#overheard zine

[wormyorchids]

New zine is out!! I Bought A Panama Hat in Hawaii and I have No Regrets is a zine of overheard conversation snippets. You can find it on my Etsy, or sign up for my Patreon to get a new minizine every month!!

#illustration #my work #drawing #art #sketchbook #weird art #Chicago #zine #minizine #overheard #overheard conversation #eavesdropping #overheard zine

[sunderwight]

Okay, concept:

Luo Binghe grew up very poor prior to arriving to QJP. And when he first got to QJP, he was ostracized and neglected. So there are probably a lot of phrases, terms, and ideas that he didn't know were things until SY arrived and started actually teaching him. Right? So the bulk of what he did learn, he learned directly from Shen Yuan's own slightly messy attempts to fake ancient scholarly credentials.

Plus, QJP is supposed to be the peak of scholars and well-read, fancy intellectuals, and YQY probably also doesn't know shit about most of that stuff (having also been a former illiterate street child) and of course is incredibly predisposed to take Shen Qingqiu's side on virtually anything. Especially something frivolous or linked to their shared past, such as someone, say Qi Qingqi, accusing Shen Qingqiu of making up a literary reference or "gibberish" word. If something Shen Qingqiu says is something no one else seems to know, that just proves he's more worldly and well-read than the rest of his peers. Also, Shang Qinghua will probably know it, and despite his many (many) character flaws, Shang Qinghua reads a lot too. There's really very little to convince a former street child turned Demon Emperor whose former education began and ended with Shen Qingqiu specifically and Meng Mo (wildly out-of-touch with human culture anyway) to suspect that some of the difficult-to-source references his master makes really have no worldly source (in this world).

So Luo Binghe, in his quest to become as knowledgeable of all things about his shizun and keep up with him as well as possible, and maybe also put down some arguments he's overheard once and for all, eventually gets annoyed because CLEARLY there is a wealth of cultural knowledge contemporary to Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua that didn't survive to his own generation. His efforts at hunting down all the sources being referenced and origins of certain philosophical ideas or terminology keep coming up empty in certain departments. He's been over the entire QJP library with a fine-tooth comb, but QJP focuses on things pertaining to cultivation, history, and knowledge. Obviously, there are gaps. The archives are unlikely to keep pop cultural references and lowbrow literature, and Luo Binghe begins to suspect (from what tastes his master seems to share with his shishu) that that is that actual source he's missing.

The trashy yellow books and romance literature of their generation! Bawdy poems and lewd artworks so on! Heck, that's probably even where the shared "code" (bad English) comes into play -- disciples are always trying to sneak forbidden material past their teachers and smuggle naughty books into the dormitories. Knowing Shizun and Shang Qinghua, Luo Binghe honestly wouldn't be surprised if the two of them were racketeering that shit in their own disciple days. Shang Qinghua acquiring materials, Shen Qingqiu acquiring buyers, both of them making their extra spending money off of secretly supplying Cang Qiong's population with contraband fiction and art.

Also, that would explain why both Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua get flustered and refuse to elaborate if someone asks them what this or that strange turn of phrase refers to. Shen Qingqiu has a very thin face for actually discussing erotica, and Shang Qinghua doesn't like being caught doing illegal shit.

Luo Binghe desperately needs access to trash lit that's older than he is. However, most of that stuff is not printed to last, and turning it up is like trying to find old Spirk zines without the internet.

Shang Qinghua, the obvious go-to source, also seems to not really have anything that old anymore (intimidating him is laughably easy, if he had anything he would have coughed it up by the second or third time Luo Binghe asked and frowned at the same time), and if Shen Qingqiu did have anything he wouldn't want to be questioned about it. Asking too much might even get it destroyed in an act of excessive embarrassment.

Which means there is just one other person Luo Binghe knows who might be able to lead him to some sources. One other person he is absolutely, 100% certain was extensively reading trashy literature around the same time that Shizun was a young man. Someone who would know where to go to even begin looking for it.

Luo Binghe is going to have to ask Tianlang Jun for help with something.

#svsss #bingqiu #scum villain's self saving system #scum villain

[sp0o0kylights]

You know what I want to see, I want to see more of Steve, Eddie, and Robin being 1980s small town kids from Indiana, by which I mean;

Robin is The Source of Gay Knowledge purely because her parents host Hippie Christmas and she managed to sneak away to find a neat bookstore in Indiana once. 

Her knowledge is not in depth. It's patchy, woven together through rumors, stories she heard or things she picked up from her parents' old pictures. She's got a handful of zines, one book, and some movies she managed to order for Family Video behind Keith's back.

She acts like she's Queen of the Queers because in Hawkins she pretty much is.

(Max and El ask her what a lavender marriage is once, something they overheard snooping around. 

Robin confidentially answers that it's code for when one woman dresses up as a man, fooling officials into wedding two woman.

She does not live this down two years later when they find out what it actually means.) 

Eddie doesn't spend every weekend in Indianapolis. 

Gas is expensive, his busiest days of his "job" is Friday and Saturday, and he has no fucking clue what the hanky code is. 

He's wearing that bandana because Metallica front singer James Hetfield has one on all their tour posters. 

Eddie does make it down to a gay bar though, by accident. Rick needed some back up for a shady deal. Promised Eddie a boatload of free drugs to sell if he agreed to just stand there and look mean. 

He was warned the bar they were meeting in was 'weird' and to not 'freak out' --which Eddie thought was hilarious given his nickname and general appearance, but whatever.

He doesn't understand when they get there, because it's just a bunch of hot men with hanky's in their back pockets everywhere.

Then he sees two women kissing and it clicks. 

He can't out himself in front of Rick, but one of the bartenders playfully dresses him down for his own hanky, letting him know all about the code and teasing him through his embarrassment. 

He's got an offer to come back and learn what color and which pocket his hanky should actually be in, a prospect Eddie was salivating at until Chrissy Cunningham up and died on his ceiling.

(He still wore the hanky, because the feeling of that bartender tugging it out and stuffing it back in might be the closest thing he's ever had to sex and he absolutely wants a repeat. 

He's young and horny, sue him.) 

Steve Harrington may not be academically smart but he's not dumb. 

He figured out a while back that the basketball team as a unit probably crossed the queer line more than once--or at least it did before Hargrove came in. 

( Brad Handly for example, went around slamming kids into lockers and screaming slurs like a fucking movie villain one Monday because the varsity team got dead drunk at Laura's party on Sunday and hey, look, there weren't that many girls there, okay?

They all had fucking hands and mouths. Everybody but Tommy was single and hot to trot. Nothing gay about it.

Its not even like they were kissing or treating each other like chicks. It was just Brad's first time and they got to tease him later for overthinking it. 

Dude graduated soon enough after and given Steve was on the team as a sophomore, he hadn't thought about the guy and why he might be freaking out so bad in years.) 

Robin's entire panic attack at Starcourt, and a few more after had Steve replaying that whole incident. Reframed it a bit, and, yeah.

In retrospect that had been extremely gay, actually. 

It sat with him a lot easier than he'd thought it would. Partially because of Robin, but mostly because that's just who he was.

Stranger things had happened to Steve and this one didn't want to kill, maim or otherwise eat him, so it got filed under 'interesting facts he should never tell his parents if he wanted to keep his trust fund' and then he went about his day. 

(Or he tried too, anyways.

It caught up to him when Eddie and Robin somehow figured out the other was queer and dragged him along to some bar Eddie had a standing invitation at, with demands for Steve to do what he did best.

Babysit.

Their magical trip was utterly destroyed when Brad Handly happened to be the very same bartender who had given Eddie the invite.

 Considering Brad's immediate bark of laughter followed by a hug and introducing himself as "Steve's gay awakening", Steve ended up having to speedrun through Eddie and Robin both having a crisis for him.

It didn't help that Steve had politely, and laughingly, corrected Brad with a casual; 

"Pretty sure that was Tommy man, but if it helps I think that tongue of yours gave Matt Burdon a crisis."

--which ended up with him answering a lot more gay sex questions with Brad than he cared too. 

At least he, through Brad, was able to help Robin connect to some local lesbians and--after a second crisis from Eddie regarding how Steve managed to have more sex than "the resident town freak and guy who actually knew he was gay, Steve!"-- even helped Eddie out by catching the metalheads tongue with his mouth later that evening.

The last one landed him a boyfriend, trust fund be damned.) 

#this started as thought and ended as a mini fic #filing this under shit I'm not expanding on #steddie #platonic stobin #its the “Eddie and Robin drag Steve to a Gay Bar” trope but with a twist #the twist is that Steve skipped his gay crisis entirely #and also that basketball team is not straight #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #I just want to re-invoke that pre internet feeling of "No one has an easy way to google whether or not their friend is right #so it comes down to who sounds right LOL #or whose known for what

[indecentpause]

Sunday Six

It’s Sunday, time to post ‘Six Sentences’ but it’s really just a small chunk I didn’t count!

“Oh, Meara!” [Mrs. Yazdi] cries, gently moving your chin this way and that so she can better see the bruises beginning to form on your cheeks. “Oh, what happened?”

“Did you get jumped?” Danny cries in panic. “What–?”

“My mom found my music and zine collection,” you sob. Danny bites his bottom lip and hisses in a frightened breath. His mom and dad just look confused.

