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accirax · 2 months

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Elliot Cuevas Lore Check (Yoidoreshirazu MV Analysis)

After the intellectuals in our community had the thought to check the description of DRDTdev’s latest MV masterpiece, one fact became pretty clear: DRDT’s sparkly new MV is not fronted by one of our main cast of sixteen, or even a particularly pre-established side character. Instead, it’s time for Elliot Cuevas to take the stage, and bring with him a lot of questions ranging from “wait, that’s what he looks like?” to “wait, is the killing game predicated on a basis of lies?!” There’s… a lot running through my mind right now, and I see no better way to process it than to start answering the questions that I and others may have as best I can through a theory post. I’m living!

And when I say “answering the questions,” I mean that quite literally. I think that the best way to frame this analysis is to divide it into headlining questions, and tackle what we know and what we can learn piece by piece. Therefore, I think the most obvious question we can start with is:

#1: Who is Elliot Cuevas?

We don’t have a ton of information about the guy, but I’ve tried to compile what we do. By far the most information we’d gotten on Ellie prior to this MV was from the Chapter 2 Part 1 Q&A, where DRDTdev described a little about all of the major siblings we’d heard of so far. Here’s what DRDTdev said:

So, we know that Elliot was given the nickname “Ellie” (and presumably likes it, given that he’s credited in the MV as “Ellie”), and he looks really similar to Charles, which we also saw in the MV. Given how similar he looks to Charles, I’m going to assume that they’re biological brothers, which would make Ellie hispanic/latino. Similarly, I’m assuming that he identifies as male, due to his use of he/him pronouns and the term “brother” being applied to him. He likes pancakes and dogs, which… we’ll get back to later. Charles is stated to be 18+ at the start of Despair Time, which would make Ellie 29-32+ if he were alive today. Which… huh. Is he?

#2: Is Ellie alive?

The belief that Ellie is dead isn’t just a popular headcanon that metamorphosed into “fact”– his death is directly referenced in the text in the form of Charles’ secret. Your older brother, Elliot, died.

However, this MV does make it tempting to believe that Ellie could be alive, so let’s give it the benefit of the doubt for a moment. If Ellie is alive, there are two sets of two questions to consider.

Question #1: If Ellie is alive, why did people think he died?

Ellie was in a life threatening scenario that people believed he didn’t escape from, but he did. After this, he either took the opportunity to disappear, or something prevented him from reuniting with his loved ones.

Ellie did die, and the DRDT universe contains some sort of necromantic magic or time travel properties that could bring him back to life.

Question #2: If Ellie is alive, why does the secret say that he’s dead?

Whoever wrote the secrets (likely the mastermind) did so intending to tell the truth. They learned the information from a source that led them to believe that Ellie had died, and if Ellie turned up alive, they would be just as surprised as everyone else.

Whoever wrote the secrets (likely the mastermind) did so intending to lie. They knew that Ellie was really alive, and included his “death” in the secret just to fuck with Charles. This could also imply that other students’ secrets incorporate some level of lies.

If Ellie is alive, I think that the #1 situation is more likely for both questions.

If Ellie is dead, we don’t know exactly when his death happened. Given that Charles cites it under the umbrella of “childhood amnesia,” we can pin Ellie’s hypothetical death down to a time when Charles was a child. The National Institute of Health defines childhood as 3-11 years old. So, if Ellie died when Charles was 3-11, it would mean Ellie’s age of death would fall between 14 and 23.

I made this little moodboard to try to piece together around what age Ellie might be depicted as in the MV based on how DRDTdev has drawn people of various ages before. This is important under the assumption that Ellie canonically looked like this at some point during his life. ‘Cause (picking obviously wrong numbers here), if Ellie had died when he was, like, 2, it’d be weird if the MV showed him when he was, like, 50, right?

Allow me to take a little detour to discuss the Nageishi sisters and establish their ages. I initially ballparked Arei’s age as around 13 in that picture, which would have made her sisters (who are 2-5 years older than her) 15-18. However, there’s some actual evidence we can pull upon to clarify when that image might have come from.

In Arei and J’s FTE, J says that Arei “definitely [*was*] a highschool bully,” and Arei confirms that she was “the queen of her school.” Assuming that these two are to be believed, we can estimate based on the average age at which an American enters high school as a freshman that Arei has been a bully since at least around 14. While I don’t necessarily expect that Arei came in and became the queen bee on the first day of freshman year, it certainly would have been easier to establish her reign if the other students hadn’t previously seen her being bullied and tortured for a year or so beforehand. Therefore, Arei is probably in a maximum of eighth grade (12-13) in that image, so that she would have had enough time to sabotage her sisters before entering high school.

Additionally, although it isn’t stated in the secret the killing game handed out, Arei confesses to David and Teruko that she “got [her sisters] unlawfully sent to reform school.” Through a bit of googling, I learned that many reform schools cap out at about 16-17 years old, although it’s impossible to confirm that without knowing which state Arei grew up in. If that’s the case, then Fuyuko and Natsuko could only be a maximum of 17 years old, which is in the same sort of age range as Arei being a maximum of 15 in that picture. However, I don’t know if the Nageishi parents/the government would find it too useful to send the sisters to reform school for only one year, so it seems more likely that they’re younger than that in the picture. I might ballpark that Arei is 12 and Fuyuko and Natsuko are 15 in the picture.

Anyways, I think we can definitely rule out the possibility of Ellie dying when Charles was on the lower end of the age spectrum. He looks way older than any of the characters drawn “when they were kids”, and notably older than Arei as well. To me, he also looks older than Ryan, meaning he probably reached the age of an 18+ adult.

Unfortunately, there’s a really large age range that’s gone undepicted between the “18+” killing game participants and Mariabella, the only “parent-aged” adult we’ve seen so far. I would probably put Ellie’s appearance between the two, but it’s also possible that his unkempt hair and eyebags are making him look older than he actually was, a la Syobai Hashimoto of SDRA2 (the link is a spoiler-free picture of him). Syobai’s exact age is unknown, but generally young, yet many people think he’s an old man when they first see him. That phenomenon could be going on with Ellie as well.

If he is, we’ll say, 20 or older, though, there’s a limited number of ages he could have died at that would still fall within Charles’ childhood. If Ellie died, he did so when Charles was in the 8-11 kind of age range. Otherwise, for Ellie to reach the age he’s shown at in the MV, he probably survived to grow older than Charles’ family last remembers him. I think Ellie’s death is probably more likely, but, hey, that means we’ve narrowed down the period in which Charles could have acquired his childhood amnesia. That’s something!

#3: How does Charles feel about Ellie?

Well, okay. Obviously, in the current day, Charles doesn’t know who Ellie is, and therefore probably doesn’t have any strong feelings about him other than confusion. But, before Charles forgot about him, what was Charles’ opinion?

I actually thought that Charles really admiring Ellie was a canon fact, but looking back at it, I don’t think it was ever directly stated. That said, there are several reasons why I thought that their relationship was a positive one.

Told you we’d come back to Ellie liking pancakes! I’m sure it’s not a coincidence that, when Charles thinks of what he’d like to learn how to cook, he comes up with Ellie’s favorite food. It could be that Ellie used to make pancakes for Charles, or that they simply used to go out and get pancakes together, but Charles clearly has some sort of repressed memories about pancakes with his brother that makes him want to seek them out again.

We already knew that Charles and Ellie were known to look very alike, and this MV confirmed that was true, down to the length of their hair. If Charles didn’t like Ellie, he easily could have kept his hair short, like the haircut he had as a child, as a way to make them look less similar. However, Charles is very attached to keeping his hair in a long ponytail, just as Ellie wears it. That implies to me that Charles saw Ellie as enough of a role model to seek replicating the image of his brother through his own style even when he doesn’t remember that Ellie existed. That’s powerful.

#4: Why does Ellie look… like that?

Now this is a point that I’m still confused about. Charles’ affluent backstory has been alluded to multiple times. Both his inability to do his own laundry and his lack of knowledge in the kitchen imply that he had people to cook and clean for him. It’s possible that Charles’ parents were the ones doing that for him (which implies some level of wealth, but not so much as living in a house full of butlers and maids), but the general vibe I’ve gotten is that Charles’ family was well-off enough that they hired help.

If we assume that Charles and Ellie are biological brothers who spent enough time together to form a notable bond, it really seems like they would have grown up in the same household for both of their youths, together. So then, what gives with Ellie’s appearance? The patched up jacket, blemished face, and basic cigarette don’t match at all with the pristine white mansion with hedges that many might imagine for Charles. How would that have played out?

Option A: Ellie was the family’s rebellious wild child

I’m having trouble coming up with good examples, but there’s definitely a trope out there of a big brother character who’s a bit of a rude rebel, but still a pure-hearted dreamer that their younger sibling(s) can really look up to. Ellie was just the member of the uptight Cuevas family that couldn’t be tamed, no matter how hard his parents tried to cramp his thrifty style or stop him from going out and partying(?).

Notably, this option is quite confusing for Charles. Even if this figure is considered the typical epitome of cool, I don’t know if it’s someone who Charles would really gel with. As a child, Charles is depicted as pretty wide-eyed and innocent with his adorable little bubbles. I’m not saying that that kind of kid couldn’t come to idolize their rockstar big bro– just that, if they did, they probably wouldn’t turn out like Charles. Still, it could be an opposites attract situation, or perhaps forgetting Ellie and the ensuing trauma changed Charles more than we would have expected.

This interpretation is also… a bit of a leap, considering what we’ve seen of Ellie.

Like, these are not particularly the expressions of a thrill-seeking party animal who loves to crack open a cold one with the boys. Most of his expressions look wary, scary, or contemplative, and even the two that are smiling are doing so in more of a wry/teasing way. Fun-loving scamp Ellie might fit the way he’s styled his body, but not so much the expressions on his face. Perhaps the characterization was a little off?

Option B: Ellie was the family’s edgy black sheep

Instead of Ellie’s cigarette and messy ponytail implying that he’s supposed to be punk and cool, perhaps they’re meant to indicate that he was more emo and nihilistic. I don’t imagine that the Cuevas household would’ve liked this too much either, but it’s still a plausible way for a privileged teen to rebel against his family system. This kind of attitude matches more with the range of expressions we can gather from Yoidoreshirazu.

However, if it would be hard for Charles to relate to the last guy, I have no idea what Charles would be doing looking up to this guy. Maybe if their one-on-one moments showed Charles the soft heart behind Ellie’s tough exterior, Charles would’ve come to appreciate his perspective on life…? Yeah, I don’t really imagine these two enjoying a plate of pancakes together, either. Also, this would have been when Charles was, like, a kindergartener.

But if that’s the case, what then? Is my image of the Cuevas household just totally off? Or is this version of Ellie not compatible with the Cuevas household at all?

Option C: Ellie was kicked out of his family and left for dead

Especially in front of the grimy brick background and neon street sign, Ellie’s worse-for-wear appearance did make me think that this image of him could have been taken from a time when Ellie was without a home and living on the streets. As in, this look was never associated with the Cuevas household at all.

This option has some definite appeal because it allows a lot more flexibility from Ellie’s personality before he was kicked out. He could have been a stand-up guy, smart like Charles and a great mentor too, and only have adopted his more dour personality once he was kicked out of home. There are plenty of reasons why someone could be disowned that don’t (necessarily) reflect poorly on their character: Google lists being LGBTQ+, dating someone of a different race or religion, getting someone pregnant, or not following the profession your parents wanted for you as possibilities, depending on who the parents are and what they believe.

Any interpretation where the Cuevas parents are somewhat ashamed of Ellie would also help to rationalize why Mr. and Mrs. Cuevas lied to Charles about being an only sibling. If they really loved Ellie, they might have tried to bridge the subject with Charles one day, and not let the memory of their elder son fade into history. If he was someone they didn’t want to associate with in the first place, covering up his death would have been much more emotionally viable.

So, if the Cuevas parents are the kind of people to disown their kid for less-than-fair reasons, Ellie could have still been the kind of treasured big brother figure to Charles one might have expected while also getting kicked to the curb. However, this option raises the definite question of… how did Ellie’s death happen?

On the surface, that might seem like a strange question. Sadly, homeless people in the United States have an average life span that’s 17.5 years shorter than the average housed person’s life span, and the number of deaths have only been increasing in recent years. Especially in a civilization that was once home to the biggest, most awful, most tragic event in human history, trying to survive without a home might be quite difficult.

All that doesn’t really apply to Ellie, though, because we have a pretty decent lead on how he died: dog attack.

Even if he might not remember why, Charles dislikes dogs, and has a remnant of that turbulent relationship etched into his very skin. Ellie actually likes dogs, an interesting point of contrast, but one that makes it clear that dogs are important to Charles’ backstory in some manner. I and others have then speculated that the attack in which Charles got that scar on his arm may have been the time at which Ellie died. Both events– the attack that created the scar and Ellie’s passing– were erased by his childhood amnesia.

The story would play out as something along the lines of “Ellie and Charles used to both really love dogs, and were approached by a dog one day. However, that dog was feral, and attacked Charles. He was bitten on the arm before Ellie told Charles to run as Ellie stayed behind to protect his brother. However, Ellie couldn’t fend off the dog himself, and was instead mauled to death. Charles escaped with an injured arm and a head full of trauma that would cause him to fully erase the memory of his brother from his mind.” Don’t know how feasible that exact scenario is, but I always imagined it as something like that.

So, if Ellie was living on the street at the time of his death, how would the two of them have come together for the dog to attack? Maybe Charles could have been visiting Ellie on his own, but, again, he would have been 8-11 years old at the time. Would the 8-11 year old Charles have really had the means or motive to set out alone to see his brother, and would the Cuevas family have really let their elementary school-aged son wander off into the streets alone?

Then there’s the issue of Ellie’s age again. Look. I’m not trying to say that every 23 year old should be able to 1v1 a feral dog in a fight. I’m 23, and if I had to fight a street dog to the death, I would probably lose! However, while I am a quiet nerd who likes to write thousand word essays about anime video game fanfiction characters in her free time, Ellie seems like a fairly athletic young man. If he looks like Charles, he’s also probably around Charles’ height of 5’9”. Plus, it probably didn’t have to be to the death. Couldn’t Ellie have used those long legs to run away, or his human hands to make an improvised weapon, or something? To me, it feels much more plausible for Ellie to have been killed in a dog attack if he were also a child/teen when it happened. But, that should be incompatible with his appearance in the MV. Unless–

Option D: Ellie became this way… after he was “dead”?

Wait, what? No, wait, I thought I had already determined that Ellie was dead! What do you mean it might ACTUALLY MAKE MORE SENSE IF HE WAS ALIVE??? WHAT HAS THIS MV COME TO?! AAAAAAAAAA–

Well. If this version of Ellie is what he “became” after he faked his death (or had it faked for him), certain elements start to line up. There is no conflict with the Cuevas family, because Ellie’s personality could have been completely different than what we see in Yoidoreshirazu. Similarly, we don’t have to solve why Charles would have built such a bond with this guy because this guy may not have existed when he was interacting with Charles. The brothers growing up in a household together would make it considerably easier for them both to encounter a mean dog at the same time. And, if Ellie didn’t have to reach this 20+ age before he disappeared from Charles’ life, the whole story could have been set much earlier, such that Ellie could have been fending the dog off when he was more of a kid or teen himself. Then, being separated from his family and presumed dead is what caused Ellie to lose his faith in life, take up his smoking habit, and hardly be able to sleep or smile.

This could still involve him being forced to live on the streets, although I would then wonder why he didn’t ever try to get back in contact with his family. Maybe he did and they turned him away? But, if he was an admirable son, I see no reason why they would do that. Perhaps he had expressed a bit more discontentment with the Cuevas family prior, and decided that, given this opportunity, it was for the best to sever his ties with them? That seems like a pretty extreme decision to keep up with given the state that Ellie seems to have wound up in, and would call into question how much Ellie cared about Charles if he was so willing to leave him behind.

It would kind of make more sense to me if, in this scenario, an outside force was stopping Ellie from reuniting with his family– for instance, if XF-Ture Tech offered Ellie a deal like they did to Min (somewhat forcing his hand), which included that he could never contact his family again. That could certainly make Ellie more important to the plot moving forward, and explain part of why he even got this MV. But, what would XF-Ture Tech want to do with some kid who was just near-fatally mauled by a dog attack? An near-fatal attack that… he doesn’t even seem to have scars on his face, neck, or right hand from???

