#ALSO ANOTHER THING ABOUT THIS POSSIBLE AU it’s not gonna be like line for line of the og | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs | Tumgik (2025)

thinking about a descendants south park au

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Big Fat Tally Mark

Joel Miller x Female Reader | 1.7k words WARNINGS: 18+ NSFW. Non-outbreak AU, established couple, fem/AFAB reader, dirty talk, pet names, praise, incidental solo play (m), foreplay - oral f receiving, fingering, dirty talk. Joel wears a hollow strap* for PIV: Sometimes this is called a cock enhancer or extender but we know he doesn't need it. on the inside it's like a fleshlight. Written for @dark-scape’s The Tally Chain Fic Event. Please consider donating to the National Network of Abortion Funds or other abortion resources. Also, consider writing a tally fic 💙

You called Joel on the way home from work. "I'm just dying to give you another tally," you purred. All afternoon, a montage of possibilities had played in your head -- sucking his cock, jacking him off, politely requesting an anal cream pie...

“Got a surprise for ya,” he told you.

“Yeah?” you asked.

“Yeah,” Joel said in a sweet voice, then shifted his tone. “A whole lotta cock. Gonna pack ya full of it”

“Be ready when I get home,” you replied.

You and Joel had stored something special in the toy chest, saving it for a rainy day. By this point, you might have forgotten about it, but Joel hadn't, and this was the perfect occasion. The hollow attachment was veiny, close to Joel’s skin tone, and nearly 10”. His own dick, already a more than respectable size, would slide right into it, then he’d fuck you with the massive horsecock.

Armed with a big bottle of lube, the strap, and the attachment, he went to the restroom to put it on. This was top-of-the-line equipment. Not only would it provide enhanced girth for your pleasure, but it would pleasure Joel, too. The inside of it was state-of-the-art material with a patented new design. More realistic as the Fleshlight, it promised, or your money back.

Joel dropped his pants and lubed up his hard cock. He stepped into the harness and loosely fastened it before lining the tip of his dick up with the hollow cock’s entrance. The hole was a slit. Joel held the hollow dildo in one hand and his cock, dripping lube, in the other. He rubbed his tip over the soft little slit, then pushed his tip inside. He sucked in air through his teeth as the cock slid on far faster than he intended. His cock throbbed as he bottomed out.

Joel finished fastening the strap and admired himself in the mirror. The dong was massive, and it looked stiff and swollen like it might burst. At first glance, the size looked a little absurd, but the longer Joel looked at the mirror, it looked like it could feasibly be a part of him.

He held it in his hand, marveling at how his hand struggled to wrap around it. He stood in different poses. He faced the mirror and held it at the base and lazily thrust forward a few times. God, it looked hot, and the interior material felt more like your smooth walls than anything he’d felt in a while.

The idea of your pussy spread around this cock made him hard as a brick. It made him so hard that the phallus began to feel tight. It felt tight in the best way, god it felt good–not as good as the real you, but it almost felt like this thing as sucking him. It was so snug that he had to make sure it wasn’t stuck. With both hands firmly on the attachment, he pulled his hips back and “fffuuuuu,” it was sucking him back in. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure to his taint.

Hre paused to breathe then rocked his hips and felt it pull him in again. “No? Need more?�� Joel muttered under his breath and bottomed out again. He held the attachment firmly and withdrew twice as much shaft. He paused and watched his cock throb with the silicone slit stretched around it. Then he slid back in. “You’re a greedy little thing.” The walls of the attachment hugged his cock.

Jesus Christ, he was gonna cum if he wasn’t careful.

“Almost ready,” you called from the bedroom, making him jump. He hadn’t even realized you were home.

Joel emerged from the bathroom holding his “enhanced” cock in his hand as though it were his own, and you could only say, “Dear God.” You were in a nightgown with no panties. Joel’s steps toward the bed were slow and heavy. You scooted to the edge of the bed to stare that monster cock right in the face.

“Can I taste it before you lube it?” you asked and he held it steady for you.

You could barely stretch your lips around it. You gagged yourself then slid it out of your mouth, drool falling over your chin. You held your jaw and opened wide to try to get rid of the cramp.

“Enough about me,” Joel said. “How’s my sunshine?” He lifted your chin with two fingers, then kissed you, still holding his enormous appendage in his other hand.

“Empty,” you whispered. “So very empty….” you eyed his equipment again.

“Show me how empty,” Joel said.

You turned around facing the bed and leaned over it doggy style. You lifted up your nightgown and Joel let out a low whistle when he saw how wet you were.

“Easy, baby,” he chuckled. “Think I need to warm ya up a little.”

“Well, get to it,” you teased him, crawling onto the bed and turning around. .

He hovered over you, kissed you again, then pulled the straps of your nightgown down so he could make out with your tits. You moaned at his tongue swirling around your nipples. The silicone cock kept grazing you. It was bobbing heavily between you and made your body throb with anticipation. With Joel’s mouth still on your breast, he reached between your open legs and slid his fingers through your slick.

He pushed one, then two fingers into you, and you asked for a third.

“Good girl,” he cooed as he fucked you with three fingers. His digits were coated in your slick. He removed his fingers and you protested “uh!” at the loss. Then he licked your fingers and moaned at the taste.

“Wanna turn over?” he offered.

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” you replied.

With you face down on the bed, Joel adjusted your position for a better angle and kneed your legs open further. He ran his fingers and knuckles through your slick teasingly. He gathered slick with his thumb and began to work your clit. Then, after your first little whine, he spread your pussy wide and ate it from the back.

“MMmm,” he hummed into your cunt as he buried his mouth in your folds and made out with your weeping pussy. There was no better taste. Your hips lifted into his face, and he doubled down, absolutely feasting on your cunt until your thighs were trembling and your body took on the most beautiful shape.

You had barely finished coming, when you breathed, “Fuck me.”

Joel’s face was shiny and pink. “Droolin’, ain’t she,” Joel murmured. “Can’t have enough’a this anyway,” he mumbled then pumped a puddle of lube into his palm and slathered the cock in it.

“You ready for this monster?” Joel asked.

“Mmm-hmm” you whined.

He covered his fingers in lube and worked you open for him again until you were easily taking three of his fat fingers. Then he notched the tip at your wet little hole. “Oh, baby, you really think you can take this big cock?”

“Mmm-hmm.” You tilted your hips.

The cockhead prodded at your entrance and you reached back with both your hands to help spread your cunt around it.

Joel groaned at the sight. “God damn, baby,” he pushed the tip halfway in, and you made yourself comfortable again, taking your hands away.

Joel moved his hips in small pulses, teasing you with the tip until he pushed the tip inside, making you moan with the pressure.

“Good girl,” he praised you. He pressed a little further.

“It’s so—wide,” you marveled.

“Too much?”

“No,” you reassured him.

“How ‘bout a little more?”

You nodded.

He withdrew all but the very tip of the cock and added more lube, then slid halfway in, pushing a low moan out of you. You grabbed a pillow to bite if you needed it, but the stretch was the best part.

When Joel pulled back, your pussy was clinging to the dripping wet silicone, begging for it back, and Joel had half a mind to take a pic.

“Babe, you look—So goddamn hot.”

“Mmm,” you sighed.

He pulled back a little then slid in all he could, gushing, “Gooood giiiirl,” as he gently met your cervix.

“Ohhhh, fuck,” you panted. “I’m full. Fuck, I’m full.”

Joel was breathing heavily. “You took that so good baby.”

He slid halfway out, then packed you full again, and began to fuck you at a slow rhythm.

“Look at you takin’ this goddamn monster cock,” he marveled, and sped up just a little.

“Oh, Joel,” you sighed, with the massive cock fucking you into the mattress.

Joel was holding on for dear life. He wanted it to last, but it was too fucking hot, it felt too good. The soft inner chamber hugged Joel nice and tight, and your cunt made it squeeze him far tighter. The sight alone could’ve made him cum.

“God damn,” he breathed, fully seated in your cunt. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby,” he warned you.

“C’mon, babe,” you encouraged him.

He held onto your hips and his eyes were glued to where your bodies were joined as he thrust a few more times, spreading your body apart, splitting you with this massive girth while you relished in the stretch.

“Ohhh,” he began, then bottomed out and began to pulse. “Oh, god damn,” he breathed. “Damn I love you, baby.” His seed poured into the hollow cock, enrobing his dick in his own warm, sticky mess with each burst.

As Joel began to pull out, you reached under the pillow and turned on a vibrating wand.

Joel quietly chuckled, “attagirl,” and slid back in.

You massaged yourself, feeling stuffed full like never before.

“Ohhh, god,” Joel sighed when you convulsed around his cock.

This thing he was wearing, God– it was a new sensation. And with the beat of your fluttering walls, and the vibration—It felt like even more cum was squeezed out of him with your orgasm.

When you were finished. Joel slowly withdrew from you. He sighed in admiration as your body drew itself back together, like nothing ever happened.

You began to roll over and weakly said, "We've gotta mark the--"

“You just rest, baby, hold on." Joel went and got you a warm rag and helped clean you up, then put a glass of your favorite juice on the nightstand. The whole time, he was still wearing the attachment.

Then he proudly walked over to the whiteboard and drew one big fat tally.

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Thank you for reading!

Also, I truly appreciate your comments. I love knowing what you liked, and your feedback helps it feels more like a community than a stage 💙 ily all, please drink water and rest. 🫶

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hihihihi i literally love ur writing smmmm like i actually need it sb. any time you post ik it’s gonna be peak literature 🙂‍↕️

anyhowwww, i wanted to request an arcane fic with a university au viktor x reader where viktor and reader are like academic rivals or wtv and they’re always bickering but viktor rlly wants to be her friend and doesn’t want to be rivals. sooo he tries like anything he can and as reader eventually warms up to him another guy comes along (maybe jayce or smth idk? or it can just be a random) and becomes their friend like almost instantly and viktor is JEALOUSSSS and envious and just ufhfhhffhhfghhf i need that sb.

it can be nsfw or sfw i literally do not care i just need that plot paired with your writing and ik it’s gonna be an absolute masterpiece.

Hey, love! You know what I'm gonna say, right? Sorry for the long wait. This will have 3 chapters, like for real, not like the other one that now is looking more like 5. I'm gonna say a few things got changed here, because I forgot the essence of the request while writing, but the general message is: Viktor is bad at flirting.

Tightrope - Ch. 1.

viktorxfemale!reader mature (overall explicit), frenemies/academic rivals to lovers, modern university AU

Ch.2. | Ch.3.

word count: 5,9K

tag: #tightrope

summary: You and Viktor are tethering the line between friendship and rivalry, Jayce being one amongst the few common factors you both acknowledge (of course more is there but for the smart people you are, you tend to be very stupid about things). Oh, and you have to do a project together.

author's note: I have a very poor name vocabulary sorry. Here's another Joe, this time he's a dude :v thank you @rennethen for beta reading and bearing through my shit with such grace. One trick pony here we go!

also the artist behind art is here!

Cross-posted onAO3

—

You squint as your eyes scan the list of projects for Heimerdinger’s class. And since the professor is just and fair, like a nice old man who has seen it all, you already know what to expect. But you check anyway.

He wouldn’t pair you—the almost top-of-the-class student, fighting desperately with your feet and elbows to stay there—with someone undeserving. This little annoying thing in the back of your head called hope still glows faintly, last embers about to die as you’ve read through almost all names known to you except for yours.

And as a bucket of cold water gets thrown over the ashen pieces of coal, you find it. And oh—

Of course. Next to it, your least favourite name. Of course, just… great. This is great. This is fine.

The last time you worked together, it ended with a lot of papercuts, pencils flying, and Jayce using notebooks and blackboards as shields—not to mention a tiny explosion because neither of you could agree on proportions.

So, like the responsible classmate you are, you make one final, desperate attempt to convince the nice little man to change your partner. For the sake of public safety and the well-being of everyone who steps foot on Academy grounds.

You are also nice and well-behaved, so even though the door to the classroom is open, you knock on the doorframe before disturbing the professor.

“Ah! I would lie if I said I wasn’t expecting you to show up. Please, come in!” he exclaims, and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes in sheer existential pain. If he already knows what you want, you already know how this is going to go.

Still, you press forward, stepping inside and clasping your hands behind your back in what you hope is a diplomatic stance. “Professor, I was wondering if—by any chance, purely hypothetically—there’s a possibility to switch partners for the project?”

Heimerdinger folds his arms behind his back, looking up at you with the kind of patient amusement that makes you feel like a child asking for extra dessert before finishing dinner. “Ah, yes. I was almost certain you’d ask that,” he says, nodding sagely. “And before you say anything else, I do hope you won’t drop out of my class if I say no.”

You open your mouth, ready to assure him that you would never be so dramatic—except that’s exactly what you were about to say, just in different words.

Before you can recover, Heimerdinger raises a hand and continues. “This project is worth thirty percent of your final mark,” he states, his voice gentle but firm. “I am, of course, aware of the... tension between you and Viktor.” His moustache twitches slightly, betraying a hint of amusement. “However, I must ensure fairness in all assignments. There will be no one riding on someone else’s back in my class.”

You exhale sharply through your nose. “Professor, with all due respect, we nearly set a classroom on fire last time—”

“The most beautiful diamonds,” he interjects, tilting his head with a knowing smile, “are shaped under pressure.”

You stare at him, jaw tight. He stares back, completely at ease.

Fantastic. Just fantastic.

“I—” you gulp on air, searching for words. Finally, a breath of surrender escapes you and you deflate completely, saying only, “Thank you for your time.”

Seeing your sagged chest and fingers grasping the edge of your notebook tightly, Heimerdinger offers you a consolation. “I know I seem ancient to you, child. But trust me when I say, I do remember what it’s like to be young, and a little bit of friendly rivalry can be transformed into something truly groundbreaking. Think Newton and Hooke! Tesla and Edison! Bohr and Einstein! All of them were in quandaries that led to further discoveries!”

While Heimerdinger lists off pairs of rival geniuses, completely different names surface in your mind, unspoken but undeniable. Verlaine and Rimbaud. Love and Cobain. Sid and Nancy. Bonnie and Clyde. You are convinced those are the dynamics that loom over you and Viktor—just without all the feelings, of course.

And if only you were just competitors, like Bohr and Einstein, things would be so much simpler.

From the very first meeting, Viktor had been cold and reserved, his sharp tongue laced with enough venom to wither anyone foolish enough to challenge him. But if there was one thing you had to do to stay afloat in this sea of STEM sausages, it was dare. And challenge.

You still remember that moment vividly. How you almost stumbled when Jayce introduced you—because gods, he was gorgeous. An angular face that looked carved from marble, warm amber eyes framed by a fall of auburn hair. A boy so unfairly pretty that, had you met him a few years earlier, you would have fallen hard.

Your eyes swept him from head to toe before you slipped your hand into his, and for a single, traitorous moment, something fluttered in your chest. A rush of warmth, unexpected and unfamiliar.

