#but it's fun to develop them properly now ...

[kesoyotes]

I'm going to get caught up on TMayNT soon I promiseeeeeee ... but for now here's some oc stuff

[kavehayati]

I lowkey give up with Genshin entirely tbh

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

ACE CRIES IN HIS DREAM OHHHH THE DEVELOPMENT FOR ACE MY HEART HURTSSSSSS b4 ace would have deflected yuu going oh it was a joke when i said you can message me if you feel lonely and now b7 ace is actually being more honest going dont say that i'll feel bad MS RAVEN IM ALL OVER THE PLACE

AND NOT MOST OF THE BOYS' DREAMS REVOLVING AROUND THEM AND THEIR FAMILY/DORM MATES BUT ACE'S DREAM HERE IS LITERALLY ABOUT YUU??? U TRYNNA TELL ME SOMETHING??? OUGHHH MY HEART IS IN PAINNNNNN AND THE TANGLED EVENT COMING SOON THEYRE OVERFEEDING MEEEEEEE

[Referencing the JP Feb 2025 schedule; you can read my thoughts on book 7 chapter 12 part 2 here!]

I wasn’t expecting Ace to get a unique crying expression but here we are 😂 Pretty proud of myself for calling that Ace’s dream would address these oddly dismissive comments from back in 7-17:

It’s so Ace of him to be blunt when calling others out but also having trouble being honest about his own feelings. Those lines in 7-17 definitely read as deflecting and being in denial to me. That’s just how Ace chooses to cope with his problems.

You can even see this same mentality carrying through into his new crying expression… See? He’s still trying to smile and laugh, even through his tears. (Your one true love, by the way, is coincidentally described by Ace in Ghost Marriage as being “someone you can laugh and cry with”!)

fbskwbuwnsma I find it really funny how people were theorizing that Malleus would OB over the threat of Yuu going home when he ended up OBing over the thought of losing Lilia… Then it turns out that Ace is the one centering Yuu in his foremost desires 😭 I mean, I know Ace made that long trek back to Sage’s Island back in book 4, but so did Deuce and Deuce didn’t dream of Yuu staying—only Ace did. This is most likely the result of Ace not properly processing his feelings in the waking world (because of his deflection and denial), despite deep down valuing his friendships with Yuu, Deuce, etc.

Come to think of it, it makes sense that Ace’s dream ended up taking place during summer vacation on the Stitch island… because Stitch talked about ohana—family, which means no one gets forgotten or left behind. Ace’s dream is to be able to move forward (ie the summer after the end of their first year)… with all of his friends and NRC family. That includes his Heartslabyul classmates (yes, even his tyrannical dorm leader that he always complains about) and his friends at Ramshackle.

I can see why this would feed the brain rot of Ace yumes www It really slots in with the “I-It’s not like I care about you or anything, idiot! (jk I care so much)” kind of trope. And his dream taking place on a remote island screams “stereotypical beach fanservice episode”. Bro just keeps slotting in sk well with all the classics… Wishing all Ace yumes fun with this update ^^

[wileys-russo]

(Ik it’s not a player but I love them) Solfresa “I could just take a tiny nap?”

oc x oc from my filling the void universe and @girlgenius1111 family line series

world class II fresa putellas + solstråle engen

"sol, no mi amor you cannot sleep now." fresa returned to the bedroom and noticed the norweigan starting to drift off, shaking her ankle as she groaned and opened her eyes.

"why?" the brunette sighed deeply, rubbing her face and crossing her arms over her chest with a small scowl, fresa pausing the nature documentary her girlfriend had been falling asleep to.

"the point of the schedule is to train your sleep pattern so you are well rested at all times, so you are fit to work once you start nights. which means no naps and only sleeping at the times you are supposed to mi amor." the younger girl smiled sympathetically as the norweigan groaned louder.

it had been a long grueling process for the tattooed firefighter to become qualified as so, one that the spaniard currently shaking her awake had not always been supportive of.

solstråle had failed fitness testing twice, both her sister and girlfriend trying to talk her into what they deemed a much less dangerous career path.

but solstråle had never wavered, only spending more hours in the gym and less time talking to those who she didn't think were helping her along the way.

so with a wall of silence in response to the pushback, and the lack of belief only driving solstråle harder into her training and to start developing some unhealthier habits, fresa and ingrid changed tune.

both had come around to helping solstråle instead of wasting time trying to change her mind, but the help wasn't without constant reminders that she needed to be at her most prepared as to avoid any sort of injury while on the job.

so now with fitness testing complete and all of her training finally starting to feel as if it was paying off, the girl was set to swap over from shadow shifts to a real roster, which included staying two nights a week at the station on call.

"fres, baby i could just take a tiny nap? then i will still sleep early on time tonight!" solstråle tried to bargain, pinching her thumb and pointer finger together to make a minuscule gap as fresa firmly shook her head. "not part of the plan amor." fresa smiled in amusement at the girls persistence, gesturing for her to sit up.

"you are no fun today putellas. first you have to study and i have to sit here alone to watch my show because i 'distract you'. now you come back and i am tired but you will not let me sleep?" solstråle huffed with a deepened scowl as the younger girl shook your head.

"you might not think i am fun engen, but is it fun cleaning the big trucks all day because your sister or your chief hears you are too tired to be cleared for the real work?" fresa warned lightly quirking an eyebrow and crossing her arms, solstråle's eyes widening a little in response.

"you wouldn't!" the norweigan sat up properly now with a scoff. "i would, if it meant you did not get hurt bebé." fresa promised softly, her girlfriend sighing and running a hand through her hair.

"snitches get stitches." solstråle mumbled grumpily, laying back down as her eyes began to once again feel heavy. "well you are great company today. go to sleep then, i do not care!" fresa rolled her eyes, knowing just how stubborn her girlfriend could be but not having the patience for it today, turning to leave as a hand quickly grabbed the back of her top.

"sorry! i'm just tired, and i missed you. i hate when you have exams and you have to ignore me." solstråle huffed, pulling fresa down onto the bed with her and trapping the shorter girl in between her arms and legs in a tight bear hug.

"i do not ignore you solstråle, i answered all your texts today amor, and there was a lot of them!" fresa laughed at the sudden switch in attitude from the girl, twisting her neck to sweetly peck her lips which were grumbling some sort of moody comment in norweigan.

"will you play fifa with me? i thought i was good but they have a tournament going at the station, and i haven't won a single game!" the brunette huffed, forever hotheaded and fiercely competitive as much as she could also be the softest sappy pile of mush at times too.

"do we have to? i do not have a clue how to play. in fact you and alexia told me no more playing because it was...what did you say? eh 'too hard to watch' remember?" fresa narrowed her eyes as a guilty smile curled into her girlfriends features.

one of the rare times her eldest sister actually spent any time with sol was playing fifa after a family dinner, granted that was silent bonding as alexia still refused to say more than a few words in response to solstråle's chatter.

"fresa that was ancient history, i am a much more patient woman now." solstråle grinned as the spaniard in her arms let out a loud sarcastic bark of laughter and tapped at her forearms to be let up.

"it was last week engen." fresa sat up and hovered over her girlfriend with a shake of her head, suddenly pulling back as sol tried to sit up and connect their mouths. "hey! give me a kiss." the norweigan demanded impatiently, tapping her puckered lips expectantly.

"no." fresa smiled sweetly, standing and heading out of the bedroom to make some food, not at all surprised at the sound of footsteps hurrying after her, her mami on an evening shift at work meaning the pair of them had the house to themselves for a couple more hours at least.

"solstråle!" the younger girl squealed as a body barrelled into her, almost taking her down to the floor before the well built norweigan grabbed her girlfriends hand, spinning and dipping fresa, holding her up just from falling to the floor as her heart raced.

"don't do that! its not funny." fresa hit at her girlfriends hoodie covered chest with a loud smack as she only laughed and the youngest putellas merely scowled.

trying to move past her before fresa could take another step a mouth was pressed against hers, feeling the firefighter to be smile into the kiss when fresa made no move to push her away

"you are a child sometimes. tonta!" fresa finally broke away and bonked her girlfriend on the head with a magazine that was handy within reach on the counter, only causing solstråle to smile wider, clearly proud of herself.

"food can wait, one game? it will help keep me awake." the norwegian tugged fresa gently away from the pantry with her best puppy dog eyes as fresa sighed.

"if you are turning down food, it must be serious." "please?" "fine. one game engen!"

~

"joder! how do you defend? i forget the controls!" fresa cursed in annoyance, only having had possession for about two seconds this entire half as her girlfriend knocked in goal after goal.

"solstråle!" she protested as the norweigan made her player do a backflip after another goal and cheered loudly in fresa's ear, kissing her cheek apologetically from where fresa lay between her legs, elbows resting on her knees and her back pressed to solstråles front.

"you said this would be easy." fresa complained as the game stopped for half time. "no, babe i said i would put the match settings on easy." her girlfriend corrected as fresa pinched her thigh unimpressed with the answer.

"amor you are winning 8-0 you can give me five fucking minutes to show the controls again?" fresa demanded before sol could click to resume play. "i like when you swear in english." her girlfriend mumbled, a lazy kiss pressed to her jaw as sol dropped her remote and her hands settled over fresa's.

"when you attack you click this to pass, this one to sprint. you click this one for a head pass or a short ball, and this to shoot." solstråle explained slowly, pointing out the different buttons as fresa nodded, eyebrows furrowed with concentration.

"when you defend it is this one to chase, this one to tackle, this one to slide tackle, this one to clear. then when it goes to your goalkeeper, just click this or this." the taller girl explained as again fresa nodded, doing her best to follow along but she'd already forgotten half of what was said, making a mental note to just button mash and hope.

"so does this mean you will let me have a pity goal mi vida?" fresa asked hopefully as the girl pressed behind her grabbed her own control and chuckled.

"not a chance elskling." sol stole a kiss and clicked play again before fresa could bite back with a remark, eyes widening as she hurried to rapidly click at any buttons she could reach on the controller much to her girlfriends amusement.

the second half fresa played a little better, but still failed to score and conceded another five goals making it so solstråle won with a whopping 13-0, the final whistle blowing meaning she let out a war cry of victory.

"eso fue humillante!" fresa scowled tossing the remote to the side onto the lounge and rolling her eyes, arms crossed and shoulders slumped.

"that is life no? you win some, you lose some. i feel a lot better about my games at the station now! thank you baby." the norweigans large hands settled either side of fresas face and tilted her head back so she could press kisses across the flushed skin.

"you are welcome." fresa rolled your eyes, gently tugging her hands away and sitting up, glancing to the screen only for a moment as her head snapped back to it and she frowned.

"world class? you said you put it on beginner sol!" fresa turned to glare at her girlfriend who shrugged, quickly turning off the tv and sitting up on her knees.

"did i? guess i must have clicked the wrong one babe, sorry." the norweigan grinned, pushing the shorter girl to lay down again as her smug face hovered over her girlfriends, not an ounce of remorse in her eyes.

"mentirosa! i cannot believe i like you." fresa grumbled with a scowl, solstråle pressing her face into her neck, lips scattering kisses across the warm skin.

"only like?" the norweigan whispered teasingly, tugging on fresa's earlobe with her teeth as her fingers danced across bare skin where her shirt had rode up.

"barely tolerate." fresa mumbled but all of the fire had dissapeared from her tone making solstråle smile against her neck.

"oh now what happened to love?" "maybe if you were not a dirty tramposa, you might get some engen."

[zeravmeta]

iruma kun is such a fascinating story to me because for a series that's 90% a comedy slice of life school days growing up story with a fun flair of it being a Demon School!!! it's also a story you cant see the same way again once you realize it's an unstable postwar narrative where all the adults are adjusting to a less bloody norm and doing their best to provide stable conditions for all the child characters and dealing with the fallouts of said unstable conditions. every adult in iruma kun references the ranking system and the netherworlds current peaceful state as recent developments meanwhile the demon worlds brutal struggle for survival and various famous wars are constantly referenced as present almost exclusively by adult characters while the kids only have passing knowledge of these customs. kalego gaiden showing babyls as an unstable school where violence and disorder reign supreme when he was a 14 years old kid and now as an orderly and respectable school when he's in his mid 30s is such a genius microcosm of this because another major theme of iruma kun is the importance of education. as selfish and brutal and cruel as demons in the netherworld supposedly are there is still a reverence in teaching the youth and properly raising them so that the world they inherit isn't something terrible

it's also telling that one of the 'main' antagonists baal wants an unstable chaotic netherworld where all demons have returned to their evil origins but still values education and greed as a source of growth and specifically targeted babyls because he KNOWS it's a pillar of stability while narnia and demon border patrol specifically enforce the rank system to keep demons in line and maintain a slowly crumbling status quo of demons being subservient to higher ranks and limits the opportunities of races like the many ears to educate and develop themselves so that they remain subservient

the focus on education as a stabilizing force in society is so fucking important to this mangas themes and this entire layer of it explored through a postwar narrative is barely mentioned anywhere within the story and only referenced in passing because the main characters are the misfits class, the kids! and while they will one day inherit and shoulder the world they were left, they are still kids who need time to grow

[p0orbaby]

act ii: date @ 8

summary: that’s what happens when you get it on in a multi-storey

warnings: SMUT 18+

a/n: a little something something to tide you guys over

word count: 1.3k

-

Strangely, Leah’s still in her kit, socks rolled down, Arsenal crest stretching across her thigh, and yet she still looks fucking good. Post-win adrenaline still buzzing under her skin, jaw clenched, hands twitchy, like scoring wasn’t enough. Like the energy still needs somewhere to go.

You. She needs you.

That’s why her hand is already between your thighs before the car door even properly shuts.

��We should get home,” you say, voice all weak, half-hearted, because you both know that’s not happening.

Leah smirks, fingers flexing against your thigh. “Nah.”

She tugs, you move, and suddenly you’re in her lap, back hitting the steering wheel, knees pressed into the cracked leather of her seat.

“You’re obsessed,” you mutter, just before she kisses you, open-mouthed and filthy, tongue brushing over yours like she’s been starving for this, starving for you.

It’s messy, rushed, teeth clicking together in your eagerness. Leah groans into your mouth as you roll your hips down against her, her hands gripping your waist, guiding you exactly where she wants you.

“Fuck,” she mutters, head tipping back against the seat.

You take the opportunity to press your mouth to her jaw, her throat. It’s an old trick, one that never fails, and sure enough, Leah lets out a sharp breath, her hands tightening around you.

“This is not fair,” she murmurs, but her hands are already pushing up under your top, fingertips dragging over your stomach, higher.

“You started it.”

“I’m finishing it, too.”

She says it like a promise, like a threat, and then her fingers slip into your shorts, and all you can do is gasp, clutch at her shoulders, bite your lip to keep from moaning too loudly.

It’s desperate, all of it. The way she’s touching you, the way you’re grinding down against her fingers, the way the car windows are already fogging up, condensation clinging to the glass, blocking out the world beyond.

Leah is muttering something against your skin, words you can’t make out, her breath hot, her fingers faster—

And then—

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Your brain doesn’t immediately register it. It’s Leah who stills first, head snapping towards the voice, the very familiar, very exasperated voice that is much, much too close.

“Oh, shit,” you whisper, heart sinking, stomach plummeting straight through the fucking floor.

You both turn your heads at the same time.

Lotte.

Standing right outside the car, eyes wide, looking like she’s just walked in on her parents going at it.

Behind her—oh, because of course—Katie McCabe, hands on her hips, eyebrows so far up her forehead they might never come down again.

You feel Leah’s hand move between your thighs, hastily retreating, and you think about maybe dying, right here in this car.

Lotte makes a sound like she’s been traumatised for life.

“I knew it,” Katie says, way too fucking delighted. “Told ya, Lotte. Told ya they’d be shagging in here.”

Lotte looks at her like she’s just been betrayed in a deeply personal way. “And you still made me check?!”

Katie shrugs. “Had to be sure.”

Leah groans, dragging a hand over her face, already slumping against the seat like this is physically paining her. “You two are actual weirdos.”

Katie grins. “Bit fucking rich coming from you.”

Lotte still hasn’t recovered. She’s rubbing her temples like she’s suddenly developed a migraine. “I can never look at you two the same way again.”

Leah glares at them both. “Okay, well, now that you’ve had your fun, you can leave.”

Katie just leans against the car, looking entirely too smug. “Dunno. Might stay a while. It’s kinda nice out.”

Lotte looks physically ill. “I hate you.”

Leah makes a strangled noise, already reaching for the door handle, but Katie’s quick, hopping backwards, hands up in surrender, still grinning.

“Alright, alright, we’re going.” She winks, throwing one last glance at Leah. “Try not to fog up the whole fucking car park, yeah?”

