#so here’s an artists that is an expert at what you’re looking for :)

[sweetest-honeybee]

Don't beat yourself up! Honestly, it's fine if a commission takes a little long, the last thing I'd want is the person I commission to stress themselves over a piece and getting frustrated. In my opinion I rather wait as long as possible for something that had time and effort put into it then receive a product the artist didn't have a good time working on!

I really appreciate it! It’s not for everyone to wait and that’s alright but genuinely, a lot of my best work comes out of patience and enjoyment. I put in a LOT of effort and fun details and take my sweet time cleaning up the piece when I know I’m gonna enjoy taking all that time to do it

Like hell, how I did the entire second version of that piece of the one oc and Frank? I had so much fun doing it and adding details that were harder to notice and taking the time to throw on some more layers to make a creepy one and I hardly minded taking that extra time to do it because I was in the zone and having fun 😌

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

A good grade.

Pairing: Perv Art Professor!Joel x afab!reader Words count: 4844 Rating: +18, MDNI Summary: You always thought you would have a future in the art world, until you met Mr. Miller, your professor who decided to make your life hell. What are you willing to do for a good grade? Tags: perv!Joel, soft!Joel, power imbalance, degradation, smut, blackmail, reader is described having female genitalia, no other description of her is given, unspecified age gap (in my mind 24/45 but you can imagine whatever, they’re both grown up anyway), unprotected p in v (reader is on the pill but you know, do better irl), oral (f receiving), mention of blowjob, edging, edging with a brush, creampie, pet names, slurs, Joel has a dirty mouth, a lot of swearing, some reader's thoughts marked in italics.

Disclaimers: English is not my first language, very poorly proofread, no beta, it's all my fault and I'm very sorry! I like art but I'm not an expert, I've never taken lessons (well, in high school I did but it was art history and it was only theoretical) and I don't really know how they work, I made it all up so if it doesn't adhere to reality please excuse me. I hope you like it anyway, the other morning I woke up with the idea of ​​Joel painting me as one of his French girls (heheheheh) and I started writing this thing 💀

If anyone wants to be added or removed from the taglist, please let me know. Thanks to anyone who reads, I hope you like it ♥️

You’ve always loved art, since high school it’s always been your favorite subject and drawing and painting your outlet, your way of expressing yourself. Your teachers have always praised you, considering your works not only perfectly executed but significant, mature, full of pathos. Everyone has always told you that you had an eye for recognizing artistic value, you’ve always been the best in your class and you’ve worked hard to get here.

You graduated with excellent grades and were accepted into a prestigious master's program. You would like to become a professional artist or at least an art critic.

You had a bright future ahead of you, until you met Professor Joel Miller.

He has done nothing but criticize you, your skills and your work from the very first day. 

And he always does it deliberately, in front of everyone else. No matter how hard you try, you never get more than F for every work you submit. The disdain with which he treats you makes you feel like a failure and your breath die in your throat every time he lays eyes on you and says the most hateful words you’ve ever heard about yourself. Today it happened again. You spent sleepless nights working on this portrait, begging the model called by Professor Miller to see you after class hours. You even offered to pay her and she was kind, she didn’t ask for an outrageous amount despite the fact that she could have taken much more lucrative jobs instead of posing for you. You’re just a master’s student trying to support herself by working nights in a bar. 

“What is this?” he thundered looking at your painting “You are only getting worse, miss, I have never seen anything like this. It is indecent that a person like you tries to make art, it should be prohibited by law. Look at this, wrong proportions, no harmony, no attention to detail, nothing. This does not even look like the same person I had pose for hours in front of you. You should be ashamed to present a work like this after 6 months of course” 

You won't be able to finish your master's degree unless you get a passing grade in Professor Miller's course, but he doesn't seem at all inclined to give you even a measly D.

It’s a nightmare.

You'd be forced to start all over again, ask your parents for financial help, which is the last thing you want to do when they've already sacrificed so much to help you pay for college, or do the unthinkable and give up on all your dreams, the career you have cultivated with strength and passion throughout your life up until now.

You decide to make a last-ditch effort and try to talk to Mr Miller during his office hours.

You've always avoided it until now because you thought things would get better but it's the third F you get and you can't afford to go on like this. 

The idea of ​​being alone with him doesn't excite you at all, but you hate losing everything you've worked so hard for even more.

You take a deep breath before knocking on the door, terrified of what he might say to you.

Mr Miller is also an established artist and his work has been appreciated abroad so his disapproval could really preclude you from many opportunities. 

“Come in” even from behind closed door his voice sends shivers down your spine.

You walk in muttering “good afternoon” feeling like a complete idiot, you are already convinced that it was a mistake to come to him, nothing will change his mind. 

Joel is sitting behind his desk, frowning as he corrects tests. He looks up from the papers only when you are in front of him “Oh. it's you,” he says in his usual dismissive tone of voice “What do you want miss?” 

You clear your throat and murmur, “I...” his gaze is already back on the tests, he doesn't even look at your face as he fills the paper with red marks and writes a big circled F at the top, the assignment of some other hapless person like you who will find himself failing his class. Incredible anger mounts in your body, you clench your fists and say "excuse me" in a stern voice. 

It infuriates you, it's maddening how he can't even treat you as a human being for a second. 

"What do you want?" he asks annoyed looking back up at you "and be quick about it, you are wasting my time." 

“I'd like to know what I need to do to have you evaluate me favorably” you try to keep your tone as detached and respectful as possible even though you despise the man in front of you with every fiber of your body. 

“Nothing, you can't do anything, I thought you had figured it out by now, are you also stupid besides not having the slightest talent?”

“Actually...fuck, I don't think I am that bad. And I think you are judging me too harshly,” you spit out feeling tears stinging your eyes. You promised yourself to keep calm but the way he is treating you only makes you want to insult him.

“I advise you to moderate your tone if you don't want to be expelled as well as failed in my class.”

He has the upper hand, you can't do anything about it. A sense of frustration and helplessness crackles under your skin as you plead with him, “Please Mr Miller there must be something I can do to change things. Anything...I…I don't want to fail.” 

An evil grin paints on his face “how much do you care about it?” 

“It's the only thing I care about, please, art means everything to me” you look at him feeling your whole essence crumble in front of him, you are desperate and tired of struggling, you just want to find a way to work things out. You have very good grades in all the other courses, he is the only one stopping you from achieving what you want most in the world.

“Actually you could do something to make it better,” Joel suggests, and you cry, ”Please, I'll do anything.” 

“Anything?” he probes ”are you sure?” His smug, dangerous expression unnerves you, maybe you shouldn't have made yourself so vulnerable in front of him, but there's no turning back now. "Yes," you shriek.

He leans against the back of the chair while continuing to sneer under his mustache “Well, then I have an offer for you. I'm working on a series of paintings of women, you could pose for me.” 

“Me?” you ask confused, the last thing you expected was for him to ask you to paint you.  

“Why not, if nothing else you're pretty,” he admits, and it's the first nice thing about you that's ever come out of his mouth. 

You wonder what the scam is behind his proposal, it can't be that easy, he's probably going to ask you to pose with some repulsive animal or in a way that makes you look completely idiotic or he's just pretending that this is the solution but then he's going to blackmail you and make you regret setting foot in his office.

He writes something on a post-it note and hands it to you “Meet me at this address tomorrow night at 8” he orders you “don't be late” 

“I really...” you try to say. 

“What? Is there something more urgent you need to do besides securing good grades?” he raises an eyebrow scrutinizing your astonished face. 

“No it's just that...I'm supposed to be working at that time.” You mutter.

“Well get your shift changed, or ask someone to fill in for you, pretend to be sick, I don't care, just show up.” He barks at you. 

“Okay,” you agree. You can't say no, it's your last resort, either that or total defeat. 

You walk out of his office with the feeling that you have gotten into big trouble. 

_____________________________

You get confirmation of this the next day when you show up at the address written by Professor Joel. It's on a suburban street with little traffic, in front of you is what looks like an abandoned former factory. A blast of cold air makes you shiver as you ring an old intercom near the front door. You huddle in your coat, wondering where the hell you are. Maybe he gave you the wrong address just to make fun of you, you took two buses to get here, at the very least you'll soon find out your professor isn't even here. 

Surprisingly, he answers you instead, his thick voice ordering you to come up. You enter through the doorway into a dusty, bare lobby, only an old freight elevator in front of you. You push the button and the elevator car begins to descend with a sinister, metallic sound. "What the hell is this place?” you ask yourself "my god, I'm going to end up dead and thrown in a dumpster". You get on the elevator with your heart in your throat praying that there isn't a serial killer waiting for you on the other side. 

The doors suddenly open wide onto a large room with concrete columns. You step out and look around, there is a large table in the corner, chock full of artists' materials, tempera, canvases, oil paints, watercolors, all thrown in bulk. Various canvases are resting on pedestals scattered around the room, and others lie leaning against the wall. There is an old leather couch in the corner and a double mattress resting on wooden pallets on the other side. Several rugs are spread on the floor. It's all messy and chaotic, but it definitely has the look of an art studio. 

"Oh, you're here at last," Joel grunts, popping up from behind a pillar holding a dirty brush stained with red tempera. 

He is wearing a pair of frayed jeans and a white T-shirt stained in paint, he is disheveled and barefoot. 

He doesn't even look like your professor; he always wears suits and perfectly ironed shirts at university. 

Two large leaded windows divided into small squares open on the wall in front of you. 

It’s dark by now, so the entire room is softly lit by several lamps and candles scattered around. 

“Where should I stand to pose?” you don't intend to put in more than is necessary; spending time with this obnoxious man is the last thing you want to do today. 

“Sit on the couch,” Joel orders, pointing to the old leather ruin to your right, ”I'll prepare the necessities and we'll get started.” 

You sit, quietly, dreading what lies ahead. 

Joel picks up a blank canvas and places it on a stand, takes a graphite pencil from the table and orders you " Undress" 

You squint your eyes, squeaking “I'm sorry, what?”

“I'm making a series of artistic nudes, didn't I tell you?” he grins 

“No, you don’t” you retort. 

Fucking bastard. 

“Strip” he repeats firmly. 

“But I don't-”

“Look, you're already irritating me, either take off your fucking clothes or get out of here” 

You've seen people pose nude in your art classes before, even in Professor Joel's class, and all you've ever cared about was doing a good job, but now it's different. It's just you and him, in a place in the middle of nowhere, you weren't warned before, and more importantly, he makes you uncomfortable. 

His gaze has done nothing but judge you from the first moment it landed on you. You don't want to lose that last bit of dignity you still preserve and let him see you in your most intimate form. 

“So what have you decided?” Joel presses you. 

With extreme reluctance, you begin to take off your coat, laying it on the couch. What else can you do? By now you have fallen into a trap, either you do this or your grade at the end of the course will be F. 

F for failure.

“Damn asshole,” you think, ”I hope I never see you again in my life after your fucking course is over.” 

The resentment must be clear on your face because Joel mocks you “Oh come on, don't pout like that. There's nothing underneath that I haven't seen a hundred times before. It's just tits and a cunt” he concludes in a dismissive tone, crossing his arms over his chest impatiently.

He rolls his eyes when after some hesitation you slip off the T-shirt you are wearing, revealing a light pink lace bra. 

He curls his lips "cute," he whispers in a lascivious tone " take that off too." 

“But Mr Miller I...” you try to retort

“Go ahead and take it off,” your arms reach for your back, you undo the hooks of your bra and drop it to the floor. You cannot believe this is happening, you are bare-chested in front of your professor. 

"Very well..." he acquiesces, "you see, everything is easier when you cooperate." 

He strokes his beard as he glances at you remove your shoes and pulling down your jeans, the same smug, dangerous smile he had in his office returns to peep across his face.

“Good girl.” 

You feel a knot in your stomach. And you who thought that commitment and talent were enough to get results...poor naive girl. 

You should get out of here and go to the dean and report him for unethical conduct but you suddenly realize that he may be the first, but he won't be the last. 

"Lie down on the couch," Joel whispers to you, his gaze not leaving your body, hungry and demanding. 

You don't want to be here, yet you feel you can't do anything else at this point. 

"Raise your right arm above your head," Joel instructs, "and bend your legs slightly." 

“Like this. Don't move," Joel stands in front of the canvas and begins to trace marks on the surface. His hand moves quickly, his fingers run over the traced lines smudging them. 

You remain still as he ordered you, feeling goosebumps across your body and your nipples harden from the cold. 

You have to admit to yourself that it is fascinating to watch him work; his gaze is alert and sure, his hands move expertly and competently. He is certainly talented. 

Joel observes the work done so far, scratching his chin, adding a few touches here and there as his eyes scan the entire surface of the canvas.

Maybe he really just wants to paint you and you're making a big deal out of nothing, maybe this will end well after all. He moves the easel to one side of the sofa you assume to look at you from another angle until he growls “Spread your legs for me, darling” 

“But I don't-”

“I need more shadows on your  body”

“What?” you glance at him, this sounds like a lame excuse. 

“Spread your legs” he repeats ”come on” 

You do so, feeling his eyes everywhere on you, feeding on every uncovered inch of your skin. And for some reason you cannot explain, you feel your body react under his gaze. You peak at the outline of his cock straining under his jeans, a rush of adrenaline rushes through you, a flush of arousal between your legs. 

No, you can't. 

You cannot crave for him to look at you. He's your professor who lured you here under false pretenses. 

Yet you realize how incredibly handsome he is. So far you had only thought of him as your teacher and had never truly paused to observe him, especially since he always treated you like a dirtbag. 

“Perfect, now stay still like this,” he mutters.

He hums as you do “Such a good girl for me” in a mellifluous and manipulative tone.

You feel his voice penetrate deep into your bones and another thrill of arousal runs through you all, gliding under your skin and straight to your pussy. 

This is so fucked up but on the other hand you are thrilled by the idea of ​​ending up in one of his paintings.

He makes a couple of changes to the sketch and then walks over to you, sitting on the armrest of the couch. He watches you intently, as if he wants to study every tiny detail about you, you still have your panties on but you've never felt more naked than that.

“Hmm, someone is wet.” he observes, gazing at the wet spot on your underwear. “It’s all for me?”

“I…uh…no, absolutely not” You don't want to admit it even to yourself but the situation is turning you on, no matter how wrong it is. 

“Honey, I advise you never to play poker,” he sneers. You look at him puzzled, and he adds, “You're not good at bluffing at all.”

When he reaches out a hand to touch you, you almost tremble, it's as if your body is crying out to him “take me. use me.”

All you ever wanted from the beginning was his approval and now somehow he seems to recognize something in you. You just want to stop arguing, to stop fighting, to stop feeling like you are worth less than nothing, you just want to know that you still have a future that consists of not settling for a job that you don't love and doesn't allow you to feel fulfilled and let you get the results you know you deserve. 

And most of all, you want him to be on your side.

“You're such a pretty little thing, you know that?” his voice gruels as his fingers run from your ankle to your knee and then up to your inner thigh. You stiff, feeling your heart raging up under your ribcage and a fresh flush of arousal dampening your cunt.

How did you never realize how sexy this man is? Now that his gaze has softened you notice the deep brown of his eyes, with some hazel undertones, and how he lights up as he stares at you. 

God, you want him so bad right now. 

You are almost on the verge of grabbing his wrist and placing his big hand on your pussy already, but you decide to let him. 

His fingers move slowly over your skin; instead of touching you where you need it most, his hand stops at your hip, fiddling with the hem of your panties. 

"Can I?" he grunts. 

You nod silently and he demands “I need you to use your words, baby. Speak to me”

“Yes” you breath 

He grins as he places his other hand on your hip and begins to pull down your panties. You lift your pelvis to ease him, and he comments, "mmm, so eager. You’re such a slut, aren’t you?”

You feel your cheeks on fire as you cannot take your eyes off him, desperately in need of his hands, his lips, his tongue and his cock. You want it all, right now. So maybe he’s right, you’re a slut and you don’t even care. 

Joel calmly moves your panties down your legs and brings them to his nose, inhaling your scent. “Sweet. I bet you taste even better.”

He gets up from the couch, tucking your panties into his jeans pocket, and takes a clean brush from a container resting on the table. He sits back right next to you, and grins. 

He caresses the inside of your leg with the brush, the feeling of the bristles flowing over your skin is incredible, soft and intense at the same time, leisurely moving on your inner thigh, raising up closer and closer to your pussy, his eyes set in yours, mesmerized by you.

You are subjugated by him as he fondles you, going up your belly with his brush, deliberately ignoring your pussy, moving deftly over every curve of your body. It is as if he is painting you, as if he has made you his work of art.

The bristles rub over your rib cage, slowly, then your breasts, moving in concentric circles from your areola to your nipples. He passes the brush back and forth over your hard buds and a deep moan escapes from your throat. “Please, Mr Miller” you whine. 

“You can call me Joel, darling” he whispers “what do you need?” 

“I…fuck” You’re dripping wet, your voice is a wail and your body is itching to be touched. 

“Say it.” he orders you, ”I want to hear it.”

“I want - fuck - my pussy” you blather, you are not even able to form a complete sentence right now.

Joel laughs faintly, descending again on your abdomen, very slowly, until he reaches your mound. He rubs the bristles from right to left lingeringly, then lowering again, descending on your outer lips, first one side and then the other. And then again and again. 

When he finally brushes over your clit, you are so pent up and needy that you arch your back, emitting a throaty moan. 

“Oh God! Oh my God”

Joel lowers the brush to your clit, surrounding it with the bristles, pushing and making concentric circles. He stops when he feels you on the edge. 

And then he does it all again, circling and pressing, jerking your bundle of nerves with the brush. And then a third time. 

