#though there's so little detail on it that I've made up most of what is here

[spiritsong]

day one: name, part one

#Veilguard30 by @pavus · rook dev prompt

word count: 1.5k What follows is my attempt to weave together my pre-established backstory for my mortalitasi Rook with the Mourn Watch backstory — that of the child found in a tomb. It got pretty long, so I'm splitting in two parts; part two will come tomorrow. read part two here!

In 9:13 Dragon, the fortress of Bownammar falls. It is the beginning.

The most vigilant of dwarven scholars warn that it is a sign. Some people cast the scholars’ worries aside with a wave of their hand. The fortress has fallen to the darkspawn before and reclaimed just as often.

Others heed their warnings. Their people understood what it was to live amidst perpetual threat. To brush it off with no great concern was tantamount to opening your home to the great evil standing on the doorstep.

Still, the most privileged and powerful amongst them were shielded in the safety of their enduring thaigs, unwilling to face the truth when there were always more pressing issues in closer proximity.

As for the surface races, as for the human societies that reigned in the land above, well… they were not even afforded such warnings. They never cared to hear them.

It takes several months for the news to reach the cult. 

The omen traveled across the Waking Sea to the streets of Cumberland, a city swollen with life. It cut its way through plains both fertile and dead. The omen breezes past ears and passes through lips, at times in hushed whispers, often fearful, often disbelieving. 

For all the power of a message set on the wind, it must eventually peter out and find its end, but not before the omen is finally breathed with the relief one feels at the arrival of something long awaited.

The Maker would grant them mercy at last.

The cult never stayed in one place for too long. 

In the beginning, their numbers were few and this made them invisible. The early resurgence of a cult is a vulnerable thing, and so they clung to the shadows for protection. Still, His Word must be made to take root in any who were receptive. 

It was a delicate balance, but often, they needed to do little more than hold their arms out, and the wretched and downtrodden would walk into the fold. Suffering was always open and wanting. 

They welcomed the destitute, the grieving, the indentured and enslaved, the lost and misguided; any who were broken or alone or homesick for something they had never known. 

The dwarves and elves and humans were nearly equal in number. The humans, for all the power they held on the surface, were unwilling to share their good fortunes with the lowest of their kind. 

The elves were certainly no strangers to suffering, forced to live atop one another in the most squalid corners of the human cities, their numbers whittled down by their oppressors as had been done countless times before. 

The dwarves came from those who were forced upon the surface, either in recent memory or generations before. They were exiles from their ancestral homes, unwanted by their kin and unwanted by the Stone. 

There were some who were neither poor or despairing or powerless; they only craved more power and thought to find it through the cult. They were ambitious would-be magisters, mostly. Some were Nevarran death mages who had lost their path. 

There was even a pair of Grey Wardens — one whose head swam with the Song in nearly all his waking hours, and another who was new to the order, but did not take to it. She was looking for a way out, though she did not know it. 

The others did not know what to make of the Wardens. Did the Maker lift them above all else? They were granted with the gift, and yet, did they not affront the generosity of the Maker when they refused to let the Blessing spread through every corner of their bodies and every corner of the land? 

The rest of the cult kept the Wardens at a distance nonetheless; set apart, either as guide or pariah.

The cult traveled and the cult grew and the cult waited. The waiting was what they did best of all. But it was different this time, to know what once seemed unreachable was now portended. 

As time passed, the patience of devotees transformed into the patience of desperate fanatics. And as the organism grew and the meager shadows of the surface world refused to hold them any longer, they descended.

Perhaps this is where it all went wrong. Some argued it was too soon — why would they jeopardize what had been centuries in the making by allowing themselves such temptation?

And yet others asked if there were any greater than them who deserved to be the first to give offering to their Maker. 

But it was preached that there was no such thing as deserving — there was only the void, the darkness, the abyss. There was only the Blight.

For amongst the Maker’s gifts was plague and pestilence, but none so sacred as the gift of the Blight. 

It was not selective nor prejudiced; it was indiscriminate and undiscerning. If there was to be a question of worth, then it should be centered on their inherent unworthiness. 

They were nothing. They were Empty.

The Maker had turned His gaze from them. The masses played at falsities, pretending as though their existences were anything but cold and meaningless without the Maker’s love.

His gift was a wave of endings to wash upon an undeserving world. 

But as the cult traversed the tunnels that snaked through soil and stone, as they anxiously pressed up against the ceiling of the earth as they waited and waited and waited—

—the Wardens grew restless.

And the others grew frenzied.

The Song, the Song, the Song! It was all the Wardens spoke of, and all the humility and piety of the world could not hold under the weight of longing for the end of all things.

It began with the flesh.

If one took in the flesh of the Maker’s gift often enough, His Song slips through the earth, seeking His most devoted.

To feel His breath upon the ear, to hear His voice at last… it was enough to bring them to their knees, tears falling as their arms raised high, grasping for their God.

They scavenged for the flesh where they could, but they grew greedy. It wasn’t enough. 

Then one ran off into the darkness, and another, and another — they ran into the arms of the Maker’s army; the vessels through which his Gift is spread.

It was too early, the wiser amongst them said, but few listened.

And one day they drew too close. 

The Child remembered little. 

There was perhaps a Mother and a Father, though the Child knew them by no such names. Their faces were long lost, but their vague outlines stood against the shadows that overtook most of the Child’s memories.

Sometimes, the not-Mother and the not-Father brought the shadows. The Child would rather not remember those.

The Child remembered a time when the sun touched their back. Sometimes it was itchy, and sometimes it was so warm and welcome, the Child wished to press back against the heat.

The Child remembered light. They remembered something that was not stone beneath their feet. Grass, soft and forgiving. Dirt, packed and easy to walk upon. Mud that tried to eat the Child. Sand, a little like the mud in that it was uneager to let go, though not as yucky and uncomfortable.

The Child remembered the things that they lacked. A plush bear, its worn and weathered arm held tenderly in the grip of a Girl, face similarly dirtied as the Child’s own. 

The Girl had a Mother and a Father, and there were other children, too. Brother. Sister. This was called a family, the Child knew.

There was something else the Girl had and the Child didn’t, though the Child floundered for the language to describe it, snatching each word as it flew by, letting them go when they didn’t fit.

“What is that?” the Child asked the not-Mother. 

They stood on the edge of the busy city street. There was stone beneath their feet then, too, but this stone was flat and similarly shaped and all nestled against each other.

The Child pointed at the Girl. “That’s like… that’s like the sun…” 

The Child’s hand waved through the air, fingers opening and closing as they struggled to explain. 

The Child’s nubby fingers pressed against the rough fabric at their chest, the movements akin to that of clawing. “And this, this isn’t like the sun. This is like at night, when it’s cold and the sun is sleeping.”

The not-Mother’s lips crooked up into something like a smile, though her eyes reflected the same feeling the Child was trying to describe — that is, they reflected nothing at all.

“That’s called being empty,” the not-Mother said. “That is what you are. Empty.” 

[shannonpurdyjones]

One side effect of my research for this novel being steeped heavily in textile history is my swelling disgust with modern fabrics.

Firstly they're so thin? Like most things you see in Old Navy or even department stores might as well be tissue paper?? Even some branded sports t-shirts I've bought in recent years (that are supposed to be 'official apparel' and allegedly decent quality) are definitely not going to hold up more than a year or two without getting little holes from wear.

This side of even two hundred years ago fabrics were made to be used for YEARS, and that's with wearing them way more often because you only owned like three sets of clothes. They were thick and well made and most importantly made to LAST. And they were gorgeous?? Some of the weaves were so fine and the drape so buttery we still don't entirely know how these people managed to make them BY HAND. Not to mention intricate patterning and details that turned even some simple garments into freaking ART.

I know this is not news, the fast fashion phenomenon is well documented. Reading so much about the amazing fabrics we used to create and how we cherished and valued them, though, is making it hard not to mourn what we lost to mass production and capitalism. Not just the quality of the clothing and fabrics themselves, but the generations of knowledge and techniques that are just gone. It makes me what to cry.

I need to get a sewing machine.

[reiderwriter]

hii I absolutely love your writing!! I was wondering if you could write a one shot with gun kink? maybe not really something *aggressive* but just gun kink in the plot !! and please smut with no angst, also maybe aftercare in the end? it's totally okay if you're not comfortable. im loving your kinktober one shots! have a good day :)

A/N: This being one of like... three gun kink requests I've received, we are all not seeing the pearly gates lmao. If you enjoy reading this, even 50% of how much I enjoyed writing it, then I'm happy 😚

Warnings: Undercover FBI Agent reader, gun kink, interrogation room sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, some BDSM themes, Spencer has to 'rough up' the reader etc.

Masterlist

Being rough-housed by a group of FBI agents and pushed against a wall before being handcuffed was never your idea of a fun Tuesday night. It wasn't exactly high on the list for any night of the week, really, but here you were. 

“Caitlyn Grant? You're under arrest for being an accessory to a felony and evading law enforcement, whatever you say…” You drowned out the rest of the statement. It was nothing you didn't have memorized. 

“You're not the usual drug crew, and you don't look sturdy enough to be on most of the other teams either. What part of the Bureau are you in?” You asked the lanky man currently pinning you to the wall as he made sure your handcuffs were aptly tight. 

“You have the right to an attorney, if you can't afford one-” 

“I waive my rights. It's not human trafficking. You wouldn't be working this case if you were human trafficking.” 

The man just stared at you in vague disapproval as you grinned back at him. His closeness meant you could see every detail of his face up close, the five o'clock shadow, the dark circles from lack of sleep. On most of the agents you'd encountered, it had the effect of making them look older, a little haggard, and depressed. On this man, it was honestly very hot. 

He started your pat down by spreading your legs, though honestly, if he'd asked nicely enough, you'd have done just that for him. You near enough told him just that as he reached the two pockets on the ass of your jeans. 

“Watch it, Agent, my bite is worse than my bark.” 

“Turn around.” 

You pouted at his solid resolve, wondering what it would take to get the man to crack a smile or even a frown. Something that wasn't just disinterest slapped on a face and called a day. 

You did as he asked, making sure your body pressed nicely up against his the entire way until your shoulders were resting on the wall and he was feeling along your waist. 

“Come on, what kind of weapon are you going to find there?”

“Standard protocol, please let me do my job.”

“Standard protocol is calling one of your female agents over here to maintain the boundary, Agent. This feels more like you're just trying to cop a feel.” 

Those words finally got a reaction. The subtle clench of the jaw as his hands tightened slightly on your waist had you suddenly regretting your decision to be put in handcuffs. Your hands should've been free to tuck the stray lock of hair that had fallen in his eyes behind his ear, free so your fingernails could trace a path down his face and neck and chest. 

His gaze landed on the simple silver chain you wore around your list and he delicately pulled it out of your shirt, careful not to touch you (and avoiding you even as you arched your back into him). 

With a quick tug, he pulled the necklace clean off your neck, not pausing to bother with the clasp at all. 

“Clever boy. I'll see you in the interrogation room, shall I?” He said nothing as the female agents you'd mentioned earlier stationed themselves on either side of you as you walked away. You didn't break eye contact until the doors to the police van closed behind you. 

Six months undercover on a case, and this was the first time you'd stepped foot in a police precinct since you'd ditched your real name and life. 

The interrogation rooms hadn't changed in that time, at least, still grey and depressing. Time felt void as you waited for company, and thankfully, you weren't waiting long.

“Agent Y/N, sorry about the arrest, we wanted to make it look as real as possible while pulling you out.” The woman who greeted you obviously held the authority, and while you wanted to respect that, the sight of the man trailing behind her actually caught her full attention. 

“Pleasure to meet you….?” You let the question hang open for both of them but kept your gaze fully focused on the man, who stood himself next to the door, keeping surprisingly quiet. 

“I'm Unit Chief Emily Prentiss, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, we're from the-” 

“Behavioural Analysis Unit, of course. I was close, you know, earlier. A face like yours wouldn't last five minutes in cartel land. I almost guessed cyber, but you looked a bit too bookish. Doctor Reid, hmm.” 

“This interview is taking place with Agent Prentiss. Please direct all your questions to her.”

“Oh shit, sorry, where are my manners. I didn't mean to disrespect you like that, Agent Prentiss. It's just been a long few months.”

The other woman just chuckled and shook her head, leafing through some documents to pass you over the information on the case they needed assistance on. 

“We think there's a serial killer in the drug ring you infiltrated,” the woman explained, passing over the files with the case details. You took a moment's breath before opening to the crime scene photos, steeling yourself for what you might encounter. 

“There are probably a lot of serials in the organization. It's a drug ring. What makes this one worse?” You said, just as you flipped the file open and answered your own question. 

“Shit- Okay, that's what makes this one worse. He can't be more than 15, right?” 

The answering grimace on the two agents' faces suggested you'd been generous in your estimate. “Okay, how can I help?” 

xxxxx 

A few hours passed in the interrogation room, and you'd walked them through all of your up to date information on your case and cover. The chair wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were glad to be finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. The interview was ending, and you could see an end to your undercover work swiftly following too with the BAU's assistance. 

You weren't looking forward to having to acclimatize back into the real world. You'd gone from pushing papers at a desk 9 hours a day to rubbing shoulders with drug dealers and junkies, a lot of whom were kids, young people like you who had no other options than the streets and crime. 

You made a mental note to give a few warnings to the younger kids on the streets to stay alert and then started getting back into character. 

“Thanks again for your help, Agent. We appreciate your time.” Prentiss nodded at you as she gathered the folders, getting ready to leave. 

Spencer Reid stood, too, stretching himself out as he rose from the chair, giving you quite the show as your eyes dragged from his face, down his chest and down further still as you appreciated the view. 

The last few hours had been strictly professional, and you'd enjoyed bouncing ideas off of him, running through theories. Now, trying to get back into your ‘lusty barmaid’ persona, you thought instead about how much you'd like to bounce on him yourself, possibly while running your hands through his hair. 

A girl could dream. 

“Hold on a second, I'm still in cover, I can't go back out there looking this pristine, it's too suspicious,” you said, the two agents turning back to you curiously. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Someone needs to throw me around a little. Rough housing, you know, a few bruises will do it.” 

Prentiss looked at you, caught halfway between impressed and amused. The good Doctor however seemed to darken slightly, covering his shock with a tensed jaw. 

“She's all yours, Spencer,” Wmily winked at the man, turning the door handle and beginning her exit.

“What? Why?” 

“I don't hit women.” 

“And I do? Emily, wha-” 

But the door to the interrogation room has already closed with a small cackle, and you're already being drawn closer to the man like a moth to a flame. 

Turning to face you, you see the shock of the situation on his face before he looks away in a flash, refusing to meet your eyes as he keeps himself close to the door. 

“Doctor Reid, I'm not actually a criminal, you know?” 

“I thought you wanted one of us to treat you like a criminal now.” 

“You make a good point, shall we begin?” 

He signed and rubbed his temples as you advanced, letting you get a little bit closer before holding his hands up in surrender. 

“Wait, wait, tell me first, what should we be doing?” 

You took a deep breath and expelled it, then took the time to think about it. 

You would need some visible marks of the FBI's unkindness - wrists red, a bruise or two on your knees, maybe, from falling. The problem was, you couldn't think about how to get the marks without driving yourself insane. 

There was a quick and easy way to get tender knees, an even easier way to mark up your neck and chest, but you couldn't figure out how to ask Spencer Reid to do those things without spreading your legs and letting him do whatever he wanted. You weren't sure you wouldn't do that eventually, anyway.

“Let's start with my wrists. You were too generous with the handcuffs earlier - just grab them really tight, pin me against the wall if it helps.”

He nodded and took a hesitant step towards you, thinking for a second, before grabbing one wrist and spinning you around. Before you could even process the action, he had you pinned, chest against the wall, arms above your head. 

“Is that okay?” He asked, his grip tight  but not bruising yet. 

“A little tighter, I want the marks to last a while. Why is my face against the wall?” 

He gripped tighter, the pain sending a jolt through your wrists that trailed all the way down to pool between your thighs. 

“I thought you'd be less uncomfortable like this.” 

“With your dick pushed up against my ass? Yes, Doctor, great decision.” 

He let out a cold, quick laugh, leaving you flushed as he pushed your upper body into the wall, too, finally getting to the grip strength he needed to get attention. 

“I'm sorry to disappoint, Y/N, but that's my gun,” the words whispered in your ear were the last straw as you shuddered in his grasp, his hands releasing your wrists as he stepped back a little. 

You shook out your hands a little, trying to momentarily relive the stiffness in your joints. 

He took a few paces to the desk and upholstered his weapon, placing it on the desk before joining you again. 

“So you don't get confused again,” he explained at seeing your raised eyebrow. 

“Oh so next time, it will be your dick?” You whispered, moving back to the desk and sitting yourself on the edge or it, picking up the gun and studying it for a few minutes. 

“Y/N, put it down.” 

“Ooh, possessive, are we?” You giggled, aiming it at him for a second before grabbing it by the barrel and holding it back out for him to grab. 

“Hold it, point it at me or whatever. Maybe it'll help you rough me up.” 

His brow furrowed, but he grabbed it anyway, not immediately slipping it into the holster as he stepped forward. 

“What now?” He asked, and you shrugged. 

“Whatever feels natural. And looks visible, I guess.”

It took him a few minutes to decide, surveying your body like it was a puzzle. Professionally, of course. You were about to speak up and urge him to get on with it when his hand shot out and wrapped around your throat. 

You tried to gasp, but the grip was firm, and boy, was it driving you crazy. Your legs had naturally parted as you sat yourself on the edge of the desk, and he walked into that space now, his free hand still holding the gun. 

Your body pushed forward into his, suddenly awash with arousal as your chest heaved with tiny breaths, lungs burning. 

“Are you enjoying this, Y/N? Or is it Caitlyn Grant that's enjoying this?” 

You felt the gun touch your thigh gently, and you moaned, just as he softened his grip on your throat. 

“Answer me, please. This is an interrogation room, after all.”

You met his eyes, checking to see how far he would take this, how far you could push back. 

“I'll admit, I'm not against mixing pain and pleasure.” 

His gaze flicked down, slowly pushing his gun up the skin of your thigh, raising your skirt with the barrel to catch a quick glimpse of your panties. 

“I can tell.” 

If it weren't for his grip on you, you'd have lunged for him right then and there. The cool metal against your thigh had you shuddering against him, growing wetter by the minute. 

“I read somewhere once that we can't pretend to be someone else without actually becoming them in some small way. You've been a cartel whore for six months, I wonder if this is a lasting effect.” 

He was so close now all he needed to do to close the gap was change the angle of his head, but he kept you in place with that gun, pointing up from your pussy, flush against your stomach. 

“I'll tell you a secret - the part of me that's aroused right now definitely predates this cover.” 

His lips drop to yours, tongue clashing with yours furiously as he grabs the back of your head to angle you better. 

Letting his hand drop back to your thigh, he gently coaxed you further open, skirt riding up. Putting down the gym momentarily, he pressed a wandering finger against your pantie-clad pussy, feeling your arousal before he used it to coat his fingers. 

A second later and the offending pair of underwear lay discarded on the floor. 

“Fuck, Spencer,” you said, gasping for breath as he again picked up the gun. 

“You wanted this so badly, didn't you? You've been needing someone to treat you like this for months now. It didn't even have to be me.” 

He traced circles on your thigh with the gun, and you twitched, years of training not letting you relax around the weapon and months of sexual frustration, making you desperate for something to touch you. 

“Yes, yes, please touch me.” 

The hand at your throat slid down to your chest and pushed gently  urging you to lie back and let him do whatever he wanted with you. The desk was cold - metal biting at your bare skin - and it only sent more shivers down your spine as he lowered himself to his knees and parted your legs for his tongue. 

The first touch was heaven, a state of bliss you'd been without in what felt like forever. His tongue danced across your folds as he tasted every inch of your exposed cunt, grip still strong on the gun pointed now to your chest, pinning you between the machine and the table. 

You tried to be as still as possible, to take the pleasure he gave calmly, but you couldn't. You writhed, moaned, chest heaving as you tried to hold off the first orgasm you'd achieved with someone else in probably a year.  

Like a man on a mission, Spencer Reid did not care. He gladly suffocated between your thighs as you squeezed them together, wrapping them around his head so you could keep feeling the insurmountable pleasure of his tongue on your pussy. 

“Spencer…Spencer, fuck-” you said as he finally pried your legs apart, lifting them just slightly so his tongue could reach further inside of you, curling with each wave of passion. Your hands fisted his hair, desperate for something to ground you to the moment as your pleasure spilt out of you, orgasm jolting through you in tiny sparks of pleasure. 

The gun moved first, coming level with your chest as you untangled your fingers from his hair. Spencer stood, wiping his face with the back of his hand as he kept the gun on you. 

“I think this turns you on even more. You've been ruined by this cover, Y/N, you're so used to being in danger that you can't even get off without someone threatening you.” 

You attempted to scoff, to brush off his words somehow, but his hand was suddenly back around your throat, picking you up off the desk and pulling you instead towards the room's one-way window. 

“Look at yourself,” he said, again twisting you around so you were pressed into the wall, wrists above your hair, raising your shirt to expose the cold skin underneath. He ran the barrel across the fresh skin, leaving a field of goosebumps along his path. 

“I don't think it would've mattered who came in to rough you up. I think you'd just as happily have convinced Emily to fuck your little pussy raw, right Y/N? As long as there was a gun…” 

Your moan was the only response as he used the weapon to spread your legs. You naturally arched your back and kept your hands in place as he holstered the weapon momentarily to unzip his pants and let his cock free. 

You couldn't see it, but you saw his reflection in the mirror as he slowly stretched you out with it, mouth dropping in a lustful ‘o’ as he fed his dick to you, hard and thick. 

As soon as it was in, the gun came back out, this time to rest against your temple. 

“Get yourself off,” his voice was so low it was practically a growl. “Use my cock, and pleasure yourself.” 

Your body listened immediately, beginning to move back and forth on his cock as he held himself in place. His moans and groans were all the encouragements you needed, the gun at your temple was just made the pleasure more profound as you approached your release. 

But he kept you pinned to the glass, your full range of motion limited, and you whimpered in frustration that you couldn't feel every inch of him. 

“If you need something, use your words, Agent.” 

“More, need more, please..please,” you gasped, breathing ragged. 

The hands at your wrists released, and he fisted a hand into the flesh at your hip, your wrists resting on the glass next to your face as he took over your thrusting. 

“Can't even do this anymore, what a spoiled little whore,” he said as his hips began snapping into you, reaching that spot deep inside you as you drooled against the glass, wondering if anyone had just happened to step into that room and what they must think about you. 

“Cum for me, Y/N. Cum on my cock,” he said it, and entranced, your body did just that, your orgasm taking the last breath of strength you had as he too plunged himself deeper and stilled there, his cum coating your walls. 

Neither of you moved for an eternity, but the first sign of clarity returning was the careful return of the gun to the holster. 

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Spencer minimized the mess you made together, cleaning you up as he slipped out of you. Discarding it momentarily on the floor, he pulled your clothes back into position and led you back over to the chairs. Just as he moved to sit you down, though, you turned and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug. 

His arms hung suspended for a minute or two before he let them rest on your back, stroking your hair. 

“Sorry, it's been… it's been lonely, and I didn't realize how hard it had been until-” 

“It's okay. Take your time,” he said, sitting down in the chair and letting you curl up in his lap, burying your head in his neck

“We’ll catch this guy, and then you're out, okay Y/N? We'll come back and get you out soon.” 

