#This was a load of fun to draw and took a lot less time than i expected it to (weird)

[arthur-lesters-spinal-cord]

You know someone oughta tell them that coins don't land on their sides

Kayne design by @thecatspasta

[smackins]

Not to be THAT guy, but I really need to bare my soul here.

I don't know if I want to do Artfight anymore.

While I'm extremely grateful for the attacks I did receive this year (I still owe 2 revenge pieces, don't worry, I'm working on them ❤️) it's become less fun and more of a reminder of how isolated I feel as an artist. I got a total of five attacks this year. I have friends who were attacked right out of the gate, on the very first day, by a barrage folks who were chomping at the bit to draw their ocs.

It's not Artfight's fault, and not really other people's fault, either. I'm not like, "How dare you not attack me!!111!!" It's just it amplifies so many insecurities I've had for years and makes it hard to ignore them.

I get an overwhelming feeling like there's something wrong with me as an artist, not even that I'm medicocre skill wise (though I feel that, too), but that I'm just fundamentally uninteresting and forgettable. My characters and my stories aren't worth asking about. They aren't worth anyone's enthusiasm or curiosity, they're not worth the encouragement. I can share a piece that I spent 6 hours on and just get "cute" as a response, while others could share a non-serious doodle of their ocs that took 5 minutes tops and get responses like "AHHH I LOVE THEM THEYRE SO AMAZING YOURE SO FUNNY."

And I know it's not good to compare yourself to others, but sometimes it's hard not to when everywhere I go, it feels so blatantly obvious how I'm barely worth anyone's time.

At first I thought it was the fact I draw non-human characters, because those are hard for people, so I made a little note on Artfight that I'll accept humanized versions. But plenty of people draw nonhuman characters, all the time, and recieve lots of encouragement and feedback from other people. Then I thought, "maybe it's my original comic characters that intimidate people" you know, my weird scorpion aliens. But that's not it either, because they're admittedly a lot less "alien" than they could be, and I know people with some absolutely WILD speculative-biology-type character designs who, again, get loads of enthusiasm and feedback. Plus, that doesn't explain why my fan ocs go ignored- plenty of people like Digimon, Mass Effect, and DBZ.

I feel like I'm just weird and tainted and cursed somehow, which I KNOW is absurd, but that's the best way I can describe this frustration. And yeah, I know if I posted more art and more about my characters, I MIGHT get a little more traction, but when I get so little encouragement from so few people, it's so hard to feel motivated to share. And it's not like I'm looking for huge, detailed responses or specifics about why people like my technique or whatever, because God knows I struggle to form specific words as to why EXACTLY I like something, but I just want to feel like people give a damn and ACTUALLY want to know more. Very few people ask questions or get curious. I have a lore blog for my original comic that has been up for 7 whole years, yet the only questions or comments I get are from the same 2 or 3 (very lovely and appreciated) people. Most of those posts have zero notes, a ton of them have been reblogged to my personal blog over, and over, and over again and still get ignored.

This isn't about popularity, or notes, or anything like that. I just want to feel like what I put into the world matters. Yes, I do get satisfaction from drawing for myself, but that can only go so far when I feel like I'm the little kid in the corner playing alone because the other kids don't notice me.

[justabeewithapen]

:0 if you have ideas for a maskless hero drawing then i want to see it! but if not then what would the others reactions be if they see him without the mask(considering TLQ didnt know that it was a mask i think the others would have the same idea except for contrarian)?

I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!! I had these grand visions of drawing all of them, then that task was so daunting I kept pushing this back. I didn't draw everyone, but I did draw the most important one. Firstly, the list of people who knew Hero's helmet wasn't his face: Smitten - While a peaceful creature himself (unless righteous justice is needed) Smitten has seen the after-math of other employees from less kindly monsters. His first and only concern when seeing Hero was fixing that man's horrible haircut. No one knows how he learned to cut hair considering his head is a skull, but I don't think anyone is brave enough to ask. Cold - One of the less peaceful monsters, he's blown a few heads off employees before and has picked up on helmets because of how they shatter. He thinks they're more like some sort of artificial shell employees wear for protection like they do the nutcracker body, and they're not far off! Cold would mock Hero for willingly leaving his protective casing and then would be tackled by TLQ as he loads his shotgun Contrarian - Being a masked they obviously know how people work. If he ran into Hero without his helmet he wouldn't be too different. Assuming Hero lets them, they would be far more touchy-feely and grabby, and more of that 'blood' substance might leak from their face on instinct. They wouldn't convert him, but it would be more obvious the urge is there. Skeptic - While he can't see he has pieced together from the way Hero talks that he wears something over his face. Skeptic envisions it more like a carapace situation like bugs, physically apart of Hero and hiding the squishy undersides. If Hero allowed (he would but he would be very anxious) I think Skeptic would want to sniff and feel Hero's face with his own to get an idea of it. He would also probably suggest Hero get his hair preened by Cheated because he is very good at it. Stubborn - Stubborn has eaten a lot more employees than Hero would be comfortable knowing about. It doesn't make any difference to Stubborn, but he would make fun of Hero's "baby face" because he doesn't have any scars. Secondly, people who did not know the helmet came off: Broken - Broken is always very touchy-feely when interacting with Hero. Because his acid is so light Hero's suit is perfectly capable of resisting it for pretty long periods of time. The same does not apply to skin however. Broken would probably try and climb up Hero like it normally does, only to be startled out when Hero freaks out because their goop burns on skin. They would """"run"""" off to mope until Hero finds them to promise there aren't any hard feelings. Cheated - Like Stubborn he immediately comments on Hero's lack of scars. While startled to find out the helmet wasn't Hero's face, Cheated is pretty quick to accept that fact and move on. He would offer to preen Hero's hair and would actually be more comfortable around Hero. Having a face to read emotions off of makes him more comfortable, even though Hero normally has a very expressive voice. Hunted - Hunted already has fairly bad eyesight, so the only thing this changes for him is that it is slightly easier to separate Hero's head from the background of facilities. Normally Hunted stares at Hero's chest when they talk because his bright green suit is a good spot to focus on. The thought Hero also has an exoskeleton is easy to understand, but Hunted would be freaked out at the idea Hero is putting back on his old 'molts' instead of moving to new ones!! Do you want to be less protected squishy friend???? Opportunist - Similar to Hunted it is not hard for him to accept that Hero has an exoskeleton. He is less caught up on the removable aspect, but he is suddenly very interested in the helmet itself. There is no way he didn't try and steal it at least once... or twice. Paranoid - Very much freaked out and bothered that the helmet isn't his face. The first time Hero takes it off Paranoid has a breakdown trying to figure out why Hero is

[auberylis]

We have basic action!

So far the only things available are toggle switch, wire and the AND logic gate. Runs at 100 ticks per second and doesn't load up the CPU too much. I will have to optimize this crap until it can run 1000 ticks per second, though - less is just sad. But hey, we have working AND cascades now :D

It is naturally not an academically correct sim. Each basic device takes a tick to update. When subcircuits roll out, their propagation delay will depend entirely on their contents. This is similar to the way CD4000 logic has propagation delay, but defined by "in-game shits" rather than something scientific.

My plan is to make it run as fast as possible with some disregard towards authenticity, so that i can make some 8-bit CPUs out there - existing sims are too slow and/or compute too much stuff. That said, i have something even Falstad doesn't - undefined wire states. Because, well, until a wire is connected to some low-z output, its voltage is undefined - so in my binary logic simulator, stuff is actually ternary :D tri-state buffers coming Soon(tm).

Also: crude dark mode! The code is smart enough for users to create their own visual settings - not just colours, but also wire widths, etc.

Phew, took me just three days. Glad i took the time to organize the code bits neatly - programming a clock generator device took me literal 2 minutes by using the existing definitions. Very handy.

Not sure why i decided to make it a browser tool though. I'm losing a lot of speed because of it being Javascript, even while i'm using probably the fastest drawing library out there. Guess i just want everyone to have fun when i put it to my web site

[bigbrainkatrina]

Say The Name

This is a sequel to my fic, Check the Name. But can be read as a standalone. Sans Ron, Kim is building a new Team Possible. She’s already recruited Drakken, now she has her eyes on Shego.

"You want me to WHAT?"

Kim sighs, wrapping her arms tightly around her chest to give her some warmth under the dark of the night, and eyes Shego with heaping amounts of intention. She speaks in a level tone.

"I want you to become a full time member of Team Possible. You won't get paid for any of your efforts, but none of us are and that's okay, because we're doing the right thing and the people's compensation can be better spent elsewhere. I want to you fight with us, operating off of programs and services that are solely engineered through donations and the good will of others. I want you to stand besides me day-in and day-out, sacrifice your free time by always being on-call so that you can respond to every disaster that need our assistance."

Kim gulps. Talking about mission stuff? That's easy. But personal stuff? She looks into Shego's emerald eyes and briefly considers the thing she actually wants to say to this snarky woman, this — person who despite all the murder attempts is actually quite charming. This funny lady who loves to tease Kim and never goes that hard on her. This quote-unquote enemy who's taught her an entire Bachelor's degree in survival skills. This person who is — ugh.

Family.

Kim said it to Drakken, and he told her that he always saw her as a daughter. He's part of Team Possible now, and that was surprisingly easy. So why is this so hard? Kim's mouth opens for the full load of pathos but it catches in her throat. Kim sees Shego's cold demeanor and blinks. Coughs to play off the weird lapse and returns to the herospeak. "In short: I want to save the world with you, Shego."

Shego blinks and rubs her eyes as if she just woke up from a colossal sleep.

"Ugh, Kimmie. Rhetorical. Yawn."

Kim bites her lip. She accounted for this. Obviously, Shego wouldn't take it seriously, and now she's marching over to the wall of Dementor's fortress. "Shego, please. You know we're legit. If you want to make a difference this is it. We're the most effective group there is out there."

Kim bites her lip for a second time. Actually draws a little smear of blood. Ever since Ron took off for his full-time gig with Global Justice, she's been tongue tied. Because her best friend and life partner is too busy to remember a Skype date. She doesn't hold it against him, it just means she talks to people a whole lot less than she used to.

Shego twists her head back and arches an eyebrow so high that Kim's surprised it doesn't shoot off her face and right to the tippity top of the wall Shego's about to scale up. But then again, Shego has always held expert control over her emotions. Just because Kim can't help but give every thought and feeling voice by letting them crawl onto her face doesn't mean everyone does.

Shego twirls her grapple hook in widening circles. "Since when did you start talking like an army recruiter? If I were you, I'd lay off established mercs like me and check out your high school campus."

Shego lobs the hook high, high into the air and it just makes target, crashing into a lip of the stone wall. Shego pulls on the rope and the hook doesn't move an inch. She cackles and returns to Kim. Rests a hand to her hip. "Or is that too soon for you?"

"Making fun of my age?" Kim deadpans. "Isn't that a little dry for you?"

"Yep," Shego shrugs, casually beginning her climb. "Don't really care. See, I have a big, spicy paycheck waiting for me and I don't want to be distracted from the hot vaca I'm scrounging from it."

Kim's a little relieved Shego's not looking; lets her release that anger into that eyebrow flicker. Shego would notice that after all. Since both women are intimately aware of each other's physicalities — no, not like that. They just know what to look for in the other, how to gauge their feelings. And if Shego looked back, she'd see that Kim's pretty hurt and even though Shego doesn't actually like being a big jerk (Kim and Ron's theory) and she'd say something humiliating.

Y'know, to add insult to injury. Kim's been feeling down for a while, so much so that she can't even call it a secret anymore.

So Kim makes the first dig. "I'm sure Big Daddy Brotherson gives you a lot of benefits. But more often than not, you're taking out dirty politicians and businessmen."

Shego freezes, knees wedged sideways into her gut, hair falling past her shoulders and aligning perpendicular to the ground she's now twenty feet above. Shego hesitates, but snorts off the decision and proceeds to scale the stone wall.

"Shego — " Kim groans, voice getting farther and farther away. "You don't need to be a super-villain with plasma strength to pick someone off from miles away. Please."

That one gets her.

Shego stops and runs her feet up the wall like she's going up a half-pipe, swiveling 180° so she can fully see the red head. She grabs her long raven locks and pushes them aside. "Sure, Princess. I miss the good old days. But this stuff pays, and besides — I've already saved the world once. I think I've done my time."

Shego hands there for a moment, body arched in a position that's surely uncomfortable. Kim has seconds to collect herself before this conversation is officially over.

"Shego, don't you dare try to convince me that what you're doing is good. You know what happens when you ice the CEO to a fast food chain? His son whose name probably ends in a Jr. inherits it."

Shego's eyes darken, but her mouth curls high. "Ice, Princess? You afraid to say the word kill? Or are you just upset that your stinkin' BF is doing that all the time?"

Kim's cheeks sting and she looks away.

"See," Shego drawls. "You can't even stomach that. Think about what working with me would be like. That's why I'm saying no."

"I don't think that's why you're saying no."

Shego blinks. Kim steps forward, awfully defiant. There's another weird lapse. This is the part where Kim is supposed to explain why Shego is saying no. It'll be emotional, maybe some tears, and finally these two estranged women will reconcile.

Kim mouths something indistinct then scratches the back of her head. In a low voice, she says, "Ron's not part of the team anymore. It's just me on the field and you know how everyone's been picking up the slack since Lowardia. I'm good but not that good. I might — erm — die out there and — that's not going to stop me but — a little muscle would be good."

Shego momentarily softens. She's never seen Kimmie put herself down like this. Not her best look, and certainly not the girl she used to go toe to toe with on the reg.

Also — Ron's the super-powered Big Kahuna now, huh? Super weird. She's still processing that one. Like, where's Jenna Wortham and Wesley Morris when you need them?

Shego dismisses Kim with a wave. "Nah sorry. Not convinced. Anyways, I gotta go and take care of these mutant petunias or whatever Dementor is using to take over the world this — "

"Which incidentally is my evil take over the word scheme!" a gruff voice barks through Kim's earpiece. Kim claps a hand to her face and cringes from the blown out speakers.

"Drew — " Kim swears under her breath but it's no use, Drakken's in full swing now.

"How dare he use my strategy and my smartest most refined geniusest brilliance to — "

Shego blinks. Leans as far down as she can without dropping off the wall. "...Drakken?!"

"Oh," Drakken mutters from the end of his line. "H-hello Shego."

"Yup," Shego shakes her head and finally throws her body back into proper posture for climbing. "Forget it, Princess."

Kim hoped that by the end of this conversation, she could stop clenching but now — the clenching persists. She watches Shego throw herself over the fortress wall and vanish, taking the grapple line with her. Not that Kim doesn't have one on her, but ya know — message received.

She turns on her heel and looks out at the rolling waves way down below. Even as high up as she is, little drips of seawater pelt at her face.

"Now what?" Drakken stutters.

"Plan B. I'm busting in. Not using Shego's route obviously because that'd be lame," Kim paces around the stone wall and looks for a different — better — opening.. "Hey Drew?"

"Yes, Kimberly Ann?"

"Remind me to not let you ever throw anyone a surprise birthday party."

=KP=

Despite the doom and gloom gray of Dementor's fortress, all Kim can see once she hits the arena is bright, vibrant turquoise. Turns out Dementor's mutant army of petunias are actually quite deadly, moving so fast that the green vines, no matter how thin, blur Kim's entire scope of vision. Paired with Shego's plasma bolts, it's a wonder Kim can make out anything. She doesn't want to admit it, but she's a little unnerved by it all.

Every big leagues villain retired shortly after the Lowardian Invasion. It wasn't a secret that folks, ally and enemy alike, had been scared stiff by the newly polished form of their archfoe's sidekick. No one, not even Kim, expected that from him. She still feels kind of bad about that. About doubting him. But then she reminds herself, for her own confidence, that Ron didn't earn the Mystical Monkey Power; he stumbled into it.

Kim worked herself down to the bone to get to where she is, but people are telling her she's not good enough. It's not Ron's fault. It's just — nauseating.

Meanwhile, while Kim and Ron warred through the bric-a-brac, they polished their blades and prepared for the real deal. But soon Ron moved into the Top Security Clearance world of Global Justice and it became apparent to all the mooks and rapscallions like Dementor and Monkey Fist (yes, Monty's back from the dead, it's a whole thing) that Agent Stoppable's not actually gunning for them, leaving Kim to deal with their vastly improved ilk.

Heck, not even Kim knows where Ron is today. Half the time, if not more, he's not allowed to tell her. The past few weeks, the former Dynamic Duo has been testing out the long distance gambit, but just as they found their groove in regards to frequency of texts and Skypes, Ron got bumped up another promotion and threw the whole thing off. Now it's radio silence. Either she's too overwhelmed by the escalating difficulty of her missions to consider texting Ron or he's too busy to remember they had a Skype date.

Beep-beep-de-beep!

Speak of the Devil….

"Don't you ever silence that thing?" Drakken rasps through Kim's radio.

"Uh, well the whole point of call me, beep me is the beeping part," Kim snarks, pulling her phone from the satchel tied tight around her waist. "Unlike you Drak, the texts I get are actually important."

Drakken curses under his breath; asking Kimberly Ann to organize his inbox the other day had been a mistake. After hours of sorting and deleting, all she did was sigh extraneously and say, "Drew, you should really consider unsubscribing from some of these newsletters. Like NaNoWriMo was almost a year ago, you obviously have no intentions on reading these Writers' Tips."

But that's not fair! Sure, he only got six thousand words in last NaNoWriMo, but that doesn't mean he'll never finish It Was a Tuesday! Why just the other day he wrote an experimental chapter about the time he used flashcards to remember his evil plots! And Kimberly knew that! Because she proofread it!

Heck, she even likes his writing! She's — ahem — the only one who does…. aaaaanyways, oh how she gets under his skin! Sometimes she's even worse than Shego! Words hurt you know.

But back to that incessant beep beep-de-beep. Kim crooks her elbow under her chest so that she can look at her phone in the tight air duct.

Ron [6:54PM] Awwwww, seriously? he's back from the dead. that's bananas!

Ron [6:55PM] that's a joke, feel free to use that on him

Ron [6:55PM] ya know for a guy who mutated himself into a monkey you'd think he'd be chiller about monkey jokes

Kim rolls her eyes and stuffs the phone away. Kim would happily use a Ron joke on Monkey Fist, but the two of them never quite had the rapport for linguistic ballet.

Yet despite everything, Ron could probably march in and tick Monkey Fist off like any internet troll worth their salt. Kim wonders what kind of gags Ron would go for. There's the obvious monkey jokes, but also now the zombie gags. Seeing how the old coot's risen from the dead and everything. It was Amy's doing, but Monty ditched her fast and partnered up with Dementor. Their plan has some kind of synergy between evil plants and ancient Monkey Tomes or whatever. Kim never really knows. She just sees it and punches it.

With the crazy media coverage lately, it makes sense that Monkey Fist's resurrection flew under the table, but it really is too bad that Ron can't waltz over and check it out. Maybe Kim should do some verbal sparring with the Brit for Ron's sake.

Ugh. Kim's not even here for Monkey Fist. Shego's got him on lock after all. Kim has to remember that and keep her eyes on the prize. She thinks it over. Using Ron's little joke might actually work for a strategy on how to win Shego over. Shoot. She should text Ron back before she forgets — no, she'll text after she gets Monty's reaction. That way Ron will text her back a few hours later with an emoji. Or a stinkin' el-oh-el if she's lucky.

Kim sighs in a way that would even make Eeyore concerned, and kicks open the vent. She rolls out of the steel and almost immediately regrets diving in.

It's like entering a warzone. Exhausting to track from above, on ground level her heart threatens to thump its way out of her chest. Because it's not turquoise — it's green and blue. Separate. She can't quite see Monkey Fist from here but he's surely putting up a fight, throwing out blasts that rival Shego's. The beams shimmer like flames, dancing erratically. Neither light lets up, blasting into the next beam, etching a matrix of death all around the room.

Just as Kim's about to stick her landing, a beam of blue comes out from under her. She holds back a scream and twists up, firing a grapple line back into her hidey-hole air duct, line going taut fast. She swings up, narrowly avoiding the blue but instead finds her back running against a column of green fire from Shego. She screams, but manages to hold on tight, and releases another grapple line, and swings through a safety gap in the blaze.

Kim throttles between the blasts, spiraling in the air, peeking through every gap to find something — anything — she can grapple onto, but just as she finds a straight fall to the floor there's a terrible screech that gnaws at her eardrums. One of Dementors petunias snaps up at her, bulb bigger than Kim's entire body.

Right Evil mutant plants. She totally forgot.

White teeth as long as Kim's arm, tightly knit into ugly rows along the maw, snap at her, splattering acid into the air. Kim's not fast enough and one particularly jagged tooth snags her foot and whips her through the air.

