Seriously. What does it take to start up a museum?

Snippet from my (other) overly complicated Akeshu Time Loop fic where everyone except Akira (mostly) remembers the previous year:

Akechi Goro’s apartment was nothing like what Ann had expected it to be. Though admittedly her imagination had been a bit conflicted on what she should expect.

The shiny, polite Ace Detective facade he showed the world suggested she should expect a living space ripped straight out of a designer magazine. Attractive but stiff, nice to look at but difficult to actually live in let alone be comfortable in when visiting.

On the other hand, what she’d seen of his other side - the feral, blood thirsty and thoroughly nasty Black Mask - made her think of a dungeon like space. Chains on the walls, maybe one of those disturbing cluttered spaces shown on crime dramas when the heroes were hunting a serial killer. Pictures with blacked out eyes pinned to the walls, red string connecting disparate and terrifying thoughts and images, a collection of weapons on display.

What she got was…neither of those.

Shiho led her down the kind of pleasant residential area that put Ann in mind of the best kind of summers as a kid. A big park, open friendly faces, a community that seemed friendly and kind to each other. Shiho smiled and waved to a number of people on their way, the few they stopped to chat with for a bit telling her to give their hellos on to Akechi before letting them continue.

The apartment itself was the converted guest house in the back garden of what looked to be a cheerful family home. Ann counted no less than three fat cats lazing about and when they approached a delightfully plump old woman seated in a rocking chair on the front porch sat up from her reading to say hello and welcome Ann. Shiho called her Obaasan and rushed to give her a hug like she really was Shiho’s beloved grandmother before the old woman ushered them down the side path towards the back of the house.

“That’s Goro’s landlady, Shibata-San,” Shiho said as they walked the narrow path that led along the side of the house and through a truly beautiful garden. “She’s super sweet but has trouble with her arthritis sometimes. She gives Goro a deal on the rent since he helps her out so much around the house and with her gardening.”

Akechi Goro being nice to little old ladies. Ann wasn’t certain if that was exactly what she expected from the deranged killer pretending to be a charming teen detective or something so far out of the realm of expected as to be laughable. She chose to make a polite hmm noise of interest instead, not wanting to break the good mood Shiho was in by bringing up how very much Ann hated Akechi. She was rewarded by Shiho smiling warmly at her, which was really all the shorter girl would need to do to convince Ann to murder someone in Shiho’s name.

Shiho knocked at the door and Ann took a final calming breath to prepare her for the night that lay ahead of her. It was just a few hours, and she’d be there with Shiho and there would be plenty of other people to help buffer her from Akechi and Akira. Ann had helped shoot a god in the face once, she was ready for anything Akechi might throw at her over a few hours of talking about a book.

She wasn’t even close to ready, as it turned out.

The realization settled in the moment the door opened to reveal a yawning Akechi standing before her with messy hair and Featherman themed pajamas. Rumpled and clearly well worn Featherman pajamas.

Ann felt her eyes widen comically at the sight of the boy that had once been her and her team’s arch nemesis. A known and dangerous killer who had taken countless lives in the name of his twisted revenge scheme. 

He was wearing adorable unicorn slippers. Their horns were rainbow.

“Ah, Shiho!” Akechi said through his yawn, face stretching into a warm smile as he spotted the shorter girl on the other side of the threshold. “Just in time, I need help hauling Akira’s dead weight to the bedroom.” Ann watched him scratch lazily at his chin before blinking his attention over to her and offered another smile. It was a  brittle, plastic thing in comparison to the honest warmth he’d offered the shorter girl. All polish and teeth, no actual emotion. “And Takamaki-San, I’m so glad you could join us for the evening.”

He looked anything but, especially with the white knuckled grip he had on the door handle.

Ann offered a strained smile of her own. She’d made a promise to Shiho damnit and she’d see it through if it killed her. Or if Akechi killed her. Whatever. The point was that she was going to try damnit.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” She said as Akechi stepped back to allow them inside. Shiho gave a faint wince at the overly perky tone Ann had and shoot she’d overshot the enthusiasm a bit. Oh well. Better to be too excited than not enough. She followed Shiho’s lead in taking her shoes off and slipping on a pair of house slippers before turning her attention to the apartment itself.

It was…surprisingly cozy.

Ann was surprised too by the amount of clutter taking up the apartment. A laundry basket of half-folded, clean clothes sitting next to the couch, a knocked over bag tossed on a side table by the front door, more pillows and blankets than Ann would have expected making it seem like a nice place to curl up and read in. The apartment still managed to look tidy despite the half hearted attempt at organization.

Most of the space consisted of a living room with a tiny kitchenette tucked in a corner. There was a small nook beside the cooking area likely meant for dining. The small table placed there was taken over by a nice looking chess set, leaving no room for any actual dining. A small blackboard hung on the wall beside it, tallying victories of each player - tied, from what Ann could see, between Akechi and Kurusu. Other than that there were a couple doors leading to what she presumed to be a bedroom and a bathroom. 

It looked so remarkably normal.

Hardwood floors, plush rugs thrown everywhere, overstuffed bookshelves, pictures on the wall. There was a larger one hung over the couch showing off the entire book club smiling brightly at what looked like a cat cafe. Shiho, Akechi, Kurusu, Yoshizawa, even Togo Hifumi and Iwai’s son Kaoru. All of them squeezed together to fit, hands up in peace signs or giving each other bunny ears.

They looked normal. Just kids hanging out, enjoying each other’s company and reading books. It was hard to reconcile the photo with the mental image Ann had of several of the members as potential agents of Yaldabaoth.

Seeing how happy Shiho looked in the pictures didn’t help.

Ann pushed the thoughts away as best she could and followed other two to where a half asleep Akira was laid sprawled half under a large kotatsu. The delinquent had his head thrown back on the couch behind him, one of the many throw pillows Akechi apparently owned curled in his arms. She was surprised to see his usual oversized glasses he so often hid behind tossed haphazardly on the kotatsu. His eyes were closed, but he cracked one open when he heard them come over.

“M’fine here.” He muttered, curling up further around his pillow.

Akechi rolled his eyes. 

“There is a bed literally right there.” he pointed at one of the two closed doors for emphasis, mere steps away. Akira was already turning away and wiggling further beneath the kotatsu blanket. “Just go to bed Akira, no one else is even going to be here for another hour at least.”

Ann blinked. “What?” She turned from the drowsy Akira to Shiho, the shorter girl giving an unapologetic, challenging smile.

“Goro said we could come over early so you could get settled in!” Shiho said, chipper and all too aware of the fact that Ann had been banking on keeping her attention on other people in order to ignore Akechi. She really shouldn’t have been surprised. Shiho really did know her too well.

Akechi offered another brittle smile before turning his attention back to Akira, his expression softening again. Ann watched as the detective attempted to scoop the dark haired boy up, only for Akira to slip out of his grasp by going boneless, earning an undignified swear from the detective. 

Ann watched as the detective attempted to drag the delinquent away by an arm, amused as Shiho strolled over casually and hauled Akira up over her shoulder - pillow and all - in a fireman’s hold. She did it with such ease that Ann was a left little breathless at the show of strength. Akira wasn’t heavy by any measure but he was tall and she’d seen him working out at the gym the one time she went with Ryuji. The boy had muscle and that couldn’t be light. It didn’t matter to the short girl and her exceptional strength and well… Ann was weak to Shiho in so very many ways.

A few minutes later Akira had been safely stowed in a proper bed, the faint sound of soft snores heard from the dark haired delinquent before Shiho had even made it through the door. Which just left the three of them standing awkwardly in the living room.

Joy.

“I’m not nearly as good as Akira or Boss,” Akechi began, “But I can make a passable cup of coffee with what I’ve got here. Would you like one?”

There was a very real chance he might poison it. Ann nodded anyway to appease Shiho, resigned to the fact that she really was willing to do anything to see the shorter girl smile. 

Akechi shuffled towards the kitchenette in his ridiculous fluffy unicorn slippers and began fussing with the various coffee supplies that took up almost all of his very limited counter space. He was even nice enough to pull out a container of some cookies - a favorite brand of Ann’s on top of it - that hadn’t even been opened yet from a cupboard. She felt secure in the knowledge that those at least hadn’t been tampered with as she began happily devouring them.

“He’s still refusing to move in?” Shiho asked Akechi softly as she settled on the plush loveseat adjacent to the couch, tugging Ann down beside her. The dark haired girl pulled her feet up and under her, Shiho’s expression turning concerned as she watched Akechi work.

Akechi gave a soft sigh as he began boiling some water for the coffee. “He’s just so damn stubborn.” The detective said, shoulder’s drooping as he measured the freshly ground coffee out. “That place is killing him, but every time I bring it up he digs his heels in.”

Shiho gave a soft sigh before turning her attention to Ann to explain. “Akira is…” She paused, frowning, “His living situation is…bad.” Ann flicked her attention to Akechi as she heard him mutter a faint fucking understatement of the year under his breath. “Goro has offered to let him stay here but Akira’s worried that his record would hurt Goro’s reputation.”

“Oh,” Ann said, turning her attention on the delicate chocolate dipped cookie she held. Akira’s criminal record, that had been made public and well known by Mishima at Komashida’s request. Because Akira had stepped in and kept the teacher from getting to Shiho. Something Ann should have done. “Isn’t there something he can do? He’s staying with a guardian right? Couldn’t he just request to be moved under someone else?”

Akechi snorted bitterly. “Great idea, so that scam artist can report him as being “dangerous” and get him sent back to Juvie?” Red eyes turned to Ann, pinning her in place as Akechi’s mouth twisted into a sour frown. “You know about shitty adults. You know there really aren’t options like that for people in Akira’s position.”

Ann was struck again by the strange clash between what she expected from Akechi from the last run of the game and what he was showing her in this one. 

A facade of niceties for the camera, a howling soul of insanity for anyone who got in his way. Where, exactly, between those two extremes lay concern for a friend in a difficult position? Where did friends lay in that mess at all? Where did the cozy apartment, helping out an arthritic old lady, the weekly book club, the Featherman pajamas? Was there a graph somewhere that might map it all out? Or was she just supposed to guess at what was a real glimpse at the boy that had once murdered her friend’s father and what was an act to get what he wanted?

“Here,” Akechi said, and for a moment she half expected him to hand her the answers she wanted. He didn’t, of course, instead handing her a cup of coffee resting on a matching saucer. Both cup and saucer had cute chubby cats on them. “Cream? Sugar?”

She blinked and nodded, watching as he turned on his heel to get her what she asked for. Shiho beside her shifted where she sat, butting their shoulders together gently. Her face, when Ann met her gaze, was thoughtful. Considering Ann as if she was the puzzle and not the serial killer juggling a carton of cream and an oversized container of sugar across the room. Trying to stow her apprehension away for the night, Ann offered her friend the best honest expression she could while knowing how many lies she’d given the shorter girl over the past months. 

Shiho’s expression shifted slowly, the look in her dark eyes difficult to read. Ann watched as the other girl turned to sip at her coffee. Shiho didn’t even wait for it to cool. She always liked her drinks hot enough to scald.

“You know, maybe it’s the way you’re asking.” Shiho said, the complicated emotions Ann glimpsed the moment before shuffled away as the dark haired girl turned a devious smile on Akechi.

The detective looked weary and wary all at once. “Shiho…” His tone had something like a weak warning to it, though the bite Ann was used to hearing from him was absent.

“I’m just saying,” Shigo said, looking delighted, “You’re asking him to move in with you as a friend.”

“Don’t.” Akechi said, it might have been sharp and snapping if it wasn’t for the color rising high on the boy’s cheeks. Ann blinked in bewilderment. Was Akechi Goro blushing?

“Just ask him to be your boyfriend already!” Shiho said, all cheer and delight with an undercurrent of something challenging directed at the now definitely blushing Akechi. “We all saw you two kiss at the ice rink! It’s not like the thing between you it’s a secret!”

Ann choked on the cookie she’d just popped into her mouth. Akechi - so red that Ann was fairly certain he was going to turn purple soon - made a high pitched squeak and buried his face in his hands.

Well that put a new light on things.

“You kissed Kurusu?!” Cookies crumbs went flying as she spoke but Ann didn’t care. The news was just too big to be taken in calmly. Makoto had suspected that Kurusu, a known criminal, was a pawn in Akechi’s devious plan and the rest of the group had been thinking the same. Morgana suggested that the dark haired boy might even be the new player they’d been warned about.

At no point at any of them considered Akechi could be so human as to simply just like Kurusu.

“It’s not that - you’re taking things out of context!” Akechi almost wailed, not a psychopath ready to kill at a drop of a hat but an embarrassed teenage boy being teased about his crush.

Shiho laughed, “You two held hands!” 

“I didn’t know how to skate! Kurusu was helping me balance!”

“You stayed on the ice during the couple’s song!”

“We just didn’t want to get off the ice!”

“You stopped, in the middle of the rink, looked deep into each other’s eyes while holding hands and kissed.”

As if to drive her point home, Shiho lifted her phone to show a picture - a bit blurry at the edges but clear enough to make out - of Akechi and Kurusu definitely having a sweet, romantic kiss on the ice. Clearly completely oblivious of the world around them as they did so. It was possibly the cutest thing Ann had ever seen.

Any idea Ann ever had of Akechi Goro being intimidating was thrown right out the window.

~Sugar Rush~

Hoshi x Reader

Author:pseudomint

Summary: Kwon soonyoung finds himself becoming a regular customer in a local ice cream shop after meeting mingyu’s cute co-worker. Sounds normal—unless you leave out the fact that he dislikes sweets.

Pairing:Hoshi(Svt) x reader

Gene:Collage/University,Ice Cream polar,attempt at humor,flirting,Smitten Hoshi,Mingyu third wheeling,Jun and his pick up lines

Rating:Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count:6100

———————-

~SUGAR RUSH~

Hoshi stares at the cute, pastel building, decorated with stickers of ice cream illustrations on the big, glass windows and door. He checks his phone screen once again, only to see the exact picture of the building he found on the internet glaring back at him mockingly.

This is the place. He finally knows where Mingyu’s secret workplace is. Don’t ask him where he got the address from (he might have.. owed a certain pink haired devil named Jeonghan). All he has to do now is to storm inside the ice cream shop and make fun of Mingyu for all it’s worth.

Being friends with that guy for a long time, Hoshi has a vague idea of why would Mingyu hide his workplace. The guy has always been vocal about his worship for anything hip-related, evident by his love for classic Pop, several ear piercings, and fashion style. He’s studying art so that he can become a tattoo artist. Moreover, he has a history as a delinquent back in middle school.

So, working in a local, cute ice cream shop near their campus might not be included in Mingyu’s list of Top 10 Dream Jobs, even as a part-timer.

Hoshi stifles a grin as he pushes the door open, earning a chime from the bell above. The shop is quite vacant, save for three customers, minding their own businesses in three different seats, the ice cream on their plates or cups half-eaten. One of them is bobbing their head to the popular pop song that is heard through the wall speakers. As Hoshi continues to scan the pastel themed shop, his eyes finally land on the glass display, filled with various flavors and colors of ice cream.Hoshi can already feel a toothache—he’s never been a fan of sweets, after all.

Noticing the absence of the employees behind the counters, Hoshi spots a bell placed beside the cash register. His hand hovers above it, uncertain whether calling the shop clerk with a damn bell is even polite—obviously, this isn’t some kind of five-star gourmet restaurant. Not that Hoshi has ever been into one.

Thankfully, before Hoshi could dive further into his impromptu crisis, an employee emerges from the back door. He’s wearing a pastel blue uniform shirt and a pink apron with the shop’s logo on the left side of his chest. Such soft colors, contrast with the dark scowl on his face.

“What the fuck are you doing here, bastard?” Mingyu snarls, clearly aggravated by the mere of Hoshi’s presence alone.

And Hoshi can’t hold it back anymore. He laughs, folding his body in half, one hand clutching his gut as the other supports himself by gripping the counter. Fuck, this is funnier than he initially thought. No matter how he imagined it, the image of Mingyu and a cute ice cream shop just can’t be merged. Yet, here he is—the reality presented right before Hoshi’s eyes.Hoshi wheezes again.

“Stop fucking laughing,” Mingyu hisses, hands clenching on both of his sides. His face is flushed from anger with a mixture of embarassment. “This is why I’d never fucking tell you about this place!”

“Oh, it’s never about the place, ‘Mingyu,”Hoshi replies, wiping a tear from the corner of his eyes. “It’s always been about you.”

Mingyu growls. “I’m seriously gonna kick you out.”

“I’m a paying customer,” Hoshi smirks back. “Treat me like one.”

“Then act like one,” Mingyu snaps, folding his arms across his chest, frown deepening. “Though I bet you can’t even handle the sweetness.”“Gimme the menu.”

“There’s one behind me, written on the chalkboard, asshole.”

“Wow, brilliant customer service,” Hoshi deadpans. “Don’t you have the printed one or something?”

“Aren’t you spoiled?” the hipster grumbles as he magically pulls out a menu, printed on a laminated paper from behind the counter. He doesn’t miss the opportunity to slap it against Hoshi’s chest.The act, however, is caught by one of Mingyu’s co-worker who’s suddenly coming out of the back room.

“Mingyu-oppa! Why did you do that to a customer?!” She screeches, horrified at her oppa’s rude behavior. She’s way shorter than Mingyu, and shorter than Kazuya. She has a (h/s) (h/c) hair that somehow looks soft and fluffy as the strands bounce everytime she moves.When their eyes finally meet,Hoshi’s lost the ability to speak.

Now, Hoshi’s never been one to believe in love at first sight, albeit having heard the idea of it in many sappy romance films. Hoshi’s also met many girls he considers as good-looking, but that’s it. There were no imaginary flowers or love-shaped bubbles or sprinkles of glitters around them, like a typical page of shoujo mangas. He didn’t feel his heart pounding harshly against his ribcages. He’s positive that he had never blushed at someone without any good reason.But his cheeks have never felt warmer than this moment.

The girl in front of him is unbelievably cute; she has an air of innocence around her that makes Hoshi want to scoop her up (no ice cream puns intended) in his arms and pinch those slightly chubby, round cheeks. Her cute button nose is perfect for a nose boop, and oh, how Hoshi wishes to nip her pink, plump lips.The girl’s tongue darts out to lick the very same lips, before she opens her mouth.

“Um.. are you okay? Is my co-worker hurting you?” She asks, brows furrowing in worry. Hoshi forces himself to look at her in the eyes, which is apparently a bad decision, because for the love of baseball, he’s never seen someone having such beautiful, molten e/c eyes—

“He’s fine,” Mingyu answers, shooting Hoshi a knowing look. “Sadly, I gotta admit that he’s a friend of mine, so don’t worry about him, y/n.”

“Oh!” Y/n brightens up, giving Hoshi an impression of a cute dog perking up its ears and wagging its tail. “Finally this l/n y/n gets to meet one of Mingyu-oppa’s friends!” She says joyfully with a voice a bit too loud. “May I also have the honor of knowing your name?”

Hoshi briefly glances at Mingyu, as if asking whether he should be concerned of Y/n’s odd, archaic way of speaking, but Mingyu’s expression works as a wordless assurance that it’s nothing to be worried about.Then, after eyeing Y/n’s extended arm as an offer for a handshake, Hoshi takes it firmly with a smirk.

“The name’s Kwon Soonyoung but you can call me Hoshi,” he purrs, his thumb tracing a circle on the back of Y/n’s hand. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you, Y/n.”His smirk broadens when a blush blooms on the girl’s cheeks.

“Uh—likewise!” Y/n retracts her hand too quickly. “Um, I’ll let you proceed with your order with Mingyu-oppa—“

“The thing is,” Hoshi cuts her off, leaning on the counter, showing a feigned, saddest expression on his face. “Mingyu was bullying me,” he sighs. The said guy promptly sputters a series of denials. “And this is my first time here. I think I deserve a discount for the bad customer service, don’t you think?”

Y/n lets out a scandalized gasp, giving Mingyu a nasty, chiding glare for treating their customer poorly, even if they’re ‘friends.’ “Then you have my approval!” She declares, jabbing a proud thumb at her own chin. “Don’t worry! I’ll tell boss about the discount later! Now, please pick any flavors!”Hoshi’s mouth twitches as a bubble of laughter arises from his chest. This kid is so gullible, so genuine, so interesting. He almost feels bad for tricking him.Mingyu kicks Y/n’s legs, “Idiot! Can’t you see that he’s tricking you?!”

When y/n shoots a puzzled look at Hoshi, Hoshi’s laughter breaks free from his mouth. In return, he gets a bristling y/n who goes out of her way to be on the other side of the counter just to shake Hoshi’s collar and send him colorful insults. Not the most professional thing an employee should do to a customer, but it’s worth for Hoshi’s own entertainment.In the end, Hoshi’s the one who gets kicked out of the shop before he causes more commotions.

Hoshi comes back at Mingyu’s next shift, mentally convincing himself that he’s here to annoy the hell out of the hipster, not because Mingyu accidentally reveals the fact that y/n has the same schedule with him.Yeah, right.

He peeks over the big windows, and hesitates. The shop is more crowded than his last visit, as expected from weekends. It’s mostly filled with couples and giggling high school girls. Hoshi decides to sit on the unoccupied outdoor seats by the window, waiting for the beeline to lessen.

Fortunately, it doesn’t take long for the patrons to decrease. By the time he enters the shop, the jingle of the doorbell earns him an automatic response from y/n who’s not even looking at the door. “Welcome to—“ she glances at Hoshi, then frowns. “—oh, it’s you.”

“Oh? Do I see another bad customer service?” Hoshi smirks, strutting closer the counter.

“I’ll show you customer service,” Mingyu threatens, glowering at him.

Hoshi holds up his hands in defense, grinning, “easy there, ‘Mingyu”

“So, are you going to order, Kwon Soonyoung?” Y/n squints at him in suspicion. Pushing aside his inner glee of noticing a mundane detail such as Y/n remembering his full name, Hoshi ponders of giving her an honest reply or not. Will they kick him out once again if he admits that he can barely handle sweet things?

“Hoshi?” Y/n’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and his previous scorn is replaced with an owlish blinking. It makes Kazuya more aware of how y/n’s long eyelashes brush her cheeks whenever she closes her eyelids for a brief second.Pretty.“Hoshi!”Hoshi coughs and answers distractedly. “Uh, yeah, sure. I’ll order something.”

Mingyu stares at him like he’s grown a pair of horns, but it’s more like that he can’t seem to grasp that Hoshi, of all people, agrees to order something sweet.

“You sound uncertain, but worry not! The ice cream here will change your mind,” Y/n chirps with an eye smile. Hoshi can feel a thousand of cupid arrows piercing through his fragile, gay heart.

“Right, because Hoshi absolutely loves ice cream,” Mingyu mutters under his breath beside his co-worker with a blatant sarcastic tone.Y/n doesn’t seem to hear it, much to Hoshi’s relief.

“So...” Hoshi drawls, scrutinizing the menu near the cash register. “Do you have a flavor that isn’t too...” he grimaces at the next word, “sweet?”

“That’s impossible, go home.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Mingyu.”

“I can recommend you some,” Y/n replies, ignoring Mingyu and Hoshi’s glaring contest. “We have wasabi flavor, bitter melon flavor—“

“Some extreme recommendations you have there,” Hoshi sweatdrops.

“Hey! They taste fine, I guess,” Y/n looks hesitant herself. Hoshi wonders if the girl even understands basic marketing strategies—she could’ve at least pretended to be confident with her promotion. “I mean, I’m sure they’re better than natto flavored ice cream or anything.”

“You hate natto?” Hoshi smiles in amusement, inwardly happy to know one fact about Y/n.

“I despise it!” Y/n huffs, not even bothering to conceal her disgust. “Anyway! If you’re not interested with our out-of-the-world flavors, maybe you’d love our triple shot espresso ice cream! If you’re still not convinced, we still have a variety of diet frozen yogurts that are guaranteed to be low-sugar!”Hoshi hums at the mention of anything caffeine-related, “triple shot espresso ice cream doesn’t sound bad. Get me the smallest cup, y/n.”

“Roger!” Y/n beams, giving a military salute before she busies herself with Hoshi’s order. Her moves behind the counter are swift, practiced, and surprisingly not clumsy. Her hips sway a little to the beat of the music—whose great idea it is to play a suggestive jazz music at a fucking ice cream shop in Saturday afternoon?—but Hoshi’s not really complaining. In fact, he enjoys the show a bit too much; he doesn’t even realize that he’s been propping one arm on the counter to support his chin while watching y/n with a mushy smile.“Wipe that disgusting expression off your face,” Mingyu comments, unimpressed.“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah? As if I could overlook someone who looks like they’re seconds away from jumping my co-worker in public!” Mingyu hisses this time, still considerate enough to lower his volume.“Don’t worry, I’ll do that in private,” Hoshi winks.

“That’s not what I—“

“Do you want any additional toppings, Hoshi?” Y/n unintentionally interrupts their bickering. She’s now holding a small paper cup of a coffee-colored ice cream, head slightly to the side in an adorable manner, waiting for Hoshi’s response.

Although Hoshi’s brain is already short-circuited due to the amount of metaphorical sweetness that Y/n radiates, he still manages to croak out a reply of “almonds are fine”, in hoping that if the ice cream is still too sweet for his liking, the almonds would be able to balance the sugar.

Mingyu handles the payment without initiating any arguments with Hoshi for once, probably wanting to speed up the process of Hoshi leaving the shop. Either way, Hoshi has to leave indeed. He has other things to do, too.

“Thank you for purchasing, please come again~” come a chorus of synchronized phrase from Mingyu and Y/n; the former sounding bored and forced, while the latter sounding more cheerful.“I will,” Hoshi retorts jocosely, then flicks his gaze over Y/n, “if Y/n calls me her oppa, too.”

“Okay, Hoshi-oppa,” y/n breathes out without missing a beat. Her face instantly bursts into a myriad shades of red, complemented by a small, shy smile etched on her lips, and-Hoshi suddenly thinks he has a severe case of heart palpitations.

He inhales sharply, and turns his heels towards the door. “It’s decided, then,” he chuckles over his shoulder, giving his last smirk towards y/n, and exits the shop.

(He eats his ice cream on the way to his apartment and is genuinely surprised at the rich taste of coffee instead of sugar.It adds one more reason to visit the shop again.)

 Hoshi’s next visit includes an unwanted guest, much to Hoshi’s distaste.

For a better term, he was following Hoshi in secret. Usually, Hoshi would easily sense something behind his back, but the particular street that the ice cream shop is located at is always busy. It’s to be expected from a street that connects commercial, academic and several residential buildings. That being said, the crowd of people makes it hard for Hoshi to notice whether someone is following him or not.In the end, Jun makes his presence known loudly by the time he enters the shop.

“Oi, Hoshi! You refused to hang out with me just to buy some ice cream?!” he stomps his foot on the ground. “Wait, I thought you don’t like ice—“

Hoshi, who’s currently leaning on the counter right in front of Y/n, automatically massages the bridge of his nose and quickly interjects the purple haired before he spouts something unnecessary. “Jun, did you really follow me all the way here?”

“Does it matter?” the purple haired shrugs, sticking his nose up in the air. “I’m here now. That’s what you get from ditching me.”

Hoshi sighs in exasperation, “I did not ditch you. I told you to reschedule our hang out.”

“Same thing,” Jun scoffs stubbornly.

Mingyu bashes his forehead on the counter, emitting a depressed aura all over the shop. “Great. There goes all of my peace at work.”

“Oh, Mingyu! Fancy meeting you here!” Jun greets with a grin. “So you’re the reason why Hoshi’s here?”

