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abused-sides · 3 years

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Way to Please

Read part one first, read on Ao3

Trigger warnings: Emotional abuse, gaslighting, being called selfish, ableism, familial abuse, panic attacks, touch-starved Logan, food mention

A/N: This is a commission! Another thanks to @darkle-elkrad!! :D More info at the end

Disclaimer: J. is NOT Janus, he’s an unsympathetic OC.

Read on Ao3

Logan pushed the knob on his fidget cube in slow circles. It was a simple toy, all black, and usually hidden in his pocket. He currently had it pressed between his thigh and the car door. His stomach was knotted and he stared out the window almost obsessively, counting every mile they got closer to his new school.

“You messing with that toy again?”

Logan looked at J. He shoved it in his pocket. “Sorry.”

“‘S fine. People are gonna make fun of you for being a baby, though.”

Logan’s face heated up. “I told you I won’t use it in front of other people.”

They pulled into the college’s parking lot. Logan’s small life was packed up neatly in the backseat. J. turned the car off and sighed.

“You sure you don’t need help moving in?” J. gave him a look. “You know how you can get.”

Logan nodded once. “I know. But I can control that. I can move in myself, don’t worry.”

hesitated, then sighed again. “Alright. Get out, then. Call me tonight.”

“Yeah. Love you.”

“Mhm.”

Logan stacked up his three boxes and started towards his dorm. Luckily, J. had taken a few weeks off his own education and brought Logan down for a tour last week, so he knew exactly where he was going. He managed all the way to his room and fumbled for the key card in his wallet.

He nearly dropped his boxes, and his heart leapt into his throat. He caught them just fine, but the panic remained, fizzling slowly like water down a stopped drain. His fingers itched for his cube. He ignored it, and got the door open just before the anxiety peaked.

One half of the room was already claimed, half unpacked suitcases sprawled over the bed and wardrobe, so Logan dumped his stuff on the second bed. He immediately righted the boxes and tossed some fallen items back inside. He glanced over his shoulder.

He was alone.

He shoved his hand in his pocket and found the side with the buttons, mashing them down before flipping it to switch. He click-click-clacked it a few times as the tension slipped from his chest.

He took a second to look around the room. His roommate’s life was coated in black and purple. Band tees stuck out of the half clothes drawer, notebook upon notebook littering his bed. He had a purple and black plaid quilt tossed over a gray weighted blanket. An expensive laptop sat freely on the desk.

“...oh, come on, you are such an asshole.” The door opened and closed, and a boy with purple hair came inside, holding a phone to his ear with his arms full of sodas and candy. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fuck you, too. Sure. Later. Love you.”

Logan blinked.

The boy dumped his food on his bed and shoved his phone in his pocket. He raised an eyebrow. “Uh, hi.”

Logan nodded. “Was that a… girlfriend?”

“Nah, my brother.” He turned back to line his drinks on the shared desk. “I’m Virgil.”

“Logan.” He hesitated, then turned to his own bed, pulling out neatly rolled up clothes.

“I hope you don’t mind that I already picked my side.” Virgil grabbed another armful of clothes and went over to the wardrobe, punching down the fabric until he could layer more inside.

Logan couldn’t help but say, “You could fit more if you folded them.”

Virgil snorted. “There’s three other drawers. I’ll be fine.”

“Right.” His face flushed. “Sorry.”

Logan hung his clothes in the closet. They unpacked silently. Logan occasionally tapped his pocket, just to make sure his cube was still there.

Virgil sat at the edge of his bed and held out his hand. “Let me see your class schedule?”

Logan startled, then fumbled for his backpack. “Right— Uh, sorry, one second.”

He found it while Virgil watched with raised eyebrows. He handed it over. Virgil hummed, gray eyes trailing over the paper. He really was striking. He was loud in a way Logan never wanted to be, but Virgil didn’t seem upset by it. It was all clearly a choice, from the way he dressed to how he styled his hair. He lounged on his bed, taking up all the space without taking his combat boots off first, chewing on his nails— likely while the nail polish was chipped.

Nail polish. His middle fingers were painted black, the rest a strong purple. How did he have the confidence to wear nail polish? If Logan tried that, J. would make fun of him until he cried.

“We have some Gen-Eds together,” Virgil mused. “And an art class. How long have you been drawing?”

Logan swallowed and sat on his bed. It was clear Virgil wasn’t handing the schedule back any time soon. “Not long. I just picked it up last year, actually. It sounded, I don’t know, relaxing.”

Virgil grinned and glanced at him. “It’s frustrating, isn’t it?”

“It’s… hard. Harder than I expected.”

“Can I see?”

Logan hesitated. He reached for the box with his sketchbook, but Virgil held his hand up.

“It’s okay. No need to look so panicked.” He chuckled. “I’ll just look later. I was going to go look around campus, make sure I know where all my classes are. Wanna come with? We can check the Gen-Eds.”

Logan really didn’t want to— he knew where his classes were, and he planned on finding good spots for his stuff —but he nodded and stood. He glanced at Virgil’s bed, where he laid on top of all of his stuff. A few things crumpled and crunched as he rolled onto his feet.

“Cool.” He grabbed a Monster off the desk and popped it open. “Let’s go.”

Virgil wasn’t actually as loud as he looked. He had the confidence down, and he teased Logan quite a bit, but he was very… calm. Logan would never admit it out loud, but he was jealous. He could never be that sure of himself.

After finding their Gen-Eds, they agreed to stick together to find their other classes as well. Logan admitted to having already visited his— Virgil laughed —so they set off to find Virgil’s.

Once they got to the last class on the list, Virgil stopped. “Shit,” he whispered. “Oh, shit.”

Logan frowned. “What is it?”

The wind blew through Virgil’s bangs, revealing wide, anxiety-filled eyes. The courtyard was mostly empty, the occasional student passing by a couple dozen feet away.

“They put me in the wrong class.” Virgil pushed his hair back and drew in a shaky breath. “We agreed I’d be in the morning class, I— I can’t make this one, I don’t know— fuck.”

“Hey.” Logan took a small step closer. “Hey, it’s okay. We can just go talk to someone, right?”

Virgil shook his head quickly. His breathing was speeding up. “No, are you kidding? They’re probably so busy, this is stupid. I just— fuck, I’ll have to make it work.”

“Virgil, no.” Logan laughed weakly. “No, come on, we can fix this. Breathe, right?”

“‘Breathe—’ Right, fuck, I’m not… I’m not breathing.”

Logan held his hands out, and Virgil scrambled to take them. Logan held them tight. “Uh, just follow my breathing.”

Logan helped him right himself, a few tears slipping out from Virgil’s eyes, but he mostly got himself back together pretty fast.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Virgil gave Logan their schedules and pushed his sweaty palms down his pants. He wiped his face. “Sorry, that was… stupid.” He fiddled with the zipper on his hoodie.

“No, it wasn’t. I… uh, here.” Logan hesitated, then found his fidget cube and pressed it into Virgil’s hand.

Virgil looked at it in surprise. His fingers naturally found the side with the buttons, click-click-clicking. “Oh. Thanks. I had one of these last year but I lost it.”

Logan blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’ll give it back though, don’t worry.”

“Let’s go talk to the registrar. We can tell them your schedule is conflicting.”

Virgil stared at the cube. He flicked the dial a few times, listening to the light crank as it snapped back. “Are you sure?” He mumbled.

Logan forced a smile against his nerves. “Of course. Better to do it now then wait until it’s worse.”

“That’s true. Okay.” He laughed weakly and straightened his shirt out. “Right, you’re right. Sorry about this.”

“It’s fine,” Logan promised.

Logan walked with him down to the registrar's office and it ended up being an easy fix. Virgil walked out while rolling his eyes.

“I can’t believe that gave me a panic attack. Shit, I’ve had panic attacks over some dumb things, but… wow.”

Logan laughed. “It’s a… big day. Don’t worry about it. I, uh… I had a couple today, too.”

“Well, panic attacks make me hungry. Do you want to go grab something to eat?”

Logan nodded. “Sure.”

They stopped outside their dorm building. Virgil texted for a moment, then said, “I have a car we can borrow. Come on.”

They found a silver truck in the Junior’s parking lot. Virgil pulled the keys out of his pocket. “It’s my brother’s,” he said. “I’ve got a spare key.”

“Your brother sounds cool.” Logan climbed into the passenger side.

It was a very tall truck. His face heated up as he struggled a little to get inside.

“He’s an asshole,” Virgil laughed. “What do you want to eat?”

“Uh—” Logan’s mind blanked. “Um… I don’t— I don’t know, what do you want?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Um… Okay, well, I know a Chinese place close by that’s good. We can grab one to bring back?”

Logan nodded and relaxed into his seat. “Yeah. That’s good.”

Virgil pulled out of the parking lot. They took their food to go, Logan managing to find a kosher option fairly easily, and ate while flipping through Netflix. They found a show they’d both been wanting to watch and got stuck on it easily. They ended up watching the entire first season, only stopping to break open Virgil’s collection of snacks.

Logan went to bed that night, later than he ever had, feeling better than he ever had.

xxx

“Hey, I’m going to see my brother. Want to come?”

Logan looked up from his homework in surprise. “Um… sure?”

Virgil had been acting weird lately. He invited him to go somewhere or do something every day. If Logan showed the slightest bit of hesitation, he backed off, but there he was again the next day. If Logan did hesitate, Virgil wouldn’t let him go back on it. Logan didn’t understand it.

He’d also started acting more nervous around Logan. Less sure of himself. Logan worried he did something. But if he did, there’s no way Virgil would want him to meet his brother, would he?

He settled his homework neatly back inside his binder and checked a few things off his planner before grabbing his phone and wallet. He followed Virgil outside, where the streetlights glowed warmly against the dark sky, and across the courtyard. The Junior dorm buildings looked identical to the Freshmen’s, only a bit bigger. Inside, their lobby was much more taken care of, and looked more like a gameroom than anything. Groups of students sat with decks of cards, at vending machines, at pool tables. Instead of heading up to the dorms, Virgil led Logan to a small group of kids settled in bean bag chairs.

A boy with striking similarities to Virgil— all angles and bones, the same gray eyes —sat with another boy, covered in freckles, settled in his lap.

“Hey, Jan. Hey, Patton.” Virgil placed a light hand on Logan’s shoulder. The touch burned through his shirt, and Logan nearly sucked in a breath. “This is Logan, he’s my roommate.”

“Wow, you’re getting along with your roommate?” Janus asked in surprise. “I guess I owe Patton ten bucks.”

“You do not!” Patton rolled his eyes with a smile. “We did not make a bet, Virgil. He’s doing his thing.”

“I know,” Virgil laughed.

He pulled the last free bean bag chair towards them and yanked Logan down with him. Their sides pressed together, the bag molding them against each other, Logan couldn’t breathe. He managed to settle himself on the edge of the chair. His side was cold as ice, his heart racing. Virgil gave him a weird look before shoving it off and looking back to Janus.

Logan thought briefly when the last time he had a hug was. Surely not that long ago, right? Parents hugged their children all the time. But he couldn’t quite recall. If he’d been hugged recently, would he still have the strong urge to reach out and feel Virgil’s hair? To take his hand and trace Virgil’s fingers? To feel Virgil’s palm against his face?

Logan’s face flushed. Stop acting creepy.

“What are we playing?” Virgil asked.

Virgil helped him through the card game. It became obvious towards the third round that Janus was cheating, mostly because Patton scolded him loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Wait, he’s been cheating?” Virgil threw his cards down dramatically. “You bitch!”

Janus laughed as Virgil kicked the cards at him. Logan tensed.

“Stop fighting!” Patton sighed, but he was smiling. Why was he smiling? He batted his eyelashes at Janus. “Baby, buy me a snack?”

Janus picked Patton up, stood, then tossed Patton into the bean bag chair. He squealed.

“Don’t use that voice on me.” Janus leaned down and kissed him softly. “Totally unfair.”

“Oh, is it?”

They mumbled together for a moment between kisses. Logan was certain his face had never been so red. Virgil picked up a card and flung it at them.

“Gross! I don’t want to see my brother make out with anyone!”

Janus snorted as he pulled away and found his wallet. “That’s just because you’ve never made out with anyone.”

Virgil’s ears turned red. “That’s not true! Gah!”

Janus left to the vending machine, and Patton relaxed into the chair with a wide grin. “So Logan, what are you studying?”

“Physics,” he mumbled. “Are you two okay?”

Virgil looked at him in surprise. “Me and Janus?”

Logan nodded.

“Uh, yeah? Why?”

“You guys were fighting?”

Patton giggled while Virgil raised an eyebrow. “We weren’t fighting, we were joking. You don’t have brothers?”

“No, I have one. He’s two years older than me.”

“Alright… what’s his name? Maybe Janus knows him.”

“He doesn’t go to this school.” Logan found his fidget cube in his pocket and rolled his thumb around the metal ball. “He’s at a college in our hometown.”

“You moved away for college?” Patton asked in surprise.

“What’s going on?” Janus dropped into Patton’s lap and pressed several packets of gummies into his palm with a kiss to his cheek.

“Logan went to college out of state to get away from his brother,” Virgil said.

Logan’s eyes widened. “That’s not true!”

Virgil bumped their shoulders together.

“If Virgil tried going to college out of state without a good reason, I’d kill him.” Janus pulled Patton closer. “Seriously. I’d be worried out of my mind.”

“You don’t…” Logan hated to confirm Virgil’s suspicion, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “you don’t need, like, a break?”

Everyone stared at him.

“No,” Janus said flatly. “No, I actually love my brother.”

“Gross,” Virgil mumbled, but his ears were red again.

“I love my brother,” Logan insisted.

“Oh, we don’t doubt that.”

“I just— I don’t know. You guys were fighting yesterday morning, too.”

Virgil stared at him in confusion, until it clicked. He laughed. “You mean when I was on the phone? Lo, he called me a coffee gremlin so I told him to fuck off. It wasn’t a fight. We were just messing with each other.”

Heat steadily climbed up Logan’s neck. He closed his hand around his cube until it hurt. He wanted to curl in on himself, escape the conversation, and never see any of them again.

“What the hell does your brother call you?” Janus asked.

“It’s not a big deal,” Logan said weakly. “We’re just— we’re not as close as you, I guess.”

“Logan, it’s okay,” Patton said softly, face pinched with worry. “You can talk about it. No one’s here to judge you, we’re not trying to force you to be grateful for your family or anything.”

Janus squeezed Patton’s shoulder. “Yeah, we know about shitty families, if that’s what this is.”

“And that’s the vibe I’m getting,” Virgil added. “The shit Janus calls me doesn’t bother me. I tell him if he says something fucked up. What does your brother do?”

“I— I don’t know, I don’t know.” Logan pushed his sweaty palms against his jeans. “He just… gets mad sometimes. You know?”

“No,” Virgil said flatly. “What does he do when he’s mad?”

“He just… gets mad.” Logan’s voice trembled. He didn’t know how to get out of this. He made a big deal out of it, something that so clearly wasn’t a big deal, and now he was just stuck. “I guess he, I don’t know, he calls me selfish sometimes.”

“Like when?” Patton asked. He’d leaned forward, hands clasped between his knees, brows knitted.

Logan stuttered through a few stories off the top of his head. He’d tried to tell them in a casual way, insist that it wasn’t a big deal and he was fine, but everyone was so… concerned. Virgil’s fists clenched around his hoodie, Janus’ eyes narrowed. Logan ducked his head. He was shaking.

He scrambled to his feet. “I’m sorry, I think I— I think I need to go.”

“Logan,” Virgil sighed. “We can stop talking about it, but come on. You can’t like the way he treats you.”

“Does it matter?”

Everyone paused. Logan pressed a hand to his forehead.

“No,” Janus’ voice dripped with sarcasm, “of course not. People can just do whatever they want to you with no consequences.” He waved his hand. “Who cares, right?”

Logan froze up. His muscles were pulled taut, eyes squeezed shut, his body wilting like a dead flower.

“Janus,” Patton scolded.

He sighed. “Sorry. Look, of course it matters. Come on, sit down. Everything is fine.”

Logan didn’t believe that. But he sat anyway. He answered their questions. He explained everything as honestly as he could.

Part of him wanted to defend J., to insist that it really wasn’t that bad and J. loved him. But Logan wasn’t sure if J. did love him. He’d heard how Virgil talked about Janus, and there wasn’t a doubt in Logan’s mind that J. would never talk about him that way. He’d seen how Janus looked at Virgil, sometimes angry but usually in a protective way. It wasn’t like anything Logan had seen from J.

Hearing them throw around the words ‘abusive,’ ‘manipulative,’ and even ‘gaslighting,’ was hard. Logan jammed the joystick on his fidget cube around so much he almost broke it, bouncing his leg up and down, eventually having to get up and pace. He kept waiting for the snapping, for everyone to tell him how annoying he was being and that he needed to sit and be quiet. They didn’t.

It was almost uncomfortable.

The conversation eventually moved— Logan was simultaneously relieved and disappointed —but everyone looked at him different after that. Before Virgil and Logan went back to their room, Patton offered a hug. Logan hesitated, and was about to step into Patton’s arms, when Virgil grabbed his shoulder— just long enough to make him pause.

“You don’t have to say yes,” he said flatly.

Patton’s eyes widened. “Oh, gosh! Right! Of course not. Sorry, Logan.”

Logan cleared his throat. “It’s okay.”

On the walk back, Virgil said, “We’re going to have to work on that.”

Logan shoved his hands in his pockets. With Fall kicking in full force, it was freezing outside at night, their breath coming out as fog.

“Work on what?” He mumbled. His body was heavy, eyes lidded.

“Your whole people pleaser bullshit. You don’t have to say yes to everything. It’s okay to not want to do something.”

Logan swallowed. He shrugged.

Virgil stepped in front of Logan and crossed his arms. “We need to set some boundaries, or else I can’t be friends with you. I’m not going to hurt you because you won’t communicate. I won’t be like J.” Virgil stared for a moment, eyes swiping over Logan’s face. His eyes softened. “I won’t be mad. You’re just going to have to trust me on that.”

