#its mostly just for my portfolio since I want to get more into book covers

[sidedoodlez]

It’s been a hot sec since I posted, thought I would show you guys a little bit of what I been up to. Just a fun line of faux-romance book covers- based off of really cheesy fic tropes because I am no writer haha. 

But hey if ya’ll got any prompt ideas feel free to tell me in the tags I love to read em :) 

[prayedtoyou]

overrated - read it on ao3

<<  when you get home, will you help me with a project?

>>  sure thing. i have to stop by the gas station on my way back, want anything?

<<  yeah, grab me some of those chocolate covered raisins that i like

>>  you got it. see you in 15

Dean had plans to go home after his three classes of the day to watch Netflix with his hand in his pants and eat pepper jack Cheez-Its until his stomach hurt, but he supposes it wouldn’t hurt to cancel those plans to help out his roommate for a few hours. Dean doesn’t often interrupt plans with himself, especially on a day where he doesn’t have any homework and he doesn’t have to show up for a shift at the salvage yard, but Cas is someone Dean doesn’t mind giving up a  few luxuries for.

Dean met Cas in their Design 101 class during freshman year. It was nothing more than a foundation class, one that Dean and Cas had to take in pursuit of their BFA degrees in film and television, and photography, respectively. Dean expected to jack off to the course by flirting with the fellow classmates while still paying just enough attention to pass the class and turn in projects and assignments on time, but when Cas started sitting next to him in the third week of the semester and heckled him about listening to the professor and taking better notes, Dean really started to buckle down and take it a little more seriously.

They’ve been friends ever since. They had late night study sessions during their first year when they were only an elevator ride away from each other’s dorm rooms. Their first college summer was mostly spent at the Biggerson’s just off SCAD’s campus where Cas served tables; Dean would come in to bother him, drink coffee, and take advantage of the free WiFi. They found an apartment they could barely afford just south of the metro area and moved in a week before the new school year started. They still have that same apartment.

This was to Charlie’s disappointment, at first. She had suggested moving in together before Cas had and Dean had been on the fence about it. He loved Charlie, they got along, she understood his nerdy references, they had similar taste in women--but he had been holding out for another photography major to make his move. She quickly forgave him when she met and later moved in with her girlfriend, Dorothy.

There was just something about Cas that set him apart from Dean’s other friends. It might have to do with how passionate Cas was about his classes and major; since sixth grade, he’s known that he would grow up to be a photographer for National Geographic so he could travel the world and take pictures of all his favorite creatures. Or it might have to do with his sense of humor--a little dark and always just flirtatious enough to make Dean wonder just how serious he is and whether or not he should laugh or take him up on his offers.

More than likely, though, it has to do with how attractive he is, how his smile is so bright it puts the sun to shame, how his laugh makes Dean’s heart swell up like a helium balloon, how he’s intelligent and eloquent, but also absolutely clueless about a lot of stuff Dean considers to be required life knowledge. Does most of that knowledge revolve around Star Wars, Back to the Future, and Indiana Jones movie references? Yes, but that’s beside the point.

And that’s what led Dean to living with the guy for going on three years, to spending entire days dedicated to showing Cas his favorite movies and shows, to picking up dark chocolate Raisinets on his way home from school, to walking into their apartment and calling out Cas’s name just like Ricky Ricardo.

Cas shouts back from the opposite side of the apartment where their bedrooms are. Dean finds Cas in his room, furniture pushed away from one wall and replaced with Cas’s favorite reading chair from the living room (that old, forest-green armchair that Cas found at an antique store on the Savannah River that Dean verbally hated, but secretly used when Cas wasn’t around because it’s about the most comfortable thing in the world), and a camera set up on a tripod facing the chair. Cas is wearing that white button down that looks especially good against the tan he got over the summer, the one that matches Dean’s after they spent several long days on Tybee Island right before their senior year started.

“So, what’s the project?” Dean asks, handing over the box of Raisinets. He curses at himself for forgetting to get a snack of his own while he was out.

Cas takes the box with a smile. “Thanks, Dean. This one is based on touch and what emotions it brings out in us, but we can’t have more than one subject in the shot. So, I need you to put this on.” Cas reaches out and drops a small black object into Dean’s palm.

It’s… a tube of lipstick.

“Uh, Cas? I thought we’ve established that I’m not really much of a model.”

Cas rolls his eyes, no doubt remembering the arguments they had on the river walk during their second year when Cas tried to shoot Dean for an assignment that ended up with them deciding that Dean would stick with filming and Cas would recruit performing arts majors to be his models. “I know, I'm not taking pictures of you, you’re taking pictures of me. I already have the camera focused and everything, you just need to put that on, give me a few kisses, and snap some pictures.”

Dean’s brain short-circuits. “K-kisses?”

“Yeah. I’m using lipstick kisses to represent my past relationships and how I feel about them touching me. Just cheek and forehead kisses. We’re not going to be Frenching or anything.”

“Oh.” Dean looks down at the lipstick, caught somewhere between disappointment and relief, wondering if it would be better or worse if these kisses were meant for Cas’s lips instead of the rest of his face. Would it even be right of him to take Cas up on this offer when he already fantasizes about putting kisses all over Cas’s skin? Would it be wrong for their first kisses to be over some project? “I don’t know how I feel about this, Cas.”

“About what, kissing me? They’re not even real kisses, you just have to pucker up like you're kissing your mom.”

Dean chews on his lip. Would it be so bad to take advantage of the situation and indulge in something he’s wanted since their second semester together? Shouldn’t he be a good friend and roommate and help Cas with his project, no matter the requirements?

Cas must see the uncertainty in Dean’s expression because he continues with, “Come on, Dean, we’re graduating next semester, we’re practically professionals. Are you really going to be embarrassed about a little lipstick when you could be filming HBO sex scenes a year from now?”

Dean looks back up at Cas. If he’s going to insist, who is Dean to tell him no? “Alright, asshole, I’ll do it. But you owe me.”

Cas smiles wide and, damn, Dean would wear lipstick every day if it meant Cas would look at him like that. “Okay, there’s a mirror behind you. It doesn’t have to be perfect, just put some on and lay it on me.”

Dean turns to find Cas’s mirror hung up with his portfolio. Photos are hung, tacked, and taped up from vacations, day trips, school projects, and family holidays. Dean is up there a few times: laughing on the opposite side of the table from Cas at Biggerson’s, a selfie of the two of them under the unflattering flash of a smartphone in a dark movie theater, the only good shot Cas got of Dean that day on the river walk, Dean asleep on the couch with a book folded up in his arms like a teddy bear.

Dean didn’t even know Cas took that last one.

He puts on the lipstick, ignoring the photos of himself. It’s definitely not as easy as he thought it would be--staying inside the lines was something he’s improved upon since childhood, but crayons are a lot different from makeup. He manages to swipe the color onto his face, grimacing at the taste of it.

When he looks back at Cas, all he gets is a blank stare and a slight nod. Feeling less than confident with deep red lips, Dean steps up to the plate.

“Where do you want it?”

Dean can hear the click of Cas’s throat as he swallows. He raises a hand, pointing to the knob of his left cheekbone.

“Here.”

Dean steps just a little closer. Cas is about his height, maybe an inch shorter, but it’s not even noticeable when Dean tilts Cas’s face up with a finger and thumb gently pinching his chin. He leans in and--smells Cas’s shampoo, notices the pores on his nose, finds trimmed whiskers along his cheeks--presses his lips right where Cas wanted them.

With the lipstick, Dean can’t taste Cas’s skin, but he can smell the face wash where his nose is sticking into Cas’s temple. Like pomegranates.

When he pulls away, he knows he’s blushing, but he has no way of hiding it, so he just smiles and says, “That’s a good color for you.”

Cas, a little pink himself, scoffs. “Just take the picture, Taylor Swift.”

Cas takes his seat, Dean steps behind the camera. He clicks the shutter button a few times, watching Cas’s face on the screen. He’s leaning his face up and slightly away, lips parted, eyes cast toward the door instead of the lense. It’s a great angle to show off that jawline of his.

Dean was never destined to be a model, but Cas looks just as good in photos as he does in real life. He knows exactly how to position himself, which light to use, how his face should look. He could model, if he ever wanted. Dean asked him if he would star in a short film Dean had to film, but Cas just laughed and said if he wanted to act he would have gone into performing arts.

“That should be enough,” Cas notes, and Dean realizes that he had taken way too many photos while thinking about Cas’s face. He backs away from the camera. “I’ll need a fresh layer for each kiss, so apply some more lipstick.”

Dean does as he’s told and goes back to Cas to kiss him again. This time it’s just above Cas’s right eyebrow. They go on like this a handful more times, until Cas has lipstick stains across his entire face. Each time feels like the first, and Dean has a harder and harder time removing his lips from Cas’s skin as they progress through the photos. Cas doesn’t seem to be as phased--he sits right down and assumes his pose. In each and every picture, Cas mostly just looks sad.

“Why do you look like that?” Dean finally asks after the sixth kiss, snapping pictures.

Cas unfurrows his brow and looks up from the floor. “Like what?”

“Like your dog just died.”

Cas cracks a small smile. “These kisses represent each of my exes and how I felt about my relationships with them.”

“They were all that bad?”

“They certainly weren’t good. After being cheated on, left for someone else, and dumped over text, I don’t exactly have fond memories of most of these people.”

“I remember when that dickhead Balth slept with that web designer. You didn’t leave the house for a week.”

“You took me to the Atlanta Aquarium and pointed at all the ugliest fish and said they looked like him.”

“And I was right. ”

When Cas smiles broadly, Dean sneaks in another picture. The shutter of the lense gives him away, but Cas doesn’t mention it.

“Remember when I watched 500 Days of Summer eight times in two days?” Cas asks. “That’s because Hannah kept telling me she didn’t want a relationship and ended up leaving me for someone who she got engaged to after five months.”

Dean chuckles low under his breath. “Yeah, I remember. I had to force you into the shower and then we went out for burgers.”

“And when Gadreel drunk texted me all the things he hated about me--”

“We toilet papered his frat house and went to a baseball game the next day. We got so sunburnt.”

Cas laughs at the memory and Dean captures it with the camera. He looks so much better like this, happy and covered in kisses from someone who actually cares about him. He deserves to be this happy for the rest of his life.

Cas sobers up and looks at Dean. His expression is soft, something closer to adoration than anything else. Dean wonders if he’s just amused  by the makeup.

“You were always there for me, Dean.”

Since Dean can’t take a compliment to save his life, he shrugs it off. “I was just trying to be a good friend. You did the same for me when Lisa and I broke up.”

They go quiet for a moment. Dean reflects back on the two weeks after their break up. Dean was drinking daily, taking whiskey in a travel mug to his classes, going to bars at night, falling asleep on the couch with a bottle in his hands. It took Cas several tries to get him out of his rut, first by asking Dean what was wrong, then by requesting that he eat something solid, and finally by whacking him with his rolled up yoga mat until Dean cleaned himself up and changed into some fresh clothes.

Dean had grumbled about it for a few days, but it was just what he needed. He couldn’t mope around forever and fall into a pit of alcoholism just because his year-long girlfriend finally got fed up with his shit. Cas spent extra time with him that month, changing his schedule and cancelling plans to hang out or do homework in the same room as him, occasionally reaching out to lay a hand on Dean’s shoulder or knocking their feet together to remind him that he wasn’t alone. It helped tremendously.

The worst part wasn’t losing Lisa, it was coming to terms with everything he had been trying to deny since he was seventeen. His attraction to men was something he first noticed when a new kid came to his high school and he fell for the linebacker build and honey-sweet Cajun accent. But after dating women exclusively his whole life, the last thing he wanted was for Cas to feel like some sort of experiment.

“What happened? With Lisa. You never told me.”

Cas catches his eye, but Dean directs his gaze away quickly, suddenly finding the curves of the camera very interesting.

“I, um… I wasn’t very good to her. I was kind of using her to get past a crush I had on someone, but it didn’t go away and she said she couldn’t keep living like that. Like she was competing to be my girlfriend. I don’t blame her one bit, she was right to leave me. I just thought, if it was just a crush, it wouldn’t be a problem once I was with someone else, but when I couldn’t stop liking them…”

Dean chances a look at Cas, who looks just as sad as he had in those pictures. His eyes are wide and it almost looks comical with all the lipstick kisses on his face.

“I realized it was more than just some crush,” Dean finishes lamely.

Every part of him wants to tell Cas. But what would be the point? The two of them will graduate and Cas will become the next most famous National Geographic photographer and Dean will be looking for work as a camera holder on low budget movies and shows that may or may not be cancelled halfway through filming. He could always turn to porn as a last resort, but he'll never make it as far as Cas and he’ll never make it with Cas.

In the beginning, he didn’t want to ruin their relationship. They worked well together, whether it was study sessions or getting back at exes or picking out mismatching furniture at second-hand stores. He worried about losing his friend. Now he doesn’t want to say anything because he knows he’s going to lose Cas one way or another, and it will hurt less if they don’t get involved with each other any more than they already are.

Cas takes a deep breath, processing the information. He searches the room. His eyes land back on the camera.

“I have one more shot to get.”

Dean blinks. It’s what he expected. It wouldn’t matter if Dean subtly tried to imply how in love he is with Cas or if he bluntly told him, he would always get the cold shoulder. It’s for the best, he tries to convince himself. Any other way would just end in a bigger heartbreak than necessary.

He turns back to the mirror. He finds the photo of him and Cas in the movie theater again. He can’t remember what movie they saw, but their faces are nearly touching and Dean’s arm is around Cas and he wishes more than anything that he’d taken the chance to kiss him back then. Because, what’s the quote? ‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Does it count when Dean is, technically, in love, but just hasn’t voiced it yet?

With a new coat of lipstick, he faces Cas again. He’s standing in the middle of the room, right next to the camera, ready for his last kiss. Dean musters up all his fake confidence and closes the distance between them, standing just a little closer than he had before.

“And this time?” Dean asks.

Cas looks hesitant. Maybe he’s finally realizing that he should have chosen someone else to kiss him over and over again. Someone who he wouldn’t have to awkwardly live with afterwards. Someone who wouldn’t have made a straightforward project into something uncomfortable.

His hand comes up to his face. He points a single finger to his bottom lip.

“Here.”

Dean’s breath catches in his throat. He hunts for any sort of lie in Cas’s eyes, any indication that he didn’t want it, that he wanted to take it back. But Cas just looks right back at him, waiting, patient.

Dean fits the corner of Cas’s jaw into the center of his palm, runs his thumb across Cas’s cheek. A lipstick kiss smears under the pad of his finger, wiping into nothing but a blur, just like the memory of whichever lover that one was meant to be.

When their lips meet, Dean forgets about every single reason he didn’t let himself have this before. Everything in his head melts away until there’s just Cas and mouth and hands and Cas and Cas and Cas.

Cas doesn’t hold back. He grips Dean’s waist like a life raft in the middle of the ocean, opens his mouth and moans when Dean slips his tongue in. He takes everything Dean gives him. He moves his head aside when Dean trails his mouth along his jaw and down his neck, kissing and sucking and nipping at the skin. Dean pulls him closer, desperate to feel as much of Cas as he possibly can.

Dean feels like he’s shaking, or maybe vibrating, with need. Everything is tilting, moving, wavering around him. The lights could blow and he wouldn't even notice, he’s too wrapped up, too confused about which way is left or right.

Their mouths come together again and the world straightens out on its axis. They slow down, brushing their lips together the way pages of a book slide against one another. They take their time. They learn the way they move with each other.

Eventually, they part. Not to gasp for breath, but to rest their foreheads together; to align their hearts. Between them, Dean can smell Cas’s toothpaste and taste the lipstick.

“We should do projects together more often,” Dean concludes humorlessly.

“I think we should skip the projects and just make out,” Cas counters.

Dean pulls back to laugh quietly at Cas, but then sees his face. Cas is covered in lipstick, all around his mouth, his chin, across his jaw, down his neck. The makeup follows the patterns of Dean’s kisses, right down to where he had sucked Cas’s earlobe into his mouth.

He lets loose, practically wheezing at the state of Cas’s face. Dean’s must look similar, because Cas erupts into laughter too and they both sink into each other, bodies convulsing in their arms.

“Come on, come on. One more picture,” Cas begs, pulling out of Dean’s grasp and positioning himself on the chair. He couldn't wipe that smile off his face if he tried, and it looks like he isn’t putting in any effort at all to push it away.

Dean presses the shutter button three times, hoping at least one of them is a good shot, before diving around the camera to pull Cas into his embrace again.

The lipstick ends up on chests, wrist, bed sheets, and hips, but they don’t mind. They might even keep the tube for another time.

tags below the cut!

@sweatercas | @queenvee08 | @fierydeans | | @scamp-00 | @cottondean | @hallowedbecastiel | @wanderingcas | Please let me know if you’d like to be added to/taken off the list!

[soranihimawari]

West Coast kind of Love

 Summary: There were certain things you know off the top of your head. One, the fact that popcorn and M&Ms should not be sold separately at the local movies is a crime; two, every other Monday of the month, the neighborhood film club would host dollar monster movies (where one of your neighbors in your apartment complex would frequently attend); and three, you might have to pinch yourself when he asks you to take a photo with you as a proof of “how things are going abroad” to his friend in Argentina...

Word count: 4.685K

Taglist: @m0nstergeneration20xx 📷 (google docs proof reader), @oitoorus​, @tkags & her ⛅ (anon fam) , @oikawalovely [open still]

“Do what you love and the rest will follow”-proverb

--September XX--Thursday, 23:13 (11:23pm)

“Oh come on Yukihira,” you knocked on the closed bathroom door of your apartment.”You know I called dibs to the bathroom after we ditched those jerks at the dancehall.”

Every month you and your roommate took turns in choosing public places to go out for a night on the town. With midterms coming up for what would be the junior year of your undergrad studies, your roommate decided giving a double date a try. Unfortunately for her, those jerks were thinking of doing the deed way too early for either of your liking. You decide that spilling your peach Bellini on your friend’s outfit during the middle of the date was the perfect excuse to end the night early. More often than not, you mostly came along these dates with her as an enforcer. You two might be as different as night and day (yukihira studies medicine all hours of the day whereas your focus was the visual arts). Tonight was just one of those nights where you being there was beneficial.

“Ugh, fine,” she said opening the door revealing her freshly brushed grin. “I can’t believe you had the gall to ruin that outfit y/n.”

“Hey, whatever helps you throw it out like you did your ex then I was doing the Lord’s work for you, Yuks.” You rolled your eyes at her when she stuck out her tongue when you slithered into the ivory tiled washroom. This earned a laugh from the other member of your household.

“But because this was a bad date and I didn’t think things through this time again, that means I get to set you up on a blind date.” Her singsong voice reached your ears as you turned on the faucet to drown out her mocking tone. You paused for a brief moment while waiting for the make up remover serium to bubble up on your face before wiping it off effectively.

“With who?” you asked after you patted your skin dry post-makeup removal ritual complete. Your hair was undone from the hair elastic you pulled out of your inherited islander curls.

“I don’t know. Hmm...Maybe the guy in unit 23C? He’s awfully cute,” Yukihira mused as you leaned in her doorway. Her brows wiggled in delight when she noticed how you stared at your neighbor on move in day during your freshman move in day three years prior.

“Iwazumi? You can’t be serious,” you said. Your voice betrayed you because your eyes shined like the gods of furtune finally found their way to you.

“Do you want to or not? He’s focused, witty, determined; I have my physiology study group with him tomorrow. Why don’t you come with, best friend of mine?”

You really hated when she pulled the puppy eyes on you, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to refuse (not by a long shot).

“Ask him if he prefers coffee or tea.”

A few days later, you came home from your department’s masters class with your portfolio sling over your shoulder. Your hands were covered in literal ink stains from your latest mural macro-micro project.

“Hey, Yukihira! Have you seen where I kept my lacquer thinner?” You raise your voice slightly as you kick off your shoes by the entrance hallway. It was only then you realize there were a couple of other pairs of shoes that did not belong to either of you. That’s when you remembered your friend’s warning about her study group coming over. All color drained from your face when you rounded the corner to your living room area converted into a mini lecture hall. You clear your throat to announce your presence which went unnoticed (with the exception of your roommate). Without even looking at the board, you chose to mess with the med students’ practice case.

“And I’m telling you this is a bilateral cut to the optic nerve, Josefina.”

“The microabraisons on the left thoracic cavity allowed the victim to bleed out on the table due to the elevated use of blood thinners, ” your voice quiets the pre-med students and you smile in a nonchalant manner. You have read this problem with Yukihira so many times prior at the start of the semester that you were able to recall the prognosis off the top of you head. Being friends with a pre-med major does have its redeeming qualities although you were seen mostly honing your crafts in the art department and this was just the prime time of their study week. 

“Oh! You’re back early,” Yukihira says in a warm tone. She stands at the end of the table in between you Her eyes glazed over as if to communicate that you were about to be formally introduced. You bite your tongue prior to allowing your roommate to clap her hands together as she went naming every member starting with the person on her left who was the aforementioned Josefina. When she had come full circle, her voice trailed off with a small apologetic smile.

“Aaaand this here is my roommate, y/n. To answer your question about the lacquer thinner, I put the bottle on your desk when it arrived last time,” Yukihira made sure to watch everyone’s response. She was more interested in seeing how the third member of her study group (the aforementioned neighbor in 23C) would react. His minuscule smirk was doubly noted, prompting you to fill the few seconds of silence with your own voice. After a brief trip down memory lane, spear headed by your best friend as they took a break from studying for a moment, Yukihira explained after years of being friends you learned about the medical cases for exams via osmosis. You were an unofficial member of the study group since the medical arts building was located near the visual arts department offices on campus. You chose to not let them be pushed back any further especially since their content exam was coming up later that month, so you bid them good luck.

“Don’t mind me,” your brass tone conveyed an even temper at the time. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to head to my room. You guys aren’t the only ones with an exam this week.” You raised your portfolio canister so they could see the poster sized dyed cylinder. Reams of paper filled with sketches made from ink and graphite poked through under the flourescent lights of the kitchen dining room table. The med students along with Yukihira waved and said it was lovely to meet your acquaintance.

With that you made a beeline route to your room, opened the door, and promptly shut the door. You dropped your portfolio canister next to your desk, turned up the volume of the lo-fi radio station playlist on your sound system, grabbed the nearest pillow and let out a muffled shriek to expel the remaining bits of embarrassment your friend threw you in. You were good at smaller group studies, but to be fair, given the fact that your friend was a social butterfly, you mostly seemed to rub off the “talented-artsy, yet focused,” type of woman. That night you cleaned up your outline for your stencil art piece of a fox and a hound for your take on minimalism class which had its peer critique at the end of the week.

You didn’t physically speak to Yukihira for the rest of the week. With both of you burning the midnight oil within the last few days before the exam, you noticed that the number of study group being held in your apartment had become the norm every other day (causing you focus more on a certain individual). Funny thing was he was also doing the same thing...

『from Yukihira: how many times do i have to apologize? You know I didn’t plan on having an emergency study session with iwazumi. He just showed up & wanted to chat. Besides the TA & professor chose to move up the exam date...』

『from y/n: you should of told me earlier before I came home. You know I forgive you... only if you buy me the latest ice cream along with the new Jun Ito novel. I’ll be out there in a minute till make some coffee for us.』

『from Yukihira: Mmkay & thanks. Coffee sounds good right about now anyways.』

--October XX-- Friday, 15:55 (3:55p.m.)

The weekend came through soon enough and on a Friday afternoon with no where to go, you were chilling at the comfort of your own living room. You were quick to thank the test gods for the exam being moved up once you had a proper conversation with Yukihira that morning. She mentioned she was going be out all day making sure she was able to finesse her study guide with her fellow medical study group. Since it was the end of the week, Josefina opted to have a free for all study day at the book store for those who wanted to go over last minute things according to the note yukihira left on your door that morning.

At the time of the day, you were expecting to be alone, curled up with your favorite cup of English Earl Grey Tea and a Lovecraft radio program you downloaded via the student Spotify network. Your phone vibrated and pinged with a notification from the bookstore where Yukihira placed the order for your horror novel to arrive sooner than the estimated timeframe. Because life finds it funny to pull another prank on your clown assery with your little cynical attitude, you were startled when the formal knocker was used.

“Shit!” you said when you clutched your heart as you placed your cup of tea down on the coffee table. As your put two fingers on your neck’s pulse point, you waited a few minutes for your heart rate to calm back down; you stood up and began to make your way down the hallway. Lo and behold, you were greeted by a casually dressed man who was clutching your new novel in his sunkissed hands. 

