#ass amount of notes on a post i spent several days on that then fucked my hands up after

[autistickaitovocaloid]

Thinking about trying to flesh out some hylics oc concepts I had last year...

[incarnateirony]

honestly getting out that post streamlining/reminding of the flow of the last 3 years of history felt. Good.

And you know what? Fuck you people. Yeah, Jensen doesn't want you here, but neither do I.

It's time to face your bullshit. It's time to face your homophobic tendancies whether internal or external. It's time for you guys to admit you're full of white supremacists and nationalists and actually DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT if you don't want to collectively be treated like the plague. It's time to admit you're rotten people with rotten opinions and nothing of value beyond the millions of dollars you've wasted.

It's time to recognize that the man you've spent those millions on can't stand you. He knows you're homophobic and racist and weird and possibly pedophilic or a sibling fucker. He doesn't think it's cute, he doesn't think it's funny, and you have never been a hero for harassing his friends or wife. J2 theory was never real, there was never an underground secret garage, the steak messages meant nothing, and the grilled cheese sandwich was just a sandwich.

He's an actor that has been paid, and for many years, basically forced as an employee, to tolerate your horse shit with a smile because you paid for it, and you did not have the common sense or contact with reality to understand that paid products, statements or events from performers are not indicative of reality, as much as indicative of a marketed product you desire to purchase.

And now, he's not an actor getting paid. Now he's the boss flushing them from markets, laughing and telling them to hate watch, and making everything their bigoted asses hate, and no amount of their screaming is gonna stop him, or the rainbow popping out of dean's head on premiere day that they said truly showed was binding this piece together and fated for success, almost like IDK, they see a message in that rainbow or some shit enough to premiere their show with it.

Jesus fuck. Go away you fucking homophobic cunts. I don't care what card you claim to wave, I don't care if you want to give yourselves gold stars for not abandoning your spouses when they came out, I don't fucking care. If you're a homophobic cunt you're a homophobic cunt, always have been, and the fun fact is the entire crew now knows you're homophobic cunts.

Process that shit. This is at hookerwitch and her homophobic shit about "prancing around", about Kelios' need to shove incest in real life LGBTQ tags, or 2po grooming people to accept RL incest in DMs. This is about Vinnie's willingness to pretend to be woke and use any angle to attack POC or LGBTQ content doing things she doesn't personally ship or whatever, to the point she herself exposes what a rancid racist cunt she is (like her reaction to the phrase "dirty south" being extremely freudian).

That's your shit. That's you being a problem nobody wants. Yes, you're right. They want you to go away. Stop being the weirdos screaming outside the party. Nobody wants you here. I literally paywalled my server and you guys are still so desperate for validation that's not stopping you. You lost, you fucking cunts, get over it.

Even if you refuse to process *who* in fandom outnavigated you these last several years to the success note we're on today, you HAVE to face the FUCKING. RESULT.

[obeymeluv]

You Steal the Boys’ Clothes

Something I’ve been thinking of for a while.

Lucifer

It was rare the eldest was without his cape, as everything seemed to be a formal event and he must be dressed to impress. Being dressed to impress, however, means being clean so he gets it cleaned from time to time

Lucifer is a very organized, practical man. Constantly towing the line of obsessive for the sake of orderliness.

He knows where his cape should be, and that it’s not there

With a demon’s-only screech that warns Mammon to stretch his calves and run, Lucifer hunts down the three most likely suspects to interrogate them (Mammon, Satan, and Belphegor).

He tries to get a two-for-one by dragging Mammon into the study where Satan sits smugly with a book (because he knows he didn’t do it but MAN is he enjoying this!)

Imagine surprising not one, but THREE demons when you come shuffling down the hall with a Lucifer’s cape wrapped around you like a blanket.

It whispers and it drags and it absolutely DROWNS you.

Very charming. Ethereal, almost like some sort of wedding wear

Lucifer would’ve never imagined you’d be the culprit, and now his poor brain is trying to save and process the idea of you looking so sleepy-happy in his clothes

And the ex-angel falls all over again.

He catches the little cheek nuzzle and way you bunch it around your body, a foot poking out not to get tangled

Satan and Mammon will probably die laughing instead of at his hands, but Lucifer could really care less

Lucifer idly wonders where you’d curled up that he totally missed you, and escorts you gently but red-faced to your room

Satan and Mammon tag along, and when they see Lucifer come out with his cape they can only deduce he put you to bed.

Mammon

With no homework to do and some money in the bank, Mammon was ready to spend the weekend tearing up the town with you!

He was fresh out of the shower and mostly dressed, searching feverishly for his beloved white and brown jacket

Mammon wasn’t the cleanest person by nature (hello, money hoarder and collector of interesting/valuable things) so he tidied up as he went

As he started to suspect one of his little brothers was holding the jacket for ransom, he sent out a group text asking about it

There were several typical smart-ass responses (Lucifer, Asmo, and Satan) and he was in the middle of a snark fight when you showed up at his door somewhere between bashful and chill

In HIS jacket

Mammon’s brain shuts down.

HIS baby in HIS jacket? HELL YEAH! OH GOD, IT’S TOO PERFECT!

FIEND, TAKING HIS HEART!

“It’s kind of a human thing,” you explain. “There is a one-jacket fee among couples. Usually it’s a hoodie.” you tease, reluctant to shrug it off, “But this seems to be your only jacket so I guess I could give it back.”

It’s very subtle, but he’s worn that jacket for centuries and no amount of detergent can disguise the scent that makes his heart skip a beat

Something about the smell of your skin and a hint of his has him purring

You hold the jacket out to him. Mammon wraps his fingers around it and swings it around until he’s holding it over one shoulder

The yellow takes over in his eyes a little more. Gets a little brighter and intense.

“You want to take anything else off?” he husks playfully

Your day out turns into staying in and Mammon is happy to trade his jacket for a shirt you can sleep in (like, forever. It’s fine. Whatever, dummy.)

Leviathan

It was actually really hard to steal Levi’s clothes because he lived in his hoodie and turtleneck. His RAD uniform was really just for show and that wasn’t what you were looking for, anyways. You didn’t want to chill in uniform.

He was very particular about his merch because certain shirts were collector’s items and he didn’t like people messing with his folding patterns

You went to Asmo with your dilemma and he found it absolutely ADORABLE. It was almost enough to make him jealous, really

Somehow (Asmo being Asmo?), the fifth- born was able to swipe one of the green button-ups Levi wore under his RAD uniform

His first thought was to alter the garment to make it fit you (matching outfits? YES!) but Levi would probably kill him. His big bro hated shopping for clothes unless he HAD to have them.

Asmo gets the bright idea to magically/temporarily alter the fabric to fit you. Maybe Levi will like it so much he’ll just give you a shirt! 💖 (Or get some fucking outside time and go buy more shirts!)

Levi catches his own scent somewhere outside of the door and his brain goes off. He hits the pause button at lightning speed.

No one else smells like him! They haven’t shared bath products in centuries! He already finished his laundry so what’s happening?!

His first thought is: Mammon broke into my room while I was in the bathroom and stole something to pawn!

Levi doesn’t even think to take inventory of his stuff, barging out of his room to hunt down his big brother

He’s yelling and whining before he even sees him. Then he sees you. In his shirt.

All the angry words die in his throat as the absolute mortification and adoration sets his face on fire

SO KAWAII! It basically makes up for your normie-ness.

Levi’s stuck standing there, blushing his head off and unable to say anything as his fists shake with joy and nervousness

He gets a nosebleed. One of his brothers are laughing at him.

You guide him back to his room to take care of him, Levi lets you and becomes very fascinated with the idea of you in his clothes .Lots of petting and figuring out you look DOUBLY MEGA CUTE when the magic wears off and you’re just in a pool of fabric.

He’s totally down for matching clothes and definitely lets you keep the one you’re wearing.

Satan

His wardrobe is very...interesting...to say the least

Colors and personal combinations aside, Satan actually has a very smart wardrobe. Lots of basics and easy layers.

You can’t steal his signature green sweater or the blazer he seems to live in, so you settle for an emerald knit sweater that has a bit of a v-neck/university feel to it

It takes Satan a while to notice, as he’s buried in a book. You two tend to gravitate towards each other and just enjoy a cozy, companionable silence

He’s just finished a book and is debating cracking open one from the stack to his left when the color catches his eye

The smooth, sly comment dies on his lips when he realizes he likes the damn thing because IT’S HIS

You look very cozy and warm. It’s a very ‘cuddle me’ kind of look.

Perhaps you could warm his lap? Or give his poor hands a rest under the hem?

Very cheeky and clever. Grabs you by the sleeve of it just to ‘answer his curiosity about whether it matched his nails’.

Does he have a cute university student kink? If he didn’t, he does now?

There’s a 50-50 chance of you guys having sex.

Will definitely want to hold you and cuddle you close, petting the fabric and whispering compliments into it.

If you don’t already have a business/academic attire, Satan will definitely suggest a few pieces because YES. This is a thing he loves and it DOES things to him.

Asmodeus

He’s the type to let you think you stole something

Probably stages what he wants you to steal just so you take it

Honestly, I could just see him dumping some of his clothes on you because you’re dating now and this is a cute thing he read about!

It’s super likely he’s into couple outfits or coordinating outfits, so he’s either spent time in his closet pre-planning or asked you to try on a million things just because

This cutie pie purposely orders THE BIGGEST thing he can find so you can both fit in it at the same time

Asmo loves you to pieces no matter what, but seeing you in his clothes makes him squeal and hit a note Mammon has threatened to murder him over

Ever dramatic, this is like, THE BEST THING EVER

A MILLION Devilgram posts about it (safe ones, of course)

Do you guys spark a couple’s trend and spade of lover’s stealing each other’s clothes to snap a victory pic? Maybe

Probably fake faints at the sheer glory of you in HIS bomb ass clothes. Definitely fans himself

Spoils you rotten with compliments

This man is weak. “Gorgeous! Smother me.” as he falls back on the bed and gestures to his face

He won’t turn down the idea of sexy times (depends on your libido, comfort, etc.) but sometimes he makes raunchy jokes just to be funny. Smothering could also mean using him like a body pillow (which he’s totally okay with).

You get max cuddles and WILL be the envy of Devilgram

Beelzebub

Beel felt a little guilty for leaving you at the House of Lamentation with his brothers

You guys were supposed to hang out after school but there was an emergency practice. The coach always got pre-game jitters and demanded a few last runs. He showered and ran back to the House, hoping you still had time for him.

He tiptoed quietly into his shared room, unsurprised to find you waiting there for him. You’d been caught in Belphie’s sleepy little aura by the looks of it,

Beelzebub couldn’t help the grin or little hum that made it past his lips. Your eyes were open but he didn’t know if you actually saw him. You looked super cute in his humongous bed though

You were getting sleepier and sleepier, your eyelids getting heavier and heavier. Beel pulled the sheets over you and gentle untangled the arm you managed to latch on to

Maybe waking up to a bit of food would make up for everything! Beel toiled away in the kitchen, making a cute little snack tray for the two of you.

In reality, it could probably feed at least twenty, and he ate at least half of what he prepped.

Beel returned to the room with what he considered a decent amount (scraps, kind of, but enough variety! He tried! It’s the thought that counts!) and was surprised to see his sheets all tangled and half-kicked from the bed

You were wearing his jacket now, passed out and turned into the furry lining that usually went across his shoulders and neck

DId you sleep walk? He was trying to understand how you’d gotten into his jacket

Beel realized it was the first time you’d been in his clothes and it was enough to make his heart melt

Super huge on you, obviously (extra fabric everywhere), but so cute! He could basically swaddle you in his jacket

“They’re a restless sleeper,” Belphie yawned. “I thought it would help them calm down.”

It used to work on Belphie, so Beel could see why he resorted to it

Beel offered his twin some food, sitting carefully on your other side.

He shifted some of the parka fur away from your face, trying to fix your hair and nudge your chin up so your nose wasn’t buried in anything. He stroked your cheek a little, mesmerized by the sight of you and how you felt.

Belphie declined, muttering something about, ‘Stop looking like that and eat your food! Gross!’ before Beel settled for patting your head one last time and eating quietly

Belphegor

He’s another one that’s hard to steal from

You’d think it’d be easy since he sleeps all the time, but Belphie really only wears 10% of the clothes he buys

Yes, he’s a pajama snob and has all things comfy and cozy, but hardly any of them smell like him because he falls asleep anywhere with little issue (no special clothes required!)

You thought about stealing his blue cardigan with the pocket, but he’s always sleeping in it!

Belphie picks up on your train of thought, and the frustration, because you fall asleep thinking about it. Dreaming about coyly stealing his cardigan and being all cute and snuggly in bed

It’s enough to wake him up, shuffle to you, and break your sleep. He flops down on your bed with his cardigan unbuttoned and says ‘climb on’ while patting his chest

You’re obviously sleepy and confused and he loves it. Belphie slides you onto his chest and wraps his arms around you, resting bits of the fabric on your back as you settle into him

It’s not the same but it’s close enough

Would you be offended if he got you cow pajamas so he could snuggle you like his favorite pillow? He falls asleep wondering about the answer

He wakes up to see that Beel has covered the two of you with his favorite blanket.

You in his blanket? Against him? Slowly smelling of him and his clothes? It’s the best thing to fall asleep to.

Makes a joke out of your clothes-stealing quest by stripping one of his pillowcases off and putting you in it like a little sack. You have to stay on his bed now because you’re his pillow and all pillows stay on the bed.

“What? You wanted to smell like me! It’s something I use!“ Belphie defends as you wonder whether or not you like this human pillow thing while he snuggles you.

[myrandomfandomramblings]

Making memories - a Chenford fanfic

For Chenfordficweek2021 - as described by @therookiebook

Instead of a fic a day for chenford fic week I decided to just write one incorporating as many prompts as possible. This is because when I read them a few just connected in my head and then I had way to much fun seeing how many I could kinda incorporate. Some of the quotes aren’t word for word but the lines are inspired by the original prompt.

*Note: my beach fic was also inspired by this prompt list but I got antsy and posted it early so if you haven’t read it, you can check it out.

Main prompt: Road Trip

Other prompts:

July 11th- 

"Is that you...singing? Since when can you sing?" 

"I wish we could stay like this forever." 

Fight 

"You're comfier than a pillow." 

July 12th- 

With Child(ren)- theirs or not

"I fucked up."

"Where have you been?" 

July 13th- 

"You're crushing me." "I can't breathe with you on me." 

"Stay here." 

"What do you want?" 

July 14th- 

"I'm calling the police." "We are the police." 

"Don't move." 

"That a new dress?" 

Sweet tooth

July 15th- 

Locked out (Car/house/station) 

"Stop hogging all the blankets." 

"Why are you bleeding?" 

"Make me." 

July 16th- 

Shopping together or for the other 

Getting lost

"Is that my shirt?" 

Under the stars

July 17th- 

Competition 

Tears 

"Why are you so late?" 

When Lucy arrives in role call and hears she’s partnered with Tim for the day, she’s excited. When she hears they are to wear civvies and take Tim’s truck to surveil a suspect, she’s confused. And when said suspect drives further and further out of LA and they are instructed to keep on his tail, she’s annoyed. If she didn’t know better she’d think some writer designed the assignment purely because it was convenient for their story. Nevertheless, this is her life: crashing at a random hotel nearly nine hours from LA, after finally being relieved of surveillance detail, by the local sheriffs department, at 2:30am. The plus side is she’s being paid overtime, not only for the late night but also for the commute back to the city tomorrow. The down side is despite being exhausted she twists and turns all night unable to get comfortable in the strange environment. So when Tim knocks on the adjoining door between their rooms at 10am she’s already been up for a few hours. She has written a journal entry in her notes, preordered drinks for them to pick up at Starbucks and spent more time than she’d like to admit on google maps and various travel sites researching their trip home. She has also found time to plunder the continental breakfast and is currently demolishing a strawberry danish and a cinnamon bun. This earns criticism from Tim, whose plate carries sausage, eggs and an orange.

By 11am they’re on the open road again, coffees in the console between them. The small talk they had been making since they left the hotel had slowly died out so now they sit in comfortable silence. That is until Lucy reaches over to turn on the radio. 

“You know how I feel about car radios Chen,” Tim warns in his best TO voice. 

“Even off shift?” Lucy scoffs, and continues to press the on button and turn the volume dial up. Nevertheless, nothing happens.

“Looks like it doesn’t work anyway,” Tim states as he continues to hold the volume down button on the steering wheel, unbeknownst to Lucy.

“Fine then I’ll be the radio.” “You like Lady Marmalade, right?” She’s referencing Tim’s LA CLEAR security answer but she doesn’t wait for his reaction or reply before beginning to belt out the opening lyrics.

As she sings his initially surprised expression, morphs to shock and then awe. 

“Since when can you sing?” he asks when she finishes.

She just shrugs, looking down at her hands as they begin to fiddle in her lap.  

“Now I wish the radio really was broken,” Tim states as he turns it on and music starts playing.

Lucy shoots him a quick death glare before turning her attention back out the window.

---

By noon Lucy’s singing quietly along to the music (causing Tim to reevaluate his opinion on car radios) when she suddenly sneezes then freezes as her eyes go wide.

“Ah, can you stop at the next place with a bathroom?” she asks bashfully.

“We haven’t even been driving that long can you hold it?”

“Find me a bathroom or your truck will be covered in blood,” Lucy says, her tone conveying urgency.

“What? Why are you bleeding?” Tim asks, confused.

“If you don’t know why I, a woman, would be bleeding and thus need a bathroom then the public school system failed you.”

 “Oh, ah, right, sorry,” Tim stutters, “I think there’s a small town at the next exit.”

“Thank-you,” Lucy replies clearly relieved.

“Do we need to find a drug store or do you have what you need?’

“Ya, if you could find a drug store.” She’s fiddling again, unable to shake the feeling of embarrassment even though she knows, rationally, she has nothing to be embarrassed about.

Several minutes later Tim’s pulling into the drug store parking lot and Lucy’s unbuckling her seat belt to run in. But as soon as she stands up Tim’s voice stops her.

“Wait Luce.” There’s a tenderness to his voice especially when he uses the new nickname that stops her more than the instruction itself. “I think we’re too late.” 

Lucy looks down at the seat she just vacated to see its center now decorated with a dark red stain. A matching stain is present on the butt of the long yellow dress she’s wearing. 

“Of course,” she spits as she tries to fight back tears that are already running down her cheeks.

“That a new dress?” Tim questions awkwardly, caught off guard by the sudden display of emotion.

Lucy lets out a choked laugh as Tim flounders to find something helpful to say.

“I ruined your truck, I ruined my dress and now I have to walk around the drug store with a giant stain on my ass,” Lucy sniffs.

“Hey Lucy, everything’s going to be okay.” He reaches across the console to put a hand on her shoulder. “Stay here. I’ll go in and get what you need.”

She stares at him surprised and unsure. The idea of him buying her tampons and pads and, she realizes, new underwear seems uncomfortably intimate.

“So, ah, what do you want?”  

Because she has no desire to walk around the store with a giant blood stain on her butt she gives him her order, eyes down, face turning redder by the second.

He just nods and returns a few minutes later with three grocery bags and immediately hands them to her.

Inside she finds much more than she requested. The first bag contains two chocolate bars, two bags of candy, and two bottles of water. The second holds 6 different packages of assorted pads and tampons.

“How much blood do you think someone loses on their period,” Lucy teases.

Tim gives a small shrug. “I didn’t know which kind you wanted.” 

Inside the third bag Lucy finds a bottle of Advil, a package of wet-wipes, a spray bottle of stain remover, a new package of underwear (simple white cotton), a pair of black tights and a box of black garbage bags. 

“What are these for?” she asks holding up the garbage bags.

“They didn’t have any shirts so I thought we could make some head and arm holes and-“ he stops talking when he sees Lucy’s unimpressed expression. “I know it’s not ideal.” 

“Good thing I already have that figured out,” she says holding up a plaid button up. 

“Is that my shirt?” He had taken it off as soon as he got in the car, since like usual he had a henley underneath, and thrown it into the back. Lucy must of retrieved it while he was in the store. 

“Please,” she says fixing him with those puppy dog eyes. “I promise I won’t get blood on it. Well, I’ll do my best. Please don’t make me wear a garbage bag.” 

He laughs. “I forgot I had that. I guess I didn’t need these.” He takes the garbage bags from her and is about to throw them in the back when Lucy speaks up.

“Actually I’ll take one,” she says ripping the cardboard and freeing a single bag. She proceeds to rip a hole in the top of the garbage bag and pulls it over her legs like a skirt. Then she puts Tim’s plaid shirt on overtop. Tim is watching her with raised eyebrows.

“What? It’s just temporary. I promised I wouldn’t get blood on your shirt.” She puts everything she needs in her bag and goes into the bathroom to clean herself up. When she returns Tim is just finishing cleaning the blood off the passenger seat. 

“I would have done that.”

 “It was no trouble.” “Here spray some of this on your dress before the stain sets,” Tim offers as he hands her the stain remover.

Lucy does then drapes her dress over the backseat.

“Ready to go,” Tim asks.

 Lucy nods and by 1pm they’re back on the road.

 ---

By 2pm they’re both hungry and decide to stop for lunch. The place they choose is a fast food joint connected to a gas station. It’s busy. Probably because it’s the only place to eat for miles around. While they wait in line to order, Lucy goes to use the bathroom, only to find another line just as long. She decides to try the gas station bathroom instead, telling Tim that she’ll be right back but if he gets to the front first he knows her order. He goes to argue but she’s already gone, which is probably a good thing since he has no rebuttal, considering it’s the truth. 

A few minutes later Tim has their food: a veggie burger with extra pickles and fries for her and a burger and fries for him, but she still isn’t back. He wanders over to the gas station to find her standing in line at the register. 

“Put the candy back Chen.”

“Make me,” she says shaking the bags as she holds them by her shoulders.

Tim reaches for them but Lucy moves to evade his grasp. “Too slow,” she teases.

“You’ve already had two pastries, one bag of candy, a chocolate bar and a frappa-cappa-crapacciuno or whatever.”

“It was a chai tea latte and you know it.”  

“It was more sugar than anything and we still have more candy in the car. You’re going to give yourself diabetes.” 

She shrugs. “It’s not a road trip without excessive amounts of junk food.” 

“It’s not a road trip. It’s a commute home.” 

“It’s whatever we make it,” she says as she taps her card to pay for the candy. 

They find a state park a few minutes up the road and unpack their lunch at one of the picnic tables. They talk as they eat, familiar banter flying across the table. As they near the end of their food Lucy is animatedly telling a story about a recent arrest. She has a french fry in one hand and as she gestures, a little too aggressively, a glob of ketchup flies off the end of the fry and right into Tim’s face. 

She sinks down a little in her seat and covers her mouth to try to suppress a laugh.

“Did you just throw ketchup at me Chen?” he glares as he slowly removes the offending condiment.

“Not on purpose,” she giggles.

“If you start a fight you better be prepared to finish it,” he says as he rips open a package of mustard and squirts it at her.

Although it has poor projectile power a small amount lands in Lucy’s hair. She looks back at him mouth wide. “That was on purpose. That’s assault. I’m calling the police.”

“We are the police,” Tim deadpans as he rips the top off another mustard package.

“You wouldn’t” Lucy warns as she opens a mayo.

Then words are abandoned as condiments fly. They go through 5 ketchup, 3 mustard, 2 mayo, 1 bbq sauce, 1 ranch dressing, 1 aioli and 1 pepper packet before they both surrender. In fact the only packets left untouched are the hot sauce and salt. Both their faces are covered in assorted condiments. Most that had been scooped off the picnic table and smeared directly onto their target when it became clear the packets could barely project their contents a foot. The only one that was truly an effective weapon was the pepper which successfully gave Tim a sneezing fit. 

As they sit back down to finish the last bit of their lunch Lucy picks up a fry and runs it along Tim’s cheek then throws it in her mouth. 

“Not bad,” she says as Tim makes a face of disgust.

When the last fries are gone they throw out their garbage, wipe down the picnic table, then turn their attention to themselves.

“It’s a good thing I bought these wipes,” Tim says as he passes one to Lucy. 

She laughs as she takes it and begins to wash her face. 

“Did I get it all?” she asks when she thinks she’s done. “Because you didn’t,” she adds as she reaches up to wipe the side of his mouth.

He’s startled at first then his expression morphs into something she can’t quite read but something that makes her linger just a little longer than strictly necessary. Then she steps away and climbs into the drivers seat and by 3pm they’re back on their way.

---  

By 4pm Lucy’s in the middle of a seemingly endless monologue about the bachelor franchise when she looks over to realize that Tim is fast asleep. She would be insulted but instead she sees it as an opportunity. She starts to take every turn she can. Whenever she comes to an intersection she turns on to the smallest street. By the time Tim wakes up, about half an hour later (of course he would have is body trained to nap the ideal more than 20, less than 40 minutes), they are in the middle of nowhere. She waits until he’s fully awake then slams on the brakes.

“I’ve been shot. Where are we, Tim?” she demands in her best Tim Bradford voice. He looks out all the windows to see nothing but ranches then back at her, confusion clear on his face.

“Did you get us lost just so you could prove a point?” His tone an odd combination of annoyance and amusement.

“We’re not lost I’m taking the scenic route.” 

 “I’m pretty sure the scenic route is supposed to run along the ocean not through the desert in the middle of no where.” 

“We’re not in the middle of no where we are North of Martinus Corner at the intersection of Cross Rd and and Lockwood Jolon Rd,” she brags. 

“Great you know where we are. Do you know how to get us back onto the main road?”

“It’s not all about the destination, you know, It’s about the journey,” Lucy offers. “When’s the last time you did something just for the fun of it.”

“We go for a hike or a walk along the beach with Kojo every weekend.”

“I know I’m fun to be around,” she teases, “but that’s an errand, Tim, the dog needs exercise.” 

“I see your point but what are we supposed to do in the middle of ranch land? You want to go cow tipping?”

“We won’t be in ranch land for long,” Lucy replies, but half an hour and at least twenty turns later they’re still surrounded by fields and livestock.

“Will you admit you’re lost now?” Tim asks.

Lucy sighs, “Fine, can you please google map how to get to Route 1”

“We were on 5.”

“5’s the freeway. 1’s the scenic route,” Lucy explains. “the one that runs along the ocean.”

Before Tim can bring up the app they’re emerging into a small city centre. As Lucy continues down the main street she excitedly points ahead. 

“Let’s go bowling,” she says indicating the bowling alley sign.

“I thought you wanted to go to the ocean.”

“We can still take the scenic route home, after we go bowling.”

Tim sighs.

“Come on let’s have some fun, make some memories,” Lucy encourages.

“You’re not going to take no for an answer.”

Lucy shakes her head and happily pulls into the bowling alley parking lot.

Several minutes later they have their bowling shoes on and their names entered in the computer on lane 4. Tim goes first and immediately gets a strike.

“You want to put money on this game Chen?” he asks cockily.

“Lucky shot,” Lucy replies. “I’m not betting money but if you win I’ll let you pick the route home but if I win you can’t complain when we take the scenic route.

“Deal,” he says shaking her hand.

Lucy goes next and gets two gutter balls in a row. “Why didn’t we get the bumpers?”

“The bumpers are for kids.”

On her third throw she throws the bowl with two-hands after swinging it between her legs.

“Speaking of for kids,” Tim teases.

“Don’t argue with results,” she counters as her ball connects with the pins.

They continue going back and forth, Tim using the classic one-handed bowling throw and Lucy trying a different technique each time. She tries sitting down and pushing it down the lane, pulling out the ball slide meant for toddlers, standing backwards and throwing the ball between her legs but eventually settles on the two-handed granny throw. 

By half-way through the game Tim’s score is double Lucy’s and he starts to get cocky. He throws with his eyes closed, on one-foot and after spinning in a circle 10 times. 

3 quarters through the game the black lights come on and they laugh at each others teeth glowing in the dark. The disco lights and music follow. Then Lucy who had been giggling and joking around all game suddenly becomes serious. 

“I have two more turns and I really want a strike,” she states. She has a couple spares on the board but strikes remain elusive. Tim on the other hand has three.

“Can I show you? he questions handing her a ball.

He initially tries to coach her through the throw but she isn’t catching on so he steps behind her, puts his hand over hers and leans into her back as he guides her through the motion. The ball knocks over all but one pin but Lucy almost misses it because she’s looking up at Tim. He lets go and steps back.

“You think you can do that on your own next turn?” he asks shaking the huskiness from his voice.

She nods. Tim bowls, then it’s the moment of truth as Lucy throws her ball imaging Tim’s arm along hers, guiding it. The bowl rolls straight down the alley where it connects with the pins and knocks them all down. STRIKE flashes on the computer screen as Lucy jumps for joy then right into Tim for a celebratory hug. He’s initially surprised but is able to catch her and himself before they fall over. He spins them around as she laughs and he’s suddenly really glad Lucy made him stop.

With that the game is over. Tim’s still ahead but the margin had narrowed. They return their bowling shoes and head out to the truck.

“Fine you win this time, we can go back to the interstate but I want a rematch. I’m thinking mini-golf or the arcade,” Lucy says as she pulls out of the parking lot. 

“Nah, go to the 1,” Tim says as he starts to read the directions off his phone.

Lucy looks at him quizzically but doesn’t push her luck. By 6pm they’re driving along the ocean.

---

By 7pm, although it’s not that late, it’s already dark. That combined with her lack of sleep the night before is making Lucy sleepy. When she yawns for the third time in less than 20 minutes Tim suggests they switch drivers. Lucy happily obliges pulling into the next rest stop. During the day it would have a beautiful view of the ocean but now all one can see is darkness. The only evidence of the ocean’s presence being the rhythmic, crashing of waves against the base of the cliff below.

They pull into the abandoned lot; Lucy takes her time backing into a spot, mostly just to annoy Tim and they both get out, reflexively closing their doors behind them. As they pass each other Tim holds his hand out for the keys. 

“I just left them in the ignition,” Lucy explains. Tim looks over to the truck then back to her a look of defeat on his face.

“Your doors lock automatically, don’t they?” Lucy asks rhetorically, “I fucked up.” 

They try the doors just in case but sure enough they’re locked. 

“Well it could be worse,” Tim offers much to Lucy’s surprise, “at least it’s not running.” “I’ll call Angela and see if I can convince her to grab the extra set of keys from my house and come meet us but its going to be a couple hours.” 

Lucy nods. “Thank-you and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Tim shrugs, “we’re making memories remember.” Then without another word we walks away from her as he hits a button on his phone and puts it to his ear. The conversation doesn’t last long. Angela obliges but insists that Tim now owes her one. He thinks she still owes him a couple from everything he did as her man of honour but decides now isn’t the time to bring that up. When he hangs up he finds Lucy has lowered the tailgate of his truck, where she now sits. She’s shivering, arms wrapped around herself, but she’s smiling as she looks up at the sky. 

“You can see the stars here,” she explains hearing him approach, “away from the lights and smog of the city.” 

Tim climbs up into the bed of his truck and removes a stack of old moving blankets from the storage box he keeps in the back. 

“Angela’s on her way but in the meantime we should stay warm.” He wraps one around Lucy’s shoulders. Then lays the rest on the floor of the truck bed. 

“Good thing I left these in after helping Tamara move last weekend.” He shimmies his way in-between two layers then taps the spot beside him, inviting Lucy to join. She climbs in beside him eager for more warmth. With the sun gone the temperature had dropped fast. 

Lucy pulls up an app on her phone and hands it to Tim so he can identify constellations for them while her hands and arms stay hidden under the blankets. Then they lay down and look-up at the stars. Tim uses the app to find constellations, points them out to Lucy, then reads the story about them provided by the app. Meanwhile Lucy snuggles deeper and deeper into the blankets. Tim stops in the middle of the story he’s reading about the the swan constellation as the blankets are pulled off his torso. 

"Stop hogging all the blankets,” he complains pulling them back.

“Sorry, I’m freezing,” she confesses. 

He pauses for a second clearly debating something internally before opening his arm out to the side. “Then come closer,” he finally says. 

She hesitates for a second before slowly moving to snuggle against his side. The possibility of warmth far outweighing any awkwardness she’s feeling. She rests her head on his chest. She can feel his heart racing to match her own and can’t help but smile to herself.

“Better?” he asks once she’s finished squirming around trying to maximize her view of the stars and the amount of body heat she’s receiving from him.

”You're comfier than a pillow,” she confirms, nodding. 

Tim doesn’t respond just wraps his arm around her shoulders. He continues to point out constellations and read the stories in Lucy’s app. 

“None of the constellations actually look like their name sakes,” Lucy says after a while.   

“You have to use your imagination.” 

“I could use my imagination to name my own constellations.” 

He shrugs. “Go for it.” 

She finds a cluster of stars that vaguely resembles a duck. She points it out to Tim then makes up a story about a duck that joined the LAPD and saved the city from a gang of geese. When she’s finished she turns to Tim,. “Your turn.”

He gives her his best ‘not happening’ look but he’s met with those pleading brown eyes that hold more power over him than he’ll ever admit and caves almost instantly.

He points out an X made of stars. “That is where the space pirates buried their treasure.” Lucy looks up at him expectantly. “The end,” he finishes.

“That’s your whole story? One sentence.”

“I’m not as creative as you.”

“Then tell a real story,” she says, “here I’ll go first.”

She points to a jumble of stars. “That is Caligula’s toy chest,” she says then proceeds to describe in great detail all the filthy, horrid things she had seen the day he taught her the DEAR method.

“Why would you tell me that?” he asks when she is done.

“Now you share my pain.”

Tim laughs and points at four stars arranged in a rectangle. “That is the phone that was used too much at work.” He spends his entire story essentially mocking her for always being on her phone. Lucy would be annoyed or insulted but the amount of detail he remembers about the completely benign things she has done is kind of sweet and a little exhilarating.

She next finds a ’surf board’ and tells the story of a weekend getaway with some collage friends that ended with a black eye, a broken board and a lot of great memories. 

Tim follows suit finding a ‘football’ and telling the story of a particularly memorable championship game during his high school career. He’s half-way through his story when he interrupts himself. “You're crushing me,” he tells Lucy who is draped over his torso. “What are you even doing?” I can't breathe with you on me."

“I’m tucking in the blanket so our heat doesn’t escape,” she says as she pushes the edge of the blanket under Tim’s side along the length of his body. When she’s done she rolls off of him, cuddles back into his side then tucks the opposite blanket edge under herself. 

When Tim finishes his story they continue to go back and forth, learning more and more about each other each turn. Lucy tells stories from the time she spent travelling and working odd jobs, from her time as a psych major and her time in the academy. Tim talks about his family, his time in the army, and his early years on the force and with Isabel. 

He tells her about a colleague who despite being a great cop made the mistake of using his radio near an explosive and paid for it with his life. He is the reason Tim baby powder bombs every Rookie: so no other good officers will be lost because a critical piece of information was taught so dryly that it couldn’t possibly be recalled under pressure. 

