#Crafting your self-introduction

[lifes-little-corner]

how to answer tell me about yourself

Walking into a job interview can feel like stepping onto a stage. You have just seven seconds to make a strong first impression1. One of the most common questions you’ll face is, “Tell me about yourself.” It’s not just an icebreaker—it’s your chance to set the tone for the entire conversation. Many candidates struggle with this question. In fact, 75% fail to connect their current role to the job…

[modernquackfare]

How about Simon having a wife that is a toymaker and makes plushies. Wife!reader comes to the base and gives each of the tf 141 a plushie that looks like them. All of them gets one… except Ghost

Needles to say, he’s very upset, all day, that he didn’t get one.

Only when he gets home, he sees plushies of himself and the reader on the bed

A/N: okay omg i'm so so sorry this has taken forever but I've lost my draft three times 😭 luckily i wasn't TOO far along writing/had it copied but HERE U GO <33

Ghost x Fem!Reader - Toymaker Wife

For such a special day, you come prepared. It's the first time you're setting foot on Spec Gru's European base, thanks to your husband's insistence on security and containment—whatever that means. After much begging and many strategically missed video calls, Simon finally extends an invitation.

It's a cold, concrete world, Simon tells you. Nothing like you, love, or so he says. Does he think being a toymaker for work is synonymous with an inability to handle a few more military men than you already have? It's hard to believe that anyone on base could be more threatening or deadly than Simon himself.

Or Ghost, as they call him here. It's a little funny—reminiscent of middle schoolers that roleplay wolves named Luna or Rebel, but he'd have your head if you ever say such a thing, regardless of how true it might be. You've considered making him a wolf-ear headband just to prove a point and laugh at his furrowed expression. You're sure that his friends, those large men and women in the photo he let you keep, would find it equally funny.

"Sergeant Gaz, Captain Price, Sergeant Soap…” You count, knocking each handheld plush into your bag. It feels just a little childish, showing up to a military base with a pack full of toys-but in your defense, they're the product of your profession and adorable. Each is handmade to recreate the likeness of every member of Task Force 141. They'll probably like the gifts, if Simon's description of each's personality is accurate. Soap's boyish charm, Gaz's calm demeanor, and Price's warm, but dry sense of humor—that's something you can work with.

***

"It's—is this a mini me? This is braw, you've nailed it, lass." Soap lifts his plush into the air, as if holding a newborn babe to the sun. "Down to the scars. I'll be."

You can't help the ripple of a laugh when beside him, Gaz similarly examines his miniature self. "Not bad," he breathes, wiggling the doll's arms as if to make it dance. "Not bad at all. What a handsome fellow."

Soap lifts his doll, moving its head as if it were speaking for him in a poor attempt at ventriloquism "Finely crafted, maybe. Handsome? Well, that's up for—"

"Well, pass yours on over then, let's see that Yule log you call a mohawk," Gaz sneers back, matching Soap's doll's movements with his own.

It's a successful introduction, you think! Simon watches on in silence, loving warmth evident in his eyes as he does. He's not dragging you away and shipping you back home, so things must be going well—as silent and distant as he's being.

"Do you like them?” You ask, hands folded in your lap.

Price fidgets with his, admiring the tiny boonie hat that you've included, small strips of Velcro lining the bottom to adhere the hat to the head. "Never thought I'd ever be the owner of my own doll," he murmurs. "Got the hat just right, didn't you? Spot on."

"Aye, but don't leave it lying about," Soap grins, making his doll trot on over and speak in pitched up tones. “That hat of yours might just disappear. I've got hair too, Cap'."

"Yeah, hair that needs covering."

"Oh, bolt, ya dobber."

Amidst the light chatter of your newfound friends in Simon's comrades, you glance over at the man. There your husband stands, arms crossed tight against his chest. He's got that look—definitely pouting under that mask of his, as much as he protests, saying that it isn't pouting, it's brooding. The others seem to take notice of your wandering gaze, though, and suddenly all eyes are on Simon and his very obvious lack of a personalized doll.

"Don't look so solemn, Ghost," Gaz grins cheekily. "You've almost got me feeling bad for you. You're the one with the dollmaker for a wife, mate.

Simon doesn't respond. His dark gaze, gentle brown eyes hardened into rocks, finds Gaz. Shut it, he seems to say without even opening his mouth.

That grey cloud seems to follow him throughout the day. Convivial conversation with his other friends on base falls flat when the spotlight falls on him, his responses limited to a scant "Hmm," or "Uh-huh," or even a quiet look that verges on a glare. He'll pull away when you reach for his hand, casually enough to pass off as an accident or fault of imperceptibility. As if you didn't know him better—that his reflexes and peripheral vision weren't as sharp as blades.

"Stupid anyway," he mumbles to himself, catching your ears. "Stupid toys."

You frown. He knows better than to speak this way—you've discussed it before, about how much you treasured your work and hated having it dismissed by words like stupid and childish. “I don't think they're stupid," you interrupt, never too intimidated to speak up against him.

Simon immediately softens upon realizing that you've heard him. “It's not—that's not what I meant. You know I don't think they're stupid."

Right, but he's acting strange all day. Still, you can't find it within yourself to probe. "Something is, though. Right?"

"The way they play with them,” Simon immediately speaks, shoulders stiff. "Just���grown men, playing like children."

"Ah," you hum. Somehow, you can't bring yourself to believe it—but you don't ask. It's not as if it's even remotely big enough of an issue to need addressing, after all. You just hate to see Simon so withdrawn. At least, more so than usual.

***

Simon is absent from dinner in the mess hall later on, after giving you an extensive tour and dropping you off at one of the on-base cafes. That's how you know something's off. He would never normally give up an opportunity to share a meal with you, even in a noisy, crowded cafeteria like the one on base.

"Wasn't hungry," he only shrugs when you find him in his on-base unit, boots kicked up as he nurses a neat whiskey. Oh, he's pouting.

You can't help yourself. "Aww, baby," you coo, lingering closer. "Are you feeling alright? You've been gloomy all day…"

"Mmph," he shrugs, gaze flickering up to yours—and he can't help how he all but melts at the love in your eyes. "Just…tired. Go'n and get your shower done. Wanna snuggle."

And how could you say no to that? Your growing suspicion had been that Simon was feeling left out, or forgotten, not receiving a doll of his own. Little does he know, you giggle to yourself.

***

You're in the shower when Simon emerges from his brooding, lurching off the couch and trudging towards the room, where he'd made his bed with clean sheets and set up fluffy pillows for his wife's arrival. The bitterness of being left out of her sweet benevolence has largely faded. She is his wife, after all.

He nudges open his bedroom door, set on his dresser to shed the heavy layers of the day, the mask, and finally exist as Simon for the rest of the night. With you. No doll could ever distract him from you.

He's pulling a hoodie over his head when tiny figures catch in the corner of his vision. A hallucination? No. Dolls.

You and him, smiling and snuggled together. You in your favorite sundress, rosy cheeks and cute face. Him in his mask—which is removable, he discovers on closer inspection. Simon gently tugs off the cloth skull mask, curious to see his own likeness rendered in doll form.

"Handsome bugger," he mutters, thumb brushing over his doll's small face. Blond with stern brown eyes, but smiling. Soap was right about the scars—each placed with perfect accuracy. The one extending from the left corner of his lip up his cheek. The one across his eyebrow. You even got the one under his chin, tucked under the plushie's soft, round face.

On the right hands of both dolls, he realizes, there is a hidden circle of Velcro. So they can hold hands in any orientation. It's such a you thing to do that it hurts.

When you emerge from your shower, all three are gathered in the living room, watching TV. Simon with his legs up on the coffee table, and your miniatures holding hands in his lap. It's hard to help the beam that curls up on your lips—and why would you want to?

"Looks like someone's found the kids," you coo, swaying over and plopping down beside him. “I'm glad you like 'em. Did I do you justice?"

"More than," Simon rasps, scooting close, flush against your side. "They're better than that git, Soap's, that's for sure."

His words coax laughter out of you as you press your head to his chest and scoop up the two little toys into your arms. "Careful, Si. They might hear what you said and tell him.”

"They can go on and tell the whole base, for all I care. Your skill went as far as it could go, it's his face that's the problem." Simon snorts, tugging you close and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Better believe I'm showing this one off tomorrow. Might have to keep it in here, though. I'm not risking a theft."

"You say that every time," you laugh, snuggling close and shutting your eyes for the night as he wraps an arm around you—warm, solid, and safely his.

Request Archive

[realmcflurry1]

Tinder mark

Pair: mark Grayson x F!reader

Warning & tags: corny words used?? Slow burn kinda, marks powers lwk cockblocking, nerdy flirtatious mark, fluff

Summary: your love life has been quite lonely awhile trying to look for the right man until you see him.. Mark, 19 on tinder swiping right on him at 2am.

Taglist: @augustsblossom

[A/N] first ever published written work, testing out the waters, nervous but constructive criticism will be accepted🥲. Tried my best into making mark seem like mark I hope you like and enjoy this, debating if I should continue this😭

It was late at night mindlessly swiping on tinder face on the side planted into the pillow one eye barely open until you see him. Photo of his big goofy smile and his brown dreamy eyes holding a mug of some sort of coffee maybe??

Feeling flustered at his appearance unlike other men on here trying to act tough or intimidating no, no, no he’s.. different..kinda nerdy in a absolute cute way

looking down at his name and introduction mark, 19 comic book lover especially seance dog🐶❤️. Without looking further into his introduction scrolling back up inhaling a deep breath smiling your heart absolutely fluttering into your stomach deciding to swipe right as you do dropping the phone to the side shrieking into a ball screaming into the pillow body heat rising as your tired self disappeared calming down minutes later.

Leaving the bedroom, phone on the covers walking downstairs grabbing a cup of water unbeknownst to you mark had messaged.

Mark: what’s a lovely girl like yourself up so late?

Sent 2 minutes ago.

