#SHE APPLIED TO HER FIRST ACTUAL ART JOB EVER

[coulsart]

I applied as a character designer for a show hhhgjfj he jkdh,,, hdhjfjsjejdiwdnksks

[yuwuta]

I LOVE UR BRAIN SO BAD 😭😭😭 YOU ALWAYS POST THEBBEST HEADCANONS AND THOUGHTS LIKE. WORK HUSBAND GOJO. AND JUST HAVING A WHOLE IMAGINATION OF THE OFFICE W NANAMI AND HIGURUMA AND TOJI I?????? I WANT TO LIVE IN YOUR BRAIN

TEEHEEEE you’re so sweet <33333 the work husband to actual husband to househusband gojo pipeline is so so real to me and the office au that comes with it truly does take up space in my brain, so here’s some more loosely established points 

satoru has been your work husband since you got your first job in undergrad. you two met in your dorms, and became friends, and eventually you thought a job would help with your time management skills, so you got a very low-maintenance position at the front desk of the library. satoru applied right after you and schmoozed the two little old librarians into giving him the same shifts as you. that was probably the first moment satoru knew he was a little bit in love with you—because he had no reason to have a job while in school, but this small change in your schedule made him miss you so much that he was moved to get his very first job, probably ever, just to spend more time with you. 

he wasn’t bad at his library receptionist job, but he technically wasn’t good at it, either. if a student asked him for a laptop charger or to check out a book or something, he could do that, but anything else he’d just smile and say, “oh, you’ve gotta ask the pretty girl right there about that, she knows way more than me,” and bat his eyelashes at you. except, then, when you did need to get up to grab something for someone, satoru would just spring up instead, and tell you he’s got it. it’s like… he was incapable of helping anybody else unless he got to flirt with you, and then help you out to help them out……… strange boy 

anyways, satoru makes it a habit to assist you through your student jobs throughout undergrad, and then follows you to the same law school and repeats the process there. (also not to elle woods-ify him a bit but his father heavily questions him going to law school btw because satoru has never showed any interest in working, let alone following in his footsteps to be a lawyer, and now he’s going to law school? his mom is a bit sharper though, because when satoru tells his parents he’s going to the same law school as you, she just smiles and sips her tea and wonders if her son has already made a trip to their family jeweler). 

the firm is large, but the floor you work on is a pretty close knit group. there’s hiromi’s office at the tail end, which is the largest because he’s managing partner and he practically lives in there. on the other end, both you and nanami have decently sized offices. satoru doesn’t like hiromi at first because he thinks he’s mean. then satoru watches him play a little prank on kento, and suddenly the two of them are best friends. it would be a surprisingly wholesome friendship if their common denominator wasn’t irritating kento, and acting as guard dogs for you. 

kento’s office used to be just the bare necessities—law books, his degree, basic furniture, maybe a fancy paperweight, until satoru got his hands on it and decked it out. which is not something kento asked for, nor he thinks is necessary, but that doesn’t stop satoru from continually adding little trinkets and decorations and art to his office to make it livelier. when kento first meets you, he’s surprised when you tell him satoru gojo is going to be your secretary because kento interned for satoru’s father for two summers during law school, but when kento sees you and satoru together for the first time, it answers all of his questions. satoru couldn’t be more of a lovesick fool if he tried. 

listen the ex-convict to single father to janitor to lawyer toji pipeline is so real to me. while toji is working as a janitor at the firm, satoru slips once and then jokes that toji shines the floors too aggressively on purpose to make him slip, toji tells him to fuck off and he can sue for harassment. they truly don’t like each other at first, but once satoru steals toji’s masterkey to get into your office one night after you’re gone to leave flowers, and handle some paperwork to lighten your load in the morning, toji is sort of impressed. he still almost hits him with a broomstick, but even someone as gruff as him can see that satoru had pure intentions. toji is a lot of things, but he’s not immune to or devoid of love or passion. so, eventually he and satoru develop a weird sort of banter and respect for each other. one day someone actually tries to accuse toji of not putting the wet floor sign down and how it’s gonna be a lawsuit because some lowlife janitor fucked up his $3000 suit. satoru catches the argument as he’s heading upstairs and recognized the schmuck as the stuck up lawyer on the other side of kento’s case. satoru’s ready to jump in, but toji’s displaying an impressive amount of physical restraint and legal knowledge that when the dust is all settled, satoru asks him if he ever considered being a lawyer. toji laughs at it at first, but after a month of serious consideration (and megumi becoming a college freshman), he figures it can’t be all that bad. and turns out, toji’s a half-decent lawyer—once you’ve spent so much of your life skirting (or blatantly breaking) the law, you become pretty good at getting people out or around it, too. and with his life experience, he’s a pretty good judge of character; so when it comes time to lock up the bad ones, toji makes sure they get the maximum sentence.

except he has a bad habit of sending out emails with “URGENT: NEEDS ATTN” in the subject, which prompts you, kento, and hiromi to rush to his office, just to see toji with his feet up on his desk tell you that, “the emergency is i hate the opposing counsel, and now that i work on this side of the law i’d really like to not kill him, so somebody else should take this case.” 

anyways back to work husband secretary satoru. he pulls you out of boring meetings under the guise of an urgency, just for him to admit that the emergency is that he missed you, and you two were gonna be late for your lunch reservation. because he’s actually a licensed attorney, he can actually carry out duties an associate otherwise would, which saves you a lot of time and trouble; and it means that satoru gets to work even more closely with you, which is always an upside for him. sometimes you ask him to hand you documents and instead he just hands you his hand. and then pretends to blush and preen like a schoolgirl which always draws way too much attention to the two of you, but there’s no way to stop him either. he takes your coat off of your shoulders when you arrive in the morning, and helps you put it back on in the evening. when you tell him you’re looking for an apartment closer to the firm, he has eight places lined up for viewing, and one surprise at the end which happens to be the other vacant penthouse suite in his apartment building; which, conveniently, would make you satoru’s neighbor. he claims that it’ll be just like in college, but it certainly doesn’t feel that way when you finally move in and satoru can now loudly and proudly proclaim, “see you at home!” in the halls at work now. 

[lenialenient]

OUT NOW: REAL JOBS

Today's the day - the queer artist flatshare book is finally, officially, released and out in the world!

Julia gives TED-Talks in the shower and is on that 5-to-5 grindset to, step one, become the biggest fantasy author since Tolkien and, step two, quit her job at Subway. Unfortunately, no one actually thinks her writing is any good, and the rejections keep piling up. No problem - she just has to work harder, and if she grinds herself to dust in the process, that just proves that she really cares.

Hayal is an art school drop-out who lives Julia’s dream of making art for a living by spending 12 hours a day drawing away on commissions and the other 12 hours sleeping. When her ex-girlfriend – lost during the same depression episode as her art school spot – drops back into her life with an unofficial intervention, it becomes harder to keep ignoring the fact that art hasn’t been fun in a while.

Kiwi is the lead guitarist of the world’s first and only post-progressive-pseudoglam-queercore band. He’s loud and eccentric in theory – in practice he’s scared of the public, his mother, his own art, and of doubtlessly embarrassing himself with his stupid lyrics should he ever dare to go on stage, which is unfortunate, because his bandmates – neglecting to tell him – have already set up a gig.

In addition to trying to make art under late capitalism, the three of them have to grapple with the almost as troubling reality that they’re all each other’s roommates.  

Real Jobs is the book for you if you

are, have been, or aspire to be a starving artist of any kind

would like to read more books that are set in neither the US nor UK

like books with all-queer casts

like books with all-queer casts that are not about being queer

are in your 20s and stressed about it or fondly remember being in your 20s and stressed about it

are an enthusiast of lesbians in not-romantic-not-platonic-but-a-secret-third-thing relationships

are an enthusiast of distressed bisexual men

would like to give an indie author a crisp 1 buck in royalties

If any of these apply to you, you should consider grabbing this book.

You can go to any of the sites here and pick up an ebook.

You can go to Barnes and Noble, Blackwells, Amazon, or most other online book retailers and pick up a paperback.

You can go to your local book store and ask them to order it for you. (Bonus points)

If you want to read it but can't afford it, you can ask me for a PDF and I will send it to you. (Yes, really)

If you're on the fence, you can read the first six chapters here.

Special thanks to @/0hlee on Twitter for the cover art, @cupidle for the promo art, and you if you get it 🫵

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for complaining about a teacher?

context before i start: the class i'm in takes up 3 hours of the day, and was the only reason i came to this school in the first place. it's an art school and is supposed to be somewhat serious—like, you have to apply to get in. but the 2 years i've been here we've had like 4 teachers (+ there have been even more before that) and none of them have been qualified for the job whatsoever

our newest teacher just got out of college and doesn't know what she's doing. she doesn't assign work that's actually creatively challenging, 1 hour of class time is usually dedicated to a really bad prompt and the rest of the time is independent work, it's barely an actual art class. she also never talks to the class and doesn't really have a clue what's going on ever. supposedly she has a degree but she just seems so. confused. the reason i'm still at this school is because i know people here who live upwards of 40 minutes away who i'm very close with + along with that i'm also autistic so any kind of drastic change would be hell. unfortunately leaving, though it would be the best option for me, is just not an option at all

anyway, we're already a quarter of the way through the year and people are still saying to cut her some slack because she's... new. which is kind of exactly what the issue is? i went through something similar to this last year because one of our previous teachers gave me really bad vibes and just didn't really work, so i complained about her to my classmates, and then i went to the administration about some issues i was having and she ended up quitting a few weeks after. people thought i got her fired on purpose. i was a little bit overly angry looking back so idk i can't blame them

anyway, i recently went to the admin about this new teacher (unlike last time, i tried to "give her grace" and hope for improvement, even though... idk... i just don't see it happening) but haven't really held back in complaining about her to my classmates too. most of the time people will say i'm being overly negative, or they don't want her to get fired, and honestly it's just fucking wild to me. they've also made comments about how she's not a good teacher! like everyone agrees that she's just not ready for this position and they're really sick of not being able to learn things! when i do complain though it's like i'm messing up some kind of social contract there is to just not do anything about the problem we're having and it's really confusing and frustrating

but at the same time i do wonder if this is me being overly critical and nitpicky of a situation that i shouldn't be. to me, because of aforementioned autism, i have a really strong sense of justice. this kind of stuff seriously bothers me and it upsets me that nobody else is as affected by the unfairness as i am?? idk. i just want the class to actually be worthwhile because the academics are really good

so AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[lunarifie]

Tftsd Flower shop/Tattoo Parlor AU

(Set in modern times)

Part 1 / Part 2

- Bart and Gum Gum have known each other ever since they were placed in foster care. They stuck around each other until they were 18 and legally allowed to take care of themselves. They end up renting an apartment, doing freelance gigs and odd jobs to keep themselves afloat.

- At some point, Bart runs into his past mentor, Marge, a tattoo artist who’d taught him a few things back in the day. She claims that Bart’s a natural artist, and that she has plans on retiring after holding onto her tattoo parlor for some time now. But to do so, she needs to hand it off to someone she can trust, therefore, she takes Bart as her apprentice.

- After a year or two, Bart picks it up relatively quickly and replaces Marge as the owner/main tattoo artist. He keeps the parlors name “The Jebediah” in honor of his mentor.

- With a now sustainable job, Bart tries to train and hire Gum Gum, but after a few months, its obvious that Gum Gum doesn’t have the same talent as Bart. Gum Gum admits that he can’t see himself inflicting pain on others for the sake of art (only for the sake of protection). Bart understands, and knowing Gum Gum’s affinity for flowers, convinces him to try and apply to the newly implemented flower/coffee shop down the street, known as Mudd’s Plants and Coffee.

- Gum Gum enters the shop and immediately forgets what he was there for, entranced by the variety of plants and differing floral. He notices a dried up plant hidden behind a big-leafed one, nudging it closer to the sun and hydrating it with a nearby watering can.

- Gum Gum jumps when he hears a - “What do you think you’re doing?” - from behind, turning around to face the tall shopkeeper. The shopkeeper stares at him sternly before widening his eyes and cursing, shoving past Gum Gum to inspect the almost dying plant.

- He reaches for the watering can but Gum Gum interjects, “don’t worry! I already watered it. If you do that again it’ll drown.”

- Mudd pauses, hand hovering over the watering can as he eyes Gum Gum, “customers aren’t supposed to mess with the plants…”

- “I wasn’t messing with it, I was helping it.”

- “Uh huh.” Already annoyed by this meddling customer, Mudd asks Gum Gum if theres anything he can help with, ready to have this person on their way.

- “Actually, yeah. I’m here to apply for a job, do you know where the shop owner is?”

- “I am the shop owner.”

- Gum Gum blinks, staring blankly at Mudd before splitting into a wide grin. “Perfect!”

- Mudd is hesitant in considering the applicant at first, but with the surge of customers who want to try out the aesthetically pleasing cafe/plant shop, he can use all the help he could get.

- Mudd is often busy at the counter, ringing up orders, brewing coffee, and adding his signature herbs to his recipes. Its hard for him to pay attention to every single plant and flower in his shop.

- After a week or so, he notices he no longer has to rush to his plants to make sure they’re healthy. From the counter, he can see his flowers blooming, bright and vibrant thanks to his new employee. Its obvious that Gum Gum has a talent for finding the dying forgotten plants and helping them thrive.

- Bart is ecstatic over Gum Gum getting a secure job, teasing him over it, “my boys all grown up!” He often takes short trips to Mudd’s shop to visit Gum Gum, whose always excited to see him and greets him with a “Bart!”

- Eventually, Mudd ends up introducing himself after the red-heads name is yelled enough times.

