#i know its sudden when i just revamped my whole blog

[wasntmj]

moving mj to a multimuse ♡

[trashytoastboi]

~🍞Toasty update🍞~

I quite enjoy doing these little updates now and then. In a sense I feel it connects me a little closer to my followers and reminds peeps that a living toast person exists outside of the confines of this patch of internet.

Recently I've been doing a few polls and have some plans to add. I'm quite excited for the future. Along with adding more fandoms to my writing list, opening ask box again, as well as opening my commissions.

I'm now proceeding with somewhat of update and vent, if that is not your jam you're free to scroll on by🍀

So in the update aspect of things::

I'm planning a rather large writing event that will span over 2 weeks

I'm working on the backlog and have a few things ready to be posted. All the current requests will be answered

I'm opening up my commissions

Updating Fandom list with new fandoms to write for

Ask box will be opened again

Updating masterlists and revamping the blog style

Working on easier navigation

Warning - Vent ahead: Might get a bit rambling and sad.

Life has been... otherwise as of late.

I had to bid a very sudden and devastating goodbye to the closest person to me. In light of their passing, life itself flipped on its head. One never realizes the overwhelming physical (and metaphorical) void when losing someone you've lived with your whole life. A lot of things seem strange, and foreign. Since I was a bun in the oven, there was never a moment where they had not been there for me. The world feels a little weirder, and dull without them.

The home is now just an empty house. Quiet and too big for just me. It lacks the usual sounds and presence, the little annoyances and traces.

I am in the process of embarking on a new adventure, moving to a new place. Me and my two cats are under so much change it's terrifying. Though in some ways under the nerves and fear lays hope and excitement in light of the new venture.

I'll be balancing my studies, part time jobs and trying to make the time to write. As I mentioned before I'll be opening commissions as well since they do contribute towards my living expenses.

My little closing message for everyone.

No one is ever ready for this kind of change, or loss. Let the people you love know your appreciation, have a little more patience, make a little more time. Rethink hurtful words. They will surface in painful memory and you will regret a lot. Give them a hug, and cherish the precious people in your life. Answer the calls and messages, don't fall into the complacency of "There's always later/next time/tomorrow."

That is all from this toasty boi, I'm a soggy slice right now but I'll bounce back again.

[jonathanslms]

Here's what I missed on ! Tumblr !

It's pretty weird to return to this site after so long. (I'm not exactly a "Twitter refugee" as they seem to be called lmao, more like someone who, because of the whole Twitter stuff, realised that there are still people on Tumblr? And apparently the site stopped their weird filtering/post banning system bc they now allow porn again? Anyway,) I don't remember when I was last active on Tumblr because I deleted my old blog some years ago, but if I had to guess I was probably active from around 2013 to 2015/16 at the latest? And boy, there's so much new stuff...

Firstly, the quality and functionality of themes seems much higher? Maybe that's just because I'm older now, but there are just so many original and innovative themes and pages that, like, are so interactive?? And such a broad variety as well!!!

Adding on to that: Javascript is sort of forbidden?? The work-around is pretty fast and easy (just ask support for permission basically), but still, that sucks lol.

Then there's the whole "you can have an account but no actual blog"-thing?? Idk if I really like that. A lot of people seem to use the site like that, so it's apparently at least somewhat popular. But as a Tumblr-conservative (as in conservative about Tumblr, not a conservative on Tumblr) I must say that having a blog and customizing it was sort of the whole Unique Selling Point of the site, so... interesting choice. (As long as that's still possible I'm still happy either way, I think)

The whole Dashboard experience in general is just so different now. For one, there are ads? I'm not a fan of ads (shocking opinion, I know) and I'm sure had they done it right Tumblr could have become like Ao3 and not even needed them. Still, I don't mind them too much (haha certainly not bc I use adblock :) idk what that is, sounds very morally wrong to me) and I read somewhere that the premium version is only 40€/year, which isn't a lot a lot, but still unfortunate.

I can't even tell which features are new and which aren't most of the time (except for the replying to posts? and THE CHAT?? now that there is one I can't help but wonder why there wasn't one from the start?). I think there's a lot of stuff Tumblr implemented that used to only be possible through xkit before.