As you finally reach the bedroom rubbing your eyes about to climb into bed sitting on the edge grabbing your phone as your heart skips a beat mark?!? oh god oh GODDD!! Unlocking your phone opening immediately to tinder opening marks message.

You: i can ask you the same thing handsome stranger, ya looking for an adventure? Because if you are you looked in the right place LOL

Smiling at your phone as you lay back in bed waiting for marks response suddenly time seems to be going by slowly when your waiting for something exciting.. thinking deep into thoughts suddenly hearing a commotion down in your apartment near the alley way getting up to check it out as you look scanning suddenly seeing I..invincible carrying the elephant by his..trunk?!?? Your eyes looking in utterly disbelief and confusion but letting out a little laugh then looking at invincible really looking at him in his goggles something about him makes you shudder like you know him but from where?

Finally laying back into bed as you sigh seeing the delivered 8 minutes ago.

Must have fallen asleep.. muttering to yourself placing the phone onto the nightstand closing my eyes drifting away slowly into the abyss until.. TING.. your eyes shooting wide open as you yawn grabbing your phone lazily starring at his message

Mark: I'm not usually one to seek out adventures at this hour but for you then.. yes.

your mouth opens as if you were gonna say something but no words came out a smirk filled your lips as you chuckled at his dummy idiotic response you quickly open your phone typing and responding back

You: well if it isn’t the comic book nerd making a move.. I like that.

Marks pov

Late at night in bed starring at the ceiling both arms behind his head thinking in the moment until he hears a BZZZ his hand immediately grabbing his phone unlocking it pressing the tinder notification starring at your profile his heart sinks at your beauty.. the way you pose in every selfie, breathtaking, stunning, mark feels the heat creeping into his cheeks as he smiles without even knowing.

As they were both a match in arts, mainly arts and crafts for mark some comics the two liked mark gulps hesitantly typing you a message.. as mark messaged you Cecil immediately called him in about the elephant in a sketchy alley.. mark putting on his suit and flying out immediately reaching the destination of the sketchy alley with the elephant.

After dealing with the elephant mark flys home as Cecil on the other line of the earpiece good job kid I’ll keep you updated. Mark finally taking off his suit putting back on boxers from before mumbling to himself good job kid.. I’m not a kid.. sighing as he rolls back into bed groaning grabbing his phone starring at your message his smile immediately pops up opening to tinder messaging you back seeing your response making his lips quiver in excitement

Mark: it’s not everyday you get to see a beauty like you with common interests haha

As you lay down in bed cuddled up in your warm blankets smiling at your screen seeing his message half asleep

You: well thank you it’s nice to know someone finally admires my beauty

Mark: your welcome [Y/N] I adore a girl who knows her beauty

Shrieking In excitement as you let out little giggles about to type back until you see

Typing…

Mark: how about a coffee date this friday by the one near dahlia ave? I’ll be free and we get to know each other more.

Your eyes widen at his message mouth fully smiling as you get startled by something clattering on your balcony deciding to not investigate it (must be a cat) as you thought to yourself

You: this Friday? Heck I can absolutely do it your lucky I’m free haha

Mark let’s out a chuckle as he stares at your message smiling hands hovering over the keyboard deciding what to type

Mark: great don’t be late! it’s nice to go out with a pretty girl comic lover at that to

You: that goes for you to you know mark? LOL

As the night wears on you and mark have talked about each other’s interest where he fully geeked out on seance dog, villains, and traveling as you geeked out on music, art, and paintings etc.

Suddenly looking up at your balcony through the curtains sunlight peeking out damn.. mumbling to yourself as you check the time on your nightstand

5:30

You: well it was fun talking mark but you know I gotta head to bed thank god I have work off..

Mark feels a pang in his chest as he stares at your message frowning but hiding it sighing as he relaxes in his bed his body sinking into his covers

Mark: of course [Y/N] pleasure was all mine honestly. Goodnight and as for work.. I have to work dreadfully if I say so myself..

[iidilio]

𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯?| 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘴!reader| chapter: 01, (you are here)02, 03, 04, 05

[🌸] phew-- you guys give me so much love in the last part, thanks <3 , maybe you don't know but you always give me a lot of energy to continue, thank you, I love you.

Summary: Perhaps the most important question is not; "How did you end up in this place?". it is; will you be able to finish the unfinished business that your self from this world left pending?.

...

..

.

The man took another sip of the steaming tea that resided in his hands, "I searched for you like crazy as soon as I first received your call."

You straightened up; however, you did not speak despite your desire to do so. Laura was sitting next to you.

When the man suddenly appeared at the door, the first thing he said was to know why you were in this place, and of course you were surprised by his words.

He had politely asked to speak to you, which you reluctantly agreed to. Laura, on the other hand, had offered to make some tea for the three of you to drink while you talked.

This man's appearance was so strange and unkempt, yet so... familiar, you vaguely wondered where you had seen him before.

"This is probably too sudden for you", he said, without showing any sign of discomfort at your lack of response. He put the small china cup down on the living room table, then pointed at your new old friend, "Does she have to be here?"

You knitted your eyebrows at her unappreciated words. You opened your mouth to reply before he interrupted, "No, forget it. I just remembered what happened last time I asked you that".

You were speechless; what did he mean by 'last time'...?

"Sorry, did we know each other before?", you asked, completely confused. "You speak as if we have known each other for a long time..."

The man frowned at your words: "Oh, right, you're not her".

"Her?" you murmured. You were so confused; did he think you were someone else or...?

He sighed while frowning a bit. His action and expressions were unexpected for you, but to be honest, it was more like he was mentally preparing himself for what he was going to say next: "How much do you know about other dimensions?".

"I...", what did you know? Only what was necessary, that was for sure. I mean, there was never a question like that on a math or physics test in high school. Goodness, it wasn't even a regular topic of conversation.

The man spoke again, not letting you finish your thoughts he murmured your name, "That's your name, right? I guess your last name is not 'Wayne', that would be too much of a coincidence'.

Wayne? Like the last name of that fictional character from the comics? You were going to ask him what he meant when the realization of what he said first hit you, you hadn't even told him your name yet, "How...?"

"So even names don't change in other dimensions," he said to himself without looking at your face. Then the man snorted; it sounded like an almost graceless muffled laugh. When he calmed down, he looked into your eyes. His look was serious— too serious, a little chill ran down your spine from the intensity of his look. "You are in another dimension... one where you died."

"What?" He was joking, right?

The man sighed, almost as if he were preparing himself for what he was about to say, "You were Bruce Wayne's adopted daughter".

As soon as the man finished speaking, you had enough. "Is this a joke!? Do you think it's funny that—?", Laura's warm hand on yours stopped you in the middle of your tirade. You turned to see her confused, only to see her surprised? She looked as if she had realized something.

Why did Laura see you that way? You could feel that your head was about to explode from everything that was happening. This was all too much; it couldn't be real. It was just impossible. This had to be a very well-crafted joke.

The man called out to you once more. "I didn't introduce myself, right?", he sighed in amusement and then raised his hand for you to shake in introduction mode, "You from this dimension probably would be scolding me for my bad manners. I'm John Constantine".

...

You saw the man's back walking away, his hands inside his coat. When he was a good distance away, he turned to you, "If you need anything, don't hesitate to contact me".

You squeezed the special card he had given you while you nodded vigorously, and then watched with complete surprise how what you assumed was a portal opened and then disappeared with John inside. None of this felt real, you were still taking in what happened an hour ago.

'I'm in another dimension', you thought as you, still very nervous, looked at the news magazine in which on the front page was reported about how the "justice league" managed to successfully catch the "injustice league" who threatened to destroy the entire city of Manhattan.

You knelt down, moving and reviewing different magazines from earlier dates that had different characters as protagonists, some better known than others. There was one of the "teen titans", a magazine that perfectly framed "Superman" flying through the sky to catch a plane with more than two hundred passengers on board that was going down.

You rummaged and moved more magazines until you got to the oldest news. One page featured Wonder Woman in particular as the protagonist of a march for Women's Day. Another page featured Flash, who was named the fastest human being alive. Even one of Aquaman gave an interview on how he managed to clean up the oceans by ninety percent.

There were some from Gotham that you were afraid to see for some reason. 'Is what he told me true?'

You sighed, tired; all this was giving you a migraine. 'Of all the possible things that could have happened to me, it had to be the worst...'

...

A sudden knock on the door startled you.

'Is it John?', was what you thought at first. It had been a few days since you last saw John, and the talk you had with him still weighed heavily on your mind.

.

.

.

"I suggest you come with me", he tried to convince you, but he stopped when he saw your distrustful look, "or maybe I could take you to Bruce", he retracted as he raised his hands a little.

"Why?" you inquired uneasily.

"You'll be safer this way", he explained as he got up from the chair. It didn't take long for you to copy his action, "Are you coming?".

Should you really do it? Was it really safe to go with him? If everything he told you was true, then the world waiting for you outside wasn't safe at all, and you knew it. You weren't foolish at all; you were sure that even John couldn't protect you at all times.

What would happen to Laura? Would she be okay?

John, seeing your indecisive state, hums, "Though- this place is good". He spoke, taking his eyes off of you.

You looked up from the fixed point that you were looking at without realizing it, "huh?"

He just nodded to himself and then looked at you, "I mean, this place isn't safe, it's a small town, but no one would think of looking for anything of value in this place", he explained as he gave you a small but warm smile, albeit something very inside you told you that smile was not really directed at you.

.

.

.

The second wave of knocks on the door took you out of your memories. You were about to get up to open the door when Laura suddenly appeared, waving you to stay in your place, which you obeyed.

"Are you sure that she is here?", it was a woman's voice, getting up from the soft chair, you headed towards the door.

You heard John's sudden voice, though it sounded like he was trying to defend himself, perhaps from some assumption, "Trust me, Zatanna is this house, I'm absolutely sure".

"It's better to be careful after last time-", the mockery in her voice trailed off as you stood in front of the door. She was a young woman, her eyes were a pretty blue, she had beautiful black hair that cascaded down her back; and next to her was John.