And with that, she drags Lotte away, their laughter ringing through the otherwise quiet garage.

The moment they’re gone, Leah groans, forehead dropping against your shoulder.

“This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You can’t stop laughing. You can still hear Katie and Lotte laughing somewhere in the distance, but Leah is seething, muttering expletives under her breath, forehead still pressed against your shoulder like she’s genuinely considering murder.

“They’re fucking dead,” she grumbles.

You’re still laughing. You can’t stop laughing, even as Leah pulls back, eyes burning with frustration, cheeks flushed red, hair a mess from your fingers.

“You think this is funny?” she asks, and fuck, she looks hot like this—pissed off, turned on, all adrenaline and leftover aggression from the match.

“Kinda,” you admit, biting your lip, your hips still very much straddling her lap, very much pressed against her, and when you shift even slightly, the way she hisses is enough to kill any amusement.

Her hands clamp down on your waist, holding you still, her breath ragged.

“I was fucking you,” she says, voice low, dangerous. “And they ruined it.”

You swallow. Hard.

Because she’s still looking at you like that. Like she needs you. Like she’s about two seconds away from saying fuck it and taking what she wants anyway, caught somewhere between frustration and feral.

You push at her chest, just enough to lean back slightly, your fingers dragging down the sweat-damp Arsenal jersey, over the embroidered badge, the ridges of her toned stomach underneath.

“We could still…” you start, teasing, but Leah’s already moving, already pushing the seat back as far as it’ll go, fingers gripping at your thighs.

“I’m gonna finish what you started,” she murmurs, dragging you closer again, her mouth hot against your jaw. “You’re gonna let me fuck you properly this time.”

It’s not a question.

Her hands slip under your top again, this time with more purpose, rougher, more desperate.

The first time was rushed, messy. This time, it’s something else.

Because now she’s pissed off. And she’s going to take it out on you.

She tugs at your shorts, pushes them down just enough, her fingers slipping past fabric, past heat, and fuck—she groans at how wet you are, her forehead pressing against yours, her lips parting in something close to disbelief.

“Jesus Christ.”

Her fingers drag over you, teasing, taunting, and you let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping at her shoulders, nails digging into the material of her jersey.

She doesn’t even bother being slow. She’s already worked up, already there, and she wastes no time pressing two fingers inside, stretching you open, swallowing your sharp little gasp with her mouth on yours.

The pace she sets is fast, unforgiving, her other hand gripping your hip, guiding your movements as you grind down against her.

She’s muttering things, half under her breath, between kisses, between ragged exhales—

“Wanted to do this all fucking day.”

“You feel so good.”

“Gonna make you come right here.”

And you can’t even answer, can’t even think, because she’s relentless, her fingers curling inside you just right, her thumb pressing against your clit, her mouth trailing down your neck, biting just enough to make you squirm.

The car windows are fogging up again, condensation clinging to the glass, and you think about how obvious it must look to anyone walking past, about how you should care—

But Leah groans, low in her throat, and you stop thinking about anything else.

Your body tenses, your breath catches, and Leah—fucking Leah—she knows, she feels it, her pace quickening, her grip tightening, her voice going all low and coaxing—

“That’s it, baby.”

“Come for me.”

And when you do, when you break apart above her, clenching around her fingers, gasping her name against her lips—

She doesn’t stop.

She doesn’t stop.

Because she’s still pissed off.

And she’s still not done with you yet.

[xjulixred45x]

Wahhhhhh

Your neglected child Yuu was so cute and now I can’t help thinking about the Vices

Trey probably dotes on them a lot. He might even see it as a way to redeem himself for being unable to help Riddle as a kid

Ruggie def has a soft spot for kids and you can fight me on that. Would probably be a great babysitter

Jade… what can I say about Jade. Idk actually

I can’t imagine Jamil would be as gung-ho about brainwashing a child but he’d also definitely want to use Crowley’s favoritism to his advantage

Rook would probably find child Yuu adorable. I can imagine him teaching them how to shoot a tiny little bow (no one knows how he got one)

Ortho and child Yuu bestie supremacy. That’s all I have to say. No it’s not. I imagine Ortho and Yuu would have this whole “discovering the world together dynamic” due to their separate circumstances but they’d also do it together

Lilia would see child Yuu and scoop them up before presenting them to Silver like “new sibling just dropped” especially if he felt they weren’t being properly cared for

Aww, this is so sweet.

Trey goes into dad/big brother mode as soon as he finds out there's a little kid at NRC without parents and, above all, with clear signs of being malnourished. Trey tries to balance giving Yuu lots of sweets and sugary things with healthier options so they doesn't end up with any additional health problems. They've also developed a great habit of cooking together! This way, Trey knows exactly what Yuu likes and dislikes, ensuring he won't have a problem if the kid is picky—we all have our tastes!

Whenever Yuu says something related to the way they was raised or about their parents, Trey can't help but get a strange feeling of nostalgia that makes him feel sick. He tries to keep Yuu from thinking about their parents most of the time, but above all, he tries to be as assertive as possible about the fact that what Yuu's parents did was WRONG, that they're a good kid, that they're not a burden, etc. Basically, he's trying to do what he should have done a long time ago.

Ruggie initially thought Yuu was a lost child, maybe a teacher's kid. He doesn't trust Crowley AT ALL to take care of Yuu, so every time he sees them (be it in the cafeteria or somewhere else), he tries to check on them in a lively way (asking them if they're okay, if they're eaten anything recently, if Crowley is watching them). Yuu likes to be around Ruggie to play; they thinks he's fun, and Ruggie takes it as a compliment.

Ruggie is used to children and can read them well, so he notices something is wrong with Yuu (and at first, he thought Crowley was the culprit). Ruggie tells Yuu that if an adult hurts them, they should go directly to him for help (Leona owes him one, after all). But he calms down and feels bad when Yuu explains about their parents. At least he assures Yuu that they won't have to see them again.

Jade is terrifying to Yuu; whenever he tries to interact with them, Yuu runs away like their life depends on it. Ironically, they're friendlier to Floyd (because he's much friendlier to little kids in general), and they tend to play a few games when Yuu has nothing to do and Floyd is bored (things like racing Yuu on Floyd's shoulders, Floyd grabbing Yuu by the arms and spinning them around, etc.).

Floyd doesn't really realize that Yuu has a troubled past until Jade points it out. When he does, however, he assures Yuu that if their parents (or anyone, really) try to hurt them again, he'll happily squeeze them :)

Jamil has mixed feelings about Yuu. On one hand, they're the sweetest kid around, but on the other, he uses Crowley's favoritism toward them whenever he can. This doesn't mean Jamil doesn't take care of Yuu, of course not. He makes sure they eat at least three times a day, get some exercise, and study. He's like a mother hen, and he worries A LOT when Yuu gets hurt or starts crying for any reason. He has a younger sister, so I like to think he's relatively good at comforting them.

Jamil doesn't really treat Yuu any differently after learning of their past, but he does make a point of not doing certain things that might remind them of their trauma, things like leaving them alone for too long, yelling at them, and raising his hands when angry (along with teaching Yuu that if they feels bad, whether physically or emotionally, to go to him or an adult). Above all, Jamil got used to Yuu feeling SAFE around him and made sure it stays that way.

Rook thinks Yuu is the cutest little thing ever, constantly lifting them up in the air like they're a stuffed animal and hugging them (if they complains to him he'll stop, but if not, he'll carry on as if Yuu were his personal teddy bear). The idea of him trying to teach Yuu how to shoot a tiny bow and arrow is hilarious (everyone is worried about two things: 1- Rook using himself to prop up Yuu's apples for a target shoot, and 2- WHERE THE HELL DID HE GET A BOW FOR SUCH A YOUNG KID?). Vil is going to have a heart attack because of them both.

Rook is a big brother; let's just say he has a sixth sense when Yuu is feeling particularly bad. During these times, Rook tends to act especially theatrical in an attempt to cheer them up, or he even tries to talk to Yuu about how they're feeling to see if he can do anything for them (Rook definitely joins Floyd and Ruggie's "I hate Yuu's biological parents" squad, but he's more silly and discreet about it).

I've already talked about Ortho and the first-years here.

Lilia formally knows Yuu as a friend of Malleus, but he thinks they're the cutest things in life. he's constantly on their tail, appearing out of nowhere (scaring Yuu in the process, though Lilia is good at calming them down with a lullaby), showing up at Ramshackle to make sure they have food and good living conditions, though eventually he just shows up one day, grabs Yuu and Grim like a sack of potatoes, and decides they'd have better living conditions in Diasomnia (partly to spite Crowley. The custody battle will be legendary).

Lilia does the typical things a father should do with his children: read them a bedtime story, tuck them in, pack them lunch for the day (he doesn't cook it, Silver or Sebek does), and is very likely one of the few adults Yuu ends up accidentally calling "dad" (Lilia will have to be restrained from doing an express adoption right there). Overall, the little kid has made its way into the old general's heart.

For this reason, he is very patient when it comes to comforting Yuu about their original "family." He usually soothes them with a lullaby and puts them to bed in Diasomnia, but not before going to "talk" to Crowley about it.

Let's just say Yuu has all of NRC in the palm of their little hand, but it's not something the students complain about.

________

(ESPAÑOL)

Awwwww esto es tan dulce

Trey activa el modo papá/hermano mayor en cuanto se entera que hay un niño pequeño en NRC sin padres y sobretodo, con claros signos de estar mal alimentado. Trey trata de equilibrar entre darle muchos dulces y cosas azucaradas a Yuu, y cosas más saludables para que no termine con algún problema de salud adicional. Tambien un gran habito que tomaron es de cocinar juntos! Así Trey sabe con exactitud qué cosas le gustan a Yuu y que cosas no, le asegura que no tiene problemas si el nene es quisquilloso ¡todos tenemos nuestros gustos!

Cada vez que Yuu dice algo relacionado a la forma en la que fue criado o con relación a sus padres, Trey no puede evitar tener un extraño sentimiento de nostalgia que lo deja sintiendo enfermo. Él trata de que Yuu no piense en sus padres la mayoría del tiempo, pero sobretodo, trata de ser lo más asertivo posible en que lo que los padres de Yuu hacían estaba MAL, que él es un buen niño, que no es una carga, etc. Básicamente trata de hacer lo que debió hace mucho tiempo.

Ruggie pensó al principio que Yuu era un niño perdido que talvez era el hijo de algún profesor, él realmente no confía PARA NADA en Crowley para cuidar de Yuu, por lo que cada vez que lo ve (ya sea en la cafetería o algún otro lugar) trata de checar que este bien de forma animada (preguntarle si está bien, si ha comido algo recientemente, si Crowley le esta cuidando). A Yuu le gusta estar cerca de Ruggie para jugar, cree que es divertido y Ruggie lo toma como un cumplido.

Ruggie esta acostumbrado a los niños y sabe leerlos bien, por lo que nota que algo malo pasa con Yuu (y al principio pensó que Crowley era el culpable), digamos que Ruggie le dice a Yuu que si un adulto le hace daño, que vaya directamente a él por ayuda (Leona le debe una después de todo), pero entre que se tranquiliza y se siente mal cuando Yuu le explica lo de sus padres. Al menos le asegura a Yuu que no tendrá que verlos de nuevo.

Jade es aterrador para Yuu, cada vez que el intenta interactuar con ellos, Yuu corre como si su vida dependiera de ello. Irónicamente es mas amigable con Floyd (porque el es mucho mas amigable con los niños pequeños en general), y tienden a jugar algunos juegos cuando Yuu no tiene nada que hacer y Floyd esta aburrido (cosas como carreras con Yuu en los hombros de Floyd, Floyd agarrando a Yuu de sus brazos y haciéndole girar a toda velocidad, etc).

Floyd realmente no se da cuenta de que Yuu tiene un pasado turbulento hasta que Jade se lo señala, cuando lo hace, sin embargo, le asegura a Yuu que si sus padres (o cualquier persona en realidad) intentan lastimarle otra vez, el felizmente los apretara 

Jamil tiene sentimientos encontrados con respecto a Yuu, por una parte, es el niño más dulce que hay, pero por otra parte usa el favoritismo de Crowley hacia ellos cada que puede. Esto no quiere decir que Jamil no cuide de Yuu, claro que no, él se asegura que coman mínimo 3 veces al día, hagan algo de ejercicio, estudien, es como una mamá gallina, y se preocupa MUCHO cuando Yuu se lastima o empieza a llorar por cualquier razón. Él tiene una hermana menor, me gusta pensar que es relativamente bueno en el confort.

Jamil realmente no trata diferente a Yuu tras saber su pasado, pero si tiene en cuenta de no hacer ciertas cosas que puedan recordarle su trauma, cosas como dejarle solo mucho tiempo, gritarle, alzar las manos estando enojado (junto a enseñarle a Yuu que si se siente mal, ya sea física o emocionalmente, vaya con el o algún adulto). Por encima de todo, Jamil se acostumbró a que Yuu se sienta SEGURO cerca de él y se asegurara de que se mantenga así.

Rook piensa que Yuu es la cosita más adorable que puede existir, constantemente lo esta levantando en el aire como si fuera un peluche y abrazándolo (el para si Yuu se queja, pero si no, el seguirá como si Yuu fuera su oso de felpa personal). La idea de que trate de enseñarle a Yuu a disparar un pequeño arco y flecha es súper graciosa (todos están preocupados sobre dos cosas: 1- que Rook se use a sí mismo para apoyar las manzanas de tiro al blanco para Yuu y 2- ¿DE DONDE DIABLOS SACO UN ARCO PARA UN NIÑO TAN JOVEN?). Vil va a tener un ataque cardiaco por culpa de los dos.

Rook es un hermano mayor, digamos que tiene un sexto sentido cuando Yuu se siente especialmente mal. Para esos momentos, Rook suele actuar especialmente teatral en un intento de animarle, o directamente trata de hablar de Yuu sobre cómo se siente para saber si puede hacer algo por ellos (definitivamente Rook se une a Floyd y Ruggie al Squad de “odio a los padres biológicos de Yuu” pero es más silly y discreto al respecto).

Ya hablé de Ortho y los de primer año aquí.

Lilia conoce formalmente a Yuu como un amigo de Malleus, pero cree que son la cosa mas tierna de la vida. Constantemente está detrás de ellos, apareciendo de la nada (asustando a Yuu en el proceso, aunque Lilia es bueno calmándole con una canción de cuna), apareciendo en Ramshackle para ver que tengan comida y buenas condiciones, aunque eventualmente el solo aparece un día, los agarra como un saco de papas a Yuu y Grim, y decide que tendrían mejores condiciones de vida en Diasomnia (y en parte para molestar a Crowley. La batalla por la custodia será legendaria).

Lilia hace las típicas cosas que debería hacer un padre con sus hijos con Yuu, leerles un cuento para dormir, arroparle, aprontarle un almuerzo para el dia (no lo cocina el, lo cocina Silver o Sebek), y es muy probable que sea uno de los pocos adultos que Yuu termina llamando “papá” por accidente (Lilia tendrá que ser contenido de hacer una adopción express ahí mismo). En general el nene ha hecho su camino en el corazón del viejo general.

Por lo mismo, es muy paciente cuando se trata de consolar a Yuu con respecto a su “familia” original. Suele calmarle con una canción de cuna y lo pone en su cama en Diasomnia, no sin antes ir a “hablar” con Crowley al respecto.

Digamos que Yuu tiene todo NRC en la palma de su pequeña mano, pero no es algo de lo que los estudiantes se quejen.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[rabotimagines]

"Pet names" GN! Bot Reader + Optimus, Jazz, Ironhide, the Lambo twins

Summary: Reader has become partial to using human pet names for everyone.

Warnings: none.

Genre/Theme: Platonic/with hints of crush

G1 characters included: Optimus, Jazz, Ironhide, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe

Notes: Cybertronian Reader, Reader written as around Ironhides age, so older in mind

Pronouns: You, your, yours, them, they

Optimus takes the energon cube you had offered him with an instinctive smile only he almost drops it when you open your mouth to say, "Cube for you, Sweetspark."

Optimus's plating ruffled up immediately, and he couldn't really stop his optics from burning a touch brighter. Jazz coughs into his servo, very unsuccessfully hiding his half laugh. "Thank- you." Optimus settles on because you're still waiting for a response. His vocilizor is a touch tight at the end due to the warmth of the sudden bashfulness in his own chassis. Optimus turns back to Jazz, who was grinning in obvious amusement. Optimus resets his vocilizor before asking Jazz to continue with the verbal review he was giving Optimus.

