#i think art block is slowly getting to me so this looks like shit i apologize

[rudycrowley]

I'm cooking something guys

[lilianne-tarot]

Pick-A-Card: What Makes People Secretly Jealous of You✧˖°.

How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images above. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you, go ahead and read both!

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⋆. 𐙚 ˚ ˚ PILE I

cards pulled: 5 of swords, 4 of swords, page of wands, 6 of swords, knight of swords, 3 of swords

Okay PILE 1, UHM… instantly, you’re giving main character energy in a way that intimidates the sh*t out of people. Like you’re not even trying to be the center of attention, but somehow you always are? You enter a space and people are like, “Who do they think they are?” while also copying your stuff three days later. You walk with a silent type of confidence, very “don’t test me” energy. People sense you’ve had hard times, and even if they don’t know the details, they can feel it. You’ve got this inner toughness that’s kind of scary hot tbh. Your vibe is a whole psychological thriller. Like, folks don’t know whether to admire you, kiss you, or block you for their own emotional safety 😂

You probably learned the HARD way not to overshare. You likely had friendships that ended weirdly, conversations that drained you, people who twisted your words. And now? You’ve mastered the art of being unreadable but piercingly observant. This group is in their “🧠 > 🤡” era( I SAID WHAT I SAID😭) . You don’t argue. You just watch, process, distance yourself, and transform yourself in silence. THIS. This is the part that has people frothing. You’re unbothered. People can literally throw tantrums, shade, or even subtle digs at you, and you’ll be doing your own shit and minding your own mental health. You’re the kind of person who pulls back, protects their peace, and doesn't give people the satisfaction of a reaction. And bestie, THAT is maddening to people who need chaos to feel relevant. You choosing silence? You choosing yourself? You resting instead of people-pleasing? People cannot handle how you don’t chase or cling or overexplain. Your energy says, “If you cross me, I’ll just go leave, idc.” And that’s more threatening than any clapback. Them not feeling worthy enough is what piss them off

Ugh, I love this for you 😭 i sense this is youthful fire. Like, your curiosity, your passion, your spark, it’s infectious. Even when you’re figuring life out, you make it look like an adventure. People wish they had your sense of excitement, your ability to find beauty in the unknown, your passion projects, your spontaneous glow-up moments. You still believe in magic, and you chase it. People see that in you and lowkey get anxious sometimes which in turn leads to anxiety. You remind them of who they used to be or who they wish they were. You’re like their inner child’s inspiration and trigger at the same damn time 😭

 If you ask how this jealousy shows up? Okay bestie, here’s the deal, they LEAVEEE. that's it....Like, people who get too jealous of you will slowly drift, ghost, or distance themselves. And it’s not because you did anything. Nope. It’s literally because your energy is a mirror, you unintentionally expose what they’re running from in themselves. So when someone exits your life out of nowhere? It's not always shade. It’s often that your growth, your self-protection, your refusal to settle… it gets too loud for their comfort. And some of them might even act like you’re "too much" or “hard to connect with” but that’s just projection, babe. They’re mad you're moving on, moving forward, and not looking back.

AND THIS is your sign to stop holding back. You’ve got things to say. Projects to create. Movements to spark. Opinions to express. And the universe is screaming at you to stop playing nice just to make insecure people feel comfy. You’re meant to lead. You’ve got clarity that cuts through the fluff, and people NEED that. You’re not here to be palatable; you’re here to be powerful.

Okay  big hug 🤍 because this tells me your power didn’t come from sunshine and luck, alteast not always. It came from heartbreak, betrayal, disappointment. Like… people don’t get that your confidence is built on grief. You’ve transmuted pain into power. And while they’re busy watching your highlight reel, they have no idea you cried yourself into this version of you. That’s the hidden jealousy no one talks about, how you kept going when others would’ve collapsed. That’s the real intimidation.

 I’m getting an oddly specific message: some people from your past (school friends? old internet mutuals?) STILL stalk you online. Like, they swear they don’t care, but they’re obsessed with the way you keep evolving. I even saw someone in my mind writing a note like “they always bounce back.” LMAO not them studying you😭

Stay sharp, baby. You’re meant to trigger AND inspire 💅🔥

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⋆. 𐙚 ˚ ˚ PILE II

cards pulled: the world, 9 of pentacles, ace of pentacles, ace of wands, queen of wands, 3 of swords

OMG okay wait PILE 2??! Babe… you’re not even walking into rooms, you’re making whole room shift when you show up (okay maybe a little exaggeration but i feel that way so i said it) 💀 but honestly, to me, This pile is aura-too-bright-for-this-world energy. The cards here?? ICONIC.��

So right off the bat, with The World as your “vibe that catches attention instantly,” I audibly gasped. No, seriously ’m seeing someone who’s got that complete package aura. Like… when you walk into a space, people instantly sense that you’ve seen life, evolved, and you’re not here to play. You feel like someone who's been through seasons, leveled up through pain, and came out looking expensive, composed, and unbothered. There’s this whole “I’ve arrived” energy that surrounds you. It's not cocky it’s earned.

And paired with Nine of Pentacles + Ace of Pentacles + Ace of Wands + Queen of Wands, like… WHAT EVEN IS THIS POWER COMBO?? Bestie, you are literally the embodiment of “I’m secured, unshakable” I’m seeing you as someone who might have had to glow up alone. People ditched you during your struggle era.People are so jealous because you make independence look luxurious. And this isn’t fake rich aesthetic energy, it’s like… you actually worked for the stability you have now. Financial glow-up? Check. Confidence glow-up? Check. ENERGY glow-up? Baby, it’s off the charts. For people who havent yet received any of these, just wait lovelies, you are soon reaching that level! You come off as someone who doesn’t need anyone, but also, anyone would kill to be needed by you. your creative spark is lit as hell right now. You probably have 10 ideas swirling in your head at any moment. You’re the kind of person who creates something new out of nothing, and just have oodly specific magnetic quality. People can’t stop watching you like they’re not even sure why they’re drawn to you, but they are. You might post the most random thing on social media and get a hundred saves. It’s THAT type of energy. You intimidate people without trying. You could be in sweats and people are still clocking you like, “Who is THAT?” You walk in like a flame in a room full of plastic candles. I’m not gonna lie some folks deadass want your confidence, your glow, your ability to just own yourself. And they try to copy it, but it doesn’t hit the same because theirs is curated. Yours? Authentic AF.

BUT THEN… BOOM. We get hit with Three of Swords and oof. That changes the whole flavor of this pile. This is the secret ingredient in your power. People don’t realize that the reason you shine so hard now is because you had to crawl through heartbreak, betrayal, rejection, and emotional hell just to find your light again. Like, this is NOT surface-level sadness. This is “I had to rebuild my damn self when everyone left” energy. Your glow comes from grief you survived. Your confidence was carved out of loss. And people feel that even if they don’t consciously get it.

Let’s talk about how this jealousy shows up in behavior. Some people act fake supportive. You’ll notice them almost hyping you up, but it’s giving “I’m clapping, but I’m also watching to see when you fall.” Others might straight up ghost you the moment you succeed at something. Like, why is it crickets when you’re winning?? 😭 Some people are so triggered by your glow-up they pretend they don’t see it. You’ll post something huge and they’ll scroll past like they’re blind, but you know they saw it. Oh, they saw it. They’re LURKING. I’m picking up on past friends or even family members who remember you before you knew your worth, are mostly jealous. They don’t know how to deal with you now that you’ve stepped into your power. Also I’m feeling online strangers too. People who watch you, feel inferior, and try to tear you down in petty ways, shady energy, maybe even copying you to feel closer to your vibe. But it never lands right. Because your essence? It’s not copy-paste.

Babe… you’re not meant to be digestible to everyone. Your energy is big, your aura is blinding, and not everyone has the emotional range to celebrate that. Some people will see your light and clap. Others will squint and get mad that it hurts their eyes. That’s not your problem. The World card is reminding you: you’ve already completed one of the hardest chapters. You don’t need external validation. You ARE the moment. Keep planting those seeds (Ace of Pentacles), chase that inspiration (Ace of Wands), stay in your fiery power (Queen of Wands), and remember you’re glowing because you healed through hell. And that’s the real flex.

People aren't just jealous of what you have. they're haunted by the fact that nothing could break you.

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⋆. 𐙚 ˚ ˚ PILE III

Cards Pulled: ace of cups, 9 of wands, judgement, 10 of cups, the sun

OH BABY. PILE 3??? This one has me emotional chaos in the best way possible, like, I’m laughing, crying, cheering you on, and lowkey feeling jealous myself 😭✨ There’s just something so undeniably rare about your energy, and I’m gonna be real with you, people don’t just notice you… they get emotionally activated by you. 

So right off the bat we open with the Ace of Cups as your “vibe that catches attention instantly.” GIRL. The softness. The emotional depth. The actual divine femininity (this quality is not restricted to one gender, it’s about the energy here) . People sense that your heart is open, your energy is healing, and you’ve got this naturally receptive, magnetic glow that pulls people in like you’re the human version of a warm hug and a deep exhale. You give off big “safe space” energy but also romantic, ethereal, dreamy vibes. It’s like… being around you makes people want to open up, cry, confess their life story and then fall in love with you. You’re that person.

And that’s exactly why the Nine of Wands shows up next because people have no idea how hard you’ve worked to stay this soft. You’ve been through so much emotional wounding, maybe abandonment, betrayal, family drama, heartbreak but instead of turning bitter, you became even more radiant. Bestie, you are literally the definition of a wounded healer. Your boundaries are firm now, but you still love so hard. You protect your peace(AS YOU SHOULD), but you’ve also never lost that softness. THAT is your power. You didn’t get cold. You got clear.

Now here’s the fun part: people are jealous as hell of your emotional fulfillment and the fact that you are so deeply in tune with yourself and others. The Ten of Cups and The Sun together?. This is “I’m manifesting the life of my dreams and I will protect my joy with my whole damn soul” energy. Whether or not you have the full picture yet (some of you may still be building it), people look at you and feel like: “Ugh. They’ve got it all.” The dream relationships. The emotional clarity. That sense of “I know what I want, and I will not settle for less.” That triggers people who feel lost, disconnected, or stuck in superficiality.

THIS is the energy that freaks people out the most. Because it’s the card of awakening. You’re someone who constantly reinvents yourself, levels up, and literally triggers people’s consciousness. Like, someone will meet you and a week later be in an existential crisis just from how your energy reflected back all the places they’re asleep in their own life. You don’t even need to say much, your presence alone forces people to confront their emotional blind spots. It’s that deep.

Let’s talk about how this jealousy actually shows up in behavior, because oh honey, it’s sneaky. Some people will love-bomb you at first. They’ll worship you, obsess over you, and tell you that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to them. But as soon as they realize they can’t match your depth or keep up with your light? Boom. They either ghost you, emotionally shut down, or try to project their pain onto you. Some may even subtly compete with you emotionally, like copying your vibe but making it weirdly performative. Others might act overly critical of your emotions like “you’re too sensitive” or “too idealistic” but deep down? They wish they could feel as deeply and freely as you. I’m picking up on exes, old crushes, emotionally unavailable people, and even spiritually bypassing fake-deep people. They once had access to your love, your softness, your radiance, and now they’re haunted by the fact that they fumbled you. Also, I feel like some parents or authority figures might’ve been emotionally intimidated by how “different” you were growing up. Maybe you felt misunderstood for being so dreamy or sensitive. But look at you now turning your heart into a damn superpower.

Do not water down your light or dim your joy to make others comfortable. The Sun says your happiness is holy. You’re meant to shine, radiate, and live in color, even if that makes other people squint. And Judgement is reminding you: keep rising. Every time you outgrow your old self, people will fall off, and that’s okay. They were never meant to go where you’re headed. Your emotional depth isn’t a weakness. it’s what makes you a fckin force of nature. Keep protecting your peace, pouring love into people who deserve it, and curating a life that feels like poetry. The right ones will meet you there. You’re not just powerful because of your light, you’re powerful because you chose your light after walking through hell. And people will always be a little salty about that.

So go ahead and keep shining, crybaby angel warrior 😭💛 You’ve earned every drop of your joy.

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Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog, it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! If my reading resonated you, you may consider buying my paid reading as it would really help me out financially♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not fixedly predict the future. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[piastriprincess]

fight  so  dirty  (love  so  sweet)  ⸻  yuki  tsunoda  x  reader  .

featuring  yuki  tsunoda  ,  university!au  ,  enemies  to  lovers  ,  forced  proximity word  count 2.7k author’s  note  requested  by  anon  !  this  is  soooooo  late  but  i  hope  you  like  it  .  this  was  supposed  to  come  out  on  sunday  for  yuki’s  birthday  but  i’m  too  much  of  a  perfectionist  and  didn’t  feel  like  i  had  it  quite  right  .  i’m  sorry  yuki  nation  !!  please  forgive  me  </3  as  always  please  come  tell  me  what  you  think  ,  and  (special  secret  heehee)  my  birthday  event  will  be  out  tonight  !  title  is  from  teeth  by  five  seconds  of  summer  .

31:  vanilla  perfume  and  a  kitchen  counter  .

One credit.

That’s all that stands between you and your dreams — cap and gown, popping champagne bottles with your friends, flying off to the city and starting a new life. One stupid, measly, ridiculous credit. 

You’re a planner. You built a summa cum laude career off of your meticulously organized Google calendar and endlessly updated to-do lists. So when your advisor tells you that your perfect plan leaves you one credit short of graduating in your meeting at the beginning of your last semester of college, you could have sworn she was joking, if not for the poorly disguised panic in her voice. 

When you searched for an extra class that would fit into your schedule, there was only one result. Fundamentals of Flavor, the course catalog blinked back at you. Description: An introductory exploration into the science, art, and cultural context of cooking. Students will learn foundational culinary techniques, investigate the building blocks of flavor, and engage in hands-on recipe development. No prior cooking experience required! Just a willingness to try (and occasionally fail deliciously).