Gravity wants to throttle Kim down into the monster's gullet, but she preserves all the strength she's got and keeps herself held tall and poised no matter where the monsters whips her. At the peak of its swing, she pops one foot up and back down, crashing a boot into a tooth, knocking it free. Acid sprays from the gap in the mouth and Kim falls, slipping into the mouth. She grabs two teeth and kicks both feet into teeth opposite her, limbs searing from the momentous effort. But her weight makes short work of the creature, and it tumbles on down to the floor.

Just before it hits stone, she rolls out of the bloom and narrowly avoids a stream of green fire that the monster falls into, promptly burning down to ash. Kim finds her bearings fast, wiping sweat from her forehead. Her head hurts more than it should and she decides she's probably poisoned. She quickly radios to Drakken, asking him to scan her vitals while she works. Another petunia lashes at her, but Kim's ahead of this one and grabs the roof and floor of its mouth, cracking her arms far apart to keep the mouth splayed open. She pushes hard, already short sleeves rolling into her shoulders. She raises her feet and dropkicks the horrid beastie in the mouth and it bends under her.

Kim hits the floor at a roll and finally catches sight of Shego and playfully waves to her. Shego's eyes widen because seriously? Kim what the heck. Or fuck. What the fuck is more Shego's speed.

Ever since the Lowardians, big guns got drawn and people, including Shego apparently, like to think that means Kim isn't up to par anymore.

Well, not quite. Check the name.

Kim snaps back into action, somersaulting back, just as another rogue petunia dives at her. But she's got the leverage to launch herself above him, and she grabs its wiry stem like she's at the gym, twirling a full 360° before coming back down with a stomp that's the equivalent of crushing someone's windpipe. It whimpers before falling fully slack.

Two more come. She leaps and throws her legs into a full split, cracking one of the creature's maws wide enough to keep her safe. Meanwhile, her arms grab onto one of the other creature's teeth, yanking down on it like Quasimodo does every morning in Paris.

The tooth snaps free and the creatures roars, tumbling to the ground. Kim slips the jagged thing under her arm and twists her body like a pretzel, grabbing the petunia holding her by its tooth and — CRACK!

The first petunia thumps off the floor, and Kim lands between the slain beasties, stabbing both through the heads, grinning at Shego like a mischievous kid might.

"Princess, hey, you need to — "

"Hold that thought!"

Kim leaps into the air again, twirling like a helicopter, the twin teeth whirling around her and catching yet another petunia in both sides of its gaping mouth. But Kim doesn't stop there. She keeps spinning and the teeth cleave right through the jaw, decapitating the monster. Kim hits the ground, coated in plant mucus, but she's not quite through yet.

"Five o'clock!" Kim shouts and Shego ducks, one of the teeth launching over her head like a javelin and nailing the final petunia in the face. It bursts into acid and splatters across the floor.

Kim brushes the hair from her eyes and shoots another winning grin at Shego. But that grin quickly becomes a grimace as Kim is suddenly thankful for all the fencing classes she took. Bolts of blue fly at her. Kim swings the tooth up and down, deflecting the bolts as they just graze her. But the blue is too fast for any human, even her, and after ten volleys one bops the tooth from her hands, knocking it into the air and yards behind her.

A fist as big as her head materializes in the air and goes for broke, angled just right to pop her skull open. But Kim's got something else in mind.

"Wow, it's really bananas that you're back from the dead, Monty."

The flaming fist stops right before her face. Quickly, the blue light coagulates into a tangible form before her. Monkey Fist sweeps a scoop-shaped thumb across his long nose and sneers at her. He's evolved a bit since she last saw him. Hair is a bit more wild, muscles a bit more trained, and his eyes empty blue fire from his sockets. He's flanked by a blue aura, but it's nowhere near as crisp and clean as Ron's.

"What — did — you — say?" Monkey Fist hisses.

Kim bites her lip and tries not to giggle out of anxiety. "I — said — it's — bananas — that — "

"OOOOOOOOOOOH!" Monkey Fist whistles like a train, big honkin' feet stamping against the ground like a child's. The fire fades and Kim can see the long sloped lines of his distorted face. "That makes me so mad!"

But before the gentleman can throw a rather uncordial tantrum, one of Shego's plasma bolts knocks him upside the head and blasts him across the width of the entire room and into a wall, where stone bricks avalanche onto him in heaps.

When the dust fades, Kim sees Shego staring at her with the coldest expression the mercenary's ever flashed, fists rolled so tight that they shake, wedged into her hips.

"Bananas?! That's the best you had? You just risked your life to say Wow Monkey Fist, it's really bananas that you're back from the dead?!"

Kim frowns and scoops her phone out, quickly showing the screen to the green woman. "Ron told me to say it. Speaking of…." She dives back into the text thread to fire off a —

Kim [6:58PM] Good one. That really got him going.

— before emerald fire surrounds Kim from all over, crafting a tunnel leading out to the exit, archways burning all the way out. Before Kim can jump to Shego's side, a wall blisters the floor between them and separates the two.

"Out! Now!" Shego screams, flames so dense Kim can't even see her.

"Huh? No way!" Kim pouts. "This is my turf as much as it is yours!"

"No it's not! This is my gig, like I get a bounty for stopping them! You don't so stay out of it!"

Kim shuts her eyes and forces it from throat even though she really does not want to air this.

"Shego, stop yelling at me, please. Why can't we just be friends?"

That hangs in the air for a little longer than either is comfortable with. Kim's cheeks burn red and she continues, "Shego, I'm serious — I like you. Like really, really like you. You're funny and tough and smart and I always had fun sparring with you and I think it'd be good for the two of us if we started working together."

An imprint of Shego's body sinks into the wall, just enough for the grimace to set itself nice and strong. Though the neon light does make Kim's eyes water, so she tries not to look for too long.

"We were not sparring," Shego grunts. "Maybe you were — you've never been that responsible. You're lucky Doc's so dense or maybe we would have taken over the world."

The outline of the mouth moves but it's hard to say in which direction; but it's okay. You don't need nonverbal cues from Shego to get where she's at.

The flames flare towards the tunnel and Kim has to firmly plant her boots down to not be swayed. But she's bleeding from the toes because of the planets and that poison is doing god knows what to her body. She can't hold on much longer.

"I wouldn't resist if I were you," Shego taunts. "Could easily break a bone trying for the immovable object gambit."

"You wouldn't," Kim sneers. "They were spars. You've never tried to hurt me. But other people do. Every day. And if you don't want to be my friend, fine. But still join up. Some back-up would be great, or else Monty might whip me into a Kimmie Frappé."

Kim slips. One heel flies up and the other follows. She flails her arms but it's no good. She gets one last look at Shego before being throttled.

"Puh-lease, Princess. You don't need little ol' me, do you? I thought you could do anything!"

She's airborne and not even sure if Shego can hear her, and it's hard to talk with the wind blasting down her throat, choking her. But she says something because it's important. It comes out as a croak and Shego does hear it, two flares arch up just slightly at the words:

"You know that's not true anymore."

A bellow of air jams its way down her throat and another swing nails her in the nut. She flies back and somehow miraculously lands on her feet, just outside the fortress. Not from any effort of her own. She cracks her head up and watches the flames give way to ash and frowns. Shego is — powerful. It's a little unnerving.

Why is everyone just now deciding that they can outclass her?

Kim blinks back something that might be tears and grinds her knuckle against the dirt. "Dammit."

"Sorry to eavesdrop, but you know I can't resist the hot goss," Drakken says stoically through the earpiece. "You need a different approach, pathos won't work on Shego. Or at least — erm — words. Good at using them, not so much listening."

Kim finds the embarrassing tears and crushes them with the back of her glove, forearm rising to wipe off the sweat and goop. "I can do this right?"

"What? Recruit Shego or defeat the evil plant army that's MY idea and so poorly implemented by Demenz and —"

"Drew. Focus."

"Mm."

"I'm talking about Shego. Is it worth trying? I think I got poisoned earlier and I don't know if it's a good idea for me to…."

"You are poisoned. I didn't want to tell you because you were working, but…."

Kim's posture droops. "Great."

"Kimberly Ann, I hate to be a Negative Nancy but this is poor strategy. You're not going to impress Shego by beating people up. Nor will you words. Maybe, if you can get back in there before she — erm — after whatever it is that she does to her 'targets' — perhaps I can Dr. Phil for you two."

Kim raises an eyebrow. "Dr. Phil?"

"Don't tell me you don't know Dr. Phil!"

"Uh — tell me you don't still watch cable television."

"What? People don't watch — what do they watch then?"

"It's streaming platforms all the way, Doctor D."

=KP=

The next scene is just as much of a warzone as the left, but this time Kim's poisoned.

No blue lights this time at least, just plants. But more plants than ever. Vines and stems everywhere, wriggling and writhing with the occasional flash of plasma bleeding through. Kim can hear Dementor yucking up a storm about — something. She's not sure what could possibly be funny given that Shego is schooling his army of plants. Like yes, she's outnumbered but — oooooooh.

It's because resistance is futile. They're not just plants, they're infinite. Like a hydra. Whatever Dementor's doomsday machine is probably has the ability to respawn them lickity split. But Shego's more crash crash boom than nuance. She probably doesn't connect Dementor's laughter to anything other than a personality defect of his. That being he is very annoying, which is true.

Kim narrows her eyes and sees a massive, whirring machine in the back of the throne room. The stones have been stripped from the floor, giving the gadget ample amount of dirt and soil to work with, and if Kim squints, she can see small hints of green tailing under the metal panels. So that's her target.

No matter how depressed the idea makes her, she has to suck it up. Because she is Kim Possible and she actually can do anything. Long as she doesn't overthink things. So she strains her cheeks and forces that grin. It sort of helps. Just a tad.

Ron would want her to smile. She would too.

There's a creak from below and Kim peers down to see the furry head of Monkey Fist passively entering the room. He stands before the whirring mass of green and takes in a deep breath. Big fists start to glow blue and from where Shego's standing, there's no way she can see him. Too much overlap of color.

Meaning like it or not, it's showtime. Kim has to save Shego.

Kim drops down from above, ramming her hands into the back of Monkey Fist's neck, cracking his chin deep into his chest. While he hunches over, she rolls off his back and lands in a sprawled out Look at me! kind of position.

It's a move that yadda yadda won the cheerleaders oy old jokes, yeah?

"KIM POSSIBLE!" Monkey Fist shrieks with such volume that his jowls are set a-quiverin'. He pounds his chest and launches at her. His fists cut through the air, leaving behind burning trails of blue that linger for a few extra seconds before dissipating. Kim backsteps fast, just managing to avoid each swing. She's not stressed because she's smiling, and that jubiliance makes it all look easy.

"Quit monkeying around, Monty," Kim snarks. "I don't have all day."

Monkey Fist's forehead throbs with rage and it's a wonder he was ever even capable of tolerating Ron's loudmouth, considering how bad Kim's jokes are. Get a real punny buy in the room and Monkey Fist would probably have a heart attack. But it's 'kay, Kim'll settle for the undying rage. His fists pick up the pace and while the blue trails don't linger in the air as long now, the swaths of power glow darker.

Kim somersaults back to avoid one particular devastating swing, legs almost snapping out from under her upon landing. She opens her mouth for some other joke, she's actually not quite sure what she'll say yet and it ultimately doesn't matter because Monkey Fist's knuckle cleaves into her jaw. Her whole body shoots up like the bell in a strongman game, another fist coming from above, fist splintering into her eye.

She falls back, now brandishing an impressive shiner. "Nice trick," she spits a gob of blood to the floor. "But I don't think any of the audience members at the circus would laugh at it."

"Eh, that one's a stretch, methinks," Monkey Fist chortles, grabbing her by the scruff of the tunic and lifting her into the air. Things slow down, mostly from Shego's now divided attention; yes, she noticed. She stands as still as a statue, glowing hands only occasionally flying out to smack a rogue plant away.

"You won't harm another hair on her head, Monty," Shego growls.

"Ha, as the youth say: As if," Monkey Fist laughs and though one of his hands is still free, it's an invisible one that throttles by at the throat, knocking her whole body into the air. Her body weighs against the neck, stretching the tendons farther than they should ever go, bone preparing itself to crack. "You'll do nothing to me you welp."

Kim feels the blood rush to her head, but another crack! and the invisible hand whips her to the ground. She hits the ground. Hard. Rolls several feet, shoulder smashing against her collarbone.

Monkey Fist's big square teeth grind against each other. "Nobody makes a fool out of me."

Kim doesn't need to look to know that she's standing between Monty and the doomsday machine. All she needs is to let the show go on. She cranes her neck up even though doing so causes blistering pain. "Don't you mean make a monkey out of me?"

Kim doesn't even get to appreciate the villain's resulting beet red face because an all-consuming blast of blue masks everything. But she does feel a burning in each and every one of her joints, body shooting high into the air and arching into a spiral. She flies far and just as the white floor rushes up to crash into her nose — she feels something tight squeeze into her, body accordioning into itself from whiplash.

Shego slides a hand to the small of Kim's back and leans her up from the teeter totter angle and their noses briefly brush against each other before Kim gently falls onto the floor. A dome of green fire materializes around them, the burning embers overtaking what sounds like an argument rumbling between the two partnered villains —

"Monty, you almost scorched mein evil plant army! Careful!"

"But — but — she called me a monkey!"

— but no more after that, too much going on, like she's in a different room. "These powers are kinda new," Kim drawls.

Shego rolls her eyes. "It's not, I just didn't need to tap into this kind of power back in the old days. Now everyone's going nuts and — "

"You mean going ape," Kim sits back up. "I — "

"No, you're benched, Possible," Shego growls, eyes lingering on Kim's bruised eye longer than usual. "I cannot fight delusional powerhouses like these fools when I have to keep one eye on you to make sure you don't get clobbered. You're out of your league. Go back to babysitting, I don't know what else to tell you."

Kim tries to protest, but the words sputter out and don't mean anything. Not even worth transcribing.

"You are dying, Kim," Shego says without glancing over her shoulder. "We're never going to be friends. So give up. Move on. You're a great kid but — show's over. I'm not burying you."

Kim is too stunned for words, and squints away more tears when Shego dashes off right quick, passing through the flames like it's nothing. Kim's outstretched hand gently closes in on itself the arm retracts back to her torso. A dramatic gesture maybe intended to make her sudden loneliness feel a bit more valid, but instead she just feels feeble. But Kim is not feeble. She's anything but feeble, and she needs to get back in the ring ASAP.

Even if it kills her. But it won't.

With no time to waste, Kim crosses her fingers that Shego isn't actually trying that much harder, and rolls forward. The flames lick her from all over and — oh, so that's what a ten on the pain scale looks like. This is worse than Monty's magic, but is torture, literal torture. She can't think straight, can't process anything else. Her ears ring and when the cold air of the castle room crosses through her, she vaguely sees a yellow blob. It's — keening? Scared — eyes dilated to the extreme, uvula flying like a pendulum.

The green flames pass in front of her and the white hot numbness returns — she kicks Dementor upside the head and conks him out, throwing her body to the ground and rolling against the floor. It takes longer than she'd like but it does the work and kills the fire.

She checks on Shego, cringing and screaming from the pain bubbling all over, and finds Shego going toe-to-toe with Monkey Fist, while also dealing with — no — fending off — the plant monstrosities. Against either party, she'd fare fine, but these are two titans to reckon with. Kim checks the machine puppet mastering the whole plant army and it's definitely too big and too complicated to take out — unless….unless she turns back to Monkey Fist and cups her hands to her mouth and shouts —

"Hey Monty!"

Monkey Fist blinks and he lazily sucker punches Shego to the ground, briefly smiling at the blue light crackling between each of his hairy digits. When he looks up though, he is immediately flabbergasted. "KIM POSSIBLE?!"

"Geez Monty, are you new to this?" Shego rubs the golf-ball sized bump on her head. "Coming back from the dead is kind of her whole bag."

There's a bit of a sneer in that and Kim shrinks a little bit at Shego's glowering, but the green woman is quickly overcome by a renewed army of plants that tear out from the floor beneath her, shoving away the brick and mortar, to drag her deep into the soil. Monkey Fist laughs through his nose and stomps across the hall to Kim.

Kim could easily tick him off all the way from over here, but she's already kind of learned her lesson that maybe getting him to chipshot this isn't such a grand idea. Close-range all the way if we're talking Mystical Monkey Mayhem.

So Kim motions for him to come closer and throws on the appearance of a shout, but really it's a wide-mouthed whisper.

"Do you have any nieces?"

Monkey Fist blinks. "What? Erm. I — " he draws closer. "I didn't quite get that."

"Do you have any nieces?"

He blinks again and lifts a paw to his freakishly large ear, letting it guide him across the floor. "Kim Possible, please speak up. We are in the middle of battle, after all."

She repeats it. But quieter. "Do you have any nieces?"

He shakes his head. "Is this some sort of bit?" He growls and jumps onto all fours, prancing right on up to her, lifting himself back to his full height with fists wedged against his hips. "I am not in the mood for a bit."

"Not a bit," she shrugs, stepping backwards. He doesn't consciously think to follow her, but he does it anyways. "I was asking if you have any nieces."

"Hrm," Monkey Fist scratches his square chin. "Not by blood — though I suppose Bates had a kid a few years back, I suppose I could count their kin as my nephew."

Kim nods, and while she doesn't think her joke is actually that funny, she smiles so wide it hurts. Especially considering the pain. But this is what Kim Possible does. This is how she saves the world. She chuckles between words like a lovable stand-up. "Is your kin by chance — a monkey?"

"What?" Monkey Fist drapes a hand over his head to better itch his forehead. "I don't — understand — monkey?"

"Why you'd be a monkey's uncle then!"

If only there were a little monkey sidekick there to smash some cymbals together, that'd be great. But the joke lands anyways and Monkey Fist goes so red this time his aura actually twists into a sickly violet.

"OOOOOOOOOH!" he screams and lunges at her, waves of power emanating from his fists; this is strength he doesn't even know. Otherwise he wouldn't be getting so up close and personal about this. But his fists lash out like an excited kid playing whack-a-mole and it sets Kim at a fast enough pace that's she actually a little worried about running backwards so quickly.

One particularly devastating kick flies up like Charlie Brown screwing up and eating dirt instead of football, and Kim has to somersault back to avoid it. She lands on top of the doomsday machine with all four limbs splayed out, taking on the sort of stance that's more Ron's scene. Monkey Fist's kick lodges itself directly into the metal and sparks fly.

Kim laughs and quickly kicks off her boots, letting her bare feet hook toes around loose nuts and bolts to better hold her balance. She then looks straight down at Monkey Fist and giggles, "Well look at that! Monkey see, monkey do, huh?"

Monkey Fist screams and flips upwards, somersaulting up the metal after her. She flips back, landing on top of the machine just as Monkey Fist shoots over her, momentarily gripping the bricks in the wall so that he can better direct a dropkick onto her person. But no magical aura this time, just pure monkey.

Kim blanks.

She wants to make a cheerleading joke because those are honestly some stellar flips — and she's been thinking of replacing some people on Harvard's cheer team (yes, two months in and she's already captain). But she knows she should stick to monkey gags and then Monkey Fist's two bare feet slam her in the chest, big and wide enough to dig into her whole form and she falls clean off the machine and hits the ground.

Before she can even get up, Monkey Fist is before her. He lifts her by the front of her tunic and smashes her body up against the machine and flashes a smirk so gnarled that it fully exposes one of his deadly canines. "You thought you could fool me, Kim Possible?! Ha! You act as if I am a rank amateur! Perhaps if you were my hated arch-foe, Ron Stoppable, you'd be more clever with your jokes but I, I am an educated man who comes with wealth, prestige, and a Master's in Primatology from Oxford! You will never be smarter than me, nor will you ever be stronger."

Monkey Fist gives her the once over. Bleeding foot, black eyes, scratched up all over, crazy burns….but not quite enough for his tastes so he punches her in the face, almost hard enough to knock her loose, but his grip is too tight for that.

"Looks like I win!" he chortles.

Kim tries as hard as she can to resist the burn in her neck and looks up, though it appears like her head's balancing on a slinky. "What's your damage with Ron, Monty? It's like he's a chimp on your shoulder."

Monkey Fist blinks and grinds Kim deeper into the metal. "The boy is not a chip on my shoulder — for I am the all-powerful…."

"Ah," Kim crawls, sliding her hands up against her face. "Monkey see no pun, monkey hear no pun…."

"Wh-what?" Monkey Fist sputters. "Pun — what?"

Kim's face falls. "Hello? Chimp on your shoulder?"

Monkey Fist blinks. Ties together a few stray thoughts and screams at the top of his lungs, darting in for the kill but Kim's legs roll up into his stomach and swing up and over, smashing him against the machine. She hits the ground first and he stumbles after her, sparks beginning to spiral around him.

"You think you'll get me to destroy my own machine, Possible? Don't be ridiculous."

Monkey Fist draws closer. Kim checks for Shego to make sure she's hanging in there — and she's not. There's just too many monsters for her take on at once. Maybe she's still thrashing, but it's a dogpile to overcome.

