you’re probably offline again, and I don’t know if anyone is gonna see this. but your au is genuinely one of my most favorite Undertale AUs ever. I have been in the Undertale fandom for a LONG time, but I don’t think there will ever be something as well written as the Caretaker AU again. the amount of research and love put into it is so cool. it truly does feel like something that could possibly happen in the actual canon and I LOVE it.

your version of Chara is also one of the most best portrayals of them I’ve EVER seen in the entire history of the fandom. when you began releasing the final chapters for the AU, I remember just sitting at my computer and rereading Chara’s lines over and over again. because their character was just so interesting to see in action. even when it was still a comic, their goddamn expressions and words are just so memorable to me. I still and always will have that little sadistic smile ingrained in my brain. (that also includes literally every character in comic even the background ones.) I love how you handle Chara as well, how you made them a horrible person but not totally unrealistic. like that one asker said, you feel bad for them, but just a LITTLE TINY bit. because they always screw up everything for themself and then go blame a 12 year old for it.

speaking of Frisk, your portrayal of them is definitely so very canon to me. I love their design and personality so much. they are so just relatable too, possibly one of the most realistic 12 year olds I’ve seen in a comic. they remind me a lot of me in a way, especially when I was 12 lol. I’m beyond happy they got a happy ending, they deserve it after, y’know, everything.

I wish you all luck on any other projects you may be working on. and I hope you are proud of what you have accomplished. :) you crafted a truly beautiful story. now if you don’t mind me, I’m just going to go reread everything again.

(take a shot every time I say ever lol, sorry for any spelling mistakes, thank you for reading it all)

Thank you so much for your kind words. Caretaker truly was a huge labor of love. I remember back when Ellipsis came up with the concept how it just gripped me like a bear trap. I couldn't stop thinking about it! Eruto felt the same way and was saying we should make a comic, and I was like, "no no, I don't want to do all that line art" but then she was like, you won't be alone we can draw it TOGETHER and then to demonstrate she took one of my super rough sketches and lined and colored it. And I was like, wow okay maybe this is feasible.

The resulting 3-ish years it felt like we were spending every waking hour working on Caretaker. I carried my sketchbook everywhere and would draw out thumbnails during my breaks at work, I'd be thinking about it on the drive home, and then we'd get on a discord call together to draw, line, and color for hours at a time. I could go on but the bottom line is that I LOVED IT. Each finished page (drawn or written!) fills me with pride and I look back fondly on the time spent creating and maintaining this blog together. It was exciting, compelling, and at many times exhausting, but worth it.

As far as the characterization goes, glad that you appreciate it! We reminded ourselves to never lose sight of the fact that Chara was still a human being--full of contradictions and ego and multiple-facets--but we didn't want to justify their behavior either. We all know people who are selfish, manipulative, and arrogant, but what happens when a person like that gets naïve enablement and never has to face any repercussions for their behavior? Without the correcting force that is LIFE, a cynical, angry, cruel child like Chara didn't have any reason to second-guess their worldview. Of course anything that goes wrong must be the fault of someone else!

This has already gotten kinda long, so all I'll say on Frisk is thank you and glad you agree! Personally, I knew some friends of the family who had kids about that age so I tried to reference their behavior in my mind when it came to writing Frisk. (Though most of Frisk's behaviors boil down to "RUN!!") Through the many discussions and occasional rewrites of this story, we always planned on ensuring Frisk had a happy ending. ♥

Thanks once again for the ask, and I hope you enjoy the reread!

Blind Date (continued)

You invite Colson in after your blind date

Request: “I loved this so much! If you get the chance and are up to it, I’d love a second part!” ”I would like to read a second part of it”

Colson X Reader

Warnings: cursing

A/N: Have I edited this? No. Did I even look back over this after I wrote it? Also no

Word Count: 1974

Your hand touched the handle before you turned around, finding Colson in the same situation at his car door, still looking at you. “Do you maybe wanna… come in?” You asked, biting your lip. His face lit up, a smirk highlighting his features.

“I would love that.”

The man’s lanky figure strutted over to your front door as you opened it, pausing as he entered to take in the smell of your house that screamed you. He let his eyes wander around the place as he stepped further in, taking off his coat and shoes at the front entryway.

You moved into the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of red wine while he made his way into the space. You found a note on the counter from your best friend and roommate.

Staying at Eric’s tonight in case you and your date need the place to yourself <3

You rolled your eyes at the note, chuckling as you tossed it in the trash. You rustled through your drawers to grab a corkscrew, fiddling with the bottle as Colson shuffled into the room, standing behind you to encase you in his arms.

He took the corkscrew from your hands and opened the bottle with ease. “I was getting there,” you whined jokingly.

He chuckled, “I could see that.” You turned around and allowed your lower back to rest against the counter, squeezed between the surface and Colson. His arms rested on the countertop on either side of you, his figure leaning to be level with you.

You couldn’t help but admire his features, his bright blue eyes and the stubble on his jaw sparking your artistic mind. “I wish I could sketch you right now,” you murmured your thoughts aloud.

He smirked, leaning closer into you, your lips almost meeting, “why don’t you?”

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before softly speaking, “you would get bored being my model.”

He pulled away from you, fingers running across your waist until they found your hands, intertwining your fingers. “I would be honored to be your model.”

You perked an eyebrow, “seriously?”

He shrugged, “I’ve done it before for cameras, and you are much more interesting than photographers.” He pulled you away from the counter, “go get your stuff and I’ll pour wine.”

Rolling your eyes, you walked towards your art room, which was really just your bedroom, “don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

When you returned, he was wandering your small living area, a glass of wine in his hands and one on the small coffee table. His eyes danced along the picture frames you and your roommate had placed around the house when you first moved in, which you honestly hadn’t looked at since.

You stepped into the room with your sketchbook and pencils, making your presence known. His gaze drifted to you with a smile, watching you settle onto the couch, “so, is this your roommate?” He motioned towards one of the pictures.

You glanced up, smiling at the goofy picture you two had taken at graduation, “yep, that’s us.” You turned your head back to your book, flipping to the next blank page as he continued asking about your pictures.

“Who’s in this one?” He asked, pointing to a photo of your roommate and her boyfriend, Eric.

You chuckled at the image of them pulling funny faces in the front seat of a car while you sat in the background looking bored, “that’s Eric, her boyfriend. We went on this huge road trip and they swore I wouldn’t have to third wheel, but I obviously did.”

Colson let out a small laugh, taking a sip of his wine, “and who is that?”

You had honestly forgotten about the picture he was pointing to, but seeing it made your stomach fill with unease. “Oh, I forgot that was still up,” you sighed at Colson’s curious expression, “that’s me and my ex, TJ. We broke up months ago, I thought I’d gotten everything of his out of here.”

Colson could see the discomfort in your expression, sitting down on the armchair next to your couch, throwing his legs over the side and posing dramatically. “Bad ex, huh?” You nodded, not wanting to make him uncomfortable with the conversation, though you wanted nothing more than to open up to him. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

You rolled your eyes, turning so you could face him, “of all the poses, that’s what you pick?”

He smiled innocently, “yep.” A chuckle fell from your lips as you looked down at your sketchbook, pressing your pencil to the paper. “Fine, I’ll go first,” he began, “can’t really get to know each other if we don’t get at least a little bit of trauma out of the way.”

You looked up at him and giggled, “you got me there.”

He sighed, taking a sip of his wine, “Baze told me not to talk about it, but the look on your face when I asked you about him tells me you might be able to relate.” You raised an eyebrow but kept drawing, giving him a silent signal to continue. “I was dating this girl for a while, you’ve probably heard of her, Megan Fox.”

Your eyes went wide at the name, looking up at him in shock, “yeah, because that’s not an intimidating act to follow at all!”

Colson waved you off, “you’re doing great so far, don’t even worry about it.” You gave him a stern look, but he only continued with his story, “anyways, we were together for a while and she told me all the time she thought we were soulmates, and I believed her, you know?” You bit your lip, starting to feel slightly intimidated as he spoke about the woman. “But then she cheated on me after, like, 9 months. And I realized after we broke up how wrong we were for each other and how much she manipulated me.”

You frowned as he spoke, his tone getting sadder with each word. “That’s so shitty. I don’t understand why people cheat in long term relationships, especially after you’ve given them so much hope and trust. Like someone convinces you that they love you and then they go around and pull that shit. It’s evil.”

He nodded, a slight smile on his face, “I’m over it now though, in case you were worried. Came to the realization about a month or two later that I was better without her.”

You held the pencil in your hands still, trying to find the words you needed to say. “I, uh, I was dating that guy, TJ. We had been friends for a while and he asked me out and I said yes. Everything was great, you know? And then like almost a year end he starts acting all weird and possessive. Like just because we had been together for so long means he doesn’t have to treat me like his girlfriend anymore. He would make me feel like shit in front of our friends and just all around was being a shitty boyfriend.” Colson stared at you intensely with a frown on his face, eyebrows furrowed.

“A guy should never do that shit to his girl. You don’t deserve that shit, no one does.”

You nodded sadly, “yeah, well, then I found out like 4 months into all of this that he had cheated on me and gotten the girl pregnant so… I ended things real quick.” You let out a sad huff, turning your attention back to the book and continuing your sketch of the beautiful man in front of you. “I was really upset at first but now I’m just kind of angry. Dude was a dick.”

Colson let out a dry laugh as you took a long sip of wine, “sounds like it. I’m sorry you went through that shit.”

You shrugged, smiling up at him, “if I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here.”

He chuckled, biting his lip, “guess something good came out of it.”

A blush spread across your cheeks, “oh yeah, the food was amazing.” Your words were full of sarcasm, yet the pout on his face still made you giggle, “I’m joking, loser.”

“You better be miss second-date.” You giggled but didn’t respond, turning back to draw him. It was quiet for a few moments, your pencil tracing along the paper.

He shifted, at which you glared up at him, “I told you you’d get bored.”

With a chuckle he said, “I’m not bored. I get to look at you while you draw, it’s far from boring.” You tried to look annoyed at him but failed miserably at his flattering words. “I was thinking though, since it’s my picture and all, I should get to make some executive decisions.”

You scoffed, “you chose your pose, what else would you like oh great model Colson?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, stretching his arm out to set his glass on the table. “Well, I mentioned that I have some tattoos,” he reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up, “you should draw them.”

Once his shirt was fully removed from his body, you couldn’t help but gawk just a little. His entire chest was covered in ink, designs beautifully engraved into his skin. “I was gonna make a joke about this only being our first date but holy shit, these are beautiful.”

He blushed, looking down shyly, ”I was honestly scared you weren’t gonna like them.”

You looked at him with wide eyes, “Seriously? This is so cool. I’m an artist, you really think I’m not gonna like tattoos? Its an art form in itself.”

Colson shrugged, moving back to his pose, expecting you to continue your drawing. Instead, your eyes wandered his torso, taking in every detail of the work. “If you’re lucky,” he commented slyly, “one day I might show you all of them.”

You rolled your eyes with a scoff, moving back into drawing position, “you think you’re so cool.”

A breathy laugh fell from his lips, “I do, actually.”

The two of you continued banter-laced conversation while you drew him, his likeness coming to life on your page. At some point it turned into 3 am, and you were struggling to keep your eyes opened, but you were finished.

“Here.” You turned the book to him, letting him take in your work. He didn’t speak for a few moments, causing worry to build in you. “I mean, it’s no Mona Lisa but-“

“That is fucking amazing.” He cut you off with a wide smile, “you make me look hot.”

You rolled your eyes with a grin, “I’m not going to feed your ego by saying something super lame like “that’s just what you look like,” but I’m glad you like it.” He chuckled at your response, climbing off of the chair to stand in front of you.

“Damn, I was really hoping to get my ego fed tonight.” He grabbed the sketchbook from you and threw it onto the couch next to you before grabbing your hands and pulling you up to stand.

You smiled to yourself, chest shaking with silent laughter, “does the sketch not feed it enough?”

He shook his head, “I need the approval of a really pretty girl to satisfy its hunger.”

Rolling your eyes, you leaned up into him, “you gotta work harder than that, Rockstar.” Your words came out breathy against his lips as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

His mouth connected to yours, the kiss deep and passionate. His soft lips meshed perfectly with yours, his hands pulling you up to stand on your tiptoes. Once you pulled away you stayed close to him, breathing in his intoxicating scent. He whispered, “I never thought a blind date could turn out so well.”

Rejected Heroes Club CH2 (Adrinette Zine)

I got kinda busy yesterday, and I was out of town, so here is chapter 2 of my @adrienettezine fic. If you’re impatient, you can read the entire work right now in the full zine as well as a ton of other really awesome fics ;) Chapter 3 will be posted this Wednesday. 

Read on AO3

Chapter 2

A breath passed Marinette’s lips as the last picture from her wall landed in a bright pink box. She trailed her fingers along the rim, staring down at the pile of photos smiling back at her. Adrien was coming over to be measured for his hero costume, and even though he knew she kept them up, something about having him around all of them made her nervous. 

She closed the lid on the box and moved it to the chest beside her chaise-lounge, stacking it neatly atop several others just like it, and found herself reaching for the Miracle Box. It felt different. Foreign. Wrong. Wayzz and Tikki assured her that Master Fu had always intended to make her the next guardian, but she never imagined the price that came with it. 

“Marinette! You have a visitor,” her mom called up the stairs, and Marinette tucked the box back into its hiding place and shut the lid. 

Her allies might have been taken from her, but she could still be a guardian to them through this club. She could still give them hope. After everything that happened, she was in need of some herself.

Grabbing her sketchbook and a tape measure, she braced herself as the wooden stairs creaked until blond hair popped through her trapdoor. His face lit up when he saw her, and she willed her heart into slowing its pace to no avail. 

“Doesn’t your dad have your measurements already? Couldn’t you have just sent them to me?” She asked, and Adrien averted his gaze with a smirk.

“Well, yeah, but this gives me an excuse to get out of the house for a bit,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Besides, I wanted to hang with my new partner for a while.”

She didn’t even try to stop the butterflies in her stomach that time. Why did he have to be so perfect? 

“I guess I can show you what I designed for you,” she said. “I’ve never seen your costume before, so I drew up a few designs. If you don’t like any of them, we could try to work up one that’s close to what your actual costume looked like.”

Adrien looked over her shoulder, standing closer than necessary as she flipped through the pages. His arm brushed hers as he moved to get a better look, green eyes devouring every pencil stroke. Marinette did her best to keep her breaths even, resisting the urge to reach out and trail her fingers through his silky hair.

“These look awesome! They’re way cooler than what I had. Now I kinda feel lame,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“No, no! I’m sure your costume was cute. I mean- I’m sure it was fine,” she said, and he trained those gorgeous eyes on her.

“Thanks,” he said. He sat on her chaise, his countenance deflating. “My costume was probably the only good thing about my time as a hero. I wasn’t exactly successful, so Ladybug ended up picking Luka instead. I feel like I really let her down.”

“I’m sure Ladybug appreciated your help. She wouldn’t have picked you if she didn’t believe in you.” Marinette sat beside him. 

“I guess. I feel like such a failure,” he sighed. “I don’t even deserve to be in this club.”

“No, no!” She waved her hands frantically. “I-I think you do. Maybe this can be your second chance to show the world that you can be a hero too.”

His face softened at that, “Thanks, Marinette. I guess I just really want to do a good job.”

