#of course I did finally use multiple layers and different colors for each

[gothic-mothic-topic]

Behold, an actual drawing of my Bendy OC, Abby!

Sadly, I ditched the whole cat thing, which was honestly more of a quickly doodle for the April 1st event, and instead decided to revamp my old Bendy OC from a couple years ago.

She's more aimed towards the cartoons, and possibly Bendy and The Silent City once it comes out, but I might still make an ink realm design for her. Of course, I might tweak her a bit as time goes on, and I get better at drawing toons, but this is roughly how I'll be keeping her.

[blankwashed]

The moon hung low over the enchanted forest, casting an ethereal glow on the winding path leading to the hidden mansion. Shadows danced among the ancient trees, their whispers mingling with the night breeze. You were, cloaked in darkness and resolve, approached the opulent gates of Muzan Kibutsuji’s lair. Every step was calculated, each breath a silent prayer, as you ventured into the heart of danger, driven by a purpose that burned brighter than fear. Inside, the air was thick with an otherworldly presence, a testament to the power and mystery that awaited within.

You were undercover in Muzan’s lair as one of his disposable demons. Little did he know, you were there to uncover secrets about his past and his ultimate goals. You were actually part of the Demon Slayer Corps, on a mission to finally bring Muzan’s reign to an end and keep the Blue Spider Lily safe from his reach.

In order to gain his trust, you needed to go through multiple tests and, unfortunately, kill some slayers from the Corps during the initiation stage. Your leaders from the Corps assured you that it would be fine, as they would find a way to revive them if possible. The weight of your actions bore heavily on your conscience, but the mission’s importance steeled your resolve. Each test brought you closer to Muzan, peeling back the layers of his guarded existence, and inching nearer to the secrets that could bring his reign of terror to an end.

“Very well, my new servant. You’ve miraculously passed each of my tests with flying colors,” Muzan said while sitting on his lavish throne, embellished with rhinestones and gold.

Muzan got closer to you, grasping your chin with his cold hand. “I’m still watching you, y/n.”

You gulped silently and nodded your head. “I wouldn’t dare to be in your presence if I was one of those pesky Corps knuckleheads, would I?” you lied.

He chuckled at your response, finding it amusing that you would even dare to talk back to him. As if he were a fool?

“You’re fine for now, little minx. But if you were to even think about betraying my trust for one second…” He stopped and brought out a dark maroon vial. “This is the mixture of all the blood from the people who have betrayed me.”

It was oozing, the different blood types weren’t mixing with each other. It was a horrific sight. How did he put all of their blood into the vial?

The question lingered in your mind, but you dared not voice it aloud. Muzan’s gaze bore into you, his eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and malice as he held the vial up to the flickering torchlight. The crimson liquid inside seemed to pulse with a sinister energy, a grim reminder of the consequences of betrayal in Muzan’s world. You swallowed hard, steeling yourself against the chilling realization that your deception must be flawless to survive in the heart of darkness that surrounded you.

Muzan placed his golden staff to the side of his chair and proceeded to walk towards you. His icy cold hands wrapped around your luscious hair. He brought your hair to his nose and took a whiff.

“Mmm…lilies,” he said, with his eyes closed.

“I think I’ll call you Lily, to make it simple for all of us.”

You gulped, cheeks flushed. "Alright, master. I will be called Lily from now on. May I ask if it's your favorite flower?" you asked him, wanting to know more about the demon.

Muzan chuckled maniacally, "Actually, lilies are the flowers that people hate the most. They represent hatred, pride, and disdain despite being beautiful."

You shivered at his words, a strange mix of fear and excitement coursing through you. "I see," you whispered, your voice barely audible. Muzan's intense gaze never left your face, and you felt his power enveloping you, an invisible force you couldn't escape.

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "Do you know why I chose you, Lily?" he asked, his voice a low, dangerous purr.

You shook your head, your breath hitching as his hand brushed your cheek. "No, master." you replied, struggling to maintain your composure.

Muzan's lips curled into a sinister smile. "Because you possess a rare strength, a fire that intrigues me. You will serve me well, in more ways than one."

His touch trailed down your neck, sending shivers through your body. "Do you understand what I expect from you, Lily?" he murmured, his lips dangerously close to your ear.

Your heart raced, the anticipation and fear intertwining within you. "Yes, master," you managed to say, your voice trembling with a mix of submission and desire.

Muzan's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Good," he said, his tone dripping with dark promise. "You belong to me now, and I will mold you into the perfect companion. Your body, your soul, everything belongs to me now. " he said as his cold fingers caress your cheeks.

His hands moved to your shoulders, pulling you closer until your bodies were nearly touching. The heat of his proximity was intoxicating, and you felt yourself yielding to his dominance, ready to become whatever he desired.

"M-Mu-Master..." you stammered, your voice barely a whisper as his hands roamed your body, exploring with a possessive confidence.

Muzan's fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his piercing gaze. "What is it, Lily?" he asked, his tone commanding yet oddly tender.

Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions—fear, desire, and a desperate need to please him. "I-I want to serve you," you confessed, your cheeks burning with a mix of shame and longing.

His lips curled into a dark, approving smile. "That's exactly what I like to hear," he murmured, leaning in so close that you could feel his breath on your skin. "But words alone are not enough."

You nodded, understanding his unspoken command. "I will do whatever you ask, master," you promised, your voice steadying with resolve.

Muzan's hand slid down your arm, his touch both gentle and firm. "Show me, then," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"Show me your devotion."

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. Slowly, you let your hands trace the contours of his pale chest, feeling the powerful muscles beneath the fabric of his clothes. Muzan's breath hitched slightly, a sign that you were on the right path.

Emboldened, you continued your exploration, your fingers dancing over his body with increasing confidence. Muzan's hands gripped your waist, pulling you even closer. "Good, Lily," he praised, his voice a low growl. "Keep going."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you obeyed, every touch and caress a testament to your submission and desire. Muzan's eyes never left yours, watching your every move with a predatory intensity that made your pulse quicken.

In that moment, you knew there was no turning back. You were his, and you would do anything to prove your loyalty and devotion to your dark master.

Your hands moved with deliberate care, exploring the contours of his body, while your mind focused on your ultimate goal. Were you? It was hard for you to balance what your purpose was when he was pleasing you and giving you almost everything you've wanted.

Muzan's grip on your hair loosened as he leaned back, giving you the space to continue your actions. He had a pleased look on his face. The tension in the room was a mixture of desire and danger.

Widening your mouth and taking more of him in while gawking, Muzan was pleased. His eyes remained locked on you, watching every move you made. "Impressive, Lily, You might just earn your place by my side after all."

You forced a smile, wiping your saliva off your face. "Thank you, my Lord. I will always strive to please you."

Weeks have passed, and you have been getting close and closer to Muzan. Understanding him on a personal level at this point. Knowing his needs and wants, a lots of his dislikes, you could even write a storybook on him if you wanted to. You also became his favourite concubine.

Concubine? Yes, concubine.

It wasn't a shock when you found out that there were many send to him like you, waiting for his attention or touch. Every night, he would choose one or more to satisfy his desires and you had quickly learned how to navigate the treacherous world of jealousy and competition, even as demons. Despite the danger and constant fear of being discovered, you had managed to rise above the others, gaining Muzan's favor.

One evening, you sat beside him, Muzan's eyes flickered with a rare softness he only shows to you. "Lily, you have proven yourself time and time again. You are different from the others."

You lowered your gaze, hiding the satisfaction in your eyes. "Thank you, my Lord. I am honoured to serve you."

He gently lifted your chin, forcing you to look into his piercing eyes. "Tell me, Lily. What do you desire? You had given me so much valued companionship. What can I give you in return?"

Your heart raced. This was an opportunity, a rare moment where you could plant the seeds for your ultimate goal. "My Lord, all I desire is to be by your side, to learn from you and to be useful to you in every way possible."

Muzan's lips curled into a smile. "Very well, my lovely flower. I will grant you this. but remember, my trust is not easily earned and can be lost even more quickly. Do not disappoint me."

"I would never dream of it," you replied, your voice steady.

As weeks turned into months, your position beside Muzan grew more secure. You were his confidante, his favourite and the other concubines eyed you with a mix of envy and fear. You were starting to lose sight of your mission. The information you gathered, the trust you built were all for nothing in the end.

One night, as you lay beside Muzan giving him a massage, he spoke in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper. "My beautiful Lily, do you believe in fate?"

You were taken aback at the sudden question. "I believe that we shape our own destinies, my Lord."

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with your answer. Muzan cracks his neck while staring at you. "Lily, you've made me turn so soft for you. You know that? Can I be hard on you this time?" he said and started to massage your breasts over your clothing.

"Yes, my Lord..." you whispered, your voice betraying your original purpose of getting closer to him.

Muzan's lips twisted into a wicked smile. "Good. Stand up." he said as he gave a spank to your ass, watching it jiggle.

"You've pleased me greatly, Lily." he said, his voice low and filled with a mixture of praise and threat. "But I need to see just how far your loyalty truly goes."

He moved closer, his hand trailing down your arm, sending shivers through you. "Tonight, I want you to surrender completely to me. No reservations, no hesitation. Do you understand?" he said as he gropes your ass cheek.

"Y-Yes, Lord Muzan.." you replied, shakingly, trying to keep your voice steady.

Muzan's hand tightened around your waist, pulling you against him. "Good. Because if you fail me, there will be consequences."

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. You knew that this was another trial, another chance too prove your loyalty. As you slowly began to unbutton his shirt, your fingers trembled slightly. Each button revealed more of his pale, muscular chest and you couldn’t help but get wet.

“Good girl…” he praised softly, his hand moving to caress your cheek. “But I need more from you. I need all of you.”

As you stripped way the layers of his clothing, Muzan’s hands roamed over your body, exploring and claiming you. Each touch, spank, squeeze, slap was a reminder of his dominance, of the power he held over you. You responded to his touches with moans, allowing him to guide you.

“That’s it, slut,” he murmured, his voice a mix of approval and desire. “You’re doing so well for your lord.”

You nodded, meeting his gaze. “Thank you, my Lord.”

With that, Muzan pulled you closer, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss. The intensity of it took your breath away, and you clung to him.

As the night progressed, you surrendered yourself to him, giving him everything he demanded. You pushed aside your fears and focused solely on the task at hand,

to be his precious little slut.

When it was over, Muzan lay beside you, his breath heavy. He turned to you, a satisfied smile on his lips. “You’ve proven yourself once again, Lily. You truly are my favourite.”

You were exhausted but you smiled back, your heart pounding in your chest. “Thank you, my Lord. It is an honour to serve you.”

Muzan’s pale hand moved to your hair, stroking it gently. “Rest now, my love. You’ve earned it.”

As you closed your eyes, exhaustion washed over you. You knew that your deed was done, that the reason why you came here in the first place was accomplished but now you saw that you have a different problem.

You were starting to fall in love with the King of Demons.

[glowandtell]

Trying The Morning Shed: When Did SkinCare Turn Into A Full- Time Job?

A girl's Olympic sport, simply put, is her winding up for the day with her mighty skincare products—using a cleanser, followed by an overnight hydrating face mask, then putting on a bonnet, a chin strap, and taping her mouth while sleeping on her back. All this just to wake up with the perfect glazed donut skin in the morning. This elaborate routine is a new viral phenomenon where Gen Z skinfluencers layer multiple products before going to bed. It's a high-maintenance routine that keeps you low-maintenance. I decided to give this trend a try by following a morning shed routine for 15 days.

How the "Morning Shed" Became the Latest "It" Thing in Skincare

The "Morning Shed" trend blew up on TikTok when content creators started broadcasting on the screen and would "shed" the excessive amount of wellness products that they had slept in the night before. This includes wellness products ranging from eye masks, wrinkle patches, hair rollers, chin straps, overnight face masks, pimple patches, wrinkle patches, lip stains, and LED masks etc.

Many creators like Michaela Berdaga (@MichaelaBerdaga) have partaken in this trend. A video was uploaded by Michaela Berdaga with the caption, "The uglier you go to sleep, the prettier you wake up." But this intense viral routine has many, including me, wondering- to feel your best in the morning, do you really need this routine? Or is it just another excuse for our overconsumption?

Is The Morning Shed Worth It?

My morning shed routine included cleansing my face, followed by using actives like Vitamin C and Niacinamide, the hydrating collagen face mask by Medicube, Milani lip stain, and Velcro hair rollers.

PROS:

1.Hydrated Skin: By layering hydrating products like a niacinamide serum followed by the hydrating collagen face mask by Medicube, my skin felt more hydrated and supple throughout the day. This was especially beneficial for me as I struggle with dry skin.

2.Structured Morning Routine: Following this morning shed routine every morning without fail made me feel and look more put together for the day and even gave me an extra thirty minutes as I didn’t feel the need to apply makeup the next day after following the morning shed.

3. No Need for Makeup: The addition of the Milani lip stain in my morning shed routine helped me have the right amount of sheer color on my lips. This helped me feel confident without needing any heavy makeup.

4.Shiny and Bouncy Hair: The overnight Velcro rollers helped me achieve a shiny and salon-like bouncy blowout look without needing to use any heat.

CONS:

1. Uncomfortable to Sleep In: As the morning shed routine required me to sleep with several beauty tools like a face mask and Velcro rollers, it was quite uncomfortable to sleep in and affected my quality of sleep during the course of these 15 days.

2.The Results Were Not Long-Lasting: Some of the results that I had achieved by following this routine were not long-lasting. The glow I had achieved from the collagen face mask disappeared after a few hours, which made me question if it was worth the effort.

3. May Not Suit Acne-Prone Skin: This trend required using a lot of products in your routine. As they say, more is not always better. If your skin type is sensitive and acne-prone like mine, then it may cause clogged pores.

My Final Verdict?

Every other day, there is a new trend on SkinTok. The influencer who tells you that you need to follow this meticulous morning shed routine will be the same person telling you that you are ruining your skin with a complicated skincare regime.

So, the right way to go about this is by understanding your skin type and following a routine that works best for you because we are all different and each have separate skin concerns.

For more information or any questions regarding this blog. Please contact glowandtell@gmail.com

[sandibullock]

I was wondering if you could do a tutorial on this gifset that you did i really like ittt

Thank you for sending this in, anon! I’m glad you liked it and wondered how it was made :) Fun fact: the day before you sent this, I had just started working on my next set in that “Select Filmography” series. I hope you like that one too when it’s ready!

I think I should start by saying I’m pretty new to giffing myself and there might be more efficient ways of getting to the same result. However, the point here is to show you the process I went through to make this gifset and hopefully help you understand how to make a similar one.

To follow this tutorial, you will need some version of Photoshop and some giffing knowledge. I know there are multiple ways of making gifs so I’m just letting you know I’m using the timeline and the “Convert for Smart Filters” option (I don’t really know how else to call it).

Now let’s get started!

STEP 1 - CHOOSE THE SCENES

It might sound obvious but, in my opinion, this is the most crucial step. It’s also the one that takes the longest (along with step 7, aka the coloring).

At this stage, you need to have a general idea on how you want your set to look like so you can choose the scenes accordingly. In my case, I knew I needed two types of shots for each movie: one close-up for the main gif and one mid shot for the shape. I also needed to take two other criteria into consideration: the movement (because of the shape) and the lighting (because darker scenes are such a pain to color). Last but not least, I didn’t want the characters to be talking (but that’s just a personal preference).

With all of that in mind, you can start saving a few screenshots of scenes that meet your criteria (or at least some of them). In the end, there won’t be that many to choose from so be prepared to make compromises.

STEP 2 - MAKE A DRAFT

Now that you’ve preselected a few scenes, you can make a first draft. This will help you turn your general idea into something more concrete.

Basically, this is your opportunity to organize your thoughts. What size do you want your gifs to be? What shape are you going to use? On which side do you want the close-ups to be? Do you want all of them to be on the same side or do you want to alternate from one gif to the other? Do the scenes you chose work together (gif-wise but also set-wise)? Are you happy with the way it looks, overall?

By answering all of the questions you might have now, you’ll save yourself a lot of time, trust me. Of course, you can totally skip this step if you already know exactly which scenes you’re going to use and how you’re going to present them together.

To give you an idea, this is what my draft looked like for Atomic Blonde.

STEP 3 - PREPARE YOUR GIFS

Once you have a clearer view on how you want your set to look like, you can finally start giffing like you usually would (i.e. importing, cropping, resizing, etc.).

It should then look something like this.

The important thing to mention here is that you want both of your gifs to be the same number of frames (32, in my case).

Ideally, you should also aim for the ~same~ coloring (especially for the skin tone, since both gifs will be so close to each other). This bit is particularly difficult when you chose scenes which have opposite lighting (see my two uncolored gifs below). Remember how I insisted on steps 1 and 2? It was to help you avoid this. So my advice would be not to choose these types of contrasted scenes, unless you can’t do otherwise and you’re ready to suffer!

STEP 4 - MAKE YOUR SHAPE

To make your shape, you can click right on the Shape Tool (U) and select the last one, Custom Shape Tool. From the Shape menu appearing on top, you will be able to choose the shape you want from the drop down list and start drawing on your gif.

To be more precise with the dimensions, you can manually adapt the length and height from the Shape menu itself. I decided to go with the same ones as my gif.

Once your shape is positioned like you want it to be, you can drag and drop the shape layer under your gif. Next, you will have to click right on the gif layer/smart filter and select Create Clipping Mask. The result is as below. Note that if the size of your shape was smaller than your gif, you would still be able to reposition your gif with the Move Tool (V).

You can now export your shape gif, reopen it in Photoshop and convert it again to the video timeline and to a smart filter. This is where I’m not sure it’s the most efficient way of doing things but it’s the only way I found to keep the coloring of each gif separate. I also find it easier to work with a smart filter.

STEP 5 - COMBINE YOUR GIFS

To add your shape gif to your main gif, you can simply click right on the shape gif you just reopened and select Duplicate Layer. You can then choose the project which contains your main gif to duplicate it in there. Now go to your main gif and reposition your shape gif where you want it to be (how many times did I say gif here?). Finally, you can draw a new shape, using the same dimensions as in step 4, reposition it and choose any color you want from the Shape menu.

Since you will be repeating this process with your following gifs, I suggest you add a few guides so you know exactly where you should place everything to make all of your final gifs look the same.

(In case you’re wondering, the “Base” folder contains my adjustment layers/basic coloring for the main gif.)

STEP 6 - ADD THE TITLE

This step is pretty simple: go on the web and type “[name of the movie] title”. Download the png you like most, open it in Photoshop and resize it to a length of about 150-200 pixels. Next, duplicate the layer to your main gif and reposition it. In case you need to resize it again, select the title layer and go to Edit > Free Transform (Ctrl+T).

This is optional but in case you want to change the way it looks, know you can always duplicate the title layer and play with the blending options (see below). The good thing with a png is that you can also add some effects by clicking on the “fx” button.

STEP 7 - ADD COLORING (OPTIONAL)

To be honest, I had not planned on coloring my gifs. But I had already spent so much time on them and I was still unhappy with the way they looked. I mean, see how grey-ish they are? Not great...

So the only thing left for me to do was to add some colors. Now, since coloring is worth a tutorial on its own and it already exists, I suggest you read through becca’s mega coloring tutorial (and especially steps 3 & 5). Seriously, shoutout to her for making this incredibly useful tutorial. She is so talented and I love everything she makes!

My Atomic Blonde gif barely even needed coloring so I’ll show you what I did for my Tully and The Old Guard gifs.

For the first one, once I had found which colors to use with which blending option and opacity level, I only had to remove the colors from the left side of the gif because there was barely any movement in that scene (phew!). For the second one, on the other hand, I decided to color frame by frame because there was way more movement, in comparison. This is quite a tedious process, which is why you want to limit yourself to a certain amount of frames.

I’ll conclude by saying there are so many things you can do with coloring and what works with one scene might not work with another. So experiment with it: try different colors, play with the blending options and opacity levels, add some gradients and/or gradient maps, etc. Just know it will take some time to get to a somewhat satisfying result!

And that’s it... I hope this tutorial made sense and was somehow helpful. Of course, don’t hesitate if you have any questions! Also, if you do end up making a similar edit, pleeease send me the link or tag me in the replies or something ‘cause I would definitely love to see it!!

[beccanoodles]

Spike and Faye Pairing Analysis

March 2021

Ah the hit or miss pairing of the century! If you don’t love it, you probably hate it lol. I’m a very analytical person so I love analyzing works of art and overall enjoy deep discussions about them too. I have SO much to say when it comes to Cowboy Bebop (and oh I plan to), but I have decided to start with my very own OTP. Here, I am not really going to discuss Spike and Faye’s feelings for each other, but rather why I think people are drawn to this pairing and why I think they're totally valid. Get ready for a long read!😁

⚠️SPOILER WARNING!!! [Major Cowboy Bebop and the movie Out of the Past spoilers]⚠️

First off, let’s clear something up. I am confident most of us can agree that Spike was in love with Julia. Some people assume Spike and Faye fans are deranged and disregard Spike and Julia’s romantic relationship to try and make something of Spike and Faye that never was. While some people may have their various theories and opinions on this, generally, I don’t think anyone denies Spike’s love for Julia. As we will see, this pairing is not really driven by who loves who...let’s first look on the surface.

I don’t know your experiences with the series, but in mine, every time I show this to people it never fails for someone to say something along the lines of,

“Wait, they don’t end up together?”

“Why didn’t he kiss her!?”

“He should have stayed with her...”

and so fourth. 

Naturally, this pairing catches many eyes. 

Think about it, you are given two really cool, really hot and really deep characters that are really fun to see together! There are so many parallels between the two and they are arguably the strongest characters of the bunch. Granted, you can agree with this and still not ship them, but these aspects are part of what opens up the door for many fans of the pairing.

However, there is certainly more to this pairing than them simply looking good together right? As the years pass and I’ve now seen the show multiple times, my understanding of it has evolved in many areas, Spike and Faye included. 

Spike and Faye really couldn’t have ended up together. Sure, it’s a nice thought, but It would have been an entirely different show if they had. I don’t feel that the show should have happened any other way and I don’t think many other fans would either. 

So, what am I saying here?

What’s the point of this paring if I don’t think they should have ended up together? 

It is what's so frustrating about them, yet keeps you coming back and what honestly validates this pairing in my opinion. Spike and Faye are not driven by what is, but rather, what could be.  

I personally feel the themes of classic film Noir are not discussed enough when it comes to Cowboy Bebop! This is one of the show's major influences, especially when it comes to the plot and characters.

One of the common tropes of a film noir is that of a protagonist who is drawn back into his past and ultimate doom, usually by the “seduction” of a femme fatale. In these movies, the women are either a femme fatale [devious, dangerous, mysterious, greedy, troubled, or unreliable] or a woman of virtue [reliable, dutiful, trustworthy, conventional and loving]. 

I am going to use the 1947 classic, Out of the Past to make my comparisons from here on out.

In Out of the Past, Jeff is a former detective who gets caught up in a love triangle between a gangster and his girlfriend Kathie, sound familiar? He attempts to run away with her, but is betrayed and runs off to start a new life in a new town. Here, he meets Ann and falls in love with her, but of course, his past catches up to him and he is drawn back into the world of criminals (largely by Kathie’s involvement). This ultimately results in his and Kathie’s deaths and Ann’s heartbreak. 

Even though Kathie is the femme fatale in this movie, I found myself comparing her more to Julia’s role in the show, than to Faye’s and I found that Faye actually fit best in Ann’s role (this is a bit unusual considering Faye is typically seen as the femme fatale of this show).

Does that mean I think Julia was as ill intentioned as Kathie or that Spike fell in love with Faye? Well, not exactly, let’s look at it a bit further.

“The kind of beautiful, dangerous ordinary that you just can’t leave alone...Like an angel from the underworld or a devil from paradise.”