RateMyProfessor told you it was an easy A, and several reviews mentioned Professor Alonso’s “good vibes” and his habit of bringing in Spanish desserts for the class every week. So what if you could barely boil water? All things considered, it could be worse. 

That was before you met Yuki Tsunoda.

You show up five minutes early to the first class. It’s early enough to beat the other second-semester seniors taking it for the elective credits, but apparently too late for the culinary arts majors — half of the class is seated already at the various steel prep tables lined up around the room, laughing and joking with each other about souffles and quenelles and other shit you can’t pronounce. You look around the class for a seat that’s close enough to see the board but far enough back to not get called on. There’s one boy sitting alone at a table in the middle, headphones in, dark hair flopping into his eyes. Bingo. You drop your bag at the corner of the prep table, slide onto the stool next to him, pull out your phone and start scrolling through Twitter. 

The boy clears his throat, pulling an AirPod out of his ear. “You can’t sit there.”

For a moment, you don’t realize he’s speaking to you, but when he clears his throat again, you turn to him. Take in the sharp cheekbones, the strong jaw, the dark eyes, something simmering behind them. He’s striking. You blink, slightly dazed. “What do you mean?”

“The seat’s taken,” he snaps, and whatever thoughts you just had about him sour completely, lost in the sharp bite of his words. “I’m saving it for my roommate.” 

Who does this guy think he is? Some arrogant wannabe chef who thinks he owns the prep station? 

“Well, there was no bag there,” you say slowly, saccharine smile on your face. “So I guess you’re not saving it any more.”

His eyes flash, jaw ticks, and you feel a little surge of pride in your stomach at managing to take him down a peg. He’s about to open his mouth to respond when an older man with long hair and a five o’clock shadow is already sweeping towards the front of the room. The boy snaps his mouth shut, sits up a little straighter like it’s someone he’s desperate to impress. 

“Buenos dias, clase,” the man says, clapping his hands together with a wide smile when he reaches the front of the room. “I am Professor Alonso. Welcome to Fundamentals of Flavor. This semester, we will be —”

The door flies open, and a dark-haired boy stumbles into the room, gasping for air like he’s just run all the way across campus. Isack, you think distantly — communications major, your year. French, if you’re remembering right. He probably knows how to pronounce quenelle in his sleep. You watch him scan the room and zero in on your seat partner, mouthing a what the fuck? at him before he takes the only open seat left, a few rows behind the two of you. 

“As I was saying,” Professor Alonso continues in his heavily accented English when you tune back in, “you will be working for the semester with the other chef at your prep table. Get to know each other, work together! Cooking is about collaboration, unexpected ingredients mixing together into something beautiful.” He pauses, eyes glinting with humor. “Also, your grade depends on it.”

“Perfect,” your seat partner mutters under his breath, and you roll your eyes. 

“Let’s get cooking!” Professor Alonso says with the maniacal cheerfulness of those professors lucky enough to get tenure, and claps his hands once. The room erupts into chaos: conversation and laughter, the hiss of burners and the clang of pans.

You turn to the boy next to you, introduce yourself, and he scoffs at you. Actually scoffs. You didn’t know people really did that. 

“Last chance to switch,” he challenges you, quirking an eyebrow petulantly. You’d probably think it was cute if you didn’t already want to punch it off his face.

“No, no. No switching, Yuki!” Professor Alonso calls from the front of the room, and the boy — Yuki — flushes. “Fate brought the two of you together. You will make an exciting pair, I can see it.”

Fate, as it turns out, has a pretty nasty sense of humor. You’re not sure if it’s the general chaos of second semester or the mutual loathing, but somehow, you and Yuki Tsunoda become the disaster duo of Fundamentals of Flavor. 

The first week, when you’re supposed to sweat the garlic, you and Yuki start bickering, and the aromatics burn so badly that the entire room has to be aired out. In week three, you’re so distracted by an argument about whether to preheat the oven to 350° or 375° that you put salt instead of sugar into the Basque cheesecake batter. The week after that, he nearly throws a pan at you when you ask if he needs a booster seat to reach the spices for your curry. 

Despite the passive-aggressive sniping in both English and Japanese and the absolute disasters you’ve created, you’re barely scraping by thanks to Yuki’s actual talent. You’ve learned he’s basically the star of the culinary arts department, a Michelin chef in the making, and he’s somehow managed to salvage every kitchen catastrophe into a semi-passable dish. 

It still doesn’t seem to impress Professor Alonso though, who mostly just sighs and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like ay dios mío under his breath every time he passes your table. If cooking is about collaboration, as he said on the first day, you and Yuki are oil and water. Actually, you’re baking soda and vinegar — chemically opposite, volatile, destined for an explosive reaction. 

That reaction happens on a rainy Thursday afternoon.

“I said stir slowly,” Yuki grumbles, hovering over your shoulder as you attempt to reduce a mushroom sauce. 

“I am stirring slowly,” you retort, not looking at him. If you do, the wooden spoon in your hand might fly dangerously close to his temples.

“No, you’re not. That’s aggressive stirring. That’s I-don’t-know-what-I’m-doing stirring.”

You glance at the clock. Fifteen minutes left, and then it’ll be the weekend, and you can spend it not thinking about Yuki Tsunoda and his impossible attitude. Deep breath in. “Do you just want to do it?”

“Actually, I don’t want to keep fixing your fuck-ups, but I guess I have to,” he says, annoyingly smug, and you just snap, setting the spoon down a little too hard and whirling around to face him.

“God, you are so —” you cut yourself off as quickly as you can, because you can see the delight in his eyes that he’s gotten under your skin, and you hate it. 

“Short-tempered?” he supplies, like he’s trying to be helpful, with the most infuriating little smile on his face. 

You smirk, and it’s venom off your lips. “I was going to keep it at short.”

His cheeks color with furious heat, and the look in his eyes — Well. You’re glad that there are several witnesses around who can prevent him from taking one of the chef’s knives gleaming above you and running you through with it. “You’re impossible.”

“I aim to please,” you sing, turning back to the pan to check it. The sauce is catching at the bottom, flecking the creamy white with ugly brown specks. Probably because you didn’t stir it for five minutes while you were arguing with your partner.  

“You aim like shit,” he says flatly, jaw tightening as he minces shallots like he has a personal vendetta against them. “And don’t wear that perfume next time. It messes with everyone’s sense of smell. It’s distracting.”

You blink, pulse doing something strange under your skin. “It’s vanilla. It’s barely there.”

“It’s not barely anything,” he snaps. “You’re making a savory sauce and it’s going to taste like a Bath and Body Works threw up in it.”

You turn to him, giving him a withering glare as he bastes a filet with butter. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware Professor Alonso died and made you the head chef.”

He looks back at you, eyes sharp. “I’m trying to get us a decent grade. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

Your spoon clatters against the edge of the pan, forgotten. “You know I need the credits. You’re not the only person here who cares about passing the class,” you say, seething as you take a step closer to him. 

He steps up to you, like he’s been waiting for the challenge. His chest rises and falls, too fast, and you can feel the heat radiating off him. “You treat it like a joke.”

“I treat you like a joke,” you bite, voice low and hot. “There’s a difference.”

“At least I don’t —” he starts, but the smell hits you before he finishes. Acrid. Sharp. You both turn at the same time to look at what you already know will be there: a scalded duxelles cream sauce and a completely, irreparably charred filet. 

Professor Alonso is already walking over, arms crossed and brows furrowed. “I leave you two alone for fifteen minutes, and you manage to set French cuisine back a decade?” 

Yuki fidgets beside you under his gaze, and Professor Alonso shakes his head. When he speaks next, his voice is softer. “I’m disappointed in you both. Come in tomorrow to fix this. I’ll open the prep kitchen for you. Stay for as long as it takes.”

There goes your weekend. 

When you get there the next day, the kitchen is quieter than you’ve ever heard it. No chatter, no Alonso, just the soft hum of the fridges, the buzz of the overhead fluorescent lighting, and the clang of metal when you drop your bag next to the prep table with a little more force than necessary.

“Glad you finally showed up,” Yuki says without looking up. His sleeves are rolled up as he lays out the ingredients, dark fabric against pale forearms, and you hate yourself for noticing. 

“I was literally one minute late,” you retort, stepping around him to the sink. As you wash your hands, you stare longingly out the window. It’s a beautiful day, and you can spot classmates on the lawn outside, soaking up that late-spring sun in their final weeks on campus. And instead of joining them, you’re stuck in a test kitchen with an ill-tempered chef whose personal mission is apparently to make your life miserable. 

You step back into your spot, reach for the mushrooms, but Yuki’s grabbing them first. 

“I was going to cut those,” you say flatly. 

“I noticed,” he replies, chopping at the vegetables with surgical precision. “But you messed up the mince last time. They were soggy. That’s why the sauce didn’t work.”

“Oh my god, are you still blaming me for yesterday?” you say, breathless. 

“Pretty sure someone burnt —”

“I didn’t mean to, asshole! You’re the one who started an argument with me over nothing.”

“Well, you were wearing that stupid perfume again and I couldn’t think about anything else!” he snaps, and you stop cold. 

“What did you just say?” you say slowly, taking him in. There’s color high in his cheeks and his eyes are bright with an expression you’ve never seen before. Your stomach flips traitorously at the sight.

Yuki’s jaw tightens, like he wishes he could snatch the words out of the air. “The perfume,” he bites out, dropping the knife on the cutting board. “It’s been driving me crazy since the first day of class.”

You blink. “You’re blaming your inability to treat me like a decent human being on my perfume?”

“It gets in my head,” he snaps, and suddenly he’s in front of you, heat radiating off his body in the narrow space. “Every time you walk in, it’s all I smell. Vanilla and heat, and it fills up the whole fucking room, and — it distracts me. I can’t think. I can’t cook. I can barely breathe.” 

He smells like citrus and steel, his chest is heaving, and he’s looking at you like he wants to throttle you or kiss you, you’re not sure which. The tension between the two of you coils like steam off boiling water. “Sounds like you’re a little obsessed with me, Tsunoda,” you murmur, the ghost of a smug smile on your lips.

“Oh, you drive me fucking insane,” Yuki spits, voice hoarse, and then he’s surging forward, his mouth crashing into yours. 

The kiss is a shock of heat and mouth and hands, teeth clashing and feverish touch and irritation melting into want. Your hand fists into the hair at the nape of his neck, and he groans, short and frustrated, like he wasn’t expecting to like this so much. 

“You’re such an asshole,” you breathe against his mouth, as he backs you up into the counter. “Can’t just kiss me to shut me up.” His fingers dig into your hips hard enough to leave bruises, lifting you onto the counter. You gasp against his lips at the feeling of the cool metal on your bare legs, and he takes the opportunity to slot his tongue into your mouth, and honestly this all shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

He ignores your retort, settling in between your legs. “Taste so sweet,” he mumbles against your lips, trailing his mouth down your neck. His teeth graze the line of your jaw, and you try to keep things under control, you really do, but your body betrays you and you let out a whimper. The smile on his face at the sound makes your skin prickle. “Like vanilla. Knew you would.”

Your fingers curl around his collar, pulling him back up to eye level as you wrap your legs around his waist. “This doesn’t mean I like you,” you say breathlessly as you search his face, cheeks flushed and eyes wild. 

“Good,” he growls, pushing closer, closer to you, like he’ll die if every part of his body isn’t pressed to yours. “Because I can’t stand you.”

And yet — when you pull him in again, grabbing his face and kissing him like you’ve been waiting for it all semester — you can feel his smile against your lips. 

The dish gets stunning marks when you present it at the next class. Professor Alonso can’t stop raving about it, complimenting the creativity of the spice you’d added and the balance of the ingredients against each other, working in unexpected harmony. 

Yuki doesn’t smile. But when he bumps his knee against yours under the table, brushing his fingers over the spot on your wrist where you’d dabbed extra perfume earlier, you don’t pull away.

[sunflowerwinds]

stick ‘n poke | e.w

summary: it’s the first day of the campers arriving and you have a discussion with ellie about tattoos. during the supervised session of the campers doing arts & crafts, she mentions that she knows how to stick ‘n poke and you take her up on the offer. late night tattooing and exposing questions ensue.

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

contains: even more flirty!ellie, oblivious!reader, needles and slight bleeding so tw for that, steve being a himbo ally.

word count: 3.6K

a/n: maybe i love this series. comments & reblogs are much much appreciated lovelies <33

under the summer stars masterlist

The first day of the children arriving was more than hectic. More of the staff came the day after everyone else had arrived like the chefs and security for the grounds. Now, the seven camp counselors, including you, stood in a row outside of the main office on the opposite side waiting for the children to come out one by one to sign in with their parents. You recognized a few familiar parents and children but there were always new faces which you loved to see.

Ellie stood on your left while Steve was on your right. The group wore white baseball short-sleeve shirts in blue, green, and red blocking with block letters reading ‘STAFF’ on the back those coordinating colors. You thought they were insanely cute compared to the years before; it was strictly neon but Dina and you begged for something less bright and more flattering.

Thankfully, Tommy, Joel’s brother, and owner of the campgrounds, heard the complaints and had the dress code changed. You forgot every year how exhausting it was trying to reassure sketchy or overprotective parents that their children are safe and are never going to be alone. Etc. You could never blame them considering what people hear a lot about summer camps: specifically slasher-type movies based around the isolation of camps.

There were a lot of kids you recognized from the summers prior, making sure to let them know it, especially the ones that recognized you first.

Once the early crowd came by and huddled into your cafeteria for a complimentary lunch before the parents headed off home, you finally were able to take a breath, turning to the auburn-haired girl with a smile.

“Jesus, I always forget how overstimulating that is. How many parents asked if I was thoroughly CPR trained?” You exasperated to which Ellie threw her arm over your clothed shoulders, tugging you in for a moment.