Speaking of which: xkit! There's a new version - xkit rewritten - and it's incredible. I didn't even think about re-installing xkit until I stumbled upon a post that mentioned it. Now that I am aware of its existence again, god have I missed it. Being properly on Tumblr without it just isn't the same, man...

Pretty sure the search and follow tags/trending/etcetc stuff is completely revamped as well, but I don't think I used that very often back then anyway. Once I followed a big chunk of blogs I just found new ones through snowballing.

The last thing I can think of that noticably threw me off was the slang? Like wtf is a blorbo? (I actually think I get that one now) What are those other scrinkly, scrumblo, beedy weeby words? Why do I feel several generations older all of a sudden? I can feel the immediate and visceral impulse of disgruntled rejection welling up inside me everytime I see people use any new slang word (or meme, looking at you old scorsese movie that doesn't exist) whose invention I wasn't there for. (please if you've been (back) here for a while, feel free to educate me on the new tumblr etiquette, memes and slang words, I'm curious, I wanna know)

Though that being said, the overall vibes have not changed much. It is still a site that embraces its nerdy lameness and unnecessarily deep deep-dives into ANYTHING. And after the last few months to years of seeing people attacking anyone and anything, and feeling angry/depressed every time I spent some time on my social media site of choice, I think this is a very nice change of pace.

[jtrbluv]

die for you | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: angst, songfic

word count: 3.4k

rating: PG-13

warnings: intoxication, harassment, fighting

you're scared to be lonely 'specially in the night i'm scared that i'll miss you happens every time 

song: die for you-the weeknd

exes!au

A/N: hi! this is a revamp of the very first fic i’ve ever written on this blog. i decided to do this because i am revamping and scrapping my original idea of a songfic overall! if you’ve been on my blog before or if you haven’t, i originally wrote songfics so that the storyline would flow along with the lyrics of the song which i realized soon thereafter that it was impossible because we all read at different speeds and it greatly hindered the creative process in general. now i decided to just solely come up with stories out of inspiration of songs. i highly recommend listening to the song while reading! 

The pungent yet all too familiar liquid burns against the back of your throat as you feel it gushing deeper into your system. Absentmindedly, you slam the shotglass back onto the wooden counter, earning a disconcerted look from the bartender that had been serving you for the past hour and a half. You lick the remaining alcohol off of your lips, relishing in the way the fluid tasted against your tongue.

The alcohol buzzed in your system, leaving you in a piddling daze as you rest your cheek in the palm of your left hand. Your remaining hand fiddled with the shot glass, face contorting into a deep glower at the empty contents, hoping that the alcohol would replenish itself without you having to empty your wallet. You avert your eyes to behind the counter, eyeing the different taps they had in store along with the selection behind the glass cabinet. The bartender that had been supplying you all night came back into your periphery, noticing the familiar thick streaks of velvety red that resided beside his natural onyx locks. He was scrubbing the counter a few feet away from you, the sleeves of his white button-up rolled up to his forearms. What was his name again? Sam? John?

You obnoxiously clear your throat causing him to look up from what he was doing, “Can I get another shot?”

“I know I might be a bartender and all, but don’t you think you should slow down a bit?” he asks, brows furrowed in both bewilderment and concern. His nametag read San.

You toss your eyes back in irritation at his words, “I’ve done this before, I think I know my limits.”

He presses his lips into a thin line before sighing out in defeat, grabbing the near-empty bottle behind him as he fills up your glass back up to your satisfaction.

“See that wasn’t so hard, was it?” you indecently spit back just as he tips off the glass. He scoffs at your remark, setting the bottle back on the counter behind as he goes back to his task.

You down the glass in one swig, nose scrunching at the bitter taste on your tongue and the stinging sensation that accompanied it as it traveled down your throat once more. You return once again to your state of solitude and melancholy. This time you twist around in your seat, eyes trailing to the whatever was beyond the door of the bar. The building itself was located in a generally busy area of the city, made obvious by the frequent passerbys and occasional onlookers that would peek in through the window.