[erzivy]

What are the Counselor's comforts? Stuff that would help them calm down and/or relax, especially post-game

ryan finds solace in horror content- he always has- because it gives him a sense of control. he can be scared, but not for real, in a comfortable place and have the ability to turn it off it ever becomes too much. he also starts doing more traditional art (namely oil painting) with a horror focus

abi finds comfort in her new job as a tattoo apprentice. she's incredibly proud and happy that other people enjoy her art enough to put it on their bodies, and she's done custom tattoos for ryan, kaitlyn and dylan postgame. she's in progress planning one with emma

nick picks up cross-country running postgame, the fresh air clears his head and it gives him something to put excess energy into. he runs in long distance races recreationally and volunteers at the local kids' running club events

emma calms down with books and reading- she's actually started a book review series on her channel and it's become her passion. she enjoys fantasy romance and actually dabbles in making her own cosplays on the side

i always liked to think that max and laura might get engaged postgame and buy a small farm to house rescue dogs, so laura probably throws herself into animal care and being a doggy businesswoman while max finds solace in being the homemaker and learning to cook and bake for his (future) wife

dylan becomes a full-fledged video game completionist. he's loved nintendo games since childhood (his first tattoo was almost TLOZ themed) and he spends a lot of his free time learning silly speedrun tricks while trying to 100% Tears of the Kingdom

jacob ends up using a majority of his free time to coach kids' sports teams. he's always loved kids AND sports, so after enjoying being the camp sports coordinator, he applied to the local parks and rec center and began coaching baseball, softball and football

kaitlyn gets into house flipping. i know that sounds random but she's handy and strong, and i think that with help she could have a fantastic eye for design. she really enjoys painting but her favorite part is definitely demolition

[gravesung-moving]

quick and dirty bios for the unseen's inner circle (the sanctum)!

bc i just remembered sage and fletch are the only unseen creatures i actually have bios for.

*note — by default, these descriptions apply to the unseen as they are in shelter island. some details are subject to change based on verse. *note 2 — each member of the sanctum has a self-chosen tarot card that's left behind as a "calling card" at a particular job they claim responsibility for. in place of a stolen bounty, on top of a body, etc.

acheron ??? (he/him) — the poisoner

the emperor

dilf

calm, collected, honest but in a kind way. pretty emotionally intelligent.

as a rule, never pries into other people's business. lane = stayed in.

has a son who's in college rn! on good terms with his ex-wife.

ex-safecracker/bank robber

he makes poisons! has a little lab and everything

occasionally fletch will pull him out of retirement and make him go crack a safe. he complains about his knees

norah suman (she/her) — the engineer

the sun

lesbiab

has had a secret crush on seph for a couple years. designed her arms from the ground up, and the first point of contact when something goes wrong or seph needs a redesign/upgrade

dry humor, very blunt and often sarcastic

eyebrow piercing

habit of chopping off her hair when she's sad

makes the gadgets. makes explosives, modifies weapons, invents new shit, always thinking about new ways to do stuff. engineering as an art and a science at the same time.

also an up-and-coming tattoo artist!

orion aisa (he/they) — the forger

the moon

seph's twin brother

not a great fighter, hates using guns

eyepatch over his right eye. fletch took it when he and seph tried to escape as teenagers, along with ripping seph's arms off, which is a very normal and cool and chill reaction to have

trans lad. top surgery, took testosterone for a few years but then stopped. pretty satisfied with where he's at right now

excellent painter

suffers from hand tremors, though they fade when he paints

hector dionísio (he/him) — the muscle

the wheel of fortune

unpredictable and violent. unhinged.

will be having a drink with you and then at a hair-trigger provocation, he'll just turn around and start kicking the shit out of someone

scarily good fighter, way too fast for his muscular build

no one knows why fletch trusts him to be in the inner circle and not rat on them

unexpectedly very reliable as a teammate. he does his job very well

fixated on seph in a "constantly riling her so that she'll fight him whenever he wants" way

fixated on edith in a "why can't i land a hit on you. come here" way

pit fighter. so far undefeated

cody shimura (he/him) — the accountant

justice

the most guy ever

he's so tired.

retired hedge fund manager, went into crime because he did some digging, realized the finance industry was already in fletch's pocket anyway, and his ability to stealthily uncover those secrets impressed fletch enough to hire him on.

tries to be a plant dad but he keeps killing them

surprisingly well-trained with a gun

occasionally pulls out the most scathing one-liners in the quietest and calmest voice imaginable

sage / VECTOR (she/her) — the driver

the world

technomancer (arcane hacker)

pokemon superfan

harvard dropout

a pretty normal person, generally, probably the least traumatized out of the crew

can summon cars / motorcycles made of, essentially, compressed/hardened demon souls sourced straight from hell

also has normal, non-summonable cars / motorcycles that she likes to augment and fix up with norah's help

has a giant fluffy dog named Baby

fucking Maniac behind the wheel. the dog's name is a reference to baby driver for a reason.

if she knew about @tewwor's vector alias, she would make them matching shirts

edith winter (she/they) — the thief

the hermit

sneaky. quiet. wow shocker

fey changeling who's lived on earth their whole life, but is in contact with the human child they replaced

raised by wolves a gang, sort of collectively alongside her parents. it takes a village yaknow. they all had a hand in training her to be the insanely skilled thief she is — edith was probably the most valuable piece on their board, even at a young age

said gang was absorbed by the unseen and scattered across the world for resisting said absorption. one of edith's parents was killed in the conflict, the other was sent across the world but she doesn't know where

no one knows if they're bitter about it or not. they don't talk about it

acheron taught her how to crack safes

caro vitale / deadfall (he/him) — the fence

the hanged man

owner of the black stag, a bar and antique shop just at the northern edge of the city where metropolis meets highway meets forest.

can sell anything to anyone

no one knows a single thing about this man except for the fact that he's fluent in italian. he WILL lie if you ask him anything else. caro vitale is also not his real name

he got that thang on him (a club)

tattoos everywhere

ishal king (they/them) — the doctor

death

fae nephilim (an angel fucked an archfey and produced a very strange kid), exiled from the autumn court for death crimes before going into the human medical field as a surgeon.

nearly got arrested for experimenting with nephilim blood (their own, but whatever guys), faked their death, joined the unseen. now works happily and privately for fletch in their silly little lab.

mushroom garden

medicinal plant expert alongside their knowledge of modern medicine

ominous positivity

anah tannar (she/her) — the spy

the lovers, reversed

you know her! you love her! she's probably broken your heart!

local celebrity influencer

resident honeypot for any woman-attracted target

prefers to be flashy and stand out, but also insanely good at blending in and being invisible when need be

serial dater. never lets anyone too close, but loves to have a web of one-way connections to people who think they're her best friend or favorite ex, and/or owe her a favor (she has a book of debts)

a genuinely compassionate person underneath it all, she just leaned hard into her manipulative side after being used one too many times

persephone aisa (they/she) — the assassin

judgement

first lieutenant/right hand to amari fletch, and thus second-in-command to the unseen itself

sharpshooter, beat-upper, gunfighter, knife-swinger. if john wick can do it, so can they

cold, aggressive, hostile. deadly as fuck. if you follow this blog you probably came from hers so i won't go into too much detail SJDKHJKSD

amari fletch (they/he) — the leader

the tower (also the name they're publicly known by)

i swear they're not secretly thousands of years old i swearrrrr (yes they are) (they cheated death in a game of dice and bear the mark of cain for it)

think gus fring, netflix wilson fisk, silco — that type of person

spidery motherfucker, aka has connections eeeeverywhere. so many judges, cops, government officials in their pocket.

for the most part, fletch is satisfied with the world the way that it is. the unseen profits nicely, they have as much power as they need, and no one fucks with them (if they even know it exists)

if someone does fuck with him and his, however, he will not hesitate to make a violent and chaotic example of them for the rest of the world to see.

calm and levelheaded 99% of the time. 1% of the time, off-the-wall destructive

will take risks if they can see a benefit and the consequence of failure won't fuck up their plans.

extremely powerful in a fight (is not human) with enough raw strength to fully charge straight through a building wall by wall if they wanted to. but they don't. lmao

seph is their protegé (????) (i genuinely don't have a term for their relationship it's so fucked up and hard to describe), & they are very very possessive about it

[skzhocomments]

In the Dark - Choi Minho SHINee Fanfic - Chapter 2 - Take my breath away

General masterlist

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad | AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

---

Chapter 2 - Take my breath away

chapter word count: ~6.6k words

~Jieun’s POV~

Mondays are always the worst day of the week, as the weekend barely provides enough time to actually recharge and get my energy back after dealing with screaming children for 5 days straight.

I love my job, but teaching elementary school kids their 2+2s and ABCs is not exactly the dream, is it?

It was mine, though. I’ve always loved kids and found a lot of fascination in the idea of bringing up someone, in being able to shape a small person’s thoughts and ideas, in being able to perhaps influence them so that they would remember you 20 years later when they’re all grown up and successful. I wanted them to look back at this time spent with me in our small classroom fondly, to create a safe space for them so that they can grow up into the best version of themselves.

It's still my dream, but the problem is the money, that is hardly enough for my current expenses. Ever since my grandmother got sick, I knew I had to uproot our lives, and I brought her here, in the biggest city of our country, after managing to secure a job as a teacher at a small school in a quiet neighbourhood, so that she can have access to the best healthcare. Her hospital bills and meds, though, combined with my rent and food, are a fatal combination for my paycheck.

But you know the saying: desperate times call for desperate measures.

I was no different, and I knew that if my grandmother were to ever find out what I was doing in order to keep her hospitalized with 24/7 care available, she would at best disown me, at worst kill me with her bare hands.

inthedark.com

A website where you would essentially apply to become a high-end prostitute. A site that’s supposed to keep your identity completely private, and your clients’, too.

I joined this website one week ago and had my first client last Saturday, and for just two hours with him, I got almost half of my school paycheck. He also tipped me 200$, which was crazy. Who tips a prostitute that much?

I shouldn’t be doing this, I know, but what was I supposed to do? Let the person who raised me pass away in pain, when I knew she could get treatment to help her live a decent life for a few more years?

~

I lazily got out of bed and headed to school. It was 7:30 AM, and the school was just a few minutes’ walk away.

I liked to get there earlier so that I could rearrange the kid’s seats and make sure my classroom is perfect. We had an art contest last week, and I wanted to put all the paintings on display on the wall for the kids to see. I wanted to set up my cookie jar as well, because the best way to start the day for anyone would be with a nice little treat.

“Miss Park, good morning!” The director of the school, a lady well in her late 50s was inside of my classroom and welcomed me with a big smile on her face. Next to her, a tall, slim good-looking man holding a little girl’s hand smiled as welcoming as the director.

“Good morning, Mrs. Wang. What brings you here so early in the morning?” I returned their smiles and nodded briefly at the man, then turned my attention to the little girl hiding behind her dad’s leg. I waved at her, but she only hid her face more.

“Well, we have a new transfer student. Dear, won’t you introduce yourself?” Mrs. Wang tried to get the little girl to talk and looked at her expectedly. “Come on, we don’t have the whole morning!” She continued, making the little girl turn her head away, and a frown appear on her father’s face. Forcing a shy kid to say anything would prove pointless, so I tried to diffuse the situation.

“Actually,” I started, “we do have the whole morning. What a beautiful day to get to know each other, don’t you think?” I smiled brightly and took a few careful steps towards the dad-daughter pair, letting myself fall on my knees to be on the same height as the girl.

“Well, I’ll let you handle this. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Choi.” The director smiled and left the room.

After the director left, the girl seemed a bit less tense. Her father caressed the back of her beautiful, long, brown, curly hair, and spoke kind words.

“It’s okay, baby. You can tell the nice teacher your name.”

The girl still shook her head, and her dad started apologising. “I’m really sorry, she’s not normally like this. Her name is-”

“That’s fine.” I cut him off. “We can learn each other’s names later, isn’t that right, beautiful?” I smiled at her lovingly, and she finally looked at me for a few seconds. “I have something really tasty for you and your future classmates.”

I rummaged through my bag and pulled out the large bag of chocolate cookies that I baked yesterday. “But I have to put them in that big jar on the desk. I’m not sure I can do it alone. Would you like to help me put the cookies in the jar? You can have two cookies if you help me, but it has to be our secret.” I whispered and placed my index finger against my lips, then winked.

The girl seemed excited, as she nodded eagerly with a bright smile on her face and ran to the desk. I followed her, and gave her the bag of cookies, letting her put each cookie into the jar; a simple activity that helped calm her down and warm up to me.

“Wow, you’re so good at this!” I praised her, and she chuckled like the innocent kid she was, reminding me of why I loved children so much. If I would ever have a daughter, I wanted her to be just as cute as this little girl who’s happily putting cookies in the jar one by one with her little hands.

“Done.” She smiled, showing me and her dad her work proudly.

“Well done, baby!” Her dad praised her as well.

“Now it’s time to eat a cookie!” I clapped my hands once, and the girl took some cookies out and came to me and her dad, handing them to us. Of course, we accepted and started eating them, as the girl grabbed a cookie for her as well and munched on it joyfully.

“How is it?” I asked the girl, watching her devour the treat.

“Tasty!” She exclaimed, making me and her dad look at each other and chuckle. “I love chocolate!”

“I’m glad you like it. I made them myself!” I boasted, then chuckled again. “My name is Park Jieun. I’m really happy to have you join my class, and I hope we’ll be best friends.” I told the girl, who nodded and replied.

“My name is Choi Nari. It’s nice to meet you, Miss Park. Can I hug you?”

“Of course, come here!” I positioned myself back on my knees and opened my arms to her, squeezing her tight. She was the sweetest little girl.

“Where will I sit?”

“Hmm, how about this seat here?” I went next to the first desk next to the window and pointed to the seat on the left, which hasn’t been occupied. “Your deskmate is a sweet girl just like you, and I think you’ll get along great.”

The girl happily ran towards her seat and her dad followed her, placing her small backpack on the table.

