Now this, this is the show I want to watch: casual co-parenting in the apocalypse. The Next World is probably my favorite episode ever. It’s bookended by two perfect Richonne scenes, starting with this one, which serves to effectively reset the narrative after Carl’s near fatal gunshot wound. If you were anticipating dramatic aftermath, tough luck! We got ourselves some heavy domesticity instead! What a timely reminder to us all of how slight the shift will be when Richonne becomes official. In about… ooh, 40 minutes. Set your watches.
Michonne’s never been more relaxed onscreen than in this moment, robe-clad and grinning away as she rolls her head from Rick to Carl. (And just look at the way she watches Rick with Judith in the eighth gif.) Likewise, Rick is in embarrassing dad mode without a care in the world. We see two people who are exactly where they’re supposed to be. She even says to him, in some high-key flirting, “You be good out there.” The sweet little hand touch as they walk away reminds me of tennis doubles players between points; they don’t need to stop and check in with each other – they’re on the same page without words. And for one playful extra detail, as if to support my unnecessary tennis analogy, the ball gets passed back to Michonne just at the very last second. It’s in her court now.
Danai: The bonding of [almost losing Carl in No Way Out] and the fact they have a newly formed life now — it’s two months later, they get Carl back, and they’re able to rebuild Alexandria. Rick transformed as well. He’s able to take on all that Deanna used to say and that Michonne would encourage him to believe — to come to Alexandria and consider himself one of these people. He’s now much more hopeful and I think that’s something that appeals to Michonne as well. They’re in a place where they can actually allow their hearts to express themselves. Things are stable and better, they have a new lease on life.
Andy: It makes complete sense. It was that sort of domesticated, familial relaxation between old friends.
A/n: I’ve never tried writing for Jonathan or any Stranger Things character before so I’m open to any criticism or feedback you have!
Being good friends with the friendly neighborhood outcast was always an interesting time, even if you weren’t particularly well known in the student body either. Most of that being thanks to the fact that you spent almost all of your free time in the library, and when you weren’t there you could most likely be found at home, painting or tending to your plants.
But it wasn’t that people didn’t like you either, they just didn’t particularly know you very well, but the ones that did were incredibly fond of you. One of them being Steve Harrington. He was the closest you could call a friend among his own group, he was one of the few who didn’t constantly ask you for with history or english homework or if you knew the best possible way to grow roses for an upcoming anniversary.
That being said, Steve still wasn’t your only close friend, the other Jonathan Byers, the infamous outcast mentioned earlier. You’d had known him for over two years and in that time you two got to know and understand one another. He preferred to observe people from angle that was less warped by personal perspective, thus why he was constantly taking pictures, they only showed the truth about people.
And your reasons were a little less poetic. You just would rather spend your time with your books and plants as opposed to the usual pleasantries that was expected of the average teenager. The two of you had a mutual understanding of one another, and thus a friendship was formed.
Though as time passed, the lines began to blur between companionship and deeper affection for Jonathan, though it wasn’t really a surprise for him. He’d never had someone in his life who understood him so well, apart from his brother but even then there were some things that made it seem you were the only one whom he could talk to of.
However, his shy and more reserved nature made it more of a problem to confront his feelings for you, so he instead preferred to admire from afar and keep it to himself until he had more confirmation about how you felt him.
And while he knew he was more obvious in his fondness for you, as his mother so kindly pointed out one day after you had left his house one day when you had come over as always until your parents would return from work.
“So have you told her yet?” Joyce asked him as she leaned against the kitchen counter.
Jonathan looked from the small pile of polaroids that he had in front of him. “I don’t know what you mean?”
Joyce held back the laugh and strolled over to the dining table and plucking one of the photos from it’s spot before Jonathan could move it away from her. She flipped it over and with a triumphant smiled she showed the photo to him, a candid of you pouring over a History textbook while your reading glasses slowly descended down the bridge of your nose.
“Are you sure about that?” Joyce mused.
Jonathan quickly felt the heat crawl up the back of his neck and it slowly made it’s way to his cheeks as he quickly took the photo from his mother and hiding it away from her. “It was a nice angle.” He mumbled quietly.
Enjoying the newfound embarrassment she was bringing to him. Joyce’s eyes swept across the other photo’s he was trying to hide with his arms. “Really? Is that why you took six of them?” She said with a profound amount of amusement in her tone, only meaning to tease him.