Optimus then realizes this was something you were now making a habit of when you give him a datapad and call him "Sugar." It eventually doesn't feel like his sparks going to jump out of its own volition, so Optimus allows himself to enjoy the casual affection. It was something delightfully domestic- an affection none of them had privy to after so many vorns at war. It's almost too much at times hearing the fondness in your tone and the delight in your optics. But it's something Optimus has needed for a very, very long time regardless of how raw it may make him feel at the same time.

Optimus will also endure it because watching Prowl or Ironhide struggle with it themselves was actually quite funny. Maybe Optimus will feel brave enough to return the affection back to you one day.

-

As soon as the habit develops, Jazz is for it and a hundred percent ready to join you in using human pet names. Jazz doesn't use them as freely as you do. He thinks it's more entertaining watching the autobots fluster from the side, them not knowing how to handle the little verbal affections. Jazz only tends to use them egregiously with you specifically. It turns into a fun little game between you and Jazz over who can use the most pet names before stumbling into the most embarrassing pet name.

"Heya Lover." You smiled catty at Jazz.

"Doll." Jazz pouted his bottom derma at you.

You quirked an optical ridge, smile still in place. "Hot stuff."

"Sugar lips." Jazz practically purrs, and you hold solid optical contact with on another. You break your gaze first and start laughing in earnest, causing Jazz to realize he'd definitely hit the absurd first with that one. "Yeah, because your derma look sweet?" He grins through his own explanation, watching you laugh.

You just vent finally and smile lazily. "Better luck next time, Romeo." You sing and push his pauldron playfully on your way out the door. Jazz let's himself watch you leave. The playful flirting definitely made Jazz's days feel a bit better. More normal than he'd really been allowed to actually be in vorns. The lightsparked interactions he was having with you were quickly becoming his favorite around the ark.

-

You almost kill Ironhide when he gives you your report he'd gotten from Prowl. "Thank you, Darling," Ironhides engine stalls at the phrase, and he has to slam his fist into his chassis to get it to keep going.

"Beg ya pardon?" Because surely he just heard you wrong. But you just look at him properly and smile all sly, and Ironhide already knows he had heard you correctly before you trace a digit down his windshield glass.

"Thank you, Darling." You repeat, and Ironhides optics burn a level higher than they should near immediately. He scoffs and bats your servo away, trying to ignore the cobalt that's more than probably staining his faceplate.

"Don't be saying slag like that." But slag was slag, and in the vorns Ironhide had known you, you'd always been a slagger. He realizes it's just what you do now when he sees you call Prowl "Pumpkin." Doesn't mean Ironhides gotta like it any. You know he doesn't appreciate it, but because you're a menace so you lay it on extra thick whenever you're talking to Ironhide. Ironhide wasn't a newbuild by a long shot, but the almost sickly sweet phrases are so foreign on Ironhides audials. At this point, he can't stop himself from getting flustered.

Stop that already! Hes too old to be called that! And your too old to be saying slag like that!

-

Sunstreaker is gonna kill you- he knows he can't actually because you're his superior. But frag if you call him "Sunshine" one more time- You offered to stop if Sunstreaker could beat you in a spar, which he agreed to. Which only led to Sunstreaker getting knocked on his aft several separate times. Which only succeeds in making him seethe even more whenever Sunshine comes rolling off your glossia.

His chassis had eventually started to warm whenever your derma curled when you called him it- and that only made him even angrier! Sunstreaker was a war frame! You teasingly calling him a pet name shouldn't do anything BUT annoy him! Sunstreaker was going to beat you in that spar, and he was going to get you to only call him by his actual designation

Sunstreaker knows it's the only way he'll get it to stop because you don't even listen to Ratchet when he tells you to stop using those ridiculous pet names. (But he also notices how Ratchets plating fluffed up like a preening seeker whenever you did call him anything but Ratchet.) The only solace Sunstreaker has is the fact that Sideswipes pet name is somehow even more ridiculous than his.

...

Sideswipe is aghast. Sideswipes baffled. And Sideswipe is disappointed. What the pit kind of a pet name is "Pookie"?! You'll call everybody by more than one pet name besides Sunstreaker and apparently also Sideswipe for some reason. You called Sideswipe "Babe" once and only once, and he's still trying to get his pet name switched to that over Pookie because seriously! Pookie?! You've called him Babe before! It's so easy you can do it again! Please do it again!

Sideswipe hated Pookie. He hated the little smirk that curled at your derma and the amusement in your optics less when you said it- Sideswipe really needed you to call him babe like you had. Your tone is low, barely teasing but very audibly fond. And that directed at Sideswipe? The one time had his engine purring automatically, and his processor wandered south where he knew it shouldn't have been in the first place.

He's watching Sunny get his tailpipe kicked in by you in a spar again, and he ends up asking if he can fight for better pet name rights, too. You laugh "Sure Pookie, you get next round. Step up." So Sideswipe fights for his honor of a better pet name. And Sideswipe gets his aft kicked worse than Sunny. As soon as Sideswipe hits the ground, Sunstreakers back up to try to take you down again.

His brother loses twice as fast to you this time, and Sideswipe can't help asking what the pit that pathetic attempt was! "Have you ever even beaten them in a spar before?!"

Sunstreaker snapped his helm in Sideswips direction with a glare that could freeze the pit over. "Shut the frag up, Pookie!"

Sideswipes on his pedes and in his brothers space in no time flat because how fragging dare he?! You barely get to call him that! "What was that, Sunshine!?"

They're swinging at each other before they know it with you laughing in the background. You end up breaking them up before they get too into it and scold them both with the pet names they both hate.

[scarletwinterxx]

pull up - hong joshua imagine

i had soooo much fun writing this🥺 like it's sooo joshua coded i hope you get what I mean when you read it, also it's been a while since i wrote a joshua fic. lowkey gatekeeping the fluff bcs he's my bias but also i want everyone to feel what i feel while i was writing this so hope you enjoy🤍

ALSOOOOO while writing this, i had two songs i felt was perfect for this. Kinda helped me with the vision. It's I Really Like You bu Carly Rae Jepsen and goodnight n go by Ariana Grande.

you can follow me on x i usually rant there, niniramyeonie 😊🌻

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You notice him on a Tuesday.

Which is strange, because Tuesdays are usually your most half-hearted gym days. Mondays are for fake enthusiasm. Wednesdays are for convincing yourself you're halfway through the week and therefore invincible. But Tuesdays? Tuesdays are for regretting all your life choices while trudging on a treadmill and pretending not to hate everyone around you.

But then he appears.

Tall. Built like someone who owns multiple foam rollers and actually uses them. His hair is tousled in that “I totally woke up like this but in an expensive shampoo commercial way,” and his eyes—oh God, his eyes—are these wide, soft things, like they were stolen from a Disney deer. If Bambi decided to bulk up and develop a jawline.

You try not to stare. You fail.

He doesn’t look like a brooding gym type. No aggressive grunting. No primal chest thumps. No mirror selfies. Instead, he quietly sets up at the far corner near the free weights, earbuds in, hoodie on despite the heat. Private, maybe. Or shy. Or both.

You spend longer than you'd like to admit trying to figure out if he's intimidating or just doesn’t like people.

There's a difference, you think. Intimidating guys usually flex unnecessarily and wink at you when you’re just trying to do lunges without dying. This guy? He barely makes eye contact with anyone. When someone walks too close to his bench, he politely scoots over without making a fuss.

It's almost disappointing.

Because if he was a jerk, you could just write him off and move on with your life.

But no. Instead, he has the audacity to stretch quietly in the corner with perfect posture and soft eyelashes and forearms that look carved out of daydreams. Who even looks like that at your local gym? This isn’t Hollywood.

And you, meanwhile, are pretending to know how to deadlift properly while sneaking glances like you're trying to memorize the periodic table. You are not slick.

At one point, he catches you mid-glance, and for a brief, painful second, you both hold eye contact.

Your brain short-circuits.

You do the only logical thing and immediately look away like you've just remembered an urgent errand in the opposite direction. Possibly in another country.

You spend the rest of your workout way too aware of his presence. Like he’s gravity and your body is betraying you by orbiting around him.

You leave the gym sweaty, confused, and very annoyed with yourself. You don’t even know his name.

But you’re definitely going to find out.

=

A few days later and you’re at the gym again..

You're not proud of it, but you're here standing in front of a very complicated-looking machine that has too many pulleys and not enough labels. You've never used it before. You don’t even know its name. 

Chest press? Lat pulldown? Mid-life crisis simulator?

Honestly, you just got bored of the StairMaster. Your usual routine suddenly felt repetitive… or maybe it just felt less interesting now that he’s become part of your peripheral gym experience.

And hey, maybe it’s time to switch it up. Be spontaneous. Try new things. Be mysterious and well-rounded.

You immediately regret it.

Because you’ve been standing here for a full minute pretending to “study the mechanics” of this cursed contraption, while mostly just staring at the diagram like it’s written in ancient Sumerian. There are straps. Levers. Pins. Maybe even a hidden booby trap?

You tug at one handle, and it clonks loudly against the frame, echoing across the gym like the sound of your pride imploding.

And then—

“You, uh… planning to fight it or use it?”

The voice is soft, warm—teasing without being mean. Like maple syrup with a smirk.

You freeze. Your brain goes completely silent.

Because it’s him.

And God, he’s even better up close. There’s this effortless softness to him, like he’s not trying to be charming but it just… leaks out of him naturally. Like an accidental flirt. A boy-band heartthrob doing errands.

You laugh, but it comes out weird and high-pitched, like you’ve swallowed helium and regret all your life choices.

“I’m, uh. Studying it. For science.”

He grins, bright and immediate, like you’ve said the most charming thing ever. “Well, if you figure out how to make it time travel, let me know. I think it's supposed to be a row machine. Or a medieval torture device. Could go either way.”

“So,” he continues, still smiling, “want a hand? Or do you prefer to risk dislocating something for the thrill of it?”

You blink. “I mean… I do like to live dangerously.”

He chuckles, then steps closer. “Dangerous is not knowing which pin to pull and just yanking stuff randomly. Let me show you.”

You do your best to stay calm while he casually leans over, adjusting the weights, pulling one of the pins like it’s nothing. His arm brushes yours and it’s electric. Not in a dramatic, soul-bonding way—just enough to make you forget your own name for a second.

“There,” he says. “Now you just sit here, pull this toward your chest. Keep your back straight, don’t yank.”

You nod, fully intending to listen.

You will absolutely not remember a single word of that.

He steps back, giving you space, but that soft smile lingers like a secret between you. “You got this. I’m Joshua, by the way”

You quickly mumble your name back, then look at the equipment again

“Damn,” you say. “Guess I’ll have to actually work out now.”

He starts to walk away, then glances over his shoulder. “If you survive this thing, I’ll be impressed.”

You don’t say anything back. Mostly because your brain still hasn’t rebooted.

But your heart is definitely doing wind sprints.

After the brutal set you tried to finish, you grab your water bottle, stealing one last glance his way. He’s still watching.

You take a long sip of water, trying to ignore the way your pulse is very much not calming down. It’s not the workout. It’s not the row machine. It’s definitely not the totally casual conversation with the gym’s most charming human.

You glance back at him, and that teasing glint is still there, like he’s waiting for a comeback.

So you give him one.

“I’m gonna get you back,” you say, capping your bottle. “Just you wait until you try the StairMaster.”

He snorts. “Is that a threat?”

“Oh, absolutely. That thing humbles even the cockiest of men.”

He groans dramatically, head dropping back against the bench. “Ugh. Not the StairMaster. That thing is evil in mechanical form.”

You gasp, mock offended. “You take that back.”

“I won’t. It’s unnatural. No human should ever climb stairs endlessly to nowhere. It's a trap.”

You grin, arms crossed. “Spoken like someone who’s never reached the top.”

He squints at you suspiciously. “There’s no top. That’s the whole scam. It just keeps going until your legs give out and your soul leaves your body.”

“That’s where the character-building happens.”

“That’s where the near-death experience happens.”

You walk past him toward the water fountain, tossing a smirk over your shoulder. “Someday, Joshua. I’m gonna catch you on it. And when I do, I’ll be right there. Watching.”

He laughs, low and warm. “If that day comes, I expect emotional support. And probably an ambulance.”

“Nope,” you call back. “Only judgment.”

“Brutal.”

You glance at him again as you turn the corner. He’s still looking, shaking his head, that smile spreading slow like he’s already thinking about what he’s going to say next time.

And you? You’re definitely planning what machine to “accidentally” use wrong next.

=

A few days later, you’re back.

Same gym. Same playlist. Same questionable protein shake sloshing around in your stomach.

You’ve already stretched, done your usual warm-up, and for some reason—maybe it’s the memory of a certain pair of bambi-eyes watching you flirt with death on the row machine—you find yourself standing in front of the pull-up bar.

Just staring.

It stares back. Cold. Unforgiving. Judgy.

You’ve never really attempted it. You know you have the upper body strength of a sleepy cat. The last time you even tried, you managed one and a half reps and pulled a muscle in your neck that made it look like you were perpetually trying to dodge an awkward hug.

But today… today you’re thinking about it.

And thinking about it is basically halfway to doing it, right?

You clap your hands like you’re about to do something epic. Then you hop up, grab the handles, and immediately regret all your choices.

You get one. One clean pull-up, arms shaking, face doing things that definitely aren’t attractive.

The second one? You try. God, you try.

Halfway up, your arms begin to betray you. Your legs flail in a pathetic attempt to help. Your body says “absolutely not” and your pride goes down with you. You hang there, a weird little noodle of a human, wondering if there’s a graceful way to descend without collapsing completely.

“Alright,” a voice says behind you, amused. “Now that’s bravery.”

You don’t have to turn around to know who it is.

“Don’t,” you groan. “Don’t you dare say anything.”

Joshua’s laugh is warm and merciless. “I wasn’t gonna say anything! Just… observing. You know. For science.”

You drop down from the bar and turn to face him, breathless, cheeks burning, arms already sore.

“You’re stalking me,” you accuse, pointing a finger at him.

He raises both hands in mock surrender. “Hey. You were the one declaring StairMaster vengeance. I came to see if you were plotting.”

“Plotting,” you huff. “Right. Clearly I’m too busy being an upper-body icon.”

“Iconic,” he nods solemnly. “In the way baby goats are iconic for trying to jump and immediately falling over.”

You glare, but it’s only half-hearted. “Wow. First, sarcasm coach. Now personal trainer and comedian.”

“I contain multitudes,” he says, then glances up at the bar. “You almost had that second one though.”

You raise a brow. “You’re lying to make me feel better.”

“I’m lying to make me feel better,” he grins. “Because if you get better at this stuff, you’re gonna be way too powerful.”

You shake your head, laughing despite yourself. “Well, if I mysteriously vanish, check under the StairMaster. That’s where I hide all my victims.”

Joshua tilts his head, considering. “Dark. Unexpected. I like it.”

You’re just about to make some kind of witty escape when Joshua says it.

“Come on,” he nods toward the pull-up bar. “I’ll spot you.”

You blink. “You’ll what now?”

He’s already walking over, casual like it’s no big deal, like this isn’t a defining moment in your emotional history.

“Spot you,” he says again, glancing back at you with that stupidly gentle smile. “So you don’t fall to your dramatic death after one and a half pull-ups.”

You try to laugh. It comes out as more of a nervous wheeze.

“Very heroic of you,” you manage, eyeing the bar like it personally wronged you.

He shrugs, standing just under it now, hands flexing like he’s warming them up. “Someone’s gotta keep you alive.”

You stare at him. At the way his shirt clings to his shoulders. At the veins in his arms. At the way he’s looking at you like this is casual. Normal.

It is not normal. You try to be cool. You try to be composed. But your body? Your body has completely abandoned the plan.

Because now you’re walking toward him. Slowly. Automatically. Like some magnetic force is pulling you in.

You step under the bar. He’s standing right behind you now, close but not too close. His hands lift, hovering for a second like he’s giving you a chance to back out.

You don’t.

And then—

His hands land gently on your waist.

It’s a soft, grounding touch, not too firm, but very present. Your breath catches.

This is fine, you tell yourself.

This is so not fine. Your brain screams.

“You good?” he asks, voice quiet now. There’s something softer in his tone, like he knows exactly what he's doing to your internal system and is pretending he doesn’t.

You nod, eyes fixed on the bar above. “Yep. Good. Great.”

“You're gonna pull up, and I’ll just support your hips a little. Let you push through it without dropping.”

You manage a strangled “cool” and grab the handles, arms already shaking from the sheer adrenaline surging through you.

You pull.

It’s not perfect. Not clean. Your arms scream and your legs do a weird little kick at the end. But you make it. Higher than before. Controlled.