“I don’t…” Logan’s heart thumped in his ears. He pressed his thumb against the buttons of his cube. “I don’t really… I don’t know how to handle being touched.”

Virgil’s eyebrows raised. “Oh? I mean, okay. So don’t touch you, then?”

“Maybe, just… I don’t know, not that often?” Logan bounced on the balls of his feet. The cold had wormed its way into his bones, and he felt like if he didn’t move he’d either go crazy or freeze to death.

“Come on, let’s get inside.” Virgil nodded towards the door.

They didn’t talk until they were settled into their beds and the lights were off.

“Thanks for telling me,” Virgil said. “I’ll talk to the others, too. You can always reach out if you want.”

Logan’s eyes watered. He was grateful for the dark. “Yeah,” he whispered.

“Goodnight, Lo.”

“Goodnight, Virgil.”

xxx

Virgil and Logan laid on their stomachs, on the floor. Notebooks and textbooks were spread out in front of them, covered in highlighter and pen.

It was a few months after Logan had confessed about J., and a few things were becoming apparent. 1) Virgil was not giving up on him. Neither were Janus or Patton.

2) J. probably, almost definitely, did not love Logan.

Every day it was becoming more and more clear.

Logan had never been treated the way Virgil and his friends treated him. Sometimes they argued, sometimes Logan was so frustrated and confused he wanted to cry, but they never made him feel like he wasn’t important. Every fight was important. And for the first time, he was able to move on from them. Even when things weren’t quite resolved, even when there was still more to talk about— that didn’t stop Virgil from inviting him out to dinner, from joining him to study, for putting on a bad horror movie.

“Alright,” Virgil sighed, pushing the textbook away and burying his face in his arms. His voice came out muffled, “if I look at American History anymore I’m going to die. What next?”

“Uh…” Logan cleared his throat and looked at their stack of remaining textbooks.

Semester finals were coming up in the next month and Logan was severely behind in Calculus.

“I don’t— I don’t know, what do you want to do next?”

Virgil picked his head up sluggishly. He blinked at Logan for a second, hair mussed, wrinkles under his eyes. He grabbed their stack of textbooks and dragged it closer.

He hummed as he looked through it, then pulled the Calculus and Economics textbooks. He shoved the others away. “Which one?”

“Um…”

“Come on, I’m good with either. Which one?”

Logan hesitated, then pushed away the Economics book.

“Cool.” Virgil flipped the textbook open. “Come on, I want to get this done.”

Logan flushed. He scrambled to find his notebook and flashcards, struggling to focus. A sturdy feeling of control settled over Logan’s bones, something he didn’t think he’d ever felt before.

xxx

“Almost ready to go?”

“Uh, yeah, just let me—”

Logan yanked the blanket down his bed, then pushed aside his pillow. He relaxed and snatched his fidget cube, shoving it in his pocket.

“Okay.” He straightened up. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

They left their dorm and headed downstairs. They’d planned to meet Janus and Patton in the parking lot so they could all go to this arcade nearby. Janus had jokingly (jokingly?) called it a double date.

“Yeah, there’s this zombie game you’d really like,” Virgil rambled as they stepped outside. He immediately tensed against the cold and stepped closer to Logan. Logan shuffled against him, their shared body heat negligible.

The parking lot appeared ahead and Logan stopped.

“Lo?” Virgil frowned. “What’s up?”

got out of his car and grinned as his eyes landed on Logan. He waved.

“Um…” Shit. “I— I don’t know, uh—”

“Logan!”

Virgil looked over his shoulder as J. headed towards them. His face darkened. “Is that J.?”

“Yeah.”

“Hey!” J. stopped in front of them and grinned. “Surprise. Come on, let’s go grab dinner. Who’s this?”

“Virgil.” Logan stepped closer. “My roommate, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. Well anyway, let’s go.”

“Actually,” Virgil said in annoyance, “we had plans. Maybe you can call ahead next time.”

quirked an eyebrow. Logan’s blood ran cold as J.’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll have to reschedule. He’s my little brother, I’m sure you can find someone else to drag along.”

Virgil scoffed and glanced back at Logan, then stopped. “You’re not really considering this, are you?”

Logan looked between them, helpless. He was terrified of upsetting either of them, but there was no way to please both of them.

“I— I don’t know. J., we had plans,” he said quietly.

“You can reschedule.” J. grabbed Logan’s arm and pulled him closer. “I haven’t seen you in forever, don’t be selfish.”

“You don’t have to do what he wants,” Virgil insisted. His eyes were on J., face scrunched in a glower.

“What’s up with you?” J. asked in frustration. “You’re acting like it’s a crime to take my little brother to dinner. Just lay off, will you?”

He stormed away, dragging Logan behind him. Virgil huffed. His footsteps echoed away.

Please don’t be mad.

Logan forced himself through dinner. The entire night crawled by, full of passive aggressive comments and insults Logan had forgotten how much he hated. He didn’t understand why J. came all the way down here just to ridicule him. Couldn’t he do that over text like he usually did? Didn’t he catch on to why Logan stopped answering?

After J. drove him back to campus, way after nightfall, he grabbed Logan’s arm before he could escape. “We need to talk.”

Logan shoved his hand in his pocket. He flicked the switch, over and over, click-click-click—

“Will you stop playing with that fuckin’ toy? I’m being serious.”

“It calms me down,” Logan mumbled, pulling his hand out. “Sorry.”

“I don’t like Virgil,” he said flatly. “I don’t like how he treats you and honestly he’s fucking rude. You’ve been pulling away. Mom and Dad haven’t heard from you in months. I haven’t heard from you in longer. That’s not fair to us just because you have this new friend.”

Logan stared. What the hell was he supposed to say? I like how Virgil treats me a whole fuckton more than you do. He couldn’t say that. Even if he wanted to, which he wasn’t sure he did.

“I’ll talk to him about it,” he lied.

“Talk to—” J. barked a laugh, “no, ask for a new roommate. I don’t want you talking to him at all anymore, okay?”

Logan swallowed. “He’s my best friend.”

“That’s a problem. He’s not good for you.”

He pulled on the door handle a few times. “Can I go? I get it, I’m sorry.”

“You clearly don’t get it. If you did—”

Logan pulled on the handle a few more times as J. droned on. His body was lighter, his head foggy. He could see himself tugging, tugging, could watch J. getting angrier and barely made out his mouth forming the words ‘stop with the fucking door.’

Then he was outside.

peeled out of the parking lot, tired squeaking over the pavement, and Logan hurried to his dorm.

Virgil paused the T.V. as Logan got inside. He panted, chest heaving. Did he run? He didn’t remember.

“Logan?” Virgil stood. “Hey, what’s going on? What’d he do? Did he say something?” He hurried over.

Logan stumbled through the story. Virgil’s glare deepened with each word, and every time Logan tried to make it better, Virgil just got angrier.

“Stop apologizing,” he snapped. “Come here, you need to sit down.”

He held out his hand, and Logan hesitated, before taking it. As Virgil led him to the bed, Logan focused on the texture— soft and cold. The pad of Virgil’s thumb was pressed against Logan’s palm. He craved more and he wanted to rip his hand away.

Virgil sat Logan down, then took his back back and knelt down. “Where’s your cube?”

Logan shook his head.

Virgil glared. “Did he take it?”

“No! I just— I don’t need it.”

“You clearly do. Come on, have I ever made fun of you for that?”

Logan hesitated, then fumbled to get it out. Click-click-click. Click-clack-click-click.

“Come on, follow my breathing. It’s okay. We’re going to figure this out. You don’t need him. It’s alright.”

Virgil slowly got Logan back in his body. His breathing became his again, and he was reminded of where he was. He gripped the covers, rubbing his fingers over the plush.

“I’m sorry,” he managed. He still panted a little, his head light.

“Sit here. I’m gonna grab some water.”

Virgil came back and sat next to him. He handed Logan the water, who gulped it down. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was. Virgil took the glass back, their fingers brushing, and set it on the desk.

“I don’t think you should talk to him anymore.”

Logan flinched.

“I know. I know it’s confusing. It’s your decision. If you want to stay in contact with him for a little longer, I’m not going to hold that against you.”

Logan looked up in surprise. “What? But you want—”

“It’s not my life. I think he’s an asshole and I don’t think he deserves you, but I’m not going to make choices for you. Not these.”

Logan’s eyes watered. He looked away.

Virgil sighed. “You don’t have to do that. I won’t make fun of you.”

He buried his face in his hands as his body shook.

Virgil cleared his throat. “Usually when Patton cries, he wants hugs, I don’t… um… what do you need?”

“What?” Logan’s voice cracked, and Virgil repeated himself. “A blanket?”

Virgil reached around and pulled the blanket around Logan’s shoulders. He whispered “One second,” and rushed over to his bed. He dragged his weighted blanket over and settled that around Logan’s shoulders, too.

Logan got his tears out while Virgil refilled his water. He took it with clammy hands, wiping his nose. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

“You should get some sleep.”

Logan nodded. He started to take off the weighted blanket, but Virgil held his hand up. “It’s alright. Keep it tonight.”

Logan hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t.”

He swallowed. “Thank you. I— thank you.”

Virgil smiled awkwardly. “Get some sleep.”

Logan settled into bed as Virgil turned the lights off. He brought the weighted blanket up to his nose, eyelids fluttering closed. It smelled like Virgil. It was warm.

Logan was safe.

xxx

Over the rest of the school year, Logan slowly worked at cutting off his parents and J. Virgil helped him, even through the hiccups. There was a moment Logan thought he could fix things, that he and J. could reconcile— then J. gaslit him and Logan almost switched colleges. Virgil made it clear what J. was doing, and Logan hadn’t spoken to J. since.

The two eventually agreed to get an apartment together after college. Logan got a part time job to keep his mind busy, and he barely had any free time between that and the studying, but he spent most of it with Virgil.

“And how satisfied were you with your roommate this year?” The registrar asked as Logan sat in the oversized armchair.

“Um, he was good. I liked my roommate.”

“Would you like to continue rooming with him next year?”

She barely finished speaking before Logan blurted out a ‘yes.’ She laughed and noted it down. Logan met Virgil outside afterwards, and they headed towards the Junior parking lot.

“You said yes to rooming next year, right?” Virgil asked.

Logan nodded. “Yeah. You?”

“Nah, didn’t feel like it.” He smiled. “‘Course I did. You can’t get rid of me.”

Logan laughed. “What do you want to eat?”

“I think I’m gonna force Janus to buy me a pizza.”

He wrinkled his nose.

Virgil snorted. “What, you don’t want pizza?”

“That pizzeria you like is disgusting.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Come on, we eat there too much. Can’t we get something else?”

Virgil pretended to think about it for a moment, before rolling his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. You can pick this time. I’ll tell Janus and Patton to deal with it.”

Logan grinned. They made it to the parking lot and piled into Janus’ truck. Logan told them what they were eating for dinner, and as Janus headed that way, Virgil nudged Logan with his elbow.

“I’m proud of you,” he murmured.

Patton had turned the radio on. Pop music blared through the speakers, but Logan could hear perfectly with Virgil’s mouth close to his ear. Not enough to touch. Just close.

Logan flushed. “For what?”

“You’ve come a long way this year.”

“But I still—”

“Shh. Not focusing on that right now. I’m proud of you.”

Logan’s stomach filled with butterflies. Virgil pulled away with a grin, then yelled something at Janus, who flicked him off.

Logan settled back with a smile.

reblogs > likes

Here’s my commission info! You can do a whole fic like this if you’d like but there’s also super cheap ficlets and drabbles, so if you like this, maybe consider throwing me a few bucks :D

#logan sanders #sanders sides #analogical #virgil sanders #janus sanders #logan centric #logan #virgil #janus #hurt/comfort #angst #angst with a happy ending #fic

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sisterofleatherfrog · 3 years

Text

Star Wars Kinktober day- 1

Prompt: Symbolic jewelry

Sub! Tup x Female (AFAB) OC

Hello! Willkommen to the grand opening of me doing Kinktober (even if this post is a few hours late for the actual 1st 😅)! Here is my prompt list derived from Kinktober lists by @ink-and-flame. Their prompt lists are phenomenal, but for the sake of my ADHD I had to whittle it down into a more finite list of interests that I am comfortable writing and know at least a little about it, or else I’ll just get lost in the sauce of prompts! But seriously, go check out their lists, they’re incredibly varied and have something for everyone!

And now without further ado:

Tags: some drinking, sub male, femdom, nudity, almost pussy eating (working up to it in part 2!), pussy worship, praise kink, worship kink (is that a thing?), there’s no sex in this fic it’s just the lead up (she is spoicy tho)

Words: 1609

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Under his shirt, the chain and pendant Tup wore brushed cooly against his chest. As unpleasant as the gooseflesh it raised was, the reminder it gave him was anything but.

From the moment he’d awoke that morning, wrapped in arms as pale as the thin sunlight at that hour, he knew what he wanted and began to get ready. A few kisses pecked around his groggy girlfriend, Aurelie’s, face placated her awakening at his rising and he moved to her dressing table to grab the aforementioned necklace. If she wasn’t interested in playing, it would have been put away the night before in it’s felt case, but this morning he plucked it from it’s customary open place before the mirror.

Catching the morning bus he felt it leap and jump with the rhythm of the air vehicle as the pilot navigated Coruscant air-traffic. After the war ended and the clones were given their freedom, sentient rights, and a hell of a lot of backpay, there were questions of what was to be done with them. As it turned out, there wasn’t such a mass exodus from the GAR as previously thought there would be, though many opted to retire from combat positions. Tup chose to oversee the supply requisition and organization for the newly formed Search & Rescue Ops, a subsidiary of the Disaster Relief Squadron, helping places around the galaxy affected by natural disasters. It felt meaningful and good, and he could honestly say he didn’t miss having to carry a gun and constantly keep an eye out for clankers.

After a day of approving supply drops, running reports, and the pendant lightly caressing his chest with every slight sway, he was back on the bus home. A man scowled at him from among the crowd; some people would never see the clones as anything more than meat-droids undeserving of even the life they were given, but the pendant mocked that man’s ideas from behind Tup’s shirt. It was a gift of love freely given to him and he was worthy,

When he returned to his apartment Aurelie was still at work, not getting off until late. As he waited for water to boil he straightened up around the place, clearing dust from the nooks it always returned to settle and gathered laundry. When he came to the bed in their room he came to a spot by the bed and stopped, considered, and opened a drawer to reveal a medium sized case which he deposited neatly on Aurelie’s side of the bed. He already had the necklace, it never hurt to be proactive in terms of their play.

Half an hour later dinner was had and a portion of it was squared away in the fridge with a reminder to reheat it and enjoy and Tup was ready to meet a few of the boys at 79’s. As he changed from his work wear into something light blue and more casual, the afternoon sun caught the silver pendant resting on the tan skin of his breast bone, dying it almost the same shade of pink- before he could finish that thought a beep from his comm sounded informing him that his taxi had arrived outside.

20 minutes, a few levels down, and a familiar neon sign later, Tup was walking into a familiar bar. Nothing had changed about the place, only now armour and dress greys were a rare sight to be seen as the open opportunity for individuality to flourish among the clones led to some, interesting, experiments in style. ‘Speaking of which,’ thought Tup as a discordant but jovial chorus of his name called him over to a table in the corner. Fives, Jesse, Kix, Rex, Waxer, Boil, Cody, and even Wolffe, to his surprise, sat there having already gotten a small headstart on happy hour. It wasn’t a full reunion, others still at work or spread across the galaxy exploring life, but it was always nice to see familiar faces.

They took their time and paced themselves drinking, it was still early and they didn’t have to run off in an hour to prepare for a campaign and weren’t shotgunning a train of shots to try and forget one. Some of them had to be able to operate tomorrow morning though and they parted as the night lowered it’s curtain over day; Jesse and Kix remained however to scope out some of the ladies coming in with the party crowds.

As good as the times spent together were, Tup silently willed the air-taxi to carry him away faster through the legendary Coruscant traffic and back home. He’d worn the necklace, the empty place it would otherwise occupy obvious, if she hadn’t noticed then she would certainly see the familiar box he’d left resting by her pillow. Stars he was ready, the anticipation had built all day, the secret only he kept feeding his need. He was thrumming for whatever Aurelie had to give him.

The taxi stopped and he cursed the second it took for the payment to transfer, the minute in the elevator, the short march down the hall, and the door code he had to spend time punching in-

The entry was dark with the exception of a string of pink fairy lights strung along the wall and leading around the corner to their room. He grinned and, remembering to turn back and lock the door when he was already halfway across the room, soon came to the closed panel that marked their space. He knocked, “May I come in mistress?”

“Enter, darling.” A high, breathy voice answered.

As the door opened Tup entered the threshold and lowered himself to his knees, his hands finding their place on his lap as he gazed upon the shining woman perched on the edge of their bed (somehow, someway, his girlfriend, a part of his brain never ceased obsessing). She regarded him warmly, “Have you been a good boy today Tup? You took your necklace and I really hope it didn’t make you do anything naughty.”

“I was very good, mistress, just for you.” His voice was breathy and quiet, he had been good, and he anticipated his reward. His eyes drank in the milky skin that clothed the leopardess in repose before him, partially obscured by the long, wavy strands of pearly blonde hair.

“Oh I know Tup, you’re such a good boy. You wake me up with kisses, make sure I have food to eat when I work late, and you were so considerate to get our box of toys out for me. I don’t know where to begin, but good boys deserve to be rewarded, isn’t that right my beautiful boy?”

Aurelie’s voice caressed his every synapse as he breathed in air that still held the trace of a burn from a heavy incense and he was already in a state. Her words of praise had passed straight down from his ears to his cock, bringing him to a full erection from the half mast he’d been sailing at since walking through the front door. “Yes, please mistress, yes.” If it sounded like he was begging, Tup didn’t care. Her soft thighs were resting atop one another, hiding from him what he’d been craving all day. Just one simple shift was all it would take to reveal to him where she was no doubt already soft, sweet, and wet.