"See, what did I tell you?" John exclaimed triumphantly, ignoring the stunned woman next to him. "Hey , how's it going-?", the question hung in the air as the woman took a step towards you.

Laura, who was still standing in the same place, gave the black-haired woman enough space to pass. The soft touch of the female's hands on your face made you pay all your attention to her. Her eyes looked sad as she stared into yours, "You're not the same persona I used to know, are you?"

"I...", it wasn't even necessary for you to say anything else, she understood what you meant.

"I see, I understand. My name is Zatanna Zatara," she explained as she slowly moved her hands away from you, almost as if she didn't want to leave your person.

You felt bad for the woman in front of you.

...

:> Would you give me some love by squishing the heart below? Also tell me your thoughts, you can do it in this post or write it in my inbox!

[obsidian-pages777]

Pick a Card: Your upcoming revenge arc [jennifer's body theme]

Left to Right= Pile 1->Pile 3

Introduction

If You Liked This Reading Sign up to TheObsidianPages777 Newsletter

+Free E-Guides on New Moon Manifestation and Gem Stone for Life Path

This is a sweet reading on how you will have your- come up- in your future life journey. Enjoy!

Pile 1

Past: Three of Pentacles

This card suggests a period of collaboration and hard work. You've been dedicated to your craft, honing your skills, and working well with others to achieve a common goal. You might have had challenges with regards to career developments. Maybe it is something out of your control that caused this. You have been undermined regarding your skills because of this.

Present: Knight of Pentacles

Currently, you're in a phase of steady progress. The Knight of Pentacles represents diligence, responsibility, and persistence. You're putting in the necessary effort and staying focused on your long-term goals.

Future: The World

This card signifies completion, achievement, and fulfillment. Your efforts in career development will pay off, leading to a sense of accomplishment and the opening of new opportunities. You will feel a sense of a massive boost to your self esteem when you achieve success in this one career goal or project that you are working on. You will receive a public accolade in terms of career and you will feel confident in yourself and your skills.

================================================================================================

Pile 2

Past: Ten of Swords

This card indicates a painful ending, likely a betrayal or significant emotional hurt. It represents the culmination of a difficult period, leaving you feeling wounded but also marking the end of this chapter. A specific person or people might have caused you a lot of pain and you might have felt betrayed and disrespected.

Present: The Star

In the present, The Star brings hope, healing, and renewal. You're finding inspiration and regaining your sense of self. This card suggests a time of recovery and the beginning of new possibilities. You have created a new sense of self and managed to continue to create a beautiful environment for yourself. You are magnetizing good luck right now.

Future: The World

The World represents new beginnings and adventures and the closing of a past cycle. Moving on from your past relationship will open you up to fresh experiences and opportunities. Embrace the journey ahead with a sense of optimism and curiosity. Since you are creating an end of an era in terms of your previous relationships and life, you are opening yourself up to new a timeline. This new space created for yourself is a whole 180 turn in comparison to how you were living before. Get ready!

================================================================================================

Pile 3

Past: Five of Swords

This card represents conflict and discord. You may have experienced misunderstandings or felt undermined by those close to you, leading to tension and isolation. Discord in terms of family and friends might have caused you a lot of turmoil.

Present: Two of Cups

The Two of Cups signifies harmony, partnership, and mutual understanding. You're currently in a phase of reconciliation, rebuilding trust, and strengthening your relationships with family and friends. You are learning to build relationships up while taking accountability for how you behave. You might be trying to allow people in your life to understand you better. It might not be easy currently.

Future: Ten of Cups

This card is the epitome of emotional fulfillment and harmony in relationships. Your efforts to connect deeper with loved ones will result in lasting happiness and a renewed sense of community and support. Despite things not being easy to get to that state, you would still get there as you would be making calculated communicative efforts. You will rebuild yourself and the life around you to a better level. You will receive a sense of appreciation from those around you. Your actions will be filled with purpose as well.

If You Liked This Reading Sign up to TheObsidianPages777 Newsletter

+Free E-Guides on New Moon Manifestation and Gem Stone for Life Path

[quinngefail]

Um. So

Wanted to do an inverse of that last drawing set, and the initial plan was for this one to also have an overall goofy tone. But I couldn't think of ways to spin humor into this one (save for the last image) given what I wanted to touch on, so...

I guess here's some divulgence of my post-bathroom-trap Lawrence characterization, but with a weird juxtaposition between Writing and Visuals because I still ended up using the Little Guy art style HRKGKG...

And same as Adam's post, if my writing is difficult to read, it's all in text form in the image descriptions! ^_^

I feel rather self-conscious about this one overall. But y’know, fuck it man. We're posting it regardless

More thoughts under the cut:

So basically... In my mind's eye, this is a man who has developed an extremely guilty conscious following the bathroom trap, and is now hyper aware of the consequences of his actions. He's been separated from his family, and is desperately determined not to fail anyone else; something that especially applies to Adam, and their relationship in general. And despite Adam having long forgiven him for what happened in the bathroom trap and making it very clear that 'I don't hate you, I could never hate you', Lawrence just cannot internalize this, and constantly has this 'it's the least I can do for you after everything I've done' sort of mentality towards far too many things in regards to Adam.

While also having serious bouts of that whole "You're just manipulating him so you can get your cheap validation and feel good about yourself-"

I'll elaborate more when I write my full thoughts out because there is SO MUCH MORE I could talk about but. FOR NOW THIS IS AN INTRODUCTION TO MY SICK AND TWISTED BRAINROT 🙌

Okay and like the overall tone on Adam's drawing set may have indeed been more goofy, but DON'T GET IT TWISTED that is not my perpetual approach to the way I think about + want to depict his struggles and all that. It was just certainly easier to throw comedy into his pieces lmao. And I've also got a whole lot more to elaborate on with him and his 20 million issues </3

And then lastly!! With the final image it's like I IMAGINE LAWRENCE DOESN'T GET AS CAUGHT UP IN BEING EMBARRASSED OVER BEING ROMANTICALLY CHEESY AND SHIT but y’know. Sometimes you're saying "what's cookin', good lookin'," to your boyfriend with no problem. But other times your brain crafts up "MI ADAM-ORE" and you just have to take a step back after actually going through with saying that one. And have your moment of regretting your every life choice. Y’know

Once they both realize + embrace how cringe + cheesy + corny they truly are. It'll be all over

That's all lol thank you for reading 👉👈

[the-s1lly-corner]

Part of their Family (Slender mansion x Reader Chapter 1)

something something... finally getting into writing that interactive longfic ive been wanting to do for a few months! not every chapter, but hopefully a lot of chances at the end of a chapter for you guys to determine what the reader does next! this will be crossposted on ao3 as well, so readers there will also have an influence on what choices the reader makes! you guys only get one shot, not going to bother with creating a whole tree network to do several routes... so make your choice count! notes: gn human reader, youre kind of going through it, youve only been here a week and you dont really wanna stay, THIS CHAPTER HAS A CHOICE TO BE MADE AT THE END, mostly an introduction chapter... STATE YOUR CHOICE IN THE COMMENTS! Word count: 4.7k CWs: general expected topics, blood and death even if its not as intense as itll be later one

This was wrong in every sense of the word. 

Not only should you not be alive right now, but you shouldn’t be lying here in a bed that wasn’t yours last week. The mattress was still covered in basic bedding- black with grey accented comforters. Pillows that were too soft- unused- and covered in plain black cases. The room barely looked lived in. Except… that wasn’t entirely true. Tiny holes where nails and thumbtacks once held postered and pictures showed a vague past of someone living here before you. Where they had gone, however… 

Your hands feel uncomfortably warm as they drag over your face in an attempt to force the dizziness from your eyes as your blurred gaze tries to map out the texture of the ceiling in an attempt to self soothe. It did nothing for you. 

The transition of running with screaming sirens and blasting lights tailing you into the woods- to the tense but otherwise calmer atmosphere that took place just downstairs… it all blurred together- and if you hadn’t just seen the residents of this place nearly everyday for the past week you’d have thought they were all a twisted concoction crafted by your brain as it melted in its stew of adrenaline and stress. You couldn’t even recall what you managed to say to not get jumped by everyone in the living room. Only the Lord knew that- knives and claws still hung in the back of your mind. The hours following were a blur.

You were shown up to your “new room”, and given names to tack onto faces… names you still struggled to recall. 

A place where killers- human and monster- found shelter. It wasn’t a home. The pieces of information you managed to snag onto on your hundredth attempt to backtrack offered you that much. 

People came. People left. Some stayed long term, some making it their permanent home- some mansion in the middle of the woods. How it hadn’t been discovered by outsiders wasn’t brushed on as far as you could recall. The odds of you finding it while stumbling around in the dark were still greater than the odds of you bullshitting your way into making them believe you were just like them.

The limp hand by your head still had dried blood stuck under your nails. You hadn’t had the will to pick the flakes out. Just looking at the brownish red buildup made your skin crawl. 

You were just like them, even if for just a moment. 

Finally with a strangled huff you shove yourself up off of the bed and trudged to the bathroom connected to your- no, not your room- the room. Inside was just as plain as the bedroom was. There was no personalization, and only the bare minimum was there. Hygiene products and towels- no brands were visible. In fact there were zero labels on any of the bottles… and you’ve yet to take the time to figure out what was what. You had cornered yourself in the room for the past seven days to go over what your next plan was. The only time you left was to briefly scope out the mansion’s layout- doing your best to avoid being spotted by its residents. 

The water is turned all the way to the left to heat it- steam fogging the mirror in front of you. Maybe that was for the best- you didn’t look like yourself. Your eyes were sunken and held dark circles under them, and you were in desperate need for a shower. Food was the last thing on your mind, and sitting down at the table with… everyone… didn’t sit right with you. The heat of the water doesn’t fully register as you tuck your fingers under the faucet- what was hopefully soap squeezed onto your hand… It felt very much like lotion instead. The lack of lather and bubbles confirmed that. Not that you fully noticed.

