#and finally i went down a rabbit hole a couple weeks ago and found a beer company called kirin that was starting to invest in makeup

[todayisafridaynight]

did you know make up becomes one of the most popular industries during a recession

bonus:

[writtenbymisunderstoodnerds]

With you, everything's okay (USWNT x ADHD Reader)

This is part 3 of the ADHD reader series. It's kinda long, but hope you enjoy!

Part one

Part two

Words: 4.6K

Due to the Adderall shortage I didn't have much of my medication, which was not great. I was supposed to get a refill a couple of days ago, but I wasn't able to yet. It could be a few days, weeks or months until I got more. Given what's been on the news, it was something I had anticipated so I had a few days worth for when I really needed it. I had a doctors appointment next week to try figure out a different medication, but I was almost tempted to just not do it. When I first got medication for my ADHD it was a long process of dose adjustments, and dealing with side effects. It was mentally and physically draining. It was something I didn't really want to go through again. The headaches and sleepless nights when I didn't take it were bad enough. Though I didn't know how I would cope long term without it. 

We had just started another month long camp which made this whole thing just a bit more difficult. Ally wasn't with me and I wasn't sure if or when she would be able to visit. For now I was trying to distract myself. I had spent hours so far scouring the internet and going from jeweler to jeweler with Ali trying to find the perfect ring for Ally. None of them were good enough or matched who Ally was. She didn't like fancy rings with big stones or really any stones. She preferred more plain, flush bands with maybe a tiny stone. Ally deserved more than a plain band though. I just had to find the perfect one. 

For the third or maybe fourth time I had dragged Ali out shopping with me. It had probably been hours and I still hadn't found anything that was right. I was starting to get frustrated when Ali literally dragged me away from the mall to the park across the road. 

"You need to take a break."

"But-"

"No, you're getting frustrated and irritable so we're taking a break."

My eyes started to water as I hid my face in my hands, "I just want to find the ring she deserves Ali."

Ali sat down beside me, pulling me into her side, "I know and we will. It'll just take some time, it's only been a few weeks since you got engaged. Have you looked into custom design rings?"

I had gotten Ally a cheap ring in the mean time, but I hated that she had to wait for a proper one. "I didn't even think of that."

We went back to the hotel after getting lunch. Since Ali mentioned it, I was itching to look into designer rings. I had briefly on my phone, but Ali quickly stopped me so I would actually eat. It was a free day so I locked myself in my room quickly going down the rabbit hole of custom rings. I spent hours comparing different companies and small businesses, calling or emailing them to figure out more around pricing and what type of designs they could do. I ended up finding a small business that could get it done in about 2-3 weeks once the design was decided on. 

The design was the next thing I got lost in. I wanted to get it done as soon as possible so Ally could finally get the ring to go with the proposal. There were a couple of ideas that I was playing around with, but it was hard to choose just one. I don't know how long it had been when my phone rang breaking me out of my fixation. Of course it was a facetime from Ally, her ringtone always brought me back to reality. 

Hey baby

Hi

What's got you so distracted that you didn't even look at me? I miss my beautiful smile

I laughed, quickly glancing at her, involuntary smile stretching across my face,Nothing, sorry

Right, I'll pretend I believe you. Did you eat?

It's not dinner yet

Baby, it's 9pm where you are.

No it's no- Oh shit, I got distracted

Ally giggled, the sound making my heart skip a beat. I wished she was here. I figured, Ali is going to bring you something since I know you won't leave whatever it is you're doing.

Thank you Al. Can I ask you something?

Anything

If you had to pick one thing from our relationship, date, holiday, whatever really, what's your favourite thing?

That's a hard one. Do you remember our snowboarding trip?

Our first trip together was a snow boarding trip. We hadn't been together very long and we ended up getting snowed in with no power for 2 nights. All we could do was read, cuddle, play board games, talk and try to keep the fire going. Ally and I had connected from the start, but that trip was a sort of turning point in our relationship. We got to know each other on a deeper level, telling each other all the intimate and deep parts of ourselves. That was when I told her about my adhd, my family, how they acted and how I felt growing up. 

It was the first time I ever cried in front of her. There had been a sense of shame wash over me. I wasn't one to cry in front of people, it had been ingrained in me since I was young. Ally had just held me tightly, whispering reassurances then making me laugh harder then I had in a long time. She had never judged me about anything. Sure, occasionally she would tell me I was being stupid, but she always had my back.

Where's that head of yours baby?

Sorry, I was just thinking back to that trip. It was a disaster, but I loved that trip.

Me too. I think that's my favourite

There was a knock on the door before I could reply. My stomach growled when I saw the food Ali was holding. I hadn't realised how hungry I actually was. In all honesty, I probably wouldn't have eaten if Ali hadn't shown up with food,  "Thank you Ali."

"You're welcome. I'm just glad someone could get through to you. We've all been texting and calling you, even knocked on the door. We figured you were asleep or completely zoned out."

"You got Ally to call me?"

"She was already going to. I just asked if she had heard from you. I didn't want to wake you up if you were asleep, I know the last couple of days have been hard."

"I appreciate that. I got stuck into that thing we were talking about. I'll show you later."

Ally and I continued to talk while I kept working on the design and she started to fall asleep. I stayed on the phone with her even after she fell asleep. We had always slept on facetime together when we were apart. It made us feel closer when we couldn't be. 

By time 4am rolled around I had finally finished the design idea. I had done a rough sketch, but also described my idea so the person could adjust if needed to what they could do. My design idea was mountains that wrapped around the entire band. A textured sky to resemble a snowy day with a small set diamond to look like the moon and hopefully someway to make the mountains look like it was covered in snow. I didn't know if it was completely possible, but even something remotely like that would be okay. I quickly sent it off before I could overthink and change my mind. I was very glad that we had another day off tomorrow. 

---

"Ally!" I ran, jumping in her arms and hugging her tightly. "What are you doing here?"

"Thought I would surprise you again."

"Not that I don't love that you're here, but aren't you busy at work?"

"I am, but I can work remotely now."

"You can? Wait, you got the promotion?" Ally nodded, huge smile on her face as I picked her up and spun her around, kissing her hard. "Oh my god, this is amazing. You are amazing. I am so fucking proud of you Ally."

The girls wandered into the lobby, greeting Ally with quick hugs, "Guys! Ally got the promotion!"

Some of the girls practically jumped on Ally telling her how proud they were. They had even dragged her out for dinner that night saying that we had to celebrate her achievement. Some even going as far as doing speeches. I loved how much they adored Ally, how they had welcomed her into the team without hesitation. 

We were lying in bed that night, wrapped up in each other. I brushed a piece of hair out of her face before kissing her softly, "I really am so proud of you Ally. You're amazing. You've worked so hard for this, you deserve this."

"Thank you Y/n. I couldn't have done it without your love and constant support even if my job bores you."

"Yeah well, for you I will go through all the boring shit in life a million times over." I kissed her softly before sighing, "I'm sorry Al."

Ally's forehead creased as her eyebrows drew together, "What are you apologising for?"

"I'm sorry that it's been weeks since I proposed and I haven't gotten you a proper ring yet. You deserve the perfect ring and I'm sorry you don't have it yet."

She smiled softly, cupping my cheek and making me look at her, "Do you remember what I said when you asked me to marry you?" I shook my head. All I remembered was her saying yes and being very excited. "I told you that I don't care about a ring and I meant it. If this was the only ring you got me, I wouldn't care. All I care about is being with you okay?"

"I love you Ally so fucking much. I just- Your ring is on the way, I just don't know when it'll get here."

"It's okay, I already know I'll love it."

---

Arms wrapped around me from behind, kisses being placed along my jaw. I turned my head, connecting our lips in a long kiss as I pulled her round to my lap. Ally squealed against my lips, giving me the opportunity to slip my tongue into her mouth. A breathy moan slipped from Ally as our tongues met. After a couple of seconds, Ally's fingers dug into my shirt as she pushed me away, "We're in the meal room."

"That can be changed besides no one else is here."

"I have a meeting in half an hour so stop being a horndog and show me what had you so focused."

"You can't blame me, you know what your work clothes do to me." 

I had been looking at different wedding themes on Pinterest, but I was struggling to find ones that might actually suit Ally and I. We were very simple people, we didn't need anything fancy to be happy. We weren't traditional either. It was something we used to make jokes about, how we would go the complete opposite way, have some random colour instead of white, casual clothes and a barbeque. Just one big party. I didn't know what we were actually going to do. When we talked about it, it was just an idea, far off in the future. Now it was a reality and I was so excited to marry Ally. I knew we actually had to talk about when we wanted to do it, but I couldn't wait to marry her. 

I turned my computer so Ally could see, "Anyway, I'm looking at wedding ideas. We should talk about when we want to do it, soon, sooner, soonish, far away, somewhere in the middle. I mean, I'm really fucking excited to marry you, but if you wan-"

"Okay baby, take a breath. You just named three times that are pretty much the same and aren't actually times."

"Sorry, I'm just excited. You know I never thought I would want to get married, let alone be this excited about it."

Ally wrapped her arms around me, kissing my temple, "I know Y/n/n. Don't apologise for being excited, I never meant to make it sound like a bad thing. Trust me, I can't wait to marry you and I love that you are excited to marry me, I would be kind of mad if you weren't."

I giggled, nuzzling my nose against her neck, "So what do you think?"

"Well, I think the sooner the better."

"Exactly what I was thinking. The more I look, the more I'm convinced on a court house wedding. It's such a process."

"A court house wedding would be a lot easier."

"No! you can't have a court house wedding," Kelley yelled making us jump and me glare at her. 

---

Today was the worst day yet without my meds. I was exhausted, my head hurt, I was irritable beyond belief, every little sound or touch felt a hundred times worse and I couldn't focus on anything. There had been a very small handful of times in our relationship that I couldn't handle Ally's touch, this was one of those times. It always made me feel like shit, guilty that my own girlfriend couldn't even touch me. That didn't help me feel any better. Ally was always so understanding about it all, reassuring me that it was okay and dealing with my over touching afterwards to make up for it. Today was no different, Ally had been amazing, giving me space, reassuring me.

Ally had brought me lunch so I wouldn't have to be around the team. We were sitting on the floor in silence after eating. Normally, just being near Ally would help but everything was starting to get too overwhelming. I felt like I was about to explode, like any second I would break. And I did. I didn't mean for it to happen, things just boiled over. Ally suggested we go for a walk, she knew it would help, so did I but I couldn't bring myself to leave the room. I ended up snapping at her.

"Come on Y/n/n, you know it'll help."

"Just give it a rest! I don't need you pestering me, I'm not a child, I'm an adult, I can handle this myself. Just back off."

Ally just looked at me for a second before getting up and walking out. I buried my hands in my hair, pulling slightly. Maybe it wasn't the most healthy thing, but it helped ground me. Well normally it would. It helped enough to snap me out of it and realised I fucked up, "Fuck."

Tears fell before I could stop them as I curled up in a ball and cried. I had never snapped at Ally like that before. Sure we had fights occasionally, but there was never yelling. I cried and sobbed, letting everything from the last week or so out. Being off my meds was exhausting, physically but mostly mentally. My mind was almost constantly a mess. It took me back to how I felt growing up. Like I was annoying, a burden, stupid. That the people around me only put up with me because they had to. Ally included. 

Once the tears finally stopped, I just lay there staring at the celling. It's like I was stuck there, I knew I had to go find Ally, but I couldn't move. The door opened then I felt someone sit down next to me. I knew it wasn't Ally, she always wore a perfume that I would recoganise instantly. 

"What's going on Y/n/n?" Christens soft voice filled the silence.

"It's too much. I-I don't know if I can handle this. I'm just a burden to everyone around me. I fucked up, Ally hates me. It's just too much Chris."

"Y/n Y/l/n you are not a burden. I know things are hard without your medication, but that does not mean you are a burden. We love you, we are here for you okay? I know it's hard, I know it feels overwhelming, but we've got you. We've always got you Y/n. Ally could never hate you, she loves you. Did something happen with her?"

"I fucked up. I snapped at her when she was just trying to help. I've never done anything like that before. I fucked up Chris," My voice cracked, tears somehow welling up again. 

Christen pulled me into her. I didn't fight it, instead gripping her shirt tightly as sobbed wracked through me again. She rubbed my back, whispering quiet reassurances. Eventually Christen moved, being replaced by someone else who held me tight, hand slipping under my shirt and drawing patterns along my skin. Perfume overtook my senses, that sweet perfume I knew so well. I sobbed harder, gripping her shirt as if my life depended on it. In a way it did. I couldn't imagine my life without Ally in it. She understood me in a way no one else did, she knew how to calm me down, how to support me, how to make me laugh. Most importantly she loved me despite my flaws. 

"I'm sorry Ally, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, I'm so-"

"Shhh, it's okay, I've got you baby, I've got you."

It took a while, but eventually the tears stopped. I sat up, moving away from Ally to sit against the bed. I felt myself go numb. Over the years, it had become my way to protect my self when things, especially emotions got too much. It hadn't happened in a while. Things were never too much when Ally was around, it was manageable. Right now I didn't know where we stood and I was scared.  

I felt two warm hands cup my cheeks and soft lips press against my forehead, "Don't do that. Don't blank out on me. Come back to me."

"W-what are you doing here?"

"Chris texted, she was worried about you, said you needed me."

"You came even after I said what I did."

Ally laced her fingers with mine, "Of course I did. While I didn't appreciate what happened, I know you didn't mean it. Besides, you needed me. I will always be there for you when you need me."

"I'm sorry for snapping at you, I was just so overwhelmed. I don't know if I can do this Al. It's just so much."

She pulled me up, wrapping me tightly in her arms then guiding me so we were cuddled in bed, "I know it's hard baby, I know it's frustrating, but we've got this. I'm right here by your side every step of the way, I'm not going anywhere."

"We're okay?"

"We're okay baby. You owe me a massage though, when you're feeling better to make up for this."

I chuckled, cuddling into her side, my eyes getting heavy, "Deal. I love you Al."

"I love you Y/n. Try and get some sleep. I'm finished work for the day. Chris is going to bring dinner for us a bit later."

---

The ring had just arrived at the hotel and I was scared to open it. I ran straight up to Ali, pulling her away much to the confusion of Ally and everyone else. I shoved the package at her, making her stumble back a bit.

"Calm down a bit Y/n/n. What is it?"

"The ring. Can you open it? I'm kinda scared."

Ali carefully opened the package then the box. I was way more nervous than I expected to be. I had spent so long trying to find the perfect ring, I guess I was worried this wouldn't be it, that it wasn't anything close to what I was hoping for.

"This is beautiful Y/n. It's perfect."

I slowly took the box from Ali, freezing when I saw it. It was exactly what I had envisioned. Seeing the ring felt like a weight had been lifted. After spending so much time searching, I finally had the ring Ally deserved. Thoughts of her not liking it tried to creep in, but I managed to push them away. I knew Ally would like it. "It's exactly what I wanted. It came out way better than I expected."

"So are you just going to give it to her? Or do another proposal?"

"I'm not sure. I was kind of thinking about proposing again just for the fun of it. The original proposal wasn't that special."

"I think you'll find to Ally it was. Even if it wasn't extravagant, it was just the two of you. Personal and intimate." 

"Probably. Let's be honest, I just want to spoil her. Can you hold onto this for me? I'm terrified of losing it."

Ali wrapped her arm around me, trying not to laugh, "Of course I will. Let me know if you need help planning it. Let's get back before they start to question it."

Ally was going to say yes. Knowing that let the excitement bubble up instead of the nerves. I was incredibly excited to propose to her, the plan was already coming together in my mind. I didn't want to wait, all going well it was going to happen tonight. 

Once we got back, I beelined to Ally, "I have two questions. First, will you go on a date with me tonight? Second, do you want to go make out?"

"Yes and definitely yes."

---

Since we started dating, picnics were a big part of our relationship. We both had jobs that meant we dealt with a lot of people. Picnics were the way we escaped reality and people without being inside or around our flat mates at the time. I figured there was no better place to propose then on a picnic. 

Because our date was last minute and we had practice today, I hadn't had enough time to set up the picnic. Ali had agreed to set up the picnic while I took Ally bowling. She loved bowling and it gave time to set everything up. Ally had won by a lot which was not a surprise, I sucked at bowling. Of course she had gloated about it, but with the proud smile she wore, I couldn't even be annoyed. 

Before we left, I had texted Ali to make sure everything was set up so we didn't get there too early. I was driving when the reply came in. Ally went to check like normal, but I quickly stopped her, much to her confusion. 

"You can't check that one, it'll ruin the surprise." I pulled over checking the message, making sure to hide it from Ally. Thankfully she didn't question it. 

Ali: Food took longer then planned, just picked it up, need 10 minutes to finish everything. Also found the perfect place to film it.

Ally was wearing a grey sweater, white blouse underneath with the collar showing and black jeans. I don't know what it was, but I found her incredibly attractive when she wore stuff like that. It was mostly for work which is why I got kicked out when she was working. I couldn't keep my hands to myself. "So we need to kill 10 minutes. You look incredibly beautiful so lets make out." 

"Yeah okay."

Ali had set up a blanket on the beach with candles, rose petals and a small speaker for music. Instead of doing the classic picnic foods, I got Ali to pick up some Thai food because it was Ally's favourite and another one of our traditions. 

I watched Ally's eyes light up as we approached the picnic, "Baby, this is beautiful. How did you set this up?"

"I may have gotten Ali to help set it up. You like it?"

"You don't even have to ask, I love everything you do. This is perfect baby. Is that Thai? I'm starving."

I had planned to do the proposal first for 3 reasons. I was terrified of losing the ring, it was likely I would get more nervous as time went on and Ali was waiting to film it. "It is, you need to wait a minute before we eat."

I found the ring before taking Ally's hand, "Growing up I never thought I would find someone who loved me so unconditionally, who loved me as I was. Who would stick by me and support me through everything. But I did. I found you and I never want to lose you. I want you, no I need you by my side for the rest of my life. I love you Ally, more than you will ever know. I know you've already said yes, but I wanted to do this properly." I sunk down on one knee, opening the box, "Will you marry me Ally?"

"Yes, a million times yes." I easily slipped the ring onto her finger watching her eyes widen as she looked at the ring closer. "Holy shit Y/n, this is amazing. Where did you find it?"

"I designed it. It's based on the snowboarding trip."

"Just when I thought I couldn't love you more, you prove me wrong. You are amazing baby. Words can't describe how much I love this. I want this to be my wedding ring as well. It's too perfect to just be an engagement ring. Is that allowed?"

"We can do whatever we want. Ali filmed that by the way, I wanted it for our memories." 

---

Ally and I were looking at wedding ideas together for the first time. At first I was slightly worried that we weren't going to be on the same page, that it might cause fights. I had seen it happen to couples before. I quickly realised that it was a pointless worry, we were on the same page about everything so far. We wanted simple, non-traditional. 

We had started looking at things we would need for the wedding, such as the venue and catering. Everything we had looked at so far was expensive, which I guess wasn't that much of a surprise, everyone always says weddings are expensive. 

I sighed, pushing the laptop away and turning to Ally, "Why are weddings so expensive? Like I know we can afford it, but it just seems like a waste."

"I know, it's just one day, we could use that money towards our honeymoon or a house."

I straddled Ally, hiding my face against her shoulder. As much as I loved planning things, without my meds, even that was slightly overwhelming after a bit of time. There were so many options and things to consider, "We could do a backyard wedding. Ali and Ash might let us use their place if we asked nice enough."

"Of course we would." I jumped, turning around to find them both standing there. 

"I swear the word wedding is like a magnet for all of you. Every time it's mentioned, someone shows up."

"Well you guys keep talking about it in places where there's a high likely hood of someone being around. Anyway, we would love to have your wedding at our place if that's what you wanted."

Reluctantly, I climbed off Ally, moving to stand by Ali and Ash, "You would really do that for us?"

Ali smiled softly, pulling me in for a hug, "Of course we will kiddo. You're family. You're family too Ally."

I noticed Ally trying to hide her smile. No matter how much they showed they loved her or treated her like part of the team, I still got the same warm, almost ecstatic feeling. To me the team was family. The fact that they saw Ally as family was really important to me. "We're not planning anything over the top or even overly traditional, just simple with friends and family."

"Are your parents going to be there?" Ashlyn tried to hide the annoyance in her voice when mentioning my parents, but it didn't work. I wasn't surprised by it, when they found out what it was like for me growing up, they were pissed. 

I had opened up to them about a lot of things, especially Ali, but besides vague information about how they treated me, my parents never really came up. "No, I um cut them off about 3 years ago. They were just destroying my mental health. Ally's parents will be there though, they pretty much took me in."

"They like you more than me sometimes."

"Well we can't wait to meet them."

[darkandstormydolls]

Finally went through the pictures I took a couple weeks ago for my Alice in Wonderland costume and I’ve very excited to share them!

I’ll admit that this isn’t the greatest costume I’ve ever made, but hey, it’s cute and iconic and good for frolicking.

I actually did a ton of research for this dress. I didn’t want to do a “historically accurate Alice” by any means, but I definitely wanted it to be historically informed at least. I looked at a bunch of images and drawings and extant dresses of little girls dresses from the 1850s and 60s (the book came out in 1865), and also went down a rabbit hole of looking at every illustrated edition of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland that I could. Fun fact I found: apparently the first in color version had Alice in yellow. But the blue dress is just so iconic, so I felt like I just had to go with that. The neckline ended up a little wide (I ended up taking it in a bit after taking these pictures) and the mix of dropped shoulders and puffed sleeves with that ended up reading more 1830s than 60s to my eyes, but it is what it is. The wide neckline, puffed sleeves, gathered bodice, buttons down the back, and tucks on the hem were all details from mid Victorian children’s clothes. I meant to do the skirt a lot shorter, around midi-length (still a little older than the seven and a half Alice is said to be in the books, more appropriate to a nine or ten year old), but the pinafore ended up longer than anticipated, so I made the skirt longer to preserve the amount I wanted showing, leaving them a smidge above the ankle and making my version of Alice closer to her early teens (which makes the more girlish details on the rest of the dress seem a little odd but oh well).

The pinafore of course was essential. I added little pockets to the front (mostly decorative, there are more practical pockets in the dress), and the trim is made up of lace and a layer of ruffled/pleated fabric (another fun fact: rather than gather it like a sane person, I instead decided to do about seven million incredibly tiny pleats. I regretted it. Quickly.). It was kind of inspired by the American Girl Kirsten’s’ birthday dress and pinafore, with the tapering in the back, and I added long ends to the waistband to tie in a big bow in the back. The shoulders on this were kind of wide as well, but it balances with the dress alright and I can tie it in a way that makes it a little better.

My other additions to this outfit were a couple of petticoats (one I already had with a ruffle on them hem, one I made for this with some narrow flounces by the hem, pantalettes with lace trim for that very iconic Victorian child look (except the skirt ended up too long so you can’t actually see them), black tights, and a hair bow. I debated for a while between black velvet (more like the original) or white (to preserve the contrast, since I have dark hair) and settled on a white ribbon from my (extensive) ribbon stash.

All in all, while this costume isn’t by favorite, it’s still pretty cute and comfy, and I’m pretty happy with it.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Longtime fans of Andrew Zaltzman will be aware of his famous early review that called him "grindingly mediocre". He brings it up fairly often. He used to have a thing in his stand-up where he'd introduce himself dramatically at the beginning, as though he were both a pro wrestler and his own hype man, shouting about all his accomplishments, and one was bragging that he was the comedian who was once called "Grrrrrr..." - said in a Tony the Tiger voice, but then he goes "Grrrrrindingly mediocre" instead of "great". He used to bring it up somewhat regularly in Bugle introductions too. And I've heard him tell that story in several interviews, that "grindingly mediocre" was the first review he ever got, when he was just starting to get serious about stand-up.