Lifting your eyes to his, you nodded, pressing your lips to his with a smile as you again worked yourself back into character, regaining your earlier composure and lifting yourself from the man's too comfortable arms. 

“Well, Spencer, what do you say we get me back into panties and handcuffs and cut Caitlyn Grant loose?” 

[kykyonthemoon]

How to take care of your on-period girlfriend

During that time of the month, you receive special treatment from him.

ಇ. Character x Female Reader

with Rafayel, Xavier, Zayne and Caleb.

ಇ. Tags: fluff, domestic fluff, established relationship, pain & comfort

ಇ. Word count: 3k4

ಇ. Note: Some details in this fic are inspired by in game Tender Moments.

ಇ. Requested by Mỗi ngày nhặt một anh làm chồng and an anonymous reader on my ask box.

ಇ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic ♡

𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒍

In the middle of the night, you awoke with such discomfort in your lower belly and an aching feeling throughout your body. You knew it was that time of the month; in fact, it was a few days late due to recent work-related stress. You didn't expect to have your period today, so waking up at this hour with discomfort all over your body was quite uncomfortable to you.

Your hand found the phone on the nightstand beside the bed. Rafayel has left you several messages and missed calls. Perhaps you fell asleep without realizing it due to fatigue. You decided to get up and use the bathroom for a while. That's when you discovered you were missing what you needed most at home.

You grumbled and switched the phone screen back on. You were reluctant to disturb him at this time, especially because he was attending an exhibition in another city and you were not sure if he had returned yet. But you were upset and missed the times like this when he took care of you. Just before dialing his number, your phone rang.

"I've seen you online for a while. What's up? Can't sleep?"

Rafayel's voice rang out from the other end of the line, full of energy still. You just answered with a few short phrases, summarizing the current situation for him and told him that you were about to go out and get the necessary supplies.

"Just stay there." Rafayel stopped you. "Do not go anywhere. Wait for me."

You were a little confused why he had told you to stay home. But just now, you were too tired to have the strength to ask. Besides, you could not go out in this state, when you just wanted to faint on the floor.

You washed and changed into a new set of pajamas. Luckily, you found a spare sanitary pad left over in the closet that was sufficient for your needs. As soon as you got out of the bathroom, you heard the front door open. Rafayel appeared there, with a bunch of bags wrapped in both hands.

“How are you now? Does it still hurt?"

You shook your head, primarily to reassure him. But glancing at your pallid face, he knew you were lying. And you were taken aback when he arrived here, at this hour.

“Didn't you leave Linkon for the exhibition a few days ago?”

“That event was nothing special. I was on my way home when you called. I stopped to get you a few things before coming here.”

"Just a few things?" You gazed at the mound of items Rafayel had just purchased and set on the floor. "Why does it look like you bought everything in the store?"

Rafayel grinned at you. He softly aided you in getting down, leaning your back against the cushion and placing your feet on the couch. After that, he began taking out everything from those bags, which startled you a lot.

He had purchased you sanitary products in the form of pads, panties, tampons and even menstrual cups. One of each type and brand. There were also several pain relievers, vitamins and more. When he noticed your amazement, he said:

“Since I don't know which type you usually use, I bought one of each.”

Rafayel laughed. And you, even though your face was pale, felt so content due to his silliness.

“You could have just asked me.” You responded.

“I won't be able to see your surprised smile then. Since I've made you laugh, I must be a fantastic boyfriend, right?”

You slumped entirely back on the couch, still laughing but murmuring: "You must be a fantastic fool."

Lemurians' bodies are not like humans, you appreciated Rafayel's efforts to learn about your cycle and care for you in this manner. He plopped down on the couch next to you, lifted your legs and placed them on his lap. His slender hands rubbed them gently.

“Does it hurt a lot?”

You shook your head. “It doesn't hurt much. Just mild cramps.”

Rafayel nodded. He still remembered you often got cramps in your legs every time your period came. He continued massaging your legs before moving on to your tummy.

“What about this place?”

When your lower abdominal contractions resumed, you let out a tiny cry. Rafayel immediately withdrew his hand. “Sorry… Did I hurt you?”

“I-It's okay…” You tried to smile. “I'll probably feel better after a good rest.”

Rafayel's expression shifted slightly. His hand returned to your lower abdomen, continuing to gently rub it. “There you go again. Just say you're hurt when you're in pain. No need to try to act strong in front of me. Did you forget about our agreement last month? Whenever you have your period and are so weak like this, I will become your bodyguard.”

In the lying position, you could see half of Rafayel's face illuminated in the warm glow of the nightlight. His eyes were both concentrated and kind as he continued to ease the pain in your stomach. Suddenly, you couldn't help but jab your finger into his face. He pouted and puffed out both cheeks. Just like a puffer fish.

“Okay, it's all my fault. Now I will let Rafayel take care of me without worrying that I'd bother you.”

"Good. Even though I don't know how to take care of humans, I guarantee you'll be satisfied!”

Rafayel joyfully grasped your hand and kissed the palm to make it less cold. He continued rubbing your abdomen, singing a melody that put you at peace.

“Get some sleep. When you wake up tomorrow, I will still be here, right next to you.”

𝑿𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓 

As a child, you imagined your knight arriving in shining armor on a white horse.

It turned out that your knight did not have a horse, but rather a white Hunter's uniform and a coat that he had just removed to wrap around your waist.

It happened when Xavier and you had just finished dealing with the Wanderers on the outskirts of Linkon City. Late at night, an unusual incident occurred. You hurriedly arrived to take on the task, unaware as that time of the month had come.

Perhaps you were too preoccupied with work to remember when your period would start. After finishing the task, you were dismayed to realize that the blood on your dress was not the blood of the Wanderers at all.

Xavier discovered it through your frightened eyes and trembling body. Immediately, he took off his coat, wrapped it around your waist to cover the blood stains, and even carried you a long way home on his back.

Your arms were wrapped around Xavier's neck, your face completely hidden in his shoulder. You felt so embarrassed to let him catch you in such a messy state. However, Xavier continued to soothe and console you. He said:

"It's not a problem at all. You don't need to be embarrassed about this very normal thing."

Even though it still did not feel right, you said nothing more. You were exhausted enough, and your aching body was screaming for a rest.

Xavier took you back to your apartment. You thanked him profusely and quickly went to take a shower. After that, sensing the silence outside, you assumed that Xavier had returned to his home. Unexpectedly, you caught a pack of painkillers on the table. Next to it was his phone.

You did not intend to peek, but because the phone screen was still on, you accidentally saw the content that Xavier was reading: How to take care of your girlfriend during her periods.

You chuckled to yourself. It turned out Xavier was learning how to take care of you. Then, his hand appeared out of nowhere to take the phone back.

“Are you done? Take your pill now."

Xavier gave you a cup of warm water. You smiled: "I thought you went home."

He slowly dropped himself into the seat next to you. “You are so hurt. How can I go home?”

"I'm alright. I'm going to sleep soon, tomorrow I'll feel better.”

Xavier did not seem to take your word for it. He grasped your hands.

“Aren't you going to be in pain for two or three days to a week?”

“Did you just read that on the internet?”

Xavier pondered for a time before nodding: “I... am not very familiar with these things. But I'll stay here until you feel better. Is that okay?"

You gave him a nod and a smile. Xavier got you a painkiller. After taking it he let you lean on the sofa, held your hands tightly, rubbed and breathed on them to bring some warmth.

After a while, your lower abdomen started to hurt. Xavier expressed concern as he noticed your expression:

“It hurts a lot, doesn't it? May I give you a massage?”

He waited for your approval with a nod before placing his hand on your tummy. He gently stroked it clockwise and inquired: "Is this better?"

You shook your head. One hand pointed to the lower abdomen, somewhat below where Xavier's hand was lying. “Here.”

“I see.”

Xavier's fingers went lower, causing you to flush slightly. Xavier said again:

“I only have two hands. One is warming your right hand, the other is massaging your belly. What should I do with your left hand?"

You gazed down at your hand. It wasn't chilly enough to warrant staying warm, but Xavier insisted on it. He also came up with a new idea:

“How about you put your left hand on me.”

You were astonished for a second. "Put it… on you?"

"Yes. Here..." Xavier raised his shirt slightly, showing his abdomen, and glanced at you with anticipation. You sheepishly placed your hand there, and he pulled his shirt down again. “Is it warm?”

You nodded, not sure what else to say. The warmth from his body made you feel heated within. Xavier proceeded to rub your hand and belly. Your hand, which had been put on his body for a short period of time, now became restless. It crept gently upward, to where you could feel his heartbeat quickening.

Xavier stared at you, considered for a time, then said nothing. Since he had let it slide, your hand glided down, past a layer of firm muscles, and then a bit further…

“If you continue to be so naughty, I'll get angry.”

Xavier leaned close to your ear and murmured, his tone irritated, but his gestures seemed to lean heavily on you.

Your fingers twitched slightly as you attentively watched Xavier's slightly furrowed expression. He went on to say: "When I'm angry, it will be quite terrifying. So be a good girl for me.”

Your hand, which was resting in Xavier's, was drawn to his lips as he pressed gentle kisses against it with heated breath. His eyes darkened somewhat; perhaps it was simply the light. You whispered an apology and returned your hand to its previous position. Xavier gazed at you with a small smile.

"If you're sleepy, just lean on me."

"Yes." You responded gently, placing your head on his shoulder and yawning loudly. No matter what the situation was, with him by your side, you would always be safe.

𝒁𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆 

You were astonished when Zayne showed up at your door late at night after his shift. Seeing your pale and fragile appearance, he asked you to go to the bedroom for some rest. After faltering a few steps, you nearly collapsed to the floor.

Fortunately, Zayne's dominant arms caught you in time. With one quick movement, he lifted you up with ease.

“Put your arms around my neck.”

Zayne said, and you obediently followed. He carried you to your room, put you on the bed, and drew the blanket over you.

"Give me your hands." You placed your hands on his. Zayne stroked your hands briefly to warm them up before placing them beneath the blanket. "I will make you some tea. Remember to keep yourself warm."

You nodded sheepishly. Your eyes followed Zayne's wide back as it vanished beyond the bedroom door, and you wondered how he knew you were on your period.

You were not convinced this was a coincidence since Zayne prepared you a cup of jujube tea that he had brought with him. He used to give you that drink on days like this. He said it would make the pain less severe. And it was true.

"Drink this. Then eat the red dates, too."

Zayne handed you a cup of tea that he had just blown to cool down the heat. He sat down next to you on the bed. You ate a jujube, turned to look at him, and noticed his palm was already open in front of you.

“Spill it out here.” He said. You looked at him for a moment and then did what you were told. Zayne smiled with satisfaction, patted on your head, then took back the almost empty cup of tea from your hand to it on the night table.

“Feeling better?” Zayne inquired pleasantly as he assisted you in lying back on the bed. 

You smiled faintly and said:

“Just a liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittle bit better.”

He laughed at your childish behavior. “If it hurts too much, you'll have to go to the hospital.”

You frowned and shook your head vigorously.

“Don't want to? If so, you need to get a good night's sleep. When you wake up, you will definitely be better.”

You gently tugged on Zayne's arm, whispering: "So... Can I get special care from Dr. Zayne? That way I'll get better faster..."

He looked at you with smiling eyes then nodded. You shifted slightly to the opposite side of the bed, making room for him to lie next to you. He instructed. He said:

“Turn around. Then slightly bend your knees closer to your stomach.”

You did what he told you. Your back turned to him, and very soon, you felt the warmth from his body enveloping you.

Zayne embraced you from behind. One of his hands went under the pillow to lift your head up a bit, the other was placed on your stomach. His hand appeared to be large enough to cover your entire stomach. With a delicate touch, his hand began to travel in a circular rhythm on your lower belly.

At first, you felt ticklish and heated given the embarrassment caused by his touch. In addition, Zayne's steady breath was blowing on your hair from behind. He asked:

“Feeling better yet?”

"Yes." You replied softly. “Doctor Zayne's hand is so warm…”

You caught his quiet laughter. He pressed his body closer to you, while you just wanted to hide your face in the pillow. Then, you suddenly remembered what you had wanted to ask him just now:

“How did you know my period would start tonight? You even brought me tea.”

“Can you guess how?”

“Hmm… Let's see. You knew the exact date last month even though I didn't tell you about it... And the month before that too..."

Doctor Zayne allowed you to think about it for a minute. Zayne's knowledge of the days your menstrual cycle would start was most likely due to his perfect memory. Thinking about this, you turned around and his lips brushed your forehead.

"Eh…"

You froze for a second. Doctor Zayne gazed at you. He was so near that you forgot what you were about to say.

"You've got the answer yet?"

Your face became as crimson as the jujube tea. His breath danced over your cheeks as you responded:

“Um… I already knew the answer… Dr. Zayne is so busy, yet he still remembers my cycle?”

“I remember everything related to you.” Zayne spoke, his expression very serious and full of concern. You reluctantly turned aside.

"T-Thank you…"

You noticed Zayne's body pressing closer to yours. He buried his face in your hair and the nape of your neck, his hand continuing to rub your lower abdomen. He whispered:

“Get well soon. Although I hope that what makes you better is not painkillers or tea… but me…”

The corners of your mouth stretched out, smiling so widely that you could not close it. You grabbed his rough hand that was placed on your stomach and replied:

“Doctor Zayne has always been my elixir!”

𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒃

The door to your room opened in the middle of the night, and Caleb emerged, blocking the entire entrance. He was holding a hot compress bag, a glass of milk, and sanitary pads.

"I'm here to rescue you, Pipsqueak."

Caleb turned on the nightlight to see your pale face and unkempt hair. You were writhing on the bed, in anguish from your period. You could only send him a text message with the strawberry emoji and a sobbing expression. He arrived at your bedside about five minutes later.

He assisted you up, gave you some painkillers, and then pressed the hot compress bag on your stomach. You frowned.

"Do you need to be so harsh with someone who is sick?"

"It's on you for not listening to me. Even though you knew you were about to start your period, you still had the urge to drink lots of cold drinks. You only listen to me when you're in pain?"

You grimaced and rolled over on the bed. Due to your sudden movement, you got cramps in your shoulder blades. You cried loudly for help. Caleb just sighed in helplessness. He helped you lie upright again and rubbed your shoulders.

“If I'm not here, who would you whine to?”

Since you knew Caleb was home, you texted him. However, you did not say anything after that. The anguish had utterly drained you. Caleb couldn't stand to torment you any longer after knowing about your situation. He leaned you on his lap and helped you sip your pain reliever and warm milk. The hand on your back kept rubbing you.

"Is it so painful? "Can you try to get some sleep?"

You replied by shaking your head. Caleb patted you some more. "Then I will stay here with you. Okay?"

This time you nodded. Caleb drew you closer. He removed the hot compress bag from your tummy and began rubbing it with his hand. All of a sudden, your childhood came back, when you had your period for the first time and Grandma was not home; there was only Caleb. Even though you had learnt in advance that all girls would have to go through her period every month, you were nevertheless terrified when it arrived. Fortunately, Caleb was by your side. He raced to get sanitary pads for you, poured hot tea, and helped you warm your hands and feet.

At that time, you were really timid. And perhaps from there you saw the differences between you and Caleb. Both of you were no longer innocent children. This unusual feeling also steadily grew since. 

"Lucky you're here…" You whispered, a hand softly tapped on Caleb's.

"Of course. I'm always by your side, pipsqueak." He responded, then lavished you with several delicate kisses on your hair.

"Caleb… Don't disappear, okay?"

Surprised, he said, "Where can I disappear to?I still have to comfort you with your favorite meals tomorrow."

"Tomorrow…" You instantly recalled having a date with Caleb at the amusement park. But this unexpected menstrual cycle ruined that plan. "I'm sorry…"

"No problem." Caleb stroked you on the head. “You can compensate me another day. For now, you just need to rest well.”

“But I still feel like it's my fault… It's been a while since you could have a day off, yet we can't go out…”

Caleb smiled gently. He tucked your loose hair behind your ear. When he looked into your eyes, he said:

“If you're bored, we can watch the series you like together tomorrow. Or play some games.”

Upon hearing that, your mood brightened a little. You loved spending with Caleb, whether it was a date outside or just hanging out at home. They all brought joy to you.

Caleb placed a kiss on your forehead. He went on:

“Don't think too much about it. Go to sleep now so you'll have the strength to bother me again tomorrow."

You laughed. Caleb was always such a teaser, but that was the reason why you were so happy around him.

Coaxing you for a while, when you started to fall into a deep sleep, Caleb whispered softly in your ear:

“Being able to come home and be with my pipsqueak, that's the best kind of vacation for me.”

[kaisacobra]

I Dare You - Tara Carpenter

Summary: When Amber Freeman, Tara's best friend (and secret crush) dares her to win a random person over, she thinks it's gonna be an easy task. What she wasn't expecting, however, was that y/n y/l was far more interesting than she thought.

Warnings: Painter!Fem!Reader, very small mentions of sex and alcohol, non-canon/high school!AU, angst? ish?

W.C: 6.0k

a/n: She's back! This is probably not my best one but i was desperate to write something again and end my awful writers block. Anyways, i do think this will be a small series so stay tuned for that!

Tara’s head was pounding.

The school day had barely started and she couldn't stand being there any longer. Contrary to what many might think, her discomfort didn't come from the noise of lockers banging or the loud chatter and laughter of the students in the hallways. In fact, the reason had a first and last name: Amber Freeman, her best friend and secret crush, who seemed very intent on recounting every detail of her hookup with a girl last night.

“And then she asked me to...”

“That's enough! I definitely don't need to hear about what sex position you used, or anything like that.” Tara held up one hand, grimacing in disgust as Amber laughed beside her, opening her locker without the slightest shame at what she had said.

“Come on, Tara! Don't be so grumpy.” The dark-haired girl gave her a fake pout, purposely trying to annoy her friend. “I needed that! Do you know how long it's been since I've been with anyone? Too long!” 

And not only did Tara know how long it had been since Amber had kissed anyone, she also knew exactly why it had happened. Tara had a certain advantage at school for hanging out with Amber, who carried the title of most popular and desired girl for her unattainable energy, memorable parties and, of course, singular beauty.

Hanging out with Amber and basically being her right-hand woman meant that Tara was also popular by proxy. The students knew exactly who she was and, what's more, they knew that if they messed with Tara, they would have to deal with the wrath of the implacable Amber Freeman, which came in handy when Tara needed to “gently” convince multiple people in the school that Amber would never be interested in them behind her back. 

Apparently, someone had slipped through her fingers. 

Tara didn't bother to offer an answer to her friend, just rolling her eyes and closing her locker without much strength, so as not to make her growing migraine even worse. Unfortunately, Amber had never been the kind of person to wait for an opening to speak her mind. “You know, I bet that bad mood of yours would be cured if you loosened up a little bit. When was the last time you kissed anyone?” 

“Who kissed who?” 

Tara leaned her shoulder on the locker behind her to watch the arrival of Wes, closely followed by Liv and Chad, who walked hand in hand, followed by the stares of the crowd of teenagers who either wanted to be them or wanted them to be gone. The trio, along with Tara and Amber, were considered the “popular crew” at Woodsboro High School, even though the Carpenter girl hated the term because she considered it extremely cliché and tacky.

Liv and Chad were the typical American high school couple made up of a cheerleader and a soccer player. Tara had known Chad the longest, having him as a childhood friend, and she watched first-hand as he became more and more enamored of his influence through his status as a star quarterback, especially as he gained the attention of his current girlfriend and the entire school. Liv was the typical mean girl cheerleader who was extremely empty and desperate to stay relevant in the social hierarchy. Tara didn't understand what Chad saw in her, but she put up with the girl because Amber wanted her around for some reason. 

Wes, on the other hand, was an exception. He used to be a loner until Amber took him under her wing after she discovered his status as the sheriff's son, which the girl used as a pass to get out of trouble more easily. Wes knew that his position in the group was fragile and so he constantly tried to compensate by bringing up gossip that he found out about the whole school.

He was still waiting for an answer when Amber slipped an arm around Tara's shoulders, ruffling her hair. “Tara here is in a bad mood today. I was trying to tell her that the way to solve it is with a good makeout sesh.”

You could help me with that, Tara thought, but other words came out of her mouth, “Shut up. I'm just not in the mood for anything right now, that's all.”

Tara knew that hooking up with Amber, if it ever happened, would be both her blessing and her curse. Amber was the type of girl who would rather die than get into a serious relationship and, if Tara was going to be honest, she knew the girl would be a terrible girlfriend. Too bad her little crush couldn’t think rationally.

Liv smirked in her usual evil little laugh. “Yeah. I bet you're only saying that because you've been left on the shelf.”

Amber and Wes hissed and whistled teasingly, trying to get an even bigger reaction out of Tara. Chad raised his eyebrows in shock, glancing briefly at the shorter girl before focusing down on his phone. Tara felt a wave of pride and piled up anger rise up inside her. She crossed her arms defensively, scoffing as she glared at Liv. “Oh, please. You know very well that I could get with whoever I wanted at this school.”

Okay, maybe the words were a bit exaggerated and presumptuous, but it's not like she was wrong. Popularity aside, Tara knew damn well that she was a pretty girl and she wasn't afraid or ashamed to use her charms to get what she wanted sometimes.

“Whoever you wanted, huh?” Amber smiled mischievously as she heard the phrase and the evil glint in her dark eyes, which usually appeared when she was coming up with her crazy plans, began to show. “Interesting. We should prove that somehow, Carpenter.”

“Whatever.” Tara rolled her eyes, internally wishing that the matter would be closed soon. The more Amber stared at her like that, the redder Tara’s cheeks became and that was going to be impossible to hide in a few minutes.

“Ah, ah! Don't chicken out now, Carpenter.” The raven haired girl raised her index finger, shaking it in a negative. “I've got a great idea! Why don't I just pick a random person and you have to hookup with them, hm? Come on, Tara. I dare you.”

The three other teens let out more roars of approval, patting Amber on the shoulder for her brilliant idea and trying to convince Tara to go through with the challenge, offering half encouraging words and half biased questions along with “Are you scared?” and “Can you handle it?”.

The Carpenter girl felt at a crossroads. On the one hand, she definitely didn't want to do it. Her small (and growing) crush on Amber was already too much sentimental work for her, not to mention the fact that she wasn't at all keen on the idea of kissing some random stranger, especially knowing that Amber would choose the most embarrassing option possible.

On the other hand, a part of her was always tempted to indulge Amber Freeman's desires, eagerly searching for a hint of approval or recognition in those umber eyes that usually carried nothing but sarcasm and boredom.

So Tara didn't even have to consider long before she groaned in displeasure, closing her eyes and leaning her head back until it rested on the locket’s door. “Fine, whatever. But if you pick some weirdo who eats his own snot, I swear...”

Tara's thoughts were interrupted by the loud noise of something hitting the floor, followed by some snickering and murmuring from everyone in the hallways. She lifted her head to see through the crowd, searching for the reason for the commotion while already hearing her friends laughing beside her.

When the crowd finally cleared enough for Tara to be able to see, she was faced with the scene of a girl slowly picking herself up off the ground, peeling off a canvas that still looked wet from her T-shirt, now completely stained with paint. Another football player seemed to be trying to apologize for something, to which the girl only responded with a nod of her still lowered head.

"Holy shit." Amber laughed, holding her stomach as if she were at a comedy show. "What a dumbass. Hey, isn't that one of Mindy's little friends?"