Then you blurted out your name with an embarrassing stutter—

And the magic shattered the second Viktor opened his sweet mouth.

"Charmed," he drawled, but the dryness in his voice suggested the opposite. His gaze flicked over you in a quick, assessing glance before he tilted his head towards Jayce. "Is she another one of your projects, or does she actually know what she’s doing?"

The warmth in your chest evaporated instantly, replaced by a sharp spike of irritation.

Oh. Oh. So that’s how this was going to go.

With a weak smile, you thank Professor Heimerdinger, and your mind is so out of it that you almost curtsy—which you hastily disguise as an awkward bow. Nearly stumbling over your own feet, you literally fall out of the classroom, colliding with something big and solid.

“Careful there! Hi, oh—” A surprised voice reaches your ears, followed by a strong arm steadying you. “Hi there. Hi, um. You alright?”

Either he’s a halfwit or completely smitten with you, because his articulation leaves much to be desired. Not that you're one to judge, given your current coordination.

“Hi, sorry. Just a small… miscalculation.” You smile sheepishly and extend your hand out of habit, instinctively introducing yourself to your unexpected saviour. After all, that’s how you met Jayce.

“I’m Joe,” he says in one breath, your much smaller hand completely disappearing in his massive palm. “It’s nice to meet you.” He chuckles, a blush blooming across his cheeks—so unabashed, his eyes glinting—and oh.

Nice, you catch yourself thinking in the most obscene, ludicrous way as you zero in on his chest, the tight team T-shirt clinging to it.

“Eh, it’s nice to meet you too.” You grin, nodding, and blink stupidly, batting your eyelashes, not entirely sure what’s happening.

Before you get a chance to unglue the dumbfounded smile from your face and actually say something more, Jayce’s voice rings through the corridor, your name echoing off the walls.

“There you are! Oops! Making new friends? Don’t mind her, this is her love language.”

Jayce—the oblivious Jayce, a man so naïve it would never cross his mind what he is doing to someone you literally just met thirty seconds ago. Mortification is too weak a word to describe what you feel inside.

“Jayce!” You smack his chest and shake your head in disbelief. “Don’t mind him, he’s an ass.”

And as if poor Joe doesn’t have enough on his plate already, another voice bombards him, and you’re certain he’s beginning to regret ever catching you.

“Hello. Are you a new face in Heimerdinger’s class?” Viktor asks, wearing that redundant smirk, his voice stretching into a deliberate, chewy, gross thing that makes you scowl. Just outright cruel.

“Heh, no, I just happened to catch your friend,” Joe answers without missing a beat. “And… I was hoping I could get her number.”

And that just. Does it.

You nod faster than you think, already reaching for his phone, clumping your number in there with sticky, shaky fingers and a stupid blush creeping up your neck. You avoid Jayce’s and Viktor’s eyes, but oh boy, you can feel both pairs drilling into you almost viscerally. Viktor’s especially—those fucking yellow embers burning right through you from under furrowed brows.

You flash Joe one last smile and a very awkward, very hurried, “Call me,” not knowing what has gotten into you. Then you let Jayce sweep you away toward your usual route to the cafeteria, while Viktor strolls behind, full of graceful disdain.

“So, I saw the tables, and…” Jayce clears his throat, chattering into your ear. “I’ve seen the pairs! We can share a lab, I’m paired with Sky!”

“Yeah, I know.” You sigh and pat his shoulder—a touch saying more than a thousand words. Words that say how much you can’t wait for another round of throwing objects at Viktor, while Jayce scrambles to catch anything that might hurt Sky.

“Oh, are you not happy about the distribution of projects?” Viktor asks, a small smile playing at his lips.

“The project is fine. The distribution… I’m sure you understand.” You throw him an acidic smirk, your eyes empty of any emotion save for one slow blink. Neural Interface for Prosthetics is actually an incredibly good project—Heimerdinger got you there, and you couldn’t be more grateful. Well, maybe you could be just a little more grateful had he paired you with Jayce or Sky.

“Eh, you will forgive me, but I do not.” Viktor pauses and looks at you—challenging you. And you really hate it, because it works. “I do not wish to have the project jeopardized by something silly, as the topic itself aligns with my interests.”

“I’m sure the feeling is mutual, Viktor. Can we please eat? I am about to eat one of you if we don’t go to the cafeteria right now,” you sigh, exasperated, and your stomach growls to support your claim.

“You can eat me!” Jayce lands face down between your bickering, and you just laugh, completely disarmed.

Once you finally sit down, Viktor simply opens a book next to his tray, ignoring both you and Jayce completely—obviously sulking about something. Jayce, on the other hand, takes massive bites of his sandwich, staring at you intensely, as if willing you to spill the tea. When that doesn’t work, he speaks.

“So… who’s the new guy?” he elbows you playfully and you can barely understand him with his mouth full. But his eyes say it all—he is dying to know.

"Jayce, you’re so transparent I almost can’t see you. Where are you, Jayce? Where did you go?" You wave your hands around dramatically. He almost chokes. Viktor scoffs, unimpressed, barely glancing up from his book as he stirs sweetmilk into his coffee.

Once the immediate hazard of death by choking is under control, Jayce flashes one of those earnest grins—one that practically screams what a good person he is, full of pure intentions. "Oh, shut up. He seems nice, and I’m curious."

"He’s just a guy, nothing more," you hum, taking a sip of your coffee. And even though you have no idea if that little encounter will go anywhere, you can’t resist adding a pin. "Yet."

Viktor looks like he is holding back a scoff, so he just turns the page in his book with a violent sweep.

"Well… do you like him?" Jayce presses, oblivious to the tension at the table. He’s just such a gossip girl.

You let out an incredulous laugh. "Are you alright? Why are you so interested?"

Jayce shrugs. "I don’t know, I always thought you’d end up with someone of equal… interests?" Intelligence is what he really means. But that would be cruel. Just because a guy plays rugby doesn’t mean he’s brain damaged. Surely.

"Oh please, I hate STEM bros." You lean back in your chair, crossing your arms with an air of finality, as if that settles the matter. You do hate STEM bros. They are full of themselves, have no respect for women and look down on you.

Jayce raises an eyebrow, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his face. "Erm… you are a STEM bro."

Viktor finally looks up from his book, watching you with the barest flicker of amusement in his eyes.

You gasp, pressing a hand to your chest as if mortally offended. "Jayce Talis! I am a lady! Not a bro!"

That is Viktor’s cue. “I don’t think that lack of testicles classifies you as a lady instantly,” he says in a deadpan voice.

And you don’t know what pushes your stupid mind to say it. Is it just muscle memory—your tongue snapping back whenever you talk to Viktor—or an actual intention to say something mean to him? You really don’t know. In one breath, you say, voice equally dead to his, “Of course not. If that were the case, you’d classify as a lady as well,” and watch the chaos unravel.

None of that happens, though. The underwhelming events carry on in painfully slow motion—Jayce’s eyes widening so much there’s a real threat they might never close again, while Viktor gulps his coffee with an agonisingly slow bob of his Adam’s apple. It’s only when he’s done that you realise he was fighting not to choke on it—because the next moment, he bursts into laughter, covering his face with his hand.

Jayce exhales the breath he was holding and laughs as well—you’re not sure if it’s at your joke or simply at the sight of Viktor laughing so openly, an event so rare it shouldn’t go uncherished. Despite yourself, you grin. Indeed, Viktor’s face—his eyes squeezed shut to the point of a tear slipping from beneath his long lashes, smile lines filling out his hollowed cheeks, his teeth bared in an uninhibited cackle—is a sight to behold.

The stupid thing in your chest stutters, as Viktor wheezes and lowers his hand to rest on yours. “Remind me to never cross you again. Merciless is an understatement,” he says, barely, with a really warm smile and you find yourself blushing again, for the second time in a mere hour. Because of two different boys.

And as any moment made of pure magic in the history of magical moments, this one doesn’t last either. It gets violently interrupted by a buzz of your phone on the table.

If you wanna take a stroll, I have a free period now :) We can meet by the fountain. Joe, in case you wonder who this is :)

And your blush deepens. You calculate options in your mind and soon decide on the what the hell one. “I’m gonna scram boys. See you in the lab after class?”

“Yes. Please bring the less… distracted version of yourself if you can,” Viktor states and all the warmth evaporates from him at once. Back to the usual version of himself—sharp wit, balancing on the verge of cutting.

As you mumble an absent, “I’ll do my best,” and wave them goodbye, Jayce returns to his sandwich and sighs knowingly.

“You know… wouldn’t kill you to be a little bit nicer,” Jayce says, leaning forward on his elbows. His voice is casual, but there’s an edge of curiosity beneath it, like he’s prodding at something fragile just to see if it will break.

“This is me being nice,” Viktor replies in a neutral tone, lifting his coffee to his lips. The steam curls around his face as he takes a slow sip, his expression unmoving. He is being nice. He is trying to be nice. It’s just sometimes completely impossible to be nice to you when you get like this. Distracted. He scoffs to himself. It’s a strange friendship you have there, but it’s a friendship nevertheless—or so he likes to think.

Jayce studies him, his gaze sharp despite the lazy way he’s chewing the inside of his cheek. “No, that is just you being… well, you,” he says bluntly, tilting his head as if he’s considering whether to push further. “Being a dick is not a way to a lady’s heart.”

Viktor arches a brow, unimpressed. “Excuse me, but have we experienced the same scene? I was the one being offended and laughed it off like a gentleman, thank you.” He gestures vaguely with his cup, his fingers tightening just slightly around the ceramic.

Jayce narrows his eyes. “Then why are you so annoyed in the first place?”

“I am not annoyed,” Viktor states flatly, setting his coffee down with a little more force than necessary. He smooths his hands over his sweater as he rises from his seat, already turning away before Jayce can open his mouth again. “I am great. I am so great, in fact, that I will go and start working on that project. See you, Jayce.”

And then he just strides off, his cane tapping against the floor, leaving Jayce mid-sentence with his mouth open, eyes blinking slowly.

Of course, he is not annoyed. Maybe only slightly—and only because you’ve somehow managed to gain another distraction in your life right before you were about to start working on the biggest project of the year. And it’s just, well, fucking annoying.

***

When you glance at your watch, you yelp and press a hand to your forehead. “Fucking hell,” you mutter under your breath before breaking into a sprint toward the lab.

Viktor is going to kill you—especially since there’s no way to prove you were caught up in something important.

Because, well, you weren’t. It was Joe who took up all your time this afternoon. And he is… surprisingly nice. And smart.

You hadn’t expected that.

What started as a casual conversation somehow stretched into something far longer, the minutes slipping away unnoticed. He had opinions on films—actual opinions, not just generic statements about “liking action movies.” He had read some of the same books as you and even suggested a few you begrudgingly admitted sounded interesting. Sports came up, of course, but he spoke about them with a self-awareness that made it bearable. And when the conversation dipped into politics, he didn’t say anything that made you want to throw your coffee in his face. That alone was impressive.

It was… weirdly comfortable. Easy, even. Even when he lingered.

Joe’s gaze held onto you a second longer than necessary, like he was memorising the way you looked when you laughed. And when he hugged you goodbye, his arms stayed around you for just a breath too many. The slow way he untangled himself from you made it clear that if you hadn’t pulled away first, he wouldn’t have been the one to let go.

Shaking off the last remnants of Joe from your thoughts, you push through the heavy lab doors with a hurried stumble, your breath still uneven from the rush.

“Sorry, I’m late, guys—” The words die in your throat as you take in the empty room.

Only Viktor.

He stands at the workbench, sleeves pushed up, hands meticulously adjusting the placement of various tools and notes. At the sound of your voice, he pauses but doesn’t turn around immediately. The rhythmic ticking of the clock fills the silence, marking the seconds you take to process the situation.

No Jayce. No Sky. Just Viktor, and the sharp scent of metal and oil clinging to the air.

“Glad you could make it,” he remarks, finally turning his head just enough to glance at you. His voice is even, but something about it feels... off. You can’t tell if he’s irritated or merely stating a fact. Maybe both.

“Sorry,” you sigh, setting your things down with a thud. “I lost track of time.”

“With your new himbo.” It isn’t a question.

You hesitate for a fraction of a second. “Yes. And his name is Joe, Viktor, not a new himbo.”

Viktor hums—a short, unimpressed sound—and resumes his work, carefully aligning a set of blueprints. Somehow, his silence feels louder than an argument.

“Okay,” you say hesitantly, more to yourself than to him, or rather into the empty space between you and Viktor, which seems to be expanding with each passing second.

“And where are Jayce and Sky?”

“They managed to sketch out the roadmap for themselves in the time you spent with Joe and decided they needed the library for further planning,” Viktor replies flatly, still not looking at you. The way he deliberately keeps his gaze averted only emphasises how much has been accomplished in your presumably very long moment of indulgence. How nice.

“Alright, would you like me to crucify myself, or do you want the honours?” Impatience gets the better of you, and you fold your arms tightly across your chest.

At that, Viktor’s hands still over the workbench. His head tilts ever so slightly in your direction, though his gaze remains fixed on the floor, as if acknowledging you fully would be a waste of effort.

“I am merely stating a fact,” he says, his voice low, clipped. “This is more important than some affairs, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh, really, Viktor?” You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head. “And here I thought thirty percent of my grade was worth sacrificing for some sloppy making out—but thank you so much for finally making me see the error of my ways.”

That makes him look.

And he is angry.

His head snaps up, eyes narrowing, gears visibly grinding in his mind as he weighs whether you’re just riling him up or—God forbid—whether you actually have made out with Joe.

His jaw tightens. “Just get to work already, will you?”

You say nothing, only flash him an acrid smile before reaching for your goggles on the workbench.

The two of you work in almost deafening silence, broken only by the occasional exchange of necessary questions and answers. You retrieve materials while Viktor arranges the workspace, and you scribble down the general plan on the blackboard, the tension in the air palpable.

Each time the chalk screeches against the surface, Viktor visibly winces, hissing under his breath and sinking his head between his shoulders in an exaggerated display of agony.

You roll your eyes but say nothing.

“Could you maybe try a little harder to make it less cacographic?” he mutters, irritation creeping into his voice.

The suddenness of it startles you just as you’re making another stroke, and the chalk lets out a bone-chilling whine against the board.

Viktor flinches violently, covering his ears. “For fuck’s sake,” he grumbles, voice muffled behind his palms. “Let me do it.” He steps forward, reaching for the chalk without hesitation.

You anticipate the move, tucking your arm behind your back in defiance. A childish gesture, maybe, but if he’s going to be an ass about it, you’re not about to make it easy for him.

He doesn’t stop. He closes the distance between you in a few sharp steps, his expression taut with frustration. Before you can react, his fingers wrap around your wrist—tight, unrelenting. He pries your hand forward and gives a firm shake, forcing your fingers to unclench until the chalk drops neatly into his waiting palm.