Kim crouches down, mostly from her draining energy, and glares ahead. "Monty, do you know where Ron Stoppable is?"

Monkey Fist snorts, so Kim fills in the blanks. "He's taking down terrorists of whom you don't even know, of whom I don't even know, because my security clearance isn't that high. See, Ron only takes on the A-Level."

"Tsch," he flashes his canines again. "I am a solid A. They'll all see that soon."

Kim steadily backs away, bare heel sliding against the rim of stone. She stays there and Monkey Fist's big feet steadily sink into the soil, the sparks still alive. His whole frame quavers with raw power and she grins.

"No, they won't. Because you're B-Level. These guys Ron takes out? They're serious. They're organized. They don't throw temper tantrums at bad jokes."

Something in Monkey Fist stifles and she's knows it's getting to him. If even just a little. But this isn't enough so she keeps pushing.

"Well," he leans in as if balancing on a cane. "I have superpowers. Surely, that bumps me up. I'm just — insecure — is all."

"Mm," she bites her lip and widens her tance. Any second he might blast her. But he's not mature enough for that. "Yeah, it's the only thing keeping you from the D-List. You have powers. I do too. It's why I'm a B-Lister."

"You," he snorts. "You have powers?"

"Yes, it's called never giving up."

"I don't think that constitutes for much," the sparks redirect around him, slowly angling themselves to rip from his muscles where they have a better vantage point to obliterate the teenager. "I hit you one more time and you're out for good, Kim Possible. So choose your next words wisely."

"Okay — a promise then. I'm not gonna lay a finger on you and still take you out. You'll go to jail but don't worry Monty: I'm B-Squad, I don't stand a chance against you. So we won't fight, but you will lose, and when they haul you off, you're going to look me in the eye and despite all the power you've smacked me with, I'm going to smile."

"Oh," he mock shudders. "I'll make sure you don't smile."

"Tsch." Kim tries not to ler her eyes linger on the sparks licking the soil. She tries to brace herself for something incredibly painful. "You know I heard that monkeys can get time shaved off their sentences if they volunteer to be shot into space."

Monkey Fist roars (predictable) and the sparks flare up, slicing into the soil and with that — every single root protruding from the machine, all burned off in one fell swoop. Kim hears the terrible, inhuman death calls disturb and splinter her ears, each bulb crashing to the ground like a fallen tree. But the sparks swirl together and rush at Kim in a haze and even in her most peak physical condition — no mortal can withstand that.

But she can yadda yadda do anything whatever. You get it.

The blue light cascades at her and Monkey Fist cackles with laughter — that is until his sparks not only kill the plants, but travel up the stems like dynamite fuses, all the way back to the machine they spawned from and — well — ka-boom. An earth shattering ka-boom.

The machine blasts apart and the resulting explosion nails Monkey Fist in the back.

So it's the two of them that go soaring, one after the other. Kim, scorched to a crisp, hits the floor first. Monkey Fist lands besides her and despite all the Mystical Monkey Power resting in him, Kim is the one that's still conscious.

She can't hear a damned thing, but there's a white shadow with triangular dimensions hovering above her face, chastising her over….something obvious probably. Their voice is harsh but it's the touch that betrays them, the way her finger so gently scoops Kim's face upwards. Twin green lights plume in the air and Kim realizes that it's Shego.

"Hi," Kim rasps.

"Kimmie…" Shego stutters. She must have just said a lot and Kim almost feels sorry she missed it, but that intense Kimmie kinda collectivizes it all together pretty well.

"I know," Kim coughs. "But now you know you don't have to worry about me on the field."

Kim's limp wrist doesn't support that claim, nor her watering eyes. "But you don't really care about that right? You trust me enough. You're just scared of being my friend, right?"

It catches in Kim's throat when Shego lifts Kim up and slings her chin over her shoulder, face burying deep into Kim's shoulder.

"I'm not scared," Shego mutters, her voice like crystals. "I don't know how I feel."

Kim looks at her very seriously. "Shego — I'm sorry I was mean about you being a hit-man now. But you don't have to do that work. I don't know what damage you carry and you don't have to tell me but I want you to take this seriously. Please. Please please please. Work with me, Drakken, and Wade. We're not just going to save the world, we're going to have fun."

Shego's jaw lowers because she's obviously not used to someone asking her that. It dangles long before she finds something typical of her personality to use as a retort, but it's just not there, so she wipes her eyes. "I can't believe you committed that hard to the monkey bit. Honestly though, you peaked really early in. Like seriously Princess, it's called a tight-five for a second."

Kim laughs way harder than she should and it's embarrassing, but it's okay because it's been one of those missions.

A man in a blue coat click-clacks into the battlefield, notebook in hand. Green fire erupts in Shego's eyes and she shoves Kimie off. "What do you want, Doc?!"

"Oh, I," Drakken bites his lip and checks the room. "Good — good job here. Erm. I'm going to Dr. Phil for you two so you can get through this conundrum."

"Ew, Doc. Dr. Phil?" Shego raises an eyebrow.

Kim whispers in Shego's ear. "Drakken doesn't know about streaming platforms."

Shego's eyebrow goes even higher. "Not even Netflix?"

Drakken's dry lips find themselves suddenly incapable. He just stands there.

"Also read the room, Drew," Kim coughed. "Me and Shego made up. She's part of the team, and tonight we're gonna introduce you to online serialized television!"

"But I — "

"Do you have an account?" Shego asks Kim seriously, who shakes her head in response. "Well, since we're doing you a solid, Doctor D, you'll be paying the subscription fees."

"Sub-subscription?"

Kim grins. "Monthly."

He looks between the two of them. "Is it too late for me to change my vote to No, let's not invite Shego?"

Kim and Shego say it together. "Objection sustained."

[aedee]

Emotional Revolution: My Hallmark As A Leader

This is the second entry to my e-journal. I am Donna, and to know me better, you can scroll through my past posts!

One of the mentioned phrases last time in our Psychology 170 class, Human Development, is delayed gratification. Our professor defines it as resisting the desire for an immediate reward in favor of a better one later. This concept resonates with me, and I mentioned various times I used this approach. For instance, I practiced delayed gratification for the UP Fair 2024. I budgeted and saved, allowing me to have more cash to spend and buy what I wanted at the fair. However, I am realizing I might be doing this too often. Similarly to what I did last February, this semester, I am (or maybe the current life events are) putting off my "happiness" and accumulating negative feelings until vacation break. It could be the stress talking, but I have a feeling the next few weeks hold something good!

The past week has been a relentless and brutal bombardment for me—academic loads and deadlines, family matters require attention, and mostly, personal commitments (organizations matter) pile on. Exhaustion gnaws at my 101% energy, emotions run high, and my focus on many things scrabbles. In the midst of this "hell week," all I can feel is the magnetism of a most awaited long break coming up that it becomes almost unbearable to wait from Tuesday to Saturday to happen.

However, I thought to myself, what if, instead of simply impatiently waiting for my awaited salvation (AKA the long break), I invest in equipping myself with knowledge to navigate these challenging times or at least help myself feel a little bit better to go on and face a lot more challenges ahead? That is, instead of seeking a little less challenge than what I am facing, I embrace these challenges as opportunities to learn and grow.

Mastering Self-Mastery

The saying goes that mothers are our first teachers, and that holds true for me. My mother took a strict but hands-on approach to my education, especially from a young age. I vividly remember her teaching me to spell my name. Her attentive and competitive spirit, mostly during Kindergarten, might be why I loved attending school as early as four years old. I thought it was fun; I got to always write on the board, colour, draw, sing and dance, recite (in all ways), and learn. Yeah, I was a 'bibo' kid. But despite being the bibo kid, I did not graduate valedictorian, not even a salutatorian. I was just active and participative.

In elementary school, the most vividly recalled memory of my highest achievement was being the rank 4 of my class for a quarter. Excluding my vaguely remember being second in first grade, perhaps because my grandmother taught me cursive early. Throughout elementary, I noticed a pattern in my performance. I tended to do well in the first quarter, followed by a decline in the second, and then bounced back in the third. This pattern continued until senior high school, making me wonder if I subconsciously conditioned myself to act upon my academics this way.

However, even keeping an occasional higher ranking, I always managed to be in the top 10 and active in my extracurriculars for different monthly events, such as, but not limited to, Buwan Ng Wika, Nutrition Month, United Nations Month, Girl Scout, Sports Fest, etc. Behind these extracurriculars is my supportive mother, and somewhere along the line, I picked up her competitive spirit a little too well. From then on, the school stopped being my playground and turned into a battlefield for grades and academic achievements. It was not her fault she and my father never pushed me towards specific goals. In fact, even though she was strict before, she never pressured me to be this or that and celebrated every accomplishment. But for me, it was not enough. I became fixated on wanting to be like my excelling classmates, my teacher's favorite students, the role models, the A1.

As a grade-conscious kid, I remember vividly crying during prayers every night, desperately wanting to excel in math. Sure, being "good" was fine, but I yearned for the coveted title of "math wizard!" I still remember how I felt while asking God to give me wisdom to be good at that subject. Perhaps people might find it silly to get so emotional over a school subject. But at that time, for me, intelligence equaled academic prowess and success (i.e. with lots of academic achievement), the kind that earned praise and recognition from teachers. Maybe it was the large class sizes in our small public school that I felt that way, but trust me, that teachers' praise and favor were the reason the same students (whom I considered intelligent kids) seemed to bask in a constant spotlight that landed in every quiz bee and competitions from kindergarten to sixth grade! Every time, I felt a little less below these kids—kids who boosted the morale of our school.

I always thought these instances made me angry with my teachers and their bias toward teaching and guiding their favorite students. These happenings also made me overthink that my teachers do not like me. I remember being a class Peace Officer whose job was to list the noisy and standing classmates. I recall being so dedicated to that position that I even memorized all the policies and homeroom rules that we had; a long list front and back! Being in a position was so satisfactory. I thought that by this, at least my teacher would know I have potential, too! While our teacher was out, I would joke around and even playfully "ship" classmates with each other when I caught them talking or being noisy. Then, when my teacher returned, I would proudly report on the "happenings" and hand a written list of students. However, one time, instead of the positive response I expected, my teacher got frustrated and yelled, 'You should have run for PIO (Public Information Officer) instead!' in front of everyone. At that moment, all I could think about was how my teacher hated me and how this would affect my built potential. Since then, I stopped bombarding them with updates, even though they seemed nonchalant about the incident by the next day. These experiences made me insecure about my teachers' approval and how this might affect my academics until high school.

Recalling this, I realized something. Maybe I was not resentful of my teachers, maybe I was jealous of my classmates. I was envious because, as early as elementary, they got to improve themselves and train to be champions representing our alma matter. I was envious because they did not need to prove themselves to teachers to notice them, just like I did. I was jealous because they were favored. Thus, they were the only ones who thrived in different subject areas, like Math, Science, English, and even Arts, and got offered and had a chance to go to good High Schools. They were the only ones who always competed and represented our section or school, leaving no room for us, average, to stay where we were, just like when we first entered the school. Hence, they were consistently in the Top 1 to 3; legit academics, huh? They were my classmates, never me, the wizard kids in different subjects.

Looking back, it is clear how warped and fixed my mindset was about intelligence. Heavily influenced by my environment, it paved the way for traditional IQ to be the sole benchmark. Now, my definition of "intelligent" has evolved. It is no longer about conventional academic success but rather a more holistic view. I have learned that intelligence is multifaceted, surpassing even academic components of it. It encompasses a variety of forms, and this has led me to embrace and appreciate my strengths. Based on the Multiple Intelligences Scale, I possess high Bodily-Kinesthetic and Intrapersonal intelligence. Also, my colleagues and friends often highlight my improved Emotional Quotient (EQ). I may not have seen it before, but these different intelligences are all beneficial in college, especially for a leader like me.

My goal to develop the most useful intellect I have—emotional intelligence—is what motivates me to make this mindset shift from valuing academic success over personal development.

I am a leader now, but before I came to this position, I doubted and criticized myself constantly. I remember being elected as the head of an executive position in my beloved organization at UPDEPP. At first, I was convinced I could never handle the responsibility; I knew I lacked confidence or lakas ng loob in Filipino, and I knew it would not be easy to handle being an iskolar ng bayan and a leader at the same time. I felt unprepared, and at that time, I believed I never would be. After all, I could barely grasp being a UP student, let alone holding a position in one of the biggest, quality and quantity wise, organization.

But what pushed me through was the trust of the people who voted for me: my org mates and the previous executive committee. They saw my passion and commitment to learning. It was not until my fellow members pointed it out that I realized I had this leadership potential.

I recognize now the gratefulness I have for them. If they had not given me encouragement and will, I never would have realized my potential. I have discovered that even though I might not have all the information required to be a leader if I had not taken on the position, I never would have. Taking the leadership position forced me to confront those doubts. It pushed me to explore my capabilities and discover a resilience I did not know I possessed.

My personal drive for self-discovery was what ignited, not their ideals. Even though I still have to learn more things about being a remarkable leader, this increased self-awareness motivates me to keep improving. Developing a growth mindset—embracing the belief that I can always learn new things and become more self-aware—burns my flame to understand who I am. By adopting the "there's a reason for everything; I know I can learn from this" mindset when faced with even the hardest obstacles and challenges, I am capable of handling difficult circumstances.

Did I become grit-y?

The lecture with our Psych 170 professor has lightened my burning flame interest in delayed gratification. Even though the idea of recharging on a beach vacation seems good, I now understand how important it is to invest in myself. Choosing to take on these obstacles head-on shows courage. Although I am aware that it will never be easy, I think that in the long run, this experience will make me a better and more competent learner. Through embracing these challenges and developing my gifts during this stressful period, I am embracing perseverance to set myself up for future academic (and, really, personal) success. For now, I will embed in my mind that these short-term difficulties of overcoming obstacles will be oh-so-well compensated with the long-term gain of personal growth, acceptance, and euphoria, much as saving for UP Fair. When I reflect on my early competitive and achievement experiences, I see how greatly influenced I was by validations, external, specifically. A strong work ethic was invested by aiming for high grades, but it also created a persistent sense of self-doubt for me throughout elementary and high school. There were times I felt envious of my A-level classmates who had better grades and were given more opportunities to succeed and bitterness toward our teachers who focused their attention on selected students. Nevertheless, grit became my unseen companion throughout these moments. Even though I was not always the highest student, often the second (as I always aim), my perseverance motivated me to keep working hard in my studies. My grit was strengthened by the disappointment of not being acknowledged, which drove me to look for new opportunities to showcase my abilities. To look for the table where I should be welcomed and properly sat. I did not change my entire self; I changed my surroundings to where I would fit in; I shifted my focus. I learned I cannot control things, so I changed how I will view and act upon these things— hardships—thrown at me; the best decision I could ever make. Delay in satisfaction has been a guiding concept in my life, but grit, I firmly believe, has been the constant igniting force that has kept me moving forward. My reflection has made it possible for me to overcome obstacles, turn discomfort, disappointment, stress, and even anger into motivation for growth, and see failures and losses as chances for lasting success. I know that the road to my goals is paved not only with delayed gratification thing but also with a persistent attitude of perseverance as I make my way through the challenging personal, academic, and professional environment.

To me, self-mastery is not about gaining absolute control over ourselves but about having growing awareness and making choices. Developing a growth mindset has made it easier for me to see that all emotions, regardless of how intense or complex, are natural and acceptable to experience. Self-awareness is, in reality, the foundation of emotional intelligence. I know that by being aware of my triggers, strengths, and weaknesses, I can approach difficult circumstances with more thought, giving me the freedom to decide how I will behave rather than letting my emotions rule me, which happened most of the time in the past. My emotional intelligence allows me to recognize my internal sensations of lack of energy, disappointment, stress, and perhaps underlying fear and anxiety.

Understanding myself and strengthening my self-control, or self-mastery, as I call it, is the first step in managing these difficulties life throws at me. What I would leave you is my reflection that to help us build this strong emotional intelligence requires the development of our self-awareness. As Aristotle said, "Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom."

Check my Grit Scale and MI Scale results here:

[secondratefiction]

Would you be willing to write headcanons about Friodo falling in love with a human warrior reader (like Boromir's squire or something) please?

Let's give it a shot...

You weren't even supposed to be going to Rivendell, but you'd been glued to Boromir's side since he'd agreed to take you on and train you.

While you were exploring the first night, you happened to meet a few curious little creatures. At first you thought they were children, but that idea was quickly squashed.

Hobbits they called themselves, they were all quite friendly and you spent most of your evening talking to them, but one in particular stood out...

Where Merry and Pippin were loud and boisterous, Frodo was quiet but no less good, fun company... there was just something about the oldest hobbit that kept drawing your attention.

The next day the council of Elrond was held. You were not invited...

Not to be perturbed by such an insignificant fact, you very much found a spot to hide yourself and listen... There was talk of Mordor and Sauron, of evil you could only barely begin to understand, fighting about who should get the ring, who would be the one to destroy it... And then you heard it:

"I will take it. I will take the ring to Mordor."

Frodo Baggins, the sweet hobbit from the night before had sealed his fate, and one by one the others joined him.

You met them Just outside of the gates and the Fellowship started their match towards Mordor. Boromir was furrios

"I thought I sent you home with the others!"

"You're here of your own decision, I'm here of mine."

The two of you bickered for hours, but the party didn't stop, and short of tying you to a rock himself, Boromir couldn't stop you either.

The first several days passed well enough, mostly it was walking. Lots of walking. Which gave you lots of time to speak with Frodo.

He told you stories of the Shire, of rivers and fields he'd grown up exploring, of mischief Merry and Pippin would often rope him into, all sorts of story of his uncle Bilbo - those were his favorites, Frodo's fondness of the man shining through.

In return you told him stories of your own childhood in Gondor, growing up in Minas Tirith. Learning to race horses even before your legs were long enough to reach the stirrups, how you always followed the Guards and Rangers around the training fields until Boromir finally took pity and agreed to train you himself.

Boromir himself interjected that pity had nothing to do with it. Only that it would have been a shame to let such potential go to waste.

It wasn't until Moria that the reality of it all started to sink in... Gandalf was gone, the rest of you'd only barely survived due to his sacrifice.

Lothlorien was a bit of a blur, you were still in shock, reeling from it all when you loaded up into elven boats and started down the river.

As upset as you were though, you could tell Frodo was taking it harder. More than that, the last night in the Realm of Galadriel had done something to him... He was more sullen, more with drawn, something weighed heavy on his mind and heart.

Not that any one had much time to deal with that...

You had gone out with Frodo to gather wood for a fire when your Master confronted him. Frodo vanished right before your very eyes. It was only then that Boromir noticed you... He seemed almost broken, but you took off after where something in you just knew Frodo would be going.

And you were right. You caught him just as He was loading a boat to cross the river. Both you and Sam being steadfast in the idea of going with him... You even swam the whole bloody thing to prove your seriousness.

But Frodo was firm... the ring corrupted Boromir, the most honorable and steadfast man you knew. There was no one Frodo could really trust, and as much as he wanted, almost needed, you to come along; he couldn't. The task appointed to him was too great for that kind of risk.

Really, he shouldn't even be taking Sam, but he knew there was nothing he could say or do to convince his friend to stay.

And so, he helped you back into the boat, Frodo and Sam helping you push off the bank so you could row yourself back over to the other side. Both hearts heavy with the parting, and sincerely wishing for the opportunity to meet again when this was all said and done.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

you suck at crushes

College!Yangyang x College!Reader x College!Renjun 

summary: Renjun wants to help you get with Yangyang who wants to help you couple up with Renjun but they’re both annoying, maybe one less than the other

word count: 4.2k

(warnings: swearing, mentions of food) ((lmk if I missed anything))

Taglist! @lanadreamie

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy!! I swear reader ends up with only one guy I just don’t want to give away the ending and I know the summary is ass

-

God it was like the beams of sunshine just followed him around. Providing him with a natural spotlight that only worked to draw your attention to him even more than usual. The voices around you faded into background noise, and everything else besides him became so fuzzy you could only focus on the one and only- Liu Yangyang.

“Hello?” “Y/N!” “Are you listening to us?” Someone gripped your shoulder and shook you until you were out of your Yangyang-induced-haze. “Huh? Oh yeah… totally.” You answered with absolutely no idea about the conversation happening at the very table you sat at. 

Your friends snorted, teasing and making fun of you. A kissing noise, a high pitched teasing exclamation of the man of the hour’s name, and some playful elbows being jabbed into your side. When they finally stopped with the teasing and they actually filled you in you were able to answer some questions about the times at the library. 

You slipped into your seat in your geology class, a poor choice on your behalf and quite frankly the school for describing it as something that would be ‘fun and exciting.’ What a total load of BS that was. The professor was an old man that went on and on about his days in the field 40 years ago and rambled on and on about subjects that were 70% of the time not on the tests. However, the one and only bright side was that you had your favorite distraction in this class, Yangyang.