You’re a crying mess at this point, mind completely numb and your body covered in sweat.

He spreads your folds with his thumbs and sighs, “Look at this pussy, all nice and wet for me, I can’t wait to dip into your sweet honey, babe”

He throws the brush on the floor, it falls with a dull thud bouncing on the carpet. 

“So fucking perfect” 

You squeeze your eyes whining “please" a riot of emotions assail you, your body is so on the edge you could explode just by the way he looks at you, moistening his lips with his tongue.

He puts his arms around your neck, “cling to me,” he whispers. You do as he says, instinctively encircling his waist with your legs, clinging to his body with all your strength as he carries you to the bed and lays you gently on top.

He undresses, staying in his boxers in front of you. 

You can't take your eyes off him, gazing at his wide shoulders, his broad chest, his soft belly with a thin strip of hair running down into his boxers. 

He kneels on the bed, facing you, gently spreading your legs and moving between them. 

He lowers himself on you, placing a kiss on your clit, making you whimper another pathetic "please." 

He sticks his tongue out and runs it flat across your folds, up and down, one hand firmly clinging to your hip, his fingers digging into your skin. 

"I was right, you taste amazing," he murmurs against your skin. 

You are no longer thinking about anything right now, not about your master's degree, evaluations or the fact that he is your teacher. 

You feel his nose hitting on your clit as he eagerly licks your folds, opening them with two fingers to sink his tongue in. 

You bite your lower lip, stifling your moans, burying a hand in his dark curls, pulling him toward you “oh fuck, yes”.

His tongue encircles your hard clit, swirling around, his lips lace over it sucking greedily.

“You don’t need to hold back, you can be as loud as you want in here, no one will hear us. Let me hear you, baby. I wanna know how you sound when you come” 

He doesn't stop sucking and licking until you feel your orgasm mount inside you like a flooding river, invading your body, curving your toes, clenching your fists on the sheet beneath you and rolling your hips on his face, wetting his lips, his chin, dripping onto your inner thigh. 

“Yeah, baby, come apart on my tongue, just like that”

He licks you clean until you calm down, devouring your juices to the last drop and then looks up at you “you have no idea how beautiful you are, starving for my cock” he groans “god, I must have you right now, I must make you mine, you hungry little whore”

You wait for nothing else, it seems your thirst has no way to quench today.

“Please, Joel,”

He pulls off his boxers, throwing them on the floor, his cock springs free and is incredibly hard, you can't stop looking at it. He's big, so big you don't even know how he's going to fit all the way inside you but you don’t care. “Fill me up, Joel, please”

“Yeah? You want this big cock inside you? Want me to fill you up so good baby?” He grumbles.

“Please, Joel, it’s all I need” you whine. 

He lies on top of you, tapping your lips a few times with the tip, running it along your folds and wetting it with your juices, aligning himself with your opening, “I'll give you what you want, then.”

He nudges at your hole a moment before he enters you, just the tip, pressing gently to let you get used to his intrusion. 

You moan feverishly, clinging to his back, bucking your hips toward him “more, please, more” you plea. 

As he plunges inside you, he stares at your face, as if he doesn’t want to miss a single second of your reactions, when he’s ball deep into you you let out an incoherent whine so graveling it doesn’t even sounds like your voice. 

He begins to pump into you as you circle his waist with your legs again, pushing to feel him deeper, your hands roaming in his graying hair. 

“Here you go, taking me so well princess, you’re so good to me” 

When his lips settle on yours you realize that you had not yet kissed until this moment. His lips are soft, demanding, his tongue penetrates your mouth licking eagerly, and you are more than happy to respond, savoring his taste of mint and cigarettes. 

One of his hands kneads your breast, his fingers close on one of your nipples as his cock doesn't stop sinking inside you.

You moan into his mouth feeling like you are on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall into the sinful pit of hell. 

“Where do you want me?” he whispers in your ear, and your voice comes out broken from the back of your throat  ”Inside. please. I'm - fuck - I'm on the pill.” 

You feel him spilling his load inside you a moment later, painting your inner wall with his hot sticky cum. 

You feel delirious and exhausted, guilty for what you just did. Your moral code has just been shattered under the hot weight of his body.

He kisses you again, lingering on your bottom lip. “You’re so much better than I thought,” he chuckles. 

He moves away from you and stands up naked to return to the sketch. He traces a few lines and makes some adjustments as you stare at him in amazement.

“Can you show me?” you ask. “Yes, come here,” he replies. You get up and stand next to him to observe the canvas. Your body is sketched on it and it looks perfect, you have never seen yourself so beautiful.

“You can go if you want, I’m done for today” 

“I- I don’t want to”

“Do you want more?” he sneers “god, you really are a slut.” he comments as he gets closer to you. 

He fucks you two more times, the first time he makes you get on all fours, licking your pussy from behind and then sinking into you while he holds you by the hips, his cock slamming against your cervix and his balls against your ass. Then you’re too eager to have him in your mouth, to taste your flavor mixed with his, so you offer to give him a blowjob and he fucks your mouth before digging back into your pussy again.

He drives you back to campus. “I may be an asshole, but I won’t let you walk around alone at night,” he says. 

You get out of his car feeling like you’re in a bubble, like everything that happened was just a surreal dream you can’t wake up from. You collapse into your bed after throwing your clothes haphazardly on the floor. When you wake up the next morning you feel like shit. 

You don't know how boldly you will look your classmates in the eye, but you can't skip class, and the thought of seeing Joel again thrills you, no matter how wrong it is. 

When Joel enters the classroom, he ignores you, probably so as not to arouse suspicion; it would be too strange for him to treat you with regard after denigrating you for months.

He begins returning graded tests proceedings slowly as usual, moving between desks and laying down the papers without making any comment. The test that rests on your desk has a circled A at the top.

Tag list: @aurorawritestoescape @baronessvonglitter @lemon-nomel @almostempty @thundermartini @harriedandharassed @pedrostories

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (prt 7)

Masterpost

Danny was very happy to be dragged around by Damian being introduced to all of his pets, first outside to the barn to meet Bat Cow and his ducks, and the giant weird dragon creature which was so cute!! It was all over Danny too, obviously liked him. Danny had a feeling if he woke up from nightmares or couldn’t sleep he would end up finding his way back to the barn to cuddle up with these animals. At this time of year it would probably be a bit cold and night but the cold never really bothered him and Goliath was warm. 

Then back into the house to meet all of the pets, the dogs, and snakes, and Alfred the cat, and finally a second cat and her kittens. 

“This one is just a foster,” Damian said, sitting on the bed with his legs crossed in a half lotus as Danny sat on the floor next to the box the mama cat was in with her four little ones. Danny felt like he might cry, it was so cute! The mama was a little wary of him but he was easing her way into her trust and good graces.

“Mhm?” Danny sounded, he was listening but he was scared to move since the mama cat was sniffling his fingers.

“I found her while she was heavily pregnant, feral cats usually have kittens in spring, at this time of year they would have been too vulnerable outside. I’ll rehome them when they’re old enough,” Damian explained. “I was glad I got her to trust me enough that I could be present and make sure nothing went wrong while she had the babies.”

Danny held his breath as he tried to pet the cat. The quiet stretching between them until he felt ready to talk without scaring the cat. “Am I your next pregnant stray,” Danny joked.

Damian gave him a guarded look over. “... I have been told humans don’t like being compared to animals,” He said bluntly, and Danny laughed. 

“Ya most don’t. But you take very good care of your animals, when you’re making this comparison, I’m guessing what you’re trying to say is that you’ll do what you can do be here for me and make sure I have what I need for me and the babies to be healthy and safe?” Danny said, giving Damian a fond smile. 

“Yes,” Damian said stiffly. This was why he usually preferred animals, they could read his intentions and didn’t require him to say such embarrassingly vulnerable things. At least Danny was saying them for him so he just had to agree. 

Danny finished petting the cat and moved to sit next to Damian on the bed. “It’s okay Damian, I really appreciate that. I know handling these emotions can be hard, they feel too big for our bodies and they’re hard to express. I’ll let you in on a secret though, they’re more easy to express physically, and I’m not made of glass just because I’m pregnant. We should spar later.”

“Are you formally trained?” Damian asked stiffly. 

“My mother was an expert martial artist and she taught me, but I’m very strong too. I promise you won’t hurt me Damian,” He promised, bumping his shoulder against the kid’s and giving him a smile. 

“Alright, I will go easy on you.” Damian promised, just as stiffly.

“Until I prove you can’t afford to,” Danny joked and Damian scoffed and shoved Danny’s shoulder. “But really, thank you Damian. It means a lot that you and your family are willing to stick your necks out for me like this.” He sighed, if he didn’t know better he might have wished his parents had been the ones to protect and support him like this, but wishes were dangerous things.

“This family is made entirely of strays, tragedy is a prerequisite. You’ll fit right in,” Damian promised before getting up from the bed, apparently that was enough emotion. “Do you want to train now?” he asked looking back at Danny. 

“Sure, I assume this being the home of the bats and birds there’s some sort of training space?” Danny asked getting up from the bed. 

“Yes. This way,” Damian agreed and trotted out of the room with Danny on his heels, making sure to close the door behind him so none of the kittens could wander out. 

--------

Jason took off his helmet and dropped it on the couch with a sigh of relief before wandering back into the kitchen to grab a drink. So what if he was technically still too young for it? He’d done a lot worse just in the last 24 hours then half a glass of scotch. He had been off grid for a couple of days on a mission and had just gotten home. He was exhausted and half of him wanted to have his drink and go to bed, leaving his phone off for another day so he could get a proper rest. 

But he had responsibilities, both to his gang, his turf, and more recently even to his family, so he turned it back on and grimaced when more than a dozen notifications popped up in a row. Damn, something big must have happened while he was gone. Why could there never be just a quiet day around here?!

He opened the most recent message from Bruce that just said; ‘can you call me when you have the chance?’ which made him sigh. But at the same time, it wasn’t urgent, it was ‘when he had a chance’ not immediately or anger about him not answering sooner. So knowing that he scrolled back down to the oldest message so he could get a feel of what was going on.

Cas, 28 hours ago: New brother! 🤗

Oh, well that was a very good start to the context, it seemed that Bruce was in the process of adopting some other poor schmuck. Well, hopefully they’d do better by it then Jason had. And explained why Bruce wanted him to call, he always worried now how Jason would react to new siblings, as if he wasn’t well over that. He’d only been mad about Tim at first but he wasn’t even Really mad at Tim anymore! Ya he felt the urge to attack him regularly, but only the same way Jason did with everyone else in the family now.

Tim 22 hours ago: I’ve got a favour to ask, or maybe a tip for you depending on how much you want to kill someone right now. Vlad Masters brought a pregnant 16 year old to the gala last night. Apparently he’s the baby daddy. 

Oh that had Jason seeing green, his lips pulling back in a silent snarl. That man was good as dead, especially when Jason paused to google him and saw someone who must have been old enough to be the kids Father, if not even grandfather judging by the gray hair! 

Tim 19 hours ago: Don’t rush in! Turns out he’s got superpowers of the magical variety. You’re going to have to prepare for this one, and talk to Danny.

Danny must be the new kid then, the pregnant 16 year old Bruce was no doubt making quick steps to at least foster. Where were the kid’s parents in this? 

Tana 16 hours ago: Please make sure your wards are set up and you have that anti-possession charm we gave you. There is a situation still developing. 

Huh, well, good to know both that she was involved and what sort of powers they might be dealing with. 

Tim 8 hours ago: We have the parents in custody but didn’t have the resources to hold Masters. Danny and his sister are staying at the manor for now. You’ll like her, tough-as-nails red head.

Jason rolled his eyes, he dated one amazon and now everyone thinks the only people he’s into are tough ladies! He likes tough boys too god damn it! Why doesn’t no one get after Dickie about this?! (He knows they do.)

The last text from the family before Bruce’s was one from Damian, which was rare.

Damian: Hello Todd, you should know before you meet him that Danny has also previously died and come back. I believe you and he are quite similar and I do not know if that will mean you get along well or if you will repel one another. You should know that if you hurt him there will be consequences. 

Well wasn’t that just the cutest! Demon brat didn’t usually get attached to new people so soon.

He texted Bruce back: No I will Not call you. But I can be bribed to come for dinner tomorrow if Alfred makes lasagna. 

He checked the messages he had from his lieutenants about business and replied to the ones that needed it. Then the ones from his friends. He was just about to turn his phone off again when he got a text back from Bruce. 

Bruce: Done, we’ll see you tomorrow. I’m sorry Jay.

Well that was ominous. Jason sighed and turned off his phone, setting it down on the coffee table and heading to bed. He needed to fucking sleep. Whatever the hell Bruce was sorry for could wait until tomorrow.

--------

Bruce had asked Jasmine for a copy of her slideshow, and Tim for a copy of his notes and updated the files on Danny, Jasmin, Damian, and Jason. He always felt a bit odd about the files he had on his own children, but they were important! Both because his memory wasn’t infallible and he needed to remember all this, and because if he needed to tell someone about his children quickly it was good to have all that already typed out and ready.

Not he was just sitting at the Bat-Computer, staring at the cover picture of the slide show. All of them were so young, and all dead or irrevocably changed by the actions of adults around them. His goal, all their goals, had always been to make a safer world for children, and everyone but especially children. And every time he was confronted with the abject failure to protect a child it tore at his heart. If he found who had blocked them from contacting the JL he was going to have very strong words with them.

“You can’t save every child Master Bruce,” Alfred said making Bruce jump. He must have been staring at the computer for longer then he realized, to not notice the butler’s approach. “There are billions of people on the planet, you cannot catch every single one, especially the clever ones who hide it well. They’re responsible for the harm they cause, not you for not being able to stop it.”

They’d had this conversation before when Bruce got too hanged up on the people he’d failed. He knew that wallowing didn’t do any good, and depression got in the way of action, but he couldn’t always help it. As hyper-logical as he tried to be to compensate, he was still human, and seeing these things would always hurt.

“It’s not just Danny and Jazz,” Bruce said, rubbing his face. “It’s Jason too, I’m trying to figure out how… how what Jazz said about liminals and ghost changes how I feel about him. She says they can look like their immoral but it’s always amoral, following their obsession. I feel like I failed him that this is how he came back. And I blamed him so much, and put him down so much. She said their obsessions have to be supported, if they don’t indulge in their obsessions they die.

“No wonder he’s reacted so negatively every time I talked to him about this revenge quest, this thing that he’s doing. Now that I know I wonder if we can compromise, if we can’t then what? I don’t know if I can blame him at all for what he’s doing, but I know what he’s doing is wrong. I don’t know what to do Alfred.” Bruce said, rubbing his face hard.

“Well, it sounds to me you’re putting the cart before the horse Master Bruce. You haven’t even spoken to him about it yet, and you haven’t slept in more than 24 hours. Sleep, then talk to him, then you’ll know how worried to actually be,” Alfred advised.

“You’re right, as usual,” Bruce chuckled and got up, shutting down the bat computer. “What would I do without you,” He chuckled, patting Alfred’s shoulder affectionately. 

“I’m sure you’d be just fine,” Alfred said, in a tone that made it clear he was just being polite and a playful twinkle in his eyes that made Bruce laugh. 

“Thank you Alfie. Let’s all get some rest.”

Next

[yvesssssssss]

Things you love about them

(shin, nagumo, heisuke, shishiba, kanaguri, gaku, uzuki, seba)

Shin Asakura – The Way He Listens Intently

Shin could easily read your mind, but he doesn’t. Instead, he listens, fully present in every conversation. He remembers things you mentioned in passing, bringing them up later in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. His ability to anticipate what you need—before you even say it—makes you feel truly understood.

"I can hear your thoughts, but I'd rather hear your voice."

Other Things You Love About Him:

• The way his brows furrow when he’s concentrating

• How he instinctively moves to shield you in a fight.

• The rare moments he lets loose and actually laughs.

Nagumo – His Playful Teasing

Nagumo is an expert at pushing your buttons. He leans in close just to see you fluster, steals your food mid-bite, and smirks when you try to get back at him. But when you’re upset or in danger, his teasing disappears—replaced by a sharp, protective edge that reminds you just how capable he is.

"I mess with you because it’s fun. They mess with you, and it’s a problem."

Other Things You Love About Him:

• The way his eyes flicker with amusement when he catches you staring.

• How effortlessly he takes down enemies, never losing his grin.

• That one time he got serious and kissed you without warning.

Shishiba – His Unwavering Support

Shishiba is a man of few words, but his actions make up for it. He notices the small things—when you’re tired, when something’s bothering you—and fixes it before you even ask. His reliability makes you feel safe, like no matter what happens, he’ll be there.

"No need to thank me. It’s just what I do."

Other Things You Love About Him:

• How he always makes sure you walk on the safer side of the road.

• The rare but heart-melting moments when he lets you win an argument.

• The way he casually places a hand on your back, guiding you through a crowd.

Heisuke Mashimo – His Thoughtful Gestures

Heisuke might be a little awkward, but he makes up for it with kindness. He notices when you’re cold and wordlessly hands you his jacket. He picks up on the smallest details, like your favorite snack or the way you like your tea. He’s the kind of guy who will stay up late just to make sure you got home safe.

"You looked cold, so… here. You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to."

Other Things You Love About Him:

• The way he blushes when he realizes he’s been staring at you too long.

• How he gets uncharacteristically confident when handling a sniper rifle.

• That one time he tried to impress you and ended up embarrassing himself (adorably).

Gaku – His Fierce Protectiveness

Gaku is reckless, unpredictable, and an absolute force of nature. But when it comes to you, he’s surprisingly careful. If someone so much as looks at you the wrong way, he’s cracking his knuckles, ready to throw hands. And when he pulls you close after a fight, panting and grinning like a maniac? Yeah, good luck keeping your heart in check.