Last week I was down a bit of a rabbit hole in the ancient history of Zaltzman's comedy career, with the So You Think You're Funny finals from 1999, where Andy Zaltzman was a finalist alongside Russell Howard, Josie Long, and Jimmy Carr, and they all lost to David O'Doherty. Though Jimmy Carr was left off the Wikipedia page for years, which caused some brief research to confirm whether it was even true that Carr was there, though I think it is true, as he was on their website. And I found an old Bugle clip of Andy Zaltzman and David O'Doherty talking about having been in a new act competition final with Jimmy Carr once.

Anyway. I decided that today was the day to tackle another part of Zaltzman's comedy career's ancient history. Or rather, to tackle it again. Because of course I've tried to find that review before. I'd heard Andy mention that it was from 2000, and it was in The Observer. For the last couple of years, every once in a while I'll try again to search various combinations of those words, but nothing comes up.

But today, I was listening to Andy Zaltzman's appearance on The Horne Section Podcast, in advance of seeing more Zaltzman/Horne pairing next week. And I heard this:

Those were a couple of new details! I'd pictured this review being of a performance that Andy did in London; it was news to me that it was an Edinburgh thing, with The Comedy Zone. It was also news to me that his name was misspelled, which would explain why searches for "Andy Zaltzman" along with other key words was bringing up nothing. This gives me a new angle to try!

So I tried doing the searches with common misspellings of Andy Zaltzman's name - he gets Zatlzman and Zalztman sometimes. Then I tried without his name in the searches at all, just trying to find reviews of The Comedy Zone from 2000. I tried searching with the names of the people who were in the 2000 Comedy Zone alongside Andy: Karen Taylor, Danny Bhoy, and someone I'd not heard of named Spencer Brown. No luck.

I did find some other culture-based broadsheet news articles from 2000, though, and that sure is an interesting thing to click through in 2024. I found one 2000 Guardian article with the headline "Gay kiss on TV shows hidden power of disgust threshold".

Anyway, I started searching for names of people who could have written the review. Googling who were the Guardian critics who went to Edinburgh in 2000 to write reviews.

Whenever I found a name of one person who wrote culture stuff for The Guardian/The Observer in the early 00s or late 90s, I went to their profile to find all the articles they wrote in August 2000. I started with Brian Logan, because 1) he's the Guardian critic I know about already and I've found his very old reviews of Kitson shows before so I know he was with The Guardian that long ago, and 2) "grindingly mediocre" does sound like the sort of thing Brian Logan would say. But I checked - he only wrote a few articles from Edinburgh 2000, and none of them mentioned The Comedy Zone.

Through this, however, I realized The Guardian uses a tagging system, and I could click on the "Edinburgh Festival 2000" tag to get all the articles with that tag at once. There were 151 of them. First I skimmed them, clicking on any headline that looked like it could be related to The Comedy Zone, or a negative review. Nothing came up, so I just went to the beginning and started a system of clicking on every articles. Open ten or so articles at a time in new tabs, then in each one, hit CTRL+F - enter, with the word "grindingly" in the "find" bar, and when nothing came up, close it and try the next one. I did this over and over, for several pages worth of links, and at some point it became clear that it's not going to come up, and I was just still clicking because I may as well be able to say I checked everything.

I'm not proud to say how long I spent on this. I mean, I shouldn't be proud, but I did just spend quite a few paragraphs in this post explaining all the different steps I took, and the only reason to do that would be if I think the amount of research I did is impressive enough to be worth explaining, so I suppose I can't really say I'm not proud of it. Anyway, it was a bit over two hours. Well, two hours from when I started searching today until I found it. That doesn't include the many hours scattered across the last couple of years from other days when I've tried to look that up.

Two hours into today's searching, when suddenly, as I hit "enter" on a search for "grindingly" on some old article, it jumped down the page, and there it was. There it was.

That's the final paragraph for a larger article by Sam Taylor, a reviewer I'd not heard of before, that covered several different acts from the Edinburgh Festival, on August 6, 2000. Found it! I fucking found it!!

Firstly, when Andy said his name was misspelled in the review, and I was trying to guess what spelling they might have used so I could search for that, I would never have guess they spelled it "Zeltzman". I've never seen anyone spell his name like that before, not even in a YouTube comment.

Secondly, it turns out Andy was not kidding when he said he only got two words. I had always assumed he was exaggerating about that, saying he only got two words but meaning he felt reduced to those two words. Not that his first-ever review literally described him with only the two words "grindingly medicore". I shouldn't have doubted him.

It's an interesting assessment, that paragraph. Fairly accurate about Danny Bhoy, I guess, if you wanted to describe him in the meanest way possible. I don't find Danny Bhoy's comedy particularly funny, but he does have a personal quality that comes through on stage in a way that I'd describe as "charming and likeable", and yet, if I wanted to be as uncharitable as I could toward him, I could possibly describe that same quality was "boyishly narcissistic". I'm immediately suspect of what this guy said about Karen Taylor, as 2000 is early enough so women were more likely to get dismissed as "crude" for just doing stuff that was considered fine when men did it (I'm thinking of some of those old sexist Smack the Pony reviews). I mean obviously that can still happen now, but it was more common then. Maybe Karen Taylor wasn't any good. But this was right around when The Sketch Show came out and she was very funny in that, so I'm inclined to think this reviewer is just not a good judge. Especially since Zaltzman was one of two surnames he misspelled in that paragraph alone - there's no E in Sean Lock's last name. Also, the one Comedy Zone member that reviewer said was good is the only one I've never heard of. Which doesn't necessarily mean he wasn't good, but it does mean that reviewer picked wrong about who'd find success.

To be fair, he wasn't all bad in his predictions, as this was just the last paragraph of an article that largely consisted of praise for Rich Hall's character-based show, which would go on to win the Perrier Award that year (back when it was actually called the Perrier). And he praised Dave Gorman's show that also got nominated for the Perrier that year. This was, of course, the year of Are You Dave Gorman?, the godfather of concept-based Edinburgh hours. The article encourages anyone named Dave Gorman to help the comedian in his quest by contacting "dave.gorman@virgin.net".

But that's not all. That reviewer, still within the same article, had some stuff to say about just-out-of-a-double-act Stewart Lee:

The show is his usual patchily inspired mix of pseudo-profundity and postmodern knob gags. The knob gags get the laughs. Lee challenges his audience's value systems. That gets a laugh too. And so on. If you've never seen him before, it will probably seem really fresh and original. If you have, you'll realise this talented man has been treading water for several years now. The more you see Lee's show, the more transparent the veil of mystery appears. Strip away his intensely stylised delivery - slow, sarcastic, agonisingly repetitious - and the actual jokes are mostly rather conventional: anti-American gags; pisstakes of people making obvious statements; observations on Australia; anti-German gags; pisstakes of Ben Elton and John Denver; observations on anal sex and his penis. There are a few great lines - he has always secretly known that he was Scottish because he 'craved shortbread, offal and heroin' - and a dazzling little section in which he does the sea diary of an owl, trapped in a rowing boat with a pussycat and a jar of honey, to the accompaniment of moody ambient music, like a TV documentary on Scott of the Antarctic. Twenty minutes of brilliance is, admittedly, more than you get in most stand-up shows, but you're still left with the slightly sour taste of someone whose abilities are only being half-used. If he's really so jaded by comedy - 'My job is going round the world, talking about scatalogical filth,' he says, 'which is a bit rubbish, in my opinion' - then maybe he should give it up and do something more fulfilling instead.

Like with Danny Bhoy, a few of those lines are what I'd call technically accurate descriptions of Stewart Lee - in fact, in a few ways this suggests that it's amazing how little he's changed since 2000 - but only if those descriptions were written by someone being as uncharitable toward Lee as possible. Yeah, sure if you strip away the intensely stylized delivery he's just a guy telling jokes. We know. The intensely stylized delivery is quite a big part of it.

I do find the first paragraph of the Stewart Lee bit I quoted especially funny. The guy spent a few sentences quite accurately describing Stewart Lee's shtick as it's been for well over 20 years now, and then says: "If you've never seen him before, it will probably seem really fresh and original. If you have, you'll realise this talented man has been treading water for several years now." In 2000. I think Andy Zaltzman can discount the review that called him "grindingly medicore", as that same review claimed that by 2000, Stewart Lee's shtick had gotten old and people who'd seen it before would be tired of it. I also enjoyed the reviewer saying that Stewart Lee should just quit stand-up if he's so sick of it, as I think Stewart did just that the following year, after going on tour with Andy Zaltzman as his opener. Sort of. I'm not sure he entirely stopped performing, but left his agency and stopped doing major stand-up things for a few years. So a better prediction there, I guess.

Well, that was a satisfying day's rabbit hole-ing. I hope everyone is doing something... more productive than I am with their time.

[strawberrylollipop26-blog-blog]

The Untamed/Actors

Okay. I finally watched The Untamed and I really cannot stop watching the series.

A few weeks ago, I was bored enough to watch the show. First, let me say that it wasn't because I harbored any negative thoughts. See, I've heard of the show for awhile now. However, my version of remembering is someone telling me one of the mains dies. Well, I'm not a fan of sad endings so I refused to watch the series for the longest time. It's been sitting in my Netflix cue for awhile. Possibly a month before, I'd watched Word of Honor and before that Alchemy of Souls which meant I was pretty desperate for something new in the fantasy world (and besides I love a man with long hair). Ha.

Anyway, I somehow came across someone advertising the story on TikTok so I found the book and couldn't put it down. Took me a few days to read through (mostly because I have a person in my life who demands attention). No excuses left except to watch the series.

I was a bit sidetracked at first. I mean, there are some things that are the same and others completely different. I'm old enough to know the reason why they didn't include the actual couple coupling. I wasn't even upset about that and even though I was thrown off by the scenes of WWX with Qing. I understood where they were coming from too. I didn't understand why they changed the other elements of the story: the yin iron pieces, WWX genius, "the sword (they removed the body parts and I was really looking forward to a headless man chasing the junior disciples around). Sadly this meant removing a lot of the funny, jaw dropping parts too.

Either way, although some aspects took longer, I really liked this series. I'm really bummed it took me years to watch it. I feel like I missed all the hype, but then again I think Covid snuck up on this show too and they had to stop promotions afterward. I'm glad that of the research I've done the show did so well.

The relationship between LZ and WY in the book and show makes me want to scream. Honestly, both can be appreciated in different ways. Watching the show, again I wasn't disappointed with the character representation or their relationship.

A plus was I never gave JC a second thought while reading the book and even started to dislike him. The JC on the show gave me all the feels.

The Actors

I found out the main leads for WWX and LZ can actually sing. They're so good. The past week or so they did a show and I was able to hear them. I went down the rabbit hole after that. I didn't even know they sung the theme to The Untamed. I should've probably looked it up, but at the time I was too obsessed with the beautiful flute(?) playing to pay much attention to the singing.

Now, I'm in the process of discovering if I'm going to be a new fan.

Sidenote and complete digression. BTS it hasn't even been a full year and I'm already falling in love with new people. My heart was supposed to belong to them only. End of sidenote.

I've found other shows with the actors in them to try and discover if I actually like them or it's the hair and the story. I thought I liked actors before and then I just had a hard time being interested when I see them without hair. Sadly, I started watchin Xiao Zhan's new show and he unfortunately has hair so I'm still in love. Although, I found his other show Oath of Love and I'm going to check that out, but I think I should wait. I don't know if I should watch two shows at the same time with the same person. How will I ever know it's true?

His new show "The Longest Promise" is interesting, but I'm not sure how to feel about it right now. I'm taking my time so I'm only on episode five. Important note about me is I always choose streaming because I hate waiting for shows to come on. I know these are supposed to come out daily, but still. Normally, I'm the type of person to wait until everything's out to watch it.

I even found Legend of Fei with Wang Yibo, and he also has hair. I know he has another movie called Hidden Blade (I think), but I was unable to find that one.

Well, I will be digesting their other shows to see if I want to jump into new fandoms. Who am I kidding? I'm already in the shallow end.

[the-music-keeper]

Happy 2024!

Alright. So, quick updates. Comps are this semester. My thesis needs to be deposited this semester. I find out whether I got into either of the PhD programs I applied to this semester.

Basically, everything is happening this semester. It's fine.

But I'm back at home, I'm back at the job I had two years ago, and I'm taking trains to and from DC for class. It's great -- I like trains, and when I focus I actually get a lot done on the train. It's built-in study time.

Also, I'm thrilled to say that my last UT Austin rec letter was finally sent in on Monday night. That two weeks felt more like an eternity.

Anyway. I have a heck of a to-do list this week.

Musical Diplomacy/Book History Seminar

1. Read an article. (By my advisor.)

2. Read an essay. (Also by my advisor!)

3. Look at a score PDF. (Yeah, I'm not printing that.)

Theory

4. Look over slides before class. (They got posted today, so I went ahead and looked over them.)

Thesis

5. Finish my lit review. (Technically, I sent it yesterday, but there was one really important body of literature I looked at that I haven't addressed in the lit review yet.)

6. Finalize my case studies. (I definitely know what four of them are going to be.)

Comps

7. Fill out the form and send it to my advisor. (I really needed to do this last week.)

8. Make a plan for studying. (Any tips would be SUPER useful.)

9. Order the textbook for one of my past courses through the Consortium. (So I can pick it up on Monday.)

Research Assistantship

10. Program notes. (Well, at least I got them in by the end of the business day.)

Doctoral Programs

11. Research four faculty at Indiana. (Your girl got invited to a virtual interview day in a couple weeks and found out who she gets to meet!)

Latin American Music Center

12. Figure out an article topic. (Somehow I've gotten myself roped into writing articles for the Latin American Music Center this semester.)

13. Send a headshot and bio so they can post a blurb about me. (Forgot about this until literally two hours before I needed to send it in.)

Adulting

14. Laundry. (My sheets and clothes are all nice and clean!)

15. Clean my bathroom. (All clean!)

16. Clean the kitchen stainless steel. (My family recognizes me as the queen of cleaning the stainless steel.)

17. Gym trip #1. (I have a Y membership now, which is cool! My first trip of the week is happening tonight.)

18. Gym trip #2. (I ended up doing a step class.)

19. Gym trip #3. (Ended up with a buddy!)

Now if I can just refrain from going down rabbit holes @q-berts-mind tells me about (*hint hint*) ... I should be fine.

[peony-pearl]

I really wish I could go back and experience Avatar with fresh eyes. But I’m also glad I was exposed to it when it first aired.

I vaguely remember some advertising for it’s premiere and, at the time, I know I was in deep with my Kingdom Hearts hyperfixation. The first Avatar episode I saw was the day after prom in my Junior year when a girl in the friend group I was in turned on a rerun in April or May 2005. For some reason my mind is convinced the episode was Cave of Two Lovers, but it hadn’t aired yet. I’m not surprised I can’t remember the episode because at the time I was eyeballs deep in heavy OCD symptoms and kind of in the early stages of a huge mental breakdown haha. I’d had visible OCD symptoms for years but had no idea I had it; then barely a month later I was hospitalized and diagnosed because of my intrusive thoughts and ruminations. It kinda sucked lmao.

Over the next couple of years I was exposed to Avatar mostly because of my Uncle. He adored the series. He was an avid cartoon fan who loved art and comics and drawing and had the bones of one of his own comics but became ill and passed away before he could finish it. I appreciated Avatar for what it was, but didn’t really have the heart to get invested. There was a point that I did make an oc and drew some art and wrote a bit but it lasted like maybe 2 weeks tops. 2005-late 2007 was a minefield period of time that was mixed with me trying to reconfigure my whole personality (right around the time I turned 18 so THAT was good timing) and trying to enjoy the things I loved before my breakdown. I was desperate to be who I was before everything happened.

However, I did keep up with the series after moving to another state and the third season began airing. I remember watching Day of Black Sun and then the finale. I just kept up with it out of interest. Then years went by and I finally started moving forward. I found new interests that helped me become creative again, all while making the painful realization that my mental health was a permanent thing after believing I had ‘conquered’ my OCD. I also unknowingly had ADHD, which I was finally diagnosed with this year, which exacerbates my OCD and intrusive thoughts and ruminating.

Years went by, I went through college, I’ve had so many different jobs, I paid off my student loans late 2020 and then in 2021 my mental health got so bad again I finally sought out therapy for the first time in ten years. I started taking medicine for depression and mood swings. Almost all I was doing was working. I lived with my parents, which wasn’t a bad thing; but the strict schedule and my night shift meant I had little chances of doing much, and I gained weight from stress eating for dopamine.

Then almost a year ago I moved out for the first time; hence my DBZ hyperfixation. I wanted some nostalgia, and I’d had a 2 year period where that series was my bread and butter in 2002-2004. However, I moved again earlier this year, and at first it was all about adjustment; but I was beginning to realize I just didn’t do anything. I still have that issue. But in trying to wonder what it was exactly that I wanted or didn’t want, I started to realize if I’m going to live, I may as well start seeking out things to do.

I was tired of just existing, so I finally set up violin lessons, and I’ve been attending them weekly (save missing one here or there) since April. I’ve learned what I have the power to do, even if I often lack the motivation and drive. I’m becoming more and more content, even if there are the off-times when things are iffy.

I was absolutely not expecting my re-introduction to Avatar to be a gifset of Iroh threatening Zhao in the Spirit Oasis; a scene I was unfamiliar with. I think I had watched the series on Netflix some years ago, but again, I’ve lacked the commitment to it. The punch of that scene with a character I had associated with benevolence after being lukewarm towards the series intrigued me, and I fell down the rabbit hole lol

And I’ve realized that, after getting older, the show is actually a lot more meaningful; and after stumbling upon a gifset of Iroh’s quote ‘Life happens wherever you are, whether you make it or not’; that hit me. That was exactly what I’d started trying to live by over the past couple of months. Zuko’s strive to figure out who he wants to be hits home too, as I often struggle, even at 34, with what I want or who I want to be. (granted, I need to find a new therapist but that’s another story lmao)

After seeing all this merch pop up and be like ‘oh yeah Avatar that’s a good show’ and being disconnected, I now adore it. I know the bones of it but I’m still learning all of the smaller details and worldbuilding and lore. I’m a newbie but at the same time I know what it is and watched the premieres of The Awakening, The Day of Black Sun, and Sozin’s Comet.

I’ve always appreciated the series for it’s creativity and how it avoided talking down to it’s audience (yeah it had kid moments but it was a Nickelodeon show). And even as an adult so many messages ring true. I definitely  put it on the same page as Gargoyles (because 1. I’m biased and 2. both are intricately woven stories that treat it’s audience as adults; I wish Gargoyles had gotten the same closure Avatar did, but for what it is it’s still an amazing show and I’ll always adore it and I’m so glad a show like Avatar did get it’s story completed for the most part)

And yet it’s Iroh’s line ‘whatever you do to that spirit, I’ll unleash on you tenfold’ is the one that kind of brings tears to my eyes; because it rings of conviction and fortitude to do the right thing, and is what brought me back to a little piece of fandom that, even if I already know all of the twists and turns and spoilers, was there for me to pick back up on when I needed it and to help me continue to move forward.

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

Big Secret

Pairing: Kirishima x reader, but also . . . pining!Bakugou

Warnings: Mentions of/implied sex, but nothing actually graphically happening. Gay/Bi/Poly fun stuffs. Bakugou doesn’t like the color pink. Also language from YoU kNoW wHo

Author’s Note:

*sips tea*

So.

Technically, no one asked for this, but I wanted to write it anyway. Then someone requested a sequel, so I made this prequel first (because I had a clearer idea, nothing against them). It doesn’t matter if you read Little Secret or Big Secret first, so do whatever if you’re new. 

Little Secret did surprisingly well, so I was more than happy to jump back into the mini AU. This takes place about a month before the events of Little Secret. I could not pick whether this is angst or crack, so I made it both. Both is good.

This is my first crack at angst (haha, see what I did there? I’m so smart and funny). If it’s bad, then it’s kind of just practice for me. If it’s good and you decide you like it . . . hooray! I did something right for once.

Anyway, I’ll shut up now. Enjoy!

-Sugar

⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙

⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙

Bakugou stood in front of your door, scowling as usual.

Ever since you and Kirishima had started dating, it felt like the red-haired hard boy was impossible to be reached, constantly spending all his time with you. Bakugou had expected as much when the two of you had announced to him that you were a couple, but this was starting to get ridiculous. He was starting to feel a little too left out, getting angry at how much he found himself missing your presences as you had once hung out interchangeably in all three of your rooms. But that was before, when you were all just friends.

Just friends.

Bakugou shook his head before rapping impatiently at your door. "Oi, (N/N), have you seen Kirishima?"

"I'm in here."

Katsuki immediately recognized the sound of the redhead's voice on the other side of your door, causing him to frown. Of course. Just as he'd anticipated.

"It's open," you called.

And you were in there too. Gods, he hoped he didn't just catch you two doing something disgusting, like kissing or worse. He was almost to the point of praying that the two of you were at least decently clothed when he opened the door.

What he most certainly didn't expect was the sight before him, immediately smacking him in the face the moment he walked in.

Kirishima had just gotten up from laying belly down on the floor, clad only in a pair of loose black sweatpants, defined muscles clearly out for anyone to see. You were right next to him, sitting in your cute pajamas. Bakugou had tried telling you off for copying him by wearing that black tank top like he did, but you had insisted that it had been as much your idea as it had been his. His gaze wandered to your bare legs, accentuated by a pair of short (F/C) shorts.

The most shocking thing however, was the fact that both your faces were slathered in some sort of mint-green paste, hair tied up and pushed back with fuzzy animal-themed headbands.

"Need something, Bakubro?" Kirishima asked, yanking him out of his thoughts before he could get too far down a rabbit hole that would be painfully embarrassing to climb himself back out of.

"You have my notes. I need them."

It was true, Kirishima had asked to borrow Katsuki's lesson notes, like he always did at the end of the week. Upon finding the boy absent from his room, Bakugou could have easily let himself in and taken them off his desk, right where they always were. But for some reason, he'd been driven to go out and find the redhead. He didn't know why. Maybe it was to torture himself. He never knew why he even still bothered being around you two.

There was a new feeling ever since you'd become official; a sickness churning in the pit of Katsuki's stomach. Oddly, he vaguely recognized it from when that damned Deku would constantly show him up, but this one was always much stronger, somehow even more painful.

Why did he wince every time you went to grab Eijirou's hand? Why did he find himself with the urge to go be sick when he'd first seen Eijirou lean over to give you a peck on the cheek? It had been because it was gross couple stuff, right? Bakugou wasn't here for all that nasty touchy-feely stuff. He'd seen his parents do it, and it disgusted him. And now his best friends were doing it with each other; sometimes right in front of him, sometimes when you thought he couldn't see.

But he saw, and he knew. He'd heard you, late that night after training. Heard the two of you noisily entering Kirishima's room, clicking the lock on the door as you'd stumbled to the opposite wall. He'd listened to everything: the telltale sounds of skin meeting skin and coming together. He'd heard both your sweet, pretty voices, desperately trying to keep quiet as foreign waves of feelings coursed through your bodies on the other side of the wall. The thin wall, where every sound was as plain as if the barrier hadn't been there at all.

He should have stopped himself then. He should have given up all hope, closed down all his feelings. He'd laid awake the whole night, thinking about how his two best friends were now seeing each other in this way. You were third years, and having relationships within the class was to be expected. But his best friends? Together? And now it was just him. The sideliner. The outcast. The third wheel. Alone.

He'd been forced to listen. It hadn't been his choice. It was even less his choice when the two of you had approached him the next day, listening one last torturous time to you as Kirishima sheepishly explained that the two of you had become an item. Bakugou pretended like he didn't already know.

He should have stopped hanging out with you, distancing himself as the two of you grew closer. But this had all happened almost four months ago, and he hadn't been able to force himself away from either of you. He couldn't tell if he resented you both or genuinely enjoyed your company.