Option E: this is how ellie looks in heaven or hell or whatever i don’t freakin know

Some of you may have been screaming at me the entire time that Ellie’s design may not be “canon,” so to speak, and you know what? That’s valid. It could simply be a projection of what Ellie could have looked like if he’d ever grown to this point in age, or his appearance may have been modified to better match Gumi’s disheveled vibe in the original Yoidoreshirazu MV, and not reflect his true personality. Ellie and Gumi do have really similar poses, cigarettes and all.

However, it would seem a little odd to me to give the audience what’s basically an AU design of Ellie before we got the original version. That would lead to insanely wrong conclusions like what I just wrote above if true, which could potentially cause people to interpret future content incorrectly. That’s not good. Besides, the song was still chosen for Ellie, and the song carries the same sort of gritty, nightlife vibe that the Gumi design does. Could the lyrics of the song really fit Ellie so well that the entire energy of the song and appearance of the MV could be waived?

#5: What’s up with these lyrics?

Sigh. I hate to move on to the next talking point when I haven’t yet resolved what we were last discussing, but, to be honest, I don’t know if I can resolve why Ellie looks and acts like that with the information we currently have. I’m kind of banking on the lyrics swaying me in the right direction when it comes to that interpretation, but given that I’m probably going to have to reverse engineer a lot of the lyrics’ meaning, I don’t have high hopes.

Well, we’ve already seen how I think these lyrics would apply to Rose, so how do I think they would fit Ellie? More questions ahead, but please note that I may be taking certain lyrics more specifically than they’re meant to be interpreted. I don’t have much else to go off of, so for the sake of gaining pretty much any knowledge I kinda have to assume the lyrics are total slam dunks.

#6: What can we learn about Ellie’s personality?

I woke up as an unaware drunkard All of this bickering goes on til the dawn comes

Ellie wakes up and immediately begins to complain. Unless he’s bickering with himself, he isn’t alone, although that doesn’t necessarily mean he has friends. In the original song, I imagine this lyric to be more about passersby or the general state of the world, so it could be the same case for Ellie.

In Ellie’s case, it’s unclear exactly what being a “drunkard” means. It could just be the literal interpretation, where Ellie is an alcoholic. I wouldn’t know. Being a drunkard could also extend to being an addict in general— we can be pretty certain that Ellie is a smoker (unless see Option E above). It could also be that the “drunkard” part of the phrase is less important and it’s more just about being unaware. Although, that would require further interpretation for later lines like “getting drunk again and again,” and Drunkard is also half of the song’s title (“An Unaware Drunkard”). Still, Elliot could be enveloped in the same sort of general haze I described back when I gave this song to Rose. Or, he could literally just be a guy that likes to drink a lot. Either way, it gives off the impression of someone who spends more time centered in his own world than butting into others’ businesses.

The singing voices are uncountable And once one gets lost in them, they end up at your xx Hey, look at how pretty it is, the day dream rondo I hide a thousand and can only spit out ten

More introvert coding– he really doesn’t like being in large groups of people. Ellie keeps the same pretty neutral expression throughout all of these lines in the MV, which makes it kind of hard to discern exactly what these statements mean for him. Like, is “look how pretty it is” supposed to show how he’s easily distracted by dreams and frivolous things, or how he’s using positive things to distract those around him from how he “hides a thousand and can only spit out ten”? In either case, that latter line seems to imply that Ellie is dissatisfied with whatever he’s doing in life (or death?) right now– “can only spit out” makes me think that he feels he should be doing more.

Giving in, I’m living Getting drunk again and again, unexpectedly- Ah, it's not half bad

Ah, the infamous screenshot from the presumed dead man. This smirky face gives some definite context for the attitude of these lines. Ellie seems smug or proud that he’s living… because he’s beating the death allegations? Well, it could also be that he just enjoys living a life of sin (smoking and drinking), and/or enjoys defying the expectations of the Cuevas family in this way. There’s also a certain irony to saying “I’m living” while flaunting a cigarette in his hand. Ellie may also be someone who enjoys tempting fate and defying the odds.

Ellie’s facial expressions with these lines make me believe that he actually thinks that getting drunk again and again is pretty cool, and it’s not just a deflection from a tumultuous mind. Which, again, begs the question of whether the “drinking” is literal, or a metaphor for something else. With not much other information to go off of, I’m kind of assuming it’s both at the moment. Ellie (in this state) probably is someone who drinks and enjoys doing it, but also someone who doesn’t feel any guilt over ignoring– or forgetting– his problems.

#7: Did Ellie also forget about Charles?

There are a strange number of lines in this song that could imply that Ellie isn’t just being ignorant, he’s actually forgetting about something big. That something could be the memory of his younger brother, just like how Charles forgot the memory of his elder. Runs in the family, I guess?

I woke up as an unaware drunkard

Starting at the very first line, you could begin to view the lyrics through the lens of someone who lacked information about their past: “Elliot woke up somewhere random mostly forgetting who he was in a hazy state of being.” To be clear, I’m not saying that that’s the interpretation of the line, just an interpretation of the line. It’s an interpretation that builds further connections with later lyrics, though.

And then The sacred mountain is covered in mud, it’s smeared and chipping away, ah yes, it's not half bad

That's my muddy, obstructed, and broken vision of the future- It’s not half bad

These lines focus on something being damaged or broken. Ignoring the original song’s references to Mount Penglai, which are completely absent from this MV, I would interpret a character’s “sacred mountain” as their central motivation. The pursuit of this goal would be very important, or “sacred” to them, and just as majestic as it is difficult to traverse and achieve. That pairs well with Ellie losing his view of the future, as both indicate that he’s completely forgotten what his purpose in life is.

And yet, he insists that it’s not half bad. Why? The most likely reason is that, for whatever reasons made him look like this, Ellie has just adopted the same sort of fatalistic behavior as Gumi did in her MV. However, you also might not think that forgetting something was bad if you ever forgot that you forgot it. For the majority of his life, Charles hasn’t thought that forgetting Ellie was a terrible ordeal because he had no clue that Ellie even existed. For Ellie, it could be frightening to know that you’ve forgotten a lot of who you are, but also freeing. That dichotomy could be what resulted in his current pensive yet playful behavior.

Getting drunk again and again, unexpectedly- Ah, it's not half bad I'm a drunkard unaware of my rival in love, so

I'm a drunkard unaware of the story

These lines are ones that really made me think that Ellie could have forgotten Charles in particular. I’m really not sure what “rival in love” was supposed to mean in the original song, but for Ellie, that rival being his brother makes sense. He doesn’t have a lover, as far as we’re aware, but he may have had to fight against Charles for his parents’ affections in the past. Many siblings have a competitive relationship with one another, so Charles could also be described as a rival who Ellie loves. Charles is an easy stand-in for “the story” as well, as long as we assume that the main plot of the killing game is considered “the story.” Charles is a major player in the killing game who’s already been going on a major story arc of his own, and, being Ellie’s little brother, it would make sense if Ellie’s priorities in the story were Charles-focused were he aware of the killing game.

What would it mean if Ellie had forgotten Charles, though? It seems most likely to me that, if both brothers came to forget one another, the trauma would have stemmed from the same event. But, if Charles forgot about Ellie because of that dog attack, Ellie could have only had time to forget who Charles was if he survived for long enough after the attack to have that revelation. Also, don’t know how important this is, but if the attack gave Charles childhood amnesia, would it have had the same effect on a 20+ year old man? I don’t know enough about amnesia to know if the same circumstances that would cause a child to discard their memories would also result in an adult forgetting about aspects of their life. Then again, Ellie almost certainly suffered greater damage than Charles, so any aftereffects may have been more severe.

I obviously can’t declare with 100% certainty that Ellie forgot who Charles was, nor can I even get particularly close. Still, these strange threads seemed to be too prominent to ignore, and this was the best solution I could find to them with the information we know now.

#8: Who is “you”?

Twice in Yoidoreshirazu’s lyrics does the singer reference a character as “you.”

Neglecting my happiness, I never want to sober up until it's time to listen to your voice I’m giving into you, but you don’t even have anything to say and my body is dyed

Please don't let this fleeting happiness go away, until I can lend an ear by your side I’m giving into you, but you don’t even have anything to say and my heart is dyed

This person is quite important to the singer, as the singer craves their voice and succumbs to their person, their body and soul colored by the experience. And yet, there’s a sense of isolation, as “you” refuses to say anything back to the singer. It’s a classic tale of immense devotion met with quiet rejection for Ellie to partake in with… someone. I don’t know who.

For what it’s worth, I do think the lyrics imply that this is another human person as opposed to, say alcohol. While alcohol can certainly have a profound impact on a person, causing their happiness to come and go and changing aspects of their physicality, “you” is referred to with enough human traits that it doesn’t match up. Maybe anthropomorphized alcohol could have a voice, but when has it ever needed you to listen to it? To my knowledge, lending an ear to the bottle itself is pretty unheard of.

So, is “you” Charles? That makes some sense, as Charles is the only relevant character to Ellie’s story that we know much about. Based on what we’ve already established about Ellie and Charles’ probable bond, Ellie could definitely fit the devoted older brother character in one flavor or another. But then, why would Charles have rejected him? Could be the whole childhood amnesia thing, but then Ellie would have had to exist during a period of time when Charles had already developed the amnesia and also remember who Charles was enough himself to care. Charles could have also just not liked him much, but that contradicts with the evidence presented back at Question 3.

Honestly, I don’t think Charles is “you,” despite my lack of other options. Perhaps “we” can figure this out?

worn out, we all look horrible until all thousand voices become hoarse

Yeah, there’s also a “we” in Yoidoreshirazu, which furthers the idea that, wherever he is/was, Ellie isn’t alone. The lyrics make it unclear whether the “we” is the singer + you (and maybe others), or just the singer + others– I’d probably lean that it probably wasn’t meant to include “you” in the original, but who knows how DRDTdev chose to interpret the song. Still, as alcohol isn’t normally described as “looking horrible,” this further implies that there are other human characters referenced in Ellie’s MV. In the case of “we,” Ellie also has to associate with these people enough to include himself as part of them. He’s in a group. Why? How? When?

#9: What differences are there between this MV and the original?

This one goes out to all the people who thought to go back and check the original Literature Girl Insane MV for differences while we were dealing with that whole project! It inspired me to try the same thing here, and see what happened.

Yoidoreshirazu is a much easier task than LGI, though, because it’s a simpler song and MV on all fronts. Both MVs only portray one character, one location, and one color for the lyrics to be transcribed in. (There’s also only, like, a max of twelve words on screen at a time, unlike David’s mental library.) For the most part, the two Yoidoreshirazus are very similar. None of the lyrics were edited from Magenetra’s translation on the vocaloid lyrics wiki, the lights turn on and off at the same times, and the DRDT version doesn’t appear to include any additional puzzles or easter eggs. Still, they aren’t exactly the same, so I’ll write out the differences I found playing them side by side for both my own and others’ purposes.

Gumi is on screen at the start, then quickly disappears and comes back, while it takes Ellie until the lyrics start to appear.

Not much extra to explain on this point. It may indicate that Ellie was missing or absent for a longer period of time, or at least that he’s more mysterious/quiet than Yoidoreshirazu’s Gumi.

Gumi has her tongue out a lot more at the beginning of the song.

Before Ellie takes off his hood (so, basically for the first half of the song), he only sticks his tongue out for one part of the song, from 0:52 (“getting drunk again and again”) to 0:59 (“my rival in love”). Meanwhile, Gumi has her tongue out from the moment the lyrics start (0:09, “I woke up as an unaware drunkard”) to the end of the first stanza (0:25, “all thousand voices become hoarse”), and then does it again from 0:43 to 0:59, the entirety of the first chorus (“the sacred mountain” to “rival in love”). This gives Gumi the appearance of being more rebellious, while Ellie is more moody.

Gumi smiles a lot more than Ellie.

When Gumi returns from the first chorus (1:00), she’s already smiling. While she shifts from a satisfied smirk to a smug grin to an enraptured beam to a content smile, she doesn’t actually stop smiling from the minute mark on until the vocals stop (2:10). Meanwhile, Ellie doesn’t smile at all until 1:50, and drops the playful tongue-out expression after a mere six seconds. The only lines that Ellie smiles for are “I’m living / Getting drunk again and again– Ah, it’s not half bad,” which is quite interesting. The overall result is the same as the bullet point above; that Gumi is at least better at pretending to be happy while Ellie is lost in his sorrows.

Ellie and Gumi’s expressions are pretty different in general.

Here are all of Ellie’s expressions versus all of Gumi’s expressions. In the end, Gumi actually had more expressions, which I wasn’t expecting. Some of their faces are mirrors to each other, while others are different.

Both Ellie and Gumi have a serious eyes closed face, a bored/neutral face, a bored tongue-out face, a scary face with big eyes, and a sleazy grin. The only unique faces Ellie has on top of those are the more playful tongue-out smile (present only when his hood is off) and the contemplative downward gaze. Gumi has a knowing smile, a hopeful smile, and a content smile. With those differences, we conclude that, on the whole, Gumi seems to have a bit more hope in the world, while Ellie is downcast. I’m sure you couldn’t have guessed that by the results of the last two points (/s).

Ellie has a costume change.

Not hard to notice; Ellie takes his hood off mid-MV while Gumi keeps her outfit the same.

There’s a part of the song where Ellie disappears while Gumi is present.

If anything in this question is going to be important, it’s probably this tidbit. At 1:39 in DRDT Yoidoreshirazu and 1:37 in original Yoidoreshirazu, the line “and my heart is dyed” plays. At this point in the MV, Gumi is present on screen, but Ellie is not. Gumi then disappears alongside Ellie for the following “sore wa” before both reappear for the chorus, but the difference is still notable. Something about the line “and my heart is dyed” caused DRDTdev to remove Ellie from the MV when he otherwise should have been there. This could mean that Ellie’s absence is what caused his heart to be dyed, that Ellie was actually absent when the heart dying occurred, or something else. Regardless, the difference in visuals– especially one that leaves the lyrics as the only thing on screen for you to look at– means that “and my heart is dyed” is likely the most important lyric of the song for Ellie.

Ellie is doing a whole lot more in the final chorus.

This is probably why I thought that Ellie had more sprites than Gumi did, other than the whole two outfits thing. Throughout the entire second chorus, Gumi only uses one face, the smile with big eyes. Meanwhile, Ellie rotates through four different faces before returning to the one he started with; scary stare -> neutral -> eyes closed -> grin -> tongue-out smile -> scary stare. It gives Ellie a whole lot more character than Gumi had in that final portion. Granted, the inverse is also true: Ellie switched faces less frequently than Gumi at the beginning of the song. It leads me to believe that the lyrics at the end of the song may be more important to Ellie than the lyrics of the start, as the end is featured as the most memorable portion.

#10: So, um… What did we learn, exactly?

Honestly… I don’t know. Unlike the Chapter 2 murder, which is intended to be basically solvable, or even the characters’ secrets, which have had much revealed with minimal possible permutations, so little has been confirmed about Ellie that it makes it near impossible to settle on one answer as absolute truth. I can write out my current best theory about what may be going on with Ellie, but it’s honestly so implausible that I don’t really think it’s going to be canon myself.

If we prioritize the information given to us in this music video and the Q&As and disregard the effects that our conclusion might have on the story of DRDT as a whole, then I think the most likely option was actually Option D, Ellie became this way after he died. I think that Ellie was a bright young man– maybe not perfect, but still an older brother that Charles could look up to. Ellie and Charles were really close when Charles was a little kid, and they loved to hang out and eat pancakes together.

One day– maybe when Charles was about 4 and Ellie was about 16?– Ellie saw a dog on the side of the road and, loving dogs, brought his baby brother over to say hi to it. Unfortunately, the dog was feral and mean, and it bit Charles on the arm, injuring him greatly. Defending Charles, Ellie attacked the dog and told Charles to run away for safety. Charles made it back to his parents, bleeding and horribly traumatized, while Ellie did not. Ellie never came back home, so his parents had no choice but to assume he was dead. They chose to conceal the existence of their elder son from their younger, whether to avoid triggering Charles’ phobias or because they too wished him erased from the history books.

However, even though the world believed that Ellie had died, he actually survived! Though, not in one piece. He was probably severely wounded (perhaps leaving behind scars on any part of his body that wasn’t shown in the MV), and, just like his brother, suffered amnesia that caused him to forget who he was. From there, it depends on how he would have survived the dog attack.

If he barely emerged victorious from the battle due to his own power, then, with no memories, he was forced to live on the street. He gained his washed-up attitude from experiencing life’s hardships while being right on the cusp of remembering something more.

If he received aid from and then was indebted to a group like XF-Ture Tech, he may have been given some kind of help, but not without a cost. He probably started working for them in some capacity, even if he wasn’t a fan of his work/coworkers, and gained his washed-up attitude from years of nihilistically supporting the shady company.