“That already makes you a hero, Adrien.” She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Having superpowers and a mask aren’t what makes someone a hero. Doing the right thing and trying your hardest to help are, and I’m sure Ladybug understands that.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said, shifting his gaze to his feet. “I know you’d probably rather have Luka as your partner, but I hope you’ll settle for me.”

“No! I’m happy that you and I were paired up. Now we can spend more time together,” Marinette said then quickly added, “-helping others! I mean. We can spend time together helping others.”

“Thanks, Marinette,” he said, pulling her in for a hug. “I’m glad we’re friends, and I think Alya was right to pair us up. I really needed to hear that.”

“No biggie,” Marinette said, cheeks hot. “Now, about those measurements.”

***

“The costumes you made turned out really awesome, Marinette,” Adrien said, examining the detail work on his new suit a few days later as his bodyguard drove them home. “Those kids at the library really thought we were superheroes.”

As cute as Aspik’s original suit was, Marinette wasn’t technically supposed to know what it looked like, and once she started designing new versions, she couldn’t stop. Adrien was just too handsome for words, and her brain was running wild with possibilities. Should she use this time to try to get closer to him? What if he didn’t like her? Why did he look so gorgeous in a green mask?

“I’m glad you like it. I was nervous when I designed them because I’ve never seen your suit, but I think it turned out okay,” she said, trailing her fingers along the stitching in the shoulders as an excuse to touch him. 

“You’re really talented, Marinette, or should I say, Multimouse?” He said with a wink. “By the way, you look really cute with your hair up. You should wear it like that more often.”

“Y-You think?” 

“Of course. I think it’s pretty.”

“Not as pretty as you,” she said with a dreamy sigh before snapping herself back down to earth. “I mean, uh, you’re so handsome- I’m just me, and you’re you, and-”

Adrien chuckled at her blundering, seemingly unbothered by the sentiment. The fact that he’d gotten used to her stammering should have been incredibly embarrassing, but somehow it gave her comfort.

“This club was a really good idea. Having heroes to look up to meant a lot to those kids we read to today,” Adrien said. “And I think it means a lot to Alya and the others too.”

“Well, after their identities were exposed, they all seemed so sad, and I was hoping that they’d realize that just because they’ll never get their Miraculouses back, that doesn’t mean they aren’t still heroes,” Marinette said. 

“You did all this just so your friends wouldn’t be sad?” Adrien asked, tilting his head to the side then shaking it. “You really care about everyone. If any of us deserves to be a hero, it’s you.”

“I-I dunno, I just want to help my friends, that’s all. I’m no Ladybug,” she said, waving it away.

“I think you could be Ladybug,” he said, and Marinette held her breath. “I mean Ladybug is smart and kind and always thinking of others. You two are a lot alike—always trying to solve everyone’s problems. I know I’ve said it before, but you really are our everyday Ladybug.”

Marinette relaxed, a smile curling on her lips. “I just always lookout for my friends and the people important to me, and if I can do anything for them, I try my best,” she said with a shrug. “If I can be a hero for them then…that’s enough for me.”

Adrien’s bodyguard slowed to a stop in front of the bakery, and Marinette reached for the door.

“Today was really fun. I think Aspik and Multimouse make a pretty good team,” she said, holding out her fist. 

“Definitely,” Adrien agreed, touching his fist to hers. 

“See you tomorrow at school,” she said, and Adrien nodded.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow…”

Hi my dear 💞

Have been listening to a lot of jazz while drawing lately so I'm back to thinking about jazzy!santana n vb au finntana as if I ever stopped thinking about them lol

Today I'm offering you one of my fav songs: Santana singing I'll be seeing you 🥺🥺🥺 I usually listen to the billie holiday version so that's the one I'm thinking of but I'm sure they're all good, I just really love billie holiday's voice... it's just such a soothing song? And the lyrics..... they make me want to illustrate them but I've been avoiding drawing landscapes 😔 and I had to learn this song (different arrangement tho) so I'm just very attached to it overall

In terms of vb au finntana hcs, I picture this as one of finn's comfort songs? Like it started when they first got into jazz and it was one of Santana's fav songs to sing along to so finn got used to associating it with her, and it's super soothing so if he was having a bad day he would find her and she would sing it to him... and then after hs, especially after santana moved to nyc (but also during the brief time she was away for college), they would call each other regularly and one tradition they had was that they would always end the call with santana singing it for him.... it's just so soft snfjsjfks 🥺💞💞 can u tell this au is just full of super self-indulgent concepts hahahah

Also bonus kurtana sketch from my page of vb au furtana doodles bc I love how Kurt's hair turned out! And bc you're awesome and u deserve these lil peeks into my sketchbook 🥰

Have a wonderful day 💖💞

hey angel! 💞

i drove around for a second listening to this n it was a nice calm lil vibe… and the lyrics are lovely, so simple & sweet (i am very reliant on my drive home music to pick up my mood so thank u for this one 💕)

and ohh i love these hcs so much md they make me so soft… them comforting each other over the phone is the sweetest thing i have ever heard 🥺💖💞💗 the way vb au finntana warms my entire heart…. you are welcome to tell me everything ever about them…

also <3 all the best aus are just a collection of self indulgence that’s how it should be!!!!!

and THE SKETCH !!!! so so lovely md 💖💝💗💞💗 i agree kurt’s hair looks so nice you got the shape/lines down!!! the clothes look great too… in love w your art style always :) look at those best friends i love kurtana sm!!!! 💖

(& pls my heart went 💓💓 you are more awesome for showing me <3)

have a wonderful night (or day if you’re already asleep) <3!!!

Ch.1 of my book Anemone Blue! Please read if you’ve got the chance, I could really use the critiques on this. What works? What doesn’t? Hope you enjoy!

Anemone Blue:

A picture is worth a thousand words, but a thousand words will never be worth a photo’s eternity, I thought to myself, imagining I was some great, famous photographer being interviewed. It was true though, my little quote I mean, a memory could be retold forever but slowly be morphed, while a photo has the ability to show you the moment... forever.

1

I couldn’t help but ignore the monotone lecture about summer photos coming from Mr. Aberdale’s mustache hidden mouth, and instead stared at the cemetery across the road, it always seemed like the spirits were calling out for me to watch them through their mossy stones. School was finally almost out for summer, and it was only minutes before the halls were going to become a zoo of students. To pass the time, I decided to take one final, longing look at the classroom around me. Of course it still looked the same, and of course I’d see it all again next year, but it’s different knowing you’ll never be in that exact moment ever again. The leaves would still sway in the humid June heat, the clock would still tick and tock asynchronously, the cream colored walls would still crack and peel, but never again would it be the exact same.

The bell rang, and just like that, my junior year had ended. Everybody pushed, shoved, and stomped their way out every door, ready to inhale that sweet smell of summer freedom, the smell of fresh cut grass and hot air. I eagerly crammed my things into my bag and rushed to join the hallway mosh pit, I made my way down the stairs of the two story school, squirming between classmates, and made my way towards the main lobby. Cycling through what summer things I’d be doing, I was struck with sudden realization, Oh crap! I’ve gotta meet the crew out front for our group picture! I was so tied up in the freedom fever that I had entirely forgotten about my favorite part of the year, the “Forever-Together Photo”. A stupid name sure, but my best friend Clancy came up with it, so it was the sentiment I liked, as well as taking pictures with everyone. It became tradition back in fifth grade, that at the beginning and the end of every school year, all of my friends would all gather together in front of the school and take a group picture together, to capture the memory forever.

I walked through the student infested double doors and made my way toward our usual spot in front of the school’s sign, “Bowy County High School” it read. Halfway there with the sign in sight, I hear a familiar voice call out to me from behind me, “Hey Connor, wait up!” I pause, and turn around to see nothing but a big wig of ginger curls and round spectacles bobbing up and down towards me, “Dude, dude, dude! This summer is going to be so awesome like you don’t even know! Not only is the ‘Galactic Bounty Hunter 3’ movie coming out, I also just got the new ‘Cosmic Crusaders’ comic too, and from what I’ve heard at the comic shop, this time they fight Doctor Shade, and it’s gonna be the fight of the century! Like this fight has literally been hyped up so much!” Clancy Armstrong, my best friend since way back in kindergarten, and I still had never met a nerdier, geekier, nor a more ginger kid than him. Once we finally caught up, I asked if he had any big summer plans, “Yeah, I guess you could say so, that movie is gonna be a pretty cool summer story,” He restated. He then paused in realization, and you could see the lightbulb in his head glow brighter than his red curls,“You should tag along with me to see the movie! Maybe we can even get the whole crew together, I mean I know Paris doesn’t like to openly talk about ‘nerdy’ stuff but I'm sure she’d love it, Taylor can crack jokes, Sarah can do her thing, and you and I can make our signature ‘chocopop’ bucket! What do you say?” His freckled cheeks curled into an excited and eager smile.

Before I could even return a response to him, almost as if on cue, everyone else appeared out of the front double doors and made their way to us. Taylor was prophesying his future while Sarah and Paris only pretended to listen. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m gonna try shooting some more hoops than usual this summer, to practice you know? I’m gonna go pro one day, and when I do, you guys will think I’m the coolest guy around. Nobody’s gonna stop me.” Their only response was a unanimous eye roll followed by a sigh. Taylor Buckley was always talking about sports, himself, and his future, even back when we met. I remember it vaguely, but we were gym partners all of third grade, we got along so great because we both had the same sense of humor, that, “joke about doing some disturbing action, but never actually do it,” kind of humor. He was definitely proficient at basketball all jokes aside, maybe not as good as his egotistical attitude defines, but a good player for sure. He had been playing on the school’s team since sixth grade, the Bowy Bulls, with ‘Bucky the Bull’ as their mascot.

“All you do is play basketball, you know there’s more to life than slapping balls around Taylor.” Paris smuggly crossed her arm and whipped her hair in comedic triumph. Paris Harper was the it girl, she had it all, wits, looks, personality, attitude, you name it, she was like a ‘mary sue’ in real life, I honestly couldn’t believe how perfect she seemed when we first met versus how diverse of a person she actually is now that I’ve known her for some years. “Ohhh wow, you should know a lot about slapping balls Paris, I bet you know the whole football team by last name!” Taylor sneered while Paris flipped her hair again, now in playful disdain. Her hair shimmered like a tree in autumn, with brown leaves layered in gold, like a setting sun.

Of course she’d never do something lewd like that, but with looks like hers, you build a reputation. That was the main reason she started hanging out with our ‘crew’ in the first place, we were the few good people left who didn’t judge her based on rumors, her worst years were freshman year, it was a new rumor every month, getting more heinous each time, it’s a miracle she never moved away. I looked over at Sarah, and like usual, she was nose deep in her sketchbook concocting some sort of new outfit, “What are your plans this summer Sarah?” I asked. Her eyes, bluer than any tide, contrasting her sunshine hair, looked up for just a second in acknowledgement, then shrugging her shoulders, and finally looking back into her little world, “Nothing really, some new drawings and stuff, I might buy some new pencils, but that’s probably about it,” She muttered. Sarah was the quietest of the group, very soft spoken and always minding her own, usually with a pencil in hand. I’d never admit it, but while everyone else had a thing for Paris, I always thought Sarah was just something...better. We met at the beginning of fourth grade, she was “the new girl”, from Maryland. I complimented one of her drawings, which was rightfully deserved, it was a green dragon wrapped around a victorian castle, with each detail of the brick and every scale of the dragon carefully inked onto the page, definitely a talent only learned through practice, you could see the callus on her finger from holding the pen, and i’ve liked her ever since.

The school lot was finally emptying, clear enough to at least have some form of law and order, “Hey, let’s take this picture guys,” I said over my shoulder as I set my tripod in front of the school’s sign, which was newly decorated with some kind of new, blue flowers. They all clustered in front of the sign, shuffling in and out of each other’s way so they could all be seen. Just like the flowers, everyone began to fill in for the photo, Taylor sported and flashed the team’s maroon and yellow jersey like he was representing a gang or trying to make a hit album cover, Sarah quietly held her sketchbook to her chest, while Paris was striking some dramatic pose on top of the ledge. Clancy, with perfect comedic timing, took his place smack in the middle of the sign, laying under the lettering like he’s in front of a romantic fireplace, it was the perfect centerpiece to bring us all together. We all chuckled a little, and I took a peek at them through the camera lens. I only thought about how so much time had passed by already and it felt bittersweet. It felt like it was just yesterday that everyone was at the park with each other, doing what little kids do. Now yet another year has passed, everybody is finding something to do, and everyone is growing up. I couldn’t help but wonder where that left me.

I set the timer and scuffled to an open spot next to Taylor, perfectly completing our quintet with Clancy being the majestic, cheeto-haired centerpiece. After the camera flash, I stumbled to grab it in my half blindness. Once adjusting to the world again, I looked at our masterpiece and thought, this one’s a keeper. A lovely photo complemented with lovely blue flowers, “the picture looks good guys, now what?” I inquired, lifting my head up to see everyone’s expression, as if it would tell me the answers. We all looked at each other, thinking that somehow it would sprout an idea, and like a switched bulb, Clancy perked up and chimed, “Hey, do you guys want to go see the new ‘Galactic Bounty Hunter’ movie? I mean it’s the third one, and I don’t know if you guys even like it, but I’m sure you would and I can fill you in on what happened in the other two on the way there or something. I know the movies inside and out, I’m sure you’ll love it!” I had no problem with seeing the movie, I never really got into the series myself, but I did want to spend some time together as a group. “It seems like a pretty good idea, it comes out in like what, two days?” I asked. Eager with excitement, Clancy piped, “Yeah, it comes out this Friday, if we ask tonight if we can see it, and plan it out tomorrow, we’ll be all set to go on Saturday.” With everyone nodding in half agreement, we all pondered his ‘masterful’ plan. “I’m down to see it, there might be cute girls working concessions or something.” Of course, convince Taylor there would be a cute girl and he’ll do anything. “Like they’d even want your baby face, those girls could probably be your babysitters. I kinda wanna see the movie, but not really, I mainly want to go so I can watch casanova over here get turned down in cold blood. I’m in.” Paris teased Taylor some more, and with the majority of people on board, there was only one left. “Sarah? You wanna go?” Still lost in her little world of art, she let out a soft “yeah, sure”, and kept on drawing, as if it was all she could do.

“Awesome! Let’s meet at the fortress tomorrow around noon and we can plan, this was like, the fastest we’ve ever made plans!” Clancy was more energetic than ever about this plan, which makes sense I guess, we’re probably the closest people to him, so doing something with all of us must mean a lot. “Stop calling it ‘the fortress’ dude, it’s getting kinda lame,” remarked Taylor, though his comment went ignored amongst everyone’s excitement. With big plans underway, we all couldn’t wait to get home, the bike racks were practically calling our name. I couldn’t get the thought of those flowers by the school sign out of my head though, “Hey you guys go on ahead, I’m gonna take a picture real fast,” I told them while I was already headed towards the front sign, almost as if I was being controlled. Everyone else started making their way towards the bike rack, but I couldn’t help but just be infatuated with the color and the presence of those flowers. Their petals looked smoother and softer than any fine silk i’d ever seen, and the shade of blue popped like it had its own spotlight. I creeped in closely, raising my camera ever so gently as to not disturb its photogenic quality... and took the most mediocre photo I had ever seen, can’t win them all.

