#idk do you like it?

[handsome-edvard]

Well, I did finally look into my WIP folders and the Don Judy fic I started in freaking 2022 was sitting there waiting for me like 👁️👄👁️ ma’am why would you leave me here for so long.

So here’s chapter one UNEDITED and ROUGH but finally freeeee (idk if I’ll finish this fic tbh).

~~~

Love Came With All That It Brings

The sky looks different where they’ve stopped for a break, a soft iridescent blue, fading into a gradient of lavender and pink which makes the alien moons more prominent where they seem to hang. To Don, they look as though they’ll tear through the atmosphere at any moment and fall on their heads. It wouldn’t be the craziest thing to happen today, a thought which birthes a sardonic smile on his face.

The sound of footsteps approaching tear his attention away from the unsettlingly beautiful sky. Judy sidles up to him but she does not meet his gaze.

“How’s he holding up?” Don asks, a part of him still reeling from Evan’s accident earlier.

If Judy is also shaken, her face betrays nothing. “He’s stable,” she answers. “I didn’t want to scare him but I don’t think he’ll walk again.” She draws a shaky breath and it rattles past her lips. “I really thought I could save him.”

“You did,” Don says. “He wouldn’t be alive right now if it wasn’t for you. Hey—” Finally, Judy’s eyes are his, and Don can see that this whole thing is a lot for her. Sure, she kept her cool with someone’s life on the line, like a real doctor, but the pressure must have been immense. Evan is her third patient, ever. “You did great, Dr. Robinson.”

The title seems to have the intended effect and Don sees a small, grateful smile settle on her lips. Victor Dhar may not see her as a doctor yet, but after today, Don would rather be with Judy in the event of a medical emergency. He can even get past her ‘anger issues’, though to her credit, she placed his nose cleanly back into place. A precise fix for a precise break.

“We should get him back,” Judy says. “I can treat him further and his brother will want to know what happened.”

Don agrees and inclines his head for Judy to follow him back to the Chariot. Evan is asleep for most of the ride back, yet Judy hardly leaves his side, diligently checking his vitals every so often. When bumps on the road jostle the patient awake, Don hears Judy speak softly to Evan, comforting him by distracting him from the pain and the heaviness of his fate.

It seems five degrees warmer out once they reach camp. Don helps transport Evan to a supply tent that officially becomes their new medic bay. He clears out a few pieces of heavy equipment to give Judy more space to work. Aiko is there to help setup the medical supplies and once there isn’t much left for him to do, Don figures it’s best if he keeps out of the way. Yet he finds himself lingering hesitantly at the entrance of the tent. It feels like he should stay but that is foolish, as he can’t actually help with any of this stuff.

“Don?” Judy calls, breaking his idleness. “We need to tell Evan’s brother and I need to find my mom.”

The look she gives him is clear enough. It’s partly why he hasn’t left the tent yet. Smith is out there still and Don isn’t quite confident Judy should be dealing with the dangerous fraudster with everything that’s happened to Evan. Another part of him wants to deal with Smith himself.

“I’ll handle it,” Don says. “Comm me if anything.”

Judy acknowledges him with a nod and Don departs. He finds Evan’s brother after practically going in circles all around camp, but of Maureen and Smith, there is no sign. By the time hunger prompts him to give up, it’s dark out. Most people have retreated to tents, vehicles, or the odd Jupiter. Don forages for rations and heads back to the medic bay. Something tells him the doctor hasn’t left her patient. He finds Judy almost exactly where he left her.

“Didn’t find your mom and there’s no sign of Smith either,” Don declares to make himself known. “I think your folks might be on a little excursion of their own. We’re down a Chariot.”

“Alright. Evan’s doing okay,” Judy replies, her eyes glued on the vitals. “I told his brother I’ll need to keep him here a few more days, until he fully stabilizes.”

“Did you tell him about the…?”

Judy turns to look at Don. She nods somewhat sadly. “I told Evan too. He said he can still surf with prosthetics.”

Don huffs somewhat mirthlessly. “Well think fast,” he says, and tosses Judy the food ration. “Have that before you end up being your own patient.”