“Okay, Nari, daddy has to go to work.” The man spoke kindly. “I will come pick you up at 4, okay?”

“Okay daddy! I love you!” She waved.

“I love you the most!” He smiled and waved back, and I saw him out of the classroom.

We walked for a bit, and I closed the door behind us, giving Nari privacy to take out her stuff in peace and arrange them on her desk.

“Thank you so much, Miss. Park. Nari already seems better.”

“Nothing to thank me for, Mr… Choi?” I tilted my head and smiled, unsure.

“Oh, yes! I apologise, I completely forgot to properly introduce myself earlier. My name’s Choi Minho.” He nervously scratched his nape and handed me his hand, which I shook.

“No worries.” I chuckled. “May I ask why you transferred Nari in 2nd grade?”

“She… has been bullied at her old school, and…”

“Oh no.” I frowned. “I’m so sorry.”

“I hope she’ll be better here. She really seems to like you. Please take care of her and let me know if anything happens.” He bowed slightly.

“Of course. Please don’t worry about anything. She’s in good hands.” I assured him, and he raised his head.

Opening up his coat, he took out a small business card and handed it to me. “This is my number, please call me anytime if Nari needs anything, or if something’s wrong. Sometimes I’m a few minutes late to pick her up, but I’m going to try to be here on time. Still, could I also have your number in case I’m running late?”

“Of course.” I smiled and typed in his number from the business card in my phone, shooting him a quick text with my name.

“Thank you so much, Miss Park. I see kids are already starting to come, so I’m gonna leave you to your job. Have a nice day!”

“You too, Mr. Choi.” I smiled and stepped back into my classroom, where Nari already finished arranging her notebooks and was now excitedly looking at all the paintings on the walls.

Damn, the paintings! I cursed in my head, remembering I wanted to stick the ones from last week’s art contest on the walls, but it was already too late to do so.

Children started buzzing into the classroom, their parents holding their hands tightly and kissing their chubby cheeks goodbye, as the next time they would come pick them up would be in some many hours from now: 6, 7 or even 8, to be more precise. Even if the classes ended at 12, the school I secured a job at gave the working parents the possibility of coming late for pick up.

When the parents were gone and the whole class was seated, I asked Nari to come in front and I helped her introduce herself, making sure that she felt as comfortable as one shy child could in a new environment.

~

2 AM found me drinking tea on the small sofa in my rented apartment. Normal people would sleep this late on a Thursday night, but here I was browsing through people’s forms in Requests on the In the Dark app.

Meeting Charisma last week got me a lot of money, and ever since then, I’ve received a few requests from others, but I’ve been pretty reluctant to meet up with anyone else. Charisma set the bar quite high. Not only was he fit as fuck, which I could tell just by roaming my hands on his chest and perfectly sculpted abs and muscles, but he was genuinely good in bed too, not selfish, made sure I felt good and even made me cum, which was a first for a random hook-up, and certainly not what I expected when I signed up on inthedark.com as a prostitute.

His special requirements were also normal, compared to the others I’ve seen which were at best degenerate. I kept rejecting other ‘applicants’, but I wasn’t sure if I should keep my expectations high or just go with whoever was willing to pay the price I gave myself.

It felt horrible, objectifying myself like that, having to decide what my body sells for and actively selling it away. I have become just a trash toy for someone to use as they please. I have become damaged goods, an object purely crafted for sexual function. I have become dirt, and I was now a dirty woman.

inthedark.com was, after all, a dirty place stinking putrid. Even if the font was a fancy Centeria Script, the name shining in golden letters on a black screen, even if it looked presentable, drawing you in with every click, promising all and any fantasy, wild, rough sex under the pretense of a poor woman’s factual desire, it was just a filthy site, gaudy and cheap, like any other brothels out there. The more it seems to shine, the more it’s actually teeming with decay.

The only good things this site offered were how private everything was and letting me at least make the choice myself of who to sell my body to. There were extensive documents everyone who wanted to become a member – be it customer or whore – had to provide, from medical records to personal information that was stored to be used against you in case you would violate the terms and conditions. They would sue you to oblivion if you so much as brought a source of light in the room.

At least that.

It was private and it was safe from a medical point of view.

The first (and only) customer I had was this Charisma dude, who, as I said, set the bar in the fucking sky. He was respectful and treated me more like a partner than like a mere prostitute, even if he didn’t want to kiss me.

I understood that, for I probably was, in his eyes, a dirty whore who fucked men for money.

Still, I was really grateful that my first customer was Charisma. He didn’t know how many demons I was battling while letting him touch me and while touching him. He didn’t know how much I hated myself for disposing of my principles in exchange for my grandmother’s hospital bills. He didn’t know any of it. Still, he treated me with care. He didn’t degrade me more than I was already degrading myself, and I was thankful for that, because otherwise I didn’t know how I would’ve been able to live with my regrets and with this guilty feeling pressing down on my chest every time I breathed.

7 requests to go through. I sighed, still unsure if what I was doing was the right thing. I didn’t want to fuck strangers for money, in fact, I was always against women flaunting their tits and asses and pussies to earn some, but then again, I think there aren’t too many people that geuinely want to do this kind of work anyway, and how else was I supposed to get more money without it affecting my day-to-day life and job? It’s not like I could go get hired somewhere else and work another 6 hours per day for the whole month, just to get the same pay check I made after a few hours of sex.

Still, I really didn’t want to accept other forms. Charisma’s money was going to pay for my grandma’s care this month, so I could technically not get any clients until next month without any issues.

Yes, maybe I should just reject them all and whatever comes next month, I will take.

Another sigh left my lips as I looked at my now cold cup of tea, just as a ping forcefully pulled me out of my thoughts.

1 new notification – inthedark

I pressed on it and a new request popped up.

It was Charisma.

---

CHARISMA – personal form

THINGS I ENJOY: Hello Flame, I was hoping I would see you again this Saturday. Just like I mentioned in my last form, I love everything intimacy-related.

THINGS I DON’T WANT TO DO: No kissing on the lips, please.

CONDOM / NO CONDOM (if you pick the NO CONDOM option, you have to attach a report of a recent medical check-up that ensures you don’t have an STD): no condom

SPECIAL REQUIREMENTS: Feels weird to communicate this way, but not knowing who you are and you not knowing who I am is probably better for both. I’m really sorry for the dirty question, but… how’s your gag reflex? I would love to fuck your throat if you’d let me :) Of course, that doesn’t mean I will forget about you.

---

Charisma wanted to see me again on Saturday night. He booked 4 hours this time.

I really didn’t want to accept other forms. But if it’s him…

I think… I might just accept it.

Why not?

He was great in bed. He paid attention to every part of my body.

He held me afterwards.

Why not?

I started reading through his form and found it very funny how he used each column to have a ‘conversation’ of sorts. All the other clients would simply write what they wanted or didn’t want, forgetting there was a human being on the other side of the form.

He even wrote please, for fuck’s sake. Did he forget I’m just a whore?

Of course, that doesn’t mean I will forget about you. He wrote that. Why? Does he want me to enjoy the sex that badly? He could just use my throat to get off and not even touch me at all, and it wouldn’t have mattered, because he doesn’t pay me to enjoy having sex with him. He pays me so he can cum inside or on me. So… why did he feel the need to mention my pleasure like that?

Is he also having second thoughts about this whole prostitution-thing?

Maybe I’m also the first harlot he’s seeing. What a funny thought. Maybe we’re just the same. It wouldn’t be so implausible, since his touches were so unsure at first, I almost felt like laughing. Shy in a whore house. Pfft.

I liked Charisma. He was a good customer to have.

I could just think of him as my fuck buddy to ease my guilty conscience, and if I would only see him, and he would hire me at least once a month, I wouldn’t have to fuck any sleazy guys. I could keep my dignity – in some way, anyway. This felt like cognitive dissonance, but it helped me not beat myself up over having a different guy pay me every week to endure him fucking me.

At least I enjoyed it with Charisma.

Yes. Okay.

---

FLAME – personal form

THINGS I ENJOY: Charisma, I really appreciate you booking me again. :) I’m quite happy, actually, to know you’ve enjoyed our last time together. Of course, I’m going to take care of you and hold onto you for the whole night. ;)

THINGS I DON’T WANT TO DO: I don’t enjoy pain, but you can slap my ass (please?), and even my face – not too hard! – if you’re into that, if you make sure you won’t leave any marks.

CONDOM / NO CONDOM: no condom

SPECIAL REQUIREMENTS: My gag reflex is not so bad, but it might take some time to get used to you. Please take it slowly at first. If I can’t take it or need a break, I will tap on you three times.

---

Saturday came by quickly, and I was pacing back and forth around the dark room while waiting for Charisma. It was funny, really, not ever seeing how this room looks like in the light, but they’ve informed me when I first came here that the lights in the ‘bedroom’ stay off all the time to prevent any accidents from happening. Only the hallway is illuminated, and that light turns off automatically as well as soon as you press on the bedroom’s handle.

When I arrive here, the bedroom door is already open, so I have to walk into the room and shut the door behind me, which is when the mechanism starts working. The client then comes in the hallway, opens the bedroom door, and all lights in the whole place turn off. When the time is up, we hear a small bell sound, and I have to exit the room back into the hallway and close the door behind me.

The door locks automatically and the light turns on, and there is a clean white bathrobe waiting for me on the small shelf in the hallway. I must dress myself in it, then leave to another room on another floor, so that my client has the same privacy as I do. In that other room I can shower and chill out while a staff member brings me my clothes, previously discarded on the floor.

Now back on what happens to the client after I leave. The bedroom door would get unlocked, and he would have to go into the bathroom and clean up as well. While he does that, the staff member quickly collects all our clothes, and they leave the client’s on the small shelf in the hallway, and they bring mine, as I said.

Neither of us meets the staff members face to face. We sometimes hear them rummaging around, but we’ve already been instructed on the app prior to the meeting that we have to pretend they’re not there, and not try to meet them at all. Their identities are private. They have the same right to privacy as we do.

My clothes are brought to me in the hallway of my new room while I sit on the bed and watch TV or eat and drink stuff from the mini bar, but only after my client has left the building for a long time. Last time it took about 1 hour for my clothes to be brought to me, and I spent that time glancing around the room at the ugly yellow wallpaper with gaudy flowers on it, and the boring brown furniture. I wondered if the room Charisma and I used looked as disappointing as this one.

At least everything was clean.

-

I don’t know how long I waited for Charisma. Probably 20-something minutes, as I got here way earlier than I should’ve. I sat on the bed for the first many minutes, but I got bored and sleepy, being surrounded by complete darkness, so I decided to get up and just walk around the room, see if my hands recognise any décor from the room I did see.

My heels were getting uncomfortable, and I don’t know why I decided to wear them. I could’ve worn sneakers. My stupid brain just thought in a leap of judgment that this slutty short skirt I was wearing, that left virtually nothing to the imagination, fit way better with a pair of high heels. Both were black, but of course, I was the only one who had that information. The staff member that would have to pick them and my soaked wet panties from the floor and bring them to me would have it as well, in about four hours from now.

When the door finally opened, Charisma’s scent invaded my nostrils, just like last time. The perfume he used must’ve been expensive, but I didn’t recognise it.

Instead of waiting patiently for him to figure out where I am, like I did last time, I decided to be bolder and headed towards him directly. My eyes were already adjusted to the darkness in the room enough to be able to see shapes. Of course, there was no visible source of light, but it wasn’t pitch black either, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to notice where Charisma was.

He was a tall man with a nice build, and he frankly turned me on, thankfully.

When I got in front of him, he stopped moving, aware of my presence, and I pressed my hands on his face. If he were my date, or at least my hook-up or one night stand, I would’ve kissed him, but I knew better.

I knew he didn’t want it. Why did I want it? It made no sense.

I would’ve done it, though.

I would’ve raised on my tiptoes, even on these uncomfortable high heels, and I would’ve smiled at him and told him a small ‘hi’, and then I would’ve pressed my lips against his, and I would’ve let him stick his tongue down my throat and kiss me over and over while our hands would erratically grab each other’s bodies, for both of us were full of desire and wanted to feel a little bit closer.

But my contract doesn’t allow me to talk, and he doesn’t allow me to kiss him, and I don’t know why these thoughts even went through my head, because what genuine desire could there possibly be between a customer and his whore, besides purely sexual tension for a release?

He held my hands with his, that were still on his face, and he grabbed my right palm, letting my fingers brush over his lips so lightly, a feather must’ve felt heavier. Then, he pressed a gentle kiss on my fingertips, and my heart started beating faster, irregularly, uncontrolled.

He pulled my body into a hug and caressed the back of my hair as if he would’ve said ‘I missed you’, as if I were his lover, and I embraced him back, as confused as I was, feeling my head get lighter as I felt deprived of oxygen. He took all of it out of my lungs with such simple gestures.

When we separated, I started roaming his body with my hands, taking off his coat and unbuttoning his shirt slowly. We let all those useless garments fall down and I started kissing his neck and chest, biting his skin slightly, his small moans every time my lips touched his body turning me on way too much for him to just be a client that pays me to have sex with him. Who knew this could be so enjoyable to me?

Since I was meeting him for the second time, I already knew my way around his body, his firm muscles, where I needed to touch to make him squirm under my fingers. He was burning hot and he smelled good, and all my senses were intoxicated and full of him, so it was too easy to fall on my knees and unbuckle his belt, to take his already hard dick in my mouth.

Did I excite him that much for him to already be hard after just a few love bites on his chest and stomach?

As soon as my mouth made contact with his member, he let out a small groan. I wondered if his head was rolled back, if his eyes were closed, if he wanted to watch me suck his dick. If we would’ve seen each other and he would’ve looked at me, would’ve I looked right in his eyes to watch him become fucked up with the pleasure I’m causing?

What colour were his eyes? Brown? Green? Black?