The soft glow of the lights that were emitting from neighboring buildings magnified the growing buzz of alcohol in your system as they began to appear hazy. It had an endearing and seemingly familiar twinkle them which made you visualize the irises of a boy who once had your heart. Oh, how you wished to be able to see him smile again—the way his eyes would morph into two crescent moons accentuated by the whisker-like wrinkles that would etch themselves onto his temples. His mouth would stretch into a wide D-shaped curve, his slightly larger front teeth coming into view the more you made him laugh. The warmth that would encompass your whole body when he would wrap his muscular arms around your much smaller frame—he made you feel protected, at ease, at home. The feeling of the soft, pillowy flesh of his lips against your own—pigmented by the strawberry chapstick he loved so goddamn much because he said it tasted like candy. The vision is short-lived when the deep timbre of someone’s voice pulls you out of your daze.

“You seem to be having a lot of fun by yourself,” he whispers into your ear, his breath fanning over your cheek as he stands a little, actually a lot closer than you’d like.

Disgusted at his mere presence you send a scowl his way while moving to another seat to create more distance. Not deterred in the slightest, he slides into the seat next to you—using his foot to turn your chair so you’d be facing him.

You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive. A coy smirk adorned his well-made features as he intently stared back at you, wanting more after you had made obvious that you didn’t. The honey-like hue of his irises juxtaposed the darkness of the glare he was giving you. He wore a form-fitting black button-up—the first few buttons unhinged at the top on purpose to show off the silver chain that adorned his collarbones. The leather jacket he wore over it accentuating the curves of his muscles. You tear your focus away from him, turning back to the original position of your chair so you’d be facing behind the counter.

“Playing hard to get I see, well I’m always in for a good game,” he pretentiously states, the smirk widening onto his features as he inches closer to you.

“Really, you couldn’t think of anything better than that,” you say as a giggle involuntarily erupts from your throat. His smirk morphs into a grimace of disdain at your reaction. The grin on your lips slowly dissipates when you take a glance at his overcast features.

“Sorry, I’m not in the mood for company,” you deadpan, taking the shotglass in your hand as you scanned behind the counter to look for the bartender, hoping to exchange your tiny glass for a much bigger one.

His hand come in contact with your own, fingers wrapping around the glass and pulling it out of your reach, “I didn’t ask for your permission.”

Your breath hitches as you gasp in shock at his sudden action, taken aback by his intrusiveness. You slide out of the chair you were sitting in—the buzz of the alcohol abruptly fleeting your body out of pure abhorrence of the sleazy man standing in front of you.

“I refuse to deal with this type of bullshit right now and people like you.”

You hastily grab your wallet out of your purse, digging to find a reasonable tip to give the bartender who undeservingly had the displeasure of serving you for the past two hours now. Setting the money down on the counter next to San, you give him an apologetic smile to hopefully make up for the migraine-inducing irritation you’ve most likely given him. He nods in return with a small grin, taking the money and slipping it into the back pocket of his jeans while leaving the counter to start bussing empty tables.  

Turning on your heel, your senses set straight on leaving the bar and going back to the comforts of your bed. As you begin to make your way out the door, a hand snakes around your wrist, yanking you back and causing you to stumble over your own feet—eliciting a string of curses to spew from your lips. Your head rams into their rather toned chest, and as you detach yourself from their body you notice the thick fabric of their leather jacket and the glint of light coming from the silver chain resting on their exposed collarbones. You quickly put the pieces together, craning your neck upward to take a glimpse at the man’s face and recognizing that it was the imbecile who was still refusing to leave you alone. Out of instinct, you bring your hands up to where your head had just made contact with his chest and pushed him with as much force as you could muster. Alarmed, he staggers backwards, nearly tripping over the barstool that he was leaning against until he slams his hand on the counter to steady himself. You unknowingly take a few steps towards the door of the bar, keeping your eyes glued to the man in front of you. An inaudible noise leaves his lips as his focus shifts back towards you. Eyes narrowing as he recalibrates his focus, the knit in his brows as prominent as ever as his irises started to morph into a darker shade of ebony. The corner of his lip slowly starts to curl upward—your hand reaching out to grasp the wood of the doorframe on its own accord.