What did it matter? It was only his stupid emotions, stupid feelings bleeding through his enforced walls. He had other things to focus on, better things. Like being a hero. Training to be at the top of the class, climbing ever higher to surpass All Might and be the number one hero. That was his goal. That was his purpose. It had nothing to do with his idiot, overly supportive best friends—if he could even call you that anymore.

"Your notes?" Eijirou's voice questioned.

"Yeah," Bakugou said. "Where are they?"

"My desk," Eijirou said. "Like always. My door should be open, you could have just taken them."

Bakugou scowled. "Oh," was all he said.

"Hey, we're having a spa night," you piped up.

"I noticed," Bakugou deadpanned.

"Ooh, you should totally join us, Bakubro!" Kirishima's green-caked face slipped into a grin with ease, flashing his ridiculously cute sharp teeth.

"Yeah!" It was your turn to beam, face lighting up in your smile. "Spa night for three!"

Just the three of you. That sounded wonderful. And also absolutely terrible.

Bakugou scoffed. "You're not going to get me to do your childish nonsense. I need to go study. And then sleep."

"The gren-nerd returns," you said, rolling your eyes. "Come on, Blasty, there is such a thing as too much sleep."

"Yeah," Kirishima agreed. "Besides, it's a Friday night. You have all weekend to do whatever. Have some fun with us and lighten up for a change!"

Katsuki glared at you, hovering inside the door frame. You smirked and began pumping your fists in front of you, maintaining eye contact with him.

"Spa night, spa night, spa night—" Your voice took on a low, stage whispered chant, and soon Kirishima joined in next to you.

"Spa night! Spa night! Spa night—!"

"Fucking dammit," Bakugou finally said, slamming the door shut behind him and stomping over to where you were sitting in the middle of your floor. He hurled himself down into a sitting position, trying to make every possible inch of his body language convey that he didn't want to be here. "You're just a pair of idiots and losers."

"I refuse to be cast down by your simplistic labels and insults," you said dramatically, placing a hand on your chest. "Gimme your face. Now."

Bakugou jerked his head back from you, even though you technically hadn't even reached for him yet. "What are you going to do?" he asked suspiciously.

"We must start with the face mask. Eiji, go get him a headband."

"A what?! I am not—"

"Yes, you are," you said firmly. "Unless you want to go take another shower to get it all out of your hairline, because, trust me, it gets everywhere."

Kirishima came back and flopped back down beside you, handing over a fuzzy, pink and white fabric headband with small bear ears stitched onto the side. Bakugou looked from it to the ones you were wearing. You donned a sparkly pink unicorn themed one, decorated with a horn, ears and a fluffy puff of a mane. Kirishima wore one that was very similar to the headband you were now holding, except his was black and white, clearly panda themed.

Katsuki pointed at Eijirou's head. "I want his."

The redhead blinked. "What?"

"Yours is cooler and not pink. I want that one."

You sighed. "Katsuki, it doesn't matter."

"I'm not wearing pink!"

"What's wrong with pink?" Eijirou asked.

"It's too girly!"

"Hey, pink can be a manly color," Kirishima argued. You nodded your head in agreement.

"Then why aren't you wearing it?" Bakugou shot back.

Eijirou blinked. "I, uh—um—"

"See, you don't want to wear it either!"

"That's not—!"

Bakugou lunged towards Kirishima, grabbing at the item keeping his red bangs pushed off his forehead.

"AAH—hey! It's gonna smear—!"

The boys took a moment to scuffle, Eijirou desperately trying to hold back Katsuki's arms as they grabbed at him. You took a moment to look into an invisible camera like you were on The Office, heaving a sigh.

"Alright, that's enough." You pulled Katsuki off your boyfriend by the back of his shirt collar, shoving the pink headband into his hand. "You can either wear the headband, or you can let it get in your hair. Eijirou was here first, so that one's his. Got it?"

Bakugou donned his 'I just bit into a lemon' face, spitting out a "tch" before reluctantly putting it on his head, pulling it up so his forehead was on display.

You noticed the ears were a bit off kilter, leaning a little too far to the left. It set off a tic in your face, making you reach over and straighten it out. You couldn't help but notice how Bakugou froze when your hands and face came nearer to his own, breaths stuttering and slowing to a stop. You sheepishly finished adjusting it, sitting back when you were satisfied.

In all honesty, you'd tried to ignore Bakugou's shift in behavior around you. He was as abrasive and irritable as ever, but there was something in the way you'd noticed him looking at Kirishima. You'd gotten briefly jealous until you realized he often acted the same around you. You told yourself to pay no heed to it, and now certainly wasn't the time to be sorting out and guessing at the feelings of your emotionally closed-off best friend.

"If either one of you takes my picture like this," Bakugou said. "I'm gonna fucking kill the both of you."

"Sure."

You glanced over and made eye contact with Eijirou. One of you had to do just that without him noticing by the end of the night. He was simply too cute not to; the pink matching his ash blond hair just right.

You tore your gaze away from Katsuki. I have a boyfriend right here, who I love very very much, you reminded yourself.

That much was true. Maybe you weren't allowed to order off the menu anymore, but it couldn't hurt to take another glance.

"Alright," you announced. "I'm getting the face mask back out." You got up and walked to your felt storage container of toiletries, grabbing the same green tube and package of face wipes you'd used only minutes prior.

"So why the fuck do you have three of these?" Bakugou asked, referring to his newly acquired pink ears.

"Sleepovers, duh. Also there was a sale and they're really cute and cheap, so there."

Bakugou let out another tch as you sat back down in front of him. You pulled out a wipe and began to work at his face, removing any oils that might have gotten on there throughout the day.

"Relax your face," you ordered, and Bakugou surprisingly complied. "You'll get wrinkles if you keep doing that. You know, the whole frowny thing."

"You sound like my mother, dumbass," he commented, keeping his lips turned down in a frown.

"Well, your mother is right."

"Feh."

You ignored his dismissive noise. "You have really nice skin, you know," you commented, moving back to your seated position and tossing the wipe in the general direction of your trash bin. "Do you have a routine? I found out today that Eijirou doesn't so that's what got us started."

The redhead shrugged behind you, having taken out his phone while you tended to Bakugou.

"Um, I wash it sometimes," Bakugou admitted. "My mom said something about how our sweat helps keep it clear, but she still sends me stuff every now and then."

"Neat." You sighed. "Wish my sweat actually helped my skin. Other than, you know, keeping it cool and whatever."

You took the tube from the floor next to you, popping the cap open and squeezing some onto your fingers.

"What is that stuff?"

"Avocado oatmeal clay mask," you said, glancing at the label. "Purifying."

"Huh."

You leaned forward again on your knees in front of him, beginning to spread the green paste over his cheeks and forehead like you'd done to Kirishima.

"I'm not a baby, you know," he protested. "I can do it myself."

"Oh, come on," you countered. "It's fun having your friends take care of you. Just let me do this."

Bakugou sighed through his nose. He had to admit, there was a teeny tiny part of him that liked how close you were, the way your fingers glided over his cheeks and forehead.

But you had a boyfriend. A very sweet, loving, cheerful boyfriend. He was yours and you were his, and Bakugou was . . . unavailable. He'd stay yours and Kirishima's friend, and he'd just have to accept it.

You finished fixing up his face, going back to your criss-crossed sitting position and wiping your fingers off with a tissue.

"Now what?" Bakugou asked.

"We can wash it off in about ten minutes, we just have to wait for it to dry."

Bakugou sat back, assessing the sensation of the mask on his face. It was cold and sticky, but he had to admit it smelled good. He'd never done anything like this before, and the tiniest part of him actually didn't hate it.

You started talking about a meme you'd seen on Instagram, and you laughed with Kirishima. You both were cute in your face masks and headbands. He would never admit it, not even to himself, but maybe Katsuki would be willing to sit through something like this again if it meant seeing you both like this.

You sat back and seemed to go into thought for a moment, as if trying to decide what to do next. "Eijirou, let me see your nails." He presented them to you, his face questioning. You studied his cuticles, clicking your tongue. "Imma get you some nail oil. We could probably all use some."

You got up again and grabbed the little bottle, twisting off the cap and beginning to brush the liquid onto your boyfriend's nails.

"What does that do, exactly?" he asked, watching you concentrate.

"Strengthens your nails," you explained. "Keeps them hydrated so they won't crack and break off so easily."

"Look at that Bakugou!" Kirishima proudly proclaimed. "I’m gonna have strong, manly nails!"

You giggled, beginning to blow on them so the solution would soak in and dry faster.

"Babe, I just realized something," Kirishima said.

"Yeah?"

"We look like Shrek."

You looked up at him, his face caked in the solid green mask, then turned your gaze to Bakugou. "You know, I wasn't going to say anything, but, yeah, we totally do."

You both started cracking up again, and Eijirou laid down on the floor as he laughed. He had the sweetest laugh, the absolute best. You provided hefty competition, however; your slightly higher voice adding to your own pretty sound.

"No hate on my mans Shrek, though," Kirishima said, sitting back up as his audible joy died down a bit.

"Shrek is love, Shrek is life," you said, nodding your head solemnly.

"I thought I was love. For you." Kirishima's expression changed to puppy eyes, pretending to be more hurt than he was.

"Uh, yes. But I've known Shrek longer than you, so he represents life."

"What the fuck, guys."

You both ignored Bakugou's comment, proceeding to bicker.

"But he doesn't love you like I do," Kirishima argued.

"He's shrekxy."

"I—" Kirishima blinked, shaking his head a little in bewilderment.

"Fite me, it's a scientific fact."

Instead, Kirishima turned his gaze to the blond, who was watching the full affair with barely concealed intrigue. "Bakubro, I'm getting jealous of a fictional 2-D green swamp ogre. I think my girlfriend is going to leave me for him."

"Actually he's 3-D," you corrected.

"See?" Kirishima exaggeratedly gestured at you in mock offense. "She doesn't appreciate me anymore for who I am. I'm going to rebound to you, Katsu."

Bakugou stiffened at the proposal. He knew it was just a joke, but now he couldn't get the thought out of his head of actually being with Kirishima. Allowing his hand to grasp his. Placing a kiss on the boy's cheek. Waking up next to him in the morning. Was that his problem? He wanted what you had with Shitty Hair? Or did he want what Kirishima had with you?

"Like I'd ever date you!" Bakugou finally spat, after maybe a bit too long of a pause. "You're a dumbass idiot, just like your girlfriend. You two are perfect for each other!"

Both you and Kirishima blinked at Katsuki's outburst, turning to make eye contact.

"Thank . . . you?" you said, unsure if you should take it as a compliment.

You were both used to Bakugou being brash and loud, often yelling insults he probably didn't mean. But this was a bit unusual, even for him.

What is going on with you, Katsuki?

You sat back and made a little "pthbb" sound with your lips, taking the cuticle oil and starting to apply it to your own nails.

"So when are you going to go back to rubbing my back?" Eijirou asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Or is that only for Shrek?"

You snorted. "I love you, Eiji. I'd give you a kiss on the cheek to prove it, but you've got some artificial avocado there."

Bakugou's frown shifted a bit. At least the masks were good for one more thing.

"Where?" Eijirou teased, feeling at his face as though it wasn't slathered in a thick layer of green paste.

"Ha ha," you said dryly. "I'll go back to personal masseuse-ing after we wash these off."

"When's that?"

You leaned over and tapped at Bakugou's face, finding his still a little moist. "Five minutes," you wagered.

Eijirou started a conversation about training, lightheartedly arguing with Bakugou over one of his techniques.

You watched the nuances of how the two interacted. They'd been friends for so long, they just sort of flowed together and bounced off each other perfectly. Kirishima was clearly more physical, wrapping an arm around Bakugou's shoulders or touching him on his arm or his back. Bakugou never yelled about this like he would with probably anyone else, instead choosing to silently glower while Eijirou finished his thought.

Finally it was time for the masks to be washed off, the three of you crowding around the sink in your cramped bathroom. Eijirou helped you wipe yours away first with some damp paper towels, delighting in being so close to you and your beautiful face. Bakugou opted to simply wash his own off in the sink, splashing cold water over his cheeks. He watched the little green flakes and chunks swirl down into the drain, some of them catching stubbornly on the porcelain surface.

He straightened and looked at his newly washed face in the mirror. He didn't look or feel any different, sans the fuzzy pink bear ears that still wrapped around his forehead. Bakugou tugged them off, stepping away from the sink so Kirishima could take his own turn in washing.

The blond watched the both of you finish up, Eijirou rubbing gently at his face while you patted toner into yours. There was something so mundane about it, even in your tight closet of a toilet space. He liked the little smile you took on as you gently slapped liquid onto your cheeks, and how Eijirou squeezed his eyes shut and gave little shakes of his head to escape from the rivulets of water streaming over his features.

Kirishima stood back up, taking a look at himself in the mirror much like Bakugou had done moments before. "Wait a minute—I still have acne!" He leaned in and closer examined a small cluster of raised bumps.

"Of course you do, ya goof," you said, snickering and setting down your bottle of toner. "It's just a clay mask. If you want magic, use calamine lotion overnight. That should do the trick."

"Why didn't we do that instead?"

"Because these are more fun. And a lot shorter."

Eijirou shrugged and pulled his own headband off, soft red bangs falling over his eyes. Katsuki took a second to admire it. What would it feel like under his fingertips? He wondered for a brief moment how soft it truly was before he ripped his eyes away again. No. No. NO.

"So are you going to rub my back again?" Eijirou asked, puppy-dog eyes shining at you hopefully.

"Maybe later," you said, sliding your headband over your head and undoing your hair. "Right now it's Katsuki's turn. And mine, if it's not too much trouble."

Kirishima sighed tragically, slumping forward. You grinned and went up behind him, rolling the pads of your thumbs into his shoulder blades. He tilted his head back, sighing and closing his eyes at the feeling.

"Babyyy," he said, drawing out the last syllable. "Don't tease me like that."

You giggled and kissed his shoulder. "I'll get back to you soon enough, just be patient."

Bakugou watched the two of you yet again. He had a strange feeling like this was more complicated for him than it should be. Why couldn't he just pick one of you to hate more than the other and move on? Why couldn't he decide which one of you he would rather be in your situation?

"Yo, Katsu," you said to him, bringing him out of his own head. "Get over here." You had sat yourself back down on the floor in the middle of your room, and Kirishima was stationed behind you.

Bakugou walked over and flopped down in front of you, unsure of what to expect.

"Lay down perpendicular to me," you said, tapping his shoulder.

"What? Why?"

"You'll relax more. Do it."

The blond grumbled a bit more before turning himself and laying down on his stomach. "Happy, dumbass?"

"Indeed." You began to work at his shoulders through the barrier of his shirt. Behind you, your boyfriend did the same, running his large hands over the muscles on your back. "How often do you get this done?" you asked the boy under you.

"What? A massage?" Bakugou was really trying to ignore how good your fingers felt on him, pushing and applying pressure in places he didn't even know he needed.

"Yeah."

"Never," he admitted.

"Wait, what?" Eijirou said from behind you.

"Yeah, how?" you asked, stilling your hands. Bakugou resisted the temptation to squirm under you to get you to resume what you had been doing. "That can't be good what with all the training you do."

"I have those foam rollers," he said. "They work just fine."

"Aw, come on," Kirishima said. Bakugou was glad his face was more or less planted on the floor so he wouldn't have to look up at him. "It feels so much better when you have someone else do it for you."

"Tch."

"Katsuki, Katsuki, Katsuki," you tsked, going back to your motions on him.

The blond quietly sighed through his nose, allowing himself for a moment to sink into the feeling of your fingers dancing over his muscles. As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, it felt really nice. He was surprised at how skilled you were, alternating between your thumbs and your knuckles to provide the most pressure, working out tension as you went along. Your hands, which were so small compared to his and his friend's.

Maybe he was starting to like this a little too much.

You and Eijirou had picked up another conversation about nothing. Bakugou was more than content to zone in and out of it, picking up on your even voices. He listened to the little breathy sighs you'd let escape as the redhead pushed into your back much like you were doing to Katsuki. They were almost too cute, and the more he was left in his own mind, the less comfortable he became.

He began to shuffle under you, a part of him wanting to get up and leave, another willing himself to stay.

"You comfortable, Bakugou?" you asked him. "Want a pillow or something?"

The way you'd said his family name; Bakugou. He was an outsider. He shouldn't be here. He pushed himself up from the floor and out from under your hands.

"Woah," Kirishima said. "Where you going, man?"

"I need to leave." Bakugou rammed his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and turned to your door.

"Wait, are you okay?" you asked, moving to get up too. "Did I do something wrong?"

Bakugou ignored you, adjusting his black t-shirt as he flung your door open and shut behind him.

You slumped back into Eijirou in defeat. "What is going on with him?" you lamented, eyes glued to the closed door.

Your boyfriend rested his chin on the top of your head, pondering as you pressed into him. "I have no idea. He's been acting weird for a while . . . . Could it be something going on at home?"

Your eyebrows scrunched a bit in thought. "I don't know about that. Do you think it could be us?"

Kiri shifted himself so he could lean in and look at your face inquisitively. "What do you mean by that?"

"I don't know," you shrugged. "It's just that . . . you and I are together and he's . . . alone. I mean, we're still friends, but he might feel . . . left out."

"Ohhh." Kirishima sat back again, pulling you further into his chest. "What should we do?"

You sighed, curling up against his bare skin. "I don't know."

...

Bakugou sat, finally alone in his room. What was happening? What was going on? What was wrong with him?

He hated this, these new feelings. The jealousy he felt whenever you and Kirishima were close and he was left to the side. He wanted to join you, feeling your arms wrapped around him and Eijirou's kiss on his cheek.

But he would never be able to.

Surely, you both would hate him if he said anything. You'd think he was just being sad and greedy, maybe even a creep. It would completely destroy your relationship with him, and he'd lose the two best friends he'd ever had.

Katsuki's bed dipped beneath him as he sat down onto it, placing his head in his hands. Infinite loops of yes and no spiraled forever around in his brain, willing him to just do something.

But he couldn't. There was nothing he could do. He'd have to choose either parting ways with you both or just feeling this way . . . forever, keeping it to himself. He was tired of it already. He wanted the feelings to go away. He wanted to stop hurting like this and being so confused. His rational mind told him to just turn and leave. It made sense. He'd be able to focus fully on his ambitions and become the best hero ever. And yet a tiny, stubborn little part of him knew, just knew that he wouldn't be able to go. There was something between the three of you, and even the tsundere-lord Bakugou Katsuki couldn't ignore it.

He laid back on his bed, closing his eyes. In the dark, he listened. But this time there was no sound. His mind wouldn't rest however, racing and screaming and hurting. It would be hard, but Bakugou would have to do it.

This would all just have to be his big secret.

⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙

[Little Secret]

[Disclosed]

Author’s Note:

No happy ending?? Well guess what, this is a three-parter. The epilogue/sequel/part three will be purely Kiribaku(+you) fluff, so get ready for that. I know I am!! Also remember Little Secret exists. CUDDLES!! and TICKLES!! YES!

Thanks for reading,

-Sugar

Taglist: @basicaegyo​ @iiminibattlehero​ @katsugay​​ @nabo39​​ @pyrofanatic​​ @sendhelpimstupid​ @sokkasangel​​ @xoxopam4​​

[omegaplus]

# 3,895

Academy Annex mail order; December 2021 / January 2022.

I had an eventful 2021. After all was said and done, the positive far outshined the negative. City trips to Williamsburg’s Rough Trade. Surprise pinball arcades. Endless radio broadcasts. Picking up Rob Villian for the first time in nine years. Meeting slender -Tash. Uniform at Saint Vitus. Family Christmas dinner at Staten Island. For once, no major bombshells or derailments put me in a deeper hole that I was already trying to climb out of.

Not a day goes by where I don’t use Discogs. I use it all the time to grab album artwork, expand my horizons, and even purchase music there if I feel. Out of nowhere I saw that someone was selling the Boulders’ Rock And Roll Will Never Die 12” for $2.97. Now that gave me an idea: who’s selling it and what else could I buy from them? Turned out it was Greenpoint’s Academy Annex, Oak Street to be exact.

Here we go again with Brooklyn record stores. In fact, I should’ve started city music-shopping a long time ago, but it never occurred to me as Long Island has at least ten to twelve locations itself and that’s more than enough for me. For the past couple of years, the New York City post-punk, d.i.y., industrial, and punk worlds have fascinated me thanks to my former allies at WUSB. I played and supported many of these artists but never had the releases to show for it. Now’s the time.

I went down the rabbit hole like Atari’s Tempest and rolled through what else they had to offer. The only rule? No titles over $5.00, otherwise everything else under it is fair game. I started at the top and Contrepoison looked familiar to me. I found them through Hospital Records and were distributed via Heartworm press. The I Keep On Searching 12” sold for $1.31 and was a safe bet. I found Consolidated’s self-titled 12” debut and why not? Any industrialist who respects him- / her- / themselves would have them in their library.

One reason why I nabbed the Boulders release was not only because of the price, but it was released by Wharf Cat Records, another Brooklyn institution. Academy sold two more label titles I had no problem buying: David Vassalotti’s Broken Rope 12” and Water From Your Eyes’ Structure disc, the only disc on the order. Had that been All A Dance, I would’ve hit the jackpot.

Academy also sold hip-hop / rap 12” singles, too. Acquired Masta Killa’s “Silverbacks” as I played it during Omega WUSB’s Wu-Tang Clan tribute, and got my hands on Brand Nubian’s “Word Is Bond”.  Only one jazz / fusion title I took on this order was George Benson’s Good King Bad. It didn’t hurt for $4.49. Brick’s “Dusic” b/w “Fun” is a classic and grabbed that as well.

And this was the kicker that locked me in for good: two Chondritic Sound cassettes in JS Aurelius’ Machines Water The Plants Now and Believer/Law’s Matters Of Life And Death for $2.70. To my delight: both cassettes were colored with paint splatter. Those two tapes are the very type of releases I hunt for: underground synthwave and noise acts from New York City. Fucking great.

Total damage after New York state tax (8.625%) and shipping came out to $46.42. Sent in my payment immediately because I take no chances. There happened to be a delay in shipping as Academy Annex had staffers sick of COVID and closed for a week, but the owner was kind enough to message me about the hold up. Totally fine, I said, as people’s health safety is one and all above the shipment. Today on New Year’s Eve, it finally arrived. What a great way to end the new year.

Before reaching for the Boulders record, I had another title in mind. When I met Uniform’s Michael Berdan after the show, I asked him at the merch- table if he did have York Factory Complaint for sale; the noise outfit him and Ryan Martin of Dais Records were a part of. Sadly, he didn’t have any copies on the table but referred me to his friend’s label for them. Good news: Academy’s other second location on East 12th Street in East Village  was selling Lost In The Spectacle for only $5.00. If anyone remembers listening to it, it’s a cold, mechanical, and at times a horrific record. And so starts a second Discogs order where I grabbed Sleaford Mods’ T.C.R. 12”, Nick Klein’s Rhinestone Cowboy 12”, and Vagra’s 8 Tracks Demonstration 2016 - a band I never even heard of until finding it. It’s now on the way because of its’ black-and-white speed punk and d-beat style I go crazy over. That’s another $31.86 I handed over to Academy.

Last year I promised everyone that there’d be another record-store island tour with Rough Trade kicking it off. It never happened. My 2020 tax return was never processed as its’ facilities are only partially opened due to the pandemic and it’s still sitting on the pile as I speak. Now, Rough Trade moved out of Williamsburg and into 30 Rock. They ditched Hannah, Abby and Ilana to hang out with Seinfeld, Carrie Bradshaw, Ross and Chandler because I guess they didn’t want to be associated with those ‘snowflake activist hipsters’. But I like hipsters. I’m one myself. Looks like my money’s going to Academy should I shop for music in Brooklyn once again.

