuff was waiting in the classroom. She had a dirty paintbrush. The bristles were probably ruined by now from the paint drying. Ramsey was probably wondering where they were.

“Definitely.” Y/N replied, suddenly excited. His eyes were warm when he nodded. Finally, alive again. Not fully. There was still some sadness tinged at the edges. But it was an improvement.

Bucky playfully smirked and started down the stairs backwards. Showing off. The other people were getting closer. Then he turned and waved for her to follow him. Jogging down gracefully. But she hesitated on the landing for a second. He had just reached the bend when she took a small step towards him and called, “Buck?” He paused and looked back up at her curiously, hands in his pockets “Is your hand ok?”

He brought it out and squinted down at his left hand, opening and closing his fist a couple times. The silver glinted in the florescent light, peeking out from under his hoodie sleeve. He shrugged “Ya, it doesn’t hurt anymore.” Bucky raised his eyebrows, watching her “Comin?”

Y/N nodded “Right behind you.” Then she started down the stairs after him.

Next Chapter

Tags: @boy-leave

[candescentcalum]

I Can’t Remember (Part 2)

Summary: A frat!calum fic about frat boy Calum and sorority girl Y/N who are bitter rivals but end up waking up next to each other one morning after a drunken night of shenanigans and have to figure out what happened before anyone finds out.

Hey y'all! Here’s part 2 to my frat boy Calum fic! You can read part 1 here!

I’ll be posting part 3 when this post gets 100 notes!

Hope you guys like it!

Words: 1,843

Warnings: just language!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So how was everyone’s nights last night?” you asked your sorority. You were all having lunch together at the house as part of your weekly chapter bonding.

“It was pretty good for us, but how was your night Y/N?” asked a sophomore named Vanessa.

“Yeah, we all noticed you left the party early last night.” chimed in Mallory with a smirk on her face. All of a sudden a chorus of oohs and aahs erupted in the small kitchen.

“Oh enough,” you laughed.

“Her face is turning red!” someone shouted from the end of the table, which just made you laugh more.

“So who was the lucky guy?” Vanessa pried.

“Just a guy from my philosophy class.” you lied and waved it off when you noticed your phone light up with a text from a number you didn’t know. You unlocked your phone to look at it which caused another eruption of cheers from the girls.

“That’s probably him now!” Vanessa shouted excitedly as she got up and tried to take a look at your phone, but you were too quick. You walked out of the kitchen and into the main entryway before taking a look at what the text said.

Hey this is Calum. Meet back at your apartment in 10. I have a plan.

How did you get my number? You texted back.

From Jason. You know, my frat brother that you slept with twice last year and then never talked to again. You rolled your eyes at his comment. He acts as if he hasn’t done that to multiple girls before as well. Before leaving you popped your head back into the kitchen to tell the girls where you were going.

“I’m leaving again, I have some business to attend to!”

“Ooh is it another booty call?” Mallory joked.

“This early in the afternoon?” Vanessa laughed.

“I’ll see you guys later!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay so according to Mallory’s snap story you were still at the party at 11:38 pm, which means I was still there as well.” Calum explained as he watched Mallory’s story again for the twentieth time.

His big plan was to make a timeline of our night based upon what we could make out from our friends’ snapchat stories. Which, admittedly, wasn’t a bad plan but it wasn’t completely helpful either. We had already determined that neither one of our stories would be helpful. My phone had died at around 9:30 pm, which we determined based on Vanessa’s picture of me with a sad face captioned “her phone died :(”. And Calum had only one video on his story from 4:42 pm of one of his frat brothers doing a keg stand with the caption “pre gaming”.

“ So Mallory’s next video is from 12:47 and it’s her sitting by herself saying ‘all my friends left me’ so obviously we were gone by then.” you added.

“But here on Luke’s story I was still there with him at 12:16 so we hadn’t left the party yet .” Calum showed me Luke’s video of him and Calum taking jello shots in the kitchen with the time stamp across the middle.

“Jello shots, really? Are you a 15 year old girl?” you asked Calum with amusement in your voice.

“Shut up.” Calum said with exasperation.

“So I guess we just have to figure out what happened in-between 12:16 and 12:47 and when we left.” you told him.

“Wait, wait,” Calum suddenly got up from the couch and squinted at his phone screen.

“What is it?"you questioned as you jumped up beside him to try to get a look at his phone, but he’s so much taller than you that it was useless.  

"What were you wearing last night?” Calum asked, his eyes still glued to his screen as he watched someones story over and over.

“A red crop top and jeans I think. Why?” you asked.

“Is this you?” Calum held out his phone to you and you took it, waiting for the video to start over.   When it restarted you saw it was Ashton’s story you were watching and that he was taking a video of himself with the front facing camera of him chugging a beer and swaying to the music. In the background, you had a slight view of the front door and you could see a flash of a bright red crop top and (y/hc) hair glide out the door.

“Well I mean, thats my hair color and the color shirt I was wearing but I doubt I was the only one there wearing red. There were so many people.” I explained.

“But it’s the best lead we have.” Calum said. You shrugged your shoulders and nodded in slight agreement. He was right.

“I say we take this information and run with it.” Calum suggested. You nodded yes.