He swiftly pushes himself from the barstool, readjusting his clothes as he momentarily tears his focus away from you. Taking advantage of the few seconds, you whip your head around and take a quick glance outside and instinctively, you book it.

The wind howls and nips at your cheeks as you bolt down the street. The fabric of your jacket ripping against the currents of the wind as you weave in and out of city folk—most of their expressions painted with shock as they halt in their tracks and scurry aside as they start to notice you sprint full force down their direction.

A loud, discernable and gravelly “HEY!” erupts from what you would was the aforesaid man of the night. The echo of his footsteps and their increasing pace could be heard in rhythm with your own.You dismiss it almost immediately, continuing to shoulder others without apology and turning corners in hopes of losing him.

The longer you run—the more the adrenaline begins to seep out of your body—being replaced by fatigue along with the reality that your body was starting to cave. Your lungs start to burn and your throat becomes painfully dry, forcing you to have to take deep gulps before you flat out couldn’t breathe at all. The muscles in your calves and shins on fire and tensing underneath you reminding you that the last experience you ever had of running had come from high school P.E. class.

You whip your head around to survey the area behind you before darting around yet another corner and continuing your pursuit.

As you adjust your focus back to the streets in front of you, you collide into the chest of yet another man. You substantially knock him over, causing him to almost fall back but he picks up his feet from under him, regaining his stance while holding onto your forearms and you, unconsciously holding onto his for dear life as well.

While muttering inaudible apologies to the man, you begin dusting off your pants before reaching up to dust the fabric of his black hoodie. His hand wraps around your wrist as you start to do so. You freeze in your tracks. The action this time around is much more gentle, almost gingerly in a way. Your eyes trail to the slender fingers that wrapped around your wrist before moving to his face before finally settling into his eyes.  The hazy, twinkling specks of light all the more visible in his orbs.

“Y/N?-“

The sound of heavy, quickened footsteps pull you out of your trance. Before the man could finish his words, you yank him aside to the coincidentally located brick-walled alleyway. You couldn’t even consider it an alleyway—being just the perfect width to fit both of your bodies and deep enough to keep you both hidden from sight. On a whim, you motion him to stand in front of you so his body would encompass the opening. He had an all black hoodie and sweatpant ensemble going on, and you hoped that with the poor lighting you two would remain unnoticed.

You both remain there, silent and still. Your back pressed up against the brick wall, hands clutching onto the fabric of his hoodie while nestling your head into his chest. He simply stood there in bewilderment at the chain of events that had just occurred. He would have never imagined that your first encounter since your breakup would be like this.

He decides to break the silence first, “Y/N, is everything okay?”

“Um, well” you whisper back in response, finally detaching yourself from him, “it’s kind of a long story. I was at a bar and there was this creepy guy who just wouldn’t leave me alone,” you explain while peering over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, but can you please stay with me,” you quietly murmur while looking up at him, “for the time being, I mean. I think he’s still looking for me.”

He gets a small whiff of your alcohol-scented breath, but your expression and tone made it clear that you were sober for the most part. “Of course, I mean, did you really think I was just gonna leave you here?” he asks you while chuckling under his breath, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Before you could react to both his question and his actions, you detect the same gravelly voice that had caused you to land in this mess in the first place. Your eyes widen in fear— trailing to the aforementioned man standing in front of you. Jungkook notices your sudden change in expression and his eyes tread the same path—staring daggers into the man without delay as rage began to pulse through his veins.

He takes a step forward, one of his hands coming in contact with your body as he promptly motions you to move behind him.

“I’ll say this once, and I’ll say this nicely,” Jungkook begins, voice low—like subdued thunder, a tone you had never once heard come from his lips, “if you lay another hand on her, you are going to regret it. And I’ll make sure of it.” You could feel him quivering with anger beneath your fingertips and you could swear you could hear your own heart hammer against the walls of your chest.

The man smirks, not affected in the slightest at Jungkook’s words as he steps towards him. His arm writhes out of your grip as he slams his fist square into the nose of the man’s face. He stumbles back, wiping off the crimson red blood that began to trickle out of his nostrils. The smirk is quickly replaced with a smolder of rage and resentment—cocking his head to the side as he spits out more blood, still reeling from the previous hit before he lunges towards Jungkook, anger visibly spiking within him. You quickly sidestep as Jungkook’s back comes in contact with the brick wall, the wind visibly knocked out of him.