“No,” both Mingyu and Hoshi say flatly.

“Um, are you going to order?” Y/n, who’s been observing the situation, speaks up, attracting a pair of black orbs towards him. Then, Jun regards Hoshi and Y/n, back and forth, in a thoughtful manner.

“Oh ho? I see now,” he grins wickedly, elbowing Hoshi to the side and takes over his place, resulting in the dancer stumbling and hitting the glass display of ice cream. Paying no attention to Hoshi’s heated glare, Jun leans over the counter and brings his face closer to Y/n. “You’re pretty cute, I guess. Hoshi has a good taste.”Y/n makes a choking noise from her throat, and Hoshi’s left eye twitches.

“Who the heck are you?” Y/n scrunches her nose, taking one step backwards defensively.

“Wen Junhui, but you can call me darling,” Jun smiles flirtatiously. Y/n only stares back with a palpable discomfort on her face.

“...Then, are you going to order?” She repeats hesitantly.

“Sure. As long as you’re included as the bonus.”

“Uh,” y/n frowns deeper. “May I know the flavor of your choice?”

“Anything would do,” Jun answers, “but if you were an ice cream, you’d be my favorite flavor.”

“What?”

“And I know you’d like me too,” jun then lowers his voice into a whisper, like he’s going to tell the world’s deepest secret, “because I have an 8” popsicle down there.”

Mingyu’s shoulders are shaking from laughter, finding the whole situation amusing and ridiculous. Any other day, Hoshi would, too, but right now, he only feels a second-hand embarassment from Jun’s abhorrent pick-up lines. Even y/n looks utterly unimpressed by Jun’s flirting.

“Alright, Jun, that’s enough,” Hoshi interjects impatiently. “No one wants to know about your nonexistent 8” popsicle dick.”Mingyu laughs louder.

“Tch, you’re no fun, Hoshi,” Jun glares at him childishly, then whirls his body towards Y/n crossing his arms in his usual bossy manner. “Fine, I’ll order something. Get me a big cup of butterscotch and vanilla ice cream with marshmallows and oreos on top.”

“...Coming right up,” slightly taken aback by the change of attitude, y/n mutters and wordlessly scoops the ice cream into the cup, while Hoshi is inwardly cringing from the amount of sugar Jun’s order has.

The purple haired pays and finally leaves the shop, not before gesturing a V-sign to his eyes and then to Hoshi’s—indicating that their conversation isn’t over.

Hoshi shakes his head. “There’s nothing to be discussed in the first place,” he mumbles under his breath. Jun dragged himself into this situation. Then again, Hoshi’s known Jun long enough to tell that the purple haired wasn’t seriously flirting with Y/n. The dancer could properly make his fangirls swoon if he wanted to.

Looking back to his prior act, however... it’s almost as if he was testing Hoshi, because his eyes were holding a familiar knowing gleam—the exact glint in Mingyu ’s eyes when Hoshi first met y/n.

“But seriously, who is he?!” Y/n fumes. “I can’t believe he made a dick joke straight to my face!”

“He’s Hoshi’s ex,” Mingyu grins, nudging

y/n with his elbow. The younger blanches, mouth gaping upon hearing the information.

“Yup, and I’m totally dating you, Mingyu,” Hoshi rolls his eyes.

“R-really?!” Y/n’s eyes grow as wide as a saucer. Hoshi bites back a grin, almost forgetting how gullible Y/n is.

“Relax, we’re lying,” he snorts. “Can I take my order now?”

“Oh, right!” Y/n straightens her back, although she doesn’t seem to be convinced by Hoshi’s reassurance.

Hoshi selects the exact menu he ordered on his last visit, although this time he chooses a cone rather than a paper cup. He also makes a mental note to try another variety of topping next time.

“You two looks close,” y/n comments all of a sudden as she works behind the counter. It doesn’t take a genius to know who Y/n is talking about.“Jun’s my childhood friend,” Hoshi

smiles, quirking an eyebrow at Y/n’s pout. She’s sulking, for some unknown reason, albeit Hoshi has a silly, vague (and hopeful) idea of it. “Rest assured, there’s nothing between us,” Hoshi continues, watching how Y/n subtly relaxes her shoulders. “That goes for me and Mingyu, too,” she adds as an afterthought. Mingyu has never nodded so aggresively.

“That explains why you guys are on a first name basis,” Y/n says abashedly, avoiding Hoshi’s gaze. “B-but! Your relationship is none of my business, of course! This

l/n y/n was just curious, please forgive me for prying!”

Still blushing, she shoves the cone under Hoshi’s nose. Hoshi chuckles and takes it, purposely brushing their fingers together, deepening y/n’s blush. Satisfaction sprouts inside his chest—even without any cheesy pick-up lines, y/n’s naturally a blushing mess around him.Adorable.

“This is sickening to watch,” Mingyu groans, “now pay up, bastard.”

Out of reflex, Hoshi gives him another snide remarks about bad customer service (again), to which Mingyu retaliates with another empty threats.

The doorbell jingles as two chatting customers enter the shop, and at the same time, it’s Hoshi’s cue to leave. He looks back at Y/n, who’s unexpectedly staring at him in silence, and grins cheekily when Y/n flinches due to being caught.“See you next time,” Hoshi says in soft tone, before he playfully boops y/n’s on the nose.

Y/n doesn’t—can’t—reply because she has to serve the next customers, but she manages to send a meek smile towards Hoshi’s direction.