Most of what we get about Julia is from Spike’s point of view. From this, we learn she is at the center of Vicious and Spike’s conflict, but aside from that she is basically depicted as “The Virtuous Woman” of a noir. The colors around her are warm and she is shown caring for Spike. There is an innocence and modestly about her as well.

Yet, when we finally do meet Julia, we get a different image. We know she is tied up with dangerous men, but is she herself a dangerous woman?

She is certainly capable of betrayal. 

Suddenly she is a bad-ass-gun-toting woman in leather and black, surrounded by hues of grey and dark blue. Intentional or not, Julia is a major part of what lures Spike back into the past and ultimately to his death. In this case, Julia is the femme fatale of Spike’s story and thus, their relationship is doomed from the start.

Faye, on the other hand, is portrayed in somewhat of a contrast. When we first meet her, she is the clear cut femme fatale, appearing cunning, strong willed and seductive. However, we soon find that she has quite a bit of kindness and naivety hidden behind her facade. She uses the former tactics as a way of emotional (and probably physical) protection. Gren points this out in his conversation with her. 

Gren, 

“You’re just afraid they’d abandon you so you abandoned them. You distanced yourself from the whole thing.”

As the show progresses, we start to see less of her “femme fatale nature” and something more genuine. Think about it, between Hard Luck Woman and RFB Part 2 we don’t see much of Faye as her typical conniving or unreliable self, aside from changing the course of the Bebop maybe. Sure she takes off, but it isn’t at all for the same reasons she did in Jupiter Jazz or Speak Like a Child, for example. 

I would argue we actually see her more trustworthy and caring than ever. Since I don’t want to spend too much time talking about Faye’s character development (not here at least) I’ll give one example of this. 

When she returns to the Bebop after her encounter with Julia in RFB Part 1, she gives Spike the message, even though the outcome might hurt her (i.e. he leaves and/or dies). While she does first say “It’s gonna cost you,” she doesn’t really mean it because she tells him without hesitation only moments later.

This isn’t to say Faye good, Julia bad. Both women have their layers and even though we know way more about Faye, I don’t get the impression that Julia is selfish and cunning like Kathie was. But I do get the feeling she was enclosed in a world of crime and betrayal the way Kathie was. We really only know the basics of Spike and Julia’s situation. Who knows the details like motive or how long it lasted etc. etc. We can only speculate...

There is a scene towards the end of Out Of The Past, where Kathie tells Jeff to go away with her. This time it is her asking him, just like Julia asks Spike. During this she mentions,

“I never told you I was anything but what I am, you just wanted to imagine I was. That’s why I left you.”

This got me thinking...did Spike imagine Julia as something she wasn’t? Or something he wanted her to be that she just couldn’t be? 

It could explain why we get such contrasted images of her.

There are themes of this “dreamlike” relationship between Jeff and Kathie, similar to Spike and Julia’s “It was all a dream.”

The two of them were going to “live and be free,” probably something neither of them knew how to do and most likely wouldn’t have been able to get away with.

When Jet asks Spike if he can just forget the past, this is his answer.

Spike,

“There was a woman. For the first time in my life I saw a woman that was truly alive. At least that’s what I thought. She was the part of me I had lost, that part that was missing, that I had been longing for.”

I always wondered about this, because Spike is clearly talking about Julia, but right after is when Faye shows up. To me, that spoke volumes...

Faye is a woman who is terribly human and terribly alive.

Going back to Faye and Ann, I find their similarities shine not so much in the “Virtuous Woman,” concept, but rather in Ann’s dedication to Jeff and her optimism for the future. She is also the last person to talk to Jeff before he leaves for the final time, as if he were being presented with one last alternative. Spike spends his last moments with Faye as well, in which she basically begs him not to go and keep him in the present that she has now discovered for herself. She may be stuck, but she is definitely someone that yearns for human connection, love, and life.

The problem is, Spike and Faye are both set in opposite directions. Her’s leads to a future and Spike knows this because he points it out early on (My Funny Valentine). He also knows, his most likely does not. He has already dug himself too deep into this hole, if you will, that there is really no turning back. 

But let’s say none of that was an issue? What could be?

I sat and watched this movie (Out of the Past) with my mom. She didn’t know anything about it and didn’t know why I was watching it. I wanted her genuine reaction. The whole time she was getting mad at Jeff until the very end. I asked her why and she said that she wanted him to be able to live happily with Ann. I explained to her why he had to do what he did. She understood this, but still couldn’t help but be sad at how things turned out for him, when they could have been good.

Even though Kathie and Jeff are the “lovers,” of this movie, you don’t really want them to end up together. Forget that Kathie has a devious nature, regardless, you know where it has to end and you don’t want to see your hero die.

Like Kathie, Julia symbolizes Spike’s inevitable doom and Like Ann, Faye symbolizes his possible future. 

“I’ll be with you till the end”

                           “You’re the one still tied to the past Spike!”

                                                               “Why do you have to go? Where are you going? What are you gonna do, just throw your life away like it was nothing?!”

It’s two sides of a sad coin...

We want Spike to have a future and because we love the characters of the show, it would be really great if he could have it with them, but that is where the tragedy is. It's only an idea we can think about, a possibility presented to us as it was to Jeff and Spike before their deaths.

The bottom line is, when it comes to Spike and Faye you are really only given a taste. You are not given what you expect to see, which is why I say this ship is driven by what could be. As it is with most of the character relationships in the show, no major breakthroughs are made until the very end, when it's too late. Then it just feels like such wasted potential, but sometimes in life, that's how it is. And thus, we have been given a very classic noir here ladies and gentlemen!

So no, I don’t think people miss the mark when they ship Spike and Faye, nor do I find they invalidate the show by any means. I kind of like that Watanabe switched it up and didn’t do the expected, but left us those subtle hints. He didn’t outright give Spike another lover, but he gave us someone that represents what he could have. Kind of does that with the crew as a whole too!

UGH. I love-hate this show and I love this pairing! Thank you for reading my thoughts and I know this may not be the case or reasoning for everyone, but just based on what I have seen around the community and where this show draws inspiration, this is what I have concluded. I didn’t get into Spike and Faye’s feelings for each other because it gets a little more theoretical there, but I would like to do a post on my thoughts on that as well sometime. I also didn’t touch too much on Spike’s reasoning for choosing to face Vicious in the end, just because I know that will only lead into a whole other analysis lol. But you know I have my thoughts on that and certainly plan to share them 😎 Also, I know I basically spoiled it, but Out of the Past is such a great movie!! I think if you’re a fan of this show it's definitely worth a watch! There are so many more parallels to Cowboy Bebop that I didn’t even mention. Anyways, thanks again and talk to you soon!

[deijnar]

The only one who makes me nervous

Incredible but true - I wrote something! And am posting it!

This is my piece for the great @mysme-rbb and I got to collaborate with @braincellbank, definitely check their artwork out! The CMC used in this is theirs ^-^

You can also find the fic on Ao3!

So here goes a lot of fluffy, cute Jaehee pining~

╰⊱♥⊱╮●╭⊱♥≺

With suspicion, Jaehee squints her eyes at the ingredients on the countertop of her and Lila's brand new cafe. After months of preparation and an almost breakdown when she asked them to become her partner for this adventure, Jaehee's dream finally comes true - a cute, domestic yet elegant cafe that she owns with her best friend.

But…

"There was more chocolate."

Lila's eyes widen and they furrow their eyebrows, looking at the potential crime scene as well. "Huh? What do you mean?" They check the scale. "It's the exact amount we need for the recipe."

Jaehee shakes her head, looking at the pieces in the bowl. "I could have sworn I put more in there…"

"You're probably just nervous! We're about to bake our very first cake for the cafe, isn't it exciting?" 

The way they beam at Jaehee makes her chest feel warm and her knees go a little weak, causing Jaehee to forget what she was just thinking about entirely.

"That must be it, I'm sure you're right. This is what I've dreamed of for a very long time, I feel all… fluttery inside." To hide her soft chuckle, Jaehee turns her head away a little and shields her mouth with one of her hands. Showing emotion is still… foreign to her and she is still shy about it.

Lila clicks their tongue in disapproval. "Now come over here and let me see that stunning face of yours, we have work to do! I'm all excited for this too but I'm waiting for the proper view." Demanding, they motion to the space across from them, followed by a little wink.

As all of Lila's teasing does, their comment makes Jaehee's heart hiccup in her chest, a too familiar heat already painting her cheeks in a soft blush. There’s only one way to deal with them when they get like that…

Speaking Korean, especially if the sentences are long and spoken fast, is the only way for Jaehee to feel like she is still somewhat in control when she is around Lila. Given that Korean is not their first language and they’re still learning, they tend to get really sheepish when they don’t understand something. And, for Jaehee, it’s the only weapon she has to not let Lila’s boldness knock her out. 

Normally, she speaks English around them or slow, easy Korean. But not in moments like this.

“If only you knew what you’re doing to me with such behavior…” 

Jaehee keeps her voice low and talks fast, even a fluent speaker would have had trouble to understand her.

“What was that?” The cocky grin on their face immediately shrinks to a shy expression and Jaehee can’t help but feel a little guilty, although relieved. 

Of course she hates it to make her friend feel insecure, she wants to make them feel just as strong and support them just as much as they do for her. But sometimes she has to do this, only to not combust due to the hidden feelings in her heart.

“Oh, nothing. Let’s start baking.” With a somewhat apologetic smile, she walks up to Lila and stands on the other side of the countertop, looking at the instructions in front of her. Now, she has to fire Lila’s confidence in themself again. “How about you start with the dough while I try out these decorations? Your doughs always turn out amazing.” The proud gleam in Lila’s eyes that Jaehee likes to see so much is back immediately. “They do indeed. What are you making?” Curiously, they get to their tiptoes, trying to get a peek of the picture she is holding. “Some flowers.” Calculating, she leans her head to the side, inspecting the pictures as well, lowering the piece of paper so it's easier for Lila to see. “I’ve never tried to make these before but I wanted to set myself a challenge. Hopefully, they’ll turn out fine.” “I’m sure they’ll turn out perfect. Like you.” One of Lila’s hands lands on Jaehee’s cheek, presumably for encouragement, and Jaehee can practically feel their chuckle as she straightens as if the touch burned her skin. Which it really seems to do, given how hot she feels all of a sudden. “Y-yes. I… Maybe. Yes, I’ll do my best.”

Not knowing what else she could possibly say that wouldn’t give away how fast her heart is beating, Jaehee gets to work. She presses her lips together and tries to ignore Lila’s gaze she can clearly feel on herself as she begins to knead and color the fondant. 

Luckily, Lila decides to be merciful and not make any more comments that get Jaehee out of her concentration, maybe so they can get to work as well. 

It doesn’t take the young woman long to forget everything around herself as she fully focuses on the task at hand. She gets lost in the thrill of trying new, challenging things and the rewarding feeling when an experiment with one of her utensils works out, giving the flowers as they are described in the instructions her own twist. One petal after the next is formed and, after some time, Jaehee finds a routine, the activity having a quite calming and almost meditative effect on her. 

Her thoughts wander.

And, as they do so very often, they wander to the wonderful person standing in front of her right now. 

It’s been a few months since they’ve met, got to know each other and even ended up as close as they are right now. Not much, in Jaehee’s opinion, and yet she can barely recall a time where Lila hasn’t been in her life, much less can or does she want to imagine a future without them. They have saved her from her monotone, stressful life that never would have gained her any kind of happiness and turned it upside down. They have turned it into an unpredictable, exciting adventure, the only goal being to chase their dreams and find joy. Together.

Never again does Jaehee want to be without Lila’s stirring presence that doesn’t only bring spice but also light into her life.

Of course it hadn’t been easy for Jaehee to admit to herself that she’d fallen in love. Of course she had been scared of rejection, of the possible heartbreak. Of the risks that come with loving someone so deeply, even after such a short period of time, only falling deeper for their captivating soul more and more with every passing day. 

But no matter how strong her fears had been, by that, they only became the evidence for her feelings for Lila. And finally, after multiple sleepless nights, Jaehee had not only faced the truth that she’s helplessly lost her heart to the best friend she’s ever had, she also came to the conclusion that all of this turmoil is worth it. That the nagging fear is nothing compared to the exciting tingle that runs from the center of her stomach through her entire body as soon as Lila walks into the room. That a possible heartbreak is a price she is willing to pay, as long as she gets to feel the way she does for a little while longer every time Lila smiles at her, only her.

And now, they’re working together, they’re partners. Maybe they’ll never be more than that, friends and partners, but Jaehee knows that, at least, they will always be together. Even if she should slip one day - Lila won’t just leave her for the way she feels. In that, Jaehee trusts unconditionally. In Lila, she trusts unconditionally.

Before she knows it, she’s used up the last bit of fondant, has created the last flower for the day. Proudly, Jaehee looks down at the decorations in front of her, all kinds of blossoms in many different colors, shades and sizes spreading out on the table. 

"I did it!" The excitement in her voice is very clear and maybe, normally, she would try to conceal it to keep her countenance. But right now, she's way too happy and feels way too safe and comfortable with Lila to even care.

"I knew it!" There's some flour on Lila's cheek as they grin at Jaehee. "I told you they'll look perfect. You did it!"

Far from sick of looking at her own creations, Jaehee smiles down at the sugary decoration in front of her again. Then, she turns her head up to look at Lila again, unaware of the fact that her friend had just started leaning forward to peck her cheek. 

Lila's lips land on the corner of Jaehee's mouth and she freezes. Time seems to stop and so does her heartbeat.

As to be expected, Lila isn't fazed by it at all. On the contrary, they seem to enjoy it quite a lot judging by the amused grin on their face and the fact that they stay much closer than they'd need to. They're not even saying anything and yet Jaehee feels like she will be reduced to an inarticulate, blushy mess in mere seconds. 

There’s nothing she can do but pointedly look to the side to stop her brain from short-circuiting. No matter how much she wants to look at her stunning friend, she can’t, knowing that, if she would, she couldn't rip her eyes off the lips she so badly wants to feel on hers.

And at that moment, there's just one thing Jaehee can do.

"While investing in the stock market, it's very important to maximize the possible outcome for your transaction while simultaneously minimizing the risk you take."

Although she's speaking her native tongue, Jaehee stumbles over her own words with how quickly she is saying them. Also, she's not even sure if what she just said actually makes sense.

Yet, the words have the effect she was desperately hoping for - Lila softly shakes their head, the threateningly teasing expression on their face making way for utter confusion as they subconsciously draw back a few inches.

Jaehee hates it as much as it makes her feel relieved.

"What?"

"Nothing!" Quickly, Jaehee turns to face the table again, unnecessarily starting to sort the flowers still laying there by size. If she's confronted with that gorgeous face any longer, she won't be able to hold back anymore. "We should-"

Before she can bring up her suggestion to give the cake more layers than they'd originally planned, Lila gently places their hand on hers on the table between them. 

If she is honest to herself, Jaehee knows that she wants nothing to be between them anymore, to separate them.

At first, she still refuses to look at Lila. Even without getting lost in those lovely eyes of the person that saved her from the miserable life she has been living - the speed of her heartbeat is already concerning. 

But the light caress of their soft fingers on her skin makes her slowly, carefully, look up at them again, bringing her even closer to the figure she wants to embrace and never let go. 

She really wants the piece of furniture gone.

"Do I truly make you this nervous?"

Lila's voice is low and raw, not hiding the emotions behind their words. They sound surprisingly hopeful and… a little scared?

Not trusting her voice to do what she wants, Jaehee just nods. Shouldn't Lila know about the effect they have on her? With how much they've been playing around with it, Jaehee has been convinced they know.

But Lila shakes their head.

"I mean, is it me who makes you nervous? Or is it the flirting, the teasing? Would you get flustered by anyone acting like this?"

Trying to calm down her rapidly beating heart, Jaehee shakes her head. She swallows, wanting her words to be audible and the truth in them to be apparent. 

"I get flustered because it's you, Lila. It's not just the teasing. Everything you do makes me nervous somehow. But at the same time, you're the only person that can truly calm me down."

As to prove her statement, she nervously averts her gaze. She doesn't know much about friendship and how it works, she's worried she's said too much. And Lila is so close… Concentrating is impossible.

Time seems to be standing still. 

This may be because Lila stands still, a thing they usually never do. It makes Jaehee feel a bit uneasy, she isn't sure what to think of this or what to expect, it's so atypical for her friend.

Her thoughts keep running, trying to figure out what exactly is happening right now and how to act further. Eventually, after not finding any satisfying answer, Jaehee decides to slowly turn her head back to look at Lila again. 

The intensity in Lila's eyes keeps her in place as soon as their gazes lock. Now both of them seem to be frozen in time, just staring at each other.

(by @braincellbank​)

Jaehee has no idea what this means or what step should be taken next, let alone by whom. She just knows that she doesn't want to look away.

When Lila finally moves, it happens suddenly and fast. 

Jaehee's eyes widen when they suddenly jerk forward, and they widen even more as Lila presses their lips to hers.

It takes Jaehee's brain a moment to catch up to what's happening, to understand it. To understand that this is real, that what she's secretly dreamed of and fantasized about for weeks and months truly is happening, right here and now.

But as soon as it sinks in, her eyes flutter closed and her free hand, the one Lila isn't touching, finds their cheek.

The kiss feels like heaven.

Soon, Lila relaxes into Jaehee's touch and the frantic, nervous hectic of the firm pressing of their lips shifts into a soft, loving exploration.

In no time, Jaehee is entirely captivated, forgetting that the world exists around them and even if she would remember, she wouldn't care. All she cares about is Lila. 

Lila's touch, their warmth, their scent. The fact that this kiss feels even better than she could have ever imagined it. 

Her heart beats so fast it seems like it's trying to fly out of her chest to catapult itself into the sky to rejoice.

And Lila's lips taste so sweet…

Too sweet.

With a gasp, Jaehee breaks the kiss.

"You did snack on the chocolate! I knew it!"

Throwing their head back, Lila laughs, their earlier stillness nowhere to be found anymore. Their smile is just as wide as Jaehee's and they look just as happy as her.

Jaehee couldn't care less about the chocolate.

"Guess you've caught me." Another sly smile makes it to their lips. "Guess I'll have to make up for it…"

A quiet, displeased noise slips over Jaehee's lips as Lila draws back. But soon, they've made their way around the table and Jaehee finds herself in their arms, embracing them as well on instinct. 

"I don't think I want to bake anymore today." 

They're both grinning at each other before their lips meet in another kiss.

[prismatales]

Word Count: 2.8k

Pairings: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Category: Fluff, Comedy.

Warnings: Mentions of dicks in a comical manner.

Beta Readers: @strawberryakaashi @cassroler @dadchis-girl

Summary: There’s always a first time for everything. For you and Ushijima, this was the beginning of your unique holiday traditions.

Here’s my contribution to the Haikyuu Headquarters SFW Secret Santa! This is my gift for the lovely @kandyshoppe. Happy holidays, love! You’re such an amazing friend and a great artist. Every time I see your art on discord my tummy does a flip. Hope you enjoy my little gift for you, baby!

As far as Ushijima can remember, his family wasn’t used to celebrating holidays such as Christmas while most people tend to enjoy said festivities alongside their whole families or closest friends. Growing up, the closest thing Ushijima experienced was a small dinner with his parents, the dinner usually accompanied by a simple gift every now and then.

Ushijima’s family never got the experience of setting up a christmas tree, or decorating their home with things like those red stockings people used to hang over the fireplace. There was no need to prepare a feast for Christmas night since there is no need for letting  children to make a mess in the living room as they ripped through layers of brightly colored gift paper to look for the presents Santa got them. 

Speaking of the old man in a sleigh, that was a tale nobody could manage to convince a young Ushi to believe in, no matter how many times his teachers and classmates tried so hard to make him believe in. As a result, he made the other children cry more than once when he revealed that Santa didn’t exist…

For him, Christmas was just another day of the year, nothing he had to worry about...That is until you came into his life, and slowly began influencing his perspectives after getting together and eventually moving in together into this small, cozy place of your own.

That summer day when you moved into that small house was one of the happiest moments of your lives. Ushi’s stoic expression hid an excited spark in his eyes at the idea of having a place of his own, accompanied by one of the persons he cherished the most. And despite the many ups and downs that every couple goes through, he’s never come to regret your relationship in the slightest.

Every moment becomes another memory that’s swept away just like the seasons over the passage of time. Before he realized, all the trees had lost their lively appearance and the air became cold and crisp with the arrival of winter.

And when winter finally arrived, so did the same holiday he never bothered paying attention to, that is until you came along.

Ushijima noticed the way your eyes would always fixate their attention on the houses and stores covered in beautiful assortments of lights, spheres and wreaths, admiring their beauty with the same wonder as that of a small child. It was the same way you always paid attention to the surroundings during a trip to the mall, deeply enthralled by the soft tunes of the carols while cradling a warm drink with a smile, enjoying the soothing warmth against your hands with a serene expression.

And yet, despite the utter ADORATION for the holidays, you never suggested decorating the house, no matter how many times you both passed by the rows of lights or the trees they sold at the market.

“You see...my family never bothered celebrating Chritstmas before.” You shrugged casually, stirring the simmering pot of soup over the heat of the stove. “My parents were never that passionate about the holidays, and frankly we barely bothered celebrating birthdays as well.”

With a smaller spoon you took a spoonful of the savory meal, blowing gently on the food before pushing it towards Ushi, who carefully grabbed the spoon from your hands and gave it a taste.

“Is it good?” 

“Mhm.”

Satisfied with his reply, you beamed softly at him and turned back towards the pot to turn off the heat so you both could finally enjoy some well-deserved lunch together. Said meals were always accompanied by some light chatter. He always had a new story to share about his teammates, and you always had something to say about work.

“Since this is our first year together...Would you like to celebrate Christmas together?” His question however, made the conversation differ from its typical subject.

“Well….it would be nice, I guess. Where did all this come from?”

“I see the way you look at all the decorations at the mall and how much you enjoy the songs.” He noticed you got awfully quiet, staring at the plate in front of you for a brief moment before turning back to look at him with eyes filled with hope.

“I’d love to do something with you for the holidays, but only if you’re okay with it!”

“Of course.”

Ushi's answer was short, but his tone of voice told you everything you needed to know. Needless to say, lunch was quickly taken care of before you were both out of the house and headed towards the car.

It was quite a sight for many people, watching you two go through the store almost like a pair of children with free reign over a credit card. Some people who recognized Ushi didn’t hesitate to take pictures when you placed an elf’s hat over his head (he had to crouch down so you could reach him.)

A couple hours later, you came out carrying a christmas tree, decorations and even some ingredients for cookies. Ushi had also brought something else but you didn’t get the chance to see it, since he put it along with the groceries.

Almost like a couple of kids, everything was quickly taken inside. And as soon as the groceries had been left back in the kitchen, the next thing on the list was decorating the living room.

Starting with the Christmas tree...

“ I...think we messed up.” You mutter, looking up at the mess before your eyes. Both you and Ushi are just standing there next to each other, witnessing the monstrosity also known as the “Christmas Tree”. 

The tree itself has such a beautiful shade of green and looks so beautiful that  it can easily be confused for a real one. The decorations however, were on a whole different level…and not in a good way.

“It looks good enough to me.” Ushi’s remark is filled with such confidence that you had the urge to ask if he was faking it. Because the thing in front of you two was anything but “cute”....

It’s covered from head to toe in such differently colored spheres, lights and strings that it hurt to look at it. The lights were also the wrong color, rather than that warm shade of yellow, Ushi  accidently grabbed the ones that had multiple colors, which were also accompanied by an array of different colored strings….Needless to say, it was gaudy.  The tree looked like it came out of a bad parody of the retro era...

That thing couldn’t be considered a christmas tree, but on the other hand, it’s not that bad for your first time decorating by yourselves...right?