How could one person asking a question about the tectonic plates or the striations on a stupid rock be so attractive? He made it possible. 

“Staring yet again?” An annoying voice asked quietly, just inches from your ear.

“Who are you?” You asked annoyed.

“Y/N, that isn’t funny anymore. Not the first time you did it and not the hundreds of times after that. We lived on the same street for years before you decided to follow me here.” He answered with a huff. 

“Renjun, will you just go away? You know I’m no good at this so go bother someone else.” You replied. You took your eyes off Yangyang, gave Renjun a quick glare, and focused back on the lab work in front of you. Something stupid about hills or some moutain. Wasn’t this class supposed to be about rocks? 

“I don’t need help, I came to help you. We’re friends- shhhh.” Renjun started, quickly shutting you up before you could interrupt. “I can help you with this lab and help you win over your beloved Yangyang.”

You sent him a quizzical look. In all the years you had known Renjun he had never been this... generous- always wanting something in return. “He and I are friends, he’s been super annoying lately and complaining about some final project we decided to do together, but we have months to do it. If I help you guys get together in order to distract him, then he can stop bothering me about that final project. It’s a win-win-win situation.” He explained.

Well, that made a lot of sense. “What do you even have in mind? Yangyang and I don’t talk like we used to, how could we go from strangers to dating in just a couple months.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself. You were the person to show him around school when he was the new kid all those years ago when we were kids, you’re in better standing than you think. We all went to the same school, we already know each other, we all have this class, and I’m not going to let this fail because I do not fail. If I have to hear about the final project one more time I will rip all the hair off his head, three strands at a time.” Renjun pouted. 

“You sound completely crazy-”

“If you two need some help all you have to do is ask, I don’t need you two to argue and disrupt the class. Mr. Liu, since you seem to have a good understanding of the assignment, would you mind helping them out?” The professor called out. 

You and Renjun sent each other incredulous looks, were you really talking that loudly? “It’s earlier than expected, but don’t worry I got this,” Renjun whispered.

“You know if you guys had just spoken quietly, I could have left early but here I am. You can’t do anything without me can you?” Yangyang teased Renjun. 

“Oh, it wasn’t me. Y/N here is just so stupid, I was trying to explain the lab and it’s like all my words go in one ear and out the other. Maybe you can explain better than I can.” Renjun gestured toward you wildly. 

You immediately went to defend yourself but stopped when instead, Yangyang came to your defense. “Y/N isn’t stupid like you Injun, if you wanted some attention you didn’t have to bother someone innocent.”

Your face felt so hot, god this attention was too much to handle so suddenly. It was as if Renjun had thrown you into the deep end of a pool when you had just learned about the entire concept of swimming itself. If this was his attempt at getting you and Yangyang together you were now questioning the entire idea. It was just too much to handle so suddenly.

Yangyang quickly went on to explain the idea of the lab, giving you some tips to make the work easier and how it connected to past lessons. “Do you understand it a little more now?” He asked you.

You hissed when someone stomped on your foot beneath the table. Your eyes met Renjun’s while he discreetly shook his head, seemingly trying to send you some kind of message. But it seemed whatever he was sending was received because you quickly caught on, answering, “Oh uh, this whole class has actually been a bit more difficult than I anticipated, and you seem to have a way better understanding than I do. Would you be willing to maybe meet up sometime and just help a little more?”

“I’m free on Wednesday afternoons, let’s exchange numbers so maybe we can find out what you struggle the most with and what time works for you. Renjun are you coming too, you seemed to get the lab when I explained it,” Yangyang replied.

Renjun answered with a simple nod, sending Yangyang on his way for the remainder of the class. He was quiet the rest of the time, still sitting beside you. When the class was over he looked over at you, “This is going to be so much easier than I thought.”

-

Some point in the week after class you had all decided on the meeting place and time. Some little cafe just off campus after Yangyang was done with his last class of the day. He said the coffee was good and it wasn’t even expensive, to which Renjun was quick to add that they had friends working there so they got discounts. 

Renjun insisted on meeting you a little earlier to go over the details of the plan he had finally come up with. The plan mainly consisted of you just catching up with Yangyang, which would then progress to just the two of you hanging out, then bam! Dating! Much easier said than done you were quick to point out. His plan was just an idea with no details. Like what do you talk about? How do you make him like you? What kinds of things does he like? Could he even like you romantically?

“He actually mentioned to me that he was happy to talk to you again, so I have very high hopes. That was one conversation with him that was not about the final. Just have some hope.” Renjun shrugged. 

“You make this sound so simple, but you are not the one risking being embarrassed by telling the guy you’ve had a crush on since you were 10 about your feelings and having even less of a relationship than you’ve had for the past like 6 years.” You huffed.

“Since you were 10? That’s a little embarrassing.” Renjun let out.

Ever since you were kids it was like Renjun knew the exact words and actions to push your every button. Always getting on your nerves and getting under your skin. It was foolish of you to believe that he had matured enough to not tease you, even in your 20s and even in college. Huang Renjun sucked.

You brought your hands up to his neck, fully ready to wrap your hands around his neck and just squeeze- just enough pressure for him to get the idea to just shut up. But of course, that would be unacceptable in public and even less appropriate seeing as Yangyang had come right up to the table before you could do so. You improvised, changing your intended action of a throat squeeze to a nice hug, arms wrapped tightly around Renjun’s shoulders. You smiled brightly, tilting your head away from Yangyang so your lips were right beside Renjun’s ear, “I can go another 10 years buddy, learn to shut your damn mouth. I for one know how to follow through with my threats and will actually pull your hairs from your head- Yangyang, so good to see you!”

Yangyang looked between the both of you curiously, side by side, one with a bright, beaming smile and the other flushed, scared look on their face. He shook it off and pulled out his study materials while making small talk. 

By the end of the study session you felt more confident in your geology skills and your chances with Yangyang. He had gotten exponentially cooler as he got older than the kid you met all those years ago. Sure, he was still chaotic and sarcastic, even still a little dramatic, but it nonetheless made your heart skip a beat, just like the first time you laid eyes on him. 

-

Over the next few weeks Renjun slowly stopped coming to the study sessions. He always had some excuse or another, that neither you or Yangyang ever really questioned. In those few weeks you and Yangyang had grown closer as friends, texting each other about more than just class, checking in on each other, sending stupid memes and tiktoks, even a few inside jokes.

But of course, Renjun had to have his time too. Instead of just texting you, he would make conversation anytime he saw you on campus, even going as far as asking you to hang out when he wanted to know what was going on. Every night without fail, he would FaceTime you for at least an hour and a half to ask for very detailed updates which at some point became you two just talking about your days in general. He liked to judge your every decision, giving his own input on even minor things like the seat you sat in for a class he didn’t even have. He said his life lacked drama so he needed to live vicariously through his friends.

“I know we usually meet at the cafe, but even with that discount I really shouldn’t be spending all that money there every week. Do you mind if we meet at mine this week? I promise my roommate buys enough snacks to feed the whole complex and he makes me clean the place every week.” Yangyang suggested about a month and a half into your studying arrangement. 

You of course agreed, you’d be crazy to not want to go to your crush’s home, just the two of you- alone, and talking about… rocks. 

So when the next week came and Wednesday afternoon rolled around, you found yourself standing right outside your crush’s door, fist raised to knock. You were so nervous, just being alone with him in his home! This wasn’t the cafe where you had other people around, where you knew where things were, close to your home. No, this was his house, and that made you beyond nervous. 

He pulled the door open, a wide smile on his face as he welcomed you in. He set your things at his kitchen table and gave you a short tour of the home. “My roommate will be back later tonight, but he made us some food if we get hungry later,” He told you while he brought out his own supplies, once again ready to conquer your weekly study session.

And even though you did at one point struggle very much with the subject, this particular topic seemed easier to understand. So after even correcting Yangyang a few times, the study session became more of a hang out session. So casual that you even answered Renjun’s texts, chuckling at him freaking out in all caps because you were in Yangyang’s home.

“No, but Renjun did that last time we hung out too! We were in public, like full on glass of water spilled across the table and he got so red,” you laughed recalling the memory from just a few weeks ago after watching Yangyang do the same.

Then just a few minutes later when you were both watching TV you mumbled, “I think Renjun would like this show. This is on Netflix right?”

Yangyang being the smart kid that he is, had pieces coming together in his mind, ideas that he wasn’t even sure if you knew yet. He was going to make this happen.

-

Renjun sat in front of Yangyang, a month before the end of the semester, finally working on the final project. Which, thanks to you, had not been mentioned even once since you and Yangyang started hanging out until a week ago.

After finishing his part for the day Yangyang leaned back in his chair, sighed and smiled. “I think I’m going to ask Sua from our history class out.”

Renjun choked on his drink, did Yangyang really have to pick the exact moment he took a sip of his drink to tell him this? He cleared his throat, “Since when do you like her?”

Yangyang shrugged nonchalantly, explaining that Sua worked at the cafe he was always at and at some point they just kind of hit it off.

Renjun nodded, a little excessively. In his head he was trying to figure out what the hell to do. He knew you liked Yangyang and how hurt you would be if Yangyang suddenly had a girlfriend. At this moment, you were the only thing on Renjun’s mind. “Really? I actually thought you and Y/N might be a really good match, and you guys obviously get along well.” He replied.

Yangyang hid his smirk by taking a sip of his drink, “I don’t know, Y/N is really just much more of a friend than anything. Like don’t get me wrong Y/N is cool, but I see Sua more romantically.”

Before Renjun even had time to process his words and think of the consequences, he suddenly blurted out, “Well, Y/N likes you- and has liked you since we were kids. You have to think about more feelings than just your own Yangyang. Think of Y/N.”

“Like you think about Y/N?” Yangyang replied. Renjun tilted his head in confusion, trying to understand what Yangyang was talking about. 

“I know you never grew out of that crush you had in middle school- it’s that cute childhood neighbors to lovers thing. I know that whole plan you made so I could finally pay attention to Y/N, and while I admit it worked, because Y/N is a cool friend, this plan didn’t work the way you wanted it to. I see the way you look at Y/N and every time we hang out that’s all you can talk about. I’m smarter than you Injun, I know.” 

Renjun flushed, these were emotions that he had buried deep down years ago. In just two months Yangyang had uncovered and brought his emotions to light. Emotions that had at one point been disguised as that annoying 13 year old kid that would bother you to your wit’s end and now evolved to Renjun putting your emotions before his own. Days that were once filled with him tugging on your hair or tapping on your shoulder and looking away as if it weren’t him, had now become days of texting or facetiming you regularly just to catch up like he had wanted. 

“I think you should tell Y/N how you feel, don’t underestimate your chances.” Yangyang told Renjun as they made their way out of the cafe. 

-

When Yangyang told you that he knew you liked him, that he wasn’t interested, that he was actually going to date Sua from his history class, you thought you would be more upset. Embarrassed that he knew you liked him all this time, angry that he didn’t tell you earlier, or heartbroken that your crush of almost 10 years didn’t like you like you liked him. But you weren’t. You weren’t embarrassed, or angry, or heartbroken. You felt fine, it felt like he was just telling you what he ate for lunch. “Okay, so how do you tell the difference between these crystals again?” You replied with a nod. 

“And I know you like Renjun.” He added quietly. 

You looked up suddenly, eyes wide with shock, “What?”

“Come on Y/N, I think this whole ‘Renjun annoys me to no end’ is just a ploy. Whenever we hang out he’s all you talk about, you guys FaceTime like every night, right? You smile every time he texts you, and even though you play it off as ironic shit-posting- those stories you always post with all the hearts and cheesy ass captions stopped being a joke at some point. You may not have realized it but even with Renjun as just a friend to you now, he means more to you than I do.” 

You huffed, crossing your arms across your chest, “You know you’re smarter than you look, but I really don’t like you psychoanalyzing me.” 

He laughed loudly, “So what are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t exactly have a good record with crushes, obviously. I don’t know what to do now,” you quietly answered, “Anyway this seems like a good ending point, we’ll meet one more time before the final right? Just text me if you need anything alright?” 

Before Yangyang could even stop you or try to reassure you, you were hastily packing up your things and out the door. How was he going to get the two of you together now?

-

It seemed that mother nature seemed to understand the tornado of emotions that were happening for you and Renjun, though you both had no idea about one another, what had started off as a gorgeous spring day had become a dark and rainy spring night. Even Yangyang laid in his bed, unable to sleep as he remembered that he had failed to mention or even plan out- that neither of you knew you liked each other. That would have been nice to know, but it was a little too late for that now seeing as it was like two in the morning. 

If you liked Renjun, which it sounded like you did, according to Yangyang and the more you thought about it, it really felt like you did. Not some surface level ‘I like to admire you from afar for 10 years’ crush but rather a ‘I like you and want to spend time with you and I’d hate to see you smile at anyone else like you smile at me and possibly fall in love.’ You sat straight up in bed, flashes of the lightning outside lit your room up, did you just think about falling in love with Renjun? Before you could process anymore thoughts you pulled on a coat and some shoes, grabbing the umbrella you kept by the door. You had to tell Renjun how you felt.

Stepping out of your apartment complex, you thanked the love gods for allowing Renjun to live just a few blocks away from each other and not across town. There was no doubt in your mind that by the time you reached him, you would be soaked to the bone, but you had to do this. There was no point in keeping this crush to yourself just for nothing, you had to take the risk and just hope for the best. Best case scenario, you get a boyfriend, and worst case, well then you don’t talk to him for another few years and every time you see him your heart feels like it's being stomped on. You know, something that could become a regular feeling. 

You hurried through the storm, dodging large puddles while trying your best to stay beneath the awnings of the buildings. You stopped at a light, looking out into the rain to see just how much further you had until you got to Renjun’s place. But instead you focused on the sight of someone rushing through the rain to get to the opposite end of the crosswalk. You squinted through the downpour, realizing that the person at the other end of the crosswalk was “Renjun?”

You rushed toward him, lucky that there were no cars at this hour of the night to dodge. He ran forward, meeting you in the middle, pulling your hand forward so that the umbrella covered you both. “What are you doing out here?” He asked you loudly so you could hear him over the rain. 

“I was coming to see you,” you started, meeting his eyes that told you he was waiting to hear more, “Renjun I like you. I really like you. I don’t smile, or laugh, or feel happy or even feel annoyed with anyone else like I feel when I’m with you. I want to be happy and date you, use your stupid plans to plan dates for us. I don’t want anyone else but you.”

“God, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that. I’ve had a crush on you since middle school, you don’t know how happy this makes me.” He beamed, using his free hand to cup your cheek.

His hands were wet, and his fingers were cold as they cupped your warm cheek. “Are you gonna kiss me or what?” You asked.

He surged forward, lips meeting your own in a passionate kiss as your eyes fluttered shut. Your lips moved against his own, wrapping your free arm around his neck to pull him closer. He let his other arm fall to bring you closer by the waist, deepening the kiss. With one arm holding up the umbrella you decided to just fuck it, dropping the umbrella you placed your hand at the back of his neck.

A sudden honk made the two of you jump apart, rushing back to the end of the crosswalk to avoid getting hit by an angry driver. 

“You crazy kids! Living your movie moment! I did it!” You heard a voice yell over the pounding rain. 

“Yangyang?” Both you and Renjun called out upon catching sight of Yangyang leaning out his car window.

He smiled, gesturing for the two of you to get in the car. You both shuffled into the backseat, hands held close and sitting side by side to warm each other up after being out in the horrible weather for so long. You were both shivering, teeth chattering, and lips nearly blue from the cold. 

“Aren’t you guys glad I meddled? I mean look at you guys, all cute and cuddled up after your adorable kiss in the rain.” Yangyang giddily smiled as he shook some of the water out of hair. 

“Can you just take us back to mine, I’d like to get dry so we don’t get sick. If that’s ok with you,” Renjun asked, whispering the last bit to you. 

You nodded, squeezing his hand reassuringly. Yangyang nodded, putting the car in drive, chatting your ears off about how happy he was that the plan worked even when he didn’t plan well considering he forgot to mention that you liked each other. He told you both that he was on his way to Renjun’s to tell him that you liked him and force him to FaceTime you and confess.

He pulled up in front of the apartment complex, turning to give you a cocky smirk before you could even get out of the car or thank him for the ride, “So is Injun a good kisser?”

“This whole car ride made me realize how much you suck, seriously. I clearly made the right choice, so I hope and pray for your sake Sua has a mountain of patience, like you never shut up- ever. Thank you for the ride.” You ranted angrily before you made your way out of the car.

Yangyang’s jaw fell in fake offense, “You sure know how to pick ‘em Renjun.”

But he wasn’t met with the shocked face he thought he would see, he was instead met with a dazed, lovesick look. “Yeah I do, I might be in love.”

[gummygowon]

cute relationship things with ateez!

genre: fluff (a lot)

warnings: none :)

established relationship!

a/n: i meant to post this like two weeks ago but i never finished it so consider this an early valentine’s day gift <3 ;) 

seonghwa:

for some reason, i feel like seonghwa likes to read books

with that being said, on lazy days where you guys didn’t want to get up and do anything

you guys would read books !!!

before you guys would read some were recommendations from each other on your own

and then maybe rant to each other over little details about the book like how the main character went back to their toxic ex or how the ending of a book was so bad

“seonghwa, how did you even read this?!? the stupid ass main character keeps going back to that one jerk! like does she not realize she deserves more than his ugly ass???!!!?”

“y/n, just keep reading.” 

“but hwa-”

turns out the main character got with the other woman yayyyyy!!! fuck shitty men

i don’t know how it happened but you guys started your own little book club with each other

so you guys could finally talk rant together at the same time about the book

so since you guys started to read the same book and if you guys found down time together you would read together

like, imagine it’s a peaceful friday night

seonghwa is back from work and so are you

you guys already showered and ate dinner

you’re just reading and then seonghwa just scoops you up and then puts you in between his legs with your back against his chest

and you’re like “wtf bro?”

and he’s just like, “what? i wanna read too???”

“didn’t you like read ahead tho??”

“yeah, but i wanna read it again.”

that was a fatass lie

he just wanted to be close to you 

hongjoong:

ok so, we all know that this man is hella busy all the time

mans is the leader, song writer, producer, dancer, rapper (which is why he is good at all positions)

but you were patient with him and whenever he goes days without seeing you due to his busy ass schedule he would make it up to you yk what i mean

but on the more chill days when you saw hongjoong or even the days where he was cooped in his studio (you would visit him there because sometimes you just had to see him)

you guys would just lay on the couch, just enjoying each other’s presence and not feel like you have to make up for lost time

you would be on the bottom on your phone or reading a magazine/book

then hongjoong would be at the top with his head on your stomach as he would be writing down lyrics that came to mind

killing two birds with one stone you feel me

sometimes you would show him a funny meme that you found or quote something that you just read to him 

“hongjoong, look at the way he fell!” you would be dying of laughter

and then he wouldn’t notice because he was really roped into making lyrics 

but you also didn’t see him focusing so much because you were of course laughing at the kid that accidentally got bitchslapped off the couch because of their sibling

“joongie look!!!”

“what is it?”

you would then show him what happened and then he would look at with that “you really interrupted me for this??” type of look

“i just lost my train of thought for this song because you wanted to show me this kid falling off of a couch???” 

“yes?” 

he would just bring a hand to his face and think what tf? why tf? and then slowly start laughing because of what just happened

“see, wasn’t it funny?”

“a child getting hurt isn’t funny, y/n” he would laugh while scolding you

yunho:

yunho powers im sorry for this one

alright so, it’s night time 

you guys are about to go to bed after a long day or work/school whatever

your eyes are fluttering closed because the day got you beat beat

but then yunho just kisses your face

and then you open your eyes slowly again to see yunho look like he just got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do

like imagine a kid that just got caught drawing on the walls

that’s what his face would look like

he’s just laying there like “i thought you were asleep...”