Hustling my way back to the group before I was left behind, I noticed the sky had become a beautiful purple and pink sunset, perfect for a photo. “Hey Connor, you should totally take a picture of the sky right now, it’s so pretty! It’s probably competition worthy or something!” Clancy kept pointing out the colors of the sky, then pretending to be an overzealous photographer, making frames with his hands and spouting nonsense phrases like ‘ok show me angry’ and ‘oh yes, work it’. I chuckled, but as beautiful as the view was, there was no way a plain old sky photo would make it into a grand gallery, it wouldn’t even make it into a gallery of mediocre photos. Eventually arriving, there sat a neat array of colored bikes neatly lined, many of their colors now a cloudy haze of what they used to be. We said our goodbyes into the night, and donned our “steel horses”, as Clancy jokingly referred to them as, and rode off, into a dimming street; by myself yet again.

2020 Megaman Valentine’s Day Contest - Cat. 1 (Talent) Results!

Thank you to everyone again for your patience! This is getting posted way later than I wanted to. As much as I try to keep it short and sweet, I never do, so bear with my walls of text. 

For the talent category this year, the theme was about killing Mega Man with kindness. More specifically, entrants had to create their own original love/Valentine’s-themed Robot Master or equivalent boss character that was created to defeat Mega Man with the power of love! Even though the theme title and concept alluded more to the classic Robot Master character contests, designs for any series were acceptable. But other than one Navi and one Reploid entry, everyone stuck to a Classic-series themed creation. So you were all pretty consistent! 

There were a total of 16 entries for this category this year. Thank you all for your participation! It was extremely hard to choose winners for this category, because you all had really clever and creative concepts based off of this theme. So thank you for thinking up such clever and cool characters!!

Also thanks to Reploid 21XX for the coloring book prizes and for some additional insight. 

Again, raffle prize winners will be contained in both posts, so keep an eye out between your name and your art. Not all raffle prize winners are contained in this post. I’ll be contacting all winners soon enough, so sit tight! Might be late after work tonight, so don’t panic if you don’t hear from me right after this is posted.

Your category winners and full gallery of entries are right here, after the break:

Category 1 (Talent) -  Dr. Wily’s Greatest Creation: Killing Mega Man With Kindness

[Full Talent Gallery]

1.) @mo-sketchbook​:

*For coming in 1st, mo-sketchbook has won $100 via Paypal, or a prize of their choice up to that value AND a Rockman 7 Coloring Book.*

First and foremost, I appreciate all the effort you put into covering so many aspects of your creation, from the various design viewpoints, weapon get form for Mega Man, and showing the weapon in action. I really loved all the things you integrated into the design to give off the feeling that it is a love-based character. The “love bug” form, cherub-like Heat/Plug-type facial features, and how you utilized hearts in different ways for his design and powers. 

I’m no Keiji Inafune, but I feel like this is a concept he would greenlight, in terms of it following his Robot Master design formula. It doesn’t need to be super detailed or flashy, but still fits the mold very well! The thought of the hearts missing their target and love energy then getting weaker is actually pretty clever, too. Cute, and I wuv it. 

2.) @peachycircuits​:

*For coming in 2nd, peachy has won $50 via Paypal, or a prize of their choice up to that value AND a Rockman 7 Coloring Book*

As usual, on the technical side of things, your art is one of the more polished and clean entries of the bunch. Combining a couple different aspects - swans as a creature known as a symbol of love, bonded for life like in marriage, and turning that into an inseparable pair of Robot Masters, was a clever way to think about your design, in terms of the theme of this category. 

And then echoing that with the iconic Swan Lake, making them ballet dancers, is like taking Tundra Man and Gemini Man’s concept up another notch. Plus, not gonna lie, amused seeing Mega Man getting equipped with a tutu. LOL So even if it’s not as heart-themed as most of the other entries, I totally liked how you thought outside the box a little bit for this. 

3.) Komito Amae:

*For coming in 3rd, Komito has won $25 via Paypal, or a prize of their choice up to that value*

I figured a cupid-styled arrow theme would pop up in a bunch of entries, but your Reploid, Beta, here caught my eye. Both in terms of the hearts, arrows and wings incorporated into her armor, and the pretty sweet looking buster that she and X both have equipped. 

While I’m not sure how it would play out in the game, I think it would be interesting to suddenly take control of random enemies in a stage, and be able to change perspective as them for a short time, after you have shot them. Whether it would be to take out an enemy horde, or perform a task X can’t that the enemy could, it would be different! Can’t see it quite having the same powerful effect on a Maverick boss, but it’s certainly neat to think about how that could work!

And the rest of the wonderful entries, in alphabetical order by alias: 

@autobot-bumblebee​:

*Raffle Prize Winner*  Dreamwave Comics: Issue 4 Page 15

I’m sorry you didn’t win a cash prize this time! Please don’t take me hostage! I totally loved the creative vintage chocolate factory mascot backstory, along with making your entry like an Ariga-styled character sheet page. Certainly get that retro feel with her clothing design. Her rose blade kinda reminds me of other hand-turned-blade-like-weapon characters, such as Alan Gabriel in the Big O or Ed transmuting one in FMA. Which is always a snazzy transformation for a robot!

@drewblossom​:

In all honesty, if I hadn’t placed you in the humor category, I think this would have very likely been somewhere in the top 3 for this category. A cuddly teddy bear with a massive Ariga-Quick Man-sized heart for a chest, extending flailing tube arms, who just wants to hug Mega Man to death is so amusing and awesome of a design. Hugs for everyone!

FluffyFrostyFury:

Your take of heat-seeking arrows and the added high jump powers were certainly a different take compared to the other cupid-styled creations. Definitely would be nice gameplay bonuses when equipped. I like how Mega Man also has the wings sprout out of his head, to mimic Cherub Woman’s pigtails, rather than the usual spot you would assume, on his back. 

HealerCharm:

Hahaha, I love how your creation has caused Mega Man to wave the white flag after falling in love...wait, it isn’t White Day, and he should be giving her a gift if it was! XD Her hair tied up into a heart was a creative touch, much like how her dress flows into all those heart shapes. Adorable!

@inanehipsterslang​:

Um, can...can I count on you to vote for Bernie this election year?

Remember kids, it’s what’s on the inside that counts, looks don’t matter. Everyone deserves love, even those you consider ‘vermin.’ This was certainly an unexpected take on the theme, and gave me a good laugh, too. ‘Boiling-hot water...with a hint of citrus!’ It burns, but it smells so lemony-fresh!! XD But the two different moves fit together well, to protect and attack. 

I like how you still incorporated a heart shape into Rodent Woman’s design with, both in her chest shape and the “nostril” area which is echoed in the Rodent Rover. And also props for giving her the non-armor form, unique compared to other entries. 

Mattasaurs:

On the one hand, your design feels so different for a Robot Master, and maybe more Navi-like. But then I get the Astro/Galaxy-type eye vibe, and sort of a Plant Man~ish body with Devil hands feel, and see how it’d fit into Classic. It’s a unique look, and I liked it the more I inspected it. I really do love the idea of the heart bubble entrapping more and more enemies, and the big ol’ group hug ending up bursting their love bubble. It’s a different concept that stood out!

Minnie:

Our Navi of the bunch combined the love bug and cupid design, but your concept changed up the attack to suck out the energy of it’s target. Which almost made me think she should have an arrow-like mosquito nose, to feast on her target that way. XD I liked your wing shield concept and RiCO-styled skirt of hearts. Rock gets some cool shades in his Love Soul/Cross form, and I get the ProtoSoul vibe, with the shield transferring to his arm as well.

@pstart​:

Another Heat/Plug-type design Share Man looks cute and sleepy, but is also “clumsy and weak.” His ability is to share body parts, so “the danger is in him sharing his less than ideal parts with his opponents.” It’s a totally neat concept, to see Mega Man lose his buster almost by accident, and now be powerless to stop Share Man. His split color scheme drives home the concept that his parts might not all be his own, and sort of a Frankenstein bot at times. Props to that idea!

While his weapon gives Mega Man the power to make enemies docile and sleepy, I really almost want to see Mega Man get dumb parts of enemies, too! Helmet switched to a Met helmet, Batton wings, a big Suzy eye! It’s now I’ve got your power...but...but what am I supposed to do with it? XD

RetroNinjin:

Unlike most others, your entry pushed the heart theme heavily in her armor design around the entire head and shoulder parts, so I definitely felt the love vibe. The color scheme fits well. Just would have liked to have had seen a little more information about her attack and concept.

RoninApprentice:

Mega Man having a “Wing Man” to set him up is a hilarious and clever idea! I give you kudos for thinking outside the box a bit on your concept and theme here. The shipping chart certainly drives the idea home, too. You still give him a classy/formal look, and keep the wing man aviation origin apparent in his attack style. Certainly a different idea having the heart bowtie transfer to Rock’s helmet in the form change, but it really doesn’t look that bad there, opposed to around his neck like it would be normally.

@star-crossed-swords​:

Different from the other cupid concepts, Eros Woman utilizes a Search-Man like targeting system to hit her targets. I like the heart scope addition over her and Rock’s eye when they go into firing mode. You took a different approach to the wing concept compared to others, echoing Cinnamon’s hairstyle in many respects. But it certainly fits with the rest of her design nicely, and looks good for Mega Man’s equipped form.

@star-shaped-soul:

Love that you were able to both include a drawing and your own sprite, to mix in with the weapon equip ones. That is one powerful crush Mega Man has on his enemies now! I feel bad for Crush Man with how big and heavy those snare trap hands of his are. This seems like a Robot Master too cute for Wily to design; more like he stole him and added horrible, cruel hands onto him! This is taking a crush on someone to a whole different level! XD

Yuri Kadry:

When equipped with Cupid Man’s power, I like the visor Mega Man gets. I think this is also a clever use of the weapon, having enemies shot attracted to one another, causing them to collide into each other. Well thought out! Love the original sprite art, and he stands out nicely against the pinks and purples in the background. 

ISGYB - One-Shots

This is a follow-up story of one-shots based around my previous story 'I'm So Glad You're Back'. which I will link in below, these one-shots can be read separately but you may also appreciate the story behind them.

‘I’m So Glad You’re Back’

This story will include one-shots of the lives of Natasha and Steve before they were together, after, during the snap and after they brought everyone back.

Also, check out my new masterlist of one-shots based in this same universe!! ---> Oneshot masterlist

------------------------

5 times steve thought about proposing and the 1 time he did.

1 year after the accords.

The rain falls softly against the little window of the motel they've been staying in for the past few days. The darkness outside soaking up the dim light from the lamp sitting next to steve, making the droplets on the window disappear. If it wasn't for the sound of pitter-patter against the glass you wouldn't even tell it had rained.

The blonde, who had been sat up in bed for over an hour now was carefully pressing his pencil in soft strokes over a page in the back of the small notebook he had now turned into a little book of sketches instead. Next to him laid the woman he loved, lost in sleep for the first time in days. Natasha is laid on the right side of the small double bed on her left side facing him, her left hand under her head and the right splayed out next to her face.

Now and then steve would look up from his little sketchbook and steal a stare at the spy that stole his heart. But the time he spent in-between those glances, steve drew. And it was as if he drew without realising what it was he was drawing until he was finished and lifted his head from the angle of looking down and looked upon the pencil markings on the page. 

It was a ring. 

Steve drew a ring. And not just any, from the depth of his memory steve had drawn a ring that looked exactly like the one his mother wore. 3 diamonds all next to each other, the middle one bigger than the other two and encased in a silver band with little markings and detail surrounding them. 

Taking in the sight of the drawing, steve also took in a deep breath. His eyes never leaving the paper until he heard a sound to the right of him. Natasha had moved slightly in her sleep, causing her to roll over onto her back. For a second, steve let himself think of seeing this every morning for the rest of his life. Falling asleep and waking up next to Natasha every day and night. 

He imagines what it would be like to marry her. To see a ring that means so much to him on her finger, forever binding them together. Steve knew there was no one else for him. It had always been her. And it always will be. And now that they were finally together after years of bad timing he couldn't stomach the thought of being apart from her ever again. But he wouldn't ask her. Not this soon. Officially they had only been together for nearly 3 months. The accords and the berlin fight nearly a whole year ago now. He didn't know how long they would be on the run for or if they would even stop but he knew that one day he would ask. But now wasn't the right time for either of them. It had only been 3 months and steve knew if he did ask it would scare her. 

So with one last glance at the page, steve ran his thumb over the page and closed the book, leaning over the edge of the bed to slip it back into his go-bag next to the bed. Once sitting upright again, steve twisted his torso and reached over for the dim lamp stood on his bedside table and turned it off, the room fully being immersed into darkness with the sound of rain slowly lightening up.

Shifting his body down the bed, steve stopped once his head finally met the pillow and he carefully manoeuvred the duvet over him properly. But then another whimper came from Natasha's lips, her head turning slightly as she tossed in bed. Steve knew by now that the small whimpers and sound she made, the little movements were nothing like when she had her bad nightmares, just bad memories or thoughts that showed up in her sleep. So steve pushed himself closer to Natasha, lying himself on his side and he curled up against her, his left arm slowly snaked under her head cushioning her with himself and his right arm rested on her side, curling all the way around until his hand is over her stomach, pulling her closer to him until her back meets his front. Once he's closed the distance between them, his spy now safely nestled in his embrace, the little whimpers and movements become slower and quieter, slowly disappearing from her dreams. Once satisfied with his efforts to calm her in her sleep, steve rests his head behind her, the smell of her hair in his nostrils as he finally succumbs to sleep, holding the love of his life in arms and imagining what it would be like to marry Natasha and spend the rest of their lives together and hoping one day, maybe he could get the ring he drew made for her, so she could keep it forever.

2.1 year together.

It's weird to think it has been a whole year since they ended up together. They didn't spend it like how other couples did. Instead, they had been on the run from the government and in hiding from 117 countries. But that small set back didn't stop them. And it certainly made sam even happier to have his 2 best friends end up together too, not only because he had been rooting for them since the start but also because he's been able to have his own bed for the entire year now instead of swapping in and out with steve for who had to sleep on the couch or even having to share the bed with the super-soldier sometimes. 

And coincidently, the same night as their 1st anniversary also happened to end up on a day that they didn't have to do anything but relax. Most of the time they had leads or missions that need to be taken care of but tonight was one of the rare ones where they could do whatever they wanted. And in the light of their anniversary, sam suggested they all go out for drinks to celebrate. Steve was a little hesitant at first, still wary of being caught or seen but was soon convinced by his best friend and girlfriend who were extremely excited by the idea of a night of letting go.

So in a little town inside of Mexico, the three former avengers got ready and found a busy bar, well it was more of a club, but nat and sam knew if they told steve it was a club then he probably wouldn't have gone. But if they were gonna spend time having some fun and not get caught, being surrounded by drunk people dancing was better than a quiet bar.

After a few hours and quite a few drinks, or more than quite a few in sams case, the three headed out to the dance floor, steve was awkward at first, not really knowing how to dance in the way everyone around him was, hell, he had only ever danced with Natasha to slow music like how they did in his day. This was something entirely new to him even if he had been out of the ice for 7 years already. But Natasha was right there for him, smirking at him as she dragged him by his arm closer to her until they were touching chest to chest. She pulled on his arm again, pulling him down slightly until their faces were now touching each other, their lips gently going over each other, barely touching as she teased him. Then, teasing him, even more, she quickly away from him and lifted both her arms to wrap them around his neck. His own hands instinctively placing on her hips as she started to sway them. 

She didn't push for him to dance too wildly, even just in a club with drunk people surrounding them whilst swaying was making him blush to his ears already. But despite the blush colouring him pink, the dozens of young adults all crammed together, smelling of sweat and alcohol as they danced to the hideous rave music, All it took was one look at the woman in his arms and all that went away. The music blurred in his ears and the people around them disappeared from his view. 