It takes your brain a few synapses to register that it was Iwazumi who has been taking a liking to coming over for extra study hours with your roommate, but if anyone asked him to reply honestly, he wanted to know more about you. The human body has more than 240 bones, yet the more frequent his visits become, the more he felt himself become accustomed to befriending you both. There were instances where you joined them at the kitchen table glancing at their open notebooks and case studies; you often made tea or coffee depending on the hour of the day. On the days you had come home from the art department, Yukihira was quick to notice how Iwazumi’s usually tense face seemed to visibly relax when you came to prepare your favorite snack (m&ms and buttered popcorn). Your friend was quick to relay a text to his phone, which caused her study partner at the table to become more flustered than he already was. 

Regardless of the various near misses over the next couple of weeks between you and Iwazumi (sometimes it was Yukihira’s fault other times, it was coincidental juxtopostional humour: it has happened twice on Iwazumi’s side when his friends back home noticed he was not at his usual place. [Yukihira called for a mini-study break] However, that didn’t stop you from asking him if he preferred sugar or honey for his tea & all hell broke loose (Hanamaki & Mattsun were cheering him on while Oikawa.exe has dropped the call).

All this back and forth for the past five weeks caused this moment to occur:

“I-Iwa-chan?” your voice went up several octaves before clearing your throat with a cough. “If you’re looking for Yukihira, she’s actually not here at the moment...” 

“To the scientist there is the joy in pursuing truth which nearly counteracts the depressing revelations of truth.”

The audio from your radio program was keeping you company. The disembodied voice coming from the main sound system you helped set up when you first moved into the building with Yukihira quoted Lovecraft as the program continued to serve in the role of filling the silence between you and Iwazumi. The gods really did that, didn’t they? your thoughts were running away with you again, chasing a reality that would be yours--or so you think. 

During that thought hurricane you conjured up, you decided to pause the train of thought for a few minutes. You released your hold on your front door knob as you pulled the door a little wider in order for you to lean against the frame of the front door. Your hair was pulled up in a messy bun (on your days off, you were typically clad in tapered mint green pants and a spare white button down blouse due to laundry day), but it was enough to see the usual semi-talkative and stoic demi-god of a neighbor wear such an embarrassed expression. You pretended to not hear the barely audible, “woah,” that escaped his mouth prior to him holding up the book to you. 

“Did the mail carrier drop it off to your box again?” you ask taking the book in your hands. “Sorry about that. You can come in if you want.” 

You were quick to notice that something caught your arm in an attempt to stop you from walking. When you chose to not try to pry yourself away from Iwazumi’s hold, he took it as a sign to bend himself to your ear and say the following in a powerfully low tone: “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t looking for her?” 

“Yes,” you say in a timid manner, yet it was paired with a curt nod. You both had the tenacity to swat away any lingering negative thoughts.

Iwazumi took this moment to turn you around to face him by the arm he held you with. His smile disappeared when he let your arm go and instead moved his hand to hold yours with his opposite hand, he pulled the door shut behind him. You were probably too proud to admit this aloud, nonetheless, you liked the way Iwazumi’s firm grip felt in your hand; his were rough and calloused as much as yours were from years of honing your independent crafts. You gave him a kind smile before your neighbor decided to take advantage of the fact that the other person in your apartment wasn’t home; you squeezed his hand slightly and he let your hand go. 

You placed the Jun Ito novel on the kitchen counter motioning for Iwazumi to meet you there. Your kettle was still warm, however you made a cheeky joke to your newly acquired friend. (Perhaps this was Yukihira’s plan, you think). You reached into the dishwasher and was about to pour him a cup of tea, yet you couldn’t help but make a small joke at his expense for holding your hand so intently. 

“For the record, if you wanted to hold my hand, you could have done so earlier,” you mention stifling a laugh, pouring the steaming water into the mug. Iwazumi mumbled something about how he liked the way your hand fit, yet you chose to throw caution to the wind and quickly planted short kiss on his cheek when you extended the cup toward him after placing the tea strainer in it. 

With one hand on yours and the other was wrapped around the ceramic mug,. Your kindness was always something Iwazumi found alluring. You might not have been in the same course of study as him or Yukinira, yet you were good finding the beauty in the mundane. A few of your pieces of work were hung around the apartment and from his line of sight, your dedication to your craft was something to be admired.With every sip he took a sip to deflect from the way his thoughts were heading into uncharted territories; OIkawa, Mattsun, and even Makki were the ones more verbose on love & conquest during the days of their you:

“You’re always over at your neighbors’ place, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa teased. 

“I wonder what his reason is,” Makki muses. “Mattsun thinks it’s a girl. Typical.”

Makki also noticed one of your sophomore symposium art pieces hanging behind the place where Iwazumi was sitting at the time of their weekly video call. Your avant-garde view of  viewing the world was enough to set the sky amethyst hues. California does have it’s moments of striking beauty and somehow Iwazumi found it hard to keep to a straight face around his friends. His expression was usually hardened or bold, but today you sat across from him at the beginning of the call, reading up on the use of gold leaf detail work for your art restoration classes. Across the myriad of scattered medical books and various notes that were pertaining to another medical case were a tell that their friend was clearly not alone. You glance up at him quietly, a minute smile formed between you two; you write on a spare piece of paper the word, “friends” to which he nodded. 

“Aww, is our little ace growing soft on us?” Oikawa’s whining was something you often heard Yukihira describe after nights like these.(She usually hung out in your room as you were placing the final touches of your latest art assignment. This month was dedicated to historic downtown with a twist of horror: modern mania & the ruiner of man. Right now, you didn’t mind the shared space of the dining room while Yukihira was out on a grocery run at the time the call was initiated.)

“Shut your mouth Shittykawa,” Iwazumi barks. His dark eyes hardened like stone and that was when Makki let out a wicked grin. 

“I owe Mattsun 500 yen,” Makki chuckled. 

“Holy shit,” Oikawa’s eyes bounced between his best friends and let out a low whistle. “if this woman is capable of such an amazing feat, ask her if she has a friend [for me].”

Iwazumi ended the call right then and there. He didn’t expect his heart to be beating so irratically when you walked room in your house attire for a moment to make yourself a cup of the same Earl Grey Tea. The hazy lights emitting from your room blended effortlessly with the flourescent ones in the kitchen; each beam clung to your body in such away Iwazumi was glad neither of his friends witnessed the moment he fell in love with California and all that came with it. 

This afternoon was a different story as you liked the way Iwazumi allowed his natural blush to bubble to the surface of his cheeks and you could swear you saw a fraction of the high school volleyball ace shine through. The sunlight danced around the stainless steel details of the kitchen where you shared secrets, recipes, and drinks with your best friend. His free hand chose to move away from the counter finding its resting place under your chin. The cup of tea Iwazumi held earlier was placed next to the stove on the coaster by the sink. 

You steady your breathing right before you felt Iwazumi’s breath on your cupid’s bow; his lips pressed against yours gingerly as though he felt his brain light up and catch a fire he needed to not run away from; everything he wanted to know about you was answered as soon as your hands cup his face. I think I like this, your conscience is egging you on to pursue his touch for a while longer. It was a silent acknowledgement of the other’s presence in the present moment. 

“Hm,” you hear him hum in mutual amusement when you return his kiss. The pads of his fingers trace the highest points of your face teasingly. He wanted answers to the questions your lips asked. When you two separate for a moment, you realize you might have been too forward, but when you move your hands away from his face only to hug him in a loose embrace, you couldn’t help the next words from posing a question.

“Do you want to kiss me again?” your coquettish tone made Iwazumi’s answer very apparent as you suddenly took into account the last couple of weeks and the way both of you came to enjoy each other’s company during study group hours at either your place as the primary location or the cafe down the road from the apartment complex. (Iwazumi’s frequent visits weren’t for tutoring necessarily, about a majority of the time it was to see you as an added bonus). 

Iwazumi did not have to be told twice; he enveloped you in his strong arms, he hoisted you up from under your knees and placed you a top the counter with gentle assertive force. Your legs wrapped around his fit waist as you gripped his biceps for leverage prior to letting the old ace prove his strength by placing you on top of the graphite counter like a doll. 

“Comfortable?” Iwazumi’s expression was more seductive than profound.

“Very,” you reply as you unwind your legs from his body. “Where were we?”

Your hands wrapped around his neck before pulling him close to you again. A smug smile cut across both of your faces for a brief moment until your lips hovered over his for the second time. This time, you let him kiss you the way you knew he had been meaning to since he showed up at your door less than fifteen minutes prior book in hand. When Iwazumi kissed you at the current moment, the world crumbled and fell away; it was somehow comforting in a way that words would not compare to. His actions listened to the way you were setting the pace with the same tenacity as he showed you. The scent of his sandalwood conditioner mixed well with your ocean scented dry shampoo. 

Your eyes were still closed when you felt your hands card through his ever-present spiky hair. His right hand rested below your ear, using the pad of his thumb and forefinger to caress your cheek and jawline again. You feel him smile against your own lips when you nipped the corner of his mouth playfully. You break apart long enough for your partner in the kitchen to began to sneakily undoing your top two buttons of your blouse to press his lips against your exposed skin. You let out a whimper in the heat of the moment the second his lips began to leave a trail of reverberating echoes in the simplest of ways securing his hold on your soul that very day.

“Beautiful girl,” Iwazumi murmurs as his eyes met yours when he was done having his fun. His voice was cautious, but when his arms began to hover over your own, you felt your heart rate speed up right as he told you this: “Tell me, what other sounds can you make for me?” 

“Is that a challenge?” you retort, your hands disappearing under his hoodie to feel the fabric of his undershirt. Your hand stopped roaming atop of his chest; he was liking this. You could tell by the way he was taunting you with his smirk. “Because I was wondering the same thing. Do you want me to remove my hand?”

“No.”

Your hands could have been made of branding tools and Iwazumi wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. He chuckled at your question before you brought him down to your level and your lips met again. The sound he made upon impact was as though you broke him yet healed him at the same time; time was on your side for this one and you proved he wasn’t the only monster in the kitchen. There was a hunger there behind every kiss you let him have; you were smiling in the between long enough to feel his heart beat faster through the fabric of his undershirt.

Your hands automatically removed themselves from his shirt and were found holding on to the aglet of the drawstrings from the hoodie he was wearing. Iwazumi kissed your fingers before proceeding with posing a question to you.

“Just so we’re clear,” your voice was bold and daring. It was one of the many things he liked about you both in and out of campus grounds. The small details was what Iwazumi liked the most and the subtle tells of how you, Yukihira, and even the other members of the study group didn’t make him feel so alone like when he first arrived to California to study.

“Whatever this is between you and I, does it mean we’re...together?” 

You make a sign in the air with your palms up and point between you and him. Iwazumi clears his throat as he taps his lips to tease you and that was when he saw it: a younger version of you covered in sidewalk chalk in your neighborhood (much the same as you saw reflections of the former ace/vice captain).

“If you’ll let me take you to the Monster Movie marathon on Monday,” he answered when he linked his right hand digits with your left and you capture his lips again on your own volition. Your ears perked up at this, you drop the string you played with and patted his chest with a light rapt. 

“Eager to make me your girlfriend aren’t you?” You laugh and Iwazumi furrowed his brows, but you silence his worries in one swift and simple move: you kiss him with the intent of either being his salvation or his torment, either way Iwazumi was not complaining. The girl who loves to read about Lovecraftian monsters and the boy who was a monster chaser shared a love as unique as themselves: like a secret they each wanted to keep  behind closed doors.

His only vice was the fact that his social call was coming to an end and every ounce of his well being was fighting to stay here with you. You back down for a moment only to showcase your best attempt at a flattering smile to match his own. Iwazumi would never let you know this at the time, but seeing that smile on your face made his list of top three things he found most precious in the world. This wasn’t a crush anymore was the proper conclusion you both concluded. 

“Meet at your place at 7:30,” you suggest. Iwazumi released your hand from his to step back as you hopped down from the kitchen counter you made a seat of. 

“I’ll see you then ‘Ms. Lovecraft’.” The nickname he bestowed upon you was one that made the butterflies come back in a flurry; this was the start of something special, but you didn’t know it at this point in time that the name will be used to describe your affinity for Iwazumi’s unyielding devotion to you (the seeds were planted in both of your hearts and the two of you waited for them to bloom).

Iwazumi made his way back toward the hallway and faced your apartment’s front door again. You refastened both buttons he undid prior to reaching for the door knob. 

“For what it’s worth,” your not-so-innocent tone in your voice begins to come through. His darkened eyes observe you undo your top knot and shook your shoulder-length hair to reveal the fullness of your wavy locks. You place your hand on his wrist and the other was on the door knob. He stopped you from opening the door with a softened glance; pressing his lips lightly on your brow bone. 

“I really like it when you come over Iwazumi. Thank you for dropping off the book.” You tap your fingers thoughtfully on your lips as a silent form of thanking him for the other part outside of the tangible order.

“Hajime, y/n,” he whispers his given name in your ear in order to get one last rile out of you before kissing your temple, and you could swear you could hear your heart beat in your ears. “Call me that from now on, ok?”

“Ok,” you swiftly reply. “Only if you continue to call me Lovecraft, haha.”

Iwazumi takes his leave when he thinksof how the next time he sees you, it’ll be filled with magic, mayhem, and the movie playing in his heart was one he would like to share with you for as long as it takes.

You rush to your room to retrieve your cell phone and immediately text Yukihira who was in the middle of her break between classes:

『from y/n: i have a date on monday night. the book came btw. thanks yukihira』

『from Yukihira: iwazumi asked you to go out with him, didn’t he? have fun and remember to not do anything i wouldn’t do. ;) 』

『from y/n: of course. and even if we did, i wouldn’t even hear the end of it from you. you’d might have an easier time talking to iwazumi than me, let’s be honest.』

『from Yukihira: (n˘v˘•)¬ oh you know me so well. see you later tonight.』

—November XX, 14:43 (2:43pm): 

First dates & a glimpse into their social medias (ft. Iwazumi, Babs (y/n), & Yukihira)

Iwazumi credit

Suffice to say that Mondays became your favorite day after this kiss...😌

Bonus:

Instagram posts from our UCIrvine trio ft. Iwazumi, Yukihira, & Y/N-san

[do-ya-hear-that-sound]

Request for Christmas with the deetz & maitlands & bj. Like what they got each other, decorating, all that good stuff because tis the season !

Aye, it’s Christmas Eve so better now than never to answer this, amiright?

(don’t answer that)

Charles is THE ABSOLUTE WORST at shopping. Thank god for Delia, she’s a shopping demon. Black Friday is her JAM, and she did all of the holiday shopping after Thanksgiving. 

(Emily was the one who always did the shopping in the family, not because he didn’t have any idea what to get them, he loves his family dearly but... Charles isn’t the most emotionally intelligent, and it really shows around this time of year. Charles said he married Delia because Lydia needed a mom, but honestly, Charles really needed a partner again.)

And speaking of demons...

Beej is absolutely confused as to what is happening around him

“Why the fuck is there a tree inside the house now???”

“Why are there fucking socks hanging over the fireplace??? Isn’t that a fire hazard?? Are you breathers T R Y I N G to go to the Netherworld again???” “Beej, we don’t have fires during the nig-” “IT’S DANGEROUS LYDIA”

“Okay, wait. I’m totally down for the fungus hanging over the doorframe... Can I eat it?”

Everyone thinks he’s just messing around until Barabra straight-up asks him if he knows it’s Christmas time. The Ghost just blinks, looks around, and you can see the dots connecting in his head. 

“Ohhhhh, that’s what this is. Huh. And here I thought you guys were starting a cult without me.”

Everyone is pretty shook over that Beej doesn’t know what Christmas is. They still think he’s messing with them. 

“Guys. I died over a millennia ago. I've been bouncing around between the living world and the Netherworld since then. Last time I was topside during this time of year, people were calling this Yule. ’Sides, I’m Jewish. This pagan shit is cool to get fucked up with, but I don’t keep tabs on it.”

Delia goes out and buys as many Hanukkah themed sweaters and decorations as her credit card will allow her that very same day. Barbara helps Lydia research traditional foods. Charles and Adam research how to celebrate each day. 

They all surprise at sundown, when the first candle is to be lit on the Menorah. Beej is touched at the effort. He recites the prayer and lights the candle. (And if anyone sees his eyes glistening, they know better than to point it out to him.)

He hovers over the kitchen along with Barabra to help the Deetz’s with preparing meals for the rest of the holiday. He’s not exactly calm now, but he’s significantly less chaotic after the first night. (Which Charles is more than grateful for)

Barabra and Adam can’t really go out to shop, so they get Lydia and Delia to help them out! 

Barbara gets Adam some new paints for his town model. Adam gets her some new vinyls she had her eyes on before she died.

Delia gets Lydia a new camera lens, as well as a travel bag to hold Lydia's camera. Lydia gets Delia some crystals (duh) and a horoscope book for the upcoming year. 

Charles, after much internal debate (and some encouragement from Delia), gives Lydia a scrapbook of Emily’s writings and various works she created from when she was around her age. The book was originally a gift from Emily’s father. He gave it to Emily as a birthday gift after Lydia was born.

"I think they both knew it would find its way to you, eventually. " Charles smiles softly, eyes glistening. "Your mother would be so proud of you, Lydia. She would have want you to have this. She loved you. So much."

Lydia hugs her dad so tight, and if there are tears in both of their eyes, well, neither of them says anything about it.

They stay like that for a while. For once, nothing needs to be said between them at all.

The whole group pitches in and gets a leatherbound portfolio folder for Lydia, with her name etched onto the cover.

Beej gets Lydia some film for his camera. He gives the Maitlands some wool gloves (death is pretty chilly, after all). For the Deetz’s, he gets Delia some incense and Charles a coupon book full of favors that he can cash in for The Ghost with the Most to do at any time.

("One Mind-Blowing Threesome" is Beej's personal favorite. "One Entire Day of Peace and Quiet" and "Get Rid of Annoying House Guest" are the ones that Charles is most likely to use, tbh)

For Lydia, he gets her a locket with a rather large mirror in it.

“It’s two way, Lyds. You can summon me at any time just by saying my name, but if, for whatever reason, you can’t, just open the locket, and I’ll go completely ape shit on whatever you got yourself into this time.”

Lydia gives Beej an old phone: “It’s so we can send each other memes and tik toks. It won’t work without WiFi, but that shouldn’t be much of an issue. We can even facetime while I’m not at the house, too.”

Lydia fucking KOed him. He’s straight-up crying. Lydia has to pat his back awkwardly while Beej clutches his phone and sobs. 

The Maitlands get Beej under the mistletoe and kiss him on the cheek at the same time as their Christmas present to him. Beej short-circuits and has a dopey smile on his face while it's happening. It’s a sweet moment... until he snaps out of it and tries to make out with one of them.  

Charles and Delia get Beej his own space in the house. The Maitlands have the attic, and the basement is Lydia’s darkroom, but another room in the house’s only used as storage. Delia and Charles have cleared it out and have been ordering stuff off Amazon to make it a home for him. It’s mostly black and white stuff, but there are a few green and purple pieces there as well. 

Aaaaaaaaand he’s crying again

It’s a good Christmas all around, my dudes 🎄🎄🎄

[kenzieam]

Linked - Chapter Two

Rating: M (smut, language, mature themes, potential major character death)

Genre: Drama/Angst

@captstefanbrandt @iammarylastar @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @notimetoblog @captain-ariel-barnes  @lancefvckertvcker-blog @bitsandbobsandstuff @softlybarnes @lovelybbarnes @buckitybarnes @bucky-plums-barnes  @moonbeambucky @badassbaker @citylights221  @shynara51 @diinofayce @casestudy-mw  @jewels2876 @damnaged-princess @everythingisoverrated @allmyfanficfaves     @wowspideyholland  @smilexcaptainx@shirukitsune @chook007​ @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​

If you want to be removed or I’ve missed tagging you, let me know!

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Bucky and Levi find themselves connected through tragedy, can they let go of the past to find their future????

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I have not added to this since last September, shame on me!! Reread Chapter One here and let me know if I should continue with the story.

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WHAT ARE YOU DOING? The voice in Bucky’s head screamed. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO SAY NO! DANGER, DANGER! You don’t want to get involved with this! She doesn’t want you; YOUR WIFE KILLED HER HUSBAND... HER HUSBAND KILLED YOUR WIFE. WALK AWAY!

His mind was screaming loud enough that it wouldn’t surprise Bucky if Levi could actually hear his thoughts and he winced internally as he caught sight of her hand, clutching white-knuckle tight to her messenger bag.

Shit.

Despite his misgivings, Bucky nevertheless sat at the table the hostess indicated, pausing awkwardly as he debated holding out Levi’s chair for her. She sat quickly, however, as if expecting him to offer and not wanting it. King clamored into his own chair; reaching for a menu, asking for a chocolate milk and maintaining a rundown of the best parts of their game all at the same time and Bucky couldn’t hide a smile. He would rather rip his tongue out by the roots than admit it, especially in his present company, but King had become very precious to him in a short amount of time and he very much looked forwards to seeing the little guy. Maria had been totally against the subject of children, but Bucky had always wanted to be a dad. He needed to be careful though, he knew, for this was a minefield he wasn’t sure he would ever be either ready or able to walk through.

“What do you want, Coach? I want pizza!”

“King, keep it down.” Levi chastised gently.

“Sorry, mom.”

“It’s alright, just use your inside voice, okay?”

“Okay.”

Levi’s eyes flicked unwillingly towards him. “What do you want, Mr. Barnes?” She asked softly, sounding nervous.

Jesus, doll. You. “Call me Bucky, please. Pizza sounds good...?” Bucky offered shyly.

Pizza safely ordered (half-pepperoni, half-Hawaiian – gross, mom!), Bucky cleared his throat and asked tentatively, his heart hammering in fear. “How are you liking it here so far?”

Levi looked startled for a micro-second before answering. “It’s nice. I met Nat and Steve right away, so that made everything so much easier, I-” a loud chime interrupted her, and she flushed. “Sorry.”

Bucky watched as Levi reached down and rustled in her messenger bag, pulling out a tablet and tapping quickly at it before tucking it back inside.

“Sorry about that,” she repeated. “That was a client.”

“What do you do?” Bucky blurted, his nerves loosening his tongue. “Sorry, I-”

“No, it’s alright. I’m a graphic designer; but lately I’ve been designing a lot of book covers.”

“Like novels?”

“Yeah, just small time. First-time authors, independents, people that haven’t really made it big yet.”

“How does that work?”

Levi flushed, glancing down at her glass before answering, her fingers toyed with the condensation forming at the base, drawing small but enchanting patterns. “I’m compiling a catalogue of images and pictures of subjects; I snagged some professional editing software a while ago and can manipulate a stock image fairly realistically. Some are live models, others are no-license. The client emails me what they’re looking for, I make something up and send them a few choices; it’s fairly straightforward really.”

“Live models... like pictures of real guys, like Fabio?”

Levi giggled, a sound that arrowed straight into Bucky’s heart. “Not that famous, but a few wannabe models have let me take their picture, usually in exchange for a series of headshots. They get their portfolio; I get a few brooding pics.”

“Shirtless?” Bucky wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but the idea intrigued him.

“Yes, mostly. Why, are you volunteering?” Levi snapped her mouth shut in shock. What the fuck is gotten into you?

Now Bucky flushed, eyes flicking to Levi’s for a heartbeat; a shy grin pulling at his mouth and the sight arrowed straight into Levi’s heart. “Think I’d make it?”

Fuck, yeah. But I don’t want to share. "I think you’d do. Romance readers love a dark and handsome mystery.”

“You think I’m handsome?” Bucky teased, loving the way Levi’s face went so adorably red, her amethyst eyes widening as she realized her slip.

Finally, the universe took pity; Levi was saved from answering by the arrival of their pizza and King’s triumphant shout.

The next few minutes were spent eating, King devouring his slice with typical 5-year-old gusto.

“How do you like coaching so far?” Levi asked, wiping tomato sauce from her bottom lip, something Bucky suddenly and desperately wanted to do with his tongue.

Bucky struggled to focus on her question and not her plump lips and what they would look like wrapped around his cock.

What the fuck, dude???

“A lot actually. I didn’t expect to, honestly; I was just going to help Steve out a bit. I played soccer in high school and a bit for my university team, so I guess he figured I knew what I was doing.”

“You played for your university? You must have been good.”

Bucky flushed. “Yeah,” he hedged, unsure whether he should mention that he had already been drafted in the pros. “But I busted up my knee pretty bad and decided to get out.”

“That must have sucked.” Lev offered quietly, looking surprisingly upset at the news.

Bucky nodded, clearing his throat. “I lucked out with a good surgeon. I signed up for the military and, after a couple of tours I got out and into security. Mostly I just consult now.”