Overcome with both distress and rage, you run to the man’s back bringing your hand up to his face and clawing him in the eyes, disarming him. With your other free hand, you grab the flesh of his swollen nose, curling your fingers as much as you could—digging your fingernails and twisting the tendon. A guttural groan escapes his throat as he spirals towards you, pushing you into the pavement and kicking you in the ribs. The shrill scream you emit causes a wave of fury to stream through Jungkook’s bones—he surges towards the man, vigorously slamming into his body with full force right into the hood of a car. You hear the man’s head come in contact with the metal with a loud thump as his body crumbles to the ground. Jungkook’s body towered over his as the man desperately swung, arms flailing as the two wrestled on the cement.

Running on pure, unfiltered anger, Jungkook smashes his fist into the man’s jaw—the bone-shattering noise making you wince. The man ceases action as he lies there unconscious. Jungkook removes himself from the man, groaning in pain as he attempts to stand up. He sees you standing in front of him, streams of tears running down your cheeks—clutching the spot where the man had kicked you. Your eyes retract to his form, scurrying over to him as you carefully help him stand up. Wrapping his arm over your shoulder, you guide him as he limps towards the brick wall and leans against it. You cautiously slide out of his hold, kneeling down to the unconscious man and pressing two fingers to the crook of his neck—the detectable beats alerting you that his pulse was still intact. The sound of police sirens and red and blue flashing lights come into view as one officer gets down from his car. You briefly describe the situation starting from the altercation at the bar to the current disposition of it all—an ambulance taking him to the nearest hospital where he would later get arrested. You and Jungkook both reject their offer of taking you two to the hospital despite your pleas for Jungkook to go, considering the cuts and bruises that were littered across his face and neck. He assured them they were minor so they let you two go without further dispute.

“I’m driving you home. I don’t care what you say,” you huff out, one of his arms draped over your shoulder as you guided him into the passenger seat of his car. To your surprise, he relents and gives you a small smile while digging through his pocket for his keys.

The drive back to his apartment is fairly silent, yet comfortable nonetheless. You guide him the whole way to his apartment despite his own efforts to prove that he was okay before groaning involuntarily in pain. You finally reach his apartment, fishing for the keys in your pocket as you unlock the door, setting him on his couch. Recalling the layout of his apartment, you find a first aid kit in one of his cabinets and return to his side. You begin to lay out the contents of the kit out onto his coffee table, ripping open the package of antiseptic wipes before cleaning the cuts on his face. He grimaces, flinching at the sudden stinging sensation.

“Oh my god,” you flinch in sync with him, “sorry, I should’ve given you a warning,” you mutter apologetically.

“No, it’s okay,” he responds, giving you a reassuring smile. You bite your lip before continuing, more gently this time.

Your hands meekly drop to your sides as you let out a deep sigh, “Jungkook, I don’t even know what to say,” you murmur softly, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes, “I’m so sorry.”

He gingerly wipes a tear away with his thumb, “Don’t be. I would never let anyone hurt you Y/N, regardless of how you feel about me.”

“For a split second, I thought you killed the guy,” you say jokingly, causing a chuckle to leave both of your lips.

“I’d gladly both kill and die for you Y/N,” he states matter-of-factly, a small grin lacing his features.

You take a moment to process his words, thinking of what to reply with.

“Thinking back, it’s kinda ironic. How this all turned out,” you admit, thinking out loud.

“What do you mean?”

“Before he approached me in the bar, I actually happened to be thinking about you,” you confess, looking up at him to see his reaction.

“About me?”

“Yeah,” you huff out, diverting your gaze away from him, taking a brief moment to process the words you were about to say, “I miss you. I miss you a lot. And I miss what we had.”