Natasha was all he could see. Her eyes were closed as she listened to the music and let it carry her away fro a few minutes. Pretending like she had nothing to worry about or nothing to do the day after, steve could feel her grip around his shoulders and neck and she held onto him, enjoying the feeling of letting go for once. As he gazed upon her face, he couldn't help but just remind himself of the little drawing he had made 9 months earlier when he had been sat in bed with Natasha at his side asleep.

 It had been a while since hed looked at the sketch. But it was in moments like this when he would get totally lost in Natasha that he was reminded of it. If it wasn't for the fact they were in the middle of a club and it smelled like Bio and vodka he would have dropped to his knees right there and then and asked her to marry him in an instant. But she deserved better. And if his mother was keeping an eye on him from the grave she’d probably haunt him for the rest of his life for proposing to his girlfriend in such circumstances. So steve pushed the idea from his mind for now. Just allowing himself to get lost like her. In the music, the dancing, her. 

3.2 months before the Snap.

   It should have been a routine mission like they always were. Well, as routine as being on the run and running illegal missions could be. They were over in Belarus following a lead on some chitauri weapons that had been stolen back in 2012 when they were ambushed. The three avengers had not realised that the arms dealers trying to sell them had known they were coming. So the mission went south, really south. Amidst the fight between the dealers and the trio, one of the alien weapons had been fired, aimed at the ceiling blowing a huge hole into the metal and rock, causing the roof to cave in. the three all ran out of the way and into the corners of the room to find some protection from the falling debris of concrete. But for one of the Avengers, they didn't make it out of the way in time. As the roof fell in, the slabs of rock were falling to fast for Natasha to dodge and run to safety. And eventually, one large piece landed right in front of her, causing her to jump and fall back into another piece of stone just as more debris fell right on top of her, piercing through her lower abdomen and trapping her leg. The blonde let out a cry from the pain. Alerting her teammates to where she was. 

Once the building had stopped falling apart, steve and sam finished off knocking out the remaining dealers and buyers if they weren't already dead from the collapse and then went to dig out Natasha. They found her in the far corner of the warehouse, her whimpers and screams allowing them o find her. Steve rushed as fast as he could towards where his girlfriends were pinned. Quickly lifting tons of stone and rock with ease, relieving the pressure from her leg and stomach, but the piece that had ripped through her skin was still impaled. After removing the weight, the blonde man reached over for Natasha, his hand caressing her cheek and he pulled her face towards his direction to make sure she was okay. Natasha could barely keep conscious at this point, her eyes kept opening and closing until they were shut completely, the weigh of trying to keep them open dragging them down. Steve beckoned for sam to go get the quinjet ready and bring it closer for them. They had kept it a few blocks away but close enough to get to once the fight was over, but since sam had his wings he would get there in no time at all so he could bring it back as fast as he could. 

As the lovers waited for the jet, steve kept his hand pressed against her stomach, applying as much pressure as he could to the wound, where the concrete shred was still stuck in and also talking to her to try and keep her awake. But it was no use, she was already falling into unconsciousness. Sam soon returned with the jet and helped steve get her inside, leaving it on autopilot as they flew to a place they knew would help her and make sure she would get better. Whilst in the jet, they managed to get the shard out but were unsure if any had broken off inside so the two men tried to keep her as stable as possible until they reached Wakanda. 

….

Its been a few hours since they reached the African country of Wakanda. King T'Challa welcomed them with no problem and had already had his sister and the doctors prep to help with Natasha once they arrived. Even with their technology and medical advancements, they still didn't let steve into the room as they worked on her, so instead he waited outside, the procedure hadn't been that long anyway. They had stopped the wound from bleeding and get any last bits of concrete that had broken and sealed up the wound, then pumped her with fluids and healing agent that would regenerate the cells to repair the scar tissue in her body so she wouldn't even be left with a mark after it had healed. It was miraculous what the Wakandan’s could do and how much they were willing to help. 

Once they had finished patching her up, the doctors let him inside, she was laid on the bed in a white gown, with just a pillow beneath her head and a thin blanket on top to keep her covered. It wouldn't be long until she woke but it made her comfortable until then.

Seeing her lying on the bed, her hair splayed out on the pillow, knowing that the reason she was asleep was that she was injured made steves heartache. He knew he shouldn't think of the ‘what ifs’, not when she was absolutely fine, but he couldn't help himself. 

He imagined what would have happened if they didn't have T'Challa on their side. That Natasha could have possibly died without the proper medical treatment she needed. Himself and sam could only do so much. He wished they should have double-checked all their intel before going in with riad, god, he couldn't even think about how he would cope if he ever lost her, he'd be devastated, probably turn himself in to the government and just let them have him. but he knew he couldn't take it back. But at this moment, watching her breath in her sleep relaxed him a little, knowing she was fine. She was safe. And she wouldn't feel a thing when she woke up. 

Reaching over to her face with his hand, steve gently moves his hand to the side of her face to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. His blue eyes scanned over her face one more time before a sudden thought enters his mind once again. That drawing. She still hadn't found it, but he'd never shown her much of his sketchbook anyway. But it crept up in the back of his mind, especially in moments like this. The thought of asking came to him whilst he watched her, she would wake up and he could just blurt it out. He'd known since they were even together that there was no one else for him. But even if it had been over a year, he didn't quite know if she would be ready for him to ask. 

So he decided not too and pushed it into his mind once again. One day hell ask, but it has to be the right moment.

4.1 month before the snap.

This felt familiar. 

Lying in bed, in a low star motel, holding the woman he loved in his arms after a few rounds of sex. 

In fact, this felt even more familiar, since as he held the blonde Russian all he could think about was marrying her. It had been almost a year since he drew that little sketch in the back of his tattered book. And the idea of asking her was getting stronger by the day. 

After their last round of sex, the two curled up in each other embrace and talked their way to sleep, talking about anything and everything that entered their mind in that moment. For Natasha, she was too exhausted to stay awake as long as him and fell asleep not too long ago with his arms wrapped around her back as she laid on top of him with her head on his chest. But Steve, he didn't mind. He got to lay in bed, holding a beautiful woman close to him who he loved. He wouldn't dare move. Natasha was completely out of it and finally relaxed after a few nights of watching their 6.

Turning his head downwards, his eyes landed upon a pile of blonde hair on his chest and a face that it belonged to. She looked perfect. So calm. Like she had no worries in the world. Like it was just the two of them and no one else. 

Then steve starts to think about if they lead a normal life. If they had a normal life they could fall asleep like this all the time, they wouldn't have to run every day with the fear of getting caught and thrown in jail. He could see her beautiful face on his chest every day before carefully leaving her in bed whilst he made her breakfast to bring up for her. He could call her his wife. He could get used to calling her that. She would be his wife and him, her husband. He would finally be someone's husband. And not just anybody but Natasha Romanoff's. They would officially be each other’s . He lets his thoughts consume his mind until he finally falls asleep himself. But his last thought before he does is that he doesn't know how or when but he needs to ask her soon. Whether it be next week or a few days. He's going to ask her. But he needs to find the right moment.

5.When Natasha tells him she's pregnant.

He was an idiot. A big idiot. Here Natasha was trying to tell him she was pregnant and he thought she meant she wanted to expand the house. Yeah, he's an idiot. 

“You’re pregnant? You're really pregnant?” he breath catches in his throat, the full weight of his words caught up to him as he realises what he's actually asking her. And then she nods. 

Steve breathes out a laugh, practically in shock he picks her up at her sides and swings her around in a circle, hugging her close. The redhead laughs at the sudden movement and when he finally puts her down, he kneels on both knees and pulls her closer at her hips, instantly reaching for her shirt to pull it up slightly so he can see her bare stomach. There wasn't anything there and he knew there wouldn't be a bump for a couple more months but just knowing that right now, a baby was growing inside there made him almost pass out.

As he holds her in his hands, steve leans in to kiss her bare skin, just below her belly button. He can feel her fingers start to run through his hair as he does. Once he pulls back he tilts his head back to look up the love of his life. His partner, his spy, the woman who one day would be his wife and all he could do was marvel at her. 

Steve was literally consumed in awe at the woman before him, he always had been. Ever since the moment, he had boosted her of his shield to catch a ride on one of the chitauri's ships all those years ago.

She was amazing. And had given him everything he thought he never even wanted or could even have.

And then, once again, a thought came to his mind. He had just said she would one day be his wife. The drawing. He hadn't seen it since he's been back. Hed almost forgot about it actually. That small drawing of a ring he had sketched so many years ago. 

There was no doubt about it. He needed to ask. But not now. If he asked now, he felt like it would seem like its just because she's pregnant. She deserved better than that. But this was the final push he needed. He already knew he wanted to ask but this just gave him that extra inspiration to do so. 

Looking back at her stomach he gave it another quick kiss before he whispered into her skin.

"I love you so much already.” 

And so began the planning.

Plus 1 - The Proposal

It's been 4 months since Natasha told him she was pregnant. 4months of ideas and plans to propose, all that would fall short or weren't good enough for him or even the wrong timing. But that was kind of their thing. He needed it to be perfect but he couldn't find the right way. 

….

To make things simple. A few days after Natasha had told him she was pregnant, he took James over to tony's to see morgan, but whilst he was there he asked tony to help him. He needed to find a ring maker, to make the exact ring he wanted. And he needed the best. He would laugh at himself when he catches himself thinking.

‘Only the best for my girl’

Tony was more than happy to help, of course, tony had jokingly poked at the new sketch he had made of his mother's ring since it wasn't as extravagant as tony would have picked, but steve quickly gave his explanation about the ring and how it would be a replica of his mothers. Sarah rogers had been buried with her ring since steve hadn't been able to find out what she wanted to do with it when she died. 

But he somehow knew that if his mother was here, or even watching him right now that she would want him to give it to Natasha.

Leaving the sketch with tony, he let the genius handle the arrangements for the ring, which thankfully hadn't been too long. About a month later Once it was done, the soldier took his son over to Tonys once again to get the ring. And it was beautiful, even tony had admitted it was amazing, even for his ‘over the top’ tastes. When hed first glanced at it, steve had stopped breathing for a second. It looked exactly like his moms, it was too breathtaking to describe with words. Natasha would love it. It was just enough. 

……

Its a bit chilly on the mid-December night. Even with the heating running through the house, the two avengers still lie close up against one another, soaking up the warmth from each other. 

They lied in their usual position of steve spooning Natasha from the back and he holds her to his chest and keeps his arm wrapped around her stomach, protecting their unborn child, she had just started to show last month and the bump was quickly getting bigger every day.

At around 2 am, steve is awakened with a poke. His eyes flutter open slightly in confusion, trying to figure out why he was being woken up. And then he feels it again. A little poke in his shoulder. Carefully pulling away from the redhead in his arms steve turned his head and torso around to see the figure stood at the side of the bed. It doesn't take him long to figure out its James in the darkness. 

“Jamie? What are you doing up bud, are you okay?” his voice is a little horse from waking up in the middle of the night but he whispers as best he can. 

“I had a nightmare daddy” James's little voice sounded shaky as he told his father what was wrong. 

Steves eyebrows furrowed for a second at his son's words, immediately worrying about his son. Glancing back at Natasha asleep, he carefully pulled himself from out under her and swung his legs over the bed, gently picking James up at his sides and carrying him on his hips as he stands up.

“How about we get you a glass of warm milk huh? And you can tell me about your nightmare okay bud?”

James snuffles slightly into steves neck as his father carries him out of their room and downstairs but he nods as steves words. 

Once the two boys reach the kitchen, steve sits the young boy on the counter then efforts manoeuvres around the kitchen to pour his son a glass of milk and warm it up for him. After it's done, he passes it to the little blonde and leans against the counter with his arms.

“You wanna tell me about your nightmare?”

“You and mommy died, because of Thanos and me and the baby were left alone and no one was there to save us. Everyone was gone.”

Steves heart almost broke at how sad his son looked. He could see the remnants of tears on his little lashes from where he's been upset. Pushing his arms up, steve stood up to his full height once again and took a few steps towards his sons so they were eye to eye. 

“Oh Jamie, you are not alone. me and mom are not going anywhere, I promise you. Thanos is gone remember? We got rid of his ages ago. You don't have to worry about anything okay? We are never going to leave you or the baby.”

Steve could see in his son's eyes that James felt better already. And the enthusiastic nod that followed confirmed it. Talking the empty glass of milk, steve put it in the sink and picked up his son from the counter once again, holding his to his side. The glass of warm milk must have done the trick because it didn't take a few steps up the stairs before James had fallen flat to sleep against his shoulder. Steve let out a little laugh at the sight, feeling a slightly cold patch on his shoulder now from where James had drooled on him. Shaking his head with a smile, steve carefully tucked James back into his bed, kissed his forehead and left the room, quietly shutting the door.

Taking a few strides across the hall, steve ended right back at his and Natasha's room. It's still dark inside meaning Natasha hadn't woken up since he left, but as he got close to their bed, he could see that shed rolled over in her sleep, so she was on her back, comfortable in the middle of the bed. Her bump was sticking out, the pyjama top she was wearing, which was his by the way, curving around it so you could see it better. Her long hair was all over the pillows, the blonde and red flowing everywhere. She looked beautiful. He would never tire of this. Never. 

As Steve pulled the cover to get back into the bed, he couldn't help but stare at the bump. A baby was growing in there. Their baby. The midwife and doctors had told them at their last appointment that their baby had just started to develop ears, and that they could actually hear both mom and dad and other noises. It had fascinated steve to no end. Even now, as he looked at the bump, he thought about talking to the baby again.

So not to disturb the redhead, steve shifted himself down the bed, until was laid on his stomach to the left of Natasha, just at the same height as the bump. For a few seconds, Steve lets his insecurities get the better of him. He's nervous. Really Nervous. Technically this is his first baby. Yes, he has James, his son. But he missed out on the first years of his life. He wasn't there to witness his first words or steps or even to change his diaper. He had no idea what he was supposed to do with a baby. 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Steve opens his mouth, ready to talk the baby inside Natasha and gently takes his hand to place on top of her bump, careful not to startle or wake the redhead.

“Hey, there baby. I don't know what to say since I've never really talked to you before. But I guess I'm doing that right now aren't I? Your big brother Jamie had a nightmare tonight, about me and your mom. He was afraid he would lose us. I just want you to know, even though you probably have no idea what I'm saying right now since it's all mumbly to you and I probably sounds like an idiot. That I love you so much and so does your mom, we are never going anywhere and we'll never leave either of you. So when you're finally here, you gotta help James remember that, and I'm sure he'll help you too. Your both the most precious things in my life and I guess I'm just a little nervous, to be honest. I just wanna make sure you and James have the best life.” sighing the super-soldier dropped his head, letting himself release his thoughts to the baby. He needed this. Even just a small confession about his worries had made him feel like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“Your such a good dad.”

Natasha soft voice startled him slightly, not having realised she had woken up when he had been talking to her bump. Lifting his head, blue eyes meet green in the dark. Natasha lifted her hand to his face, placing it on his bearded chin she moves her thumb back and forth stroking it and he looked at her lovingly.

She's woken up about halfway through his speech to the baby, she was quite amazed she didn't wake up when Jamie had come into their room, but instead, she woke up listening to the worries of her soldier as he held and spoke to their unborn child. She could get used to this, watching him as he spoke to the bump. After stroking his chin Natasha moved her hand to join his on her stomach, placing it on top of his own and threading their fingers together as they cradle it.