Chad looked up, looking away from his phone when he heard his twin sister's name being mentioned. He let out a sound of confusion at first, but following the gaze of the others, the boy finally nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Y/n Y/l."

Tara watches with furrowed brows as the girl walks further into the corridor, clearly unhappy with her ruined painting and clothes. When she focuses back on her friends, Amber's mischievous gaze is already on her. "I think we've met your challenge, Tara."

The shorter girl's eyes widened comically and she noticed out of the corner of her eye that Chad had a similar reaction

Mindy used to be part of the group made up of the childhood friends: Tara, Chad, Mindy and Amber, at least until the beginning of high school, when everything related to her became a forbidden topic and the group underwent a change of members. What happened was that the girl had called Amber a bitch for cheating on Mindy with her girlfriend at the time, causing a rift that was never repaired. Chad had to beg Amber not to do anything drastic against his sister, which she begrudgingly accepted, but also didn't allow any of the others to have contact with her.

"Amber, are you sure?" Tara subtly tried to change Freeman's mind, already anticipating the huge mess that could arise between the former friends. "I mean, she's Mindy's friend and she's kind of quiet. Maybe she hasn't even kissed anyone yet."

A bit harsh, but that's the impression Tara got from the little she knew about you. She had never heard you speak in any of the classes you had together, she always saw you either with Mindy's group or on your own and the most she knew was that you were good enough at painting to paint a mural behind the bleachers at the school's request.

Unfortunately, Amber couldn't care less about any of these set of reasons. In fact, they even seemed to encourage the dark-eyed girl, who just shrugged. "Even better. You'd be doing her a favor and we wouldn't be attacking Mindy directly. Sounds like a win-win to me."

Tara looked at the others, analyzing their reactions to the plan. Wes and Liv had already agreed to it a long time ago and were now trying to pressure the shorter girl into accepting. Chad met Tara's gaze and shrugged, although his wrinkled forehead gave away his distaste for the whole idea.

The Carpenter girl sighed, suddenly feeling crowded despite only having four people around her and an entire hallway available for her to run down if she wanted to.

The problem was that she didn't. Not when Amber's beautiful manic eyes were staring at her with such expectation, making Tara's stomach do somersaults. So Tara just nodded her head in a yes, receiving happy shouting and pats on the shoulder as a reward.

"Y/n Y/l is the target, then."

_

To say that your day sucked would be an understatement.

First of all, you'd spent the whole week racking your brains, trying to somehow find inspiration to do a painting for art class, but your creativity had gone out the window. The best you could do to produce your teacher's homework request: “Represent a personal happy moment”, was an adaptation of a Polaroid you had taken with your friends a few months ago.

Being a perfectionist who already thought your artwork wasn't good enough, you decided to add a few touches on it a few minutes before arriving at school, trying to convince your inner art critic that the painting wasn't so bad.

Unfortunately, the second problem came at the exact same minute you set foot in the school, or rather, the minute one of the football idiots stepped in your way, causing you to trip and fall right on top of the canvas that wasn't yet dry.

You barely heard the boy's apology, just nodding and struggling to get out of the hall as quickly as possible, wishing the ground would swallow you up soon so you couldn't hear the loud snickering of the other people in the hallways.

Luckily for you (because something in your day had to go right), you had a spare T-shirt in your locker, near the art room. It wasn't the prettiest thing in the world, having a big Jason vs Michael Myers fan art printed on it, but at least it was better than spending the rest of the day in a shirt that looked like it had been vomited on by a unicorn.

You sighed, placing the canvas, now destroyed, on one of the empty easels in the art room. The once uniform colors now blended into a mess of paint that, until earlier today, had represented your face next to those of your friends, enjoying a summer's day in Woodsboro. The green of Anika's blouse had mixed with the chocolate of Mindy's skin, the white of the sun had stained the brown of Ethan's hair and the faces of the four of you had become a single blur, exactly where you had crashed into earlier.

“I thought you didn't do abstracts.” A familiar voice echoed into the room and you turned just in time to see your favorite teacher, Ms. Crane, entering the room with her typical warm smile. As always, the art teacher was wearing a light dress and her blonde hair was perfectly tied up in a bun, which by this point was her trademark.

“I don't.” You replied simply, pointing disappointingly at the disaster on canvas you had made. “I couldn't think of anything during all week so I tried to finish it this morning, but then the paint wouldn't dry and I ended up falling on it.”

The teacher grimaced, her big blue eyes looking at you with some concern as she left her bag on her desk. “Creativity block? You've never had a problem with that before. Should I be worried that it's happened just when the theme was having a happy moment?”

You quickly nodded, trying to relieve the woman’s nerves. You weren't a sad person at all, although many people thought so because of your withdrawn behavior. You had a good life, you were a good student with a clear talent for the arts, and you had a sincere friendship in Mindy, Anika and Ethan, who had already met all the social needs you might have had.

The real issue with this project was that none of your attempts seemed right, always seeming to be missing some element or another between the memories in your brain and the movements of the brush in your hand. And yes, Ms. Crane was right about this never happening before, which was what made you the most frustrated.

The woman seemed to understand your internal dilemma and her gaze softened. “Why don't I give you another week to finish, hm? You're one of our best artists, y/n. I know you can make masterpieces when you have your head on the right place.”

And that was the reason why the woman was your favorite teacher, far beyond just being the one responsible for the art subject. Laura Crane was extremely human and compassionate towards all of her students, even those who weren't good artists or those who went to class just to admire the young teacher's beauty.

“Thank you, Ms. Crane.” You nod, feeling some of the weight on your chest being lifted. The woman waved her hand dismissively, acting as if she hadn't done anything much, even though you knew she had just done way more than any of the other old vultures who worked at the school.

You spent the rest of the day with that in your head. Your mind twisted and turned trying to find a glimmer of inspiration for your work, desperately trying to think of something that could represent your best moment of personal happiness on a 60 x 100cm canvas. The extra deadline Ms. Crane had given you made your perfectionist side feel even more intense, wanting to make a piece impressive enough to justify your lost time.

Your thoughts clouded your mind so intensely that you mechanically made your way to the history room, sitting down in your usual chair without really paying attention to your surroundings. The room, little by little, was filled up with students and, along with them, came the loud noise of chatter and chairs being dragged around. But even so, your eyes remained focused on a blank sheet of paper in front of you, while the pencil in your hand almost had to cry out for help because of the strength with which you were holding it.

You couldn’t even draw a sketch. Goddammit, what was wrong with you?!

“Can I borrow a pen?”

You snapped out of your stupor when you heard a soft voice close to your ear. Raising your head a little too quickly, you found yourself facing beautiful brown eyes and dimples on either side of a smile. Honestly, that sight scared you even more because why was Tara Carpenter, resident popular girl, talking to you at that moment?

It's not like you cared about the whole “social pyramid” and “popularity ranking” thing that mattered so much to some people at your school, but you knew that Tara and her friends didn't have the best track record with your best friend, Mindy. You didn't know the full story, but the fact that Mindy always cursed them every time the group passed by you gave you an idea that maybe they weren't such good people.

Tara noticed the confusion on your face, thinking it was due to the sudden question and not due to her presence in general, and decided to humorously complement the question. “I left all of mine at home, can you believe it?”

Not really, you were tempted to answer, but you kept your thoughts to yourself. You spent a few more seconds analyzing the girl, trying to understand why she had asked you for the pen and not the other people in the room she usually sat nearby. Tara was still patiently standing next to you, leaning slightly towards your direction, and she didn't seem to be in any rush, nor did she seem to have any bad intentions.

Overall, the only mean ones in her group of popular people were Amber and Liv, but they usually liked to be offensive directly to the faces of the students they chose as victims. The fact that Tara hung out with them was no green flag, of course, but from what little you knew of her, the girl didn't seem to be the teaser or prankster type.

With that in mind, you pulled one of the pens you used the least out of your bag and raised it towards the girl, offering it without muttering a word, wishing that the awkward (at least for you) conversation would end soon.

Unfortunately, Tara didn't seem to share the same opinion, because she pulled out the chair right next to you to sit down, dropping her black bag carelessly on the side of the table and pointing at your clothes. “Nice shirt. Team Jason or team Michael?”

The question mark in your head seemed to get even bigger with the casualness with which Tara was talking to you. You knew that the girl didn't talk to many people apart from her friends and you knew even better that they generally tried to ignore your existence along with Ethan, Anika and Mindy.

Still, horror movies were your passion and you couldn't pass up the chance to talk about one of your favorite topics with a new person.

“Well, it depends on which parameter we're using. Overall, I like the Halloween franchise better and I prefer Michael Myers’ aesthetic, but I think Jason has a better lore and he would definitely win in a fight.” You tried to keep your yapping contained, not knowing exactly how interested Tara really was in your opinion, but you were surprised to see a twinkle in the girl's eye and a mischievous smile bloom on her face.

“Michael is much faster and smarter than Jason, there's no chance of him losing in a fight.”

“Zombie Jason was literally immortal, Michael and his kitchen knife wouldn't stand a chance against him.”

The two of you continued to talk and go back and forth with each other's comments as if it was something you did every day. Being so intrigued and immersed in the topic of the conversation almost made you forget that you were talking to Tara Carpenter, with whom you had never exchanged more than three words in your life before, but both of you only stopped talking when the teacher called your attention, asking for you to be quiet so that he could start the lesson.

Tara didn't seem as shocked by the interaction as you were and, in fact, she continued to sit next to you even though her usual chair on the other side of the room was empty. She gave you a complicit wink before turning to face forward, a satisfied smile still playing on her face, as if she had been the winner from that debate.

And you? You did your best to pay attention in the rest of the class and not keep reliving the interaction in your head, trying to convince yourself that that conversation had been a glitch in the matrix and would probably never happen again, but it was hard now that you knew how nice Tara could be and after you had noticed the way her freckles seemed to dance across her face when she smiled.

_

“Earth to y/n?”

The voice of your best friend, Mindy, snapped you back to reality, making your cheeks feel warm. It was lunchtime and you, Mindy, Anika and Ethan were sitting at your usual table, which was a wooden picnic table, conveniently placed under the shade of a huge tree. A few meters away, closer to the cafeteria doors, was the circular table that was always occupied by the popular kids, surrounded by people who intruded on the group's chatter to pretend they were close to them at some level.

Usually you would never look in that direction and would instead be in a conversation with your friends about anything, but you couldn't stop thinking about the randomness of the moment you had with Tara earlier.

Your eyes turned to Mindy on the other side of the table, who frowned as she realized that you were intently watching the table of the people she hated most at school. Anika, next to her, followed your gaze and the edges of her lips fell in concern. “What? Did they do something?”

“Did they do something to you?!” Ethan asked alarmed, his body leaning towards you enough to make you uncomfortable at the invasion of your personal space. It was no secret to anyone that the boy was in love with you, especially because he had confessed it multiple times. However, no matter how many times you said you only saw him as a friend, Ethan didn't seem to move on.

“No. It's not a big deal.” You shook your head, easing your friends' concern. Still, thoughts of your conversation with Tara seemed to beg to be externalized. “Tara spoke to me in class today, out of nowhere. She saw my shirt and started asking me about which of the two was my favorite.”

“Out of the blue?” Mindy asked, still frowning, and you nodded. “Well, I know Tara has always loved horror movies. We all did.”

The meaning was left implicit, but you knew she was referring to her old group of friends before things blew up between her and Amber. Anika ran her hand over her girlfriend's arms, trying to make her feel a little better about the topic through physical contact.

The table sat quietly for a few torturous seconds until you spoke up again, breaking the silence while watching Mindy's reaction cautiously. “It was nice. I mean, she was nice to me and the conversation was interesting.”

“Careful, y/n. Talking like that, it almost sounds like someone's got a little crush.” Anika teased you, wiggling her eyebrows in a way that made you feel even more embarrassed. You looked away to the crowded table on your far right, watching the way Tara seemed to be engrossed in whatever conversation she was having.

It was confusing. You didn't think you had a crush on Tara just because you had a nice moment with her, as much as you admitted that the girl was very pretty, but it was undeniable that something about this situation had intrigued you a lot.

Next to you, Ethan scoffed aggressively, looking irritated by Anika's little joke. “Come on! Y/n would never be interested in a person like her! What does she have to offer? Stupid parties and a basic knowledge of horror movies?”

“I don't think Tara's that bad...” Anika mentioned, looking up at Mindy for some confirmation. Of all of you, Anika was the most positive and social. Sure, she didn't like Amber for obvious reasons and neither did she like Liv because “her vibes were horrible”, but she constantly tried to mediate for the twins when she visited the Meeks-Martin house and you knew she'd spoken to Tara and Wes at least once before.

Mindy, on the other hand, definitely preferred to nurture her rivalry with all of them, but she sighed, knowing that she could never be completely against her own girlfriend. “I'd rather make no comment. Just keep in mind that if Tara is Amber's right-hand woman, it's for a reason.”

As Ethan protested against the small positive words Mindy and Anika had spoken about the popular group, your attention turned back to the table, your mind still processing what had happened earlier. Had it been a one-off thing? Did Tara like the topic so much that she just had to talk to you? Would she have talked to anyone wearing the shirt or would you have been special for some reason?

Your eyes were fixed on the opposite table, but your thoughts were racing, creating a thousand and one possibilities with a creativity you wished you'd had to complete your painting. You were so lost in your own mind that you hardly noticed the rest of the world around you.

Or, at least, that was until Tara caught you staring at her.

_

“The poor girl is so into you.”

Tara looked away from you to focus on Amber, who was sitting right in front of her with her legs propped up on the table. She had her back turned to where you were at, but somehow her fox-like senses knew exactly that you were looking in that direction.

As time passed, fewer admirers surrounded the table, picking up on the implicit hint that Amber would only give them crumbs of attention for a few seconds until she started to get annoyed by the presence of the crowd of opportunistic losers. The place was now only occupied by their inner circle, but Tara still felt like there were too many people.

“I bet she almost cried when you paid attention to her.” Liv laughed evilly, sitting on Chad's lap in a position that definitely didn't look comfortable for the boy.

Tara shrugged, feeling the gaze of the whole table on her, waiting for updates on her challenge. “It was no big deal, we just talked about movies.”

The truth was that Tara had enjoyed the conversation far more than she could have anticipated. Her initial plan had been to borrow a pen and “forget” to give it back so that she would have a reason to look at your Instagram and send a message after class (which she had actually half done, as your pen was still in her bag), but your t-shirt offered an opening that fit Tara's plans like a glove.

She had missed being able to discuss horror movies outside of the internet. Amber couldn't have a full debate because her patience ran out as soon as people disagreed with her and that made her aggressive. The others in the group didn't care that much about the genre and the most Tara could talk to them about was the basics of “which of these movies is scarier.”

The last time she had actually talked about the topic in a pleasant way had been with Mindy and that had been a long time ago. Tara hadn't even realized how much she had missed it.

“Well, I don't think it'll be long before she falls for you, anyway.” Amber shrugged, looking as bored as she usually was. “Maybe I made it a little too easy for you.”

“I've asked around and I'm pretty sure that y/n has never been with anyone. That makes things more interesting, doesn't it?” Wes said, once again trying to make himself valuable to the group with his information. The platinum-haired boy looked at Amber expectantly, like a puppy eagerly waiting for a treat.

Tara couldn't help but wonder if also looked at Amber like that, even though she didn't realize it.

“Eh. It depends on how she reacts afterwards.” The dark-eyed girl threw her head back, making her chair stand on just two feet. “Can you imagine if she just chooses to ignore Tara? Bo-ring.”

The conversation kept going on that topic but Tara was suddenly distracted by the sound of her phone’s notification ring vibrating in the back pocket of her jeans. She took the device in hand, seeing on the lock screen a new message from Sam, her sister.

Sam: Hey, I'm stuck at work until later. Can’t give you a ride, sorry.

Tara huffed with annoyance, not even bothering to reply and just placing her phone back. “Amber? Can you give me a ride home after class?”

The raven-haired girl hissed and grimaced, almost managing to sound apologetic even though Tara knew she didn't actually give a damn. “Sorry, T. I'm going to buy some stuff for the party on Saturday, so I can't.”

Maybe it was for the best. Tara always felt more attracted to Amber when they drove alone in her car, either because the conversations seemed more sincere or because the Freeman girl could be extremely attractive when she drove with only one hand on the wheel. If Tara was trying to get rid of this little crush on Amber, spending hours in a car alone with her might not be the best idea.

“It’s alright. I need to walk more anyway.” Tara shrugged, pretending not to be annoyed by the situation. Taking the school bus wasn't an option, because it would take twice the time as walking, and hitching a ride with any of her other friends would be either awkward or stressful.

So, after class was over, the younger Carpenter made her way home with her bag on her back and her headphones in her ears. It had been a while since she'd had to walk home, at least since Sam had come back from rehab, but at least it gave her time to catch up on her thoughts.

It took less than 20 minutes for her to get home, throwing her bag on the sofa carelessly and turning on the TV to fill the uncomfortable silence in her house. A rerun of an SNL episode was on and Tara hoped that the sound of the audience's laughter would make her feel a little better about the shitty day she'd had.

But then again, Tara couldn't remember having a completely good day ever since Sam had come back from rehab and had forced their mother into one as well, trying to help the woman with her drinking problem.

The girl went to the kitchen and got herself a glass of water, while in the living room, the audience laughed at some of Bowen Yang's skits. She had hoped that the cold water would relieve her negative feelings but it didn't do any good, because all Tara could feel was irritation.

Yes, she was annoyed that Sam couldn't pick her up. Yes, she was angry that her life had turned upside down ever since her sister had returned. Yes, she was pissed that she wanted to vent to someone, but she knew that her best friend wouldn't give a damn about being a good listener. Yes, she was enraged about having feelings for someone she knew would only break her heart

And GOD, how angry she was with herself for going along with this idiotic plan just to get one iota of Amber's approval. Tara felt ridiculous, even more so now that she knew that you were a nice and kind person, even if you were a bit closed off.

But the girl was wracked by conflicting feelings and she just wanted them to stop. She urgently needed a distraction, be it drinks, or a movie, or...

Or Amber was right and maybe Tara really did need to have a fling with someone to relieve her tension.

She wasn't thinking straight when she reached for her phone in her back pocket again, opening it straight to the Instagram app and finding her feed full of photos of people she followed, but she didn’t waste time on them as she was a woman on a mission. Tara leaned on the kitchen worktop, both elbows propped up as she searched for your name in the search bar.

The girl huffed when she found nothing on her first search and then decided to appeal to Mindy's profile, digging through the accounts she followed to try and find any that might refer to you.

Two minutes later, Tara came across an account called “pinceaudey/n”, which had a painting portrait as the profile picture. That's got to be it, she thought, wasting no time in opening the profile which, fortunately for her, was public. More laughter was heard from the TV, but this time Tara finally felt her mood change to something more positive.

The profile didn't seem to have any photos of you, but it was full of photos of paintings and other things related to art. Tara didn't linger on any of them. The less she connected with you, the easier it would be to have a hookup and leave, which was exactly what she needed. No more complications.

Still holding her phone, Tara crossed the kitchen to walk right back to the living room, looking in her bag for the item she had “accidentally” forgotten to return. She took the opportunity to look through the curtained windows, seeing that night was beginning to fall, darkening the streets and making Tara's heart race. She hated being alone at home and hoped that Sam's shift at the antique store wouldn't take much longer.

Finally she found the pen, just as Megan Thee Stallion began her performance as the show's musical guest. Tara held the object between her fingers and took a quick photo, sending it to your DM with a text. “Hey so i accidentally stole your pen lmao.” and then, ”I promise to give it back tomorrow.”

A few seconds had passed and you still hadn't seen it. It was alright, maybe you just had some better things to do other than stare at your phone, but for some reason, Tara couldn't stop herself from biting her nails in anxiety.

Maybe it was because it was late at night and she felt lonely, or maybe it was because she was in a particularly chatty mood that day, but without a second thought, her fingers typed out another message to keep the conversation flowing.

btw who do you think would win between Freddy and Leatherface?

As she waited for a reply with a small smile on her face and music playing from her TV, Tara finally felt less alone at home.

Maybe Amber was right. Maybe she needed a distraction.

[kyracooneyx23]

Better Keep Your Mouth Shut

Kyra x Sunny -> part one

summary: You've managed to keep your relationship a secret but can a drunk Kyra keep her mouth shut?

Kyra had only joined Arsenal a week ago but already people thought it was strange how close the two of you were with each other.

They all thought it was weird how you already seemed to have hundreds of little inside jokes that you would always be giggling about at training, and how you'd been out for coffee almost every day.

When people questioned it you'd both play it off saying that you'd clicked and wanted to get to know each other better. But in reality you were making up for lost time when you didn't have to chance to do this.

The girls would complain that they couldn't be friends with Kyra because you hogged her and you'd grin and claim it because you were the best person in the world and you couldn't blame her for wanting to be your friend.

Steph, who seemed to be the most suspicious, had even gone as far as trapping you in the changing rooms. Her eyes had been sharp, filled with a mixture of suspicion and concern as if she could tell what was going on. 'Why is Kyra always clinging to you?' Steph had demanded and it was the first time you'd struggled to smoothly answer.

'I've just been looking after her... making sure she settled in ok,' You stammered, trying to keep your tone casual, Steph was like Kyra's mum and you didn't want her to get mad. 'It can be really scary making this big of a move, you should know that.'

Steph's eyes stayed trained on your for a minute longer before she shrugged, either believing you or giving up trying. 'Caitlin must be right, Kyra's obviously going to make friends with the biggest pest on the team.'

Even though you were happy to finally be able to spend time with your girlfriend, not over facetime with an annoying time difference, you didn't want to stop her from being able to make friendships with the other girls on the team.

Overall the two of you had done a pretty good job at keeping it undercover, only once had the secret almost slipped.

Kyra didn't mean to she just hadn't been thinking about it when her and Alessia were leaving the cafe they had just had lunch in together.

'I need to pick up some chocolate for dinner tonight. It’s Sunny’s favorite.' The blonde had said as they walked along the street.

Kyra’s eyes lit up, smiling softly as she remembered all the times you'd begged her to get chocolate. 'Oh, that's a great idea she's obsessed with the marvelous creations you should grab that. Also get some Sour Patch Kids too. She always craves sour stuff after chocolate.'

Alessia raised an eyebrow, glancing sideways at Kyra confused as to why the Aussie knew so much about a girl who she'd only met a week ago. 'That's pretty specific... has she always been like that?'

Kyra nodded enthusiastically, her mood lifting as she gets to talk about you. 'Yeah, always telling me how she needs that sour kick to balance out the sweetness. She'll give me the silent treatment if I don't let her eat them. Funny how she’s got such specific cravings, right?'

Alessia’s suspicion grew with every word. 'So you’ve been hanging out with Sunny a lot then?'

Only then did Kyra realise the mistake she'd made, the way she was talking about you made it seem like you'd known each other for ages which you had, but nobody else was meant to know that. She mentally cursed at herself for not realising sooner. 'Yeah, a bit. But she's always going on about how she loves that combination. I guess it just stuck with me.”

As they entered the store, Alessia couldn’t help but wonder how Kyra knew so much about Sunny’s preferences in such a short time. The details seemed too precise for a friendship that was only a week old, leaving Alessia increasingly intrigued and wary.

Currently you were all at a team gathering and Viv and Beth's house, the whole team catching up before the start of the season. You'd told yourself you wouldn't drink tonight, knowing when you do you normally ended up doing something stupid. However you broke that promise the minute Katie had teased you and called you a chicken.

