#i feel bad for anyone who will be furloughed

[mutopians]

for a party that sure loves to pretend this country is full of only christians, republicans sure are excited to give the country a government shutdown as a christmas present

[pommunist]

Also the way they all got summarily kicked out just felt like him lashing out and punishing the workers for Léa's whistleblowing and the fans for daring to get outraged

Like "oh you think the actors should get paid for acting? Well now we're gonna have no actors at all! And they might never come back if we can't afford them! There! Are you happy now??"

Admittedly this is a very bad faith interpretation of something that could just be a simple over-correction out of panic, but like... furloughing your workers for an indefinite time without a warning is not a reasonable move actually!

Especially when you as their employer also refuse to even talk to them

It just comes across as a punishment for speaking up

Nobody treats anyone they actually respect like this, this is how people treat misbehaving dogs

And then when the workers understandably get tired of this bs and leave, he just kinda goes that's totally fine if they want to leave of their own free will! :D (yeah I'm sure it's fine with you...)

Sorry to all the Quackity fans, it's just that the more I think about this the worse it feels, even if it wasn't his conscious intent

- 🐧

Like if we’re going with what we are told which is : Q didn’t know anything about it and his trust was abused by some higher admins. Then shouldn’t people THANK Lea and everyone who spoke up for being able to put an end to this situation ?

Shouldn’t Q and the remaining non-assholes higher up’s first reflex be to get in contact with the whistleblower to understand what exactly they went through, because of who, etc ? How do you fix a problem if you won’t ask the victims what the problem is ?

And yeah genuinely the « Thanks everyone for the free work for months ! actually we may not be able to afford you guys so please put your life on hold a little more we MAY tell you whether u still have a job or not one day ! » vibe is so terrible. Like while we don’t know everyone’s exact age, the admins seem to be relatively young, like you’ve ask free labor from 20-something yo fans who could have used their time and energy studying, getting actual money from another job or just doing whatever they wanted instead.

Not even a Thank you or a Sorry in his last statement after Pomme and Dapper quit. Just something like « Some people have and will leave the project it’s ok it’s how it is » NOT IN THESE CONDITIONS ??? This is what you say when someone quits because they want to explore something new not because they are burnt out and ignored 🗣️🗣️🗣️

[sapphire-weapon]

About Leons undone laundry and empty whiskey bottles, I'd actually love for you to break it down and hear more headcanons about how his mental health physically manifests. I don't think it gets Depression Room bad (because he moves around so much for work... does this boy even HAVE a permanent address?). Other than the whole furlough thing, which is the first time OG really considered how awful he's doing. What did his private life look like during that debacle? But he's for sure messy when he's comfortable alone. And I actually adore that human aspect headcanon. 😅 Messy, reworn clothes? For sure. I think he treasures his leather jackets though! Because they're something that he can actually OWN. He has to change into work appropriate clothes practically all of the time, but the jackets? All him. Always clean and in mint condition.

I've sort of been under the impression that Leon is one of those guys who technically only "works" a few months out of the year -- and I say that because of the way his skills seem to be used/the way he gets "deployed."

Infinite Darkness was what really solidified that for me, because like -- if there was any piece of RE media that was going to show Leon actually having a physical office, it was going to be ID. He doesn't have that, but he does seem to need to be within arm's length of the White House at any given moment. So, I'm sure that he owns a house that's within 10-15 minutes driving distance from the WH -- but I also think that the inside of it is kind of unsettling and bizarre LOL

Like, Leon definitely makes six figures, but he gets free health insurance through the government, he's never been married, doesn't have kids, and hasn't had a serious girlfriend since high school, probably. He has so much money and nothing to spend it on. So, the interior of his house is bougie as fuck

but

it looks like he's squatting in it.

Like, someone is definitely living in this house, as evidenced by the fact that there's dishes in the sink to be washed, and there's a jacket or two hung up beside the front door, and the cushions on the couch are slightly out of place, and there's a random hoodie draped over one of the chairs at the kitchen table, and things like that. But the decor is so completely depersonalized that there's absolutely no hint of who this person could possibly be. There are no photos on the walls, nothing stuck to the fridge, no actual art pieces to speak of. His house looks like it was lifted right out of a homestyle magazine, and he's just living in between the pages of it.

I think the only reason why his house doesn't get Depression Room bad is because he never goes anywhere and lives a mostly minimalist lifestyle. His interior design is on point, but he doesn't own a whole lot to make a mess with in the first place, and he never finds himself in any position to amass random things here and there to just be tossed aside and forgotten about. The walk-in closet in his bedroom is a fucking mess, but that's a mess he keeps contained to just the closet.

But I'm sure he's taken girls back to his place and their reactions have been: "... Are you sure you live here? Are you sure anyone lives here?" Because his house feels like a liminal space -- because, in some ways, that's what it is.

So, I think Leon's depression mostly manifests as him forgetting that he hasn't actually left his house in a week because he has a home gym -- so where else would he even go? He gets stuck on Netflix binges and weird documentary rabbit holes and suddenly he realizes he hasn't actually used his voice in like three days.

He has to go out of his way to physically remind himself to leave the house and go interact with other humans -- and once he does that, he starts to see how bad he let the depression get for a period of time. Fandom disagrees with me despite the fact that I'm objectively right, but Leon is extroverted in nature; being around other people makes him feel better. But his job/lifestyle forces him into a state of isolation, so it's easy for him to forget that.

[littleeyesofpallas]

Why are Viz translations so... (dramatic pause)... bad? Like some mistakes are understandable but they consistently mess up even the simplest of things.

I once heard that they have a policy to be different from fanscans, even if the fanscans are correct and they have to make things up.

Oh I can't possibly confirm anything about that with any kind of actual authority. But given the way some general writing and editing and translating and even just comic specific jobs that I'm slightly (and really only s l i g h t l y) more familiar with have worked historically, I've got my guesses...

Mainly, I've always just assumed that the core problem would be that they very likely have no in-house translators and just hire on contract work; meaning that effectively every time a new volume needs translating, they don't just call up The Bleach Guy or something, they reach into their bag of underpaid non-"employee" contacts and hand them the text to be translated, possibly even on a single chapter basis with multiples working in tandem to meet deadlines.

It's a gig economy problem that has been plaguing the publishing business for decades. If you only work on contract, each new contract stipulates the precise terms of what work you do and on what terms you get paid for it, usually in writing that's by word, or perhaps by page, but basically never by hour or salaried. By rotating out contract workers publishers avoid having to pay benefits, have the luxury of not renewing a contract, or not offering a new contract, instead of having to "fire" writers --you can just not pay a contractor if you don't have work for them for months with no sort of furlough or promise of job security; a way better deal for cheapskate employers who don't care if the people they hire can eat or pay rent-- and in general it just allows employers to not treat the people doing the work as real employees, not just interpersonally but in the eyes of the law.

But as for the quality of work, it would mean that anyone working on any particular chapter would have no direct contact with anyone who worked on previous chapters, or even concurrent ones, so there'd be no way to confer on terminology or style choices unless they were actually given notes by editorial, or went out of their way on their own to look at existing material for reference. Which would explain why things like the Resurreccion have no consistent style about what goes into parenthesis or not, or whether the Japanese or the Spanish get the secondary translation, etc...

Someone did mention on one of my posts that they'd heard translators were encouraged to avoid matching fantranslations word for word (it may even have been you who said it) which I can't say for certain if that's true, or if it's an official mandate or just a translator's rule of thumb. It feels somewhat unlikely that editors would make such a specific move to actually solicit and cross reference fanscans as quality assurance. On the one hand I can imagine an editor might not want it to look like they're stealing from or otherwise validating the work of fan translators, but I can't imagine someone integrating the regular process of checking for plagiarism from specific fan sources into their work without just sicking legal on them instead. But I could also see it just being a translator's tactic of avoiding being caught if they were basically a fraud who was just handing in loosely rewritten copies of fan translations for a free paycheck.

[EDIT]: oh and in addition, I also assume these jobs are submitted as isolated word documents. As in, whether the translator gets a copy of the japanese manga or just word document with all the text in question transcribed by someone else, they submit their work as a word document with minor notes clarifying page and panel, which a typesetter and/or graphic designer(those could just as easily be separate people or the same person: paying one person to do both would be cheaper, but it may be easier to find (and to underpay...) one typersetter who can't redraw and photoedit, and one graphic designer who can, than to find one person qualified to do both.) references in retyping everything, splitting text up between word bubbles, choosing fonts, and formatting weird things like parenthetical in the case of stuff like resurreccion and bankai and all that. So while it'd be a less direct cause of error, it would add extra opportunities for miscommunication and general screw ups.

Again though, I really can't emphasize it enough: I don't have a professional/insider perspective on this as far as Viz Media specifically is concerned.

[noveltysensegallery]

Master Class in Ruthlessness

COVID-19 Pandemic Edition: Do you have what it takes to be a ruthless landlord in Alabama?

Photo by Morning Brew on Unsplash

It's Just Business

Covid-19 rages across the nation, destroying jobs, damaging lives and even killing thousands. But you are about to be a landlord in Alabama; these facts don't apply to landlords in Alabama. The law is on your side...but are you on your side? Laws can't protect the weak! Take this quiz to see if you have the heart of a ruthless Alabama landlord.

1. It’s May 1st 2020 and a few of your tenants have not paid rent. They just have some sob story about losing their job as a waitress, a car salesperson and a chef. You call your lawyer who is on speed dial and she advises you that evictions will not be enforced until June 1st, 2020 due to a Proclamation by Governor Ivey. Do you?

a. Begin your unlawful eviction process anyway, proclaiming “I am the law!!”

b. File an eviction with the court and then countdown until June 1st to rush the court while harassing your tenants every step of the way and sometimes even your lawyer.

c. Compassionately work out a plan so that on June 1st you do not have to follow through with an eviction because it would be just horrible if thousands or even millions roamed the streets unhoused while a contagious virus spreads like wildfire.

2. You overheard somewhere about something in the Federal CARES Act protecting tenants who live in federally backed mortgages until July 25, 2020. Do you?

a. Think… ‘interesting’ and forget that you in fact have a mortgage that is federally backed and then proceed with eviction not realizing that it will be a futile endeavor.

b. Seek federal assistance, hide this information from your tenants and harass them until they leave. “I’m not passing on any favors!”

c. Disclose this valuable information to your grateful and relieved tenants. Then work out a plan so that on July 25, 2020 there is no need to proceed with eviction.

3. You have a tenant who is an elderly woman who is behind on her rent due to a mix up on her social security benefits. Due to the pandemic, it is difficult for her to reach anyone. Do you?

a. Feel victimized. This was supposed to be your retirement income. How will your travel fund ever grow? At this rate you’ll never make it to Italy.

b. Refuse to do necessary maintenance on her unit.

c. Show empathy since we are in the midst of a pandemic. You are well-known in the area and you have a lawyer. Perhaps these tools can be utilized to help her get connected.

4. Your tenant has congestive heart failure now owes $1550 in back rent. Do you?

a. Become consumed with worry about the economic future of your family and yourself.

b. Send a rude letter stating that rent is due and threaten immediate eviction.

c. Work with tenants who are especially vulnerable to the pandemic and look for outside resources to refer them to. Landlords are powerful in Alabama, so you can use your power to vouch for your tenants to overwhelmed non-profits who appreciate your input.

5. On what date did the Governor's Proclamation begin, which protected tenants from the enforcement of an eviction?

a. What Proclamation? Do you mean the date my letter states that my tenants will be evicted?

b. Doesn’t matter, I already have my order in place.

c. Order became effective 5p.m., Saturday on April 4th, 2020.

6. How many cases of Covid-19 has Alabama added on July 9, 2020?

a. Covid-19 doesn’t exist; it’s a hoax.

b. It’s only bad in New York, probably less than 100.

c. 1,304 cases were added on July 9, 2020 and deaths rose by 35.

7. After being furloughed as a flight attendant, your tenant Ruthie is stressed, hungry and limited on funds, which bill or cost should she prioritize first?

a. Credit Cards

b. Food

c. My Rent!

8. Why won’t your tenant pay rent?

a. Your tenants are withholding their stimulus check.

b. Your tenants received generous unemployment benefits but are too irresponsible to pay rent.

c. They lost their job due to the shelter-in-place order and the stimulus from the federal government haven’t arrived. In addition the unemployment office is too backlogged to process their claim.

9. When you read the Proclamation by Governor Ivey concerning evictions, what was the main message you gathered?

a. I can still file for an eviction.

b. Rent is due.

c. “All state, county and local law enforcement officers are hereby by directed to cease enforcement of any order that would result in the displacement of a person from his or her place of residence.”

10. It’s July 4th, what do you think of when you go to the Kroger grocery store and see steak?

a. You don’t see the steak. You ruminate over that one tenant who was too savvy to succumb to your self-help eviction. One day you’ll get them...out...one day...

b. You think, “They can have their rent for free and that’s nice but I can't go over to Kroger and start buying a steak and say oh by the way put it on the tab when this things over I’ll pay you as soon as my tenants pay.”

c. Happy, can’t wait to get this on the grill.