“Trust me, I get it. Almost every parent asks if I’m even allowed to work here because of my tattoos.” Ellie rolled her eyes and held her arm up to you, turning her wrist from side to side to show you the tattoo. “Like do they think I’m gonna just grab their kid and shove a needle into them?”

You simply chuckle, resting your head on hers. Her thumb rubbed at your shoulder through the fabric causing you to slowly close your eyes with a hum. Every touch from her felt like a stress relief.

“Definitely. They saw tattoos and thought ‘she can definitely do a stick and poke on my child.’” You hum.

“You don’t have any tattoos right?” Ellie questions as her hand moves from your shoulder to your upper back.

You shake your head with a disapproving sigh, trying not to think about how her thumb was now massaging into your tense upper muscles. What the hell was she doing? Trying to send you into a coma?

“I do want some though. They’re just expensive as hell,” you lowered your voice which Ellie hummed in agreement.

“Well, I’m sure when you do you’ll look even better than you already do,” Elise raised her eyebrows at you with a cheeky smirk.

You shrugged her arm off your shoulder and shook your head.

“Shut up,” was the only argument you could come up with as you felt flustered at her comment.

Ellie merely chuckled and held her hands out in defense. “What? You want me to lie and say you’ll look like shit?”

“I didn’t say that, Els,” you look around as she openly cusses without thinking, hoping none of the helicopter parents heard her.

Before Ellie could retort something back, the two of you heard Joel calling the whole group of counselors over. You give her a pointed look before she playfully pushes you along as you walk, making you giggle like an idiot. When you get to where Joel is standing, Ellie’s hand lingers on the middle of your back as he speaks to the entire group.

You couldn’t believe how touchy she was being. Not that you were complaining but you swore years prior she had never been as lingering with her touches with you.

“After everyone is done in the cafeteria, gather your groups so that y’all can go to the cabins and help them unpack. After that, take them to the arts cabin to make their name tags for their bunks and tie-dye their shirts for next Wednesday for the field trip to the Botanical Garden,” Joel reads off his see-through red clipboard.

The group nods as they agree to the set schedule for the day. Once every single parent had said tearful ‘goodbyes’ and ‘love you’s’, your friends began to round up their troopers for their cabin. This was arguably one of your favorite parts of camp; getting to know these adorable children.

One by one, each of the counselors called the names of all 12 of the campers for their assigned cabins. You introduced yourself to the children, smiling at them kindly in hopes they would become comfortable with you. Some of them were more shy than others but that’s usually the case.

“Okay guys, you’re just going to follow me to the cabin where everyone will put your bags down before we head on over to the art cabin. If you have any questions, any at all, do not be afraid to ask me, okay?” You look at the wide-eyed and curious faces before they all agree to your statement.

You reluctantly had to walk away from Ellie and made your way to the cabin, checking to make sure every child was accounted for once you arrived. After about half an hour passed where you explained the basic rules for camp to all the kids, you gathered them to make their way over to the art cabin.

You felt more at ease when you entered the much larger cabin to see the rest of your friend group already having the kids make the name tags. Your campers dispersed once you gave them the ‘okay’ to go and color.

Ellie gradually made her way over to where you were standing, watching over the kids to make sure they weren’t drawing anything inappropriate on their name tags. Her shoulder bumped your own, a brazen grin on her face. Your brows set in a furrow at her fidgety manner.

“What’s up, Els?” You question, turning to her.

“I may or may not have gotten stuff to do stick and pokes,” she lowered her voice, making eye contact with you.

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head at her words. The children were thankfully distracted by the rest of your friends to even listen to what you two were talking about.

“Where the hell did you get the materials for a stick and poke?” You asked in disbelief.

“Gave Tommy 50 bucks to go and get everything from the grocery store down the street.” Ellie shrugged nonchalantly.

You couldn’t believe your ears.

“I could give you one, you know. Free of charge, of course, since it’s your first one.” Ellie added on which really spiked your attention.

The offer was tempting if you were being completely honest with yourself. It wasn’t as if Ellie was a terrible artist; she actually had a bit of talent in that department. She was pretty much the only person here you would trust to do such a thing. On the more selfish side, you could be alone with Ellie.

“Miss Ellie! I need help!” A young boy shouted from across the room.

“Alright, buddy. I’ll be right there,” she called back before turning to you to point a finger in your direction. “Think about it, okay?”

You nod slowly. “I will.”

Content with your response, Ellie jogged over to the boy who had gotten the glue on his face. You internally freak out as your eyes dart around the room. All of your campers were doodling away, chatting amongst each other while you were having a crisis.

You had zoned out so bad, that you didn’t even realize that Steve was now standing next to you.

“Oh, Steve, hi.” You greeted him with a small smile.

“Hey, um,” he cleared his throat, hands clasped behind his back, “I don’t want to seem nosy but is there something going on between you and Ellie?”

You snap your neck before shaking your head furiously, a weird chuckle leaving your lips.

“No! No, absolutely not.” You persisted.

“Okay,” Steve trailed off, “you… like her, though, right?”

You looked at Ellie who was leaning over all of the kids' drawings, commenting on how all of them were ‘sick’ or ‘cool’. It was undeniable.

“Yeah, why?” You raised your brows at him.

“Damn. I owe Robs 20 bucks.” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. You mouth ‘what?’ to yourself before Steve continued with: “She thought you just liked her and hadn’t told her yet and I thought you two were screwing in secret.”

“And you placed a 20-dollar bet on that?” You narrowed your eyes.

“Yeah,” Steve said ashamedly. “Robin went on and on about how ‘not everyone is hooking up just because I do’ and how ‘it’s different because it’s two girls’. I understand that but it doesn't mean, you know, two consenting adult women can’t be hooking up too.”

You blink at the flawless-haired man, listening to him ramble. Robin and he had very valid points.

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyways because I’m never going to tell her,” you added, shrugging your shoulders as you scanned over the area to see if any of your campers needed help.

This time Steve whipped his head to stare at you.

“Why not?”

“Uh, because I could humiliate myself and lose her as a friend. I know our relationship wouldn’t be the same if I did,” you explained with a long sigh. “She’s not making it any easier either. She asked me if I wanted her to give me a stick and poke tonight.”

Steve whistled playfully before you bumped his shoulder. He scoffed at your annoyed expression before putting his hand up in defense.

“I’m just saying if I know flirting,” he leaned down to mutter to you, “and I think I do, she wants you just as badly as you want her. My personal opinion is to go for it.”

You shake your head at his words but don’t necessarily push the thought away. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Robin and Abby whispering amongst each other. Robin glanced over to where you and Steve were standing before nudging the taller woman.

“You know what’s going on over there?” You lean into Steve with furrowed brows.

“No clue but I think I gotta go. One of my kids just shoved a googly eye up his nose.” Steve patted a hand on your shoulder before speed-walking over to this table full of campers.

To your surprise, none of your children had spoken up once. You jinxed yourself almost immediately as a little girl with dark coily hair pulled into two ponytails raised her hand and waved it around to get your attention.

You make your way over to her, leaning over to lean over her small shoulder.

“Hi, Vanessa. What did you need help on, sweetheart?” You tilt your head and look at her name tag.

“Oh. No, I didn’t need any help. I have a question though,” Vanessa turned in her chair, looking up at you.

“What is it?”

“Are you and Mr. Steve boyfriend-girlfriend?” She pointed her little finger in the direction of Steve tilting the child’s head back to see if he could get the googly eye out.

You awkwardly laughed at her question, scratching underneath your jaw. Kids, from what you’ve learned working at this summer camp, are extremely nosy and have zero filter with their questions. You remember just last summer when a little boy asked you what were the dots on your face: you were breaking out the first week. He was talking about your acne.

“Uh, no. Mr.Steve and I are good friends.” You said slowly. “Boys and girls can be just friends, you know?”

“Oh, well, he’s super cute,” she giggled as she covered her mouth like it was a secret.

The girl had taste but you just didn’t swing that way. You didn’t know what else to say but thankfully, Abby shouted over the conversations to turn in your name tags to their designated counselors so that they could get started on the tie-dye shirts.

You retrieve the hard stock paper from all twelve of your campers before tucking them underneath your clipboard.

“When your group is called, carefully walk up to the front table to grab a white shirt. If you need help picking out a size, ask for help from any of the counselors.” Abby grinned before making her way over to you.

You turn to her with a small smile, nodding your head over to her group of children.

“You doing okay with your kids?” You question, tilting your head up at her.

“Yeah, they’re not too bad but I give it a few days before they start pulling pranks on us.” Abby sighs with a shrug.

You nod sadly, knowing how truly creative these children can get when it comes to pranking. You still can’t stand the smell of a bubble bath.

“Well, you promised to help me prank Ellie so you’re really one to talk,” you raised your brows at her with a soft chuckle.

Abby couldn’t even say anything to you as you were right.

“I meant that, too. I got a few ideas for her.”

A part of you tried to ignore the quite obvious disliking Abby held for Ellie. Her tone triggered you from the first day and their little tense bicker.

“I will, Abs.”

Abby simply smiled before patting your shoulder with her own clipboard. You rolled your eyes playfully as she walked away from you. You catch Robin’s eye and she avoids your gaze almost immediately.

Weird.

“You sure this is safe?” You question for probably the tenth time that night as Ellie dipped the needle into the little plastic cup of ink.

Ellie let out a soft chuckle at your antsiness, reaching over to place a hand on your fidgeting one. You, after a lot of second-guessing, made your way to the cabin next door, making sure to only knock on the counselors’ side to not wake up the children. Every single voice in your head was telling you that you were betraying your one goal you had for this summer but your heart was telling you to spend as much time alone with her as possible.

Your mental and emotional state often collided with one another.

Now here you were in your oversized gray tee and a pair of green pajama shorts that had white shamrocks on them, sitting on her springy mattress as she dipped the disinfected needle into the tattoo ink. Ellie had on her signature black wife pleaser and a pair of boxer-briefs, one singular black glove on her right hand. The dim yellow of the lamp on the small desk was the only source of light in the small room.

“It’ll be okay. Now, it will sting a little bit because, well, it’s ink going into your skin but let me know if you need a break.” Ellie gave you a heads up, scooting in closer to you on her swivel barstool. “You said you just wanted a sun with a swirl in the middle?”

You nod as you watch her place a hand on your knee to steady your shakiness. You were nervous but excited for doing something like this. Outside of the camp, you weren’t someone who left their house often unless it was to eat, for school or when one of your three friends invited you out which you declined most of the time.

“Can we talk about something so that I don’t move a lot and fuck it up?” You nervously chuckle.

Ellie sucked in a deep breath as she began to poke the needle into your skin, causing you to scrunch up your nose at the pain.

“How about you tell me about life back at home? Just tell me everything, you know.” Ellie looked up for a second to give you a reassuring smile.

You mutter a soft ‘okay’ as you close your eyes, gripping onto the thin sheets on the bed.

“I don’t really do much. It’s not that I don’t get opportunities to. I just never have the courage to do a lot in my life so that gives me a lot of free time to read romances even though they make me feel extremely lonely. It’s annoying but I guess I kind of did that to myself,” you sucked in a deep breath when the pressure grew stronger on your upper thigh.

“You’re doing good,” Ellie whispered as she dipped the needle back into the ink cup. Her thumb was gently rubbing underneath the skin where she was placing the tattoo.

Great. Now you’re getting aroused and you’re in pain. A dangerous combination.

“Um, oh, I tried dragon fruit and kiwi for the first time last week. It was in a really big fruit bowl with melon, strawberry, mango, green grapes and pineapple.” You blurt out as you remember how delicious the refreshing bowl was.

“Very summer-y,” Ellie hummed with a cheeky smile as she was finishing up the spiral in the middle.

“I thought so,” you hum, sucking in a deep breath as she wiped a disinfectant wipe over the finished swirl portion to clean up some of the dots of ink and blood resting on your skin.

Ellie sat upright to stretch out her hunched over position, looking at you with a gentle smile. You weakly smiled back as you looked at the swirl, tempted to ask her to just finish there but that would mean going back to your cabin which you really didn’t want to do.

“How’s it looking?” Ellie cleared her throat, twiddling the makeshift ink pen around her fingers.

“It’s so clean. How did you do that?” You ask in genuine shock.

Ellie sheepishly shrugged her shoulders as she scratched at the space behind her ear. You let yourself take a few breaths as you brace yourself for the last bit of the tattoo.

“Okay, I’m good now,” you grin as your hand finds itself gripping onto the sheets once again.

Ellie nodded at your ‘okay’ but her eyes locked on your tight-knuckled hand. She clears her throat before motioning to her knee that was pressing into the metal bed frame.

“You can… put your hand on my knee. Just so you don’t screw up my sheets,” she teases as her eyes flicker to her exposed knee.

You hesitantly release the nylon sheets before carefully placing your hand down on her protruding bone. You held back every urge to rub your thumb on her pale skin just as she had been doing to you this entire time. You did, however, feel the little pricks of hairs that Ellie missed on her knee. You weren’t going to judge her, of course. It was comforting knowing how human she was.

“Is there anyone special back home?” Ellie hummed as she dotted the sunbeams.

Your eyes bulged out of your head. How fucking ironic the girl you had been head over heels for is asking you this question.

“Uh, no, not back home,” you shake your head at her question.

You weren’t technically lying. There was nothing waiting for you at home other than your dads.

“So you don’t have feelings for… anyone at all?” Ellie sounded almost nervous asking you the question.

Suddenly your palm grew hot and sweaty at the on-the-nose question. You could lie and say ‘no’ but your lack of immediate response captured Ellie’s attention. Ellie’s eyes flickered up to you with a shit-eating grin on her pink lips.

“I-I don’t.” You accidentally stutter, making you want to wring your neck right then and there.

“You’re a shit liar,” Ellie scoffed as she wiped off the excess blood and ink. “Who is it?”