“Ash took this video at 12:42 so that means we left the party at 12:42 and went somewhere else.”

“Well no shit Sherlock.” you replied and rolled your eyes at Calum.

“Hey-” Calum started but was interrupted by the front door opening.

“I’m back bitch! Did you miss me?” Tatum’s voice rang out. Tatum was the vice president of your sorority, your roommate, and most importantly, your best friend. She went back home for the weekend for a family wedding and was getting back today, which you had completely forgotten about until this moment. You and Calum both looked at each other frantically.

“Hey!” Tatum said with a faltering smile as she rounded the corner into the living room area.

“Who’s that?” Tatum asked with a look of confusion on her face.

“Who?” you asked innocently.

“The 6 foot giant you’re trying to hide behind your back, I’m not stupid.” Tatum retorted as she she nudged you aside to look at the person behind you.

“Calum?” she gasped before looking at you with a look of disappointment on her face.

“Are you two a thing now?” Tatum fumed, angrily gesturing to the two of you. You were the most serious sorority member when it came to the whole Alpha Phi and Theta Chi rivalry but Tatum was a close second, so she was none too pleased about seeing Calum in your shared apartment.

“Hell no-” you tried to explain.

“So then what is he doing here?” Tatum snapped. You looked back at Calum with pleading eyes. He nodded at you, giving you the okay to tell Tatum about what happened. You ended up explaining everything to Tatum in detail starting from the moment you woke up that morning to where you were now. She was very upset with you at first at the fact that you might have slept with a Theta, but she’s your best friend and can never stay mad at you for long, and calmed down not long after.

“So you guys figured out when you left, but you still don’t know where you went or how you got back here?” Tatum asked. You and Calum both nodded yes.

“I would help you guys but I wasn’t even here last night. There’s no way I could know what happened.” Tatum stated apologetically.

“It’s okay, you can still help us though.” you told her. She looked at you questioningly.

“By not telling anyone.” you could tell she was about to protest but you stopped her before she could.

“At least not until we fully figure out what happened.” you reasoned.

“I guess.” Tatum agreed. Calum started making his way to the door to leave when Tatum turned to him.

“Sorry for snapping at you earlier.” she apologized to the both of you.

“It’s fine.” Calum said quickly. You could tell he wanted to get out of your apartment. He probably didn’t like being around Alpha’s.

“Bye.” you called out to Calum with annoyance in your voice as he shut the door behind him without another word. Didn’t he know it was rude to leave without saying anything.

“I guess he’s not that bad.” Tatum said.  

“For a Theta.” she shrugged and you rolled your eyes and laughed at her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So where have you been?” Ashton asked Calum as he reentered the Theta Chi frat house. Calum just stared at him like a deer caught in headlights.

“Y/N’s apartment maybe?” Ashton whisper questioned with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyebrow raised. Calum hung his head in defeat. Ashton knew.

“How did you find out?” Calum asked quietly. He didn’t want any of the other brothers in the house to hear them.

“I saw you two leave together after the party last night. I went outside to get some fresh air and you yelled at me from the road saying you were going to the diner downtown and I saw her draped all over your arm.” Ashton whispered with disgust.

“Wait, I said I was going to the diner?” Calum asked confused. He was so drunk that he couldn’t even remember that he had a short slurred conversation with Ashton.

“Probably going to eat to fill up on energy before your bone session.” Ashton rolled his eyes, completely ignoring Calum’s question.

“We didn’t have a 'bone session’ Ash.” Calum scoffed. It’s very possible that you actually might have, but he decided it would be best to leave that part out.

“So then where did you go with her?” Ashton spat out 'her’ like it burned his mouth to even say it. Ashton hated Alpha Phi almost as much as Calum did.

“I don’t know. We were drunk and can’t remember, but we do know that we didn’t fuck.” Calum lied. Calum knew for a fact that the only way Ashton would keep this a secret was if he didn’t know about the whole waking up in the same bed thing. So Calum didn’t think telling a little white lie would hurt anyone.

“What were you saying about the diner?” Calum inquired again.

“You said you were going to the diner.” Ashton elaborated as he uncrossed his arms and slightly relaxed his posture, meaning he wasn’t as mad as he was before.

“Which one? The one on Fifth?” Calum asked, trying to dig a little deeper.

“I’m assuming so. Thats the only diner we ever go to.”

“Thanks Ash. Can we keep this between us for now?” Calum asked. Ashton opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by their fellow fraternity brother Michael.

“What up boys?” Michael asked loudly as he entered the room.

“What are we gossiping about?” Michael smirked as he slung his arms around both Calum and Ashton. Calum looked at Ashton with pleading eyes, begging him to not say anything.

“Just talking about boobs.” Ashton replied with a shrug and a look to Calum that read 'you owe me’.

“Alright.” Michael laughed and gave high fives to both the boys.

“So who’s boobs were you talking about?” Michael asked Ashton as they walked into the kitchen together, but Calum strayed behind to send a quick text to Y/N.

Meet me later. I know where we went after the party.