“Why did that make her angry?” Mrs. Yazdi asks, sitting down beside you.

You and Danny share a terrified look. Your hands are shaking. Mrs. Yazdi takes one as Mr. Yazdi sets the glass of ice water on the table for you.

“Meara, love, what is going on?”

Finally, the stress of being closeted, of existing as an outsider, of being afraid no matter where you are because what if someone thinks you ‘look’ gay, it all crashes down on your shoulders and you start to cry. Danny rushes to your side, crouching a little so he can wrap his arms around your torso and bury his face in your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you sob. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m like this. The music and zines helped me feel better. They helped me feel less alone.”

“Why did you feel alone?” Mrs. Yazdi asks gently.

But you’re crying too hard to answer now. Danny puts his hand on your knee and you give him permission with a nod.

“Meara’s gay,” he whispers. “And. And I’m bisexual. And we were listening to music that. That celebrated that instead of making fun of us, because that’s all you see, everywhere, we’re gross or we’re laughable or we’re perverts or we’re gonna hurt kids or–”

“Danesh, Danesh,” Mrs. Yazdi says gently, and she pulls him into a hug. “Oh, Danesh. I am so sorry you and Meara had to go through all of this alone. But you will never be alone again. Either of you. Oh, Meara, come here.” She reaches an arm out for you too and you stumble into the hug, and you and Danny are both crying, and Mrs. Yazdi is holding you close and tight, and everything’s falling apart, but at least you’re not alone.

You stay at Danny’s for the night, and the night after, and all the nights for the rest of the week.

Your parents don’t come looking for you. This means you don’t have any of your things, but Danny’s family, while not as wealthy as yours, is by no means hurting for cash, so his parents give you a small allowance in return for helping out around the house so you can rebuild your collection.

Every day feels like the end of the world, because what if today is the day Danny’s parents try to send you home?

You’re in bed with Danny, both curled up and looking at each other, when you ask.

“Are your parents going to send me back?”

Danny shakes his head. You curl your arm back and turn your nose in toward your elbow.

“No,” he says.

“Promise?”

“Promise. I overheard them talking. They’re only going to make you leave if the cops come. Then they have to. So. As long as your parents don’t come looking, you can stay as long as you need.”

You nod and close your eyes. Danny gently takes off your glasses and puts them on the bedside table beside him, then rubs his thumb along your nose where they were pressing in and leaving marks. Your breath catches, and you want so bad to ask him if you can kiss him, but you can’t, because you have nowhere else to go if he wants you to leave.

General taglist:  @ohsugarfoot @abalonetea @only-book-lovers-left-alive @poore-choice-of-words @leadhelmetcosmonaut @jasperygrace @drippingmoon @viskafrer @thelaughingstag @athenswrites @kaiusvnoir @magic-is-something-we-create @fictionalbullshitter

Black & Blues taglist: @winterandwords @lynnedwardswrites

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from either list!

#my writing #writeblr #six sentence sunday #sunday six #amwriting #excerpt #wip #the black and blues #sheraton academy #sheraton academy au #meara ryanne #danny yazdi #mrs. yazdi

[princesarnicula]

Life is Strange

Based on the video game Life is Strange 2.

Project Statement:

I retold the story from my favorite video game Life is Strange 2. I want the pictures too look like stills from a movie. Most of the time in this project I was traveling and looking for places to shoot at and I knew that I can't control each scene but I made the best of it. I went with a more yellow/orange tint for my photos just as a theme for this project. I also incorporated photos of a 'first-person view' of what the character is seeing throughout the story.

A story of a young man who got stereotyped just because of the color of his skin and is now on the run to where he knows he belongs. Back home.

All the characters and stories in here are fiction. Any similarities with real life is purely coincidental.

Part 1

When my dad died, he prepared a gift for me when I turned 17 and I just couldn't wait another day to open what he had for me.

All that changed when I overheard my neighbor and a cop outside my house saying that I'm illegal and that I'm the suspect of thief and murder they are trying to catch for weeks now. I was so scared. I had to run.

It's been a day of walking and I don't really know where I am anymore. It's my birthday and I am on the run.

I stopped at a gas station just hoping the news hasn't reached here just yet. I met Brandon who is a travelling journalist for online zines. He's been on the road for forever. He drove me west since he said he's headed there anyways. Before we parted, he told me that he knew my story and that it is starting to circulate the internet so he told me to be careful. He dropped me off a motel along with some cash and some gear for on the road.

Sunsets are beautiful. But right now, all that it is reminding me of is that all good things end at some point.

I slept like a log but I had to catch the earliest bus ride to... somewhere I guess. I think I know where to go and hopefully it works out.

I've always wanted to travel, but not in this condition. I'll take what I can get I guess.

It feels like forever since I've been to my best friend's house. If there's anyone left that I can trust, I know that he is one of them, if not the only one left.

[humanhost]

HUMAN HOST IN PUBLIC: The First Two Decades Part 2 - a Realicide show at an abandoned apartment house in Cincinnati, Ohio; Autumn 2004

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

People who live in or near the midwestern city of Cincinnati possess an odd mix of cultural influences. Smashed up against the border of Kentucky bluegrass to the south, the Appalachian foothills directly to the east, and the agricultural bread basket of Indiana to the west, the citizens of this Ohio River beacon have all been defined by contentious issues of identity. The southern influences seem to bubble up stronger here than in any other city in Ohio, even though for the most part the state has always been squarely neutral or unapologetically alligned with the Union when it came to political divides left over from the American civil war.

One of the more harmless southern culture elements in Cinci is the southern accent. Many Cinci residents speak with a drawl more akin to that of their neighbors in West Va. and Kentucky. With this accent,  words, sometimes even single letters, can sound as if they have two or three extra syllables.

At Human Host’s first Cincinnati show, before the music began, we overheard a kid in the audience off in a corner talking with some of her friends. Her voice had a thick southern drawl. She was talking about how that day was her birthday and someone had gotten her “EGGS” as a present. This inspired laughs and a’lot of confusion. I stopped whatever I was doing and replied, ”Eggs??? Really? That’s a strange birthday present. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that, but...” She laughed and replied, ”No, no, no. Not eggs, i got ‘E’, as in ecst*sy” (aka the wild party drug so popular at raves and other EDM-type music fests). Her southern accent was so prominent that out of the corner of my ear the letter “E” seemed to sound more like “Ehhh” or “Ayy”. Since there is no such noun as “Ehh”, my imagination quickly transformed “Ehh” into “eggs”.

It was just a mistake, but in a weird way it was also a poetic allusion of things to come; eggs and ecstasy were ultimately the two things that symbolized the energy that went on to illuminate Human Host’s first Cinci show.

~

Before Human Host ever played Cincinnati, Rick Weaver’s other band New Flesh had made a splash in the town a few months-to-a year prior to HH’s debut there. Rick had turned the Host crew on to the records, flyers, zines, and web content created by Cinci multi-media collective Realicide; the collective’s teenage co-founder Robert Inhuman (who today is known as Robert Imhuman) was the promoter who booked New Flesh and he also had a great interest Rick’s other early 2000′s projects (mainly, Organ Donors, Flowers In The Attic, and eventually Human Host).

Anti-authoritarian/anti-imperialist provocation was and remains to be Realicide’s main raison d’etre, but these kids weren’t by-the-numbers punks. They refused to accept any strict convention involving punk tradition, especially when it came to hierarchies and aesthetic parameters. Much like Human Host, Realicide is concerned with creating a medium as expansive as their message. The group’s influence has extended far beyond the noise scene that initially embraced them. Today Realicide provides a free mobile sound system for local political demonstrations, they set up DIY film screenings with their offshoot group Gonx, and the Realicide artists have even gained a foothold in the global experimental punk scene by touring internationally. The Realicide record label releases material from like-minded overseas artists, and has secured worldwide distro for the releases of the many Ohio-based Realicide stalwarts.

Even though political elements have always been only a tiny piece of the chaotic puzzle that is Human Host’s inspiration, Realicide’s methods weren’t wildly different than ours. Their distinctly 21st century-style multi-media weirdness was drenched in classick crust punk presentation; just like us they refused to embrace the future, nor did they worship the present or the past. Just like us, this was a crew interested in altering their reality through creative work in as many different and positive ways as they possibly could. Come hell or high water, Realicide and their allies were going to save the world in their own weird way and we wanted to help them do it.

As we started booking our second tour in the fall of 2004, Rick Weaver convinced Robert and the Realicide crew to help book a Cinci stop for us. Memories about the tour date’s venue and exactly how the Realicide crew secured it are unclear; Rick Weaver seems to think this show may have originally been booked at a cafe or coffee shop. If that was the case, a last minute re-scheduling was probably neccessary after the original venue randomly cancelled on Robert. Touring around the U.S. playing experimental pop music was still a relatively new thing, especially when it came to the domestic DIY basement show scene circa the early 2000′s, a time that was essentially still culturally smothered by lingering trends of the 1990′s. Consequently, last minute cancellations were common for non-genre artists (aka artists who weren’t easily marketable) in this period.