Contrepoison: I Keep On Searching 12"

Brick: "Dusic" b/w "Fun" 12"

Brand Nubian: "Word Is Bond" 12"

Boulders: Rock N Roll Will Never Die 12:

George Benson: "Good King Bad 12"

David Vassalotti: Broken Rope 12"

Masta Killa: "Old Man" b/w "Silverbacks" 12"

Consolidated: Consolidated! 12"

JS Aurelius: Machines Water The Plants Now CS

Believer/Law: Matters Of Life And Death CS

Water From Your Eyes: Structure CD

York Factory Complaint: Lost In The Spectacle 12″

Sleaford Mods: T.C.R. 12″

Vagra: 8 Tracks Demonstration 2016 12″

Nick Klein Rhinestone Cowboy 12”

[kermitthequeer]

review: Color Rush

Disclaimer: This is my very own humble opinion. If you  agree with my review, I’m glad that I’ve found someone like-minded, if  you do not agree, that’s fine too. Every opinion is valid. Don’t hate me  for mine.

I do not speak any asian language and therefore I rely solely on subtitles. And we all know that they are not always flawless. So if I misread a situation or misunderstand something, feel free to inform me. Spoilers ahead!

Genre: BL

From: Korea

Known Actors:  /

Trigger Warnings: obsession, death, attempted suicide

Rating: 7.5/10 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐☆ ☆    

Synopsis: Yeon Woo knows the world is full of colors but he has never seen them for himself, he’s only able see the world in shades of grey. At least until the day Yoo Han comes crashing into his world. And it turns out that they are mono and probe. Means that Yeon Woo is able to see colors, everytime Yoo Han takes off his mask. While all this is going on, his aunt Yi Rang searches desperately for her sister who went missing years ago.

Main Character(s): Choi Yeon Woo, Go Yoo Han

Side Character(s):  Jung Joo Haeng, Kim Min Jae, Yoo Yi Rang

Short Appereance: Yeon Woo’s mother & father, the school nurse

Main Couple(s): YeonWooxYooHan

Side Couple(s): /

My review:

I went into this show trying to keep my expectations low - well as low as I can keep them. This was my third korean BL, before that I watched Where Your Eyes Linger and Mr. Heart and I liked both of them. Oh boy, I wasn’t ready for the rabbit hole I was going down.

I always try to remain a somewhat objective side in my reviews, so that everyone can enjoy it, no matter if they actually liked the show or not. I will try my best to do it with this BL as well, but just know that it’s not easy for me. The last few days were a wild ride and thanks to the pandemic and the semi-lockdown that we have for weeks now, I am in no good place to get emotionally attached to characters or series. But here I am.

In this review there will be a few terms that some may not know or understand and before I have to repeat myself, here a little definition:

Mono: A mono, is a person that isn’t able to see colors, even though they have everything they needed to. Their brain just can’t decipher them for some reason. Only, when they look at the face of a special someone called “probe” they are able to see colors.

Probe: A probe is a person which can see all colors and by looking at their mono, with their whole face uncovered the monos can see colors.

Color Rush: It’s something the mono experiences every time, he looks at his probe. The frist few times are pretty heavy and the mono mostly faints, but at a while the effects wear off.

Decolorating: After some time (e.g. the mono isn’t looking at the face of the probe anymore, they seperate) they begin to lose the ability to see colors again. It depends on different factors (e.g. how many colors rushes did you have, how close are you with your probe, etc.) The more you “get used to” your probe the longer you can see colors.

Anyway, let’s begin.

Yeon Woo and Yoo Han

In the beginning of this story our main character, Yeon Woo, explains his view on this whole mono/probe thing. He himself is a mono and his mother was also a mono. The chance for a mono to meet his probe is extremely rare and most don’t think that they will ever meet their probe at all - and so does Yeon Woo.

The problem with the whole mono/probe thing is that many monos are getting really often obsessed with their probe and the colors that they are able to see. The fear of losing them is driving them insane and therefore some monos kidnap, hurt and kill their probe.

Yeon Woo stance to that: A mono should never meet his probe.

After beating up some guy who made fun of Yeon Woo for being a mono, he has to transfer schools again. On his way there he explains that he can actually see different shades of grey and that his mother teached him the ten differenct shades of the grey color palette.

Introduction of orange hoddie guy. He slept on his desk but now he wakes up (the teacher’s don’t even care to wake him up anymore, love that). And after he introduces himself as Yoo Han, he wants to make very clear (perhaps too clear) that Yeon Woo is “really pretty”.

He even gets up from his chair and follows Yeon Woo across the room, to tell him that again. In case he forgot over the course of a few minutes. But hey, we all need a friend who constantly reminds us that we are enough and beautiful, go Yoo Han!

Anyways, Yeon Woo is minding his own business and stares at a poster and after Yoo Han once again admired Yeon Woo’s beauty, Yoo Han takes of his mask, that he was wearing for some reason (Joo Haeng said that he tried to make it a new trend or smth).

We don’t know why he took it off. If he had trouble breathing, if he wanted to prove to Yeon Woo that he was also stunningly handsome or if he just felt like it.

And that’s when Yeon Woo experiences his first color rush. Overwhelmed by the it he faints. And for some reason, Yoo Han seems not scared at all but excited to be part of this adventure. And after taking Yeon Woo to the school nurse, he says something along the lines of: Oh his eyes are closed but his eyes are moving, that means that he is experiencing a color rush.

And the nurse, that probably doesn’t get paid enough, repsonds with: Yeah, maybe. I dunno, it’s my first time seeing this. Let me know if he rips out his eyeballs or dies or smth. I gotta go get some stuff. Bye.

Yeon Woo opens his eyes and is amazed by the colors that he is able to see. But loses the ability pretty quickly. And Yoo Han declares - in case Yeon Woo might have missed it - that he is in fact Yeon Woo’s probe.

Of course, Yeon Woo is really sad that he is back to the grey-ish palette of life again, but he stays strong and says that he does not want to do this again. He reminds Yoo Han that being a mono/probe is all fun and games until the mono get’s obsessed. Like, monos have kidnapped and killed their probes and apparently ate their flesh?

But Yoo Han couldn’t be more unbothered by that. And I don’t know if I should be impressed or worried because of that. After Yeon Woo explains his concerns to Yoo Han, the guy’s like: Ah.

Yoo Han is not only immune to fear and common sense, he is also very headstrong and is determent to teach Yeon Woo the colors. The question we all have in mind probably is:

Why is Yoo Han so eager to continue this dangerous relationship?

Well we get a great answer to that from Yoo Han himself: He likes Yeon Woo’s eye moevement while he experiences a color rush, so...yeah.

Great reason, let’s move on.

The next day of school, Yoo Han got a color palette to show Yeon Woo and to teach him the different colors. But since Yeon Woo doesn’t want to do a color rush again he pretents that he isn’t interested. Yeon Woo has enough of Yoo Han constantly being all up his ass with all this color rush thing, so he tries to leave. But Yoo Han tricks him. After Yoo Han recognizes that Yeon Woo isn’t giving in, he takes off his mask. Yeon Woo faints and wakes up in the nursing room.

This time, the nurse isn’t there. it’s probably her break or something. Before Yeon Woo can get really upset about Yoo Han’s trick, he sees the colors palette and all the colors on it. And the desire in him grows. But decolorating happens only a few seconds later.

And there’s where we see the first glance of desperation of Yeon Woo. He demands that Yoo Han takes off his mask, so he can see the colors again, but Yoo Han is a smart business man and so he wants something in return. He’s like: That was the preview, the free trial is over. From no on, you gotta pay.

And since Yeon Woo isn’t giving in, their ways part. And the story ends...if Yoo Han would actually respect boundaries. But he doesn’t so here we go.

Yoo Han tries again to lure Yeon Woo into agreeing to his deal. He shows him with the power of science and prism a rainbow and the nightview.

No matter how hard Yeon Woo tries to stay away from Yoo Han, Yoo Han pulls him back in.

Yoo Han says that this the last time, that he will give Yeon Woo a color rush for free. And Yeon Woo agrees, thinking that this will be his last time before telling Yoo Han that he will end this for good.

As the colors seem to fade away again, the desperation creeps up on Yeon Woo once again. He asks Yoo Han what he wants in return to keep doing this. And as we all know he wants to look at his face.

And to our big surprise, Yeon Woo finally agrees to Yoo Han’s deal. The next day, Yeon Woo regrets what he did, just like someone who drunk too much last night. He considers to avoid Yoo Han, but we all know how that works out.

So, Yoo Han has the great idea to scare Yeon Woo, by jumping in front of him and scream, which results in Yoo Han getting accidentally punched by Yeon Woo. They go the the nursing room and at that point I ask myself how they are doing in school, since they never seem to attend classes.

The nurse is probably still on her break or she just quit, who knows. We get the classic “I’ll treat your wound” scene. The inevitable happens, and after putting a little too much pressure on Yoo Han’s wound, Yoo Han flinches and the mask slides off his face. Another color rush.

Yeon Woo wakes up but can’t remember anything. Yoo Han explains that Yeon Woo cried his eyes out, but didn’t seem concious.

Yeon Woo apparently said that he needed the colors to see the headband (of his mother who disappeared and apparently wore the headband that day).The nurse comes in and seems not too happy about the fact that these two visit her at least once a week.

She says that this was totally normal and one of the phases a mono went through, while adjusting to one’s probe. The color rush would extend and he would not be able to remember afterwards. In that way his subconcious could surface.

And while Yeon Woo’s feelings are still all over the place, Yoo Han has set his priorities straight: So that he get’s used to the color rushes is a good sign, right?

Like, your man is sitting there crying his eyes out and you think about him adjusting to you? Dude, at least pretend that you care about his inner turmoil.

The nurse keeps up a professional facade and adds as polite as she can be: Don’t do it at school for the time being. Which basically translates to: Can you two give me a break for once? I haven’t worked this hard since 1986 and I’m 29.

On their way out, Yoo Han says: I’m happy that you are adjusting to it. Like he just wasn’t right next to Yeon Woo weeping like someone would rip his heart out. That’s when Yoo Han remembers that he has a heart and should use it once in a while and he adds: You scared me a little back there.

Yeah, me too, buddy. Me too.

While Yoo Han tries to have this converstaion, Yeon Woo is caught up in his thoughts. And I mean he has all reason to be upset. He is scared of what will come next. What if he get’s used to his probe and the colors? What comes after that? Obsession...kidnapping?

Because Yeon Woo hasn’t said anything, Yoo Han is scared that he might has forgotten how pretty he is, so Yoo Han has to remind him again. We love a supportive probe. But for real Yoo Han, we got it the first three times, I think he knows by now.

Yoo Han doesn’t think about any of this “obsession”-stuff at all, so he doesn’t get why Yeon Woo isn’t so thrilled about the whole thing. Outside, Yoo Han cuddles Yeon Woo from behind and says that he was actually worried earlier and they have to wait here because it’s raining.

We never get an explanation why that’s a problem. Maybe he forgot his umbrella and doesn’t want to get wet or wait there all on his own? Or Yoo Han hopes that he can show him a real rainbow this time? But wouldn’t it be a little careless to do another color rush shortly after what had happened?

Yeon Woo is again caught up in his thoughts. And we can feel how much he suffers already: [...] But when I felt a moment of happiness, I saw the happiness draining out from my view. Loss. Only having moments of happiness...that leave me all alone in a land of grey...terrifies me.

Long story short, Yeon Woo tries to run away, and after Yoo Han stops him and asks why he did that, he says: Because it just crossed my mind that I want to keep you forever.

HUGE RED FLAG my guy! Yoo Han RUN!

This might have been cute in other shows and all...because we tend to romantacize this “I can’t live without you” and “I never wat to lose you”...but we all know that it isn’t meant in a cute way. He wants to keep him. You know, like you would keep an object. A refrigerator or something like that. Not a human being.

The following day, Yoo Han is not in school and you got me there. I was really thinking that maybe my boy here would finally take a hint and leave. Yeon Woo thinks that it’s because of what he said to him yesterday, which would make sense. But we all know Yoo Han, with his death wish that he probably has and the distance that he keeps from comon sense.

So, of course he isn’t avoiding school, becaue his mono - that told him mulitple times that monos get obsessive and kidnap their probes - just now told him that he wanted to keep him. And it seems that Yoo Han is really wearing rose-colored glasses, because he isn’t able to see the red flags. Or maybe he has his own reasons why he wants to be near him...(yes I’m blatantly forshadowing here).

He later texts Yeon Woo and they make a trip to “have fun with colors”. This is the first time Yeon Woo doesn’t faint, while experiencing a color rush and they goof around and hold hands and are cute together. And Yeon Woo is thinking that he would want to keep these colors and the happy feeling forever, even if that would mean that he would have to hurt Yoo Han...true love right there, people.

Alas, this trip ends and Yeon Woo returns to his tense state, worrying that he might get more and more attached to his probe. He thanks Yoo Han for this trip and wants to go, but Yoo Han isn’t ready to let him go just yet.

So, they both return to Yeon Woo’s house, thinking that the aunt is still on her “business trip”. Shortly before Yeon Woo’s father died, he painted a picture of his mother, but he never got a “real” look at it with all its colors. Yoo Han agrees to help him see the picture with “all its colors”. After a brief breakdown and Yoo Han reassuring him that he is by his side and he will be the key to his colors, the door opens. Turns out the aunt is back! You didn’t see that coming, did you?

Yeon Woo and Yoo Han try their best to keep their mono/probe status a secret. And they are as good in hiding a secret as kids are, when they give you a totally normal drink that they definitely didn’t fill with salt or dirt or something and can’t stop giggling and begging you to take a big sip.

Yeon Woo tries to act normal, even though he sees his aunt in “full color” for the first time. And Yoo Han is over there smililing like: yep, I know exactly what’s going on right now, you can thank me later.

Yeon Woo walks Yoo Han to the bus station. On their way Yeon Woo is happy to let Yoo Han know that he can still see the colors. And Yoo Han gets all excited like: OMG! That means that your feelings for me let you slowly accept it. And Yeon Woo is like: Yeah, no definitely not. Feelings for you??

They arrive at the bus station and Yoo Han has to flex with his kind of impressive knowledge about colors.  After Yoo Han entered the bus, Yeon Woo’s decolerating.

Yeon Woo is again, desperately trying to cling onto the colors and has a minor breakdown. Thinking that without Yoo Han life is empty and lifeless and he’s just feels like an empty shell. And I’m here like...dude the ship is about to sail, get on board and leave as long as you can! You are already obsessed with him, please!

As he returns back to his aunt, she let’s him know that she ain’t stupid and knows that Yoo Han is his probe. Isn’t that obvious? The whole school probably knows already. I mean, look at them.

The aunt got all the brain cells and she’s like: You have to transfer schools and we have to move. Finally an adult being an adult and doing wise and good things. But oh no, it’s too late and Yeon Woo is determent to stay: “I will try my best to handle it. I’m different I’m not like other monos.” I can resist and rise above the urge.”

Huh..my dear, are we just pretending like you weren’t breaking down, because your life felt lifeless without him and you already think about keeping him? And now you are sitting there pretending you are all high and mighty and “different?” while you are obsession over the guy you met like a week ago? Lying to her saying that you can handle it and will rise above the urge, while you had a breakdown just FIVE MINUTES AGO? Mmk...

And the aunt is continuing asking the real questions: Are you not aware of the loss you’ll experience? How can you possibly handle that? And I’m like: YES! Please, help them! Go get him! But alas, my hopes crashed, because Yeon Woo starts to cry and no one can be mad at Yeon Woo when he cries. And so his aunt’s like: K, we stay.

And so these wise words were sadly too late. Yeon Woo is already in too deep. The next time he is in school, Yoo Han is not there. And he switched to full obsession mode. With a concerningly calmy voice he asks his friends: What if I kidnap Yoo Han? Like it was something totally normal to ask.

Joo Haeng tries to make this situation less weird and says: Hah..ha.. I mean, if you would kidnap him he probably would lock the door himself.

His other friend, Min Jae totally looks through this “jokes” and says: Do you really want to become a monster? That’s when Joo Haeng seems to understand that this wasn’t a joke at all. And his expression changes and you could slowly see the realisation:.haha..that’s a weird joke to make..okay..no one’s laughing..wait..you were joking right?

Yeon Woo falls more and more into the dark rabbit whole and buys a bunch off stuff that you would totally need to kidnap someone, but the seller is like: Teenagers these days. Guess, I’m minding my own business. Which I always aprove, but not in this case! Dude you live in a world with monos who go insane and kidnap their probes and you don’t wanna maybe...inform some authorities? Check his ID or call the police? Anything? No?

Espacially with so many cases popping up shouldn’t monos get asigned some therapist or counselor or someone who keeps an eye on them?

While Yeon Woo is researching how to tie a rope, his aunt comes in and asks him, if he is okay. Sweety, I love you, but he is CLEARLY NOT OKAY! She says that she can feel that something’s off. He reminds her off his mother, shortly before she brought home his father. Yeon Woo reassures her that he’s fine and not up to anything. And she just...  leaves.

Yoo Han returns to school because he missed Yeon Woo - probably the way Yeon Woo stares at him. Yoo Han notices the mark on Yeon Woo’s wrist (he tried to tie the rope around his wrist to learn it) and get’s worried. But not about himself, of course. Because why would you?

And Yeon Woo’s like: I wonder how this mark seems to him. Well I’m telling you, if he isn’t running away now, don’t worry too much about Yoo Han, because I think that he really has a death wish. He would probably tie his own rope, if you ask him nicely.

Yeon Woo reminds us that he was right all along. A mono and a probe shouldn’t meet. A mono will only hurt his probe, because he doesn’t want to lose, what the probe can show him.

So, yeah. What’s the lesson here, kids? When someone tells you that they are “not good for you” or “dangerous”, believe them. Because they are.

Despite Yeon Woo’s assumptions, Yoo Han can’t read minds and that’s why he has no clue what’s going on. Instead, he lists the different shades of brown. And oh boy did this show teach me about all the different shades of colors I didn’t know existed.

Yeon Woo is seemingly melting. The two look at a picture that Yeon Woo painted of his mother in grey colors. They talk a little about how Yeon Woo sees the world, when Yoo Han isn’t there.

Despite standing so close to his probe, Yeon Woo decolerates. This catches him totally off guard and he runs away. At home, he rambles on about how he becomes a monster and that this monster is coming for Yoo Han. And that there is only one way to keep Yoo Han safe. And he uses the rope and tries to hang himself.

He wakes up in a hospital. His aunt is with him and tells him that he was out for ten days. She adds, that she knew that something was up and what he was planing. Mmhm, yeah of course. That’s what I always say when I pretend that I saw a plot twist coming. I know your game Yi Rang.

The house is back on the market and no one knows where he is (well besides the two of them ig). We follow him for an unclear amount of time. He takes pills that are supposed to help him.

Even though Yeon Woo is sad that this means goodbye Yoo Han, he accepts it, thinking that this was the only way that things could get back to normal again. What a selfless man. Putting the well being of his love before his own happiness (well it’s also better for his sanity tbh).

And that’s how it all en- Oh, right. Yoo Han is not selfless and he doesn’t care about his own well being. That’s why one night, after Yeon Woo overanalyses his current situation, someone is standing outside of his window. And surprise: It’s Yoo Han.

He climbs through the window with such grace that I thought that this might be a dream. And Yeon Woo probably felt the same, because he says that this can’t be real and that this is probably only another hallucination. But Yoo Han takes off his mask to show him, that he’s real. He is here to rescue him..from the hospital, I guess. After Yeon Woo changed, they both run to a bus station and drive off into happiness aka to the ocean.

They are planning to go to the beach, because Yoo Han wants to show Yeon Woo the real color of the ocean, but they have to stay at a hotel overnight. While Yoo Han has to sleep on the floor, he opens a little bit up about why he is here and what happened.

And what basically happened is: Yeon Woo disappeared and because he didn’t want to lose him, this was the only solution he had in mind.

The next day they both chill at the beach and it’s time for Yoo Han to show off his color-knowledge again. So he lists all the different shades of blue - well the shades he can recall. And Yoo Han says that he memorizes them and the thought of Yeon Woo would make it easier for him to do it. What a man, honestly. Like, I struggle lately with studying and concentrating and seeing him putting up with all that work for, so he can pretend that he is the master of the color-universe for two minutes or less. That’s determination.

Yeon Woo calls his aunt to make sure that she doesn’t die of a heart attack, after her nephew also disappeared and the aunt says that Yoo Han has a really powerful family and that they will press charges against Yeon Woo for kidnapping Yoo Han, if they don’t come back. Yeon Woo is upset that Yoo Han’s parents are pressing charges against something he didn’t do (well I mean he probably did it multiple times in his head).

Yoo Han FINALLY tells him the whole truth. That he is no longer interested in becoming an idol and prefers to study and (more importantly) he tells him the REAL reason why he was so eager to have Yeon Woo around him.

And get ready you guys because this will blow your minds: He isn’t able to recognize faces. Faceblindness. BUT he is ablte to see Yeon Woo’s face. Which was the reason that he was so drawn to him. Everytime they would seperate, he wouldn’t be able to remember it. Only, when he saw him in front of him (espacially when he experienced a color rush) he was able to see it.

Just imagine how lucky they are? I mean, just imagine you can’t see faces and one day you can. But only one face and this one face belongs to Yeon Woo who is just gorgeous and has a beautiful and kind soul. It could’ve been any face that he was able to see. Same goes for Yeon Woo. His probe could’ve been anyone. To be this lucky just once in life..

Yeon Woo still worries that he might get even more obsessed over time and that he might harm Yoo Han one day. But Yoo Han is like: Dude, don’t you realize how super special we are? I can only see your face and you can only see colors with my face. I don’t care. I can see your face. You can see colors. We like each other.

And so they kiss and become boyfriends and return home.

A little time jump. Yeon Woo is preparing some food for Yoo Han and talks to his aunt who is not a fan of all of this but she supports him anyways. In school Yoo Han is talking to Min Jae who is giving him the code to the rooftop door of the school, so Yeon Woo and Yoo Han can have a little date. And everything is back to normal. The mother is still missing, Joo Haeng is still treated like the  least favorite child by Yoo Han. And Yeon Woo and Yoo Han still don’t attend classes.

Min Jae and Joo Haeng

Apparently Joo Haeng and Yoo Han are childhood best friends, even though Yoo Han seems to have a different definition of friends than I do. Yeon Woo meets the guys on his first day at school.

They are helping him, when he experiences a color rush. Min Jae is able to speak to his dead grandpa and gets visions form time to time. And the fact that Min Jae was able to predict the death of two students is just quickly talked about.

While Yeon Woo and Yoo Han have their moments we sometimes see Joo Haeng and Min Jae had their little “look at them being all cute and in love together” moments.

The aunt

Most of the time the aunt is away for “business trips” and Yeon Woo explains to us that she is actually looking for her sister. We never find out if she actually finds clues or why she is looking for her on an island.

Yeon Woo has many chances to tell his aunt that he has met his mono, but every time he chooses not to. Eventually she finds it out herself, after looking at Yeon Woo and Yoo Han for five minutes. And I mean, that was relatable.

When she walked in on Yeon Woo doing suspicous stuff, the only thing she says it: Don’t do anything stupid. Because that ever prevented something stupid from happening. Ma´am, if you think that he might be up to something stupid and you feel the need to point out that he shouldn’t do anything stupid why don’t you keep an eye on him???

In the end she is still a little careful about her nephew and the probe, but she accepts them being boyfriends, I guess.

Things I disliked

This show was wild ride. I even considered droping it, because I was not in the right mental state to watch a bad ending. But I made it through and I’m happy that I did. I love this show. But you know me. Nothing’s perfect.

Better built up to the drama. Even though the built up was pretty good, it would’ve been way better, if it did include the side characters more. So that the side characters could actually play an important/active role in this. Like the random nurse who was only there for exposition and only appeared when it was convenient, she could’ve seen Yeon Woo being all obsessed and talk to him or Yoo Han about it. And I mean, Min Jae was able to see visions and knew so much. He could’ve talked to Yoo Han about Yeon Woo “joking” that he would kidnap Yoo Han.