"Relax, I got you. No one’s stupid enough to mess with you when I’m here."

Other Things You Love About Him:

• The way his eyes light up when he’s in battle mode.

• How he scoffs at romance but secretly loves when you touch his hair.

• That one time he almost broke a guy’s arm just for making you uncomfortable.

Kanaguri – His Artistic Passion

Kanaguri is dramatic in the best way possible. He makes even mundane moments feel grand, spinning you into his cinematic world. He loves the way you move, the way you laugh, the way your eyes catch the light. To him, you’re the masterpiece he’s been searching for.

"Ah, perfection! That was a scene worth capturing… Shall we go for another take?"

Other Things You Love About Him:

• How he always looks at you like you’re the star of his favorite film.

• The way he hums when he’s deep in thought, framing a ‘shot’ with his fingers.

• That one time he lifted you into a dip mid-kiss, as if reenacting a movie scene.

Uzuki – His Gentle Curiosity

Uzuki is quiet, but when he speaks, every word holds weight. He asks questions no one else thinks to ask, peeling back the layers of who you are. And when he remembers the tiny details you’ve shared—things even you forgot? It’s enough to make your heart ache.

"Tell me more. I want to understand everything about you."

Other Things You Love About Him:

• The way he tilts his head slightly when he’s intrigued.

• How his voice softens when he’s talking to you.

• That one time he called you ‘important’ and looked away like he regretted saying it out loud.

Natsuki Seba – His Easygoing Confidence

Seba has a charm that’s impossible to ignore. He’s relaxed, always going with the flow, but sharp enough to notice when something’s off. He makes everything feel effortless—whether it’s guiding you through a tough situation or flashing a lazy grin that makes your stomach flip.

"No need to stress, I got you. Just follow my lead."

Other Things You Love About Him:

• The way he casually throws an arm around you like it’s second nature.

• How he’s always one step ahead, even when it looks like he’s slacking.

• That one time he pulled you into a dance out of nowhere, just to make you laugh.

[clockworksoulx]

Updated designs for these guys!

Here’s some Ideas/Headcanons I have for the tribes:

For all tribes:

-they don’t use any weapons outside of daggers maybe (bro you’re a quadrupedal creature, using a spear or sword or bow is not gonna work how you want it to, and you have claws and teeth plus fire or venom??? You have weapons built in bro) it just looks dumb to me, like what are you doing.

-Dragons Never stop growing like crocs

SkyWings:

-Most aggressive and bad tempered but not unfairly so, they don’t trust strangers and are much less friendly out of caution.

-prefer poultry and red meat, fish not so much, they also like to smoke their meat for special events.

-Hatchlings are capable of flying and breathing fire within a few months of their lives, quicker than most other tribes.

-their horns are the longest of any tribe and they take great pride in them, most (especially nobles) adorning them with jewelry.

-when on the ground they sometimes use their wings as extra arms, holding onto something for example.

-they are the best blacksmiths out of tribes, their craftsmanship is respected even amongst other tribes.

-they are almost completely fireproof, which is why they rely on their teeth and claws when fighting amongst themselves, their flames range is also the furthest and they can breathe fire the longest without stopping.

-Firescales have to touch another Skywing for a longer time to do damage.

-they have the best endurance when it comes to flying and they are also the fastest. They hold annual races.

-like birds of prey, they have insanely good eyes. They can see the furthest out of all tribes.

-during the before mentioned races they paint their wings with cool patterns just like they do during war, however the patterns are different, the Warpaint pattern is darker and rougher.

-their teeth are similar to that of medium to large theropods, they rely mostly on their fire an less on their bite as it’s a bit lower due to their longer necks.

-their eggs are white and long. Usually only laying one per clutch.

SeaWings:

-relatively sociable, suspicious at first but especially once they get to know you they act like they never had a problem with you in the first place.

-obviously they prefer fish but also crustaceans and other sea creatures, SeaWings living more up north, hunt seals.

-second strongest bite force, also their main weapon.

-very round scales and thick skin.

-Hatchlings need to stay underwater for the first few months of their lives as their lungs finish developing.

-Short but very curvy horns, their "whiskers" vary severely between individuals.

-their glowscales vary in size and sometimes even in quantity, I think they use them mostly region-wise (face, tail for example) and then by how often they flicker (like morse code maybe?).

-Most of their jewelry consists of seashells and pearls, but also of platinum and Gold.

-they are expert tattoo artists (just like sandwings) and they take pride in their underwater murals.

-their sails/frills also vary a lot, there are several variants, some more wavy.

-Seawing families living in colder water up north have developed a bit of blubber over the generations.

-they have pharyngeal jaws (like sharks), their teeth are also a bit more flat like most sharks.

-Medium to large in size. (Everything in the ocean is big so why not)

-their eggs are round, a bit reflective and darker shades. SeaWings may lay up to 5 eggs per clutch but usually ist between 2 and 3.

Sandwings:

-small to medium in size.

-amicable tribe, they often help dragons stranded in the desert.

-they have the second most fire resistant scales, while hotter fire and longer exposure will do eventually do damage getting blasted for a bit does nothing.

-they have keen senses, their sense of hearing and smell being the best.

-they can go without eating or drinking for weeks without issue.

-they have naturally warmer scales (like Skywings do).

-Sandwings love jewelry and accessories in general, they like decorating themselves with all kinds of stuff, like tattoos and piercings.

-Hatchlings hatch with more pronounced markings (like lion cubs), sometimes they stay that prominent even into adulthood.

-sandwing eggs are dark in color, Sandwings lay up to 2 in a clutch.

-sails are unique and every Sandwing looks different, they like to adorn them with piercings and other accessories.

-they also like to take sun naps, not nearly as long or often as Rainwings but they enjoy the sun.

-rely mostly on their barbs but also claws and teeth when fighting, less so fire.

Leafwings:

-Medium to large, (trees can get real big)

-eggs are long and pale. They may lay up to 3 eggs a clutch.

-omnivorous but mainly meat, fruits and vegetables are usually just a side dish or snack.

-their scales change to duller hues in during winter, patterns stay the same though.

-hatchlings are pale and only get more saturated if exposed to sun, like rainwings.

-they have lots of golden accessories along with colorful cloths and gemstones.

-leading tribe in toxicology, they know their plants and how to use em, and they love their spices.

-they have the second longest tail of all tribes and like Rainwings use them to hold onto branches when perched in Trees.

-while they are typically shades of Green or Brown/Orange, they may also have accents of all kinds of colors to varying degrees.

-they have Treehouses but also build stone temples, their Royal Palace is a rather large one with large gardens.

Silkwings:

-all silkwings have "fur" but some have less and some have more, typically it’s a line down their spine to their tail tip.

-they are omnivorous, mainly eating fruits and the like, but every now and then they will eat meat to balance out their diet.

-they have the shortest claws out of all tribes, which makes sewing and the like much easier for them, which it’s why it’s what most Silkwings do as a job.

-their wings patterns and shape is their most unique feature, they are also relatively quiet during flight.

-while Silkwings are typically very colorful they may have black accents (almost every butterfly has black so how tf are the butterfly dragons not gonna have some)

-they have the weakest biteforce, and rather weak claws, they are naturally pacifists.

-Silkwings have long thin tongues, cuz why not.

-it’s common for Silkwings to braid and generally style their hair, adding cuffs and other things like hair clips.

-they also have relatively weak scales, they’re a rather weak tribe, but flamesilks are about as fire resistant as Sandwings.

-eggs are small and round, per clutch it’s usually 3-4.

Rainwings:

-laziness is not normal, before the main story Rainwings were much more active and kept track of their eggs

-eggs are round and small, very similar to snake eggs, 2 max per clutch.

-Rainwings are the second smallest tribe.

-their frills are essentially and extension of their ears.

-they require meat at least 3-4 times a week.

-only tribe, aside from Hivewings, to have fangs.

-their jewelry consists of flowers, gemstones and feathers mainly, but cloth is also often used.

-longest tail out of all tribes, parents sometimes carry hatchlings with them.

-shorter horns, usually curvy.

-scales get duller with age, and elder ones change scale color less.

-very curved claws to help em climb, also useful when hunting.

-Short wings like harpy eagles so flying through trees is easier.

-eyecolor cannot change neither can the horns nor claws or mouth.

-the older the individual the duller the scale color.

Mudwings:

-largest tribe, also strongest tribe.

-due to needing to have a higher body temp to be able to breathe fire, they rely on teeth, claws and overall strength.

-strongest bite force, one bite can amputate a leg with ease.

-they may have different variants of tusks, male typically have larger ones.

-slowest flyers, the prefer the ground.

-Fire is more magma like, more liquidity.

-the usually have 2 sets of horns, 1 large and 1 small.

-eggs are large and typically tan to dark brown with spots, 6 eggs per clutch sometimes even 8.

-younger individuals are typically kinder, and more likely to help.

-they have shorter but incredibly strong tails.

-wings are more round in shape, and are used as extra legs sometimes.

-require a lot of meat, all different kinds, prefer red.

-jewelry usually consists of different kinds of metals and such, imbedded with gemstones and old tusks.

-mudwings love play-fighting and sparring and will do so often with their siblings, very good fighters.

Nightwings:

-strong bite, maybe 3rd strongest.

-more nocturnal, but are perfectly functional during the day.

-their flames have tints of different colors, unique to every individual.

-some have more star scales than others, depending on how starry the night was when they hatched.

-strong sense of smell and very good eyesight.

-veils, and a bunch of jewelry imbedded with gems and crystals, they like their silver and gold.

-eggs are oval and black with hints of different colors.

-their wings have accents of different colors at the edges or in the middle, usually the brightest part of their body.

-Fire is very Smokey, their range isn’t that far either but it’s the second hottest fire.

-typically only 1 egg per clutch, 2 is rare.

-Mindreaders will have one teardrop scale for each moon they were born under, so all 3 would be 6.

-Prophets will have one starscale on their forehead for each moon they were born under, all 3 would be 3.

-padded feet like t-rex makes them quite even on the ground.

Icewings:

-blood varies from violet to more turquoise on the spectrum.

-claws are long and curved for extras grip but instead of be serrated, it’s their feet that are.

-the older the individual the more spines the will have.

-prefer to eat fish, but often eat red meat as well.

-eggs are long and white. Typically 1-2 per clutch.

-furs, silver and platinum are often seen, but royals will wear gold.

-teeth are long and thin, very similar to orcas.

-spines start growing along the horns as well, making them look similar to antlers.

-they are almost completely frostproof, as in, they cannot be hurt by frostbreath, or hypothermia.

-Frostscales are a thing, essentially the same as Firescales but frosty.

-about as trusting as Skywings, they are not particularly respectful either until you earn their respect.

-Medium to large in size, they grow incredibly large.

Hivewings:

-venom is more similar to Sandwing venom, and all of them have fangs and a barb, the strength of the venom varies though.

-most agile flyers, maybe even second in speed.

-teeth are thin and needle-like, the rely on their venom to weaken their opponents.

-piercings and warm colored Jewelry are a must, usually imbedded with ambers and other similar stones.

-loud during flight.

-blood is dark, almost black.

-eggs are oval and black, typically 1-2 eggs per clutch.

-very curved claws, good for holding onto things, for climbing too.

I may add some more as I come up with it!

[hanihaato]

a/n: jealousy themes, yandere sunday x reader, mentions of abduction, incapacitation, drabble

Your artistic silence is broken with a snap of fingers and a question.

“Now, who is that man?”

Before the vision disappears, you have a split second to admire your efforts. Your skills have improved over the last three hours where Sunday had left your dreamscape to attend to some urgent and questionable matters.

This time, you have delved into the concept of imaginary creations that followed your newfound belief that even in this kind of twisted dream, deliberately manipulated by Sunday, you could still treat it like… a dream.

Do wonders. Keep yourself occupied to take care of your sanity.

The man you’ve created doesn’t have a name as you don’t recognize him. Maybe he was your own creation, or maybe he was one of the countless tourists at Reverie Hotel whose face you’ve been fortunate to remember. He would have made for a much more entertaining company than Sunday is, especially as he presses his lips into a thin line and looks disappointed in you.

“A secret boyfriend. We were planning to elope tonight, before you…” The story cuts short, as Sunday closes his eyes and sighs heavily, as if dealing with a troublesome kid. You take the warning and end your joke here, but because you know you have the privilege to as his beloved, you pout at him. “Alright. I was bored. Happy now? I thought you said I can do whatever I want here. Well, you keep calling it my dreamscape, after all.”

Sunday sits you down on a sofa that materializes within a blink of an eye. It’s another reminder you’re not in Penacony; there, nothing like that could happen, as it’s a dream with rules you are bound to obey. But at least there, you could understand its mechanism as it was created to mimic the real world.

‘Your’ dreamscape was solely ruled by Sunday’s whims.

You fall on a stack of heavenly puffy cushions, with his arm draped around your waist.

“Dearest. It’s our dream. This fantasy wouldn’t exist without any of us,” Sunday promptly corrects you and smiles gently at your irate gaze. “Believe me, I wholeheartedly would love to give you a fair share of power over this place, but it would be a bit dangerous to someone not practised in lucid dreaming.”

If you didn’t exceed his tolerance for defiance for today, you would have hit him with one of the pillows. Instead, you sink yourself deeper into them.

“Alright, then… What do I have to do to be classified as experienced? As far as I am aware, spending a whole three months in a dream should have made me an expert.”

“That’s a lovely conclusion. But does spending time in a library make you able to get a degree in every subject that’s written in the books?”

The question silences you. The break is long enough for Sunday to design your surroundings: a coffee table that matches the times, a porcelain tea set with golden details and some infusion with fascinating taste. They go with a tray of cookies and little sandwiches, as well as a bowl of fruits and nuts that would taste better if they were real.

However, you have to do with what you have on your hands.

You bite into a biscuit. “Then, what should I do? To be adept enough, that is.”

“There are many other requirements…” He falls into a reverie, and just as you think he closes the topic—you’ve been willing to give it up at this point, solely for the quiet to continue—Sunday speaks again. “If you can wake up on your own or overwrite any of the aspects of this dream, for example, gravity, I will consider giving you a little more power here.”

So, he’s asking you for the impossible.

“…I won’t be wiping myself out only for you to ‘consider’.”

Sunday takes a sip of tea. The porcelain can’t hide a tenderish smile, but the unexplainable gleam in his eyes is exposed.

“There is always a shortcut.”

“That doesn’t, um, doom me for eternity?”

“Yes. If I have a say in this, it’s a very delightful one.” And after the next sentence, you know why he’s so engaged in this discussion. “Marrying me.”

…

Sighing, you cross your arms and shake off Sunday’s arm from your shoulder. “I thought you hated liars.”

“Which part of what I said do you consider a lie?”

You ignore him and get up from the sofa, heading towards the big door. Sunday might have changed the look of the place, but the layout always remains the same. Behind that door, you will find a short hall that leads to several other rooms that don’t have Sunday in them and so are preferred.

“I don’t want to talk (to you) anymore, sorry,” you mutter out the apology just to defend yourself if Sunday was going to accuse you of being rude. “I am going to daydream—dreamdream?—about, I guess, men, if I can’t have anyone here. Goodbye.”

You reach for the pair of doors and find them uncharacteristically too heavy. You try to open the door, but just then a big silver chain crosses over their handles, a small lock appears, but you don’t have time to notice the details as you find yourself staring into a plain wall.

“Now, no need to rush,” Sunday purrs, and you turn around to see your beloved doors behind his back. “Would you like to play a round or two with me? I think we could have a wonderful conversation about how to pry the imaginary door locks and who are the people you’ve been thinking about so much.” He smiles. “All with names and examples. There shouldn’t be any secrets between us, isn’t that so?”

[maybe-boys-do-love]

The people want to know more about PoonFluke! Would you care to give us a run-down on why you believe they are not so secretly dating? I imagine you have more receipts saved than I do and I feel like I should defer to the expert 🙇‍♀️

Listen.

Poon Mitpakdee and Fluke Nattanon might just be besties. The best of besties. Who are together all the time, but for some reason don’t acknowledge major life events for each other, despite doing it for others?

Now, before I begin this long ass post, just know that I generally try to follow the rule that only the info they make public through their social media and at public events is game to share, so all that I’ve gathered is from their social media and two ghost shippers on TikTok who kept track and compiled some of their posts since early on. And I haven’t ever stumbled across much PoonFluke content that didn’t follow those guidelines anyways.

Without further ado, here are some facts for people to decide for themselves.

THE START

Poon and Fluke were both announced as official GMMTV artists at the 2024 preview event “Up and Above” in October, 2023. They’re not photographed at the event together nor do they have posts up with each other on their timelines on any social media before that. There’s a comment on a Reddit post about them that says they’re “university mates” but they attended different faculties under different schools. As you’ll see by the absence of existing content pre-gmmtv era, if they did know each other before, they either never posted about it or have since deleted those posts.

Their first post on either of their timelines tagged together comes out on Poon’s TikTok on December 12th, 2023:

He posted the 3 failed attempts at this tiktok challenge, as well (which he hasn’t done for any other of his posts) and you can see a friend with them, who to my eyes appears to be Poon’s lawyer friend with the most beautiful eyebrows who’s handle is anpantann on insta. Apparently there were more vids and angles of PoonFluke’s attempts at this challenge posted previously, since the lone ghostshipper made a compilation.

They also post together with anpantann on twitter for the first time that December after having interactions that began in November. Their first post on insta together happens that December, too, with Fluke posting on the 3rd a pic of his food with Poon in the background with his face blocked (but the hat is recognizable if u follow Poon).