Time and awareness had stopped in a collision of senses when his lips met yours. The coppery taste of his blood mixed with his strawberry chapstick is what you notice first—the taste lingering on your mouth. A wave of warmth spread throughout your body at the sudden contact—tingles running down your spine as you relished in the pure feeling of his lips being on yours again. It’s as if he leaves imprints every time his fingers come in contact with your skin, trailing your jaw before settling on your neck—fingers entangled slightly into your hair. Both of your lips moved together in accord—the all consuming, crashing tides of familiarity, longing and unspoken words that didn’t need to be voiced out loud to be known. It was all there. Mapped out. Clear as day. Vulnerable as ever.

Your lips detach, foreheads still in contact as he graces your vision with the sight of two crescent moons lacing his features. And in that moment you knew—the hazy, twinkling specks that consumed his eyes. They were undying. As undying as the stars that provided light for the dark abyss of the night sky. And as undying as the feelings you two had for one another.

-

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MASTERLIST

[kaosketches]

This post is going to be lost in the sea of the reblogs from my main blog anyway, but it’s a bit of a vent post more than anything.

I am feeling conflicted at the time I’m writing this.

“Why am just using this sideblog right now and not when I supposed to, back when I created it 5 years ago”

Well... 5 years ago, I was in another place of my life. and the last two years of college were... quite a piece of work for me :/. I thought I would have time to develop some ideas around, some concepts I had... and while I did stuff, college was draining my creativity around (OH, and I did stuff... but writing was, I guess, more therapeutic than drawing). I don’t know. I barely remember lots of things I was doing in 2013.

And I always said to myself “I will come back to this eventually”. If anything is to go by, when I was checking my art tag, I realized that there was a HUGE time space between 2013 and 2015 when I started to do things again (and I dumped lots of things in March 2015). Sure, this was also because I was out of college, I mean, sure.

And it’s been 3 years since.

What was the point of updating this blog if I didn’t have stuff I considered to be good back then... and why I waited too LONG to do this. WELL...

I’m very bad at procrastinating. And lots of stuff have been on my head since 2015 (tons of personal stuff that I have detailed before in many of my rant/vent posts in my main blog... I don’t want to drag them here). the “One day I will eventually do this” was a bit of an afterthought.

And then... a few months ago I thought of something that was “this is it!”.

I don’t know if my OCs saved me... but it seems like it is. 

The whole thing about Ellie and Riley... and my sudden thoughts of “this might work as a big project for me” kinda... remotivated me? to look back to my art content from the past 3 years and say “wait, why I’m holding these just in my main Tumblr blog?” I have been posting things also in Twitter (not as frequent as I want to, but I will go later on this), and then it came back to me “why I haven’t crossposting stuff in DA, too? why I haven’t been doing that in this side blog as well?”

Like, I know DeviantArt is a hellhole of its own that has its fair (very fair) side of infamy... but at the same time, I could have a different audience that I barely have here in Tumblr (okay, I admit it’s also hard... -and I do fanart of fandoms that are incredibly niche and mostly dead by now- and things there are also not quite as easy... their tagging system also sucks, tbh... as long as I mention a searchable term in the submission’s description as LEAST I can bypass that). I just... have (doing atm) to revamp my account a bit. Because my art gets drowned in a tons of others’ art posts in Tumblr (or after a time, I cannot bump them again w/o audience’s interest... again, did I mention that most of my fandoms are pretty much dead by now?)

And so, I also thought of this sideblog. I went to change its URL just in case (because brand recognition, I guess?) and use the previous one for another (still sorta related to this blog and my main, but I need to put order in stuff first). But, yes.

The plan is, after being up to date in both here and my DA account, is start crossposting stuff EVERYWHERE at the same time. Higher chances are that I will start posting my art here first (unless fandom appreciation weeks happen? that’s where I’d use my main one), then in Twitter, and finally in DA.

My It All Started with an Ice Cream Float project will have a blog of its own (not sure if sideblog... or revamping a different account that I barely use since 2012) when I finally march on that later this year. Maybe. I’m not sure, yet.

...I’m basically kicking myself because “why I never did this before” :)

The prospect of doing this in fb would be a chaos of its own, so I decided that on that part (because local recognition also needs to be built), the only thing possible I should DO that (if fb doesn’t go down either, lmao) is just a fan page for my project, and MAYBE posting my newer art pieces - both fanart and original. I am not going to crosspost my 2014-2018 stuff there again. I thought it may be easier reblogging these pieces, but  what a huge mistake was that on my part, lmao.