“We’ll...worry about that later.” Your attention diverted from the shining atrocity, and instead it went towards the next thing to do on the Christmas list. Strolling once again into the kitchen with Ushi trailing after you like a lost puppy, you picked up the tablet at the countertop and began looking through some tabs, scanning the screen until you found exactly what you were looking for.

“Let’s try this one out!” The tablet is quickly shoved towards Ushi’s face, who blinked twice before grabbing the tablet away from your smaller hand and looked at the reason behind your excitement.

“Christmas Cookies?” There are  different  varieties  of cookies displayed on the long tray. From Santa Clause's face, little snowmen, gingerbread men, candy canes to even little bells, all of them were decorated in beautiful shades of red and green glaze that looked absolutely delicious. The ingredients and instructions are relatively simple, easy enough for someone who’s never baked cookies in their lives. 

The kitchen quickly resembled the white aesthetic landscape outside. There’s layers of flour everywhere you look at, the counter, the sink, your clothes and even your faces. It’s all accompanied with the comforting warmth from the heated oven and the lighthearted atmosphere as you both work in a comfortable silence, kneading the dough and rolling it into a fine layer, just perfect for the cookie cutters to do their one job. As you cut row after row of dough into different shapes, Ushi cut up some squares of parchment paper, laying them over a baking tray and shortly after, the raw pieces of dough were quickly placed down and shoved inside the oven.

With the timer set for thirty minutes, you turned to look at Ushi with excitement. He brushed the flour smeared on your cheek with a thumb, smiling softly before the two of you began cleaning the kitchen together along the rhythm of some christmas classics, waiting patiently for the oven to finish baking the sweet treats…

“....They don’t look like christmas cookies...at all.” The way you looked at these cookies was almost comical. As if life itself had been drained out every time you looked at them. If your cousins happened to look at these treats, they would think they were halloween cookies and your aunts would probably make fun of you for all eternity if they looked at the so called “bells” and “candy canes”...

“They actually taste pretty good.”  You can hear Ushi munching on some of the baked goods. There’s a slight change in his tone as he enjoys biting into one of the treats without a care. When you turned to give him an unimpressed look, you had to fight back a snort. Was he really that oblivious about their not so innocent shape?

Watching him eat that baked failure had to be one of the funniest things you’ve ever seen since you began dating, you quickly pulled out your phone to take a couple of pictures as well as a video. Ushi swallowed the mouthful of sugary pastry and turned to look at you in utter confusion. 

“What’s so funny?” 

“You really don’t see it, babe?” 

You tried so hard to fight back tears. And the phone kept shaking uncontrollably between your hands as it recorded a confused Ushi that kept looking directly at the camera. “Look at the candy canes.”

His eyes went back to the tray, raising an eyebrow in confusion at the deformed, yet tasty cookies. With the same expression full of confusion he turned to look at your giggling self “They don’t look like candy canes but that’s it.”

“Turn it upside down.” You’re trying so hard to contain your laughter at this point. It becomes downright painful to hold it in when he takes hold of one of the treats, all of his focus is on the treat’s shapes as he tries to find the reason you’re acting so strange. Until he finally turns the cookie the way you told him to. “....oh.”

You don’t know what’s funnier, the fact he’s holding a cookie shaped like a limp dick...or the fact he just kept staring at it before shrugging, taking a huge bite so nonchalantly, but by this point you’ve already forgotten how to breathe and nearly end up dropping your phone into the bowl of frosting. He may not get the joke concerning the treats, but watching you nearly slip off the counter in a fit of hysterics pulled a soft chuckle from Ushi. A barely audible one that you completely miss while you send Tendou a pic of your boyfriend eating those cursed Christmas treats.

“Alright, alright…” You wipe a small tear that slipped out before grabbing the outstretched hand before you. Taking a deep breath you look back at the baking tray on the counter. “I think we baked too many cookies. But we can still decorate and give some to our friends, it would be a waste to throw them away.”

“We can always make another batch if you feel like it.”

“Nah, doesn’t matter. Let’s just decorate these and take a break.”

After the little baking fiasco and everything was cleaned and put in its proper place, you decided to just lay down on the couch and take a break. You would be lying if you said it wasn’t disappointing that neither the decorations nor the baking turned out well. 

At the same time you have to admit that spending time with Ushi like this was better than you could have ever imagined. So what if some of the cookies looked like penises and the christmas tree looked like someone had thrown everything representing the retro era, threw it into a blender and poured it all over a poor tree? You could still see a faint glint of excitement in Ushi’s eyes when the lights were turned on. The same glint that appeared again when he was biting on those delicious treats covered in powdery sugar.

You could say it was like an adrenaline rush that you were now coming down from, because slowly your eyelids began getting heavier with exhaustion. The soft fabric of the couch felt like a warm hug enveloping your body, welcoming it to the land of dreams with each passing second.

When Ushi walked into the living room, he was greeted with the adorable sight of your hands tucked underneath a cushion, holding it closer to your sleeping face while you laid face down on the sofa. The fluffy blanket that was always in the living room during winter covered your body up to the waist, except for the fuzzy socks you would always wear at home.

But the prettiest sight of them all was that smile adorning your face even in the middle of a deep slumber. A smile that he’s always cherished ever since that time he first realized he had a crush on you.

Perhaps you would enjoy waking up to a small surprise. With that in mind he went back into the kitchen and began looking for the stuff he bought along with the groceries, ready to prepare something Tendou had shown him during one of their meetings. Something he enjoyed so much and would love to share with you…

A delicious smell flowed into the living room, slowly stirring you awake from the nap. The mouth watering scent of spices coming from the kitchen was impossible to ignore, its alluring presence pulled you in like a moth enamoured by a flame. As you found the source of the smell, the one thing you didn’t expect was seeing Ushi in front of the stove.

“What are you doing, babe?” Even in a drowsy state, that didn’t stop you from embracing his waist from behind, nuzzling into the welcoming heat radiating from him. “And what are you cooking? It smells incredible.”

“It’s called mulled wine. Tendou showed me how to make it.” You took a peek at the simmering pot, which was filled with a bottle’s worth of red wine and spices such as cinnamon sticks, clove, orange slices and anise. He swiftly removed from the heat before it could start boiling and pulled a pair of cups from the cabinets.

And just like that, you found yourselves enjoying a delicious cup of mulled wine as you sat in front of the fireplace, cuddling together under the same blanket from before. The warm and toasty atmosphere, along with the soft music in the background, was one of the most comfortable moments you’d spent together.

“Did you like the wine?”  He kissed the side of your head.

“Mhmm, It’s delicious.” You nuzzled closer to him with a smile, before taking another sip of the mug, sighing in happiness by the comforting flavor of the delicious drink. “I didn’t know you liked this kind of stuff.”

“Tendou taught me how to make it.”

“We should send him something as a thanks….as long as it’s not cookies.”

The room filled with a contagious laughter. You felt Ushi shaking as he chuckled at the reminder of the deformed treats before kissing the side of your face for a second time.

After his laughter died down, Ushi turned to face you. “I’m sorry our first Christmas together wasn’t perfect.” 

“...Huh?”

The two mugs, now empty of their contents, were carefully placed to the side as you turned around in his lap to face his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“We were supposed to have the perfect Christmas together, but it feels like everything came out wrong.”

“Toshi, listen carefully…” 

Your hands cradled his cheeks tenderly, thumbs skimming over his face and tracing circles across his cheekbones with a delicate sweetness he became addicted to. 

“Things may not have turned out perfect but we still had fun, didn’t we? Besides, look at it this way, it could be our own way to spend the holidays! Decorating the ugliest tree ever, making cursed christmas cookies, having some mulled wine near the fireplace. I’m more than happy celebrating like this.”

It felt like a weight had  lifted off his shoulders with your answer. His arms made their way around your waist, embracing you tightly as he captured your lips in a brief and delicate kiss.

“You’re all I want for Christmas.”

Taglist: @godtieruwu @hanniejji @savagetrickster @shoobirino @sugacookiies @unbreakableeiji @pixxiesdust @xmyshya @sugassetter @jayeray

[seasidewriter1-writes]

Answering Asks from @fadingclamalmondrascal : “Hi! I hope you're still doing asks, but I understand if you're not, it sounds like you've got a lot going on. I've got 3 questions for you:

1: What made you want to adopt this story and write an "Anakin's big sister who falls in love with obi" au? What about it appealed to you initially, and what about it keeps you coming back?

2: I love Elara's Sith name! Carus is so cool. What kind of thought did you put into that name and her sith design?

3: What does your writing process for each chapter look like?”

Hi!! My asks are always open, and even if my life his completely hectic, I’ll always get around to answering them! But, thankfully, my life has started to calm down in the last week. I’ve gotten a lot of writing done in the last day, so I’m in a very “Balance” mood, so I’m super stoked to answer these!! (I also wrote a lot again, so buckle up!!)

1. So fun backstory on my finding the story: I was living in England for my first year at University, and I was on a big ol’ Star Wars kick because The Force Awakens had just come out in December. It was January. It was cold, the evenings were getting rainy, so one night after dinner and scrolled through FFN to find something fun to read. And when I first found and read the original story, pre-adoption (which I believe is still up and called “Another Skywalker”), I remember being like ‘wow, this is an interesting concept.’ And as I read it, in my head, all of these ideas were coming to my head; and I remember being kinda sad about that. I didn’t want to write my own story, then have it seem like I’d ripped off the concept from the author. Because this was the first fic with the “Anakin’s older sister falling for Obi” concept that I’d ever seen. I didn’t know if it was something of a trope for an Obi x OC pairing, or if this one was an odd one out. So I finished reading the 11 chapters, and the author had posted a note saying that the story was, effectively, up for adoption. I have never jumped on something so fast. I drafted out two scenes (a now obsolete scene where Elara sees Obi-Wan off to Kamino, and a chunk of the final battle RotS) and sent it to the author. When she told me that the story and concept were all mine to do with as I pleased, I was so excited. Because I realized that all the ideas that had been tentatively brewing in my head, I could now fully bring to fruition.

What initially drew me to the concept was the idea of being able to explore a story and a romance that is, in a way, a foil to Anakin’s. Almost a way to show that maybe, if things had gone differently, Anakin and Padmé’s romance didn’t have to be doomed. Because I have always believed that there had to be some way that it didn’t have to end in disaster. Presenting a Jedi OC x Obi-Wan can explore similar issues (and there’s a lot of fun to be had with that concept, too). But then you have two people who were raised with/to follow the same ideals. Though they are both unique individuals, they will come up to very similar blockages––struggling with breaking the Code, with sloughing off ideals and a way of life they’ve followed all their lives. But with a Skywalker OC… that changes. You get someone who wasn’t raised to keep her emotions in ultra-check. Someone who, like Anakin, is family oriented, passionate about protecting those they love, and innately wishes to express their emotions in a more open manner. Those characteristics present unique conflict (particularly in conjunction with Obi-Wan’s characteristics), and I just… I wanted to, and continue to want to, play with that. Because Elara is dedicated to the Jedi Code. She’s a good Jedi. But put her want to be a good Jedi (for herself, for her brother, for the good of the galaxy) right up against an undeniable, innate need and want to love (because, at her core, Elara is just a purely loving person)––you get whole other obstacles to overcome. It’s a lot of fun to figure out how her overcoming her obstacles helps Obi-Wan overcomes his, and vice-versa. How we can see, in recent chapters, that Obi-Wan realizing he can’t hold Elara at arm’s length anymore affects her; how she starts being more gentle towards him again, tentatively letting him back in. I just love playing with stuff like that!!

And there are a whole lot of things that keep me coming back to this story. One of the biggest things, I think, has to be the idea that ‘love prevails.’ I love myself a complex romance. Maybe that’s why I love Regency/Period Dramas so much; because there are so many ups and downs––and that’s what makes it feel so good! Because while there’s hope and love and happiness, there’s also drama and frustration and confrontation. But through all of that, at the end… love prevails. I’m a hopeless romantic, I’ll own up to that any time of the day. So seeing a couple, so hopelessly in love, go through trials and tribulations and come out on the other end completely alright? That’s my jam! And when you’ve got someone who stands so steadfastly by their ideals as Obi-Wan, but who very clearly is… so passionate and loving… That just feels like the way a love story with him would go. And ‘love prevails’ doesn’t just apply to the Obi-Lara stuff either. It’s about the familial love between Anakin and Elara, and how that love for each other may thrive or suffer in events to come… it’s the platonic love of Elara and the men of the 442nd. Star Wars is a story of many things––family, adventure, coming into your own… but it’s also about love. And getting to add to that aspect of the story in any given way, for people who enjoy reading it, to have fun conceptualizing and writing everything… it keeps bringing me back for more.

2. I had so much fun thinking up all the Darth Carus stuff!! It was prompted by a question in a review, asking what I thought Elara would be like as a Sith/what her name would be. So I started looking at all the other Sith names, and realized a lot of them were words that stood for descriptors of the Sith Lord. “Maul” for (the literal usage of) “maul,” “Tyrannus” for “tyrant” (derived, likely, from Latin tyrannia or tyrannos), “Vader” for “invader” (or “father”). So I decided I would use a Latin word for her Sith name, and decided I needed to think of what she would be like as a Sith. Tyrannical? Violent? Rampaging? And none of those seemed… right. It felt, to me, that if she were to become a Sith, it would be out of heartbreak. And it wouldn’t be a denial of love kind of heartbreak; it would be losing someone she truly loved (Anakin or Obi-Wan) forever. Their death, perhaps by a mistake that she made. So I went, ‘okay, the birth of her being a Sith is related to love.’ I searched up some Latin words and found “Carus” which means heart. And because Elara, Jedi or Sith, is so involved with her emotions and with love, with her heart… it just seemed to fit.

Now, the outfit––ohh, I had so much fun with the outfit. I’ve got a BFA in Theatrical Arts, so I’m big on costumes and costume details, so creating Elara’s Sith outfit was absolutely delightful. Again, I started with what I thought Darth Carus would be like. There’s a mournful aspect to her, so black as part of her color palette works, but I didn’t want her to be dressed in all black. I thought that, in the wake of her heartbreak, there would be a dangerous passion about her. An angry passion. So ‘anger’ and ‘passion’ are typically associated with burning colors like red, so I through red (and orange) into the mix. And I wanted them to be bright––Darth Carus is no longer hiding in the neutrals of Tatooine or the Jedi Order. She’s letting the galaxy know her pain. I did, however, want to stick with clothing articles that were more robe-like. It’s what Elara’s known her whole life. But instead of multiple layers, I stripped it down to singular, more form fitting articles. In a way, the fewer layers is displaying the vulnerability that turned her towards the Darkness. Red is the predominant color (the tunic) because it draws attention. You have to look at her, you have to see her pain. It’s almost like staring into a fire, or gaping at an open wound. And because all good Sith Lords need a dramatic cape, I thought I’d do a fun take on it and do one of the ones that attaches at the shoulders instead of drapes over them. Maximum drama for sweeping down staircases or jumping off of tall platforms. Now, like I said, I’m a sucker for small details… hence why I added the embroidery on the tunic collar. It’s floral. It denotes her love of life. Now, if this were all real life, real costume design in an actual movie… the embroidered flowers would be Gleannish Snow Blossoms. And, of course, amidst all the bright reds, vivid oranges, and swaths of black… against all this intensity… you have the delicate, cool softness of the real Snow Blossom pinned to the spot over her heart. The very same Snow Blossom that Obi-Wan gave her on Gleann. A gentle reminder of better days… of the reason she became the ways she is… of the man she loved so wholly and deeply that, in losing him… she’d much have rather killed her own heart instead. (Also, a friend of mine and I had a wonderful conversation discussing how much of a terrifying, badass power couple Sith!Elara and Sith!Obi-Wan would be. It’s delightful.)

3. So, if I’m writing a chapter that deals with a chunk of movie or episode, what I’ll do first is sit down and watch what I perceive I’ll be writing. I’ll take down notes on things that I’ll want to add in/describe. I’ve also got a whole document of ideas I’ve already written down, and a document of bullet-pointed ideas, so I’ll give that I skim/edit, too. I always have to pick what scenes to leave in or take out, decide if they can be summarized or should be left in. Sometimes this’ll happen the same day I start writing, but sometimes I take a day to really think things over, sleep on it, then start the next. Then I’ll start to write, and I’ll have the movie/episode open for reference. When I write canon dialogue, it’s a lot of: watch, listen, pause, transcribe; rewind, read subtitles, listen, pause, transcribe. I also usually have, like… five safari tabs open with different research pages open––one for the movie/episode, probably one for a character of some kind, a google image search of a costume or something, and another one that’s got, like, different kinds of starships or droids (because there are so, so many). A lot of the time I’ll just transcribe/describe a chunk of canon stuff, then go back and add in extra details, weave Elara into it, or change up the dialogue to fit. An example being Obi-Wan and Sugi’s conversation in the barn. I beefed that up a little bit, added in references, and used it to benefit the overall storyline.

With chapters that are more original content based, those take a little longer to plan. Even if I have an idea of what’s going to happen, it takes a bit of time to figure out how to order it all, how to get a proper lead in, how to make transitions. And I also contemplate whether or not what I want to write is really going to be beneficial to the story, or if it’s going to end up being meaningless filling. There are a lot of ideas that I have had or do have that would be fun to write, but don’t really… work into the story well enough (like, god, do I want a girls’ day chapter 😂). And it’s in writing these chapters in particular that I do a lot of my music listening. Star Wars soundtracks, the story playlists I’ve made… the right music can help me find the mood or setting of a scene, inspire a moment. Like, I cannot tell you how much of the bunker scene on Ryloth was inspired by Sebastian Böhm’s rendition of “Blue Monday.” Music plays a huge role in writing for me. I’ll have music playing when I’m driving or doing dishes or cooking, and I’ll start to formulate ideas while listening. There are times, too, when I feel stuck when writing that I’ll swap on over to YouTube and I’ll watch some Star Wars edits. There’s an amazing edit of “War Pigs” by Black Sabbath over battle sequences from the films, and it’s just… it feeds my soul when I get stuck writing battle sequences. I’ve got, like… a go-to list of edits I watch when I feel a little stuck, and they’re all phenomenal. And when all is said and done and I’ve finished the chapter, I usually take a break and sit on it for a bit. Then go back, read over it, do grammar edits, change things if I see fit too. Then it’s on to review replies and I get it uploaded and posted!!

[earliebirb]

under the silvery moon

An Anon asked for some dancing stevetony! I hope you like it, Anon! 🤍

under the silvery moon

steve/tony, fluff, established relationship, 1912 words 

“Captain, you have truly outdone yourself.”

Steve feels his own lips break into an answering grin at the familiar voice. 

Tony pads across the wide stretch of distance between the entrance to the rooftop and where Steve is seated on a picnic blanket, spread on top of the grass Tony had had installed to replace the linoleum flooring—something he did to cater to Steve’s love of gardening. The previously sleek, minimalistic, and barren rooftop has been converted into a flourishing garden filled with various plants and flowers of different colors, shapes, and sizes courtesy of Steve’s green thumb. 

Right now, the garden has fairy lights strung all over it. They are hung on the branches of various plants, looping around bushes and flowers, giving off a magical yellow glow that is reminiscent of fireflies.

On the picnic blanket, Steve has prepared multiple layers of fluffy blankets for them to snuggle under, as well as several cushions and pillows. A bottle of wine is sitting in a bucket of ice and a bag filled with takeout from their favorite Italian restaurant is sitting right next to it.

He watches Tony approach him, unabashedly indulging in the sight of him. Tony’s steps are easy and unhurried. Still dressed in a crisp white shirt and black pants, suit jacket slung over his shoulder and red tie loosened haphazardly, he gazes at Steve with a warm smile and a pair of tired eyes—remnants of a long work day. 

Steve’s heart clenches at how much Tony looks like home—Steve’s home. There is nothing he wants more in the world than an armful of Tony right now—his weary eyes, his messy hair, the scrape of his goatee against Steve’s skin. Steve wants all of it.

So when Tony finally reaches him and lies comfortably on the picnic blanket, head nestled in Steve’s lap and legs stretched out, it doesn’t come as a surprise when a knot loosens in his chest, an immediate reaction to Tony’s touch—the ache that only Tony can soothe finally ebbing away. It is as if his heart has decided that this is the way things ought to be—both of them pressed close together, all day, everyday. 

“The garden’s beautiful,” Tony says.

Steve smiles and Tony blinks when Steve’s fingers brush his hair back in slow, sweeping strokes. 

“I had to do something of this caliber, at the very least, to beat the lovely evening you planned for us last week.”

“Why did you cancel the reservation, anyway? You were really excited to go to Romano’s just a few days ago.”

“No special reason. Just didn’t feel like going out and dealing with people after all.” Steve strokes the soft hair of Tony’s right eyebrow absentmindedly. “I want you all to myself tonight.”

A radiant smile blooms on Tony’s face, accentuating all the laugh lines he has accumulated over the years. The glow of the fairy lights is reflected in his eyes, twinkling gold flecks swimming in brown irises.

Tony fakes a scandalous gasp, eyes blinking up at Steve with mischief.

“Are the rumors true, Captain? Is Tony Stark-Rogers your favorite person on earth?”

Steve raises an eyebrow, playing along. “Oh,” he whispers conspiratorially, leaning down to bring their mouths together in a kiss that leaves Tony mesmerized and panting, “Tony Stark-Rogers is my favorite human being in the entire universe.”

He kisses the space between Tony’s eyebrows, chuckling when he sees Tony’s eyes cross as they try to track the movement of Steve’s face leaning in. 

When Steve pulls back, Tony intertwines his fingers with Steve’s, squeezing his hand lightly. Tony lets their joined hands rest atop his chest, on the spot where the arc reactor used to be. The heat of Tony’s skin seeps through his shirt. 

“You’re my favorite person, too, honey bunches.”

They stay like that for a while, relishing the quiet intimacy of each other’s company, the sound of New York City’s busy nightlife accompanying them from way down below. It all sounds far away, though. Up here, everything is tranquil and peaceful, just he and Tony in a world of their own.

“Let’s eat before the food gets cold.” Tony sits up. Immediately, Steve’s thighs feel cold and bereft.

When Tony stretches his limbs, groaning at the release of endorphins in his body, his ankle grazes the sole of Steve’s foot. He startles at the contact, surprised by Steve’s freezing cold skin. 

“You feeling cold, sweetheart?” Tony’s eyebrows crease together in concern. He grabs one of the fleece blankets, wrapping the soft fabric snug around Steve’s cold feet. “I can go down and get you a pair of socks.”

“No, it’s fine. Just a bit chilly,” Steve says, heart warm at how taking care of Steve has become something second nature to Tony. Something done without conscious thought, akin to muscle memory.

Among Tony’s many expressions of love, small gestures during quiet moments like this are the ones Steve cherishes the most. He falls just a little bit deeper in love with Tony, every single time. 

After making sure no part of Steve’s feet are exposed to the cold night air, Tony rummages in the takeout bag. “Which one’s mine?”

“Yours is the carbonara. Mine’s the aglio e olio. There’s garlic bread and caprese salad, too.” 

They wolf down the food with a few glasses of wine, talking about the day they had. Steve grumbles about SHIELD paperwork and a mishap during weapons training. Tony rambles about a promising new deal with a biotech company in Japan that is still in the works. Their work separates the two of them more often than Steve would have liked, and not for the first time, he is immensely glad for the system they have taken years to cultivate: having weekly date nights whenever possible and not being away from each other for more than two weeks at a time. Three, if push comes to shove.

After an anecdote about Happy’s driving antics that has Tony giggling uncontrollably, Steve reaches over to turn on the speaker Tony gave him for his birthday a few years ago. Although Tony has thoughtfully modeled its vintage design after old radios from the forties, the sound it produces is of the highest quality—Tony wouldn’t settle for anything less, of course. 