“No one. Seriously don’t start,” you let out a strained chuckle.

“Why did you get so tense all of a sudden then?” Ellie quipped.

Well part of it has to do with the fact that I would give anything to have your tongue down my throat, you thought to yourself.

“Nothing. It’s no one and nothing, Els.” You shake your head before motioning to your tattoo. “Aren’t you supposed to be tattooing not being nosy?”

Ellie shook her head with a raise of her eyebrows. “So it is someone?”

You mutter an ‘oh my god’ to yourself before she continues to speak. “If it was really no one, you wouldn’t have called me nosy. I’m just saying.”

God, her sarcastic tone both irritated and comforted you.

“I don’t know. Abby is pretty… cool and sweet.” You blubber out, your word vomit causing your head to ache.

Ellie’s features dropped for a moment at the name. You even felt a nerve in her knee twitch. Why did you say Abby of all people? She pursed her lips before going back to the task at hand.

“Abby?” Ellie hummed. “Really?”

No.

“Yeah. What’s wrong with Abby?” You question the freckled girl, eyes flickering to her furrowed brows.

Ellie sucked in a deep breath, shaking her head. You wanted to scoff at her reaction but you simply kept your hand on her knee, allowing her to finish what she started.

“What about…you?” You carefully ask.

“What about me?” Ellie raised her brows.

You sigh. “Do you have anyone special?”

Ellie’s soft green eyes followed up your body to your lips before shaking her head, dismissive of your question.

“No one you know of.”

This needle is digging into your skin and your blood is seeping to the surface but Ellie’s words hurt the most tonight.

tag-list: @abbyshands @ih8chickentenders @elliesprettygirl @justhereforinspopics @be3flow3r @hearts4joongie @plutolovesyou @bready101 @joanvisitsrome @elliewilliamssrealgf @hysteriawillnotsuccumb @shady-lemur @melanie-watermelon @elliescoolerwife @ucannotcompare @sakiigami @shalalala-sana @joordynn @ummlover @thisiscarlatrying

[iloveundertaesooomuch]

!!THIS IS NOT CALEB!!

This is my version of the FTF Grimwalker that got possessed by Belos and then was resurected on GrimIsles!

His name is Cheese! ...Bear with me here-

His grimwalker siblings let him to choose his own name, because they didn't want to force something so important onto him. Especially when this "newcomer" was lucky enough to not be named by Belos. So the freedom of choice felt pretty important to consider for his ability to built his own identity and carve his own destiny.

But.. Cheese was litteraly "born yesterday" and he didnt understand the language yet. At all. So, of course, when he started to learn some words, he chose to identify himself with something he really really likes. And.. this thing he related to happened to be a block of yellow dairy product with holes in it and a funny taste. He is too much of a cheese lover.

Later on he often "changed his name" from Cheese to Onion to Gerald to Boot to Nike... Uhhh..., it was difficult to say the least. But the name Cheese stuck with others, so now it is how he is called. Although many end up pronouncing it as "Chez", which is valid too.

As you can see on my art, Cheese doesn't have his legs rotting like the body in the s3 ep2. Thats because it was part of his "mortal wound". In otherwords, Chez wouldn't be able to live with parts damaged like that. Usually all that left after the person's "mortal wound" after the resurection in the temple is a small light scar. But, even if Cheese got his body fully in tact now, the bottom part of his body nonetheless seems to be paralised. Thats why he requires a wheelchair to move around the Isles. (I wont deny the possibility of him getting a jetpack or something like that so he could move thought the air on his "loyal carriage". Imagine that vine video but with Cheese. He would be very enthusiastic about creating and building shit like that.) Chez also happens to be mute due to his damaged throat and vocal chords also from Belos'es possession. Thats why he has that little oracle stone on his hair-clip that helps him speak his thoughts out loud! He wasn't always able to use it, so he was also taught how to use sign language. His siblings were glad to learn it along with Cheese so they could finally chat.

I was initially imagining Cheese to be enthusiastic about sports. Especially since the grimwalker body in FTF looked quite buff weirdly enough XD. But he slowly grows to be much more than "CHEESE IS SPEED". Perharps our discovery of him as a character reflects his own journey of getting to know himself. Chez came to be as a blank slate. I guess he is technocally the happiest grimwalker in this AU, since he never experience any kind of abuse and has a loving family that treats him with respect even if he doesn't understand everything yet.

It was my first time drawing a wheelchair I think. So I really heavily referenced just to get its structure right. Maybe when I draw Chez again I will decorate it to his liking. He would probably enjoy some stickers on it. Especially of space and ships. Or Cheese could have a Starwars (or however that franchise is called in TOH universe) merch on it! He likes spaces, because it is full of infinite possibilities.

Thank you, @crypticpara and @talisman975 for inspiration!

[mizzstromalarkey]

Mizzstro’s Memory

-Balan Wonderworld Oneshot-

-

“Run that by me one more time.”

Mizzstro’s words are tense. His short fur stands on end, a glistening platinum white under the stage lights of the otherwise dark theatre.

Balan exhales and gathers himself.

���As Wonderworld’s maestro, it is my role to conduct the memories of inhabitants so that they may rekindle balance within their hearts—“

“Right. Less poise, Balan. I don’t know who you’re trying to impress here.”

“—erm…but…without a proper stage, I’ve yet been able to draw your memories forth…”

Balan then gestures to the stage Mizzstro is lounging back on.

“…That is, until now. I have an idea. A work-around, if you will. Provided you would let me try.” Balan’s wide grin then softens. “I will not force you to do this, Mizzstro, but… you should consider my help.”

The jester beast hunches over his lap with a long sigh. He brushes his claws through the messy bangs of parted fur around his mask. He doesn’t look at Balan.

“You know how I feel about someone digging around in there.”

The maestro’s brow furrows.

“I’m only conducting your memories—guiding you through so I can help determine what ails your heart. I can see them, I suppose, but you will be the star of your own show.”

“Psh, you think I don’t know why I’m like this? I’m the conductor of psycho-analyzing myself, Bal.”

Colorful gem drops appear around him. Mizzstro simply pushes them aside with his tail. The annoying things always get in the way. Balan stiffens at the sight.

“I know you’re hurting, Mizzstro. I can—“

“You can what? Watch from the background as I relive all the shitty things that’ve happened to me?” Mizzstro’s claws dig into the floorboards. “If my issues were as simple as…as getting over a fear of dolphins, or just having goddamn art block then don’t you think I would have told you by now?”

Balan huffs like the beast struck a chord. “You would have never told me regardless because you fear being vulnerable with others.”

“Well, look who’s breaking out their Masters in Psychology. Should I pay that $75 cash or card?”

“Do you use this witty persona to deflect all the negativity surrounding you?”

Mizzstro chokes on his words. In one swift movement he tears into a frustrated shout, flicks his tail with a charge, then teleports across the stage. The green flash blinks through the theatre’s shifting main room. For a moment, rows and rows of empty seats stare back at Mizzstro. He searches the darkness for their lingering image.

With an uneasy sigh, Mizzstro strolls to the edge of the stage then slumps down against the wall.

“…don’t forget to add my recklessly charming personality to the analysis as well, doc.”

Mizzstro chuckles. Balan doesn’t react, much to the jester’s awkward disappointment.

He looks so small, Balan realizes, crouched against the wall with his knees now tucked tightly against him. He grips himself so hard his claws dig into the fur of his upper arms. His tail curls around his ankles, the sharp star tip still poised to strike.

Balan approaches anyway, though gingerly, floating over to little beast. Mizzstro flicks his tail at Balan’s presence but doesn’t stop him from planting down on the floor beside him.

“Putting on the jester hat, hell, the whole mask…and being everyone’s favorite little shithead…sometimes that’s easier. I can control that.”

Mizzstro hurries to wipe the moisture building in his eyes.

“You’re asking me to process things I’m still trying to understand. I’m not even human anymore, Balan.”

Mizzstro’s words hang between them.

“So, I’d rather put back on the costume cause that’s the only way I can get through this shit, even if it hurts just as bad.”

Balan tenses but finds himself nodding slowly.

“I’m glad you trusted me enough to share this, Mizzstro.”

He squirms at Balan’s words but can’t hide a small grin curling.

“Yeah, well… don’t get used to it. Just give me my heart piece therapy badge and I’ll be on my way.”

Balan searches the jester beast’s face. Mizzstro finally turns to look at him, even if just slightly.

“What?”

“Your heart is still imbalanced and missing, I fear. Do you trust me enough to let me help you?”

Balan reaches out for a moment to comfort him before pausing. Mizzstro flinches at the approach—Balan recoiling. Mizzstro shifts and stares back to the ground, his otherwise lively lilac and green eyes glazed over. His tail taps at the ground.

“It’s not…it’s not that I don’t. I just don’t have much of a choice.”

“Without your heart rebalanced, Mizzstro, you may never leave Wonderworld—“

The beast tenses, “—you think I don’t know that, Bal?”

“Please, allow me to help you…” The maestro’s voice strains with desperation, a rare falter of his grace. “I owe it to you to try.”

Mizzstro wipes his eyes again. He can’t cry in front of Balan, not like this.

“If you knew what you were looking for in my head, then you wouldn’t be asking to go digging. You won’t… you won’t see me the same after. I’m not the same.”

Balan floats to the ground.

“I…regret…that Wonderworld has taken your humanity from you.”

Mizzstro stares off, muttering, “Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be the first…”

Balan sinks. Negativity radiates from the false maestro, even as just a glimpse behind the mask.

“The pain you’re in is too much for you to handle alone. If you truly want to leave, let me help you in the best way I know how. I won’t give up trying,” Balan slowly offers his hand out to Mizzstro, “and I won’t let anyone else hurt you.”

Mizzstro’s ears droop. He looks up at Balan’s hand, then to the maestro himself.

“Even if you vandalize the theatre and terrorize Wonderworld,” Balan chuckles. He gives an awkward shrug.

A small smile creeps across the jester’s mask, but its warmth is real. Uncurling himself, he exhales a long, loud sigh, and grabs hold of Balan’s offered hand.

“You’re frustratingly good at this shit, you know that?” Mizzstro chuckles. “Alright. Show me whatever therapy parlor trick you wanna try now.”

[flowersandskeletons526]

"Put Your Gloves Up" - Warriors Concept Album fanfic (part 7/?)

More flirting, more Mercy mention, more dyke drama. Enjoy!

Previous chapter

---------

Ajax leaned against the wall beside Rembrandt’s in-progress painting. She held Rembrandt’s sketchbook, flicking through the pages while Rembrandt focused on her paint cans and the mural slowly coming into shape through the layers. When anyone else held her sketchbook, Rembrandt had always been extremely strict on “I showed you this page so do not go looking at other pages” but with Ajax, she honestly didn’t mind it. She liked Ajax’s ghost of a smile and Ajax kept her thumb on the sketch Rembrandt needed to see when she asked, so she didn’t mind it.��

“So,” Ajax said as Rembrandt began blocking out a human silhouette. “What’s up with the mask?”

“I don’t want to be blowing rainbow snot for the next week,” Rembrandt said simply. “Also don’t want to get high off the fumes and shit.”

Ajax raised an eyebrow. “Should I have a mask?”

“I think you’re fine. You don’t have your face in the middle of it like I do.”

“Fair enough.” Ajax flipped through the sketchbook, pausing to brush her fingers over a page. “Hey, I got a question.”

Rembrandt paused. She dropped her can and glanced at Ajax out of the corner of her eye. “Tell me what drawing you’re looking at first.”

“Swan’s portrait.”

“Which one?” Rembrandt asked. Ajax held up the sketchbook to show her. It was Swan, asleep, her face calm and untroubled, drawn in dark monochromatic blues with a golden sunbeam falling across one eye. Rembrandt smirked, a little sadly. That was meant to be a present, but she never finished it. She turned back to the mural. “What’s your question?”

“How did you fall in with Swan?”

Rembrandt chuckled to herself. “God, we were in third grade, I think? Maybe fourth. I was already an easy target for bullies and she was the new kid in class so we just… started sitting together. She was already a fighter even when we were kids so she had my back. Even the times she was in juvie, she somehow found a way to watch out for me. Then we met Fox in middle school and she started tagging along and it was just the three of us for a long time before Swan dropped out and started living with Cleon.”

“Aw, childhood best friends. That’s cute.” 

“I guess?” Rembrandt laughed. “How did you fall in with Cochise?”

“Met her through Cleon. I used to be kind of a punk-”

“Used to be?” Rembrandt teased.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Ajax deadpanned. “Anyway, I used to cause some trouble around the neighborhood and Cleon decided she could turn that energy into something more constructive and helped me out. I have her to thank for almost everything.” 

“Yeah. Me too. I’d only met her twice when she offered me a bed at her place. If it weren’t for her, I don’t know where I’d be right now.” Rembrandt paused. “If it weren’t for you, I’d probably be dead.”

Ajax shrugged. “You looked like you needed a little help.” 

“What were you even doing out that night?”

“Just wandering. I do that when I can’t sleep sometimes. Cleon taught me. Can’t sleep, take a walk. About to lose my temper, take a walk. If I can’t remove myself, take three deep breaths. That’s part of the reason she asked Cochise to get me security work. Physical activity helps emotional issues, I guess. It’s better than Cochise’s talk therapy,” she laughed. 

“Cochise does therapy?” 

“It’s stuff she learned from a veterans support group.” 

“Oh, yeah. I forgot she was in the military.”

“Combat medic. Girl’s seen some shit.” Ajax turned another page in the sketchbook. “These are really good.”

“Thanks.”

“They’re like the stuff you see in the MET.”

“Okay, now you’re exaggerating.” 

“No, I mean it. How’d you get into the art stuff, anyway?”