“You don't have to be nervous. You are amazing with James, I know you weren't here when he was a baby but ill soon get you changing diapers to make up for it.” she teased him, her mouth curling in the corner to smirk at him.

Steve lets out a quiet laugh at her jokes and replies.

“Gladly” he knew she was joking but he would do anything if she asked. Everything he didn't get to do with James he wanted to make up for with their baby, steve wanted to be there for everything.

“Don't worry Steve, you'll be amazing. I know it.” her calm words reassured him. Giving her one last smile, steve crawled his way up the bed, hoisting one arm over the top of her and the other hand on the other side, so he was hovering about her, his arms by the side of her. 

Dipping his head down, steve captures her lips into a kiss, her soft lips melding against his own, like instinct for both of them. As he hovers above her he can just feel the swell of her stomach touching his own, Natasha's hands make their way to his face once again, cupping his cheeks and she kissed him. 

After a few seconds, there's a thud. Only small and gentle. But it's there. Pulling away from the kiss, both Natasha and steve looked at each other with confusion and realisation. 

The baby. The baby had just kicked for the first time. 

“Was that-?” Steve asked. 

Smiling at the excitement quickly spreading on his face and the feeling from inside her, Natasha gives him a nod.

“Yeah, I think it was.”

Quickly pushing himself off the top of Natasha, steve crawled down the bed between her legs, stopping once he was at the same level as her bump and placed his large hands over it, completely covering the surface, Natasha also sat herself up, her hands shooting to her stomach and placing them on top of steves to join him in feeling the small movements.

After a few seconds, it happens again. A small kick. Steves's eyes lit up, feeling his child kick for the first time. This was the first time he'd ever felt anything like this, it mesmerised him.

“Oh my god.” He's literally amazed. “That's our baby! Do you think she’ll do it again tomorrow? I can't wait for James to see this.”

“She huh? Don't worry I'm sure he will.”

“Oh no, this one's gonna be a girl I know it.”

And it's in this moment, right here, steve looks up from her stomach and at the woman he was in love with, who's looking down herself waiting to feel the kick of their unborn child once again. Steve decides its perfect. He spent months trying to plan a way to ask her, all of them not being good enough or not what she deserved. But he couldn't take it any longer. 

Pushing himself away from Natasha on the bed, he jumps off and practically runs towards their bathroom, turning the light on while he's inside, letting some light into their bedroom. Natasha just sits waiting curiously as she watched steve runoff. But after a minute he's back, with one hand behind his back and his hair in disarray from rushing. He looks nervous, she can tell. But the hesitance in his eyes soon turns to confidence as he convinces himself to walk towards her. 

As he takes each step he brings himself around her side of the bed, causing Natasha to follow him by turning herself so her legs are swinging off the side to face her soldier. The bump stopping her from leaning too far forward, making its presence known. 

Once their face to face, steve falls to both his knees, bringing him to Natasha’s eye level

“Natasha. I love you. No, I'm in love with you. I love Jamie. I love this baby, I love our life. Everything we have, sometimes I just can't believe it's real.” his words cause her to smile. He always had a thing for romantic speeches but there was something different about this one.

“You're it for me. And I should hope you know that by now. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I want to be able to call you my wife.” green eyes widen ever so slightly.

Sitting on his knees in front of her as she sat on their bed, with only the bathroom as a source of light for her to see, steve pulls his arm from behind his back and reaches it out to her. Uncurling his hand she sees a little black box, a box that looks too small for his large hands. 

Natasha's eyes flicker in recognition of what this little box means. She tried to keep her face from giving her away but she can't help the smile that makes its way to her face as she looks between steve and the little box. 

“This isn't how I planned to do this but it just felt right and I'm sorry if I scared you or you think I'm pressuring you…” he's rambling at this point but Natasha doesn't care, leaning as forward as she could, Natasha grabs steve by his shirt and pulls him to her, capturing his lips into a kiss, and cutting his words off as he falls into a natural rhythm of kissing the woman he loved. Their lips dancing with each other like they had done this all their lives. 

After a few moments, they both pulled away breathlessly, their foreheads leaning against one another as Natasha still grabs his shirt and steve holds the box.

“Yes.” quirking his lips up, steve teases her one last time.

“You didn't even let me ask.”

“Then ask soldier.” 

Correcting his posture properly, steve straightens his back and pulls one knee up to recreate the iconic pose, like tradition. He then pulls out his hand once again, this time opening the box so Natasha could finally see what the box held inside and he takes a deep breath. 

“Natasha Romanoff. You are my life. I can say with all my being that you're my soulmate.”

And then came those famous 4 words. The 4 words he'd thought about saying for years. 4 words that if accepted would make her his for the rest of their lives. 

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes, you idiot.”

Instantly springing up from his kneeling position, steve leans over and kisses her. Their lips meeting in a passionate embrace as they pour their emotions out into the kiss. But then he pulls away, remembering the box in his hand. Looking down he pulls the ring out of the box as his eyes start to get wetter with his emotions and hold it between his fingers, ready to put the small silver ring on her finger as she holds her hand to him. Sliding the ring onto her, her eyes glisten over as she takes in the sight. 

“Steve, It's beautiful.”

“Its a replica of my moms, every time I thought about asking you, it was always this ring I imagined on your finger.”

Natasha is taken aback slightly at his confession, both the fact that it had been specially made for her to look like his mothers and that he's been thinking about asking her for years. 

Steve can see the shock on her face and quickly speaks to reassure her.

“Hey, my mother would be so proud and happy to know you are the woman I'm spending the rest of my life with and she’d be even prouder that you're wearing her ring.”

Tears now dropped from her eyes making streaks on her cheeks at his words. 

“I love you so much,” she tells him. The only words she can release at the moment. She's too taken away to tell him anything else but is all he needs to hear. 

“I love you too Natasha”

Top 10 Personal Favorite Hit Songs from 2005

16 to 17 years old. Finished public highschool, started public university in September. Looking back at 2003-2005 feels like looking at ten years of my life condensed in three. Exhausting.

Also we’re now past the halfway point of these lists! And this is another exceptionally good year for hits.

Disclaimers:

Keep in mind I’m using both the year-end top 100 lists from the US and from France while making these top 10 things. There’s songs in English that charted in my country way higher than they did in their home countries, or even earlier or later, so that might get surprising at times.

Of course there will be stuff in French. We suck. I know. It’s my list. Deal with it.

My musical tastes have always been terrible and I’m not a critic, just a listener and an idiot.

I have sound to color synesthesia which justifies nothing but might explain why I have trouble describing some songs in other terms than visual ones.

So I finished highschool that year. I met my best friend ever in late 2004 and we even had some sort of small crew back then! I had a bit of a crush on her but alas it wasn’t meant to be. I don’t know who invented the term ‘friendzone’ but they got its meaning completely wrong because staying friends basically forever with someone you love can be a fantastic thing. Things weren’t rosy nor perfect that year, of course, and I still was miserable at home, but I’m not sure where I’ll be today without her. She's amazing and she still lives nearby nowadays. Shoutout: if you read this, E., you pretty much saved my life.

I was still making tapes and burning CDs, still using my trusty portable cd player, and always listening to stuff while drawing during recess, sitting in a corner and doodling stuff in my sketchbook on the floor like a weird gangly goblin.

I had already started to buy Rock Mag in August 2004 but it really became my monthly ritual in 2005, and it lasted until autumn 2007. A reliable source of posters to cover my walls. At that point they were almost completely covered with paintings, drawings, torn pages from magazines and posters of Linkin Park, Mylène Farmer, Placebo and Indochine.

I also had a better access to the family computer and was a bit more involved online. Might explain why the number of singles I was buying plummeted.

It’s time once again for some (ok, many) honorable mentions!

Beverly Hills (Weezer) - I don’t even know why I like this but I do.

Bouger Bouger (Magic System) - I never understood why it was cool to make fun of these guys in my country. Their music is so happy and fun.

Holiday (Green Day) - My brother loved that band and listened to it a lot, and I was 100% fine with that.

Wake Me Up When September Ends (Green Day) - See above.

Gabriel (Najoua Belyzel) - That is so-bad-it’s-good at its finest right here.

Candy Shop (50 Cents) - As a sucker for terrible puns (HA, get it?? I’m sorry I’ll get out immediately) I can’t help it, I love this.

Love Generation (Bob Sinclar) - Stay tuned for more of this guy on another list.

Listen to Your Heart (DHT) - The original is better, but it was really nice to hear that again on the radio.

We Be Burnin’ (Sean Paul) - Not my favorite but still damn good.

Bad Day (Daniel Powter) - I even bought the single. What can I say except “relatable”.

All About Us (Tatu) - I bought that single as well. Almost made the list.

Le Bateau Blanc (Karol) - The last cut from the list. Not even kidding at all. I’m still not sure if Keane deserves to be on the list more than this to be honest.

Like it happened previously with Placebo not being elligible at all, it is a complete outrage that Precious by Depeche Mode isn’t elligible for this list. Like, what the f█ck. Playing the Angel was one of the defining albums of the year to me. I’m not even sure it would have topped the list, maybe #2, but it still feels wrong.

There’s another band who’s complete absence from this top feels kinda painful to me, considering how much I loved their new album at the time. Indeed, no single from Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge by My Chemical Romance is elligible for this list, and it feels wrooooong, man. I love I’m not okay and especially Thank You For the Venom, but even Helena would have been nice. Alas, it wasn’t meant to be.

For some unfathomable reason, Get The Party Started (Pink) and, even more unexplainable, Do You Really Want to Hurt Me (Culture Club) recharted in France in 2005 and both made the year-end top 100. The fact they are both elligible but all the stuff mentioned above this paragraph isn’t makes no sense whatsoever.

And now, the actual list!

10 - Everybody’s Changing (Keane)

US: Not on the list / FR: #48

Pretty great even though it’s not my favorite Keane song. That would be Crystal Ball. It’s fantastic and as a person who is scared, above all, by existential horror, the music video is terrifying. Sadly, it’s not elligible for my 2006 list, so Everybody’s Changing will have to be its slightly less good proxy for 2005.

9 - Et Si En Plus Ya Personne (Alain Souchon)

US: Not on the list / FR: #100

This has to be the most borderline non-elligible song ever put on one of my lists. But I’m glad it is still elligible. Remember the song on the 1993 list that I called an “anticapitalist ballad”? Well that’s the same guy. And this time it’s a song about how religion can cause both beautiful things and war, and how “the sky might be empty” because of us. It’s great. Here’s a translation. You’re welcome.

8 - F█ck Them All (Mylène Farmer)

US: Not on the list / FR: #62

Aaaaaaaaand unfortunately for everyone including myself, she’s back. Not her best song by a mile (told you it was all downhill after C’est Une Belle Journée didn’t I), but still pretty damn good, and that music video where she’s destroying bird-like scarecrows is amazing so here’s a bonus gif.

7 - Boulevard of Broken Dreams (Green Day)

US: #7 / FR: Not on the list

My brother LOVED this band and listened to it SO MUCH. And yeah, they were very good and that song might just be my favorite one from them. I don’t have much more to say about it, you all know it already. Let’s move on.

6 - Sugar We’re Going Down (Fall Out Boy)

US: #40 / FR: Not on the list

Again, it feels wrong that both Fall Out Boy AND Panic! at the Disco were elligible for this list but not My Chemical Romance. I was never a fan of these two acts, at all, and their supposed rivalry was kinda hilarious to watch from afar. With a bucket of popcorn. While listening to Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge and nodding sadly, of course.

This is still a great song, mind you.

5 - Feel Good Inc (Gorillaz)

US: #37 / FR: Not on the list (really? wtf happened)

Again, I live with someone who loves Gorillaz, so I claim overexposure.

It’s still #5 on a list based on a very, very good year.

That’s quality for you.

4 - Speed of Sound (Coldplay)

US: #57 / FR: Not on the list

A new chapter in the ascension of Coldplay from “Johannes hates this band” to “this is one of the best mainstream bands we have”. An epic saga, years in the making, and Speed of Sound was basically the last scene of Act One. Not my favorite song from X&Y (that would be Talk), but still really good. Hell, I even bought the single, and goodness knows I wasn’t buying a lot of singles anymore in 2005.

Holy shit, half of these are Benassi Bros garbage. None of them are elligible, though! Dodged a bullet there, didn’t I.

3 - Numb/Encore (JayZ + Linkin Park)

US: #93 / FR: #75

What a blessed mashup. For a few magical months in 2005, all the punk goth kids and the hiphop kids were united under this song’s banner and it felt like world peace had been achieved. It could have pissed off everybody but no! Everyone loved it instead!

“But Johannes, this is just Numb all over again with different lyrics. You can’t keep putting Linkin Park at the top of your lists forever.” Sadly no, I can’t. I know. It’s only #3. Don’t yell at me. Also, the next two songs are genuinely better, at least in my opinion!

2 - Lift Me Up (Moby)

US: Not on the list / FR: #31

I heard this on the radio and bought the album, Hotel, on the grounds that Natural Blues from 2000 was one of my favorite songs ever and than it wouldn’t hurt to actually own an album of that guy after all that time (”all that time” being only five years, but please keep in mind the past three years had felt like ten, and in my mind, they still do ; trauma is one hell of a thing). And a couple of days later that year, we went to Disneyland for my brother’s birthday, and I only had a small bag that could contain my cd player, and the earphones and nothing else. So I could only put one cd in it and that was it.

So I picked Hotel, and I basically retreated inside of it whenever my mother was starting to talk aggressively, which happened a lot in the various queues. So in the end, I listened to that cd a LOT that day and every single time, it would calm me while still being energetic enough to keep me enthusiastic for the various Disneyland rides.

Lift Me Up is energetic but cold, aerial but distant, uplifting but sinister. It was the perfect song for someone who was, at the time, trying to tone down their aggressivity and anger and trying to be masculine but in a softer way, while still staying themselves and not giving up the fight. I absolutely adore this song. It’s perfect.

It instantly joined my list of favorite songs ever that year.

1 - Mr Brightside (The Killers)

US: #16 / FR: Not on the list (this feels so wrong)

If I had to make a top ten of the hits of that entire decade, this would be #2. No debate whatsoever.

Because holy shit.

I was already sold on that band after hearing Somebody Told Me on the radio, which sadly isn’t elligible for this list (I instantly loved it, first because it was catchy as hell, but also because I love the chorus “Well somebody told me you had a boyfriend / Who looked like a girlfriend / That I had in February of last year", because as you already know I tend to be extremely literal minded and my immediate conclusion was “wow you two dated the same trans guy before and after he was out of the closet” and that was highkey relatable and no you can’t change my mind). So I bought the album about two weeks after, mostly blind, because the cd store was playing it and also because Rock Mag said it was great.

That was an understatement. Hot Fuss is one of the best albums of the entire decade and you probably know that already. The first song, Jenny Was a Friend of Mine, floored me right after putting the cd in the player and it felt like the album already reached its peak and there were still 12 tracks after that.

The very next track was Mr. Brightside. And. How do I put this.

There’s like a dozen interpretations possible for this song, and most of them are something like “this guy is so anxious and paranoid he’s gonna break up with this girl because he keeps imagining her cheating with another guy and it might not even be real.”

Now might be a good moment to remind you that at the time, I had a crush on my best friend, and was still firmly in the closet. And this song starts, as everyone knows, with “Coming out of my cage and I've been doing just fine“.

So... yeah. This is the song that accidentally convinced me the closet sucked and did nothing to deter bullies anyway, and that after more than three years of feeling mostly miserable, I should try to be myself and screw the consequences. I know it wasn’t the original intention behind that song. But still.