“Thanks.” Judy walks past Don, sitting on the crates just outside the tent. The way her head turns slightly toward him is an open invitation, so he takes the spot beside her with an exaggerated groan. “You know, you saved Evan too today. Thank you for doing that.”

Don tears into the food ration and takes a bite of the sandwich which is mostly synthetic food. The moment Judy refers to is not lost on him. In fact, this whole day and the one before have been rollercoasters. It did not take him long to accept he has more in common with the Robinson than perhaps either one of them could see.

“I know I said some things about your smuggling,” Judy goes on after a minute, and Don partly wishes she hadn’t continued with that. “I still disapprove of it and of your… deal, but… I also think you’re a good man.”

He can’t help the laugh that surfaces. It’s not forced but he can’t explain it either. There is nothing funny here but it still flows, before ending abruptly. “You don’t know anything abou me, Judy.”

“Maybe,” she answers. “But I know no one else would have moved that tanker if you hadn’t. I also know you’re a big cry baby.”

Don turns to meet her eye. She is smiling, he can see it, and a part him thinks that even though she disapproves of what he stands for, they can still be friends. So he smiles too. She knows a lot more about him than most people in this large camp of survivors, which is just as well, seeing as it wouldn’t do for so many people to be able to get him to throw away a perfectly reasonable business deal, lose fuel, yet save a life.

Somehow, only Judy can do that and he’s not quite sure what to make of this realization he most certainly does not wish to have.

“That mean we’re friends again?” Don says.

“I guess we can skip to that part.”

Her teasing smiles forces him to break eye contact and happily finish his food. His chest feels warm and it’s nice. He tells himself it’s because he hasn’t actually got any friends, though John Robinson may be a contender.

“Well, if you want the real Don West saga,” he nearly bellows, “I suppose I could spare a few hours to indulge you. It all begins with the nuns at my primary school…”

When he looks, Judy is smiling, and that makes Don proud of himself.

Chapter 2 and 3

[some-pers0n]

I'm always entertained by people doing those "canon VS fanon" memes where both are misunderstanding characters to such a violent degree 'cause like

[12neonlit-stage]

you're allowed to discuss and work together, reblog for a higher sample size or something

You have 1 week, good luck!

[flame-shadow]

hey did you know??? that if you stop stretching and maintaining mobility in your body then it goes away?? things get tight and you can't move the way that you used to??? and when you decide to try getting a stretch routine going that the first week fucking sucks because you keep going 'damn i used to be able to do this no problem' and then you have to switch gears and be kind to yourself and just focus on getting better from here instead of berating yourself for dropping the good habits in the first place??? and your body never stops aging so you gotta keep taking care of it and sometimes you gotta take care of it extra in certain areas because of things that happened when you were younger and it's boring and sometimes hurts but it's so necessary???

i am yelling this at myself right now i am going through An Experience (trying to get into a routine of body maintenance again for my physical and mental health)

[littlelightfish]

Funny things I found out playing with language setting in Netflix while looking episode 15:

Chilchuck's scream sounds HAUNTED in brazilian portuguese. Give it a try if you can.

(You can hear it here)

In spanish dub, Senshi says: "tocó mis senos de hombre", which means "he touched my man boobs" in Spanish. And I think that's the best dub line one so far.

[a-little-bit-of-ravioli]

so how about that theory that Odysseus' red eyes in Six Hundred Strike mean Ares is helping him out on behalf of Athena, huh?

[iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid]

funniest news blurb i've ever seen actually. "there was a plot to kill trump last weekend. no not that one. totally different one. we figured out about it beforehand though so we heightened security at the rally. yeah that rally. yeah the one where-- yeah. yeah that one."

[daisywords]

One of my biggest nitpicks in fiction concerns the feeding of babies. Mothers dying during/shortly after childbirth or the baby being separated form the mother shortly after birth is pretty common in fiction. It is/was also common enough in real life, which is why I think a lot of writers/readers don't think too hard about this. however. Historically, the only reason the vast majority of babies survived being separated from their mother was because there was at least one other woman around to breastfeed them. Before modern formula, yes, people did use other substitutes, but they were rarely, if ever, nutritionally sufficient.

Newborns can't eat adult food. They can't really survive on animal milk. If your story takes place in a world before/without formula, a baby separated from its mother is going to either be nursed by someone else, or starve.