Her legs uncrossed, but she stood instead of spreading wider and came to stand before him, her curl-crowned mound a tease before him that turned his need to a desperate clamour within him. He held still, eyes glued to hers as she leaned down to him and brought her pillowy lips to kiss him, one hand coming up to cradle his cheek and the other fiddles with his collar for the necklace she’d gifted him. His hands were curled hard on his lap, restraining himself from the urge to reach out and touch; being so, so good and waiting.

Drawing the pendant along the chain away from Tup’s racing heart, Aurelie held it between them and teased: “Is this what you want Tup? Do you want to eat my pussy until you’re begging for me to fuck you, until you cum in me? Or maybe I’ll ride that handsome face of yours all night and let you cum in my mouth while you’re hard at work.” Tup could only manage a tortured moan, the pictures being painted in his head making him dizzy. She lightly laughed and graciously accepted that as her answer, gently leading him across the floor as she walked backwards with the chain still in her hand, him crawling on all fours after her. When she returned to the bed she sat as he looked up at her with lust and adoration.

Still holding the pendant, she slowly drew her legs apart, raising one to rest on the bed so her pussy and the glorious pink of her vulva were wide open on display for Tup in his current position. Aurelie considered the pendant again for a moment. “I’m glad I found that artist, it’s a wonderful likeness, isn’t it darling?” From the petal-like folds of her labia minora to the majora that protected them and the unique hood that shadowed her marvelous clit, it couldn’t belong to anyone else. The highest honour Tup felt was being lucky enough to be the one person allowed to worship it.

“Stars yes, mistress!” He agreed emphatically and Aurelie laughed lightly again and let the necklace fall back into its place from her fingers.

“Well, come and get your reward Tup.” He gladly obliged.

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So yeah, Tup as a Sub wears a necklace of his girlfriend’s vulva when he really wants to be her good boy (; It also helps that it’s really pretty ✨👀✨

Also sorry if this is a little off, this wasn’t even alpha read, let alone beta read.

Aurelie is one of a few OC’s I’ve used in my daydreams, she may make another appearance in another story if I think she’ll fit! I may try and do some art too…

As for the boys at the bar, I came up with ideas for what they’re up to now and may either write other Kinktober stuff in this AU, or do some drabbles later (though I could include the Kinktober stuff in an AU drabble, right?). I didn’t include it in the story though because I felt like it would disturb the flow too much. I’ll probably detail the AU in another post if I do end up doing that.

Kinktober works so far

Masterlist

#kinktober #kinktober 2021 #star wars #the clone wars #sisterofleatherfrogwrites #tup #ct-5385 #clone trooper tup #minors dni #sw #tcw #sw tcw #the clone wars fic #tup x oc #please let me know if I've broken tense #I'm bad at catching that #but please be nice as I am but a delicate frög

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alirhi · 3 years

Text

working that muse to the bone while I've got her lol

Title: Winter's Frost Chapter: 16/? Fandom: MCU Rating: R to be on the safe side Pairing: Loki/Bucky Summary: Loki never told anyone the real reason he became so obsessed with Midgard. Much better to let them think he wanted to hurt his brother than draw their attention to the one thing in the universe that makes the God of Mischief truly vulnerable. WARNINGS: all of the emo! Reference to trauma Notes: I cried writing this. I hope that's an indication of quality and not just that I'm pathetic lmao

It had grown quite late. With Bucky sound asleep on the sofa, Eira still nestled safely in his arms and even Darcy retiring to bed some time ago, Loki was left alone with his brother. They'd moved to sit outside to avoid waking any of the house's slumbering occupants, both having changed into simple Midgardian-style clothing in the hopes of escaping any unwanted attention. Staring up at the clear black sky, they sat in almost companionable silence for a long moment; oddly, it was Loki who broke it first.

"Go on."

"Hm?"

He rolled his eyes and waved one hand with a flourish. "You've been nearly silent all evening. It must be tearing you apart not to be the center of attention; not to even speak. Get it out. All the judgement, the mocking, the condescension. Let's have it."

"Quite a story you told today."

"I haven't lied nor embellished a thing."

Chuckling, Thor held up his hand to forestall any further defensive jabs from his weary, stressed brother. "No, I know. For all your tricks in this life, you've rarely outright lied." He glanced back at the house, and the most remarkable look transformed his face; if Loki didn't know him better, he'd swear the oaf looked almost... empathetic. "Seeing you together, and hearing what he's been through-"

"Tip of the ice berg. I've seen the memories he hasn't yet regained access too. They're barbarous."

"No, I'm sure..." Turning a level, surprisingly gentle gaze on Loki, he told him, "None of that story was for my benefit, I know that. And I don't think there's a force in the universe that could make you lie to him."

Unable to bear sympathy from any member of the house of Odin, Loki turned back to the sky, pretending to be transfixed by the stars. "No. Even before they raped his mind for decades and scrambled his sense of reality, I'd have died before ever lying to him."

"Remarkable." Thor nudged him, and Loki could hear the smile in his voice. "The God of Mischief, in love! I never thought I'd see the day."

"That's because you haven't been paying attention."

"So you keep telling me."

With an exasperated sigh, he forced himself to look at his adoptive brother again. "Not once in over a thousand years have you ever bothered truly getting to know me. Don't presume now to know what's in my nature. You've only ever been wrong."

"Then tell me," Thor shot back, voice still soft but now with an edge to it that the Trickster couldn't quite identify. "How does this love story end?"

When did this moron learn to cut so deeply without benefit of a blade? Tense all over again, Loki turned away and stared at the dusty ground. "I don't know."

"You must have some idea of-"

"I can't see the future, Thor," he snapped. "I'm not a witch."

With the lightest of touches to his hand, Thor finished, "Of how you want it to end. I may not know you as well as I'd thought, brother, but I know enough. I know there's no way you grieved this man alone for fifty years and spent twenty driving yourself mad trying to rescue him, without a single thought to what might come next."

"I'd thought to bring him home to Asgard," Loki admitted with a shrug. "When I thought Asgard was home. Now... Frankly, Thor, I have no idea. Eira's birth and then being held hostage by Thanos on his deranged venture... I'm not even Aesir. Everything I'd once thought... It's all changed. My world wasn't simply turned upside down, it was taken from me. I feel I'm still spinning in the abyss with no hope of landing anywhere."

"That's the most I've ever heard you speak at one time." Thor glanced at the house again and snorted. "To me, anyway."

"Don't read too much into it. I've had no one but a baby and my captors to speak to for several years." That wasn't the true reason for his candor and they both knew it, but Loki hoped his brother would be merciful and not point out that his life and everything he held dear all depended partially on convincing Thor not to drag him back to Asgard in chains, nor reveal his location to Odin.

The Avengers, he felt he could avoid easily enough, but Odin and Thanos... They were the real danger to his little family. He knew he couldn't hide from either of them for long, not with a traumatized, amnesiac lover and a helpless baby to look after. Both Bucky and Eira needed stillness; they needed a place to stop and to orient themselves. Eira simply couldn't grow up on the run, and Bucky had seen too much upheaval in his life already, since long before the war and the draft.

It hit him all at once, then, and suddenly Loki was a child idolizing his strong, perfect brother again. For all that Thor had hurt and humiliated him, the realization that he was all Loki had left to lean on was hitting home.

For the first time in longer than he cared to calculate, Thor perceived his distress without him having to say a word. In an instant, the already small gap between them was closed and Loki was enfolded in his brother's abnormally large arms. That broke open the flood gate and shattered all his hard-won and carefully maintained control. Shaking violently with the force of his sobs, Loki clung to Thor with all his might, and somewhere under all the pain and fear and hopelessness, he felt a small, warm glow of gratitude for this thoughtless, stubborn meathead.

"I'm sorry." He was a bit surprised to note that Thor sounded as though he was crying, as well. "You're right, I never once really tried to understand you, and I'm so sorry!"

"None of you ever have," Loki choked out, trying desperately to get his emotions back under control. He'd been too stressed for too long; now that he had his first moment in years to breathe, to feel, it was all coming down on him at once. With a pitiful exhalation that was supposed to be a derisive laugh, he muttered, "At least now I know why I'm so different. Dress me up however you like, but a Jotun will never fit into a house full of Aesir."

"Loki, I don't care that you're a Frost Giant – I don't even care that you're the world's smallest Frost Giant." That got a half-hearted laugh out of him, but at least this one sounded like a laugh. He righted himself just in time to see the last traces of Thor's weak attempt at a teasing smile. "No matter where you've come from or what's gone wrong between us, you're my brother and I love you."

As he swiped furiously at his tears, Loki grumbled under his breath, "It is utterly humiliating how nice that is to hear."

"Face it, you're stuck with this 'big, dumb puppy' forever."

With a startled but finally sincere laugh, Loki nodded. "It would appear so. You're even more stubborn than your father."

"Our father."

"Oh, no. We're not there yet."

Thor grinned, nudging him again. "Alright, fair enough. He'd only muck things up, anyway, and you might lose your daughter."

"Unacceptable."

"I agree. So, we keep Father out of things until we can sort them out properly. That leaves only one other direction we can go in for help – and don't embrace the family stubbornness yourself, you know you need help."

"Don't say it." Loki cringed, covering his face with one hand. "Do not say The-"

"We need The Avengers."

"I should have just lit you on fire in Siberia!"

_____________________________________________________

Next Masterlist

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flawlesspeasant · 4 years

Note

Hi I don’t know if you take requests but I’ve been reading your stuff on ao3 and I’m actually obsessed with you so I figured it’s worth a shot. I see your writing more for faberry and I’m so glad so I was wondering if you could write something fluffy and cute about Rachel and Quinn meeting for the first time. It can be canon or AU I just want fluff!

hi, anon! i actually do take prompts and i’m sorry it took me so long to reply to this, but here you go:

rachel & quinn meet in the coffee shop that rachel works at, and rachel tries to get the courage to talk to the pretty girl who comes in every morning.

_____________

Quinn used the tips of her fingers to push her hair back as the wind blew and made loose strands of it fall in a curtain of golden blonde in front of her face. She spit a stray piece from her mouth, then used the rubber band on her wrist to tie it back. Coming to New York from Lima sure was different in more ways than one, but Quinn noticed that the biggest difference was the weather. In Lima, she was used to stepping out wearing a light jacket in the middle of September and possibly getting away with wearing open-toed sandals. In New York, however, she needed a fully buttoned up trenchcoat and possibly earmuffs.

“Thank you,” she politely mumbled to the woman who held the door open for her.

Head down as she thumbed through her wallet, Quinn stumbled through the door and left the bitter cold of outside in exchange for the toasty warmth of the coffee shop. She felt the heat hit her cheeks and it made a chill creep up her spine, but she sauntered over time the same spot she had stood in for the last two weeks. One thing about New York that she came to like was the routine she was beginning to settle into. Every morning before class, she’d wake up, get dressed, head to the coffee shop, then head down the block to her 10 a.m. It was a simple routine, but it was a routine nonetheless and for a girl who never had much consistency in her life, to Quinn, it was a big deal.

She slipped a twenty dollar bill from her wallet before stuffing it back into her purse, and lifted her head as she waited for someone to take her order. She wasn’t surprised when she saw the girl behind the counter wearing her usual bright red shirt with a gold apron and snapping the lid onto a glass blender. Her shirt was form-fitting and clinging to every curve, her blue jeans were neatly buckled around her waist, she wore clean white Vans, and her chocolate brown hair fell in gentle, silky locks to the middle of her back. She was the same worker that Quinn has seen for the past thirteen days on her morning coffee runs, so she figured she must work the morning shifts here.

Today was the day Quinn was going to look at her nametag, if she was wearing one.

Behind the counter, Rachel locked the lid on the blender and lazily pushed the button to chop up the ice she shoveled inside of it. Once the ice was completely crushed, she popped the cap off again and dumped the light brown mixture into a plastic cup. Like a perfectly trained robot, she snapped a lid on top, put a green straw through the hole, then picked up a Sharpie so she could scribble a name on it.

“Caramel delight, no whipped cream, shot of espresso.” She handed the man in front of Quinn the cup and gave him a friendly, strictly-business kind of smile. The man mumbled a quick “thank you” to Rachel, scooped his cup up, then headed for the door. Rachel sighed as she waited for her next customer to walk up.

As soon as she looked up and saw the girl next in line, she glanced at the digital clock on the register and grinned as she realized that she was right on time. Every day, for the past two weeks, this same girl came into the shop at precisely 9:22. It was 9:23 now, so she was about a minute late, but on time nonetheless. And though she didn’t have to because she had her order memorized, Rachel put a professional look on her face and opened her mouth to speak anyway.

“What can I get you?” She asked. Quinn tucked the pieces of her hair she missed in the ponytail behind her ears and opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Rachel spoke again. “Tall iced coffee, four creams, three sugars, extra ice, whipped cream and a mocha drizzle on top?”

Quinn stood with her arms folded neatly across her chest, the words she was going to speak frozen in her throat as they were stolen away from her. An innocent, slightly amused smile crept across her face and she tried to form a new sentence, but her eyes narrowed instead. For the first time in the thirteen mornings she spent at this coffee shop looking at this girl, she finally took a good look at her. And the good look made her cheeky grin turn genuine.

“Actually,” she laughed. “I want a caramel drizzle on top.”

“Oh!” Rachel raises her eyebrows and couldn’t help the way her teeth showed through her smile. “You’re changing it up on me?”

“I like to keep people guessing,” Quinn winked at her.

Rachel felt her heart thundering in her chest and anxiety starting to take over. She never planned on what to say to this girl when they had an actual conversation. She never thought she’d get this far. Too nervous to say much else, Rachel laughed and nodded her head just once.

“$3.36.” She held her hand out and let Quinn lay the money in her palm. She made Quinn’s change so quickly that she stumbled and dropped a penny, but she recovered without much embarrassment. “I’ll get that made for you.”

“Thank you,” Quinn nodded.

She carelessly stuffed her change into the bottom of her purse and walked down the waiting line even though she was the only person in line. She tilted her head and watched Rachel skillfully make her coffee without much thought. She wondered how long she had been working there to become so skilled.

In truth, Rachel had only been working at the coffee shop less than a month and she only did it as part of her work study program. It wasn’t long, but she was beginning to fall into her own routine. Even after just one week, she was so bored with her job that she, in fact, planned on putting in her two weeks’ notice and trying to find a job more interesting. That was three weeks ago, though. That was before a beautiful, blonde stranger with the most haunting hazel eyes and lustful full lips had wandered into the shop. If she had quit, she wasn’t sure if she would ever see her again… and that was enough to make her stay.

Rachel picked up the Sharpie again and took her time drawing on the side of Quinn’s cup. She turned back towards Quinn and handed her the cup. “There you are,” she said, taking an extra moment to admire the way her eyes looked emerald green under the right light.

“Thank you,” Quinn replied with contrived sweetness in her tone.

When she grabbed the cup from Rachel, her fingertips grazed the back of her hand and it almost felt as though she was electroshocked. Her eyes snapped up, she met Rachel’s, and decided to let her fingers linger for a few more moments. The chemistry felt like electric currents pulsating through both of their bodies. When their eyes met, the corners of Quinn’s lips turned up into a smile and though she didn’t want to, she slowly pulled her hand away so she wouldn’t be late for class.

“H-Have a nice day,” she stumbled over her words as she secured the coffee cup. She turned around to leave and took a deep breath when she did.

Rachel rested her elbows against the counter and watched Quinn walk away with a slight somberness to her mood. She enjoyed seeing Quinn; she always did. But just as much as she enjoyed seeing her come inside and hearing her voice every day, she also hated it. She knew that their interactions would be short and sweet and once she was gone, it’d be another 24 hours before she could see her again.

Rachel sighed and let her eyes roam Quinn as she walked out the door. She eyed the way her hair fell just a little past her shoulders and blew so gently in the wind that it reminded her of corn silk. She was thin, but her body had a womanly curvature to it and she liked the way she could see her thighs, muscular and meaty, from underneath her blue dress. She was arguably the most beautiful woman she had ever seen and she was stuck making her coffee.

She watched Quinn long enough to see her raise her coffee cup up to take a sip, and just as she began to turn around to go back to work, she heard her voice again.

“Hey!” Quinn walked briskly back to the counter and demanded Rachel’s attention as she held out her coffee cup.

Rachel stood up straight and waited to hear her complain about something, because that was usually the only reason customers ever came back. She raised her eyebrows to let Quinn know she was listening.

“What, did you memorize my order but not my name?” She held out her cup and motioned towards the black scribbles that’s we’re on the side. The scribbles were practically illegible, but Quinn was able to make out that it was a circle with five rays sprouting out the sides to make a sun. “You can memorize my entire order, but not five letters?”

Rachel grinned to admit the guilt of not writing her name on her cup, but not the guilt of forgetting her name. She hadn’t forgotten her name. She knew that her name was “Quinn.” She told her that on the first day she came into the shop and she had been holding onto it ever since, and she didn’t think Quinn noticed that for three days, she stopped writing Quinn’s name on her cups and started writing something new every day.

“I didn’t forget your name… Quinn.”

“So then why haven’t you used it?” Quinn took a sip of coffee and smiled so wide that Rachel caught a glimpse of her blindingly white teeth. “Yesterday it was crown, the day before that it was a smiley face, and now it’s a sun. Does my name change with your moods?”

“Something like that,” Rachel smiled back at her.

“So you draw pictures for all your customers?”

“Only the ones I like.”

“Oh…” Quinn raised her eyebrows. “So you like me? Is that why you’ve been calling me ‘sunshine’ and ‘smiley’?”

Rachel blushed, clearly embarrassed. “...So you’ve been able to decode my pictures and figure out the nicknames I give you…” Her eyes dropped away from Quinn’s. “I’m not as smart as I think I am.”

“Well,” Quinn couldn’t fight off the smile on her face. “I haven’t actually been able to decipher the crown you drew the other day. I don’t know what that one means.”