But Realicide was acutely aware that problems like this were always possible. On a dime, the kids were able to find a back-up venue by utilizing the basement or laundry room of an apartment building one of their friends was sort-of living in. The place was a big old 5 story house on a hill with a basement and an attic. It had been converted into a apartment complex sometime in the 1940′s or 50′s, maybe earlier. By the early 2000′s the building was either abandoned, or its residents were about to be evicted. It felt very awkward hangin in there when the other acts (Realicide and poet/spoken word artist Jim Swill) were not playing. It often felt kind of like we were all tresspassing in there. We had to go upstairs to an apartment to use a bathroom and the place had almost no furniture, and many of the other apartments’ doors were wide open revealing spaces just as desolate as the one where the “public” restroom was. It was clear that - whatever was going on with the building - no one was supposed to be in there.

Adding to the eerie abandoned atmosphere was the fact that the night of the show was cloaked in a dense fog much more akin to that of coastal New England than any midwestern place. It was as if we brought a little piece of “The Evil East” along with us.

By late 2004 HH had been trying out many different line-ups and forms of live performance at gigs, but we were somewhat stuck in a rut by forcing ourselves to do something different at every single show (mostly as a means of adding a dynamic confusion texture to the work). One show we’d be an acid punk band with guitars and primal drums; the next we’d be doing improv drone music; the next we’d be playing quiet experimental folk using toy instruments; and the next we’d be stomping around crooning the paganistic electro-crunk that eventually earned us the 2005 “Best Live Act” award from the Baltimore City Paper (at that time we were one of the few non-genre groups ever to achieve that distinction).  

Since we knew that Robert and his friends were more than enthusiastic about stretching the parameters of performance and presentation, it seemed like the autumn 2004 Cinci event needed to be extra special. Back in the early 2000′s our sets were often meticulously planned, especially sets that we did on tour. Shortly before we hit the road in October ‘04, I came up with the idea of taking a big chance in Cinci and trying out a set that incorporated nearly all of the various shades of Human Host into one mega-diverse half-hour production. Even if the idea fell flat, even if we totally screwed up, we knew that the Realicide kids would at the very least respect us for honestly trying to do something ambitious.

As it turned out, the risky/schizoid set idea paid off. Even the screw-ups ended up making the set incredibly powerful and special. Our demonic crunk tunes would end and we’d collapse on to the floor only to start improvising drones created with tape machines, microphones, and processed live toy drum sounds that lasted only for a minute at a time. As each drone segement unfolded we’d kill the lights using a floor switch connected to the harsh work lights we used to light up most of our 2000′s gigs. When the painful white lights blasted back on we blasted back into our crunkenstein alter egos, howling out our vocals in operatic/troubadour style as we carreened around the room, possessed by music and the ethereal madness of creation on the fly.

Sometimes when we’d kick off the lights we’d forget where the switch was and there’d be a few seconds of maniacal laughter and confusing/out-of-breath discussion accompanying the opening of each crunk beat as we fumbled around attempting to find the “on” switch again. Instead of causing a hiccup in the action, these spontaneous introduction skits only made the performance and the subsequent flood of brutal light a thousand times more intense. Though the dance moves may consequently have been extra sloppy, the overall effect of this set was more energetic and rewarding for both artist and audience than anything we’d done before.

The lyrics and prose of Human Host often detail the symbiotic relationships of vulnerability and chaotic energy, reality and fantasy, intoxication and sobriety, stupidity and intelligence, the old and the new, the weird and the normal, Earth and outer space. As this set concluded I really felt we had covered all of these bases and probably about a billion previously unknown others. That feeling was beyond exhilirating; in the space of a few minutes our entire world had undergone a radical/irrevocable change for the better. While the spring 2003 Human Host show at St. Thomas Church in Towson* was where we were spiritually born, Human Host’s Autumn 2004 Cincinnati show was where our spirit came of age; the *egg* of Human Host had hatched in an outburst of interdimensional multi-media *ecstasy*.

  - Mike Apichella, co-founder of Human Host

~

photo credit: two shots taken by Scott Russell at a Human Host tour date that occurred at Nowarehouse in Cincinnati, Ohio circa Autumn 2008; unfortunately there are no known photos of the first HH Cinci show circa 2004.

* https://humanhost.tumblr.com/post/704049932941803520/human-host-in-public-the-first-two-decades-part

[cissie-queen-jones]

I made….so many patch designs today. Initial stages of the zine are going pretty well

#even if I can’t make the zine I can still make stickers #overheard over dinner

[tannerballengee]

from my new zine {purchase here}

#overheard #drawing #zine #tanner ballengee #2017

[guileheroine]

overheard: is kuvira ready to atone?

Korra helps Kuvira work on turning her image around. 

this little ficlet was written for the @kuvira-zine, the full piece is up now. illustration by @willoghby 🖤

read on ao3

#kuvira #korra #legend of korra #lok fanfiction #korvira #**

[wormyorchids]

Zine in progress- overheard snippets from around Chicago & the bay

[feelingofcontent]

DNP Rewatch: How NOT to meet Emma Watson

Date video was published: 07/26/2014 (X)

DNP Main Channel Rewatch: 234

This is the first video Phil had actually filmed in about a month, since both his previous videos, Phil the Lion vs. Dan the Dinosaur! - WATER RACE and Eating Play-Doh! (with Phil & Jim), were filmed way ahead of when they were posted.

0:05 - again with the extremely bright pajama pants.

0:10 - would you not wear...shorts? lol. Or I guess if you’re Phil you just put your pants in the fridge. Sure.

0:24 - what even is that noise and face.

0:34 - fringe pushed back!

0:41 - his enthusiasm for fridge-pajamas was much more than the “it took my breath away” here

0:53 - Phil tweeted about this when it happened in mid-July (1, 2). I’m laughing that the conversation he overheard was about granola, hahaha

1:01 - living in a small-ish town it is so weird to me that people can just randomly see celebrities on the street

1:08 - awwww, “Hermy-one.” The amount of confusion over how to pronounce her name until the movies came out was too real.

1:17 - so things not-to-do if you see DNP in the wild I suppose?

1:36 - you would think he would have some comfort with speaking to celebrities at this point after the radio show, but I guess it’s very different when you have a chance to prepare

1:41 - “a useless flappy wet mouth tail” ...sure. 

1:49 - this wink went surprisingly well for Phil! although I’m not sure it was necessary 😳

1:57 - Phil tweeted about the storm getting his Furby wet. He still has it to this day though, even in the forever home background.

2:17 - I love that he equates buying antiques with being “mature” 😂

2:19 - it’s the start of the props chest!

2:33 - I wonder if this story is real or something the antique shop does to sell things...

2:57 - the random stuff just on the top layer there. Wow.

3:00 - well that was under Dan’s bed at one point in I’M A MESS

3:17 - a zine! Phil tweeted about this.

3:40 - draw-Phil-naked always seems like more of an afterthought by this point

This is just a casual Phil story-time video. Nothing particularly memorable about this one, other than the origin of the props box!

#dan and phil #dnp #dnpRewatch #amazingphil #phil lester #amazingphil videos #How NOT to meet Emma Watson

[srose-foxfire]

Damirae Zine 2021 Entree

A/N: Hello Everyone, i hope you’re all doing well. I wanted to share some one of my entrees for the Damirae Zine I submitted earlier this year. I am currently working on completing the last few chapters for “Fighting My Demon” (we’re nearing to the end!), “Under an Autumn Moonlight” (the chapter I had planned was rewritten after having beta reader read it for me) and “The Search” will be updated next week (out of all fics this one is the most challenging since new ideas keep popping up to ways the story can be tied together, resulting parts being rewritten. Without further ado enjoy this entry!

“A Gift from the Heart”

Raven couldn’t believe her eyes as she looked down at the wooden box filled with assorted hand-made resin jewelry. There were bracelets, necklaces, and brooches all filled with petals from various flowers. She looked up to find Damian, averting his emerald gaze to the ground as he fumbled with his thumbs.

Damian cleared his throat, clearly he was nervous before her. “I overheard Logan speaking of National Friends Day approaching and well... I wanted to give you something to show you my appreciation for being my best-friend.”

This was so unlike Damian; to struggle with his words. This wasn’t the same boy she met three years ago outside the Titan Tower. That time he was an unbearable brat, now Damian had become a friend she could share her secrets with. As her fingers glided over the handmade jewelry, she could detect Damian’s warmth still lingered on them and that made her body come alive.

“I know you aren’t the type to like expensive or extravagant gifts. So, I went ahead and made you something, that I hope is to your liking.”

This explained why she hadn’t seen him for the past week. He had confined himself to his room, and only allowed his friends to see him whenever they trained or were out patrolling. Raven continued looking through the various trinkets Damian had made just for her. She found a silver- chain necklace with an oval shaped pendant with a black feather and purple petals behind it. Using her magic, Raven wrapped the necklace around her neck. She looked down at it as it lay above her chest, Raven could feel her heart fluttering. Very carefully she closed the wooden box, it had an engraved cursive ‘R’ in the middle. She held it up against her aching chest, before long, tears started streaming down her face.

She knew what she had to do. She opened her eyes, her vision was blurred but she could tell Damian was in a state of shock. Raven took two steps toward him, she smiled at him “I love it, Damian. And I... I love you.” She said as she crushed her lips on his, letting all her feelings pour out. Damian in return wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him as their first kiss deepened.

“I love you too, Raven.”

