#I had a lot of fun with those first two panels

[catsharky]

Create cool summer treats for your vampire with this one neat trick

[vargaslovinghours]

Say it like you mean it

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch.3 domestic encounters

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, mild love triangle(s), gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 3/x (probably 10)

ᰔ word count. 14.1k (i like this number)

a/n. hello hellooo my ihm bb's :'') so good to see you all again. so this is actually the first half of an original 26k word chapter 3 that i had written lmfaooo i genuinely entertained the idea of posting a 26k word chapter but like gat damn. idk i thought it would be too much. so there is this first part which is 14k and then the next chapter will be 12k! anywho, this chapter was fun to write, there's still a lot of set-up tho hahah. ihm has been really fun to write for me cuz it's kinda chaotic but chill at the same time lol :0 i really hope you enjoy!! see ya at the bottom!!

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“Soooo…..ready to consummate the marriage?”

You turn fast on your heel, so fast that Gojo almost trips over his own Welcome mat at his doorstep in an attempt to not accidentally topple over you, which you’re sure by the sheer size he has on you would’ve killed you or at the very least paralyzed you from the neck down, so it’s a good thing his hands fly out of his pockets then brace himself on the wood paneling above the door. 

“Wha–” you stutter, “what?!”

He stands up straight before leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms, the sleeve fabric of his suit stretching across thick muscle but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking. “The marriage technically isn’t valid unless we consummate it.”

You roll your eyes and dig your finger into your heel to take it off and then do the same with your other, relishing in the freedom of your feet from the shackles of constrictive feminine clothing articles, although you’re a solid two and a half inches shorter again. “I would rather make love to one of those inflatable balloon salesmen at car dealerships that flail and flap around in the wind than let you touch me for the purpose of sex.”

“Fuck that’s harsh,” he laughs, like he’s genuinely impressed by the comeback this time, “so a dead bedroom then, huh?”

“Can’t be dead if it was never alive in the first place,” you mumble as you tread into his house and toss the documents envelope you had been holding onto the coffee table. You hear Gojo make his way across the hardwood floor behind you paired with the metal clanking of keys as he throws them into the paper mache bowl on the foyer table. 

“By the way,” you hear him say, and you turn your torso slightly to side eye him only to see that he’s casually taking his suit jacket off with a flip of it backwards, “who was that guy in the courtroom that was glaring daggers into my soul?”

Your eyes widen briefly. And then you sigh. “My ex.”

He pulls the jacket off behind him by the sleeves and tosses it onto the loveseat. “Huhhh. You used to date a cop? You don’t seem like the type.”

“What?” you say as you face him fully. He’s loosening his tie now with a tug. “Why not?”

“You’re kinda…delinquent. Figured a cop would like a more ‘docile’ woman,” he says.

“You sound creepy as fuck,” you say, grimacing a little as you narrow your eyes at him.

He sighs before tossing his tie off to the side as well. “I don’t agree with it. I’m just getting into their headspace. Everyone knows how cops are. Y’know, controlling.”

“Choso is different,” you immediately spat back at him, before your head can even run the words through a filter, and you realize it came off as defensive. Your cheeks warm, because now it looks like you’re not over your ex. And you want to be. Why were you still protecting Choso’s dignity?

Gojo blinks at you, a little surprised before he swallows slowly and he holds his hands up in front of him in surrender. “Alright. I believe you.”

You turn away from him and worry your bottom lip between your teeth, feeling awkward before you scratch your elbow and then turn back to face him again. “Well. If you run into him around town,” you say, “can you try to make him feel emasculated and jealous? He did me dirty.”

Gojo runs a hand through his hair. “Uhhh. How?”

“I dunno,” you shrug, “brag about how great our sex life is or something.”

“But we have a sexless marriage.”

“Oh, yes, speaking of this sexless marriage,” you start, jutting your hip out to the side as you cross your arms sternly, “there are some ground rules that need to be set between you and I.” You point between the two of you.

“Ground rules?” he mimics after you as he undoes the top couple buttons of his white dress shirt, “like what?”

You hold a finger up. “Like no touching.” You hold another finger up. “Obviously, no sex.” You hold another finger up. “No sneaking into my room in the middle of the night.” You hold another finger up. “No peeping in on me while I’m showering.” You hold another finger up. “No ogling me around the hou–”

“These rules sound incredibly one-sided,” he snorts. 

“Yeah, well, don’t break them, you creep.”

“And if I catch you ogling me around the house?” he asks. 

You roll your eyes. “Such a thing will not happen.”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” he sarcastically affirms, and he approaches you which makes you flinch a little but you realize he’s just walking past you towards the living room.

“Y–” you stutter, “you heard me, right? Once I start living here, you have to adhere to these rules.”

He waves his hand in the air dismissively with his back facing you. “Yes ma’am.”

Your eye twitches slightly, and you storm towards him only to watch him slump down onto his couch, knees spread wide as he leans forward with a small grunt to grab the remote off the coffee table before settling back again. He lays an arm up and stretched across the backrest of the couch before he turns the TV on and scrolls through news channels. 

You make your way in front of him, obstructing the view of the TV, and he leans off to the side to try to catch a glimpse at the screen but you reposition your body so that he still can’t see it. His eyes slowly move to you and he has an irritated look on his face. 

“I’m tryna watch CNN,” he says. 

“Punishment,” you say, “for breaking any of these rules will be severe.”

He raises an eyebrow, interested all of a sudden as he tosses the remote back onto the coffee table and leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “Oh? What’s the punishment?”

Honestly, you don’t know. You just want to threaten him to keep him in line. Forget the fact that he’s the one doing you the favor here with this marital arrangement, and yet you’re threatening him. But it has to be done. “You don’t want to find out,” you say, trying to sound as eerie as possible.

“Not knowing what it is makes me want to find out,” he tells you, his knee swaying side to side like a dog wagging its tail. 

You briefly glance down, and for fucks sake why is all of his clothing so perfectly fit and stretched taut whenever he does anything? You try not to eye the shape of his thighs as the black fabric stretches while he’s seated.

You clench your fists at your side, worry your bottom lip under your front teeth, furrow your brow and blink rapidly from not being able to come up with something to say, and Gojo seems to read this as worry before he laughs a little.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’m not gonna break any of your silly rules, despite how tempting it might sound to me.”

“I don’t believe you,” you mutter as you walk around the couch towards the kitchen, feeling thirsty all of a sudden. 

“Seriously. I won’t. You’re not my type,” he says from behind you on the couch, with a tone that tells you he’s trying to sound reassuring but it really just pisses you off even more, “I don’t really go after women with daddy issues.”

“Wha–” you gasp, offended, and you spin on your heel to glare at the back of his head. “Who the fuck said I have daddy issues?!?!”

“No one has to say it, I can feel it,” he says as he continues to click through channels.

You pick an avocado up out of the pile of fruits from the bowl at the center of the island, holding it over your shoulder to charge up as much kinetic energy as possible so you can chuck it at him hard enough to knock him unconscious, and it’s like he senses the malice radiating off of your body because he looks over his shoulder at you.

“What’s that in your hand?” he asks.

“A grenade,” you say, “that I’m gonna launch at you.”

“Oh, thank god,” he exhales in relief, “I almost thought it was an avocado for a second.”

You deadpan stare at him. “I don't find you funny.”

“I think I’m pretty funny,” he says mindlessly, like he’s just arguing with you for the sake of arguing.

“No. I have never once laughed at a single thing you’ve ever said. Only grimaced with disgust,” you say.

He sighs. “Look at us. We’ve barely been married for an hour and we’re already fighting.”

You abandon your empty glass on the counter, shuffling around the corner towards the front entrance of the house because you can feel the headache from your pure annoyance starting to creep up on you. You sense Gojo’s eyes on you from the couch as you shove your feet back into the uncomfortableness of your heels. 

“Where are you going?” he asks. 

“Back to my house,” you grumble, wobbling a little when you take a step towards the door and place your hand on the handle.

“When are you gonna move in?” he asks suddenly.

You freeze in your tracks at his question. You’ve never heard the question before, because you’ve never had the chance to live anywhere that wasn’t your childhood home next door. So the question is jarring at best, and threatens to make you cry a little at worst. 

“Once I get my mom into hospice,” you say, quiet enough to where it’s possible he might not have even been able to hear it over the sound of presidential election updates. And then you make your way out of his house. 

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

It’s a beautiful sunny spring morning, clouds trailing by across the sky offering momentary relief from the heat reaching the pavement, and you’ve got a good marching band walk going on as you stroll down the sidewalk of your neighborhood for your morning walk. Well, that phrase implies that you go on morning walks often. You really don’t, you very rarely have the time or energy. But today you decided it was time to turn your life around (your running shoes will see you same time next month). 

You hear some commotion off at the right side of the street, and when you lift your head up a little to clear the obstructed view of your sun visor, you see a couple of cops standing on a lawn, chatting up your elderly women neighbors with their laughter bolstering in the air. One of the cops turns around, making eye contact with you, and—  of fucking course, it’s Choso.

“Oh, fuck me,” you mutter under your breath and try to walk faster down the sidewalk in Korean ahjumma style. 

“Hey! y/n! Wait!” you hear him call out and he jogs across the street to catch up with you.

You continue to military march down pavement. “What do you want, Choso? Why are you stalking me?”

He runs up in front of you to stop you in your tracks. You frown at him and cross your arms across your chest. “I’m not stalking you,” he says, “I got a call about a stray dog out here.”

“Oh. Wonderful. So glad to know our officers are keeping us safe from cute street dogs,” you say, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“The dog had rabies. It bit an old man. Had to put it down,” he deadpans.

“O-Oh,” you stutter, cheeks flushing, “well, then, leave? Your job here is done.”

“I just—” he starts, “I want to—” He sighs, looking flustered like he��s trying to gain some sort of courage. And you’re almost entirely certain he didn’t need to garner this much courage to face a rabid dog than he seems to be needing for you. “I, uh, I want to meet your husband.”

“W-What??” you exasperate.

“To say congrats,” he says, but through gritted teeth.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah fucking right. You just wanna abuse your po-po powers to arrest him then throw him into jail then kill him to leave me widowed so that I’ll get back together with you and make a fool out of myself all over again.”

“Your capacity for catastrophization never fails to amaze me,” he says.

You’re pretty sure your therapist said something similar to you last week, too. 

“Ahhh!! y/n!!” you hear a familiar feminine voice call from down the street, and both you and Choso turn your heads toward the source of the sound.

Amaya, your neighbor, who is roughly thirty-weeks pregnant at the moment and therefore waddling down the street to get to you, is waving her arms in the air as her husband as well as another one of your neighbors follows after her. She finally reaches you and takes your hands into hers. “I haven’t seen you in forever!! How’s your mom doing?”

“She’s doing well…just getting by,” you say awkwardly, as Choso’s cop partner also approaches this little group that’s forming here, along with the elderly neighbors that he had been talking to. 

“Doctors taking good care of her?” Amaya’s husband, Ren, asks you with a twisted expression on his face and arms tightly crossed over his chest like he was gonna beat the doctors up if they weren’t. 

“Yes…” you say, “although, I think I’ll be transferring her care to Kaiser.” Oh. Fuck. You should’ve kept that to yourself. Big mouth.

You can feel Choso’s eyes on you as he watches this interaction between you and your neighbors. 

“Oh! That’s interesting,” Amaya says, and as her hands soothe over yours, she feels the bump of the ring on your left hand. She glances down. “H-Huh??? Is this a wedding ring?!”

Choso crosses his arms and tucks his hands under his armpits in your periphery.

“Y…yeeeeesss…” you say awkwardly.

“You’ve finally married?” your elderly neighbors chirp out at the same time.

You shoot them a dirty look over the word finally. “Yes.” Please drop the subject, please drop the subject.

But Amaya has always been the gossipy nosy neighbor. “To who??”

Choso snaps his face to you, intently studying your body language. You take a deep breath.

“I-I didn’t tell you?? I married Satoru!!” you chirp, as if it was a normal thing.

“Ehhh?!” you hear multiple of your neighbors’ voices call out. 

“You married Satoru??? But you hate him!!” Amaya blurts out, her voice loud and echoing down the street of the neighborhood.

“I—” you stammer, ducking your head a little to hide behind your visor, “um, oh, y’know…those feelings just…snuck up on me!”

“Awwww good for youuu,” Amaya coos, and one of your elderly neighbors comes up to you with a cheeky smile to then rubs your arm approvingly, “he’s sooooo handsome, you’re so lucky!!”

Ren lets out a hmph over his wife’s flattery of another man, and you roll your eyes, wanting to put Gojo in his place even in the face of just your neighbors, but then you remember that a loving wife wouldn’t say something like his personality makes him an ugly rat. 

“But when did this happen?” Choso’s partner speaks up, his voice accusatory. Choso hits his partner’s chest vest with the back of his hand, as if to say cut it out.

You feel pissed off at that.

“Oh yeahhh, you and Choso only recently broke up!” Amaya says, pointing between the two of you.

You purse your lips together from the anxiety of this entire conversation. “Three weeks ago. Choso and I broke up three weeks ago,” you say, not even sure why you’re disclosing your personal matters to this group of congregated people, but the peer pressure was damning, and you’re pretty sure silence on this subject in front of your neighbors would only make Choso more suspicious, “and—” you had to get your story straight, “well…within those three weeks, Satoru and I just…got to know each other.”

“Eh?” Ren speaks up. “But he was out of town for two weeks. He only came back a week and a half ago.”

You blink at him.

“Ohhh yes, yes, that’s right, honey,” Amaya agrees with a slow nod in remembrance as she pats her husband's chest, “those chocolates he brought us were from London, right?”

Choso tilts his head at you, giving you a glare with the intent of having you crack under this pressure, because you’ve just been caught in a cold hard lie. More importantly, how the fuck did you not notice that Satoru had been gone for TWO WEEKS??? He was your next door neighbor. You’ve seriously been so damn out of it these days. Also, why the fuck didn’t he get you chocolates from London?!?!?! The fucking snake. 

“A marriage within three weeks is a little odd, no?” Choso’s partner speaks up, but with less of a casual conversation tone and more of a I sense something illegal going on here tone.

“Alright, alright, alright,” Choso sighs, taking a step to stand in front of you. “Let’s all get on with our days. She doesn’t have to share any information she doesn’t want to.”

You blink in surprise at Choso’s words, of which all your neighbors acknowledge albeit slightly reluctantly as they wave goodbye to you and start dispersing back to their homes. Choso’s partner gets some notice through his radio, and he pulls it from the velcro of his chest to speak into it before heading back to their cop car with a slight jog. Once everyone is gone and it’s just you and Choso again, he turns around to face you. His arms are still crossed at his chest while he wears a very skeptical and almost reprimanding look on his face.

“What are you up to, y/n?” he immediately asks you, and you feel goosebumps tickle your skin even in the heat. “I really hope it’s not something fishy. Or illegal.”

You swallow hard. You know the U.S. federal codes in the law for marital & insurance fraud like the back of your hand, since you read through them hundreds of times before deciding if your arrangement with Gojo would be worth it. 8 U.S.C. 1033 and 18 U.S.C. 371 provide for a penalty of up to ten years in prison for insurance fraud. And under that statute, you can also be fined up to $250,000. The best case scenario is that you just have to divorce Gojo, and forfeit your chances of ever recovering from your crippling debt. And while it’s hard to prove marital fraud, Choso had reason for a personal vendetta against you, and he has the resources to launch an investigation. 

“Why would I do something illegal??” you ask, as if to convince him that the possibility was absurd. 

He takes a step closer to you, and your breathing picks up. “People do illegal things all the time,” he says, “for the thrill, out of curiosity,” another step closer, “the most common reason that I’ve seen?” He’s so close to you now that you catch the familiar scent of his skin. “Desperation.”

You catch a small gasp of air from his imposition in your personal space, and finally, your weak legs manage to take you a step back. 

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about here,” you say with a shaky voice.

He raises an eyebrow at you. And then he sighs. “Stay out of trouble.”

Your eye twitches at him, annoyance resurging but you have to bite your tongue for self preservation. Gojo’s words about cops liking more docile women ring in your ears for a brief moment, and you have to physically shake your head to get his voice out of it. 

His partner yells for him from his car, something about a call they got for a robbery downtown, and Choso spares you a warning look before he turns on his heel and jogs back to the car. The sound of police sirens mimic the panic in your beating heart as you watch them speed off down the street and out of sight.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

You pull into your neighborhood at the early hours of the morning, skin feeling dry and eyes feeling heavy with exhaustion as you yank your hospital badge clip off your scrub top to toss onto the passenger seat along with your stethoscope, releasing it from your neck like pulling a noose loose. 

Before your shift last night, you had to take your mom to the hospital because she was have shortness of breath, and her oxygen saturation was low on her pulse oximeter. She’s stable now, it was just yet another flare up of her COPD, but given her other risk factors, the hospitalist admitted her to monitor her overnight and through to the evening today if all goes well. Which meant that you could have the house to yourself for once. It might sound selfish to say, because shouldn’t the more dominant feeling be I hope my mom will be okay, but the reality was that there’s only so much of that worry you can have at a time. It doesn’t mean you’re not thinking of her literally every second of the day. It just means you’re human. 

The weirdest thing about working the night shift is seeing everyone else’s days start while yours is just ending. There’s a bit of satisfaction with it. Like imagining laughing at their faces ha ha! You have to go to work now at seven in the morning, meanwhile I get to sleep! as if working the night shift doesn’t lead to substantially higher rates of cardiovascular disease and other chronic illness, as well as an early death. So who really got the last laugh? Day shift workers. Literally.

It wasn’t something you did because you liked working the night shift. You do it because you get paid a 20% differential for it. And you need all the money you can get right now.

Your brain seems to be working more than usual if you’re able to think about all these things after a shift. Swiftly pulling into the driveway of your home, around the hull of Gojo’s obnoxious boat in the driveway, you get out of your car with your purse hanging from your shoulder and just before you shut the door, you see one of your elderly neighbors waving at you from across the street. You’re pretty sure her name is Margaret, but you’re awful with names. You do remember that she was in the posse of neighbors that were flocking you yesterday and asking you pushy questions about your marriage in the presence of Choso. And your body stiffens a little. 

She tilts her head at you as you stand in your driveway, and you awkwardly glance over at Gojo’s house.

“Oops!” you chirp from across the street, “always forget to pull into the Hubby’s driveway instead! Silly me!!”

You grab your emergency overnight stay bag from the back of your car and hurry over to Gojo’s house, knocking on the door incessantly and ringing the bell so as to not arouse any more suspicion from your neighbors about why two married people aren’t living together. “Forgot my keys!! Hahahhahaha,” you exclaim while your pounding on the door intensifies. You’re sure you're just being paranoid, because why would sweet old lady Margaret (Janice? Patricia?) snitch on you? But you’ve been paranoid all your life. It’s one of your fatal flaws. 