“That’s just one you’re gonna have to figure out on your own.” Rachel picked up a wet washcloth and began cleaning dried caramel from the counter. “Let me know when ya figure it out.”

“And how will I do that?” Quinn shifted her weight to her other leg and lifted her chin slightly, giving Rachel a challenging look. For the first time in a long time, she felt a flutter across her stomach and the overwhelming urge to smile.

“I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, won’t I?” Rachel stopped cleaning and looked at her again. “9:22 on the dot?”

“Something like that,” Quinn nodded in agreement. “See you tomorrow…” She hesitated a moment, squinting to look at the name on her name tag. “Rachel.”

“See you tomorrow.” Rachel nodded once and went back to her job of cleaning up the counters, satisfied with the fact that she spoke more than two words to her favorite customer.

It still wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to tell her that although she liked seeing her every morning, she’d much rather see her at night in a restaurant or a movie theater. She wanted to get to know her beyond the smiles that made her call her “smiley”, the brightness she brought to her day that made her call her “sunshine” and the beauty and poise that made her call her “princess.” She wanted more than that.

But she would take this conversation and savor it in hopes that tomorrow, she’d have the guts to progress a little further.

As Quinn walked back through the doors she entered through, she lifted her coffee cup again and admired the lopsided circle and squiggly lines that made the sun’s rays.

She couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning either.

#fanfiction #faberry #this is such a cute piece of shit #rachel x quinn

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emybain · 5 years

Text

Renegades Titanic AU: Part 4

sis may be sick posting this but I got a break today from the madness and I’ve been itching to post the next part since like Wednesday so here she is. I was going to write more but figured it would be better splitting up this part and the next part bc this would've been a lot longer since the next part will have a lot of stuff going on. also, go watch the hecking movie if you haven't already please I dont want to spoil but I also love this au and its my current obsession okay

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Part 4: The Next Day

Nova

“I’ve been on my own since I was six, when my family died.” Nova tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as the wind picked up. “Well, not technically on my own…” she trailed off, fixing her eyes on the horizon. She didn’t want to mention the other’s names, especially Ace’s, in front of Adrian, due to their circumstances.

“With the Anarchists?” Adrian piped up, looking down at her. They were strolling along the first class deck, Nova feeling out of place in her old shirt and hand-me-down suspenders among the beautifully dressed ladies. Adrian had sought her out that afternoon after lunch and invited her on a walk along the deck, to which Nova accepted, even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. Now, it was nearing late afternoon, and they had made a few laps around the ship.

Nova shot him a bewildered look, but laughed. “Anarchists? Is that what you call us?”

Adrian blushed. Nova bit her lip, ignoring how adorable he looked. “Um...yeah, I guess. Because of their crimes.” She noticed how he didn’t include her in with them. Huh.

Nova said nothing in reply, remaining silent. They stayed like that for a bit, until Nova forced herself to speak again. She was bothered by last night's events, and felt it necessary to address them properly.

“I want to thank you, Mr. Everhart-”

“Adrian,” he interrupted, before coughing awkwardly. “Sorry. But please, call me Adrian.”

“Adrian,” Nova nodded, his name feeling weird on her tongue, “thank you for saving me last night.” Nova looked down at her hands. “And also thank you for your discretion about what really happened.”

Adrian stopped, so she did as well. He turned to face her. “Of course, Miss McLain. If you don’t mind my asking, what made you think you had no choice?”

Now it was Nova’s turn to blush. She tore her eyes from Adrian’s, despite enjoying gazing up at them, and made her way to the railing overlooking the ocean. She turned back around and leaned against it, hugging herself.

“I know what you’re thinking.” She risked a glance up at him. His eyebrows were furrowed together. She looked back down. “How can someone who causes pain be in pain herself?” She laughed humorlessly.

Adrian took a hesitant step forward. “No, that’s not what I was thinking at all. And besides, you're not the one causing people pain. They are.” The way he said they, with so much hostility, sent a shiver down Nova’s spine. He had no idea just how much she had done, how much destruction and pain was on her hands. How Nightmare was the most wanted criminal in Europe.

Nova pursed her lips. Deep down she knew she shouldn’t open up to him; he was a stranger, one of them. But his eyes were so kind, so filled with concern. Surely, since he had kept her secret last night from everyone, he could keep another. It wasn’t like he would rush down to third class to tell Honey or Leroy or Ingrid, either.

Her arms tightened around her middle. “It’s just…” she swallowed. “It was everything, I suppose. And everyone. There’s this pressure to be what they want me to be, and-and I don’t know if I can do it. You know, not once have they asked me what I want. It’s always been about their needs and desires. I’m barely seventeen and it’s like the weight of the world has crashed down upon my shoulders and I’m powerless to lift it up.”

“That’s some serious stuff.” Adrian quirked his lips up, drawing Nova’s eyes to them. She looked away immediately. “That much stress would have dragged you to the bottom for sure.”

She knew he was trying to be lighthearted, possibly for her sake, but all she could do was hum in reply. “I have until this boat docks to figure out how I’m supposed to make them proud, but I’m frightened of failing.

“Do you care about them?”

Nova’s head shot up. “Pardon me?”

Adrian repeated the question, crossing his arms over his chest.

Nova blinked at him, stammering. “That’s...that’s very rude. Not exactly a question you should be asking me.”

Adrian shrugged. “It’s a simple question, Miss McLain. Do you care about them?”

She pushed herself away from the railing, a laugh bursting from her lips. “It’s an inappropriate question for someone of your rank and mine.”

“Why is it so hard to answer the question?” He smiled, but it was confused.

“We are not having this conversation,” Nova said firmly, looking around them as people passed. “You are rude and presumptuous, and now I’m leaving.” She reached out to shake his hand, which he accepted. “Adrian...Mr. Everhart, it’s been a pleasure.” Although her tone said otherwise. “I have thanked you, and-”

“Insulted me.” Adrian grinned. Nova’s teeth clenched. Of course he found it amusing. He would probably recount the whole conversation to his little friend group later. Nova knew she should have just kept her mouth shut. Now she was paying for it.

“You deserved it.” Nova looked down at the book-type thing he had been carrying around with him all afternoon, and frowned. She had noticed it earlier, but thought nothing of it. Now, though, she could see how he carried it close to him as if it were important. She let go of his hand, which she had still been shaking, and reached out for it, snatching it before he could pull back. “What is this stupid thing you’ve been carrying around, anyway?”

Adrian did nothing, said nothing, only watched calmly as she peeked inside at its contents. The outside was made of fine leather, soft against Nova’s hands. Her head tilted. “What are you, an artist?” Flipping through each page, Nova slowly made her way to one of the lounge chairs near her, sitting down. “These are rather good.” In her peripheral vision, she saw Adrian sit down next to her, watching her closely. Her cheeks reddened. “They’re very good, in fact. I didn’t know rich people could have talent.” Only a second later did she realize that that probably wasn’t the best thing she could have said. Now she was the rude one.

He drew a lot of people. She recognized some of his friends she had seen the night before, drawn quite often. She also recognized his parents. There were others, too. A mother with her child, children in a park with a dog. As she kept flipping, she noticed the same face of a young woman, who, unlike the others, was posing for her picture.

“You like this lady,” Nova observed, admiring every detail of the drawing she was currently viewing. “Were the two of you-”

“Oh, no.” Adrian chuckled nervously, and one peek at him confirmed he was blushing. Nova smiled. “She had beautiful hands, you see? He turned that paper over to another one, of the same lady, and pointed to her hands. “Also, she was around a lot when we were in Paris, the daughter of an old friend of my father. Very kind, but also very demanding about getting her portrait done.”

Nova hummed, the smile still resting on her face as she looked at Adrian. “You have a gift, Adrian. These are exquisite. You see people as they are, and not what they portray themselves to be.”

Adrian met her eyes, his own softening. “I see you, Miss McLain.”

Nova’s heart skipped. “A-and?”

“I don’t think you would have jumped last night.”

__________

They talked for a while after that, and Nova found herself enjoying the company of Adrian Everhart, son of her enemies. It wasn’t like talking to one of the others. No, he actually paid attention to her, hanging onto every syllable that came from her lips and never once interrupting. It had been so long since Nova had spoken to someone of her own age, but she also had a feeling she enjoyed talking to him for more reasons that just that.

She learned that he had travelled a lot when he was a child, before his mother passed away. And even when he was adopted, his dads took him everywhere with them. He, unlike her, had seen the world. He had even mentioned how he and his friends would often travel alone when they wanted to.

“I wish I could do that.” Nova sighed, gazing at the sunset before them. They were standing side by side at a railing, elbows barely brushing. “Just leave whenever I please without a care in the world.” Quietly, she added, “It must be nice having money.”

Adrian drew back slightly. “Actually, we try not to spend too much money when we travel, at least my friends and I do.” His cheeks reddened. “We only recently came into a great deal of money, and frankly, none of us are used to it.”

Clearly your parents are, Nova wanted to say, but she bit it back and swallowed it. As far as she could tell, Adrian was being honest, and he had seemed uncomfortable whenever she brought up the subject of wealth. Even the way he dressed, which was much more modest than the rest of the first class gentlemen, showed how he must not have liked his wealth.

“Say we travel somewhere together, even just in theory,” Nova mused, forcing a smile on her face. “Like, oh I don’t know, the beach.”

“That’s oddly specific.” Adrian’s grin returned, warming Nova inside. “Let’s do it.”

“Really?” Nova perked up, although she couldn’t quite place why.

“Yeah.” Adrian nodded specifically. “We can go with Oscar, Ruby, and Danna as well. You’d love them, trust me. They aren’t like the rest of first class. We’d go to one of those piers with rollercoasters, drink cheap beer, walk along the beach, watch the sunset...” He trailed off. Nova thought of his friends, who, like him, didn’t exactly fit the first class stereotype when it came to looks, based on what she had seen the previous night.

“I’d like that. Very much, in fact.” And she meant it. Never in her life had she been allowed to just have fun, to be young. It was always study more to outsmart the Renegades, train harder to beat them, do this and do that to be one step ahead of them with the promise of their downfall. Revenge, revenge, revenge, had been implanted into her mind since her family was murdered, and had been watered carefully by Ace and Phobia and Winston and Ingrid and Leroy and Honey over roughly ten years.

“Screw everything,” she blurted out suddenly. Adrian blinked, surprised. She looked at him, a new excitement blossoming in her chest. “This world is a mess. The people in it are a mess. Fuck all of it.”

Adrian looked like he was about to laugh, but he made a frantic shushing sound. “Lower your voice, people are looking.”

“I don’t care.” Nova smiled widely at the sunset. “Let them hear. Fuck. Everything.”

Behind them, someone cleared their throat. They both turned, and Nova’s eyes widened. It was the Council, and they didn’t look the least bit happy to see Nova with Adrian. Somehow, that made Nova happy. Not far behind them were Adrian’s friends, attempting to catch up once they saw Adrian.

“Dad, Pops.” Adrian’s voice suddenly took on a slight strain. “You remember Miss McLain from last night?” Both of his dads nodded and acknowledged Nova with the same iciness from the previous night. Adrian introduced her to the others, who were kind if only out of politeness. When she was introduced to his friends, however, she was greeted with real smiles.

The dinner bell rang then, and Nova was instantly reminded that she was to join all of them tonight. Fear erupted inside her.

Adrian seemed to remember as well. “We should go get ready, right, Father?” He walked over to Hugh Everhart and the others, then turned back to Nova. “I’ll see you at dinner, Miss McLain?” There was so much hope in his eyes that any excuse Nova was about to make up dissipated. She swallowed and nodded, watching as he walked away with his dads and the rest of the Council. His friends, however, stayed behind.

One of them, Danna, she remembered, snapped her fingers in front of Nova’s face, drawing her attention from Adrian’s retreating figure.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” Danna asked, concern in her eyes. Nova bit the inside of her cheek, suddenly losing her confidence she had previously had with Adrian. These were his friends, she reminded herself. She could trust them.

“Not really, Miss Bell.” Nova shook her head.

Danna’s lips quirked up. “It’s okay to call me Danna, you know. Miss Bell is a little too formal for my taste.”

“The same goes for me,” Ruby piped up, all smiles. “And I’m sure for Oscar as well.”

“Of course.” Oscar nodded. “Although, Mr. Silva does have a ring to it.”

“What are you planning on wearing?” Danna brought back the conversation to where it began. She looked Nova up and down, not out of distaste, but critically. When Nova gestured to what she was currently wearing, seeing as she had nothing better, Ruby shook her head.

“Oh, sweetheart, no, no, no.” She reached forward and touched Nova’s elbow lightly. Nova jumped from the contact. “You’re going to need something more than that.” Ruby shared a look with Danna, and then they both linked arms with Nova.

“C’mon.” Ruby pulled her along. “We’ll make sure you shine tonight.”

#renegades #archenemies #supernova #nova artino #Adrian everhart #Oscar silva #danna bell #ruby tucker #anarchists #my writing

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frangipanidownunder · 6 years

Note

#20 from the angst prompts?

Paradox: fic

20: “Notwith the person from the past in tow.”

Sorry it took a while to get to this. It’s a bit angsty, a little tiny bit NSFW but not too much and a little bit fluffy? Tagging @today-in-fic

It’s a paradox. That she’s more in love with him now thanshe has ever been. Than she should be. There’s a thesis there somewhere, shethinks, as she’s driving to the restaurant. Something about time dilation andvelocity. How he has propelled her forward and held her back. How he has beenboth a burden and a blessed relief.

She parks and wonders if this is the right move. Or if it’sjust an ill-considered attempt to recapture something from the past, like theX-Files. It’s not the same. It was never going to be the same. It should neverbe the same. Life’s journeys should look and feel different, even if they aretaken on the same path. You’re supposed to learn. Learn something.

It’s a paradox. She knows so much about him, but he’s alwaysa surprise. He’s holding a book in his hands, Stephen Hawking’s A Brief Historyof Time. It’s got a gaudy yellow bow tied around it. And under the ribbon istucked a slip of paper.

“You are now a paid-up member of the Book League ofBethesda. Two years, no less.”

“You bought me a membership to a club I don’t want to belongto.” His arrogance is not even arrogance, it’s just the way he is. His is aspecial brand that has no apt descriptor. Though she does imagine the Germanswould have a word for it.

He holds the door open as though his generosity counters hisego. It’s a paradox.

“You sound like Groucho Marx.” He is grinning. It softensher edges. Every damned time.

She slips past him and the Maitre’D leads the way. The book doesn’tfit on the beautifully-dressed table. She puts it on her lap.

“Their next reading book is Go Set a Watchman.” He is still grinning.She is still softening.

“Mulder, what sort of reading club leaps from an explorationof the structure of the universe to a novel of dubious provenance that isprobably just an early draft of the magnum opus of the author?”

“I don’t know, Scully, but I bought you a copy of A BriefHistory of Time because the one you left at our house got ripped to piecesduring the altercation with those Russians. It’s not on the Book League ofBethesda’s reading list.” He sips water. “Well, not for the next six months.See,” he says, stabbing the paper, “there are the coming titles.”

Our house. Ours. She orders sweet and sour salmon. Hechooses grass-fed beef. As they wait, she watches the orange flame of theelegant crimson candle on the table, wave and snap. Wave and snap. Slow, fast.Slow, fast.

“Something plain, Scully. Sometimes life is so complicatedthat food should just be simple.” He’s back to grinning.

The wine leaves a purple film around the glass. It slidesdown the curved sides and she watches, fascinated by the pattern.

“Wine legs,” he says.

“I’ve only had one glass, Mulder.”

“Or wine fingers, or curtains or even church windows. It’sbecause the alcohol has a lower surface tension than water. Capillary actionmakes the liquid climb the sides of the glass and both the alcohol and thewater evaporate.”

“But the alcohol evaporates faster,” she says. “I know,Mulder. But it’s still a wonder, isn’t it?”

He’s not grinning anymore. He’s serious and her stomachcoils. “Do you ever think about twins, Scully?”

Her mind flashes back to the St Rachel Motel. She fuckedMulder. At the time, it felt so good and it just a bit a wrong. It felt soself-loving and just a bit selfish. Then the bizarre events of Mulder punchingthe daylights out of his other self and her giving her own doppelganger a peptalk about psychic manifestations and latent hostilities. The whole case hadleft her flying on a high and weighted down by guilt.

“I can’tsay I do,” she tells him, swallowing the flame of shiraz and her lie. She wasfire under his touch that night. That morning.

His footis tapping the floor. “If twins are separated at birth what makes them seek outlives that are so similar, marry people with the same names, feel the pain of injuriesof the other?”

“Sometimesthey don’t, Mulder. There have been studies that show…”

His facesets. His foot stills. She stops talking. An image of him under her, face openfor the reading, lips reddened by hers, hips bucking up so she was filled withhim. She dips her chin to her chest and tries to suck in air without it seemingdesperate.

“Arethose two people themselves or are they individuals?”

“Andhere I was thinking you’d asked me out to wine and dine me.” She can stilltaste the salt-tang of his and her own arousal, coating her lips and her throatas she took him in her mouth. Joining.

“What ifwe have two selves and each grows at a different rate?”

“Twoselves?” She sips more wine and snaps back to the now. “Is this a pop psychologyquiz?”

“What ifthe person I was before is not the person I am now but I am still just one?Where does the other self go?”

“Isn’tthat just experiential learning, Mulder? We all change as we go through life.You can’t separate what you’ve lived from where you are heading.”

“Andwhat if your future is joined with another?” His hand slides across the tableto take hers. His fingers are always softer than she expects. It’s a paradox,that for all his suffering and pain, Mulder’s touch is so gentle. “What if youwant to shuck off your old self completely so that this other person can seethe new version of you. The one that is better, more fully rendered; the onewho is ready.”

His eyesclose a moment, flicker shut like he’s waiting, defensive, for the blow. Thearrogant self has disappeared, she thinks. He’s a paradox, this Mulder, thisman she loves too much and not enough. How would she ask him to ever not be hisconfusing, bewildering, multi-faceted self.

