mewithanie

[onlylostphysics]

@ofmdjanuaury day 12: Skating + Artist

Modern AU, featuring the end of Stede & Mary's marriage (and Ed, oblivious, in the distance) 🤷‍♀️

---

They're sitting in the park sketching what they see; it's supposed to be about gestures, or capturing the essence, or something, but all Stede has managed are a few short, straight lines that look more like a forest after some kind of disaster than anything recognisably human.

It's all part of their marriage counselling. Dr Spriggs thinks they need to take interest in each other's hobbies to try to build some bridges over their complete failure to connect (Mary's words, not Dr Spriggs), and so they're both trying. Mary came out on the water for a day and hated every second of it. Now Stede's here, at Mary's art class, failing at that as well. 

"Great start, Stede!" says Doug, behind him, and Stede's shoulders tense up -- which is ridiculous, because Doug is lovely, but something about him makes Stede want to grow spikes and curl up into an unfriendly ball. 

"They're just lines," Stede says, clipped.

"Expressive lines!" Doug says approvingly, and moves onto the next student. 

Stede stares across the park, trying to find something easy to draw, but it's just a lot of grass, and some distant trees, and the skate park over to the right, with people drifting like clouds through it all. There's nothing Stede even wants to draw. The sunlight's quite nice, and there's been some gorgeous summer fashions paraded amongst the usual morning walk dullness, but all the interesting things move too quickly for him to even draw a single line. 

This is why everyone has camera phones these days! Just take a picture!

Mary, when Stede glances over, is frowning down at her drawing pad and sketching with considered strokes, occasionally glancing up at the view before she ducks her head again. There's a whole bench between them, because Stede sat here and Mary sat over there and Stede doesn't know which one of them is supposed to move. 

Dr Spriggs would say he should ask for her help, allow himself to be vulnerable, but Stede would rather eat this pencil. She would probably get angry at him for interrupting. She would probably just tell him he's not trying hard enough.

"Hi, Stede," Doug says, crouching down beside him. "Do you want to try a different exercise?"

I want to be far away from here, doing anything but this, Stede wants to say. "Mm hmm," he says, instead.

Doug smiles, bright and pleased. "Great! I'd like you to take your pencil for a walk across the page. Now, I know it sounds silly --"

"Mm," says Stede, because this is Mary's thing, and if he messes it up a lot of people will be angry with him.

"-- but what we're doing is freeing up your creativity. Don't look at the page --

"What? How I am supposed to know what I'm drawing?!"

"That's the freedom of it!" Doug says, with what appears to be genuine excitement. Stede will never understand the appeal of lines on a page unless it's something you already love. "Just draw without worrying about what you're drawing. How about you pick a person to focus on, and just let your pencil move across the page as you study them. Imagine who they are. Try to really capture not just what you see, but what you feel."

Out of place. Uncomfortable. Stupidly hot. He should maybe take off the jacket, but this waistcoat doesn't really work without it and the thought of sitting here being less than perfectly dressed is, somehow, utterly terrifying. 

"Keep it up!" Doug says, bright and nonsensical, and pats Stede on the shoulder before he moves away.

This is stupid, but Mary will be cross with him if he gives up after fifteen minutes, and obviously he wants their marriage to work, and he needs to try harder, so -- Stede sighs, looking up, and tries to find someone interesting to stare at. Someone far away, perhaps, so they don't notice him staring. 

The tip of his pencil is digging into the paper. He can't find a single person to rest his gaze on, because they all look so boring and indistinguishable and beige -- and then he glances over at the skatepark, and stops. 

It's the shorts, perhaps, that first grab his attention, the black leather above the long, muscled legs, the tattoos and the jet black roller skates -- but it's also the purple crop top, the bare arms, the beard, the hair; the way he's leaning his whole body into every turn, and gliding as easy as a yacht on the waves, his undeniable presence as he cuts through the streams of other people. 

Oh, wow, Stede thinks, and doesn't look away. He watches the way the sunlight glitters across the silver in the skater's hair, and the way his thighs are glistening with sweat from the heat of the morning, and the impeccable cut of those shorts, clinging so tight without restricting his movement at all. 

He looks so comfortable in his skin. Stede wants, without really knowing what it is that he's suddenly desperate for -- to be that free, perhaps. To move with such ease. To glide through a crowd and not want to apologise for your existence.

He is, Stede eventually remembers, supposed to be drawing, so he keeps staring and lets the pencil go for its ridiculous walk across the stupid page. He traces the lines of the man's legs with his eyes and (kind of) with his hand. He lets the pencil jump when he jumps. The skater almost collides with someone, an unsteady teenager on a skateboard, and he just spins off easily and the sound of his laugh carries all the way over here.

Goodness, it's hot today, but that's easy to ignore when his attention is so thoroughly occupied. Stede pauses to pick up his water bottle, switching hands so his pencil doesn't have to move, and takes a long drink without looking away because, honestly, what if the man disappears when Stede isn't looking? It would ruin the whole exercise.

He does run off the page at one point when the skater does some kind of trick, his legs going wide as he bends over and touches his toes. Stede's arm slips and he jerks forward, his heart hammering as he catches himself and sits upright again, and his face feels very warm. He hopes no one saw that. He was just trying to capture the inverted vee of the man's legs, after all.

Time passes. Stede lets his hand wander, thinking about how maybe he should take up skating -- it would be good to get out of the house more, and it's clearly done wonders for that man's build, so broad-shouldered and strong -- and where the skater got his clothes -- Stede's never been very into leather, but it's a practical material, it must be good for protecting him if he ever falls -- and if he comes here every Sunday -- maybe Stede could, too. To draw him. He's never felt so inspired. 

The skater weaves his way to the side of the skatepark, spinning a half turn as he sits down and then grabs a water bottle, his throat long as he takes a drink.

It seems like as good a time as any to finish, although it's oddly hard to drag his eyes away. There was something Doug said, wasn't there, about this being freeing? Which sounded like the usual arty nonsense but Stede gets it, now -- he does feel free. Unleashed and creative, his skin flush and alive with possibility. 

Perhaps there is something to this 'expressing yourself through art' idea. Perhaps he's unlocked a secret talent for it. Perhaps, he thinks, and looks down. 

Stede's drawing, when he looks at it, is fucking terrible. Louis could draw a more human-looking person and -- Stede loves him more than life itself, would throw himself in front of a train for him -- Louis is four years old and did not inherit his mother's aptitude for art. It's a mess of aimless lines, barely contained by the page. 

It's probably a good metaphor for something, but right now Stede just wants to slam the book shut and make sure no one ever sees it.

"Are you finished?" Mary asks, suddenly sitting down beside him. 

"Oh!" Stede says, and then, "Er."

"It's that man. The skater," Mary says, looking at Stede's sketchbook.

"Oh, can you tell?" Stede says, feeling suddenly quite warm and pleased. Maybe it's not that bad, if it's obvious who --

"No, I saw you staring at him," Mary says, and Stede deflates like he's been pricked. 

"He looked interesting," Stede says, defensively.

"Hm," Mary says. They're sitting close but Stede can't feel the warmth of her at all, and she doesn't reach over to take his hand, or say anything comforting, or inspire anything in Stede's heart but the want to go be alone with his books.

Mary sighs. "I want a divorce," she says. 

Be honest about what you want, Dr Spriggs keeps telling them.

Stede swallows. "Me too," he says. 

Mary reaches over, and squeezes his hand. 

---

the rest of my JanuAUry fics can be found on tumblr or AO3!

[lunathrix]

has doctor ghost reached a diagnosis for the smol radiance?

That's actually going to be the topic of the next 2 dr ghost episodes but that might still be a while so have this in the meantime!

[sarahjtv]

BNHA Chapter 327 Spoiler Analysis: Home Sweet Home

OH MY GOD, GUYS!!!  DEKU GETS A BATH!!!! 🎉🛁 🧼   My broccoli boy finally gets squeaky clean, gets some sleep, and we finally get some R&R time with the Class 1-A kids.  It’s not close to the happy-go-lucky days of old, but it’s some time with the kids nonetheless.  I’m glad Horikoshi put some heart and humor in this chapter because god knows we needed it.  But, let’s be real, this is the calm before the storm:

The chapter starts off with what everyone and Horikoshi has been wanting for Deku since he went on his mission: A motherfuckin’ bath 🛀 🧼🛁!   Kaminiari and Kirishima lead the Class 1-A boys to carry Deku into their side of the UA Alliance bathhouse (looks real nice btw) and give him a good power-wash.  The whole sequence is very comical!  The boys are rushing in and poor Deku has this O_O face on him like “what is happening?” 😂 We also see some of the boys butt naked 😳  It’s clear that Horikoshi had fun drawing this thing and it was fun to read 💚

Bakugo is with them of course and you can actually see his scars from when Shigaraki stabbed him.  He’s not bleeding, but you can see those scar patches on his skin.  I’m curious of how fan artist are going to draw him from now on.  I would like to see that fan art 👀

There’s also some bubble sfx coving Bakugo’s crotch and a translator said it might say dick or penis.  I’m curious what the officials will say.

But, Bakugo being Bakugo is still aggressive towards his classmates.  More playfully than before, but still.  He reminds everyone that he still intends on being the best there is and that everyone is still his rivals (also friends, Bakugo).  HE EVEN MAKES AN ATTEMPT TO CALL DEKU IZUKU!  LIKE HE ALMOST SAID “DEKU” BUT HE CHANGED IT TO IZUKU AT THE LAST MINUTE!  AND DEKU SAYS THAT CALLING HIM DEKU IS JUST FINE LIKE THAT ANGER THAT ORIGINATED FROM THE NICKNAME ISN’T THERE ANYMORE AND IT’S A FREINDLY NICKNAME BKDK FRIENDSHIP GROWTH YOU LOVE TO SEE IT 🧡💚  

After Deku’s bath, he’s sitting in the commons talking to the rest of Class 1-A.  Well, most of them.  Mina tells Deku that Ochako and a few other students went to bed after everything became ok again.  So, I definitely didn’t see Tsuyu, and it looks like Shoji, Aoyama, and Hagakare weren’t in this chapter either.  Ochako I understand; her speech must’ve been emotionally taxing.  Aoyama and Hagakare are the top suspects for being the traitor in the fandom and this isn’t helping their cases.  I don’t know about Tsuyu and Shoji though.  They’re both mutant-types, but characters like Ojiro or mutant-like people like Jiro, Mina or Tokoyami didn’t get outcasted.  Horikoshi did hint that Shoji would be getting something soon.  But, I really am just speculating here.

Now that Deku’s back, everyone has questions for him.  Though I understand why, this has gotta be overwhelming for Deku.  At least they’re not mad at him for hiding OFA.  They seem very understanding actually.

Then my ❄️🔥 boy, Shoto Todoroki, comes in all handsome right out of the baths 💙  He’s drying his right side while you can see a steam cloud on his left.  So, it is canon that Shoto drys himself naturally with his heat. His entrance is so pretty that even Mineta’s questioning it (shut up, Mineta, you’ll never be as beautiful as him).  And yes, I might be a Shoto simp, don’t judge me I see y’all too 👀

Anyway, Shoto asks everyone to let Deku sleep since that was pretty much the whole reason they brought him back.  Problem is, Deku can’t because he really needs to apologize to All Might for abandoning him.  AND AFTER HE SAYS THAT THERE’S A DETAILED PANEL OF SHOTO POINTING TO ALL MIGHT LIKE “UH, MIDORIYA? HE’S RIGHT THERE” AND ALL MIGHT LOOKING FROM THE WINDOW LIKE A HORROR VILLAIN WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE 😭

All Might comes in and apologizes to Deku for not being able to support him when he needed it, but Deku says that All Might support him more than enough.  Mina also scolds All Might for not saying anything when he left.  She wants All Might to apologize to everyone for that.  Though I’m glad Deku and All Might have reconciled (I honestly thought that last convo between them was going to be THE LAST for a hot minute), Mina has a point.  All Might did bail on all of them without any warning.  Kinda messed up in general.

All Might apologizes and he is going to fight with everyone regardless of his physical state so that he can see that flame continue to shine.  However, he warns the kids that they got info on the villains and that the final decisive battle is coming soon.  If the whole “Final Arc” thing hasn’t been hammered into your head, there you go.  I’m also glad that Stain’s speech did end up motivating All Might further.  Who knew?

So, All Might is off to help Endeavor since he’s got unfinished business to take care of.  But, the kids are wondering why Endeavor (and probably Hawks) isn’t entering UA entirely yet.  Shot reminds them that Endeavor is still connected to Dabi and that his presence alone would cause more discourse.  People’s minds can’t change that easily.  Shoto of all people would know.  

As Deku FINALLY SLEEPS 💤 and Shoto puts a blanket over him (possibly warmed by his left side 🔥) 💙💚 Shoto acknowledges how his presence might be making people anxious too even though it’s not his fault at all (thank you, Kirishima for doubling down on this btw ❤️🪨).  But, things are different and Shoto’s going to show that so that everyone can be at ease like he wants as a hero.  There’s even this sweet small smile on his beautiful face as he says this.  He’s grown so much and he’s pretty to boot I love him so much *HANDS IN FACE* 💙❄️🔥 

EVEN KIRISHIMA’S CRYING FROM HOW MANLY SHOTO IS I LOVE THESE KIDS!!!!

And now Jiro steps up and says her piece.  That she knows how hard it is to convince everyone to change their minds for the better.  Like with those two critics from the Culture Fest.  Even so, they accomplished this before, so she thinks they can do it again.  She even gathers all the band members to emphasize on this.  I love how Jiro uses her earphone jacks to rally the band and how she literally drags Bakugo by the shirt for a cute group shot.  None of these kids are afraid of Bakugo anymore LOL 😂!  Also, Momo is the tallest out of all of them in this line up shot (except for Bakugo who’s still being dragged on the ground).  I think she’s roughly 5ft 6-7 inches?  She’s the tallest of the girls I know that, but damn.  She towers all of them.  Even me...  She’s also very pretty in this shot and it’s her birthday as I’m posting this, so happy b-day Momo ❤️

And we get a beautiful panel of Jiro leading everyone to make sure that they’ll go beyond with making everything better than it was before.  We get a nice group shot of the rest of the class agreeing with her with a smile including Shoto with a small one (did I mention that I love him?) 💙💙💙 And Deku’s in the center still sleeping away.  I hope he has good dreams *kisses forehead*💚  And go Jiro for stepping up to the plate too 💜!  All these kids have grown so much.  There is a light at the end of the tunnel. 

Finally, the last pages show Endeavor, Hawks, and Best Jeanist going somewhere, maybe Tartarus.  They got info out of Dr. Ujiko via polygraph and the Nomu Research Group at Central Hospital.  They predict that they have 2 months until Shigaraki’s ready to go again, so they’ll need 1 month of preparation.  But, the info Stain gave All Might gave them more info.  His letter ended up being a personal letter to All Might (Stain really is that nuts...), but there was a microchip in the blade Stain left containing the security records from Tartarus.  It’s not stated how this info affected the mission at hand, but it sounds like it has to do something with the time frame.  So, I’m curious if they have less time to prepare or more?  Given how this is the Final Arc, Imma say less.

Finally, the teaser asks “How are the villains moving?”  I wonder if that means we’re switching to the villain’s next week.  I would love to hang out with the kids more, but I would also like to know what our villains are up to.  Like, where the hell is Himiko Toga?  Is Spinner still questioning shit?  What happened to Mr. Compress after he mauled himself to help Shigaraki and the others escape?  Also I think we need more info on this dude’s backstory given he’s the grandson of the famous Robin Hood villain who’s name definitely didn’t escape me... 😐  Is Dabi laughing his ass off from the utter chaos he started?  Is AFO still smiling like the evil mastermind he is?  Is Shigaraki as crispy as he was earlier?  I was going to ask about Twice but... 😭

So, yeah!  Love this chapter.  Really good transition chapter into whatever happens next.  I’m kinda sad we didn’t see Deku fight off more past villains during his vigilante days.  We got Muscular and Overhaul and I think that’s it?  Didn’t see any of Overhaul’s minions or that teeth-blade villain (Fish-something?; he broke out, but we haven’t seen him since) or Re-Destro or his goons.  I don’t count as Gentle or LaBrava as villains anymore and they were never truly evil to begin with.  Regardless, it was a really cool arc to see a more dark side of Deku.  I’m really glad Horikoshi made great use of his bunny hood and metal mask finally.  Deku really did look demonic for some time.  Also, seeing Deku badass is always a plus.  And seeing the deconstruction of hero society and the possible reconstruction of it was really good too.  Not everything is sunshine and rainbows, unfortunately, but we can do our best to make it that way.

I’m also glad that we finally got our kids back in top form.  Not just being heroes, but being teenagers too.  They all had great moments especially Iida, Ochako, and now Shoto as they should.  But, Bakugo’s apology was peak for me.  Over 320 chapters of development and build-up lead to that moment and it really is one of the best in the series.  It lives in my head rent free.

So, we got 1-2 months in-manga-time until what is probably the final battle of the series.  God, I can’t believe we’re actually nearing the end of this series.  I started reading it back in 2018 when shit was rough for me. I found this series after listening to the music and reading the hype around it.  I watched the show then I read the manga and it really helped me.  Saved me from a dark place actually.  I will miss this series when it’s done and I will be greatly for the joy Horikoshi has gifted us.  I’ll try to save the farewells for later.  I’d say this series has at least 1-1 1/2 years to go.

Me @ the kids and All Might:

[joontier]

Subliminal in Scrubs | V1; report vii

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, romance

warnings: FINALLY~ we get to see a little bit of JK’s pov heh 

word count: 2.4k

g/n: Send me your thoughts?

[taglist] @nottodayjjk @ditttiii​ @zeharilisharaban​ @btsbunny07​ @turquoiseandplaidinautumn  @aamxxrii @codeinebelle ​

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) |  navi. | m.list

“I hope you don’t mind us picking up a friend first then a drive thru afterwards... we did promise  someone a ride to the ceremony as well.” Chohee eyes Jungkook through the rear-view mirror. “Plus, we haven’t had any breakfast yet sooo…” Your new passenger uncharacteristically nods with unbridled enthusiasm. Huh.

“Totally not an issue at all. If you don’t mind, breakfast is on me,” he announces, sitting up a little straighter in his seat. You raise a freshly threaded eyebrow. There is no way this kid is actually offering to pay for your food. Jungkook clears his throat quietly, “Um...since you guys offered me a ride...you know…” 

Without even having to look at each other, you just know you and Chohee have similar smiles plastered on each of your faces. “Well,” Chohee makes a quick glance at the man seated at the back, “if you insist, Jungkook-ssi. How nice of you to do so.” 

You’re positive Jeon Jungkook will regret he even offered - in half an hour. Probably less. 

Just recently, Chohee has decided to relive an old hobby of hers: teasing you relentlessly with men clearly way out of your league until you actually end up investing much more time than intended (just as planned by Chohee) - until you come to the realization that there wasn’t going to be even the slightest chance of them even liking you back. End point is - you end up getting heartbroken for irrational reasons. 

Chohee, whose eyes sparkle with mirth with every mention of the Jimin, continues her teasing, despite your constant reminders to have her energy and time diverted to another subject, instead of poking her head through your currently non-existent love life. 

It’s an undisputed fact that Jimin is a cutie and quite the charmer, especially with his heroic deed of saving your sorry ass from getting your drinked spiked at the bar. However, there is a part of you that knows the slightest bit of infatuation you might feel or might have felt for Jimin was probably caused by the lack of interaction with men for the majority of your collegiate life. Of course, you always came back to your principles, that of which is prioritizing your career to shun love interests. 

Admittedly, you might have gotten distracted once, but you won’t ever let that happen again. 

In line with your best friend’s attempt to have you score a date and a boyfriend eventually, (her timeline, not yours!)Chohee had even gone so far as offering Jimin a ride to the oath taking ceremony that’s going to be held today at the Coex convention center at Gangnam. 

With Jimin’s apartment just a couple of blocks away from the gasoline station, you spot him right away when Chohee turns right into the corner. He’s stood by the entrance of his apartment building, looking effortlessly attractive as he scrolls through his phone while waiting. 

Chohee presses her fist lightly against the center of the wheel, the car emitting a soft honk to get Jimin’s attention. Jimin gives a curt wave in acknowledgment and reaches between his legs to grab his satchel. As soon as Jimin opens the car door, his head jolts slightly backward in surprise when he sees another passenger already inside. 

Chohee does the ice-breaker, introducing Jungkook to Jimin while she drives off. “Just before we got to your place, we had to fill the tank first and whaddya know? Met Jungkook at the gas station too! His bike broke down and I’ve offered him a ride - ergo, your new seatmate.” She adds a thumbs up. “Park Jimin, Jeon Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin.” 

Contrary to Chohee’s cheerful voice mere seconds ago, awkward silence ensues after the two men bow to each other in greeting. The only subject of sanity the car was holding onto was the soft voice of Chohee’s navigation app coming from her phone on the dashboard. 

Why was it so hard to talk when you’ve all got at least a few things in common? 

Right, maybe it’s the fact that Jimin may or may not have known about your beef with Jeon Jungkook. Chohee’s doing, obviously. 

Thankfully, you spot a Burger King joint along the way and propose getting a greasy breakfast instead of looking for other options. There are murmurs of agreement heard in the suddenly cramped space of your best friend’s car. “Jungkook-ssi, breakfast still on you, yeah?” Chohee asks, joining the queue. 

“Uh…yeah-” 

“Perfect! Just making sure because _________ and I are famished!” Okay - that wasn’t exactly the word you were looking for, but if it gets you the free meal, then you’re absolutely ravenous. Chohee’s eyes briefly pass yours before sending a wink in Jungkook’s direction. “How ‘bout you Jimin-ssi? You hungry?” 