HOWEVER

In November, 2023 Fluke attended Poon’s graduation, brought him a teddy bear gift (if you’re into the deep PoonFluke lore you’ll want to remember that detail), and took pics with him one-on-one. It was an open event that Poon invited all his fans to. Joong came, too, for example, and did a TikTok vid that Poon has posted on his timeline, yet neither Poon nor Fluke have their meet-up from the day posted on their socials?

I mention the teddy bear because another tiktok user compiled an…interesting use of the teddy bear emoji in their posts around this time, and you’ll notice a solo birthday shoot from Fluke in September, 2023 where he has a teddy bear cake, contrasting with his birthday friend event from a few days before. There are also so bear socks and bear shirts that weave their way through their photos. But like, teddy bears are everywhere and Thailand’s biggest celebrity mascot is a teddy bear, so I take that all with a grain of salt.

A more compelling parallel is Poon and Fluke’s posts on August 27th and 28th, 2023 respectively. Poon posts himself holding a bouquet at night while he does his lovestruck stagger and Fluke posts himself wandering the booths at a temple fair on what appears to be a date (based on the vibe and soundtrack). Could be a coincidence 🤷🏻‍♀️

How They’re Doing Now

Poon and Fluke are together all the time. That’s facts. They’re often together and posting it. They’re often together and not posting about it. They’re together enough that Marc looks to a blushing Poon as he clarifies which Fluke at GMMTV he’s naming in a We Are promotional tour game. It’s about at 2:10 in this vid. Thank you @fuck-i-like-too-much-stuff for bringing this up!

They do lil’ comedy tiktoks and dance challenges together. They do livestreams at 1am together. They go on late night walks together. They hang out with friends together. They support each others work on their socials. Fluke and Ford brought Poon a cake on his birthday while he was on the set of Sweet Tooth Good Dentist.

They often have meal dates with friends, and seem to come as a pair, like their dinner date with professional third-wheeler Joong or their most recent dinner with Fluke Jeeratch which they posted on their stories (no link at this time. Sorry).

They aren’t posting pics of eating meals alone together as often, but Ford exposed them jokingly for sending him pics of their dessert when they were out to eat together without him.

They’ve been tight with Ford as well as Aungpao since they started at GMMTV, and you’ll often see one of them each post a picture with one member of that crew on the same day but not post each other there, which is…curious. You’ll notice them doing this with their friend groups outside of gmmtv, too.

And now you might’ve noticed we’re getting into the territory that’s beyond what we get to see on their feeds. I personally think there’s some truth to what Krist said in a live recently about the real couples standing far apart in pics, although I’m pretty sure he was just referring to the ridiculous fan-made mathematical angle meme of Sky-Nani at the all-staff GMMTV meeting, and even then we have to exclude some codependents and married couples as statistical anomalies.

Once you start looking at Poon and Fluke in their group outing pics in the past year, you’ll always find one or two people between them, which is strange considering they don’t seem to hide that their spending all their time together otherwise. They also sometimes do the virtual form of standing on the other side of the room by going to the same location but taking pics alone and posting said pics on separate days, one instance of which, as @doublel27 my coconspirator in observing all of this pointed out to me, happened literally WHILE I was writing this up! Look through for yourself if ur really invested and lmk instances you notice cuz I really can’t be bothered to actually go back and forth, I just catch it every once in a while since I’ve been following them. Some are obvious, but I’m also of the persuasion that the location for their Valentine’s Day posts looks like the same location with different enough areas as to not be clocked.

Other times they are hanging together and post it in their story but don’t tag each other. The nature of those story posts—often not showing the other person’s face and more spontaneous—remind me of some infamous EarthMix events where Earth gets caught through sneezes or feet in the hanging in the background of the frame hanging out Mix’s place during live zoom interviews. It’s the lack of intention that shines for me in an industry built on intentional fanservice. My personal favorite instance of PoonFluke’s untagged photos is one of the few stories that I saved myself. I’m not a receipt collector, just an observer, but Fluke posting a pic of someone holding their phone with their feet made me instantly think of Poon’s zaniness. Lo and behold, if you check the ring on the finger, it matches both the finger and the only ring, a claddagh ring (an Irish ring symbolizing love, loyalty, and friendship), Poon seems to wear.

That post arrived a few weeks after a period of relative radio silence between them on socials in January and February this year while Poon was promoting his film “Happy Mondays,” which makes me question the contracted regulations for the actors’ socials during the promotion. Fluke also didn’t post any congrats or photos about the film’s premiere, but Joong, their mutual friends, and fans at the event recorded that Fluke was there and even brought the orange flower garland for Poon, which Poon reposted in his photoset of the premiere. The FlukePoon pieces are buried beneath selfies with no one-on-ones, and you can catch Fluke adjusting the garland in multiple shots of the vid compilation. I just find it weird to be so obviously close but then not acknowledge it during the big life events 🤷🏻‍♀️

Like, Fluke also graduated during this period, and Poon um… never acknowledged it? nor do we have any pics of Poon at the open fan event for it? Then the day after the premiere and presumably the end of the promotional tour, they post a tiktok together. And it just seems a little sus to me??

I think probably the weirdest fact is that Fluke apparently has a Poon bobble head on the dash of his car? This vid was posted on twitter in September, 2024. As far as the caption, there’s been an ongoing joke of Fluke teasingly calling Poon uncle when he doesn’t show, apparently??? and Poon also has an alternate ego that’s an aunt as well that only Fluke knows about?)

Weirder still is that Poon came back to comment on the bobble head post 7 months after it was originally posted?? He wrote, “The mountain is finished” seemingly to comment on Fluke’s graduation from college—WHICH MAKES IT THE ONLY ACKNOWLEDGEMENT POON MAKES PUBLICLY ABOUT FLUKE’S GRADUATION, AND IT’S THREE MONTHS AFTER HE GRADUATED????

Again, they could be besties who keep certain parts of their friendship private, or besties who are so close they just don’t even think to share their time together or their big achievements. Who am I to say?

I just like them as actors. I’m happy for them if they’re happy, whether their dating or not, whether their in CPs with others or each other. I’m here for a group of happiness and chaos and not a group of drama as Tay says. Personally, the signs point to dating for me, but I’m happy to stand corrected if I see they’re not pointing in that direction.

You might’ve noticed that I don’t discuss any skinship evidence, and that’s because I honestly don’t think many fans have a great eye for what constitutes the kind of touching that couples actually do because they just want to see heat. But I think boys should be able to touch boys affectionately without us getting weird about it. Meanwhile, I’m here screaming into my pillow for gestures of domestic familiarity and playful bickering.

PoonFluke just don’t have a lot of examples of touch that they’re sharing online or doing at public events. But I’ll leave everyone off with the one example we have from February in 2024, and you can let your nasty little shipper hearts (affectionate) go wild as long as you’re not hateful about it.

[imaginedreamwrite]

Ok hear me out, artist!reader makes a painting of the 141 for John to have in his office, just think it could be such a sweet and tender moment. Maybe it’s a birthday gift and the rest of the boys are in on the surprise, help sneak her into base without price knowing so she can hang it up in his office and be there to celebrate.

I need your help sneaking onto base to give John a gift

Why not, I got nothin’ better to do

The initial message and response is on your phone, and you glance at it while you wait for your escort onto base. The distraction is in place, and you’re simply wishing for Gaz or Soap to come and help guide you to John’s office.

You’d been planning this for weeks, putting hours of hard work into crafting a hand painted canvas of John. You loved painting, you loved creating things with your hands, and John loved watching you work. For John’s birthday you painted a portrait of him to hang in his office, only now you had to sneak it in.

“Coast is clear,” Soap appeared from around the corner, eagerly helping the Captain’s pretty bird especially since you seemed to ease his grouchiness, “he’s gonna be busy for a while.”

“What did you do?” You stared at Johnny, speculating what the demolition expert could have cooked up for your boyfriend.

“What didn’t I do?” Soap grinned and grabbed the top of the wrapped canvas, helping you carry it regardless of how light it actually was. “Cap’n might be a little pissed-“

“Johnny.” You felt like John, scolding his men like they were his own. “You didn’t-”

“Come on, lassie. It’ll be fine.” Soap brushes your concern off and escorts you through the maze like base, darting in and out of buildings and hallways to avoid being caught. “This way.”

You follow him until you arrive at the office of your devoted partner, your own eagerness almost transcending your patience. You wanted him to see it now, not in an hour.

“Help me put it up.” You crack open the door and slip in, Soap following you, and once you’re in, the door shuts behind you both. “Behind his desk?”

“Aye, that’ll work.” Johnny now follows your lead, as you step toward the desk and then around it, analyzing the wall for the perfect spot.

Johnny and you are quickly joined by Gaz that brings in the supplies you need, tools to hang the picture and some things for John’s surprise. Between Johnny and Gaz the canvas you created for your future husband is perfect—hanging on the wall in a centred position.

“There.” You step back and clap your hands together, pleased with the placement and the work itself. “Okay, let’s get this going.”

You don’t have much time to react, you don’t have. While lot of preparation before John arrives—sooner than expected. You position yourself on the desk, sitting on the edge with your arms folded. You wait until he enters the office and the door’s shut before he really notices you.

You and the men he leads, standing in his office wishing.

“Happy birthday!” You all catch him off guard and you know John wants to scowl and grumble about his birthday, but he can’t.

Not when his eyes flit away from you and land on the canvas you painted. It’s detailed to the point of almost looking like a photograph, and you know John admires the work. Though he’s silent now, the corner of his lips twitch.

“Darlin’,” John steps toward you, reaching for your hips to lift you from the desk, holding you securely when you wrap your arms around his waist, “what’ve I told you about painting my old mug-”

“You’re not old.” You scold him and lean down, kissing him lightly before you’re interrupted by a series of groans from the soldiers you both forget are here.

“Happy birthday, Cap’n.” Gaz raised an energy drink in place of champagne or a beer, and someone snaps a photo before he can avoid it. “Next one’s retirement-”

“Watch it Garrick.” John shoots a glare toward Gaz as he still balances you against him, though his attention quickly falls back to you. “Thank you, luv. You made these old bones feel young-”

“You’re not old!” You scold him, again, and silence him with a kiss—one that makes the other men in the room quickly take their leave because they know what’s gonna happen.

[fioredeciliego]

Sweet like Sin (Extras) - Kim Minji x Fem!Reader

a/n: sooo i really liked this fanfic, and i already miss it:( so here are a few gag reels!

--

Y/N takes Minji to volunteer, hoping it’ll be a straightforward way for her to practice kindness.

Y/N: handing Minji a ladle “Just serve the soup. That’s all you have to do.”

Minji: enthusiastically “You got it, boss!”

Minji accidentally tilts the pot too far, sending soup splashing across the counter.

Minji: holding up the empty pot “Well, at least no one’s hungry anymore!”

Y/N: groaning “Minji, no one even got a bowl yet!”

Minji: grinning sheepishly “Oops?”

--

Y/N decides Minji might connect with the gentleness of animals.

Y/N: watching Minji pet a baby goat “See? This isn’t so bad. Just be gentle.”

Minji: nodding “I’m always gentle!”

The goat suddenly nibbles on Minji’s hair, startling her.

Minji: flailing “Ah! It’s eating me!”

Her wings flap in panic, causing a nearby chicken to squawk and scatter. This sets off a chain reaction of chaos.

Y/N: dodging a stampede of farm animals “Minji! What did you do?!”

Minji: standing in the middle of the mess, holding the goat protectively “I think I made a new friend?”

--

Y/N thinks a group painting session will let Minji’s creativity shine.

Y/N: demonstrating “Okay, just dip your brush in the paint and add your part to the mural.”

Minji: excitedly dipping her brush “Got it!”

She accidentally flings paint behind her, splattering the nearby artists.

Minji: whipping around to apologize, sending even more paint flying “Oh no, I’m so sorry!”

Y/N: now covered in paint “Minji, please stop moving!”

Minji: freezing, looking down at the paintbrush in her hand “Does this mean I’m not getting an A for effort?”

--

Y/N suggests Minji hand out balloons to cheer up the kids.

Y/N: handing Minji the balloon bouquet “Just walk around and hand these out. No flying, no stunts.”

Minji: saluting dramatically “Yes, ma’am!”

Minji trips over her own feet, releasing the balloons, which drift toward the ceiling.

Minji: looking up “Well, uh... at least the ceiling looks happier?”

Y/N: facepalming “Why did I think this would be simple?”

--

Minutes after Minji receives her halo.

Minji: poking at her new halo “So, uh... how do you keep this thing from falling off?”

Y/N: sighing “It doesn’t fall off. It’s literally a part of you.”

Minji: leaning too far forward, her halo slipping and wobbling “Then why does it feel like it’s about to fall—oops!”

The halo tumbles off Minji’s head and lands in the stream, causing a splash.

Y/N: pinching the bridge of her nose “Only you, Minji. Only you.”

Minji: grinning sheepishly “Guess I’m a work in progress?”

Y/N: sighing but smiling “Always.”

--

Minji decides to cook dinner for Y/N to show her gratitude.

Minji: wearing an apron that says “Kiss the Cook” “I’m going to make the best meal you’ve ever had!”

Y/N: sitting cautiously at the table “I’m terrified but also impressed by your enthusiasm.”

Minji accidentally turns the stove too high, causing flames to leap up from the pan.

Minji: panicking, grabbing a pot lid “Is this supposed to happen?!”

Y/N: rushing over “No, it’s not supposed to happen!”

After extinguishing the fire, Y/N surveys the smoke-filled kitchen and the ruined meal.

Minji: offering Y/N a charred piece of toast with puppy-dog eyes “Still romantic, right?”

Y/N: taking the toast with a sigh “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

--

Minji insists on giving Y/N a ride through the skies to impress her.

Minji: smirking “Hop on. I’m an expert at this.”

Y/N: nervously climbing onto Minji’s back “If we crash, I’m revoking your flight privileges forever.”

Minji takes off but wobbles as she tries to do a fancy loop. They narrowly avoid colliding with a cloud of angelic doves.

Y/N: clutching Minji tightly “Watch out! That was someone’s choir practice!”

Minji: laughing nervously “Okay, so maybe I’m almost an expert.”

Y/N: reluctantly laughing as they land safely “You’re a menace, but that was... kind of fun.”

--

Minji challenges Y/N to a game of angelic trivia, confident she’ll win despite her lack of celestial knowledge.

Y/N: reading a question “What’s the primary duty of a seraphim?”

Minji: with over-the-top confidence “Uh, setting stuff on fire? They have so many wings; they probably need to do something cool.”

Y/N: laughing uncontrollably “That’s... not even remotely close.”

Minji pouts as Y/N racks up more points, eventually flipping the board in mock frustration.

Minji: dramatically “This game is rigged!”

Y/N: teasing “Maybe if you studied instead of trying to cheat, you’d actually win.”

Minji: leaning closer with a sly smile “Or maybe I just wanted to see you laugh like that.”

--

Minji convinces Y/N to teach her an angelic waltz.

Y/N: leading Minji through the steps “One, two, three. One, two, three. See? Not so hard.”

Minji: accidentally stepping on Y/N’s foot “Oops! Uh... graceful like a swan?”

Y/N: wincing “More like a duck on roller skates.”

Minji spins Y/N too forcefully, and they both tumble to the ground in a heap, laughing breathlessly.

Minji: still holding Y/N’s hand “I think we nailed it.”

Y/N: smiling despite herself “You’re impossible.”

--

Minji tosses Y/N’s halo into the air like a frisbee, despite Y/N’s protests.

Y/N: chasing after it “Minji, stop throwing my—oh no!”

The halo gets stuck on a tree branch. Minji tries to retrieve it but accidentally knocks the entire branch down instead.

Minji: sheepishly handing the halo back “Good news: I got it down! Bad news: that tree might need a little help.”

Y/N: taking the halo with an exasperated smile “You’re lucky you’re adorable.”

--

Minji spots a line of angels gracefully sliding down a rainbow bridge for fun and decides to join in.

Minji: excitedly “This is going to be epic!”

She dives headfirst but slides too fast, knocking over three angels like bowling pins before landing in a fluffy cloud.

Y/N: arriving breathlessly “What did I say about blending in?”

Minji: popping her head out of the cloud, grinning “I did blend in—just... dynamically!”

Y/N: facepalming “You’re a celestial hazard.”

--

Minji volunteers to sing in the heavenly choir, claiming she has a “demonically good” voice.

Choir Leader: politely “Follow my lead, and keep it soft and harmonious.”

Minji belts out a dramatic rock rendition of the hymn, complete with air guitar motions. The other angels look horrified.

Y/N: yanking her off the stage “What part of angelic choir did you misunderstand?”

Minji: shrugging “I thought it needed some... spice?”

Y/N: sighing “You’re banned from music practice forever.”

--

Minji finds a group of cherubs playing a game with halos and decides to show off her “skills.”

Minji: grabbing a halo “Watch and learn, kiddos!”

She attempts a trick shot, tossing the halo into the air, but it ricochets off a harp, bounces into a fountain, and lands on Y/N’s head.

Y/N: deadpan “Impressive aim.”

Minji: proudly “See? I’m a natural!”

Cherubs: cheering “Do it again!”

Y/N: groaning “Please don’t.”

--

Minji discovers a pile of angel feathers meant for crafting and starts a playful pillow fight with the angels nearby.

Minji: hurling a fluffy handful at Y/N “You’re going down!”

Y/N: dodging “Minji, this is not a—”

Before she can finish, Minji slips on the feathers, sending both herself and the pile flying. She ends up sprawled on the floor, covered in white fluff.