Rembrandt shrugged one shoulder. “I always liked to draw. When I was a kid, I had this art teacher who gave me supplies she was gonna throw away. Broken crayons, stubs of colored pencils, shit like that. I bought what I could and stole what I couldn’t, Swan helped me get supplies, and then I started really looking at the graffiti around the city and got some spray paints and…” Rembrandt stepped back from the mural and pulled off her mask. “Now I do this.” 

Ajax pushed herself off the wall, coming to stand beside Rembrandt. Sprayed across the wall was a faceless figure in a bright hoodie and mask, backdropped by a melting technicolor city; what Rembrandt assumed one might see if they dropped a shit ton of acid and stood on the very top of the Brooklyn Bridge. It was admittedly almost a self portrait, down to the shredded sleeves and the worn out Converse. Ajax whistled and crossed her arms as Rembrandt grabbed a skinny capped black spray paint can. In the bottom corner of the mural, she quickly scrawled her artist’s tag. 

Ajax cocked her head to the side. “Why do you sign it?”

“So other artists know to back the fuck off my turf,” Rembrandt said with a smirk, earning her a cackle from Ajax.

“Yeah, definitely good you’re running with Cleon now.” She peeked at her phone screen. “It’s still early. You got any other plans?”

“Honestly, I should get back. Cleon doesn’t exactly know that I’m gone.” 

“Thought you said she and Swanie were in the Bronx until morning.”

“I don’t want to push it.”

“That’s fair. C’mon, I’ll walk you.” 

The trip back to Cleon’s apartment was filled with light, easy conversation. That was the thing about Ajax: it was so easy to talk to her. The conversations came naturally, and Rembrandt had never been one for talking but with Ajax she couldn’t seem to stop. As they walked, Rembrandt pointed out painted storefronts she’d been paid to decorate, and Ajax complimented them every time. Rembrandt had heard everything she said a hundred times before, but it felt different coming from her. It felt more real. Everything felt more real with her.

They walked slowly, anything to draw out the night. When they finally reached the apartment, they lingered on the stoop, Rembrandt fiddling with her keys as she leaned against the wall next to the door. 

“Thanks for coming out with me tonight,” she said quietly. “It’s been awhile since I got the chance to put up a new mural. Without, y’know, getting my ass kicked.”

“Any time. I liked watching you work.” With one hand in her jacket pocket, Ajax braced her forearm above Rembrandt’s head and leaned over her. Rembrandt completely short circuited. “You’re really talented. I can tell you’re gonna go somewhere with it. Somewhere better than Coney.”

Rembrandt grinned and chuckled, hoping she didn’t sound too nervous as she tried to keep her eyes off Ajax’s face, dangerously close to hers. “Where could be better than Coney?”

Ajax smiled. “That’s true. For real, though. You’re gonna make it big.”

“Thanks.” Rembrandt took a deep breath. “Um, would you want to do this again, maybe? I seen one of those graffiti removal vans kinda lurking around so I’m gonna have a lot more open spots pretty soon.” 

“Yeah. Lemme know when you get another free night.” 

“Are you gonna be okay walking home by yourself?”

“Pssh. I’m the toughest motherfucker in Coney Island,” Ajax said with pride, and then more sincerely, “I’m not too far from here. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Ajax.”

“Night, Rembrandt. I’ll see you.” 

“Yeah. See you.” 

Cleon and Swan were still out, luckily. Rembrandt dropped her backpack just inside her bedroom door and collapsed into bed. She laid on her back, pressing a hand over her racing heart, willing it to slow down. She laughed a little to herself, unsure of how to feel, what to think, how to bring herself off this high. 

Ajax was so close. She could have reached up and-

Rembrandt shot upright. “Nope!” she hollered to the empty room. “No! I am not thinking about that!” 

Liar.

The next morning, Rembrandt met Fox outside her apartment. The first thing the younger girl said was, “How was your date with Ajax?”

Rembrandt shoved her. “It was not a date.” 

“It sounded like a date.” 

“It wasn’t.” 

“Swan’s gonna freak if she finds out.”

“It’s not Swan’s business.” 

Fox stopped dead in her tracks. “Who are you and what have you done with Rembrandt?” 

“Huh?”

“Since when is anything you do not Swan’s business?”

“I’m grown and she’s not my girlfriend. I can talk to whoever I want.”

“But you two have always been-”

“Fox.” Rembrandt grabbed her shoulders. “I’m not dating Ajax. And it’s not Swan’s business. Got it?”

Fox grumbled uncomfortably but nodded anyway. 

At the gym that afternoon, Rembrandt tried to forgive herself for the way she immediately looked for Ajax. She spotted her near the back office, talking to a man Cochise would later tell her was the gym’s owner. Rembrandt went to meet with Cochise and left Ajax to her work. She couldn’t deny she was a little sad they didn’t get the chance to talk in person that day, but she reminded herself that this was in fact Ajax’s job and Rembrandt couldn’t always have her undivided attention. Not that she was looking for Ajax’s undivided attention, anyway. Not usually.

A few days passed before Cleon and Swan went out for the night again. Rembrandt had Ajax on the phone almost immediately, and within minutes they were walking through the dark, cold streets together, hands brushing as they went but never fully interlocked, the smiles never leaving their faces. Ajax kept her head on a swivel, which Rembrandt appreciated, eyes darting to every out of place sound. 

If there was any chance of danger, Ajax had it handled. She made that very clear. It made Rembrandt feel safer than she had in years. 

This went on for a few weeks. Swan was gone so often that Rembrandt began running out of real mural plans and just went out to touch up old paintings with Ajax, sometimes multiple nights in a row. She learned a lot about the brawler in those weeks.

Ajax loved music and wanted to be a drummer as a child but settled on collecting vintage cassette tapes.

Ajax was “sorta” afraid of heights.

Ajax thought upstate was pretty but would miss the noise of the city if she ever left.

Ajax was deeply secretive of her past and changed the subject whenever conversation veered towards it. 

Rembrandt felt… better, the more time she spent with Ajax. Lighter. Happier. To the point where Fox and Cowgirl commented on it and Swan let up on her protectiveness just a little, like she thought Rembrandt was in a better place to handle herself. Which she was. 

And then Ajax wasn’t at the gym one day. Or the next. Or the day after that. Rembrandt texted her the second day asking if she was alright, and she promised she was. She gave the excuse that she’d “worked too many hours” and the owner asked her to take a few days off work. Rembrandt wasn’t sure how much she believed that.

The night she finally got to see her again was the night she finally had to ask Cleon for permission to leave, because this time, only Swan was going out. 

Swan was going out in her nicest clothes for the night. To Manhattan. Alone. 

To meet up with that fucking chick from the Bronx.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay?” Rembrandt badgered as Swan finished getting ready. “Where are you even going?”

“We’re just going to a club in the Village. My phone is fully charged and I’ve got money to get home. I’ll be fine, Rem, you can quit acting like she’s some kind of axe murderer.”

Hypocrite, Rembrandt thought as she followed her to the door. “She threw a bottle at your head when you first met.”

“She has a point, Swan,” Cleon called from the couch.

“Thanks for the support,” Swan deadpanned. “Rem, really, you can chill out. I’ll be home before three AM.”

“Two,” said Cleon.

“Cleon!”

“Fine. Two-thirty.”

Swan rolled her eyes as Rembrandt stifled a laugh. She pulled her into a quick hug, grabbing her keys from the hook beside the door. “I’ll text you when I’m on the train home. Get some sleep.”

“Have fun,” Rembrandt forced out. She prayed she didn’t sound as awful as she felt about this. 

She went to her room and flopped face first onto the bed. Like every other time, she gave it a minute before texting Ajax, enough to make sure Swan was well out of Coney Island. Like every other time, Ajax said she’d be there in ten. Rembrandt gathered all her courage, shouldered her backpack, and stepped out into the living room. 

Cleon glanced up at her as she stood at the edge of the couch. “Are you going to make sure Swan doesn’t get axe murdered?” the older woman joked, keeping her tone light. Because Cleon wasn’t worried. If she were worried, she wouldn’t have let Swan go.

“No, I… I wanted to know if it would be okay with you if I went out to work on a mural,” Rembrandt said. 

“You’re an adult. You don’t have to ask for my permission.”

“I’m covering my ass. Swan will lose it if I don’t let somewhere know where I am. She still thinks I’m gonna get jumped if I go out on my own at night.”

“Are you gonna be on your own?”

“No.” She shoved her hands in her pockets in an effort to stop fidgeting. “I’m going with Ajax.”

That gave Cleon pause. She raised her eyebrows. “Does Swan know that?”

“Swan doesn’t like Ajax.”

She made a face. “That’s fair. Yeah, I don’t mind. You have my number. Call me if there’s any trouble.”

Rembrandt grinned, her shoulders sagging with relief. “Thanks, Cleon.”

“Oh, wait.” Cleon stood as Rembrandt grabbed her boots. She lowered her voice. “You know that Ajax… works with me, right?”

Her smile faded. “Yeah?”

“And you know what I do?”

“What happened?”

“Just don’t freak out when you see her.” 

Rembrandt thought that was a weird warning until she was outside and finally saw Ajax for the first time in three days. “Don’t freak out” was apparently Cleon’s way of saying “she got the shit kicked out of her.” Ajax had a black eye and a badly busted lip, still healing, and one of her canines had the sharp tip chipped off. Rembrandt couldn’t see her hands, but she could imagine what they looked like: bruised to the wrist, split open and bloodied, should be bandaged but probably weren’t because Ajax flaunted injuries like war paint. 

Ajax raised her hands as Rembrandt ran over to her, and the artist got enough of a glimpse to know she was right. “I’m okay,” was the first thing to come out of her mouth. 

“Did you get hit by a train or something?” Rembrandt cried, panic rising in her chest. 

“I had to handle some business. It’s chill. I won.” 

“How many people did you fight?” 

“Not enough to beat me,” Ajax laughed. She spun and made a show of flexing. “See? Totally fine.”

Rembrandt couldn’t help but smile. “Dork.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She slung an arm over Rembrandt’s shoulders, an easy, friendly gesture, but one she hadn’t done before and one that sent Rembrandt’s mind into a spiral. “So, what are you working on tonight?”

“Just touch-ups.”

I just wanted to see you.

“I didn’t think Cleon had business tonight. Did you sneak out?”

“Cleon gave me permission.”

“And Swan?”

“She’s out with some girl.”

The night was normal, as far as their nights went. Some dickhead had scrawled a crappy tag over one of Rembrandt’s paintings. It didn’t take her long to cover it, but she moved slower than normal, not wanting to speed through and possibly cut her time with Ajax short. The more selfless part of her thought Ajax really wasn’t in any shape to be out. She caught the little hitch in her breath, the way she favored one leg and tried to keep weight off it. But every time she opened her mouth to ask, Ajax was quick to say, “I’m okay.” Like she could read her mind. 

The night was normal until Rembrandt stopped to X out the same tag that had marred her painting. A car revved around the corner. Ajax touched her shoulder, suddenly stone still as she looked in the direction of the sound. And then the lights flashed and the sirens blared and Ajax grabbed Rembrandt by the hand and shouted, “Cops!”

They bolted. Rembrandt knew Coney Island like the back of her hand, but Ajax apparently had a completely different map laid out in her mind. She led Rembrandt down side streets she hadn’t noticed, through backyards with low fences, weaving through an abandoned construction site as the cop car gave chase. Rembrandt counted them lucky that it was only one car. Usually they didn’t send out reinforcements for vandals but you never knew. 

Finally, Ajax pulled her through a broken panel in the fence around an empty lot. They tucked themselves into a corner, staying low as the police sirens passed and faded into the distance. They locked eyes when the sound finally disappeared. They burst out laughing. 

Ajax leaned back against the fence, holding her ribs. “Fuck! That was close.”

“Yeah,” Rembrandt chuckled. “How did you know all those spots to go through?”

“I’ve spent a lot of time running from the cops.” Turning to Rembrandt, she flashed a wolfish grin. “You want a drink?”

Which was how Rembrandt ended up sitting on the stoop of a condemned building with Ajax, sufficiently drunk, passing a cigarette and a bottle of gin back and forth. Cleon was right; gin was disgusting, but it made her feel warm in the cold night. She rested her head on Ajax’s shoulder as they talked. Ajax planted a hand behind her and leaned closer. 

“I really appreciate you coming out with me,” Rembrandt mumbled around the cigarette. “It’s a lot easier not having to look over my shoulder every two seconds.”

“I like seeing you paint. It’s cool.” Ajax took a long sip of gin. “Y’know, you could go to school for it. Make good money,” she suggested.

Rembrandt scoffed. “Maybe if I win the lottery.”

“Don’t they have scholarships and shit?” 

“Yeah, merit scholarships, for people with good grades. It’s not enough to cover a whole four years. My best chance is selling a few paintings that go for way more after I die and some historian writing a half-assed biography about me. Ugh, it’s fucking cliche, man!” she cried drunkenly. She leaned back on the stoop, barely registering the discomfort of the edge of the steps digging into her back. “Like, come on! Scrawny little kid, Mom’s gone, Dad hits me, I get bullied at school and turn to art as a coping mechanism. Seriously! It’s the backstory of every famous artist that gets a documentary made about them after they kick it. I’m just another ACS failure.”

Ajax chuckled, a little sadly. “You and me both.”

Rembrandt turned to look at her. “You? Really?”

“Father wasn’t around. Mommy dearest had a very hands-on approach to parenting, like your dad, and the people she let come around me were…” Ajax squirmed uncomfortably. “They weren’t very nice. Let’s leave it at that. I couldn’t just sit around and wait to get bigger than them so I learned how to fight back instead. Had to run eventually. Dropped out of school. I stayed with a cousin until he said he couldn’t deal with me and kicked me out. Just did odd jobs and maybe some less than legal stuff to make it through until I met Cleon and she helped me find an apartment, introduced me to Cochise, got me that job at the gym.”