He looks at you, then Chohee, then at Jungkook. “I’m fine, I’m not hungry.” You see Jungkook trying painfully hard to not let his eyes dart around too much. Just then,  a low rumble erupts from Jimin’s stomach. Woops. Your brain can dictate your emotions but tummy would never lie outright. 

“Jimin-ssi!” Jungkook clasps a hand on the blond’s shoulder. “It’s fine! Breakfast is on me. Order up, bro!” 

With Jimin still looking hesitant, Jungkook decides to add a little fairy dust to his encouragement, “think of it as a mini celebration of us finally getting to be licensed doctors in a few hours!” Jimin gives in with very evident reluctance, even offering to pay for the whole group instead at one point. 

Your swear you see hesitation cross Jungkook’s eyes briefly, but you’re glad he’s a man of honor, even if it be for this particular instance only, firmly dismissing Jimin’s proposal. Which is perfect, honestly, because  this time you get a chance at revenge and a very hearty breakfast. 

“No crumbs on the floor, please!” 

From the backseat, you see Jungkook eyeing your paper bags on yours and Chohee’s laps, face stoic as ever. Emphasis on bags. A little more concentration and Jungkook can pretty much send lasers blasting through his eyes with the way he’s scrutinizing your orders. 

As shameless as it sounds, you and Chohee were never ones to back out of a free meal - and make the most out of it, especially when one had offered so nicely. So imagine Jungkook’s reaction when he and Jimin only got a Whopper meal and you and Chohee get upgraded full meals. 

“Doesn’t seem like we’re the ones who should be worrying about crumbs…” Jungkook mutters, taking a bite of his fry that’s a little too harsh for a slice of a poor fried potato. 

“You say something Jungkook?” Chohee queries, unabashedly letting out a small burp after taking a sip of her chocolate flavored milkshake. Bowing his head, Jimin tries to hide his smile as he takes a bite of his burger. You decide to step in, wanting to add a little more MSG to your breakfast menu this fine morning. 

“Hey Chee, heard of the news last Monday? There had been recent occurrences of drivers kicking out their passengers in the middle of the expressway, especially this road in particular… talk about some zombie apocalypse shenanigans...I wonder why though…” 

Jungkook clears his throat, addressing you this time. “Your strawberry milkshake...good, yeah?” With cheeks flushed, Jungkook dares not to look forward, murmuring his regrets over ordering more food next time. 

You nod with genuine gusto, throwing him an additional thumbs-up, which only causes Jungkook to sulk slightly in his seat. You eat the rest of your food with a bright smile. Ah, free food - what else is there to say? 

“If I do not violate this oath, may I enjoy life and art, respected while I live and remembered with affection thereafter. May I always act so as to preserve the finest traditions of my calling and may I long experience the joy of healing those who seek my help.” 

After reading the Hippocratic oath, the newly declared licensed medical doctors collectively put their hands down and take their seats. There is an immediate sense of fulfillment heavy in the air. Nobody can blame them - not when one has gruelled through six years of medical school. 

Jungkook inhales deeply, yet he still feels like he’s out of breath. 

He draws in another long one, savoring each second of exhale afterwards. From his peripheral vision, Jungkook watches you as you wave endlessly to the someone on the far right where the family and relatives are seated. Though he can’t see much from afar, with the way your hands are moving slower by the second, he figures you’ve already managed to catch the attention of whoever it is you were waving at. 

Jungkook diverts his eyes somewhere else, eventually landing on the stage where he sees his own father, standing behind the podium as he gives - what people beside him would consider - a ‘motivational’ speech in front of all the new doctors of Korea. 

He wonders if he could even see him, if he knew that his own son actually made it through college, if he realized that they were under the same roof at this very moment - an occurrence he never thought would happen again. 

Jungkook reverts his eyes back to you, watching you in secret as you talk to yourself while trying to address someone else. So you were waving to your parents after all. Cute. The man couldn’t fight back the small smile etching onto his face.  

He was happy for you - a genuine statement, even though majority, if not all, your encounters consist of you both bickering like small kids… And yet, he can’t deny the strong feeling of envy brewing at his heart, knowing that he could never have the same type of interaction you had with your parents, with how tight you all seem. 

Jungkook felt sick. Even though you ordered twice as much as he did, he felt like throwing up. He wanted this ceremony to be over with already.

Much to Jungkook’s relief, the program ends shortly after that. Excited to greet and congratulate the new batch of doctors, people from all sides of the venue rush to the entrance. With literally nowhere else to go, Jungkook decides to follow you through the crowd, in the hopes that you’ll lead him to Chohee and Jimin so he could properly thank them for the ride and he could be on his way. 

He’s surprised to not see you the least bothered by it, but then again, the convention center is packed with both the oath-takers and their relatives, so you might have really not known that he’s been following you all along. 

Like usual, it’s Chohee who notices him first. This girl is everywhere, all the time. 

“Jungkook, you’re here!” 

Chohee's acknowledgement of his presence causes you to turn in your heel quickly to verify it. You stare at him briefly, opening your mouth as if to say something when someone calls out your name.  “Mom!! Dad!!” 

Your English call causes a few onlookers and Jungkook recalls somebody once pointing out that you were a foreigner - and that you were also the first one to finish at the top of the class at SNU. 

With Chohee’s parents tailing yours, they rush to their own daughter, congratulating her with a hug and a cute bouquet of tulips. As Jimin appears with his own party not too long afterwards, Jungkook figures it’s his cue to leave. At this rate, none of you would have noticed if he actually left. 

Just as Jungkook was about to take off, a small hand grabs his wrist. You’re looking up at him and he swears he sees your lips curve upward a little before dragging him back to your little group. Stunned as ever, Jungkook wonders if he hinted on a little bit of concern in your features… and you smiled at him! For the first time! At least that’s what he thought he saw. 

Admittedly, all interactions between you and him were not the most friendly. Jungkook knew he acted like a dick a couple of times, but it’s the only way he knows that might allow you to lower your guard because the only thing he was certain of was that you get worked up every time you see him. 

Regardless of whether or not it really was a smile, Jungkook finds himself standing in the midst of this gathering of some sort. “Moms, Dads, this is Jeon Jungkook and Park Jimin.” 

The moms suddenly gush over them, while their fathers eye the two younger men warily. “Are you?… you’re not…” Chohee’s mother nudges her husband a little too obviously. “If they are, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, would it?” she grits, a bright smile plastered on her face. Jungkook wanted to laugh at the uncanny resemblance with her daughter. 

“Oh what young fine men you are! Mrs. Park, you must be very proud of your son!” Your mother exclaims, resting her cheek on her palm. “But Jungkook-ssi, your parents must be lost then… my husband and I couldn’t figure out how this whole convention center works either…” 

Jungkook shakes his head slowly, lips pursed. “Oh. Um, my parents won’t make it today. They’re very busy people…” Jungkook drags his words, hoping they’ll drop the subject. 

Well, they did, but there was an inevitable pregnant pause after that - one which Jungkook was avoiding in the first place. Chohee’s mother clasps her hands together, breaking the awkward tension. “Uh - would you like to join us then? A little celebration for a memorable day?” 

Jungkook bows his head curtly and declines the offer. He wanted to, but he knows it’ll only do more damage to the wound. “It’s okay, Ma’am. I still have quite a lot of things to do today, like getting my motorcycle fixed.” Jungkook nods to Chohee and the girl briefly recalls how they got to the venue together. 

Jungkook doesn’t take long after that, bidding his goodbye to everyone and thanking Chohee for the ride that morning. “Well, I’ll be going now. __________-ssi, Chohee-ssi, Jimin-ssi, guess I’ll….see you when I see you.” 

“See you when we see you then,” you reply and Jungkook swears it’s an actual smile on your face this time. He returns the action and gets on his way, hoping that he really does get to see you all another time.

© joontier 2021

[thiswasinevitableid]

94 for sternclay for the winter prompts??? Especially if trans stern because I love that for him:’) either nsfw or sfw, hope you have a wonderful day!!!!! Your writing is a gift

Thank you so much!  I went with NSFW, and Stern is indeed trans.

94. you overhear my ex mocking me for being single at a holiday party and introduce yourself as my SO with a kiss on the cheek but we’ve never spoken before 

The things he does to pay for culinary school. 

It’s not the catering gig that’s bothering him; he takes pride in making food at conferences and office parties better than expected. It’s the fucking red, white, and green uniforms they’re making them wear for this one. It’s hot, itchy, and he really would prefer to wear the winter sweater Thacker gave him last year. It’s rustic but festive. It’s also sitting in his car, because no one told him about these uniforms until he got here. 

You can’t spring a surprise uniform on a guy who’s 6’4 and 190 pounds. The vest digs into his stomach, the jacket is too tight, and the pants don’t cover his ankles. 

It’s too bad, this party is pretty fun to work. It’s for a big-name publisher looking to seem hip, so the band is good and the decorations don’t look like the Macy’s Parade puked all over the room. 

The meals aren’t sit down, more a five hour cocktail party with canapes on trays and a spread of food at the back. Barclay sets out a new plate of crostini, wondering if they have enough fruit for the evening, when someone taps his shoulder. 

“How can I help-”

“I need a refill.” James, his ex, smirks at him.

“Not the bartender.” Barclay picks up the empty tray. 

“So?”

“I stopped being the guy to refill your drinks when you dumped me. Go ask whatever poor sap you dragged to this to do it for you.”

“Poor sap? Barclay, you sound like one of those boring mysteries you always read.”

“I’m trying not to swear, I’m at work.”

“Too bad you left me-”

“You broke up with me”

“-You could be enjoying the party instead of serving lukewarm food in a ridiculous outfit. Then again, looking like a clown suits you.”

“Man, c’mon.” Barclay can’t get into it here, James is absolutely the kind of guy who will use it to get him fired.

“Not surprised you haven’t found someone who wants to put up with your whole puppy-dog routine. What good is all that bulk if you’re just a pus-”

“There you are.” An arm snakes around Barclays waist and he freezes. James stands up straight, plastering on a smile.

“I wish I’d know ahead of time this is where you were working tonight. It feels wrong to be out mingling when you’re stuck back here. Oh well, next year.” A soft kiss lands on his cheek and in his surprise he turns to look at it’s source. 

The man is almost his height, trimmer and dressed in a black suit with a blue and silver tie. He’s blue eyed, with jet black hair slicked back and a face that puts every movie star Barclay can name to shame.

Barclay has no fucking clue who he is, or if he’s mistaking Barclay for someone else. He doesn’t seem drunk enough for that. 

“Mr. Stern, it’s an honor to meet you, I, uh, this-”

“This must be the ex you told me about, right, big guy?” Mr. Stern sets a protective hand at the small of his back.

“Uh, yeah. Babe, this is James.”

“So, where at Penguin do you work?”

“I, um, oh, look, someone is calling me. Bye, Barclay, nice seeing you again.”

The hand doesn't leave his back until James is out of sight.

“I’m sorry. He was harassing you and that seemed like the fastest way to make him stop.” Mr. Stern is still standing proud, but his voice is now softer, almost shy. 

“That’s, uh, that’s totally fine. I really appreciate the help. Kinda surprise you saw flirting as more appealing than, like, pretending to be my boss or something.”

“He’d know I wasn’t, trust me. And don’t sell yourself short, Barclay.” Blue eyes lock onto him and scan all the way to his feet, “even a bad fitting uniform can’t hide what you have you offer.”

“Th-thanks.” He’s either going to hide behind the serving tray or ask this guy to take him home and he’s not sure which will reinforce Jame’s “puppy dog” taunt more.

The other man, sensing his discomfort, steps back, “Sorry, that was inappropriate. I know better than to flirt with someone who’s at work and can’t escape. I shouldn’t keep you from doing what you need to do.”

“I get off at nine.” He thwacks the tray over his mouth, “ow. Uh, and I don’t mind talking to you. If you want to. I, uh, I don’t want you to feel like you have to spend this whole party chatting with the help instead of having fun.”

A sigh, “I should go mingle. It’s really okay if I come back?”

“Yeah.” Barclay smiles. There’s no way this guy is coming back; if he’s here single, he’ll have a date in the next five minutes. 

Fifteen minutes later, he’s standing a respectful distance away and asking Barclay how this compares to other parties he’s worked.  

“Middle-ground. It’s not the one time I got to work my friends art gallery opening, and it’s not the wedding where someone tried to deck the bride with the chocolate fountain.”

“Oh my lord.” 

“I was in the line of fire and was washing chocolate out of my beard for an hour.”

“No one at home to do it for you?” It’s not subtle, and nor is the glance he gets over the rim of a cocktail glass. 

“Some things I’d rather not ask Mama’s help on.” 

“You still live with family?” There’s no judgement in that smooth voice, just genuine curiosity.

“Oh, no, Mama’s my...I mean she’s technically my boss but she’s also my friend, almost like an older sister. I live above where I work because she owns the whole building and takes in staff rent-free when she can. It’s nice working at her place, since I can cut my hours doing this.” He gestures to the nearby table of season fare, “which does mean I missed the attempted kabob-maiming last week. Relatedly, I’m happy this isn’t an all you can drink party.”

“You and me both. Two years ago Dean Koontz threw a punch. I think it was--oh, um, excuse me, work calls.”

This time, Barclay allows himself a moment of ogling as Stern walks away.

They pick up where they left off when the other man comes back, leading Barclay to mention he’s a cook at Amnesty Lodge .

“Wait, really? I love the Lodge, the food there is incredible.”

Barclay’s skin matches his terrible red pants, “Thanks. The head chef has been letting me do more of the menu and I’m really proud of it.”

“You should be. It’s perfect, although it’s a pity you being in the kitchen means I haven’t seen you sooner.”

He tries to say thank you again, but it comes out a garbled squeak

“Was that too far?”  

“Nope. Uh, it’s uh, just that I’m out of practice flirting or, like, getting compliments. They were pretty thin on the ground in my last relationship.”

“I see.” He’s learning to watch Stern’s eyes rather than the rest of his face, which hardly ever changes from it’s calm, professional set. Said eyes drip with disapproval. 

Old habits of defending people--even ones who are dicks to him--kicks in, “I mean, he kind of has a point. No one wants to date a six foot puppy. Guys like me are supposed to be all in-charge and shit like that.”

Stern raises an eyebrow, “maybe you’re looking in the wrong places.”

“Got any ideas on where I, uh, should be looking?” He takes a half-step towards Stern, standing up straighter. Stern doesn’t move an inch, but gives him a proud smirk. The pride is directed at Barclay.

“Lots. And I’ll share them as soon as you’re off the clock.”

“Don’t I even get a hint?” Another step.

“No, Barclay, you don’t. You’ll just have to show me you can be patient.” His tone changes, laced with the promise of a hidden prize that Barclay will do anything to earn. 

He just manages to whisper out “okay” as Stern is called away again. When he comes back, Barclay setting out clean plates and more silverware. They talk about restaurants, about Barclay’s friends and all the ways he tries to help them. Barclay endeavors to not go into full begging mode in public by looking at Sterns wrists rather than literally anywhere else on his body.

“What are those things in your cufflinks?”

“The Hodag. It’s a cryptid from Northern Wisconsin, and a really excellent example of completely fabricated cryptid that nevertheless goes on to have a life of it’s own. It’s very common in small towns, since if it goes well it acts a tourist draw. In fact, there’s some indication that even the Loch Ness Monster began as just such a hoax and-” He snaps his mouth shut, clears his throat, “sorry, I try not to talk shop at these things. It, um, tends to get on people’s nerves.”

“But I wanted to hear the rest. I mean, I have a high info-dumping tolerance because of one of my friends, but also you clearly know your stuff and I have no clue about any of it so please keep talking?”

Stern’s face is full of excitement, and he grows more animated as he talks. It’s the cutest goddamn thing Barclay’s ever seen, and he saw Dr. Harris Bonkers, his friend’s rabbit, as a baby bunny in a bow-tie. 

He clocks out two minutes after nine, and Stern is waiting for him near the doors to the staging room. 

“Are those the only clothes you have with you?”

“No. I have nicer stuff in the car that I planned on wearing.”

“Go get it. Here, I’ll walk down with you so you won’t have trouble getting back in the building.”

After jogging to his car while Stern waits for him in the gold and silver tinseled lobby, the older man guides him to an elevator. He’s pretty sure Stern is older than him; he’s a big deal, but not in some sort of prodigy way, which means he needed some time to get so well-known. 

They’re so busy coming up with Cryptid-themed ice cream flavors that Barclay doesn’t notice the floor number until they step out into a darkened hall.

If Stern brought him up here so they could have a quick fuck, he’ll jump for joy. 

“My office is this way. I figure you might like changing not in front of your co-workers or in a bathroom.”

Damn it, why does he have to be considerate instead of horny?

The office Stern brings him to is modestly sized with a huge bank of windows on the one side, facing out over the city. From here he can see apartments, stores, restaurants, all lit up in festive colors, trees dotting the little boxes of light. 

Stern locks the door, leans back against it, and nods at the clothes in Barclays arms, “Put them on.”

“Here?” He eyes the wide windows, the fact that the other man makes no move to leave or turn around.

“Yes.”

He manages, around the heart trying to hammer up his throat, “Are, uh, are you gonna watch?”

“Do you want me too?” There it is, the immediate softness in his voice, and Barclay understands that if he says no, he’ll have his privacy.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He reaches for the vest, gets the first button and goes for the second in a hurry. 

Stern raises his hand in a ‘pause’ gesture, “Slow down.”

“Yes, yes Mr. Stern.”

A gentle laugh, “Not quite, big guy. Were we anywhere else, I’d tell you to call me Joseph. But here..” he tucks his hands casually into his front pockets, “here you call me sir.”

“Fuck”  Barclay battles himself to keep his pace slow, needing to be good but also so turned on he’s afraid he’ll start humping the furniture. He forces himself to wait a count of two between each button, gets his vest and shirt off without further instruction. Stern watches him the entire time in silent appreciation. His shoes and pants are more awkward to take off while standing, and he braces himself on the desk, not wanting to sit without permission. 

Then he’s standing there in nothing but his black boxers and the lights of town, laughter floating from the party while Stern studies him like a menu. 

“Fold every and set it on the chair.” 

He follows orders, boggles at getting hard from someone telling him to fold laundry. Jesus, Stern hasn’t even touched him. Is he even planning to? Barclay can’t decide which option he likes better. He returns to his spot in front of the desk, hands folded in front of him. 

“Should I, uh, get dressed, sir?”

Stern pushes off the door, walking casually over like a shopper regarding a display, “That depends; do you want to do back to the party with your cock hard enough to hammer nails?”  He glances down, then back up with a pointed stare. 

“N-not really.”

Stern raises an eyebrow. 

“Not really, sir.”

“Then we’ll have to do something about it.”

“Are you sure we should do it here?”

“Barclay, if we get caught, I’ll be twice as mortified as you. I’m only doing this because we’ve got this whole floor to ourselves.” He cups Barclay’s cheek and the sighs, rubbing his face against a warm palm. 

“Okay sir, I trust you.”

A moan curls up between them as Stern’s other hand runs along his chest.

“Good boy. You like to be good, don’t you, Barclay? You like taking care of people?” 

“Yes, so much sir, please, lemme be good to you.”

Joseph strokes his face, “That’s very thoughtful, Barclay. But I think it’s been awhile since someone took care of you. Would you like me to do that?”

“Please, sir.” The response is pulled from him, one of the many parts of him aching magnetically to be near to Stern. 

The other man shoves his right hand down Barclays boxers, sliding his thumb over the head once before stroking steadily up and down. 

“Holy fuck” Stern gasps, “a guy could have a lot of fun with this thing.”

“It’s all yours, sir.” 

Fuck, where did that come from?

Stern groans, tips his head to kiss across Barclays chest, murmuring as he does, “Is that what you want, Barclay? You want this” he speeds up until Barclay’s hands fly to the edge of the desk, keeping him from dropping to the floor, “to be mine?”

He whines, nodding.

Stern’s hand stops.

“Yessir”

It starts up again, “what else do you want, big guy?” He’s still kissing all over his upper body, tone nonchalant.

“You, sir, I wanna fuck you or, or you can fuUUUck me if you want, not very good at bottoming-”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Stern lightly pinches his nipple, “what else?”

“I want to blow you, and, and FUCK, I bet you’re a fucking great kisser and I want you to fucking boss me around as much as you want, wanna wear a collar, a blue one, ohfuck” Barclay scrapes his nails along the woodgrain, “fuck, sorry, that was weird-”

“No, say more” his grip tightens and to Barclay’s surprise he’s panting, “tell me everything you want, even it’s got nothing to do with sex.”

“I want, fuck, to be tied up and told how good I am, want to wear something stealth sexy out in public, want to fuck in a cabin” his mouth is fully ahead of his mind, which is concentrated entirely in his dick right now, “want to eat at every five star place in the city, want to drag you places by that fancy tie, have a new car, buy any cookbook I see, I want, oh fuckohfuck, sir, I wanna cum please, want to so bad.”

“You can cum whenever you like, big guy. But you have to kiss me while you d-” 

He cuts Stern off with a kiss, clinging to his shoulders and pouring desperate, deep sounds down his throat. Stern kisses back with precision and a pleased moan when Barclay cums in his boxers. 

Stern eases his hand out and Barclay flops against him, face buried in his neck as he rumbles out a thank you. 

“D-do you want me to blow you, sir?”

Stern kisses below his ear, “Yes, but that’s not doable right now. Unlike you, I don't have a change of clothes, and something tells me you’re a, um,” he bites Barclays ear, “messy eater.”