Steve connects the speaker to his phone before picking something slow and sweet out of a playlist of his favorites, old jazz that reminds him of the neighborhood he grew up in. It is the kind of song he would hear coming out of one of his neighbors’ windows, one that would linger in his head for days afterward. 

A gentle melody on the piano begins and a lady starts to croon sweetly about tender love and foolish hearts.

Turning to Tony, he holds out a hand. “Dance with me?”

With Tony’s hand in his, Steve leads him off the blanket, both of them standing barefoot on the grass. Tony loops his hands around Steve’s neck and Steve settles his hands on Tony’s hips. They begin to sway gently in tune to the music, falling into a companionable silence. When Tony rests his cheek against Steve’s chest, eyes gazing at the skyscrapers in the distance, Steve rests his chin on the crown of Tony’s head, closing his eyes.

Somewhere during the second verse of the next song on Steve’s playlist, Tony says something, breaking Steve’s reverie. He opens his eyes. 

“What?”

“I can hear your heartbeat.”

“Yeah? How does it sound?”

“Steady. It usually lulls me to sleep.” Tony yawns.

“You sleepy, sweetheart?” Steve plants a kiss into Tony’s hair.

A beat, and then:

“A little. But let’s stay like this for a little longer.”

At the end of the fourth song, Tony pulls back from his resting place on Steve’s chest to look up at him. Steve meets his gaze, warmth flooding his chest at the sight of the content smile on Tony’s face.

Maybe it’s New York City’s night air, or the fairy lights illuminating the rooftop, or the sentimental love songs flowing from the speaker, or the way Tony is gazing up at him like there is nowhere else he would rather be, or perhaps even all of those things combined, but the next thing Steve knows, he finds himself saying:

“Do me a favor, sweetheart?”

Tony tilts his head, curiosity bleeding into his eyes.

“Never change. Stay like this forever,” Steve whispers. 

“What? Super sexy and irresistible?”

Steve chuckles, burying his laughter in Tony’s dark locks. He pulls Tony close as he looks up at the night sky.

“Stay like this. Stay mine. Stay with me.” Steve swallows. “Please never get tired of me.”

That gives Tony pause. Steve feels him still, pausing their slow dance. Then Steve feels warm hands cupping his cheeks, bringing his gaze back down to earth, back home, back to Tony.

Something shifts in Tony’s eyes upon catching sight of Steve’s watery eyes.

“Hey, what brought this on?” Tony asks, voice uncharacteristically gentle. 

Steve sniffs, laughing sheepishly, a little embarrassed at being so sentimental.

“Nothing, I’m just—” Steve takes a deep breath, tightening his hold around Tony. “Just really grateful for you.”

Tony’s thumbs sweep his eyelids gently, wiping his tears away.

“Hey, look at me.”

When Steve opens his eyes, lovely brown eyes are staring right at him. 

“I don’t know about staying like this forever, sweetheart. I mean, I know I look absolutely ravishing right now, but you know I already have a few wrinkles and some white hair here and there.”

Steve rolls his eyes. As if those would ever render Tony less beautiful in his eyes. He even has a not-so-secret partiality for Tony’s salt-and-pepper hair—something Tony still finds difficult to believe.

“But! You have my word that you are, quite unfortunately, stuck with me for the rest of your life. I’m sorry, darling, but I did warn you that marrying Tony Stark comes with a no-return policy.”

Steve laughs even as he feels something glow incandescent within him, brighter and warmer than the sun on a hot summer day. 

“In fact, I’m more afraid of you getting tired of me. In a few years, there will be more wrinkles, more white hair, and who knows? Maybe I’ll even go bald. My skin’s going to get all saggy and disgusting and then—”

Steve leans in to press his lips against Tony’s, one of the tried-and-true methods to effectively shut him up. 

When he leans back, it is to glare at Tony.

“Don’t you ever use the word ‘disgusting’ to refer to my husband.”

Tony blinks. “Not even to say disgustingly attractive?”

Steve’s lips twitch. “Okay, maybe that one’s acceptable.”

Tony smiles smugly. Then he narrows his eyes. “But I’m serious, Steven. You better prepare yourself for my deteriorating beauty. It is not going to be pretty, I’m—”

Steve pushes Tony’s face back into his chest so the rest of his passionate tirade comes out all garbled and muffled. 

“I’ll love you forever. Wrinkles, white hair, saggy skin, and all.”

“Don’t forget the balding—”

“I will love you even if there isn’t a single strand of hair on your head.”

Tony stills. 

“You’d better,” he says, voice still muffled, poking a finger into Steve’s side in warning.

Steve’s hand reaches down to find the accusing finger. Ever so gently, he splays the rest of Tony’s fingers apart to interlock them with his own as he plants a kiss on Tony’s temple. 

“I promise, sweetheart.”

[s-k-y-w-a-l-k-e-r]

The people have spoken! I’m going to show you how I do my

ADJUSTMENT LAYERS

Curves are awesome but we’re not using them today

I’m obsessed with Vibrance layers right now and I figured out that using them in a specific way actually brings up darkness in super dark things like Mr. Robot!

You may already know you can have multiple sharpening layers but maybe you didn’t know that you can alter their opacity?

Color balance isn’t always ideal but it’s great when the footage is already well-lit (like with the footage we’re starting with)

The best thing this method does is that it will make the light and colors in your gifs POP.

Full disclosure: this is best viewed on a desktop—it almost made my phone’s Tumblr app crash. Lots of media under the cut!

Disclaimer: I use this method of making gifs and you will need a passing understanding of Photoshop and adjustment layers, which I did attempt to describe how to use. Not going to describe it here, but click the link above or DM me with questions.

Here’s what it looks like already resized from 1080p video down to Tumblr width of 540px. A bit dim, no clarity.

An image like this deserves to pop! So! We’re going to make heavy use of Vibrance adjustment layers. 

Basically:

1. Create a new Vibrance layer and bump the “vibrance” slider all the way up. Then change the blend mode to Color Dodge. Chances are good 100% Fill is way, way too much—but take it all the way down to 0% and then bring the slider up until the highlights begin to jump out. 28% worked here.

2. Make a Copy of that Vibrance layer! (Drag the layer down to the little + in a box button at the bottom right of the layers.) Then change the Blend Mode to Screen and move the fill percentage around until you’re happy (40% in this case). 

This is my new TRICK and it does amazing things to brighten up dark footage. It’s great because it is less likely to create mottled color noise.

3. Make a Copy of THAT Vibrance layer and keep the blending mode on Screen! I did this by accident once and realized it does such a nice job of building on the subtle brightening the previous layer did. In this particular gif, I took the fill percentage way down to 8% and the change is almost negligible so I’m not including a screenshot.

4. MAKE YET ANOTHER COPY of the Vibrance layer! But instead of going brighter, we’re now going to bring back the blacks. Change the Blend Mode to Color Burn. Then bring the Fill way down and slide it back up until you’re happy that the darkest tones in your image look substantial. In this case, it was 10%. With the Color Burn Vibrance layer, a little bit goes a long, long way.

5. Finally, create a new Color Balance adjustment layer and fiddle as needed. In this case, I kept the adjustments from a previous section of the video that was very red—so I worked to dial back those reds by incorporating more cyans/blues without letting it go too green. 

I only adjusted the Shadows and Midtones here, not the Highlights (because that’s where his skin tone, in this lighting, needs to remain the most natural—remember to respect and work WITH people’s skin tones, never work to “correct” them!).

The difference is subtle and I’m not sure it makes it better but it certainly makes the colors more... separate.

That’s it for adjustment layers! Here’s what it looks like as you turn on each layer. I’ll show you my sharpening method after this!

Sharpening

So I’m using three sharpening layers (technically not layers, but smart filters) these days. It can take longer for the computer to render it, but I’m loving the results.

As long as whatever is in the timeline is currently a Smart Image, then you can turn them on and off and change their opacity and this is a powerful way to make sure things are both smooth and not over-sharpened!

Here are the specs for each of the sharpening layers in the order that I usually turn them on:

Sharpen.

Smart sharpen. [Amount: 500px, Radius: 0.3, Reduce Noise: 20%, Remove: Gaussian Blur]

Smart sharpen. [Amount: 10, Radius: 10.0, Reduce Noise: 4%, Remove: Gaussian Blur]

But here’s the deal: those will over-sharpen and no matter how you move the sliders, you’ll find there’s nothing you can do. SO! You just tone down the overall effect by clicking on the icon to the right of the sharpening layer:

And then you can change the blending mode and opacity of each sharpening layer. I keep all of the Blending Modes on Normal, then change the opacity:

Sharpen. [Opacity: 64%]

Smart Sharpen. [Opacity: 100%]

Smart Sharpen. [Opacity: 100%]

It’s possible you’ll move these opacity sliders all over to make this look good! Always depends on how much of the image your subject is taking up and how good the quality of the original footage is.

And then of course, here’s the final product!

And...

If you want an example of what this Vibrance layer method can do for dark Mr. Robot footage, check this out:

Hope that gets the gears turning for y’all. I’m looking forward to seeing what you guys do, and if you have any cool adjustment layer ideas that come about as a result of these, please share! I love seeing new, experimental ideas!

cc: @ilygwilym​ and @xmxisxforxmaybe​ who said they’d be interested in this 😀

[atendersun-archived]

It was new, Muukun was learning like PChan had to learn about humans. No one was the same, though his secretions worked really well with persons of shy natures or even-better for randy folk, he didn't want Muu to be so delirious in pleasure that was forced from his subconsciousness, though he believed it may help the other man, PChan hummed as he settled on the human's bed. Arms cradling one of his the many plush dolls as he thought in wonder in what the other had in mind for their first time being a little more handsy.

The shower was running so Pchan stayed far away from the killer liquid and instead stared around the others room. Taking in their bedding, the set up of tables, the bookshelves and things of many interests that Muu had. It was a slow process, but soon enough, Muu was here! PChan's mood easily heightened with his grin growing, no unease shown as he had a feeling that Muu muu would be nervous to heck in a way that was mostly noted in how he rambles with a fixated topic.

"Muu! C'mere." Hand pats the bed next to him, though he uncurls from the seat he was in to sit up and place the plush right where he got it. "I have an idea." He clapped a set of hands, fingers easing off his own shirt in a swift fwoosh, so that his secondary arms could ooze from his ribs and stretch into use. "Trust me, trust me." He grinned away, reaching for Muu's hands, to tug the male closer, and not so much next to him but over his lap. Pchan flopped backwards, hands on the human's hips over towel and the other set stroking at Muu's wrist and hand. "Like this, so you don't feel trapped. You can do whatever you want and I'll do what you ask, okay?" Though for now, Pchan's legs hung off the edge with a light stretch in his thighs and his smile parted with pride at his decision.

"I don't know how to be slow - so I will be learning too, but you can tell me to stop with a big no, anytime. I'll listen." He nodded with a firm one, before he softened up with a memory he refused to think about at current. Thus, his hands were already tugging away the towel his friend wore to toss aside. "Naked is fun, no shame, Muukun is pretty and handsome and perfect. Promise." Pchan was already nude after all from the waist down, his shirt was the last thing to be removed.

With a duo set of hands, he gently took hold of Muu's shoulders to tug the human down so he could hold him, nude to nude. Hands on his spine, in his hair, nape and hip. "No shame, no shame. Only fun and learning together... okay? Exploring is fun!"

For someone as attentive and thoughtful as himself, it was somewhat worrying how he managed to make it to the age of twenty four before learning about different kinds of drain fixtures that a tub could be adjusted to have. Likely no other man his age had to go through the necessary steps to have the completely uncovered without a stopper style tub drain he had with one completely with the teeniest, tiny holes only water could pass through. As much as he made peace with the fact that the irrational fear he held over monsters sneaking into his bathroom via the tub was very much so an example of a teenager's hold on imagination running too wild, he still didn't want to risk his chances by being in such a vulnerable state as taking a shower nonetheless.

All day had been grossly sticky from the overcast of humidity and passing storms in neighboring areas that even just a day out shopping with an alien at his side made him feel in need of a good wash. Any thought to bring in clothes with him as he took in with him an ordinary plain blue towel was completely overtaken by the decision to relocate the friendly, but still fear inducing pooch into a sectioned off part of the living room for neither pet or friend to get into any unruly situations with him preoccupied with washing up.

His time spent drenched under cool, but not entirely cold water only lasted roughly fifteen minutes as any longer and he was at risk of either boredom, or too deep into some fictional narrative he was conducting from behind a space themed shower curtain. Hair had been thoroughly cleaned and rinsed with honeysuckle scented shampoo and body wash instead of his usual due to that particular scent being out of stock during his latest shopping trip. It had taken him a truthful period of half an hour to just to settle on the replacement be finally decided on as he perhaps dancing around in indecisiveness would somehow make his routine fall back into place.

He'd at least found that it balanced better with his other light scented products to not make him completely overwhelmed with different senses going off at one time. That, and the bottle was beautifully decorated with not only flowers, which he enjoyed to some extent, but with his favorite color yellow as well. Soaping up and clearing away the accumulated suds took twice as long as the time dedicated to the locks upon his head did. By then, at least he'd known he was far less clammy with the salty residue left behind by the copious amounts of sweat that layered itself over him throughout the day.

That alone had him feeling much more comfortably set in his own skin, and ready to spend time alongside his friend yet again. Each second spent trailing back to his room to slip on a clean pair of underwear and some shorts was spent suggesting different things he and the other would do between themselves, such as the things he'd maybe show off to them, or games he'd suggest giving a shot seeing as very few times did he have the opportunity to play a boardgame that wasn't single-player.

Those ideas were more than thrown out the exact second he bypassed through his door to find a Pchan in a completely unexpected state than when he'd left him. He knew he had been very persistent in his reassurances that he was comfortable getting to know more about the parts of the alien he had never taken the time to know in the earlier years in his friendship, but he didn't expect that to translate into seeing multiple limbs and an exposed lower region all at once. It was incredibly bold of the other to say the least; however, it was a bit too much so that it started the already easily shaken smaller of the two.

While emotionally he may have been experiencing a lot of conflicted and intimated feelings all at once at not only witnessing his friend stark before him, but from then having to reciprocate that same level of nakedness seconds later as be walked over to the bed as directed, he logically was more aware of himself to know his safety was not in any way compromised with Pchan of all people guiding him into something similar they'd already done days earlier.

Of course that didn't necessarily make his chest beat any less erratic, or his hands attempt to nervously situate themselves into a spot. Uncertain, he maneuvered them in such a way where they first began at his front, shielding himself from being seen, or brushed over in any way. Soon, however, at the genuinely affection being shown to him by the appendages at his back, hair, neck, and midsection in manners that only provided him comfort and safety, he tried to return the favor by some means. One hand went to gently run fingers through the aliens hair, while the other simply ran itself very lightly up and down the other's back for some support of his own.

"Ah.. How.. how did Pchan know what the next step was? To holding?"

[dailybeastarsthings]

Chapter 4 - Can This Day Get Any Worse? 4.1. It's Not Easy Being A Bunny

The school’s cafeteria is one of the main areas where all students can meet with each other without any boundaries. The area was designed to be able to serve all kinds of animals regardless of their species and sizes. The main area was dissected into three larger levels, which looked like platforms. They were bordered by wooden walls planted with succulents and tiny shrubs to create a greener atmosphere. The roof was made out of glass to ensure that natural light can always get inside. In the four corners and the middle of the cafeteria, there were large oak trees planted with decks on multiple branches. This served as the dining area for smaller animals, such as mice, squirrels or songbirds. The tree was specially developed so its leaves would rarely fall, in order to avoid any accidents.

The cafeteria was packed for dinner, as usual. Students lined up at the kitchen ladies, who served them the food. The meals were specially chosen and prepared to satisfy both herbivore and carnivore students. Each day, there were separate meals for carnivores and herbivores. Today, carnivores were given steamed soy beans, egg salad, black bean pastries and milk, while herbivores were given vegetables boiled in soy milk, fruit parfaits and orange juice. Of course, if a carnivore student preferred something from the herbivore menu, they could change their meals and vice versa.

In the mass of animals, there was a small Netherlands dwarf rabbit girl. Her name was Haru. Her fur was pure white with no marks or any other colors. Her eyes were pitch black. One could easily get lost in them, wondering what thoughts were being kept secret behind them. She was quite short even for her species so she wore shoes with thicker soles to add to her height. As she walked along the line, her uniform was flowing in the air.

Today’s dinner is my favorite, I just can’t wait to eat it!” she thought. “Now I just need to find a place to sit.”

She paced the area for free seats and found three tables with free seats. First, she walked up to a female mongoose student.

“I’m sorry, may I sit here?” Haru asked.

“Umm… Sorry, but I’m waiting for my friend” the mongoose replied.

Next, Haru walked up to a feline student, who didn’t even pay much attention to her. It seemed like she recognized her and since the situation was too awkward for her, she just went back to eating without saying anything.

Haru was a bit annoyed, but she still had one option, a group of rabbits.

“Hey, may I sit with you, please?” Haru asked them.

But they were so busy chatting they didn’t even hear her question. Haru’s ears drooped but she wasn’t the type of girl to get upset over a situation like this. She walked outside and sat down on the stairs to enjoy her meal.

“Oh well, I’m sitting alone behind the building but at least the food is delicious” she thought as she was eating her meal in silence. She suddenly heard another student calling for her. It was her roommate, Sally.

“Haru! There you are.”

“Oh, hey, Sally. Are you heading back to the dorm?”

“Well… umm… yeah. Why are you eating your food alone in this place? Don’t you think it’s too dangerous for a small herbivore like you to be alone after the incident?”

“Well… It’s better than eating alone in the cafeteria. Anyway, if you’re so worried about me, why don’t we have dinner together?”

“Oh… Sorry, I can’t. I can’t be seen together with you. Everyone in the school knows what you did.”

“Well, that figures” Haru sighed. “Everyone’s been avoiding eye contact with me for two days now…”

“Mizuchi is really mad about it. Take it from your roommate, okay? Try to act less resilient.”

And with that, Sally walked off without saying goodbye, leaving Haru by herself. Haru lost herself in her thoughts…

“Is it just me? When an animal is as small as I am, their body will sometimes shake uncontrollably from the pressure of their own heartbeat. If I were to just follow my instincts, I would just keel over and never get back up.”

Haru sighed. For the first time, she felt lonely. Yet she was determined to not allow it to get to her and stand up from this situation even stronger. She finished her meal and went to the main building. She still had some homework to do for tomorrow and wanted to finish it in the library. As she was going up the spiral stairs for small animals, a walnut shell fell down in front of her. And then a couple others followed, but this time, they landed straight on her head.

“What the…”

“Oops, my bad! My hand slipped” said a high-pitched voice.

“Did you get hurt?” asked another one.

“Oh, you’re probably fine, aren’t you? No doubt some boy will come running to save you!” a third added.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m fine” Haru replied. “Nothing you do can hurt me.”

Haru continued her walk up the stairs, trying to ignore the laughs of the other three girls, but she suddenly came face to face with them. It was Mizuchi and her two allies, a black cat and a raccoon. Mizuchi was a harlequin rabbit and a pretty popular student in Cherryton. If anyone, she could completely destroy someone’s reputation with a gossip in just a few days’ time.

“I guess all of your friends are ignoring you…” she said. “And yet, you’re still holding out quite well. But you do understand your situation don’t you? No one wants to deal with you” she said with the most satisfied smile on her face.

Haru didn’t mind the harsh words Mizuchi threw at her just now. She picked up one of the walnut shells and threw it at her.

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t have time to deal with you or your little friends so bye” Haru said while passing the others without even looking at them.

“Hey! I’m not finished with you!” Mizuchi yelled.

“If you’ve got enough time to spread rumors about me, you surely have enough time to make up with your boyfriend.”

“You have no right to say that! You’re the one who split us up in the first place!”

“I’m sorry, but he’s the one who kissed me. I don’t know what you were told and I don’t really care either” Haru said while turning around with a smug look on her face. “Still, a buck who’d get infatuated over a little kiss isn’t worth much if you ask me.”

And that was it. Right then and there, Mizuchi was destroyed and she knew it. The frustration caused her two-toned face to turn completely red. She picked up the janitor’s water bucket and threw the water at Haru, who fell to the ground.

“Listen well. We were a harlequin rabbit couple. Harlequin rabbits are an endangered species. We’re on a completely different league with obvious pedigree. And yet you, a plebian dwarf rabbit, went and destroyed that couple! How dare you! We’re going to spread rumors that you’re messing with other male students as well.”

Haru was not surprised by Mizuchi’s reaction but she was still a bit upset. Her clothes and fur were dripping wet and the other three were laughing at her.

“Let’s go girls” Mizuchi said. “You should really pick yourself up from the floor, Haru. Or don’t. It suits you anyway.”

And with that, the terrible trio was finally gone. Their footsteps echoed in the corridor for a few moments but with each passing second, they became quieter. Haru stood up and looked at herself. Her clothes were dripping wet. Fortunately, the water didn’t get into her bag, so at least her schoolwork was safe. She looked for the nearest restroom and walked inside. She went inside one of the stalls, closed the door and hung her dress on the door. She sat on top of the toilet seats and started the rest of her homework.

“Well, it’s not the library but at least no one should bother me here” she thought.

It didn’t take Haru to finish her school work. She completed an essay and two multiple choice exercises and was ready to go. She reached out for her uniform, which was almost completely dry. She got dressed, exited the stall and washed her hands.

“I don’t want to go back to the dorm yet… I’ll just spend some time around the back of the gym” she thought.

She looked in the mirror and took a good look at herself.

“When males see this face, they start to approach me thinking »I want to help her« or »I want to protect her«… But when they realize that I’m different from their fantasies, they use me and eventually leave. Right… The winners of this world are the animals who live by their feral instincts. I was destined to be a loser. I lived a life of being used as fodder for other animals.”

It was already late when Haru exited the main building. It was really quiet all over the school and only a few lights were on in the dorms. A thin layer of mist was resting lightly on the ground, deterring from Haru’s way as she took her steps towards the gym. It almost felt to her like even the mist didn’t want to touch her anymore. She reached the gym and headed towards the fountain in front of it.

Haru was always mesmerized by the dancing water. She didn’t know why, but she enjoyed looking at it for hours, enjoying the sight of the little drops being painted into colorful gems by the surroundings or silver tears by the moonlight. It was a place where she could calm herself down in all cases – exams, arguments, family life… But the peace and harmony didn’t feel the same this time. She felt as if someone was watching her. She heard a rustle from the gym’s entrance.

“Someone’s here. But who could it be? Do they know who I am? Do they want to hurt me? Or… can it be the one who killed that alpaca?”

She heard the rustle once again… The other one moved closer to her… Tears started to flow from Haru’s eyes. Her legs were trembling. She wanted to run but her legs wouldn’t move – they were heavy as stones.

“I’ll let you have me… But please… Just once in my pathetic life…Give me a reason to run away in fear… Give me a reason to cry in fear… Give me a reason to value my life…”

With all these thoughts in her head, she started running towards the arches. She couldn’t even make two steps though when she could feel her body being grabbed by large hands with sharp claws… She was trapped. And yet, she felt completely calm.

“Could you understand what valuing your life is?” she thought. “He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t have to. I can feel that his desires resonate with mine. I’m just glad they are not here to see me like this…”

[fanfics-with-coffee]

Cold Days, Warm Nights

What could go wrong when you and your boyfriend goes to the Christmas market for a date? Hopefully nothing if your loud mouthed hero could learn to keep his mouth shut sometimes.