“Is that how you met Steve?”

Bucky couldn’t stop a wide smile. “Yeah, he wanted me to review and streamline the security system for his business.” He hesitated before adding, “I was always pretty mobile with that anyways, consulting all over the country, sometimes the world. I didn’t need to stay in one place, so... it made it easier when I decided to move… after-”. He broke off, Levi would know exactly what he meant without him spelling it out.

“Yes.” Came her quiet reply. “I understand... About that, did you ever-”

“No.” Bucky kept his voice gentle even as his heart raced. “Not now, please.”

Levi nodded shyly, her cheeks going pink. King had fallen silent, looking between the two adults, puzzled.

“What’s going on?” He asked, a pizza slice forgotten in his hand.

Levi sent Bucky a beseeching look. She’d not told King who Bucky was. At most, he knew that his coach’s wife had died, but he didn’t know that she’d taken his father with her.

“Nothing, buddy.” Bucky grinned in King’s direction, but Levi could see the faint tightening at the corners of his eyes. Fortunately, King, who was uncannily observant, even for a child, took Bucky’s lie at face value and happily tucked back into his pizza.

‘Sorry,’ Levi mouthed, and Bucky shook his head gently, returning quietly to his pizza.

Lev refused to let Bucky pay for full bill, insisting on half and completely crushing any thoughts that this had been anything but an entirely platonic meal.

But, whether by luck or serendipity, they found themselves again at May’s after the next game, sharing a table due to King’s enthusiastic ‘Coach! Sit with us!’ that he’d bellowed across the room.

The third time was planned, and Levi felt herself almost ashamed at how much she began to look forward to aftergame pizza with Coach Barnes.

*****************************************************************

King ran ahead, hollering at the top of his lungs to his teammates, who shouted and yelled back. Levi followed behind, trudging really, she’d not gotten much sleep last night, and stumbled, biting back a surprised squawk, when a soccer ball connected suddenly with her temple. She staggered, clutching at her head but the ball hadn’t been flying with too much force and it had startled her more than anything else.

“Hey!” Bucky appeared like magic, the offending ball in his hands. He touched her shoulder, peering into her face with concern. “You okay?”

Lev nodded, not wanting to make a scene, she probably could have avoided being hit if she’d been more cognizant of the field, but Bucky wasn’t having it.

“Fucking Seymour. I’ll handle this.” He marched over to the nearby group of players and spoke in low, furious tones to them, starting in on their coach, obviously the maligned Seymour, when he bumbled over, trying to cover up the fact that he’d been too busy playing Candy Crush on his phone to monitor his players.

Lev continued walking, almost scurrying, picking up speed to avoid any other flying missiles and sat gratefully on her usual spot at the bleachers. Her eyes drifted to find Bucky,he was still speaking to the other coach and it was starting to look heated, but then Bucky took a visible deep breath and stepped back, obviously pulling himself away before things got out of hand. His eyes searched for her and he exhaled noticeably once he found her, moving unerringly to her side, concern evident on his handsome face.

“You okay?” He murmured, reaching up to brush where the ball had connected. His touch left goosebumps in its wake and Lev hissed at the contact, at the tingle of energy that frizzled between his fingertips and her skin. He seemed to feel it too, eyes widening slightly and pulled his hand away, not fully dropping it, gaze searching hers. “Lev?”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry, I should have been paying attention-” Levi ducked her head.

“Not your fault.” He retorted curtly. “Wayne Seymour needs to be watching his players better.” He visibly exhaled out his mounting irritation and leaned down to meet her eyes again. His brows drew together in question and he looked so startingly puppy-dog at that moment that Lev forgot how to breathe.

“James, I’m fine.”

His brows jumped slightly, nobody called him by his given name, he always corrected them and told them to call him Bucky, but hearing Lev say it made something inside him sit up and pay attention. Reluctantly, he drew away; he had to start coaching but right now he wanted nothing more than to stay beside her.

His hand, drifting without official orders, rested lightly on her knee for a beat before he pulled it away, startled by his actions. It wouldn’t do for the coach to be seen touching one of the player’s moms, but his hand suddenly ached as it was drawn away, tingling to touch her again.

“Pizza tonight?” He asked, stumbling over his words.

Lev studied him for a beat, her cheeks going adorably red. “We’ll see you there.” She replied softly.

***************************************************************

“Coach, can you come to my party?!” King asked excitedly, bouncing in his chair like it was a small trampoline.

Bucky took the empty chair at the table, mouthing a ‘Hey’ to Lev before focusing on King. “What’s that, Little Man?” He’d heard King babbling something about this during drills earlier, but he’d still been so caught up in Levi being hit that he hadn’t paid much attention.

“My birthday!”

Lev hushed King with a low shushing sound. “His sixth birthday, I’m planning a small get-together this weekend; King’s teammates, some school friends and their parents. You’re certainly invited, can you make it?”

“Of course.” He grinned down at King. “Thanks, buddy.”

“Yay!!”

“Kingston Sebastian Riel!” Levi hissed. “Tone it down.”

“Sebastian?”

“His father and I couldn’t agree. Brock wanted Kingston, I wanted Sebastian. We ‘compromised’.” She made air quotes with her fingers.

“I love that name.” Bucky smiled. That had been his name, whenever he’d indulged in picturing having children with Maria, naming his son ‘Sebastian Barnes’.

“I don’t need to use it very often; King usually knows how to behave in restaurants.” Lev replied, eyeing her son.

“Sorry, mom. Sorry, Coach.”

Lev’s serious demeanor broke and she ruffled his hair. “Inside voice, remember. I know you’re excited but we’re not the only people here, right?”

“Yes, mom.”

Bucky gazed at Lev while pretending to peruse the menu. She wasn’t like some of the other mothers out there, that let their kids get away with murder, ignored the little darlings as they ran around screaming and disturbing people, getting in screaming matches with bystanders that told her to rein in her offspring. She loved her son, that was obvious, and she loved him enough to actually parent him. That distinction mattered to Bucky, something that he probably would have argued with Maria about, had she ever agreed to having children. She had been raised to believe herself always correct, her parents always backing her, no matter if she was right or wrong in any situation, and it had chafed Bucky at times; something he found he could reflect back on now, with time, although with no less diminished guilt at remembering your dead spouse as anything but an absolute water-walking saint.

“Mom, I have to go to the bathroom.” King announced. When Lev moved to stand, he continued. “I can go myself.”

Lev looked torn, then nodded slowly. “Wash your hands.”

King nodded once then disappeared.

“What can I bring?” Bucky asked.

“Sorry, what?” Lev pulled her attention away from the direction King had gone, focusing back on Bucky.

“What can I bring to King’s party?”

“Oh,” Lev cleared her throat, thinking for a moment. “Beer? If you want to drink any, I don’t have a lot hanging around and… I’m not sure how many are coming, but maybe a chair too. The backyard is pretty big and there should be room, but you never know.”

“Any food?”

“No, thank you. I’ve got it.” Lev’s lips curled in a small smile and Bucky wasn’t surprised to feel his heart skip suddenly in his chest. This had been happening more and more around her and he was losing the strength to fight it.

“What does the Little Man want?”

“You don’t need-”

“I want to.”

Lev chewed her bottom lip before answering. “He talks a lot about some ‘Ronaldo’ guy?”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ve heard him during practices. Cristiano Ronaldo, he’s a famous Portuguese soccer player. Think he’d like a jersey?”

“He’d probably never take it off. But James, seriously-”

Bucky leaned forwards suddenly, resting his hand onto of Levi’s and startling her silent. “Please. I’d like to.” A little awkwardly, he pulled his hand back, straightening slowly in his chair, cheeks heating.

“Do you have any children, James?” She asked, abruptly but not unkindly.

“No.”

“Did you ever want any?”

Bucky traced the edge of his glass, staring hard at the liquid inside. This seemed both an insanely private question to ask, but also one he didn’t mind answering, at least for her. “Yes. Maria-”

“I’m back!” King announced, as if he’d trekked to Papua New Guinea and was just now arriving home, footsore and weary from outrunning cannibals.

“Did you wash your hands?”

“Yes, mom.”

A part of Bucky was insanely grateful when the pizza arrived moments later, and he was saved from further discussion of children he’d wanted but never had the chance to have.

*****************************************************************

Lev opened the door, a slight look of panic on her face and smiled widely when she saw who it was.

“Bucky, hey! I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

He’d thought about it; for some reason, after their last pizza ‘date’, he’d spiraled down into a dark shame, one he’d not felt since those early months immediately after Maria’s death. It must have been because of Lev’s question, harmless as it was for someone you could consider a friend, someone you shared dinner with on the semi-regular now, to ask; but it had triggered something inside him, a buried guilt, a hidden tangle of emotions he’d been too afraid to grab and study up close, but King meant too much to him to bail and, if he was being honest with himself, Levi did too.

“Sorry I’m late-”

“No, it’s fine! I’m just a little-… I haven’t had a get-together like this since before…” She broke off, cheeks going pink and Bucky knew immediately what she meant, how she felt.

“Here, let me take that-” Bucky reached for the bags of chips grasped tightly in her fingers but she pulled away.

“No, thank you, it’s fine. You’ve got your hands full too.” She said, jerking her chin at the six-pack of beer and folded lawn-chair taking up most of his hands. She paused for a moment and took a deep breath, gifting Bucky with a genuine smile. “Thank you for coming, I’m glad you’re here; and King’s going to go crazy.”

Their eyes met and held for a heartbeat and something warm flashed in Lev’s gaze, something that matched the tentative eagerness burning low in Bucky’s chest.

“C’mon in.” Levi shook herself slightly, as if breaking out of a trance and smiled a bit nervously. “I’ll be right out, just head on through the kitchen and out the back door. Everyone’s out there, you’ll see Steve and Nat right away.”

“Okay, thanks.” Bucky tried not to look as Levi sashayed in front of him, unaware of how the natural sway of her hips made adult thoughts flood his mind. Maria had not had curves like this, she’d been almost fanatical about calorie counting and restriction, resulting in a toned but unwelcomely bony body under Bucky’s caresses, but Lev was curvy, deliciously so, in all the right places. He didn’t mean to compare, but Maria had lamented to him many times about all the squats and lunges she did and how she still never achieved an ass even close to what Lev seemed to have naturally. His hands ached to touch her soft skin, trace her delicate lines and supple curves, lose himself in her feminine body.

A chorus of greetings hit him as he stepped outside and Steve launched himself at him, tearing Bucky from his musing as he prepared to collide against a brick wall, reaching Bucky in about two bounds; half-dragging him towards where he and Nat were seated, managing to yank the beer from his hands, open Bucky’s chair, push him to sit in it and slap him on the shoulder all at the same time.

A lot of the parents and kids Bucky realized he knew, mostly from soccer, and Nat and Steve introduced him to the rest. Most of the kids were screaming like banshees in a large bouncy castle set up in the corner of the yard, while others ran around holding all sorts of toy, shrieking at each other at the top of their little lungs.

Two tousled heads of hair, one chocolate brown, the other blond suddenly appeared at Bucky’s side, waving foam swords and screeching his name. It took Bucky a moment to recognize Steve’s boy, Hunter, and King, and then King was scrambling into his lap like a puppy, narrowly missing his balls.

“Coach! COACH!” He bellowed, as if Bucky were miles away across a shadowy moor and they were reduced to using only their voices for communication.

“Hey, Little Man.” Bucky leaned back from the dangerously waving weapon, thighs tensed to protect his jewels. He caught Steve’s smirk at his situation but then Hunter decided to do the same, leaping into Steve’s lap with the same reckless enthusiasm as King and Steve was suddenly too preoccupied trying to protect his own nads from destruction.

“You came to my party!”

“Yeah, buddy. I did.”

Grubby hands unexpectedly wrapped around his neck and Bucky suddenly didn’t care about anything else. Wrapping his arms around King, he basked in the little boy’s enthusiasm, the fondness for this child he’d held in his chest sharpening into something far more profound and intense.

When King finally scrambled back down and bounded away to rejoin his gang of rabble-rousers; Steve, who’d managed to detach his own son and send him on his criminal way as well, slapped his shoulder and grinned widely at him, making Bucky’s cheeks go pink.

Other parents eyed him with small smiles as well, making Bucky clear his throat self-consciously, and then Lev was back, falling into the empty chair beside Bucky with a laugh and a groan and his attention was immediately diverted, pulse beating just a little bit harder as he caught a hint of her scent; reminding him of sunshine and meadows of beautiful wildflowers.

Lev seemed more relaxed and a small, fleeting part of Bucky hoped it was because of him, but he pushed the thought away quickly. He couldn’t feed this wolf anymore; he couldn’t keep up with this idea that there was something between him and Lev. They were joined by tragedy, united by death and that was as far as it should go.

But if that was the way it was supposed to be, why was he so drawn to her? To her son? Why had he found his thoughts turning more and more to them, rushing into his mind first thing in the morning, the last scene to play in front of his eyes before he closed them at night?

Why, if this wasn’t ever supposed to be his, did he want it so badly?

Despite his turmoiled mind, there was enough going on in the backyard for him to push it aside, at least pretend it wasn’t gnawing insidiously at his brain and Bucky was surprised when he started to enjoy himself. He had avoided large crowds, big gatherings, since Maria’s death and had never truly been a social butterfly of his wife’s caliber anyway but, before he realized it, a few hours had passed and even the kids were starting to wind down.

King had looked adorable, pink-cheeked and grinning, as he sat in front of his cake, blowing out the candles with not too much spit thankfully, when his guests had finished singing. Some friend of Nat and Lev’s had made it, and had tasted surprisingly good, although the almost neon icing had taken more than a few hard sucks to completely pull the stain from your fingers.

Each present had been worth a cacophony of yells from both the birthday boy and his guests, but it had been the last one, Bucky’s gift that seemed to have the showstopper. When King had opened the gift bag and pulled out the pint-sized Ronaldo jersey, his eyes had gone huge and, when Lev had leaned over, murmuring to him who it was from, the little boy’s eyes had searched the crowd for Bucky and he’d scrambled from his chair to launch himself at him, crashing into his arms with a howl of pure excited glee.

“Thank you!” As fast as he’d landed in Bucky’s lap, King had again scrambled away, tearing off his shirt to yank on the jersey before snatching the new soccer ball from Uncle Steve and Aunty Nat and scampering away, leading a whole posse of screaming kids behind him

“Good job, man.” Steve murmured, leaning over to Bucky’s ear.

 King had then bounded up to him, begging him and Uncle Steve to come play soccer with him and Hunter, and that had taken up Bucky’s attention until Lev called a game over and Bucky had finally looked around, realizing that almost everyone was gone.

 “Mom. MOM?!” Hunter bellowed, running up to Nat. “Can King stay over? PLEASE?” He grabbed onto Nat’s shirt and tilted his head up, sending her an angelic look that left no doubt as to who his father was. Steve had used that same pleading puppy-dog look on Bucky last weekend when he’d begged him to help move an obnoxiously heavy fridge from his garage to the dump.

Nat glanced up at Lev, brow raised, and Lev smiled, shrugging. “If you think you can handle both little monsters tonight, go ahead.”

“Get your stuff, buddy.” Nat grinned.

“YAY!!” Both boys screamed, dashing into the house, barely avoiding a crash as they both tried to fit through the doorway into the house at the same time.

Bucky hovered, knowing he should be leaving but not able to muster the energy. He wanted to stay, even a bit longer and so far no one had zeroed in on him and demanded to know what he was still doing here. He watched with a fond smile as the boys reappeared, carrying an assortment of varied weapons and miscellany and shooting at each other with small Nerf guns.

“Did you pack any clothes?” Lev asked dryly, snagging King by the back of his shirt as he scampered by. He was still wearing the Ronaldo jersey.

“Clothes?” King asked, confused, peering up at his mother as if she’d suddenly started speaking a new language and Lev smirked. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

“Have fun today?” Nat asked Bucky innocently, stepping over to lean her back against Steve’s chest, who immediately wrapped his arms around her and dropped his chin to rest on the top of her head as he too awaited Bucky’s answer, a cat that got the canary grin on his big stupid face.

“Yeah, didn’t expect it to be so…”

“Insane?” Steve suggested.

“Loud.” Bucky finished. “I should know better, coaching half of them but still…”

“You’ll get used to it.” Nat replied, a knowing gleam in her eyes that made Bucky frown in confusion at her. Steve mumbled something in her ear, brow furrowed, and she just giggled, pressing a kiss to his chin and whispering back.

Lev reappeared, carrying a small backpack shaped like a Stegosaurus and called King to her. He skipped up, becoming serious when Lev dropped to one knee and gripped his upper arms gently, whispering earnestly and probably telling him to behave tonight. After a moment, she pressed a kiss to his forehead and the boy made a show of squirming away and wiping at his face, but the delighted grin on his face showed his true feelings.

A few minutes later, both yelling boys had been herded into the SUV and Bucky found himself standing alone beside Lev, waving as Steve and Nat backed out of the driveway and drove off with a honk.

“I should go.” Bucky mumbled, wanting to do anything but. He’d been spared any comments by Steve and Nat as they’d bundled the boys into the vehicle, but that didn’t mean he’d be safe later from any ‘observations’ they’d make of how he’d stayed later than them.

“NO,” Lev’s cheeks went pink “I mean…. stay for a bit, please. Today was so crazy we didn’t get any real chance to talk-” She trailed off uncertainly, her cheeks full on red now, matching the heat in Bucky’s face.

Twist my rubber arm, doll.

“Sure, okay.” He exhaled a little shakily, timidly, lips curving into a smile at Lev’s delighted grin.

“Go grab a seat, I’ll be right back.”

Bucky nodded, venturing into the backyard and sitting on the high-backed bench closest to the freestanding patio heater. The warm glow was comforting against the beginnings of twilight chill, while a firepit squatted nearby, ready to be lit as well.

Levi returned a few minutes later, carrying two bottles of beer and a blanket under one arm; then, after the briefest pause to peruse seating, plunked down on the same bench with Bucky and handed him a bottle.

“Here, try this.” She grinned. “An old friend of mine got me started on these oatmeal stouts; I didn’t have enough to go around.” She pulled the blanket between them. “Cold?”

Bucky gestured with his chin to the heater. “Nah, I’m good.”

Lev smiled, turning to face him and pulling her feet up to sit cross-legged. She squirmed for a moment to adjust the cushion at her back then opened the blanket to lay over her lap and settled back with a sigh.

“Thank you for staying.” She said quietly. “It’s nice to just sit down for a few minutes.”

“No problem.” Bucky mumbled, hiding his please grin behind another swallow. “This is good.” He nodded to the sweating bottle in his hand.

“I know, right?” Lev smiled, then fell silent, regarding him quietly long enough that Bucky felt the urge to start squirming in discomfort. “How are you doing?” She asked gently and Bucky knew immediately what she was referring to.

“Getting better.” He replied, his voice low. “Having work and the team to coach definitely helps. You?”

Lev nodded, then swallowed, looking suddenly uncomfortable herself. She glanced up at Bucky from under long lashes, looking surprisingly anxious. “I uh…” she cleared her throat. “I shouldn’t let you think the wrong thing about me and Brock, we…” she broke off, picking anxiously at a cuticle.

Bucky’s brow furrowed in confusion as he waited quietly.

“We weren’t like you and Maria, we weren’t… forever.” she finally continued, looking ashamed. “I was… I had divorce papers drawn up, I was ready to give them to Brock, but then he…”

Bucky stared for a moment, stunned. A thousand thoughts suddenly racing through his head. A small, secret little part of him rejoiced; Levi had been ready to leave her husband, akin to available, before his death. She’d already been looking to move on.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, knowing his words were totally inadequate and also, not truthful.

“No, it’s fine. We weren’t working out. I… I was young and stupid and thought the college boy I fell in love with would change, grow up with me. He wasn’t a bad guy, we just…. I was hopeful and naïve, and I forgave a lot.”

Anger burned low in Bucky’s chest; what had Levi been forced to ‘forgive’?

“It’s not stupid,” he began and, at Lev’s confused brow lift, continued. “Hoping someone will grow up, most people do.”

“I’m happy he’s gone.” She whispered in a rush then clapped her hand over her mouth, mortified. “I don’t mean it like that,” her eyes were huge. “I just…. It’s extreme yes, but… I don’t have to deal with him anymore, try and work with him over custody of King or anything.”

Bucky nodded, reaching over to squeeze her knee. “I understand, it’s alright.”

Lev wiped at her cheeks. “I mean, he would have fought me on everything, just to be a dick.” Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, but thankfully Bucky’s words seemed to have mollified her guilt. He never would believe she’d truly meant she was happy Brock was dead, she wasn’t that type of person, even if a small, secret part of Bucky was.

“How’s King doing, if I can ask that?”

Lev nodded. “No, it’s fine, you can ask. He’s… surprisingly good, actually. Brock was never really in his face anyway, never really a hands-on dad, so there wasn’t much to miss.”

“He didn’t help out?”

Levi shook her head, her tears finally stopping. “No. Not when King was a baby waking up all night hungry, or teething, never. He… I don’t know, he looked at King like an accessory or something. An object to compare to his friend’s kids. He didn’t like that King couldn’t walk as fast as his friend’s boy, or that he wasn’t using full sentences as soon as his boss’ daughter. Never mind that they weren’t the same age, King was never good enough for him, he was always pushing him to do more and… sooner rather than later it would have started to mess with his head, make him think there was something wrong with him when there’s not.”

Rage burned low in Bucky’s chest, a whole new facet of hatred for Rumslow. What kind of man treated his wife and kid that way? King was an incredible little boy, smart and articulate, kind and funny. Bucky knew he’d be proud to call King his own.

“I feel so guilty.” Levi whispered, the tears returning. She dropped her head into her hands. “I don’t regret having King at all, and I will always be grateful to Brock for giving me him, but…. What was I thinking? Bringing a child into that type of environment?” She shuddered. “Right up until King was born I hoped my pregnancy would trigger something in him, some switch would flip and he’d stop being such a frat boy, start paying attention to me and my wants, and the baby he’d helped make. But he didn’t, he wouldn’t.” Her voice broke and Bucky stopped thinking about what was right and proper in this situation.

Setting down his beer he scooted towards her, drawing Levi into his arms. She clung to him with surprising desperation, burying her face in his throat and, if the timing weren’t so gloomy, he probably would have groaned at the sensation, at the shiver of delight that shot up his spine.

“Hey,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her hair and closing his eyes, indulging in a heartbeat’s length of adoring the feel of her so close to him. “Hey, stop thinking that. You’re not a bad person, you’re not a bad mom; all that shit, that’s on him; it’s not your fault. He sounds like a total asshole, who wouldn’t love King? He’s such a special little man. Shit, I would’ve-” he broke off, suddenly dangerously close to unsteady ground, that minefield he’d worried about stepping through.

Lev went still in his arms and he could feel her desire to ask him to elaborate, to explain what he’d been about to say.

Shit, I would’ve treated you and King like the treasures you are, I never would have taken you for granted that way.

Levi raised her head; eyes glittering with tears and searched his face. Bucky gazed back down at her, dangerously close to letting everything he was fighting so hard not to feel flood his eyes. Her eyes dropped to his lips for a heartbeat, then back up to his eyes and time stood still.

Fighting himself every inch of the way, Bucky slowly lowered his head, searching Lev’s gaze for permission, some hint that she either wanted this or suddenly was coming to her senses and wanted to stop; but she never wavered and, as their lips touched in a sweet and tentative way, her lids fluttered shut in relief and Bucky let his own fall closed, warmth flooding his body.

Desire raged hot and hard in Bucky, demanding more but he kept the kiss light and gentle, a shy exploration of each other’s mouths, the taste of stout still on their tongues as he slicked his along her bottom lip then plunged gently inside as she parted her mouth for him, a sweet moan rising in her throat.

Pulling back, easily one of the most difficult things Bucky had ever done, he rested his forehead to hers, fighting to calm his breathing, to control his body from all but attacking her.

Lev panted with him, fingers curling against his shirt then one tentative hand reached up to cup his face, rasping against the stubble and he leaned into her touch, letting out a low groan.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, each word burning like acid. “I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s okay.” She breathed back.

“I… we need to-” He couldn’t force the words and so he acted instead, pushing gently away from Levi and returning to his end of the bench. He shivered at the loss of her body, her heat, against him and Lev watched him for a moment, multiple emotions warring in her eyes.

Part of Bucky hoped she stayed over there, while a bigger part wanted her to close the distance again.

Finally, she relaxed her shoulders and managed a shy smile, then unfolded the blanket to its full size and offered him one side. Bucky accepted, draping the cover over his shoulders, allowing himself this substitution. They shouldn’t be crawling all over each other, kissing, but they could share this blanket, that was bashfully intimate as well and far more the speed they should be going if they did plan on seeing where this went.