Godspeed, The Killers. I owe you one, guys.

Next up: Still not able to put Indochine nor Placebo on a list, OP is this close to punching a wall

Two Guys and a Baby: Day 2

Read on AO3, FF.net or under the cut, or read up to 2 chapters ahead as a $1 Patreon patron!

"It probably won't come as a surprise when I say that uncle Tony and I come from a long line of witches and heretics." Ezra shot Crowley an amused look. No, he didn’t seem surprised at all.

Or, Crowley learns a thing or two about his heritage.

Chapter 3 of 20 Ongoing 1865 words Romance/Humor

It was Sunday, and incidentally it was also the first day in years that Crowley woke not from an alarm, but from the rays of sunlight that were cast through his bedroom window. After he had changed Adam into his striped pyjamas and put him to sleep in his portable crib at eight in the evening last night, he himself had spent two more hours sketching at his drawing board before finally calling it a night as well. And so, he managed to wake up of natural causes, five minutes before his alarm was meant to go off.

A pair of gangly legs swung over the side of his bed, and Crowley sauntered into the living room to check on Adam, pulling on a pair of trousers along the way. The boy still slept peacefully, tightly clutching his a vaguely dog-shaped plush animal, which was simply named Dog according to his mums. He gently poked one of the rosy cheeks and pondered briefly what could have become of him, had he found someone nice to settle down with and adopted a child for themselves. The thought only stung more with the realization that he had, in fact, found someone nice to settle down with, but was too much of a coward to say it.

His eye fell on the freshly dusted-off drawing board that stood not too far away from the crib. A few sketches hung, taped to the surface, while others were crumpled up and strewn across the floor. Perhaps it had been too long, perhaps he had lost his touch. Perhaps he simply didn’t know what to do with a historical non-fiction cover. He rather liked minimalism, Swiss graphic design and Bauhaus for their simplicity, but none of that would suit an epic about a witch that blew up an entire town in the seventeenth century. He needed something a little more bombastic. Something he could hide more meaning in than was really necessary. Something—

Knocking at the door derailed his train of thought. Upon realizing that Adam was still sleeping, and Crowley quite liked the boy that way (being low-maintenance and all), the man ran to the door to open it as fast as humanly possible.

“Anathema? What are you doing here?”

A single bushy, yet stylishly plucked eyebrow raised on the girl’s face before her face pulled apart into a wicked grin.

“Just checking if the kid made it through the night.”

Crowley sighed and stepped aside to let her in.

“I’ll have you know, he’s sleeping like a… baby.” He supplied when no sufficient metaphor came to mind.

Anathema crossed the room to peer over the edge of the crib. “Oh, he’s the cutest!” She whispered. “He reminds me of the babe, you know?”

“What babe?”

“The babe with the power.” Anathema smirked.

“No. And by the way, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t wake him up. I was trying to do some thinking.”

“Thinking or overthinking?” Anathema asked carefully. The girl knew him too well for her own good.

“Thinking.” Crowley lied. “Ezra asked me to make a proposal,”

Anathema visibly perked up.

“for his next book cover.”

And she immediately deflated again.

“I mean it, Anathema. I have no idea how to make a cover for a medieval themed book about the most metal witch that ever roamed this Earth.”

Anathema scooped Adam out of his crib and walked over to the drawing board, holding him ever so gently.

“‘The Nice And Accurate Vengeance Of Agnes Nutter, Witch’?” She read aloud.

“That’s the title.” Crowley nodded. “I don’t know why, but that name rings a bell. Like I’ve heard it before.”

His niece looked up at him.

“That’s because you have.” She said as she planted Adam back in her uncle’s arms and started for the flat’s door. “Call Ezra, tell him I’ve got something that’ll make him go weak at the knees when he gets his hands on it. I’ll meet you guys at the bookshop later today.” She said with absolute certainty.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

“Home. I have to beg to mum to let me take something out of the house.”

"So, do you have any idea what Anathema wanted to show me?" Ezra asked from above, standing on a ladder to dust off the tops of his shelves. It was just the three of them. The bookshop was closed for the day, and the two of them had just split a bánh mì between themselves as their lunch.

"Not in the slightest." Crowley said. He was sat in the windowsill beside bookshop's door with Adam in his lap, who held and drank his bottle of formula on his own. Adam was a very capable boy for his age, Crowley noted.

There was a loud ringing as a certain teenager stormed through the shop's front door with a gigantic grocery bag, despite the 'closed' sign being up.

"We're closed." The shopkeeper droned on auto-pilot.

"Hi Anathema."

"Hi Ezra, hi uncle Tony."

Ezra turned to look at the new visitor and smiled before he confidently let himself slide down the ladder.

"My, how you've grown up, miss Device." Ezra beamed. "How long has it been since you first came here? Nine years?"

"Ten, actually." Anathema said. "Uncle Tony still owes me that book he never bought me because you two were too busy talking."

"Does she always hold grudges like this?" Ezra turned to Crowley, who simply said

"Yes."

Meanwhile, Anathema hoisted the grocery bag onto the counter and produced a thick binder. This one, Crowley recognized. It was a genealogy project she had put together for school several years ago.

They both watched in suspense as she scanned the meticulous index before she leafed through, looking for a very specific page.

"It probably won't come as a surprise when I say that uncle Tony and I come from a long line of witches and heretics."

Ezra shot Crowley an amused look. Crowley blushed. No, he didn’t seem surprised at all.

"At some point, I'm pretty sure the Illuminati got involved as well, but without hard evidence I wasn't allowed to include it."

"The point, Anathema." Crowley urged as he willed the redness from his face.

"Right, the point is," Anathema said as she opened the binder, pulled a page from it and held it out to Ezra. "Agnes Nutter was an ancestor of ours."

Ezra turned as white as a sheet, the author took the page from her and read it over. And again. And again. Everything checked out. From the name to the family relations to the date and the cause of death.

"I can't believe my eyes..." He said breathlessly.

Anathema took the office chair from behind the till and put it behind Ezra.

"You're going to want to sit down for this one," She said.

And he did.

“Because here’s the kicker. Agnes wasn't just a witch. She was a prophetess. She had visions of the future and knew she would one day be burned at the stake." Anathema said as she shoved the binder aside and went back to rummaging in the bag. "So, the day before she knew she was to be burned, she sent her most prized possession to her son-in-law's farm a few towns away." The girl pulled something from the bag. It was dark and large, and judging from Anathema's face, it was heavy, too.

"It can't be..." Ezra gasped.

"Oh, but it is." Anathema grinned. "A book containing Agnes Nutter’s spells, visions and memoirs. All handwritten in old-timey English. It was a heirloom granny Ashtoreth left to me when she found out about my fascination with magic and stuff."

“Dear, did you know any of this?” Ezra asked as he spun his chair around to face the other man. The look of curiosity and genuine excitement on his face did something to Crowley’s heart that he would never admit to another living person.

“Again, I had no idea.” He said, holding up his free hand in self-defense. “Except for Anathema's childhood obsession with magic. She made sure everyone knew about that."

“Granny said the book was meant for my eyes only, but I'm giving you special permission to use it in your research.” Anathema smiled proudly.

Ezra stood from his chair and walked over. He snatched a pair of cotton gloves from behind the counter and carefully started to leaf through it.

“Anathema, this is exactly what I needed. This is going to fill in so many blanks, I… I don’t know how to thank you for this.”

“No need to thank me.” She said casually as she stepped around the counter. “Just promise to be careful with it and give it back when you’re done with your book.”

Without another word, Ezra pulled the girl into what looked like a bone-crushing hug while Anathema giggled and patted his back.

“Well, thank you anyway. Have a look around, you can take home any one book you like. You deserve it.”

“I think I will!” Anathema said, clasping her hands together in excitement before shooting her uncle another glare. “That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, by the way.”

With a pout, Crowley wiggled his wallet out of his back pocket.

“Fine, pick out a second book while you’re at it.”

A few hours later, while Adam napped on the sofa in Ezra's apartment, Crowley sat at the desk in the back room, next to the shopkeeper himself, who did his taxes. He rubbed at his forehead in an attempt to remedy an oncoming headache as he scribbled in his sketchbook in the dim, orange light of a single light bulb that hung overhead.

"That was exciting, wasn't it?" Ezra asked. He still had that blissful smile on his face, and Crowley knew it wasn't going away any time soon.

"Yeah," Crowley muttered sarcastically, "nothing more exciting than finding out that you descended from a medieval witch annex prophetess that blew up an entire village and all the people in it."

"Come on, dear, it's quite alright." Ezra said as he placed a hand on Crowley’s shoulder and squeezed in reassurance. "I mean, it happened three hundred years ago. It’s not like anyone could come after you."

A chill ran down his spine from the touch alone. He wanted to tell the other that no, that was exactly the point, but he wasn’t about to have that conversation.

He thought he lucked out with his last name, though. After all, ‘My name is Anthony, but you may call me Crowley’ sounded infinitely cooler than ‘My name is Anthony Nutter’. Or ‘Device’, for that matter. Enough people called him a ‘tool’ as it was.

"How is your drawing coming along?" Ezra asked without looking up from his laptop.

Finally. Something Crowley could technically say something intelligent about. If it were anybody ask him.

"Not as well as I hoped it would. I just don't know where to start. Nothing I come up with seems to suit the theme."

"Well… Maybe just give it time. You're good. I'm absolutely positive you can do it.”

Crowley smiled.

"Glad one of us has that kind of faith in me."

hey can i tell u abt what i Love about Disillusioned so far? *the entire character of Williams* the lil bitch is a manipulative little shit and i love him

Yes, yes, yes!! Will is a manipulative little shit! I love to hate him, y’know? He’s one of my shittiest characters and I love him for that, let me go find a nice good segment of Will Being A Little Shit for you hang on.

Okay this segment is from the very end of Chapter Five, and its like the first time Will becomes majorly important to the plot. I will say, though, Will is the main antagonist for a reason.

Location: Somewhere between Kihiro City and Duskton, California, United States

Time: Monday, September 30, 3:58 PM

William Amadeus Sanders kicked at a rock, watching it almost hit a stray cat near a trashcan. The stone clanged against the can’s metal hull, and the cat scrambled into an alleyway.

He’d rather be on the bus. Unfortunately, some of the football jocks hadn’t taken too kindly to a rumor spreading around the school saying that he’d called the whole team idiots. Granted, the rumor was true, he really had called them all idiots, but did he really deserve to get beat up for it? He was just saying what everyone else was thinking! And they made him miss the bus–now he had to walk home, all the way near Duskton. Good forty-five minutes from the school by car; it was taking forever to walk there. His backpack was all too heavy on his shoulders, and he was nowhere near home all because of a couple of dumb jocks.

His day already wasn’t going well. He’d made a B on his science test, even though all the girls in his class made A’s. He was smarter than that, smarter than them! They were all vapid, constantly drinking their dumb pumpkin spice lattes and talking about what celebrity’s ass was the best or whatever it was girls talked about. Only Alana was different, different enough to be worth talking to. And even she was ignoring him, preferring to hang out with her new friends, or her old friends or anyone but him! They used to be friends, but what was her deal?! She was going to turn out like all the other idiots if she kept at this.

‘Stupid bullies! Stupid school! Why won’t they wisen up, or at least leave me alone!’ Will thought to himself. He was at the bottom of the social hierarchy his school had somehow set up under their teachers’ noses. Even Alana and all of her 'friends’ were a few levels higher than he was! Whenever Brett and the preps or the jocks or anyone got bored, they’d search him out. It was like they had some sort of vendetta against logic and people with high IQ’s. And it’s not like anyone cared to stop them. Teachers would look over and look away, students would gossip and spread air-headed rumors about him and each other. His parents probably thought they had sent him to the best school in the area, but instead he was forced to enter the gates of hell for seven hours a day–if hell was filled with the wicked and the fools.

Will was so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t notice his path until his foot connected with something. The sound of a book cover scraping on the sidewalk jolted him out of his thoughts. He looked down and scoffed, looking at the black leather-bound book and the black pencil near it. This town was full of idiots–now they were throwing away books, perfectly good books. He almost reached for it, but stopped himself.

It was what, sixth grade? He’d seen some anime–Death Note, maybe–about a boy who picked up random black notebooks from the ground and ended up driving himself insane and starting a crime spree that eventually lead to his own death. Some small part of his mind decided to bring this up–how did he know it wouldn’t happen to him? Light was at the top of his classes when it happened, had the highest IQ in the school…

'Don’t be an idiot,’ he thought after a moment’s contemplation. The kids at school were beginning to really get to him. 'That was a fictional TV show! Of course it won’t happen in real life!’ Now determined to prove himself wrong, he reached down and picked up the items.

Almost immediately, he let out a scream. The instant he touched it, the surface seemed to burn through his veins but send a streak of cold down his spine at the same time, pain spreading from his fingertips to his toes. Darkness washed over his vision for a moment–what was going on?! In his panic, he dropped the book… and the pain immediately stopped. He blinked dots from his eyes and looked at the book again.

Had he imagined it? Maybe he was getting tired from all this walking–this was way too far for anyone of his caliber to ever be expected to walk, and he still had a long way to go. Books don’t cause people pain. He’d prove it! He grabbed at the book again, and no pain at all happened. He’d imagined it all along. He snatched up the accompanying pencil–who didn’t need a free pencil–and stood back onto his feet.

Will kept walking, flipping through the book. Turns out, it wasn’t even a notebook Just a sketchbook. It’s pages were crisp, clear, uninterrupted, and just the thickness Alana always liked in her own sketchbooks. It was clearly meant for drawing, not writing–and it was completely empty? Maybe someone dropped it on accident? Too bad for them. Finders keepers; the losers should have kept track of their shit better.

For a brief moment, he considered giving the gift to Alana. It might get her to acknowledge him for more than ten seconds again–maybe she’d date him. But… no. She was getting too air-headed, like the others. Soon she wouldn’t be any fun to be around anyways. Plus… something told him he’d be able to do something grand with this book. Draw something that would woo Alana back to him instead, get her to see things his way, like she used to. Maybe even draw something that would impress the popular kids enough to let him up a few levels, so he could really change how things worked around there. Maybe something better than that…

What he didn’t know was how special–and how wicked–that sketchbook truly was.