“Only when I’m enjoying myself, sir.” 

“You don’t have to keep calling me that, unless it helps you come down.”

“I’m okay, Joseph. Heh” he smiles, inhales a minty cologne, “I like that name. It’s classic.”

“Thanks, I picked it myself.”

Barclay chuckles, snuggles closer while ignoring the sticky underwear. 

“You know, I can give you everything you want. If you want me to.”

“Some of those are really fucking expensive, babe.”

“You really have no clue who I am, do you?” Stern steps back, moving to the other side of the desk and pulling out a packet of wet-wipes, sliding one across to Barclay before cleaning his hands.

“A really cute guy who should let me take him to dinner?” Barclay pulls down his underwear to clean the cum from his stomach.

“Ever heard of Lucky Park?”

“No fucking way. I man, I know it’s a pen name, but there’s no fucking way, a guy who’s never off the NYT Bestseller list wouldn't fuck a nobody cook.”

“If the cook was hot and interesting to talk to he would. The kitchen skills help a little.” Stern winks

“But you wrote The Peregrine Quintent,  and Red Dust, jesus christ your stuff has been movies.”

“Now you see why James was so startled; I’m Penguins golden goose. That’s why I even have time to write books on cryptids; they know to indulge me. Plus I put out at least a book every two years for them and it always makes a fortune. Do you need to sit down? You look kind of lightheaded.”

“I’m fine, uh, just trying to make sense of it all. Also I can’t sit down unless you want my bare ass on your chair.”

“Another time. I guess you’re going commando for the rest of the party, but I think you can handle it, big guy.”

“Yeah, absolutely.” He grabs his pants and pulls them on, “holy fuck, this can’t be real, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Barclay” Stern touches his arm, “it absolutely makes sense. I had so much fun talking with you, you’re such a, um, a sweetheart. And you’re built like a wet dream. If, um, if this is too much too soon, tell me to back off but I, I’m serious. I can’t remember the last time I got butterflies like this around someone, or wanted to buy things or do things just to make them smile. You clearly look after so many people in your life; will you let me look after you, at least for a little while?”

“You really want to?”

“Unlike some people, I like big men with a gentle center. You can be my six foot puppy any time. Wait, hold on, that, um, that came out weird.” Stern giggles and Barclay, now dressed, pulls him into a kiss. 

“I get it, babe. You wanna go show me off?”

“Of course. I’ll get my camera ready; we have to record your exes reaction.” Stern kisses his cheek, “after all, maybe this will teach him to know a good man when he sees one.”

[sabraeal]

Seven Swipes for Shirayuki, Chapter 1

Prologue

Obiyuki AU Bingo Medical Drama AU

Here it is guys, the modern AU version of Seven Suitors for Shirayuki that you all asked for and I thought I would never really write. Obviously the chapters for this will not be 1:1 with parallel content-- I think we ALL would like to avoid another Chapter 6-- but here at least is the beginning of what I’m sure will be a stupidly long journey.

Plink. Plink. Plink plink plink--

“You know.” Shirayuki sets her hands flat against the keyboard, the surest way to keep them from becoming fists. “I really don’t think the janitorial staff will appreciate having to get those down.”

Obi turns wide eyes on her, striving for an air of innocence she doubts he’s possessed since long before his voice dropped. “What do you men, Miss?”

He twirls a pen between his long fingers-- cheap ones, little blue Bics that hardly scratch out a solid line since the hospital cut down on frivolous spending-- and flicks his wrist. It flies unerringly upward, lodging itself firmly in the particleboard of the ceiling.

At least it won’t be lonely with all its friends to keep it company. “They can’t just leave those up there, Obi. It’s probably a fire hazard.”

At least, she thinks so. Considering how EHS feels about anything being on the floor besides furniture and feet, she can only imagine they have strong opinions on ceilings too.

Obi scoffs, languidly kicking his legs over the arm of his chair. Anyone else would look ridiculous, but with his long limbs and cunningly tailored suit, Obi just looks dangerous, like a panther behind glass.

“Don’t worry, Miss.” Another projectile unerringly hits its mark. “They’ll come down on their own.”

Her mouth flirts heavily with a frown. “So I can look forward to a pile of pens on my floor next Monday?”

“Nah.” Teeth flash between his lips. “It’ll be all cleaned up before you get here.”

Shirayuki stifles a sigh, turning her attention back to her notes. Exasperation only encourages him. “I’ll be done soon. If you want you can wait in the hall--”

“Miss.” He presses a hand to his chest, affronted. “Would I ever leave your side? What if something happened to you while there was this one, flimsy door between us? What would Master--”

“Don’t let Zen catch you calling him that.”

“--even do to me if some terrible fate befell you while I turned away for just one moment?” He blinks, far too innocent to be earnest. “You wound me, Miss.”

She lets out a huff, flyaways fanning out around her face. “Considering how many bags of Funyuns you’ve fished out of the vending machine the past year, I think it’s safe to say that nothing will happen to me if you choose to harass Higata down at the nurse’s station instead of me.”

His smile sits stiffly on his lips, pen stilling between his fingers. “It did happen, once.”

Her heart gives a single, loud pound in her chest. “Obi--”

“Anyway.” His smile slides into a smirk, sitting more comfortably on his face. “We’re back on days after this, aren’t we?”

Her fingers roll back into their rhythm, keys tacking pleasantly beneath them. “For a little while at least. Why, do you have exciting plans?”

“Miss.” His expression wilts like a plant left in the maintenance closet. “That’s what I’m asking you.”

She blinks. The answer is simple: lounge around in her scrubs-turned-lounge wear and catch up on The Great British Baking Show while eating a staggering amount of Thai food. But he should know that; it’s what she does every weekend after she’s been on nights, and he’s usually right there beside her, making inappropriate comments about Paul Hollywood’s piercing eyes and speculating if he comes by the last name honestly or whether he had a stint in the adult film industry.

(”It’s the future, you know.” She waggles his smart phone; hers is still in her bedroom. As nice a gesture as it was from Zen, she’s never quite gotten used to keeping it on her. “We could just google it.”

“No.” He turns to her, affronted. “I appreciate the thought, Miss, but there are some things you don’t google.”

She arches a brow, tucking her feet under his butt on the cushion. He lets out a put-upon grunt, but allows it. “You just don’t want to find out it’s some old, perfectly respectable English last name.”

“It’s not that,” he snips as Netflix rolls through to the next episode, promising nun-shaped pastries. “Knowing things ruins the mystique.”)

“I mean,” he sighs, “are you going out with the boss?”

“Oh!” She stares, helpless. “I don’t...know? He hasn’t said anything to me.” She gives the keyboard a few cursory pecks before asking, “Has he said anything to you?”

His expression only falls flatter. “Has he said anything to me about your theoretical romantic plans?”

Her cheeks prickle, the sure sign that a blush is starting to dawn. “Well, you usually know before me!”

“I...wish I could say that isn’t true,” he sighs, rolling until he’s sitting properly in his seat-- or at least, as properly as Obi ever does, slouched so low that his chin is level with the ankle crossed over his knee. “But it is. And no, I haven’t...heard of any plans.”

“There you have it.” She waves a hand and turns back to her work. “No plans. Just us, some Thai, and a bunch of decorative but delicious meat pies.”

“And Paul Hollywood’s piercing eyes,” he says with more relish than anyone should. “But you’re all right with that?”

“What? Of course.” She shrugs, clicking down to the last field. “He’ll call if he has time. And if not, there’s always next week.”

Obi arches an undeservedly dubious brow, in her opinion. “Next week?”

“Sure.” She barely pauses as she says, “Zen’s a busy man. And I’m a busy lady! I don’t need to see him every weekend. Or every week!”

“Right,” he huffs, “but you, you know, presumably would want to see him more than you did when we lived three thousand miles away.”

“Obi.” Shirayuki shoots him a warning look. “We see each other plenty, and certainly more than every six months--”

“Ten months.”

“Fine, ten months.” She shrugs, gazing fixing back onto her screen. “Still. We saw each other just last week.”

He blinks. “Last week?”

“Yes, last Saturday.” She tilts her chin up, chuffed she’s remembered it. “We went to the Getty Center to see the Monet exhibit.”

“Miss.” His mouth twitches. “That was three weeks ago, and you were bored out of your mind.”

Her jaw drops. “I-- I was not!”

“You kept calling him Manet, blamed it on your Portland ‘accent’--” Obi does some vigorous finger quotes she does not appreciate-- “when the curator corrected you, excused yourself halfway through and then speculated whether drowning was a peaceful death while we stared out at the Pacific.”

Her lips pull thin, and she pointedly shifts her attention back to the screen. “I need to finish this.”

Obi raises his brows, rucking up the silvery slash above his eye. “You were bored.”

“I’m not the biggest fan of art, no.” Her fingers hesitate above the keys. “Three weeks?”

He nods. “Three weeks.”

She grimaces. “All right, let me just get the notes for this discharge written up for Garrack, and we can head out.”

“Oh, the discharge?” Obi’s looking far too pleased with himself. “You mean the ultrasound girl?”

“Yes?” His sudden interest is unnerving, to say the least. “Third trimester pregnancy, lots of blood and cramping, thought she was losing the baby, ended up just having a ruptured luteal cyst.” She stares at him, brows drawing down in confusion. “Did Ryuu tell you about it?”

“Mm-hm.” If it was possible to look like those little mischievous kitty emojis he sends her, he’d be doing it now. “And that you held her hand through the whole sonogram dealie.”

“Well, yes. No one was with her.” The girl had been so pale she nearly matched the sheets. “I wasn’t going to let her find out she had a stillbirth by herself. That’s just cruel.”

His eyes melt from gold to amber. “Of course you wouldn’t, Miss.” In a breath that softness is gone, replaced by his Cheshire Cat grin. “But are you sure that’s all?”

“W-what else would it be?”

“Ryuu said you were very interested in that baby on the screen.”

“I’m an obstetrician, Obi--”

“No need to deny it, Miss,” he assures her. “I understand completely. After all, some of that may be in the cards for you, soon.”

Shirayuki stares at him. “A luteal cyst?”

Obi heaves a sigh. “No, Miss! Maybe you have--” he waggles his narrow brows-- “baby fever.”

“What?”

“It’s only to be expected, after all,” he says with a shrug, as if this were a done deal. “You and Master have been together for six years.”

Shirayuki nearly balks, nearly suggests that he takes a walk down to the pediatrics ward and ask to check out their number line--

Until she does some mental math of her own. It has been six years. “But I-- but we-- we haven’t--”

Obi’s brows lift in a terrible cross between amusement and curiosity. “You have talked about this, haven’t you?”

They most definitely have not, which didn’t seem like an oversight until just this moment, and now--

“Shirayuki.”

She jumps, eyes darting to the door. “Dr Gazalt! I didn’t-- I didn’t expect you.”

Garrack blinks, brows raising. “Yes, me. The one who is waiting for your shift notes. Higata tells me there’s a discharge I have to sign for?”

“Oh, yes. I--” she glances at the empty notes field-- “I’ll get that done right away. I was just, ah, finishing up now.”

“Hm,” Garrack grunts, gaze shifting to where Obi is contorted in his chair. “I can’t imagine what’s keeping you.”

“Why, Chief,” he gasps, pressing a hand to his chest. “You can’t possibly think I was being anything but the most helpful for Doctor--”

“Oh, I know what you were being.” There’s a twitch at the corner of her mouth, and a spark in her eye as she reveals, “A nuisance.”

“Chief.”

“I’ll be done in a minute!” Shirayuki interjects, too shrill. Both of them turn to her, brows raised mildly, and she adds, “Just, ah, give me some quiet.”

“You heard the lady, big boy.” Garrack grins. “Looks like you’ll be shadowing me.”

Obi’s expression rings with alarm. “Oh, I think I’m supposed to--”

“Oh no, you’re not escaping this time.” She reaches in, getting a good grip on his tie, and tugs. “I got some heavy things that need to be lifted.”

save me pls Miss

I’m almost done

Miss she wants me to help rearrange the stock room PLS hurry

Five minutes

im wasting away i can feel the life leaving my body

We’ll get breakfast This will go faster if you stop interrupting me

the angels are calling me home theres a light at the end of the tunnel Miss

Walk towards it This is probably your only chance at heaven

M I S S

It’s no use, Obi. I may be an optimist, but I’ve seen your search history

Touche

It’s not until she’s in the elevator that it hits her: she’s forgotten something.

Her brain is, as usual, coy with the rest of the information. Did she forget something important on her report? Did she leave her keys back on her desk? Does she have some appointment this evening that will keep her from getting confused every time someone says biscuit in the tent?

Nothing comes to mind, the answer hanging frustratingly out of reach. She’d have better luck trying to get Obi to talk about his past than she will trying to brute force this memory.

Shirayuki sighs. Time to check everything.

She’s wearing clothes-- check. They’re not her scrubs-- also check. Shoes match-- double check.

Her hand sweeps into her purse. Keys-- ouch, yep, check. Wallet-- check. Phone--

Buzzes hard against her palm.

Shirayuki blinks. It’s quick, only lasting a beat before it stops. Just a text, but-- it’s eight in the morning. Even with all her early-rising, day-shift doctor friends, this is well before their first morning coffee has kicked in. This is--

Weird. Worryingly weird. She drags the phone out of her bag, waking the screen to be greeted with 12 MISSED CALLS.

Shirayuki stares. That can’t be right. She’s kept her phone on her all shift, only tossing it into her bag when she’d stopped by her office to log her notes. There’s no way she’s had that many calls in an hour. And texts--

Well, that number is staggering. Her screen shows only the last one, a very cheerful, ill kill him and hide the body so well hell get famous as cold case from Yuzuri. She grimaces. Whatever Suzu’s done now, he’ll spend the whole day regretting it.

Well, that’s not exactly fair. It could be Kazaha, or even Shidan if he’d made her work down in the pharmacy hard enough. But...

It’s definitely Suzu.

She traces the appropriate squiggle onto her phone to open it and her homescreen unfurls before her. Her thumb hovers right above the little speech bubble--

A bright ding lets her know she’s arrived at ground level, and the entirely unamused bodyguard leaning against the doors lets her know that she’s late.

“Well,” she says, tipping the phone back into her bag. “You’re looking...hale?”

“I was promised breakfast,” he reminds her in a pleasant, if displeased rumble. “This is a thing that is happening.”

She makes sure to infuse some extra bounce into her step as she exits the elevator, earning a weary scowl. “Doctor Gazalt must have worked you hard.”

“Doctor Gazalt has some definite opinions about how her office should be arranged.” He raises a hand, rubbing pointedly at his neck. “What do they make the furniture out of here? Bricks?”

“Concrete, probably,” she agrees. “Pancho’s?”

He nods. “Spicy sauce. Extra spicy sauce. I’ll get the car.”

She grins. “Sounds like a deal. Meet me out font in ten?”

He lets out a huff. “I’ll meet you out front whenever I manage to lug my broken body across the parking garage and into the driver’s seat.”

“You poor baby,” she deadpans, patting his arm.

“I’ve suffered,” he tells her, affronted. “And don’t forget! Extra Spicy!”

The hospital is a cool cocoon, it’s temperature scrupulously maintained for the benefit of the labs and supplies inside, and so when Shirayuki emerges into the bright, May morning--

The heat hits her like a wall.

The air is oppressive; with each step it weighs her down, like a body laying across her back, and oh, she cannot wait until Obi gets here with the towncar, because there is no way she can last more than ten minutes without air conditioning.

Shirayuki has to laugh at that as she trudges down the granite stairs. She, who had spent her summers in a stuffy attic of an old Victorian house with only a single circular window to allow air in, happily devouring book after book as she laid on her bed with little more than underwear on, to whom air conditioning was a ridiculous luxury--

And now she can’t live without it. Probably couldn’t bear to sleep in a tiny twin bed either, with a mattress last changed out when she stopped wetting the bed. Not now that she’s experienced queen size and memory foam. Zen’s truly made sure she can never go home again.

Not that it was an option, anyway.

She oozes onto the pavement, taking a moment to really feel how sweaty twenty steps and thirty seconds can make her, and turns, goal blessedly in sight. Pancho’s lime green paint glistens in the morning sun, and the smell of meat cooking on the griddle inspires her to make the last three yard push. Well, that and she’s absolutely sure that Obi won’t let her in the car empty handed, not after he had to move Garrack’s desk.

“Good morning!” Shirayuki manages. “Two breakfast burritos. One...al pastor...extra spicy. The other...veggie? Mild.”

The vendor peers down from the counter-- it’s the dark-haired one, Shiira. Good. He won’t scream if she passes out in front of him. “Doing okay there, ma’am?”

“Never better,” she assures him, knuckles white where she grips the metal. It’s the only thing keeping her upright “I love heat. So much.”

His mouth curves into a faint smile, ringing up her order. “Boston thinned your blood, did it?”

“I’ll get used to it.” It’s been a year, sure, but it will happen at some point. It has to. “I did it before.”

He barks out a laugh, mouth opening to say more until his gaze catches over her shoulder. “Oh, can I take your order, sir?”

Shirayuki steps off to the side, her shoulder bumping hard into the magazine rack hanging off the window. It wibbles hard, metal banging against metal as it vibrates against the side of the truck. She catches it with a grimace, stilling it before it can make more of a racket, and glimpses the name WISTERIA on the front page. Her hand hovers, ready to grab it--

And catches the National Enquirer above it. Her hand jerks back like it’s been scalded. She doesn’t need to see any of that, thank you. Probably just more articles about Izana’s philandering ways.

She huffs out a laugh. Anyone who wrote about his wife crying in bed, unable to stand from grief has clearly never met her. Yuzuri’s probably read it already, with bullet points ready to bitch about, and--

Oh! Yuzuri. She digs into her bag, fishing out her phone. 12 MISSED CALLS sits bright on her welcome screen, nagging at her. As much as she wants to know just what ridiculous scheme has gotten Suzu in trouble now, she can always catch up later.

With a flick of her thumb she summons her call screen, and there it is, twelve calls missed, and all of them--

All of them are from Yuzuri.

Her heart pounds loud in her ears, the sound of the street around her muted. The screen won’t stay still, making words blur as if she’s trying to read in a dream, as if any moment they’ll drip off the page.

But it’s no dream. She’s had twelve calls from Yuzuri in the past hour, and her hands are trembling.

Something must have happened. Suzu’s hurt, or Kirito’s sick, or-- or--

What had her text said? She swipes a thumb, ready to find out, but--

Her phone buzzes, right in her hand. Shirayuki stares at it, dumb. She must have forgotten to turn on the ringer.

YUZURI it reads, and her heart skips a beat.

“Is everything okay?” she breathes the moment the call connects, one hand clenched in her collar.

“No, nothing is okay,” Yuzuri snaps, voice crackling in that way that means both danger and most probably homicide. “I will fly out there and help you hide the body. There are lye pits everywhere, Yuki.”

She blinks, head jerking back from the whiplash. “Excuse me?”

“Or I’ll do the job myself, if you want,” she continues, undaunted. “I’m sure a rich kid like him has a lot of enemies. We’ll never get caught.”

“Yuzuri.” She shakes her head. “Who on earth are you talking about?”

“Wha--? Zen!” she says, exasperated. “You mean he hasn’t even told you?”

“Told me what?”

“Oh my god,” Yuzuri breathes. “I can’t-- you haven’t even seen the news?”

“I was on nights.” She turns to the rack behind her, riffling through the magazines. “I didn’t really have time to-- oh. Oh my.”

WISTERIA WEDDING BELLS TO RING AGAIN! the tabloid boasts, showing Zen right on the front, his hair tousled as he steps down from the private jet. She’d laugh it off, just like she always does-- she’d lost count of the number of times they reported his engagement to Kiki before she got married, and Obi made a habit of buying anything that reported them having an affair so he could snapchat it to Kiki at his leisure-- but this-- this--

(”Is everything all right?” She picks her head up from his shoulder, but beneath her palm she can still feel his heart racing. The movie keeps playing on the screen, something fraught and in French, and when he stares down at her, she can see the white all around his eyes, shining in the dark.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” His arm wraps tighter around her, and he gives her a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. She’s never realized how much he looks like Izana until now.

She raises a brow. “You seem tense.”

“Ah.” he shifts beneath her, gaze flicking back to the TV. “Yeah, I just-- have a project I have to finish up next week. Just...starting to really feel the deadline. You know how it is.”

A line carves a chasm between his eyebrows, worn by the inexorabe waters of worry. There’s never much she can do for him, the man who wears the weight of the world on his back, but-- but she can do this, sitting back on her knees, fiddling with the watch around her wrist.

“Here,” she says, pulling it tight around his.

He stares down at it, confused, and she smiles. There’s something perversely gratifying to giving a man who has everything something so second-hand it still has the heat from her body. “What--?”

“My lucky watch.”

He tilts his eyes up to watch her, so blue in the dim. “Is this the one I gave to you?”

“After I broke yours?” She nods, smile tilting ruefully. “And now I’m lending this to you. Bring it back safe.”

His fingers brush it, almost reverent. Zen may not let her bear any of his burden, but she can make it feel lighter, even if only for a while. “I...will.”)

Her watch gleams from beneath the cuff of his blazer, visible as he holds out an arm to help a pair of shapely legs behind him. The cover creases in her hands, cracking under her grip, and--

“Are you going to buy that too?” Shiira asks, somehow both pointed and concerned.

Shirayuki shakes herself. The tabloids are always quick to speculate, slapping fiancée over any woman he shared air with for more than a minute. This doesn’t have to mean anything.