The door opens suddenly, right as you were about to pound harshly once again, and you stop the motion in time to not sock Gojo in the abdomen with your fist. He blinks down at you, his face a little puffy from sleep, his hair shooting out in all different directions, and he scratches at his chest through the thin cotton of his shirt, one he clearly threw on last minute before opening the door considering the fact that he put it on backwards. And inside-out. 

“Huh? y/n?” he mumbles, his voice deep and kind of raspy with sleep, “what are you doing here?”

“Just let me in,” you hiss at him, glancing over your shoulder to your elderly neighbor's lawn for a second, and then duck under his arm that was holding the door open to get inside the house.

You turn around to see him shrug his shoulders and slowly close the door, clearly too tired to deal with the bullshit this early in the AM, and he turns around to face you before leaning back onto the surface. His eyes close, like he’s trying to preserve the sleepy feeling for when he gets back into bed.

“Can I help you?” he says. His head falls back with a small thump to rest on the door.

“I’m going to sleep here for the night. Er, for the day,” you say. “I will move in starting today.”

“Okay,” he easily agrees.

You blink at him. “Um. Show me to my room.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, scratching the back of his neck as he heads for the stairs with the shuffle of his slippers across the hardwood floor. You note that he is very easily malleable and overall smooth brained when he’s sleepy. You try to ignore the fact that you find it kinda cute. 

You follow him up the stairs and he leads you across the loft into a hallway studded with a couple of doors. He opens one of them for you, his head drifting a little like he’s about to fall back asleep. “Here you go,” he says while gesturing inside the bedroom and rubbing his eye with a weakly closed fist, “guest bedroom. Uh, there’s another one near the master too that’s a bit bigger, but this one has a lock on the door. So that I don’t sneak into your room in the middle of the night.”

“Thanks,” you accept and head inside. You set your emergency overnight stay bag on the bed and then turn around to face the door to find Gojo still standing in the frame. He has his hands pushed into the pockets of his pajama pants as he squints at you. 

You feel…a little…nervous? Shy? Who the fuck were you to be shy in front of Gojo? You really don’t give a damn what he thinks about you, since a lion does not concern itself with the opinions of a sheep (you’ve been doing reruns of Game of Thrones this past week), but starting today, you’ll be in his territory, and this whole situation is so domestic that you feel vulnerable in front of him. Like the sheep somehow managed to splay the lion open this time, and now the real you is on display for him. You’re suddenly self conscious of the unruly state of your hair and the stains of IV fluid on your black scrubs and the fact that the allegedly flake-proof mascara you put on at the beginning of your shift has long since flaked all over your cheeks.

“Um. Can you leave?” you say in a small voice.

“Huh?” he responds, like he himself forgot that he was still standing there. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” He lets out a very long exhale. “Make yourself at home.” And then, still facing you, he walks off to the side veeeeeeery slowly until he’s out of sight.

You walk up to the doorframe and peak your head around to the left to see him still standing there.

“Satoru. Stop treating me like I’m some animal at the zoo. Leave.” 

“It’s just so weird seeing you in my house like thi—”

You slam the door on him, your breathing finally slowing down again as your palms lay flat on painted white wood. You move your hand down to the handle, thumb and forefinger lingering on the lock as you look at it for a moment, but ultimately decide against locking it.

The room has a bathroom attached to it which is nice. The bed is a queen size, fitted with light blue and eggshell white sheets, tucked neatly spare for one corner of the bed where the duvet is flipped over. To the left of the bed is a nightstand and to the right is a dresser that looks very new. You take a glance at your reflection in the mirror sitting above it, and let out a small gasp at your less than flattering appearance. 

A five minute shower does you wonders, and you pat yourself dry with a towel that matches the shower curtain. You find one of your floor-length vintage nightgowns, with the long frilly sleeves, after rustling through your overnight stay bag, along with a toothbrush and some moisturizer. 

As you brush your teeth, you pace around the room. There’s a little staggered rack near the window that is lined with plants and the blinds are angled perfectly for sunlight to get through to them. You poke your finger to one of the plant’s soil and notice that it’s damp. Been watered recently. Gojo is a plant guy? He really doesn’t seem the type. Well, actually, he’s pretty vain about his avocado tree. But houseplants were a different story. A whole different trope of person.

After getting ready for bed, you slip into the sheets and lay stiff despite the comfortable mattress as you stare up at the ceiling with the duvet tucked under your arms. It’s bright in the room. Back home, you have blackout curtains, which help you sleep because it blocks out the morning light. Here, you don’t have that. You don’t have your melatonin either. But you do have the exhaustion in your veins, making you blink slowly and slowly until the water in your eyes feels as thick as oil. You’re so tired to the point that you can’t even sleep.

You force your eyes to close anyway. You’ll pretend you’re a queen in a palace, here in a foreign land she has recently conquered under her empire. A daydream that you find doesn’t really help you drift off to sleep. But counting sheep never fails you. 

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

You awake in the afternoon with a headache that pounds at your head like the FBI is trying to infiltrate your own mind. And all you can hear now is the FBI OPEN UP!!! meme as you groan and rub at your temples with one hand while leaning over the bed to pet at the nightstand for your go-to bottle of Tylenol just to–

Pet around at nothing.

“Mm?” you mumble, opening your eyes cautiously before harsh light makes you close them again. But even behind the protection of your eyelids, you’re still very keen on the brightness that finds you in this room. Finally, you’re able to blink the sleepiness away and adjust to the light, and when the blur of your vision subsides, you realize that you’re in a bed that is most definitely not your own. And then you remember.

You spent your first night (well, technically morning and early afternoon), at Gojo’s house.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, balled up fist rubbing at your eyes ferociously as you sit groggy from the sleep that enveloped you so performatively after your shift last night. You can’t even remember coming to his house, which is concerning, since that could mean you forgot to do a lot of other things when coming home. Like changing your clothes, and scrubbing your make-up off. But it seems like habit and routine has saved you, since you glance down and see yourself in one of your nightgowns and your skin doesn’t feel dry.

A loud thud! noise from directly beneath you startles you, jolting some of the sleepiness out of you, and you finally feel inclined to head out the door.

You make it across the loft and to the top of the staircase so you can peer over the railing to the downstairs floor. But from the top, you can’t see anything except for the entry area and the family room, but you assume the sounds you hear are coming from the kitchen, because it sounds like the closing of a fridge and ceramic on marble paired with footsteps on hardwood. Lifting the hem of your nightgown up so you don’t trip over it, you creep down the stairs, diligent in avoiding the 2nd and 7th step (you’ve since learned that they creak a little), and make steady progress in getting to the bottom of the stairwell to then stealthily peak your head around the rail and peer into the kitchen. You only have a view of one side, the long counter strip with the stove and the fridge, but you freeze when you’re met with the sight of a man standing there shirtless pouring orange juice into a coffee mug.

You’re temporarily shocked, your fight of flight immediately kicking in as you clutch the imaginary pearls around your neck in fear…but then…you slowly…find yourself starting to stare. This man’s back is huge, massive really…with tense and defined muscles, expansive smooth lines with ridges that meet bone. His shoulders are broad, rounding down into strong arms that are split with veins. And your eyes trail the way his waist narrows down to his hips, of which gray sweatpants very loosely hang from. Honestly, if the door in the movie Titanic was as large as this man’s back, then maybe Rose AND Jack could have fit on it and survived. (a/n. basically picture this)

And in the middle of your drooling, you realize. That this man. Is. Gojo.

Which should be a relief to you, because if it wasn’t Gojo, and there was just some random man in the house, then you’d have to start looking for a weapon of sorts. But instead you just continue to watch him silently without coming out of your hiding. Shirtless in his own kitchen (a crime, really) as he pours OJ into a black mug (who the fuck drinks juice from a coffee mug). He suddenly turns around to face the island and a small gasp leaves your lips before you duck your head behind the rail to hide yourself from his line of sight, and when you realize you’re in the clear, you slowly peak your head back out.

The sight of his chest and torso nearly knocks you breathless, because why is his skin so smooth…and taut across the defined muscles of his abs, glistening with a sheen you can only guess is a salty layer of sweat. His fringe is damp, sticking to his forehead and the sides of his face, a droplet of sweat rolling down from his temple towards his chin but he uses his bare shoulder to wipe the sweat off before it can get that far. He brings the mug of OJ to his lips and tips it back with a swallow, the thick muscles of his neck rippling and rolling with the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, a singular droplet of orange juice escaping from the corner of his lips, trailing down the vein on his neck and into the territory of his chest. Okay. You were being creepy as fuck right now. He can’t find out that you’re staring at him like this, you’d literally move to a different country if he ever caught you. And yet, for some reason, you just can’t stop either. 

He pulls the mug from his mouth, letting out a large exhale since he literally just gulped it all down in one go. He places his palms flat on the table, slightly distant from one another, as he takes in the sight of his counter, while you take in the sight of the way his biceps bulge and the veins on his thick forearms tense. He looks like he’s contemplating something. And then he shrugs his shoulders slightly before grabbing the carton next to him and chugging straight from it, like whatever he poured himself wasn’t enough to quench the thirst for citrus juice he seems to have after–you can only assume–the workout he just had. 

There’s a deep noise that’s muffled in his throat in the second before he pulls the carton away from his mouth and his eyes glance at something on the floor. You can’t see what it is, but you can see the marvelous shape of his ass through his sweatpants– I mean, you can see him furrow his brow a little and then he’s suddenly crouched down on the floor, ducked behind the island and out of sight, before he mutters something that you think sounds like damn fridge…

You stand on your tiptoes on the last step, trying to peer over the obstructing view of the counter, but you trip over the hem of your nightgown, losing balance and–

–fall straight onto the hardwood in front of you, on all fours. 

“Ah,” you exclaim blandly, and in your periphery, see Gojo suddenly stand up straight from his crouched position.

“y/n?” he calls out from the kitchen, his tone surprised.

“Sorry!” you chirp as you feel embarrassment creeping up on your cheeks, “just, uh, fell down the stairs!”

“What?!?” he exclaims in a panic, and you forgot that most people would panic if someone said that to them. He rushes over to you and gets down on one of his knees to peer at your face, his hand shooting out to grab your upper arm with little delicacy out of concern, and his eyes roam all across you to assess for injuries. “Are you okay??”

“Just!” you chirp as you yank your arm out of his hold, “Peachy!” You’re not able to make eye contact with him as he remains kneeled next to you, but you can’t find yourself able to move either. So you just relish in the ridiculous feeling of being on all fours in your vintage grandma nightgown in front of your shirtless and, breaking news: very hot, fake husband. God you can smell the musk and sweat from him when he’s this close, and it’s sexy. You have to be careful to not just straight up mount him on the floor right now. Much to your aroused dismay. 

“Um,” you squeak out, “can you put a shirt on.”

“Huh?” he looks down at himself, like he forgot he’s half naked. “Oh. Yeah.” He stands up. “Sorry, I’m not really used to having someone in the house anymore,” he says, and his use of the word anymore isn’t lost on you. 

He heads over to the coat closet, pulling a gray sweatshirt that’s a shade darker than his sweatpants off of a coat hanger and then pulling it on over his head. He pulls the hood off, and now his hair looks damp with sweat and sexily ruffled up. And he’s also in a comfy-looking sweatshirt. That was way hotter than being shirtless, for fucks sake. You wonder if he’d reconsider being shirtless again. He’s kneeling down beside you once more, and yes you are still on all fours just staring down at the hardwood floor like an animal paralyzed with fear. 

“Have some decency, please. Especially since I am to start living here from today onwards. I would appreciate modesty around the house,” you say as a tactic of self preservation. “Take note of my attire–appropriately covering all skin.”

“Are you gonna stand up?” he asks you.

“No. I shan't.”

“What? Why not? And why are you talking like that?” 

“It appears I am frozen.”

“Are your knees okay?”

“I believe so.”

He sighs and gets up from his knelt position, then suddenly comes up behind you, bending over to wrap his arms around your waist tightly before picking you up with the same ease in which someone would pick up a plastic lawn chair. You gasp, still retaining your four-legged creature formation, until he shakes it out of you and then sets you back down onto your feet. 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he says with a sigh as he heads back towards the kitchen, and he’s back to crouching down somewhere behind the counter.

You shuffle your feet over to the kitchen and peer over the kitchen island to see that he’s examining the floor in front of the fridge.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He scratches at his eyebrow. “The fridge is leaking again.”

“Oh.”

He clicks something on both sides of the fridge's feet and then grips the corners of its body, pulling it out from the wall with a small grunt leaving his lips. Even with the baggy sweatshirt, you can see the curves of the muscles in his arms as he works. 

You place your elbows on the island and hold your face in your hands as you watch him. “How are you gonna fix it?”

He’s dabbing at the wet hardwood with a very worn out rag to get it dry. “I just have to shut the water valve off for a bit.”

“How do you do that?”

He points over his shoulder with his thumb, and you trace the line of it to the cabinet under the sink. 

“Really? You’re gonna get under the sink?”

He dusts his hands off and tosses the rug off to the side. “Uh-huh.”

“Are you sure you can fix it?”

“Yeah. No problem.”

“How long has this been an issue?”

His gaze flicks to yours briefly before he stands up. “About a week.”

“Don’t you think you should just call someone?”

“What?” He turns to face you and crosses his arms across his chest while raising an eyebrow at you, like you’ve just deeply offended him. “Why the fuck would I call someone for a job I could do myself?”

You tilt your head at him, trying to hide the smirk that threatens to tug at your lips. “Well you said it’s been a whole week.”

“Yeah, I’ve–...I’ve just been busy. So I haven’t had a chance to really take a look at it.”

“Ohhhh okay okay,” you say in a teasingly skeptic tone, poking your tongue to your cheek as it’s getting progressively harder to hide your grin.

“What?” he says to you, impatiently.

“Nothinggg,” you purr, and you watch him with a cheeky look on your face as he glares at you before he disappears off towards the garage.

He comes back with a tool box and you spend some time poking around in it curiously as he grabs a couple of tools before crouching down in front of the sink.

For some reason, you feel shy watching him. Maybe it’s because when he’s laying on his back, the top twenty-percent of him ducked underneath the sink, and he’s working his hands on some pipes that you can’t see, his sweatshirt rides up a little and you can see the very lower part of his torso. And then when he yanks particularly hard on something, it rides up more and you can see his abs tensing and relaxing with almost every breath he takes and every move he makes. You’re just grateful he can’t see you, and the urge to clench your thighs together is almost stronger than your brain’s disposition to convince yourself that he’s not attractive just because you think he’s annoying most of the time. 

“y/n,” he calls out to you from under the sink, and you jump a little. He tilts his head a little so he can make eye contact with you from under. “Can you hand me those slip-joint pliers?”

“I have no idea what that is or where to even begin to know what that is.”

“The pliers that have the serrated edges,” he tries.

“Huh?”

“.........shark with sharp teeth.” 

“Oh! Yes. Yes, of course,” you grab them and then shuffle over to him before crouching down, balancing on your toes, “here you go.”

“Thanks,” he says in a flat tone, slowly taking them from you. 

“You’re welcome!” you chirp. You feel very useful. 

His head disappears back to deep underneath the sink again to work on stuff again. Even though this whole thing is probably just his masculine ego wanting to fix things around the house by himself rather than just call a person that is literally paid to fix these sorts of things, you have to admit that you’re not complaining for getting to watch him do something handy. 

“I’ve just– gotta–” he grunts a little and you hear the creaking of pipes, “tighten this up a bit–” he lets out another gruff noise, his voice strained with effort, and you’re ashamed to say it sounds hot. “Alright!” He pulls himself out from under the sink and stands up back onto his feet with a bounce in his step as he dusts his hands off. “Fixed. For now.”

The fridge starts making a strange whirring noise. You raise an eyebrow at him. He quickly reaches behind it and clicks some button before the eerie whirring stops.

“Okay. Now it’s fixed.”

You give him a very skeptic look. “Sure, Jan.”

“Don’t sure jan me. Trust. It won’t leak anymore.”

“Whatever you say,” you respond before heading back up the stairs to freshen up. 

By the time you go back downstairs, Gojo is nowhere to be found, and you take the opportunity to sit on his couch in the living room to then peruse which streaming services he has on his TV. It isn’t until about ten minutes later that you hear someone coming down the stairs, because he makes no effort to avoid the creaky steps.

You put your elbow up on the couch backrest and twist your torso to look at him. He’s wearing pajama pants and an unmatching black short sleeve cotton T-shirt that’s loose around his torso but tight at the arms. He’s ruffling his hair up with a hand towel, attempting to get it dry from the shower he clearly just took. As he makes his way towards the living room, you catch a waft of the clean soapy aqua fragrance of shampoo lingering in his hair. He stops about four feet behind the couch.

You glance down at his feet. “Why the fuck are you, as a grown ass man, wearing bunny slippers inside the house?”

He opens one eye to glance down at his slippers as he continues to tousle his hair dry, “oh, Juno got them for me for Christmas last year. She wanted me to wear them ‘all the time or else uncle toru’s feet will burn off from the floor lava.”

A small smile makes its way onto your face. 

Juno is Gojo’s five-year-old niece, and from the interactions you’ve seen between them, and from the way My Little Pony was the first thing that popped up when you turned the TV on, you know that Gojo absolutely adores her and vice versa. You’ve met her a couple times, even babysat her once in an emergency, and she’s a cute and bright little kid that you certainly have way more fondness for than her obnoxiously annoying uncle who is also now your fake husband. Wait, does that mean that Juno is your niece now, too?

Gojo lets out a sigh before hanging the towel over his shoulder, his hair apparently adequately dry enough for him now. He looks younger when his hair is messy and a little damp, falling over his forehead flatter than usual. It’s kinda boyish and dare-you-say charming.

He looks down at his slippers again with a pleasant reminiscent look on his face before placing his hands on his hips like he’s a baseball dad of three. “Y’know, when I was growing up–”

“Ah yes. During the Great Depression.”

He gives you an annoyed look. “Quit it. When I was a kid–”

“Back in the 1800s.”

“Aren’t you pushing thirty?” he asks you.

“Aren’t you in need of some new dentures?” you ask him.

“Fuckin’ rude,” he mumbles as he walks towards the foyer table to rip open some of the mail that was scattered across it.

“What happened when you were a kid?” you ask.

“Forget it,” he says, tucking some of his bills back into envelopes.

“What!! I wanna know,” you say.

“Yeah well I don’t want to tell you anymore,” he responds.

As you two fully grown adults continue bickering like toddlers for the better part of two minutes, your phone is ringing upstairs unbeknownst to you. 

“Wait. Shut up,” Gojo cuts off your next insult as he snaps his head up-right suddenly. 

“What?! Did you just tell me to shut u–”

“Shhhhhh,” he hushes you, turning his ear towards the stairs with a concentrated expression on his face.

You silence yourself, and then you hear the ringing coming from upstairs.