Fuck, Hoshi thinks later, as he ambles back to his place. He can’t believe he finally had the balls to nose boop y/n. He can’t erase y/n’s blushing face from his mind. He can’t stop smiling giddily right now—passersby are probably whispering about him, but he couldn’t care less.All he cares is that he’s honestly in some deep shit.

~~~~~~

 Hoshi spends the next few weeks coming to the ice cream shop. He sometimes misses a day or two, partially due to being exhausted by dancing practice or just college in general. Another reason is because he’s fed up with eating ice cream (no matter how much he’s come to tolerate it a little ever since coming to the shop) and his diet as an athlete doesn’t allow him to overeat anything sweet. Which is ridiculous, since he doesn’t have other excuses to see Y/n; visiting the shop frequently without buying anything would be weird. Though, as days go by, he becomes more creative with his orders, like switching to low-sugar frozen yogurts or an iced Americano float (with the float being removed, much to Y/n’s confusion). Soon, he also finds out the existence of food—such as toasts and grilled sausages—in the shop’s menu.(“You need to stop ogling at Y/n and pay attention to our menu instead,” Mingyu once chastised wryly.)

Regardless, Hoshi enjoys most of his visits. Y/n is a fun person to talk to; Hoshi is often swayed by her personality and ends up being more talkative than he actually is, earning a frown from Mingyu. Later, Y/n reveals that she’s a dancer at Hoshi and Mingyu’s rival college, and she has jokingly asked Hoshi several times to dance against her.Hoshi’s never given an outright answer, however. As much as he wants to meet up with Y/n outside of the shop, he wants it as a date.

And that’s where the problem lies. He doesn’t know how to properly bring it up. He could ask Y/n in the shop, right beside Mingyu, but getting rejected in public would be awkward. In the end, that thought is always buried to the back of his mind.

Today is no different. Hoshi visits the the shop again—after being absent for a week prior—with no intentions of bringing up the date. As usual, he only wants to see the dancer. Even before stepping his feet inside, his heart thumps in anticipation to Y/n’s welcoming smile. So, as soon as he pushes the door open only to notice the absence of one of the workers behind the counters, his face falls.

“Asshole, I should’ve gotten offended of how disappointed your face is when you saw me instead of Y/n,” Mingyu scowls, to which Hoshi grins sheepishly. “She’s gonna be late today. I know what you’re thinking—she’s fine. There aren’t any dangerous emergencies or something like that, calm down.”

“I am calm,” Hoshi replies, burying his hands into his pockets. “I know she’s gonna be fine. She has such a caring co-worker after all,” he smirks at Kuramochi, who huffs in slight embarassment.

“Shut up. Who knows what stupid thing she’s gonna do,” the hipster’s lips curl downwards, an attempt to hold back his smile. “Anyway, since she’s not here yet, I can finally interrogate you.”

“What is there to interrogate?”

“What is y/n to you?” Mingyu ignores his words, giving him a pointed look instead. “If you’re only playing with her, Hoshi, I swear – “

“Oi, can’t you trust me a little?” Hoshi sweatdrops. “Do I look like some kind of heartthrob? You know me better than that, ‘Mingyu.”

“With your face, it’s easy to become one.”

“Very flattering.”

“Anyway, I’m being fucking serious right now,” Mingyu glowers at the dancer solemnly. “Tell me what you want from her.”

Hoshi eventually sighs, and briefly scans the whole shop. Luckily, it’s one of the weekdays, so there aren’t many customers inside. Besides, they’re too engrossed in their conversations or electronical devices to eavesdrop on Hoshi and Mingyu.

“Look, I don’t want anything from her,” Hoshi begins slowly, but he’s only rewarded with a skeptical look from Mingyu. “Okay, maybe I’ve been meaning to ask her on a date, but—“ he narrows his eyes at the hipster. “Wait, she’s single, right?”

“Isn’t it a bit too late to be asking that?” Mingyu purses his lips into a thin line.

“Oh, Hoshi, you’re here!”

Both the hipster and the dancer whip their head alarmingly to the familiar voice. There stands y/n with her trademark grin, her bag slung around her shoulder. Panic blossoms inside of Hoshi’s chest—he didn’t hear the jingle of the doorbell, and judging from Mingyu’s startled response, he didn’t, too. They don’t know how long has the dancer been standing there. It’d be bad if Y/n managed to hear their conversation.

So, Hoshi studies y/n’s facial expression, searching for something, but the dancer only looks perplexed—probably due to Hoshi’s sudden stillness.

“Hoshi?” Y/n blinks up at him, making Hoshi more conscious of their height difference. Eyes trailing down to her neck, the pastel-colored collar of the shop’s uniform peeks out of her oversized sweater that falls until her mid-thigh, with the sleeves covering up her whole hands.

Sweater paws, Hoshi’s mind shuts down as tiny Hoshi’s inside his brain run in circles, screaming “ABORT! ABORT!” with high-pitched voices. She’s fucking wearing sweater paws.

“Hoshi-oppa!” Y/n frowns, successfully drawing Hoshi’s attention. “Don’t zone out like that, you’re scaring me.”

“Right, sorry,” the dancer mutters as he watches Y/n disappearing into the back room, before she shows up again without her sweater while tying the apron on her lower back.

“I see that you haven’t ordered something!” Y/n grins brightly, this time placing both of her hands on her hips. “So, what are you here for today, Hoshi?”

Hoshi, still distracted, racks his brain to all of the menu he’s ordered in the past. Triple shots espresso ice cream with almonds. Iced americano float, but without the float. Wasabi ice cream because he was feeling adventurous. Hazelnut spread and sliced banana on toast—

No, that’s not What hoshi wants all of this time. He wants—

“You,” he blurts out, mumbling, unaware of Mingyu choking in the background. However, when he notices the lack of response from the dancer, the haze in his brain suddenly dissipates, and everything becomes crystal clear again. “Shit, I mean—“

“Okay,” Y/n says, e/c orbs shyly peeking from underneath her lashes towards Hoshi.

“I was—huh, what?” Hoshi pauses, dumbfounded.

“I said okay,” Y/n averts her eyes, playing with the hem of her apron. “You can have me.”

Hoshi stares and stares, trying to process Y/n’s affirmation. That sounds too suggestive—too good to be true. Maybe his brain is tricking him. Maybe this is only a scene that he unconsciously creates inside his mind which is brought to life in a form of hallucination.

But when Y/n starts to fidget under his gaze, Hoshi lets his brain register the fact that this is, indeed, a reality.

As the gears inside him begin to work again, Hoshi doesn’t pass the chance to poke some fun at Y/n’s answer which basically serves as a free teasing material for Hoshi to use.

“Oh? How bold,” he then comments, smirking in satisfaction as he observes how realization gradually dawns on Y/n’s face.

“I didn’t mean to phrase it like that!” the dancer exclaims defensively, her cheeks now tainted with red. “Y-you were the one who blurted out weird things in the first place!”

“Sorry, sorry~” Hoshi grins unapologetically, to which Y/n pouts at. “But, as tempting as it sounds, you should let me take you on a date first, y’know,” he continues, his playful grin faltering a little due to slight nervousness.

To his relief, Y/n utters a timid “okay” and nods, a tint of pink still decorating her cheeks. At that, Hoshi doesn’t bother to hide the ever-growing smile on his lips and an excited glance to Mingyu who’s pretending to read a magazine and acting all disinterested, albeit the small curl on the corner of his mouth tells otherwise.

The next thing Hoshi knows is him exchanging phone numbers with the dancer and discussing their date in a short stretch of time due to the arrival of a group of customers.

Hoshi doesn’t get any ice cream that day, but he does get something—someone—sweeter in return.

 ~Three months later~

 Hoshi sips on his hot, black coffee, the steam fogging up the lenses of his glasses. He steps aside when a patron comes out of the shop hurriedly, but he manages to halt the door from closing with his right knee. Hoshi then opens the door big enough for his body to get inside as the familiar chime of the doorbell greets his ears. The shop is silent, empty without customers, highly caused by the “CLOSED” sign on the door with a red, thick font.“I’m sorry, we’re already closed—“ Y/n says from Hoshi’s left side while stacking some brochures. When she finally turns her head towards the door, a beatific smile appears on her face. “Oh! Hoshi.”

Hoshi smiles back, placing his coffee on the counter and leans towards Y/n, to which the latter eagerly closes the gap between their mouths. They share a quick kiss as a greeting, before Hoshi withdraws slightly.

“Hey,” he murmurs, lips brushing over

y/n’s. He steals one or two more kisses, just because he can’t help himself.

“Hi to you too,” Y/n whispers, giggling. Hoshi cradles his lover’s cheeks with one of his palms, prompting Y/n to nuzzle against it. From here, he can also make out Y/n’s e/c eyes twinkling in delight—so captivating and blinding that it stupefies him.

“For someone who’s on her last day of work, you sure look happy,” Hoshi comments, arching an amused brow.

“I am happy!” Y/n replies, pulling away fully to finish her tidying duty. She moves swiftly behind the counters, the sole of her shoes creating noisy sounds against the tiled floor. “But not in a way you’re thinking.”

“Enlighten me, then,” Hoshi says, bringing the paper cup of his half-drunk coffee to his mouth and takes a sip.

“I like this job,” Y/n confesses, finishing her work and untying her apron. “My co-workers are nice, and my boss is generous to give me discounted ice cream.”

“I think the latter plays a bigger part,” Hoshi teases, knowing Y/n’s sweet tooth.

“Shut up,” the dancer juts her tongue out. “Meeting you here is what makes this job more special,” Y/n casually states, offering a smug smirk at Hoshi’s flabbergasted expression.

“Wow, Y/n,” he breathes out, before whistling with a shake of head. “You sure become bolder with your words nowadays.”

“Wh-what’s that supposed to mean?!”Y/n questions, pupils turning cat-like.Hoshi hums. “Well, you used to blush so much around me—“

“That’s – “ as if on cue, red creeps up to y/n’s cheek. “That’s because you always gave me those kind of eyes and used that kind of voice—!”

“What about now?”hoshi smirks, revelling in the way Y/n gets all worked up because of him. A nasty personality he has, indeed.

“Ugh, I’m not gonna talk about it!” the dancer scrunches her nose, a habit that Hoshi’s taken to notice whenever Y/n is frustrated. “Anyway! I was talking why I feel happy to quit work! It’s because I can spend more time with you now!”If Hoshi’s heart pulsates rapidly due to the abrupt swarm of affections in his veins, he does a great job of hiding it. “The real reason why you quit is because of the upcoming dancer season. We’d still be busy, either way,” he points out instead.

“Must you be so pessimistic, Hoshi?” Y/n pouts, looking a little dejected. Hoshi exhales guiltily.

“My bad,” he chuckles, ruffling the crown of Y/n’s head. “You know that I’d always try to make time for you, right, Y/n?”

“Of course you do, you whipped asshole. Only you would come to a shop that sells something you dislike.”

“Mingyu-oppa!” Y/n jumps due to

Mingyu’s unannounced appearance from the back room, before gawking at his revelation. “Wait, what? Does Hoshi not like ice cream?”

“Ask him yourself,” Mingyu shrugs.

Y/n immediately whirls towards Hoshi, displaying her best puppy face to lure the truth out of her boyfriend. And concede Hoshi does, not before shooting daggers at a snickering Mingyu.

“Yes, y/n, I don’t eat much sweets. You happy now?” he admits reluctantly, tugging the collar of his jacket in embarassment.

“Oh my god, Hoshi!” Sawamura bounces on her feet. “After all of this time, you didn’t come here for the ice cream?!”

Hoshi sighs, not before downing the remnant of his coffee and throwing it in the nearest trash bin. “I don’t see what the issue is. It’s not like I exactly loathe ice cream, I just can’t handle it if it’s too sweet—“Y/n, however, wastes no time to approach Hoshi on the other side of the counter, circling her arms around Hoshi’s neck and kisses him hard on the mouth.

The hipster groans in agony, covering his face with his right palm. “This isn’t the outcome that I wanted,” he bemoans, lamenting in his misery.

Hoshi laughs nasally, eyes closing in pure mirth as Y/n continues to pepper kisses on his face. It eggs Mingyu even more as he seethes in irritation.“Okay, stop it, Y/n! Why the fuck are you so pleased at the idea of Hoshi trying to get himself diabetes for you?”

“Oi, that’s too exaggerating, don’t you think?” Hoshi sweatdrops.

Y/n ends her ministration and frowns at Mingyu. “But Mingyu-oppa! If I were in Hoshi’s shoes, I’d do the same! But currently he’s not working in a natto-based restaurant or something, so I shall reward his bravery in some other way!”

“Don’t do it here,” Mingyu snaps, “I’ve cleaned and locked all shit in the back room while you were busy with that idiot. Grab your bag and sweater and just go home.”Teary-eyed, Y/n beams brightly, “I express my sincerest gratitude for you,

Mingyu-oppa!” She exclaims, before dashing to the back room to collect her belongings.“Yeah, yeah,” Mingyu waves her off, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t read too much into it. It’s my last day too, figures I’d do more than usual.”

“Aw, it wouldn’t hurt to admit that you care for her, ‘Mingyu,” Hoshi coos.

“And you!” Mingyu then throws the dancer a resentful look. “You owe me for all of the time you’ve made me into a fucking thirdwheel, bastard!”

At that moment, Y/n has come back, already clad in her warm, oversized sweater, and proceeds to stand next to Hoshi. That’s when an idea strikes him.

“Thirdwheel?” Hoshi asks, tilting his head at Mingyu in a faux innocuousness. He pulls his unsuspecting girlfriend closer by the waist, to which Y/n lets out a soft gasp. “Whatever do you mean by that, Mingyu?”

“Huh?” Mingyu croaks out, widening his eyes when Hoshi lowers his head to Y/n’s face with a shit-eating grin.

“What are you – shit, don’t you two dare making out again – give me a damn break, I’m trying to close the shop here! If you two don’t stop right now, I’m gonna kick out both of you with a fucking broom – oi, did you hear me?! Alright, for fuck’s sake, Y/n, save the moan for later and GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE—“

TROTS AND BONNIE Review

Trigger Warning: This will review a work that often addresses human sexuality, emotional / physical / sexual abuse, and adolescents’ views on same.  Be advised.

. . . 

When I was growing up in the 1950s and early 1960s, two old comic strips that remained popular were J. R. Williams’ Out Our Way and Gene Ahern’s Our Boarding House, both started in the 1920s and, from their daily panels and Sunday pages, never moving out of that decade.  My favorite cartoons on local kid shows were Fleischer Brothers Betty Boop and Popeye cartoons, many of which took place in urban / suburban settings heavily reflective of 1920s and 1930s America.

So when I first encountered Shary Flenniken’s Trots And Bonnie I instantly recognized the flavor and style of the strips.

The content, on the other hand, came straight out of her underground comix pedigree, with the refreshing point of view of the female gaze instead of the admittedly too often misogynistic male cartoonists of the milieu.

Flenniken is one of the best artists and writers to come from the underground era, displaying a confident early mastery of the form (don’t listen to her protestations she really wasn’t good at the start of her career; she clearly ranked among the finest of the underground comix artists).

But the sweet and innocent look of Trots And Bonnie belies the frank and frequently shocking honesty of Flenniken’s work.  

As cartoonist Emily Flake notes in her introduction, “that’s the terrible power of children, the monstrous innocence that makes them capable of anything, a state of being we fatuously describe as ‘pure.’”

Innocence is not synonymous with purity in the world of Trots And Bonnie because the cast lack the moral and cultural filters we acquire as adults.  They are reporting on reality as they see it, and as with all children (and the elderly, and drunks) there’s nothing to stop them from commenting on the foibles of hypocrisy of humanity, nor is there a single iota of shame to hold back their expression.

And when you add the impact of puberty to that mix, holy &#@%, you have no room left for pretense or propriety.

Hold on to your hats, folks, ‘cuz it’s gonna be one helluva ride.

One helluva ride…and a hilarious one, too.

If modern audiences can get past the admittedly often shocking visuals and situations, they’ll find some of the most brilliant coming-of-age comedy ever penned.

The truth is always an absolute defense, and Trots And Bonnie dishes it out lavishly.  Brava to Shary Flenniken for having the courage (or honesty, of lack of filter; take your pick) to pen it, to the original underground comix and National Lampoon to publish it, and to new York Review Comics to bring almost all of it back (Flenniken herself opted to withhold a few strips that she feels might be construed now as hurtful or insulting).

Flenniken is the daughter of a military family, growing up in a variety of climes and places before her father retired in the Seattle area.

She reached adolescence and young adulthood during the hippie era, and the earliest strips cast a fond eye back on that time.

An original member of the infamous Air Pirates crew, she and fellow underground comix artists gained immediate recognition skewering Disney icons.  Air Pirates Funnies and Paul Kassner’s The Realist generated no small amount of tsuris for the House of Mouse in the late 1960s / early 1970s but The Realist, true to its name, possessed to good sense to adhere to the unofficial so-called “one-time fair use parody” rule while the Air Pirates pressed their luck with Air Pirates Funnies #2, resulting in the Disney legal department descending on them like an anvil dropped from orbit.

Crawling away from the wreckage, Flenniken kept contributing to a number of underground venues, creating the first Trots and Bonnie strip for the 1971 underground comix Merton Of The Movement. 

Trots and Bonnie (soon joined by Pepsi, a beguilingly sweet looking elfin-like child with the heart of Germaine Greer, the reproductive organs of Karen Finley, and the mouth of an interstate trucker) popped up in several single page strips and short stories until NatLamp recruited Flenniken in 1972 to be a regular contributor and (briefly) an editor.

NatLamp proved to be the perfect venue for Flenniken and her characters because the magazine possessed the economic mojo and suicidal “Who gives a &#@%?” attitude to publish Trots And Bonnie while at the same time providing a perfect audience of proto-incels who desperately needed some consciousness raising, especially if said consciousness raising arrived in the form of a kick in the groin.

Trots And Bonnie’s tenure at NatLamp lasted slightly more than two decades, but a big hunk of that era saw the Reagan culture wars raging, not to mention much of the country becoming obsessed with a literal modern day witch hunt in the infamous Satanic panic (an apt subject for Flenniken’s characters, but one she wisely avoided, thus following the old military adage, “Never draw fire on your own position.”).

The already edgy material in both NatLamp in general and Trots And Bonnie in particular threatened to be perceived as too edgy by law enforcement, legislators, and judicial authorities who seemed either unwilling or incapable of distinguishing between photographs and video of actual sexual assaults and rapes committed against real children as opposed to crudely drawn Xerox copied mini-comics made by outsider artists with audiences that might possibly number in the dozens.

Flenniken’s willingness to honestly recall the turbulent emotions of early adolescence resulted in stories and strips where prepubescent kids engage in activities and discussions that would be acutely problematic if done today.  Again, the utter lack of self-consciousness in Flenniken’s characters swerves her work away from the low grade smut ground out by many of her male contemporaries and flung open a window on how adolescent females perceived the world around them.

The stories are wildly transgressive, and like all transgressive art can only be understood in the context of their time and mores.  Flenniken’s art carries a sweetness that leavens out the most horrendous situations (she gets astonishing comedic mileage off a story about a woman raped by a police officer, never once blaming or exploiting the victim but lambasting the culture and mindset that makes such a crime possible).

The fact these stories are told from a vibrant feminist / sex positive point of view makes them relevant to this day, and Flenniken’s ability to draw both truth and humor from dysfunctional families, emotional abuse, and drug use keeps them from being one-note exercises.

Most importantly, Flenniken comes across as strongly pro-child, even while honestly depicting her own characters’ failings and misconceptions.

She always brings a genuine emotional connection with her characters as adolescents, neither glorifying nor patronizing them.

One of the most notorious Trots And Bonnie strips finds Bonnie looking at herself in a mirror, fantasizing she’s famous actresses of the past.*  

At the hands and brush of Norman Rockwell, this theme tries for poignant but lands in schmaltz, looking down on an anxious child studying her reflection in a mirror; in far too many bad novels by sub-par male writers, it’s borderline (and often not-so-borderline) pornography.

At the touch of Flenniken’s deft pen, it’s honest and sweet and shockingly frank but it never depicts Bonnie as a figment of the male imagination but as a character and personality all her own.

Flenniken has not done any new Trots And Bonnie strips since the last ones published in NatLamp in 1993.

To be honest, I think that’s a good thing.

The characters are of their particular time and cultural gestalt, it may not be possible to recapture that lightning in a new bottle, and rather than diminish the old, perhaps it best remains a perfect artefact of its era.

Mark Twain tried repeatedly but could never transport Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn out of antebellum Hannibal, and to use an example more contemporary to Flenniken’s work, the Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers resolutely thwart all efforts to move them out of San Francisco during the Summer of Love.

You can’t go home again, as Thomas Wolfe famously observed, but that only applies if you’ve successfully left home.  At a certain point, if you haven’t moved beyond your old confines, you never will.

Flenniken’s honest frankness could have turned into a big crosshair on her back during the cultural wars, but to paraphrase John Lennon, life happened while she was making comix.

She married twice, divorced once, widowed the second time.  While she never completely withdrew from professional illustration, she no longer sought out the high profile gigs.

Trots And Bonnie from New York Review Comics is the first extensive English language compilation of her strips and stories, a very handsomely produced volume designed by Norman Hathaway.

The strips are meticulously presented, making it possible to enjoy Flenniken’s fine line work and exquisite character depictions in greater detail than every before.  It’s a genuine delight, sure to thrill old time fans of the original strip and quite likely to win a new generation of admirers.

But brace yourselves, noobs, this ain’t your grandma’s Betty Boop…

© Buzz Dixon

 *  It should be noted that for all its apparent revolutionary newness, the counterculture of the 1960s and 1970s, the crucible that forged Flenniken’s point of view, also enthusiastically embraced the past.  W. C. Fields and the Marx Brothers became cultural icons to a new generation, Betty Boop regained her old popularity, old movies were rediscovered and reimagined, African-American spirituals and blues sprang from new voices, obscure books and novels from earlier decades and centuries became the new cultural touchstones.

I’ve posted elsewhere on how the boomer generation enjoyed a unique conflation of new technology and old media to produce a brand new synthesis; there has been nothing like it since even with astonishing advances in technology.  When old media is rediscovered and reinterpreted in this era, it too often tends to be in the form of irony, which mocks that which it cannot understand.

Give those old hippies their due -- they got the &#@%ing point!

Survey #310

“i get pretty just to fuck my face up.”

Do you have a clock in your room? No. What book, movie, TV show, or video game have you been wanting to start up? I *want* to read The Testaments by Margaret Atwood, but I care more about reading Wings of Fire, so I probably realistically won't for a long time. I don't read enough for that; Sutherland will surely keep pumping out books in the series so I'll never catch up, haha. As for a movie, I've been interested in seeing Jacob's Ladder for a very long time; it served as a very large influence on the Silent Hill series, and boy, anyone who brings up video games in front of me knows SH is my SHIT. I also just know I'm bound to like it with how essentially legendary it is in the psychological horror genre, which is my favorite. Onto TV show, I'm not certain. Shows don't really interest me. I would like to keep watching A:TLA w/ Sara, but "start up" implies beginning something new, so. Lastly, video games. There are a LOT of games I want to play, but yeah, I have no operational gaming console above a PS2. I'm dyinnnngggggg to play a ton of PS4 remasters (namely the original Spyro the Dragon trilogy and SoTC), but as for a fresh game I've never experienced, Ico, which is from the same producers of Shadow of the Colossus. It's an old game, and Mom's bought it off of Ebay for me twice, but neither disc worked - they froze only minutes into the game. It's hella expensive in new condition though because of its age... so who knows when I'll actually get to play it. Do you put anything else on your grilled cheese sandwiches? Just butter. Have you ever read a book in a different language? I've read some simple fairy tales as well as the play Faust in German courses. Do you want to go to the Harry Potter theme park at Universal? I have no connection with the franchise, but I mean, I'd go if you're paying, haha. If you had a secret room in your house, how would you decorate it? I'm trying to think what kind of room I'd keep a secret... Ha, actually, IF my love of tarantulas expands so largely to having dozens (which I doubt, but I acknowledge the possibility once I get my own place), a room kept on the down low to others just for them would be pretty cool. Imagine someone not knowing they're sharing a house with like, a hundred Ts, haha. As for actual decor, I'm unsure. I'd definitely keep it generally dark for them as nocturnal creatures, maybe with some Halloween decorations, like lots of fake webbing and neon green or orange lights. Man... that sounds dope. What did you get your dad for his last birthday? I couldn't buy him anything, nor did I actually make anything since I didn't know what to create. I just told him happy birthday, of course. Do any of your relatives live in another country? No. Are you claustrophobic? In some spaces, yes. Ever seen Blair Witch? Without spoilers, you know "that part" near the end? Yeah, if you've seen it, you know. That would be a fucking NIGHTMARE for me. Even watching it made me squirm. When grocery shopping, do you usually buy brand names or store brand? With most items anyway, we just get the store brand bc we cheap. Around what time do you usually eat dinner? Generally between 5:30-6:30 nowadays. Do you have any clothing that you get dry cleaned? No. Do you like foods with coconut in it? Eugh, not a coconut fan. I don't hate it as much as I used to, but I still don't like it. Have you ever researched your family history? No, but some past relative researched our family tree. Have you ever had surgery that kept you in the hospital for over a day? No. Do you like carrots more if they’re raw, or cooked? I hate carrots. Did you play with Legos as a kid? Nah, I was more into Lincoln Logs. Which bothers you more… spelling mistakes or bad grammar? It really depends on the severity and simplicity of the spelling or grammar rule. Grammatical misuse of "there/their/they're" stand out very strongly to me, though. Have you ever bought anything off of eBay? Yeah, a good number of things. Is anybody in your family schizophrenic? If so, what is their life like? I have a scizophrenic half-sister that I've never met, so I couldn't tell you. How organized is your mind? How do you know it's organized/disorganized? My mind is running Windows '98 with multiple windows and even more tabs open, all of them not responding. :^) Why do you follow the religion that you do? I don't follow one. My personal religious journey was a train wreck liberating to jump off of. Do you feel superior to others because you're that religion? I don't care if you're atheist, Christian, Buddhist, Islamic, whatever - you are by no means superior to another person in any way just because you believe different things happen once you die. If you do, it's time for some introspection. Are you a blind believer, or do you frequently challenge your own beliefs? Seeing as I went from Catholic to Christian to briefly Neo-Pagan-ish to what I am now, just believing there's some higher power/knowledge and some form of sentience after death, I obviously challenge them. What's the greatest thing about science? Life itself. This universe, this planet, your state of just knowing is a product of science, and that's pretty damn beautiful. Are you emotional or very stolid? I know I'm too emotional. I'm trying to get better about it. Do your siblings look like you? To a degree, but not NEARLY as much as they look like each other. Ashley and Nicole have been mistaken multiple times in their lives and even asked if they're twins. How many states have you lived in? Just this shitty one. How many states have you traveled through/vacationed in? Traveled through, a whole lot. Up and down the east coast. I've stayed in New York, Florida, Ohio, Illinois, South Carolina briefly, and I think possibly Michigan as a baby. Which state was/is your favorite? I don't know. Not NC, haha. You have two weeks alone in any place in the world; where would you go? Alone? Um... I dunno. I'd get lonely through two weeks in absolute isolation. How old were you when you first moved out of your parents' home? I want to say I was 18 when I briefly "moved in" with Jason and our roommates. Did you ever have to move back in? Yeah; the apartment didn't last very long. None of us were ready. How old were you when you thought you were "in love" for the first time? I was in love at 16. I'd fight God literally for eternity to prove that fact. How many exterior doors are in your home? Two, or maybe three, depending on your outlook. We have like this deck in the back with a roof and mesh separating you from the outside, and then you properly go into the yard from the door beyond that. How many cars have you owned? I myself, none. How many email accounts do you have? Ummmm my very first one I misspelled, so I didn't use it long before making a new one with the correct spelling, then later I had no choice but to make a Gmail to use YouTube, and I know I've had at least one email specifically for school. I'm probably forgetting some other oldies I used for small things. What was the last movie you watched alone? The Shining. What (if any) one television program do you watch religiously every day/week? None. What (if any) is your favorite sport? Dance. Scoff at that shit and then try one dance session and tell me it's not one. What is your favorite musical? None. Have you ever seen a live opera production? No. Dressing up for an evening out: Pants or skirt? Pants. I don't show my legs. What do you currently hear right now? I'm listening to Dance With the Dead's "The Man Who Made a Monster." I LOVE the aesthetic of synthwave and rock mixed together, but the only problem I have with this song is that it's very repetitive. Still stuck in my head though, haha. What type of survey do you refuse to take? I'm not into bolding surveys, specifically. Do you like to run? bitch fuck no Do you think you could run the mile in 10 minutes? Zero chance. What was the longest movie you watched? Hm, I don't remember... It's faintly there in my head, I just can't identify it... Have you ever been to a job interview? Well yeah. Who was the last person to call you? My psychiatrist. Now that I'm doing the partial hospitalization program again, he calls once a week. When was the last time you talked to your last ex boyfriend? Uhhh I think around the start of this month? Missed him and felt like chatting for a bit. Is your dog mixed or full? I don't have a dog, buuuut... we're getting one soon! I'm quite sure she's a mutt. What was the last thing you and your mother did together? Rode to the pharmacy to pick up my meds. Do you take good pictures? I like to think so. What is your display picture on myspace/facebook right now? The most recent selfie I took and liked. I'm finally comfortable using makeupless photos as a display picture. :') Not that I like my body by any means, I just don't care enough to feel like I HAVE to wear makeup to be even remotely pretty in the face. As for everywhere else... ahahaha. What is going on outside right now? It's raining. Like it has been for what feels like literally weeks - and it might actually have been. There's been one or two sunny days in a huge streak of just nothing but rain. It's so gross outside by now; we've been under a flood warning for days on end. Who was the last person you kissed? My best friend, but we were dating then. What color looks the best on you? Black. Have you ever bought the wrong size because you were too lazy to check it? Oh, absolutely. I LOATHE trying on clothes. You have to essentially drag me to go do it. I don't have a good reason other than I don't want to, lol. What was the last thing you bought over 5 dollars? I put down the deposit on my tattoo. c: Do you have any mag subscriptions? No. What is something you're not scared of but a lot of people are? Snakes are probably the highest on the list. I adore snakes, all snakes. Would you ever have a threesome? No; I'm strictly monogamous and to me would be cheating even if your partner was in on it. Are you an U.S. citizen? Yep. Do you have any step siblings? I have a stepbrother, yeah, but I don't see him as my brother, honestly. He's a very quiet and reclusive guy I've had almost no conversations with, and they've only ever been short. Do they annoy you? Nah, he's fine. How many times a day do you talk to your mom on the phone? Well, we live together... What did you wear yesterday? The same pjs I'm in now. I'm changing when I take a shower later. The tank top is a Day of the Dead-esque skull pattern, while the pants are mostly navy with skulls and candy can crossbones that say "nice until proven naughty" arching over and beneath them. They were a Christmas gift from my sis and are really soft and comfortable. Really don't care that it's now out of season, I wear them anyway. I do not match colors AT ALL, but again, I don't care. What color straightener do you have? We don't have one; neither Mom or I use one. Do you listen to music really loud or really low? Turn that shit up LOUD. I'll be nearly deaf one day, but... worth it? lol Do you live with anybody other than your siblings and your parents? No. Both my sisters have moved out. I'm still here because I'm just not emotionally or financially equipped to live on my own yet. Who was your last crush? I still like my best friend, but agree with her that right now isn't the time for anything. How many tattoos do you have? Currently only six. :( What is your favorite thing to do? Car rides with Mom while I ride passenger, controlling the music nice and loud with my iPod. It's odd, considering I'm very afraid of being on the road, but it's just such a freeing, wild feeling to blare music and just go, letting your mind wander. How many pets do you own? I only have a cat and a snake right now, but we're getting a dog hopefully very soon, preferably today actually when Mom has to go to the appropriate city for her normal check-up to keep her cancer at bay. Her name is Vanna and sounds so perfect for us. Mom can barely wait. Are you close with your parents? Yes, very, Mom especially. Where do you shop the most for your clothes? Hot Topic or Wal-Mart. I'd really like more stuff from Rebel's Market; they have such a wide range of stuff that just scream my aesthetic. I got my purse from there, and it's fantastic quality and so cool-looking. Have you ever read a whole series of books? Well, one trilogy that I remember: Shiloh. I adored those books and the movies. I got very, very deep into Warriors by Erin Hunter, but then my interest in reading waned, and I'm immensely behind. I don't think I'll pick it up again, but I've thought briefly about it. When you tell someone you love them do you mean it? Yes. Are you going to walk at your graduation or just pick your diploma up? I walked. Do you ever eat anything everybody else thinks is gross? Hm, perhaps. I'd have to think for a