And it wouldn’t, not if she hadn’t already thought--

“Shirayuki?” Yuzuri prompts, alarm ringing through every syllable. “Are you--?”

“I’m fine.” It’s not a lie if she doesn’t know whether or it’s true. “I just have to-- I’ll have to call you back.”

She hangs up with Yuzuri mid-breath, doubtlessly gearing up to give her an earful of opinions. It’s rude, yes, but she can hardly think past the next name on her list, scrolling until ZEN WISTERIA lights up on the screen.

It’s a mistake, it has to be. It’s just some picture, out of context, slapped right onto the page like it means something.

Two foil-wrapped packages slide toward her. “That will be seven forty--”

You’ve reached the voice mail of Zen. Wisteria. Please leave a message at--

“This too,” she says, slapping the rag on the counter.

Shiira stares at her, wide-eyed.

She coughs, arranging it with slightly more care. “And, um, a horchata. Please.”

You’ve reached the voice mail of Zen. Wisteria. Please leave a message at the tone.

Shirayuki shifts her load to the crook of her elbow, nibbling at a cuticle. “Hi. It’s, um, me again. I just got off shift, and I--” she takes a long, hard breath, and switches tack-- “just call me. Whenever you can. I’ll keep my ringer on.”

A black sedan slips up to the curb, the passenger side door stopping right at her toes. The window scrolls down with a soft hum, and Obi stretches across the seat, his mouth rucking up in a smirk. “Come on, Miss, we don’t have all--”

His whole body stiffens, the warm amber of his eyes fixed to her face. “Miss,” he breathes, lips hardly moving, knuckles white where he grips the console. “Miss, what’s wrong. Are you--?”

She shoves the magazine through the window, crumpling it into his hands. “Miss, what--?”

He stares. Obi might not recognize the watch-- might not even know she had given it away-- but oh, he can recognize the ring.

“That’s Mrs Wisteria’s--”

“Yes.” She can’t even bear to hear it spoke. “Yeah.”

His brow furrows. “There has to be some explanation. You know how these rags like to come up with--”

“He won’t pick up.” Her voice cracks, but she can’t-- she can’t do this here, right on the sidewalk. Not in front of her hospital. His hospital. “Or Mitsuhide. Or Kiki. I don’t...”

Know what to believe. her lips catch the words before they slip out. If she doesn’t say it, it can’t be true, it can’t be real, this can’t be happening.

“We’ll figure it out,” Obi tells her, but his voice wavers, and his hands clench tight on her seat. “Just get in and we’ll--”

Her phone cuts him off. She jumps to answer it, glancing down at the screen to see--

Oh. Oh no.

IZANA WISTERIA, it reads.

“Oh,” Obi breathes. “Shit.”

[superman86to99]

Superman #83 (November 1993)

Funeral for a Friend: uh, that one Green Lantern supporting character who died when Coast City got blown up (Joe? Gary?). In this issue DC’s superheroes pay tribute to the tragedy of Coast City while also deciding what the hell to do with the giant engine that’s now in its place. Weird early ‘90s Hawkman! Dr. Fate with boobs! Already-slightly-psychotic Hal Jordan! EVERYONE IS HERE.

(Nice one, Guy.)

Meanwhile, Lex Luthor Jr. is also sneaking around Engine City, supposedly to prevent it from falling into the ocean and killing some of Aquaman’s friends, but in reality he just wants to look into the Cyborg Superman’s computer to see if he can find a recipe for making kryptonite. As the heroes argue about what to do with Engine City (Hal says drop it into the water, screw the fish), some leftover Warworld aliens start attacking them, like the holdout Japanese soldiers who never found out WWII was over.

The attack precipitates the city’s fall into the water and the heroes have to think fast to prevent a fish holocaust. Their solution is for all the Green Lantern-related characters (Hal Jordan, Guy Gardner, Alan Scott, Alan’s daughter Jade) to “detoxify” the debris with their powers before it falls into the ocean. And it works! These guys should totally open a carpet cleaning business.

As for Lex Jr., he does find the recipe for kryptonite inside the crumbling city, but just as he’s about to write it down (he wasn’t carrying any floppy disks, apparently), Supergirl yanks him out of there to prevent him from burning alive. What an unsupportive girlfriend. Anyway, Superman then takes some of the debris and builds a giant memorial for Coast City’s 6,999,999 anonymous lost souls, and Gary. Sweet Gary. You will be missed.

Creator-Watch:

If the art looks different that’s because this is the first issue inked by Joe Rubinstein, ending Brett Breeding’s classic two and a half year run as Dan Jurgens’ main inker (so classic that it feels a lot longer than that). Breeding will be back for Superman/Doomsday: Hunter/Prey and other stuff, though. As for Rubinstein, Don says: “At  the time, I had trouble with the transition, being soused to Brett Breeding’s finishes over Jurgens’ pencils, but looking at it now, the art looks great. It doesn’t look as smooth or blocky as Breeding’s finishes, but Rubinstein’s hatchier style serves Jurgens pretty well, even if it takes some getting used to.”

Plotline-Watch:

At the start of the issue, Superman goes to pick up Batman to take him to Coast City, only to find him wearing a different costume, acting differently, and sounding like a different guy. That’s because that’s not really Bruce Wayne in the suit anymore, but the replacement he got after Bane broke his back. That’s right: freakin’ Psi-Phon and Dreadnaught.

Superman gives a speech about how superheroes must work together to prevent another tragedy like Coast City from happening, but when Guy asks him if that means he’s going back to the Justice League, he’s like “uh, not yet.” Wisely, he’s gonna wait for Grant Morrison to get there first.

Hal Jordan’s characterization in this issue is interesting. In Green Lantern #47 (which came out the same month), he’s bummed about Coast City but still hopeful and serene, while here he’s already going Parallax on us. Wonder if Dan Jurgens knew more about what DC was planning for Hal than the other comic’s writer.

There’s a cute scene where Superman is flying by Kansas on his way to Coast City and quickly drops some flowers for Ma Kent. (That, or Flash picked this moment to hit on a random older woman.) 

Former TV exec/crime boss Morgan Edge has released an autobiography where he trashes the Daily Planet’s Cat Grant for using her sexiness (and, you know, sex) to get dirt on him and send him to jail. He also accuses Cat of being a crappy mother to her son Adam. He kind of has a point there, because what kind of mom would let her kid play with an Atari in the early ‘90s?! The SNES and the Genesis were already out!

Believe it or not, Morgan Edge’s pervy dad in that screenshot above isn’t the creepiest thing in that scene. Don: “Very spooky how the guy dangling outside of Cat’s apartment goes without mention. An ominous foreshadow of one of the very few missteps of Jurgens’ run.”

But the most ominous part of the issue is at the end, when Clark Kent accepts Jimmy Olsen’s offer to become roomies, since Clark lost his apartment on account of being dead and all. Don wants you to know that “Jimmy is still in that towel by the way” in the scene below. I hope.

Patreon-Watch:

Shout out to our patrons Aaron, Murray Qualie, Chris “Ace” Hendrix, britneyspearsatemyshorts, Patrick D. Ryall, and a warm welcome to Samuel Doran! Last month our patrons got to read an article about Superman’s bizarre first Elseworlds appearance ever, the Kamandi: At Earth’s End miniseries, and got a veeeeeery early look at this post you’re reading right now (since Don finished his part way before I did mine). Right now I’m preparing this month’s Patreon-only article, which involves Superman wearing pointy ears and Luthor wearing make up. Find out more at https://www.patreon.com/superman86to99

Oh, and in case you missed it, we’ve been posting Don’s new commentary for older issues on the Patreon as free posts (click above and scroll down to see them). EVEN MORE from Don after the jump!

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow​):

Another classic issue, and such a nice wrap-up to the "Death and Return" storyline (as well as being a much-needed check-In on the DC Universe at  large).  We start with the cover, and it’s a very good one, letting the  reader know right away that it’s a big team-up issue.  (It also is a real showcase for 90s costume design, and how weird the JLA lineup was at this point).

The opening splash is a neat image of a rarely seen pairing, Superman and Commissioner Gordon.   Jurgens draws James Gordon a little heavier and more Pa-Kent like than I’m used to seeing him, but it’s still neat to see him interacting with Superman. A page  later, we get another rare pairing—the returned Superman with the imposter Batman, Jean-Paul Valley.  The tension in the interaction between “AzBats” and Superman comes across well in their exchange, as does Superman’s doubts about who he was really speaking to.

It’s a dreamy looking Superman crossing the country from Metropolis to Coast City, and I daresay that they’re trying to channel Dean Cain a little as he approaches Kansas.

The best panel of the issue though is the two page spread  of all the heroes gathering at the wreckage of Coast City, and there’s so much to love here.  The body language, and facial  expressions speak volumes about each of the characters:  Superman looking swashbuckling and upbeat, Green Lantern brooding like a man barely holding on, Green Arrow all attitude and shadow.  Just a great spread.

Another cool image is Aquaman showing up late, and emerging very royally in protection of his ocean (undercut masterfully by a legitimately funny couple of lines from Guy Gardner).  Page 14’s Hal Jordan is a great drawing, and this whole storyline seems like a table setter for the "Emerald Twilight" story coming up.

The sequence of a firelit Luthor  at the computer is a good look at his madness, but it does beg the  question of just how little Supergirl seems to take in.  He was JUST talking aloud  about Kryptonite, and she emerges seeming not to hear.  The image of  Supergirl flying Lex away as he struggles against her psychic grab is a  good one, even if her uniform is depicted as a little clingier than I imagine it to really be.

Superman floating above his obelisk with his arm in front of  his face like Dracula is a cool look, even if it is a little dramatic.

Lastly, the image of Clark turning up the stereo is a good one, even if his hair length is wildly  shorter here than in Coast City (and I usually dislike it when they  mention real world bands, as it comes off trying too hard to be hip).

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

I  have to love how meta it is to have Superman outright saying that Batman is dressing more “threatening” these days,  on page 2.  I guess he couldn’t come right out and say “you have an  extreme new look, and it’s totally badass! Batman the next generation!”

Last  we saw of Supergirl she was storming out of the party on Lex’s Zeppelin after Lex II was getting all horned up at  the sight of Lois Lane, but it appears here they’ve mostly patched  things up as they fly to Coast City.

More meta-stuff: Jimmy clunkily complimenting Lois on her new hair by saying she “oughta be on TV or something!”.   This whole exchange is very expository, really, “Clark must be pretty mad… though he’s busy worrying about where he’s going to bunk…”  Anything else to get in there, Jimmy?

The harshness some of the heroes have for Lex Junior seems a little out of place, especially since he’s still known to  most of the heroes as an ally from "Panic in the Sky", and the "Doomsday"  storyline.  Superman’s comment was borderline, but where is all this  anger Flash is showing coming from?

Being  as familiar as we are with these writers, there are certain phrases or ideas that a certain writer will go to way,  way too often.  Byrne had a number of stories where Superman would  “ionize” something with his heat vision, and it occurred to me that  maybe he just liked that word.  I would submit that Dan Jurgens likes the word “atomize”.  It was used by the Cyborg  Superman when talking about Doomsday, and is used a bunch just in this issue.

I find it hilarious that Hawkman appears so prominently in this issue, but doesn’t get any lines.  This issue is an  interesting time capsule—I had almost forgotten about the de-aged  Starheart powered Alan Scott era.

Speaking of lines, they don’t give Captain Marvel much to do in this issue, but I always like seeing him, even if his only contribution is the odd “Holy Moley!”

Colouring error on page 12, where Hal’s ring has a red centre (maybe the colourist had Alan Scott’s red and green look on the brain?)

A raging Hal standing by Green Arrow is a sad foreshadowing of their confrontation to come in Zero Hour.

[lampmeeting]

since i can now do this ldsfk 1-Metalocalypse (obvi) and 2 Chickles back at you :3

oh HELL yeah *rubs hands together* okay this’ll be long so i’ll do a cut

Favorite character: PICKLESSSSS

Least Favorite character: everyone says rockso and like I GET IT he’s revolting, but my ultimate least-fave is toki’s dad. fuck that old man.

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): CHICKLES, HAMMERTOOTH, uhhhh (what else is there?? i’m kidding) nathan/abigail, charles/magnus, nathan/toki

Character I find most attractive: oh fuck don’t do this to me. i have too many types!! i can’t pick! fuck. i’m just gonna say charles. even though it’s magnus. wait. no. it’s pickles. charles. toki. fuck. magnus. i can’t do it dfkgjhf

Character I would marry: realistically?? like, i would say charles but unless i’m a member of dethklok i’m gonna be getting like .02% of that man’s time. honestly i would pick toki or nathan. toki would be so sweet and attentive, all the huggings and kissings, awww. nathan i feel would be the same, but only in private. you gotta kinda work on him a lil bit haha.

Character I would be best friends with: my heart says pickles but my soul says murderface. i would FOR SURE laugh at one of his off-hand under-his-breath comments because that’s just what i do, i fucking laugh at everything, and he’d be like OH? someone thinks i’m funny?? and then my life would never know peace (in a good way)

A random thought: i wanna hear all the dethklok albums from before the show started. like that album where their abs were airbrushed, wtf did that sound like?

An unpopular opinion: season 4 was good. :O i feel like i hear the sentiment from quite a few people that season 4 on the whole was bad. i love all the seasons equally actually.

My Canon OTP: CHICKLES. may i present to the court, exhibit A *points to my icon* (shhh no, let me dream)

My Non-canon OTP: toki/magnus :’) i think this is just about as non-canon as you can get, really. but the heart wants what it wants.

Most Badass Character: DEFINITELY charles.

Most Epic Villain: sorry, mags... salacia.

Pairing I am not a fan of: i think i’m willing to at least entertain most any ship. i’ve read some interesting things for sure. i draw the line at seth/pickles though (i’m glad that doesn’t really seem to exist anymore? it was around more back in the day).

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): aside from magnus and abigail, who both needed WAY more screen time?? i would say dr rockso in a sense. he was sort of that kooky rascal you wave your finger at when he gets in trouble, and then they had to go and do the whole dory mclean thing. and i get the point of the episode, but after that i wasn’t rooting for rockso anymore and he kinda became more of this sinister kinda figure? i dunno. i think that whole angle could’ve been done away with and it would’ve been a lot better. also him trying to fucking drown toki in the christmas episode. 8( ouch, man.

Favourite Friendship: probably nathan and pickles, since they’re the lynchpin of the whole outfit.

Character I most identify with: pickles with some toki on the side. :’) ahhh.

Character I wish I could be: i wanna be that girl that nathan was dating for a while, the one the boys end up befriending and playing scrabble with. i want to be their friiiiiiiiiend

OKAY CHICKLES TIIIIIIIME

When I started shipping them: WELL....okay so i actually just went back and looked at my old deviantart account and the first drawing i did of them (yes i’m linking to 14-year-old art pls don’t judge me) was on Oct. 18, 2006, so like...the dethfam episode hadn’t even aired yet. god damn. there was someone in the sausage festival livejournal community who had drawn the two of them, and then i fucking went ravenous for it real quick and it became like the only thing i drew for months hahaha. i had been nickles up until then. :O

My thoughts: MY THOUGHTS??? this is so vague. i have many thoughts. uh, for one? they’re perfect together? the straight-laced workaholic and the lazy degenerate? yes please, gimme. they’re like yin and yang, opposites attracting. and yet i feel like, once they get past that, they realize they’re both so similar at their cores. and pickles helps charles loosen up, and charles gives pickles some structure. they both give each other someone to lean on when shit gets bad. pickles can be a surprisingly good caretaker when he wants to be. :’)

What makes me happy about them: everything?? i really don’t know how to adequately describe just how much i love them and just how much that means hahah... you ever ship something for 14 years?? i know some of y’all have. it gets in your blood. that’s like over a third of my life right there. not to be dramatic or anything hahaha but they’re important to me. that ship helped get me through some rough months back when i lived alone in a crappy apartment, and it’s hilarious to me that i’m getting back into it hardcore like i was back then considering everything that’s going on right now, just current events-wise and personal stuff-wise.

What makes me sad about them: god damn, anything about those 9 months charles spent “dead”. anything post-doomstar. anything snakes ‘n barrels where they’re together for a short time and then never see each other until charles becomes dethklok’s manager. pickles pining after him for like a decade after the band forms. or charles pining, having to watch pickles party and do drunks and sleep around. or BOTH of them pining and not realizing it, or REALIZING IT and not acting on it because what if it hurt the band somehow? maybe charles wouldn’t want to jeopardize it but pickles would be okay with it, and charles would have to be the one to say no. ahhhhhhhHHHHHH

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: oof, i agree with you here, Ash. i’ve read a couple fics where, like, the bdsm aspect wasn’t even fun. i probably know the exact fic that left a bad taste in your mouth because there’s one specific one i’m thinking of that left a bad taste in mine (actually two...). like i had to actually get up from the computer and go do dishes hahah... uck. but yeah. don’t like charles being abusive to pickles. i think pickles does like some punishment from time to time, and he definitely has some daddy issues. but i don’t want it to get fucking sinister haha y’know? pickles, at his heart, is a good-times guy. he likes good feelings. he wants to feel nice. and charles, at HIS heart, is all about service.

Things I look for in fanfic: are they in love or just hooking up?? i mean i’ll take either at the end of the day, but i’m a romantic and i need the love, i crave it.

My wishlist: give to me all the fics about snakes n’ barrels chickles. how i haven’t written one baffles me (though i did have that huge plot write-up from months back haha...i should turn that into a real fic sometime). would also love a huge fic about their marriage, complete with canon-typical buffoonery. fics about them retiring together. ;0; fics about them just having nice peaceful moments. literally just.....any fic haha...

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: my soul literally begins to shatter apart if i consider them ultimately ending up with anyone else hahaha... other relationships can come and go, but at the end of the line i need those boys to be together. <3

My happily ever after for them: after galaktikon II, dethklok has kinda run its course. the band uses their near-infinite resources to help rebuild the earth. shortly after, it’s pickles who proposes in a surprising turn of events. shaken after the battle, he doesn’t wanna waste any more time. they get married barefoot on the beach probably in like fiji or something (pickles’ idea) with friends and family present (the okay ones haha, also magnus is there with toki because this is my dream, damnit). pickles has white flowers in his dreads in lieu of a bouquet. T~T everything goes well, no one crashes the wedding. they have a lovely honeymoon there when everyone else leaves. pickles says he’s decided to retire from music, but it’s not long before he’s working feverishly on new music in the home studio at their new place. some real expansive stuff. he’s kinda doing it as a weird therapy, coming to terms with some stuff. he never gets clean but he’s not using drugs and alcohol as a band-aid for his problems quite so much anymore. charles retires from managing bands (he doesn’t have the heart for it if it’s not dethklok) and ends up doing the adjunct professor thing whenever he gets bored. but he practices guitar a lot, pickles teaching him some advanced stuff, they jam together sometimes. he takes up sailing because it’s something he’s always wanted to do but never had time for. after pickles releases his first solo album, charles takes him on a long, romantic sailing trip. everything is perfect, everything’s gonna be good forever. 8′) forever. the end.

[anubislover]

Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya Chapter 5: The Masks We Wear

“You are, without a doubt, the most arrogant asshole I’ve ever met!” Nami screamed, her voice echoing down the steel hallway. Most of the crew had taken cover in any room they could find—things had been tense ever since the sunburn incident over a week ago, everyone walking on eggshells waiting for Law’s inevitable revenge. They all knew it wouldn’t be right away; the man liked to take his time, meticulously planning while his victim was lulled into a false sense of security, thinking he had forgiven and forgotten. There was already a large betting pool on what would happen and when, with theories ranging from her waking up to a room full of organs to being forced to wear a skimpy nurse uniform.

Most were silently praying for the latter.

Across from her, Law glared, arms crossed and knuckles white as a small vein popped in his neck out of frustration. They’d been arguing for nearly ten minutes, and for a man who was used to having his orders followed immediately and enthusiastically, it was quickly growing wearisome. “And you’re the most infuriating little witch I’ve ever encountered. I’m not even asking much; it’s completely within your skillset.”

“Like hell it is! You’d have more luck convincing me to wear your crew’s stupid jumpsuits!”

“And deprive my men of seeing you prance around in practically nothing? Morale would tank.”

She crossed her arms, scowling. “Then we agree; I’m not doing it.”

“Our agreement was that you work for me; that means you listen to my orders and carry them out, no arguments.”

“I absolutely never agreed to the ‘no arguments’ part.”

“All I’m asking is for you to pull your weight by using your skills as the Cat Thief to assist me in a little infiltration job. Or do you not know how to act like a lady?” he taunted.

She bristled at the insult but refused to take the bait. “I already pull my weight; I help Bepo with his maps, guide you through storms, and do my share of chores.”

“I’ll concede to the first two, but I know you’ve been conning the men into doing your cleaning.”

She didn’t even try to stop the pleased smirk from curving her lips. “I can’t help it if they feel like being gentlemen by taking on some extra mopping so I can dedicate my time to more important matters.”

“And you thank them by stealing their wallets.”

“It’s no secret I’m a thief; they should know better than to let their guards down around me. Consider it training; you said I shouldn’t let my skills degrade, and a pretty face like mine could be their downfall if they don’t smarten up.”

“That’s the only reason I haven’t removed your hands for it, Nami-ya,” Law replied sourly. “That being said, I’m ordering you to stop stealing from them. It’s not nice to take advantage of your crew.”

Infuriated, she jabbed him in the chest. “They’re not my crew! We’re in a temporary alliance, and I’m fine working with them, but I’m a Straw Hat! Get that through your pigheaded-skull!”