“Fuck,” you mumble as you scramble off the couch and jog to the bottom of the staircase, Gojo’s eyes on you the entire time as you run up the steps back to your room.

You hear your phone ringing on the bed somewhere but you can’t find it so you rummage through the sheets before finally spotting it, swiping on the call and bringing it to your ear without even checking the caller ID.

“Hello?” you say.

“Oh! y/n, hi there. It’s Dr. Johnson calling. I was prepared to leave you a voicemail,” he says.

“I’m here,” you say hastily, holding your phone to your ear with both hands as you feel your entire body tense up. 

You never knew what to expect with any sort of phone calls these days, especially when you’re at work or when your mom isn’t home, because a phone call could be something as simple as approving a refill on some of her medication, to something much worse than that. Something much more final than that. 

“It’s not an emergency,” Dr. Johnson says on the other line, like he can sense your fear and anxiety through the phone, “just wanted to reach out to let you know that I spoke with the hospitalist who admitted your mother to the hospital and she’s doing better now. They’ll likely discharge her by the end of the day.”

You slowly let out the breath you were holding. “Oh, that’s wonderful. I know she needs to come in for chemo tomorrow, so it’s perfect timing.”

“Yes, we’ll see her tomorrow.”

“Uh, Dr. Johnson, I do want to let you know…I’ll be admitting my mom for hospice in a couple of days,” you tell him. You wince a little, because you know it’s probably something that you should’ve discussed with him prior to all of this. “It’s…likely that you won’t have to continue her care anymore, since she’s been approved for Kaiser insurance, I’ll be transferring her care to Kaiser physicians.”

There’s a moment of silence on the other line, the briefest moment of hesitation from a self-assured doctor who always had something to say right away. “Really? That’s–...wow. I can’t say I won’t be extremely sad to not see her anymore.”

“I know…” you say, worrying your bottom lip through your teeth, feeling a sudden wave of guilt overtake your senses, “you’ve been following her progress ever since her diagnosis, even got her into remission…it’s just a little complicated with some insurance stuff and some bills as well. If I could have things my way, I would continue care with you and your team.”

Even though you can’t see it, you can tell he’s nodding on the other line. “I understand, y/n. I know that there’s more to healthcare in this country than just…receiving care. But I don’t have to explain those things to you, since you’re a nurse. Do what’s best for you and your family. Give me the details for the hospice, and I’ll have my MAs send over your mother’s chart.”

“Thank you, Dr. Johnson,” you whisper, your voice cracking slightly. “Really. For everything.”

“You’re most welcome.”

“Oh–” you stutter, in fear he might hang up right as you remembered to ask him something.

“Yes?”

“I know I’ll see you tomorrow so we can discuss it then too, but I was just wondering if the scans were back from my mom’s brain MRI she had done? I know they usually take three weeks to come back but just wanted to check.”

He lets out a low chuckle. “I had a feeling you’d follow up about that. No, there are no scans that have come back. I’ll let you know right away when they do.”

“Okay…” you say.

“I know you’re worried about a possible glioma,” he speaks up, “but let’s just try to stay positive until we see the scans, okay?”

“Yes. Sounds good. Thank you, doctor.”

“Alright. I will see you and your mom tomorrow.”

“Yes. Bye,” you say and hear his word of farewell too before hanging up. 

You stare down at the screen of your phone, taking in slow deep breaths to calm down your nerves. You just wanted these scans to come back already so that you could feel at peace knowing that your mom’s worsening neurological condition is due to her Alzheimer’s and not a tumor in her brain. The average survival length of a person with a brain tumor is low, and even worse if it’s a glioblastoma, ranging at around 12-18 months. You can buy her a few years at least with the stage of cancer progression she’s at right now, even with the possibility of remission, but if it becomes severely advanced disease then–

You gasp softly and cover your mouth with your hand, unable to even fathom the thought without feeling a feverish chill run down your entire body. Now's not the time to spiral. Deep breaths. One, two, three. Now is the time to stay positive. Just like Dr. Johnson said. 

Putting one step ahead of the other, you leave the room, cross the loft and slowly make your way down the stairs and stop at the very last step when you see Gojo rushing across the foyer with his dress shoes on, wearing a dark blue suit, save for the tie, and he looks like he’s pressed for time.

“Are you going somewhere?” you ask from the last step, your hand curled around the rail still.

“Hey, uh, yeah,” he scrambles, grabbing his keys from the paper mache bowl on the foyer table and then pats at his pockets for his wallet only to notice it’s absent. “Fuck.” He disappears somewhere into the house in a hurry and then returns with his wallet in his hand before shoving it in his pocket with the jingle of his keys too. “I had to push a couple house viewings from this afternoon up, so I need to leave.” He finally turns to face you and exhales slowly to regain his breath. “Small favor?”

“What’s up,” you say.

He rubs the back of his neck a little guiltily. “Well, Sana called a few minutes ago asking if I could watch Juno since she had to pick her up early from school, and I said sure, but I have to leave now, so–”

“I can watch her,” you say.

He claps his hands together in prayer form and holds them up to his face, “I owe you one.”

“Mhmmmmm,” you hum, watching as he resumes his haste to leave the house. And just before he heads out the door, you say— “Collar.”

“Huh?” He turns around to face you. “Oh.” He takes a second to flatten the collar of his shirt. “Thanks.” And then he’s out the door.

You sigh, relishing in the emptiness of the house. Maybe you should raid his pantry, or play porn on the TV super loud so all the neighbors think he’s a creep. But perhaps that is not appropriate, given that his sister will be bringing his niece over very soon.

You quickly head over to your house to change into something more appropriate than your nightgown, just some blue jeans that honestly make you look like a soccer mom, and then a T-shirt. You walk back to Gojo’s house and only get about five minutes to peruse his pantry when the doorbell rings.

When you open the door, you’re met face-to-face with Gojo’s sister, Sana. How would you describe Sana? Well, first of all, she’s beautiful, with all the same features as Gojo except in female form. Striking round blue eyes, silky white hair that shimmers silver underneath sunlight (you would describe Gojo less poetically than this, though). Her hair is pin straight, falling down just past her shoulders. She’s sweet, or at least has been the couple of times that you’ve met her, but she can also be a little serious and strict. The type to not really laugh at the dinner table if you make a pointed joke about the current political state of the country, but maybe it’s because she didn’t even understand the joke to begin with. Either way, she’s very different from the annoying and irritating temperament of her older brother, and how their mother managed to give birth to such two different kids is beyond you.

“Hey,” you greet her at the door with a small smile.

“Hi, y/n,” she returns with a polite smile of her own. She’s holding onto Juno’s scrawny shoulders as the kid stands in front of her, barely to the height of her mother’s hips. Juno was toying with the light pink baseball cap on her head, her hair pulled through the opening in the back and tied up into a ponytail. “I’m so sorry to bother you with her.”

“Oh! No, not a bother at all, I love getting to see her,” you say as you crouch down to get at eye level with her. “Hi Juno!”

Juno has curly white hair rather than the pin straight that her mother possessed, a feature that more closely resembles her father’s hair, along with her hazel eyes. You’ve only met Sana’s husband, Jun, once before. From what you know, he’s some type of businessman, and the first thing you noticed about him was that he was the same height as Sana. But his wife was blessed with supermodel height and was probably taller than most men, so it wasn’t surprising. Jun was hearty, almost suspiciously kind, laughed boisterously loud, and in the small amount of time you met him, it was easy to see that Sana very rarely humored his ill-mannered and awkwardly-placed jokes, but they seemed very in love with each other regardless. Apparently he and Gojo go golfing every other weekend. Information that you seem to know despite any desire to know it. 

Juno hugs her water bottle to her chest, shy as she makes eye contact with you. “Hi, auntie y/n.”

“I loooooove your baseball cap! It’s so cute, where did you get it?” you ask her.

She blinks off to the side timidly, her fluffy white lashes fluttering over her bright eyes. “Um. Uncle Toru.”

“Ohhh I see, I see! It suits you.”

Sana nudges her a little with her knee. “What do we say, Juno?”

“Thank you, auntie y/n,” she immediately squeaks out in reflex.

Your eyes catch a glimpse of the white bandage wrapped over her tiny arm and your brow furrows before reaching out to gently hold it. Juno winces a little from the sensation. You stand up straight.

“What happened to her arm?” you ask Sana.

Sana sighs as she tucks some of her hair behind her ear. “She fell on the playground at school today. It’s a pretty large scrape and it’s been hurting her a lot.”

“Did you disinfect it?”

“Oh…I just–...washed it with some water. The school nurse wasn’t there today so I just had to pick her up early.” 

“Mm, I see,” you say, “I can take a look at it. I have some neosporin in my purse.”

She lets out a relieved sigh, like she was secretly hoping you would make the offer. “Thank you. Really.” She gently pushes on her daughter’s shoulder. “C’mon Juno. Go inside and set your homework up on the table.”

Juno cranes her neck up to look at her mom. “Mommy, can I have a snack first? Pop-tart!”

“If your uncle has them in the pantry, then sure,” Sana says, and immediately upon hearing those words, Juno rushes inside the house with giggles filling the air. “But only one!!” Sana yells out to her in a strict tone, and you watch with amusement as Juno skips off before returning your attention back to Sana.

“Sooo…” she starts, a small hint of hesitation playing on her usually prim face, “I suppose we’re sisters now. Sisters-in-law.”

Your eyes widen and your shoulders stiffen. It was at least a good thing that Gojo told his family already that you two are married, because it seems that most of his extended family live here in this town. At least, you know that his sister’s family and his parents live here. Better to be heard from him directly than to run into you randomly living at his house all of a sudden when they drop by. You’re sure his family has questions about this extremely sudden marriage to say the least. You’re not sure how much they’ll try to pry, but you hope it’s not much, because you’ve never really been a great actress. “Yes. Yes, we are.”

“Mm,” she hums pleasantly at you, nodding slowly and peering off into the house beyond your shoulder, “say…I’m, um, just a little…surprised by how sudden this all is.”

“Hmm?”

“With you and my brother,” she says straightforwardly. “Obviously, you must know he’s been married before, but it’s…a little odd, it feels like just yesterday when he told us he was…getting a divorce. And now he’s married again.” She trails off when she has some sobering thought that flashes through her head. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m blabbering about this. I’m just–...I’m just thinking out loud. It must be a sore topic.”

“Oh, no, no, not at all. No worries,” you say with an awkward laugh, “I’ve, um, come to terms with it?” You try your best to come up with a believable response.

“That’s good,” she says while she runs soothing circles with her thumb over the skin at her elbow, “well, some love moves faster than others.” She displays a well-meaning smile on her face. “I’m really happy for you two.”

For some reason, your heart warms. Like when the lines of reality and imagination blur, and so you’re left here with a truly comforting feeling. Only it’s fleeting and temporary, like escapism. “Thank you,” you say softly. And after a moment, “by the way, I’m really sorry for…Satoru and I not having a proper wedding. We just wanted something simple.”

She lets out a small scoff. “Oh, gosh, don’t apologize for that. I’m sick of weddings. I was so glad I didn’t have to peruse yet another wedding registry this year. There are only so many toaster ovens I can buy.”

You’re a little surprised by the humor from her, but the two of you let out small laughs in unison at the doorstep.

Sana glances at her watch. “I have to get going. Call me if you need anything, okay?” 

You nod. “Sure. Thanks.”

You close the door slowly, watching her briefly through the stained glass window as she heads towards her car and gets inside before promptly driving off. 

There’s the sound of ruffling heard and then the sound of things falling off a shelf towards the kitchen. You turn on your heel and head in the direction. “Junooo,” you call out, “where are youuuu?”

“In here!” she chirps from the pantry room. You turn the light on to see her standing in the center with a couple boxes of cereal fallen around her. She’s holding an empty box in her hand. “The pop-tart box is empty,” she says with a pout and sulk of her shoulders as she makes the most :(( face you’ve ever seen a child make.

“Oh no,” you say, grabbing the box from her and inspecting the inside, “your devious uncle must’ve eaten them all in a manic episode.”

“What is a manic mean?” she asks you as she looks up, rubbing her ankle with her other foot.

“Oh, it’s like…crazy? He went crazy?”

She giggles at the thought.

“If you’re hungry, I can make you something,” you offer.

She shyly nods her head but her grin fully rounds her cheeks before she darts off towards the kitchen. 

You find her standing near the kitchen island, trying to get up onto one of the bar stools but to no avail. You come up behind her to pick her up then set her down on the seat, adjusting it so it’s a little higher. 

“What do you want me to make?” you ask her as you come around to the other side of the island and set your elbows up on the cold marble, leaning over to place your chin in your palm. 

“Um…” she brings her index finger up to her bottom lip in thought, “pancakes? Can I have blubbery pancakes?”

“Huh?” 

“Um…” she starts again, “last time, when I eated them at your house. Um, when I ated them at your house,” she tries to correct herself, “I really liked them.”

“Oh!” you perch up from your bent over position, “I remember! The blueberry pancakes. Aww, Juno, you remember that? How sweet.”

She becomes a little bashful and glances down at the her lap.

“Okayyy,” you say, placing your hands on your waist as you look around at the kitchen, “well I’ll have to see what ingredients I’m working with here, but hopefully I can make them for you.” You tilt your head at her before pointing a finger. “Have you ever seen the show Chopped?” 

She sits up straight with excitement. “Yes yes! Me and mommy love it.”

“Good. Let’s pretend I’m working with a mystery basket here,” you say, and then you turn around to open Gojo’s fridge. 

You can learn a lot about a person based on what the inside of their fridge looks like. You’re surprised to find the inside of his looks…sparkly? That was the only way you knew how to describe it. With clean shelves that reflect the bright lighting off the plastic, plastic that looks as mirror sheen as glass. As your eyes take in the contents inside, you notice he has some leftover thai food at the front, most likely leftovers from as recent as last night. One of the produce drawers is filled to the brim while the other is mostly empty, and you notice he separates them by leafy stuff vs. veggies. The leafy stuff is the drawer that’s filled to the brim, and you just know he’s stressed out over how to use all of it up before it starts wilting. Must’ve been on sale, you think to yourself. To the right of the fridge, there are an insane amount of orange juice cartons, and you notice he drinks the same one as you–pulp free with the added vitamins and calcium that’s made for kids. Although maybe he has an excuse for it, since he has a five-year-old niece. There’s a few containers of meal prep stacked up at the back of the fridge that look like some sort of arrangement of quinoa, chicken and Mediterranean vegetables. And then there’s just a bunch of assorted cans of beer throughout the fridge, which you assume are to appease the diverse preferences of his friends whenever he has them over. 

You grab a couple of eggs from the egg carton, placing them on the counter along with a stick of butter plus a half-full carton of milk, and peer deep into the fridge past the wall of condiments to eye for any fresh fruit such as berries, but you don’t see any. You try the freezer and are relieved when you see he has some frozen blueberries in there.

“Okay!” you shut the fridge. “Just need to grab a few more things from the pantry room and then I’ll make you your pancakes, okay?” 

Juno nods enthusiastically. “Um. Can I get my backpack?”

“Sure.” You pick her up off the bar stool to set her down on the ground and she runs to the coffee table in front of the TV to grab her things as you head to the pantry room. 

Flour, sugar, baking powder, all tucked in your elbows as you carry the ingredients back to the kitchen before dropping them onto the counter and picking Juno up to place her on the barstool again. She starts to lay out her glittery pens and pristinely sharpened pencils in front of her as well as a packet of papers. 

“I can’t believe they’re giving Kindergarteners homework these days…” you mutter under your breath as you grab a bowl. “Juno, wanna help me crack the eggs?”

“Yes!”

“Let’s go wash our hands then.”

As you mix all your ingredients together and Juno continues to stare at her papers with her face awfully close to them (does she need glasses?), you think to yourself what a nice little life this is. Although you haven’t been able to spend the day at your house like you were hoping you would, since you could finally have it for yourself, it was nice to spend it at Gojo’s. It was something different, something refreshing, something grounding. An escape that you needed. 

“Um. Auntie y/n?” Juno calls from behind you as you flip a pancake at the stove.

“Yes sweetheart.”

“How is mommy?”

“Hmm?” you hum. “My mommy?”

“Yes!”

“Oh you are just the sweetest thing. She’s doing okay. She’s just a little sick still.”

“When I’m sick,” Juno speaks up with a childlike enthusiasm in her voice, “my mommy gives me grape soor–...stir–” she struggles with the word, “shrup, ah, syrup! Grape syrup. It makes me better.”

“Ohhh honey, I know,” you coo as you try to match her enthusiasm, placing two little pancakes onto a plate for her. “When you get the sniffles, right?”

“Yes! Maybe your mommy will be better too if I give her some of my grape syoorup?”

You stop in your tracks, staring down at the food you were just plating.

The innocence of a child. It was hard to stay strong in the face of it. When you were younger, you probably would’ve thought that a magical potion would make your mom all better, too.

You turn around to face her. “Well,” you say, clearing your throat a little to fight the knot that you find is twisting it, “I think,” and now you’re blinking away the faint sheer of tears as you press your lips into a thin smile, your soft soft above a whisper, “that that is a wonderful idea.”

Juno gobbles up her blubbery pancakes with the extra maple syrup on them and you watch her take every bite. There was something satisfying about seeing a little kid eat so well. The sight made you feel well-fed on their behalf.

“Alright,” you say with a small grunt as you pick Juno up and set her down onto the ground, then take her hand to lead her over to the carpeted family room. “Let me take a look at this scrape of yours.”

Juno’s hand tugs slightly when you try to pull on it, so you turn around to see that she has stopped in her tracks halfway through the trek to the other room.

“What’s wrong?” you ask her.

“I don’t want you to see it…”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s ugly.”

“Juno,” you tug on her hand a little, “I have to see it so that I can clean it. Otherwise you might get sick. A type of sick that even grape syrup can’t fix.”

She looks up at you with curious eyes, not fearful ones. 

“There is sick like that?” she asks you.

“Yes. Now give me your arm.”

Juno follows you to the family room and stands still, the front of her jutting out slightly as she pouts, a display of her remaining disapproval for you taking a look at her scrape. You get down onto your knees and slowly undo the bandages, unwrapping the layers one-by-one before the end falls off and you’re staring at a 4x2cm superficial abrasion on her arm, and when your thumb lightly swipes at the skin underneath it, Juno winces from the pain.

You also notice she has a bruise on her left upper thigh, right below where the hem of her shorts end.

“You…only fell onto your right side, right?” you ask her.

“Mhm,” she nods.

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“How come you have a bruise on your left thigh then?”

Her eyes widen slightly with shock and her head quickly snaps down to look at her thigh. “Um. Um. I don’t know. Um. Um.”

“Juno,” you say, trying to muster up a strict tone, but she refuses to make eye contact with you anymore as she stares at the carpet beneath her. You gently grab a hold of both of her wrists. “Sweetheart. Look at me.” Her eyes slowly lift up to meet yours. “I want to help you, but I can't help you unless you’re honest with me.”