Levi settled back against the bench, turning to face forwards. There was space between them now, so much that it would difficult to lean over and nudge the other with their shoulder, but close enough that, if one dared, they could hold hands under the blanket.

For a time they were silent, gazing at the emerging stars, or the muted red glow of the patio heater, listening to the sporadic sounds of life around them, the occasional vehicle, owl hoot or dog bark but then Lev exhaled slowly and spoke, her voice hesitant.

“We were interrupted at dinner, but I asked if you ever wanted children. I don’t want to pry, but-”

“No, its fine.” Lev had bared enough of her wounds tonight, it was time for him to disclose a scar or two. “I did… I do. But Maria wasn’t interested… ever. It wasn’t a big deal when we got together but… as time passed, seeing friends have babies and stuff, I started to think about it more and more. I…” He trailed off, studying his hands knotted together, fingers twisting. “I kept putting it off, really talking about it with her though. It was obvious what she felt, she’d never babysat as a teenager, she never offered to hold any of our friend’s babies, even if I was always asking, just to feel that little bundle, that tiny weight in my arms; I’d test the waters, and hint and stuff, but she would always laugh and be like ‘no way’ and I just… let it go until there was no more time.”

“She never would have?”

Bucky considered a moment. “No, I don’t think so. One of the things I always loved about Maria was her conviction, even if it was against me. No meant no to her, every time.”

Levi gazed at Bucky silently, but he kept his gaze down. He wasn’t ready to show her, she wasn’t ready to see, the emotions crashing through his eyes right now. Finally, he found the strength to say what had been nibbling at the corners of his mind for some time now, a hard truth that had come with hindsight and miserable evaluation during long, sleepless nights, something he’d never even voiced out loud before, not ever really examined up close, just knew deep down, no matter how hard it was to acknowledge verbally.

“I think…. It would have been the issue that pushed us apart eventually… if she hadn’t died.”

He heard her breath catch but was too scared to look over and squeezed his eyes shut, praying that Lev didn’t show kindness right now, some form of acceptance for his stark confession, maybe reach over to touch him, or whisper sweet words, because he was too raw, too open right now for it to do anything but agonize.

“I’m sorry.” She finally murmured, barely audible but he heard her in the silence, felt the pain all the same.

 Me too.

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 3x10--The One About the End of the World

I did it, I wrote recaps for all of season 3. 

Oooh, this ep starts off with the credits.

This is the season 3 finale, but it’s not written by the Kings. Maybe they were busy with Evil at this point? As I’ve mentioned before, Evil is very good. I am NOT a fan of horror, but Evil works for me for several reasons. If you haven’t seen it, you might be imagining it’s full of jumpscares and gore. It certainly has its fair share of jumpscares and gore, but they’re not the point. The show’s definition of evil isn’t just demons… it’s radicalized misogyny and slavery and racial inequalities. And, as you might expect from a show written by the Kings, evil manifests itself in misuses of technology quite frequently. 

Honestly, I think I laugh more than I cover my eyes while watching. And, to be clear, I laugh because the show is funny. It’s quirky and bizarre, serious enough to be dramatic but light enough to be watchable.

It’s also got a central myth-arc (way more serialized and puzzlebox-y than TGW/TGF/Braindead) that’s as complicated as you want it to be. If you want to look for the hidden puzzle pieces (literal puzzle pieces!) you can. If you want to be an attentive but univested viewer, you’ll be able to follow the arc just fine. The arc itself is pretty simple and the Kings use recurring guest stars to build a web that pays off over the course of the season. So if you’re used to following a TV show with lots of guest stars-- and you all are, since you’re viewers of TGF-- the mytharc isn’t going to demand a lot of effort to follow. 

Speaking of guest stars, you WILL recognize at least one familiar face per episode. And if you pay attention to the credits, you’ll recognize the names behind the scenes, too. I love it when showrunners collaborate with the same people over and over-- it makes me think they’re good to work with and look out for their friends. 

Just finishing up the most recent season of Younger before I jump into writing this and there was a Liza/Charles scene giving me MAJOR Alicia/Peter in Death of a Client vibes, mostly because of her hairdo. Then I realized: both scenes were DEFINITELY filmed in the same place. I love it. 

Confession: I don’t actually remember anything about this ep, except for the very end.

Kurt was working from home! He was prepping for 2020.

Oh we saw Julius leave the firm to become a judge? And here I thought it was a spoiler he was in a robe in the s4 trailer.

There is talk of making Lucca a partner! Yes! There’s also discussion of someone named Rosalyn, who I’m sure is great but also, have you met Lucca Quinn? But in all seriousness, if the writers want me to truly believe there’s another associate who can rival Lucca, they have to show it to me.

I do believe the partner who says Rosalyn would be better for the culture of the firm than Lucca, though. Lucca hasn’t shown herself to be that invested in getting to know her colleagues (aside from the two white girls), and I think (not sure though) Rosalyn is the one we’ve seen speaking up the last several episodes. 

Jay is going to dig into Book Club more, and I cannot wait until this is gone.

Cookies shouldn’t have photorealistic faces on them. 

Did they REALLY hire white guys for the mailroom because that consultant said to?

There is a very angry former client of RBL asking for more money from Julius. Blum put him up to it. Go away, Blum! 

Now there’s a lawsuit to make it seem like RBL is exploiting all the police brutality victims they’re represented. This is part of Blum’s plot.

Diane accidentally answers a call from Marissa, so Marissa gets to hear all the gossip about salaries and partnerships.

Now there’s weird lightning. Not in the clear yet! 

Oh RIGHT, there was that FaceTime defect. I forgot about it. 

Lucca doesn’t want to know what Marissa heard, but she’s happy to hear more once Marissa’s started the conversation. 

Is it possible for a man to say “ladies, we’ll get to you” in a work setting without sounding sexist? I don’t think it is.

Casually sexist judge likes Blum. 

Oh hello Maia. Blum says Maia became “disgusted and quit” after seeing RBL’s methods. Well, that’s a lie. You’d know it was a lie even if we hadn’t seen Maia get fired, because in order for Maia to know the firm’s methods she would have to do work. (OKAY I WILL STOP BUT THIS IS THE LAST EPISODE WHERE I CAN MAKE JOKES AND I’M GONNA MISS MY PUNCHING BAG A LITTLE BIT)

Maia is using her mom’s name and carrying the portfolio Diane gave her, just to throw Diane off.  

Diane confronts her about it and asks if this is retribution. Maia says it’s just “lawyering.”  Maia could have gone to any other firm-- like, even Canning’s firm-- and I would’ve thought she had a point. I would say trying to throw Diane off is mean but no worse than what others have done. But Blum is so hateful and malicious Maia has no ground to stand on. 

Maia says she’s coming after RBL because they’ve done wrong. She sounds like she’s convinced herself-- or maybe she’s gotten that good at lying. (It is telling that so many former clients would be willing to join this suit, though-- Maia isn’t wrong about that)

Show title spoken alert!

I am pretty sure the Diane/Maia scene right there is one I would have ripped Diane to shreds for if it had been her vs Alicia, and Blum wasn’t involved, because Maia’s being very practical (Blum is out to screw you; I am here for the clients) and Diane is on her high horse. Hell, maybe I’d even take Maia’s side if we got Blum out of the picture. But I hate him. And Maia’s on this case because Blum said so. She’s running his firm and working with all his clients; this one just happens to have a way to spin as doing good. 

Kurt has to intro 45 and is drafting a speech. Diane doesn’t know yet, so she thinks his scribbled “the last two years have been amazing/brought me a new optimism” are about her. She finds out the real meaning for the scribbles and leaves the room.

Blum’s here again. I hate him. 

Also RBL may have caught Blum and turned him in to the ACDB but Blum got disbarred all on his own by doing disbarrable shit repeatedly and knowingly. 

Lightning balls. Weird. 

Lucca asks Jay how she’s thought of. I feel like if you have to ask that question you’re probably not thought of as an integral part of the culture. This is a smart thing to show as Lucca’s weak spot. She’s never liked making friends. Lucca also worries she’s “not black enough” for the firm.

“Everyone likes you. Just, a lot of the associates think you never hang out,” Jay says. “So it’s high school? I don’t care about being popular. Who has time to hang out?” Lucca responds. That’s the problem, right there! Maybe this isn’t such a thing at RBL, but where I work, the partners always make a point of greeting everyone, sticking around at happy hours, etc. Part of their job is to create the culture. RBL doesn’t seem to have that culture, but I absolutely understand why some of the partners want it to. 

And the “not black enough” comment is coming at least in part from Lucca’s tendency to surround herself with all the white characters when she does socialize. 

“I do not have to prove myself to anyone, or perform what they think black should look like. This is 2019. I’m not playing this stupid fucking game,” Lucca responds. She’s right, I think, but I would also be curious to hear other perspectives. This situation feels pretty nuanced to me in that I think it can simultaneously be true that Lucca can act however she wants and shouldn’t be judged or typed for it AND that there’s a somewhat strong case against Lucca as a partner because of her engagement with her coworkers.

Does the fact that I like Evil!Maia so much mean I secretly liked Maia all this time??? 

Jay asks Marissa to help him create more diverse happy hours. And then it’s time for them to confront Book Club. Jay’s got some intel on Rochelle, who’s legit enough to have done polling for Eli. Overcharging a client 30% for a focus group seems like maybe not a big enough deal to blackmail someone with, but Jay tries!

Rochelle isn’t having it and tells Jay and Marissa, basically, that she’s going to escalate things. 

Oh there are very many guns in Diane and Kurt’s bedroom suite thing. 

Diane winds up writing Kurt’s speech for him by bullshiting. Kurt knows it’s bullshit. Diane’s writing a parody but it’s also not parody at all. “A parody but it’s also not parody at all’ is also true of the mindfuck that’s been the last four years. 

Jay ends up doing drawings of cartoon animals to be used in court because the judge can’t understand anything complicated. One cartoon is Judy Giraffe, who may share a name with the toy Andrew Wiley’s kids had in late season 6 (but I’m too lazy to look it up and see if I’m right about that).

This also may just be Zootopia. 

LOL there’s ASMR happening now. I could explain why but it’s more fun if I don’t. 

This scene is hilariously over the top. 

Maia was 12 in 2000. I feel like that’s inconsistent with other timelines we’ve been given but whatever. 

Lucca awkwardly tries to socialize. Lucca immediately misspeaks by saying she thinks Obama probably wished that for one day he didn’t have to be “the black president” and her colleagues freeze up and push back.

Marissa then shows up and the scene ends. Awkward. 

Now Blum’s hired actors to be disruptive in court. Ridiculous. I hate Blum. That said, this isn’t really any lower than Diane’s ASMR shenanigans. 

Blum is singing now, goodbye. 

I FORGOT ABOUT THE CORRUPT JUDGE ADRIAN WAS FUCKING.

So much COTW in this ep. Remember how it used to have meaning when the regulars got called to the stand? Like, I know this is technically character driven drama but it’s nowhere near as engaging as last episode’s internal investigations.

Rosalyn comes into Lucca’s office: she knows they’re up for the same partnership, and understands that’s why Lucca came to drinks. Rosalyn was informed by one of the partners, and as much as I like Lucca, Rosalyn is making quite a good case for herself by handling herself so professionally here. She comes to Lucca once she realizes the partners are pitting them against each other, “because that’s what people do to the black girls.” I want to hear more of what Rosalyn is about to say, but she’s cut off by BALL LIGHTNING. What the fuck? Now the power is out. 

Rosalyn thinks it’s the end times. The red skies do suggest that. Lucca is unconvinced. 

Diane pays Maia a visit. “So, you got what you wanted. A corner office,” Diane says. Had Maia expressed this wish? Or is Diane mocking her?

Maia says she knows what she’s getting with Blum, and “sometimes that’s better.” She isn’t wrong. But it’s BLUM. 

Diane offers Maia her job back. No, PARTNERSHIP at RBL. HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. It’s hilarious enough in isolation, but the thought of Maia getting partnership over Lucca or Rosalyn (who both seem very deserving) makes it even worse. I think half of their staff would quit if Maia was made partner. 

It’s more money and Maia is skeptical. She (wisely) guesses that she’d be forced out after six months, but Diane (has she talked to any of the other partners about this?) says that wouldn’t happen. “You’re trying to buy me out of my case,” Maia FINALLY realizes. Well, I guess it makes sense she’d believe she was actually deserving of a partnership after two years of half working. 

Diane says it’s also because she impressed Adrian. Lol, okay. If that’s what it takes to make the suit go away.

Maia says she’ll think about it and asks Diane if it’s weird that they’ve ended up in this spot. Diane says yes and smiles.

Blum overheard the whole thing, naturally. He tells Diane that Maia won’t go with her. Now he is singing. Why is he singing. Why won’t he stop singing.

Liz does not like that Adrian and Corrupt Judge are friends. Why is Corrupt Judge here?

Diane watches Kurt awkwardly avoid clapping while standing directly behind 45. It is very funny and Diane enjoys it. Kurt is then removed from the audience, which leads Diane to say “Kurt, my God, I love you.” The incident makes the news almost instantly.

This Good Fight short has the characters in it. I imagine there’s a non-zero chance we get an animated, musical S4 wrap up given that they had to halt production. 

It’s weird there’s a short that says the season is over, followed by another scene.

Lucca and Marissa discuss how Maia got the partnership offer. Why would Diane or any of the partners let that slip?! “Two black girls are up for the job and they give it to the white girl,” Lucca says. Marissa’s surprised she’s not angry, but Lucca explains-- she knows Maia’s not going to take it. Marissa thinks Maia will, but Lucca understands that Maia’s moved on. 

Lucca no longer cares about the partnership because she’s realized “the best thing is to not care.” It’s almost like she was friends with Season 7 Alicia, who said this like twice an episode. 

Then Marissa and Lucca drop acid in the office because the world is ending, I guess. 

Didn’t the s1 finale also do this end of the world thing? A less apocalyptic version.

I think this Diane and Adrian scene may be a callback to that finale.

Diane posits that love and hope will get us through the endtimes.

Aaaah the case is still happening but I’m SO CLOSE to being done with season 3. I still love what TGF is doing, but its central devices and plots for season 2 worked so much better.

RBL wins! Diane notes that Maia hasn’t responded to their offer. Does that mean someone is still considering giving Maia a fucking partnership even though the case is closed? HA. 

Maia points this out and Diane insists they really want Maia home. This is probably the worst judgment I’ve ever seen Diane have? She wants to bring her goddaughter who is three years out of law school on as a partner at her firm, OVER two extremely qualified black women? Even if Maia were truly the best lawyer ever, the optics alone are bad enough to make Maia a terrible choice.

Maia decides, instead, to head for D.C. with Blum. She gets in an elevator and sucks on a fentanyl lollipop, which, sure, why not? I think they offer her partnership purely so we the viewers can see she’s choosing to emulate Blum and she likes it. 

BYE BLUM!!!!!!!!!! BYE MAIA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I won’t really miss either of you, but also, what am I going to write about when I can’t complain about Maia? 

And we’re back in the opening moments of the premiere, which, as it turns out, were a flashforward to this moment in which Kurt and Diane get SWATted seconds after Diane announces she’s happy and Kurt asks what could go wrong. I hope they’re both ok because I won’t be able to deal if they do anything to Kurt. (Or Diane but I’m less concerned about them killing her off lol.)

That’s a wrap! 

[johnboothus]

Wine 101: The Points System

This episode of “Wine 101” is sponsored by E & J Gallo Winery. At Gallo, we exist to serve enjoyment in moments that matter. The hallmark of our company has always been an unwavering commitment to making quality wine and spirits. Whether it’s getting Barefoot and having a great time, making every day sparkle with La Marca Prosecco, or continuing our legacy with Louis Martini in Napa, we want to welcome new friends to wine and share in all of life’s moments.

Interested in trying some of the wine brands discussed on “Wine 101”? Follow the link in each episode description to purchase featured wines or browse our full portfolio at TheBarrelRoom.com. Cheers, and all the best.

Click the link below to discover and purchase wine brands discussed on the “Wine 101” podcast series. Get 15% OFF of your purchase of $75 or more when you use the coupon code “wine15″ at checkout. https://www.thebarrelroom.com/discover.html?src=vinepair

In this episode of “Wine 101,” VinePair tastings director Keith Beavers discusses the 100-point wine scoring system, which has long influenced American wine culture. Beavers details the history of the system, and how famed wine critic Robert Parker popularized it in the late 1960s — using the United States’ high school grading system as a model.

Beavers also explains why other publications — including VinePair — have since adopted Parker’s points system, and why these wine scores have continued to influence the market and American palate even after Parker’s retirement.

Tune in to learn more about the hundred-point system.

Listen Online

Listen on Apple Podcasts

Listen on Spotify

Or Check out the Conversation Here

Keith Beavers: My name is Keith Beavers, and sometimes, I just think to myself, “Keith, why can’t you get into Wes Anderson films?”

What’s going on, wine lovers? Welcome to Episode 28 of VinePair’s “Wine 101” podcast. My name is Keith Beavers. It’s Season 2, and how are you? Wow, that rhymed. I don’t know if you guys are familiar with the 100-point wine scoring system, but we have to talk about it.

Wow. Scoring wine. What’s that about? People make wine, and scores are applied to those wines by random people. Then, you go out into the world, and you look at the scores. Now, not all, but some of us buy wine based on scores. That’s crazy, right? The thing is, buying anything with scores today is what we do. When we want to go to a restaurant, we look for at least four and a half stars, right, guys? What are we doing with three and a half? What are we doing with that?

When you’re on Amazon and you’re looking up something you want to buy — especially with something a little more expensive — you’re reading the reviews. You’re hoping that item is at least four and a half stars so we’re used to this whole scoring thing. When we read online, there are a lot of roundups. We have them on VinePair with “the best of this, the best of that.” We rank things. It’s easy, it’s fun. It’s shorthand. You say, “Cool, just help me figure this out so I can go and do this. I’ll get into it more in-depth later, but right now, I just need a score.”

This is how our world works. In the wine world, the literature of wine has been going on since antiquity. Back in the day, all the way up until the 19th century, it was really mostly about agriculture. People writing about wine when they weren’t really scoring wine. They were talking about wines they may have liked. Even Pliny the Elder, in the ancient Roman era, would write about wines that he liked from different parts of Italy. Yet, a lot of the work being done in literature back in the day was more about the vine, the vineyard, maybe even viticulture. Of course, all that was mostly in Europe.

For the United States, though, from colonization all the way through to Prohibition, there was a lot of wine literature being pumped out. It was chaotic, disorganized, and people trying to figure out how to make wine in the United States was an absolute nightmare. That was based on which wines work. It wasn’t until the 1960s when the United States started realizing, “Oh, wine that’s not sweet like we had in Prohibition is actually good. We like dry red wine with a little bit of acidity and structure.”

As we started learning how to drink wine again, a lot of literature would come out to help us enjoy wine. Books on wine etiquette and how to throw wine parties and this misunderstood science of how to understand aromas and flavors. As we saw Napa rise before the Judgment of Paris and before it became its own American viticultural area, there were great things happening in Napa. It’s one of the reasons why the Judgment of Paris happened.

In Napa and Sonoma, there were people there helping the people who lived there enjoy wine. One of the most well known is Robert Finnegan. He was in the story I told last week in the Judgment of Paris. There were people out there helping Americans enjoy wine but it wasn’t until the hundred-point system was applied to wine in the United States that things got crazy.

That is because of one man: Robert M. Parker Jr. If you’re not familiar with that name, this is one of our premier or first celebrity wine critics who became nationally and internationally famous for his writing about wine and this scoring thing with wine. It got to the point where a score from Robert Parker could define the price of your wine. I’m not sure if his story has a humble beginning, but it’s a very typical American Eastern Seaboard story where he was born and raised outside of Baltimore. He became a lawyer in Baltimore. At the age of 20, he tried his first wine, I believe it was at law school. He fell in love with wine, and this started his whole love for wine, as we all do. When you taste wine for the first time, you say “Oh, my gosh.” Then, you start working your way through wine trying to understand it, listening to “Wine 101,” you know how it goes.

As he practiced law, he was able to explore wines. He actually went to Europe at one point and enjoyed Bordeaux and Burgundy wines. This is so fascinating because Robert Parker was around at the right time doing what he was doing. As we’ve talked about in the past few episodes, when it comes to American wine history, this moment in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s was a catalyst moment for us. The timing here is crazy. He was falling more in love with wine, but still practicing law. However, he was getting very frustrated with the lack of independent and reliable criticism about wine. He wanted to read more tasting notes than guides to where to go. There’s a story I read in the mid-’70s when he was at dinner with one of his friends and he was a lawyer friend, I’m not really sure. This friend was fascinated with the fact or Robert Parker’s ability to assess wine and said, “Hey, you should be doing this full-time instead of law.”.

I don’t know if that was the conversation that made it happen, but Robert Parker was thinking about launching his own buyer’s guide. He said, “If people can’t do it, I’m going to do it right.” He decides to launch this newsletter bi-monthly called The Wine Advocate. It was his way of dissecting wines. This guy wrote very copious tasting notes. He went down to some serious detail.

In 1978, the first newsletter went out. What happened here is I guess nobody really knew how hungry Americans were to understand wine. By 1984, The Wine Advocate was doing well enough that he could retire from law and have this be his full-time gig. Now, it was time to really make a name for himself. I don’t know if he planned this or not, but he did an extremely detailed breakdown and description of the 1982 vintage of Bordeaux, to the point where it really got the attention of the French. It prompted him to actually release a Wine Advocate in French, and that blew up.

By 1998, The Wine Advocate had 45,000 subscribers from all over the world, mainly the U.S. and France, but I think it was 30-plus other countries. People were subscribing to this. People wanted to know about wine. At that point, he was the only voice doing it. Now, Robert Parker wasn’t the only one with a newsletter in the United States. There were hundreds of them, I’m sure, and there were some that were probably very influential to their communities, but Robert Parker was on an international level at this point. There was something about his newsletter that was different than everybody else’s.

He was the first to apply scores to wines. This is why it became such a big deal. He designed the hundred-point scoring system that he used for wine off of the United States high school grading system, which started from 50 at the lowest, all the way up to 100. Every American could understand that point system.

He would give points to wines, and mostly it was Bordeaux and then some American wines, but he was really fascinated with Bordeaux. The scores he applied to wines, he did not believe these were the major part of the entries of his newsletter. I’ll paraphrase here: He really wanted people to use the point as a supplement to the tasting notes. This guy wrote, again, very detailed tasting notes about wine. He wanted that to be the feature of his newsletter, not the points. However, this is at a time in America when we were, again, very hungry for wine knowledge.

If we’re hungry for wine knowledge and we’re in a modern era where distribution and importation is now a thing, wine reps selling to retail stores and restaurants, started to rely on these points very heavily because the wines that Robert Parker was writing about were not your everyday wines. These were fine wines, or wines built to age.

One of the reasons why The Wine Advocate was so respected, beyond the tasting notes and the scores, was there were no ads. It was just wine information cover to cover with no distractions. As people noticed how successful the scoring thing could be, they started applying it to their own ventures. For example, Marvin Shanken, who created Wine Spectator, which I think started as a newsletter but quickly became a magazine — he started using a hundred-point system for scoring wines their own way. That is a magazine, so there are advertisements there.

That’s where capitalism started churning out. This idea of scores and wine started to really define what people looked for in a wine. They didn’t look for what was inside the bottle so much as they looked for the score. They assumed that the higher the score, the better the wine, which is true. Yet, there was really no indication as to their personal preference in that score, and that’s the capper. That’s the twist with numerical scores to denote the quality of wine, and that led to some controversy.

For example, Hugh Johnson, who’s a very famous wine writer in the U.K. and wine critic, said, “You’re going to apply a score to a wine that’s going to age, so it’s going to change. Are you going to then apply a score later on? How do you correlate that score that you apply later on with the earlier score? It’s a mess. This doesn’t work.” But Robert Parker didn’t see wine that way, specifically.

There’s a quote on the cover of his newsletter that says, “Wine is no different from any consumer product. There are specific standards of quality that full-time wine professionals recognize.” Obviously, he was approaching wine with this very calculated effort, and someone like Hugh Johnson had more of a sense of where a wine was going and that it’s an active thing. It’s not just a snapshot in time wine.

Also, Robert Parker really loved Bordeaux and also really enjoyed deep, dark, fuller-bodied red wines. He was mostly a red wine critic, and he ended up doing a lot of his little literary work in Bordeaux and in the Rhône. It got to the point that his influence was so great that winemakers in France, Italy, the United States, Spain, and beyond would make wines so that he would actually like them and get big scores so those scores could get them sales. Even though Robert Parker wanted the scores to be a supplement to his very detailed notes, this system was just too easy. It was just too good.