This is a secret Santa gift (also posted to my AO3) for the lovely @hisfireheart but I hope everyone here will enjoy this cute fic too, despite being wayyy past Christmas. Time is just a concept anyways. (This secret santa was hosted on @myherowritings​ ‘s discord server)

Genre: Seasonal fluff! Pairing: Bakugou x Bri Words: 4000+

The buildings were passing by, the sun softly reflecting on their windows and storefronts. Even the snow was shimmering, slowly melting away where it was too thin. Luckily the bus was keeping you warm inside, a murmur of excited couples and parents talking to their children was keeping the mood high. You couldn’t help but carry a soft smile on your face, half-listening to them and half lost in your own head. Luckily you were present enough to see that your stop was coming up. It was empty enough so you could just grab your bag and get out of your seat, smoothly approaching the door, prepared to step out into the winter paradise.

As difficult as the snow could be, it couldn’t be said it didn’t help the atmosphere this close to Christmas. And they were impressively quick with removing the snow from the road, letting every commuter rest easy knowing they wouldn’t be late. And people could just enjoy the cold weather, the warm drinks, and the festivities. It was one of the things you had been waiting for, the festivities. Especially the Christmas market, the one you had heard so much about from friends who had been earlier years. How they had gushed about the lights which shone long past midnight and the food which could be smelled from streets away. If the cold hadn’t given you a stuffy nose that was.

Finally, the doors to the bus opened, letting you and a couple of other people off at the stop. You made sure to watch your step, not wanting to trip the first thing you do. But the street was steady and you kept your balance, walking a few feet away before daring to take in your surroundings.

And you looked up. The buildings crowding the view and the streets that were squeezed in between them in a claustrophobic state had suddenly taken a step aside, allowing a stone-paved market place to spread out. The sky had suddenly come into view, giving you a view of the blue space, and the clouds lazily drifting across it. But there was no way you could see the other side of the square, at least not from this angle. Instead, you saw the multiple stands set up by the buzzing people, some were big tents you could walk into. Others were walk-by tables with knick-knacks or foods splayed across the surfaces. And somewhere in the distance music could be heard. But the pride and joy of the festival could easily be seen from where you were standing, a tree towering above everything. Clad in lights and colorful glitter, ribbons, and baubles. It was breathtaking, no doubt about it. Yet there was something missing and you didn’t need to think to know what it was.

Your date.

“Oi, Bri, are you blind or something?” A voice disrupted the sirene environment, forcing you to turn your head towards the awfully familiar voice. It came as no surprise that you recognized it as Bakugou met your eyes. Standing only a couple of paces away under an old-timey lamp post which was– of course– also clad for the occasion. You were even less surprised that he was bundled up in so many layers, it was impossible to see just how many he had. Who even knows how many were hiding under his outerwear.

“Nope, it’s just hard to recognize you when you look more like a coat hanger than my boyfriend.” You smiled smugly while approaching him, taking in his form, or rather the lack of it, as you did so.

The thick beige jacket was obviously layered over another thick jumper and the loose jeans were most likely hiding undergarments like tights. You could even see the red, warm socks sticking up above the high edge of his boots yet the scarf around his neck was hiding most of his face. It did delight you though that the silly beanie you had bought last year, the one with the round tassel which he said looked like a ‘damn cat toy’, was pulled down on his head and covered his ears.

“Maybe if you think I look like a damn coat hanger, we could find you one and you could go on a date with that thing instead.” He pulled his scarf down below his chin, finally letting you see his face properly. And let you see the unamused expression he was giving you, apparently not too pleased with your jab at his outfit.

“Nooo! I want to go with you! Plus this outfit may actually give us some privacy. No way people can see I’m here with THE ‘Dynamight’ when you look like that. So I’m a fan.” You smiled, pulling on the front of his jacket, going up on your tip-toes, and tilting your head up to indicate that you wanted some affection.

It came as a habit for him to lean down, giving you a peck on the lips quickly before pulling back. Had he thought about it, it would be questionable that you would’ve received a kiss after how you’ve been acting since meeting up. But having done it so many times before, greeting you with these kisses, he didn’t have the time to think about it.

“Mgh, careful, or that’s the only kiss you’ll be receiving for the rest of the day.” He threatened, pulling up the scarf to save himself from the cold.

“What? Oh come on, I doubt that. Now let’s go take a look around or I’m going to get frozen to the ground.” You bounced on your heels, taking his gloved hand in yours before dragging him along with you. But it only took him a moment to catch up with you, walking right beside you in between the first red stalls.

“Careful, dumbass, you’re gonna slip if you bounce-walk like that. I’ve already seen two extras fall on their asses.”

You just hummed in response, used to his worrying expressed in the rather crude remarks or comments. You were much more interested in finally exploring the market and everything in it.

As you two entered, your heart began beating a little harder. What you had been spectating from the outside was now all around you and with each stall you passed, the energy was raised. The hand holding yours was also tightening as the crowd got denser but you could still easily see between the other groups of people. He had always been like that since you began dating. Or at least since he began holding your hand in public for more than 2 minutes before getting too embarrassed and pulling away, opting to just stand close to you instead. He held your hand as if he was afraid you’d get swept away by a flood of people if he dared let go. The fact that his gloves were warm also helped you forget the fact that yours were way too thin for the season.

You swerved between bodies, casting looks to the different hand made crafts as you passed by, looking for something to catch your eye. There were so many things you struggled to know where to start until you saw a stall that looked interesting. Filled with Christmas ornaments, what stuck out to you was the little needle felted Santas and reindeers.

“Bakugou, look! Aren’t those cute? They even have matching Mr. and Mrs. Claus ones.” You had stopped right in your tracks to point towards the counter where they proudly stood. He looked to you before following your hand. There were a couple of other people standing around it, holding different ornaments and chatting to each other. Bakugou didn’t say much, instead pulling you along to take a closer look.

As you got closer to the stall, you also shuffled closer together to fit in right in front of the counter. The warmth from whatever heater they were using to keep the owners warm was also radiating out to anyone who got close, letting them shield themselves from the cold. And hanging along the roof of the stall were fairy lights, reflecting off the beads used as eyes for the reindeer’s carefully hung alongside them. It was a delightful sight and you wasted little time picking up one of the needle felted Santas and inspecting it.

“Look at this one, it’s cheeks are all rosy. And you can hang it in the tree, too!” You giggled, turning your upper body to show Bakugou what you had found while softly pulling on it's string. But to your surprise, he had already been looking at you, but not at what you were holding. His bright red eyes met yours for only a second before he looked to the little thing you were holding.

“Huh? Uh yeah, I guess you can..” He sounded a little distracted when he responded, leaning in closer to take a better look at the Santa. As he did, you could feel his hand land on your waist, making sure you couldn’t drift apart as you stood there. For once you were happy your nose and cheeks were already rosy from the cold, otherwise you would’ve suddenly looked a lot more like the Santa you were holding. “Do you need more ornaments, Bri? I thought yours looked pretty packed already when I saw it last time.”

“Ah I guess I don’t… Oh well, it was cute but you’re right.” You let out a disappointed sigh, placing it back where it stood right next to his wife. You stood and looked at some of the other things they sold but there wasn’t anything else you felt like buying so soon enough, you two departed.

You kept walking, jumping from stall to stall to see what they had. One sold woodworkings of different kinds, another had metalwork with a rustic look, a third sold candies which lined the walls in bright, fun colors. Wherever you looked there was something that you could imagine yourself buying and you wanted to take a closer look at all of them. Your boyfriend came with you each time you expressed an interest in this and that. But each time you ended up either feeling like it wasn’t something you needed, or doubted yourself so you left them behind. Bakugou didn’t say much about it, instead talking about your plans for the holidays and what you should eat together.

You entered one of the larger tents where they sold all kinds of clothing, Bakugou following right behind you.

“Do you remember what recipe we used for those butterscotch candies last year? You know those that my old hag really liked, she keeps pestering me about asking you to make her a batch of them.” Bakugou was basically looking over your shoulder as he spoke, watching you look at one of the many dresses they had hung up on the tent walls. His chest was just barely pressing against your back, a comforting reminder that he was there.

“Sure, I know I saved it somewhere on my phone so that shouldn’t be a problem…” You spoke softly, letting your eyes roam over the material. You pulled it out with one hand to get a better look, getting lost in its pattern.

“... Do you like it? Do you need more dresses?” Bakugou had paused for a moment before he had spoken, noticing how you looked at the dress. But after he had asked, you just sighed again and let it go while shaking your head.

“No, not really...”

You didn’t really need any of the things you had found at the market and Bakugou kept asking about it. ‘Do you need it?’ was something he had kept saying all afternoon. While you appreciate that he stopped you from making unnecessary purchases, it was getting a little much. He was a man of necessities, if he didn’t need it to have a comfortable life then he probably didn’t have it. Not counting the All Might merch hidden in his closet that is. But he struggles to understand why you get things you don’t need, making shopping with him a little difficult sometimes. Like now.

But you didn’t think too much about it, instead looking around the tent for something else to look at before going out into the cold again. And what you see makes you smile from ear to ear. A whole wall filled with ugly Christmas sweaters. You wasted no time bouncing over to the wall, a delighted gasp leaving your lips. You grabbed one and held it in front of you, turning around to show the blonde who’d you left behind, stunned at your sudden rush.

“Well? What do you think, babe?” You smiled and did a pose as you showed off the sweater, letting him read it.

“I have a big package for you?” He stared at it with a sudden deadpan look before looking back up at your face. “Seriously? And with a half-naked Santa on it? That’s so fucking dumb.”

“I know right? That’s kind of the point!” You laughed and hung it back up, pulling out another one and holding it in front of you. The bells on it jingled and you did a little dance, your giggles mixing in with the sound of the sweater. And then you grabbed another one, the big plushie Rudolf on it awful but also kinda cute.

“You’re not buying one of those right? They’re absolutely terrible.” Bakugou had finally walked up beside you to look at all the shirts too, touching one that was just covered in Christmas tinsel while wearing a disgusting face.

“I dunno, maybe it’ll be your upcoming Christmas present? What do you think? I could even buy one of those two-person ones so we could wear it together.” You pulled yet another shirt off and held it out in front of the two of you this time, giving him a goofy smile. It was at that moment, with the shirt in front of him and the dim lights reflecting in your eyes while you laugh, that he felt his heart skip a beat. And for a split moment, he considered if it was such a bad idea to share an ugly Christmas sweater with you.

“Tch, be careful with what you’re saying, princess. You don’t want to get on Santa’s naughty list right before Christmas.” He retaliated but the pause before he said anything hinted that maybe you could actually convince him. But that was for another day, and if it was to be a Christmas gift you couldn’t buy it now anyway.

“Alright, fineeee. But I think we’d look cute.” You smiled and hung the sweater back where you found it before finally turning your back on the shirts. You were about to say you two should leave but in the corner of your eye, you saw something new. Mittens, gloves, and beanies were all set up at the front of the tent.

You walked up to the boxes with the different handwear and looked around. Then you found something that made your eyes light up. A pair of beige gloves in leather, their inside and edges decorated with soft light and grey fur. Hanging off of the opening were two strings with cute fluff balls at the ends. They looked amazing and by trying one on, you realized how much warmer they were compared to the thin textile ones you had. You admired them for a bit, not even noticing Bakugou who had sneaked up beside you again, watching your hands.

“What about those? Do you need new gloves?”

“Actually, I do.” You smiled as you looked up at him and then back at the gloves, taking off the one you were wearing to hold them in your hands. “I think… I’m going to buy them.”

You then looked up to see the prize and suddenly you froze. They were… very expensive. They must be real leather or something, they were quality anyways. But to drop that amount of money just like that wasn’t something you could just do, especially not this close to Christmas.

“Oh, uhm well maybe not. They’re a bit much, plus mine work fine. I’m not outside that much anyway.” You felt a pang of sadness in your chest but put the gloves back, turning to Bakugou who was just watching you silently.

“Alright. Well, I’m getting cold and hungry so do you want to go buy something to eat then instead?” He looked towards the exit casually and you realized that you were actually getting pretty hungry yourself so it sounded like an amazing idea.

“Sounds good! We could go eat it by the tree too, we haven’t been there yet and I want to see the band playing.” Both of you headed to the opening of the tent, standing beside it to discuss the plan.

“Why don’t you go buy the food and I’ll get some dessert from that pastry cart we saw a while back? We can meet at the tree when we’re done.” He pulled out some money and handed it to you.

“Cool! I want that saffron one with the vanilla filling!” You were excited to try out the pastries, they had looked amazing when you passed by. Bakugou nodded before motioning that you should get going. You put your hands in your pockets to hide them from the outside before nodding back and heading down the street.

The sun had set quite some time ago and even more of the lights were now lit. Fairy lights and stars hanging from stall to stall above the temporary streets. Some people had set up blinking Christmas lights that changed from red to green to white, all to catch people’s attention. Clouds had also rolled across the sky, hiding the moon from sight. All around you couples were walking, hand in hand. Their breaths showed in the cold air as they softly spoke or laughed with one another. Then you see one of the food stalls sponsored by a local café you frequently visited.

It took a couple of minutes before you could order and a little longer to get your order but soon enough you had a bag with your food and carrying a holder with two hot chocolates. Using the big, bright tree to navigate the market, you made your way to the center.

The fantastic fir was the centerpiece of the winter market, multiple benches having been placed around it for people to sit. Other benches and picnic tables were scattered around the big place where people could sit down, rest, and eat whatever they bought at the market. And across the space from you, you could see the band still playing, a choir singing Christmas songs while kids sang along in the audience. While looking around you see the tassel which you had been watching bounce all day and your boyfriend just happened to be attached to it as well.

“Hey, Bakugou! Are you blind or something?” You grin and walk over to him, seeing him look up from his phone bewildered by your sudden shout. “Sorry, I just had to. But I got the food and…” You hold up the cup holder proudly. “Hot chocolate.”

“Good job, now let’s find somewhere to eat.” He smiled a little at the news, not even he could decline the sweet warmth of hot chocolate on a cold winter night.

After having eaten the food and the pastries, you only had half of the hot chocolate left which you had decided to drink while standing near the band to enjoy the music. You watched the musicians as they played, it looked so easy for them and they looked so happy playing in front of everyone there. You took a sip of your beverage, letting its warmth slide down your throat and into your belly, letting it warm up your body from the inside out. Then you feel a soft bump of your hand, then another one. You look down and see Bakugou’s finger trying to hook onto yours. Looking up at his face, he’s intently staring at the band, his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly as if he was focusing on something. How could he be so timid after years of dating still surprised you sometimes. But you smiled at him even if he wasn’t looking and grabbed onto his hand. He tensed for a second before relaxing and adjusting his hand so he could intertwine his fingers with yours.

“I can’t believe I didn’t buy a single thing at the market apart from food.” You complained, though not seriously. It just felt a little silly after being so excited for the market. You took the moment to inch closer to the taller man beside you, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Why? I mean, you obviously liked some of the stuff you looked at.” He let his crimson eyes fall on you, confused by your comment. If you wanted to buy something, why hadn’t you?

“Well like you said, I didn’t really NEED any of the stuff I looked at. It’s just stuff so I didn’t want to waste money on it.”

“Alright, but why do you regret not buying anything then?” Bakugou just didn’t get it at times. You couldn’t help but let out a sort of melancholy laugh.

“Because I really liked it… But it’s stupid, they’re not necessary.” You were getting embarrassed by your own problems now. But it seemed it finally struck a chord with Bakugou and he blinked in surprise at mostly himself.

“... Well if you really liked it then you should buy it. Everything you own doesn’t have to be a necessity, as long as you enjoy them and they make you happy. O-or something like that. Just because I don’t like having useless crap doesn’t mean you can’t get shit like that. Just don’t spend it on stuff you won’t use.” Bakugou didn’t dare to look at you after saying something so corny, instead choosing to look at the band. You, on the other hand, looked up at him with wide eyes. You took a short step away from him to really get a proper look at his face. He noticed your staring and ended up staring back, a blush clearly spreading across his cheeks but if you asked, he would claim it was the cold. You weren’t sure what to say though, at these words of encouragement and he couldn’t stand the silence.

“So, uh… maybe you shouldn’t be getting necessities as a present either so…” He let go of your hand and stuffed it into his pocket, pulling out something you couldn’t quite make out. “Don’t blame me for it not being wrapped though.”

He held out his hand and laying on his palm were the gloves you had been looking at before. You took a second before grabbing them with one hand, looking at them in awe.

“But… These were really expensive, Bakugou”

“So? I don’t mind, and they’re good quality so they’ll last you way longer than any of your shitty ones.” He grabbed your cup, letting you take off your old gloves and putting on the new ones. You put your old ones in your own pocket before looking back at Bakugou and grinned.

“They’re so soft! I love them… Thank you.” You looked into his eyes and then a thought popped into your head.

You grabbed his scarf with one hand, pulling it down and pulling him down so you could comfortably put your other hand on his cheek. With him holding the cups of hot chocolate, you had no problem stealing another kiss from him. This time pressing your warm lips against his for a couple of seconds. This kiss was probably warmer and sweeter than any hot chocolate you could make so you savored it for as long as you could. Just before you had pressed your lips against his and closed your eyes, you had seen the shock in his face but just as quickly he had closed his eyes too, melting into the kiss like ice on a sunny day.

“I love you, Katsuki.” You whispered when you finally pulled away and opened your eyes, watching his own eyes open. You stared right into those deep vermillion eyes of his, feeling a smile grow on your face as you spoke.

“I love you too, Brianna…” He was still a little dazed when he spoke and you let go of his scarf, letting him straighten his back. As he did so, something fell into view and landed on his head. And then another and yet another. Snow had begun to fall all around you, some melting against the stone ground while others stuck to stall roofs, trees, and lamp posts.

You looked around, as did he, and watched as others looked up at the sky and kids excitedly ran around or tried to catch the snowflakes in their mouths. It was cute.

“Well I guess I had great timing with my gift, huh” Bakugou muttered as he looked up to the sky too.

“Yeah, it couldn’t have been better. But it’s getting cold and late, maybe we should start to head back. Plus I kinda want to buy some of the stuff I saw today.” You took your cup from his hand and then grabbed the now empty hand with yours. You started to leave, walking towards the exit of the market together.

“Sure but don’t buy everything, I kinda need to figure out a new Christmas gift for you now... You’re pretty annoying, you know that right?”

“Sure, Bakugou. Sure.”

[itsuki-minamy]

“REISI CASTLE”

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

There was a heavy silence on the location bus.

Inside the bus are the popular units of "Promotion, Scepter 4", the members of "Hayayumetai". Their expressions light up brightly during the live performances, but they darkened evenly. Some close their eyes, some look at the ceiling, others look at their feet. As a troop transport just before battle.

Suddenly, one of the "Hayayumetai", Tatsuya Enomoto, looked up as if he couldn't bear it.

He mumbles in a small voice.

"This is a "countdown".”

"......"

There was no response to that comment. They did not ignore it; they did not want to face reality.

"Countdown Dissolution, (Hayayumetai)", "Promotion Scepter 4" is now the most popular variety show nationwide.

Hayayumetai's "Blue Idol King", Reisi Munakata, responds to difficulties and despite his struggle, has gained great popularity regardless of gender or generation.

However, if he tries to do it, it does not accumulate.

Fortunately, it is popular, but depending on the project, he can send them to South America, the Arctic, or skydiving from 2,000 meters above the sky. They felt this crisis in their lives once or twice, making Hayayumetai's members more afraid of the countdown.

Unfortunately, the countdowns are not announced in advance. One day, they are suddenly called, put on a location bus and transported to the recording location, as they are now.

Kamo says, wrinkling his brows.

"This time, at least we should do it in Japan."

"Kamo, did you go to the Amazon river before? How to make sashimi with a giant bagre.”

“I explored abandoned mines. The toxic gas was building up here and there, and I was almost inhaling it.”

"I came back alive and well..."

"I wish it was survival on an uninhabited island. Well, in the second half my life was quite stable.”

"I do not know. They may tell you to survive in the desert.”

Everyone anticipates the next project, but everyone understood that the conversation was meaningless. Simply speaking, to allay anxiety, the brute force of the "Blue Idol King" always exceeds his expectations.

Finally, the location bus stopped.

At the same time, the "Hayayumetai" conversation stops. Akiyama got up first, followed by Benzai. His appearance as they got off the bus was more like a group of prisoners on death row than an idol unit.

They got out of the bus and looked around. Someone said to himself.

"Is it a tunnel?"

Dim passages extend before and after the location bus, and lighting is installed at equal intervals above the head. The fact that no other car is found is because it can be a tunnel that is generally not used for construction or evacuation.

What should I do here When such questions and anxiety came to their minds, a familiar sound came from the speakers on the wall.

"You were right to come, welcome everyone!"

The expression of all the members of the "Hayayumetai" was drawn at once.

Reisi Munakata. He is the president of "Promotion Scepter 4" and a unique person in the world. He is a perfect idol, but he has a bad habit of forcing them to be as perfect as he is.

"By the way, as you may have guessed, this time we are planning the 'Countdown Dissolution, (Hayayumetai)." This is the challenge for you this time.”

At the same time as the words, a heavy sound was heard. The wall just below the speakers opens slowly left and right. What lies ahead is...

"A castle...?"

Beyond the tunnel wall. In an artificial space the size of a baseball stadium, there was a small Japanese castle with a magnificent tower. Surrounded by earthworks and stone walls, moats and turrets, the flags raised here and there bear the "Promotion Scepter 4" emblem.

"Ah, President. This is…?"

Munakata calmly responds to Akiyama.

"This is the castle of" Promotion Scepter 4 ", which I made from design to construction supervision, that is, "The fortress castle of Reisi".”

"Fortress…?"

"Reisi Castle?"

"I ask you to capture this castle now. If you can break through each layer of the castle consisting of multiple assassin tigers, difficult obstacles, and defeat me, if you can defeat me as a castle master, you will complete the capture.”

"Didn't I tell you it was a Countdown Dissolution?!"

"Discarding the game immediately after the capture failed was the usual countdown theory, but this time it was a bit difficult, and we also want to get more work, so we will establish a 10-week challenge period. Everyone, challenge yourself.”

"Oh, I see…"

The members of the "Hayayumetai" looked at each other confused.

Until now, there have been many challenges, such as traveling abroad or surviving, dealing with nature and different cultures. However, this project seems to have a different color. It is not easy to challenge the "Blue Idol King", Reisi Munakata himself.

"That's it, I understand. Can we start the challenge now?”

Daiki Fuse, one of the "Swift Dream Team", raised his voice. Munakata responds.

"Of course. The "Castle Fortress of Reisi" always accepts the challenge of anyone at any time. I await your arrival at the castle tower. Munakata, over.”

The sound is heard and the speaker is interrupted. Fuse's expression directed at other members was brilliant.

"Agree. The good is in a hurry, let's capture it!”

"We will shine as soon as that happens..."

Although Domyoji looks stunned, Fuse stretches his chest,

“Well, if it's a game of physical strength, it's my turn. By the way, this is easier than crossing Eurasia!”

"Sure. It feels easy compared to the previous challenges.”

"I'll help you when it's time, so let's keep trying!"

With that said, Fuse bared his teeth and giggled.

"Waaaaaaaaah! Help meeeeeeeeeeeee!”

"Fuse?! Grab him, he's going to fall!”

It happened while challenging the first barrier of Reisi Fortress Castle, the drawbridge.

Originally it was a drawbridge full of obstacles, but when they reached the middle it broke from the middle and started to climb. The viscous oil overflows from the center of the bridge, as if mocking the impatient "Hayayumetai", and the personnel who emerged from the tower threw a huge ball.

Akiyama and Benzai, who had reached the top of the drawbridge earlier, were trying to pull on the remaining comrades. At the tip of the arrow, the thrown ball directly hit Fuse's face, keeping his conscience away for a moment.

Nothing catches Fuse's body that has started to slide.

 "Helpppppppp...!"

His figure was sucked into the bottom of a dark moat.