Her big eyes blink at you slowly and her bottom lip quivers slightly.

“How did you really hurt yourself?”

She immediately starts bawling. Full on sobs that echo throughout the room and startle you slightly as the tears freely fall down her cheeks and she struggles to wipe them off with her left arm, but they only drip down her elbow.

“Oh–” you stutter, holding her by her shoulders, “Juno–”

She sniffles. “They–” she hiccups, “they pushed me…they always push me.”

“Who pushed you?? Who always pushes you??”

She sucks in a deep breath as she continues to cry and you struggle to wipe at her tears for her with the pad of your thumb. “The–hic–girls at school. They’re so–hic–...wahhh…they’re so mean.”

“They pushed you on the playground and that’s how you got this scrape and bruise?” you ask her.

She nods as she slowly begins to come down from her outburst, her remnant sniffles and short sharp inhales showing that she was struggling to breath. You run to grab some tissues and then come back, holding them to her nose before she blows into them.

“Oh sweetheart…I’m so sorry,” you say to her.

She suddenly runs into you, hugging you tightly, and you’re momentarily surprised before wrapping an arm around her too and then gently patting at her back.

“How long has this been going on?” you ask her.

“Mm…ever since I–hic–ever since I got on T-ball team…but they couldn’t get on.”

“Oh…” you coo, gently rubbing her back now. You’re not a mom, you’ve got no fucking clue how to navigate this sort of situation. But you can try your best to give some advice. “Juno, you have every right to feel happy and safe at school.” You gently pull her away from the hug so that you can look at her face. “And it’s okay to stand up for yourself and against anyone that is being mean to you. Don’t let them take that power away from you.”

She nods slowly, her lip quivering slightly again.

You sigh slowly before giving her another hug. “And we’ll work out something with your mom too, okay? She can talk to the teachers.”

“No!” Juno shrieks, pulling away from you suddenly. You blink at her. “No. Please don’t tell my mommy.”

“W-Why not??”

“Because–” she stutters, “um…I want to tell her myself. Because I lied, and mommy always says to me to not tell lies. So I have to fix it myself.”

You tilt your head at her, frowning slightly. You’re not exactly sure how much autonomy over such things you should be granting a five-year-old, but you decide to give her the choice. You hold your pinky finger out to her, “you have to promise me you’ll tell her though, okay?”

She nods and wraps her pinky around yours. 

After getting her scrape cleaned up and tended to, Juno spends the next hour or so watching My Little Pony on the TV as you clean up the mess you made in the kitchen. And as you’re staring out into the backyard while wiping down the cutting board, the sound of the doorbell ringing makes you jump with a startle and breaks you out of your trance.

You were prepared to open the door to find Sana standing at the entrance, but instead you’re met with the sight of a different woman.

Much older, and with all the same features, it doesn’t really take you long to figure out who she is.

“Ah! There she is!” the woman chirps out. “I’m—”

“Juno’s grandmother,” you finish the statement for her.

“—Satoru’s mother,” she instead says.

You both blink at one another.

“Well,” she chirps, “I’m both!”

Gojo’s mother appears to be a kind woman, and it’s evident that being gorgeous must run in the family. Although she has aged features, they’re still beautiful in a graceful way, where people would take a look at her and think of aging as a privilege and not a curse. Her eyes are somewhat feline, different from the roundness of those you’ve seen in her family, and her hair is a shimmering silver all around with a pretty silk press layered hair style that flatters her frail jaw. She was wearing a French-style button up dress with a rather gaudy belt around her waist, and you catch the scent of her lilac perfume even while she’s standing three feet away.

She puts her hands on her hips and has a forced smile on her face. “My son gets married and he doesn’t even tell me a peep about it, or introduce me to his new wife! I have to come all the way over here myself!” she exclaims, and her tone is like she’s trying to play it off with nonchalance but the stiffness of her features makes it look like she’s losing her mind. “Well,” she clicks her tongue, “he’s always had the penchant for never sharing anything he ever does with me.”

“Ah…I’m so sorry, Mrs. Gojo,” you say to her, unsure why you’re apologizing, but there was this energy to her that made you realize she had a skill for making people feel apologetic in her presence.

“No worries! Not your fault. I’ll deal with him later,” she says, her smile growing to where it almost fully crescents her eyes in a frightening way that almost sends a shiver down your spine, “anywhoooo,” she takes both of your hands into hers, “you’re very beautiful, and you have a very lucky-looking nose!”

“Lucky?”

“Yes, yes. You will bring luck to our family.”

“Thanks?” you say, trying to manage a smile.

She takes a step closer to you. “Tell me, what do your parents do for a living?”

“Oh! Um, well, my mom is retired, but she used to be an art teacher. My dad is in the food business, but uh, I haven’t spoken to him in years ever since my parents got divorced.”

“Ah,” she says curtly, her face blank as if she couldn’t think of a single thing to follow up with after that. She peers past your shoulder. “Where’s the little princess?”

“She’s just inside grabbing her things.” You gently slip your hands out of her hold and turn around to face the inside of the house. “Juno!! Do you need help?”

“No!!” she calls from the kitchen.

“Say, my dear,” Gojo’s mother speaks up, “why don’t you and Satoru come by for dinner this weekend? Jun and Sana apparently have some important news they’d like to share with the family, and I offered that we all hear it together over a meal. This way you can meet your father-in-law too!”

You take a deep breath in, realizing that this fake marriage agreement involves a lot more deceit than you ever thought it would. “Sure. Yes. I’d love that. Let me know if I can bring anything.”

“Wonderful!” she exclaims, just in time for when you feel Juno brush past you towards her grandma, hunching over slightly with her backpack’s weight. Gojo’s mother pulls you in for a hug which entirely startles you and you slowly wrap your arms around her as well. “It’s so lovely to have a daughter-in-law. Oh, I am just so happy to have you in our family.”

She lets go of you but still keeps you close by a delicate hold of your elbows, a gleeful smile on her face as she looks you up and down slowly.

“Bye, auntie y/n!!” Juno squeaks out, hugging your leg, and you pat at the top of her head. Her grandmother finally lets go of you and takes Juno’s tiny hand in her frail one, and you see them off to the car.

By the time you make it back inside the house, you let out a deep slow breath, one that you didn’t know you were holding in, as you lay your weight back on the front door. You feel a pressure in your head from your dwindling social battery and all these tricky encounters.

So, you’re part of a whole other family, now?

That. Is. Frightening.

.

.

.

[end of chapter 3]

a/n. ah!! hope you enjoyed this ihm chapter :’’) sorry if it seemed like a bunch of random scenes lolol i swear it’s all set up for stuff that will happen down the lineee. i just be yappin so the word count ends up kinda high. hope to see you in the next one!! <3 love u all. also it’s my frank ocean anons bday today so i dedicate this chapter to themm 🫶🏼💕 manifesting dilf gojo for u bb for anyone curious about why reader is a bit paranoid w potentially being busted for her fake marriage, i had another reader that was curious about this too so i answered them here if you'd like to check it out :)

➸ take me to chapter four!

note: please do not ask me for updates or when i will next update (read rules)

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[comicaurora]

A bit of a strange question, but if there were any of your videos you were to "remake" today for any reason (ex: you feel like you misrepresented the original text or spread misinformation), which would it be and why? None of them is a perfectly valid answer

Again: bit of a strange question, but I've been thinking about my own creations and how I could have done so much better with some of them, but I also know that is a sign of my growth and constantly chasing "what if I did this instead" isn't always healthy for nurturing a creative mindset, and I was wondering what your opinion might be as a Creator of Things with a bit more experience than I

There's been a few trope talks where I've thought later of other angles I could've explored that might warrant sequels or part 2s, but I don't dislike any of the summaries enough to justify a rework.

I always find "I could've done this better if I made it now" to be a bit of a fallacy. I'm only better at making things now because I made all those earlier things. If I knew everything I'd learn from making a project before I started the project, it wouldn't come out the same.

I think when it comes to the "rework remake perfect" instinct, it helps to zero in on what the impulse is really grounded in. In my experience, more often than not, it's not actually about making the art better, except incidentally. It's usually about showing that you are better. It's demonstrating your competence and your higher standards and your skills, and more importantly it's overwriting the proof that you were once less than perfect. If people look at your old work and think that's all you're capable of, they'll be judging you poorly!

If that's the motivator, it's a very unhelpful one. You can't control for being harshly or incorrectly judged. It's a fruitless effort to stave off potentially upsetting outdated criticism, and it's not even going to work. Fear of critique is an unreliable and untrustworthy motivator.

If it really is about making the art itself better, perfecting your magnum opus with your newly leveled-up skills, that's a little more solid. But from where I'm standing, it's always better to use those skills to make something new instead of polishing something old. The older, unpolished work has already acquired its audience that finds it appealing for reasons that might never occur to you. Trying to bury or overwrite it just deprives that audience of the thing they like, and maybe makes them feel bad for having liked it in the first place. Also, usually when you look back on the older work, you'll conclude that the problem is everything and it'll need to be torn down and started from scratch. I know when I revisited the first three chapters of the comic, when I let my critic brain spin up, it wasn't shading or lineart I wanted to fix - it was panel composition, overall pacing, the entire structure of the chapters as a whole. I would've had to make them all over again to be happy with them, and they wouldn't be the same story by the end.

I've been thinking a lot about the Discworld through this lens lately. It ended up over 40 books long, but everyone agrees that the first two are not what you should start with, because they're the worst ones. They're entirely parodic, purely referential of at-the-time major fantasy series, and borderline mean-spirited in places. If you haven't read Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser and Dragonriders of Pern, you're not gonna understand like a full 50% of The Colour Of Magic.

It's clear that when he started in on them, Pratchett was entirely focused on taking the piss out of a genre he found mostly shallow and unimpressive. But the Discworld wouldn't leave his head, and everything he made fun of he clearly eventually found himself overthinking. He'd make little one-off jokes in the early books about Dwarves having no women and a hundred words for gold, and then twenty books later he'd have a Dwarf gender revolution make waves across the Disc, and then he'd write Thud!, a book that delves deeper into the nuances of Dwarf societal structure than Tolkien ever did.

If you look for them, there are continuity errors everywhere in Discworld. In his introductory book, Carrot defused a dwarf bar full of rowdy brawlers by guilting them all into writing to their poor lonely mothers back home. Shortly thereafter, Carrot will be outraged at the mere concept of an openly female dwarf. Pratchett even eventually wrote Thief of Time, a book that loosely explains that the Disc makes no sense because history has been broken and put back together incorrectly twice, and therefore any continuity errors are because of that.

He's the writer. He could've gone back and fixed it, edited the reprints to be less disruptively discontinuous with the later books. Instead he continuously moved forward and allowed the world he made to grow without cutting it off from its roots. And because he didn't bury his older, far worse work, we have the privilege of following the Disc's evolution from the very start, and seeing how this shallow, stock fantasy world parody became something incredibly rich and complex without ever pretending like its early installments never happened.

Anyway, that's why I think it's better to move forward. You make more good stuff that way.

[ailelie]

Installing Linux (Mint) as a Non-Techy Person

I've wanted Linux for various reasons since college. I tried it once when I no longer had to worry about having specific programs for school, but it did not go well. It was a dedicated PC that was, I believe, poorly made. Anyway.

In the process of deGoogling and deWindows365'ing, I started to think about Linux again. Here is my experience.

Pre-Work: Take Stock

List out the programs you use regularly and those you need. Look up whether or not they work on Linux. For those that don't, look up alternatives.

If the alternative works on Windows/Mac, try it out first.

Make sure you have your files backed up somewhere.

Also, pick up a 5GB minimum USB drive.

Oh and make a system restore point (look it up in your Start menu) and back-up your files.

Step One: Choose a Distro

Dear god do Linux people like to talk about distros. Basically, from what all I've read, if you don't want to fuss a lot with your OS, you've got two options: Ubuntu and Linux Mint. Ubuntu is better known and run by a company called Canonical. Linux Mint is run by a small team and paid for via donations.

I chose Linux Mint. Some of the stuff I read about Ubuntu reminded me too much of my reasons for wanting to leave Windows, basically. Did I second-guess this a half-dozen times? Yes, yes I did.

The rest of this is true for Linux Mint Cinnamon only.

Step Two: Make your Flash Drive

Linux Mint has great instructions. For the most part they work.

Start here:

The trickiest part of creating the flash drive is verifying and authenticating it.

On the same page that you download the Linux .iso file there are two links. Right click+save as both of those files to your computer. I saved them and the .iso file all to my Downloads folder.

Then, once you get to the 'Verify your ISO image' page in their guide and you're on Windows like me, skip down to this link about verifying on Windows.

Once it is verified, you can go back to the Linux Mint guide. They'll direct you to download Etchr and use that to create your flash drive.

If this step is too tricky, then please reconsider Linux. Subsequent steps are both easier and trickier.

Step Three: Restart from your Flash Drive

This is the step where I nearly gave up. The guide is still great, except it doesn't mention certain security features that make installing Linux Mint impossible without extra steps.

(1) Look up your Bitlocker recovery key and have it handy.

I don't know if you'll need it like I did (I did not turn off Bitlocker at first), but better to be safe.

(2) Turn off Bitlocker.

(3) Restart. When on the title screen, press your Bios key. There might be more than one. On a Lenovo, pressing F1 several times gets you to the relevant menu. This is not the menu you'll need to install, though. Turn off "Secure Boot."

(4) Restart. This time press F12 (on a Lenovo). The HDD option, iirc, is your USB. Look it up on your phone to be sure.

Now you can return to the Linux Mint instructions.

Figuring this out via trial-and-error was not fun.

Step Four: Install Mint

Just follow the prompts. I chose to do the dual boot.

You will have to click through some scary messages about irrevocable changes. This is your last chance to change your mind.

I chose the dual boot because I may not have anticipated everything I'll need from Windows. My goal is to work primarily in Linux. Then, in a few months, if it is working, I'll look up the steps for making my machine Linux only.

Some Notes on Linux Mint

Some of the minor things I looked up ahead of time and other miscellany:

(1) HP Printers supposedly play nice with Linux. I have not tested this yet.

(2) Linux Mint can easily access your Windows files. I've read that this does not go both ways. I've not tested it yet.

(3) You can move the taskbar (panel in LM) to the left side of your screen.

(4) You are going to have to download your key programs again.

(5) The LM software manager has most programs, but not all. Some you'll have to download from websites. Follow instructions. If a file leads to a scary wall of strange text, close it and just do the Terminal instructions instead.

(6) The software manager also has fonts. I was able to get Fanwood (my favorite serif) and JetBrains (my favorite mono) easily.

In the end, be prepared for something to go wrong. Just trust that you are not the first person to ever experience the issue and look it up. If that doesn't help, you can always ask. The forums and reddit community both look active.

[dunmomee]

Let's Test Your Chemistry

Summary: You and Satoru go head-to-head in a How Well Do You Know Each Other? game, only to realize he’s been paying a lot more attention to you than you thought.

a/n: I’m really enjoying milking this AU. Honestly, it’s my favorite way to destress. Everything I write here is just stuff I’ve already daydreamed about, hehe… Have fun reading! And remember, I’m writing these one-shots in no particular order!

<<Previous one-shot | Next one-shot>>

********************************************************************

The set was all clean lines and soft glow, sleek white walls with gentle lavender lights cast behind sheer panels, cozy but elegant. Two modern armchairs faced the camera. You were seated on the left, Gojo on the right, a shared glass coffee table between you, with matching water glasses set neatly on top.

You wore a striking brown plaid blazer-dress that swept elegantly over your frame, paired with sheer black leggings and playful pink platform heels that added height and flair. Your hair was styled in cascading waves, soft yet polished, tumbling over your shoulders like they'd been set that way by a romantic breeze.

Due to the tight arrangement of your seats, your crossed legs ended up nestled between Gojo’s long ones, an accidental intimacy neither of you addressed, though both were acutely aware of it.

Offscreen, the segment producer’s voice rang out—clear and chipper. “We’re on in 3, 2…”

You both sat up a little straighter.

“She’s Y/N L/N.”

“And he’s the Gojo Satoru.”

In sync, you both said: “And this is Gravity’s ‘How Well Do You Know Each Other?’”

Gojo adjusted the sleeves of his oatmeal sweater with exaggerated flair. “Prepare to be humbled,” he said, flashing you a grin.

You narrowed your eyes, swirling your marker like a sword. “Satoru, you forgot your own character’s alias on day three.”

He leaned in, playful. “But I never forgot your coffee order.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Y/N goes first,” the producer said. “Ready?”

You nodded, uncapping your marker.

“So, first question,” the producer said from offscreen. “What’s Satoru’s favorite midnight snack?”

You immediately start scribbling quickly on your board with a satisfied smirk. Gojo, meanwhile, tapped the marker against his chin, eyes darting as if genuinely thinking it through, though you had a feeling he was just being dramatic.

“Ready?” you asked sweetly.

He gave a shrug and a wink. “Born ready.”

You both flipped your boards.

Yours read: Strawberry shortcake with that obnoxious whipped cream.

Gojo’s read: Strawberry shortcake (only from Shimokitazawa café).

He pointed at your board with a cocky grin. “The specificity wins.”

You groaned, throwing your head back. “Why are you like this?”

The producer laughed. “You both get a point.”

Gojo leaned over just slightly. “Admit it, you love that I’m predictable.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re lucky I knew it wasn’t those tragic instant noodles you pretend to hate.”

“It’s Gojo’s turn. What was Y/N’s favorite film growing up?”

He didn’t even blink before scribbling down his answer. You hesitated.

You: Mulan

Gojo: Mulan (1998)

You turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Wait… you actually got that right? Even down to the year?”

He smirked. “You mentioned it. Day five. Right before your second espresso. You expressly said you hated the live-action. And I quote— ‘Why’d Disney have to destroy such an amazing legacy? And what happened to Mushu and Cricket?’”

He pitched his voice high in a dramatic imitation.

You narrowed your eyes. “I absolutely do not sound like that, Satoru. And I remember you agreed with me.”

He leaned back, wearing that smug grin of his. “What can I say? You’re always right.”

The producer laughed before moving on to the next question. “Y/N, who was Gojo’s childhood celebrity crush?”

You bit your lip, thinking hard. Gojo already looked smug.

You: J.Lo

Gojo: Waka Inoue

You gasped. “That’s a lie! Suguru always said it was J.Lo—you used to gyrate to her music!”

He scoffed. “Definitely not. I have taste.”

“That’s three points for Gojo, Y/N,” the producer announced.

You pouted, lips curling into a dramatic moue. Gojo nudged your leg, subtle enough for the cameras to miss, his knee brushing lightly against your thigh in a slow, deliberate drag.

“Next question for Gojo: what are three things Y/N never leaves the house without?”

Gojo didn’t even pause. “Four things, actually,” he said as he scribbled.