Results:

Mostly A's and B's: Excellent! You have what it takes to be a landlord in Alabama even if you have to pry that check from their cold, dead and Covid-19 riddled hands.

Mostly C's: Why did you even take the quiz? I'm surprise you didn't start weeping at the thought of collecting rent. Landlords in Alabama collect rent no matter what! Take your compassion and move on! Compassion can't pay for that Kroger steak!

Sources:

AL.COM: 1,304 new coronavirus cases in Alabama since yesterday; Deaths jump by 35, article published July 10, 2020.

ABC3340 NEWS: Alabama stay-at-home order prohibits evictions & foreclosures during COVID-19 crisis, article published April 3, 2020.

AL.COM: Some Alabama counties evicting tenants in pandemic, article published May, 2020.

AL.COM: Some Alabama counties resume evictions for unpaid rent, article published June 6, 2020.

FOX10: Evictions are back – but in Mobile County, at least, pace falls short of pre-pandemic levels, article published June 25, 2020.

The Office of Alabama Governor: State of Alabama Proclamation by the Governor, proclamation published April 3, 2020.

WAFF48: Evictions possible again after governor’s order is lifted, article published June 10, 2020.

WHNT News19: Alabama ban on eviction set-outs expired, article published June 8, 2020.

WHNT News19: UPDATE: Gov. Kay Ivey issues ban on evictions for the entire state, but rent is still due, article published April 3, 2020.

WSFA12 News: Lawyer says some Alabama landlords violate order, try to evict tenants, article published April 8, 2020.

© 2024 Proudly Produced by Novelty Sense Gallery. All Rights Reserved.

[mitigatingacademics]

{12.25.23}

Merry Christmas, friends. 🎄

This year truly reminded me why I enjoy working the holidays.

Despite baking copious cookies, offering up Party Perks full of slow cooker hot cocoa (they're not made for that...have you ever tried to clean one after it's been used for something it's not made for? 🤦🏻‍♀️🤣) and dressing like an elf for the past four Christmas Eves, it's been hit and miss.

In 2020 we only had two trains and half the crews due to Covid furloughs. Last year we were blasted by winter weather so severe that I came back from my annual December vacation (for baking) to 3 nights without trains and finally, at least, 2 on Christmas Eve.

Last year's (workplace) Christmas was even harder than 2020's, to be honest. With the Covid cuts we knew what to expect. Fav co-worker was at a down-line station and we sent each other gifts on the train. One of my favorite Conductors was furloughed -- I actually took her gift to her house and got to see her extensive Christmas village set-up and gorgeous real tree. We adjusted.

Last year's arctic blast was unanticipated (at least beyond a few days out) and we were left, more or less, with our hands tied as to options and little else to do but apologize and feel bad.

To put it into perspective -- this year's company official ugly sweater says 'Getting You Home For The Holidays' ...which is exactly what we were NOT doing last year. 😔

This year, fully staffed and 60 degrees (which I admit I also complained about a bit, but...less -- the sweet spot is, failing a dusting of our own, being able to chisel a piece of a white Christmas off the New York train and hold it in your hand -- I'm not kidding, see below from my first Christmas at this station 😂 ) spirits were festive and good times were had.

It felt right and I'm very grateful.

White Christmas 2018 be like:

Favorite and most meaningful gifts this year include:

From Mom (selected by me).

I also received two books by Rachel Maddow and a whole-ass desk situation (I've needed a desk for so long, I can't wait to get everything put together and arranged!).

When Jamie's book arrived:

Mom: Who is Jamie Raskin?

Me: He's a Congressional Representative from Maryland. ... He was on the J6 Committee.

Mom: Of course he was. 🤦🏻‍♀️

Me: He's also an incredibly intelligent and articulate professor of Constitutional Law? 🤷🏻‍♀️😂

Dad gave generously in the form of gift cards, several of which are for Amazon and will undoubtedly go towards more books.

You can never have too many books. 📚

From fav co-worker.

I'm no longer holding a (selfish and inappropriate) grudge against her for bidding off the regular that had us working together 3 nights a week. She had her reasons and, as I told her the first time she brought it up (though it took a hot second to get over myself and actually mean it 🤦🏻‍♀️😂); I hope it helps in the way she thinks it will.

Even when we're not working together multiple nights a week, she still knows me better than just about anyone these days. These items are just a few from a huge bag of individually wrapped thoughtfulness.

I love Harry Potter in Dutch more than I could possibly explain.

Once I get through the Feb. LSAT (decided we're sticking with that one, for better or worse -- last night and tonight are the first nights since my last real post that I haven't spent at least an hour with Brad Barbary 😂), I want to get back to practicing Dutch (and French) for more than just keeping my Duolingo streak alive.

Inspiring Women Fisher-Price Little People edition is equally amazing. I'd never even seen this set (and I love it!) but also, I now have a 'collection' of these items so the next time Amazon tries to sell me the Sanderson Sisters or Golden Girls I don't have to worry about starting yet another collection. ...it was done for me! 🤣

It goes without saying that Sweet Liz telling the world, in a best-selling memoir which will undoubtedly be instrumental in the way that she's remembered far into the future, that the GOP is led by morons, is one of the greatest gifts I've ever been given.

Beyond my unending appreciation for the commendable sass with which Liz so articulately expresses herself, I am truly and seriously so grateful for the time and effort she put into not only the things that she's done, but the book she wrote about it.

I was asking for a book before its existence was announced, it had a great deal to live up to in my mind, anticipation aside, and it went above and beyond. Full review to follow (I'm almost done with my notes).

I have an incredibly blessed life and I am very grateful.

[grison-in-space]

Oh yeah. And I mean, the mangling is largely hidden behind closed doors, too, which lets everyone underestimate the extent of it; bad mentors can evade consequences for treating students poorly because most of the time, the badly maimed just leave and no one ever notices. Every department I've ever been in has at least one faculty member who treats students wildly differently according to gender, usually multiple, and no one ever really does anything or comments. And everything is so absurdly specific that it is hard to anonymize anything, so if you want to talk about anything you'd better be willing to sit by the consequences of your mistake. I came out of one of literally two labs in the past 40 years to work with the species I studied for my PhD, right? So when I said elsewhere in these notes that I am very conscious of the flimsy shield between my professional identity and anywhere I talk work in public, I meant it. I've been compartmentalizing so hard for so long, I just... can't do it anymore.

(COVID hit just as I was trying to get out the door and it made everything worse: funding opportunities I was setting myself up to apply for dried up overnight; everyone I'd been carefully angling for a postdoc with and vetting as a mentor just... stopped taking anyone on, because they were sheltering their current trainees; my own supervisor handled the pandemic... badly, and everything was just kind of shambling forward. I spent one month literally doing nothing but diss, showering, and sleeping; I was even working on the diss while I ate. And then I finished by my PI's insane deadline in the midst of a global disaster and he tried to impose another, less reasonable one with two weeks' notice, and I threw an enormous meltdown and won, like, a semester of reprieve.)

And then you have the increased general unpredictability of modern life, right? I had three years of climate change induced flooding and other housing instability during my PhD, on top of teaching every single long semester (so not summers but otherwise always) since my very first semester of the program. I've got the trauma left over from alt-right protests, campus violence, and state attempts to enforce wildly unpopular politics on the campus community. I have the scars from surviving the fucking sequesters of the past ten years; even here I've had to clarify several times, if we have another federal shutdown, can I as a postdoc still work or do I have to go unpaid and consider myself furloughed? Does that time apply to NIH deadlines past which I'm no longer eligible for funds to apply for? Can anyone fucking explain to me why postdoctoral fellows can't have their goddamn paychecks run through tax withholding like everyone else? And then you expect me to up and move interstate every couple of years? What is wrong with this system? What's not?

It's exhausting! I'm exhausted! And I see the people who aren't as exhausted, and by and large they are people who... well, they haven't had to survive as much, or they had crucial support to do it. Academia is so relational that managing who you know and how they feel about you is critical to career survival, which means that you have to reckon with all the potential backlashes to requesting accommodation and making a spectacle of yourself in the process. There's a reason I'm only deliberately making a positive choice about presenting myself as disabled right now, as a postdoc rather than a grad student, and bluntly it's that if my funding runs out right now I'm looking from WFH data management positions and sketching up book proposals. I don't have the resources to keep performing without letting the effort show anymore.

On top of that, I always wonder about the survivorship bias of the people who stick around. I have watched that kind of exhaustion and frustration absolutely poison people who started as people who wanted, desperately, to be better kinds of mentors. And neurodivergent burnout sure explains a lot about why mentorship can be so incredibly bad in this field: not all of it is just sheer exploitation/sexual pressure/we-eat-our-young narratives. A lot of the bizarre dynamics between students and supervisors are consequences of mentors who have survived burnout (and either have to value their careers accordingly, by sunk-cost fallacy, or are too burnt out to approach the work with interest and enthusiasm anymore) and are still expected to conduct very intensive mentorships lasting years with much younger people, no explicit training, and almost no supervision. In, let me add, a giant pressure cooker constantly simmering with the knowledge of how you have to keep winning without pausing.

Why are we surprised?

yesterday's talk to the neurodivergency activism program also included a fun "ethics in research on neurodivergence" panel conversation at the end when one person expressed this real frustration with the academy: that it's so unfriendly to neurodivergent people who can't navigate the social structures of academia, and it is so frustrating to this person to know that they want to go back to school and get the PhD but it's so unfriendly to neurodivergent people--

bear in mind, I'm the only openly neurodivergent researcher on the panel and by far the most junior (the others are all established faculty), plus I do animal research which is probably as far from the rather clinical focus of the folks in that program as humanly possible. and I've discussed openly how relational academia is, and how much it relies on the approval of your supervisors. we've even had a nice conversation about the same thing in clinical practice.

but I'm sitting here going... you know what, the interpersonal fuckery that almost ended my career actually was a result of blundering into another neurodivergent person's unacknowledged shame spiral, actually? you know that neurotypical research PIs are a distinct minority in my experience? you know that this is an incredibly dysfunctional institution, I ain't arguing that, but it's also one that has been by and large built for, by, and around neurodivergent people's needs and desires?

it's just they don't know it, so if you talk about it openly you get panic reactions. but it's so, so, so funny to see. (as I expanded on this theme the lady I liked best, a black woman working on intersections between developmental disabilities, race, and access to health care, is just grinning SO wide and almost giggling to herself.) you label yourself and people go OH NO A LABEL but if you know how to see the shape of the thing the label is supposed to describe, you can see that they oughta have a label, too.

so on the one hand, real consequences for being too open about yourself, but on the other hand, things actually have gotten so much better in the last 5-10 years. and on the gripping hand, just being in a space with only other neurodivergent people does not necessarily fix the problem of inadequate communication, hurt feelings, bad relationships with power, and weird insecurities. it just doesn't fix it. what works is understanding how to resolve conflicts, building structures that are less reliant on single dyadic relationships, and finding alternate ways to make connections with scholars in your field.

dammit, this means I should probably poke my bluesky again. fff.

[tenthgrove]

Yandere Bruno squad headcanons perhaps :0?

Yandere Team Buccelati

Content Warnings: Yandere behaviour, stalking, abduction

A/N: Apologies, but I've decided that I'm not really comfortable writing under 18s as yandere characters, so I'll just be doing Buccialati, Abbacchio and Mista for this one. Extra warning that this is really bad (I'm particularly not happy with Mista's section) because I wrote this late at night and didn't know what I was saying as I wrote it, so double apologies for that.

Bruno Buccelati

In spite of his occupation, Bruno has no qualms befriending the civilian population of Naples and doing good for them. He holds a profound pity for the victims of organised crime, and is eager to help where he can. So when you approach him on the street, asking for help with ridding yourself of a creepy stranger who had made it his business to follow and harass you, Bruno is quick to ensure your would-be stalker never looks your way again.

Although Bruno saw to it that you were escorted home safely, he can't help but feel some well-intentioned worry for your well-being over the coming days. He checks in on you again, which you find to be very sweet, but as the days pass by again his worry returns. Continuing to visit you would seem odd, he knows, but surely there's no harm in asking Narancia to check through your window once in a while?

At first it really is just concern for your safety, but after a while, Bruno is forced to accept that he is genuinely infatuated with you. His feelings are far too strong to simply sweep under the rug, and approaching you the normal way could put you in danger, provided it even works. He isn't going to kidnap you, that would leave him no better than the thugs he chases off of the streets, but to make you his he's going to resort to something unorthodox.

Bruno makes a few preparations. He does a few favours for your friends and family- gotta make sure they're on his side, He also checks his intel into the area's rival street gangs, since it can't hurt to have a hint of truth to the story he's going to tell. Then, armed with a few empty suitcases and a fake look of concern, he heads to your house late one night.

He announces to you that one of the rival gangs in the area has singled you out as a target for trafficking, and because of your previous interactions with him, they're dead set on taking you. Bruno assures you not to worry and helps you pack away your things, promising that you will be safe in his care while the issue with the gang is sorted out. You'll be staying in his house, of course. It's best he's right on call in case anyone tries to come after you.