This became the standard. A score on wine defined its price, its popularity, and its reputation. Other publications like The Wine Spectator and eventually Wine Enthusiast applied scores as well. That’s what the game became. It was a score thing.

Today, scores are still very popular. They’re not the standard they once were, but they still have influence. I believe The Wine Advocate morphed into robertparker.com, which is his website. In 2012, he sold that entire website to a Singapore ex-wine merchant for $1.5 million. So he retired, but his idea never did. To this day, scores are still applied to wine, so we gotta talk about that. What does it mean when a score is applied to wine? How do you figure that out?

One of the cool reasons why scoring is not as popular as it once was is because these days we, the American drinking culture, are more interested in the stories behind the wines than we are about applying a calculated score to a wine. And tasting notes are also very important to us, but the language of tasting notes is a whole other thing. We go over that in previous episodes, of course, but there’s something nice about a point. It’s a number. It’s quick and easy to understand. It’s very shorthand. If you trust the person who’s giving the score, you trust the score. It’s also something that transcends all languages. It’s a number — everyone knows 93. Everyone knows what a 94 is, but no matter how calculated a point is supposed to be applied to wine, it’s a very arbitrary thing. How do you trust a score applied to a wine, knowing you’re to spend some money on wine? Every 100-point system is very similar, but every one is actually different from one another. Every system is created independently and designed for that particular publication or entity to get its message across.

At VinePair, we’ve actually created our own hundred-point scoring system with our own levels in tiers and how we think a hundred-point system should be applied to when we review wines. Being the tastings director of VinePair, I’m the one that does all the tasting and all the reviewing. Using that system that we developed helps me get my message across to you guys, based on how VinePair sees a certain wine.

That’s where the 100-point system exists today. It’s similar to a movie critic. When you want to see a movie, I don’t know about you, but I have certain movie or film critics that I like to read before I see a movie because I often agree with what they say. This is similar to the 100-point wine scoring system. You go to a wine shop, and you see a point, that point is given to that wine by somebody. If you’re familiar with that somebody, and you like the way that somebody talks about wine, you’re probably going to go ahead look at that number and choose to buy the bottle of wine based on that person’s wine score. If you see a number from another wine critic that you may not know, you may not get the wine or you may get it anyway, but not take into account the score. That is how it works these days, because wine is so much more than one point, but it’s a really good, quick reference point for you if you know who’s actually giving the point and agree with that person’s taste in wine.

Even though these numbers can seem a little bit arbitrary — and they are arbitrary and subjective because it is one person’s palate or a panel of palates making a decision on wine and a score — what’s really cool is every website has its own hundred-point system with its criteria so you can see why they’ve chosen what they’ve chosen. At VinePair, we have our 100-point system in categories and we have it all explained for you. If you look at a wine on VinePair that I reviewed and given a score to, you can go and look at that link to see why where it is in the scale of why I said what I said.

That’s a little bit of history, application, evolution, and where we are today with this 100-point wine scoring system. I don’t think it’s going to go anywhere for a very long time. Even though today, stories and backgrounds are so much more enjoyable today than just a cold, hard score, that score will always help us in a pinch if we trust the person giving the score.

@VinePairKeith is my Insta. Rate and review this podcast wherever you get your podcast from. It really helps get the word out there. And now for some totally awesome credits.

“Wine 101” was produced, recorded, and edited by yours truly, Keith Beavers, at the VinePair headquarters in New York City. I want to give a big ol’ shout-out to co-founders Adam Teeter and Josh Malin for creating VinePair. And I mean, a big shout-out to Danielle Grinberg, the art director of VinePair, for creating the most awesome logo for this podcast. Also, Darbi Cicci for the theme song. Listen to this. And I want to thank the entire VinePair staff for helping me learn something new every day. See you next week.

Ed. note: This episode has been edited for length and clarity.

The article Wine 101: The Points System appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/wine-101-points-system/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/wine-101-the-points-system

[wineanddinosaur]

Wine 101: The Points System

This episode of “Wine 101” is sponsored by E & J Gallo Winery. At Gallo, we exist to serve enjoyment in moments that matter. The hallmark of our company has always been an unwavering commitment to making quality wine and spirits. Whether it’s getting Barefoot and having a great time, making every day sparkle with La Marca Prosecco, or continuing our legacy with Louis Martini in Napa, we want to welcome new friends to wine and share in all of life’s moments.

Interested in trying some of the wine brands discussed on “Wine 101”? Follow the link in each episode description to purchase featured wines or browse our full portfolio at TheBarrelRoom.com. Cheers, and all the best.

Click the link below to discover and purchase wine brands discussed on the “Wine 101” podcast series. Get 15% OFF of your purchase of $75 or more when you use the coupon code “wine15″ at checkout. https://www.thebarrelroom.com/discover.html?src=vinepair

In this episode of “Wine 101,” VinePair tastings director Keith Beavers discusses the 100-point wine scoring system, which has long influenced American wine culture. Beavers details the history of the system, and how famed wine critic Robert Parker popularized it in the late 1960s — using the United States’ high school grading system as a model.

Beavers also explains why other publications — including VinePair — have since adopted Parker’s points system, and why these wine scores have continued to influence the market and American palate even after Parker’s retirement.

Tune in to learn more about the hundred-point system.

Listen Online

Listen on Apple Podcasts

Listen on Spotify

Or Check out the Conversation Here

Keith Beavers: My name is Keith Beavers, and sometimes, I just think to myself, “Keith, why can’t you get into Wes Anderson films?”

What’s going on, wine lovers? Welcome to Episode 28 of VinePair’s “Wine 101” podcast. My name is Keith Beavers. It’s Season 2, and how are you? Wow, that rhymed. I don’t know if you guys are familiar with the 100-point wine scoring system, but we have to talk about it.

Wow. Scoring wine. What’s that about? People make wine, and scores are applied to those wines by random people. Then, you go out into the world, and you look at the scores. Now, not all, but some of us buy wine based on scores. That’s crazy, right? The thing is, buying anything with scores today is what we do. When we want to go to a restaurant, we look for at least four and a half stars, right, guys? What are we doing with three and a half? What are we doing with that?

When you’re on Amazon and you’re looking up something you want to buy — especially with something a little more expensive — you’re reading the reviews. You’re hoping that item is at least four and a half stars so we’re used to this whole scoring thing. When we read online, there are a lot of roundups. We have them on VinePair with “the best of this, the best of that.” We rank things. It’s easy, it’s fun. It’s shorthand. You say, “Cool, just help me figure this out so I can go and do this. I’ll get into it more in-depth later, but right now, I just need a score.”

This is how our world works. In the wine world, the literature of wine has been going on since antiquity. Back in the day, all the way up until the 19th century, it was really mostly about agriculture. People writing about wine when they weren’t really scoring wine. They were talking about wines they may have liked. Even Pliny the Elder, in the ancient Roman era, would write about wines that he liked from different parts of Italy. Yet, a lot of the work being done in literature back in the day was more about the vine, the vineyard, maybe even viticulture. Of course, all that was mostly in Europe.

For the United States, though, from colonization all the way through to Prohibition, there was a lot of wine literature being pumped out. It was chaotic, disorganized, and people trying to figure out how to make wine in the United States was an absolute nightmare. That was based on which wines work. It wasn’t until the 1960s when the United States started realizing, “Oh, wine that’s not sweet like we had in Prohibition is actually good. We like dry red wine with a little bit of acidity and structure.”

As we started learning how to drink wine again, a lot of literature would come out to help us enjoy wine. Books on wine etiquette and how to throw wine parties and this misunderstood science of how to understand aromas and flavors. As we saw Napa rise before the Judgment of Paris and before it became its own American viticultural area, there were great things happening in Napa. It’s one of the reasons why the Judgment of Paris happened.

In Napa and Sonoma, there were people there helping the people who lived there enjoy wine. One of the most well known is Robert Finnegan. He was in the story I told last week in the Judgment of Paris. There were people out there helping Americans enjoy wine but it wasn’t until the hundred-point system was applied to wine in the United States that things got crazy.

That is because of one man: Robert M. Parker Jr. If you’re not familiar with that name, this is one of our premier or first celebrity wine critics who became nationally and internationally famous for his writing about wine and this scoring thing with wine. It got to the point where a score from Robert Parker could define the price of your wine. I’m not sure if his story has a humble beginning, but it’s a very typical American Eastern Seaboard story where he was born and raised outside of Baltimore. He became a lawyer in Baltimore. At the age of 20, he tried his first wine, I believe it was at law school. He fell in love with wine, and this started his whole love for wine, as we all do. When you taste wine for the first time, you say “Oh, my gosh.” Then, you start working your way through wine trying to understand it, listening to “Wine 101,” you know how it goes.

As he practiced law, he was able to explore wines. He actually went to Europe at one point and enjoyed Bordeaux and Burgundy wines. This is so fascinating because Robert Parker was around at the right time doing what he was doing. As we’ve talked about in the past few episodes, when it comes to American wine history, this moment in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s was a catalyst moment for us. The timing here is crazy. He was falling more in love with wine, but still practicing law. However, he was getting very frustrated with the lack of independent and reliable criticism about wine. He wanted to read more tasting notes than guides to where to go. There’s a story I read in the mid-’70s when he was at dinner with one of his friends and he was a lawyer friend, I’m not really sure. This friend was fascinated with the fact or Robert Parker’s ability to assess wine and said, “Hey, you should be doing this full-time instead of law.”.

I don’t know if that was the conversation that made it happen, but Robert Parker was thinking about launching his own buyer’s guide. He said, “If people can’t do it, I’m going to do it right.” He decides to launch this newsletter bi-monthly called The Wine Advocate. It was his way of dissecting wines. This guy wrote very copious tasting notes. He went down to some serious detail.

In 1978, the first newsletter went out. What happened here is I guess nobody really knew how hungry Americans were to understand wine. By 1984, The Wine Advocate was doing well enough that he could retire from law and have this be his full-time gig. Now, it was time to really make a name for himself. I don’t know if he planned this or not, but he did an extremely detailed breakdown and description of the 1982 vintage of Bordeaux, to the point where it really got the attention of the French. It prompted him to actually release a Wine Advocate in French, and that blew up.

By 1998, The Wine Advocate had 45,000 subscribers from all over the world, mainly the U.S. and France, but I think it was 30-plus other countries. People were subscribing to this. People wanted to know about wine. At that point, he was the only voice doing it. Now, Robert Parker wasn’t the only one with a newsletter in the United States. There were hundreds of them, I’m sure, and there were some that were probably very influential to their communities, but Robert Parker was on an international level at this point. There was something about his newsletter that was different than everybody else’s.

He was the first to apply scores to wines. This is why it became such a big deal. He designed the hundred-point scoring system that he used for wine off of the United States high school grading system, which started from 50 at the lowest, all the way up to 100. Every American could understand that point system.

He would give points to wines, and mostly it was Bordeaux and then some American wines, but he was really fascinated with Bordeaux. The scores he applied to wines, he did not believe these were the major part of the entries of his newsletter. I’ll paraphrase here: He really wanted people to use the point as a supplement to the tasting notes. This guy wrote, again, very detailed tasting notes about wine. He wanted that to be the feature of his newsletter, not the points. However, this is at a time in America when we were, again, very hungry for wine knowledge.

If we’re hungry for wine knowledge and we’re in a modern era where distribution and importation is now a thing, wine reps selling to retail stores and restaurants, started to rely on these points very heavily because the wines that Robert Parker was writing about were not your everyday wines. These were fine wines, or wines built to age.

One of the reasons why The Wine Advocate was so respected, beyond the tasting notes and the scores, was there were no ads. It was just wine information cover to cover with no distractions. As people noticed how successful the scoring thing could be, they started applying it to their own ventures. For example, Marvin Shanken, who created Wine Spectator, which I think started as a newsletter but quickly became a magazine — he started using a hundred-point system for scoring wines their own way. That is a magazine, so there are advertisements there.

That’s where capitalism started churning out. This idea of scores and wine started to really define what people looked for in a wine. They didn’t look for what was inside the bottle so much as they looked for the score. They assumed that the higher the score, the better the wine, which is true. Yet, there was really no indication as to their personal preference in that score, and that’s the capper. That’s the twist with numerical scores to denote the quality of wine, and that led to some controversy.

For example, Hugh Johnson, who’s a very famous wine writer in the U.K. and wine critic, said, “You’re going to apply a score to a wine that’s going to age, so it’s going to change. Are you going to then apply a score later on? How do you correlate that score that you apply later on with the earlier score? It’s a mess. This doesn’t work.” But Robert Parker didn’t see wine that way, specifically.

There’s a quote on the cover of his newsletter that says, “Wine is no different from any consumer product. There are specific standards of quality that full-time wine professionals recognize.” Obviously, he was approaching wine with this very calculated effort, and someone like Hugh Johnson had more of a sense of where a wine was going and that it’s an active thing. It’s not just a snapshot in time wine.

Also, Robert Parker really loved Bordeaux and also really enjoyed deep, dark, fuller-bodied red wines. He was mostly a red wine critic, and he ended up doing a lot of his little literary work in Bordeaux and in the Rhône. It got to the point that his influence was so great that winemakers in France, Italy, the United States, Spain, and beyond would make wines so that he would actually like them and get big scores so those scores could get them sales. Even though Robert Parker wanted the scores to be a supplement to his very detailed notes, this system was just too easy. It was just too good.

This became the standard. A score on wine defined its price, its popularity, and its reputation. Other publications like The Wine Spectator and eventually Wine Enthusiast applied scores as well. That’s what the game became. It was a score thing.

Today, scores are still very popular. They’re not the standard they once were, but they still have influence. I believe The Wine Advocate morphed into robertparker.com, which is his website. In 2012, he sold that entire website to a Singapore ex-wine merchant for $1.5 million. So he retired, but his idea never did. To this day, scores are still applied to wine, so we gotta talk about that. What does it mean when a score is applied to wine? How do you figure that out?

One of the cool reasons why scoring is not as popular as it once was is because these days we, the American drinking culture, are more interested in the stories behind the wines than we are about applying a calculated score to a wine. And tasting notes are also very important to us, but the language of tasting notes is a whole other thing. We go over that in previous episodes, of course, but there’s something nice about a point. It’s a number. It’s quick and easy to understand. It’s very shorthand. If you trust the person who’s giving the score, you trust the score. It’s also something that transcends all languages. It’s a number — everyone knows 93. Everyone knows what a 94 is, but no matter how calculated a point is supposed to be applied to wine, it’s a very arbitrary thing. How do you trust a score applied to a wine, knowing you’re to spend some money on wine? Every 100-point system is very similar, but every one is actually different from one another. Every system is created independently and designed for that particular publication or entity to get its message across.

At VinePair, we’ve actually created our own hundred-point scoring system with our own levels in tiers and how we think a hundred-point system should be applied to when we review wines. Being the tastings director of VinePair, I’m the one that does all the tasting and all the reviewing. Using that system that we developed helps me get my message across to you guys, based on how VinePair sees a certain wine.

That’s where the 100-point system exists today. It’s similar to a movie critic. When you want to see a movie, I don’t know about you, but I have certain movie or film critics that I like to read before I see a movie because I often agree with what they say. This is similar to the 100-point wine scoring system. You go to a wine shop, and you see a point, that point is given to that wine by somebody. If you’re familiar with that somebody, and you like the way that somebody talks about wine, you’re probably going to go ahead look at that number and choose to buy the bottle of wine based on that person’s wine score. If you see a number from another wine critic that you may not know, you may not get the wine or you may get it anyway, but not take into account the score. That is how it works these days, because wine is so much more than one point, but it’s a really good, quick reference point for you if you know who’s actually giving the point and agree with that person’s taste in wine.

Even though these numbers can seem a little bit arbitrary — and they are arbitrary and subjective because it is one person’s palate or a panel of palates making a decision on wine and a score — what’s really cool is every website has its own hundred-point system with its criteria so you can see why they’ve chosen what they’ve chosen. At VinePair, we have our 100-point system in categories and we have it all explained for you. If you look at a wine on VinePair that I reviewed and given a score to, you can go and look at that link to see why where it is in the scale of why I said what I said.

That’s a little bit of history, application, evolution, and where we are today with this 100-point wine scoring system. I don’t think it’s going to go anywhere for a very long time. Even though today, stories and backgrounds are so much more enjoyable today than just a cold, hard score, that score will always help us in a pinch if we trust the person giving the score.

@VinePairKeith is my Insta. Rate and review this podcast wherever you get your podcast from. It really helps get the word out there. And now for some totally awesome credits.

“Wine 101” was produced, recorded, and edited by yours truly, Keith Beavers, at the VinePair headquarters in New York City. I want to give a big ol’ shout-out to co-founders Adam Teeter and Josh Malin for creating VinePair. And I mean, a big shout-out to Danielle Grinberg, the art director of VinePair, for creating the most awesome logo for this podcast. Also, Darbi Cicci for the theme song. Listen to this. And I want to thank the entire VinePair staff for helping me learn something new every day. See you next week.

Ed. note: This episode has been edited for length and clarity.

The article Wine 101: The Points System appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/wine-101-points-system/

[sun-writer-blog]

The Story

AKA The 3 Days Mike saw Eleven and the One day he finally asked her out.

Also this was definitely inspired by that one time the cast sung together

I hope you enjoy! I’ve been working on his for a little bit and it sort of got away from me but oh well. Requests are still open, and all feedback is greatly appreciated!

Day One

    Each imperfection made her human. Imperfect, but uniquely beautiful.

    Mike shifted his headphones but didn’t quit scribbling in his composition book. He needed to get the ideas out of his head and onto paper before they were lost forever. He hadn’t written anything in a long time - something that a creative writing major had a lot of trouble explaining to his faculty advisor - and this morning at breakfast he had finally found some inspiration. It came in the form of a girl eating waffles alone.

    Quiet didn’t quite describe her well enough. There seemed to be a purpose in her quietness, as if she wanted to hide behind the background noise and blend into the crowd. Her eyes reminded him of a yule log burning in his mother’s fireplace and the smell of cinnamon at the Byers’ place during winter. He remembered how often authors wrote about winter negatively, and he imagined that they would have written about this girl in that way. But her coldness did not rebuke him. It was the coldness of snow gently falling and the entire forest taking a sigh after a long year of work.

    Mike was with his friends when he saw her. Lucas and Dustin were arguing about forming a band and who would play what instrument. They both wanted to play bass, and had already established that Mike would play drums. Will wanted nothing to do with the band because he didn’t want to sing in front of people, but Lucas insisted because he was the only one who could actually sing. Mike had checked out of the conversation about halfway through it, instead watching this girl as she moved through the ridiculously long lines of half-awake college students trying to get a meal after a weekend of partying. She seemed to be the only one fully conscious. Her movements were graceful, and Mike wondered if she had ever danced ballet. His sister Nancy had been in recitals when she was younger, and Mike wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy.

    Her gaze caught his as she was cutting into her waffle. Mike blinked and smiled sheepishly. The girl slammed her knife into the waffle while making direct eye contact, then smiled sarcastically.

    “What do you think, Mike?” Lucas questioned suddenly, bringing him back into the conversation.

    “Y-yeah. Let’s do it.”

    “Well that settles it, Mike was the tie breaker.”

    When Mike looked up again, she was gone. He left the cafeteria early and grabbed his brown book-bag hurriedly, nearly sprinting out of the building and towards his writing place. It was a tree in the nature park outside of the gates of his university - a place where lots of people went running. It was the kind of cold outside that hurt Mike’s bones when he pulled out his leather writing book and a purple pen. It was worth it to write this down.

    Every year the majors had to show that they were making progress towards a portfolio of their own work, and so far Mike had only a couple of random short stories and half-hearted poems. He enjoyed fantasy - from all of the days of playing Dungeons and Dragons with his friends as a kid - but he also enjoyed realism and romanticism. He had no idea how to blend all of these ideas, and the pressure and frustration had stopped him from writing anything new for weeks. All of those worries went away as he wrote.

    Now, he had a muse.

Day Two.

    When he gazed at the stars, she smiled at their beauty. When she smelled a rose, he breathed in its radiance.

    Her hair was such a deep brown that it appeared black. But Mike knew that black was the absence of color, and that didn’t properly capture this girl. He had seen her again when they were putting up posters for the band’s first performance on the quad in front of the College of Arts. Armed with a staple gun, Mike had just returned from showing a rough draft of his first story to his faculty advisor, who had complimented his work. It was a sci-fi story about a group of kids who were looking for their friend who had gone missing, but instead found a girl who had been kidnapped and experimented on by the government. “Keep working and flushing out the ideas,” his professor had written. “I would love to see where this goes.”

    That had been a week ago, and since then Mike’s nights were filled with music and creating costumes and thinking about that girl. He had asked Will about her - mostly because he knew that Will was the only one who wouldn’t make fun of him for asking about someone - and Will mentioned that her name was Jane and she was in his Abnormal Psychology class. He hadn’t seen her at breakfast since, and even if he did, Mike was sure he wouldn’t say hello to her. There were a million scenarios running through his head, but there weren’t any where he had the confidence to say hello. That’s why he wrote: to hide behind the pages of books.

    The hiding apparently didn’t work well enough, because when Mike went into the coffee shop by his dorm to put up some posters and maybe try and write for a bit someone tapped his shoulder. “You have a band?”

    Mike looked down and froze. It was her. She was wearing a black waitress’ apron and was armed with pen and notepad. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail but a single curl had fallen from her bangs. She tucked it behind her ear nonchalantly. He realized too slowly that he was staring and tried to play it off with a forced laugh. “Um, yeah! We’re called The Upside-Downs. I’m Mike.” He stuck out his hand to shake, and the waitress raised an eyebrow in hesitation. The corners of her lip turned up slightly as she greeted him in return.

    “I’m Eleven. And yes, that’s a nickname.” Mike hadn’t expected that, but somehow it fit her personality perfectly. An odd name, an odd number, for an odd girl. A prime number for someone completely unique. “Why that name?”

    Mike shrugged. “It was either that or The Party. Like, from D&D.”

“What’s D&D?” Mike must have looked hurt, because she started blushing and bit her lip nervously. “Should I know this?”

    “Dungeons and Dragons. It’s a role playing game. It’s so much fun, my friends and I played it all the time when we were younger. We started a club on campus. You should come.”

    Eleven smiled sweetly and pointed at the posters in Mike’s hand. “Aren’t you supposed to be trying to get me to go to your concert, not your club?”

    “Oh! Yeah, you should definitely come to that, too.”

    “Oh really? Why’s that?”

    “Well, if you go, I’ll make sure to dedicate a song to you. Promise.”

    The girl seemed to think that over for a moment, a pleased look on her face. “You got yourself a deal, Mike.” She started to walk away, and with his heart beating in his chest Mike called out to her.

    “What are you doing tonight?”

    She turned around and gestured to the shop. “Working, why?”

    Mike hesitated for a moment, and it was just long enough for him to back out of doing something he really wanted to do. Instead, he smiled and waved like he did the first time he saw her. “Nothing. I’ll see you at the concert, El.” She smiled and raised an eyebrow at him, and he could have sworn she let out a little sigh as he left the coffee shop.

    He went straight home to write all night. He never wanted to forget the way her voice sounded: like the quiet rushing of waves on a beach.

Day Three

    I don’t think I decided her happiness was more important than mine. It was decided on my behalf, by a judge who obviously knew it was the most severe sentence.

    The concert was that Saturday night. The previous day, The Upside-Downs had spent hours practicing together. They were just going to do covers to some popular songs since this was their first performance, but Will wanted to make sure everything was absolutely perfect. Classic Will Byers, the perfectionist. Lucas had finally decided he wanted to be the guitar player, which left Dustin as the bass guitarist. Mike had calluses from playing the drums so long, but Will was a cruel master and demanded they run through each song five times before the day was over. Each time, Mike focused a little more on the lyrics. He wondered which one he should dedicate to Eleven.

    They set up on the small stage on the quad, but not without drawing the attention of everyone on campus. They were dressed in costumes of their D&D characters, which was apparently the tie-breaker that Mike had decided on. “You sure we shouldn’t abort mission?” Dustin whispered as they carried their instruments out into the cold October air.

    “No way, man. This is our thing” Lucas reassured. “Trust me.”

    The drums took the longest amount of time, but soon they got that set up and a small crowd showed up to hear what they had to offer. Mike searched through the faces, but there was no sign of his muse anywhere. Maybe she wouldn’t come. He wasn’t sure if that made him relieved or more nervous.