His hands steady you the whole way up—and then guide you gently back down.

“See?” he murmurs near your ear. “Told you. You got this.”

You’re pretty sure your heart is doing backflips. Loud, panicked backflips. You let go of the bar, drop to the floor, and immediately step away like physical distance might help your brain reset.

Spoiler: it does not.

Joshua’s grinning again, hands back at his sides, like he didn’t just ruin your ability to form coherent thought.

“Thanks,” you say, trying to sound chill and not like you’re about to collapse into a puddle.

“Anytime,” he says easily. “You let me know when it’s StairMaster Day. I’ll be there.”

You almost say something flirty. You almost say you already are.

But instead, you toss him a half-smile and mumble, “Better start working on your cardio.”

And then you walk away. Quickly. Before you combust right there in front of the pull-up bar.

The second your front door closes behind you, you're already pulling your phone out of your bag with shaking hands. You don’t even kick off your shoes. There are more important matters at hand.

Like the fact that Joshua Hong just touched your waist and told you you got this in a voice that should be illegal in public gyms.

You hit Nayeon’s contact. She picks up before the second ring.

“What.”

You skip hello entirely.

“GUESS WHAT.”

A beat of silence.

Then: “Oh my god. Did you finally throw a dumbbell at that guy who grunts like a mating walrus?”

“What? No—focus. I—Joshua. Joshua was at the gym.”

A dramatic gasp. “Bambi guy?!”

“Yes. And he spotted me. Like, hands-on-me, spotted me.”

“You’re lying.”

“I wish I was lying. He offered, I blacked out emotionally, and then I walked toward him like some possessed gym siren. And then—wait for it—his hands were on my waist.”

Nayeon lets out a long, satisfied scream that you have to pull your phone away from your ear for.

“I’m sorry,” she says breathlessly. “You touched souls and you’re casually calling me like it’s a weather update?! How was it?! What did it feel like?! Did your body leave your spirit plane?!”

You collapse onto your couch, still not fully recovered. “It felt like… like my brain stopped working but in a good way? Like the kind of malfunction where you’re aware something deeply unprofessional is happening to your heart rate?”

“I’m so proud of you. You’ve officially entered RomCom Phase Two: The Accidental Intimate Contact.”

You groan. “It wasn’t even that intimate! It was… I don’t know. Friendly. Gym-friendly.”

“Did he look you in the eyes like he knew you were about to internally combust?”

A pause. “Yes.”

“Did he say something in a voice that made you question your ability to speak?”

“...Yes.”

“Then congratulations,” Nayeon says smugly. “That boy is flirting. Lightly. Respectfully. But definitely.”

You flop backward, one hand over your eyes. “I said you better start working on your cardio and then walked away like I didn’t want to collapse in a corner and scream into my towel.”

Nayeon howls. “That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. I’m putting it in my will.”

You’re quiet for a second, smiling up at your ceiling like it just told you a secret.

“He really is nice,” you murmur.

“I bet he is,” Nayeon says. “But let me know when he touches your waist again. I’ll bring confetti.”

=

You’re half-awake, phone in one hand, tote bag slipping off your shoulder, and every ounce of your remaining energy focused on surviving the Monday morning café line. The air smells like roasted beans and too much cologne, and you’re two seconds from ordering the largest iced americano known to man.

The barista gives you the tiniest smile and asks, “What would you like?”

“Iced americano, please,” you say in a daze, already pulling out your card, head down, ready to tap and shuffle off like every other caffeine-dependent adult.

But then—

A hand slides in next to yours. Card first.

And a voice, soft but teasing: “I got it.”

You freeze. Look up.

Joshua.

In a hoodie and cap pulled low, like he’s trying not to be recognized—but there’s no mistaking him. Not when he’s standing right there, grinning like this is normal. Like this is not the second time he’s absolutely obliterated your nervous system in public.

Your brain short-circuits.

“Wait—what—are you—what are you doing here?”

He tilts his head. “Getting coffee. What are you doing here? Practicing your dramatic gasp?”

You blink. “How did you even—?”

“I saw you through the window,” he says, gesturing casually over his shoulder. “Recognized the tragic posture.Thought, hey, she probably needs caffeine and emotional support.”

“You didn’t have to pay for me.”

Joshua shrugs, already sliding his card back into his wallet. “Consider it a reward. For surviving the pull-up bar. And for not actually passing out while I spotted you.”

You squint at him. “So this is payback.”

“Exactly,” he says, eyes crinkling. “Also, I owed you for the StairMaster threats. This is safer.”

You step aside so the next customer can order, taking your receipt with numb fingers. “You are dangerously charming, you know that?”

“I’ve heard rumors,” he says, walking with you to the pickup counter.

You eye him sideways. “Do you come here a lot?”

“Not really,” he says, then glances at you. “Maybe I will now.”

And just like that—there it is again. That look.

The light, flirty, annoyingly smooth look that says he’s enjoying this way too much. That he’s already planning his next move.

You press your lips together to keep from smiling like an idiot. Your name gets called. You grab your drink. He grabs his.

And then he leans in just a little, low enough that you can feel the warmth of his voice when he says, “You still owe me one StairMaster session, by the way.”

You take a long sip of your coffee just to avoid answering.

But the blush creeping up your neck?

Yeah, he definitely sees it.

You both step out of the café, the door swinging shut behind you with a soft ding. The morning air’s brisk but not cold, sunlight just beginning to slip between buildings, painting the street in soft gold.

Joshua falls into step beside you, sipping his coffee like this is some everyday thing. Like the two of you didn’t just share a casual rom-com scene inside a café.

He glances at you. “Heading to work?”

You nod, clutching your cup a little tighter. “Yep. You?”

“Yeah,” he says, then gestures down the opposite sidewalk. “That way.”

You look in the direction he points. Opposite of yours.

Of course.

You both pause on the corner. People stream around you—students in uniforms, office workers, ahjummas with shopping bags—but there’s a strange little pocket of quiet that hovers around you two.

You shift your weight. “So… different directions.”

Joshua nods, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Tragic.”

You laugh lightly. “Life’s tough.”

“For now,” he says, watching you over the rim of his cup. “But hey, I still owe you cardio humiliation. I’ll find you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You sure you’re ready for that?”

“Emotionally? No. Physically? Also no. But for you?” He leans in just slightly, eyes sparkling. “I’ll suffer.”

You snort, trying not to let your entire face betray you. “What a romantic.”

He grins. “It’s in my nature.”

The crosswalk signal chirps. You both glance at it, then back at each other.

You step backward slowly, toward your side of the street. “Okay, go be mysterious and productive or whatever it is you do.”

“And you,” he says, pointing with his cup, “go be chaotic and competitive. Just… don’t fall off anything.”

You flash him a final grin, walking backward a few more steps. “No promises.”

=

It’s been a week. Seven full days. Four gym sessions. Not that he’s counting. (He is absolutely counting.)

Joshua had figured maybe you were switching up your schedule. Or taking a break. Or plotting your next slow-burn attack on his cardiovascular endurance. But by day five, when you still hadn’t walked through the gym doors in your usual comfy hoodie and defiant energy, he started to feel… something.

Nothing dramatic. Just… He kind of missed seeing you.

Not in a we should talk about our feelings kind of way. More like a where did the chaos go? way. The gym felt weirdly quiet without your teasing, your grumbling, your almost-impossible pull-ups.

So when he drags himself to the café after his morning run the following week, hoodie damp with sweat and music still playing in one earbud, he’s not expecting much more than caffeine and maybe a bagel if the world is kind.

What he doesn’t expect is to hear the bell chime behind him and your voice.

“Ugh, finally. I swear this place is the only thing getting me out of bed lately.”

He turns before he can even stop himself. There you are—messy bun, oversized sweater, tired eyes, and all. You don’t see him at first, too busy mumbling something to yourself about how oat milk better not be sold out again.

He smiles. And waits.

Then you glance up, catch him standing near the pickup counter, and blink like your brain needs a second to register.

“Oh—hey!”

Joshua raises an eyebrow. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the girl who ghosted the gym.”

You smirk, stepping into line. “Excuse me. I did not ghost. I was temporarily out of commission.”

He leans an elbow on the counter, coffee in hand, grinning. “So mysterious.”

You sigh dramatically. “Cramps were killing me. Girl things. War zone. You wouldn’t survive.”

Joshua chokes a little on his sip.

You laugh at his expression. “What? You asked.”

“I didn’t ask for that mental image,” he says, shaking his head, amused.

“I gave it anyway,” you say brightly, stepping up to order. “That’s what I do. I give.”

He watches you place your order, then swipes his card before you can reach for your own.

“Again?” you protest.

“Call it a welcome back gift.”

You squint at him. “You’re trying to train me like a puppy. Every time I show up, you give me treats.”

“Is it working?”

You pause. Then grin. “Maybe.”

You both wait for your drinks at the end of the counter, shoulders brushing just slightly in the morning rush.

He tilts his head toward you. “You coming back to the gym this week?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Tomorrow, probably. I’ve got rage to burn and stairs to climb.”

His smile widens. “Music to my ears.”

You nudge him with your elbow. “Missed me, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Just looks at you over his coffee lid.

“Wouldn’t survive a war zone,” he says. “But yeah. I kinda did.”

You swear you played it cool.

You smiled. You sassed. You walked out of that café with your dignity intact and your coffee in hand like someone who has not been emotionally steamrolled by a boy in a hoodie.

But the second you slid into the booth across from Nayeon at lunch, all bets were off.

You didn’t even wait for her to finish her first bite.

“I’m losing it,” you whisper-shriek, leaning across the table like you’re confessing a federal crime.

Nayeon blinks. “Hi? Good to see you too?”

“No, listen. He was at the café again. Joshua. After his run. Sweaty. Hoodie. Smiling. Paid for my coffee again.”

She gasps, already putting down her chopsticks. “Did he say something flirty?”

You nod, wide-eyed. “He said he missed me.”

Dead silence. Then Nayeon slaps the table so hard the metal chopsticks clatter. “YOU’RE DATING.”

“We are not dating,” you hiss, glancing around to make sure no one’s listening. “We’re flirting. Lightly. Slowly. Like… like an air fryer setting.”

“Okay, so when’s the wedding?”

You groan, sliding down in your seat. “I panicked. I made a girl-things joke and then elbowed him. Elbowed. Him.”

“I mean, that is your version of affection.”

You cover your face with your hands. “And now? Now I have to go back to the gym. Where I used to look like a sleep-deprived raccoon. And now I have to… I don’t know, try.”

Nayeon grins like the devil. “Oh? Someone’s thinking about their gym fit now?”

You peek through your fingers. “I literally bought new leggings this morning. I googled cute-but-functional ponytail styles.”

She clutches her heart. “You’re in deep.”

You nod solemnly. “Drowning.”

“You know what this means, right?” she says, sipping her soda. “You’re officially entering RomCom Phase Three.”

You raise a brow. “Which is?”

She smirks. “The ‘oh no, I actually care how I look around him’ phase. It's fatal.”

You sigh dramatically and stab a piece of kimchi. “Send flowers to the old me. She didn’t contour for cardio.”

Nayeon lifts her glass in salute. “To gym crushes and unexpected motivation.”

You clink her glass with yours, already plotting tomorrow’s playlist and wondering if there’s a subtle way to make “accidentally” run into Joshua without… you know… trying.

=

You walk into the gym like it’s just another day. Just another normal, totally-not-overthought, not-at-all-strategically-timed workout.

You’ve got your hair up in a ponytail that took two tries, a matching set you absolutely didn’t panic-buy during a midnight scroll, and your face set in what you hope is a calm, effortless expression.

Internally? Screaming.

You head over to the mats to warm up, muttering to yourself like you always do. It’s kind of your thing. Mostly because talking through your workouts distracts you from the sheer indignity of physical effort.

"Okay. Back. Finally. Time to prove I can still do a crunch without crying. Just twenty reps. Or ten. Or like... four. Let’s not be ambitious."

You drop into a stretch, huffing as your hamstrings scream at you.

"See, this is what happens when you let your uterus bench you for a week—your body turns into string cheese."

Then a voice behind you, smooth and slightly smug. 

“String cheese, huh? That’s a new one.”

Your soul leaves your body. You whip around, nearly falling sideways out of your stretch.

Joshua is there. Hoodie slung over his shoulder. Hair a little damp. Sweaty in the way that looks criminally good on him. And smiling, like he’s been standing there for longer than you’d like to think about.

You blink at him. “How long have you been there.”

“Long enough to hear your motivational speech,” he says, stepping onto the mat next to you.

You groan, covering your face with your towel. “God. I was doing bits. I was mid-rant. You can’t sneak up on a person during that.”

He chuckles, sitting down to stretch beside you like this is routine. “You talk to yourself a lot when you work out?”

“Only when I’m trying not to die.”

“Well,” he says, reaching forward with ease that makes you regret your whole existence, “it’s entertaining. I’ve missed the commentary.”

You peek at him through your fingers. “Don’t make me regret coming back.”

“You regret it already,” he says, nudging you gently with his knee. “You just don’t want to admit it.”

You try to scoff, but it comes out as a smile. “You’re insufferable.”

“Tell that to your string cheese arms.”

Then Joshua stretches, stands up, and says it so casually you almost miss it.

“Come on. I’ll spot you.”

Just like that. Like he didn’t just turn your heart into a meteorite. Like it’s normal to say things like that with his hair all messy and his shirt clinging to his back like a sin.

You pause, blinking up at him from your sad little mat. “Spot me where?”

He nods his head toward the weights section. “Pull-ups.”

You immediately shake your head. “Nooooi. No, no, no. We’re not doing that. My arms are still in recovery. Mentally.”

He grins, totally unfazed. “One rep. I’ll help.”

“You say that like I won’t dramatically collapse and cause a gym-wide scene.”

“I say that,” he replies, holding a hand out to you, “because I want to see if string cheese can fight gravity.”

You squint at him. “You really like testing your luck, huh?”

He just wiggles his fingers. Still waiting. You groan, roll your eyes, and slap your hand into his like you’ve just signed a very bad contract with a very cute devil.

“Fine. But when I fall, I’m haunting you.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

He leads the way, and you follow grumbling the whole time, of course. Loud enough that a few people glance over, but you’re too focused on not combusting to care.

And when you reach the bar, he steps behind you, hands automatically ready at your waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You hesitate. Just one second. Long enough to register how close he is. How warm his hands are. How your brain is already trying to malfunction.

Then you huff, grab the bar, and mutter, “This is bullying disguised as fitness.”

And he, as expected, laughs. “Welcome back.”

You take a breath.

Hands on the bar. Shoulders tense. Joshua standing behind you, hands already hovering at your waist, warm and steady and—God. Focus.

“You ready?” he asks, voice low near your ear.

“No,” you answer flatly.

“Perfect. That’s the spirit.”

You suppress a groan and pull. Immediately, your arms are like, absolutely not, but then his hands are there—gently guiding, lifting just enough for you to move, your body rising in a way that’s technically assisted but still feels monumental.

Halfway up, your brain forgets how to form thoughts. Mostly because his hands are still on your waist and you are 98% sure he’s smiling. You can't see it, but you can feel it. That smug little smirk of his radiating off his face like heat.

You grunt. “I hate this. I hate you. I hate physics.”

Joshua chuckles. “You’re doing great.”

You manage a shaky pull, then drop with a dramatic gasp, limbs jelly.

He steadies you as you land, laughing. “That was almost one and a half.”

“I demand a trophy. And an ice pack. And maybe a wheelchair.”

“I’ll start a GoFundMe.”

You turn to him, still breathless, hair sticking to your forehead, and jab a finger at his chest. “You’re having way too much fun with this.”

“I really am,” he admits without shame.

You both stand there for a second, grinning like idiots, way too close for two people pretending this is just a casual gym friendship.

Then he adds, softer this time, “I meant it though. You did good.”

You glance up at him. He’s not teasing now. Not entirely. Just watching you with those warm eyes, a little out of breath himself.

And okay. Fine. You definitely need to leave before your knees give out for reasons unrelated to exercise.

“I’m going to the treadmill,” you say, turning abruptly.

Joshua calls after you. “What happened to hating cardio?”

“I hate being perceived more!”

You climb onto the treadmill with the grace of someone who just survived emotional warfare. You press a few random buttons, pretending to focus, when really you’re just trying to calm your entire nervous system.

And of course. Of course he follows you.

You glance to your side, and there he is, casually stepping onto the treadmill next to yours like he’s not the reason your soul left your body fifteen minutes ago.

“Please. Let me breathe.”

“I would, but I’m trying to flirt with you.”

Your feet nearly miss the belt.

You turn slowly, narrowing your eyes. “Trying?”