Your new life in Bruno's house is a strange one. You cannot leave the house of course, except for the occasional short trip with him or his men to stop your mental health from suffering, but your internet access is unrestricted, you can call your family as much as you want, and you're allowed to buy anything you'd like with your money (or better, have him buy it for you). You have your own room, but Bruno often asks to come in and sit with you late at night. It's all for your comfort, of course.

After a couple of months, Bruno's excuses to keep you longer will start to run out as you start to wonder why he hasn't eliminated the street gang yet. The hope is that by this point, you would have already fallen for Bruno's charm and started to love him, but barring this, he'll simply buy more time by making up more reasons why it's unsafe for you to go home.

But, if all else fails, and you begin to insist on leaving... well, Bruno didn't want to do this, but he can't just let you go. You're locked in your room, windows barred as Bruno explains to you calmly that this is all for your own good. You can come out any time you want, Amore. All you have to do is promise to stay.

Leone Abbacchio

Despite his occasionally cold demeanour, Abbacchio is no stranger to the want for companionship and affection. In fact, it's fair to say he needs it, and that going so long without tenderness has left him empty, miserable and disillusioned. But it's only a matter of time before somebody reawakens his need for warmth.

Both of you were having a bad day. You were downtrodden and lamentful, and as sad people tend to do together, you shared your angsts together as you sat at the bus stop, neither of you caring that this was the first time you'd even seen each other.

Abbacchio does not want the conversation to end. So when the bus arrives, he gets a ticket to your stop instead, and sits with you, continuing to talk. He is sad when you say goodbye. He knows he needs to see you again. He thinks nothing of lingering to see which street you turn onto as you walk home.

Abbacchio gets to work right away. He needs to have you, but cannot see you ever falling for someone like him. Not through normal means instead. His thoughts turn to abduction, but the image of you begging and crying as he drags you to his car saddens him. He knows he could never hurt you that badly. He needs to find a half-way point, between force and natural love.

The first thing he does, once his mind is made up, is go to your boss. Using Passione's name, he quickly convinces them to fire you without any question as to why. It is a similar story with your landlord a few days later. Any friends or relatives who might take you in are also sent a warning phone-call.

You know full-well what has happened. You knew at the time your one-time companion on the bus was a mafioso, his story made that clear. You beat yourself up every minute for not avoiding him then and there. And now, as misfortune after misfortune strikes you, everyone who bears you bad news has the same white-haired stranger to speak of. When, on your first night on the streets, a tall figure approaches you from the black car, you do not feel any surprise.

Both you and Abbacchio know what he is here for, so he does not explain much. He sombrely instructs you to get in the car if you don't want to be stuck on the streets any longer, promising that he will not do you any harm if you comply. He has already struck out every other option for possibly helping yourself. You have little choice but to go with him.

You do not expect much when you arrive at Abbacchio's house, but instead you find all your old possessions lined up for you to decorate your room with. After quickly explaining where the bathroom is and which foods from the kitchen are free for taking, he goes to bed, advising that you do the same. You are completely, and utterly perplexed.

Abbacchio forces little conversation on you in the early weeks. Most of the time, he is out doing work, leaving you with free reign of his house. Soon, you do not feel at all as though you were forced to be here. You dare say your life is better here than it was before. Abbacchio's friends occasionally visit, making sure that Leone isn't mistreating you and you're fully happy here. Eventually, Abbacchio relents to letting you reopen communications with your friends. You cannot say you have anything to complain about.

The only question, is what Abbacchio ever wanted from you. It's so strange how he went to all these lengths to take you only to largely ignore you. The truth is, he's waiting for you to open up to him of your own free will. As he lies in bed alone at night, he dreams of you coming into his room, asking if he can hold you for a minute.

Mista

Guido Mista has dated a few times in the past, and he isn't interested in letting Passione stop him from continuing. It doesn't matter how you met him, just that after a few encounters you began to date, and were very happy with your new beau. You worked well together, what else is there to say?

But after your second date, Buccialati received word of your existence and was concerned. He isn't exactly going to force you to stop dating, Mista is an adult after all and can do as he pleases. But Buccelati wants to make sure you know what you're getting into.

Paying you a visit, Buccelati explains to you that your new boyfriend is involved with the mafia, and continuing to see him will involve certain risks. He is happy for you to take these risks, so long as you are aware of their existence. You thank him for him time, and immediately proceed to shut off all communication with Mista without explanation.

After a brief shouting match with Buccelati once Mista realises what he's done, he marches over to your house to plead with you to take him back. You stand your ground, that Mista lied to you and you refuse to be involved with criminals, but Mista isn't giving up.

The argument escalates. You slam the door in his face. Mista goes home and despairs. You were the best he's ever had, and now he's supposed to accept that you're just... gone?! No... all you need is a little more time. Mista turns right around and heads back to your house. This time, he isn't letting up for anything.

It goes much further than he intended. In a split-moment of instinct, Mista draws his gun and threatens you into letting him in. He really didn't mean to scare you like that, but his emotions are running high right now and he doesn't know how else to make you listen.

So, here you are now, a hostage in your own home, because your barely boyfriend couldn't let you go. In the ultimatum the two of you made after he threatened you, you ended up agreeing not to leave the house at all for the time since he was scared you'd try to run.

Mista doesn't stay with you all the time, but he visits you daily to bring you things and try to repair the relationship. To his credit, he hasn't threatened you at all since the initial incident and seems to regret it intently, but forgiving him is difficult after what he did.

Your commitments are mysteriously all taken care of, your boss inexplicably granting you a long period of furlough at full pay. Buccelati wasn't kidding when he said the group Mista was part of was powerful. You shudder to think of what else he could do.

[justoneofthoseghosts]

Not sure if you’re still doing these but Brettsey X Me - Protect Me - something where Matt is protective over Sylvie. Maybe this new Chief Hawkins is harassing her or giving her a hard time/putting her through her paces and she doesn’t want to tell Casey in case he flies off the handle.

A/N: Not exactly what was requested I think but it's the best I could do!

“So, how is Bend, Oregon?”

Matt laughs on the other end of the line, “small and very nature-y. I miss all the Chicago fumes.”

“Why am I not surprised you’d say that?” Sylvie teases. Matt thinks he can hear the smile in her voice and it makes him miss her even more.

“How are things at 51?” Matt asks, curiosity getting the best of him.

It’s been two days since he filed for furlough and took the next flight out to visit Griffin and Ben. It’s still early in the morning but the Chicago to Oregon jet lag/time change seems to be all too real. The boys are still sleeping as he pads over to the kitchen. He wedges his phone between his shoulder and ear as he makes a cup of coffee.

“Not too bad. Stella’s enjoying being the relief lieutenant. You should see her in action. She was born to do this,” Sylvie states proudly.

“There’s not questioning that. How about you? How’s ambo doing?” Matt inquires. He knows she had a rough call a few shifts ago and he hopes 61 hasn’t had to experience that again. Sylvie and Violet were some of the best paramedics in the business but even they were human and going through something like that is never ideal.

There’s silence for a moment on the other end of the line and Matt knows Sylvie is hesitating about something.

“Hey, Sylvie, whatever it is, you can talk to me about it,” he tells her gently.

Sylvie sighs, “you know me too well.”

“I should hope so,” Matt chuckles, “so?”

“Hawkins is riding with 61 this shift,” she blurts out.

Matt takes a sip of his coffee, letting Sylvie’s words sink in. Maybe this new Paramedic Field Chief is coming around to the idea.

“And you’re worried about it because -“ he trails off.

“Because what if after all this, he still says no? I know Paramedicine is a good idea but without the support from the Paramedic Field Chief, the CFD is never going to let it happen,” Sylvie finishes, her voice solemn.

In his mind’s eye, he thinks he can see her gnaw on her bottom lip because she’s anxious about the possibility. He hates how she seems to be second guessing herself, letting her nerves take over. Sylvie’s been working on this project for the last few weeks. She wakes up early in the morning to go through data and studies and he knows it means a lot to her. He's thought about stepping in and maybe talking to a few white shirts who he knows are friendly but he doesn't think Sylvie would appreciate it as much so he fights the urge to be over protective. She's done so much already, show so much grit and determination to see this through. He knows that if anyone can make this a reality, it’s Sylvie Brett with two t’s.

“Hey, listen to me, you’re going to be great. You’re going to do what you do every single shift and if Hawkins can’t see that then screw him. We’ll figure out a way to make this all happen,” Matt advises.

Sylvie lets out a small laugh and Matt can feel her start to relax. Just as she’s about to speak, Matt hears the unmistakable sound of the bells going off. Instinctively, he wants to run to the app floor. He stops himself realizing he’s not at 51 but rather in a kitchen miles away from the firehouse.

“That’s my cue. I gotta go. I love you,” Sylvie says.

“I love you too. be safe out there,” Matt replies before ending the call.

Matt checks in with Sylvie again when shift is over.

“So, how’d it go?” Matt asks as he heads to the porch to get some fresh air.

Sylvie doesn’t speak for a few seconds and Matt is worried that Hawkins turned her down again.

“He agreed, Matt,” Sylvie giddily informs him.

Matt laughs, “that’s great! Tell me all about it.”

Matt sits on the porch listening to Sylvie narrate how their shift went and how Hawkins finally saw first hand the impact of having to respond to all the non emergency calls and frequent flyers. Thankfully, they didn’t need to witness another person get stabbed and flatline in front of them but one shift with 61 made the Paramedic Chief realize that change was indeed necessary.

“Mouch is helping me launch it,” Sylvie mentions.

Matt smiles. He knows Mouch and Sylvie have a special bond so he’s glad the older firefighter will be there to guide Sylvie along the way. “That’s really good to hear. Hopefully, I’ll be back to witness that.”

“Take your time. I know Griffin and Ben need you. This is peanuts compared to that,” Sylvie assures him.

Of course she would say that because Sylvie understands that some things are bigger than both of them but he’ll do everything he can to make his way back in time. He wouldn’t want to miss it.

“I can think of other ways we can celebrate when you get back, Captain,” Sylvie mentions, a hint of flirting in her tone.

Matt grins widely, “do tell.”

Matt spends the next thirty minutes chatting with Sylvie on the phone until Griffin comes out to grab him for breakfast.

[jay4firefic]

I wish you’d write a fic where after the season 1, Buck sleeps with his therapist and the 118 doesn’t help, Buck reaches out to someone he knows will help if he asks (maybe it’s even someone other than Kelly). And Buck gets the help he needs. The mania can be something he’s already been diagnosed for, or something new.

I'm never gonna write a full fic about this because tbh it grosses me out and I intend to write it not happening in most of my fics but here's a short thing w/ Buck asking for help

Buck knows, logically, that he’s not alone. That he has an entire contact list full of people who would jump to help him the moment he says the word, even with two thousand miles between them. That if he really wanted to, he could buy a plane ticket to Chicago and walk right into the waiting arms of any of a half-dozen people who would help put him back together again, people who know where all of his broken puzzle pieces fit better than he does himself.

But at the same time, he kind of is. Because he can’t call the one person who has always known him best. His thumb hovers over the text message from two days ago, saw you on the news. you ok? aching to press the call button, to type out a reply, to admit he isn’t okay at all. To admit that he’s failed. That he was wrong. That he doesn’t know how to do this on his own, never has and probably never will.

God, he’s so lonely out here in LA, surrounded by millions of people and more importantly by a crew that doesn’t yet feel like a team and certainly isn’t a family. He needs his family.

Buck doesn’t even realize he’s made a call until the line clicks and a familiar accent pours out of the car speakers. “Buck, what’s goin’--”

“Stella,” Buck chokes, voice coming out hoarse and painful. When was the last time he had anything to drink? He certainly can’t remember the last time he ate. Sometime yesterday, maybe - the days have started to blur together without sleep to differentiate one from the next. “I need - I - fuck.”

“Woah there, Buck,” she says, suddenly speaking slowly and calmly, like she’s trying to soothe a spooked animal. Or talk a jumper off a roof. They’ve both done it enough times to know the tone. “Just tell me what’s happening, okay? What do you need?”

“I slept with my therapist,” Buck admits. It’s the easiest place to start. Mortifying, sure, but not nearly as bad as admitting he’s off his meds, off his fucking rocker, spinning out with nothing and no one to stabilize him out here.

“You slept with your--”

“It’s the only kind of sleeping I’ve done in - fuck, I don’t know. A few days? A week? I lost track.”

“Buck.” Stella’s breathing changes, just a soft hitch that’s only noticeable because the background noise on her end has suddenly disappeared. He doesn’t know what day it is, couldn’t do the math right now if he tried, but he’s got a feeling she’s on shift. When he closes his eyes on the view outside his windshield - a wash of pink and orange as the sun sets over the ocean, beautiful in a way he can only recognize from a distance at the moment - he can picture her perfectly. Tight braids, quilted CFD jacket, her breath fogging slightly as she leans against the back of the firehouse, one of the few places one can have private conversation at 51.

“I need help.”

“We’ll get you help, okay? We’ll get you help. Can you keep it together for 24 hours?”