And in this moment, Will’s shittiness went up x100.

hi guys. i really don’t feel good.

i started the day off great. i got dressed and took the dogs out for a walk- mom and my brother had said that eve won’t go for walks any more but i couldn’t get her to take the short route. she wanted to go all the way around the block. she was exhausted the rest of the day but it was good to see her wagging her tail and sniffing stuff.

i scanned in all the sketchbook pages and made myself some leftovers for lunch. i was getting the sketchbook pages uploaded when i noticed i had an email from the graduate coordinator. he wanted me to come to his office that afternoon- BUT HE HAD SENT THE EMAIL AT 3:30 PM!

i replied right away anyway and then he called me and told me all that stuff. i panicked for a long time. i still want to die... been thinking about it a lot... i sent an email to my group therapist since she’s already somewhat in on the situation, i wanted to know who i should contact and what kind of paperwork i need to keep my funding and maybe get my grade in stat mech raised. i can’t know that until wednesday though. i don’t know what everyone else got. i’m so terrified that everyone else got a b+ too in a fit of the professor’s “i don’t care any more” attitude since he’s retiring. if that’s the grade he gave everyone else too, then i have no case.

but... i haven’t even taken as many courses as everyone else. my grade average is built off 2 fewer classes than everyone else. they can’t... they can’t. they can’t do this. they can’t kick me out for having a disability.

i know i’m really bad at taking tests. i’m not delusional. but my grades improved! i was doing better! i don’t know what happened in stat mech! i even told the coordinator that i was NOT expecting that grade in the class. but he said it didn’t even matter, he wouldn’t restore my funding even if i did get back over the minimum.

i think that’s illegal...

i couldn’t find any information that backed up what he told me on the university’s web site. 

i tried to draw but i wasn’t really feeling it... eventually i went to dinner with mom to see taylor and her mom. i forgot how much i kinda lowkey hate taylor’s mom. she and my mother were both calling mom’s coworkers “skanky” and then argued with me when i said “that’s an interesting word to use.” 

i wasn’t very engaged with taylor... she offered to hang out with me tomorrow and i said no. then on the way home i asked if she wanted to get brunch. i don’t know if i’ll regret that or not. made the plans and found a restaurant and stuff already. 

i thought about it a lot and i decided i should probably tell mom what’s happening. she might know better who to call about this, and she’s a lot more aggressive than i am. i decided not to tell her tonight because there’s nothing either of us can do right now. i’ll tell her in the morning, i guess. i still haven’t figured out how much of my situation i want to share. she doesn’t know i’m registered with the drc and only taking two courses at a time. she doesn’t know about my, like, crippling test anxiety i guess. i guess it’s that severe. it shot my em grade in the gut and my gpa bled out like it was some kind of action movie. 

my wit isn’t exactly razor sharp today. sorry.

2.99. oh my god. why didn’t they round it up. it’s because i had a .66 in one of my grades there instead of a 2/3. i bet that’s it. should have been a round 3.

i’m retaking classical. they can’t DO this.

when i got home at 8 i started drawing and didn’t stop until 11:30. since my hands get so sweaty and smudge the page i had to work really fast. i finished about an entire page in 3 and a half hours. i REALLY didn’t want to do anything else at all. and i knew i couldn’t sit and think or else i was gonna get too upset to keep a straight face. so i drew a lot.

i’ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow, i guess. i hope my group therapist gets back to me soon... i’d prefer to have her feedback and, like, any idea what to do before i tell mom anything. i can’t just verbally flail at her. i did that when i called the drc. i couldn’t even put a sentence together.

i promised harrison i wouldn’t, but i was seriously considering cleaning up my story notes to put in the comic’s queue... just in case i wasn’t around to tell the story any more, i mean... that way people would at least know what happens next and where the story was going.

isn’t it strange. people live their whole lives, doing stuff, all that time is so full, and then one day it all just... stops. sometimes randomly, for stupid reasons, like a car crash. all that work and time and thought leading up to an abrupt nonsense ending. i made it through everything so far, but... it doesn’t feel like i should have, if this is what was waiting on the other side. i know if my depression stays this bad, i’ll never be able to hold down a full time job... i’ll never be able to support myself... i don’t have any chances left. i don’t understand.

i know in my heart that this is unfair to me. i know that there’s reasons they made this decision, but i also still know that it couldn’t have been a legal decision. the coordinator talked about investments and returns. he told me i wasn’t likely to ever return the amount of investment the school had put in me. he told me i just don’t produce as much as my classmates and so they were cutting me off. 

i don’t think those were the exact words. i was freaking out. i don’t remember exactly what he said. he did use the words “investment” and “returns.” like i’m some kind of money machine. i have depression! when was i EVER going to “produce” as much output as everyone else? i thought that wasn’t the point of school. it’s not supposed to be about... profit margins. it’s supposed to be about physics. i don’t understand.

i’m so... sad and angry. i’m angry at myself. i’m angry with the professor. i’m angry at everyone who ever told me not to worry, i’m angry at the second years who did worse than me grade wise (FAILED classes) and are still there with full support. i’m angry at everyone who told me that there’s no way i could get a b+ on the stat mech test. 

i’m angry at everyone who told me they gave up and then got passing grades better than mine anyway. i’m angry that my classmates didn’t study and i studied for hours for a week straight and got worse grades than them. we were all depressed and burnt out. i’m not angry AT them. i’m really frustrated and i want to blame the administration but i know that i’m going to have to defend myself if i want to make a case for this, and i know that i can’t defend myself because i don’t think i deserve it. and it’ll be REALLY EASY for them to convince me that i’m not worth it. i’m weak... why is this happening to me?

Prompt time! 62. “It’s okay to cry…” solavellan please and thank you?

@bearly-tolerable Thank you for the prompt! 

The sheaf of parchment made a satisfying sound when she crushed it in her fist, a crackling then a crunch.  As it hit the stone floor at her feet, there was a soft scratching, and when it rolled into the other crumpled balls of parchment, there was a hollow whisper.  When she set the cluster of ruined parchment orbs aflame, the sound was like a chorus of leaves on a bonfire before they’d completely dried:  snick, snap, pop.   Fingers of smoke curled into the air as the fire consumed the pieces, and there was nothing left but ash when the flames died.  The fragile sooty remains were smeared under the toe of her boot before she returned to the desk at the center of the rotunda to casually rip another sheet from the leather-bound sketchbook splayed open there.  It collapsed in her fist like all the others and was discarded.  

Each flame that sprang from her fingertips was the barely restrained want of an inferno.  If she were to let herself, she could set fire to the entire rotunda; she would make kindling of the desk and books, bring the scaffolding down, and pile it all on top of the sofa to watch it burn.  A part of her even wanted to scour the fresco from the walls, see the plaster and pigments crack and flake and peel away.  She idly wondered if she would find anything hidden beneath it.  Was the work of art like the artist himself?  Just a carefully crafted facade used to mask cold calculation?  Either way, he deserved a commendation for his skill; how often is it that a painter is so convincing that he finds himself enraptured with his own false reality?

“Ar lath ma, vhenan,” he had said, but only when she stopped him from walking away.  “You are so beautiful,” he had confessed, but only after stripping from her skin the only thing she had left of her clan.  They were things she did and submitted to freely, desirous of his love and willing to forsake her past to make him her future.  After all, what did she have left if not him?  Footsteps on the stairs pulled her out of herself, and she looked up to see Dorian hovering in the archway.  The pinched confusion in his brow eased when she tore another page from the sketchbook, crumpled it, and tossed it to the ground.  His squared shoulder leaned into the arch’s frame as his arms crossed, his features briefly lit by the plume of flame that consumed the pile of scrunched parchment.  

Neither spoke.  Dorian simply watched, and she continued purging her grief with fire, one page at a time.  When at last the leather binding of the book sat empty, she glanced up to find him walking toward her, and as they stood toe to toe, he cupped her face between his hands.  The look in his eyes, the unending acceptance he always showed her said, “It’s okay to cry.”  However, as she leaned into him, pressing her forehead into his chest, he knew by the tension that hardened her when he put his arms around her and the heat the lingered on her fingertips when she gripped his wrists that this was a flame she was not ready to extinguish.

Sixteen: Chapter 1 (S9 Highschool AU) - Gabe

A/N: Hi. My name is Gabe. This is the first fic I’ve ever written. I’m sorry if it’s not that good, I’m used to writing screenplays and stuff with lots of dialogue and little detail. The story will gradually include all S9 queens in a high school setting. The italics symbolize inner thoughts. Bold with a name next to it symbolizes a text message. This chapter will be told from both Shea and Sasha’s POV (at different times.) Also, English is my first language but not my strong suit. I apologize for any technical errors. My blog is @shea-velour, don’t be afraid to send me a message or request. 1300 words, 3 pages.

The shrieking of the school bell startled the young artist. He jolted up from his sketchbook to quickly find numerous pairs of eyes on him. He had been spaced out for the whole period.

“Sasha, don’t even think about leaving today. I’ll see you at my desk. To everyone else: Class is dismissed, have fun this weekend and work. on. your. projects.” The English teacher strained the importance of this assignment to his students before gesturing towards the door.

PROJECTS??!! Sasha thought. He was really gone, as he had heard none of this earlier. He walked up to Mr. Haylock’s desk after everyone else left.

“Sasha…” he began sympathetically “I thought we were finished with this.” He motioned to the hardcover sketch book peeking from Sasha’s satchel bag.

“I’m sorry Mr. Haylock. I had a really good idea that had to be done immediately. I didn’t know it would take the whole period.”

“I won’t call your parents this time because I know how hard good ideas are to come by, plus your parents are probably tired of hearing from me. But don’t do it again. I’m serious, Sasha.”

“Okay… I heard there’s a project?”

“Worth 70% of your grade this quarter, due next Tuesday. Your partner is…….” He glances down at a paper “Jaren Merrell! Boy you got lucky on that one. He’s one of the smartest kids in this place.”

“I’m sorry, who?” The last name had sounded familiar but Sasha’s memory was failing him.

“Shea. Shea Merrell. Literally the only boy cheerleader, you can’t miss him.”

Sasha froze. He felt his cheeks warm. Of course he would get partnered with the hottest and arguably most popular boy in school.

“Sounds fun. I-I gotta get outta here. Ya know, get uh get started and stuff.” Sasha slowly backed away from the desk, stuck in a nervous stupor.

“You’ll probably find him out in the field practicing. Oh! And he grabbed a packet for you already.He seemed ecstatic to have someone with your creativity by his side.”

“Okay Mr. Haylock, I have to go…get that thing…” Sasha replied to his teacher’s over enthusiastic dialogue. He nearly ran into the door in the way out, lost in his thoughts.

Time to go find Shea, I guess. Or I could just go home…No. It’s the weekend. If I don’t get it now, I’ll have to wait until Monday and then I’ll only have one day to finish my half.

He sighed, pushing through the school’s exit doors. The sun was brilliant and shining in his face, probably reflecting off his bald head, too. He looked up to the sky, using his hand as a visor.

“Sun goddess what I have done to deserve this horrible treatment?” He whined under his breath.

“Don’t quote me, but I’m 98% sure that’s not how nature works.” A familiar voice came from beside him. He glanced over to see who it was.

Shit. Shea. Act natural.

“Oh really?” Sasha replied shakily.

“Yeah maybe if you weren’t always drawing monsters in class, you’d learn something.” Shea retorted effortlessly.

How does he know what I draw?

“Anyways, here’s your packet. It has all the instructions at the top, a copy of my notes and my number at the top. Text me if you run into any issues. Gotta run, talk later?” Shea jogged away, not needing an answer.

_

While Sasha wandered back home to Brooklyn, Shea attended cheer practice with the girls.

“Alright Glamazons, you’re looking great, we’ll regroup in 5 for final words.” Coach Matthews shouted.

As if it were rehearsed, the group broke off into their cliques. After retrieving his water bottle from the sidelines, Shea walked over to join his best friends on the bleachers. Aja, the cheer team captain, was regurgitating some gossip from earlier in the day. It must be juicy. Farrah and Valentina are locked into the story. Well, Valentina’s eyes were always on Aja. Young love, so beautiful, right?

“Girl you over here spilling alllll the tea. What’s up?” Shea asked as she approached the group.

“I’m telling them about that in-sane argument Trinity and Eureka had at lunch earlier. Remember the look on her face when Trinity stood up?” Aja responds

“BITCH I WAS SHOOK! She was all “you’re done because I’m gonna tell you why you’re done!” Biiiiiitch I can’t with these pageant girls. I thought they were gonna fight!” Shea nearly screams

“Not over that kid though. What’s his name, the weird one sitting between them?” Aja snapped her fingers trying to think.

“His name is Sasha and he’s not /that/ weird.” Shea says, all too quickly.

“Girl why you getting defensive?” Farrah jumps in.

“Because he likes him, duh.” Valentina says, staring at the group as if it were obvious. Shea cuts her eyes at the Latina.

How did she know?

“GAG! You think the gothy art nerd is cute?” Aja says, too loud. Their group is getting looks from the others.

“Alright girls, come circle.” Coach Matthews screams into a bullhorn, interrupting everyone’s shady murmurs and animated gossiping. 

Walking back, the group continues their conversation.

“He’s not a nerd, and yes I think he’s very cute.” Shea begins, trying to diffuse the energy, “I gave him my number but said it was for our project.” I hope he texts me. He thinks, leaving it out from his previous statement to avoid more judgement.

“Aw that’s so cute!” Farrah gushed. She’s a sucker for anything ‘love.’ Her relationship with the school’s baseball and theater star, Alex, was everything everyone had wanted. They had the longest running relationship in the whole school, starting freshman year and continuing all the way until now, their junior year. You could very well say Farrah is the love expert.

_

Meanwhile back in Bushwick, Brooklyn, Sasha stares emptily at his project packet. Shea’s notes were well organized and his handwriting was neat but they still offered him no insight as to what in the entire fuck he is supposed to do. Flipping back to the front, he noticed a blue sticky note stuck to the top.

Shea’s number. Right.

Without thinking, he reaches for his phone and taps in the ten digits and a short message.

Sasha Steinberg: Hi Shea, this is Sasha. I’m VERY confused about this project

He pauses, stares at the text, prereading it and decides to add ‘lol’ to the end to minimize awkwardness. He gives his device another hard look and decides not to send the message.

“I’m so stupid!” He sighed as he throws his body backwards into his bed. Why am I even bothering trying to be friends? He’s so out of my league.

“Hey buddy. You alright?” His dad’s bassy voiced boomed through the closed door, alarming him. He jolted up, throwing the phone from his chest and onto his lap.

“Yeah, just fine. Homewo–” his voice cut off by a whooshing noise from his phone. He froze.

Quickly flipping it over, he realizes his message sent.

And I just ruined my fucking life oh my god. What. Did. I. Just. Do. Unsend!!! Why don’t phones have this feature???

Sasha was freaking out, his anxiety in full effect.

He’s gonna think I’m so stupid.

The young boy threw his body back onto the bed, this time landing face first into his pillow. This weekend was going to be terrible.

Or not.

K.O. | Hoshi | Chapter 3 Normal Days (Open)

He couldn’t sleep. What else was new? Masae would probably be upset with him for staying up all night again, but he just couldn’t help it. His gaze fixed on the pages of his sketchbook, his hand cramped from an entire night’s worth of gripping a pencil. The images of the execution weren’t burned into his mind, because he hadn’t watched. She didn’t deserve that indignity. The sounds, however, couldn’t be avoided, nor could the tangible sense of despair that had been growing thicker and thicker in the air since they’d gotten in here.

14 drawings, by the time he finished. He had started many of them some time ago, but tonight was a night to finish them. Sleep wouldn’t come unless someone cracked him over the head with a pipe, not with how much his mind was working. Finally, finishing the last one, he went to the doors of the other classmates and slipped papers under each and every one of their doors, even those he’d never spoken to. He wasn’t sure why. It was a lot of effort for a lot of strangers. But something in him just wanted to share it, as if he would soon run out of chances to do so. 

Not wanting to return to his room, Hoshi made his way down to the Nexus Lounge, pouring himself a big glass of soda. Before he could even take a sip, however, the artist passed out at the bar. 

Anyone who walked into the Lounge now would see Hoshi, hunched over the bar, nearly full glass of soda next to him, looking mildly uncomfortable but still snoozing quietly. 

Who even cared if someone snuck up on him to kill him, at this point? He wasn’t about to fight back. His life wasn’t worth protecting. 

June 7

You might be a writer if a typo or questionable fact in a book gives you an idea or at least a sparkling thought. I’ve made it up to Disintegration in the updated Listening to The Cure book by Dave Thompson, little recent nuggets from Lol alone have made it worth it. Among the “official” stuff done for promoting Inbetween Days is something called Saturday Night Live.