Raven smiled as they continued to kiss and hoped with all her heart that their love would last lifetimes

[generaldisdainn]

The First Christmas in Forever

A big shoutout to @frozines and all of the talented and hardworking mods and contributors that came together to create a beautiful winter Frozen zine! <3 You can see the whole zine on their account. Also, a massive thanks to @punkpoemprose for beta reading my submission! She’s an incredible writer and I felt so lucky to have her read over my piece and help with edits!

Here is my piece for the zine! It takes place directly after Olaf’s Frozen Adventure and is just a little one shot of Anna and Kristoff getting to share a quiet moment together after the events of that short. I hope you enjoy! Happy holidays! <3

Rating: G

Pairing: Kristanna

Word count: 2,617

AO3 link

Summary: Kristoff and Anna share a quiet moment alone during their first holiday season together. (Some canon-compliant fluff taking place directly after Olaf's Frozen Adventure!)

The moon lingered high in the sky as one by one the Arendellian citizens began to take their leave from the holiday festivities. 

After the town search party found Olaf, everyone had stuck around for an impromptu holiday party of sorts. Elsa erected a beautiful Christmas tree, the castle staff and townsfolk brought out food and drinks to share, and everyone spent time enjoying the end to the first day of the holiday season.

Kristoff watched with rapt attention as Anna tended to the people of Arendelle. She offered them food, danced with the little ones, and checked in with each person, young or old. In truth, they could have left a while ago, and perhaps they should have. He saw the way she stifled a few yawns, the way she stumbled over her own feet. But Anna stayed. She stayed until the very last family bid their farewells. Only then did she turn to Kristoff with tired eyes and tell him she was ready to go home. 

“Did you have fun?”

“Oh yes,” she said with a yawn. “The best Yule bell day ever.” 

She leaned on his shoulder and looked up at him, eyes shimmering with the light of the stars above. Kristoff’s heart surged. 

***

Elsa bid them farewell at the top of the staircase once they got back to the palace. Anna took her into a tight hug, and Kristoff gave her one as well before they took their leave to their respective sides of the hall. Kristoff smiled as Anna passed by her own room and continued on down the hall toward his.

“Can I-” She always asked. But the answer was always the same. 

“Yes.”

They weren’t technically supposed to be sleeping in the same room, but after almost 5 months of Kristoff being around the castle and 4 of him having his own sleeping quarters, most everyone in the palace turned a blind eye to the matter, save for Elsa who would always tease them at dinner (to which Anna would kick her playfully and Elsa would laugh behind her hand). The only guards and maids who came by the sleeping quarters in the evenings or the early mornings were the most trusted and beloved. None of them would dare soil Anna’s reputation or happiness. Besides, she had been alone all those years. 

“Best to let her make up for lost time,” he’d overheard Gerda saying one evening. 

Countless nights spent together allowed them to settle comfortably into routine. Kristoff brushed his teeth and splashed his face with water before slipping into his palace pajamas (he loathed most of the stuffy clothes supplied to him by the palace staff, but the pajamas were to die for) and crawled into bed. He leaned back, watching Anna as she readied herself.

Her nightly routine had a lot more steps than his did, but he didn’t mind. It always gave him plenty of time to admire her while she stood by the bathroom sink. 

“Help?” 

She made her way to the side of the bed and stood there, beautiful shoulders and back turned to face him as she offered him the strings of her corset to untie. 

It had taken him much longer than he cared to admit to learn how to work the intricate strings and knots that were her dresses and undergarments, especially as experienced as he was with rope, but he took pride in the fact that he could now help her so well. It meant that he could now undress her and re-dress her perfectly so that she could slip away to him midday and then return to her duties without raising suspicion. It had proven to be a particularly useful skill in that regard.

He kissed her shoulder as the undergarment slipped off of her and she let out a soft breath before moving to change into her nightgown.

It was rare he saw Anna in these moods. Normally she was bubbly and exuberant, filling spaces with excited rambles and stories. It was as if she had lived in silence for so long that she never wanted it to be quiet ever again. But tonight, she was still, letting thick contemplative silence fall between them. 

Anna blew out the lamp and crawled in bed beside Kristoff, tucking herself delicately into his chest. She looked so small against him. So beautiful. So his.

“I love you,” he said. It felt like the best place to start.

“I love you too.” She nestled closer and breathed deeply. “I’m sleepy.”

“I can tell.” A soft, rumbling laugh left him at that. “You had fun though?”

“I did.”

“What was your favorite part?”

Anna hummed in consideration and cuddled closer into him. “Definitely watching Olaf put his star on the tree. What about yours?”

“I liked watching you dance. Especially with the kids.” 

There was a time not so long ago when he may have refrained from admitting something so vulnerable or with such big implications. But they were at a point where absentminded talk of their future together was not uncommon. 

“I didn’t know you were watching.”

“I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you.”

He could feel her sigh of contentment rumble against his chest and he had the urge to pull her impossibly closer until she was a part of him. 

“I’m sorry we didn’t dance together.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t dance with you. I was so busy talking with everyone else and making sure that everyone was having a good time that I forgot to, I don’t know, do things that I wanted to do.” 

“I’m sorry, Anna, I didn’t realize-”

“It’s okay. I had a good time, I just missed you I guess. I was trying to make it special for everyone else, and I forgot to make it special for us.” She traced circles on his chest with a delicate finger, and he watched as she bit at the inside of her cheek. 

He hated watching her overanalyze herself or judge herself so harshly for things she hadn’t even done wrong. 

“Alright, come on. Up.” He reached for her hand and sat up, motioning towards the floor. 

“What are you doing?”

“Just for a second,” he reassured as he stood to his feet and brought her up with him. 

He was lucky the moon was still streaming in through the window so that he could see her clearly.

They stood across from each other and Anna gazed at him inquisitively. 

Before he felt too silly or could second guess what he was about to do, he extended a hand to her and watched as her cheeks flushed in the evening glow. “May I have this dance?”

A smile broke out onto her face and she eagerly took his hand, immediately pulling him into her and wrapping her arms around his waist. There she was. He loved when she took the lead. He swayed in time with her moves, dancing to the imagined music of her heart.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked after a moment when her swaying slowed and she pressed her head against his chest.

“Tonight was beautiful, it really was.”

Kristoff paused to let her continue. He knew that if he replied the moment would be lost, her worries pushed down only to reveal themselves another day. It was a gentle process of teaching each other to let go and be open, but it was one that he was happy to learn by her side. 

 “I just can’t stop thinking about how much time I lost here alone.”

His heart caught in his throat. She had lost 13 years to loneliness and confusion. 13 years of stolen time and missing moments. It was something that pained her often. 

“I know.” He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

“Did you have a good night?” she asked, her voice laced with the sudden worry that he hadn’t enjoyed himself. 

It was as if she was afraid that if he hadn’t had a good time he would leave her. But he wouldn’t. And she knew that. She just needed to be reminded every now and again, something Kristoff was happy to do.

“I did, Anna. I always had my family during this time of year, but sometimes I still felt like an outsider. It was nice to be a part of something that was mine. This is the first Christmas in Arendelle where I felt like I belonged.”

She smiled up at him and placed a hand on his chest. 

He continued, making sure she saw the earnesty in his eyes as he spoke. 

“I know you feel like you need to make up for all of this lost time, and that all of these firsts need to be perfect, but tonight was ours. You were there, and Elsa was there, and Olaf, and Sven, and all of Arendelle, and that made it perfect. We were all together. And we get to do this every year for the rest of our lives.”

“You’re right.” She took a calming breath and let the tension leave her chest. “I love you.” Anna pulled him into a tight embrace, arms holding him close to her as she breathed deeply. 

He felt her relax against him, his heart swimming with pride in the fact that he was able to comfort her. They had come so far together. 

“I love you too.”

Her eyes flickered with their familiar, mischievous glow as she pulled back to look at him. “I’m hungry.”

Kristoff laughed. Of course she was. “Anna, it’s so late.”

“I know, but it’s that time of year,” she urged, poking at his sides and pulling another chuckle out of him.

“Okay, okay, feisty pants.”

***

They stole away to the kitchen, snickering as they tried to stay quiet while boiling milk and melting chocolate to blend together into a creamy, chocolatey drink. They brought their warm mugs filled to the brim with hot chocolate back to Kristoff’s room and sipped at them together on the floor. The dancing and the chocolate and the giggles took their tired eyes and traded them for ones alight with joy and lost in the possibilities of Christmases to come. 

“Tell me your favorite holiday memory,” Anna said, stretching out her legs and resting back on the floor after a long sip of hot chocolate. 

It didn’t take Kristoff long to think of one. It had stuck with him for as long as he could remember, and it was one of his favorites. 

“This was my first Christmas with the Trolls. I think I had finally left the orphanage for good a few months before, so I had only been with them for a short while, and I remember I still felt guilty for being there.”

Anna sat up and rubbed his arm as he spoke of that time. He had told her how hard it had been, and whenever he recalled his darker days she always listened with close attention and a comforting hand rested somewhere on him to let him know that she was there. It kept him grounded, and he appreciated it more than she would probably ever know. 

“I wasn’t expecting any gifts or to be involved in their celebration. I had never really been included in Christmas celebrations at the orphanage, so I was planning on heading out with Sven on Christmas and then coming back after everything was done. But on Christmas Eve, Bulda pulled me aside and told me she wanted to give me an early gift. It was this beautiful fire crystal, just like the ones that all the other trolls earn after doing something brave. She said it was mine for being so strong and for finding my way to them. She said that I was the bravest person she had ever known and that she loved me and that I had earned it.”