Buck tilts his head back against the seat, thinks about it. His thoughts bounce around the inside of his head like ping pong balls that he’s always just a little too slow to hit in the right direction and he can’t feel much beyond the way his skin is vibrating. In the end he answers honestly. “I’m not sure.”

“Then just give me twelve. I know you can do that. You’re strong, Buck. Just hang on for twelve hours and we’ll figure it all out.”

“Okay,” he agrees, letting out a shaky breath. His next inhale tastes like salt and he wonders absently when he started crying. Maybe he’s been crying the whole time, ever since that kid let go instead of reaching for his hand and Buck had to hang there and watch as he became a paint splatter on the concrete below. But someone would have noticed if that was true, right? Someone would have noticed he’s falling apart. The therapist - shouldn’t she have noticed? “Don’t tell--”

“I won’t tell anyone,” she promises, “but they’ll figure it out on their own eventually.”

“Oh, god.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone and found God out there now, Buckley,” she jokes weakly. The background noise returns, a chorus of voices that she dismisses with a few words and probably a meaningful look or two. Yeah, they’re all gonna figure it out in no time, but it’s too late to care about that.

“Not a chance,” he mumbles. The phone slips from his numb fingers as he curls into himself in the driver’s seat, his breaths echoing too loudly inside the car. “Think I lost myself though. ‘M real tired, Stel.”

“Then get some rest, okay? I’ll be there in the morning.”

“Okay.” She probably means for him to rest at home, or at least somewhere other than his car, parked on a remote cliffside overlook only reachable with four wheel drive, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Buck lets his head loll against the window and listens to her breathing down the line, hears her talking distantly to someone else about needing furlough, about it’s an emergency. Hears his own name, at first distant and then near again, growing higher pitched when he doesn’t answer.

He can’t answer. But he did the hard part. He asked for help.

Now he just has to wait for it.

[springsaladgaming]

Progress Update 10/16/21

Hey, everyone! Sorry about the progress update being a day late.

Some asshole changed lanes into my vehicle the other day and it’s been one hell of a week. The damage wasn’t that bad and no one got hurt, but it was a hit and run, so I spent the better part of this week frankly too anxious and pissed off to get any work done.

I’ve gotten a little bit of work done on Ninelives, but nothing on Everlight this time around. Nothing super substantial aside from adding to the wordcount. I think I’ve said this before, but when it comes down to getting this Alex scene into Twine, I have a feeling that I’m going to end up cutting a lot of pieces out, but I guess we’ll see!

A little bit of coding talk... I started out learning in ChoiceScript with very limited coding experience. (I knew some HTML and CSS from my teenage years, but that’s about it and doesn’t really apply to ChoiceScript at all.) Because of my inexperience, my coding in ChoiceScript has been, frankly, sloppy. Even as I continued working in it and learning more, I developed some bad habits that I elected not to change because I knew I would be switching to Twine, and I’m definitely paying for that now. (For example, it never really occurred to me when I started that I could break chapters into smaller files, so it is an absolute nightmare to go about editing or revising code in the longer chapters.)

But because of Twine’s layout, it will be much easier to work on large branching scenes like this one, so I might not have to cut out as much as I’m thinking right now. The ability to visualize the branches and have everything in literal separate boxes means I can get a bit more complex with certain types of branches without getting confused during the writing process.

I also want to talk a little bit about my NaNoWriMo project just because I’m kind of excited to take a break to work on something different for a short while. Of course, I know you all didn’t follow me for that project, so I’m sticking it under the cut at the end of this post so you don’t have to bother with it if you don’t want to!

I hope everyone has a lovely weekend and stays happy and healthy! ✨

I’ve decided to try my hand writing something totally sci-fi, which I don’t do very often. (The last 100% sci-fi thing I wrote was nearly ten years ago.)

The overarching plot of the story is a mercenary starship crew having a sort of furlough on a station colony widely regarded as a neutral zone. The systems rapidly begin to fail and the crew has to escape or die. There are six main characters, all with their own subplots that add extra hurdles to the team’s escape.

Though I’m not big on super detailed outlines, I’ve got the characters and their subplots fleshed out as well as bullet points of the major story beats. There is some Sinking Ship Scenario, Regretful Traitor, Trapped with Monster Plot, and Benevolent A.I. tropes in generous amounts in this story (inspired by a lot of different pieces of media that I love) and it will be fun to mash them all together.

It will be in limited 3rd pov, but I might have each chapter zoom in on different characters or I might stick to the character that I originally designed to be the central protagonist; I haven’t decided yet. But it will be refreshing to work on something without code (which has the tendency to slow down the writing process quite a bit sometimes).

To anyone who actually indulged me in reading this far, thanks! 💕 I haven’t been this excited for NaNoWriMo in a very long time. It’s a good feeling!

[mrwinterr]

3AM

Pairing: Leo West x Female Reader

Summary: You should go home, but you always end up in his room and this time he isn’t letting you walk away from him again.

Warnings: Smut 18+ (consensual sex, unprotected sex, oral [female receiving], hand job, vaginal fingering, cum play, cock warming and dirty talk). Pillow talk. Language. Angst, I guess. & mentions of alcohol.

Disclaimer: Minor elements of the film Ibiza (2018) are present in this. More like one or two out of context spoilers. It wouldn’t really ruin the movie. You don’t have to watch it to read this.

Title Inspiration: “3AM” by You Me At Six

A/N: I caved. I’ve finally written something for one of Richard Madden’s characters. Personally, I would’ve never watched Ibiza, but it was on Netflix, I was on furlough from my job, and quite frankly Leo West is fucking perfect.  

Deep breaths. Deep and calculated breaths. For some reason you paid more attention to your breathing when inebriated. Your eyelids felt extra heavy as you struggled to not only keep them open, but also your line of vision straight. The pores of your body were seeping out sweat from the copious amount of alcohol you’d consumed. The air was stuffy, and you kept sniffling.

You wanted to blame the last part solely on the alcohol too, but you couldn’t escape the real reason that drove you to spend hours at a bar in the first place. Historically speaking, you liked to enjoy yourself, maybe a bit more than others, and while it was reckless, that lifestyle introduced you to one of your favorite things on this planet. It wasn’t the drinks, the substances or the sex, but a humble, very talented now turned international superstar DJ. 

It led you to Leo West.  

It was at a small, dark club on a busy weekend. You were closing in on finals week and what better way to de-stress than a night out on the street. Your friends opted for this particular joint because of the aesthetic, but you didn’t care about its appearance. It was a bar nonetheless, the place always catered to live music and you loved that.

You remembered how puzzling it was to not see the usual instruments, like that of a guitar or a drum kit or a set of keyboards or even a lone microphone stand on the makeshift stage that had one dimmed spotlight. Instead, there was just a table with a case, a laptop, a turntable and a pair of headphones displayed on top of it. Oh, and lots of wires and buttons and knobs everywhere!  

Great. A wannabe DJ was scheduled tonight that would most likely go overkill on the bass and damage your eardrums. You weren’t drunk enough to stick around for this, so you walked back to the bar, hoping if you got a few more drinks in you then maybe the “DJ” wouldn’t sound as bad as you were expecting.

Claiming a spot, drink in hand, your eyes started scanning the small capacity crowd until they locked on a man and his path up to the stage and behind the setup. The intro music he picked out started playing, but it fell deaf on your ears. And your whole world just stopped when he looked up, the first of many “performer-to-audience” eye contact that night. He just couldn’t keep his eyes off you each time he looked into the small crowd. It all but allowed you a better look at him.

He wasn’t as defined back then, the t-shirt hung loose on his body, but he was still built nicely. His hair was curlier, definitely didn’t have the money to have it styled and cut or dyed, no trace of the signature gray streak in the front, nor was it maintained like it was now. He was very handsome. And his voice, when he spoke into the microphone clumsily, your heart melted. He wasn’t from here, and you wondered how the world brought this cute, awkward guy all the way from Scotland here to you.

When his set ended, he appeared next to you at the bar ordering a drink. He looked over at you and smiled sheepishly. He was adorable. You were done. You were always a confident person, and you mentally cursed yourself for even feeling like this. You didn’t do serious relationships. There just wasn’t any time for one in your life right now. You were young, still are, and the only thing you’d wanted from anyone was a distraction here and there.

He told you his name. You told him yours. He commented on the necklace you were wearing. You complimented his set. You even teased him about seeing him trip over one of his wires. He thought no one was paying attention, but you were. The two of you talked and talked until last call and the bartenders were begging you both to leave so they could close up shop.

That led you to his place. You learned he’d transferred from overseas to study music and was looking to break out in this country. He wanted to make it big time. You admired him for that. Then there you were pathetically telling him your small-town goals, it seemed dull compared to his, but Leo never wanted to make you feel that way as his words assured you that they weren’t and only encouraged you further.

The attraction wasn’t lost between you two either. You didn’t go home that night. You stayed and what was supposed to be one turned into many nights tangled in one another. You frequented his bed often to the point it looked official to everyone - except it never was. Leo made it loud and clear he wanted to be with you, but you kept bypassing his proclamations. He became none but a standby in your haze.

He just made it too easy to feel. With him everything was easy; not a care in the world, just you and him. It could and should be just that - easy - but your heart and mind didn’t ever make it that way for you. They wanted two different things. Your heart wanted Leo, but your mind said it wasn’t worth it.

He’d make it big one day, no doubt about that. He got good each and every set you saw him put on. He’d travel more, settle in a much more exciting area, find someone who could commit and keep up with his new life. You knew it wouldn’t be fair to have Leo wait around for you to change, but getting your shit together was something you had to do at your own pace.

Once you graduated and his advancements were becoming a bit more serious, you started to turn a new leaf. You did it to be a better version of yourself for him because he deserved it that much, but he always claimed he wanted you – whatever version he could have. At least that’s what he had you convinced of up until you saw him lock eyes and signal over to another girl in the massive crowd several hours ago.

What the fuck? That was your whole reaction. How could he? He always said no matter how big the numbers he played, he’d always and only see you. He didn’t look anywhere else besides her during the set, well you didn’t care anymore because you left after seeing them walk to the back. Did he not mean a single word he said to you? All those nights in bed, was it all just pillow talk? Figures. You didn’t want to get upset because you let it come to this.

In that moment, you just couldn’t forget all the pretty lies. You’re mindlessly scrolling through the messages on your phone, until your blurry eyes see his name and the distinct emoji assigned next to it. Based on the thread, you thought you were both heading towards the same page. It shouldn’t have been this complicated. Now all that’s left is yourself staring down at an old text message he sent, no longer wondering if he really meant any word of it. It hurt. It really fucking hurt.Your mind was proven right and now your heart paid the price.

“Miss? We’re here.” You pick up your head that was slumped against the side of the cab window and nod in acknowledgement.

You stuff your phone in your purse, pay for your fare, stumble along the stones of the pavement, on the steps of the complex and into the elevator up to the highest floor. You stare at the numbers on the door, hoping they’d line up and still, before you slip the spare key card into the slot and barge right into the suite.

You walk right out of your heels, and on your path to the glass doors and window, you aimlessly toss your purse over the expensive couch, and expertly reach for the zipper behind your back, dragging it down along the dress you were wearing, allowing it to pool at your ankles only for you to kick it away soon after. Forget the fact that you splurged a bit more than usual on it in hopes for a celebration of some sort.

When you stepped outside, you headed straight into the hot tub that also provided an overlook of the city. As you slowly descend neck deep into the hot water, you close your eyes and lean your head back on the edge, feeling the muscles in your body begin to loosen up. The jet streams of the hot tub that caused the bubbles collided headfirst with your back, and a taste of the midnight air in your face, all offered you only a temporary high. You used to think the hot tub was a bit too much at the time, but now you were basking in it.

For a moment you think you could just pass out right there, when you hear him say your name from behind. Your eyes flutter open and you hear the floorboards lightly creek with the thuds of his heavy footsteps as he makes his way to sit on the edge of one side of the rectangular tub. You don’t dare divert your eyes over in his direction just yet.

“It’s 3 a.m.” Leo states; an all too familiar scene for the both of you, and even though you’re not looking at him you can hear the concern in his voice. You roll your eyes at the obvious, not giving a damn if he saw, and then at the idea of him being concerned about you.

He senses the discomfort in the air and is hesitant in choosing what he should say next. He hated being on your bad side and judging by your demeanor you were mad. “You should probably go home,” he suggests after getting no response from you.

Only when he moves to get up and fetch a nearby towel, you turn your head and speak, “Why? Is she here?” It meant to come out as casual, but it came out more spiteful.

The muscles of his back contract and he visibly tenses at your cold tone. “What?” Leo questions, turning his head to look over his shoulder.

“I saw you!” You say, sitting up straight and getting ready to step out of the tub.

Leo is quick to assist you as he his entire body spins around, a rolled up towel in hand, “You’re not thinking straight-” he says and attempts to cover you up, but you snatch the towel from him and help yourself out of the tub. Water sloshes around as Leo puts his hands out, eyeing your every move the whole time in fear of you slipping and falling.