[mhamiltonwrites]

Hunter and Hunted: A Witcher’s Tale

The cave was massive, its ancient walls stretching out into echoing, abyssal darkness. It was one of a warren through which the Witcher had pursued his quarry tirelessly for hours, his sword quick but the golem quicker. The chase had finally ended here, in what looked to be where the thing had made its den. A pile of blankets and scorched books sat near a small fire, the only illumination in the entire wretched place. From above them, stalactites hung like teeth set in some great slumbering maw just waiting to awaken and consume them both.

“It strikes me as odd for us to be so set on the other’s destruction,” the golem said, its clay mouth moving with unusual detail. “We are not so unalike, Witcher.”

“We’re nothing alike, creature,” the Witcher sneered. His face was sharp and scarred liked cracked flint. It was so pale it glowed in the darkness of the cavern, dark hair cropped close to the skull in contrast, granite features caught in the flickering light of the golem’s humble fire. Don’t talk to the monsters, his instructor’s voice chimed clear in his head, chiding him. You’re there to do a job, not make a friend.

The golem tilted its head questioningly. “Really? It was my understanding that those who practice your profession do not get into the trade by choice. Did you have any say in your making?”

The golem had been crafted by a rogue sorcerer on the outskirts of Lindenvale. Care had been put into its sculpting; where most would opt for an approximation of life, enough simply to invoke terror, the sorcerer here had worked like an artist. The face, human in all regards save for its hairless clay skin and eyes that glowed like burning coals, twitched with convincing emotion- fear, anxiety, even perhaps wry humour in the way it cocked an eyebrow, in a slight curling of the lip. “Tell me, Witcher, your purpose- it is to kill monsters, yes?”

Despite himself, the Witcher nodded. “Put simply.”

The golem smiled. “Do I seem a monster to you?”

“You’ve done monstrous things.”

The golem’s clay knuckles tightened. “As have those that drove me from my home, burned it to the ground along with what few possessions I had claimed for myself.”

“You killed a child. That little girl’s parents aren’t looking for a debate.”

“No, I suppose they are not. So instead they send you. My executioner.” The golem turned, silhouette caught in the fire’s dancing light. It spoke again, voice tainted by a sadness too deep to name. “Shall I tell you of her death, Witcher? The girl whose passing is now placed at my feet?”

“I’m no lawman, and I’m not a priest. I’m not here to judge you or absolve you.”

“Her name was Marissa,” the golem continued, ignoring him. “She alone in the town offered me a kind word. The innocence of youth I suppose. She would give me wildflowers she had picked, tell me stories of the creatures she had met in the woods. Such stories!” The golem smiled sadly. “Had she but lived, that I might hear them again.”

The golem had its back to him now. Even with the collar of the greatcoat it wore upturned, it would be a simple matter to strike its head from its shoulders. Quick and clean. The Witcher way.

“I did not know that she went on these expeditions against her parent’s wishes. I would not have continued our friendship, had I known the strain it caused in her house.” Its shoulders rose, tense at its own words. “One day she asked me to meet her at the lake.”

“Where you drowned her.”

The golem smiled over its shoulder, hot-coal eyes glowing in the stark silhouette. “Is that what they told you?”

“You remember it differently?”

“Quite differently, in fact.” It returned its gaze to the wall. Just what it saw there, in those twisting shadows, the Witcher could only begin to guess at. “She had taught herself to swim and wished for me to see. It was a joy to see her so excited. When I arrived, she was on the rocks overlooking the waters. She was to dive in, I was to applaud.” Its head drooped a little, voice darkening with sadness. “I knew something was wrong immediately. She had misjudged the dive and struck her head on a stone. I rushed in, dragged her from the weeds. But I am no healer. She was dead by the time we reached the shore. Had I the ability, Witcher, I would have wept.”

The Witcher shrugged. “A sad story. Can I tell you another?” His silver sword glittered as he turned it, letting it catch the firelight. “A monster that thinks it’s a man moves into town. Everyone runs from it. But it does no harm, so they let it stay. Eventually, out of loneliness maybe, it decides to take a wife. A girl in the village will do.”

“It was not so.”

“It stalks this girl,” the Witcher continued. “Follows her to market. Stands outside her window at night. Maybe it thinks this is what it is to woo its bride-to-be.”

“It didn’t happen like that, Marissa and I-”

The Witcher cut it off, still talking over its protests. “But in the end, this girl fears it. Runs when the monster comes for her. And the monster chases her.”

“I assure you, Witcher, they are telling you lies!” With its final word the golem struck its fist against the cave wall. Dust fell as the stones shook from the blow.

The Witcher did not blink, seemingly unimpressed by the golem’s passion. “They showed me her body. You broke her wrist when you grabbed it to stop her running. Knocked her skull against the wall so hard it cracked. She was still breathing but wouldn’t wake. You dragged her to the lake hoping to cover your crime. Hoping they’d find her body and call it an accident.”

“It was an accident! I would never harm Marissa, never! Before they came to my home, with torches and hammers, I never once rose to hurt them. Never did I even lift an arm to block a stone thrown at me or look up when they hurled names at me in the marketplace. I only wished to live, Witcher! To pass each day as unseen as I could.”

“You chose to stay. You could’ve left at any time. There are other towns.”