"Fu-, Fuseee!"

Hey! Don't be afraid, more attacks are coming!”

"Let's go!"

The remaining members of the "Hayayumetai" lower their bodies and begin to descend on the drawbridge, crawling.

They were about to cross when the door at the end of the bridge slowly opened.

Beyond that, when the tank appeared with a caterpillar sound, the members of the "Hayayumetai" were equally prepared to die.

++++++++++

"Hayayumetai reaches the second barrier. A trap."

"Activate all D1 to D4. Keep the stream flowing through the Tarai. If it stops moving for a moment, the tank will be clear.”

"Okay. Activate D1 to D4.”

"Hayayumetai. They resist firing with the D3 trap as a shield.”

"Yes, I think it's about time. Activate the E3 trap on the wall. Aim at Akiyama, he won't be able to take control if you crush him.”

"Okay. I will focus on Akiyama-san.”

In the "Castle Fortress of Reisi", in the castle tower...

It was not Reisi Munakata, the guardian of the castle, who used the operator as a limb of his body and constantly attacked the "Hayayumetai".

It is Fushimi Saruhiko, who belongs to "Hayayumetai".

He is a popular "Scepter 4" idol, Fushimi Saruhiko, who should have been a member of "Hayayumetai" himself, has no hesitation in attacking his friends. Rather, about half of the traps installed on each barrier were designed by him. To make sure his program works, one after another, he uses them against the "Hayayumetai".

"Akiyama and Benzai have retired. There are three remaining.”

"This is the end. Release trap E2. They should get away from there, if they don't want to be stabbed.”

"Okay."

Suddenly, a laugh came from inside the castle tower. Fushimi looks at him with a disturbing eye.

"What's happen?"

"Nothing. However, I thought it was a lot of fun.”

Munakata smiles as he sits in the castle chair propping his elbows. On the contrary, the expression of the vice-commander of the castle, Awashima Seri, is strong in contrast.

"Enemies must fight, there is no need to give the enemy a way to escape."

"Huh, I don't know, but you'll be in trouble if they die. It is more efficient to break his hope into pieces.”

"Fufu. It looks so much fun. After all this is better for you.”

Fushimi confronts the smiling Munakata with a click of his tongue.

The glasses reflected light on the screen and hid his expression.

"It's work. There is no fun in this. And…"

"And…?"

“Anyway, if it's the same, better do what needs to be done. It is not like this?"

At those words, the castle's owner, Munakata, laughs softly.

++++++++++

It was only after the tenth week of the end of the challenge period that the "Fortress Castle of Reisi" fell.

A direct battle with Munakata himself was what awaited the remaining "Hayayumetai", who had overcome all difficulties, and presented themselves as a great difficulty.

"Munakata, battou!"

With those words, the hopes of the three remaining members of the "Hayayumetai" were buried in an instant, and they were crushed by great despair. "Countdown Dissolution, (Hayayumetai)" achieved the highest rating of 57%.

[hobbitkiller]

She-Ra, Supergirl, and Tangled: A Tale of Three Female Relationships: Part 3

*SPOILER WARNING FOR SHE-RA, SUPERGIRL, AND TANGLED: THE SERIES*

Previously on “A Tale of Three Female Relationships” AKA HobbitKiller clearly misses grad school but not enough to find secondary sources for a multi-part tublr. post (or thoroughly proofread):

In Part 2, I discussed the impact narcissistic mother figures, resentment for chosen ones, and repressing emotions has had on three female relationships in three different series: Adora and Catra from She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, Lena and Kara from Supergirl, and Rapunzel and Cassandra from Tangled: The Series/Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure.

These posts are a deep dive into where these relationships went wrong and will eventually culminate in a discussion of what these relationships say about the portrayal of female characters and female relationships in media.

For today’s installment, I will be covering two subjects: Blond Bulldozers and I Don’t Care (I Ship It). WARNING: This one gets reallllllly long. Like, possibly multiple sittings.

PART VI: BLOND BULLDOZERS

In my first post in this series, I jokingly mentioned that one half in all three of these relationships is a superpowered blonde who saves the world.

There are of course many implications in the fact that, though all three of these shows strive for increased diversity compared to their source material (It is also interesting that these are all shows based on pre-existing franchises), the main character continues to be a fair-skinned blond woman. 

That’s mostly a matter to be discussed another day, but I do find it interesting that all of these relationships feature one blond and one not-blond. Lena and Cassandra have black hair, and Catra is...well...a cat-person. Beyond that, the blond is not only the hero, but is typically depicted as morally superior and more righteous. Kara, AKA Supergirl, was literally declared the “Paragon of Hope” in the latest CW crossover, Crisis on Infinite Earths. That title could just as easily have gone to Rapunzel whose chief characteristics are her optimism, desire to see others achieve their dreams, and belief that everyone gets a second chance no matter their criminal past and exploits (seriously, everyone in Corona--the name of the kingdom unfortunately for right now--gets one total pardon as long as they’re sorry even if the tried to kill multiple people). Adora is a little less cotton-candy that Kara or Rapunzel. She has the same moral righteousness, but actually has more of an edge to her than many of her friends due to her upbringing as a child soldier. Still, all three blondes are meant, for the most part, to be the moral center of their shows.

But, the thing is, when I look at these relationships, I can’t help but think of another popular blonde/not blonde friendship that went wrong:

Ahhh, Wicked, the prototypical female friendship story for so many of us. Wicked aims to take this classic dynamic of the morally pure blond protagonist and their dark-haired frienemy and turn it a bit on its head. Throughout the musical, Glinda is treated as pure, superior, and good because she is flattering and pretty. In reality, Glinda is often selfish and lacks the courage to stand up to people and systems she believes are wrong. Elphaba, on the other hand, is treated like an outcast because of her green skin and social awkwardness. Yet, for most of the musical, she is the one with the moral righteousness. She is labeled “wicked” by those in power for challenging them and standing up to them.

We’ll discuss Wicked more in the finale of this multi-part post.

For now, I’d like to contrast that relationship to the three being analyzed right now. None of these three shows goes as far as Wicked did to undermine this trope of the perfect blond versus the darker brunette. This makes sense as none of the three properties is seeking to deconstruct their source material or turn it on its head in the way Wicked aims to do so for the Wizard of Oz (the movie more than anything else). They seek to update and diversify certain aspects to be sure (someone heard loud and clear the criticism that there are no people of color in Tangled), but not to challenge them.

That being said, each show does try to layer in flaws in their blond protagonists approach to relationships. These flaws tend to be more subtle than those of the people around them, perhaps to protect said blondes from becoming too unlikeable, but they are clearly there.

In the last post, I talked a lot about the resentment of the non-blondes in these relationships and how that helped lead to the relationships falling apart. Those characters are also much more the aggressors in said relationships and are much more set on taking down the other party.

However, the blondes in each relationship are not without blame for it falling apart.

In the previous post, I discussed how being friends of a so-called “chosen one” or “golden child” can breed resentment. I also mentioned that raising someone as a “golden child” is its own form of abuse. It creates a level of unrealistic expectations to always be perfect and responsible. It can be the same for a “chosen one.”

Adora, Kara, and Rapunzel all feel a tremendous amount of responsibility as the “saviors” of their respective worlds. This manifests itself in a need to constantly “fix” everyone else’s problems. Adora frequently describes her need to fix whatever goes wrong in the Rebellion. Kara feels it’s her job to fix things so much that she contacted her former boss’s estranged son behind her back to try to reconnect them. Rapunzel frequently becomes involved in the personal lives of her friends for the sake of fixing their problems.

To an extent, this is a good quality. All three of our blond saviors have good hearts and don’t want to see anyone else suffer, partially because all of them have suffered their own childhood traumas from being raised as a child soldier to witnessing one’s entire planet and species destroyed to being held prisoner for 18 years.

However, as the title of this section suggests, all three of these characters tend to take a bulldozer approach to their involvement with their loved ones’ lives. This creates tension in many of their relationships, not just those discussed in these posts. Adora’s attempts to help her friend Glimmer after Glimmer becomes queen come off as controlling and as though Adora doesn’t respect Glimmer’s position of authority. Kara, in addition to the incident with her boss’s son, had also tried to control the life of another alien (and eventual boyfriend), Mon El as well as did things like break into her sister’s apartment when she was sad. Rapunzel promises to fix everyone’s problems, which leads to friends feeling betrayed when she can’t follow through. She also frequently intrudes in Cassandra’s life and plans.

One of the most threatening things for people like Catra, Lena, or Cassandra is to feel as though they do not have control over their lives. When you already have trust issues, feeling like someone else is trying to control you can feel like you’re being trapped. Control is particularly important to Lena. In many ways, she has the same feelings of responsibility as Kara. Like Kara, Lena, having been raised by one of the most powerful and influential families on the planet, feels a sense of responsibility to be a world leader. She feels that even more keenly in light of the villainous actions of her mother and brother--that she has to restore honor to the family name. As discussed in the previous post, this feeling in Lena manifests itself in her actions towards her friends through buying them things or trying to solve problems for them such as buying Kara’s and James’s place of work, Catco, to save it from being purchased by a scumbag.

This need to take back control of her life and legacy, to me, is why Lena reacts so drastically to discovering that Kara is Supergirl. Being mad at Kara for keeping secrets is, frankly, hypocritical on several counts. Not only does Lena keep many, many secrets from Kara throughout the show, but she is also fine with the fact that Alex, Kara’s sister, never told Lena explicitly that she was an agent of the Department of Extranormal Operations (DEO). Of course, the reason why Lena wasn’t mad at Alex is because Lena had already known who Alex was, thus giving her power and control in that relationship. Finding out that her friend had successfully hidden her identity for years and had been influencing events without Lena’s knowledge took away the control Lena felt she had over that relationship.

Cassandra also feels a keen lack of control over her life and her relationship with Rapunzel due to the fact that Rapunzel is both her monarch and direct employer. Cassandra serves Rapunzel and that is the first avenue through which they formed a relationship. Early in their relationship, Cassandra resented Rapunzel’s attempts to become friends and said the chance of a Lady in Waiting and a princess becoming friends was a million to one. Rapunzel, by nature of being “irrepressible” (as her friends call her), manages to worm her way into Cassandra’s heart to the point that Cassandra almost forgets that she and Rapunzel are not equals.

What I find interesting about both Cassandra and Lena is that they both, in some ways, considered themselves the protectors of their naive blond friends. While it’s true that Cassandra always knew her station was below Rapunzel, part of her job early on was teaching Rapunzel how to be a member of the court--what to do, when to curtsy, who was who, etc. In fact, Rapunzel had so little exposure to the outside world, Cass was partly responsibly for teaching her how to interact socially in general. There’s also the added factor that Cassandra is 4 years older than Rapunzel, which can seem like a lot at their ages. Lena, as previously discussed, saw herself as a major figure in shaping the future of the world. She went out of her way to help Kara by buying Catco and tried to protect Kara if they were ever in physical danger together.

Both of these characters suffered from an abrupt challenge to the relationship roles they previously thought they had. Cassandra in this scene and Lena when Lex tells her that Kara is Supergirl.

It’s interesting that, in that scene, Lex emphasizes the idea that Lena has been a fool. (And, fair enough, I’m pretty sure everyone who’s ever watched the show found it hard to believe that Lena never once realized her best friend was Supergirl. I mean...really, glasses?) But this idea, that she had been a fool plays right into Lena’s fear of losing control. It’s the idea that someone else was pulling strings while she was oblivious that taps right into her deepest insecurities.

Catra’s issues with feeling controlled by Adora are mostly revealed in the episode discussed last post called “Promise.” They come up again in the third season finale when Adora tries to convince Catra to come with her and leave a world that is crumbling out of existence and Catra declares that she will never  go with Adora, and that she won’t “let you win” and “would rather see the whole world end (which it’s doing BTW) than let that happen.” Catra believes the way to get control back from Adora is to “win” at any cost. 

In the end, this idea of “winning” becomes part of all three relationships. It’s no longer about working together or “us against the world” for the not-blondes who have felt crushed under the weight of their friends. Now it’s about achieving their goals in spite of the collateral damage.

And the most frustrating part is that the blondes are largely oblivious to the fact that they make their friends feel this way or that they are overstepping boundaries. They just think they’re doing the right thing because they’re “taking care of” or “fixing” the problem. They’re so concerned with taking care of or protecting their friends, that they don’t realize how patronizing and condescending that can feel.

So, even as these relationship turn so sour, why are so many people not only rooting for the friendship to return, but for our ladies to go the next level beyond?

PART VII: I DON’T CARE (I SHIP IT)

I sometimes wonder how the greatest point of contention, the biggest source of toxicity, and the most exhausting part of fandom became shipping. I have seen more nastiness among fans and toward creators and actors about shipping than just about anything else.

Shipping has a long history in fandom, though that term is relatively recent. People have been writing fan fiction about Kirk and Spock getting together since the show was on and fan fiction was written and shared at either in-person gatherings or through semi-underground fanzines. 

And, trust me, I’ve been in the trenches of a ship war. Back when Avatar: The Last Airbender was airing, I was a hardcore Zutara shipper. And, to be more honest, it made me a jerk. Part of that is just because I was a teenager at the time, and teenagers don’t always realize the potential impacts of their actions due to brain chemistry etc, etc. But still, the intensity with which I argued that my ship either would or should become canon when the creators of the show clearly preferred the other relationship embarrasses me when I look back at it.

These days, fandom shipping has gotten even more complicated and contentious.

Back when those women (and it was mostly women) were typing their Kirk/Spock fan fiction and mailing it to other fans, they knew Kirk and Spock would never actually get together on the show. That was the case for the majority of fandoms until very recently--that there was no expectations of actual canon lgbtq representation. People could claim there was deliberate subtext or coding, but very few, if any people, expected shows to actually have openly lgbtq characters.

Then, it started to actually happen. Not just in a, “the actor said they saw their character as gay” or “the creators said they coded that character as gay” way. Characters actually started being lgbt on screen in ways that weren’t demeaning or stereotypes. Major characters, too.

For me, a big moment that gave rise to the hopes of many that their lgbt ships might actually have a shot at being confirmed as canon was, funnily enough, the sequel show to Avatar: TLA, The Legend of Korra.

The above was the closest the couple got to an on-screen intimate moment, and some fans didn’t believe it was romantic until it was later confirmed by the show creators. Nickelodeon was only willing to go so far, after all. The followup comics, however, are much more explicit with the relationship and the two share multiple kisses and intimate moments.

Many fans argue that Korrasami (as the ship between Korra and Asami is called) was too subtle to be considered real representation. But a wave could certainly be felt throughout the world of animation afterword. Shows became even more bold about confirming lgbt characters or at least became less subtle in their coding. 

And suddenly, the idea that a main character’s finale pairing might be anything other than straight became a real possibility and, in some cases, an expectation.

In addition to the growing visibility of lgbt relationships in media, another change was slowly taking place within fandom. 

For much of modern fandom, the most popular ships have been male/male (mlm). Back when I was getting into fan fiction (because I love reminding people that I’m old), this was called “slash.” Slash was exclusively a term for mlm relationships. Same-sex relationships between women (wlw) were labeled “fem-slash,” and were much more rare.

Multiple people have discussed theories for why mlm was, and continues to be in many cases, the most popular type of ship. Some believe it has to do with the prevalence of straight women in fandom who might fetishize mlm relationships. While I have no doubt that’s partly true, I believe the other common argument has a great deal of merit: there were more mlm ships because male characters were more interesting and more prevalent. 

Star Trek: The Original Series had only two main female characters and neither of them was given close to the emotional depth as Spock or Kirk. Lord of the Rings, which was one of the most popular pieces of media on which to write fanfic when I was younger, has so few women the movies had to add in a boat load of new scenes for Arwen.

Recently, though, not only have more shows invested in writing dynamic, interesting female characters, but they have included multiple diverse female characters with relationships with each other and not just the men in the shows. 

So, not only do more people ship wlw ships, but more people expect to actually see those ships represented in their media. Never before has a wlw ship becoming “endgame” seemed more possible.

In many ways this is fantastic. More representation being not only more possible but more expected is absolutely necessary for our media to progress and grow. This has, however, lead to some growing tensions in communities where shipping has, in some ways, become its own form of activism, which means that there is not only people’s personal feelings and preferences for ships on the line, but people who feel that fighting for their ship to become canon is a proxy battle for their own acceptance. 

All three of these wlw ships mean a lot to the people who ship them, and all three have been met with the desire, and occasionally demand, of canon validation as well as a heady mess of coding, accusations of queer baiting, and the lingering question of which, if any, relationships might get the same, and hopefully more explicit, validation that Korrasami had.

Let’s start this deep dive into these relationships as ships with the one that has, in canon, already been resolved.

Yep, that’s definitely a Disney twirl going on there.

One of the first points often made when the validity of a mlm or wlw ship is questioned is that, if you say an m/f couple do the same thing, no one would question that it was romantic. This makes it interesting, and sets off the shipping alarm for anyone who’s a fan of wlw ships when Tangled: The Series goes out of its way to not only give Cass and Rapunzel (ship name: Cassunzel) romantic moments like the above “Disney twirl,” but also directly parallels relationship moments that occurred between Rapunzel and her canon boyfriend/future husband Eugene (AKA Flynn Rider).

Look familiar? It’s almost a shot-for-shot remake of Rapunzel and Eugene meeting for the first time. In this episode, Cassandra accidentally wipes Rapunzel’s memory to the point where Rapunzel thinks she’s still in the tower. It plays out, in part, as “What if Cassandra had found her instead of Eugene?”--something every shipper had doubtless already asked themselves at least once.

Another major moment of paralleling between the two relationships is the endings of both the movie and the series. 

Eugene dies in the end of Tangled only to be resurrected by Rapunzel’s love. Cassandra dies in the series finale of Tangled: The Series, only to be resurrected by Rapunzel’s love. And it is love, that much is very clear.

The only debate really, is whether it’s romantic or platonic love. 

Cassandra and Rapunzel never get official validation in the show or by the executive producers. The most confirmation fans get outside of the text of the show are comments made by some people who work on the show saying that they deliberately coded Cassandra as gay as they could whenever they could.

Yet, for the most part, the creators of this show are largely given a pass by Cassunzel shippers for not making their ship canon. Most understand that, as a Disney property, many hands are tied, particularly given that, due the previous establishment both form the end of Tangled and from the short Tangled Ever After that Rapunzel and Eugene do get married. The reaction seems to largely be that Disney and the show got about as close to confirming it as they could without doing so.

So let’s transition from the show that met, and in some ways, passed expectations to one that has set expectations super high: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power. 

She-Ra is perhaps one of the most lgbtqia coded shows out there right now. The first season even ends with them saving the day with a rainbow.

Here is show-runner and executive producer Noelle Stevenson on queerness in her life and She-Ra:

Yet, despite these deliberate attempts to show representation and to challenge heteronormative ideas, the show has yet to show any of its primary characters or even second tier characters in queer romantic relationships. We have seen a few parents, one pair on in a photo, and their is one married couple of women, but none of these characters are prominently featured on the show.

She-Ra has set expectations incredibly high and has yet to deliver.

Even so, part of what sets She-Ra apart from the other two shows discussed here is that there are multiple queer shipping opportunities. Catra and Adora (ship name Catradora) are one of, if not the, most popular ships, but both Catra and Adora have other female characters with which they could be just as easily shipped.

On the one hand, the pressure is pretty high to establish at least one major queer ship before the end of the show. On the other hand, the pressure is much less that the ship specifically be Catradora.

The near-certainty that there will be one or more wlw ships confirmed before the end of She-Ra means, to me, that Catradora has the greatest chance to become canon.

So, there’s Cassunzel that never really had much of a chance for canon confirmation and Catradora, which has a better chance of becoming canon, but also has less pressure to become THE ship. Where does that leave Lena and Kara?

Anyone who has been in the Supergirl fandom knows that it can feel like a battleground. While all fandoms tend to have their issues, Supergirl’s can be so contentions that it, frankly, makes watching the show less fun. This doesn’t all fall on one groups shoulders, I’ve seen nastiness from many sides over different issues. However, the biggest point of contention tends to center around the potential ship of Lena and Kara (Supercorp). 

Supercorp, as a ship, is completely valid. Kara has way more chemistry with Lena than she has had with any of her male love interests, and two of those guys were played by people whom actress Melissa Benoist was actually in relationships with (though the first was an abusive dirtbag, so lack of chemistry probably makes sense there). Lena once thanked Kara by filling her entire office with flowers. There are cuddles, and Kara’s unwavering (until recently) faith in Lena’s goodness. It’s hard not to ship them.

The issue in the fandom, is not so much that people ship Supercorp (though there are increasingly more people who have issues with the ship itself, which is something I’ll address about all three of these ships in the next post) but the vehemence with which some who ship Supercorp approach whether it will be endgame.

In a way, the frustration is understandable. Supergirl is, in many ways, a show that has made a point of including LGBTQ representation. The second season featured a multiple episode story arc of Supergirl’s adoptive sister Alex Danvers (I will stan her until the end of time) realizing she was a lesbian, coming out, and eventually starting a relationship with another woman. Supergirl also made headlines for featuring the first live-action trans superhero on tv with the introduction of Dreamer in Season 4. The trans actress who plays Dreamer, Nicole Maines, has even had input on how the character is represented including a recent episode that discussed the often ignored violence targeting trans people, particularly trans women of color.

She-Ra and Supergirl have different approaches to representation. She-Ra takes place in a fantasy world and appears to take the approach that nothing about identity or sexuality should be assumed about anyone. There is no heteronormativity in Etheria, yet no major characters are in non-m/f relationships. Supergirl on the other hand, is set in a world more similar to ours which has heteronormativity, homophobia, and transphobia, which leads to the show making episodes and story-arcs specifically about those topics while also somewhat constraining the show. There are arguments to be made about the worth of both approaches and both can serve a purpose for viewers, particularly young viewers, who are searching for characters like them in media.

So, why are the people behind Supergirl so often accused of homophobia?

I mentioned in the Blond Bulldozers section that it is a bit telling that all three shows being discussed here attempt to create diversity while having the whitest, most mainstream character as the lead. There are many who would argue that the true values of the shows are represented by their main characters, and that the rest are window dressing to try to make the show look good as a form of tokenism. The point being that shows won’t really show a commitment to diversity until the main characters are just as diverse as the rest of the cast.

These are all valid arguments. 

A less valid argument is the claim that Supercorp is being deliberately baited by the creators of the show. Queer baiting is a term that seems to have a lot of subjectivity tied up with it. The general idea is that it is when creators purposefully use queer coding or other means to inspire queer shipping of characters as a means to draw in the queer community to their show but then never delivering on that potential.

In some ways, all three of these shows could be accused of queer baiting. The direct parallels in between Cassandra/Rapunzel and Eugene/Rapunzel were no accident. The coding and “anything can happen” while very little does on She-Ra is much the same. And Supergirl is trying to center a large part of the show around the relationship between Kara and Lena, a relationship they know many of the fans see as romantic.

Yet, to me, Supergirl, is actually a less guilty party, at least when it comes to Supercorp. One can, again, argue that the canon LGBT ships and characters exist to pander and draw in those audiences, but Supercorp, I believe, genuinely came out of a place of wanting Kara to have a strong female relationship with someone other than her sister, mother, or boss, and I’m sure this falling-out was in the plans fairly early on.

Has the show completely shut down the idea? No, I don’t think they would be foolish enough to do that. But I don’t believe that it rises to the level of baiting. Shows like Sherlock or movies like Pitch Perfect 3 are, to me, much more egregious examples.

Still, as I said, I can understand the frustration of Supercorp shippers, I just feel like the level of anger directed by some not just at the creatives who make the show but at other fans as well is not fully justified. (And yes, I know “not all Supercorps” and I also know other fans have been jerks. Sanvers shippers who are being asses about Kelly are just as bad.) And who knows? I’d never say never to the ship maybe becoming canon eventually after Kara and Lena work out their issues.