So that's how you ended up leaning heavily on the kitchen island an empty shot glass in your hand, matching ones scattered on the table. A smug grin plastered to your face as you watched Katie struggle to down her drink.

'Who's the chicken now.' You laugh making chicken noises and only stopping when she whacks you in the arm making you wince.

'Piss off McCabe,' you huff rubbing your arm even though it didn't even hurt that bad. You just liked to make a scene out of things. 'You're such a sore loser, I can't believe you thought you could beat me in a drinking game I never loose.' You smirk at her even as she flips you off before you decide you don't want to deal with a drunk and angry Katie, instead going to find Vic.

'Hellooooo.' You smile stretching out the word as you wrap an arm around your best friend, sitting down next to her on the couch as she talks to Leah and Lia.

When sees you she rolls her eyes lightly, 'I thought you said you weren't gonna drink tonight.' You grin sheepishly.

'What do you mean, I haven't.' You lie causing her to roll her eyes again but you know she's not seriously annoyed as a small, amused smile plays at her lips.

'Well when your throwing up tonight, don't expect me to hold your hair back for you.' She teases moving her body so her legs are resting on you and you groan trying to push them off but failing.

'that's not true, you always hold my hair.' You tell her knowing that she may act annoyed but she's always there for you at the end of the night just like you are for her. She shakes her head and you move your face closer to hers 'admit it, you love me.' She laughs, gently pushing your head away from hers before the two of you join in with Leah and Lia's conversation.

You don't realise that as this happens Kyra is watching you from the corner of the room, where she is talking to Katie and Caitlin. Her attention far from the conversation as she gets sick of Katie complaining that you must've cheated.

Instead she's watching you with Vic, your arms wrapped around the Dutch's body and her legs casually resting on your lap. When you lean your face closer to hers she can't help but feel a pang of jealousy in her heart seeing you like that with someone else.

She knows her thoughts are irrational, you and Vic are just bestfriends, she's like this with Charli as well so she shouldn't be jealous but she is. She blames the alcohol for making her feel this way.

When your head rests on Vic's shoulder she leaves the room wanting to find someone else to talk to bored of Katie's complaining. She didn't expect to find Stina, Frida, Steph and Beth all laughing loudly as Kim stood in the middle of the room singing loudly to a song Kyra couldn't recognize.

When the other four notice her presence they all grin at her. 'You're next Kyra.' Steph laughs loudly handing Kyra a hairbrush and pushing her to where Kim used to be standing. She then plays a song and it takes a minute for her to realise what it is but when she does she let's out a little laugh before singing loudly.

Normally she wouldn't be this comfortable performing in front of people she hardly knew, but the alcohol surging through her veins seemed to have given her a surge of confidence.

Meanwhile, you're still stuck on the couch with Vic. Her legs on top of you stopping you from leaving. Your interrupted from the conversation by Alessia's loud voice in your ear.

'Sunny, you've got to see this!' She screams, pulling you up causing Vic's legs to fall to the ground a small whine escaping her lips.

'Hey! I was comfy.' She complains but her cries are unheard as Alessia is already dragging you through the crowded room. She was pulling you up the hallway and only when you got closer could you hear Taylor Swift's voice breaking the quietness.

It was only as you reached the door that you could hear another voice screaming loudly along with the song. the off-key wails you immediately recognized as Kyra's, and you immediately understood why Alessia wanted you to see the scene in front of you.

Kyra was completely wasted with a hairbrush in one hand and a glass of some alcoholic liquid in the other. The hairbrush was being used as a microphone with Kyra screaming the lyrics of You Belong with Me. Steph and Beth were dancing along together and Frida was laughing from the couch her phone trained on Kyra as she filmed the madness.

'Why can't you see-e-ee you belong with me!'

'Sunny please stop her, she's been playing this song on repeat like four times.' You laugh at the pained look on Stina's face as she speaks.

'Kyra! what the fuck are you doing.' You shout getting the Aussie's attention. When she sees you her whole face lights up and she runs over to hug you.

'Why were you being so cuddly with Vic.' She pouts, dropping the hairbrush onto the ground. You were always like that with Vic, and Kyra knew you only meant it in a friendly manner so you frowned.

'When.'

'Just then, on the couch.' She whined squeezing you a little bit.

You had no idea why she was so upset, you were just sitting together.

'Kyra Lilee Cooney-Cross, you've got to be fucking with me! You can't seriously be jealous of Vic!' You push her away lightly remembering where you were and that nobody knew about you and Kyra. She pouted as you looked around the room checking to see if anyone was watching you, which thankfully they weren't all caught up in their own stuff.

'it's not funny.' she puffed, crossing her arms like a 4 year old. By now Steph and Beth had changed the song and were both now in their own little world dancing away as everyone else watched their performance.

'Alright, I'm sorry.' You roll you eyes at her pettiness forgetting how dramatic Kyra could get when she'd have something to drink. 'I'll order a uber and we can get going when it arrives.' You offer and she huffs one more time before strolling off.

You laugh lightly at the girl watching her walk away from you walking into the door and swearing at it before going out of sight. You pull out your phone and open up the Uber app but are interrupted before you can order one.

Leah grabs your arm pulling you into the middle of the circle with her. 'C'mon little gooner,' she grins at you, using the nickname she had for you one that she started calling you when you first joined the senior team resulting in you calling her big gooner. 'It's our turn for karaoke.'

Someone chucks you the hairbrush which you catch with ease as the music starts blasting through the speaker and you instantly recognize the tune of 'The Angel' and you laugh. 'Manu, was this your idea?' You look towards the Austrian and roll your eyes playfully before you start singing the lyrics along with Leah. People laughing as you try to hit the notes but fail drastically.

When it gets to the chorus the whole room starts singing along.

'North London forever, whatever the weather.' Leah wraps an arm around your shoulder.

'These streets are our own.' You smile despite how awfully out of tune everyone is 'and my heart will leave you never, my blood will forever run through the stone.'

Eventually the song ends and every breaks into a round of applause you and Leah laughing as you take a bow.

'Who's next?' Beth shouts and when no one puts their hands up Beth stands up and grabs the hairbrush from your hand picking a song of her own.

You squeeze next to Caitlin on the small armchair she's sitting on, flicking her in the shoulder knowing she's was extra irritable when she'd had a drink.

'Fuck off, I'm not in the mood for it tonight.' She groans pushing you away, but its no use and the arm rests block you from going anywhere so you're still stuck pressed up against her side, 'Katie's been talking my ear off all night, and I was trying to get a break from it now but of course you had to ruin it.' She sighs and you grin at her reaction.

'Speaking of katie, where is she?' realising you hadn't seen katie since you beat her in that drinking game.

'Her and Kyra are in the kitchen, their both pissed.'

You frown to yourself, remembering you told Kyra you'd call and Uber but you'd not been able to when Leah had distracted you. You get off the chair and walk into the kitchen.

'I still can't believe you have a girlfriend, that you've never told us about before.' Alessia says, looking shocked at the news.

'She's so pretttyyyy.' Kyra was drunkenly rambling on to a slightly less drunk Alessia. 'L-like she's perfect. And it's not fair that she doesn't think I'm perfect.' The aussie whined sadly.

An equally intoxicated Katie frowned dramatically, 'well then she fucking stupid.' she decided through a hiccup.

Kyra gasped as it was the most offensive thing she'd even heard. 'Don't say that.' she pouted with a heated glare towards Katie.

'it's true.' Katie sniffed, waving her hand in the air mindlessly and accidentally slapping Kyra on the face.

Kyra let out a shriek as though Katie had full on punched her and lifted her hand, slapping the Irish back with no strength, it was more of a pat on the cheek.

Katie gasped loudly leaning over to hit Kyra back and seeming to forget she was sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter resulting in her falling off and landing on the floor.

And that's how you found them, a red faced and frowning Katie lying on the floor as though she had been shot, a giggling Kyra rocking from side to side where she was perched on the counter and a tired Alessia who still had a vague look of shock on her face as she was still thinking about the news Kyra had just broke.

'Normally I'm the one who has to be looked after on nights out.' You mumble, amused at the sight before you.

Katie pushed herself off of the floor so fast you were worried she'd injure herself but she didn't even notice, instead her face lit up making you confused before she yells out; 'Foordy!'

Caitlin groans from behind you and you realised she must've followed you, the aussie barely has time to prepare herself before Katie launches herself into her arms.

You grinned at them, shooting Caitlin a teasing smile as Katie snuggles herself into the crook of her neck and even let out a hum of complete content.

You only look away from the amusing yet adorable scene when you hear Kyra whisper to Alessia who had her eyes shut and was resting her head on Kyra's shoulder now. You were unsure if she was sleeping or trying to but you prayed it was the former as Kyra loudly whispered 'She's so pretty.'

Alessia just mumbles before a quiet snore escapes her lips and you allow yourself to go and sit next to Kyra.

'Talking about me love?' You question cheekily, this time speaking in an actual whisper so no one else can hear.

'Yeah.' Kyra whispered back, to out of her normal mindset to tease you or be cocky, instead she sounded so sincere that your heart fluttered a little bit. Her big eyes staring up at you hopelessly as you smiled tenderly.

'Well thank you.' You smiled softly, giving her a little squeeze not wanting to do anything more knowing that if Caitlin sees she's likely to remember as she's not as shit faced as Katie is.

'It's ok, it's the truth.' Kyra sleepily smiled back at you, her eyes drooping as she leans on your shoulder, Alessia groaning from the sudden movement rubbing her eyes as she moves into a sitting position.

It takes her a while to adjust, seeming as though she must've forgotten where she was after falling asleep. When she sees you her eyes light up a little bit a grin falling on her face 'Sunny you're here.' Her words are still slurred showing that she hasn't sobered up yet, 'did Kyra tell you the big news, she has a girlfriend!'

The smile falls off your face, and you feel your hands start to sweat as nerves take over. 'really?' You manage to say weakly, you weren't prepared for everyone to know 'did she say who it was?' You ask praying that even drunk Kyra would be smart enough to not tell them.

'No.' You feel your heartbeat ease but the smile on the strikers face falters, clearly disappointed that Kyra hadn't revealed who, before she beams again 'but she kept going on about how caring and funny she was, I wish I had someone to love me like that.' The blonde sighs looking into the distance as you smiled fondly at the other girl who's head rested on your shoulder.

'So pretty.' Kyra mumbles half asleep and your smile grows before Alessia looks back at her a coos.

'Oh Sunny, you've got to help me find out who she is.' She says excitedly, and you nod weakly trying to act as if you had no clue who it could be. After seeing your reaction Alessia squeals hopping off the table, 'I've got to tell the others the big news.'

'Maybe it can just be our little secret for now.' You suggest not wanting everyone to know as they'd all pester Kyra non-stop and she was never good under pressure.

'I guess, but Katie knows as well.' You sigh bringing a hand up to your face knowing that Katie wouldn't be able to keep her big mouth shut, all you could do was hope that she'd be to drunk to remember this in the morning.

Once Alessia's left the room, you're alone with only Kyra.

'Baby it's time to go, the Ubers here.' You gently shake her causing her to groan and hug you tighter burying her face in your chest. 'You can stay at my place tonight, we can just tell Steph that you crashed on the couch.' You tempt her and a small smile forms on her face.

'Cuddles?'

'Of course.' After hearing your response she quickly hops up and grabs your hand, helping you off the counter and pulling you to walk beside her and out of the house. 'Shouldn't we say goodbye?'

'It will be fine, they probably won't even notice we're gone. Now stop trying to stop me from spending time with my girlfriend.' She whines and you laugh kissing her on the nose to quiet her complaints.

'Better?' You joke rubbing her back before sliding your arm around her waist.

'I think I'm going to need more than that.' She says a mischievous glint in her eyes. You place a small kiss on her lip, intending for it to only be a quick peck but she senses your plan and wraps her arms tightly around you stopping you from moving as she deepens the kiss.

'Kyra.' You mumble between her lips, 'someones going to see us if we keep going.' after a bit of wiggling around you finally are free of her grasp.

You gasps, acting hurt as she places her hand to heart 'my own girlfriend doesn't love me.' she exclaims dramatically and you laugh.

'You're hearts on the other side silly.' You state moving her hand to the correct position as she goes red.

'I knew that, just testing you.' she lies a grin on her face as she does.

By now your out on the street waiting in the cold for your Uber, noticing your shivering Kyra wraps an arm around you pulling you closer trying to warm you up with some of her body heat.

'I love you Ky.' You say softly, the sound of your voice the only noise in the peaceful night sky.

'Love you more.'

'Don't think that's possible.'

She doesn't have the chance to retaliate as your Uber pulls up and you both hop into the back of the car, hands still intertwined as you do so. You quickly tell the driver your address as they begin the drive home.

You and Kyra sit in a comfortable silence both staring out the window and it's only when you look to your left that you realise the sad expression on Kyra's face.

'What's wrong my love?' You ask squeezing her hand as she turns around to face you.

'It’s nothing,' she mumbles, her voice barely audible. But when you give her a stern look, she exhales heavily, her frustration palpable. 'Fine. Tonight, I kept watching Caitlin, Katie, Viv, and Beth—seeing them so effortlessly happy together. It made me ache because I want that too. I want to be able to be with you like that. I want to show you off and kiss you without having to sneak around. I want to hold your hand in public, cuddle with you on the couch, call you ‘baby’ and ‘my love’ without the constant fear of hiding. I’m tired of pretending we’re just friends when all I want is to be able to be your girlfriend.'

You weren't expecting those words to fall out of her mouth and when you do it makes your heart sting a little. What she was saying was true, you felt that way to but you were too scared of all the bad things that could happen if you did tell everyone.

'Oh baby.' You look into her brown eyes which are slightly moist and you can feel her pain, 'I'm sorry for making you feel this way, I didn't know it was upsetting you but if you want we can tell the others. It's up to you.'

She looks torn, trying to decide how to respond. She opens her mouth before shutting it then opening it again, 'that would be nice, but maybe we can wait a little longer. We'll see what it's like after the season starts.' She suggests and you nod, yawning loudly as a sudden rush of exhaustion enters your body.

'Let's get home and rest we can talk about this tomorrow.' You tell her, eyelids becoming to heavy to keep open much longer. The relief you feel when you feel the car stop and see your familiar apartment building just outside the window is welcomed and you rush to quickly pay the driver before getting out of the car.

Once you get into your apartment you and Kyra both make a beeline for the bedroom, equally as ready as the other for a good sleep. You chuck her a pair of pajamas she left last time she'd stayed the night which she puts on whilst you do the same.

Your quickly in bed her head resting on your chest as you play with her hair causing a sigh to fall from her mouth.

'Goodnight love.' She whispers into the darkness.

'Night baby.'

[bunnys-kisses]

Hi bunny, I recently found ur page and have been binge reading ur posts, you’re so good!! I have a big order. Peach cake, Red velvet cupcake and a pound cake with strawberries. With a side of with dark hot chocolate and a glass of water, George Russell🙈… if it’s too many details do it however you want bcuz your writing is amazing <3

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! i love getting orders! i accept more than just formula one so i'm always happy to try different fandoms. so please! check it out! and thank you lovely anon, i'm happy you love my work! and thank you for submitting a george russell order because i've gotten people asking for him! so thank you! i hope you love it <3

peach cake: ("if you spill a drop, we start all over.") + red velvet cupcake: ("if you don't like being called a whore, then stop acting like one.") + pound cake with strawberries: ("you know i hate going over rules, but just because i like seeing you embarrassed, i'll tell you them again.") + dark hot chocolate: (sub!reader) + glass of water: (aftercare) served by george russell (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, sub!reader & dom!george, rules & punishments, spanking, sparkling water, jealousy, aftercare, doggy style,

"you're so lucky, honestly he sounds like a prince charming!" you once heard from someone when you were talking about your boyfriend, "george just seems like such a sweet guy. like he double checked to make sure that roses wouldn't make your cat sick? most guys can barely get flowers!"

you felt your ears burn at her words and nervously played with the bracelet around your left wrist. there was on charm on it, letter 'g' for your beloved. your boyfriend, your biggest fan.

your dom, george russell.

but even men who looked like princes in fairy tales could be a little jealous. george often appeared himself to be a very sweet guy, who'd never actually hurt someone. he was a force on the track and would do what he needed to win, but he'd never put his hands on another driver. he'd never get in their face or try to get violent.

but as he watched lando norris try his hardest to pick you up, george really wanted to knock some sense into the driver. just because a woman didn't wear a neon sign that said 'taken', it didn't mean they were free game to flirt with.

and you, the future mrs. russell, should know better. even though the weight of the bracelet you wore wasn't too much. he hoped that it was enough of a reminder to behave. listen to the rules that george had laid out for you.

when lando touched your bare arm, and you stepped back a little. george knew that he had to step in. he was at your side rather quickly, smiling at lando. he wrapped an arm around you.

"see you've met my girlfriend, mate." he smiled, putting all of his charm into it, "i was looking for her." his hand snaked to your ass and you gave it a firm squeeze. you weren't off the hook.

"oh this is-" lando looked at you, "i didn't recognize her, mate. i'm so sorry!"

george was a little unconvinced when he replied,"yeah, a haircut can do that." even though you hadn't styled your hair differently in years. george didn't get too aggressive with the fellow driver because now that he was close to him, he could see that the drink in his hand was large and his stance implied it wasn't the first one of the evening.

but, george made sure that you didn't have a drop of alcohol. so while lando was drunk, you were well aware of the rules that your dom had set for you. the driver leaned to your ear and said, ""you know i hate going over rules, but just because i like seeing you embarrassed, i'll tell you them again."

and you swallowed, knowing you'd get a lecture when your boyfriend steered you away from the drunken racer. you felt the tip of your ears grow hot and you played with the bracelet. despite how nervous you felt, george was all smiles as he told lando to have a good night.

as you walked away, your lover's voice was hot in your ear, "no flirting. remember? you are mine, and i don't need other men getting their hands on you." he held you by the back. he kissed your cheek softly, "when rules are broken, there are punishments." this was part of your dynamic.

you knew there would be a punishment when you got home and you were right. a bottle of sparkling water from the grocery store was opened. and with you on your knees, opened your mouth. this was a punishment of endurance and being unbreakable. george poured a mouthful in your mouth then closed your jaw. he said, "if you spill a drop, we start all over."

you nodded before you got up onto your feet. your legs shaky as he put the bottle down on the nightstand. you held the water in your mouth as you got over his lap. you could feel his hard cock against your stomach. the goal of the punishment was to hold the water in your mouth even if the carbonation made your eyes run. and george spanked you for every infraction you did.

"you're a whore." he said as he rubbed your bare ass. he stripped you down to nothing as soon as you got home. you were to be laid out naked for him. he on the other hand was still in the shirt and slacks fro the party. it only added to the dynamic, you were exposed for him while he got to stay dressed. he slapped your ass, "you're a whore, you let norris get his hands all over you. you know if you let him suck on your pretty breasts or fuck your poor pussy, you'd be thrown away by the next day." he landed another spank across your ass.

you whimpered, trying to hold the water in your mouth. the spanks made it hard to not choke on it or have to drip out of your mouth. the bubbles of it made you feel discomfort in your face. but you had to be good.

"but not me. i'd never do that to you." he said softly, "you are my treasure. you know there's rules, that you have to be well behaved for me. or else we're going to have problems. you're my girlfriend, my love, my submissive." he landed a few more spanks across your ass, he watched your body shake with each of his slaps. but you didn't spill a drop.

the knowledge of that made george smile to himself. it wasn't hard to train you to be an amazing sub, you were always so eager to make him proud. you took your punishments with grace. he landed a few more smacks across your ass, "but you are my whore in the end. my responsibility to teach and fuck." he groped your bruised ass which made you whine.

you kicked out your legs as if you were trying to say that you weren't a whore. that you were a good girl, but it was only met with another hard smack across your cheeks. you arched your back and whined more.

"if you don't like being called a whore, then stop acting like one." he said as a warning. he took you by the jaw to look at him. your craned your neck to get a good look at your prince charming. he smiled, "swallow. then hands and knees."

you swallowed and nodded happily. and like a good girl, you opened your mouth to show you swallowed it all. you earned a pat on the cheek, which made you melt a little. you got off his lap, leaving pussy slick across his black slacks.

george noticed it and chuckled lightly before he started to unbutton his shirt. you were a messy little slut, but george adored you. he was only rough because he knew it was best for you. you were a smart girl, you just needed reminders. once he was out of his clothes, he saw you with your hips raised. ready for him as always.

"my beautiful girl." he said as got himself behind you on his knees. he admired your beauty from behind. he could feel the heat of the bruises on your ass when he placed his hand across one of the cheeks. oh, you were perfect for him, "see, norris could never have you like this. no, no. he wouldn't know what do with himself. he'd probably finish before he started." he chuckled as he gave your ass a pat. he pushed his cock all the way into you, you were beyond soaked that it was so easy for him

he started to move his hips, he pushed you into the covers by your shoulders and had the perfect angle to fuck you. you looked so pretty as you took him. you really were a good girl, the farthest thing from a whore. but he knew it excited you when your prince charming, george russell, called you such sick names. it made you hot all over, just as when he fucked you with heavy thrusts.

"ah, george. sir." you arched your back as he hit the softest parts of you. you felt like a dream, you were a fairy tale princess. from your cute face to how you dressed. to how you were good with everyone but always perfect for george. you took his cock perfectly, made for him like you came from pages of a story. it was why he need to fuck you was always so strong.

"perfect little whore." he said, his voice tinged with praise.

you moved a little bit and felt your knees start to hurt from the feeling of it all. you felt a thump in your chest from his words. you held onto the pillow under your head. your ass stung from the feeling of the previous slaps.

"see what happens when you behave. you know i'll take care of you. always, but you have to remember our rules. they're to keep you safe. you are the most important thing to me. that's why i hate when you're a whore." he continued to thrust up against you.

you believed him. that was why you put so much trust into him.he never steered you wrong. you loved him so much. and he loved you, even when he called you names in the safety of your bedroom, you loved him more than anything.

his thrusts were focused and they made you squirm. it made it feel like he was nudging up into your stomach and it took the air out of you. your pussy was a fit for him.

you held onto the covers with your back arched. you panted heavily into them. everything was hot in your body, you panted heavily into the sheets. "please, sir."

"you know i love you, and this all happens because i love you so much. and i know how good you could be for me." he said hotly into your ear, keeping you pinned to the bed.

the blood rush made your toes curled and you came with your hands buried in the soft sheets of your shared bed. you gasped into the pillow and you back arched. it was all too much, you almost had tears in your eyes.

he finished after you did, then slowly came to a stop. he pushed his entire length into you and bottomed out in you. he shuddered and coughed out a moan. his grip on you was tight. and you came once more from the intensity of it all. the sparks in your brain came alive.

your back arched as you felt him slow down and stop. you both tried to catch your breath before george pulled out and wrapped himself up around you. he got the covers over you and kissed at your face with love.