“Tell me true, Witcher, do you think it would have been any different? They shake at every passing shadow before they see who casts it. Even those of flesh and blood whose soul is but a little changed is to be hated. Is the dwarf so different from man that he must torment him? Is the boy whose jaw clenches when others talk, whose mind wanders as his body twitches, so lacking in humanity that cruelty must replace kindness? These people search long and hard for monsters, Witcher, when they could find them with ease should they ever stop to consider a mirror.” The golem’s shoulders slumped, as if its’ words were some great weight pressing down upon it. “It would be so anywhere I could deign to call home.”

The Witcher raised his sword, levelling at the creature. “Then let’s end this. If the world is as cruel as you say, stop running and I’ll do what I came here to do. It’ll be quick. I promise.”

“Such generosity. Is this the final measure of human kindness? A swift death?” The golem turned back to face him. A ghastly smile twisted its features, cold and full of hate. “They look at you with that self-same fire in their eyes that they turn on me, Witcher. How long until they put money on your head? Until they build a story of wild lies enough that it is you that is hunted like a rabid dog?” The smile faded, replaced by a haunted, hungry gaze. “There is another way.”

“There isn’t. Your existence is a threat.”

“Is it? I am no savage beast. Listen to this- I will not return to the town, nor will I take refuge in another. Let me live, and I promise you it will be wilds where I make my home. I have no need of sustenance, of shelter beyond the simplicity of a cave. I can live well out here, beyond the cruelty of men.” It closed its eyes, lost in its apparent reverie. “Marissa spoke often of the beauty of this world. It would be… good to experience it for myself. Let me live. Let me wander and remember the kindness that she showed me.”

The Witcher narrowed his eyes. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I’m a professional. I have a code and a reputation. Besides that, say I let you live. Go back and tell them I lost you in the woods. What happens the next time you get lonely? Who’s to blame when you go to a new town and all this happens again?” He gripped the hilt of his sword a little tighter, leather gloves creaking. “The next death would be on me.”

“So you must take me at my word.” The golem opened its eyes again, meeting the Witcher’s gaze. “I am a built thing, yes. Built, perhaps, with ill intent. But tell me, are you no more than your profession? Are you naught but a sword for them to wield?” There was that level of detail again, the edges of its eyes creasing as it pleaded. Almost human. Almost. “When I look at you, I see past what they call you. Is it so much for me to ask that you look at me and do the same?”

“Pretty words.” This had gone too far. He’d let it talk for so long when it should have been over the moment he had spotted his opening. Finish this.

But the Witcher felt something in his heart; a doubt, small but gnawing, a voice that clashed against his training. This was a golem, no question in that. But there was no question of its intelligence either. Of its ability to think, to reason.

He had killed men before. Bandits that waylaid his travels; townsfolk under a sorcerer’s thrall; even once a pious lordling after he tried to rob him of his due payment. And there were other monsters that looked to the world like any other person. Vampires, succubi, shape-shifters- they all kept their monstrous countenance hidden. They too could think. They too could reason. Were you wrong then? No; and yet…

As if sensing his discomfort, the golem took a step towards him. Now all that stood between them was the small campfire, still flickering in the gloom of the cave. The golem drew so close that the point of the Witcher’s swords sat against its chest. “Come, Witcher,” it murmured. “Run me through if you are so certain.”

The sword twitched, just for an instant, the firelight that glanced off it betraying his uncertainty. The golem smiled coldly. “Just as I thought.” Then, before he could even draw a breath to reply, the creature moved.

In a shadow’s blink it was on him, casting embers aside and knocking the sword from his grip with a swipe of its clay fist, its other hand seizing him by the throat. It moved fast, propelled with unnatural grace. Nowhere were the faults, the indecision of mortal movement; the Witcher saw now why the villagers had feared it so. In motion its inhumanity was painted clear.

The creature’s sculpted features showed little anger as it lifted the Witcher from the ground. Indeed, it seemed to look upon him with contempt, bordering almost on pity. He tugged at its wrist, eyes reddening as he gasped for air against the pressure. “I tell you this, Witcher” the golem said, its voice little more than a whisper. “Had I possessed a heart it would have broken the day Marissa died. I would gladly take her place if it would mean she breathed once more.” Its grip tightened, cold fingers bruising his pale skin. The Witcher reached for the dagger on his belt, hoping to strike at it, do something to distract it long enough to get free. The golem spotted him reaching and plucked the dagger from its sheath before he could seize it, tossing it to the cavern floor. “Your first thought is still to harm me? Even after everything I have told you!?”

“You… Got me… First,” the Witcher hissed, barely able to speak.

“You… Are animals.” A cold fury filled its face. “I tried… I tried to live as one of you, but I see now I was right! There is to be no peace with you creatures! How can there be? How can I reason with those who cannot think beyond fear? This is the belonging I sought?” The glow in its eyes seemed to shine brighter now as rage filled it. “This is the truth of your world, Witcher. That wheresoever you walk they will look see you as nothing more than what they believe. You. To be.” With each word it squeezed his throat tighter and tighter, black shadows beginning to creep across the corners of his vision. Then, just as suddenly as it had seized him, it relinquished its grip. The Witcher dropped to the ground, gasping for breath, desperately reaching for where his sword had fallen.