Y/N: trying not to laugh “Congratulations. You’ve invented angel snow angels.”

Minji: making one “I think I nailed it.”

--

Minji insists on sliding down the golden staircase like a kid at a waterpark.

Y/N: arms crossed “Minji, you’re supposed to walk gracefully.”

Minji: already halfway down, yelling “Too late!”

She crashes into a group of dignified seraphim at the bottom, who glare at her in disapproval.

Minji: dusting herself off, sheepish “Uh, first-time slider privileges?”

Y/N: apologizing profusely to the seraphim “I don’t know her.”

Minji: grinning at Y/N “Oh, you definitely know me.”

[feyascorner]

11 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. In his honest opinion, the artist who drew your portrait should be fired, even if he’s no expert in the arts. Your softer features are far too sharp, and your sharper features are far too soft, in what he supposes is an effort to ‘enhance’ your appearance, but now it just looks plain uncanny. They also forgot to take into account the scars of battle on your skin, a part of your hair that he remembers sticking out more, the sheepishness of your smile looking straight at the painter, the two puncture wounds on your neck…

Ah. He wonders if you still have those. The last time he saw them, they’d nearly faded. And nowadays, you make it a point to keep your neck tucked under your collar, which leaves everything to his imagination.

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. it's been a while! this isn't the longest of chapter but it's to kick my creative juices back into gear :) thank you sm for your patience friends <3

He knows he hasn’t returned your cloak yet. Unfortunately for you, Astarion has taken a special liking to the dull fabric.

Despite its dreary grey shade and the tears from being worn relentlessly, it’s of surprisingly good quality. It’s the only reason it's survived this long, he reasons, and also why the sun can never pierce through its sewing job and burn into his own skin.

When he felt the tadpole leave him, he thought he would never see the sunlit streets of Baldur’s Gate again. But this cloak of yours has brought him a new sense of freedom he hadn’t had before—free of Cazador, free of an unwelcome visitor in his skull, free of the looming fear of death…and most importantly, free of his fear of the sun.

Being “stuck” in your home has given him too much time. Too much aimless staring at a book he’s already read four times over. Moreover, the others have become somewhat accustomed to his presence again…meaning some (Gale, specifically) don’t mind leaving Astarion by himself. And as much as he hates admitting it, Astarion would rather Gale’s incessant lectures rather than the boring silence you leave behind at the break of dawn.

An outing or two couldn’t hurt, surely.

So he embarks. Where to, he doesn’t know. But he leaves the house, making sure to lock the door behind him when he remembers how Shadowheart had scolded you for the mistake of not doing so. It’s not that he’s afraid of the cleric, of course. He’s a damn vampire, for heaven’s sake. He’s only being cautious.

The cloak makes it feel as if he were in an oven, especially with the weather becoming more sunny by the day, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when he’s finally standing in the middle of a bustling street, staring unblinkingly while others rush past him, all seemingly having a place to be. A newspaper boy here, a maid there, a circus performer somewhere there. He suddenly feels surrounded by too much life, and it’s not much help when he begins noticing fleeting glances in his direction. Wearing a thick winter cloak in the middle of the summer isn’t exactly common, after all.

“Baldur’s Mouth? They just started printing papers again, if you’d like a peek.”

Astarion glances down at the newspaper boy with squinted eyes, and his voice sounds snarkier than intended—not that he cares. “Who in the hells would pay two silvers for a newspaper that sucked up to Gortash just a few months ago? Does anyone really pay for this abomination?”

The boy frowns, crossing his arms. “If you didn’t want one, you could’ve just said so.”

“Really? Your incessant yelling around the market says otherwise,” Astarion snatches one of the papers, much to the boy’s distaste. He eyes the front cover for a split moment before realizing the very front page has a supposed ‘Exclusive Interview from the Hero of Baldur’s Gate! Never seen before!’

He finds himself reading.

“Mister, if you’re going to read, you have to pay!”

Though Astarion gives him a sharp glare that has the boy swallowing the lump in his throat, he relents, tossing one silver coin in his direction. Not without a click of his tongue, however, and the coin lands in the boy’s palms with a plop. “It’s two silvers.”

“I’m fully aware, don’t worry.”

The Baldur’s Mouth is full of cheap stories, surely paid off by its snotty writer as always, but Astarion acknowledges improvement where it’s due. Gortash’s death must’ve struck some sort of moral chord in the newspaper because a few of its columns are filled with mundane updates on the rebuilding of the city, even if they don’t provide as much entertainment as it surely could’ve if they stretched a few truths. He doesn’t read much into them, though, because he’s soon found himself a corner in Elfsong Tavern where he’s practically boring holes into the damn paper. The cover, specifically.

In his honest opinion, the artist who drew your portrait should be fired, even if he’s no expert in the arts. Your softer features are far too sharp, and your sharper features are far too soft, in what he supposes is an effort to ‘enhance’ your appearance, but now it just looks plain uncanny. They also forgot to take into account the scars of battle on your skin, a part of your hair that he remembers sticking out more, the sheepishness of your smile looking straight at the painter, the two puncture wounds on your neck…

Ah. He wonders if you still have those. The last time he saw them, they’d nearly faded. And nowadays, you make it a point to keep your neck tucked under your collar, which leaves everything to his imagination.

He wonders if you’re ashamed of them as he’s ashamed of the ones on his own neck.

Astarion tears his attention away from your portrait and resumes reading the actual paper.

The questions the interviewer asks are laughable, almost. They’re painfully boring or painfully intrusive, with nothing in between, resulting in awkward short answers or whatever filler the writer put in place of your answer. Half your words, at the very least, must’ve been altered, as they don’t sound much like you.

One question catches his eye.

‘So what does the hero of Baldur’s Gate plan to do after the city is rebuilt?’

Astarion lifts the paper closer to his face.

‘’This city is my home…but I don’t think I could stay here any longer than I have to. I’ve made some precious memories here, but I’ve also made ones that I’d rather move on from. People I want to move on from. For that reason, as much as I love this city, I’d have to embark for elsewhere.’’

His eyes widen. You’re leaving? When the hells did you decide that? 

‘Truly a sad day for the citizens to see their beloved bard leaving. Knowing our readers must be curious as to what their next step is, we made sure to discuss more on this matter.’

‘’Where will I go? I mean…I guess I’d just wander. Explore. Faerun is a vast continent. I’m sure I’ll have plenty to do. Plenty of people to meet.’’

Astarion’s gaze reaches the end of the page. The rest of the sentences babble on in flowery language praising you, which he doesn’t even bother reading before shoving the newspaper into one of the pockets of your cloak. He’s not sure if he would’ve preferred simply not reading the damn paper, but he tells himself that this is an improvement. A reason for celebration, even! Without you, he won’t have to tiptoe around the city any longer, nor will you need to worry about having to continue a months-long argument with him.

This is exactly what the two of you need. Space. For a while. Maybe forever. He stares at the beer stains on the table. Forever sounds like a long time, even if it’s only a few years to him and the rest of your life to you.

Forever sounds too long, yet not long enough.

He’s always wanted to be immortal. Even before he’d grown fangs and his eyes turned red. Sure, the path he took to get here…left a lot to be desired, but with Cazador gone, he supposes it’s not so bad, being a vampire—-besides the whole ‘not-being-able-to-see-the-sun’ fiasco. Sure, he has nightmares every other night about his time spent under his master, but without him, he’s essentially invincible as long as he doesn’t find a cleric who specializes in radiant magic. Sure, wine tastes like vinegar. Sure, he has to wear this suffocating cloak everywhere, but is it really so bad?

He sighs. It could be worse. He could be dead, for all he knows. Actually, dead.

Astarion stands to leave. This damn tavern is even more suffocating than his cloak, especially filled with patrons already half passed out from booze before noon. There’s a reason why he’s always preferred wine over whatever’s filling their cups.

He paces toward the door, but just as he’s halfway there, it swings open. And much to his horror stands a familiar cleric who nearly chucked a fork into his eye just this morning.

“Shadowheart,” the bartender smiles, ceasing his hand midway, polishing a cup. “What brings you here this morning?”

She certainly won’t miss her mark this time if she sees him out in public.

Astarion immediately turns on his heel and heads for the stairs. He practically shoves through multiple patrons in the process, but he manages to get there just as Shadowheart joins Alan at the bar, her arms looped around two large fabric bags as she greets him. They’re just within earshot, even as the spawn scrambles to get upstairs. “Just picking up our attire for the celebration and your tavern was on the way back. My friends and I do apologize for our inconsistent appearances…”

He doesn’t wait to hear the rest of their conversation because he’s already trying the doors to each of the rooms to figure another way out of the building. Most doors are locked shut, but there’s one he tries that slides right open.

Much to his distaste, it’s occupied.

He slams the door back shut just as the woman shrieks.

He peeks out the window. He could jump down, technically, but there are far too many people on the street in broad daylight to go unnoticed. And if there were to be a commotion, no doubt the damn cleric would come rushing out, thinking it’s another attack. So, instead of returning downstairs, he opts for the ladder leading to the rooftop, higher up into the building.

The warm air of the summer breeze hits him like an axe to the face.

Still, he climbs out, grateful to even managed to have escaped the same room as Shadowheart. Thank the heavens. And for a moment, he thinks he’s alone, until there’s another shrill voice rushing at him.

“There you are, Tav! I’ve waited days to see you here agai—" the tiefling stops, her smile dropping. "You’re not Tav.”

Way to state the obvious.

Clearly, he wants to spit back. But he’s too occupied trying to figure out why she looks so familiar to do so. He merely squints at her, which some might consider rude, but she doesn't seem to mind at all. Noticing his confusion, she blinks. “Wait, you’re Tav’s friend!”

Friend. He hasn’t been considered your friend in a long while.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on house arrest?” she tilts her head. “Did you maybe make up with Tav?”

Ah. You must’ve told her about his—peculiar arrangement.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Alfira. We met at the grove and Last Light Inn, didn’t we?” she offers him a smile, which he doesn’t return. She doesn’t wait for an answer either. “I wasn’t expecting you here…Did Tav send you?”

Astarion scrunches his nose as she squints at him, hands on either of her hips as she gauges how he seems to sink further into your cloak, hesitating to kiss the sun’s radiant glow. She doesn’t seem to think much of it, though, as she taps her foot impatiently. “Well?”

“I—yes,” is all his damn brain can spit out.

“Oh,” her face softens, and a soft small stretches across her lips. How gullible. It wasn’t even a particularly good lie. “You should’ve just said so. In that case, I must ask you how they’re doing…I haven’t seen them in weeks. Are they well? Have they started reading up on my lyrics? Have they got a message for me? Ah, scratch those, where are they right now?”

Hells. He’s already itching to jump off the roof.

“Does your head ever implode with all those questions racked inside of it?” he grumbles. “And I’m afraid I don’t know half the answers. Sorry to disappoint.”

Alfira’s shoulders relax as she leans back on her heel, eyes falling to her shoes before she looks back up. “...Well, that’s a shame. Then, what brings you here?”

This time, he’s prepared.

“Seeing the state you’re in, my appearance was warranted. They only wished for me to ensure they’re doing well. It’s a busy time of year, you see, and they haven’t had the time to indulge your—-outings up here.”

“That’s good to hear.”

An awkward silence hangs in the air like a deathtrap, and he wishes he could say something—anything else about what you’ve been up to, but it comes up empty. It’s not like the two of you are on terms to sit down and have a chat every week over tea, but he’s not sure if he knows any more about what you’re doing than this bard standing right before him. You don’t play music anymore. You don’t frequent the bars as much as you used to. You don’t do a lot of things anymore. But what do you do?

It irks him: not knowing, that is.

He only realizes moments later that the bard has been talking this entire time.

“---and I’d really appreciate it if you could take it to them. I can’t imagine anyone else using it as well as they did,” she reaches behind her bag perched against the stair rails, and lifts something in his direction. He’d be a fool not to recognize it anywhere. It’s a pretty thing, the lyre. Your lyre. “I don’t know how I managed to find this at the market, but I like to think it’s fate. Tell them it’s a gift for helping with my songs.”

Astarion stares at the instrument. He runs the tips of his fingers against its familiar strings, taking note of indents he’s all too familiar with and the chips from months running in the wild. The last time he’d held it like this, it felt like it brought him closer to you. Now, it only feels like the cold dead wood it is.

“Were you looking for it?”

“No. Like I said, it must be fate.”

How cheesy.

His lips quirk downward even further, if that’s even possible, as he narrows in on a multitude of new dents and cracks in the wood. The lyre is yours, without a doubt, but it’s clearly seen a different level of care than what you would’ve given it even while fighting to the death. He glares at a particular blemish, and Alfira sighs.

“It’s seen better times, I know. But I’m sure they’d appreciate it even if it’s not how they left it.”

Wouldn’t you? No. He doesn’t know if you’d appreciate it. Why would you? You don’t even play the damn thing anymore, much less produce any music. He contemplates just tossing the object, but the second Alfira sees the glint of hesitation in his eyes, she pounces, shaking her head.

“Please,” she pleads. “Give it to them.”

His brows pinch.

And because he doesn’t want to entertain this tiefling any longer than he has to, and because he’d much rather get out of the sun and no other reason, he huffs. “Fine. I will.”

The smile she gives him doesn’t prompt him to do the same.

Months prior, he could see himself in the reflection of the gloss glazing over the wood. At least, that’s what he thinks because he could see your own expressions reflecting off it when you played it in the sun. It doesn’t hold a glow anymore, much less a reflection.

The lyre weighs heavily in his hands.

“I won’t pry,” Alfira says. “They never really told me what happened between the two of you…I respect your privacy, so I won’t ask. But whatever it was…I do hope it won’t happen again.”

It’s a weak one, but it’s a warning. He’s had plenty of those to figure it out.

“It won’t,” he mutters. 

He’ll be long gone before it can.

Sleep is a luxury you can't afford nowadays.

Surely, the bags under your eyes are enough of an indication if it weren’t for the sluggishness of your every step. Still, you manage to offer your guest a lopsided smile out of respect. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, I’m alright. Thank you, though,” Yevir says, eyeing you up and down, obviously noting your disheveled state. “Is now not a good time?”

You shake your head, straightening your back against the dining room table with a cough. “It’s alright. I’m only tired. With the preparations for the celebration next week, I’m a bit overwhelmed. I was meaning to speak to you again anyway.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, but you can’t be bothered to deny your exhaustion further.

“You’ve been busy. I’ve seen the dead spawn that they retrieved from the Blushing Mermaid.”

Quite frankly, you feel terrible for the folk who own the place. A hag and then a horde of vampires in their basement in the span of a few months? You think it’d be a sign to close the tavern down.

Your tone remains grim. “Were any of them the woman you were looking for?”

He shakes his head, and a breath of relief escapes your lips. “No, she’s…I still haven’t found her.”

And maybe it’s the fatigue getting to your head, but your mouth moves before you can stop it. “You would think she’d try to meet someone she was so close to.”

It’s insensitive, and you wouldn’t blame him if he promptly stood to leave, but all he does is hang his head, dragging his hands over his face. He doesn’t seem like he’s gotten much rest recently, either. “Trust me, I’ve been wondering that for weeks now.”

“And have you come up with anything?”

“No. None. Zero. All I get are nightmares that I might get to one of my patrol shifts, and I’ll find her dead body lying on the ground somewhere,” he groans. “Well, deader body.”

“Maybe she’s afraid.”

“Of what? Me? Who in the hells would be afraid of me? Certainly not her, I must assure you. She’s always been stubborn, and she’s far more determined than myself, believe it or not.”

“Not you, but of herself. Vampire thirst surely can’t be so easy to control, and let’s be honest…” you point at your own neck, and the place where two puncture wounds should be on your wrist burns. “You’re practically a blood pot being offered to her.”

He frowns. “Is it so hard to control their thirst? I will admit that I don’t know much about vampire spawn aside from the obvious…”

You half snicker to yourself, almost in disbelief. “Believe me, they’re beasts when they’re ravenous.”

“Beasts?”

“Do you blame them? To them, blood is essentially liquid gold,” you shrug. “It tastes nothing like actual blood on their tongue. Sure, it might be a bit adjacent to drinking iron, but if they get their hands on prey, they really like…it tastes sweet to them. Would you deny a treat if you spent decades cooped up inside a dungeon cell, starving?"

Yevir’s face pales.

“See?”

His brows furrow as you sigh into your chair. “I’ve done my own share of research, but books seem to overexaggerate things most of the time…Can I ask how you know so much about them? Even if I manage to find her, I’d want to find some way to make her new life more tolerable…it’s not much, but it’s the least I could do.”

You blink.

Shit. You’ve said too much.

What are you supposed to say? You dated a vampire? Let him ravage you on the forest floor and spent months in his tent? That you kissed him just weeks prior, and he’s living just beside your own room? That he told you what your blood does to him, and reveal the bite marks on your skin?

You stand, your chair legs scraping against the ground.

“I have a book you might like. Let me grab it for you. And some tea, maybe,” you smile almost too widely. Fortunately for you, Yevir only nods.

“I’d appreciate it.”

You essentially grab whatever vampire-related book you have shoved under your bed and rush back downstairs to the kitchen. There isn’t much to learn from the thing with how much you already know, but you’re sure it must contain something that he might consider helpful. You know how horrible it felt to be kept in the dark about vampirism, even more so when you realized just how terrible the relationship between master and spawn tended to be…so a small push certainly wouldn’t hurt. Especially with Yevir's own problems with his beloved spawn. This is how you reassure yourself as you pour whatever tea Gale’s left on the stove into a cup.