The mix up was the least of your worries as you worked your nails under each other to pick the blood out- scraping them against the inside of your palm to at least try to work the not-soap underneath. 

You couldn’t stay here, but you couldn’t leave either. The moment you stepped into town you’d be caught. The surrounding towns probably weren’t safe, either… not to mention in the heat of everything you left everything behind. Not just your life, but your possessions as well. You silently cursed your town for not having a proper bus system. At least then you could have put some quick distance between here and literally anywhere else. 

The scratching of your nails against your palm intensified near to tearing through your skin- you probably would have ripped your hand right open if it weren’t for the sudden sharp knock on the bedroom’s door. 

Two quick knocks… a pause, and then a third knock. 

Whatever was put on your hands was rinsed away under the water. A quick survey of your nails revealed that you only got a little more than half the gunk out from under them. 

That’s all it was now- gunk. Your hands nearly froze against the cooler air as you shook the remaining droplets off of you. With still damp hands you run them through your hair to at least try to make it… neater. 

Initially convincing everyone in this house that you were a killer on the loose like them was one thing. It was the truth, afterall.

But convincing them that it was something you wanted and aimed for was a totally different thing. Most weren’t nosy enough to ask for the details. But a particular pair of men seemed to want all the details. A burned man, and a clown- their names currently escaping you. 

Their eagerness was enough to instantly turn you away. No effort was made on your end to run into them- despite the clown’s continuous efforts to stop you by the door to interrogate you on your favorite candies. 

The pile of which still sat untouched at a small desk set up in the corner. 

Another quick series of knocks pulls you out of your current stream of thoughts.

Your hand moves forward to the knob- dampened skin sticking slightly to the curve of it. The grip shifts and the sound of flesh pulling away a split second later… only slightly drowned out against the dull settling of the building. Someone was moving on the other side of the door judging by the soft creak of the wooden floor. With clenching teeth you draw in a slow breath- and a halfhearted attempt to relax your jaw that failed- and pull the door open. 

The burned man stood on the other side- and even with a face that struggled to convey intended emotions… he looked irritated. The fact he didn’t pound on your door like he had the other morning when he was sent to fetch you for breakfast was a surprise that slipped right past you. Unlike you, he looked like he had just woken up. The gashes in his cheek showed his jaw was just as tense as yours as his teeth grinded together. 

“‘Bout fuckin time,” He hissed- nearly clicking his teeth together as he side stepped. His sunken eyes darted across your weary frame. “You look like shit.” 

The distorted nostrils that stretched across his face flexed. “You smell like shit.” He muttered as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his black sweats. 

You grit your teeth and force a smile. Even though he was probably right, there was something in the way he looked at you that irked you. 

“Morning to you too-” You trail off. What was his name again?

It started with a J- at least… you think it did. There were multiple people with names that start with J.

James? Jay? John? 

“-Jim,” You spit out before the pause dragged out for too long. The man’s teeth clicked again to form a scoff as his face scrunched as best as it could. 

“You think you’re fuckin funny huh?” He hissed as he turned on his heel and began to sulk off to the stairs down the hall. “It’s Jeff,” He added- nearly barking over his shoulder. He wasn’t going to wait for you to follow. It seemed that he had already just about done what he was sent to do. He mutters something under his breath- before speaking up again. “Food’s downstairs.” 

Jeff.

Right. 

Jeff stomps down the stairs. 

You shift the awkward lump around in your throat- and hope that following after an already angry killer wouldn’t draw attention to you. 

It did. 

At least, your presence itself drew attention. You hadn’t actually come downstairs to the table to eat with everyone else yet. If you could you would skip this meal just to stay away but hunger can push people to do things they wouldn’t normally do… maybe a meal could cure the brain fog currently plaguing your mind- and as soon as you were recovered you could come up with a plan. A real plan. 

The chatter at the table dies for a moment before slowly picking back up. 

Thirteen people sat at the table. Fourteen plates were set across it. There were two empty spaces. 

An empty seat roughly in the middle between the massive clown- who’s plate was overflowing with candy- and Jeff already glaring down into his food as he made work on his breakfast. Sitting across was…

Helen you believed. The name in particular sticking thanks to it being, at least in your mind, nontraditional for a man. His plate caught your eye. Almost arranged in the same way as food influencers on your phone’s feed set their meals. 

In an odd way you missed endlessly scrolling the internet and watching the world turn to shit. You missed seeing people cook eggs for their ramen and arrange the bowl nicely for the camera. You never got the chance to do that despite saving countless videos on a phone that was now God knows where. 

The other spare seat was towards the lower end- at the very end actually. Your neighbors would have been a masked woman who didn’t partake in any of the table’s conversation… and a tall lanky creature in a polka dotted suit; who was currently cutting up pancakes for the little girl who would be sitting across from you. 

Sally. You remembered her name too. It was hard to forget her after she nearly hounded you- running as fast as her short legs could carry her- the second she saw you leave your room one evening to map out the mansions layout. She wanted to play a game- and was more than a little disappointed when you rejected her.

You almost felt… bad. Staring at the back of her cracked head made your guts twist in a sad sort of way. Killer or not, she had to have been here for a reason. 

“EJ’s not coming down again?” Someone piped up- her face carried scars nearly identical to Jeffs. Her singular visible eye fixed right on you- a quick smile was flashed your way- before her gaze darted around you. 

“Said he’s not hungry.” Jeff grumbled through a mouthful of egg. No further questioning on the missing party. 

The creature cutting Sally’s pancakes turned to you- a quiet thank you from the girl reminding you that his name was Splendor. 

“Why don’t you sit next to me this morning, Dear?”

Splendor’s voice was warm and carried a sort of softness to it. A stark contrast to the growl Jeff had served you with just a minute ago…and you’d rather sit next to the eight foot tall cryptid than him at the moment. Splendor’s mouth widened as you took a half step towards him- followed by another. Delaying your short journey to the table would only draw attention. 

“I’m glad you’ve decided to join us this morning, you must be starving,” He commented as you pulled your chair close to the table.

Everyone else had already served themselves. Most had regular morning meals consisting of eggs and a meat side of some sort. Potatoes and berries. Cereal and milk were set on the table as well as slices of toast and various spreads. Juices and water were available as well. 

You couldn’t help it. You were taken aback from the sheer variety in front of you. How and where they got the food couldn’t even begin to be fathomed. Everything looked so fresh- and just like the bottles in the bathroom, the items that were still in packaging had no real labels or brands slapped onto them. It looked almost too cartoonishly generic- like it had just spawned in. 

The sudden sickly churn of your stomach demanded that you finally put something in it. 

“Slenderman didn’t know how you liked your eggs so you get scrambled like me!” Sally suddenly piped up as Splendor presented a small bowl of said eggs to you. 

Your eyes dart to the faceless man seated at the head of the table. He had no plate set in front of him. Even just looking at him made your head feel fuzzy. Your eyes are torn back to the eggs. 

“If they don’t like eggs I can always spare ‘em some candy,” The clown snickered between sharp teeth. 

“I don’t know how you can stand eating so much sugar… I know that’s like your thing Jack, but,” A goggle wearing man cut in. Nina plucked a purple wrapped candy from Jack’s plate. The goggled man made a face. 

You silently take the eggs from Splendor to rid him of the burden of hovering the bowl in the air in front of you. The chatter is tuned out as you build a plate for yourself. Eggs. Some fruit. Water, of course. Your tongue stuck uncomfortably to the walls of your mouth. Splendor was more than eager to fetch whatever you had eyed for more than a few seconds. A word of thanks clunkily fell from your lips as he served you. 

All things considered, as long as you ignored the odd appearances of everyone at the table… the moment felt normal. Groggy small talk of those who had just woken up floats lazily through the air as plans for the day are made. Silverware clinks against glass plates and cups clack to the table- save for the light plastic one that Sally held. 

“You didn’t bring Ben down?” The goggled man asked Jeff. 

Toby. That’s what his name was… maybe… Just Toby. Jeff adjusted his grip around the fork in his hand… and got a little too annoyed when the piece of egg hanging on fell back onto his plate. “Nah, he’s sulking that I beat him last night. Not that he can eat so. Whatever.” He grunted as he stabbed the fork back into his egg. Toby hummed slightly before shifting around the shredded hashbrowns on his plate… drowned in syrup. 

“Well if he’s feeling d-down to it later I can do a round with him later,” He paused as he slapped the back of his fork to the potatoes. “Think he’d throw a tantrum if I win?”

A snort comes from Jeff. 

The food was… nice. You had to admit it, even if you weren’t currently biting back your hunger induced nausea. Everything tasted as fresh as it looked. The water felt refreshing as it slid down your dry cracked throat. 

“Maybe we can play a-after I come back from…” Toby flicked his eyes to Slenderman. The air felt like it thickened for a second. Both the creature and Toby stayed still for a second. “It’s just a walk through to make sure no one’s m-messing around, shouldn’t take too long,” He added after a few seconds. The two masked men next to him shifted slightly. 

One in white, and the other in black. Both having not said a word as far as your eavesdropping could tell. “What game were you thinking?” Jeff pushed his plate an inch forward as he decided fighting with his food while he was already pissy wasn’t worth it. 

The sliding of the glass was covered by the sudden excited gasp of Sally. Her tiny hands patted the table as she stretched forward towards you, fingers spread out as her giant bright green eyes fixed right onto you. 

“You said we’d play another day-!” Her eyes widened in an attempt to give you her best puppy dog eyes. “And it’s another day now-”

“Sally,” Splendor scolded gently. “They’re still adjusting,” 

You open your mouth slightly before closing it. Several eyes flick to you and suddenly felt like you’d be an asshole if you rejected the little girl in front of everyone. The fork is gripped tighter in your tensing fingers as you force your eyes down to your partially eaten meal. 