I worked his dick down my throat to the best of my abilities, painfully aware of his written request of fucking it tonight. I wasn’t necessarily good at deep throats, but with enough ‘training’ and patience, I think I would be able to take a good fucking, even if it would leave my throat sore the next day.

Charisma was thankfully patient, for now at least. He let me suck him off the way I wanted to, his small moans would compliment me and encourage me to keep going, and his large hand on the top of my head was there just to caress me, not to push me or hasten me in any way.

He showered beforehand; much to my delight, he tasted good, and he was well groomed. This, combined with the fact that his body was sculped by some Greek God, made me wonder why he came to see a prostitute in the first place. It shouldn’t have been difficult to get any dates.

Maybe he’s ugly.

The thought sounded wrong in my head. Somehow, I didn’t even want to imagine this a possibility, for it was simply impossible for Charisma, who treated me so gently, who smelled so good and was so tidy, who certainly spent years in the gym to train this perfect body under my fingertips, to not be good looking.

Maybe he looks like that dad of the new girl in my class. He is handsome enough, and they seem to be of similar heights anyway.

A dangerous thought came through my head, but I tried to get rid of it as soon as it came.

Use Choi Minho as a visual representation of Charisma. He’s hot and handsome, and they’re the same height.

Of course, doing this to my mental health wasn’t a good idea. Charisma was Charisma, a faceless man I enjoyed fucking whenever he wanted to meet me.

I should never navigate on that territory of imagining him to be someone I know in real life that I see every day while he drops off and picks up his daughter from school. He’s probably married anyway, and I’m not a homewrecker. Not intentionally, at least. Charisma might be married too, but I didn’t feel any rings on his fingers last time we met. Of course, men are men, and he could’ve just taken it off, but even if he didn’t, it wouldn’t have mattered, because he was paying me for the few hours spent together, and I couldn’t get out of the agreement anyway.

I continued sucking Charisma off, and I started getting used to the pressure down my throat. Even if I was choking a bit on my saliva that was now uncontrollably smearing my face and falling on my clothes and probably on the floor, the feeling in my neck wasn’t that unpleasant, and I was glad that I didn’t feel like throwing up.

Charisma must’ve felt it too, because he grabbed my face and pulled away, then helped me stand up. He used his hands to clean up my chin, then helped me towards the bed. I laid down, my head on the edge of the mattress, as he aligned his dick with my mouth.

I opened wide, but he hesitated for a bit.

Is this okay? Is what his hesitation made me think he wanted to ask, if he were allowed to talk. Of course, he signed the same forms as me, so we weren’t allowed to utter any more than desperate sobs, moans, grunts and whines, but that’s what it felt like he was asking, so I placed my hands on the back of his now naked thighs and pulled him towards me.

He pushed his dick in my mouth, and I took it in fully, and he stayed there, balls deep, for a few seconds, taking my breath away. Then, he pulled out and I caught my breath. He didn’t leave me too many seconds to do so, as he entered my mouth again and started keeping a steady pace of fucking my throat deep and quick while holding my neck with his right hand. He squeezed and I felt myself become a bit too deprived of oxygen, and while it made my head dizzy, it also gave me euphoria, so I found myself moving my own hand towards my pussy and starting to rub it slowly through my underwear, while Charisma was using my throat as his personal fleshlight.

I was becoming sensitive and felt myself wanting to cum, but my head got so dizzy, I was focusing hard to keep myself present in the moment and not faint from the lack of air in my lungs. I stopped rubbing myself and raised my hand to cover Charisma’s on my neck, as I was almost at my limit and didn’t think I could take it anymore.

I held onto his hand for a while, and he stopped squeezing my neck and held me back as his pace started becoming sloppy, and I knew he was close. He moved his other hand on my left breast, groping it and squeezing it through my blouse and bra.

I shut my eyes tight and fought the urge to tap his hand three times to make him stop, decided to only do so if I really couldn’t take it anymore.

However, there was no need for me to do so, because he came down my throat soon after I held his hand, with a loud grunt that sounded heavenly to my ears, and he removed his dick from my mouth, proceeding to probably kneel down and pressing a kiss on my forehead.

If I were his date, and not a mere whore, would’ve he kissed my lips instead?

I took the next few minutes to recover from the intense face-fucking I’ve experienced and let the air slowly make its way back in my lungs, while Charisma grabbed a bed sheet or some other fabric and wiped my face clean with one hand and touching my hair soothingly with his other.

You did a good job. That’s what his touches felt like, and I felt cared for.

After a couple minutes of breathing in and out, I grabbed Charisma’s arm and pulled him towards me, letting him know that I’m ready for whatever he wants us to do next.

He started by pulling me up to sit on my ass so he can take off my blouse and bra with ease, then he palmed my breasts and kissed spots on my neck and collarbones while pinching my nipples softly.

I let a soft whine escape, and he made his way down, riling my skirt up and only removing my panties. He pushed my legs open, and I became aware of how wet I was. He ate me out last time we met as well, and I tried to focus on how good his tongue felt on my clit, and not on the fact that he must’ve considered my lips to be dirtier than my pussy; otherwise, why wouldn’t he want to kiss me?

His tongue moved carefully between my folds. He was experimenting each spot that made me moan, he teased my entrance before moving back to my clit and sucking on it ever so gently, and he seemed to relish on all the sounds I was making, for he let out some small moans as well every time I would clench around nothing.

Two of his fingers brushed my lips and I opened up my mouth again for him to stick them down my throat, covering them in saliva, just so that he could move them against my entrance and explore my insides with them, as if they wouldn’t have slid easily enough with how wet he made me, anyway.

He continued licking up my clit while his fingers curved mercilessly inside of me, grazing the sweet spot inside, driving me over the edge and bringing me to what was probably the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever experienced in my life.

He continued licking me and fucking me with his fingers, and the pleasure started becoming overwhelming, even painful, so I put my hands in his hair and grabbed it as hard as I could, making him move away from me.

He kissed my thighs while I moaned and moaned, trying to get back from my high, then he kissed my lower stomach and made his way up on my body, as if he wanted to kiss me everywhere, to not leave any patch of skin untouched.

Once he was completely on top of me, his dick brushed against my pussy, and I felt how hard he became once again. He kissed the crook of my neck as he pressed his dick inside, and I let out a loud whine, as he didn’t leave me any chance to get used to him inside of me. He started thrusting strongly, earning a loud moan each time he would bottom out inside of me, and I let my head roll down, falling out of the mattress while he was buried in my neck, biting it and sucking on it while fucking me hard.

I felt my second orgasm creep in, and I came loudly, unable to control any sounds coming out of my mouth. Hearing me, Charisma grunted and soon enough I felt his warm release inside of me as well.

He collapsed on top of me, and we just breathed for a little while, together, synchronised, letting our chests rise and fall and touch, our faced hovering mere centimetres away, his lips so closed to mine, his breath against mine so warm. It would’ve been so easy to cross a line, but he specifically asked to not be kissed, and I really wanted to see him again, to have him fill me up and take care of my body’s needs.

Eventually, Charisma moved away from on top of me and guided me in a normal position on the bed, head on his shoulder similar to last time, and started caressing my hair slowly, kissing my forehead, slowly dragging his fingers on my arm, making my skin get goosebumps.

I enjoyed staying like this with him so much, even more than the sex. It felt like we were close, and I let my right hand feel his heartbeat against his chest, and I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

The bell sound painfully woke me up from my slumber, indicating that our four hours were over. Reluctantly, I got up from Charisma’s shoulder and sighed, but he grabbed my hand and pulled me back down, hugging me tightly, before releasing me.

I didn’t want to overthink it too much. He must’ve just been grateful I let him cum down my throat and in my pussy. That’s all.

I made my way out of the room and closed the door behind me, which obviously locked, and the light turned on.

I grabbed the white bathrobe hanging on the shelf in the hallway and went out, heading towards my new room I had to use until Charisma completely left the building.

Once inside the new room, I went straight to the bathroom and glanced in the mirror while taking off the robe. My whole skin was stained with purple marks going from my neck to my breasts and my abdomen, and I traced each of them with my fingers, until I reached the hem of my skirt.

I was still wearing it. Charisma didn’t take it off this time, for some reason.

Seeing myself like that, naked, in only that damn short slutty skirt, covered in love bites, my hair and make-up a mess, and knowing I’ve just been covered in saliva and snot hours prior by some strange man I was meeting for money for the second time already, I really felt like a dirty whore.

Looking in the bathroom mirror was a rude awakening to this fact, and no matter how much I wanted to trick myself into thinking that Charisma’s nice gestures were genuine attraction towards me, my dishevel hair and this short skirt brought me back to Earth.

I was nothing special. I was just a whore.

A nobody.

Dirt.

---

MEETING REVIEW FORM by Charisma

Rate Flame from 1 to 5 (lowest to highest): ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Were all your special requirements fulfilled? (Leave empty if not applicable): Thank you for everything, Flame. I felt amazing. Tonight has fulfilled so many of my fantasies. Let’s do it again sometime.

What did you enjoy? -

What should be improved? -

Would you like to tip Flame? (Any amount you write will automatically be deducted from your Card after submitting this form. Leave empty if you don’t wish to tip your host): 300$

Thank you for using our service!

---

MEETING REVIEW FORM by Flame

Rate the interaction with the customer from 1 to 5 (lowest to highest): ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Did the customer fulfil your special requirements? -

Tip received – 300$: Thank you once again for the tip, Charisma, and I’m glad to learn that you felt good tonight. I loved sucking you off, and you can fuck my throat anytime. We definitely have to do it again and let me know if there’s any other fantasies you want fulfilled. I’d be glad to be the one to fulfil them for you xx❤️

---

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

[unecoccinellenoire]

Do you ever wonder what would it have been like if Nathalie had met Gabi Grassette instead of Gabriel Agreste? What if Gabriel hadn't changed his name and such?

Honestly I never had considered this scenario just because...it is Gabriel Agreste that Nathalie meets and falls in love with and a lot of that history is tied up in him being that person that would change his name.

If Gabriel still meets Emilie first then I feel like the version of him that stays Gabi (although we don't know for certain if that is his legal name or just a shortening he went by) Grassette is both less sucessful and sucessful less quickly. So maybe he's doesn't get into the rich conspiracy and he's not of interest to Tomoe so she never introduces him to Nathalie.

And becoming Gabriel Agreste, creating this persona and idea of what an Agreste is, is I think is very strongly linked to this desire to create Adrien as The Perfect Son/Model/Boy. Admittedly we don't know Emilie's feelings on the matter and her being the one to actually create Adrien and making him look so like her definitely speaks to a desire to have a biological child that no one else has any claim on. But I feel Gabriel in this scenario is much more likely to consider adoption or going abroard for surrogacy rather than chasing after the Miraculous.

So again we end up in a scenario where the canonical meeting with Nathalie doesn't happen.

But let's try again, maybe the boy that stays Gabi Grassette doesn't dare to dream the way the boy that becomes Gabriel Agreste did. He isn't brave enough to apply to art school, or to try to become a fashion designer amongst people who look down on him without a safety net, or ignore his parents' concern about his career. He's softer- less willing to cut off people he thinks might way him down.

So he doesn't meet Emilie. And if he does maybe he's not brave enough to reach up to this star out of his orbit.

And thus he doesn't meet Nathalie.

But you're asking about if he does meet Nathalie, except the first question is how?

What's Nathalie doing in Paris, or Normandy or the Region Sud or wherever Gabriel lives in France rather than hunting relics on the other side of the world. What's Nathalie's backstory? Is her life different too?

I think that regardless of their universe Nathalie and Gabriel always work well together. They have this instinctive understanding of each other and in some ways they're very compatiable- they both treasure the quiet times together, physical affection means a lot to them, they love fiercely but they're also mean- they don't care about the people they don't love and they almost enjoy that, certainly they'd be the type to cattily gossip about things together.

They have their differences. Both of them only truly cleave to a small network of people but Gabriel wants this wider adulation, he wants to be seen as sucessful, as good, as in love in a way that Nathalie has no interest in, and frankly prefers not to be perceived. Some of that internal/external validation discrepancy also shows in how Gabriel has to justify things where Nathalie owns her decisions.

All of that is still there. But Nathalie loved the Gabriel who's ready to take that leap of faith and do anything for what he wants. Can she love a Gabi who doesn't?

And is Gabriel resenful about how his life's turned out? Does he wake up and work and wish he'd chosen to do something he loved? Does he feel like he doesn't have a future or a career - just a job selling chips from a trailer in the rain?

Does Nathalie feel like adventure to him? Or is she put off by the anger she can feel inside him?

Or does he have friends? Is his life unexciting but full of love and life? Does he go for a drink on his free days and get unencouraged to settle down, and he's never go over the girl who got away but now Nathalie feels like another chance?

I mean it's a fun scenario because (unless you go full chip shop AU and Nathalie's his employee) Nathalie isn't his subordinate here so that changes the dynamicc in of itself but there's just so much to figure out how this would work.

That said, I'm pretty sure @silver-hibiscus does have an AU for this scenario so go send some questions her way.

[waltwhitmansbeard]

“Will you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?”

That can apply to a lot of pairings.

But because I miss them, how about Beau and Yasha?

will you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?

The little house in Zadash is a riot of sensations. The fragrant, steaming stew pooled in colorful ceramic bowls. The friendly crackle of flames in the wood stove, which smells of smoke and winter. THe soft swish of the skirt around Yasha's legs as her knee jiggles up and down beneath the table. The bouquet of flowers, crocuses and camellias and pansies, cheerful in a vase beside the basket of freshly baked bread. The expertly carved wooden clock on the wall, ticking, ticking, ticking.

She's late.

She stares at this dinner, the product of an afternoon's hard labor. It is delicious, an artful balance of flavors and textures, full of the last ingredients harvested from the garden before the first freeze of the season. It's the perfect thing to combat Wildemount's wicked winter chill, steam clouds dancing gracefully above the table. She made it with Beau in mind; her walk home from the Cobalt Soul is a frigid one, has her coming through the front door with bright red ears and a violently running nose.