“Please don’t say anything?” He asked helplessly.
Joyce shook her head and crossed her heart. “Not a word.”
“Oh damn.” You said as you scavenged through your bag for your scarf, letting out an annoyed sigh once you realized it wasn’t there. “So much for that.”
“Here.” Jonathan said, taking off his own jacket and placing it on you. “You can borrow mine, I’m not that cold anyways.”
You laughed after he put it on. “No kidding, this is like an oven here.” You said looking over at him with a grin. “You know you’re pretty warm.”
Jonathan smiled and looked down at the gravel. “Yeah, Will tells me the same thing every time I let him wear it too.”
“How is he anyways? Still holding up fine?” You asked him curiously. You had only met Will a few times, anytime you were over at the Byers he was at the Wheeler’s. And during the whole ordeal whenever he was missing you were out of town, and you only received minimal details of what had happened. That being said you were extremely fond of the kid and he looked up to you because of your mutual love for science and art.
Jonathan looked sideways for a second, seeing the genuine look on your face made him feel all warm in his chest. “He’s doing fine, thanks.” He told you, looking up at meeting your eyes for a second before he looked shyly back at the ground. “You know I’ve been meaning to-”
Steve’s voice came calling from the front of the school doors and both you and Jonathan turned to find him coming out of the library doors and jogging up to where you were.
He pulled a bundle of bright red fabric from behind his back and shot you a wide smile. “You almost forgot this.” He said, handing it out for you.
“Oh thank you! I was just gonna get it from the lost and found tomorrow.” You told him, wrapping the scarf around your hands.
Steve shot you a wink and saluted. “Not a problem, I’m always here to help a damsel in distress.”
The two of you shared a laugh before you waved him off, turning to find Jonathan looking pointedly at the ground. “I didn’t know you were with Steve.”
You sighed, knowing the history the two of them had. “He wanted a little extra help with the English assignment and I offered him some help.”
You played with the ends of your scarf for a few seconds before walking up to him and wrapping it around his neck. “Don’t be cross with me, he’s just a friend.”
Jonathan’s eyes fixated themselves on the sudden color around his neck and he smiled. “I’m not mad.” He assured.
“Good! Now come on, I wanna go say hello to your mom.”
“Fine, I’m keeping the scarf though, I think the color suits me better.”
You curse under your breath as you pull your hand away from 10k’s boiling forehead, fairly certain he’s contracted some kind of flu.
He’s breathing easily enough for now, but the slight crackle from his chest when he inhales and the way he keeps wincing in his sleep tells you it’s only getting worse from here.
Feeling Doc gently nudge you, you turn slightly to take some painkillers from him, trying not to drop them as the truck hits a pothole.
“How’s the kid holdin’ up?” He whispers, so as not to wake him.
You shrug, looking apologetically at the sweet old man.
It’s about an hour later when you’re staring at your shoes that from your position in the truck bed you can see what looks like a gated community a ways up the road and you silently thank whatever holy power you can think of.
“He’ll be much better when he’s in a nice comfy bed.” You look to Doc and nod in affirmation, just as much for your own piece of mind as for his.
Upon finding the community almost completely abandoned save a few Z’s, Warren gives the go ahead to start setting up inside the furthest house back, choosing to drive the truck around behind it in an effort to shield the vehicle from the road, and you’ve just folded down the back of the truck bed when you feel a warm hand on your arm. Vasquez stands to your side as awkwardly as you’d assume before motioning to the very sick, surprisingly heavy boy.
“I’ll help you get him out but you gotta get him up.”
You nod gratefully in response to his proposition, hopping into the bed and placing your hand on 10k’s.
“C’mon Ten Thousand, there’s a bed, a glass of water and some painkillers waiting for you.” You say, shaking his arm.
He’s up almost immediately (albeit unsteadily) at the word ‘bed’, allowing you to help him slide out of the truck as Vasquez moves to put the boy’s arm around his shoulders, helping the raven haired sniper inside the unsurprisingly spotless house.
You follow close behind until you hit the kitchen, splitting away from 10k and Vasquez to fetch a tea-towel and a bowl of cold water, running into a very tired Addy on the way.