For a room full of killers, everything was far more casual than you’d thought it’d be. So much more… domestic and normal. Your insides suddenly felt like they were squirming against your outsides. It was all so familiar already that it felt wrong. 

“Maybe I’ll think about it after I take a shower,” You mumbled as you stuff a strawberry through your tense jaws. Its bright sweetness only forced the tension in your mouth further before the taste of it died back. Sally’s hands returned to their light tapping as she bounced slightly in her seat in excitement at the prospect of having a brand new playmate. 

“You look like you really need that shower,” Jack snickered as he crunched his sharp teeth against the hard candy- shattering the pieces of sugar with ease. “Might need a whole new wardrobe too,”

He…

Actually had a point. You’d been given a spare outfit or two from one of the other residents. A loose t-shirt and some pants. Nothing special, and whoever the owner was was probably waiting for you to return the items to them. The clothing you had arrived to the mansion in were already returned to you after being thoroughly washed by Splendor. 

“I tried my best to get the worse stains out, my brother is better at mending clothes than I am,” He had sheepishly admitted through a soft half hearted chuckle a few nights after you arrived. 

Your leg bounced under the table. Clothing shouldn’t be an issue- you had no reason to stay here for as long as possible… unless…

Would you have to stay and lay low for a while? The fork is twirled in your fingers before you put it to the plate and shifted the food around. 

“Don’t worry about that for now, if you plan on staying I can always write to my brother to come over and whip something up for you,” Splendor lightly tapped his finger against the table in thought. The movement of his black claw brought the lack of his plate to your attention- just like Slender. Your eyes flicked to the faceless thing. 

Were they… related? 

You can’t bring yourself to stare for more than a few seconds. Back to staring at your plate for you. 

The conversation around you continued without your input. 

“We can paint together after breakfast, Sally,” Helen spoke up as he too pushed his plate in front of him. In an instant the little girl ripped her lingering stare off of you and faced the man as he pulled his mask back over his mouth. “After you finish your food of course,” He added. 

Toby was the first to stand up from the table with his plate in hand. “Welp,” 

The two masked men at his side also stood up mimicking his actions. Both still remain silent… but the feel of one of them staring at you burns right through your body even as you try to keep your eyes on your half eaten toast. 

“May as well go- go out and pick out anyone who decided to camp out here last night,” Toby’s eyes landed on you. “You got our work cut out for us,” He teased.

The man in the white mask made a soft barely noticeable noise… almost like an agreement. “Loads of people have been coming in trying to find you- must’ve really did something messy to draw so much attention,” He snickered. 

“You still owe me a story on that…” Jack leaned your way. His silver spiraled eyes piercing right through you. His smile looked… friendly, or at least it tried to be against the intensity of it and the teeth. “I’ll give you more candy if it’ll sweeten you up to me,” He added with a snicker.

He seemed to constantly be on the verge of bursting into laughter. 

“You’re already spoiling them Jack,” One of the men at the table finally broke his silence. He too also did not have a plate in front of him. His eyes and mouth glowed a faint gold… and even with the dead grey of his skin something about him seemed so deeply off… despite being otherwise human looking. He almost looked wooden. You swear you saw grooves between the joints of his fingers as they drummed against the table. His grin matches the clown’s. 

“You’re just jealous you ain’t gonna be getting any of my stash once you leave,” Jack shot back. 

“I’m a man with plans,” The fingers cease their movements for a moment. “But I’ll be back,” 

“Well. I’ll be sure you get some candy for the road!” Jack pushed himself up from the table quickly- nearly knocking his chair to the floor. He lowered from his tiptoes and scooped the rest of his candy from his plate and set it in front of the other. “There! I’ll be back with more,” 

The girl who had asked about an EJ piped up. “I’ll take the sour ones if you don’t want ‘em Pup,” 

She glanced at you. “You like sour ones too?” 

You don’t even get the chance to process that she was talking to you before Toby and the two masked men leave the room. “We’re headin o-out,” 

Toby’s eyes landed on you again. “If you want, you c-can join me and Jeff when I come back-”

You glanced to Jeff… at least now that he was more awake and partly fed he didn’t seem as angry with the world. “Nina you coming with?” 

Nina- the girl who had asked you the question- leaned back in her chair and rocked it. “Maybe… think I’ll go on a snack run… I’m running low on my stash… speaking of- who wants anything? Jane?” She leaned towards the woman sitting next to you.

“I’ll pass.” She muttered as she stood up and brought her plate to the sink and started to clean it. 

You tune out Splendor insisting she didn’t need to clean up and turn your attention to Nina as she demands it again. “I could bring you with me- I mean you’ve been like… cooped up all week. You’re worse than EJ I think… I don’t mind waiting for you to shower first,” She offered. 

“Show you around outside too?” She added. 

Jack snorted. “Like there’s any point in that anyway,” He commented. Nina only rolled her eyes at the clown. 

“Could bring some snacks to Sally’s little playdate, too,” Nina added under her breath as she jerked her head slightly to the little girl as she practically dragged Helen out of the room. Splendor quietly excused himself to join the pair… at some point “Pup” had also left the room- leaving just you, Nina, Jeff, Jack and Slender. 

Your plate was still somewhat filled with food but you couldn’t bring yourself to continue to eat. The weight of your current position settles itself into your gut. The brief sense of normalcy rapidly escaping you as the air around your head suddenly feels thicker- heavier. 

Slenderman’s faceless head had shifted to angle itself towards you. If he was trying to speak, no words broke through the air. At least… not the air itself. 

It was like a rolling buzz ringing throughout your skull. The voice was smooth as it weaved right through you from somewhere. 

The sensation felt so foreign your body tensed up in an immediate response of fear against the simple words spoken. 

“You look tired,” 

That’s all he said for a few seconds. Before he pressed on.

“Leave your plate, I will handle it.” 

Your face scrunched. Even with the mention of Slender being the one who made breakfast the offer to clean up after you felt strange coming from something that only slightly looked human. Your feet shift against the wooden floor as you rise to your feet. The remains of your hunger were killed and the feel of the clothing you were borrowing sticking to your body became all too obvious at once. You must have smelled awful and for a fleeting moment you felt bad for those around you. 

A glance is spared for Nina as she awaits your answer. The edges of your vision blurred against whatever hold Slenderman had on you… even as it rapidly slipped from you. 

“I’ll… think about it while I’m cleaning myself up…” You mumbled through teeth that suddenly felt dirty. You faintly recall seeing a toothbrush neatly set aside for you in the bathroom when you were cleaning your nails. 

Nina’s mouth pulled into a large smile. 

“I’ll try to wait then… at least for a bit! Might leave around noon if you decide not to come with… just come to my door before then- hard to miss, on the same floor as your room,” She brushed a hand through her hair as she stood to her feet. “Lemme just,” She pulled your plate away from you- only hesitating until you gave her a nod of approval. “I’ll just take this,” 

“By the by if you need anything like- soap or stuff I can grab something for you while I’m out if you don’t wanna come with- anything you prefer? Scents ‘n stuff?” 

You only shrug. “Anything works,” 

You shift your weight between your feet before turning to the doorway. “See you later, maybe,” You added awkwardly as you made your way out of the kitchen. A quick glance showed that Jack and Pup had made themselves comfortable on the couch in the living room. The former offered you a wide wave that you half heartedly returned as you slinked upstairs. 

The moment the door to the bedroom closed you ran a hand across your tired face for the second time today. 

Whether you liked it or not this was going to be your home for a while. At least until you were able to find something else to do. Getting caught by the law wasn’t a favorable option, but neither was staying in the murder house. The floorboards creak softly under you as you pace for a few seconds. 

The best option you had was to bide your time- and the residents likely weren’t going to let you keep to yourself for much longer. 

The door to the wooden wardrobe in your room was opened… next to nothing inside save for the clothing Splendor had cleaned for you, and the second borrowed outfit. Your hand goes for your own clothing first… and tossed half haphazardly to the bed. It's not long after that you’ve ushered yourself into the shower and fiddle around with the bottles to determine what was what. 

Conditioner, Shampoo, and body wash in three different bottles. 

As you work through the knots in your hair under the water you weigh your options for the day.

Nina had offered to take you out to town… but going out could be risky. 

You had made a half promise to Sally to play with her later- but maybe you could get out of it if Splendor and Helen were entertaining her. 

Toby had also offered you to hang out with Jeff and.. Ben… who you haven’t had the chance to meet yet. 

But of course, you could simply stick in your room for the day… or perhaps simply make a break for it and throw all caution to the wind. If you got caught by the police, then that’d be that. 

Those were your only real options. The question was: what would you decide to do?

[lambilegs]

SEEP THROUGH THE GROOVES AND CALLUSES OF MY FINGERS (LEE HARKER X READER)

✴︎・contains: contains: bodyguard!lee harker, mentions of violence, reader is a little bit of a spoiled brat, no nsfw content (but, there will be in part two), slowburn af, smoking, reader's body is referred to with the term "breasts," reader's eating habits monitored by parents, overbearing and strict mother

soundtrack: falling - jin and taka; small talk - MALIA; her - the american dawn; crush - ethel cain; 505 - arctic monkeys; sarah smiles - panic! at the disco

divider by: @/daddldee

tag list: @abbysunderwear (to anyone interested, comment if you wanna be tagged for pt. 2 <3)

When your parents told you that you would have your own bodyguard assigned to you, you envisioned someone larger than life. Someone like one of those people in the movies – huge, strapping, a beacon of light and strength in the midst of chaos and troubled times. A soldier, a fighter, someone wound up with veins of thrumming strength and a body of bulging muscles.

Instead, you got Lee Harker. Lee Harker, who looks less like a boulder of strength you can use to protect yourself with, and more like a lithe shadow who can quietly slither into the shadows upon a moment’s notice. She’s quiet, unassuming and will barely even look at you the first time you two are introduced. The most she gifts you with is a small, pointed nod, eyes briefly flicking up to you, wide and doe-like, before shifting back down, eyeing your boots. 