A sharp twinge shoots up your arm. It’s not painful exactly, but it’s close enough to make you wince.

Snatching your hand back, you massage your wrist, eyes narrowing. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

For a brief second, something flickers across Viktor’s face—regret, maybe. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, buried beneath the same rigid composure he always wears like armour. He doesn’t apologise. Doesn’t even acknowledge it. Instead, he turns to the board and begins writing, his tone stripped of anything resembling warmth.

“I want to wrap this up before tomorrow,” he says flatly, chalk gliding across the surface with sharp, efficient strokes. “And you are being thoroughly incompetent. I told you to bring yourself not distracted.”

You let out a sharp scoff. “Okay, I am so sorry I was late. I’ll stay longer and finish up whatever we don’t get done in time. But you are outdoing yourself in being a complete twat today.”

You don’t wait for a response. Instead, you march over to the workbench, hands immediately finding the prototype components. If you focus on the task, maybe you won’t be tempted to launch something at Viktor’s insufferable head.

“Oh please, I do not trust anything you do without supervision,” Viktor says, scribbling quietly on the board, somehow making a point out of it.

“Viktor, are you serious right now? We literally have the same grades,” you huff, leaning over the table to pick up the components you need. You do your best to tune him out—his bickering is only distracting, and you need to rewire the prototype from the previous project.

Overall, the task is simple enough. The device is built around an EEG-based neural interface—a system that reads electrical activity in the brain and translates it into signals that can control a mechanical limb. In practical terms, the user wears a headband fitted with electrodes that detect neural impulses associated with movement. These signals then travel through a processing unit, which refines the input before transmitting it to the prosthetic itself.

That’s the easy part. The rest, well.

The prototype you’re working on today is a refinement of an earlier model. The previous iteration had suffered from signal lag and inconsistent responsiveness—issues you’re hoping to correct by integrating a new set of circuits and refining the algorithm for noise reduction.

You grab the headband from the pile of equipment, turning it over in your hands. It should work just fine if you tweak the wiring to accommodate the new design. Without thinking too much about it, you start securing the circuits, fingers working on autopilot as you weave the delicate wires through the correct channels.

Or at least, you think they’re correct—until Viktor’s voice cuts through your focus again.

“Are you even listening to me? What are you doing?” His tone is sharp, irritated—like he’s already asked this more than once.

Your expression tightens as he strides over to the bench, clearly unimpressed. “I just rewired it. Nothing too complex,” you mutter, adjusting a loose wire before reaching for the power switch.

Viktor doesn’t look convinced. He picks up the headband, turning it over in his hands with a scrutinising gaze. “Nothing too complex,” he repeats dryly. “Yes, because neural interfaces are famously simple. I’d rather be sure. Show me.”

You roll your eyes but oblige, reaching over and flipping the switch.

The reaction is instant.

A sharp jolt cracks through the air, followed by a strangled, almost undignified yelp as Viktor jerks back, dropping the headband as if it has burned him. His entire body stiffens, fingers twitching violently for a brief second before he stumbles, gripping the workbench for support, blinking rapidly.

Your mouth falls open. “Oh—shit—Viktor—”

He exhales sharply, pressing a hand to his chest, his face twisted in a grimace. “Wonderful,” he grits out. “So that’s what you rewired.”

“God, I’m so sorry,” you mumble, rushing to him, ignoring the sharpness of his tone. Your hands instinctively cup his face as you lean in. He blinks, startled, his mouth parting at the sudden concern—your brows furrowed, eyes searching his face for any sign of lingering pain, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he says flatly. “You’ve electrocuted me.” His hands move to seize your wrists, but you twist away before he can. Your palms return to his face, fingers framing him gently, and Viktor’s breath hitches.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whisper, voice genuine. You are truly sorry, the worry overriding all the anger you had for him mere seconds ago. And Viktor has no idea how to react to this. He stands there, breath unsteady, before muttering, “I’m fine.”

You blink, straightening, and Viktor is almost ready to exhale in relief—until your hands shift again, this time pressing against his chest and back, cradling his heart between your palms. You stand beside him, hands firm but careful, instinct guiding you more than knowledge. You don’t even know if this is what you’re supposed to do for someone who’s been electrocuted, but it’s the only thing that comes to mind.

His heart thunders beneath your touch. The silence is so heavy you can hear yourself gulp on the lump in your throat. You don’t hate him that much, and you hope he knows it.

Finally, Viktor speaks, his breath still rattling. “Well, would you look at that. So there is kindness in your touch after all.” He tries to sound wicked, but there is no venom in his voice.

“Viktor, you bastard. When have I not been kind to you?” you respond playfully, your hands still pressed against him.

“Ah, well. When you implied my alleged castration is the first that comes to mind. But rest assured, my testicles are good and well. I’d show you, but I’m afraid someone has already filled this position in your life,” he trails off, slipping back into his seemingly unbothered attitude.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you groan, rolling your eyes. Still, your fingers linger, as if trying to determine whether his heartbeat is elevated from the shock or something else entirely. Or is it always like this? You don’t dare to ask.

Viktor tilts his head, watching you. “What about?”

“Any of it. You make me fucking gag,” you scoff, finally sliding your hands off him.

“Not yet—but I could.”

You barely have time to register the shift before he catches your hand, his thumb pressing against your palm. A slight twitch makes your fingers curl around his.

“You could what?”

“Make you gag.” The words slip out just as a smirk blooms on his face, faster than he can think to stop either. He can’t tell if he regrets them immediately.

The figurative pin drops. A high-pitched whine rings in your ears. Viktor’s gaze is drilled into you, thumb still pressing into your palm.

Your eyes widen, but you don’t miss a beat. “Well, would you look at that. So there is kindness in you after all,” you murmur.

“Ah, for you. Only kindness, nothing else,” Viktor hums, his voice a low purr as his thumb idly circles the centre of your palm. His grip is loose enough that you could pull away, yet you don’t. His eyes flicker with something unreadable—something that makes your breath catch before you force yourself to scoff.

“Yeah, right.”

His smirk deepens. “When have I not been kind to you?”

“Like… ever?” You raise a brow, tilting your head as if you’re genuinely considering it. “You mock me. You think I’m outright stupid and don’t deserve my spot in class. You constantly correct me and fight me over solutions. You hate working with me, scoff at me, and laugh me out in front of Jayce. And Sky.”

Viktor clicks his tongue, his fingers squeezing yours ever so slightly. “Such is my love language.”

You huff and roll your eyes. “Oh, forget it.” You finally try to pull your hand away, but Viktor doesn’t let go just yet, his grip tightening for half a second before he releases you—only for his cane to hook lightly around your wrist, stopping you mid-motion.

“Wait.” His voice is softer now, coaxing. When you glance at him, there’s something else in his gaze, something warmer, but it’s masked beneath that ever-present air of a prank. “I almost died, you shouldn’t leave me.”

You gape at him. “Viktor—”

“Alright, alright! I surrender.” He chuckles, but there’s something breathless in it. His fingers twitch against his cane. “Wait. Please.”

The sudden plea stills you. Your heart stumbles over itself before you swallow and straighten your posture, crossing your arms in an attempt to shake the feeling off.

Viktor exhales, dragging a hand through his hair before returning his gaze to you. “I do not mock you or laugh you out. I simply jest—I do that with Jayce all the time. You should have noticed by now.”

You purse your lips, unimpressed.

“I do not correct you,” he continues, his voice lilting, as if this is all some grand performance. “I offer you my point of view. And I do not fight you—I simply enjoy some intellectual sparring. Not many can provide one that satisfies me.”

Your fingers twitch, nerves sparking beneath your skin at the way he says satisfies, but you ignore it. Instead, you level him with a flat stare.

“You’re just gaslighting me at this point, Viktor. At least give me a head start before you snap my neck with this thing one day.” You tap the end of his cane with a pointed look.

Viktor grins—slow, wicked. His weight shifts, allowing the cane to rest a little heavier against your wrist, his fingers curling just slightly around the handle.

“Oh, come now. That would be far too merciful.”

Your stomach flips, and you hate that it does.

“Are you going to be good to me now?” Viktor asks, his voice so low you barely hear it, but the weight of it settles deep in your chest.

He takes a step closer, and your breath catches when you feel it—his exhale, warm against your skin, ghosting over your lips. His fingers brush against your wrist, the same one he had seized not long ago. A touch that lingers.

“You have almost killed me, after all.” You watch his lips twisted in a smile you’ve never seen before. And it scares you for some reason.

“Stop this,” you say, firmer than you expected, yanking your hand away. You clutch it to your chest like a wound, like something fragile he might pry apart if given the chance.

Viktor tilts his head, eyes sharp with curiosity. “Why?”

Your throat tightens. “You know goddamn well why.” You take a step back, shaking your head, something bitter curling in your gut. “I am not your project, you dick.”

Viktor’s expression shifts—his smirk falters, lips parting slightly as if caught off guard. “Hey, that is not what I meant—”

But you don’t let him finish. You pivot on your heel, retreating towards the door, your pulse hammering in your ears. You need distance. The lab suddenly feels too small, the air too thick, charged with something neither of you were prepared for.

Behind you, Viktor’s voice follows, just a step behind. “Wait—”

You don’t.

The door swings shut behind you, and Viktor is left standing in the empty lab, staring after where you had just been.

A long exhale leaves him, and he runs a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath,

“Well, damn. That backfired.”

He frowns to himself, rolling his jaw as if trying to make sense of what just happened—of what he just did.

And for the first time in a long while, Viktor realises he doesn’t have a formula for this.

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hello my sweet. quick question: are you doing the kids easter baskets or shall i (easter in this sense is the nondenominational candy eating, egg hunt holiday). I will be saving extra cadbury eggs for us.

okay. I think we all deserve a crack fic concept this march. Imagine this: jaytim, but it’s an ides of march AU. Jason is Caesar, Tim is Mark Antony, etc. Very dramatic, right? Jason gets to die tragically, betrayed and abandoned by those he trusted (👀) Tim gets to monologue about how caesar(jason) was a just and honorable man. He takes up his mantle and cause. cinematic tragic parallels.

Except. EXCEPT. This is ACTUALLY a jaytim theater troupe AU, and the play they’re doing is none other that Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. Jason and Tim are acting rivals in the troupe (like not enemies, but neck and neck) andJason is sooooo mad that Tim got the role of Mark Antony, because now Tim gets to deliver the Monologue™️, and Jason gets to have SO FEW lines and get stabbed. Anyways, as is tradition for theater troupes, they end up banging at the afterparty or something. (next summer the troupe does hamlet and jason and tim get cast as hamlet and horatio. the homoerotic subtext is thru the stage roof on this one.)

Hello darling, way ahead of you [pulls out the heinous carrot Easter baskets I found at Joanns' store-closing clearance sale. The walls appear to be assembled from uncannily realistic carrots. They will haunt the dreams of all who see them.]

AKKDNSA ILL ADMIT, YOU HAD ME IN THE FIRST HALF

I love this concept. I can see the opening of it perfectly, written as though the events of the play are actually happening... slapping my response under a cut because [deep sigh] it got long:

Full-on descriptions of Jason's Roman funeral and his bloodless lips that Tim sorrowfully gazes down at before he turns to the assembled people gathered around Jason's tomb. Then he opens his mouth and starts giving a speech that sounds exceedingly familiar and Shakespearean. The poetically described funeral then follows the rest of the scene line by line from the play and we start to go 'now wait a second'-- and then the audience claps as the curtains close on the scene. It was a play all alonggg

Cut to the after party. I'm making pretend that the after party is like, at the theater and not a secondary location because it's fun. Jason takes his congratulations with a charming smile, but he is definitely seething inside as he watches Tim be showered in accolades. His friends on the set see right through him (I'm thinking a mix up from the usual suspects - maybe Kon or Cassie who are also friends with Tim but became friends with Jason during production lolol and possibly Jaime or Kyle Rayner in addition) and tease and roll their eyes at him, and get him another beer.

Tim and Jason have a banter-filled conversation later in the night, at that sweet spot when the party is still going strong, the music is loud, and folks are starting to show off (stage fighting and improv'd dances abound) loose with alcohol and the triumph of a successfully wrapped production. They snipe at each other with backhanded compliments, and things are getting heated-- until the guys doing four-man floor-jousting (who the hell busted into the props room--) crash into them.

Tim gets doused in what remains of Jason's drink, Jason gets slathered in nacho cheese (neither of them were eating nachos) and their argument fizzles spectacularly as they help each other up, snickering at each other and at themselves. They walk together to their dressing room to clean up-- they both still have a change of clothes in there.

(OF COURSE THEY SHARED A DRESSING ROOM. THE BELLIGERENT SEXUAL TENSION WAS BOTH UNACKNOWLEDGED AND OFF THE CHARTS.)

As they walk, their banter smooths out-- less defensive, more genuine:

Tim: I thought I was gonna throw up on opening night, I was so nervous Jason: are you fucking for real, I thought you were trying to psych me out T: no! Watching-- uh. J: yeah? Come on. Don't leave me hanging T, sheepish: ...watching you run drills calms me down J, sputtering a laugh: flattering as that is, Drake, respectfully? That's the gayest shit I've ever heard. And we did Kinky Boots last year T, laughing as he shoves him: shut up, just forget I said it, okay? J: absolutely not, I'm gonna remember this forever.

They get to the dressing room still laughing at each other, and get changed. Only, this time, there isn't the rush of scene changes or hair and makeup, or anyone else who wants them out in ten (thank you, ten). There's nothing to distract them from each other's proximity, and everything that's been slowly boiling all season, ramping up all night, comes to a peak. One second, Tim's peeling himself out of his wet dress shirt, the next, Jason's right there, and he's looking at Tim's mouth.

"You've got," Jason says, cutting himself off to swipe a thumb over the corner of Tim's mouth, like he's just fixing his makeup, like he's done for any number of his stage partners before. Tim thinks Jason did it for him just last week. "There." Tim's mouth falls open anyway, his tongue catching against Jason's thumb. He tastes cheese dip, and the salty drag of Jason's skin. Jason pauses with Tim's face in his hands, holding Tim in place. Tim fights the urge to swallow as saliva gathers at the site of intrusion; as back and forth, Jason slowly smears his bottom lip wet. "...there," Jason says again, low and wanting. Tim leans in and kisses him.