She tells him about her ring as she twirls it around her finger. About how she found it in her grandma’s dress-up chest when she was six and it immediately became her favourite item. How every time she played dress-up the ring was part of the costume, whether she was a princess or a ninja, a cat or a witch, a clown or a police officer. How unlike her parents, who always thought she’d follow their career paths, her grandma always told her she could be anything she wanted. How when her grandma passed away she had found the ring again as she helped her parents pack up her things. How she had started wearing it to feel closer to her. How as she looked at the ring day after day she heard her grandma’s voice in her head:  “You can do anything you put your mind too,”  “the sky’s the limit,” “do what makes you happy.” How that made her realize she was not where she wanted to be and led to her decision to quit her Master’s program.  How her parents had chalked it up to grief and tried to use psychoanalysis to convince her to return. How that had pissed Lucy off and led to her applying to the LAPD. How she had continued to wear the ring as a reminder and motivator during her training. How much it had meant to her to have it returned. How now it not only symbolizes her grandma’s belief in her, but also Tim’s and her own. How it continues to give her strength.

As Lucy talks Tim rubs circles on her back as if connecting the stars that constitute Lucy’s ‘ring’ constellation. 

Just as she finishes she excitedly points up. “Look a shooting star!”

“Make a wish,” Tim advises.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.” She surprises herself by how quick and confident that comes out. She hadn’t even thought about it, but it is true. In this moment everything is perfect. She is no longer cold. She is warm and happy in her little burrito with Tim: wearing his shirt, listening to the ocean, surrounded by stars. 

Lucy half hears Tim name a constellation “the best boot I ever trained” and start to tell a Coles notes version of their story but she’s already falling asleep.

She wakes up some time later to Tim shifting beside her. 

“Don’t move,” she groans still half-asleep.“

“Ange is here Luce. It’s time to go home.” 

“Am home,” she mumbles before falling back asleep.

Tim manages to free himself from Lucy and the blankets. He shuffles out of the back of the truck and walks around it to meet Angela who is just getting out of her car.

“Where have you been,” Tim asks. 

“Driving.” 

“I mean, what took you so long?” 

“I thought you might be enjoying your alone time with Lucy more than you’d admit, so I didn’t rush.” 

He wanted to argue but he couldn’t. “Thank-you for coming.”

She shrugs. “Honestly, when your baby refuses to sleep anywhere but a moving car a 4 hour drive is not as inconvenient as it sounds.”

As if to prove her point the infant starts wailing from inside the vehicle.

Before Angela can move Tim’s opening her car door and removing his god child from the car seat. He holds the baby to his chest and starts rocking him. As the baby continues to scream and Tim continues to rock, sway and bounce, Lucy emerges from behind Tim’s truck seemingly woken by the crying.

“There’s my favourite little guy,” she coos as she approaches. “You’ve gotten so big. Next time I see you you’ll be taller than your Uncle Tim,” she continues as she rubs the baby’s back. Despite all the attention the baby continues to fuss.

“He’s hungry,” Angela explains. “Give him this,” she continues handing him a full bottle, “I pumped on the way here.”

“You pumped while driving?”

“It’s called multitasking.”

Tim takes the bottle and offers it to the baby who immediately begins suckling. While the baby drinks Lucy goes back to Tim’s truck and grabs some blankets. She gives one to Angela, drapes another over Tim and the little boy and wraps herself in the last. 

Over the next half an hour Tim and Lucy work together to feed, burp, and change the baby before putting him back in his carseat, all while his mother watches with a very amused expression. When he’s buckled in they say their goodbyes, thank Angela again, then head back to Tim’s truck, which is now unlocked.

By 10pm they are back on the road. They spend the rest of the drive cooing over baby Evers and talking about their own theoretical future kids. While conveniently avoiding any mention of theoretical future spouses or co-parents.

By midnight Lucy is just getting home. As she walks through the door she sees Jackson on the couch watching TV. 

“Why are you so late?” he asks turning towards her.

“Long story.” 

“Is that Tim’s shirt?” 

“Longer story.” 

“Aha,” Jackson says giving her a knowing look.

She just rolls her eyes and goes to get ready for bed. She falls asleep almost immediately and dreams of sweets and stars, babies and bowling and a life with Tim.

[jincherie]

fox rain | five

• ☽ — pairing: bts x reader • ☽ — genre: crack, fluff, angst, college/uni au • ☽ — words: 9.9k+ • ☽ — rating: sfw • ☽ — warnings: stop two on the angst train express!!! not as blatant, more reading between the lines here...... have fun! • ☽ — notes: bros... it’s only downhill from here. cowa-fucking-BUNGA amirite cowboys???????!?!?

— posted; 18.09.2020

When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

— • masterpost | prev. | five | next • —

You lay in a sort of placid, bewildered shock, the kind that is sourced from confusion as opposed to an unpleasant surprise. After waking to blearily turn off your alarm before it blasted through the entirety of Dancing Lasha Tumbai, you’d unlocked your phone to find this curious set of messages from a number you haven’t saved. You’ve been lying in place for several minutes as your tired, wired brain slowly kicks into gear and attempts to debunk the mystery. After another unsuccessful few minutes of staring blankly at the screen, you’re saved from impending cranial combustion when your phone lets out a delightful little tinkle and another message hastily joins the others.  

Ah, that makes so much sense now! Except it doesn’t. Actually, it kind of adds to your bewilderment. Taehyung… is texting you? You don’t think you’ve ever in your life had any correspondence with him that didn’t either take place in the presence of Jimin or under the influence of alcohol… also in the presence of Jimin, now that you think of it. You haven’t really interacted with Taehyung outside of Jimin. So it is particularly odd to wake up to a series of messages that are from him, and pertaining to such an odd topic. You’re still so tired you can’t even fathom what would warrant a text from him. Maybe you dropped something at one of your tutoring sessions and Jimin asked him to give it back to you? It would make sense, since after the rollercoaster of a ride the last week has been for him (in particular, the questionable events that took place at the hands of one Kim Seokjin but somehow ended up with Jimin and Hoseok making up? You don’t really understand it but you’re not even going to bother to try to at this point) he has ended up a little preoccupied.

Tapping the screen when your inactivity leads it to go dark, you take a moment to scrounge a response from the empty barrel bottom that is your brain. Once satisfied, you drop your phone onto your bed and flop yourself back to the position you’d been in before your own alarm woke you so rudely. Technically, you don’t have to be up and about for another hour…

With faith that your additional hour of sleep will revive your ability to think, you allow yourself to slip somewhat self-indulgently back into sleep and pass the fuck out like a woman who has spent the night trying to forget.

(Which you are, and did do, except with maybe a little less alcohol than what that sentence implied.)

X     X     X     X

 It has been almost a week since the unfortunate end to that tutoring session on Monday, and while you’ve managed to stay off social media enough that you haven’t triggered yourself by accident in the entirety of that duration, every time you come on campus it’s like for however many steps forward you took, you take double the amount backwards. University students are such gossips! Well, the jobless ones are, anyway. The students that work and study are too busy dragging themselves around campus in a stunning rendition of the undead from various media to be bothered with the latest plot twist in the resident school drama. Which is to say, there has been no twist. The population is still shamelessly up Sera’s ass in the belief that she is the author of the poem, and as has become the norm you find yourself resisting the urge to hunt the bitch down and go in for round two on her face. Surely, your self-control has earnt you the title of a saint by now.

You’re blasting some angsty shit on the way to your music history class and pretending you’re in a music video for some indie band (it’s cathartic, and you will argue that fact to your grave), when you make it a few steps past the entrance to the food court and have the absolute living daylights scared out of you. Thudding footsteps reach you through your earphones and two hands clamp on your shoulders to halt you in place and spin you around like Barbie Ballerina.

“You’re a disgrace!” It’s Seokjin who has halted you in the middle of the hallway, every bit as dramatic as you’d come to expect. “You skipped drama class? And you call yourself an acting major, PSH!”

Yanking your earphones out, you nail the tall, pink-haired idiot with a glare. Very bold of him to be approaching you after you nearly chopped off Lil’ Jinnie barely a few days ago for his bastardous antics. Perhaps he’s getting a bit big for his glittery pink rainboots.

“First of all, will you please listen to me when I tell you I’m not an acting major?” Unfortunately, when you speak your voice comes out more exasperated and less threatening than you intended. “Second of all—very bold of you to be approaching me right now. You’re lucky you escaped with your life, you meddling bastard. You want me to bite the rest of your dick off?”

“You should know by now that I take that as a compliment,” Seokjin sniffs, haughtily, ignoring the latter part of your threat. “And do you know how boring it is for me to crash your class when you’re not even there? No one threatens me like you! It’s getting harder and harder to get it up these days, you know. I need a hit of the good stuff.”

For a moment you’re simply stunned into silence, staring at him and wondering just how and why he seems to have been sent here with the sole mission of making you want to kill him and then yourself. Nothing you could think to say really is enough, so you settle on simply turning and walking away.

Of course, you forgot that no one turns their back on Kim Seokjin and gets away with it.

“YAH!”

You wince—you think he actually just broke a sound barrier, or maybe your eardrums— or both. Seokjin quickly scrambles to place himself in front of you, arms out. His eyes are wide in something you suspect he thinks is a puppy-eyed look, but actually comes across more like he’s trying not to shit himself.

“Promise me you won’t skip drama again!” Seokjin says, pointing a finger at you in borderline accusation. When he doesn’t see your expression budge, he quickly changes tactics. “If not for me, the most charming prince in the story of your life, then at least for Jungkook, that poor virgin—”

You blink, distracted for a moment by what he said. “Wait, Jungkook is in my drama class?”

“’Wait, Jungkook is in my drama class?’” Seokjin repeats in a voice a few octaves higher than your own. “Listen to you, not even knowing who is in your own class. For shame! But have no fear, since you clearly skip so much I will happily extend my generosity and take you under my wing. Tutelage fee starts at $55 with an extra $5 for every question you ask that I don’t know—”

“Do you ever actually hear yourself talk?” you ask, feeling your will to live draining out your ears. “Like, the shit that comes out of your mouth? Do you hear it? Because—wait, are you saying you would charge me for questions that you don’t know the answer to?!”

Seokjin shrugs, “It’s a little unorthodox, I know. But—”

“I would literally be bankrupt! Thousands—no, millions of dollars in debt!” You exclaim, grabbing him by his stupid big shoulders and shaking him about. “Do I look crazy to you?!”

“Oh, what, you think you can do better?!” Seokjin demands, voice wobbling from your shaking. “What’s 2x2?”

“Fucking four!” you wail, releasing him in your despair. You can’t do this, your day only just started and you are not exhausted enough to micronap while he talks like usual. “I’m leaving, don’t follow me. DELETE MY NUMBER.”

“Haha jokes on you!” you hear Seokjin holler from behind you, voice rapidly growing quieter from the speed that you’re powerwalking away. “You never gave me your number!”

You make it to class barely on time due to Seokjin acting as one of the biggest inconveniences in your life, and while you manage to push him from your brain for the duration of it, you wish you could say that is the last time you see him,

It’s probably the fact that you busted his ass being a weirdo with Jimin and Hoseok last week that has him so…. attached this week, you suspect. You’re at your third Seokjin encounter for the day and you’re honestly considering whether you should trip to the campus pharmacy and look for some pepper spray, or maybe an umbrella. Pepper spray would be more effective, but the umbrella…. You can’t argue against the satisfaction it would provide.

You’re trying to sneak your way into a library on the Arts side of campus, one you don’t usually go to, so you can study without worrying about going absolutely batshit insane in the presence of Seokjin. It was hard, but you think that you’ve finally managed to shake him. What on earth had him so determined to tail you today? Was it seriously because you skipped your own class? Nutcase.

You peek your head around the corner looking not only for Seokjin, but for another thing you had happened to notice every time you were ambushed. You have yet to determine whether the glimpse of phenomenally bright floral print right before Seokjin pounces you is causation or correlation, and it makes you a bit nervous. Cautiously, like timid forest animal, you creep around the corner and begin to make your way into the building, eyes flicking from the library door right at the end to the rest of your surroundings. The café coming up on your right tempts you greatly, but you know it is too great of a risk. Out in the open, you’d definitely be seen.

This area is almost like a courtyard, an undercover area between three separate buildings. With a looming cement and glass ceiling, though, it feels like a building of its own. The library sits nestled in the corner of the largest building, and although it isn’t very wide, it spans several floors. You plan on going to the highest one and hiding in a corner near a window.

You’re close, so close to reaching the library in fact that you’ve fallen into a false sense of security. By the time you register the sound of pounding footsteps approaching behind you, for the second time today, it’s too late.

“Ah, y/n! Wait!”

Instinctively you prepare to burst into a sprint to get away, but at the last second stop yourself. That doesn’t sound like Seokjin… that sounds like—

“Taehyung?” you ask, turning in surprise as the boy comes to a screeching halt in front of you, bending with his hands on his knees as he attempts to catch his breath.

“I’ve… been trying….” he huffs, “To talk to you…. all day….. hah…Why are you so….. good at running away?”

He looks absolutely wiped out, cheeks red and sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. You’re just beginning to feel guilty when you notice his shirt, the bright floral print that you literally don’t know anyone else bold enough to wear, and you realise he’s really not lying. Poor Taehyung, just like you he has fallen victim to—

“That Seokjin bastard,” you say, completing a quick scan of the area to make sure the mention of his name didn’t somehow summon him. “He’s been harassing me all day. I’ve had to really up my game. By the way… are you okay? Please breathe… also what did you want to talk to me about?”

Taehyung straightens, eyes closed as he attempts to control his breathing. One of his hands comes to sweep the ashy hair from his face, the ends slightly damp with sweat.

“I’m fine,” he says, sounding slightly like he’s about to pass out. You prepare to take a step forward and catch him if he does, but he opens his eyes in the next second and shoots you a dopey smile. “I’m fine! Apparently just… whoo… really out of shape.”

“Your sacrifice is not in vain,” you say, smiling when he lets out a sudden laugh. Another shaky breath rakes past his lips before he straightens, eyes blinking a little wider. “Ah, right. I was looking for you because, um… you didn’t respond to my text… and I needed to ask you something that’s a little time-sensitive…”

“Your text…” you wrack your brain, sure that you remembered responding to it this morning in bed. Your mouth shifts into a wince, though, when you can recall writing a response, but not actually sending it. “Oh. I am so sorry, I’m an idiot. I was kind of half asleep when you texted, and I swear to god I typed a response but I think I fell asleep again before sending it…”

There is not a shred of accusation on Taehyung’s pleasant features, lips instead slightly curled in a smile. “That’s fine,” he chirps, rocking on the balls of his feet for a moment. “I do it all the time too. I’m just glad I caught you.”

You return his smile, before a thought that had been nagging you earlier returned and you acted on the urge to voice it. “By the way…. How did you get my number?”

Your question seems to be unexpected and, for some reason, flusters him slightly. He reaches to scratch the back of his neck, averting his gaze for a moment. “Uh, Jimin gave it to me. It was for something stupid a while ago but I never needed to use it.”

You raise your brows at what he said, but get the feeling he’s not going to elaborate. Instead, you remain quiet and wait for him to continue his thought from earlier. He shuffles on his feet, returning his gaze to your own. “Anyway, the reason I was trying to catch you all day was because I wanted to ask you something…”

“I know it’s not really any of my business, but I kind of noticed, and Jimin mentioned lightly that things haven’t been, uh…. great for you lately.” He doesn’t even give you time for that statement to sink in amongst your shock, continuing without pause despite the way his cheeks begin to flush, “And, uh, my exhibition is this Friday, and I was gonna go with Jimin but he double-booked himself with Hobi, so now I have no plus-one and I was wondering… if you wanted to go?”

When you simply stand there, dumbfounded, he clears his throat awkwardly, fiddling with the cuffs of his button-down. “To um, you know, take your mind off things… maybe… you don’t have to, of course, but I just thought I would—”

Snapping out of your stupor before he can take back the invitation, you hastily step forward and outstretch your hands. “Oh, no I would love to go! This is really—” you clear your throat, trying to ignore the light sting of your eyes “—sweet of you. I’d like to go, if it’s ok. You’re sure Jimin doesn’t mind…?”

Taehyung seems shocked, and you suspect he might have thought you would turn down the invitation from the way his eyes seem to light up. Have you really been walking around campus looking like that much of a gloomy bitch? You need to check your facial expressions when you get home this afternoon.

“He won’t mind,” he says, waving his hand excitedly. “Great, perfect—um, here is the little info sheet. I’d stay to tell you more but my class actually started a few minutes ago, so…”

“Oh!” you exclaim, taking the sheet from his hand before waving him away. “Go! Go to class! I’m sorry I made you late! Thank you for this, by the way!”

He seems slightly dazed at your enthusiastic thanks and farewell, but he shakes himself out of it and before he goes he sends you a smile that you can’t think of any other way to describe except dazzling. “It’s no problem, y/n. See you then.”

And then he’s off and you’re left standing alone in the pseudo-courtyard, clutching the exhibition pamphlet in your grip. Your eyes sting ever so slightly, and you can’t help but think how kind of sad it is that one person goes out of their way to think of you in the midst of everything you’re dealing with and you’re so touched you’re nearly driven to tears.

Hormones suck and you want a refund.

 X     X     X     X

 Taehyung was right when he said that what he had to ask you was time-sensitive. 

You hadn’t realised it at the time, but Friday was only a few days away— and in the midst of classes, schoolwork, and everything else, those days went fast.  Before you know it, it’s Friday morning and a panicked glance at the pamphlet Taehyung had given you reveals that the exhibition opens officially around 4:30PM. That works out surprisingly well for you, considering your last class ends at three o’clock and you can easily reschedule your session with Hoseok and Jimin. 

There’s a lot about the invitation you haven’t gotten to really dwell on, and that continues to be the case as the day flies before your very eyes. By the time your music theory class comes to an end and you finish scribbling down the last few lines of note from your teacher, the event is even closer than you anticipated. From your recent examination of the pamphlet, you’d found earlier that Taehyung’s exhibition is being held at a small university-sponsored gallery downtown. It shouldn’t take you too long to get there from your house, and on the way home after packing your things, you plot out the route you’re going to take. It’s about a twenty minute trip, as you discover, since there is by some stroke of luck a bus that goes straight there from a street just around the corner from your own. Taking that into account, you should have around forty minutes or so to get ready. 

Considering you’re one of many poor university students populating the area, it’s not often you actually put the effort in to get dressed up. Around these parts, there is a distinct culture of sweat pants and comfortable tops and more often than not a socks-and-slides combo, something you take part in more often than you’d like to admit. Still, you feel that considering the nature of the event you’ve been invited to and what you know of Taehyung’s works, you should probably be putting in much more effort than usual. 

While you might act like a slob sometimes, this isn’t actually a problem— even goblins like you can have a stash of decent clothes somewhere in their cave. Yours happen to be pushed to the back of your closet on hangers that haven’t seen the light of day in months. What can you say? University takes its toll in mysterious ways. 

Standing before your closet, eyes boring into the portion that’s been held in its depths for longer than you can remember, you wonder which way you should go with your outfit. Exhibitions are fancy right? Should you dress it up? Logic says you should, but on the other hand what if you are the only one dressed up? That would be humiliating. You pause for a moment to think about the type of garb you usually see Taehyung in— you have a feeling that he will probably dress the same way tonight. Recalling his bold, avante-garde taste in fashion is about as helpful as one might imagine, but it does comfort you to know that no matter what you choose, most eyes will likely be on him anyway. 

Comforted by that fact, you make up your mind and pull out a set that isn’t too over the top, and won’t make you look like a rat. Once you’ve slipped into those, you freshen up and wash your face, trying to make yourself seem a little bit more alive afterwards and not like you had an 8AM class today. You’re successful, to a degree, but you’re a little tight on time so you can’t really dwell on it. Feeling your stomach rumble as you grab your bag and key, you can only hope that this exhibition has free food.

x — x — x

“Ah, y/n! You’re here! You… you look nice.”

You were so busy staring at the large, shiny building before you that when Taehyung’s voice rings out in greeting, it startles the hell out of you. You don’t even register what he says before you’re pointing with eyes and mouth wide open, “Your exhibition is in there?!”

His expression of surprise melts into one of amusement, a laugh tumbling from deep in his throat. You don’t even notice the way his cheeks are flushed ever so slightly as he meets your gaze.

“Fancy, right?” he says, wagging his brows. “Some loaded alumnus who actually enjoyed his university experience practically donated it to them. So now they use it for, uh… for most exhibitions.”

“For the best ones, you mean,” you say, your grin widening when he scratches the back of his neck, bashful and blushing. “But yeah, damn. I was expecting it to be nice but I wasn’t expecting it to be this nice.”

Taehyung laughed again, clearing his throat. As he takes a moment to collect himself, you let your eyes scan over his form. The second you do so, you feel a foreign flutter in your stomach, heat flushing to your face. There is truly no other way to describe his choice of outfit for today except for painfully boyfriend. Perhaps on anyone else it would look a little less than presentable, but on Taehyung’s model-esque form the loose chestnut pants and an oversized leather jacket over a boldly patterned shirt work wonders. How does he look so effortless yet so…?

If you’d attempted to wear something like that you’d end up looking like the local court jester. Perhaps you should just make peace with the fact that God has favourites and Kim Taehyung is clearly one of them. 

“It, um. It started a few minutes ago, shall we head in?”

Taehyung offers you his arm, a gentlemanly move that completely contrasts the boyish grin on his face. Ignoring the sudden sensations in your abdomen, you make a show of curtsey-ing before you take it, eliciting a laugh from your company as the two of you head to the entrance and the full exhibition experience begins. 

As soon as you enter there is someone by the door, who seems to be at the very least taking note of how many people enter, a table with flyers and booklets beside him. Taehyung parts from you only to move over and grab a few, brandishing them as he returns with a bright grin.

“Here is all the information about the event, madame,” he says, with an extremely exaggerated air of grandeur, presenting one of the flyers with a flourish. You take it, unable to help your soft snort.

“I would have thought I had something better, what with the very artist behind the event accompanying me,” you say, grinning when you see his cheeks turn an endearing pink as he flashes a bright, boxy smile. 

“True,” he returns, folding the other flyer and slipping it into the pocket of his jacket. “You can’t ask a flyer questions in real time. Anything that crosses your mind, you can ask straight to the source.”

“Oh? Then, may I enquire as to what the theme of this exhibition is?” You’re enjoying the playful air that drifts between you now, unable to rid your face of the smile currently displayed on it even if you wanted to.

Taehyung’s eyes flick to you, a lopsided smile tugging his lips to accompany the sly accent to his gaze. “Ah, a tough one right off the bat. I think telling you straight-up would be too easy. Let’s see if you can try to guess it as we walk through.”

You turn to him with an affronted look, having expected him to easily supply you with the answer. Taehyung is a little cheekier than you remember. You snap your mouth shut, cheeks heating when you notice he has offered his arm to you once more. Taking note of the other people in the room walking around in a similar manner, you slip your arm through his and try to ignore the way you feel your ears light on fire.

“Okay, you’re on,” you respond, if a few moments too late. He doesn’t comment on the delay, simply sending you a smile that you can’t quite decipher the emotion behind. You don’t get to dwell before the two of you are off, beginning on your journey through the building and starting on your tour of the exhibition. 

You’d kind of always known that Taehyung was talented, considering he managed to make such a name for himself on campus in such little time with such ease. Hell, he’s well-known enough to have made it onto the list of suspects for the muse of your poem. Still, this knowledge is only compounded the further into the building you go and the more of the exhibition you see. Taehyung is truly talented, the images blown up and displayed on the wall each capturing a certain emotion that you don’t have a name for, yet is so familiar that each time you see a new one it gives you pause. Viewing his works, seeing into this part of him and witnessing this bit of his soul he has bared, you can’t help but feel a slight sense of kinship. 

It’s something that rests in the space between your lungs and diaphragm, something that tickles but also something that aches. You do know this feeling, so familiar yet so out of touch and far from the tip of your mind’s tongue. You do try to guess the theme of the exhibition as you go, throwing out the occasional dumb guess to elicit a laugh— he always laughs, and it always makes you smile— but you don’t quite manage to pin it. 

“The five senses,” you shoot into the dark, standing before an image that has made you stop and stare for a good five minutes now. It’s not quite black and white, and it’s not a particularly unique image— but something about the composition, something about the movement in the two hands that are so close yet so far from actually touching, speaks to that hidden part of you. The way one of the hands simply hangs, unbothered and neutral, but the other, the one slightly closer to the foreground, has fingers ever so slightly outstretched, reaching but never quite committing to the movement and the unspoken consequence of the hinted action. 

Of course, you know the answer even before Taehyung says it. He laughs, hands in his pockets, “Nope, ddaeng.”

“This is hard,” you whine, without much heart behind it. The smile stays on Taehyung’s face.

“Whatever. You’re smart, I know you can guess it. It should be easy, for you.”

The compliment catches you off guard, and you have to turn away so that he doesn’t see your cheeks warm. The two of you had parted when you caught sight of the snacks table; you’d been prepared to abandon him and make a beeline over, but Taehyung had surprised you by marching over himself and coming back with a loaded plate. He’d confessed with a sheepish smile that he hadn’t had lunch, and really you were in no place to judge since you hadn’t either. By this point in your journey, though, the plate is almost empty. There’s only two tiny cupcakes left and you’re letting the rest of the things you scarfed down settle before you go in for more. 

Perhaps it was a little dangerous, coming here with Taehyung. He looks so fine, even while shoving sweets in his mouth, that you spend about the same amount of time looking at him as you do at his artworks. It takes all of your willpower to tear your eyes away every time you catch yourself looking at him and admiring the truly boyfriend fit he has donned for this occasion. Every so often he will simply stand before one of his works, scrutinising it with a fresh perspective and ever-criticising eyes, and the sight of it will make something nameless and foreign well within you. You don’t quite know what to do with it, so you ignore it. Or at least, you try to. 

It feels a little too similar to what you know of yearning. It leaves you confused.

You stop not long after in front of another piece, this time a combination of three images that act as separate snapshots of smaller parts of a larger image. You admire the way he has set it out, revealing not too much but just enough that the viewer gets a sense, a feeling, but isn’t confronted with the message. It allows everyone to take their own sensation from it. You like that a lot about his works— he doesn’t tell people what to feel as they view his images, but merely hints, prompts and nudges. He sets the stage and allows people to take what they need, see whichever bits draw their eye most and spell meaning from elements of their choosing. He’s talented, you find yourself marveling again, so incredibly talented.

But still, you can’t put a finger on what the theme is.

By the time you make your way completely though the exhibition, having doubled back at a few points to look again at a select few of the pictures, you’re still no closer to guessing. It has you deep in your thoughts as you stand outside, waiting for Taehyung to return from thanking one of the guests who had recognised him for coming. 

“Guessed it, yet?”

You turn, pinning him with a look that you hoped didn’t look as dumb as it felt. “Leave it with me,” you say. “I’ll figure it out eventually.”

At your words, Taehyung laughs— it’s one of the full-bodied ones you’ve come to enjoy, where he throws his head back a little and shakes his hair back into place after. You have to snap yourself out of it before he catches you staring. 

“I’m sure,” he says, unable to keep the cheeky grin off his face. It does slip ever so slightly though, just for a moment, as you watch a thought cross his features. “By the way…”

You tilt your head, waiting for him to continue. You feel an odd combination of at-peace, and unsettled. Holistically, this is the most at-peace and relaxed you’ve been in weeks. However, when you take a moment to tune into the inner machinations that make up your being… something in this exhibition has reached into your insides and fiddled around, moving things where they shouldn’t be and touching things that aren’t meant to be touched. It’s odd, and you acknowledge that it gives you quite a bit of cognitive dissonance. Even so, you’re calm enough that you have no trouble being patient while you wait for Taehyung to continue and say what he seems so nervous to say. 

“Um, I know I initially only asked you about coming here, to the exhibition…” he begins, reaching to rub the back of his neck in what you recognise to be one of his nervous ticks. “But, I actually have these vouchers I won in a competition a while ago for a paint-and-sip session that are about to expire, and I was wondering… would you like to go? Now, I mean. Since they actually kind of expire tomorrow. Unless you’re busy, because if you are that’s—”

You decide to put him out of his flustered misery, reaching to nudge his arm. “Of course, that sounds fun! Plus, you were right the other day; I could really do with the chance to relax. Thank you, for all this. I really appreciate it.”

It takes a second for your words to register, but when they do the most blindingly bright smile spreads across his face; he’s practically beaming at you. 

“Of course,” he says, with barely a moment’s hesitation. “I’m really happy you agreed to come— I’m glad you said yes to the paint-and-sip, too, because it’s one of my favourite places. Come on, let’s get going. If we get there at just the right time, we can get a really good seat, hopefully by the window.”

The journey continues, Taehyung leading you through the city while chatting easily all the while, a stunning twilight cityscape backdrop and the gentle glimmering surface of the river meandering through buildings providing the perfect scenery. If you had a little more faith in your artistic ability, you might try and paint the image you see now; Taehyung in the colours of dusk, soft and natural against the bright lights and harsh lines of the metropolitan landscape. But alas, you aren’t as talented as the man besides you, and you don’t even want to think of how it would turn out if you attempted to paint such a thing. You quickly throw the thought from your mind before it can linger and get up to more trouble than it’s worth. 

“Here we are!” Taehyung’s cheer breaks you out of your stupor, bright smile directed your way once more as he stops in front of a large establishment with long strips of window and a colourfully sewn awning. 

‘Brush & Bar’, the cursive, neon sign reads above the door, flickering between soft pink and peach orange. It’s an interesting aesthetic the place has going on, but when you look over and catch sight of Taehyung once more it suddenly makes sense why he likes it so much. The style of this place is very similar to some of the more outlandish things he tends to model around campus. Before your reverie lets you remain abandoned outside, you hurry to follow after the ashy-haired boy, grabbing the back of his jacket when you almost trip over the door frame. He spares a look over his shoulder to make sure you’re okay before he continues, moving towards the counter and smiling with more charm than you can personally handle at the staff member there. 

It’s a woman, who you suspect is in her mid-thirties, and she is pretty enough that it takes you by surprise when she rolls her eyes heavily at Taehyung’s approach. 

“You again, boy?” she asks, though it sounds more rhetorical than anything and you catch the slightest tinge of humour accenting her words and it soothes your hackles. “Don’t you ever get sick of hanging around here?”

“Nope!” 

She cracks a smile, lines appearing at the edges of her eyes. “Well, I suppose that’s a good thing. We’d miss you an awful lot if you ever stopped showing up here.” Her eyes flick ever so slyly to you, and then back. “Say, is today the day you’re finally gonna make good on those vouchers you won? I know you said you were waiting for the right chance to ask that g—”

“Yes!” Taehyung cuts in loudly, eyes wide and cheeks flushing darkly. “Yes, yep! I brought the vouchers! They do expire tomorrow after all!”

The woman, Bora as you now see from her nametag, simply smiles, something sly about the action intriguing you. Taehyung clears his throat, reaching to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly. “So, um… I will use them now. Is the window seat free…?”

Bora nods, a fond curve to her lips now as she rummages around behind the counter and takes the offered vouchers from Taehyung to punch holes in them. “Your favourite spot? Of course. I had a feeling you were coming, too, so I’ve already gone and set it up with some canvases and acrylics.”

She hands the vouchers back, and Taehyung slips them into the pocket of his jacket.  “Paintbrushes and jars are in their usual place, and I know you don’t normally drink while you’re here but if you’d like some tonight just take your order up to Kyungsoo. Oh! And tonight’s special for snacks is tea cakes, so definitely make the most of that. There are some good ones in the display.”

At the mention of food and alcohol, your gaze had already started to wander on its own— you catch sight of the display of cakes and other sweets and feel your mouth water. Ridiculous, since you were kind of full before, but what can you say, you’re a complicated woman. Lots of layers, not unlike an onion. The thought almost makes you snort.

With a gentle nudge to your arm, Taehyung is bringing you back to the present moment and leading you over to the window, where a medium-sized table has been set up with two square canvases and a basket of paint bottles, palettes leaning to the side. Taehyung instructs you to take a seat, informing you with a smile that he’ll grab some paintbrushes and water for the two of you to use. At his suggestion, while he is gone you open up your phone and search for something to paint. Something that’s not too hard and not too easy. Because your skills are… well, they’re not nonexistent but you’re not about to go around tooting your horn in front of someone with actual art skills and talent. Apparently there is usually an image supplied for each night, but Taehyung says it’s not strict and that tonight is one of the nights where all the patrons just have free reign. 

You sort of get distracted part way through the activity, eyes subconsciously seeking Taehyung’s leather jacket amongst the decently filled establishment. It’s really quite nice inside, actually; the walls and general decor are soft and neutral, with pops of colour everywhere that bring each corner and table to life. A lot of the furniture is wooden, natural and polished underneath specks of paint that decorate in layers that tell of time spent well. The lighting is soft with the exception of the bulbs stationed above each table, which are brighter and angled towards where the canvas would be. On one of the walls, the one near the bar, it is completely covered by greenery— vines that, as far as you can tell, aren’t actually fake. A soft, almost jazzy tune filters lightly through the room, complemented by the low hum of chatter and paintbrushes hitting glass. You’re incredibly impressed and, admittedly, you like this place a lot. It has the kind of vibe that just… makes you content. 

“Here we go!” 

You startle at the sound of Taehyung’s low register, looking over to see him placing a bundle of paintbrushes in between the two of you and a jar beside each of your canvases. He takes his seat across from you, smiling brightly. “Did you decide what you want to paint?”

You hum, turning your gaze out the window for a moment to see if it grants you any inspiration— it’s a gorgeous sight, the twilight sky broken by the outline of buildings with glimmering insides, but it doesn’t help much. You don’t know what you want to paint. Of course, there is this big, expanding feeling inside you, the urge to express it somehow filling you to your fingertips, but what do you do with it? You don’t even know its name.

“No,” you answer, reaching for one of the palettes propped up to the side. “But I’ll be okay. Maybe I’ll just see where the vibe takes me.”

The smile Taehyung gives you at that is softer than most, and he eagerly follows suit in grabbing a palette and beginning to set it up; he squirts a big dollop of white, blinking at it for a moment as though he hadn’t intended to put that much. “There are some pencils and erasers to the side there, too. I prefer the moldable one.”

You thank him for his advice, before realising as he puts his own pencil ever so lightly to canvas that he hadn’t told you the subject of his painting. “What are you going to paint?”

“A secret,” he says, leaning around the canvas to grin at you. “Since I don’t know what you’re painting. Let’s swap paintings after, though. I do want to see eventually.”

That makes you laugh, but you don’t bother pushing further. A surprise is nice every now and then, you know. So long as it’s not the kind that ruins your life as you know it indefinitely.

But you’re here to have fun and relax, so you’re not going to get into that. You’re not even going to think about it. 

Taehyung clears his throat, catching your attention immediately. “Right, before we start we should probably order. Did you—”

“No need, my boy!”

Two new figures appear at the side of the table, one a youthful man on the shorter side, the other older and plumper with grey beginning to speckle through his hair. The shorter one places two drinks onto the table, colourful cocktails in a generous glass, and the older laughs before placing down two plates, each with a different kind of cake slice situated neatly in the middle.

“On the house,” the man continues, chuckling at the shocked and somewhat flustered look on Taehyung’s face. “You’ve given us a lot of business so don’t even worry about it. Plus, we heard you were finally making the most of those vouchers so… here’s a little something to start the night off well!”