During the introduction, confined to your family home’s library, you stare at your parents imploringly, eyes wide with the question – Her? This is the woman meant to protect you from threats, from harm, from scars and bruises? She is the person whose graceful hands will extract self-reliance from your sense of safety, while being entrusted with the whole of it? You don’t know how you feel about this. If it’s even safe, really. 

When you bring this up to them privately, your father’s words nearly spark an eye roll from you. Discretion is a necessity here. She won’t draw attention. You know he’s right, but still, he could be a bit more understanding of your concerns considering it’s your safety and wellbeing hanging in the balance. But, you probably shouldn’t push. He already seems to be feeling guilty enough as is, based on the purchasing of your favourite for dinner and the way his gaze skitters around before meeting yours. You can read him like a book, and frankly, these pages are scrawled with one word: Regret.

You’re certain that when your parents began running a museum, known for its politically charged and controversial pieces, they didn’t expect that their family would one day be under threat for it. After all, art is just the tangible evidence of thoughts and feelings pre-existing. How could anyone fault them for giving home to a piece that contains the thoughts people are thinking, anyways? How could an art piece, nothing but a physically crafted image, only made to mean something because of thought and society, be a threat to someone important as a senator?

Clearly, you underestimated the power of your parents’ profession too much. For on opening night of the newest exhibition, a bullet when zooming between you and your father’s bodies, barely grazing your shoulder and teasing out a warm, thin stream of blood. You had immediately dropped in shock, your body frozen on the ground as chaos erupted through the room, people flapping about and wailing, flutters of fabric and smacking of skin mixing into the commotion and sending your head spinning. 

The person in question had been detained, of course. But, your parents had been convinced that it was only a matter of time since another event like this occurred. Hence the hiring and arrival of Lee Harker.

You’re not exactly fond of this idea. It feels stifling, to know that there’ll be someone always lingering on the sidelines, eyes on you and watching your actions, close enough to hear your words. It’ll add a heaviness to every interaction with your friends, and drain almost every private moment of its peace. You don’t want it. And what worsens it is that you never got to mentally prepare for it. Without your permission or okay, your parents had thrusted the idea on you one day, without asking for your opinion, and by the next morning, they announced they had found someone and intended to bring her over today.

“Just talk to her,” your father whispers with quiet urging. “See if she seems nice, and if you feel comfortable.”

You sigh, eyes flicking to where Lee is on the opposite end of the library, eyes roving over a shelf of books and thumbing along the spine of one. She’s totally ignoring your mother, who is standing nearby, wringing her hands together as she seems to be tentatively asking some questions and attempting a conversation. Your lips nearly crack at the sight, finding a twisted sort of satisfaction in the scene.

“I’ll talk to her.”

You two are left alone in the library, sitting on either end of the wooden coffee table. On an automatic instinct, you nearly flop into the velvet, plush sofa on one end. But, then you see how Lee neatly sits on the opposite side of the table on the wooden chair, legs pressed in and hands folded in her lap, her posture impeccable. And so, you lower yourself carefully, trying to match at least a twinge of the grace and rigidity her body possesses. 

Now that you two are alone, you expect something, anything, of her. A friendly chat, a careful greeting, maybe even a handshake. But, no. She seems utterly content in the silence, eyes focused on the table, a sort of glazed look in her eyes, as though her consciousness has been seized by a dream that she’s weak to resist.  

Eventually, it gets too much for you, your body on its fifth shift from pure discomfort in the unsettling silence. 

“Hey, so, um, my parents are kind of new to this whole bodyguard thing. So, like, what exactly does it entail?” Just to somewhat lighten the mood, you crack a smile and drawl out, “Is it like the movies?”

“Um, no, not at all.”

You shakily laugh in response to her tentative response, eyes flicking down to how her hands squeeze and twirl together before she proceeds, not once meeting your eyes. “It’s not as… intense as films make it out to be. It’s a lot more practical. Checking over venues and locations you’ll visit, remaining nearby to ensure everything is safe. Making reports, looking over clients’ connections.”

“Like, my connections?”

“You’re the client, so yes.”

Your eyes flicker about, reeling from the news. “So, you know about my friends and that kind of stuff…?”

“Friends, relatives, um…” she trails off, her dark eyes flashing up at you before moving back down, “ex-partners.”

You feel your face warm at the revelation, wondering just how much she was able to discover in all those capacities. “Yeah, that must’ve been a, uh, rollercoaster.”

“I’ve seen worse.”

“Yeah?” You decide to prod at the opening, hoping it’ll make way for more light-hearted conversation. Maybe all of this could be a lot more bearable if the two of you can be friends. “Who’s been your worst client?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.” 

“Oh.” Okay, well that’s that, you suppose. In a way, you should be comforted, since this shows that she won’t ever expose your own secrets to some future client. But, still, you wish she would let up a little. Once you found out that she was near your age, you thought this meant the two of you could fall into a friendly, comfortable dynamic. But, based on her stiff body language and flat tone, you doubt that’ll be happening soon.

“I understand these conditions aren’t great. But, I’ll try to give you your space. And, um, keep you safe.” The last words are said with some small pauses, as though it’s embarrassing for her to admit the goal of her job. At least, the one that sounds a bit more intimate. God, why did your mind go there? Now, you, too, are thinking of the meaningfulness of her words, and it’s making an acute sense of bashfulness worm its way through you.

As well as a comfort, too. Despite how serious and levelled she is, she’s now staring right at you with a fixed jaw and bright eyes, determination laced into every twitch. She seems to truly intend to secure your safety, and is even willing to give you the privacy you need so it’s not too stifling. Despite the tight ball of discomfort still webbed into your guts, knowing she cares enough about your privacy to remark upon it makes a tiny flutter spread its wings and fly past the confines of anxiety.

In other words, it makes you feel comfortable. And the more you look at her, the better it feels that she actually isn’t a brawling man who looks like he can snap you in half in half a second. It makes her feel more approachable, more easy to be around.

With a sigh, you make your decision. You’ll give your father your okay for her.

–

“I just want you to be careful, alright?”

“I know, Mom,” Lee sighs, her fingers rasping along her thigh. She’s suddenly regretting having told her mom the new number. But, anything else wasn’t an option – she knew her mom would be terrified if Lee suddenly dropped off the face of the Earth for two months. 

“You did your research on the family, right?”

“I did.” She pauses, mentally running through the week of looking through newspaper clippings and magazines. “They seem… normal.”

Her mother pauses for a few seconds, the silence lingering between them thick, before saying, “What did you find?”

“I–I can’t tell you, Mom,” she mutters, part of her paranoid that you can hear her. “It’s not allowed.”

A flicker of nervousness is set alit in Lee when her mom releases a resounding hum. After more silent passes, she says, “I gotta go, but I’ll call you later, okay?”

That’s not the truth. Lee, in fact, has nothing to do.

Except wander around her new bedroom for a half hour and just… observe. She’s not used to a space with this level of decor, filled with trinkets that serve no purpose other than looking nice. Even the knobs of the dresser are fancier than anything she possesses at her cottage, which is nothing but solid, neutral colours and objects that fulfill nothing but necessity. The idea of clutter is a bit too close to home for comfort. But, at the very least, this bedroom isn’t packed with it to the point of overwhelming her, so that’s a silver lining. 

She strokes her thumb along an empty picture frame, filled with ornate graves swirling through the metal. The bedroom is impersonal, too. No frames are filled, all the trinkets are generic and have no personality attached. To Lee, it seems to be a room made to make guests feel comfortable, while still having the detachment of reminding her that she’s a guest here. 

It’s her first time with this kind of assignment. She’s never had to actually merge her life this deeply to a client’s before, and she’d be lying if she said it didn't make her uncomfortable. She doesn’t enjoy socializing, and has been lucky enough to work with people who only needed her presence when it came to travelling or certain outings. She’s never been in such close quarters like this before, and it’s already unsettling for her to be away from her home and in a stranger’s house.

Nor does she enjoy the idea of being so physically close to a client. While some people would assume her job entails long-lasting bonds or connections with some of America’s most elite, that couldn’t be farther from the truth. She took her work seriously, and she had no intention of ever letting personal feelings or friendships cause her to become distracted or emotionally invested in a way that could distract her from the hard logic and procedure involved in ensuring her clients’ safety. 

But, then, again, it had been easy in the past. Most of her clients hadn’t seemed all too interested in pursuing a bond with her, anyways. At least, not after they saw how resistant she was to it. She didn’t come to work to talk and bond, she came simply to protect as best as she could. 

She’s broken out of her thoughts when she hears the padding of footsteps in the bedroom next to hers. Because, yes, in addition to moving in, your parents had stationed you in a bedroom that shares a wall with hers. Probably why your footsteps sound fast, antsy. That room isn’t yours, so you must feel uncomfortable in a way not so different from her current position. 

You seem alright, so far. She feels a twinge of embarrassment now due to her rejecting your request to divulge information on her past clients. But, she couldn’t – her own sense of promise wouldn’t allow it. Yet, still, the more she reflected on the interaction, the more convinced she became that you had probably intended that question as an olive branch of sorts. Something to crack the hard ice of unfamiliarity between you two. It’s a tad uncomfortable now to know that she shut you down an offer of freer conversation on it without realizing it. Then, again, even if she had figured it out on her own, she still would’ve steered away from that line of discussion. But, maybe, she would’ve done it with a bit more grace – or at least, however much of that she possesses. 

You don’t seem totally comfortable with the idea of a bodyguard, either. Not that Lee could blame you – she, and her mom, have never been in a financial position to afford one, and the idea itself feels like an absurd, faraway one. But, if in some alternative world, her mother had been able to get one for Lee, Lee probably would’ve despised it. Being forced to spend so much time with a stranger? No privacy, constantly watched over? It sounds like downright torture. It makes Lee feel a twinge of guilt for any clients like you, who clearly had no say in having a bodyguard and were rather subjected to it by paranoid or rightfully frightened parents. She knows what it’s like to have a parent’s control be used as justification for stifling, and she’s painfully aware of the fact that it incites feelings of annoyance over safety most of the time. That’s why she tries her best to give her clients, especially the ones who had no say, the liberty of physical space when she can.