The MV takes place in a time close to present day, when Ellie is reflecting on the state of his life and what he does remember. He hates the people he’s surrounded by, and can only lean on his bad habits (substance abuse and/or appearing more uncaring/airheaded than he actually is) to get by. He knows that he’s a shell of a person with no memories of his past or aspirations for his future, but there isn’t really anything he can do about it, right…? The vague memories of a “rival in love” and a main “story” are the only things giving him a taunting yet unerasable hope.

Woohoo, drama. But, like, that’s ridiculous, right? The secret literally said that Ellie was dead! How the hell could he still be alive? Did the mastermind’s source– whatever it was– just have the facts wrong, or are they actually lying? Wouldn’t the Cuevas family have looked harder for the body? Does amnesia even work like that? Does XF-Ture Tech even work like that???

Needless to say, I am still quite confused. The answer above is still the answer that makes the most sense to me, but it also has its own obvious flaws. I feel like I must just be straight up wrong about the identity of the Cuevas family, the method of Ellie’s death, the age at which Ellie appears in this MV, or something like that, but I don’t know what it would be. Even more than usual, I’d love to hear everyone else’s thoughts on this mysterious character. I feel like more analysis of the guy is going to come out soon, so hopefully some of the more numerical data like trying to pin down Ellie’s age or noticing the differences in the two MVs will help someone else make a breakthrough. Still, I encourage you to come forth with anything you have to say, because I want to hear it.

Thus concludes your instructional pamphlet on how to write an essay on a music video at a rate of 54 words per second of the music video. Thanks for reading!

#danganronpa despair time #drdt #drdt spoilers #elliot cuevas #charles cuevas #fanganronpa #yoidoreshirazu mv #i “finished” the analysis hooray #wish i had a conclusion for it #this was a very different theory to write than usual but that did make it fun #i feel like i totally lost my mind in there somewhere though so hopefully i don't come out looking like too much of a clown #the heart is dyed thing dude... what does it mean...#also glad people are listening to yoidoreshirazu in this house we stan kanaria #my theories

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st4rboyhere · 1 year

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Evans on Valentine's Day + moodboards!!

Summary ➛ Some things I think the Evans would do for you for Valentine’s day.

Tags ➛ @famela-i @frqxto

Paring ➛ The Evans × gender netrual reader

Characters ➛ Tate Langdon, Kit Walker, (Post-death) Kyle Spencer, Jimmy Darling, James Patrick March, Kai Anderson, Evan Peters.

A/n ➛ I’ve been in the Ahs fandom since 2014 but I’ve never posted anything I’ve written about it so I decided now would be a good time to start, request are open <3

Warnings ➛ A bit of cursing and suggestiveness

❥

➛ Tate Langdon ☻

✎.. Makes sure its perfect.

Tate's sure you're a blessing sent from the angels above gracing him with a holy light to show they see the slightest bit of Tate redeeming himself by resisting his violent urges, and losing you would make him go more insane than he already is, with you the world just doesn't seem to be as dark and if you were to leave there's a chance he would hurt again.

Sadly, he doesn't have much access to the outside world so he gets Addie to buy you gifts.

kicks his feet back and forth as he wraps your gifts in old Christmas paper from back when he was still alive as he pictures your face lighting up from his gifts.

Does start crying though because he begins to think that you’re too good for material items along with him and you deserve to spend your day with someone not as horrible as him.

Afterward he gets Addie to steal a rose their mother gets from her hookups so he can give it to you.

His other gifts are two teddy bears that made him immediately think of you and him. a cheesy Halloween/valentines card, and chocolate skeletons.

He's so excited about your reaction, he's never had a valentine before.

➛ Moodboard

❥

➛ Kit Walker ☻

✎… He can pull, it’s really obvious. He’s had plenty of valentines growing up so gifting you should be a piece of cake, right?

Wrong.

As much as I love Kit I have the feeling he doesn't pay attention to others that much. That's not his fault though he's just always stressed or busy.

When he's overhears his friends about what they're getting their partners he freaks out.

Valentine's day isn't too long away and he hasn't got you anything.

He feels like a terrible partner and he really doesn't want to make you upset in any way so as soon as he gets off work he calls Lana to ask what's the hottest thing goin on in town for couples.

Drive-in horror movies.

He's not the biggest fan of horror movies, in fact, he's deathly scared of them but for you, he can endure it.

Gets the kids to make you a card and plans the day out for the two of you, milkshakes and stupid death beach movies.

He hopes this goes good.

➛ Moodboard

❥

➛ Kyle Spencer ☻

(Post death)

✎… He loves Valentines day so much.

Doesn’t really understand it at all, but he knows you like to spend lots of time with him and give him kisses and cuddle and really that’s all that matters too him.

He doesn’t like to go out in public since you won’t let him slip his hands under your shirt or slip let him take your hands and slip them under his shirt (not sexually he just loves physical touch) so he prefers to stay inside and cuddle.

Kyle waits until you left with the other witches to sneak outside and pluck daisies to give you cause he wants to show his appreciation for your kisses and cuddles.

Wants to hold your hand and hear words he doesn’t know the meaning of leave your lips and kiss them before you drift in eachothers arms.

Has a giddy smile on his face from the thought of it.

➛ Moodboard

❥

➛ Jimmy Darling ☻

✎… Like Kyle, he doesn’t really like to go out, his reason being that the two of you can have a perfect date right where you are.

Why spend money doing something you might not even like when you two can spend it at work!! It's just so perfect.

He’ll even get Paul to stop it when you guys get to the very top so you can just look at the stars.

Puts all his money together and expands his..side job to more women to afford a star necklace for you.

Wont shut up about how he’s going to bring you in for a kiss and put it around your neck before you get of the Ferris wheel.

It’s absolutely perfect, for someone who’s perfect in his eyes.

➛ Moodboard

❥

➛ James Patrick March ☻

(pre-death)

✎… He’s so incredibly romantic.

Wakes you up bright in early and showers you with kisses, waiting until you practically scream for him to get off of you (personally I would never do that)

Tells you to clear your schedule to cause the two of you are having dinner tonight.

Due to his incredibly busy schedule, he won't be able to spend the whole day with you which he dreads.

A lot of people like to check into the hotel on Valentine's day and he loves to pry on young couples, especially those looking for a threesome with a rich man who might take a liking to the pair.

Although their attempts at a wealthy life would be hopeless and James has his eyes only on you.

As he slits the neck of his last victim of the evening, he makes sure to call upon Mrs. Evers to clean the mess as he sets and private candlelight dinner where no one, even his maid, will be able to interrupt the two of you.

Won't be able to keep a finger off of you the entire night, pulling you in for a deep kiss every moment your words come to end.

Truly, he isn't trying to be rude when he says this but he does wish you would shut up so he can taste more of you.

➛ Moodboard

❥

➛ Kai Anderson ☹︎

✎… What the fuck..

I mean how selfish of you to even think Kai would even do something for you.

He has a job. He’s working to create the world into his perfect image. He doesn’t have time to spend on something silly like showing affection to you on a stupid day.

Why does Valentine's day matter if he shows his love for you everyday?

He gives you a small kiss if your upset because deep down he really does love you and he doesn’t want to lose you over anything.

You know he loves you though, he's just very busy.

➛ ahs masterlist.

#evan peters #evan peters smut #evan peters oneshot #Evan Peter Headcannons #smut #fluff #jimmy darling #kit walker #tate Langdon #Kyle Spencer #Kai Anderson #x reader #x male reader #x female reader #ahs x male reader #ahs x female reader

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boqvistsbabe · 2 months

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Update!!!!!!!!

Hey Y’all!!

Here is the start of hopefully monthly updates. I know in my last update I said I was going to be more consistently here and active. Obviously, that didn’t happen lol. Trying to hold myself to that rn. So this is probably going to be the format for all of my update posts, just so they are easier to follow.

Refresh:

So I am almost completely done with the blog refresh. I think all that is left is updating links and getting some other posts (ex: theme days) made/redone. Most of that got put on the back burner due to how long they were going to take lol. But hopefully, over Spring Break, I’ll be able to get those done (no promises, another thing I’m trying to do, is be more realistic about what I want to get done by when so).

Writing/Other Content:

Ik I said I’d write more. Once again didn’t really happen. Well, I have written a decent bit, but never finished anything. There is one fic that I am going to try and work on after this week (midterms lol) and have someone look over it (the first time I’ve had a beta reader, look at me go lol). Like the blog as a whole, I am trying to organize my writing, like requests and my ideas and what is going out when etc. (@ any of the other writers if you have any suggestions of what to/where to organize my stuff so it doesn’t get all confusing and mixed up you should def let me know). Speaking of requests, I am going to try and do at least two requests a month. That doesn’t sound like a lot but for me, that feels like something I can realistically do. I will be doing old requests first because even though they are years old at this point, I liked the ideas so I genuinely want to write them. I am still going to be accepting new requests (esp because sometimes that helps spark creativity/help with writer’s block so feel free to send in any ideas!!) but I will try to get those older ones done first. As for any other content (playlists, moodboards, IG edits, drawings, etc.) I am also taking requests for those so feel free to send in any of those requests too.

Another Blog?!

As of rn the second hockey blog has not been “released”. I want to catch up on things for this blog before I throw that into the mix and try to grow that as well. I am hoping to add that sometime this summer. Also, I do technically have a sideblog already (@samistheman) which is normally where I reblog random things, and I don’t really have tags for that blog I just kinda willy-nilly reblog there (it used to be mostly PJO stuff but now that’s kind of here because of how much of it there is lol).

Life Update:

College is a lot rn. I’m doing 17 credit hours and tbh do not know what possessed me to do that. At first, I was doing pretty good, but now not so much. Like I said earlier I have midterms this week. If y’all didn’t know this, I’m shit at taking tests so not doing great rn. Thankfully one of my classes ends on Sunday so at least I don’t have to worry about that. I’ve had a lot going on in my personal life recently that is impacting a lot so trying to navigate that as well. I am moving out in May, which is yes months from now but there is still a lot that I need to do beforehand. Anyway, I’m going to a college hockey game on Thursday and I am super excited. I haven’t been able to go to a game since October. Also little fun update, I’m going on a weekend (work) trip to Boston. Super excited for that. I’ll be getting to go to a Celtics game and a Red Sox game (I’m a Royals girlie tho). I’ve never been to an NBA game so that’s for sure gonna be really cool. I’ve been to many MLB games before but this will be my first at a different stadium. Anyway, I think that is it for this update. Hope y’all are doing well!!

As usual, if y’all ever want to talk dms/inbox are open <3

I am going to tag some moots, I am totally forgetting some people so I am sorry for that (if y'all could reblog that would be amazing)

@2manytabsopen @krugstrash @jimmystrudel @andreburakozy @sidneycrosbyhoe @fallinallincurls @timstuetzle @typical-simplelove @ilyasorokinn @drei-mrssvechii

#blog things

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alwaysxlarrie · 1 year

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you know it’s an alwaysxlarrie fic when ... + 2022 writing self evaluation

ok so i’m a tiiiiiny bit late to the game, so i’m just combining the two tags lol. thank you to @hellolovers13, @larrysballetslippers, @zannithinks, @lunarheslwt, @brightgolden & @momrryrights for tagging me in the moodboard challenge (that’s what i’m calling it lol). hope everyone enjoys my chaotic moodboard hehe & thank you to @neondiamond, @onlythebravest, @lunarheslwt, @greenblueish, @thedevilinmybrain & @loveislarryislove for tagging me in the self evaluation tag !! here we goooo

for the moodboard we’ve got 2013 larry bc that’s my fav era & how i always imagine them in my fics, football player louis, santa’s sleigh, office space, cute notes on a white board, a clothing rack, new york city & gentle touches. i don’t think i need to say there’s not any specific mood theme going on here for anyone to figure that out LMAO but i did try my best regardless :)

1. Number of stories posted to AO3: 9!

2. Word count posted for the year: if i’m counting correctly ..... 93,735 ????

3. Fandoms I wrote for: one direction. i have a fic for the 5sos fandom that i’ve written a few chapters for & was editing it in an ao3 draft but then the page refreshed for some reason & i lost everything & kinda lost steam, so .... maybe it’ll see the light of day next year

4. Pairings: louis/harry, zayn/liam (side pairing), shawn/niall (side pairing)

5. Story with the most…

Kudos: i swear i could give you everything

Bookmarks: also i swear i could give you everything lol

Comments: it’s i swear i could give you everything again LMAO

Hits: gimme everything you got

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why): i think i’d say either gimme everything you got or i need something, so tell me something new. gimme everything you got bc i put a lot of my personal experience (give or take) into it & it got such a positive response & that made me super happy. i need something, so tell me something new bc it’s my first ever published fic in general & fic in this fandom.

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why): oooof. prob my sub harry fic. i enjoyed being apart of the fest & i enjoyed the experience, but writing it was so much harder than i’d anticipated & it felt like my writing got very redundant after a few scenes. i’m glad i stuck it out & that i published it, but yeah i def don’t think i did it the justice i’d wanted to.

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received: i’m really enjoying all the reviews/comments i’ve been getting on my cinderella au! it’s my first chaptered fic that i’m posting chapter by chapter, so that’s been really encouraging. but in general, i appreciate all the comments i get. as a small/new writer, i don’t expect to get any comments at all really, so whenever i do, i get excited. there was a comment on my christmas fic santa, won’t you bring me the one i really need? where someone said it was the best christmas fic they’ve ever read :)

9. A time when writing was really, really hard: the sub harry fic lmao. i love service kink harry fics so i was like alright sweet this will be a no brainer & basically, i fucked around & found out. i literally went through like 5 drafts until i finally found a premise that went w the prompt i was using that i felt i could build off of without turning the fic super predictable & dead end. i think if i’d waited to do that type of fic next year & done more research than i’d done for this one, it would’ve gone much better.

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: the beginning of my cinderella au -- i’ve been very vocal about the fact that i write only fluff fics to balance out all the angst in our fandom & then i go & write a cinderella fic & make the first two chapters packed w angst LMAO. it’ll turn around soon, but that’s def the biggest one as of yet for me, i think.

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing: i’m not sure if i have a favorite tbh, but i like this one from i swear i could give you everything: --------------

“So what have you got for us today, Haz?” Louis asked, knocking on the table with his fists, excitement and anticipation both thrumming through his body.

“Well, I was just messing around in the kitchen last night, really,” Harry began, messing with the hem of his shirt and seemingly determined to continue looking at the floor as he made his way towards the fridge a few feet away from the table Louis was now sitting at. “And then I realized I had the ingredients. So. I just figured. Why not, you know?”

Louis furrowed his eyebrows, trying to piece together what Harry was talking about. All he’d done was ask Harry what he’d made. He guessed the ingredients were relevant to the conversation and he did enjoy listening to Harry talk - even if he really was talking some shit - so he decided to humor him.

“Oh yeah, sweetheart?” Louis prompted as he placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin on one of his hands.

Harry was apparently too busy rummaging around the fridge to even glance back at him when he responded. Which wasn’t rude, really. Louis just. Wanted to see his eyes, was all.

“Yeah, so like. I thought you might enjoy it. You talk about it a lot, anyway. So I figured, I might as well, if I have the ingredients, you know?”

“Sure, sure. Absolutely. No point in having all the ingredients if you’re not gonna make a good meal out of it.” Louis had completely lost the plot at this point but was still determined to try for Harry.

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

12. How did you grow as a writer this year: well let’s start w the fact that i began the year convinced i’d remain a reader & beta forever. so the fact that i’ve published one fic, let alone nine, is pretty big in itself lol. aside from that, i’ve gotten more comfortable writing smut & dialogue. before i wrote fics, i only wrote original stories & never included dialogue, so those were my biggest weaknesses when i first started writing fic & they’re still not my strengths yet, but i’ve definitely gotten better, i’d like to think.

13. How do you hope to grow next year: i def want to get more comfortable writing smut & building sexual tension. i want to write longer fics. i want to finish at least 5-10 of the 20 wips i have lol. i’d love to finish all of them, but 5-10 is a good goal. i want to write some different genres like historical, slow burns, etc.

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc): i have a few! @loveislarryislove is a big one -- if i need help w a metaphor, making sure a sentence sounds right, incorporating tension building touches, brainstorming, honest feedback, etc, annika is my pea in a pod. also @panye, steph is so lovely & helpful when it comes to brainstorming, talking out what phrasing sounds better, she tells me what needs fixing & how to fix it; basically, she’s the better half of our shared brain cell. @zanniscaramouche is pretty much the reason i feel as comfortable as i do writing smut. she’s patient, she gives examples, she’s kind, she knows just how to change wording around to make a description or dialogue top tier. @justanothershadeofblue, is my sprinting buddy (along with zanni when our schedules align!). having a daily sprinting buddy who cheers you on is delightful, especially when they’re as supportive & willing to get sidetracked in off topic convos w me as zjo!