while. What did you do for your last birthday? I just ate pizza at home with my one sister that was free that day, Mom, and a family friend, as well as opened presents. What do you plan on doing for your 18th birthday? I don't recall, but I think that may have been when I was in the psych hospital. Or was that my 21st? I don't remember. Do you have to type with good grammer? Yes. I type pretty much exactly how I talk. What is your favorite quote? It's hard to pick one singular favorite. Are you allowed to cuss in front of your parents? Dad could care less, but I try to limit myself with Mom, especially with "fuck." She's not a fan, nor does she like if I just swear too much in front of her. Like she won't yell at me or anything, she just makes it clear she wants me to stop. How long was your last phone conversation? Just a couple minutes. I didn't get the Zoom link to group therapy one day and let the place know. Turns out their email was fucking up. Which one of your friends annoy you? The family friend I mentioned a few questions above has the ability to be incredibly aggravating. I love her, but she has zero issue with inserting herself into everything (and sometimes we just don't want to see her), and she voices incredibly rude opinions literally no one asks for a whoooole lot. She's got a strong tendency to try to take control over every situation. Her being our landlord now makes it harder to speak up, and besides, no one wants to hurt her feelings. Don't be mistaken though, she truly is an incredible person with a heart more caring than probably any person I know. Have you ever lost a close friend to death? No, thank fuck. I mean, I think. I do believe one of my childhood online friends committed suicide because of sexual abuse from her own fucking brother, but I guess I'll never know. She was talking to me one night horribly depressed and scared and then just vanished. Bless her, I loved her. Do you know someone who suffers from addiction? Yes. Do you have a lot of pictures in your room? Tons of posters and artwork, anyway. I currently don't have any photographs, but I got this shadowbox thing for my bday to decorate with pictures of Teddy so I can use it in my "tribute shrine" or whatever for him, and I'd also like to frame the picture of Sara's and my first hug and maybe put it on my bedside table. Do you have Facebook? Yeah, I do. Have you ever found a dog/cat on the side of the road? I myself, no, but a friend's mom did find two poor kittens thrown aside in a fucking plastic bag... Some people are abominable. Knowing how much my family loved cats, she reached out to us, and we took them in and named them Aphrodite and... I can't remember the other's name. She disappeared kinda early. Aphrodite wound up being one of my most beloved cats and was even the mother of a kitten that same family adopted. Delilah is still alive, doing wonderfully, and incredibly loved. <3 Aphrodite, meanwhile, as well as all our other cats at the time, were taken by animal control because our neighbors were tired of them wandering, even though they were too fucking cowardly to confront us first. I've said in many surveys that I am very much against outdoor cats, but I wasn't then because I was uninformed and really didn't understand. I wailed and sobbed and just pure shrieked like a banshee outside when we came home to learn they were taken. I have no clue how any are now, and that's the worst part. Do you go bowling in your town? We are in the middle of a pandemic, lol. Even beforehand though, I rarely went. Last time I did was on a date with Girt. We had fun. Do you have a drive-in theater? No sir. What brand is your favorite shoe? Converse. Is your best friend's mom like your own? They're quite similar, yes. Both are very sweet and caring for others. Do you have anxiety or depression? Try both. What is your favorite fast food restaurant? Sonic. Do you own a pair of brass knuckles? Nah. Have you and your friends ever made up a word? Likely as kids. Do you have any embarrassing baby pictures of yourself? Not that I know of. What is the worst smell in the world? Anyone remember that survey I took mentioning my dog's old tumor? Yeah, that after he spent overnight in a diaper and inevitably peed himself in his old age. And he had a UTI. You probably can't even imagine how fucking vomit-inducing that smell was. Do you dye your hair a lot? No. :/ I really wish. I have so many colors I wanna try. Do you have anybody in your family who rides dirtbikes/fourwheelers? Not really? No one in my family owns one. My younger sister would totally go if you asked her and had one for her to use, though. She's done it plenty before. Have you ever rode a dirtbike/fourwheeler? Yeah, a fourwheeler, and it's really fun! Tell me how you got one of your scars? Hmmm, let's think of a unique one. Ah, my shins, left one especially. When I shave my legs, they get unbelievably itchy, even if I use lotion, and I would scratch my skin absolutely raw so often that I have permanent scars. It's partially why I barely shave my legs anymore. Have you ever had a friend who cut themselves? I know many, sadly. I don't know of any that still do, thankfully. I promise, it never helps. If you ever have the urge, I can't suggest enough running where you want to self-harm under cold water or slap the location (like your wrist) with a rubber band. The latter is especially helpful. It's a similar burning sensation and doesn't leave marks. It would help me refrain sometimes. What is your favorite thing to do in the summer? Swim in a nice, warm pool. Otherwise, become a hermit and wait for the outdoors to not be prepared to melt the flesh off my bones. x_x Do you go tanning or do you lay out? Neither, ugh. As you can guess from above, I hate the sensation of heat on me. What is your favorite skin lotion? I just really like cocoa butter. Smells really good and is perfectly moisturizing. Do you use a lot of hair products? The only hair product I use is shampoo, haha. Do you have a cousin you dislike? No. Well, one is incredibly brainwashed and misled by her psychopath of a father, but I love her nonetheless. We talk now and again because family is important to her. Have you ever heard Theory of a Deadman? Yeah, they're good. What is your comfort food? Absolutely ice cream. Who is your celebrity crush? Mark Fischbach/Markiplier is a perfect human being with the looks of a god and heart of a saint and you cannot convince me otherwise. What’s the song you most wish you had written? "Imagine" by John Lennon is a high contendant, for sure. Definitely something I'd write. Have you ever been stuck by someone very annoying on a plane/bus/etc? I think so at one point or another. Did you get lost at all on your first day of high school? Ha, for sure. Have you ever been interrupted during sex? A bitch knows how to act asleep if she hears a door so much as barely squeak, I'll tell you that much lmaooo. Have you ever been recorded doing stupid things while drunk? No. Has a significant other ever called you by the wrong name? No. Have you ever cooked anything and it turned out horrible? I've barely actually cooked anything in order TO fuck up. Have you ever made a bad first impression on someone’s parents? I can't say with certainty, but I think Jason's mom had her doubts about me at first because she commented on the ripped jeans I wore when I went to his house for the first time. She came to love me like her own though, and I love(d) her. I was actually just thinking about her and how she's doing the other day. What is a food that you always are in the mood to eat? Always? Perhaps sour candy, like Sour Punch Straws in specific. Ever held a newborn animal? Many kittens, yes. Do you make a wish when you blow out your birthday candles? I do, but just for the annual appeal of it. I don't actually believe it will have any effect on what I wished, it's just... normal, ig. What is the last thing you searched for online? Medical coding classes. Having trouble finding any free ones that are actually legit... Is it wicked hard for you to sleep when it's hot in your room? It's borderline impossible. Do you dunk your cookies in milk? Sometimes, and almost always with Oreos. Do medical terms make you uncomfortable? Ha, speaking of medical coding... No, not really. It's unnerving to hear "you have _____," but I understand it can be something so, so minor. Of course, it could be the exact opposite, but. I also actually find it quite interesting to learn the Latin roots of the terms. Are you afraid of failure? Beyond measure. Have you been called a bad influence? Yes, to my former friend's son. Not that that witch of a woman was a great person. I'd love to know how an infant can be negatively affected by receiving nothing but love from his "aunt," also having no concept of understanding about me being unemployed and not very "adult-ish" in general, which I'm sure is what she meant. Normally judgment hits me deep, but that shit I just rolled my eyes at.

Tanked

The Guide to the Unique Hobby of Aquascaping

           Imagine yourself sitting at the doctor’s office in the waiting room. There are small plastic toys strewn around the room for kids to use as they wait impatiently. Flyers and pamphlets all around the walls with information about your health. And lastly, sitting at waist height is an aquarium with fish and corals covering the bottom of the tank. While many people think of aquariums as places to hold aquatic pets’ others find it to be a bit more than just that.

Aqua-scaping and aquarium building is an extremely fascinating art. When asked what art is many people will give you answers like “paintings,” “Sculptures,” and even films, but if you ask an aquascape enthusiast you’ll probably get the answer, “living.” In many ways an aquarium is a living piece of art created by someone with a keen eye for what looks natural and still beautiful in its own manmade way.

           Many different bits and pieces of what makes art, are displayed in aquascapes and aquariums all around the planet. Textures, lines, colors, all these factors are key to creating a unique aquascape environment. The colors of aquatic plants have a large range and can make or break an aquascape. Certain plants like the Rotala H’ra which is a long-stemmed plant that slowly turns red as it grows towards the light add an element that can bring more life and color to an aquarium where many plants tend to be bright and green-leafed.

Spencer Johndro, an aquarium expert at Petco offered some interesting information regarding the small details behind aqua-scaping, “Creating a natural aquascape is not as easy as many beginners believe it to be.  There are a lot of pieces that can make or break the scape.” He continued to share with me that the flow of water is important to reach around the entirety of the tank so that there is not algae built up along the edges and bottom. “Algae can severely damage your plants as it acts as competition for nutrients in the water column as well as blocking the light for the plants.”

I remember my passion for aquascaping starting during my first winter break from Endicott College. Being home for so long with too much free time gave me time to explore the internet and then one day I found a small YouTube channel “Foo the Flowerhorn.” They created short videos with many different aquascapes which were very eye-catching. Remembering the first video I saw from their channel was a video of a Volcano themed aquascape that was overgrown by moss as water flowed down the edges of the lava rack positioned like Mt. Vesuvius. I just had to try it!

           In the process of creating an own aquascape you have to consider the size of my aquarium as well as the information Mr. Johndro offered me. For me, I had a small cube aquarium that is 10.5inx10inx10in and holds roughly three gallons of water inside. Not very much for space but still enough to get a unique scape created. I was also going to implement a small filter and a heater to keep the aquarium at an ideal temperature. “Filters are vital to creating a sustainable ecosystem and without one that there are many possibilities for bad health in your fish and plants,” Spencer said. I knew in my head I wanted a small piece of hardscape, which generally means a rock formation comprised of smaller rocks or even some bogwood to create hiding spots and cover for fish. “Adding hardscape is really important for creating breaks in the plant-life as all that green can washout the aquascape.” At Petco there were not many options for hardscape, but one piece of bogwood managed to stand out.

After grabbing the hardscape and the plants I wanted to use in order to create my aquascape I looked into finding water conditioner that would allow for the plants to take nutrients from the surface as well as in the substrate. The substrate is the bottom layer of gravel and sand that covers the floor and is one of the most important pieces of the aquascape. Without it, keeping the plants and the nutrients in the soil would be difficult and harmful to any fish living in the scape.

With all the materials I needed I was ready to get started. I first with the substrate, I put some old pebbles along the bottom of the tank and stuck root tabs which are nutrient rich tablets useful for plant growth “and long-term sustainability.”

Then I covered it in sand in order to keep those nutrients within the substrate and not escaping into the water column. I grabbed my small log and slid it into a position I thought would work best for the scape. It was a tight squeeze but looked really good as it found its way to a natural position.

Now it was time for the plants. I had to poke small holes into substrate in order to plant the flowers very similar to how people plant flowers in gardens. Once I placed my plants into position, I covered the holes back up making sure the plants would not come free from the sand.

I began the long process of filling the aquarium up with water from the tap and as I did the sand began to move around on the bottom, but quickly settled into a resting position.

As I filled the aquarium up with water the plants began to lift their leaves upward stretching upward towards my ceiling. I reached into my Petco bag and pulled out my two secret weapons, ‘API Quick Start’ and ‘AQUEON Aquarium Plant Food.’ The quick start formula allows for, well, a quick start to an aquarium allowing for the immediate introduction of fish and other aquatic critters. “I personally enjoy API’s products as they have always provided me with the best support in the stores aquariums as well as back home.”

I remembered I still needed to put my filter and heater in the aquarium and realized the log would have to move to make things fit. I moved pieces around and finally came to a conclusion with my final product, a small and quite cramped looking scape, but nothing a fish or small invertebrate would not call home.

I put a spell on you (m)

drabble/short story

◦ pairing: Jimin | reader (ft. Namjoon)

◦ genre: halloween themed, smut

◦ word count: 3.7k 

◦ warnings: sexual themes, dry humping, dirty talk

◦ abstract: Your best friend managed to convince you to go to the Beta Tau Sigma Halloween party and things get an interesting turn...

Never, in your most crazy dreams, you’ve imagined you’d fell in love with Park Jimin. The greatest playboy in town.

This is going to sound cliché, but you are a normal girl. You have good grades. You never break the curfew. You enjoyed going to parties (although you hated crowds) but never got wasted enough to do indecencies. You were good. But that didn’t matter when Jimin allured you to not fuck him not once, but twice. Like you were under a spell. Maybe that’s the same reason you accepted being his fuck buddy for the last 3 months until feelings got in between and you decided to end things for good.

"You are crazy if you think I'll go to that party."

"Oh, come on!"

"No," you repeat, glaring at your best friend, Lisa.

"Please, ___. It's just one party. It's The Halloween party. You know Beta Tau Sigma throws the best parties. You can't let a certain blonde guy affect your social life!"

"He has nothing to do with it. I’m just not in the mood..."

“Right,” she gives the ‘I don’t believe your bullsh%t look’.

“Okay, fine. I don’t want to see him.”

She tsks. "You can't just avoid him your whole life," she points out. She dishes up the scrambled eggs she made for breakfast and hands you your cup of coffee. 

"Not my whole life. Only until we graduate and I don't need to see him again." Yeah, you know you sound kind of pathetic.

"Sweetie, it is a Beta Tau Sigma party. There will be hundreds of people. You could meet a cute guy, dance a little, have some booze and get laid. You'll forget that blonde by the end of the week!"

Lisa has a point. Since you ended things, he is the only thing you could think about. You are a breakdown away to go nuts. After the ‘breakup’, you kept yourself busy with a personal project. But now that you have finished it, you desperately need a distraction. The party indeed offers it, but then again it is a party at his frat house. He will be there and you are not sure if you are ready to see him again. In the end, you accept, because no one says 'no' to Lisa and you need to forget Park Jimin.

It took you all morning and half of the noon to find the perfect costume. You and Lisa arrive at the Beta Tau Sigma frat house around eight. You are not surprised it is already packed with people. Seeing many people having fun and the music blasting from the inside makes you buzz with both excitement and anxiety. 

“What are you wearing again?” Lisa asks you and you do your best not to roll your eyes. You both are walking towards the main entrance.

“I told you earlier, I am K/DA Akali. You know, from the videogame.”

“Right, I’m sorry,” she giggles. You know Lisa is not very fond of video games.

“Why didn’t you put on the angel costume? You look bomb with that.”

You blush a little with that, “Thank you but I used it last year…”

Your friend is dressed as Gamora. It was a pain in the ass to help her paint her upper body green, but she looks stunning.

Your friend’s inquisitive eyes scan you one last time, “Well, you look bomb with this one, too.”

“Well, I am not using it because I look bomb; I am using it because she is my…. Nevermind.”

Your friend stopped paying attention to your conversation the moment the both of you entered the front door and saw Jung Hoseok, a mutual friend, waving at you. She isn’t even trying to hide her crush on him. Not a little. She flew immediately to greet him. You couldn’t blame her. Hobi looks handsome dressed as Leon Kennedy. With a smile, you follow after her. 

A bunch of your friends are hanging out near the kitchen and Hoseok gently poured drinks for you and Lisa. Then, he kidnapped her to the improvised dance floor with the biggest of smiles. They look cute together. You like Hoseok. He is one of the fewest boys at the frat who is genuinely gentle and friendly. Before leaving, Lisa winks at you as if saying 'It's your turn to look out for your man" and she runs holding Hoseok's hand before you could even glare at her.

You glance at your male friends. First, there was Seokjin. An art and theater major. He is really, really handsome. The type to make your knees weak every time he smiles at you. The bad thing is he has the tendency to date his co-stars and has an ego bigger than this house. So, he was a 'no'.

Then, there is Yoongi. A music production major. He is the mysterious handsome; the type to not let anything out (or anyone in) until he trusted you enough. He's been dating one of your closest friends for over a year.

And there is Hoseok, of course.

For the next couple of hours, you hang out with your friends; chatting, drinking, even having a couple of rounds of Beer Pong. Nothing out of the ordinary. After a while, Lisa dragged you to the dance floor. You are not very good at dancing but you don't care. It is fun and you are with your friends.

You are already a little tipsy and maybe that is one of the reasons you accidentally bump into someone, spilling the contents of his cup in the process, thirty minutes later.

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry!"

"Nah, don't worry. This is probably a sign to stop drinking tequila," he jokes and you can't help but laugh. He's cute. The dim light of the room doesn't let you see how he looks like but his voice is deep and sultry. "I'm Namjoon. Are you all alone in here?"

Your eyes go slightly wide and you just hope he didn't notice. How you managed to meet the leader of the fraternity beats you. Then you remember Lisa's words and the whole purpose of coming to this party in the first place.

"I'm ___ and no, my friends are…" When you turn around, Lis and Hoseok are gone. "...nowhere to be seen."

He chuckles, "Do you want something to drink?" He offers with a smile.

What’s the worst that could happen?

You shrug. "Yeah."

10 minutes later, you are both in the kitchen.

"So, let me tell you: I admire how you manage to lead 30 young men where many of them only care about how many times can they get their dicks wet,” you wiggle your brows and lean your arms against the counter.

Namjoon laughs out loud and your chest swells with pride.

"Yeah, it is hard most of the times but they have become my family. My brothers. I’ll do anything for them."

“That’s so sweet,” you comment with a smile. Now that you can look at him properly, you notice how handsome he is: tall, ashy brown hair, dimpled smile…

“What about you? What is your major?” he asks as he poured another drink for you. “Do you want tequila? or do you prefer something else?”

“Tequila is fine,” you reply. “I’m majoring in graphic design. My biggest dream is to design and create video games.”

“Wow! That’s so cool!” he exclaims, displaying his dimples. He handed you your drink and you take a small sip. “I hope you can achieve your dream.”

You look at your hands so you can hide your blushing. “Thank you. What about you?”

Suddenly, the kitchen gets packed with people looking for something to drink. Namjoon, to your surprise, notices your discomfort right away.

“Do you want to go someplace quieter?”

You nod and follow him out of the room. He leads you through the house. You've been a lot of times at the frat house, but Namjoon leads you through a hallway you've never seen before. He opens a pair of mahogany doors and what you see inside surprises you.

It looks like what you've imagined a secret society room would look like. Inside, you visualize a decent amount of people. Between 20 and 30 in comparison to the hundreds of people outside. There is a pool table in the corner and enough liquor in the minibar to satisfy everyone in the room.

"I couldn't help but notice your costume. Is that… Akali?"

Wait...

Your face illuminates as a Christmas tree. "You recognized it."

He chuckles and takes a sip of his drink as he takes a sit in one of the many couches.

"Well. One of my frat brothers is obsessed with video games. So I knew I saw her somewhere."

You nod. You know exactly who he is talking about.

"Jeon Jungkook. My Nemesis. Smart and talented, but he is not going to get my scholarship."

He laughs at your outburst and god, you love his laugh. It is then when you notice he is wearing a costume too. You were too busy drooling over his good looks earlier.

"And you are…?"

He is dressed like a Victorian boy but you don't recognize if he is supposed to be a famous character or not.

"I am Shakespeare! Or at least, I am supposed too."

You face-palm internally.

"Is that weird? I wasn't planning on showing at the party but my roommate convinced me. This was the only costume I had…" He scratches the back of his neck.

"No! You look good!"

He smiles shyly, "Thank you."

For the next hour, you discover it is so easy to talk to him. The conversation flows smoothly as if he is an old friend you’ve not seen in ages instead of a stranger you just met. It is like you could tell him anything. It turns out Namjoon majors in Literature, which explains the choice of his costume. You could discuss with him any topic. Literally. First, you start to talk about movies, and it ends deciding each other's top five based on argument, character, actors, and directors. Then, the topic changes to music and Namjoon confesses his biggest dream: being a lyricist. Then, the topic changes to Global Warming (god knows why), which leads to a Namjoon's speech about how we help the planet more not having kids rather than just recycling.

Another thing Namjoon was really good? Kissing. You know it the moment your lips attached to his. Or his lips attached to yours? At this point, you don't know who kissed who first and you don't care.

He starts slow, tasting the waters. There is no rush. You are content with the way his lips brush gently against yours. He is intoxicating. He tastes bittersweet, the combination of liquor and soda.

You are merely conscious about the song playing in the background but you swear you'll remember the lyrics forever.

But darling just kiss me slow, Your heart is all I own…

At some point, you end up sitting on his lap. The mood between you two changes. You start to caress the nape of his neck, running your fingers through his soft hair from time to time. He starts to massage the exposed skin of your thigh, sending tingles all over your body.

"Do you want to take this to somewhere more… private?" He asks, his voice deeper than before.

"I'd love that," you already feel the excitement starting to feel your veins. But of course. Your body also has to embarrass yourself in front of the handsome man. "Don't laugh, okay? But I need to go to the bathroom first."

Of course, your body chooses this exact moment to pee.

He starts chuckling, his whole body vibrating underneath you. "I swear is not just an excuse to run away," you promise him. Your cheeks are burning.

"You are sure something else," he murmurs against your neck. "Okay. I'll wait for you here."

Once you finished your business inside the bathroom, something really strange happened. Just as quickly as you opened the door, someone enters the room (as if they were waiting for the perfect opportunity to do so) and avoids your escape.

Your heart starts hammering rapidly inside your chest.

“Wait!” you yell. “Let me out first you perv!”

The newcomer doesn’t pay any attention to you and closes the door.

“I am going to call the police, you-! ... Jimin!?” you can’t believe what your eyes are seeing. “You scared the hell out of me, you idiot!” You punch him in the arm with all the force you can muster.

"Ouch!" He exclaims as he rubs his arm. "I wanted to talk to you but you have had company all the time!"

"Why you didn't come to me in the first place like normal people do!" You yelled again.

"I don't know. I panicked, okay? You've been avoiding me since summer and I didn't know what else to do…"

You sigh, trying to calm your nerves. You take the opportunity to look at him. He looks handsome on his pirate costume. With his leather tight jeans, white shirt, and boots. But that's something Jimin always does –he will always look handsome.

"What do you want, Jimin?" You finally ask him.

"I miss you," he confesses looking straight to your eyes and making you gulp. “I miss us. I miss what we had… Why did you leave?”

He takes a few steps forward, dangerously close to you. Instinctively, you take a step back. If he touches you, you are doomed. You are weak when it comes to him.

“I-I wanted something more and we both know you can’t and don’t want that. Compromise. Strings.”

Your words sound bitter and you don’t know with whom you are angrier: with Jimin because he made you fall in love with him or with yourself because you fell with a player in the first place.

“Didn’t you miss me?” his voice is low.

“No,” to your surprise your voice doesn't quiver. He knows you are lying. He knows you too well.

“You are lying,” a little smirk appears on his lips. He is so used to be desired. He takes another step closer to you. To your misfortune, your back is already pressing the wooden door of the bathroom. There’s no escape and he is so so close. His face is mere inches away from yours. His breath brushes the skin of your lips.

“I’ll ask again. Did you miss me?”

He doesn’t wait for your response though. He is already kissing you. Jimin is good at this. He knows how to brush his lips against yours with enough force to make your head spin and your knees turn to jelly. He knows the amount of time he needs to wait before he can leak his way inside the crevice of your sweet lips, taking your breath away.

“You look stunning with your costume,” he whispers against your lips. To prove his point, his fingers caressed the exposed skin of your abdomen. You shudder at the sensation. His hands snake down your legs and he lifts you. You instinctively place both legs around his waist and you both sigh when his half-hard member touches your clothed core. 

“Ah, I can feel you are already wet. Is it for me only or you’ve been having fun with another man?” He tugs your earlobe with his teeth.

“What I do or don’t do with other people is not of your business.”

“Hmm, is that so?”

He squeezes your ass with both hands as he thrust his hips hard into yours. You tug the locks of his blonde hair as you moan softly against his lips. You hate the control he has over your body. He drives you crazy.

“Then why are you here with me instead of going back with your friend?” You hate to admit it but right now the only thing you can think of is Jimin and how good he is making you feel.

“Shut up,” you say before tugging him by the neck and attaching his lips with yours.

This time, the kiss is more sloppy. Hungry. Teeth clashing, tongues fighting over dominance. Licking and biting. His hips keep rolling into yours.

“I’ve missed this so much,” he whispers against your neck, biting and kissing the spot that makes you moan loudly. “I miss how your sweet and wet cunt feels against my cock. How you moan underneath me when I hit spots inside of your no one else can. How hard your walls squeeze my dick every time I make you cum. I bet you’ve missed that, too.”

He builds a merciless pace, rubbing his member against your core hard and fast. It doesn’t matter you both are still with your clothes on. You can feel everything. Until now, you’ve never thought you’d be into dry humping. You didn’t see the point in that. But Jimin is good at anything and he exceeds any expectations.

“Moan for me, baby. I want to hear you,” Jimin murmurs as his lips start a trail down your neck. Jimin knows you are not that vocal. That’s why he loves every time he makes you scream his name.

He pushes your jacket aside to expose your shoulders. He licks and bites the skin there before arriving at your chest. With one finger, he moves down your top so he can have some fun with one of his favorites of your body.

You are so wet right now that your underwear is ruined. At some point, you start to meet his hip-thrust with yours midway. He is hitting all the right spots. Even your clit is having some delicious friction. Your hands find purchase on his hair, tugging the locks hard every time he bites hard your sensitive nipples.

His warm hands are resting on your waist, his fingers caressing the soft skin. His hips rolling against yours. His lips and teeth attacking your chest. Everything is making the knot inside your belly get tighter and tighter.

“Jimin, please don’t s-stop. I-I’m going to cum soon…” you manage to say between ragged breaths. 

He kisses you hungrily one last time, putting all his energy on his hips to make you fall over the edge. It only takes another hot minute before you do so. Spams overtake your body as you see starts behind your eyelids. You dig your nails into his scalp and he grunts. Jimin rolls his hips harder against your own. You bite your lower lip to avoid moaning too loud. You are in the frat bathroom where anyone could here you. And you didn’t lock the door! You stay in the same position while you calm down. Then, Jimin helps you until you can stand properly. Your legs are still shaking with the aftershocks of your orgasm. You even sit in the toilet to regain your breath. 

It takes the rest of the toilet paper and half an hour to clean yourself up. You look yourself in the mirror. Your pupils are still blown, your cheeks are flushed and your lips bruised with so many kissing. Your hair is a mess and your hat is somewhere on the floor.

“The reason I wanted to talk to you is…” Jimin starts behind you, rather shyly. “I want to be with you.”

His voice is too low you don’t think you heard him right. You stop arranging your makeup to turn around and look at him with wide eyes.

“What?”

“I want to be with you,” he repeats, louder. You haven’t seen him like that before. He seems… worried that you’d turn him down. Men like him don’t deal with rejection many times in his life.

“Why?”

"B-because I can't stop thinking about you. About us. And I-" he's having a hard time getting the right words to say. "You are not going to help me with this, do you?" Jimin runs a hand through his hair, frustrated.

You shake your head and lean against the sink, giggling. It is something new seeing him like this. Park Jimin, a man of words, is speechless in front of you. It is kind of cute. You clear your throat. You need to get serious.

“Jimin, a relationship is not a game. You can’t run away when things get difficult; or when you find a prettier or hotter girl. A relationship is a commitment.”

He takes your hands in his, “I understand that. Call me crazy, but I feel like what we had was everything but just physical. I felt like I could talk to you about anything and you wouldn’t judge. Like I could be myself in front of you instead of the persona I built for other people. I liked how that felt. I am willing to stop the games, the lies, and the one-night-stands if that means I have an opportunity to be with you.”

“Are you talking seriously? You want that?”

“Yeah.”

You try to look at any sign that could tell you he’s lying. But you find any. A part of you feels like you’ll end being heartbroken. But another part of you is willing to take the risk. Brave ones probably don’t live that long, but cautious don’t live at all.

You just hope you won’t regret your decision.

“Okay.”

“Really?”

He pulls you to give you a soft peck as a big smile spreads across his face. The type that makes his eyes turn into beautiful crescent moons.

“Really.”

He holds you tight. “What you have done to me?”

“I put a spell on you,” you joke and you both chuckle.

You give him a peck before opening the bathroom door.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“I need to apologize to someone first,” you answer. “But we can meet at your room in 20... for round two.” You wink.

His bright smile is the last thing you see before you close the door behind you.

TO BE CONTINUED?

Meitantei Conan: Karakuri Jiin Satsujin Jiken

My review will focus on the "Murder at the Temple of Karakuri" episode (featured in the cartridge shown above), since it's the one I played thoroughly, but it needs to be said that all five games look very similar and apart from, obviously, the different plots -or the lack of colour in case of the two gray cartridge games- they all feature the same mechanics and controls, along with the same quality in audio and graphics department. Later games might also show a few cosmetic upgrades but nothing experience changing.

After choosing our save slots out of the possible three, we're immediately launched into the opening cutscene, giving us context for the upcoming investigation. Right off the bat, the Meitantei Conan videogame shows offs some rather impressive backgrounds and spriteworks, with nice panorama views of the places we're visiting as the protagonist and portraits of the speaking characters, which also change expression depending on their speech lines. The soundtrack isn't immense, but definitely has solid tunes, too: the title screen even plays the main theme straight from the anime! This elaborate sound and video combination makes it feel like we're watching an actual toon episode. As soon as the initial scenes are done, we're off of "cutscene mode" and into "investigation mode", which controls and feels exactly like a classic top-view RPG for Game Boy, with the prerogative that Conan can run and move diagonally. Suck it, mainline Pokèmon games!