If you were in Astarion’s shoes, you’d think becoming a spawn would have been the worst turning point of your life. And for a while, you thought he’d felt the same. A part of you thinks he does. But in the time you’ve spent with him and the stories he’s told you sparingly of his life before Cazador, your gut tells you differently. Especially when he’s drenched in the blood of your enemies, holding the immortality he’s long wished for with a sickening smile stretching on his lips. Guilt pools in your stomach for even bringing up the thought, but you can’t deny it, either.

You wonder if it hadn’t been for Cazador’s leash tying him down, he would’ve turned out differently. More twisted. That he would’ve indulged in the most corrupt parts of him as a magistrate. That maybe he wouldn’t have learned the value of a life. That he would’ve become more alike to him—the man he would’ve become if he’d ascended.

That small voice in your head is what stopped the ascension, for you feared he would lose everything he’d gained in his time as a spawn, no matter how trivial he believed it to be.

You hear the front door opening and snap out of your self-tangent. No use dwelling on it now. What’s done is done. No matter how strange the situation between you and the spawn is now, you’d rather have this than what could’ve happened if you hadn’t listened to your gut. You remain firm, no matter how much he hates you for it.

You pour Shadowheart an extra cup.

But as you step back into the living space, you realize the occupant doesn’t drink tea at all.

Astarion stands in the middle of the room, eyes wide as he stares at your guest with an undeniably bloody sack clutched in one hand. His large, red eyes seem glued to the ones of your guest, who stares back even more appalled as he takes one look at Astarion’s pale skin, the shade of his eyes, and the very bloody bag containing what you assume to be his dinner.

You drop the two cups onto the ground, tea splashing against your feet.

“You—Is he—” Yevir stumbles over his words, yet his instincts as a guard have him reaching for his weapon. “He’s—”

Astarion sneers, though his expression strains as Yevir’s hand reaches his sword. “Now, let’s not do anything that could ruin the wonderfully tasteful furniture in here...”

The Fist snaps his head in your direction. “He’s a spaw–!”

The back of a sword hilt hits the side of his head with an audible ‘thud,’ and he’s out like a light.

You stare at the unconscious body slouched over your dining table for a brief moment in utter shock before you gawk at the culprit. Of course. Lae’zel huffs, awfully pleased for someone who just caused a concussion to an innocent man. “Your soldiers are such children.”

Astarion barks a laugh, though it sounds more of a mix of disbelief and amusement.

You wish you could go one day in this house without another headache to add to the growing list.

Tags: @ayselluna @littleenglishfangirl @bg3obsessedsideblog @iwillpissyourpants @cyberpr1m3 @snowlotr @road-riot @spacekidnova @madislayyy @lordfishflakes @nicalysm @djarinsway @tinystarfishgalaxy @brainz00 @hopeful-n-sad @ohdeerieme @madisban @chrismarium @chonkercatto @fanfic-share @bitterbeanren @sleepyred1703 @miskouly @ravenswritingroom @iamlowkeycrying @deezus-roy @spiritraves @mariposakitten @dinobae-replyacc @whisperingwillowxox @bdudette @misscrissfemmefatale @atropapurpurea @cosywinterevenings @phoenixgurl030 @generalstephkenobi @shadowsmusical @himesuedi @girlygmer-blog @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @hyperfixationwhore @teardropcup @marina-and-the-memes @kiwi-mansanas @woosaaghh @cminr @everybodystaycalm @divineknightmare @bangtanbecks @carolinelec @aelieknox @bluelovesleep @catching-fire-in-the-wind @moonlight-stay @thatbeanieboss @atotalmess-lol @lavender-romancer @roguishcat

[chaehwa-archives]

friendly rivalry deep dive part 18

Episode 8 is the climax of the first half of Friendly Rivalry, and it feels different from every episode that’s come before. The main characters have been established, and for the first time they’re all gathered in the same place. All the pieces are on the game board.

Our main girls, Jae-yi and Seul-gi, have gone through a whole arc together. After enduring betrayal and heartbreak, they’ve reached a tentative reconciliation. For a few magical hours, Seul-gi sets aside her doubts and reservations, and enjoys the romantic night of her dreams.

At least until she loses her dad’s phone and gets stabbed by a drug addict. Life at Chaehwa sure is a rollercoaster.

I’ve been struggling with how to approach this one. Episode 8 is one of the most iconic in the whole series, and it’s truly a masterpiece of efficiency. How can one episode have more fluff than all the previous episodes combined, and also have the most labyrinthine plot so far? How do they pack so much into thirty minutes? Did the writers sell their souls to Gay Satan?

Well, first, let’s talk about that. I briefly mentioned the queerbaiting debate in my discussion of the Episode 4 dream kiss, and now that we’ve arrived at one of the gayest episodes, I fear it’s time to put on the hazmat suit and wade into the discourse once again.

I’m sympathetic to viewers who go into Friendly Rivalry expecting a GL romance and end up feeling betrayed. It’s true that FR doesn't check every single box if that’s what you’re looking for. There’s no direct verbal confession, no kiss outside of Seul-gi's dream. If you need someone to say “I love you” to consider a relationship canon, you’re going to be disappointed.

But...media literacy y’all. It matters. Friendly Rivalry is a story about hidden motives and buried desires. The characters are emotionally damaged and repressed teenagers. And from the beginning, FR has used symbolism and subtext to express emotional states. This show is begging you to look past the surface and engage on a deeper level.

And yet...when it comes to Jae-yi and Seul-gi’s feelings for each other, Friendly Rivalry does not ask you to work so hard. It’s pretty damn direct! *Crucial plot information* is often conveyed with ten times more subtlety. The only way this episode could be any more romantically coded is, again, if there were a kiss or confession, but that wouldn’t make sense for Jae-yi or Seul-gi at this point.

It’s worth asking: If FR revolved around a het pairing, would there really be any doubt that these characters are in love?

I can still see how someone might view this as bait, though, if the story were about something else. If after this episode Jae-yi and Seul-gi’s relationship were sidelined and never mattered again, I would be upset. And that does threaten to happen for a while, so I can understand some frustration if you’re only here for the gay shit.

But the ending clarifies what FR is about—and the ending also isn’t very subtle about it imo. Friendly Rivalry is about Jae-yi and Seul-gi and their love for each other. Without that, there’s no story.

And that’s ignoring cultural context, because I’m not an expert on the K-drama industry, so I don’t know what restrictions the creators were working within. Personally, whether it’s due to cultural pressures or artistic choice, I kind of like that Jae-yi and Seul-gi don’t just say “I love you.” That would be waaay too basic for these freaks.

Final word on the subject: I know why people want “confirmation” and why they can get turned off by ambiguity in queer stories. They want to know that the creators are actually on their side and not just toying with them for money. But Friendly Rivalry does not scream “cynical cash grab” to me. The director spent years working on the script, it was filmed on a small budget without sponsorships, and at first it only aired on a minor streaming platform. I mean Hye-ri bought her own costumes with her own damn money! No one involved in this project thought it might end up on Netflix one day. Queerbaiting makes art worse because it’s lazy and safe. “Safe” isn’t a word I would ever use to describe Friendly Rivalry.

We don’t expect every straight romance to be a romcom. I don’t want to live in a world where every queer story has to conform to the same standard to be considered “real.” True love is weird. It’s personal. It can be complex and even ambiguous. It’s not always “I love you.” Sometimes it’s “I’ve been imagining your death a lot lately.”

Sorry for the rant. Let’s pick up where we left off.

After her rendezvous with Jae-yi on the rooftop, Seul-gi is sedated for an endoscopy and has a dream. This is the first dream sequence since the kiss in Episode 4. That dream established how Seul-gi was feeling about Jae-yi about the time: ...horny. She was just beginning to process her attraction, fantasizing about Jae-yi coming onto her in a context that was both safe and thrilling.

The tone of this dream is different. On the beach where she was abandoned, Seul-gi’s father is searching for her, passing out flyers. Seul-gi calls to him again and again, but he doesn’t hear her. No one does. The tide rises, and water soaks her feet. Even so, she’s unable to move.

Then Jae-yi appears and offers her hand. Together they walk away from the beach, through the woods, as the princess dress is carried off by the waves.

Not only is this Seul-gi’s first dream since Episode 4, that was also the last time we saw her as a child. In that episode, Seul-gi told the story of her abandonment, and Jae-yi pretended to sympathize. But her false sympathy couldn’t bring true healing.

Conversely, in Episode 2, we saw how Jae-yi’s outstretched hand was able to transcend time, space, and her own scheming. Without realizing it, her gesture extended all the way to that girl abandoned by her bullies on the roof and offered hope: You aren’t alone up here. I see you.

The second time Jae-yi offers her hand on a roof, in Episode 7, it has even greater weight. This time, her sympathy is real, and she doesn’t just feel bad, she does something about it. She gets down off the wall, lifts Seul-gi up, and confesses her feelings and intentions.

When she reaches out the second time, Jae-yi removes her armor first. This gesture says more than I can see you. It says I’m willing to sacrifice for you. I’m willing *to be seen.* And this gesture reaches all the way to the root of Seul-gi’s trauma, to the girl still crying for her father on the beach.

Letting go of trauma is never easy. It becomes a part of you. The princess dress has defined Seul-gi’s life since her abandonment. She’s always been the outcast, the unloved girl people ignore or despise. Without that wound, who is she? If she leaves the beach, where will she go?

The shirt Seul-gi wears in her dream is simple and white. She’s a blank slate. She glances back wistfully at the part of herself she’s leaving behind. But with Jae-yi there, holding her hand, the woods aren’t so scary. Wherever Jae-yi is going, she wants to go, too.

If the first dream was there to confirm Seul-gi’s physical attraction, this dream confirms that Seul-gi is horny for true love. Even in her most private and sensitive memories, Jae-yi is there—and Seul-gi would rather leave everything she knows behind than be separated from her.

Compared to the first half, the second half of Friendly Rivalry is a lot more plot-driven, and that trend starts with Episode 8. This episode has *so* much going on in it. I don’t want these posts to turn into long tedious summaries, so I might have to get more creative in how I approach writing them.

But here’s the speedrun: Jae-yi wakes up after the endoscopy and spies Ye-ri sneaking away to the lockers with Seul-gi’s locker key. Later that night, while everyone is gathered at the school for the big post-midterms festival, Jae-yi figures out with A-ra’s assistance that Ye-ri, working for Tae-joon, has stolen Woo Do-hyeok’s phone. Jae-yi locates the phone while it’s charging and unlocks it using the date of Seul-gi’s disappearance as the passcode. She finds threatening texts from her father, and a very upsetting video of her sister, Je-na, in a sexual situation with Seul-gi’s dad.

Then she bumps into Je-na herself in the flesh.

Meanwhile Beom-su is having the worst night ever. Being knocked out of the top twenty has done a number on her mental health, and she gets more disoriented after chugging a drug cocktail that A-ra sells her off the books. Ye-ri entices Beom-su into helping her find a charger for Do-hyeok’s phone, promising her a turn in the blind date booth in exchange, but when Beom-su actually does what she asks, Ye-ri (who has lost the phone she wanted to charge thanks to Jae-yi) lashes out in frustration. Beom-su’s resentment builds as her grip on reality weakens. Finally she takes out her rage on Seul-gi by stabbing her in the arm with a kitchen knife.

Gyeong is also here! First she’s trying to study like a big nerd, then she has a run-in with Tae-joon, who’s at the festival to work a food stall, then she goes on an awkward blind date with a drug dealer. The dealer, Byeong-jin, is here to uhhhh sell fentanyl to high schoolers? And harass Seul-gi I guess. (Bro get a life. You look 27 years old.) Gyeong tracks down Seul-gi to talk to her about Tae-joon, and maybe why an adult man passing out transdermal patches to teenagers is looking for her, but they both get sidetracked when Seul-gi realizes her dad’s phone is missing. Gyeong suspects that Jae-yi stole it.

Let’s pause to pay tribute once again to Oh Woo-ri’s phenomenal acting. Her awkward gestures, her facial expressions, the stiff way she walks...she truly embodies Gyeong down to the finest detail.

And of course Je-na is here, too, posing as a visiting student from Hoegyeong High School. This is the first time we’ve seen her outside of flashbacks and photographs. I’m not 100% sure I know what she’s doing at the school tbh—does she think the phone is here? It seems pretty clear now that she’s the one calling it. Or is there something else she might be after in the C-Med room?

I’m skipping lots of details, but those are the broad strokes.

Mostly I want to focus on Jae-yi and Seul-gi in this post, because they are my Roman Empire, but I also want to talk a little about Ye-ri. She’s always been a morally gray figure (okay, to be fair, everyone in this show except Tae-joon aka the devil incarnate is morally gray) but she has a sweet side—she would never be mean to Gyeong, not even for a bazillion won. In Episode 8 though we see her at her worst, being downright vicious to a girl who clearly needs help.

At first I thought it was a little out of character for her to be this cruel to Beom-su. Then I thought about the circumstances. It’s the school festival—everyone is here. Even if Ye-ri weren’t stressed about trying to extort a powerful and dangerous man for money, she would be on edge. Ye-ri depends on her image for security. In social situations, she’s in survival mode. If she were alone with Beom-su, in a different setting, her good heart might prevail, but here, where she could be seen by anyone? Maintaining her image is top priority. And Beom-su is poison to that image. To be caught hanging out with—or worse, being nice to—the paranoid druggie kid is social suicide.

Notice the way Ye-ri transforms around Gyeong. Gyeong is also an awkward loser—but because she has high social status in the class, Ye-ri doesn’t care at all! I mean, she’s also truly madly deeply in love with Gyeong, so she probably just thinks Gyeong’s dorkiness is cute. By the way, note the colors of the big heart behind Ye-ri on the blind dating booth...green, Gyeong’s color...and pink?? Shippers you have been vindicated.

Okay...it is time. My babies...oh my sweet babies.

On my old blog (rip) I started developing a Grand Unified Theory of Fluff—why sometimes I love it, and other times...I do not (*cough* theloyalpin *cough*). Episode 8 is my platonic ideal. It’s not just a textbook example—it is the Sistine Chapel, the Complete Works of Shakespeare, the Holy Grail of fluff. It is giving us exactly what we want, and it’s almost unbearably cute, but it is always serving the characters and story. Jae-yi and Seul-gi share about six minutes of screentime in this episode altogether, but those six minutes have more impact than the literal hours Pam and Dokrak spend feeding each other in Us. (Okay it’s probably not hours but…)

First of all, it’s just so cathartic. We’ve wanted this for Jae-yi and Seul-gi since the first episode, and you can tell they’ve wanted it for nearly as long. Finally they can relax around each other. Finally they can enjoy each other’s company. Finally they can act like the kids they were never allowed to be growing up.

If these scenes were just about the euphoria of having fun with your crush while recapturing your lost innocence together, that would be enough. I would eat that shit right up. But this wouldn’t be Friendly Rivalry without at least a dozen more layers of emotional complexity on top.

There’s a subtle tension in Jae-yi and Seul-gi’s interactions from the beginning. Look at Jae-yi’s face when she first finds Seul-gi at the festival. She’s not smiling. Her expression is somewhere between concern and determination. She’s worried but driven.

Jae-yi isn’t relaxed at all—she’s on high alert. She knows that Ye-ri is up to something, and that whatever she’s up to has something to do with Seul-gi. The concern in her eyes is for Seul-gi’s safety. But she’s determined to prove (to Seul-gi and to herself) that she wasn’t just messing with Seul-gi’s heart again when she promised to protect her. She wants her girl to have fun tonight. And she’s made it her mission to give this night to Seul-gi as a gift—even if it means keeping her ignorant.

For Seul-gi’s sake, Jae-yi plays another role. She pretends to be silly and carefree so that Seul-gi can be.

But somewhere along the way, the line between performance and reality starts to blur. Jae-yi gets swept up in her own act. She starts to have fun in spite of herself.

In the past we’ve seen how Jae-yi fools herself into thinking she’s in complete control, while in fact it’s Seul-gi pulling her along, making her do things she’d never do otherwise. Most recently we saw this pattern in the Episode 7 rooftop scene. Jae-yi thinks she’s “won” with her sneaky pee scheme—but it’s Seul-gi tugging on her heartstrings, and her love for Seul-gi, that pull her back from the brink of despair.

Now Jae-yi has cast herself in the role of Seul-gi’s protector. She thinks she’s taking control of the situation to ensure that Seul-gi has the time of her life. But little does she know it’s Seul-gi who’s making her forget all her fears, and allowing her, for maybe for the first time in her life, to feel free.

It is so sweet y’all. I’m sobbing rn.

These dynamics are maybe easiest to see in the scene at the food stand, when Tae-joon interrupts their date to mansplain about the health risks of I DONT FUCKING CARE YOU ASSHOLE GO AWAY, LET THEM ENJOY THEIR DATE GODDAMN IT, IF YOU TOUCH A HAIR ON SEUL-GI’S HEAD MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR TO GOD—

Um. Sorry!

The moment Seul-gi mentions that she wants to eat, Jae-yi glances over at the stand where her father is working. She’s clearly worried and doesn’t want to go. But her woman is hungry. She has no choice. (Notice it’s Seul-gi taking the lead, and Jae-yi following.) Then, when Jae-yi is introducing Seul-gi to Gyeong’s mother, something really interesting happens. Jae-yi takes Seul-gi suddenly by the arm, grinning from ear to ear.

She knows Tae-joon is right there. She knows he’s watching her. He’s always watching her.

Is she deliberately provoking him? Is she telling him stay away, she’s mine? These are things Jae-yi has done before—neither would be out of character for her. But when she steals a glance back at her dad, her expression is strangely distant and reflective.

...I think she just forgot.