You raised a brow. “We said three.”

“I’m an overachiever.”

You both flipped your boards.

You: Phone, gloss, notebook

Gojo: Phone, pink lip gloss, journal, good luck charm ring

You blinked. “You stalker! I’ve only ever had good luck with that ring. It’s a Japanese talisman!”

“Suguru and I got it at Target,” he said, grinning. “I know he’s going to murder me for this, but your cousin is a fraud.”

Your mouth dropped open, stunned for a second—then you swung your board at him. “You and Suguru are so dead!”

He caught your arm easily, smirking. “It’d be an honor if your face was the last thing I saw.”

He held your gaze and your arm, a beat too long before letting go.

You could hear the chuckling of the crew, then you adjusted yourself but then realized Gojo had trapped your legs in between his.

The producer chimed in: “Y/N, which scene gave Gojo the most trouble on set?”

You hesitated, thinking. Gojo, for once, took his time too.

You: The helicopter scene

Gojo: The upside-down kiss. I couldn’t stop laughing.

You turned to him, blinking. “You laughed during a kiss scene?”

“I did. Your expressions were killing me, especially when you kept fighting the nose mask.”

You groaned. “I just kept thinking of Kirsten Dunst in Spider-Man! I didn’t know I was making faces.”

“You were. Like you were going to sneeze and cry at the same time.”

“Rude!”

He shrugged, grinning. “Iconic, though. I still think we nailed the take.”

“Okay, last question,” the producer announced. “What’s Y/N’s most-used word on set?”

Gojo scribbled without even glancing down.

“Confident much?” you asked.

“I am. I know everything about you.”

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath.

You both flipped your boards.

You: Badass

Gojo: Badass

The producer laughed. “Was that too easy?”

“She says it at least seven times a day,” Gojo said. “Different tones, different meanings.”

“Oh yeah?” the producer grinned. “Like what?”

Gojo held up his fingers theatrically. “There’s: ‘The coffee from downtown is badass.’ ‘Nobara from makeup is so badass.’ And my personal favorite—”

He shot you a sideways glance, smirk widening.

“‘Gojo, stop being such a badass tease.’”

Your eyes widened. “I have never said that!”

“Not in those exact words,” he said, flashing a wink.

You kicked his shin under the table. “Deserved.”

The producer’s voice loomed, “And that’s a wrap! Gojo wins with six points to Y/N’s four!”

Applause and laughter ripple through the set. You shoot him a playful glare, and he just grins, undisputed smugness in full effect.

A few minutes later, you both step offstage, flanked by your assistants. The evening air is cool, tinted with the buzz of post-interview adrenaline. As you approach your car, Gojo lingers beside you.

“You were kind of amazing up there,” he says, voice lower now, gentler. “And you look…” He trails off, eyes sweeping over you before finishing, “...breathtaking.”

Before you can answer, he reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, fingers brushing just slightly too slow against your cheek. His smile softens, all ego gone for once. Then, with a nod to your assistant, he turns and disappears into the dark with his team.

Later that night, you’re curled up on your couch, hoodie on, tea in hand, phone dimmed low in burner-mode scroll. Just catching up on harmless chaos.

Then you see it.

A candid photo. Grainy, fan-snapped.

Gojo Satoru tucking Y/N’s hair behind her ear outside the studio.

It's already viral.

Beneath it, fans are in full meltdown:

@dailygojofeed: “THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER. POSTURE. BODY LANGUAGE. I CAN’T BREATHE.” @stephaniecho: “that hand-to-hair moment? it’s giving ‘in love for YEARS but never said it’” @ally/n: “you cannot convince me they’re not method acting into a real-life slow burn” @chefmartha: “her smile is so small but it’s THERE. I’m spiraling. @machalatte: "i can't wait to see the segment! @gravitystudios"

You stare at the screen, lips twitching into a helpless smile.

And you don’t even bother to log out.

Instead, you sit there, spoon stirring absently into your tea, wondering if the actual segment dropping would cause even more of an uproar.

Something told you… it absolutely would.

<<Previous one-shot | Next one-shot>>

[eybefioro]

Happy Valentines, u/catartkd!

My gift for the @goodomensafterdark valentines exchange 💛

(Timelapse and ramblings under the cut as usual :P)

OKAY SO CATARTKD DID SOME AMAZING ARTWORK INSPIRED BY MUCHA A WHILE BACK AND I COULDN'T TAKE THEM FROM MY MIND. That's it 😂 you can find them here:

I really like Art Nouveau. Everything is just so delicate, light and also complex. The curves and the symmetry, it's all so pleasing... and that also extends to the architecture. And one of the things that I find the the prettiest in that architectural style are the stained glass panels and metal work. I mean-

LOOK AT THAT. anyways.

You know what also has a shitton of stained glass?? CHURCHS. Catholic imagery and stuffs like that, and we are talking about an angel and a demon... it just felt appropriate to take inspiration from that too!

(Highly recommend visiting r/StainedGlassHeaven and r/StainedGlass if you fuck with this shit. Humans are fascinating, and the glass work is INSANELY beautiful.)

So I tried to mix all of that - Catartkd's art, Mucha's work, stained glass and religious imagery. This was my brain lol

Did it work? I'm not really sure, but it was fun. Really fun. I loved it and I was able to include a lot of little details that talk about Crowley and Aziraphale, and also ✨️symmetry ✨️. Man. My Brain was so fucking happy with the symmetry. Everything is balanced and has pairs or is mirrored. It scratched my brain sooooo good.

I'm really tempted to point out all the little details that I put there, but what's the fun in that?? The only thing I will say is about Crowley’s hair. I have no real explanation for this but everytime that I saw this type of hair piece/hairstyle in paintings and historical movies I could only think of snakes. I have no idea why. But my brain immediately screams SNAKE everytime I see this shape. So I had to use this shape for naga!crowley's hair.

In my very very basic research for refs I discovered that this thing is apparently French?? So you know, it fits with Art nouveau too in my mind. Same place yk. (Shhhh I know it doesn't make that much sense but as I said, I needed to include it. This is the snake hair after all, the voices in my head said so).

I also played a bit with the composition which was a very good study, but there was two things that I loved the most to learn in this one. The first, was this video I stumbled upon while I searched about Mucha's work:

LINE WEIGHTS. OMG. This is soooo cool. I already use this on a daily basis in my work (we have norms and patterns for line weight we must follow in technical architecture drawings) but for some reason it never occurred to me that I could use it in art??? And that my favorite art works use this very well??? I see this applied constantly in the cartoons I love, in videogames (I'm looking at you point&clicks!!), in classic artworks (like Mucha's)... Idk why I never clocked that, but now that I did I will practice and use that more. I don't think I used line weights in the best possible way in this art work. I feel it could be waaaay better, but I really LOVE how the effect turned out.

The second thing is ✨️body proportion✨️. I was asking for advice and @gribouli as always came to my rescue and pointed out it to me... I didn't know about the head rule-

(This thing)

-and they helped me adjust my drawing and gave me tips and all 😭😭😭 I will never be able to thank them enough. Their support means the world to me and I honestly feel so privileged 😭😭 (I also used Elenthya's wings here again, obv because ever since she explained them to me my life changed)

Just so you can understand this was the sketch before Li's help:

BIG HEADS LOL I know disproportional bodies can be used very effectively (we see them everywhere, especially in cartoons!) But the point is those design choices are intentional. They're choices. These big big heads weren't. I just never studied anatomy and stuff, I'm learning the very basics now, so this was an accident (not a happy one lol).

This is it. I'm really loving learning more about art in practice. Drawing and painting has been kind of therapeutic lately XD and registering the process and the things I've learned in each piece has been especially nice. Being able to look back at my progress is helping me continue!

I'm thinking doing a Steven Universe one next 👀

[accirax]

DRDTtober Day...... uhhhhhh......

Given that we are (*checks calendar*) now half a year out from when DRDTtober 2024 was meant to begin, I think it's finally time to admit... yeah, I don't think I'm ever going to go back and make art for those prompts 😔✌️

I did, however, draw this back in September, in accordance with my original plans for the event! For those curious, below the cut is a (hopefully) brief explanation of what these designs were intended to be for, and why the comics ultimately never came to fruition.

As you may or may not recall, librariansrose kindly shared 2024's DRDTtober prompts to Tumblr well in advance of October's beginning, on August 22nd. Because I had so much fun making all of the comics for 2023, I definitely wanted to participate again. However, making the comics for 2023 took a lot of time, so I resolved that, if I was going to commit to these comics as a fairly big time investment, I might as well go all-in and make something nice that I could ideally use as a portfolio piece in the future. One polished, paneled page per day, in a 31-day overarching story. That idea also aligned with my personal desire to do something different than I had done last year, just for spice.

"This will be so easy!" I thought. "I have the end of August and the entirety of September to make my designs, write out my script, and get well ahead of drawing the comic itself so that I'll have plenty of buffer for the beginning of October!"

A few days after the prompts were shared, it was announced that DRDT Chapter 2 would resume on September 6th.

Suddenly, all of the time that I had mentally blocked to work on my DRDTtober comics was absorbed into watching the series itself and writing up my episode-by-episode dissections, as well as reading and responding to other various theories. It was awesome, obviously, but by the end of September I had done basically nothing other than make some very loose notes and draw up these first passes at character designs. At the beginning of October, I played with the idea of doing 7-page bursts at the end of each week, but when the first week ended, that turned into starting it mid-month and finishing in November, to starting in November, until it devolved into where we are now.

The biggest reason why I never wound up making this comic is because, to this day, I still don't have a clear idea of what its ending would be. With the comics being one connected story instead of 31 largely separate jokes, I needed to know what the ending would look like in order to properly set up the beginning. And, as I quickly found out, trying to make up a satisfying story that has to feature 30 random prompts in a specific order and feature 17 different characters when you only came in with the desire to make a comic instead of to share a story, is really, really hard 😅

What I can say about the story is that it would have had David as the protagonist, with Xander and Teruko starring as fellow main characters. They would go on a quest throughout the kingdom and into the wilderness, encountering the rest of the cast (themed to various prompts) at various points along the way. For instance, you might be able to recognize Hu, Eden, and Min as representing the "magical girls" prompt, while Whit and Charles exemplified the "coffee shop" prompt. There was also a lot of lore, the details of which were also never fully fleshed out. If people are interested in hearing more about the story, maybe I can share the beginning of the script that I wrote out, and the layout sketches I made of what the first few pages would look like.

But yeah, unless I wind up reviving this story in some other form in the future, I don't think I'll ever wind up circling back to 2024's prompts. I'd be much more likely to either just wait until 2025's prompts come out, or continue making my own events, like the Secret Santa and Valentine's Day series I've done. I guess I could maybe try to combine 2024's prompts with 2025's prompts to do two prompts per day? That sounds kinda interesting. But also really hard. No promises!

I have no idea if anyone was still anticipating these from me at all, but in my mind I did promise that I'd do the prompts eventually, and leaving that dangling thread was bothering me. Plus, I did like these designs, and hopefully you do, too! Probably so, if you're still reading this. Thank you for reading this! It's not a month's worth of comics or illustrations, but hopefully it was interesting regardless :)

[dingodad]

ok i have just a couple tinfoil hat type thoughts before i think i've run out of things to say about addendum 1. i've been hesitant to straight up say that Vriska is the one 'doing' these addendums / retcons / whatever we're choosing to call this phenomenon because I feel there are a couple points where it's not 100% clear that's the case? keeping in mind we've been fooled by these giant blue lasers before in the leadup to 8r8k.

first of all, if we are presuming this new Jane is done with her therapyquest then does she get some kind of upgrade too? it's doubtful that the theoretical "Hell Tier" Jane would get the same fiery powers that Vriska has, true, but just worth keeping in mind that she might be capable of these kinds of narrative feats on her own now.

on a similar note:

okay, Jasprose helped put Jane on the right track so she could be transplanted back into the main timeline, and she had some help doing that - but if Vriska was the one doing the transplanting, who's here with Jasprose? consensus seems to be Snowman, which makes perfect sense. fuck it - you're hanging out in midnight crew world who else are you gonna lez out with - and if that's the case then fine, Snowman's a tertiary character at best and I don't think her being here has to mean anything.

but the hands are throwing me off, because to my eyes they look for all the world like an artefacted photograph! which to me could mean one of two things:

the original 'Diamonds, Dames, and Dads' story where Snowman last appeared used a lot of stock photography assets, often more than a little crunchy. so it could be that depictions of Midnight City and its inhabitants will continue to pay homage to that photobash sort of style, which would be fun!

it's some other character, important enough and novel enough to be depicted wearing weird photobashed JPEG gloves. and given all that we currently know there only really seems to be the one feasible candidate for such a character?!?

where there are retcons, we traditionally expect to see John, and I've been reminded that John's glimpse into the exploding Plot Point included a table from Problem Sleuth - so if we're to assume that all of those visions had to do with John's future specifically, it's really not so crazy to think that we might find a future version of John dining in a Problem Sleuth world! looked at this way, even the fact that the drink being poured is some nondescript blank liquid - in a panel otherwise dominated by a lavender-noir palette - comes across as meaningful. (@utopianparadoxist makes other arguments for John being the party responsible for this retcon, though these revolve more around the wispy blue smoke of Jasprose's cigarette, which to me would suggest John having just left, not still sitting at the table...)

ALL THAT SAID, it is right about time hs2 showed us what Vriska's new powers are, and I'm tentative to approach the story like it's trying to trick me. John's powers certainly lend themselves to changing history so that Jane and Jake joined the battleship journey at the start; but Jasprose's presence here and on page 666 tells us that this is the same Jane and Jake from Midnight City, and - if we exclude for the sake of argument the possibility that this Jane and Jake are just older than everyone else on the ship (funny, but seemingly unlikely) - that means we're looking at a Jane and Jake from one story re-incorporated into the past of another story. that sounds to me like something new, and in terms of powers, Hell Tier Vriska is what's new.

what's still open-ended is just what the process of getting from Midnight City back into the main space looks like (if that really ends up being important), and just how much agency we can assign to the character responsible for that. while it seems plausible that getting Mrs. and Mr. Crocker from A to B is something Vriska could have intuited to do as part of her newfound understanding of the medium, the transformation of Deltritus from blue to pink is different; not only is it difficult to justify the importance of such an act on the cosmic scale John and now Vriska operate on, it's hard to imagine how one might even go about achieving such a result through simple manipulation of past events!

so even if we determine that transporting the Crockers is conceptually within John's capabilities, there's still something going on here without the precision that necessarily comes with using those juju powers.

[judgeanon]

So About That BATGIRL #1...

I put this review up in another site, but since folks here on Tumblr seem to be realizing I have a lot of Thoughts about Lady Shiva, I figured I'd transplant it here. So here's how I feel about it. The short of it is that I think it's a strong start with a few small quibbles because I'm not sure how much of Shiva's writing is her being intentionally OOC and how much is Brombal trying to humanize her.

The long is here:

Now, one of Shiva's main issues as a character ever since they finally split her from the League of Assassins (God bless you Bryan Hill) is that, instead, writers have stapled her to Cass. Literally every major Shiva appearance since 2017 has involved Cass in some way. That is a problem not so much for Cass, who gets to have her own stories and series with and without the Batfam (although mostly with), but for Shiva, who doesn't get nearly as much exposure as her daughter. If there's a Shiva comic coming out, odds are it's gonna have something to do with Cass. Well, except for the other Shiva comic coming out this month that's gonna suck shit.

But at the same time, I don't think that means nobody should ever do another Shiva/Cass story, because I still feel like that's rich soil that nobody has had the time, space or desire to really commit to mining. Hill in Outsiders was writing a whole ensemble cast and couldn't linger too long on them. Writers like Grayson and Cloonan/Conrad both teased Shiva trying to reconcile with Cass but never took it anyhwere. A Shiva/Cass story can still be compelling and interesting as long as the writer is willing and able to Actually Write It.

So when literally the first panel of this new issue is Shiva addressing Cass and their relationship directly, I'm already perked up. Right from the get go, you can tell that Tate Brombal is absolutely here to tell a story about these two women and pretty much nothing else, and also that Tak Miyazawa and Mike Spicer are a killer art team. I adore how hard Tak's figures look without (usually) being stiff, thanks to some solid body language and expressions. And Spicer's colors have a cool kind of dark-but-vivid look. The last leg of the issue, with everything illuminated by fire, is especially cool.

Going back to the opening, it's curous how despite this being an issue #1, there's very little in the way of character introductions or set up. There's no slow burn here, no lengthy creeping intro like previous Shiva/Cass stories. And while I can't help but feel that it must be a little awkward for readers unfamiliar with them or their current situation, I think it also accurately reflects one of my favorite parts of the comic, which is Cass' being just absolutely fucking DONE with her mom.

After years of hyper dramatic standoffs and tearful moments of cheap heartbreak, it's fun to see a Cass who has no time for her mother, who's not interested in what she's got going on, and who's confident enough in herself to even be a little shit about it. It's fun and refreshing and fits Cass very nicely.

That not-quite-breakneck but still fast pace keeps up when the Unburied show up after just a few pages of setup and you know, in a couple of interviews, Brombal mentioned being influenced by Daredevil. And this is the page that made me go "Ah, yeah, that tracks." 'cause brother, those are some MILLER-ass ninjas.

Why Shiva fears these guys or thinks Cass can't handle them is not yet explained, but her desperation to keep Cass around does lead to a small but very meaning-heavy moment: the first punch in this series is not thrown into the face of the new enemies, but it's Cass decking her mom in the face and Shiva loving it.

It's an excellent touch and a perfect mission statement about the series. I love it as much as I love the ensuing fight, full of cool moves in big and small panels, but the most fun thing to me is how it's choreographed as Cass fighting her mom almost as much as she's fighting the Unburied. And on top of being a great fight, it ends with a small nod to QUESTION #1 or the 'Tec '88 Annual, in case I was somehow not sold enough already.

And while I still love Cass being so willing to call Shiva out on her lies, it does bring up one of the small gripes I have with this issue: I don't like it when Shiva lies constantly. I think she's best when she's strong and confident enough to not need to lie, when she just lays everything out on the table the way this comic is almost doing. It's good for Cass, as it keeps showing her as someone who has grown to understand her mother, who sees Shiva for who she is and what she does. And it does set up a slightly heartwarming scene at the end.

Of course, that's personal preferrence, and I'm not gonna say this is a bad comic because it doesn't follow my own idea of what works best for Shiva, especially since it's clear that Brombal is writing her with a lot of intention here. But that leads to the other big-ish issue I have with this issue: it's a bit hard to tell, from this story alone, how much of these moments are Brombal building his own personal version of Shiva and how much of it is Shiva, in-universe, acting out of character for the sake of some hidden scheme. After all, Cass points out that twice in the issue Shiva backs down, first from a moral fight and then from an actual fight.