The golem knelt, as if lost in prayer. “I could have killed you, Witcher. I could have crushed the life from you in an instant and chose not to. Instead, I curse you with living. I curse you with my death, that you will know but a little of my pain. That you will know you are nothing more than what they made you!!” It spread its arms wide, glaring at him in furious triumph. “Kill me, Witcher! Kill me now so that I may die as a man and not as the monster they called me! May that be a peace you never know in-”

Before the golem could finish, the silver sword swung. In a single blow, the clay head was struck from its shoulders. It rolled across the dust of the cave floor, the glowing-ember light in its eyes slowly fading until at last they were extinguished. “You talk too much,” the Witcher half sighed, half gasped, watching as the clay body, so perfect in its construction, slumped and struck the floor. It crumbled upon impact, head and body cracking and falling away until there was nothing left but dust and the greatcoat it had worn. The Witcher knelt, running his hands through the dust, gaunt face unreadable. You do the job, you get paid. The Witcher way. With a grunt, he stood. Stretched. Returned his sword to its scabbard. Turned and walked from that dark, horrid place.

He did not look back.

[darkspine10]

GF Fanfic - A New Course

A New Course (1829 words) by darkspine10

Chapters: 1/6 Fandom: Gravity Falls Rating: Teen and Up Additional Tags: Beach City, Sea Monsters, Maps, Monster hunting, Twins, Aged-Up Character(s), Reunions, Missing Persons, Dipper and Mabel solving mysteries, Bows & Arrows

Summary:

People are going missing from the beach town of Sapphire Bay. College students vanishing by the dozen with no obvious cause. Dark spectres haunt the forests and beaches, but no-one in town wants to talk about it.

May Pines, renowned activist and trouble-maker, has made it her mission to save the town. Calling on the help of her brother, the twins must reunite to work together to solve the mysteries of Sapphire Bay.

*

The small beachfront house stood alone at the barrier between forest and sand. Waves lazily sprayed against the beach out below the house which hung over a small slope. From behind, the leaves of the trees rustled, a soft wind blowing in from the sea. Stepping out into the sunset light, Dipper Pines shielded his eyes and spotted a reclining figure on the wooden balcony.

Shutting the car door, he gave a deep sigh. This was still something he wasn’t yet fully used to. Meeting up with his sister as a regular thing, rather than it being an aberration. Time and new perspectives had healed the cracks that had led to their separation, but it still took some adjustments to his mindset.

Forgetting his initial wariness, he strode over and yelled out. “Mabel! I’m round the front!”

Out on the balcony her saw her stir – or fumble to get up rather – and disappear inside. He took a last look at the surroundings, building up a picture of where he’d be based for the foreseeable future. It would help to know every little detail, so any differences would stand out all the more clearly.

The wall of dark trees inland was much like what he knew from Gravity Falls, but the unmistakeable tang of salt ever-present in the air made him aware of the Pacific just a stone’s throw away. Dipper sensed this was a different kind of forest entirely. The chances of running into a cryptid were almost certainly lower for one thing.

A muttered cursing from behind the front door was followed by the sound of locks being unhinged. A single heft and the door was pulled away, leaving a grinning Mabel, sunglasses perched on her forehead, leaning against the frame affecting a cool air. “Yo yo yo, welcome.” She wrapped herself around Dipper in a side-hug, then gestured him inside. “Come on, park your keister, bro. I bet you’re tired from the drive. It’s great to see you.”

All his concerns from before melted away. There divide he feared between them was nothing but a bout of undue anxiety. Mabel was happy to see him, as she’d always be from now on. “Great to see you too,” he said with a grin. “So, this is where you’ve been chilling out for the last few weeks.”

Mabel had a habit of moving around a lot, never in one place for long. Often his attempts to contact her would fail, his letters arriving after she’s already left or spotty connections keeping them apart. The only constant was that she’d always call from someplace else than before, some new exotic locale where she’d parked her special brand of troublemaking.

In the past he’d resented her for this. In his eyes she was just running away from any kind of responsibility. Now he sympathised more with that wanderlust. To simply take what you could carry and head off into the unknown.

Mabel’s newest abode was hard to make out with the sunlight glinting through the wide bay windows. Squinting, he saw the interior of the rustic cabin. It was airy, with an open sitting area dotted with pillows and comfy sofas abutting a kitchen with cabinets of painted wood.

Donning her sunglasses, Mabel grabbed a bottle of beer from the counter took a deep swill, before guiding Dipper out onto the balcony. “This is the life, eh.”

He sat down on a chair overlooking the sea and slowly nodded. “Yeah, I could get used to this. Not quite got the same…” He drifted off, an expression of warm remembrance on his face.

“Same what?” Mabel asked.

“Not got that same thrill as home though, does it.”

Mabel leant over the balcony as memories of the hundreds of adventures they’d gone on as a pair or trio with Pacifica. Her smile grew into a smirk, something Dipper didn’t fail to notice. “Well… you might be surprised.” As he raised an eyebrow, Mabel’s tone grew serious. “Let’s talk.”