He follows you back into the suite and calls out your name again, but hearing it flow out of his mouth in his voice starts to hurt more and more.

“I’m not fucking blind, Leo!” You shout, whipping around and with your hands out in frustration.

“Shh! Please. The neighbors are sleeping!” He pleads, grabbing you by your wrist bringing them in and pulling you close to him. Your face is almost nose-to-nose with his, but you lean your head back just slightly in defiance.  

“I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck.” You say in a more indoor friendly volume, emphasizing each word, effectively letting him how mad you still were. The close proximity gives him a whiff of the alcohol on your breath. You were drunk. He thought you’d stopped this destructive habit.

“I don’t get you,” he says barely above a whisper. It wasn’t meant to come out, but his thoughts always left his mind around you.

“Me?” you ask quizzically, noticing the strong look of confusion etched all over his pretty face, “I don’t get you, Leo,” you couldn’t hold it in anymore, “you begged me to come watch your set tonight,” pulling one of your wrists out from his grip, poking a finger at his chest.

“You said you were busy with work-“ he says then grabbing the loose hand stabbing at him in his larger one.

“I wanted to surprise you,” you explain, voice cracking under it all, “I didn’t think it was going to work because you said,” the atmosphere grows thick and you struggle to speak, “you said no matter how big of a crowd you were playing that you’d always see me, but you didn’t.” You always had a pretty good idea that Leo would wait for you, but when he failed to spot you tonight, you really thought you’d lost him for good this time.

Then he understood why you were upset. You saw him make signals to another woman and take her backstage, where all he was trying to do was help the poor girl and tell her she had a penis drawn on her face with a black light marker. He never saw her again after that. All that did was paint the wrong picture in your eyes.

Leo looked down, breaking the intense eye contact. It was probably best he didn’t see the tears in the corner of your eyes that were threatening to fall, but he didn’t cast his gaze away fast enough as they ran down in streaks, staining your face. He just didn’t know where to start.

You had been there for him tonight. He’d been really happy lately, especially when you started responding and returning his gestures. He thought he was finally going somewhere with you. And here you are, revealing you’d sacrificed and made time to see him play and he didn’t even see you. That led you down to a bar and into an old habit you’d gotten rid of lately, but he just threw you back into the pit unintentionally.

“I should go home,” you say, defeated and breaking away from him. You wipe at your face, trying to clear the make-up that was out of place and turn to pick up your discarded dress off the floor.

“No, don’t. Don’t leave me,” Leo says frantically reaching out for you. Another act within the all too familiar scene; he always hated this part and seeing it replay over and over. All those times you walked out, scared of something, he wasn’t going to let it happen again. He stumbles a bit as he manages to grab your arm to turn you back and face him. You brace a hand on his strong chest preventing yourself from crashing right into him.

Deep breaths. Deep and calculated breaths. You’re counting not yours but his breaths this time. You can feel his heart racing as you stare at his plump lips, parted and each exhale fanning against your face. His hands come up to cradle your face; and while alcohol had its way with making parts of your body feel numb, you always felt his touches. It was the best feeling.

Leo was always transparent with you and was nothing short of it in this moment as he crashed his lips into yours. He’d never been as desperate than he was now. The grip on your face was secure, hoping you wouldn’t attempt to escape again. He didn’t have to worry though because you were tired of fighting it. You’d bare yourself to him.

Your arms wrapping around his neck let him know you weren’t going anywhere this time, and he was able to let one hand reach down between your bodies to remove the towel. His touch sends shivers throughout your body as you rub up against him; your soaked undergarments leave a wet imprint on his dry clothes. His hands travel down to your thighs, giving it a light squeeze, signaling for you to jump up.

He carries you to his bedroom, lips never parting, until he has you lying down on the massive bed. He kisses you all over - your neck, collarbones, between your breasts, down your naval, hip bones, and the insides of your thighs - each kiss feels like a drug shooting through your system.

Leo tests the waters by pressing a finger to your clothed core and upon seeing the slight jolt of your hips, it gives him all the encouragement he needed to tug the damp article of clothing down your legs. He spreads your legs a bit further apart, pressing them down against the mattress, enough room for his burly body to settle between them.

His tongue darts out to your clit and you suck in a harsh breath of air at the contact. Each running pass of his tongue has you squirming, he has to use both of his hands to keep you still. The vibrations of his moans wreck all throughout your body as he sucks on the bundle of nerves.

Your hands wildly reach out in front of you, messing up his short hair, you need something to hold onto. Leo offers one hand, lacing your fingers together, yours more of a death grip in his. It only loosens when he suddenly stops.

You pick up your head that had dug deep back into the pillows to see why. You groan at the sinful sight of seeing his mouth glistening in all its glory - doused in you. Leo comes back up to level himself with you; both sets of eyes pulled together like magnets. He steadies himself with one hand above your head and the other grabs a hold of your leg, keeping them open for him, so his hand could find a clear path to your pussy.

Your slick makes it easy for him to slip his thick digits in you. Leo revels in the look on your face contorted in pleasure he is bestowing upon you. He inwardly groans at the snug grip around his fingers as he slowly pushes them in-and-out; the filthy, lewd noises only further cause his blood to rush fast down his body.

You start rocking your hips, your clit brushing past his palm with each thrust up. With a curl of his finger, he finds the spot and it's confirmed when you wrap a hand around his wrist to keep it there.

“That’s it, huh, baby?” Leo asks knowing full well he’s found the trigger, “that’s...your...spot,” and with every word his finger sinks in deeper and deeper. There’s a feral look he’s sporting, and you let out a whine in response, your fingernails puncturing his skin.

“You know what to do,” his voice turns rugged, “you know what to do, baby girl,” his fingers working faster, “come on my hand,” his forehead, sweaty, pressing against your own, “you can do it,” his soulful eyes burning a hole through yours when you finally come for him.

“Good fucking girl,” he growls against your lips. You start clawing at his white t-shirt, but it’s fitted so well, you start wrestling with the fabric to get it over his head. He chuckles lightly at you as you pout at him. He kisses the space between your eyebrows and sits up removing his shirt on his own; his bottoms follow ensuite.  

You admire the expanse of his toned body for a brief moment before you pull him down back on you. Your teeth tug at his luscious lower lip then suck at it. Leo chases your tongue with his own, engrossed by your lips he’s not prepared for when you sneak a hand in his boxers and grab a hold of his length. He moans into the kiss at the contact and slides his boxers all the way off, giving him a full show of your fingers wrapped around his hard cock. You watch as he swallows the knot in his throat when your thumb swipes across at the bead of pre-cum leaking from the head.

“Yes, baby, just like that,” he says encouragingly as you start stroking him at a pace only you know he loves, “you see how good you make me feel?” It’s a question that doesn’t require an answer. He was hot and heavy in your hands and you wanted nothing more than a taste, so you switch hands bringing the sticky one up to your mouth giving your palm a broad lick as you try to lap you all of what was left of him on your skin.

His jaw visibly ticks as he watches the whole thing. You bring your wet hand back down and resume jerking him off. His breathing increases and you know he wants to cum when he involuntarily starts thrusting back, but he had other things on his agenda as he gingerly pushed your hands away.

“I wanna...inside you,” he says, still very much short of breath, this version of him only made you more wet.

“Please,” you beg, feeling his cock slide up and down your pussy, prepping him with your slick. You never begged, but for some reason you got scared that this would all end in an instance.

You let out a big sigh of relief when he pushes in and fills you up to the brim. Your eyes widen at how his cock stretches you out to accommodate his size. You feel close to bursting at just being able to feel all of him, as he stilled in you, feeling every ridge and vein.  He takes a moment to himself, studying the way your body reacts to his. He’s reeling in on the warmth you provided his cock and more so his heart. You made every part of him swell up.

With a long and heavy drag out, Leo begins to thrust back in deep and slow, only increasing when he feels your hips start to retaliate back against his. He knows the pace you like it at.

“Fuck!” You yelp feeling the tip of his cock probe at the right spot.

Leo loops an arm around from beneath you, and at first you think he’s trying to bring you in closer by the hips, but instead he flips over, so you’re now settled on top of him. You support yourself with both hands on his pecs, fingers lost within the hair that sprinkled his chest, then you start grinding your hips deliciously over his. He helps you set a new rhythm with his hands on your hips. You watch as he bites his bottom lip and just the sight alone makes you want to come again.

He sits up, bracing one arm behind him for support, while the other pushes you slightly back, you have to use both hands to support your upper body, but this new position allows you both to get a good look at your bodies connected. Eyes both glued at his cock buried deep in you, you rotate your hips and moan when you feel his cock scratch along your inner walls with each swivel.

“That’s right, you know how to make me feel good...fuck, yes,” he praises then places a thumb to start rubbing circles over your sensitive clit, causing your thighs to clamp up, “that’s it baby, work that pussy on this cock...it’s all yours, beautiful.”

Once he has a good upright position, he uses his other hand to undo the clasp of your bra. He has a hard time trying to rid you of the confines, so you maneuver and sink down back on him and do it yourself. He uses both hands to pull the straps down your arms before bringing your body flush against his and reclaiming your lips.

You let out a sigh as his lips travel down your neck to your breasts, groping one and sucking on the other. Your hands find purchase in his dark sweaty locks as he pistons his hips up hitting deeper.

You pull his face away from your chest and you take note of his glossy eyes, the sweat buildup on his hairline, the creases on his forehead, his swollen lips and you’re in complete awe of just how handsome he’s always been. Leo brings a hand to your face, thumb brushing away the stray tear that escaped your eyes. You slightly turn your head in his palm so your lips can capture his thumb. The same one that was just mere moments ago rubbing circles on your clit.

Leo gasps at the sight, your eyes close from the burst of flavor of yourself on his salty digit. Your hips work harder and your thighs begin to ache. It shows, so Leo starts to pick up on the slack.

“Leo-“ you call out his name after a particular sharp thrust, your labored breathing makes it hard to voice out your desire, but he knew you were close and so was he.  

His hands grope your ass as he brings your hips down hard against his, you feel the hairs on his lower abdomen rub against your clit, effectively adding on to the impending sensation.

“Come on, baby. You can do it,” his fingers would definitely leave marks your skin, but you don’t mind it because yours claw at chest, “come on my fucking cock...show me how good it feels, pretty girl.”

You shut him up with a bruising kiss and soon he’s swallowing your moans as your body starts to quake, pussy clenching tight around him. You keep your hips grounded in place when you feel the throb of each spurt of his cum that shoots deep inside you.

Both of you part your lips from one another for some needed air. You’re still experiencing a bit of an aftershock as your walls continue to contract around his cock.

“Ride it out, baby, use my cock,” he says against your lips, and assisting you with small movements up and down his cock, “that’s it. You got it. Fuck, I love you. I love you so much,” he says, wrapping his arms around your body.

Your body falters against him when you don’t fail to notice that he’s started slipping the L-Bomb in his praises. Leo feels drops of water hit his skin and when he opens his eyes, he notices your body shaking still – you’re crying.

“Hey,” he says cradling your face again, “what’s wrong?” He pulls back to inspect your body and see if you were hurt in any way.

You brace his face in both your hands to stop his eyes from wandering from anywhere else but your face. “Did you mean it?” You ask, unable to control the downpour of tears.

Leo stops moving and immediately understands what you’re asking. You’re asking if he meant it when he said you were the only one he’d ever notice. You’re asking if he meant it when he said he’d wait for you. You’re asking if he meant it when he said he loved you.

“Every word,” he confirms.

Overjoyed, you press your lips together in a tight smile, and let the rest of your tears fall. He lets you rest your head on the crook of his neck as he rubbed soothing patterns on your back in attempts to calm you down.

When you do, you pull away and finally say it back, “I love you too, Leo West. I’ve always been in love with you,” and watching the big smile on his face was almost enough to cure you.

He meticulously pulls out of you, slight signs of his cum seeping out and running down your thighs, and helps you off him. You both settle down on the bed, bodies parallel, both on your sides, silently staring at one another. You absentmindedly brushing the gray lock of hair away from his forehead.  

“Nothing happened with her,” Leo says breaking the comfortable silence. He wanted to bring tonight to attention because he meant it when he told you previously that he doesn’t bring anyone back home. You almost forgot about tonight but are still relieved to hear him put to rest any suspicious thoughts.  

“I’m scared,” you admit. The first step had been admitting you had loved him back this whole time, but you still had to face the fact that you both were on two different schedules and you feared the worst it wouldn’t work out.

“Come with me,” he proposes.

“What?” You ask completely taken back at the offer.

“Come on tour with me,” he says a bit more specifically.

You’d already proven you were willing to drop work for him by showing up at his gig tonight, but were you willing to leave your old life behind to follow his?

Then the biggest smile on Leo’s face confirms everything when you respond, “okay.”

A/N: Leo West is so precious! & for the record, I too would drop everything to follow him. Lol. I may write more Richard Madden fics, idk yet. Please let me know if you liked this or what. Thanks for reading! 

[artificialqueens]

Chase the Shadows Away (Taywhora) - Juno

Summary: It’s April 2020, the UK is in lockdown, and Tayce gets a hand-delivered letter from her neighbour Aurora which may change her life.