 Kristoff felt Anna’s small hand wrap around his as he continued, fingers locking together and anchoring him to her. 

“I felt awful because I hadn’t even gotten her anything in return, but she said that me finding my way to them and letting her care for me was the best gift of all.” 

Kristoff wiped at a stray tear that threatened to fall as he recalled the memory. 

“Sorry,” he murmured with a slight, self-conscious chuckle. 

Anna wiped at his cheek with her finger, drying his tears and holding his face in her gentle hand. She hushed his apology and spoke to him in a soothing voice. 

“Kristoff, that’s such a beautiful story.”

He nodded and met her eyes, suddenly unafraid to show her his that were glistening with the beginnings of happy tears. 

“Do you have any favorite holiday memories?”

“Hmmm, let me think.” 

She took a moment, face scrunched up in contemplation, before continuing. 

“There was this one year when Elsa was the first to wake up on Christmas morning. I always woke up before her, so it was kind of a big deal and I teased her about it a bunch. But anyway, we went downstairs together, and there was this beautiful dollhouse left for us. It was so detailed. Elsa and I played with it all the time. I, uh, kicked it once in one of the first weeks Elsa went away because I was so upset. My mom got mad at me and took it away, so I don’t know where it is anymore. But I loved that thing. We both did. And that was such a beautiful Christmas, too. My dad sang for us by the fire and Elsa and I danced all night. I hope we can do things like that now that I have a family again.” 

Anna squeezed Kristoff’s hand at the word family. He was family. He smiled, heart surging at the reminder that they had a lifetime of holiday memories to make together. He’d throw her a Christmas party every night if it meant filling her life with the light she had missed out on all those years.

“You’re never going to be alone again.” He said it like a promise, so soft and sure into the night. 

Anna’s breath hitched at his words, and she placed a gentle kiss to his lips, stopping only to murmur against them. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Kristoff blushed. Despite all the time they had spent together, the smallest actions still gave him butterflies. 

Anna yawned then as they parted, arms thrown up over her head in a stretch that told Kristoff the tiredness had finally caught back up to her.

“Alright, it’s bedtime.” Kristoff wasn’t sure what time it was, but he knew by the way her eyelids fluttered it was time for them to sleep. He put their empty mugs up on his desk and picked up Anna before she could protest, carrying her into his bed and placing her down gently before crawling in beside her.

“We’re going to see your family next week, right?” Anna asked as another yawn overtook her, and she resumed drawing tiny circles on Kristoff’s chest with an absentminded hand.

“Yes. They’re so excited to see you.”

“And we’re doing that thing at the orphanage, too, right?”

“Mmhmm.” 

Anna had started lining up gifts for the kids at the orphanage weeks ago in preparation for their visit there. Another yawn overtook her, and Kristoff smiled as he watched the way her eyes closed and her mouth fell into a gentle smile. “Merry Christmas, Kristoff,” she said into his chest.

“Merry Christmas, Anna,” he replied as he held her closer and felt himself drifting to sleep right behind her.

#winterwonderlandfrozine #kristanna

[thesvenqueen]

The Black Flamed Candle

Rating: G

Pairing: Kristanna

Summary: A life taken too soon. A plan set in place to save her soul. Now she waits, and listens, for the right time. Her lover, once before, to return back to her side, For only he can light the candle, and bring her back to life. (My contribution to the Halloween Zine 2020)

Happy Halloween everyone!

He pauses his work as he hears his door slam open, looking up to find a familiar face. 

Instead of a sweet smile, however, it is stricken with fear. 

“What’s happened?” He asks, dropping his tools to come to her. 

“There’s--there’s not much time I--” the woman sobs.

“What is it, what’s wrong my love?”

Sad blue eyes look up to him, voice shaky as she speaks, “I’ve been accused.”

~.~

He’s eight when he first sets eyes on the Sander’s house.

They’re on a field trip to celebrate Halloween. Kristoff isn’t sure how he comes across the old cabin, but he does so with ease.

That’s where his teacher finds him, the young boy staring intently at the old house.

“Oh Kristoff, you found the Sander’s house. Do you know the story?” The boy shakes his head, turning to look up at her. “Well, it’s said that two young witches lived there.”

“Witches?” He says, the word new to him.

“Yes, witches. They could do magic!” The teacher says with emphasis, “but these witches were bad witches, they did awful magic to people.”

Kristoff isn’t sure why, but without hesitation he says, “No they didn’t.”

His teacher goes silent, simply looking down at him confused. “What?”

“They didn’t do bad things,” he says, more sure now as he looks back to the house, “They didn’t.”

“How do you know that?”

Kristoff shrugs, “I just know.”

~.~

“By whom?”

“I do not know. I only know because of Elizabeth, she overheard one of the members whispering.”

“They will not hurt you,” he says, grabbing hold of her hands, “I will not let them lay a hand.”

She smiles at this, another sob escaping her, “I can not ask you to defend me.”

“I do so willingly,” he says, kissing her knuckles, “I will protect you with my life.”

~.~

It’s his first Halloween when he’s able to go off on his own. 

He’s only 13, as his mother likes to remind him constantly, but he feels more like an adult than ever before. He’s outside, no parents in sight, free to do whatever he wants. It’s every kid’s dream.

They’re playing hide and seek, trick or treating long forgotten, and as Sven begins to count Kristoff takes off to the woods. 

All the good hiding spots have already been found in previous games, so the pressure is on. He’s still running, not sure where he is nor really caring because he has to win. 

It’s only when he breaks through the trees, feet hitting a concrete path that he stops. 

He looks both ways, trying to catch his bearings and he realizes he’s made it to the park. It’s not far from his house, he knows this, but he’s surprised either way to find he’s made it here of all places. 

Then he feels it, a chill running up his spine that causes the hairs on the back of his neck to rise. 

Something was here, what exactly he isn’t sure. 

It’s not Sven, no way he had caught up to him just yet. 

Still, something was here and that something was pulling him to follow, beckoning him to come. 

He looks behind him, not hearing or seeing a sign of Sven or the other boys from the block, and turns back down the path. 

So he follows. 

It doesn’t take long for him to find his destination, Kristoff coming to a halt when he sees it.

The Sander’s house. 

It’s creepier at night, a contrast to the broken down cabin he’s seen within the day. Now it stands in the moonlight, early dark and broken before him.

As it does every time, he feels familiarity upon seeing it. As though he knows what lies inside, knows the makeup of the old house. Knows that the kitchen, as small as it is, lies to the right side of the cabin, giving way to two small sitting chairs near the fireplace. Knows that it has two bedrooms, one of which he knows has a bundle of dried wildflowers hanging above the small bed. 

More importantly, he knows that it held happiness here. 

It’s then, with that thought, he hears it.

A soft laugh, carried in the breeze and it makes Kristoff jump. 

He doesn’t wait, doesn’t hesitate to bolt back into the woods, leaving the cabin behind him.

~.~

“I can not bare the thought of losing you, of you dying because of me.”

“And I can not sit back and watch you die.”

A knock interrupts them, the man instinctively moving in front of her and grabbing hold of the fire poker. Ready for whomever may come for her, for his love, his heart. 

But it is not the village nor their leader, it is her sister. 

“Elizabeth? Why are you--”

“There is not much time, have you told him?” The younger sister nods. “Then we must make haste.”

~.~

Kristoff hears the family clock chime as it calls the hour. 

10:00. 

The house is still, silent as the clock’s song finishes. For a minute, Kristoff listens to any movement, any sign of someone awake. 

He hears nothing. 

With that, he eases out of his bed, still dressed from earlier today.

He’s thankful his mother did not question his desire to stay in his room this evening, assuming the 16 year old was merely bored and watching horror movies within his room. 

He’d watched one to pass the time, some new one Sven had recommended, turning the tv off to give the illusion he’d gone to sleep. It had worked.

The window slides up easily, hardly making a sound as he pushes it up. Steadily, carefully, he climbs out the window. He is sure to take light steps as he turns, pushing the window down just enough where he can get back in later tonight but not open enough to draw suspicion. 

Just as he turns to leave, he feels as though he is forgetting something. Turning back, he looks into the window and spies what it is he is missing. A lighter, one his friend had left behind that Kristoff held onto for whatever reason. He pauses before reaching for it, slightly confused at why he suddenly needed the lighter tonight. 

He takes it though, sliding the window back up enough for his hand to sneak in and grab it, putting it in his jacket pocket.

The night is cool, autumn in full effect now on this Halloween night. Kristoff can hear a few voices down the street, no doubt a few teens still out and about enjoying the festive evening. 

He ignores them though, going the path he has come to know far too well. 

One he has come to follow every Halloween. 

The familiar pull guides him, leading him to the destination in little time. He only stops when he is right in front of it. 

Kristoff looks it over, trying to work over what exactly could be happening with him and this cabin. What has somehow created a connection with him and this barely standing structure.

He knows the stories, the history by heart. After the encounter 3 years prior, he took it upon himself to look up everything and anything he could on the house and the residents that lived inside. There was not much, only small bits and pieces here and there but it was enough. 