“Then Iwould say that the future looks bright,” she says, drawing herself closer tohim. Wax, transparent from heat, tipples down the side of the candle and theflame flickers. The wax settles at the base like petals. “For this otherperson. And your freshly-shucked self.”

“Ithink,” he says, “that you are ready, Scully. I know I’m ready. I think it’stime. Come back.”

She leansback, letting his words sink in. The bow catches her eye and she glances at thebook, solid on the floor. “There’s a section in A Brief History of Time thatdiscusses Feynman’s theory of sum over histories. Where each particle has many histories.”Come back. Come back. To go forward means to go back. It’s a paradox. She feelsa sting of tears and shivers. “If we have many histories, does it not go thatwe have many futures too, Mulder?

He’salmost back to grinning. Framing the narrative of their relationship in thesafe haven of supposition and theory. “And that we need to start down one pathto see where it goes. But that any number of forces or influences or chanceoccurrences can disrupt that journey?”

Shenods. “We’ve had a similar conversation before,” she says and thinks againabout bodies joining, about curves and contours and planes and angles. “Aboutfate, about destiny.” He remembers. She can see it in the slight dip of hisforehead, the way his eyes darken a shade in the glow of the candlelight. “Hawkingposits that there are arrows of time. The first is thermodynamic, where theoverall disorderliness in the world increases over time, so despite our bestefforts to create order, the energy used has created more disorder.”

“Soundslike my life, Scully,” he says, chuckling.

“But thesecond arrow is psychological, where our sense of time flows in one directiononly – that’s why we only remember the past.”

“So, that’syour complicated way of saying that we can only go forward if we learn from thepast?”

“It is,Mulder. Life in the past is complex, but the future is simple. Because we can’tsee it yet.”

“We cango forward but not with the person from the past in tow?”

“I trulybelieve that we can go forward safe in the knowledge that wherever that personis, that other self, from the past, they stay behind us. They follow, but they’llnever overtake us.”

He isgrinning again. Full on wide smile, teeth on show, dimples striped across hischeeks. “I like the thought of you always being on my tail, Scully. Whip inhand, ready to get me up to speed.”

Shelaughs then. “What would Freud make of us, Mulder?”

“I’m notsure I’m that ready, Scully.”

She walks up the stairs and checks out the covers of thebooks wedged against the banister. It’s only when she gets to the fourth stepthat she sees they are all the same – different covers, but the same novel. MobyDick. The story of two men: one obsessed with the hunt, the other desperate tounderstand what to make of the prey and the predator.

“Youknow, Mulder. There are some theories that Moby Dick is much like physics. Ahab’snarrative is linear, his velocity is on a straight, immoveable line and Ishmaelis a force of digression, a disturbance.”

“And yetit’s a book of everything that makes us human,” he says.

“It’s aparadox,” she whispers.

Hesnakes his arm around her waist and kisses her head. “Welcome home, Scully.”

#txf fanfic #my fanfiction #todayinfic #marinafrenzy

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ooops-i-arted · 5 years

Text

2019 Art Goals

There’s a snowstorm today so I finally am cooped up enough to sit down and make an art goals post for this year.

Let’s see how I did in 2018:

Okay first of all I am SO MUCH BETTER with fingers and so much more confident with them how awesome is that

Um I varied off and on with posting things on time but I did a little better.

I tried to keep on with drawing and I think I mostly did good. I had a lag in fall/winter this year but I’m getting back on the wagon.

I still suck at facial diversity. Idk man I try to draw a new face and somehow it’s always the same face? I think part of it is because I’m terrible with perspective in general and it’s even more terrible with faces so I can draw them from like, maybe two angles. I have been trying to tweak a little more with chin shape, jawline, eye shape, noses, etc. but not so much success with that imo.

I did pretty good sticking with reference images but the real breakthrough was when I was sick as a dog last month and was stuck in bed with nothing but my phone for company and finally figured out Pinterest, so now I have a nice little collection of reference images in my pocket. (Before that they were mostly on my desktop, which obviously doesn’t go with me, and I never sit at my desk to draw anyway.)

So my goals for 2019 are:

Ramble less

JUST KIDDING THIS IS GOING TO BE AN UNNECESSARILY LONG POST

Who knows maybe third year is the charm for figuring out facial diversity. Let’s keep at it.

Maybe this year will be the year I post things promptly and regularly!! Lmao as if that will ever happen

I tried soapmaking and love it, so I want to experiment more with different types of crafting that catch my eye.

Keep drawing. Continuing from last year, more stuff with focus on process than product (most of the time). I find it keeps my workflow going better.

SWTOR remains my main obsession so that’s the content you’re mostly going to get for now.

(But you have my word that whenever I get a Rebels idea, I always draw it, because I know y’all like it.)

I have been missing doing actual comics though, so I want to try and do a few more of those. I’ve been working on a couple recently and I’d forgotten what good practice it is to keep your characters realistically moving, maintaining detail continuity, etc.

I found this 30 Day of Domestic Fluff prompt challenge thing and I love fluff and fun so I decided to do it with Avei and Corso, and that’s how I’m starting off the year. Inktober kept me on track well so I’m hoping this will do the same lol. I’m currently working on 4 and while I’m not sticking to a strict one a day schedule I am doing them in order and regularly to get me in the drawing groove for the new year.

Sewing! Continue sewing more because I dropped off on that too.

Still gotta make me my Ravenclaw pajama pants. Since I’m snowed in I might work on those this weekend if I can tear myself away from video games.

Decide on a costume for Episode IX. Am I excited for Episode IX? No, not really. Am I going to go on opening night in costume? Um hell yes I am!!!

I’m strongly leaning towards Luke but idk. But since I went as Han after he fell victim to the sequel trilogy I feel I should do the same with Luke. That and Luke is the only member of the OT trio I haven’t made a costume of. Also, I can make a Luke outfit easy. Right now my main choices are:

Luke’s end of ANH outfit but without the yellow jacket, because 1. it’s snazzy af and 2. I can reuse my Han pants and belt and just make a new shirt.

Luke’s RotJ outfit because it’s my favorite Luke outfit and again I already have the shirt pattern and could probably just buy pants to go with it, so simple enough.

Luke’s original farmboy outfit. I can use the Jedi tunic my mom made me in middle school (still fits!), wear light pants, make boot wraps, make a new belt or use my Han Solo belt, and make a poncho. I also really love Luke’s fresh of the farm outfit so it’d be fun and simple to make.

One morning I woke up at 5 AM and wondered what a General Grievous inspired dress would look like. I have no ideas yet but that is still an option in my mind.

The only other goal I have is sort of art-related, sort of not, but it is very important imo, so please allow me to step onto a soapbox for a moment.

By summer 2018 my anxiety and depression had gotten so bad over the past two years I finally went and spoke to a doctor about it, and got put on medication. It has made a world of difference. I have so much more energy and I can think again, clearly, in a way I feel like I haven’t for almost two years. I feel like myself again.

I’d heard before and you probably have too this idea that medication dampens creativity. “Oh, but would Van Gogh have created such beautiful paintings if he wasn’t mentally ill/depressed/struggling/[phrase of choice]?” I’m here to tell you that’s a fucking lie and anyone who spreads it should be ashamed of themselves. I have produced more art and better art since I got on medication. My brain is mine again and I am more myself, as an artist and a person, than I’d been in a long time. So if you’re struggling and worried about losing your creativity, don’t be. (Do tell your doctor if you’re sensitive to medication, though, the initial side effects can be wacky.)

And with that, onward to 2019! Here’s hoping it’s a good year.

#2019 #art goals #mental health cw #i don't usually like soapboxing but #i feel this is very important #and maybe if i'd heard it i would've gotten on meds sooner #(or at least gotten help)

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calmdowncolb · 6 years

Text

I wrote a very dumb little short Seth/Finn story that I am calling a “A New York Christmas” and it is dedicated to and also a present for @artemidi who is my favorite human.

this is 2071 words of pure indulgent Christmas goodness.

“Babe, come onnnnn.” Seth gently headbutted against Finn’s shoulder for the third time.

“Hey! You almost made me mess up the window frame!”

Finn was on a roll again.

He was sat at the dining room table, shoulders hunched and eyes intently staring at the gingerbread house before him. He held a bag of icing carefully, like a grand paint brush, as he decorated the side of the house with delicate loops. He had bowls of four different colored icings surrounding him, each with a butterknife stuck inside. A white plastic tray with different compartments held all sorts of colorful candies. Besides that was a box of toothpicks that Finn used for, in his words, “detailing”.

This was the third gingerbread house he had created that week.

Finn was inventive and creative all year-round, from the Lego masterpieces he could effortlessly create or the elaborate drawings he’d whip up when he had spare time.

Seth could watch him all day, if even just for the faces he made while applying details.

Today, however, Seth had a plan. A very important plan, at that! But it was never going to work out if Finn didn’t take a break from his work and pay attention to him.

“Where’s that foundation brush?” Finn asked, mumbling. He was only able to take a breath after he completed the row of delicate piping.

“The what?” Seth made a face.

“I bought like, a makeup brush so I could apply the edible glitter. You didn’t see it? I left it somewhere... “

“Baby, I wanna go pick out a tree.” Seth reminded him. Again. “Come on, you promised.”

Finn still didn’t look at his pouty partner. He was considering something… Perhaps changing the color scheme of the gumdrops on the roof or the placement of the candy reindeer on the cotton-candy front lawn.

“I know, baby, gimme ten minutes.” He said absently.

“I did! Thirty minutes ago!” Seth groaned and let his body fall into the chair next to Finn with a thud.

Finn finally shot him a glance, but only because of the way the table shook from impact. However, once he saw the pure despair painted all over the puppy-faced boy, he couldn’t help but giggle.

“I’m sorry, hon.” Finn took Seth’s chin in hand. “You wanna go get ready?”

“I’ve been ready.” Seth gestured to himself. He was dressed cozy in a black sweater; his jeans ruffled slightly at his ankles to reveal the warm socks Finn had knitted him before starting his gingerbread craze.

Finn let out a sigh; more loving now.

“Alright, baby.” He, albeit reluctantly, gave his creation another look-over before pushing himself away from the table and padding back to their bedroom.

Apartments in New York City were known to be small, sometimes even cramped, but that didn’t bother the couple. Their bedroom was mostly just that… a room with a bed. The queen mattress took up the entire room, leaving only space for a walkway to the closet where their clothes hung.

A few garments of Seth’s were strewn over the comforter and floor. Finn, on his way to the closet, picked up one of the many black tee shirts and brought it to his nose to inhale the sweet residual smell of Seth’s skin.

In the dining room, Seth pounced on his opportunity.

He hadn’t been able to get enough privacy within their small space to pull his peacoat on and slip the box inside his pocket. It was slightly bigger than his fist and threatened to not fit at all, but with quiet and gentle perseverance, he tucked it in and snapped the pocket button closed. As if on cue, Finn came back out, now with a light grey sweater pulled over his muscled frame.

Cartoon-like, he walked past the table where his obsession sat, only to then walk backwards and re-examine it. With a look of horror, he snatched up a toothpick and went back to work, correcting some frosting or crunchy candy bit.

Seth’s hands fell flat to his sides from pure frustration.

“BABY.”

“Sorry, let’s go!”

Finn was already vaguely familiar with New York City after having visited a few times as a child. He had told Seth time and again the story of his first trip to Rockefeller Center and how he had been so entranced by the beauty of the magnificent Christmas tree there.

He knew the location of a local Christmas tree nursery after determination to make his own perfect tree lead to intensive research.

Seth’s new fascination with picking out a tree was an unexpected one. Being on the high-maintenance side, maybe even bratty sometimes, Finn didn’t think his boyfriend would want to seek out a freshly cut real tree. It would have to sit and relax in the apartment for a few days before they could even decorate it. Branches would have to be cut and reorganized, then sap would leak everywhere…

It just wasn’t Seth’s style.

Despite that, Finn was never one to complain. He knew without being told that Seth was probably only daring to leave his comfort zone for his own sake. Admittedly, it was cute.

With any other destination in mind, they could take an Uber, giving them the chance to make out in the backseat and make any local driver despise them. But since the tree would have to be escorted home, it was Seth’s turn to drive.

Finn, who must have had energy pent up from sitting and focusing on his gingerbread house for so long, incessantly poked and tickled at Seth’s ribs while he drove, earning playful scolds until finally his offending hand was captured and held for the remainder of the drive.

The nursery was a little out of the way from their tiny apartment, and finding parking was a nightmare, but Seth knew it would all be worth it in the end.

They stepped inside, hand-in-hand, after complimenting the white and gold lights that adorned the outside.

Inside, the lobby had four massive trees set up in each corner. They were decorated in different color schemes: silver and gold, red and green, blue and silver and rainbow. Classic Christmas tunes played over a speaker system.

Finn immediately gravitated to the blue and silver tree, ooh’ing and ahh’ing at the incredible sparkling lights and shiny orbs hanging from the branches.

Seth joined him in observation, but merely pretended to look while his hand made its way to inside his pocket to stroke at the hidden box inside.

The trees for sale were kept in a side room, accessed by a long hallway.

Inside, the smell of fresh pine instantly hit whoever entered like a smack.

The trees were set up in columns, each with their own stand, all held together by a metal fence. Little price tags were stuck to one branch of each tree.

A small station was set up in the center of the room, with an employee greeting and helping customers. At her table was mix to make hot cocoa and a plate of sugar cookies for anyone to grab. Seth and Finn shared a cookie and a few extra-sweet kisses as they shopped.

Being tender-hearted as always, Finn was instantly attached to a delicate looking tree. It was smaller than the rest and had a few bare spots from missing or twisted branches.

Seth, on the other hand, chose the tallest and strongest looking tree, not concerned with how it towered over his own body.

After an hour of playful bickering and teasing, and <i>several</i> laps around the entire room, they found and selected a beautiful happy medium- a 6 foot tall Fraser Fir, plump and gorgeous emerald green.

They informed the attendant of their selection and she happily called an assistant over to bag and carry the tree for the boys. They were told to head back to the lobby to pay and they raced each other there.

Instead of getting in line at the checkout desk, Finn returned to the silver and blue tree.

“Baby, pick out an ornament!” Seth suggested when he noticed.

“Really?” Finn looked back with a smile bright enough to envy the tree itself.

“Yeah! Somethin’ you can remember today with…”

Without another word, Finn grinned again and began fluttering around the tree, carefully considering and examining each ornament.

Seth now felt the weight of the box in his pocket, as if it were a hundred pounds. He pretended to look around the ornaments with his boyfriend, feeling his pores break a slight sweat as he waited for the perfect time.

“I like this one… and this one… Seth, they’re all wonderful, I dunno how I could ever choose…”

“Maybe there’s one over on the other trees you’d like more?” Seth heard his voice crack as his nerves seeped in. He quickly cleared his throat and for once, was thankful that Finn’s attention was not directed at him.

“Mmm… Maybe…” Finn drifted away, in the direction of the equally stunning rainbow tree in the opposite end of the room.

This was it. Seth’s chance had made itself known.

Hastily but carefully, he whipped the box from his pocket, looking frantically over his shoulder every five seconds or so. He opened the box, took the plastic ball out- an ornament of his own- and searched for an unoccupied branch to hang it on.

As if on cue, Finn returned a second later, muttering something about how he just liked this tree better.

Seth could feel every nerve in his body dancing about his skin. His stomach was performing somersaults as Finn went back to his searching. He pretended to hum along to Rob Thomas’ “A New York Christmas” until he couldn’t stand the suspense any longer.

“Baby… Wha-What about this one?” Seth stuttered.

“Which?” Finn perked up.

“Right here…” Seth pointed to what he had just planted on the tree.

Finn’s eyes followed the direction of his finger and when he noticed what had not been there a mere minute before, his jaw dropped open.

What was once a simple plastic ornament had been messily decorated with one of Finn’s own glitter glue pens from his many art projects.

In a brilliant blue glitter, nearly the same color as Finn’s own eyes, Seth had drawn on the ornament:

Finn, Will you marry me?

“Oh… my... “ Finn brought his hands up to cover his agape mouth.

“Do you… like that one?” Seth offered, feeling the urge to cry or vomit or perhaps even both growing with each excruciating second that passed.

In a flash, Finn was on him.

Seth felt strong legs wrap around his waist as his face was assaulted with wet kisses.

Wet, both from the patternless frenzy Finn’s lips made and from the tears that spilled from his eyes, down his cheeks, and all over Seth.

“Yes, yes! Of course, yes!” Finn cried into Seth’s ear. His words were interrupted both by hiccups and giggles as he continued his loving attack.

“I love you, I love you…” Seth repeated like a holy mantra as he patted and rubbed Finn’s back.

The other customers in the lobby must have caught on to what had happened, as a chorus of ‘aww’ sounded. A few people even applauded.

Seth and Finn heard them but could not stop to acknowledge. They were much too busy exchanging kisses and I love you’s over and over until their lips and voices were sore.

Finn reached over Seth’s shoulder to pluck the homemade ornament from its branch. He stared at it, sloppy handwriting and glitter smudges included, as if it was made of pure gold- like nothing in the world was more precious.

“This is the most beautiful ornament I’ve ever seen…” He whispered so only Seth could hear.

“For the most beautiful guy I’ve ever seen.” Seth said, grinning against Finn’s ear before giving it a bite.

Finn, not seeming as if he was even considering climbing down from Seth’s chest, squeezed his shoulders a little tighter.

He brought the still-plain side of the ornament to his lips to kiss it before nuzzling his head under Seth’s neck.

No matter if the gingerbread house at home was still a work in progress- their plans for the night would now be dedicated to celebrating what would surely be the most blissful marriage and the happiest Christmas they had ever experienced.