It doesn't have to be a huge plot point, but idk at least don't explicitly describe the situation as excluding the possibility of a wetnurse. "The father or the great grandmother or the neighbor man or the older sibling took and raised the baby completely alone in a cave for a year." Nope. That baby is dead I'm sorry. "The baby was kidnapped shortly after birth by a wizard and hidden away in a secret tower" um quick question was the wizard lactating? "The mother refused to see or touch her child after birth so the baby was left to the care of the ailing grandfather" the grandfather who made the necessary arrangements with women in the neighborhood, right? right? OR THAT GREAT OFFENDER "A newborn baby was left on the doorstep and they brought it in and took care of it no issues" What Are You Going to Feed That Baby. Hello?

Like. It's not impossible, but arrangements are going to have to be made. There are some logistics.

[heavenbarnes]

thinking about your older bf!simon that cannot cope with being far from you.

when you’re in the shower, he’s sat on the lid of the toilet on his phone (watching those rug cleaning videos) enjoying your faint singing under the stream of water, the smell of your body wash on the cloud of steam- ready to pass you a towel or get your back.

when you’re at your desk, working from home or studying, he’s just on the other side of it reading the paper with one outstretched leg tangled with both of yours. he’s dead quiet when you’re on a call, just happy to be around.

when you’re doing laundry, collecting the clothes in the hamper and crouching to stuff them into the washer- turning around and accidentally colliding with a thick wall of muscle.

“sorry, love”

he steps aside but you can hear his soft footfalls as he continues to follow you throughout your home.

when you’re both watching something on the couch, what starts as his pinky locked with yours turns into his arm around your waist. that turns into your head on his chest, which culminates with you falling asleep in his lap with his cheek on your head and soft snores emanating from his lips.

when you grocery shop, you push the trolley but his chest is to your back, arms either side of you and hands clasped over yours on the handle. you can thank his military training for his uncanny ability to tell exactly when you’ll stop walking.

when he wakes up in the middle of the night, on a rare occasion when you’ve managed to slip out of bed without him realising, he’s immediately in a panic calling your name.

“in here, my love”

as soon as his heart settles, he realises the bathroom light was probably a dead giveaway. you’re taking a wee, you’ll be back in a minute.

that doesn’t stop a sleepy simon from leaning in the doorframe, shielding his eyes from the big light as he waits for you to finish up.

even on the short walk back to bed, you can feel fingers twisted in the back of your shirt- almost like you’re leading the way.

minute you’re both on the mattress, you’re being wrapped up in his arms, slotting you perfectly into the curve of his front- almost like you’re made for him.

(and you are)

[mothmothwoth]

Found myself strangely obsessed with Skizz and Lizzie… there are apparently brain chemicals in there

[aerequets]

the mortifying ordeal of being known

--

I think with Yor being so perceptive, she picks up on little things often (like we saw in ch 103). i believe this would impact loid more so than the usual person, because he is a spy and fakes every part of himself, so to be seen is simultaneously desirable and horrifying. like, it makes him torn between wanting to accept and reciprocate the love, or distancing himself so that it doesn't happen again.

thats mostly what the last panel is about, that dichotomy between 'omg this person noticed this about me, is this love' and 'oh shit this person noticed this about me, is this Doom'

just some thoughts i had🤪

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[me-beef]

@strangeravatar made a great point

i was gonna focus on the spike-hotboxing-celestia aspect but i got distracted somewhere along the way and i think i forgot what joke i was trying to make

but dont you think its interesting how many guards of the exact same color/body type she's managed to accrue?? i do

ooohh you want to go look at our stickers so bad

[xxplastic-cubexx]

i am beyond serious

bonus:

[glorious-spoon]

i'm very picky about tv shows, but my pickiness has only an incidental relationship to whether or not a show is "good". it needs to scratch a particular itch in my brain at the right moment. do i know what the right moment is? no. do i know what the itch is? also no. i can be relied upon to get instantly bored of 85% of tv shows and then turn the remaining 15% into a central facet of my personality for 3-5 business months and even i am incapable of predicting which one it'll be ahead of time.

[nocontextlestat]