Anna and Elizabeth Sanders. 

Sisters who had come for the new world nearly 300 years ago, leaving behind their home in Norway. There was little known about their parents. Only mentions of them being well liked and respected in their home village. They had journeyed before the girls, traveling to the new world only a week prior. Their ship never reached its destination, and historians assume it was lost at sea. 

The sisters found their way to the new world as orphans, settling in the cabin that sits before Kristoff now. They had been well liked, from what he could find, by majority of the village. 

After that, it was all rumors and speculations, tales that had been told throughout the town.

No actual facts of what transpired that led to the youngest, Anna, to lose her life so young. Only that she had been accused of witchcraft, as so many women during that time had been. 

No trial was given, only giving what the people then deemed as justice. 

One blogger said that she was responsible for the disappearance of children, and thought that she was using their lives to keep herself young. 

Another speculated she’d been careless, casting a spell in front of watchful eyes that led to her doom.

A reddit thread blamed it on a jealous man, scorned by her denial for her hand and accused her out of pure anger and rage.  

An author had written it off as just another sad moment in history for women during that time, and that was it. 

Though even having such little information, Kristoff was fully engaged into the story of this little house. 

He’d never come close to the house, always staying on the paved path before it but tonight felt different.

He feels bolder, confident; not as scared like he was years before. 

So he moves forward, taking slow careful steps as he comes to the front of the house. The porch, though broken and rotten, still stands strong as Kristoff steps upon it. It creaks with his weight, but it does not bend. 

Kristoff stares at the door, the same feel of familiarity filling him. He rolls the lighter in his hand over and over, as though he is working up the nerve. Out of what feels like instinct, he brings his free hand up and knocks softly. The sound seems to echo through the night, into the forest around him.

Then it is still.

Eerily so. 

Then, as the breeze rustles through the trees behind him and around him, he hears it. 

It’s soft, barely there but he hears it well enough to jump back. 

Kristoff.

His name, clear as day, had been whispered into his ear.

~.~

“Why don’t we run? I can prepare a horse and--”

“We can not,” The elder sister says, “there is no time. They were gathering as I came for you.”

“But--”

“I’m sorry.” she says, grabbing hold of her younger sibling, “I’m sorry I’ve failed you but I will not fail you again. I swear it.”

“You have not failed me.” She says, “It was not your doing that led to this, you did not cause this.”

“No,” the man says, his voice booming as the sisters turn to him. “I will have none of this.” He says, turning to find a true weapon, “I will not hear goodbyes, I will not accept this fate.”

The young woman turns to her lover, placing a hand to his chest to still him. He does so, tears stinging his eyes as they do her own, and he can not think of a world where she is not in it. Of a time where he exists and she does not. He does not want it, can not fathom such a life. 

~.~

The dreams follow after that night. As though his knocking had been answered after all, opening a door elsewhere that he could not see.

It’s always the same. 

He comes to the cabin, knocking the same as he did once before but this time the door opens revealing a home no more in shambles but tidy and clean. 

There, just inside, stands a young woman.

From the moment Kristoff first saw her in the dream, he knew instantly that he knew her. How or where or why, he was not sure, but he knew her immediately. 

From her long strawberry blonde hair, to her sea colored eyes, the freckles that scattered across her face, the large bright smile that she always has when he enters opens the door, the way her eyes seem to sparkle, to ignite as he comes in; as though he brings hope, brings her so much happiness that no one else can. 

Every time, without fail, she stands behind the door and everytime she holds a large black candle in her hands, its flame oddly glowing the same eerie black as the candle.

He comes to her, standing before her and watches as her eyes follow him, still smiling a radiant smile. She looks to him, then to the candle and just when he moves to touch her, to place a hand to her waist or cup her cheek, he wakes up. 

When he does, he is always filled with an intense feeling of dread and sorrow. 

~.~

“I can offer something.”

The two lovers turn to the eldest, watching as she pulls a book from beneath her cloak and begins to turn the pages. 

“What have you found?”

After a moment, the pages stop turning and the blonde haired woman speaks, “It’s a spell, one that I can create to give you the life you deserve.” She is crying now, reading through her tears, “It won’t be enough, not nearly enough, but I can try…”

The young woman comes to her sister, placing a hand on her shoulder to bring her eyes up to hers, “You’ve done more than you know dear sister.”

The older sister sobs, both sobbing as they hug one another. The man watches them, his heart slowly shattering at the notion this may be the end. 

“Ok,” the oldest speaks, pulling back as she looks back to the book, “There is not much time so I will have to explain quickly…”

~.~

While everyone else moves away, including Sven, Kristoff can not bring himself to do it. 

College in and of itself was difficult enough. The familiar pull to come back always there, nearly begging and pleading him to do so. 

He was never too far, only an hour or so away, but it was enough to make his chest ache. For the first time, his dreams change. 

No longer is the woman smiling as he enters, a sadness now in her eyes every time he appears. The candle she holds is no longer lit, adding to the sorrow that now sits within this dream. She speaks now, no longer quiet, and she always repeats the same thing:

“Kristoff.” She says, in her hauntingly familiar voice, “Kristoff, come back. Come home.” 

So he does. 

He graduates with his degree and finds a good enough job to pay the bills, a historian of all things, settling into a new routine. The ache is now gone, only coming back as it always does as the leaves begin to change to signal the beginning of fall. 

It’s the morning of Halloween when he decides he’s going to do it. He’s waited long enough, pushed the idea away far too long now. Something, whether the woman or the cabin itself, wants him to enter. 

Needs him to enter. 

So tonight he will.

He’s planned it, able to snag the spare key to the house from security a few days before. He hadn’t even questioned the fact, assuming it was for historian things. 

Kristoff spends the day preparing, for what exactly he doesn’t know. He’s nervous, ridiculously so, and he feels incredibly silly picking out an outfit to wear. 

Why was he trying to look his best? He was going to an abandoned house, no one was there. Yet, something within him wanted him to do so. So here he was, making sure to be clean shaven, dressed as nice as he can without going overboard. 

Night comes slowly, agonizingly so, and Kristoff sits impatiently for the sun to fully set. As soon as it does, he is up and gone, opting for a car this time instead of walking. 

The whole drive he ponders, wonders, questions what could happen this night. 

~.~

“And you’re sure it will work?”

“Yes, it shall work.” 

She turns, facing him, the question in her eyes that she doesn’t need to ask. He sighs, nodding as his tears begin to fall. 

She smiles weakly, understanding what is to come and they come together as they both desperately try to hold on to as much as they can for this last moment.

“I’ll come for you.” He whispers in her hair, “I promise you, with my life, I will come for you and we will live together. I promise you this Anna.”

The girl shakes as she cries in his chest, only nodding at his words.

“I love you.” He says, over and over, “I love you.”

~.~

Kristoff nearly runs to the house, not wasting any time to get to his destination. He picks up his pace when he sees the house come into view. 

He’s panting as he steps onto the porch, adjusting his jacket and checking his pocket for the old lighter and the key. He takes a deep breath, preparing for whatever it is on the other side of the door, for whatever it is that has pulled him here every year. 

To find what it is the woman in his dreams wants him to discover. 

Kristoff pulls out the key, unlocks the lock from the door and lets it fall to the ground with an echoing bang. He looks back up, hand on the handle, and before he turns he knocks as he’s done so many times in his dream. 

It’s pitch black as he enters, his eyes adjusting to the darkness within. It’s exactly as he’s seen it so many times, only dark and decrepit. The chairs have since fallen apart, barely standing and the kitchen is covered with dust and cobwebs. 

More importantly, there is no woman within the house. No bright, welcoming smile to greet him as Kristoff steps into the home. 

As he enters, as he steps across the threshold, there is an overwhelming feeling of calm that comes over him. A peace that causes him to pause in his entrance. It’s welcoming, comforting, something he senses he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

While he stands, looking at his broken surroundings, he spots it on the nearby table. 

The familiar and oh so recognizable black candle. It stands tall, untouched by time as it’s surroundings have been. It seems new, as though someone came in and left it there recently. Kristoff looks it over, turning the lighter over and over in his jacket pocket before pulling it out. 

He moves to the table, the woods creaking beneath his feet, and he doesn’t know why but he must light the candle.

Has to light the candle. 

There is a quiet click as the lighter creates a flame, Kristoff eyeing it then the candle before moving it slowly to the wick. 

As soon as the candle alights, as the flame takes hold of the wick creating the familiar black flame Kristoff has seen in his dreams, he is consumed by a wave of memories. 

Of a time so long ago, of a journey he once took abroad a small vessel to the new world. The days he spent building, working hard to create a home here, a life. Then they’d arrive, the two Sander’s sisters. Elizabeth was so calm and poise, a striking contrast to the lively and bright Anna who had taken his breath away the moment he’d laid eyes on her. 

Of their awkward first meeting, at the sound of her laugh as he’d blushed furiously down at her. How they’d been inseparable ever since that day, sneaking off when they could to spend time with the other. Of late night walks under the brightly lit sky, of strolling through the town hand in hand, taking in what was all around them.

The night they’d spent alone in his cabin, Anna having snuck out to meet him. It was the night her secret was shared, was told to him in confidence and with eyes full of tears she had asked him if he still loved her. He’d simply said how could he not? How they’d shared more than secrets that night, giving each other wholly and fully to each other.