“...Thanks, Mr Kang,” Taehyung finally manages, shooting them a smile that could honestly give Hoseok’s own a run for its money. “You too, Kyungsoo. Do…. do I wanna know what’s in this?”

He’s gesturing to the drinks, a somewhat fearful look on his face. The shorter man shakes his head, thick brows curved in mirth as his lips twitch into a lopsided smile. “Nope. Tastes good though, so you got nothing to worry about.”

You can’t tell whether Taehyung is relieved or concerned, and so step in to save him a moment of reprieve. “Thank you so much— this all looks amazing!”

Happily, the two men soak in your praise. “I assure you,” Mr Kang says, patting his chest proudly. “It tastes as good as it looks.”

Kyungsoo snorts, but doesn’t disagree. He gives the two of you a small smile. “Right, we should be on our way. You two enjoy yourselves, and if you want refills just come let me know.”

Taehyung nods, thanking them again, and then it’s just the two of you once more.

“Well,” he says, licking his lips and reminding you of a puppy as he stares intently at the slice of strawberry crepe cake, decorated with a generous drizzle of syrup and two fresh, sliced strawberries in a dollop of cream beside it. The other one, a coffee-caramel blend you presume from the heavenly aroma reaching your nose, looks just as good but is nowhere near as successful at capturing his attention. “I guess… let’s begin!”

Whether he meant painting or devouring the food, you end up doing a bit of both. Each mouthful of cake that enters your mouth is announced with an explosion of flavour so rich it lingers long after you’ve swallowed the mouthful down. The drinks, too, are delicious. Fruity but not too syrupy or sugary, you suspect Kyungsoo had used spirits and tempered the fruity flavour with a bit of lemon or lime.

You still aren’t really sold on what to paint, but in the meantime you end up sketching out the flowers that sit on the windowsill a little behind Taehyung. They don’t seem too complicated, and if they end up looking terrible you can just smear the canvas with paint and call it abstract. Of course, part of Taehyung’s shoulder cuts the vase off from view so he’s probably going to end up making an unwitting appearance in whatever mess turns up on your canvas. 

Even though neither of you have any idea what Kyungsoo put into those drinks, you’re sure its something strong. Before long the two of you are already giggly, conversation flowing easily as you put paint to canvas and attempt to make something decent. It’s around the time the two of you are almost finishing your drinks that the conversation takes a delightful turn, which consists of Taehyung telling you about his little fluffball, Yeontan.

“Oh my god,” you say, fingers gripping the paintbrush tight as you try to pet the urge to pet a dog that isn’t even here. “He’s so cute! Look at his grumpy little eyebrows!”

Taehyung laughs, having taken a break from painting to show you his dog like a proud parent. He takes his phone back and slips it into his pocket, paint-flecked hand returning to the brush he’d abandoned. “He’s such a smart dog, but he’s also super dumb. Runs into shit all the time. And there was one time that a friend came over and brought a new camera that he hadn’t seen before—”

Taehyung has to pause recounting the story, he starts giggling so hard. It makes you erupt into laughter as well simply because of how contagious the sound is. “He got so mad, he ran in front of me with his little legs and started barking at it like he was trying to protect me. I love that little dog.”

“I love him too and I haven’t even met him,” you giggle, using your pinky (the only finger you’re sure you haven’t gotten paint on yet) to wipe under your eyes. You don’t think you let a tear slip but you’ve been laughing so much you can’t be sure. 

Taehyung beams at you from around his canvas, brush held midair.  “That’s exactly what Jiminie says.”

That gives you pause. “Wait— Jimin hasn’t seen your dog? But you’ve been friends for ages!”

You catch the photographer smiling as he delivers a few soft strokes to his painting, affection hidden in his tone as he responds, “Yeah, a few years. Since… the last? Second last year of high school? Maybe? It was a wild start to the friendship.”

“Wild?” you echo, intrigued. 

“Yeah. What really kick-started our friendship was this one time I came over while Jimin was really upset about something. I can’t remember exactly how it happened but we ended up at some wack university event nearby. It was boring as hell, and somehow we figured the best way to be entertained would be to commit a mild crime and get away with it.”

Once more, the ashy-haired male has to pause his story to get the giggles out of his system, taking the opportunity to sip a little more of his cocktail. You do the same, not one to pass up much of any drink these days. 

“Long story short, he ended up streaking across the field and earning himself a title at the university as ‘mooncheeks’ or something equally dumb and funny, earnt himself a bit of a nude legacy.”

You pause, the alcohol beginning to slow your mind just enough that it takes a little longer for you to connect the dot between his story and something you’d shoved so deep in the back of your mind years ago that you’d almost forgotten it.

“Wait—” you smack your paintbrush down, eyes wide as an accusing finger is thrown his way. “That was— he ran into me on the way back! Oh my god I almost forgot, that was you two?!”

Taehyung erupts into laughter that is an octave or two shy of being too loud, having to place a hand over his chest to brace himself. He’s nodding wordlessly, eyes pinched shut, and it’s probably the alcohol making your eyes blur but for a moment you could almost swear he’s glowing.

“Yeah,” he finally manages to articulate, wiping a stray tear or two from his eyes, sniffling. “It cheered him up, though, so I think it’s worth the potential trauma.”

That makes you laugh, another sip of your drink going down. A lot of the spirits must have settled at the bottom, because this one had a little warmth as it went down. 

The night goes so easily it’s like a dream, the atmosphere and alcohol in combination with Taehyung’s company making you feel much like you did before this whole shitshow, back when it wasn’t so hard to release the tension in your shoulders or to muster a genuine smile. Taehyung happily gets you a few refills, refusing to let you pull out your card— which is probably for the best because you’re not sure where your wallet is and you’re not coordinated enough to look right now.

You’re on the further side of tipsy, teetering on the edge of pleasantly drunk where nothing makes sense but you’re still somewhat coherent, and everything is funny. Taehyung has almost dipped his paintbrushes in his drink instead of the jar a few times, resulting in a long round of laughter and sore stomachs each time. Eventually, you’d moved his drink to the other side of the canvas and he’d offered you a sheepish smile. 

Surprisingly, your painting doesn’t look too bad, either. Currently it has a bit of a blurry, undefined quality to it, but in your current opinion it kind of works for it. Taehyung’s shoulder did end up making a feature and as the two of you talk you find yourself distractedly painting patterns in the ‘leather’, swirls and hearts and hell, even a few triangles. Eventually, you reach the point where you think that you really can’t do anything more to make the painting better in the time you have, so with a contented sigh you place your brush down and instead turn your attention to Taehyung.

Even as he talks to you and wobbles a little in place, he’s still so incredibly focused in his work, in every detail that meets canvas at the direction of his nimple finngertips, that you don’t think you even see his hand shaking while he paints. Which, your hand was— a lot. It’s the main factor responsible for this one squiggly flower stem in particular you can see in your painting.

As you sit there, happily listening and laughing at each anecdote Taehyung offers you about his life, you find your mind wandering a little bit. Back to the exhibition, and the works and even the way you caught him regarding them. You recognise the critical lens that he viewed them through, because it’s one you adopt yourself for your own creations. Something wells in you, an urge to reassure him in case he ever had any doubts about his own talent; you’re far too many drinks in to be in a place where you can stop yourself.

“Taehyung,” you begin softly but seriously, with minimal slur. He doesn’t stop his motions, but you see him pause for the briefest moment before humming in acknowledgement. “Taehyung, I have to tell you…”

You’re figuring out how to best word your impression of his works and his talent, but you must take longer than you thought because Taehyung lets out a soft huff, giving you a smile that you can’t quite decipher.

“Don’t worry,” he says, flicking the paintbrush back to rest the wooden stem on his knuckles. “I already know I’m not the muse. You don’t have to worry about convincing me.”

For a second, all you’re able to do is blink. Taehyung simply goes back to his painting, expression neutral and his soft hum brushing your ears beneath the soft melody floating from the speakers. You realise quickly that you don’t know what to say to that, and that the full implications of his words haven’t really sunk in yet. He must have noticed that you’d been trying to go around and convince all the suspected subjects that they aren’t the muse of the poem… you feel oddly ashamed, for some reason. Your cheeks feel hot, and not just from the alcohol flush.

“Done!”

Taehyung’s voice breaks you from your reverie, his cheery smile greeting you once more. “All finished?”

You nod, offering a smile of your own and taking the opportunity to say what you wanted to earlier. “Yep. I’m excited to see yours, you’re so incredibly talented, Tae.”

His smile turns shy at that, a bashful laugh tumbling from his lips as he does his best to clean up his area. You do the same, standing up for the first time in a while and having to reach out and stabilise yourself on the table so you don’t fall. The drinks hit you a little harder than you first thought!

“Thank you,” he finally mumbles a few moments later, collecting the brushes. “I’m excited to see yours, too.”

You let out a short laugh at that, knowing that whatever you threw onto that canvas isn’t going to be able to hold a candle to what he made.

Quicker than you can keep track of, the two of you finish tidying and then before you know it you’re saying your goodbyes to the staff and stepping outside. You shiver at the unexpected breeze that greets you, people along the other side of the street huddling together. It’s a windy night and the breeze carries a bit of a bite.

“Oh, right,” Taehyung starts in place, offering his canvas to you. “Careful, it might still be a bit wet…”

Somewhat mindlessly, you swap paintings with him, smiling brightly before your gaze is drawn to the side. By nothing but absolute chance, it passes over the line in front of a bar popular with students at your university, and you almost blink and move on before your eyes halt in familiarity. At the hands of nothing but stupid luck, there is someone you recognise over there. Yoongi stands, face indicating a loud complaint before it even leaves his mouth, and there are a few others around him that he seems to be with who are laughing as they wait in line.

Your head feels so messy, like the wind has managed to get inside your skull and fling everything about like leaves on the autumn breeze. You’re so distracted in the moment that you don’t see it as Taehyung follows the direction of your gaze, and his expression drops. When you jerk out of your reverie, it’s just in time to see his eyes flicking from your painting, to his, and then back to you.

You’re about to peek at his painting and fill the silence with a compliment, but he beats you to it. Something is different about his expression, and not just because he’s no longer under the warm light of the paint bar. The glow you’d noticed so easily earlier seems to have dimmed a bit.

“Did you figure out the theme of the exhibition?”

At his question you startle, gaze flicking to the side as you try and figure it out on instinct on the spot. You’d completely forgotten to think about it, and considering you spent about as much time looking at him as you did his works while at the exhibition, you can safely determine you’re still nowhere closer to the answer. “Ah… no.”

As though drawn like a magnet, your gaze ends up over in the direction of Yoongi for the briefest second. You struggle to tear it away.

“It’s anaxiphilia.”

Even through the inebriation slowing your thoughts, his words reach you immediately. It’s as though your heart has turned to stone and dropped straight through your chest. That unspeakable, unknown emotion wells and bubbles within you, swelling to twice, thrice its size and blocking words before they can even reach your throat. Your eyes are on Taehyung again, but his are still centred where yours had been— had he also noticed Yoongi? You didn’t know they knew each other...

“Oh,” you finally manage, swallowing down that nameless sensation. Taehyung’s gaze slowly slides back to you, dark eyes full of so much… something, you think it would take you years to unpack and familiarise yourself with it all. 

For a second, the two of you stand with your gazes locked, both of you too deep in your own thoughts to do anything about it. Taehyung is the one that breaks the spell. 

“Well, it’s getting late, I shouldn’t keep you out any longer… There is a bus stop here, and tons of ubers in the area…” His eyes flick away as he talks but return as he murmurs this last bit, “Thank you for coming today. I hope you had fun.”

“Of course I did,” you rush, finally finding your voice amongst the shambles in your head. “Thank you for inviting me, Tae. I really… I really needed this. Thank you.”

He nods, smiling at you, but you notice it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Please get home safe,” he says, and you nod immediately, making his gaze soften. “See you later.”

“Bye! Thank you again!” you wave, Taehyung turning quick and already a decent way down the street after his farewell. He offers a wave over his shoulder and you catch it just in time before you turn back, gaze unconsciously seeking out the familiar figure across the road. Distantly, you observe that Yoongi is no longer in line for the bar and has switched to the bubble tea place a few stores down.

Taehyung’s exhibition and it’s theme swim through your mind, a sudden impulse welling within you in response that spurs your legs into a motion. You’re about to go across the road in a sudden spurt of something like bravery, but for some indecipherable reason, you stop before you can get more than a few feet. You turn your head, gaze thrown over your shoulder, eyes seeking without an explicit goal in mind.

You catch sight of him just before he rounds the corner and disappears from view— even from the back Taehyung presents a handsome figure, but in the split-second you manage to view him, the most notable things about his retreating form is the slumped curve of his shoulders and the lowered angle of his head. He’s gone before you can blink leaving you for good this time with nothing but your messy head and the one thought that swims to the surface that says after seeing him glow in happiness for the better part of the evening, sadness doesn’t suit him much at all. 

Clutching the painting, your turn back to the front and try and focus on the present for just a minute or two, like whether you’re going to catch a bus or uber it home, but each time you start a new thought it always brings you back to the odd mix of guilt swirling deep in your gut. There’s something else there, the familiar hollow pit of yearning, but for once… you can’t quite tell who it’s for. 

a/n: thank u so much for reading! i really hope it was worth the wait and that you look forward the future parts as fox rain begins to slowly draw to a close!! pls let us know u liked it w a like and rb and screaming in our inboxes is always ALWAYS welcome!! thank u !! love u !! <3

[theywontletmebeprincipal]

can you give me drowsy headcanons, ramble, or anything please, i am so deprived. do not be afraid to make it super long, the more the better, i just love drowsy chaperone and love to hear other people (plus you’re one of the only people i’ve seen who knows a lot abt it)

ASK AND YE SHALL RECIEVE

I’ll divide this into a few different parts, going from least to most excruciatingly sad :)

1. general headcanons

2. in canon things i noticed and think about daily

3. a full analysis of man in chair’s connections with the drowsy chaperone as an in universe show (trigger warning for abuse ment, alcoholism ment, suicide ment)

SECTION ONE: HEADCANONS

- okay the chaperone is trans I don’t make the rules

- also her name is ambrosia :) she forsook her last name :)

- she’s about 12 years older than janet and kinda hung with janet’s family after leaving her own for a while . essentially she’s a big sister to janet

- aldolpho has some lines where he asks if the bride is big and/or burly and while in canon this is supposed to show he’s kind of a womanizer I like to believe it’s because he was fully prepared to fight her if needed

- speaking of which Of Course janet is ripped she does gymnastics

- my batshit crazy headcanon for this show is that dee dee allen from the prom is a descendant of roman bartelli no I will not elaborate

- is aldolpho one of those bitches with pets that definitely shouldn’t be legal? yessir

- post show kitty becomes a star okay I just want her to be happy

- the “pastry chefs” do discover a love of baking post show and now run a shop along with performing in feldzeig’s follies which might maybe be a front for some crime too

- TRIX DROWSY AND ALDOLPHO WORLD TRAVELING POLYCULE CAUSING PROBLEMS ON PURPOSE

- underling’s name is james I will not elaborate on this either

- show never says what trix does so I’ve decided she’s an explorer. she charts maps and punches colonialists and drags her stupid friends along with her, the only bitch in the show with a braincell

- drowsy was a former vaudeville child star pre transition - she left the business but was a mentor to janet

- I do have a headcanon for mic’s name but in the spirit of every actor who’s ever played him I won’t fucking tell

SECTION TWO: SHIT I NOTICED

- robert refers to himself by full name a lot of the time which is v interesting given he’s named after the writer, bob martin (whose wife is also named janet van de graaf). the real bob martin is like five feet away at all times playing mic

- idk how to describe it but the dynamic kitty and feldzeig (VICTOR felgzeig. we have a name from one (1) line) have when talking to each other is so snappy and funny and good

- aldolpho’s lines in spanish are mostly romantic bullshit but his first one hints that he has/had a wife who, if we’re taking the translation literally, refused to touch him. yeah I’ll bring this up in analysis

- the “pastry chefs” provide liquor for the wedding even though it has absolutely no relevance to their mission of stopping it :)

- drowsy is like. SUPER endearing towards janet and despite her bad social skills it’s super clear she cares a lot about her

- robert speaks fluent french apparently

- everyone says “ew” after aldolpho reveals his affair with drowsy despite her being a certified milf

- the body language of drowsy in the end of the show where she takes mic’s hands and breaks the barrier between reality and fiction is just so good. she was iconic the whole show but I honestly think this final bit is what won beth leavel the Tony in the end

SECTION THREE: OH NO

before diving into the way the drowsy chaperone affects his character, we need to understand what exactly it’s playing off of. to fully understand mic’s attachment to the drowsy chaperone, we need to outline what led him to isolating himself and living in fiction to the extent that he does.

mic’s father left his family at an early age and his semi estranged alcoholic mother was the one who began his love for theatre. mic grew up in a broken household and eventually moved on to land in a one sided marriage, which lasted a few months until he slipped up and expressed his discomfort with the situation, after which he and his wife split. nowadays, he lives alone in his apartment surrounded by records he uses to escape to a better life - his favorite of which being the one his mother gave him, the drowsy chaperone.

symbolism in the drowsy chaperone regarding mic’s life can be split into two main categories - mommy issues and internalized homophobia. there isn’t nearly as much mom symbolism as there is the latter, so I’ll cover that first.

drowsy covers both bases, but she definitely has some undeniable mom symbolism going on. drowsy marries aldolpho and mom dreams of being swept off her feet by a latin lover, both feel they’ve wasted their chances at love, both drink to forget, etc. this is where the idea of the drowsy chaperone being mic’s ideal way for things to work out, a positive parallel, comes into play. given that we don’t hear too much about mic’s mom other than her connections to major life events and the record itself, we can assume they grew apart in one way or another. the key difference is that drowsy finds a happy relationship for herself and retains her bond with janet, unlike what we’re led to assume mom was like.

further elaborating on the drowsy chaperone representing mic’s ideal fantasy version of events is the wedding the drowsy chaperone’s plot centers around. here’s a list of the things that didn’t stop that damn wedding:

- a minister not showing up

- the groom cheating on the bride with the bride

- the bride having a complete mental breakdown

- indirect mafia interference

- direct mafia interference

on the flip side, what little mic says about his wedding indicates it sucked absolute ass. he spent the entire ceremony in internal distress as he went through with a life changing event he, at that point, knew at least a bit that he didn’t want. I think he also implies he had severe diarrhea on the wedding day? it gets worse when you realize mic’s relationship before the wedding wasn’t any good for him either - he was playing along the whole time because it would be cruel not to, right?

throughout the show, mic is pretty clearly shown as an extremely repressed gay man. there are five specific instances that point at romantic and/or sexual attraction to men directly and another moment outside of his commentary that pretty much confirms it if you look a little bit deeper. thus, here is what I propose - to mic, the drowsy chaperone’s wedding plot represents a world where he was able to ignore that part of himself and have a happy marriage with his wife despite all the overwhelming obstacles thrown at him. however, bits and pieces of that internalized homophobia manage to show themselves throughout the drowsy chaperone anyway despite its happy ending. here’s a rundown on a few significant instances:

- by the end of the show, the “pastry chefs”, who had literally been planning to kill feldzeig, have left their life of crime to perform with him. this symbolizes how in mic’s ideal world he would have been able to turn away from what he perceived at the time as living wrongly - his homosexuality

- at the same time, the “pastry chefs” have this line, spoken in regards to janet: “if she gets married and leaves the show... there ain’t no show.” this is a take on mic’s subconscious concern that he might lose himself if he goes on with his marriage pretending everything is alright - of course, as we already know, he doesn’t listen

- “cold feets” is a pretty obvious instance of mic’s hesitation

- aldolpho’s line in spanish regarding the wife who won’t touch him flips to reflect on mic’s treatment of his own ex wife - she was alien to him as a lover, just as aldolpho was to this woman

- janet recalls her meeting robert at a point in the show and states “we spooned, briefly, then he proposed.” though mic’s relationship pre marriage was much longer than that, it must have felt that way to him - just as quick and nonsensical as janet describes

- just as janet is caught in showbiz but has a toxic love for it, so does mic with his own repressed life

- janet has a line in “show off” that alludes to her experiencing harassment/assault: “I don’t wanna be cheered no more/ praised no more/ grabbed no more/ touched no more/ loved no more” , which I believe represents the way mic perceived his intimacy with his wife - labeled as love yet unenjoyable for him

- “I look into his eyes... I get all woozy. and that’s... love, isn’t it?” is another very clear nod to mic’s misconception of love based off the only thing he’s ever experienced, relationships with women he’s had to fake

- this is the part where I tell you the lyrics to toledo surprise are a metaphor for actively suppressing gay thoughts. I’ll just leave you with “if it tries to rise; don’t let it”. these lyrics are not comprehensive enough to make a dish - trust me, I have tried. it’s also notable that they serve a double entendre as instructions on how to beat the shit out of someone, but several lyrics are also directed towards the singer/audience. for example: “it’s a snap/ try it folks/ whip your whites/ split your yolks” is an easy metaphor for the unhealthy mental gymnastics required to repress oneself so wholeheartedly

it’s also worth noting the obvious just for the sake of it - mic copes with all this by isolating himself in a safe spot where he can use musicals to escape and live his ideal fantasy, even if it’s only for a short time. there are plenty of nods to this throughout the drowsy chaperone as well. in “as we stumble along” drowsy notes that “the best that we can do is hope a bluebird/ will sing a song/ as we stumble along” - to mic, musicals are his bluebird. while mic mostly indulges in these fantasies, he knows to a certain extent the sheer amount of time he’s spending in them is unhealthy. the first line of the show is “I hate theatre” and I think that to an extent? he does. obviously mic loves theatre as a concept, that can’t be denied. what he hates is the way he’s allowed it to confine him.

with all that out of the way, let’s move on to the most important moment of the show. if you’ve ever seen the show, you’ll know exactly which scene I’m talking about immediately. I’m referring to, of course, the infamous “l-ve while you can” scene. as janet stands at the alter she asks drowsy for one final word of advice, which is partially obscured by aldolpho dropping his cane. “l-ve while you can.” it’s a simple moment, but mic reveals to us that he’s been agonizing over it for years - did drowsy say “live” or “leave”? it occurs to everyone eventually, whether a couple days after the show like with me, or years after like with bob martin’s replacement on broadway that the most likely answer is that she had said “love while you can”. it’s this moment, when you realize why mic had never seen that as an option, that the drowsy chaperone’s status as a musical within a comedy within a tragedy is solidified. mic had no love in his life - his parents hated each other and he was forcing himself into relationships in which he felt nothing. to him, living and leaving were options, but loving never was. so he locked himself away.

as the final note on the record is playing, all power in mic’s apartment shuts down and the fantasy is ruined. the superintendent arrives and further invades his space, breaking the private sanctity he had built up for so long. she fixes the power and before mic can stop it from happening, the final note of the record plays. and the super recognizes it as a musical. she makes a remark about how much her wife loves musicals and leaves, completely unaware of what she’s just done.

mic sits in silence for a while. and then he begins to sing. gradually, the cast members begin to echo their songs, dancing around him but never touching him. then drowsy appears and sings harmony to mic. and she takes his hands. the show ends with the entire cast, including mic, taking off on trix’s airplane as the curtain falls, drowsy handing mic his record as the plane takes off.

some people interpret the ending as mic committing suicide, finally deciding between live and leave. I don’t personally believe that and neither does writer and original mic bob martin, but it’s still a valid interpretation. the drowsy chaperone’s ending is ambiguous, yes, but not to that extent. no matter what you believe the ending means, it was brought on not by the interruption of the fantasy, but by whatever realization the super’s remark about her wife triggered. as I see it, there are two main options here.

option one - mic realizes he still has time to live and to love. when he was younger the prospect of living as himself was unthinkable to him, yet now he sees that while he was spending countless years alone the world grew. drowsy offers mic her hand, an invitation to finally become what he had admired in her - someone who isn’t anywhere near perfect, but is damn well trying and living life without regret. he accepts.

option two - mic realizes that while he spent years alone the world moved on without him and he’s isolated himself so much from social interaction that he’d no longer be able to make a meaningful connection with anyone outside. so he stays inside instead, never trying, always trapped between live and leave. drowsy offers mic her hand - at least he’ll have a tune to carry with him.

I really want to believe we got option one. I think option one is the intended, really, given mic ends the show with a joyful goodbye to the audience. but the way that the ending is still left open for interpretation makes it so that we can never really know - we as the audience only get to be privy to a small part of mic’s life, and we don’t get the answers we want because at the end of the day they’re irrelevant to us - all we can do is make our own choice.

[popculturebuffet]

Top 20 Animated Episodes of 2020 Part 1 (#20-#11)

Hello Hello Hello animation fans! And welcome to something i’ve wanted to since last year. See I had the idea for a best episodes list back in 2019: rather than do a best shows list, which would be only about half of 20+ shows anyway, I thought i’d do a best episode lists: to give as many shows a possiblitiy to shine as possible while still honoring the best of the year. But my own natural foibles got the better of me: I INSISSITED on watching everything I missed.. then just kept putting THAT off until it was was spring, shows were coming back and I just threw up my hands. I’ve regretted it ever since and vowed, especially since in the interim animation went from just being something I analyized for fun to my analyzing it for fun AND profit, to get it done this year.  So I had to make a few caveats. First I gave myself at first till the 31st of the year and then due to covid and everything that happened, until the end of the first week or so of the year, i.e. today, to watch as much as I could. So several shows are missing. Some I REALLY got behind on and don’t have an excuse for (Craig of the Creek and Big City Greens), others I also really liked but my depression made it really hard to watch (F is for Family and very nearly Bojack), some I just kept putting off ever starting or forgot to start entirely (Hilda, yes even since season 1, Kipo: Age of the Wonderbeasts and It’s Pony) and some.. I gave up because as you can tell I sit on shows way too often (Ilve action wise I still need to get back to Doom Patrol), and I realized i’d rather watch stuff old and new I care about than waste time with something that I just stopped liking, i.e. Rick and Morty and Big Mouth which i’m guaranteed some flack for saying but I dont’ care. I have my reasons, and while I originally GAVE those reasons I decided to leave them out: this list is not about me bitching about why I quit certain shows. I’m a grown ass man, I can quit a show anytime, and given last year was such a craphole, I think we could use less piss and vinegar and more sugar.  So before we begin, a bit about the state of animation last year: It was in flux. WIth a new decade dawning we got great new shows like Owl House, Close Enough, which in a year full of terrible suprises not only FINALLY got released but did so with a second season order, Solar Opposities, the Midnight Gospel and Kipo: Age of Wonderbeasts. Ducktales returned for it’s best season ever. Amphibia returned for a pretty good season. Disney brought back the wonderful mickey mouse shorts towards the end of the year, FINALLY given D+ some non-movie animated content. The Casagrandes got better as it went and just barely didn’t make this list and the Loud House kept on trucking and shows no signs of stopping with a season renewal and a movie coming out. And Adventure Time staged a comeback a few years after it died and while I haven’t seen BMO yet, Obsidian was fantastic and only barely didn’t make the list. 

Not only that but we got   great new series announced for the next two years: Lumberjanes is FINALLY getting adapted and by Noelle Stevenson herself. Gendy Tarkovsky is not only returning to children’s animation but with a wonderously weird concept about immortal unicorns turned into teens> There’s a promising show about a ghost and a plucky tween coming this summer. The Rise of the TMNT movie is still happening. Craig McCracken is also coming back.  But naturally given this was 2020 the news wasn’t all good as we said goodbye to a lot of shows.. and this was after 2019 already took several from us, OK KO still being the hardest loss to this day and Star Vs very disapointing finale still leaving a bad taste in my mouth: Most gutpunchingly, the two frontrunners of animation at the time, shows that truly changed the game and probably gave other shows a chance at life they never would’ve had, including some on this list, ended. 

Steven Universe took it’s final bow after we got one last trip to beach city with the Future miniseries, with the show ending gracefully and beautifully, and having pulled off it’s third succesive possible ending for the franchise and it’s defntive ending for steven’s story. Bojack did the same not long before, ending on a bittersweet but beautiful note and with a one two punch of the series best episode and i’ts second best episode, a satsifying but bittersweet finale we’ll get to. Both shows as I said have set hte standards and tones for most animation after them, and both’s absence is felt.  She Ra suprisingly ended, though with a beautiful and wonderful finale we’ll, again, get to, and on i’ts own terms, but given it was the most likely to take up the shield from steven, it was another punch. Less peacefully was the ending of Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, a show I caught up on after it’s demise which was screwed by the network over toy sales because that’s.. still.. a thing. 

There is a light of hope, as the movie is somehow still in production and if it does well we may get season 3, but it’s dim and given the show, despite it’s flaws, had found itself and the finale, which they were given weeks to put together, was spectacular and, say it with me now “we’ll get to that”, I really hope it does. And that nick learns how to run an animation company for fuck’s sake. 

Infnity Train while not dead, is on life support despite having it’s best season in season 2 and an okay season that still tackeled racisim very well even if story wise the season faltered, at a time when we REALLY need to tackle racisim in our entertaiment period. Venture Bros meanwihle was just flat out canceled for no given reason despite both having as eason renewal order and you know, being Adult Swim’s highest rated and best show for over a decade. Like Infinity Train and Rise there’s a SCRAP of hope, both adult swim and hbo max are apparently looking into ways to bring it back so a finale movie or a season 6 comic are propable, but given the show ended on two big cliffhangers, and given 2020 already had pushed back a LOT of things I’d looked forward to for good reason, and had now just outright killed a show, it was a massive shattering blow and easily the biggest of the year.  But coming VERY close was finding out Ducktales was ending. While the finale would serve as a proper finale, I feel the show easily could’ve had more seasons.. Disney just dosen’t let shows go on forever, or sometimes not even for a reasonable amount.. or put those shows it didn’t let go on a resonable amount on Disney Plus.. and I will be bringing that last part up until Wonder Over Yonder is FINALLY put on the platform, along with MANy other shows. Figure it out.  But yeah that was ANOTHER show I thought would lead the way and like Gravity Falls lead to Ducktales, Ducktales will probably lead to more shows including HOPEFULLY a frank and matt lead Darkwing Duck.. and even that’s in jeapordy since instead it might be done by Seth Rogan’s company who while not bad people and if their working on Frakn’s reboot great.. are not the people who spent three seasons setitng up a reboot in a unvierse they already spent three seasons deftly crafting. I DOUBT Frank won’t be involved since Let’s Get Dangerous was promoted to hell and back, but again given this is disney.. it worries me and I won’t be settled on this till we get conformation of a proper reboot with frank and matt at the helm. 

Point is it was a rough year for animatoin even without covid taken into account pushing back seasons and forcing a change in work habits. But as this list attests even in the worst year in recenet memory, here’s hoping 2021 dosen’t say hold my beer, there was some damn fine animation, including some of the best i’ve ever seen and the shows that did leave or are getting ready to gave us one hell of a show. Before we get started one last bit of buisness for transparency: As I said i missed some shows and others I did watch but given despite this list’s sheer size it was still VERY tight, for the record each show got four nominees a piece, and some had even more episodes considered before widdling it down, and even at the 40 episode mark there were some tough cuts and by the end it was brutal. So here’s the show’s considered. 

Shows Watched: Steven Universe Future, Infinity Train, Close Enough, She Ra, Ducktales, Amphibia, The Loud House, The Casagrandes, Rise of the TMNT, Animaniacs, Wonderful World of Mickey Mouse, Adventure Time: Distant Lands, Solar Opposites, Bojack Horseman, The Owl House, The Midnight Gospel Shows That Did Not Make the Final List: The Loud House, The Casagrandes, Animaniacs, The Wonderful World of Mickey Mouse, Adventure Time: Distant Lands, and Solar Opposites.  Final note: all episode’s i’ve done reviews of at the time of this list will have links in the title to said reviews in case your curious So with that in mind , here’s my top 20 list, part 1.. becasue these posts are going to be long as hell so I needed to split up gang. On with the show after the cut as this is a really damn long one

20. Fragments (Steven Universe Future) “I bow to your strength.. my Diamond”  Steven Unvierse’s final act was a masterstroke. The show ended with every major conflict resolved as the Diamonds decided , if only for Steven’s sake at first, to change their ways and helped him restore the corrupted gems, while Lars made it home. Our heroes were FINALLY, after seasons and almost two in-story years, as Steven “Finally Done, Finally Us, Finally Me”, the last part being especially pogniant since, while done thanks to a horrifying action on whites part, his breif seperation PROVED there was nothing of rose left; She’s gone.  So Future uses this cleverly: With the conlfict of the movie resolved things were still very nice.. but eventually Steven started breaking down piece by piece: As the series went on it became clear what it was: A deconstuction of some of the less healthy part of the mostly fairly healthy and wonderful main show. It showed just what happen when someone whose put his identity into having some kind of destiny, someone whose felt their purpose in life is to make other people’s better and solve their problems and be a good person.. has no issues to solve. Oh sure there’s an antagonist here and there and Jasper refuses to change or admit no third great gem war is coming and that peace really has come.. but his family are finally happy with who they are, and are moving on with their lives. As someone whose had people move on without them and whose clunt to people this hits close to home.. hits close to home a lot. 

So as the season went on Steven clung to everything, taking it VERY badly when Lars and Sadie not only revealed their attempt at a relationship failed after years of build up, and never told steven because they thought it wasn’t his buisness, which is true to a point as them breaking up isn’t anything to do with him but someone should’ve told him it was amicable given the amount of shit he’s seen between you two, just saying. But it still meant a good chunk of his friends leaving town, and him, behind. Attempts to fillt his gap with tv watching or gardneing, aka what the crew amazingly dubbed “Depression Hobbies:”, a term that hits close to home, failed and then a far WORSE attempt to fill the void in his life by proposing to connie failed.. she turned him down firmly, but gently recognizing this was a terrible idea, they were too young, and he was clearly going through some stuff. As garnet put it “Your partner is your compliment, not your missing piece”. Another beautiful term to stick in my brain. 

So as if this wasn’t bad enough his body started mutatating and it turned out the pink form he’d gained was actually supposed to just be his body’s version of adrenline, but since he’d spent years in constnat struggle, his body was treating his emotinal stress like do or die situations with predictable results. We’ll get to that more in a bit but needless to say steven’s family were concerned and Greg returned from managing Sadie to TRY and help his son.. only to drive a wedge between them as Greg’s Smothering Parents seemed like the life Steven never had, instead of obnoxious people who refused to reconcile with their son even decades later despite plenty of effort on greg’s end and Greg having to raise a child alone with only marginal support from the gems at best at first. But Greg’s tragic inablity to see his son was hurting, as with everyone elses lead to him nearly getting them hurt in a car accident and thus this episode.  After getting chewed out by the gems, who tragically simply don’t realize what’s wrong with steven, can’t figure out why themselves and he refuses to tell them, Steven runs off, to the one person who would never tell the gems where he is and the last place they’d expect him to go at his lowest: Jasper. And thus we get one of the darkest and moodiest episodes of the show’s long history. 

After having lost a lot of his sense of peace of mind: his best friends are gone, his girlfriend is next, his parents and sister are constantly busy, there’s no one for him to turn to. Steven NEEDS someone like him and while his family is trying they just don’t know how to reach him and deep down he dosen’t WANT them to. Like me at times, shocker I know, he fears deeply that if they knew some of the flaws about him, some of the problems he’s had, they’d hate him. When as time would bear out for both of us, as my first stint of therapy near the end of colllege proved, it just means they understand you better and can HELP YOU. 