For a moment, she was too happy to worry about what her dad would think. She stopped calculating her every movement, and just...did what she wanted to do! Which was touch Seul-gi of couse. (When is that ever not what Jae-yi wants to do.)

It’s interesting that Jae-yi learned fear from her father, a man who is seemingly incapable of fear. Any assault on his power he responds to with a cocky little smirk (an expression we’ve seen Jae-yi wear many times now), as if no threat is worth taking seriously.

But this is a facade just like Jae-yi’s—one he’s spent his whole life perfecting. Behind that smug punchable mask, fear is probably the one emotion that he does feel.

And nothing—nothing in the entire world—makes Tae-joon more terrified than seeing his daughter happy and beyond his control.

This bitch can’t help himself. He has to reassert his dominance. He puts on his authoritative “health expert” persona and starts droning on about phosphates, trying to seize control the way he usually does, by pretending to care about his daughter’s wellbeing. He’s probably done this to Jae-yi a thousand times.

But Seul-gi does not give a fuck. She just ignores his ass! And when he keeps pushing, she pushes back. She says no, you can’t control this situation, or your daughter, or life itself—so fuck off. Your diet advice is not needed. And now that she strongly suspects him of being involved in her father’s death, she even taunts him about it.

Seul-gi, you are a treasure. Jae-yi, never let this girl go.

As Jae-yi opens up more and more, we’re watching her relationship with Seul-gi transform into something more and more reciprocal. Back in Episode 3, Seul-gi confessed to being envious of Jae-yi, who seemed to have everything in the world. But Jae-yi has as much reason or more to be envious of Seul-gi. Seul-gi grew up alone and forged her identity in isolation. She learned early not to care what other people think. Because of that, she has no pretensions. She isn’t trying to seem cool or earn anyone’s favor. Everything she does, she does for herself.

Jae-yi has never been able to live like that. She’s always been at the center of attention, performing for a crowd. And she’s had to define herself in opposition to the people around her—in opposition to her sister first, and then to anyone else who could be a threat. Jae-yi is all pretense. She’s been acting for so long, she’s forgotten how to just be.

In Seul-gi’s dream at the start of this episode, we saw Jae-yi give her the courage to start moving on from her past. Now their roles have reversed. Because Seul-gi is there, Jae-yi has the courage to ignore her father’s gaze, even when he’s standing right there in front of her. Seul-gi gives her the strength to act for herself, without worrying about what other people will think of her.

They are so perfect for each other. I know they’re still in high school but just let them get married already. Please.

I keep thinking to myself, “oh that’s just a cute lil fluff scene, I can’t have that much to say about it,” and then I end up having so much to say about it. Take the ball pit scene. At first, my reaction was simply no thoughts head empty just let them kisisskss already omg. But even this fluffiest of fluff scenes has hidden depths.

We’ve seen a few callbacks to Episode 4 already. The ball pit scene made me think not only of Seul-gi’s dream in Episode 4, but also of Jae-yi’s scuba diving trip story. Remember when Jae-yi tells Seul-gi she felt relaxed under the water, and Seul-gi says, “Like being in your mom’s belly before you were born?”

The ball pit is our symbolic body of water. You could replace it with a pool and this would just be the romantic gaze-into-each-other’s eyes pool scene from dozens of movies. But ball pits are also something we associate with childhood. Playing in a ball pit isn’t something you usually do as an adult, or as a teenager. If you’re self-conscious, it could even be a little embarrassing.

Jae-yi and Seul-gi were both forced to grow up too fast, and for both of them, the past represents comfort, a time before trauma altered their lives. If only Seul-gi could go back to when her parents were still alive, before she was abandoned...If only Jae-yi could go back to a time before she distanced herself from her sister, or even further, back to before she was cursed with consciousness.

The ball pit isn’t real water. It’s one of the most unreal-looking sets in FR—an ice-cream-colored soft pastel dream world. It’s the stage for a fantasy. Jae-yi and Seul-gi can’t really go back in time, but in this alternate reality, they can pretend for a little while.

In some ways this ball pit scene is like the bathtub fantasy come to life. Jae-yi is taking the lead, putting moves on Seul-gi, giving our poor girl a gay panic attack. (I love how you can just *see* her entire interior monologue in her eyes like oh shit oh god is this happening can this really be happening i think it’s happening oh fuck she’s so cute what the fuck i can’t breathe i think i’m dying help?) But the irl version is different from the dream. In her dream Seul-gi had Jae-yi play the role of the confident, dominant, mature one. That Jae-yi wasn’t vulnerable at all, because she wasn’t real.

When this Jae-yi takes the lead, she puts herself in the vulnerable position first. She jumps into the ball pit and beckons Seul-gi: Come on, let’s be stupid and act like little kids! Without Seul-gi’s influence, there’s no way Jae-yi could be this unselfconscious. It’s a two-way fantasy now, one they’re creating together. And for a moment the world fades away and it’s just the two of them. They can’t turn back the clock, but they can almost make time stand still.

Unfortunately they are in a very public place, in a very conservative country, and they are just now starting to feel comfortable enough around each other to start exploring these feelings. It’s not the right time or place for an actual kiss. But you know they both want it.

This scene is also important for GL scholars investigating the most urgent questions of our day, like: When Jae-yi and Seul-gi meet up again post-Episode 16, who’s going to make the first move? (I think Jae-yi will be the first to go in for the kiss, but she’ll panic and start second-guessing if Seul-gi wants it or not, and Seul-gi will have to lean in the rest of the way.)

Okay I swear to god I am almost finished. (This post got sooo much longer than I intended it to be.) The scene after the ball pit is another of my favorites, mostly because SEUL-GI HOW TF ARE YOU SO CUUTE, YOUR SMILE WILL BE THE END OF ME. But no, once again, there’s actually a lot going on here! Look at the way they sit side by side on the bench, Seul-gi sprawled out like she’s hammered out of her mind, missing one sock, while Jae-yi sits prim and proper. Jae-yi takes off her cat ears, too, because the cat ears were her costume, something she wore to help get into the spirit of the role.

She’s thinking, Mission accomplished, my work here is done. Seul-gi had fun! She did it!!

Jae-yi offers to buy Seul-gi new socks, because of course she does. She is slipping out of one role and back into a more familiar one, the Jae-yi who showers the object of her affection with gifts. (Seul-gi is still wearing that scarf btw. She’d probably have ended up wearing it for like a month straight if not for the whole getting stabbed thing.) But before she can go, Seul-gi reaches out and grabs her wrist...

And Jae-yi stops.

The last time this happened, in Episode 6, Jae-yi slipped out of Seul-gi’s grasp, wearing one of those Tae-joon-certified smirks. This time she doesn’t even try to wriggle away. She’s letting someone touch her—and look at her face. She’s stunned.

Is she stunned just because Seul-gi touched her?

Or is it because......she likes it?!

A realization has been dawning slowly on Jae-yi all night long. I don’t know if she’s quite figured it out yet, but that’ll come soon.

As for Seul-gi, she’s just had the greatest night of her entire life, and she wants to return the favor. But she has nothing to give—nothing that Jae-yi doesn’t already have—except honesty. If Jae-yi is finally being sincere, Seul-gi wants to pay her back with sincerity.

So she admits how she feels. She doesn’t trust Jae-yi—the damage can’t be undone in a single day—but despite that, Jae-yi is special to her. She wasn’t upset about tying for first place. She was also over the moon.

This...this isn’t a story about rivalry at all! And those gazes sure don’t seem very friendly!!

One last thing, about the gazes. Throughout the evening, we’ve seen Jae-yi sneak little glances at Seul-gi whenever Seul-gi isn’t looking. She’s monitoring her mission progress, making sure Operation Best Date Night Ever goes off without a hitch. At least, that’s probably what she tells herself she’s doing.

Then comes the fireworks scene, the last moment Jae-yi and Seul-gi share in this episode before being separated. The world is cruel. In a very short time, Jae-yi is going to discover a terrible secret about her sister, and Seul-gi is going to get shanked.

Jae-yi looks over at Seul-gi as she’s watching fireworks for the first time in her life. And something clicks. Not just “this girl is the most beautiful precious loveliest thing I have ever laid eyes on” although yes probably that too. But ever since midterms, when she first saw the test results, Jae-yi has been working toward a discovery.

Seul-gi makes her happy.

Not buzzed or electrified. This feeling is different from the chemical rush of competition. It has nothing to do with winning. Seul-gi could beat her, and she still wouldn’t care.

Jae-yi doesn’t need the game, doesn’t need victory, doesn’t need to be the best. These things might have made her forget her despair for a little while, but they only made her hate herself more in the end.

*This* is all she needs.

Through Seul-gi, Jae-yi is starting to realize that there is more to life than her father’s curse. There is more to life than his kill-or-be-killed nightmare. It’s possible to find joy in little things. It’s possible to find joy in someone else’s success. It’s possible to find joy in someone else’s joy.

Jae-yi has never been enchanted by anything more than by Seul-gi’s enchantment. And being a witness to Seul-gi’s happiest night is the happiest she’s ever been.

Love didn’t free Jae-yi from fear. But by actively choosing love, and letting love guide her, she’s starting to see the possibility of another way. Maybe, if she follows these instincts, she can find the key to her liberation.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Gojo's reaction to his s/o, who has the ability to perceive the future, getting harassed because her client's not happy about their future?

Satoru hummed a happy little tune as he walked down the busy streets of Tokyo to go see his wife.

He had been blessed with an unusual day off after a quick meeting with the ‘old men’; probably because they were so annoyed with him that they just wanted him to go away. Still, it was a rare treat. So he thought he would surprise his wife by taking her to lunch. She could afford to close the shop for a day.

The sorcerer giggled a little as he wondered if she knew he was coming. With her innate ability to see and predict the future, it was hard to pull surprises on her. But he always tried. Taking the challenge on at every turn to keep his wife guessing and marriage spicy.

“That’s not right! You’re a liar!!”

Satoru’s eyebrows jutted up over his sunglasses, hearing the yelling once he had come in the door. He walked in further to the shop towards the back, where [Y/N] would hold private readings, and saw a woman who had clearly just jumped up from the table and was pointing at [Y/N].

“I’m sorry,” she apologized to the angry looking woman, “but that’s what I see.”

“No! That’s not true! He promised he would leave his wife and be with me! That has to be what my future will be next year!”

“I mean….there’s a possibility that the prediction could change. The future isn’t set in stone but-“No buts! I want my money back!”

“I can’t give you your money back just because you don’t like your prediction. This is a business. If you wanted someone to just agree with you, then you should have just called a friend.”

“They told me to come here! I see now that they just wanted me to get cheated too! You’re nothing but a liar and a con artist! I know my future and it’s to be with him, and you’re just making this up because you’re alone & jealous!”

“If you knew your future, then why did you even come here? Clearly there’s some underlying trust issues if you asked your friends, I assume family, and now a premonitions expert. This is just free advice at this point but maybe this relationship isn’t what you want for you’re future.”

The woman went full red at this point and raised her hand to presumably strike [Y/N]. She never got the chance though as Satoru grabbed her forearm to stop it just as soon as it was raised. “Now, now. Let’s have none of that.”

The woman looked startled and jerked out of his grasp and away from him. “Who the hell are you?”

“Just a concerned customer.” He replied with a cheeky grin, which he could see that [Y/N] did not appreciate out of the corner of her eye. “And also, her husband.”

The woman’s face went from shocked, to a mixture of crushed, back to angry. Clearly realizing that the only person alone in the room was her, but not yet willing to accept it. “I want my money back! Or I’ll sue!”

“Go ahead.” Satoru told her. Then pressed his fingers to his temple, “but I see an arrested in your future if you keep pressing this. Attempted battery is almost just as serious as if you actually landed that punch.” The woman let out an angry huff, then grabbed her belongings and dashed out. “Another satisfied customer.”

“Don’t be mean Satoru.” [Y/N] replied once they were alone and stood up to clean the mess the woman had made of her reading table. “It’s not my fault she’s chosen a hard path. I didn’t even have to use my ability to tell her this wasn’t going to end well. What was I supposed to do? Lie?”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t have minded. Delusional people like that only want to hear what they want to hear.” No one needed psychic abilities to see that.

“What are you doing here by the way?”

“Oh! I came to take you to lunch!” In the commotion, he almost forgot why he was there. “The old men gave me the day off, so I thought I would spend it with you.”

“That’s nice.” [Y/N] said with a smile. “But I have to work Satoru.”

“Why?” He asked with a pout. “You know we don’t need the money. I know you like to work but….you can take off for one day. Plus, shouldn’t you get hazard time for almost having a client flip a table on you?”

[Y/N] chuckled a little. Even if it was a sad sort of noise. “Well…I guess you’re right. The shop will be fine if we close early for today.”

“Hooray!”

Satoru helped her clean up the last little bit and they left. He asked her once, when they were dating, to use her powers on him but she said that she couldn’t. His future had too many variables. Too full of potential. But he knew, even when they first met, that his future was going to be with her.

He didn’t need psychic abilities to see that.

[linkablewritingadvice]

How much should it cost to be a writer?

It depends what route you’re taking. If you are planning to go for traditional publishing, which looks like you finishing a manuscript and then querying agents who will then take your book to publishers, you should be paying for basically nothing. One exception would be if you decide to hire an editor to get a pass over your manuscript and/or query package before sending it off, but this is not required.

If you are in the process of trying to get your manuscript traditionally published, you may be approached by a “publisher” offering to publish your manuscript for a fee. THIS IS A SCAM! An author should never be paying for “publishing services.” Anyone asking you to pay for your own printing, marketing, etc. costs is taking advantage of you. These are called vanity publishers and they will not turn you a profit, help you attract readers, or provide you the prestige of being published. 

Always check on Writer Beware - search for the name of the person or company. You can also just google that name along with the word “scam” or “reviews.” In general, don’t let yourself be blinded by dreams, or let yourself be convinced that something is a good idea because you really want it to be true. Never, ever, ever pay a publisher.

If you are going the self-publishing route, you will be paying for certain things, but none of those should be payment to be published. You are the publisher. Uploading your manuscript to Amazon or other marketplaces is free. However, you will be paying for things that a publisher typically pays for. This could include:

-Cover art - you could do this yourself, though this isn't recommended. A good cover is key to a book's success, so budget to purchase a pre-made book cover, or hire a professional cover artist.

To find pre-made book covers, you can just Google "premade book covers," or check one of these sites: BookCoverZone RockingBookCovers Beetiful

And here's a list of places to buy both custom and pre-made cover designs that's a good start. You can also check Reedsy and Etsy for people listing cover design services. If there is a self-pubbed author whose covers you love, try asking them what artist they use.

-Formatting - you could do this yourself using a formatting program like Atticus, or you could hire someone who does professional e-book formatting.

Here's an article on the turbo-DIY route. Here's a list of formatting programs you can use. To hire someone, you can simply search for book formatting services or look at places where people list such services for hire, like Reedsy, Fiverr, or certain Reddit boards.

-Ad campaigns - you may want to pay for ad campaigns on platforms like Meta or Amazon. More niche, author-specific platforms like BookBub, Book Funnel, or Book Sirens also come with certain costs. 

-Author services - you may wish to hire an expert in things like marketing, blurb copy, social media metrics, newsletter management, etc. You can find information on that here.

Be aware that scam publishers might try to pitch themselves as "author services" - you should be paying someone to help you with specific aspects of your self publishing work, NOT paying to be published.

-Software and platforms - whether it's a subscription to Duotrope, a paid Scribophile account, access to pro Canva features, etc. you may decide to pay for tools that you will use to do your work well.

-Expert advice - some people offer courses, books, or other resources on how to do specific things like write a compelling blurb or run an effective ad campaign. You may notice that a lot of the links I shared here will include upsells from people doing exactly this!

Be very cautious about this, as most of these people claim that they make tons of money on their self published books, but really, they make their money selling this stuff to people like you. Always check out a person’s free resources first, and wait to invest in this sort of thing until you have a specific question you need answered or are trying to do a very particular thing that you need granular guidance on. 

One thing you should NOT pay for is a review, feature, or interview. Self-published authors will be approached by a lot of scammers who claim that, for a nominal fee, they will share information about your book to their huge audiences. These are completely useless and a waste of money. Never spend money on this.

Always keep track of what you are spending on all of this. You may be able to deduct it from taxes you pay on your income from writing, and you will want to really understand what your profit margins look like.

[dodger-chan]

On this, a totally normal day, please enjoy this short scene featuring demon Steve Harrington:

“They’re con artists,” Steve asserted, rolling his eyes. “They’re nothing I need to worry about.”

It wasn’t that Eddie thought Steve was wrong. He’d read a book about their involvement in that possession and murder case in Connecticut five years back. It had certainly read more like fiction to him.

It was just that demons tended towards overconfidence. Or at least Steve did. Maybe that was more of a jock thing than a demon thing.

“You’re bound to the mortal plain by a two-bit ring from a Crackerjack box,” Robin snarked. “Forgive me if I’m a little concerned.”

There was that, too.

“I’ll have you know that ring cost me fifty cents. It’s solid nickel,” Eddie joked. But he kind of agreed with Robin. The ring was a flimsy object, and entirely incongruous with Steve’s preppy look. Even if the couple weren’t practiced demon killers, the ring would be an obvious target.

“So that’s why my finger keeps turning green,” Steve mused. “Look, I can’t let this stand, but one of you can wear the ring until they’re gone, okay?”

-------

Which was how Edde found himself twisting his old ouroboros ring around his finger, sitting in a diner booth across from Robin. Stealthily watching the demon hunters eat their lunch. Waiting for Steve to arrive. The wait wasn’t long, but it was tense.

Steve ignored them when he walked in, only paying attention to the couple seated behind them. Robin leaned forward and stole some of Eddie’s french fries.