An added bonus is the fact that it means she doesn’t need to provide any breadcrumbs of company that she can manage.

–

The first outing Lee attends with you is a hangout with your friend, and you know what? Something you totally undermined was just how self-conscious you’d be at having a stranger follow you along. Nervous, sure. Uncomfortable, absolutely. But, her presence has a string of insecure thoughts flaring in your head. Will she judge you for your cafe choice? Does she think you walk too slow? Will she judge the way you laugh boisterously with your friend, or how you joke about the filthiest things? The possibilities of a stranger’s judgement are endless, and so is your heightened anticipation of it, it seems. And it’s only worsened by the fact that Lee’s attention is sharp, so crisp, like a whistling gust of wind on a winter day. And so, it makes you all the more aware of your own actions. Even when her eyes are downcast, you can feel her listening to your voice, and every small stumble of your breath or words.

When you reach the cafe, you seat yourselves at the table together while waiting for your friend. Lee, unlike your guys’ first meeting, is clad in a plain, dark red hoodie and sweats, her brown hair tied up. To anyone else, she’d look totally unassuming, but you know that underneath the loose garbs is a gun latched to her hip. 

“Will you get something?” you ask idly, eyes scanning the menu scrawled onto the blackboard behind the counter. 

“Probably. It’d look odd if I was sitting on my own without a drink.”

“Sitting on your own?” you inquire, eyebrows scrunched together. “You won’t stay with us?”

“No, I’ll sit a bit behind.”

“Why?”

Her mouth twitches at the corner, eyes trained on the table. “I told you I’d give you your privacy. I’m only interested in your safety, not your private conversations.”

You know the sentiment ought to be assuring, but her lack of interest in your personal life has you feeling a twinge of offense. Does she have so little curiosity about you or your life? Does it bear such little significance for her outside of her job?

“Okay,” you trail off, eyes searching through the cafe, your body suddenly tightening in longing for your friend to just finally get here. “So, drink – which will you get?”

“Just a coffee.” Her fingertips rasp along the table’s surface for a few moments before she sighs and mutters, “And you?”

“Just a coffee too.”

She gives her a short nod, standing from her place and wordlessly heading to the counter. You watch her in stunned disbelief, not having expected her to actually get your drink for you. But, there she is, meeting your bewildered gaze with a blank slate of an expression before turning to the front, eyes languidly stroking the chalk streaks on the board. You’ve never seen someone with a gaze as focused and pointed as hers. Eyes like a hazel-tinged candle, they glow under the dim light of the cafe, framed by lovely, gracefully curled lashes that give her the resemblance of a doe. And they don’t seem to miss a thing, tracing over every shape and curve of the cafe, carefully observing every inch. 

When her gaze suddenly shifts to you, you immediately duck your head down, a nauseating stream of embarrassment unfolding within you. God, you hope she doesn’t think you’re into her or something. If she’s investigated your past relationships, she must be aware of the fact that you’re into women. She doesn’t seem cocky, but you can’t help but worry over what it’d entail if she thought you were attracted to her. Not that you are. Well, not really. She’s pretty – very pretty, and that’s for certain. But, that’s not the same as really liking a person, you know it isn’t.

Your stream of thoughts are interrupted with her setting down both mugs on your table, her soft voice immediately kissing your ears with the question, “How do you take yours?”

When you answer on instinct, you swallow when she silently retrieves sugars and milk before tending to yours first, then proceeding to dunk two sugars and milk into hers.

“Thank you – you didn’t have to–”

“It’s fine,” she interjects, gently pushing the mug towards you. 

Your fingers hug it carefully, leaning down to blow on it, the brown liquid fluttering in ripples. After one too many moments of silence, you straighten up and ask, “So, what made you get into this line of work?”

Her head reels back in a short-lived motion when you speak, as though she’s surprised you actually spoke to her. Her eyes skip to yours before lowering to the table, her jaw working as she seems to mull over your question. 

Finally, she says in a hushed voice, “To do what I can to keep people safe.”

You nod slowly, admiration burning its way through you, slow and warm. It’s an honourable desire, to be sure, and to feel it so intimately that you actually pursue a job out of it is impressive. “Well, I mean, why bodyguard in particular?”

“I, um… I guess I just think it would help to give people a direct sense of safety. So that they don’t have to feel unsafe in their own residence or day-to-day life.”

You find your chin naturally resting upon the opening of your palm, sinking into her quiet, but endlessly earnest words. She doesn’t exaggerate, she doesn’t flourish. She simply states her intent, true and to-the-point. And what’s left is a very considerate reason for a job you can imagine is quite gruelling and pressure-filled. All done for the sake of helping others. It reveals a depth to her you honestly hadn’t anticipated with how little she speaks – but, in a way, it makes her even more impressive. She doesn’t care to flaunt her kindness, and even now, seems partially embarrassed at admitting her mindset to you – in addition to everything, she’s very willingly humble. Impressive, indeed.

“That’s really nice, actually,” you mutter, picking at a napkin, feeling a bit bashful to compliment her since she herself seemed so reluctant to reveal her good heart. “I mean, yeah – I just, that’s really decent of you.”

She hums, giving you a tight nod. Your lips twitch at the sight – oh, yeah, she’s for sure uncomfortable with praise. 

“And, you – do you, um, want to work in art?” she asks, taking a slow sip of her coffee.

You blink in surprise, not having expected her to actually ask you anything back. But, based on how forced the question sounds, the words stifled and unnatural, you highly doubt she’d be posing the question unless truly interested..

But, still, just as she was polite enough to answer your question, you’ll do the same. And so, you linger on the question, rolling it around your mind before saying, “Well, I don’t know. It sounds nice, to pursue it, keep it in the family. But, I don’t know, my parents have always considered art a statement, rather than something to do for idle enjoyment. They’re not the hugest fans of my sketches that are really, you know, fuck all.”

Growing up with attending exhibitions and galleries, it’s only natural that you had grown to develop a reliance on art that fulfilled both an admiration of aesthetics and a desire to express. But, your parents didn’t hold the highest approval for the kind of art you did — casual, something for the sake of relaxation. They insisted that if it couldn’t be made into something more meaningful, like a career or form of protest, it was essentially pointless. A harsh take, you know, but learning it early into your childhood had allowed you to cultivate a modicum of peace through keeping your works private from then on.

You burn in embarrassment as Lee seems to mull over the words, her eyes flickering about the cafe, hoping she doesn’t see your hobbies as unserious as your own parents do.

“I mean, I think art is one of those things that can be done for any reason. Because, you know, it comes from the want to make something. And I feel like that want can come from… anything, right?” she quietly completes, bright eyes raising to you as though she’s seeking your approval. 

But, she doesn’t need it. For those simple words have already secured your good opinion, and you watch her silently before smiling and muttering, “Yeah, I mean, it has no bounds. Art is involved with emotions, and part of emotional territory is there being no linear cause-and-effect.”

“Probably why I tend to stay away from it.”

That jolts a loud laugh from you. “Awe, really? You never had an artistic streak?”

The corner of her mouth turns up, and you nearly laugh harder in surprise at the sight of the near-smile. “When I was younger. I used to draw. And photograph.”

“What made you stop?”

“Busier. More responsibilities.” She shrugs, the gesture only half-hearted. “It happens.”

“Don’t you miss it, though?”

A small, almost wounded noise comes from the back of her throat and you immediately feel a stab of empathy for her. It’s always uniquely tragic, to slowly watch a beloved hobby shatter and slip through your fingers like sand, aching to catch it from completely disappearing, but duty and obligation tugging on your elbows, holding you back so all you can do is passively watch it happen.

“I do.”

Suddenly, you feel this inexplicable urge to do something for her. You’re not sure if it’s out of a sense of obligation or gratitude in exchange for all she’s done for you, or simply a natural instinct from seeing a soft, malleable opening in her, one that looks like it needs tending. But, still, you go with your gut and say, “You know, if you’re gonna be stuck with me for three months, we might as well make it fun for you, too. Why don’t we, you know, have a drawing night together?”

Her eyes widen, mouth flapping open and close before she says, “A drawing night?”

“Yeah, you know, we can just draw stuff together.”

“I’m probably bad at it now.”

“And you know what would help with that?” You lean in conspiringly, cupped hand raised to your mouth. “Drawing.”

This time, an entire smile splits over her face, and it’s your turn to splutter, suddenly at a loss when she says, “I’m not sure if it’s professional of us to spend time together like that.”

It takes you a few moments to fully absorb her words, your entire face hot and steaming from the sight of her pearly teeth flashing at and nearly blinding you. They’re so shiny, bigger than you thought, and they’re like some hidden treasure she keeps diligently enclosed in the cave of her mouth. Her mouth, which has such smooth, pink lips, and tiny, sprinkling dents at the corner. Laugh lines — Lee has laugh lines. It shouldn’t feel like such a weighty revelation, since it really isn’t. But, it feels like one. 

When you finally register the words, your stomach stings with acute humiliation. “I— why?”

“Because we’re technically employer and employee.”

The description, flatly said, makes you deflate slightly, your shoulders sagging. You hadn’t thought of it in that way, for it sure doesn’t feel like an employer-employee. Sure, she was hired by your parents, but you don’t really see yourself as reigning over any sense of control or possession of her. If anything, she’s the one who calls the shots if you’re ever in danger, and if she ever does, you know you’ll obey without a second thought. But, even that facet isn’t a part of your guys’ bond you’re particularly lingering on when the two of you speak like this — casually, as equals, as, perhaps reluctant, friends.