A hand shot forward, grabbing her wrist and pulling her close to Law’s tall, imposing form. “For all intents and purposes, until the year is up, you’re a Heart Pirate. I said when you first arrived, I intend on making the most of having you on my crew, and I meant it.” Arguing was getting him nowhere, so he quickly changed tactics. A shiver ran up Nami’s spine as he leaned close, hot breath ghosting over her sensitive ear and neck. “You’re stealthy, clever, beautiful, and one of the best burglars on the Grand Line. I can’t imagine a better partner. With our combined skillsets, a job like this should be both easy and extremely profitable. I just need your help searching the place for some classified documents once the party’s in full swing.”

A hint of pink dusted her cheeks at his flattery. “Documents?”

“Inside the main study is a safe full of Marine codes, reports on the various atrocities they’ve caused in the name of ‘justice,’ names of soldiers infiltrating pirate crews—all things that go for millions of belli on the black market. Besides that, our target is known for having expensive tastes. Bejeweled trinkets, high-end art, gold statuettes; the man’s loaded.”

Nami couldn’t help it; belli signs flashed in her eyes at the thought of getting her hands on that treasure. Law’d said he had a big job planned, and clearly, he wasn’t kidding.

It was clear that he had her attention, so the Dark Doctor pressed on, voice dropping an octave to seductively murmur, “And that’s just the study. Imagine all the rich pockets you could pick at the party. Far more profitable than my crew, and anything you manage to steal on your own is completely yours; I won’t even demand a cut.” Brushing his free hand across the sleeve of her borrowed shirt, he added, “I was even generous enough to buy you a new dress for the occasion, since you’ll need to look the part of a rich doctor’s lover.”

As much as she hated it, she was wavering. When he’d first proposed—or more specifically, ordered—she escort him to a party as his date, she’d refused on principle. But damn, after only a month, he was starting to figure out her weaknesses, and right now, money was a big one. She had very little to her name on the ship; most of her clothes were borrowed from Ikkaku, and while they’ve made port a couple times, she hadn’t been able to get much beyond the essentials. So the idea of having fresh, wealthy victims and an outfit of her own that she didn’t even have to pay for was tempting indeed.

Too bad she knew pirates like him didn’t do anything for free.

Ignoring the overwhelming heat of his proximity and her natural greed, hazelnut eyes met his hooded gaze suspiciously. “What’s your real game here, Law?”

To his credit, his lazy grin didn’t falter. “Maybe I just think it’ll be amusing to watch you force yourself to shower me with love and adoration all night.”

Nami didn’t buy it for a second. Beneath the sharp scent of soap and antiseptic, she could smell a con. “And who, exactly, owns the house we’ll be infiltrating?”

The confident expression finally slid off his face. “Baron Harpin Gerald, former Head of Intelligence for the Navy.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“He’s over 70 years old—far past his prime.”

“Whitebeard was 72 and still considered the Strongest Man in the World! Garp’s even older and he can throw cannonballs like baseballs! And do you really think a couple of pirates won’t be recognized at a former Marine bigwig’s gala? Especially one of the fucking Supernova?!” she shouted, trying to pull away for the certified madman who’d managed to rope her into service.

Not budging or releasing his hold on the slippery thief, he stated, “Lucky that it’s a masquerade ball, then. A good mask, some temporary hair dye, and no one will suspect a thing. Besides, no pirate would be brazen enough to walk right into the lion’s den.”

“You mean stupid enough.”

“And here I thought you’d enjoy making a little extra cash.”

“I like staying out of jail more. Besides, I’ve seen what your powers can do; you don’t even need to attend the party!”

Gold eyes narrowed in annoyance, though she got the sense it wasn’t fully at her. “On that scale, everyone with eyes will notice a mysterious blue bubble springing up out of nowhere, and someone is sure to raise the alarm,” he countered. “The other problem is that the safe is made out of Seastone—that means my powers are useless, and even touching the damn thing weakens me. So, I need a more traditional thief by my side as back-up.”

Realization hit her like Luffy’s Gum-Gum Bazooka. “You’ve tried to rob him before, haven’t you?”

“Once, about six months ago. Far from a success, though at least the injuries were minimal and he never found out who got past his defenses.”

She frowned. Now it definitely made sense why he wanted to infiltrate the masquerade, but she was still skeptical. “How do you even plan to get us in? If this party’s as fancy as you say, there’ll be a guest list, invitations, at the very list some kind of ID check at the entrance to keep the riffraff out.”

Law reached into his jean pocket, drawing out a shiny, embossed invitation. “Then it’s a good thing Dr. Goodheart Adrian M.D. and his plus-one have already RSVP’d.”

“You really think they’ll fall for a fake invitation?”

“I sent Uni ahead to switch out the guest list with an updated version. Bribed a servant to let him take his place. He sent me a message this morning that he was successful, so we’re in.”

“Like anyone would believe you’re a real doctor.”

“I am a real doctor—I wouldn’t have been able to save Mugiwara’s life if I weren’t,” he said pointedly.

Nami winced. There was that painful reminder of exactly how much she owed this man and that, whether she liked it or not, she was obligated to follow his orders for the sake of their deal. The whole plan sounded absolutely insane, but it was still a plan—far more than she was used to on her own crew.

And she really needed the money. Not just for shopping; being so poor again brought back too many painful memories of her childhood, of being poor and watching Bellemere eat nothing but mikans so her kids would have enough to eat. Of putting aside the majority of her haul after every job, counting down the days until she’d have enough to buy back her village. Of watching those shady Marines destroy the mikan grove, hauling away her stash so Arlong could keep her forever. Treasure was more than just shiny coins and cute outfits to her—it was a safety net, something she clung to as tightly as a child might a security blanket.

Money could keep monsters at bay, and now that she was stuck on a ship with the Surgeon of Death, that fact was more prominent than ever.

So as much as she wanted to refuse and wipe that smug glint from his eye, she knew he had her backed into a corner, where the most she could do was give in gracefully.

At long last, she sighed, “My dress better have pockets.”

XXX

Though she generally preferred casual clothes, Nami appreciated expensive things, and the gown Law had gotten her definitely screamed “money.” The gold satin overdress, embossed with darker gold leopard spots, draped over her curves magnificently, cinching tightly at the waist with a black and gold belt; the bottom had an under layer of stiff interfacing, allowing it to flare out like a ballgown without the need for tulle or petticoats while concealing a daring slit where she could slip her ill-gotten goods into the many hidden interior pockets or expose the pale flesh of her leg as a distraction. The plunging neckline was nearly to her sternum, and the long, billowing sleeves hid her signature tattoo. It was more like an extremely fancy robe in its design, and underneath was a skintight, black, spaghetti-strap bodysuit much better for sneaking around in, her Clima-Tact strapped to her thigh. A string of pearls and matching earrings completed the look—it wasn’t quite as fancy as what she was sure other women would be wearing, but it was what she had, and it was less conspicuous than going unadorned. If she were lucky, maybe she’d have the opportunity to swipe something better off a drunk heiress.

“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” the Cat Thief grumbled as she carefully applied eyeliner. A long, dark purple wig covered her orange hair, the loose, elegant curls pinned away from her face with a few barrettes inlaid with pearls, letting the rest cascade down her back like a midnight waterfall. Ikkaku had given her permission to use as much of her makeup as needed, and with a bit of contouring and highlighter, Nami could hardly recognize herself.

“I can,” the engineer chimed from her bed where she’d been studying the mansion’s blueprints. She and the rest of the crew were tasked with causing a number of diversions throughout the island that would draw away the guards and authorities, giving the pair inside the perfect opportunity to sneak away to the study. “He made you an offer you couldn’t refuse. Honestly, I’m kind of jealous.”

“What, you want to be Law’s girlfriend for the night? Because I’m willing to trade.”

“Hell no—last time we tried that cover, I couldn’t keep a straight face. Nearly tanked the whole plan. But it’s cute how far he’s willing to go to get you on his side. It’s even funnier that you pretend you don’t like it.”

Nami snorted, brushing on some mascara, pleased with how sultry the fanned-out lashes made her almond eyes. “I don’t like it. He’s a creep, and Luffy’s rival, and I’m still waiting for the day I wake up on his operating table, heart and liver and kidneys on display and ready for sale. Or for him to sell me wholesale to the highest bidder.”

Shaking her head, Ikkaku replied matter-of-factly, “He wouldn’t do that to you unless you really tried to fuck us over. Like, there was one guy who joined up not long after me who tried to sell Bepo to some slavers—Minks go for a lot at auctions. Captain’s not usually one for cold-blooded torture, but he made that bastard suffer. Last we saw him, the guy was in pieces being shipped off to separate corners of the four Blues.”

She shuddered at the image, though she couldn’t bring herself to fault his reaction. The more she got to know Bepo, the more she wanted to protect him, too, and from what she’d gathered, the bear was one of Law’s oldest and closest friends. “Now that I believe, but are you seriously not afraid of him? You’ve seen what he can do, and while he’s not as bad as I thought, you can’t tell me all of his reputation’s government propaganda.”

“Why would I be? Even if he was as ruthless as the papers say, Captain Law takes care of his crew. Plus, I’m indispensable around here, and I grew up with four older brothers, so I know a thing or two about how many buttons I can push before I’m in any real trouble.” She smirked, as if she’d just discovered a big secret. “You’re not scared because you think he’ll actually slice you up—otherwise, you wouldn’t backtalk him so much. What you’re really afraid of is the fact that you’re not at the top of the food chain anymore.”

It gutted her that her friend wasn’t wrong. Though Luffy was captain, from the get-go Nami had basically been the one who ran the ship, bending the others to her will with either her feminine wiles or her fists. And while she certainly had most of the Heart Pirates wrapped around her finger, she didn’t like that Law had real power and authority over her while her usual threats and tactics had minimal effect on the cool captain. “It’s far from the only reason, but yeah, it doesn’t help. Don’t get me wrong—you’ve all been super nice and accommodating—but I’m not exactly a trusting person. And Law’s way more…I guess intimidating is the best word to use, than Luffy ever was. So I’m not going to be joining the guy’s fan club anytime soon.”

“Fair, but just give Captain a chance, yeah? He might surprise you.”

Before she could argue that she wanted absolutely no surprises from the Surgeon of Death, there was a knock at the door, the raps against the metal quick and precise.

“Seems someone’s here to pick you up for your date,” Ikkaku sing-songed.

Hazel eyes glared at her bunkmate as she got up to answer the door. “It’s not a date, and if you call it that again, you’re gonna find out why exactly why I’m Head Bitch in Charge on the Sunny.”

Steeling herself, Nami smoothed down the stiff fabric of her gown, determined to treat this night with the same level of professionalism Law used in the infirmary. A few hours of acting, looking pretty, and sneaking around, and then she could plan her next shopping spree. And despite his arrogance and innuendos, she was sure Law would take this just as seriously—after all, it was his plan, and the payout affected the whole crew. He knew what he was doing, and with the amount of thought and care he put into crafting this elaborate scheme, there was no way he’d risk it by pushing her buttons. Perhaps the night wouldn’t be a total disaster.

Those reassuring thoughts flew out the window into the ocean depths to probably be eaten by a sea king the moment she opened the door.

“Please tell me that’s not your disguise.”

Looking down at himself, the Dark Doctor’s brow furrowed. “I see nothing wrong with it.” Admittedly, he looked good; midnight blue hair, including his goatee and sideburns, was dyed black, and he’d put in grey contacts to cover the distinctive gold. His suit was sleek black satin, the knee-length, high-collared coat cutting a rather dashing figure. The vest was black and gold brocade, shiny gold buttons and matching watch chain adding a little extra flare. In his hand was a polished mahogany cane with a silver handle shaped like a bird’s skull, and Nami wondered if it was secretly a sword like Brook’s.

Yes, she could admit Law looked very handsome, but it was a shit disguise. For god’s sake, he was still wearing his hat!

“You think some colored contacts and dying your hair is enough to fool people?” she said, exasperated. “You’re a Supernova; your wanted poster’s one of the most recognizable this side of the Grand Line. You didn’t even bother to cover up your tattoos!” she shrieked, pointing at his hands.

He seemed genuinely surprised at her criticism. “You think I should wear gloves, then?”

Nami could have screamed. She’d expect that kind of answer from Zoro or Luffy, not a man who prided himself on his intelligence. Grabbing his arm, she dragged him into the room, pushing him down into the chair by the mirror and snatching off his hat, tossing it onto her pillow. His lanky figure looked almost comical in the too-small seat, long legs sticking out awkwardly. “Stay there. You’re going to wear gloves, but if you need to take them off for some reason, we want those things covered.” Squeezing out some foundation into her palm, she mixed it with some bronzer until the shade matched his skin tone. “Hold out your hands.”

“I don’t care for being ordered around, Nami-ya,” he growled in warning. “Keep it up, and you’ll regret it.”

“Well, I don’t like the idea of getting caught and thrown in jail because you didn’t think the Marines would be suspicious of a guy with DEATH tattooed on his fingers.”

Though he didn’t look happy, he conceded her point, hands steady and still as she applied the makeshift concealer. Definitely the hands of a surgeon, she thought, admiring his natural control. It was comparable to her own when she picked a lock or drew a map; not so much as a tremor, even when under intense scrutiny. Pleased that the black ink was sufficiently covered, she quickly spritzed on some setting spray and finishing powder, hoping the foundation wouldn’t rub off inside the gloves.

Inspecting his face, she then tilted the captain’s chin up, dabbing some concealer under his eyes.

“The fuck are you doing, woman?” he snapped, jerking his head back as if she’d slapped him.

“Covering up those massive bags under your eyes.”

“The hands were one thing, but I’m not letting you put makeup on my face. Besides, I like the world knowing that I’m tired of its shit and ready to kill at any moment.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s totally the mindset of a respectable, non-pirate doctor,” she sassed, jutting out her hip in annoyance. “It’s not like I’m turning you into a drag queen; just covering up some of your more recognizable flaws.”

His brow twitched at the insult. “I’ll be wearing a mask, so why does it matter?”

“You can still see under your eyes, and they might make you take off the mask at check-in. Are you really willing to risk your ‘perfect’ plan because your fragile male ego can’t handle a little cover-up?”

“Oh, just listen to her, Captain,” Ikkaku chimed from her bunk, the Cheshire cat grin on her face declaring to them both that she was mostly getting involved for her own amusement. “Nami’s the infiltration expert here, and you’re the one who insisted she come with you. Just suck it up.”

“You’re fired,” he snapped, pointing at her sternly as he once more dodged Nami’s attempt to dab him with the sponge.

“You’ve fired me six times since I joined, and I’ll tell you the same thing I always do—get rid of me, and Shachi’s the most qualified person to touch up your tattoos. You want that?”

Law shuddered. “Fine, you’re not fired, but you’re on kitchen duty for a month.”

“Eh, fair enough. Now be a good boy and let Nami tart you up.”

His glare could have melted steel, but he stopped resisting as the navigator carefully covered up the proof of his insomnia. Nami had to admit, she was impressed; Ikkaku hadn’t been kidding when she said she had no fear of the Surgeon of Death. It was also nice to see someone else backtalk him, as most of the time the Heart Pirates seemed to worship the very ground he walked on. It made her feel less like the enemy.

As the dark circles disappeared, she had to admit, she kind of missed them. Even though they could make her tired just by looking at them, they were distinctive and a major part of his normal appearance, and he just looked so different without them. Younger, maybe, and less mysterious.

Normal. Boring. Just…not Law.

Sensing her scrutiny, he raised a dark eyebrow. “Something on my face, Nami-ya? I mean, besides the makeup.”

Suppressing a blush at having been caught, she replied, “Just trying to figure out if you need any highlighter or lipstick. I’ve got a lovely flamingo pink—”

“Try it and Mugiwara-ya will have to find a new navigator,” he snarled, the hard look in his eye and the openness of the threat sending a shiver down the spines of both women.

Not willing to risk her life just to embarrass a man, Nami backed away, hands raised in surrender. Relieved that he wouldn’t be subjected to any more of her powders or creams, Law inspected himself in the mirror, lips twisted in a grimace as he studied the difference it made to his face. Nami couldn’t tell if he was more annoyed at the indignity of it all or the fact that she’d clearly been right, but grey eyes flicked to his messy black hair.

“I guess the hat did clash with my outfit, huh?”

“To say the least.”

Without a word, he grabbed her hairbrush and began combing it back into something a bit neater and more respectable, even as Nami groused, “Don’t use my things without asking.”

“Fine. May I use your brush?” he asked, not even glancing at her as he kept brushing.

“No, you may not,” she snapped petulantly.

“Oh, dear. Whatever shall I do, then?” he chuckled, tossing it back on the vanity, smirking at her grinding teeth. His mood was infinitely improved now that he was back in control, and while Nami appreciated not having to worry about being dismembered, a minute part of her wished he’d go back to sulking. “Best get that anger out now, Nami-ya. Once we’re on the island, it’s all smiles.”

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

Getting out of the chair, he smirked down at her, pleased to once more have the height advantage so he could both figuratively and literally look down on the Straw Hat thief. “No, I’m enjoying this. What I’ll love is watching you try to keep that cute little temper of yours in check while we’re in public.”

“Asshole.”

“Only for you, sweetheart.”

A small vein throbbed on her temple. “Call me sweetheart again and there won’t be enough makeup on the Grand Line to cover up the bruises I’ll give you.”

“What an abusive girlfriend I have. I hope you at least kiss them better.”

“You wish. And if you’re going to be this much of an absolute prick all night, I’m charging you ten million belli per hour.”

“You want me to pay you to be my date? I wasn’t aware prostitution was part of your repertoire.”

“Congratulations; it’s now fifteen million.”

Ikkaku eagerly watched their back-and-forth like a particularly intense tennis match, grinning the whole time.

She didn’t feel particularly sorry for her captain or her roommate; both knew what they were getting into, provoking the other like that. No, she pitied the poor party guests, who had no idea what kind of unholy terror they were about to face.

Ah, to be a fly on the wall.

XXX

Tokken Island was one of the lushest and most beautiful little islands on the Grand Line, but the majority of the land was owned by Baron Harpin, forcing the port town to desperately cling to a jagged shard of the coastline while his enormous mansion and manicured grounds dominated the rest. Luckily, there were plenty of rocky outcrops and sea caves ideal for hiding the Polar Tang, and after teleporting his crew into position, the well-dressed pair made their way through the town.

“And why couldn’t you have Shambled us there or whatever it is?” Nami groused as she nearly stumbled for the third time. She was an expert at maneuvering in high heels, but that didn’t mean she was immune to the inherent dangers of cobblestone streets, especially ones so torn up.

Law chuckled as she finally accepted his proffered arm for support. The stubborn woman had refused to endure and physical contact with him until absolutely necessary, but it seemed the threat of a broken ankle before they could even get to the mansion had finally won her over. “My abilities take a lot of energy, and I’d rather save it in case we need to make a quick escape. Besides, I don’t want people getting suspicious if we pop up out of nowhere.”

She grumbled under her breath that he was probably doing it just to annoy her, even if, logically, he had a point. Wrapping her arm around his bicep for balance, she was finally able to turn her attention from the uneven road to the state of the town itself. Only about half the lanterns were lit, and what illumination they did give didn’t paint a very pretty picture.

The houses were run-down, roofs thatched haphazardly and some windowpanes packed with paper or rags instead of glass. The shops weren’t much better off, the display windows showing off rough-looking fishing supplies, underripe fruit, and cheap clothing. Only a few people were out, most looking worn-out or underfed, and those that didn’t stare at the pair of well-dressed pirates with envy watched them with hunger.

“If the Baron’s so wealthy, why’s the town in such a sorry state?” she wondered aloud. “I mean, just setting up this gala should have brought plenty of business to the port. Docking fees, restocking supplies, even sailors picking up cheap souvenirs—”

“There’s a private dock on the mansions’ grounds that he uses for deliveries and the like,” Law answered, barely sparing a glance at a skinny woman hoarsely calling out to passersbys, a basket of small trinkets thrust out towards them. “None of his business comes to the town—plus, he owns most of the farmland, so any crops are considered his property. All that’s really left is fishing, and the guy’s notorious for hating seafood, meaning these folks are shit out of luck.”

Biting her lip, Nami looked towards the woman again, freezing as a small child, yellow hair tied in twin pigtails down her shoulders, poked her head out from behind her frayed skirts. The little girl looked marginally less skinny than her mother, and without even thinking, the thief broke away from Law to inspect the woman’s wares. It appeared to be mostly jewelry—nothing particularly fancy but in the warm light of a nearby streetlamp she could tell it had been carefully made with decent materials.

“What are you doing?” Law hissed, looking around to make sure they weren’t drawing too much attention—most of the Baron’s guests wouldn’t lower themselves to pass through the slums like this, but he’d didn’t want to take any chances. That, and he wasn’t entirely sure there weren’t villagers desperate enough to try and mug them. He’d rather avoid a fight this early in the evening, and he didn’t want to get his nice, new suit dirty.

Ignoring him, she picked up a simple gold chain with a pendant made of four gemstones. They were beautifully polished, the marquise-cut purple tourmaline the color of the sky at sunrise. Their arrangement was reminiscent of Polaris, or perhaps the compass on her maps. “This is lovely,” she commented. “Is it locally made, or imported?”

The woman hastily explained, “My husband was once the Baron’s personal jeweler. He made beautiful pieces, but they were too simple for the Baron’s tastes. He wanted to impress lady callers, and demanded gaudier jewelry without providing the proper materials,” she said sourly. “My husband got sacked, and I’ve been trying to sell these off for a while. The necklace is 6000 belli on its own, or you can make me an offer for the set?” she said hopefully, indicating the matching ring and earrings in the worn basket, their delicate star designs winking in the dim light.