So instead he turns to Jasper, and he does so for good reason: He wants to control his power and emotions.. the problem is Jasper dosen’t WANT what Steven wants. Steven wants to feel godo again and feel healthy and be the person people want him to be. Jasper.. wants a fight. She wants a diamond, someone to serve, someone stronger than her who will LET her be what she feels she’s meant to be: a warrior, a destroyer, a breaker of worlds. So she slams that steven shaped peg into a round hole, and it’s horrifying and uncomfortable to see our hero turned from a loveable hero.. to a power obssed, almost vegeta-esque asshole .. in short she’s made him into the very thing he spent years fighting against, all because he’s so scared of himself he can’t face himself. It shows just how bad things have gotten: that steven’s hates himself SO MUCH, that he’d rather become something worse than face the truth and let his family help him. So convinced they don’t need him that he needs to be something ELSE. 

And so tons of training, abuse and hard labor lead to the moment Jasper and fans had been waiting for: a rematch between the two. And.. it’s easily one of the series best fights. For a series that’s at it’s core about ending the cycle of violence and often big exchanges of words and someone emotinally healing are treated as big as victories in combat.. the show has some of the best fight scenes in cartoons period, and this being the penultimate one, we’ll get to the last one next time, it’s a brutal, dbz style slugfest, something unlike the other fights in the show, with two opponents full of rage and hate going at it with everything they have.. ending in Steven, for one breif terrifying moment having BECOME what his grandmothers and mother used to be: A sadstic monster drunk on their own power “Your right jasper, I WAS holding back”

But when we next see Steven, running into the house and ingoring his rightfully concerned family..... he’s not that guy anymore. He’s back to who he was at the start of the episode: A scared teenager who deeply hates himself and who wants to be better but is ironically shutting out the only people who can help him. And one.. whose committed murder. This was a VERY bold move to make: Steven KILLED SOMEONE. Sure it was  shattering so it got past censors, but in his lowest moment.. steven did the one thing that to someone who treasures all life, is anthemia to him: he killed, did what his mother did before she changed, did what his aunts have done countless times to countless worlds. And it horrifes him, with him desperate to bring jasper back and using everything he has, his powers and his aunts essences, to try and fix his mistake.  And unlike anyone else in his postion he succeeds.. and Jasper, ignoring steven’s attempts to apologize is surprised at first at being shattered, knowing what happened.. befor bowing proudly, FINALLY getting what she was REALLY after: A diamond to serve. And steven can only gaze in horror at what he’d become and at the realization he can’t go back from this and he has no idea what to do now. An utterly grippling, utterly terrifying character piece with some of Zach Callistons best character work in the show’s storied history, with Steven shifting from being drunk on his power to utterly broken at having broken jasper. One of the series finest moments.. only topped by some things the series proper did.. and some more on this list. 

19. Perils of Peekablue (She Ra and the Princesses of Power) 

“They are my people. Which means most of them have sworn revenge against me at some point “  She Ra was easily one of the best shows of the 2010′s. While it started out excellent, and pretty gay, it ended being a masterpiece, and fabulously gay, as is befitting something related to He Man in some way. 

A masterful space opera, She Ra had some great bones in a thrilling love story, great humor, great action and wonderful characters most of them main and supporting going through some form of development. It was a wonderful, magical show and I look forward to Noelle giving Lumberjanes the series treatment, both because the series concept is frankly better built for an ongoing tv series than a monthly comic, and because after this series she has my utmost faith in whatever she does. Also her story about how she both came to terms with her sexuality and met her partner was VERY lovely.  Seriously check it out. Also her partner was the one who co wrote another entry on this list, just a fun fact. Point is this show was awesome.  But as I said part of the show’s strength was it’s character and that shines on this day in the limelight episode covering what’s going with the rebellion since She Ra shot off into space to rescue her best friend. We do get to see the best friends squad breifly, but their simply heading home: With Catra rescued and on the path to being a better person, and firmly in adora’s lap because again this show is wonderously gay and because it annoys her and Catra gets off on that, our heroes are wondering how everyone else is fairing.  So we see that, as with the Rebellion not doing so good against Horde Prime, our heroes seek the solution to their problems with the same solution homer simpson always uses:

Well okay less starting a new life and more getting the help of the mysterious prince peekablue, who I now realize is where the whole pikablue name for merril probbaly came from.. or maybe nerds making things up in the 90′s werne’t that creative. You decide!

So we get the ragtag team of Mermista, Seahawk, Scorpia and Perfuma, as the quartet try to bluff their way to the prince for help. Naturally we get Seahawk being seahawk, i.e. an awesome ham with a voice way older than he looks, Mermista being annoyed by that and being forced to admit she tried out pyromania to see what it’s like, which naturally is the most romantic thing Seahawk’s heard in his whole life.. as well as some VERY charming ship tease between Scorpia and Perfuma as Scorpia enrouages her the two bond and Scorpia finally likes someone who both likes her back and isn’t so obssed with her sorta ex and tied up in her own issues a relationship is impossible. Look I was suprised she found someone else as everyone here, but i’m happys for her. She’s the nicest person on this show and is now dating the second nicest person on this show. It’s nice okay. 2020 didn’t give me much nice, it gave me the emotoinal equilvent of being constnatly stung by hornets.

We also get a lovely musical number from Scorpia about being a spy.. and the revelation Peekablue.. is just Double Trouble. THEIR BACK BABY. It was nice for them to make a comeback for one last apperance and they do provid vallid information.. but prove to not be too useful despite this both due to their habit of being only out for themselves, hence setting up an elaborate cabaret act under the ocean.. and because Mermista got chipped by the crowd, so now our heroes are stuck in a giant coffin surronded by the thing she can manipulate. It’s only through a harrowing sacrifice by scorpia that Perfuma and Seahawk escape but with their sorta partners now brainwahsed to the other side.  To amp up the tension back home.. things are even worse as Spinerlla, whose been brainwashed for several episodes and seriously worrying her wife Netossa... has made her move and with the rest of the rebellion’s leadership gone, chipped everyone but Frosta and King Micah, who dosen’t last long, meaning not only do our two remaning heroes BARELY escape, but the horde now has, between both plot lines, four really heavy hitters, as later episodes would bear out that Spinerlla is basically the red tornado when it comes to wind powers. Point is perils is a fun, breather episode... that then turns into a still fun but also heartbreaking episode as our heroes loose and loose bad and their only hope is in our ohter heroes making it back to htem in one piece. 

18. 100% No Stress Day (Close Enough) “Long story short I owe them three grand”  Close Enough.. has not had the easiest existence. It was greenlit in 2017, used it’s pitch reel as the trailer meaning everyone thought it was MUCH farther along, was meant for TBS but got shelved because the show it was to be paired with, The Cops, was created by sexual predator Louis CK. And since he came up and h’es primarily responsible for this show getting shelved for so long... Louis CK is a bastard. He harassed women, literally and metaphorically waved his dick around to show his superiority, knew he could get away with it, and ACTED contrite when caught and rightfuly punished for it by loosing everything.. then has spent the last year or so TRYING to mount a come back, with the help of Dave Chapelle who I lost ALLLLL respect for in recent years, despite not having apologized or done anything that resembles him having actually learned his fucking lesson or tells me that, could he get away with it, he wouldn’t just do it again. I’m taking time out of this unrelated thing ot make sure he does not get ANY power back, as too often preadatory or abusive assholes get away with this and get right back to doing stuff, like say Doug Walker, who I only bring up to remind people he’s a bad person who enabled worst people and abused a lot of innocent critics, and let htem lovingly euologize a man he knew was a preadator in life without telling any of them about said behavior, which he coudl’ve done without outing the victim to the world against her wishes. Because as another episode we’ll get to next time briliantly put it 

But now i’m done reminding people of assholes, I can get back to what’s really important: The fact this show is a goddamn miracle. Not only is it as good as I hoped, which let’s face it in this year it was just as likely the show would be the video equilvent of scabies, but it got RENEWED. Turns out it’s being delayed.. was a blessing in disguise as it sidestepped being part of a failed animation block, and instead go to be the first adult animated show on HBO Max with tons of promotion. And judging by the future lineup of adult animated programming.. it’s probably going to be the ONLY good one for a while as other offering includes the prince, about life with the royal family, and a show about a 12 year old whose constantlly going thorugh trauma because they apparently did not get the irony when watching moral orel and also skipped the entire third season. And possibly got some brain damage I dunno. Hopefully will lead to much better shows down the line and actually gets a second chance at life, and even if it clocks in at only two seasons, it’s still a damn miracle and I will acknolwedge it. 

So yeah as I said the show is fantastic and was one of my faviorites this year. The show treads some familiar terroitory as it does use the formula from Quintel’s “Regular Show”: Normal problems that spiral into bizzare chaos that still has it’s own effed up internal logic. The thing that honestly makes it BETTER in my opinon, is the passage of time. Quintel is no longer the brighted eyed fresh out of college and menial job guy he was: he’s married with a kid, and that fully informed this project, as instead of being about doofing around in your 20′s, it’s about the pressures of hitting your 30′s: from aging to keeping your relationship fresh to all the perils that come with parenting, to missed opportunities you deeply regret. There’s a lot of good stuff they dig into here, but it never overdies the comedy, simply ads a bit of depth to it. And regular show wasn’t LACKING that by any means, i’m not bashing the show.. i’m just saying Close Enough is starting at the level Regular Show was at at it’s best.. and could easily and handily suprasss it with time it now has. 

And I was first given a good and proper introduction via this episode, as it leaked beforehand due to a french animation festival and I couldn’t help reviewing it, as i’d waited quite some time. But honestly while I like the first episode in the all in the show proper, quilty pleasures.. I feel this is a WAY better first episode and shoudl’ve been swapped with Quilty, as it introduces things even better and lets the whole cast shine, and thus is one of two close enough episodes on this list.  The episode starts with Emily, the stable but stressed and anxious half our our main couple at the doctors office where we get a great barrage of jokes off the bat, from the laundry setting a blaze leading to one of the series best lines

Naturally this has lead to her body constnatly sleep fighting .. while she’s awake, so Josh, her husband and loveable doofus, offers to take care of errands so she dosen’t implode from the stress. This also displays one of the series best assets: While Josh and Emily are an optimistic and impulsive idiot and a stressed out, often voice of reason.. they actually LOVE each other. It’s like a far more healthy of early seasons homer and marge, where BOTH get in over their head but  both clearly love and respect each other, and while Josh CAN be irresponsible.. he still holds down a decent job (Though Emily is more of the breadwinner and her job provides the insurance), is attentive to their daughter candace, and WANTS to be repsonsible. Trust me after countless dom coms where i’ve had to restrain from yelling “GET A DIVORCE” at the screen, it’s nice the tide is turning and Bob’s Burgers has become more of the norm couple wise than the exception.  But yeah so the main group splits up: Josh takes candace and his best friend and local weirdo played by Jason Mantzokus every series needs, and easily my favoirite character, Alex to do errands while Bridgette, Alex’s ex husband, Emily’s best friend and both the bbay of the bunch and the most irresponsible one.. gets her high to help her relax. 

Both plots are really great: The boys and candace run into a ham shortage, a joke that actually plays better in the pandemic age, and stripper clowns because in the series best gag so far, Alex explains via flashback he bet them they couldn’t make a dog, and one did so.. using his dick. 

Just in case you were wondering if JG was enjoying the fact he could use adult humor now, though another part of the series charm is while it freely makes more adult jokes, it dosen’t ever get into gross or dudebro territory. It just means the censors are down and they don’t have to hide beer as soda anymore. They also have to tangle with some hamburgalers who are reselling the meat at rock bottom prices and creating the shortage.. and who deny being hamburgalers despite their tactics being backing up into houses with a large van and stealing hams. OUr heros avoid becmonig meat and naturally end up both in a car chase and then a bet for their lives in a game of Ladder World, josh’s latest game.  Meanwhile Emily blazes it and we get a great getting high montage, as it shows BRidgette’s idea does genuinely help a bit.. until they run into Timothy, the teacher at cadance’s school who I hope gets an increased roll as he’s always a delight and this is his best apperance. Depsite the understandable awkwarndess and paranoia of running into your kids teacher while high, being an open minded guy Timothy offers them wine and then weed and even takes Emily punching him when her trip takes a bad turn, giving her a stern but fair “bitch use your words!” before the next seen has him helping her through her issues with some solid advice, allowing her to arrive in home just in time to save her husband and the cave goblin who lives in her house from clown strippers and meat gangsters.. which sounds like one hell of a gay porno. All in all a solid, always hilarous, always charming ep that shows the series off at it’s best. 

17. How Santa Stole Christmas! (Ducktales)

“No, no.. Christmas is a SAD story?” 

This is my third and hopefully FINAL time talking about this one, though given it has a high chance of showing up on the series best of list, probably not. Not that I mind, this is a VERY good episode, I just don’t have anytihing new left to say. It’s a heartwarming, fresh, engaging christmas special that uses the characters perfectly and for once actually strips down the cast effectively instead of making you wonder where everyone else is, while still giving everyone an apperance. It also has Webby giving Lena (And Violet) an adorable cheek smooch when delivering her parents and I will never not find that fucking precious. Plus it’s gay as hell with plenty of gay subtext between Scrooge and Santa, a sentence I never thought i’d say but i’m so glad i’ts my job to get to type things like that, and said kiss so that helps. But even besides that it’s just REALLY damn good. Again i’m leaving this short both because i’ve talked about this twice now, once when it came out as I do regularly for ducktales and again for my best christmas specials list, but it’s really that good and made it damn high on my bet christmas specials list and is only so low here.. because despite being a terrible year in every other respect we got some REALLY good episodes this year. So yeah this one’s a classic, I love it but i’m tired of talking about it till at least next december. Moving on. 

16. Finale (E-Turtle Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Shreddy or Not,  Anatawa Hitorijanai, and Rise) Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles “Oh and Blue your leader now”  As I mentioned in the intro. Rise of the TMNT was unjustly canceled this year and even worse got it’s season order chopped in half and was given just weeks to throw together a finale. So it’s remakrable that not only was the season pretty damn good, having the series usual problems of sometimes overdipping into the boys stupidity hence the episode where everyone but Raph keeps eating poison, but also had both great character arcs in Baron Draxum’s reformation and Splinter getting more and more fleshed out and more screne time, and great laughs. Seriously Clothes Don’t Make The Turtle, aka that episode where our heroes end up trapped in an 80′s dress up montage, BARELY didn’t make the list. 

And as a longtime fan of the franchise I couldn’t be happier this fresh take, which I was aprhensive about at first because it looked like yet another dumbed down teen titans go ripoff, and given it was dumb to begin with... but instead was a fun action comedy with a lot of really unique and intresting ideas. And despite the rush to finish.. they delivered one hell of a finale and on the high chance season 3 dosen’t happen... it’s a hell of a note to go out on.  First things first: yes i’m counting multi parters as one episode. Not more seralized shows like SU Future or Infinity Train, where events can flow in and out, but stories that are clearly one big story, in pieces like the old days. Since hour long episodes of shows are fair game, I felt it only fair that multi parters around the same length as an hourlong special be given the same treatment. Not that any hourlongs made it this year, sorry fans of Obsidian and “Let’s Get Dangerous”, though both are throughly EXCELLENT episodes this was just a tight list. 

Okay good. So yeah the finale, split over four episodes, is an epic: taking plot threads from all season and series and weaving them into a well paced, emotoinal, finale. Like previous more serious episode the comedy’s downplayed.. but it doesen’t feel like an entirley diffrent show and works well, and the always great fluid animation was kicked up to 11 for this one.  So to make a long story short: in this series shredder is a demonic set of armor, but came back wrong at the end of last season when the food clan revivied him, so while the clan now has him back, they can’t really use him. And current head Foot Recurit, a spunky foot recruit whose failed to rank up despite being tough and ambitious and worthy of it, is at a loss how to reviive her master.  The turltes, naturally, end up accidently blundering into the solution as they head into Splinter’s head to find the info to beat Shredder. The show gives splinter easily one of , if not the best, backstories he’s ever had: While at the start the character was highly annoying, being a lazy asshole who didn’t train the boys and did nothing.. the show eventually give us valid reasons WHY he’s like this: he didn’t like being turned into a rat by big bad of season 1 Baron Draxum and thus has depresion over that, had quit fighting since he’d been forced to be a cage fighter by his ex for a while,  his ex being a giant spider just in case you thought this would be remotely normal an forgot what show we were talking about and genrally just had no horse in the tight training he usually does in most continuties. 

This episode adds another, heartbreaking lair: We find out back when he was Hamato Yoshi, Splinter’s mom left to ward off shredder when he was a boy.. and thus never came back and presumibly died. Understandably he had no time for the clan at that point, constantly defying his grandfather.. and why should he have time for them? They took his mom away for a thankless duty sacrificing herself to stop something he had no way of knowing was real, another reason he never trained the boys. And his grandfather rather than be AT all apologetic clearly, via his actions, thought of this as some great honor and was baffled why Yoshi would have no intrest in repeating his mother’s actions or have any sense of honor, duty or even love for a man who as far as he could tell, threw his mom to the wolves and had no regrets about it. So we see Yoshi as both a rebellious teen and as a movie star throwing out his grandpa.. we see those in reverse of course, but the later scenes give context to those showing why Yoshi was so rude.. because he lost his mom and it still hurts him.  HOwever helping her frees the shredder.. but also Karai who bizarely, in this continuity is not only an aincent ancestor of theres but a firm ally instead of either a deadly enemy or a fremeny of sorts. Or Splinter’s dang daughter, one of 2012′s best plot elements.. that was then wasted by turning her into a snek for a while because that show really went off the rails. So it quickly turns from a heartwarming and awkard family reunion.. to our heroes and karai barely escaping with their lives as shredder demolishes the lair, and Draxum, now a good guy after a season’s worth of wonderful chracter development, and Splinter stay behind, with Draxum cleverly bluffing and pretending ot be evil again.. only to try and take out shredder. 

Meanwhile we get this series take on “the turtles going to teh woods to retreat” as Raph beats himself up for being a bad leader and our heroes learn to tap into their hamato nimpo.. which basically means super magic ninja powers which allows them to bring back their classic weapons and enhances their magic, as it was never in teh weapons but in them all along. Also April gets Karai in her, phrasing, and a glowing boost to her bat.  The result.. is one of the best fights of both the year and the franchise PERIOD, which is what got me to catch up to see the finale because I saw a fan video synching it up to “Spin and Burst”.. and while not a naruto fan.. that song is fucking awesome and that video showed off an utterly marvelous fight. See for yourself

Seriously I wasn’t kidding. I’ve been a fan of this franchise since 2003. This is one of the best sequences in it’s history with or without the added soundtrack: The fighting is fast, frentic, beautfully animated and cool to watch and perfectly combines the series humor, with our heroes giving out quips and callbacks at the right times, with it’s fast paced and wonderous action. It also shows how far our heroes have come: while PART of it is them having super mystic powers unlocked.. they both had to work to reach those powers, and spirtually rather than phsycially,in the third part, but each power is merly an upgraded versoin of their old weapon powers, ablities they’ve spent the entire series mastering, paticuarlly leo who went from BARELY being able to work his portals to using teleport spam here. While they did pull a power BOOST out of their ass, it would’ve meant nothing had they not been anymore skileld than when they started and it makes the fight feel rewarding and impactful. And it ends with the hamot clan as a whole, with new ally foot recurit aka cassandra jones ina great last minute reveal that they CLEARLY didn’t have time to build up better, and smoke that bitch. Also Leo’s leader now bye. It’s just a damn good finale and I dind’t even get into all the great character stuff, including the great payoff of Casey’s face turn after seeing just how much of a monster the man she always wanted to serve is, and how he’s hurting Splinter, who ACTUALLY cares about her well being despite being an enemy. It’s just good stuff that fits the franchise like a glove but iwth the series own unique stamp on it. Nuff said. 

15. Toadcatcher (Amphibia)  “Your not upset because you lost the fight, your upset because you lost your friend! Your upset that Anne stood up to you and things between you will never be the same again.”  Amphibia was one of the first shows I covered reguarlly and along with Ducktales one of the most popular.. so yeah it’s weird it not only is low on the list, but this is the only represtintive. But this was a high volume year for quality and while the show had other standout episodes like gravity falls tribute “Wax Museum”, Marcy’s introduction “Marcy at the Gates” and noir patische “Little Frogtown”, as this list already shows it was a really tight race. It dosen’t help that while Season 2 isn’t terrible.. it’s a bit more uneven, and unlike season 1 it’s weaker stretches of episodes weren’t as easily covered, as instead of airing every weekday, it was a weekly release. Which I prefer, as it means they aren’t being dumped out en masse and are given room to breathe and the passage of time feels more warranted when it’s spread out over a few months intead of a few weeks. It just meant the weaker episodes stood out more and drained on me more.. but it also meant the stronger ones were all the more a breath of fresh air. And nowhere was this more apparent as teh worst episode of the season, and series, thus far, Quarallers Pass.. was paired with Toadcatcher, an utterly marvelous episode and followup to ironically the series best so far, Reunion. 

This episode catches us up with Sasha, Anne’s former best friend who tried to kill her in a sword fight, one where the entirety of wartwood including her adopted grandpa was at sake and Sasha knew this and did not care. She then followed it up by letting go when Anne was depseratley holding on, with the help of her new family, to save Sashsa’s life.. and Sasha let go. I discussed the full implications in the review so I will avoid trigggering anyone, and I mean tha tin the medical sense anyone using it ironiclaly or to mock people using it as it’s intended can get fucked, but she clearly didn’t intend to make it, but Grime saved her and spirted her off.  So we catch up with both licking their wounds from the ordeal: Sasha has decided to take the Jasper route of horrible coping mechanisms and is training constnatly, readily kiling dolls of the plantars but still unable to truly hurt Anne, burying her feelings over her guilt and her best friend rightfully turning on her and then trying to save her anyway despite Sasha trying to gut her. Grime.. is binging on the wonderfully terrible teen soap Supscion Island, coming back this january on the cw, that was intorduced last season and generally not carring the king has his best men, women and nonbinary folks out for his head. 

So both issues come to a head as General Yuaan, scourge of the Sand Wars, defeater of Ragnar the Wretched, and the youngest newt to ever achieve the rank of general in the great Newtopian Army, and she’ll never miss a chance to say that, has come for Grime whose in no condition and has no will to fight back. He also finally confronts Sasha when she snaps at him for it, pointing out she’s simply burying the fact that she lost Anne, things won’t be the same, and she won’t deal with it.  The episode adds real depth to grime, going from an intresting but semeingly just evil overlord.. to someone who worked his way out of a fighting pit to be given a thankfless if cushy job by the same people who threw him in in the first place, someone who to my shock at the time.. CARES about his protege. While allowing Sasha in was simply to their mutual advantage at first.. he’s grown to genuinely care about her as his friend and offers to let Yuaan have him so she can be free. but Sasha refuses. Despite her issues.. she CARES about the old toad and together, and using Yaan’s ham against her, they beat her, and decide to rebuild their army... after Grime finishes his soaps of course. Can.. relate. A thorughly good, throughly emotinally episode that dosen’t lack the series humor but does have a depth and rhthym to it that the series has at i’ts best. 

14. Quack Pack! (Ducktales)  Jesus I was so tired when making this I nearly forgot an entry. And shame on me as this was one of the best episodes of an already amazing Season. Season 3 is easily ducktales best and i’ve been proud to cover it. It’s been my most popular feature and while not every episodes been GREAT, only one’s really not been very good, and none have been out and out bad. While it may be the end of the shows run and not without problems, they still have trouble ballancing the adults at times if not nearly as bad as before, to the point Launchpad just sorta vanishes after Let’s Get Dangerous outside of the Christmas Specail that takes place before the season anyway, and Louie is often written VERY badly.. but i’ve talked about these things all season in my reviews.

Point is those faults are overwhelmed by the strengths; The character ballance is better, several side characters have gotten tons of payoff to their arcs and more development, and the main plot is easily the best in the series history: By having essentially one main plot with two focuses, before they merge at the halfway marker, it allows the season to be far more streamlined after the really messy way season 2′s plots were handled. It just shows the show at it’s best and has produced amazing episode after amazing episode and it was really hard to widdle it down to the ones that got selected here and even then one got left out. 

But one boost I haven’t mentioned is their wilingness to take risk. While past seasons had flashback episodes and what not this one, in hindsight, has some of the more risky episodes of the series, ones you really COULDN’T do in seasons 1 and 2: a whole episode flashback to the twins, basically taking our present day kids out for the whole season, an hour long special focusing on what, to fans not familiar with darkwing duck, is simply a very engaging side character and his new sidekick.. and launchpad (The ducks aren’t OUT of the special, but they aren’t the focus and aren’t around for most of the climax). An episode with really dark emotional moments.. which isn’t unsuaul for a disney show, see next time, but for one so close to their chest it was a lot. They were settled in enough to take plenty of risks and it’s paid off. It’s not to community levels of experimentation, but it’s still nice, intresting breaks from the usual adventures. 

And one of the best and boldest of these was Quack Pack. Taking our heroes and plopping them into a TGIF sitcom. Of which this plot not only happened TWICE this year, three times if you count the entirety of beef house, which I do so let’s call it three, but both cartoon examples are on this list. But both tackle it in diffrent and intresting ways so both got on here.  IN this case.. during a stock plot about a family photo, complete with Donald having his Don Cheadle voice back, we get some great parodies of convetions of les.s. good sitcomes nad even some of the greats: there’s the constnat catcphrases (ranging from a sticomy version of Della’s “On the moon”, to Beakly’s “I’m not a spy.. which sh’es understandably inscnesed to find out is her catchphrase) ,and even the wacky neighbor with our lord and savior Goofy showing up in the roll, as a nice nod to the more sitcom side of the Disney Afternoon. We just get a lot of good gags.. until Huey becomes aware, starting to realize things are off, with his guidebook being empty and things just not adding up. We even get a great bit of him being forced to do a disney channel/that 70′s show dance transtion only to react with exesntial horror.  Naturally, given their lives,a  genie did it, Gene, played by Jaleel White in a pefect bit of casting. Having been imprisoned in his lamp since the 90′s. Gene’s a bit behind on how sticoms work, but was just granting a wish, Donald’s wish, which the family figures out by trigggiring a flashback, Goofy VERY MUCH included. where we find out it was, unsuprisngly Donald’s fault.. though in his defense, and in the best line of the episode, when confronted about wishing for a normal life “I wish for that 30 times a day. How was I supposed to know a lamp was under me this time?”

And we find out why and it’s heartbreaking: Donald just wants a normal family, where everyone’s safe and, most tellningly “No one gets lost.”. It’s the climax of a series long HATRED of going on these adventures. For everyone else it’s fun, thriling, good stuff.. to him.. it’s not only a reminder of what cost him 10 years with his sister and his adopted sons their mom for that time, but a reminder of a lot of pain and humilation. To him he just wants the normal life he used to have back, despite that not being an option and his kids to be safe and his sister not to leave again. Granted his refusal to undo the wish is selfish.. but i’ts understandable. And while the rest of them try to break the wish, and end up fighting the horrifying audience it’s GOOFY who gets donald to see all families are diffrent and that there is no normal: just what you make and enjoy. It makes donald realize that as hectic as his life is.. it’s his life, his family.. and maybe. it’s not so bad. After years of denying how much he used to love adventuering.. he realizes part of him stilld oes and no amount of turning against it will fix what he lost... he just has to enjoy NOW. It’s good solid character development for my favioriote member of the cast, and overall a fun, genre spoofing episode that pokes fun at the genre but reallyg ets how it works. 

13. Growing Pains (Steven Universe Future)

“ What do I do? How do I move on from all the stuff I've been through? How do I live life if it always feels like I'm about to die?! “ So yeah big recap of steven’s emotional well being to get into future earlier, but rewinding a bit, this one takes place with our hero at a low point. Not “oh god I comitted murder what am I now oh god” low as we got to earlier and the series itself wold get to later, these lists make time warped and space bendeble, but still pretty damn bad.  As mentioned before Steven tried proposing to connie, not helped by Ruby and Sapphire both being fully on board, as both are hopeless romantics seprate but when combined as a Garnet their shared braincell can get working properly and has settings other than “emotoinal pain, peppy (ruby), a bit distant but kind (Sapphire) and horny”. While it was as beautiful a propsal as you’d expect from Steven.. Connie gently rejected it since you know, he also wanted to be permafused and their not even legal marrying age left. He’s 17.. despite what this episode claims. She’s 15 or 16. They aren’t ready and she knew it not even ruling it out entirely, just saying “not now”.  But as this episode bears out.. Steven really isn’t an emotinal state where he could properly process that way and after shooing her away, even though she WANTED to talk it over and genuiely make sure he was okay as she damn well knew this wasn’t easy on him, but also knew it’d probably be bad to press him while he was clearly in pain. So like everyone else she made the mistake of leaving.  So Steven’s binging on junk food, and bemoaning the fact that even dogcopter is getting married.. also Dogcopter is gay. Given the show he’s a fictional character in, you THINK i’d of been less suprised but you’d be wrong. Point is steven isn’t dealing well and is going pink and with the gems gone for the weekend, and Greg unavaliable due to being busy as a manager, Steven is getting worse and his body is starting to warp. Thanfkully connie comes to check up on him and insits he see a doctor.. and since her mother’s a doctor and thankfully had a cancelation. Unthankfully it turns out, to Prianka’s understandable frustration.. Steven’s never been to a doctor. Which does make sense, Greg taking him in might’ve alreted authorties to his lack of schooling or his injuries from age 13 onward, plus he had no idea of knowing how his body would react to tests. That being said given by this point in the series Gems are well accepted and known around town and everyone loves and adores steven, Greg had no real excuse by this age especially after the second gem war.  And that’s proven by the fact it turns out steven’s body has tons of internal scars which, due to him turning out to have a wolverine style healing factor, mean h’es alive and without brain damage, but still has plenty of internal scars. It’s a godo metaphor for his mental trauma: he came out of his various happenings ALIVE.. but not mentally okay and with PLENTY of ptsd. When Prianka asks him to list his traumas.. he dosen’t even get past season 1 before she’s understandably horrified, though she’s figured out exactly what’s causing his pink mode: as mentioned before his contstant life of danger and having the threat of a fight at any moment over his head for 2 solid years, maybe 3 given the third light game shows he still had a lot of work to do before the movie and future, and honestly still does at times during both, mean his flight or fight response has been shot so the adrenline charged pink form, meant to protect him from danger.. is triggering for EMOTIONAL pain and suffering. 

Steven dosen’t take it well and keeps enlarging when pressed.. and accidently spills the beans about the proposal... and understandably, even if she was FULLY in the right can’t be around Connie: while she had every right to reject him, it dosen’t mean it hurts any less. Sometimes even when you do the absolute right thing.. it can still hurt to be on the receiving end of that. But Connie is still Connie, aka the most emotinally  stable and mature person in the main cast very much including the sentient space rocks who are centuries older than her, so she called Greg who naturally dropped everything because his son needed him. It shows the genuine conflict, one, again that I’ve grappled with: Steven is so obssed with not boterhing those he loves, he fails to see they’ll help him when he needs it without a second thought. So Greg thankfully calms him down and taks over the failed proposal with no judgement or anything just support. Sadly things go downhill from here but it’s a good episode that turns the entire series on it’s head with some damn good character work. 

12. Annhilation of Joy (The Midnight Gospel) 

“Again? How Many times is this guy gonna die?” “Until he learns”  The Midnight Gospel was a plesant suprise. Penndelton Ward’s return to animation after leaving Adventure Time, the show is a collberation between him and podcaster Duncan Trussel. It was a suprise both in how quickly it came together, and in how it’s real nature wasn’t properly expressed in the trailers: while the series does tell us the trippy adventures of Clancy, a 40 something “Spacecaster” who uses an illegal simulator to visit worlds to interview various people.. said interviews are expercts from Trusseul’s own podcast, the Duncan Trussel Family Hour, something this series has badly made me want to listen to. As such while dealing with zombie apocalypses, a quest to avenge a dead lover, being processed as meat and meeting death herself while looking for his hose, Clancy interviews his subjects, including Death herself, and talks on various subjects related to medation and spirutality, throughly fascenating interviews greatly woven into trippy visuals. Hopefully the show will be back for round 2 at some point as both Ward and Trussel are game, but for now the first season stands on it’s own as a throughly trippy, throughly wonderful blend of Trussel’s words and insight and Ward’s boundless imagination.  And the best of these, narrowly beating out the final epsiode which uses an interview with Truseel’s late mother to inform clancy’s own actions, as Clancy’s Mom is dying from cancer same as Trussels tragically did. But I like this one slightly better due to it’s great blend of the subject with the plot. Once again Clancy is ignoring his pain, and his sister’s calls, by diving into the space vagina of his simulator, taking a weird form, and easily my faviorite of his shapeshifted forms of the season: a living rainbow that wouldn’t be out of palce in a pbs kids show, complete with the fact he makes musuical chimes when touched not unlike a children’s toy and has chosen this form to enter the simulator’s jail.  It’s there he gets engagled, literally, with Bob and Jason. Bob is an angry, upset prisoner who chewed his own tounge out years ago, and Jason is his soul bird, a represntation of his pain bound to him by blue rope that Clancy got tangled in. So Clancy is taken along for the ride with them as every time Bob dies, the celestial beings in charge of the prison put him through weird emtional torment, pluck out his heard and weigh it against  a feather plucked from jason. 

Thus while Clancy and Jason have a spirited conversation about Buddishm and about not treaing spirutality like a game with levels and having to earn progress but as an emotinal journey, Bob goes through a buddishm inspried journey of his own, mixed with a bit of edge of tommorow. He dies, gets tourtured then resets.. but slowly learns to empathize, to let go of his anger and violence and help those around him. It’s an utterly mesmering journey to watch this angry green big headed man go from a violet convict who will gladly shoot and stab.. to a pacfisit eager to help those around him. And it’s thorughly convincing and backed wonderfully by the interview and easily a sign of what this weird and unconveintonal series can do at all cyllnders. Seriously Netflix you’ve been on a loosing streak decisionmaking wise. Make. More. Of. This. 