All logic in this universe dictates it’s some European show because The Cure didn’t do any US TV until the MTV awards with Roger no Lol doing Just Like Heaven. In this universe. 

Because if they aren’t time slips and/or switching then what am I having? (had a brain injury, seeing a neurologist soon, I don’t drive or handle fire) I’m awake and aware and all that.

And quickly looking in to parietal lobe seizures has me wanting to look over some of the paraesthesias I’ve been having and what’s those or sleeping on something wrong. 

Made that first page step with the soft cover Strathmore sketchbook, was half price and the cover already like that. But if you’re ever really stuck name your sketchbook something, this one went with Backpfeifengesicht, and in doing other arting I discovered the perfect first pic. 

Maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t deserve that slap. He’s thinking it over. 

It’s Robert Michael Sheehan and if you know his sass he’s a good choice. He’ll always be my prince sassy pants.

It’s different than Pearl Thompson sass. 

Finally found a second one of those Mead flex note binder things. I’ve been carrying around a black one that’s the equivalent to a 1″, and the triangle hole paper is holding string, been wanting another one and it ended up being 1 1/2″ in purple. 

If you really anxiety over running out of paper when you’re writing in a spiral notebook this is the thing to get as you can flip the cover to the back like a spiral but always replenish with all the 3 hole filler paper it can hold. Just know it likes to eat unreinforced holes. It’s okay if you need to work out drafts and notes quickly but long term stuff get reinforced hole paper. 

My thing the new purple one wants to bother me about right now it the rings are too big. I know it’s just my anxiety hunting for something to anxiety about because my entire life is one long anxiety. 

Like, hey, most of your symptoms, like all the physical pain you’ve been in, it might be something like Fibromyalgia. We might have been able to figure that out years ago except your sister is so busy crying Munchausen’s wolf over a stubbed toe that you’ve been practically bullied in to dismissing your health symptoms. 

I could be on fire but she has a hang nail so that’s more important. 

My biggest concern is what’s happening with my inner sense of balance. I just might need a cane, if so it’ll have a little slutty Dave Gahan riding it or something, or even a walker, but with a seat. But the side I need the cane on is the one with the possible C7 injury :/ 

Oh well. More copying writing notes, more arting, more reading the Listening to the Cure book and writing stuff down from it I might be able to use. 

Gotta believe Lol did do his best to put in his keyboard stuff on Disintegration, the plucked strings in Lullaby sound like him, but Robert made Roger rerecord them. And Lol instigated/demoed what became Homesick. Pull Goff Barbie’s string and he’ll tell you everything.

Love, Ire & Song

Summary: Working on a political radio station when you've not thought about politics since you were 15, entirely by choice I might add, hardly seems a good vocational choice. But then neither does taking on the 1-4am slot when you have work from 9 the next morning so one of the options had to be the more sensible. And so Grantaire, for the sake of Feuilly's health and sanity finds himself filling in on the ABC radio, despite not having a political bone in his body. He has been reliably informed that he has an excellent taste in music however, so he's part of the way there.

Warnings: None

Pairings: None yet

Characters: Grantaire, Feuilly, Bahorel, Jehan 

“Good evening folks! Or should that be good morning? It’s 2am here on ABC radio and all over the UK and you’re here with me, Grantaire. That’s a new name I hear you say, a new and complicated name. So, if that’s too much for your 2am self to handle feel free to call me R. Now that was Paul Simons ‘You can call me Al.’” “But R, you say, over the last bars, this doesn’t tell us who you are and what you’re doing here on ABC radio? Well seeing as you ask I’ll tell you. I just so happen to be the friend of your friends Feuilly and Bahorel, and I also have a chronic inability to sleep before about 4am, and, seeing as I run my own business I don’t have to be up before 12 so here I am. There is only one issue, I’m about as political as a potato, but it’s 2am, none of you care about that stuff at this time. Well, I wouldn’t. If you do give me a call and I’m sure I can rustle something up. Well, that’s the introductions over so let’s get on with the show! I’ve got a host of old classics to take you through till 4 or so, whether you’re ending your day or just starting it.” Grantaire sits back in his seat with a stretch as he starts up the next track, rather enjoying the power he has to play whatever he fancies. He’s sure he probably should have had a track list ready, but he’s had the song stuck in his head all day so he’s taking liberties. Besides, Feuilly said it was next to impossible to find anyone to fill the late slot, so he doubts he’ll get fired. There’s probably no-one listening in anyway. He’ll freely admit working on a political radio show is hardly his thing, he hasn’t been involved in politics since school, in fact he tries to actively avoid it. But Feuilly works the earlier shift in the shop, and he used to cover the post-midnight slot, which had led to lots of napping during his shift, Bahorel installing a bell and quite frankly terrifying dark circles. So when he’d eventually been persuaded to take on a different slot Grantaire had volunteered to take over – ‘but only if I’m not forced to talk politics.’ He sets to work sketching out a new tattoo design for one of his regulars while he waits for the song to end – at least he can be productive and listen to music without his neighbours complaining – but he’s only just flicked the page open when the phone next to him rings. Obviously someone is listening, he thinks as he tries to calm his heart down a little. “Hello, hello! R speaking, how can I help you fellow late-nighter? How about we start with a name.” “Hello, R… I’m Luc.” The man on the phone sounds confused, tired even, as if they’re not used to spending so much time awake. “And what brings you to our airwaves?” “I’ve been a long time listener. I heard ABC were taking on someone new so I thought I might call in to welcome you aboard.” “Oh now you didn’t need to do that, 2am is far too late for courtesy calls.” “Well, I was interested.” Luc sounds slightly put out. Grantaire grins, leaning back in his chair. “Oh, I see. You’re checking up on me.” He teases. “I- I wasn’t.” The man sputters. “Relax would you, I’m teasing. It’s nice to have the company. While you’re here do you have a song request?” “U2, Sunday Bloody Sunday.” Luc says after a pause. “Coming right up.” Grantaire finds it, turning off his mic. “You know I’m not actually checking up on you right?” “Of course I do, but you’re also not a night owl by the sounds of your yawning. I must really intrigue you.” “In as much as you’re new.” “Ouch.” “I didn’t mean that like- I just wanted to see what you were like. And if you’d keep the same tone as the rest.” “Oh… Oh dear, you’ve not come hoping for politics have you?” “On a political radio show, surely not.” Luc’s voice drips in sarcasm and Grantaire has the overwhelming desire to know exactly what his expression looked like at that moment because that’s nearly Bahorel levels of sarcasm. “I’m just here to help Feuilly get some sleep, but if you can provide me with some interesting topics maybe you might draw me in.” Grantaire returns to his sketchbook, beginning to sketch out a stork, wings outstretched, neck reaching as if toward a hidden fish. “I thought you were the one presenting.” “I can’t have all the fun.” Luc snorts. “Goodnight R.”

“Hello, Hello! It’s somewhere around 3am and you’re listening to ABC Radio. This morning you’re with me, Grantaire, because my insomnia knows no bounds and won’t let me sleep until the sun’s up anyway. Seeing as I’m absolutely crap at politics no matter how much my boyfriend tries, and, let’s be honest, if you’re tuning in at this time you’re not so worried about that, we’re skipping over the ABC’s usual shtick. So settle in fellow insomniacs, and those night shift workers, or whatever other reason brings you to these radio waves, we’re in for a couple more hours of rocking tunes interspersed with some of my brilliantly witty commentary and who knows, maybe I’ll fit some late night news in there if you’re lucky. First up for our 3 o’clock session we have Suzanne Vega with Luka.”

“How was your first night on the job?” Feuilly asks as he swings into the back room at lunchtime. His colleague is scanning an image, hopefully for the woman currently trying to persuade Bahorel to dye the ends of his hair – again. She’s a regular, a hair dresser by trade and apparently right now ‘mermaids’ are all the rage, from the brief snippet he caught as he passed through. “It wasn’t half bad, I even had a caller.” “After 2? I never had any.” Feuilly folds his arms. Grantaire grins cheekily, shrugging off his jacket. “I’m pretty sure it was a regular checking in on me, don’t get too jealous. What’s the design?” “We’re adding to her space sleeve.” He gestures to the sketch, Virgo in fine dots beneath an outline of her constellation. “I think she’s putting off getting her elbow done.” “I don’t blame her. I’ve still only got the one done.” “Don’t remind me, I will do the other in your sleep one day.” His unfinished sleeve, classically themed with sweeping clouds and gods, is a bone of contention with his friend. His elbow, reserved for Atlas with his globe, remains stubbornly bare along with the back of his forearm. “You’d never be awake when I finally went to sleep.” Grantaire grins, digging through the fridge for something to eat. “That’s not something to be proud of.” Feuilly reminds him, then shakes his head as he sees what Grantaire’s discovered in his fridge hunt. “Please tell me that’s not your breakfast.” “Says Mr ‘I once had frappuccinos for breakfast for over two weeks’.” Feuilly’s mouth opens, closes again and then twists into a pouty frown. “You know I’m right.” “The difference is I learn from my mistakes.” “Hey, mine has veggies in, it’s balanced!” “You tell yourself that. I, meanwhile, have to get back to my client.” Feuilly waves the stencil at him as he vanishes through the door. Grantaire settles on one of the chairs to eat his find cold, flicking through a home magazine that Bahorel was reading yesterday. There’s only so much staring at pastel yellows and greys and ‘the next big thing’ headlines that you can manage however, and he quickly tires of an article on peonies, throwing the container in the bin and the fork in the vague direction of the sink. “You’re on call for walk ins remember.” Feuilly tells him, without even looking up, as he passes through the shop. How he knows exactly what Grantaire’s plans are he’ll never know, but he spins on his heel and continues walking backwards. “Then send Bahorel out on a recce, I’m only gonna be at Jehan’s.” Feuilly raises an eyebrow. “He won’t complain about the chance to visit.” Feuilly sighs, wiping his needle and his client relaxes just a little, her feet lowering just a tad. “Tell them they still need to get that flower coloured would you?” “Roger. Because your pedantic-ism will never let you leave something unfinished.” Feuilly doesn’t even comment, spinning back on his chair. Grantaire grins cheekily, waving as he sidles out of the door. Jehan’s their next door neighbour, though they’ve been here longer than their tattoo parlour, in fact when Grantaire was thinking of opening his own place they’d been the one who found the retail space, as well as worming in with the landlord to tell him just how good their friend was at being a tenant. Maybe not all true, but he pays rent on time so it’s not all bad. The florist is a contrast to their own shop, narrow and painted in a shade of pale teal, giving a sense of whimsy to the otherwise unassuming window. Grantaire helped with the signs, and to their credit Jehan boosts the attraction of the shop with a tier of plant pots on the pavement. The bell above the door jingles as he walks in, and god knows how Jehan can put up with that every day. Jehan glances up, realises who it is, and returns to their work. “Do I not even deserve a reaction?” “You come round every day.” Jehan points out, trimming the stem of a gerbera and tucking it into an extraordinary orange and purple bouquet. “Come in sporting a flamingo hat and I might pay more attention.” Grantaire grins cheekily and Jehan raises an eyebrow over their work. “Don’t tell me you have a stupid animal hat.” “No, alas. But I’ll bear it in mind for next time. Are you not going to ask me how last night went?” “I know how it went, you’ll have played your wonderfully bizarre collection of music and talked complete bollocks for two-“ “Three.” “Three hours. It was made for you.” They grin. “And I had a caller.” “My oh my, did you get a booty call?” Their green eyes have a wicked glint that tells him they’re smirking, one eyebrow quirked. “Hardly, I think the guy was checking I wasn’t ruining the reputation of his favourite show. Not the start of the most sexy of calls.” “Shame,” they sigh, with more melodrama than strictly needed. “You really could do with a good lay.” “I’m so glad it shows.” Grantaire replies dryly, but he knows Jehan is teasing. To be honest he’s not that bothered by his current lack of love life, sexual or otherwise. He’s always been a bit of a misnomer, being able to count the amount of times he’s actually been attracted to someone on one hand, and the amount of times that’s been actable dwindles further still. He’s always much preferred the intimacy of sexual contact to the act itself, putting him in stark contrast with his old friend. Jehan tucks a strand of mousey hair behind their ear. “Leading me to a proposition. I happen to have some rather excellent weed that’s just begging to be shared. I was thinking you, me, a bowl or two, you can finally design Bahorel’s new piece. I can write…” “Radio, remember.” “I can be quiet.” They tease. “Newbie gets high and stinks the place out on second night doesn’t really rank highly on the employee of the month list does it?” Jehan twists their lips in an exaggerated disappointed pout, looking more than a little like a five year old. “You can tour another night.” “I’d better. And you’d better go before you get Feuilly on your back. He’s more the boss than you.” “He’s actually cut out for it, I’m entirely unsure how I got on before he showed up. He wants you to go back with that flower though.” “I’m waiting on him getting good at watercolours.” Jehan says, rustling around to gather a few flowers together. “So if he hurries up with that…” “I’ll tell him.”” Jehan holds out a bouquet of red blooms. “Another?” “The ones on your counter look sad. And Bahorel will love them anyway.” “Why not deliver them yourself?” “I’m busy, and you’re a good little messenger boy. So run along.” They shoo him. “You didn’t give me a message.” Grantaire points out cheekily. “Then ask if he’s interested in being sociable tonight.” They grin, with a knowing look.

The flowers go down well, and are now sitting pride of place on their reception counter, being lovingly rearranged by Bahorel. To look at him, a rugby guy, short shaved down the side, styled beard, tattoos swirling up his arms, you wouldn’t think flower arranging would be his thing. Grantaire’s pretty sure he’d defect to Jehan’s if he could. He’s also pretty damn sure they’re screwing each other, but that’s neither here nor there. He turns his attention back to the stork he’s etching on his customer’s shoulder. He thinks the guy might be regretting such a complex, coloured in design, but he grits his teeth and keeps quiet. The tattoo parlour was his ever so slightly drunken idea, about three years ago in some fancy too expensive bar with Bahorel. He’d been working in a little place since university, perfectly lovely but he was low on the ladder, still getting mostly simple designs – wings, words, lines. It was great, but frustrating when he knew he could actually design better things, and he only got the chance when Bahorel came in for something new. So he snapped, proposed an idea to the fresh out of uni Bahorel – he studied law, not that he wanted to actually do it, so the idea of a distraction seemed perfect. A shop was found, loans taken out, gradually they decorated with rubbish found in charity shops and donations from Jehan. Feuilly came along after a year, when Grantaire was secure enough to actually think about hiring someone. He’d walked in, presented his designs and by the end of the day he was hired and Bahorel had a new tattoo. The Three Aces – renamed by Bahorel about 6 months ago in a fit of rebranding mania – is an eclectic place. Red walls, a couple of old chesterfield style sofas, more photo frames than the really have room for littering the walls, bearing old designs. Business is steady, it has off days but so does any business, the most important thing is that they keep afloat. His beanie is suddenly lifted from his head, pulling his curls with it before they’re unceremoniously dumped over his eyes. “Oi!” He whips around to find Feuilly adjusting the hat over his loosened ponytail. “I’m off.” “With my hat?” Grantaire raises an eyebrow. Feuilly shrugs in return, hitching his bag back onto this shoulder. “It’s chilly outside.” “It’ll be chillier when I leave!” Grantaire protests. “You live closer.” Feuilly counters. “And the radio station is warmer than my flat. Bigger too.” He adds with a chuckle.