[stevenuniversallyreviews]

Episode 56: Love Letters

“Three’s a crowd.”

So, it turns out time passes in Beach City! Its residents aren’t in a Springfield Limbo where seasons change but ages stay the same, and this opens a whole new realm of possibilities to expand the ongoing narrative of Steven growing up by having him actually grow up. We really shouldn’t take this for granted, considering how easy it is for a cartoon to freeze characters (especially child characters) in time, and honestly my biggest initial takeaway from Love Letters is that it’s the first episode that deals with how the passage of time by itself, rather than a series of events like Steven’s adventures, affects the show and its characters. This is a show where Steven, Lars, and Sadie disappeared for a week and nobody seemed to notice, so yeah, it matters.

The reason time alone is a factor is because we focus on the all-but-forgotten Jamie the Mailman. After a cameo in Mirror Gem/Ocean Gem, Jamie disappears without a trace for thirty episodes. This isn’t remarkable for a side character, especially one whose only other appearance is the first scene of the third episode. Jamie may be sweet and funny in Cheeseburger Backpack, but on a show full of sweet and funny characters he was easily lost in the background.

Well, it turns out his absence for the latter half of Season 1 has an in-universe explanation, one that allows the show to hang a quick lampshade on the common trope of vanishing characters while reintroducing him to those of us that forgot he existed: Jamie was literally gone, looking for his big break in the bright lights and busy streets of the Sunflower State, the big KS itself, home of Dorothy Gale and the Rockin’ Chalkin’ Jayhawks, that’s right, Kansas.

I’m really glad he’s back! Jamie is similar to Ronaldo in his role as a background character and occasional lead whose cluelessness is played for laughs and occasional drama. Both are passionate about self-expression (Jamie through acting, Ronaldo through blogging and the occasional documentary) and show some skill at it, but think themselves masters. However, where Ronaldo fluctuates between funny and grating at the drop of a fedora, Jamie is a consistent force for entertainment; he never reaches the comedic highs of Ronaldo’s A-game, but we never suffer any lows.

The secret, I think, is that Jamie’s core kindness evokes empathy instead of annoyance when he goes off the rails. His silliness doesn’t hurt anyone, and in an episode where he could’ve turned bitter and nasty over romantic rejection, he handles it surprisingly well considering his maturity level in other regards. This reaction may be a thematic necessity to teach Steven and Connie and the audience a generic “honesty is good” lesson, but it sets the tone for Jamie’s fascinating ability to be self-important without being a jerk.

Jamie’s overacting always benefits from Eugene Cordero’s veteran comedy chops, but is amped up even further by Lamar Abrams and Hellen Jo’s delightful brand of hypersilliness (see: Steven and Garnet’s workout in Future Vision, Amethyst’s burial service in Watermelon Steven, all of Rising Tides, Crashing Skies). Jamie’s love letter is zany enough, but actually seeing him write it does wonders to enhance what could have been a simple letter-reading sequence. Even if Jamie didn’t literally write the letter this way, it’s a nice peek into his ridiculous self-image, complete with anime twinkles.

Steven and Connie are classic theatrical meddlers in a classic farce, where love letters gone awry and easily avoidable misunderstandings create melodramatic tension. It’s a nifty twist that they aren’t playing matchmakers despite their resemblance to middlemen like Don Pedro or Dolly Levi, but just want to spare Jamie’s feelings. And I love that Steven, a hero with a weakness for schmaltz, rejects the idea of Jamie and Garnet as a couple even before Garnet does, solidifying that neither the show nor our well-meaning but misguided kids are going in that direction.

(Love Letters also don’t drag out secret of who wrote “Garnet’s” response letter, which further subverts typical farce tropes but probably has more to do with the eleven minute runtime.)

As Jamie says, Steven and Connie are super cute. It’s nice to have them as supporting characters (albeit the characters with the most screen time); we get snippets of them just hanging out in most of their episodes, but this time it doesn’t contrast with more serious drama like Connie’s replacement by a doppelganger or the possible end of their friendship. This is the first full episode of the two kids just being kids since Winter Forecast (oh look, another Jo/Abrams episode), and it’s soon to be followed by Connie’s temporary indoctrination; heavy episodes like Full Disclosure and Sworn to the Sword may be great, but a respite is appreciated.