“i was just about to...”

yunho feels lowkey guilty now because you’re awake now and he knows you had a long day

he just couldn’t resist kissing you 

you just looked so pretty and peaceful sleeping 

mans was reminded by the universe themself about how lucky he was being able to date you

like, godamn what did he do in his past life to deserve you?

ok, back to this reaction idea thing-

yunho would apologize for waking you up with his cheeks a nice rosy color

you just look at him with tired eyes 

“i’ll forgive you, if you give me more kisses.”

and yunho’s smile just lights up the whole damn room and he’s like oh? say less

so he goes to kissing your face

like all over

your nose

your cheeks

forehead

basically anywhere ok?

and you end up laughing because it tickles 

but you just want him to kiss your lips which he does 

... eventually lmao

but when he does your still laughing which causes him to laugh

he tells you “i love you, did you know that?”

and you get all flustered and shit but you still keep that playful energy around 

“i love you too, but you aren’t forgiven just yet”

which leads to more kisses :))))

yeosang:

ok so you’re now the busy one

yeosang has so much respect for you because holy shit how do you balance that busy ass schedule of yours

your homework loads were no jokes 

then to add to that you have a job which was even more stressful

it was amazing how you can manage all that and still keep a smile on your face

you also had major respect for yeosang as an idol

the industry was not a place to fuck around 

you couldn’t be happier that your boyfriend was lucky enough to have a group who actually cared and supported each other

speaking of ateez, yeosang isn’t the most touchy person in the world

you didn’t mind of course, you’re the same way

however, when he did give you cuddles and kisses you would be a blushing mess

a sort of rare sight that yeosang loved to see

anyways, one night you were busy writing those argumentative essays that you were sure that your fingers would fall off by the time you were finished

you were working on it ever since you got home from school (with the occasional food and bathroom breaks )to the time when yeosang came back from practice

you moved to your shared bed by the time the sweaty boy came home and he was surprised that you were working on one subject for so long

the stupid piece was almost finished by the time yeosang was out of the shower

however, you didn’t even notice

you were too immersed in your writing to notice

yeosang took this as an opportunity to sit behind you and wrap his arms around your waist and watch over your shoulder as you worked

and of course, he would kiss your cheek occasionally

this was super sweet gesture but yeosang but you didn’t the notice that he wrapped his arms around you

“ai yah! what the hell?” you yelled and turned around to see your boyfriend clutching his chest

“oh it’s just you.”

yeosang would give you a deadpanned look and be like, “yeah, who else tf???”

you would apologize and kissing his cheek before returning to back to work 

which yeosang would return to hugging your waist and keep his head on your shoulder

and give you occasional kisses on your cheek or neck

after that night, it became a weekly occurrence

which you loved of course, who wouldn’t love their bf cuddling them while they chased their bag

san:

i am very excited for this one

ok so, san loves playing with your hair

it’s just so much fun 

running his fingers through it or just attempting to braid it or put it into a tiny ponytail

he loved it

he would probably always play with your while you were watching tv together, sitting together in the car, or even before you guys fall asleep

then one day after san came home early from work 

you guys were chilling on the bed watching the latest k-drama that came out since san made you wait so you guys could watch it together

san was in between your legs with his back leaning against your chest 

and that’s when you decided to run your fingers through his soft, fluffy hair

that’s also when san asked you to braid his hair

“sure, what type of braid though?”

“there’s different kinds????” 

“yes, san. now pick one.” you gave him your phone that was pulled up to different types braids.

“i want the french ones. they sound fancy.”

you roll your eyes and start sectioning his hair into two sections and start braiding his hair and lightly pull on the pink strands because you know san likes his hair pulled

so you doing his hair right 

and you begin rambling about your day/week

talking about whatever interesting happened to you because you know that san likes hearing you talk no matter what it’s about

however, you were knee deep into talking about the latest drama at work that you didn’t even realize that san stopped talking

“san?”

he didn’t answer and his head would be dipping down so low you were surprised you didn’t fall over

“baby?”

san still wouldn’t respond to you 

but this time he just flipped over so his head would be on your stomach as he wrapped your arms around your stomach

“mmmmmmm?”

“nevermind love, just sleep.” 

he would respond by burying his head further into your stomach and tightened his hold around you

you kissed his head and ran your fingers through his hair which lulled san to sleep even more

“goodnight sannie.”

mingi:

you have been best friends with song mingi ever since you moved into the tiny neighborhood that you call home

it all started when your parents brought you over to your next door neighbor’s house for breakfast on a cold saturday morning 

you were extremely shy when you were little so the only thing you could remember about your first experience with mingi was hiding behind your mother’s leg for the first hour of being there and watching the young boy play with his toy cars and planes before he finally offered a pirate ship to you

ever since that unforgettable saturday, you pretty much spent the rest of your childhood with mingi

you guys were practically joined at the hip 

even when you were getting endlessly teased by your classmates for the first month of school for having an accent whenever you spoke 

which resulted in you running to the bathroom crying

not even a minute later, you heard someone burst through the girls’ bathrrom

“y/n?”

you peaked your head out of the stall to see your tall neighbor looking out of breath

“mingi, you aren’t supposed to be here!” you said in between sobs

“it’s okay, i don’t care.” he said as he awkwardly wrapped his arms around you. “are you okay?”

you shook your head no looking at him with tears running down your face

the poor boy was internally freaking out since he has no clue on how to comfort people (especially if they’re a girl)

he was like eight at the time give him a little break

so of course, his first reaction was to make you laugh somehow

and he did this by randomly recreating the “boots and cats, boots and cats” rhythm after seeing siri do it in a youtube video and started to bop his head 

surprised by his sudden movements, you laughed out of pure confusion

as soon as mingi saw the corner of your lips flip upwards he began rapping faster to the point where he was gasping for breath leading him into a coughing fit 

“mingi you can breathe, y’know!” you giggled in between words

after the young boy had caught his breath from hacking away at his lungs, he smiled at you 

until- the teacher had came into the bathroom, scolding mingi for going into the girls’ restroom

even though mingi didn’t care at all that he got in trouble, the only thing he cared about was that you were feeling better

ever since then whenever you were sad or having a bad day mingi would whip out his phone and ask siri to rap while he free-styled over the monotone voice 

he literally still does it

even two years into your relationship-

“siri, can you rap for me?” mingi would ask his phone as he pointed his free arm at you

“boots and cats-”

“mingi, please no.” you laughed in between tears, your mood rising with every beat

wooyoung:

i wholeheartedly believe that wooyoung would kiss you face if you were sad

but the first time this happened, you guys were still fairly new into your relationship

which meant that you weren’t completely ready to be extremely vulnerable around wooyoung 

because in your mind, letting someone see you at your lowest lows of means that you really trust and love someone to let them see you like that

you always wanted to be known as the strong person in the friend group

you were that glue that held everyone together

always listening to others and taking care of others before yourself

which is why wooyoung fell in love with you in the first place

he had never been in a relationship where someone was so caring and thoughtful of others that he was scared that he wouldn’t be enough for you and that you deserved better

of course, he didn’t tell you that right away but he confessed to you about that wayyy later in your relationship which is another story to be told

but one day, life was coming at you so fucking fast

assignments were piling up left and right and deadlines were literally every other day

and then there seemed to be an increase in the amount of angry karens at your work

and your patience was thinning everyday with those people

then to top it all off, all the tests you’ve been studying for, you got mediocre grades, some even worse in other subjects

it just felt like no matter how much work you put into whatever you do, you got half ass results

it was just pushing your mental health further into the ground

you could handle a C every once in awhile but multiple? on back to back tests? no fucking way you just couldn’t

those stupid, dark thoughts would cloud your mind in an instant and on days like this, you would just let them consume you

you were too tired to pick yourself up again and fight back which led to you crying in wooyoung’s arms

usually, you would feel so embarrassed crying over things like this when you know other people have it worse but you couldn’t hold in it anymore 

you ranted about yourself in between your hiccups from crying which would hurt wooyoung’s heart a little bit

because he thought of you as such a strong and kind person- the complete opposite of what you were saying about yourself

so when you were done talking, wooyoung made you look at him and assured you that you were not any of those nasty things that you said about yourself

each insult turned into a thoughtful compliment accompanied by a kiss

“y/n, you are so intelligent-” 

kiss

“caring-”

kiss

“beautiful-”

kiss

“more than everything i ever wanted”

kiss

by the time wooyoung was done, you were a giggling mess

“and this is why i love you.”

he finally kissed you on your lips, smiling into it like the dork he is

it was the first ever time he told you that he loved you

jongho:

i am also a firm believer that jongho would sing his s/o to sleep

like with that heavenly voice of his, he better put them to sleep 

so on the first night you ever slept with jongho, you were too nervous to go to bed even though your body was screaming at you to close your eyes 

you kept tossing and turning every few minutes or your eyes would shoot open with your heart racing

at this point, you gave up on trying to sleep and got up (carefully to not wake up your sleeping boyfriend) to get a drink

while you were in the kitchen, clutching your chest in an effort to get yourself to calm down, jongho had stirred awake to an empty bed

a flash of panic surged through his body as he momentarily forgot where he was since he wasn’t at his dorm his room never looked this clean 

yawning, the vocalist would wander into the light with his eyes squinted, “y/n?”

“oh my god!” you jumped, water almost spilling out your glass

jongho covered his ears, “what are you doing up?”

“oh,” you felt your cheeks turn red since you felt bad for waking your boyfriend up. “i can’t sleep.”

“why?” he asked, walking towards the couch.

“i don’t know.” you answered as you followed close behind. 

you curled up next to jongho, clutching his shirt “i’m sorry for waking you up.”

jongho smiled tiredly at you before kissing your head, “don’t be. it’s okay. i don’t have work tomorrow anyways.”

you smiled in response before the two of you guys fell into a silence

“do you want me to sing you to sleep?”

“yes, please.” you murmured into his side as jongho placed his other arm around you, successfully trapping you in between his arms

he began singing softly into your ear as he stroked your hair

his warm voice coaxing your eyes to close 

at last, your mind was at peace with itself

your heart beat slowing down

and by the time the song was finished you were fast asleep in arms

jongho kissed your forehead once more 

“i love you.”

[bananaofswifts]

By Paul Tingen

From sketches to final mixes, engineer Jonathan Low spent 2020 overseeing Taylor Swift’s hit lockdown albums folklore and evermore.

“I think the theme of a lot of my work nowadays, and especially with these two records, is that everything is getting mixed all the time. I always try to get the songs to sound as finalised as they can be. Obviously that’s hard when you’re not sure yet what all the elements will be. Tracks morph all the time, and yet everything is always moving forwards towards completion in some way. Everything should sound fun and inspiring to listen to all the time.”

Speaking is Jonathan Low, and the two records he refers to are, of course, Taylor Swift’s 2020 albums folklore and evermore, both of which reached number one in the UK and the US. Swift’s main producer and co‑writer on the two albums was the National’s Aaron Dessner, also interviewed in this issue. Low is the engineer, mixer and general right‑hand man at Long Pond Studios in upstate New York, where he and Dessner spent most of 2020 working on folklore and evermore, with Swift in Los Angeles for much of the time.

“In the beginning it did not feel real,” recalls Low. “There was this brand‑new collaboration, and it was amazing how quickly Aaron made these instrumental sketches and Taylor wrote lyrics and melodies to them, which she initially sent to us as iPhone voice memos. During our nightly family dinners in lockdown, Aaron would regularly pull up his phone and say, ‘Listen to this!’ and there would be another voice memo from Taylor with this beautiful song that she had written over a sketch of Aaron’s in a matter of hours. The rate at which it was happening was mind‑blowing. There was constant elevation, inspiration and just wanting to continue the momentum.

“We put her voice memos straight into Pro Tools. They had tons of character, because of the weird phone compression and cutting midrange quality you just would not get when you put someone in front of a pristine recording chain. Plus there was all this bleed. It’s interesting how that dictates the attitude of the vocal and of the song. Even though none of the original voice memos ended up on the albums, they often gave us unexpected hints. These voice memos were such on‑a‑whim things, they were really telling. Taylor had certain phrasings and inflections that we often returned to later on. They became our reference points.”

Sketching Sessions

“The instrumental sketches Aaron makes come into being in different ways,” elaborates Low. “Sometimes they are more fleshed‑out ideas, sometimes they are less formed. But normally Aaron will set himself up in the studio, surrounded by instruments and synths, and he’ll construct a track. Once he feels it makes some kind of sense I’ll come in and take a listen and then we together develop what’s there.

“I don’t call his sketches demos, because while many instruments are added and replaced later on, most of the original parts end up in the final version of the song. We try to get the sketches to a place where they are already very engaging as instrumental tracks. Aaron and I are always obsessively listening, because we constantly want to hear things that feel inspiring and musical, not just a bed of music in the background. It takes longer to create, but in this case also gave Taylor more to latch onto, both emotionally and in terms of musical inspiration. Hearing melodies woven in the music triggered new melodies.”

Not long after Dessner and Low sent each sketch to Swift, they would receive her voice memos in return, and they’d load them into the Pro Tools session of the sketch in question. Dessner and Low then continued to develop the songs, in close collaboration with Swift. “Taylor’s voice memos often came with suggestions for how to edit the sketches: maybe throw in a bridge somewhere, shorten a section, change the chords or arrangement somewhere, and so on. Aaron would have similar ideas, and he then developed the arrangements, often with his brother Bryce, adding or replacing instruments. This happened fast, and became very interactive between us and Taylor, even though we were working remotely. When we added instruments, we were reacting to the way my rough mixes felt at the very beginning. Of course, it was also dictated by how Taylor wrote and sang to the tracks.”

Dessner supplied sketches for nine and produced 10 of folklore’s 16 songs, playing many different types of guitars, keyboards and synths as well as percusion and programmed drums. Instruments that were added later include live strings, drums, trombone, accordion, clarinet, harpsichord and more, with his brother Bryce doing many of the orchestrations. Most overdubs by other musicians were done remotely as well. Throughout, Low was keeping an overview of everything that was going on and mixing the material, so it was as presentable and inspiring as possible.

Mixing folklore

Although Dessner has called folklore an “anti‑pop album”, the world’s number‑one pop mixer Serban Ghenea was drafted in to mix seven tracks, while Low did the remainder.

“It was exciting to have Serban involved,” explains Low, “because he did things I’d never do or be able to do. The way the vocal sits always at the forefront, along with the clarity he gets in his mixes, is remarkable. A great example of this is on the song ‘epiphany’. There is so much beautiful space and the vocal feels effortlessly placed. It was really interesting to hear where he took things, because we were so close to the entire process in every way. Hearing a totally new perspective was eye‑opening and refreshing.

“Throughout the entire process we were trying to maintain the original feel. Sometimes this was hard, because that initial rawness would get lost in large arrangements and additional layering. With revisions of folklore in particular we sometimes were losing the emotional weight from earlier more casual mixes. Because I was always mixing, there was also always the danger of over‑mixing.

“We were trying to get the best of each mix version, and sometimes that meant stepping backwards, and grabbing a piano chain from an earlier mix, or going three versions back to before we added orchestration. There were definitely moments of thinking, ‘Is this going to compete sonically? Is this loud enough?’ We knew we loved the way the songs sounded as we were building them, so we stuck with what we knew. There were times where I tried to keep pushing a mix forward but it didn’t improve the song — ‘cardigan’ is an example of a song where we ended up choosing a very early mix.”

Onward & Upward

folklore was finished and released in July 2020. In a normal world everyone might have gone on to do other things, but without the option of touring, they simply continued writing songs, with Low holding the fort. In September, many of the musicians who played on the album gathered at Long Pond for the shooting of a making‑of documentary, folklore: the long pond studio sessions, which is streamed on Disney+.

The temporary presence of Swift at Long Pond changed the working methods somewhat, as she could work with Dessner in the room, and Low was able record her vocals. After Swift left again, sessions continued until December, when evermore was released, with Dessner producing or co‑producing all tracks, apart from ‘gold rush’ which was co‑written and co‑produced by Swift and Antonoff. Low recorded many of Swift’s vocals for evermore, and mixed the entire album. The lead single ‘willow’ became the biggest hit from the album, reaching number one in the US and number three in the UK.

“Before Taylor came to Long Pond,” remembers Low, “she had always recorded her vocals for folklore remotely in Los Angeles or Nashville. When I recorded, I used a modern Telefunken U47, which is our go‑to vocal mic — we record all the National stuff with that — going straight into the Siemens desk, and then into a Lisson Grove AR‑1 tube compressor, and via a Burl A‑D converter into Pro Tools. Taylor creates and lays down her vocal arrangements very quickly, and it sounds like a finished record in very few takes.”

Devils In The Detail

In his mixes, Low wanted listeners to share his own initial response to these vocal performances. “The element that draws me in is always Taylor’s vocals. The first time I received files with her properly recorded but premixed vocals I was just floored. They sounded great, even with minimal EQ and compression. They were not the way I’m used to hearing her voice in her pop songs, with the vocal soaring and sitting at the very front edge of the soundscape. In these raw performances, I heard so much more intimacy and interaction with the music. It was wonderful to hear her voice with tons of detail and nuances in place: her phrasing, her tonality, her pitch, all very deliberate. We wanted to maintain that. It’s more emotional, and it sounds so much more personal to me. Then there was the music...”

The arrangements on evermore are even more ‘chamber pop’ than on folklore, with instruments like glockenspiel, crotales, flute, French horn, celeste and harmonium in evidence. “As listeners of the National may know, Aaron’s and Bryce’s arrangements can be quite dense. They love lush orchestration, all sorts of percusion, synths and other electronic sounds. The challenge was trying to get them to speak, without getting in the way of the vocals. I want a casual listener to be drawn in by the vocal, but sense that something special is happening in the music as well. At the same time, someone who really is digging in can fully immerse themselves and take in all the beauty deeper in the details of the sound and arrangement. Finding the balance between presenting all the musical elements that were happening in the arrangement and this really beautiful, upfront, real‑sounding vocal was the ticket.

“A particular challenge is that a lot of the detail that Aaron gravitates towards happens in the low mids, which is a very warm part of our hearing spectrum that can quickly become too muddy or too woolly. A lot of the tonal and musical information lives in the low mids, and then the vocal sits more in the midrange and high mids. There’s not too much in the higher frequency range, except the top of the guitars, and some elements like a shaker and the higher buzzy parts of the synths. Maintaining clarity and separation in those often complex arrangements was a major challenge.”

[hydroponicjj]

No Body, No Crime [2]

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Female!Peterkin!Reader

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Mentions of Drugs/Alcohol, Swearing, etc

Summary: Rafe is finding himself having trouble trusting Y/N, even after what she did for him.

A/N: Hello! This is the second chapter of No Body, No Crime. Please enjoy and, let me know if you’d like to be on the taglist! <3

「 ₊˚.༄ 」

The entire drive over to Topper's made you extremely nervous. Your stomach felt as if it was in a knot that couldn't be undone.

It only got worse when you began to recognize the scenery of Figure 8.

It was unusual of you to be so anxious.

Usually, you’re hyper-focused. You don’t have time to worry about all the possible things that could go wrong but, Rafe made you feel different.

Typically, the two of you would only interact in passing. Oftentimes in the kitchen at his house when you needed him to help you reach something on the top shelf.

Now, you’re about to see each other in a brand new light. Going from strangers to...

Honestly, you didn’t really know how to classify this blossoming relationship, considering it hasn’t started yet.

Turning a corner into a neighborhood, you recognized Topper's mansion almost immediately.

It was the second house on the right with pillars and a baby blue door. There were tiny American flags pitched in the yard with small lights showcasing their entrance.

There were so many cars parked on the street and in the driveway that it was nearly impossible for you to get close without clipping a vehicle.

Finding a good spot near the sidewalk, you emerged from your car, making sure to check that it was locked (a habit you learned from your mother).

Drawing closer to the front door, you spotted Rafe.

He was sitting ominously in a rocking chair on the porch, looking out into the yard.

"Hey." You called out. He broke from his intense gaze and glanced at you.

"Shit, I totally forgot that you were coming." He pinched the bridge of his nose, turning his head.

"Well, I'm here so.." You trailed off, taking a seat next to him.

Instantly, Rafe began to draw away from you. You noticed but refrained from commenting on it, not knowing what his problem was.

It wasn't long after that the tension started to fill the air. You’re usually the one keeping your distance from him, not vice versa.

“Are-Are you going to say anything?” You asked, nervously.

You had no idea what made his energy shift from the last time you spoke to him but, this wasn’t the same Rafe that you saw that afternoon.

“What do you want me to say?” He replied sharply, glancing over in your direction.

You were taken aback by him, “Rafe. You asked me to meet you here. I have no idea what the hell is going on. So, I just— I wanna know what’s happening.”

He froze, inhaling deeply. It was clear that he was searching for the right words to say that would get his message across.

“Y/N, I don’t trust you. You might be Sarah’s best friend but, you’re also the sheriffs' daughter.” His voice was cold and distant.

He genuinely viewed you as some kind of threat. Less than 7 hours ago, he was more than willing to rope you into whatever he had going on, and now, you’re just a burden to him.

You scoffed, “You seemed pretty happy to get your drugs back this afternoon. Was I the sheriffs' daughter then?”

“I stole from my mom, Rafe. That’s not something you just do for fun. Especially when you have a lot to lose on your end, okay. So, if I rat you out, I’m going down too.”

Guilt instantly flashed behind his blue eyes. It was evident as his features began to soften and he lowered his eyebrows.

He began to speak but, you cut him off, “Listen, Rafe, I don’t expect us to go out and get matching tattoos anytime soon but, we have to learn to trust each other, or else this thing isn’t going to work.”

He chuckled lightly, flashing you a crooked smile, “Yeah.” Rafe replied simply.

The loud booming of music coming from inside filled the silence.