So it's possible that even the constant lying is Shiva playing a role in favor of a grander scheme which will be revealed in later issues. Which, fair enough, I'm willing to see where it goes. But that second moment of yielding does lead to what's maybe my biggest problem with BATGIRL #1, and it's the Unburied themselves.

There's nothing in that initial fight with the Unburied that suggests Shiva and Cass would've had trouble dealing with them. Hell, there's very little to suggest even one of them would've had trouble with them. Now, I'm not suggesting that this issue should've started with the titular character and her mom getting their asses handed to them. But it feels like there's just not enough to these new enemies yet to justify the escape. Ninjas show up, Cass and Shiva beat them without getting hit once, more Ninjas show up and Shiva self-defenestrates herself.

Again, entirely possible that Shiva has something up her sleeve here, and issue #2 did promise to show us the main villain behind them, but as it stands it leaves me with this weird mix of not quite intrigue, not quite disappointment. It's just odd. They could've had, I dunno, a bomb set in the building or some other reason for Shiva to exit the venue like that.

Speaking of odd things, however, I did NOT expect to be reading a comic that brings up Shiva's cult from Puckett/Scott's BATGIRL #25. It's an "Order of Shiva" now though, with chapters and temples and stuff. Which is a bit of a change, since back in #25 they came off more like a gang of fanboys than an order of servants or anything like that. And after being summarily disposed by Shiva in that same issue, they were never really explored again.

So this is Brombal not just bringing back a bit of old lore, but also shifting it slightly, turning it into a more organized group... and then summarily disposing of them one panel later.

Also, I don't know what it is but I *LOVE* this panel. Shiva's face, her "wut" pose, the O.O, it's just... beautiful.

Anyway, once they're in the temple for the last bit of the issue, I start to see a bit more of what Brombal's doing. Like Gail Simone and Bryan Hill, Brombal seems to want to soften Shiva up a little, to make it clear that deep inside, she does have at least a bit of a heart, or enough of it to feel sadness at the wasteful death of people she may feel like she owes something to. Compare it to BIRDS OF PREY #62 for example:

This one is not quite as dramatic or vulnerable, but it's clear that Brombal wants to write Shiva with a slightly more human heart. Which, again, I'm not opposed to but I don't think it's the best thing you can do with her. I prefer Shiva being more detached in regards to death, like the most she'll do is see it as a waste but she's not gonna get emotional about it, she's going to be way more matter-of-fact. Death happens and such. But I think that kind of aloofness often gets interpreted as monstrous disdain for life by writers trying to make Shiva into a villain, and if I had to choose between what Brombal's doing and what, well, what Tom King's probably gonna be doing in a few weeks, I'll take this anytime.

Anyway, I also didn't expect to see the apprentice from BATGIRL #26, having apparently gotten a promotion somewhere in the last 20 years. Good for him! Less good for him is the shitload of arrows he eats two pages later but oh well.

The last couple of pages lead to a nice moment of sheer badassery for both Shiva and Cass and one last showcase of Miyazawa and Spicer's glorious team effort. Those two work really well together and I'm excited to see more of them in future issues. And while we're at it, I gotta give props to Miyazawa for being one of maybe two artists to draw a visibly older Lady Shiva.

His version isn't just aged but hardened by that age, looking stern and determined without having to rely on gritted teeth or angry looks. And on top of all that, he still finds more than enough moments to give her the kind of cocky smiles that bring out the more playful side of Shiva that some stories tend to either gloss over or turn into outright sadism.

Man... I just love to see that momma smile.

Other than that, there's a couple of minor quibbles I have with the issue. There's a funny moment where Cass pulls a Batman on her own mother (who charmingly acknowledges Bruce's influence) but it's undercut by Cass poofing back into existence on the next page. And there's also the weird, almost surreal emptiness of the city around them. Even after a building explodes, there's literally nobody on the streets other than Shiva and Cass.

On one hand, it speaks to the intentions of this run. This is VERY much a two-woman show so far, with no room for much else. But it's still glaring enough to be distracting.

However, it's that intentionality that ultimately wins me over. Even with all my personal little issues with Shiva's characterization, it's obvious from the start that this is a writer who is genuinely trying to write her as a character, who is ready to engage with her and with her relation with Cass on a deeper level than just hero and villain, or good daughter and evil mom.

Brombal, Miyazawa & Spicer have put some meat on the grill, and although I don't think the biggest pieces are there yet... I'm ready to let them cook.

[princessmisery666]

Best Con Ever

Summary: It’s all fun and games until the truth is revealed.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: fluff, drinking, silly stuff, Jared being an annoyingly good friend (seriously, he wouldn't shut up!). 

W/C: 2,381.

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Alexander Calvert, Richard Richard Speight Jr.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x fem!Reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Challenge/Bingo: @jacklesversebingo Prompt/Square Filled: Making fun of one another 

Notes: Jensen is a single pringle for this one! 

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes are mine.

Graphics: dividers - @talesmaniac89 / picture in title card - @lemondropsonice - they were kind enough to grant permission to use when I asked.

Master Lists: Dean Winchester / Main

The special fan event is going so well. The intro includes party games, such as Pin the Wings on the Angel and Bowling with the Devil. The pins have pictures of demons from each season taped to them. There’s also a drinking game with “apple juice” because Jensen and Jared keep insisting “Jack” - Alex - isn’t old enough to drink yet. You’re a little buzzed, but it helps ease your nerves. 

“Ah, you said Supernatural!” Alex exclaims, pointing at Jared, and the audience collectively yells, “DRINK!”

Shots of apple juice that smell suspiciously like whiskey this time get passed around until the four of you have one, and then, as one, you shoot them back.

“Woo,” Jensen yells, sucking his teeth as he turns his back to the audience and looks at you. “Don’t let me fall over.”

“Only if you do the same for me,” you laugh. 

“I got you.” He turns to the audience again but puts his arm around your waist and pulls you into his side. 

Of course, the audience immediately awws and gasps. “Oh shhh, you lot,” Jensen playfully scolds, “I’m just holding her up.”

“Wouldn’t want her falling now, would we?” Jared says. “Unless it's for you. Ba-dum-tss.”

He gets nothing from the band. The drummer shakes his head.

“Oh, come on!” He complains. “That was good!”

This is your first event since joining the show at the end of season eleven, but it is not the first time a potential off-screen romance has been mentioned. You have seen videos of panels where fans have asked the question, and you and Jensen have each been approached by fans on the street. With Jensen’s arm wrapped firmly around you, you are sure you can get through it without making a fool of yourself.

Jensen has been a wonderful source of support from the beginning. You had been nervous about how the fans would react because you replaced the wonderful Megalyn Echikunwoke as Cassie Robinson, Dean’s love interest from way back in season one. The inconsistencies in appearance had been loosely explained, and it was somewhat plausible in the world of Supernatural, but that didn’t bother you so much. Being Dean’s love interest was what worried you the most. The fans are so protective, and rightfully so.

“They’re going to love you,” Jensen had said when you aired your concerns. “Just like I…we do.”

He was right. The reception to the reintroduction of Cassie couldn’t have gone better. The fans loved it and accepted you and Cassie Robinson with open arms. You’d read some comments, heard second-hand from producers, and when the fans started an online petition - for fun - to get you and Jensen to date in real life after seeing behind-the-scenes footage, Jared dubbed himself the President of the “Jensen and Y/N should be a couple IRL” club.

You and Jensen played along with it. It helped ratings, and it wasn’t a chore to have Mr Ackles’ undivided attention at parties and dinners to play up to the rumors. But that's all it is: rumors. The two of you are close, on and off set, but whereas Cassie and Dean are super hot, you and Jensen are lukewarm. Hugging Jensen - though it happens often - unfortunately doesn’t lead to sex like it would with Cassie and Dean.

Richard announces it's time for the fan questions and asks those selected to form an orderly queue behind the microphone. Though the questions have been pre-approved, you get a wave of anxiety as you don’t know what they will be, and you hope this portion of the event goes as well as the rest of the day. A fan asks how your first meeting with the cast went, and you look sheepishly at Jensen. 

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes but sighs in defeat. “Fine, you can tell it.”

“Better yet, reenact it!” Jared suggests. 

Your eyes light up with something akin to glee, and Jensen raises his brow and doesn’t need to ask the question in his eyes, ‘Really?’. You pout, bottom lip sticking out as far as it will go. “Please,” you draw out.

Reluctantly, making a show of it, and very slowly, Jensen gets to his feet, leaning closer to pretend to nip at your protruding lip. 

Jared shakes his arms out as he stands up, “I’ll play Y/N.” 

“The hell you will,” Jensen says, playfully pushing him out of the way. “Y/N will play herself.”

Jared comically falls over his chair to the ground as if Jensen’s push was twice the pressure it had actually been. 

You stand up in front of Jensen and wait for the laughing audience to quiet down. Jared stands straight and holds his microphone close to his mouth. “It was a bright winter morning, not a cloud in the sky,” he narrates in a poor impression of David Attenborough’s voice. “The beautiful and elusive beast, Jensen Ackles, notices a radiant creature across the lot. Slowly, he approaches…”

Jensen shakes his head at the crowd and rolls his whole head along with his eyes but obliges the narrator. He walks the few steps and shakes your hand with way too much enthusiasm. “Hi, I’m Batman. Dean. Ackles. I mean …” he groans, trying to dismiss his embarrassment, then blushes and says, “Hi.”

You laugh again, as does everyone else. Jensen grimaces just as he did on the day. “I’m going to walk into the sun now, sorry.” he strides around you to the end of the stage, and Jared steps up to take his place. 

Jared shakes your hand like a normal person. “Translation, that’s Jensen, for I think I just fell in love with you.” 

Jensen, with his back to the two of you, throws a thumbs-up over his head. “It went exactly like that!” Jensen confirms, nodding and shrugging as he makes his way back to his seat. “And now that we’ve all relived my embarrassment, let's move on.”

The microphone gets passed to the next person, and they ask, “Jared and Jensen are known for their pranks. Have they played any on you, Y/N?” 

“Oh yes!” you answer as Jensen takes his seat beside you and squeezes your knee. “I’m hanging like twenty feet in the air,” you begin.

“That’s like three Jared’s,” Richard adds, pointing to Jared on his left.

“Exactly,” you laugh, spreading your arms and legs out in a star to show the position you were in. “I’m full on Mission Impossible Tom Cruise-ing it, three Jared’s high off the ground, and the camera breaks.” 

The audience reacts with grimaces and chuckles. 

“They tell us it will be like ten minutes, and being the awesome trooper she is,” Jensen continues, flashing you a sweet smile. “She agrees to stay up there while they fix it.”

“Of course, it takes longer than ten minutes, so Jensen and I get bored!” Jared laughs, evilly rubbing his hands together.

“First of all, they decide to rub salt in the wound,” you shake your head, laughing at the memory. “They start doing lunges and star jumps, bragging about how comfortable and free they are.”

Jared and Jensen reenact their exercises, doing over-exaggerated lunges and squats, to laughter and catcalls.

“Stop it,” you say, around almost uncontrollable laughter. “You’ll split your pants.”

“Hey, watch it,” Jensen warns, pointing a finger, “my ass is not that big!” 

“Your ass is just fine,” you smirk, the audience agreeing with whoops and hollers.

“You're not so bad yourself,” Jensen counters, winking.

“Hey, hey,” Richard chides, shouting over the raucous audience. “This is a family show.”

“ANYWAY,” Jared says loudly. “Then we used her as target practice, trying to throw Skittles in her mouth.” 

“Let me tell you, at speed, those things are like bullets.” You explain, “I swear they chipped a tooth!”

“I’ll pay for any dental work,” Jensen confirms with a slight nod. “And to answer the question, Jared and I messed with the camera. We knew she’d get stuck up there.”

You shove his shoulder, and he teeters to one side before purposely overcorrecting himself so he’s lying across your lap. 

“We still need to get him back for that one,” Alex reminds you.

Jensen scoffs, rising to sit up again. “You tried and failed. Give it up.”

You and Alex simultaneously declare, “Never!” 

“Alex and I decided to team up and get them back,” you explain to the audience.

“They tried to get me,” Jensen says, “but Jared caught them, and he told me so it didn’t work. But they managed to get Jared,” Jensen begins laughing, unable to continue the story.

“All Y/N’s idea,” Alex insists, pretending to edge away from Jared.

Jared shakes his head, tongue sitting in the pocket of his cheek while he tries to look disgruntled but can’t hide the smile he tries to contain.

“It was genius,” Jensen manages around huffs of laughter. 

“We got the wardrobe department to take in his shirts and shorten his pants a little each day for a month,” Alex says. “But it only took two weeks before he started complaining about gaining weight and growing taller.”

Jensen’s laughter stops, his demeanor turning completely serious. “I cannot tell you how annoying he was about it!”

“I wasn’t that bad,” Jared protests. 

“Dude, you were bad!” Jensen counters, “You were googling if you could have a growth spurt after thirty. It’s all you talked about for two weeks. It was so annoying!” 

“That’s me, Jared Annoying Padalecki,” he says. Then has a lightbulb moment, or perhaps a whiskey-inspired one, and jumps off the stage. Everyone laughs as they watch him cheekily shove to the front of the question queue, dropping to his knees. 

“Hi, I’m Gen from Texas, and this is for Jensen,” he says in a higher pitched voice than anyone would expect could come out of the giant of a man. “I would like to know what your favorite scene to film was from the last season. And why is it the sex scene with Y/N from episode three?”

Jensen closes his eyes, face scrunched and lips pursed in mock annoyance as he flips Jared off.

“What a great question, Gen,” you chuckle, turning to stare at Jensen. “It was definitely one of my favorite scenes to film.”

“It was a fun day,” Jensen agrees. “Usually, sex scenes are super awkward and embarrassing, but it wasn’t. I mean, who wouldn’t want to spend a day in the back of Baby with all this,” he gestures toward Y/N, “on top of you.”

Jared gets to his feet, using a fan's shoulder to hoist himself up, and then bends to reach the microphone. “Follow-up question,” Jared begins, “this time for Y/N. Are you free for dinner tonight? Asking for a friend.” 

“Oh, for a friend,” you say, leaning to look around Jensen and at Alex. “Well, in that case, I’m free anytime, Mr Calvert.” you wink. 

Jensen leans forward, pointing a warning finger at him, “No!” 

“Urgh, Alex,” Jared groans, using a long leg to step back onto the stage, “you’re such a troublemaker!”

The next fan is given the microphone. “So it’s been twelve seasons; what mementos have you taken from the set?”

“Funny you should mention that,” Jared answers immediately, then sings, “Jensen’s in trouble. He stole the infamous demon Dean's red shirt.” 

Jensen throws his hands up, shaking his head. “I did not! I don't know who did, but it wasn't me.” 

Jared rolls his eyes. “So some ghost took it out of your trailer?” 

“Maybe,” Jensen shrugs. “This is Supernatural.” 

The drummer immediately punctuates his response, the hiss of the snare still echoing as Jared stands up in protest. But the audience is too quick, and they yell, “DRINK!” 

“You lot are a bad influence,” Jensen tells them as you all make your way to the drinks table at the back of the stage.

You hold your microphone down while Richard pours the shots. Leaning closer to Jensen, you ask, “Are you really in trouble because of it?”

Jensen scoffs, “No, of course not. But they need it for a photo shoot, and they want to auction it off for charity. They’ve been on my ass for weeks.”

“Oh.” 

“Oh?” Jensen asks, very much channeling Dean in his expression. “Do you know something about it?” 

You wince, trying to feign innocence, but it's no good. You know you’ve been caught out, and you’ll have to give it back. “I took it,” you confess.

“What? Why?” 

You can’t think of a lie quick enough. So with a nonchalant shrug, that's all for show because you don’t feel it at all, you admit, “I like it. It's a nice shirt to sleep in, and it smells like you.”

“If you want something that smells like me, you can have me!” Jensen blurts out loud enough that the mics lowered at your sides pick it up.

The fans erupt, screaming and shouting. They get to their feet and clap. Alex and Jared talk over each other, but it all becomes white noise as you stare at Jensen, who stares back. 

“Screw it,” he says, and you're the only one who hears it. But everyone sees him take a small step into your space and place a gentle kiss on your lips. He pulls back enough to look at you for any reaction, and when you lightly smile, he slips a hand down your cheek and draws you in closer for a deeper kiss this time. 

The crowd goes wild. Your ears will be ringing for days.

Jensen keeps the kiss PG13, but you go as far as wrapping a hand around the back of his neck. It ends too soon, but you remind yourself that you are being watched. He leans back, smiling happily. “Sorry if that was out of line.”

“The only thing that was out of line was how long it took you to do that.” 

He shrugs one shoulder, tongue sitting behind his teeth. “Sorry.”

Jared tries to get control of the audience, but it doesn’t work. Jensen walks to the edge of the stage and holds up a hand, silencing them with the simple gesture. 

Once it's quiet enough, he smiles, boyish and wide. “Best. Con. Ever.”

Master Lists: Dean Winchester / Main

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[perfectwitchcrown]

Make the Exorcist Fall in Love – Witches Part One

Ok, I finally finished this meta! I've broken it into two posts because it was getting a little too long. I’m covering some of the literary and historical references that Ekuoto plays with in regards to its witches hehe.. Regardless of whether Arima Aruma and Fukuyama Masuku are engaging with the actual history of witchcraft beliefs or the way it’s been filtered down into the contemporary cultural consciousness, I think it’ll be fun to present the real-life inspirations behind these ideas. Scholarly sources are cited so you can feel free to check out the information I discuss, and links are provided occasionally when I got lazy. All citations are in MLA form at the end of the second part because I didn’t feel Chicago footnote format would function well on Tumblr, so I apologize for any issues with the citations as I’m rusty with MLA. Take this all with a grain of salt, as I’m not an expert and also had to cover a lot of regions/periods of time. Hope you enjoy!

Content warnings for discussion of sexual violence, execution, images of cartoon nudity and violence (all Ekuoto panels), also major spoilers for Ekuoto and minor spoilers for Berserk, the movie Perfect Blue, and the movie The Craft

Link to Part Two of the meta (including works cited)

Witches – what did it mean to be a witch? Demonic Pacts, witch marks, and more

First off—what is a witch? This question is actually deceptively difficult to answer. For example, you can’t simply say that a witch is someone who practices magic: that’s too broad. “In September 1398 the theology faculty at the University of Paris approved a set of twenty-eight articles condemning the practice of ritual magic”—the targets of this were largely clerics (Levack 49), and there seems to have been a decent number of them (Apps and Gow 126). Those accused of witchcraft were considered distinct from these magic using priests for whom “this magic was practiced with grimoires or books of learned enchantments” (not that this was approved of by the church either) (Mackay 30-31).