With the sun now long set over the distant horizon and reheated pizza scattered around the living room, Mabel spread a bunch of papers across her kitchen table. She tapped a basic map of the coastline. “Nearest town, that’s Sapphire Bay. About 20 minutes on foot. They got beaches, boardwalk, carnival stuff. Perfect place for a getaway.”

“Is that the reason you brought me out here?” Dipper crossed his arms sceptically. “To unwind?”

“Hold your horses, I’m getting to the important stuff.” Mabel sifted through the documents and grabbed a pamphlet of local hotspots. “Most tourists that pass through are college kids, visiting for their spring breaks or whatever.”

“Lemme guess, lots of young adults getting wasted and partying all day and night.”

“Not all of us go on boring walking vacations like you.” Then she shrugged. “But yeah, you’re not far off.” With her black crop-top and colourful tattoos Mabel looked every bit the part of a small-town rebel, sticking it to the man and living life to the full on the beach. She fit in perfectly.

“That why you’re here then? A rest.”

“You could put it like that.” Mabel lent back in her beanbag, oddly pensive. “Needed a break from all the travelling. Last year was totally intense, as you well know. And with Zera off in space with that budding phase of her lifecycle, I thought I’d take some Mabel time to myself.”

Dipper detected a hint of reticence. Mabel’s relationships had never been easy to define – let alone when her partner wasn’t even from Earth. “You two still all good?” he asked gingerly.

“Oh yeah yeah, fine. This is something she’s gotta do, I understand. She’ll be back in a month or two.” Mabel sipped from another bottle of beer. “Anyway, how about you? Pacifica really chose to stay home watching the kids? Don’t tell me she’s gone all maternal at last?”

Dipper snorted with laughter. “You really think? No, she just doesn’t care to drive all this way on a whim.”

“Ha, that sounds like her. When you get home tell her she missed out on all the fun.”

“You bet. I gotta say, moving back to the Falls permanently was a great idea.” It had been a hectic few months deciding to finally return to the West Coast. The work of moving had left little time for their traditional Mystery Hunts or journal time. But Dipper wouldn’t have given up one second with his new family for the world.

“Pacifica’s certainly got her hands full. Merrise is struggling a little; still a new environment for her and all. Plus someone’s gotta look after the baby.” He set down his own drink and bent over the table. “Anyway, enough about me. I know you; we could be stuck on gossip all evening. Tell me why you need my help.”

Mabel leant back, melting into the beanbag, puffing out her cheeks. She was deep in thought about where to start. Stretching up out of her cocoon, she grabbed a single sheet off the pile strewn on the table.

“I got here a few weeks ago. My last protest kinda went south, you know, the one in Paris, with the unions, and I wanted somewhere to crash.” Dipper nodded. He remembered seeing his sister’s face on a news channel, though thankfully only in passing as part of a crowd. Mabel was getting better at keeping a low profile these days. To minimise the consequences should her actions suffer repercussions that might affect him and his family. Still utterly devoted to the cause, but mindful of getting others caught in the crossfire.

Mabel turned the sheet around to show Dipper. There was a grainy shot of a young man with name and identifying features beside it. Traditional chiselled features of your average jock visiting the beach. At the top of the poster was a single word, underlined in red:

Missing.

Dipper felt a pit of dread in his stomach. He knew where this was going.

“Spotted this on the boardwalk,” Mabel continued. At first I thought it was nothing. One lost kid, what can you do? Then more people started disappearing. Almost all the cases have been tourists. Like I said, lots of college kids passing through, having fun… and never going home.”

“And you think there’s something linking them?” Dipper cautiously asked.

“Lotsa kids vanishing, all recently, within the last few months as far as I can reckon. Normally I wouldn’t call you for something like this, but there’s something else on top.”

Her next document was a blurry polaroid. Dipper could make out crashing waves and a bulky shape in the water, but it was vague enough that it could have been anything, a boat, driftwood. Seemed to him that most cryptids were naturally camera shy.

Mabel was deadly serious however, and he was there right along with her. “You took this?” he asked, but she shook her head.

“Local paper. Last Tuesday. And there’s more.” She rifled around for a list of witness testimonies, but Dipper held up a hand.

“I get it. This is more than a simple missing persons case.”

Dipper pondered the facts. There was something oddly haunting about unsolved mysteries quite like this. Mundane in some ways, but the thought of people just disappearing off the map without a trace still gnawed at the back of his mind. Maybe, he considered, it was parenthood. Being responsible for his own kids, imagining a myriad of potential fates for these lost youths got to him.

Mabel tossed the paper down, her face contorting into an angry scowl. “I’ve tried figuring out what’s going on, but nobody likes talking about it. The cops certainly don’t care; to them it’s just a bunch of out-of-towners getting overwhelmed partying. ‘Can’t handle the lifestyle’, that’s what they say, before dropping all investigations.”

From her tone, Dipper could guess this was a common point of contention for her. She’d probably attended a number of riots protesting against the very corruption she was outlining right now. As a whole, she preferred relying on herself to sort things out.

“I know it’s not some grand conspiracy to solve or anything big like that. But it’s real, Dipper, and it’s happening to innocent people.”

Immediately he assuaged her doubts. “You don’t have to worry. I know how important this is. Besides, after everything we’ve been through in our lives we deserve to take it small-scale. Do some practical good.”