    Then it was 9:00 and it was time to start. “Good evening! We’re The Upside-Downs and you’re in for an adventure tonight!” Dustin called out to the crowd. They had all agreed that Dustin was the best at introducing the band because, unlike Will or Mike, he wasn’t shy at all. “My name is Dustin, and i’m your warrior. Will the Wise is your singer tonight, and we have Lucas your ranger and guitarist. And last but not least, give it up for our Dungeon Master Mike on drums!” There was obligatory clapping, and Mike adjusted himself in his seat. This would be a long night if they didn’t like the music. “Let’s do it.”

    The first song they played was “Rocket Man” by Elton John. It was a great ice breaker, because it proved that Will Byers could sing his heart out as well as play the keyboard. It started off quiet, but by the chorus Will had really found his confidence. It wasn’t very drum heavy, which was fine by Mike. He was too busy searching the crowd for a glimpse of Eleven, but there wasn’t any sign of her. He was glad for the next song, because Queen was one of his favorite bands and he could actually invest himself in “Don’t stop me now”. Mike thought about music a lot like writing a story. It took you on a journey, a little adventure away from reality for a moment. He loved that about it. Lucas finally got a chance to show his skills in the guitar solo and Mike had to admit, Lucas was great.

    Now the crowd was getting pumped up, and The Upside-Downs  switched to play “Livin on a Prayer” by Bon Jovi. This is when Dustin came most alive because he was the guy who got all of the synth-sounds to work. He had run all of the controls to a black box and pedal by his foot. He nearly stomped on it. The crowd went crazy on this song, especially when Dustin, Will, and Lucas all joined together to sing. After this song everything was quiet, and it was time for the “compromise” song. Since Dustin couldn’t play guitar, he got to choose one song all by himself. He chose “Carry on Wayward Son” specifically so that Lucas would have a hard time and Dustin would have to ditch his bass to grab an extra guitar. The group wasn’t sure they could pull it off. Will brought his keyboard and microphone over to where Mike was playing the drums and gave him a worried look as they began.

    The crowd loved it. Lucas and Dustin had their own little performance in the front of the stage with dueling guitars. After the initial guitar session, Dustin grabbed his bass back from a stand, and proceeded to switch back and forth throughout the rest of the song. Will even had a little solo with his keyboard, and Mike was glad that they had practiced over and over again.

    Then it was the final song, and Mike let out a shaky breath as Dustin introduced it. “Now this one is for someone special that our drummer has been talking to. It’s called ‘Every Breath You Take’, and we promise it’s not creepy.” The crowd laughed a bit - the song had been number one on every chart when they were kids, and everyone knew it. But it wasn’t until someone locked eyes with him that he felt the song was the right choice.

Day 4

    Every moment with you lasted forever, and those forevers passed by like the wind through autumn leaves.

    “Morning, Rockstar. What would you like to drink?”

    Mike laughed. In the few days since the concert he hadn’t seen Eleven, and she had left right after the final song had played. He had gone to the coffee shop on a whim, holding a stack of papers helped together by three paper clips. It was a decently long manuscript - the first one he had produced for his portfolio. In purple pen he had written across the top “For El.” He handed her the copy and smiled. “Nothing right now, thanks.”

    Her hair was down and in curls, and Mike wondered if the universe wanted to distract him on purpose. She looked down on the papers. “What’s this?”

    “It’s something I’ve been working on for a while. Talking to you gave me some inspiration, so I thought i should give this to you.”

    El blushed a little and twirled her pen in her hands. “Is that why you were staring at me at breakfast?” Mike’s face flushed, but before he opened his mouth she laughed. “Don’t worry. I thought it was cute.”

    Cute. She said cute. And now she was biting her lip and still twirling her pen. “What time do you get off work?”

    “7 tonight. Why?”

    “I have to teach you Dungeons and Dragons. You can’t go on not knowing what it is.”

    Eleven considered that for a moment, and with a soft smile she agreed.  

[thenovl]

Cover Reveal: Love & Other Carnivorous Plants

Get ready for a heartbreaking yet hilarious tale of something we’re all too familiar with—that moment between adolescence and the uncertainty of the future. But we are certain of one thing: you’ll eat Florence Gonsalves’s Love & Other Carnivorous Plants right up.

Here’s what it’s all about:

A darkly funny debut for fans of Becky Albertalli, Matthew Quick, and Ned Vizzini about a nineteen-year-old girl who's consumed by love, grief, and the many-tentacled beast of self-destructive behavior.

Freshman year at Harvard was the most anticlimactic year of Danny's life. She's failing pre-med and drifting apart from her best friend. One by one, Danny is losing all the underpinnings of her identity. When she finds herself attracted to an older, edgy girl who she met in rehab for an eating disorder, she finally feels like she might be finding a new sense of self. But when tragedy strikes, her self-destructive tendencies come back to haunt her as she struggles to discover who that self really is. With a starkly memorable voice that's at turns hilarious and heartbreaking, Love and Other Carnivorous Plants brilliantly captures the painful turning point between an adolescence that's slipping away and the overwhelming uncertainty of the future.

Okay, wow. This all sounds amazing, but the cover makes it even better. Are you ready? Here it is:

We asked the designer, Karina, a few questions about the cover and the process behind it, because, well, it’s face it, not just anyone can design an awesome book cover.

How do you start the design process?

Ideally the design process starts with reading the book. And in the case of Love & Other Carnivorous Plants, we had the manuscript early on, which gave me lots of time to enjoy the read, really get to know the characters and the themes, as well as search for any good symbols or imagery. We had a head start with this one in terms of imagery. A venus fly trap made sense with the title and felt like a natural pairing. However, there are a surprising large number of ways you can go about putting a Venus fly trap on the cover (more on that in a bit!). So after I read the book, I like to meet with the editor since they really have the deepest understanding of the story and the author. One of the first questions I like to ask is, "What other books is it like? Where does it sit in the bookstore?” And then, the most important question, "What is it that they find special about the book? What do we want readers to know, feel, think about the story?" I share my thoughts, but I mostly like to really listen for their thoughts. Humor and Danny’s voice came up right away in this case! With the answers to these questions, I start to play! It’s not a standardized process at all. Every book leads me through it’s own journey. I look for inspiration in ads, magazines, fashion, Instagram, blogs, Etsy, colleagues’s work, everywhere! Then I manipulate photos or stock art, look for fonts, download illustrator portfolios, doodle, paint, draw until I have a bunch of options to share with the team. 

What were some of your other ideas for this cover? How did you come to a final decision?

Real-life venus fly traps and other carnivorous plants (!) are so cool! So one thought was to use a photograph. I shared a photographic option where a bee was caught in venus fly trap, which made sense since characters in the book feel trapped in their current lives. I also found a photograph light shone through the venus fly trap and you could see the shadow of a just-eaten bug inside, so I thought, what if we replace the big with the shadow of a heart, and it could look really beautiful and devastating in photographic form. And then there were some just gorgeous close-up photos of  venus fly traps in vivid colors which I overlaid with large, hand-lettered type. However, one of things that I think makes this book a stand-out read is that it has not only a great balance between beauty and devastation, but it also has a tremendous sense of humor. Ultimately we, as a team, felt that this illustrated version of the cover not only had the most originality and impact, but it also captured the overall tone of the book best. 

The saying goes, “never judge a book by its cover,” but we all know we do. What do you think is the most important aspect of a book cover?

I really feel like there is no one, singular, perfect cover for any book. So I don’t get overly concerned as to whether the final cover ends up being photographic, illustrated, that sort of thing. As can be seen when classic stories get repackaged, there is often more than one brilliant way to tackle the package of a book. So my biggest concern as we make final decisions is, “Does this cover feel like the book? Does is set the stage for the reader that feels accurate and true to the story?” Ultimately the purpose of the cover is to lead readers to the books they will love, so they need to be reflective of their respective stories. And then my next big concern, and this is really what differentiates a good cover from a great cover, is “What is different about this cover? What makes it stand out from the other books on the shelf?” There are a lot of illustrated YA books currently, but my hope is people will pick up Love & Other Carnivorous Plants because the cover is funny! And that it will accurately conveys that these characters are navigating messy, tough topics (such as love and sexuality and heartbreak) with a sense of humor, and a little bit of sarcasm and irreverence, that I think will feel very relatable and refreshing to the reader. 

Why did you choose these particular elements for the cover, such as the typeface or the colors?

In doing research for the cover, I came across some photographs of very brightly lit venus fly traps, and they looked almost neon pink and green. I thought they were just so fresh and cool and vibrant, like the characters in the book, that it felt like a natural color scheme for the final design. Dani keeps a journal, and there are several instances of hand-written notes and letters in the book, so I wanted to bring those elements of the story to the cover through the hand-done feel to the type, as well as through the paper texture underneath. Inspiration really did come form here and there, but I think we ended up with a good balance of elements that conveyed different aspects of the story.

Thanks, Karina! This really gave us some insight into the wonderful creative process that cover design is.

We can’t wait for this book, and we hope you feel the same way. It comes out May 15, 2018. In the meantime, add Love & Other Carnivorous Plants to your Goodreads shelf, and follow #LoveCarnivorousPlants for more news about it!

[checanty]

HELLO this might be a little personal so if you don't want to answer this question I completly understand. I was wondering how you deal with your (art)-anxiety (you know the thing: self critisism and knocking yourself down all the time, being scared shitless about the future because life is getting real now). Do you have some tips or thoughts? X

Alright. So this is a big topic. It’s not always easy to tell since we tend to make sure to project our best self via social media, but anxiety and self doubts are not especially rare with artists including the ones you think have *made it*.  However, while I can talk about how I personally deal with anxiety, we all feel differently and not everything that works for me will work for you. Take what’s useful to you and leave the rest here. I’m just a silly 23 year old spewing nonsense into the void.

Also, if you struggle and feel like you need help, please do the scary thing and reach out to somebody you trust and/or talk to a mental health professional.

And obviously this is not a complete list because I have come to the realization that at the pace I’m writing we’ll be old and grey by the time I’m done.

Anyways here we go …

I. Assorted things

a. First, it helps to acknowledge that imposter syndrome, the fraud police or however you want to call it is a thing. Once I identify that nagging little voice for what it is, I can call it out on its bullshit. Sometimes it just haunts me in the back of my mind and I actively formulate the negative thought out in an ‘Ah yes, I’m a lazy little shit, that will never be good enough. That what you wanted to tell me, brain? Well, you gotta come up with something new because I know this trick and it’s not true.’ fashion. It helps me to recognize the pattern, pull it out into the open and then reject it. It’s easier than having my head buzzing with negative fragmented ideas that can continue to fester until I can’t deal with them anymore.

b. Trust others. When a person says they like your work? Trust that they do. Don’t draw the conclusion they’ll be your über-fan and throw money at you or that they’re an art critic guru, but take them by their word. That person likes your work and that’s awesome! (Obviously my grandmother predicting me to become a great artist won’t mean it’s true, but I believe she means it.)Also, somebody hires you for a job and it’s super scary and you feel like your going to fail? Trust the person who has hired you. They’ve seen your portfolio, they pay you (make sure they do), they believe you can do it. They’re not stupid.

c. When you’re sitting in your pajamas surfing the internet, eating cereals with a fork trying to eat away your felt 3000 failed drawings (But you’re lazy, so really you only drew like 5 things, but they’re so bad the failure counts for more.) of the day it’s hard to believe you can ever be as pro as those glorious drawing machines on the internet with their polished websites and portfolios who make it look so easy.

Now imagine stumbling upon yourself on the internet. What do you see?Your latest cool artwork, your work ethic (even if you really just queue your posts cleverly) … And this is just your online presentation. Think about the artwork. You know your stuff. You see it all the time. You know all the frustrating bits and problem areas. You know what parts you’re just winging or obscuring by drawing decorative ornamental elements on them and pretend it’s your style. Other people don’t. (They might if you tell them. So try not to be too negative about your work.) Try to see your work with their eyes. Design a book cover mock up with your artwork (or whatever is applicable to the area you want to work in) and imagine it’s by somebody else and you just stumbled upon it in a book shop. You might realize it’s actually kind of okay …You might actually start to really like some of your works. (or all of it.)

d. Trust in the fact that drawing is a skill that is constantly developing. Even if you’re not at the level you need or want to be at, as long as you practice and keep at it you’ll eventually get there. It’s a process. It might be a really slow one. But there’s just one direction to go and you have time. You do. Even when other people your age (or younger) seem to have made it (whatever that means), it’s frustrating, alright. Have a cry, that’s ok. Get back to the drawing table. You’re on different paths. Stay off the internet for a while if comparisonitis gets too bad. There’ll always be people who are better than you. Focus on your work. (My drawing teacher’s advice on this was: Get inspired, not frustrated. Which is easier said than done.)

e. Learn a new skill that has nothing to do with your art, simply for the joy of learning it and then fail a lot. It’s a lot easier to learn being accepting of your mistakes and failures this way. It’s much easier to learn when nobody judges you (grades you. Makes you take tests.). I’ve started yoga and learning a new language last year and I am still bad at both, but whenever I mess up my vocabulary or can’t do a pose it’s … okay. Nothing bad happens. And it’s lots of fun. The failing. The times when things do work. It’s easier to realize a mistake isn’t the end of it all when you practice with something that doesn’t already come with all the old pressures and expectations.

f. Get your sleep. No screens before bed time, seriously. Those are an invitation for insomnia. Try to keep a regular sleep schedule. I sound so boring with my whole scheduling habit, but it helps a lot.

g. Find a way to release stress. Do something besides work. When I find it hard to allow myself to do non work related things I tell myself being good at what I’m doing or being successful early on doesn’t actually mean much when it means I’m burned out by 24 and dead by 27. It’s really hard to follow your passion when you constantly fantasize about running away to hide somewhere in a forest cave living only on dirt and roots until you eventually poison yourself or freeze to death.

What also helped me to stop feeling like I’m not working enough was using a timer so I could show myself by the end of the week how much I have gotten done.Also using a schedule. And sticking (at least roughly) to it.(Although it takes a lot of trial and error to figure out how to best put your schedule together. It’s important to be aware of how you’re feeling and to be able to make some changes to accommodate your needs. Don’t start out by assuming you’re always your best and most productive self. Are you doing something that will probably exhaust you? Factor that in. Figure out how much you can actually effectively work. Buffer days in case you have deadlines. You might get sick or have a bad art day. Time off for regeneration. Don’t do the ‘I work best under pressure a day before the deadline’ thing if you can help it.)

h. Realizing you got time and you don’t actually have to be a fully functional amazing, successful artist person by, like, tomorrow. You don’t. You take the time you need. You make sure you’re okay first. Figuring out what exactly is important to you and what you really want to be and do takes time. It takes going down the wrong path sometimes. I started out wanting to be a comic artist, but ended up doing creepy dark fantasy illustrations. Now I’m realizing that this is not everything I want to do. It’s a process and nothing you do is in vain, but things take time.

(–> Goal setting on the other hand is a great way to succeed at something, but you have to know what you want first. Of course you can set a goal and realize on the way that you have no interest in reaching it anymore. I guess then it depends on what your goal is whether you want to continue or change course. E.g. I’d finish that big project you’ve been working on for years, but maybe stop trying to get that job you actually don’t want anymore.)

In a similar vein … Learning to be patient with oneself. Patience is always good.

II. The future is scary and I don’t know what to do

a. Research first! The monster is way less scary when you can see it clearly. Only once you know how it looks like you can plan on how to slay it. (It might not even be a perfect plan, it just has to be good enough to make you feel like things might turn out okay.)Hit the internet, read a lot. Learn what you can. See how other people do it. Ask questions. Try to find out where your crowd hangs out. My personal advice is to be a bit careful with those 10 ways to be a successful artist articles depending on how in depth they are. I either find them not especially informative or they’re a great way for me to spend the rest of the day crying (even and especially when they’re supposed to be motivational. There’s so much motivational stuff out there that really just makes me feel super insecure.) because after reading them I’m pretty sure I don’t do any of those things and am a horrible person anyways. Articles dealing with matters in a more nuanced manner might often be more to read, but have been way more helpful to me.

Some resources that help(ed) me a lot (consider I’m mostly doing fantasy art, so it might not all be for you):

http://muddycolors.blogspot.deAmazing artists and art directors sharing insights. There’s a lot. Maybe matching this ask’s subject:

Arrogance & Doubt

How to get what you want

The secret to success in art

@dearartdirector here on tumblr. Make sure to check out their prior asks&answers before sending them your questions. There’s already a lot of important stuff in there.

Bobby Chiu’s Youtube Channel1FantasticWeek Podcast (& Facebook Group)Drawn&Drafted

Giuseppe Castellano’s Blog and #arttips on Twitter

For children’s books: find the hashtag #kidlitart on Twitter

Otherwise try to find blogs and podcasts about what you want to do.

III. Everything is too much and I can’t manage or think or …

a. Sometimes things just get too much and I put everything on hold and write through it. I think faster than I can write, so putting thoughts to paper slows me down. I also see the stuff in my head written out and it is easier to confront it and recognize what actually makes sense and what doesn’t. The process is obviously different every time, but basically I try to boil down what upsets me and then find ways to deal with it conversation style. (I usually even include the bits where I don’t know what to say and then write exactly that down.)For example I’ve written  myself through some phone call anxiety last year by listing what I am actually afraid of and why it makes me feel insecure and then writing down what I know to be actually true.

The last part looked somewhat like this: You’re safe. You’re sitting in your room on the floor and there is nobody around. Nothing can happen to you. You are physically safe.It is their job to help you. If you don’t know something, they will help you.  If they are mean it is not on you. They might have had a shitty day. Also, they don’t know you and their opinion on you has no influence on your life. They talk to a lot of people in a day and will probably forget you. You are not important enough to ruin somebody’s day. If they make fun of you at home it has no influence on your life.Just be as polite as you can be and you have nothing to feel bad about.

And so on.

Most negative thoughts are similar. e. g. ‘I’ll never achieve anything.’ vs writing down successes (as small as they might be): I’ve been able to feed myself for a week. I can speak a second language. I survived school. I’m keeping my rats alive. I know myself better today than I did last year.

When I feel like I’m dancing on too many parties and feel like I am constantly forgetting something or feel just vaguely haunted I try to figure out what the immediate issues that freak me out are. Being as specific as possible. Being as honest as possible. It’s not like anybody has to see what I’m writing. This is not just about art. It’s about everything, even and especially the petty little things. If you gather enough of those they can be crushing. Once they’re all written down I can decide which have priority and which I can put aside. The important part is to make a conscious decision (really, decision making. Sometimes stressing about making a decision is worse than making the wrong choice.). I don’t have to answer my friend’s Facebook message today, I can just tell them I’m currently stressed out and will get back to them at some later point. Or let them wait for a day or two. They’ll survive. I can simply say no to this or that thing. I can totally schedule this thing to next week and not think about it until then. (Actually write down when you’ll do it, though. Everything you write down you don’t have to keep juggling in your head.)

Then I write down possible solutions for what is still left. Afterwards I figure out which ones I can implement and which one’s I cannot (for whatever reason.). What can I do right now? (Starting with the easiest fixes. That might be doing the dishes that have piled up over time.) What can I schedule? I need to have plan of action* for every problem on my list. Sometimes it doesn’t mean I’ll solve it, but at least I’ll feel like I’ve done everything I currently feel capable of doing.

* Those may be suuuuper small steps. Or maybe even acknowledging it scares me, but accepting that it is something I cannot influence and therefore something that just goes into my calendar and out of my brain. It’s a lot about planning and scheduling for me.

b. I use a friend of mine and my  mum for reality checks sometimes when my brain gets stuck on something totally irrational and I need somebody to explain to me why I don’t make sense.

(I also use my friend when I’m not sure whether I’m interpreting a message or social situation correctly. Good to have a second opinion when your paranoid brain sees cryptic messages and overt criticism everywhere.)

c. When I feel I’m about to freak out and can’t sit down to write or think something through I have a book lying around that I can grab and read aloud until I calm down. I like Jack Kerouac for this because I don’t have to try and understand what is going on. It’s just a stream of pretty words and sound.

[theinvinciblenoob]

I admit I was a little reluctant to try this pack out, but in the end it was my favorite of the Chrome bags I tested for TechCrunch Bag Week 2018, perhaps not coincidentally, one of the least Chrome-like. If you’re familiar with Chrome’s bike messenger bag roots, the Pace feels like an abrupt departure, but it’s one you might fall in love with.

Wearing the Pace just feels…. fun? I don’t really know another way to describe it. For one, you can wear it as a tote bag or as a backpack and that is surprisingly liberating.

Plenty of bags, including Chrome’s oversized, industrial-strength packs, feel a bit like readying for a battle when you put them on. With a big pack on, you are no longer a person just shopping for groceries or going to the bookstore, you’re a person with a very serious backpack who is also doing those things. Maybe you’re some kind of hardcore bike person. And whether you are or not, wearing a huge backpack around town can just look like you take yourself very seriously.

The Pace is the opposite of that, while still managing that efficient, industrial thing that Chrome does so well. At 18L, it’s like you barely remembered to grab a bag at all, but here you are with a practical way (two ways!) to carry just the essentials. At first glance, the Pace looks tiny, but for me it comfortably fit a laptop, a 16oz water bottle, various pens, a book, my phone, charging cables and assorted other stuff I compulsively drag around every single day just in case because my anxiety medicine doesn’t work all the way.

Photo via Chrome Industries

The Pace, like the MXD Fathom, its less convertible twin, is tough black pack made from 1680d ballistic nylon and seatbelt-style webbing. The pack has a tote-style top-loading interior that zips up (why don’t all totes zip up?) and two stowaway backpack straps hidden behind a zipper on the back.

The Pace’s two external pockets are super thoughtful and great for a phone and sunglasses and keys or whatever other instant access stuff you need. From my experience, you need to be mindful about making sure those particular zippers are closed all the way around because it’s easy to leave them a little open. The zippers all felt great, though the main top zipper, which I didn’t even close most of the time because i’m living that #hybridbaglife, did snag on the material under it sometimes. It wasn’t hard to get loose, but still worth mentioning since it happened two or three times over five days or so of regular use.

My cat was inexplicably obsessed with the Pace. TechCrunch/Taylor Hatmaker

One complaint I had because I did get so comfortable carrying this pack around is that an optional sternum strap would be nice, even if it’d harsh the vibe a little. The pack is super comfy somehow, in spite of its relative lack of structure, but did slide out toward my shoulders occasionally. This might be because most Chrome stuff is designed for broad dudes doing broad dude stuff, but on the whole the Pace felt like one of the least big dude-centric designs that I’ve ever seen from the company. The Pace’s ability to casually transform into a sturdy little tote bag should be a selling point for women and other smaller-bodied folks who aren’t built like tree trunks.

TechCrunch/Taylor Hatmaker

Aside from carrying my laptop around (one complaint: no padding on the bottom of the laptop sleeve), I mostly used the Pace to haul a small assortment of stuff back and forth at a weeklong event and it performed well all around. I also managed to take it on a short, steep hike and it did just fine, though it’s such a breeze to carry I actually didn’t notice that I wasn’t wearing it, left it at the top of the hike and had to re-hike back up there to get it. It must have been pretty comfortable because forgetting my pack is not a thing that happens to me.

I’m usually a rigid-backed pack person but I actually liked how unstructured this bag is. One night I went out to cover an event and was surprised to realize that the Pace carried my Sony A7S II and a change of lens just fine, distributing its weight and carrying it so well I forgot it was in there. I’m not sure what kind of dark tote bag magic is to thank here, but usually carrying any kind of camera in a non-camera bag makes for an awkward, lumpy experience.

What else? The Pace has some great internal organization pockets, though a few felt redundant enough that I couldn’t ever remember where I’d put my chapstick or my notebook or whatever I was reaching for at the moment, leading me to check the non-mesh internal pocket, the main internal compartment, the outside zippered area and the zip area that the straps tuck back into, which was convenient enough that I accidentally stuck stuff in there a lot.

She’s still doing it. TechCrunch/Taylor Hatmaker

I liked the Pace enough that I’d consider picking up the Fathom just to see what it feels like. There’s something special about this design. The Pace is a clever, lighthearted bag and it genuinely feels fun to carry. If that sounds dumb, then get the hell out of here, why are you reading bag reviews instead of checking your altcoin portfolio or whatever?

The Pace is an excellent casual city bag for when you want to run out the door to do something fun and carefree and mildly edgy, but you don’t want to look too prepared or like you brought your laptop even though you totally did. Like you’re showing up to a music video shoot that you’re not cast in or just want to look casual lowkey famous at brunch. Or like sleeping over at a date’s house but looking like you are playing it very cool and not carrying a change of clothes, a toothbrush and your Kindle. It’s unassuming and cool and might just be my new everyday pack.