Or, it would. If she were here. Which she's not.

Yasha begins to pace. It's the third time this month Beau's been late. Yasha had thought that when they settled here, when Beau got a stable job, when they built a little life together, they'd be...together more. But Beau is never home, and Yasha is building a home for herself. She's starting to miss the life of adventure, the nights spent camping on the side of the road—at least then she wasn't alone.

It's almost an hour after she first set the bowls onto the table that the front door swings in, a whip of icy air swirling around the cottage. Beau shuffles in, face pink and a cardboard box in her hands. "Babe, you won't believe—"

"You're late. Again."

Beau kicks the door closed, but the air remains frozen. "Yeah. I know. Normally I'd agree that I'm the worst, because I am, but this time—"

"Yes, I'm sure the work was important, but so was dinner."

"Babe, listen—"

"So was I."

The house is silent, save the clock, which may well be the loudest thing Yasha has heard in her life. Beau's face is horror-stricken, and Yasha summons all of her considerable strength to keep hers unreadable.

"Of course you're important," Beau says quietly. "You're the most important thing in my life."

"Doesn't feel like it."

Beau sets the box down on the loveseat, the plush overstuffed one they got at a flea market the first weekend in this house, and for a second, Yasha swears she sees the box move on its own. But then Beau is talking. "I'm really sorry I made you feel that way. I know I'm a workaholic, and I know that means you're alone more than you should be. That's actually kinda why I'm late today."

Yasha frowns. "What do you mean?"

There's a glint of mischief in Beau's eyes as she nods toward the box. Yasha wants to argue—fuck the box, they're fighting—but it's moving again, and after a silent stand-off, the curiosity wins out. She stomps over, opens the flap, looks inside, and—

"Oh my gods."

Wiggling up at her is the tiniest, fluffiest puppy, all brown and white spots, with impossibly big brown eyes and a stubby little tail. With a nose she's never heard herself make before, Yasha scoops the puppy up and buries her face in its fur.

"I found a box of six abandoned puppies just around the corner from the library. I had to get them somewhere safe—there's a guy in Archives who takes in strays, so he helped me out. I decided to keep that little dude for us. It was getting kind of quiet around here."

Yasha looks up, struggling to contain both her tears and the excited puppy. "You were late because you were rescuing abandoned puppies?"

Beau crosses her arms, a satisfied smile on her face. "Will you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?"

She bounds over to her, kissing her deeply and smushing the puppy between them. "I guess you get a pass."

Scritching behind the puppy's ear, Beau asks, "So, any thoughts on names?"

"Are you joking? Jester will kill us if we don't consult her."

"Mm, true." She pauses. "I'd like to put my vote in for Caleb, so I can finally have someone named Caleb listen to me for once."

Yasha laughs. She hugs her little family closer, feeling very warm indeed.

[leslie057]

9a + 9b please 🙏

hello! thank you for the lovely combo

prompt game posted here

9a + 9b = call me lover + but one is pouting

word count: 3.7k

It isn’t right that she’s sad today, even less right that she’s playing up the sad, and that in doing this she hopes to work guilt into every part of him, like water into clay, like honey into comb.

Given their extra-special circumstances, she knows she shouldn’t be anything more than mildly annoyed with him about his inability to pronounce girlfriend. And that has to be the issue, pronunciation, because why else would he shy away from such an innocent word? There’s no reasonable excuse. It’s an easy statement to make: look, my girlfriend’s here. He can do it, with the same ease that he labels everything else of his, he can do it. It’s my camera, my spatula, my turn to drive, my shirt not yours and you can’t have it…all his, until she’s involved. No, they don’t own each other. But sometimes you have to lay claim to things in life.

You just have to.

He paints houses. Every day in West Somerville he does, from nine to dinnertime. Watertown and Brookline, too. But mainly Somerville, especially Winter Hill. Interior, exterior, deck, door, and drywall. Expensive houses, cheap houses, new and old houses, houses with picket fences. It’s just what Emerson is looking for, a teenage boy who really knows his way around a…picket fence?

But the gap year thing is okay, and he’s still here with her as she navigates everything, even if he didn’t want to apply for college until it was way too late. He can apply for next year.

He moved away, far away just for her, no college waiting for him at the end of the journey, willing and able to be the slow tagalong Somerville boy to her busy Boston girl. And they get to live together. Harmony of opposites applies, as it always has. His loyalty means the world, and for what it’s worth, he is the best rated decorator Lovell Painting’s ever had. Very committed to the job.

But now Mr. Lovell doesn’t know she’s his harmonious opposite, doesn’t know she’s the girl he’s bringing home the bread to (not a lot of bread, but so much more than you’d expect someone to get for slinging paint) (then again, there’s probably no slinging involved, because Jonathan clearly believes there is an art to the task) (he has a weird way of leaning into unbeaten paths, finding purpose in hushed, forgettable places) (it’s lovable, is what it is, when she manages to push away the feeling that he’s missing out by not being in school).

No, Mr. Lovell doesn’t know who she is, because her boyfriend didn’t say. Couldn’t bring himself to say. Couldn’t bring himself to say the G word.

She’d asked Lauren from the student paper to take her to him after class. She missed him, plus she thought he shouldn’t be all alone on his way back home. He does plenty of lonely driving throughout the week. And since Lauren does everything for everyone, she actually said yes. Fifteen minutes later, Nancy was at a place she’d never been before. Here they were at the end of October, and she hadn’t been. She had no idea where her five star trades-boy turned in his paintbrush at the end of the day.

She’d wandered in, into the little white office that likely used to be a shed, all open windows and whirring box fans and latex fumes. On a stool, he filled out his timesheet. She gave him a hug around the neck from behind, avoiding the sensitive surface of his sunburned arms.

Made him jump, then made him relax.

“Sorry, I knew that would scare you. I’m not trespassing, am I?”

“No, you—no, not trespassing at all. What time is it?”

She tilted her head sideways and consulted her watch. “5:11,” she said. Tilted her head more, more, more, trying to kiss his jaw and its underside.

Hung over his shoulders like that, she took her first deep breath of the day. Tendrils of dried paint stretched across his shirt collar and sleeves, the kind of spiderweb splatters that don’t come out in the wash. She watched him jot down a couple light-handed notes in all capital letters. His name was everywhere on the page and highlighted in some instances, an indication of overtime work. She had felt weird then for being judgy—felt bad—thinking maybe there was a chance he was where he needed to be. Not school, right here. Humble, dependable, and first-rate.

Then Mr. Lovell came in.

And ruined everything.

“Jonathan, you heading out soon?”

“Oh, right now, actually. Turns out we can’t pick up anything until tomorrow morning. Like, anything at all, they said.”

“Yikes. Oh well, then.”

“Apparently our order got delayed because of the tight space rollers.”

“Hm. Tight space rollers, they never have them in, do they?”

“No, sir, never. They never ever have anything below a 6 inch.”

She stayed still, reading the room. Gauging the boss. Lovell didn’t seem to mind her or her public display of affection. He was a youngish man, son to the original Mr. Lovell of Lovell Painting, tall and nonchalant with the look of a relatable salesman.

“Hey. Jake Lovell,” he finally said to her. “Don’t think I’ve met you before, how’s it going?”

“Hey, good, thanks.” In the subsequent silence she waited. Waited for what was sure to come. Oh yeah, sorry, this is my girlfriend, Nancy. This is Nancy, we just moved in together. This is the girl I told you about, Nancy Wheeler. We’ve been dating for almost two years. She’s the best. Nancy is the best. Hey, guess what, my girlfriend Nancy once repainted her little sister’s dollhouse from top to bottom, think we should hire her next?

He kept his mouth shut.

“I’m Nancy,” she sighed.

“Oh, okay, you’re Nancy.”

Had he heard the name before? If he had, that must have been all he heard. His eyes were brimming with confusion.

“That’s me,” she said and untangled herself from her betrayer, the one she’d been draped over like some sleepy starfish.

Starfish didn’t want to cling anymore.

“She’s Nancy,” he’d mumbled while clearing off the desk.

The eldest in the room clocked the tension between them. “Well, you know it was nice to meet you, Nancy, but I’ve gotta get going. Be careful around the mess, you look very professional in those clothes.”

She slid her hands down the sides of her thighs, black slacks swishing above high heels.

“You look very…casual, Mr. Lovell. Guess we’ll see you later.”

And that was it.

And that was then. This is now: now, she is pouting. The most pathetic pouting session she's had to date. This is textbook manipulation pouting and then some, this is wallowing in the events of the afternoon like they involved theft, fraud, and murder.

Is she putting on a performance here? Yes, duh, of course she is. But is she down about what he said (and didn’t say) earlier? Also yes. That part is real. He did make her sad.

Yes.

Lucky for her, she’s got tricks in her bag.

Exactly four tricks, to be precise, for this type of situation. One, a shower—a shower taken earlier than usual. To get away and to get out of restrictive clothing (restrictive clothing doesn’t mix well with sadness). No more black slacks, no more newsgirl blouse. No jewelry either, it’s totally unnecessary. Unless…keep your necklace on, if you want, since that can be played with. Really you just have to remember that comfort is what works. Wet hair is what works. An XL shirt works, and peach soap works, and so does a frown, and so does a thick pair of socks, for whatever reason.

Two is a book. Not a short book, pick a long book. Flip to the beginning to read. Beginnings are hard to get through, and he knows it. He will empathize. Three, lack of light. The less light in the room, the better. Not only have you chosen to start a long book after 5pm without having even eaten dinner, you’ve chosen to do so without sufficient reading light. That’s true misery.

Four, the most important trick, is a bad record. Just awful. It needs to be scratched, it needs to skip. Needs to skip a lot. Your record should make other records worry about where they’ll be in ten years. Jonathan Byers doesn’t want this for you; if you are his favorite person, and listening to music is the best thing anyone can do, your tolerance of a broken record will rile him. You deserve better. He will want to compensate for all the hurt caused by your subpar listening experience.

“Nancy?” he says from the doorway.

“Mhm.”

“Good shower?”

“Sure. Good shower.”

“You beat me to it.”

It’s an understatement. Without a word, she had headed for the shower. Very first thing she did when they got to the apartment. She went to turn the water on, still wearing her shoes, and waited for it to get hot, and never once looked back.

She curls in on herself on the bed, avoiding his gaze. “Since when did you decide you have first dibs on everything?” she murmurs to her book. To Middlemarch.

“Uh, no, it's not that, I just meant that I’m…pretty paint-y, at the moment. You know?”

The response is delivered innocently, harmlessly, lightly, and she almost considers backing down, ditching the majority of her plan or maybe all of it. Almost considers, before deciding against. (She has to soldier on; his adorable use of a made-up word doesn’t fix a thing, now does it?)

“Right.”

“There’s so much primer on my hands, it’s the worst feeling in the world. It’s so bad. It’s like…it’s like if someone brushed plaster right onto my palm and then let it harden. Overnight.”

“Mhm.”

A break in the tense conversation comes and gives those background noise record screeches their moment to shine. Leaning on the doorframe, he winces.

“So,” she shifts her body until the blanket slips, “did you need something, or…”

Their eyes meet. His are sleepy–his are suddenly charged with doubt, two dark wells of worry.

“No, nothing, I don’t…it…it seems like you might be the one that needs something?”

She huffs. It seems like she needs something? For that she won’t go easy on him. A fake cry might cross her mind, if she were a psychopath, but fortunately for both of them she’s not. Sincere regret is already cocooning her, compacting itself with each passing minute, a dense shroud of claustrophobic ickiness. Not always as fun as you’d plan for: guilt tripping someone who’s hopelessly devoted. Really, how hard is it to have a mature conversation about the way you feel neglected in this one marginal area of the relationship, even though you’re well taken care of in all the others. Very hard, it turns out. Very very hard.

And besides, this is how the Jonathan and Nancy network operates. She uses her upset to make weird power moves. He lies about his upset altogether. The system is what it is.

“If you care so much, figure it out yourself.” It’s a feeble whisper, accessorized with the twitch of her bottom lip and an arbitrary sniffle. She flips over to the eighth page of Middlemarch. Pulls her blanket back up over her waist. The leftover scent of her body wash is strong, so strong, even in her own nose. It’s like peach sorbet and paint thinner had a baby in their bedroom.

“Nancy…”

His voice has that deconstructed softness in it, gentle yet desperate, which is highly familiar. He uses it constantly. That’s the trick in his bag, but she’s not quite sure he knows it’s a trick. Because of it, the whole stay-mad-at-him project isn’t gonna be smooth sailing. She swallows hard, necklace pendant between her fingers.

“Hey, what happened?” He steps closer to the bed and uncrosses his arms. “This isn’t…it isn’t about Lauren, right?”

Oh, wow. Okay. Clueless.

“Because you really do ask her for a lot of favors, and I know she’s always happy to do them, but just…maybe don’t make her drive out there again. Not when I’m literally clocking out.”

“Oh…” She closes her book and fixes her eyes on the window. That one actually does make her want to cry.

“No, don’t,” he pleads, “don’t do the sad oh thing. You’re gonna make me sad. You’re gonna break me.”

The sigh that escapes her is fully authentic in its lethargy. Her fingertips play over the pillow under her head and its silky case. “Sorry, it’s just that now you think I take advantage of Lauren and you don’t like to see me at work, so.”

“No, I love to see you, I had no idea you would come after class just for that. It was really nice.”

“Yeah, so nice—”

“Until you ignored me in the car, yes!”

Hugging her own waist, she draws up her knees. God, that record…it should be physically impossible for ABBA to ever sound bad but this is pushing it. How truly depressing.