"do you need water?" being a good dom meant aftercare. especially from such a production. he peppered your face with kisses and held you in his arms, "i think there's something in the fridge you could snack on."

you looked at him and cupped his face gently, you said with half-lidded eyed, "just some water. when i can think again maybe a shower, sir."

he kissed your lips and said, "perfect, good. my good girl." even with the bruises across your ass, you felt on cloud nine. there really was nothing like having a dom. especially the kind like george. your prince charming <3

[sinning-23]

Hello,

How about a LA luffy where he's dating Reader and he keeps talking about her but no one believes him until she comes and rescue them or something I know not much details but please take this to your account English isn't my first language so excuse me

OMG THIS IS PERFECT! Thank you for the request! I apologize for taking so long to write it I've been so busy and full of writers block its insane! I added a little twist with his and made th reader a gunslinger sooo yeah(for the plot) Anywa here we go! Enjoy

Warnings: None

The strawhat crew was becoming increasingly irritated with how much Luffy would speak of this mystery woman who he claimed to be his 'girlfriend'. In all honestly, neither of them thought he had the romantic capacity to even GET a girlfriend to begin with. But the way he spoke of her...it couldn't all be lies could it?

He mentioned how you'd saved him with your remarkable skills as a gunslinger and you were an amazing shot. He gushed about how it took only one bullet to kill three men who had threatened him and when it was all over you 'pepper his face with kisses'. How you were always there to save him more times than not and that you were just absolutely beautiful. The 'prettiest girl' he'd ever seen as he told it.

"If you guys are so in love why didn't she join you on this little pirate adventure." Nami quips, eyes rolling at the most recent story Luffy had explained. He only tilted his head and smiled as if the answer was just so obvious (it wasn't.)

"It wasn't her dream." He smiles, rocking back and for a bit as Zoro finished off his drink before speaking.

"This wasn't exactly our first choice either but here we are." the swordsman smirks, his arms crossed over his chest.

The smirk was soon replaced with irritation when the waiter went to speak.

"That's different. Besides, I'm sure Luffy wouldn't leave a woman like that all on her lonesome. Right?" Sanji questions, more so trying to convince himself Luffy had more sense than that. But the brunette only shakes his head.

"Nope, she said we would cross paths again one day and I let her be. It was a deal! And now I get to wait until one day I see her beautiful face again." And before anyone could protest or pry any further, Luffy stuffed his face with food.

A sigh rang out from Nami as she leaned against the seating of the booth they're in, only to quickly shoot back up with wide eyes. Since Luffy's bounty had got a hell of a whole lot bigger, there was always the occasional run-in with someone who claimed they'd be getting their money sooner rather than later.

On this particular night though, a gang of about 6 or 7 had strutted up to their booth and slammed his bounty on the cracked wood of the table, making it shake. Zoro paused, debating if these idiots were worth the fight and Luffy continued to eat without a care in the world.

"I'm getting that bounty tonight." Then, what they all assumed was the leader spoke, his hand drawing his sword. This could have gotten ugly rather quickly but the fight seemed to be over with the sound of fired shots ringing through the eatery.

It was so quick you'd almost miss it…each shot followed by another, and one by one each of the men dropped like flies, screams and gasps of frightened patrons filling up the space momentarily. From the darkened corner of the bar stood a woman in a rather large coat that almost touched the floor.

The revolver in her hand rattled before she tucked it away into one of the many pockets that adorned her body. She was a decent height, and her hair was pushed out of her face most likely to keep her line of sight from being obscured. Finally, the once look of disgust that was painted over her features was filled with joy as she stepped over the bodies of the men she'd just laid to waste.

"Luffy!" She squeals, practically vibrating as the Stawhat leaped form his seat and embraced the mystery woman.

This wasn't the usual hug though, Luffy had simply lifted the lady and twirled her, his face buried in the crook of her neck and she giggled and tangled her fingers in his hair.

"I'm sorry did we miss something?" Nami quips, looking to the rest of the crew to confirm they were just as lost.

"This is her! Remember the girl I've been talking about!?" He practically shouts, his hand secure at your waist as that iconic smile plays over his lips.

Oh okay it was finally starting to make sense. Two cinimon rolls but one can and will kill you if they so desire...well-

Nami is the first to laugh, disbelief filling her but the closer she looks the more her laughter and smirk dies down. Luffy's hand was firm at your waist, yours on his chest as you flash a content smile.

"Y/n, meet my crew!" Luffy introduces as you jut your hand out happily, meeting that of whom you soon learn is Usopp and Sanji. Nami was next and Zoro simple noddded in your direction.

"You really know how to pick em! Congratulations on this bounty by the way love." You hum, pressing kisses over Luffy's freckled cheeks.

Damn how much love and affection could you give? It was like every two seconds your lips were pressed somewhere against their Captain’s face! And he didn’t seems to mind at all! Well, not that Luffy was bothered by it but still! With one last kiss to your boyfriend’s face, you usher the crew out of the eatery, sliding the bartender some extra berrie to apologize for the ruckus.

The two of you looked so inseparable like that, hands interlinked and swinging back and forth simultaneously.

“You know what this means don’t you. Usopp teases, sticking his hand out awaiting Nami to fulfil her end of the bargain.

She swears in defeat roller her eyes before paying.

Who wouldn’t make a bet on something as outlandish as their captain having a girlfriend!?

[edenesth]

TWTHH Spinoff: Stitched Hearts [2]

Pairing: dressmaker!Hongjoong x noblewoman!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 7.7k

Summary: Throughout his entire career, Hongjoong has received nothing but praise for his work. Never once had anyone suggested his dresses were anything short of perfection. That is, until he met the youngest daughter of the Baek household—the family's black sheep, an enigmatic spinster whom he found utterly confounding.

Part 1 | Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist

"Go home, hyung, and think carefully about what I've said," Yunho insisted, ushering the dressmaker out of his clinic, "I really can't talk right now; I need to close up."

As Hongjoong made his way back to his shop, an internal struggle ensued between his mind and heart. His mind urged him to proceed with the job, reminding him he had no reason to be so troubled. Yet, his heart protested, insisting that it wasn't right. By going along with this, he would be complicit in someone's unhappiness.

Various scenarios played out in his mind as he imagined the aftermath of the makeover he was about to undertake. There was no doubt that you would attract attention from all directions, which wasn't the issue. He could picture potential suitors vying for your hand, but the thought unsettled him for reasons he couldn't quite grasp.

By the end of the night, his rational side prevailed, leading him to choose to proceed with the job. He concluded that entrusting another dressmaker with your makeover was out of the question; after all, he was the best in all of Joseon. You said it yourself; what you liked or wanted did not matter. If you were willing to comply with your family's wishes, then who was he to object?

He chastised himself for letting his emotions cloud his judgement. Despite feeling bad for you, he reminded himself that you were simply another customer. He shouldn't allow himself to be so affected by matters that were none of his concern.

Over the next few days, he dedicated himself entirely to crafting the most exquisite hanbok. He meticulously coordinated every detail, ensuring it would meet the approval of your family. As he finalised the sketch of your ensemble, along with the hairstyle and makeup he envisioned for you, he couldn't help but notice the absence of a smile on his drawing of you. It dawned on him that he had never seen you smiling, not even once.

Although a part of him entertained the idea of coaching you to flash a killer smile, his heart twinged at the realisation that any smile he coaxed would be forced, "Snap out of it, you idiot!" he scolded himself, shaking off the unnecessary thoughts and redirecting his focus to other aspects of the design.

In the meantime, Hongjoong's name seemed to echo through your days ever since his arrival. Your family would lavish him with endless praise for his dedication to his craft, simultaneously lecturing you for not being more courteous toward him, for expecting him to seek you out without you bothering to greet him upon his arrival. If only they were aware of the cruel words he had uttered to you recently. Would they still support him so fervently? Perhaps they would side with him and reprimand you even further for not showing him enough appreciation.

"My dear, why not try being a bit more hospitable today and give Mr. Kim a little tour during his visit, hm?" your mother suggested during breakfast, her tone tinged with exasperation, "It's hard to believe he's already been here twice and has only seen the library and your quarters. Take him around the gardens, at least, will you?"

You pursed your lips, feeling a hint of irritation rising within you, though you didn't show it, "But mother, he's here to work. He's not a guest. Why should we extend such hospitality to him?" you muttered, taking another bite of your food.

Haeun scoffed in response, "Are you even listening to yourself? Mr. Kim is doing you a huge favour. He even closed his shop just to come here for you. The least you could do is show him some courtesy," your father and brother instantly agreeing with her.

Feeling frustrated, you decided to keep your mouth shut, realising that nothing you said would ever satisfy your family when they teamed up against you to highlight your supposed shortcomings.

This is dumb, he's getting paid anyway.

"What a pleasant surprise, Miss Baek! How kind of you to finally greet me and offer to take me on a tour!" the dressmaker exclaimed with raised brows as he was met with your blank stare while you stood waiting by the entrance of your family estate.

Shaking your head, you gestured for him to follow you, "Trust me, Mr. Kim, it's not my idea, and I dread this as much as you do. Please endure it for a bit for the sake of pleasing my family."

He blinked, trying not to let your bluntness affect him. He should know better than to be surprised by your straightforwardness by now. Nodding quickly, he rushed to catch up to you, already several steps ahead, apparently unconcerned whether he was following or not as you began the tour, "Right, my lady! Of course!"

Amused, he chuckled softly to himself at your bored expression as you walked past main areas like the living hall and dining hall before reaching places he recognised. Speaking in a monotone, you pointed out, "You've already seen these places. This is the library, and my quarters are just over there, but you already know that."

Turning to him, you furrowed your brows, "Is there anything funny?"

Biting his lip to suppress his laughter, he shook his head, "Not at all, Miss Baek. Please continue," he reassured, finding your reluctance somewhat endearing.

His eyes widened in wonder as you both arrived at what appeared to be a small play area for the children, "This is a mini playground my father had our servants create for his grandchildren," you explained, gesturing toward your nieces and nephews who were running around joyfully, their laughter echoing through the air. Glancing over at you, he noticed a hint of envy in your eyes, as if you longed to experience the simple happiness the children were enjoying.

After a moment, you took a deep breath and shook off the sentiment, "Well, let's move on to other areas then. I'm sure you don't have all day, Mr. Kim," you said briskly.

Without giving him a chance to reply, you headed off in another direction. He sighed before running after you again, silently cursing you for keeping him on the move. Yet, despite that, he couldn't find it in him to muster any irritation toward you. There was something about your behaviour that felt refreshing. For once, he appreciated being treated simply as another person, rather than being placed on a pedestal for all his accomplishments or appearance.

Arriving at your next location, you remarked rather sarcastically, "Of course, we can't forget the most crucial place in the entire estate, the kitchens," your voice hushed to avoid attracting attention from the busy maids for fear of disrupting their work.

Just as you were both about to leave, a burst of laughter echoed through the kitchen, accompanied by a blunt remark, "I bet the young miss will end up divorced early in her marriage, even if she miraculously finds a suitor after the makeover Mr. Kim gives her. She's an absolute nightmare! What sane man could tolerate her for long?"

Hongjoong felt his blood boil at the audacious words, growling under his breath, "How dare they—" He clenched his fists and took a step toward the door, seemingly ready to confront them.

Surprised by his reaction, you reached out and grasped his wrist, causing him to look down at your hold before meeting your gaze with a questioning expression. You sighed heavily, "Forget it, there's no point in doing whatever you intend to do. I'm already hard to like as it is, and I don't want them to dislike me even more than they already do. Let's just get out of here, Mr. Kim."

Feeling a pang in his chest, he couldn't shake off the aggravation that washed over him at the acceptance in your tone. The realisation that you were well aware of everyone's dislike towards you, yet you had resigned yourself to enduring it, stirred an unsettling mix of emotions within him. Just how long had you been suffering all this alone?

When he remained rooted in his spot, you squeezed his wrist and whispered, "Please, can we just go?"

With a defeated expression, he squeezed his eyes shut and nodded, "Fine, as you wish."

As you both left the kitchen behind, his mind buzzed with unanswered questions. Why wouldn't you stand up for yourself? And why wouldn't you let him be the one to defend you? It frustrated him to no end. He couldn't comprehend how someone as strong-willed as you could endure such treatment.

The weight of your silence hung heavy in the air, leaving him feeling helpless and conflicted. He wanted to reach out, to offer some form of solace or support, but he couldn't find the right words. Instead, he walked alongside you in silence, his mind racing with thoughts of how to help you.

Glancing at him, you could easily discern his struggle to contain his annoyance. But what you couldn't understand was why he seemed more bothered by it than you, especially considering his apparent dislike toward you. Eager to move past the incident, you decided to follow your mother's suggestion and led him to the gardens.

"I hope you like flowers, Mr. Kim," you offered as you strolled among the blooms, "These are some of my mother's proudest collections, gathered from other provinces."

Relief washed over you as he appeared to be distracted, showing genuine interest as he examined some of the rare flowers not typically found in this area.

Giving him a moment alone, you scanned the area, straining to hear a faint meowing. Your eyes widened and you gasped as you spotted a cat stranded atop a tree. Without hesitation, you rushed forward, calling out, "Don't worry, kitty! I'll rescue you!" Your hands reached for the tree branch as you searched for a secure foothold to climb.

"Ooh, this one's pretty! Where did this come from?" he pondered aloud, his brow furrowing at the lack of response. Glancing up, he did a double take upon seeing you attempting to scale a tree.

Hastening over, he halted your ascent with a firm grip on your arm, "I turn away for one second and—have you lost your mind? What in god's name do you think you're doing?!"

Clicking your tongue in frustration, you pointed to the poor little distressed animal above, "Let me go. I'm going to save the cat, whether you like it or not."

The dressmaker sighed in exasperation, slapping a palm against his forehead as he observed the determination in your eyes. With a roll of his eyes, he relented, "Ugh, fine. Step aside, I'll do it."

You huffed, conceding to his offer, and relinquished your position. As he handed you the bag containing your latest hanbok, he rolled up his sleeves, muttering to himself, "I can't believe I'm doing this," before proceeding to climb the tree with surprising agility. However, he soon realised the tree was taller than expected, and panic gripped him as he reached the top, letting out a startled yelp, "Oh my god, this tree is way taller than I thought!"

"Quit wasting time and save the cat!" you urged, frustration creeping into your voice. When he shot you a glare, you narrowed your eyes and challenged, "If you're so scared, get down here then! I'll do it!"

"No, no, no, don't you dare! What kind of man would I be to let you do it, huh? You stay put and wait down there," he insisted firmly, before reaching out tentatively for the frightened animal, "Come here, kitty. It's alright, just come to me and you'll be safe."

With bated breath, you observed as his hand shook pitifully. Slowly but surely, the animal inched closer to him, bit by bit, until it ended up snugly in his arms. A sigh of relief escaped you as he succeeded. Holding the rescued feline close to his chest, he carefully made his way back down.

As soon as he handed the cat over to you, his legs gave out, and he sank onto the ground. His face was blank, as if he were still trying to process what he had just done. The last thing he expected when coming here today was to do something like this.

Seeing his defeated posture, unlike his usual composed demeanour, you couldn't help but let a smile sneak onto your face, eventually bursting into a fit of giggles as you replayed the scene in your head. At the sound, he glanced up, captivated by the melody of your laughter. Frozen in place, his heart skipped a beat as he beheld your smile for the first time, genuine happiness lighting up your features. At that moment, he realised your beauty, wanting nothing more than to see that smile more often.

How pretty.

Since that day, both of you appeared to have grown more at ease with each other. He abandoned the formalities, as you urged, and shed the false pleasantries. Finally, he felt comfortable enough to be his true self around you, letting his unfiltered thoughts flow freely and speaking his mind without reservation. You didn't seem to mind, especially since he hadn't intended any offence with his words.

While you wouldn't go as far as calling yourselves friends, there was a comfort in each other's presence that had developed. Even in moments of silence, there was never any awkwardness, only an unspoken understanding between you, a connection that required no verbal declaration; you simply understood each other.

Over Hongjoong's recent visits, a routine had formed. You would courteously greet him at the entrance before guiding him to your quarters. There, he would assist you in trying on the hanboks he had crafted, ensuring they fit perfectly and required no further alterations. He would experiment with different makeup and hairstyles, exploring which suited you best.

After weeks of diligent work to assemble the perfect ensemble for you, today marked the culmination of his efforts—the day he would finally unveil your complete makeover. With an array of hanboks he had brought from his previous visits, they were sufficient to constitute an entirely new wardrobe for you. This was the moment your family had eagerly anticipated, the outcome they had engaged the dressmaker for. He observed you scrutinise the items he had meticulously prepared, your expression unreadable.

"Are you ready, Miss Baek?" he inquired.

You shot him a look that seemed to convey 'are you kidding me', your lips pursed, "Does it matter? Just do what you have to, Kim."

With a nod, he began with your hair and makeup, his heart quickening with every movement under the weight of your attentive gaze, fixated on his handsome features. Unbeknownst to him, you held your breath whenever he moved a little closer to perfect your eye makeup. Cursing himself, he attempted to steady his trembling hands as he moved on to your lips, "Could you please look away or close your eyes?" he requested.

"Why?" you inquired, devoid of any jest.

He sighed, "Look, it's... it's distracting, okay? I find it hard to concentrate when you're watching me so intently."

Rolling your eyes, you acquiesced and closed your eyes, "And you claim to be a professional," you remarked.

For once, he lacked the energy to retort, his heart dancing with sensations he had never experienced before. Despite having applied makeup for countless women, he had never encountered such a physical reaction. Puzzled, he struggled to understand the inexplicable effect you seemed to have on him and his poor heart.

"Everything's finished, except for putting on the hanbok," he announced, placing his tools aside before excusing himself momentarily as your maids began assisting you with one of the most elaborate hanboks he had produced. Stepping outside your quarters, he was taken aback to see your entire family assembled and waiting. Bowing respectfully, he greeted them, "Ah, you've all arrived right on time. Miss Baek is almost prepared."

Hajoon stepped forward, extending his hand to shake the dressmaker's, "With your assistance, I'm certain she'll look stunning. Thank you so much for your dedication, Mr. Kim," your parents chimed in, expressing their gratitude for his hard work.

Suddenly, the attention shifted as one of your nephews pointed towards the entrance of your room, exclaiming, "Look, a princess!" All eyes turned to catch a glimpse of you.

A chorus of gasps escaped from your family members as they beheld the sight before them. Your family was overcome with awe, your mother and sister shedding tears of joy as if you had finally fulfilled their deepest wishes. Turning around, Hongjoong's breath caught in his throat as he took in your completed transformation for the first time, mirroring the astonishment of everyone else. You appeared breathtaking, meeting society's standards of perfection and seamlessly fitting into their expectations. Yet, the absence of joy in your expression failed to bring him satisfaction.

She's not happy.

In truth, a foolish part of him clung to the hope that you might still be impressed by your transformation once you had seen your beauty, despite knowing your reservations. He harboured a fleeting expectation that your initial reluctance stemmed from never seeing yourself adorned in such finery before, and that your perspective would shift upon witnessing your present appearance. But he knew he was wrong as soon as he observed your evident discomfort, your fingers clutching the hanbok's skirt tightly, your gaze averted while your family showered you with adoration.

Confusion enveloped him at that moment. He should have felt elated that his vision had come to fruition; your family's satisfaction with his work signalled the success of his mission. However, instead of joy, remorse consumed him; your family's praises fell on deaf ears, and all he could see was the despair in your hunched shoulders.

"Mr. Kim, this is utter perfection! You've truly outdone yourself! Please join us for dinner tonight before you leave! It's the least we can do for all the work you've put in over the past few weeks!" your father invited, excitement evident in his tone.

Normally, he would reject such offers, but he realised he wasn't ready to leave you just yet. With only you in mind, Hongjoong accepted, "It would be my pleasure, Official Baek."

Seated beside you in the dining hall that night, the dressmaker did his best to engage with your family members. However, his attention kept drifting back to you, noticing your silence as you picked at your food, showing little appetite. He grew concerned seeing you repeatedly reach for the wine glass, drinking more than eating. Haeun's disapproving glare didn't escape his notice.

"That's enough, maknae. No man likes a drunkard for a wife. With your enhanced looks, you'll be attracting a suitor real soon. Now's the time for you to start training to be a proper lady," she scolded.

Hajoon chortled, "Let her. Perhaps she'll be a better wife when drunk. That version of her might be more tolerable than her usual self."

To Hongjoong's dismay, your sister and parents joined in the laughter, despite your brother-in-law and sister-in-law exchanging apologetic glances in your direction. At that moment, he lost his appetite completely as he watched you quietly enduring it all, much like when the maids made fun of you.

Before he could inquire if you were okay, your father addressed him, "Mr. Kim, we apologise on our youngest's behalf for any trouble she may have caused you. Surely, she couldn't have been easy to work with. We will compensate you nicely for all your efforts."

Wanting to use the opportunity to stand up for you, he plastered on his most professional smile and spoke, "Not at all, my lord. Miss Baek has been an absolute pleasure to work with. She's remarkably selfless, unlike many customers who approach me solely for superficial reasons. Despite her reservations about fashion, she wholeheartedly complies for her family's sake. And I deeply respect her for that. The opportunity to make her clothing is reward enough for me. I consider myself fortunate to have such a client."

His response surprised everyone, including you, with its sincerity and absence of flattery or deceit. Your mother blinked, ashamed of herself for laughing moments ago, "Oh, that's reassuring to hear. Perhaps we should give her more credit for her efforts."

The atmosphere turned slightly awkward after the dressmaker's indirect words, making it clear he disapproved of their conversation about you. It seemed as though his remarks had prompted them to reflect on their behaviour, recognising the cruelty of mocking their own family member. Despite your usual straightforwardness, they understood that you truly never meant to hurt anyone's feelings. Guilt washed over them as they realised their earlier actions had been intentional and hurtful.

Absorbing the aftermath of Hongjoong's defence of you, a surge of emotion welled up inside you. His words resonated deeply, touching a part of you that had longed for such validation. No one had ever stood up for you in such a manner, not even your own family, who were supposed to be your closest allies. To hear someone speak so kindly of you, with genuine sincerity, was a rare and precious gift.

Looking up at him, you felt a warmth spread through your chest. Perhaps, in that moment, he had become more than just a dressmaker to you. Maybe, without him even realising it, he had earned the title of friend.

As he gently confiscated the wine glass from your hand and replenished your bowl with food, a tiny smile tugged at the corners of your lips. His gesture felt like a moment of genuine concern that warmed your heart. Whether or not he realised it, he was showing you a level of care you hadn't experienced before, and it felt comforting to be treated with such thoughtfulness.

"Stop drinking so much and eat more, my lady. You'll be sick if you keep up like that," he lectured with a soft grin.

You wondered if this was his way of showing that he cared. Regardless, it felt nice to be looked after, to have someone pay attention to your well-being in such a simple yet meaningful way. As you took a bite of the food he had placed before you, a sense of gratitude washed over you, grateful for his unexpected kindness in a world that had often felt cold and indifferent.

After the meal, he said his farewells to your family but insisted on walking you back to your quarters before departing. Upon reaching your room entrance, you turned to him, saying, "Well, I'm here safe now. You can leave, Mr. Kim."

He scoffed lightly, "Would it hurt to have a little chat before I go?"

Taking a seat on the short staircase leading to your room, he patted the space beside him, gesturing for you to join him, "Come on. I don't know when I'll see you again after this. Let's just... talk."

Your heart felt uneasy at the reminder that today marked the grand finale, and with it over, his job here was considered done. He would have no reason to visit your family estate unless summoned. Reluctantly, you settled down beside him on the step.

Despite his desire to converse, there was a moment of silence as you both pondered what to say. The ambience was filled with the chirping of crickets and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze as you sat side by side, your shoulders lightly touching. Mustering his courage, he finally broached the subject, "Be honest with me, Miss Baek. Do you hate my designs? I've noticed your unease since you put them on."