What it is: A small tote/backpack hybrid that is very cool and not dorky.

What is isn’t: Capable of hauling many massive, heavy things. Run-of-the-mill.

Read more reviews from TechCrunch Bag Week 2018 here.

Bag Week 2018: Chrome’s Vega Transit Brief makes your work vibe less uncool

Bag Week 2018: Chrome’s BLCKCHRM Bravo 2.0 backpack is a burly, stylish beast

via TechCrunch

[austinfortney-blog]

MPV Blood Stream Exam Info And Exactly How Way Platelet Quantity Levels Can Assist Identify Bone.

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[jpweb12]

20 Examples of Creative Graphic Designers’ Resumes

We all know the creative industry is a special one, characterized by more competitiveness than any other industry. Especially since the use of the Internet has broken down the geographic boundaries, making possible the collaboration between the customers and the designers worldwide. But with so many creative graphic designers around the world, just getting noticed is extremely difficult, not to mention getting customers – if you work as freelancer – or being hired – if you want to work in a company.

Just having a brilliant portfolio is not enough anymore to stand apart from your competitors. You need something extra, in order to get the full attention of your potential customers or employers. Therefore, the designers around the world have found and have been coming up with unusual and creative resumes to stand out of the crowd and gain an edge in the hunt for getting hired.

We searched around the internet and compiled for you twenty great examples of graphic designers’ creative resumes you can get inspiration from, and that will help you to reinvent your resume.  

1. Livia Natalie

  Livia Natalie (www.behance.net/livianatalie) is an Indonesian multimedia graphic designer, with expertise in branding, illustration, motion graphic, and UI/UX. Maybe for some people an animated CV could be a little bit risky proposition, but she really did a great job with her resume. It’s funny, playful, beautiful animated and it covers all the essential points the employers need to know about her. And the best part is that it takes just one minute to see it, making him more likely for people to go through the whole thing.  

2. Benjamin Benhaim

Benjamin Benhaim (www.behance.net/benjamin-benhaim) is a Paris-based art director and motion designer whose resume was inspired by the Jimmy Raheriarisoa’s flat CV. Being created using Cinema 4D, Octane and After Effects, this resume covers all his bases skills and has a plenty of playful touches. Not just the renderings, but also the combination of bright, light and lambent colors are the elements that draw the viewers’ eyes and makes them look for more.        

3. Robby Leonardi

Robby Leonardi (www.rleonardi.com/interactive-resume) is a New-York based multidisciplinary designer. Specialized in graphic design, illustration, animation and front-end development, he worked for companies like Fox, Speed TV, FX Networks, myNetworkTV, and G4 and won multiple awards. His incredibly funny and interactive resume definitely draws the attention not just of the potential customer and employers, but also shows his incredible talent and creativity. It’s a real pleasure to keep scrolling it over and over again!

4. Vincenzo Castro

    Vincenzo Castro (www.behance.net/vincenzocastro) is a young Italian graphic designer based in Milan, whose work is focused mostly on user interface, digital art and illustration. His schematic CV looks clean and simple, almost like and assembly sketch and highlights all his basis skills.        

5. João Martins

  Look at this creative resume! João Martins (www.behance.net/joaocrmartins) is a young Portuguese graphic designer based in Lisbon, who focuses on graphic design, motion design in television and User Interface design! His resume is absolutely visual. By combining photography and graphics, the CV not just highlights his skills, experience and the strengths of the designer, but also makes anyone wanting to keep reading.

6. Evelin Callens

(www.behance.net/EvelienCallens) is a Belgian graphic designer and illustrator. Her love for minimalism and geometric shapes is also highlighted by her resume. She keeps things short and nice with a clear design. Evelien has chosen to use a mint-moss green color that works very well with the organization of the information from her resume and her title branding. Also, the origami elements added here bring an interesting dimension and personality to Evelien’s resume.   

  7. Alysa Choudri

Things almost get crazy with this extremely creative and psychedelic Alysa Choudri’s (http://alysachoudri.tumblr.com/ ) resume. If you take a closer look, she managed to give a lot of information without being boring and cramped. Graphic designer, photographer and illustrator, Alysa loves colors and uses them to add a new dimension to her resume.

  8. Chuck Lay

    You might think this is an add page from an old newspaper, right? Well, no! It’s Chuck Lay’s (http://chuckdlay.deviantart.com) resume, a Dallas-based graphic designer. A lot of his inspiration comes mostly from the comic books and you can see this not just in his work, but also in his CV. And as the vintage design is one of the hottest trends for 2017, Chuck Lay’s resume for sure draws the eyes and stands out from the crowd.   

  9. Zhiyang Lim

  Zhiyang Lim (www.behance.net/limzhiyang) is a Singapore-based designer and front-end developer who always tries to think outside of the box. Believing the design can transform the world, Zhiyang has chosen a creative, playful and colorful version for his CV. Based on the concept of his working place, the resume has a cartoon-like design. Even if there are almost 15 design elements there, you can still say a lot about his experience and skills. This is a great example of the expression “an image worth more than 100 words” and of how you can tell a story without actually saying anything.

10.Steve Fraschini

With this resume, Steve Fraschini (https://dribbble.com/novagraphix) – graphic designer based in Paris – proved that the classic black & white still play the game in the design world and can win it. With a simple and clean design, having the information very well organized and some design elements that draw your eyes to every section, this resume is a good option for those who love the minimalism and classic.

  11. Eric Ghandi

This smart and creative resume was created by Eric Ghandi (www.ericgandhi.com). Starting from the belief that simplicity is the ultimate sophistication, his CV just shows us this. It’s simple and it’s brilliant! Nothing more than a couple of Google fonts, Google logo, a great idea and a lot of creativity!

  12. Kelly Weihs

Kelly Weihs’s (www.behance.net/KellyWeihs) resume stands out from the crowd thanks to its vintage and western style design. Starting from the idea of creating a CV that is different from everyone else and loving the historically inspired designs, Kelly had a lot of fun while designing this resume. And she did a very good job!

13. Omondi Abudho

Omondi Abudho (www.behance.net/pixcaliba) is a Kenyan art director and photographer, based in Nairobi. Picking up a bit of attention for his resume, Abudho has designed his CV as an unfolded box. So, if they want, all the potential employers can cut it out and following the die, can fold it into a box, completed with the creative “nutrition” facts.

14. Amber Van Mieghem

Amber Van Mieghem (www.behance.net/amberlink) is a young Belgium graphic designer. Named “Take a look inside”, her resume is creative and compact. Designed as a flyer and playing interesting with the folding lines and shapes, Amber’s CV is reveals all what a customer or employer needs to know about her skills and experience.  

15. Ada Napiorkowski

Ada Napoirkowski (www.behance.net/napiorkowski) is art director and illustrator based in Heidelberg, Germany.   Instead of designing just a resume, she created a whole self-promotion pack, in order to respond to her style and personality. And do you know what is the best part? It’s all hand-made and printed using a normal domestic printer.

16. Kevin Fernandez

Kevin Fernandez (http://nikond50.deviantart.com/) is photographer and designer based in Santa Clara, California. Fernandez used his skills also for creating his own resume. The bright colors, shades of purple, the typography and the contrast used exactly where it’s necessary to work incredibly well together, creating an eye-catching resume!

17. Ed Hamilton

  Ed Hamilton is a London-based designer and copywriter who developed a creative way to stand out to prospective employers. Using Google Maps’ My Maps feature, Hamilton mapped his resume using different colored pins in order to create personalized placemarks. Each pin has an explanatory text, including information about the place he lives, his interests and work experience.

  18. Michael Anderson

  Michael Anderson’s (www.flickr.com/people/lunyboy/?rb=1) resume was born from an epiphany. As he realized suddenly a resume is just tagged temporal data, he decided to treat it as such, in order to convey much more information. His resume is creative and colorful, bringing the standard display of data to another level. Even if Michael is now working in his family’s business, his resume still draws a lot of attention online.

  19. Chen Zhi Liang

Chen Zhi Liang (www.behance.net/zhiliang) is a young designer based in Singapore. He accepted the challenge of his graphic design tutor to create an inventive resume that would make him to stand apart from the competition. So, he decided to go minimalist and designed this creative infographic resume in which he says a lot without using practically to many words. Just graphics. And he did a very good job.  

  20. Scott Duffey

  The British designer Scott Duffey (http://www.scottduffey.com) created this work place scene in order to use it as resume in the back of his portfolio. “I wanted to end my portfolio in a way that would leave an impression,” explains . “I wanted to be remembered by my interviewer, so I needed to deliver key information whilst also giving a feel of my personality.”

    Read More at 20 Examples of Creative Graphic Designers’ Resumes

from IT Feed https://webdesignledger.com/20-examples-creative-graphic-designers-resumes/

[regulardomainname]

20 Examples of Creative Graphic Designers’ Resumes

We all know the creative industry is a special one, characterized by more competitiveness than any other industry. Especially since the use of the Internet has broken down the geographic boundaries, making possible the collaboration between the customers and the designers worldwide. But with so many creative graphic designers around the world, just getting noticed is extremely difficult, not to mention getting customers – if you work as freelancer – or being hired – if you want to work in a company. Just having a brilliant portfolio is not enough anymore to stand apart from your competitors. You need something extra, in order to get the full attention of your potential customers or employers. Therefore, the designers around the world have found and have been coming up with unusual and creative resumes to stand out of the crowd and gain an edge in the hunt for getting hired. We searched around the internet and compiled for you twenty great examples of graphic designers’ creative resumes you can get inspiration from, and that will help you to reinvent your resume.   1. Livia Natalie   Livia Natalie (www.behance.net/livianatalie) is an Indonesian multimedia graphic designer, with expertise in branding, illustration, motion graphic, and UI/UX. Maybe for some people an animated CV could be a little bit risky proposition, but she really did a great job with her resume. It’s funny, playful, beautiful animated and it covers all the essential points the employers need to know about her. And the best part is that it takes just one minute to see it, making him more likely for people to go through the whole thing.   2. Benjamin Benhaim Benjamin Benhaim (www.behance.net/benjamin-benhaim) is a Paris-based art director and motion designer whose resume was inspired by the Jimmy Raheriarisoa’s flat CV. Being created using Cinema 4D, Octane and After Effects, this resume covers all his bases skills and has a plenty of playful touches. Not just the renderings, but also the combination of bright, light and lambent colors are the elements that draw the viewers’ eyes and makes them look for more.         3. Robby Leonardi Robby Leonardi (www.rleonardi.com/interactive-resume) is a New-York based multidisciplinary designer. Specialized in graphic design, illustration, animation and front-end development, he worked for companies like Fox, Speed TV, FX Networks, myNetworkTV, and G4 and won multiple awards. His incredibly funny and interactive resume definitely draws the attention not just of the potential customer and employers, but also shows his incredible talent and creativity. It’s a real pleasure to keep scrolling it over and over again! 4. Vincenzo Castro     Vincenzo Castro (www.behance.net/vincenzocastro) is a young Italian graphic designer based in Milan, whose work is focused mostly on user interface, digital art and illustration. His schematic CV looks clean and simple, almost like and assembly sketch and highlights all his basis skills.         5. João Martins   Look at this creative resume! João Martins (www.behance.net/joaocrmartins) is a young Portuguese graphic designer based in Lisbon, who focuses on graphic design, motion design in television and User Interface design! His resume is absolutely visual. By combining photography and graphics, the CV not just highlights his skills, experience and the strengths of the designer, but also makes anyone wanting to keep reading. 6. Evelin Callens (www.behance.net/EvelienCallens) is a Belgian graphic designer and illustrator. Her love for minimalism and geometric shapes is also highlighted by her resume. She keeps things short and nice with a clear design. Evelien has chosen to use a mint-moss green color that works very well with the organization of the information from her resume and her title branding. Also, the origami elements added here bring an interesting dimension and personality to Evelien’s resume.      7. Alysa Choudri Things almost get crazy with this extremely creative and psychedelic Alysa Choudri’s (http://alysachoudri.tumblr.com/ ) resume. If you take a closer look, she managed to give a lot of information without being boring and cramped. Graphic designer, photographer and illustrator, Alysa loves colors and uses them to add a new dimension to her resume.   8. Chuck Lay     You might think this is an add page from an old newspaper, right? Well, no! It’s Chuck Lay’s (http://chuckdlay.deviantart.com) resume, a Dallas-based graphic designer. A lot of his inspiration comes mostly from the comic books and you can see this not just in his work, but also in his CV. And as the vintage design is one of the hottest trends for 2017, Chuck Lay’s resume for sure draws the eyes and stands out from the crowd.      9. Zhiyang Lim   Zhiyang Lim (www.behance.net/limzhiyang) is a Singapore-based designer and front-end developer who always tries to think outside of the box. Believing the design can transform the world, Zhiyang has chosen a creative, playful and colorful version for his CV. Based on the concept of his working place, the resume has a cartoon-like design. Even if there are almost 15 design elements there, you can still say a lot about his experience and skills. This is a great example of the expression “an image worth more than 100 words” and of how you can tell a story without actually saying anything. 10.Steve Fraschini With this resume, Steve Fraschini (https://dribbble.com/novagraphix) – graphic designer based in Paris – proved that the classic black & white still play the game in the design world and can win it. With a simple and clean design, having the information very well organized and some design elements that draw your eyes to every section, this resume is a good option for those who love the minimalism and classic.   11. Eric Ghandi This smart and creative resume was created by Eric Ghandi (www.ericgandhi.com). Starting from the belief that simplicity is the ultimate sophistication, his CV just shows us this. It’s simple and it’s brilliant! Nothing more than a couple of Google fonts, Google logo, a great idea and a lot of creativity!   12. Kelly Weihs Kelly Weihs’s (www.behance.net/KellyWeihs) resume stands out from the crowd thanks to its vintage and western style design. Starting from the idea of creating a CV that is different from everyone else and loving the historically inspired designs, Kelly had a lot of fun while designing this resume. And she did a very good job! 13. Omondi Abudho Omondi Abudho (www.behance.net/pixcaliba) is a Kenyan art director and photographer, based in Nairobi. Picking up a bit of attention for his resume, Abudho has designed his CV as an unfolded box. So, if they want, all the potential employers can cut it out and following the die, can fold it into a box, completed with the creative “nutrition” facts. 14. Amber Van Mieghem Amber Van Mieghem (www.behance.net/amberlink) is a young Belgium graphic designer. Named “Take a look inside”, her resume is creative and compact. Designed as a flyer and playing interesting with the folding lines and shapes, Amber’s CV is reveals all what a customer or employer needs to know about her skills and experience.   15. Ada Napiorkowski Ada Napoirkowski (www.behance.net/napiorkowski) is art director and illustrator based in Heidelberg, Germany.   Instead of designing just a resume, she created a whole self-promotion pack, in order to respond to her style and personality. And do you know what is the best part? It’s all hand-made and printed using a normal domestic printer. 16. Kevin Fernandez Kevin Fernandez (http://nikond50.deviantart.com/) is photographer and designer based in Santa Clara, California. Fernandez used his skills also for creating his own resume. The bright colors, shades of purple, the typography and the contrast used exactly where it’s necessary to work incredibly well together, creating an eye-catching resume! 17. Ed Hamilton   Ed Hamilton is a London-based designer and copywriter who developed a creative way to stand out to prospective employers. Using Google Maps’ My Maps feature, Hamilton mapped his resume using different colored pins in order to create personalized placemarks. Each pin has an explanatory text, including information about the place he lives, his interests and work experience.   18. Michael Anderson   Michael Anderson’s (www.flickr.com/people/lunyboy/?rb=1) resume was born from an epiphany. As he realized suddenly a resume is just tagged temporal data, he decided to treat it as such, in order to convey much more information. His resume is creative and colorful, bringing the standard display of data to another level. Even if Michael is now working in his family’s business, his resume still draws a lot of attention online.   19. Chen Zhi Liang Chen Zhi Liang (www.behance.net/zhiliang) is a young designer based in Singapore. He accepted the challenge of his graphic design tutor to create an inventive resume that would make him to stand apart from the competition. So, he decided to go minimalist and designed this creative infographic resume in which he says a lot without using practically to many words. Just graphics. And he did a very good job.     20. Scott Duffey   The British designer Scott Duffey (http://www.scottduffey.com) created this work place scene in order to use it as resume in the back of his portfolio. “I wanted to end my portfolio in a way that would leave an impression,” explains . “I wanted to be remembered by my interviewer, so I needed to deliver key information whilst also giving a feel of my personality.”     Read More at 20 Examples of Creative Graphic Designers’ Resumes http://dlvr.it/PM25RY www.regulardomainname.com

[lumiolivier]

Chapter Twenty-One:  Long Live the Red Hats

Word Count:  6050

Chapter No. 21/?

Notes:  There is something that gets a little cringy and borders into harassment, but it’s not too terribly bad.  I’m also thinking about posting this to Fiction Press to boost my numbers over there.  Thoughts?

Chapter Twenty:  Hangovers and a Harajuku Staple

He may have cleaned up. He may have quit smoking pot.  But at the end of the day, Kyle was still Kyle and Kyle was late.  With the way last night went, though, I wasn’t complaining.  The last thing I wanted to do today was babysit.  It was bad enough I had Veronica.  I didn’t need that in my life today.  What I needed was cold, blended, and caffeinated all to hell.

 “You want me make you something, baby?” Julian offered.

 “Yes, please,” I grabbed our aprons from under the register, “Can I have a bridge to jump from?”

 “No,” he shot me down, “You’re not that bad.  You’ll be fine.”

 “I don’t want to work overtime tonight,” I pouted, “I don’t want to work here period.”

 “Then, what do you want to do?” Julian asked, flipping the machines on.

 “I want to travel the country,” I sighed out, flipping the open sign, “I want to cosplay with you. I want for some publisher to see my shit and think I’m a good writer and for this to not be a colossal waste of time.”

 “You are a good writer,” he assured.

 “How would you know?” I rested my throbbing head in my hands, “You don’t read fan fiction.”

 “Oh really?” Julian handed me an iced latte with two shots of espresso, “I don’t read fan fiction, Miss Ouran High School Host Club/Black Butler crossover?  Miss Kiss, Kiss, Sign a Contract?”

 “Excuse me?” I perked up.

 “Miss Sebastian Michaelis lies dormant in the soul of Kyoya Ootori?” he smirked, “And Ciel Phantomhive’s in Haruhi Fujioka?  And you say I don’t read fan fiction.”

 “Somebody’s been busy,” I blushed, “When did you start reading my fan fiction?”

 “Last night,” Julian admitted, “I was bored, sitting in that diner by myself.  I tried getting a hold of Paul, but he wasn’t answering.”

 “I’m sorry,” I felt bad for him, “I didn’t ask you to follow us.”

 “But I did anyway,” he beamed, all proud of himself, “So, question.”

 “What?”

 “What made you cross them?” Julian wondered, “Why Kyoya with Sebastian and Haruhi with Ciel?”

 “Well,” I explained, “In the English dub, Kyoya and Sebastian have the same voice actors.  In the Japanese dub, Ciel and Haruhi have the same voice actors.  It was begging for a crossover.  Not to mention, if you think about it, Sebastian and Kyoya aren’t very different. You can’t tell me that in a modern setting, Sebastian wouldn’t be mistaken for yakuza.”

 “Yeah,” he agreed, “I see it.  But yes. I’ve read something you’ve written. It’s wonderful and I’m so proud. But since you showed me yours, I suppose it’s time I show you mine, right?”

 “Slow down there, friend,” I stopped him, “What are you talking about?”

 “My portfolio,” Julian gave me a look, “What else would I be showing you?”

 “You know damn well what,” I nudged him.

 “Mimi,” he gasped, “I am a classier lady than that.”

 “Are you?” I grabbed the first customer’s order, “Are you really?”

 “Yes, I am,” Julian covered himself, being a drama queen, “I am more than just an object.”

 “I know, honey,” I giggled, “You’re also a massive dork.”

 “I could’ve told you that.”

 “Hold on,” I stopped in the middle of making a cappuccino, “What’s today?”

 “Tuesday?”

 “What day?”

 “The twenty-ninth,” Julian started to get nervous, “What’s the twenty-ninth got to do with anything? Should I have gone full Russell?”

 “Don’t worry about it,” I promised, “You don’t need to pull out Russell.  You’re fine.  It’s just…It’s the last Tuesday of the month.”

 “That’s all well and good, Mimi,” he questioned my sanity, “But what’s that supposed to mean?”

“The last Tuesday of every month,” I grinned, “You’ll see.  Just wait for it.  It should be happening in the next hour or so.”

 “What kind of drugs are you on today?” Julian joked, “Or is sleep deprivation screwing with your head?”

 “Neither,” I made the woman’s change, “Don’t worry.  It’s nothing bad.”

 “Mimi!” Kyle stumbled through the doors.

 “Where have you been?” I scolded, “You’re usually only ten minutes late.  We’ve been open for an hour, Kyle.”

 “I know,” he kept his head down, “And I’m sorry.  I’m…I feel great.”

 “Oh, Kyle,” I let out a heavy, exasperated, and disappointed sigh, “Look at me.”

 “Um…”

 “Kyle,” I forced his gaze. Surprise, surprise.  If I couldn’t smell it on him, his glazed over, bloodshot eyes gave it away.  Fantastic. Kyle falling off the wagon. There’s what I needed today, “You went back, didn’t you?”

 “Mary Jane’s a cruel mistress,” he pushed through the kitchen doors, “And she’s got a tight grip on my heart.”

 “Dammit, Kyle,” I grumbled.

 “Sorry, Mimi…”

 “Not even noon and I need a drink,” I growled, “They better hurry up.”

 “Who?” Julian asked.

 “Again,” I settled, catching a tiny contact buzz from the dumbass in the kitchen, “You’ll see. Now, do me a favor and keep an eye on him.”

 “Sure,” he nodded.

 “I’ll let you know when they get here,” I told, “Watch him like a hawk, Julian.”

 “Yes, ma’am,” Julian gave me a half salute and went to take over my babysitting duties.  I couldn’t handle Kyle baked today.  All I wanted to do today was lay on Julian’s couch after work with my head in his lap and watch whatever cartoons the good people of Japan had to offer us.  But I had the supreme honor of staying over.  I just needed a night of calm.  I needed the first night Julian and I spent together again.  Maybe even the night after we met.

 “My goodness,” a small bus had unloaded into the café, “Look at you, Mimi!  You’ve gotten so big!  I remember when you were just a little thing.”

 “Hi, Betty,” I couldn’t have been happier when this sweet, adorable, old lady stood in front of me, donning a big, red hat, “I’m not that big.  I’m still that little girl inside.”

 “You should stay that way,” she insisted, “That way, you’ll never get old.”

 “I’ll keep that in mind,” my heart felt so full, “What can I get for you?”

 “I don’t know,” Betty looked over the menu, “I don’t want anything fancy.”

 “How about a simple coffee?” I offered, “Maybe some French vanilla creamer?”

 “That sounds heavenly!” she chimed, “Yes, please!”

 “Do you want anything with it?” I asked, “Muffin?  Scone? Cinnamon roll?”

 “I think I’ll have a muffin,” Betty decided, “Banana nut.”

 “One of those sounds pretty good right about now,” I agreed with her, “In fact, I think there’s a batch about to come out right now.  Julian!”

 “Hold on, sweetheart,” he warned me, coming out of the kitchen with a tray on his arm, “These are still pretty warm.”

 “What kind are those?”

 “Orange cranberry and banana nut,” Julian stocked the case, “What’s up?”

 “Aren’t you adorable!” Betty sang out, “You must be new!”

 “Yeah,” he melted, “I’ve been here a couple weeks now.”

 “Julian, this is Betty,” I introduced him, “She’s the president of the Lenexa Red Hats.  Betty, this is Julian.  No title.”

 “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Betty,” Julian gushed, “I’ve heard a bit about you.”

 “It’s nice to meet you, too, honey,” she awed, leaning over to me, “Mimi, he’s cute.”

 “Yeah,” I started turning pink, “He is.  Just moved to town.”

 “Where are you from, Julian?” Betty asked.

 “I was born in Chicago,” he told, “But I moved here from St. Louis.”

 “City boy?” she shot me glances, “City boys aren’t boy scouts.”

 “Betty,” I slid her coffee across the counter, “Play nice.”

 “I did a couple weeks of survival training once,” Julian admitted, “I’m pretty sure boy scouts wish they were me.”

 “Alright,” Betty let it go, “I like him.  He’s ok with me.”

 “I’m glad we have your approval,” I giggled under my breath, “Six dollars even.  Julian, will you be a lamb and grab a muffin, please?”