In this particular chapter, Conan's gang is initially tasked with finding Satomi Togawa, one of Ran’s friends who has recently gone missing. The search leads them to an ancient temple in the mountains, once home to a ninja clan and therefore still filled with traps, but that now hosts several people. Conan plans to look around discreetly, but all changes when one of the other characters living in the temple, Yuuji, is found dead in his room. Police arrives to the place, and the kidnapping investigations are moved aside in favour of the murder ones. During the game, Conan can obviously look around interacting with various objects and characters to round up clues and/or solve a few puzzles, but he has also other tricks up his sleeve- er I mean, main menu: by pressing Start we gain access to the Map (useful in order to memorize the most complex exploring areas), Character Profiles that display name, picture and basic info of everyone we've encoutered in our adventure (a feature strikingly similar to Phoenix Wright's Court Records), and last but not least all the Key Words of the case: this section pretty much gathers up all clues, thoughts and discoveries we find during the game and by "Considering" them (simply clicking on them, that is) Conan comes up with associations and ideas. If pressed in the right order until a coherent line of thoughts gets formed, the story will progress and new "scenes" are unlocked until the culprit is caught and their motives and modus operandi are explained. We can also stick close to the crime scene and examine the body and murder weapon, which are represented with perfectly gruesome close ups, and thoroughly described where the Game Boy's pixel screen reaches its true limit; we get a description of wounds, state of the body, and approximate time of death, all useful information in order to unveil the mystery. This chapter in particular also had an interesting murder puzzle with seemingly more than one killer at the same time, which made the experience even more pleasant to discover. Among some secondary game mechanics, the player may come across a few multiple choice answers of which only one is correct and guarantees progress; however, if the other two are chosen, there's seemingly no other malus than making Conan act like an idiot, though without changing the order or nature of future events. Conan can also "swap" roles with other playing characters if he talks to them (for example, while in the Karakuri temple we also have the choice of fooling around as Ran or Kogoro). This is not necessary in order to complete the case, but I understand it could be a welcomed touch for fans of the series that would like to experience a certain scene from different point of views; quite infact, it's interesting and funny to see how different characters react to clues or interactions, and NPCs also respond differently depending on who they're talking to. For example, suspects have a hard time responding to Conan while the police is investigating because they feel like it's not a kid's business; also, we learn that Kogoro is a record breaking asshole, as considering Key Words with him leads to absolutely nothing.

After all requirements are met and we're ready to point the finger at whodunit, one final puzzle is triggered in form of a questionnaire: similar to Gyakuten Kenji's logic thinking, Conan tries to summarize the case and put all events and intrigues in order with a series of questions that the player must reply correctly. However unfortunately it seems that just like the other multiple choices we get through the main game, these ones too end up feeling kinda useless for the unfolding of the events. Unmasking the culprit feels kinda a letdown, sadly, as it is presented not as an interactive section but rather as a long cutscene that, as said before, is not even influenced by how many answers the player got right during the "recapping" inner monologue. We don't even get to shoot Kogoro with sleeping needles; the game does it all by itself. That was very unnerving and unexpected, especially for an investigation game, and frankly the most negative point about it. We also get an epilogue where we save Satomi (remember her?) and some minor plot points that link this chapter's plot to the next one, tempting players to get the upcoming new cartridge. And after this, our very last gaming screen: a rating. Turns out that fooling around giving wrong answers only contributes to a less than stellar final score and nothing else in the game, which is honestly a shame, considering that it could have been potentially used instead to present different scenes, ways of investigating, and even possible bad endings. One could argue that this particular choice was made due to capacity limitations for data, but in that case why leave us the illusion that our choices matter? The character swap count is also shown on the score screen: I'm not sure if this counts towards a negative score or not, but I do hope developers didn't mean to penalize players for wanting to explore the game with different point of views (which, honestly, is what a good detective would do instead!).

In Short What's positive about Meitantei Conan? It's a little jewel in term of graphical and audio quality, and an impressive technical experiment that brings a complicated genre such as the murder mystery on a simple console such as the Game Boy, with a positive result. Easy to maneuver, it offers an intriguing story that can be enjoyed just fine either as alone or as a chapter from a saga, since the main plot links every single cartridge together. And it's also so bloody! Once you see this you'll definitely want to see fanmade Phoenix Wright cases on Game Boy. Let's start some projects!

And, what's negative about it? Well, it could have definitely been much more interactive. Except for the main examination part, the player mostly gets to follow the case through cutscenes, and the fact that they can't control any character during the final showdown is definitely disappointing. The multiple choices and logic thinking recap are useless to the story when they could instead add a lot of depth and replayability, so it does feel like developers missed a big chance. Also the fact that we only play through one investigation makes the game feel very short... I would have at least preferred to have two "episodes" per cartridge, but I imagine this was due to capacity limitations.

And that's the game! Very interesting and inspiring, but unfortunately not perfect. Nonetheless, an interesting piece for every kind of collection!

9 Fun Things to Do Near Sacramento, CA: Best Places to Visit Nearby!

The area all around Sacramento attracts throngs of people from all over the country as it has a certain open and nature derived energy that many find absolutely refreshing.

No matter what type of group you plan on traveling with river fox train, you’re sure to find fun things to do near Sacramento, CA for everyone to not only enjoy, but explore and even learn from.

1. Sacramento Children’s Museum In a great way, this museum highlights what makes kids so imaginative as it sets up exhibits that encourage creativity and learning.

Why We Recommend Going Here Kids can choose from a variety of different areas and really dive into the themes that most appeal to them, be it art, science, nature or just plain old fun. it has plenty of things to do and see near Sacramento for little ones on a long California day!

2. Red Door Escape Room

Because there is such popularity with mystery and detective style shows, it is no wonder that escape rooms are one of the attractions near Sacramento, California that captivates such a wide assortment of people.

Why We Recommend Going Here There are a number of different types of challenges that you and your group can choose from. Some are based on movies, while others are more about just escaping. It’s a wonderful way to stimulate your problem solving skills and to learn to work as a team.

3. Black Chasm Cavern National Natural Landmark

Exploring the earth’s geology is a very special experience that fills one with wonder and an appreciation for the story that has led to the home that we cherish in the present day.

Why We Recommend Going Here It consists of 3 separate f¡platforms that are joined by flights of stairs. Perhaps the best way to experience it is on a tour led by a Cavern Naturalist who can illuminate the ins and outs of the environment that surrounds you. Lose yourself in the many features of Black Chasm and the long established science of speleology.

4. LangeTwins Family Winery And Vineyard

If you have loved the taste of wine but have yet to visit the place where it is grown and prepared, then this may be just the opportunity for you! Also, it is one of the finest romantic places to visit. In the area.

Why We Recommend Going Here This is a wonderful opportunity to only try different types of wine, but also to learn about what makes them special and different things like what types of cheese pairings work best.

It’s an endearing experience as the entire place is family run and you feel this warmth as you tour around and explore the process behind a delicious glass of wine!

5. Gibson Ranch Regional Park

Nature lovers of all shapes and sizes are sure to love reconnecting with this pristine slice of natural countryside. This is one of the  places to see near Sacramento where families return year after year to bask under the California sun over a weekend.

Why We Recommend Going Here This is one of the places near Sacramento that you should really plan carefully to make sure that you have plenty of time for meeting farm animals, going horseback riding, following nature trails and even enjoying a concert or two!

6. Old Sugar Mill

This is a great opportunity to go back in time and immerse yourself in the historical background  of old Clarksburg.

Why We Recommend Going Here Sugar Mill dates back almost a century and is a shining example of California wine culture as it consists of s community of 15 wineries. Learn about the rich agricultural heritage that still thrives today and whose products are wonderful for enjoying local cuisine and exploring your interest in the story behind the different wine categories.

7. Mother Lode River Center

Northern and central California has many great whitewater rafting sites, and this is one of the more family-friendly ones.

Why We Recommend Going Here Visitors are free to choose from three forks of the American River that vary from mild to truly wild. So depending on your ability and/or inclination, you can enjoy a beautiful day on the river in a number of ways.

There are various other outdoors activities such as climbing trees, zip-lining and hiking.

8. Effie Yeaw Nature Center 

Outdoor enthusiasts of all ages can explore Californian nature at its best through this hidden gem that lies in Ancil Hoffman Park and features different experiences.

Why We Recommend Going Here A great place to start is by paying a visit to the natural history museum and beholding live animal displays before. Tots can participate in hands-on and cheap activities while parents admire photographs and works of art that reflect the surrounding natural richness. They can also try their skills at an adjoining golf course.

9. Clubhouse Bar & Grill

This is one of the cool places to go to catch your breath and let off some steam while enjoying drinks at a full bar.

Why We Recommend Going Here Sporting events pack this place as well as live musical performances and other events like comedy shows. You can play darts and beer pong and choose from an extensive menu full of quality items, many of which you’ve surely haven’t tasted before.

i’ll walk through hell with you

chapter 3: even if we’re breaking down

Amy searches for - and gets - some answers, but decision-making turns out to be a bumpier ride than expected.

read on ao3

read earlier chapters

february

The first days are always worst.

The first days after the start of another period, another negative test, the first days of knowing that no, it didn't work this time either, are always darkest. There's no trace of the enthusiasm she feels every time there's a positive result on her ovulation tests, no hint of the careful confidence each time her period is a day or two late. Instead, Amy feels both like she's constantly on the verge of tears and like she'll never experience an emotion again. Excruciating pain, then complete numbness. Everything, then nothing. 

 Each month, she wishes for her life to pause for a moment, letting her hide underneath the warm comforter for days without talking to anyone. Each month, it continues without lenience. 

She still has to wake up in the mornings, get herself ready, make sure everyone wears clothes and eats breakfast and gets to wherever they’re supposed to be. She has to get through her workday, filled with assignments and must-dos and complaints and petty arguments, and when she’s finally done, there’s a daycare pick-up and food shopping and a full evening remaining. 

Her life won’t give her a break, won’t give her a chance to retreat into a corner and scream her lungs out in frustration over why her body's not cooperating, why she's not getting pregnant when it happened near effortlessly the last time. She finds herself getting jealous of her two-year-old, who currently handles most of her frustrations by laying down on the floor and screaming until she's red in the face. Compared to the torture of maintaining the illusion that everything's fine and she's not falling into pieces, Amy feels like a couple conspicuous, falsetto anger screams of her own would be quite the relief. 

Adulthood is truly overrated at times.

 She keeps going despite her bitterness and anxiety, because if she stops, everything will fall apart, and if everything falls apart, she has to put it back together. She lets her life continue despite the heaviness in her heart, because it has to, so she forces a smile and curses the fact that for some reason, everyone around her seems to be pregnant or have a newborn.

She doesn't know if it's solely because she’s paying more attention, but she swears they're everywhere. A beat cop in her squad, a witness she helps interview, a stranger next in line to her at Starbucks and a teacher at Leah's daycare, the latter prompting the toddler to ask her first curious questions about where babies come from - specifically, how one got inside her teacher. Amy makes an honest, well-intentioned attempt to give a simplified explanation of two people who love each other very much, but it turns out Leah's major concern is whether or not Miss Edwards ate the baby living inside her tummy and whether or not that means someone could eat her, too.

(“Jake, please stop telling your daughter about how you’ve been friends with a cannibal.”)

(“It's not my fault she picks up on everything!”)

 It feels like a taunt, like the world is laughing at her while she tries to keep it together. She can’t even get a break when she stops by Target on the way to pick up Leah from daycare. She's only picking up socks, some emergency groceries, and cold medicine, but of course, she all but walks right into a display of Valentine’s Day-themed babywear and has to stop herself from standing there and staring at the tiny, heart-patterned, onesies and pacifiers. 

Amy has to remind herself they have boxes of Leah's old baby clothes left in the attic, so she shouldn't have been going too crazy with buying new baby clothes even if she had been pregnant. Even so, she cannot shake the stinging reminder that if there had been a baby on the way, she would have been perfectly able to buy the impossibly soft pajamas with multicolored hearts and a matching hat, and the thought wouldn't have felt deeply, intensely wrong. 

She puts the item back, fast as if it had burnt her.

 There’s traffic on the way to the daycare, enough to make her about ten minutes late and double her stress levels. Her two-year-old might not know the clock, but she’s become easily worried as of late, and the catastrophe part of Amy's brain pictures a devastated child crying about whether her parents are ever coming to get her. She rushes into the building all out of breath from stress and anxiety, only to find out Leah is happily playing with building blocks and shows zero interest in saying goodbye to her friends to go home. Amy decides to spare herself an argument today and lets her daughter play for ten minutes extra while she sits down on the floor to catch her breath. 

 Although Leah’s only a toddler yet, Amy keeps being surprised by the tremendous pride she feels watching this child learn about and slowly take on the world. She watches her communicate with the other kids around her even on limited vocabulary, watches her construct simple towers and laugh when she pushes them over and the blocks scatter, sees her wave goodbye to her friend when another parent comes to pick up one of the kids she was playing with. 

Of all her achievements in life, Amy can’t quite grasp the fact that she - admittedly with some help - created this person who’s becoming more and more her own individual by the day. It’s all moving so fast, each day bringing new surprises and challenges, and it’s all making her increasingly certain their lives would be even more of a wonderful whirlwind with the addition of another child. 

 She’s thought about the possibility of not having one, too. During her most exhausting days, when the scheduling and stressing and ovulation testing feels like a third full-time job on top of the two she already has, she’s toyed with the thought of ignoring it, but she always ends up returning to her original wish. There’s certain guilt to it, a nagging thought in the back of her head wondering if she’s ungrateful. She already has the best kid in the world, and maybe she’s egoistic to want another. She’s struggling even to explain it to herself, how it has nothing to do with ungratefulness for the child she has and everything to do with how she always pictured herself having at least two kids, how it feels like another baby would make their already perfect family that much more perfect. If they’re awesome like this, a fourth member would make them sensational, and if one kid is magical, Amy imagines two would be out of this world.

She just wishes the second one could hurry up already. Beginning to exist, for example, would be a great start.

 She’s vaguely aware of what’s happening in the room, too tired and stressed and in her head to notice much, but she snaps back to reality once Leah stands up and walks over to her, wrapping her arms around Amy’s chest. 

“Sad,” she says, and Amy’s confused because the toddler seemed perfectly fine a minute ago, but then she clarifies. “Mama’s sad.”

Oh.

“Yeah,” she admits, stroking Leah’s hair and hugging her back, feeling her earlier so high heartbeat return to a normal pace once her two-year-old’s in her arms. “I’m a little sad today. That’s okay. Everyone’s sad sometimes.”

“Wait.” Leah squirms out of Amy’s grip, disappearing to the chest of drawers in the corner of the room and finding the one with her picture on it. She pulls out the stuffed animal in the shape of a lion they keep at the daycare for nap-time and comfort, runs over to Amy again, and places the toy in her lap. “Better now.”

Amy wants to cry again, but this time, it’s tears of love, and pride, and gratefulness for this shockingly emotionally intelligent child who she can’t help but wrap in another hug, holding her tightly and kissing her cheeks until she starts giggling. 

“I’m much better now,” she agrees, and Leah shines up. 

“I’m nice!” She points to herself, looking mighty proud, and Amy laughs at the beautiful confidence.

“You are so nice, baby. Do you think we can go home now? I know your dad promised he’d make spaghetti tonight. Can you say spaghetti?”

“Spaghetti!” Leah exclaims, and then she’s out in the hallway and already busy trying to put her shoes on the wrong feet by the time Amy’s stood up.

 Each month her life keeps refusing to pause. No matter how tiring and exhausting it gets at times, she suspects it might be for the best. 

 -  

  For all the things not working out for them within the whole having-a-baby project, the process of finding time to try and make said baby on the right days every month works smoother than Amy expected it to. Sure, it's not the most romantic feeling to have a sense of obligation hovering over them for the specific days, and it brings an odd pressure to it she's not sure she enjoys, but it works. They make time, somehow, and they get all the way until month five of trying before they have to take to desperate measures.

“To be clear,” Amy mutters before Jake's even closed the supply closet door behind him. “I really don’t like that we're doing this here.”

“Yeah, you repeated that about twenty or so times when I suggested it.” He smirks, locking the door carefully. “It's okay. Also, the cameras don't reach into that corner.”

“Still. The whole thing. I was voted -”

“Most appropriate, I know.” The cheeky smile he gives her makes her feel a bit less awful about their decision. “God, I can't believe you agreed to this.”

“You should make sure I don't change my mind, then.”

“Oh, I will.”

He sounds confident, and it makes her snort with laughter because doing this at the precinct feels absurd and wildly inappropriate, but in a way, there's something about them sneaking around - the time-efficacy and detailed planning of it - making her find it kind of hot, too. Hotter than she'd be willing to admit. This baby-planning thing must truly be making her crazy, Amy thinks, but there’s no time to lose and this is not the time for analyzing. 

 She closes the distance between them, cupping his face with her hands as she would for any gentle kiss, only this time, she puts enough force in her movement to press him up against the wall as their lips, then tongues, meet.

It’s clear from the way he gasps, and from the way his hands wave before finding their place on her upper back, that he wasn’t expecting her to take charge like this. It spurs her on, because a flustered Jake is high up on the list of her favorite Jakes, and god, does she love seeing and feeling him react to her in that way. It’s an unambiguous and cherished reminder of how even after eight years, she’s able to surprise him as much as he can surprise her, and if anything, she’s learned exactly how it’s done. 

They're both panting when she lets go, getting worked up in the competitive heat. Amy uses the quick break to get to work on his top plaid buttons and Jake's not slow to follow with her uniform, but she's not letting him take the lead in this game yet. The unbuttoned plaid allows her to pull the collar of his grey t-shirt aside. At first, the kisses she presses to the top of his collarbone and the crook of his neck are light and teasing, but then they turn into sharper biting and he straight-up moans.

If she couldn't feel his enthusiasm before, she definitely can now. It doesn't leave her unaffected; she subtly presses herself even closer to him, and while she's sucking hard enough on his shoulder to leave a mark, his hands are roaming along her back, under her shirt, playing with her belt for a second before she moves his hand away.

“Don't be impatient,” she warns with another sly bite to his neck. “If we're going to do this here, I'm in charge.”

“You're really out to kill me, huh?”

“Yeah, but you love me.” Amy punctuates the sentence with a kiss, feeling him smile against her lips.

“I do,” he breathes as her hands wander down, taking time to trace patterns with her nails along his lower back. “I really, really do.”

 “I stand by this being a stupid idea,” she mumbles when they’re catching their breath, trying to return to their previous states of dress with the help of a phone flashlight in the half-darkness, because of course the lighting in this place is busted. Amy considers it a miracle she could keep herself from having a panic attack thanks to claustrophobia, but she supposes determination and enough distraction are powerful tools.

Jake snickers, fumbling with the buttons of his plaid while she holds the phone’s flashlight for him. “You’re acting like you didn’t enjoy it.”

“I did,” she says, rolling her eyes at him. “Doesn’t make it any less inappropriate.”

“It was fun, though.”

“It was.” She kisses the tip of his nose, adjusting his collar to hide the beginning of a red and purple shadow at the nape of his neck. “I suppose even desperate measures can be fun sometimes.”

“Even desperate measures can be fun sometimes, title of your sextape.”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

 ~

 march

 “So what’s the verdict for this month?” Jake joins her in the bathroom as she puts the test down to develop. He’s holding two cups of tea and gives her one of them before sitting down next to her, leaning against the bathtub. “Did our crazy workplace rule-breaking pay off?”

“Three minutes, grasshopper.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grins. “But what do you think? Any hunches? Gut feelings? Visions in a dream?”

Amy snorts, taking a sip of the green chai tea. “Certainly no dream visions. I don't know. Maybe, but I don't want to get my hopes up too much. What's your guess?”

“I'm feeling good about this one,” Jake declares, nodding towards the white and blue plastic stick placed on the floor tiles a foot in front of them. “Let's hope I'm right.”

“Yeah. Let's hope.”

 She leans her head on his shoulder as they wait, and his right arm wraps around her back, stroking her hair while they stare at the tiny display window. There's always a curious atmosphere to these moments, before there's been any disappointment and there's still hope of a positive result, and she revels in knowing that until the timer goes off, there's a chance. Until the test has finished developing, there's a possibility of their fourth family member existing inside her - the size of a poppy seed, but existing. 

Perhaps month five of trying could be their month. If not, Amy thinks she might just go crazy. 

 The timer rings, pulling her out of her hopeful dreaming, and she turns it off with a quick tap before reaching for the test.

She was prepared for it. Yet, it feels like a betrayal to see the single line appearing without a trace of another.

“Nope,” she sighs. “Nothing this month either.”

“It's just an early test,” Jake suggests, a trace of hopefulness remaining in his eyes. “You said they're not always accurate that early, and you’ve not gotten your period yet, which means there's hope, right?”

Amy shakes her head. “These tests have been accurate all the other months. This body,” she points to herself, “isn’t pregnant, and apparently, it doesn’t want to be.”

“Come on, Ames. Five months isn't that long.”

“It isn’t?”

“... No? We’ll try again. It’s not a big deal, babe. It's nothing.”

 It’s the same phrase again; the one she’s heard a million times at this point - from Jake, herself, Julian, a friendly stranger on a web forum during a particularly anxious night a few weeks ago. If she hears it another time in the same lighthearted, happy-go-lucky tone the pessimist part of her brain makes Jake’s voice sound like, she’s going to be seriously tempted to punch that person. 

She doesn’t, this time, but she does question it. 

 “When does it become something?”

Jake furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

"Because everyone always says the same thing. One month is nothing. Three months is nothing.”  Amy twirls the negative test between her fingers. “Four months was nothing, either. So when does it become something?"

“I don't think I get it -”

“When,” she inhales, “does it go from nothing to something? Where do you draw the line?” 

“Oh.” He grimaces, taking the test from her and inspecting it for a second before placing it on top of the trashcan. “I actually don't know, babe.”

“I think I'm going to try scheduling a thorough checkup,” she says, deciding it as she speaks it out loud. “Just so we can exclude anything being seriously wrong.”

“Sure, okay.” Jake nods, pressing a kiss to her forehead and holding her impossibly closer. She doesn't protest, because her dismay and dejection are never quite as severe in the safety of his embrace, and although she feels like a failure who keeps being betrayed by her own body, as long as he’s holding her, it’s easier to breathe. “If you think it's going to make you feel better.”

“Yeah,” she whispers, and at that moment, she can't imagine any knowledge being worse than the no man’s land of confusion and desperation she’s begun to feel stuck in. “I think it's going to make me feel better.”

 There’s no reason for them to stay there, cross-legged on the bathroom floor with Jake holding her close and stroking her back without speaking, but neither makes any attempts to move. Moving means having to move on, and though Amy knows they have to and they will, it seems impossible to do so straight away. If Jake is aching to do so, she’s not sure, but at least he doesn’t rush her - he sits there and lets her process until she forces herself to draw back and take a deep breath before standing up.

“It’s going to be okay,” he reminds her when she finally does, and she manages a weak smile upon noting the devotion and steadfastness in his gaze as he says it.

She places her hand over his heart, as has become their little well-ingrained habit and silent love language over the years, and he holds it, rubbing his thumb over hers. “I know.”

At least the two of them are staying intact, she thinks, and allows herself a moment’s gratefulness. 

  - 

  Amy's lived through her fair share of situations where she's been thankful for the fact that her job forces her to practice authoritativeness on a daily basis. She never imagined the process of trying to get an appointment with a fertility doctor to be one of them, but it very much is. 

It takes nine different calls, one forgetful medical secretary, ten requests for her to hold for a quick moment that in two cases ends up being several minutes, two times taking calls inside the evidence locker to avoid being spotted, and one incident of screaming into a pillow in frustration, but eventually, she scribbles down an appointment set for next week at a nearby fertility clinic in her calendar and does a short victory dance out of pure relief. Then Leah spots her doing so and starts laughing, and what was supposed to be a brief victory gesture quickly becomes a smaller dance party and makes an already good afternoon even better. 

Amy goes to bed with a new sense of hope that night. She’s going to go to the appointment, get some shot or supplement to solve whatever little dysfunction is happening with her body, and everything’s going to be fine. For once, she’s certain about it.

 She’s certain about it all the way up until she steps foot inside the actual clinic. 

As positive a picture as she painted this place in her head while doing research, being there is stranger than she’d expected, making her feel oddly misplaced and uncomfortable. Maybe it’s the fact that Jake’s not with her, that their packed schedules forced them to choose between both going to the same appointment and being able to get a time somewhere in the nearest month, that’s making her feel off. He’s sent her a cheerful Good Luck-text with double exclamation points and a trio of heart emojis, and she musters a smile as she replies to it and he sends a bitmoji back, but he’s not there and it’s making her feel a lot more vulnerable than she would in his presence. 

I wish you were here, she writes, and it’s a mere second before he’s written back, me too.

 The waiting room walls are decorated with at least twenty framed photographs of newborn babies. Like a wall of fame, Amy thinks, snapping a picture to send to Jake, but a wall of babies. She wonders if they’re supposed to serve as encouragement, some kind of goal picture, and wonders how smart of a design choice such is for a clinic that could be meeting infertile couples daily. Then she scratches the thought, because it shouldn't matter to her - she's not one of them.

She's going to be fine. It's nothing but a safety check.

She still wishes Jake could have been there.

 “You’ve been pregnant before, correct?” The fertility doctor Amy’s meeting manages to make her feel more at ease. The woman - Dr. Thompson, she introduces herself - can't be many years older than Amy, has light hair and a comforting aura about her smile, and from the furious pace with which she's scribbling on her notepad while asking questions, Amy assumes she's thorough. A good sign, she figures.

“Yeah, I have a two-year-old.”

“How long did it take for you to conceive the first time?”

“A month? Really fast.”

Dr. Thompson taps her pen against the notepad. “So this is the first time you're having trouble with it.”

“Yes.” Amy nods, pressing her nails into her wrist one by one to keep focus. “It seems weird to me, because my mother had eight kids and was 42 when she had her last, so I figured…”

“Genetics isn’t always a guarantee.” The doctor offers Amy an excusing smile. She supposes it should be a calming act, but it has the opposing effect. “And how long have you been trying now?”

“Five-six months.”

“Tracking your ovulation?”

“Yes.” Obsessively, Amy wants to add. 

Dr. Thompson nods, making another note on her pad. “We do recommend couples over 35 to come in if nothing's happening after six months of actively trying, so it's good you're here. I'll ask you a few additional questions, and then we can start with the physical exam. Does that seem okay?”

“Sure,” Amy hears herself lie.

 It doesn't feel okay, not in any way whatsoever. She shouldn’t be sitting here, answering weirder questions about her medical and reproductive history than ever before in her life. She shouldn’t be alone, because Jake should be there to help, answering questions for her when her voice fails and making her feel at ease by holding her hand. There shouldn't be a sense of dread lingering with her, refusing to let go. 

She’s not supposed to be here. 

This should just work. 

 There's a physical exam, which is uncomfortable, and bloodwork, which is fine. There’s a quick ultrasound, and she tries to shake the thought of how the last time she had one, she saw her then-unborn daughter wiggle around on the screen. There are information-heavy brochures on everything from a list of procedures to financing and insurance coverage, a quick run-through of the tests Jake needs to have at his appointment the next day, and then, it’s finally over and Amy leaves feeling yet more confused than before.

 It can take some time for the bloodwork results to come in, she’s informed. At first, she tries to avoid thinking about it, utilizing every accessible distraction to stay sane. She starts preparing an extra slideshow about community engagement for the precinct, takes Leah to a bonus Mommy-and-Me art class which ends in a lot of laughter and a long bath for both of them, and starts binging a new TV show together with Jake in the evenings. She even tries experimenting in the kitchen to make time pass, but after accidentally setting off the fire alarm at 7 a.m. on a Saturday and waking up all her family plus two bitter next-door neighbors, she gives up. 

  - 

  Three days pass. A voice in the back of her head begins to whisper that if everything looked good, surely they should have gotten back to you by now, and she lays awake staring at the ceiling for most of the night.

Five days pass. She googles the costs of fertility treatments on her phone during her lunch break, doing the math first in her head and then with a calculator on a pastel pink post-it note. Jake asks her what she’s writing when he stops by her desk in the afternoon, and she quickly stows away the note in a drawer and tells him it’s nothing. 

Eight days pass. They clean out Leah’s dresser from clothes she’s growing out of, and Amy places at least fifteen items she’s previously wanted to use for another child in the donation pile before Jake stops her. 

Ten days pass. At this point, Amy’s certain something is wrong with her, anxious to get the bad news over with. She checks her phone a million times and hovers with her thumb over the clinic’s number for the entire day, but there’s nothing.

On day eleven, she gets a call. 

 She's in the car, having parked in the precinct’s garage with five minutes to spare when the melodic signal sounds from her pocket and every muscle in her body tenses, every other thought dissipating in an instant when she brings the phone to her ear.

“Amy Santiago.”

“Amy, hi. I hope I’m not interrupting anything - do you have time to talk?” Dr. Thompson sounds upbeat and chattery on the phone, and Amy finds it provoking. She's already prepared for the worst, and cheeriness has no meaning when all she wants to do is to rip off the band-aid. 

“It's fine,” she says, glancing at the panel board’s digital clock. “Thanks. Did the results come back?”

“Yes, yes,” Dr. Thompson rambles, and Amy's stomach twists. “I have your blood work results. Everything else looked good, but your AMH level is a bit lower than I’d like to see it in your age group.”

“My AMH level.” She knows she’s stumbled across the word while googling, but the definition slips her mind.

“It’s a hormone that gives a reflection of your ovarian reserve, so roughly how many eggs you have left,” Dr. Thompson explains, talking slower. “The results look like yours is diminished.”

 There’s the familiar, panicked feeling she’s felt so many times in her life - like someone is tying a rope around her lungs and pulling it. Amy has to keep forcing air in and out of her mouth, telling herself she can’t panic, not yet.

“How low are they?” She asks, and Dr. Thompson tells her two decimal numbers before explaining further. 

“It’s not catastrophic, by any means. You could still get pregnant. You should be aware, though, that a lower ovarian reserve is usually connected to fewer high-quality eggs, so it might be difficult for you on your own.”

The corners of her field of vision are getting blurry, and she closes her eyes to try and focus. Her voice sounds enfeebled in comparison to the doctor’s clear articulation, but she has more questions. 

“Is it anything I’ve done? Is there anything I can do?”

“I would believe it’s random. Your ovarian reserve does get lower with age, but for some, it happens a bit earlier than it should. As for what you can do…” There’s a sigh on the other end of the phone, and Dr. Thompson’s tone changes to a graver one that sends a chill down Amy’s spine. “Time is of the essence here. Unfortunately, once this decline sets in, it’ll continue. If you want to get pregnant, I would recommend you start treatment immediately to have the best chances.”

“Do you mean IVF?”

“I believe it could be your best option, yes. Is it something you’ve had time to discuss with your husband?”

“Uhm - no.” She twists the silver wedding band on her left fourth finger, one way and then the other. “ Could we - could you give us some time to decide?”

“Of course.” The cheerful tone returns. “Actually, I would like to see you again in two days to go over this more closely in person and do another ultrasound. Perhaps you could let me know then what you’ve decided and we could discuss how to move forward?”

“Yeah, sure.” 

“Perfect, then. Take care,” Dr. Thompson chirps, and Amy knows she should return the polite wish, but it’s all she can do to press the red circle and put her phone in her lap before the panic attack hits her full force. 