A/N: So this is set during lockdown and does mention covid, so please bear this in mind when reading if this will be a worry, but otherwise I hope you enjoy. CWs in place for alcohol, mental health mentions, and non-adherence to lockdown rules at one point. 

Otherwise it’s quite fluffy with some h/c. I hope you enjoy.

The first letter Tayce got was in early April.

She hadn’t had much post since the whole country had been locked down, no one allowed to move outside their front doors for more than once a day for threat of fines and penalties and even getting sick. Most of the letters she was getting this week had been birthday cards for her absent housemate. She’d put the various brightly-coloured cards and Amazon boxes in a pile outside Viv’s bedroom door, and gave the pile the middle finger every time she walked past it.

But today there was a plain, white envelope, with “Hi” written on it in glittery red pen, and when Tayce opened it, she found a piece of notebook paper that had been folded at least four times, and Tayce nearly threw it across the room with the effort it was taking to open.

This had better be worth it.

When she got it unfolded, she read the three lines in the same glitter pen, then again, and once more just in case.

‘Hi, I’m Aurora. I’m on my own in my flat 7D because my housemate moved home because of lockdown, and you seem to be alone too. Want to write to each other? X’

And Tayce couldn’t hold back the rush of emotion, as much as she tried - but she was alone, and she took comfort knowing only these four walls would see tears stream down her face.

——

Tayce was on her own in the flat.

In the day time she opened her work laptop, thanking god she was allowed to work from home; throwing a hoodie over her pyjama top just in time for the 9am meeting where her boss grinned at everyone and told them all to keep swimming and chin up and whatever other self-indulgent bullshit she had read in her How To Motivate Your Teammanual in the chapter about Managing Pandemics. 

Tayce was still surprised at how much bullshit her workmates seemed to swallow; all of them with the same broad smiles and straightened hair and shaved chins and eyeliner, for fuck’s sake - but Tayce copied them, knowing that not painting her own smile and her own eyebrows on was damning herself for the inevitable call and the simpering It’s Good To Talk conversation, followed by u k hun xx to be flashing repeatedly in the work WhatsApp group from all the team.

In the evenings, the only noise was the clink of the glass bottle against the wine glass. One glass was enough to make her a little sleepy, two was enough to make her dance, and three was enough to make her post something cryptic on her insta story and see if anyone DMed her. 

Sometimes they did. 

Joe liked to crack a few morbid jokes about how it was the apocalypse and we were all going to be dead by 2021, which didn’t help Tayce in the slightest. Ginny would message “You alright, bab?” at three in the morning, but never reply to any other message. Tia would send Tayce a picture of the banana bread she’d baked as if that would cheer Tayce up.

And Cherry sent her a message one time, telling her to look after her mental health, and then Tayce felt bad because Cherry worked for the NHS and only seemed to work and sleep right now, her insta photos showing her looking more and more gaunt, with #ClapForHeroes and #ProtectTheNHS appearing at the bottom of all her posts.

Nothing curbed the gaping black hole in Tayce’s chest, sucking everything that was good from her body and leaving her a shell.

Until the letter arrived.

——

Two days after she’d posted her own letter back to 7D, another letter arrived, in the same glittery red pen, this time addressed to her, with Tayce written on the front of the envelope this time.

‘Hi Tayce (sp?) nice to meet you, don’t worry I don’t know what to say either! Where in Wales are you from? I’m from Nottingham but I came to London for uni and didn’t leave! Are you still working rn? I got furloughed which is a bit shit. And my housemate is staying with her boyfriend so she can’t move back. Have you been clapping for the NHS? Someone on my floor was banging a pan or something!! Hope your ok? WB Aurora xx’

“I’m making a new friend,” Tayce had said to her mum on the phone later that night.

“In lockdown?”

“She’s delivering me letters.”

“How?”

“By hand, mum.” Tayce forced a laugh. “You know. Through the letterbox like a normal letter.”

“I hope you’re washing your hands before and after you open them, are you?”

“Yeah, of course,” Tayce grimaced as she said it.

“Good. Stay safe. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

One of these days, Tayce thought as she disconnected the call, she might be able to say it without her voice breaking.

——

By mid-April, a full month since lockdown had started and two weeks after the first letters between them, Aurora had given Tayce her instagram handle, and Tayce had given hers in return. Tayce found herself spending all of her Good Friday skimming down the page on moreauroramore, looking through all of her new pen pal’s photos and trying desperately not to look like an idiot by accidentally double-tapping any that were obviously over a year old.

Tayce had pictured Aurora in her mind as being over-excitable, short, with dark hair and lots of dusty pinks and baby blues and other pastel colours as her aesthetic, maybe with pot plants and cat pictures and cutesy little slogans surrounded by hearts. Instead she’d found a smolderingly attractive woman with a ridiculously versatile and sophisticated sense of fashion; one photo in a rococo-inspired summer dress, and the next in a cerulean blazer, matching trousers, and stilettos. Her hair was platinum-blonde, but it was hard to tell her eye colour as she seemed to own a never-ending plethora of colour contacts; and the eyebrow ring in the early pictures was replaced by a silver septum ring in later ones. 

Her own insta looked quite plain in comparison, Tayce thought to herself. The landscapes she liked to post were interesting to her but probably not to the magnificent person on Aurora’s insta. The last picture Tayce had taken was of herself with her brother and niece in red rugby shirts just before the Six Nations was on; the last selfie before the last time she’d gone home which was … only February, she realised. 

February felt like years ago.

When Tayce had awoken the next morning, she was greeted by the doorbell, and an Amazon driver sprinting away the moment she opened the door. A letter was on the doormat, in the familiar red glittery pen, and a single chocolate Easter egg. 

‘Happy Easter Tayce. Don’t know if you celebrate but lol thought you would like some chocolate anyway! Don’t eat it all at once. Aurora xx’

It made Tayce’s gut wrench with guilt that she hadn’t thought to get Aurora one.

But it made Tayce even more pained, once she had clicked onto her instagram, to see that moreauroramore had liked all thirteen of the pictures she’d posted this year.

——

The zoom call at the end of April with the others from her uni group, saw not just Cherry missing, but also Ellie and Veronica.

“Ellie’s moving this week,” Lawrence nodded at the screen, “but that was all she’d tell me. She didn’t say where. Or if she’s staying in Dundee or anything. I just know she’s still trying to get her internet set up and I think she’s a bit stuck.”

“What about Vee?” Ginny asked in a low voice.

They all recognised the somber tone. They’d all taken it up. A change in their voices that all of them recognised in a kind of collective telepathic awareness. A hush in the calls, as if someone were dying, or had just died. Whenever anyone was missing, it was always the same worry circling all of their minds: what if it’s covid what if it’s covid what if it’s -

Tia was shaking her head. “It’s not covid,” she said, reading the minds of everyone through the internet, but her voice was still solemn as she continued. “I spoke to her mum. She’s -“

“Say depressed, Tia, it’s fine.” Bimini spoke gently, but not all of them were as open as Bimini was. Especially when it came to Veronica, who was a brick wall when it came to showing what she was feeling.

“She’s - not in a good place.”

“Say mental health,” Bimini said, shaking their head. “It’s okay to not be okay.”

“I don’t think that’s gonna make her feel any better, Bim.” Tia rolled her eyes. 

“We’re all feeling this,” Pip nodded. “We all need to talk to each other.”

“Veronica won’t. Not yet. We just need to be there for her when she does. Anyway, who’s done anything interesting? Anyone else been trying banana bread? Everyone managed to find bogroll from somewhere now? No one is having the same problem that Joe had when she -“

“I don’t think we need to go any further with that one, love,” Joe muttered.

“I’ve made a pen friend.”

Everyone sat in stunned silence at Tayce’s sentence, mouths open like fish at feeding time.

“A pen friend? What is this, 1986?”

“Shut up, Ginny. I think that’s kind of cute, actually,” Tia mused, tilting her head to one side. 

Tayce nodded. “Something a bit different. She lives in my block of flats. Two floors up from me. Been nice, to talk to someone, ever since Viv buggered off to her boyfriend’s house. Seriously, as soon as Boris announced lockdown she was jumping in her car and off to Liverpool.”

“You said she was a bit flaky,” Tia said sympathetically. “What’s your new pen pal’s name?”

“Aurora.”

“A-what?” Ginny raised their eyebrows. “Can we just call her Rory?”

“No.”

“We should get her on a call with us when Veronica’s back. Ronni and Rory, sounds like Ant and Dec will have some stiff competition when they get wind of that.”

“Ginny -“ Tia began, but Tayce was trying to hold back a chuckle. 

——

‘Someone is talking about a street party on the 8th of May. Are you gonna go? I was gonna stay indoors but if you’re gonna go outside i will too xx’

Tayce knew she shouldn’t be thinking of meeting strangers outside her flat while the pandemic was ongoing, but she hadn’t seen a familiar human since March other than on a zoom call screen. 

‘Hi Aurora, yeah i will go outside for a little bit. Look forward to meeting you properly instead of over letters! Tayce’

And Tayce finally stopped hesitating, adding two kisses on the end for the first time.

The weather was meant to be lush for a May bank holiday, as Tayce knew because her colleagues wouldn’t shut up about it. Almost eight weeks of lockdown were beginning to show the cracks in all their faces - no more eyeliner, and even Linda in Accounts had stopped posting boomerang videos of her kids doing Joe Wicks workouts while she waved her arms behind them. 

So Tayce was over the moon when Friday rolled around and she could slam the Dismiss button on her phone alarm, turn over and sleep in until noon. Once she woke up though, she sat up with a jolt in her bed and realised she’d have to get ready; somehow it was important that she looked right today. 

It was a power play, she knew it. An armour. But there was just something about clothes that made her mood turn in an instant. Her favourite leather jacket was probably a bit too heavy for the warm sunshine - warm sunshine? In May? - so she opted for the black denim instead and a skirt that hugged her slender figure, leaving her hair loose and wishing she’d gone for a trim before the lockdown. Maybe she should take her scissors to it? 

She held the only scissors she had to hand - a pair of craft scissors - and wondered what her hairdresser mum would say if she knew that her daughter had taken non-styling scissors to the 30-inches of hair that she had. 

No - better not. Her mum could give her a go over once the lockdown period had ended.

Someone was playing tunes on a speaker already when Tayce came down the stairs, dragging the garden chair Viv had left behind and brushing the digestive crumbs off it. One of the neighbours she recognised from her floor handed her an ice-cold can of Fosters which she sipped, not really enjoying the taste but relishing the freedom of it all. She knew to keep two metres from everyone, and she knew Cherry would absolutely murder her if she disobeyed that rule.

As soon as Aurora came into view from the block of flats, Tayce knew that keeping to the two metre rule would prove a little harder than she had first thought.

Aurora’s insta pictures showed a fashion model trapped in a little box on a screen, striving to get out - but in the flesh, she looked as if she had just rolled out of the living room after a Tiger King marathon. The grey jogging bottoms paired with the crop top and zip-up hoodie were probably too warm for today - 23 degrees, the radio kept repeating - but she made them look so effortless and stylish that Tayce suddenly wanted to buy some. Her platinum hair was piled in a messy bun, dark brown roots showing but the lackadaisical nature made it seem like Aurora meant it that way.

On her insta page, Aurora was way out of Tayce’s league; but here in life, she seemed a lot more accessible, a lot calmer, a lot more real. 

Maybe it’s armour for her too. All this perfection in the photos. God. Why did I wear this?

She dropped her own deck chair down a reasonable distance from Tayce, taking another can of Fosters from the same neighbour and cracking it open. She took a swig, wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, and waved.

“Hi, Tayce. Here we are, then!”

“Yeah,” was the only thing Tayce could think of in response. Really cool. Very clever.

But Aurora was talking animatedly about how much she’d missed the sun, as she pulled a pair of sunglasses from her pocket and leaned back against the deck chair, claiming “Tesco are having them on sale - two for £12, so I got two - what else am I gonna do on furlough other than sunbathe!”

And the more the Fosters flowed - their neighbour’s 24-pack almost completely gone before 5pm, he seemingly wanting to give a can to the whole block - the more Aurora opened up her life history to Tayce. 

How much she wished she was still in Worksop and could go on the long walks into the forest. How she’d give anything to hug her mum, a care-worker, and how she FaceTimed her shielding grandad every Sunday at 6.30 just after he finished his tea. 

But most of all, how lonely it was every single night being alone in a flat in a huge city. Aurora dabbed her watery eyes with her thumbs as she described how much she loved everything that London had to offer when it was full of people, not dead to the world like it was now - and in this hollow place that lockdown was, she’d discovered that a city - any city, however exciting - was just a built-up area if you had no one to share it with. 

Tayce hadn’t expected to cry. She’d cried maybe once or twice this whole time in lockdown, still too numb to have taken everything in that was happening. But the moment she’d opened her mouth, suddenly the Fosters had started talking for her too, and she was spilling out her worries onto the pavement below them as Aurora rubbed her back. 