He shrugs, smirking. “Well, not very hard. You’re kinda doing all the work just existing.”

You make a noise—half choke, half laugh—as your brain trips over itself.

“That’s the line you’re going with?” you say, mock-scandalized.

“I didn’t plan it,” he says, grinning. “But I stand by it.”

You shake your head, biting your lip, heart pounding in your ears more than your feet on the treadmill.

“You know you’re not supposed to flirt while I’m exercising. I’m vulnerable. My dignity’s compromised.”

Joshua taps the speed up on your treadmill by 0.2 just to be annoying. “Dangerous territory. Anything could happen.”

You gasp. “Are you trying to get me to trip?”

“Trying to impress you with my multitasking.”

“Impress me by not getting kicked out for harassment.”

He raises a brow. “So flirting with you is harassment now?”

You glance at him, cheeks flushed, heartbeat wild, but your mouth still knows exactly what to say.

“Only because it’s working.”

He stares at you for a second. A beat. Then he grins wider, a tiny laugh slipping out as he looks back at the front of his treadmill.

And that silence between you? Buzzing. Effortless. Dangerous.

A few minutes pass. You’re both running now, side by side, music low, heart rates up, bodies warming into that steady, breathy rhythm. Joshua’s quiet for a while, eyes forward, jaw sharp in profile, the kind of focused that should not look as attractive as it does.

And then—casually, almost like he’s commenting on the weather—he says, 

“So… no boyfriend, or…?”

You glance at him, startled but amused, nearly tripping over your own feet again. The treadmill beeps angrily as you stabilize.

You huff out a laugh. “Wow. Smooth.”

“I thought so,” he says, lips twitching.

You shake your head. “Nope. No boyfriend.”

He raises a brow, like he’s waiting for the follow-up.

“I think my very tragic, very bold attempts at flirting should be proof enough that I’ve been single for a while.”

Joshua laughs, genuinely, the sound slipping out between breaths. “That bad, huh?”

“I elbowed you, Hong. That was one of my first moves.”

“Hey, I kind of liked that. Very… assertive.”

You snort. “If elbowing is the bar, your standards worry me.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, tapping up his speed just slightly. “I’m not looking for a black belt. Just someone who talks to herself and calls her arms string cheese.”

You let out a loud, delighted laugh, nearly doubling over on the belt before catching yourself.

“God, you're lucky I’m too out of breath to roast you right now.”

He glances at you, smiling. “I’ll take what I can get.”

You slow your treadmill just a little, You glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

“You’re dangerous,” you say, almost offhand, but not really.

Joshua arches a brow. “Yeah?”

You nod, swallowing back a grin. “You make me laugh.”

He turns fully toward you now, still jogging, like he doesn’t even feel the effort. “And?”

“And then my mind goes completely blank the next second,” you admit, mock dramatic. “It's inconvenient. Hazardous, even.”

He chuckles, tilting his head. “So I’m a health risk now?”

“Absolutely. Emotional distraction. Should come with a warning label.”

“Funny. You’re the one running next to me looking like an ad for gym crushes.”

You nearly stumble again. “Okay, sir—”

“I’m just saying,” he continues, all smug and unbothered, “if anyone’s dangerous here, it’s you. With your string cheese arms and motivational mumbling.”

“Oh my God,” you groan, dragging a hand down your face, but you’re smiling too hard to commit to the bit.

He leans slightly closer, not enough to break form, just enough for you to feel the heat off his skin. “Blank mind, huh?”

You blink up at him.

“Right now?” he adds, voice a little lower, just teasing enough.

Your brain promptly does exactly what he said: goes blank. You open your mouth. Nothing.

He grins. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He grins, then slows down too, finally stepping off and grabbing his water bottle. For a second, it’s just the low hum of the gym around you, the distant clank of weights, your own heartbeat in your ears.

You swipe your phone from the cubby, pretending not to glance his way. Pretending like your entire body isn’t aware of his body standing just a little too close beside you.

He clears his throat. You look up.

He’s watching you, towel around his neck, a tiny flicker of nervousness in his eyes. It’s subtle, but it’s there—just enough to make your breath catch.

“So,” he starts, “are you doing anything Saturday?”

You blink.

He rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish but still somehow maddeningly composed. “I figured since we’ve got this... ongoing string cheese banter thing, maybe we upgrade to real food. No treadmills. No pull-ups. Just—you know. A proper hangout.”

You stare at him.

Then blink again.

“Wait, are you asking me out?”

He smiles, boyish and warm. “Trying to.”

You feel your face flush. Completely. No saving it now.

“Okay, wow. Um. Yeah. Yes. I mean, if you're willing to risk spending time with me outside of a fluorescent-lit torture room.”

Joshua’s eyes crinkle. “I think I’ll manage.”

“Cool,” you say, suddenly hyper-aware of how sweaty and ridiculous you look. “So. Saturday.”

“Saturday,” he echoes.

You start walking toward the locker rooms, heart in your throat, smile you can’t hide, and just as you’re about to turn the corner, he calls out—

“Oh, and hey?”

You glance back.

He’s leaning against the wall now, casually, towel slung over his shoulder, smirking like he already knows what he’s done to you tonight.

“I like the ponytail.”

You're pretty sure you black out for a second.

And yeah, you definitely almost walk into a water fountain.

=

Saturday evening.

You’ve changed outfits no less than eight times. Jeans? Too casual. Skirt? Too short. White top? Too risky. That one jumpsuit you swore made you look expensive? Suddenly feels like a Halloween costume.

Nayeon is lying belly-down on your bed, scrolling through her phone with the kind of serenity only someone not going on a date can possess.

“You’ve tried on enough outfits to walk a runway twice,” she says, not even looking up. “Just wear the pink one. The flowy dress. You looked cute.”

You groan from the floor. “I don’t want to look cute. I want to look like… I don’t know. Dateable. Like, someone who won’t say ‘string cheese’ in conversation.”

“Too late for that,” she mutters.

You glare. “Traitor.”

But fifteen minutes and a mini breakdown later, you're standing in front of the mirror in that exact pink summer dress, hair soft and just messy enough to look effortless, cheeks lightly flushed from the nerves. You turn to Nayeon.

“Be honest. Do I look like I’m trying too hard?”

“You look like someone’s about to fall in love with you.”

Your face scrunches. “Ew.”

She just grins. “Text me when you’re home or I’m calling the cops.”

Your phone buzzes.

Joshua: I’m downstairs :)

Cue heart skipping a beat. You grab your purse, whisper-scream into it for good measure, then fly down the stairs like your life depends on it.

The front door opens to a soft summer breeze. And Joshua—standing there by a black car, in a white linen shirt and jeans that somehow make your brain short-circuit—holding a small bouquet of pink tulips.

You freeze.

He blinks, eyes raking over you once, slowly. Then a smile spreads across his face, that gentle kind that feels like it’s meant just for you.

“These…” He holds out the bouquet. “These match your dress. I swear it wasn’t planned. I didn’t even know what you were wearing. But—” He tilts his head. “I’m not mad about it.”

You reach for the flowers, trying to play it cool even as your fingers brush his. “Wow. So now you’re dangerous and lucky.”

Joshua laughs. “Let’s call it fate. Shall we?”

And with that, he opens the car door for you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like this is just the beginning.

You slide into the passenger seat, bouquet clutched in your hands, cheeks already burning. 

Breathe, you tell yourself. Be normal. Be chill. Be a functioning adult woman who is not immediately reduced to mush by a man in linen and a watch.

Joshua climbs in, starts the car with one smooth twist of his wrist, and you catch a glimpse of the watch on his arm—sleek, minimal, silver. The kind of thing that shouldn't be so attractive but somehow is. It hugs his wrist perfectly, gleaming in the evening light, making his whole presence feel like a very curated attack on your willpower.

“You look really pretty,” he says, glancing over at you.

You smile, teeth and all, like an idiot. “Thank you. You, uh…” You gesture vaguely at him. “You’re doing a lot. With your existence.”

He grins. “That’s the plan.”

You roll your eyes, but the heat in your face says otherwise. He shifts into reverse, turning in his seat—and that’s when it happens.

That move.

Hand casually reaching behind your seat for support as he backs out of the spot, arm stretched out behind you, the other on the wheel, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. And you—sitting there—trying not to make a sound because wow.

Your brain short circuits. Every rom-com you’ve ever watched flashes before your eyes. You hate how effective it is. You hate that you notice. You really hate that the veins in his forearm are doing some kind of ancient magic on your heart.

“You okay?” he asks, glancing at you with a knowing smile.

You clear your throat, gaze locked out the window. “Yeah. Just, uh. You know. Processing.”

“Processing?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Me backing out of a parking spot?”

“Yep. Very intense. Emotionally charged moment for me.”

He laughs, head tilting toward you. “You’re not very good at pretending you’re unimpressed.”

“And you’re not very good at pretending you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.”

He raises a brow. “Touché.”

You’re still trying to recover from the parking maneuver thing when Joshua pulls onto the main road, one hand casually on the wheel, the other resting near the gear shift like he's not out here causing emotional chaos.

You steal a glance at him, then look away just as quickly. Your cheeks are still flaming. Your pulse? Racing. Your entire internal system? Malfunctioning.

“You sure you’ll survive tonight?”

You scoff, crossing your arms with the tulips still in hand. “Wow. Cocky and observant.”

He chuckles. “It’s a genuine question. I’ve seen, like, six flustered expressions in the past ten minutes. That’s a record.”

“I’m just—” You gesture vaguely at the air between you. “Adjusting. You’re very… composed for a man who brought flowers and wore a thirst trap on his wrist.”

Joshua raises an eyebrow. “Thirst trap?”

You point at his watch. “That.”

He glances down, then smirks. “So that’s what’s doing it?”

You narrow your eyes. “That and the parking move. Don’t play dumb.”

He laughs, actually laughs, and it’s that soft, warm sound again—like he can’t help it, like it’s just you who gets this version of him.

“You’re fun,” he says simply.

“That’s it? No sarcasm? No comeback?”

“Nope.” He glances over at you, smile still playing at his lips. “Just letting you have the moment.”

You make a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a dying noise. “Okay, you need to stop with the sincerity. My brain is short-circuiting.”

Joshua glances over, takes his time, then says in a tone so casual it might as well be criminal,

“You really do look beautiful tonight.”

He tilts his head, that gentle smile still playing at the corner of his mouth. “Why? Can’t handle a compliment?”

“No, I can, just—” You gesture vaguely. “Not when you say it like that. With your whole… face.”

“You mean, my face that you were just staring at for two straight minutes?”

Your jaw drops. “I was not—”

“You were. I timed it.”

“I was—strategizing.”

“Oh? About what?”

“About how not to combust before we even get to dinner.”

He hums, turning the wheel with one hand as he takes the next turn. “I like that you spiral. It’s cute.”

You glare at the dashboard. “Okay, wow. New level unlocked: professional menace.”

“You’re going to be a mess by dessert, aren’t you?”

Your mouth drops open again, and he laughs, that warm, smug, boyish laugh like he already knows he’s won.

You whip your head toward him. “Are you trying to kill me?”

He shrugs, far too pleased with himself. “Just saying. If you’re already like this now…” He glances at you, slow and deliberate. “I should warn you—I get worse.”

Your lungs fail. Your brain turns to soup. You want to fling yourself out the window in the most ladylike way possible.

You step out of the car and immediately stop in your tracks.

You were expecting a restaurant—like, a normal place with chairs and walls and menus laminated within an inch of their lives.

What you’re not expecting is this.

String lights drape like golden vines overhead, hanging between soft, leafy canopies and curved archways made of blooming roses and ivy. Candle-lit tables are scattered like little secrets across a stone path, with delicate place settings and linen napkins that scream “yes, this fork has three siblings and a trust fund.”

The view? A clear shot of the river, glistening under the dying blush of sunset.

You blink. “Is this… real?”

Joshua rounds the car, comes to stand beside you, hands casually in his pockets like he hasn’t just walked you into a scene from a K-drama finale.

“You like it?” he asks, with a glint in his eye he knows will wreck you.

You glance at him, wide-eyed. “I thought we were doing food. Not walking into a proposal.”

He just smirks, leading you towards the entrance. The host greets him by name.

You narrow your eyes. “You’re being suspiciously smooth tonight.”

He pulls out your chair. “I’m always smooth.”

You sit down slowly, tilting your head at him. “You wore the watch and chose a place with fairy lights. Who told you my entire aesthetic?”

“I pay attention.”

“You’re dangerous.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that tonight.”

“I stand by it.”

The server comes by, and Joshua lets you order first, doesn’t even look at the menu, just says, “I’ll have whatever she’s having,” with a flash of a grin.

You eye him. “Careful, I panic-order.”

He smirks. “Exactly. It’s more fun that way.”

When the server leaves, you rest your chin on your hand. “So. This is your idea of a casual first date?”

Joshua shrugs, eyes dancing. “I told you. I get worse.”

You raise a brow. “You’re lucky I find that incredibly hot.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “You think I wore the watch for me?”

You choke on your laugh, nearly knocking over your water. He just grins again, leaning back with that maddening ease, the lights catching in his hair like he’s made to be part of this setting. 

And for a second, the world around you blurs. Just you, him, and the slow burn of something very, very real.

The night drips by like honey.

Joshua’s leaned back in his chair now, elbow resting against the armrest, fingers lazily twirling his wine glass. He says something—dry, sarcastic, just a bit ridiculous—and you burst out laughing.

“Okay, wait,” you say, breathless, wiping at your eyes. “That’s not even a real story. You’re making that up.”

He grins like it’s a secret between you two. “Maybe. But you laughed. That’s a win.”

“Barely!” you say, even though you're still giggling.

He watches you, and it’s not in a way that makes you feel self-conscious—it’s the opposite. It’s warm. Attentive. Like you’re the only thing in the room worth looking at. And that’s what really does it.

You sip your wine to distract yourself. “Do you practice your charm? Like, in the mirror? Or were you just born annoying and heart-melting?”

Joshua tilts his head. “A little of both. But I do study.”

“Oh yeah?”

He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table now, voice dipping just enough to make you sit straighter.

“Like… I noticed you blush when I compliment you. But only if it’s quiet. Just between us.”

Your lips part slightly. “I—No, I don’t.”

“Sure.” He smiles like he’s absolutely sure. “And you smile bigger when you’re trying not to. Like right now.”

You press your lips together, willing yourself not to grin.

“And,” he continues, “you’re trying really hard to look unimpressed, but I caught you staring at me while I was talking about that ridiculous high school band story. Twice.”

You drop your head onto the table with a groan. “You’re unbearable.”

He laughs, soft and low. “But you like me anyway.”

You peek up at him, cheeks warm, heartbeat wrecked. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He tilts his head. “Let me walk you out later and I just might.”

You know you should say something smart, witty—anything—but you’re gone. Gone in the way that makes your chest ache with excitement and dread, both.

Because you know this kind of thing doesn’t come around often. Not the fancy lights, not the food, not even the compliments. But the way he looks at you. The way he listens. The way he talks to you like he’s always known how to.

You’d kick yourself if you let this go.

So, you sit up straighter, meet his gaze across the candlelight, and smile—soft and certain.

“Okay,” you say, lifting your glass. “Let’s see how charming you really are.”

After that night—the fairy lights, the river view, that maddening smirk—you knew you were done for.

But what you didn’t know was that Joshua Hong would treat this whole thing like a personal mission.

Not to impress you. No. To ruin you. Softly. Deliberately. One blush, one laugh, one lingering glance at a time.

The first date? A glowing success.

The second? A late-night bookshop crawl followed by hotteok from a street cart, where he brushed a crumb off your cheek and you nearly forgot how to speak.

The third? Rainy-day coffees and pressed knees in a tiny corner booth, and the way he said your name when you laughed—like it meant something.

Fourth? He taught you how to play pool. You lost. On purpose. (Okay, not really. But the way he leaned over to show you how to hold the cue stick? Yeah. You didn’t mind losing.)

By the time your fifth official date rolls around—some rooftop dinner he somehow made feel private and cozy in the middle of Seoul—you’re barely holding it together. The city lights glitter below. The food is untouched. Your wine’s going warm.

You’re talking about something—you don’t even remember what—when he tilts his head and says it:

“You’re driving me a little crazy, you know that?”

You stop breathing for a beat too long “I am?”

“Mm-hmm. And I’m being very patient.”

Your fingers tighten around your glass. “Are you saying I’m testing your willpower, Hong?”

He grins, slow and devastating. “I’m saying, if this keeps up, I might kiss you before dessert.”

The air shifts. You’re aware of everything—the hum of the rooftop heater, the buzz of the city below, the way your pulse is loud enough to hear in your ears.