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: gimme everything you got is based on personal experience in terms of the stigmas that come w female masturbation / women being shamed for exploring their bodies. i work in retail, so while that didn’t inspire it’s like i’m powerful with a little bit of tender, it def helped me know bts info lol. lastly, i’ve recently switched my major from psychology to interior design & my minor from interior design to psychology, so i guess my (new) major showed up in you are my destiny (you are the reason that i still believe). hostile work environment was also inspired by my retail job as well LMAO. there’s more in my wips tbh, but as for my currently published fics, that’s it, i think!

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: just remember that how ‘popular’ or ‘unpopular’ your fic may be / may get isn’t an indicator of your talent. write something bc you want to write it, not bc you think it’ll appeal to people. take breaks -- if you’re stuck on a scene or sentence, get up & do something else for a bit. if you keep rereading the same sentence over & over, it’s only going to keep sounding more & more scrambled. you’ll work much better with a clear head & will be able to see where the mistakes -- if any -- actually are.

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: my cinderella au for sure! i started a fic inspired by one of my fav fics staring across the room by the lovely @allwaswell16 & it’s been put to the side for much longer than i’ve wanted. i initially put it to the side to get more practice writing tension building, but def want to finish it next year. i also finally started the sequel to my girl direction fic, so that as well. & the sequel to my christmas fic lmao. i have lots of things i need to finish 😭😭

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read: i honestly don’t know anyone who hasn’t done or been tagged in either of these yet, but i’ll tag a few anyway lol @lululawrence @thebreadvansstuff @panye @kingsofeverything @voulezloux @infinitelymint @londonfoginacup @twopoppies @littleroverlouis @tommokat @crinkle-eyed-boo @disgruntledkittenface @kingonafiftymetreroad @daggerandrose @homosociallyyours @ireallysawanangel & anyone else who wants to do these!

#tags and challenges #my fics #my writing #fic q&a #finally did it with one day in the year to spare #not counting tomorrow at least lmao #wooooo

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mbtiblogfun · 1 year

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Meet the Admin!!

A bit late but I'm going to pin this post for future viewers!

🌸 The Basics 🌺

Name: Kat

Age: 17

Pronouns: she/they

Country: USA

Typology: INFP 6w5 694 sp/so EII FEVL Phlegmatic [Dominant]

🌟 About the Blog 💫

What's the main purpose of this blog?

This blog mostly focuses on INFP related content. I'm not super knowledgeable when it comes to typology, so I mainly just focus on INFPs in my posts. It made the most sense to me because it's my own type, so obviously I have the most knowledge on it lol. Of course, anyone can enjoy this blog if they want! Not just INFPs!

Stuff I've done:

INFPs irl and in fiction

INFP moodboards (based on the enneagrams that fit w the type)

INFP playlist

Examples of romantic relationships between INFPs and other types in fiction

And more!

Why did I create this blog?

I’ve had an interest in typology for a while. I think my main goal was just to create fun content for myself and others to enjoy. I've always wanted see more of this kind of content when it comes to mbti, because a lot of people take it too seriously imo. I see a lot of people using typology to dictate their entire views on themselves and other people, and while I have a huge interest in psychology, using mbti to form your opinions on other is no better than using astrology to do so. Mbti is a pseudoscience anyway, so this blog is really just meant to be fun!

🍰 More About Me 🧁

Astrology: Aquarius sun, Leo moon

Fav color: pink

Fav food: Domino's Pizza or Shake Shack

Top 3 Movies: Fantastic Mr. Fox, Before Sunrise, and But I'm a Cheerleader

Top 3 Shows: Stranger Things, Narcos, and Hannibal

Top 3 Anime: Attack on Titan, Yuri on Ice, and Sailor Moon

Top 3 Video Games: Minecraft, Animal Crossing, and Mario Kart

Top 3 Artists: Lana Del Rey, Arctic Monkeys, and Cigarettes After Sex

Top 3 Books: The Book Thief, Song of Achilles, and Rebecca

Other Hobbies: writing and drawing

🌙 Typology Journey ☁️

How'd I get into mbti? Well basically it all started one day in 5th grade. I was bored and procrastinating classwork lol. I've always enjoyed taking tests that analyze your personality (like the uquiz ones), and so I googled "personality tests." Then sure enough I came across 16p, and my obsession with typology began. I got INFP-A the first time, and I've gotten INFP-T ever since. I sent the test to like everyone I knew cus I wanted to compare results w them, and I got really into mbti skits and youtubers (basically Frank James lmao).

Then a couple years later I discovered PDB (Personality Database) after looking up "infp fictional characters" or something like that. I then found out that 16p wasn't super accurate or something, because they typed people by letters and not the cognitive functions. I actually had no idea what they were and why they were important, or why letter typing was "less accurate." It turns out letter-typing is frowned upon and seen as less accurate by like half the community because the cognitive functions were actually part of the original theory. I learned that the letters are basically just an oversimplified version of the actual functions in order to help beginners understand better, but when you type someone you don’t actually ask if they're more introverted or extroverted and what not.

Anyway now back to the important stuff lol.

I was one of the lucky people who was actually typed correctly by PDB. I took more "accurate" tests like Sakinorva and Keys2Cog, but I still got INFP even then. I even read more about the functions and my type online through my own research, after I found out that even the more "accurate" tests weren't always reliable. I also asked a few of my friends I met through PDB, who understood mbti better than I did, and asked them. Pretty much everyone said I was an INFP, so there was that.

As for enneagram, I just took a test and got 2w1. I didn't have as much knowledge on enneagram, so I went with that. Then when I asked people what they thought for my enneagram, a few people said 4w5, and once again I didn't question it. As for my tritype and ivs those were pretty easy to figure out with some explanation, and I went with 496.

But for a while I always found myself relating to the 9 traits more than 4 traits, especially sx 9. And a lot of people actually agreed with me, some said my 9 traits were too strong to only be one of my fixes, so then I typed as INFP 9w1 for a while.

And then, pretty recently I found out that was actually impossible. As you may know, not all type combinations are possible—and that includes INFPs and 9s. At first I thought people were being stupid and over-exaggerating, how would their traits contradict? But then I eventually found out that most "INFP 9s" are actually 6s, because 6s and 9s look very similar— especially sp 6s. So yea now I'm officially INFP 6w5! I basically ended up switching around my tritype order a bunch of times lol

As for the other parts of my typology, like socionics. I didn't really put much effort into that lol. I can somewhat understand mbti and enneagram, but I barely understand anything else. So once again I asked other people what they thought and pretty much everyone agreed on EII, and that was it!

So yea, sorry that was so long lmao. Thanks for reading! :)

#meet the admin #admin's thoughts #get to know me #hi guys #about me #mbti #mbti blog #mbti types #mbti personalities #myers briggs #infp personality #infp #16 personality types #infp mbti

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hiccanna-tidbits · 2 years

Photo

HICCANNA MONTH WEEK 3, DAY 7 - AU FREE SPACE MOTEL POOL MERMAID AU

Happy AU free day!!! I was inspired to expand on this post I made a while back, and here we are! I blame @ohlooksheswriting for taking me down with her in her magic realism spiral XD I’ve been thinking about road trips and mildly-spooky liminal spaces (i.e. backwater motels in the middle of nowhere/super isolated wilderness-y areas) a lot, and thus this AU kind of wrote itself XD

Art from the original post inspired the moodboard a lot, as you can see! I kinda like the red-and-green color scheme for them--red to go with Anna’s hair and vibrant personality, green to go with Hiccup’s eyes, sass (idk green is just the color of sass to me???), and general vibes.

As always, moodboard pic credits available upon request!

***

Anna was all too quick to agree to the impromptu family road trip, hoping being trapped in a car for several hours will finally get her ever-aloof sister to open up. Elsa is leaving for college come the end of the summer, after all--and if this is truly their last hurrah, Anna’s last chance to reach out to her sister, then she wants to make it count. They were going to bond so much on this drive--Anna just knows it.

They did not bond on the drive. The lack of a phone signal as they drove through miles and miles of pine forest meant that there was not a scrap of wifi or internet to be seen, and Anna couldn’t check social media or text her friends to occupy herself. She tried to get Elsa to play some classic road trip games to pass the time--I Spy, 20 Questions, Shout If You See An Animal, the works. The last one was what Anna was most looking forward to, and of course the one that yielded the poorest results.

Elsa was having none of any of them. She was perfectly content to bury her nose in some gothic novel (how on earth did she read in the car without getting nauseous, Anna wondered), and griped any time Anna interrupted her. She wasn’t even interested in discussing the plot when Anna asked, claiming it was the kind of deep, dark, and tragic story that her baby sister simply “wouldn’t understand.”

Restless and frustrated after a long, aggravating ride, Anna couldn’t be more glad when they finally pull up to the motel that night. It’s a lonely, decrepit little place, all retro-feeling flickering red neon signs and dilapidated infrastructure. The picture-perfect budget road trip motel.

Anna wonders if it’s haunted. She feels strangely eager at the thought--whether the hypothetical ghosts were friendly or not, they sure would spice things up, at least.

She gets a different kind of surprise when she decides to go for a night swim in the pool, hoping to get some of the excess energy and irritation out before she goes to bed. Before she can get lost in her thoughts (and concoct a new plan to get that stick out of Elsa’s ass), she keeps catching glimpses of a flickering movement out of the corner of her eye. When she finally tracks it to the bushes just outside the pool, her curiosity piques.

It’s hard to tell, with nothing but the glow of the red motel sign and the lamps in nearby windows for light, but it looks like there’s a long, shiny green tail somewhere among the leaves. Braving the cool night air in nothing but a bathing suit, Anna goes to investigate the rustling bush.

She sees something trying to squirm out the back, but whatever-it-is doesn’t get far. The bush-rustler now scooting rapidly toward another thicket--now in the full light of both the moon and the hotel signs--appears to be a naked teenage boy (well, that’s awkward)...that is, until she notices that this boy is not in possession of any legs.

Anna certainly didn’t have “find a merboy hiding in the bushes by a hotel pool” on her road trip bucket list, but she’s willing to make adjustments. In fact, this just might be more interesting than ghosts.

As often happens, Anna is reduced to stuttering and asking stupid questions when in shock. “You’re--you’re a--why aren’t you in the water?!”

The merboy pauses before answering--green tail lashing, matching eyes looking like they’re doing a calculus problem. “...because you were in it? And seeing me tends to get screams once people realize I’m not a really detailed floatie?”

When she just stares at him, trying to take all this in, he sighs and goes on. “Look, I’m not used to people actually using the pool. Usually folks just pass through--stay one night and then hit the road. The swimming pool’s kind of a deadzone.”

In a fortunate twist of fate, Anna doesn’t fall into this category. Her parents were deadset on seeing some obscure state park in the area, and this was the closest and most affordable place to stay.

She’s going to be here awhile.

“So no one else has ever noticed you in there? People swim so rarely that no one’s freaked out and reported you to the news? Do you have to hide every time someone comes swimming? How do you even get out in time? What do you do when the pool cleaners come? How did you get here in the first place? What do you eat? Do you have to eat the bushes? Or dig in the trash cans like a raccoon while everyone’s asleep?”

He only ends up answering a few of her questions. Hiccup, as it turns out his name is, once lived on the west coast--that was, until he ended up in the nets of a ruthless opportunist and got sold to a seedy traveling circus. He arrived at the hotel in a tank in the back of a semi-truck, and just barely managed to squirm out and off into the bushes while the circus workers unloaded. As a slow scootch through the woods at the mercy of bears and mountain lions didn’t seem ideal, he made a home in the motel pool after the circus left without him. He’s gotten by ever since by being hypervigilant and quick, getting out of sight as soon as someone comes to the pool or camouflaging as a bizarrely realistic decoration. His diet is berries from nearby thickets on a good day, and half-eaten muffins and burgers from the trash on a bad one.

He’s accepted his rather sad new life, but he misses his orca Toothless more than anything. He longs to return to the ocean, but a cross-country trek for a boy who need to be submerged in water at least once every 2 hours and has a flopping-along speed of about 0.25 miles an hour is hardly feasible.

And thus begins the most unexpected adventure of Anna’s life, introducing Hiccup to pillow mints (the really good kind with mint cream and dark chocolate), vending machines, funny ocean animal videos on her phone, and chocolate chip pancakes smuggled right out of the continental breakfast hall. Before she knows it, she’s half paying attention during family hikes, busy hatching a plan to steal a semi-truck and a water tank and take Hiccup home.

When Elsa inevitably discovers Anna’s secret new friend, Anna is prepared for the worst--only to somehow get her sister in on her plan after about 45 minutes of frantic rambling and pleading. In yet another pleasant twist of fate, it would seem rescuing a constantly-annoyed and very cynical merboy might finally be the thing that bring Anna and Elsa together. However, the sisters have to be prepared to be arrested, stalked by sketchy performers hunting down their missing main attraction, and/or make their parents very, very angry. One thing is for certain, though: this will be a trip--and a summer--that Anna will never forget.

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duskholland · 3 years

Text

Crash Into You || Tom Holland Smut

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

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

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

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

✧ *:･ﾟCrash Into You ･ﾟ:*✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. What happened?”

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

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

Yelena scoffs. “Losers.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” he tries. “I am.”

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

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

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

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

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

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhmm.”

“3, 2, 1, go!”

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

“Shit,” Tom mutters, grimacing.

You smirk. “Told you I’d beat you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tom gulps nervously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you ever tried it?” he asks.

“Not properly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tom cackles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. “Okay.”

“Follow my line in.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me too.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

Tom follows you…?

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

Interesting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s cute.

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

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

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

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

Y/N: hey x

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

Tom: hi xx

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

A few weeks pass, and it becomes a habit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, is it a home game?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Give me a spin, darling.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dutchy! Five minutes! Hurry up!”

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

“Dutchy?” you question.

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

You coo. “That’s cute.”

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

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

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

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

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

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

And Tom… Tom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?”

“Stay behind after the match and ask him.”

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

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

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

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

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, coach.”

“Good. See you tomorrow.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Friends?” Tom confirms, expression perking up.

“Yeah. Friends.”

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

“Yeah. They thought you were hot.”

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

“Did you?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you think I was hot?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, darling.”

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

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

“What, sweetheart?”

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

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

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

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

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

“D’you want to—”

“Oi, Dutchy!”

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What— Tom?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No problem.”

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

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

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

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

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It’s noisy in the arena.

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking hell. That looks like it hurts.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Penalty.”

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

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

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

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

“Mmm. Harry said so.”

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

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

“Funnier than me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

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

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

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

“Y/N!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

A smile breaks out across your face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Overnight?”

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

You roll your eyes.

“Okay, boyfriend,” you agree.

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

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

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Close your eyes first.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

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

“You can open them now.”

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

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

You look up at him, tears blurring your waterline.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

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

#tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland fluff #hockey!tomfic #tblr....please let me in the tags...? please?

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saintwhumpolas · 2 years

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Ho ho HAHAHAHAHA!

It’s Christmastime, whump community! And Saint Whumpolas, patron saint of whump, is looking forward to the fun! If you’re sighing at how un-whumpy the presents under your tree seem to be, if your gingerbread dungeon dreams became a plain old gingerbread house, if your stocking isn’t stuffed with hurt and maybe some comfort…then this is the event for you!

This is Saint Whumpolas’ Whumpy Secret Santa, a whump community event where whump creators anonymously gift writing/art to each other and try to guess who’s got who!

How It Works:

Step 1. Sign up for the event by December 5th

Step 2. Get assigned a fellow whump blog to make something for

Step 3. Send in your whump creation to Saint Whumpolas

Step 4. Saint Whumpolas will deliver all the presents on Christmas Eve! Try to guess which whump blog created a gift for you, and see your gift blog’s reaction to the present you made for them!

The Rules

• I’m cutting sign-ups off at midnight Mountain Time on December 5th. If we end up with an odd number of blogs, I’ll jump in to make sure everyone gets a gift- if you’d like to also volunteer to be on emergency standby instead of/in addition to signing up to make and receive a gift, let me know!

• Please don’t sign up if you can’t make something- we want everyone to get a gift!

• From December 5th on, you’ll get an ask in your inbox from this blog, letting you know who you’re making a gift for, their favorite tropes, and their dislikes/squicks- PLEASE MIND THEIR DISLIKES/SQUICKS. It will not be fun to get a triggering gift on Christmas. You don’t necessarily have to adhere to their favorite tropes, but keep them in mind as you write/draw/whatever.