That being said, all three of these ships, regardless of canon status, are incredibly popular, and I want to examine more of what that is and the reason some people are wary of these ships and the potential messages they send. This leads me to our topics for our next installment:

MY WIFE IS A BITCH AND I LIKE HER SO MUCH

and

POISON PARADISE

I will try to make the next one shorter. Also, sorry for typos, I did not give this a thorough read-through. I used all my brain power just writing it.

[nikxation]

This Is the End of Us I Swear

Summary: It’s been a month since the science fair accident, and for both Stan and Ford, moving on has proved harder than either of them would have thought. Decisions are made, words are said, and in the end, both of them just do what they think will make everything right again.

Based on Glendale by Clans and this art  by @julientel.

Tags: 10k, Canon Compliant, Hurt No Comfort, Based on a song, based on fanart, Pre-college, post-science fair, Stangst, might write a second fix-it chapter one day, seriously this is just pain, (more warnings listed in notes before fic on AO3)

Link to AO3

~ ~ ~

The sun is just setting behind the horizon, the sky’s final rays of colored light fading into the black. Small pinpricks of light peak between the clouds, the last of the neon lights on the boardwalk finally flickering out. The streetlights themselves are only a few minutes from waking up and chasing the growing darkness back into the alleyways. The occasional car chugs down the street, the asphalt crunching under its tires. It’s quiet, even in the Pines residence where Ford, having spent the majority of his day packing, just barely manages to shove his favorite advanced calculus book into the last moving box and tape it shut.

Ten boxes are all he was allowed. Sure, he did the math, and he knew they could fit fifteen in the car if they were very careful about how everything was stacked and how full the boxes themselves were. Eighteen if Ma just stayed home instead of insisting on coming to see him off to his new home for, God forbid, the next four years. Eighteen boxes would be plenty space to fit everything he would need plus maybe some non-essentials like changes of clothing. Hell, he could fit a significant number of textbooks in fifteen boxes if he was very careful about maximizing every micrometer of space.

Pa limited him to ten, no arguments. Ma insisted on packing six of them herself, leaving him with only four boxes for his essentials.

A tragedy, to be sure.

The entire day was spent weighing the pros and cons of each combination of textbooks until he reached what he knew was the best option given his limiting circumstance.

It’s still heartbreaking looking at all the texts still lining his shelves and knowing they probably won’t last for long in Pa’s house, probably to be sold or trashed within the week.

He hoists the last box up, grunting at the weight because of course textbooks are heavy, but he never really considers how much fifty pounds is until he’s staggering across the room awkwardly with it in his arms. Fifty pounds isn’t a lot, is it? It always seemed effortless when Stan would bench twice that—

The box thwumps on the carpeted floor at the bedroom door, stacked with the other nine, all ready to be packed into the car come tomorrow morning.

It was strange how vacant the room had felt after the first box had been packed. Not so long ago, every square inch was covered with knick-knacks and pictures and life. But the more he took and packed, the more barren it felt. With every random item he uncovered from days long gone by, the more it felt like setting aside some small part of him to either be forgotten again or left behind. A subtle nostalgia, a longing tinged with an inseparable bitterness he only wishes he could forget or move past.

And now that the packing is finally done… Well…

There’s something to be said for a half empty room.

Well, half of a half, if the empty bottom bunk is anything to go by.

A three-quarters empty room, so to speak.

He stares at the bare mattress on the bottom bunk for a moment, stains and tears on full display since its sheets were ripped away and stored in some remote closet of the house just under a month ago. It’s almost as jarring as the empty room, has been since the day Ma came in empty-handed and left with a bundle of cloth and a wobble to her voice. He usually tries to avoid looking at it for long. It makes something uncomfortable twist in his gut, something that he tells himself is betrayal because he’s afraid if he thinks about it for too long, he’ll realize it’s something else, something he doesn’t think he can handle.

He gives the box of textbooks a soft kick to line it up with the others before turning back and climbing up onto his bunk.

He really ought to stop thinking about the room as only half his.

There are a few graphs and diagrams pinned up on the wall next to his bunk that he thinks he could fit inside his bookbag to take along with him, so he starts the methodical task of unpinning it all. The wall is thoroughly covered in layers, some pins holding up multiple pages, some tables hiding in the back that he’d forgotten about. It’s a stroll through memory lane in the same way that the rest of this day has been.

He pulls out a pin holding up a resistor band diagram, but something behind it slips out behind the bedrail and slides straight to the floor. He huffs, considering leaving it but then immediately deciding that’s a bad idea, since he’s not entirely sure what it is and it might be something important. So he clambers back down from his bunk, fully prepared the shimmy himself under the bed to find whatever it is that fell.

It didn’t go straight to the floor like he thought it did. Instead, it landed on Sta—the bottom bunk. Facedown, probably the size of a four-by-six photograph, a bit worn around the corners.

It’s probably not as important as he initially thought.

The moment he flips the paper is a rude awakening, digging up deeply entrenched memories of hot days on the beach and splinter-covered hands and sun-burnt shoulders and tales of treasure and adventure. It’s a small spark of warmth in his chest, a sun beating down an a pair of boys climbing around the shambles of an old boat, the hot sand between their toes, the reflection of the sun off the crashing waves blinding them, the raucous screams of the seagulls drowned out by their laughter.

He forgot he still had this picture.

It’s strange, the exact memories it brings back. Like him bartering with an old sailor for a rusty anchor while Stan snuck around and grabbed a throw ring. Or Stan crawling inside the hollow boat and coming out with at least three different kinds of bugs caught in his hair. Or Ma finding out about their newest project and insisting on taking a picture of them with it. Stan taking his hand and hoisting him up onto the deck before clambering up to the highest point on the boat and posing like it’s where he belonged. A breeze grabbing the makeshift sail not even seconds after the picture was taken, shaking the boat enough for Stan to lose his balance and fall back into the sand, sputtering with laughter while a worried Ford hopped off the boat and helped him back up.

He smiles at the softness of it all, at the comfort and freedom of happier times. Simpler times. Times before colleges and science fair projects and grandiose expectations and disappointments. Back when their biggest concerns were having enough sunscreen and being home in time for dinner. Before it all fell apart.

He glances from the dilapidated boat in the picture out to the rebuilt one just barely visible in the darkness outside the window, docked down at the pier. It’s only a day’s worth of work away from being ready to sail. Just need to seal off a few small leaks in the hull and patch the tear in the sail. Leaps and bounds further along than the remains of the boat in the picture. A decade of afterschool work culminating in an empty, almost-finished boat bobbing on the waves.

He hasn’t set foot on the pier since the incident.

It’s all so different now.

He hates that he almost misses him.

He tells himself it’s just the adjustment period. Eighteen years of falling asleep to someone else’s snoring only to be replaced with sudden, deafening silence. Eighteen years of four people sitting at the dinner table now becoming three, the other side of the table empty and left unset. Eighteen years of someone at your side leaving a gaping hole in their place when they’re gone.

It has to be an adjustment period.

Because how could he miss the person that betrayed him?

That stabbed him in the back and ruined his future, all in the name of treasure-hunting?

He couldn’t.

He can’t.

Pa keeps telling him that he’s going places, that he’s got a bright future ahead of him, that his brother was just dragging him down. He tells him that he wishes he’d kicked him out sooner, then all of this would have been avoided.

Couldn’t just screw up his own life. Had to go and screw up yours too.

Pa tells him to forget and move on. To go back to his room and keep studying.

And he tries. He really does, because that has to be the right thing to do. That has to be the best way forward.

He should hate him.

And part of him does.

Part of him recoils at the mention of his name, some seed of anger burning red-hot when the fond memories give way to thoughts of broken science fairs projects and shattered trust. It coils and churns in his stomach, fueled by the acceptance letter to Backupsmore and his father’s disappointed scowl when that’s the only acceptance letter that arrives and the random items still hiding around the room that don’t belong to him and the name mix-up at graduation and the folder of maps and guides still on the bookshelf of that damn boat…

Part of him is angry. Rightfully so.

And yet…

The photo creases slightly in his hand.

His insides burn, and he tells himself it’s anger because the other thing, the thing that he pretends doesn’t exist, remembers how desperate and alone Stan looked that night out on the sidewalk with a bag on his shoulder and his hand raised up towards the window. It remembers and it remembers and it remembers. And it burns.

It has to be anger, because at least that makes sense, and at least that doesn’t keep him up at night staring at the ceiling and hating how quiet the room is.

It’s what he tells himself.

But even then, he still hates that hot coal of resentment in his chest, a heavy weight still dragging him further and further down. He hates feeling this way. He hates how, no matter how hard he tries, he can’t seem to forget and move on. Hates it with every fiber of his being.

It’s in the past so why won’t it just stay there?

The pier lights finally kick on, bathing the dock and the Stan O War in flickering fluorescent white. It’s a shadow looming on the waves, still docked peacefully as if nothing ever happened, as if the whole world wasn’t just flipped on its axis. As if everything was still alright.

Simpler times.

Distantly, he wonders if that boat was ever really his dream, or if he was just happy to be living it with Stan. He knows there was one point when he did want it, can remember it the same way he remembers the sand between his fingers and the taste of the sea air. But then they told him he was smart and that he had a future and that he could go to college and that he could change the world.

Somewhere along the line, his priorities changed. And Stan refused to see it, to accept it.

It’s been almost a month, and that boat is still just sitting there, a reminder of everything that went wrong, of how empty everything suddenly feels, of the remnants of a future left for him, and he hates it, hates Stan. He has to, right?

He has to.

The weight sinks lower in his chest and burns and burns and burns.

He’s angry. He has to be.

And it’s Stan’s fault.

Him and that stupid b—

Something… clicks in his head. Like a moment of clarity, suddenly telling him exactly what he needs to do, that it’ll make everything better. Make everything even.

He doesn’t think about it too hard.

He just shoves the picture in his pocket and leaves the room, making a quick stop by the kitchen on his way out the front door.

~ ~ ~

The treasure-hunting business has been… lackluster, to say the least. Apparently, gold is some kind of “rare metal”, which really throws a wrench into his whole get-rich-quick scheme.

Stan’s been driving since sunset, the window rolled down so he can taste that familiar salty ocean breeze as he makes his way down the coast, the wind pulling at his hair and roaring in his ear as he sails down the highway. The north end of the state had been a complete bust. With the help of his totally-legally-acquired, not-at-all-stolen metal detector, he’d only managed to scrounge up a couple dollars’ worth of coins, a few cheap wedding rings that he pawned, and a surprising number of fake teeth. All in all, he barely had enough money to feed himself and keep gas in the Stanleymobile, and even that was pushing it at times. So now he’s heading south to try out the bottom half of the state.

Not that he’s hesitant to leave New Jersey altogether or anything.

As if staying in the state will make his circumstances seem a little less real, a little less permanent.

The sign welcoming him to Glass Shard Beach whizzes by, momentarily caught in his headlights before disappearing into the encroaching darkness behind him.

It’s been a month, and he still has a hard time believing everything that happened actually… happened. There’s this part of it that still feels unreal, like it happened years ago or just to someone else altogether. It feels like he’s driving home instead of through what used to be his home. Like he should be pulling up to the pawn shop and heading upstairs, giving the cat a pet while Ma shoots him a devilish smirk as she works the person on the phoneline, Pa silently reading the newspaper in his chair, the floorboards creaking in a familiar pattern as he heads up to their bedroom, Ford reading some textbook on his bunk, laughing at whatever ridiculous story Stan has to share from boxing practice before they head down to the beach to work away the last of the sunlight fixing up the Stan O War.

When he finds himself on an all-too-familiar road by the boardwalk, it’s almost second nature to slow down as the Pines Pawn sign rolls into view. He knows he should just drive past without a second glance, because screw them all. But at the same time, he’s almost… curious? And maybe that home-sick part of him is saying just one peek wouldn’t hurt anything, and then he’d be on his way again, off to make his fortune, make them rue the day or whatever.

He ignores the hunger pains in his gut as he slows the car to a crawl on his way past, peering out the passenger window cautiously, ready to nail the gas and book it out of there if he’s spotted.

Ma is sitting in the upstairs window like always, phone up to her ear while she twirls the cord and the sucker on the other end of the line around her little finger. Pa is downstairs cashing out the pawn shop, counting down the money in the drawer for probably the third time of the night. Everything looks… normal. Peaceful. Not a thing out of place or out of the ordinary.

His chest aches when he realizes almost nothing seems to have changed since he left.

He isn’t entirely sure he expected anything different, but seeing it in-person still hurts more than it has any right to.

Their His The bedroom light is on, but the room is empty. From this angle he can barely make out the mostly bare walls and bunks, leaving him wondering if Ford already left for college.

Or wherever he ends up going, since Stan really screwed that one up for him, didn’t he?

There’s a chance he’s still in town.

His stomach churns at the thought of seeing his twin again. As hurt as he is by everything, as much as the memory of Ford closing those curtains stings, he still misses him. He misses that feeling of always having someone at his side, through thick and thin. He misses feeling wanted.

Though, if Pa’s words are anything to go by, then maybe he was wrong about that feeling from the start.

He takes it all in for one last second, telling himself that this is it, he’s not coming back, this is the last time. He keeps telling himself that for another second. And then another. And another.

It’s not until Pa pauses from counting the money that he finally startles back into gear and pulls off before the old man looks out the window, barreling down the street way over the speed limit because, suddenly, it’s the very last place he wants to be.

How bad would it look if Pa saw him sitting out here?

He’d look stupid. He’d look like even more of a failure, as if he was too scared to leave, as if he just came crawling back like a dog with its tail between its legs in defeat. He’d be admitting they’re right about him. He’d be giving up.

Would they even let him come back?

He shakes the thought off.

It’s been a month, and he’s not done yet. He’s on his way to success yet, he can feel it. Pretty soon, he’ll be rolling in all the cash Pa could ever hope for, and then he can rub it in their faces, make them regret ever kicking him out and abandoning him.

He’ll show them.

His stomach growls again, dragging him back to reality for the moment. He only has a dollar and some spare change in his wallet, which won’t buy him very much food-wise. And the owners of the local convenience store have known him for as long as he can remember and know to watch out for his “tendencies”.

He’s going to need supplies.

It’s almost completely dark now, the moon barely a sliver in the sky, the saltwater spray from the ocean coming off the boardwalk as he coasts alongside it. Out on the water, a barge stands barely lit, far out on the waves, a pinprick of light on an otherwise dark and desolate sea.

It gives him an idea.

~ ~ ~

Ford still remembers the day they first pulled the Stan O War out of that cave, the memory a spotlight in the fog of distant and long-forgotten days.

They’d spent a good hour trying to scrounge up enough rope to haul it out, one of them always stationed right outside the cave to make sure no one went in and claimed their find. And when they finally got the rope, it took them another hour to figure out the best way to tie it up and pull, breaking off a few more chunks of the decrepit boat than either of them would care to admit. But once they got it moving, it was, well, smooth sailing from there. There was a bucket of paint, he doesn’t remember where they got it, but he remembers the debate they had before finally settling on the name and painting it on the side. He remembers the terrible sun burns they both had that night, and how Ma had to cover them in almost half a bottle of aloe. It didn’t even come close to stopping them from going out again the next night. And the night after that.

The first year or so, it had been their own personal playground. They’d play pirates or adventurers, taking turns coming up with monsters to fight or treasures to find (or, in Stan’s case, hot mermaids to win over). The little half-boat had been their home away from home, a safe haven for them and only them.

Then they actually started rebuilding it.

Suddenly, what had been a call to adventure was now becoming a reality. The dream to go out and explore the unexplored and find the unfindable was finally looking like it was coming true. All with his twin at his side.

Building that boat gave him some of his favorite memories.

And then things changed.

Dreams changed.

And now he’s sitting on the deck alone, the soft splashing of waves and the gentle knocking of the hull against the dock the only sounds outside his own thoughts swirling in his head.

He was resolute when he first left the house, sure of what he had to do. But the walk here gave the doubt time to settle in, made the weight in his pocket seem impossibly heavier.

It doesn’t make any sense.

It should be easy, but…

He remembers when they sanded the deck, how they had to choose between the electric sander or the water-proofing epoxy because Stan’s part-time job at the gym couldn’t cover both. The subsequent weeks were spent sanding the entire boat by hand with the little hand radio buzzing in the background. He gently runs his hand across the glossy wood, remembering the splinters and cuts they both got every day. They’d always been so sure it would be worth it.

Was it?

Ford had considered building something to make the process easier, their own homemade electric sanders. But Stan had talked him out of it. Said it would come out so much nicer if they did it themselves, that it can’t take that much longer to do it by hand, right?

Stan always liked doing things the hard way.

Well, that’s not true. He found shortcuts wherever he could, cut every corner possible to get to where he needed to go. That’s why he always managed to almost make it through school with straight Cs.

But things that he cared about, things that meant something to him, he always took his time on, took the extra minute to be careful with.

Too bad he didn’t care too much about your future, then.

His nails scrape against the deck, his shoulders drawing together around him.

He still can’t for the life of him figure out why Stan did it, what drove him to sabotage his entire future. It couldn’t have been an accident. Stan would have warned him. He would have come clean before the science fair. It had to be on purpose.

Right?

It had to be on purpose.

Because Stan has to care about his treasure-hunting and his own dreams more than he cares about his brother’s.

Because if he’s wrong, then…

Then Stan…

That stone in his chest sinks a little deeper, burns a little hotter.

He shoves himself to his feet, steadying himself against the railing as the boat sways slightly underfoot.

He has to be right.

Because he’s not sure if he can live with being wrong.

And no matter how much his chest hurts, he guesses the result was the same no matter if he meant it or not. Because either way, he’s going to some worthless school where he’s going to have to work ten times harder just to get anywhere in the world.

And Stan…

Stan was going to leave home anyways. Stan had no plans on staying anywhere near Glass Shard Beach and is probably already hundreds of miles away doing absolutely fine. This was just a hiccup for him. Ruining Ford’s life was nothing more than a speedbump. He got kicked out, but he was probably a month away from leaving anyways.

Ford had his dream stolen from him.

And Stan—

Carefully, he climbs up onto the railing of the boat and steps back onto the dock, digging his hand down into his pocket.

This boat is Stan’s dream. Not his.

He pulls out the matchbook he grabbed from the kitchen, fingers fumbling at he pulls out a single match.

An eye for an eye, right?

He strikes it, the matchstick catching with a hot spark. The single flame is warm in his fingers, dancing side to side in the light ocean breeze, the cheap wood already burning down, blackening and curling in on itself in the heat.

He ruined you.

He deserves this.

Before he can second-guess himself again, he tosses the match onto the deck.

~ ~ ~

Stan’s thinking about those food rations they stored in the hull of the boat, trying to map out how many days he can make them last if he’s careful.

He smells the smoke moments before he pulls into the parking lot at the top of the boardwalk.

Barely gets the car turned off before he sees the flames and starts running.

The boat is already halfway gone, the fire spreading across the entire deck and making its way up the mast, panic settling into his bones as he books it towards the pier.

There’s a shadow of a person standing in front of it, and all he can manage is to scream something, he can’t even remember what, and the person startles and then runs. By the time Stan makes it down to the pier, the person is already halfway down the beach, and there’s no chance at catching them, so he turns his attention to the boat.

I can save it.

I can fix this.

There are sirens in the distance. He can barely hear them over the crackle and roar of the flames. There’s a bucket on the deck of the only other boat docked, so he grabs it. Gets to work.

There’s so much of that span of time that’s a blur, a sequence of repeated motions all a backdrop to his frantic thoughts.

Lay on the dock to reach the water.

I can do this. I can do this.

Scoop as much as you can into the bucket.

How could this happen? Did that person standing here have anything to do with it?

Stand up.

What if I can’t save it?

Pour it on the flames.

He’ll never forgive me.

Repeat.

Never.

Everything’s a rush. The fire spreads across the entire deck, no matter his efforts. No matter how much water he heaves onto it, it just keeps growing, spreading, the smoke burning his lungs the way cigarettes never could, stinging his eyes, heat radiating through the air around him.

He keeps working.

I have to save it.

I need to save it.

If I save it, maybe he’ll forgive me.

The wood creaks and snaps over the sound of the flames, charred and crumbling. But he keeps working.

If I can’t, he’ll never forgive me.

Useless. Worthless. Mistake.

It’ll be the end of us.

Bucketful after bucketful, flames creeping to the top of the mast, the sails turning to ash, everything crumbling and burning right before his eyes and there’s nothing he can do to stop it but keep working.

He’s getting another scoop of water, and the bucket slips from his fingers, getting pulled down beneath the surface faster than he can react. It disappears into the black waters, pulling a curse from him.

I can still do this.

He’ll start scooping with his hands, if that’s what it takes.

But then someone grabs him, and it’s the first time he realizes how close the sirens are. They pull him away from the flames. Instinct kicks in. He’s kicking and screaming to let him go, he needs to do this, he can’t let it burn down, he can’t let it disappear, it’s all he has left, let him go—

A group of people run by in the flickering darkness as the other person keeps dragging him back, and something in his brain finally connects the sirens to the people around him, some of the panic settling into relief when he sees the long water hose the ones running down the pier are carrying.

Because there’s this inkling of hope that it’s not all lost. That it’ll be salvageable.

And then they’re blasting water at it, and his blood runs cold.

It’s almost an instant reaction, the twist in his gut at the sound of cracking wood as the mast bends to the side under the force of the water, then snaps completely and splashes into the waves.

And then he’s screaming at them, begging them to stop because can’t they see they’re making it worse? They’re destroying it. They need to stop. He needs to make them stop.

He’s flailing against the arms holding him back, throwing blind punches even though nothing’s connecting, and his insides feel more and more hollow the more steam they fill the air with and the more the boat creaks and groans.

Something finally connects, and the arms let him go, and then he’s running again, every pound of his feet on the dock lost in the hiss of the water battling the flames, battering the boat.

He hasn’t made it far when a resounding crack splinters through the air, freezing his feet in place.

Through the swirling mist, he sees the entire boat list forward, quickly taking on water. His feet are rooted in place as, within a span of seconds, the entire front half of the boat is submerged. And the back snaps in half. Falls into the waves behind it.

He doesn’t feel his knees hit the wood dock.

What’s left of the Stan O War sinks beneath the waves, a few broken boards the only things marring the surface of the otherwise now undisturbed sea.

And just like that, it’s gone.

It’s just… it’s just gone.

And he doesn’t even have the barest hope that there’s any way to bring it back.

Hands grab him again and pull him back up, but it’s all numb, the voices around him hollow and muffled, a million miles gone. He can’t look away, gaze locked on splintered wood and ash, eyes burning from the smoke and the saltwater that might be seawater, might not.

It doesn’t feel real.

It can’t be real.

Because if it is…

His throat catches, seawater rolling off his cheeks in rivulets, leaving trails in the ash and soot covering his face.

Because if it is, then I really did ruin his life, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.

Something inside him breaks at that, crumbles, the hands on his shoulders finally turning him away from the wreckage.

His insides collapse into themselves, and it’s all he can do to stop the rest of himself from following suit, to keep himself walking away from the very last semblance of hope he had to fix everything.

This is the end of us.

~ ~ ~

Ford’s running as fast as he can, his lungs heaving with every step, sand and glass shards kicking out behind him, the roar of the flames dying out the further and further he gets. It isn’t until they fade into the sounds of the waves lapping against the shore that his legs finally give out and send him to his hands and knees under the weight of what he just did.