Ajax took a deep, stuttering breath and looked away so Rembrandt couldn’t see her face. Rembrandt put a hand on her shoulder. She reached up to hold it there. It occurred to Rembrandt that this was the first crack in the facade she’d seen so far. No anger, no fight, no cockiness, Ajax was just… hurting.

“I know why Swan told you I was trouble. I don’t blame her for it. I know I probably could have turned out better.”

“I think you turned out good.”

Ajax looked down at Rembrandt. She sat up and suddenly found herself very, very close to Ajax’s face, gazing deep into those dark eyes now glassy with tears. She squeezed Ajax’s arm, feeling her muscle tense, and the sounds of the city faded away and all she could hear was Ajax’s shaky breathing and her own heartbeat hammering in her ears. She shifted closer to Ajax. She started to speak.

Ajax turned away and stood up suddenly only to fall right back on her ass. The moment broke as she held a hand to her head and started laughing. “Motherfucker!” she exclaimed. “I am way more drunk than I thought I was.”

Rembrandt giggled. “Me, too,” she said, and before she could think, continued, “I really don’t want to go home. Swan’s probably back by now and she’s gonna fucking kill me if I show up this out of it. She doesn’t even know I went out tonight.”

“Can’t blame her for being so protective over you.” Ajax dragged a hand down her face. She opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “Want to stay at my place? It’s just me and it’s not far from here.”

Rembrandt hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Why not?” Ajax said with a shrug. “You take the bed. I’ll take the couch. Deal with Swan’s wrath when you’re not plastered.”

“Yeah, when I’m hungover instead. Sure.” Rembrandt stood and offered a hand to help Ajax up, snickering as Ajax stumbled just a little bit. “You’re really drunk.”

“No shit,” Ajax laughed. She reached out, and Rembrandt instinctively moved against her side, putting an arm around her waist and letting the brawler lean on her. “Alright, uh… that way.”

“You sure you know the way back to your apartment? ’Cause if you get us lost-”

“I won’t, I won’t. Promise.”

The walk to Ajax’s apartment took far longer than it probably should have, with them stumbling and laughing the whole way. Ajax fumbled with her keys and dropped them twice before finally getting into the apartment. The pair haphazardly kicked off their shoes by the door, and Ajax gave Rembrandt a quick tour around the space. It was small and a little messy but no worse than Rembrandt’s room.

Ajax leaned against the wall next to the bedroom door. “This is it. The door locks, if you want it locked. I’ll be right out here if you need anything.”

Rembrandt was drunk and depressed and she honestly just wanted to stay with Ajax and suddenly she found herself leaning forward to rest her forehead against Ajax’s chest. “Will you lay with me?” she whispered. She had no idea what she was saying or why she couldn’t shut up but she just kept talking. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“I, uh, y-yeah. Yeah, I’ll stay.”

“Thank you.”

They laid down together fully clothed. Rembrandt curled up against Ajax’s chest, and Ajax pulled her close without hesitation, strong arms holding her tight. She felt the brawler relax against her, sighing as if an entire life’s worth of tension drained from her body in that one breath. Rembrandt slung an arm over her waist and gripped the back of her shirt to cuddle even closer, their legs intertwining as they melted into each other. 

As Rembrandt drifted off, she had a final drunken, fleeting thought. 

I could get used to this.

[a-coelacanth-makes-stuff]

Maybe some QPR Nezha hcs? If you son't mind ofc :>

Ofc!! Sorry I've not been on too much, I've been so busy with school, and autism and art block go brrr (I love Nezha btw and I assume you mean LMK Nezha and just general QPR hcs so-)

🪷 - My boy's idea of spending time together is 100% just watching shows and snuggling cus he really needs it. No talking, just watching cartoon ponies dance around the screen. Or shit like House MD or DateLine. He's not too picky.

🪷 - He 100% would have to be dragged out to do anything other than that, but he always enjoys it in the end

🪷 - He genuinely does like going out, he just needs that push of "yes, time to go outside, don't worry" cus, well, a lot of conditioning from his dad.

🪷 - Once he's comfortable, his autism REALLY shows and for him, letting himself unmask is a sign of trust and comfort! It takes time but slowly he'll start doing little dances, shaking hands, tip-toe-dance, and occasionally chirps, too! Most of his stims are quiet partly so his dad wouldn't tell him to "act like a prince" and make him feel bad, and partly cus he's just quiet.

🪷 - If ya'll are any close, you'll know his favorite tea is leamongrass, and that's the best way to calm him down if needed, and he'll memorize your favorite tea and snacks!

🪷 - He has a pile of squishmallows(or cannon equivalent) that he WILL tell the names of each one and you HAVE to memorize them cus at least half of them are scented and he likes different smells at different times and if he's sick or tired and doesn't wanna get up, it's your job to get em.

🪷 - if you were sick or sad, he'd put on your favorite show, brew some tea(if his tremors where mild enough) and bring some of his squishmallows he knows you'd like! He's taking them back, you're not keeping any of them, no matter how big the puppy eyes are.

🪷 - methinks he'd like mechanical stuff, specifically trucks, busses, and taxis(drawing from how he's become a professional driver protector of sorts as of late!) so he'd probs infodump about it, or even fix any vehicle you use if it broke down!

🪷 - Shopping trips that end with at least one new plushie and maybe a swing by Hot Topic or sumthin for Nezha, and stuff for you as well. Nezha would have money, I know he would !!

🪷 - I think he'd be like one of those suburban dream moms in the pool, like, just chilling on a float with sunglasses and a sunhat and a drink in one hand and a one piece on. He would bite if you tipped him over(if you didn't get away)

🪷 - can't stop thinking of him curled up like a cat when going to bed but looking like a ballerina in the morning. if ya'll had a sleepover or sum, someone is going to be on the floor, planned or not.

🪷 - 100% a regressor, usually 5-7 ish, occasionally lower, and LOVES when you play with his plushies with him. It's like a little girl "Ms Peppy, I'm sorry, but I am betrothed, to a man!" "But Ms Violet, why?" "My father wants me to.." "Can you not run away with me?" "But... my mother, I am hoping for an inheritance to take care of her!" kinda stuff

That's all I can think of rn, hope you enjoy!

[laughterlust]

I Am Enough.

Some personal reflection below the cut.

❌🔞MINORS AND NO AGE IN PROFILE DNI. This is a NSFW blog, you will be blocked on sight. (More DNIs in Pinned post.)🔞❌

I'm ngl. I had a bad mental come-apart over the past week. Had a relative get pissed at me and tear me a new one and make me backtrack so hard on all my mental health and self-worth progress from the past few years that it sent me into a spiraling meltdown that I'm still fighting to recover from.

I'm not gonna sugarcoat. I feel totally aimless in life. I have no career goals, and I don't really care to have any. I don't really have any Big Aspirations for the future, except maybe to travel and eventually meet someone I can trust to be intimate with. But according to society, not having a Five Year Plan makes me a dead-beat. A failure. I look around me and all of my friends, regardless of whether they feel the same way, at least have some sort of plan in motion for the future. They've come so far in so many ways. They've been braver and more proactive than me in so many ways. I've been stagnant for so long that the stillwater I'm wallowing in has slowly started to poison me.

I miss the days where I was (mostly) content working a 9-5 retail job and coming home to relax on my porch and draw what I wanted to draw without ruminating so much. Then 2020 happened. I fell apart. Then I had an epiphany and felt great at the start at 2022. Then bad shit happened that year too. I fell apart. Then I crawled back out and came to my senses. Then that job drove me to a breaking point. I found myself at rock bottom again. Then I got into a job that felt like a blessing and a safe haven. Realized it pays like shit in the winter and now I'm in the hole financially.

It's only now that I realize life is just like Getting Over It with Bennett Foddy. Or the Sisyphus myth.

I keep beating myself up over the fact that I haven't "done enough" with my life. But in reality, I know that what I'm shaming myself for is not doing enough that other people would approve of. People like my mom and her rich entitled side of the family. People who attribute their self-worth to their accomplishments. People who think being an artist is a waste of time.

I know there are habits I do need to change in order to get back on track with accomplishing my goals, even if it's just a little bit at a time. I'm trying to wean myself off of edibles, for one thing. That shit eats up so much of my time; time that I spend doing absolutely nothing but goofing off, zoning out, word-barfing ideas that I then proceed to never do anything with. I've gotten stuck in Doomscrolling hell on Youtube and Instagram. I'll catch myself scrolling shorts for an hour or longer. Time I could be using to make art, watch a movie, take a nice walk, anything. I've started therapy for the first time in many years, and it actually seems promising. I've finally started dipping my toe into dating sites again. This one is going to take me the longest to commit myself to, but I'm not tucking my tail and running from it again.

I've always told myself that if I'm able to change even one person's life for the better, I'll feel like I've accomplished something worthwhile. Well somewhere along the lines, I seem to have forgotten that single driving force. I'm so worried about the future that I forget to look back and appreciate what I have done, both for myself and for other people. To this day I still have people showing me love for the art and writing I've put out there over the years. That means so much to me, and it hurts that I get so caught up in my own negativity that I become blind to peoples' sincerity. And I'm so, so sorry for that.

I want to be better. I want to be enough.

I am enough.

[radama-zard]

Dungeons & Drabbles 2023

Day 2 - Step

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

FCG & Ashton - ModernHuman AU

Steps.

Why did it always have to be steps?

What was wrong with a nice, accessible ramp? They were easier for everyone, nobody had to fear tripping down or up them, parents with strollers could get inside, injured folk didn't have to struggle… and Fresh Cut Grass could have a little of his independence back, being able to wheel themself in with their wheelchair.

But of course life was hardly ever that kind.

A tired sigh slipped past their lips as he stared up at the flight of stairs, blocking them from the sweet little cafe they’d been oh so excited to try out. A customer, Jester, they thought, had been raving about the cupcakes here, and knowing the woman to be a real pastry connoisseur, Fresh Cut Grass had near instantly wanted to get a few themself.

But that dream seemed so cruelly out of reach now.

“Man, you’d think fucker’s would have caught on by now. Shit like this doesn't fly these days! Fancy new chairs and tables, but the owner can't be assed to make their business accessible. Bastard!”

Oh how they startled, jolting in such a way that almost had Fresh Cut Grass and their chair veering dangerously close to toppling. A solid, scarred hand steadied them, letting his frantically beating heart finally come to a rest.

“Fuck! Didn't mean to scare ya like that. My bad. You alright?”

“Y-Yeah! You just gave me a right startling, is all. I'm a-okay!”

“That's a relief. I’d feel like crap if I’d sent your heart packin’ or something…”

Did… Did the stranger look guilty? Well, that just wouldn't do at all! After all, a stranger was just a friend you hadn't met, and the last thing Fresh Cut Grass ever wished to see was a friend all sad and down in the dumps!

“It's fine, really! I spook real easy, my friend Imogen says I’d jump at my own shadow if I ever forgot it was there! But you're not scary yourself. I like your purple hair, and the eyeliner! Oh, and your cane too! Did you decorate it yourself? It looks fun-spooky!”

The stranger stared down at them, slowly blinking as their one good eye focused down on Fresh Cut Grass, taking in everything from their chunky cerulean blue box braids and round, thick glasses, to their bright yellow sweater and mismatched fingerless gloves. In contrast to their own ragged leather vest, covered in hand stitched patches and badges, deep red plaid pants and spiked belts, topped off with boots so hefty they looked able to smash someone’s head in… Well, they couldn't look more different.

Yet Fresh Cut Grass still smiled up at them, all warm and welcoming and so completely genuine that it seemed to catch them off guard.

“Most people would just flip me off and tell me to get fucked,” they muttered, leaning heavily upon their cane before shrugging and sticking a hand in their pocket, seemingly relaxing. “I didn't decorate this shit myself. A friend did. She’s one hell of a spooky ass bitch. Real arts and crafty. But anyway. I’m Ashton. Ashton Greymoore. You?"

“Oh, right! Introductions! Smiley Day to ya, Ashton, I’m Fresh Cut Grass!”

There was a beat of silence, more than a tad awkward, as Fresh Cut Grass awaited their response. Likely a laugh or a roll of the eyes or maybe even a sneer! Most people were funny about names when they weren't the most normal.

Not Ashton though.

No. He grinned, wide and bright and just shimmering with absolute delight.

“That's one hell of a name. You picked it yourself?”

“I did! It's my favorite smell. Ya don't think it's… weird?”

“Oh no, it's weird. But, I mean, fuck, have you looked at me? I like weird,” Ashton grinned wider, throwing one last glance at the inaccessible cafe as something shifted once more in his demeanor. “I know a place a few blocks from here. Unlike these fuckers, they actually give a fuck about people like us. Wanna join me there, Grass?”

“... Do they do cupcakes?” Fresh Cut Grass asked, their mind already made up before Ashton even had a chance to answer.

“Freshly baked in house. So… You coming?”

“I’d love t’ join ya! Thank ya kindly, Ashton!”

Their laughter in turn was rough and harsh, yet the warmth it held settled deep within Fresh Cut Grass’ tired bones… and within moments, he couldn't even quite remember why they’d been upset at all.

[conconpasta]

In short, I will try to create a new acc here again. But ngl the idea of a new blog getting deleted is scaring me. I will start it slowly, maybe that will help.

There are a lot of people who follow me for whatever reason, but not my art it seems. I started to hate people who likes only reblogs I make.

I have no idea what to do with people I've blocked. If I create a new blog, they may think the blog got deleted. Wait, but one of my posts was rebloged, and they couldn't like it (if they wanted to ofc). 🤦 But who knows, maybe none of them liked it,, but they saw it. There's nothing wait there's something weird but not weird to the point people would be disappointed.

I don't know how the algorithm works here at all. On Instagram, you can clearly see when your account (?) is finished. And you can see how good you will do there after ± 3 posts. I have no idea how it works here. I've heard multiple times that it's more about reblogs, but even my posts with 1/3 reblogs in them suddenly stop promoting. And even if it's about reblogs, I have seen posts with lots of notes. And reblogs played a really minor part in the post. Maybe that's because the fandom is popular and stuff, I don't know.