• The deadline for gifts is at midnight Mountain Time on Christmas Eve. PLEASE HAVE YOUR GIFTS SENT IN BY THEN.

• Since part of the fun is going to be guessing who made each gift, please don’t post your gifts publicly! I’ll provide an email for you to send them to, and I’ll post them on this blog- the gift in your inbox will be the link to your present! (After the event is over and you’ve been guessed/revealed yourself, feel free to post your creation- gift blogs, you can absolutely reblog your gift once you’ve gotten it!)

• I’m gonna say that since this is a Christmas event, gifts must be SFW.

• I’m also gonna say that since this is my first go-round hosting an event, we’re gonna keep it to OC whumpees only for this year. It could get tricky if someone gets asked to write a fanfiction for a fandom they know nothing about, so for this year, OCs only.

• Minimum word count for writers is 500. You can go over as far as you want- I’m sure people would love to get a Lord Of The Rings-length epic in their inbox- but please have at least 500 words for your gift. I don’t know enough about art to put anything specific down for artists, but if you participate please make sure to put a little effort into your gift! (A meme you spent two minutes photoshopping, for example, does not count as a gift. Drawings, doodles, moodboards, comics- all acceptable.)

• For the first…hmm…fifty people to sign up, I will try to match you with a blog who shares your interests (that’s twenty-five pairs.) After that, it’ll be randomly assigned, just so I don’t get overwhelmed.

• Clearing up a few things: your gift is supposed to be a thing you make, be it art or writing or whatever, using your gift blog’s OCs. You’re basically gifting them fanfiction/fanart, and receiving fanfiction/fanart in return. Also, the blog you gift to will not be the same blog you receive a gift from. That way we keep the mystery bit.

• One more thing: I’ve gotten a couple asks and messages now from whump blogs who don’t use OCs. I’m not trying to exclude you guys. If I repeat this event next year I’ll make sure to come up with a way for y’all to join in. This year, though, I just can’t make that work- I have a lot going on, and I think keeping it to OCs only for this year will help me not get overloaded- the last thing I want is to have five hundred or more blogs sign up, get overwhelmed, and shut the whole thing down because I can’t handle that much this year. That being said, I have no problem if someone wants to set up a version of this for fandom whump creators this year. Y’all deserve Christmas fun too, and I’m sorry that I can’t be the one making that happen this Christmas. Next year if I repeat this, I’ll fix it so that it’s all one big event!

• Use this Google form to sign up!

Merry Christmas and happy whumping!

#saint whumpolas #whumpy secret santa #whump #whump community #whump event

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flightlessangelwings · 2 years

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Jey’s top 5 fics of 2021!

I was going to post this on New Years but with tumblr being a butt about the tags I held off. Instead of posting that whole tumblr year in review post since it’ll end up being super long, I decided to just compile my top 5 fics from the year and give a short commentary on them instead. All these fics I’m super proud of too so I’m so happy these all did so well! Let me know what you thought of any of these or if you’ve missed them and this is your first time seeing it! I love to have feedback on my works!

Thank you all so much for reblogging and supporting my fics!! It means so much to me!! And I’ve got plenty more in the works for 2022 so I’m not going anywhere! Much love to you all!!

5- Grant a Name to a Buried and a Burning Flame ~ Chapter 1, Hades!Din Djarin x Persephone!gn!reader (Posted Jan 21, 527 notes)

I am SUPER proud of this au! I love Greek mythology so I had a lot of fun adapting the myth to the Mando lore and making something very different and creative. It’s a little bit different and I took creative liberties, but I think they worked well. Plus, the moodboard I made for this is one of my all time favorites! And I also have to say that people have been rediscovering this mini series lately and it makes me so happy!! The other 2 parts are on my Masterlist if you’re reading through this for the first time 💖

4- Keep You Safe, Frankie Morales x gn!reader (Posted Feb 22, 551 notes)

Protective Frankie just slaps, what can I say?! This one actually took me some time to get right and I ended up rewriting half of it too before I was happy with it. But I’m happy with the end result! And I also loved writing the platonic relationship between reader and Sati too, it was a fun little bonus in this fic!

3- Take Care of You, Joel Miller x fem!reader (Posted Sept 20, 588 notes)

Joel my beloved!!! I think my love of Joel really shows in this one too lol! This idea came to me so easily too and it wouldn’t leave my head til I wrote it, and I wrote it pretty quickly too lol. I’m soooo happy this one did so well too and people liked it just as much as I did!!

2- I Got You, Marcus Moreno x afab!reader (Posted Jan 8, 680 notes)

Marcus!!! He does not get enough love anymore after the initial buzz from the movie died down but I still love him! And I had fun with this one, and was so happy to get this request! It's one of my favorite tropes too: training leading to smut lol! And the switching dynamics was so fun to write too and it works so well with him!

1- No Stranger to the Dark, The Darkling x gn!reader (Posted May 7, 1109 notes)

My first and only fic as of now to break 1k notes and I am so honored! I spent a lot of time on this fic to make it perfect and I’m so happy people enjoyed it too! Of course, my personal favorite part was all the pining and the protective Darkling lol. I still think about adding more onto the story but I don't know where to go from there lol. Maybe one day inspiration will hit me

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #joel miller x reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #the darkling x reader #aleksander kirigan x reader #marcus moreno x reader

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felassan · 3 years

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Jon Renish (Foundation Technical Director @ BioWare, working on DA4) recently did a Twitch stream where he played through some DAO. Although he works on DA, this is his first time playing through DAO. He’s playing through it looking at random details from a dev perspective as he’s currently working on DA4 and therefore wants to know more about the previous games.

On the stream he mentioned some tidbits on the development of DA4. There were also some insights and anecdotes about the development of DAO and similar. It’s a 3 hour stream so I collected them here in case that’s of use to anyone (for example not everyone can watch streams which don’t have subtitles/captions). The stream is a fun/interesting watch though, so if you’re curious or able to watch I recc doing so. 😊 The rest of this post is under a cut for length.

Please note that there’s some paraphrasing on my part, this is not a transcript. There are also some additions from another dev who featured on the stream to give some commentary. The stream also contains more snippets that at times I couldn’t make out (I tried my best!).

(There is a mention of Cullen’s VA in the text below.)

DA4

Jon said he can talk about things about DA4 that aren’t “consumer-facing”, but he can’t say anything about the game that would be consumer-facing but which isn’t already publicly available. There are several reasons for this. One, that’s not his job, there are people whose job this is and they let each other do their respective roles. Two, BW are a publicly-traded company, so if he said something that could affect that that would be insider trading. Three, they’re not done making DA4 yet, so if he said that they have added [x] to the game and people got all excited about that or pre-ordered on that basis, but [x] ended up being cut, people would be like ‘BioWare lied to us’, when it’s just that things changed during the course of development, as is often the case

He’s glad that fans are excited for the game but notes that fan expectations are always double-edged. It can be really tough as some people started ‘playing’ the game in their heads as soon as they heard of it. That’s fine, he loves that, but he hopes that peoples’ expectations don’t turn into requirements. Clearly BW have alluded to certain characters, like Solas, being in the game, but some fans say things like “If [say] Morrigan isn’t in the game, then, rahhh!” Y’know, there’s a lot of talk about how certain characters have to be in the game, and yeah.

On characters which are quantum (i.e. characters which can die or which can have similar end-states as death in previous games): their being quantum makes it really hard for the devs to work with those characters in subsequent games. The devs naturally aren’t going to put as much effort into characters which could have died previously. A character can have had an amazing appearance throughout/role in a previous game, but if there is a risk of something happening to them and of them being removed [effectively] from the plot, it just doesn’t make sense to have them as a major character in a subsequent game. If a character can, say, sacrifice themselves in some glorious ending, the devs have to make sure that if they use them again, in worldstates where the character didn’t do that, the character is kind of ‘muted’, as the devs don’t want to disrespect the players who made a different choice

A comment in chat expressed a wish for Shale in DA4. Jon’s response is that he has no idea on that front

Bugs don’t come out of crunch, they come out of development in general. Crunch does impact on the quality of a game though. In recent years BW are always really trying to reduce crunch, they’re currently working really hard to bring it down. The best way of doing that is by controlling scope. As creatives it’s tough to balance wanting to make great stuff and be industry-leading with the desire to constantly do extra passes over things they’ve created like the audio, art etc. Their biggest enemy is time, other ways of reducing crunch or time spent in general include iterating tools to make often-repeated processes as time-efficient as possible

I think the following was an observation on the industry in general as opposed to a BW-specific/-exclusive comment: he thinks that as a result of this sort of thing [working to reduce crunch], a lot of games are going to have to be smaller and a lot more focused in scope i.e. the devs will have to focus on hitting the key selling points of that particular game/series as hard as they can, and cut down on branching out sideways/wide on a bunch of random other stuff

Jon doesn’t personally engage in character creators in games, but he knows that for some players that expression is worth a lot of time and focus. BW want to be industry-leading in this kind of stuff as it’s something which is interesting/key/integral to their games

In a way BW have made their own nest of problems what with every DA game being so different to the previous one. Still, he notes that each game has a staunch fanbase that says that their particular favorite game is the best one in the series

He doesn’t want people who think that DA4 isn’t what they want to buy it and be upset - there are so many other great games out there! BW are going to make the game they’re going to make - if some people like it, that’s great, and if some people don’t, that’s cool. Sometimes waiting until reviews are out and/or really seeing beforehand if a game is something that you want [has things/features in it that you want] prior to getting it - as opposed to jumping right in or pre-ordering - is a good idea. Fans don’t always know what they want, but they do know what they like - these are 2 different things

He hopes that whatever they ship for DA4, people go “I enjoyed this experience”, and that then, if there’s additional content for it down the road, people can decide, “do I want this further content?”

On hair: BW are using the new hair technology in the latest version of the Frostbite engine, so they’ll see what they can do! This was said in response to a comment about the hair in the latest FIFA games (as EA make FIFA)

A comment in chat asked about a flying mechanic (griffons). Jon’s response is that flying is such a heavy gameplay mechanic that you can’t put it in a game without everything in the game being built about it (see Anthem)

Relating to the above comment, in DA4 mounted combat would be cool but then they’d have to make the game ‘around’ mounted combat and make the mounted combat feature meaningful

On the underwater concept art: it should not be interpreted as a promise of gameplay. BW have amazing artists who sit down for a couple weeks while they’re in early production and just draw loads and loads of all kinds of stuff. Concept art is like a moodboard or Pinterest board. Elsewhere in the stream he advised, take all the concept art together like a mosaic and ask, ‘what is the overall theme[s] here?’, and to zoom out from individual details. [This stuff echoes PW’s word on concept art]

BW don’t generally write things or the choices as bleak as the choices in DAO were anymore. This is a conscious choice on their part, they want their game to be fun [note: this was said when the side quest in Orzammar where the Warden has the option of convincing a dwarven mother to abandon her young baby to die was being played through. It seems to refer to intensively grimdark choices/beats of this kind]

I think this was more of a general comment on games: SSDs (solid state drives) mean that players will see shorter elevator rides (Mass Effect - was this a reference to the remaster?) and fewer switchback corridors (those are actually loading zones). Generally, these are going to change mechanically the time it takes to do stuff in games

The devs have lots of features on their backlog that they’d like to offer players but each will ofc involve implementation and subsequent maintenance, and each one that is chosen to add is being chosen over something else. And sometimes, it’s hard for them to tell if [x] feature or [y] feature would be better to add to the game

They’re about to work on a giant feature (a pure tooling feature, something that isn’t consumer-facing) that is probably going to take ~2 staff years of effort [I think “staff effort” includes multiple staff working concurrently, so 2 years of staff effort doesn’t = 2 years of time chronologically] to get done in the next few months. They’re investing all this effort across the people working on it because they don’t want their artists and designers etc to have to deal with the problem that it’s going to solve anymore. I’m not sure what this feature is but elsewhere in the stream they referred to tooling and automation and gave the example of, the better your tooling is, the fewer times you have to manually set the camera for a human vs elf vs dwarf position, for dynamically-generated [cinematic?] content and for the first pass to be automated (if this is the case, less time is spent/wasted on redoing it and manually touching it up) [see last bullet point in this section]

He doesn’t know how big DA4 is going to be but said “let’s ballpark and say like most games it’ll be somewhere between 70 and 100 GB”

If we kept our Wardens as the PC throughout all 3 games, at the end they would be so powerful that it’d be a bit like “Let’s just do [thing], I’ve killed gods before, whatever”. He thinks it’s good that they have fresh characters each time in DA in order to reset that power level. Some people want more Commander Shepard in the next Mass Effect and he feels like, ‘what else could you possibly want / what else could that character possibly do after 3 games?’

When asked how much freedom he/they have now to focus on next gen, he said that there’s actually almost no difference on that front. The problems never change. They now have better renderers, better ray-tracing, better graphics cards etc, but they have always made DA games for high- and low-spec PCs, so it’s actually about gameplay systems. The freedom isn’t power-based and them getting access to more cores and more RAM generally isn’t going to change how the games are played. The games still have to be made for hard drives on PC. Dev creativity matters more than power here. The challenge of building a BW game is more about/from managing loads of different plotstates, loads of different art pieces, etc

On the title situation (two): names are the last thing they worry about because names have to go through legal before being approved. Every name, including character names, has to be checked in case it’s a famous person, or associated with something bad, or offensive in a different language due to localization etc

They don’t do face scans of people with big beards

There was also a bit about changes/developments to/in the cinematic design process and associated tooling [?] but I found it too hard to follow sorry >< This bit of commentary begins at timestamp ~ 1:52:45 and continues til ~ 2:00:05 [keep listening through the bit where they pause for a cutscene]

General BW

There’s currently ~350 staff in Edmonton, ~200 in Austin and more elsewhere

He notes that DA games sell pretty well, but relative to EA games in general, they’re a drop in the bucket compared to FIFA

DAI

5% of players of DAI never created a character [Q: does this refer to people who just used the default appearances/presets with no editing, or people who only played multiplayer?]

The mounts don’t actually go faster than running, this is an illusion

I think they said it has 55,000 lines of dialogue. [I’m pretty sure I remember devs elsewhere saying it has 80,000 lines of dialogue]

One of the companions had to have their name changed during development because of legal/translation reasons. It sounds like the original name sounded too close to something offensive

DA2

Back when DA2 was internally code-named “Nug Storm”: this was at the beginning when it was pitched to the team on a set of slides. The image on the slide for that pitch had devil horns, a metal hand and no flesh, it was just made out of fire and flames

DAO

The engine DAO is made on is the third engine that they tried for it during development. [David Gaider has gone into the DAO engine stuff some on Summerfall’s series of DAO playthrough streams]

The cracks on the cracked eluvian asset are modelled after the crack on the Tardis in Doctor Who from around that time, as at the time some devs had been talking about Doctor Who a lot. A dev actually added this factoid to DAO’s entry on TV Tropes but someone else (evidently not a DA dev) came by and deleted it saying that it was too much of a stretch x)

Before the game had its name there was an HTML script that randomly generated possible titles for consideration, it adds verbs and nouns together e.g. “Grim Dark”. One of the craziest possibilities that it once generated that the devs always remember is "Bone Wind”

One of the portraits that’s used for decoration around the world in-game (it’s of a bearded human man) is actually of a specific BW staff member

He played through Stone Prisoner, where Wilhelm’s son Matthias gives exposition in the cellar. Matthias is voiced by GE and this had been pointed out to Jon earlier on. Jon: “I don’t think that character’s voice acting was super strong there”

On the in-game area towards the end of Stone Prisoner: Outdoor areas in games are large and one of the things needed for them is streaming, so different chunks can be ‘streamed in’. There’s a tower [?], and technically the top of the tower was made an outdoor level so that sky stuff could be there, though it didn’t really need to be. The person that made it an outdoor level chose the very smallest chunk size for the terrain mesh, which determines how fine of a streaming they do. So when playing, every time you moved like 4 meters, the game would stream out 50-100 chunks behind you and the same in front of you (this is the bubble around the player of what actually exists). Because it was so small, it was constantly thrashing the CPU and disc to do all the loading. The devs were like “this isn’t going to work”, but they barely had any time. The solution: they made a new level that was outdoor and copied all the sunlight and other settings, but with the largest chunk size. They copy-pasted the entire level from one to the other. The problem with that many chunks then is that there was a giant expanse of flat terrain sticking out of the middle of the tower. They didn’t know if the story was going to involve shots of the outside of the tower for this sequence or not, so they took the terrain deformation tool and bundled all the terrain vertices at the bottom of the tower in a giant clump. So to this day there’s a mess of vertices and twisted terrain at the bottom of the final level that probably no-one has ever seen [not sure though if this anecdote is in reference to a place in that DLC or somewhere elsewhere in the game?]