Too much plot for too little time. Most BL Kdramas have about the same length as a movie (circa 80 min.) which seems much, but really isn’t, compared to straigth Kdrama and the fact that it’s a series not a movie. It is espacially not enough, when you look at the heaviness of the plot. If you have a lighthearted and fluffy show, you don’t need to go too much into depth and make a 200 min. drama out of it. But Color Rush deals with so many heavy topics (obsession, suicide, loss). And the series is suffering because of that (so many questions left unanswered).

Like, the obvious one is that the mystery about the mother’s disappearence is never actually a plotline. The aunt runs off looking for her and Yeon Woo is sad because she’s gone but that’s it. I watched this show so many times and the more I watch it, the more questions I have... Did the mother also plan to kidnap the father? But they fell in love and got married before she could go psycho on him? Did she kill him? Is that why the mother disappeared? Did she run away because she just couldn’t live without him after he allegedly died?

And also an important questions: Why the hell, was Yoo Han so styled up in the last two episodes? He arrived with his hair styled and all dressed up like he just finished a photoshooting. Was that what was happening? Was that related to him being an idol trainee? Or was that the teenager in him trying to dress up for Yeon Woo like “well I don’t know if he is actually there but we haven’t seen in two weeks, so I gotta look breathtaking, you never know when you are going to meet the love of your life”. This is one of the questions that keep me up at night. I. Need. Answers.

I am dying to know the answer to these questions, but we have simply not enough information to guess what could’ve happened.

So yeah, they definitely have a time problem, which isn’t that uncommon for Korean BLs. Don’t get me wrong. A short serie can still be good, if it can carry the plot. It shouldn’t be too big or too heavy. But I will always prefer series that have 30+ min. per episode simply because as soon as I am invested in the episode it’s already over. Ten or fifteen minutes aren’t enough most of the time.

The ending seemed rushed, too. So many things were left unresolved. Like, Yeon Woo is still dangerous and even says that he only get’s more obsessed every day. And suddenly the parents and the aunt are totally okay that Yeon Woo and Yoo Han are together and hang out, even though they were so against it a few minutes ago. Something that could’ve been solved over time with more episodes and time.

More scenes that establish the characters and the friendship. In a short series it’s important that every scene drives the plot forward or at least establishes something important. That’s why Where Your Eyes Linger worked so well, the mains already knew each other, so you could immediately start with the plot and you didn’t need to waste time for them to meet and fall in love.

There is no room for filler or anything like that. I wish we would’ve seen more scenes with the whole friend group (all of them present) and more between Yoo Han and Yeon Woo without the color rush. Let them hang out afterwards to let them bond more. Because Yeon Woo says this very poetic thing at the end of the series: Am I obsessed with you becaue you are my probe, or am I obsessed with my probe because it’s you.

And as poetic as this sounds, it throws me off a little, since Yeon Woo and Yoo Han haven’t spent much time together to really get to know each other the answer that Yeon Woo is only obsessed with Yoo Han because of the mono/probe thing seems more believeable. The “am I obsessed with my probe because it’s you” implies that Yoo Han is special and means much to him as a person and that’s why Yeon Woo just HAs to fall for him. But they rarely spent time together that doesn’t focus on the color rush and the mono/probe part.

But then again, maybe it’s a choice to show that Yeon Woo isn’t aware that he and Yoo Han could be more than mono/probe? And that makes Yeon Woo think that he has no chance but to kidnap Yoo Han to be near him. Like, looking back, Yeon Woo never thought about it. His mother and his father (mono and probe) married, but him being in a relationship with Yoo Han still didn’t cross his mind once. He was like: We can’t see each other every day and went straight to well i don’t want to ever lose you so I gotta kidnap you.

Show more struggle. This show deals so much with internal struggle of Yeon Woo who realizes that he slowly get’s obsessed with his probe. And even though I really liked how they showed his struggle internally and externally to some extend, I wish they would’ve done more with that. I want him to have the rope ready in his backpack but not giving in to the to the urge. I want him daydreaming about kidnapping Yoo Han and really having a plan in mind.

No warning. Another thing that sort of bugged me a little was that Yeon Woo didn’t warn Yoo Han after the beginning. Just one scene were he’s like: “Dude, don’t you get it. I can’t be without you. I think about you constantly and the fear of losing the colors- of losing you is driving me insane. You need to keep your distance from now on. I can’t gurantee you that you will be safe with me and I can’t promise that I can actually resist the urge anymore.”

And then you could either seperate them or Yoo Han says smth like: “I know that feeling, I also think about you constantly and I miss you” and this just turns into a big miscomunnication/love confession-thing. Because Yoo Han really understands the feeling, since he is kind of obsessed with Yeon Woo too (because of his faceblindsness and the fact that he can only see Yeon Woo’s face) and Yeon Woo thinks that Yoo Han is not getting it and it’s a love declaration but it’s not - well it is but you get the drill.

Or, as I addressed earlier, Min Jae playing a bigger role and telling his friend that Yeon Woo is slowly going insane and thinks about kidknapping him.

And if all that doesn’t work out for some reason or it’s just...too much effort  make a parallel to the one scene between the talk of Yeon Woo and his aunt at the beginning: The aunt finds the stuff that Yeon Woo baught (or she just connects the dots sooner) and she wants to talk to him. “How can you handle it?” and this time Yeon Woo says “I don’t know what to do. I thought I could handle it, but I can’t.” and they work together to make a plan. And you can still have him go to the hospital and Yoo Han coming to the rescue.

All the time, I keep asking myself, why apparently no one felt the need to inform his aunt or maybe the probe about the situation? “Hey Yoo Han, Yeon Woo was really weird today. Talked about kidnapping you, please be careful.”

Like, I watch so many BL’s and at some point the parents or the ex-girlfriend or SOMEONE is always getting involved and tries to tear the couple apart. And for once, I would be okay with this plot device of the friends being cockblocks or the aunt threatening Yoo Han to stay away from Yeon Woo ESPACIALLY IF IT’S FOR HIS OWN GOOD DAMN SAFETY! But no.

That’s all the friends needed to do. You had one job, guys, one job.

Things I liked

The music. A banger. Listen to it on Spotify almost every day. Korean BLs just have on of the best music.

The chemistry. In a short series (espacially with short episodes) a good chemistry is fundamental so we can bond faster with the characters and the relationships. And in this show where the two leads are getting obsessed over each other, so here it’s espacially important so we can feel their deep desire for each other, if you want to call it that.

Yoo Han seemed a little emotionless and stiff at times, but IIRC he’s supposed to have a hard time with all these emotions, espacially with facial expressions, which makes sense.

The rainbow scene. One of my favorite scenes by far.

the handholding. We all know that it’s about the hands with the gays. It’s all about the hands.

the colors, the hole scene looked so beautiful shot with the dark background and the blue shirt of Yoo Han and the freaking rainbow.

Yeon Woo having fun, which is a rarity in this show.

We get another glimps of how fast Yeon Woo can go from uwu to -.-. The way he smashes Yoo Han against the wall...

The display of the power dynamic and how both of them try to get the upper hand. And looking back this scene shows that Yoo Han tries to contorl his own obsession by luring Yeon Woo into accepting the deal.

The iconic lines: The colors in this world are yours to enjoy...only when I let you see them. Which was an asshole move - but dare I say it - ...kinda savage.

The storyline. Loved it. Great idea. I want more of it. I’m a sucker for soulmates. I know some think that this series was problematic and had bad writing and I respect that, but I have to disagree. Sure, it’s not perfect and definitely not a masterpiece. But it’s good, imo. The forshadowing of Yoo Han and how he from day one was so facinated by Yeon Woo and his face, that nothing could bring him to his senses to freaking run. It was cute, fun and exciting to watch. I wouldn’t mind a second season to wind up some loose ends.

The beautiful editing. I loved the editing in this one! No unecessary slapstick sounds. No unecessary music that would play randomly. Just the color rush that showed you not only what Yeon Woo was seeing, but helped you to get a deeper understanding in what was going on. It was also used to help you relate to his situation more.

The power dynamic. In this show there is a constant power change. In the begining you think that a probe should be the one with power, right? Since they have the power to let their mono see colors and take them away from them. The monos want something from them and that gives them power. Probe > Mono

But you learn that monos get obsessed and can be extremely dangerous and therefore many probes should run from their mono. Giving the power to the monos. Mono > Probe

In this series, it at first seems like Yoo Han (the probe) holds the power since he is constantly trying to be around Yeon Woo and demostrates his power (the rainbow scene). Probe > Mono

But the more episodes you watch, you realize that Yeon Woo gets more and more obsessed, means that he is dangerous. He could hurt Yoo Han any time. So it seems that Yeon Woo was in power all along. Mono > Probe

BUT in the last episode Yoo Han explains that he can only see Yeon Woo’s face and as soon as they seperate he forgets his face. This would further proof that Yeon Woo has the upper hand here. BUT the thing is, they are sort of equals here. Yeon Woo has the “power” to let Yoo Han see his face and taking it away his face from Yoo Han. This means that in some way both hold kind of some power in their relationship making it somewhat equal, which is important. Yeon Woo = Yoo Han

And I think that’s beautiful. A relationship needs to consist of two equals. It can’t be healthy if one is always the one in charge and the other has no say in things.

The Color-Talks. I read a few post complaining that the series was wasting time by talking too much about colors. And I can kinda agree that it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but in this show they did it for a reason. They could’ve cut it out, but it was important. The series is called Color Rush (look at the name, read it again, think about it, reread it, take it in and exhale it and now look in the mirror and answer the question: What is this show about?). Take I Told Sunset About You they also talk a lot about the chinese letters and what they mean and how you write them, would you consider that a waste of time? Maybe, but it’s not.

I’m actually glad that they didn’t cut it out. Just imagine one scene like this: “Oh there are many different shades of brown. There is chocolate, caramel, cinnamon [cut] and the last one is chestnut.” It would not only take away the flow but also feel somewhat half-assed and undermine the importance of this for Yeon Woo, who learns about the colors for the fist time. It means the world to him.

Also that they thought about the ten different shades of grey fits perfectly and seems well thought through. It makes perfect sense that people who are only able to see grey, would try to name the different shades.

It’s about the hands.

And this aren’t all of them. Do I have to say more?

That’s all I have to say about this series. Check out my other reviews.

My BL Review List: https://urmyquerencia.tumblr.com/post/627642344497364992/bl-reviews

- urmyquerencia

[syndianites]

The After; The Athar: Chapter One

Chapter 1/?

Chapter 1 [Here] - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

AO3: This Chapter - Full Fic

Summary: Post Season 2, non-Mianitian Compliant. The crew finally land back into the world after the events of Ruxomar. That should be a good thing, right? But Wag is feeling the burden of everything that has happened to him, and he didn’t even get his magic back to boot.

It’s hard to be happy when life has been so shitty.

Relationships: Sparklington (end-game), Marthlington (temporarily), Sparkanite (Spark x Ianite) (past, mentioned), Motanite

Content Warnings: Death Mentions, Implied Depression, Implied PTSD, Self-Deprecation, Breaking up a Relationship (Marthlington)

AN: I’ve been working on this since September? of 2019! I have 5 chapters done and still going. I wanted to wait to post this until I was done with it, but my impatience has gotten the better of me.

@the-moon-pal I’m coming for your crown king >:)

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They’d made it home a couple weeks ago, to the land of Mianite. It’d been such a relief. They got to meet the rest of the alts, got to watch Dianite meet the other gods- and cringe at the tension that crackled between them- got to find all their homes again. For once, in the past-however-long, there was peace. They could relax.

So why did Wag feel like utter shit?

Right. Because he literally got the worst part of the deal.

He thought his powers would come back when they got home. And they did, for a few hours. Not the full range, but a lot of it. It felt good to be full of magic again. It felt like he was himself.

But then things started to fall apart. Martha grew distant. His powers fell away in fits and bursts. He realized that the rest of FyreUK had moved on after they made amends in Ruxomar. They found their way on. Without him.

Nothing was the same, he realized, as he spent more time around the place they had called ‘home.’

Spark had done what he did best: built a city. Well, more like a village. What had once been a place of buildings thrown about at random and mostly open plains was now sparsely populated. Neatly arranged shops and a few houses took up the space next to the beach. New people had even begun to show up.

Everything was changing around him, yet he was stuck holding onto the past. Holding onto his wizardhood, to his brotherhood, to a partner that was farther now than ever, and- worst of all- he was still holding onto the hope that everything would just… go back. To how it was.

To when he was important.

Well, like fuck is he was going to sit around and loathe his existence. He could at least try to do something. Swear to Athar, he wasn’t going to turn into a lump of depression just because he couldn’t handle change! He’d rather be a walking mass of depression! That way he could at least pretend he was being productive.

Potions or spellbooks? A question as old as time. Potions were a staple in his life. If there was one thing that would never leave him, it was his ability to make fucking potions. Like, fucking make potions. Not potions to help people fuck. On the other hand, the more he poured through spellbooks, the more likely he was to get closer to finding out how to get his powers back.

Maybe his powers left when FyreUK left, taking all the glory of Athar with it. But that was too terrible of a thought, so that got chucked in the ‘not-today-bitch’ bin. Which was a handy dandy mental bin that stored all of his worst problems.

He never could fit himself in it, though.

So potions it was.

Now that he was out of the business of magic, most of his money came from his potion making. He had made yet another little wizard- alchemist? Potion master?- tower. Plopped some advertisements in el Pueblo de Spark and took orders to pass the time. He had to fund his botany experiments somehow.  Someone had to introduce weed into this world, that might as well be him.

If he was going down in history for something, that wasn’t ‘Word Renowned Wizard Extraordinaire’, then ‘The Guy who Made Weed’ would sure as hell work. 

Wag pulled up his log of orders. Luck, luck, dexterity, healing, luck, love- yeah, those didn’t really work but he’d make it anyways-, strength, luck, yadda, yadda, yadda. Lots of luck. He could probably get away with making a batch or two of luck potions, then work through the rest.

He spared a glance outside. Spark’s little hut-square town was beginning to develop into a pleasant little fishing hole. Surprisingly- or not, given how deep the waters were nearby- the place was actually a fairly hot place for single fish to mingle. Warm waters, nice and deep, lots of cover, and not much human interference. Until now, anyway.

Either the fishermen were starting to get a fair amount of revenue going or they really needed help. Luck potions were among his most expensive. The ingredients were hard to acquire regardless of how you made it.

Rabbit’s foot? Morally and physically hard to get a hold of. Rainbow trout? Terribly rare. ‘Star-light Fruit’? Not even confirmed to exist.

His method was a little more straightforward. A butt load of four-leaf clovers, a tiny bit of alcohol, and a fuckton of glitter. Clovers for the magic, glitter for the look, and alcohol for the feeling of being lucky.

It was a very bullshit potion.

It took forever to find the clovers, let alone collect them.

Athar give him strength.

Giving one last look outside, he tucked his log book in his cloak. Then he went and rummaged through his chests.

Monotony here he comes.

~~~

Wag was halfway through his second batch of luck potions when a distant knock came from his door, followed by the sound of bells. If not for the bells he’d have ignored the knocking. With a stretch, he putzed down the stairs. The many flights of stairs.

He missed being able to make elevators.

Opening the door revealed one Mr. Sparklez, hair tousled but otherwise neatly groomed. He was relaxed, if not a little winded from his trek up the hill Wag claimed as his own.

Wag smiled. “Hey Sparklez, what brings you up to my tower of terror today? Here for a chat or a swanky danky potion?”

He gestured for Jordan to head inside and get comfortable, but the man waved him off. “Actually,” Jordan started, “I was wondering if you’d seen Martha? I needed to ask her something and I haven’t seen her all day. Figured she’d be with you.”

Ah, so Jordan wanted to find Martha.

Ouch.

Doing his best to ignore the squeeze in his chest, Wag kept his smile firmly in place. “No, I don’t think I have. She, uh.” He paused, going for a nonchalant shrug. “She doesn’t come around the tower all that often. I’d ask Spark instead. She tends to hang around him more. Her good ole pops and all, y’know. They do have a lot to catch up on.” Wag tried to ignore how weak his words sounded. He didn’t want it to sound weird that Martha wouldn’t come around, but instead he just sounded pathetic.

Great.

Jordan gave Wag an awkward smile, seemingly uncomfortable with the sad display. “Ah, alright. I’ll ask around for Spark.” 

He turned to leave but caught himself before he was fully turned away. Jordan chewed on his words. “Are you-” His eyes swept over Wag. “How have you been? We don’t see you as much anymore. Other than Tom, I guess, but it's hard to get rid of Tom once he decides you’re friends, y’know?”

“I’ve been,” Wag wanted to laugh, but pushed through the sentence, “swell, thank you. I would get out more, but I’m always so busy potion making. Gotta pay the bills somehow.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue. It wasn’t the exact truth, but he did spend a lot of time on potions.

Letting his shoulders settle, Jordan gave a small laugh. “Who would press a wizard to pay bills? Someone who wants to catch on fire, I’m sure.” He opted for a friendly smile. “If you ever want to hang out or something, let me know. I’ve been getting kind of bored between Spark telling me how to be a better champion of Ianite and living in an actual, peaceful society.”

Wag waved after Jordan as he began his descent. Yeah, a wizard. A frown tugged at his face while he shut the door.

A real fucking wizard.

~~~

Making potions was rather methodical. Each step took a certain amount of time, each item had certain effects, meshed certain ways with other items. It was like following a recipe, but with bigger consequences for messing up. Cooler results, though.

Wag had just finished melting down the clovers he’d gathered and extracting the essence- which is to say he lit it on fire after sprinkling a generous amount of blaze powder on it- when Jordan had stopped by. Which was convenient, since he needed to wait for the weird half-liquid half-slime to cool off enough to move it. The awkward potions, glitter, and alcohol were already prepped. Now all he needed to do was mix shit together.

Oh joy.

At the very least, it was satisfying to roll the clover essence into little balls to plop into an awkward potion and then watch them dissolve. The clover gave the essence a natural, healthy green color while the blaze powder, which clung to even the most thoroughly washed slime, gave it something of a yellow highlight. Golden glitter gets dumped in to make it feel like you were about to drink something special. Yes, the glitter was edible. No, most people didn’t realize he put glitter in this shit. Then the alcohol was for that background buzz. It was meant to dull the senses just enough to trick people into believing, wholeheartedly, in whatever god-forsaken abomination he just made.

Sorry. What ever divinely crafted, totally safe potion he’d just made.

Sure, he didn’t test it himself, but it seemed to work well enough for the people he gave it to. So where was the harm?

It was fine.

The next part was perhaps the most boring. And he’d spent all day yesterday crawling on the ground looking for four-leaf clovers.

Tagging and packaging. Writing names on slips of paper, tying them to the potion, putting it in a small, padded box to prevent any breaks. Rinse, repeat. It was annoying, wasted money, all that jazz, but it helped the look. Who wants to be handed a regular old potion, by hand, when you can get it in some majestic looking box to really add some sparkle to your magic?

Maybe Ruxomar rubbed off on him in a bad way.

In any case, the look was important, and by Athar was he going to make it look fucking fantastic.

Unfortunately, this task was also terribly, horribly monotonous. Worse yet, it left room for thinking. And thinking was Wag’s least favorite pastime since floating in the Void. Especially since floating in the Void.

It lead to him thinking deeply about himself and Athar knows that most of his life problems could be traced right back to that. His mistakes, his fuck ups, his shortcomings, all of it came back to him thinking way too hard about himself. 

Gross.

Instead, he tried to run over potion recipes in his mind. Or any recipe, really. All the different ways to make a fire resistance potion when you don’t have magma cream. Counting how many potions used lemongrass. Figuring out what potions would make it more likely to catch fish. Literally anything. As long as it was potions, it was fine.

Not about himself, not about Athar, not about wizards, and not about… Martha.

Yeah, that last one would be a one hit k-o. 

But now that his mind had touched on the subject, it dug in. Sunk it's claws into the delicate stability of his mind. Dramatic, he knows, but that’s how it felt. It was like the more he tried to get the thought out of his mind, the further it burrowed into him. Awful, painful, and not even worth the effort.

Martha… clearly didn’t care about him anymore. Or, well. He winced at the thought. She didn’t love him like she used to. If she, uh. Did in the first place. But this was old news. This was something he pondered after she seemed to avoid him like the plague, seemed to grimace when she looked over and saw him and not him.

Steve.

The name sat heavy in his head. They hadn’t meshed well, ‘specially where Martha was concerned. But they managed, for her, because they loved her.

Wag felt guilty, looking back on it now. For stealing their time together, for messing with their relationship. They hadn’t gotten to be together enough, had lost too much time before-

Yeah, he didn’t like thinking about Steve more than he didn’t like thinking about Martha. Wag didn’t feel like he deserved to think the name, let alone put himself up against his image. Steve was a hero. He rebelled against Helgrind in a cunning, intelligent way, he was selfless in more aspects than any of the heroes that appeared in Ruxomar, and he was the one to sacrifice the most. To sacrifice it all.

Where did Wag stand against that?

Honestly, it was no wonder Martha couldn’t stand to look at him. He was just a reminder of Steve, a reminder that she didn’t have Steve. That she had him instead. 

Had she ever loved him?

That wasn’t the point. The point was that Martha was hurting, trying to pick up the pieces of what she left behind in Ruxomar. What she had lost. And Wag wasn’t doing anything to help. He was stuck up in his tower, making potions, trying to forget about everything that he wasn’t.

He should try to look for her.

But the last time he did, he got turned away. She was “catching up with her father.” She was “busy settling into the new world.” She was “trying to get a grip on her new goddesshood.”

Wag was persistent, but even he could get the hint.

By Athar, he got the hint. “I don’t want to see you.” “Don’t come near me.” “You can’t help me.” 

He wondered if Spark was doing anything to help her or if he was also caught up in everything that had happened. From what he had learned about the man in Ruxomar, he was devoted to his wife. No, he gave everything for his wife. Learning she was dead after working up everything to see her again?

He had played it well. When he heard the news, Spark kept strong, only letting his tears show. If he had gone home later after parting with Martha, who had her own grief and guilt, crumbling on the inside no one would know. And if he had locked himself away and let everything loose, let himself break, none would be the wiser. But they could guess, they could give him a passing glance, a thoughtful frown.

Wag wondered if he still carried that grief around with him.

Spark had taken to trying to discipline Jordan to be a better champion of Ianite. It had made the man uncomfortable with getting told he could be a better follower and all. Or rather, having it implied that he wasn’t the best follower. Spark was stubborn in ‘training’ the champion of Ianite to be a full fledged follower.

Still, Jordan didn’t appreciate the sentiment.

Wag understood. Having the husband of the very goddess you watched die get on your case about being a better follower? When the crushing weight of guilt hadn’t fully let off your shoulders? He wondered if Spark hadn’t taken to coaching Jordan to make himself feel better, to remind himself that he would have kept Ianite safe, that he would have fixed the world before it broke out from under them.

It sounded like torture.

But it helped settle Wag. Call him selfish, but he felt better knowing other people had real problems, real grief, to deal with. Sure, Wag had his hang up with Martha. Yeah, he had his issues with being-a-wizard-yet-not. But he wasn’t as close to neck deep as Spark was. Like Martha was.

He wished belittling his problems made them feel less suffocating.

Martha. Martha was still pushing him away. And he was letting her. What did that say about him? About their relationship?

A sigh heaved out of his chest. It was like someone stuck a large rock right in his rib cage, tucked neatly between his lungs. Hard, heavy, and an all around burden. Potions. He needed to think about potions.

His hands betrayed him with a subtle shake. How many names did he have left to write? How many boxes did he have left to pack? Fuck if he knew. He had to keep counting, to find a way to wrap up all his issues, his panic, his fear, into a nice little package and tuck it away like a forgotten gift.