...aaaand then they bang in the dressing room like they've low-key been wanting to do all season, glory hallelujah amen 🙏🙏🙏

(Next year as Hamlet and Horatio they keep ad libbing a Lot of touchy feely stage direction and the director does Nothing to stop them lmfao their chemistry is bonkers and it's getting butts in seats 😌)

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DO YOU WANNA BE FRIENDS? (a barista!eddie x barista!reader au)

summary: eddie really hates being on bar. Especially during morning rush. When you not only notice his impending breakdown, but do something about it, he realizes that the two of you might be capable of being more than just coworkers.

warnings: ONE use of "y/n", fem!reader (use of she/her pronouns), description of being overstimulated/extremely anxious

wc: 4.5k

a/n: shoutout to all the friends that let me make them fellow victims of the siren <3 also thank you to everyone who showed love the first one shot! i didn't expect that at all so it means the world. hopefully with this part, it makes more sense what i meant by little slices of life! the masterlist will always have the individual one shots listed chronologically.

the full menu

Bar was Eddie’s own personal Hell when he first started. It was chaotic, it was fast paced, and it was simply too much to deal with first thing in the morning (especially on the sparse few hours of sleep he functioned off of).

He was much better put to use on DTO. Taking orders, stalling perfectly so that whoever was on food could get a jump start, cracking plenty of jokes all while still always perfectly reciting back the customer’s drinks. He thrived on DTO. Even when he would be assigned to “one-manning” drive, which simply meant he handled both taking orders and handing them out the window, he was clearly one of the best.

Nicole knew this. Meg knew this. All the shifts knew this — except the newest shift, Gale, apparently.

Because this morning, a major fuck up had occurred.

Gale was going over his floor plan for the peak rush, explaining who would be in which position, and Eddie knew something was up the moment you shot him a concerned look from across the room. Initially, it was actually funny, the way your eyes so quickly found his and your nose scrunched microscopically. But by the time Gale had made his rounds to Eddie, he understood that the reaction you’d given him the privilege to witness had not been just something cute – it had been a siren going off from across the store, your attempt to forewarn him of the impending chaos and doom.

Since that first opening, Eddie has been lucky. Just as he had hoped for, that morning wasn’t the last time he saw you. In fact, he sees so much of you on a weekly basis, he’s sure the Universe is playing a sick joke. It was bound to happen; there’s only so many people who are willingly to be openers (for obvious reasons), and you were one of those brave soldiers. He took Nicole’s advice to heart, he decided to let you slip into pace beside him on the front lines, and he’d been reaping the benefits.

You’re kind, you’re funny, you make the time pass. You make Eddie feel like the two of you might be friends, or at least could be. And it wasn’t the fake kind of niceties that some of the other baristas would extend only from the moment they clocked in to the moment they clocked out. Your sweetness towards him lasted long past being on the clock. In the parking lot in the early mornings, in the lobby after your shift as the two of you solicited just to get a few more jokes in with Nicole. You’d wait for him and walk out to his car with him. You learned how he likes his coffee, and sometimes made him his preferred drink amidst your opening tasks, only handing it over with a smile and charming, “Drink up, Munson. You’re gonna need it to keep up with me today.”

God, he fucking liked you.

A month of openings all tallied up to this moment now, in which you’d just opened him up to the possibility of private, silent conversations in a crowded room. He’d never been on the receiving end of that before. Usually, he was the outsider as glances in a secret language were exchanged.

Not anymore. Not now that you had your sights set on him.

“Hey, Eddie,” Gale approaches him slowly, a friendly enough smile on his face. He’d transferred here from another store a few weeks ago, “So, game plan for today’s peak.”

The words lay it on me are on the tip of Eddie’s tongue, but they stick to the roof of his mouth instead. He wasn’t that quick on his toes with most people at work. Half the time, he’s lucky he’s managed any banter with you.

Blandly, Gale explains how Marissa will be on cafe bar. “And then, I’m going to put myself over on front and warming, try to keep myself flexible for you guys. I’ll have you, Y/N, and Ash run drive today.”

Eddie pales a little, and just as your eyes had immediately sought out his, he’s looking right over Gale’s shoulder to find you peeking out from around the corner, already in position. “Yeah?”

“Yeah!” Gale is oblivious to Eddie’s nerves, “I’ll have you bar, she’ll be your DTO. It’ll be great, you guys are going to kill it.”

The only thing dying will be our drive times.

Gale leaves with a quick, encouraging smack to Eddie’s shoulder, telling him to go ahead and head over to the small nook that’s designated for the drive thru as he ‘splits the bars’ – changing the system so that tickets for cafe and mobile orders will expel out from the printer that sits atop the bar facing the front of the store, while any drive thru orders print on the bar hidden there.

Eddie is in his own personal Hell. Actually, he’s in his own worst conundrum.

On one hand, he’s thrilled to be able to spend the day in this corner with you. Plenty of times, Nicole will assign you to bar and Eddie to take orders or greet customers on the window, and it’s wonderful. Forced proximity due to the set up of the store, easy conversation during lulls, and abundance of inside jokes shouted between customers. He loves it. But he only loves it because he’s not the one busting out those drinks, already starting on the next iced caramel macchiato as the customer at the speaker box has hardly finished announcing it as their drink of choice. He loves seeing you in your element; you’re quick, fast and always on your own rhythm that keeps those damn drive times that corporate care about so much under a minute. Eddie could never do that – he could never average thirty second wait times, especially when so many customers order so many drinks.

Today is not his ideal situation. He will be the one trying to juggle all those drinks, trying to find a pace that works for both him and the customers and fucking corporate.

“You good?” you whisper the moment he steps up around the corner and up to the bar, turning and facing you. Your mirror images of one another – both of you have your lower backs pressed to sticky counters, leaning with arms crossed and already looking defeated before the rush has even begun.

“I’m gonna fuck it all up,” he blurts out quietly, the girl who will be on window - Ashleigh, Ash for short – not quite joining you two in the corner yet. “Our times are going to suck so badly.”

If it were anyone else, he would have just shrugged the question off. He would have smiled politely. But it’s you, still bleeding sunshine even after being back from vacation for a full month, and still offering him a reassuring smile even as his pessimism hangs around the space like a dark cloud.

“Fuck the times,” you immediately say, and he laughs a little, eyes widening in shock at how serious you look right now, “You know what? I think our store has been doing a little too good. I’ve always wanted to see if we could get it up to a five minute window time. Are you down to test my theory today?”

He can’t help but fully throw his head back at that, smile wide, no laughter audibly escaping him but he can feel it fizzing in his chest. He used to hate that, especially during his first shift with you – the way you could seemingly make him feel so much better about this entire situation. Now he’s just grateful. If he has to stand on the deck of a sinking ship on this terrible Tuesday morning, he’s so glad he’s going down with you.

It’s the worst moment for Ash to appear between the two of you, looking wildly confused as she asks, “Did you just say five minute window times?”

You throw your head back, and the laugh that leaves you is the prettiest sound Eddie has ever heard. The fizzling chuckles in his chest burst, and Ash only looks at the two of you as if you were certifiably insane.

Oh, yeah. He’s very glad that this is the ship he will go down in.

—

Famous last words. Not even an hour into peak, Eddie is biting down on every positive thought you had fooled him into entertaining. His jaw aches with both stress and regret as his knuckles sting from burning himself again with the steam wand. Honestly, he thinks he burnt himself less his first time on warming, and he still has a scar on his pinky from those damned ovens.

“We’re just waiting on a-” Ash starts to say to him when she turns and lets the window close, effectively sealing them off from the customer.

“A grande hot americano, I know,” Eddie cuts her off. He didn’t mean to snap, but his irritation is getting the better of him. An impending meltdown is already crawling beneath his skin due to overstimulation and stress.

Yeah, he really hates bar.

When the newest green bean meekly adds on, “With cream and two sugar,” Eddie prepares himself to scream into oblivion.

Until you interfere.

He’s just taken his first breath, shallow and vapid as he glares at Ash, when one of your hands comes down on his shoulder, the other carefully slipping the cup that only needs to have hot water added to it from his grasp and into yours.

“I can finish this off for you,” you sweetly insist, leaning forward so that your face fills the minimal space between him and Ash, “That okay?”

Something flashes in your eyes. It isn’t the same look any of your other coworkers send him when he’s falling behind, when he feels like he’s drowning in this position. It doesn’t feel as though you’re insisting on finishing the drink out of impatience, a desperate last call to speed Eddie along like some sort of machine, but instead as though you’re genuinely trying to help him.

And your hand. It’s still on his shoulder, curling carefully as he finally can feel the way your thumb is sweeping back and forth over his shoulder blade. Such a soothing motion, it nearly makes him cry. Between your thumb and hand, your gentle eyes, your sweet perfume that cuts through the nauseating smell of coffee – all of it makes him just want to throw in the towel, step off the bar, and let you hug him while he’s a giant crybaby. He knows you’re the only one here who wouldn’t judge him. He’s witnessed first hand several other coworkers do almost exactly that, as a matter of fact.

He was still secretly jealous of your coworker Sam and the day that she’d been on the verge of her own breakdown, still had the image of the way you’d softened when you caught sight of her genuine tears and just pulled her into your arms.

He swears he isn’t down bad as some of the kids would call it. He wasn’t special – everyone wanted hugs from you.

“That’s fine,” he answers after far too many precious seconds have slipped away between you two, the customer at the window momentarily forgotten. His voice is thick with emotion and he has to blink several times just to eat away at that impending breakdown once more.

Just make it another few hours. Another few hours, and you can scream and cry all you want in the van. You can lose your damn mind if you so please, if you make it another few hours.

He has to remind himself of this over and over as he lets you finish off that fucking americano, and he takes a few consecutive stickers of nothing but frappucinos. He doesn’t even know the time, but it might be better that way.

He doesn’t even realize the way you’re still watching him so carefully, and so full of concern.

Suddenly, though, your voice sounds over the headsets — this time, without a car at the speaker box. You’ve clicked for the private channel, meant just for communication between any of the baristas wearing a headset.

“Hey, Gale?” you sweetly say.

Eddie finishes the drink he’s working on with shaking hands.

Gale takes several seconds until he finally answers you from where he is in the back, “What’s up?”

“Can we switch up the floor a little bit?” Eddie’s stomach twists immediately, the burn of betrayal causing his shoulders to tense without facing you. Cool. Great. She noticed. She’s doing something about it. She’s about to throw me under the bus. Whatever. “I’m getting tired of DTO, starting to kind of stutter and I can’t hear the customers clearly anymore because my brain is melted.”

That he didn’t expect. It’s subtle, and a little white lie. You hadn’t been stuttering. Any mishearings were laughed off easily. You were constantly buying Eddie more time to get a head start on the drinks.

You weren’t requesting a switch for your sake.

Gale sighs over the channel, mumbling your name before saying, “It’s the middle of peak, we can’t-“

“What if me and Eddie just switch?” he finally turns to face you at your suggestion. You’re not quite looking at him with pity, but understanding. You’d been there before — overwhelmed and panicked on bar, left out to sea without anyone to throw you an anchor. And you could recognize an anxiety attack from a mile away. “The customers always like him better anyways. And he has better suggestions for drinks-“

You’re blatantly lying. You knew Eddie was more comfortable on DTO. You knew he could handle that, even on his bad days. He almost gives in to his urge to hug you out of sheer relief.

“I- Fine. Yeah, that’s fine.”

Once Gale agrees, you’re instantly logging out of your partner number and sweeping your arm out dramatically for Eddie to take your place at the order screen with a small smile. He moves forward slowly, finally feeling like he can breathe as you walk up to the bar.

You didn’t need a break from DTO. You’d thrown yourself under the bus to offer him some relief.

Wordlessly, the two of you transition into your new positions, and it immediately becomes obvious that it was more ideal. You barrel through drinks all while wearing a smile, and although Eddie stays a bit reserved in his interactions with customers as his anxiety settles, he still shows off all his strong suits. Stalling customers with idle chat, lying about checking to see if something was in stock so you could pull extra shots, repeating back drinks multiple times to make sure you heard it correctly.

It’s seamless. The times that corporate cares about dwindle down to better match the day’s goal, and Eddie’s chest finally loosens.

You didn’t have to do that. Anyone else wouldn’t have done that.

When the rush has finally passed, both you and Eddie finally in the final stretch of an hour until your shifts end, he finds the nerve to bring it up.

You’re wiping down counters, humming under your breath, when he clears his throat awkwardly, “Uh, thank you. For earlier.”

“Why are you thanking me?” you ask nonchalantly, shrugging as you stop pretending to be busy, “I really was tired of DTO-“

“No, you weren’t,” he stops you from defending your lie, “You… you’re amazing at DTO. Better than me by a landslide.”

Your entire expression softens from that constant joy and constant reassurance. But the glow of your kindness doesn’t erase with the relaxing of your cheeks. If anything, it simmers and only reaches Eddie even more potently.

You relay your next words with careful consideration, “I’m really not, Eddie. It’s not a competition. I.. do enjoy DTO, but you were stressed. And Gale wasn’t about to change his floor without someone saying something.”

“If it had been anyone else, they would have told me to suck it up,” he points out.

“But it wasn’t anyone else. It was me, and I don’t think any of us should have to spend our shifts suffering.”

You leave off a very important detail that you aren’t quite ready for Eddie to be privy to yet — if it had been anyone else, you wouldn’t have caved so quickly. You actually probably also would have told anyone else to suck it up, albeit still in a light-hearted and encouraging tone. You would have offered extra help, you would have tried to make jokes to ease the anxiety, but you wouldn’t have just thrown yourself under the bus.

And yet, when it comes to him, you find yourself going soft. Any affirmativeness that you use during your training, that you usually persist with having with new hires, has melted.

You hated seeing him so stressed.

“You know,” Eddie’s nervous to say his next words, but they’re true, “You’re probably my favorite coworker.”

Your smile is back, radiant and comforting. Eddie’s pride swells that it was his hand that ignited that bit of flame back into you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You’re like a child, looking down bashfully and fiddling with the edges of your apron. He’s sure that any second now, you might start swaying side to side, that your pupils might form into absolute hearts. You visualize exactly how it feels every time he sees that yellow Jeep parked in the lot.

You bite your lip to break from your shy spell, leaning towards him with a summer glint to your eyes, “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m starting to think you’re my favorite too, Munson.”

A conglomeration of the past month – it feels as though it all comes to a rise in this moment, hitting an unimaginable peak, and he isn’t scared of a sudden drop. There will be no veering or falling down from these heights, no sudden lack of friendliness. He knows it surely the longer he stares into your eyes. If anything, maybe this is actually just a beginning.

“Yeah, sure,” he snorts, unable to contain himself, “I doubt that, Sunshine.”

The nickname slips out without much thought, but he doesn’t even have time to panic – your grin is painfully wide as you lift a brow. “Wanna bet?”

“Never took you as a gambler.”

“John rubbed off on me.”

He twists his face, holding back any sexual innuendos, and that’s when it happens. Your mouth falls open, realizing the dirty joke he’s biting down on, and you gasp dramatically. Your hand flies out without second thought, smacking him on his shoulder.

A smack. That’s what breaks the seal between the two of you. A joking smack on the shoulder at a crude innuendo, and suddenly the unspoken and terribly awkward boundary that should always exist between coworkers is shattered.