“Addy, please go get some rest, you look knackered.” You utter quietly as you fill the bowl at the faucet. She just nods with a small smile, giving you a quick hug which you return happily before pointing her in the direction of a bedroom.
By the time you get to 10k’s room Vasquez has helped him out of his shoes, socks, vest and goggles and he’s lying on top of the covers as the older man keeps a weary eye on him.
Noticing you, he takes his leave, nodding in response to the quick ‘thank you’ you send his way.
You sit gingerly on the bed next to 10k and set the bowl and towel on the side table before gently removing his bandana and standing in order to help him under the covers.
He blearily opens his eyes when you nudge him into a sitting position and place the painkillers Doc had given you in his hand accompanied by the promised glass of water.
“Warren says we’re staying here until you’re better, so take all the time you need and we’ll work on breaking your fever, okay?”
He nods as he swallows his medicine and you reach over to dip the tea-towel into the bowl, placing the damp cloth on his forehead as he lays back down.
“Is there anything else you need?” You ask as his eyes slip shut again and he nods once more before pulling you under the covers with him.
“Thank you.” He mumbles, arm winding around your waist as he snuggles you against his side.
It’s then you decide that even though he may be contagious, this is very much worth getting sick for.
Spending time with Sera in the tavern is one of Freyja’s favourite hobbies. She often stays late and then has to make her way back to her quarters in pitch black. It’s usually not a problem, she’s not scared of the dark or anything, but…
This time, she’s still giggling at an inside joke as she’s walking towards the long flight of stairs. There’s not a whole lot happening at such late hour, and yet she’s distracted enough not to notice someone approaching her, only when it’s too late. The stranger’s hands cover her eyes, their body presses against her back.
She can feel the warmth of the person’s breath on her ear, and before they could start talking, her reflexes kick in, pinning him to the ground in a matter of seconds. It’s only as she holds the prankster’s wrists pressed down into the mud when she realises she knows the person.
“Damn, you’re good at this,” Cenred says, laughing, but his eyebrows are furrowed in what seems like pain.
Freyja lets go of him and gets back on her feet, offering a helping hand to her lover. “You are such an asshole, Trevelyan.”
The man accepts the gesture, letting Freyja pull him up. “Me?” he asks, still grinning. “You are the one who just broke my ribs!”
“Oh, don’t be a child, you’re fine.” With a roll of her eyes, the elf continues walking. “I didn’t throw you that hard.”
“I still believe you should take a look at it, my lady.”
A smile tugs at the corners of Freyja’s mouth, but she doesn’t turn to face Cenred. She doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he made her smile.
“But I am no healer, my lord,” she says, deciding to go along with his game.
“Then how come those delicate hands of yours have helped me recover so many times before?”
Cenred spins Freyja around so that she’s looking at him - the first thing she notices is his grin, and she lets go of her serious expression as well. The small woman reaches up to run her fingers through Cenred’s hair, breaking the silver shine the moonlight casts on the strands.
Chuckling, Freyja asks, “Where is all this cheekiness coming from, vhenan?”
The man’s answer is a simple shrug. Buying himself some time to think of words to say, he takes a step closer to the elf, two fingers placed under her chin, tilting her head up.
“It is only your doing, my love,” he whispers, his lips almost touching Freyja’s. “It is the effect you have on me.”
The woman smiles widely as she gives Cenred the quickest kiss. “I quite like it,” she announces. “I hope it never changes.”
I’ve been a bit absent the last few days because I’m occupied with lots of stuff but I just thought, why not share some of what I’m working on? Like this piece of low poly art of the Roman emperor Augustus. Clearly I have too much time on my hands. (I’m not a graphic designer. I should be doing other things.)
This isn’t finished but it’ll be for an academic poster presentation of a friend who’ll talk about the effect of the imperial (corporal) presence and absence in the courtroom. So that aspect of the emperor being an institutional entity as well as a person was kind of what I was trying to get at.
rule 63!Wadda whose sprite needs updating IMO, my design of Tosatsu-ouji [ gonna post the a real reference of the design soon ( ; v ; ) ]screw the design above I made a new one and the two forms of Tsumiko-ouji, nanasenanako’s design and my canon rule 63!Mikotsu of choice (see note below). Credit goes to Mogeko of course !
Design notes for Tosatsuhime and plans I’m genuinely surprised people can see this. For those who still see this post, surprises under the cut !