“Didn’t you graduate high school yesterday?” Rafe asked, quirking his head to the side.

“Yeah... I-I did.” You replied, still surprised.

You weren’t valedictorian like your mother planned but, you were pretty damn close. Still, it wasn’t enough to satisfy Susan Peterkin so, you spent the entirety of graduation sulking.

You didn’t even get a chance to enjoy your High School graduation.

A sour taste formed in your mouth as your throat began to get tighter by the second.

Rafe noticed your sudden discomfort, “Well, you’re at a party. Why don’t you go inside and have fun? Celebrate the milestone.”

“You should celebrate too. I mean- finishing your first year of college.” You acknowledged, awkwardly trying to shift the conversation toward him.

“I took a gap year. Too many things to do and not enough time.” He shrugged.

You were so entranced by the way Rafe spoke. He wasn’t like you, who felt the need to give the deepest, most profound explanation for everything.

He was simple.

You liked simple.

Standing up, you extended your hand in his direction, “Come on,” you paused, grabbing him by the wrist, “We’re going inside.”

“No no no,” he protested, “I already told my friends I was leaving so,” Rafe resisted your grasp, staying firmly in his seat.

“I think we can handle Topper and Kelce.” You scoffed, giving him a playful look.

Rafe knit his eyebrows together, contemplating. It had already been an extremely long night. But, he was having a hard time pulling out the response from his chest.

"Shitttt," He drew out, "What the hell. It'd be nice to see you pull the stick out of your ass and relax."

Eyes lighting up and a smile tugging on your lips, you yanked on his wrist again. This time, he rose from the rocking chair, peering down at you, "Don't make me regret this, Peterkin."

"How could you possibly regret anything when you're with me?" You sent him a sly wink.

Twisting the front-door handle, you entered the Thorton household.

Your senses were instantly triggered. Your ears struggled to determine which was louder, the music or screaming of teenagers. Your eyes reacted to the fluorescent light projected on the ceiling.

The scent was absolutely putrid. Sweaty bodies and alcohol were not a good mixture, not under any circumstances.

"Ugh," Covering your nose with your right hand, you peered back at Rafe. He seemed completely fine.

This was normal for him.

Watching as he maneuvered around this situation with such ease inspired you.

Rafe was a complete mystery to you. Although with every interaction, he became less of a riddle, it was still a challenge trying to figure him out.

Abruptly, someone from behind you yelled, tearing you from your trance, "I said that you'd be back!"

Turning around, you saw Kelce and Topper making their way towards the two of you.

"Yeah, yeah," Rafe responded, playfully, drifting closer to his two friends.

A mere seconds later, Topper noticed you standing at a feeble 1 and a half feet shorter than Rafe.

"Holy shit," He gasped, "A-Are my eyes deceiving me, or is Y/N Peterkin at a party?"

This caught Kelce's attention and, he certainly couldn't resist making a sly comment, "How's your mom? Is she still 6 feet up the Pogues ass or....?"

Scoffing, you began to walk away but, something caught your shoulder.

"Listen, she's a bitch but, not as nearly as much as you think." Rafe defended.

You couldn't help but laugh, “Thanks.”

Yes, it was a shitty, backhanded compliment. But, it was coming from Rafe Cameron so, that's the best you're gonna get.

"Yeah, I'll believe it when I see it," Commented Kelce, turning his head to look around at the scenery.

“Rafe,” Topper paused, “Are you trying to get even more fucked up tonight?”

Glancing at Rafe, you noticed how tired he looked. Drooping eyes and hunched shoulders gave away how he was feeling.

“No, he has other priorities on his mind.” You chimed in.

“Ohhhhhhhh.” Kelce raised his eyebrows.

Wiggling two fingers between the two of you, “Are you guys....? You know?”

“Shut the fuck up, Kelce. You’re a goddamned idiot.” Rafe rolled his eyes, pushing his friend lightly.

“Relax. I’m not gonna swoop in on your girl. Just curious who you’re fucking this week.”

Glancing up at Rafe, he appeared extremely fed up with the current conversation.

“Come on, man,” Topper said, pulling Kelce by the shoulder, “Let’s leave these two alone. I’m sure they’ve got loads of shit to catch up on.”

The two walked out of the entryway, side by side, and floated right back into the epicenter of the party.

“Why do you do that?” You questioned, almost instantly.

Looking in your direction, he responded, “What are you talking about?”

Sighing, you began, “You willingly hang out with Dumb and Dumber,”

“You could be surrounded by people that are on the same intellectual level as you. Yet, you surround yourself with people like those 2 that are only interested in being so high that they can’t remember their name.”

Rafe shook his head, “It doesn’t matter.”

There he goes again. Being simple. Summing up everything he has to say in a mere 3 words.

"He deserves better than that." You thought but didn't say.

In your head, you could see Rafe walking away from the conversation and, you wanted him as close as possible (because you're not used to parties.... no other reason.... of course).

"This is stressing me out," You commented jokingly, running your hands through your hair.

If you weren't so hyperaware of your surroundings, you would've missed the way that Rafe was glancing at you.

He looked as if he was trying to decipher what was going on in your head.

“Come on.” He nodded his head in the direction of the living room (aka where 90% of the party-goers were).

You grinned slightly, “I was deprived of partying my entire 4 years of High School. I don’t think I should start now.”

You turned around and sat on the love seat in the Thornton entryway.

“You dragged me back in here so, the least you could do is sway your hips to some shitty music.”

“Maybe.” You smirked, teasing him.

“Alright, I’ll find Topper and Kelce. I’m sure they’ve got something interesting for me.” Rafe began to exit the room.

“Fine,” you rose from your seat immediately, catching his attention.

You shook your head in disapproval, “So manipulative.”

A smug look was plastered on Rafe’s face, “Yeah, well.... it worked.”

He shrugged and sent you a smirk.

「 ₊˚.༄ 」

You had never felt so free in your entire life.

It was surprising that such a wild atmosphere made you feel a sense of comfort and enjoyment, rather than fear and anxiety.

Maybe it was the fact that you clung to Rafe for the majority of the time.

He was such a social hotspot.

People of all ages and demographics were speaking to him. He kept the conversations brief and, it was clear that he wasn't very interested.

Nevertheless, he was dragged into a game of beer pong, and (with the help of Topper and Kelce) he agreed to play BUT, only if you did.

At first, you were hesitant, having no idea how to play but, there was something inside of you that hated the thought of saying no to Rafe.

You indulged him and decided to play, with the exception that you didn't drink, considering that you had to drive back home to the Cut.

It took a few tries for you to actually get the hang of things but, Rafe helped a lot.

He would often adjust your form, wrapping his arm around your waist and tugging you in another direction.

It made you nervous yet excited having him in such close proximity to you, whispering in your ear which direction to throw the ball.

Ultimately, the two of you ended up winning against Topper and Kelce (who were pissed that they lost to such an inexperienced player).

That was the beginning of the fun.

After that, you didn't feel the need to cling to Rafe as tight as you had been before.

You went off and had conversations with people that didn't go to your High School, which also meant they had no clue who your mother was.

You used to be extremely familiar with Figure 8 and you often found yourself missing it from time to time.

It was very nice to be able to surround yourself with people that weren't foaming at the mouth to run and tell your mother everything they saw.

It wasn't until you began to dance, swaying your hips to the beat that Rafe found you again.

"Y/N, I--I need a ride home." He began, speaking in a low but rushed tone.

"What?!" You yelled, not being able to hear him over the music.

You took a glance at him and, he looked horrible.

His eyes were extremely red and he reeked of alcohol and plenty of other illegal substances.

Not only that but, Rafe seemed extremely jittery. Almost as if something bad was going to happen if he didn't leave immediately.

Seeing the stress of the situation, you gripped Rafe by the arm and tugged him out of the hectic scene and into the nearest quiet room.

Finding a bathroom right before the kitchen, the two of you entered.

You sat him on the edge of the tub, crouching in front of him.

"Rafe," You paused, clutching the sides of his face, "Look at me. What's going on?"

Opening his eyes, he began to speak, "Please, just, please. Take me home." He buried his head into your shoulder.

You were stunned by his actions, having no idea what drug he took that made him act like that.

But, now was not the time to question Rafe, he needed your help and after all the progress the two of you made that evening, you weren't going to leave him behind.

"O-okay, okay. Yes, I'll take you home."

You stood up, continuing to hold his arm, afraid that he'd fall back into the tub.

"Rafe, can you stand? Can you walk?" You asked.

He nodded then rose, towering over you.

"Here," You directed him towards the sink, "Splash some cold water onto your face, okay?"

He did as you told him, gathering a scoop of water in his palms and splattered it onto his face.

After, he seemed slightly more coherent but, not nearly enough.

The two of you emerged from the bathroom. You were still clung to his arm, leading him in the direction of the exit.

Once, you left the inside of the house, you were bombarded with cars from all angles.

It then hit you that you had to park on the street.

As you led Rafe down the infinitely long driveway, you cursed in your head, upset at the universe for making you work against gravity in order to keep him from face-planting.

Finally, making it to your car, you reached in your pocket and unlocked it.

Opening the door to the passenger's side, you plopped Rafe in the seat and buckled him in.

You ran around the front of the car, trying to get back to Rafe as soon as possible.

"Rafe, do you have everything? Your phone, wallet, keys?"

"Mhm." He replied, setting his head on the back of the seat.

With that, you took one last glance at Rafe and put the car in drive.

「 ₊˚.༄ 」

Pulling into the driveway, you noticed that the Cameron household was quiet.

The only light coming from inside was the glare of the TV from Wheezie's room.

"Rafe, we're here." You said, shaking him. He had fallen asleep seconds after you started driving.

He didn't waste any time getting out of the car. Unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the door, he headed in the direction of the garage.

As he approached, it opened.

"I know they're rich but, damn, motion detected garage?" You commented, continuing to watch, making sure Rafe made it inside safely.

It wasn't until you started saw him stop that you noticed a figure standing in front of him.

It was Ward Cameron.

"Shit."

You knew Ward was going to give Rafe crap for staying out late, partying so, the least you could do was try and cover for him.

Emerging from your car, you walked towards the garage.

"Rafe, I need you to do it, okay? I don't want Sarah getting involved-" You caught the end of what Ward was saying before he stopped.

"Y/N!" He greeted, a smile on his face.

"Hey, Mr.Cameron." You waved awkwardly, sending a forced smile.

"Thank you so much for bringing this one home," He grabbed Rafe by the shoulder, pulling him into a side hug.

"No problem! I just needed his help with some things. The least I could do was take him home." You replied.

"Yeah, yeah," Ward nodded his head, looking back at the door.

"Listen, Y/N, thanks for putting in a good word with your mom. We really appreciate it."

"I'm sorry?" You knit your eyebrows in confusion.

"I got a call from the station today saying the charges against Rafe had been dropped. All of us are so thrilled that we can resume a normal life and move past this." He placed a hand on his chest.

You had no idea what he was talking about. Your mom wasn't home yet. There was no way she could've seen the drugs had been taken from her safe yet.

But, you had to play it cool, not wanting Ward to ask any questions "Sure, sure." you answered.

"Okay, welp," He paused, "Have a nice night, Y/N. Come by tomorrow and see us." Ward finished, hurridly.

With that, he turned around swiftly and went back inside his house, through the garage door.

That entire interaction was odd. You had never seen Ward act so tense.

Also, you couldn't help but wonder what was so urgent that Sarah couldn't do?

It had been less than 24 hours and, you're already wrapped up in things you couldn't begin to comprehend.

"I need to sleep."

Walking back to your car, you entered the driver's seat.

Putting the car in reverse, you exited the Cameron house and began your journey back to the Cut.

TAGLIST *strikethrough it won’t let me tag*: @oopsiedoopsie23 @a-bolanos @cocobutterqween @gabiatthedisco @athenastarkey @halsmultibitch @water13 @avaspringtime @niamhvivo @haterpenny @nerdypartytrashpsychic @casually-kook @mynameberose @malfoylaufeysonweasley

[poetrusicperry]

the poets and their first summer jobs

i’ve seen some discourse about how rich all the boys/their families are, and of course there would be like very little reason for them to work, but i couldn’t help wondering who would do what for their first jobs (summer jobs bc they couldn’t work while they’re at school). andddd that led me to writing this lol

neil: so neil would have like absolutely zero time for a job between all his normal coursework/extracurriculars and his summer classes (”you know me, always taking on too much”), but i guarantee you he would still take the time to get a job and have his own money to do with whatever he chose. mr. perry wouldn’t care much because it showed neil “taking initiative” or whatever. neil would likely work at a diner as either a bus boy or a waiter. he’s super personable, so he’d always strike up conversations with people sitting at the counter, and he’d get loads of tips bc he’s cute (: he’d bring his summer school work with him to do during lulls in business, which his boss didn’t mind because it’s neil and everyone knows how responsible he is. the poets would come visit him pretty much every day (to eat, see neil, and escape the heat in the air conditioning), likely taking up a whole booth, and making an absolute mess of the area. charlie would be making spitballs, aiming at cameron and knox every time (earning a “charlie, knock it off, i told you three times already! so mature of you, really.” from cameron) and meeks/pitts would try to see how many straws they could connect to make “ultra straw.” todd would come hang out at the counter when neil was closing, admiring his pretty bf as he worked (’: neil would always make todd a chocolate milkshake with whipped cream and rainbow jimmies on the house, claiming, “we have to empty out the ice cream machine anyway” (but really he’d take the cost out of his paycheck, just wanting to make todd happy). his boss would hire him back every summer, loving how much business neil drove in (even if the poets made a mess every time they hung out and ate) and absolutely adoring how much effort neil put into what anyone else would seemingly call a “meaningless” job.

todd: you can’t tell me that todd wouldn’t look forward to working. especially during the summers, it would get him out of the house and away from his parents judging his every move. being the shy introvert he is, he’d likely do things like mowing lawns or gardening for people around his neighborhood. minimal interactions, but still decent pay (as all the people in his neighborhood were likely super rich and could afford to pay him well). the poets’ parents would hire him, after much convincing from their sons (”todd’s just trying to make some money, dad. please?”) and todd would appreciate this more than they ever knew. he’d become super familiar with flower types and he’d become a lot more nurturing after taking care of plants and grass for multiple summers. he’d keep a little journal or notebook with drawings or sketches of the flowers he’d taken care of, complete with descriptions and magazine/newspaper clippings from his mom’s better homes and garden subscription (a lot of his poetry would become nature-related as well). it would be his late night project, or something he’d do if he couldn't sleep (which was pretty common for todd). he’d call neil on the phone some nights and just gush about all kinds of flowers or tell neil how he accidentally got stung by a bee and cried about it because he knew the bee would die (all the while, neil would be listening so intently, taking note about which flowers were todd’s favorites for future use (’: the calls would have to be pretty planned, bc if neil wasn’t working, he was doing school work, or his parents were keeping an annoyingly close watch on him. but sometimes neil would call him impromptu and that made todd just the happiest little camper ever). todd’s nails would be really short (he’d cut them really often because he doesn’t like the feeling of dirt under his nails), which means he couldn’t bite his nails anymore, causing him to pick up a new anxious habit of biting the inside of his bottom lip ): overall, though, todd would like his job, and even find pleasure in being surrounded by little flowers all day. also if/when neil ever got the chance, he’d absolutely tag along to see his sweaty boyfriend in action (come on, neil would go absolutely nuts for todd in a cutoff shirt, 5″ inseam shorts, and converse mowing a lawn looking all manly and tough). 

charlie: obviously, charlie wouldn’t need to work because of his financial situation, but his mom would 110% make him get a job just so he wouldn’t be around the house causing trouble/bothering his siblings for fun (”i’m hosting a lot of book club meetings for the country club this summer, i can’t have you putting spiders in the ladies’ hats again, charles”). similar to neil, mr. charlie dalton would work his summers at an ice cream/custard stand. he’d have to wear a white, short sleeve button up, a red and white striped apron, and one of those white, rectangular hats (his least favorite part HAHA, stating, “my hair is one of my best features and this just takes it all away. it’s unfair.”). the poets would visit often, both for ice cream, but primarily to give him a hard time about his uniform (”i’ll give you twenty bucks to wear this on our first day of classes” meeks would tease, completely gobsmacked when charlie showed up to their first chemistry class in his uniform, earning lots of demerits, but also twenty dollars). charlie would hate it at first, but obviously he’d adjust, being the extroverted/personable person, not taking himself too seriously and being one of the best ice cream slingers anyone had ever seen. he’d give the cute girls (and boys) extra scoops of ice cream for free, winking as he handed them their orders. like neil’s boss, charlie’s boss was even more thankful for charlie’s presence because they’d likely be raking in at least triple the income they would in a summer without him. he’d become a sundae expert, spending many dead poets meeting making them for his friends while they read poems and stories. that being said, he’d come to hate eating ice cream, publishing an article in welton’s honor demanding that they remove ice cream from their dessert menu (yes, almost exactly like the “girls at welton” prank, but he’d make the call collect this time. mr. nolan would be fed up to the point where he wouldn’t even punish charlie physically, just suspend him from rowing [which charlie wouldn’t mind at all HAHA]).

meeks & pitts: after their hi-fi success and the fact that they are seemingly inseparable, they both sought out jobs at the local radio station where they were hired as interns/assistants, running errands and picking up coffee or lunch for the station. but sometimes, when they worked pretty late, the night shift dj would let them pick the records and show them how everything worked (: after nights like that, meeks and pitts would go to one of their houses and add modifications to their hi-fi radio, staying up all night modifying and researching (by the end of the summer, they had made another hi-fi (portable) and their og hi-fi would have been morphed into a huge nationally reaching radio that they keep in the cave (since it would be disallowed in their room at welton). another job that the two of them would have would be answering calls for the station about song requests. with this knowledge, charlie and the other poets would hang out at someone’s house, calling and requesting the same songs over and over and over again. their biggest task for the summer would be organizing the shelves with all the records into alphabetical order (”duh, we should go by first name, meeks. which other way would it be” pitts would argue, only to find out that after they had spent about three weeks alphabetizing by first name, they were supposed to go by last name. “now who’s the idiot?” meeks would jeer, beginning to pull the records off the shelves). they’d also learn a lot about music from their night shift coworker, which would help in their quest to woo some ladies the following school year.

cameron: cameron liked spending his summers doing research projects for fun and just reading a whole lot, so you can imagine his displeasure at when his parents asked him to get a job (presumably to help with paying for his schooling). while upset about it, he wouldn’t complain, and took it on the chin, understanding the reasoning. he’d apply to a couple places, but ultimately end up as a grocery store cashier/stock boy. much like charlie, he’d have the same kind of uniform, but with a green apron instead. he’d spend most of his shift ringing people up at the register, being friendly and personable (something no one ever really realized about him !!). the poets’ moms would always see him and choose his register on purpose, using it as a chance to catch up or tell him to tell his parents that “the overstreets say hello!” or “mrs. anderson says hi!” pitts, meeks, and charlie would utilize cameron’s position at the supermarket to buy nudie magazines unembarrassed/slightly illegally HAHA (”come on, cameron! it’s not like you won’t be included in seeing them next year, too. we bring them to the meetings, you know that!” charlie would say, leaving cameron at a loss, reluctantly scanning the magazines and bagging them as pitts and meeks sniggered). charlie would wave, blow him a kiss, and wink as they left, “love you, richardddd.” sure enough, the magazines would make an appearance during the following school year and cameron was glad he had decided to let them buy the magazines lol. 

knox: out of all the poets, i feel like our knoxious would be the least inclined to work (yes, even less inclined than charlie). his parents wouldn’t even make him get a job because he simply didn’t need to, but to everyone’s surprise, he would volunteer at the animal shelter. the poets would later find out that it was a great way to meet girls (which is why he did it lmfao so they endlessly goaded him about it). charlie would visit often, and even took a rescue puppy home, much to charlie’s younger sister’s delight. charlie even wanted to start volunteering at the shelter to also meet girls, but he was too busy at the ice cream stand (plus, he had really grown to like it there so he didn’t want to leave). another effect of volunteering made knox super interested in zoology and animals, which brought out a newer, more nurturing/caring side to him, and who knows, maybe he’d go vegetarian somehow. he’d want to pursue a career in animal science or becoming a veterinarian, but mr. overstreet was hellbent on knox taking over the firm, so it seemed like a pipe dream. knox would continue to volunteer at the animal shelter, well into his career as a lawyer, and would even go to veterinary school in his 30s (when he was a nationally famous, established lawyer) to get certification to work with animals in a broader way (: 

hope you guys liked these. it was pretty fun to write, and i'd pay such good money to see neil, charlie, and cameron in their uniforms (and todd, but that’s neither here nor there). happy thursday !! let me know what you guys think of these <3(:

[flying-nightwing]

Fluff Alphabet - Jason Todd

Hello guys! This is my first alphabet because I saw everyone do it and i wanted in. I took this alphabet. I had a lot of fun to indulge in Jason, because well. Do I need to explain? 