They’d been set to marry in the Summer, her favorite season, with a bundle of sunflowers which he'd planted for her. Just for her. 

How she never got to see them, never had the chance.

The day that it came crashing down around them, her secret somehow exposed for all to know. She’d come to him, completely terrified with news of what had transpired, how a new villager had decided to go an unspeakable way of revenge after she’d turned down his advances. 

The moment Elizabeth had appeared, plan in mind, to set things right and give them both a future they deserved. To give back what was to be taken away from them.

It would take time, she’d warned, lots of time but she swore, on her life, that they would get the ending they deserved. The happiness they both were supposed to have. All it would take was the lighting of a candle, the same candle that sat before him on the table. 

Kristoff blinks, dropping the lighter to the table as he takes it all in. The old memories, the realization of what exactly this means. 

He hears footsteps then, coming up the path to the door and Kristoff turns as he hears the floors creak under their weight. He holds his breath, waiting in excitement and awe as she listens to her move through the door.

“Kristoff?” 

He gasps at her voice, at the wonderful sound of her saying his name.

A few more steps and she appears.There, standing before him now, smiling and beaming at him with the same beautiful smile he’s always loved, was Anna. 

He smiles, tears falling as he simply stares. He doesn’t move, let alone speak as he takes in the sight of her, of the woman he had so wholeheartedly and completely loved.

Whom he still loved, would forever love. 

Anna moves closer, the tears in her eyes now visible and he doesn’t reach out till he hears her say his name, this time in absolute utter relief.

“Kristoff.”

He breaks, moving and wrapping her in his arms then, holding her close to his chest as he breathes in the scent of her, takes in the feel of her small arms wrapping around him. 

“Anna.” he whispers in her hair, “Anna, my Anna...I’ve missed you.”

“And I’ve missed you.” She says, pulling back to face him. He cups her cheek, he himself now sobbing at the feel of her leaning into his hand, a subtle reminder that she was here; she was real.“What took you so long?”

Kristoff laughs, full and deep before capturing her lips with his own. 

#kristanna #kristoff #anna #halloween zine 2020 #jessica writes #the black flamed candle

[kaichan24]

Favorite (5+1 Things) fics: part one.

The L Words.  Five times someone had a one-sided crush on Katsuki Yuuri, and one time the crush was mutual.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10069508

that tiny instant of all eternity.  (Five moments—and then some—where Yuuri manages to find home in Viktor’s arms.)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18675211

Food and Cheer and Song Above Hoarded Gold.  Sometimes to feel at home, all you require is a favored dish made with care and love. A piece featuring how food can make a home from the Okaeri Zine: Uchi edition in collaboration with Annie's Art World.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18670981

The Deconstruction of Stars.  5 times Victor turned the legends about him on their heads + 1 time he was exactly as expected.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14407356

Five Times Yuuri Doesn't Give His Autograph (And the One Time He Does). 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17456165

Unworthy.  5 Times Victor Overheard People Saying Yuuri Wasn't Good Enough For Him and 1 Time Someone Told Him Yuuri Was Too Good For Him

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8827657

things heart-shaped and not.  (Or: 5 heart-shaped and 1 non-heart-shaped thing Yuuri gives Victor.)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21953191

In My Secret Life.  It's not always easy being in the public eye as the face of your sport when you're an introvert that would rather read. Five times Russia's Living Legend of Figure Skating had to navigate raucous socialization when he really wanted to just sit in quiet to recharge and the one time he had a fabulous time and didn't care.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11798475

~ End Game ~.  Five times Victor decides to try to distract Yuuri with sex while he’s playing video games, and one time Yuuri pays him back.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21634549/chapters/51587944

Pass It As You Please. The five other lives Nishigori Yuuko could have lived. For Primadonna zine.

 https://archiveofourown.org/works/18400889

#Yuri on ice #YOI #yuuri katsuki #yuri katsuki #Viktor Nikiforov #victor nikiforov #victuri #viktuuri #victuuri #yuuri x victor #viktor x yuuri #yuko nishigori #Takeshi Nishigori #phichit chulanont #christophe giacometti #minako okukawa #hiroko katsuki #toshiya katsuki #mari katsuki #celestino cialdini #leo de la iglesia #michele crispino #sara crispino #yuri plisetsky #yurio #nikolai plisetsky #yoi fic #yoi fanfic

[blissfulnightrain]

Oh man am I excited to share this post!

Last year, I somehow got chosen to be a contributor for the @kairizine! It was an amazing experience getting to work with the many talented contributors and amazing mods with this team, I truly couldn’t ask for a better experience. Pre-orders closed for their first round back in March, and all packages were sent out, which means we finally got the green light to post our pieces! I hope you enjoy this story even a fraction of how much I enjoyed writing it.

If you missed the first round of pre-orders and would still like a copy and the merch, fear not! We’ll be opening for another round come July 5th! Follow the zine handle to keep up with updates!

Lastly, I do have the piece posted to AO3 and FFN, if those are your preferred reading sites!

Without further ado, here it is!

A Reason to Believe

Word Count: 2852

Summary: As Sora returns to Hollow Bastion to close its keyhole and save Riku, Kairi is left alone in Traverse Town to reflect on their journey thus far. There had to be more that she could have done...but what? Perhaps the "stranger" she meets might have answers about the strength she so desires.

***

Kairi wasn't supposed to be outside.

Not without supervision at least. But with Aerith, Yuffie, and Leon now gone and only the occasional check-in from Cid, who was very much preoccupied with his business, life practically alone at the small house in the Third District grew agonizingly stagnant.

She didn't plan on going too far—she was well aware of the potential risks. All she needed was a small change in scenery.

Very carefully she looked both ways, making sure her coast was clear. With no Heartless in sight, she stepped one foot out of the house and onto the cobblestone street, the other following as she gently shut the door behind her. It was a cool night out, as it always was. The sun never shined in Traverse Town, the sky's canvas instead perpetually painted with hues of black, navy, and purple, decorated with a smattering of shimmering, glittery stars. If she could tunnel her vision, drown out the sight of the brick buildings and glowing neon signs that surrounded her, she could have sworn she was looking at the same dark sky that canopied the humble island that she grew up on at night.

In fact, she knew for sure now that that was the case, wasn't it?

"Every single one of those stars...they're another world." She recalled Riku saying some version of this almost every time during their late nights out on the beach, strands of his silver hair dancing in the seabreeze as he gazed above.

"Every single one?" Sora's cerulean eyes would grow wide, his mouth agape in wonder.

"Every single one," Riku would echo with a nod. "We're on just one among who knows how many."

They were going to see them all. Together.

But things hadn't gone as they'd intended. The light of their tiny world could no longer be seen up there, blinking out the moment it fell to the darkness, and though they'd managed to journey far, far away, they'd all been forced to travel on their own individual paths.

Or so it seemed.

Whether she'd ever realized it during the time or not, she could not say, but through Sora's heart and eyes, she'd walked his path beside him. New friends, long battles, and so many sights that had been encountered—it all was barely fathomable to think about. There were so many new experiences, and eventually one that rang all too familiar.

Their previous destination, before she and Sora had returned to Traverse Town, was a dreary land they now called "Hollow Bastion." It was aptly named; a barren land where waterfalls rose, eluding the lush gardens they once fed—gardens she knew she'd once played in herself.

Even though she associated the islands with her childhood, she would never quite be able to shake the familiarity with that foreign-but-not place. She'd felt it the moment she (or Sora, to put it more accurately) set foot on that world. It didn't look anything like she remembered, but then again...she didn't really remember it at all. The sight of the castle and the paved walkways all brought little flashes of recollection, but they almost instantly were snuffed out by the Heartless that ran amok.

The Heartless threat only grew worse, forcing her and Sora to flee and seek refuge back in Traverse Town after they'd saved one another. But Riku still remained there, trapped by the dark road he'd chosen. Despite her panic, Kairi could discern the desperation to abandon that path in those last moments she'd been in his presence. Paired with an unlocked Keyhole sending more monsters across the worlds, Sora had been forced to return with that Keyblade that had been mysteriously ordained to him.

"You'd...kind of be in my way." Sora was frank when she asked him if she could come along. Her giggles echoed off the hollow stone walls of that musty cave (that reminded her so much of the Secret Place back on the island), masking the sinking feeling she felt in her gut when she'd heard him say that. After all, they'd made it so far by sticking together, hadn't they?

Still, it wasn't hard to understand where he was coming from. She'd never quite been able to keep up with her friends as they raced and sparred against each other, nor had she been chosen to wield any sort of universe-saving magical weapon. No, all she could do now was stand by and wait for Sora and Riku's safe return.

She could only hope that was good enough.

Thoughts began to race through her mind once more, thoughts she was no stranger to. Would Sora return okay? Would Riku return to being the boy they'd grown up alongside, or had the darkness stolen him away from them forever? Would either of them be able to restore balance to all the worlds that had been lost?

"They're just kids…" She'd overheard Leon discussing the matter with Aerith before they, too, had left her behind and went to join Sora. Though they'd explained that they were just going to check on the state of their home world, Kairi couldn't help but sense the dejection in Leon's tone. And she couldn't really blame him; after all, what could a bunch of kids do?