She imagines that the invisible thread connecting his heart to hers is starting to fray at this point; those grating sounds in his ears, the mix of chemicals on his skin, the intentionally seductive nature of her pity party, the annoying flicker of the lamp in the corner (only thing the previous tenants left behind when they moved, the sole forgotten object). All of it must be torturing him.

He picks up her book off the mattress, leaves it in the windowsill to—sunbathe? Who knows, honestly.

"Look,” he says, “I think we might need to take a second before we get into this. Do you want me to leave you alone for a minute? Would that help, or no?”

Apprehensively he reaches down, down to touch her shoulder, sort of…petting her, a few times. What you’d do if you found a wild jaguar in your backyard, but it was a really sweet looking jaguar.

When she doesn’t bite, he bravely makes eye contact with her. “You just have to tell me what you want, that’s all I need.”

(Such a good boyfriend when he’s trying. Holy shit.)

Fearful that the affection wave will show on her face, she flips over, switching sides. “Want you to lay down,” she mumbles.

Well that wasn’t part of the plan.

She listens for his reaction. A deep breath in, a deep breath out. “I’m filthy, you do realize that.”

“We’ve gone to bed wearing monster blood…”

He shrugs his jacket off.

(So, the summer had been a violent ride. Summer of ‘86, filed away in her brain with the rest of her nightmare inventory forever. All’s said and done now. Maybe they’re finally safe. God, please.)

It takes them a sec to get settled, but he hems her in, wraps her up, holds her close without any further begging. It’s crazy satisfying. Plaster-rough hand curls around her ribs under her shirt, and his nose brushes her neck. Antsy, she shuffles her feet together, scrunched socks keeping her warm.

“You genuinely—”

“Smell so good?” she predicts.

“Yeah.”

“New soap.”

“Ten out of ten.”

“Well, you know, it’s not formaldehyde, but what is?”

“Give me some slack,” he murmurs, “not my fault all my passions involve chemicals.”

Painting houses is his passion now? Alright, good to know. It’s that, developing photos, and being so much of a dummy he forgets to introduce his girlfriend to his boss when they first meet.

Again: exactly the kind of boy Emerson is looking for.

A minute later he’s kissing her neck.

Yeah, not sure how that happened.

After taking his first few tastes, he quickly stops himself. “Wait, can I do this?” he wonders aloud.

“I’ll let you decide. Do you think you should be doing that?”

“I don’t know. On the one hand,” he places a soft kiss at the base of her throat, “I still haven’t figured out what’s going on with you.”

Her eyelids flutter. “And on the other?”

Mouth barely open, he drags the tip of his tongue across her collarbone in one slow slide. “On the other I think—”

She fails to repress a squeaky whimper, which makes him falter.

“…that doing this could maybe, just maybe, help me get information out of you.”

She’s lost her breath so fast. “Decisions, decisions,” she manages to get out.

Second option wins him over. Next he’s tangling up his hand in her wet hair, kissing her neck like there really is peach sorbet to be found in her pores. He hums while getting acclimated to the malleability of her damp skin, impossibly supple malleability, and lingers with his mouth at her pulse point before giving in and sucking on it, not hard enough to make a bruise, but enough to make blood rush to her head.

She grabs the back of his neck in an attempt to stay anchored and from there he surrenders, from there he lets her force the path that his lips map out on her. Chapped but sticky with spit, they part and purse on her jaw, softly massaging the bone.

“Please can we get you a new album soon,” he whispers, “this is painful.”

“Hm?”

“The record’s a disaster, throw it away.”

“Don’t tell me to throw my things away,” she slurs weakly.

Her thigh catches his hip, and she bucks a little, rocks a little. Nothing crazy, just dirty. She can’t help herself.

“Tell me what upset my girlfriend and I won’t say anything ever again for the rest of my life.”

-

There it is. Jesus, it’s what she wanted. See, there’s no pronunciation issue after all. Girlfriend. His girlfriend.

She goes perfectly still. He may not realize she’s all shook up inside, but he notices the outward change, that’s for sure.

Time to get into it.

She takes a moment to prepare herself. “Are you ready to listen?”

“I’ve been ready, Nance.”

“Okay. It wasn’t about Lauren,” she spills, “Lauren and I are fine. We didn’t have a fight, we’ve never had a fight, and after she dropped me off today she told me she likes the drive to Middlesex because the roads are so smooth and driving calms her down and she gets sick of being in Boston, and I promise I’m not lying when I tell you this, but she offered to take me again tomorrow, I swear to you she did.”

“Okay, I believe you—”

“Though now I’m thinking I don’t even want to take her up on the offer, because me being there was clearly an unwanted change that didn’t exactly mean anything to anyone, and if you seriously don’t know what made me switch up today I need you to ask yourself how you think my conversation with your manager made me feel earlier.”

“You’re upset because of…something Mr. Lovell said?”

He’s so lost.

“No, because of what you said.”

“And what did I say?”

“It’s what you didn’t say. Jonathan, you didn’t tell him who I was. You didn’t introduce me at all.”

“I’m—sorry, you…you introduced yourself, why would I need to—”

“He doesn’t know you’re dating me.”

“But he does? It’s kind of obvious, isn’t it? Without words?”

“No! Not without words. For all he knows I’m some random girl you met on the street, next thing you know he’ll be setting you up on dates with his niece and scheduling you to work Valentine’s Day. You’re supposed to be upfront about us and you never, ever are. Why aren’t you?”

His turn to pout now. He rests his head on her shoulder. “I don’t know? Sometimes it feels like…”

The gears in his brain go on and on, and his blush deepens. “Like fishing for attention.”

“Well that’s why I’m sad, you’re why I’m sad. You don’t want attention, so you don’t call me your girlfriend. Maybe once a month, if that. You don’t call me your girlfriend a lot and I love when you call me your girlfriend. There’s nothing unclear about a word like that."

“I…can do better, I didn’t know it was a big deal to you. That I say it more.”

“Duh, I don’t wanna feel invisible. I want you to talk about me.”

Her heart pounds with the energy of the moment, with surfacing reminders of how different they are. The silence expands around them, his breathing shallow. This is really the first time it’s dawning on him, the depth of her need for validation? Maybe she forgot that acknowledgment of their relationship outside their private bubble is not something he would go for without being asked. Maybe she forgot.

"So it’s not the word,” he says, “it’s telling people?”

“I like privacy, I do, but what’s between us needs to be something others can see. Something they don’t have to guess on.”

Yeah, keeping their peers guessing in high school was good. Low-key meant less harassment, fewer problems. Having said that, high school is gone forever.

He nods. “I get it. I'll get it, eventually. I’ll try.”

“Okay. Good. Thank you.”

Though the conflict isn’t totally resolved, it kind of feels resolved for tonight. At least that’s what her hormones want her to go with, shifting back and forth, this way and that, residing on the rockiest of tectonic plates that have been calibrated to him for longer than he knows. As strange as her first two months of college have been, as many messes as they’re making in their relationship, she has infinite confidence in the Jonathan and Nancy network. All things considered, this is the right time to be messy, they’ll have plenty of room to clean up the love when they’ve grown up. Fighting isn’t fun but…it feels amazing to know he’s in this with her, wading out to her in the swell of their mature immaturity, sticking up for young love even after their conflict resolution turns chaotic.

He loves her, and whenever she’s blue, he begs her to let him fix it. Neither of them rest easy until the blue gets painted over.

“Hey, girlfriend?”

She breathes out a laugh. “What?”

“Since we’re sharing…”

She tilts her head back, pushes her nose against his gently. “Careful, don’t say something you shouldn’t.”

“I really like it when you use your revenge soap against me. Very evil, but I like it.”

[bibiana112]

Kinda weird question- do you have any links to people talking about Mira from ZTD and ableist stereotypes? I mentioned that I was uncomfortable with her portrayal but kinda fumbled it and made some other ND people in chat uncomfortable. I searched for various keyword combinations but most of what I'm finding is like "and not to mention the ableism with Mira" and doesn't elaborate lol.

Not weird at all! And uh, you see, there's a recent post I made where what I complain about is the very fact I've never seen anyone post too in-depth about her at all, I'd love to see posts that do elaborate on that but I do not have any that I know of right now, sorry :/ hopefully someone else who sees this can point to one? Okay!! After some tag searches I have found exactly one post who kind of gets into it I like this take still would love to see. more than just one but hooray

And like though I complain I couldn't elaborate much on it myself I don't think, I believe most of the posts people make about Saito from aitsf would apply since it's a different uchikoshi take on the very same trope of "emotionless characters who cannot function without killing others" I guess he's a worse portrayal though since she's at least not stated to get reward brain chemicals when killing people and I guess her case also has the added layer of "femme fatale" to it? Which either makes it less bad or worse depending on where you approach it from As I said I am not doing a good job of being coherent on this oh and also there's her being "redeemed" and "cured" in the epilogue which in on itself is kinda not great to imply it just goes away like that and honestly I personally don't even buy it I think she'd just be like oh okay Akane over here has like a thousand reasons to hate me after all that oh and what's that she's the leader of a super wealthy underground organization who's organized one of these death traps before yeah no I'm better off going to prison I'll be fine there lmao bye

But I'll say as an autistic person with relatively low empathy I usually see a character who just doesn't understand other people's feelings and wants to feel them too and is just trying to survive despite getting no help and I just kinda go hm. yeah. shout-out to roxas kingdom hearts shout out to mary from ib shout out that's why I started hyperfixating on media art helps me with understanding others a great lot and Mira is just in a story too badly executed for me to care or even begin to wrap my head around tbh like god she's so fucking terribly used as a plot device in every conceivable way that it makes it difficult to see past it and into what she could possibly be if it weren't for the stereotype of equalling low empathy with no compassion what's with her killing off screen in ways that wildly deviate from her stated m.o? why or how was she even in cahoots with Zero why was that a thing? Honestly her dynamic with Sean could have been better fleshed out could have done something interesting about robot child and his aspd big sis but we just kind of don't get any attention brought to the subject of emotions and the authenticity there of except for the "reveal"...

YOU KNOW WHAT that's probably one huge reason it feels so fucked up actually! Like the whole fucking game is written so you could experience it in whatever order you want and therefore Mira being a serial killer at all is something that though not very well hidden it also cannot be a topic of discussion or explored Ever ever because the player may not have seen the fragment where that is revealed yet- problem being the menu design of that game sucks so bad and practically everyone gravitates towards the same few more interesting looking thumbnails first and then the rest is kinda just there, I mean that is part of the reason A Lot of characters feel half-baked I think but also I think it definitely does impact perception of her character specifically probably The Most and then there's just the general not being given nuance not being able to see the minutiae of how that disorder manifests in her character aside from the killings about how she acts aside from being overly flirty trying to lure in Eric but that affects pretty much all of the new cast we don't have last names and in her case we barely have any backstory at all like Saito is a harmful stereotype sure but we get So Much Context for him that people still love talking about him and delving into different aspects of his life since we have that very well telegraphed in the narrative meanwhile for Mira all we can do is fill in the blanks guesswork that only highlights the worst aspects of the surface level portrayal we got and ultimately that people just don't care enough to dissect because there isn't much there character wise once you remove it

[kaisacobra]

Sam and Kate??? *gasp*

I would kill for that, I would DIE for that. Teeny-tiny one shot or hcs about this please? 🥹🙏

Ok, so...

Sam Carpenter x Kate Bishop HCs (in Second Best au!)

It all started when Kate began hanging around the core four + you and Anika more often, mainly because she wanted to be sure that you'd be fine near Tara again.

Also because she became gym buddies with Chad rather quickly.

At some point, she started to notice that Sam was... really, really attractive. Kate was all for her "tough guy" persona and everytime Sam wore a tank top you swore you saw Kate sweating.

And my girl, Kate Bishop, isn't subtle at all and tbh she never wanted to be. She started flirting with Sam, spending more time around her when you guys did something together, offering to teach her a bit of martial arts and self defense. (she stopped offering when Sam beat her in an arm wrestle in less than 5 seconds, but Kate had been fairly distracted ogling Sam's biceps)

At first, Sam just didn't really cared (?). Like, she thought maybe Kate was just playing and kind of shrugged her attention off as if it was just a joke.

But Sam wasn't blind. She knew that Kate was gorgeous and she even liked her dorky self behind all of the "Rich Heir" poise. And then Sam started to notice more things, like how dedicated Kate was to her friends and her job and how she managed to balance her responsabilities and her studies.

Basically, Kate had a golden personality and seemed to be a stable and driven person. That was exactly Sam's type.

But, since nothing in sb!au is easy, of course we would have some miscommunication to spice things up.

Sam would kind of steer away from Kate because she was trying really hard to make her feelings go away.

First, because she thought Kate deserved better than someone as messed up as her. Second, because she'd seen how a bad relationship could ruin a group (cough, cough, Tara.) and she didn't want you guys to go through something like that again.

On Kate's side, she noticed Sam getting more distant and she took it as a sign to give up her attemps. She respected it, of course, but she started sulking and pouting everywhere, like a kid without her candy.

At this point, everyone else in the group could tell what was going on BUT the two of them and, as the good friends you were, you just had to intervene.

I'm not gonna give too much details but just know that alcohol, a closet and a key on Mindy's pocket was pretty much all that was needed for this mission.

Anyways, they are a cute couple with the usual sunshine x grumpy trope. Kate is big on PDA and is always holding tightly on Sam's arm even though she can handle herself just fine.

And Sam is grateful for that because, while she does love taking care of Kate, she also loves knowing that Kate could do the same for her, if needed.

Sam proposed the idea of them going to the gym together once, but Kate got so distracted with her on the first day that she missed Chad's swing when they were sparring. Sam couldn't hold back her laughter while applying ice to Kate's bruise.

Also, you and Tara actually had an improvement in your own relationship because of them, as both of you had to spend more time together (mostly talking about how sweet and disgustingly cute they were as a couple).