Mabel’s resulting grin was infectious. The spark of adventure was already spreading. “Right then!” She stood up decisively and tucked away her messy pile of collected evidence. “Tomorrow morning we can head into town. I’m already friends with a bunch of the locals, we can work on getting some pointers.”

“I’m sure once the Mystery Twins set up in town we’ll have this cracked in no time.”

“Cheers to that.” They clinked their bottles together, ready to solve this thing as soon as the sun rose.

[noxsden]

Pursuit of Knowledge

A new story for my horror October thing.  A bit long so it’s under a cut.

Ideal was a good way of describing things.  Quaint, the way the world could look with minimal interference, far from the bustling metropolis that the Golden city and Myrefall claimed.  The rolling plains and moors, unique to the Plainslands stretched out far beyond the village limits, passing sight to drift into the infinity of the horizon.  Only a couple trees dotted the landscape, the ground didn't seem to take anything more substantial.  Time stretched onward, and much of the old tales, on why the Plainslands were had been forgotten to its unforgiving cogs.  With the space it left being taken over by the newer and flashier ideas, evolving from generation to generation.

The winds that blew through the area always seemed to bring warmth, carried from the sea and the islands across it, warmth that flowed through each blade of grass, whistling under the beating sun.  It was a simple life, the other villages were walking distance away, things had become quiet again.  The bustling of trains and deliveries had slowed to a more standard pace.  With the relief that came, with it brought the most base of desires, the one to explore, to learn.

Furman Burke was one such man, feeling the urge to travel to a place he had never been.  The allure of the Plainslands now being open was too great.  Pen and booklet in hand his scripted writing flowed about the pages, capturing every detail he could.  Walking along, crossing the threshold of the village, stepping off into the grass and flowers.  Such abundance of color that was so rare in his home.  Children playing out not far from him, being called at by adults, much to the amusement of Furman, capturing their antics for posterity.

As he was writing, he heard a scream, instinctually running towards it, where he found one of the children had tripped over a curious stump.  Helping the girl up to her feet, and sending them back towards the adults that were heading out this way.  Running his hand over the wood, the grass and flowers had almost seemed to grow up and over it.  Walking further from the village he found more and more of the stumps, all treated in similar ways.  As he thought, the farmlands were all located in between the villages, creating rings and rows.  Out in the distance, a large tree loomed in the horizon.

The tapping of the pen against the notepad, occasionally being brought up to be chewed on, it wasn't often that the man became perplexed by something.  Returning to the tavern, excited and brimming with questions.  His smiling face almost seemed to worry the tavern owner as he sat down.

"What's with all of these stumps and no trees?"

The question was met with a sigh from the older man.  "We have city limits for a reason.  Nothing grows out there, nothing goes out there.  Trust me, it's not a place to wander.  I know it looks carefree, but write about the serenity of it all.  It'll do you better that way."

Shaking his head Furman wouldn't take no for an answer.  Though he waited until food and a drink had been brought to him before pressing the issue further.  "I, get that I'm an outsider.  But curiosity is what we have, the world has been opened up.  And my guild intend to learn all we can.  Information is..."

The barkeep cut him off with a wave of his hand.  "Listen here, what I get is that curiosity is a luxury those from the cities get.  We are nice and different so we must be like you.  I can't really help you though.  I was told not to, from my parents, who were from theirs.  And they learned the story, it's been lost to time."

Furman again went to speak before he was waved off again by the barkeep.  The man sighed and went to pull up a chair, the act enough to silence the explorer, and get him eating.  Clearing his throat the bartender continued, "It's a different place out here.  Things stay, and stories can be forgotten, because you learn it that's all you need.  You, you can remember a place called Doc's Engineering Supplies.  You have a memory of it, and a week later, it's different, so you need to know.  Want to write out a book, the roads lead to the other towns.  And all the farmland and fields in between are open for you to wander.  Be careful because each one has their own secrets, straight back you have Kingsdale, you don't ask about the waterways.  To the right you have the nice small town of Worth, where you don't ask for recipes.  That's just how it is."

A confused look had settled on his face, questions brimming just behind his eyes.  Several had cropped up just after that little explanation he had been given.  Silence was what he responded with, choosing to finish his meal and drink and contemplate.  The barkeep left him alone after that, finding odd jobs to keep him busy.  Once the meal had concluded, Furman paid and stood up, as he walked towards the stairs he stopped.  He looked to the barkeep, his mouth hung open as if starting a sentence, and then closed, shaking his head and giving a chuckle.  "Is there a library or does the town hall keep records, that I can see."

The barkeep tilted his head, looking about the empty room and then back to the man.  "Can't say that I know the answer to that.  Town hall is right across the road though."  A smile was given, his eyes cast over the man's shoulder, lingering for a moment before work was resumed.  Furman looked about, a strange feeling of being watched settling onto him.  

Some rest would be needed first.  Peering up the stairs, wind echoing own the hall, carrying on it a voice, barely audible.  "Found."  Furman turned on a dime, heading instead out of the tavern, as quickly as he could without making a scene.  Perhaps the Town hall would be best, he thought to himself.  Dust from the roads were kicked up by the wind. running across it to try and avoid the tingling sensation that had crept up his spine.