"By any chance are you lost, my dear?" Kairi jumped, startled at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. A shiver ran down her spine as she inspected her surroundings once more; her coast remained clear to her right and in front of her, but to her left…

"Oh, I didn't mean to frighten you," the owner of the voice said apologetically. At first obscured by the shadows of the night, her features became more apparent when she stepped under the glow of the street lamps. The light revealed a stout woman about the same height as her, a brown shawl draped over her shoulders and the purple ankle-length dress she wore. Her gray hair was tied up in a bun set high on her head, her indigo eyes crinkling as her cheeks and lips lifted into a warm smile.

"I-it's okay," Kairi responded, now turning to face the elderly woman. "I just didn't expect to see anyone else out here."

"I could say the same." The woman chuckled. "Well, it won't do a young girl such as yourself much good to stay out here for too long. Conditions are quite dangerous right now, with all those monsters running around. I wouldn't be out here if I didn't need to be." Kairi's attention was then drawn to the plastic bags she was carrying. "It's best we both get back to where we belong as soon as we can."

"Right." Kairi smiled politely. The elderly woman wasn't wrong, and luckily enough all Kairi needed to do to go back inside was turn around and walk a couple of paces in the direction she came from. But… "Would I be able to help you with those?" She pointed towards the bags, which appeared heavy in the woman's frail hands. And who knew how much further she would have to carry them to reach her destination?

"Oh, dear, that's very kind of you to offer, but I wouldn't want you to travel further than you need to."

A small frown appeared on Kairi's lips. Even if it was in such a small capacity, to be able to help this woman… "I really don't mind!" She extended her arms out towards her elder, her lips now turned upwards. "You'll need to get home as soon as you can, too."

The woman hesitated a moment before finally relenting and passing the bags over, smile lines appearing at the corners of her mouth. "Well, you do make an offer that's difficult to refuse."

It was as Kairi began taking the bags that the woman's complexion turned pallid, eyes wide in shock.

"Oh, look out! Behind you!" Kairi hastily turned around, only to recoil at the sight.

A small group of Heartless had appeared. Some were flying, others were bound to the ground, some were with weapons, others had their fists or talons bared, and all of them were teeming with a dark, deadly intent to strike every living, breathing being in their path.

She knew she had mere seconds to decide what to do next. Getting the old woman home would be impossible under these conditions, but she had the presence of mind to remember an alternative option for shelter. "Over here!" As the swarm began to close in, Kairi gestured for the woman to follow when she darted around back towards the door to the small house. She only half-noticed that her wrists felt lighter when she reached for the door, hastily opening it while pulling the old woman inside along with her.

The soles of Kairi's shoes squeaked against the familiar hardwood floor, the woman's tapping behind her almost immediately after. Following her was the sound of the door slamming shut, standing as the only barrier between them and the threat outside. They held their breath at the continued thumping against the door, and Kairi's eyes darted frantically around the room trying to find something, anything, to stave off the potential intruders.

When she felt something grab her hand, she nearly lashed out, only to quickly realize that it was the woman's comforting squeeze.

"Believe in the light," she whispered softly. And though they were mere words, Kairi found her heart responding. She closed her eyes, melding into the woman's touch as a sudden wave of calm washed over her amidst the clamor from beyond the walls. A small flame began to flicker and glow at the hearth of her chest, its warmth spreading through her veins and encapsulating her. If she could somehow make it burn even brighter, proliferate those whisps and embers past the door to lick at their enemies, even if just to ward them away...

Whether seconds or an eternity had passed by the time Kairi reopened her eyes, she could not say. The woman's delicate palm was still in her own, the walls around them remained intact, and there was silence.

Silence.

"See that?" The woman beamed, now taking Kairi's other hand. "They're gone."

"They are," Kairi replied with a grin of her own. "Thank you." The two stood quietly, reveling in the now-peaceful moment, and the shelter and safety of one another.

"...I promised I'd help you get home," Kairi finally interjected into the silence. "I'll take you there now."

"Oh, dear, you've done more than enough—"

"Please." Whether it was Kairi's pleading tone, or perhaps it was in spite of it, the woman was chuckling.

"Your determination is quite admirable, I must say."

"I'll make sure the coast is clear." Kairi finally let go of the woman to make her way over towards the door, slowly turning its knob before creaking it open. Sure enough, there were no enemies in sight. Looking both ways as she had done before, she slowly stepped out, one foot after the other, before giving the woman the confirmation.

It was when the woman caught up to her that she noticed the mess in the corner of her vision. "Oh, no…" she groaned.

"What is it, child?" the woman inquired, concerned.

"I...I'm really sorry," Kairi replied, dejected as she walked over to the source of her dismay: remnants of the plastic bags, their contents laid strewn and torn across the street. "I dropped them while we were running, and I just wasn't thinking, a-and—"

"Dear, dear! Munny goes around, more days will come, and these items will be easily replaced. And now, if it weren't for your actions and quick thinking, I might not be standing here next to you, and certainly not in one piece." But the woman's thoughtful words failed to quell the lump that was forming in Kairi's throat.

"I was scared," she explained, her voice small. "There was nothing else we could do besides run away and hide." And it was all she had been doing since coming here, hadn't she? While Sora and Riku were out there, fending for themselves, fending for her, all she could do was stand and watch, worlds away from them.

"There, there, now." She felt the woman's soft fingertips delicately brush across her cheek, wiping away a single glistening tear.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again, blinking rather rapidly to clear her vision. Her hand was taken once more, enveloped firmly between the woman's pruney fingers.

"Tell me, what's really troubling you?" The woman's eyes peered back at her. Kairi hesitated before responding. This was a stranger, after all, and she had been strictly instructed to not divulge any information regarding the worlds' affairs to anyone. But...there was something about this woman that she couldn't quite put her finger on—a something that told her it might be all right to be just a little vulnerable with her.

"I just...wish I could have been stronger. So I could have protected th—you, back there." She then let out a contemplative sigh, brows furrowed the moment the words escaped her. "Sorry, that probably sounds ridiculous. After all, what could a kid like me do?"

"Oh, you'd be quite surprised." The woman appeared amused. "Come, let me tell you all about strength while we walk—a type of strength that doesn't require any muscle or stamina, but one that is far more valuable."

"Huh?" Kairi nearly caught herself from falling as the woman suddenly began to move, their hands still clasped together.

"Now, listen carefully to my words, dear, for the heart of a child exactly like yourself has the power to do the most incredible things." The woman began to relay what sounded like the start of a fairytale, and suddenly, Kairi was transported.

But the place she found herself in was no fantasy land. A musty green carpet shrouded the floors, countless books lined rows and rows of wooden shelves. Underneath the stairwell in the corner was a little nook with a desk covered in pages and pens. Her indigo eyes peered up curiously at the seated old woman, the hue of her irises matching her own. Her smile was kind, her voice soft as she relayed the familiar tale of the children whose light saved the worlds once before.

"So, listen child," the woman from the world of her origin called to her. "Even in the deepest darkness, there will always be a light to guide you. Believe in the light, and the darkness will never defeat you. Your heart will shine with its power and push the darkness away…"

"...Just as it did when you protected me with that fiery determination of yours, and as it always will when you wish to save the ones you cherish so deeply," the woman now holding her hand concluded.

The night sky blanketed them once more as Kairi found herself back in the present. Concrete replaced carpet, buildings stood in place of bookshelves, and the messy desk was transformed into the door of a tiny cottage. But the woman she now stood in front of, indigo eye to indigo eye…

Time seemed to stand still as Kairi's vision grew misty once again. "Y-you're…"

Her grandmother flashed her a knowing smile, her hand resting tenderly against Kairi's cheek. The once-unfamiliar touch now restored memories of long walks through abundant gardens, Kairi's small, soft hand clasped in the warm but sturdy grasp of hers as she begged to hear that same story over and over and over again. Sometimes the old woman would chuckle, other times she'd feign exhaustion, but in the end, she'd never refused her bright-eyed granddaughter's request.

"You and I have quite a bit of catching up to do, don't we, Kairi?" Her tone remained gentle, like the sea breeze that caressed her skin when she frolicked about with Sora and Riku along the island shores.

"You knew all along, didn't you?" She received a nod in response. "I…don't know what to say." And yet, there was so much she wanted, needed to tell her. About her home away from home, about the new friends she'd made, about her journey across the big sky—the very same one she swore existed all those days ago while her grandmother nodded along, amused by her spunk.

"Through all the adversity you've certainly faced," she began, as if answering the younger girl's discombobulated thoughts, "that light of yours shines even more brilliantly than I recalled."

"That's because I had an amazing teacher who always told me to believe in it," Kairi explained, lips lifting and heart swelling. "Thank you, Grandma." It was a lesson of love and light that she swore to herself she would never forget ever again.

But that promise would have to remain in her heart, unverbalized, as Kairi suddenly found herself standing empty-handed. Asphalt, buildings, and the woman who'd been standing before her crumbled into shards of sand that collected beneath her feet. A voice called her name, and from the distance in this strange new void, a familiar boy with spiky brown hair was running towards her.

#kairi #kingdom hearts #fanfiction #kingdom hearts fanfiction #kairi zine #fanzine #i was so overjoyed to be a participant in this project #aidjf;asdf the mod team was incredible T_T #as were the contributors #please support them all aisdjf;iasdf #blissfulnightrainwrites #bliss zines