“I lied,” you try to deadpan, but you can’t stop smiling at Eddie’s withheld laughter, “Oh my God, fuck you. That’s gross! You’re officially my least favorite coworker.”

“Yeah, but I bet John’s your favorite customer, right?”

He’s able to block your second attempt at a slap this time, now close enough that he smells your perfume and sweet shampoo. Smells whatever lotion you use, that lingering and stubborn fragrant chai syrup that’s dried on your arms. You’re giggling shamelessly as you wrestle your wrist out of his grip. He swears, if you’d let him, his fingertips would stay pressed there on your pulse until the two of you conjoined in some twisted way. Like overgrown roots taking back control of abandoned buildings, you’d wrap around him and his ridiculous insinuations. He’d die a happy man. He’s already about to die a happy man as he feels your heart racing, and he almost convinces himself that you feel it too.

God, Eddie really liked you. He doesn’t care anymore, he’s willing to admit it to himself at the very least. He fucking likes you. He’d be a fool not to.

His fingers are still wrapped around soft skin when suddenly, Gale rounds the corner, and clears his throat.

“I, um-” his eyes zero in on the space left behind as Eddie drops your wrist, and you’re quick to tuck it behind your back. It’s as if the two of you are children who have been caught doing something you shouldn’t have been. Eddie shoves his own burning fingertips into the pocket of his apron, “I just wanted to say you guys did good today. It’s- uh, you’re both off. So… yeah. Um, good job today.”

Eddie gets second hand embarrassment from Gale’s stuttering, but you look like you might burst into laughter at any moment. Not teasing chuckles or cruel mockery, but the kind of laughter that occurs when two friends are in trouble, and they avoid each other’s gazes during their scolding in the fear of laughing at an inopportune moment.

You won’t look his way. It’s exactly that.

“Thanks,” Eddie forces out, seemingly satisfying Gale as he just nods and scurries off.

Once you two are left alone in the corner again, you finally look at him and burst into that building laughter.

Sunshine is fitting for you, he decides, as your laughter fills his lungs with the sun and more.

—

“So, you don’t live near the store?” you ask, scrunching up your nose cutely as you walk side by side with Eddie across the parking lot towards your cars. Both of you had been eager to get out of the store after Gale’s fiddly dismissal.

Eddie shakes his head, pulling the straw of his free drink from his mouth, “Nah, twenty minutes out.”

He’d gotten a caramel frappuccino, emphasis on a blasphemous amount of drizzle, and Ash had nearly castrated him with a glare as she had bustled away on bar. You’d only snorted under your breath and asked for a water.

“Really?” you stop dead in your tracks, in the center of the parking lot. Eddie can’t lie – it makes him nervous. If any of the usual asshole drivers that usually speed through here decided to arrive, they’d hit you. He has half the mind to reach out and grab your hand, to tug you over to the safe space between the two of your cars, “No way – I live twenty minutes away.”

He swears his stomach falls to the pavement below, “You live in Hawkins?”

No. It can’t be possible. He refuses to believe that you could live so close, that you would have been residing so near him this entire time and it took a miserable opening job at some out-of-the-way coffeeshop for him to meet you. You cannot be in Hawkins. Not fucking possible.

“Oh, no,” you shake your head, finally walking over to that space Eddie had deemed safe. The shade from your Jeep stretches only about half way to his van as the sun gets closer to settling into the center of the sky, “Opposite direction.”

“Damn.”

He can’t help the disappointment; yes, his stomach had dropped at the prospect of having spent years already circling around meeting you, but it’s his heart that sinks as you reveal the actual distance between the two of you.

At least this means you don’t know anything about his reputation in his hometown.

“That would’ve been cool, though, right?” you stop and turn to him, kicking as a few of the pebbles on the ground, “If I just so happened to live, like, next door to you or something.”

It would have been Eddie’s innocent crush’s dream come true. To find out his sunny coworker was also his goddamn neighbor.

“Yeah,” he tries to hide his disappointment, continuing on with a shrug, “But if we’re gonna be neighbors, it’s probably better that I live next door to you.”

You look up at him questioning, “Can I… ask why?”

“I live in a trailer park.”

He shouldn’t be handing this information over so easily. He’s one step away from dumping all his childhood traumas onto you.

And he knows that the others joke that it’s normal, and that there've been many heartfelt conversations on the floor between rushes. But something about this feels more personal – it doesn’t feel like two coworkers just comparing old wounds or exchanging living situations. It feels like two friends just getting to know each other.

He never would have admitted that to anyone else that works with the two of you.

You don’t even react, just shrugging as he had to brush off his disappointment. There’s no pity, no disgust. No judgment. It’s just a new piece of the puzzle that is Eddie.

“Fair enough,” you settle on replying before it looks as if you’ve had a sudden revelation. Eddie swears he sees the lightbulb go off over your head, “You know, no one else knows where I live.”

He finds that hard to believe. They all adore you too much, surely your coworkers would be fumbling over themselves to find out as much about you as they can.

“Really?”

“Really. No one’s ever asked me. And it’s… never really come up.”

Something about holding this rare piece of information about you makes Eddie want to jump for joy. He wants to hold it close to his chest, tuck it away for safe keepings. He doesn’t really know why.

But he’s on his way to figuring it out as he says, “I guess it’s not something coworkers really talk about, huh? Probably more friends territory.”

A slight fib, because plenty of the other baristas have overshared that type of information. The ones that talk too much, that never seem to take a breath or leave a space for people like yourself or Eddie to really insert yourselves into the conversations.

He’d noticed that. You talk quite a bit too, but never about yourself. Always encouraging information out of other people, remembering the little details they share, but it’s never an even exchange. He used to think it was a choice you made, but he’s suddenly wondering if it’s because no one ever cared to listen.

“I guess so,” you hum. You two should part ways. You climb into your Jeep, Eddie hop into his van. And maybe you’d sit in your respective idle vehicles for a second, even look at each other through tinted windows and make silly faces. But this should be the beginning of the end of your day together. Someone has to leave; one of you should leave. Instead, you just tilt your head curiously at Eddie, and he knows why now he wants to hold you so near and dear and safely as you ask him, “Well, in that case, do you wanna be friends?”

And – yeah. Eddie does want to be friends. As a matter of fact, he might want to even be more than friends eventually. But for now, this offering is enough.

He thinks you’ve rubbed off a little on him, because he must be bleeding a little bit of sunshine as he says, “Absolutely.”

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Sonic Prime: "Season 2"

Eight more episodes of Sonic Prime are out! They're labeled as "season 2" despite just being the next eight episodes of the first (and presumably only) season, allowing Netflix to market it as multiple seasons without having to give the cast and crew raises. They love doing that shit to their original cartoons. Ugh.

Anyway! Last time, I gave the show some leeway because it was still finding its legs. This time, though? We're now two thirds of the way through the series, and sadly, I think it's time to accept the truth:

While there are parts I like, a lot of this show... kinda sucks?

This multiverse sucks and Rouge was robbed

Previously, I noted the pattern of each universe spotlighting a different friend of Sonic's (Tails in New Yolk City, Amy in the jungle world, Knuckles in the pirate world) and predicted that, hopefully, Rouge would get her time to shine next. And with 16 episodes left, surely there's time to explore new worlds that are more interesting than the jungle and pirate worlds. Those were just the warm up act. Right?

...Right?

Nope! That's it! There are no more worlds.

This multiverse show where anything is possible really is just about another Eggman-controlled dystopia world, a jungle world, and a pirate world. That's all they came up with! Just those three, and two dead worlds that don't really count - one a featureless wasteland, the other a ghostly echo of the original Green Hill dubbed "Ghost Hill." (Sonic's friends appear here as holograms stuck repeating a single line each. It gets old immediately.)

The jungle and pirate worlds and their inhabitants being so overwhelmingly generic becomes unforgivable the moment you realize this is all we're gonna get. It just leaves me wishing they'd thrown this whole concept out and finally made a normal Sonic cartoon with no twist in its premise. A few of the new takes here are good, particularly Nine as a darker riff on Tails, but so many of them don't feel anything like the fun characters they're supposed to be. They're stock cartoon characters wearing the Sonic casts' skins.

I'll admit my bias is showing, but god, Rouge is REALLY done dirty by this setup. The normal Rouge we see in the first episode is so fun for how briefly she appears, but then in all the other worlds she's reduced to a generic action girl with zero personality. What's her purpose, exactly, when every AU version of Amy is ALSO a straightforward action girl? It drives me absolutely insane that they gave us a PIRATE ROUGE and she doesn't care about treasure. They do nothing with this! How!!!!!!!! She's just never gonna get her turn. It's so obvious that Rouge is only in this show so that they can have another girl, but you could swap her out with another character like Blaze and it'd make no difference.

Speaking of the pirates, though...

The way things play out in the pirate world is so stupid

Previously, with the Paradox Prism shard within reach, Captain Dread Knux was regressing into his old obsessive personality. I'm fine with this. Sonic and Dread both want the shard, they're gonna fight over it. Obvious stuff. But the actual impact it has on the story is maybe the stupidest bit of writing in this entire show so far.

Basically, while fighting a couple of the Eggmen and their robots at sea, Sonic has to briefly run over to the enemy ship to fight them and grab the Paradox Prism shard while Dread and his crew remain back on their ship. Dread goes "Oh my god, look! Sonic's abandoning us! Traitor!" While Sonic is... like 200 feet away. Still in clear view. Fighting the guys who are trying to kill them. Retrieving Dread's beloved treasure for him.

And yet, Dread's crew buys this! And when Sonic runs right back over with the shard in hand, they're all like "HOW DARE YOU BETRAY US" and turn on him.

It's just. What?!

This isn't a huge part of the "season," but I highlight it as maybe the worst moment of the show's character writing. I'm reminded of Thorn Rose's backstory from last time, where she was depicted as suddenly snapping one day when she saw her friends pick one too many berries in the jungle. Sometimes a character just needs to pivot for the story to work, and they aren't really interested in getting there smoothly.

The Chaos Council fucking sucks

I tried so hard to like these guys, but they drag the show down so much.

The choice to have a team of five different Eggmen really just means that Eggman has been split into five one-note characters. Four of them revolve entirely around the most trite, predictable, boomer-ass jokes based on their ages. The teenage one is whiny and just wants to play video games. The young adult one is a vegan hipster who does yoga. The old one is cranky about all the whippersnappers and has a bad back. The baby is a baby. These are jokes that would've been tired if this show aired 20 years ago.

The odd man out is Mister Doctor Eggman, the middle-aged one with a toupee who's the stand-in for regular Eggman. But even he kinda sucks. The other four all being one-note joke characters means that he has to be the straight man of the group, so he's just very dry and serious and plot-focused without any of Eggman's fun eccentricities. He's neither particularly funny nor particularly sinister, which is just about the worst place for an Eggman to be.

He doesn't even have any incompetent robot lackeys to bounce off of, because the unfunny alternate age Eggmen fill the quota for bumbling secondary villains. But also, like... Orbot and Cubot are in this show! They were in the first episode! Where are they? God, I never thought I'd miss them so much...

But, okay. It's not ALL bad.

The highlights

There's a recurring theme here, which is that the best episodes are the ones where Sonic is pitted against a foe who can match his speed and they just let the animation carry it.

The first of the new episodes is mostly about Sonic fighting Shadow, and BOY is their fight fun to watch. Said fight happens because Shadow blames Sonic for shattering the universe and doesn't trust him to fix things. Shadow wants to restore their world, but he refuses to see the various AU counterparts as the same people Sonic once knew, and he doesn't really care what happens to them. Ultimately, though, he begrudgingly accepts that Sonic really is the only one who can hop between dimensions for Plot Reasons, and therefore lets him go try to do things the nice way. He sadly spends most of his time waiting around in the void between worlds, but in the last episode of the batch he and Sonic get to team up against the Chaos Council's forces and it's very cool.

As far as recent interpretations of Shadow go, this is a good one. He's a great foil for Sonic, which just makes me wish he could travel with Sonic to the different worlds. He's cynical and overly pragmatic in his approach, but his points aren't entirely wrong. His anger feels justified. They even let him have some snark! And Ian Hanlin is really great in the role - definitely a contender for Shadow's best voice ever. He just sounds so natural.

The other speedster Sonic fights is Chaos Sonic, the Chaos Council's take on Metal.

He can talk! Deven is basically doing a Jaleel impersonation for him? People are very mixed on this.

The idea behind Chaos Sonic is to turn Sonic's obnoxious smack talk and zingers back around on him, and I don't hate this idea, even if a lot of fans find him annoying compared to Metal Sonic. (Some comparisons have been made to Archie's Shard, but I assume this is a coincidence.) Like the rest of the script, his dialogue certainly isn't anything to write home about, but the fights he gets into with Sonic and co. are so damn fun and dynamic that I have to like him. I also like how expressive his eyes are on his dome screen face, and the animators have a ton of fun with the fact that his torso and head can rotate 360 degrees.

Unfortunately, he's destroyed at the end of his debut episode. I'm praying he gets rebuilt, because this show desperately needs better villains than the Chaos Council.

Again, the animation in Prime is maybe the best animation in any official Sonic media, period. I just wished I liked the characters and worlds enough to be invested in more of the fights. It's hard to care about the dozenth group battle against the generic Eggforcer bots and the baby in his Fisher-Price mech.

The note we end on

After fighting a giant glowing replica of the normal Eggman for... some reason? Episode 16 ends with Sonic and Nine getting into an argument over what to do with the Paradox Prism shards. Sonic wants to restore his original world, but Nine still wants to create a new, better world out of the one that's just an empty wasteland, believing he doesn't belong anywhere else. Nine angrily runs off with the shards, and Sonic is distraught as he realizes that Shadow was seemingly right about how he shouldn't trust Nine.

I kind of like this conflict, mostly because Nine is the standout character of this show. But my main problem is that we don't know what will happen when everything is fixed.

The logical assumption is that the alternate worlds will just... stop existing, right? That must be the idea if Sonic and Nine are treating restoring the original world and creating a new one in the Shatterverse as mutually exclusive options, right? If the Shatterverse disappears, will Nine and the rest all stop existing, too? The show seems unwilling to discuss this possibility, so I'm left not really knowing what the stakes are in this conflict. Nine becomes a whole lot more sympathetic and Sonic becomes a whole lot more monstrous if restoring the world will erase most of this show's cast from existence, but the thought that this could even happen doesn't seem to have crossed Sonic's mind. Sonic seems to want to take his AU friends back to the regular Green Hill - he at least wants to introduce Nine to his normal friends - but like... he can't really do that, can he? They're not gonna have four Tailses running around.

I don't really know what direction this is all headed in. I guess we just have to keep watching, even if I'm past the point of accepting that this show is mostly very mid.

It's just frustrating that everyone else working on this show is clearly giving it their all while the writers at Man of Action phone it in for so much of its runtime. The scripts drag this show down so, so hard. There are moments and episodes I like, but you have to slog through so much mediocrity to get there.