What a “witch” was, is also something that could be wildly different depending on time and place. There was, however, a coalescence of ideas during the 15th century in Europe, followed by the “witch craze” of the Early Modern period (16th-18th centuries), in which there were an uptick in witch trials, provides an answer to what a witch is that has had a lasting impact in our present cultural consciousness (Witch Trials in Early Modern Europe and New England). This definition of witchcraft, then, I think, is the most relevant one to consider in this meta, although it will require a bit of generalization.

Essential to understanding this coalescence of ideas about witches is a book known as the Malleus Maleficarum, or “The Hammer of Witches,” a text on witchcraft published in 1486 by two Dominican friars, an order that focused on heresy (Mackay 1-2). Please note that mention of heresy, as it will be relevant later. How, then, did it imagine witches?

Christopher S. Mackay, in the introduction to his translation of the Malleus Maleficarum, calls this construction of witchcraft “the elaborated concept of witchcraft,” and defines it as follows (this is a direct quotation I just can't format it right on Tumblr LMFAO):

A pact entered into with the Devil (and concomitant apostasy from Christianity)

Sexual relations with the Devil

Aerial flight for the purpose of attending:

An assembly presided by Satan himself (at which initiates entered into the pact, and incest and promiscuous sex were engaged in by the attendees),

The practice of maleficent magic

The slaughter of babies. (Mackay 19)

The Malleus’s construction of witchcraft “represented a special form of heresy that played an important part in Satan’s plans for the Final Days” (Mackay 33) and borrowed elements from accusations made against earlier heretical groups (Saunders 85-86). It focused on women from the lower classes as opposed to priests who were practicing magic (Mackay 30-31). Heresy is key then to understanding witchcraft in this period. The Malleus’s construction of witchcraft also had a sexual focus, repeatedly bringing up the impact of demons on the genitals (Garrett 38). For example, there’s a whole section that details whether or not witches can take your penis away. The Malleus’s findings? No, but they can cast an illusion that makes it appear as though your penis is gone (Mackay 323-329). Breathtaking.

In Ekuoto, we see that the what makes someone a witch is a demonic convent, which involves erasing their names from the book of life and writing it in the demon lord’s book of death (which I will go further into depth on in the section on Sabbaths!), receiving a seal on their body, and merging bodily fluids through kissing or sex.

This process actually is pretty faithful to early modern beliefs about how one became a witch. The Malleus describes the process as involving a “sacrilegious avowal,” in which witches either make this vow to serve the demon ceremonially “when the sorceresses come to a certain assembly on a fixed day and see the demon in the assumed guise of a human as he urges them to keep their faith to him, which would be accompanied by prosperity in temporal matters and longevity of life.” While there, a new witch-to-be would be presented, and if determined to be “ready to renounce the Most Christian Faith and Worship,” signs themselves over (as in with a literal signature) (Mackay 281, 283). Non-ceremonially, a demon might just pop up when someone is in trouble and promise to help them if they help him (Mackay 286-287). So, here we see the idea of witchcraft granting long life and a physical signing over of the self to a demon.

But, witchcraft beliefs weren’t only constructed by books like the Malleus Maleficarum—those accused of witchcraft also contributed to these beliefs in their confessions (Roper Witch Craze 117).  As historian Lyndal Roper in her book Witch Craze describes of Early Modern witch confessions from Germany, “Intercourse with the Devil was the physical counterpart of the pact with him—and it was sex with the Devil which many accused witches talked about at length, rather than the pact which, according to demonological theory, actually made them Satan’s own” (Roper Witch Craze 85). Roper speculates that a large reason for this that many accused during this time period were illiterate, and so in their confessions, sex as the form of pact appears far in confessions than physical signatures (Roper Witch Craze 85). Regardless, we can see this as where Ekuoto borrows the idea of sex or kissing as a part of the demonic convent.

Sometimes, in these confessions, we also saw that the Devil would “give the witch a special diabolical name” as a sort of reversion of the baptismal process where a Christian name would be gained (Roper Witch Craze 116). Vergilius taking a new name as a part of his demonic pact then is completely in line with historical views of witchcraft, which I think is very fun of Arima Aruma.

Another idea of that shows up regarding people becoming witches is the idea of witch’s marks and devil’s marks, which were pretty significant in English witch trials. A Devil’s mark was a mark that was believed to have been left by the Devil when the witch becomes his, while the witch’s mark was believed to be a teat that the witch would use to nurse familiars their blood, although the terms were often conflated (Garrett 49-50). In England, searching for these marks was a major part of trials, and the experience was violating, the marks often being found near women’s genitals after they had been stripped of all their clothes, and pricked repeatedly on any mark that might be a witch’s or devil’s mark (Garrett 37).

Devil’s marks have been mentioned in Ekuoto, as seen in the earlier image, although we have not had any specifically pointed out. Vergilius’s heart under his right eye is likely a devil’s mark in my opinion, as he did not have it as a child when he was not a witch. I’ll be interested in seeing if it comes up and if there’s any significance to its shape. I could totally be wrong and it could just be like make up or a tattoo or something. This under the eye heart mark isn’t original to Ekuoto—heart patches for facial application have existed at least since the 17th century (not citing out of laziness but look up beauty patches), and under the eye heart make up was like a trend back in 2019 on Tiktok—but hilariously, 2012, when Marina and the Diamonds released Electra Heart, featuring MARINA with a heart mark under her eye, is also is presumably the year Vergilius became a witch (based on Daniel’s statement in one of the chapters that he’s been active for a decade). Maybe he’s just a really big Electra Heart fan lol.

The Witch’s Sabbath

A witches Sabbath was “where witches gathered to worship the Devil, dance, feast, indulge in sexual orgies, and practice cannibalism and infanticide” (Apps and Gow 120). As previously mentioned, the book Malleus Maleficarum set the stage for a lot of early modern witch beliefs within Western Europe. This text was written within a school known as demonology, “Commonly viewed as a branch of theology, philosophy and metaphysics” (Roper “Witchcraft and the Western Imagination” 119). Demonological descriptions of the witches Sabbath are an example of elite construction of witchcraft beliefs, and they focused on Christianity inverted: “The witches were bent double, candles in their anus, and in the place of the kiss of peace in the Mass, they had to kiss the Devil’s anus (Roper Witch Craze 113).

Of course, as also has been mentioned before, Early Modern witchcraft beliefs were also shaped by those accused of witchcraft drawing from their own experience in confessions. The dance, an element of the witch’s Sabbath, appeared in Witch’s confessions as an inversion of their village dances (Roper Witch Craze 107-108, 111, 116). At these dances it was said that music might be played on the fiddle and the bagpipes (Roper “Witchcraft and the Western Imagination” 128).

Make the Exorcist Fall in Love both presents the witches Sabbaths using ideas of inversion of Christian doctrine and of social gatherings with dance and music. For one, the witches set up shop in an abandoned church in France, where they place a statue representing Beelzebub in the sanctuary. Symbolically, then, they’ve inverted the worship of God to the worship of a demon.

Additionally, you can see the Witches lined up to kiss the statue on what seems to be a phallic protrusion. They’re inverting, then, the kiss of peace the same way historically witches were thought to kiss the Devil’s anus. Roper has a description of a woodcut that bears similarity to this image, describing it like so: “At the centre of the image, witches perform the anal kiss on a giant goat, while long lines of assorted pairs of Devils and witches wind their way in a snake like spiral around the picture, playing phallic-looking bagpipes and horns” (Roper “Witchcraft and the Western Imagination” 137-138). Now, traditionally this kiss is delivered on the anus rather than the phallus, but I’m not an expert so I can’t speak to whether there were regional descriptions of Witch’s Sabbaths that varied that Make the Exorcist Fall in Love is drawing from. I can say, though, that Berserk’s portrayal of a witch’s Sabbath, which imagery-wise definitely seems to draw from woodblock representations, does feature the diabolic kiss being received on the phallus rather than the anus. It is possible that this scene was visual inspiration for Ekuoto’s witch’s Sabbath. For those who are interested in independently checking what I’m talking about, it’s in chapter 139 of Berserk.

Now, in the same above panel in Ekuoto, we also see that the witches are singing a song. This song is an inversion of the Anglican hymn “Holy Holy Holy”—the original lyrics, that the witch’s invert, are “Holy, Holy, Holy! Though the darkness hide Thee, Though the eye of sinful man, thy glory may not see: Only Thou art holy, there is none beside Thee, Perfect in power in love, and purity.” The hymn is originally about the trinitarian god, so this inverted version becomes a worship of Beelzebub.

If you want to give the original song a listen, here’s a link to a recording:

This song later also appears in the flashback to the 2011 Beelzebub fight (where, interestingly enough, an eclipse is featured very prominently. Eclipses are pretty common “ooh spooky eek” imagery but it also made me wonder if there’s potential visual influence from Berserk). This also further establishes it as a song associated with Beelzebub.

Inversion also shows up outside of the Sabbaths in Ekuoto. Dante in the below images is invoking the Trinitarian formula: “in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” which is from Matthew 28:19 in the Bible. Verge, and other witches in Ekuoto, invert the Trinitarian formula: “in the name of the mother, the daughter, and the evil spirit.” Not only is this an example of inversion, but it also aligns with a neopagan concept, the Triple Goddess (although usually the triple Goddess is expressed as the Mother, the Daughter, and the Crone). I’m not going to cite this because I’m lazy, but if you want you can check this one out on Wikipedia. The Triple Goddess in neopagan beliefs harkens back to older religious forms where goddesses appeared in groups of three—one of these, from Hellenistic religious beliefs, is associated with witchcraft: Hecate was associated with magic, and often depicted in a triple form (Also too lazy to cite this but you can check this out also on Wikipedia in both the Triple Goddess (Neopaganism) page and the Hecate page. You can also check it out on Encyclopedia Brittanica). Interestingly, and as I’ll touch on later, Baba Yaga also sometimes appears in three forms in folklore (Forrester xxxiv).

Walpurgisnacht

Now, the description of the woodblock of a witch’s Sabbath mentioned in the previous section wasn’t of just any Sabbath—it was a Sabbath on the Brocken, where according to legend witches would have a Sabbath every year on Walpurgisnacht (Roper “Witchcraft and the Western Imagination” 137-138).

Walpurgisnacht is on April 30 into May 1st, and is an actual real life religious holiday, celebrating the canonization of Saint Walpurga. It’s celebrated through festivals, some of which involve dancing around bonfires. In the 17th century, a book written by Johannes Praetorius cited the peak of the Harz mountains in Germany, the Brocken, as a site in which witches would meet for a Sabbath on the eve of May 1st (Weishaupt). It was this book, the Blockesberges Verrichtung, that features the woodblock mentioned in the Sabbath section, and would inspire some of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s drama of the mind, Faust (Roper “Witchcraft and the Western Imagination” 135-138). Faust also has a famous presentation of Walpurgisnacht on the Brocken (Weishaupt).

So yeah, Ekuoto’s mention of Walpurgisnacht is in reference to this! Moving on to what they’ve also mentioned in conjunction to Walpurgisnacht:

Baba Yaga

First and foremost, Baba Yaga has nothing to do with Walpurgisnacht in folklore, this is an invention of Ekuoto. The Harz mountains are in Germany, whereas Baba Yaga is a figure in Slavic folklore.  

Stories in which Baba Yaga appears often have several themes: “she lives in the forest, which is her domain” (Zipes VIII); that her house has chicken legs (Forrester XXVII); that her “house may be surrounded with a fence of bones, perhaps topped with skulls (Forrester XXVIII). She sometimes also has a black cat (Forrester XXVIII). Jack Zipes, in the foreword to Baba Yaga: The Wild Witch of the East in Russian Fairy Tales, describes her as “not just a dangerous witch but also a maternal benefactress, probably related to a pagan goddess” and “inscrutable and so powerful that she does not owe an allegiance to the Devil or God or even to her storytellers” (Zipes VIII). Sibelan Forrester, in that same book, describes her as “both a cannibal and a kind of innkeeper, a woman who threatens but also often rewards” (Forrester XXXV). Skulls with light coming out of their eye sockets shows up in the fairy tale Vasilia the Beautiful—“the eyes of all the skulls on the fence lit up, and the whole clearing became light as midday” (Forrester XXXVIII, XLIV, 175).

Now, so far in Make the Exorcist Fall in Love, we’ve been presented with Baba Yaga as a witch who Satan calls different from the other witches, who tried purifying the angry souls of those killed by the church until she became corrupted by their rage and desired the power to kill god, and has at least three contracts with Satan, Asmodeus, and Beelzebub (but not Leviathan). She also appears as a black cat.

The parts that most clearly draw upon traditional Baba Yaga folklore are the skulls, the chicken legged house in the middle of the woods, and the idea of her being a total wildcard. As far as I can tell, the backstory they’ve given her about purifying souls killed by the church is completely original to Ekuoto, although it could be in reference to either some piece of folklore or literature that I’m not familiar with. Traditionally, the bones and skulls in Baba Yaga’s home are presumably a threat that the hero might next be a victim of hers (Forrester XXIX). Here, they are victims of the church.

The closest thing I have been able to find is the invented backstory is from Dubravka Ugrešić’s book, Baba Yaga Laid an Egg, published as part of the Canongate Myth Series (themed around reinterpreting international mythology): “That they would finally stop bowing down to men with bloodshot eyes, men who are guilty of killing millions of people, and who still have not had enough. For they are the ones who leave a trail of human skills behind them, yet people’s torpid imaginations stick those skulls on the fence of a solitary old woman who lives on the edge of the forest” (Ugrešić’ 243). Here also the skulls are affiliated not with her cannibalism but the killings of patriarchal power. The book was originally published in Croatian and has several different languages it is available in translation, although, as far as I can tell, Japanese is not one of them, so I don’t know how familiar Arima Aruma would be with it.

I’m also fascinated by the beheaded, veiled skeletal figure with the large stomach wound we see who points towards Baba Yaga’s house. Baba Yaga is sometimes presented as a mother (Forrester XXXVIII) and the large stomach opening to me almost looks like the surgical removal of a child from the womb, although that may be a stretch.

Contemporary c-sections are also often horizontal, although historically in Europe and the Americas, up until developments in surgery and gynecology in the nineteenth century, they were only performed when the mother was dead or had no hope for survival. The images I’ve seen depicting c-sections in the 15th and 16th centuries seem to depict vertical incisions though, which lines up more with this figure’s wound. (I’m not citing these but will provide links: https://www.webmd.com/baby/what-happens-during-c-section; https://www.nlm.nih.gov/exhibition/cesarean/part1.html ). I think it would also line up with some of the other imagery that’s been established in series, such as the wound/vagina/pregnancy image combo we got in the first chapter with Asmodeus.

It's also been implied that she had something to do with binding Beelzebub from entering Germany:

That file really closely follows the contours of a Baba Yaga fairy tale—getting lost in the forest, the flaming bone torch like in Vasilia the Beautiful. I’m extremely fascinated by the way in which Baba Yaga is being presented in Ekuoto and can’t wait to see more about her motivations.

Continued in Part Two

[umbrellajam]

okay so I did end up last minute deciding to go to WonderCon yesterday and I'm glad I did, the panels were SO good. the whole con is so much more comics-focused than more general pop culture cons that I've been to, and it's great.

below the cut for Mark Waid, Superman, Knightfall, MFitz, Tim Sheridan, Todd MacFarlane, and Jim Lee

Mark Waid: 50 Answers in 50 Minutes

Exactly, as it sounds, a quickfire Q&A session with Mark Waid.

Lots of fun anecdotes about his long career in the industry, how he got into Superman as a depressed rural teen, who felt that no one cared whether he lived or died, after going to see the first Christopher Reeves movie, and being stricken with emotion that "Superman cares about everybody." He walked out knowing whatever he did with his life, it would have to be something to do with Superman.

New History of the DC Universe! He mentioned that this is something that DC has been wanting to do since before he even came back to DC, and then when he did, he made it clear that he would "burn the place to the ground if he wasn't allowed to do it", lol

120 pages of Barry Allen journeying from the beginning of the DC universe to the end (and beyond), and there will also be a detailed timeline at the end for anything they aren't able to cover in the fully illustrated story sections, so everyone's favorite characters/events will be able to be included

Writing the DC Universe Animated Movies

Tim Sheridan (Batman: The Long Halloween), Meghan Fitzmartin (Justice Society: World War II), Jeremy Adams (Batman: Soul of the Dragon), Jim Krieg (Justice League: Crisis on Infinite Earths), Ernie Altbacker (Justice League Dark: Apokolips War)

very chatty bunch, lol.

there was a fun question that got them all talking about the struggles of adapting comics; Tim Sheridan mentioned if he attempted to do a direct adaptation of The Long Halloween, with all 12 months, in the original single 72 minute movie that he'd been given, there would have to be a murder approximately every 5 minutes. so the team (I think Jim Krieg mainly?) went to DC and asked to make it a two-parter, basically doubling their budget, and fortunately they agreed!

also during the Q&A, a comics journalist slyly asked for news about the rumored upcoming Knightfall movie(s).

I'd been looking something up on my phone at the time, and as soon as I heard "Knightfall" my whole body jerked like I'd been zapped and my head came up to stare at them with the burning eyes of a hunting dog, lmao

The whole panel immediately went wooden and tight-lipped, mentioning that a particular higher-up (can't recall the name) would have their heads on a chopping block and they "can't say anything about that".

Until chatterbox Jim Krieg also immediately went something like, "YEAH, unfortunately we can neither confirm nor deny that THOSE MOVIES ARE GETTING MADE ;| (stone-faced wink)" while the other panelists face-palmed

KNIGHTFALL MOVIES. PLURAL. \o/!!!!!

DC: Superman with Mark Waid and Dan Slott

Mark Waid, Dan Slott, and DC Editor-in-Chief Marie Javins

They talked about letter columns a bit, all three had done stints answering letters back in the day.

Marie Javins mentioned that the reason they don't do letter columns anymore is because they don't get enough letters u_u but that they would want to bring them back if more letters were sent in!

Very fun look at the upcoming Summer of Superman, including Superman Unlimited (Slott), and Action Comics (Waid).

Definitely timed to be a good jumping-on point for new fans who hopefully fall in love with the new Superman movie

Waid was invited with a number of other Superman writers to tour the set of the movie, but unfortunately was booked for a con in Europe that conflicted so he had to miss it (and was super, super bummed). But everything he's seen and heard from other people indicates that we're all going to love it. (Fingers crossed!!)

Waid fell in love with Clark Kent's Superboy in particular because of shared history, rural background basically like Smallville, isolation, etc., and is very glad that they've re-established his history with the Legion and being a young Superboy trying to figure things out.

Which is what his Action Comics is also going to cover! The pitch sounded a lot like the Smallville TV show, tbh, including having a young Lex Luthor that Clark befriends because he's the only one Clark finds in Smallville who can kind of keep up with him and talk about the kind of big issues that he's wrestling with.

I tend to prefer Clark meeting Lex as adults in Metropolis, personally, but it looks like it will be a fun time.