There were also some tidbits on Anthem, however I didn’t note them down (sorry).

If you think I misheard or misunderstood anything from this stream please let me know and I will edit/fix it. :)

(Thankyou to some of my friends who explained a tech detail from this to me.)

[source] <-- current rewatch link

#dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #dragon age #bioware #video games #greg ellis mention #morrigan #queen of my heart #solas #mass effect #anthem #next mass effect #i love these factoids and insights into game dev it's so interesting and fun #i actually started this post yesterday but 2 hours in I was so sleepy (it was mad late) so I called it a night

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itsnothesameasitwas · 3 years

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hiii! this month I’ve read a lot of great fics, so I decided is time to start my monthly fic rec… that means I’ll be doing a short fic rec and recap every month with my favorite fics of the month

note: the fics I’ll be mentioning weren't necessarily posted recently

!!! - please be careful and read all the tags and/or warnings before start reading and left kudos and nice messages to the authors <33

❀ Divinely Blessed by thinlines @thinlinez | 17k | Explicit | ABO | fic post

“I heard you, Ni. But what do you mean?”

“What do you mean what I mean?”

Harry rolled his eyes as he shoved his alpha friend down onto a seat. “Did you mean you lick someone out or…?”

“Nah, mate! It was me! I got licked out!” Harry could only stare at Niall in horror.

Alpha Harry prides himself on having the bravest and most caring omega who might or might not just fulfill his sudden curiosity.

note: for some reason i don’t know i fell in love with the ABO and found this fic someway and WOW! it’s really fluffy and sweet and while i was reading all i could think about was “god! i really want someone who love me like Harry loves Lou and viceversa” and also has a great smut scene, funny and well writen (cliff ily babe)

❀ Promise me you won’t run away by thinlines | 23k | Explicit | ABO | Español

“Does kissing me stop you from having bad thoughts?” Harry asked, voice muffled into the collar of Louis’ dress shirt. Louis chuckled at this. He trailed a hand down Harry’s back, feeling the muscles tensing along with his touch.

“I guess you can say that. You’re a good distraction.”

“Then I will be the best distraction.” Harry answered, pulling back and watched Louis’ lips unashamedly.

“Come distract me, then.”

Or the Prince/ Knight AU in which Harry left Louis, but the omega never once gave up on them.

note: this fic is beautiful and really REALLY well written, i need to say i cried and im the most cold person in the world but this caught me and I LOVED IT! but also when i finished it i got mad because in the end notes was the spanish translation and i read it in english lmao; anyway i love it!!!... summing this up, the fic made me thought about that LOVE ALWAYS WIN <33

❀ Twist the knife by jishler @jishlerfics | 6k | Explicit | Angst / Smut | fic post

Infuriating, but Louis missed it. Louis missed him. His thighs and his chest and breath and warmth and toothbrush next to Louis’. He missed sex with Harry but he missed his presence more: Louis would settle for watching Harry get himself off if it meant he got to see him; hear the voice that was like a soothing balm over all his wounds.

Two weeks after their breakup, Harry wants his toys back.

note: i definetely don’t read smut in purpose and the reason i’ve read this was because i love the moodboard BUT i need to thank the person who put it on my dash because i liked it so much!! was fun to read and the smut is pretty well written :))

❀ Hold you now by solvetheminourdreams @solvetheminourdreams | 131k | Angst with happy ending | fic post | playlist

The string within Harry's own sweatpants is now dangling outside of his pocket, stretched so far out that the seams of his pants have tightened. His eyes remain hyper focused on Louis, how oblivious he is—scrolling through his phone without a care in the world, while Harry feels his tilt on its axis.

Three years ago, Harry Styles said goodbye to communications consultancy firm McQuiston Worldwide, leaving a life of travel and agency PR behind. When he accompanies his best friend to a family wedding across the Atlantic, he'll be forced to reopen old wounds and face his past—one that no one wants to hash out, but may just have to.

note: at the end of the first chapter i was emotional, is the kind of fic that you feel every single emotion, the one you literally feel are part of it... it’s perfectly well written and please give it a chance and check all the stef’s works because she’s a super talented writer... if i say something else i’ll probably do spoilers so, shut up ana.

❀ The money mark by brightgolden @brightgolden | 52k | Explicit | ABO | fic post

Harry's heart beats faster in his chest as the name sinks in. The Tomlinson name is awfully familiar, and he isn’t sure how many rich Tomlinsons are out here in London, but he knew one. Seven years ago.

Like all fine things in the world, Louis Tomlinson ages exceptionally well.

Where Louis is Harry’s first sugar daddy who dumped him over text and their paths cross, seven years later.

note: THIS IS MY FAVORITE FIC OF THE YEAR. sorry, but this fic is super well written, is omega harry + alpha louis and find smth like this is almost impossible! but i loved the fact that harry could be an omega and a sugar baby but he’s independant and strong and wow! it’s amazing; everyone should read it because it’s really good!! (ps. louis is the alpha of my dreams, he’s a complete gentlemen)

❀ Sweet like candy by neodiamond @neondiamond | 4k | General Audiences | ABO | fic post

Louis is an Alpha with an odd obsession for gummy bears. Harry is an Omega who makes friends a little too easily. They meet on the bus.

note: this is the cutest fluffy fic I have ever read! strangers to friends to lovers <333

❀ Literally making love by Brooklyn_babylon @twopoppies | 30k | Explicit | Robot/Human Relationship | fic post

Holding up one of the android's eyes to the workshop’s windows, he smiled as the light picked up the gold flecks in the pale green of his irises. Louis had always paid attention to even the tiniest details.

All Louis intended to do was rescue someone in need from loneliness. He had no idea it would be himself.

note: science + me = signal error BUT this fic. OMG. how to say this is one of the fics would be in my recap at the end of the year; i have read another fic by Gina and was really good but this is probably my favorite between both of them... all i know and want now is to create my perfect partner lmao.

❀ I’m gonna keep this love, if you let me by pixies @tomlinbuns | 26k | Explicit | ABO | fic post

Louis makes Harry pretend to be his boyfriend one night out. The rest is history.

note: this one is simple to discribe... the best of the best. one of my favorites abo fics, funny, teasing and very romantic. i enjoyed so much read how these two guys fell in love with each other. god bless this fic <33

❀ Beautiful stranger by lovelarry10 @chloehl10 | 66k | Explicit | ABO / Mpreg | fic post

“Did you want to- oh. Uh, sorry, I-” Harry stuttered, licking his lips as he looked over Louis’ bare torso, not focusing on the ocean ahead of him. “You’re very distracting, Lou.”

“Trying to tell me you haven’t seen a topless Omega before?” Louis asked, walking back to his rucksack and grabbing a bottle of suncream out of it before returning to stand by Harry.

“Not one as stunning as you,” he thought he heard Harry mutter as he started to rub the cream into his shoulders.

*****

When Alpha Harry Styles attends the Gucci Cruise 2020 show, he knows what to expect: clothes, clutch bags, and a few too many pretentious people. What he doesn’t expect, however, is to run into an Omega who is more beautiful than anything on the runway.

note: this fic is from 2019 but who cares, i loved it so much and i want to thank/blame @justalarryblog because she unintentionally recommended it to me in her abo fic rec post and now i want someone like this harry in my life... is it too much to ask? because is one of the most beautiful abo fics i’ve read this month and wow. if you haven’t read it yet, what are you waiting for??

❀ Waiting on you by beckywritesthings @beckydoesthings | 21k | Mature | Mpreg | fic post

“Do you want to touch?” Harry asks, taking one of his hands off to tangle with Louis’. His open invitation finally drags Louis’ attention away from his baby and up to his face, blue eyes wobbly with emotions. It’s clear that he’s too taken to really form words, so Harry takes the initiative to press their laced hands against his shirt fabric, warmth from the skin radiating through.

Louis pushes his shirt up to his chest, taking Harry’s hand and pressing it to hold the fabric in place. His hands return to warm skin, palms even more scalding now that there’s nothing in between them. And then, as if that wasn’t enough for Harry’s heart to handle, Louis leans in, pressing his lips right above his belly button.

“Hi, baby,” he says, lips moving across his skin softly. “I’m your… I’m Louis.”

Or Harry is pregnant with a stranger’s baby and Louis doesn’t know. It’s a minor detail that Harry’s both living with Louis and in love with him. No big deal.

note: this fic is really new, someone reblogged the fic post and when i saw it first i was like ‘huh?’ and then suddendly (in less than a minute) decided it was the next thing i’ll be reading and now i’m completely in love with it. Lou i need to say you’re the kind of guy everyone wants in their life <3

-----------

❀ all the love, ana. xx

#monthly fic recs #larry fic rec #trackinghome #1dsource #tracksintheam #it's too late to publish this??? idk and idc hope someone like this #and again thanks to the author for their amazing fics!!!#28th appreciation #my fic rec

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comehomeducklings · 3 years

Text

Present [Part 1] (Obsession)

A/N: Please don't copy, redistribute, and/or post my work on this site or any others. This has taken my time and creativity to come up with the story's characters and plot.

Also, I swear my writing gets better. It's a little rough right now but I'm planning on rewriting them.

Tom Riddle's Moodboard

Main Character's Moodboard

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

1943 ~ 6th year

No sound above whispers could be heard throughout the great hall. The food on the table hasn't been touched by a single hand. The very thought of eating churning all our stomachs. Not during these times. Our heads turn every now and then, afraid of what might sneak up behind us. The death of Myrtle and others has shaken the entire school. A murderer is among us, trust is such a foreign concept now.

Dark purple eye-bags lay beneath every single student's eyes. No one is allowed to go home for the holidays. They aren't allowing us to leave, we are stuck in this cloud of darkness and uncertainty. No owls are supposed to be sent out. As the head girl, I'm responsible for every student's life and responsibilities. I have to know where everyone is at all times. It gets tiring at times, but necessary nonetheless.

A nightly routine consisted of all my dormmates huddling around each other. No sleep would come to us all night. We wouldn't move from the same spot until light shown from the windows. Our beds are all pressed together in the farthest corner of the room from the door. Our wands never leaving our hands in case of danger. Every little sound made from the outside provoking us. Even to the point of going mad. Potions used to stay awake, slowly wearing off as the morning arose. No sleep, we can't afford that luxury anymore.

I would leave the dorm to wait at the portrait for our assigned house professor to come. They would tell me it was safe for everyone to head to the great hall to get breakfast. As soon as they were done I quickly went to everyone's dormitory to wake them up, if they even slept at all. I would then inform them that it was safe to step out of their dorms. After everyone got situated I would have the students form a line and lead them towards the great hall. 1st-3rd years would occasionally hold the folds of my robes. Fearing that when they blink I would be gone. Leaving them alone to deal with the dangers that lurk in the school.

Not once have I lied about how they are going to be all right. That would be cruel. These students don't seek pathetic nurturing words, they want a protective force watching over them. So many clubs and activities have been canceled. Hogsmede and quidditch proving as a prime example. No one complained though, quidditch players too afraid to even step out of the castle's walls even if they were allowed.

Back to the present, I hold my good friend's hand as she slightly shakes from anxiety. I can see it in her eyes, the doubt of making it alive eating away at her brain. The spark once present in her shiny green eyes being blown out. Amelia, her name being. She's been biting her nails again, to the point where it had bled. This can be backed by the dried-up blood that is present at the tip of her finger's nail.

A booming voice can be heard, "You are now being dismissed to head to class, your houses head girl and boy will be assigning the group you'll be heading off with."

First period has been removed from every perfect and head's schedule. During this time we search the whole castle for any wanders. We make sure everyone is where they are supposed to be. If someone got lost or went to the wrong class we escort them to where they need to be.

After every class, students have a limited amount of time to get to their next lesson. Although, perfects and heads get more time to make sure everyone is where they are needed quickly. Then we hurry to our class after scanning the halls swiftly.

The once safest school of the wizarding world giving birth to the dark ages. More bodies have been found littering the schools. Most of them not found until their ghosts appear before us. Every single one not knowing how they died. Like the murderer is invisible upon meeting the victim. I originally suggested it could have been done by poison. When the bodies were checked, no traces of poison had been traced.

Professors have been waiting for the person who is responsible to slip up, to give us a clue. I don't think that will happen though. The process of these killings has been too thought out and well planned. I wouldn't be surprised if these mass killings have been planned months before, even maybe years. I've been talking to the ghosts to try and gather all details, even the potentially useless ones. When our headmaster made us heads keep tabs on everyone, the killings stopped for a short amount of time. It was like the mastermind was creating a way to best us, to get past the "little inconvenience." It didn't take long for them to find the weak parts in the plan.

What we have got though, is that every single student killed has been a muggle-born. A classic case of an unfair stigma around the poor wizards and witches. They never were able to catch a break. Amelia, one of my close friends in the friend group. She's a muggle-born, hence the shaking of her hands. I've been keeping a closer eye on her, she doesn't leave my side. She comes on my patrols so I can keep her in my sights, with of course the permission of the teachers. There are only two times that I can not watch over her. Those two times are covered by my other friend Devyn, a pure-blood. She also helps keep her safe, not letting her go anywhere by herself. The two times are because she's in two different classes than I am. One of them being a study hall.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

"Professor, how will this class help us now? Reading teacups for predictions should be the least of our worries right now," a student at the back of the room exclaims.

"The said predictions could lead us to the future before it happens. Our worries lay exactly what will happen in the future. If anything, this is one of the most important classes we'll take this year," I say, continuing to read the teacup.

"Precisely, thank you. Now go back to studying, I'll be coming around to view your interpretations."

My tea leaves look more like a blob with a cross going through them. A weirdly shaped blob. I already know there is a cross, but what about the blob? I tried shaking it a little, looking at the leaves from different angles. I already crossed off a club, falcon, and the sun. It could be an acorn, but I see a slight hole in the blob.

Could it be...

"A skull that is." I jump at the sudden voice near my ear. My teacup almost falling from my grasp.

"Pardon, a what?"

She points towards two holes in the blob, one of them I just mentioned, "I saw you already found one hole, there's the other. How it's shaped could be a little difficult to see since the cross is through it, but it's there."

The professor takes the cup from my hand and lays it on her desk. Some of my classmates look at me in curiosity, but they soon lose interest and go back to their own tea leaves.

A cross and a skull, that sounds about right to how my school year is going so far. I scan my book to see exactly what they mean.

A skull, danger in your path.

A cross, trials and suffering.

"What d-did you find?" A Hufflepuff boy to my right asks.

I don't want to scare the poor boy, he's already frightened enough as it is. If my future got around to the school, everyone would start being concerned about me. I'll barely get any of my duties done if I didn't already get it taken away for my safety. Last thing I need right now is even more panic.

"Nothing much, the future is still a little foggy."

"That's, um, good. I couldn't really read mine either," he chuckles lightly, almost seemingly forced.

Our professor claps her hands together, "Class is dismissed, read up about your predictions if you haven't already. No homework today."

I gather my books and push in my chair. Right before I could reach the door where other students are waiting, the teacher stops me.

"I'll have to tell the headmaster about this, I shouldn't keep it a secret."

"No, please don't. If you must, only tell Albus. I can't have this messing anything up, I'll become vulnerable."

The professor looks around the room, her eyes wandering franticly. I'm sure I am asking a lot from her. I really need her to keep this a secret.

"Oh alright, you're my best student. I just would hate to see anything happen to you. I'm informing only Albus to see if he can keep an eye on you."

"Thank you so much, I swear I'll be careful." A huge weight is lifted off my shoulders. I can't be worrying about my future when I have to worry about everyone else's.

I leave the classroom and start heading to my next class. Potions have always been one of my favorite classes. Mixing a bunch of toxins into a pot is a specialty of mine. I'm quickly scanning the halls for any wanderers, making sure everyone is at class. My feet take me to Potions in a hurry. I don't want to miss much, trying to make the class as informational as possible.

"You shouldn't be running, you still have 3 minutes of checking the school."

It's always him, I even tried changing routes to avoid him. His idiotic smirk, thinking he actually did something. All he did is waste my time and train of thought.

"I'm allowed to run Riddle, it's not a rule. I already checked the halls I was assigned, did you?" I really have no energy for this.

Tom peers down at me, somehow still wearing that infamous smile. Eyes bright, filled with mischief and knowledge.

"I have, double-checked as well. I'm sure you only checked once. Such irresponsible actions, I still wonder how you nabbed the head-girl spot."