 She ends up working from home that day. 

Working is a half-truth at best; she does the bare minimum, then spends the rest of the day laying on the bed with the lights turned off and googling feverishly, trying to find out all the information until the medical terms and her anxiety medication makes her dizzy. Jake texts her once an hour to ask if she's okay, if she's sure he shouldn't leave and go take care of her if she's feeling sick, but she waves him off decisively, telling him she's just tired.

Tonight, she'll have to face reality and tell him, but for a few hours, she can lay unmoving in the darkness of their bedroom and pretend none of this is happening. 

She doesn't want it to be. She wants her body to do its thing, get pregnant quickly and naturally and bless her with another beautiful child like it's done masterfully once before. She doesn't want it to be shutting down, doesn't want needles, medications or expensive treatments in order to have a baby. She doesn't want this.

Still, the more she researches, the more it stands clear it's her best option. 

She gets her notebook to go over the costs and insurance options another time. 

 - 

 Jake must truly have been worried about her, because he offers to both cook dinner and clean up the kitchen by himself. Amy puts Leah to bed, feeling less heartbroken when the toddler chuckles heartily at the nighttime stories they’re reading and falls asleep clutching the beloved stuffed lion. She stays for a few minutes after Leah drifts off, sitting on the carpet wondering if anything on Earth looks more peaceful than a sleeping child, and leaves first when she feels tears threatening to form at the thought of whether she’ll ever get to hold her own sleeping newborn again. 

She has to talk to Jake.

 She finds him standing at the kitchen sink, cursing violently over how impossible it is to remove burnt rice from a pot. She kisses his cheek and tells him to let it soak in soapy water for a while, and he grumbles something about wanting everything done so they can focus on relaxing for the rest of the night, getting a chance to watch Jeopardy! and snuggle without anything to stress them out. She has to close her eyes and clench her fists before saying the words she’s been avoiding the entire day - the words to make it all real. 

“I got a call back from the fertility doctor today.”

“Uh-huh.” His tone is unsuspecting, but he raises his eyebrows when he sees her tight-lipped expression. “What did they say?”

“I think we need to talk.”

“Oh.”

 She sits down as she goes through what was said in the call, staring at the dark wood of their dining table when she can’t make herself look right at him. She goes through each point, patiently replying when he asks for clarification and telling him about the research she’s done, what conclusions she’s drawn about their best options. He nods slowly as she speaks, and though Amy considers herself a master at interpreting Jake Peralta’s facial expressions after nearly eight years in a relationship with him, he’s unreadable to her at this moment. 

 “So…” She’s braiding her fingers again, trying to keep her hands occupied with something other than picking at the skin of her fingers until they bleed. It’s already happened once today. “Long story short, they want to know if we’re doing IVF or not. And they want to know in two days.”

“Okay.” Jake sighs. “Well… we’re not, are we?”

She looks up at him. “What do you mean? Of course we are.”

He blinks. “We are?”

“Yeah?” She scrunches her forehead, and he gives her a look she recognizes from hundreds of interrogations when a witness has said something unexpected and he’s calculating whether or not he thinks they’re telling the truth. “We have to do IVF. It’s my best chance to pregnant. Our best chance to have a baby.”

“Do we have to, really? They said you could get pregnant naturally. You mentioned those supplements?”

“IVF is likelier by far. It’s the best option.”

 He opens his mouth as if he’s on his way to say something, then closes it, turning around and starting to scrub at the rice-stained pot again. 

“Look, I don’t love it either.” Her voice is sterner now. “I’m not exactly hyped about shooting hormones into my stomach with needles, but it’s our best shot. What’s the issue?”

“The needles you mentioned? The money we don’t have unlimited resources of? The time we have even less of?”

“We’d solve those things! I’m a lieutenant, insurance could pay for a couple of cycles - I already looked everything up. ”

“Of course you did,” he says, but it’s not with his usual fondness - he’s shorter, almost colder when he speaks. “Fine. But it might not even work, you know?”

“It’s at least more likely to!” She notices herself raising her voice, and tries to adjust it, thinking of their daughter sleeping a closed door away. Leah can’t wake up to this - Amy might never forgive herself if it happened, and she knows for certain Jake wouldn’t. 

“More likely isn’t a guarantee.”

“What’s the point you’re trying to make here, Peralta?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, letting go of the dish-brush and pot and giving her a tired look. “IVF is such a process. It’s a huge deal.”

“So exactly like having a kid, then.”

“It’s more than that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

 Jake puts his elbows on the counter, running his hands through his hair with a sigh. 

“Just… if we’re going to go through a whole medical process to put another human on this world when we’ve already done it once, I feel like you have to be so confident you want to? You can’t have a single doubt. I watched Charles and Genevieve try to do it before they adopted Nikolaj, you remember?” She nods. “It always seemed so freaking tough to me. Like, if you’re going to do that, you have to be willing to give it your everything.”

“And you’re not?”

“I… I don’t know, Ames. I’m sorry.”

 He’s throwing unexpected, verbal bricks at her. She’s never known how to react when his opinions oppose what she believed they would be, she gets defensive by instinct, and he won’t ever let her forget the time she turned to an honest modified Lincoln-Douglas debate. They both know they can’t do that now - with time and experience, casual and loving conversations have grown a much-preferred method for dealing with opposing opinions - although Amy can’t deny her current temptation to rig up two debate stands in their living room. 

It feels like an ironic repeat of the fight they had back then, yet it’s new. It’s common and uncommon ground all at once, history and present day. 

She’s started picking at the skin of her right thumb again, scraping at it with her index finger. Jake’s watching her with worried eyes, but he doesn’t stop her.

 “Are you saying you don’t want to have a second child?” It’s a poisonous question, she knows, but asks it anyway.

“I don’t mean it like that,” he mumbles, and his feigned nonchalance provokes her. 

“Then what the fuck,” she says, putting emphasis on the expletive, “do you mean?”

“I mean that if you came with a positive pregnancy test right here, tonight, then I’d be one hundred percent in. I’d be ready. I’d be over the freaking moon, and so excited to love another baby the way I already know I can love one.”

“So what you’re saying is if I could simply get pregnant, you’d be up for it,” she sneers, scorching frustration flooding her as she interprets his poorly articulated sentiment. “Cool. Well, newsflash, it’s what I wish, too! But clearly, I can’t.”

“That’s not what I’m saying -” Jake groans. His cheeks are flushed scarlet as he fights to find his words, but she can’t bring herself to feel an ounce of sympathy for him. “I just don’t know how to feel about us having to pay a bunch of money, do an advanced medical treatment and be stressed out thanks to it, if there’s still a risk it won’t work. It feels wrong to me, Ames. I would love another baby so much, but I don’t know how to justify prioritizing it over Leah, or us, or focusing on the family we already are.”

There’s a rational part of her head somewhere telling her to calm down, not to put words in his mouth like a self-fulfilling prophecy, but that rational part is getting increasingly quiet for each sentence they exchange. She finds herself glaring at him instead, the man she loves most who can’t seem to understand her sometimes, can’t seem to understand how much this is breaking her or how she can’t give up this dream without ensuring they’ve tried it all. 

Something breaks when he mentions Leah. The implication, the mere suggestion this would be more important than the child she’d go through hell and back to keep safe and happy, is like a seething spear piercing through her, ripping a tear in a shield she thought was impenetrable. It sets off something instinctive, more than defensive, something that’s been part of her since the first time she felt her daughter move inside her.

 “Are you trying to say I love my daughter less because I want another baby?” She spits out the words.

“No! Oh my god, no, I swear I’m not.” Jake looks shaken, blinking a few times like he’s not sure what’s happening. “All I want is for you to be okay, and this is clearly stressing you out like crazy, I don’t want it to get worse.”

“Yeah, I wonder why that is. It’s not like my reproductive system is trying to shut down several years in advance, or something. Who’d ever be stressed about that?”

“Ames.”

“I don’t want to hear it. I really, really, don’t want to hear it.”

 She knows it’s a bad idea. The right choice would probably be to stay right here and have a calm and collected conversation to work out their respective issues with the decision they’re facing, but instead, the instinct that she needs to get away overpowers her rational thinking. She stands up without pushing in the chair, quickly grabbing her phone and keys, and before Jake has time to ask what she’s doing, she declares it. 

“I’m leaving.”

“What?”

“I need to be alone for a moment. Don’t follow me. Please.”

“Wait, what the hell?” He scrunches his forehead.  “Obviously I can’t. Will you be back?”

She sighs. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Amy… don’t do anything stupid!”

 It may be an insignificant detail in the sea of irrational actions she’s taking, but at least, Amy feels a sense of pride that she doesn’t slam the door on her way out.

 -

 Even in their Brooklyn neighborhood, she expected fewer people to be out at this time - it’s late, or so she thinks. A quick glance at her wristwatch tells her it’s not even nine p.m. yet. It felt like she spent years inside their apartment, dealing and worrying and last but not least fighting with the one person she most hates fighting with, but for the outside world, it's a normal Wednesday evening. She's jealous of them.

 She walks slowly - too slowly to be in Brooklyn - and stops when she reaches the small park near their house. There are no kids left here at this time, only a group of teenagers hanging out over on the swings and smoking. Amy sits down on a bench a safe distance away from them, thinking that right now, it's a shame she stopped smoking. She could have needed a cigarette, but even the nicotine patches are but a memory after she quit cold turkey during her first pregnancy.

She puts her head in her hands instead, inhaling and exhaling in and out in an imagined square until her breathing stabilizes.

 She shouldn't have left, she knows. It's an unfair and immature decision beneath her usual professional ways, cold-hearted and mean towards Jake and even towards Leah, but she couldn't imagine staying and pretending what he was saying didn't affect her. Somewhere deep inside, she understands his skepticism, but she's not sure he understands her desperation or the helpless feeling of knowing her body is working against her. That helplessness overpowers all her hesitation. She's never been one to give up on dreams easily, and definitely not before giving her everything and exhausting every last option. Jake knows that about her. He should understand.

 She picks up her phone, surprised when the only text she sees is a single I'm sorry. She ignores it, going into her contacts instead and calling another one of her most used numbers.

 Rosa picks up on the second signal. 

“Amy?”

“Hey, Rosa.” She tries to keep a normal tone, but her voice ends up wavering anyway. 

“What’s happening?”

“Can I come over? Watch a Nancy Meyers-movie and drink tequila?” It’s their years-old routine, established during the god-awful six months they both had their partners in witness protection and each other as trusted confidantes. It’s been a long time since they last arranged one, but if she’s ever needed one since, it’s tonight.

There’s the sound of someone moving at the other end of the phone, a mumbled apology before the background noise disappears. “Why?”

“Jake and I had a fight,” she mumbles, wondering why things feel so much more real once you say them out loud.

“Okay.”

“I left.”

“Uh-huh. Wait,” Rosa stops her, suddenly halting. “You left? Like, straight-up walked out? What the hell? Did he do something?”

“No, no - oh my god, Rosa, it’s Jake.”

“Then why’d you leave?” 

“We disagreed on a thing.” Rosa hums, urging her to continue. “I don’t think he sees my perspective. Or understands it.”

“Santiago,” Rosa sighs, and Amy can tell there’s serious advice coming.  “Look, I’m not going to tell you how to solve your fights, but - this is you and Jake. Sure, you don't always agree on everything, but that man loves you so much it’s nauseating, okay?”

“I guess. I mean, I know.” 

“Like, you two have a freaking toddler, which should be the death of all romance, and somehow you’re still sickening.” Rosa says the last words with a bit of a groan. “If I were you, I’d go home and try to explain my point. Calmly.”

Amy snorts. “Since when have you encouraged people to solve a fight calmly? I thought insults or threats were your style.”

“I said if I were you, not me. Amy, just hear him out. Have a proper conversation with him, and explain your side of… whatever you guys are fighting about. If you’re still mad after, you can come over.” 

“Okay,” she whispers, secretly relieved someone else made the decision for her. “Thanks, Rosa.”

 “Anytime,” her friend replies, and then grunts. “No, nevermind, not anytime. I’m not your relationship coach. But sure, you’re welcome, I guess.” She makes another noise of discomfort. “Text me an update.”

“I will. Thank you.”

 Rosa hangs up on her, and Amy balances her phone in her hand. There are no more texts. Jake’s giving her time, she guesses, letting her cool off like he’s learned to do the few times in their relationship when squabbles and bickering have turned to actual disputes. 

She’s barely been outside for twenty minutes, but the bad conscience is kicking in hard, especially after Rosa’s advice. She needs to explain her side in a calm and collected manner, and they need to decide how to move forward, together. As much as she wants to take full control of the situation and put her body through whatever it takes, as desperate as she is to know they're doing something, it's a decision she can't make alone - because she isn’t alone.

She may be frustrated and disappointed and a little bit scared, but she's not alone.

She texts him she’ll be back in 10 before she starts walking. When he doesn't reply, she walks faster. 

  -

  The first thing she notes upon returning is the episode of Doctor McStuffins playing on their television. She could recognize those melodies and the exaggerated upbeat enthusiasm of all characters’ voices anywhere, and for a fleeting moment, she wonders why Jake would be watching the hysterical children's show on his own before she realises he's half-laying on the couch with a seemingly asleep Leah in his arms. Their daughter is wrapped in her duvet like a burrito, her face slightly red like she’s been crying, and Amy’s bad conscience gets impossibly worse.

“You came back,” Jake notes, and she can read the relief on his face. 

“Yeah. I texted you.”

“My phone is in the kitchen,” he explains, pointing to Leah. “This one woke up five minutes after you left. Screaming and crying like crazy and could barely talk. Nightmare, I think? Anyway, it was heartbreaking.”

“Oh, baby.” Amy sits down next to them, stroking Leah's back through the duvet. “I'm sorry I wasn't there.”

“It’s fine, she didn't notice.”

“I meant I'm sorry I left.”

He looks away. “It's okay.”

“It isn’t,” she assures him, and he gives her a small shrug. “I should have stayed and explained it better.”

“Well, yeah.” He looks back at her with a careful smile. “But I’m sorry, too. I know it’s not the same for me.”

“It’s not your body it’s happening to.”

“No. No, it’s not.”

 Leah whimpers in her sleep, and Amy scoots closer on instinct, kissing the top of her daughter’s head. The child makes a new, softer, noise at that, leaning towards her.

“Do you want to hold her?” Jake whispers, and she nods. “I haven’t moved my legs in forever - thanks.”

Their daughter blinks a few times as he lifts her to Amy’s lap instead, opening her eyes for a second, but then she closes them again and rests her head on Amy’s chest. 

Amy finds herself guilty of doing the same thing she used to find other parents weird for raving about, burying her nose in Leah’s newly washed hair and sniffing the top of her head, but it stands true - nothing smells better than your own baby, not even when they’re old enough to be walking and talking. These kinds of snuggles aren’t a daily occurrence anymore, and she fears the day they’ll be non-existent. She knows how precious the time with a newborn is, and although she’s itching with excitement for every experience to come, she can’t make herself accept the thought of those days being gone forever. Not yet.

 Jake’s hand is playing with Leah’s hair, twirling the subtle curls around his fingers and softly massaging her neck. They’re both so focused on their daughter, Amy’s taken aback when he asks her a question.

“Are you totally, totally sure you want to do IVF?”

“Yeah,” she admits, not a moment’s hesitation. “I know it’s tough, but… I want this so bad. I need to feel like I have some form of control over the situation - I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t try everything.”

Jake nods slowly, moving one hand to intertwine with hers, and she thinks she can feel the tension between them fade with his touch. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. If you’re willing to go through that, if you think it’s worth it for you, we’ll do it.”

 Part of the weight is lifted off of her shoulders like a block of granite, but a few doubts linger.

“I thought you weren’t sure if you wanted another kid,” she remarks, thinking of his comments of I don’t know how to justify prioritizing that, but he shakes his head.

“I’d have all the kids if they’re yours.” He presses a kiss to the nape of Leah’s neck. “It’s not about that. I would love another kid so, so much.”

“So what is it about?”

Jake grimaces. “I’m scared of the process, Ames. I heard way too much about it when Charles and Genevieve were trying, and it took up their whole life and relationship for so long. I love our life as it is. I’m… scared it’d break us, I guess.”

“I know. But I think if I always wanted another kid, if I knew we could have done more and we didn’t try - that would break us, too. It would break me, at least.”

He nods again, squeezing her hand tight and lifting it, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “We’ll make sure it doesn't happen, then.”

 She smiles wide, and without a word, Jake snuggles into her side when she moves to make space, head resting on her shoulder and legs crossed over hers. The three of them are a warm, intimate family cocoon, and Amy thinks that if there’s anything better than watching Jake trace faint circles with his fingers on Leah's upper back, making the child smile in her sleep, it's that he manages to press soft kisses to her own neck at the same time. She has half a mind to compliment him on the multi-tasking, but she's too relaxed to speak.

 The kisses stop when he asks her another question, and her eyes reluctantly flutter open.

“Are you sure we can afford it, though?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not optimal.” She thinks of her beating heart when she wrote down the numbers, trying to work out how much their insurance could cover.”But we can afford a couple attempts before reevaluating.”

“We’ll get it in the first.”

“Maybe,” she mumbles, hesitant. “You forget this stupid body wants to shut down now. Or, well, its reproductive system.”

He looks up at her with a pained expression, shaking his head. “Please stop talking about it like that.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” he says, and part of her knows he’s right, she shouldn’t be talking about it that way, but another part feels too betrayed by her body to care, so she shrugs. “I’m sorry I made it sound like you would prioritize this over Leah, by the way. Not fair.”

“No, it wasn’t. You know it’s not about that.”

“I do. I’m sorry.” 

Amy nods, squeezing his hand. She can feel her eyelids getting heavier, the day’s exhaustion returning at full force, and she lets out a wide yawn. It's been a long day, to say the least, and all she wants is to close her eyes and go to sleep in this safe haven with her daughter snuggling on her chest and her husband resting his head on her shoulder. The two of them together are a million times better than any heated or weighted blanket, and having them both there is making her anxiety finally, finally ease up for a while.

 “I’m coming with you to the next appointment, so you know. And all the other ones.” Jake’s voice is a warm whisper close to her ear when he speaks again, and she hums her understanding.

“You don't have to come to everything.”

“I'll be trying to,” he assures her. “I’m sorry for being so questioning about it. I just hate seeing you suffer, and this whole thing has already been getting you so down. I guess I'm scared IVF would make that worse if it didn't work out.”

“It might,” she admits. “But I don’t want to keep going like this, either. It’s too frustrating. I need to feel like I’m actively doing something, especially now.”

“I know. Like I said, I’m sorry I was so skeptical.”

“I’m sorry I walked out.”

“I love you.”

She cranes her head to kiss his forehead. “I love you, too.”

Leah whimpers again and stirs in Amy’s arms, regaining her parents’ full attention only to return to her previous relaxed state a short moment later.

“Should we keep her in our bed tonight? In case she has another nightmare.” Amy’s suggestion is mostly out of concern for her daughter, but a little bit out of her own unwillingness for the treasured cuddles to come to an end.

“One condition,” Jake grins. “When we have another baby, we’re getting a huge bed.”

For the first time that day, she laughs. “Deal.”

 ~

Pinterest Perfect

Summary: An overheard conversation leads Prisha to wonder what she'd want her own wedding to look like someday.

Read on AO3: 

Sophie and Marlon were eating lunch together in the break room when Prisha came in, planning to grab her coat before heading out for the day. As she passed by the table, she overheard some of the conversation they were having.

“Absolutely no meatballs at our wedding,” Marlon declared, taking another bite of his meatloaf.

“Really? I would have had you pegged as a meatball sub sorta dude,” Sophie replied, chewing on a carrot stick.

“Had a bad experience as a kid. Scarred me for life,” Marlon shivered before returning to his food.

“Well, we both know my number one rule…”

“No clowns,” the couple said in unison, fist bumping with a smile.

Prisha watched the conversation with amusement. She’d heard of this game the two of them liked to play: listing things they should and should not have at their wedding. It was some sort of ongoing joke between the couple, to continue casually planning their wedding even as they weren’t engaged or anywhere near that sort of thing. “Tell me, Sophie,” Prisha began, putting on her coat. “Do you think it ever could have been a real possibility that Marlon would arrange for clowns to come to your wedding?”

“Can never be too careful,” Sophie waggled the end of her carrot stick before popping it into her mouth. “Clowns show up when you least expect them. They’re sneaky that way,”

Prisha chuckled at her friend’s logic. “Well, you two have a good lunch. I’ll see you tomorrow,”

“Bye, Prisha!” the couple called in unison before returning to their mock wedding plans.

Prisha smiled to herself as she headed out to her car. Planning out their wedding so causally with no actual arrangements in place. Those two really make quite the pair.

---

Once she was home, Prisha found herself lost as to what she would do with the rest of her day. It had been an unexpected half-day at work, the builders coming in early to begin work on improvements to the bar. Perhaps she would finally get around to clearing out her inbox. Sitting on her couch, Prisha opened her laptop and began the monotonous but rewarding process. A few minutes into the process, she accidentally clicked a Pinterest notification that popped up rather than the email she’d intended and was whisked off in a separate tab for the website. Prisha glanced with mild interest at her feed. She hadn’t used Pinterest in a while, mostly referencing it for inspiration when decorating her apartment as well as providing the occasional healthy recipe.

It was so easy to get sucked in again with all the aesthetic, perfectly framed images. One in particular caught Prisha’s eye: a girl in a white sundress standing in a field of sunflowers. The girl’s short blonde hair reminded her of Violet’s. As Prisha gazed at the picture, a thought wandered into her mind. That sort of looks like a wedding dress. As soon as the thought coalesced, Prisha felt her cheeks heating up in embarrassment. Immediately she closed her computer, standing up to get the tea she’d been considering. Beginning the electric kettle, she tried to think of other things to distract herself, but her thoughts simply kept returning to Sophie and Marlon and that lighthearted wedding conversation they’d been planning. They made the whole discussion look so easy, so natural.

Prisha poured the hot water over her packet of Earl Grey, warily eyeing her laptop as it lay upon the couch. There’s nothing wrong with daydreaming, is there? Hesitantly, Prisha returned to her computer, opening it back up. The screen immediately displayed Pinterest again. As she clicked on the search bar, a menu of suggested searches popped down with several categories. Desserts, sunsets, DIY furniture… weddings. This site is reading my mind. Prisha gulped heavily before clicking on the Weddings option. What sort of rabbit hole had she let herself wander into?

There were endless ideas for weddings on Pinterest: color schemes, flower arrangements, wedding gowns, cakes, there seemed to be an infinitesimal number of things to take into consideration when planning a wedding. Scrolling through the feed, Prisha found her eyes drawn to the wedding dresses first. There were so many options, so many different styles. Long, short, fitted, flowy, the fashion choices seemed infinite. Prisha gazed at a fitted mermaid, lace dress for several seconds, entranced by it. Could I pull something like that off? The woman in the photo appeared to have a similar body type. What would Violet think?

Violet always seemed to like whatever Prisha was wearing. There hadn’t been a single time where she’d said anything against a single one of Prisha’s outfits. Truth be told, she probably didn’t think about fashion very much, but her eyes did light up a certain way when she noticed Prisha was wearing one of her favorites: the cranberry red cocktail dress, that one pair of jeans that always did wonders for Prisha’s butt, her warm grey cardigan that was extra snuggly on cold nights. Whatever Prisha chose, she wanted it to make Violet’s eyes sparkle in that way.

I don’t know why I’m talking as though this is an inevitability, Prisha scolded herself. Marriage wasn’t even something that either of them had put on the table. But rather than continuing to scold herself on the likelihood of this even happening, Prisha found her mind back on the wedding dress train. Would they both wear dresses? She’d never seen Violet in a suit before. The girl didn’t own anything fancier than a jean jacket. Prisha found herself liking the idea of them both wearing dresses more and more though. Perhaps in different styles so they’d both stand out. Violet could wear something comfortable, maybe one of those cute shorter dresses with the pockets. They didn’t have to both be in white either. Prisha wondered how a cream dress would look against her own skin. There was a particularly lovely gray dress that she quite fancied too…

Amongst all the wedding dresses there were a myriad of other wedding ideas too. Prisha found the outdoor weddings to be the loveliest. It would be beautiful to be married under the trees with the natural light breaking through the branches and scattering upon us. Then at night we could dance under the stars. There were several photos of trees covered in twinkle and curtain lights. Such a simple touch truly brought magic with it. After coming across a particularly lovely photo of just such an arrangement, Prisha finally bit the bullet and made a secret board for herself so she could keep track of her favorite photos. Scrolling back up a ways, she collected several other pins that had caught her eye before returning to the point where she had been.

There were so many elaborate weddings, ones that looked as though they would be massively expensive. I believe we’d both want to keep things simple, Prisha thought to herself. A small ceremony with only our closest friends. Things like the cake and the bouquet could be kept simple as well. A white cake, classic, with some flowers curling round its tiers. Violets would be too on the nose and probably just irk Violet. Prisha didn’t see any cakes with them, but she wondered to herself if it would be possible to decorate a cake with morning glories. After all, Violet was her Morning Glory, it would be lovely to have that special name be celebrated at their wedding.

I’m smiling like a fool, aren’t I? Prisha thought, feeling the expression tug at the corner of her lips. No matter. It wasn’t as though there were anybody about to see her giddiness. Should we both have bouquets or just one of us? Would we walk up the aisle together? One at a time? Prisha supposed with all these things it would come down to what worked best for them. She’d never really considered being walked down the aisle, but Prisha supposed that if her father weren’t there to walk her down the aisle as would likely be the case, she’d rather do it on her own or not at all. Violet on the other hand… Would Louis walk her down the aisle? Prisha chuckled aloud at the thought. She knew Louis would be absolutely ecstatic about that idea. He’d probably fight off anyone else who tried to take the role, though Prisha didn’t think Mitch or Marlon would put up much of a fight.

Ringbearers, flower girls… Willy could be the ring bearer. Prisha was quite fond of the boy. Then again Violet was very much attached to Tenn. Why not both? Then A.J. as the flower boy. Probably not, Prisha thought with a smile imagining the chaos that would ensue with those three together. But it’s certainly an entertaining thought. Bridesmaids and brides.. men? Why not both? That seems to be the theme of this whole ceremony, Prisha thought wryly. Clementine and Louis were most likely to take the positions of honor among the wedding party, making the toasts and planning the bachelorette parties.

Ruby and Omar would likely take on the catering for the wedding while Renata handled the cake. Prisha was sure come hell or high water, Ruby would get involved in other aspects of the wedding as well: dress shopping, flower arrangements, wedding decorations. Considering how excited Ruby got during themed nights at Ericson’s Diner, that excitement was sure to rise tenfold for a wedding. Thinking of their friends and coworkers getting involved in wedding prep filled Prisha with a warm, fuzzy feeling. Prisha could just imagine all of them coming together and helping make this dream a reality. Perhaps I should look at rings next.

The sound of the front door unlocking had Prisha jumping off the couch in fright. Violet stood in the doorway, a to-go bag in one hand and the key to Prisha’s apartment in the other. She looked apologetically at her girlfriend. “Shit, did I scare you? Louis asked to switch shifts with me so I got off early. Picked up some food on the way here. Figured we could make a night of it, have an early dinner, but if you’re busy-”

“Not at all,” Prisha declared, closing the tab and slamming her laptop shut. She threw it off to the side where it landed upon a beige pouf she kept off in the corner. “What sort of food did you bring?”

“Thai. Figured we’d switch things up,” Violet closed the door behind her and walked over into the kitchen, beginning to take out the various boxes of food she’d carried within the bag. Prisha came over to help her. Violet glanced up and a shy smile crossed her face before she looked away.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” Violet paused. “You’re wearing the earrings I got you,”

Prisha’s hand came up instinctively, brushing against one of the earrings. It had been a six-month anniversary present: a gold pair of earrings, a moon and a star. Prisha knew they were far nicer than anything Violet owned herself. “I love them. They match with everything too,”

Violet nodded. “I thought they would,” She glanced over at the television. “So… Cutthroat Kitchen tonight?”

“Sounds perfect,” They’d soon found the show to be the perfect combination of strategy and chaos to keep both of them entertained. After grabbing their food, both girls settled down on the couch, ready for a night of relaxation. Raising her legs up, Violet put them across Prisha’s lap without another thought. Prisha smiled. Violet had been so nervous about physical touch when they first started dating. It was nice to see how far they’d come together.

Running her hand absentmindedly along her girlfriend’s leg, Prisha glanced over at her abandoned laptop. The board she’d made for herself seemed like a faraway dream now. But being here with Violet, Prisha knew it wasn’t simply a fantasy for her. It was something she wanted, not quite yet, but someday. And every day with Violet made that someday feel closer and closer. With that thought in mind, Prisha grabbed the remote and turned on the TV.

In The Cards

It all started with James Bond, the arbiter of worldliness and all things cool when I was just a kid stuck in suburbia. The movies were frequently shown on TV and I made it a point to watch them all over and over again. One of my early favorites was Live and Let Die: the theme song kicked ass, it was Roger Moore's first film so he would never look more handsome, and the movie was full of straight-up magic. The bad guys have a fortune teller on their side, and she can seemingly see everything James Bond will do, even from a great distance. The key to her abilities, aside from her being a virgin (which Bond *ahem* takes care of) was her use of tarot cards. Drawing randomly from this special deck of cards, she could literally see the past, the present, and the future.

I had never heard of tarot cards before but I knew I wanted them. I could not have been older than 12.

When I got my hands on a deck, likely from a book store at the mall, there was an instant level of disappointment. The tarot cards in the Live and Let Die had a very specific look to them, and I had presumed that was just how all tarot cards would look. The deck which I bought (received? I don't remember if my parents were in on this) looked different. All the cards were there, but the art I had expected was not. The biggest difference that stood out to me was the "Death" card: in Live and Let Die that card has a super badass drawing of Death-incarnate wearing a suit of armor while riding a Pale Horse as all manner of human beings knelt or simply fell before him. In my deck, Death looked like a cartoon skeleton without clothes or a horse as he literally reaped the grass with a scythe. I am not here to judge aesthetics, but if you see something in a movie and you end up buying something else, especially as a kid, that's not going to sit right.

(I have tried to use modern search engine tools to discover what kind of deck I had: it was easy to figure out that Live and Let Die used a kind of Rider-Waite-Smith deck, but I think I might have ended up with a variant on a Marseilles deck - exactly which variant, I could not say)

Artistically it was a let down but the appeal of the tarot cards only increased as I learned more about them. First, I discovered that the deck was huge with 78 different cards: the big-picture cards that were featured in the film with names like "The Lovers" and "The Fool" were part of the Major Arcana, but there was also a full set of Minor Arcana which resembled playing cards: four suits, lots of numbers, and several face cards. Secondly, every card had two different "readings," depending on which direction the card faced when drawn.

78 cards, all with two different meanings, meant memorization. As a kid, I was all about memorization. In elementary school my friend Sasha and I tried to memorize the Periodic Table and I think we made it to the lanthanides. When I discovered the joy of watching professional sports, I made a point of memorizing all the teams - by division - in all four major sports leagues. Then I started memorizing the championship winners (and the runners-up) of each major sports league for the last ten years...then the last 20. These tarot cards were going to be my new thing, I could feel it.