Fortunately, a calmer (if wackier) tone doesn’t mean Love Letters lacks good character moments. Connie gets a quiet display of her growing emotional intelligence in the back-to-back scenes of Jamie’s admission of multiple rejections and the rewrite of Garnet’s letter. In the first scene, after hearing all about Jamie’s emotionally vulnerable state, she sees no issue with handing him another rejection and has to be stopped by Steven; whether or not ripping off the bandage is the right course of action, Connie’s reaction shows a distinct lack of tact. But in the second scene, she’s the head writer of the revamped letter (using the power of torrid soap opera know-how); even if she and Steven are way off-track in terms of how romance works here, she understands the problem and wants to help.

Little slip-ups and corrections like these do a great job of showing how far Connie has come from Bubble Buddies without losing the realistic awkwardness that makes her so endearing. Her disadvantage to Steven on the emotional intelligence front also continues to even out their relationship, as she schools him in book smarts throughout the series and will soon become a far more capable tactical fighter to his natural talent, a la Katara and Aang. Just because Steven isn’t an idiot and Connie isn’t emotionless doesn’t mean their differences have to go away, and Love Letters is a great example of her lower-key foil duty in action.

Garnet is mostly great as the oblivious, then apathetic subject of Jamie’s affection. Her sexualized emergence from the sea is played for laughs thanks to over-the-top visual effects and Estelle’s exaggerated sultriness. Visually, while her introduction may evoke classic Birth of Venus imagery, the more amusing sight gag can be found in the, erm, interesting positioning of Jamie’s mailsack malebag mailbag as he’s filled with sudden lust:

But back to Garnet. Her instant and insistent dismissal of Jamie may be cold, but it’s fair and faithful to her character: Garnet is locked down on the relationship front, and we’ve seen how little she cares about the feelings of human strangers from her interactions with Kofi (and her general demeanor). She benefits from having little to do with Steven and Connie’s scheming, which makes her another victim of poor communication who gets fed up with what she perceives to be a pushy admirer instead of doubling down on her bluntness to a point that might make her seem mean; it also reinforces how important is to take the feelings of both people involved in a crush into account.

Even so, my biggest/only issue with Love Letters is her final conversation with Jamie, where she dismisses his infatuation as a performance. I guess I get that she’s trying to let him down easier than before and is putting things in a way he understands, but there’s a much better way to differentiate between love and a crush than essentially saying his crush is delusional. As someone who’s had crushes and has been in love, sure, the latter is strong enough to make the former look tame in retrospect. But that doesn’t make infatuation an act, and for a show that’s all about feelings, Steven Universe could do way better at explaining Garnet’s point of view without being condescending about someone’s emotions (especially the emotions of a young audience).

That said, Jamie’s response is somewhat true: local theater, at least, is really solid advice.

Future Vision!

Beyond local theater being in the future, Love Letters gets a nice resolution in Jamie insisting that he’s moved on in I Am My Mom. And then we get to see that, uh, nope, he’s still holding the torch as of Reunited.

Our introduction to Barb is a long time coming, and the fact that she knows Greg telegraphs their low-key and largely off-screen friendship.

If every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have inconsistencies…

Despite Garnet proclaiming that love at first sight doesn’t exist, The Answer more or less shows Ruby and Sapphire’s relationship to be just that. Maybe they spent more time on the surface getting to know each other than it seems, but as per its fairy tale nature, love springs up pretty much immediately. (And it’s great! But maybe don’t have that person be against the notion of instant love.)

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

I enjoy the goofiness here and the dedication to a farcical format for a theatrical character, and as I said, the acknowledgment that time is an actual factor for this show earns some points. But beyond not sticking the landing, and it’s honestly just a little too broad to be a favorite.

Top Fifteen

Steven and the Stevens

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

The Return

Jailbreak

Rose’s Scabbard

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Winter Forecast

On the Run

Warp Tour

Maximum Capacity

The Test

Ocean Gem

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Future Vision

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

No Thanks!

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