When creating a new blog, I don't want to start it with gijinkas. I want to gather people by posting things, that are more likely to be paid attention to and to be loved by others. For example, in Hollow Knight fandom their in-game looks are more valuable for obvious reasons. I perfectly understand why people are not quite interested in someone's gijinkas, as it is more about being interested in the artist as a person I think. When you really like what they are doing. But if it's gijinkas of a random person, no one will pay attention to the post.

I have no desire to stay with this blog. There are too many unpleasant things about it.

If I start over, there will be no NSFW, there will be no signs of it as well. I've got something better to "show myself" anyway, so I want to make the blog for everyone for sure. I think I will upload some F&H × HK content there as well. Yes, at this point there will be lots of content on poipiku that can see only one person (and God knows if they really do give a shit(do or don't I have no idea, but at this point it is really just my place, which makes me feel much more comfortable there.)), but I don't really want to share my art anyway, as this whole time period just made me complex about my art and behavior more.

If I create a new blog, I will "organize" the "dead" audience.

I'm sorry for the big text. Thanks for your attention, if paid.

[detective-inspector-her]

Incorrect Quotes Based Of This Au Because I'm Finally Writing About It -_-

Darquesse: I am strong! I beat Skulduggery at arm wrestling! Valkyrie: Anyone can beat Skulduggery at arm wrestling! Skulduggery: Hey-

Skulduggery: Met a dumbass today. Awful. Darquesse: You looked in a mirror? Skulduggery: Someday you will have to answer for your actions and god may not be so merciful.

Skulduggery: Why don’t you go talk to them? Valkyrie, sarcastically: Oh. Yeah, sure. Skulduggery: What? So you go tell them they’re cute, what’s the worst that could happen? Valkyrie: They could hear me.

Valkyrie: Can we talk? One 10 to another? Darquesse: I’m an 11, but continue.

Darquesse: What is your favourite mythical story? Skulduggery: The Story Of My Will To Live. Darquesse: I don’t think I’ve heard of that one before.

Skulduggery: Valkyrie, you’re in charge! Darquesse: Valkyrie, can we start a fire?

Darquesse: All of your existences are confusing. Valkyrie and Skulduggery: How so? Darquesse: Your presence is annoying, but the thought of anything bad happening to any of you upsets me.

Darquesse: Well, you know what they say: Can’t bake a pie without losing a dozen men!

Valkyrie: Darquesse, this morning, I called you abhorrent and reprehensible, and I’d like to withdraw that statement- Darquesse: Aww, thanks- Valkyrie: But I can't. Those are the 2 words that best describe you.

Skulduggery: Nothing feels better than winning Monopoly. Not love, not sex, not free pizza, nothing! Valkyrie: I’m sorry, have you tried pizza? Skulduggery (Has Valkyrie's Tastebuds): Yes, and it doesn’t compare to owning half the board and watching the light die from your friend’s eyes as you take their money and feel your friendship slowly deteriorate. Darquesse: I like you.

Darquesse: Okay, I’m going to get the wedding cake. Valkyrie: Perfect, while you do that I’ll check on the ring bear. Darquesse: … Darquesse: You mean ring bearER, right? Valkyrie: … Darquesse: Look me in the eyes and tell me you are not going to bring a dangerous wild animal to Tanith and Ghastly's wedding.

Valkyrie: God has let me live another day and I'm going to make it everyone's problem.

Skulduggery: Darquesse is a perfect cinnamon scone who’s never done anything wrong in her entire life! Valkyrie: Never done anything wrong?! She set a city block on FIRE!

Valkyrie: Go big or go home! Skulduggery: Please, for once in your life just go home. I'm begging you. Go. Home. Valkyrie: I'm going big!

Skulduggery: I’m not mad, I just need to know why you two had a fake ID. Valkyrie: Incoherent mumbling Skulduggery: Huh? Darquesse: …You need to be 18 to hold the puppies at PetCo.

Darquesse: Have you done this before? Valkyrie: Well, Darquesse, it's like if you read the script you come better prepared. Skulduggery: That's not what they do in the US, they don't read things. Darquesse: I don't read, Valkyrie. Valkyrie: You're Irish!?

Skulduggery: I am free of all prejudice. I hate everyone equally.

Valkyrie: You know what I asked Santa for Christmas this year? Skulduggery: If you say me, I swear I’ll— Valkyrie: You? What? No, I asked him for that cool Ninjago Lego set we saw in Target!

Valkyrie: English is CRAZY. Oregano is both a spaghetti leaf topping and a form of paper art! Skulduggery: What is this "paper art" you speak of? Valkyrie: That shit where you make cranes and stuff out of folded paper! Skulduggery: … Valkyrie.

Valkyrie: Nice rock. Skulduggery: Thanks, Darquesse gave it to me. Darquesse: I threw it at you! Skulduggery: Isn't she the sweetest?

Darquesse: I dropped Valkyrie. Skulduggery: Darquesse, what the fuck.

Skulduggery: If you want my advice- Valkyrie: No offense but you’re the last person I want relationship advice from. You tried to kill your significant other. Multiple times. Skulduggery: First off, that was before we started dating. Secondly, they’ve also tried to kill me. Darquesse: It’s true. It was mutually attempted murder.

Darquesse: Why won’t you all just lie down and die with dignity?! Skulduggery: We don’t do anything with dignity!

Darquesse, texting: O Valkyrie: What? Darquesse: Don’t read into that. Valkyrie: But I will read into that. Darquesse: HOW?! IT’S A LETTER! Valkyrie: Why is there a space after it, hmmmmm? Darquesse: Dude, really? Darquesse: It’s a fucking letter. Valkyrie: It could stand for something! Darquesse: IT DOESN’T, I PROMISE! Valkyrie: Like Oppression! Or worse… Darquesse: Dude, I just typed the letter O, that means nothing. :/ Valkyrie: Optometrist. Darquesse: Oh my God…

Skulduggery: Valkyrie, can you help me? All of my clothes keep disappearing for some reason. Valkyrie, wearing a suit jacket that's 2 times bigger than her size: Spooky.

Skulduggery: Would it be discrimination to only hire employees at my doughnut shop who have the same name? Darquesse: Legally, I don't believe that breaches any discrimination laws. Morally though… I don't know. Skulduggery: I believe god is on my side when it comes to Duncans' Doughnuts.

Skulduggery: Valkyrie, Darquesse, I’ve left a letter telling your guardians not to worry— Valkyrie: They won’t. Skulduggery: That you’re safe— Valkyrie: That’ll just depress them. Skulduggery: —and you’ll see them in a few weeks. Darquesse: Do we have to?

Skulduggery: What language do they speak at the center of the earth? Skulduggery: Core-ean Valkyrie: The center of the earth is arond 5430 degrees Celsius! Nobody is going to live there so they don’t need a language! Darquesse: Core-ean.

Valkyrie: The ritual. To perform it requires a sacrifice. Skulduggery: Sacrifice? I nominate Darquesse. Darquesse: Wait, what? Skulduggery: Because you're little, you'll fit on a barbecue. Darquesse: I'm 5'9, it's like average height in most of the world! Valkyrie: It's not that kind of sacrifice guys!

Skulduggery: Please, Darquesse, after everything we’ve been through together. You can’t do this. Skulduggery: I’m sorry Darquesse. Skulduggery: I’m begging you. Don’t do it. Darquesse: It has to be done. Skulduggery: Darquesse: Skulduggery: Darquesse: Places +4 Uno.

Skulduggery: I’m not being weird. Am I being weird? Darquesse: Yes, and that’s coming from me.

Valkyrie, to Darquesse: Are you peanuts? Because I want to boil you alive.

Valkyrie: You don't know anything about me! Skulduggery: I know EVERYTHING about you! You are an open book written for very dumb children!

Darquesse: I’m not so sure you’re stakeout material. Valkyrie: I’m a chronic insomniac, I was born for this.

Darquesse: I'm not mean. Name one mean thing I’ve ever done. Valkyrie: When we were younger, you convinced me eggs weren't real. Darquesse: They're not. Valkyrie: Haha, very funny. Darquesse: I'm serious. Didn't you hear? Valkyrie: No… what happened? Darquesse: …Why would you fall for this again-

Darquesse: I woke up and chose VIOLENCE. I WILL COMMIT ARSON AND BURN EVERYTHING TO THE GROUND!!! I AM ANGRY- Skulduggery: Awwww, you’re so adorable! Give me a hug~ Darquesse: Wh-What? nO, yOURE SUPPOSED TO BE SCARED OF ME! TREMBLE BEFORE MY WRATH- Valkyrie, recording: This is so cute.

Kidnapper: We have your child Ghastly: I don’t have a child? Kidnapper: Then who just asked for warm milk and made us cut the crusts off their sandwich? Ghastly: Oh god, you have Valkyrie

Skulduggery: Valkyrie, why does your bucket list have ‘Die’ on it? Valkyrie: So I can die feeling at least a little bit accomplished.

Skulduggery: Valkyrie, I am nothing if not a man of principle. Skulduggery: Now let’s break into this apartment.

Valkyrie dies in a game with ships Skulduggery: This ship is no longer a ship of love, it's a ship of vengeance, a gavel of justice against all that is wrong in the world, showing no mercy, as no mercy was shown to us. Skulduggery: The spark of love will now fuel the fires of destructive glory as I wage my war across the world with righteous fury. Darquesse: Legend has it that Valkyrie still haunts the ship, stealing my fucking drinks. Valkyrie: Of course I do.

Valkyrie, throwing her head into Tanith's lap: Tell me I'm pretty! Tanith, lovingly stroking her hair: You're pretty fucking annoying, that's what you are.

Darquesse: You look mentally ill. Valkyrie: I am. Let’s go.

The Squad is eating dinner mentally, in Valkyrie's head. Darquesse: Can you pass the salt? Skulduggery: throws Valkyrie across the table

Skulduggery: So what’s the plan? Darquesse: I don’t know. You’re smart, points at Valkyrie she's mean, come up with something.

Skulduggery: Go ahead, Valkyrie. Let it out, cry. If you don't, your tear ducts will get blocked up, and then when you get old, you won't be able to cry. Darquesse: Just when we thought it was safe to let you back into the conversation.

Darquesse: I see the red flags, I acknowledge that they're there, and then I completely ignore them.

Darquesse: What do I get? Skulduggery: A night of fashion, mischief, mayhem, and possible death. Darquesse: Ooh, check, check, and check; not sure about that last one. Skulduggery: It won't be you. Darquesse: I'll get my coat.

Darquesse: Skulduggery, can I speak to you for a minute? In private. Skulduggery: Ooh, someone's in trouble. It's me. I don't know why I did that.

Valkyrie: I hate Darquesse. Skulduggery: "Hate' is a strong word. Valkyrie: I have strong opinions.

Valkyrie: Do you even, cuddle, bro? Do you even lift, bro… each other up with kindness? Do you tell your loved ones that you care about them regardless of who is listening? DO YOU EVER RESOLVE CONFLICTS, EMOTIONAL ISSUES THROUGH COMPROMISE AND COMPASSION RATHER THAN ANGER AND DENIAL?!

Valkyrie: Can we go to a haunted house? Skulduggery: What’s wrong with the one we live in? Valkyrie: Wh-what? Skulduggery: Goodnight, Valkyrie.

Skulduggery: Children are the most insanely stupid people I have the displeasure of interacting with. Darquesse, referring to herself and Valkyrie: Even us? Skulduggery: Especially you guys. Valkyrie: Darquesse: Valkyrie: Petition to kick Skulduggery out so he stop insulting us. Darquesse: Seconded.

Skulduggery: My level of gay has reached “sighing deeply whenever anything extremely heterosexual happens near me”.

Skulduggery: If a demon possessed me, I’d just be like, “Okay, take it from here, good luck man.”

Skulduggery: Define “dream”. Darquesse: Dream - the first thing people abandon when they learn how the world works. Valkyrie: That’s too dark!

Skulduggery: Is anyone going to tell me what's going on in here?! Darquesse: It's kind of complicated, but Valkyrie- Skulduggery: Got it. Forget I asked.

Valkyrie: Gives a bouquet to Darquesse Darquesse: You know I'm allergic. Valkyrie: That's the point.

[daemon-in-my-head]

Okay here's my impromptu datv review that nobody asked for but I feel a certain need to ramble. Spoilers duh

Shit I vibe with:

The hair. Not the selection but the overall way it was implemented. It's nice and flowy and actually moves when my character does which is pretty neat and definitely hits a spot I didn't know have

Exploration is kinda fun. As in, getting sidetracked by side paths and the likes

Contrary to popular opinion I actually like my Character having a voice and actually being part of the conversation, so that's cool

Considerably minor choices have an impact. And now I want to punch Solas for being a smug asshole after I was a dick. I mean cmon he kinda deserved that one

You can somewhat customize your room. That's fun

Also; aquarium room yay

Stuff thats just 'fine'

The character creator. The scars are cartoonish, the tattoo selection is something, for lack of better term, and the hair selection at least for elves is atrocious. But, there are a lot of sliders for the face and body itself and you can get lost in them for quite a while

The atmosphere is alright. Environment is pretty to look at usually

The tarot art and stuff is pretty

Shit I definitely don't like

The lightning, or lack thereof. Somehow my white haired dude has black hair everywhere but in the lighthouse where it's somewhat muddy gray. Outside of the character creator I don't think I've actually seen the color I chose. Seemingly not an issue for dark hairs tho

The action combat. Don't get me wrong, looked super fun, and may be, but at least as a warrior who needs to get up and close to enemies half of the time I just don't see shit cuz of the weird camera angles. The darkspawn and shit are especially horrible cuz the blight usually covers the mark that would tell me whether or not an incoming attack is blockable. Which is fun if your combat kinda relies on you blocking shit.