Athar help me, Wag tried to control his thoughts, I might drive myself insane by the end of the year.

As if on cue, another knock at his door broke his thoughts. He tried not to feel relieved to rush away from his potion packaging. He was fine, cool as a cucumber.

Throwing open the door, he came face to face with his second visitor of the day. Tom.

Tom was standing in front of his door almost uncertainly, like he wasn’t quite sure why or how he got there. He took one sweep over Wag’s unhidden face and a determined, focus look set in on his own.

“We,” Tom looped his arm around Wag’s in a sudden movement, “are going out somewhere. No if’s, and’s, or but’s.” 

Eyebrows shooting up, Wag let himself be dragged from his house with an aborted motion to close the door behind him. He mournfully watched his door stay ajar. Hopefully no one else ventured up the hill today, otherwise he might be down a few potions.

“Why?” Wag turned his attention back to Tom, who was resolute in his intention of pulling Wag away to Athar knows where.

A grin was shot in his direction. “You look like you need to get out of the house. Also, I’m real fuckin’ bored and you’re clearly in need of some company.”

A wry smile snuck on Wag’s face. “Oh lucky me. We should get some tea, live up to our trademark.”

Tom nodded. “Absolutely. Let’s hit town. Fuck it up. Flaunt our hero-ness and get shit faced.”

“Let’s not get shit faced, and especially not get kicked out of town for making a ruckus.” Wag fondly rolled his eyes. “I do quite like living here and it’d be a shame to have to follow you around to make sure you don’t die.”

Tom gave a mocked offended gasp, free hand coming up to his forehead as he leaned away. “How dare you! I’ll have you know I’d never die if I didn’t live in a community. I’m a rogue, don’t you know.” He sniffed. “I can easily hold my own in the dangerous wilds.”

“Without anyone to pester and annoy?”

“I can pester anything!”

Wag bit his lip to stop a laugh. Tom always brought such energy with him. It was refreshing. Maybe he was right, he just needed some company.

He wouldn’t say that to his face, though.

“I suppose so,” Wag continued, “You are rather persistent. I bet you could annoy the sun into setting early.”

“Nah, I’d blow that fucker up instead.” Tom winked, snuggled back up to Wag, effectively trapping his arm. “I still think we should get shit faced. Drink our sorrows into the drain, throw them up another day.” 

Wag mock gagged. “I’d rather keep them down the drain, thank you. Besides, what a waste of alcohol. If I’m drinking, I’m drinking to keep it down. Not!” He quickly cut Tom off, “That I want to go out drinking.” He eyed the sky, giving a disapproving look to Tom when he saw that it was still early afternoon. “No one should be getting drunk before the sun touches the horizon.”

With a pout, Tom leaned into Wag’s side. “Lame. I suppose,” he drew out the word, “we could go get some good old fashioned tea. Call it a pre-game without the game.”

Wag rolled his eyes. He wasn’t looking to out game his issues. That wasn’t a solution. It’d just make him turn into a sad drunk and give him a headache in the morning.

This is why he needed weed back.

But also, he didn’t want to develop another problem. Gotta keep it clean. For now.

Tom still had his own plans, alcohol or no alcohol. “I find when I’m feeling down that doing something batshit stupid makes me feel better. We should go fishing with our bare hands- no, with only our teeth- and no shirt on. Attract ladies and gents to us alike. Are they looking at our finely chiseled chests or our daring courage? Who’s to say.”

“You are far from chiseled my friend. Try soft.” Wag poked Tom in the stomach jokingly. “And who said that I’m feeling down?”

“Hey!” Tom swatted his hand away. “I’ll have you know I’m more ripped than you’ll ever be!” He huffed, squeezing Wag’s arm. They walked in silence for a moment, now upon the town. After wandering the street for a second, Tom spoke again, quieter. “I had this feeling.” Wag eyes him. “It was weird. My gut was telling me to check in on you. And then when you opened the door it was written on your face. Even I’m not dumb enough to miss that.” 

Wag heard the unspoken I was worried carried in Tom’s words. Talk about soft. He squeezed Tom’s arm back. “Oh wow, a gut feeling?” He teased lightly, “I think it was just you missing my magical presence. It is hard to go too long without seeing me.” If only that were true. “But I’m here now, and we can go do something absolutely stupid, just for you.”

They share a smile, a quiet thank you floating between them.

Tom gets a glint in his eyes. “Does this mean we can go catch fish with our bare hands?”

“I suppose so.” Wag drawled. “How else are we going to show off our toned figures?”

That got him a laugh, one concerningly maniacal, and he was dragged between houses.

Yeah, he might regret this.

Tom turned and gave him a smile that was all teeth and no common sense. He paused next to the shore, a little ways off from the docks. Shucking his clothes, one Tom Syndicate stood proudly in his underwear, unconcerned about the effect of sunlight on zombified skin. People gave them a look of distaste.

Oh, he was definitely going to regret this. 

~~~

Soggy was one way to describe how Wag felt. Wet as shit was another. All in all, he was rather pleased with himself and the rather large, shiny fish sitting in his lap. The fish which so happened to be a fair amount larger than Tom’s.

“Oh fuck you.” Tom spluttered around a mouthful of fish, laying down an arm’s length away. He had gathered quite an amount of fish, a solid number for catching something with your mouth alone. None of them were that large. In fact, most were an average, if not slightly below, size.

Wag eyed the pile smugly. He may have only caught two, but damn if he didn’t go big.

“Well, it seems that I’ve caught myself a winner.” He tried not to look too pleased. The look on Tom’s face told him he failed.

Tom scoffed, letting the fish fall to the sandy floor with a wet fwop. “You got lucky! Clearly, quantity wins the game here. Sure, you caught one big, old, dumb motherfucker, but I caught a dozen other dumbass fish! I should get the win.”

“Wasn’t size the goal here?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do.”

Before Tom could fire back, a voice from behind interrupted him. “I think the two fools sitting in their underwear soaked to the bone are both losers.”

Wag tilted his head back to see Tucker standing with his hands in his pockets, back slouched, and an easy smile on his face, standing just where the sand turned to grass. Next to him was one lovely fox lady, Sonja herself, and one Sparkle butt, Jordan.

Nice to see the gang all here.

Tom sat up. “How dare you! I’ll have you know we are the best fishers on the island!”

Tucker raised a single eyebrow. “Really now? Are all the other fishers out at sea today?”

“Well excuse you, Mr. Boner. I’ll have you know we caught all of this,” Tom sweeps his arm across their score. “And I think that’s quite the haul.”

“How long did it take you?”

“Fuck you.”

Tucker snickered, moving closer to poke his foot into Tom’s side. “That’s what I thought.”

Wag, meanwhile, was carefully moving his prize to the side so he could stand up. Brushing the sand off himself, he exchanged a smile with Sonja and a nod with Jordan. Sonja gave him a good natured headshake. “And here I thought you were smarter than this.”

Jordan’s eyes trailed down Wag’s chest before flittering away. “Right down to your boxers? Tom must have gotten you good.”

“Well, I was fairly set on getting a nice cup of tea and walking across the beach, hand in hand like real lovers, but Tom was far more intent to go all macho and catch fish with his mouth alone.” Wag leaned in with a hand against his mouth to give a stage whisper. “Between you and me, I think he’s trying to step up his oral game.” He winked.

Jordan groaned, giving Wag what he thought to be a rather dramatic eye roll. That wasn’t even the worst he had to offer, and he’d given him such an easy setup! Sonja waggled her eyebrows and giggled when Tom butted in. “It’ll never be as good as yours dear.” He batted his eyelashes mock innocently.

The group burst into laughter. Tucker stepped closer, swinging an arm around his vaguely damp shoulders. “Hey, it’s nice to see you out and about man. It’s been a hot second. Almost thought you’d drank the wrong potion and kicked it or something.” 

Wag nodded seriously. “Quite the real possibility. Why, just yesterday I almost drank real glitter! The kind you’re not supposed to eat.”

“Been there,” Sonja added, “I thought I was going to die when I did. Just gave me a very colorful trip to the bathroom.”

Tom grinned as he moved to elbow Jordan in the side. “I bet our good ole Captain here wouldn’t know the difference. How else did he get his namesake, right Mr. Sparkley Butt?”

“Hardy har,” Jordan gave Tom a fondly disgusted look. “The name’s Captain Sparklez, that ‘namesake’ came from you giving me a stupid nickname.”

They fell into more chatter, giving Tom and Wag the time to put their clothes back on, Tom not caring that he was still wet as he put his suit back on, while Wag just slung his cloak over himself. No point in putting pants on over wet underwear.

The group, all now clothed to some extent, began to wander back towards town. Wag was more than content to listen to Tom ramble on. He would get interrupted by Tucker when he said something ‘incredibly stupid’ and, more rarely, by Jordan, who would correct some technical thing that Tom clearly did not give a shit about.

Sonja drifted next to him, giving Wag a conspiratorial smile. “You’re looking mighty fine in just a robe and boxers. Is this the bedroom Wag special? Or is that sans boxers?” 

“The bedroom Wag special is whatever you want it to be.” He winked. “It’s magic all around.”

They exchanged a laugh, falling silent again.

Wag knew that wasn’t what Sonja really wanted to talk about.

She looked back at him, a warm look in her eyes. “It’s nice. To see you out. Been a while, y’know?” Sonja stretched her arms out in front of her. “It really has been a bit since we’ve talked. And since you’ve left the house. But honestly?” Her tail swishes behind her. “I could have made a few more treks up that damn mountain myself.”

Shaking his head, Wag elbowed her side lightly. “It is a fairly tall hill, but I think mountain is a bit of an overstatement.” It was, in fact, a bitch of a climb, but Wag didn’t think it was that bad. He’d put the tower just on the other side of the Glowstone Forest, across from the Priest’s house. (What was it called again? Forest of the Void? Abyss Forest? Obsidian Trees? Yeah, he didn’t know or care). 

Left unsaid was a ‘That’s okay, you don’t have to go out of your way’.

He received an eye roll. “Please, the only trek worse than that is up to where Tucker’s first house was. I was so happy when we moved it down the mountain. Well, into.”

It’s no trouble, her words left hanging, I don’t mind.

Wag huffed. How dare she be considerate. “You know what’s worse than a trek up a mountain? A trek up a mountain to get some rare flower, only to be spited by the universe and have not a single flower growing up there. Honestly, I could use some help from someone so used to climbing mountains.” A smirk pulled at his face. “Or maybe just send someone up there for me.”

We could always hang out when I’m playing master botanist. If you’d like.

Sonja smiled at him, but couldn’t resist getting a dig in. “Aw, did you skip leg day? Have some chicken legs over there? That’s alright, I’m sure someone,” she tilts her head, eyes sweeping past the buildings around them, “would be willing. Get a nice little lackey so you can rest your old bones at home and complain about how the cold makes your joints stiff.” 

“How dare you,” Wag sniffed, hand held up to his heart. “I’ll have you know, my joints are just fine in the cold! Some of us just aren’t made of the cold, little miss fox.”

Sonja, ever so mature, stuck her tongue out at him.

They kept up some conversation, occasionally stopping to listen in to whatever Tom was saying. Wag, for a moment, realized that he had missed this. Missed them. That even though he wanted to avoid all the new things in this world, he’d always have his friends.

A quiet, hopeless voice asked if they’d leave him too.

~~~

There was nothing quite like hiking up a hill, in only your boxers, a little buzzed, during the night time. The pure amount of skeletons that had sniffed around looking for a cheap shot alone was bad enough, but the fact that his legs already hurt from struggling to fish with just his mouth without drowning? Yeah, it felt more like he was climbing up a mountain that was near vertical.

Fuck gravity.

A pit of warmth had settled in his chest a couple hours ago. Whether it was the alcohol that Tucker, of all people, had got the group into drinking or just the effect of being with friends for a while, Wag felt content. Not a common feeling in recent times. It was nice.

Really nice.

Upon reaching his door, his mind scrambled to figure out why it was left slightly open. He shrugged. As long as nothing was missing or stolen, he didn’t really care.

He made his way inside- making sure to actually close the door behind him- and wandered over to the stairs. Ah, his mortal enemy. Between being a wizard way back when and the magic rampant in Ruxomar, he had gotten way too used to avoiding stairs. Now it was a chore to move up and down the tower. But his bed was upstairs and he was not sleeping on the crappy couch he shoved into the lobby for guests or customers again.

So stairs it was.

By the time he got halfway up the stairs, he wanted to quit. Why, in Athar’s name, did he put his room on the third highest level? Stupidity, that’s why. The view was so not worth it.

When he actually made it up to the correct floor, he pushed the door to his room open, chucked his clothes to one side, and collapsed in bed. Now this, this was worth it. Soft, plush, warm, and very much without skeletons.

The less arrows being shot at him the better.

A soft chuckle caught his attention. Or rather, killed the peace he had wrapped around himself mere hours earlier.

He didn’t move. Not because he was scared. No, he knew who was in his room. He just wanted to pretend, for a moment, like this was something he was used to.

Like coming home to his lover being home wouldn’t surprise him.

The bed dipped beside him and his robed and boxer-ed glory. A hand ran through his hair. Wag tried not to tense.

“Seems like you had a good night out.” Her voice was like silk, soft and pleasant on his ears. “Hopefully they didn’t hassle you too much.”

Wag breathed. His chest was tight, emotion punching at his ribs. “Yeah,” he said, “It was nice to have some time with them again.”

All of this felt so forgein, now. To have her here. Was she here? Or did he drink more than he had originally thought. Shit.

Martha scratched his head. “I do have to say, I’m surprised that you actually left the tower. You’ve been holed up here for so long I thought I’d have to drag you out.” He could hear the smile in her voice. Or maybe he was imagining it. His head was a mess and he wasn’t quite sure what he was making up and what was real.

It was kind of pathetic.

He laughed. “Yeah, Tom showed up and dragged me out. Not complaining though, I had a lot of fun. It was nice to take off from work. Making potions gets boring.”

So did sitting in your own depressing thoughts, but that was more exhausting than boring.

“Oh,” Wag turned his head to face Martha, looking up at her. The darkness made her hair stand out. It looked like a halo around her face, bringing out her lovely lilac eyes. She was just as beautiful as the last time he’d seen her. But there was something heavy in her eyes that she tried to wipe away when his own reached her. “Jordan was looking for you earlier. Did he ever find you?”

Martha blinked and the heaviness was gone. Ish. He knew it was there. Somewhere.

“Ah, no.” She frowned. “I’ll have to see what he needs tomorrow.”

He nodded. To be honest, Wag wasn’t convinced Martha was actually sitting here with him. Which was kind of sad. Very sad.

“I can come with, if you’d like,” Wag rushed out, trying not to sound desperate. “We haven’t had much time together, which is understandable with your dad being around and all the stuff you need to do. And, y’know, it’d be nice to walk with you for a bit.”

Oh, he sounded so desperate.

Yikes.

A smile graced Martha’s lips. “Sure, I’d love that.” Wag let out a breath. “We’ll take a stroll, get a nice scenic view of the beach as we go, call it a date-” She cut off. The heaviness came back to her eyes. Wag knew what she was thinking. Who she was thinking about.

It hurt.

“I’m going to go take a shower before getting ready for bed. You can go ahead and sleep, if you’d like. I know you’ve had a long day and you’re probably tired. Don’t force yourself for me.” Martha stood as she said this, fingers trailing in his hair. Then she left.

Reluctantly, Wag got up to do just that. Changed his boxers and hung up his cloak. Buried himself back into bed, under the covers.