Immediately Nami could tell this woman hadn’t had any luck for a long time. The quality of the gems alone showed she was drastically underpricing the pieces. It was doubtful anyone in town could afford luxuries like jewelry, and if the Baron monopolized all the outside business at his own port, she probably never even saw other potential clientele. She was probably only even trying her luck now out of desperation. After all, you can’t eat gold, and with a small child to care for, any amount of belli would do.

“It would look really pretty on you,” the little girl murmured politely, large, purple eyes watching her in wonderment. Nami was certain she was the closest thing to a princess the child had ever seen, dressed in finery and on her way to an exclusive party at the glorious mansion on the hill. A real-life Cinderella, something out of a fairy tale she’d use to comfort herself on cold, hungry nights.

Nami had certainly been in those shoes, long ago, and she’d never been able to turn her back on a child in need. Her eyes were even the same color as the tourmaline in the basket.

Well, damn, she thought with a rueful smile. Poor kid could use a fairy godmother. Or at least a Cat Thief.

Pulling a black leather wallet out of her cleavage, she said, “I’ll take the set. How does 30,000 belli sound?”

Law’s jaw dropped as his eyes widened in recognition, immediately patting his pockets to confirm his suspicions. Coming up empty, he glared bitterly when the saleswoman replied, “Tha-that’d be perfectly fine!”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Law grumbled as Nami pulled out some bills, handing them over with all the care of a woman who was fine spending money that wasn’t hers.

The thief matched his glare, tossing him the wallet. “What kind of boyfriend wouldn’t lavish his lover with jewelry?” she huffed, giving the child staring at her with blatant adoration a conspiratorial wink.

“What kind of girlfriend pickpockets her lover’s wallet?” he countered, checking the contents to make sure he was only out 30,000 belli. Satisfied that the rest of his cash was safely in place, he glanced at the little girl, his scowl faltering as his eyes fell on the awestruck face of the little girl. Quickly, his gaze darted back up to the woman who wronged him, glaring like a basilisk.

Fluttering her eyelashes, Nami replied, “The kind who knows just how generous her lover is,” she quipped before turning back to the jewelry seller to collect her purchase. For a moment, a pair of gold barrettes inlaid with clear stones—possibly diamonds, again in the marquise cut—caught her eye, but she knew better than to swipe Law’s wallet twice in one night. So, reluctantly, she only took her purchase, patting the little girl on the head in farewell. When the kid bobbed a curtsy in response, Nami couldn’t hold back her giggle, returning the gesture.

That kid’s going to have one hell of a story to tell her friends tomorrow, she thought cheerfully, jogging slightly to catch up with Law, who’d been less than the image of a handsome prince by storming off up the road without her.

Joining her date, she rolled her eyes in exasperation at the dark scowl on his face. Even without his hat, his black bangs cast ominous shadows over his eyes. He was walking even faster now, and she had to work to keep up with his long strides. It was petty, petulant revenge against the woman who had dared to get the better of him. “Are you mad that I took your wallet, or that you didn’t even notice?” she taunted lightly.

Even from the corner of his eye, his hawk-like glare made goosebumps rise across her shoulders. “I’m mad because you wasted our time and my money,” he snapped. “I already bought you your dress, mask, and wig. My ‘generosity,’ as you put it, has its limits.”

“I’ll pay you back,” she ground out, refusing to feel guilty for her actions. That little girl’s smile had been well worth the price of Law’s irritation, but she also knew she had to appease his anger if they were going to pull off their grand scheme. When he scoffed, she added reluctantly, “With interest.”

“Why’d you even bother?” he asked, indicating the jewels in her hand.

Pulling him to a stop under one of the streetlights, Nami switched her original earrings out for the bejeweled ones. “It’s for the cover. I’m supposed to be a rich doctor’s arm-candy, and my boring pearls would have looked way too simple, especially with this dress. With these, I’ll blend in better.”

“You could have just stolen them.”

She frowned at him, genuinely offended. “I steal from pirates and rich idiots who can afford it. Did you see that woman? I’d bet all the treasure on the Sunny that any money she got went to feeding her kid. I’m not going to even haggle with someone in that kind of situation.” A soft, sad smile graced her lips. “My mother did that. Claimed she was on a diet when she really couldn’t afford to feed all three of us.”

There was a moment of silence as she turned away from him, hoping to collect herself before she started bawling at the memory of Bellemere’s sacrifices. Silently, she thanked her adopted mother, willing back the stinging sensation of tears forming behind her eyes. Ruining her makeup before they even arrived at the gala would do them no good. Besides, Law would probably have some kind of smart-ass comment about it.

The refusal to let her temporary captain see her so weak, she brushed away her sadness to focus on her new jewelry. Slipping on the ring, she admired how it gleamed under the warm lamplight. It was a tad too big, fitting most comfortably on her middle finger, but she found the style suited her. She might even wear the set on a night out sometime; maybe to celebrate tonight’s success. Assuming the plan didn’t go to shit, that is.

She jumped when he finally responded, “I hate to say it, but that does look good on you.” When she turned her head, she couldn’t fight the sudden blush that spread across her cheeks. Worryingly, she couldn’t tell if it was due to his sudden, intimate proximity or the small, appreciative smile lifting his lips. Such an expression seemed too gentle for the famed Supernova, and yet she found she rather liked the way it softened and relaxed his features. “You’re surprisingly soft-hearted for a pirate, though.”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, struggling to maneuver the tiny clasp through her thick wig. Suddenly having so much hair was a real pain, and she wondered how she’d ever manage if she grew her own hair out. Short was more practical, after all, and looked cute on her to boot.

“Here, let me help,” his smooth voice whispered in her ear, and she felt her curls carefully gathered to rest over her shoulder. Nimbly, he took the necklace and fastened it securely around her neck. Tingles ran down her spine as the smooth leather of his black gloves brushed her bare skin, and the whole thing felt strangely intimate. Turning her around, Law studied his date. The pendant rested just above the dip of her bountiful cleavage, sparkling invitingly. “I’m pretty sure it’s still too simple for this crowd, but it works better than the pearls.”

Her reply was cut off by the curls she’d pinned up tumbling into her face, only to be swept back into place, secured by his deft fingers. He cupped her chin, appraising his work before nodding. Suspicious, because Trafalgar Law’s approval was never a good thing in her mind, she reached up to touch her hair, russet eyes widening when she felt gemstones instead of pearls. Head snapping back to look at the mother and daughter, her jaw dropped when she saw the little girl holding a wad of bills, beaming even more brilliantly than before while the saleswoman looked close to tears.

Turning to her partner in crime for the night, Law responded with a nonchalant shrug, though she could see his grey eyes soften as they lingered on the child excitedly waving back at them. “The pearl clips didn’t match the rest, and if we’re going to pull this off, we’d best go all-out. Plus, that cash’ll ensure their silence should they be questioned by the authorities later. I’d rather your kindness not get us identified.”

It was all very logical and well-thought-out and total bullshit. Nami had to smile as she once again took his arm, matching his easy gait as they made their way up towards the mansion. “Right. Because I’m the soft-hearted one.”

“You’re paying me back for those, too, by the way,” he quipped, smirking at her annoyed growl.

Before she could argue, he halted; the brilliant lights of the mansion were in sight, and small groups of well-dressed guests were gathering at the ornate front gate. It was time to stop being Cat Thief Nami and the Surgeon of Death Trafalgar Law, bickering pirates, and become a loving couple. Gently as a forest stream, Nami adjusted her body language, leaning comfortably against her partner, hand clutching his bicep possessively, face switching from a seething scowl to the deliriously happy grin of a woman pathetically enamored with her companion.

For his part, Law seemed to morph into his role just as fluidly, posture straightening into something more refined, his smile relaxed and charming; perfectly playing the part of a man who knew he was smart, good-looking, successful, and could easily use all that to get a woman as beautiful as the one on his arm.

Inside, Nami groused that he had the way easier acting job.

As they made their way up the mansion’s long, winding front path, crushing artfully sprinkled rose petals beneath their feet, Law slipped on a raven mask, the sharp beak curving over his nose and the shiny black feathers fanning out like little spikes over his cheeks and forehead. Nami was grateful she’d covered up his dark circles—the eye holes were definitely wide enough where they would have been distinctly visible.

In contrast, her mask was modeled after a cat, the color and leopard spots mimicking her gown perfectly. It flawlessly concealed the upper half of her face, while the large eyeholes showed off her beautiful eyes and wouldn’t block her sightline too badly.

Approaching the doorman, Law handed over their invitation, smirking when the servant checked it against the guest list before nodding, ushering them both inside. Another servant led them down an extravagantly decorated front hallway. The doctor hadn’t been kidding when he’d said the Baron was an art collector with expensive tastes; masterpieces in gold frames hung along the walls, marble statues and painted porcelain vases were displayed on opulent pedestals, and even the crimson rug beneath their feet was luxuriously soft.

Nami had to briefly bury her head against Law’s shoulder to hide the belli signs that sparkled in her eyes.

Eventually, they reached the ballroom, and as they waited to be announced, Law affectionately brushed his lips across her hair. “Ready for some fun?” he murmured, his tone affectionate but the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips screamed of devilish intentions.

She mirrored his smile and tone, eager to line her pockets and relish in luxury for a while before the real job began. “Absolutely.”

As the ballroom doors opened, the servant next to them announced them to their fellow guests.

“Presenting Dr. Goodheart Adrian and his escort, Ms. Chaton Bellemere!”

[mobius-prime]

96. Sonic the Hedgehog #58

Friendly Rogues & Foul Villains

Writer: Ken Penders and Clayton Emery Pencils: Art Mawhinney Colors: Ken Penders

The crediting for this issue is all wonky. For some reason, the credits for the second story appear on the first page of the first story, while the actual credit for the first story appear right at the end. You can tell easily, because the first set of credits lists Manny Galan with the second being Art Mawhinney, but the art style of the first story is very clearly that of Art. I've just fixed it and credited them appropriately for convenience here. Also, strangely enough, the writing for this issue seems very rushed and almost unfinished. The writing is choppy, lines cut themselves off abruptly, and sentences don't make as much sense as they should. I can only assume this is because Kenders was busy writing for the KtE issues and didn't have as much time to spare making this one polished, but even then, you'd think the editors would catch it. Ah well.

So as you'll recall, we ended on Sonic and Tails meeting Yanar as he's thrown into the dungeon they're trapped in. After a brief period of surprise at seeing an echidna that isn't "Rad Red," a couple Robians, acting evil as though they were still under Robotnik's control, come in and detach Tails from the wall, dragging him away despite Sonic's protestations.

Meanwhile, despite having a bead on Knuckles with his arrow from the beginning, the Sonic clone in the forest instead jumps down to yell at him to "Stand and deliver, varlet!" and name himself as Rob o' the Hedge, basically revealing himself to be the hedgehog version of Robin Hood, complete with cheesy medieval-style dialogue. Knuckles immediately responds by flipping him into the water.

I like how everyone's responses in this arc so far to being knocked onto the ground is to immediately look up at the attacker and be like "You know what, I respect you. Let's team up."

Back in the dungeon, Sonic explains to Yanar how he and Tails ended up here. They tried to fly too soon after the Day of Fury rainstorm, resulting in their plane crashing and them being taken captive by a group of hostile robots mistaking him for Rob o' the Hedge. Gee, I wonder how that happened? Shortly thereafter, the robots come back in, this time to take Sonic away for questioning, but Yanar notices the shiny golden key they're holding to Sonic's shackles, and tackles one of the guards, grabbing the key in the chaos without them noticing.

As he's dragged out the door, he flings the keys back to Sonic, who easily catches them on the toe of his shoe and begins unlocking his shackles. Freedom!

In the forest, Rob takes Knuckles to a treehouse hideaway while explaining to him how his "merry band" were all captured and roboticized in the past, leaving only him to carry on the fight - and what's more, during the maybe one whole hour Knuckles and Mari-An were away, these robots already managed to enslave the entire tribe Knuckles was supposed to be leading to safety. Good job, buddy!

With that, the two form a partnership to get their combined friends back. Back in the dungeon, Sonic waits patiently until the guards come back to open the door, then bashes them up a bit before racing down the corridors to find Tails. And oh no, it's a horrific sight! Tails is strapped to the rack, and is being tortured for information by t- …uh… t-tickling his…

Ken Penders, I swear to god, you can't even deny that this happened, okay? I know you drew that one Lien-Da picture for a fan with her feet all out and being tickled by Eggman. Far be it from me to judge someone for drawing art for a fan, or for having a fetish that they want to draw art for, but for goodness sake Kenders, you can't pretend like it was all business when you specifically write this kind of stuff into your plotlines. I was so shook by Tails' feet being tickled all up in our faces like that that I almost missed the reveal in the last panel above that the interrogator is none other than General D'Coolette, Antoine's own father roboticized ten years ago in the war against Robotnik!

Sonic rushes down and quickly frees Tails, then tries to reason with the general, mentioning his son, but the roboticized general states he has no memory of the names Sonic gives him and begins to attack. Sonic dodges and refuses to fight, stating that he can't hurt him as "he's sick," which really just adds to the insight into Robotnik's frankly genius strategy behind the roboticization. Not only did it give him a growing supply of free, mindless labor, but it ensured that those lucky enough to escape would be reluctant to fight against their former family and friends, rendering them easier in turn to capture. I suppose the early comics were too goofy to go into ideas like the use of psychological warfare, but despite how serious that phrase sounds I can assure you the later comics were not at all afraid to get deadly serious at times, something which I genuinely appreciated. Anyway, enough of my rambles here - Tails merely unties a light fixture above General D'Coolette while he's distracted with Sonic, causing it to crash down onto his head and allowing the two to escape.

Back in the forest once again, Knuckles and Rob are walking along when they encounter a suspicious robed figure coming towards them. Rob steps forward to challenge the figure, who immediately takes offense to his words and whacks him right back into the water, impressing him once again. The figure is, as you might have expected… Mari-An!

Geddit? Rob and Mari-An? Like Robin Hood and Maid Marian? Hoho, so clever! They head toward the fortress where everyone is imprisoned, as Sonic and Tails run circles around that same fortress looking for a way out. Naturally, as Rob shows Knuckles and Mari-An a secret tunnel to the inside, the two groups bump into each other, allowing them to join forces.

However, as they reach the fortress' main courtyard, they encounter a horrible sight - Yanar on the hangman's platform ready to be strung up, with the echidna tribe being forced to stand and watch as the roboticized general makes an example of their leader! What a nail-biting cliffhanger! I'm sure there's no way they'll come up with a rescue in time starting next issue!

The Living Crown

Writer: Ken Penders Pencils: Manny Galan Colors: Ken Penders

Now that the king is back to full health, Dr. Quack decides to give him a very thorough checkup, something which the king is a bit grumpy about. Hilariously, Dr. Quack's first name is revealed to be Horatio, which is about the funniest name you could possibly give a cartoon doctor duck. I'm just waiting for Yorick to show up at some point now. For some reason, the king decides to explain why their country is ruled by a monarchy, which, okay, despite this line of conversation kind of popping up out of nowhere, I'm interested. I mean, I've complained enough about this world's system of monarchy and how it's only hurt more than helped, so it'll be nice to find out the why, right?

Well, as it turns out, when little Maximillian (because that is revealed to be the king's name, though it's still not anywhere near as hilarious as freaking Horatio) was ten years old, his father took him to a secret chamber underneath their castle, where he was amazed to see a pool in the center of the room that looked like it was filled with liquid gold and silver.

…this sounds disturbingly like a cult. Like, terrifyingly so. The king explains how the Source of All is basically the Force from Star Wars, and once one bonds with it they can see into the future to limited degrees and be guided by it like some kind of spiritual divination force. The king's sword and crown are linked together, and when he sent Rosie away with his sword during Robotnik's coup the crown "merged with" him, which I can only imagine as some hilarious scene where the crown just melts and goes into his head pores or something. Without the sword and crown's power to protect him, the king was captured and exiled into the Zone of Silence, but now that he has the sword back, his crown has returned as well, sitting atop his head this very moment. He begins to get a little unnervingly excited - it's not played off as such, but to an outside reader like me, yeah, it feels very cult-like, as he essentially declares that he wishes to put Sally through the same ritual even if she doesn't like it, something we're promised to see the next Sonic the Hedgehog issue. Oh, boy…

[yuu-draws]

Regarding Art Theft

Little announcement! I’m Yuu a 21-year-old hobbyist, draw mostly fanart and post on twitter/insta/tumblr/sonysketch 📱✏️🎨

twitter: yuudraws instagram: yuu_draws_ tumblr: yuu-draws sketch: yuudraws

I AM NOT in any way associated with the person “yuu_draw” on PopJam. It is so funny, that this apparently 16-year-old art thief and impersonator in one has ironically called out another PopJam account “yuu_draws” on - you guessed it - exactly the same thing they have done! Art theft.

So please believe the PopJam user Ryan_ckii who kindly defended me on the app! Thank you honestly. You’re an angel! 😇✨

I was never there nor do I have the intention to use this app actively to post my art, as it seems to be geared towards a younger audience compared to the people I usually interact with.

I hope you get me - for example on twitter, you (minor or 18+) are free to interact with me and also have the choice not to - or even block me if you want! It’s all up to you.

Just think about the content I could post/like before you follow me.

(I usually don’t, but maybe something nsfw I liked may pop up on your twitter feed! I’d hate if that happened to you! 🙊💦)

Well, that you should think about these kinda things honestly applies to pretty much every account you plan to follow on social media.

I’m just active on these platforms here to mingle and have fun with fandoms though! Mostly there for the cute stuff, multishipping and puns!

TL;DR

I am neither this person with the account “yuu_draw” nor “yuu_draws” on PopJam.

They are a liar and art thief! Oh, and that #YuuOC of their #yuuDrawsComp2019? It’s fanart I made of Princess Kenny from South Park.Not an OC you guys, sorry ~

Just going through the comment section under my stolen art, made me kinda irritated. I’m very chill and laid back about stuff, I don’t like fighting people, but you - dear PopJam Thief …. what you do it’s just mortally wrong. 😐

Also sad to see some people on there being ignorant enough to not care about whether the art is stolen or not. You should! You would care if someone stole your stuff and claimed it as your own, wouldn’t you? 😢

PS: The first post they stole from me was something I made to vent. It’s a girl with dark purple hair and eyes. No one knows, but I drew that while anxiously sitting in a hospital waiting room, after having been seriously worried the whole weekend prior about my dad’s health. So seeing it edited badly and them someone claiming it’s just a simple fan art of Yuri from DDLC is just… ughh.

Also, dear art thief - I’m addressing you directly now, this took me something like an hour or so to draw, not 2-3 as you claimed. But seriously, if you took that long to download, paint over the background and the character, as well as edit “your name” on the pic and crop it.. Uh.. well.

Maybe you should start small. Just focus more on sketching, thus getting faster and becoming more confident in your line work! You can still make fully finished drawings. Practise colouring as well too - separately. You know, there’s lots of line art uploaded by people that are free for everyone colour, as long as they give proper credit ~ 😉👌

Thank you to everyone who bothered to read this! 🙏😊

Art theft as well as impersonating people is bad you guys! Keep that in mind and have nice day ~ 👋

[toastydoodles]

(Art Blog) | (Twitter) | (Instagram) | (Storenvy)

((Had to get in one last post before the new year!))

I HAD THE MOST STRESSFUL FUN THIS OCTOBER doing these three conventions three weeks in a row, not to mention doing multi-day conventions for the first time! There were ups and downs but I had so much fun and by the end of my con season my brain was utterly fried!!

Thank you so so much to everyone who stopped by, and to those who followed me here sometime in the past couple months: Hello!! Thank you for supporting my art and I hope you enjoy your stay!!

That said, I’m gonna talk a bit about this con season. GET COMFY, ITS LONG

So con prep started in late August when I learned that I actually got into Kumori after having been on their waitlist for a while. I knew then that I REALLY had to kick my ass into gear lol

At this point, I was still in the middle of my 40 hr (+ 12 hr travel time) a week summer internship, so I didn’t have all day to work on my prints until the weekend, but my weekends were usually taken up spending time with loved ones and friends. Or gaming, since I didn’t have the time during the weekdays >_>

Then college came back around, giving me 4 classes, a student job doing graphic design, and club activities + homework! When I thought I’d have more free time, I actually had less! But with cons approaching, I drew more than I would have if I didn’t have cons AND found myself improving when it came to doing prints again.

The biggest issue popped up a week before BCC. LONG story short, I suddenly did not have a button maker to borrow anymore. I weighed my options: either lose money on potential button sales (which made up most of my sales in previous years) and shelf my button designs, or drop $500 on a button maker set to make them in time for Kumori and Jet City. This is also keeping in mind that I might not be able to do too many cons in the future.

I bought the button maker. But, since I am the luckiest daughter in the world, my parents swooped in to pay for it as an early Christmas present. I will be making so many wearable memes with this gift and I am GRATEFUL.

Another issue I ran into the WHOLE MONTH was not being able to take card. I’m forever rejected from Square (tl;dr, my phone glitched during signup and shredded through all the signup attempts I can possibly have. Customer service basically said “welp, sorry!”) and Paypal Here was entirely unhelpful, so I had to go the season as cash only. I won’t actually know how much this hurt sales, but it definitely hurt turning down some big purchases because I was one of the few vendors that didn’t take card!

I’ll definitely be looking into the alternatives for card readers soon! There’s a lot out there.

This year, I kept track of my sales and stock with excel sheets with formulas! It definitely kept things organized and helped me keep track of stock and see where patterns were, if any. It wasn’t perfect, but it helped immensely. I also kept very VERY close track of what my spending was like. 