#sethfinn #ballins #my fanfic #freddie #artemidi

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lubdubsworld · 7 years

Text

The Perfect Husband ( Jung Kook / OC)

Genre : Romance/ Drama/Violence

Rating : 19+ ( all the eleven year olds reading this, honestly stop :’( i don’t want your corruption on my conscience )

WARNING : This is literally every fanfic ever written. LMAO. Honestly, it’s so cliche, you’ll probabaly cringe through it. But I wanted to indulge my own love for TSundere , violent Jung kook )

WArnings : Abusive relationship. ( the hero IS VIOLENT WITH THE oc but domestic violence is a serious issue so if an abusive hero triggers you, STAY AWAY. )

Pairing : Jung Kook/ OC

Chapter 1

"Blue. I like Blue."

Mrs. Jeon stared at me , condescending judgment written all over her perfect face and I shifted nervously.

Just a minute ago she had asked me what I thought about possible color schemes for my wedding to her son.

I'd answered the question honestly but apparently, honesty wasn't always the right answer. My mother , next to me in her brand new ruby red dress which had cost a whopping 5000 dollars, elbowed me sharply in the ribs. I had no idea what to do or say anymore. After a day of shopping with my prospective mother-in-law, the richest woman in the country and my mother, the most pretentious woman in the country, I'd lost all hold on reality and myself. I wanted to peel off the green georgette dress I was stuffed into , slip on my favorite worn t-shirt and shorts and just curl into a corner and sob.

"That's... interesting." Her eye twitched ." I was thinking something more classy." Mrs. Jeon wrinkled her nose.

"How about champagne?" My mother simpered and I blinked. Were we talking about drinks now? When had the subject changed?

"Well, champagne colored fabric would stain very easily.... I suppose I'll have to discuss this with Kookie... " She sighed in long suffering and I grimaced. Good luck holding a decent conversation with that prick, I thought miserably, wanting to sink into the ground and never rise.

"You could ask him, Reumie... You both share classes don't you?" My mother waggled her eyebrows and I floundered. If I went within five feet of Jeon Jung Kook, THE Jeon Jung Kook I'd be torn to bits, if not by the monster itself, than at least by the legion of fangirls who followed him like bitches in heat. I mean, okay the guy was good looking but the ridiculous extent to which they worshipped him was enough to make me blanche.

Which made the very prospect of me marrying him, something like a death sentence. I was going to die, there really was no question about it? Who cared if I wore blue or champagne on my wedding day? I'd be buried in black anyway.

"Do that then. And call me tomorrow. Without fail." Mrs. Jeon said firmly and I groaned. I'd never spoken to Jung Kook before. Not even once. He hung out in a completely different crowd in our college, the elite crowd. I mean, the more elite crowd seeing as my entire college was filled with rich kids. I wasn't an exception. My father had recently patented a bunch of stuff that had earned us a lot of money in a short time. So i was, what the kids in my college called, new money. And apparently, Jeon Inc., had taken notice of my father's suddenly booming business and where willing to invest , provided I married their son. It was simple really.

Mr. Jeon wanted my father's company to pass on to Jeon inc., after my father and since i was the only daughter, if I married Jeon, a merger would be inevitable. I didn't want to marry him but I didn't really know how to stop the dominoes crashing down around me. I'd protested verbally and my father had threatened to disown me. And while the thought of going out of my home, making it big as an artist, all by myself was very cool-sounding, I didn't really dislike my parents. I liked them, loved them even on somedays and i would never put them, and myself through that kind of emotional stress.

My parents had never been cruel. They treated me well, loved me in all ways and while my mom could be a bit over the top in her need to fit in with high class society wives with more money than sense, she was still a nice lady. Shallow but nice.

When we reached home after bidding Mrs. Jeon goodbye , I found my father sitting in his study. He smiled vacantly when he saw me.

"Reumie... How was your day?" He said blankly, returning to flip through his files. I bit my lips and went over to him.

"Father, can i still stay here at home, after I marry Jeon Jung kook." I said in a rush.

My father startled and frowned.

"Why on earth would you do that?" He shook his head , annoyed.

"Father, my college... i mean the people in my college , if they knew I was living with Jung Kook..." I begged.

"This isn't a private marriage , Reumie. It's a public affair. People are going to know... I've already bought a condo for both of you close to your college. In fact, here's the key, you should go check it out with Jung kook when you meet up with him. " He hesitated and stared at me. " Jung Kook is a bit introverted. You have to be the one to reach out to him, alright? Don't be your usual rude self and act nice. Have you met him for coffee?"

I stared in mute rebellion. I'd never spoken a single word to Jung Kook.

"I'.. I will." I said finally defeated.

"Your mother was telling me you were supposed to discuss the decoration color scheme with him as well. Go see the condo, get coffee, discuss about your wedding and go meet your mother in law tomorrow. Don't mess things up for me, understand?"

Apparently, no one was on my side. I couldn't put it off anymore. I would have to go talk to Jeon Jung Kook.

~~~~~~~~

"Talk to him? Really? He'll bite your head off." My best friend Soyou grimaced glancing over at Jeon Jung Kook who had an arm wrapped around his latest flame. She was so tall she nearly went past Jung kook himself who was freakishly tall as it was. She was also unnaturally beautiful, i thought with a grimace. I couldn't quite understand the obsession with the perfect features that plagued all my classmates. Apparently, looking normal was a crime. They spent millions on their face tweaking every perceived flaw till all of them pretty much looked the same.

"I don't really have a choice." I said softly, glancing down at the keys to the condominium in my hand.

"Well you could at least wear something nice..." Soyou grimaced glaring at my choice of outfit. I spluttered in indignation. I was wearing a black men's shirt and skinny jeans. What could possibly be wrong with that?!

"Are you serious?" I rolled my eyes.

"Everyone knows Jungkook hates girl who wear shirts."

Why on earth would someone hate shirts??

"Honestly, I'm supposed to dress for him, now?" I said wrinkling my nose in distaste.

"If you're going to marry him, then yes." Soyou pointed out.

I frowned deeper.

"you're useless. Anyway, it's not like i can actually go buy a dress just to talk to him. My dad will kill me if i don’t talk to him today.” I swallowed a bit and casually glanced at Jung Kook who was standing a good fifteen feet away surrounded by his gang of friends.

His gaze shifted right then to me and I flinched.

Jeon Jung Kook was beautiful. Well, in the way a man could be beautiful. He was tall, a good foot taller than me and he was lean and perfectly proportioned. Ebony black hair that was always perfectly styled , a face that was absolutely flawlessly proportionate and pearly white teeth. He fairly radiated beauty. It was almost unpleasantly blinding.

I looked away quickly and Soyou gave me a slight smile.

"Still, I'd say you should be careful. He's not exactly known for being nice." She grimaced. I supposed she was right. JungKook and his gang of surly seniors weren't the sort you'd want to mess with.

I hung back after class, my feet aching from how long I'd been standing here, waiting for my fiance to come out of the men's room. He'd disappeared into it a good thirty minutes earlier and I was starting to feel a little worried.

Did he slip and fall and crack his head on the porcelain sink?

I should be so lucky.

Groaning, but with time running out, I finally gave up and slowly made my way to the carved door of the restroom. I opened it partially and peered in for any signs of life.

"Boo."

I yelped and tripped over my own two feet, the slightly slippery surface making me slide and hit my waist against the granite counter on the side. I stared in surprise when Jung Kook appeared in front, leering in a way that was anything but friendly.

"I was waiting for you... " He glanced at my hair and then my clothes and then without warning reached out and gripped my chin in a bruising grip that drew a whimper out of me. I clawed at his wrist, trying to make him let go but he didn't feel a thing. He was hurting me and I was too stunned to process why.

I flinched when he twisted my jaw to the side, seeming to examine my face from all angles.

"Button nose, thin lips, mousy brown hair and boring black eyes. If you're father's such a hotshot, shouldn't he be at least fixing your face before foisting you off on me?" He drawled . I shoved hard at his shoulders and he let go, looking surprised.

"You... " i couldn't form words. My jaw was throbbing so bad and the pain was surreal. No one had hurt me physically before.

"Me.." He mocked, " I'm not into ugly women. So go tell your parents you don't want to marry me." He growled. I just stared at him.

"You rude bastard..." His eyes flared at the insult but I was too enraged to care, " You think I want to marry you... I.."

He snarled and pushed me up against the wall, so hard my bones jarred inside me. I was so winded, i couldn't draw my next breath in.

"You think I'm Prince charming, sweetheart? You think I give a flying fuck about what you want? Newsflash, I don't give a shit what happens to you or your father ... But if you want to live, you'll stay the hell away from me..."

His hand slipped down and to my complete horror, he squeezed my breast so hard that my knees knocked together. His thumb pressed into the tip with painful force and my entire body twisted in violent protest.

"I'm not gentle, in bed or out of it... thin little thing like you...You'll break within an hour.... You don't want that do you??" He said , voice deep and angry and I felt my throat go dry. Good god, was this the same guy who walked around in perfectly pressed shirts and clean cut slacks and ties? Who acted like he was a model student, all perfect diction and grades and polite respect for elders. The so called heir to the biggest conglomerate in Asia.

"Get away from me..." I choked out, trying to wriggle out of his grip but his entire body was pinning me to the wall, his hips anchoring me in place like a millstone.

"I heard you're a virgin..." He grinned and I froze.

"Shut up..." I said not in any mood to listen to what he was about to say.

"Are you sure you want my cock inside you for your first time, babe? It'll hurt ...I won't be kind you know.... " He bit down on my neck and nausea rose up inside my throat like a snake rearing it's head. I wanted to vomit all over his face. I wish I did.

"You disgusting son of a bitch..." I ground out pummeling his shoulders, stunned by how physically sturdy he was. My blows had absolutely zero impact on his body.

"I don't care if you do marry me... It's not like I'll have to be faithful to you or anything anyway, but you...you'd better be careful. I can be a little hard..." He ground his hips into my stomach and i felt my eyes widen when his erection pressed into me. " to get along with. "

Finally he drew away and I sank to the floor , my knees giving out and my jaw throbbing. I was going to have a bruise there, I knew.

"Still want to marry me , princess?" He sneered.

"Go to hell..." I managed to get out. He frowned , reaching out and gripping my wrist hard.

"Thought so. Now run along like a good girl and tell your parents you want to call off the wedding."

He squatted down and before i could crawl away, his fingers sank into the hair at the back of my head and he yanked me up sharply, making my scalp burn . I whimpered , when he glared down at me, face inches from mine. I tried to dig my nails into his wrist but it was pointless.

"If you end up being my wife, I don't know what I'll do to you..." He hissed and I stared because his eyes...they weren't dark like they looked but an odd color of navy grey. He let go of my hair and I crawled away till my back hit the wall. I'd never been so terrified in my life.

"If you don't stay away from me, I'll fuck you up. Don't say i didn't warn you!!"

With that he stalked out slamming the door shut behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I won't marry him!! They can drag me kicking and screaming to the altar but I won't!!"I sobbed while Soyou hugged me close as I rocked back and forth on the small cot in her bedroom. She tried to soothe me but my mind was stuck on a state of catatonic shock. The bruise on my chin was an ugly shade of purple and my waist hurt from where he'd gripped me so hard. I couldn't imagine anything worse than being stuck with him permanently. He was a monster.

"Babe, you know it's not that easy...?Maybe you should talk to him..."

"Talk?!" I said shrilly. " He said he'd rape me!! " I shrieked.

"Jesus, calm down..." Soyou hissed and I fought to get my breath back.

"I need your help. " I said desperately and Soyou looked stricken.

"Reumie..."

"there's a bus to Busan at 7.30PM tonight. I have relatives there. My grandparents, they'll ...i mean I could stay with them, in case my parents kick me out when they find out. But I've only got 25000 Won I need some more to get the ticket... You've got to help me..."

"You're running away ? Because of Jeon Jung Kook...That's ridiculous..." Soyou shook her head in disbelief and I groaned in defeat.

"Why won't anyone believe me? He's not the kind of guy he makes himself out to be...i don't... I can't marry him, Soyou he'll kill me." She was supposed to be my best friend. She usually believed, implicitly, anything i told her. But even she wouldn't accept that Jeon Jung Kook had hurt me.

"You're not even listening to yourself. He's just a rich guy from college. Not some sort of a gangster like you're making him out to be. Rape is a crime for heaven's sake. He's not going to do something criminal. He has a reputation to hold. In fact did it strike you that maybe he's just trying to get to you? You do know that the chick he's hanging out with is the daughter of one of your father's business rivals?" She said bluntly.

I froze.

"What?"

"Jiah Lin. That's her name. Her father's been trying to get Jeon Inc., to invest for years now. It's entirely possible that he just wants his girlfriend's father to have a better chance. Maybe if you refuse he'll marry her and her father will get what's rightfully your father's..." Soyou said calmly.

I felt unaccountably foolish.

"You really think, that's it? He was just trying to scare me?" My throbbing chin said otherwise.

"He's shady enough to do that... " She shrugged and i fell back against the bed, thoroughly confused. What was wrong with my life? One part of me absolutely boiled in anger at the way he had treated me. The other more rational part accepted that he was stronger, richer and he had the upper hand. Both parts agreed wholeheartedly that i should stay the hell away from him. But Soyou was right. My father had worked way too hard to reach the position he was in now. He needed and deserved that investment. This deal was important to him, something he had really earned with years of hard work.

"So, I should marry him...?" I said confused. It was still a distasteful thought. Even if the whole violent thing was an act, there was no denying that Jung kook was a horrible guy to get along with.

"you should definitely talk to him. Tell him you know his game. Maybe he'll own up. Admit it. Then you can decide what to do."

~~~~~~~~~

I almost screamed when I saw Jung kook the next day, leaning against my locker looking like he'd stepped out of some expensive business magazine. I hesitated, debating the pros and cons of walking up to him right now. Finally, I sighed and made my way over , gripping the book in my hand. I would honest to god, whack him with it if he touched me, I told myself.

"Hi...bitch." He said with a sneer and i went stiff. I hated people who used profanities like that.

"Bastard." I shot back and he grinned.

"So feisty. I'd love to break you in properly. In fact, I was thinking, even if we didn't get married, you could definitely use some schooling on how to treat your betters." He drawled.

"My betters? Don't see any, right now..." I shrugged and his eyes narrowed a fraction.

"What's your deal? Do you like getting hit? Why're you baiting me?" He snapped .

I glared.

"I know what you're doing... My father deserves the investment and i won't let you scare me away." I said furiously .

He looked confused for a second and I faltered.

"What the fuck are you on about?" He said looking confused and the look of confusion on his face was too real to be feigned. I felt foreboding rise inside me.

"You want to marry that girlfriend of yours... So you're trying to make me break up with you. Well , I won't... I'm not scared of you..."

He hesitated.

"I have no idea what you're talking about but that last bit is really interesting.. You're not afraid of me?" He raised an eyebrow and pushed away from the locker. I blinked when he rolled his shoulders and flexed his arms, stretching lightly till his shirt rod up his hips, flashing a sliver of pale white skin.

"You really should be sweetheart. I won't be crossing any lines with you because as far as I'm concerned, there are no lines. Anything goes.... Does that really not scare you??"

He was coming closer and closer and I took a step back.

Run, every instinct inside me screamed.

"I... I'm leaving..." I stuttered out, turning tail and dashing away.

I barely made it a few steps when his arm came around my waist, lifting me clear off the ground as he dragged me back. I started screaming just a second too late. His palm pressed into my mouth, the metal rings around his fingers digging into the flesh of my lips and jaw as he dragged me around the lockers to the abandoned classrooms on the other side. My eyes went wide and my heart nearly gave out.

I tried to bite down on his hand and kicked out wildly but he was so much taller, so much stronger and the grip on my waist was so tight that my stomach felt like it was being ripped apart.

"Look at you... You're absolutely fearless aren't you? It's so bloody infuriating , seeing you running that pretty little mouth back at me even when I'm twisting and bending you as I wish... It's like you want me to hurt you... is that it babe? Do you get off on me tossing you around?? Does it turn you on, me manhandling you like this?? " He panted and the tears stung , part from anger, part fear and partly from pure agony.

Why the hell was this guy so strong? I kicked out harder but my legs barely hit the floor . He shouldered the door of the classroom open with enough force to send the peeled plywood door rocking against the opposite wall. The brute strength in his movements only terrified me more.

Damn you Soyou!!

He tossed me to the floor roughly and I crawled away on all fours, choking on air as I tried to swallow.

"Get away from me..." I could feel my knees burning with stinging pain. . I glanced down. The floor had apparently been covered by shattered glass shards. Cursing my luck I tried to scramble to my feet only to loose my footing and land hard on my bottom. He looked amused as he stalked over to me.

"Since you're already on your knees, why not show me how good you are with that mouth? Surely, that tongue should be good at something other than riling me up ?? Oppa, could use some loving right now, jagi...." He raised an eyebrow and began removing his belt.

Bile rose inside me in a rush and I whimpered, moving to get away again and he grabbed me tighter, pushing me up against the wall again before yanking both my wrists together and tying them with his belt . He was tying me up. He was actually tying me up!!

I screamed so loud that my head began to ache and Jung kook swore.

“Shut the fuck up or i’m going to stuff my tie in your mouth!” He gritted out and the violent imagery made me freeze. He knelt over me, straddling my waist and I started shaking as he reached for the first button of my shirt.

The door to the clasroom slammed open, hitting the wall and startling both of us.

"Jeon Jung Kook, what the hell are you doing, you idiot??!!"

The loud voice made him pause and I peered over his broad shoulders. I caught sight of an unfamiliar guy with blonde hair, a look of bored distaste on his face.

"Oh, hi Yoongi hyung. Just having a little fun with my little wife." He called out cheerfully and I stared at him in disbelief. His fingers were still half way unbuttoning my shirt.

He wasn't just dangerous, he was a psychopath.

Thankfully , this Yoongi had some sense.

When he took one look at me , pinned to the wall with my arms twisted unnaturally ,he swore angrily and dragged Jung kook off me. No mean feat that. The other was so much more slender and shorter.

But Jung Kook moved away with a grunt and Yoongi stared at me in curiosity.

"Why the hell would you come here with this son of a bitch? He's not known for treating women right... " He shook his head in disbelief and I bristled while the obviously older guy loosened the knot around my wrists.