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Anne of the Island, by L.M. Montgomery

Anne of the Island, Chapter Three!

Here comes Redmond! It would be on a Monday, too.

Two things I really, really love: that Di and Anne wanted to drive to the station together, and Anne’s sense of foreboding/little “presentiment” that she was actually leaving Green Gables forever. Of course, we readers know this to be true, but we thankfully have the advantage of knowing yet another truth... that yes, Anne can be happy somewhere else. I also wonder how much of Anne’s foresight is linked, in terms of the bends-in-the-road, to the appeal and/or dread of the ferry itself (as last time she was a passenger, it brought her from the asylum to Green Gables), because it seems to be the very vehicle of Anne’s shifting futures.

“Dora […] was one of those fortunate creatures who are seldom disturbed by anything.” Funny. I can’t tell if this is supposed to be her natural-born disposition or if it’s a defense mechanism learned by way of necessity, on account of having Davy for a brother.

Something else (of virtual inconsequence) that I like to note about the boat interlude, is that Anne’s internal monologue demonstrates clear annoyance towards Charlie, supposing that he’d be only pretending to be sentimental about watching PEI disappear from their sight... when only one or two lines later, it’s Gilbert that’s actually openly unsentimentally commenting, “Well, we’re off!” But Anne is somehow rather fine with that, lmao. I suppose it’s just the pretense that bugs her. Or maybe it’s the pretense of Charlie being able to relate to her feelings that bugs her? Meanwhile, there’s zero pretense in Anne’s ability to comfortably share her truest feelings with Gilbert. Cute!

That Gilbert’s not-so-very-sentimental over leaving Avonlea is not particularly strange, either. He is 21, and he has been largely out of his parents home, experiencing self-reliance, for over a year now, while boarding and teaching at White Sands. The age gap between Anne and Gilbert is nearly always negligible, but here in this one book I do think it’s occasionally a little glaring. Anne’s just a wee and nervous fledgling, dipping a pinky toe into the pool of independence, where as Gilbert’s wings are strong, and already maturely developed.

Anne of the Island, Chapter Four!

Anne of the Island, by L.M. Montgomery

Every time I read this chapter, I’m reminded of the main difference between Anne of Windy Poplars and Anne of Windy Willows… which is that the Canadian publisher, for Windy Poplars, was mighty concerned about Maud’s fixation on graves and cemeteries and gruesome deaths throughout the text, and asked for quite a lot of it to be cut out. The English (Windy Willows, that is), however, really said doooon’t care. 🤓

Much respect and credit due to the Montgomery scholars, who have over the years hunted up and presented the following photos of Old St. Paul’s Burying Ground in Halifax, as close as possible to how it would’ve looked, for Anne and Pris and Phil.

Pris feeling like an ‘elephant’ at registration because of her considerable height, besides just making me sad for her, is always a source of curiosity for me. Anne is tall too... but she is proud of this, and when people speak of Anne being tall, it’s always in a tone of admiration. So, I wager we can guess that Pris must dwarf Anne’s tall? In the 1880s, historical data generalises that the average Canadian woman was 160 cm or 5’3[ish]. Anne, being ‘tall’, was probably 165 cm or 5’5, soooo Pris, markedly feeling enormous, maybe 172 cm? 5’8? This would be boyishly tall, since the average man of this time-period was the same 172 cm or 5'8.

Phil! ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Btw who’s gonna take one for the team and dream up an “Anne of Mount Holly” fic, an (obvious) AU where Anne’s mum Bertha and Phil’s mum were pals (since they’re from the same city, after all), and it ends up it’s actually the Gordon’s that take Anne in, when her parents pass. An Anne from luxury, instead of an asylum.

“Thanks,” laughed Anne, “but Priscilla and I are so firmly convinced of our own good looks that we don’t need any assurance about them, so you needn’t trouble.” How far Anne has come. I think of that Louisa May Alcott quote, “love is a great beautifier.” Maud also leans heavily into love as transformative/beautifier for so many of her girls, and imo this is a pretty great message and overall universal truth, security and kindness giving way to confidence.

Okay, but between the two, as described, am I on crack or is the obvious choice not Alec? Or maybe I’m prejudiced against the name Alonzo, as well.

Anne going cold on Phil the second she mentions finding Gilbert ‘really handsome’ is soooy charmingly Anneish. Bonus points to Pris here, because evidentially she knew to begin preparing to leave in that moment too. Girlish solidarity.

The connection between Phil and Ruby is yet another point of interest to me. They share nearly the very same lines, sometimes, here specifically when we march steadily backwards to Anne of Green Gables when of Ruby the narrative asserts for her, "Frank Stockley had lots more dash and go, but then he wasn’t half as good-looking as Gilbert and she really couldn’t decide which she liked best!" Compared of course to Phil’s, “I like them both so much that I really don’t know which I like the better.”

Anne of the Island, Chapter Five!

Anne of the Island, by L.M. Montgomery

Gilbert Blythe is good at everything he puts the tiniest amount of effort into. 😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌 He’s class president, he’s football captain, and he’s singled out among the other members of the freshman class, to join a frat. Niiiiice. I know I’ve totally yapped about it before, but I think it’s wildly intriguing that Maud put Gilbert into Lamba Theta, when irl there were only three frats existing across all of Canada. Even when she attended Dalhousie, almost two decades after Anne and Gilbert attend Redmond. Small potatoes Dalhousie wouldn’t have a proper frat until 1923. So, I’m dying to know where from she gathered her frat info, especially as she’s obviously familiar with hazing/initiation processes. Elsewhere, the good news is: a Victorian-era frat was a legitimate intellectual and debate society, not a collection of dudebros inSperrys, having beer pong championships at 9 am on a Tuesday.

“Gilbert Blythe won’t take any notice of me, except to look at me as if I were a nice little kitten he’d like to pat. Too well I know the reason. I owe you a grudge, Queen Anne.” Gilbert Blythe also has tunnel vision. You can line upevery single one of the above ^ accolades, butnone of them hold as strong or are even half so appealing as this; Gilbert’s capacity for fidelity. Phil’s the best-looking girl in her class, and besides which is also enormously clever and funny and affluent, and yet her attempts (“won’t take any notice of me” impliesthat Phil didtry, and did seek said attention) fall flat. His heart has been spoken for since he was 13, you see.

Officially entering ‘Queen Anne’ 👑 into the registry of Anneisms.

"Even the grumpy old professor of Mathematics, who detested coeds, and had bitterly opposed their admission to Redmond, couldn’t floor her [Phil]." This was reputedly a real fellow iirc. In a magazine article from I think, 1912, A. Wylie Mahon published a review of Anne of the Island, in which he stated emphatically that “Redmond College is Dalhousie University” (true) and that the 'grumpy old professor of Mathematics, who detested coeds,' “was known to the students of his day as ‘Charlie'...” (possibly true).

“I don’t believe any but fools enter the ministry nowadays,” she wrote bitterly. PFFFT 😭😭😭 I laugh every time I read this letter. I wish I could correspond with Mrs Rachel.

I do wish I could forget about the ugly ‘big black man’ story that Davy shares, but is anyone familiar with “the old Harry” he refers to? 🧐 I’ve never been able to tell if this is a Mi’kmaq Gugwe reference or if it’s just supposed to mean literally like… some guy… named Harry. Orr?

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Desmond in jjk?

Here’s a “AC characters in a JJK AU” idea from before.

So for this one, we’ll go for a simple case of Desmond gets kicked into JJK world after saving his world.

He wakes up lying on bags of trash in Japan and tries to find his way back to America.

… without any kind of identification.

Things are strange for sure.

He has not seen any Abstergo product, not even a damn painkiller.

So he goes to what he believed to be the Brotherhood’s main headquarters in Japan (according to Rebecca who made him remember as many as possible in as many countries as they had on file) which turned out to be Jujutsu High in Tokyo.

And, for some reason, the moment he stepped into the supposed barriers of Jujutsu High…

He loses consciousness.

And the sorcerers all around feel a Special Grade Cursed Spirit enter the barrier for a fraction of a second.

When they reached the supposed origin, all they find is an unconscious Desmond.

Now, this is where this setup could go in 2 ways.

1. We set this up around Gojo and Geto’s past, maybe a month or so before they go ‘get’ Riko.

2. We set this up a week or so after Yuuji transferred to Jujutsu High.

Setup 1 will make Desmond have a tricky place in regards to the sorcerers. Gojo would definitely be interested in him but he wouldn’t have the same ‘pull’ as he would have had as a teacher to keep the other high ranking sorcerers from trying to kill Desmond because they’re afraid of an unknown like him.

Setup 2 would make it easier for Gojo to pull some string and take Desmond under his wing either as a student (who is still a 25 year old man so Nobara is definitely gonna tease him about that or as something similar to a teacher’s aide).

Setup 2 would be more in line of Desmond trying to figure out why people say he’s possessed (was it his Bleeds? Was it the fact that he was from another world? Hell, he won’t be surprised if he himself is the actual Cursed Spirit at this point) while growing close to his fellow ‘classmates’.

Setup 1 can have a similar progression with Desmond becoming Gojo’s classmate. Maybe in this one, Yaga was able to pull some string to put Desmond in a sorta half-student half-prisoner situation.

Setup 1 can also have Desmond on the run from the sorcerers which ends with him partnering with Toji (which may or may not lead to something more)

Whichever setup you choose, Desmond is not able to see cursed spirit UNLESS he activates Eagle Vision. He also don’t necessarily have cursed energy and he needs to adapt his skills as an Assassin to defeat curses using cursed tools.

AND he will absolutely watch every movie he can get his hands on because some of the movies are very similar to what he saw in his world but also definitely different.

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"Isn't Enemies to Lovers proship" Nope! Here's Why (+ Explaining Strawmen)

Proship/comship/neutral/darkfic DO NOT interact!! This post is not and never will be for you, stay away from me.

So I got this question as an anon but the ask just disappeared 😭 anyways I feel like this is a good topic to tackle because this shoddy argument is thrown around a lot

Short answer: No, but it can be depending on the execution

Long answer: Enemies to lovers as a trope isn't inherently toxic, but if it's handled wrong then yes the relationship would be abusive and ergo would be proship. But just because it CAN be handled poorly doesn't mean it's AUTOMATICALLY toxic and bad on principal

More under the cut:

I've had people I've hated who I later warmed up to. Happens all the time, that's life, you're not gonna like everyone. But that doesn't mean we abused one another or made one another's life a living hell. If you're thinking about ETL (Enemies To Lovers) in the context of the Enemy being this ruthless tyrant who tears down the MC at every opportunity, ruins their life, and overall makes the MC severely harmed from their actions: yes, that is abuse. THAT relationship would be proship.

But that's what I call BookTok ETL, cause BookTok is where it's most normalized (and let's be fr, they normalize proship stuff ALL THE TIME). BookTok ETL is specifically different from general ETL cause most interpretations of the trope are written by people who know there's a line between flirty angry banter and actual harmful interactions. Any sane person who loves the trope will tell you there's definitely a limit and that it becomes gross and uncomfortable when that line is crossed.

And, what I find important to emphasize: every trope CAN be toxic if done wrong. Childhood Friends to Lovers can be unhealthy if the childhood friend in question is a thoughtless shitbag and torments the MC. Coffee Shop AUs can be toxic if it's someone harassing an essential service worker the whole time. I've experienced media that's made me love tropes I usually don't care for just as much as I've seen media do a trope I love so badly that the relationship is a cesspit mess that I wouldn't ever dream of supporting.

My point here is judging a general and inherently harmless trope just based off of the idea that it could sometimes maybe be portrayed as toxic, doesn't mean the trope is on principal bad/toxic/gross. "But what about hero x villain?"— same rules apply. If Villain is terrorizing Hero or the ones they love so badly that it gives Hero trauma or deeply negatively impacts them in a scarring way, that is abuse and no one should argue that it isn't. But the trope can also be lighthearted and sweet, depending on the way it's handled.

Now onto my second portion:

What is a strawman?

A strawman is directly defined as "an intentionally misrepresented proposition that is set up because it is easier to defeat than an opponent's real argument". The very question of attributing harmless tropes to abuse romanticizing proshippers is a strawman. An argument that's meant to seem like a "HAHA GOTCHA" to people who don't sit and think for more than two seconds on how you're literally grasping at straws. This ties into a common trend of proshippers trying to worm their way into everything.

Let me be blunt: proshippers did NOT and never have invented shipping, selfshipping, fandoms, or anything of the like. They like saying that as an imaginary "gotcha" card to the rest of us, just claiming with zero proof or evidence to have invented online spaces because that's easier to argue over than the fact that they're supporting actually disgusting things. 9/10 they just wanna piss people off and then flood them with harassment when the person points out the obvious holes in their argument (pretty ironic coming from the "we don't support harassment!" crowd by the way)

So, to reiterate and be as clear as possible; no, enemies to lovers and hero x villain aren't proship. They can BECOME proship if specific portrayals are done in a very toxic way that make the relationship abusive, but any trope can be represented horribly, so no it does not automatically mean the trope as a concept is proship. Claiming it is is a strawman argument largely used by proshippers because they're deflecting from what they're actually doing wrong and trying to grasp at straws to "epically own the stupid antis" or something like that

Ty for reading

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i love that steve yockey wrote michael's dialogue like that, "i'm gonna write the opposite of what dean thinks for every character in order to hurt them" which means you can reverse everything he says and learn his true feelings about each character. genius.

I think this is definitely a clever part of the writing. (Yay Yockey!)

Michael is good at twisting things to create a diversion/undermine his enemies. (Maybe even better at it than Lucifer, heh.)

I think another part is that AU Michael understands absolutes better than duality. He’s picks out and amplifies the negatives. I’m reminded of Cas’s line in season 9 about human emotion:

CAS: Theebbandflowofhumanemotion- Dean, I've been on earth for a few years, and I've only begun to grasp it. 9x09 Heaven Can’t Wait

AU Michael doesn’t grasp it. Not really.

He runs around asking everyone, “What do you want?” and if there’s any complexity at all to that answer, he brands that person/angel “lost,” “weak,” or “unreliable.” This is why he allies himself with vampires at the end of 14x01. Because he can’t comprehend shades of gray or nuance.

Humans feel a billion things every day. Moment to moment. But every fleeting discomfort, every microsecond of frustration, every scrap of resentment or bitterness? To Michael, these get magnified into absolutes. (This is often how demons present their truths: through the most uncharitable interpretations possible.)

///

Loved ones are burdens

A more honest answer might be that our loved ones are, in fact, both beloved and burdensome. We trade strengths and share burdens, but that doesn’t mean they come without weight.

It’s only in relationships that are more figmentary, kept at arm’s length, or those that have ended and become idealized—like memories of people who never truly had a chance to be seen for who they really were—that we see relationships without real baggage.