I’m spoiling it before the end, but I was about $200 from breaking even. Luckily I’m not in a position where this loss impacts significantly, but it still stings! It could have been a result of multiple things, such as the hotel for Kumori being 1/3rd of my expenses ALONE, my choice of products/fandoms, not having ability to take card, and general attendee interest.

Let’s take a brief look at each con!

Bellingham Comicon

Glad to be back!

Bellingham Comicon has once again, been a joy. It’s a small convention but excited attendees pack the place and sales were good. A couple people recognized me from last year and I recognized a couple people too! I didn’t have my button maker yet but perlers seemed to be decently popular. I even made a custom Witch Mercy perler that sold 40 MINUTES INTO THE CONVENTION. It sold so quick that I didn’t even get to take a table picture until after I sold it! (I will say, when I put up that custom Sentai Genji, I upped the price a bit lmao)

I met a lot of amazing artists and got to do a bunch of art trades as well, something I haven’t really done in previous years! I was happy to see a couple familiar faces and meet some new artists too!! BCC is small enough that walking around and chatting to other artists and vendors is on the easier side.

I got a couple weird looks dressed as IT Damien from Dream Daddy, but was glad some people recognized me! I made some first impressions on some very cool artists in that cosplay haHA

While BCC is a comic convention, I didn’t feel out of place. There were lots of attendees that I would consider in my target audience and I didn’t feel like it was taking away from business. BCC is very much a comic and pop culture convention, with fans looking for all sorts of things!

Kumoricon

GOD WHAT AN ADVENTURE

Kumori was my first multi-day convention, and the farthest I’ve travelled for a con! Needless to say, I was anticipating this con since August, but didn’t know AT ALL what to expect.

We ended up driving down on Thursday and setting up that night, which definitely took a lot of the stress away. I also managed to compact my table and merch into a single tote, a print box, a bag to hold the wire cubes, + personal bags for miscellaneous stuff. So that was less stressful too.

Friday came and I was cosplaying Taako (which, as I found out, is 150% more fun to wear than IT Damien oops). The day was on the slower side, and some of my friends came by to say hi and ended up helping out at my table, giving me time to check out the artist alley!

Kumori’s artist alley was HUGE. And even more jarring: so many of the artists I follow on twitter/insta/etc were there. Somehow. Good lord, how many of you live in the PNW that I didn’t know about? I recognized an artist who’s art I love in line while waiting for badges and almost had a heart attack. Over the weekend, I met a lot of artists but it was only a fraction of the entire artist alley. I didn’t even get to meet all the artists I recognized!

So. Profit-wise, the con was kind of a disappointment. Oh boy, here’s a stat: I made about as much at BCC as I did at Kumori. In three days.

Again, this could’ve been a number of things. A lot of artists (many more experienced than me!), general interest, things I chose to sell, etc. But even so, many of the returning artists I talked to said it was slower than last year and some said the con is usually pretty dang slow.

But the con was fantastic in other ways. It gave me valuable big-con experience, some new art friends/mutuals, a fun time at the con and in Portland (good food!), and again, my favorite part, meeting a ton of cool, amazing artists and being able to make some art trades or to buy from them!

I definitely needed rest after this one. My brain was absolutely FRIED by the time we finally got back home and ate a late dinner at Shari’s.

Jet City Comic Show

Not even gonna lie, it was EMPTY most of the weekend!

I ended up having to table by myself, which wasn’t a problem with how lax it was. I even had time to doodle as well as finish a pen drawing! And I live pretty close to the show, so I could just head home once the days ended.

My table neighbor was super cool and I met a bunch of cool artists from all over the artist alley as well! This alley was pretty massive too, so I didn’t get to check out all of them. Being a comic convention, most of the artists were comic-based, with maybe a hand full of anime-styled artist from what I could see.

Many artists had their own published comics, and I enjoyed listening to their pitches (and took some comics home too!!).

My row didn’t seem to get a lot of foot traffic, but neither did the majority of the artist alley. And Sunday was even slower! Talking to other vendors, I found out Jet City is usually slow, but this year was slower than the last.

All in all, it was a nice quiet weekend and I was happy to meet more amazing artists at this con, as well as happy to get home and REST!

Overall...

This season was rewarding. Not in the money way, unfortunately. I’m lucky to be a position where it doesn’t affect me in a major way. But I’m always so excited to go to cons, and just being around fellow fans and creative minds is rewarding in it’s own way. I’ve also learned what to do and what not to do for future conventions should I continue to do them!

the real profit was the artists we met along the way

[notdeadjusttrash-blog]

My Friend has been Falsely Accused of Tracing So I Will Defend Him

Okay I accidentally deleted the blog I posted this one because I’m a dumbass, so I’ll just repost it here even though I don’t use this blog anymore, but apparently I still have followers. Bless caches because I was able to get this back from google caches so I don’t have to retype everything. I added further evidence and refutes to claims that were not in my original post btw.

Anyways, I am making this post to help out my good friend @5ru9 aka Falco who has been recently accused of tracing/copy pasting other people’s / official art!

I’ve known Falco for over 3 years, and we’ve grown as artists together. Once in a while we give each other advice on art (thanks for the mech and armor advice and teaching me how you line and color!), but most of the time we just meme each other.

Anyways, a lot of people have pointed out that they’ve seen him livestream before, and he’s already posted some of his block outs and other wips as proof that he does not trace in his post here:

http://5ru9.tumblr.com/post/168277137427/hello-i-have-been-informed-about-a-callout-post

To further prove his claim with solid evidence, I shall present to you!

Times he’s asked for advice on his art, or I randomly decided to mention things I notice in his WIPs!

Exhibit A-1:

A Tenkai Knight he made up! I pointed out a few things I thought were awkward about the perspective in his WIP.

Exhibit A-2:

He started working on this way back in July and didn’t finish it until much later because he was working on several other pieces at the same time. I suggested lowering the eyebrows and drawing the eyes a bit narrower to get more of the playful expression he was aiming for. In his final piece here, you can see that Falco continued to refine the piece.

By the way! The reason he sometimes posts a lot of detailed artworks one shortly after the other is because he sometimes works on multiple pieces at once! And then finishes coloring them around the same time.

Exhibit A-3

Falco and I spent good time trying to figure out why he felt like something was wrong with his sketch! I thought maybe it was the trapezius and I decided to red line (or blue line i guess) it so it’d be easier for him to see approximately where i thought the line should go to fix it.

Exhibit A-4:

The gif-ing process turned white bg into blue… anyways! Falco showed me an early version of his Tenkai Knights OC that he eventually used in an April Fool’s joke to pass off as a new character in the series. He mastered the tenkai style enough that at first glance, people really did believe it was official! Like you had to get a good look to realize Shiyu was not really a real new character! Btw I had to go into my old twitter acc to find this…. (Edit: the gif wasn’t working bc it was too big so i had to make it smaller… and choppier and stuff to fit the mb max)

Well now that brings us into!!!

Exhibit B

Some of his old art!! (I’m so sorry falco i’ll be exposing your ancient art to ppl now)

Here you can see his progress from 2014 Tenkai fan art to early 2015! It starts looking more and more like the official art, which is what he was going for.

For reference, here’s what the character Ceylan Jones/Washizaki looks like:

I blocked out fan art by everyone except falco (which i marked) that shows up in this google search. Everything else is official art. The two fan arts by falco you see here are more recent, the angel one being from 2016 and the chicken one from 2017 (i think he also made a version with sonic instead of the chicken? lol). They’re both on his dA accounts btw! The 2017 one really looks like official art, doesn’t it? But it’s his artwork! He practiced a LOT to reach that point, and I hope the earlier arts I showed above this one are enough to convince you in his art progression! Side note: i only used images w/ceylan because 1. i’m biased because ceylan is my favorite character and 2. he drew ceylan a lot because ceylan is his favorite character Also you can see his handle change from s3iwashi to burningbraven. 5ru9 is is a pretty recent handle.

ANYONE WHO HAS BEEN IN THE TENKAI FANDOM FOR A WHILE CAN VOUCH FOR HIM!!!!!

And now for the last one,

Exhibit C

WHAT? WHO IS THIS???

This is my favorite character from a Chinese series called AOTU World! His name is Grey, or 格瑞。I commissioned Falco to draw Grey for me, and let me tell you it would be IMPOSSIBLE for him to have copied any of this. Why? Because the donghua is 3D and the manhua’s art is very inconsistent!

Let me show you the reference pictures I gave him to work with!

They’re all in my gdrive folder here: https://drive.google.com/open?id=1CqwH5KS-pHX0ZqLHQpoIZBi6W-gsU_Tz

This is all official art from the manhua, except the 3D model is from the donghua. Look at how inconsistent the references are! There’s no way he could have copy and pasted or traced this! Grey doesn’t even do this particular pose anywhere. lol. I told Falco “give him a cool sword pose”. (I’m sorry for being so vague, Falco! But it turned out great!!) The style he ended up drawing in was a mixture of all of them.

Btw!! here’s the blockout and the sketch he sent me before I sent my payment for the commission!! You can see his construction in the block out!! The arm construction and leg construction is light, but it’s there. You can also see the block out below the sketch. Notice he actually fixed the leg length from block out -> sketch?

ARGUMENTS AGAINST SPECIFIC ACCUSATIONS

LOOK, thte actual drawing doesn’t even match the sprites that closely. Pay attention to the collar especially. The whole frankensteining the image and then painting over it thing is just way more effort than drawing it himself. They don’t even match that well in the overlays. Like wow it’s such a crime to try and stay on model.

WHO WOULD EVEN NEED TO TRACE A MOUTH LIKE THAT? IT’S SO EASY TO DRAW. I CAN DRAW IT PERFECTLY JUST BY LOOKING AT IT. (well i AM an animator so I also do style mimicking)

Doesn’t the fact that you have to edit the sprites to match his artwork prove that you’re just a tryhard in making up fake evidence and not a tryhard enough at art since you think it’s so impossible for people to draw characters on model?

Yes he referenced the broom and possibly the heels from this image, but your overlays for the leg and arms are disingenuous and you know it. The leg positions are different, and the overlay doesn’t even match up. Face tracing also makes no sense. You literally stretched the mouth to try and make it fit but it still doesn’t fit. Do you really think it’s that hard to draw mouths and eyes in the DR style? DR faces are really simple to emulate. Also you fool, if you follow Falco’s artwork enough, you’d realize the way he draws bodies is actually rather consistent even as he does different styles. Especially when it comes to hands. His way of drawing hands is how I recognize his art and know right away it’s his art and not official art or a trace (also his coloring style). The heels he drew are also reminiscient of how he typically draws shoes/feet. he draws them bulkier. The other art has dainty heels. At most he referenced how backside works because he’s used to drawing sneakers.

Also come on, if all you referenced from an image was a broom because you liked the style (his is also clearly drawn by himself since you can’t overlay it on the other one. like i said he mostly used the style as a reference for how-to-broom) and you referenced pieces from many other images, are you going to list every single thing you referenced? While yeah it’d be nice to, it’s a little ridiculous to expect all 5-20 references whenever they post the image. It’s a thing where, if someone asks, you’d tell them, but it’s too much to list all of it. This isn’t a 20 page thesis.

If it’s such a crime, then holy shit sue all those people who parody other people’s comics and sue everyone who dares!!! to ever draw something remotely similar to someone else. Dang.

Art doesn’t live in a vacuum.

Okay, this one is just plain stupid. You distorted the sprite to match it up with his, but what would be the point for him to distort it just to trace? Also if he traced, can you explain the rest of the fingers that are drawn nicely but clearly different from the sprite? Also the thumbs don’t even match up. His faces more downward while the sprite is facing more forward. Also explain the turned body in Falco’s sketch, then!! And the hair! OH WAIT YOU CAN’T EXPLAIN IT BY ANY OTHER WAY THAN HE DREW IT HIMSELF!!! BECAUSE NO SPRITES MATCH IT AND YOU CAN’T FIND ANY SPRITES TO DISTORT ENOUGH TO EVEN GET CLOSE TO MAKING FAKE EVIDENCE FOR IT.

By the way, the style he drew it in is closer to the drv3 than this sprite. while it’s pretty much the same style as the older games, drv3′s art is more refined than the older games. Falco’s art is also more refined as you can see. (wow not only did falco’s art improved from back when we first met; even professional artists improve. shocker. /s)

Dude what the hell? The overlays don’t even match up even ifi you tried to frankenstein them. And these are really common poses at really common angles, and once again, must every single thing we reference from be listed in the description of every place we post an image? Let me just list all 30 videos and 50 images i used as reference for one of my prints. jfc.

As for the saihara animation based on the digimon opening animation? It was pretty clear to everyone that it’s some kind of parody. Many people when making parody animations don’t mention the original video either?? It’s a fun thing for fans of the franchise to recognize the reference themselves. Yes he could have said it was the digimon opening on the description, but at least he didn’t say he thought of the idea himself? And if you talk to him about the animation, he will openly tell you it’s from digimon. And the fact that you think it’s a trace despite how much the overlays do NOT work out is practically proof that you’re just doing this maliciously and hoping that saying he traces enough with shoddy evidence will make people believe you.

ALSO PEOPLE LITERALLY TRACE ANIMATIONS TO MAKE PARODIES OF, DOWN THE STYLE WHERE ALL THEY CHANGE IS THE HAIR AND OUTFIT, AND YET SOMETHING WITH DIFFERENCES EVEN DOWN TO THE STYLE LIKE THIS IS SOMETHING YOU THINK IS A TRACE? Do you need a new pair of glasses?

I was gonna ignore this one because it was the same as a lot of the others, but you literally erased Falco’s face line so it would match the sprite, and you covered the bigger boobs Falco gave her, and totally ignored that the angle doesn’t even match properly. Like you covered parts of his sketch in your overlay just to make it look more like it matches, but if you actually fucking overlayed it correctly, even with squashing it, it won’t fit. (Also sorry to point this out Falco, but the circles on your goggle lenses are too small compared to the sprite; Maybe if you actually traced like this person claims you’re doing, they’d be perfectly like the sprite. OH BUT WAIT YOU DREW IT YOURSELF SO OF COURSE THERE’S SOME DIFFERENCES. JUST LIKE HOW EVEN THOUGH ALL YOUR OTHER WORKS ARE REALLY CLOSE TO THE STYLE AND PRETTY MUCH ON MODEL, THEY’RE NOT EXACTLY THE SAME WITH THE SPRITES! SHOCKER...!)

HOLY FUCK. I already pointed out and gave evidence that Falco started on the Nier Automata drawing waaaaaaay before he posted the actual picture. The 2 sketches are sketches! They don’t take a super long time. I busted out 10 inktobers in 1 day. (thumbnails of my artwork below)

Look I even even lined and colored 5 fairly detailed chibis in 1 day (i did the sketches earlier though. btw i hand drew the plaid on ray. it was annoying)

At the moment I have 5 wips. They’ll likely all be done around the same time. I know Falco often has multiple wips as well, and sometimes he also finishes some of them close to each other. Some artists (like my friend Fish) can pump out extremely detailed paintings in less than a day. WOW some artists can draw at a fairly fast rate. WHO KNEW? (manga artists in weekly magazines pump out 15-20 pages of manga in a week)

He’s still developing a style; he’s mostly doing style mimics of series he likes in the mean time.

At the moment he’s mostly experimenting with the drv3 style, but he was practicing p5 earlier. By the way, he DESIGNED a phantom outfit for mishima. Who the heck would he copy that from? He made it up because he loved mishima and wanted to make him part of the gang in some AU fan art. Mishima doesn’t have artwork like this for him to trace, so it should be obvious it’s his own work.

And the pokemon and crash bandicoot ones are actually not that close. The pokemon one looks like a good attempt at imitating the pokemon style, but since he hasn’t practiced it enough, you can tell it’s a little off model because, well, he drew it himself and doesn’t practice the pokemon style a lot. Same with the crash one. Had it been a trace, with his level of control over his lines (which you can’t refute), it would have been much closer.

And you act like it’s a crime to imitate others’ art style. It’s really not. What is wrong with you? Do you want to slow down animation production by only letting the character designer draw everything? Or do you want animation where the art has 0 semblance of consistency because all the artists draw in vastly different styles? lol. What do you have against artists that try to stay on model?

LOL THIS IS ONE IS SO STUPID WHERE DO I EVEN START?

Oh, I KNOW. Why don’t I do that same pose with my own hands?

IT’S A MIDDLE FINGER, YOU IDIOT.

Just because YOU don’t know basic anatomy and can’t tell a middle finger from a pinky, doesn’t mean everyone else is as incompetent as you. He wasn’t doing the rock-on hand pose (sry idk if that pose actually has a name lol), and he’s drawn the rock-on hand pose properly before.

Closing statement

I believe I covered a lot of things and provided a lot of evidence here that Falco and his other friends did not cover in his defense against the false accusations.

I even added more counter arguments in this repost because apparently my original post wasn’t enough to convince people.

Perhaps the person calling him out meant well (no, I doubt it because they made a new side blog just to diss him because they knew if they did it on their actual blog, they’d be called out for being a jerk), but they did not do enough digging to find out if their claims were true or not (and they probably know well enough that they MADE UP THEIR EVIDENCE).

If you’re going to make a call out post, please make triple sure sure of everything before you accuse people. Talk to them first. Talk to those who know them too.

Many jobs require you to be able to draw characters exactly in the style given. Animators for example! There are multiple animators working on one series, and they all need the skill to draw consistently! Some games also have teams that need to be able to draw in the same style so they don’t have to leave everything up to one person. Comic artists often have assistants that help them draw background characters, but those background characters can’t be too different from the main style either.

As for the people who believed the call out post before, it’s perfectly understandable. I am also guilty of falling for similar posts in the past. Due to that, I decided it was best to double check before retweeting (i say retweet because i use twitter far more than tumblr these days. heck i almost never post anything on this blog) things, and if i wasn’t sure, I would just leave it be.

I hope my post was able to convince you on Falco’s innocence and all his hard work. And if you already believed him but checked out this post anyways… Thanks! ObligatoryPleaseWatchAotuWorld.

And again:

Art does NOT exist in a vacuum. All artists are influenced by each other and MANY artists, especially professionals, use a lot of references, whether it be from photographers, their own pictures, others’ artwork, life, or whatever. We all use many different resources. If you’re going to say that’s wrong, you just dismissed millions of artists in the world.

[fairymascot]

WHY ANON (slams desk so hard it splits clean in half) I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED

now, picturing an au where max comes to arcadia bay after five years, rachel's there, no wacky time hijinks ensue and nobody's fucking suffering:

*rachel is genuinely SO hyped to meet max, though admittedly, it's got less to do with max herself and more with what she means to chloe. like, chloe would not shut up about max the whole time she's known her, and she sincerely sounds like such a sweet girl -- but also like the polar opposite of how chloe presents outwardly now. so getting to actually meet that goofy little shutterbug nerd who's owned a piece of chloe's heart since childhood is massively exciting to her. (and of course, gleaning Top Secret childhood info about chloe from her is a great bonus.)

once they meet, rachel's pretty much instantly endeared with her: she's so small and cute and fidgety, like a little pet squirrel! she's really fun to tease and mess with, and her reactions are adorable.

meanwhile, on max's end, her first impression of rachel amber is holy mother of intimidating, batman. chloe's built her up so much beforehand, but it still doesn't compare to actually being in the same room as rachel amber. she's like... electromagnetic. and almost definitely too cool for max to be breathing the same air as her. but she's also so NICE and friendly and not mean or condescending at all. so while max was initially feeling a little sour over chloe's best friend position being filled by someone else, she can't be actually mad about it. it's kind of impossible not to fall in love with rachel amber.

*though max is a little more reserved than rachel's used to, and rachel's way cooler than max is used to, they quickly find they can get a good conversation flow going, talking about art and literature and nerd stuff that chloe tends to zone out during. rachel offers surprisingly insightful commentary on max's photography, which catches her off-guard and makes her kind of embarrassingly fluttery on the inside. 'you should take my picture sometimes,’ she says with a smile. ‘i'm looking into modeling.' 'oh! oh. okay.'

*though rachel really enjoys teasing max, she's also very good at telling where to draw the line and when to pull back. she can see max struggles a bit in social situations with new people, and she wants to make sure that her reactions stay firmly within the 'adorably flustered' camp without crossing over to actual anxiousness. max really appreciates it, and she's kind of awed by it, too -- max is always doing her best to be empathetic and tune into what other people are feeling, but her particular mix of nosinesss and awkwardness can make it hard. to rachel, it just comes effortlessly, and it kind of blows max's mind.

*max feels a little out of place in her first week or two back in arcadia bay. even though chloe has accepted her back with open arms and rachel's been nothing but friendly, she can't shake the feeling that the two of them have so much more in common than she and chloe have now -- she's just this awkward nerd girl, and maybe they're only hanging out with her out of obligation...

though both chloe and rachel notice something's up with her, rachel is the one she ends up confiding in. paradoxically, it's easier to talk about personal stuff like this with someone she doesn't know so well, especially because she's worried that admitting it to chloe would just sound like guilt tripping. rachel proves a very sensitive listener, and instills new confidence in her, too: she tells max about how chloe puts on the pirate mixtape she made her in elementary school at least once a week, and how when they passed by a heap of old toys and summer clothes at the junkyard last month, she framed it with her fingers and went 'man, max would take a black and white picture of this and and call it farewell summertime, or some shit'. 

max feels better after that.