They complete each other very well and they have a very stable and loving relationship that all of you are very fond of. (although Anika did threatened them if they ever thought about getting married before her and Mindy.)

[sharpen-your-hatchet]

What I Feel; What I Do; What I want || Wenclair fic - Chapter 2

Description: "Frankly, all her life, she has felt separation between what she feels, what she does, and what she actually wants. Being royalty means there's often little room for opinion and desire [...]; Enid wonders how it'll feel to have her ingrained sense of duty be pitted against her unshackled curiosity. "

Six months past her 19th birthday - Enid, princess of The Kingdom of Nevermore, is allowed the chance to travel and explore the world as she sees fit. Unfortunately, it comes with a little caveat... in the form of some unwelcome company for protection. Cue Wednesday Addams, the only knight deemed worthy, and who is now Enid's personal thorn in her side.

Can they work together despite their differences? Or maybe fate has an entirely different plan for them altogether...

Pairing: Wednesday Addams / Enid Sinclair Rating: Teens & Up Word Count: 6,686

Click Here To Read On AO3 or read below!

x-x-x-x-x-x

Annoyance. Exasperation. Detestation.

Three words that can entirely summarise Wednesday’s feelings concerning her latest assignment. It is the second day of travelling, and she already finds herself growing weary of the ‘beloved’ princess. They have not travelled far yet – the royal castle still visible on the horizon, which is frankly pitiful considering they are on horses – and as such, Wednesday is half tempted to turn around. They should have moved along faster, but the princess… well, she is clearly not trained in the art of making progress. Alas, returning to the castle isn’t really an option.

If the princess is not idly talking, she’s uncontrollably laughing and joking; if she’s not laughing, she’s freaking out over an insect or some wild boar that got slightly too close – if neither of these apply, she’s paused their travelling for yet another sketching/writing session. Frankly, it is all exhaustingly slow.

Wednesday has never cared much for the royal family aside from the fact they pay her – and now, having to work regrettably up close, she is even less inclined to find them palatable. Admittedly, she is dutiful to her work, and she is not going to least Enid to fend for herself but if they keep moving at this pace, then Wednesday thinks she may potentially die of old age before they reach all four corners of the kingdom.

This is perhaps the worst assignment ever.

A knight of her calibre is trained and prepared for the most dangerous of missions. She is a Nightshade – a member of an elite, secretive force of knights and spies, who work for the royal family on a need-to-know basis…

She should be back in the castle town: investigating, deal-making; doing the occasional bit of torture when required. She should be assigned to making people disappear in the middle of the night and ensuring no one questions why… and yet, here she is, quietly following the epitome of human sunshine as she stops to smell yet another bush of wildflowers.

This is beneath her. It is embarrassing.

Wednesday tugs on the reigns of her horse Nero, pulling him to a stop. She looks towards the princess who has ventured into a small patch of woodland, and she sighs, clambering off and jogging after her. Despite – once again – it only being the second day, this is not the first time Enid has decided to abandon her to go look at something without so much as a warning. It is incredibly irritating. Though, maybe that’s the point… after all, it did seem as though Enid was not too happy with being accompanied in the first place. Not that Wednesday cares. It’s her job and she’s being paid, so Enid has to deal with her regardless. The feeling of not wanting the other’s company is entirely mutual.

Standing a short distance from Enid, Wednesday watches with a dutiful glare. The small woodland is a nice escape from the midday sun, but it doesn’t little to cool-off Wednesday’s mood. She feels impatient, desperately so… all this time wasting, it’s just ridiculous, and for what? So the princess can write a silly little book? As far as she’s aware, this isn’t even the point of their journey anyway. Not that the prince consort told her the exact reason… No, that was very much left to interpretation.

“Are you just going to stand there and stare?” The princess asks, suddenly. She stands up from where she is crouching, and turns to show off a flower that glows faintly blue. “The least you could do is pretend to be interested.”

Wednesday looks at the flower, then back to Enid. She says nothing, feeling neither the need nor want.

My job is to follow you, not to be interested she thinks to herself, as Enid approaches with the flower in hand.

“Moon Glow. Quite a rare find in the woods around here.” Enid announces. She smiles, gently pressing the flower between two pages of her notebook. “Lucky I spotted it.”

Wednesday recognises an expectant look in her eye – one that begs a response. Again, she feels little desire to say anything at all, instead preferring this little detour is ended as soon as possible. Besides, Moon Glow is much more common in other parts of the land, and it was certainly not worth stopping for. Mentioning either of these things will likely go down poorly. Not that she would particularly care, but she turns away and walks back to the horses without responding regardless. The day presses on and they need to be nearing a stables and trading post by nightfall. That is all she cares about.

Enid rejoins Wednesday moments later and hops back onto her horse. They continue travelling in silence… but it doesn’t last long.

It never does.

The princess has already exhausted all manner of conversational topics… or tried to, at least. Wednesday is not one for talking, conversing, chatting, nor gossiping – she much prefers silence, with only short sentences when necessary. It’s easier that way. This hasn’t stopped Enid however, who enquiries for both information and opinion frequently. Wednesday has gotten away with giving little, but she has a feeling eventually the princess will grow tired of her quiet nature. It won’t change anything, but she awaits the princess’ annoyance, in any case.

At least if they both hate each other, the princess will stop being so expecting. Wednesday can only hope.

Enid muses away for a while, talking of her hopes and dreams for this expedition. She mentions something about discovering her true self and the truth of the land – a whole speech of whimsical bullshit that has Wednesday rolling her eyes and silently despairing as she realises just how long this journey is actually going to be. Wednesday regrets very few of her life choices – she prides herself on being steadfast and knowing exactly what she wants… and she did want this job. It sounded interesting. A chance to travel and get paid for it? Very few knights get such a chance unless they’re on a literal battlefield. Yet, the more she hears the princess’ idealistic take on how this adventure of theirs will go, the more Wednesday regrets her decision. She’d actually rather be on a battlefield right now, in fact. At least she’d be forgiven for murdering someone.

Not that she would murder the princess, that is.

Probably.

(She won’t, she wants to get paid)

After some time, Enid’s speech trails off and she turns her head back. She frowns slightly. Concern is not an expression that sits on her face naturally… “You don’t talk much,” She comments.

I don’t need to talk.

Wednesday raises an eyebrow. What does the princess care? They’re barely even acquaintances. She should probably verbalise that. Ugh. “Don’t need to,” Wednesday grunts.

“But-”

“I’m not your friend,” She adds. This is already far too many words. She hates it, but the point needs to be made.

Enid’s frown drops into a slight pout. She glances down, pursing her lips and silently turning her head back towards the trail they’re following. She stops speaking. The silence is much welcomed.

They continue onwards, and for an hour or so, there is nothing but the sound of nature and their horses’ hooves against the path they’re following. It’s peaceful, and much preferable from the sound of incessant chatter. Wednesday would nearly enjoy it, if it were not for the sun beating down on them. No, this kind of empty scenery can only be enjoyed with an overcast sky – perhaps a little drizzle of rain… Alas, some rain would probably mean the princess would want to take shelter under some trees and then they’d be progressing even slower than they already are. Which - to be frank – is the exact opposite of Wednesday’s wants right now. She ultimately decides the sun is fine.

Time moves forward.They pass a few fellow travellers. Mostly traders and farmers, who offer a polite smile and nod. Strangely, none seem to recognise Enid as the princess, though there is certainly a glint of recognition in their eyes and a stiffening in their posture as they pass and meet Wednesday’s own. It’s delightful, the sudden drop of their features as they recognise her knights garb, and the sword attached to her. Admittedly, Wednesday has not done much in terms of being public facing – so it’s quite amusing in its own way to see how regular folk react.

Still, it is perplexing that they do not recognise their own royal family. Of course, Enid’s appearance is largely different from usual, and this journey of hers has commenced unannounced to prevent anyone taking advantage of the princess being away from home… but surely one of these people should have noticed? Perhaps they are simply too cowardly to speak to her. Or too idiotic to realise who it is. Wednesday would guess the latter.

Though it would seem Wednesday spoke – or well, thought – too soon.

Not much time later, another traveller comes rambling along, meeting Wednesday and Enid at a fork in their path. To the left leads to the trading post (their intended destination), and to the right leads into a darker forested path that’s dingy and eerie, with the sun unable to penetrate the thick vegetation. There’s a bad vibe to it – the complete opposite to the croft of trees Enid has ventured into earlier. It’s the kind of place Wednesday would find most intriguing to explore and get lost in, but certainly not when lumped with the princess…

The traveller they meet pauses and gestures for them to stop. The princess – annoyingly amicable as always – does instantly, leaving Wednesday no choice but to stop also lest their horses bump into one another. Wednesday sighs quietly and watches Enid chat to the man, feeling an impatient grumble bubbling in her chest. Why can’t they just keep moving? If they stop for every person who wants their action they won’t make it anywhere.

“I really am surprised to see part of the royal family out here. Quite amazing, actually!” The man says after some boring introduction. He smiles. It’s ugly and off-putting.

Ugh. Bootlicker.

He continues, peering at Wednesday,“Is...is that a knight following you?”

Don’t you dare-

“I could actually use some help…”

The audacity.

The traveller continues again despite the glare Wednesday offers him. Something about a monster in the woods scaring folks on their way to the trading post. Seeing as they must be heading to the trading post, it only makes sense for someone ‘brave and strong’ to head into the trees and clear out any trouble, so the route is safe. The man points out it would be the perfect job for a knight. After all, it’s their job to make sure people are safe. Except, Wednesday doesn’t care if the route is safe for everyone. She’s not a regular knight, and her only concern is the princess – which, frankly she doesn’t even care that greatly about anyway, it’s simply her duty she must stick to.

She glances to Enid, then to the man again. “No.” She says plainly. She tugs on Nero’s reins and directs him around Enid, towards the trading post path. She isn’t a hero for hire, or a selfless adventurer looking for glory. The monster in the woods is not her problem. Some other knight will come along soon; it’s time to go.

“Wednesday,” Enid calls.

Wednesday pulls Nero to a stop again, turning around and scowling upon realising Enid has not moved at all. She quirks an eyebrow, feeling irritation sapping away the last of her patience. They need to keep moving. This is ridiculous, and she will not be made to-

“I’m not moving until you help this man.”

Wednesday feels her jaw tighten, a million sharp tongued remarks alighting and dying in the back of her throat. She won’t say them; she hates speaking as it is… but Gods, the simmering flame of distaste for the princess has quickly grown into a burning dislike. Who does she think she is?!

Wednesday glares at Enid.

Enid stares right back. “You are my knight, aren’t you?”

Yes but I am not your servant, Wednesday thinks. She remains silent though, and sees the man glance between them nervously.

Enid continues, “Then, as my knight, your job is to protect me. Stopping the monster in the woods is protecting me, is it not?”

Wednesday’s face twitches, flickering with palpable frustration. The audacity. The boldness- Nay, the outright disrespect. Yet incredibly and undeniably smart. Enid has poised Wednesday’s sense of duty against her… and, as is often the case, she feels a conflict between what she feels, what she will do, and what she actually wants. It is often the case with her assignments – Life isn’t fair, and she accepts it for what it is. But never has it been this blasé; this despicable… because, unfortunately, she is now forced to do the ‘right’ thing. It will protect the princess, and protecting the princess is her job. How undermining. Despite her feelings towards it; despite how much she does not want to help anyone (she barely wants to help Enid) – it is her duty. What she is assigned to do. She must listen, lest she wish to end up with her head on the chopping block.

It’s almost tempting at this point…

Wednesday glares down Enid for another moment, before clambering off her horse. “Fine.”

Enid smiles, seeming smug in her victory. The traveller watches as Wednesday climbs down from Nero, gawking slightly as she brushes herself down. A half laugh catches in his throat. “You’re uh- … A little short to be a knight, aren’t you?”

Wednesday hits him with a scowl. She reaches for her blade and he recoils slightly, looking sheepish and scared.

Pathetic.

Better get this over with, then. Wednesday takes one last look at Enid and the man before actually drawing her weapon and – with a sigh – finally stalking carefully towards the thick woodland. She cannot believe she is doing this. At the command of the princess no less. She understands the agreement she made; the contract and pact she must stick to… but honestly. How can it only be their second day of travelling and she has been reduced to doing side quests for strangers they come across on the side of the road. It does not bode well for the rest of the journey. She refuses to be at Enid’s beck and call… or well, she does in theory. In practice, it seems the call of duty may trump her wants and desires. It feels inconvenient but inevitable.

Wednesday squints, staring as far as she can into the shaded trees. There’s no sign of movement; even less sound, except for a rustle of wind and the gentle buzz of insects. She tapes another step. Then another. Despite the eerie appearance, there is nothing that suggests anything dangerous lurks within the trees. There’s no strange noises, nor smells; not even tracks in the mud path. Wednesday presses on regardless. It wouldn’t be surprising if this ‘monster’ was lurking deeper into the woods, where it can hide away from sight. Granted, she would expect something to indicate it was here… yet the further she goes, the more peaceful this dark patch of trees seems to become. It’s almost disappointing.

Wednesday pauses in an area where the tree density is lower and looks around herself. There’s nothing here. No monster, and no danger. What a waste of her time.

But then-

A scream.

The princess.

Without a thought, Wednesday’s feet find flight. They retrace her steps out of the trees, pounding against the dry mud. Her feelings are cast aside – a single mantra repeating with every single step. Protect the princess. Protect the princess. Protect the princess. Protect- She comes skidding out of the tree line; her sword is drawn and poised ready to strike at the monster that somehow evaded her. She doesn’t understand how this could be - how the monster could’ve crept around her without a sound. But that doesn’t matter. Now it dies.

Except. There is no monster.

Just Enid, and the “traveller”. With a knife in hand and held to Enid’s neck.