The place was empty except for a receptionist, staring at him as he walked in the door, as if it was meant to be used in some other way.  He was met with similar resistance to his questions as with the barkeep.  Deflection, the records didn't go that far back, they had been lost, every excuse in the book.  With an exasperated sigh the woman relented, showing him back to a room full of dusty books, piled in no particular order.  Leaving him to his work, the woman looked over his shoulder, staring for a few moments before she turned and left him alone, shutting the door behind her.

Furman looked around, searching the area behind him, again there was nothing, nothing but that feeling of being watched.  How were they so complacent in not knowing?  As he looked through the books, he found that troubling feeling growing.  Dusty pages turned, books barely held together were gingerly set into different piles.  He was getting nowhere fast, pulling out his note pad and scribbling down a few notes.  A scratching sound started up in the empty room, formless at first.  Before it grew into an echo, coming from all around him.  Something wanted to get out

He stood quickly from the table, sending the chair skidding backwards, but once it stopped, the sound dropped as well.  Silence fell on the room, a final moment of sanity, a breath taken and exhaled.  The sound of papers sliding onto the floor was what tilted his head, what snapped him free.  Walking towards it, footfalls clacking against the ground.  Passing through the aisles, one after the other.  Empty pathways, endless dust covered books.  Until he came across the papers, sprawled  out in the middle of the floor.  Pictures were scrawled out across them, pictures of trees.

Lowering down to look at each one, aged and cracked, faded, but it was clearly a forest.  Each picture was the same, dark, nondescript trees.  No people, just trees.  Or was there movement, something shifting in the shadows, watching from just beyond the treeline?  That's silly, it's just a picture.  Chuckling as he thought to himself.  Lifting them up and cycling through them, stopping on the last one.  His hand ran over the familiar sight.  The same one that had caused him pause while talking to the barkeep.  Doc's Engineering shop.

Noise, a creaking sound as the ground seemed to peel away from him.  Wood and stone replaced by metal and rust.  Snow covered the road, the pictures moved away from his face.  And that glowing neon sign shone like an eyesore in the darkness.  Everything had changed, no longer golden.  It was like the city didn't have a name, taking it's place was the rust, the dull, the industrial.  What it always had been, just without the shiny coating,  Always changing,  A shrill grinding sound came out of nowhere, rising up to cacophony around him while the pipes and metal shifted, overgrowing the small shop.  Spines extending from them, sprouting bladed leaves as it cut into the landscape.  Swarming him, enclosing around the roadside that he stood.

The snow melted away, vanished into the undergrowth of twisting metal.  The neon bulbs shifted, moving about among the constructs.  Darkness had took it's place, a void, what had been familiar grew foreign.  The grinding continued, lights moving to surround him.  Bringing the pictures up to his face, a reflexive shield.  Eyes shutting tight, opening them after the noise stopped.  Organic had grown over synthetic, finding himself among a forest of actual trees, of green, life.  It was still ominous, encroaching and now he found himself begging for the silence.  It was all around him, crawling into his ears, across his skin, under it.  He turned about quickly, trying to find some semblance of relief but there was none to be found.

Lumbering crashes started encircling him.  Looking out into the abyss, cutting through the sea of trees, glowing orange grew closer and closer to his minute trace of safety.  Whispers coming on the wind that tossed his clothes and hair about, impossibly strong for the tree cover.  "Secret."  The word came from all angles, above below, hurried gaze flicking about.  Knuckles turning white as he gripped onto the shred of reality, the one thing in here that he knew was real.  "Secret."  It bellowed out again followed by thunderous slams that crept closer.  Suddenly light cast shadows around him, orange, roaring red and warm.  Fire had taken to the forest, more slams of trees crashing down as the heat grew closer.

Suddenly, a shadow passed into the empty spaces between the towering columns, swiftly stalking the man in the center.  Every time he thought it had stopped. dared himself to glance in it's direction, nothing but the encroaching inferno lay beyond.  A cleaving sound brought him to turn quickly, running to get out of the way of a falling tree that cut his safe space in half.   Unforgiving flames licked across the trunk, causing Furman to fall to the ground, kicking the dirt to languidly push inches of space between him and the fire.  As if the unlit trees that loomed behind him were impervious to the unrelenting wrath of the flames.

A soft pounding came from behind him, a tentative and deliberate lifting of his gaze had him looking upon a dark figure.  A distinct sharp sound as a large sword was thrust into the dirt by his head.  Glowing eyes grew larger as the figure leaned in close to him.  The light flickering just enough to make out the strange humanoid features.  "Found."  The blade lifted up, Furman finding his voice enough to scream until it came down with a hearty swing.

Pushing himself up from the table, covered in sweat he nearly knocked the receptionist over, as she was checking after him.  She looked him over, straightening out her clothes, clearing her throat  "I trust you have had quite enough time to look around then.  I'm trying to close up."  Looking around he found the table covered in books and papers, just as he remembered.  The pictures he had found were gone.  Standing up from the table he gave a bow, apologizing and turning to leave.  A purpose behind his pace, stopping only as sound of a chair being pushed in from beside him filled the room.