Gazing down at the vibrant hanbok adorning your frame, feeling the weight of the accessories on your head and the unfamiliar thickness of the makeup on your usually bare face, you let out a sigh, "I don't hate them. It's just... honestly, I don't feel worthy of such finery. They're undeniably beautiful, but they don't resonate with who I am. And if this is what it takes to attract a husband, I can't help but wonder... what good is a man who would only value me for my looks? What kind of marriage would that be? The maids had a point. Any man fooled by this appearance would likely end up divorcing me."

Frowning, he turned to you, seeing the rare display of emotion as your eyes glistened with tears, "That's not true, why would you think you're unworthy?" he questioned, genuine concern evident in his voice. Though he wanted to agree that a man like that did not deserve to be with you, he opted to address what truly mattered.

You let out a humourless chuckle, a sound that tugged at his heartstrings. It was unlike you to expose your vulnerabilities in such a manner. Perhaps it was the comfort of Hongjoong's presence or the effects of the alcohol. Or maybe it was a combination of both. You shut your eyes as your world began to spin, whispering, "I've never been good enough for anything or anyone. My parents made that abundantly clear since I was a child. Nobody has ever truly liked me, and don't pretend otherwise, I know you disliked me too. I just... I'm so tired. I want to be loved for who I am. Is that too much to ask...?"

It really isn't, my lady. I'm right here.

Your voice trailed off, a tear tracing down your cheek as you rested your head against his shoulder, succumbing to exhaustion. His heart ached as he hesitated, then gently wrapped an arm around your shoulders. Once he was certain you were truly asleep, he carefully slid his other arm beneath your legs and carried you into your room.

The dressmaker felt as if his life hadn't been the same since taking on that job. It had been nearly a week since he last saw you, the image of your tear-stained sleeping face lingering in his mind as he tucked you into bed. A heavy weight settled in his heart as he silently bid you farewell that night, making his way home with a sense of numbness.

Every day after that felt unsettling.

The initial satisfaction he anticipated from accepting your sister's job offer eluded him. Thoughts of you consumed his mind relentlessly. He wondered about your well-being—whether you were eating properly, sleeping soundly, finding happiness. Despite his yearning to see you again, even just a glimpse to ensure you were okay, he knew he had no reason to visit the Baek estate. The job was completed, and he had received his payment in full. Alongside the surge in his reputation, he had earned widespread recognition for transforming the once pitiful youngest Miss Baek into the stunning beauty you are today.

Consequently, his business flourished. Recognising his inability to change the situation, he threw himself into his work, attempting to maintain a semblance of normalcy. Day after day, he laboured tirelessly in his shop, his pockets filling up, yet his heart growing emptier with each passing moment.

"Huh, who would've thought this day would come? It seems someone could rob you in broad daylight, and you wouldn't even notice," the sudden familiar deep voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Looking up, he found Seonghwa standing right beside his work desk, "What's up with you, Kim Hongjoong? Need a break?"

"I told you, he's been acting all weird since he completed the Baek family's job," Wooyoung chimed in, appearing behind the general.

The dressmaker blinked, "Wh-what are you two idiots doing here?"

Seonghwa scoffed, "Oh wow, is that really the way to greet your friends who care enough to come check on you?"

Flustered, Hongjoong cleared his throat and returned to work, "Why do you have to check on me? I'm doing just fine."

"Are you really? That's not what Yunho told us. It sounds like someone's finally having girl problems," the investigator retorted.

The general grinned, "You know, for someone who gives so much relationship advice, you're rather terrible with matters of the heart when it comes to yourself."

With a sigh, the dressmaker rolled his eyes, "I don't have any problems. You two should worry about yourselves instead. Haven't you heard? Taken men have more issues than single lads like myself." The two had been exceptionally insufferable ever since the younger man had also begun courting his precious Miss Han, always borderline making fun of the rest for still being single.

"Really? So you're not bothered that Miss Baek has finally found a suitor?" Wooyoung teased. At that, Hongjoong dropped the pencil in his hand, head snapping up with wide eyes, "What did you say?"

His friends exchanged knowing grins before the younger one repeated, "I said, the youngest miss of the Baek family has finally found a suitor. The eldest son of the Yoon family has asked for her hand in marriage."

The dressmaker felt his heart drop, "The Yoon family...? Aren't they the ones on the verge of bankruptcy?"

Seonghwa nodded, "That's correct. I guess they must be taking the opportunity to forge a union with the Baek family to save themselves financially. I suppose it wouldn't be so bad now that the youngest miss is finally pretty enough to marry."

"Don't you dare say that about her; she's perfect the way she was. Her appearance doesn't define her," Hongjoong growled, glowering at his friend for the first time.

Rather than reacting negatively, his friends applauded his response, the older man smirking, "Congratulations, you're in love."

"I'm not—"

Wooyoung sighed in exasperation, "Listen, it doesn't matter to us whether you think you're in love or not. But if you aren't, I suppose it wouldn't matter that today is the day the Baek and Yoon families formalise the engagement. Do what you will with that information; we have a double date to enjoy."

At that moment, he came to the realisation that what he had been feeling all along was love. Looking back, he should have recognised the signs from the very beginning; despite his irritation with you, genuine anger never surfaced. The incessant thoughts of you had been consuming every moment of his life, a clear indicator in hindsight. Yet, he couldn't fathom why he had persisted in denying it. It was evident that he wasn't fooling anyone except himself.

The dressmaker's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he watched his friends leave his shop, "W-wait!" he called out, his voice tinged with a hint of nervousness, "Thanks, guys. I appreciate the help."

With a playful wink, the general teased, "Atta boy, go get your girl. I'm looking forward to making it a triple date next time."

God, I sure hope she feels the same.

Meanwhile, you wandered through the gardens of your estate, accompanied by Byungho, the eldest son of the Yoon family and your soon-to-be fiancé, a sense of unease lingered within you. The suddenness of his proposal, along with his family's involvement, left you in a state of shock. While you had anticipated attracting suitors after your makeover, you hadn't expected everything to unfold in less than a week. Despite Byungho's outward appearance of kindness, you didn't know how to feel about spending the rest of your life with him.

Besides, you weren't entirely clueless.

You'd heard all the rumours circulating about his family's financial troubles, stemming from a failed business venture that had left them on the brink of bankruptcy. You understood that his proposal wasn't solely motivated by your newfound beauty; rather, you were seen as a solution to his family's predicament. And since he was still unmarried, it would be like killing two birds with one stone.

Even as you walked alongside the man who was supposed to be your future husband, your thoughts were consumed by a certain dressmaker. Amidst the familiar scenery of the garden, memories of your shared moments played on a loop in your mind.

Like the cat you had rescued and set free, you couldn't help but wonder about both of them—the stray animal and its saviour. Did he ever think of you, even fleetingly? The maids had recounted the events of your final night with him; how he had carried you back to your room and tucked you in with care. You regretted being influenced by alcohol, wishing you had bid him a proper farewell.

Now, you knew you would never see him again—the first person to show you genuine kindness despite a rocky start, the first to truly care, the first you had considered a friend... and perhaps more.

I miss you, Kim Hongjoong.

Little did you know, he stood just outside the entrance to your family estate, struggling to catch his breath. He pleaded with the guards stationed at the gate, conveying the urgency of his situation, "Please, I left behind a crucial tool that I need to retrieve."

"We apologise, Mr. Kim, but the Baek family is hosting important guests today, and we cannot permit entry to outsiders without a valid reason. Perhaps you could return tomorrow," the guard explained respectfully, bowing his head in apology.

As he regained his composure, a sense of desperation gripped him. He knew exactly who those guests were and the purpose of their visit. He couldn't afford to wait until tomorrow; he had to be there to stop it all now. However, he couldn't reveal the true reason to the guards, fearing it would only lead to his expulsion from the premises.

Summoning his typically fearless demeanour, he planted his hands on his hips and fixed the guard with an unamused stare, "Listen, I have a significant client waiting on her hanbok for tomorrow. If I lose her business because of this delay, will you take responsibility for my losses? I doubt your salary could cover the cost. So, soldier, are you prepared to shoulder that burden?"

The guard swallowed nervously, "I-I..."

Rolling his eyes, Hongjoong pressed on, "All I need is a moment to retrieve my belongings. What harm could my brief presence possibly cause? Do you think the guests will be bothered by a mere dressmaker dropping by to pick up his things?"

Lord forgive me for deceiving this poor man.

Finally relenting, the guard stepped aside, "I suppose you have a point, sir. My apologies."

As soon as he was out of the guard's line of sight, he moved stealthily like a spy. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself and face a barrage of questions. His heart raced in his chest as he scanned every corner frantically in search of you. Inside, the living hall buzzed with activity, hosting both your family and the Yoons. However, you and the eldest Yoon son were conspicuously absent. Panic and protectiveness surged within him at the thought of you being alone with another man.

He felt a wave of relief wash over him when he discovered your quarters were vacant. The mere thought of finding you with another man in your room made his stomach churn with jealousy. Passing by the library, he was once again grateful to find it deserted. These were sacred spaces shared only between the two of you, and he refused to let anyone else intrude upon them.

Finally, a sense of calm settled over him when he spotted you in the garden with your prospective betrothed. Taking cover behind a nearby tree, he strained to eavesdrop on your conversation while contemplating his next move. Walking up to you and blurting out his feelings like a madman seemed out of the question. Not only would it be reckless, but he also had to consider what your family would think of him if he acted so impulsively.

He needed to devise a careful plan of action.

Perking up, his attention sharpened as he heard the eldest Yoon son's words to you, "My lady, we've been here for a while. Would you perhaps like to have some tea in a more... secluded spot?"

Hongjoong's blood ran cold at the suggestion, his fists tightening involuntarily until he heard your firm response, "I'm not in the mood for tea, Byungho. If you want some, feel free to go ahead and enjoy it yourself. I'll be right here." A surge of pride swelled within him at your characteristic straightforwardness.

That's my girl, you tell him.

A tense silence hung in the air before Byungho's frustration reached its boiling point, "Enough of this, I've had it with you," he burst out, "Do you honestly believe that just because you've become more attractive, you're suddenly something special? Do you know what men outside are saying about you? Sure, you finally look pretty enough to marry, but they would have considered you if only you were a couple of years younger. Take a good look at yourself in the mirror, you're old. Be grateful I'm willing to marry you. You have no right to be playing Ice Princess with me right now, you hear me?"

The dressmaker's blood boiled as he listened to Byungho's disrespectful tirade against you. Unable to contain his anger any longer, he emerged from his hiding spot and strode purposefully toward the two of you.

"Look who's talking," he interjected, his voice laced with fury, "If she's so undesirable, why the hell are you and your family here begging to have her hand in marriage?" He narrowed his eyes at the bastard, his words dripping with disdain, "Look at yourself, Yoon Byungho. You're going broke and are relying on a woman to save yourself. I don't think you should be the one to talk."

Byungho's face turned red with anger as he shot back, "Who the hell do you think you are? Wait a minute, I know you. Aren't you just a lowly dressmaker? You have no right to speak to me like that."

But Hongjoong stood his ground, undeterred by Byungho's attempts to intimidate him, "I may be a dressmaker, but at least I have the decency to respect others," he retorted, "Unlike you, who seems to think you can treat people however you please just because of your family name. Would you prefer to back off on your own, or would you like me to repeat your earlier words to Official and Lady Baek word for word? Do you reckon they'd still want such a son-in-law?"

As the tension between them escalated, you watched in shock, unsure of what to make of the confrontation unfolding before you.

You didn't know how to react when Byungho scoffed in disbelief, "Whatever, I can't stand her anyway," he said before turning to you, "And you, don't come crying to me when you can't find someone to marry."

"Oh, don't you worry, she won't," the dressmaker sneered, watching the despicable man huff and stalk off.

Still in a state of shock, you blinked rapidly, trying to process Hongjoong's sudden appearance and his unexpected action in ending your engagement so abruptly, "M-Mr. Kim...? What have you done?"

He narrowed his eyes at you, "What have I done? More like, what are you doing, woman?" he retorted.

"I haven't done anything," you fought back.

"Exactly! Were you really just going to marry that douche of a man if I hadn't shown up? Even after he said those things to you? Don't you want to be happy?" he questioned.

Massaging your temples, you struggled to understand his point, "I don't get it, Mr. Kim. What are you trying to say? You know better than anyone my happiness never mattered."

He ignored your question, "Of course, it matters! And what the hell are you wearing?!"

Confused, you looked down at the hanbok you were wearing, one of his designs, "What do you mean? This is your—"

"Only wear what you want and do what you want! Why should you be so unhappy? This is your life!" he interrupted, frustrated.

Exasperated, you sighed, "In case you haven't been paying attention, no man will ever want me if I were to—"

He cut you off, gripping your shoulders firmly as he looked into your eyes, "I do! I want to be with you, okay? Your happiness matters to me more than anything else!" he declared before bravely pulling you into his arms. He felt like he could finally breathe again when you lifted your arms to hug him back.

A week had passed since that pivotal moment, and it was remarkable how one single moment could alter the course of your life. Hongjoong's unexpected intervention had changed everything. Byungho's decision to call off the engagement had left both families in shock, particularly his own, given their desperate need for financial assistance. The bastard was more keen to preserve his reputation, fearful of the repercussions of his outburst towards you. Strangely, your family seemed somewhat relieved by the turn of events, although the reasons behind their reaction remained unclear.

Eventually, it became clear when the dressmaker approached them, seeking permission to court you. The knowing grins exchanged among your family members answered your unspoken questions.

Haeun's laughter, unexpected to both you and Hongjoong, was joined by Hajoon's, "I knew it! I knew there was something between you two! Your actions spoke volumes, Mr. Kim, especially your protectiveness towards her that night. We've been waiting for you to realise it."

Your parents nodded, "You have our blessing, Mr. Kim. So long as our youngest is happy. But ultimately, it's her consent that truly matters. You should ask her if she's willing."

The dressmaker hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest as he reached for your hand, "I did ask her..." His nerves eased when you willingly intertwined your fingers with his, "And she said yes."

And ever since that moment, he hadn't let you go for long, always claiming to miss you. Though you were too shy to admit it aloud, you felt the same. Now, as you stroll along the bustling streets of town for the first time in what feels like forever, his hand securely holding yours, he shows you around, "Come on, beautiful. There's still so much to see."

He slowed his pace, noticing the slightly overwhelmed expression on your face, and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, "Are you feeling alright, darling?" he asked, scanning the surroundings, wondering if you were perhaps feeling insecure due to any stares, "Is it the hanbok? I promise I'll make an even simpler version next time."

You shook your head immediately, "What? No! I like this, Joong, I really do," you said, smiling down at the simple yet elegant pastel-coloured fabric he had picked especially for you. He had replaced all the previous ones he made for you with a new batch of minimalistic hanboks you'd prefer.

Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, he persisted, "Are you sure? You know you can tell me anything."

You chuckled softly, and he felt a flutter in his chest at the sight of your beautiful smile, "Of course, you know I can't lie to save my life."

His laughter echoed with realisation, "That's true, how could I forget?"

Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, you leaned your head against his shoulder, your favourite spot, "I was just thinking..."

"About what?"

You blushed, "About us."

As you reached a serene little bridge spanning over a gentle river, you both paused to admire the tranquil scene below, leaning against the ledge side by side, "What about us?" he asked.

Turning to meet his gaze, you softened, "I just find it amusing how we ended up like this, together. I recall how much you couldn't stand me when we first met, and I thought I'd never see you again once the makeover was done. Yet... here you are."

He grinned warmly, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours, "Here I am, my darling. I was an idiot then, but I have no intention of ever leaving your side again."

Your heart brimmed with joy, a sensation you never thought you'd have the pleasure of experiencing. Similarly, Hongjoong felt a sense of pride as he observed you gradually opening up, becoming more at ease in expressing your emotions around him. He was proud of the progress you had made.

Caught up in the moment, he summoned the courage to finally kiss you. Truth be told, he had been searching for the right moment to share your first kiss but wanted to respect your boundaries. He knew you must have been new to all this, and to be fair, he wasn't much more experienced than you. While he had seen many couples throughout his life and displays of affection were nothing new to him, he lacked firsthand experience. He often wondered when would be the right time to take such a step.

Sensing his gaze fixed on your lips, your breath caught in your throat. Was the moment finally here? Were you about to share your first kiss? You closed your eyes instinctively as he leaned in, taking it as his cue to press his lips against yours.

Here goes nothing.

As your lips met, a rush of euphoria swept through him when he felt you kissing him back softly, enjoying the sensation of your lips on his. Slowly pulling back, you both broke into shy smiles, "That felt nice," he said, and you nodded in agreement, "It really did." Just as he leaned down again, intent on kissing you once more, you were both snapped out of your trance by the sound of a child yelling for help.

Reaching for his hand, you immediately pulled him towards the source of the commotion, only to find a little girl pointing to the top of a tree, "Help, please, somebody help my poor little kitty!"

You couldn't help but burst into giggles at the familiar scene as Hongjoong shook his head, "Nope, absolutely not. Someone else can help her," Pouting, you tugged at his arm, "Please, Joong? We have to help the poor thing! I'll give you a kiss when you do."

His jaw dropped before determination filled his being, "You know what? Deal. You best not go back on your words, woman."

Rolling up his sleeves, he approached the tree with a shake of his head in disbelief, "Goodness, the things I do for her," he muttered. But as he glanced back and saw the beautiful smile on your face, he realised he would be willing to save a thousand, no—a million more cats if that's what it takes to make you smile like that every day.

Anything to make you happy, darling.

If you haven't already read the first bonus chapter of TWTHH, please do so soon! I'll be working on the second bonus chapter after this hehe also, I hope you're all excited for Yunho's spinoff next!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[room-surprise]

How Old Is Thistle?

(EDIT: I've made a follow-up post to this one that goes deeper into the math and additional evidence that the 5:1 ratio is correct. You can read it here!)

I've seen people debating this and a lot of folks insisting that Thistle is a child, and since Thistle just debuted in the anime, I wanted to do a full write-up to help myself and others figure this out.

We don't know how old any of the Merini family members are exactly, so the best we can do is guess based on the information we have, but after carefully studying the manga, I think Thistle is at least a teenager, but much more likely a young adult, and definitely not a prepubescent child.

Here's what we know:

EDIT: Depending on what translation you read of some of the extra materials, Freinag implies that Thistle is the same age as some of his advisors.

Here's a detailed translation of this panel from my friend Fumi:

Elves age 5 times slower than tall-men.

16 year old tall-men in Dungeon Meshi's medieval time period are adults, they commonly join the military, get married, have children, etc.

An 80 year old elf is an adult. Pattadol is 82 and she's a lieutenant in a military unit. It's her first job and she's obviously a rookie, but Captain Flamela tells Pattadol to accomplish her mission or die trying.

Many fully adult elves look like what we might consider children or young teens, because they're short, petite, and have androgynous features.

An average elven adult is around 150-155cm tall (5 ft), meaning some are shorter than that, and some are taller. Thistle is 130 cm, which is short, but not unheard of.

Fleki is 130 (26) years old and she's 140 cm tall (4'7")

Otta is 137 (27) years old and she's 130 cm (4'5") tall, the same height as Thistle!

They are both women, but there's probably plenty of elven men in their height range.

Just so we can compare Thistle to some adult elven men, Mithrun and his brother are probably adults (or close to it) in the panel on the left.

Mithrun (in this image) is somewhere between 75 and 144 (probably in his 80's), and his brother is older than him (so he could be in his late 80s or 90s). As you can see, they don't look that different from Thistle, Otta or Fleki.

So, how old is Thistle?

(Spoilers below the cut)

Thistle was brought to the royal court as a child (found on the street, stolen or purchased, we don't know how they got him). At the absolute youngest I'd guess Thistle is 25 years old here (so about 5 years old for a tall-man.) He can already play the flute, and possibly the lute, and most children that aren't prodigies can't handle playing an instrument (physically or mentally) until they're around 5.

EDIT: We now know that Thistle is the same age as Freinag, the king that takes him in! So Thistle must be at least 25 years old in this comic, though realistically he could be anywhere from 25 to 40 based on how Kui drew Freinag.

He lived in the court for an unknown amount of time, Freinag hasn't changed much but Thistle appears to have aged a little, so let's say it's been 5 years and Thistle is 30 (6) when Delgal is born. More than 5 years could have passed, but I'm trying to keep the numbers low.

Delgal gets married and has a child. Delgal should be at least 15 at this point, but since he has a full mustache before his wedding, I think he's in his 20's, since teenagers tend to not be the best at growing robust facial hair.

(He has a full beard by the time Eodio's a young child.)

Thistle puts the kingdom inside the dungeon around this point, however, people are still aging: Delgal's grandson Yaad is born, and Eodio is clearly a young adult here, probably in his 20's. Therefore, there is NO REASON to assume Thistle stopped aging. "The dungeon lords don't age" is a common fan headcanon I've seen people spreading, but it has no clear canon basis.

Yaad ages until he looks about 13-15 years old, and at this point all of the people of the kingdom and Thistle appear to stop aging, and 1,000 years pass.

So, the youngest Thistle could possibly be, if he was 30 (6) when Delgal was born, if Delgal was 15 when he had Eodio, and Eodio was 15 when he had Yaad, and Yaad is 13 years old...

Is 73 years old, which would make Thistle about 14.6 years old by tall-man standards.

HOWEVER, I think it's VERY unlikely that all the characters are that young.

I think it's clear from Kui's drawings that Delgal and Eodio are not 15 years old when they become fathers, and that Freinag is at least 25 when he takes in Thistle.

If we assume Thistle was 30 when Delgal was born, and Delgal and Eodio were both at least 20 when they had children, even if Yaad is only 13 years old, that makes Thistle at least 83 years old (16.6), and makes him older than Pattadol, who is an adult at 82.

However, I think it's entirely possible that Thistle was anywhere from 40-50 when Delgal was born, and Delgal could have been anywhere from 20 to 30 when he had Eodio, and Eodio could have been anywhere from 20-25 when he had Yaad. If you use the maximum ages, and assume Yaad is 15, then Thistle could be as old as 120 (24).

I think a reasonable middle ground is assuming Thistle was 30 (6) when Delgal was born, Delgal had Eodio at 25, Eodio had Yaad at 20, and Yaad is 15... Which would make Thistle 90 (18) years old.

This of course says nothing about Thistle's emotional maturity or sanity, he's obviously stunted in some ways, but the point I want to make here is:

Thistle's age could be anywhere from 14.6 to 24 at the most extreme, but more realistically he's somewhere between 16.6 and 18.

And that's not even counting the thousand years that he's lived since then!

And that's all I've got to say about that 🙏🙏🙏🙏

(EDIT: Follow-up post with additional evidence here.) EDIT 2: I've seen a lot of people talking about the page Kui drew talking about elven earmuffs. It's considered just barely okay for Pattadol to wear them, but it's ok for Thistle to wear them... In which case I'd say Thistle could be any age younger than 83. That's handy as it knocks out some of the older ages!

So in that case Thistle's age is between 73 years old and 82, which makes him developmentally between 14.6 and 16.4!

[hajimeseyo]

(part 1 here! it's not required for reading this piece, but they are connected, so it'll make more sense if you read the first part first!)

The door to the sewing club slides open with a loud BANG!

“Yo.” A tall, intimidating guy with blond, braided hair strolls in, with all the casualness of someone taking a trip to the convenience store.

You gape wordlessly at him from where you're sitting, still jolted from the lound and sudden bang. Who is this? What does he want?? Has he ever heard of knocking??? 