How her mum was furloughed from the hairdresser and her dad was always out in the lorry up and down the country. Her brother and sister-in-law, and her niece, were all still fine in Newport, but Tayce had missed her niece’s birthday, having to settle for blowing her a kiss down FaceTime and promising her through gritted teeth and cold fear that she’d give her the biggest cwtch ever as soon as this was over.

But now Tayce was in tears again, this time on Aurora’s shoulder, releasing her sorrows onto this woman who she had only exchanged written words with; now seeing her true soul laid bare in emotions that just refused to stop once she started. Aurora’s gentle hands ghosted through her hair, but then gripped Tayce tightly to her chest, planting a long, tender kiss on her hairline. 

How had this happened? How had social distancing become this? Two people, thinking they were islands, clinging to one another for dear life?

Tayce held her for too long.

Aurora’s hands froze as she realised what she had done at the same moment Tayce had.

Cherry is gonna kill me.

Aurora walked with Tayce back to her flat as the sun was setting. It was nine in the evening, the heat finally starting to break, and both of them were aching and tired, spent from their tears. Aurora gave Tayce’s hand a gentle squeeze but said nothing else, her eyes red underneath her sunglasses, and Tayce had felt herself harden once again, turning the key in the door and closing the outside world back to where it should be.

——

After two weeks had passed, both of them not developing any symptoms after their contact, Tayce had an idea. 

She put the letter through the letterbox in 7D at midday when she broke for lunch, and had a reply by half past one, a new record for Aurora.

‘Tayce, I’d love to form a support bubble with you. I thought you would have one already thats why i didn’t ask! Want to put on a film tonight and just chill? Bubble bud? Aurora xx’

So Tayce saw inside Aurora’s flat for the first time that same evening. After work, she practically sprinted up the stairs, thankful to get away from more of u k hun xx and her still-simpering colleagues.

It was very clean, as if it had only just been cleaned that day - freshly-washed surfaces, hoovered carpets, a sparkling bathroom - and Tayce marvelled at how tidy and orderly things were, a stark contrast from her own living space which had evolved into a nest of mess by now. Aurora’s living room and kitchen space were one area, with a mismatched sofa and chair facing the tv screen, hooking up a PS4 - Tayce hadn’t counted Aurora as a Dishonoured player either. The wall opposite the window was filled with small pictures of past fashion models - Kate Moss, Agyness Deyn, Cara Delevigne - all with matte black frames which had obviously been painted in lockdown, as one was on the coffee table drying over a copy of Hello magazine.

“My housemate’s not coming back, I can see it happening now,” Aurora shrugged, “so why not make the house the way I like it while I look for someone else to live with?”

Aurora poured Tayce a huge glass of wine, and that was followed by another; while she topped up her own glass liberally and kept shifting on the sofa as if trying to get comfortable. Tayce, for her part, took the chair instead, while Aurora tapped on the PlayStation controller to try to get Netflix up. The more she drank, the more cumbersome the controller seemed to become in her hands, until Tayce leaned over and took it away from her, Aurora’s fingers lingering a little too long on it before relinquishing.

When Aurora got up, meaning to pour them both a fourth glass of wine, she slipped on something and tumbled into Tayce’s lap in the chair, tittering something that sounded like “god I’m clumsy” through the giggles that came from her, unable to stop. Tayce slapped her on the back as she started coughing, but as that died down, Aurora straightened up, picking up Tayce’s hand in hers and drawing her up and away to join her on the sofa.

Lockdown had been so fucking lonely.

Aurora’s hand in hers was all Tayce needed to dissolve every wall she was still rebuilding from May Bank Holiday.

Aurora’s eyes were on her, she knew; through her peripheral vision as she tried desperately to cling to her focus on whatever episode of Tiger King this was.

When Tayce finally met her gaze, she averted it, turning her face to the window opposite them. Almost … playfully.

So Tayce looked back at the TV screen, but Aurora’s hand squeezed at hers, thumb in her palm pressing right in the centre, the pressure somehow travelling all the way to her gut. Tayce turned back to her, and this time Aurora did not look away.

“God, you’re gorgeous.”

Aurora looked at her through her eyelashes, lips parted in a smirk, curiously searching Tayce with her gaze as if wondering what her next move would be.

Tayce blinked incredulously. “Me? Like this? What do you mean, I’m gorgeous? Have you seen yourself?”

“And that accent, oh my days -“

“Go to Newport, we all sound like this.”

But the wine was hitting hard now and oh god lockdown is so fucking lonely and Tayce’s feet on the floor suddenly felt unsteady and Aurora was so fucking close to her on the sofa -

——

Once the hangover was gone, the memory of rest of the night felt like a dream, or maybe a nightmare. Tayce wasn’t entirely sure when she’d gone back to her flat, but she had, long before night had fully fallen and long after she was sure the burgeoning friendship she was finally making with someone lay in tatters two floors up from her.

The wine had washed away the strength she’d had, leaving her raw and vulnerable, and all the affection that had been growing since Aurora had first held her bubbled and burst into life. And Aurora must have felt the same magnetic pull, drawing them together across the sofa, nail marks still present in Tayce’s back that she could see in the mirror, a bruise forming on Tayce’s collarbone as Aurora had dipped a little lower. 

It had been Tayce who had halted it - not because she hadn’t wanted to, but because she couldn’t decipher how much of this was affection and how much of this was just two lonely people, starved of company, starved of normality, seeking and clinging to it in any form.

And now it was the following day, and Tayce still didn’t know.

The group call at the end of the day was interesting. She stretched over the back of the sofa in her living room to grab her water, and that must have been enough to flash a sliver of skin. 

“What’s that?” Lawrence asked loudly, prompting everyone else to go quiet. “Tayce? What’s that on your chest, hmm?”

“I didn’t see anything.”

“You’re not wearing your glasses, Ginny, you can’t see shit. What’s that on your chest? Why d’you have a bruise there?”

“Hi!” Ellie’s voice as she joined the call unexpectedly saved Tayce any further embarrassment; everyone shrieked when she came on, having missed the last two zoom calls following her move. “Thank God my internet is working now, I’ve missed all your faces!”

Tayce silently thanked Ellie’s timing and contentedly listened to the rest of them as they chatted about everything and nothing that they’d all missed. All of them were there; even Cherry showed up about twenty minutes in to wave at them and blow them kisses, her face even more pallid than before; before ducking back out to go to bed. 

Only Veronica was still missing.

“She’s been messaging me,” Tia explained, “and she said she’s feeling a bit better, but since she got furloughed, she’s feeling like there’s no point getting out of bed or getting ready because there’s nowhere to go.”

“Send her some love,” Tayce said, but Tia snorted.

“You send her it! She’s gonna feel better if she knows we all miss her.”

It was true though, Tayce realised after they all disconnected. They all seemed to be drifting apart, no more energy to continue with these online gatherings, even though there were so many virtual meetup groups and apps that there almost seemed to be no excuse now.

She looked back through her phone messages. She hadn’t messaged Veronica since early April, taking her silence as a sign that she wanted to be left alone; but what if it wasn’t? Veronica was a closed fist, everyone knew that. And Tayce’s brother? Again, early April, and a quick call the week after for her niece’s birthday. 

Lockdown, and self-isolation, seemed to be one and the same. 

So Tayce spent the rest of the afternoon sending messages to everyone she had neglected since then. Maybe they would reply, and maybe they wouldn’t - but there was no harm in reaching out, no negative consequences. 

By the end of the day, she was fielding messages back and forth from everyone she thought she’d lost through lockdown, the grey cloud over her head starting to lift, the fuzzy feeling disappearing and clarity settling in. She felt light, lighter than she had in weeks; and warm as the summery days they were getting in this late-May spring.

Towards the end of the day, she got a message back from Veronica at last.

Veronica: I’m doing ok. I got up and went for a walk today just to the park and back. It’s really nice although my hay fever sucks. Thanks for checking in on me i appreciate it x  Veronica: Oh also Tia said you had a hickey on the group call haha tell me what her name is x

Tayce was surprised to realise she was grinning at the phone as she read Veronica’s message, her fingers stroking the mark on her collarbone as if to savour the vivid image that it sparked in her head.

——

It was three days after their drunken kiss on the sofa that Tayce had another letter through the door. The same red glittery pen, the same scrawl, but the writing a little smaller as if Aurora wanted to diminish herself.

‘Hi Tayce. I’m really sorry if i came on too strong this week. Can we go back to friends? Want to hang out tonight, bubble bud? Aurora xx’

Tayce swallowed down the part of her that immediately rose up and cried that she … didn’t want to just be friends. 

Then it hit her.

God. I only met this girl properly this month. What’s wrong with me?

But she replied and immediately started clearing the house. 

She put the pile of Viv’s birthday cards and presents from the hallway floor into a cupboard under the sink, giving it the middle finger again; put the six-weeks worth of laundry on to wash; cleaned all the dishes; and dragged the hoover out of the tiny airing cupboard and got to work on the carpets. The hard floors she swept, and carried the bin bags out to the communal bins, all before midday.

“Who needs Joe Wicks workouts?” She muttered to herself, panting, as she tugged some marigolds over her hands to sort out the rest of the kitchen. 

By the time it was six, and time for Aurora to arrive, Tayce thought the house looked much better, and honestly, she felt much better too. The little spring clean she’d given the place had cleared a little clutter from her head as well. 

It’s nothing to worry about. She’d just coming over for food and -

Tayce grimaced as she realised she hadn’t thought of what to do for food. She thought back to the beans on toast she’d had at four and kicked herself for not thinking of that. Dominos was still delivering, so she brought up the app and busied herself looking through the list of pizzas.

Aurora hadn’t arrived by ten past six, and Tayce started to worry.

Maybe she’s changed her mind.

But Tayce refused to let that thought take any root. She looked at the clock, which of course seemed to slow down from having eyes on it, and firmly told herself that she would message Aurora at quarter past if she wasn’t here before.

With a minute to spare, Aurora turned up, grinning merrily and waving the bottle of rose in Tayce’s face.

“Hey bubble bud! Sorry I’m late, well I’m always late, sorry in advance if you expect me on time for anything!” Aurora took a step inside and her jaw dropped. “Wow, your place is well nice!”

“Thanks,” Tayce grinned, although she wasn’t sure what Aurora was looking at. Tayce wasn’t allowed anything on the walls from what her landlord said, but Aurora wouldn’t stay still - checking out the titles of the handful of CDs Tayce had brought down to London with her; scanning a nail along the books on the shelf above the TV.

“It’s nice to hold a book sometimes,” Tayce shrugged, “rather than just read it on the kindle app.”

When Aurora got to the kitchen, Tayce cringed. She’d have to confess.

“I haven’t got in anything to eat. Only - only some bread.”

“And pot noodles,” Aurora added, opening a cupboard and helping herself to the contents as if she’d lived here her whole life.

“And pot - oh, are you thinking, maybe …”

“No way!” Aurora slammed the cupboard door and grabbed her keys again. “Be right back!”

Ten minutes later and Tayce was at the hob over the oven with Aurora, dicing onions while she cut up a red pepper, mince that Aurora had grabbed from her own fridge was out and ready to go in too.

“I needed to use that up anyway,” she shrugged. “Please tell me you don’t just eat bread and pot noodles, Tayce, please. I need to give you a cooking crash course if you do! Didn’t you learn to cook at uni? Or didn’t you do much cooking before you went? Oh my days - no fry the onion off first, with the garlic - I’ll chop the mushrooms, Jesus Christ pot noodles …”

“I know how to cook, give me some credit!” Tayce murmured, but she couldn’t stop smiling. “I just haven’t been to the shop yet, it’s been a long week.”

Aurora closed her eyes and hummed in appreciation. “Just keep talking to me, please.”

“What about?”

“Anything! Your life, your family - I don’t know, house prices, I don’t care - but that accent, ugh -“ Aurora shivered.

“Yours is cute, too,” Tayce smirked.

Aurora looked at her reproachfully. “You’re lying.”

“Yeah, I am.”

It was no use. The air was full of electricity, static around them, and before Tayce knew what was happening, suddenly they were kissing again, this time stone-cold sober, while the onions burned shadows into the bottom of the pan.

——

Viv gave her notice on the flat at the start of June. 

“I just can’t afford to live here anymore,” she explained, sighing, when she got back and started to pack up everything in her room. “I’m gonna see if I can get some work back home.”

Tayce was numb, although she knew Viv didn’t mean it personally. It wasn’t her fault that she’d been made redundant straight after the lockdown ended, and it made sense that she wanted to be near her family. It was now four months since Tayce had seen hers, and she missed them every day, although she had been sticking religiously to her new routine of calling her parents every Saturday night and her brother’s family every Sunday afternoon. 

“I’m sorry that’s putting you in a tight spot, Tayce,” Viv muttered, hugging her, and Tayce hugged her back.

“Can’t be helped,” Tayce replied, which was all she could think to respond with that wasn’t an inarticulate growl in frustration.

Viv was adamant she would pay her final month’s rent, and pay her half the utilities even though she wasn’t there. But she had to go home.

“How was your move?” Tayce asked Ellie on the next group call on zoom.