I started carrying the cards with me wherever I went. As a kid in school this was easy since I always had a backpack on so the size of the cards meant nothing. Sasha and I (we had watched Live and Let Die together, so this became a team obsession) each had our own deck and we both would take turns drawing cards and looking them up in the little booklet that came in the box. I can remember taking them with us on a school trip to Boston and when we weren't in awe of the historical sights (do I need to tell you we were both nerds?) we kept up our tarot studies while walking around town. On one occasion, just as we drew a card and the booklet said it meant "danger," a car honked its horn at us. We were walking in the middle of the street! Clearly, the magic was real.

The tiny booklet also included a recommended layout when "reading" the cards. The lady in the movie just turned them over one at a time and everything made sense to her, but instead these instructions had us laying out ten different cards in a pattern where each card has a different relationship to the reader. Today I can tell you this pattern is called a "celtic cross" and it is only one of many, many shapes and patterns that can be used, but preteen me did not have that information. I had clear directions: to read the cards I had to flip over ten of them and explain them all.

Before I knew it, before either of us were really ready to be doing anything like this, I remember both of us became tarot card readers at our synagogue for a Purim festival. At the time I didn't think anything was weird, but in hindsight I am impressed that no one raised an objection to kids bringing such a thing into the synagogue so we could be fortune tellers. I should say that we were members of a Reform Temple and I cannot recall ever hearing words like "blasphemy" or "occult" used by our rabbi or anyone else in authority; it stood in contrast to all those self-described Christians I would see on TV who were mad about evolution being taught in schools, talking animals existing as characters in children's books, or anything else we might read in a Chick Tract (which come to think of it, we also discovered around this time while riding Metro-North trains into New York City).

My tarot reading habit did not last; Sasha and I had a falling out of sorts and other things just became more important than these strange cards. My deck sat on a shelf in my room for years until I moved out of my childhood home. I cannot say for certain but it more than likely did not leave with me. But my curiosity surrounding the tarot would linger in my mind and resurface soon enough just as my next big obsession would come along and reveal itself to be tarot-adjacent: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure.

When I discovered JoJo via a fan-subtitled bootleg VHS in the late 1990s, I had no idea the six episodes of anime I just saw covered only one small part of an ongoing (to this day!) manga. The story, as presented on the tape, started in the middle of the action. A lot of it did not make sense, but I latched onto one element right away: every character had superpowers which were embodied - literally - in a spiritual version of themselves on screen and all these alter-egos had tarot-related names: Star Platinum. Hierophant Green. THE WORLD. There wasn't much connection between the card names and the powers they possessed, but it was the coolest thing I had ever seen. If I had still owned a deck I might have started imagining other powers for the other cards not shown on screen (not knowing that they were all represented in some fashion in the original manga).

Leap forward another - gosh, twenty years? - and my tarot fascination never really went away. When I see a Kickstarter or an Etsy page for a new take on tarot cards, I often take a peek at what ideas are on display. A lot of them are just...porn-y. Some are cute. But I'm old(er) now, I don't have the raw enthusiasm I did when I was in 7th grade and the prospect of magic playing cards just made perfect sense. I see daily horoscopes on Japanese TV which I recognize aren't "real," how could I scoff at one kind of fortune telling and then pick up a deck of tarot cards?

Except...who cares if it's "real." What does it matter if these cards are, ultimately, a random assortment of quality art? It's been three entire decades since I first saw them and I'm still deeply intrigued. Part of being old(er) is coming to terms with your own tastes and biases; I no longer need to apologize or feel shame for liking old pop songs or macho action movies and if I've always had a feeling that tarot cards are cool, that feeling is correct.

There's also the feeling that I know so little about tarot cards that I cannot possibly pass judgement on people who use them. I recently started testing a Body Positivity mobile app that uses tarot cards as a means to spark self-reflection and, well, body positivity. The tarot cards in the app are not "real," they're not even physical. They're just drawings on a screen. But the drawings are nice, and if flipping a virtual card over can have a real impact on my own mind, who's to say what flipping real cards over could do?

Even though I felt a need to write all this down, I'm not actually seeking permission here. I already made up my mind and bought a brand-new deck of tarot cards. It's here, next to me. I’ve opened them. I try to draw a few cards whenever I have a chance, but I don't know where this reignited interest will take me. Will I start memorizing them all, again? Will I have another car-honking-its-horn-at-me moment? Maybe I'll just enjoy them aesthetically (they are very nice-looking if I may say so). I don't know what will come next any more than these cards do, but I know I like having them here and I want to know more. At the very least, tarot cards have already taught me an important lesson: I know better than to try and read them while walking in the middle of the road.

---- I shared this story with my Patreon supporters before posting it publicly. Want to help me write more things? Join today: patreon.com/feitclub Ko-fi works too: ko-fi.com/feitclub

The Best (and Worst) Films of 2019

In many ways, 2019 served as a crucible, and no more so, at least cinematically, than with the venerable superhero flick. After a deluge of big studio films on the subject of capes and spandex (the MCU includes 22 films since the 2008 release of Iron Man; the nascent DCU, running it fits and starts has seven), we saw the explosive close-out of the previous “phases” with Marvel’s Avengers: Endgame; as well as the rise of pseudo art-house comic book film, Joker, in the same bloody year.

The talk on Film Twitter  —  the living definition of ‘tempest in a teacup’ —  was all about those films, and Martin Scorsese’s now legendary take down of the genre by referring to the super hero films, collectively, as  “theme parks.” But in truth, there were many, many other films that came out during the year, some of them utterly brilliant, some of them ridiculously awful. Here are my picks for both, with some of what I wrote about them at the time in my review.

10. Avengers: Endgame

“There are so many small but noteworthy details -- opening the film with Traffic's "Dear Mr. Fantasy"; the name drops, and special shout-outs to comics' fans; the small character beats that allow each protagonist more than just a quip or two; the closing credits, which give singular notice to the stars who have been there from the beginning, and wisely do not use the signature Marvel trick of teasing out the next film, which gives the series, at last, a sense of real closure, if only temporary -- the film feels as if it has been created and calibrated with the utmost care. For a film destined to break the bank no matter how shoddy they might have made it, Marvel has poured enough genuine soul into it to earn its inevitable bounty.”

Full Review

9. Her Smell

“In some ways, the film takes on a sort of Raging Bull aspect, Martin Scorsese's classic film about a boxer's rise and fall, only to turn the ending on its head. In Scorsese's picture, we see Jake LaMotta, now fat and retired, attempt to break into showbiz as a comedian, the scenes draped in cutting sardonicism. Perry gives Becky a much less punishingly ironic turn, but instead a hero's journey, venturing away from the abyss into something a good deal less grandiose and realized.”

Full Review

8. The Last Black Man in San Francisco

“It's also a film about the versions of the stories whose ideas lend depth and valor to our otherwise nondescript lives, the things we hope make us the heroes of our own narratives. In this way, Jimmie's story is conflated with that of the city itself, and the palpable sense of loss he feels about his family's house is mirrored in the city's own loss of identity.”

Full Review

7. Under the Silver Lake

“Mitchell fairly stuffs the film with portents, symbols, and runes, some real, some imagined. Squirrels mysteriously fall dead at Sam's feet, a parrot in his courtyard keeps calling out something he can't decipher, a dog killer stalks the neighborhood, and graffiti strewn about the area calls out to him. Films are always encoded with symbolic meaning, utilizing visual language to instill emotion and establish significance for the audience (think of Spielberg's girl with the red coat in Schindler's List, or James Dean's red windbreaker in Rebel Without a Cause), Mitchell's film gives us so many options, almost everything can be read symbolically, which perfectly captures the paranoia his character feels, and the pointlessness of trying to make sense of it at all.”

Full Review

6. Marriage Story

“Noah Baumbach’s latest film, about the dissolution of married couple – played extraordinarily well by Adam Driver and Scarlett Johansson – will no doubt get comparisons made to Bergman’s brilliant Scenes From a Marriage. But whereas that 1972 film concerned the relationship itself, its highs and lows and metamorphoses, Baumbach’s film is much more about the logistics, legal and otherwise, of ending a very much shared life together.”

Capsule Review

5. Midsommar

“Viewing Aster's films is a bit like walking into an art installation -- quite literally, as he populates his frame with stunning compositions and art-focused mise en scene, as with the beautifully designed wooden structures of the compound, or the exquisite murals and art displayed on the building's walls (a huge shout-out to his production designer, Henrik Svensson, and the art directing crew) -- but, as with Hereditary, behind all the sumptuous, hand-crafted beauty, there is a cruel, brutal core of humanity's continued savagery. If art represents the best sort of impulses of humankind, in Aster's hands, it becomes yet another facade, hiding -- or in this case, exemplifying -- our instinct for vicious barbarity.”

Full Review

4. Parasite

“By the end, as it swerves inexorably into blood-soaked violence, the film reveals to be a bit of a con itself, drawing us in with its enticing humor, then opening up into a much darker vision, before ending on an emotional note of surprising vulnerability. Through it all, Bong shows a mastery of odd tones, from the opening comedic salvo, to the final emotional beats.”

Capsule Review

3. Uncut Gems

“It’s one of those pressure-cooker films, where the steam builds more and more intense as Howard gets in and out of trouble through his ability to constantly shift the playing board. There’s a scene about midway through, with various aggrieved characters coalescing at once in his office, as he’s trying to have a speaker phone conversation with his doctor, that’s so stressful, you will want to avert your eyes and remind yourself of the exit signs.”

Capsule Review

2. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

“It's also an unexpected joy to watch the nonchalant swagger of Pitt match up with DiCaprio's more high-strung ministrations. Two of the biggest film stars alive playing mostly washed up TV actors may stack the irony, but both of them settle in so well into their characters, you can't help but admire the result. Rick is a dude whose ego has gone from tumescent to shriveled -- he parks his car miserably in front of one of his own old movie posters -- but beneath all his hubris and despair, he actually has a lot of talent. As always, it's pure joy to watch Pitt smoke up a screen, a middle-aged Redford speaking every line with a sinfully breezy smile, whose confidence extends around him like the golden hue of his deep suntan.”

Full Review

1. Knives Out

“More than the plot itself, an ingenious and kinetic thing that's as satisfying as a hot bowl of soup on a raw and windy day, there's the sense of joyous chaos from the cast. Those scenes where the family is all together, in the drawing room and continually at each other's throats are so delicious, they should come with a napkin. The interplay between vets like Shannon, Johnson, Curtis and Collette is filled with fractious energy, the characters revisiting age-old disagreements ("Your kid's a brat!" -- "Your kid is a Nazi!") with sadistic glee. Even when they band together, in moments, against what they believe to be a common enemy, it's clear the harmony between them is more Iggy and the Stooges than Beach Boys. In short, Johnson has devised a perfect ensemble of dreadful characters and set them all against one another in a narrative fishbowl filled with lye.”

Full Review

Other Worthy Mentions:

Amazing Grace, American Factory, Apollo 11, Bacurau, Birds of Passage, Charlie Says, Cold Case Hammarskjöld, Dark Suns, Dark Waters, Ford v Ferrari, Greener Grass, In Fabric, John Wick 3, Jojo Rabbit, Luce, Midnight Traveler, Ms. Purple, Pain and Glory, Rewind, Something Else, Terminator: Dark Fate, The Farewell, The Hole in the Ground, The Irishman, The Lighthouse, The Nightingale, The Report, The Souvenir, The Vast of Night, This is Not Berlin, Us, Varda by Agnes, Vitalina Varella

Best Upcoming Releases of 2019

The Personal History of David Copperfield

The Burnt Orange Heresy

Bad Education

First Cow

The Worst Films of 2019

5. Greta

“In short, Jordan turns Greta into a Michael Myers-esque boogeyman, everywhere and no place at once, almost a phantom, but for her high heels and French condemnation. In this way, the filmmaker loses his grip on his material.”

Full Review

4. Ma

“Apart from a truly absurd script, director Tate Taylor's film performs ungainly political gyrations -- asking us to root against a survivor of sexual abuse and humiliation for trying to gain (albeit misplaced) revenge on her attacker. Sort of a rape-revenge thriller set upside down, such that nothing makes any ethical (or emotional) sense. It quickly becomes an awkward mishmash of impulses, wanting to provide cheap scares while fostering a deeply schizoid sense of sympathy, while managing to fail mightily at both.”

Full Review

3. The Dead Don’t Die

“Jarmusch's proclivities have always leaned toward such lightly affecting material -- as if the act of actually generating emotion is somehow vulgar and unseemly -- which has also endeared him to his faction of fans. For everyone else, though, it doesn't leave much to look at. Filmed without fanfare (albeit with a few more special effects than usual, and a kind of cool splattering of sand-like mist when the zombies are beheaded), and with the intensity knobs all turned down to their lowest setting, he continues his sous vide-style of filmmaking. Whether you like the dish he's serving, or want to throw your hands in the air and go somewhere else for dinner is all in your temperament. Whatever you choose, you can be certain the same menu will be available the next time you venture back.”

Full Review

2. Dark Phoenix

“The clearest loss, however, is with the story itself -- its legacy struck deep in Marvel lore -- once again being studio nitpicked, and focus-grouped to within an inch of its life. If Endgame audaciously proved a superhero movie could rise toward an emotionally satisfying arc, this failed attempt proves the opposite is also true: Chronic incoherence, even if spread out among a multitude of titles over 20 years, just feels like a soulless money grab. Adding to the sense of this film's slapdashery, the trailer features lines and moments unused in the actual cut, which is never a good sign.”

Full Review

1. Lucy in the Sky

“The film is meandering and pretty much pointless, a major flaw that Hawley himself indicated in his introduction (“we work as hard on the bad ones as we do the good ones,” he told the audience in an example of supreme foreshadowing. Portman does her best, but the film sputters pretty hard, and is never able to justify itself.”

Capsule Review

Other Dishonorable Entries:

The Aftermath, The Curse of La Llorona, Gemini Man, Glass, Hellboy, Joker

Inexplicably Overrated: Joker, The Dead Don’t Die

Biggest Welcome Surprise(s): Ford v Ferrari, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

Most Bitter Disappointment(s): The Lodge, Wounds

Film That Critics Got Wrong: Waves

Best Film I Saw Last Year, Period: Scenes From a Marriage

Animate Times Interview with Jin

An interview about Jin’s third album after five and a half years – in this album, there is nothing but “people cannot live alone” as the theme.

The third album of the artist Jin-san, “Mekakucity Reload”, hit the shelves on November 7th 2018. The latest album was announced about five years and six months after the release of the second album, “Mekakucity Records”, so it gathered a great amount of expectations and attention from the fans.

We have carried out an interview with Jin-san! We asked him about the feelings he has put into each composition, about what to pay mind to when listening to the songs, and about episodes that ensued during the recordings. This has turned into a interview in which Jin-san’s peculiar sense and thoughts, as well as his strong emotions towards his fans, can be felt.

Translations Index >>

Approaching Jin-san’s void of five and a half years.

――A period of five years and six months passed between the release of the second album “Mekakucity Records” and third album “Mekakucity Reload”.

Jin-san (henceforth “Jin”): To begin with, Kagerou Project were songs that I made for people fretting over friendships. When delivering my works to these people, I had this feeling that I didn’t want to create compositions while I was at a loss, you see. I didn’t want to lie to the fans.

――What exactly does your “not wanting to lie” mean?

Jin: For example, I don’t want to make songs that go, “It’s fun to be alive!” when I’m actually thinking that I don’t want to do anything. I believe talking and laughing with people in the times when I don’t feel like saying anything or seeing anyone is the same as lying.

From that point onward, I thought of displaying the righteousness that I have in mind and did my best to try writing the novels. Lately, I’m also in this flow of meeting people that I want to make music with, getting enthusiasm from them and tackling my song compositions.

――Meaning that, rather than obsessing over a new shape, you wanted to do what you hadn’t been able to?

Jin: That’s right. The models I used to make in elementary school look completely different from the ones I make now, but it’s almost like there was no change at all to what I’m doing. In the past, I got dismissed when I talked about what I wanted to do, like, “But this is that kind of thing”, and the frustration from it might have been what created this album.

What I thought while making this album was, “Serves you right; I could do it after all!” (laughs). I’m confident that I became capable of creating works that are even more powered-up than the previous ones.

――Jin-san, what was the biggest reason for your motivation to rise?

Jin: It’s gotta be my encounters with people. Meeting people that had me going, “What would happen if I made something together with them?” was a big deal.

――I think that “relationships between one person and another” is included in Kagerou Project’s themes, but this album was something born from these relationships, wasn’t it?

Jin: There’s relationships between people in it too, but this album has nothing other than “people can’t live alone” as theme. Its appearance is complex, but I think it’s essentially a simple theme. I believed that, if I were honest with myself, I’d be able to make something positive. I think it’s a good theme, if I do say so myself (laughs).

The feelings comprised in the word “reload”.

――Please tell us the concept of this album.

Jin: There’s a composition called “Shissou Word” that I uploaded prior to the sale of the album, and within the song, I sing that “it’s strange how normal things are so difficult”.

Things that I feel to be extremely hard are like breathing to certain people, and they will ask me, “Why can’t you do normal things?”. Understanding the difference in values from being asked something like this was an experience that came across as very difficult.

I also uploaded a song called “Additional Memory” too, and it sings, “I didn’t want to become friends (with you)”. When the protagonist of it must part ways with a certain person, she resents it, like, “I should have done that one thing; why didn’t I say it back then?”

Themes like these are included in all of the songs, and they’re connected to the theme “involvement with people”. There might not have been this kind of concreteness residing in them at first, though.

――Either way, you had the feeling that you wanted to make music lately, right?

Jin: It’s not like I declared, “This time, I want to make an album that will have involvement with people as the theme!” and made it just like that. It feels like, when I actually tried making it, I realized the idenity of something burning within me. When I turn around and look back, I feel that thinking of wanting to make these songs was thanks to my meetings with many people.

――Please tell us the meaning behind the title “Mekakucity Reload”.

Jin: As expected, it would be too shallow a reason if I said that... the word was simply cool (laughs). The word “reload” means “to charge one more time” and “to redo”. There were lots of things left undone in the previous album, so this time, I wanted to make something that definitely wouldn’t leave behind any lingering attachments.

The title “Mekakucity Reload” is close to a revenge of my creative viewpoint. There’s also the fact that I’d wanted to face my highly fervorous pieces once again and make this into a work in which I was fighting my past self.

I want each person to think of what meaning the word “reload” carries from the values, world-building and story of this work.

――Jin-san, to you, this album turned out as a work for kids and teens, didn’t it?

Jin: That’s right. It’s really a work packed with heat, and to me, these compositions make one think that they’re really meaningful, so I’d like people to prepare themselves when listening to them.

He wants to aim for the depiction of “something like the fourth grade of elementary school” instead of second year of middle school.

――What kind of relationship does this album have with “Kagerou Project”?

Jin: I think that the newest philosophies that I didn’t manage to portray in the other stories have been inserted into it in a raw way. My manner of depiction has also changed in comparison to before, so I think the accuracy and strength of my music has stood out as well.

I wonder if I was able to express with great fervor the hidden feelings of each Kagerou Project character through this. In particular, we have the theme of “future” this time as well, and the characters are gradually growing into adults.

――It’s been five and a half years since the last album, after all.

Jin: As a story, it was a tale about children who fought in the summer, but I’m in this trend of starting to contemplate positive themes such as “the future”, and that’s also linked to quitting being a child. As they grow up, it almost feels like they cease to be the main characters of the story.

When I uploaded the songs, I had the impression that they resonated very vividly with the fans. Seeing those reactions, I was relieved that this album turned out as the driving content of Kagerou Project.

――If the characters end up becoming adults, will they lose the “chuunibyou-ish” coolness that they’ve had until now?

Jin: I’m often told that my songs are chuunibyou-like, but I actually want to be told that they’re “like fourth grade of elementary school” (laughs). I don’t want them to be thought of as the second year of middle school, but as something younger.

My use of a chuunibyou-ish portrayal is a metaphor in a way, because when I try to picture the aspects of becoming an adult, it turns out feeling like the second year of middle school no matter what.

The sense of children becoming adults and of youth coming to an end has properly resonated with the fans. I think that the emotional of someone turning into adult gains empathy in deep portions.

――I see. I’m looking forward to how Kagerou Project will develop from now on.

Jin: I think that, as the fans also become adults, their way of reading and interpreting the lyrics gradually changes. Growing into an adult means that there’s a possibility of new people coming along, and from now on, I’m thinking of continuing Kagerou Project as a story of children too.

I believe that, through the appearances of new characters, the viewpoint of Kagerou Project will become one that I hadn’t been able to depict until now.

His song-making does not deliberately tell everything, leaving room for imagination.

――What kind of song is the lead song “Additional Memory”?

Jin: I’d wanted to write about passionate sentiments in a way that would vividly pierce through people. This is also one of the things I hadn’t been able to portray in my past works.

――The production of the piano performance and the sounds strummed by the electric guitar approaching each other in alternation was impresive.

Jin: I myself had the feeling that I managed to apply my ideas to this production smoothly. Comparing to before, rather than saying I earned a new technique, I worried with all my might about how I’d express my sound. I made Additional Memory by prodding into a vivid form of expression nore thoroughly than in the past. Even if I compare it to all my compositions of until now, this was the one that took most time to create.

Also, the one who shows up in this song is the character named Ayano, and I was able to depict in it her inner thoughts, which I hadn’t managed to describe with any of the other Kagerou Project lyrics up to this point.

――What does that mean?

Jin: Until now, if I wanted to talk about ten things, I’d say ten things. But, in this song, in order to convey ten things, I only talked of about six. However, I think that the passionate sentiments comprehended in the song are being transmitted to the fans.

I was thinking that the piercing feelings and regret, as well as the moratorium swirling throughout the environment that surrounds the protagonist, looked intense. I want to expose six things instead of talking about ten, and let people imagine the other four.

――Was it not difficult to make a song without saying everything?

Jin: It’s difficult and takes time, and I also needed a period to cool myself down for it. Amongst the albums, I have the feeling I made a song that thrusts in a great amount of regret and moratoriums. It’s also a song that pictures an aspect of the story that I hadn’t been able to write about until now, so I think it’s easy to sympathize with the emotions in it.

His desire not to betray the fans was what led the album to completion.

――There’s an original manga with a story written by you, Jin-san, in this album’s Limited Edition A, right?

Jin: It’s a story in which the character named Kokonose Haruka goes around asking his companions, “What are friends?”. The mangaka Saiyuki-sensei is in charge of the art, and I consider this person to be one of the important friends that I met in these last five years. Meeting him became one of the triggers for me to think that I wanted to make this album.

That’s why, if you ask me why the special edition comes with a manga, I’d say it’s largely because I’d wanted to create something together with him. I wonder if my and Saiyuki-sensei’s portrayal managed to turn into a work that will shake everyone’s hearts. It’s a must-read content.

――The Limited Edition B has accoustic versions of four songs played and sung by you, but what songs are these?

Jin: They’re Shissou Word, Lost Day Hour, Remind Blue and Wasurete Shimatta Natsu no Owari ni. Of course, there’s the fact that they match my own voice and synergy, but I think these four songs feel good to listen to when I sing to my accompainments.

――How was singing them yourself?

Jin: It was my first time singing to while playing, and even as I myself listened to the finished songs, I couldn’t find the right answer. If you ask me why I sang them then, it’s because I’ve met people whom I believe I can entrust my songs to. I was happy that they would ask me, “Isn’t it fine to deliver it like that?”, so I have the feeling that, as I thought, my connections with people were a big deal in this.

――The second season of the TV anime Mekakucity Actors was announced back in 2016, so how will this album work with it from now on?

Jin: Just like with the music, I have this thinking that I don’t want to do things half-assedly. I also met people that made me think, “I want to do it with this team”, so I hope the fans can wait with high expectations.

Also, from now on, I believe I’ll be able to convey new things to everyone through manga and novels for Kagerou Project. It looks like I’m coming up with stuff leisurely since I took a few years’ time, but I’m surprisingly producing them in a hurry (laughs).

I took this time in order to make it into a good work, and I think I’ll be able to release works in a quicker span next time. I’d be happy if you could look forward to them.

――Meaning that, for the fans, it was worth the wait.

Jin: I think children are fighting right now. In this album is my desire for it to be a trigger so that these kids will carry the feeling of never giving up. I’ll be happy if this work can make the people who listen to it smile.

I took a long while until I was able to release a work that I could proceed with by not lying to myself. I want you to have faith in this album and listen to it.

――Thank you very much.

Homespork Act 2: The Racism of the Conductor’s Baton (Part 2)

FAILURE ARTIST: We don’t get much time to mourn with Dave because the comic flashes to a weird wizard statue. This statue is ZAZZERPAN THE LEARNED. Wizards are another recurring theme in Homestuck. Andrew Hussie once artfully defaced this cheesy book called Wizardology (warning: lots of really offensive humor). Anyway, Rose hates the giant statue and the other wizard paraphernalia her mother collects and believes her mother does this only to spite her. On a platform is a bronzed vacuum (with a place to put alcoholic beverages) that Rose gave her as an ironic present. On the couch there’s a life-sized princess doll that Rose has attached a Cthulhu-type head to. All these things set up Rose’s troubled relationship with her mother. Rose believes her mother is taunting her and Rose taunts her back.

BRIGHT: This scene also establishes that some things (the Cthulhu doll for one) are too big to be captchalogued.

CHEL: Actually, that was noted with the harlequin doll earlier but we forgot to mention that.

FAILURE ARTIST: Rose goes to the kitchen. On the fridge is a crude picture of her late cat Jaspers, who turns out to be more than a family pet. There’s more signs of this cold war between mother and daughter on the fridge.

CHEL: Also, numerous liquor bottles in the kitchen and comically exaggerated displays of wealth, such as a fifteen-thousand-dollar picture frame.

FAILURE ARTIST: After fussing with the fridge, Rose tries to leave the kitchen only to run into her mother. She tries escaping but lands comically in some wizard statuettes.

CHEL: Mom Lalonde is mopping the floor, with no water in the bucket, holding a martini in her other hand. The woman clearly has a problem. Again, this is an issue with the portrayal of the parents; this is pretty funny, but were a real mother behaving this way, it would seriously mess up the kid, and whether we’re supposed to take it as Rule of Funny or not later becomes inconsistent.

BRIGHT: I think a lot of the humour here is supposed to come from the implication that Mom Lalonde actually is a loving if clueless (and drunk) parent, and Rose is reading her badly. On the other hand, something is clearly very wrong, and while Mom Lalonde may indeed be loving the situation is definitely having an impact on Rose.

TIER: Say whatever you want, but when putting on the late game Cerebus Retcon goggles there are probably non-humorous questions to be asked about how screwy Mom Lalonde is as a parental unit if her daughter has ended up interpreting most of her actions as mocking or backhanded towards herself. Like, kids don't just decide that.

ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 3

CHEL: Back to Dave, he’s chatting with GG and they’re being adorable. GG comments about her birthday present to John, the green box we saw in the car earlier, and…

GG: no!!!!!!! GG: he will not open it GG: he will lose it!!! TG: oh TG: uh TG: wow sorry to hear that i guess? GG: no its good actually! GG: because he will find it again later when he really needs it GG: which of course is why i sent it in the first place! TG: see like TG: i never get how you know these things GG: i dont know GG: i just know that i know!

I think here is when we start to get inklings of the kids’ unusual abilities - I mean, unusual in the context of the weird world they live in. A bit more is established about GG’s home life and Dave’s attitudes, too:

GG: i have to feed bec which is always a bit of an undertaking TG: man TG: if i were you i would just take that fucking devilbeast out behind the woodshed and blow its head off GG: heheheh! GG: i dont think i could if i tried!!! TG: yeah TG: say hi to your grand dad for me too ok GG: ._. GG: yes i guess an encounter with him is almost certain GG: it is usually........ GG: intense!!! TG: well yeah isnt it always with family TG: but he sounds like a total badass

“Intense” in a world where attacking your father with a hammer isn’t worthy of comment sounds worrying. We’ll see how that goes.

FAILURE ARTIST: Dave has the tiniest of smiles here and in Hussie’s annotation he says that one pixel created Dave/GG. Whether or not their connection is romantic, Dave obviously feels great affection for her.

CHEL: Interactions between all four of the kids are really sweet, honestly. Dialogue and character interactions are one of the strongest points of the comic overall. Personally I have a soft spot for the OT4.

TIER: In my unprofessional opinion, the beta humans are by far the most functioning and tight knit group of the various groups within the comic, for what that's worth considering the overall dysfunction junction. They're sweet to one another is what I'm saying.

CHEL: Dave talks to John, who mentions the creepy trails around his house and how he thinks he’s seen monsters, which we the audience have definitely seen; creepy little black imps with fangs and, oddly, jester outfits. They bear a striking resemblance to the Wayward Vagabond, in fact. Dave makes fun, but at least pretends not to disbelieve him, and urges him to keep his hammer at the ready. Dave can’t find his Bro, but can find “Lil Cal”, implying Bro is nearby.

TG: lil cal is the shit EB: that's fine, you are entitled to your opinion, i am just saying that being a white guy who is a rapper with a ventriloquist doll is not cool by any stretch of the imagination or by any definition of word cool, ironic or otherwise. that's all i'm saying. WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 5

Would a non-white rapping ventriloquist be any cooler? I’m struggling to see how. Ventriloquism, by definition, sucks the cool out of any other aspect of the thing. And now I’m picturing Carlton from Fresh Prince trying to rap with a ventriloquist’s doll.

BRIGHT: Back at the Lalonde residence, Rose attempts to ‘Youth Roll’ out of the front door, but her escape route is blocked by her mother, who appears with martini glass in hand. Time for our second Strife of the comic! (And can I say that I really like the music for this one?)

As with John’s strife with his dad, this strife tells us a lot about Rose’s relationship with her mother. John had the AGGRIEVE and ABJURE options; Rose also gets AGGRESS (PASSIVE) and ABSTAIN. It’s pretty telling that one of these options is an EMPTY SUICIDE THREAT, and ‘Abstain’ has Rose fending off her mother’s insistent offer of the martini glass.

FAILURE ARTIST: I liked the EMPTY SUICIDE THREAT at the time but now I think it deserves an ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?

BRIGHT: Mom Lalonde may be intended as loving-but-clueless, but she’s offering her thirteen year old daughter alcohol, over Rose’s protests, and something is clearly very wrong if suicide threats are a normal part of life. (Something similar will come up in the future, but in that context it isn’t played for laughs.)

ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 4

On a lighter note, ‘Abjure’ has her mother offering her A BEAUTIFUL PONY. Rose reacts in the moment like this is terrible, but does later pat the pony’s nose.

At any rate, the strife ends when Mom Lalonde apparently gets bored and decides to do some dusting. This takes all the fun out of using the front door, so Rose goes around the back to make her break for the generator.