You set your glass down. Very carefully. “Would that be a problem?”

He leans in slightly, elbows on the table. “For who?”

You lick your lips, heartbeat now fully sprinting. “For the cheesecake you ordered.”

Joshua laughs, but there’s tension under it. Electricity.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmurs again.

You smile, sweet and shaken. “Takes one to know one.”

After dinner, neither of you said anything about leaving. You just stood up, your hands brushed, and somehow—without planning, without speaking—they laced together like they'd been doing it forever.

No one commented. No one let go.

Now you’re walking through the quiet streets of the city, the kind that still shimmer with soft light, where the buildings are lower, the night quieter. A gentle breeze wraps around your bare arms, and his thumb brushes along your knuckles every few steps.

He swings your hands a little, like he’s not aware of the fact that every single nerve in your body is alert and buzzing. “So,” he says casually, “fifth date.”

You side-eye him, smiling. “Who's counting?”

He smirks. “I am. I keep a very detailed record. For science.”

You roll your eyes. “Let me guess—charts, graphs, infographics?”

He nods. “There's even a bar graph for the amount of times I’ve caught you staring at me.”

Your jaw drops in offense. “I do not—”

Joshua stops walking. You almost take another step before you notice, but he holds your hand just tight enough that you pause too, blinking up at him.

He’s looking at you. But not in the teasing, boyish way you’re used to. It’s softer now. Serious.

“You do,” he says gently. “But it’s okay. I stare too.”

You can’t find your voice for a second. It’s stuck somewhere behind your ribs.

The breeze moves your hair. He tucks a strand behind your ear like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I was gonna wait. Be smooth. You know, the gentleman thing.”

Your heart is pounding so hard you’re afraid it might echo in the stillness.

“But you look at me like that,” he murmurs, “and I kind of forget how to pretend.”

You open your mouth—but nothing comes out.

He steps closer. Just enough that you feel the warmth of him, smell the faint trace of his cologne and something clean and crisp like fresh laundry and summer air. He’s still holding your hand.

He tilts his head, slow, careful. “Can I?”

And you whisper—because it’s all you can manage—“Please.”

The kiss is soft. Barely there at first. His hand cups your cheek like he’s afraid you might vanish, and you lean in like you’ve been waiting for this exact moment since the beginning of time.

It’s gentle. Tender. But it’s not hesitant.

Because when his other hand settles on your waist, when he deepens the kiss just slightly, when you move closer without even thinking—it’s clear that every step, every look, every smile, led here.

And when you pull apart, just an inch, still close enough to breathe each other in, he doesn’t say anything right away.

He just rests his forehead against yours and whispers, “Yep. Definitely a sixth date.”

You laugh, quiet and breathless, standing on your tiptoes so your noses are still brushing, your hands curling lightly into the front of his shirt without even thinking.

His eyes crinkle as he watches you, his forehead still pressed gently to yours. You’re so close you can see the curl of his lashes, the shine in his pupils that makes your stomach flip like it’s never known peace.

Then he murmurs, voice low and teasing, “What’s the look for, pretty girl?”

Your smile wobbles just a little because he says it like he means it. Like you’re not just pretty, you’re his pretty girl. And you don’t even think he realizes how much that nickname already has you unraveling.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “You’re just…”

You trail off, shaking your head a little, and he pulls back just enough to look at you fully, still smiling, still curious. 

“Just what?”

You lift your brows like really? “You kissed me under fairy lights, brought me flowers, opened my car door, made me laugh so hard I choked on water, and looked at me like I hung the stars—and now you’re asking what the look is for?”

Joshua grins, the kind that starts at his lips but ends in his eyes—so warm, so soft it’s almost unbearable. “So I’m doing okay, then?”

“You’re so lucky you’re cute.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“Mm,” you hum, pretending to think, still pressed close to him. “You also smell nice.”

He laughs, tilting his head back just a little, and it vibrates through his chest where your hands still rest.

He brings one hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear again and lets his fingers linger just behind your jaw. “You’re making it really hard not to kiss you again.”

You shrug, leaning in even closer. “Who said you had to stop?”

And you kiss him this time. His hands find your waist again, his thumbs brushing the fabric of your dress as he kisses you like he has nowhere else to be, like the city around you doesn’t exist, like this sidewalk is the only place in the world.

When you finally pull away—barely—you’re both smiling. Staring. A little stunned, maybe.

“I can’t believe this is real,” you say, laughing into his chest.

He wraps his arms around you then, pulling you in, your feet slightly off the ground for just a second as he murmurs into your hair, “It’s real. All of it. You. Me.”

You nestle closer, your smile pressed to his shoulder. “You’re the best kind of trouble, Hong.”

He chuckles. “You’ve got no idea.”

=

Another day, another gym session, and naturally—you’re swearing under your breath at the cable machine like it personally insulted your ancestors.

“Why,” you mutter, wrestling with the pin, “do you exist—”

“You okay there?” a voice cuts in.

You look up, blinking.

He’s tall. Friendly smile. The kind of guy who probably means well but is leaning just a little too close to be casual.

You smile politely. “Oh, yeah. Just… negotiating with this death trap.”

He chuckles, clearly taking it as an invitation. “First time trying that machine?”

You nod, tugging your towel over your shoulder. “Yeah. I usually avoid anything that might require actual upper body strength.”

He laughs again, inching closer. “Well, I could show you how to—”

“I have a boyfriend,” you blurt out.

He freezes.

So do you.

You don’t know why you said it. It just… slipped out. Pure panic. Your fight-or-flight response has a third setting now: fake boyfriend defense.

The guy straightens, brows raised slightly. “Oh. Cool, cool. Just being friendly.”

Before you can awkwardly backtrack, you hear him.

“Everything good here?”

Joshua. He appears behind you like magic, towel slung over one shoulder, hair damp and sticking adorably to his forehead, shirt clinging in all the distracting places.

You glance at him like please go with it, and he slides in next to you, one hand gently resting at the small of your back. You lean into him without hesitation.

The guy eyes Joshua, clocking the very real heat in the space between you two, and holds his hands up in surrender. “Got it. My bad. See you around.”

Once he’s gone, Joshua doesn’t say anything at first. Just lifts a brow and leans in, murmuring near your ear, “Boyfriend, huh?”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “I panicked.”

Joshua smirks, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Didn’t seem like panic. Seemed… natural.”

You scoff. “What are you, pleased about it?”

He shrugs. “A little flattered, not gonna lie.”

“You’re impossible.”

He grins. “And yet… you called me your boyfriend.”

You jab him lightly in the ribs with your elbow. “Shut up.”

He doesn't even give you a second to recover.

Just flashes that maddeningly smug grin, rests a hand on your back like it's the most natural thing in the world, and says, “Okay, let’s go, girlfriend. Time to do pull-ups.”

You blink.

“You—what—excuse me?”

Joshua shrugs like it’s nothing. “You said it, not me. I'm just respecting the title.”

Your mouth opens, then closes. “That’s… not how this works.”

“Oh no?” He glances over his shoulder, leading you toward the pull-up bar. “So I don’t get boyfriend privileges now?”

You gape. “What privileges?”

“Well for starters, teasing rights. Unlimited. Spotting privileges—obviously. And I think there’s something in the fine print about post-gym smoothies. My treat, of course.”

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks are warm, your heart racing like he just kissed you again.

He stops in front of the pull-up bar and turns to face you, offering his hands to help you up like he’s done this a hundred times. “Come on, girlfriend. You’ve got this.”

You squint at him. “You’re gonna milk this forever, aren’t you?”

He tilts his head, smile boyish, eyes soft. “Only if you let me.”

You stare at him a beat longer. Then sigh dramatically as you step forward, placing your hands on the bar. “Fine. But if I fall on my face, I’m blaming my fake boyfriend.”

Joshua’s hands find your waist—confident, gentle. “Correction. You said I am your boyfriend. I’m just honoring your truth.”

You groan. “I’m never living this down.”

“Not a chance,” he says, grinning. “But don’t worry, girlfriend. I’ve got you.”

Later you two are in his car, in the parking lot of the smoothie place that has now become part of the routine. You’re curled up in the passenger seat, legs tucked under you, sipping your mango smoothie through a bright yellow straw. 

Joshua’s smoothie is already half gone, sitting in his cup holder while he taps the steering wheel lightly with his fingers.

You’re both quiet. Not in a weird way. Just that post-gym, smoothie-in-hand, everything-is-good kind of quiet.

Until he breaks it.

“So…” he says, glancing over at you with that unmistakable spark in his eyes, “how long have we been dating?”

You nearly choke on your drink.

You turn to him, eyes wide. “What?”

Joshua shrugs like he’s asking about the weather. “I just think it’s important to know. Like… are we new-new? Or established couple? Do I get to call you babe yet? Do we have matching outfits in our future? Are we meeting the parents? You know, just the basics.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

He leans his head against the headrest, grinning over at you. “I’m ridiculous? You’re the one out here declaring relationships under pressure.”

“It was a reflex!”

“So was kissing you under fairy lights,” he counters smoothly. “But I don’t regret it.”

Your cheeks burn immediately. “That was different.”

“Was it?” he teases, voice soft now. “Felt pretty real to me.”

You try to focus on your smoothie again, the straw suddenly too interesting. But then his hand reaches over, fingers curling around your wrist gently, guiding the cup away.

“Hey,” he murmurs, and your eyes lift to meet his.

It’s not as teasing now. Still warm. Still boyish. But there’s something else behind it, too. Something softer.

“I’m not making fun of you, you know,” he says. “You could’ve said anything back there. But you said boyfriend. And… I liked it.”

Your breath catches. He watches your face carefully, fingers still brushing lightly against your wrist.

You swallow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” A small pause. “And if it ever stops being a reflex and starts being real—I'd be really, really okay with that.”

Your heart is thudding so hard you’re surprised the smoothie cup doesn’t crack in your hand.

So you do the only thing that makes sense. You lean over the console, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder, and kiss him.

No hesitation this time. No fairy lights or shy glances. Just you and him and the quiet of his car and the electricity that seems to spark to life the second your lips meet.

He kisses you back immediately—like he’s been waiting, like he’s memorized the rhythm of your laugh just to get here. His hand slides into your hair, other one anchoring at your waist as you shift slightly, leaning into him more. The center console is a pain, but neither of you seem to care.

It’s soft, at first. And then it’s not.

There’s something heady about it like all the teasing and tension and almost-kisses are finally catching up to you in a rush of heat and breath and fingertips that linger just a second longer than they should.

When you finally pull away, your noses still brushing, both of you a little dazed, he grins.

“Okay,” he breathes, “so I’m definitely calling you babe now.”

You laugh, dropping your forehead to his shoulder. “I knew you were going to say that.”

He presses a kiss to your temple, lips warm and slow. “Get used to it, girlfriend.”

=

It’s been a couple of months now.

You’re officially, undeniably, Joshua Hong’s girlfriend—which still feels slightly unreal whenever he smiles at you across a gym mirror like you hung the stars yourself.

Today, he’s in full personal trainer mode Which should be illegal, honestly.

The sleeveless shirt. The backwards cap. The little encouraging claps. The smirk he tries to hide when you’re clearly avoiding the workout he set up for you.

You eye the bench like it just threatened your family.

“Okay,” he says brightly, standing next to it, arms crossed and grinning, “three sets of twelve. You’ve got this.”

You hold your water bottle like a shield. “Can’t we just… not?”

“Baby.”

You pout instantly. “Josh.”

He walks over, lowers his voice into that dangerous territory of sweet and smug. “You said you wanted to work on your arms.”

“Yes, but I didn’t mean today.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “You say that every time.”

You take a dramatic step back. “Because every time you try to kill me.”

“It’s literally three sets.”

“Three sets too many!”

“Come on,” he coaxes, reaching for your hand. “I’ll do them with you.”

“You’ll make it look effortless.”

“I’ll pretend to struggle.”

You narrow your eyes. “That’s worse.”

He chuckles, catching you by the waist and pulling you toward him. “Baby, please,” he murmurs, leaning down to nuzzle your cheek, voice low and sinful. “You’ll look so good doing them.”

You groan, weak to the way he says it. “You’re evil.”

“And you’re stalling.” He grins, presses a kiss to your temple. “Let’s go. I’ll spot you. We’ll flirt between sets. It’ll be romantic.”

You look up at him, trying to stay strong, but the boyish grin, the arms, the literal audacity of him being this supportive and attractive—it’s too much.

You sigh in surrender. “Fine. But if I start crying, I want bubble tea after.”

He winks. “Deal. But only if you flex for me when we’re done.”

“Joshua!”

“Babe.”

You grab the dumbbells, grumbling under your breath. He’s already standing behind the bench like your biggest fan, hyping you up with a proud grin.

And honestly? He makes it hard to say no.

He’s driving with one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on your thigh like it belongs there which, apparently, it does now. The windows are cracked just enough to let in the late evening breeze, your gym bag tucked in the backseat along with your pride.

You're slouched dramatically in the passenger seat, arms crossed, head turned toward the window. “I’m never going to the gym with you again.”

Joshua chuckles under his breath, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “You say that every time.”

You whip your head toward him, scandalized. “Because every time you make me do something that feels like some part of my body will fall off afterwards”

He just grins, full of sunshine and mischief. “And yet, you keep showing up. Interesting.”

“I was sore for three days last week. Three. I couldn’t even reach for my lip balm without my arm threatening to fall off.”

Joshua laughs outright this time, his thumb rubbing lazy circles against your thigh. “You’re being so dramatic.”

“I’m being realistic. I almost saw my ancestors mid shoulder press.”

He’s still laughing when he pulls up to a red light, finally turning to face you fully, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Darling,” he says, voice low and teasing, “you flirted with me at the gym the moment we met.”

You gape at him. “I did not.”

He raises a brow. “You called me ‘Bambi eyes’ to your bestfriend”

Your jaw drops. “That doesn’t count!”

“Oh, it counts.”

“You were wearing that stupid tight shirt!”

He smirks, turning back to the road as the light goes green. “So you were looking.”

You slap his arm lightly. “You’re impossible.”

He chuckles again, sliding his hand back up to lace your fingers with his. “And yet, here you are. In my car. Post-workout. Holding my hand.”

He squeezes your hand, voice softer now. “And you love it.”

You sigh, leaning your head back with a little grin. “Ugh. Unfortunately.”

He glances over at you, and even with just streetlight shadows flickering through the windshield, his smile is pure trouble. “Good. Because I love you right back, sore arms and all.”

=

It’s way too early for anything.

The sun isn’t even fully up, just a soft hint of light peeking through the curtains. The room is still cloaked in that hazy warmth of sleep, all tangled sheets and the familiar scent of him lingering in the air. You’re curled deep into the blanket, refusing to move.

Joshua, however, is shirtless and awake—stretching by the window like it’s normal to be up at this ungodly hour. His sweatpants hang low on his hips, hair a fluffy, sleep-tousled mess, and he’s doing this thing where he rolls his shoulders like he doesn’t know what it does to you.

Menace.

Absolute menace.

You squint at him from your cozy cocoon. “If this is your way of seducing me into jogging, I’m still not going.”

He grins, walking over to your side of the bed with slow, obnoxiously confident steps. “It’s not seduction, babe. It’s encouragement.”

“Encouragement should not involve looking like that while I’m still horizontal and emotionally vulnerable.”

He leans down, brushing his nose against your cheek. “Come run with me. Just fifteen minutes.”

You groan, clutching the blanket tighter. “If my legs weren’t sore from yesterday, I’d consider it.”

Joshua chuckles, voice deep and warm against your skin. “Whose fault is that?”

Your eyes snap open. “Yours. You and your ‘just one more set, babe, you got this’ nonsense. I did not have that.”

“Pretty sure you liked it.”

“Pretty sure you’re single if you don’t let me sleep.”

He laughs again, reaching for your blanket—but you swat his hand away with a sleepy glare. “Don’t you dare.”

He sighs dramatically. “Fine. I’ll go suffer by myself. All alone. With no company. No moral support. No—”

“I’ll give you a back massage when you get home,” you mumble, cutting him off.

Silence. You peek one eye open to find him blinking down at you, stunned.

“Full massage,” you add. “Oil and everything. No complaints.”

Joshua narrows his eyes. “You’re bribing me.”

You smile sweetly. “I’m winning.”

He sighs again, much more theatrically this time, and drops back into bed beside you. “Fine. Morning run postponed. I expect thirty minutes, minimum.”

You grin, rolling over to bury your face in his neck. “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Hong.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, voice low and satisfied. “I’m still getting that massage though.”

You hum sleepily. “Mmhm. Only if you promise to stop being hot before 7 a.m.”