“Shite,” Ellie replied, “but partly because we struggled finding someone to move us. There’s plenty of places around, plenty of places to rent and stuff, because everyone’s moved back to where they came from.”

“You’ll find somewhere else to live, bab,” Ginny murmured in a soothing voice to Tayce, stroking the side of the laptop screen as she liked to do to show affection now that she couldn’t hug anyone. 

“I know,” Tayce sighed. “It’s just a pain in the arse.”

She wasted no time. One of the spare room websites was always open in the background, and she was refreshing, looking maybe a little further out from central London to see if anywhere was cheaper, but nowhere was.

Then she spotted the dot in her own block of flats, and clicked the advert.

That’s - that’s Aurora’s flat.

Now she remembered. Aurora had mentioned something about her housemate moving out! It must now be official. 

She read through the advert - how was it £50 cheaper than what she was already paying? - and looked at the contact name for the housemate, and there it was in black and white pixels: Aurora Martin, use form below.

Grabbing a piece of notebook paper - one of the last bits left, she’d been ripping them all out to write to Aurora - she penned a letter, one of what might well be the last ones, and jogged upstairs to post it through her letterbox.

The response came back to her in less than an hour, a new record for Aurora.

‘Tayce! I’d love it if you wanted to move in here! OMG. My landlord will want references from yours, but if you can get them quick then he can approve you really fast, he’s working from home. OMG you made my day. Come up at 7pm xx’

“Work contacted me today too,” Aurora beamed as she settled with Tayce on the sofa. “They want me to start back next week! Can’t wait. Need to get that coin again now! I mean, I’m dead grateful, you know, that I still have my job and I was on furlough so the government paid most of my wages, but it will be nice to have the full package again!”

“What is it you do again?” Tayce asked.

“Oh - I work as a fashion buyer. But because fashion’s kind of stopped right now, most of the designers are shut. Reopening now, especially the ones in mainland Europe! Can’t wait to be on the phone to them all again.”

“Wait. You speak to designers in other countries?”

Aurora nodded. “I speak French and Spanish.”

“You -“ Tayce was dazed. “I didn’t know that!”

“Well why would you? I mean you’ve only known me a couple of months!” Aurora laughed, and leaned back closer to Tayce, her perfume overwhelmingly sweet in the air. “You’re not gonna know everything about me yet, bubble bud.”

“No,” Tayce purred, “but I can’t wait to find out.”

——

By the Monday after the move, early July, Tayce was all set up to go. She’d moved the bed into the corner as she liked it, arranged her books into a rainbow as she liked them, and unfurled the posters she’d been unable to hang in her last flat, mostly punk bands that she liked, Bimini’s band’s poster, and the noticeboard with all the tickets tacked to it of all the gigs she’d been to. The vanity with the mirror that she’d brought from home fitted perfectly next to the window so she could do her makeup with natural light; and it was large enough for her work setup, which was where she was now.

The flat layout was almost identical to the one she’d just left, and the room was the same one - Aurora having the slightly bigger room - but it felt a lot more comforting, knowing she wasn’t alone here any more, knowing she had a little more freedom in decorations, and knowing that the hollow feeling in her chest was starting to slow down for good.

She turned off her work laptop at five as normal, which was when Aurora came in. Tayce pulled her in, giving her a peck on the lips. 

“They’re gonna love you, I promise.”

Aurora just made a moan in the back of her throat and put her face in her hands, shrinking away from the vanity.

Tayce turned on her personal laptop, logging into zoom and connecting to the group chat. Her monthly uni call was set to half four today for some reason, and everyone else was already all there.

“Tayce! We wondered where you’d got to!”

It was Veronica’s voice, and Veronica’s face was in the top left. She still looked a little tired, and the shirt she was wearing looked suspiciously like a pyjama top, but she was here with them all, and this was a big step for her.

Tayce beamed at her. “So good to see you!”

“The move went alright then, bab?” Ginny asked.

Tayce nodded. “And there’s someone you should meet.” She pulled Aurora into frame, who still looked uncharacteristically shy for a moment before waving at the people on the screen. “This is Aurora.”

“Aurora!” Tia squeaked. “Like the princess!”

Aurora rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

“So we’ve got Rory and Ronni here together at last!” Lawrence exclaimed, while Veronica gave the camera two fingers.

But Tayce just grinned at her friends on the screen, far apart but together in this strange way. Aurora’s nails dug into her shoulder, still a little nervous, but even that was fading as she got more comfortable. 

Aurora had been right - the city was just a lot of bricks in intricate patterns without someone in it that made it a home. 

And this just might be becoming one.

[shanastoryteller]

OK SO

i’ve gotten a number of concerned/relieved messages (none that were rude or demanding! you’re all lovely as usual) about my writing progress reports, or lack thereof, because i once said that if i wasn’t writing regularly something was seriously wrong and a lot of you took that to heart, and i wasn’t going to say anything but tbh i feel bad for worrying some of you

the past five weeks i’ve been working on a personal writing project. i was originally only planning to take 3 weeks to do it, but then my department had furloughs and it stretched it to 5 because i was so busy/stressed (things have mostly gotten into a new rhythm at work, yay!)

the reason i didn’t tell you guys/there was no progress reports is because it’s not something that i’ll be publishing online, and honestly it just feels mean to tell you about a story that you won’t be able to read

but i’ve been writing pretty much the same amount as normal, it just hasn’t been stuff for here, which is why it looked like i’d just stopped. but everything is fine! i’m fine! you can still probably assume that if i tell you i’m just straight up not writing anything then something disastrous has happened! 

sorry to anyone who was concerned! thank you for all the messages! you’re all very sweet <3 but we’re back to our regularly scheduled programming now! 

i’ll probably switch back and forth between untamed one shot and siat, and then it will just be the normal rotation again :)

[mashmaiden]

Hi! I haven’t really been able to catch up on the last season, so I was wondering if I could get like a synopsis? Just the major key points of the plot of NCIS LA season 12? Thanks!

First up - lots of Russians. The premiere began with Nell getting a message from Hetty and returning to NCIS to “temporarily” fill the role of Operations Manager. This was needed because a Russian bomber was in US airspace and was a potential threat. The team reached out to Arkady for any information he had - he pointed them toward a source, Zasha. They get the Russians, no harm done with the plane. Anna is back, but takes off on a volunteer trip while figuring out the next step in her career, but not really. Later (12x11), Callen goes to talk to one of the Russian pilots (in custody), and himself gets accused of being a Russian double agent. Zasha nearly kills the Russian Captain, but we find out Callen has been working with Zasha for information, and so she tried her hardest not to kill him. Callen is also being tailed, by yet MORE Russians - they find out Anna is with them. They’re searching for Katya. Katya kidnaps Joelle, and wants to exchange her for Anna. Zasha reports Katya is still in Russia, and her dirty work is being done by other associates. Exchange is made, Anna is then rescued, Joelle loses a finger and her leg. A longtime recurring favorite dies after pushing Deeks out of the path of a slew of bullets.

On the Densi front - Deeks was furloughed from LAPD and then NCIS cut the liaison position entirely. While too old for FLETC, Hetty gets him in, and he comes out an Investigator (how that differs from a Special Agent, they have still not explained). A creepy bad guy Kensi put away in her brand new agent days manipulates the team and gets released from prison, and is very vocal about his wishes to capture and do awful things to Kensi.  Kensi and Deeks are also trying to have a baby and to buy a house (and may be selling the bar). Kensi is undergoing fertility treatments to aid in the attempt to get pregnant. 

Sam is dealing with his daughter Kam a lot this season. Kam is in her senior year of high school and had dreamed of going (and was accepted) to Annapolis for college. However, she no longer wants to go there, to Sam’s surprise. Sam also tried to get her to meet his girlfriend Katherine, and Kam awkwardly is like “heck no”. Kam has been spending a lot of time participating in student activism. This gets her kidnapped and the team rescues her. 

Nell and Eric - Nell is brought back to NCIS by a random phone call from Hetty who is who-knows-where. She is coerced into filling in Hetty’s spot, against her wishes. She does well in the role, but she feels inadequate to do Hetty’s job. Beale has left NCIS in wake of becoming a multi-millionaire from the technology he developed when he was in San Francisco. After giving away a large portion of his new money, he comes back as a “tech consultant”, upgrading Kaleidoscope and other tech systems NCIS uses. Kilbride has asked Nell to consider taking on Hetty's position permanently.

Hetty is.... on another mission... without telling anyone where she is (You'd think she would've learned by now...)? She's popped in for a few video calls and an email tip to help the team. I don't fully remember if they've mentioned what she might be doing? I thought they hinted at what she was doing was tied to the Katya thing, but don't quote me on that. The team might need to rescue her at some point? We've not had much indication.

Fatima and Rountree - are there?! lol. We haven't dug too deep on either of them. Rountree is officially NCIS now, and we've learned a little about Fatima's acting days (which was first mentioned in Season 10).

I think that just about sums it up? It's been an interesting season - with 2 different 3-episode arcs. Episodes 8, 9, and 10 take place over three consecutive days (January 10-12), and episodes 12 thru 14 take place over a continuous 3 days as well (Feb 28 - March 2). Not sure where in the timeline we will pick back up in this week's episode. Sorry this got so long! Feel free to ask anything else, but hope you get to catch up soon!

[ships4thesoul]

Top 10 Favorite Anime/Animation I watched this year

10. The Misfit of Demon King Academy

This was one of those “it’s new so imma watch it cuz i’m bored” shows but it turned out to be fairly decent. The show was particularly amusing with the magic and completely OP main which is why it made my top 10 for this year.

9.Nil Admirari no Tenbin

When it comes to reverse harem’s, this is a good one! This is adapted from an otome game so if you want to get with all the guys, you can ;). From all the male lead choices I prefer Akira, however it is on my top ten for it’s sheer ability to make me melt with all these sexy 2D men!

8. Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba

I really thought that Demon Slayer, especially with it’s AMAZING animation and story that it’d be lower on the numbered list, however, despite it’s incredible everything I just found the other ones on my list to be more in the forefront of my mind. it is still an AMAZING anime and if you haven’t seen it (come on, who hasn’t?!), I highly recommend it!

7.  That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime

I was suprised when I was thinking of my top anime watched of this year that my mind went so quickly to Slime. It’s my fiance’s favorite anime currently but I found that it was a generally feel good anime with an OP mc. It’s one of those animes you can watch without getting heartburn/be fearful for really bad things happening, which was a breath of fresh air for me (a lot of the time I like watching things that rip my soul out lol).

6. Tower of God

Oookay...Tower of God was sooo good. The animation is a bit rough for the first few episodes but, it being a Webtoon first, I can see why I liked it so much. The story is very ‘hunger games’, and I love that vibe being put into an anime. There will undoubtedly be more of this series in the future (the webtoon is extremely long, to which i don’t have the fortitude to start ^_^’‘) and I can’t wait to see more of it. Also, Bam x Khun ship gives me life.

5. The Millionaire Detective: Balance Unlimited

This anime came out of no where for me! I saw some posts on tumblr of a sexy slicked-back-hair guy and bing-bam-boom, i watched each episode the day it came out. I was hooked and not just cuz I ship both the lead boys together (i mean, kinda a little but..*ahem*) but it gave me the fix I needed for an investigative anime that I’ve been looking for for a while now. 

4. Castlevania (Season 3)

Being incredibly impressed by the first 2 season, it’s no surprise this is number 4 for me. It just got better and better, animation and writing. I cannot wait for the next season! Not to mention that Lenore x Hector ship was all kinds-a spicy.

3. Kaguya-sama: Love is War (Season 2)

Number 3 and for good reason. It has comedy, romance, slapstick, and general fun-time atmosphere that anyone can watch and be entertained. I cannot wait for another season and OVA! It definitely kept the COVID blues away while I was stuck inside.

2. She-Ra & The Princesses of Power (All 5 seasons)

I just recently watched She-Ra on recommendation of @tenkinos​ and it did not disappoint which is why it was #2 spot. A bit quirky at times (Seahawk) and angsty (Catra), and painstakingly stubborn and brave (Adora), every character had something to offer and I love that in any animated show. It’s definitely a Netflix show to remember and watch if you haven’t already.

1. Violet Evergarden Movie: Eternity and the Auto Memory Doll

The very best i’ve seen this year has GOT to be Violet Evergarden movie. The animation is like nothing I’ve ever seen and there’s such subtle beauty in everything that’s drawn and written that it was no competition for me. Eventhough this particular movie came out in 2019, I watched it in 2020. I haven’t seen the NEW NEW one yet, okay... ^_^’

***There were certainly MANY anime/shows that I watched this year (being in COVID furlough from my job for the better part of it), so here are some other mentions that were also very very good but I didn’t put them on the top 10 for ‘technical’ reasons b/c I watched them before 2020 or they just weren’t enough to make the list for me. ^_^’

Jujutsu Kaisen (currently watching and it is phenomenal)

Cautious Hero: The Hero Is Overpowered but Overly Cautious

The Dragon Prince (Season 3)

Kakegurui

Dragon’s Dogma