Anyhow, enjoy this little thing inspired by my feelings for Jason Todd!

Disclaimer: This is my vision of the character and in no way an universal truth

Check out my masterlist in bio // pinned!

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

Your eyes. Jason could get lost in them by a simple glance. They say eyes are the windows to the soul, and he found it to be very true the second he met you. He will sometimes doubt he’s worth your love, but your gaze is enough to reassure him at every turn. He also can’t get enough of that spark that lights up when he makes you laugh, it draws him in. Your eyes are so kind and loving, the rest doesn’t really matter to him.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

Let’s be truthful here, Jason is terrified of having kids. Everytime the discussion gets even close to the topic of family, he gets vivid images of his own father with him and it fills him with dread that he'll end up just like him. Then, he thinks about his lifestyle and how just being the Red Hood (or having been, as a matter of fact) could endanger his family. But I think deep down he craves having a family, having kids (whether they’re biologically his or adopted), because he’s just that natural caring person.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

Continuing on that natural caring person wave, Jason will usually cuddle as the big spoon. His large frame makes it ridiculously easy for himself to wrap around you completely, and he loves to see you curled up around him, safe and comfortable in his arms. He likes to know he’s shielding you from any potential danger, it just eases his conscience. But sometimes he’ll have a bad day, or a rough patrol, and he’ll wordlessly slip in your hold in bed. It surprises you every time how small he can make himself, with his head on your chest above your heart and latched around your waist holding for dear life. Then, he’ll rely on you to make him feel safe, and he’ll fall asleep like that (he also likes when you play with his hair when he gets like that).

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

Jason is insanely romantic, nobody can prove me otherwise. With the amount of novels and books he read, it would be hard not to know how to be an exemplary lover. However, doing grand gestures in public and/or expensive shits is not his style. So it isn’t rare to come back home from your job after a tough week, to see Jason lighting up candles on a rose petals covered table, smiling at you and telling you to get changed in your pajamas and relax a bit before he finishes cooking (probably one of you favourite meals, or something new he knows you’ll like to surprise you). Dancing on your building’s rooftop or driving outside the city to take a walk under the stars are also his ideas of dates. It’s always something private and meaningful and a proof Jason is a hopeless romantic.

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…))

“You are my reason to keep going on.” I believe at some point after he came back from the dead, Jason had a really hard time finding a reason to keep living (finding out he was replaced as Robin, that Batman didn’t kill the joker, etc…). He was in a really dark place and numb to everything. But then, he met you and suddenly life wasn’t so terrible. After a while, he even finds himself excited to get up in the morning (or early afternoon if he’s been on a long patrol) and smiling at random times. He wants to make an effort for you, because you deserve his best self and the least he can do is try (you still love him at his worst though, and he still can’t wrap his head around it but he’s insanely grateful for it).

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

One night, Jason woke up in sweats and screaming his lungs out. He had a nightmare where you were kidnapped and tortured by the joker the way he was; it was the first time you were the victim in his nightmares (usually it was faceless people or himself, and even sometimes his brothers. But never you). He found himself wanting to have you in his arms, needing to have you in his arms, and that’s how he knew it wasn’t just a crush anymore, that he was in deep with you.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

People have this misconception that Jason is rough, judging by the everything about him. But you would have never foreseen him to be so delicate and gentle with you. He is very strong and can be rash sometimes, but with his lover, he is always careful. He has enough pain and hurt in his life there is now way he’d put the most important person in his life through that. You have to almost beg him to be rough with you, and he’ll only let go if he’s 100% sure you’re okay with it.

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

Absolutely. He’s not big on PDA but he always wants to hold your hand, especially in public. He can get uncomfortable if there are too many people around, and the little subconscious squeezes of your hand never fails to bring him back to reality and help him focus on you instead of feeling trapped. Also he’s afraid of losing you in a crowd, even if he’s tall and could spot you easily. So yeah, his hand in yours is a constant.

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

Depends on how you met really. It’s hard to say really, he might have seen you as an angel, or as a simple acquaintance until he discovered your character and you grew on him. He’s a versatile boy in the people he falls for.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

Not jealous per say, but insecure. Everytime he sees you talking with someone who seems to be (subconsciously or not) flirting with you, he gets this feeling you’ll suddenly realize you could do much better than him and leave him for someone less broken, less messed up than him. It creeps in his chest and hurts like a heart attack, and it only dies down when you inevitably come back in his arms and look at him like he’s your world. Then, the storm dies and he knows he at least got one more day with you. And as much as the idea of Jealous Jason showing you who you belong to (wink wink) is appealing, I don’t think it would happen unless it has been established both of you were into that kind of foreplay and he knows for sure you’re in for the long haul with him. Then it becomes a game rather than an actual insecurity thing.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

Jason’s kisses are soft and wholesome. You can feel every ounce of love and admiration he has for you, and even if they do get emotional or even dominant at some points, it’s never forecefull. Who initiated the first kiss is nebulous, I think it was more of a mutual thing than an unilateral decision. I like to think it happened in a magnet effect, where both parties met halfway because Jason is a very respectful person in general (except if you piss him off for real) and he wouldn’t make you uncomfortable by kissing you without your consent.

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

It’s gotta be you. Jason, who’s afraid of saying it and getting rejected/mocked would definitely not want to get his feet wet first (what if you laugh? What if you leave?). He will show it in his way, but he’d wait for you to say the words first. But once it’s out there? Hooty hoot. He’ll say it like a mantra. He’ll never ever stop saying it at every occasion he gets. 

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

At the fair in your city. Spending the afternoon going from attraction to attraction, having fun in the small roller coaster you were pretty sure was one heavy loaded train away from toppling down. After sun down, you went from game booth to game booth, collecting small and colorful stuffed animals and eating everything sugary and fat you could get your hands onto. You were convinced you could beat the rigged shoot the duck game, and when you couldn’t, Jason stepped in and absolutely made the smug smirk drop from the guy’s face. You walked away with a giant Panda, sleepy as hell after you sugar rush, and Jason had to carry you out of the car bridal style. That picture you took on top of the ferris wheel is on his nightstand and is his favourite possession of his. 

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

No, he’s not that kind of guy. I think he’s much more into meaningful acts and gestures than buying your love. He would sometimes spoil you if the occasion came to it, but I don’t think he’d be the type to open up his wallet as a demonstration of love.

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

Aqua blue. No other reason than the fact it’s probably the color the most opposite to red. While he absolutely loves to see you wear red things (it drives him crazy in the sweetest way), he doesn’t want to associate you with the darkest part of him. You’re the beautiful blue to his glaring red, because you’re the best thing in his life and he wants to outline and highlight you out as much as possible.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

I don’t think he has a signature pet name, he probably uses one that fits with the object of his affections and the history he has with them. He’d also be mindful of what you like and don’t like, and adjust them accordingly. 

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

Libraries. The old ones that smell of paper and leather. The ones with the shelves that climb up to the wall and the old worn seats that are just perfect to sit into and read for hours. Jason loves a calm environment and a quiet victorian library does the trick just well.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

Read, cuddles, adult cuddles... ;) I think Jason likes rainy days because it gives him an excuse to spend time with you at home. He’d probably bake something in the afternoon and you might or might not turn it into a flour war, make a mess in the kitchen but make a bonding activity of cleaning it up after (he and you know when to be kids and when to be mature and you both respect the line, and that’s why it’s so fun). Rainy days are domestic days and nothing is more pure or adorable than domestic Jason. It’s a hill I’ll die on. 

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

That’s a tricky one, because when Jason spirals down he has trouble getting out by himself. But when you are down, Jason will go to hell and back to make sure you feel better. He’ll cook you your favourite thing, skip patrol to stay by your side, do a dumb tik tok dance to put a smile on your face or hear you laugh. He’d be attentive to your needs and do everything in his power to help you.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Everything. Jason is a smart boy, he’d enjoy either talking about art, or about larger questions in the universe, or maybe about the birds that made a nest outside. Jason is incredibly easy to talk to when he’s receptive to the person talking to him, and that surprises anyone who knows him on the surface or less. 

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

Massages, but only by you. He trusts you, he is as comfortable as he can get with you seeing him shirtless with his scars (no professional masseur/se will ever get up close to him), and with you touching him in perhaps more sensitive or vulnerable places. He’d close his eyes and let involuntary moans when you’d unknot the tension in his muscles (and you’d secretly enjoy having such a force of nature all putty and soft under your hands). Then it’d be cuddle time and he would be relaxed as he’s ever been.

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

That’s simple: you. You’re his beautiful partner, the only one he has eyes for, so the world should see how great you are. He’d find a way to place you in every conversation, whether it would be to point out that hey, you can do that too, or because he just can’t shut up about you. That earns him infinite teasing from his family on how soft he is for you, but he can’t bring himself to care because he loves you so much. 

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

Jason wanted to marry you, and you had talked about it enough as a couple that he knew you wanted it too. But he wanted to wait for the right moment and he couldn’t plan that. The proposal probably happened at an unexpected moment, like when you tried to make him soup when he got injured and ended up messing it up bad. You came back to the couch and apologized to him profusely, and with stars in his eyes he asked you to marry him. Or when one of his enemies tried to take you while taking out the trash, but you chucked the garbage bag AND the metal lid to them, and Jason got down on one knee the second you finished recounting the story, out of breath from running back inside. The wedding was a private affair (Roy was his best man) somewhere quiet and meaningful, without too many artifices or big set up. It was perfect for you two.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

This is a hard one. I feel like Jason would be into soul/jazz, in the style of Marvin Gaye, Nat King Cole or Frank Sinatra. To some extent he is a very old school person, and I believe music is one of the topics that falls into that old school side of him. It’s just a feeling, it’s how I imagine Jason. Unforgettable by Nat King Cole would be his to-go song when it comes to you. 

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

Oh yea. Jaybird’s got the ring in mind as soon as he knew you were the one. See Wedding above.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

I don’t think he’d want a pet, because he can be absent often, or he wouldn’t have enough time. But if he’d have to, he’d get a cat, I think. Walking a dog morning and night would get a little bit much, especially since sometimes he might have trouble getting out of bed after patrol. But a cat, a rescue stubborn older cat who has seen others, that would be a match. The cat would be distant at first, but one morning he’d wake up with his grump of a feline curled beside his pillow and purring, or after a rough day the cat would bring him its toy and Jason would just. Cry. Because this little creature became his friend. And it’s so pure. (Also Jason building cat trees and climbing installations for the cat? Satisfying image).

[hughjidiot]

Jelly Beans, A Sashannarcy Oneshot

So I’ve written a number of Sashannarcy oneshots that I’ve posted over on AO3 and figured it was about time I start sharing them here as well. So here’s the first oneshot, in which Sasha brings some special candy to spice up the girls’ weekly game night

---

“BeanBoozled?”

 Anne blinked in confusion as she beheld the colorful box Sasha was holding up. She and Sasha sat on the couch in the living room of the apartment they shared with Marcy, who at the moment was searching through the board game cabinet for a suitable game for their weekly game night.

 “Picked it up while I was out running errands today,” Sasha said. “Thought it could be a fun way to spice up game night.”

 “How are jelly beans gonna make game night more interesting?” Anne asked with a furrowed brow.

 Sasha grinned and gave the box a shake, the candy contents rattling within. “Ah, but these are no ordinary jelly beans. There are ten colors, but twenty possible flavors. Each color can be something really good, or really  really bad, and the only way to tell is to pop one in your mouth and hope for the best. Take a look.”

 Sasha passed the box to Anne. Her eyes widened as she beheld the flavors on the back. “Birthday cake or dirty dishwater? Coconut or spoiled milk? Peach or  barf!? Jeez, it’s like Russian Roulette with candy!”

 “Nah, at least with Russian Roulette the odds are five-to-one in your favor,” Marcy said as she walked over to the couch, a huge stack of boxes in her hands. “With those it’s more like a coin flip. Heads you get a delicious bean, tails you get one that’ll make you wanna die.”

 “Exactly,” Sasha said with a smirk and a mischievous glint in her eye. “What do you say, girls? Wanna raise the stakes this week?”

 “Sounds potentially disgusting and humiliating,” Marcy said, setting the board games on the table and taking a seat on the couch next to Anne. She grinned. “I’m in.”

 “Me too,” Anne said, smiling and handing the box back to Sasha. “What did you have in mind?”

 Sasha  hmmm’ed  as she looked over the games Marcy was offering. “We need a simple game. Let’s see here...  Clue,  no…  Cards Against Humanity, Settlers of Catan, Boss Monster…  no, no, nope… Ah, perfect!  Would You Rather.”

 Sasha opened up the game in question, took out a stack of cards and began shuffling them as she continued speaking. “So here’s what I’m thinking: we each take turns drawing a card and asking an either/or question for the other two to answer. Anyone who picks the less popular option has to eat a random bean out of the box. Sound good?”

 Anne and Marcy nodded. Sasha set the deck of cards down and drew the top one. “Cool, I’ll start us off then. Anne, Marcy, would you rather… punch a pilgrim or eat an avocado?”

 Anne sputtered out a laugh. “What kind of question is  that?”

 “That’s just the game,” Marcy said with a shrug. “Some of the choices have logic to them, others are just completely random. I think I’d rather eat an avocado, they’re loaded with nutrients and can be used to make guacamole.”

 “Avocado it is,” Sasha said. “Anne?”

 Anne pursed her lips. “Well from what I remember from history class, the Pilgrims  were kind of dicks… But I think I’ll go with the avocado too.”

 “And those are your final answers?” Sasha asked her girlfriends. Anne and Marcy nodded. “Well congratulations! According to the card fifty-nine percent of people agree with you.”

 Marcy and Anne high-fived. Sasha discarded the card and Anne reached for the deck to draw her own card.

 “Okay Marcy, Sasha, would you rather… have no teeth or have no tongue?”

 “Oof, that’s a tough one,” Sasha said. “Either one of those would make eating a pain in the ass.”

 Marcy rubbed her chin. “I think I’d rather have no teeth. ‘Cause at least if you have a tongue you could still taste stuff.”

 “But how would you chew with no teeth so you don’t choke and die?” Sasha asked.

 “Well that’s what blenders are for. Plus no tongue means you can’t  talk either.”

 “Oh, that’s a good point. Yeah, I’ll go with no teeth too.”

 Anne nodded, discarding her card. “You and sixty-three percent of people. Congrats girls, no one gets to try the beans yet. You’re up Marbles.”

 Marcy drew a card. “Sash, Anne, would you rather… sing everything you say or dance all your movements?”

 “Sing everything,” Sasha said with a proud smirk. “After all,  I’m a heart-stomper~! Stompin’ on hearts~!”

 Anne and Marcy laughed. “Oh man I haven’t thought about our old garage band in  years,” Marcy said. “We should break out the instruments one of these days, for old time’s sake.”

 “Yeah but it’s been so long we probably suck,” Anne said. “Dancing was always more my thing, so that’s what I’m going with.”

 “Ooh, first time two of us have picked different options,” Marcy said. She reached down for the BeanBoozled box. “Those are your final answers?” The other two girls nodded. “And the jelly bean goes to… Anne!”

 “Aw, for real?” Anne asked as Sasha pumped a fist in the air. Marcy nodded and showed the text on the card: fifty-six percent of people would rather sing as opposed to forty-four who’d rather dance. “Damn it. Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here…”

 On the back of the box was a circle of the ten jelly beans with a built-in spinner. She gave the spinner a flick and watched it slow until it settled on brown. “Okay that’s… chocolate pudding or canned dog food? Oh boy.”

 Anne picked through the box of candies, pulling out a single brown bean. She held the candy up between her thumb and forefinger, gulping audibly. “Well. Here we go…”

 Marcy and Sasha watched with great interest as Anne plopped the candy in her mouth. She slowly chewed… and a smile graced her face.

 “Oh thank God, it’s chocolate pudding!” She said, swallowing.

 “Aw, well that’s no fun,” Sasha said with an exaggerated pout. “You were supposed to get a gross one so me and Marcy could laugh at your misfortune.”

 “Hey, the night’s still young,” Anne said. “Don’t forget  you could also end up with a gross bean, Sasha.”

 “Well not this time, ‘cause it’s my turn to ask the question.” Sasha drew the next card of the deck. “Would you rather… be dangled over the edge of the cliff or forced to speak in public?”

 “Dangled off a cliff,” Marcy said instantly.

 “Really, Mar-Mar?” Anne asked flatly.

 “You girls  know how I am about public speaking! Why do you think I did most of the work during our group projects back in school and left the actual presentations to you two?”

 “Yeah, but we’re talking about public speaking vs. being dangled off a cliff!”

 “It doesn’t say anywhere that you actually get dropped!”

 Anne rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’ll still go with public speaking.”

 “You and seventy-eight percent of people,” Sasha said. “Sorry Marcy, but the price of not having to speak in public is a gross jelly bean.”

 “Totally worth it,” Marcy said defiantly. She picked up the box and flicked the spinner. “And I get… toasted marshmallow or stink bug.”

 She plucked a brown-and-white bean from the box and plopped it in her mouth. She slowly chewed, and her neutral expression slowly morphed into disgust.

 “Oh. Oh that doesn’t taste good,” she said. Her jaw moved again and she gagged, hand going to her mouth. “Oh that’s really not good!”

 Anne tried to cover her giggle with a closed fist. “I don’t think she got the toasted marshmallow,” she said to Sasha, who openly laughed and slapped her knee. Marcy hunched over, face contorting.

 “Ugh, it tastes like how stink bugs smell,” Marcy said with a grimace. “That  sucked .”

 “Could’ve avoided it if you just did a little public speaking,” Sasha said in a sing-song voice.

 “Bite me, Sash,�� Marcy grumbled. “Let’s see how you like it when  you get one of those beans. Draw a card, Anna-Banana.”

 Anne nodded and did so. “Would you rather own a mini horse or own a regular horse?”

 “Ooh, I’d love a mini horse,” Sasha said with a smile. “They can actually be kept as house pets, right?”

 “Yeah, but they still require a lot of upkeep,” Marcy pointed out. “If you’re gonna have a horse, it might as well be a full-sized one you can actually ride. I’d rather have a regular horse.”

 “Well I’ve got good news Marcy, so would fifty-nine percent of people.” Anne said. Sasha crossed her arms with a  hmph as Marcy smirked. 

 “Go ahead, take a bean Sasha,” Marcy said, holding the box out and giving it a taunting rattle.

 “Fine, I will,” Sasha said haughtily. She accepted the box and spun the spinner. “And I got… buttered popcorn or rotten egg.”

 Sasha quickly fished a yellow-and-white spotted jelly bean out of the box and quickly popped it in her mouth, face full of determination. Seconds passed as she chewed, Anne and Marcy watching her expression closely.

 Finally, Sasha smirked.

 “Buttered popcorn it is!” She said triumphantly. “Once again Sasha Waybright comes out on top.”

 “Seriously?” Marcy plopped back on the couch, crossing her arms and letting out a frustrated exhale. “I can’t believe I’m the only person who didn’t get a good bean yet!”

 “Cheer up Marbles, I’m sure you’ll get a tasty bean at some point,” Anne said. “Now draw the next card, this is getting good!”

 ---

 “Green,” Marcy said. It was a few questions later and she’d picked another lower option, choosing to only have access to games online along with thirty-three percent of people, compared to sixty-seven percent who’d rather have access to only Youtube. The spinner had given her a light-green bean to sample. “That’s juicy pear or  booger?  Oh jeez…”

 She picked a green jelly bean from the box and popped it in her mouth, chewing tentatively. She retched, cheeks turning as green as the candy she just ate.

 “Oh God it’s booger,” she said with a retch, to Anne and Sasha’s shared amusement. “ Blech, plech!  Oh that’s foul!”

 “Okay, so you got two bad ones in a row,” Anne said between giggles. “I’m sure you’ll have better luck next time.”

 ---

 “More people would rather drink tea than coffee, are you for real?!” Marcy asked, incredulous.

 “Well coffee  is an acquired taste, and there’s like a million different varieties of tea,” Anne pointed out, having picked the tea option to the question Sasha had given.

 “Yeah but… coffee!”

 “We get it Marcy, you love your bean water,” Sasha said. “But you still picked the lesser option, so it’s jelly bean time.”

 Marcy gave the spinner a twirl and grimaced. “Strawberry banana smoothie or dead fish?! Oh this isn’t gonna be fun.”

 She dug through the box until she found a lightly-colored orange bean with red speckles. With a heavy sigh she tossed it in her mouth, and her face contorted in disgust almost instantly.

 “Dead -  ack, hack - fish!” She said between gags. Anne looked like she was caught between sympathy and amusement, while Sasha was openly laughing.

 “Man Marcy, those beans really hate you,” Sasha said, wiping a tear from her eye.