“I think we’re in trouble,” she whispered. She was only half joking. They weren’t supposed to be there; Steve didn’t want either of them associated with a demon. But Robin was not about to let Steve face even fake demon hunters completely alone. And - coward or not - neither was Eddie.

He shushed her, keeping an eye on Steve as he sat down at the hunters’ table.

“I read the contract you signed with Susan Mayfield. Book rights to her daughter's story for a flat fee? Seriously? My deals are more fair.” Steve was facing away from them, so Eddie had to imagine the smug expression on his face. The older couple looked confused.

“Your deals?” The man asked, like maybe he hadn’t put it together yet.

“I’m sitting here right in front of you and you still have no idea.” Steve shook his head. “And you call yourself demon hunters. I knew you were just con artists.”

Understanding dawn on the woman first.

“You’re the demon,” she said, fear in her voice. “The one who killed those kids.”

“I am a demon. But no, I haven’t killed any kids in Hawkins,” Steve corrected. “Those three dead kids, the Mayfield girl’s injuries, that really was a human. People can be evil all on their own, you know.”

“Why should we believe you?” the man asked. He didn’t appear as afraid as his wife, but Eddie was an expert on posturing. The guy was about thirty seconds away from shitting his pants.

“Believe, don’t believe. I don’t give a fuck. I’m not here to keep you from writing your little book and ripping off the American public with your absolutely true demon stories.” Eddie would bet good money Steve was rolling his eyes. “I’m here about this.”

Robin nearly turned around to see what Steve was holding even though she knew what it would be. Eddie kicked her ankle and she turned back.

“You see,” Steve went on, “I made a deal with the Mayfield girl’s brother. It means I owe her a certain amount of protection. So this contract you sweet-talked her mom into signing? We’re going to rework the terms. I’m thinking percent off the gross?”

-----------

Notes:

"that possession and murder case" refers to the Arne Johnson murder trial, where the defense tried to argue the killer had been possessed by a demon. The book was titled The Devil in Connecticut and published in 1983. It's also the inspiration for one of the Conjuring films.

Allegedly (and I'm not doing enough research to confirm it because this six hundred word story has enough notes already) the Warrens paid people flat fees for the rights to their stories and then made bank themselves off of books and films about the 'hauntings' and 'possessions.' Frankly, everything I've read about them makes them sound like unscrupulous con artists.

"two-bit ring from a cracker jack box" is a reference to a Firesign Theatre sketch (The Further Adventures of Nick Danger) released in 1969; Robin knows it from her parents.

Two-bit means cheap in general, but also two-bits refers to a quarter, so when Eddie says he paid fifty cents for the ring he's saying it cost twice as much as Robin implied (still pretty cheap)

I doubt Eddie knows for sure what alloy any of his rings are made of, but cheap jewelry often contains nickel, and nickel can turn your skin green.

"percent off the gross" is revenue percentage rather than a percentage of the profit, so Max can't be cheated out of money via creative accounting.

[nicnak20]

An infant's guide to survival; Daycare:

*Luke, a sophisticated six-month-old with a deep desire to be accepted into Baby Bumble's cool group of one-year olds. But the only problem is his overly affectionate father, Nicholas, who doesn't seem to understand the social hierarchy of baby-coolness.*

Luke's POV

Okay, so here’s the deal. I’m Luke. Six months old. And I know what you’re thinking: six months? What could he possibly know? Trust me, I know things. Things that would blow your adult mind. Like, for example, the true cost of avocado toast (daylight robbery) and the inherent unfairness of naptime (a blatant power play). But most importantly, I know about the pecking order at Baby Bumble’s, the local baby group, and my dad, bless his cotton socks, is actively sabotaging my social climb.

Let me paint you a picture. Baby Bumble’s is held every Tuesday and Thursday in a brightly colored room that smells faintly of disinfectant and pureed sweet potato. It’s a battlefield. A tiny, drool-soaked, rattle-filled battlefield where the one-year-olds reign supreme. They’ve got the mobility, the vocabulary (limited, but impactful), and most importantly, the attitude. They are the cool kids, the influencers, the tiny titans of tot-dom. And I, Luke, aspire to be among them.

My biggest obstacle? Nicholas. My dad. A man whose heart is as big as his biceps (he does CrossFit, you know, for me…apparently, I need a dad who can flip tires). He’s a good dad. A great dad, even. He changes my diapers with the speed and precision of a Formula One pit crew, he can sing all the verses to “Baby Shark” without pausing for breath, and he genuinely believes that my drool bubbles are works of art.

The problem is, he's also utterly, hopelessly, mortifyingly uncool.

This morning, for instance, started like any other. I was strategically positioned on my playmat, practicing my best "I'm pondering the existential absurdity of existence" face. It's a nuanced look, involving a slight furrow of the brow and a faraway gaze directed vaguely towards the ceiling fan. It’s a look that says, "I'm wise beyond my months. Approach with respect."

Then Nicholas bounced into the room, singing. Not just any singing, mind you. This was a full-blown, opera-worthy rendition of “Lukey-Wukey-Dukey’s Morning Song,” complete with dramatic vibrato and exaggerated facial expressions.

I groaned internally. My meticulously crafted aura of sophisticated baby-thinker was instantly shattered.

“Good morning, my little snuggle muffin!” Nicholas boomed, swooping me up in a hug that nearly cut off my air supply. “Did you have a good sleepy-weepy nighty-night? Did you dream of milkies and blankies and cuddly-wuddly bear?”

I flailed my arms in protest, but it was no use. The damage was done. My reputation was hanging by a thread thinner than a single strand of my perfectly tousled (thanks to my dad's obsessive hair-brushing) brown hair.

Baby Bumble’s was even worse. I had spotted Leo. Leo. The undisputed king of the one-year-olds. He’s got this swagger, this air of effortless cool that is simply mesmerizing. He can smash a tower of wooden blocks with the gravitas of a seasoned demolition expert. He can spit out pureed peas with the artistic flair of Jackson Pollock. He. Is. The. Man.

I was attempting to catch his eye, trying to convey a subtle message of camaraderie with a carefully placed grab for my rattle (a power move, indicating I’m not afraid to wield noise), when Nicholas decided to intervene.

“Oh, look, Lukey-Poo! It’s Leo! Say hi to Leo, my sweetums!”

He then proceeded to thrust me forward, practically shoving me into Leo’s personal space. Leo, who was in the middle of meticulously examining a particularly intriguing piece of lint on the carpet, looked up with an expression of pure disdain.

My face burned with shame. I wanted to burrow into the soft, squishy depths of the playmat and disappear.

“He’s just being shy,” Nicholas chirped, oblivious to my inner turmoil. “He’s just a little love bug! Aren’t you, my little snuggle bunny?” He then proceeded to plant a loud, wet kiss on my cheek.

I swear, I could practically hear Leo snickering.

The rest of the session was a disaster. Every time I tried to engage in some crucial baby-world networking – like attempting to steal a strategically placed teething ring from a rival or engaging in a staring contest with a particularly grumpy eight-month-old – Nicholas would swoop in with another round of embarrassing affection.

“Are you having fun, Lukey-Lukey-Loo? Are you making new friends? Let Daddy help you show them your widdle toys!”

He then produced my squeaky giraffe, Geri, and proceeded to make it “dance” in front of the other babies. Geri is not a dancing giraffe. Geri is a stoic, dignified giraffe who prefers to be gnawed on in quiet contemplation. Nicholas was completely misrepresenting her.

The final straw came during snack time. We were all seated in a circle, happily (well, mostly happily) munching on our assorted purees. I had managed to position myself next to Chloe, a sophisticated eleven-month-old with a penchant for designer bibs and a surprisingly advanced understanding of object permanence. Things were finally looking up.

Then Nicholas pulled out my special homemade puree.

“Look, everyone! Lukey-Baba is having Daddy’s special organic butternut squash and quinoa delight! It’s full of all sorts of yummy-tummy vitamins!”

He then proceeded to spoon-feed me with an enthusiasm that bordered on aggressive. Chloe, who was delicately savoring a pre-packaged jar of mango puree, wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“He’s just a little messy eater!” Nicholas exclaimed, wiping a stray splodge of orange puree from my chin with a wet wipe. “But he’s such a good boy! Aren’t you, my little pumpkin pie?”

At that moment, I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell him that I was not a pumpkin pie, that I was perfectly capable of feeding myself (albeit messily), and that his over-the-top affection was ruining my life. But all that came out was a gurgle of protest and a mouthful of half-digested butternut squash.

As we were leaving, I saw Leo giving me the look. The pitying, condescending look that says, "You poor, unfortunate soul. Your dad is a walking, talking embarrassment."

I slumped in my car seat, defeated. I knew I had a long road ahead of me if I ever wanted to achieve baby-world social dominance. I needed to stage an intervention. I needed to sit Nicholas down and explain, in the clearest, most baby-friendly terms possible, the importance of maintaining a certain level of cool.

Maybe I could write him a sternly worded letter. Or perhaps… a PowerPoint presentation with helpful visuals?

The ride home was quiet. I stared out the window, contemplating my future. California sunshine streamed through the glass, but all I could see was the looming shadow of my dad’s relentless affection.

Then, Nicholas started singing again. This time, it was a low, gentle lullaby. And as he sang, he stroked my hair and gazed at me with those endlessly loving brown eyes.

And I realized something. Maybe, just maybe, being the cool kid wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Maybe having a dad who showered you with affection, even if it was slightly mortifying, was actually pretty great.

But still… the “Lukey-Wukey-Dukey Song” had to go. That was non-negotiable. I am only 6 months old, after all, and can only take so much.

*Lemme know if you like this style of writing and Luke's POV!!*

[chiyuuchu]

Kazuha meets his match <3 (31st July 2024)

Kadehara Kazuha x Reader

Prompt! Accompanying Aether to Liyue, Kazuha takes an interest in the traveler’s peer.

Aether and Kazuha had just arrived in Liyue, marveling at the bustling cityscape and its rich cultural vibrancy. The sun dipped low, casting golden hues over the rooftops and streets, as they wandered in search of a place to eat.

Aether suggested they visit a quaint diner he’d heard about, known for its traditional Liyue cuisine and warm atmosphere. As they entered, the scent of sizzling dishes and fragrant spices greeted them.

Seated at a cozy corner table, they were served a variety of delectable dishes. Amidst their meal, Aether’s eyes fell on a familiar figure just a few tables away. Y/N, a local dancer renowned for her traditional performances, was enjoying a meal with her friends—Hutao, Yanfei, Yunjin, Xiangling, and Xingqiu.

With a smile, Aether nudged Kazuha. “That’s Y/N. She’s a local dancer and knows all about Liyue’s traditions. She might be able to give us some insights into what i’m trying to figure out.”

Kazuha, intrigued, watched as Aether approached Y/N’s table with a friendly wave. “Y/N! Over here!”

Y/N looked up, her eyes sparkling with recognition as she saw Aether. “Aether! It’s so good to see you! And you must be...?”

Kazuha stepped forward with a charming grin. “Kazuha, at your service. It’s a pleasure to meet you, lady Y/N.”

“It’s very nice to meet you Kazuha. Say, aren’t you that wanted criminal at Inazuma? I’m sure Aether has told me about that before.” Y/n tilts her head with curiosity.

“I must admit, I’ve been told I have a knack for getting into trouble,” he said with a playful glint in his eye. “So, tell me, Y/N, do you think you’re into bad guys?”

Y/N laughed, a warm and melodic sound that seemed to harmonize with the ambient music. “Well, that’s certainly an intriguing introduction. But I do suppose it depends on how you define trouble.”

“Maybe I could show you sometime.” Kazuha said in his soft spoken voice.

Aether thought to himself: ‘He is definitely downbad.’

“Hey Y/n! Do you think we can join your dinner table tonight? I have not been in Liyue for quite some time.” Aether interrupted, clearly trying to get out of the sudden third wheeling position he was in.

“I suppose that I don’t see why not.” Y/n smiles.

As Kazuha and Aether joined Y/N and her friends, the table was filled with lively conversation and laughter. Hutao, ever the playful spirit, greeted Kazuha with a mischievous smile.

“Ah, another traveler! What brings you to our humble gathering?” she asked, her eyes twinkling.

Aether chimed in, “Kazuha here is just tagging along with me. We’re exploring Liyue and thought we’d drop by. Y/N has been gracious enough to let us join in.”

Yanfei, ever the legal expert and mediator, added, “It’s always nice to meet new people. And if Aether says you’re interesting, I’m sure you are.”

Kazuha’s eyes sparkled with interest. “I hope I can live up to the expectations. It seems like I’m in excellent company.”

Yunjin, with her grace and poise, nodded. “Now where were we? Oh! Y/N, tell us about your dance performances. I’ve heard they’re quite spectacular.”

Y/N’s face lit up as she spoke. “Oh, I’m very fortunate to perform traditional dances that celebrate Liyue’s heritage. It’s a blend of storytelling and art that connects us with our history.”

Xiangling, her eyes bright with curiosity, leaned forward. “I’ve heard you’re also gotten even more skilled with your polearm and Pyro vision. That’s a fascinating combination! How does that blend with your performances?” she quickly rambles with her enthusiasm.

Y/N nodded, clearly proud. “Yes, I sometimes do try to apply my abilities to add a dramatic flair to my dances. The fire especially help me to convey the message of the stories I perform.”

Kazuha, intrigued by this revelation, leaned in slightly. “Pyro wielding and a polearm applied into an artistic dance, you say? That sounds like a truly impressive combination. I must admit, I’m quite fascinated by it.”

Hutao raised an eyebrow, teasingly. “Careful, Kazuha. You might end up wanting to join one of Y/N’s performances yourself.”

Kazuha chuckled, his attention fixed on Y/N. “If it means I get to see such a talented performer in action, I just might take you up on that offer.”

As the evening progressed and the wine flowed, Kazuha's flirtatious nature became more evident. With a slightly tipsy grin, he turned to Y/N. “I must say, your talents and beauty are truly mesmerizing. I can’t help but be enchanted.”

Y/N laughed softly, clearly enjoying the company. “And what about you, Kazuha? What makes you such an intriguing person?”

Kazuha���s gaze softened as he took a sip of his drink. “Well, besides my charming self, I suppose it’s the sense of adventure and the appreciation for poetry that drives me. And tonight, I find myself captivated by someone who has stolen my attention so seamlessly.”

With a tipsy grin, Kazuha leaned in closer to Y/N, his words slightly slurred. “You know, Y/N, I have to say, your presence here makes this meal all the more delightful. I can’t help but feel that fate has a funny way of bringing people together.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed slightly as she smiled, clearly enjoying Kazuha’s attention. “And what do you think fate has in store for us tonight?”

Kazuha’s gaze softened as he looked at her, his flirtation taking on a more genuine tone. “Perhaps it’s simply a chance to enjoy each other’s company. But if you’re open to it, I’d love to hear more about your life in Liyue. I’m sure there’s much I can learn from someone as captivating as you.”

“If you insist Kazuha.” Y/n can’t help but smile.

The evening continued with laughter, stories, and more wine. Kazuha’s charm and Y/N’s warmth created a delightful atmosphere, making the night unforgettable for everyone involved. As they parted ways, Kazuha made sure to express his appreciation.

“This has been a delightful evening. I’m grateful to have met such fascinating individuals. And Y/N, your company has made the most of my night.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed slightly as she smiled. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, Kazuha. It was a pleasure getting to know you. If you’re ever free, you know where to find me.”

With a final wave, Kazuha bid farewell, leaving Y/N with a memorable impression and a sense of anticipation for what future encounters might bring.

The next week, Aether, having wrapped up his business in Liyue, went out in attempt to find Kazuha so they could sail back to Inazuma. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the city. He decided to check in with Beidou at her dock, hoping she might have seen his friend.

“Beidou, have you seen Kazuha around?” Aether asked as he approached the ship captain, who was overseeing the final preparations for departure.

Beidou looked up with a knowing smile. “Ah, Kazuha? He’s been out and about with that dancer girl—Y/N, right? They seemed pretty interested in each other’s company. I got to give it to him, I never took Kazuha as a guy interested romance.”

Aether’s curiosity was piqued. “A dancer girl? Where might I find them?”

Beidou pointed towards a nearby park. “They were headed towards the fountain area. You should find them there.”

Aether thanked her and made his way to the park. As he approached the fountain, he noticed Kazuha and Y/N sitting on the edge, laughing together. The fountain’s soft splashes and the twilight cast a romantic glow over the scene.

Kazuha was holding a small, wrapped bundle and, with a playful grin, presented it to Y/N. “I made this for you. I hope you like it.”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled as she unwrapped the gift, revealing a delicate handmade bracelet. “It’s beautiful, Kazuha. Thank you so much.”

As they continued to exchange laughter and warm words, Aether decided to make his presence known. He cleared his throat, walking up with a friendly smile. “Kazuha, we’re about to set sail. Time to come back to Inazuma.”

Kazuha looked up, slightly startled but still smiling. “Ah, Aether. I guess our time here has come to an end. But I’m glad we had this moment.”

Y/N gave them both a warm smile. “It was lovely meeting you, Aether. I hope you both have a safe journey and do let me know when you both will visit again.”

Kazuha rose. “I’ll make an effort to make that soon, my lady.” Giving Y/N one last, lingering glance before following Aether. As they walked away, Aether couldn’t help but ask, “So, how was your little date?”

Kazuha chuckled, his gaze still drifting back towards Y/N. “It was quite delightful. I believe we made some.. rather interesting memories.”

The two headed back towards the docks.

“I’d definitely come back just to see her dances again and perhaps maybe more.” Kazuha smiled mischievously.