I choose not to answer, not giving in to his baiting. Does he think I'm that stupid? That easily bothered by a simple test of my patience.

"You could have just said you wanted to walk me to class Riddle. No need to be shy with me."

"Shy, a concept I would not know of. Might as well bring you to class, since I'm heading there myself. Wouldn't want you to be in danger, since you consistently prove you can't handle a simple check of the hallways."

"I told you Tom-"

"Once is not enough, you should know that by now," he interrupts me, feigning a sudden serious facade on.

We start heading towards Slughorn's room. I'm a little behind his figure. Mostly looking down to make sure I don't step over his feet and fall. He sometimes walks with me, very confusing if I may say. Hating my skills, probably still hates me. You can often find us arguing if we are ever partners in class together. The usual game we play, how many questions can we get right by the end of class. Last time he won by one point, my sour mood not helping the atmosphere.

"You look rested, more than me at least," I smile tiredly. My whole body slightly sagging forward from exhaustion. He looks as proper as someone could be. His skin is a little pale though, brighter than usual. Almost like he was sick, his eyes look darker too. More sunken in, the shape of his skull more prominent. His looks still annoyingly well presented.

"Yes, you do look rather tired. I see other things have prioritized above your looks."

This man, the audacity of this man. The only reason I'm not at the top of every class. Our number 1 student count being evenly split. I have to bite down on my tongue forcefully to not say anything back. I'm too tired to truly come back with anything witty, so I choose to save myself from the embarrassment. Instead, I slightly step on his robe on the ground causing him to trip up a little.

He quickly sends a warning glare my way and then continues walking. I smile slightly, knowing even if it was petty, it was worth it.

Riddle doesn't even hold the door for me when we walk in. Causing it to slam dangerously close to my face.

"There you two are, I was afraid you weren't going to make it," Slughorn exclaims excitedly. "Turn your textbooks to page 246, we are going to learn how to make a Polyjuice potion!"

I glance at Tom, his eyes only focus on the words before him not realizing my gaze is on him. I wonder if he'll make this a competition as well. Knowing him, as well as me, anything but competition is out of our character. He looks up catching my eyes, I tilt my head. Trying to silently communicate from afar.

His head turns to Slughorn, then back to me. He nods his head and that's all it takes for both of us to come to an understanding. Whoever can answer the most questions, and create the best potion gets bragging rights.

I don't intend to lose.

#tom riddle x oc #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #lord voldemort #hogwarts #wizard #post wizarding war #enemies to allies #enemies to lovers #angst #oc #poc #Oc is any race #horcrux #moldy voldy

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tolkienrsb · 3 years

Photo

CALLING ALL TOLKIEN FAN ARTISTS!

There are just under 10 days left to sign up for 2021’s Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang. We’ve got some great submissions already but it would be wonderful if more of you could join us - the more artwork, the better!

I’d like to take part but I’ll never get anything finished in 10 days...

It doesn’t have to be finished - art drafts are due at 23.59 CET on 14 May, and the draft just needs to give a good idea of what the final piece will look like. Lineart which will have colour added later is fine, or you could submit a concept drawing of something that you will work on through the summer - a costume or an embroidery piece, for example. TRSB veteran @lidoshka made a handy reference post here.

Unless you decide that you want to be completely hands off in your partnership with your author, you have until 1st August to finish your art.

I’m not sure my art is eligible.

It probably is! We only turn down art for the following reasons:

1) It is so incomplete that you can’t get any idea what the finished piece will be like (e.g. it’s at the lines and blobs stage - a nice sketch, for example, would be fine, or a manip that’s still a little rough at the edges).

2) It doesn’t demonstrate sufficient original input (e.g. it’s screenshotted directly from a game with no transformative elements applied).

3) The piece(s) submitted have previously been published elsewhere (e.g. they’re already on DeviantArt).

We accept all kinds of artworks. In the past we’ve had sculpture and crafts as well as drawings, paintings, comic strips, moodboards, edits and digital manipulations - and this year we have cosplay and print block cutting in the mix as well. It would be great to broaden that out even further. (Calligraphy? Pyrography? Video?)

I’ve never done anything like this before! / I’m usually a writer and I’ve never published my art! I’m nervous!

You’re not on your own - every year we have a lot of first timers as well as plenty of experienced participants. The mods will happily answer any questions you have; our FAQ section gives a fairly comprehensive run-down of the event, but if something isn’t clear, please just ask!

What if nobody wants to claim my art?

We cannot absolutely promise that every artwork will find a loving home with one of our authors, but rest assured that demand on claims night is always extremely high - Mod Narya is still scarred by Year 1, when we had 24 claims in under two minutes! And it isn’t always the obvious characters and pairings that get snapped up first…

In the event that there is more art than claiming authors, we will run second claims. We also have an excellent team of pinch hitters and treat makers, and will do our very best to find someone to write for your creative efforts.

I only know/like the films. Is this an event for the books?

No! We like movieverse too.

Do I have to help the author with the story? I don’t think I can do that!

That’s OK! We have a range of collaboration levels that you select from when you submit your art, including low-commitment options (though we do ask that you are responsive to your author and reply to any questions within 48 hours, unless you have told them in advance that you’re going to be unavailable for a period of time). See the FAQs for more detail.

How many pieces can I submit?

Up to 3 pieces, for claiming by three separate authors.

OK, I’m in. What next?

The artist signup form is over here - once we have your signup, we will send you a confirmation email welcoming you to the event (this can take up to 48 hours depending on mod availability). We can’t wait to see your beautiful creations!

#trsb21 #mod!post #signal boost #tolkien #fandom event #artist sign ups #the hobbit #lotr #the silmarillion #middle-earth #jackson movies

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rataltouille · 3 years

Text

GOD COMPLEX: WIP INTRO

[this is my original work, do not use / repurpose / plagiarise in any form]

GENRE: literary fiction; sometimes surrealism / fabulism.

STAGE: drafting / editing / polishing [each story is at a different point]

RECURRING THINGS: unhinged teenagers doing unhinged things. angry queer narrators. brown people with ambiguous religious beliefs. self inserts, you say? what makes you think that?

SO WHAT IS THIS?

good question! i ask that to myself all the time!!

okay so god complex is a collection of ALL my short stories. essentially every single short story i’ve ever written is a part of this project. and because i’m needlessly complicated, this is where things get confusing:

god complex is NOT my first short story collection [said first collection is unnamed and will have 13 select stories].

god complex also includes stories that may go into potential future collection(s).

god complex contains the other stories, ones that will go nowhere for various reasons [most being that they’re just,,, bad].

i made a venn diagram too because i’m insane:

i spent too long on this so you better have understood this mess 😪/j

WHAT CAN YOU EXPECT?

chaos! very fun narratives with extremely experimental and whacky form, told mostly by angry unhinged women!! my first ever cult story!!! [long overdue tbh]

first off i want to talk about the process. as mentioned, this is a wip and is nowhere near completion [so far i’m still in the drafting stage and out of all the short stories i’ve written so far, only four or so of them fit the vibes that i’m beginning to get from collection #1].

second off, considering they're all short stories that will be very different from each other + will be in different stages and drafts, i’ve decided to continue with introing each story with its separate post [like i did with saltwater, helium throat, etc] and then making update posts whenever i’ve got stuff to talk about [like how the editing or whatever’s going]! let me tell you here that editing is hard and my first drafts go through a Lot Of Fun Things so you can see me breakdown live :)

third, i don't work with a set theme and don't really start a collection knowing how it’s going to go. rather, the more i write for it the more it starts to take shape [which is why naming my first collection is so difficult because nothing seems right for it so far]. god complex is so varied that i wouldn't really say it has a “vibe”, but from what i’m planning to put in collection #1 so far, i’m beginning to understand it a bit more, and so far my only conclusion is that it involves unhinged people doing unhinged things [which is kind of my trademark ig], and also reckoning with your past at the Worst Possible Time. also everyone is queer because of course they are what else did you except.

WHAT HAVE I GOT SO FAR?

this list will be updated as i naturally write + more stories.

SALTWATER: narrated by the ocean, we follow a toxic couple as they reach their breaking point and drive into the ocean.

HELIUM THROAT: a bitter woman visits her hometown years after her sister and father’s connected deaths, to meet her estranged mother after she moves into her childhood house.

IT’S GENE MAGIC AND/OR TURPENTINE: a listless college student is called back home mid semester after her entire family dies from mysterious causes, and is left in an empty house with nothing but noisy neighbours, cigarettes and a shoulder demon to keep her company.

and of course wip intros are incomplete without a moodboard so:

that’s essentially the entire vibe of it godbless <3

everything about this project is tagged as god complex, the short story intros as god complex intro and the writing updates as god complex update. you can send me an ask / message me if you’d like to be added to my taglist or have any questions about the project. and that’s about it for now!!

#writeblr #am writing #wip intro #wtwcommunity #crabappletracking #ofcolourtracking #atlastracking #the way i wanted to do an aesthetic intro but instead made whatever the fuck this is...#guys it’s okay i’m insane.jpg #god complex

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btsmosphere · 4 years

Text

Crossfire | KTH

Moodboard Masterlist

~summary: The night your life blew up sent you on a collision course with the campus bad boy, Kim Taehyung. Though you were well aware of his reputation, it was his doorstep you ran to when you were bleeding with nowhere to go.

~word count: 5k

~gang!au, mafia!au, college!au, angst, fluff, action, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers

Warnings: swearing, mentions of cheating (warnings apply to each part individually, please read them)

~a/n: this week our gal gets some shit done and comes to a realisation due to Yoongi... also I am once again thanking everyone for supporting this story💜💜love you all,, n for those of you who haven’t heard I’m going to be posting a spooktober story soon so stay tuned...

“I want to help.”

Tae paused in the doorway, a steaming plate in each hand, staring at you with a dumbfounded expression.

“Huh?”

“I want to do something to help, you know, with the plan,” you eagerly pressed on.

“Oh,” Taehyung nodded, but a pout remained on his face as he kicked the door shut gently behind him, “the plan with Shinhyuk?”

“Yep.”

Nervously eyeing him as he shifted onto the bed, you waited for him to speak. Instead, he just passed you one of the plates and began to tuck in.

“Taehyung?”

“Mmm,” he hummed indistinctly, looking up at you, cheeks full of food.

“So… can I help?”

For just a moment, his bewildered stare was all that greeted you and his chewing slowed.

“Mmhmm,” he nodded, as if it was obvious.

“Oh. Okay.”

Admittedly, you hadn’t expected it to be that easy. As you began to eat yourself, Taehyung quickly went back to devouring his own meal without a second thought.

For once, the two of you were inside together during the day as it was the weekend and he wasn’t required for anything except a meeting, which was happening at his place anyway. With him here, you didn’t really need anything else to pass the time, but he had still vowed to bring you some more books soon, given that you had worked your way through the first pile completely now.

After last night, and if you were honest with yourself, even before that, any worry about being around Taehyung had faded away. Not only could you easily pass the time chatting, you very much enjoyed your time with him.

However, once you had both finished your food, it wasn’t long before there was a knock on the door announcing the arrival of the boys and the start of the meeting.

Only four had come as Jimin and Yoongi were out, doing ‘something’. You didn’t ask for details.

Taking the seat furthest from the window, hopefully hidden by Taehyung who sat beside you, you simply stayed quiet for most of the conversation. They didn’t need your input anyway; the plan sounded like it was progressing as well as it could be.

First of all, Jungkook and Namjoon confirmed the first members of Shinhyuk’s group they had managed to pick off, including the leader of a base inside his territory, though the rest were low-level: drivers, informants, dealers, fighters. Not enough to make his gang disappear by any stretch.

Not yet anyway, as Namjoon kept saying in encouragement.

As they resolved to keep digging through rival members, the real challenge was finding an in within Shinhyuk’s immediate circle – the ones who apparently were mainly stationed at what used to be your house.

“All I have is names,” Jungkook sighed, “even though I’m one of them, no one reveals anything about themselves.”

“Even the names might be fake,” Jin reminded him.

“I know,” Jungkook jammed his hands through his hair, “and there’s one – Jintao – he really doesn’t trust me. Makes it difficult for me to do anything. Always has his eyes on me.”

“Y/N can help,” Taehyung cut in then, causing four heads to turn sharply in your direction. You refused to squirm under their glares.

“Tae…” Jin was the first to speak, “it’s dangerous. I’ve been staking out Shin’s clubs and I’ve almost been caught so many times trying to talk to people-“

“She doesn’t have to go out on missions,” Tae reasoned, “a lot of snooping can be done from inside, and since she doesn’t have much else to do…”

“We have access to hackers, Tae,” Namjoon dismissed.

Biting your lip, you looked down. Since Tae had accepted your request to help so easily, you weren’t exactly prepared for this analysis. Perhaps it was stupid to think you would be able to assist these boys.

“She’s just as much a part of this as we are,” Taehyung surprised you with the ferocity in his voice, “she’ll be able to help. And I’ll let her even if you guys don’t.”

Namjoon in particular looked shocked by the younger boy’s unwavering words, but you watched in relief as he gave his assent with a nod, the others raising no further argument.

“What raids are coming up, Jungkook?” Hoseok brought the meeting back on track, prompting Jungkook to relay all the dates Shinhyuk had deals or attacks planned.

You listened as the boys decided which to focus on, though again they were frustrated by their lack of progress. Until Jungkook felt safe again, they weren’t going to counter any attacks, but they could make sure no one would be in the target properties to keep their allies out of danger.

Overall, the meeting left each of you feeling unsatisfied. This war with Shinhyuk was like having an unbearable itch while your hands were tied behind your back. You could only hope their careful preparation would eventually lend them the upper hand when they felt confident enough to retaliate.

With restless minds but nothing to do, Taehyung asked his friends to stay and a movie was agreed upon. As you had observed before, the boys relaxed remarkably quickly, and you were soon laughing with Hobi and Tae as you poured out snacks in the kitchen.

As you collected the packets, Hoseok returned to sit down. You and Tae had barely set foot around the corner when Hoseok let out a yell.

Startled, your head whipped around to find Yoongi standing silently in the doorway, leaning against one side, arms folded and a murderous expression.

“I didn’t see you there,” Hoseok breathed, laughing with a hand over his heart.

Before you could stop it, a snort escaped you, barely choked back, remembering exactly what you had said about Yoongi the night before. Luckily, you weren’t the only one, as you heard Taehyung beside you laughing through his nose, more successful at suppressing the sound.

“I hope there’s good news from the meeting,” Yoongi glared at you two, “I’m going bloody insane dancing around Shinhyuk like this.”

Everyone switched straight back to business mode around you, but you made the mistake of glancing over at Taehyung.

As soon as you made eye contact, neither of you could control yourselves and you had to fight to keep in your mirth. The dark warning glances from the other boys did nothing but fan the flames. Taehyung bit down on his lips as they threatened to break out into laughter; your cheeks ached.

Sinking onto the sofa, Taehyung looked pointedly away from you, shoving his fist into his mouth, shoulders still shaking.

With the tears brimming in your eyes, you didn’t care to listen to Yoongi as he talked about whatever he and Jimin had just come back from. When Jimin came in, a strangled laugh leapt from your mouth before you clamped it shut again, but you had set Tae off again.

The orange-haired boy across the room stared at you both like you were crazy.

“What’s your problem?” Yoongi’s sour face only made it harder to remove him from the ridiculous cartoon stereotype and Taehyung finally broke, guffawing loudly with his head thrown back, before falling against you and clinging to your shoulder, tears running down his face.

Shocked to find Taehyung’s head suddenly pressed into the crook of your neck, your breathless laugh was finally cut off. All you could do was stare down at him with a smile as he pulled himself together, wheezing dramatically the whole time.

At last, he seemed to realise himself and abruptly let go of your shirt. Pulling back, you were face to face for a second, expressions reflecting each other’s surprise, before he closed his mouth and turned back to Yoongi with a flawless poker face.

“Nothing.”

And then you were laughing again.

The prospect of Yoongi almost definitely hating you now didn’t bother you anymore. In the days following the meeting, you had begun to work through the list of names Jungkook had scribbled down of the members of Shinhyuk’s current inner members:

-Gi Beomho- has a Gwangju accent?

-Chaewon/known as Seb

-(Lee?) Minho

-Soonjae

-Jintao

Taehyung had told you his laptop password and you began trawling through the internet for any traces.

Though you were by no means a hacker, one of your friends at college, Jake, had once showed you a few things he knew how to do from his course in computing. Not to mention you were able to stalk someone very efficiently on social media from investigating the hot guy Lisa had seen on the street, or finding Soo’s mysterious girlfriend she refused to introduce to your group.

Now, though, there were no friends laughing around you as you tried to take apart the gang that was living in your house.