Yeah. It’d be a date.

~~~

Martha didn’t like to get up early. Neither did Wag. Normally, this lead to them sleepily cuddling until one felt so inspired as to get up. Normally.

Ever since the group returned to the land of Mianite, Martha didn’t sleep as well. Between nightmares, being a fledgling goddess, and the… absence of certain people, she found herself waking earlier and earlier.

Wag had his fair share of sleep troubles. Where sleep troubles stopped Martha from sleeping as much, it led to Wag sleeping more. The less he slept the more exhausted he was. The more exhausted he was the more he slept. It was a vicious cycle and actually the reason Wag didn’t leave the house as much.

Nonetheless, both found themselves getting ready to leave just after dawn. Martha moved like last night didn’t end awkward and uncomfortable. Bright, cheerful, and painfully affectionate with Wag. Like she hadn’t been avoiding him for the better part of their stay here.

The worst part was that this wasn’t the first time she came back like nothing was wrong. It was almost like she could tell when he was starting to doubt their relationship. Except, he was constantly doubting their relationship. Even when things had been going well. But this time, it was like she knew when he was thinking about how much of a relationship they didn’t have.

Which was concerning if she actually knew what he thought.

Wag, on the other hand, moved like a zombie. Tired, groggy, and barely awake. The picture of early morning beauty. It wasn’t far off from how he used to act, but now it was like someone had chained weights to his feet.

Damn, he was tired as shit.

Martha had set about making some breakfast from the little food he had. Some eggs, some- thankfully not spoiled- fruit, and milk. Wag was pretty sure he didn’t have milk, but he wasn’t going to question it. She was the more magical of the two, now, so it was within reason that she could get milk in the few minutes he’d lagged behind her in getting out of bed.

He, on the other hand, was on the task of making coffee. Coffee was something of a luxury here, since it was so new to the land. It wasn’t grown naturally on the island and Wag wasn’t sure if it was imported from some far off place or if it had been introduced by the earlier dimension hoppers that still hung around. Spark, for sure, seemed to run on the stuff.

That didn’t really matter to Wag, though. He had a plant of it in his garden, for ease of access, but more importantly to see if it could be used to help crossbreed weed into existence. No far off land had procured the plant yet, so he would still strive to be the maker of weed.

Not the best plan in the world, but that wouldn’t matter once he actually made the plant.

He really shouldn’t be encouraging substance abuse.

Surely, coffee would wake him up. Then he could go on a walk with Martha and do that thing they seemed to do where they avoided those topics and pretended like everything was fine. And maybe, just maybe, they’d enjoy the conversation. Maybe they’d feel something again, feel whole for the brief moment where they let themselves forget about the person who was missing, the person that clearly held more place in Martha’s heart for it to have torn so much when he-

Maybe Wag would get his shit together and let things die between them.

Maybe he’d decide that fighting an uphill battle wasn’t worth it.

For now, though, he was content to pretend things were the same. It was better than being entirely, wholly alone. And, deep in his heart, he still loved her. So, so much.

Enough that he knew it would hurt no matter what he did.

They chatted over the food Martha cooked. She complemented his coffee, the beans from the plant he owned, and he told her that the cooking is just as good as it’d always been.

Neither mentioned that it was usually Steve, not either of them, that did the cooking.

They tossed little affections at each other with ease. Like it was second nature. A brush of hands, a quick smile, a peck on the cheek. It was like a dance. As though they were trying to make a show of how much they still cared, how much nothing had changed despite the fact that everything had changed.

Hands loosely held together, they left the house as a unit, holding up a conversation with ease. If either of them tripped up in their speech as they avoided that topic or this word, neither called each other out for it. For all that everything was off and wrong, they made it work. They found a way to shove a cube into a round hole.

Whether it was because they wanted it to work so bad or because the hole was a giant chasm with space for miles was up to debate.

The beach was calm in the early morning. Fishers were stocking up their ships to start up on their daily trip, tightening a rope here, making space there. Few people walked about the town, the kids either asleep or getting hassled to eat breakfast. With so few people out, it felt like they were on the outskirts of life, just the two of them. Like viewing the world through a painting.

That illusion was helped by the sheer height of Jordan’s tree. It was still there, despite the damage it had received when Tom got to it. If he looked closely, Wag could see the remains of burn marks and grooves held in the thick bark. He had heard that, after the heroes had left, Ianite had nursed the tree back to life in honor of her lost champion.

He ignored the fact that Ianite had sent them into the void in the first place.

Wag himself had left before that, called on to help the heroes that he had watched over as a distant wizard. Even now, he wondered if it had been worth it. To lose everything because he was asked to. In his weakest moments, he wondered if it hadn’t been the gods’ way of throwing him out.

That thought hurt the most out of everything in his life and he never let it linger.

It wasn’t long before they made it to the base of the hill that Jordan’s tree- sorry, Jerry’s Tree- sat beside. They weren’t that close to getting inside yet, but it was a milestone.

As they climbed the hill, massive roots stretching out below them, Wag started up some conversation about the different species of trees. He never once mentioned apple trees. It was part of his botany, after all, and important to keep track of. The types of trees, not apple trees. Apple trees were just one of those topics and therefore something they made an unspoken agreement not to talk about.

He pondered, during his ramble, that Martha could have just flown up the tree. She could do that, after all. Wag couldn’t. Not anymore. The worst part was that he’d help build this tree, or, well, make it. Way back then. That was a sore spot to think about, but even still he was in awe of the tree. Not because of the fact that he's contributed to it- no, he had felt a sense of pride for that a long time ago. Rather, because of how it’d regrown.

Ianite’s gentle hand had turned it from merely a large, enchanting tree to a behemoth of divine wonder. Its branches had spread further, with more room between them and the tips reaching towards the heavens. The leaves had shaped up and gotten fuller, surely the size of a full-grown adult by now. Fireflies could be seen lazily hovering about clusters of leaves, giving the tree a pleasant, natural lighting.

Many more platforms and walkways had been built, new buildings having been added on top of that. They stretched from one end to the other. The most daring teased the edge of a branch, hung firmly along the length of it. The walkways were either long rope bridges made of braided vines that shimmered a faint purple or ramps made and reinforced by the same wood the tree was made of, the bottom featuring fancy swirls alongside the support beams.

Other vines, flora, and bushes lined the branches and platforms. Though they looked like they were leeching off the tree at first, a closer inspection- granted you were on the tree to get an inspection- showed they were delicately wrapped around the branches and sneakily planted in hidden pots for a more natural look. The flowers ranged from all sorts of purples- fitting. Buddleias enclosed doorways, Hyacinthus were wound along lanterns strung along pathways, and an abundance of Jacaranda could be found wherever space was made for flora.

The more he looked the more nature there was to see, the more connecting walkways there were strung along, the more everything there was. It felt like the whole world was home under the canopy.

The tree had gone from the house of a solitary man to a city of nature.

It didn’t feel like the same tree.

Wag pushed aside the nagging thought that it was better than anything he could have ever made. Ianite was a full fledged goddess, Wag was- had been- a mere wizard with the idea of godhood in his head. What he made had been incredible for mortal standards, and was still incredible for the standards he had held himself to. It would do no good to compare himself to Ianite, especially when all she had done was repair what was already there.

As they made their way up to the crest of the hill, following the path from the town to the tree as it curled around Jordan’s old home, Wag spared a glance at the birch and quartz house. It was simple, sleek and minimal. It suited Jordan. Of course, Jordan himself had made it, so why wouldn’t it?

Compared to Jerry’s Tree, though, it seemed rather dull and insignificant.

Actually.

Wag spared a closer look at the smaller home. It looked lived in. A frown pulled at his lips. Was someone living there? Who else, other than Jordan, would?

Martha had picked up the conversation now, adding in details about trees that she had seen in her travels long ago, ones he’d never have had the chance to see. There were many interesting species, some magical in the same sense as Silverwoods, some as plain as a simple oak tree, but all more than enough to satiate Wag’s desire to know more. His mind kept getting pulled back to the Casa de Sparklez, though.

A thought struck him, one he’d had just moments before.

Jerry’s Tree looked and felt so different, now that Ianite had tended to it. Like it was a different tree. Did Jordan think the same? Did it feel less like home, after being away for so long and having watched it burn?

Was Jordan living in his older house because the tree felt so forgein?

Martha was going on about a beautiful tree known for the lights its seeds shone, especially during the night hours. It really sounded like a sight to behold. More than that, the gentle, awed look on Martha’s face pulled at Wag’s heart.

Take care of her.

There was a sour taste in his mouth. Wag decided not to mention what he had just noticed. That was Jordan’s business, not his.

Martha was looking at him now, a small, shy smile on her lips. Wag felt like if he said the wrong thing it’d disappear in an instant. Like Martha was used to having her interests pushed aside, or used to pushing them aside herself when people didn’t seem to care about what she was saying.

Take care of her.

He offered a smile back, a genuine one. He really did love her. More than anything, he wanted to keep loving her. But something told him it wouldn’t work. That what they had had started to decay sometime around the end of Ruxomar, around when he left.

No, around when Martha almost became Mrs. a instead of a Ms.

Bitterness clutched at Wag’s heart. For all the love he held for her, he wondered, again and again, if she held the same. If she ever held the same, if she even held something close to the same.

Take care of her.

Looking up at Jerry’s Tree, Wag remembered what it used to be. He remembered watching it burn, the pain he had felt in seeing his hard work get tarnished, in seeing a friend’s home wither away.

Now, though, it was different. Not quite a home, anymore, but reborn. Alive. And maybe, in the future, it’d be a home again, or maybe not. Maybe it needed to burn for it to become what it was now. Jordan would have never built it up to this, but Ianite had.

Maybe that was the secret, Wag pondered. Maybe you had to let things burn to be able to build them up stronger.

He looked at Martha again, at the softness in her face and the hardness in her eyes. His heart pulled in so many directions. Love, anguish, love, despair, love, hurt, love love love.

Yeah, he was going to have to let this relationship burn.

[timelordthirteen]

Killing Time 25/35

Detective Weaver/Belle French, Explicit

Summary: A Woven Beauty Law & Order-ish AU. Written for Writer’s Month 2019.

Chapter Summary: Belle gets contemplative about her future with Weaver.

Notes: For my August Writer's Month prompt #6: Is that my shirt? This is a bit of filler that only vaguely progresses the plot, but it's necessary to setup Belle's frame of mind for what's to come. Also an excuse to write more flirty idiots because how could I not with that prompt?

[AO3]  

The next day, Belle was still riding high on the revelation that Charlie Dunn, the second victim, was also adopted from Nevada.

She woke up early, and was already working and on her second cup of coffee when Weaver finally rolled out of bed around seven. Whatever had been causing her headaches and weird stomach issues, seemed to have left as suddenly as it came, which reinforced her belief that it was a mild bug from something she ate.

It was essential that they obtain the rest of the birth records on the victims as well as the Tremaines’ foster children. She spent most of the morning filling out request forms for the Clark County Clerk’s Office, one for each victim, one for Eloise, and one for her husband. They probably hated her by now, but if things panned out the way she thought they would, she would buy the whole office lunch on her. Her afternoon consisted of making inquiries locally for whatever birth records were available on the other victims. That had yielded little so far, aside from confirming that three more had been born out of state.

Weaver pushed the office door open, and Belle looked up from her laptop.

“We found Eloise Tremaine’s apartment,” he announced, walking over to the desk as he took off his leather jacket.

Belle’s eyebrows lifted. “Where? How?”

He set down a piece of scrap paper with an address on it in Detective Rogers’ handwriting. “Here, and it really helps once you know the victim’s actual name, and the name of the company that actually pays for the apartment.”

She frowned. “What company?”

Weaver dropped down into one of the chairs opposite her. “Robert Tremaine’s. Perrault Developments, Inc.” Belle’s frown deepened, and he continued, “which he inherited from his uncle, James Perrault.”

“Why do I know that name?” she asked, leaning back in her chair.

“I’m told it’s the name of the French guy who wrote Cinderella.”

Her face went through several expressions before she shook her head. “I’m surprised that you know that.”

He laughed. “I don’t. Rogers’s Googled the name and half the results were for Charles Perrault.”

Her lips curled. “So you two fell down a Wikipedia rabbit hole on your way to finding our victim’s residence?”

“Something like that.” He stretched a bit and rolled his shoulders, no doubt stiff from a whole day of driving around the city. “Anyway, the apartment was in the name of the company, and it never came up in any of our inquiries for missing renters, because the rent was still being paid.”

Belle leaned forward and rested her arms on the desk. “By a dead woman?”

“By an offshore account.”

“Of course.” She sighed. “Well, that explains why we couldn’t find any credit history on Eloise if she’s been living off the company money, and paying everything in cash or with the company account.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “We’ve got enough now to get all the information we want on Tremaine’s business. Maybe there’s some other connections to our victims from that.”

She picked up the paper with the address and did a quick search to see what part of the city it was in while he was talking. “Do we have access to the apartment yet?”

“Rogers is working on it. The landlord has already been notified, but he’s being a stickler for having the warrant before he lets us in.”

“Good for him, I guess.” Belle sighed again, and then pushed back from the desk. “I filled all the requests with Clark County, and found almost nothing locally for birth records. Damon, Chelsea, and Melissa, were all born out of state, but I don’t know where yet.”

“That’s something, though,” he said, trying to be encouraging. He knew how much she hated the tedium of paperwork and formal requests. “By next week we should have all of the records back, if not sooner. And tomorrow we get to see how Eloise Gardener lived.”

“I want to go with you.” She met his eyes with a stern look to let him know she was serious and would not be left back at the office while he and Rogers rooted through Eloise’s apartment. “I want to be there.”

He nodded in understanding. “Should have the warrant before lunch.” Then he smiled. “I think that’s enough for now. Ready to call it a day?”

She smiled back, already bending down to pull out her purse. “Yes please.”

He stood and lifted his jacket from the back of the chair. “I was thinking I’d make alfredo tonight.”

Pausing with her purse strap hanging awkwardly from her hand and one arm in her coat, Belle looked at him wide eyed, starting to smile. “That’s my favorite.”

Weaver licked his lips. “I know.”

Belle sighed and closed her eyes as her head fell forward, letting the hot water run down over her neck and shoulders.

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say she loved this shower. The bathroom had been a huge selling point when they first looked at the apartment, though that seemed like a lifetime ago. It had been too easy to settle back into a routine with Weaver, and while there had certainly been solace in the familiar, especially in the aftermath of being attacked in her own home, there was still apprehension. The conversation over the state of their relationship had never really taken place, and both of them seemed loath to rock the boat while so much was happening with the case, but she had been exploring her thoughts on the matter more and more.

Her session with Dr. Hopper had touched on it as well, and Archie had openly asked her if she wanted to reconcile officially with Ian. That was the penultimate question of course, and leave it to Archie to skip any formalities or attempts to ease into the topic. He knew her too well. Still, the idea made her smile.

A few months ago it would have earned a glare or a door slam, and a firm contradiction, so this was, by any standard, a great deal of progress.

Belle finished her shower and exited the bathroom in nothing but a towel. As she padded across the floor to the bedroom, Weaver glanced up from his laptop with a raised eyebrow and let out a low whistle. She threw him a look before she stepped into the bedroom and heard him chuckling as she closed the door.

Her skin felt tingly and warm, and she knew it was from more than just the water. The last couple of weeks she’d found herself almost distracted by her attraction to Weaver, and the pleasing banter and light teasing they had established between them only made it worse. She had to admit that he was different now than he’d been when they were first together, though she was uncertain what it meant. It made her want to stay, to get back together officially, in a way that left no doubt for either of them. But it also made her want to do all manner of naughty things.

Smiling to herself, she pulled on a pair of soft cotton pajama shorts and started digging in one of her bags for a shirt. Most of her work things were back in the closet, but with only one dresser, her casual clothes were relegated to a suitcase and two duffel bags. Frowning as she pulled out everything except what she was looking for, she reached into the inside pocket of the bag and pulled out something unexpected.

A small black box tumbled to the floor, and she hesitated for a long moment before picking it up.

Belle sat on the edge of the bed and swallowed hard, running her thumb back and forth over the soft velvet. She knew what was inside, but she hadn’t looked at it in a long time. With the way she’d been feeling towards Weaver lately, she wasn’t sure she should, fearful that it might bring up the wrong memories. Closing her eyes for a second, she flipped the box open.

The diamond sparkled even in the low light from the lamp on the nightstand.

She plucked it free, turning it this way and that, and making small shapes on the floor when it caught the light just right. Holding the band, she slid the tip of her finger in and out of the ring, feeling the smooth, cool metal. Before, in the weeks and months immediately after their divorce, she would take it out every now and then, and look at it. It usually resulted in her having a good cry and stress eating an entire sleeve of Oreos. She’d only brought it with her from her apartment because it was with her other jewelry, and though she’d known it was packed into one of the bags, it had been put out of her mind.

On impulse, she pushed it over her knuckle and settled it on the appropriate finger. Her hand flexed as she admired it, pleased that it still fit perfectly and didn’t look to be in any need of cleaning. She expected it to feel strange, since she rarely ever wore rings before she was married, and hadn’t on that finger since their separation. Bracelets and rings had always bothered her when she had to type or write, and throughout university and law school she was forever taking them off and putting them in her bag, finding them days later. But this ring had never been a hindrance, and she barely even noticed it as she worked. It wasn’t heavy or gaudy, and it didn't have so many facets and points as to snag her clothes.

Shaking her head, she quickly pulled it off and set it back in the box, and put the box back in the inside pocket where it had been before going back to looking for her nightshirt. Strangely, she kept looking down at her hand as she rummaged through the laundry basket. After being on her finger for only a minute or so, it made no sense that her hand would be missing the ring’s presence.

With a huff, she gave up trying to find the shirt that matched her shorts, and turned around to look for something else to wear, when her eyes landed on something of Weaver’s that had been mixed in with her laundry. She picked up his very faded and well worn Celtic Football Club shirt, and immediately pulled it over her head. The fabric was soft from years of wear and washing. It might have been her imagination, but even though it was clean there was the faintest hint of his scent on it and she pulled it up to her nose and inhaled.

Smiling, she opened the door and stood there, leaning against the doorframe until she was noticed.

“Is that my shirt?” Weaver asked, setting the laptop down on the coffee table.

Belle shrugged one shoulder and sauntered towards him, letting her desire add an extra sway to her hips. “Is it? It was in the laundry basket with my things.”

“Hmm, was it…” he said, leaning back on the sofa as a grin curved his lips. “Maybe that’s because you’re always stealing it.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Are you accusing me of a crime, Detective?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, watching her step around the coffee table to stand in front of him.

“Do you want it back?” she asked, putting one knee on the sofa beside his hip.

“No,” Weaver replied, licking his lips. “Looks better on you than it ever did on me.”

She brought her other knee down and straddled him, holding her body away from his. He held her waist, already bunching the shirt as she leaned over him. “Too bad.”

"Why's that?"

She felt his hands slide down to her backside and then up, lifting the shirt as his palms moved up her back. His hips shifted forward, and she allowed him to pull her down just a little as a low ache settled in her core.

Her lips brushed his, teasing him with the wet heat of her breath. “I was going to tell you to come and take it.”

[supposed2bfunny]

Yoo it’s me & you got me thinking. So 2D,spoiled only child,not real thoughtful(prob didn’t realize his mum did his laundry til he moved out and his laundry wasn’t magically clean anymore) & Murdoc leaves little candies and things in his pockets/around the house for him. Phase 5, Murdoc’s in jail. Suddenly there’s no candy around for him all the time. He’s confused about this until Noodle is like “who do you think did all that stuff for you?” What do you think that realization is like for him?

Uhhhh this may have expanded beyond anything I had in mind when you sent this ask hours ago, nips. Short ficlet under the cut!

It’s the second or third day after Ace moves in and the band moves forward with the new album that 2D finds the last vestige of Murdoc lurking on his things like a smelly miasma. He pulls on a worn sports jacket, a gift from FILA from 2013 or 2014, slips his hands into the pockets, and finds something heavy and metallic lurking in the right-side pocket.

Pulling it out, he beholds a silver ring bearing a skull, the sort of thing Marilyn Manson would have pulled off well in the 90s, that gothic bulkiness in which Murdoc has always aspired to look cool in and has never quite succeeded.

After a moment’s inspection, 2D does the logical thing: he hurls the ring down the staircase of the Spirit House, grinning with satisfaction at the sound of it bouncing off the wooden floors below and rolling away to be forgotten amongst debris and clutter and apathy.

“Tosser,” he mutters to himself.

The weeks wear on. Recording goes well, the band gets on just fine, and 2D does not think about Murdoc. 

However, he does suffer a few completely unrelated hang-ups that put the faintest damper on his otherwise now-near-perfect and tosser-free existence.

Primarily in the loss of surprise candy.

He wonders for the first time where all the sweets have gone.

And this leads him down the rabbit hole of wondering where they came from for the first time. For as long as he can remember, 2D has always been pleasantly surprised by hard candies, lemon sherbets, blue-raspberry lollies, Jelly Babies, even the rare Cadbury Creme Egg in the pockets of his jackets, or in his jeans, sometimes tucked into his beanies or even shoved into his pillowcases. Sort of like a tooth fairy has graced him at random times, leaving behind his preferred snacks. Good omens, if ever there was such a thing. 

It’s always reminded him of the way his mum used to leave Flake bars on his pillow after doing her weekly shopping, even when his dad went through his health kicks and tried to ban sweets from the house. 

He doesn’t exactly notice the loss until he’s standing in line at the market one day, purchasing several boxes of his preferred frozen chana masala dinners, when he impulsively grabs a few chocolate bars on his way to check out.

It’s only then that it occurs to him he hasn’t found any mystery goodies lying around for him in several weeks. Where had they come from in the first place, he muses. Noodle? Maybe Russel?

It doesn’t seem likely that Russel was giving them out, since he prefers to cook whole meals himself to serve the band. That leaves Noodle. And why wouldn’t she be sharing candy with him these days? Are they having a row?

As he makes his way home, he ponders what he could have done wrong to upset Noodle. She’d seemed perfectly fine the other day when they went out for bubble tea. She’d even laughed when he’d sucked the boba through the thick straw by sticking it between the gap between his front teeth. Things had seen positively chilly between them!

Being the brave, no-nonsense man that he is, and the de facto leader of the band now that the tosser is locked up for lord-knew-what, he figures he ought to confront her about it straightaway.

So he gives it a couple of days, in case she needs to blow off steam or cool down. Then a few more days, figuring she can approach him first to apologize, he should really be the bigger man. Then he gives it yet a few more days, just to be sure they are in fact having a row. Because rehearsals seem normal. Noodle’s spirits seem as high as ever, her Instagram posts emoji-saturated, her smiles genuine, her laughter nonstop as she develops a close bond with Ace and the two become inseparable. 

Finally, he bumps into her one night: they’re nothing reaching for their preferred coconutmilk ice cream sometime past two in the morning.

“Great minds think alike,” she smiles. “I’ll grab the bowls.”

“Hey, Noods,” he says, leaning back against the counter casually and popping the carton open. “Can I ask you something?”

“What’s up, Dee?”

“Are you...aw, it’s gonna sound so silly! You ready to laugh? You’re not cross with me, are you?”

She hands him a bowl and spoon and gets scooping. “Cross with you? Not at all--” he nearly drops his bowl in relief--”why do you ask?”

“Nah, forget it. What’s Ace say? Fuggeddaboutit?”

She pulls a face. “That was a really shitty accent.”

“Aint that the point?”

“I guess,” she concedes. “Anyway, I want to know why you thought I was cross with you: just tell me!”

“Well...I guess I kind of miss the candy you always shared with me.”

Noodle pops her spoon into her mouth, sits on the kitchen table and crosses one leg over the other. “Huh? What candy?”

“I mean, you’re the sweet tooth queen, Noods! You always have candies on you, and you used to share ‘em with me. And I guess I miss it a little bit.”

“When did I last share candy with you?” she asks. “It’s been like, a million years since I placed one of those bulk orders of the good stuff from Japan that I like.”

“No, no, not any Japanese candy. I just mean like, Jelly Babies and stuff. You used to leave ‘em in my coat pockets, or sitting out on my keyboards to surprise me. Like, rewind a month or so ago, you’d do it all the time.”

“No I wouldn’t,” she answers, looking thoroughly perplexed. 

“But...” he frowns down at his ice cream. It’s too cold still, hasn’t begun to get all good and melty the way he likes it. Just a lump of chill and ice. “Then who did?”

“You mean the little presents Murdoc always used to leave out for you? 2D, that was all Murdoc.”

There’s a pause as 2D continues to leer down at his bowl, almost forgetting that he’s not alone in the room. He remembers the skull ring he’d found and thrown. He remembers the candies sitting on the bench by his piano in the basement, the comic books rolled up and jammed into the case of his acoustic guitar, the comic books he has no memory of purchasing though they feature his favorite heroes. He remembers the fidget cube he’d found one day in his sock drawer, and the Cadbury Creme Eggs next to his condoms by the bedside.

“Hey,” Noodle’s voice draws him back out. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he says quickly. “Everything’s fine, luv.”

She arches a brow at him; she knows he only calls her that when he's unfocused. “It’s okay to miss him, you know,” she says gently. “Sometimes I do too. He was pretty indulgent towards you, when he wanted to be. Can’t blame you for missing that.”

“Yeah right,” he forces a chuckle. “Think we’re all doing better with that sod out of the band for a bit. I’m having a nice time stretching my legs, so to speak. Really, I’m much happier these days, in case that wasn’t obvious.”

“Okay,” she responds, and she sounds patronizing, but maybe it’s just his imagination. “I’m gonna go finish the movie I started,” she hops off the counter, leaving him to his thoughts. “G’night.”

“’Kay, night!” He sits down at the table properly, intending to finish his dessert. But while it melts, he figures he has time for a smoke. He pats his pants pockets, realizes he doesn’t have any cigarettes on him. Murdoc always had ciggies with him, no matter where he was, no matter what level of dress or undress he was in. These days, 2D often finds himself with smokes but no lighter, or playing with a lighter but lacking in smokes.

Not in the mood to get up to find some, he instead sits there, fiddles with his spoon. It seems wrong to qualify Murdoc’s behavior as kindness, given that the word is so contradictory to his entire persona. Murdoc is not kind. Never has been. Murdoc is a tosser, a criminal, an impulsive crackhead with a tendency to make decisions that hurt those around him.

A selfish prick...whose arbitrary actions have unwittingly brought him joy for months, years, shit, he can’t remember when he first started noticing these little treats and presents left out for him, like a corvid collecting bottle caps for a preferred human companion. 

He hates Murdoc then, not for his cruelty and nasty behavior, but for his capacity to defy his own constructed persona. 

Sometime deep into these thoughts, he realizes that his ice cream has melted beyond the point of being softened and melty: it’s just a puddle of coconutmilk soup with a caramel swirl. It’s also lukewarm. It’s also approaching four in the morning.

Joints cracking as he stands, 2D brings his bowl to the sink, then approaches the bottom of the staircase. He pulls up the flashlight on his cellphone, casts it around the foyer and the living room, peaks under unpacked boxes of records and ottomans collecting dust and many, many, many pairs of shoes.

He doesn’t find that ring he’d thrown. Eventually, he gives up looking and heads to bed.

For the first time since he’d received a phone call from the local police station, he dreams of Murdoc, wakes up with crusty eyes and tight lungs and stares at the ceiling for a long time. He feels less like the leader of the band then, and more like a wayward child. A runaway. A vagabond. Directionless.

Eventually, he reaches out an arm, fumbles blindly till he finds the notebook he’s been writing lyrics in. With a sigh, he hoists himself up into a sitting position, rolls his shoulders; a joint cracks somewhere in his neck.

His pen scratches dryly a bit against the blank page at first, reluctant to share its ink with him. The hiss of nub against paper, friction. Then, the ink floods out, all at once. 

[heartbreak-of-a-marauder]

Through the Rabbit Hole (2)

Part Two: The Trickster

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader

Summary: You give Loki a piece of your mind for New York and its fall out, but things aren’t as you thought.

Word: 2,335

Notes: Angst +++ Weirdly had a lot of fun writing this part... y/n = your name, y/h/c = your hair colour, y/e/c = your eye colour, b/f/n = best friends name. If you haven’t read part one STOP NOW and go do that:

<- 2 ->

~*~*~*~*~

New York, 2012

It was the penultimate day of your week-long holiday in New York and after days of sightseeing and shopping, you were glad to finally have a rest day. The restaurant you and your best friend picked today had a fresh but quirky vibe and your window seat gave you a fantastic view of the New York skyline. You chatted happily with b/f/n as you waited for your food to be served.

“Will you take a picture of me y/n?” b/f/n asked, both of you had saved for this trip for so long, at every opportunity you were taking pictures to remember these moments forever.

“Sure,” you pull out your phone and aim the lens at b/f/n. “Move slightly to the left, you’ll have Stark Tower in the back then.”

B/F/N followed your instruction and scooted over slightly. You grin as the camera focuses on your friend, you just knew they’d be bragging about for weeks. You snap a couple of shots before repositioning the phone for a different view, your thumb hovers over the button as you see a beam of blue light shoot into the sky from Stark Tower.

“What the heck?” you say absently, lowering the phone to stare out of the window, your friend turns as well to see what you’re looking at.

Other patrons in the restaurant also begin to notice just as an ink-black cloud begins to brew, expanding with supernatural speed; distorting the sky. Your frown deepens as when dark specks begin to fly out of it at speed. Some break off, heading in different directions in small arrow-shaped formations. Some specks explode as the descend, others are firing purple beams of light, you rise out of your seat not 100% sure that what your seeing is real.

You are so close to the window that your breath frosts the. One of the purple beams makes contact with a space a few floors above you. The glass shudders violently while the building moans in protest.

“What the fuck is that!” b/f/n shouts. Your stagger back thinking the same thing.

“Get away from the window!” you shout, panic rising in your chest as more shots connect with the building.

A woman behind you screams as a serpent-like creature descends from the cloud, its shrill shriek makes you cringe.

“We need to get out now,” b/f/n turns back to look at you, their face frozen in fear. You nod robotically, your eyes never leaving the window.

The world around you seemed to slow as the specks got closer, firing shots at random. You look back at b/f/n, screaming their name, reaching out for them just as the glass behind them shatters spraying the room with shards. The force of the blast throws you backwards. You crash onto your back hitting your head against the concrete, the force of the impact knocks the breath from your lungs as your vision swims. Dizziness and nausea assault you as you try to move, looking desperately for b/f/n. Dark spots dance across your vision when you finally locate their face. Their eyes are wide, and unblinking, a red puddle slowly expanding around their head.

“B/F/N?” you whisper just as everything goes black.

Today

You had woken up in the hospital a day or so later to learn that not only was your best friend dead but that Loki had led the attack. You had always wondered why he had attacked. What had happened to the gentleman you had known to become so twisted and spiteful that he was prepared to rain hellfire down on humanity.

But now, here you were, six years later, stood in the same courtyard you had first met Loki all those years ago. It hadn’t changed in the slightest, except this time there was no one waiting for you. The quiet made you feel out of place and unsure of yourself.

Now you were here you didn’t know what to do. Loki was probably incarcerated deep in the heart of the palace.

‘Good. Lock him up and throw away the key.’ You thought

It had taken a lot of courage to go back through that portal but now you were here you knew it was somewhat of a wasted journey. If you were discovered you knew you would likely end up in the dungeons too, after all, no mortal was supposed to be able to travel to Asgard.

Determination settled deep in your bones, you knew it was unlikely that you could give Loki a piece of your mind but that didn’t mean you couldn’t give it to someone else. Someone higher. His father perhaps.

You made your way out of the courtyard retracing your steps from memory, everything you passed looked the same as when you had last seen it. Loki had only taken you to certain parts of the castle, always making sure to keep you out of sight of other Asgardians. You stopped in the middle of a crossroads of hallways with no idea where you were supposed to be going.

If you were to be caught by Palace guards they might take you to the Allfather.

Turning around you went back the way you came until you found yourself with your nose nearly touching the doors to one of Loki's favourite places; the library. You tentatively place your palms on the ornate doors, there was bound to be some decrepit old librarian lurking about in there. But you made no effort to open them.

You struggled against the memories that began to seep into your mind, happy memories of the hours you and Loki spent in this room as he read to you.

"Y/n?" A voice whispers incredulously from behind, making you jump out of your skin.

You stand frozen for a moment, the sound of his velvety voice bringing back long-buried feelings. Remembering why you came you let your anger and grief swallow them up.

Turning slowly you face Loki. His hair had grown but he looked the same as last time you saw him. His porcelain skin and chiselled features hadn’t changed, but his chest seemed broader and his carefree demeanour was gone.

‘Of course, it’s gone, he’s a megalomaniac’

He wasn’t the same man you had fallen in love with, you had wondered if he had ever been that man or if it was just one of his tricks.

“Loki.” Your voice is cold and distant.

“You came back,” disbelief echoed in his voice. “I never thought you- it’s been years, I thought I would never see you again.” He admitted shyly, sounding almost hopeful.

You kept the anger and upset you felt in the forefront of your mind and let it bloom hotly in your chest. It would help with what would come next, you couldn’t allow yourself to feel anything different, you owed it to b/f/n not to forget.

“Yes, well, New York nearly made sure that I would never see anyone again.”

He baulked at you. Guilt and shame gnawed at his insides and a slight sadness took over his once optimistic expression. He had endured anger from Odin and disappointment from his mother with relative ease, but seeing the hurt he had caused in you very nearly broke his heart. The venom in your voice began to poison the hopes and daydreams he had conjured of you during your absence.

“You were in New York?” he asked quietly avoiding your eyes.

“Along with someone I loved very dearly.” You snap, emphasising every word.

“I had no way of knowing-“

“Bullshit!” you hiss.

“You never came back. I had no idea where you had gone.” His expression was stoic as he defended himself.

“You led an invasion party against us! Conquering New York would’ve just been the beginning and you know it!” You shout incredulously and watch Loki cringe as he understands your original meaning.

“The attack was a mistake I shall never stop paying for…” He admits quietly after a while. The sincerity in his voice was unprecedented. “… Forgive me Y/N, never in my wildest dreams had I imagined you would be hurt because of my foolishness.” He had taken a careful step towards you.

Hot tears burned your eyes and blurred your vision. You blinked quickly willing them away, he did not get to make you feel guilty for your words. You had come back to Asgard with a plan. You didn’t have time to be overcome by silly teenage emotions.

Yet there you were feeling overwhelmed by the man stood in front of you, the speech you had prepared was being forgotten with each passing moment.

“Keep your lies and excuses for someone who actually cares Loki.”

“Silver-tongued I may be, but I have never lied to you Y/N.” His stance shifted to one of defence, he had been stung by your words.

“How can I believe you? Why would I believe you! You set out to destroy my world, you murdered hundreds of innocents in the process.” Your breath comes out harder as you go on. “You should be rotting away in a cell for what you did, not walking around like some dandy, but I suppose because you’re royalty it's okay because daddy’s there to defend you.” You say spitefully.

“Why did you do it? You’re a fucking Prince, you had the world on a silver platter! What? Did you get bored, is that it?” you ask rhetorically. “Did mummy and daddy not pay you enough attention?” your intentions are cruel as you aim to hit a nerve.

Your thoughtless comments and accusations raise Loki’s hackles and in two long strides, he was toe to toe with you. So close you could smell him.

“I had my orders.” His voice was harsh but strained, your brows knit together as you process what he had just said.

Orders? Someone had sent him to attack earth? Why?

“So what! If someone tells you to stick your hand in a fire pit, you do it?” You try to regain the upper hand in the conversation knowing that if you let him speak, you would listen. “What backwards fucking logic is that?!”

“The kind that keeps you alive.” He hisses down at you.

There it was; the crack in his beautiful façade. He sighs heavily and just like a deflated balloon his shoulders sag and he drops his head. His forehead just a hairsbreadth away from yours.

“They threatened to kill you if you didn’t go through with it?” Your previous vehemence was gone, an unknown expression flashes across his face

“I have paid for my treachery.”

“Loki, who-“ Your press.

“‘Who’ does not matter anymore little one” he diverts.

“Of course it does, what if they try again, we-we need to be prepared.” You speak hurriedly, remembering the terror you felt in New York, you drive your hands through your hair, pulling it at the root.

“No.” There’s a tone of finality in his voice.

“What do you mean ‘no’? Loki, who sent that army? If you’re here you can’t know that they won’t try again!” the muscle in his jaw ticks.

“Your precious avengers have proved themselves ready and worthy of dealing with him, you do not need to worry little one.”

“Stop changing the subject!” you cry exasperated. “I was there Loki! I saw those things and what they did.” You place your hands on his chest willing him to pay attention to what you were saying.

“You don’t need to worry-“

“Loki,” you start, preparing to launch into another rant but he cuts you off.

“Enough y/n! Please…” his voice sounds broken as he begs.

“What did they do to you?” You ask softly.

When he doesn’t reply you begin to remove your hands from his person when he reaches up and captures your wrist, holding it against his chest. His grasp sends heat through your veins inviting your teenage fantasies in. You knew that deep down you still harboured feelings for the God, and all of these revelations had your defences crumbling.

“You don’t need to know little one.” His tone is as soft as yours had been and his smile sad.

The sound of footsteps and metallic clinking bursts your little bubble as you both remember where you are stood. Keeping a hold on your wrist he begins to drag you through the Palace, you glance around and realise you’ve never seen these parts before. You have to jog a little to keep up with his pace.

“Loki, where are we going?” you ask breathlessly, pulling against him trying to slow his pace.

“Somewhere a little more private little one,” for the first time you frown at his old pet name for you.

“No.” you state resolutely, pulling your arm out of his grasp.

“y/n now is not the time nor place for this.”

“Either you start talking or I start shouting again.” He glowers silently at you. “I came here for answers Loki, not for a friendly little visit for old times sake. I’m not some hormonal little girl that’ll eat up everything you say.” You cross your arms over your chest.

“There was a time you would’ve done anything I asked y/n.” You feel heat begin to creep up your neck and settle in your cheeks.

“Yes, well, you made your feelings about that quite clear though, didn’t you.” You deflect, desperate for him to not see how his comments affected you.

This time he took hold of your hand, linking his fingers with your own. When he pulled you into motion it was slower this time, allowing you to walk beside him and not have to fight to keep up.

“I always thought you were going to come back.” He admitted after a while.

You shrug in response.

“I missed you.” He adds quietly like he’s afraid the words will make you disappear.

You had come back, he didn’t much care for why anymore. He simply knew he would do anything to make this moment last.

~*~*~*~*~

TAGLIST: @jessiejunebug @seventieshead-modernlover @kinghiddlestonanddixon @danielle101370

[angelicspaceprince]

Dewey x Crafter Reader Headcanons

Ive fallen down a rabbit hole of crafting and I can't get up. Help me. I write hcs to help save my soul

I'll also edit when I have computer access so then there is a read more button or whatever they're called, I can't find it on mobile

Wrote directly onto the tumblr app so if there are any mistakes that's why. No betas, we die by our spelling and grammar mistakes here

You were a crafter before you met Dewey, having taken up most crafts by the time you were 17

Sewing, needlepoint, embroidery, cross stitch, knitting, crocheting

You'd experimented with them all and even though each one had its merits, you definitely had your favourites

Then life happened. You had to start working, unable to attend college, and soon you had no time to craft. If you were awake, you were working

Mostly low paying jobs to cover rent, bills etc, taking on as many shifts as possible

It was actually during one of your shifts you met Dewey

You started working at a local music shop, mostly serving and organising CDs when a very excited Dewey rocked up, wanting to find the newest release for one of his favourite bands

You got to talking and realised that you had similar music tastes and, even though you really wanted to get to know him more, you had to remain professional. You were still on the clock

Luckily for you, however, you were invited to go see a group of local bands performing to celebrate your friend's birthday

You recognized Dewey the moment he stepped on stage and was in awe at his musical skill

You figured it'd be weird to go up to him and start talking because a) if he didn't recognize you then having a stranger come up to you and say that you remembered him from work would be odd and b) if he DID recognize you from work that'd be even odder

You didn't want to give off stalker vibes, so you stayed at the bar, content just to leave it

Dewey, however, saw you in the crowd and had a different plan in mind

Still riding the adrenaline high from being on stage, he walked straight up to you

"I don't know if you remember me, bu-"

"I remember you."

"Oh."

You both blushed heavily as you shift in your seat. "Drink?" You offered. "I....I liked talking to you earlier, I'd like to talk some more."

Dewey positively beamed at that, sitting down next to you as you effectively start ignoring your friend's birthday party celebrations in favour of talking to the man in front of you

The rest, as they say, was history

You ended up dating pretty quickly after you first met, moving in with each other after only dating for 6 months

It was an accident, you had your power cut off (again) and it was the middle of winter. Dewey offered you a warm place to stay temporarily and after 4 weeks of looking for a new apartment, he just said "you're already living here, just move in with me."

It made things easier, now there were two people contributing to bills

Rent was never paid in full, but something was always sent in

Patty wasn't impressed by that but Ned wasn't as fussed, just happy to have something coming in

It helped that he really liked you and felt that you were a good fit for Dewey

Even though things still remained tough, you were happy just to have a roof over your head and someone who loved you

When Dewey started working for Horace Green, things became easier

Bills were paid with his paycheck, yours became groceries and fuel money

Even then, for the first time in a long time, you had spare cash

Most went into savings but being able to afford your own Netflix account? Felt amazing

Despite having a bit of extra money, some habits were hard to break.

You rarely bought clothing from anywhere but thrift stores and Walmart, Dewey prefering Walmart but essentially doing the same thing

Unfortunately, that meant the clothing you had bought wasn't always the best of quaility, especially when Dewey was the one wearing it

Just the nature of his jumpy, clutzy, accident prone and slightly messy self meant you were constantly buying him new shirts and mending his sweater vests

To be honest, it was getting old

You'd also been missing crafting for a while so. Two birds, one stone

The next time you were in Walmart alone, you grabbed yarn and knitting needles and on the few days a week you were home alone, slowly you started to knit him some new sweater vests, using an old one that was beyond repair as the template to make sure each one fit

The first one was just a plain, fadded red to get yourself back into practice before slowly beginning to add simple designs similar to the few he owned now

Then a couple of weird themed ones, a couple of his favourite bands, one with music notes in the design, one that was birthday themed, one with mini guitars, whatever amused you and you thought would amuse him, you knitted onto the sweater

Each vest took three weeks to make. By the time his birthday came around, you had made him ten new vests, having kept it a secret the entire time

You were super nervous when he opened up his present, but the giant smile on his face was worth it, excited with the concert tickets you managed to get for the two of you (in the pit, of course) and with each new sweater, he got more and more excited

"These are amazing babe! Where did you get them?" He asked as he got up to try his favourite (the one with a replica of his Gibson knitted around the bottom) on

You go quiet. "I....uh.....I made them."

He looked over at you like you just admitted you had found a cure for cancer

You'd neglected to tell him of your crafting past, it never came up so you never said

Now, however, he was keen to see you craft

He never even dared to try it out for himself, but enjoyed watching you knit or crochet without looking at your work, watching TV or chatting to Dewey as you just continued to work

Every year, he got at least two sweaters from you, and you made sure to knit a sensible one and a silly one

What amazed you was the fact that Dewey seemed to have fewer accidents

He took extra special care of all of the stuff you make him, never spilling so much as a drop of coffee on them and tried his best not to get them snagged on the one sharp part of the doorway into his office

One day he came home, nearly in tears

You were folding up laundry but you dropped everything and came rushing over, thinking the absolute worst but instead he simply pushed something into your hands and said "I'm so sorry"

Turns out, he took off his vest when he came in to play a song with the kindergartners, something he now does daily as part of his role as music teacher

He didn't notice one of the kids grabbing it and wandering off with it

It was covered in paint, one of the Gibsons were cut out and the yarn was beginning to unravel, despite clear attempts to keep it from doing so

It was ruined

You hush Dewey as you pull him close and reassure him it's ok, you can make him another one

It took a while to settle him, he treasured everything you made him and he allowed one to get ruined

But once you assured him it was fine and you knew it was an accident, you ended up spooning in the couch as you mentally start planning the new sweater

A month passed when he found a wrapped up parcel on his desk

He was running late, didn't have time to grab a coffee and accidentally grabbed his vest with a massive hole in the back rather than one of your handcrafted ones

Still, he made it to the classroom before any students arrived, so he quickly opened it up and a huge smile plastered its way onto his face

A new sweater vest that was near identicle to his ruined one, a bit cleaner and better designed than the old one

You'd also made him a pair of socks, something you'd been experimenting with, with the AC/DC logos on the side

He found the note at the bottom 'Hope you have a good day. I love you. Y/N. P.S. These are not allowed near the kindergartners ❤'

He quickly changed into the sweater, feeling so much better than he did 5 minutes ago

The socks became his lucky socks and he'd wear them to his gigs, stating that it was like you were up there with him

He shushed you when you pointed out that it meant he was technically stepping on you, telling you "you know what I mean" before giving you a kiss

He'd give you requests for scarves, beanies, the lot. Socks were for bed or performances only, apparently, but everything else was worn whenever

You even made beanies and scarves for members of the band who wanted them, each having the School of Rock logo on it plus the kid's name

Dewey loves wearing and telling everyone about the stuff you make because he thinks it's absolutely incredible you're able to create something like this

And he treasures everything you make him

Most importantly, he's there to listen when you rant that the yarn isn't working like it should, or just about crafting problems in general, and be an ear as you problem solve an issue and is there to celebrate the victories when it finally works

Gets really good at yarn shopping too, picks up the brands you prefer and learns to read the packaging labels

Just

He loves the fact you can create something just like he can

[everythingsablr]

The Wanderer

What happens when a Scout gets forgotten, presumed dead, further into the Titan forest than has ever been gone before?

And what happens when that Scout survives, thrives, even? Despite bearing a child that wasn't meant to be, especially not then.

This is the story of a teen born outside the walls, among the trees, knowing nothing but a life a hundred meters above the ground. And finding her way to these mythical walls her mother always told her about

The Wanderer is an in-progress, slow-burn OC/Reader Insert Attack On Titan fanfiction that as of yet has no set character of which the reader will end up with, though the choice will be between Hange Zoe, Jean Kirstein, and Levi Ackerman. Hit read more to read the prologue. ~2k words

PROLOGUE:

EXCERPTS FROM FLORA ALLAWAY'S JOURNALS CIRC. 831

WRITTEN ONE YEAR AFTER STRANDING.

The world had come back to me tinted in red. Upside down and quiet.

I liked the quiet.

You never hear it behind the walls. It’s too crowded. Too cramped and locked in.

I never liked tight spaces.

I guess that’s why I joined the Scouts. I was tired of being trapped like a rat in a cage.

I had found myself strung up in a tree, deep in the Titan’s Forest, deeper than we ever had gone before due to being chased down by multiple abnormals, for many days by horseback; my ODM gear the only thing keeping me up. I was alone. My horse's carcass was at the foot of the tall, tall tree I had somehow found myself in. It appears to have been squashed.

As I hang there, trying to remember where I was or how I had gotten there, I realize it is not silent. Not quite.

I can hear…. Birds?

Their gentle warbling is soft and beautiful, and I see a deer peering through the trees, maybe fifty meters away. This is unheard of within the walls, human desperation devastating any natural wildlife inside them. It’s prettier than the photos Erwin’s shown me, in the books we were never supposed to have.

Erwin…

The thought of him was what finally pulled me out of my reverie.

There were signs of a fight, struggle, everywhere, but far below me, I was.....unusually high. I found no corpses but plenty of blood, plenty of scrapes of my own including a nasty gash across my eye. I'm not that pretty anymore, unfortunately.  

‘I must have been thrown or tossed by a blast…’ I had thought to myself. So I gathered what I could from my horse and started searching through the trees.

I ran out of gas within hours. Food from my pack in days,

Hope in weeks.

My gear off of my horse and the lines out of my ODM gear allowed me to string my tent up high into the trees. And it was there, I planned out what I didn’t know would be the rest of my life.

And the beginning of someone else’s.

The treehouse was the product of six months of nonstop work put in by myself upon realizing that I had no way home. I was too far into the tall trees of the Titan Forest in the deep, deep southeast, with no mode of transportation. I was stranded in a sea of people-eating giants, and it became clear soon enough that no help was coming. They think me dead. I know that now.

A couple of the six remaining blades from my ODM gear were broken and turned into axes; my scout training along with my knack for hunting and gathering that I had picked up growing up in the small population of people in Dauper combining into pure survival tactics.

The sounds of my chopping down branches always inevitably brought a couple of titans but as time went on I became more and more accustomed to climbing trees, to the point where it became second nature. As easy as walking by the river.

Despite the name, the titans I came across were few and far between in the forest, never tall enough to reach me in the hundred-meter treetops; their arrival always preceded by an eerie, breath-stealing silence, as the birds and other fauna go into their own hidey holes.

Once at a certain height, though, I found they eventually lose my scent, and therefore their interest in me. It was rare that I ever had to jump from the trees to dispatch one, but if I did it was almost surely an abnormal. One that would just stand there for days, watching me. Almost seeming to...think. As though it were analyzing how it would be able to get to me. I didn’t like those ones, so they were dispatched with quickly. No one likes being watched. Especially by bulging-eyed freaks. It was four months into my new hell of a life when my stomach began to bulge, and I had to sit down, in my half-finished tree hut and fully realize where I was and what was truly going to happen.

Could I do this? Bring a child up in this world away from the world? Was that possible? Or should I…

The glint of green-tinged sunlight shining off the blade of my knife had drawn my eyes towards it, and as I got closer, I could see myself. Perhaps for the first time in many months.

My coiled red locks were thick and tangled, and my eyes, near the same shade of the leafy treetops above, are bloodshot and raw.

“I could end it all now. ‘ I had thought. I was tired. I was ready. I was so ready…

But when I grabbed that blade again, when I looked into it, looking for myself, I swear to you upon the Gods above Erwin, I saw you. I saw your stupid eyebrows and your steely gaze.

I saw your smile.

I felt your touch. And for a moment it all fell away and you were there with me, a hand on my stomach, feeling the baby kick for the first time. And I realize that I had to survive. I had to survive as long as it took for you to meet your daughter.

If you’re reading this, Erwin, you have. At least I hope that’s who is handing you this note right now. Pretty girl, hair as red as mine and eyes as sharp as yours?

She’s beautiful, isn’t she?

She’s smart. She’s sharp, quick, and everything you could ever imagine. And more. I hope you get the chance to witness it.

I love you, Erwin.

My knight in shining armor I never thought I needed.

Until the Gods bring us together again,

Flora Allaway

Year 847

Sixteen Years After Stranding.

Long, freckled fingers trace over the words written into the pages of the well-worn journal, salty, bitter drops dripping from the teen's face as she reads the journal for the last time where she was now sitting.

Morrigan was sitting on her knees in the middle of their home far above the ground, held up and of thick, woven branches, sixteen years of adapting and evolving turning the structure from something a little more than an unsteady shack- into a sturdy home, with walls made of wood planking, holes sealed in with mud, roof watertight with clay found from digging a bit deeper underground. They even had a small fireplace, and a chimney that chipmunks got stuck in quite often unfortunately for the critters, but fortunate for the women, who had enough to make gloves, and slippers, and even me out of.

The walls were lined with animal skins - over a decade of hunting and recording the local fauna.

Whitetailed deer.

Wild Boars.

Hares,

Even a fox or two.

Arrows made with owl feathers.

Grappling hooks made with ODM wire and antlers, there wasn’t a part of Morrigan’s wardrobe that wasn’t the skin of some animal that had sacrificed its own life for her and her mother to keep their own.

They learned to respect the forest that housed them because you can tell if you’re safe; based on the sounds of the forest. They’ll tell you if you should be quiet.

It had been a week since her mother had last come home. The longest amount of time by far. She was always back within two, three days tops. She had a caution to herself that Morrigan always teased her for, for her daughter was always almost a little too daring with her own life, always wanting to go further, whereas her mother preferred them to be safe.

And they were, for fifteen years.

It was soon after Morrigan’s fifteenth birthday, when they noticed a distinct shift in the Titans’ migratory patterns.

A titan or two would wander by inevitably around three to four times a week, usually coming from all directions, usually right after they would return to the trees after hunting or foraging, their scent being far enough to attract the monstrous beings. But, at one point in the early summer, something changed. Drastically. From the south. They all came, it wasn’t one massive rush, but enough of a stream to keep the forest quiet of all natural life for many days, weeks. By the time the birds started singing again, Flora and Morrigan’s cheeks were sunken in and they were lucky to be alive enough to hunt. Flora knew that something had happened. Something had happened to the Walls. She felt it in her soul. But she couldn’t go. She couldn’t take her daughter, no matter how capable she thought she was. She was just a child.

It was a year after the event her mother called “The great migration.” And they hadn’t seen a Titan in almost a month.

Which is just what made her mother’s disappearance so strange.

‘ Was now really the time where you weren’t careful enough, mother?’ Morrigan thought to herself bitterly, snapping shut the journal and tucking it to the bottom of her leather pack. The cloak she wrapped around herself was rabbit fur, waist-length and various shades of brown to near black, the hood entirely covering her face and wild mane of fiery ginger hair.

Her pack was filled with exclusively essentials, her waterskien strapped to her waist and her knives on various bodyparts, she stares at the two, untouched blades her mother had left. From all that time ago. Morrigan wondered why she’d never really used them, but had simply taught Morrigan how to at the ripe age of 12.

But she thinks she understands now, as she puts them in the sheathes she had watched her mother painstakingly take weeks making, sheathes that not only strap to one’s back and provide easy access, but don’t impede ones’ movement while swinging/running through the trees. As she’s about to step outside what she’s known as home for the past decade in a half for what she knows is the last time, she hears the silence. It’s deafening. She pauses, hand on the loop of twisted bark that served as their door handle, holding her breath as she pulled it open, not expecting anything immediately, but the eventuality of encountering a titan was enough to set one on edge. But when she opened the door, it was not green-filtered sunlight that met her. It was the disgusting, hot, wet breath of a Titan.

She felt her heart skip, once, twice, three times, processing what was before her in both slow motion, and the speed of light. It was between ten and twelve meters, it’s hair a ridiculous bang ordeal, with wide, accusatory brown eyes and a sneer upon its lips. It was disgusting. The thing  had climbed the wide-based tree across from their home, using that one to avoid shaking theirs. It was… stealthy. That was the only thing Morrigan could process before a massive hand was reaching for her. She threw herself through the door, knowing that if she didn’t, she’d be stuck and die for sure; her body inevitably being ripped apart and devoured by this vile creature

The grappling hook was swung, and it luckily hooked onto a tree branch, swinging her quickly behind the Abnormal and allowing her to perch just above it, unsheathing the blades and grimacing, eyes staring down its naked form with pity-laced disgust. For all she knew, this is the monster whose fault it was for her mother not coming home. It was that thought that launched her off of the branch, before the creature could even turn around and try at her again, she had done what her mother had taught her, and what those people behind those walls were supposedly “so good at.”

‘ One meter across ten centimeters wide…’ She thought to herself, as she slashed across the back of the Titans’ neck. She knew she had done it correctly when the thing slumped forwards, falling and hitting every branch on its’ way down. It had begun steaming almost immediately, and she crinkled her nose in disgust. “Good riddance.” She said softly, before shaking herself off and resecuring all of her things. This was going to be quite the journey. She wasn’t sure if she was going to find her mother or the fabled “Walls” first. But she knew she refused to die until she found both. The Wanderer is updated weekly on fanfiction.net and archiveofourown.org  and is currently two chapters deep, with many more to come.  I tend to forget about Tumblr so updates here will not be so frequent though I will try and remind that the chapters are up elsewhere. Have a good one and I hope you stick around!