11. Save the Cat (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power) "C'mon Catra. You're not done. Not yet..."

God that image is unsettling. Anywho back to She-Ra, and somehow this is the second time i’ve had to rewind the progress of a season by about an episoide. Weird. Point is saved the cat is one of the most tightly packed and thrilling episodes of the series.. and the crux of Catra’s character arc.  Before this Catra had hit her lowest point, having lost ..j well everything. She pushed everyone from adora, to the nonambigiously a couple trio, to her own best friends away through her shitty behavior and inferoirty complex and somenoe she THOUGHT was her friend.. turned on her for money. Oh and as an added stomp on the tail all that betryal, all the blood spilled in her name.. was for nothing. Horde Prime made her irrelvant: she couldnt’ manipualte him because a combination of a god complex and an army of loyal drones meant he had nothing to hide and eyes everywhere. She had nothing. Eveyrthing she did every sacrifice she made every worse and worse turn she made a s a person... amounted to NOTHING.  So it was at this point she and glimmer, despite you know killing Glimmer’s mother, were forced to work together.. and Catra sacrificed herself both to get Glimmer safe and because for once.. she wanted to do something right. Her self loathing, some of it warranted, a lot of it already there from an abusive childhood, left her with one option: sacrifice herself and HOPE, something good can come of it, Apologize to Adora, hte one person she ever loved and hope she can at least surivive this.  Naturally, Adora having seen her friend/love of her life has not only REALIZED what she become, but sacrifice herself.. isn’t having this, and after an episode of repairs both on the ship and emotinally, our heroes are naturally, despite any personal hangups with her ready to save Catra. Naturally this hits snags. On Bow and Entrapta’s end, they accidently free a horde clone she mistakes for hordak and, having no other real option and with the guy being useful, Wrong Hordak is born! I love me some Wrong Hordak. What a guy, makes you cry, und I did. 

The main issue though is Adora let herslef be captured.. only to find Horde Prime is a sadstic bastard and has not only chipped Catra, but is using her newfound peace of mind to play with adora’s head, using Catra’s heartbreak from the past to manipulate Adora in the present.. and force them to fight because hey he’s a sadistic jackass with a god complex. They make their own fun.  But Adora gets through to her .. only for Prime to decide fuck it and try killing her with Adora BARELY saving her with her power, and Catra, as she fades, wondering why Adora even bothered. And the why is simple.. as a wise fictional version of a wise president once said “Dying is easy young man, living is harder”. Not the last time that quote will be relevant in this top 20 list, but the point, and it was delebrate on Noelle Stevenon’s part, was to subvert this kind of thing> The bad guy gets redemption but then dies seconds later. Instead.. Catra has to LIVE with what she did and make up for it, become a better person and work for redepmtion, instead of just getting to end in some big blaze of glory. But at the same time.. it’s the better route. The harder one sure.. but she gets to have a life and to undo the damage and maybe for once.. actually live instead of just trying to surivive. IT was the right call in a series full of them. 

But yeah the day is saved, our heroes have two new roomates and Catra weakly greats Adora.. but with genuine warmth for the first time in .. years I guess? I don’t know this series time span. Point is the healing and the ship tease for our finale can begin and this episode is a tense, well put together masterwork. The pacing really is what put it up this far, as it really ratchets up the tension, and being the last season, meant there was no guarantee anyone, including catra, was going to make it. Excellent stuff all around. 

So that’s where we leave off for now. i’ll be PUTTING PART 2 HERE WITH A LINK. once i’ts finished For now watch this space and..

[imagine-docx]

colour spectrum.

Summary: You can only see in black and white, but the moment you meet your soulmate you can see colour. What happens when you’ve been able to see colour all your life and can’t recall who’s your soulmate? [bestfriend!soulmate!au]

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: i’m back with yet another fic, hope everyone is doing well! I also hope everyone is doing their share by signing petitions and contributing to the black lives matters movement - Amanda 💛

»»————-　➴　————-««

The concept of soulmates has existed since the dawn of time. You only see black and white until you meet your soulmate. After your 16th birthday, you could see the entire colour spectrum once you met your soulmate, but if you didn’t keep in contact with your soulmate, you would lose your ability to see colour until you met again. 

Your problem was that you could see the entire colour spectrum, since the moment you turned 16. Your parents explained the colour spectrum the night before your 16th birthday, and when you woke up the next day, your life was filled with vivid colours. 

Anytime anyone would ask if you could see colours, you passed it off as you couldn’t and were waiting until you met the right person. But in reality, you were now 25, and you were trying to figure out who your soulmate could possibly be.

“Are you sure you can’t see colour?” Arthur poked at your side.

“I swear to god, the amount of times you’ve asked me this question is astronomical. The answer will remain the same, which is no,” you lied. Over the years you’ve perfected the acting and no one could tell you were lying.

Arthur laid down on the couch behind you, as you sat on the floor overlooking a file for work. “I came to spend time with my best friend, yet you’re paying more attention to that stupid file,” he whined.

Best friend. How you hated that word to describe your relationship with Arthur Curry. You two had been friends since you met in a playground when you were five, and here you were twenty years later, but with the fattest crush you could ever have on someone. Someone who has a soulmate, might you add. 

“Are you paying the bills?” You asked, adding notes to the margin.

“No-”

“Then you aren’t allowed to talk,” you said, underlining something in the document.

You pulled your hair up into a bun to get it out of your face, and got back to work. You suddenly felt a shiver down your spine as Arthur’s fingertips trace the back of your neck. “That’s a nice shade of red,” he murmured, tracing the petals of the rose that was tattooed on the back of your neck.

Your face was laced with confusion, until you finally understood what he said, “Wait,” you spun around, “You can see colour? Arthur since when?”

“God knows how long. Wait, did you not know this?” He asked.

“No, Art, what the fuck?” You looked him dead in the eye, “Why did you not tell me?”

“I thought it was common knowledge,” he rebuttal.

You turned back around, “How did you survive this long?”

“Alcohol. Do you know how pretty this rose is with all its colour? How did you pick it out?” He asked.

You bit your lip, I went to an artist who had met his soulmate and we worked out the colours together because we can both agree and disagree what would look good, is what you wanted to say, but ultimately a, “I went to an artist who met his soulmate and he worked with the colours and I trusted him,” slipped out of your mouth.

“You got a man to tattoo on you?” He asked.

“Yeah, not a big deal you know.” You responded.

“Anything could have happened, he could have-” 

You cut him off before he went even further, “Art, I was in a shop with like ten different people, I had a shirt and pants on. I was fine. Plus I asked someone to come, but they were busy.”

“But-”

“Nope, we’re done,” you stated, ending the conversation as you made notes on the file in front of you.

»»————-　➴　————-««

“He got mad that you got tattooed by a man?” Harley asked.

It was a usual Friday night you spent surrounded by your friends Harley, Dinah, Diana and Pamela. Usually these nights consisted of getting wasted on someone’s floor in their living room, these weeks happened to be in Dinah’s living room.

“Yeah, for fucking what? I asked him if he wanted to come, he was busy with Mera.” You spat, looking at the cup of Smirnoff that was in your hands. 

“And he still thinks you can’t see colour?” Dinah asked.

“Yeah,” you said, “It’s whatever.”

Pamela reached over and smacked your back, “You dumbass, what if he’s your soulmate?”

“He can’t be. He sees colour with Mera. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but, I am not Mera.”

“She might have a point, if he sees colour with Mera, they can’t be soulmates,” Diana stated.

“Finally someone with a brain cell,” you joked.

“Din, I need paper and a ton of markers,” Harley said.

And that’s how you were dragged into a life chart of people you’ve met and possible soulmate suspects.

“If you could see it the moment you turned sixteen, that means you knew them before. Which means you would have had literally anyone from elementary school.” Harley started, “The moment you turned sixteen, you would have been around literally anyone in high school.” Harley crossed off high school, “Post high school, you kept in contact with Arthur, Hal, Thom, Kalel, and Bruce. Kalel has Diana, which means Kalel is off.” Harley crossed off Kalel, “Hal is not even in Gotham, meaning you can’t be able to see without constant contact from him,” Hal joined the crossed out group. “Bruce is with Talia, so off the list. “Thom is in San Fran doing god knows what, so you wouldn’t be able to see,” Thom joined the crossed off list. Only Arthur was left. Harley scratched her head looking at it. “He’s soulmates with Mera?”

“Yeah,” you said, you’ve come to the same conclusion several thousand times.

“Stranger?” Pamela proposed.

“The chances of seeing the same fucking person every once in a while just for you to see colours doesn’t make fuckin’ sense.” Harley stated.

You stretched out and laid back onto the floor. “It’s fine, I’ll die alone.”

»»————-　➴　————-««

Before you left work you swung Arthur a text asking him if he wanted to have a movie night once he got off work.

You were pulling down your sweater dress with one hand and phone in the other and were making your way to the doors until you heard your name. 

Spinning on your heel, you looked in the direction you heard your name called from. Lucas Trent. 

You two were close during history classes during your years in university, mostly because the two of you sat at the back of the lecture hall with snacks and were self educating because the prof was actual trash. 

“Lucas? Hi,” you said, engulfing him in a hug.

He wrapped his arms around you, “God it’s been so long.”

“How’d you know I’m here?” You asked, releasing him.

“I saw Dinah this morning, and she told me. I was hoping we can catch up?” He asked.

You checked your phone and saw that Arthur still didn’t message you back. “Yeah, I’m game.”

»»————-　➴　————-««

“No. Fucking. Way.” You said, in absolute shock.

“I. Fucking. Know.” Lucas responded.

The two of you were sitting at a coffee shop near your work place, and you were still anticipating Arthur’s text, but to no avail he didn’t answer.

“I never would have thought your soulmate was a dude,” you said.

Lucas found his soulmate while he was swimming at the beach. He showed you pictures of him and Apollo on vacation, and other cute Instagram worthy couple pictures.

“I fucking know man, it’s such a strange turn of events.” He took a sip of his coffee, “How’s Arthur by the way? You still attached by the hip?” 

“Same old pain in the ass,” you chuckled.

“Did you meet your soulmate yet?” Lucas asked.

“I’ve met them. I can see colour. They’re a constant force in my life, but I don’t know who the fuck it is,” you stated nonchalantly.

“I bet it’s Arthur,” he said, in a matter of fact tone.

“Yeah? Join the party. It’s not.” You said, leaning back into your chair.

“What do you mean he’s not your soulmate?” Lucas asked.

“Mera.”

“You mean the redhead girl that was all over him and Selina almost fought the both of them because she thought the two of you were dating and he was cheating?”

“Bingo,” you said, sipping your coffee.

»»————-　➴　————-««

You were unlocking your door and checking yet again if Arthur ever texted you back. You pulled the key out of the hole and paused. No response yet.

You were about to push your door in until you felt a familiar grasp push your door open and pull you in. 

Tossing the keys into your bowl, you pulled off the knee high heeled boots you were wearing and followed him into the living room. You leaned against the bar, watching Arthur pace in front of you.

“So when were you gonna tell me you found your soulmate?” He spat.

“What?”

“I saw you and pretty boy getting coffee earlier, when were you gonna tell me that you met your soulmate?” Anger evident in his voice.

“Why the fuck are you mad? You have Mera.” You retaliated.

“I have the right to be mad,” he said, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Why? Why the fuck could you possibly be mad? Just because I see colour you’re pissed?” You spat back at him.

“So you can see colour now,” he grumbled, pissed off to the max. 

You didn’t retaliate, you watched him pace around even more. He eventually sat down on the couch, looking at the ground, he ran his hands through his hair. 

“Mera wasn’t my soulmate.”

Your demeanor softened, “Art, what?”

“She lied. Her soulmate was Orm fucking Marius,” he said, on the brink of tears. Orm Marius, the man that Arthur hated since the dawn of time. The two of them had ongoing beef since elementary school, you really anticipated them to stop talking, but here they were, still at each other’s throat.

You walked over to him and kneeled in front of him stroking hairs out of his face. 

“Mera met Orm while we were together, and she suddenly saw colour. I thought we were soulmates, but apparently not. I’ve known her for so long, when I turned 16, I saw colours and she was constantly around. I thought she was it. Then I thought about you, but you could see colour after going out with what’s his face.”

You gently stroked his cheek, “Art, I could always see colour.”

“What?” He looked up at you.

“Since I was 16-” He cut you off by pulling you forward and into a kiss. You broke apart when you needed air, he rested his forehead against yours before peppering your face with kisses, which resulted in giggles erupting from you.

“So-”

“He found his soulmate,” you reassured him, “Plus he’s gay.”

His face lit up like a Christmas tree. While getting up, he pulled your body to him. Once fully up he tossed you over his shoulder, “More for me then,” he said, before making his way to your bedroom.

[opbackgrounds]

Alright, friends, you know the drill by now. Here’s Part III of Sarcasticles’ overblown thoughts on sexism in One Piece. If you haven’t already, go read Part I and Part II before proceeding. 

I promise after this I’ll be done. By hook or by crook, we’re getting through the point of the original question. To the Anon who originally sent the ask, sorry it took this long to get here, I hope it’s helpful.

Also, I allude to some very, very minor Wano spoilers, so if you’re sensitive to that sort of thing here’s your warning. 

Characterization? I Don’t Know Her

What makes a good character?

I’ve spent an awful lot of time talking about character designs, when, funnily enough, it’s one of the aspects I pay the least attention to when it comes to deciding if I like how an author portrays their characters. I personally don’t care for fanservice, never have and never will. But unless it’s particularly egregious, I tend to ignore it because there are other factors I think are more important. 

The secret sauce for building characters is hard to define, because a good writer can take a concept that has no right being any good and turn it into something incredible (Oda does this all the time) where bad writers will seemingly slot all the right information in the right holes and still have their characters come out of the developmental oven flat and under cooked. 

One of the biggest buzzwords floating around these days is agency. Is a character active in their own story, or are they jerked around by the needs of the plot? Is their voice heard? Is their voice unique, or do they blend in with the background?

This is particularly important, because the term Strong Female Protagonist has been warped into shorthand for “girl who fights a lot and looks pretty doing it”. You can have a girl strong enough to lift mountains and still have her be a shit character. You can write a girl who’s main motivation is to get married and have babies with phenomenal depth. What matters is execution. 

The Petition to Call A Group of Rescue Arcs a ‘Damsel’

Both Nami and Robin had to be rescued, their main arcs bearing similarities that are impossible to ignore. But these aren’t copies of one another as much as variations on a theme, and with the existence of Marineford and Whole Cake Island I think anyone would be hard-pressed to say that One Piece’s rescue arcs are a girl’s thing. At this point it’s a feature, not a bug. 

Which makes sense given how fundamental the idea freedom is to the series. Hell, the first thing Luffy does after becoming a pirate is free Coby from Alvida’s tyrannical reign. Then he frees Zoro from an unjust authority that would have killed him had Luffy not intervened.

Notice a pattern here? 

One Piece is written like Pachelbel Canon, in that a very simple core of ideas are repeated over and over with layers of complexity and nuance added over time, examining the same themes from every possible angle. 

And when you look at the Four Big Rescue Arcs -- Nami, Robin, Ace, Sanji -- you’ll see that it’s Ace who’s given the least agency throughout his arc. Nami chose to hijack the Going Merry, repeatedly chose to push away the Straw Hats until she reached her breaking point, at which she chose to ask for help, with Luffy only intervening once she does. 

Robin is a little less obvious, but during the post-Water 7 party chapters, Aokiji makes the interesting observation that Robin could have escaped CP9, but chose not to

Remember that before Robin’s backstory was shown, Luffy specifically said he didn’t care if she wanted to die or not, so long as she was with the Straw Hats when she made her decision. No one bullied her into “I wanna live”. It was a choice she made of her own volition after realizing the depths the Straw Hats would go on her behalf.

I know there are people who disagree with me, but Nami and Robin are well-written characters. I’ve expounded enough on my reasoning both here and on my main that I don’t want to spend the time belaboring the point. What I do want is to note that Luffy wouldn’t be able to attain his dreams without them. Nami keeps them on course while also severing as a sort of moral compass for the crew -- remember she was the one who insisted on saving the giant kids at Punk Hazard -- while Robin’s ability to read the poneglyphs is what’s going to get the crew to Raftel.

Robin admittedly doesn’t have the same presence within the Straw Hat Pirates as Nami, but I would hardly call that sexism. Since Water 7/Enies Lobby she’s been pretty content to go with whatever Luffy says, and the fact that she’s literally quieter than anyone else in the crew means she doesn’t get as much focus. I think there could be more scenes with her using her specific skill set, like her investigations in Wano and the forensic anthropology scene in the pre-Jaya chapters, but I’m okay with her being a supporting character. 

The East Blue Crew have consistently gotten the most focus of any of the Straw Hats. They are the core of the crew, something Oda admits in a roundabout way in the Color Walk where they all appear together for the first time in a color spread

With the main cast as large as it is, not everyone is going to have the same amount of focus or development. Robin is given a unique voice within the story because she doesn’t overreact the way literally everyone else does. Through her silence, she stands out. I find there to be very meaningful character development when she feels comfortable enough with the Straw Hats to start calling them by name in Thriller Bark, relaxed enough with her friends to comitt her first facefaults in a series lousy with them in both Dressrosa and Wano.

In an ideal world, Oda would better rotate through his cast, much like how Brook was the unsung MVP on Whole Cake Island (where Nami was also excellent in a supporting role) but I don’t think people realize how hard it is to juggle almost a dozen different people in a story that’s bloated exponentially over time. To his credit, Oda has handled his expanding crew better than most writers. 

I also find it hard to judge this aspect of the series because the manga’s not done yet. I don’t know how Robin and Nami will be used in the future. I mean, Robin never got a chapter title declaring her “The Seventh” which I find suspicious, so Oda could very well have events in store that completely turn our perceptions upside down. It’s impossible to say.

I will acknowledge that the lack of big fights is somewhat disappointing, but neither Robin nor Nami’s dreams revolve around them getting stronger. Robin doesn’t need to use her power to make people explode from the inside out, Nami doesn’t need to fry end-game bosses with her lightning stick. That’s simply not their narrative purpose. With the exception of Tashigi, I’ve found that the female characters advertised as fighters have lived up to their billing. Hancock came out of Marineford unscathed. Carrot’s sulong form was awesome, in the old-fashioned sense of the word. The whole climax of Whole Cake Island revolved around surviving Big Mom’s wrath. Not beating her, not fighting her, it took all the Straw Hats had to just survive. Once again you’re left with a number’s game where where there just aren’t enough female characters to even pretend things are balanced.

All said, I think if you’re going to complain about the lack of Robin fights then I think you also have to complain about the lack of Brook fights, and that’s just not something you hear about, especially after Whole Cake Island. You can’t have it both ways. Either there needs to be more even distribution of major fights throughout the entire crew, or you have to acknowledge that a character’s worth isn’t dependent on their fighting prowess. 

One Piece is a battle manga, and I do think that it’s fair to criticize when a character isn’t allowed to fight when they’re perfectly capable of kicking ass. But it’s also an adventure story, and that opens up entirely new space for a character to occupy, and that’s where I think Nami and Robin (but especially Nami) really shine

That Moment You Realize Humor Isn’t A Universal Language

I’ve spent so much time defending Oda’s designs and characters that it might seem like I’m perfectly okay with everything that’s portrayed in the manga. To be clear, I’m not. If the messages and comments I’ve gotten over the past several days have taught me anything, it’s that many fans share the same sticking points I do, namely in regards to some of the gags. 

I again want to be careful here, because I’m hardly an expert on Japanese culture and it’s really hard to tell if Oda writes his jokes because he thinks they’re funny, or if he thinks his audience will find them funny. I’m again going to default to somewhere in the middle, because if Oda truly found the perviness distasteful he probably wouldn’t have included it, and I’ve read enough SBS to know the guy likes his dick jokes. 

First and foremost, one must address the culture gap. Japan ranks last among G7 nations on gender equality, In 2004 two-thirds of Tokyo women in their 20-30s reported to being groped while on public transport. There are numerous barriers that make it difficult for a woman to succeed either in the workplace or politics. 

From what I can gather, some of these trends are reversing, albeit slowly and with great resistance. Contrary to what many people seem to believe culture is not always value neutral. And I say that as an American, recognizing there are plenty of things about my culture and country that are really fucked up. 

But who gets to decide who’s right and who’s wrong?

When inside that kind of environment, that kind of culture, it’s a lot easier to understand how a character like Sanji can exist. It’s easy to understand why Momo shoving his face into Nami and Robin’s boobs might be played for laughs. It’s not an excuse, but an explanation. And with Sanji failing more often than not, being the butt of his own joke as he slowly turns into a parody of what he once was, one could almost say Oda is pointing those types of people and saying, “Look how pathetic this guy is. Now go laugh as he gets a nosebleed so bad he needs multiple blood transfusions in order to not die.”

I say almost, because Sanji is never condemned for his actions, nor does he learn from them. Instead you have this character who’s supposed to be one of the kindest characters in the series decide to immediately go peep on a woman’s bath house after gaining the power of invisibility. 

Stay classy, Oda.

As distasteful as I find it, I don’t find fanservice to be an inherently evil thing that must be eradicated at all costs, and with Oda doing things like putting his entire cast, male and female, into skintight leathers you can hardly say that he’s excluding the men. 

Everyone will have their line in the sand, and mine goes back to agency. When Nami did her Happiness Punch way back in Alabasta, that was of her own volition. When Nami and Robin dress in clothes that show everything but the nipple, that’s something they chose and feel comfortable in. 

But when Smoker and Tashigi swapped bodies at Punk Hazard, Tashigi specifically asked Smoker not to strip, and he did anyway, opening her coat and removing her bra. This is especially egregious as Tashigi is one of the very few women in the series who is always shown wearing very conservative clothing. Oda specifically showed Tashigi getting upset at Smoker’s actions, and Smoker repeatedly refusing to listen to her.   

That’s where I draw my line. 

Some Final Thoughts I Couldn’t Fit Anywhere Else 

Thought The First--Oda has an interesting habit of turning his most despicable, scummy pieces of flaming human garbage into the butt of the joke. Villains like Crocodile and Doflamingo are certainly evil, but it’s the idealized, cool type of evil that makes you almost admire them. There aren’t very many real-world Crocodiles, but just about everyone knows a Spandam, or an Absalom, or a Vander Decken. These kinds of villains aren’t scary because of their physical prowess, but their unyielding obsessions and the power they’re able to wring from the system, and -- surprise, surprise -- all three are either actively trying to be creepy sex pests or coded as such with the visual language of the comic.   

And Oda turns them into a mockery. 

While there are some who feel like not treating serious issues like sexual assault seriously are doing a disservice to people who have endured similar experiences I think there’s merit to turning them into a laughingstock. As someone much smarter than me said once, if an opinion cannot withstand mockery it’s revealed to be ridiculous, and these scummy-scum villains are certainly ridiculous.

Thought The Second--It’s hard to say how much sexism is a thing in-universe. Kuina is the only one who is explicitly told her dreams were impossible because of her gender, but with the recent reveal confirming that her family came from Wano, which in turn is based on Feudal Japan, it’s hard to say how widespread these beliefs are. Tashigi brought it up again at Loguetown and Bellemere specifically told her girls that they lived in an era where “girls needed to be strong, too”, but otherwise it’s not a topic that’s been explored in any depth

Thought The Third--The in-universe fetishization of mermaids has some implications that I think are unintended but worth discussing. Shirahoshi has a reputation of being one of the most beautiful women in the world despite not leaving her tower for over 10 years (she’s 16). Mermaids whose tails have split are worth less on the slave market than those whose are intact. Even Zoro erased Kokoro from his memory after meeting the more attractive Caime. It’s one of those odd things that when combined with the more obvious racism themes could have some unfortunate implications, and I think could have been avoided had Oda show a little more restraint with some of his jokes. Unintended consequences are still consequences. 

Thought The Forth--There are many other instances throughout the series that people bring up with talking about sexism in One Piece. I feel like a lot of these can be explained away individually -- for example, both Belo Betty and Rebecca’s stripperific outfits were inspired by other media, the painting Liberty of the People and Red Sonja respectively; Lola chasing after an obviously abusive man makes a whole lot more sense when you meet Big Mom; Hancock’s love sickness could be seen as an emotionally stunted woman experiencing her first crush, etc., etc -- it’s when they’re all put together that they begin to read as “Problematic”. 

It would be impossible to go over all these individually, but I tend to fall on the side of leniency. In the end, everyone has to make their own decisions based on their own values. I’m hardly unbiased, and my enjoyment for the series will undoubtedly make me look the other way when another might call the exact same incident The Worst Thing Ever. The thing is, opinions are like assholes, everyone has one and most are convinced that theirs don’t stink. I include myself in that statement. In the end it’s a comic for kids. It’s supposed to be fun. 

Thought The Last--I have spent entirely too much of my time writing this up, but in the end I guess I have to go back to what I said when I talked about my thoughts on Sanji: Everyone has their own personal line of acceptable bullshit, and for me Oda does more good than bad. Sanji specifically gets very little leniency from me because I don’t like a lot of the gross behavior Oda passes over as a joke. But the female characters themselves, generally speaking? They’re fine. There are other mangaka that have more equal male to female ratios or have women play more active roles in the story, but Oda does a lot better than most other shonen titles I’ve read. 

It’s okay to be critical of media you enjoy. It’s okay to complain. But remember that One Piece is a very long series, and there are some fans who have been a round for literally decades. I myself started reading weekly around the time Duval was introduced, way back in 2008. Every time a new batch of fans comes in the same old arguments get stirred to the top of the pot: Sanji is a creep, Oda can’t draw women, why doesn’t Robin ever get to fight?

It can be exhausting to go through the same hoops time and time again. So if you’re someone who is being critical and feel like no one is listening, or that a bunch of fans are going out of their way to defend Oda, that could be one of the reasons why. They’re tired of having a series they enjoy be shit on. 

There are other fans who legitimately don’t think that Oda’s done anything wrong, that jokes are just jokes. If you happen to fall in that category, remember that not everyone feels that way. Art reflects life, which in turn reflects art. One Piece is a few million copies away from outselling Batman. To say it isn’t influential to young readers, both in Japan and abroad, is beyond asinine. 

I thank everyone who’s taken the time to read this so far. I’ve been pleasantly surprised by how civil the discussion and my inbox as stayed. Even if I didn’t respond to your message, I promise that I did read it. 

I wrote as much as I did because I know this is a topic a lot of people care about, and also so I hopefully don’t have to write about it again. A lot of hours has gone into this project, and it’s been exhausting, but in a good way, if that makes any sense. I’m ready to put it to rest. 

I was joking with some friends that I think I’ve hit just about every hot topic issue now, so hopefully I can go back to fun questions like speculating if Wapol can eat a person and poop out a devil fruit. 

Until then, Sarcasticles, out         

[bigskydreaming]

Hey friendly reminder that I honestly do not want anyone to follow me unless they actually WANT to which means they are free to unfollow, refollow, leave and come back and leave again or WHATEVER as many times as they want, for any reason whatsoever. Including if my posting styles of the moment get to be too much for them or are not to their liking, etc?

BUT I have been seeing a surge in comments in notes and stuff on various posts of mine about the length of my posts or the rambling of my posts and like....I know? This is not new information to me? But I post the way I post at any given time based on the resources I have at any given time and the fact that its often a matter of I can post a long rambling post or I can make no post at all.

Like, I really truly do not like going into specifics about my situation more than necessary or when not necessary, because like, my situation is boring to me, I don’t particularly care to dwell on it any more than I have to. But the fact of the matter is its still a thing that exists so here goes: yes I have physical issues like near constant migraines and pain and also vertigo, and yes I have neurodivergencies like C-PTSD and ADHD and yes I have circumstances that include near constant stress from eternally being in the negatives, financially, as well as being almost constantly hungry from a lack of money and limited options for eating due to the physical constraints of my jaw as well as being consistently sleep deprived because there’s only so much sleep you can get when there’s no such thing as a physically comfortable sleeping arrangement for you currently, all while existing in a constant limbo of I literally have NO idea when any of this will change for me because haha fun fact WE LIVE IN A PANDEMIC.

My point is like......all of these are things I’m not shy about, but they don’t exist as bullet points in a checklist of identity or circumstantial traits, they all exist at all times as points of fact that influence and inform and interact with each other.

So my financial situation and limbo of not being able to move forward with my surgery because of the chaos of the health care industry during a pandemic directly informs both the way stress impacts my mental health issues, but also my ability to treat my mental health issues by way of medication, nutrition, rest.....ie, almost every cent I make via work, etc, goes right back out the door to keeping up my insurance premiums of $850 a month, because even though my surgery is paid for, there’s still elements like hospital stay fees, anesthesia, etc, that won’t be paid until the day of surgery itself, and which I will not be able to pay without my insurance remaining current and active. Which means that I had to prioritize an insurance package that would net me THOSE benefits, which means I had to sacrifice parts of insurance that are no longer in that package, but which previously made things like my medications, refill appointments and therapy more affordable for me. 

Which means that I have to prioritize my medication and therapy etc and maintain my therapy and PTSD, depression and anxiety meds as the most important to upkeep, while my ADHD meds are pretty much priced out of accessibility for me at the moment. Like, the specifics of my metabolism and various trial and error with different meds over the years and the way my body rapidly adapts to various meds and plateaus to a point where they cease to have any real impact on me means the only ADHD medication that’s consistently effective for me is Vyvanse, which there isn’t a viable generic form of that I can take, meaning a monthly refill of it is $350 without insurance, which I flat out can not ever afford anymore, which means its been roughly two months since I last popped an ADHD pill.

So yeah, that directly impacts things like my ability to self-edit, make a point briefly, or refrain from circling back to the same point several times over and over because I literally forget that I made it.

Now of course ADHD medication is not the be-all and end-all and its not like there aren’t various other life-hacks and coping strategies for working around ADHD even without it, after all, I didn’t even get diagnosed until I was 26. But these various other adaptations rely on things like good nutrition (which I can not regularly afford, or even consume....most leafy green vegetables for example, or fruits other than berries, are literally nonstarters for me because I don’t have enough leverage with my one-sided jaw to CHEW them in the first place, and the ingredients for making smoothies regularly are again, expensive). So nutrition as a hack for ADHD management is pretty much out - I’m too busy prioritizing eating anything I can, whenever I can afford to. Other adaptations involve getting lots of rest: something that again, physically isn’t all that viable for me these days, even leaving aside the effects of constant stress on attempts at getting meaningful rest, along with the constant stress and constraints of trying to work as much as humanly possible in my circumstances, in order to keep bringing in income to go to insurance, rent, and food and meds. Then there’s also the stabilizing effects exercise and physical activity can have on the brain and various neurodivergencies like mine, but the migraines and vertigo make most forms of exercise a nonstarter for me, with most of the rest invalidated by the fact that I’m pretty much always hungry, tired, and in chronic pain.

Now let’s examine work and the viability of obtaining more sources of income to help with all this. Well, my options are limited there too due to the ecosystem of factors in play. I’ve been trying for awhile to find even a part time job in my area I can do, but the problems are even though I can make myself mobile and active through my pain issues and migraines, and am even good at gritting and bearing it and acting like I’m smiling and laughing and happy even while in excruciating pain (yay, perks of childhood abuse making a career in retail viable even while practically dead on my feet, lololol)......there’s the simple physiological limitation that I just can’t stay upright RELIABLY for more than a couple hours at a time. Eventually, dizziness knocks me on my ass. Downside of a jaw that’s constantly hanging with all its weight from one side of your face, fucking with your ability to even stand up straight, not to mention causing inner ear and equilibrium problems at random whenever you open or close your mouth in the wrong way (or mere approximation of ANY kind of way).

So, standing upright at any kind of customer service or retail job is one issue. Stocking stuff, that sort of thing.....not really an option when you’re likely to drop all of it at any given moment. But then there’s bracing myself at cash registers, something like a job at Starbucks or hell there’s a Jamba Juice nearby, that’d also get me an employee discount for smoothies I can drink regularly. Course, there’s the whirring of blenders and such, which pair great with constant migraines. Etc. Etc.

BUT. I’m a well-rounded person with lots of skills....which lead to things like my freelance graphic design business as a book cover designer, as well as various writing endeavors, etc. And all of these are things that I DO do, currently. They’re how I make my income as is. There’s absolutely more jobs out there, but the fact is as a freelancer, FINDING additional jobs is a time consuming and spoon consuming process, that is additionally impacted by factors like ADHD, so not only does looking for work require time that’s not already being spent working, it also requires the management and expenditure of mental resources that I have to prioritize FIRST towards applying them to what work I already DO have, given the absence of ADHD medication and minimal coping or regulatory habits allowing for me to be all that productive WITHOUT said meds.

Not to mention the strain sitting in front of a computer all day for work in venues like graphic design, etc, puts on migraines, so there’s only so many hours I can devote daily or in one sitting to doing things like cover work. Much of my writing time is spent not actually writing, but me just dictating into notes on my phone and then copying and pasting all that into the appropriate formats for fiction, nonfiction and just random posts. Of course here then I have to prioritize applying my mental resources to first making sure the stuff I write to make money gets edited or properly pared down to size and isn’t repeating the same shit over and over and over, then doing the same to stuff I write fic wise as one of my few escapes from Real Life BS so I can at least point to having SOME kind of life (as this has been my daily existence for years, and uh.....people having things they like or like to do, as much as is humanly feasible, only becomes MORE of a necessity the more stress involved in their day to day life, not less). 

Meaning by the time I even get to posting, like.....as much as it may look like I do a lot of it, the speed at which I write when I have any kinds of spoons to apply to posting or composing thoughts at ALL means I actually pour out a lot in a little span of time.....BUT that’s not like, a Skill so much as its a Fact. Its just the way I am and it comes with its downsides as well as its upsides....Im good at banging out a lot in a short amount of time, but ONLY when I just....let it go, versus try and regulate it all or squeeze it out bit by bit. I’m a sprint poster these days rather than a marathoner, even if the length of my thoughts makes it LOOK like the latter.....the reality is for me it tends to be all or nothing, its whatever I can get on the page BEFORE I lose my breath or train of thought. So that’s why it looks the way it does, because that was the only form it was coming out at the specific time and space when I had the energy and brainpower TO get it out, and going back in hindsight and editing it for clarity or brevity AFTER I gasp it all out requires energy and breath I do not have PAST that point, so it becomes a simple equation of well do I want a post to exist here at all or not at all.....and I err on the side of posting. This isn’t a defense because there’s nothing to defend, mind you, I’m simply explaining my way through my thought process, approach to things, and realities of my day to day existence for you to do with whatever you want. Its just a perspective you may not have had before. Whatever. 

Of course, even this doesn’t exist in a void. Something that’s always a factor in my awareness when posting is like......I’m lucky enough to have a large enough following that cares enough about what I have to say for whatever reasons or puts enough value in what I have to say or the things I write and create, that I’ve been able to supplement my financial needs when absolutely necessary at times, by way of donation posts. I try not to lean on them more than necessary because I am keenly aware that they are a gift from people, many of whom I do not know and will likely never meet, and as such, not something I have any form of expectation for. I make donation posts when and where I do not in the anticipation of getting them met, but simply for a lack of any other options whatsoever. I’m limited in the work I can do, and the time and energy I can devote to finding more of that same work. There’s not a ton of other career paths I can pursue even from behind a computer due to my lack of a college degree, and the fact that even when I’m qualified skill or knowledge wise, I lack the specific credentials for verifying that I possess those skills or knowledge in a way employers are inclined to recognize and/or validate. Going BACK to school to get said credentials is an expenditure of time, finances, and other resources I do not have to spare at the moment or any time soon, especially not in the name of shoring up a lack of all that in the present term. 