After your first afternoon of searching, nothing fruitful came up. When Taehyung had come back in the evening, you were more than happy to abandon the task and join him in your usual dinner routine, falling asleep soon after when you settled down together to watch a film.

But as the days progressed, you became more determined and frustrated in equal measure as you came across few things. You had worked your way through 3 people, giving up only after you had exhausted every avenue you could think to investigate.

Lee Minho took you even longer than the others to rule out, though you suspected from the beginning it was an alias since he shared the name with the famous actor, meaning there was an immense amount of unrelated material cluttering any path to finding the gang member, no matter what you searched.

Slumping back against the headboard, you set the laptop aside and flipped it shut.

Your attempt at working your way through the newest stack of books Taehyung had brought you was much slower than the first time around. Until he came back home, you barely took in the words.

At your side, a notebook containing the few possible leads consistently stole your attention instead.

You had managed to gain access to a couple of police reports on a Gi Beomho in Gwangju, but you would have to verify with Jungkook whether the photo was of the right person, or if you were barking up the wrong tree entirely.

When Tae finally arrived, you anxiously greeted him. Today Shinhyuk had planned his largest attack yet, on a shop that was a front for gang activity, and you knew all the boys had been on standby.

Taking in the scattered books, paper and laptop on the bed, his shoulders slumped.

“Nothing yet?”

“No, sorry,” you confirmed with a sigh.

“Don’t apologise,” he reached out and rubbed a hand along your upper arm to your shoulder. There it lingered, fingers slowly massaging for a moment.

“Were you hurt today?”

In only the short time since he came in, he had only squeezed out a smile once as he tried to reassure you.

At the shake of his head, you felt a knot in your chest release. But he still wasn’t happy.

“So what happened?”

“We didn’t go in at all. It was a lost cause,” he sat on the bed and kicked his shoes off without energy, “he shut the whole place down. It’s done for.”

With another huff, he fell back to lie on the bed. You did the same.

Weighty silence hovered over you both.

You had no idea how long you merely stared up at the ceiling, paralysed, before Taehyung moved. Slowly, he reached his hand out, fingers finding yours. As he intertwined your hands where they lay between you, you simply let your eyes slide shut, squeezing back.

“I know you’ll find something.”

Though you appreciated his support, he said it to assure himself as much as you.

Whether he could see or not, you nodded.

Just then, Tae’s familiar ringtone chimed in the silence. Pulling his phone from a pocket, he held it above him, checking the caller. Deciding it was worth it, he reluctantly pulled his had from yours to push himself up as he swiped across the screen and held the device to his ear.

Sitting up too, you could hear Jungkook’s voice crackling out from the phone.

“Hyung, I think I-I messed up-“

“Woah, Jungkook, what happened?”

“I was in Shinhyuk’s car, and I saw a file in there, he was looking through it, and it had you guys in it! It was labelled ‘bangtan’ and it’s full of information on everyone- I didn’t know he had that, but I just- I panicked, and I stole it, and now I have it but Shinhyuk’s leaving before me and he’ll notice it’s gone and- fuck-“

You caught Tae’s eye as you both listened in horror to the scared maknae.

“Where are you Kook?” Tae demanded, eyes breaking from yours.

“Um, at Y/N’s,” he replied, “the others are just packing away-“

But before he could finish, you had reached over and pulled the phone right out of Taehyung’s grasp.

“Jungkook,” you hissed into the receiver, “there’s two loose floorboards under my wardrobe at the back, they’re pretty quiet to move, can you hide it in there?”

“Uh, yeah,” the boy responded, “thanks.”

You lowered the phone to return to Tae, but suddenly brought it back to your ear.

“And don’t look at any of the stuff that’s already in there!”

“Oh- okay,” the boy sounded startled, but Tae seemed to find your miniature panic hilarious as he took the phone back and hung up.

Saying nothing, he wiggled his eyebrows and smirked at you.

“Oh, shut it,” you ignored the heat rising in your cheeks and shoved him lightly back onto the bed, where he only laughed louder.

“It’s not even- oh you are ridiculous,” you cried as he pulled you down on top of him, only making you turn redder.

In your embarrassment, you tried to wriggle away from him, pushing on his chest, but he grabbed your wrists, bringing you back down, grin ever-present on his face.

“Hey!” you protested, and then, “Ya! Stop! Tae-“

His hands reached down to tickle your sides, and you squirmed away from him again, only to have him follow, ending up on top of you as he mercilessly continued his attack, enjoying himself far too much.

“Ohmygod, ahh, Tae, please, aaaahahaha…”

Struggling, you writhed around, legs kicking out as you shrieked in protest before you finally reached his sides and exacted your revenge. He curled in on himself, giggling and apologising to get you to stop. You did, eventually, only to throw a pillow right at his face, though he easily caught it in the hands he had held up in surrender.

Both collapsing back onto the bed, you turned your head to one side, but you found he was already looking back at you. His laughter had dissipated into a smile which you returned.

“Thanks for helping out Kook,” he said earnestly, eyes boring into yours, “I told you that you would be helpful.”

This time, your heart soared with his praise.

You weren’t hopeful about finding ‘Soonjae’, or anything that could bring him away from Shinhyuk. Having gone through half the list already, the remaining two were the people Jungkook had the least information on.

Trudging through the morning, you were reluctant to take to the computer and be met with more inevitable defeat. Today you felt particularly tired, which didn’t help.

It was strange since you had slept for a long time, waking only after Taehyung had gone, leaving you missing his presence, even if you barely touched him while you shared a bed.

Nonetheless, you found yourself sifting through links and articles online, far from the first page of Google filled with celebrities and international news. With the little information you had on the man, you ended up reading through anything and everything containing the name Soonjae. Facebook profiles, comments on newspaper articles, a GoFundMe page…

Taking a sip of water, you scrolled idly to the bottom of the GoFundMe, which was for a child after all, no gang member, and read the ‘recent’ donations (the most recent being over a year old) and comments. Nothing.

Clicking on ‘show more’, you pulled up the full comment list and scanned through. For what, you weren’t sure. Most donations were small bits and pieces, but among the ones from three years ago, one was a little more sizeable. Along with it came an interesting comment: a woman called Sara was apologising for her ‘previous words’ and wishing the boy well.

You frowned as you read it. Though it was almost certainly unrelated, you were undeniably curious as to what she might have said to target an ill child.

Clicking next on the woman’s account, you decided to try and log in. After employing the password tricks Jake had showed you, you made it. The account had been created the same day as the donation was made on little Soonjae’s page, and appeared untouched since. You supposed this tangent had come to nothing, though you were certainly pleased with your skills after getting into the account.

Closing down the tab, you searched next for ‘Soonjae GoFundMe’. There was the campaign you had already seen, followed by a few that proved to be unrelated as well. You selected ‘next page’ with little hope.

Then something caught your eye.

About halfway down, the name Sara.

Quickly selecting the page, you found yourself on Facebook instead of GoFundMe, but what you found was certainly interesting. It was the same woman from the earlier page. This time she had posted a status:

If anyone on here donates to Soonjae’s fucking gofundme get ready to be cut out of my life XD cheaters don’t deserve your pity

That was certainly interesting. No wonder she had apologised to the boy – it also explained her big donation – probably given out of guilt.

But re-reading the status, you realised she couldn’t possibly be talking about the boy. Unless by ‘cheater’ she meant that he had cheated on a test in school, but you suspected that was not the case.

You clicked on her profile.

Her profile picture showed her holding a little boy that must be around ten, standing on a beach. Flipping through her older profile images, they stopped three years ago. Perhaps she had deleted all previous ones?

Only friends can see Sara’s photos

Only friends can see Sara’s timeline

“Not just friends…” you muttered, getting to work.

Unluckily for Sara, she had used the same password as on her GoFundMe, so you logged in easily.

The first thing you saw was that she reportedly lived in your city: a promising start. Scrolling through to three years ago, you saw only one other post close in time to her attack on Soonjae and his fundraising page:

Sara is feeling: heartbroken X(

That lead you nowhere, so you made your way back up her feed, seeing photos of her son and meals with friends. Few stuck out as anything but happy, all possibly related to the mysterious events of three years ago.

That’s right, delete your fucking facebook. I don’t need to worry about blocking you now XD

Sara is feeling: defeated☹: Just got out of court. Nrs

What was the point in all this? Just to prove something? Well you did, you proved I was right all along

Now you really were intrigued. You needed to find out what was going on, she was definitely linked to a Soonjae in your city, so you had reason to investigate further. Still, as you clicked on the messages icon, you felt very much like a trespasser.

Searching for ‘Soonjae’ at the top, two conversations were pulled up, both from three years ago. One with ‘Park Soonjae’ and one with ‘Help Soonjae’.

First choosing ‘Help Soonjae’, recognising the profile picture as the same image used on the GoFundMe, you read the exchange of messages.

Sara: What the fuck is this?

Sara: I can’t believe you’re pulling the pity card after what you’ve done

Help Soonjae: Excuse me?

Sara: You know what I mean

Help Soonjae: Ma’am, I don’t know you but please calm down. I will block you, this page is only trying to raise hospital funds for my son. I’d thank you to explain how this is ‘pulling the pity card’

Sara: Wait… Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!

Sara: I can’t apologise enough, I thought this was my husband’s page, he has the same name as your son! I didn’t check the page before messaging, I didn’t mean to offend you or your son

Sara: I’ll make a donation to your page to make up for this. I wish your son the best

Read 15:47

And that was the end of that. Wincing with second hand embarrassment, you quickly moved on to ‘Park Soonjae’.

Soon, you realised that the message history was long, but it all ended three years ago. You gave up on scrolling your way to the top, seeing that most messages consisted of ‘I love you’s and reminders to buy milk. The final conversation, however, gave you a lot more information.

Sara: What the fuck is this?

Then followed a screenshot of a GoFundMe page: Help Soonjae win Custody

Sara: You cheated. Maybe you should write that in your description.

Soonjae: Sara, I’ve told you I’m sorry

Sara: And I’ve told you that’s not enough. We are over

Soonjae: I can understand that. I just can’t understand why you want to keep my son from me!

Sara: HOW CAN YOU NOT TELL?!?!

Sara: I never want to see you again, and I don’t want kai to either

Soonjae: How can I make it up to you without going to court? I can’t afford the fees and you know it

Sara: You can’t ‘make it up’ to me. And it’s not my problem anymore if you can afford it or not. I’m blocking you

And that was it.

You wasted no time in opening Soonjae’s profile in a new tab, before taking a screenshot of the messages and logging out of Sara’s account.

Soonjae’s account was indeed deleted, confirming him as the target of Sara’s earlier status update. One search for new profiles under the same name showed no one promising. Your ‘breakthrough’ seemed more trivial now you had taken a step back from it. Without a picture of the Soonjae you had found, you couldn’t confirm if you were on the right target.

You had one last option, and searched for the GoFundMe Sara had sent a screenshot of. At last you found it, though it took a while as it had been declared finished and was from so long ago.

But, once you opened it, it turned out Sara’s screenshot hadn’t included the full photo at the top of the campaign. It had only showed a baby cradled in someone’s arms, but on the site, the full photo extended to show the man’s face.

This time, you did not scroll down.

You just stared.

There would be no need for Jungkook to verify if this was the right man. Those eyes had stared at you before from underneath a hoodie in your own bedroom not so long ago. And the hands that held his son had given you the wound in your side.

“Holy shit…” you breathed, taking a screenshot when you recovered from your shock.

Then you proceeded to scroll down. And it seemed like you had hit the jackpot.

The description had been updated, and the last lines read:

Thanks for the generosity. This page will be deactivated as I have now sourced funding from a private benefactor. Will update those who donated on the court result.

“Tae! Oh my god-“

You froze on the stairs.

On hearing the door opening downstairs, you had presumed Taehyung had returned, but instead, Yoongi stood in the hallway.

“Hi,” he said coolly.

“Sorry,” you murmured, but didn’t retreat back upstairs. Staring back at him, laptop and notebook clutched in your arms, you felt the need to share your breakthrough.

After a few seconds glaring at you, Yoongi moved away down the hallway. Taking a breath, you followed.

“Um, sorry, I thought you were Tae,” you spoke from the door.

“Ok,” came his short reply as he rooted in the fridge.

“Actually, er,” you pushed, making the boy at least turn around and acknowledge your presence, “I wanted to show him something. But… I can show you instead. You know how I was searching up Shinhyuk’s closest members, well, I think I found something.”

His unimpressed face vanished at least a little, and he nodded, taking a swig from the drink he had picked.

“Okay,” you placed the laptop on the island and opened the screenshots you had saved, “so I found this woman’s messages with a Soonjae in the city, they were getting divorced but he couldn’t afford the legal costs to fight for custody of their son.”

Yoongi leaned forwards to read the screen and you stepped aside, worrying your lip. Watching him read, you leaned against the counter to support your tired legs.

“Bastard,” he muttered.

“Pardon?”

“He cheated on her,” he said simply, gesturing towards the screen, drink in hand.

You hummed in agreement and flipped onto the second image.

“He set up this GoFundMe, but see how it says he then received funding from elsewhere.”

“Could be Shinhyuk, definitely,” Yoongi agreed, “I can send Jungkook this guy’s picture-“

“Actually, you don’t have to,” you cut in, “I, er, I recognise him. He was one of Shinhyuk’s that broke into my place.”

“Shit,” Yoongi breathed, turning to take a look back at the man on the screen, “good catch.”

“Thanks,” you couldn’t help but smile, “so… what now?”

Setting his drink aside, Yoongi bent over the counter and opened a new tab, sending the images to his own email, along with a final one of Sara’s details on Facebook.

“I think we have enough to work with. We can use the details for leverage and approach him.”

“Nice,” you couldn’t keep yourself from smiling. Even if only Yoongi was around to see it, you were just proud to have hopefully helped bangtan get another rival under their belt, and get closer to defeating Shinhyuk.

It seemed Yoongi had finished with the laptop, even though he hadn’t yet left the kitchen or even picked his drink up again. Awkwardly, you stepped closer to shut the laptop and slide it off the counter.

Taking a stride back towards the door, you hesitated.

“Well, erm, thanks, I’ll just- yeah.”

“Wait.”

You turned back around, surprised at just how small Yoongi’s voice sounded. Not knowing what to say, you waited as he stood shuffling his feet.

At last he cleared his throat and spoke.

“Listen, I’m sorry for, you know… trying to kill you that time,” he said. His voice was quiet, as if a lower volume would allow him to pretend he never said it.

“Well there’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear,” you chuckled.

“No, I really am,” he spoke stronger this time, actually looking at you, “I know I haven’t been the nicest and-“

“No, it’s okay,” you flashed him another smile, “I know you were just trying to protect Tae.”

He fell silent again for a moment, and you thought that might be it. But something was still on the tip of his tongue and he looked down, one hand coming to scratch his ear.

“I want to tell you I’m happy for you guys. You seem… well, really nice, and I know Tae thinks so too, and I trust him, so… yeah.”

Gulping, he looked up at you, trying to hide his mortification at the barrage of emotion he had just released. You just stared back at him, lost for words.

Maybe he had said something wrong?

“A-and, thank you for doing this work on Shinhyuk’s gang, it’ll really help us. What you did was really impressive-“

“I-I’m sorry,” you finally spluttered out, “what did you mean when you said you- you’re… you’re happy for us?”

Looking back at you, his eyes widened.

“Shit, are you guys not-“

You tried to swallow down any signs of how flustered you were, clutching the laptop tighter in front of your chest. Perhaps he didn’t mean what you thought he might-

“I thought you guys were dating. Shit.”

You couldn’t agree more with that last sentiment.

Just as you opened your mouth, without knowing what you planned on saying, you were saved by the bell. Or rather, the door.

Tae had finally come home. It would be an understatement to say he was surprised to find you and Yoongi together, in conversation too apparently. Hopefully Yoongi had finally quit his tough act and exposed his softness that Tae had insisted you would find eventually.

Yoongi was quick to inform Tae of what you had dug up on Soonjae. Taehyung put his hand on your shoulder, sending you a proud grin that made your heart race as he told you he knew you could do it.

The whole time you were aware of Yoongi watching the interaction, and you excused yourself as soon as you could, leaving the boys to themselves.

Practically running up the stairs, you were left panting as you closed the door to the bedroom. Just one short burst of speed had knocked you out, but that concern barely crossed your mind as you surrendered to the mattress, thinking only of what Yoongi had told you.

He thought you were dating? Ridiculous…

But then why had the suggestion got to you so much? Sure, you shared a bed with the guy, and you enjoyed being with him, and liked it when he held your hand or hugged you…

Fuck.

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