"He dragged me here..." I glared and Jung Kook shrugged.

"She's my wife hyung. The gift wrapped present my parents got me for christmas.I told her to go break up the engagement if she wants to live but apparently she has no self preservation at all. She actually came back looking for me. It's like she can't get enough.... " He leered. I yanked my hand away and pushed Min Yoongi away when he reached for me. He held both his hands up .

"Easy...I'm not trying to hurt you.... What on earth are you doing here by yourself, kid? Get out.." He said with a shake of his head.

I really didn't need to be told twice.

"I'll be coming for dinner tonight. Your parents better tell me they want the engagement broken or I'm coming after you..." Jung Kook snarled the moment I reached the door.

It took me a good hour to calm myself down.

~~~~~~~~~

"Mother, you don't understand..." I pleaded but my mother gave my long hair a yank, trying to get me to stay still while she plaited the strands into some sort of a side plait. It looked ridiculous on me, or so I felt. I wasn't thin and the dress she'd squeezed me caused me to spill out of all the wrong places.

"If he wants to call off the engagement then fine, i won't blame you for it. But we're doing no such thing." My mother said firmly after listening to my account of what happened with growing disbelief. Apparently a 'nice guy' like Jeon Jung kook would never treat women like that and I should ' stop making filthy lies ' just to get out of the marriage.

"But he hurt me..." I wanted to scream the place down but apparently nothing would convince my parents.

When the doorbell rang my soul actually left me for a second.

Hands clenched into fists , I gritted my teeth and stepped into the huge hallway , noting absently that my mom had the house cleaned to a sparkle. When I looked at Jeon Jung kook I momentarily stumbled.

He looked flawless.

Tall, strapping, dressed in perfectly tailored suit with the jacket left open, his shirt a deep purple silky and soft even by sight. His hair was styled to perfection and his long, long lashes made it look like he's lined his eyes with kohl. Twin piercing glittered on his ears and his lips curved in a breathtaking smile, directed at my mother. When he turned to me his eyes narrowed and then widened.

"Jagi..." He purred and i went perfectly still.

What the-

He stepped right up to me and pulled me into a hug and I froze in surprise, the warmth of his body permeating through my dress and setting me on fire. There was no strength behind his hug, just a warm pressure , overflowing with affection and if i didn't know for a fact that he'd dragged me by my hair less than four hours ago , I may have melted into the embrace.

He pulled back and to my complete horror, his palms went to my face, thumb lightly tracing the fading bruise on my chin.The one he'd put there when I'd first met him.

"Oh, what's this...did you hit yourself somewhere?? you should be careful , aegiya...." He shook his head before bending low and actually dropping a kiss on the corner of my mouth. My tongue refused to come unglued from the roof of my mouth. I thought i'd never speak again, my voice completely shocked out of me.

"What do you think you're doing?" I hissed under my breath.

"Being the perfect husband..." HE said, voice husky as he lightly flicked my lower lip.

I bit my lip so hard i almost drew blood.

Dinner was torture.

I was sitting next to him and about half way through, his hand dropped to my knee underneath the table. I couldn't chew the food in my mouth, fear and apprehension building up so fast inside me that I was sure my heart was going to give out. It was clear that he wanted me to mess up. Do something that he could later use against me. He was actually succeeding because i was this close to chucking the glass of wine on his face. But i didn't. I would be the bad guy then and he would likely deny everything and my parents would murder me.

So I clenched my fists and tried to endure.

And then he lightly yanked my dress, till the fabric kept going up and up , past my thigh while I futilely tried to yank the fabric back down, without tearing it.

"Reumie.... what are you doing?" My mother hissed from across the table and I sighed in defeat, taking my hands off my legs. Never put your hands below the table had been my mother's most strict rule and she looked like she was going to explode.

For a few minutes, Jung kook didn't do anything, just let his fingers lie curved around my thighs. I could feel my skin burning up at the unfamiliar touch of male fingers. Just when I started to discreetly pull my leg away, his grip tightened, in a way that made pain shoot right up my muscles. I realized suddenly that he was way too strong for me to fight physically. And if he had a shred of decency he wouldn't use brute strength against a girl, but clearly, decency and Jeon Jung Kook did not belong in the same language.

"Don't move." He said firmly and I gave him a desperate look.

"Don't do this..." I begged , pride long gone. I just wanted him to leave me alone.

But his fingers slipped up my dress, thumb tracing circles on my inner thigh and then without any warning his fingers caught the hem of my panties and tugged it down.

I stood up so fast, I knocked the glass of wine in front of me , the red liquid, staining the snow white table cloth and the peach colored fabric of my dress in one long splash. I stumbled away quickly.

"Excuse me... " I choked out and my mother looked beyond stunned. i didn't wait for her to scream at me, instead turned around and fled right out of the dining hall, up two flights of stairs before stopping in front of my room.

What the hell had i got myself into? And how do I make it stop??

I'd barely managed to close the door behind me and step in when a polished boot came through the little space, stopping me.

Jung Kook pushed his way into my room and i yelped.

"What the hell do you think you're doing...." I shouted but his palm came down on my mouth, pressing hard and pushing me back till I tripped over the carpet and fell into the bed. HE chased right after, crawling over till he was straddling my hips, glaring at me angrily.

"Didn't you tell your parents you want the wedding called off...??" He snarled and I pushed his palm away from my mouth.

"If you want it called off , why on earth are you acting like you like me ... You're a psycho.." I panted while he rolled his hips against mine, the movement oddly jarring.He had insane control on his body, able to move specific parts of his hips and legs in any way he wanted. It was frightening.

"It looks like you don't mind being married to me... Are you some kind of a masochist?" He drawled, trying to still my thrashing body with firm fingers at my waist.

"They aren't listening...Get off me you monster!! "

He flattened himself on my body and I started suffocating. He was too heavy and my bones were getting crushed, my lungs screaming in agony as they struggled to draw in air against the weight on my chest. I gasped and he mercifully lifted his upper body off my chest , hips and legs still pinning me down while i gulped down some much needed oxygen.

"Your hair is so fucking long....Get it cut..." He snapped reaching out and giving my plait a yank.

I glared in disbelief.

"It's my hair... You do not get a say in how long it can be..." I spat out angrily and he stiffened.

" You're going to be my wife. Your hair makes you look like a country bumpkin... Get it cut short and styled properly. " He said , finally lifting himself away from me. I crawled to my knees and glared at him. My hair was my favorite part of my body. I loved it. I enjoyed keeping it long no matter how often my mom asked me to have it cut. it was my one true act of rebellion against a society that called me too smart, too boyish and too stubborn.

I'd be damned if i let him take it away from me.

"If you think I'll jump through hoops, just because you ask me to... you're out of your mind. I'm not one of your brain dead whores..." I snapped.

He went scarily still.

"What did you say to me?"

I willed myself not to balk at the look on his face.

"You heard me..."

"You think... You have a choice? You think i won't make you jump through hoops, if that's what I want....??" He whispered , glaring daggers into me as he took a menacing step towards me. And then before I even knew what he was doing He reached for something in his boot and yanked it off.

I saw a brief flash of metal before his fingers gripped my waist length plait and yanked it so sharply that I lost my footing and slid right off the bed. A second later the pressure eased and he stepped away, holding about a foot length of my hair.

It took me two seconds to realize that he'd actually chopped my hair off. I let out a shriek of disbelief, grabbing my head, stunned to see that my hair barely fell past my ears now. My entire body began shaking in rage and disbelief.

"You son of a bitch..." I whispered, unable to move.

Angry tears spilled over my eyes while he stepped closer, threading fingers through my messy hair , yanking it a little gently.

"Don't cry.... I hate women who cry..." He said softly, and then he pushed my chin up. " If we are getting married. And something tells me we are...I'd rather you don't fight me so much. Everytime you talk back to me , I want to bend and break you..." He whispered.

I stayed perfectly still, not trusting my own voice. What he'd done had crossed all possible lines . I would never forgive him. Never.

"Get your hair styled. And don't ever tell me I can't do something. "

The door slammed shut behind him.

Author’s Note : As you can guess, i need psychiatric help. Welp. Sorry for your brains. I really am. Let me know what you thought. Okbye.

#bts cliche #bts arranged marriage #bts fanfics #bts imagines #bts jung kook #jeon jung kook

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0100100100101101 · 7 years

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Berlin—February 1st, 2017. I am rushing through the neighborhood of Mitte, slaloming my way through icy mud piles along the streets. Google tells me the sun is setting today at 16:53. I have two more hours of daylight. Just about enough to get a few shots of Errolson Hugh, the Canadian designer behind the Berlin-based performance wear brand Acronym.

We get together at his studio in the Mitte neighborhood in former East Berlin, which is now a popular bourgeois-bohemian neighborhood. In his loft-like studio, I almost crash into one of the stacks of the hundreds of shoe boxes that dot the floor plan like Greek temple columns. “Sorry about the mess,” Errolson says in a calm voice, “all these shoes go online for sale tonight.” Inside the boxes is the Acronym Nike Air Force 1 Downtown sneaker, the latest edition of their ongoing collaboration. Like almost everything Acronym puts onto the market, it is in high demand and soon to be #VeryRare. I find out later that night that all 600 sneakers sold in less than 12 minutes online.

I look past the shoe boxes through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. The sky is grey and darkening at the horizon. We dash out in the backyard to catch the last rays of gloomy light. Errolson grabs a couple of black jackets, among them the J1A-GT, a revamped version of Acronym’s first collection from 2002. “It’s damn cold,” I gasp, and Errolson smiles, replying, “Oh, this is nothing compared to where I come from.”

Born in Canada, Errolson grew up facing another echelon of cold winters. To keep ourselves warm, I ask him if he can show me a few martial arts moves, knowing that he has been a karate pro since he was a kid. He shortly considers, looks around the neighborhood, then says, “Yeah, why not.” Errolson tells me that he and his younger brother both started training together, when they were 10 and eight years old, respectively. The uniform, the karate gi, is a very traditional example of Japanese pattern-making, and its geometry is such that there are no restrictions to physical motion. That was the first time Errolson realized a piece of clothing could limit or enable the way the body works. “I was always driving my mom crazy trying to find pants that I could wear and kick in. Any kind of pants. I’d always be in the department stores in the changing rooms, throwing sidekicks,” he says.

Errolson is dressed in his own collection, wearing black P25-CH pants, exactly those ones he dreamt of as a kid—pants you can move in freely, stay outside in, and practice karate. I ask him what he learned from karate apart from how to do a badass axe kick. “Martial arts fosters self-reliance, and you learn to trust your own judgment. You realize, in a very real, physical way, that you can do more than you think you can. The whole mind over matter thing, mastering situations, all of that has real world application, particularly if you’re an entrepreneur or you’re in a super competitive industry, like fashion.“

Only much later would the designer apply the merits of karate to his work process, design, and brand. Errolson’s parents, Chinese-Jamaicans, moved from the tropical Caribbean to the woodlands of Alberta to study architecture. After graduating, they worked together all over Canada, moving around to wherever the jobs would take them. “For me, Canada was the feeling of alienation and total isolation,“ Errolson says about his up-bringing, “Growing up there was myself, my brother, maybe one other Asian kid at school, one black kid. People wanted to grow up and be hockey players or work in the oil industry, that’s kind of all there was, so being a designer was about as realistic as becoming an astronaut.”

Nobody knew anything about fashion. Errolson remembers one shop, which had a copy of The Face and i-D, that was like a message from outer space. “I think it was my guitar teacher who first gave me an issue of The Face,” Errolson remembers, “That blew me away. Then my dad gave me a copy of Interview magazine at Christmas in 1985. Madonna was on the cover, along with handmade pencil drawings. It was this giant newsprint magazine. I still remember spending the entire day reading. I knew every single page of that magazine by like a week later.” With no internet, those rare magazines were the only channel to see what was going on outside of Alberta.

In 1989, Errolson enrolled at Ryerson Polytechnic University. He graduated, but it was a bumpy road. “They tried to kick me out, twice. I was a horrible student—very disruptive and not respectful,“ he confesses. I ask him if it had to do with his karate mentality, the idea of being self-reliant and one’s own boss. “Yeah, there had always been that outsider perspective,” he answers. “It is still that way with my brand.”

In 1999, Errolson registered the brand Acronym with his partner and former girlfriend Michaela Sachenbacher. From the start it focused on experimenting at the edges of what apparel can be. “Acronym is conceptual,” the designer says, “You take something and make it compact and useable. You express something very complex in a compact way, which is similar to everything we’re trying to do with apparel.”

Michaela and Errolson are both trained as designers. She now runs all of the legal, production, and finances of the company from Brooklyn, while Errolson does all of the Acronym studio work, collaborations with Nike or Stone Island, rotating between Berlin, Milan, and Tokyo. They both design Acronym together. “I’m the visible part, but Michaela is equally strong as far as aesthetics, and Acronym definitely wouldn’t look the same if she wasn’t co-owner,” Errolson says, “She is the person I’ve probably learned more from than anyone else in my life. I’ve known her since we were 18.”

Before establishing Acronym as a fashion brand, Michaela and Errolson had a creative agency in Munich. They were designing and art directing mostly active sportswear, for mountain bike or snowboard brands like Burton. Both picked up on the technology that was there and through friends came across military and industrial apparel, which at some point led to the question, “Why can’t we have all of this for everyday use?” The couple realized that what they were looking for in clothes was not yet on the market. “People were like, ‘Oh that sounds terrible, it’s so difficult, it’s expensive, why would you want to do that?’ So we started Acronym almost out of frustration. We said, ‘Alright, if you don’t want to do it, we’ll do it.’ At first, people didn’t care. It was like five to six years before anybody was interested.”

Errolson is well-connected in the fashion world, having lived in Los Angeles, Tokyo, and New York, but for years the brand remained something like an outsider, a well-hidden secret. Another reason Acronym stayed detached from the fashion system is the way the company and the studio work. “We operate in parallel with it, and sometimes we intersect with it,” the designer says about the industry at large, “but for the most part our process and the way we work has almost nothing to do with the way everyone else works. This is our strength and it’s also obviously our weakness. The strength of it is being so outside of the system you develop your own independent way of doing things, and it really gives you an individual approach and a fingerprint. Then the negative part obviously is to interface with the system at play. You’re not limited by the limitations of the system, but you also don’t get to benefit from the advantages of being in the system.”

From the beginning, Acronym was focused on soft and light shell fabrics like Gore-Tex, a lightweight, waterproof, breathable fabric membrane designed for all-weather use. A lot of what Acronym does is taking an unattractive or not obviously stylish fabric and finding a way to make it look good. It always starts with the function of the apparel. There is a lot of thought that goes into each design and an obsession with details. The architectural influence from his parents comes into play with Errolson’s approach to materials. “The whole form follows function thing, fitness to purpose, all of those broad architectural concepts. My brother and I grew up with those all around us, and so it was very natural for me to apply that to apparel.”

Acronym’s collections never have more than 15 pieces, an indication of the painstaking detail that goes into each design. It took three years to work on the brand’s first collection, named Kit-1. It was released in 2002 in an edition of 120, consisting of a jacket, a bag, and accessories. The industry noticed, liked it, and the Fall/Winter 2003 collection was picked up by concept stores like Colette in Paris.

There is a misconception in the fashion world that Acronym limits its number of pieces on purpose to create artificial scarcity. In fact, there is so little of Acronym because it is so hard to make. It is very difficult to find a factory that can meet the technical criteria to produce it, Errolson explains to me while pouring himself a glass of Coca Cola. “There’s always a very specific reason for the things that we put in, and those things happen to be expensive, and that’s why it’s expensive. We’re not trying to create something purposefully scarce or purposefully luxurious, we’re just trying to make the best possible thing we can. It’s not a marketing strategy.”

Until 2009, Errolson and Michaela were the company’s only employees. They got so used to working by themselves and for themselves that when people started knocking at their door, they were surprised. Errolson wondered, “Wow, where did people get our number? Why do you call us?“ Even today, it is still kind of like that. There is no PR, no marketing, hardly any events. It was not simple to reach Errolson as he travels and focuses more on work than doing publicity. Yet the team has grown slowly over the years. “I basically hired all of my friends. We joked that all of the lost children of Berlin end up in our office. In other cities, people talk about being cool, because it’s actually a bankable commodity. The way they describe it, that kind of cool actually exists in Berlin as a real thing. People are legitimately cool here, and it’s not about knowing it. I think that also comes because it’s the least materialistic city I have ever lived in. People just aren’t about money. They just don’t care. I think that’s super healthy.”

Only in the past few years has the visibility of Acronym increased. One factor being the cultural shift in the industry in favor of their aesthetic and the rise of high fashion performance wear. Acronym pioneered the introduction of technology as its own category of design aesthetic, and their moves have paved the way for many brands’ ready-to-wear collections in recent seasons. Today, technology is one of the industry’s big trends, blending traditional sportswear with high fashion. Dubbed athleisure, active wear, or performance wear, it is casual clothing designed to be worn both for exercising and for day-to-day use in the cityscape. Fitness and athleticism has become one of the defining cultural paradigms of contemporary urban life, similar to the powers of street culture, that has turned the fashion world upside down in the last decade.

When I ask Errolson about his relationship to streetwear, he says it is hard for him to have an objective view on that, because he knows those guys, and through his work with Burton snowboards, way back in the day, met a lot of the people who invented what everybody calls streetwear today. In Tokyo, he met people like Nigo, Jun Takahashi, and Hiroshi Fujiwara. “Everything we take for granted as streetwear today,” the designer says, “started there organically. They’re all friends. They worked together. They invented the idea of collaboration.”