He’d stood there watching as the fire caught, watching as the epoxy coat on the deck bubbled and charred until the wood underneath finally started to burn. He watched, waiting for that feeling of relief as the fire spread, the air getting warmer and warmer, the smoke slowly getting thicker and thicker. He thought he’d feel better about it, thought it’d cut the final string tying him and his brother together and finally let him be free of him. But instead, the fire inside him just fizzled out as the flames crept higher and higher. And he kept waiting and waiting, hoping for something new and better and good to take its place inside him, to feel the vindication he’d sorely been hoping for when he finally tossed the match on-board.

Nothing came.

There was only a distant voice, yelling at him to put the goddamn fire out what are you doing? And that had sent him running, because common sense reminded him that arson is a crime, and something about the voice clawed at his insides so deeply that he was afraid to realize why. So, he ran. And he ran and ran and ran, hoping in vain that at some point the weight pushing him further and further into the ground would lift, would let him breathe. That maybe some of the fire would come back, or something, anything but this emptiness, this detachment.

The first law of thermodynamics states that energy is neither created nor destroyed, only transferred.

He wonders if that’s why that fire inside him died the higher the flames got on the boat, leaving nothing but ashes behind. Or, he wonders, if this is one thing that science can’t solve.

He doesn’t have an answer for any of it.

He’s on his hands and knees, the fire flickering in the distance, all his anger spent and gone and leaving him numb and cold and feeling something heavier than gravity pulling him towards the center of the earth.

His arms tremble under it, tears stinging his eyes.

How did Stan do it?

There are sirens in the distance, his chest shuddering with every breath of briny air.

He wants to feel satisfied with what he did, but instead it just feels like he scraped out his insides, tearing himself to ribbons and swearing he was doing it to someone else, like he’s ripping open the same poorly healed scars over and over again, hoping he’ll finally heal whole for once. Telling himself that it didn’t matter that it was also years of his own life spent working on that boat, that it still meant something to him. What mattered was that it meant something to Stan. He shouldn’t feel a damn thing.

But Stan’s not here to feel anything; it’s just him.

Just him.

Alone.

How was Stan able to do it so easily?

Every moment, the guilt tears at him more and more, and he swears it can’t get any worse, it just can’t. But then he remembers exactly why he lit that match, and it makes something vile turn over in his stomach because how could he do that to his own brother? How could he ever do that to someone he’s supposed to care about? And then every moment feels like a new low, some fundamental boundary shredded by a blinding moment of anger. An utter betrayal that cuts him to the core when he realizes its consequence, some combination of shame and remorse gripping his throat and squeezing when he remembers how he wanted Stan to feel.

The light behind him dies off, the last flames flickering in the distance, dancing off the glass shards scattered in the sand around him before disappearing into the darkness.

How was Stan able to completely ruin him and not feel a damn thing?

None of it makes sense. A voice that sounds eerily like Pa tells him it’s because Stan is useless, a con, some punk that only cares about himself and doesn’t give a shit about any of them. But that doesn’t settle right in him, doesn’t feel like the boy that yelled at the bullies that threw rocks at them and blew off a date to drive him to a science convention out of town and came into their room after an argument with their Pa with a swollen eye and pretended it was nothing. It doesn’t sound right, but neither does that same person ruining his one chance at a future and then playing it off as no big deal.

It doesn’t make sense.

It doesn’t make sense that Stan would do this to him. It doesn’t make sense that burning the boat down hurts so badly. That he suddenly feels more alone than he ever has, crouched on that beach and surrounded by a black sea and an empty boardwalk and knowing that has nothing to do with the hollow feeling inside his chest, aching like it’s lost some vital piece of itself.

It doesn’t feel fair.

This was supposed to help.

Instead, all he’s left with are tarnished memories and an amalgamation of confusing emotions that all just boils down to pain, pure and simple.

He shouldn’t have done it.

Hell, he regrets coming out here at all.

It feels like hours before the wailing sirens finally go quiet, and he shakily pushes himself to his feet, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand as he begins the long walk home, the pack of matches left behind lying in the sand.

~ ~ ~

There are little things that Stan never really thought to miss after he left. Little, every-day moments that aren’t necessarily significant, but still fall somewhere in the realm of normalcy and routine and fill some little gap in his life. Gaps that are small enough to not notice once they’re empty.

The flipping of book pages late at night. The small bit of light filtering in the window from the streetlights outside. The way the boxing mat moves and yields underfoot. The shift of his gloves when he throws a punch because they’ve always been slightly too big. The feel of sanded wood dust between his fingers. Hauling the toolbox out to the Stan O War every day to work. The smell of the shop the day after Pa gets the floors waxed. The tinkle of the bell on the door when someone walks in.

That last one ushers in the thought of the rest.

Hearing that bell when he cautiously walks into the pawn shop the next morning, it makes him wonder about all the other little things he’s forgotten to remember, forgotten to miss.

“What part of ‘you’re not welcome here’ did you not understand?”

Or just simply forgotten on purpose.

“Nice to see you too, Pops,” he says, aimlessly glancing around the shop, feigning interest in the various wares (most of which were here when he got kicked out left). Mostly, it’s just an attempt to avoid looking at the man standing behind the counter.

“If you think you can just come crawling back here after—”

“I’m not,” Stan says, his voice hard. “Just had to come and make sure Ford’s okay before I head back out of town.”

“Course he’s okay,” Filbrick says. Stan can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief that Ford wasn’t somehow tangled up in the fire. That he’s alright. That he maybe doesn’t know about it yet. “No thanks to you.” Stan bristles.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

Do they know he was there? Do they know he couldn’t stop it?

“It means he barely managed to get a scholarship to some run-down nothing school thanks to what you—"

“I’m not talking about the science fair! I’m talking about—”

The backdoor of the shop, the one that leads up to the apartment, opens. The tell-tale creak rings another bell in the back of his head, some other forgotten detail of his life that he’s not entirely sure what to do with. He turns at the sound and immediately locks eyes with a distorted reflection of himself.

“What do you want?” Ford’s knuckles white where they grip a backpack slung over his shoulder, but he seems almost confused, his brow ever so slightly furrowed. The door clicks closed behind him, seeming impossibly loud in the now-silent room.

“Hey, um.” The look throws him off, considering he was expecting hate or anger or even an immediate dismissal. Then again, maybe confusion makes sense too. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Why wouldn’t I be okay now that you’re gone?

He doesn’t think that’s what he meant, but it doesn’t make the comment sting any less.

“There was a fire,” he says slowly, “down at the pier.”

It’s almost imperceptible, the way Ford’s eyes widen ever so slightly at that. Stan knows he’s the only one that would ever notice it, even if it’s not entirely the response he would expect.

He’s not sure what he would expect at this point.

“Pa, there are still a few boxes upstairs,” Ford says, watching Stan for another second before turning to the man still behind the counter. “They’re a bit too heavy for me. Would you mind bringing them down? I’ll watch the shop.”

Pa doesn’t have to have his glasses off for Stan to know the exact looks he’s giving them: a judgmental squint, probably aimed more at him than Ford, a quite calculation running through his head before he grunts out that he’ll be back in five minutes. He gives Ford a semi-awkward pat on the shoulder before heading upstairs, the door clicking shut behind him.

Ford faces back towards him the moment the door closes, his arms crossed in front of his chest, hands tucked in his elbows. His eyes are glancing around, refusing to meet his own.

“You, uh, going somewhere?” Stan asks, not entirely sure how to break the silence that settled back over them.

“Why are you here, Stan?” Ford’s still not looking at him, his voice tighter than it was just a minute ago, yet somehow impossibly exhausted, detached.

“I just… I was driving through and happened to go by the pier last night. The Stan O War was on fire.” He watches for a reaction, waiting to see if Ford knew, if he cared. But there’s nothing. No waver in his expression, not even some acknowledgement of what he said. Just his eyes still looking anywhere else in the room. “Just wanted to see if you were nearby, make sure you weren’t hurt or—”

“I’m fine.”

“Do you know what hap—”

“No.”

“And you weren’t anywhere near—”

“I’m fine.”

The silence settles again, the air tense and uncomfortable between them. There’s an enormous elephant in the room. More like a couple, if he’s being completely honest. Neither of them seem willing to address them. It only makes the atmosphere seem that much heavier.

“It’s been a while, huh?” Stan says, not able to stand the quiet any longer. “Over a month by now, right?”

“Twenty-seven days.” He states it plainly, like one of those facts from a textbook. Cold and detached and simple.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure. That sounds about right.”

Ford’s eyes seem to have settled, his gaze locked on something behind him, just to the side of his head. Enough to see him without having to look at him.

He won’t even look—

“Basically an eternity for us, huh?” Stan says, an awkward laugh forcing its way out. “Don’t think we ever went more than an hour without seeing each other before and now—”

“Was there something else you wanted to say to me, or was that it?”

“I…” It takes him aback, the iciness in Ford’s tone, the way his arms pull closer to his chest just the slightest bit. “What?”

“You came here to check on me?” Ford asks, his voice so flat it barely registers as a question. “That’s it?”

“I mean, yeah I guess?” Ford’s still not looking at him, and it just sinks something deep into his chest, leaving him floundering to say the right thing. “I was worried, you know?” It doesn’t feel like enough. Must hate me for not saving it. “But I tried to save the boat and everything. By the time I got there, there wasn’t much I could do.” He sees it, Ford’s arms tensing as he clenches his fists, his teeth grinding down. He’s saying the wrong things and he knows it, so he switches gears. “Look, I mean, I get if you’re mad at me for not stopping it. But the hull still seemed partly intact. I can, like, stay in town a while and help you fix her if you want. Not that you probably don’t hate me now, but I’ll stay out of your way and—"

“Get out.”

That ache in his chest drops like a weight, and suddenly he’s drowning.

“W-what?”

“I have nothing left to say to you, Stanley.” His fists fall to his sides, shoulders squaring back, his eyes still locked behind him. “So get out, and don’t make me say it again.”

It’s a slap in the face, one that stings all the way down to his core. He knows this is going badly. Doesn’t take a genius to see that.

Isn’t this what you expected when you walked in that door?

But he can’t let it end. Not like this. Shouldn’t it matter that it was an accident and he did everything he could? Shouldn’t it matter that he didn’t mean to hurt him?

“I came here to try to fix things,” Stan says, but Ford just blinks at the wall behind him, swallows.

“I don’t want you to.”

There are a million questions buzzing through his head, “when”s and “why”s and “how”s colliding and fracturing all while he sinks further and further down. He tries to grip back onto that anger from the first night, the night they threw him out onto the concrete with next to nothing and he swore the world would never see him coming. He tries to grab onto that righteous fury again, but it just slips through his fingers, lost in the backache from sleeping in his car and the suffocating silence and the stomach pains from so many days with barely enough money for food. Instead he just finds himself longing for everything that was, for the smell of Ma’s cooking and Pa’s annoyed grunts when they came in late at night and the jingle of the pawn shop bell and most of all—

“Please Ford,” Stan says. “I miss us. I can’t let everything get thrown away just over some stupid mistake! Just let me try to fix this.”

“A ‘stupid mistake’?” Ford scoffs, lowering his head with a shake. “Your ‘stupid mistake’ ruined everything. You ruined my life, Stan. There’s nothing left to fix.”

“But it was all an accident!” he says. “I didn’t mean to bump the table, and the boat was on fire when I got there. And I know, I know there’s nothing I can do about your college, so at least let me try to fix the Stan O War for you, and then maybe—”

“Would you shut up about the stupid boat already!” It’s practically a shout, the first time he’s raised his voice like that at him, his fists visibly shaking and his eyes locked on his shoes. Stan takes a small step back.

“W-what did I do wrong?”

“What did you do wr— are you kidding me?” And for the first time, Ford meets his eyes. Stan expects to see seething anger there, bubbling fury that shakes his entire frame as it threatens to boil over. He expects flames. But instead, he’s met with a detached coldness, solid ice that pierces down to the bone. “All you ever cared about was that stupid boat and your stupid treasure hunting! Did you ever stop to think about what I wanted? No, you didn’t.”

“I thought we wanted the same thi—”

“I let you drag me into your dumb, idiotic dreams that are never going anywhere. But not anymore. I’m done, Stan. I’m not letting you—you— hang on my coattails anymore. I’ve got a future ahead of me and I’m through with letting you keep me from it. There’s nothing left to fix because there is no more ‘us’. Get it? So just leave already.”

Every word stings, cutting deeper and deeper until Ford finally seems to take a breath, and Stan’s left feeling like the entire weight of the ocean is crushing into his chest.

Is that really how he felt?

He thought the boat, all of it, was their dream. He thought it was the future they both wanted the moment it was possible. That’s what Ford had said up until the science fair. Was he wrong? Did he really make Ford this miserable? Did he really hate him from the beginning? Were they really—

“I didn’t—”

“And you know what?” Ford says, voice shaking, bordering on hysterical. “I’m glad you couldn’t put out the fire, because I was the one who started it in the first place!” Stan swears he feels his heart stop in his chest, something in the back of his throat seizing. “So at least this once you didn’t screw up something for me.”

“Y-you burned—?”

“And it was the best decision I ever made,” he says. “Dumb adventures, treasure hunting, that boat, you. I’ve moved on. It’s all behind me now. I have a future ahead of me. So just leave me alone and, for once in your goddamn life, get out of my way.”

It’s all your fault. All your fault.

He’ll never forgive you.

Never.

This is the end—

“Stanford, I’m sor—”

“Get out.”

“Sixer please—”

“I said get out!”

The shout dies as fast as it escapes Ford’s lips, but it leaves Stan’s ears ringing. He’s stuck in place, the world revolving around him and Ford glaring holes through his skull and everything feeling all too real and not quite real enough as that ache in his chest claws at his insides, tears him apart.

It’s too quiet.

It’s too quiet, but his head is buzzing, and there’s no way this is real, but it is. It’s more real than the day he got kicked out.

It’s too quiet, and his insides are screaming that this is wrong, this is his nightmares come to life, that it can’t of all fallen apart that easily, that it can’t be over, that this can’t be the end.

But it is.

And it hits him with a sudden, startling clarity.

All the derision and hate from his father, he never saw it in Ford. But maybe it’s always been there, and he was just fooling himself by thinking otherwise. Telling himself that if no one else wants him, then his twin, the brother he’s quite literally spent his entire life with, would have to care about him. That he must be willing to go to the ends of the Earth at his side, together against the world, forever and ever.

He never realized “forever” only lasted until the end of high school. That maybe he was more alone than he ever thought.

The shock subsides, but it leaves something bitter in the back of his throat, the rock lodged in his chest twisting like a knife, the very last shred of hope he had of fixing things between them withering and dying.

He takes a step back and grits his teeth through it.

Because none of this changes the fact that he’s still going to make his millions. That he’s still going to rub it in their faces. That he’s going to make them regret ever kicking him out and doubting him and thinking he’s nothing but a waste of space, a walking mistake.

He tells himself for the hundredth time that he doesn’t need them.

That he’ll be fine on his own.

Because if that’s how he really feels, then—

“Fine,” Stan says, straightening his back and swallowing down the pain scraping its way up his throat. “If that’s what you want, fine. I’ll never bother you again.” And he turns on his heel, the bell jiggling as he yanks the door open, sunlight and ocean air barreling in. “Have a nice life, Stanford.”

And he walks.

~ ~ ~

Stan’s not sure how he made it to the car, let alone how he already made it this far down the highway. It’s all a blur, thoughts and memories lost to the tears already streaming down his face. He wipes at them with his arm, but more and more come to replace them, dripping down his cheeks, his chin, onto his shirt. He feels hollow, like someone scooped out his guts and left him to rot, but the tears just keep coming and coming, the knot in his throat slowly getting tighter and tighter.

All it takes is a sign whizzing by outside.

Leaving Glass Shard Beach.

Thanks for visiting!

It’s like a dam breaking, the agony and the hurt and the betrayal and the anger all coming up in a rush that he tries so hard to choke back down, to bury like he’s always done, like he was always taught to do. But it’s like holding back a hurricane inside his chest, and there’s nothing he can do to stop the sobs that force their way through and catch in his throat, tears falling heavier than raindrops and threatening to drown him.

It’s really over.

It’s really the end.

He bites down on his lip to try to keep it in, but more just keeps bubbling up.

He knows he shouldn’t be crying like this. Not here, not now. Hell, not ever. He’s the strong one.

One of what?

It’s not supposed to hurt this much, to feel like such an utter rejection, to be impossibly worse than the first time a month twenty-seven days so long ago. He’s supposed to be tougher than this. He’s supposed to take any punch, any pain the world throws at him, and grin back with bloody teeth and not a care in the world. This shouldn’t—

And then he’s angry, angry that Ford would do this to him, would treat him like garbage after everything they’ve gone through. He’s angry that his brother tossed him to the side the moment he got a better offer. He’s angry that one mistake cost him everything he ever knew, and Ford just closed the damn curtains. He’s angry that Ford decided to burn down the boat, their his dream, everything inside of it that he could have used or sold to keep himself alive. He’s so angry at Ford, at his dad, at that dumb school, at all of it.

Somehow, he’s the angriest at himself for going back and hoping things would be different.

He’s angry that he was dumb enough to think he still had a brother.

“Stupid,” he says between strangled sobs, his throat constricting around the word.

He’s angry that he’s still crying over something he can’t change.

He’s angry that, even after everything that happened, he still feels guilty for hitting that table.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” Every word is punctuated with his hand smacking the steering wheel, each one harder than the last. As if it’ll get the anger out. As if it’ll make him feel more in-control again. As if it will make it all hurt just a little less if his hand stings a little more.

“Stupid Ford.” Smack. “With his stupid school.” Smack. “And his stupid project.”

His palm is tingling.

It’s nothing in comparison.

Did he ever care about any of it in the first place?

Was all of it a lie?

That angers boils, a tight pressure behind his ribcage that still feels suspiciously like devastation, like heartbreak, but he tells himself its anger because then at least hitting something should make it go away.

So he wails on the steering wheel, cursing every god under the sun and everything and everyone that ever wronged him. And it feels good at first, giving the hurt somewhere else to go for the time being. Venting the frustration and the pain and the wrongness of it all. So he curses and he screams and he punches that damn steering wheel until his hands feel raw, and he’s yelling at Ford for starting that damn fire and Ford for hating him all this time and Ford for pretending he wanted a brother and himself for believing it and himself for wanting it and himself for hoping and dreaming and thinking he was finally going to get to be happy when of course that’s horse-shit because why would anything ever turn out alright for him and Ford for still getting everything he ever wanted and himself for still feeling proud at that and Ford for thriving while he’s barely surviving and— and—

He’s better off without you.

His throat hurts, and he’s still choking back sobs through it all, tears soaking his cheeks. His hand connects with the steering wheel one more time, but it’s almost hesitant, tired. He can feel himself crumpling inwards, everything caving in, as if now that everything he ever had is gone, there’s nothing left holding the last pieces of him together, the last bit of anger draining out and leaving him nothing in its wake.

He’d be better off if you—

A car horn wails, but he knows it wasn’t him, and he blinks up through blurry eyes to see another car heading right towards him.

It must be some kind of instinct that has him yanking the wheel to the side. The car jerking back across the median. Off the side of the road. Everything jolting as he slams the brake on the shoulder. The tires squealing before everything finally stops.

There’s a long moment, as the blare of the other car’s horn fades into the distance, tears still streaming freely, when all he can do is sit there. He doesn’t know how his brain can simultaneously feel like it’s full of cotton and full of bees, his heart slamming in his chest.

His hands are trembling as he fumbles the car into park.

And then the moment breaks like shattered glass.

“Shit,” he breathes, his voice wobbling, still wet with the tears dropping from his chin. His hands find the steering wheel, squeezing the fake leather until his knuckles turn white so that they’ll just stop shaking. “Shit, shit, shit.”

He tells himself he’s angry. He tells himself, because the other thing is more than he can handle right now. More than he think he’ll ever be able to handle.

Should have just driven by when you had the chance.

Maybe he’d hoped he could fix things. Maybe he’d hoped Ford would forgive him. Maybe he figured there was no way he could make things worse anyways.

Maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe

Maybe he was wrong.

And just maybe when he’d thought he couldn’t get any lower than rock-bottom, he’d gone and dug himself a deeper hole.

He supposes that’s what he gets for hoping.

It wasn’t supposed to go this way.

But it did. And it went to hell, just like everything else you touch.

He knows he’s a screw-up in every meaning of the word, but he never thought he’d manage to mess up the one thing in this world that actually mattered.

He never thought he’d lose—

He can’t even finish the thought, because that makes it true, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle that, either.

Shouldn’t have gone back.

Shouldn’t have gone back.

Shouldn’t have—

He rests his forehead on the steering wheel and just tries to breathe, one stuttering breath after another.

He tells himself the water still spilling down his cheeks is rain or ocean brine or something other than what it is.

He tells himself it’s just anger.

He tells himself he doesn’t need any of them.

He tells himself things will be better one day.

He tells himself a lot of things.

But just below the surface, he’s well aware that every single one of them is a lie.

So he just sits there on the side of the road, alone, and… tries to breathe.

He just tries to breathe.

~ ~ ~

He’s already turned around long before the bell on top of the pawn shop door rings to announce Stan’s exit, has already slammed the door to the apartment behind him. He takes the stairs two at a time, and he faintly swears there’s something wrong with his legs, some slight wobble, something wrong with more than that.

He doesn’t think about it too hard.

When he comes into the living room, Ma is sitting on her window perch, watching him, and he tries not to register the hurt in her creased brow, the slight tug downwards in her lips. Pa is in his armchair, face hidden behind the newspaper. He doesn’t even look up when Ford comes in.

He makes a beeline to their the his bedroom, his eyes following the familiar treaded path in the carpet to the stairs. That way he can’t see Ma’s disappointment, Pa’s—

“Son,” Pa says, voice gruff. The word is a command, one that stops Ford in his tracks with his foot on the first worn stair, his spine going rigid. He hears Pa flip the page of his newspaper, the beat of silence stretching for far too long before— “I’m impressed. Glad you finally got up the nerve to kick that no good, low life—"

He doesn’t remember the rest, only the sound of the bedroom door clicking closed behind him as he breathes out a long, low sigh. The wood door is hard against his back as leans his whole weight into it, his mind buzzing numbly, the thoughts in his own head still blissfully absent, hopefully left behind in the pawn shop until they dissipate and stay forgotten.

He has too much to do now. Too much to worry about.

He can’t afford to think about certain things too hard.

His chest feels tight, so he takes a deep breath in, closing his eyes to feel the air filling his lungs. He never changed out of his clothes from last night, the smoke still embedded in the fabric of his shirt. He can still taste it in the back of his throat, bitter and raw.

He pushes himself off the door, aiming towards the center of the room, determined to do one last check to make sure he got everything of value. But something catches his attention when he moves, giving him pause. There’s something in his front pocket, bending and slightly pressing into his leg. Confused, he reaches in, fingers gripping and pulling out the piece of paper, smooth to the touch and thick enough that it—

…

Something twists harshly in his gut, something that registers as guilt.

He tells himself not to think about it too hard, but the thoughts still drift up from the shop below like smoke. Every word, every glare, every bit of cruelty replaying and overlapping and reverberating in his head like some discordant canon. The utterly destroyed look on Stan’s face seared into his memory. The taste of acid on his tongue as the words trapped inside his head finally spilled out.

He only ever cared about the boat. Not about you.

Not about you.

Only his treasure-hunting.

You were just convenient.

He tells himself not to think about it. To move on.

If that’s what you want, fine. I’ll never bother you—

He stuffs the picture back in his pocket, trying to forget the pair of twins smiling up at him, standing proudly on the remains of an old boat, carefree and naïve.

There’s just too much to do, too much to worry about right now.

He tells himself it’s all for the best anyways.

He swallows past the lump in his throat and moves to pick up the last packed box, purposely turning away from the empty bunk bed as he heads out of the room.

For the best.

The door closes behind him with a soft click.

He doesn’t look back.