 ---

 “Oh goodie, I got another one wrong,” Marcy said with a too-wide smile. “Silly me for thinking more people would rather die by drowning in a tsunami than throw themselves in lava.” 

 She let out a short, desperate laugh as she grabbed the box of jelly beans. “You know what? That’s fine, it’s fine. So what if three of three beans have tasted like garbage? One of them is bound to be good sooner or later. I mean if you flip a coin enough times, it’s bound to come up heads at some point. That’s just the law of averages, yeah.”

 “Uh, I think that’s the gambler’s fallacy,” Sasha pointed out with a raised brow.

 “Shut up and let me have hope, Sasha.” Marcy spun the spinner and giggled again. “Oh good, it’s peach or barf. That’s fine, that’s totally fine. Nothing to worry about, I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”

 She plucked another jelly bean out of the box, this one a darker orange with red flecks. She kept giggling, one of her eyes twitching.

 “You sure you’re okay, Marcy?” Anne asked, concerned.

 “I’m just  peachy , Anne!” Marcy said, far too brightly. “Peachy like I’m sure this jelly bean will be!”

 She stuffed in her mouth, chewing quickly. The smile remained frozen on her face even as her eyes began to water.

 “Aaaand it’s barf because  why not?!”  Marcy doubled over, hacking and coughing. “Oh God it’s on the sides of my tongue!”

 Anne gave Marcy a comforting pat on the back. Sasha just shook her head with a chuckle.

 “Okay, maybe we should give BeanBoozled a rest before Marcy keels over,” she said. “It was funny at first, but now it’s just getting sad.”

 “No no, I’m fine,” Marcy insisted even as she kept gagging. “I can get a good bean at some point, I know I can!”

 Anne and Sasha exchanged uncertain glances as Marcy grabbed the next card, it being her turn to read the question. “Okay, would you -  blech - rather be a Jedi master or an elite Saiyan?”

 “Ooh, I’d rather be a Saiyan,” Anne said instantly. “I love Dragon Ball!”

 “Well I guess I’ll be a Jedi,” Sasha said with a shrug. “At least I’ve actually seen Star Wars. I’ve only seen like a handful of Dragon Ball episodes.”

 “Well sixty-eight percent of people agree with you, Sasha,” Marcy said. “Sorry Anne, looks like it’s your turn for a bean.”

 Anne nodded and spun the box’s spinner with a swift finger flick. Around and around it spun until it landed on blue. “That’s berry blue or toothpaste.”

 “Aw man, you got an easy one,” Marcy said with a pout as Anne picked a blue jelly bean out of the box. “Toothpaste doesn’t even taste that bad.”

 Anne looked to Marcy as she plopped the bean in her mouth. Marcy, who’d been unfortunate enough to get four terrible-tasting jelly beans in a row. She smiled as an idea formed in her brain.

 “Hey Mar-Mar,” Anne said, voice slightly muffled with her mouth full.

 Marcy looked up, and didn’t even have time to react before Anne pulled her in for a surprise kiss. Marcy’s face lit up as she felt Anne’s tongue push past her lips, too stunned by the audacity to offer any sort of resistance. Anne pulled away after a few seconds, and Marcy felt a familiar lump in her mouth.

 “Oh my God!” Sasha laughed, a splash of red on her own cheeks as she brought a closed fist to her mouth. “Did you really just…? You  didn’t! ”

 “Yeah, I totally did,” Anne said proudly, blushing herself. “Well Marcy? What’s the verdict?”

 Marcy’s face was burning as she slowly chewed, a pleasant taste spreading across her taste buds. “Berry…”

[fruitcoops]

I love reading all your works and they put a smile on my face everytime I see them. Is there any chance you could do a whole Lupin family truth or drink (with or without Sirius is cool too) thanks

Hello anon! Thank you for your kind words--they mean more than you know <3 Jules isn’t included here because he’s 10 and the questions are not suited for 10-year-olds, but this was so much fun to write all the same! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for alcohol and mentions of sex

“We’re back!” Marlene announced with a smile as she set up an unlabeled bottle on the table, along with three shot glasses. “And today, we’re doing something a little different with truth or drink. Loops, do you want to do the intros?”

Remus waved at the camera. “Hey, Lions, I’m Remus Lupin and these are my parents, Hope and Lyall.” He frowned and looked over at Marlene. “You toned down the questions, right? These are PG?”

“Nope!” she said cheerfully as she took her place behind the camera. “Take it away, Hope, it’s good to have you back!”

“It’s good to be back!” she said, smiling. “I had so much fun last time. Alright, Loops, describe your first kiss.”

He shook his head with a laugh. “It’s so weird hearing you call me that. Uh, I was seventeen and I kissed Ellie Sanders from down the street during her birthday party for a game of truth or dare.”

“Seventeen? I was expecting earlier, to be honest,” Lyall said as he took a card. “Hope, darling, have you ever been arrested?”

She reached for her shot glass and Remus’ jaw fell open. “What?”

“Well, I guess I have to answer it now,” she sighed. “Sweetheart, I grew up in the seventies and eighties, and your father and I met during a protest. This should not surprise you.”

“We can drink at any time, right?” Remus asked Marlene before taking a shot and drawing a card. “I could answer this one. Was I an accident?”

“Yes,” the three of them said at the same time.

“I was 21, he was 23, we had been married for three months and were not planning on having kids for at least six years,” Hope explained. She reached over and took Remus’ hand. “But you were the best accident. Okay, my turn. Have you ever had sex in my house?”

“I knew that kind of question was coming up,” Remus muttered. “No, I have not, and I don’t plan on ever doing it. My childhood bedroom is literally the least sexy place I can think of.”

“I don’t know, those plaid sheets and wall-to-wall bookshelves are really something, “ Lyall teased as he took a card. Remus rolled his eyes. “In a similar vein: when did you lose your virginity, and did you use protection?”

“Again, I was seventeen, and I did use protection because I knew I was gay at that point and didn’t want to risk anything.” Remus ran a hand down his face. “Ugh, this was not how I thought my day was going to go.”

“Was it the same night as your first kiss?” Hope gasped when he nodded. “Look at you go!”

“Oh my god, mom.” Remus picked a new card. “Ha! This should be interesting. Who’s your favorite child? Both of you have to answer.”

Hope drummed her fingers on her knees and Lyall bit his lip. “I love you for different reasons,” he finally said. “Jules is more cuddly and outgoing than you, but you actually have an off-switch and you’re a very kind person. Yeah, it’s an even split.”

“I can’t choose,” Hope said, tapping the edge of her card on the table. “You’re my boys and I love you. That’s all that matters. Have you ever been in love?”

“Yes, I have.” A soft smile tilted the edge of Remus’ lips up and he glanced behind the camera.

“Who are you looking at?” Marlene asked. “The viewers can’t see back here.”

“Oh! Sorry. My fiancé is on a bench by the wall with the car keys.” All three of them waved to Sirius. “Alright, dad, you’re up.”

“Which parent do you like more?” He mock-frowned at Remus. “I hope you know our future relationship directly depends on your answer to this single question from a drinking game on a Wednesday afternoon.”

“Just for that, I’m choosing mom,” Remus said, laughing when Lyall cuffed him lightly on the shoulder. ��In all honesty, I don’t have a favorite. Like you said earlier, I love you both for different reasons.”

“What reasons?” Hope asked.

“Dad, you taught me to cook and got me into hockey, but mom encouraged me to stick with PT and always goes the extra mile.” He rolled his shot glass between his fingers for a moment. “I just know that I’m really lucky to have you both in my life, because you’ve been nothing but supportive.”

Hope dabbed at her eye with the sleeve of her sweater and Lyall took a deep breath. “Whew. Okay. Please ask something super awkward,” he said.

“I’ll do my best,” Remus laughed. His smile turned into a grimace when he read the card and he rested his forehead on the table.

Hope nudged him with her elbow. “What, are you going to chicken out this late in the game? We don’t raise wusses in the Lupin family.”

“You have to ask it,” Marlene called.

Remus sat up and shook his shoulders out. “Dad, have you—I am begging you to drink—have you ever performed oral sex on mom?”

“Performed?” Lyall snorted. “What is this, the circus?”

Remus handed him the bottle. “Please drink.”

Lyall poured himself a shot and drank it; just as Remus was starting to look mildly relieved again, he grinned. “Yes, I have.”

“Damn it.” Remus covered his face with his hands. “I should have known you would answer anyway. Jesus. I need to sear that from my brain.”

Hope took her next card and slid the bottle to Remus. “What’s your favorite sexual position? I really don’t need to know this, sweetheart.”

“No, you certainly do not!” Remus said brightly, drinking his shot. “In fact, I’m glad you don’t want to.”

Lyall cleared his throat and took a card. “What’s something I do that embarrasses you?”

“This game is rigged to give all the loaded questions to you,” Remus laughed. “You need to figure out what you want for gifts. You always say you want nothing, and then the day after Christmas you’re pining after something you never told people you wanted.”

“I do not,” Lyall scoffed. Remus and Hope shared a look and his eyes widened. “Hey!”

“Okay, my turn.” Remus’ eyebrows rose when he read the card. “When I moved out, were you relieved or sad?”

“Oh, shit,” Hope murmured with a sniffle. “I’m already crying. Both. There was a little bit of both.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The first move only happened for a little while when you went to college, but you moved back after the accident and that was…tough.”

“It was easy letting you go the first time,” Lyall said, softer than he had been yet. “You were ready then. The second time, we were so worried and also so proud of you for everything you had worked for.”

Remus scrunched his nose up and let out a shaky breath, leaning their temples together. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Hope whispered. Lyall ruffled his hair. She coughed lightly and took a new card. “Please be something uncomfortably sexual. Ah, bummer. If someone offered you $10,000 dollars to never talk to me again, would you do it?”

Remus snorted. “No.”

“What about $100,000?”

“Nope.”

“A million?”

“Is this an auction?”

“If someone gave you ten million dollars to never speak to me again, would you take it?”

“Holy shit, mom!” he laughed. “Do you want me to stop talking to you? Is this a hint?”

“We did good,” she said, giving her husband a high-five.

Remus narrowed his eyes. “Would you guys stop talking to me for ten million dollars?”

“No, never,” Lyall assured him before turning and winking at the camera. Remus groaned. “Our minds have traded bodies—“

“They have? That explains a lot.”

“Shush. If our minds traded bodies, what is the first thing you would do in my body?”

“No offense, but I would run as far away from mom as humanly possible. We are not having any Oedipus moments in this household. The second thing I would do is reach things on the high shelves of my house, because even though I’m five foot eleven, my six foot three fiancé insists on putting things just slightly out of reach.” Remus craned his neck to see behind the camera. “Yes, I’m talking about you. Stop laughing!”

“You don’t think the aforementioned fiancé would be curious as to why your dad was suddenly on the front doorstep?”

“I would hope you would explain what was going on when you woke up in my body.” When Lyall didn’t answer, Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dad. If we switch bodies, I need you to promise me you won’t sleep with my fiancé.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“You’re not even into men!”

“How do you know?” He burst out laughing at Remus’ shocked expression. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. The first thing I would do is go skating, because I bet your knees don’t hurt after ten minutes. Then I would go to the dentist, because I know you’re bad about scheduling your appointments.”

“He’s right!” A distant voice called.

Remus gave Marlene a disbelieving look as he drew a card. “Is this turning into Remus Lupin Callout Hour? Alright, if you could change one thing about me, what would it be?”

“Scheduling skills,” Lyall answered immediately.

“Answering phone calls,” Hope added.

Remus seemed surprised by her answer. “You told Sirius you didn’t like it when he got into fights on the ice. I was expecting the same here.”

She shrugged. “It’s kind of neat, seeing my kid get in a rumble out there. I’m very proud of you. Less proud when you start bleeding, but that’s only because you have a very nice nose and straight teeth.”

“You heard it here first, folks,” Remus said to the camera. “My mother worries more about my nose and my teeth that the fact that I’m getting beaten up.”

“I think that’s the last question,” Marlene said with a laugh. “How are you all feeling?”

“I feel fantastic,” Lyall answered.

“I know far too much about my parents’ sex life.”

“It was one question,” Hope scoffed. “I feel wonderful, for your information. These are always such fun.”

“Should we ask Jules to come next time?” Marlene asked.

“Seeing as he’s ten and knows way too many embarrassing stories about me, absolutely not,” Remus said.

“We could give him apple juice, he’d have a good time,” Hope shrugged. “I would not oppose it.”

“You’re famous now, Loops.” Lyall grinned. “The tabloids would love having your baby brother as a gold mine of information.”

“Can I sign us off?” he asked Marlene. “Please tell me I can sign us off. I need to leave, like, five minutes ago.”

“You’re depriving me of content, Re!”

“Hey, hockey fans, thanks for tuning in to Lion Pride’s Truth or Drink! I’m Remus Lupin, these are my parents, and we hope you have a great day.”

[fandom-puff]

Involved

Pairing: no pairing  Requested by:  anon Prompts: // Summary: Being the littlest sister is often the best thing in the world. But sometimes, YN Shelby wants nothing more than to be involved with her older siblings... AN: Okay, so this is only my second shelby sister fic, so it might not be brilliant. If you’re looking for amazing shelby sis fics, I’d definitely recommend @theshelbyclan​ <3 Also, Finn is about 13/14 in this, and the reader is about 7/8. as usual, gif creds to owner Warnings: swearing, violence 

Being the baby of the family was both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, your brothers and sister doted on you, often slipping you sweets and lollies when Pol said you couldn’t have them. They were fiercely protective of you, and no one could make Tommy, Arthur and John smile and laugh like you could. You loved when Arthur would let you sit on his shoulders (especially good when they took you to fairs, as you were too short to see over the crowds), when Tommy sat and read to you, when John played chase. 

But lately, all they spoke about was business and men with strange names like Solomons and Sabini. Even Finn, who was closest to you in age, was starting to spend more time with the older brothers and less time with you. 

“Tommy?” you asked across the table as you munched on your toast. Tommy didn’t look up from his stack of paperwork. You frowned. “Tommy?” you said a little louder. 

“What, YN?” he said, a sharp edge in his voice that he never used with you (even when you had accidentally used a very important document to draw on). Your lower lip wobbled slightly and you ran off, your chair toppling over. Tommy rolled his eyes. He really had no time for your tantrums, not today at least. 

You carried on running until you reached John’s house. You knocked on the door. “YN, what’s up, love?” John asked, although he seemed very distracted. 

“Please can I play with Katie, John?” you asked. John smiled sadly and ruffled your hair. 

“Afraid not, YNN,” he said gently. “She wasn’t feeling very well last night. She’s stuck in bed today. I thought Tom was looking after you,” 

“He was. But he’s doing business. I got bored and was gonna ask if I could go and play, but he snapped at me before I could ask so I just thought I would leave him alone while he’s busy, ‘cos I don’t want him to be cross with me,” you looked at your feet. Although Tommy snapping and doing business was nothing new, John could see that it had upset you. 

“Go home, YN,” he said softly, squatting down until you were eye level. “Katie will be better in a day or two, I’ll send her down to play when she is, alright? In the meantime, Finn will be back soon. Maybe you could convince him and Isaiah to get up to mischief, eh?” 

Feeling a little better, you nodded, throwing your arms around John’s neck briefly. “Okay! See you in a bit, John. Tell Katie I said to get better quick!” you tore off into a sprint back home, excited by the prospect of hanging around with Finn and Isaiah. John shook his head fondly and went back inside. 

You burst through the front door, calling for Finn. He poked his head round the kitchen door and grinned at you. “C’mon, YN,” he grinned, dragging Isaiah behind him. “Let’s go somewhere fun, away from that grump in there,” he murmured the last bit so Tommy wouldn’t hear him. 

You were more than happy to follow along, eager to not be on the receiving end of tommy’s temper. You chattered happily to the boys (and learned a new swear word from them which you had to promise not to repeat in front of aunt pol) as you sauntered to the old warehouse which had been converted to a boxing ring. You hung away from the door, shuffling your feet slightly. “Tommy says I’m not allowed to go boxing,” you told them. 

“Tommy ain’t here though, YN,” Isaiah said, nudging your shoulder. 

“Yeah. I’m in charge of you, and I say it’s okay,” Finn said, puffing his chest out importantly. You giggled and nodded. 

“Alright then,” you said, grinning. 

You let them take you in. A few people murmured about the presence of a little girl in this predominantly male run backstreet boxing ring, but soon shut up when they saw that you were a Shelby. You sat at the edge of the ring as Finn and Isaiah began boxing with eachother. They let you play as the referee, purposefully making cheap shots to get told off, trying not to burst out laughing at the sound of your firm, yet higher pitched voice as you tried to do your best Aunt Polly impression. 

There was a sudden commotion at the other side of the warehouse, and everyone froze. 

“He’s lost it again!” you heard someone shout out, and you frowned, looking between Finn and Isaiah as they exchanged worried looks. 

“Arthur, pack it in! Arthur! Get off him!” 

you gasped, knowing in your gut that they were talking about your big brother. While you didn’t really understand what your brothers did for a living, you often saw the end results, asking questions about the black eyes and cuts they had on their faces. 

“Get her home, Shelby. She don’t need to see this,” one man said to Finn and he nodded. 

“Er... come on, YN... we’ll stop by the bakery on the way back,” Finn said, though you noticed the wobble in his voice. As you were walked away, you turned to see Arthur, his trembling hands stained red, a glazed look in his eyes as the boy’s body was dragged away. 

***

“Tommy, Arthur’s lost it again, down the warehouse!” Finn called as you slipped into the house. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Tommy groaned. “I swear to god, Finn, if I find out you’ve taken YN to that fucking boxing ring again, I’ll skin you,” 

The door slammed shut and your lip wobbled. “What’s this about YN going to the boxing ring?” came the sharp voice of Polly. You tucked your knees up to your chest, resting your chin on them. “Finn Shelby, if you’ve let your little sister box with you lot-” you wrapped your arms around Polly’s waist, hiding your face. She soon felt tears soaking through her blouse and sighed softly, stroking your hair. “What’s happened, love?” she said soothingly. “Aunt Pol’s listening,” 

You looked up at her and bit your lip slightly. “I-I wanted to go and play with Katie so Tommy wouldn’t be cross at me while he was working, but John said she wasn’t well, so I came home, and- and Finn and isaiah said we could go to the boxing ring ‘cos Finn was in charge not Tommy, and I just wanted to play referees with them b-but...” a fresh load of tears rolled down your cheeks. “But... but then everyone started shouting, saying Arthur had lost it again, a-and when we were leaving, I saw him... but he didn’t look like arthur, Aunt Pol,” You shook your head as if trying to shake away the memory. “His eyes were weird and... and he was all bloody,” 

Polly said nothing, instead drawing you into her chest and letting you cry, stroking your hair and rubbing your back. Once you had calmed down, she held you at arms length. “Sometimes, YN, the boys get very upset, and very angry about what happened to them in France. They can’t help it. It creeps up on them when they least expect it. But you mustn’t be frightened of it, alright? They are still your brothers and they all love you very dearly, d’you understand me?” 

You nodded quickly. “I’m not scared, Aunt Pol. Not even of Tommy when he’s cross with me. Not even of Arthur when he’s cross with himself,” you said. Polly smiled slightly and kissed you on the forehead. 

“Good girl, c’mon, put your cardigan on. You can come to the market with me while the boys sort themselves out,” 

*** 

That night, when everyone had gone to sleep, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling. You should’ve been asleep ages ago, but you didn’t care. Silent as a mouse, you crept out of the room that you used to share with Ada before she went to London, careful not to tread on the squeaky floorboards. You stopped outside your oldest brother’s bedroom and eased the door open so it didn’t creak and startle him. 

Arthur wasn’t asleep either. his back was to you, but you could see his shoulders shaking slightly as he cried, his fist shoved in his mouth to keep quiet. “Arthur?” you whispered. He turned around, shoving the tears off his face. 

“YN, what’re you doing out of bed, eh? It’s a bit late,” he said. You walked over to him and clambered into his bed despite him saying he was okay. “You’re not frightened of me, YN? You... you saw what happened today, love, didn’t you? Why aren’t you scared?” 

you snuggled into his side and squeezed his hand. “’Cos you’re my big brother, Arthur, that’s why,” you whispered, though your voice had a no-nonsense tone to it. “You’re my big brother and I love you and even if you really tried, not even you or Tommy could scare me, not ever,” you insisted and Arthur’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, hugging you. 

“You’re a stubborn girl, our YN,” he said fondly. “You’re gonna give us all a run for our money when you’re older,” 

You smiled, glad you had made him feel better. “C’mon. You need to go to sleep, otherwise Aunt Polly will tell us off. She’s the only one who can scare me, Arthur, but only when I’m in trouble,” 

Arthur laughed and you shushed him, settling down to sleep (and totally hogging most of the blankets. perks of being the little sister). “Alright, alright, I’ll go to sleep before aunt pol shouts at a grown man that it’s past his bedtime,” 

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