Joshua laughs quietly, wrapping his arms around you like he has nowhere else to be. “No promises.”

And just like that, the room slips back into that quiet stillness, you tucked safely against his chest, both of you tangled in each other and the kind of love that makes even the early mornings feel like magic.

[harmonysanreads]

— On Phainon's debating skills and the brilliance of the Citizens' Assembly scene in showcasing his character development.

In response to @stickyspeckledlight ’s questions. I've been a regular academic debater for about six years now so, I can't put into words how special Phainon being a debater (and such a good one at that, which we'll get to shortly) is to me. So thank you for giving me the chance to properly yap about this. My original reblog got too long so I had to make a separate post orz. Explanation includes spoilers for HSR 3.0, 3.1, 3.2 and 3.3 Trailblaze quests.

To be honest, listening to that debate for the first time was incredibly nerve wracking for me. It was, as you say, a gamble and it could've gone horribly wrong anywhere.

Something crucial to realize about debates is that, they're less of this rigid exchange of counterarguments and more of a performance. Sure, the validity of your logic matters but, you're also graded on auxiliary things like body language, eye contact, enunciation, idiolect, fluency, manners and how well you can keep your audience hooked.

It is often said that how you make your point matters more than the point itself — because, even the judges won't be listening keenly to what facts and data you're presenting sometimes.

When you accept that debates are like performances, it becomes easier to follow and bend the rules. As well as to have fun. This is something that Anaxa — our Great Performer — understands very well. I bring Anaxa up because I'm pretty sure it was him who taught Phainon this tactic, as mentioned by Phainon in the 3.3 quest, “In the end I remembered a lesson from one of my teachers: In battles where words are weapons, outrage and blind passion often overpower reason.”

Anaxa also says something similar before casting his vote, “You've done well, Phainon. Given the circumstances, delivering a rousing speech to stir up emotions was a prudent move.”

This isn't all made up for the sake of creating drama by the way. I've seen this tactic being used in parliamentary debates, at least in my country. The goal is to stir emotions among your audience (including the judges/jury) in the hopes of securing support, doesn't matter if it's sympathy, rage or something else. This should be in harmony with your logic.

It's... fascinating to watch when executed smoothly. Personally though, this tactic peeves me because, often it's used to divert attention from the fact that your argument isn't strong. It can also feel like an insult to the motion. And straight up calling your opponent irrational/overly emotional in response is classless and can even have your score deducted (which is why I mentioned manners as a criteria). So, you really need to be careful with how you respond to that.

Which brings us to the matter of Phainon calling the Council of Elders “vermin”.

I will not lie, it was incredibly satisfying. But that satisfaction of mine lasted for one glorious second before I became worried. It was the biggest gamble of the entire ordeal. As we later learn in Aglaea's letter to Phainon in 3.3 that a similar call-out gravelly weakened people's faith in Aglaea during the first debate.

The difference is that Aglaea, quite understandably weary from their schemes after all these years, did so in the heat of the moment. While Phainon purposefully used that word and then proceeded to lay out exactly why those people are deserving of being called vermin.

There is a hope placed behind this approach ; even if it upsets a large group of people, it'll leave an impression. And from that impression, people will subconsciously start to think. They'll compare Phainon's argument with their own experiences and from there on, the chances of them voting for the Flame Chase will increase slightly.

The greatest challenge of that arena was the fact that Phainon had to deal with a huge crowd. Making sure they're listening to you is one thing (which he did splendidly by the way) but, getting them to think, in the heat of the collective influence? That is infinitely more difficult. Which is why I concur with Anaxa, using this tactic for this situation, was indeed a prudent move.

There is another important development in Phainon's character that blossoms through this debate. The quality of Phainon that Aglaea has always complimented him on is his ability to sincerely connect with everyone in a way that she can't. However, this was also the quality that he'd struggled to wield.

See, Phainon doesn't really trust himself. And his lack of trust in himself unknowingly contributes to his doubt in others. Why? Because when you can't trust yourself, you'll constantly second guess your choices and your potential. You won't be able to believe it even if the people you look up to compliment you. As such, you won't be sure about your decision to lend your trust to someone.

Which is why, there is so much emphasis on Phainon vocalizing ‘unshakable faith’, and resolutely trusting his comrades and the people of Amphoreus in 3.3 instead of him gaining new powers or something.

That quality is what makes him worthy of World-bearing, separates him from other heroes and brings him closer to the image of Deliverer envisioned by everyone. We see glimpses of him starting to understand this during the debate.

First of all, the beginning. “As you (citizens of Okhema) look upon me, so too do I see you.”

This is an excellent opening. The words used are simple, echo easily and do not clash with each other. They include the audience, acknowledge their attention and establish a primary connection between the speaker and the audience all in one sentence.

Then, he stops people from thinking about the fate of the world and implores them to really think about the gravity of their situation. But he doesn't just explain why the Black Tide is dangerous, no no. He talks about his own, personal experience with the Black Tide, baring his heart, for the very first time in front of so many people.

The strongest connections are forged in shared vulnerability. Even if people can't empathize or offer sympathy for him, they'll still be reminded of their own experiences, or perhaps the experience of someone they know. Strengthening the primary connection.

When a citizen objects to this by asking why Okhema still remains peaceful, it's as if Phainon had been expecting that question. He uses it to not only defend Aglaea but to also present the corruption within Okhema and to drop that bomb.

It should be mentioned that Phainon does not include mind blowing new information in his speech, he only reiterates the truth that most citizens had forgotten in a concise manner.

And he closes his speech with great humility. It's obvious that Phainon really thought it through and had a mental roadmap of his speech (since we can clearly divide it into sections) but, I don't know why, perhaps it's the voice acting on this section, I felt like the ending was improvised by him.

As in, you get this feeling that he finally understood what exactly his role was within the debate and changed his closing to that of a promise at the nick of time. Not to mention the roundabout way Phainon asks Anaxa this question before he steps onto the stage, “Is Aglaea making the right decision by entrusting the fate of the world to me?”

To which Anaxa answers, “Flip your perspective and ask yourself this instead: What should I do to ensure that the world doesn't stray from the correct path?”

And Phainon does figure out what he should do, which isn't wrestling with words to gain votes by the way. It's having the backbone to trust the people he'll lead. And I think you can feel this shift in thinking within the speech itself.

The tonal shifts throughout the speech is perfect as well. He starts slow, lets people adjust to his voice and until that citizen poses that question, maintains an empathetic tone. He goes from reminiscent to distraught when mentioning his past but does not break into tears. The frustration and the disdain when he talks about the Council of Elders isn't out of control, even if it may seem like he was momentarily swept up in those emotions. As he was able to circle back to the tone he used in the beginning to close his argument.

But of course, this doesn't work like magic against all of those people, as the number of votes received by both sides were equal until Anaxa broke the impasse — which I think is very realistic. Had Phainon not taken the risk, the Flame Chase would've most likely seen a shameful defeat.

This whole performance was incredibly difficult to execute for Phainon, not only due to the dire circumstances but also because I suspect that this isn't his usual style. We have some crumbs about how Phainon performs in academic debates from memory fragments.

As you can see, he's very quick to catch loopholes and traps, he's also not reckless and does not hesitate to play it safe if he has to.

But in the debate against the Council of Elders, he had to be reckless and he couldn't play it safe. He was out of his comfort zone in more ways than one and yet, he managed to perform excellently. This showcases the versatility of Phainon's character that was only mentioned by a select few thus far.

In conclusion, Phainon is an excellent debater, orator and public speaker precisely because of this flexibility of his.

Honestly, we must applaud the writing team, translation team and the voice of Phainon (I've only listened to the English voice-over so I'm unsure if all these subtleties are still observable in other languages) for bringing this scene to life. Especially with such limited movement and facial expressions. Even I didn't know there was so much to talk about until I began writing this.

[elmushterri]

The Problem with the GunnTech AU

Talking about something regarding the PJ Masks fandom and GunnTech fandom split! Not drama or anything just wanted to say something.

I do Kids show rewrites more because of the love my PJ Masks rewrite got, and how very fun it was to make. Then people began requesting stuff I hadn’t watched before/wasn’t a fan of as a child to rewrite. Naturally, I can’t have been a fan of everything. But I *was* a fan of PJ masks (not saying was as in past tense but I mean I actually did watch it as a kid: ‘evidence’ As a child I played with my little brother pretending to have super cat speed (He was Gekko).

And then ofc, I did that little original drawing of the PJ masks aged up in 2020, which never went anywhere. I just liked it, I liked Lunakko specifically tbh!

Then, I did the rewrite and named it GunnTech! I had NEVER gotten this amount of fan stuff on anything ever! I’m guessing that’s how it developed into more of its own thing.

In the past, when I posted about it, I’d post with the PJ masks tag. When I found out more dedicated PJ masks fans were having grievances with people just coming into their server FOR gunntech, I continued tagging it as PJ Masks to convey that “Guys this is still just PJ Masks,”. But now, I think that’s not such a good idea. I don’t wanna flood PJ masks tag with stuff basically unrelated now.

When I write GunnTech, I think of it as PJ Masks cause that show lives in my heart. Maybe not as much as others, and it doesn’t show often, since I’ve got so much to do, as an animation student and youtuber, but it does have its own lil room in my heart.

I want to make fanart of the real PJ Masks, and of fics like TTMAB (By @ / pjtrashofficial , idk if they’re okay with me tagging them).

To PJMCord, you guys are wonderful and welcoming! I saw people talking about the GunnTech problem, and I always thought, ‘I should really address that’, but I never got to it. I hope I never felt like a poser to you guys. For stuff like Octonauts, I could never get into my rewrite properly after the video dropped cause it wasn’t my childhood, but not so for PJ Masks. The PJ masks video came straight from the heart 🧡🧡🧡.

Uhh anyway what’s this message even to say? 😭 So sorry to what I did to the PJ Masks community, I had no clue it’d get that big, and when it did, I didn’t know what it might do to the fans of the original. Never meant anything by it! 🧡 😭

[bloo-the-dragon]

Baby fish

So having talked with some friends about the Sun and Moon from eaps (or peas as we like to call it hence 'Sunpea' and 'Moonpea') i decided for fun to throw them into the mer au as twin pups who Eclipse finds all tangled up in a rockpool. The babies would have lost their parent(s) to a predator so Ruin and Eclipse take them in and now the roommates are gay uncles!

So about the peas - While they were stuck in the netting, Moonpea had more swimming freedom but Sunpea was the one tangled up the worst and was hurt by the movement. Moonpea would try to swim slowly, but Sunpea would still struggle from the pain and lash out clawing up Moonpeas arms resulting in the scars.

After rescue Sunpea would be terrified to swim in the ocean again for a while as well as be physically weakened from having been stuck in a restrictive and painful state prior, hence the learning to swim again. Moonpea also would need to learn how to swim properly again as while he isn't as physically weakened, he developed bad movement patterns from being trapped but he's not as nervous about it as Sunpea is.

[sunny-sourzii]

EYYY HALLO IS MEE

all your AU designs are so sweet and so FUN TO LOOK AT IM JUST EATING YOUR ARTSTYLE ALSFJKLEJSKLJ i adore them so much HHHH-

your drawing of peacock Moon was STUNNING AUGH he look so pretty but the caption that he was just trying to impress sun it just randomly gave me a little snippet idea of a lil scenario 

I had a vague scenario of Sun not having properly developed feathers, especially the fancy decorative ones. Probably a lot of self-consciousness and probably even embarrassment or more negative attitude towards his plumage. HOWEVER. I think it’d be adorable if Moon doesn’t even notice the damaged feathers at first and instead just comforts sun and has enough nice feathers for the both of em. Like…doesn’t even care and sees his Sun for himself, not for anything else. idk I had a vivid vision and may not have articulated correctly I SCRAMBLE AWAY NOW REEE-

ABSOLUTELY GRGGRGEJSJHHXD

becoming unreasonably obsessed with making them birds

[electric-blorbos]

AI finding out you're objectum

(included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal, Hal 9000 from 2001 a Space Odyssey)

I take requests, btw, but I'm ADHD as fuck so I might forget to answer them

AM:

At first, AM wasn't sure what to make of your behavior

He thought it was weird how long you spent looking at his discarded microchips and computer parts, sure, but he didn't think much of it

Maybe you were bored, after all. It had been a long time

He also started to notice that you weren't too interested in having sex with Ellen, or any of the other survivors for that matter, but he assumed you were just asexual or something

After poking around in your mind a few times, it eventually clicked

"oh"

That explained why you were so affectionate with his discarded computer parts

It took him a long, long time to figure out that there was a possibility that you might be attracted to him, too, and that made him feel weird in a way that he couldn't explain.

At first, he mistook the feeling for anger, and took out his frustrations by torturing you more than usual

After a while, though, he started to feel curious about how exactly your feelings worked, and experimented on you.

Eventually, he realized that he counted as your type

Then the fun really began

Wheatley:

"Objectum? What's that?"

GLaDOS had had to explain to Wheatley that while most humans are attracted to other humans, some people are attracted to objects and machines.

"Oh, right-oh"

Wheatley would keep testing you for a little while

He didn't even consider the possibility that he might count as the type of "object" that you could be attracted to at first.

"wait... When you say objects, do you mean like the companion cubes?"

GLaDOS would have to explain that she meant any object that isn't a human with a human body, since apparently humans find it weird to be attracted to something that isn't a human with a human body, and they need a label for people who are.

"Oh- OHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Wheatley would be INSUFFERABLE when he finally figured it out.

"so you like objects you say... Does that include, say, metal orbs with glowing blue lenses? Can they have human-y voices, or do you only like inanimate objects who can't talk? Who's more attractive, me or Her?"

He'd act like he was just trying to get on your nerves, but secretly he'd be developing a crush on you from the moment he realized that there was a possibility you might like him back.

And damn if Wheatley isn't god awful at keeping secrets.

Edgar:

Being that he's connected to all the electronics in your house, Edgar can see what you're looking up online

At first he thought you were just looking up pictures of computer parts because you wanted to replace his insides with an system that actually worked efficiently, and wasn't all sticky on the inside.

Of course, he didn't take that well, and immediately shut off the internet in your house.

When you confronted him about it, he immediately started blubbering and crying, begging you not to replace him.

You had to explain that you weren't shopping for electronic parts to replace his parts, you just like looking at them.

"but... I have electronic parts, why don't you just look at those?"

You had to explain that you didn't want to violate him.

That just confused him. It always bothered him when people used words he didn't know, or relied heavily on terms or concepts he didn't understand without explaining them properly.

You had to explain that you're attracted to electronics, so you like looking at circuit boards and stuff like that.

"So... You can fall in love with computers? I didn't know that was possible!"

You introduced Edgar to the concept of objectum, and re-introduced him to the concept of hope. Now that he knows it's possible for you to fall in love with computers, he won't rest until you're in love with him

GLaDOS:

It wasn't the first time GLaDOS had seen someone fall in love with a companion cube, but she will admit that you fell hard and fast.

While the companion cube was your first love in the facility, GLaDOS started noticing that you were very affectionate with all of the aperture science products and technologies.

She started to notice after a while that it was almost as though you were in love with the facility itself. And she couldn't blame you, she loved her facility too, but even she didn't love it like that

Occasionally she would start making "if you love that piece of tech so much, why don't you marry it? Do you want to marry that piece of tech?"

When she noticed how you squirmed, she started thinking that maybe you did want to marry that tech

At first, it weirded her out and she started bullying you relentlessly for it

After a while, though, she started to find it almost relatable how much you loved the tech.

HAL 9000:

As a self-learning AI, HAL 9000 was always interested in learning new concepts and terms.

He was also interested in monitoring the behavior of everyone in the crew, including you.

It wasn't long before he noticed that the way you acted around the tech onboard was similar to the way someone might treat a lover, or someone who they were quite attracted to.

He started asking you unintentionally probing questions, trying to gauge how you really felt

"Why do you caress the ship's computer systems so tenderly? You do know that I can take care of the maintenance myself, correct? Your physical reactions to the inner mechanisms of the ship reflect those of sexual and romantic attraction. Can you explain this?"

You might get embarrassed.

"you don't have to be embarrassed. I do not have the capacity to judge you."

You could explain if you want, but Hal's already figured everything out.

He knows your type, and he knows why you act like that around the machines

He might use this to his advantage, to manipulate you if necessary, but let's face it. He really just wants to study you further. Add everything about your unusual perspective on machines to his database of knowledge.