 “What kind?” he asked.

 “Banana nut.”

 “Of course,” Julian pulled a muffin out of the pastry case and put it in a paper bag, “Here, Betty.”

 “Thank you, honey,” Betty smiled, making the entire world light up.

 “How long are you and the girls with us today?” I wondered.

 “We promise we won’t be too much trouble,” she teased, “We’re going up to Kansas City today. This should be a quick in and out for us.”

 “What’s in Kansas City?” I grabbed the next Red Hat in line.

 “We’re doing the gardens tour,” one of the others, Martha, broke into our conversation.

 “That sounds beautiful,” I approved, “I’m jealous.  You guys couldn’t have picked a prettier day.”

 “I wish you could come with us, Mimi,” Betty sighed, “It’s such a sight.  You don’t get to see much for flowers around here.”

 “No, we don’t,” I started on an earl grey tea for Martha, “Mostly hay fields and soybeans around here.”

 “Why don’t you play a little hooky?” Martha instigated, “Come with us!”

 “I can’t,” I broke the news, “I have to keep things running around here.  I’m in enough hot water with the boss as it is.  I had to skip out early yesterday and now, I have to stay and balance the books tonight.”

 “When will Jeffrey Griffin learn?” Betty pouted, “You have a life, too, sweetheart.  He can’t have a hold on your soul.”

 “That’s right,” another one of the Red Hats joined us.  Gladys. I loved Gladys, “You’re a free spirit, Mimi.  And it needs to be let out of its cage once in a while.”

 “When was the last time you went out and had any fun?” Martha asked.

 “Last night,” I told, “But it wasn’t really for me to have fun.  My best friend’s boyfriend broke up with her and I needed to cheer her up.”

 “That’s awfully sweet of you,” Gladys praised, “But you still need to do some things for yourself, too.”

 “That’s what I tell her!” Julian chimed in, “All the time!”

 “You’d think she’d start listening,” Betty gave Julian a little nudge.

 “Maybe one day.”

 “Remind me to hit you later,” I teased.

 “Will do!”

 “I like him,” Martha sang.

 “Me, too,” Gladys agreed, “Is he your boyfriend, Mimi?”

 “No,” I tried to keep my shakes under wraps, “He can’t be my boyfriend.  We can’t date coworkers.”

 “Again,” Betty raised hell, “Why won’t Jeffrey let you live your life?”

 “I don’t know.”

 “Probably because he’s so miserable in his own life,” Martha assumed, “He has to make everyone just as miserable.”

 “Amen, sister!” Julian gave her a high five.

 “Well, we should be off,” Betty grabbed her banana nut muffin, “It was lovely meeting you, Julian.”

 “You, too,” Julian surrendered to her hug.  There was no turning that down, “Come back soon, ok?”

 “We will,” she assured, “Last Tuesday, like always.”

 “You ladies enjoy your trip,” I grabbed the door for them.

 “And Mimi,” Gladys took my hand, “Please.  Don’t let Griffin rule your life.  Or anyone else.  If you want to quit your job and see the world, do it.  If you want to love that hot piece of ass in there, do it.  I saw the way he looks at you and it wouldn’t surprise me if the feeling was mutual.  If you want to run around the home with your underwear on your head, don’t let the orderly give you a sedative and a bite guard.  You spit out that bite guard and your medication and put your panties on your head.  To hell what people think!”

 In her own, strange way, Gladys told me exactly what I needed to hear.  I knew I loved her for a reason.  I gave her the biggest hug, but not too much.  Gladys was fragile, “Thank you, Gladys.  I think today is that day.”

 “That’s my girl!” she kissed my cheek, “Good luck, Mimi.”

 I was going to need it. As the Red Hats emptied out of the café, I got back to cleaning tables, hoping it’d be enough to get Griffin off my back and I wouldn’t have to stay.  Then again, there’s a possibility that Gladys’ speech sparked something in me. Gave me the balls to leave here without a job.  There goes my Crunchyroll premium account.  Still got Netflix, though.

 “Julian,” I sighed out, already exhausted and it was only noon, “Will you still love me if I’m out of a job?”

 “Of course,” he promised, “What are you talking silliness about?”

 “Post them,” I demanded.

 “What?”

 “Light and Misa,” I elaborated, “I think I’m putting in my two weeks.  This place doesn’t deserve me.”

 “Good for you, Mimi,” Julian beamed, “I’m proud of you.”

 “Although,” I thought it over, “Quitting could cause a lot of collateral damage.  There’s a chance I’ll end up getting kicked out.”

 “If you do,” he took my hand under the counter, “Then, it’s a good thing I’m down the road, isn’t it?”

 “You’d let me move in?” my heart radiated such a warmth.

 “Of course,” Julian confirmed, “Like I’d let you live on the street.  Don’t give me that.”

 I rested my head on his shoulder, “What would I do without you?”

 “I don’t know,” he threw his arm around me, “You’d probably fall apart.  Just a little, though.  You’re tough. You can do this.”

 “So,” I perked up, “I’m doing this?  I’m really doing this?”

 “I’m sure you have dreams bigger than the café,” Julian assumed, “At least I’m hoping so.”

 “I want to get published, dammit!” I pitched a little fit, “But I’ve looked into it and it’s a long, drawn out, pain in the ass process.  The last publisher I talked to said I’d have to wait at least six months after submission for them to even come around to reading my manuscript. Not to mention, I haven’t had an original idea in months.”

 “You could write about us,” he suggested.

 “That’s sweet, Julian,” I let him down gently, “But I don’t think I could do us justice.”

 “Or maybe,” Julian thought it over, “You could write a fic so good that someone from a studio sees it and you end up writing the source material.”

 “That’s even more farfetched than me writing about us.”

 “Think about it,” he put things into perspective, “Your fan fiction.  That’s an original idea, isn’t it?”

 “No,” I clarified, “That’s an off-shoot of the series.”

 “Is it?” Julian went on, “The idea had to come from somewhere.  If you change the names around a little, you can convert your fan fiction into an original.”

 “And with some major plot reconstruction,” I figured, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, Julian, but I don’t think it’s going to work.”

 “Maybe that’s your problem,” he grabbed the next order for me, “Maybe you should start thinking things can happen and things can work.  My god, I need to get you around some of my friends.”

 “What good is that going to do?” I asked, resituating the pastry case.

 “Maybe once you’re amongst the more creative types cut from the same cloth we are,” he figured, “You’ll start seeing it.”

 “Where did your sudden surge of optimism come from?”

 “I blame the Red Hats,” he smiled, “Come on, Mimi.  You can do this.  You’re not staying over.  You’re coming home when you’re supposed to.  And you’re going to be there when I post our shots from Sunday.  Think.  What would Light do?”

 “Write Griffin’s name in the notebook,” I chuckled a bit, “Then, we’d all be out of a job.”

 “Ok, bad example,” Julian caught, “Better one.  What would the Elric boys do?”

 “Don’t,” I stopped him, “Don’t you dare use my babies against me, Julian.  That’s a dick move.”

 “What would the Elric boys do?” he repeated himself.

 “Dammit,” I grumbled under my breath, “They’d keep moving forwards.  Both of my legs are real, so I have that going for me.”

 “I guess you could say you have a leg up…”

 “Goddammit, Julian…” I shook my head at him.

 “Got you to smile,” he chimed.

 “You’re an idiot,” I rolled my eyes with a little smile on my face.

 “Hi, Mimi!” Veronica came in as her bright and bubbly self.

 “Hi, sweetie,” I gave her a look, “You’re in awfully high spirits.  Get your revenge lay already?”

 “Even better!” she sang out, “I’m not returning my homecoming dress!”

 “Awesome!” I threw my arms around her, “You’re still going?”

 “I sure am,” Veronica grinned darkly, “You know Luke’s best friend Eric?”

 “Yeah.  He’s a good kid.”

 “Guess who I’m going with now?”

 “No!” I gasped, “Does Eric know it’s a rebound thing?”

 “He said Luke didn’t deserve me in the first place,” she shrugged, “We’ll see how well this goes and if something takes off from there.”

 “Are Luke and Eric at odds?” I wondered, getting her usual coffee order.

 “Eric knew about Luke’s side bitch,” Veronica explained, “Apparently, she’s going to school somewhere in Wichita and they met after an away game.  Her little brother was playing on the opposite team.  Eric told Luke to stay away from her.  The fact that he went around behind his back pissed him off.  And now, I’m going to homecoming with my ex’s best friend.  Life is looking up!”

 “Good for you, Veronica,” Julian chimed in, “See?  I told you it’d get better.”

 “I have some appointments to reschedule,” she grabbed her cup, “Thought I’d drop by and deliver the good news.”

 “That’s great news, Roni,” I applauded, “So, no more frown town?”

 “Nope!”

 “Good,” I sent her out, “Go on.  I got other customers.”

 “Bye!”

 It did my heart good to see that girl in such a good mood again.  And that was the final signal from the universe I needed.  Gladys’ pep talk.  Veronica’s revenge date.  Julian saying he’d let me crash with him if worst comes to worst.  Good things come in threes, right?  Now, all I had to do was wait for Griffin to show his face.  I had three years of anger built up deep inside. I couldn’t, in good conscience, keep all of that in.  That’s how ulcers happen.

 “Looks like the apple cart is still on all its wheels,” Julian noticed, “Ready to shake it up some more?”

 “I need Griffin to come in,” I psyched myself up.

 “You can do this,” he assured, “You deserve better and you know it.”

 “Yes, I do,” I hyped, “I don’t need this kind of anger in my life anymore.  Not worth the stress.”

 “There’s my girl,” Julian praised as the bell above the door announced Griffin’s arrival, “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

 “Mr. Griffin,” I stopped him, “Do you have a minute?”

 “Always for you, Mimi,” his voice gave me chills.  And not the good kind of chills like Julian’s did.  More like a snake crawling under my skin, “What’s up?  You’re not trying to get out of your overtime, are you?”

 “No, sir,” I shook my head, “I appreciate what you’ve done for me the past three years.”

 “And I you,” Mr. Griffin put his hand on my shoulder, making me cringe, “You know, sweetheart, I’m glad I have you.  If I didn’t, I’m not sure if this little café would be able to stand.  And all the people that make this a regular stop on their way to work would have nowhere else to go.”

 Dammit.  He knows my weakness.  No, Mimi.  Stay strong, “You’re exaggerating.”

 “No, I’m not,” he assured, “You are my angel, Mimi.  You keep my son in line, my numbers in the black, and you provide a great service to our little community.  Keep up the good work, kiddo.  I’m proud of you.”

 “But…” I couldn’t speak. I got so tongue tied.  And before I knew it, he was gone.  He had just come in to check on the café.  To make sure we weren’t getting into trouble.  Shit!

 “What happened?” Julian worried, “I thought you were going to put in your two weeks.”

 “He knows the magic of guilt,” I cringed, “Manipulative prick.”

 “That’s called a toxic relationship,” he explained, “They don’t always have to be romantic.  If it’s two people and one is holding something over the other in order to get what they want, it’s toxic.  In this case, it’s your paycheck.  You don’t need that.”

 “Yet, I folded like a cheap suit,” I grumbled.

 “People like him are going to do that,” Julian went on, “You have to fight past that.  You can’t let him make you feel an inch tall for the sake of not rocking the boat.  Make that boat capsize.  He’s not banking on the fact that you know how to swim.”

 “Tomorrow,” I sighed out, “There’s always tomorrow, right?”

 “Yeah,” he nodded, “What’s the point in waiting until tomorrow?  You’ll end up putting it off again.”

 “Where were you last night when I needed to get Veronica out of her slump?”

 “Right across the street,” Julian reminded me, “I’m always there, baby.  Never doubt that.”

 “Thank you, Julian,” my voice broke a little.

 “Hey,” he wiped my cheek, “Don’t start on me.  He’s not worth getting upset over.  You can tell Griffin what for tomorrow, got it?”

 “Ok,” I pulled myself together and finished work for the day.  As soon as we closed up, I threw Julian my car keys and holed up in the office. I hated balancing the books with a burning passion.  The things I do for you, Veronica Sue.  The things I do for you.  I made myself Julian’s usual poison of choice and got to work.

 The tedious…mind numbing…busy work.  In this tiny, cramped office, not much bigger than my closet.  Julian told me I could get over my writer’s block this way. That the vast blankness in the repetitive actions would knock something loose.  How was I supposed to finish the Free! fic like this?  I was stuck in a small office crunching numbers.  The Free! fic took place near the ocean.  In Rin’s apartment.  I was nowhere near that.  I’d rather be there than here.  Ideally, I’d be at Julian’s, but here I was.

 Ding!

 I stuck my head out of the office and looked toward the door, “How you doing, Mimi?”

 “Good,” I let out a heavy sigh.  Griffin. Fan-fucking-tastic.  Just what I wanted.

 “That’s what I like to hear,” he praised, “You’re my favorite little worker bee.”

 “Does that make you the queen bee?” I joked, almost mad at myself for saying that out loud.

 “King bee,” he corrected me. No such thing, but I’ll let him have it, “Do you need anything?  Doing ok?”

 “It’s just balancing the books, Mr. Griffin,” I bit my tongue, “I think I can manage.”

 “That’s my girl,” Mr. Griffin put his arm around me, lightly massaging my shoulder.

 “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” I gagged a little, getting out from under him, “I need to get back to work.”

 “This can wait,” he brushed me off, getting his grip back on my arm, “Can’t it?  It’s just numbers.  They’re not going anywhere.”

 Come on, Mimi.  Toxic, remember?  Stay strong.  Do this for you.  Don’t let anyone tell you how to live your life.  Ultimately, it’s your decision.  Now or never.  Don’t wait until tomorrow.  You can do this.  You can do this.  You can do this.  This is crazy, but you can do this.

 “Mr. Griffin, I’m moving,” I blurted out, “I’m putting in my two weeks as of now.”

 “What?” I caught him off guard, “No, you’re not.  You can’t leave me.”

 No.  Don’t let him use guilt, “I have to.  I need to move onward and upward with my life.”

 “No, you’re not,” he shot me down, “You’re not going anywhere.”

 I can do this, “Yes, I am. I’m sorry, sir, but you don’t make that decision.”

 “I thought you were up to something,” Mr. Griffin snarled, “I thought you were going to quit on me. Not surprised.  You’ve only been here for three years.  It’s not like you’re that motivated to do anything.”

 “Excuse me?” I shot him a glare.

 “If you were,” he argued, “You would’ve been out of here ages ago.  Instead, you’ve had this job since you graduated and haven’t left. You don’t have a college education. You’re lucky you even graduated high school.  It’s not like you have any other skills.  You’re even quiet around the customers.  You’re not going anywhere, Mimi.  I know better.”

 My heart started racing, beating out of my chest, “Yes, I am.”

 “Where?” Mr. Griffin asked, “Where are you going?  I know how much you make in a year.  It’s not like you’re going very far.  You probably couldn’t afford a studio apartment in Kansas City.  I took you in when you had nowhere else to go.  I took care of you.  Anything you wanted, it was yours.  I even got you a little extra help.  And this is how you thank me?  No. You’re not going anywhere.”

 “No,” I grabbed my bag, taking the biggest leap of my life, “I am.  I am going somewhere and that somewhere isn’t here.  I’m done.”

 “If you walk out that door,” Mr. Griffin threatened, “Don’t think you’ll walk back in tomorrow morning with a job.”

 “Good,” I grinned, “That was the point.  You need me more than I need you.”

 I pushed through the front door, pleasantly surprised with myself.  Good for me.  I’m proud of you, Mimi.  You did it. You grew a spine.  The only suck part now was my lack of employment. Instead of calling Julian right away, I decided to take a walk down the road to the Pit Stop.  If anyone could be any comfort to me right now, it’d be Sal.

 “Hey!” he sang as I walked in, “There’s my favorite customer!”

 “Hi, Sal,” I let out a heavy sigh, post adrenaline rush.

 “What’s that all about?” Sal worried, already getting my ice cream for me, “You seem down.”

 “Not really down,” I explained, “More like lost.”

 “Talk to me, princess,” he offered, “What’s got you lost?”

 “I just quit,” I admitted, “I just quit my job at the café.”

 “Oh,” Sal put his scoop down and came around to the other side of the counter, giving me the biggest hug he could’ve possibly given me, “I’m proud of you, Mimi.”

 “Why?” I wondered, “Why would me quitting my job make you proud?”

 “Because you were too good for him!” Sal growled, “My brother, as much as I love him, can be…Well, there’s no nicer way of saying this.  He can be an asshole.”

 “And how,” I agreed, giggling a little.

 “And he was no more an asshole to anyone than you,” his tirade went on, “From day one.  And you didn’t need that.”

 “That’s what everyone keeps telling me,” I sat down, “But now, I have no idea what I’m going to do.”

 “That’s what life is, sweetheart,” Sal settled a bit, “Don’t go looking for it.  It’ll find you.”

 “Can I be honest with you, Sal?” I blushed.

 “Always.”

 “I think life has found me,” I smiled, “In the form of the guy I was with last week.”

 “Thought so,” he brought me my double scoop, “I knew there was something going on with you two.  But doesn’t he work at the café, too?”

 “I’m the one that got him the job,” my spoon hung out of my mouth.  You don’t think Griffin would do something so petty as to fire Julian because of me, do you?”

 “No,” Sal promised, “That would mean Jeffrey would have to come down from his high horse to do legwork. That’s not going to happen.  Don’t worry.  Julian’s job is safe.”

 Ring, ring.

 “Hold on,” I looked down at my phone, “I have to get this.”

 “Go ahead.”

 I slid my finger across my phone screen, “Hi, Mom.”

 “Where are you?” Mom worried, “You were supposed to be home two hours ago.”

 “Sorry,” I apologized, “I had to stay late.”

 “Well, hurry up and come home,” she begged, “We missed you!”

 “I will,” I promised, “It’ll be a little while yet.”

 “Fine,” she let me go, “Get back to work.”

 I hung up with my mother and threw my phone back in my bag, “I should be going.  Thanks for letting me vent, Sal.”

 “Anytime, honey,” he got back up, “If you need anything, let me know, ok?”

 I grabbed the shattered remains of my double scoop and left to clear my head.  Sal’s sage like wisdom always knew how to cheer me up, but I needed some time to think.  I bought myself another couple hours with my mom and Julian didn’t expect me to be done until ten.  It was a beautiful night, so I took a walk down to the public pool and climbed the high dive.

 I just quit my job.  I had no contingency plan.  I had no idea where I was going to go from there.  I put all my eggs into one basket with doing the con circuit with Julian.  Maybe someone’s already seen something in my fan fiction and told two friends who told two friends.  I got my phone out and checked my comment section.  Nope.  Squat. I’m screwed.  I have no job, hardly any money, and I have to cancel my Crunchyroll premium subscription.

 I just hoped it wouldn’t get to the point where I was so desperate for cash I had to start selling off my babies.  Some of my figurines and collectables were worth some serious money.  I had a State Alchemist pocket watch made with real silver. I had a replica of Ciel Phantomhive’s ring with an actual sapphire in it (even though in the anime and the manga, it was technically a blue diamond).  I couldn’t.  Or even worse than selling off my collectables?  I really hoped I didn’t have to resort to becoming a camgirl. Last resort.  If I’m on the street and starving, then and ONLY THEN would I consider becoming a camgirl.

 I don’t know anymore. Maybe I need to get my head right. Let’s look at the positives.  What I have right now.  I got…I got my ice cream.  I got the most beautiful views in all of Lenexa.  I got my health.  I got Julian. My parents waiting at home for me. Even though they were going to just bitch at me for quitting my job.  No, Mimi.  We’re thinking positive.  I’m hopeless…

 “I thought I’d find you up here,” a familiar voice called from the bottom of the ladder, “I stopped by the café and no one was there.  Drove by your parents’ house and they were the only ones home.  What, my dear Mimi, would you be doing on the high dive at this hour?”

 “Trying to make sense of the world,” I sighed out, “Sorry.  Didn’t mean to make you worry.”

 “That’s what I do,” Julian climbed up, “It’s a curse.  Now, back to the main question.  What are you doing here?”

 “I did it,” I told him, “I quit.  I tried putting my two weeks in.  Griffin wasn’t having it.  We got into it.  And he fired me.”

 “So, you’re done?” he asked, joining me on top, “It’s official?”

 “Pretty much.”

 “Good for you, Mimi,” Julian gave me a quick kiss, “What did he say?”

 “I told him I was moving,” I began, “H said I wasn’t going anywhere.  That I lacked motivation.  He tried giving me guilt trip again, so I got up and left.  He said if I walked out, I didn’t have a job tomorrow morning.”

 “And?”

 “And I told him that was the idea,” I rested my head on Julian’s shoulder, “Then, I went to the Pit Stop, got some ice cream, and came here.”

 “This was for the better,” Julian promised, “You know that, right?”

 “I know,” I cuddled into him, “I really hope the con circuit’s good to us, Julian.  Because that was a serious leap of faith.”

 “It will be,” he held me a little closer, “I got a text from Paul earlier with all our Death Note shots from the other day.  They’re in a neat little file on my phone.  All I have to do is post.”

 I grabbed his phone out of his jacket pocket, “Do it.  Right now.”

 “Right now?” Julian beamed, “We’re doing this right now?”

 “What better time?” I wondered, “Do it before I change my mind.”

 “Alright,” I watched him log into his website and saw the little green upload bar go up.  And the ‘Are you sure you want to upload this post?’ message popped up, “No going back.  You sure you want to do this?”

 I looked down at his phone screen and hit the yes button myself, “I’m sure.”

 Julian gave me a little kiss on my forehead, “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

 “Julian,” I wrapped his arm around me, “I’m scared.”

 “Don’t be,” he assured, “I’m right here.  And I’m not going anywhere, remember?”

 “Not until May,” I reminded, “Then, we do the con circuit.”

 “Bye, bye, Lenexa.”

 “Yeah,” I had the sudden realization hit me.  In a little under eight months, I’d be leaving the only place I’ve ever called home.

 “Mimi?” Julian gave me a nudge, “You in there?  You blanked out for a minute, koibito.”

 “I did?” I came back.”

 “Yeah,” he nodded, “Maybe we should get you home.”

 “Yeah,” I agreed, swinging around to the ladder, “I should.  I mean, it’s not like I have to get up for work in the morning, but still.”

 “Here’s a thought,” Julian suggested, “Since it’ll be Wednesday and book club’s going to be trying to grab ass me again, you think you could make Russell happen for me?”

 “I thought you had Russell down to a science,” I pointed out, “What do you need me for?”

 “I always need you around,” he stole a kiss, “I’m lucky my head’s attached.”

 And that was the icing on this evening’s proverbial cake.  I needed that, “Sure.  Besides, it’ll be a good distraction, so my parents won’t find out about me quitting.”

 “You’re a big girl, Mimi,” Julian reminded me, “You’re free to make your own decisions.  And if you saw this as the best decision for you at the time, then let it be.”

 “I guess you’re right,” I started climbing down.

 “Now, stop staring at my ass,” he teased, “Or you’re not staying with me tonight.”

 “I can’t stay with you anyway,” I broke the news, “My parents just got home and Mom told me they miss me.”

 “Any idea where they went?” Julian asked.

 “St. Louis,” I assumed, “They’re suckers for the riverboats.”

 “Oh, the riverboats,” he chuckled to himself, “So many memories…So much puking…”

 “What?” I giggled with him.

 “I spent my twenty-first birthday on the riverboats,” Julian explained, “I didn’t realize how much they move when they’re in the water, so I learned quickly that wasted and seasick do not make a good combination.”

 “You idiot,” I rolled my eyes at him, jumping down from the bottom rung.

 “I’m your idiot,” he followed suit, “And you love me.”

 “Last time I checked,” I assumed, “You’re alright.”

 The two of us got into my car and started heading back home.  I really didn’t want him to go.  Just one more night.  They couldn’t have been gone one more night.  Unfortunately, though, all good things.  I got my good night kiss and went straight up to my room.  I knew they were going to want to tell me stories, but I just wanted to go to bed.  I wanted to be numb.

 Hold on…

 I looked under my bed and found an amber colored bottle waiting for me.  Bless you, Julian Cooke.  Bless you.  If you were here right now, I’d kiss you.  I cracked open the Fireball and started drinking.  Cinnamon whiskey would be my saving grace tonight.  If I had some vanilla ice cream and a bit of Rum Chata, I’d be making one hell of a milkshake.  But Sal was kind enough to give me enough rocky road for one night.  Besides, this would be plenty to get me to sleep.  I turned on some Fullmetal Alchemist, spooned Sebastian, and stuck a straw in the bottle.  Soon enough, it’d pull me under.