This is especially true in a world likeSupernatural.

///

Dean wasn’t happier without Sam in his life

AU MICHAEL: And, Sam—oh, Sam... You know, Dean was his happiest when you quit hunting, leaving him with your dad, just the two of them. See, deep down, he knows that you will always abandon him, again and again.

I think it’s probably true that Dean was occasionally relieved when it was just him and Dad, but mostly because it was a break from the turbulence and in-fighting.

At the same time, he felt abandoned by Sam, maybe jealous that Sam reaped all the rewards (education! freedom!) of Dean bearing the family burdens.

Yet, Dean also wanted what was best for Sam and was genuinely happy to see Jessica Moore in his djinn dream. More often than not in the series, Dean encourages Sam toward happiness, though not at the expense of what he perceives is a balanced work-life obligation the people in their lives that depend on them.

But it’s certainly not true that he was happier without Sam, nor that he wished it had been only him and John all the time.

///

Dean’s not with Cas because he “owes” him but because he loves him

AU MICHAEL: You only tolerate the angel because you think you owe him, because he "gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition." Or whatever. But since then, what has he done? Only made mistakes, one after the other.

Michael mocks the line about being "gripped tight and pulled from perdition," showing us that this is a line Dean recalls often, perhaps replaying it in his mind over and over.

(AU Michael also coos: “Oh, Cas… I believe in you!” in an earlier scene, and it seems to me that he finds Dean’s emotions a bit… amusing.)

But to my point—maybe the bad parts are a little bit true. Feeling indebted to Cas might be intertwined with Dean’s gratitude, and it’s definitely true that Dean harbors real resentment over Cas’s mistakes. However, Michael can’t completely parse the complexities of Dean’s feelings for Cas. He can’t reconcile the bad with the good. It’s an alien’s perspective.

But Dean… The way Dean talks about love inOptimismshows us that he can handle all the complexities and put them into words. He feels a deep gratitude toward Cas for saving him, and he recognizes that Cas’s mistakes are part of the endurance of real love—not the idealized, immature kind.

Interestingly, while Sam and Jack are visibly shaken by AU Michael’s words, Cas doesn’t seem affected in the same way. Not only does he remain unruffled when he steps in to assure Jack that Michael is “loose with the truth,” but he also quickly picks up on Michael’s barbs as a deliberate strategy—he calls it out: “You’re stalling.”

By saying “Poughkeepsie,” Sam helped Dean break out of his loop of simplistic vampire hunts. But by mouthing off to Michael, it’s Cas who helps Dean rally his self-confidence. Cas's steadfast trust in Dean serves as a source of strength.

I personally think this implies that Cas and Dean have talked through their mistakes more in-depth than we think, even if they haven’t fully discussed their “feelings" per se.

They trust each other, even when they’re feeling completely downtrodden or vulnerable. Even when "their instincts might be screaming otherwise," you know?

///

Finally: Of course Dean loves Jack

We have to remember that AU Michael’s attack is two-fold, here. Unlike with the others, Michael is absolutely seething about Jack turning him down on family bonding time in 14x09 The Spear.

AU MICHAEL: “A moment of familial weakness. It won't happen again."

What Michael probably really wants is to undo the murder of his brother, Lucifer. But Jack is unwilling to become Lucifer’s replacement. So Michael wants to cut Jack as deeply as possible. As punishment.

AU MICHAEL: Like, I know how sad he was when you died… on the outside. On the inside, well, it's not that he was happy— he just didn't care. 'Cause you're not Sam. You're not Cas. You're a new burden that he was handed. You're a weak, helpless thing. You think that they care about you, love you? You're a job, a job none of them wanted.[…]

Ergo, following that mindset, maybe Michael’s a little bit right. Maybe part of Dean doessee Jack as "another burden handed to him” and he might even he worried about Jack’s newfound weakness—but it’s also more complicated than that.

And it’s true: Jack isn’t like Sam or Cas, but it’s not because he’s not family. It’s because he’s a different kind of family. While Sam has grown into being a brother, an equal, Jack is and will forever remain wholly “son.” That’s a scarier bond. It doesn’t just come with love but with responsibility, hope, and an undeniable weight.

And as for Jack’s death—while Dean may have initially reacted with emotional numbing and shock, he was devastated. Time has shaped Dean's reaction to grief, and he is trying to do it right:

14x08 Byzantium via @spnscripthunt-inactive

//

Appealing to the “you’re just a burden” is something Zachariah also made good use of in his nightmare-land from Dark Side of the Moon:

ZACH!MARY: I never loved you. You were my burden. I was shackled to you.

5x16 Dark Side of the Moon

///

Oops, I rambled.

Anyhoo, that a wounded Dean echoes any of AU Michael’s words is, to me, a testament to how deep his psychological wounds are (late 14 through season 15).

The series told us over and over again about the psychological ruination that results from being the vessel for an archangel… with many humans implied catatonic afterwards. (The series also spent the majority of season 14 showing us how much being glued to Lucifer wounded Nick...)

But yes, I do love the double-speak in the writing and how it often implies the opposite of what’s being said. That’s so much for bringing this into my ask box!

///

One more bit about indirect dialogue:

I also loved when Dean was hurling word-daggers in at Bobby, Cas, and Sam in 5x18. Dean was mocking his unique relationship with each of his loved ones:

Mocking his belief in Sam’s strength:

DEAN (to SAM): I just…I—I don’t believe […] In you. I mean, I don’t. I don’t know whether it’s gonna be demon blood or some other demon chick or what, but…I do know they're gonna find a way to turn you.

& Pretending he doesn’t see Bobby as a father:

DEAN (to BOBBY): You’re not my father. And you ain’t in my shoes.

& Making light of his deepening feelings with Cas:

DEAN (to CAS): Well, Cas, not for nothing, but the last person who looked at me like that… I got laid.

/////////////////

Finally, I can’t help that point out that fleeting moments of resentment and even longer moments of being angry/upset/disillusioned with our loved ones isn’t a big, abnormal thing. It’s just very human. And healthy.

(In SPN-world, it’s coded as more concerning when we see the opposite, when characters insist someone is perfect or never lets them down. This is a SPN “poughkeepsie” pattern that I mentally shuttle into the “pure” bucket. See: Harper, Amara, Chuck etc)

///

But fleeting moments of negativity are real. Which is to me what makes Jack’s murder of Mary so very sad:

"Only for a second." :(

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Seventeen with an s/o that writes/produces songs? The s/o could be like a very famous one! for example: when fans see their name is in the credits of a song (kpop or even western music, cus why not be a global phenomenon 🤷🏽‍��️) they already know it’s gonna be so good since they have a history of making amazing music, iykiwm?

THANK YOU SO MUCH! Also I love your work, you’re so talented and you always put stuff out so quickly but to the highest quality it’s quite mind blowing. ilysm!! 💗

🎶Who; Seventeen (individually) x reader, with a focus on Jihoon at the end 🎶What; headcanon, idol/producer au 🎶Wordcount; 570-ish 🎶Warnings; none, I don't think

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N - I'm not sure how to do individual reactions for this because I'm pretty sure they'd all be pretty similar so I don't want to be repetitive, so I'll write a general thought and any extra bits for those who may have an individual line of thought. Sorry it's taken a little while to write too, I really couldn't figure out how to write this so I hope this is okay. Thank you for the suggestion and I hope you like it

Also omg you're so sweet omg, that's genuinely one of the nicest comments I've ever had about my writing! Being told my writing is high quality feels insane in the best of ways! Thank you for saying that! I really appreciate it 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

He will love it if you're in the same industry as him, especially if you're well known because you'll know exactly what it's like to be him; the busy schedules and little privacy with people always trying to have a view into your personal lives. So you'll be able to bond over that from day one.

The biggest hype man for his partner; they won't all cheer the loudest at award shows because obviously, some of them are much too introverted for that but they will all shower you with praise for every award you win. But even if he doesn't cheer the loudest, he will all do his utmost to share every single new release you've worked on, sometimes his social media accounts will seem more like a fan accounts for you but it's very sweet and cute so the fans don't really mind.

Of course, it's not all fun times. What with how busy you both are, it's genuinely really hard to find time to be together so unless you move in together, you probably might not even see each other on a weekly basis. Though even if you live together, your conflicting schedules will probably make it hard to be awake at the same time so most of your quality time together is spent asleep.

So long as you both try to make space for each other in your hectic schedules and try and have a phone/video call every single day and send update/random messages to one another throughout the day when possible, you'll be fine.

Now, of course, I have to do a special shout-out to Jihoon, producer-songwriter extraordinaire. If anyone will understand how much he works, it's you. But the funniest thing is, he's actually the one I think will be able to handle all this the easiest.

Because I have this very vivid of Jihoon in his studio working away with his headphones on and his phone propped up in the matching stands you have in your own studios, your face on his screen showing you doing the exact same thing in your own studio. You can't hear each other and honestly, the calls are muted at both ends so even if it wasn't for your headphones, you wouldn't be able to hear one another, but just being able to glance down and see the other diligently working on the next chart-topper gives you both the energy to keep going. Every now and then, one of you will remove your headphones so the other will notice the movement and look at the screen to copy & unmute the call to hear whatever the other has to say. It's often asking the other's opinion on the track being worked on. Or one of you saying you need to go so the call needs to end. Though sometimes, Jihoon will subtly free one of his ears from his noise-cancelling headphones and unmute the call just so he can hear the tapping of you working away mixed with the random pieces of speech when you mumble to yourself as you work. You may not be paying him any attention at this point and he times it purposely so you never know he does it, but it fills his chest with happy warmth, and then he'll remute the call, fix his headphones and get back to work with a content little smile on his face.

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i've been considering doing an AJ au but then i found out that AJC and AJPW are somehow connected and it confused me so I considered rebuilding my au lore from the ground up but then i was wondering if it was doing too much and if i should just make sense of canon i'd like some advice ^w^'

In my personal opinion, I think aus are somewhat meant to be a lot of things; whether it's changing the main story line almost entirely or adding things that you want in there to help the canon out a little. There's not really a right or wrong, as long as it stays true to the canon somehow. Okay let's yap

For example, you could literally go off the canon story entirely and base a whole oc around that canon world, just make sure for others who might wanna look into it know it's still that canon world!

For animal jam however, it's a bit more hard, but it gets easy! Then hard again— it's like a rollercoaster with barely any stops

For my au, P&F, it's a mix of both animal jam worlds (classic and play wild) because even if they're both separate and sometimes the same, they're technically more different than anything story ish wise

But I manage to combine certain elements from each game, making what I truly want from it

But it can't stay like that forever sometimes if the story gets officially updated or adds something that might ruin a plot in your story. So don't really be afraid to make changes if you're wanting to stick with more updated AJ content

Another thing I do for my au is to establish certain characters, events, and most pop-out stories I find intriguing!

I can't say much about this one since my au is still technically a WIP but it's out there.. :]

But anyways, if you're gonna go with what I do, which is use most of the canon story lines and combine it into one just with a pinch of more creativity and some original stuff, I would suggest developing the canon characters and their settings

Depending on what you wanna make for your au, the canon character could have more personality then it's original

I will have to admit, I have done that with some but I keep it close to what their personality is as possible

What I also like to add to canon characters is their own story! Especially for animal jam when you don't really get the right answers.

A good example of what I mean is Greely's adopted family!

It's not much, it barely impacts the story for Jamaa, but it impacts him and his choices later on when he grows :] which is always fun to do!

Let's see... Another thing to help get an au going is by looking at things that would inspire you!

Like other people's aus, songs, even books, hell even the canon stuff might help out!

There is a lot of "canon" animal jam stuff that a lot of people don't really know about like the comics and books for animal jam!

And yeah, there's not a lot of animal jam aus but I have seen some around here and there! Best ones I would look into art pieces for is @bootleggreely , @prztails , and @vioblu-star, they're all really cool artists with interesting stories for animal jam stuff :]

(probably forgetting a whole bunch but yet I wrote this at like 2 am)

Then there's music/songs, the reason why I mentioned such is because it helps me create a scenario in my head when I listen to them! It even help me discover some new ideas I barely knew I could develop!

Another thing to keep in mind is that you don't really have to go all the way with aus, take your time!! It helps a lot, even when you feel stressed over it. Take breaks, you don't always need to focus on animal jam stuff for the au! You don't even need to make a whole book for it, you can just do what I most of the time do and just draw out stuff you like from your stories so far! Even if people don't know the full context!!

Change is always good too! Let me tell you, when I was younger in my animal jam little brain, I had such a mess of a story, now look where it is now! A bit better!

But let's give little me around of applause for predicting Moku'ahi 👏 (this thought still scars me)

Ooo and another thing, if you ever feel doubt in yourself with writing for the au, don't worry about it! You're doing great, but if you want a second opinion or two, ask for it! I'm sure people around you would provide answers if they know animal jam and care about some of the story :] it's always okay to ask for help! Don't be like me who hides in the corner and just writes and draws a lot 🌟

At the end of the day, this is your au, your story, your art pieces, your fun

Enjoy it and always be creative :]

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Hey, Paintbrush here!

Recently noticed that a few others at Hotel OJ have made some tumblr blogs, so I decided to as well! Welcome to my blog, all :)

I'm Paintbrush (they/them) and I've competed on three seasons of Inanimate Insanity! Season three just ended and I've just been chilling at Hotel OJ for a while. Not doing much else, so I'll probably be answering asks frequently.

DISCLAIMER: this ask blog has (unintentionally) become an au

if you want to get the full context, feel free to scroll down certain lore tags or check out the archive! -mod

Tags of interest:

#painty yapping: Paintbrush answering asks, sometimes used for reblog convos

#painty posting: explained here!

#misc asks: Asks that don't particularly have anything to do with a plot line

#bristle blather: Asks or convos specifically related to Paintbrush's bristles

#burnt-out brush: Posts where Paintbrush aint doing so hot... also includes the mini arc where Painty ran away and Backgroundy temporarily took over answering

#magic anon: Temporary events that can be applied on the blog

#rough sketch duo: Posts that feature both Paintbrush and Animatic (from Animatic Battle), Animatic usually played by @animaticaskblog

#backgroundy: A character introduced through a magic anon event, backgroundy is a friendly face on the wall that occasionally shows up on this blog. ....or are they? friendly i mean. backgroundy clearly has a lot to hide, and becomes quite defensive upon being asked about their past

#torch/inner flame: angry paintbrush? wrong! a completely separate character!! torch is a secretive and smooth-talking individual that possesses paintbrush at seemingly random times. also narrates paintbrush's actions

#flooding memories chronicles: Posts taking a dive into Backgroundy's obscure past!

#rediscovering fire chronicles: Paintbrush has an inner flame now. WHAT!!! oh just kidding theyre just possessed. hi torch!! whats your backstory?