“Let’s go eat, Mitsuya, I'm hungry as fu– oh, sorry, didn't see you there.” he strides into the room, pausing when he sees you. You can only blankly nod in response, the movement itself almost pure instinct, brain still running on fight or flight mode. 

A light chuckle comes from your right, and you shift your gaze to the lilac haired male sitting next to you. He shoots you a reassuring smile before turning his attention back to the blond, now standing in front of him.

“Gimme a moment, yeah? I'm almost done here.” He motions to the school jacket in his hand. Your school jacket, actually. You accidentally ripped it while you were at school, and Mitsuya insisted on helping you fix it, waving away your voiced worries of taking away his precious lunch time. 

He returns to the current task at hand, hands swiftly and fluidly sewing the tear up, masterful after years of practice. Your gaze returns back to the blond guy as he pulls up a chair from one of the nearby tables and plops down across from Mitsuya. They seem familiar with each other, the way both are relaxed in each other’s presence. 

“Oh yeah, this is Draken, by the way. The guy I was telling you about.” Mitsuya pauses briefly from his sewing to introduce the new person in the room. You immediately perk up at the familiar name. Well, that clears up a lot of things.

“Draken? The guy with the matching dragon tattoo?” You ask, eyes alight with intrigue. Draken snorts amusedly. 

“I see you've heard the story.” He turns his head so you can see the familiar dragon tattoo inked into the left side of his head, the exact mirror of Mitsuya's. Your mouth forms into a little ‘o’ at the sight of it. “This tattoo is mine, by the way. Paid for it and everything.”

Another snort, from Mitsuya this time. “Right, I'm sure you paid for it fair and square.” A smile dances on his lips as he continues sewing, eyes focused.

“Hey, who was the one who ate all my rice first?”

“Um, excuse me…” Your voice turns Draken's attention back to you. “If you don't mind, could I take a closer look at your tattoo?” You shyly ask the blonde male. 

His eyebrows raise at the bold request, and you hurriedly add on to your previous question. “It’s just that, I've seen Mitsuya's one before, but I couldn't really get a full view due to his hair covering most of it. It seemed really cool, so…”

The explanation seems to placate him, and he smiles reassuringly, the sight easing some of your nerves. “Yeah, go ahead, knock yourself out.” 

You brighten up at that, immediately moving your seat to Draken’s left and wasting no time in studying every detail of the tattoo.

“Woahh…it’s so different seeing it in its entirety! It really is beautiful…”

“Heh, right? I thought it would’ve been such a shame, leaving such a cool design to stay hidden in some dingy alley, so getting it as a tattoo was a no-brainer. Didn’t expect this guy over here to do the same, though.”

“Hahah, you really made the right decision. It fits you really well!”

“Yeah, and it fit with my name too, y’kno? Draken, dragon. Really helps with making a name for yourself.”

“Ooh, that’s a cool detail!”

As you ooh and aah over the inked dragon on Draken’s head, unconsciously shifting closer and closer to him, you don’t notice how Mitsuya pauses in his work, quietly staring at the two of you with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Have you seen the actual mural? It’s way bigger than this tattoo.”

“I haven’t, actually.”

“If you want, I can bring you sometime—”

“[name].” Mitsuya cuts in loudly, both your heads snapping towards him at the sound. He raises the repaired jacket in his hands with a smile that doesn’t really seem to reach his eyes. “The jacket’s done.”

“Oh!” You hop off the stool and gratefully accept the jacket as he walks over to hand it to you, lilac eyes never leaving your figure as you slip your arms through the sleeves, blissfully unaware. “Good as new! Thank you so, so much, Mitsuya.” 

His eyes soften at your sincere words, a warm smile naturally finding its way onto his face at your happy expression. “No problem at all, [name].”

“I’ll get going, then. I don’t wanna take up anymore of both of your lunch time.” you say, turning around to leave. You shoot Draken a wave as you walk past. “Bye, Draken! It was nice meeting you; maybe I’ll take you up on that offer to see the mural sometime.”

“You too, [name]. I’ll see you around.”

Mitsuya coughs lightly, and the sound prompts you to continue moving towards the exit. He follows closely behind you, reaching forward to open the door before you can.

“Thank you again, ‘tsuya.” You say once more, turning to him with a bashful grin. 

He huffs amusedly. “Like I said, it’s no problem at all. You can come to me anytime if you have any problems.” Your lips curl up even more at that, cheeks tinged with the slightest pink.

“Also,” He lets out another light cough, and you can’t help but take note of the way his ears are tinged red, how he suddenly seems to be avoiding your gaze. “You don’t…have to take Draken up on his offer.” he quietly says, words slowly turning into mumbles, the red from his ears slowly spreading to his cheeks. “I can bring you…if you want. And,” His face is fully red at this point, words so quiet you had to lean in to hear them. “if you want to look at the tattoo up close, you can just look at mine anytime…” he trails off, eyes looking anywhere but you.

You gape at him. This was something you definitely weren’t expecting. Despite your surprise, you can’t stop the giddy smile spreading across your face, giggling as you try to hold back your teasing. He’s already flustered enough; you suppose you’d spare him, just this once.

“Okay then.” You wave at him as you step out, eyes twinkling with mirth. “See you, ‘tsuya!”

Mitsuya watches your figure go until you disappear from his sight, sighing in relief and slight disbelief as he closes the door to the club. He hadn’t really planned on saying that, but the words just… slipped out. Something about the way you looked at him made them bubble up until he couldn’t contain them any longer. At least your reaction was positive.

He turns around, fully prepared to put the whole thing behind him, only to be greeted with a razor-sharp grin. Draken wiggles his eyebrows at him, looking like a cat that just caught its prey.  “So…someone got jealous, huh?”

Mitsuya lets out a suffering groan. “Please. Don’t tell anyone. You didn’t see anything.”

Draken cackles. “Maybe I’ll consider it if you buy me a karubi don.”

He’s so telling everyone. 

[melinoe-dearest09]

Helooo there, i would like to request a batfam x batsis fic in which she is the most recent addition to the family, and all of them are trying really hard to get her to warm up to them( having a game nights, going shopping, going to the arcade ex...) on one of these outings, they are stormed by the paparazzi, which in turn overwhelms her, and she gets a panic attack, then cue the protective big brothers who help her through it.

That's as far as I've thought on this. I hope it makes sense to you. ( You can change some of the details if you'd like) Have a nice day / night.

Of course! I didn't know how old you wanted her but I made her younger than Damian. (Damian is 14 here) Thanks for the request <3

The brothers always tried when they got a new sibling. They knew how hard it was to adjust to the Wayne style of life. But usually it didn't take very long. You were a special case.

Your bio parents were part of the nobility of Gotham. They went to all the parties and did all the rich people things. You didn't. In fact no one knew who you were until your parents died. They kept you locked up in your room and never really let you out of the house.

When your parents died (car crash) police went to the house to inform the staff. Instead they were met with a young girl who looked very malnourished and abused. The police took all normal steps after that. Taking you to the hospital and then trying to put you into foster care. Of course the news found out and plastered it everywhere. "Tragic death of the L/N result in finding of secret Daughter". Of course the news station was missing some of the important information like you wellbeing but this was enough to catch Bruce's eye. After he found out how you where treated though? The adoption papers where already signed. You were now a Wayne.

As of now you had been at the Manor for a month. The boys were trying really hard to get you to warm up to them. Dick had taken you shopping multiple times, Tim tried helping you with your school work (especially since you hadn't ever gone to school), and Jason took you to the Arcade. Even Damian was trying! He would try to get you to paint with him or go out with him and Jon. But you weren't responding to any of them. You mostly stayed in your room or stuck around Alfred. Heck you hadn't even said a word to them. They were starting to get desperate.

"Damian" Bruce called. "Can you got get Y/n from her room. Dick is taking all of you shopping for the upcoming gala."

Damian rolled his eyes at the mention of the gala but complied "Yes father."

When you were all ready you headed out. Dick thought it would be a good idea to shop for the gala then go catch lunch or see a movie.

"I'm not even gonna show up to this stupid thing anyway. So the hell do I have to be here?" Jason complained.

"We hare having sibling bonding time. And this is going to be Y/n's first gala! So we all have to make sure she looks super pretty! Like a little princess!" Dick said happily.

At the mention, Jason looked over to you nervously "You sure it's a good idea for the kid to go to a gala? She hasn't even talked to us. How's she gonna talk to other people?" He asked. He looked back over to were you stood. Tim was on one side trying to talk to you while Damian stood on the other looking at suits. You were just staring at Tim and occasionally nodding. "See. She's not even talkin to Tim and he spends the most time with her. Not to mention the brat is closer in age to her and she hasn't said a word to him either." Jason pointed out.

Dick decided to ignore this "What about this Suit."

"Too Flashy disco Dave. But seriously-"

"Jason she be fiiine." Dick says quickly. Jason didn't believe thus for one second but he was tired of arguing with Dick. So he let it rest.

Later after they had all found a suitable outfit you all went to grab lunch. "Y/n is there any place you want to go to?" Tim asks. You shrug. All the boys sigh hoping you would answer.

"Brothers. We might have a slight problem." Damian says. They look to where he is pointing and all think the same thing. 'Shit'. Paparazzi start to flood them from all sides. They all start yelling questions and taking pictures. They boys try and move around you so you aren't seen but it's to late. Suddenly you are pulled from the boys and the crowd closes in on you. The question become louder the, flashes from cameras brighter, and you stand there in the middle helpless. You've never experienced this before and very fast it becomes too much. You feel you chest become tighter and your breathing become faster but it feels like you aren't getting any air in your lungs.

They boys are frantically trying to get through the crowd but they are also getting bombarded with questions. Finally Damian breaks through to you and sees you staring at the ground clutching your chest. "Y/n..." he slowly approaches you lowering his voice. You look up at him tears filling your eyes as you gasp for air. "Hey hey hey it's okay don't worry I'm here. The others are coming...it's okay." He turns to look for the others and sees Jason break through the crowd. He takes one look at you and starts trying to clear a path. The others see this and try to help. Damian scoops you up and starts to carry you through this makeshift path. Then quickly runs for the nearest store. He sets you down then starts to calm you down.

"Hey Y/n look at me...follow my breathing okay...in....and out...in....and out" Damian says calmly. You listen to what he says and start to calm down. The other boys come in and stand around making sure no one can see you. When you start to breath normally again Jason asks "You feelin better kid?" You look up at him "Y-yeah..." They look shocked for a second then smile. "That's good little sis." Jason responds. Tim moves to your other side. "How about we go home? Alfred can make us some food? That okay?" You nod "Can he make mac n cheese?"

"Yeah sis. You can have mac n cheese."

[pennyblossom-meta]

Analysis of the romance in Death Note's Spiraling Trap game.

EDIT 02/03/2024: minor edits and fixes, added a few imgs and extra content.

A huge thank you to the folks over at agtteam who translated L - the ProLogue to Death Note: Spiraling Trap into English! Now we can all date L become FBI agents after hours.

I've been playing the game recently and one of the features I love the most is the L Communicator, which allows the main character (referred to as MC henceforth) to take a break from adventuring and listen to L talk about whatever is on his mind.

There's around one hundred different lines available as the MC develops a relationship with L and they paint him as such a sweet, attentive and thoroughly unique individual that I was surprised by how detailed it was. If you're thinking about playing, then this part is definitely worth putting effort into.

The mechanics of the dating sim are relatively simple: during the adventure, you'll pick up a number of recipes hidden among traps and tools. Then, Watari will provide the ingredients and you can give L whatever sweets he specifically craves. These recipes and cravings depend on the time of day and can be season specific.

Character analysis

As stated in-game, giving L sweets causes his appreciation for the MC to grow. However, L being L, means that he craves different sweets throughout the day. He's definitely very specific about what he likes and what he wants for his sugar fix.

However, if you give L something he isn't craving at that specific moment, he will sulk. The way he expresses his displeasure varies according to the depth of the budding relationship he has with the MC.

L: To tell you the truth, there are many other things I would have preferred. L: [F/N], I hate to say this, but I really would have preferred something else. L: F/N], you must know that I was hoping for something else, right? L: [F/N]… It’s not my favorite but, it made me really happy.

Note: Given that the books in the expanded universe (Another Note and L: Change the WorLd) came out before this game, I think some of the quotes further ahead might be a subtle nod to how L is perceived by the police forces as the "creepy murder detective". However, references about his piece of mind lead me to believe that L craves some respite from the burdens he carries on his shoulders — burdens so strong that they managed to curve his spine.

Note: I'm unsure how the system here works, as the MC also gets points for gaining L's trust in the actual adventure when they a) agree with his observations and b) find key objects hidden in unsuspecting places. It might affect the available lines through the L Communicator.

L: Today is going to be a better day… Let’s think positive. L: I wonder what kind of morning this will be. L: It seems the air outside is crisp this morning.

L: I want to finish what I need to get done before night falls. L: It’s nearly sunset. Time for children to go back home. L: If you just stare into space, night will be here before you know it.

L: It’s already evening… Time keeps passing me by. L: There’s something different about the air at night. L: Night-time, dusk… It’s the witching hour.

As a naturally introspective individual, L observes the world around him and draws conclusions. To my surprise, the game actually managed to capture how observant L is about small, unsuspecting details of daily life and give him a slightly poetic side laced with a hint of wistfulness that suits his character well.

This is a side of L in his private life that I personally wish we had been able to glimpse during the Kira investigation. Though, at the time, L was busy trying to prove that Light was, indeed, Kira. It left him little to no time to enjoy the world around him. During the brief time that L could have had a semblance of rest right before the Yotsuba arc, he was depressed that his deductions were "wrong" — though I could see him musing about some of the above, equal parts whimsy and sulking.

L: If I start to lose my touch… I guess I’ll retire. L: Another day, another mystery… L: I have a lot of thinking to do. L: I feel like doing some capoeira… L: I haven't played tennis for a while. L: The weather today is… Well, it matters not. L: I, um… No, ignore me. L: Am I reading too much into it…?

As a thinker, L has a lot of unfinished thoughts he says out loud. Some border on cliché, others are musings about things he'd like to do or that he's missing.

I wonder if some of his thoughts end up trailing off because, suddenly, he catches himself and believes they're not important? Or that he doesn't think the MC would be interested in what he has to say beyond work matters?

L: “In spring one sleeps a sleep that knows no dawn.” Though, too much sleep isn’t good for anyone. L: If you think about things persistently, noticing all the sides to them will come naturally. L: Strawberries… Despite the name, they aren’t actually berries. How berry disappointing. L: The one who has thought it through wins. It’s true for chess, and for deduction. But in the case of love… I don't know.

He's also a philosopher at heart, always thinking about the human condition. In these we can also witness his dry humour, silly puns along with a subtle desire to share his thoughts on the world and give helpful advice.

As for love, L is cautious but willing to learn. It's a topic where he's out of his depth.

L: Um, Watari is… L: I wonder if Watari’s asleep? L: What could Watari be up to? L: Today is Thanksgiving Day. I am truly grateful to Watari for his diligence.

I found it interesting how L's thoughts eventually go back to Watari and what he's doing. He's the one person that L relies on and whom he interacts with the most. Other people are passing acquaintances at best, who show little interest in L beyond work.

Notice how he mentions diligence? Although it is a utilitarian consideration, it also reveals a thankfulness for the comforts of familiarity and the peace of mind that trusting someone close brings. This is a topic we'll explore better at a later stage, i.e., how trust and acts of service work as a relationship builder.

Romance

Neutral stage

One of the first things I've noticed is that, during the early stages of the relationship, L is still very formal and quite a bit dismissive — even borderline rude. As his sugar fix gets sated by the MC's keen suggestions (Watari provides the ingredients, of course), L grows gradually more fond of them and wants to include the MC in his life with an enthusiasm I can only define as endearing.

L: Aren’t you bored? You don’t have to check in on me. L: Don’t you have stuff to do?

At the beginning, L is still wary of the MC on a personal level as they have absolutely no rapport beyond a partnership of circumstance and usefulness in the name of justice. He's quick to get bored and doesn't take it very well when he's given sweets he isn't craving. A bit childish, one could say, the way he sulks when the MC errs by not reading his mind.

L: Did I enjoy it? Let me just say “no comment”. (about sweets that weren't quite to his taste)

It's also very in-character for L to feel both annoyed at someone who is randomly calling him and be suspicious of their motives.

Growing interest

L: Spending the afternoon with you isn’t so bad. L: Even though it’s late, you’re not going to bed, huh? L: You must be a night owl, [F/N]. L: I’m a little curious about you, [F/N]. L: Are you having a good time? I’m just curious. L: You’re kind of… Ah, no, forget I said anything.

He starts addressing the MC by their first name as he becomes more enamoured. It's very sweet. I was pleasantly surprised at how attentive L becomes as he gradually comes to the conclusion that this is a person who understands him.

Mind, due to game mechanics the MC gains approval by giving L sweets, but from a narrative perspective what's really happening is that L not only feels seen and understood, but also accepted. And when that happens, he starts lowering his walls and relaxing.

As a plot device, I would say these are defining moments within L's thought process here; he's curious about the MC, finds them interesting enough to want to know more them and pursues that curiosity to see what they might have in common. It seems he's both a little baffled and content about this development.

L: [F/N], what do you think of when you see a sunset? L: What are you doing this afternoon? Oh, should I not have asked? L: Are you a night owl? Oh, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want.

It should also be noted that L is very mindful of boundaries. There's a tentative, almost shy attempt to connect. He's determined to indulge in his curiosity since the MC's attentiveness towards him shows an opening for closeness he's unused to (but is happy about) and to tend to his more immediate needs (i.e., food cravings), which in turn shows a genuine concern for him. Aside from Watari, I doubt anyone ever extended L similar kindness.

And it is in this determination to get to know the MC that I also find Mello's words (AA: LABB Murder Cases) that L is actually a very active, aggressive individual with absolutely no interest in social conventions perfectly represent him this game, as he navigates a growing fondness with expectation, curiosity and caution — on his own terms, while minding that he doesn't overstep.

L: Staying up late talking to you… It makes me feel calm.

I find it particularly heartbreaking how this confession of L unknowingly makes it more transparent how burdened he is. The spine curved by burdens unseen, the addiction to mind games and sweets; all of these point to stress factors which isolate him further, increasing the loneliness and lack of affection in his life.

That L feels the need to mention the MC makes him feel calm seems telling.

L: We’re both late workers, huh? That makes me happy. L: [F/N]… You’re pretty formidable. L: It’s reassuring to have a partner like you. You’re someone I can trust. L: Your feelings have been received. (Valentine's Day) L: The fact we’ve become so close was an unexpected development on my part.

And here it is, the acknowledgement just as L enters the highest stages of approval, where he expresses admiration and happiness at the close bond he developed with the MC.

"An unexpected development on my part" is quite the turn of phrase. One can only wonder, but I'd make an educated guess that L didn't see this coming because:

a) no one showed feelings towards him before. In his line of work, hidden behind a screen there is no time to indulge or get attached to anyone (he would mistrust their intentions anyway) and so L keeps everyone at arms length, sharing little more than a professional side of himself and fostering utilitarian relationships that help him win "games". L ultimately carries various burdens the average civilian would never be able to understand, all due to the pressure of his job. When failing at the "game of cat and mouse" means being responsible for the likely deaths of dozens, perhaps even hundreds or thousands, the stakes are up in unimaginable ways. What started as a thrill chase can have catastrophic consequences should L fail. That in itself alienates him from society at large. It's a game that L plays well and absolutely profits from, but it is also an indicative of two major flaws: his addictive personality and how he suppresses his emotions to carry on. Coincidentally, it's the expanded universe, in particular Another Note: LA BB Murder Case and L: Change the WorLd, that give us the best insight into this. This isn't too dissimilar to the struggles policemen face in high risk jobs or technicians who have to flag and delete sensitive content from online platforms. These people end up changed from what they see — and some carry traumas for the rest of their lives. That's not to say that L doesn't feel for others. He respects people whom he considers good or morally upstanding (Soichiro Yagami), who are competent in their line of work (Naomi Misora, Mogi), worthy of a second chance (Aiber and Wedy), who speak their minds, unafraid (Aizawa) or who are reliable, loyal to him as a person and not just his cause, in whom he can place his trust and feel secure won't betray him (Watari). The MC seems to fall mostly in the last category, though the relationship is rather precocious — and there seems to be a fair amount of wishful thinking and even projecting on L's part, since communication happens over a device connecting two people remotely. He falls both for the idea of the individual and their attentiveness towards him. When L mentions that they make him feel calm, I'd argue it comes both as a surprise to him and a confession of a closeness and safety he intimately craved — though I personally view L as someone who feels lonely and wanting healthy human contact, even if his social skills might not be the best (worsened by his distrust of people as a whole). Someone who ultimately is willing to adapt to him but whom he can adapt to, as well. Someone who sees him as a person and not an unfeeling robot. It's a POV that certainly challenges certain aspects of DN: Vol 13. I would further argue that L's portrayal has evolved significantly beyond the manga, and that his subsequent humanising is partially a result of the creative liberties the English translations took, as well as a more empathetic view of the character and hidden struggles. Each medium displays a separate iteration of L, with common variables.

b) L fosters distant relationships with others as a safety measure. Aside from Watari, L's contact with other people had always been distant, work-focused, perhaps even tainted by notions of his supposed creepiness as a kinky detective "who relished bizarre murders" (L:CtW). He's useful to the police because he achieves favourable results, though L is still viewed as "a human computer, capable only of measuring mass murders in terms of cold numbers, a reclusive sociopath" (L:CtW). He isn't necessarily liked; in fact, I would argue he rubs people the wrong way most of the time — as we can see during his interactions with the Task Force, during the events of Death Note. L is tolerated, a useful asset who is both mysterious and a pain to deal with. However, he's also put on a pedestal due to his status (i.e., Relight, the children at Wammy's). For the latter, he purposely shatters their idea of L as this unbeatable, paragon of justice by defining himself as a monster (anime), a dishonest cheating human being who hates losing (manga). I do share in lux-mea-lex's perspective on L doubting his own humanity and how it fuels a certain self-hatred for distrusting everyone around him. As lux mentions, "love comes with trust" and L is an excellent detective precisely because he questions everything and everyone — but it comes at a cost: his own loneliness. To draw a parallel, L's ultimate flaw — and that which makes him great at his job — is not unlike what we see during the moments of extreme anguish that Veronica Mars goes through in her personal relationships and which draw people away from her when she oversteps boundaries to prove she's not being lied to. That mistrust comes from experience, for people burdened with having seen too much and it's not unlike a kind of paranoia acquired when one has to deal with the worst of humanity on a daily basis.

Full reciprocity

L: [F/N] you’re the light that illuminates the dark night. That’s an exaggeration of course, but… L: What I need to live is glucose… and to talk to you. Nourishment for my brain and heart. L: When we’re together, I feel like there’s no problem we can’t solve. L: The afternoons I get to spend with you are precious to me.

When the MC achieves the stage of full reciprocity with L, he's very open to showing vulnerability and lowering his emotional defenses. I found this to be particularly sweet, as L is such a secretive man with so many hidden layers that him being willing to show such honesty with that one person he holds dear is incredible character development.

Beyond the game, I would say that achieving this stage with L would be much more difficult and, naturally, would involve going beyond picking the best sweets for him.

Something important to keep in mind is that L seems to value acts of service, as the people who interact with him more closely have some utility value and aid his work. However, L's life revolves around his work; he lives and breathes his detective work, which is why having a partner who brings him peace would be so important.