Complaining further about the 'action combat'; it's so oddly slow at times? At least the warrior combat doesn't feel particularly fast, especially dynamic attacks like dodging, rushing or jumping. Which yk, you'd think would be fast. Then again, I am used to incredibly fast-paced combat and games in general (yk the kind that doesnt even allow you to think), so that might be working at my disadvantage rn.

Further complaining about the combat +1; the tutorial is shit. I'm sorry but text dumps ain't a tutorial that's a wiki or smth. Tell me which button to press in a tutorial fight while I actually need it and see my actions immediately translated and don't tell me 2 seconds after spawning 'hey u can dodge like this' only to have absolutely no reason to dodge for the next 10 minutes and 3 cutscenes. That's just lazy game design

The combat controls. Listen I know this is super nitpicky but who the fuck uses space to dodge as standard control in 2024 and why do you hate your players like that?

The writing. It's so on the nose. It's legitimately written for people without any critical thinking ability or attention span or whatever. Also it's so fucking repetitive. Yes we've established the elven gods are evil like 10 times in the last 60 seconds. I think I understand now. Can we talk about literally anything else please?

It feels like all characters have this 'try not to smile now' smile all the time. The stakes are supposed to be high but everyone's just grinning about. It does definitely impact the vibe

Being a sarcastic bitch sometimes is as morally gray as this game gets

The story is paced slowly. Which could be a win, but in this case feels more like a drag or a timestretch to artificially increase the content.

I've been a bitch to harding, nearly killed her, told her to stay back multiple times, overall did only thinks she disapproves of and I still rizzed her up somehow. Why. How. Does it even matter if they approve or disapprove of my actions? So far it doesn't rly seem like it

Why do you allow me to pet cats nd stuff if I can't actually see it happening. -100 points just for this one in particular

Most of the NPCs are copy pasted models and I can't unsee it. BG3 spoiled my ass with their diversity.

Turn your brain off and it's fine. Nice to look at. 60€ worth nice to look at? I'm rly not sure. Oh but definitely don't try to think if you listen to or read the dialogue cuz it will physically hurt you.

Will I keep playing it? Idk, honestly I am kinda bored after the initial 'oh new shiny game' wore off even though the concept is exactly the shit I usually vibe with. But welp, we'll see, whatever happens happens, for now I'll just disappear back into the void where I came from and probably take a nap.

[craziestfangirl98]

My thoughts on The Trainee Ep 10.

(I watched it last week but then my mom was here so wasn't able to update the thoughts. Gonna do this now, please forgive me if there are overlaps to the new episode or any of the old once. It's not as fresh in my head.)

Jane picking up and dropping Ryan off, not overstepping to 'announce' necessarily his courtship. Realising it is just the two of theirs until they decide to address is something very personal to me. The whole moment was very precious and I loved it. The uncertainty on both their ends. It was so palpable and beautiful and soft.

Tae being heartbroken and barely being able to function, after such a long relationship, probably the only real and meaningful relationship is so profound because how is he to do anything when his heart is shattered and he is barely holding on. I like that. I also love that, after the previous (?) week and getting reassurance from P' Jo, that he matters in the workplace, Pah has become the glue and in a way the one who knows everyone and brings departments together, especially if it is to help is heartbroken Bestie. That being said, I unfortunately do not particularly like the rest of the art department pushing Tae to fight for her. I would have liked it if he came to that decision by himself.

Bamhee and P' Judy seem to be navigating the delicate balance of being intern-mentor and being interested in each other doesn't look much different from the beginning weeks (case in point the massage, it's a lot of casual leaning and touching and I don't know what to think of it.)

Pai continuing to get Ryan's crush wrong with so much of conviction is hilarious to me and makes me curious to see how it comes out in the open, so to speak.

BOYS! You want to flirt, I get it, but maybe don't leave the evidence right there? Are you insane?!!!!?!?!!? Do you have no regard for my mental peace? That being said you are so cute and I would happily turn a blind eye to those papers. Also, Ryan as someone who works in a printer shop I thought you of all people would be against it but sure.

NOOOOO PAI DON'T USE THOSE PAPERS! DON'T SEE BEHIND THEM! I DIDN'T MEAN TO JINX IT. Is this how you are going to find out about them?!

I like that Bamhee is slowly becoming more and more keen towards her work. It's nice to see her focus on work instead of a person, specifically someone she is romantically involved with.

Ohhh shit. Judy is making the decisions. That's not all good. She is paying attention but in the wrong way. Bamhee has to tell her, she had plans from earlier, if she wants to be heard.

I liked Bamhee and Pai's conversation. One, because it's good to see their friendship continue and blossom. It's very wholesome and heartwarming.

Second, because I like that they are addressing Bamhee's feelings towards Tae as well as Judy. She is uncertain of where she stands and for someone who is just starting out in their queer(bi/pan?) journey it is nice to see that acknowledgement. Also, not being mean but I like that she realises that sometimes that much attention from one single person can be overwhelming to deal with.

Nice call back to Ryan and Jane blocking the scene in the van in one of the earlier episodes. I love how they end up blocking, was it again Jane's choice to ask for Ryan?

Same question I have Jane, How has Ryan survived so far?

How am I just realising that Acts of Service is a big part of Jane's show of love and affection? Jane just casually roasting his peers (validly) to show Ryan that sometimes there is nothing special about the adults is at the same time so important and hilarious to me.

Pai falling shouldn't be so hilarious. Why am I laughing! The timing of it coinciding with Jane's monologue, the fact that the papers have incriminating evidence of a secret 'to-be-relationship', the fact that all the interns are just so clumsy and chaotic, the fact that she couldn't open the water bottle and just gave up on drinking water (honestly full relate Pai) everything is pure comedic genius. Even more than the P' Baimon as crush + Windows error tone.

Also... Jane, I love you. But who are you calling losers, when your secret is laying out in the open for anyone to see and with only you and Ryan to save yourself. 😭😭😭 Good to know at least you can laugh at it. Hopefully you've disposed off the evidence.

Ohhh it's the grand romantic gesture. I get that your heart is in the right places Tae. I hope it works out for you.

Ooooh you are never to touch personal pillows! I think Judy can be a great mentor to Bamhee, don't know about the romantic interest (which is I think what the narrative is going for as well. In my opinion at least.)

The entire team conspiring to get Bamhee to Tae would've freaked me out if it was me. (What is interesting is, even the mean colleagues from earlier episodes are happily a part of Pah's team, make of it what you will.)

Say what you will, it is quite pretty and both of them look super cute.

I am glad Tae told her about the anniversary, instead of choosing to suffer in silence. Especially considering how much effort went into it, how much he overworked himself. Because if she didn't get to know about it, there's a possibility of resentment later on which is not good.

(ohhhh it's from The Terminal! I love the movie. Catherine Zeta Jones was sooo beautiful in that. I love her.)

Go Bamhee! She knows now what she wants and what she needs. She knows how she needs it rectified. She doesn't need these big gestures (exclusively) she more so wants love on a more everyday basis and I think it's so good to see her acknowledge it and speak about it instead of keeping all the times she was hurt by his silence because it felt like a dismissal. I'm proud of them both. I needed this conversation with them if it was to go in this direction.

I also liked that Bamhee had a conversation with P'Judy as well instead of just ghosting or just becoming non-committal about it. Shows she has matured. Also will not come at the cost of her internship. I like Bamhee's realisations, they feel honest to the trajectory and narrative arc. For the first time I feel like I'm seeing an emotion in P' Judy's eyes which as mean as it sounds, finally shows it meant enough to her as well.

Awwww... Everyone is so happy for them and honestly, me too. They've understood where each of them went wrong, I would've liked Bamhee to honestly address the kiss as well but except for that I have no complains honestly.

I love him Jane is constantly aware of Ryan and the things surrounding him. Case in point the print shop = production house comment. I'm sure it made him feel seen. I also like that this show keeps reiterating that you don't need to have lofty dreams and careers to be a successful functioning human being, just as long as you are authentic and kind. As someone who is really struggling with the whole career bit, I would've liked if someone could tell me this irl.

I hope the whole story about Jane's directorial route comes out before the series ends. I want to know him more, especially considering his (slimy) ex could be the trashy intern.

Oh hey! Ryan the namesake search is back! I missed it. I like that Ryan is slowly becoming more sure about himself. I also like that Jane is fully smitten and can't seem to take his eyes off of him.

You're right Ryan. He is very cool.

I think we all know what or who he was thinking about when getting the photo taken.

I like the message tidbits everytime. I especially like to see the hesitation in the messaging.

See you back for the next episode thoughts. Would love to hear more from you all as well so feel free to pop in!

[funkii-fox]

Should I block the French Guy?

This mf has the audacity to pretend to agree that AI “art” is wrong, then STILL is using AI to generate images of his ocs. I posted the quote of Araki condemning AI “art” and this fucking guy has the audacity to like it, even tho I had him in mind while posting it.

I was like “yk, I havent seen this guy’s story in a while because it’s 100% hateful, maybe I should check to see if he still does.” The most recent one I could find was from September 8th in a highlight abt ocs, but that’s not to say he hasn’t used it since and just didn’t save it to highlight. Make of that what you will, but I choose to believe he’s still using AI. I remember once I even had a convo telling him to stop using AI, but bro just went “ok” and still used AI BRUH🗿

But guess what else I saw: he likes Jimmy 😭😭😭 this was 100% expected tho. He once changed his pfp to Curly and i was like “your ass is NOT Curly ur Jimmy bro.” He posted 3 whole stories abt the community judging ppl that like Jimmy. He compared it to how ppl like DIO and said its bc he has pretty privilege and not Jimmy and thats why ppl judge them. I won’t lie; yes, most ppl like DIO bc hes pretty and charming, but at least he has some types of redeeming qualities. Jimmy is just 100% asshole. Every scene you see of him is he’s being a jerk or a fuck up that says “i can fix this” but actually can’t. Mouthwashing is SO un-nuanced in the way you’re supposed to hate Jimmy, it’s amazing rlly. We’re not even shown much of his personal life or other aspects of his personality; unlike other antagonists like Kira or Diavolo.

Now, am I gonna throw rocks at your window for liking Jimmy? No. Do what you want. But, i will psychoanalyze you and conclude that you like him either for the abusive dynamic or you like him bc he’s like you. This guy 110% likes Jimmy bc he’s relatable.

Simply looking at it face value right now, the way this guy is so OBSESSED with other people is insane. 90% of my conversations w this guy has been bruja arianna, snerufu, antis, women who make self insert ocs, or his arch nemesis Fay that he just can’t stop stalking. It reminds me of how Jimmy was obsessed and jealous of Curly’s success. He is also negative all the time. Even when making a joke, the punchline is always someone else or a cheap horny joke that comes across as a 7th grader. It reminds me of how Jimmy HAD to take Curly saying “i want more in life” the wrong way. It even manifests in the way bro had Curly as his pfp; because he wants to be like Curly.

We met from me shitting on bruja arianna. My criticism came from logic and a want to make change in the community, but it’s clear now that his criticism comes from hate and insecurity. He’s so passionate about hate, i think it’s the only thing he’s passionate about. He’s not even passionate enough about his own ocs to draw them himself. He’s so hateful he makes fun of women in the fandom for damn near anything they do, as if millions of ppl don’t also see him as a woman and as if he never lived as a woman. Then he hides all of his edginess as “im French lol we’re just angry :p” be so serious

His only other characteristic is being hypocritical. This guy “doesn’t deserve hate” but is constantly negative all the time. This guys gets upset at shit on a screen just to search it up more. This guy HATES bruja arianna for mocking trans men, yet all his male ocs are “androgynous” no mf they look like girls.

Chat, I don’t care anymore about being stalked. I’m stronger now. I have better things to worry about now that I have a life. I don’t care if he talks a lot of shit nor do I care if he “exposes” me for some made up bs. He can have a tantrum all he wants; i have better things to care about

Poll whether I should block him under the cut.

[very-grownup]

Book 62, 2023

Let the record show that I do not throw this statement around willy or nilly: priest's "Guardian" reminds me of Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service. They're not the same kind of story, but the blocks of their foundation were mined in the same quarry, you know? I apparently love these narratives built on folklore and religion from cultures that are modernly, socially atheist. I don't know if I find them particularly fascinating because they're simply not the stories I grew up with or if it's that European Christian colonialism has resulted in what can feel like a melting pot gumbo of 'fairy taleish' things that in the 21st century are just another piece of pop culture.

No we will not be content with "I just think it's neat". These are the dark consequences of a liberal arts' education.

"Guardian" is really enjoyable even if the mystery elements are not so mysterious to the reader. Zhao Yunlan is a delightful trashman of a detective/cop/intermediate between Heaven and Hell, smoking and drinking and living in his own filth, in addition to being the first danmei protagonist who knows that bisexuality exists. I appreciate his honest horniness. There seems to be a fairly equal push and pull, saviour and savee dynamic between him and his love interest Shen Wei and even the small acknowledgement of 'oh shit maybe this dude is in the closet' and the attempt to dial things back when Shen Wei seems to declare his lack of interest. Zhao Yunlan isn't a disaster bisexual without social awareness.

I hope going forward we get to see more of Zhao Yunlan's squad. So far there are two standouts. The first is the talking fat immortal black cat, Da Qing, who is a talking fat immortal black cat and. Look. One of the most important characters is a black cat who talks and he is immortal and fat and bosses Zhao Yunlan around and makes him microwave tiny sausages and milk. The second is the first character you meet, Guo Changcheng, a normie nepotism hire who is naïve and absurdly goodhearted and afraid of everything, including and especially social interaction, but seems to be finding that his fear of talking to people and his fear of ghosts are slowly cancelling each other out and maybe it's not that hard to talk to ghosts.

Trashman and talking cat investigate ghost crime is a good time, guys.