I dropped out of college freshman year after my gaybashing and rape. I never went back to it for a variety of reasons that were only half about resources and half about intent. My family is not a presence in my life and hasn’t really been in any significant way since I was eighteen, so college in the first place was something I had to be entirely self-sufficient about....I was only able to afford to go the year that I did go by way of academic scholarships that were dependent on grades I couldn’t keep up in the wake of what happened to me, and that I couldn’t exactly ever get back without a foundation to build upon, like high school and my initial academic career. Then in the half that was about intent, I eventually moved into pursuing my actual interests like writing, graphic design and acting. One of the things I’ve always loved about those is that output and portfolio nets you more than credentials most of the time....they ARE your credentials. I was actually pretty damn successful as an actor for years, not in the way that leads to being someone that people would recognize, but in the way that leads to being able to support yourself doing what you love. All the skillsets that I have but could not back up with things like a diploma were still useful to me as an actor in a way that they’re not in terms of getting things like tutoring or teaching jobs.....I speak multiple languages but I’m self taught, I have a black belt in karate, I’m a classically trained pianist, I know a whole lot of shit about random shit that I just learned because I wanted to, and all of that got me the kind of work that I was looking for and meant I COULD work and make a living off those things for years throughout my twenty....work that I would not have been able to get if I had been back sitting in a classroom instead. The primary currency of my years as an actor were life experiences and I had those in spades, and I was very good at what I did, if I do say so myself, and the reasons I never advanced further career wise tended to have less to do with whether or not I booked the roles I auditioned for and whether I got the auditions at all......

I’m getting a bit off topic here but I’m just saying there’s definitely a convo to be had at some point, about the roles and opportunities I turned down because I wasn’t willing to sleep with someone or put up with their advancements in order to do so. Something that’s a dime a dozen in Hollywood and the thing is.....I was a sex worker, for years, before I moved to Hollywood and started working as an actor. But there’s a distinct difference between the way people talk about, interact with and perceive someone who’s gotten roles because of sex, advanced up a corporate ladder because of sex...versus, gotten paid because of sex. I didn’t turn down offers of roles for sex because of my hang-ups about sex but rather other peoples’......I had a problem with various parts of the industry that would have thought nothing about me getting a role because a producer wanted to sleep with me, but would have turned up their nose at me because I slept with someone to get money for groceries before. Basically I’m just saying the specific bullshit Hollywood has not just about sex but predatory behavior got in the way of my career advancement because there were some games I just wasn’t willing to play....which hails from the very life experiences that oftentimes made me so good as an actor in the first place.

Which brings me back again to my main point......none of this exists in a vaccuum. Being the sum of our life experiences and variables means being the SUM of that, at ALL times, both in large and small ways. We are never just a LIST of identity traits or experiences. They all constantly loop back around and feed into each other and inform where we are at every second of every day and where we GO in each second, what we DO with our days and the choices we make.

Which is where so much of my discontent with fandoms, on social media in general, with PEOPLE in my day to day life comes from: this desire people have to compartmentalize, to ZERO IN on specific factors or variables or instances and act like it even CAN be divorced from all other influences. Its not that you can’t FOCUS on one thing at a time, its just even when you do that, that doesn’t like....snap all existing connections that thing has to everything outside of your area of focus.

As an example, my attitudes on being a survivor and various kinds of fiction get me a ton of pushback from various corners, and its all geared around the same premise: don’t like, don’t read. Put a wall up between you and it. Focus on just what you’re doing and forget what everyone else is doing.

But it doesn’t work like that. It CAN’T work like that. And this commitment people have to pretending it does just because that pretense has been working for them, THAT, I’d argue, is the true wedge in fandom spaces.

Everything about me is connected to something else. I’m a childhood abuse and incest csa survivor. When my therapist asks me to picture a moment from my childhood when I felt safe or protected, I got nothing. I don’t have that resource. I don’t know what that feeling is meant to feel like, because I never felt it. And that connects directly into the fact that when I was gaybashed in college, after they dumped me in a fucking park, bleeding and covered in writing, I didn’t even think about going to the hospital, the police, let alone calling anyone like my parents, I just picked myself up and walked back to my dorm, cleaned myself off as best I could, and went to class next Monday morning. That’s fucked up, I shouldn’t have had to, but its what I did, and there’s no divorcing that from any of the contexts of WHY that’s what I did, and why I didn’t think there was any other logical recourse or option for me then. Just like all of that also links back to growing up in the closet and entering high school the same month Matthew Shepherd was attacked, and then when he ultimately died two months later, and watching everybody’s reactions to that informed the fact that I did not remotely feel safe in the aftermath of my attack, disclosing what happened to people around me, or just like I didn’t take it on face value that even if they said appropriately sensitive things to me to my face didn’t mean that like when I was a freshman in high school and everyone was reacting to that, they wouldn’t revert to callous jokes about fags the second they felt a little less out of the spotlight or in the right company for those jokes. 

And all of that directly links into my feelings not just when people write rape and gaybashing scenes that make no attempt at any kind of catharsis but rather only appear to exist for the fetishization, the glamorization, the VALIDATION of the idea that in the right context, those kinds of scenes can be hot to the right audience rather than demoralizing to the figure who’s pain and humaniliation is required for everyone else’s entertainment....but it also additionally plays into the reactions and attitudes I have when people look at me going “wow, really don’t like the lens you’re using here or the environment you’re creating around an experience that is never anything BUT painful and traumatic for someone who lived it, like I did” and choose to respond to that by saying things that amount to “well you’re basically just like conservative southern assholes who hate free speech when you say stuff like this,” cuz y’know.....that’s describing my literal oppressors. That’s lumping me in with the actual literal kind of people who are the SOURCE of my trauma there, all because you felt butthurt and defensive about how I said I wasn’t comfortable with the kinds of jokes and output you were making about scenes that aren’t that far divorced from my own personal reality, and that I shouldn’t HAVE to divorce from my own experiences just to exist within certain fandom spaces.

And just like the fact that being an incest survivor is directly relevant to the fact that my stepmother always made an effort to keep me at a distance because not wanting to admit to what happened to me and how it played into our family entanglements was directly linked back to the fact that she and my aunt were both incest survivors who never got the opportunities to deal with what happened to them, which in turn directly plays into the fact that ultimately my aunt ended up taking her own life a few years ago, which also very much informs my attitude towards people interacting with incest ships as something cutesy and uwu, as my aunt was literally the only person in my family I ever WAS close to or comfortable with. And there’s no divorcing any of that into nice neat little compartments that make it easier for anyone on the outside looking in to just peek through ONE window to see what they might see, and try and act like it doesn’t matter what’s in any of those other boxes because it has nothing to do with the only one they want to concern themselves with.

And my lack of resources and emotional state post gay-bashing led directly into my sex work for various reasons, which led in various ways to better things for me in some respects, while compounding certain traumas of mine in other respects, and there’s no divorcing any of that from the rest either. There’s no ‘my time as a sex worker was good’ even though some of it was and there’s no ‘my time as a sex worker was bad’ even though some of it really was. And a lot of the attitudes of some of the rich assholes who paid me for sex and viewed me as a plaything they could do anything to directly informs my resistance to letting powerful assholes in Hollywood hold roles over my head in exchange for sex, even though the latter could have advanced my career in huge ways and led to me being a lot more financially stable and self-sufficient by the time my physical issues emerged due to the jaw joint on one side of my head eroding through and snapping completely just like that in turn was a long-building repercussion of not just my gaybashing, but my decision to never go to the hospital and get checked out after it.

None of this can be cut away from the rest and trimmed into neat little pieces that don’t color outside the lines or impact anything else. Just like my gaybashing itself can’t be divorced from my white privilege, and the fact that it played into the fact that I survived that night in the first place. Something I say not in some weird white guilt kinda way like people try and project onto others for even acknowledging white privilege, like no its not like I fucking wish I died to prove some kind of weird point, what I’m talking about is just the simple basic AWARENESS that multiple and even contradictory factors exist in even the most extreme of situations. And its never anything BUT self-serving to pretend that you can frame it as otherwise.

And so when I talk about being a survivor, just like with all the rest of this, I’m not talking about some arbitrary status of survivorhood that exists in a specific point in time and is only relevant to some singular event I survived, its applicable to everything about my life big and small. I’m a survivor every single day I’ve survived, every day I wake up and keep moving forward despite the pain and stress and lingering trauma of what was done to me one night sixteen years ago, I’m surviving what they did every bit as much as I survived it that night and in the morning after as I dragged myself back to my room. Just like my status as an abuse survivor stemming from childhood directly informs everything about not just my coping mechanisms but my entire freaking worldview as someone who grew up throughout childhood learning to view the world through a lens in which he was simultaneously not safe due to the presence of victimizers in his own home, while at the same time still having certain protections that others don’t have in life in general due to not just again my white privilege but my male privilege, my cis privilege.

And that’s what makes it so laughable and so offensive when people act like I’m defining myself by being a survivor as some kind of singular identity trait whenever I raise it as something of relevance in fandom discussions that have EVERYTHING to do with stances of abuse apologism and homophobic ideas that directly play into why I was so unsafe in certain parts and times of my life, because who the fuck is anyone else to tell me how my experiences as a survivor and how they shaped me are or are not relevant to ideas pertaining to those very things, when brought front and center and face to face with me in various fandoms due to the insistence of fandoms at large on KEEPING these things front and center in almost ALL fandom discussions? Like, the hilarious irony of people who have so wholly centered certain types of ship and content in terms of their own personal fandom identities that they can’t help but feel personally attacked when someone so much as says “I don’t like the ideas you’re broadcasting alongside your choice to amplify and signal boost this kind of content because you’re not JUST signalboosting the content itself, but these specific perceptions of it and ideas in support of and in apology for it.”....like, turning around and saying IM too defined by my views stemming from my existence as a survivor. The call is coming from inside the house, lolol.

Again, none of this can be divorced from the rest. It can be focused on one piece at a time, but its connections to everything else that informs it in various RELEVANT ways, can not be made IRRELEVANT just because you don’t like the picture that forms when you’re forced to look at the WHOLE picture instead of just willfully condensing the frame to just the part you like or want to talk about.

And to bring it all home, looping back up to what I opened with:

Do you know how often I hear people say shit about the length of my posts or the rambling nature or in various ways act INCONVENIENCED by various things about how they have to interact with my posts when that interaction itself is still completely voluntary?

Taking in everything I said in this post, the way it all interconnects and informs other things, I’d like to ask anyone who has ever objected to some post somewhere or derided one because of something as ultimately nonconsequential as the length of it, something where its literally just like....scroll a few more seconds......do you apply the same energy and scrutiny to posts that cross your dash that are filled with various things like racism, transphobia, rape or pedophilia fetishization or abuse apologism, or do you let that slide by without acknowledgment before looking at a post that makes you sigh because of how fucking LONG it was and think...this, THIS is what I’m gonna choose to speak up about?

Because that’s ultimately what this is all about. Here’s the kicker with everything I said....my life could be better, I want it to be better, from the biggest aspects of it and pain issues to stuff just like.....the fandom communities I immerse myself in for my own attempts at having something to counterbalance real life stress. But at the end of the day, there’s no my life sucks or my life rocks....its still just...my life. And it has its good as well as its bad, and that ultimately hails from my choices, and the fact that like....even while there are choices I literally CAN’T make, I can be comfortable with the ones I DO make.

And so like......would my life be easier in some respects now if I’d gone back to school and gotten a diploma and had more job opportunities available to me? Yeah, for sure. But that awareness doesn’t mean I regret my choice NOT to go back to school when I DID have more opportunities for that, because the acting career I had at those times instead was the choice I made, with intent, and its one I’m still glad for making. Those experiences still matter, still meant something and still mean something to me. 

And do I wish that I’d coped with what happened to me in college in different, healthier ways that would have given me more tools for how I interact with my trauma and who I became after that, rather than how I did? Yeah, sometimes, for sure. But not without losing my awareness that the choices I did make at the time were not made in a vacuum, and can not be edited in hindsight....there were reasons I made them, reasons that were informed by everything that had happened to me previously and stemmed from a lot of things I still didn’t have control over and as such always placed a cap on the range of choices that were available to me back then, because there’s a difference between choices that exist in theory versus choices that exist as something that might viably be chosen at a particular place and time.

The world is big and complicated. Life is big and complicated. WE are big and complicated. And nothing about understanding any of that is IMO benefited by putting most of our effort into SHRINKING our worldviews, constructing artificial frames that don’t just focus us in on specific aspects of it for finite periods but attempt to then treat that as its own individual thing utterly disconnected from anything else that might be going on OUTSIDE that picture frame.

So if you’ve read this far and you’ve taken anything away from this big long rambling post that could be a lot shorter, could be a lot less rambling, but could also just not have been posted at all and I’d rather have it exist in this form than let everything in it go unsaid.....

My request would be that your takeaway be this: to look at your choices in regards to some specific finite interaction in even just one of your fandoms, and see what happens when you open the frame back up. If you widen the scope. If you let other things into the picture. Are you still comfortable with the choices you make or don’t make in light of THAT image, are they any different from the ones you made or would have made when keeping things as small and contained in your awareness as possible, just because that was easier for you to conceptualize, easier to navigate around, just....less COMPLICATED?

Because things aren’t made less complicated just by the mere fact of WANTING them to be.

And if your choices are more born of what you’d say or do IF the world were as finite or as limited as its sometimes easier to pretend it is......is that really the approach you want to go with and the reasoning you want to stand by?

And similarly, if there are choices you make and that in ORDER for you to feel comfortable making them, you feel a need to tighten your focus or shrink your worldview around one specific element or area and leave out all the rest and only then are you truly comfortable with doing or saying something, like......

Its important to remember that this isn’t the only option you have for making yourself more comfortable with things you say or do or think, or even just have in the past.

The other perfectly viable option exists: you can simply....make different choices.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

with you [chapter four]

Summary: Clementine pops the question, Louis has nightmares, Violet can’t let go of the past, Mitch doesn’t know how to handle gross feelings, Ruby’s a goddamn sweetheart, Willy doesn’t ever remember to knock, Aasim can’t dance, and James is here, too.

Nothing like a wedding to bring this family together.

Note: tbh working on this story at night is the only thing holding my sanity together while I’m taking care of my grams. But also this chapter was a huge pain in the ass to fix and I’m 0.02 seconds away from punching a hole in the wall. But it’s fine because it’s finished and I ran all the way home just to quickly post this. 

Anyway, thank you for reading and your constant support. It truly means a lot to me. I hope you enjoy ch4. ❤️

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4

Read on: AO3

---

The page remains blank.

No matter how much Violet wills the pen to move on its own, to put all thoughts both known and unconscious to paper, it remains beside the open notebook. As outrageous as it sounds, a small part of her hopes one day the pen will magically come to life and solve all of her problems with its problem-solving ink. Then everything will be okay. 

Though she has a feeling the walkers will go extinct before her pen develops a sentient personality or therapeutic skills. 

And she’ll be dead by then, so it wouldn’t matter anyway. 

“It helps if you pick up the pen,” Aasim said, not bothering to look up from his own work. “Just saying.”

She knows even by his deadpan tone that he’s trying to joke with her, even if he’s not good at it. Laying bait for her to bite back with a sarcastic remark of her own. 

“But then I’d actually have to write something down.”

“Oh no,” Aasim smirks, paying her a brief glance. “Effort.”

That cracks a small smile out of her, and for a fleeting moment, they’re smiling at each other as if that’s a normal thing. It’s hard to maintain that connection, so damn hard, so Violet hides her smile from him by turning away to look towards the gates.

The very same gates that Clementine, AJ, and Rosie pass through. Back from patrol, if she overheard correctly. Even from a distance, Violet can see the delighted grin Clementine wears, a grin only matched by AJ’s. Far brighter than Violet’s. 

AJ hugs her tightly before breaking away and bolting towards Louis, James, and Tenn. Clementine remains, though, arms folded over her chest as she watches the group of boys with such fondness that it damn near makes Violet want to scream.

Shit, just…. Shit . 

“Hey,” Aasim reaches over, tapping on the blank page of her journal with his own worn-out pen to grab her attention. “Lucy had her babies this morning. Seven of them. Well, eight, but one of them didn’t make it.”

Violet tears her glare away from Clementine to instead glare at Aasim. 

“Who the hell is Lucy?”

“One of the pregnant rabbits, remember? Not the one that had babies last week, the other one.”

“We’re still naming them?” Violet asks. Aasim made it very clear that no names were to be used when they started up the rabbit farm by the greenhouse. 

“They’re food, not pets. No names. No attachments.” 

That didn’t last long.

“ I didn’t name her,” Aasim corrects. “Willy did, even though I’ve told him again and again not to. Now when it comes time for us to put Lucy down, he’s not going to talk to me for another two weeks, as if I’m the only one at fault. Remember Albert?”

“Ah, Prince Albert,” Violet nods. “He sure was delicious.”

Everyone agreed that the lovely Prince Albert was one of the handsomest rabbits they had with his snow white fur offset by brown feet and ears. They also agreed that he made one of the best rabbit stews Omar’s ever created. 

Including Willy. That is until Omar offered him one of Prince Albert’s lucky feet and Willy realized just who he had consumed. 

The boy didn’t speak to Aasim or Omar for a week, but Violet believes that he still carries around one of Prince Albert’s feet for good luck, despite everything. 

“Yeah, anyway, did you want to come with me to check on them? Ruby’s out there now. Maybe you could stay with her and help out?”

Violet scoffs. 

“Look, I’ll take your night shift, too,” Aasim adds. “That way you don’t spend all day out there and then have to do a night shift.” 

“I like having the night shift.”

“Every night?”

“Sure.”

“Well,” Aasim taps his pen against the table, thinking loudly to himself. “I’m giving you the night off anyway. Ruby would appreciate your company.”

Oh, would she, now…?

It’s not that Violet minds Ruby. She’s the only girl Violet has left to talk to at this place- the only girl she’s willing to talk to, actually. 

Violet would say that she enjoys evenings spent with Ruby… most of the time. 

The problem with talking to or spending time with Ruby is she’s a lot. Not in the same way Louis is, but more in an overbearing mother sort of way. Always asking her how she’s feeling, asking about her day, if there’s anything she can do to help Violet out or if she wants to do this or that. She’s far too pushy sometimes, especially when it comes to shit she doesn’t understand. 

“Clem’s tryin’, Vi.”

As if Ruby has all the answers to make her happy. She always makes it sound so damn easy. 

“Why can’t ya just talk to each other?”

The problem is that Ruby tries to take care of everyone so that she doesn’t have to think about how to make herself happy. Why focus on your problems when you can bury your pains and wishes beneath fairy tales and other people’s problems?

At least, that’s Violet’s assumption. 

Maybe Ruby is happy. 

Maybe Violet just wishes she wasn’t. 

Fucking hell. 

Just when she thought she couldn’t be any more fucked...

“My company or yours?” Violet mumbles, finally picking up her pen, putting it to paper. 

“What? My company- oh, I see.” Aasim rolls his eyes, dropping his pen in the book before shutting it. “Ha ha, very funny. I get it.”

Violet nearly rolls her eyes, too. Speaking of those who don’t bother with their own shit-

“I was thinking that it’d be good for you to go out there and help her, that’s all,” Aasim says, tucking his notebook under his arm and standing from the table. He means to walk away on that annoying note but hesitates. Then, lowering his voice to one of disquiet, he says, “I’m worried about you. So is everyone else.”

“I’m fine, Aasim.”

“...Right,” he sighs heavily. “Please go help Ruby with the rabbits. I’m only going to be there for a little bit before heading out to check the traps with Louis, and she could really use the help. Please?”

“Fine.”

Aasim lingers, shifting his weight as he gives her a chance to say something more, a chance she refuses. 

“Thank you.”

With that, he’s walking away, leaving her by herself to finish a doodle of a pen with curly hair and fire for eyes with a speech bubble. 

“Why are ya still here?”

---

“Is my neck supposed to feel this stiff?”

“Yes. It’s a sign of a good, unmoving model.”

“Well, good to hear that my career is off to a good start.”

Louis is still sitting there at the table, cracking jokes and trying his best not to move while James and Tenn draw. James points to various parts of Louis’ face before motioning to Tenn’s paper, something that brings a grin to Clementine’s face. 

“Don’t worry, Clem,” says AJ as he hugs her. “I won’t say anything. Can I go draw now?”

“Have fun, kiddo.”

She can safely leave AJ to catch up on art lessons with James. He promised her he wouldn’t breathe a word of this to anyone- even Tenn- until she had everything all planned out.

Now that Mitch has the measurements, the ring is- hopefully- being taken care of, so all that leaves is how she plans on doing this. Several lingering thoughts follow her as she spends most of the day helping around the school, doing usual repairs to the gate and their walls. 

She would’ve checked on Lucy and the other rabbits, but Aasim warned her that Violet was there with Ruby and Louis. She almost pushed him aside and went in anyway, but damn it, she knows better by this point. 

Instead, she and AJ help Omar clean out the fire pit and gather fresh wood, briefly considering letting him in on her intentions. Omar’s a trustworthy friend and while she appreciates his opinion, she decides against telling anyone else until she has the ring. She’s found that battling her eagerness to be growing more difficult with every passing day. 

So much so that she also considers asking about the progress on said ring when she finds Mitch and James near the library’s entrance, speaking in hushed whispers that she couldn’t make out. All talk stopped when she approached them, and began again when Mitch became snappy with her before dragging James away. 

Odd, and not boding well for her, but she firmly believes that if there were any issues she should know about, Mitch would tell her.

When the sky finally turns a lovely mixture of pink and orange, AJ gives her a hug goodnight before making his way over to Tenn’s room for another sleepover. 

Before retiring to her dorm for the night, Clementine pokes her head into the music room to find it empty. A slight disappointment falls over her as she hoped Louis would be up for some piano lessons, but that dissipates when she finds Louis kneeling on AJ’s desk with a roll of duct tape hanging from his mouth when she walks in, a stack of drawings placed beside him. He’s taping up one of the portraits of himself on the wall.

“Ey!” He waves at her before spitting the tape out. “Look at these!” He hops off the desk and points at the one he just hung up. “That’s the one James drew. Charming, isn’t it?”

The amount of detail in the portrait is startling, a fully shaded-in head portrait of Louis that seemingly stares right at her. Even the little details, like his freckles and the scar on his chin, are noticeable.

“It’s way weirder than I thought it’d be,” he says, “having someone stare and dissect every part of your face. Did you know I have a very angular jawline?” He tilts his head up to prove his point. “And James said I have a nice eye shape.”

“He did do you justice,” she says, still admiring the picture. “Very handsome.”

His chuckle comes out loud and anxious, not having expected her to say that. 

“Hah, yeah, except,” then Louis pushes his jacket back to place his hands on his hips, “uhm, do you think my nose is big?”

“What?”

“James said I have a wider nose. He drew it bigger than it actually is, right?”  

“You have a very cute nose.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Clementine giggles. “Your nose is perfectly fine, Louis.”

He eyes the portrait, still uncertain, only to then gasp as if just remembering something. 

“Oh, wait though, ready for this?” He searches through the pile before plucking the one he wants out. “ This is the one Tenn drew.” He proudly holds it up.

She can’t say she’s not impressed. It’s nowhere near as proportional or advanced as James’, but Clementine can see the effort and charm within the lines. Definitely Tenn’s work.

“Wow,” Clementine smirks, nudging him. “I see it now. James is right, you do have a big nose.”

“ Hey ,” Louis reaches up and playfully pinches her nose, “big talk from little button nose over here.” Louis sticks Tenn’s portrait on the wall, next to James’. “There! We’re getting quite the art gallery.”

“One’s missing, though.” Clementine grabs Louis’ picture of Rosie off the desk and tapes it up with the others.

“Seriously?” he asks sheepishly.

“Oh yeah. We’re never taking that one down.”

“Terrific.”

Louis continues to look through the rest of the drawings. He hums to himself lightly, a tune she recognizes. He sticks more drawings on the wall; ones that AJ drew of him and Tenn, one he drew of Disco Broccoli.

He pauses when he comes across the one of AJ, Clementine, and him. The one with the beach ball. He smiles fondly at it before sticking it up there with the rest.

She sits on AJ’s bed, leaning against the frame to close her eyes and listen to his cheerful humming. 

One of the few things she loves in this world is the comfort she has when he’s around. 

It’s a comfort she never thought she’d find again. Before Ericson, she and AJ never had time for comfortable peace. When it was just them, there was always that lurking feeling, that bitterness, that lingered in her thoughts. 

Now, they have a place they call home. 

Clementine can’t imagine where they would’ve ended up had she not crashed the car. They’d still be out in the world, scavenging every little bit they could to survive. They never would’ve met the people she now considered family.

She and Louis would’ve never met, where she and AJ never met anyone at Ericson. 

That’s a really shitty thing to think about.

Finding this place, their home, was the best thing that happened to them. Meeting everyone here- Louis, Violet, Mitch, Ruby, Aasim, everyone - has done so much for them. For years, she worried about her and AJ, about always being on the road in a car that constantly ran on fumes, about running across assholes who wanted to hurt them, about the dead finally getting the best of them. Nowhere to go, no direction. A neverending search. 

 She sneaks a glance at Louis. He has no idea. 

He finishes up, shoving the duct tape in a drawer. Leaning against the desk with arms crossed over his chest, he looks at her with a tired grin, but says nothing. 

She raises a brow. 

“What?”

He shrugs.

It’s like the weariness of their previous night has caught up to him, like something triggered a sinking reality that weighs him down. The shadows along his face from the setting light do nothing to hide the sadness betraying his eyes.

She slowly approaches him and reaches out to grab his hand, tugging him closer to her.

“Hey,” she murmurs.

“Hey.”

“You feeling any better?”

“Of course.”

“Really?” Clementine locks their fingers together. “It’s been a long time since you’ve had one that bad.”

He keeps his stare focused on their hands. “...It wasn’t that bad.”

“Louis.”

“Clementine.”

“It was about that woman, wasn’t it?”

He says nothing, but she can see the answer clear in his eyes.

Yes, Clem, you know it was. It always is.

The first and only living person Louis ever personally killed, and it was purely accidental. It frustrates her that it still haunts him, and even more so that it’ll always haunt him. Even when he expressed the relief of “having it in him” to protect those he loves, there’s always a suffocating weight that comes with the first. If anyone knew that, it’s Clementine. 

That kind of guilt, no matter how irrational, never stops. 

“Dorian.”

“Hm?”

Louis closes his eyes and leans forward to press his forehead to hers.

“Her name was Dorian.”

“Lou-”

“I know.” He pulls back, forcing a smile. “I know.” 

His gaze falls on her nose. He pinches it again. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it right now. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” she smiles sincerely. “Just… want to make sure you’re alright.”

“You don’t have to worry about me so much, Clem. There are more important ways to spend your time.”

More important? 

She supposes that’s a good way to put it. 

“Y’know, I was thinking about what you said this morning,” Clementine smiles. “AJ’s having another sleepover with Tenn tonight, so we have the whole room to ourselves.” 

Louis raises a brow, a slow smirk spreading across his lips. 

“Wanna build a pillow fort?”

“You read my mind.”

Without any hesitation, she kisses him. It’s a quick, soft, comforting peck that catches him off guard.

Another kiss to his lips, and then another. Clementine holds onto the nape of his neck and moves to his chin, his cheek, placing soft, intimate kisses against his warm skin. 

He looks at her with lidded eyes before his hands caress her cheeks, his thumb brushing just below her eye.

He kisses her, eager for every press of her mouth. He doesn’t stop kissing her, even when she tightens her grip on his jacket and pulls him back with her. The desk hits her hip and he’s quick to lift her up onto the surface, almost knocking over her venus fly trap plant.  

A pleased sigh escapes her lungs as she desperately moves to his jaw, down his neck. Her hands move beneath his jacket, trailing down to the hem of his shirt before bunching the material up. His skin is warm. His breathing is quick, shallow.  

“Clem! Clem!”

Louis yanks back, their lips parting quickly with a loud smack as she nearly topples over from the force of him ripping away. 

The bedroom door slams open and in barges Willy. 

She’s disoriented, lightheaded, blinking rapidly and frantically searching for any sign of danger. All she finds is Louis, who’s now over at AJ’s desk, humming incredibly loud, and Willy hurrying in with a triumphant smile.

“Clem, guess wha-!” The second he sees Louis, he stops and gasps. “Oh no!”

“Oh, look, darling!” Louis stops pretending to look at the pictures and glares at the young boy. “It’s Willy, the boy who doesn’t know how to knock! Nice of you to pop in unannounced this late in the evening !”

Willy’s face flushes a scarlet red as his gaze darts between the two, falling down to Louis’ shirt, which remains lifted to reveal part of his stomach. 

Louis yanks the material down, fake coughing.  

Willy’s face is reminiscent of a fresh tomato at this point. It seems that even he got the sense of what was happening before he ran in. 

Clementine slips down from the desk and tries to casually straighten out her own jacket and adjust her hat with an unfazed face, even though she’s positive that her skin is blotchy and red, too. 

“I’m sorry!” Willy blurts out, covering his eyes. “I didn’t see anything! I’ll knock next time! I swear!”

“Uh-huh,” Louis frowns. “Said that last time, didn’t you?”

Now she’s not sure who’s redder, her or Willy.

“Willy, what do you want?’ Clementine sighs. She composes herself and approaches the boy.

His eyes went to Louis before meeting hers. That’s all she needs.

“Is it Mitch?” 

Willy nods.

Clementine’s heart flutters. Choosing her words carefully, she asks, “Is he done?”

Willy nods once more. 

“Done with what?” Louis asks. 

“Uh-”

“Watch,” Clementine interrupts. “I completely forgot that I have watch.”

“Seriously?” Louis asks, confused. “Wait, I thought Ruby had watch tonight.”

“I switched her,” she lies, moving towards Willy and adding, “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Willy leaves without another word, staring down at the floor. Clementine holds back an annoyed sigh. The previous mood is completely gone and now she’s made a mess of lies that she’s gotta detangle before Louis gets suspicious. 

Damn it, Willy. 

Couldn’t have waited until morning. 

Louis gives a thoughtful frown. 

“I’m a little worried about him,” he says, “about Mitch, I mean.”

“Oh, uh, really?”

"Something weird’s going on with him,” Louis nods. “He’s been down in the basement every day for the past week and- ...Well, I went to check on him this morning before breakfast.”

Panic shoots through her stomach and into her heart.

Louis pauses, unsure if he should continue. 

“And?” Clementine presses.

 “...Well, when I tried going down the stairs, I think- well, it was probably nothing. I probably didn’t see what I thought I saw because I could’ve sworn I saw James down there, too-”

Clementine’s stomach drops.

“-and I don’t know what they were doing but before I could even get down the stairs, Mitch threw a shoe at me.”

“A shoe?”

Oh, goddamn it, Mitch-

“Yeah, right at my face! He about hit me in my big nose!”

Clementine rolls her eyes. “Again with the nose thing?”

“I’ve accepted its abnormally monstrous size,” he says. “Anyway, then I saw him again on my way to the greenhouse and he wouldn’t even look at me. Not that he’s one for conversation or anything, but it’s like… I don’t know. It felt weird. I don’t know what he’s doing down in the basement or what they’re doing if that really was James I saw. I’m not sure I want to know.”

“I’m sure it was nothing.”

“Probably… I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone shout ‘no!’ and ‘out!’ that many times in a ten-second time frame before hurling shoes at me. It was pretty terrifying.”

“Mitch is…” Clementine’s at a loss. While she’s thankful for Mitch’s ability to think on his feet so quickly, she wasn’t sure if she approved of the shoe method. “...Hard to understand sometimes, and he and James are friends so it’s not that weird that they’re hanging out together.”

Louis considers this, though she can tell he’s not completely convinced. 

“...Do you think they’re… I mean, it’s none of my business but if there was something going on between them-”

Oh boy.

Louis then shakes his head, changing his mind. 

“Y’know what? I’m sure it was nothing.”

She sighs. So much for not making Louis suspicious of anything. Then again, maybe this is her fault. She did tell James that Mitch was working on fixing the ring, and she should’ve known that would lead to him trying to help. 

“He’s working on a project,” she says lamely. “He probably wants a second opinion on it from James. ”

“A bomb project? I didn’t think James was a fan of explosions.”

“Firecrackers work as a great distraction for the walkers,” says Clementine, which isn’t a total lie. Mitch brought up the suggestion to James a while ago. They spent a long time discussing the idea if she remembers correctly. 

Well, better not let sweet Ruby know,” Louis says. “She’s still got a personal grudge towards Mitch’s bombs ever since that thing in the greenhouse, you know.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” she smirks. “ ‘A bomb? I will whip his ass!’ ”

Her Ruby impression gets a chuckle out of him. “Hope he knows a shoe won’t be enough to stop her. If anything, that’s just provoking the beast.”

“He’ll have to learn that for himself,” she smiles. Clementine approaches him again, fixing the collar of his jacket and apologizing, “Sorry I can't stay and help you build an amazing, comfortable pillow fort. Will you be okay?”

“Don’t worry about me, darling.” He grabs her hand and kisses her cheek. “We can always build a pillow fort another night, or, uhm, finish what we started. Maybe I’ll go tickle the ivories for a while before bed, so if I don’t see you before your finished or if I’m not awake, goodnight and stay warm.”

She gives him a long kiss goodbye before she leaves. 

One the door’s shut, she takes a moment to take a deep breath. 

Her face still feels warm after all the excitement. She’s still a little annoyed at the interruption, but if she’s right about what Willy was trying to imply, then she has to hurry. She can only hope that Mitch found a way to fix the ring.

The wait is starting to make her anxious.

[artificialqueens]

Ungodly Hour, Chapter One (Jaida x Nicky) - Scarlet Bloo

a/n: Hi! I started this fic back when the fic challenge was announced and here it finally is, (2?) months later, 3 days from the deadline. It’s been a ride, but I’ve finally gotten it to a place where I’m happy with it, and while not every chapter will posted during the challenge I’ve at least managed to get one in!

summary: Nicky is crushing hard on a bubbly soccer playing sorority sister. It’s unusual for her to ever be into anyone like this, and all she wants is to be on her radar. Popular girl Jaida is captain of the basketball team, and while she’s usually smart, French just isn’t her forte. Lucky for her, Nicky is a native speaker, so she makes it her mission to get her as her tutor. 

Challenge notes:

A large amount of the story is told from Jaida’s point of view. 

Close friends of the main characters: Widow, Heidi and Akeria (who will become more prominent characters in future chapters.)

The title is a song by Chloe and Halle Bailey. 

Nicky snuck a look in Jan Sport’s direction, her heart tingling as she absorbed her beauty. She sighed, knowing the preppy, popular sorority girl had absolutely no idea she even existed. It was laughable that she ever entertained the idea of a relationship with her, even if it was only in the late hours of the night, a fantasy to procrastinate her studies with. But with her long blonde hair, muscular arms and smiling eyes, how couldn’t Nicky be so intrigued by her? This was a new feeling. Nicky hardly ever found herself interested in anyone, let alone a woman. It was surreal to her, but it somehow felt right.

She cast her eyes away from Jan and tried to focus on the Professor at the front of the lecture hall. Unsurprisingly, it was nothing of value to Nicky. Miss Coulee was voicing her disappointment with the class after 70% of the class had gotten less than a C in the last exam. Nicky rolled her eyes, looking down at the big red “A!” circled on her own paper. Despite this achievement, she was regretting her decision to take French. Sure, it being her first language definitely made the classes easier, but left her so unsatisfied with how little she had to push herself to pass. 

“Of course you got an A”, Gigi whispered to Nicky. 