#false contract chronicles: AAAAAA SPRINGYS HERE HES GONNA HIRE US ALL AAAA

#painty yapping and yapping: posts where Paintbrush rambles for an extended amount of time, usually not dialogue

#animaticified saga: paintbrush gets ab animaticified. that's it

#art imitates life chronicles: paintbrushs past wasnt ALL sunshine and rainbows... if only they knew what happened!

#backfire arc: paintbrush makes a terrible no good absolutely horrible bad decision. they suffer the consequences accordingly!

#still waters runs deep chronicles: torch and backgroundy FINALLY talk things over like civilized adults

#history repeats itself chronicles: another life has been created via m!a,,,, waow

#mod kit: Posts from the mod! me!!

hey, mod here! (vortex, he/they/she)

there are a few things id like to mention:

this is my first ask blog. in the history of EVER!! so pls be patient with me

dont plan on including ships on this blog! but i dont mind ship-related asks ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ please just dont be weird or mention proships

like i said, dont be weird in the asks! please no nsfw or fetish-y asks either

dont be an asshole pretty please- i dont mind jokes and sarcasm but if ur only here to be a haterade pls leave 🥺

yall can do magic anons if you want! please try not to send too many tho 😁

i made the paintbrush asset myself! pls dont use it or steal it :')

i may not answer asks immediately so please be patient and dont spam or pressure me into answering! i may ignore and refuse to answer any asks if im uncomfortable as well

keep in mind some of what i say may be personal headcanons or made up on the spot! ill stick to canon as much as possible but if theres an opportunity to add a headcanon, ill likely do so

thanks for reading!

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unnatural bleeding

merfolk au!

previous <- part 3 -> next

parings: gaz x reader

chars: gaz, price , soap , ghost

tws: blood, injuries, violence, past abuse, language, slow burn, rude reader.

tags; @chickennn-soupp @cassiecasluciluce @sans-chara @lethargicluv

a/n; hehehehemuahauahahahahaa (also realized the abuse tw doesnt rlly apply much its more like past abuse then current so ill fix that.) also i dont believe in proofreading (im lazy) also im not good at dialogue or sticking to povs....:(

The mer was in horrible condition by the time they had located them, Sightings from swimmers, surfers, and divers anyone that could have briefly seen them.

They had finally got a lead and the team was off, It didn't take but a couple of hours to find the injured Mer it didn't seem to disturbed at our presence yet till of course it seemed to notice us finally starting to swim away.

Susan one of our head researchers loading the tranquilizer gun as we prepared things around the boat, From what he could see the mer seemed to be in worse condition on the skinnier side and scarred beyond thought possible glimpse of sunburn scars also confused him.

"Where'd ya even find da' poor ol' sap like that Gaz?"

"Around the dock was on a break..nearly thought it was a corpse till it swam away."

"Creepy.."

He nodded sighing as they started up the boat again steering themself to be on line with the mer that must of noticed they were being followed they had started at a quicker pace of swimming which no doubt was hurting there injuries even worse pulling up beside them with the both allowing Susan to take proper aim.

A first hit there tail fin when they tried to quickly surface for air which sent them into a panic he felt anxious they would get away as they got another dart ready

They seemed to feeling the dart in full effect as they tried to shake the dart off there struggles gradually weakening when Susan had already reloaded getting a good shot on there back as the mer tried to dive deeper.

Recovering there now unconscious form had been relatively easy they were on the small size of Orca mer as they were laid on the boat heading course back to the facility as the medics on board got to work with patching up some of there injuries some would need surgery to be properly stitched up and fully sanitized.

He sighed as he looked over the mer sighing as he gave a gently pat to it's tail it hurt him to see them in such a state.

"As far as our examination goes we can't get a definite age but they are a full adult, There underweight so slipping in supplements and more high fat content in there food is a must.." A medic would explain as they both watched the Orcas surgery from behind glass.

"A lot of there wounds were infected but in the early stages so recovery from them might be a easy enough process.."

"You think there wounds are the cause of them being underweight?"

"We don't think so the wounds would be much more infected than they were now if it had been from a while back.."

Gaz sighed as he shifted.

"I'll go talk with Price-"

He turned heading out as he started down the hall.

He always thought this place needed some decorations besides the main lobby and a few other rooms the hallways were bare made the place feel more sterile and void always made him shiver or maybe it was the cool A/C that the old man was so stubborn about.

It didn't take him long to reach Price around the pool area.

"Garrick, How'd it go?"

"Better than expecting there gonna be leavin' to the rehab pools soon enough..You think they'll be big enough?"

"Pretty sure we've handle Mer's bigger than em' right?"

Gaz nodded, "There pretty small mer poor thing's underweight and got a infection'"

Price hummed as he picked up what he was working on before Gaz came in.

"You heard about Shadow's Shore getting a bunch of there 'attractions' stolen?"

Shadow's Shore, God those bastards they were notorious for kidnapping or even killing merfolk for sport.

The merfolk they kidnapped were usually children easiest to grab and place into there tanks treated no more than a mindless creature they usually didn't live there entire lifespans which was still unknown for most merfolk due to people like Shadow's Shore taking them while there young just for them to die barely even adults.

Video's from the place made his blood boil forced to do tricks, Getting treats as if they were a dogs, And god that annoying baby talk.

Merfolk were basically on the same intelligence level as human even rumored to have there own general language and species specific language yet laws in a lot of places refused to see them as such allowing Shadow Shore to stay open for the money it brought in.

The merfolk that were hunted were treated like trophy kills let out into small pools where they where shot and held up to pose with the person who paid to kill them.

Gaz shivered he still remember that video that was quickly covered up by the press, That poor mer crawling desperately out of the pool trying to get away so many arrows sticking out it.

Gaz quickly shook himself out of that thought focusing back in front of him.

"Really? fuckers would of deserved it..What'd made you bring this up?"

"They lost a few of there Orca Mer's"

a/n; cutting this short here cuz its literally 1 am as i finish this part off LMAO if this isnt as good as the other ones blame 1 am kron 🫠 also loreee ! loreee! some background info into this world :))))

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Okay so for OC ask game - Hanh/Kenny 👀

97, 59, 28 !!! I’m intrigued 🏃‍♀️

Oh oh, another Hanh/Kenny ask!

97. How do they wake their S/O up? Is it difficult to rouse them?

Mmm I think out of the two, Kenny’s the heavier sleeper. Hanh would probably try and wake him up in the least disruptive way possible: shaking his arm lightly, nudging him, and repeating “hey, hey wake up, sleepyhead” and other pet names. If he’s sleeping SUPER soundly, she’ll just lean in super close until he stirs awake and he gets a face full of fisheye lens action ALJFDSHKVLJ it’s the funniest thing to them and they both laugh about it. The laughing usually wakes him up after that.

While Hanh falls asleep easily, it’s just as easy to wake her up. If Kenny’s the one to wake up before her, he doesn’t have the heart to tell her to wake up. He’ll get out of bed as quietly as he can and go about his business. If it’s been too long though, he takes the long, guilty, walk back to their bed to wake her up. Usually with a light shake and some comforting words, just like she does.

59. Is there a spot they tend to kiss or caress habitual?

For Hanh, she loves giving kenny cheek kisses! It’s short, cute, and sweet. She also loves kissing any scar that Kenny might have that didn’t manage to disappear in his many deaths. I also mentioned this in the other ask, but Hanh fidgets a lot and makes circles in Kenny’s hand with her thumb.

For Kenny, also cheek kisses! And also just regular old kisses on the lips. Sometimes he’ll lean in and rest his head in the crook of her neck. He also likes holding her cheeks and pinching them.

28. Do they trust one another? Are comfortable discussing their fears with one another?

Oof ok this is a rough one for them. BUCKLE UP, CAUSE THIS IS A LONG ONE!

I think something that would be an issue between the two of them is that Kenny can sometimes get a bit overly protective and controlling. Have you seen the way he acts towards Karen in the Casa Bonita DLC? Or the way he literally built a TIME MACHINE to fix the broship? He has no say or agency when it comes to both his eldritch curse and his dysfunctional home life. But the moment he gets any opportunity at control, he fights tooth and nail for it (WHICH BTW THANKS FOR MANTEQUILLAMCWHOREMICK/HELIOLETI when he showed me this analysis my mind was literally blown, so shout out to him). So yea, the guy defo grows up with control issues. Also, have you seen him in the show??? :( poor guy's always being sidelined, forgotten, or abandoned: when Kyle's about to die and Stan cries over him but not Kenny's death; when he gets outcasted by his friends because he can't a scooter with them for Halloween; not to mention, the fact that NO ONE believes his curse. It wouldn't be a surprise that Kenny feels the need that he has to keep everything to himself, especially when he takes on a caretaker role with Karen. That boy is gonna have a rough time ever showing vulnerability. So, for her own good, he never likes to divulge or dump his problems onto Hanh, especially when he sees how stressed out she gets from the AP classes she takes.

On the flipside, before they even date, Hanh is always trying to get Kenny to open up: asking about his day, how he's feeling, if life at home is good, how Karen is doing, etc. But all he ever responds with is a smile that never quite reaches his eyes. She's always walking the line between wanting him to open up about his problems, but also not wanting to push him to say something he's not comfortable talking about. It's especially hard, because she knows exactly what it's like to be the "therapist" friend, considering how much she's constantly cleaning up after people. Even after the M4 have their "breakup" (in my AU there's a moment where the guys stop being friends), her and Kenny are kind of the "divorced" children of the aftermath, so it made her think that they could at least bond from that, fucked up as it is. But again, there's still that distance that Kenny puts between the two of them, thinking he knows what's best for her.

However, Hanh has a lot of insecurities regarding being seen as inferior to people, stemming from a lot of things but i feel like that one needs its own post jalsfhklj, youd probably need to ask me for more details about that. Kenny never means for it to come off as if he doesn't trust her (which he does trust her, I mean seeing as she's saved their asses countless of times), but Hanh doesn't like that Kenny feels as though he has to hide his issues out of fear that she wouldn't get it. She wants her best friend to be able to rely on her and confide in her, and closing himself off from her robs her from that agency. Hanh's a bit of a hypocrite though, because she does the exact same to Kenny: she's always afraid of complaining or venting to Kenny, because to her, her problems seem inconsequential compared to what Kenny has to go through.

TL;DR, they've got a lot of learning to do, LOL. But they'll get there!!

After some plot and character development, I think he would tell her about his curse, which after some convincing (aka asking something that only he would know if he did die), she does believe him. You could chalk it up to her being naive and gullible, but Kenny doesn't care. It's something he's eternally grateful for.

And while I don't think Hanh would have as much blind loyalty that she does with Kyle, she knows that Kenny is capable. At most, if Kenny's telling her something insane or ask for a huge favor, there'd be a bit of hesitance, but at the end of the day she trusts him.

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Idea! I think I remember seeing somewhere on your blog that Shockwave was a civilian frame amongst the many Warframes on the Decepticon side. Going off of that-and probably going to be angry as heck-but now I can't help but think in your "Con's are good" au, that Shockwave was originally one of the few good Senators who did their best to prevent the worst of the anti-warframe acts from going through. When his support for the Deceptions was found out, he was tortured, empuertad without trial and on false allegations, and left for dead before he was found and rescued.

I mention this because I feel a major turning point for the earthbound Autobot team would be for them to uncover this information. This could also serve as a catalyst for them losing trust in the council entirely. What do you think?

Yeah that does sound like something Shockwave might have experienced in this...

Originally I didn't have much info on his backstory but with your input- yeah I can see him being in the council before everything happened.

He was one of the lower position ones but still had much input on how things turn out. When he first heard of the propaganda and plans to eliminate warframes he tried his best to discreetly change the enforcement of that. Even risking stealing and changing the orders. That unfortunately didn't last long as he was caught with the act and upon discovering the reason, the council automaticaly aligned him with Decepticons and send him off to be empurated and locked away. The council couldn't risk having their reputation dirty so they covered it up with him being assasinated.

While in prison, he took his time to re-evaluate his decisions and goals; he didn't regret one bit of his actions, he only wanted the best for the citizen. He spend years reflecting and making plans for no apparent reason- he never thought he could get out of the prison he himself helped build for most dangerous criminals,.. that he now was a resident of himself.

But fate had it that a Decepticon ship attacked the prison in attempt to get their comrades out. He found himself running with the criminals and by all luck managed to catch a ride. Universe had gived him another chance and he wasn't about to waste it.

He changed his name to Shockwave and managed to consult with Megatron himself about his fate and possible aid in return for support from Decepticons. And thus he began helping them overthrow the council.

He was scared of initiating the plans he offered, but it was the only way- he was gonna climb the ranks under a disguise and be their infiltration. His odd frame type granted him the ability to alter his appearance but with empurata helm it was almost impossible to make it pass... Fortunately for them all there was one femme who specialized in self-taught medicine and frame alterations. Blackarachnia made it so his helm could shift along with his frame and therefore made his alter persona, Longarm.

During infiltration of boot camp, Shockwave met a young minibot- foolish and swayed by the tales of the amazingness of Elite Guard. Shockwave felt bad that such a passionate and high-spirited mech would only be disappointed once he learned the truth. Shockwave was surprisingly young for a senator back in the day, so he understood the excitement Bee had- maybe that's why he became friends with him. When Wasp became to be apparent issue for Bumblebee and the officers weren't doing anything despite several notices, Shockwave decided that enough was enough- he was well aware of the rumors of a spy around the camp. He learned from his mistakes and was far more careful about his actions but still it somehow got out. He used the rumors and crafted a well-suited evidence for Wasp to step right in. It worked and Bee was safe, although this satisfaction didn't last long for he was kicked out for some stupid thing few months later.

Now for some events that I don't know how to put in line of time;

When Shockwave learned about Wasp trying to get revenge on Bee he felt guilty- he should've known that putting Wasp in jail wasn't gonna be a permanent solution but he also hoped that he would be stuck there for longer. He didn't like that Bee had to carry the consequences of his lies which is why whnn he revealed that it was him that put Wasp in jail he tried his best to explain his reasoning. He was lucky that Bee understood where he was coming from and forgave him.

When Shockwave learned that the same minibot he was friends with in boot camp had a relationship with Blitwing he was.. shocked to say the least. For someone who believed in the council's fake good so much it was quite controversial. In the end he was happy that Bee was happy, more so when he acknowledged that Bee was not as foolish as he thought and actually looked into the true side of the council.

When the earth rebellion was forming, it was difficult to get Team Prime to trust Decepticons- Shockwave has decided that if they were gonna help them they need to know what the council was capable of and shared his story. He watched their expressions shift to shock and disgust as he described the punishment for simply not wanting a war. The sad part about it is that Optimus actually met Shockwave before all this... As brief as it was, Op saw the mech Shockwave used to be and it pained him to see the same happy mech turned into a bittersweer avenger of the council's victims. It was what pulled the final straw and caused the rebellion to solidify.

That's all for now, thank you for the ask and sorry for the long wait!

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