Wednesday’s legs grind to a halt, paused only a few metres from them both. She glares at the man, the anger rising like bile in her throat… It was all a ruse. But an idiotic one at that: He is much too confident in his ability to harm someone under her protection. Wednesday does feel a pang of something – irritation, perhaps. She had missed any signs of the man having ill intention. She knows why. She was too busy being defiant and stand-offish against the princess – Too distracted feeling slighted by the ridiculous situation she has been unwittingly thrown into. Though, arguably, the princess was also distracted trying to be difficult in her own way. The man would not have had chance to attack had she just followed Wednesday in the first place… So it’s not even really her fault.

Not that there’s time to think about it, anyway.

Enid squirms in the man’s arms. He grunts and holds the knife tighter. “Be quiet, princess.” He whispers, his voice slimy and obnoxious. “Looks like your little knight couldn’t find the monster.” He lets out a mocking laugh then cocks his head to the side. “You best be dropping any coin pouches you’re holding onto.”

Wednesday’s brows twitch. Frankly, she couldn’t care less about her feelings for the princess, nor this poor excuse for an adventure. She doesn’t plan developing any sentiment for either – but she cares about her reputation as a knight who doesn’t take shit, and always finishes a job… and right now, this bottom-feeder is preventing her from doing that (and it’s barely even started to begin with). So naturally, it’s time he pays. She poises her hand over her sword, covertly unsheathing a throwing knife that lays hidden in the gauntlet of her free hand. Even with her agility, there isn’t time to rush over and cut him down. It’s unfortunate, since she finds fighting up-close so much more rewarding. It’s nice to see the fear in an enemy’s eyes before they fall…

Focus. She chides herself. She angles her hand to aim.

The man begins to grow irate, “Well? Get moving. I’m not fooling around!”

Wednesday’s eyes pierce into his own. The slightest of smirks grows onto her lips. “As you wish.” She replies simply. She flicks her wrist. The knife flies through the air; hits him squarely in the wrist of the hand that holds the knife. It’s but a second of time but Wednesday enjoys every moment as he realises, releases Enid; recoils, then writhes with a dramatic screech that pulls from his throat.

With Enid free, Wednesday sees little point in hanging around. She approaches the princess, who stares at her wide eyed and speechless, wordlessly directing her towards her horse. Wednesday then approaches the man who weeps and clutches his arm. He looks up, grumbling curses and attempts a pathetic last-stand – A headbutt. How ridiculous. Wednesday steps aside, grabbing the knife impaled in his wrist as he passes and kicks him down as she yanks it. The thief stumbles onto the ground with a cry and lays in a heap. Wednesday sighs at how unnecessary it all is, but says nothing – there’s nothing to be said about such a pathetic creature.

With the man incapacitated, Wednesday climbs upon her own horse and silently begins leading the way on their intended path. Enid follows without question. It’s quiet for a while. A long while, in fact. Wednesday welcomes the silence, but finds it perturbing that the princess is so lost for words. If anything, she would expect a tirade of words and excited rambles and yet...nothing.

That is until perhaps an hour or so later, when the trading post is nearing and society no longer feels a million miles away.

Enid clears her throat. “You stopped that man even though you don’t even like me...”

They travel in silence for a moment longer. Wednesday lets the statement sit, letting it pass through her. She cannot claim any fondness for the princess. They don’t know each other, and Wednesday does not want to get familiar. Especially if more trouble is what awaits them. It does not bode well, not one bit… but it is undeniable that her duty (and the aforementioned money) keeps her protective regardless. She imagines such a concept must be foreign to Enid – to dislike something and yet preserve it anyway.

Wednesday shrugs very slightly. “It is my job.”

She hears Enid mumble from behind her. She does not hear exactly and cares not to ask, but Wednesday feels assured that their ambivalent – but leaning antagonistic – relationship remains steadfast. Good. That is what she requires.

And so as the day draws on, and turns into night, they don’t talk. Or eat together. Enid simply writes in her book, and Wednesday silently nurses a drink as she listens in on the daily gossip from other patrons of the trading post. And they are not friends.

And that is exactly what Wednesday wants.

[ebbing-terror]

So genuinely curious, (love your art btw) is Mahito actually in love with Lynn? Or is the concept of love just very misunderstood with curses in general?

Also, does he just like, hate poor Junpei? Low key hoping they can learn to share (lol)

Looking forward to seeing more! Hope you are well.

《《x☆▪︎¤First off, EEE THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! 🥺🥺🥺💜💜💜 I can't tell you how much it means to me to know people like my stuff!!!▪︎¤☆x》》

And as for the meat and potatoes of the questions there's alot to unpack here! 👀👀👀

Well...It's something Lynn doesn't like to think about alot because she'll just hurt her own feelings with the truth...Since Mahito is the human curse and is born of humanity's fear and hatred towards eachother I don't think he is capable of experiencing true love and I believe that applies to every curse simply because of what they are and what they are manifested from.

HOWEVER-

Lynn is the one human Mahito actually likes and enjoys being around so that counts for something. He is very fond of Lynn in his own twisted way and his connection to her is more akin to obsession and possessiveness and I think that's as close to actual love as he can experience. Mahito finds Lynn funny, entertaining, fascinating and he is attracted to her.

Lynn knows deep down Mahito doesn't really love her...That he can't...But he plays the part and she's good at pretending and that's good enough. There's no question Lynn loves Mahito with all her heart and soul.

I feel the best way to explain it is this quote I repubed some time ago that went something along the lines of "I've Heard of Many Lies, But Your 'I Love You' Will Always Be my Favorite...'

They're in true mutual gross love bc I'm delusional and I say so. Also, in some situation after the Shibuya incident where Mahito's clone escapes with Lynn Mahito is really broken and screwed up after the events of everything so I think it wouldn't be a strech that after such a tramatic incident and having Lynn care for him and nurse him back to health he would finally be able to feel some inkling of real love 🥺🥺🥺

AS FOR JUNPEI -Beats him with stick- Mahito only keeps Junpei alive because Lynn cares about him and he currently finds Junpei mildly amusing. He's a constant snack of negativity, resentment and jealousy and he puts on airs of him and Junpei being best buddies infront of Lynn but in actuality he wants to kill Junpei and the feeling is mutual. (Mahito has loads of fun torturing Junpei as well.) Mahito is determined to make Lynn hate Junpei before killing him but that's an impossible task, meanwhile Junpei is constantly trying to find a way to 'save' Lynn from Mahito and tries to convince her to run away with him. (His efforts fail every time.) Mahito is keeping Junpei alive to toy with him and make him suffer but the end goal is to kill Junpei. (BUT I've been lately toying with ot3 scenarios cause im toxic 👀👀👀 uwu I've even doodled some top secret doodles for it too.)

But thank you so much for your ask, it really made my day!!! If you ever want to know more feel free to send more asks/ dm me! Yapping about these three is my full time job xD

I also hope you're doing well!! 💜💜💜

[writinandcrying]

Sexuality / gender preference (if you aren’t comfortable with labels)

HI OMFG OKAY

This can be any version of the TMNT preferably bayverse or 2007? I don’t mind do your thing fr fr LMAO

straight / I enjoy men / she/her

5’1/gym rat so I’m a lil muscular/usually curly hair but I have braids in right now/glasses/ lots of piercings & a few tattoos :) but we follow each other on ig so idk why I just gave you my physical description LMAO

INTJ :)/im pretty funny if I do say so myself/very independent/sarcastic/I have a weak social battery but depends on which group im with/impulsive

My love language has to be touching or cooking- No in between :,)

Y’all know I love me the 2007 TMNT movie as bad as it is/im going to college to be an English prof :)/my dream job would have to be one of the nicest schools where the area I live in is suburban & I get a fun lil house to myself that I can host parties in >:)

I really love horror games/art/working out/cooking

I think one of my toxic behaviors is that I fall out of love as quick as I go into it, so if someone does something I don’t like it’s sort of a deal breaker for me

Pet peeves: guys that chew with their mouth open/guys that yell to get their point across/uneducated men/Pisces men/guys that aren’t into or against spiritual things like saging rooms or crystals or incense :,)

Deal breakers: if he’s rude to other women or doesn’t respect his parents/doesn’t have an education/is very anti-weed to the point that they’ll break up with someone over it (like bro it’s never that serious)/if he doesn’t take care of himself physically and mentally

How do I usually act: I don’t ever ask for anything, im very independent so I never ask a guy to buy something for me or pay for something :)

HIEEE omg im so excited for this one hehehe

i really need to thought this one through but like..... Jas i need to be 100% serious..... you are 100% perfect for rottmnt leo fr like idk i think you both would have such a nice time together lmao

i match you with..

Leo

Surprise!!!! no but seriously- honestly this could go either Bayverse or 2007, i know rottmnt is extremely different from these two, but like... i can recognize all those personalities being different and still making it work with you! ur a leo girl what can i say lmao

I usually don't focus or comment much or physical appearance, i only ask bc its easier for me to visualize the match up, but since i do know how you look like, how your voice sounds, i can 100% confirm he would be down BAD by first glance (mikey would too, but like its mikey he gets crushes left and right) specially with bayverse, Leo is a an adrenaline junkie, he's too introspective borderline shy to actually voice it, but like..... tattoos, piercings, everything that society would deem as a "rebel" look(? do i make sense i hope so) Leo would be into it. He can deny as much as he wants, but he's into badass looking people idc yall can fight me on this one (this also applies to rottmnt, although i kinda see Rottmnt Leo being a bit... like almost every version of Mikey, he gets crushes easily on a wild range of people, but he most def LOVES when someone knows how to use slangs and has a funky lingo going on, and you DEF have that, he would 100% fall for you ever harder after exchanging a few words with you)

Every Leo version deserves a funny s/o. Bayverse and 2007? they NEED to laugh, a light hearted relationship is perfect for him and i def see that going on with you two (: he loves how you can effortlessly can deliver a punch line when he least expects it, my personal head-canon is that all Leos like to joke around, due being introverted, the oldest sibling and the leader, Leo closes himself a lot around his brothers, the only one chill enough to truly explore that side is Rottmnt Neon Leon, so if he ever decides to test the "imma make you laugh" waters with you, thats a sign he not only trusts you, but wants to impress and deepen your relationship with him

Thank GOD you can cook cuz this man cant LMAO

Leo's Love language is def Quality time, he will need some time to adjust into physical touch as your way of showing appreciation, but soon enough he looks forward to it! loves to mindlessly caress your hand, back, tights when you are hanging out, gives killer massages! likes to hear about your day as you both lie down on his futon and your head is in his lap or your you are both lying down and your legs are above is tights, soon enough he will discover he's actually really into gentle touches, give him time to ge used to it tho cuz he never really considered even having a s/o, so, baby steps regarding physical affection is the way to go!

He's so interested in your major, i shit you not he asks to see your assignments and homework. Leo loves to read, and if college was a possibility for the turtles, i can see him either doing something related to Linguistics, maybe Anthropology (def more focused on Japanese culture) he def likes to dive in those topics and he geeks the f OUT with you regarding your college major

The bumps on the road; 1-he cannot deal with someone impulsive. We all know his relationship with Raph, and we ALL know he can be controlling on his worst days, you both would have to compromise during missions or even daily tasks, he wants to be part of the planing, he wants to know whats going on, but at the same time he cant micromanage you like shit that sucks a LOT. 2- he needs someone steady. he fall in love extremely slow, so for his to work out, he would either have to speed the process up or you to pump the breaks with falling out of love rapidly 3- ..... give him time to be more pro-weed please LMAOOO (although i know this points can be """solved"""with loooads of talking, and thats something nice about your relationship, at certain stage, both of you are completely honest and open about your issues, and both can be understanding of each others limitations and personal growth that shall occur on future)

"if he’s rude to other women or doesn’t respect his parents" Leo gotcha, and honestly? he feels the same, if you cant show respect to the elderly (aka master splinter) wtf you doing?

"guys that aren’t into or against spiritual things like saging rooms or crystals or incense" Leo def knows anything related to Japanese culture and i think he (and mikey.. and Donnie) would be the most open-minded towards new healing / spiritual activites and techniques? although there are different reasons to each one of them; Donnie is bc he's curious about well- everything, Mikey is bc he always wants to try new things and lowkey finds it cool, And with Leo, he wants to be part of your life just like he wants you to be part of his, so please be open towards learning Japanese costumes and he shall participate in your costumes as well.

Loves that you are independent, he likes being there for you don't get me wrong, but.. he's a busy turtle, if you cant handle yourself once in a while, that might be a deal breaker for him. Chivalry is kinda big for him tho, so let him treat you when he can, he likes to woo you sometimes so just let him lol

Ok so i know Raph is like, the gym king or whatever but if you ever briefly mention you would like to use it the one the boys have around the lair, he will "randomly"show up there, Raph will def tease him if he tries to help you out on a machine that you and Raph combined know way more than he ever could lmao. He does asks you if you would like to join him into his training sections at the dojo, he's way more comfortable in there and he swears is not as stinky as their gym after Raph uses it, really looks forward to the day you accept his invitation into teaching you some self defense moves here and there

Ok you didnt mention this like...he loves how you always reply REALLY FAST!! like at first he's taken back cuz? usually april or casey take a few good minutes even hours to respond, humans have their things to do on topside and he gets it you know? he's also relatively busy most days, so when he almost automatically gets a reply from you, Leo def got surprised on the first chats he had with you, he begins to love it how fast you can come back to him with texting, he doesnt have to worry if you are in danger after escorting you to your home, or when you are leaving college, work, yadda yadda, he knows its not extremely healthy to be on your phone 24/7 but when you are away from him, he loves it he can have almost imidiate contact with you

Over-all: Really chill relationship but still has some fire into it??? at the same time?? both of you just gets eachother, and he feels free to show his funny, daring, flirty / teasing self he almost NEVER shows to anyone, so lucky you!

hope you liked it!

match ups are closed for now