She had a defeated look on her face and Nicky felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. Gigi and Nicky weren’t close, but seeing as they’d been sitting next to each other every French lecture since September, they’d gotten to know a fair bit about each other. Like Nicky, Gigi was a fashion major but was taking French so she could “make it big in Paris one day” and Nicky knew academics wasn’t her strong suit. 

“Yeah well,” Nicky smiled sweetly, “French is my language, fashion is yours.”

Gigi seemed content with that answer and nodded satisfactorily as Coulee dismissed the class and all that could be heard was the snapping shut of laptops and notebooks and friendly chatter.

Jan lingered by the door giggling with her friends and Nicky’s gaze locked in on her like a missile. She was beautiful, and she could help but trace each curve of her body with her eyes. She felt her hands go clammy as she found herself lost in her animated expressions. Jan was different to Nicky’s image of a popular girl, she didn’t strut around campus like she owned the place or go through millions of relationships. She radiated positive energy and it just made Nicky all the more eager to get to know her. She wasn’t usually this into people, but Jan Sport had turned her into a pile of mush.

“You’re staring again.” Gigi’s teasing voice brought a blush to Nicky’s cheeks. She had caught her staring at Jan in awe on multiple occasions and was one of the very few people she’d actually admitted the crush to. The only other person who she’d told was her roommate and best friend, Widow. But her other friends? Definitely not. They were all art majors, and while Jan was taking music, it wasn’t really the same thing. Nicky guessed it made them the artsy crowd, and therefore substantially less popular. With the exception of Gigi and Widow, who had been in an on and off relationship with a soccer player since freshman year, Nicky’s friends spent lunch breaks talking as much shit as they could about Charles College’s elite. And it was somewhat justified. Most of the popular kids were complete pieces of shit. 

Case in point - Jaida Essence Hall, Charles College’s star athlete. The girl walked around like she owned the place, and Nicky guessed she kind of did. At the snap of a finger someone would appear at her side, eager to grant any and every wish. Or jump into her lap. Or stick their tongue down her throat. She didn’t look as confident as usual right then though, sitting fists curled around the edge of her paper in the lecture hall. Everyone else, including Coulee, had left, but Jaida remained in her seat. She must have failed the test too, but Nicky didn’t feel much sympathy for the girl. Charles college was best known for its Basketball, with its best players usually ending up in the pros, and during their years at Charles, they’d get handed everything on a silver platter. Maybe it was unfair, and a tiny bit vindictive, but Nicky got a sense of triumph from knowing that Coulee was failing the captain of the women’s basketball team along with everyone else. 

“Wanna grab something to eat?” Gigi asked as she gathered her books.

“Can’t, I have to finish up all of last week’s design work.” Nicky got up, but didn’t follow her to the door, “Go on ahead. I need to check the schedule before I go, I can’t remember when my next tutorial is.”

“Okay,” Gigi said, “I’ll see you later!”

“Later!” Nicky called after her. 

At the sound of her voice, Jan paused in the doorway and turned her head. It was impossible to stop the flush that rose in Nicky’s cheeks. This was the first time they’d ever made eye contact, and she didn’t know how to respond. In the end, she settled for a small nod of greeting. There. Cool, casual yet wouldn’t come off as rude. Her heart skipped a beat when the corner of Jan’s mouth lifted into a faint grin. She waved in response, and then she was gone. Nicky stared at the empty doorway. Her pulse exploded in a gallop. After six weeks of breathing in the same air in the stuffy lecture hall, Jan Sport had finally noticed her. She wished she was brave enough to go after her. Maybe ask her to grab a coffee. Or dinner. Or brunch - hell, is brunch even a big thing in America? But her feet stayed glued in place because she was a total coward. She was terrified she’d say no, but even more terrified she’d say yes. 

Nicky was in a good place when she started college. Her issues solidly behind her, her guard lowered. She was ready to date again, and she did. She dated several guys, but other than her ex, Kayla, none of them had been female, and none of them had made her body tingle the way Jan Sport did, and that freaked her out. 

Baby steps. That was her therapist’s favourite piece of advice, and she couldn’t deny that the strategy had helped her a lot. Focus on the small victories, Sasha had always advised. So, today’s victory, she nodded at Jan and she waved at her. Next class, maybe she’d wave back. And the one after that, maybe she’d bring up the coffee, dinner or brunch idea. She took a breath as she headed down the aisle, clinging to that feeling of victory, however miniscule it may be.

Jaida had failed. She’d fucking failed. For the last 15 years before she’d joined Charles College, they had handed out A’s like tic tacs. But the year she decided to take a French class? She had gotten stuck with Shea Coulee. It was official. This woman was her archenemy. Just the sight of her flowery handwriting—which filled up every inch of available space in the margins of Jaida’s midterm—made her want to scream, rip up the page, and leave education indefinitely. Jaida had been passing all her other classes, but this (almost ironic) F in French was completely bringing her average down. Normally, she had no problem keeping her G.P.A up. Despite what she knew a lot of Charle’s population believed, she wasn’t dumb. And the worst thing about Charles? Their dean demanded excellence—academically and athletically. While other schools were lenient toward athletes, Charles has a zero-tolerance policy. When she spoke to Coulee before class, she’d bluntly told her that unless she was going to find her own private tutor, she’d have no choice but to turn up to extra tutorials which overlapped with basketball practice. It really was a lose-lose situation.

 Jaida’s frustration manifested itself in the form of an audible groan, and from the corner of her eye, she saw someone jerk in surprise. Jaida jumped too, because here she thought she was wallowing in her misery alone. However, the girl from the back row had stuck around and was headed towards Coulee’s desk. Staci? Selena? Jaida couldn’t remember her name, probably because she’d never thought to ask for it before. She was pretty, though. A lot prettier than Jaida had ever realised. Perfect features, dark hair, a petite hourglass figure. How had she never noticed her before now? Her skinny jeans clung to a round, perky ass and her round breasts peaked slightly out of her v neck. 

“Everything okay?” the girl asked with a pointed look. Jaida murmured a reply under her breath. She really wasn’t in the mood to talk right then. 

The girl raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow in Jaida’s direction, “Sorry, was that english?” 

Jaida balled up her paper and scraped her chair back, “I said everythings fine.”

“Okay, then,” The girl shrugged and continued down the steps. As she picked up the clipboard that contained the tutorial schedule, Jaida flung on her jacked, then shoved her  pathetic midterm into her  backpack and zipped it up. The dark-haired girl headed back to the aisle. Sophie? Sabrina? The S sounded right, but the rest was a mystery. She had her midterm in hand, but Jaida didn’t sneak a peek because she assumed she failed just like everyone else.

Jaida let her pass before she stepped into the aisle. She followed her up to the exit, suddenly realizing how tiny she was compared to herself—she was one step below her yet could see the top of her head. Just as they reached the door, the girl stumbled on absolutely nothing and the books in her hand clattered to the floor.

“Shit. I’m such a klutz.”

She dropped to her knees and so did Jaida, because contrary popular belief, she wasn’t heartless, and the polite thing to do was help her gather her books.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine,” she insisted.

But Jaida’s hand had already connected with her midterm, and her jaw dropped when she saw her grade.

“Fucking hell. You aced it?”  Jaida demanded.

The girl gave a sweet smile. “Well, I am French. I thought you’d have been able to tell from the accent.”

“Holy shit.” Jaida felt like she’d just bumped into Coco fuckin’ Chanel and she was dangling the secrets to her  universe under her nose. “Can I read your answers?”

Her brows quirked up again. “That’s rather forward of you, don’t you think? We don’t even know each other.”

Jaida rolled her eyes. “I’m not asking you to take your clothes off, baby. I just want to peek at your midterm.”

“Baby? Goodbye forward, hello presumptuous.”

“Would you prefer miss? Ma’am maybe? I’d use your name but I don’t know it.”

“Of course you don’t.” She sighed. “It’s Nicolette. Nicky for short.” Then she paused meaningfully. “Jaida.”

Okay, she was way off on the S thing. And Jaida didn’t miss the way she emphasized her name as if to say, Ha! I know yours, bitch! Nicky collected the rest of her books and stood up, but Jaida didn’t hand over her midterm. Instead, she hopped to her feet and started flipping through it. As she skimmed her answers, her spirits plummeted even lower, because if this is what  Coulee was looking for, she was screwed. There was a reason she was a  geography major, for gods sake—she dealt in facts. Black and white. This happened at this time to this person and here was the result. Nicky’s answers focused on detailed analysis on texts Jaida couldn’t even translate in the first place. 

“Thanks.”  Jaida gave her the booklet, then cracked her knuckles. “Hey, listen. Do you…would you consider…” she  shrugged. “You know…”

Nicky’s  lips twitched as if she was  trying not to laugh. “Actually, I don’t know.”

Jaida let out a breath. “Will you tutor me?”

Her grey eyes—slightly green and surrounded by thick black eyelashes—went from surprised to skeptical in a matter of seconds.

“I’ll pay you,” Jaida added hastily.

“Oh. Um. Well, yeah, of course I’d expect you to pay me. But…” She shaked her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Jaida bit back her disappointment. “C’mon, do me a solid. If I fail this makeup, my GPA will implode. Please?” She flashed a smile, the one that made her dimples pop out and never failed to make people melt.

“Does that usually work?” she asked curiously.

“What?“

“The winning innocent pageant girl smile… Does it help you get your way?”

“Always,” the taller girl answered without hesitation.

“Almost always,” Nicky corrected. “Look, I’m sorry, but I really don’t have time. I’m already juggling school and work, and with the winter showcase coming up, I’ll have even less time.”

“Winter showcase?” Jaida said blankly.

“Right, I forgot. If it’s not about basketball or your big pageants, then it’s not on your radar.”

“Now who’s being presumptuous? You don’t even know me.”

There’s a beat, and then she sighed. “I’m a fashion major, okay? And the arts faculty puts on two major displays every year, the winter showcase and the spring one. The winner gets a five thousand dollar scholarship. It’s kind of a huge deal, actually. Important industry people fly in from all over the country to see it. Fashion houses, investors, big magazines…. So, as much as I’d love to help you—”

“You would not,” Jaida grumbled. “You look like you don’t even want to talk to me right now.”

Her little you-got-me shrug was grating. “I have to go finish up some designs. I’m sorry you’re failing this course, but if it makes you feel better, so is everyone else.”

Jaida narrowed her eyes. “Not you.”

“I can’t help that I was born into a french speaking household.”

“Well, I want your help.”

Jaida was two seconds from dropping to her knees and begging her, but she edged towards the door. “You know there’s a study group, right? I can give you the number for—”

“I’m already in it,” Jaida muttered, embarrassed.

“Oh. Well, then there’s not much else I can do for you. Good luck on the makeup test. Baby.”

She darted out the door, leaving Jaida staring after her in frustration. Unbelievable. Everyone at this college would have cut their leg off to help her out. But this girl? Ran away like she’d just asked her to give up her first born so they could give it to Rumplestiltskin. And now  Jaida was right back to where she was before Nicky-not-with-an-S gave her that faintest flicker of hope. Completely fucking screwed.

[you-a-southpaw-doll]

Buzzed - A Negan One-Shot

Summary: After an incident in the Sanctuary, Leigh takes matters into her own hands. What will Negan’s response be? 

Warning(s): Language. Angst. Attempted rape. Violence. Death. Slight Panic Attack. Anxiety. Leigh being a badass. Negan caught off guard (no pun intended). Mentions of what could be considered self-harm. Daddy kink, but not really. You’ll see. Protective Negan. Fluff. Sexual Innuendoes. Puns (Sorry Not Sorry!). Happy ending. Not Beta’d. I just finished writing this and had to post it! Sorry for any errors.

Author’s Note(s): 

I cut my hair myself, usually every 2 weeks, but no more than 3 weeks. I just can’t have my hair touch my ears; it makes my anxiety 10 times worse, and in a way, I kinda explain the reason behind that in this story. I was cutting my hair tonight, (it’s now 2:30 am, 5/24/2020) and I thought of this story idea and Negan’s reaction to the main character having short hair. 

Also, if any of the warnings are triggering for you, please don’t force yourself to read. The last thing I’d want to do is trigger someone into having a panic attack. Feel free to give me any feedback, thoughts, questions, comments and/or concerns you have with the story. I love hearing from y’all! 

As always, if you’d like to be added to my taglist, just let me know and I’ll happily add you!! 

Word Count: 5,301. (A lot, I know, but I think it’s worth it, and I just couldn’t get everything I wanted across in less words, so enjoy!)

Relationship(s): Negan x Leigh Sullivan (OFC)

Characters: Negan. Leigh Sullivan (OFC). Simon. Dr. Carson. 3 unnamed Original Male Characters. Sanctuary People.

Taglist: @negans-network @prettyboynegan @mychemicalimagines @spnnnxangelsx @rockinkel21 @misskittycat02 @band--psycho@ofxallxwexlost @iron-halt @thamberlinawrites @ravenwings73 @lettherebepink @stoneyggirl

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

Story Time:

Leigh’s P.O.V. ~ Then

They’d caught me off guard, for once. 

Normally, I never let anything or anyone catch me off guard. Or at least...I tried not to. Due to having anxiety, I was usually hyper-aware of shit going on. But, today, my anxiety had eased off after the relaxing morning I’d had with my husband. We’d spent the morning, snuggled up in his big king-sized bed, just shooting the shit and goofing off. 

He didn’t have to go out on a run today, so there was no need to rush the morning like we normally had to 95% of the time. Eventually, though, the day had to get started. Dwight came knocking on the door, interrupting our relaxation time, saying he needed my husband for something. Being the man my husband is, he grumbled, cussed Dwight out, and then got outta bed while apologizing to me for the interruption and assuring me we’d finish relaxing when he got back later.

After a kiss, and a soft “I love you,” he was gone. Off to do what he did. It was my day off, so I laid in bed for a little longer before I too got up, dressed, and made my rounds. As the top female Savior, something I’d worked my ass off, fought for, and took seriously, I said hi to who I needed to, did what I needed to, and finally, sat down under my favorite tree out by the greenhouses. 

I laid my leather jacket on the ground next to me, leaving me in my usually black t-shirt, holey but patched up and well worn blue jeans, and faded brown leather boots. Strapped to each thigh was a holster. In the right one was my signature gun, a .357 Magnum, 6-shot revolver. In the left holster, I kept my handcrafted 6 inch blade that I made back when I was 15, well over half a decade, shit closer to a decade ago, considering I was almost 25.

Bending my knees, and pulling them close in a comfortable position, I propped up the notebook I usually kept in my leather satchel with two backup knives, an extra gun, ammo, and a spare notebook for work along with several pens and pencils. The writing equipment was a rare commodity these days, so I always kept them close to me.

As I was writing a story I’d started a few days prior, I zoned out just a bit, focusing on it. I’d started writing when I was just 12 years old, and kept the habit up, even now, 3 years after the world ended and the dead started walking back in 2020 after the Coronavirus outback after the new year, new decade had started. 

I was writing, losing myself in the words I printed on the paper in my chicken scratch. I say chicken scratch ‘cause, well...that’s basically what it was. As a lefty, my handwriting wasn’t necessarily the best, and a doctor’s prescription note was probably more legible. It was a mixture between slanted and curved print and semi-elegant at times cursive. 

But, it was my handwriting, and I could read it. My husband sometimes had difficulty reading it, but he’d always put his black-rimmed glasses on, and fuck if they didn’t make him look sexier than he already was. Because of that, I sneakily wrote a little sloppier when I knew he’d have to read something from my notes about the runs I went on.

It was all an excuse to see him with those glasses perched on his nose, giving him that sexy professor look. He thought they made him look ridiculous, but I loved it. Since I was writing and zoned out, I wasn’t nearly as focused on my surroundings. I didn’t think I had to be. The tree was my safe spot when I wasn’t with my husband.

The Sanctuary was a relatively safe place, and that was thanks to the rules that were in place. So, it’d make sense that I wouldn’t focus on my surroundings as much and relax a bit as I wrote. But, boy was I wrong. I just didn’t realize it till it was far too late. Before I realized what was happening, I was being punched in the right side of my face, slinging my head to the side, as my notebook and bag were jerked away from me and my hair was roughly pulled, jerking my head backwards.

I went to grab my gun and my knife, but they’d already been taken from me. My eyes flirted back and forth in front of me, trying to process what was going on. But, everything was blurry and I was dizzy from the hit. I could barely make out three men close to me, far too close to me. They were basically on top of me. 

Fuck. One of them actually was. I could feel the weight of him straddling my thighs, keeping me from standing. I couldn’t hear anything as the beating of my heart flooded my ears. I tried to fight back as best as I could, but the other two men grabbed my hands and jerked them away from my body and pinning them to the ground as they shoved my upper body down.

When they jerked my arms away, I felt, more than heard, my left shoulder dislocate. I clenched my jaw. The pain wasn’t anything new. I’d been dealing with a shoulder that dislocates when I fuckin’ sneeze since I was 13 years old. The pain, when it happened, was now at a tolerable level since I was so used to it happening.

I didn’t cry out. I knew not to. Plus, the wasn’t the type of person I was. I knew what was ‘bout to happen. It, like my shoulder, was something I’d had to put with for years growing. It wasn’t anything new either. But, that didn’t mean it was enjoyable. It was anything but. I barely processed my jeans being jerked down my hips and past my knees. 

I could just barely hear the men laughing and joking around with each other, talking ‘bout what they were going to do to me and wondering why the fuck I was wearing two pairs of boxers under my jeans. I watched them, as best as I could with my vision being what it was. When the blurriness faded just enough, I could make out their features and recognized them as members of the new group that was brought in last week. 

Members I’d brought into the Sanctuary. Into my house. I dropped my head back down to the ground and groaned to myself. I let my body go slack, waiting for the perfect time. When the men realized I wasn’t struggling anymore, they laughed and the two dumbfucks holding my arms down eased up on their grip.

The man on my legs lifted himself up just enough push his own pants down. Their easing up on their grip was their mistake and ultimately what led to their demise. Since they weren’t paying attention to me, thinking I’d just given up, and instead focusing on getting their baby carrot sized dicks outta their pants, I was able to strike back. 

I immediately brought both my hands up, fingers curled in to form perfect fists without worry of possibly breaking my thumbs, ignoring the protest of my left shoulder, and cocked both the men on my sides straight in the noses. I internally smiled at the sounds of their noses breaking and their screams of pain. 

They stumbled back just a little bit, hands covering their faces as they clutched their noses in an attempt to stop the extensive amount of blood falling. Clearly, I caught the man on top me off guard with my actions and he was shocked for a moment. It was perfect. I bucked him up off me, managed to jerk my pants up as I stood. 

All one fluid motion.

Since he was still obviously in shock at me suddenly fighting back, he stumbled, tripping, and falling backwards on the ground. He tried to scurry backwards as fast as as he could. Despite being 5’3”, I was able to stay with him. I slammed my boot down on his stomach, making him howl in pain and wheeze as he struggled to get the air back that i’d just forced outta his lungs.

I kept my foot on his gut, putting most of my weight on it, digging the worn sole into his abdomen. He let out a sad excuse for a grunt as I did. I just smirked. This fucked had no idea who he’d fucked, or tried to fuck with. I leaned down and started pummeling the shit outta his face, keeping him in place with my foot.

Since he couldn’t get fresh air back into his lungs because of the position of my foot, he was too weak to try and fight back. To say I was a little disappointed at not having a challenge, would be like saying the dead weren’t walking around. It was a lie. I was disappointed, and I fueled that disappointment in with the anger as I literally beat him to death. 

He kept trying to apologize, tried to plead with me, to not kill him, but I didn’t give a fuck. He was ‘bout to rape me, and I’d had ‘nough of that in my life. I wasn’t putting up with it. I eased up just before I knew he was about to die. Gave him false hope into letting him think his words had affected me. I let him get one last breath in as I completely lifted my foot off his torso. 

“Than-” He started to say, but I cut him off as I slammed my boot into his face, effectively crushing his skull. 

“Don’t fuckin’ thank me, prick.” I muttered to him as I wiped my boot off on his once clean but now bloody clothes. “You fuckin’ ruined my goddamn favorite fuckin’ pair of boots, asshole.”

Before I turned away from him, I spit on his crushed skull. Since it was destroyed, I didn’t have to worry ‘bout him coming back as a dean’un. I was a little sad that I wouldn’t get to kill him a second time, but he’d gotten what he deserved. Turning to the other two dumbfucks, I repeated my actions, and did to them exactly what I’d just done to their friend.

I knew my husband was going to be pissed that I killed these men, instead of letting him do it, but I’d deal with that. I wasn’t going to let these fuckers back inside the relatively safe concrete walls of the factory that was the Sanctuary. By the time I was down stomping in the skull of the third man, I looked up, as I finished, and noticed that I’d gathered quite an audience.

Including Simon. The right-hand man, third person in charge of the Sanctuary. His, and everyone else’s, eyes were wide, and everyone was silent. I knew I was gonna be in trouble since they’d just seen me stomp the life outta three men, but I didn’t give a fuck. I had shit to do. I gathered up my weapons, my jacket, and bag after shoving my shit into it and stormed inside the Sanctuary, flipping everyone off, not wanting to deal with their gawking.

Not caring ‘bout my bloody appearance, I made my way to the commissary, needing to grab a few things before I went back to my room. I found what I needed: a new pair of jeans identical to the ones i was wearing, a new t-shirt, undergarments, a pair of boots and a special item, an unopened, brand new boxed set of hair clippers. 

Once I had what I needed, I stormed up to the room I share with my husband, stripping down to my bra and one pair of boxers when i get there.

Leigh’s P.O.V. ~ Now

“What the fuck was that fuckin’ shit out there, Leigh?!?” 

I sigh as I hear my husband storm into our room, the door slamming shut behind him. I look at myself in the mirror as I lay the scissors down on the bathroom counter by the sink and pick up the clippers. Turning them on, I don’t reply to my husband. Not wanting to explain to him what happened at the moment.

I stare at myself in the mirror as I bring the clippers up to my shortened hair. I press the #2 guard to my head and move it backwards from my forehead to the back of my head, sticking to the once familiar hairline I used to see and live by religiously. I watch as the hair falls, joining the rest of my once long, curly locks, on the floor by my feet. I use my fingers to guide my movements, making sure I don’t go too high and completely fuck up my hair.

Once I have the hairline visible, separating what I want to keep and what I want to shave off, I move the guard down below my ear and with practiced ease, I shave the sides and back of head, getting rid of the hair. Keeping an eye on myself, making sure I don’t fuck up my haircut, not that I would since I used to do this every 2-3 weeks, I watch as my husband steps into the bathroom.

I watch as his eyes nearly bulge outta their sockets when he sees me. I watch as the anger vanishes from his face and body, being replaced with worry, sadness, and a hint of curiosity. I watch as his eyes traveling over the reflection of my face in the mirror, taking in my black eye, bruised and split open cheek, covered in blood and even the nasty black eye I’m now sporting.

I watch as he slowly moves his eyes up to meet mine in the mirror. 

“What...what are you doing?” He asks softly. 

My left eyebrow shoots sky high as I look at him. My husband rarely says a sentence without cussing every other word. And yet...he just asked a simple question without one sentence enhancer thrown in. 

“What the fuck’s it look like I’m doing? I’m cutting my hair.” I say. “Decided I needed a new fuckin’ look. Don’t you fuckin’ love it?” 

I know I’m being Captain fuckin’ Obvious at the moment, and a bit harsh, but I’m not ready to tell him what happened. That’s for after I get done. Cutting my hair is the only thing keeping me from completely shutting down and giving in to the panic attack that’s trying to take over. I watch as he lets out a deep breath as he slowly steps into the bathroom, padding across the tiled floor to me.

He places his hands on my shoulders and I do my best not to flinch. But he still sees it and quickly lifts his hands off me, holding them up in a surrendering pose. I know he’d never hurt me, and he was the one to save my life after this shit hole of a world started three years ago. But, I can’t help it. The feeling of those fuckers’ hands on me, plus the fact that my shoulder is still dislocated, keeps me from wanting to be touched.  

“Can...let me help. Please, sweetheart.” My husband’s soft drawl meets my ears.

“No. I need to do this myself.” I reply, tightening my grip on the clippers.

I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down in his throat as he swallows deeply and nods. I keep my eyes on his in the mirror and finish cutting my hair. It’s been three years since I’ve cut my hair, but the muscle memory is still there. It’s like riding a bike. My husband watches as I finish shaving the sides of my head down to where there’s just a bit of peach fuzz. 

Switching the clippers off, I replace the guard with a #1 and go back over the bottom hairline on the base of my neck. Once I have that done, I take the guard off completely and just put the metal of the clippers to the back of my neck doing my best not to flinch at the burning heat coming off it as it meets my skin. 

I take that little strip down so there’s no hair there, running along along the hairline on my neck. I use the blending guard and even out the area, making the hair have a fade. Replacing the blending guard with the #7, I bring it up to the patch of hair on my head, and trim it down. When I finish, my feet are covered with a mountain of what used to be the long, thick, curly hair on my head.

My neck and shoulders are also covered with the little strands of hair that I buzzed off. Setting the clippers on the counter, I run my hands over the buzz cut I now sport and take in a deep, shaky breath. I let my head drop down, pressing my chin to chest and take another shaky breath in after letting out one. 

“Baby?” My husband asks softly.

I lift my head and look up at him. My eyes roam over the unzipped black leather jacket he’s wearing over his standard white t-shirt and down to the grey jeans he’s wearing, held up by two leather belts. I let my eyes rest on his feet, no longer hidden by his own pair of black combat boots, but rather a pair of white socks. 

Taking in another deep breath, I bring my eyes up to meet his. I can see the worry swimming in his muddy water brown eyes. I shake my head as i start to take my bra off and push my boxers down, stepping outta them as the pool ‘round my ankles.

“I need a shower.” I mumble and step ‘round him to walk to the stunning shower we share.

I grip the knobs tightly as I turn the water on, as hot as it’ll go. I need to feel the pain of the burning water over my skin. If I don’t, I know I’ll give in to that panic attack that’s already  on the verge of consuming me. Stepping into the shower, I glance back at my husband over my shoulder. 

“You can…” I mumble.

He nods as he understands what I’m trying to say. I look away, for the first time since we met, and eventually became intimate, not wanting to watch him undress. I know that if I were to watch, I’d see those assholes tugging their pants down, and I don’t want that. I don’t want my husband to be mixed in with them.

Standing under the burning hot water, feeling it flow over and pelt my skin, I bring my hands up and tightly grip what’s left of my hair, tugging on it. I feel Negan step into the shower, behind me. I don’t have to look.  I know he’s there. I can feel the heat rolling off his skin, along with the worry and helplessness. 

He hasn’t seen me like this in three years, and even then, it wasn’t this bad. I blindly reach for the bottle of men’s body wash he and I share and I vigorously scrub my body with it. Trying to get the touch and the blood of those men off me. It takes four harsh washes and rinses before I even begin to feel clean. 

Negan just stands behind me, leaning against the back wall of the shower. He’s giving me my space while still letting me know he’s right there if I need him. The bottle slips outta my hands when I go to pour more of the soapy liquid into my palm. I’d leave it there, but Negan gently reaches around me, picking it up. 

I hear the bottle open and can tell he’s pouring some into his own hands. I figure he’s just gonna wash his body until I feel his soft and gentle touch on my skin. I flinch and tremble at first, but eventually give into the feeling of him touching me. He takes his time, gently washing me, letting me get clean for the final time. 

Letting me know that it’s ok. That it’s over. That’s he’s got me. That he’ll take care of me. Neither of us say a word as he takes the removable showerhead from it’s dock and gently rinses me off after he turns the cold water on, letting the temperature of the water mix until it’s no longer burning, but rather warm and gentle.

He lets the showerhead drop and dangle as he turns the water off and steps out. I keep my eyes closed and feel him wrap a soft towel around me. I open my eyes and bring them to meet his, only to find him staring at my dislocated shoulder. He blinks and his tongue darts out just a little from between his lips.

“Want me to put it back in place, sweetheart?” 

I nod slowly. 

“Put your right arm ‘round my waist, baby, and I will.”

I follow his soft command and a moment later, I feel his palms against my left shoulder. He’s helped me pop my shoulder back into place enough over the last few years that he knows what he’s doing. I suck in a deep, shaky breath right as he pops it back into place. I bit my lip to hold back the whimper from the pain.

As soon as he’s done, he wraps both his arms ‘round me and just holds me close as I bury my face against his wet chest. We don’t say another word for a solid 10 minutes. He just holds me as we stand in the bathroom, water pooling ‘round our feet. Eventually, he gently scoops me up in his arms and carries me to bed. 

Sitting down on it, he just holds me in his lap, not saying anything. I know it’s his way of helping me get outta the panic attack and also letting me know that he’s listening when I’m ready to talk. It takes me a hot minute before I get the words out, and even then they’re just a whisper.

“They...they were trying to rape me.”

I hear him let out a growl and his arms tighten ‘round me, protectively. That’s his number one rule. Rape is not allowed. Followed by the prohibition of abusing women and children. He doesn’t say a word, letting me continue. I tell him everything that happened, as I tremble in his arms. He just holds me close, softly rubbing my back and taking even breaths to help me subconsciously focus on keeping my own breathing even.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, baby.” He finally murmurs after I finish recounting the events. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. They got what they deserved. I just wish I could’ve introduced them to Lucille.” 

My eyes flirt over to the barbed-wire baseball bat propped up against the wall by our bedroom door. She’s surprisingly clean. I guess Negan didn’t have to dish out any punishments today. Only I did.

“I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, though, baby.” He whispers in my ear.

I look up at him, confused. “Proud?”

He nods. “Mmhhmm. You shut that shit down, and kept your cool until you were up here. I don’t know how you fuckin’ managed that, but I’m not surprised. I heard what you did, heard how you described it, and fuck, baby. I wish I’d seen you go Rambo on their asses. You’re my badass girl. I’m proud of you.”

A small smile tugs at my lips. Despite the events of the day, and me doing what I did, my husband still manages to make me smile. He slowly brings one hand up, keeping it in my line of sight, and cups my good cheek. 

“Will you let me send Carson up here to stitch your cheek up and get you checked out?”

His eyes search mine, waiting for my reply, and hoping I’ll let him. I nod against his palm, and he lets out a deep breath. He reaches over to the nightstand and plucks his radio off it. His thumb pressed against the side button.

“Carson. Get your fuckin’ ass up to my room now, and bring your bag. Fuckin’ now.” He growls into the receiver.

“Yes, sir.” Comes the doctor’s reply not even  a moment later.

Negan then pushes the button down again and talks.

“Simon. Bring two plates of food up to my room. Now. And make sure it’s some good shit too.”

Simon replies in the affirmative and Negan sets his radio down. He looks back at me and places his palm back against my good cheek. A gesture that always makes me relax.

“Can I ask why you cut your hair?” He asks softly.

“I refuse to let another man tug me around by hair, guiding me to do his bidding,  especially during a situation like earlier. It was a flashback to my dad doing what he did. It’s why I’ve also cut my own hair. It’s the one thing I about my body that I can control. So, I keep it short and no man will ever be able to use my hair against me again.” I say, the truth just spilling out. “Plus, having it touch my ears, always made my anxiety ten times worse.”

He knows what my dad did, and he’s known that tugging on my hair was a hard limit for me. So, he never did it, which is why I let my hair grow out. I felt safe around him. I still do. But, having long hair is just a liability, and I refuse to be put in that situation again. He nods in understanding.

“I’m gonna miss your curls, though.” He says. “And waking up with a mouthful of your hair in my mouth.”

I can’t help but giggle at that. It’s true. Most mornings, he’d wake up, sputtering to spit out the strands of my hair that ended up in his mouth as we slept next to each other.

“I left enough on top so you can still play with my hair, babe. And, there’s still enough to run your fingers through it.” I assure him.

“Can I?”

I nod and a moment later, I feel his fingers on his other hand stroke through my wet hair, lightly massaging my scalp as he does. I let out a soft moan at the feeling and lean into his touch on my cheek, closing my eyes. He chuckles as he plays with my hair.

“If that’s your reaction to me doing that every single fuckin’ time, I could get used to it. And I’ll just have to get used to having an even stiffer hard on from the soft moans.” He smirks as he looks at me.

I blush and open my eyes looking up at him. “You're my husband. I think I can manage helping you out with the baseball bat you have in your pants.”

He laughs softly. “Yea?”

I grin. “Mmhhmm. You’re fond of Lucille. I’m quite fond of your own bat.”

He grins, showing off his dimples. “I’m fuckin’ fond of you, baby. Have been since we first met in the woods. Why else do you think I got rid of the wives years ago?”

I try not to grin as I shrug. “It was the only way you were getting in my pants and scoring a homerun.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Not the only reason, baby. It was because I love you, Leigh.”

I grin from ear to ear and turn my head to place a soft kiss to his palm. “I love you too, Negan.”

Before he can say anything else, there’s a timid knock on the door.

“Come the fuck in!” Negan calls out, holding me close.

Dr. Carson comes in. He’s no longer as nervous as he used to be when I first showed up. But he’s still a little nervous around the man. I’ve gotten Negan to ease up on the fear of himself he’s instilled in people, and gotten him to be nicer in the way he treats folks. He’s not the bat-wielding lunatic he was when we first met. 

He’s the man I always knew he was.

A soft, 6’2” teddy bear wrapped in leather. 

My soft, 6’2” teddy bear wrapped in leather. 

After Carson checks me out, determines nothing’s broken, assures me that everything is good, and stitches my cheek up, he leaves. Negan helps me get dressed in a pair of his boxers under my new jeans and one of his shirts before he pulls on a pair of sweatpants. Simon comes in shortly after I finish getting dressed, holding a tray of food for Negan and I. 

His eyes widen as he looks at me, taking in my new appearance.

“What, Si? Never seen a girl with short hair before?” I ask, teasing.

He shakes his head. “I have. I just wasn’t expecting you to have cut your own. It looks good on you, fitting.”

I smile. “Thanks, Si.”

Leaning up, I kiss his cheek and then kick him out before Negan can Lucille him for staring at me. My husband knows Simon’s like a dad to me, the dad I never had, and that there’s nothing there. He just gets jealous and protective over me, not liking other men to stare. And, for once, I’m thankful, given the events of today.

As we eat, Negan and I stay on the bed, me snuggled up to his side. When we’re finished though, I look up at him. 

“I have to tell you something else.” I say.

His eyebrow raises and he looks at me, grining. “What’s that? You planning on buzzing anything else?” 

I laugh and playfully slap his bare chest. “No, asshole.”

He pretends to be hurt and rubs his chest, grinning. “Damn, girl. That hurt.”

I laugh and kiss his chest where I smacked him. “Feel better, Daddy?”

He grins that dimpled grin again and nods. “Mmhhmm. Now, what else you gotta tell me, babygirl?”

I smirk. “Well, Daddy…you see...”

He growls low in his throat. “Don’t tease me, little girl.”

I giggle. “I’m not, Daddy.”

I bring my hand down to rub my tummy. 

“You full from eating?” He asks, covering my hand on my tummy, rubbing what he thinks is a food baby.

“Nope. But, it’s nice to see you already rubbing my tummy. I can happily get used to this over the next 7 months.”