Meanwhile, John is trying to read up on weaponizing sylladexes (sylladices?), but is being nagged by a voice to turn around — which he finally does, just in time for a monster to ram into him so hard it turns the panel pixelated. Strife time!

John’s bout with the Shale Imp kicks off with the monster threatening the Con Air bunny. John’s efforts to defend it are intercut with Rose’s progress out of the house and through the rain to the mausoleum. I think this interplay works quite nicely — it keeps both things moving without letting the reader get impatient -- but your mileage may vary.

The imp aggravates John by punching the bunny in the belly and waving it at him. John attacks the imp and breaks his hammer, then attacks it with the handle and gets knocked flat. Finally he weaponises his sylladex and chucks his inventory at it until it explodes into a shower of grist.

PUT THE BUNNY BACK IN THE BOX!!!!!! Now why couldn’t he put the bunny back in the box?

Because he’d set it as his strifekind, it turns out.

In true video game style, defeating the imp causes John to level up! In Homestuck, this is done by ascending one’s echeladder, a series of player levels with whimsical, old-fashioned names. John climbs two rungs, from Greentike to Plucky Tot, and earns 125 Boondollars.

Note how efficient this is: In one panel we can see that the echeladder is a levelling system, that Boondollars are in-Game currency, and that levelling up has increased John’s amount of grist and how much of it he can carry. He’s also got a new kind of grist called ‘Shale’. Hussie does take an extra panel to clarify the grist capacity expansion, but that makes sense as it’s a small part of the original panel. Compare this to the dozens of panels we’ve had laying out how sylladexes work. These panels are much more information-dense, and the comic flows better for it.

CHEL: Exactly what “grist” is and what it does beyond allowing changes to the house, why those changes are needed, and what “boondollars” are for hasn’t been explained yet, but will be soon, and it’s clear they’re something to do with the game so it’s not outright confusing.

BRIGHT: John spends the next few panels sorting his strife specibus out, and stashes the bunny in there for safekeeping. There’s something amiss, but he can’t quite put his finger on it...

Meanwhile, Rose has reached the mausoleum and prepares to activate the generator. The taxidermied corpse of her beloved pet lies in state, dressed in a tiny suit. A sad fate for an animal who should have peacefully decomposed in a flowerbed. Rose kicks it off the pedestal to make room for the laptop.

John discovers what’s wrong when a bucket of water perched atop his door lands on his head. The culprit behind this sudden dousing?

"[S] WHAT THIS IS SO OUTRAGEOUS (HD)" (Watch on YouTube)

Apparently the sprite has a sense of humour.

Next up is a pesterlog between Rose and Dave. There are hints that all is not well in the Strider residence.

TG: hey TG: dont tell john this but i think he might have been right about the puppets TG: theyre sort of starting to freak me out a little TT: You're referring to your brother's collection? TG: i mean dont get me wrong i think its cool and all TG: the semi-ironic puppet thing or whatever TG: or semi-semi ironic TG: man i dont even know TG: im just starting to think some of this shit is going a little far and its kind of fucked up TT: I've seen his websites. TT: I like them. TG: haha yeah well YOU WOULD TG: oh man i wish lil cal wouldnt look at me like that TG: with those dead eyes jesus TG: sometimes i dream that hes real and hes talking to me and i wake up in a cold sweat and basically flip the fuck out

Well, not so much hints as flashing neon signs. Dave’s gone very quickly from insisting that everything his brother does is cool and Lil Cal is awesome, to admitting that he has nightmares about Lil Cal and is freaked out by his brother’s ‘semi-ironic puppet thing’. We don’t know much about Bro’s websites yet, but we do know that Rose has a morbid streak, and Dave is clearly disturbed by the content.

Dave leaves to find his brother’s copy of the game, and we return to John, who, to quote Rose, has ‘just had a bucket of water dumped on his head by the ghost of his dead grandmother, who also happens to be dressed like a clown.’

And yes, that is indeed John’s dead Nanna, returned to help him on his journey through The Medium and beyond -- or at least, she claims she is. John has to take her word for it, as he doesn’t remember her at all. According to his Dad, John was pretty young when she died. Speaking of his Dad, he’s been kidnapped by the forces invading John’s home.

Nannasprite gives John the background of the game and what’s going on. His house is now in the Medium. This place was created by the game software, but is physically independent of it -- and no, he’s not inside a computer. The Medium floats in the Incipisphere, a place outside the normal flow of time in the kids’ universe. Above the Medium is the realm of Skaia.

According to Nannasprite:

Legend holds that Skaia exists as a dormant crucible of unlimited creative potential. What does this mean, you ask? I'm afraid my lips are sealed about that, dear! Hoo hoo!

Nannasprite is somewhat like a tutorial assistant for the game -- she helps guide John and provides information, although she’s somewhat cryptic.

We are getting a lot of new words here, but Hussie is defining them pretty well as we go, so I don’t think it merits a point.

At any rate, Skaia is defended by the forces of light, while forces of darkness plot its destruction. These two forces exist in an endless stalemate on a stage at the centre of Skaia until a player with a prototyped Kernelsprite enters the Medium. Then the prototyped Kernelsprite splits, with one Kernel carrying the prototyping information up to a kingdom basked in light, and another Kernel carrying it down to the kingdom of darkness. Each kingdom has four Spires, and when the Kernel reaches one, it propagates the prototyping information to the kingdom’s forces.

This is why the imps were dressed as jesters: John prototyped his Kernel with the harlequin doll, and whatever the other players prototype with will influence what forms the soldiers take. When the first Kernels reach the spires, the battlefield gets bigger and the war begins for real.

Oh, right -- and the forces of light are always destined to lose.

So what’s the point? Apparently, that’s for John to find out. For now, though, he needs to head towards Skaia, going through the first of seven Gates. The first Gate is situated directly above John’s house, but the others are going to be harder to reach. We now find out what all that Build Grist is for: To get to the Gate, they need to build the house higher to reach it. And then they can rescue John’s Dad, solve the ultimate riddle, and save the Earth from destruction!

...or not.

Nope, according to Nannasprite, Earth is doomed. Done for. Kaput. There is nothing they can do to save it.

John is pretty bummed about this. He isn’t cheered by Nanna’s assurance that he has a much more important purpose than saving the planet, although she fails to elaborate on that point and instead floats off to make cookies.

CHEL: I think here we earn another couple of points.

HURRY UP AND DO NOTHING: 2 HOW NOT TO WRITE A WEBCOMIC: 11 Failing the Turing Test - wherein the character has no reactions whatsoever While the emotional lives of characters should not be described in their every tiny wrinkle, characters must have emotional lives. When someone boos them off a stage, they should experience chagrin. When they fall from a tenth-storey window, they should feel alarm. The writer should not count on dialogue like “Yikes!” to get the point across.

Brief confusion and feeling “bummed out” by the news that one’s entire planet is doomed does not count as an adequate reaction. I’d expect more fear, more concern. As pointed out before, doesn’t John have any friends other than Dave, Rose, and GG? His Dad has friends, wouldn’t he be concerned for them on Dad’s behalf? If nothing else, more curiosity about this “more important” business?

BRIGHT: Now, I could actually buy this in some circumstances — John is a teenager, doesn’t seem to have close connections outside those we see on screen, and he’s been having one hell of a weird day. I wouldn’t be surprised if grasping the scope of destruction was simply beyond him at this point. It’s a lot to take in, and it’s only been a few hours since life went to hell in a handbasket — not to mention, he’s in an active combat zone. There’s a lot going on, and if he was to shove it out of his mind while he dealt with the immediate crisis, I could see that as pretty realistic.

Of course, that would depend on him actually reacting at some later point, when he had a chance to slow down and it could sink in. As it stands...well, if that does happen, we never see it.

CHEL: Does this also count as “Oh, Don’t Mind Him” for the How Not To score?

BRIGHT: I think so, yes.

CHEL: Then here it goes!

HOW NOT TO WRITE A WEBCOMIC: 12 Oh, Don’t Mind Him - where a character’s problems remain unexplored In real life, people are riddled with chronic problems that are not addressed for long periods of time, if ever. But in fiction, all problems are just the opening chords of a song. If there is a brother who has a problem with alcohol, a child who has lost her dog, or even someone whose car has simply broken down, the reader will worry about those people and expect the author to do something about it.

Technically, this could count for seven billion or so points, minus any people who successfully entered their own game sessions, but we don’t want to get out of hand here and it really only counts as one big problem.

However! I am very fond of this idea in theory. The obvious option would be that the purpose of the game is to save the player’s homeworld. We’ve all seen the “save the homeworld” idea in scifi and fantasy before. Here, the homeworld is beyond saving, but there is another option, and exploring that is the storyline. The forces of light cannot have a traditional victory; the protagonists must find a victory on the terms they have. It’s not a theme one sees often, and I like it.

FAILURE ARTIST: John and the other Beta Kids’ lack of angst of the destruction of their planet doesn’t stick out as much here as it will later when almost everything else is milked for angst.

CHEL: I’m not really sure the planet being destroyed is a great basis for a Rule-of-Funny-based story if that was what he was going for, to be honest. “Billions died, lol!”

“Gallery of Infamy”

While figuring out a way to mend their relationship with their mother Rainbow Dash, the mare gives Monochrome a surprise visit that leads them through memory lane.

Feat: Monochrome

Story and Description Under The Cut

Tick...tick… The sound of a ticking wall clock was the only thing that bounced off the cloud-walls of Monochrome’s room. There they sat at their wooden desk in one corner, pencil in wing...staring. They blankly stared at the crisp sheet of paper laid out before them, with a measly two sentences written at the top. But no matter how long they sat there thinking, sifting through their brain for the right coherent thoughts and feelings, the words they sought out just refused to form. Soon enough the pegasus was shoving the paper away from them, towards a messy pile of other discarded attempts.  Firmly placing their pencil down, Monochrome sat back in their chair with a light creak and closed their eyes. A frustrated sigh escaped their muzzle. “This isn’t working…” they mumbled to themself, opening their green eyes half way to tiredly stare at the white ceiling. Monochrome knew themself. They knew they were horrendously incapable of putting their feelings into words. And now, they were learning that it wasn’t just the spoken word that they struggled with. So much for having a famous writer for a mom. ‘How am I going to do this…?’ Mo’s eyes opened fully when they felt something cold, smooth, and familiar nudge at their leg. Looking down, they were greeted by curious beady eyes and a lovable wrinkly green face. Tank slow-blinked at Monochrome and a crease in his forehead gave away his confusion and worry. As he tilted his head to express his question, a soft and adorable turtle-grunt left his throat. Monochrome’s stresses began to seep away at the sight. With a gentle smile, Mo shook their head. “I’m fine, Tank. I’m just trying to figure out how to...talk to mom. Rainbow Dash, I mean.” The turtle’s eyes widened in recognition, and ever so slowly a wide, delighted smile began to pull at his mouth. Very slowly. Yet Monochrome loved watching it nonetheless. “I know...a long time coming, I guess. “ Reaching out, Monochrome sifted their failed letter attempts into a pile, making a mental note to take them to a recycler later. “I need to...sort things out. And take that actual first step in moving past my problems with her. But I don’t know what I’m doing…” Monochrome frowned down at the pile, taking in the various erase marks and struck-out words. It really was so much easier, avoiding these feelings altogether and the ones who fueled them. The insecurity. The bitterness. Monochrome guarded themself from these feelings with indifference and detachment. That’s who they’d become. They knew it all too well. If only they knew how to convey that. They needed to let her know, right? That out of everyone in their life - between the harsh peers and long lost friends - she was the one who had contributed to their...problems the most. 'She certainly didn't help my case...' Before Monochrome could let themself indulge in these thoughts they had been so keen on burying, the sound of their doorbell reached their ears. The pegasus raised an eyebrow before pushing their chair out and climbing off. “I’ll be back, Tank.” After an affectionate pat on the turtle’s head, Monochrome set off for the front door. As they moved down their hallway to the foyer, they searched their brain for any ideas on who could be at their door. The mail had already been delivered earlier in the day. And they didn’t have to recheck deadlines to know that none of their commissions were due." ‘Skychaser’s been busy. Ven, maybe? I know he and mom came back last week-’ So as Monochrome opened their door, one could imagine their tension, and confusion, over seeing a surprised Rainbow Dash at their doorstep. “Chromey~!” Their mother exclaimed, a grin stretching across her face. “EYYY you’re actually home for once! Venny can never seem to find you here, you know?” “Hello….” Monochrome greeted slowly, still processing the mare’s presence. With a soft “oooh!” at seeing the foyer behind them, Rainbow Dash invited herself in and flew past their kid. Even as they closed their door, Monochrome eyed their mother, perplexed. Wary, even. ‘She always sends Ven to get me...since when did she visit me personally?’ “Did you need something…?” They asked hesitantly, interrupting their mother as she admired the room. The question caught her attention and she playfully rolled her eyes, drifting down to land on the floor and wave a hoof dismissively at them. “PSSSH, whaaaat?! I can’t visit my own kiddo from time to time?” Something about the slightly higher pitch to her voice gave the pegasus the impression that she was hiding something. But Monochrome didn’t have much time to voice any other questions as their mother gave the room another glance around. “Geez, this place is looking AWESOME, Chromey! haven’t been in here since you moved in last year!” She sighed wistfully. “Takes me back to when I had my own cloudominium...good times! How are you liking it here? I’m sure having your own place is pretty cool, huh~?” “It is,” Monochrome agreed, their gaze flicking off to one side. They shifted in discomfort, feeling oddly vulnerable. “It’s been nice.” This was weird...right? Their mother visiting was already throwing them off. But really, a random opportunity to ‘make up’ with her had literally just waltzed in unannounced.  Yet something this unplanned was not making the idea of it any easier. ‘I’m not ready for this...am I supposed to spend time with her? I don't even know what to talk about.’ It was then that Rainbow’s eyes caught sight of a certain wall in their hallway, and her magenta eyes lit up. “Now wait a damn second, you sneaky little- are those ribbons?!” She briskly trotted over and Monochrome followed close behind. The hallway wall presented an assortment of Monochrome’s art pieces, all lined up neatly in black picture frames. Some pieces were simply projects Monochrome had wanted on display, while others had ribbons of different shapes and sizes pinned at the corners. Rainbow Dash let out a long whistle at the sight. “Like mother like kiddo, if you ask me!” “Sure...” Monochrome took in her face, how her eyes gleamed with some form of excitement at the sight before her. No surprise, though. She used to collect ribbons and trophies herself. Their ribbons, regardless of how they won them, just showed her that her kid had managed to follow her hoofsteps in some way. The artwork that won them in the first place probably didn’t matter much to her. That’s what their mind reasoned, at least. “Pft, of course Tank is the very first picture here! You always did like drawing the little guy~” Rainbow snickered, taking in a faded sketch of the turtle. That was true. But Monochrome was familiar with this piece in particular. It was done in their last year of elementary, when they were ten years old and their art skills were still in their earlier stages. With their current experience, Monochrome could now see that the shading values in the sketch weren’t very prominent and some lines were messy. But the effort was clear. They had been given an opportunity to choose an animal to draw for an art project, and they had jumped on the chance to draw their best friend. Though they also remembered how their younger self had left out Tanks limbs, just so he’d be easier to draw (though what beginner artist hadn’t done something similar at least once?) This was probably the oldest one they had chosen to frame up, and Monochrome felt no shame looking at such old art. Catching flaws they hadn't noticed when they first had drawn the piece only proved how much they had grown as an artist since then. But as they stared at the sketch, aware of their mother’s presence beside them, they were reminded of the second half of the memory tied to it. Their teacher had thought that it’d be fun to hold a mini contest - to let the class vote on their favorite drawing on presentation day and even invite parents to attend the class for the viewing. Their mother Daring had caught a bad cold and couldn’t attend at the time, so naturally, Rainbow Dash had been the only one left. Despite having just returned from one of her missions, Rainbow had promised to go. Monochrome had looked forward to showing off a special drawing of their mother’s pet, not only to the class, but to her as well. ...though when she didn’t show, Monochrome only found out upon returning home that their mother - while she was out that morning - had gotten caught up in a run-in with the Wonderbolt’s captain, Spitfire. Whatever the two had managed to catch up on that day, Rainbow had...lost track of time. ‘She was never good at handling distractions…especially when tired. Guess that’s where Ven gets his clumsiness from.’ The thought was meant to be half-hearted. A distraction. It had been years since that time. And yet, remembering it now was making them even more aware of her presence, and the feelings she brought. ‘Well this isn’t helping.’ “WHOA-HOA, what’s this?” Rainbow Dash was now focused on the next framed image, one Monochrome knew they had done with graphite pencils, if the crisper shading and details didn’t give it away. Monochrome had been fourteen, and they remembered their early high school art project theme; heroes. There in the image, Daring Do stood alone at the top of a cliff, her dark hair billowing while she outstretched her wings. An image of strength, and one they were personally fond of for obvious reasons. Looking at the image again, Monochrome wouldn’t have minded having ‘Valor Wind’ standing alongside Equestria’s most underappreciated hero. But at the time, Venture Gale hadn’t even joined Rainbow Dash on her missions yet; not until two years later, in fact. “How come I’ve never seen this one before?” Rainbow Dash crossed her arms, jokingly shooting Monochrome a judging look despite the smirk on her muzzle. “Oh I see how it is! You know, if you wanted Spectrum Storm to pose for a drawing, all you had to do was ask!” “...I did.” Rainbow’s grin fell immediately, a look of surprise and puzzlement replacing it. Monochrome winced. They hadn’t meant for that to come out as harsh as it did. “Huh? Wait, when?” Monochrome paused, letting themself actually choose their words for once. Yet another memory association uncovered; how the Heroes Project was originally going to be a surprise tribute for both mothers’ adventure identities. “When I was planning this piece. You just...had trouble focusing.” Monochrome quietly thought back on their mother’s inability to simply stand still. Which, as annoying as it was, was understandable in hindsight. Not everyone could stand or pose for a set period of time. But it was Rainbow’s attitude at the time that they remembered; the way she whined about wanting Daring to take her place, and the moment Venture Gale came home with a new game, Rainbow had perked back up from her hunched over state. 'Inconspicuously' moving towards the door, she had reminded Monochrome that Daring would be a "waaaay" better suited model than her. Afterwards she rushed out of the room without even waiting for an answer. After that, they just couldn’t get the right look or feeling down for “Spectrum”, and in the end Monochrome had given up and had chosen to stick with a Daring Do tribute. Frustration and that newfound blooming seed of jealousy probably didn’t help with the change of heart. Recreations with Venture just always seemed to be more fun for her. Her preference. “Oh…” Rainbow became quiet, looking down and rubbing her foreleg. Not knowing what else to say, Monochrome chose to leave Rainbow in her awkward silence. They focused instead on their artwork, hoping they could maybe find something different to talk or at least think about. Taking in this piece, Monochrome was reminded of how they really did used to enjoy reading their mother Daring’s work. From her Daring Do series to her Spectrum Storm sequel, the books had always been full of empowerment and adventure with a captivating writing style Monochrome could always recognize. But ever since “Valor Wind” made his debut, and Mo’s not-so-pleasant feelings arose...well, the last three books their mother had published - first prints she had joyfully gifted to them - were still sitting on their shelf, untouched. Monochrome couldn’t bring themself to, and it wasn’t even out of spite at this point. They genuinely had made various efforts to read the volumes, for the sake of supporting their mother’s hobby, but...doing so stirred up those unpleasant emotions, feeding a fire that only pushed them deeper into their own pool of insecurities and bitterness. And it frustrated them - it really did - that these things had to make them feel this way. This was their mother’s passionate work about their own family. Yet for the sake of their own emotional and mental wellbeing - even if it meant being out of the loop when it came to their brother's experiences out there- Monochrome had no choice but to lie about keeping up with Daring’s work. They avoided retellings of the adventures altogether. Now the pegasus could barely look at the covers of their mother's unread books without feeling a knot of guilt. ‘Alright, this was a bad idea. I get it. Everything has a negative connection to her, apparently.’ Monochrome searched their brain, ready to change the subject or at least find something else for their mother to focus on. Just as they were opening their mouth, they noticed Rainbow’s eyebrows shoot up, something further into the hall gaining her full attention. “Wait isn’t that…?” She trotted over a few frames down to a different art piece. Monochrome couldn't help but silently follow, curious. They never imagined their mother recognizing any of these pieces, with how much she had missed over the years. So after tracing the mare’s gaze to the exact image that was captivating her, Monochrome came to an abrupt halt at the sight. ‘Oh.’ It was a striking piece, if they could say so themself. Their first attempt at mixed media. Using charcoal and chalk pastels, their twelve-year-old self had deviated from drawing from life and drew from their imagination instead. So staring back at the two of them was a Timberwolf, posed elegantly with dark, strong tones to highlight its ferocity. But unlike a normal Timberwolf, it was spring-inspired. The beast’s branches was adorned with various glowing flowers, giving it a hauntingly beautiful look. Monochrome remembered how excited they were of the concept, pouring their heart into the piece a little each day. At the time, it had been one of their best and proudest works. And it still was. The blue ribbon hanging from the pictures corner said enough. And yet, right now, remembering that day brought back a hollow feeling in their chest. For once, Rainbow Dash wasn’t grinning, or speaking with unbridled confidence. As she spoke, her voice was strangely soft and pensive. “I remember this one...middle school, right? This was the drawing you entered into your first art show. When you gained your cutie mark.” Rainbow became quiet again, staring at the artwork. It would take a moment longer before she would turn to Monochrome, a regretful look on her face. “I...wish I could’ve been there, kiddo. Really. What I would’ve given to see you earn your mark that day.” Monochrome averted their gaze, an ache they had worked years to will away beginning to rise back from the depths Things had taken an abrupt, dangerous turn in Southern Equestria. And the morning of the show, Rainbow had received the news. “You were busy.” Monochrome murmured. They tried, and failed, to think of more to say. What else was there to say? Even if they had their doubts on just how much their mother Daring exaggerated in her books, they were aware of their mothers’ serious line of work. That’s why they had looked up to their parents, especially Rainbow Dash, in the first place. Maybe back then it was harder to grasp, but as an adult, they had an understanding. But that hadn’t prevented the damage. For the longest time, Monochrome had thought it was feeling forgotten that had damaged them and their relationship with their mother. But as they stood there, they realized it wasn’t just that. It was feeling forgettable. It was being in the background, where none of the things they enjoyed seemed to matter. It was feeling like a fleeting experience, easy to replace with something more interesting than they were; an adventurous life. Ponies who were far more similar to her. And even if it wasn't entirely their mother's fault that they had this complex - growing up a quiet, introverted child had made socialization harder after all - she had without a doubt contributed greatly to it. Art had always been a part of them. It wasn’t just a fun hobby turned into a job. It was also self-expression, used to convey the things that they was passionate about and the things that were important to them. So if there was no one to receive and respond with equal fervor, if the one pony they wanted to convey these things to felt disinterested and absent - then...what kind of existence was that, keeping these things to themself? ‘A lonely one.’ Sure, Rainbow made short-lived attempts at asking about their work and would give her compliments. But after everything, how was Monochrome supposed to believe she had any ounce of genuine interest in what they loved? In them. Words bubbled up to Monochrome’s mouth before they could even stop them. “I always wanted to share this part of my life with you.” The words came out soft. And no matter how much they felt like more had to be said, they just couldn’t find the words. Unable to meet Rainbow’s gaze, Monochrome kept their eyes locked on their art. They could feel her eyes on them, and soon, Monochrome regretted even speaking. Then they felt something softly brush over their back, followed by the warmth of a body pressing into them. It tore Mo’s attention away, and there, they took in the sight of their mother, staring guiltily at them. “I really missed a lot, huh...I’m really sorry kiddo” She sighed, withdrawing her wing. “I know you’re a workaholic like me, and you love your alone time. I always try to give you your space and stuff, but...it’s been forever since we’ve actually done anything together. We barely get to see each other anymore.” A red hue came over Rainbow’s face, and she ducked her head while rubbing her neck. “Look, I’m not any good with words-” ‘... so that’s where I get it from-’ “-but I just hope we can...hang more? Like, maybe you can drop by more! When you can? I know Ven’s been missing you too.” “Is...that why you came by today?” Rainbow blinked. “Huh?” Monochrome shifted in place. “You said earlier that you just wanted to visit, but...you’re kind of a bad liar, mom. No offense.” “Oh.” Rainbow nervously laughed, awkwardly rubbing her hooves together. “Aaactually, um...your mom kind of told me that you and Skychaser aren’t a thing anymore. So I wanted to check up on you? You know, without making it weird! But I was hoping I could convince you to join us when you’re not working. Cause I mean...it could help. Maybe?” It was surprising, to say the least. Rainbow was very obviously embarrassed talking about any of this. Monochrome had never seen their mom this awkward before. But there was some sort of opening here. Monochrome just had to find it. “I’m fine. My friendship with Sky is going to be okay.” A pause. “...I’ll be busy for at least another week or two. I’m a little behind. But...if you guys are still around after I catch up on my commissions, I’ll see if I can come over.” Rainbow Dash perked up, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. With a joyous laugh she zoomed up into the air, doing an aerial spin. “WHOO! Sounds awesome to me!” Still loud as ever....but Monochrome was willing to start adapting. Their ear then twitched, catching a faint sound behind them. Something like slow scratching. The pegasus knew who they’d see before they even turned around. Rainbow, too, seemed to notice the extra presence and gasped dramatically. “TANK!!” At the sight of his old caretaker, Monochrome watched as Tank’s mouth widened into a radiant gummy grin, his eyes practically shining with glee. The very sight struck Mo, knowing just how much Tank loved their mom. Both Rainbow and Monochrome simultaneously moved to meet the slow turtle. While Monochrome picked Tank up and cradled him, Rainbow lowered her hooves back down to the floor. “It’s so great to see you, buddy!” the mare exclaimed, trotting closer to him. Tank was already stretching his neck forward in Monochrome’s arms, opening his mouth to let out a cheerful little turtle-grunt in return. With a grin as wide as her little friend’s, Rainbow lowered her head and met Tank’s snout with her own in an affectionate nose boop. It was one of many that they had shared in the past, even before Monochrome was born. Monochrome watched the scene with a small sense of wonder, letting the two have their moment. Rainbow was happily asking the tortoise a variety of questions, and Tank’s turtle-grunts and squeaks responded to her with a matching energy. The sight of Tank’s happiness with their mother had Monochrome’s gaze softening, a gentle smile forming on their muzzle. It was true that Monochrome and Rainbow were barely anything alike. In personality, in interests. But Monochrome now realized that there was one single thing that they did share. Their mutual love for Tank. There was a chance it was the only thing that connected them and made them alike in any way. But maybe...maybe that was a good enough place to start than anything. Not just for their own benefit, but Tank’s as well. “Hey mom. I may be busy...but how about letting Tank stay with you guys? You know, until he needs to hibernate next week.” Both Tank and Rainbow Dash looked up at the pale pegasus, both equally caught off guard. “Wait, really?” Mo nodded. “Yeah. You and I aren’t the only ones who haven’t seen each other much. Tank deserves some one-on-one time with you, don’t you think? It’s been a while.” Rainbow and Tank exchanged glances. It didn’t take long for a grin to break back out on their mother’s face. Tank’s smile was taking a tad bit longer to form. “You know what? That’s a great idea! It could be like old times, buddy! You and me and some racing and Spectrum Storm books! What d’you say?” Tank nodded as quickly and eagerly as he could. Monochrome couldn’t hold back their chuckle. Of course he’d be on board. “Awesome!” Rainbow looked back over at her kid, already brimming with excitement. “Where’s Tank’s stuff? I can totally pack everything in a heartbeat!” “Everything’s in my room.” Monochrome motioned their head further into the hallway. “Last door on the left. You can find a travel bag in my closet-” “GOT IT!” With a burst of wind and a rainbow trail, their mother was dashing down the hall and into the bedroom. The sound of rummaging could be heard even from down the hall, and Monochrome prayed she wouldn’t somehow make a mess of their room. Feeling a nudge at their chest, Monochrome returned their attention to the turtle in their arms. There was a glimmer to his green eyes, and Mo easily recognized it as a mix of pride and gratitude. “You’re welcome, buddy.” Monochrome murmured, smiling down at him. “I know I’ve been the one taking you to your hibernation spot for years...but just this once, I think it’s her turn to read you your bedtime story.” Guilt pinched at their stomach. “I guess I could be there too...but I don’t think I’m ready to be alone with her like that. Without you.” Monochrome frowned, their eyebrows drawing back. “Unless you need me there, that is. Then-” Tank slowly slid one of his arms out of his shell and gently laid his foot on Monochrome’s arm. He shone that crinkly smile up at them, and Mo knew he understood. The relief eased their worried mind. Mo deeply exhaled the rest of the worries out. “Thanks Tank...now then. Are you going to behave?” Tank paused, as if taking a moment to think about it, before smiling serenely and shaking his head. Monochrome’s own eyes crinkled in amusement and fondness. “Good.” With that, Monochrome placed a loving peck on top of his head, and it only took a few seconds longer before their mother was zipping back up to them, the travel bag tossed over her shoulder. “Alright, got Mr. Squeaks, you bed, your ‘copter and goggles...that should be everything!” Flying down to Monochrome’s level, Rainbow Dash gave her kid a curious look. “Hey, you sure you don’t want to come too, Chromey? You could stay in your old room for a while and do your work over at our place! We won’t bother you! I mean, it’ll be kinda lonely here by yourself, won’t it?”   Monochorme resisted a wince. They hadn’t really thought about the extra level of silence that’d exist without Tank being there. But it was like they had told Tank; they weren’t ready to move that fast. And they had other valid reasons. “I think I’d be able to concentrate better here. Besides, you know how my room gets cold and drafty now during the winter. It’s better to just keep my door closed.” “Well, if you say so!” With Tank in arm, Monochrome flapped their wings and joined Rainbow in moving towards the door. As their mother moved to open it, Monochrome took the chance to gently nuzzle Tank’s head. The realization that this was an early hibernation-send off was beginning to settle in, and that familiar ball of emotion was beginning to form within their chest. “I’ll see you in spring, Tank.” They whispered softly, only loud enough for him to hear. With a throaty noise in response, Tank affectionately rubbed his cheek against Monochrome’s. If it weren’t for Rainbow’s presence, Mo would have allowed their emotions to seep out. Thankfully, practice over the years had brought them enough control. ‘Yet somehow, this goodbye feels worse than every other one’ When their mother spun around and held out her forelegs with a smile, Monochrome carefully handed Tank over, moving their head every which way to make sure he was being held securely. With a sigh, Monochrome turned their attention back to their mother. “Don’t forget your copy of his favorite Daring Do book when he hibernates. You know he can’t-” “-fall asleep without it.” Rainbow finished in unison with Monochrome. The mare let out a snicker and Mo, surprisingly, felt the corner of their mouth pull up. “Right.” “Trust me, Chromey, I won’t!” Rainbow Dash smirked. “I’ll see you later then, pal! Don’t work yourself too hard!” “I’ll try not to.” With one last beam, Rainbow turned and began flying out the door. Monochrome followed her up to their doorway and hovered there as they saw the two off. It was then that the pegasus noticed a certain turtle head poke up over their mother’s shoulder, smiling at them. Mo practically felt their heart clench as Tank gave a little wave with his foot over Rainbow’s arm. Monochrome made sure to wave back, until neither of them were visible anymore. Monochrome retreated back into their house, letting out a heavy sigh as the stresses of that whole exchange finally caught up with them. They knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Hell, Monochrome had barely even scratched the surface of things. There was certainly still a long way to go before they could find the right words - and well...the courage - to convey all the things they had kept away. But hey...this was a start.