Two Legends - Jim Lee and Todd McFarlane

This was an absolutely fantastic panel. So apparently Jim Lee and Todd McFarlane were both going to be at the con and have separate panels, but then MacFarlane looked at the schedule, saw Jim Lee, and went oh, let's just do one big panel together! It was basically just a structured chat between the two of them the whole time, going through their individual histories, then how they met, their impressions of each other as peers coming up around the same time, and then how they formed Image Comics.

MacFarlane actually didn't get into comics until relatively late, age 16-17 or so, and he was a jock so it was something he kept a secret, comics were, as we all know, a weird shameful hobby, so he kept them literally in his closet. Where his girlfriend found them and he tried to pass them off as being his brother's, lol

MacFarlane's then-girlfriend ended up being his first editor when he was 17 and drawing his first proto-Spawn comic :) and then she, as his wife, was also his editor years later when they first put out the official Spawn #1 :) she was also in the audience at the con, very sweet

MacFarlane's parents were supportive of his interest, and got him his first drafting table as a Christmas present, which he drew all of his subsequent comics on and still has to this day.

Jim Lee kept making faces and - friendly! - jibes at MacFarlane's stories, because his parents were the opposite of supportive. They intensely disliked his interest in comics, hadn't immigrated from Korea for the American Dream of their son being a starving artist, he was supposed to study, study, study, and be a doctor! They would give him issues as a child just to like keep him occupied on long drives and such, but he said there were at least two incidents when he came home and his Mom had thrown out his whole collection (including like, Action #1….) and also when their car broke down one winter his dad stuffed a bunch of his comics under the tires for visibility or something. Yikes!

He was like "I had to buy my own damn drafting table, and I also still have it, and it's covered with drawings and contacts numbers of people in the industry, etc.

He eventually had a huge blow-up fight with his parents at like 20-21, left the house and just walked away. But. It was in the middle of the suburbs at night, he didn't know where he was going, the Greyhound station was like 10 miles away, lol. Luckily his dad went after him and brought him back, and they ended up talking it over after seeing how passionate he really was about it. He'd been pre-med in college, and was basically all set to apply to medical school, but would take a year off to try and make it in comics, promising he would go back to med school and like, "save people's lives, make the world a better place or whatever 😒' if he failed, lol

Lots of other fun stuff in here as they went over their journeys getting into the industry, Jim getting his break from just showing his portfolio to a big name Marvel person at a con and just getting invited into their offices for another look, and immediately getting hired for Alpha Flight, then Punisher, then eventuall taking on the biggest title at the time, X-Men. MacFarlane was also at Marvel, but took on the much lower Amazing Spider-Man, which was down at like #28 in sales, and worked to bring it up, as opposed to Lee who had to maintain a juggernaut and push it to even greater heights.

They both eventually got sick of Marvel's shit, and first MacFarlane with Rob Liefeld and a couple of others decided to leave and form their own company, Image Comics.

MacFarlane ran into Jim Lee by happenstance at a comics art auction the day before their big meeting when they were going to quit Marvel, MacFarlane told Lee why he was there and gave him the rundown on their plans, and Lee basically went, huh. Can I come with you to the meeting?

Which was a HUGE deal because while the others already in on the plan were kind of rebellious types that Marvel might be happy to see the backs of, Jim Lee was a Golden Boy, lol.

Funniest part was that, after the meeting the next day where they told Marvel they were hitting the road, MacFarlane then dragged them both over to DC to make a big production there as well.

DC was like salivating at this point because artists/creators typically ping-ponged between the two companies, so if this whole group of superstars were ditching Marvel then holy shit, yay, huge windfall for DC to scoop them up! There were a ton of people in the meeting, assistant editors and such all excited - but no, MacFarlane called the whole thing just to give them the middle finger too and go "we're never working for you again, either!!"

Poor Jim Lee had never worked for DC or done anything for them at that point, and as mentioned before he was a Boy Scout/Golden Boy type who, uh, wanted to make a living and have a career in the industry, so he was 0_0 about this, like "what if our thing fails and I end up needing to work at DC… what if I end up running DC 😏" (big cheer from the audience). But he did end up going along with it, lol.

This was in an absolutely enormous conference room with a huge number of seats. It was about half an hour after the Superman panel so I just stayed in my seat from one to the other, and jeez, I'm glad I did, because I looked back at the end and the whole damn room was packed.

A Comics Coming Out Party

This was a kind of celebration/"coming out party" for pre-existing comics characters who had been later revealed to be LBGTQ+. Tim Sheridan (writer, Alan Scott: Green Lantern), David Booher (writer, Canto), Meghan Fitzmartin (writer, Tim Drake: Robin), Dylan Carter (cosplayer, co-host, House of X podcast)—and moderator Jack Phoenix (comics librarian)

Fun time, they gave out rainbow party hats and fans and we cheered/clapped through the slideshow.

Some things that I thought were interesting from MFitz:

She wasn't the first one to actually pitch queer Tim to DC! And she said that she thought if she had been, they wouldn't have allowed it. But because James Tynion IV had actually approached/discussed it with them before, there was kind of precedent, she had more support. I'm not sure if Tynion had a proper pitch for a story that he wanted to tell, or if these were just talks he'd had with DC, but yeah! cool stuff laying the groundwork.

MFitz literally went in with a Powerpoint of comics evidence re: all of Tim's queer subtext with her pitch, including Tim and Kon getting stuck in that closet together by Geoff Johns, Tim changing his entire costume for Kon, Tim trying to clone Kon back from death almost a hundred times…and the people she pitched to basically nodded and went, "Hm, yeah, you…may have a point", lol.

She basically went, "Look, y'all aren't doing anything with this kid, so I'm going to tell you what the story is."

It did make me laugh into my hands a bit when she went on to talk about diving into Tim's history because, rather than making up a new love interest, she wanted to include how this type of self-reflection and discovery often involves old friends, and going, "Hm," at him and Bernard and realizing "oh, what he finds when he goes looking inside himself is Bernard" - after she'd just gone on at length about how much of Tim's historical queer subtext involved Kon and how it was a huge basis for her pitch 😂

like. (jazzhands) sure. it was Bernard the whole time. totally.

(yes I know why DC wouldn't have let it be Kon. but it's still Kon lmfao)

Tim Sheridan is actually desperate to write Tim, apparently! He himself is gay, and was really into Bat comics around the time when Marv Wolfman was creating a new Robin, named "Tim"….who is now also queer….!! So yeah he wants to get his hands on Tim and explore those stories, which is fun to know

I kept waiting for an opportunity to ask whether MFitz thought Tim was currently in possession of his spleen, but never got an opening, lol.

[laufire]

mia dearden for the nsfw hc ask game! <3

Initially, I was going to insert here some jokes about Heteroooo Mia; comment on why I see her this way, and on certain fanon trends that go against this and why.

This got long, and I have a few more nsfw headcanons I wanted to share. Luckily, I got another ask about Mia, so I’ll be dividing this and posting the second part in a moment (ETA: here it is!). Also, given the character and the topic, warning for mentions of csa and child trafficking.

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about fandom’s approach to sexuality, about “queer headcanons”; about how I’ve personally moved further away from said approaches, if I ever followed it anything more than half-heartedly in the first place. And Mia happens to be a good case study to illustrate my points.

Fandoms are built largely on shipping. That’s just a fact, and it’s not something I particularly object to. I understand why it’s bothersome when that’s all there is, especially if you run countercourse, and especially in fandoms where everything is reduced to one pair of characters (or a trio involved in a ship war) to the detriment of everything else. But I can’t say I haven’t had my fun in the eternal game of smashing dolls together in various combinations. Dynamics and interactions between various characters happens to be one of the main things I’ll pay attention to in any given story; I enjoy a well-written romance, and I love to ask myself “what if…”, in any shape of form. My main fandom, all my previous main fandoms, are built on large, expansive casts, where there are several characters and countless relationships that hold my attention, and in those I’d be called a multishipper, even if usually, when I walk away, all but the few dynamics that retained most of my enthusiasm fade away in my memory.

So this is not an indictment against shipping, by any means. But there are approaches to shipping that I find less and less fitting to my own way of reading texts.

One is the “queer (most often bi) until proven otherwise” approach. Not because I think us queers are these freaks of nature, these aliens that don’t fit with the rest of the human experience. But because the vast majority of characters in the fandoms we move in, like it or not, have been written, with varying levels of awareness, with the intent of portraying heterosexual characters, and that has shaped them.

Some of them, taking a Watsonian approach in mind, wouldn’t change much, if they suddenly were queer, be it thanks to their particular personality or circumstances, or thanks to the context of the universe they live in. Such is life. But in many cases, likely more than I think fandom likes to acknowledge, this would be a more than significant alteration. And, instead, because it’s often filtered through shipping and which dolls we want to smush together to the detriment, and not alongside character exploration, a lot of m/m and f/f fandom content comes across as two straight people who just happen to fuck people of their same gender. And “fuck” might be a strong word, because sometimes any inkling of raw desire feels utterly absent.

Going back to Mia: I read her as heterosexual because that’s what’s in the text. This is a woman (a girl, when she starts) that likes men.

That is attracted to them, that gets passing crushes on them, that develops stronger feelings for them. Her interest in men over women isn’t limited to the romantic territory: her stronger bonds are with men. Ollie and Connor, of course. Dinah is her closest female bond, and that one is built largely off-panel and clearly not on the same level as the other two. She admires Roy and wants to take his mantle, follow in his steps (not just as Speedy II, but also on Roy’s activism and advocacy, by sharing her own personal stories, as he did). On the Teen Titans, the characters she has the most significant interactions with are Victor Stone and Tim Drake. It’s been a while since I read this, but I remember little to no bonding with the female Titans, barring a couple jokes to Rose on her very last appearance. We see one female friend of hers at school, very briefly.

I think it’s fair to say that Mia has an easier time interacting with men. And I can think of why easily. Yes, men are the people who hurt her most. They’re also who she was most used to. And I can see how her past as a trafficking victim, engaging in survival sex works while living on the streets, wouldn’t have been conducting to building solid friendships with other girls and women. Those bonds can be beautiful, but I can picture the kind of competitiveness she was facing in that environment, especially at 15 and younger. She tells Oliver that she took drugs to stay awake, a practice they all did to prevent assaults or robberies -the latter, at least in part, likely from each other. Because you can’t trust anyone 100%, because no one is trustworthy. Not even Mia, in such a dog eats dog world.

At one point, Mia brazenly references a sexual act she did involving other girls… and it was in the context of male clients paying for titillation. There’s absolutely no hint of Mia thinking of it beyond that. And a key detail here, is that this moment, not to mention the bulk of Mia’s character, especially pertaining her relationship with sex, was written by Judd Winick. An author who has never once been subtle about queer subtext (and, when allowed to, text). He even has a character of his own creation, Grace Choi, with a similar background to Mia as a trafficked child, a queer woman who only dates women. And yet, with Mia… nothing. Not even an inkling that she is remotely interested in anything but men.

Queer!Mia, and especially lesbian!Mia, aren’t readings that are accomodated by the text. They are, if not going actively against the text, at least way beyond its boundaries.

And that’s perfectly fine. But it means that you have to build them up, apart from the text.

I find that more and more, I prefer some kind of stronger foundation to built upon for these things, be it subtext (intentional or not, death of the author and all that) or, yes, shipping. Because seeing how a given characters interacts by members of their own gender vis a vis the other is something to build upon. There’s preciously little (nearly nothing, really) of that with Mia, and not seeing anything there to go from means I am not interested in that process, but that’s a matter of personal preference, if anyone else is, go ahead.

Go ahead with the awareness that a queer Mia, and especially a lesbian Mia (and, especially, as I’ve seen before, an amab Mia), is a different character. That these are non-canon readings. Ask yourself, how could this change her reactions to her trauma? Her relationships with Ollie? With Dinah, if she had latched on a safe, older woman to explore her feelings? With her diagnosis? With the Titans, maybe with her heroism? With the world?

Sadly, this isn’t what I see when I spy a lesbian!Mia headcanon in the wild. It’s either lip service, betrays a deep discomfort with the way this csa victim expresses interest in men, or *checks notes* becomes a rhetorical weapon against us ten Jason/Mia shippers.

And fuck, if that isn't boring. Not to mention quite offensive, as a lesbian, ngl.

[cupcakeslushie]

Do you have any tips on for people starting a comic and wanting to post to tumblr? Like pacing ect. Or well any experience you’ve had with your comics? Love your content as well ❤️

If it’s simply for fun, and you’re just trying to gain experience, my biggest advice would be to just START. Don’t worry about it looking perfect. Don’t worry about comparing it to other’s comics. Just try something, and if you find it’s not working, you can always change things up. I have gone through several styles and page layouts since starting. Do I wish those first pages of EW looked just like what I’m doing now? Yes, but if I’d waited around for perfection I would have never started. And I wouldn’t have had nearly as much fun creating it! If people like it, that’s great, but your art is for you. If you’re growing and learning and having fun, then you’ve accomplished something!

Now for some less preachy advice 😂…

—If your comic is gonna be hosted on Tumblr specifically, I would say, make sure you keep the 10 image limit in the back of your mind when you’re pacing things. That can definitely cause some headaches down the line. If you don’t plan ahead, and end up hitting it, you’ll have a sudden cut in your flow. This last update I knew it was gonna be long, so while I did plan, but I could’ve planned better.

—Variety is key!!!!!

Composition changes keep your viewers from getting bored. Sometimes I’ll find myself falling back into the bad habit of just doing the simple back and forth with two characters talking straight on, but changing the camera angle, making establishing shots when you change locations, and over the shoulder shots, etc etc…All these will make for a more interesting viewing. You may think a character needs to be in every single panel to make it interesting, but if you have a lot of dialogue, a simple plain shot—either in top of a solid background, or just over something boring, like a glance at the set, etc—this will let people focus on the words rather than splitting their focus.

Variety applies to shading as well—whether you’re using color or black/white. Variety in values are SO important for comics. You’re shoving a ton of information in a limited space, so try to keep your values different for items that are close together….it can make things very confusing and turn your line work into indistinguishable blobs if you shade without this in mind.

(Using this panel as an example….)

The top two panels have a variety of darker values and a halftone background—so the next two with Venus, I kept rather simple. I could’ve colored the buildings behind her, but then, she might’ve gotten lost amidst all the grey. There’s not really any trick or solid rule to this, but once you develop your creative eye, you’ll make these choices without even thinking about it.

A few links to helpful tools (they’re all procreate centered I’m afraid 😅)

Outline brush — a free tutorial for Procreate users. This brush kinda mimics the CPS feature that lets you create panels with a nice black outline. I used this brush very often, and it really gives your panels a professional look. Fair warning, it can be glitchy, but it’s free…

Manero Comic Bubbles and sfx — These brushes are not free, so I would recommend maybe getting in your groove before you try them out. They’re by no means necessary, but I’ve just started using them, and they save me so much time. There’s a HUGE selection of shapes, and they go on with a solid white background, so you don’t have to worry about coloring around your dialogue balloons.

[lynn-tged-posting]

tged webtoon ep 168 spoilers and thoughts that IM NOT LATE WITH FOR ONCE! KIND OF! YAY! and more below the cut

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OKAY. OKAY CAN WE TALK ABOUT THESE TWO PANELS WITH LLOYD AND JAVIER REALLY REALLY QUICK. i would save this for the end of the post since its closer to the end but im super impatient okay what else can i say. LOOK AT THE WAY JAVIER IS LOOKING AT HIM

HE IS LOOKING AT HIM SO DAMN FONDLY. WHAT THE FUCK. THERE IS WARMTH IN THAT GAZE I SWEAR TO GOD IM NOT CRAZY. "you're such a terrible person" AND HES LOOKING AT HIM LIKE THAT. WHAT. WHAT. WHAT. crazy. CRAZY.

the adaptor knew what they were doing . i swear it . like "yeah thats MY evil boyf. he's back to being evil and lively and his perfect bastard self." I SWEAR IT I SWEAR IM NOT CRAZY

this is proof of llovier. im so serious dont even joke lads

back to the top!

not much to say here lloyds expression is just so real sobs yeah . yeah,,, older gens having goofy ass back and forths over things that really arent the main issue here is universal

like i dont quite remember what season theyre in now but its past winter by this point and based on the two panels showing the time of day they had to have been arguing about this for AT LEAST FOUR HOURS 😭 LIKE WHAT THE FUCK (idk how accurate that estimate is im notoriously bad at time but still. a long fucking time) these BUFFOONS

also lloyd being dramatic as hell is so fucking silly HAHAHAHAHHAA

AND THEN THE LORDS FUCKING STARING AT HIM WHEN HE BRINGS UP THAT HE HAS AN IDEA. HELPPP all eyes on lloyd now !!! what brilliant idea do u have next thats absolutely totally not secured through lowkey social engineering!

so so SO happy w how confident he looks here heehee :3 whats with the pose tho lol is that a reference? maybe?

anyway they plan to make a train thru the pantara mountains? vantara? pan,,, idk what the correct translation is ive seen vantara and pantara

also lloyd just knowing exactly how to talk to those old ass political lords and understanding how to string them along idk what it is but i really really like that, it makes sense to me personally

i figure that thats probably something suho just Had to pay attention to back in korea, idk how korean politics works exactly but i imagine the principle of "person in charge can make or break a lot of things" still stands

so like it'd make sense that he pays attention to whoevers in charge of the finance stuff, which political figures care about money, and where that money goes, bc if they fuck with the funds for education thatll directly screw him over. idk if korea has financial aid but whatever equivalent that is that allows suho to get scholarships n stuff so he can stay afloat, if someone comes into power that will negatively affect his odds of getting that funding, he'll need to know and prepare! though maybe this is reaching a little too deep it might not be That Serious lmfao

again i really like how many of these confident / plotting expressions have been showing up IM SOO SO SO HAPPYYYY my schemer my little scheming guy he's BACK HES BACK

the two of them also look really really nice here in these two panels for some reason. i think im going crazy. i dont know why i like these panels its just. !??!?!?!?!??! like javiers hair is completely messy but idk i just ?!?!?!?!? im completely aro so its not like an attraction or anything but idk!?!??!?!?!

finally our first look at the overworld demons!!! these two kiddos seem super cute i really hope they dont . misunderstand or anything and that lloyd and javier can have some fun and heartwarming moments with them,,,, more sillies and soft fluff please!!!!! thats all i ask!!!!

okay that's all! not much to say this episode is just really really cozy to me. ok well as cozy as "lloyd frontera making evil expressions" can get LMFAO it feels like build up into the next section and im really excited to see what he's gonna do with this train idea and with the overworld demons...!!!!!

there was a notice at the end of the ep that the artist is taking a small break for their health so no ep next week, but there'll be one the week after i believe. we must be patient!!! rest well artist!!!!

that's it ill see yall in. two weeks? ill probably have some other yap post for the hiatus week idk, it depends on how my schoolwork goes. see yall then!!!!