“7 months?” His brow creases in confusion for a moment before his eyes widen. “You...you’re...we’re…?”

I giggle and nod as I lean up to kiss him softly. 

“Yes, honey. I’m pregnant.” I say. “I’m 2 months along, and found out a few days ago. I was working on a story earlier, and that was gonna be how I told you, but shit happened, so I figured I’d just tell you.”

He lets out a high pitched squeal that I never would’ve expected from him, and pulls me right back into his arms and his lap. His beard tickles my neck as he grins against it, placing a soft kiss there. I giggle and wrap my arms ‘round him. Like I said, he’s a soft, 6’2” teddy bear wrapped in leather. 

My soft, 6’2” teddy bear wrapped in leather and I’m his buzzed haired girl. 

[divine-noire]

Mononucleosis Awareness Post

So I caught Mono participating in Hot Girl Summer™ (jk jk lmao) but I did get Mono, and this shit is not a fucking joke. If you feel like you might have it, please go to the doctor. Over the past 4 weeks, I have been going through literal medical hell from complications. I’m gonna list the symptoms I’ve had and if you feel like you might have it, go get looked at. I thought Mono was something only horny ass teens got in high school playing spin the bottle, I’m 26 (27 next month) and was NOT expecting this shit at all.

Fatigue

My first symptom that something was wrong was fatigue. This is not normal, everyday fatigue. This is actually waking up and feeling like the world is ending when you take your first step, fatigue. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. While driving, I put my emergency break on at red lights because I was afraid I would fall asleep while at the standstill. At work, if there were no calls, my head was down (luckily, my boss is only here twice a week so I could get away with this). At home, I was in bed by 6PM and when you do sleep, it’s immediate. There is no gradual lulling off to sleep. It’s face-meet-pillow-meet-morning-alarm type of sleep. But I was still tired no matter how much I slept so I started using No Doze to counteract the effects. At first, it was fine, but even then, I still had the underlying fatigue. It got so bad, I drove over a friend’s house in Greenbelt, MD which is about an hour and a half away with rush hour traffic, using every bit of energy I had in my body to get to her, because she said she would take care of me, which she did. But by the time I pulled up to her house, I basically almost fell out of the driver side door when she opened it for me. That is not an exaggeration, that is the level of exhaustion I felt from just driving that far without sleeping. We thought I had the flu or something flu-like, so she gave me fluids and alot of Day & NightQuil. It made the symptoms lessen, but it never made them go away.

Sore Throat

At the beginning, my throat merely felt scratchy. This lasted for about 3 days, before I knew it, my voice was gone and my throat was in so much pain I gave up talking. The pain is not akin to Strep Throat, if you’ve had that before. It is actually worse. My throat was swollen as a symptom of the virus, but it graduated into its own infection of severe Tonsillitis. It was so severe that I actually began having trouble swallowing from the amount of swelling that it caused. I had to receive a steroid injection in my butt to counteract the swelling and start methylprednisone (which wasn’t strong enough and I had to go back for regular prednisone 20mg). I couldn’t eat anything without pain, so I stuck to drinking a lot of fluids and ice water. Ice water became my guardian angel because my throat was in a constant state of burning pain. I also grew exodus on the back of my throat, past my tonsils, as a result of the infection in my throat, and had to gargle salt water like crazy everyday to get them out. The exodus hurts, it is hard and feels like cement on the back of your throat and it makes the Tonsillitis 10x worse than it already is. I didn’t have a voice at all for 12 days, I had to use a dry erase board for all interactions (it’s quicker than typing on my phone.) 

Nausea

Now my case may be different because the doctors keep telling me my nausea shouldn’t have gone on as long as it did and that I need to go see a Gastroenterologist ASAP but that’s a different story for a different post. Nausea was my worst and most persistent symptom to date. The kind of nausea you may feel will be persistent. I woke up nauseous to the point of my mouth salivating as though I were about to vomit everyday for about 2-2.5 weeks. This never settled. There was never a time my mouth was not salivating, I had to begin keeping paper cups at my desk to spit the residual saliva into throughout the day because it never subsided. One day, I had a salad for lunch from Panera even though I wasn’t hungry, I knew I should try to eat something. (By this time, my throat had made some progress and I could swallow some whole things.) I immediately regretted that decision when I lay in bed at midnight holding my stomach like the world was ending. I was so nauseous that I couldn’t get myself together enough to even get out of bed. The thing that makes the nausea symptom so bad (for me) is that it never made be actually vomit, it just created the sensation of needing to. Eventually, I broke down and stuck a straw down my throat just to alleviate the symptom a bit and threw up the salad, and it didn’t even look like it’d been digested properly. That made the nausea go away for the night, and after that I gave up eating anything solid hoping that would prevent any future nausea, spoiler alert: I was wrong. My salivating mouth picked up right where it left off, it was as though all I went through the night before didn’t even matter. My stomach was empty and still nauseated. That night, the nausea was so bad that I just knew something was off and I drove myself to the ER (Note: I drive myself to the ER that is less than 10-minutes away all the time to save money on an ambulance, if you feel you are not safe to drive, dial 911, it is better to just pay the ambulance than cause an accident and make your situation worse than it already is.). When I got there, I was beyond exhausted, nauseous, dizzy, I just felt like I was dying. The doctor brought me back, took my vitals, asked the usual questions. I told him about the nausea, the Mono diagnosis, he said he wanted me to get a temporary room while he ran some tests. I got a room and a nurse came in and gave me a shot of Zofran for the nausea that did absolutely nothing. It was so bad that when he came back in, I asked for Ipecac or a straw to induce vomiting again. Alarmed, he said they wanted to avoid me vomiting and gave me an additional shot of Zofran. That helped that time, but I still just felt overall terrible. The doctor came in later and told me my potassium levels were extremely low, explaining the extreme fatigue and dizziness, that my liver was swollen from the Mono, and that the nausea was alarming and he would be admitting me for treatment. I was shocked that this virus had done such a number on me. My throat had even worsened and was now even more swollen and painful than it was before (I hadn’t gotten the 20mg prednisone script yet.). I spent 2 days with an IV in my arm, eating mushy foods and sleeping in the hospital. I had to take off work because I was in no shape to even drive there, let alone get anything done. After the 2 days went by, I actually felt back to my normal self! I was so fucking happy to exist and not feel like dying after weeks of wanting to that I went home and started cleaning my room. I had let it get atrocious from not feeling well or feeling like doing anything besides sleeping. Shortly after I began, the fatigue kicked in, the only symptom to never leave, and I sat my ass down and watched Rick & Morty with Sebastia and went to sleep instead, which was probably the safer bet. Fast forward 8 nausea-free days, and guess what’s back??? It’s tolerable now, but still an extreme nuisance. I get my Zofran prescription and it does didly fucking squat to alleviate the nausea. I call the Urgent Care that diagnosed me and ask if there’s anything stronger for nausea and they tell me all the stronger shit will have me bedbound and loopy. Bills gotta get paid so we can’t have that. So that night, in a moment of nauseous desperation, I took double the dosage of the Zofran to alleviate the discomfort. Now, I understand I shouldn’t have done this, but I was DESPERATE and afterward, I felt great. It was the first time the medicine had done wtf the doctors said it would do and the way it was supposed to: quick, fast and in a motherfucking sprint. So I stupidly called the Urgent Care to ask them about the nausea medicine again (I have such a good relationship with this UC for some reason, probably because I hate my primary.) and told them what I’d done the night before and that I was now out of nausea meds and needed a refill before it came back, which was all true. Jessica, the nurse I always saw, was alarmed and spoke to the doctor on duty there, and told them about what I did. Then they cut me off and said to go ask my Primary for the refill because I’ve been utilizing them way too much (long story short). But she also said that I shouldn’t need that much Zofran and something else is going on and I need to be seen by a Gastro. That $40 co-pay appointment is still pending. Andddd I’ve been nausea-free for about a week now, but as I type this, my mouth just began salivating so it looks like I’m gonna be dealing with that again soon. Fuck.

Dizziness

My dizziness didn’t come full force until about 4 days ago (Week 4). I was out at a shopping center getting groceries and while I was parking at a nearby Dunkin Donuts, the world legit started slanting. I felt like I’d been drugged all of a sudden. My skin felt cold and clammy, everything felt out of focus and I immediately needed to lie down. Luckily, it came right after I’d put my car in park and had the opportunity to put my seat back and do so. I waited about 10 minutes maybe, and then I felt ok enough to get out and go get some food because I thought I was just hungry because I hadn’t eaten yet. Even standing in line and waiting for the food afterward was difficult. I had to sit down or else I’d fall down. I got back in my car and ate and laid down again, went back to the store to get eggs I forgot to grab before, and on the walk back to my car almost walked into another parked car. Of course, people saw and probably thought I was drunk or something. I was embarrassed but didn’t have the motor skills energy to explain the situation of feeling like I was in 2 bodies at once. This symptom has come and gone as it pleases, but luckily after a good 2-hour nap that day when I got home, I felt alot better. 

Poor Appetite

While battling this virus, I have lost 10 pounds and still counting in the past 4 weeks. While it’s great to fit into clothes I was once too thick to get past my thighs, it is not the way I wanted to lose the weight. In the beginning, I always felt full no matter what, which made me not want to eat, combined with the nausea, it made eating something I just wasn’t in the mood to ever do. This went on for weeks, which caused the weight loss. I learned later that my swollen liver pressing against my stomach is what caused the sensation of fullness, hence, not ever feeling like I should eat. Now, my appetite has returned, and I’ve been eating nothing but starchy, fatty nonsense my diet never would’ve allowed before I got sick. And even with all the newfound calories I’ve been non-stop digesting (seriously guys, pizza 5 days straight, bread bowls, bacon egg and cheese croissants, cheesecake, donuts...) I’m still shedding pounds. My Gold’s Gym Membership is gathering dust because I can’t go workout with my body still always in fatigue-mode and it’s probably just not kosher to do with this kind of virus. My mom said I should celebrate for now until it becomes a cause for concern later, but I think I should probably be concerned now since the earlier you find something out the better health-wise. I lowkey did some research and think I might have Hepatitis-C from the virus, which is curable, but sucks all the same if I’m right. I inherited my mother’s extremely poor immune system, so I really wouldn’t be surprised. I’ll post before and after photos of my weight loss separately, don’t want Tumblr turning me into the Face of Mono™ because of this post. 

Swollen Lymph Nodes

This was one of the lesser symptoms that went away by week 2-2.5. They are definitely sensitive and noticeable. I found that icing them alleviated a lot of the discomfort and made it tolerable, but overall, these were the least of my worries.

If you experience any of these symptoms or think you may have Mono, definitely get yourself checked out. They can do a rapid test at any Urgent Care or ER and let you know during your visit if you have it. This shit is not a joke. I’m still dealing with the symptoms right now and have no inclination of when they will be gone. The literature says anywhere from a few weeks to a year, I’m praying for the initial option but I have no way of knowing for sure. I say all this to say, pay attention to and know your body, guys. You only get one. 

[paradisecost]

TIMELINE: ATTICUS

Are you ready for 1600 words of Atticus lore? Then BOY HOWDY do I have some good news for you. I ran out of steam by the time I hit the last few verses so they have way less detail, but whATEVER. I’ve also completely skimmed over so many details (like Atticus’ lingering issues with being cut off from his Indigenous heritage; his father’s disappearance; his relationships with various friends and lovers throughout his life; some of the shit he did and witnessed throughout his time with the gang and in order to escape them; etc) because otherwise the word count would be RIDICULOUS.

Note: There’s no set time period for this. A lot of Atticus’ mainverse is tagged as “v: age of sail” for the convenience of keeping most of my verses vaguely within the Black Sails timeline (1705-1720 usually) but realistically these are probably within the 1800s somewhere. The real question is: who gives a shit, it’s MY sandbox and history is what I say it is.

Under the cut for length. Warnings include talk of gangs, gang life, and so on.

Note: This is VERY much a work in progress and almost no detail has really been hammered out, especially regarding Atticus' time as an outlaw within the gang since I have a lot of research to do in that area (since I know more about modern gangs and cult dynamics than Ye Olde ones). Nonetheless, all of these verses are open for interaction/asks/etc - though verses marked as (intermission) or (segue) really exist more to bridge some verses together.

v: before it all (childhood) (0-13)

Atticus' early, pre-outlaw life, spanning from his birth to the age of about 12-13. He lives with his mother and sister in a small town in the middle of buckass nowhere; his father visits once a year or so up until Atticus is about 10, when he mysteriously stops coming. It isn't long after this that Atticus first becomes involved with the [redacted] gang, likely through befriending one of the younger members by accident. By the time he's about 12, he's built up a steadfast trust and codependence on the group - and his relationship with his mother has steeply declined, in part due to her reticence about his Native father and determination to erase any non-Whiteness from their children, and in part because of how vehemently she opposes his involvement with the gang.

v: drinking the water (gang member) (12-28)

Spans around eight years, from when Atticus is 12-13 to roughly 20-28. Atticus is ass-deep in the cult-like dynamic of the gang and has lost all contact with his mother, though he and his sister exchange letters here and there. He is extremely loyal to the group and considers them 'his people', is inherently distrustful of outsiders and has precisely no interest in living amongst them.

Grievances with the gang's behaviour towards both him and others start accumulating, however, when Atticus is about 18-20. They start off small, but as his sense of self develops and he starts to get more of a feel for who he is as a person, the problems start building up. This may be in part due to exposure to other dissenting members of the group who were swiftly either disposed of or, uh, re-educated; Atticus did not like seeing that shit At All despite his usual cognitive dissonance.

That isn't by any means the only factor; as he gets older, he's also granted significantly more freedom, which results in exposure to all kinds of people and places that he simply wasn't aware of as a kid. By the time he's about 25, he knows for sure that the life they're living now isn't one he wants to keep, but you don't simply leave a gang like that. It takes him a couple more years to a) figure out some kind of plan and b) gather the resources, courage, and knowledge he'll need to pull it off and live.

v: the aftermath (post gang) (28-30)

Somehow, Atticus finds his way out of cult-gang hell. There are no dramatics involved - he simply disappears during a hunt one day, to arouse the least suspicion. Unfortunately, he wasn't alone on the hunt- the gang's leader had sent someone along with him to keep an eye on him, as (unbeknownst to Atticus) his growing resentment and flightiness had not gone unnoticed by the rest of the group. It's likely that the person sent with him was someone Atticus liked a great deal, as the leader hoped that this would dissuade him from doing anything stupid to get away--

--but needless to say, they were later found dead in the woods, and Atticus was gone. He spent the next two years flitting around as much as possible, trying to get as far away as he could. The gang sent out hunts for him, of course- at first with the intention of simply talking to him and seeing if they could persuade him to come back. After Atticus started killing them off, they sent out searches for him with significantly less friendly intentions.

It's during this time that he takes on the name Atticus as his own. No forename/surname: just Atticus, or Mr. Atticus if folks are feeling polite. It's also during this time that he acquires Bad Jim, a black and white horse that accompanies him for the next several years, often as his sole companion. He buys Bad Jim (then unnamed) from a horse trader entirely legitimately, but pays an absurd amount for him because the trader--according to Atticus--had "clocked [him] as a wanted fella of some sort and wanted to capitalize on his desperation".

(The truth is a little different: the trader had, indeed, clocked him as a wanted man, but he raised the price of the horse to compensate himself for the risk of selling a horse to a possible felon).

It’s during this time that he meets The Captain--then called Amelia--for the first time; the two stay in contact for the remainer of Atticus’ life.

The gang stops actively searching for him about a year and a half in, though Atticus still doesn't let his guard down for a good couple of years afterwards. During this time, higher-ranking members of the gang begin to spread the story that Atticus is dead. In later years, this story will become that Atticus never existed - younger members who join later on have no idea who he is, as to their knowledge, no-one escapes the gang and lives.

v: solo outlaw (30-36)

No longer quite so intensely on the run from the gang, Atticus encounters a problem: he is definitely still wanted by various authorities for his involvement with them. Not only that, but he has no damn idea how to exist outside of them. He makes a few token attempts at honest work--tries taking odd jobs for people, herds cattle and has a brief stint as a stableboy--but in the end, he just can't take to it. Within a few months, he's more or less going off the rails: where before he'd at least tried to steer himself towards being what he thought of as a Good Man(TM), he repeatedly finds himself committing actions he would abhor from anyone else. He tries real hard to find some kind of moral balance between doing what he's good at and doing what he wants to be good at, but alas, the poor bastard's more or less on his own and having a shit time of it.

Other than that, no fucking idea about the details of this verse. He's an outlaw still - he's just on his own instead of with a gang, and more often than not, he takes on jobs from people who need someone killed or threatened.

It's during this time (when he’s about 32) that he meets the woman who eventually becomes Icarus' mother. There's no immediate spark, nothing like that; she neither trusts nor likes him at first. It's when he tells her--a half-Black, half-Indigenous woman--that his father was Indigenous that she first gives him the time of day, and it's long after that, when he talks about his feelings of inbetween-ness and his frustration at being cut off from half of his heritage that she starts to actually warm to him even platonically.

Icarus is born soon afterwards, but by then, Atticus and [I'll think of a name one day]'s relationship has already begun to... not deteriorate, exactly, but shift. They were never really in love to begin with so much as they were good friends who found a comfort in one another they couldn’t find elsewhere.

Anyway the point is, they separate when Icarus is still very small; Atticus is losing direction and feels as stuck as he did before, and his presence is causing more problems than it solves. He vows to stay in touch, though, and he does- and later in life, much of the money he makes from bounty-hunting goes back to his friend and their kid.

It's towards the end of this verse that Bad Jim is killed in combat, during a run-in with Atticus' old gang - specifically some newer, younger members of it that don't know him, but Atticus is able to recognise them. The horse falls atop Atticus as it dies and essentially crushes him to the ground- he's only saved from being completely crushed by the overturned wagon beside him that takes some of Bad Jim's weight. Despite still sustaining severe injuries from it, Bad Jim's death saves Atticus' life: he has no choice but to play dead until the shooting's over and the smoke clears. The gang members give him a cursory check to see if he's dead, but given that they have no idea who Atticus is, they have no reason to do anything but check and move on.

v: in recovery (intermission) (36-38)

It takes Atticus a long time to recover from the injuries sustained in the fight that took Bad Jim; he's essentially forced to find somewhere to lie low and recuperate, and has to rely on the kindness of strangers and mere acquaintances during it.

Towards the end of this time, he also acquires the dog that now accompanies him almost everywhere; an Anatolian Shepherd I still don’t have a name for.

v: bounty hunter (segue) (38-42)

TL;DR; Having recognised that he Fucking Hates being an outlaw but isn't much good at anything else, Atticus finds a compromise: he becomes a bounty hunter, straddling both sides of the law at once.

It's during this time that he he meets Isaiah, who helps him out of several rough patches.

v: bounty hunter (42+)

Just the previous verse but at the default ‘canon’ point in the timeline sdkfjnsdjfkn. All interactions take place in this verse by default, which is often also tagged as "v: age of sail (atticus)". Local cowboy is a sort of bounty hunter, blahblahblah.

[kenzieam]

Beauty and the Blackheart - Chapter Two

@jewels2876​​​  @moonbeambucky​​  @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​​​  @iammarylastar​​​@captstefanbrandt​​​  @badassbaker​​​  @pinknerdpanda​​​  

I know I’m forgetting people, sorry. If you want in, hit me.

************************************************************************

Rating: M

Warnings: Language, general nuttiness, smut

************************************************************************

Okay, so......

Lev, the serious one, is visiting her wild-child twin brother, Clint. There she meets Bucky, a tall, dark, brooding mystery who’s her total opposite in every way. Of course, she’s intrigued even as her mind screams to run for safety, but what could go wrong, right??

***********************************************************************

Lev glanced up from the elevated counter in front of her and grinned as a familiar face pushed open the door and entered.

“Hey Spider,” she called, genuinely happy to see the man.

“Hey, little lady. How are you?” The biker called back, chains rattling as he moved.

“Getting by.”

“I see that, looking fine this morning, honey.”

Lev smirked mildly at him. A shameless flirt, Spider was harmless, totally devoted to his ol’ lady, Sparkle, but guaranteed to throw out little tidbits like this on the regular just to make the recipient red.

“Your head’s looking mighty shiny this morning, handsome.” Lev lobbed back, enjoying the now familiar game between her and the shop’s frequent flyer. He belonged to a genuine motorcycle club, yet still found time to pop into Blackheart every few days for something. Lev figured he liked the conversation, he and Clint got on like a house afire.

He tipped a salute then glanced over the front of the shop. “Buck around?”

“Haven’t seen him yet.” Lev had sort of fallen into the role of temporary front-end manager and had spent the last two weeks managing appointments, payments and supply ordering for Blackheart Ink.

Only a few days after Lev's arrival, Nat’s father, according to Nat a batshit old man who had no goddamn common sense, had fallen off a ladder while attempting to install a birdhouse on a towering pole in his backyard for her mother and broken a decent amount of bones. Also, according to Nat, her daddy, while having no sense of self-preservation, fortunately healed rather quickly from his varied injuries and boo-boos over the years. Regardless, Nat had been torn, with Lev offering to fill in at the shop so Nat could go home and help until her father was back on his feet.

After a few trying days, Lev found she liked helping, greeting and laughing with regulars, fielding phone calls, bantering with the boys.

Steve was hilarious, and an unapologetic big brother, displaying a heart-warming amount of concern and affection for Lev right from the start, like she was just another little sister, even defending her from her own twin sometimes, letting her hide behind him as Clint spazzed randomly, suddenly convinced that Lev needed a Sonic the Hedgehog tattooed on her wrist, or that she would look great with that new sparkly pink tongue post they’d just brought in and he’d chased her around the shop waving a clamp.

It was fun to add the big guy in on their games and life at the shop was never boring, Lev even found herself relaxing her stringent boundaries, the rules she usually lived by. She still was a long way off from her fun and free-spirited brother however, and never did that seem more obvious than the rare times Bucky interacted with her.

He remained a lurking shadow most of the time, loosening up around his friends and regular customers, but he seemed to have taken Lev stepping in to help as a personal attack, alternating between glowering at her and outright ignoring her.

In truth, Lev preferred being ignored, for when he did turn those intense eyes on her, Lev felt out of control, little sparks racing under her skin, a set of butterflies suddenly alive in her belly.

And wasn’t that just a big old hot mess.

They were polar opposites. Bucky seemed to live on coffee, while Lev limited herself severely. He smoked like a chimney, both tobacco and pot, while Lev had seen too many blackened lungs in Anatomy class to ever partake. The only green thing she’d seen near his mouth was the lettuce of the fast-food burgers he wolfed down, and he’d never even heard of edamame, staring at Lev’s lunch bento one day like it was toxic waste. In addition, he had a filthy mouth, peppering all conversations with liberal f-bombs, squinting in confusion at Lev when she grumbled something along the lines of ‘for Pete’s sake’ after spilling her water, not able to comprehend an exclamation that didn’t rhyme with ‘duck’.

He’d never outright said it to her, but the thought radiated from him like body heat, ‘what a fucking princess’.

And the girls! It seemed every night there was some new one strutting into the shop near closing, cooing his name, ready to head over to the bar down the street, then no doubt back to his house for wild sex.

They were all tall, hot and polished, wearing dresses wrapped tighter than ace bandages around their pert little asses and surgically enhanced breasts, eyeing Lev derisively as they passed her desk. Dismissing her with a sniff, already looking past her for the object of their attention.

Lev tried not to look, but Jesus, it seemed whenever Bucky would emerge from the back, having heard his newest siren’s call, that the woman would launch herself at him, start devouring his face and he just went with it. Catching them and slamming them against a wall, grabbing their faces to angle their mouths for a deeper kiss, making them moan and whimper his name.

Lev wondered idly if this was done for her benefit, if Bucky hated her so much that he was trying to make her uncomfortable enough to leave except for, beyond a derisive snort or slap on his shoulder, Steve and Clint seemed to be used to and tolerate his manwhore ways, or had at least learned to ignore them.

“You alright?” Steve had asked a few days ago, as Tiffany or Amber or who-the-fuck-ever swallowed Bucky’s tongue in full view of the desk, for the door to the supply room had swung back open after Bucky had slammed it shut while lurching inside with his newest spider monkey. His eyes trekked warily from the display back to Lev, forehead furrowed in concern as he studied her face. “I can tell him to fuck off, you know. He doesn’t need to be-”

“It’s fine.” Lev replied breezily, although she felt anything but. This wasn’t her permanent job, and Bucky was nothing and nobody to her. “It’s his shop.”

Steve studied her quietly, seemed about to say more. Sure, it was his shop and he’d been pulling this shit for years and Steve and Clint had learned to ignore it, but that didn’t make it right, especially with someone so… pure as Lev nearby.

“He’s-” Steve broke off, rubbing his chin. “Buck’s complicated-”

“He’s a whore.” Lev startled slightly, surprised at the venom behind her words. Again, WHY THE FUCK did it matter to her?

Steve shrugged, a hint of sadness curving his lips downward. He didn’t elaborate and Lev sensed there was a story there but it hardly mattered. Nat would be back soon, and Lev would go home and start practicing medicine for real and eventually she’d meet her own Prince Charming and Bucky could stay here, his cock rotting off from whatever STD he’d finally caught.

“Hey Spider.” A deep voice suddenly called, startling Lev out of her thoughts. Bucky lumbered into her peripheral, a genuine smile on his face as he greeted the other man. “Head on back, I’m all set up.” He gestured for Spider to pass then turned to face Lev. Any geniality in his voice died, all light left his eyes.

“You’re fucking up my appointments.”

Lev stared wordlessly, trying to think back on what she could have possibly messed up. Exasperated, Bucky strode to the elevated counter and reached over, his height making it easy and all but ripped the appointment book out from under her hands. He stabbed a thick finger at tomorrow’s first appointment.

“A memorial tat first thing in the goddamn morning?” He hissed.

Lev was thoroughly confused. ‘First thing’ at Blackheart was 11 am, how the hell was that the ass-crack of dawn?

“And a goddamn ‘memorial’ tattoo? What, some crying housewife wailing about her daddy dying? Wanting a set of angel wings and ‘always in my heart’ floating above it?”

Now Lev saw red. As a trauma resident, she dealt with death on the regular, grief was not something she took lightly.

“Fuck you.” She hissed, too angry to realize what she’d just said, for one of the first times in her buttoned-up life. “A memorial tattoo isn’t hardcore enough for you? You’re too fucking hungover from the night before to make it in that early, when the rest of the civilized world has been up and contributing to society for hours already? Or are you just too sore from fucking whatever whore you dragged home? These are important to people, Bucky. It’s family that they don’t have anymore and they’re trusting you to immortalize what they’ve lost! In my opinion there’s no greater honor to imbed something like that permanently into someone’s skin! You don’t want any bullshit angel wings any more then fucking tell me like a decent fucking person, you fucking dickhead!” She slammed her hand down on the book to illustrate, the sound sharp like a slap in the silent room.

Lev broke off, breathing hard, her pulse racing. She’d never, never lost control like that before and she’d just sworn more in the last two minutes than she had her whole adult life.

Bucky eyed her appraisingly, he didn’t look mad per se, but she’d definitely surprised him, and he looked torn between snarling back and just ignoring her again.

His lip twitched and Lev expected him to open his mouth and start bellowing but he grinned. It was fast, gone in a flash as though it had escaped in a moment of weakness but, for a heartbeat, he’d done something other than glower at her.

“Duly noted, princess.” He drawled, then the curtain seemed to fall over his eyes and Lev became the invisible girl again, staring after him in shock as he turned and strode away, slamming the door of his room behind him.

****************************************************************************

The next morning Lev shifted her weight nervously, fingers curling as she studied the appointment book. The memorial client Bucky had chewed her out for yesterday was due any minute and Lev didn’t know what to do. Bucky hadn’t expressly told her he wouldn’t do the tat, so she couldn’t move the woman to another artist, but she was awfully tempted to head off the lady the moment she walked in with some excuse about Bucky needing to cancel last minute and saving her from dealing with him and his shitty attitude.

While she regretted her loss of temper and foul language, Lev didn’t regret tearing a strip off the man yesterday. Bucky had needed a wake-up call but the way he’d reacted still made her shiver and she wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing. The door chimed as it opened and Lev inhaled sharply, trying to decide what to do. The woman was older middle-aged, soft and wholesome looking, greying hair in a low bun, the very last person you’d expect to get inked.

Great, not only was this woman here for a memorial tattoo, but it was most likely her first one. What an introduction, being shepherded into the world of body art by King Asshole himself.

This wasn’t her business, this wasn’t even her real job, she had no right or power to do anything about it but she couldn’t let this woman walk into her appointment thinking Bucky was going to give her his best when he’d already shown he wouldn’t.

“Hello, I know you’re here for-”

“Good Morning.” A honeyed voice overrode hers and Lev startled, snapping her head sideways. Bucky appeared in her peripheral vision, smiling charmingly.

“You must be my eleven o’clock.”

The woman actually giggled, already enchanted and Lev gaped, stunned by the turn of events. Where the hell was the growling, miserable bastard she’d dealt with yesterday? Who’d ignored her all day after their angry encounter?

Had he trimmed his beard?

Lev didn’t even realize he owned a pair of jeans that didn’t have holes in them, yet this pair looked…. Good. Shit, she hadn’t really paid attention before, put off by his general aura, but Bucky had an amazing pair of thighs, muscular and straining his jeans in the best way. And don’t even get her started on the way his plain black t-shirt stretched over his chest, back and shoulders.

Jesus.

Lev winced, shocked by her internal monologue as Bucky gestured the woman past him, flicking an indecipherable glance at Lev before following her to his room, the door closing quietly behind him. Within moments, one of Bucky’s more mild playlists began to play lowly, filling the air with the mellow first notes of ‘Crying Shame’ by The Teskey Brothers.

The phone rang then, jarring Lev from any more speculation and she nearly dropped the receiver before answering, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Blackheart Ink and Body Mod, this is Lev, how can I help you?”

***************************************************************************

The surrealness continued, with none of Bucky’s usual hard rock/metal music, instead James Blunt’s ‘Bonfire Heart’ following ‘Crying Shame’ and Lev wondered what the hell was going on. Clint, who unlike his friend, had no trouble working early, had been in his room since 9:30, working on a special client currently on leave who wanted an intricate sleeve done before he was deployed again, merely grabbing a second can of Monster from the back fridge this morning to tide him over and Lev didn’t expect to see him for another few hours still. Steve wasn’t due in until 2 or 3 o’clock, having taken the morning off and there were no walk-ins yet to worry about.

She busied herself for a bit cleaning the display case for body jewelry and a tiny little voice in the back of her mind began to muse about what it would be like to maybe, just maybe, pop her cherry and get a piercing. Lev literally had none to speak of, not even her ears were pierced, and she had found herself wondering more and more in the last week what it would be like to sit for the needle, feel Bucky’s breath on her face as he leaned close to mark the place on her skin, the quiet concentration setting his jaw just so; for while Bucky was a bastard, he took body piercing seriously and never seemed to show attitude, even for basic ones, the giggling girls queuing up for naval studs, or nose rings.

Bucky’s new playlist continued, and Lev was pleasantly surprised by the contents. Was this a hidden side she hadn’t seen yet, or was he in some way taking the piss?

Her thoughts were so jumbled around this man and she hated feeling confused. But either way, regardless of what she thought and felt, it didn’t matter. She was leaving soon, going back to her real life and, even if she wasn’t, they were too different.

He was fire, she was ice.

What business did a doctor have with a tattoo artist, and she didn’t mean any kind of bullshit class structure. They were literally opposite ends of the spectrum, a deductive job of reasoning and knowledge versus one of artistic talent and freedom.

And, even if their careers were somehow compatible, their personalities definitely were not. Lev felt vaguely inferior around Bucky, as if by foregoing fun for structure made her less than him somehow. He looked down on her, dismissed her as a princess, and while she wasn’t free from guilt, believing him to be mannerless prick, she couldn’t shake the disappointment of somehow having failed with Bucky.

The door to Bucky’s room opened suddenly, and Lev startled, looking up to see that an hour had already passed, before realizing that the woman was in tears.

Oh shit.

Lev felt a bolt of panic, eyes wide, as her mind raced. What had he said to her?

The woman headed her way, with Bucky trailing slowly behind and Lev braced herself, words of apology jumbling in her mind. But, as she approached, Lev saw that the woman was smiling through her tears, it was a joyful crying, not a sorrowful one.

“Look,” the woman called. Reaching for Lev she turned to expose the back of her shoulder, pointing excitedly. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Lev looked down, down to the woman’s pale, soft skin. Although covered by a clear bandage, Lev could see that, indeed, the tattoo was beautiful. A trio of African Violets, so realistic and lifelike, with the simple word, ‘Forever’ underneath. While not a huge tattoo, it looked like a goddamn picture, three-dimensional and perfect; easily the most beautiful ink Lev had ever seen.

“My husband loved violets; I grew them for him. Our house and garden were full.” The woman sniffled, pulling a tissue from her pocket. Bucky had stepped to within a few feet of the women and, if Lev had looked up, she would have noticed that he was locked on her, watching her every reaction to this woman and her story. “After he died…. I couldn’t grow them anymore. Not that I didn’t want to, but I literally couldn’t. They wouldn’t grow for me anymore, its like he took them with him when he left.” She sniffled, hard, and Lev felt like crying herself. “These are my violets now; I get to keep them with me forever.”

Lev swallowed her tears, knowing that if she started, she’d never be able to finish for, even though she was serious and disciplined, in her heart of hearts, she secretly wanted a love like what this woman had had too, a connection that transcended death. A tear escaped anyway, trailing down her cheek and she wiped at it before it started a tsunami.

“That’s wonderful.”

The woman smiled, looking suddenly lighter, a glow about her. “I have to go; I must show my daughter!” She whirled and, before anyone could react, grabbed Bucky in a tight hug. If he was surprised, he hid it well, hugging her back and whispering something to her, then pulling away almost brusquely. He held up two fingers to Lev, indicating his fee then whirled, disappearing back into his room.

“What a lovely man.” The woman gushed, following a stunned Lev as she returned to the counter. “So gentle and polite! He listened to me ramble and gave me exactly what I wanted. My daughter will be in next, just you watch, wanting the same thing!” She added on a huge tip, and all but floated out of the shop, leaving a gobsmacked Lev in her wake.

Lev stared at the money for a beat, then carefully divided it, adding to the till the shop’s cut before stacking the rest in the little pirate’s treasure chest marked ‘Barnes’ hidden under the edge of the counter. Taking a pencil, she crossed out the appointment in the book then just stood there for a moment, unsure what to do next.

But before she could figure out her next move, Lev felt heat at her back, a body move close. She froze, realizing Bucky stood directly behind her, his chest inches from her back and her heart started galloping. His spicy masculine musk surrounded her as he lowered his head over her shoulder, some of the hair that escaped his man bun brushing her cheek.

She held her breath, feeling a crazed mix of fear and exhilaration. Was he going to yell at her, kiss her?

He paused, as if savouring the moment, or maybe the scent of Lev’s fear and breathed out. His exhale was slightly unsteady, as if it pained him then he spoke, his voice so low that she wouldn’t have been able to hear him if he weren’t mere inches away.

“You were right.”