*rachel plays two truths and a lie with max. it is, after all, a time-tested bonding exercise. as chloe predicted, max fucking sucks at this game because she cannot lie to save her ass. she gives two completely mundane truths that no one would ever suspect to be false, then pauses, stares thoughtfully at her shoes, brushes at her hair, and comes up with some shit like 'i have a pet tarantula'. ('i've been to your dorm room, max,' rachel reminds. 'well-- yeah! i mean at home in seattle! my parents are taking care of him now. he's... bad with flights.') she's surprisingly good at picking apart rachel's lie, though, and rachel's impressed with her quiet attentiveness.

'but seriously, though. we gotta teach you how to lie.'

*rachel models for max, because i mean, come on, she’s gotta. max absolutely doesn't want to pass up this chance but she's also freaking out on the inside (and on the outside), because she's never actually worked with a model before -- it's usually just selfies, sceneries and candids. she's really worried it won't come out well and rachel will think less of her for it. she also has a minor heart attack when rachel walks into her room, drops her jacket on the bed, and says 'so is this where i take it all off, or...'

(when max just stares at her in terror, she laughs and says 'kidding, of course'. and the photos turn out really nice! so. all is well.)

*rachel absolutely loves that they're the same size and exploits the shit out of this, swapping outfits with max left and right. she thinks max looks hot as hell in her clothes, and while max can't really see it herself, being praised by rachel feels good. (her clothes always smell really nice, too.) she feels awkward lending rachel her clothes in return, because she has so much style and max really doesn't, but rachel always says 'oh, shush, your style's adorable' and steals all her lame hoodies and geek T-shirts anyway. and somehow makes them look drop-dead gorgeous every time.

*rachel loves dressing max up! she likes dragging her on impromptu shopping sprees, picking out bundles of clothes for her to try on, or just showing up on her doorstep and thrusting a bag into her hands with a 'here, wear this'. she's quick to pick up on max's aesthetic, and always gets stuff that's right up her alley, but just a little bolder than she'd usually think to buy: a bit more colorful, a bit more form-fitting. max finds the experience kind of embarrassing -- she doesn't want rachel to think she's some charity case -- but she can't deny that the outfits rachel pick out look... really good.

also, rachel LOVES matching outfits -- not in tacky over-the-top ways, but stuff like complementary color choices or little matching accessories. max really gets into the accessory thing too, and starts making a habit of gifting rachel goofy little nerd trinkets to match with. i'm talking stuff like this and this and this. rachel puts every last one of these on her keychain until it's considerably more chain than keys.

*in the venn diagram of chloe and max's music tastes, rachel is the overlap. she likes all of chloe's thrashy metal and angry teen angst hymns, and she likes all of max's weepy guitar tunes and cringy pop from 2003. max admittedly never quite outgrew her seventh-grade nsync phase, and rachel is a huge slut for nostalgia shit like that, as well as a huge slut for making chloe suffer. which means that car rides with those three almost inevitably end up sounding like a middle school dance party while chloe grumbles and huffs behind the wheel the whole way.

*they have like a million geeky marathons, staying up all night watching dr who and buffy and lord of the rings. while they're both big fans of the classics, max is the more active fandom-connoisseur of the two, and introduces rachel to a ton of stuff like obscure european sci-fi films, old artsy cinema, and like a metric boatload of anime. max's taste is all over the place and rachel enjoys pretty much all of it, even the outrageously bad stuff, because she has no concept of cringe and if anything just finds the dumb shit more fun. she will enthusiastically watch final fantasy spirits within with max and not even complain once.

she loves seeing max's eyes light up during the parts she likes best, or how animated she gets when she talks about it afterwards, sharing all this background trivia and her interpretations of the stories. max is really glad for the way rachel listens, even about stuff that obviously didn't grab her as much, but sometimes she has to stop and just kind of trail off mid-sentence because rachel's looking at her like she's going to eat her and leaning in and oh.

[11toe11-blog]

Covid Sitayana

Ramayana was an epic scale epic. Since we did not have the bandwidth for more than one Ramayana or Mahabharata - we decided to ensure another Ramayana never happens. 

So every other potential Sita was trained - a clear Line drawn - stand inside, well within the line. 

“How many times should i tell you! Stay inside”

Sita - “but the cow…”

“What cow? No cow! Stay inside. Always remember the line. Everything outside is Ravana.”

____

Notes on Kalari -- Dr. Priyadarshan Lal

Warm body- warm up

Being able to stand on two feet requires great balance. Not any other mammals other than humans - who start erect. Core- balance ( like cycle/swimming)

Drawing associations of etymology. Letter of Tamil are distinguished as.

Mei-ezhuthu-  Consonants. Mei --> Body

Uyir-ezhuthu - Vowels. Uyir-->Breath

---> Mei- payattu

8 types of postures:

Lion - cross legged and paw connect. Cross core

Elephant - simultaneous movements of the side. All of left shifts. Then all of right shifts.Strength.

Fish - turn. Flash turn.

Kukkuda/ rooster - flutter up and land

Horse straight

Boar -stright. lift.

Snake

Cat

All the postures appear in the meippayattu, obviously or subtly.

(*noticing how barteniff similarly constructed fundamentals based on evolutionary stages of embryo. In my experince so far, the manipulation of the jelly like that is strong and flexible and can contort and expand and realign etc, in connection with the breath, creates a posture if extended to the extremeties)

(pic courtesy: https://www.leisurepro.com/blog/explore-the-blue/5-harmless-species-jellyfish/) 

___

Empty handed combat. Win over the enemy without fighting. (*love and empathy)

___

Adhara chakra

(*he didnt elaborate, but from the adishakti workshop of many years ago i remember that each posture has an associated chakra basis. Maybe the movement originates or is held or passed through that particular chakra. Im yet to experience it. For fish and horse and elephant maybe i sense it, but i cant be sure)

___

I feel close to being done writing about myself. And my vantage at this point. I feel it would be nice to explore a subject in writing.

Like kalari. And where kalari meets ramana. Not scholarly sense, but for me. So that i can discover for myself the connections i have made. And the questions and blind spots are clearer to me. 

Looking at a dance journal called FUSE, i caught a glimpse of the dancer’s notes...the notes, the scores, seemed closer to my way of enquiring. Scores. Questions. Frames of observation.

What of the archetypes and narratives and characters? 

“We’ll isn't it interesting, that as well as you know your characters and the relationships between them, you aret compelled by dialogues - what they say to each other seems to be of no import to you.” 

 Yes. I cant seem to care much for dialogues insipte of all that auditory hallucinations. 

I feel - The dialogues are not spoken. They are actions. And in the body, their very being itself there is something alive and exchanging and transforming. SOmething that doesn't lean on words to do preliminary negotiations. Something that is, and goes in, and is being from the very start all they way.  Like mom keeps saying, actions speak louder than words.

Yes. And in their moving around and relating back and forth to the space and movements and changing landscape of their emotions/memories/ etc… changes takes place… in ascertain  kind of quietness. Cant call it silence.  Or in a certain kind of silence. Cant call it quietness. Or is it a certain kind of silence. 

But dialogues have no place there. Expect as inner soliloquies. May be as monologues. When it comes to rapid energy exchange, it physical. Not words.  Because words are diversions at best.

Most of the time. They appear when there is no choice, but to speak. And then  the words appear, and they appear crystal clear, to illuminate, to clarify. Not to veil and hide. 

___

Form is created by tension. Last night i was watching the mind. Or rather something was watching the mind. And i was in the mind trapped in its incessant chatter and looking from outside. The incessant chatter seemed to originate from a tension at the base of the skull. From something taut, like a string of a musical instrument. Though not wholly a pleasant feeling. 

In this tension, between this points of tension space is created and form appears. A is the tension between the two slanting lines whose base is pulled apart and wedged by a shot line. Form. Uyirzhuthu. K is the inclined upward and inclined downward push, directed to a particular single point on the vertical line.

Not sure if i would have been able to finally get a sense of the symbols used to denote english alphabets, if wasnt for my conversation with DK, aka Quirky.

Me: wait... i have more technical question ...how do you remember what you did on the floor?

and when does meaning emerge?

He: It's all in the flow

And it's the experience and the environment that the movement create that in turn gives the watching person to make meaning

Technically it's all about the flow and muscles memory

Me: but what of the mover? where is he/she finding meaning?

or is the meaning purely an experience of spatial truth?

He: Meaning is subjective isn't it

Me: yuss

He: It's like the color red and the redness of the read. Red

I guess redness of the red is what I am interested

Not what meanings people associated red with

Of course one can use association of the red to creat an emotion or mood but as a core the ness ness of something is the research

Me: do you at any point at all, as a mover dancer, remember being interested in what meanings people associated with red? or was it always about redness of red?

He: When is create it all about the Ness nesss but ofcourse once the composition and presentation of the idea start I do play with association of the given ideas or objects to create tention. 

But I also know if I considered the association I am closing a lot of other posibal reading

It's a balancing act

Me: mmmm

He: If I address the association more often them not I will be taking stands and sides

Which may be use full for certain works

But as a for being true to the work I find it enriching to look for the nessness of the idea

Me: Ness-ness is nice. very nice. i supoose it the most neutral position available to you while fully innit - if i must intellectualise. but ya... when i was asking you, how do you rember, i was coming from a simplistic space of notaton and mnenomics. but this redness of red gives me a btter answer tothe unasked question.

He: I don't remember I am not wired like that

Dicklessli. Lol

Its all in the flow and muscle memory

And ofcourse repetition

Me: relieff

just came acrosss this https://www.yumpu.com/en/document/read/63113284/fuse1

He: The useal lol . Gay and tamil mami

Lol. I know of the person who runs this project

Me: trust you to massacre! Nut!

___

I dint quite understand what he meant by this “ He: When is create it all about the Ness nesss but ofcourse once the composition and presentation of the idea start I do play with association of the given ideas or objects to create tention. “ yesterday.  This idea of creating tension using associations etc for the compositions and presentations and sharing… the point of outer reflection and feedback from the larger whole , as mirror.  Like R says, “only when the play meets the audience does it become a play”, audience provides that vital energy - that space- witness. ANd thats when the possibilities of the play star unfolding. 

What of traditional performers such as koodiyattam then? For whom the lamp is the only witness?

Also https://www.brainpickings.org/2015/07/06/the-aesthetic-of-silence-susan-sontag/

“Art is a technique for focusing attention, for teaching skills of attention… Once the artist’s task seemed to be simply that of opening up new areas and objects of attention. That task is still acknowledged, but it has become problematic. The very faculty of attention has come into question, and been subjected to more rigorous standards…

Perhaps the quality of the attention one brings to bear on something will be better (less contaminated, less distracted), the less one is offered. Furnished with impoverished art, purged by silence, one might then be able to begin to transcend the frustrating selectivity of attention, with its inevitable distortions of experience. Ideally, one should be able to pay attention to everything.”

“So far as he is serious, the artist is continually tempted to sever the dialogue he has with an audience. Silence is the furthest extension of that reluctance to communicate, that ambivalence about making contact with the audience… Silence is the artist’s ultimate other-worldly gesture: by silence, he frees himself from servile bondage to the world, which appears as patron, client, consumer, antagonist, arbiter, and distorter of his work.”

Both of which i resonate with to whatever degree of my experience  has been. This struggle of audience. And a certain withdrawal and dismissal and a sense of pursuit of something much larger than popularity or appreciation of peers. Which is questioned very starkly here by Sontag like a slap on the hand

“

Sontag recognizes that the gesture of silence in abdication from society is still “a highly social gesture.” She writes:

An exemplary decision of this sort can be made only after the artist has demonstrated that he possesses genius and exercised that genius authoritatively. Once he has surpassed his peers by the standards which he acknowledges, his pride has only one place left to go. For, to be a victim of the craving for silence is to be, in still a further sense, superior to everyone else. It suggests that the artist has had the wit to ask more questions than other people, and that he possesses stronger nerves and higher standards of excellence.”

Is that why i am still around. Hanging on nail and tooth. Because i havent proved myself in this world. That the way to Griffindor is through the corridors of Slytherine?

Ramana says, not necessary. 

Kalari says, if necessary, come to the pit.

Eitherways, the presence and absence of a living fluid core makes a difference to the experience and perception of reality and the energy to keep observing past its frames. So i show up the pit everyday. One way or the other.

[the-real-anywolf]

Our Writing Process

We decided to discuss our writing process with our first collaborative fic: One Missed Text. And, as usual, we got distracted by fucking tangents. Anyway, while we’re busy writing and editing a few fics that are finished and almost ready for upload, we figured our awesome readers/followers might like a little insight into our process.

Frankie here: So we decided to discuss a little more of our writing process with you guys, starting with our first collaborative fic. One Missed Text. While this is our first baby and will always have a special place in our hearts, it was also an eye opening experience as to what NOT to do when writing a fic. Case in point, we wrote c15 first and built the rest of the fic around it. Chapter 15 was the romantic plot climax of the fic, which literally started as me and Any texting each other as Dean and Cas for shits and gig’s before deciding, HEY! Let’s turn this into a fic!

Any here: Oh man, this seems like ages ago. But yeah, I remember that we wrote this totally out of order and we had a SHIT LOAD of editing and revising to do because of that. We learned to never do this again, no matter how much we wanted to write out a scene we were both looking forward to. There is also this other thing... and it's still kind of a problem. I mean, not really a problem per se, cuz usually this leads to pretty epic story elements BUT OUR CHARACTERS DO WHAT THEY FUCKING WANT!

Sometimes we have a plan. And then Dean and Cas do something completely different. It makes writing pretty unpredictable which is another reason we decided to NEVER write chapters out of order again.

Frankie: Yeah, what Any said. Because our characters have a tendency to take over, writing out of order disrupts that flow. On OMT we wrote c15, then probably c22, then c8, etc. etc. You guys get the idea. If we had written it chronologically, I always wonder if the story would have turned out a little different.

Not to mention, one of my regrets for the fic was making Dean so unsympathetic. Which wasn’t intentional and I actually got pretty defensive of his characterization. Another regret I have for one reason and one reason only. A reader by the name HeavenlyCreature had simply casually remarked about Dean being an asshole and not deserving Cas (which was entirely true). And I kind of lost it on her. To such an extent, she apologized and said she had no intention of commenting on someone’s fic now.

Seriously, this was almost a year ago and I still regret how I came at her. I was a cunt and out of line and I can only hope she still does comment on fics she likes, even if those comments are constructive criticism. If you ever read this HeavenlyCreature, I am still sorry for that.

Any: Oh man. I had no idea. o_o! I'm sorry you still feel bad about that and I hope HeavenlyCreature still writes comments on fics. Speaking of comments. Oh man, I'm so bad about replying to them. I must confess I'm very happy Frankie does this. I never know what to say. She also write our tags, summaries and the notes. If you know my solo fics you know why. I often don't tag more than six words and my summaries are often just one sentense. And notes... well... what notes? I mean, I don't even have a facebook account.  

So this, writing notes and doing this blog is kind of practise for me. Me coming out of my shell.

Frankie: Yeah, I do. Once in awhile I think of it and I feel remorseful.

I LOVE when Any writes notes, or tags, or whatever, because she is so reticent. In case you guys can’t tell, I overtag. Although I’ve recently been thanked for my crazy over-tagging, so that makes me smile. Yeah, so a majority of the time, I’m responsible for the ridiculous tags, the summaries, and our notes are shared, I don’t know what the hell crazy ass Any is talking about with that.

Any is usually responsible for the titles of our fics and the majority of the plot, plot twists, etc. Any has a fucking amazing brain sometimes. I swear, I’m constantly in awe. But you guys have read her stuff I’m sure. You’re probably well aware.

Ooh. A fun part of our writing process is the actual way we write our fics. So basically, this is how it goes: Whoever’s POV it is (Cas or Dean’s) is responsible for the majority of the narrative. So, say it’s Cas, thus Any is responsible for most of the narrative. The exception being any time interacting characters I write get a narrative to indicate their actions or reactions to the dialogue.

And as far as who plays which minor characters? That’s pretty much up in the air. There’s no consistency. The closest we came was In a Mirror, Darkly. In which I was responsible for all of the original human characters, and Any was responsible for the original angel characters. But even then, we switched it up. Any played Kris in a lot of scenes, and I played Barbatos in the third part of Ira.

Any: It's funny that you still know what you wrote. I sometimes re-read our stories and I'm not sure anymore. I mean except passages with words I have to look up in a dictionary. Although that reminds me, that you once commented on something (I can't remember which story or what the words was) and you wrote "What the fuck is a [xyz]?" And I answered, "I have no idea. You wrote that!"

Oh man, seriously guys.It's a shame you don't see our comments on our fics. They are hilarious. We should make a top 10 or so... what do think, Frankie?

Frankie: That’s a fucking brilliant idea. Half the time our comments on our fics are snarky: “TAKE THAT SPN WRITERS!” or basically hating on google for trying to confuse the everloving shit out of an ESL author, but yeah. I like that idea. Some of our comments are just fun as hell.

And also, yes. Half the time we can’t remember what the other wrote and I just remember that on IAMD because we tried to stick to our original characters for the most part in that fic lol.

Any:  Oh yeah, that's right. :D Apropos sharing writing secrets and funny incidents... the stick figures!!!!!

We shouldn't forget the stick figures. Sometimes I have a hard time describing stuff so I draw stick figures to ensure Frankie and I are on the same page. I had to draw one in "Relax, Sunshine" (the bath scene) and I recently drew a few for "Terminal Velocity" (which is going online soon).

We also recently discovered another writing method to keep us on track. Yeah, so the thing is Frankie and I, we are the worst destiel shippers ever. Seriously. You know how often we write OC characters and then we start shipping them with Cas. So in one of our new fics that will go online soon, we started to ship Cas again with an OC character. BUT we didn't to happen anything between them in the story. So, to not get off track, we wrote an outtake scene with those two characters to get it out of our system. And that worked surprisingly well.

Frankie: What Any isn't telling you, that first outtake was originally going to be a diverted version of the fic. We were essentially going to write a whole different story with Cas ending up with the OC as an option, if our readers were so inclined, and motherfucker by the time we were done, it still led to Destiel.

But yeah, we have a really bad habit of shipping Cas with anyone but Dean sometimes. I make light of it, but in OMT, I genuinely wanted to kill off Dean so Cas could stay with Dr. Alex.

Any: Hehe, yeah I was so happy with how many of our readers liked Dr. Alex. I mean, it was a destiel story and we wrote an OC character as a competition! I thought this character would be hated but it worked out and I was super happy. I love the OC characters we create :D.

One a personal note OMT was also the beginning of me painting again. I hadn't done this in ages and I practise and learned a lot in that time. And I wanted to thank everyone who commented on the pictures. That was very nice :D

Frankie: Oh, man. Any’s fucking art. It’s a thing of beauty. Oh yeah! Any is responsible for every single cover art for each fic, too. In case you guys didn’t know that either. She’s a goddamn miracle.

Shit. Now I feel like a slacker. LOL. Any does most of the work!

Any: LOL, so not true!! You do all the beta stuff, which is a shit load of work! Besides Painting is not working lol!

Frankie: UGH. Yeah, my beta process is ridiculous. I do an initial run through (half-assed beta) of the fic, then a slow beta of the fic in its entirety two more times (AND I STILL MISS SHIT UGH). Because I’m a dyslexic asshole. UGH. Anyway, yeah, I do all the editing and beta work for our fics, with the exception of The Heart of Ophelia, because it required an outside beta for that bang.

What I loved about that was our beta is a Wincest shipper. I think that gave her an edge, because if it’s not a pairing you ship, it’s generally easier to not get attached to the characters and just read the content for what it is. Any and I are also pro wincest and destiel shippers working together, because we both think the ship wars/ship hate is asinine and unnecessary.

Any: Yeah, Ramen to that. Seriously, I never got that part of the fandom where people throw hate at each other. Isn't that just exhausting? I mean, maybe it's because I'm a spoonie, but seriously if I don't like something I wouldn't waste energy on it. I rather spend my time and energy on something that makes me happy..

Frankie: Yeah, I’m not a spoonie and I don’t understand the point of wasting energy on it. From both sides. Destiel shippers are just as guilty about being cunts as Wincest shippers. Or should we say, Destihellers and Bibros. Seriously, Wincest might not be my cup of tea, but that doesn’t give any of us the right to attack people who do ship it. I say: let people ship what they want!

Any: You going as Preacher Barbie this Halloween? :P

Frankie: LOL. I love when you’re a dick. And actually, in fact, I’m going to be Rocket for Halloween thank you very much.

Any: You created a monster, lol. BUT OMG ROCKET! I WANT TO SEE PICTURES WHEN YOU R ROCKET.

Frankie: You ABSOLUTELY will! LOL. AND YES MWAHAHAHAHA. Soon you’ll be calling people cunts!

Any: Nope! I won’t! I’m staying strong!!!

Frankie: One of these days. LOL. Anyway, so, uh? What were talking about? Oh yeah! Our writing process. LOL. Well, one more thing I think. So, I don’t know if it works like this for other coauthors, but because Any and I are brain twins, our writing is pretty easy. Like, we honestly write incredibly long fics with an ease that is astounding. IAMD, our almost 200k fic, was written in a couple of months. Seriously. August to December. And that’s including Frankie going out of the country to do volunteer work for a month and our real life obligations as well. Friggin’ nuts.

Any: And we sometimes... write like 2 or 3 fics at the same time...

Frankie: Like we are right now. And I’m beta’ing two of our other fics while writing the two with Any, as well as working on this blog posting. LOL.

Any: And I ‘m working on a cover for one of our new fics but pshht it’s a secret.

Frankie: FUCK YES YOU ARE YES YES YES YES YES!!!

Any: Oops

Frankie: Alright fuckers. Any and Frankie OUT. Keep your eyes peeled over the next few days. ;)