L: The time I spend with you is as important to me as the sweets. L: Good morning. It makes me really happy to see you here. L: For your sake… I’d think of a way to get through anything. We share a bond. L: When you have time, I’d like to take you to a shop that makes the best sweets. L: When you’re free, how about we play tennis together? I will have Watari reserve a court. L: If something were to happen to me… I want you, as the person I hold dearest, to carry on the L moniker. L: When my thoughts hit a dead end late at night, I feel like I’m stuck in a maze. But, having you here makes me feel reassured.

I also found it very sweet how L takes the initiative to plan for activities to do together with the MC. And how their presence, their reassuring words make him feel at ease. It seems that a loving relationship would give L a goal in life beyond his work.

Carrying on the L moniker... this quote might be the result of L's trust in the MC growing during the events of the game, or a sentiment L nurtures due to the MC being attentive enough to understand his specific cravings. But being able to read L and having the mental dexterity to become him are different things, as the latter involves a lifestyle that few would want and a complete focus on work. Even FBI agents have lives beyond work.

L: I learned from you that sweets are the bond that brings people together. L: You give me true peace of mind. No one could ever replace you. L: The way I am now, I… I can’t think straight when you’re not around. L: Being able to share this sunset with you, I couldn’t ask for anything more. L: You understand, don’t you [F/N]? What my heart so strongly desires is something more… L: When I talk to you, I feel like my senses are sharpened. Thanks to that, my radar has become more sensitive.

What a sweet guy. I love how L focuses on the little things and just wants to spend time together with the person he holds dearest. It's almost as if he daydreams a close, loving relationship — a trait that clashes with L's logical side.

This game and the expanded universe of Death Note have convinced me that there are many more layers to L than what we can see in the main story.

As Fu Takahashi, who plays L in the 2020 Japanese version of the musical, said:

“(...) A common thing about L among these versions is that, despite his superficial image as a smart guy who hates losing, he actually feels lonely and needs affection, I imagine. Perhaps he is an orphan – his character suggests so. He tries to control his emotions, like the feelings towards his parents, or romantic feelings; that’s why he is sort of dependent on games or battles of the mind. So I want to play L while thinking about the foundations on which his personality has been formed.”

I think this quote and the game are actually very telling of L's core personality and how it moves beyond that cold, calculating persona that defines him in the manga. It's also more in line with the characterisation that we see in the anime and the books, which help humanise L.

As I mentioned elsewhere, learning how to trust and be comfortable around someone else would do L wonders. Though that person would have to accept him for who he is and help him learn how to navigate a healthy relationship.

Perhaps the true test of love, for L, would even be for him to be confronted with someone who knows who he really is and, is not only kind to him, but also sees the best in him — regardless of his flaws. I think that we've had a glimpse of it in this game and it's a breath of fresh air.

[gh0st-t0wn3]

I finally had time to make proper designs for the Trio!

Redson: Ver 1

Ver 2

I couldn't decide on if I liked it better with the braids or not so I just posted both, but anyways!

I gotta admit, I used to not like the idea of redson having Bull features (except for a small pair of horn maybe) but the concept really grew on me and now I really love it and wanted to try making my own design and I'm really proud with how it turned out.

I would've added more scars, since Guanyins throne pierced his entire body, but there came a point where it just looked like there was too much going on so I had to get rid of a few scars to tone it down, so we're just gonna say they faded over time, okay? Okay.

I also made him Miao (one of the largest ethnic minorities in southwest China) on PIF's side, and Mongolian on DBK's.

The Miao ethnicity of China has a long history, rich culture, and an ancient folk religion. Adorned in beautiful traditional clothes, possessing natural talent for singing and dancing, they live in uniquely designed indigenous architecture, which I think fits perfectly with how I imagined Princess Iron Fan and with her; Redson.

As for DBK being Mongolian, I saw someone else talking about this headcanon and I just liked it so I decided to use it, I don't really have a specific reason for it, I just thought it fit, not sure why though, it's just one of those things that makes sense even if you don't know why, you know?

Mei:

I made her taller and gave her a long dragon tail (like really long, it drags along the floor if she's not holding it up), though her scales are pretty much everywhere across her body they're most noticeable on her shoulders, thighs, and face (they're a bit hard to see in this photo because they're kinda hidden behind her hair, but I did give her scales beside her eyes)

I also gave her horns these little spiral designs around them, gave her sharper nails, and designed her ears to look like coral, since she's a water dragon and I thought they looked cool.

Honestly idk what else to say about her design, I didn't have anything specific in mind when designing her, I kinda just had to wing it, but I'm happy with how it turned out :)

(I also made her Bengali, on her dad's side, but it's not really important or has any reason behind it, just a headcanon I've had for a while, don't know where it came from though)

MK:

Alot of people have speculated that the monkey form we see during the fight against Azure in season 4 isn't MK's full form yet, that we're just seeing a fraction of what he's yet to become, based on the fact that while he has the weird side burns, the tail and the face marking, he also lacks a natural skin tone, they didn't give him a proper nose etc, so I wanted to play with the idea.

I decided to make him this strange mix between human and monkey, leaving him pretty much human with the addition of his tail(s), and weird li'l monkey feet.

(I was also gonna give MK more arm/leg hair, it was in my first sketch, but I forgot to add them when I was doing the line art and didn't realize until after I saved it as a jpeg, so that's my bad, but I'm gonna add it in to any other art I make)

It's also a bit hard to see in this, but I designed his staff with more details, specifically adding dragon-esque imagery to the Golden ends, this is because (for anyone who's new to the fandom/hasn't read JTTW) Wukong's staff was originally one of the several pillars that held up the sea in the dragon palace, until he stole it and shrunk it down to use as his weapon.

I also did MK's clones :)

Porty MK:

I gave him stripes of coloured hair and gave his tails all different colours, though I don't think he would actually dye it, instead I like to think that he would use that really crappy dollar store spray in hair dye (or hair chalk). I kept the fishnet clothes that I added in my originally design of him for my headcanons post, and decided to give him striped elbow length fingerless gloves.

I also gave him a cropped shirt, ripped shorts and these weird fingerless glove-esque shoes for convenience, since regular shows seem like they would be uncomfortable.

Edit: my dumbass forgot Porty's stupid print jacket 😭

Artist MK:

For Artist MK I gave him overalls and a jacket over it, which he wears specifically for when he's doing paintings so he doesn't ruin too many of his actual clothes (I know I said that this was inspod by Circusapple, which it still is, but this is almost exactly what I wear when I'm painting too, just in different colours).

I also gave him those gloves that digital artists wear so they're hands don't accidently trigger something on the screen because everyone knows that every artist just walks around with their art glove on even when it's not necessary.

Delivery MK:

I have to admit, I was never a big fan of MK's work uniform just being his regular clothes with a work jacket thrown over it so I wanted to try and make him look a little more professional and decided to instead give him a chef coat (similar to the one Pigsy wears on the show as well), with a logo for the restaurant on the chest, along with it I gave him plain black pants, since casual red jeans didn't seem very professional (I know he's just a delivery person, but if you were to look at pretty much any food corporation, even people who do deliveries have to wear uniform, so it's always been kinda strange to me that he's just in regular clothes). 

The shoes were harder to make professional given the whole "half-monkey" thing so I opted to give him the same strange fingerless glove-esque shoes for comfort and convenience, but made them plain black as well.

[descendant-of-truth]

Honestly? So much of Sonic Prime happens the way it does because Sonic is unabashedly, wholeheartedly neurodivergent, and I wanna talk about that in detail for several reasons

I think most people assume he has ADHD, and while I agree, I think they tend to leave it at "he's hyperactive and impulsive" when there's actually a lot more going on there.

For example, he lacks a filter. He says exactly what he's thinking, all the time, regardless of who's listening. I wouldn't be surprised if he does it as a type of vocal stim, considering that he talks to himself as much as he does to other people. Maybe he dislikes the way silence feels on his ears, too?

Something I noticed was that when Thorn gets on his case for this, asking if he ever stops talking, the way he says "eh, not really" sounds... almost resigned?

He could have easily said it in a more jokey way, but his tone (and the wide camera shot) gives me the impression that this isn't a trait of his that he feels especially positive about.

It's not cool or funny to him, at least not in this instance; it's just something he does, which further proves to me that it's more of an unconscious stim than anything else.

On the topic of the jungle world though, it also shows us a couple instances of him not being able to read others' intentions very well. Prim lies to him about knowing what the Prism shard is, and Thorn uses him to get to said shard - and despite how hostile they are, he takes both of them at their word.

He only realizes Thorn's intentions after she hits him across the clearing - not for the first time that day, mind you - and Sonic berates himself a little for not seeing this coming.

But it's not like this is the only time he has difficulty understanding intent; just look at his interactions with Shadow.

This is not the behavior of someone who understands why Shadow's picking a fight with him. He doesn't understand the implications of "you literally shook the world" because he doesn't know about the Weirder aspects of the explosion. In his mind, he just messed up a mountain.

Though I think his attitude implies another thing about his dynamic with Shadow that might explain why he was so quick to dismiss what he was talking about, which is. I don't think Sonic usually understands why they fight??

Shadow is a person of few words and Sonic has a hard time picking up on subtleties, that's a recipe for miscommunication already. And if Sonic's already predisposed to thinking that Shadow fights him Just Because, then of course he didn't take this particular instance seriously.

Though going back to "he only registered the physical effect of the explosion," Sonic is actually pretty consistent with understanding things that are tangible a lot better than anything else. Case in point: that One Palm Tree

His first reaction to seeing it presented as a gift is that it must be a trick. because he doesn't see the tangible point of the tree, and isn't enough of a symbolism guy to see the sentimental point of it, either.

Don't get me wrong, he is being insensitive here, but I don't think it's on purpose in any way. Look at his body language and expressions:

Even as he's getting on their case for being too sentimental, he's not unhappy or uncomfortable with them. He's just completely failing to recognize that this was supposed to be a big deal for them, so he's treating it way more casually than is appropriate.

Which is like. a classic social flub for neurodivergent folks

(Quick side note - this specific "huh" that he makes as Tails is flying away before Sonic realizes he's upset is a whole mood. I don't know how to explain it but this is Exactly what it feels like when you can sorta tell something's not clicking but you don't know what yet)

(Look at him. brain static)

I could go on with the detailed explanations but some of that would just be me repeating past posts I've made, so I'll leave it at "he is clearly not handling change well either" and link back to an example.

So anyway, this is what I meant when I said that so much of the show is impacted by Sonic being neurodivergent. It affects how we hear his thoughts as viewers, it affects his ability to understand and connect with his friends, it's why he dismisses Shadow, it's why he impulsively smashes the Paradox Prism, the list goes on.

And he's not stupid because of any of these traits, either. None of what I've described has to do with intelligence, but I've seen "Sonic is too dumb" as a reason to criticize the show, and that's just not what's happening here.

If anything, I'm actually really impressed with how well the writers have managed to portray a more nuanced take on what a character with ADHD would look like. Because he's not just being hyperactive and chatty, you can tell it affects how he perceives things too.

Which is a much bigger part of the overall experience, and it's really cool to see in a cartoon like this - and in the lovable main character, to boot! Who cherishes his friends despite his struggles to understand them! Why is it so good!

In conclusion Sonic is the ADHD king we both needed and deserved, thanks for coming to my TED talk

[bonefall]

i’m curious- can you explain, from prepping to actual processing and cooking and such, how the clans make sausage? is it really that easy?

SAUSAGES!!!

It's SO easy. The WHOLE process from prep to cooking is essentially 5 steps. Sausage is so old that it predates the historic record. The earliest record of it is from 4,000 BC-- but it's SO simple to make that it's almost a guarantee that any carnivorous society would learn how to make their own.

You don't even need fire. Most types of sausage are made by cooking the meat with heat or smoke, but you can get SALAMI through passive fermentation and air drying. Pepperoni is also in that same category of "dry sausage"! It was an invention of Italian American immigrants modifying sopressatta back in the 1920s.

Sausage is how you can use every last little scrap of meat on an animal, AND preserve it while you're at it. There's a ton of different types of sausages, but what binds them, literally, is that they're meat stuffed in digestive tract. ALL types of meat. The filling can be offal, muscle, or even blood, packed in with varying types of preservatives and spices.

(though in modern sausage production they use don't use natural cases as often, because it's more expensive than artificial collagen casing. that's actually how you can tell right away if you're at a quality pizza place or not-- if your pepperoni "cups" up after it's cooked, it's made with the real stuff. That's caused by the natural casing shrinking because of the heat.)

the TL;DR of making sausage is collect, scrape, soak, stuff, dry. Five simple steps. I am going to create an incredibly detailed walkthrough of it, every little tiny thing, from harvest to mealtime.

Minimum tools needed: a flat rock and a dark place, such as a cave.

Recommended tools: A flat rock, a bird bone with a stick, a cold underground den, fire.

It usually begins when an animal is brought back to camp, though it could even be started right in the field where prey is caught.;

CONTENT WARNING

This post contains discussions of evisceration and unsanitary topics in the context of natural butchery.

We're going to talk about disembowelment and processing animal organs into food. This includes how to open a carcass, and washing out the things that intestines usually contain. There is also an image of sausage casings at various stages of processing, including when it's still raw (but clean) intestine.

I was taught how to clean a deer carcass when I was only a teenager and I've never been squeamish, but everyone's tolerance for this sort of thing is different. It's okay if this isn't something you can handle; just know that the process of sausage making is easy, yet still a work of skill.

Appreciate the effort that goes into making your food! Just remember; there's a reason why they warn you about "finding out how the sausage is made!"

Step 1: Collecting the offal

You might think that because the prey that Clan cats hunt are so small, there would be some animals they can't make sausage from because of it. That's not the case! Bowels are naturally stretchy and will expand when stuffed; even a mouse can make for snack-sized sausages that a cat would enjoy.

(Remember; an entire mouse is approximately 1 meal for a single warrior.)

Removing the intestines is easy to do, requires no fire, and is necessary for avoiding parasites. Even a canon-compliant Clan can, and should, do this as part of their food processing. Canon treats claws like they're small knives and I do too because it's cool as hell, but if your Clan is more tool advanced, you could even allow them to use knives.

That gruesome phrase, "there's more than one way to skin a cat" is EXTREMELY accurate for ALL types of skinning. EVERY hunter and butcher you will meet will have their own method. Here's ONE way to do it, for right after the carcass has been bled dry and skinned;

It is helpful to hang the carcass by the legs, but not required. Especially for a large animal like a hare, this will make gravity your friend in getting the organs out. Clan cats have access to plenty of twine for this; brambles, willowbark, flax, etc.

Cut a "circle" around the anus first, under the tail. You want to keep the whole tract in one piece. If the intestines rupture, it might contaminate the rest of the ENTIRE carcass. This part you cut now will be the back end of the "tube" you're going to pull out.

From the bottom of the "circle," slit carefully down the belly until you hit the bone in the middle of the ribcage. This is tricky. If you go too deep, you'll cut the guts and spill waste everywhere. Don't go deep enough and you won't even get through the membrane. A good mentor would guide their apprentice's paw at this point, showing them how to carefully hook one layer deeper each time and how to angle the claw so they don't cut deeper than they mean to. (NOTE: the sternum is a lot shorter in most four-legged animals than it is in a human. The warrior's cut will be much further down the "chest" of the prey than you think.)

Now, the guts need to be cut from the back of the cavity. This is MESSY, but not tricky. This is the part where an impatient warrior would mess up, start yanking, and puncture the gut. If the animal is hanging, this is MUCH easier as the anus is still "anchored" to the pelvis like a big noodle.

Lastly, reach down and pull the throat up, then and take the whole tract out in one piece! In a very "large" animal like a muntjac or a hare, a more advanced Clan might tie off the colon with string before pulling it out, to avoid making a mess.

That's it! You now have the entire GI tract of an animal, including esophagus, stomach, large intestine, small intestine, and all the extra species-specific organs (like tripe or gizzards) they contain. An experienced butcher can do this whole process in less than a minute on a smaller animal-- and the small intestine of a mouse alone is over a foot long for making into sausages!

(In Clanmew, this "tract" is called a gwussip. It basically means "pile of slightly processed food." It's also used to refer to the dough used to make tunnelbuns in WindClan, and the minced meat that will be used to stuff the sausages later.)

Various types of sausage are made from the stomach down. Haggis is one type of sausage, for example, traditionally made of a sheep's stomach. The esophagus doesn't have the same "stretchiness" that the intestines are known for, and is more often made into a mince and sauteed if it isn't just wasted by being tossed.

BB!ThunderClan in particular likes to let it slow cook in fat and fruit sauce until it's more tender, but still delightfully chewy. It's not enough to fill a warrior up, but it makes a good snack for in between mealtimes. If you're familiar with Mexican cuisine, pig esophagus is prepared as "buche."

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

But, digressing,

Now that you have your intestines, it needs to be turned into casing.

Step 2: Scrape the inner membrane

Intestines are full of fecal matter. We all know this. Especially if you collected it correctly, it's going to be full of unwanted liquid when you first pull it out. Thankfully, it's just a tube and it can be washed.

These organs are made to contain everything icky inside of the gut, protecting the rest of body with its specialized buffer layers; the meat itself is perfectly fine.

The first thing a warrior needs to do is run it through a clean stream of running water, just like rinsing out a reusable straw. They'd be taking care to rub every fold clean, like a raccoon washing stockings in a river. Depending on the species the organ comes from, the culture of the Clan, and the condition of the animal before it was killed, some intestines might smell worse and need to be washed for longer than others.

BB!ShadowClan is different from other Clans in that they will flush it with a mix of vinegar and water to clean intestines. Especially since so much of their territory is stillwater, they're extra concerned with making sure their offal is cleaned. Other Clans find vinegar repulsive. ShadowClan finds other Clans dirty. Other Clans point out that they're the ones that eat literally anything. ShadowClan says they'd be able to stop wasting food if they spent less time whining and more time food processing. Cultural friction ensues.

After it's flushed, the cleaned intestine is turned inside-out. Just like a sock. From there, the inner layer of membrane is scraped off.

A long, flat rock is the best tool for this, or a good bone scraper. I've also heard of people doing this with a knife, so the rock is actually still technically optional for even the most thumbless Clans... but the cats can weave ropes out of grass canonically. They can use a rock.

(meanwhile in the background the bb!cats are playing instruments around a fire, absolutely ignoring canon's inconsistent tech level)

This is what it looks line at each stage of this process. Totally raw intestine looks like the image on the left. When turned inside-out, it resembles the middle. After scraping, it looks like the right.

Now there's just one more step before you officially have casing.

Step 3: Soaking in salt solution.

This is actually the hardest part for a Clan trying to be ecologically accurate. Salt is very rare in most forest environments. If your Clans are set up in a place with a natural salt source (near a beach, or near a geological deposit), you'll have no problems!

But... most Clans would, logically, not be so lucky and need to get creative.

The first option is stealing salt from farmers and hunters. Salt licks are usually left out in large, white blocks for sheep in fields, and deer in the woods. However, BB!Clan cats, except SkyClan, strongly avoid interacting with humans. That includes not approaching the salt licks left out for deer and livestock.

So, traditionally in the Forest Territory, they used the second option: Slowly burning the roots of coltsfoot. Dandelion also works, but will give you much less salt. In the Lake Territory, cats are sent on regular "Salt Patrols" to the ocean, bringing back bags of ocean salt from evaporated water for medicinal and culinary use.

Once that's done, simply toss the intestines in salt water for a few hours. That's it. You now have casing.

Step 4: Stuff the casing with mince.

Mince is just finely shredded meat, mixed with any spices your little kitty heart desires. Humans use a lot of herbal spices such as fennel, but as obligate carnivores, warriors prefer mushrooms which have compounds resembling the taste of meat.

The real secret to stuffing, though, is to make sure EVERYTHING is chilly before you do it. Cold mince is less sticky, keeps its shape better when being handled, and the fat is distributed more evenly in the mix. Sausages made during winter come out better than ones made during summer, for that reason.

Don't overstuff and try to keep it even. You can do it by paw, but it would be MUCH easier with a simple gadget. The earliest sausage stuffing tools we know of were as simple as a funnel and a plunger like this antique;

But since Clan cats are stuffing little animals, they can work with much smaller natural materials. The bones of birds are naturally hollow-- just clean one out, get a stick to push the meat through, and you're making tiny sausages.

And the last, but most important part,

Step 5: Dry it by way of heat and smoke (sausage) or fermentation and air drying (salami).

What you have in your paws before you start this process is, essentially, a little bag of raw meat. Most food preservation can be understood as the simple act of drying. Salt, fire, smoking, wind exposure-- those are all just fancy ways of removing moisture from food.

So generally, the more moisture the technique removes, the longer it will last.

"Fresh" sausages, your bratwurst, cheap hot dogs, bangers, the ones that are JUST made of mince and casing and you're not planning on doing anything else, those get cooked and eaten immediately. These types are actually pretty "recent" historically speaking, because it was a luxury to not be making sausages to store and transport meat.

So to make it last, they will usually be "cured." That means that the mince was mixed with salt before stuffing. Simple as that. Smoked cured sausage is self explanatory once you know what the terms mean-- it's been cured with salt, and then put in a smokehouse to dry.

(side note: curing is also required for smoking, else the conditions inside the sausage become the perfect breeding ground for botulism)

But the thing you're really waiting to hear about is "dry sausage." NO refrigeration required, NO fire needed at any point in the process. Salami specifically is cured, fermented in a dark and humid place, and then air-dried. This process takes only a few days if it's hot, and up to a week if it's cold. There are often starter cultures and sugars (fruits) added to the mince which reduces the "failure" rate, but this can work completely on its own.

Its taste will also vary depending on the cultures of bacteria doing the fermenting-- but that's unironically the kind of thing beyond the scope of this. That's culinary science.

This is where a dedicated "den" for hanging fermenting sausage would be handy. You can make do with a cave, but being able to completely control the environment can be the difference between having food in two days, versus having food in a week. You can even store it while it's fermenting for months if you can control the environment perfectly.

The last step is simply to take it out when it's at the absolutely perfect conditions and stop fermentation. If it ferments ALL the way, it will taste so sour it's inedible.

And that's it.

It's that simple. You hung it up in a cave for a while, and now you have shelf-stable meat that doesn't need to be refrigerated.

The catch; this works best in hotter, sunnier, southern environments, where the post-fermentation process is finished off with air drying. Drying is VERY GOOD because it totally removes the moisture. BB!Clans, in Northwestern England, prefer to finish this off with smoking unless they're doing it in summer and the weather cooperates.

Air drying is better because it typically removes more moisture and makes the sausage hard. Finishing fermentation with smoking causes it to be "semi-dry."

This far north, the days are cloudier, darker, and colder than it is further south, where the most famous dry sausages are made. It's not impossible to make fully dried sausage here, but it's a LOT more precise of an art.

If your Clans are based in the USA, don't worry about that. Dry fermentation is possible everywhere there except Alaska. Even if they're at the very tippy-top north of the continguous 48 states, they are barely higher in latitude than Paris, France. To put what BB's environment is in context, remember that you could walk a straight line across the globe from Liverpool, UK and be somewhere near Edmonton, Canada.

(in fact, dry fermentation can be done easily anywhere it isn't too dry or too cold. RIP Southern Chilean fanclans you will simply have to smoke it just like the Brits.)

And that's sausage. That is an in-depth guide to how salami can be made by Clan cats.