Acronym itself slowly began working with very carefully selected partners. After five to six years, they realized that trying to do it all by themselves was not possible. “You can’t change the industry as a single brand,” Errolson admits. Among the collaborations are well-established sportswear and streetwear brands that were part of Acronym’s growth. When Paul Harvey retired from his job as creative director at Stone Island, the Italian brand approached Errolson to be a part of that team, a partnership that gave birth to Stone Island Shadow Project. “That’s been super amazing because we get to do things ourselves,” Errolson says. “That’s the only collection we’ve ever worked on where you get to design not only the pieces but also the fabric of those pieces in the collection. They’re so up for trying different things, difficult things, and stuff no one else would even attempt. They’re like, ‘Yeah, let’s add these three processes on top of it and see what happens.’ And you just don’t get that anywhere else.“

Since 2013, Acronym has had another mutually successful partnership with Nike. Both brands worked together to create iconic sneakers, among them the Lunar Force 1 and recently the Presto Air, which has helped Nike develop an avant-garde feel and reach out to the premium menswear segment of the sneaker market. Both companies also worked together on another line, relaunching ACG (All Conditions Gear), Nike’s iconic mountaineering-inspired offering. “It’s the first time we’re really able to work at a scale where we can take an idea and put it on the street in a way that’s much more accessible to more people than we would with Acronym,” Errolson reflects. “Working with Nike means that you’re really working with pop culture. It’s not just a product or a collection. It’s so ingrained into so many people’s histories.”

When Errolson says this, we both glance at the hundreds of shoe boxes in the studio, holding the latest much-anticipated collaboration between Acronym and Nike. By the time the interview ends, the sun is down, leaving this part of the studio in the shade. It is hard to imagine that all the sneakers will be gone soon. Other parts of the studio show pieces of older Acronym collections and accessories, most of them designed from black materials. I ask him if that color is a fetish. “According to my dad, I used to wear all black when I was 10, which is kind of strange to me because that’s before Yohji and Comme des Garçons, which I never would have heard about anyways. He thinks it’s from being influenced by Arata Isozaki, who is a Japanese architect, which kind of makes more sense because there were definitely a lot more architecture books around. But with Acronym later, and the size of production that we used to do, black was the only color that all of the suppliers would have on stock, and that you could order and expect to look sort of okay. That’s why everything is black.”

Besides the underlying constants of dark colors, select materials, and a focus on functionality, in recent seasons, Acronym started to concentrate on pattern-making and how the garments move on the body. As with everything, Acronym takes its time. It’s a culture of methodical tactility. When Errolson mentions this shift, I am reminded of his karate gi and how it sensitized his perception of fashion and empowered him to become a better fighter. “That’s why fashion is so powerful,” Errolson says. “It’s that intersection of design, communication, and identity. It’s a large part of who you are, how you define yourself, how you present yourself to the world. So people definitely get attached to that. Plus, it’s just hard to find a pair of pants that fit you perfectly. It’s actually quite difficult.”

Before leaving his studio, I ask Errolson what was the last mind-opening thing he learned from someone. He tells me about his daughter and seeing her grow up: “It’s amazing to see somebody discover everything for the first time and it’s a good reminder that there can be magic in the most banal things.”

#acronym #acrnm #nikelab #stone island #ghost in the shell #攻殻機動隊 #blade runner #ブレードラーナー #altered carbon #when gravity fails #neuromancer #william gibson #cyberpunk #fashion #goretex #techwear

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cutiecrates · 4 years

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Cutie Reviews: Kawaii Box Oct 19

I have complex feelings today, on one hand I’m excited because the brand new Cooking Mama will be arriving. On the other, my mom had to go to the hospital again and I’m worried about her.

So basically... you could say I chose to do this now to bide time. Besides playing Animal Crossing and some heavy duty Spring cleaning.

Word of the month: Majyo/Majo- Witch

Event of the Month (besides Halloween): Taiku no Hi/Health and Sports Day. Which takes place October 14, the day before my birthday x3

“Everything you need to be a kawaii standout at a spooky party!“

Unicorn Cosmetics Bag

Our first item is this exclusive to Kawaii Box (or you can check their online shop Blippo.com) cosmetic bag, featuring the pastel color variant of the Kawaii Box print and a big, cute unicorn! It has a nice pink zipper on top and leather strap for easier carrying, and the inside has bright pink crinkly fabric lining; it feels like the fabric you use to avoid water damage.

The bag is of a decent size, so it would be perfect for carrying around some necessities to the store, in another bag or pack, or even if you just want to use it to help organize something in the home.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

I’m always looking for these in the boxes, because I tend to accumulate stuff from all of them and rather than keep every box I get, I can use these for the similar or smaller items I don’t have another place to put. Overall it’s very nicely made, and I really like it, I’m glad to see a variety of brand exclusive items in the box.

Koala’s March & Umaibo (not pictured)

I think we’ve all seen Koala’s March by now, right? I won’t be getting too into topic about these, but basically if you’re unfamiliar with them, they are little koala-shaped biscuits/cookies with Koala drawn on them and a thick, chocolate filling. They’re very yummy, and over the years there has even been a few different flavors, like strawberry. They each also come with a little Koala drawing you can collect on the top and bottom flaps. Koala’s March is also known for its benefits to the real Koala of the world :3 and it’s one of those few Japanese snacks you can easily find outside of Asian territories.

For Halloween, we have the basic chocolate. But these ones feature adorable Halloween-themed designs. You can also cut around the bottom to use it as a cup for holding things.

I had every intention of taking pictures of the various biscuits/cookies, but they were kind of smashed up and broken apart. Sometimes snacks just can’t handle travel very well, but I would highly recommend trying these if you never did. They’re very yummy.

- - - -

I’m sorry guys, but the umaibo that came with this months box was annihilated when I got to it. It would have been a messy picture and I didn’t think it was worth including. I don’t have much to say on it because I’ve reviewed several of the same Umaibo and this one was no different, because... it was...

CORN POTTAGE

If you’ve been reading my blog, you’ll know that its my MOST FAVORITE UMAIBO EVER. If you haven’t then now you do :P it’s so delicious~

Hattifattener Plushie

This silly looking creature is from the series Moomin, and it has come to celebrate Halloween with you. This is a 100% polyester made plush thickly filled with cotton. The hands are made from very soft fabric, and it has a long silver ball-chain.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

As simple as this is, I couldn’t think of something more ideal for Halloween than a ghost-like being such as this. I don’t really know anything about the Hattifattener, but it’s pretty cute looking. It’s very soft and plush, and while it has little detail, they are very clean and neat.

Halloween Party Stickers

Whether you’re attending or throwing a Halloween Party, journaling, drawing a picture for the month, or just collecting stickers. These ones are the perfect little touch of spooky cute ♥

For this box, we could get a couple variations of sticker sheets; like cute animals dressed up, ghosts, or this mix of Halloween spirits and icons like I got; such as Jack-o-Lanterns, bats, and some Japanese spirits like the Kappa, the umbrella ghost or long necked lady; there’s even a few Non-Halloween creatures, like a mermaid and genie. The stickers are also puffy, giving them that 3D-ish look.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

I love holiday-themed stickers x3 they’re always really fun to look back. As much as I don’t like repetitive designs on sticker sheets though, I’m not that bothered by it on this one because the repetitive ones are recolored or a bit different in style, rather than being the exact same printing repeat.

Ghost Heart Pin

Kawaii Box not only gave us one exclusive item, but two this month :D This is a cute accessory you could wear on person or attach it to a purse or something else if you really wanted to. I’m not sure if you can tell in this pic, but the pin is actually pretty big, about the size of my fist. It also seems to be of really good quality, and has a nice, solid response when you tap or hit it.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

I really got into collecting pins the past few years, so I’m excited to add another one to my collection.

Cat Teru Teru Bozu Pen

Teru Teru Bozu are ghostly looking objects one can make in order to keep away bad, rainy weather. So for this month, we have a kitty one who has come to make sure Halloween is at its best this year; unless you’re like me and keep it in the box, because it was pretty chilly and rainy this year.

The pen is an extremely basic clear tube with a black ink fine-tip. The kitty TTB can be sat aside, or you can put it on the pen butt so that it can keep you company while you write.

♥ ♥ ♥

As cute as the kitty is, I find the rest of the pen to be extremely repressed/plain/boring. But it works perfectly well, so it’s not like I wont use it, it’s just not in my top 10 list.

Shine Rainbow Bookmark

Our next item is this really pretty bookmark ♥ by Tree In Art, these came in various designs and colors and feature shiny, colorful flakes in various shapes; such as a star-themed one shown in the booklet, or this one that I got, featuring unicorns, sakura flower, flowers/snowflakes, and dots. There is also a small silk ribbon tied through the top for an additional touch.

I never heard of the brand TIA until I started seeing it in this box, and since then I have come to really like it! They have a variety of items as I’m learning, in all sorts of designs, such as casual fat kitties and narwhals, floral, and magical elements like mermaids and unicorns.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

I also really like reading, and for the past few years I’ve been obsessed with this yarn bookworm I got from a craft store, but its eyes have gone missing and I’m kinda tired of it, so this will be a lovely change of pace~

Glitter Star Hair Clip

I was the most excited about this item, so I’m very happy I can finally begin wearing it! These came in a few variations, each consisting of a clip covered in shiny deco flakes, and adorned by a large clear star filled with shiny star flakes and some others; such as the metallic shells mine has ♥

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

I’m completely in love with this~ It’s so pretty, and it’s not too decorative that it might look strange to wear, it’s just enough. The quality of the clip is also really good, and I love hearing the flakes inside shake around as I move my head or tap it.

It also really goes with my nails right now :3 its a win-win.

Colorful Scratch Notepad

This is our last item of the month, a fun little scratchpad. If you never seen these before, they are basically colorful, smooth pieces of paper or card stock covered in black material that you “scratch“ off to reveal your image in the color of the sheet.

This specific set comes with multiple pieces of rainbow, along with one gold sheet, and one silver.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

These are a really fun way to pass time if you like to draw or doodle. It’s also very relaxing, and this specific set is a dream because of how soft and easy it is to draw on the black stuff- the only downside is that because it’s not the usual smooth, gummy-ish paint-like substance that is really easy to remove, this one kinda smears like pencil would, so you might need to clean your hands after using it. I also wish we got an even amount of each color sheet.

♥ Cutie Ranking ♥

Content - 5 out of 5. I love everything, it’s so much fun! A couple of them might have been basic or plain looking, but they work fine/have good quality.

Theme - 4.5 out of 5. They were really close to getting a perfect score this time, but I felt like a couple of items didn’t really fit the spirit of the Halloween theme.

Total Rank: 9 out of 10 Cuties. I really liked this box, it especially excelled in comparison to the past few boxes this month and I enjoyed it. I’m in love with quite a few of the items, and I can’t wait to use them in full now!

♥Cutie Scale ♥

1. Star Clip - I’m going to wear this a lot :D I love it love it love it!

2. Bookmark - It’s so shiny and pretty to look at~ I adore it~

3. Unicorn Cosmetics Bag - I probably would have picked this as my top favorite item, if not for the fact I liked 2 more way more.

4. Ghost Pin - It’s pastel color scheme and heart shape are kawaii x3

5. Scratch Notepad - It’s very fun, I really like these. I actually own a couple of them, but none with pretty metallic sheets.

6. Halloween Stickers - They’re cute, even moreso than the ghost stickers we got last year~

7. Cat Teru Teru Bozu Pen - it’s cute, but also on the plain side. I really like the super-decorative pens more.

8. Hattifattener Plush - It’s plain looking but still kinda cute.

9. Umaibo - This almost felt painful to do because its so delicious, but with how messed up it was out of the package -edible or not- I didn’t feel like it earned a goo score.

10. Koala’s March - As yummy and cute as they are, once they’re gone they are gone you know?

#cutie reviews #kawaiibox #moomin

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doctortdesigns · 6 years

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The Winter/Holiday collection from Vogue Patterns is here, and on first impression I’m like, “Ok Vogue, take my money!” Of course, after taking the time to really comb through the patterns, I’ve calmed down a bit. While there are a few patterns I would like to join my stash, I certainly don’t need to bring all of them home with me. Still, there’s some fun stuff this release, so let’s take a look:

V1604 – Badgley Mischka. I really love the back of this dress. The detail is interesting and bold, but not overdone. The juxtaposition of the bold details with the soft silhouette creates a very interesting gown.

V1605 – Badgley Mischka. Vogue sneak peaked this on Instagram, and the close-ups of this outfit are gorgeous. The skirt has such a dramatic flare, and the beading on the cuffs of the top are a fabulous detail. Really classy holiday party look.

V1606 – Isaac Mizrahi. Personally, I like a dress with a bit more waist emphasis, BUT I can totally understand the appeal of such a loose fitting design for a holiday party centered around feasting. The sleeve ruffles are an interesting take on the current sleeve trend. I’m still sort of over the trend on the whole, but, this isn’t the worst of the crazy sleeves, so it gets a pass.

V1603 – Isaac Mizrahi. This is a cute combo for a holiday party. The sleeve ruffle on the coat is very of the moment trendy, but the dress is a pretty classic cut that would work well for years to come. The style itself could easily be made up in a more casual fabric for a cute summer look too, which makes this pattern pretty versatile.

V1602 – Paco Peralta. I like this pattern. The seaming is nice, and allows for lots of fit adjustments. It’s a very classic style, but somehow feels like an oddly modern mash up of vintage and 80s inspired looks. I don’t need it, but I like it.

V1600 – Bellville Sassoon. Ok, I sort of have a terrible weak spot for all Bellville Sassoon patterns, and this one is no different. LOOK AT THOSE CURVED SEAM DETAILS. Gorgeous! I’m obsessed. I want, nay, need this pattern to join the collection.

V1607 – Tom and Linda Platt. The pattern itself is pretty basic, with some asymmetric seams to add interest. Love the use of the monochromatic fabric blocking to create visual interest on an otherwise simplistic look.

V1606 – Anne Klein. I really like the style lines on that blazer; super sleek and modern but also quite classic and professional. The pants are quite tight, but presumably stretchy?

V1609 – Zandra Rhodes. It’s so fluffy! It’s pretty voluminous, but I somehow find the model photo oddly intriguing? I don’t need it, but I don’t dislike it as much as I expected to based on the line drawing.

V9350 – Very Easy Vogue. I really like this, but this is clearly a true wrap dress, which could be problematic to wear without a bit of flashing going on. Especially with the dress overlap cut on a diagonal (see the line drawing). It’s cute, but I don’t know if it is going to be worth potential wearing difficulties.

V9344 – Very Easy Vogue. Way too much sleeve. I sort of enjoy of view A looks like a cape in the stiffer fabric though.

V9349 – This wrap skirt brings all the drama! I really enjoy this, it makes me think of a tango ballroom costume.

V9346 – Vintage Vogue circa 1947. I really like this Vintage Vogue release. The back pleats on the dress are a gorgeous detail.

V9345 – Vogue Easy Options Custom Fit. When I saw the model photo I was like, ooooohhh no. But the line drawing actually showcases several really classic shirt dress styles. If you are looking for a really versatile shirtdress pattern, this could be a great option, especially with the Custom Fit cup sizing.

V1610 – Today’s Fit by Sandra Betzina. The kimono style jacket has been super popular lately, and this design has some nice features with the collar and belt options. I’d be more interested if I hadn’t picked up a few kimono patterns earlier this year.

V1608 – Koos van den Akker. Without the fabric art elements, this is a pretty basic jacket. But just look at that use of the forest fabric! Stunning.

V9351 – Vogue Wardrobe. Is it terrible to say I want this just for the jumpsuit? Because I want this just for the jumpsuit. It reminds me very much of the Rebecca Vallance jumpsuit, which I also loved. To be fair, the jacket has a cool collar, and the dress isn’t half bad either. But, really, it’s all about that jumpsuit.

V9342 – Claire Schaeffer Custom Couture Collection. Claire Schaeffer’s patterns are renowned for their detailed instructions, so if you like this pattern, it would totally be worth looking into.

V9352 – Marcy Tilton. If you like an unconstructed silhouette, these coats could be fun. I find I’m liking the style much more in the printed fabrics over the solid. The fabric overlap on the back of the pattern is quite interesting. I’d love to peak at the construction on this pattern.

V9354 – Vogue Accessories. Nothing super exciting, but if you are looking for a fancy scarf or wrap, Vogue’s got you covered.

V9343 – Very Easy Vogue. Ok, so rational brain knows that having such a deep-V front neckline is not something I’d want to wear, yet, the rest of brain is like “oooh pretty want!” I really like the look of this pattern – it’s simple, sexy, yet understated. Do I think I could wear it as is? No, not without inventing some super deep-V corset to sit under the rest of the dress. But I could probably close up the neckline a bit and make it more boob friendly. Do I need this pattern? No. But am I probably going to get it? Yes. Yes I am.

V9347 – Very Easy Vogue. Too. Much. Sleeve.

V9348 – As drawn, I’d give this top pattern a pass, but I think in a really soft, floaty fabric this shirt pattern could be very pretty. Hopefully we see some blogged versions because I’d really like to see this one made up on a person.

V1611 – Today’s Fit by Sandra Betzina. I feel like this is sort of a lot of fabric to sleep in, but otherwise it’s fine. The PJ pants look pretty quick to sew.

V9353 – Ron Collins. Cute! I love a puffer jacket for guys – it feels like a super practical style, and not too difficult to sew. This pattern is definitely joining the stash.

And that’s it! Going through it more thoroughly definitely let me get over the initial “ooh shiny” and be a bit more discerning in making my wish list. Of course, it doesn’t mean a fair bit of pretty didn’t get on the wishlist. Just, you know, not as much. What did you all think? Are you ready to grab a bunch of Vogue patterns to kickstart your holiday sewing? Or do these styles all feel stiff, dated, and stuffy? If you had a fancy holiday party to go to which pattern would you choose? Are there any must-haves in this release, or do you give it all a big pass? Feel free to discuss your thoughts in the comments!

Vogue Patterns Winter/Holiday 2018 #sewing #vogue #voguepatterns #winterholiday #sewingplans #patterns #fashion The Winter/Holiday collection from Vogue Patterns is here, and on first impression I'm like, "Ok Vogue, take my money!" Of course, after taking the time to really comb through the patterns, I've calmed down a bit.

#pattern #sewing #Vogue

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