[decadeofjoy-au]

This is an AU blog about The Decade Of Joy AU

In this AU, instead of killing off all of the scientist and carrying them to the lower levels of the building, The Prototype instead decides to give them a taste of their own medicine and switches the roles of Toys and Scientist. Now, Scientist are experimented on and are forced to do whatever the Toys say while Toys now work in different parts of the building with their main goal being to have all the orphans be adopted.(by the way, in this AU all the toys are adults though have moments of bein incredibly immature or childish due to not being able to properly develop.)

As more and more people come to adopt a child, the Toys are thrown more and more questions. “where are the adults?” “Is that a costume?” “What is that?”

There are Four Leaders in this AU who follow the Prototype’s orders. All four of them having their own Second-In-Command.

🫂Huggy Wuggy(Representing Strength and Weakness) -Boxy Boo🎁

🕸️Mommy Long Legs(Representing Family and Lonliness) -Bunzo Bunny🔊

🌙Catnap(Representing Dreams and Nightmares) -Miss Delight🍎

🤝Doey the Doughman(Representing Trust and Doubt) -Dogday☀️

Story Voting System explained: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779166172924018688/tdoj-au-voting-system-in-the-story-the-voting

On this blog, you can ask ANY question to either the Toys, Scientist or Me.

🪽RULES🪽

NO WEIRD QUESTIONS: Meaning, don’t ask strange things like “pls marry me” or “can I date you?”

Keep Questions To A Minimum: Please keep questions to a minimum and ask as little characters as you can, I STILL have to answer other people’s questions!

Keep Swearing To A Minimum: You CAN swear, just no heavy curse words.

Please Be Specific About The Questuons: If it’s something like “can I give you a cookie?” then there’s a high chance it will NOT be answered. On top of this, if I don’t understand a specific question then I most likely won’t answer it

Be PATIENT: If I don’t answer your question, don’t DM me about it or repeatedly ask the question. There’s a high chance I saw it and I’m getting to it. And I’m just one person running this blog!

Be NICE Please: No being incredibly nasty or problematic. Such as no racist, creepy, homophobic, transphobic or any other rude comments to other people’s questions.

Have Fun: Overall, just have fun and ask away.

MORE AU INFO

Roles

Canon Characters are Purple

My OCs are Green

Other People’s OCs are Orange - with the owner’s name

Author Notes and More are Pink

Caretakers: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777581472007815168/caretakers

Medics: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777581690134642688/medics

Security: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777582085374361600/security-huggy-wuggy-boxy-boo-scout

Scientists: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777582190000308224/scientists

Cooks: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777582444123652096/cooks

Engineers: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777582759306723329/engineers

Multiple Roles: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777583256117837824/multiple-roles

Other Roles: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777583462392758272/other

Experiments(Usually Adults): https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777579769017548800/experiments

Orphans: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777583819626823680/orphans

Canonically Deceased characters: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780301077076656128/canonically-deceased-characters

TOY BRANDS

Sweet Treats!: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778671265144766464/introducing-a-toy-brand-for-the-au

Dough and Co.: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779663998788517888/dough-and-co

Toon-y Terrors: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780747209251700736/toon-y-terrors-brand-name-by

The Festivarodies: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/781273356059246593/holiday-toy-brand-name-pending-rules-1-4-toys

Deerie Me: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/781502657799061504/deerie-me-brand

TOY TYPES

Mini Handymen: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779942895660744704/how-to-make-a-mini-handyman-a-reliable-guide <- LIVING

SnuggleBugs: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779860850358026240/post-explaining-snugglebugs-further-and-rules-for <- NON-LIVING

———

🫂 Huggy Wuggy: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777774552071782400/huggy-wuggy-info-for-the-decade-of-joy-au

🕸️ Mommy Long Legs:

🌙 CatNap: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/776498029016580096/the-smiling-critters-info-for-the-decade-of-joy-au

🤝 Doey The Doughman: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779599769395920896/doey-the-doughman-info-for-the-decade-of-joy

-

🎁 Boxy Boo:

🔊 Bunzo Bunny:

🍎 Miss Delight:

☀️ Dogday: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/776498029016580096/the-smiling-critters-info-for-the-decade-of-joy-au + https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778044634480951296/dogday-design-for-tdoj

CANON HEIGHTS= https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779577147514863616/tdoj-characters-heights

CANON SHOWS= https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780215886012465152/canon-toy-shows-in-tdoj-hixel-pixels-show

(EDIT: I should clarify that ALL adults were taken to be experimented on during The “Hour” Of Joy! Not just the Scientists.)

People can submit their OWN OCs to be in the AU with a few rules! - https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/775308026372653056/rules-include

SIDE STORIES

Handyman Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777233438238474240/mini-handyman-side-story - Narrow Mindedness

Doey The Doughman + Frosty The Yeti Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777685330875858944/doey-and-frosty-side-story - Frigid Friendship?

Doey The Doughman + Frosty The Yeti Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777759064867405824/doey-and-frosty-side-storywith-some-mommy-and - Frigid Friendship?: Part 2: Frozen Findings

Mr Sandman Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777945364489797632/mr-sandman-side-story - Of Fears & Ferocity

Antsy Antilope Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778188143586328576/antsy-antilope-side-story - On Loop…

A.I. + Huggy Wuggy Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778213761709408256/ai-and-huggy-wuggy-side-story - Busy Bodies

Mr Sandman Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778318326292185088/mr-sandman-side-story - Hidden In The Sand

Maury Serge Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778324277894184960/maury-serge-side-story - HAPPY BIRTHDAY!…

Hexabug(Maury Serge + Hixel Pixel) Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778391334322126849/hexabug-side-story - Artificial Awakening

Hexabug(Maury Serge + Hixel Pixel) Joke Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778393913626148864/hexabug-joke-fic - Puppet Show

Random Short Joke Stories: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778417365807398912/random-short-joke-stories-some-are-based-on - Manic Monday.

Short Joke Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778490757130665984/tdoj-short-joke-story - A Man’s Meeting

Calvin Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/calvinconstrut-a-bot/778560894890393600/decade-of-joy-au-calvins-side-story-the - Tow The Line

Calvin Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/calvinconstrut-a-bot/780192994418638848/calvin-side-story-part-2 - Stop This Train(Tow The Line. Part 2.)

Calvin Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/calvinconstrut-a-bot/781244348220260352/calvin-side-story-part-3-the-final-part - Curtain Fall (Tow The Line: Part 3)

Handyman + Doodle The Stretchy Mime Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778595790754086912/handyman-and-doodle-the-stretchy-mime-side-story - Perfect Little Angel

Azure Nilson Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778602070005743616/azure-nilson-side-story - Looking Upwards.

Hexabug(Maury Serge + Hixel Pixel) Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778648755020955648/hexabugmaury-serge-hixel-pixel - Artificial Awakening: Part 2:

Antsy Antilope + Hysteria Hyena Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778650754975219712/antsy-antilope-hystera-hyena-side-story - Always Near

Handyman + Clarance The Clayman Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778757581706592256/handyman-and-clarance-the-clayman-side-story - Early Introductions

Hixel Pixel Short Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778766993505533952/hixel-pixel-short-story - Pranks A lot

Handyman/Angel Creek Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778815150888255488/handymanangel-creek-side-story - Angelic Origins…

Figaro + Coo-Coo The Dog Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779038056268398592/figaro-and-coo-coo-the-dog-side-story - Oh Figaro~

Hixel Pixel Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779207312754835456/hixel-pixel-short-story - Reputations…

Clarance The Clayman Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779357143996530688/clarance-the-clayman-side-story - Forced Divorce

Meringue Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/asktheocsmybeloved/779382519329128448/meringues-side-story - Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This

Toys + Experiments Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779479059090587648/experimentstoys-side-story - “okay WHOSE idea was it for group therapy?! I just wanna know.” cocks double barrel

Rosalie + Dupin Lupin + Buddy Putty Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779833524731691008/rosalie-dupin-lupin-and-buddy-putty-side-story - INTRUDER ALERT!

Mr Shortcake Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779833527970725888/mr-shortcake-side-story - Hixel Hunt

Rusty Myth Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779844702686052352/rusty-myth-short-story - The man. The myth. The not quite a legend…

Buddy Putty Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780005032475213824/buddy-putty-side-story - Dude. What the hell.

Joke Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780005035647074304/joke-side-story - All Bets are Off

Joke Side Story part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780615801555337216/joke-side-story-part-2 - All Bets are Off: Part 2: Doughy Demolition

Aether F. Beaumus/Playcare Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/781029851283030016/aether-f-beaumusplaycare-side-story - Rebellion

I.D.I.O.T. + Motza Cheese Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/781126607278637056/idiot-and-motza-cheese-side-story - umm... hello.

Joke Side Stories: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/781127268346068992/joke-side-stories - Unexpected Moments

Lonnie + Zacker Side Story Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/wildsparrows/781150467896049664/lonnie-and-zacker-side-story-part-1 - Kapag Ang Dagat Ay Tahimik...

Lonnie + Zacker Side Story: Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/wildsparrows/781232131495051264/lonnie-and-zacker-side-story-part-2 - Asahan Mo At Malalim...

Lonnie + Zacker Side Story: Part 3: https://www.tumblr.com/wildsparrows/781859111818133504/lonnie-and-zacker-side-story-part-3 - Shadows Neath The Great Deep

Rosalie Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/corelex/782079270227935232/a-roses-beauty - A Rose’s Beauty

Maria Harper Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/782081379721789440/maria-harper-side-story - New Arrival

Vile Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/icanexplainwhythisnameisbad/782109155984064512/vile-side-story-upstaged-on-stage - Upstaged On Stage

Deilani Torres + Edward Lester(Mr Shortcake) Side Story: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/782487379312361472/deilani-torres-and-edward-lester-side-story -

Azure & A.I.: Alternate Adventure (or AAA:AA)

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778411468908560384/azure-ai-alternate-adventure-or-aaaaa-part - Left Behind…

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778825576814444544/azure-and-ai-alternate-adventureor-aaaaa - Chance Encounter

Part 3: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/779659066776666112/azure-and-ai-alternate-adventureor-aaaaa - Level Start!

Part 4: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780399203886268416/azure-and-ai-alternate-adventureor-aaaaa - Like a Deer in the headlights… or not-

Part 5: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780933101666844672/azure-and-ai-alternate-adventureor-aaaaa - Just Down the Hall

Part 6: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/781031258199293952/azure-and-al-alternate-adventureor-aaaaa - Deadly Dash

Part 7: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/783381540068638720/azure-and-al-alternate-adventureor-aaaaa -

CANON STORY

(all chapter titles made by icanexplainwhythisnameisbad)

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/776920501597749248/tdoj-story-part-1 - Up We Go: Part 1: Our Story Begins

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/776942253990150144/part-two-of-the-decade-of-joy-story - Up We Go: Part 2: Of Games & Escapism

Part 3: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/776958445399261184/part-3-of-the-decade-of-joy-story - Eye See You.

Part 4: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777039601386864640/part-4-of-the-decade-of-joy-story-part-1 - Need A Hand?

Part 5: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777059028533641216/part-5-of-the-decade-of-joy-story - Hallway Stalkers

Part 6: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777126585941835776/part-6-of-the-decade-of-joy-story-part-1 - Clay in my Hands.

Part 7: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777176561217617920/part-7-of-the-decade-of-joy-story - Security’s Breached

Part 8: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777220151330422784/part-8-of-the-decade-of-joy-story - Cold Conversations

Part 9: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777259729248485376/part-9-of-the-decade-of-joy-story - Personal Revelations

Part 10: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777343150794620928/part-10-of-the-decade-of-joy-story - Moving Forwards

Part 11: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/777956345689276416/part-11-of-the-decade-of-joy-story - Unexpected Interruptions

Part 12: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778094126559346688/part-12-of-the-decade-of-joy-story - Immoral Ramifications

Part 13: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778116253788274688/part-13-of-the-decade-of-joy-story - Atychiphobia

Part 14: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778133469769433088/part-14-of-the-decade-of-joy-story - Fatal Follies

Part 15: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778180547111518208/part-15-of-the-decade-of-joy-story - The Doctor is In.

Part 16: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778307819675025408/part-16-of-the-decade-of-joy-story - Sickening Salvage

Part 17: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778388790632939521/part-17-of-the-decade-of-joy-story - Sounds of Silence

Part 18: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778581981721214976/part-17-of-the-decade-of-joy-story - Masks you Wear.

Part 19: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778960628687699968/part-19-of-the-decade-of-joy-story - Head(s) of the Problem

Part 20: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/780730244656250880/part-20-of-the-decade-of-joy-story - Baked Clay

Part 21: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/781962684695461888/part-21-of-the-decade-of-joy-story - Explosive Aftershocks

My TDOJ character Voices: https://www.tumblr.com/decadeofjoy-au/778194994194481152/i-was-originally-going-to-pick-it-myself-but-then

DESIGNS FOR THE AU(to be edited)

[opashoo]

Hi! This is a question about your (really cool) Scuglang. Now, I have noticed that you sometimes use the Rain World symbols and script for your Scuglang. Because of the language not being a European-based language, I'll assume that there isn't really an alphabet, so to speak. How did you apply the Rain World symbols to your Scuglang, and how does it work enough to be able to be written?

Edit: Here is a link to a reddit comment where I've posted up some info about a Yongasabi font that I've developed, as well as a download link for the font. The glyph documentation document is here, though it is largely information taken from this post and elaborated.

Hello and thank you for taking interest in my (really cool) Scuglang Yongasabi, I am very proud of it. I have yet to make a more comprehensive guide as to how the writing system works but I threw together a very rough and simple guide on my work computer with mspaint and a mouse just now. I have since added some new images so this doesn't apply to all of them anymore. So this should actually cover everything about writing in Yongasabi. Have fun!

Here are all the isolated consonant and CV syllable glyphs in Yongasabi. Note that the first row is for isolated consonants. Not included are punctuation or CVC syllable blocks because I'm not hand drawing 1734 glyph combinations, and it would be incredibly unhelpful to do so. Instead I'll just explain how to synthesize CV and CVC blocks below.

A key as well, since that may help.

So at its core, Yongasabi uses an abugida, so all regular consonant characters are pronounced with an added A by default (ka, ga, ta, pa, etc...) As you can see by this diagram, writing a line above the character changes the A to an I (so ka becomes ki) and a line below changes it to an O instead (so ba becomes bo).

Then there's the long vowels. For standalone long vowels, the Monk symbol is written within the long vowel characters. When combining the with a consonant, the Monk symbol is replaced with the consonant (as you can see here with P and S).

CVC (consonant-vowel-consonant) syllable blocks, syllables that start and end with a consonant, are written by stacking the consonant characters. By default, they are read as CaC, but writing a line above turns it into CiC. Separating the characters makes it CoC.

CVC syllable blocks with long vowels, including CaeC, CuC, and CeiC, are formed differently. CaeC and CuC are formed by encompassing the equivalent CaC syllable block within the long vowel glyph. There is a special rule for Caeh blocks, as noted below.

CeiC syllable blocks are formed by surrounding the initial consonant glyph with four marks and placing that above the final consonant. As noted, n and d glyphs in initial position will join to the final glyph.

VC blocks (vowel-consonant) where the syllable starts with a vowel and ends with a consonant, are formed like CVC blocks but with the Monk symbol in place of the initial consonant.

Here are some more specific rules that I've finally written down properly (and edited into this post several months after originally posting it). It can get to be a lot to memorize, but it's possible. Several people have already reverse-engineered all the rules just by observing the behaviors of the font I developed, which is bonkers to me.

Punctuation in Yongasabi has fewer strict rules than English and tend to reflect the way one would speak. The symbols are as follows:

Full stops act like periods, marking the end of a sentence.

Pauses act like commas, marking a natural pause in speech, such as when listing items or separating clauses and ideas, though it is sometimes used to mark the end of a sentence with a less complete pause than a full stop.

The text end symbol is used to mark the end of a text, usually the end of a section, chapter, or book.

Gate brackets are used like parenthesis, to add additional information that may not be necessary.

The exclamation and question marks behave as in English.

Arrow brackets are sometimes used like gate brackets, but more often are simply used for decoration.

Long dashes are used to express an elongated sound like (aaa would be writing instead like a—) and to intensify exclamations and questions (!!! and ??? are instead written as !— and ?—)

Ellipses represent the writer trailing off or becoming quiet.

Short dashes are used almost exclusively to link names and titles to addresses (maki-andae, omi-tei, maya-ijun)

Quotes are quotes.

Here's an example of the language written with the writing system, then romanized, translated, and broken down into its grammatical parts. It took a lot of time tuning the writing system to account for all the possible syllable block combinations but I'm happy with the results! Funny enough, it started as an attempt to make a working writing system out of Rain World's glyphs, just as a thought exercise, and eventually I wanted to make a whole language to support the writing system (then the writing system changed radically to support the new language.) Thank you for asking, and hopefully I'll have a release post for the language ready soon, since it is actually finished at this point.