“I mean, I don’t know how many employees live with their employers,” you shakily laugh, hoping to soothe any tension she may feel. Because suddenly, the idea of never being able to have that drawing night with her makes your stomach drop. Maybe you’re just as your mom says, unable to not get your way, maybe you really are spoiled. Or maybe this interaction just ended up being way more enjoyable than you had anticipated.

“Maids, butlers, stable workers, governesses—”

“And now, you know what I mean,” you cut in, rolling your eyes. “Also, governesses? I’m sorry, are we in the nineteenth century?”

“You know what I mean,” she replies dryly, mouth quirking up as she takes a sip of her coffee.

You can’t help but erupt into a giggle from her newfound humour. “Okay, well, still — if you’re gonna be living with me and spending time with me 24/7, we might as well make something out of it.”

She still seems hesitant, mouth twisting in thoughtfulness. “I don’t know. I keep things professional with clients.”

“Fine, you can keep the suit and gun on during it, if that’ll help?” you drawl with a smile, crossing your arms over the table. You try to play it cool, but inside, a desperate patch in you is itching for her to give it some satiation by just saying yes.

She shoots you a narrowed look, shaking her head slightly before sighing. “I’ll think about it.”

Your stubbornness urges you to insist more on the subject until she finally buckles, but you know it won’t feel good at all if she says yes because you pushed her on it, or worse, because she wanted to do something for her… employer. You nearly wince at the word.

“Fine, fine, okay. Just let me know when you decide, okay?”

“Mm, don’t worry, I know where you live.”

You laugh, nearly hitting her wrist in affection, but pull your hand back right before you can. But, doing so does cause your gaze to rest upon her hand, which you immediately note is long, very long, with hard veins that bulge out, her nails short and perfectly cut. 

“What is it?”

You snap out of your partial reverence, your stomach flipping for the umpteenth time today. “Oh— nothing. Your watch is just nice.”

Dark, bold eyebrows furrowing, she looks at her watch momentarily before raising her head back to you in clear curiosity. 

“Well, I…” you trail off, eyes wandering about the cafe. Anywhere but her, really.

“Did you not see me in the line, man?” 

You nearly jump out of the seat at your friend’s voice, her succeeding laughter of satisfaction immediately rising in your ears, her palm coming down on your shoulder in greeting.

“Hi,” you say, your voice sounding a bit too high-pitched for your liking. From the corner of your eye, you can see Lee grabbing her wallet and coffee cup, rising from her seat.

Your hand reaches out, fingertips just barely grabbing onto the plush material of her hoodie. “Lee, it’s okay, you can—“

“No, no, it’s fine,” she murmurs, giving your friend a small nod before slinking away to a corner of the cafe. The sight might’ve been comedic if it weren’t for the surprising sense of longing you feel from her departing form.

“So, that’s her, huh?” your friend whispers, eyebrows wagging as she sets down a sandwich between you two. “She seems serious.”

“Not really,” you murmur, feeling a petulant sense of missing her prickling at your stomach. When you notice her side of the plate doesn’t possess the larger cut, you turn it around, adding, “She’s actually pretty nice.”

You try not to, you really do, but you can’t resist it, your eyes slowly roving along the cafe until they land on her figure. You hiss in surprise when you find her eyes already on you, your head immediately swivelling around.

“Smooth,” your friend dryly remarks.

“Shut up.”

Besides, there’s no reason you ought to be surprised at her already watching you. In all direct terms and meanings, she’s paid to watch over you. She’s paid to ensure she protects you. Knowing that should make you feel well-rested and safe, but it only leaves you with an uneasy pit.

Because now, suddenly, you’re wondering what it’d be like to be under her gaze just because she wants you there.

—

Footsteps suddenly pass by  the door as Lee is lifting her weights in her room, her breathing laboured and teeth gritted hard together as she feels the strain in her biceps. She looks to her right, the door next to her bedroom, the one leading to yours, clicking softly. 

She bites her lip, her thoughts running through her mind in a flash. She doesn’t want to stifle you by following you around or anything like that, but it’s more than odd to hear you up and about at this time. It’s 11:00PM. 10:00PM is usually the time you settle into bed, since she always hears the creaks from her end of the wall. And in the hours she stays up afterwards, she never hears you depart from your bedroom.

Deciding to trust her instincts, as she always does, she trods to the door quickly, tugging it open and quietly calling out your name.

You whirl around, your eyes bulging out, lips parted slightly. You glance around the hall before padding over to her, hands twisting into the hanging sleeves of your hoodie. “Yeah?”

Finally under the light hanging in the center of the hallway, Lee carefully takes in your dark under eyes and the pink rims curved along your lashes. She may not be the best at assessing emotion, but she knows the telltale signs of crying when she sees them.

“You okay?” she asks, a wedge of discomfort holding her back from asking the question softly. It feels too vulnerable.

Your eyes flicker over her figure, and Lee straightens up, suddenly cognizant of her state of undress, clad in nothing but a white tank top and sweatpants. It’s the most casual you’ve ever seen her, her usually neat, sleek ponytail lying limp at her back, sweat plastering her bangs to her forehead. When your gaze lingers on her collarbone, she swallows hard, your gaze suddenly feeling like it weighs a ton. It makes her hyper fixate on the spot, which tingles under your lingering stare.

And, painfully, thinking of your observations of her body causes her own eyes to flicker down. When she sees your stiffened nipples poking through the fabric of your hoodie, she feels her face flush, hot and burning. She really did not need to see that. 

She’s not the most accustomed to, nor comfortable with, the inner workings of other people’s bodies, especially more intimate parts. Like breasts. And she really, really should not be thinking about the breasts of a client. 

She clears her throat, trying to reign you both back into the conversation.

Your head flinches, and you say quietly, “I, um– yeah. I’m okay. I just…”

Her head tilts at you, quietly awaiting.

“I’m hungry. And I wanted some stuff from the convenience store.”

She feels her eyebrows furrow. Okay, well, she hadn’t expected that – honestly, since she had heard your footsteps, the worst case scenarios had occupied the back of her mind. To hear something so tame causes a wash of relief to pour down her body and she can feel her body loosen at the revelation. 

“You should’ve come to me first. It’s not safe for you to go out at this time.” 

You frown, and she feels a prickle of anxiety at the sight, hoping she didn’t overstep. “Yeah, I know. I just felt bad to wake you at this time. And I–I don’t know, I just wanted time to myself.”

“I understand.” More than she could express in two words, honestly. Solitude was a space she had been encompassing since she was a child, leaving a warm dent that she could always easily slot herself into after work. The only family she has is her mother, and the friends she has are spare and ones she can only see occasionally due to the nature of her work. It’s a life she’s comfortable with, for she’s never been one for company or socializing, really. Every now and then, there’ll be the rare evening where the silence feels too loud and the buzzing of the television isn’t enough to fill it. But, she tries to avoid lingering too long on them.

“But, I’m guessing you have to come with me now, right?”

Lee internally winces at the resignation in your voice, a part of her wondering if her company is that undesirable to you. She immediately stomps out the thought – you’re a client, not a friend, and therefore, how pleasurable you find her presence to be shouldn’t be a concern on her mind. She’s here to keep you safe and devote herself to your physical wellbeing, not be someone fun or enjoyable you want to come back to. Besides, it’s not like Lee has ever been fun.

“Yeah, I do,” she says firmly, a stubborn part of her sparking to life from your tone.

You sag against the doorframe, your bottom lip jutting out. “Really?”

Her eyes skip to the slippery plush of your lip, feeling her body stiffen from the way it shines with your spit. She forces herself to look right at you. “Really. Just let me shower.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine, okay.”

Lee doesn’t know why she’s so bugged by the idea that you may dislike spending time with her tonight. As the warm water washes over her, a tender balm against her aching muscles, her mind surges with the desire to find an answer for her conundrum. Maybe it’s due to all the time you two have spent together recently, both for work and otherwise. It’s been a month since your guys’ first outing to that cafe, and since then, you two have engaged in conversation on numerous occasions, during walks you’ve taken or when she’s in the car with you on the way to one outing or the other. And one evening, after a particularly cold walk, you had invited her to share some tea with you. It wasn’t necessary, seeing as you were now in the guarded safety of your home. Lee went, anyways. At the time, she preferred the explanation that she simply wanted to be extra cautious – but, deep inside, she knew that wasn’t true.

And maybe that’s what’s now led to her feeling a sting when she thinks of your resigned, exhausted tone from before. She knows it’s understandable you miss and yearn for time completely to yourself – in your place, she’d probably go insane and find her own ways out of it as soon as possible.

But, still, something in her feels antsy, knowing you may be dreading such a short outing with her tonight. Was it her fault? Did she do something lately? She mentally reviews your guys’ last interactions, analyzing them to the best of her ability. She didn’t think she said anything out of line, but her judgement has served wrong in similar situations before. She supposes there’s no way to know without asking you, a realization that has her sighing in how downright undesirable it is.

Twisting her long fingers into her hair, she reflects on her current feelings for you. She knows she likes your company – that’s the only reasonable explanation for her agreeing to time together that she’s not obligated to. If she didn’t enjoy being around you, she wouldn’t have hesitated to carefully decline your invitation. So, her saying yes only brought to light something she had avoided thinking about for a long while. You were nice to be around – someone who, in different circumstances, she may have tolerated a friendship with. But, she shouldn’t be lured into friendship under these conditions – she can’t afford to be losing sight of what this job is about. Your safety. And a friendship only makes things riskier, since it could lead to her being more prone to distraction or feeling too much ease in circumstances she ought to be on high alert in.

There may be another figment there, too, that’s just as, if not more, concerning her. But, she’s doing a good job at ignoring it. If she doesn’t acknowledge it, hopefully it can just sizzle away to the background.

When she steps out into the hallway, hands in the pockets of her baggy jacket, she starts at the sight of you already there, rasping your foot on the ground.

Before she can get a word in, you blurt out, “Sorry. For before. I shouldn’t have been such a bitch about it.”

She clicks the door softly, gulping down the sudden rise of emotion pumping through her. “You weren’t.”

Without waiting for you to respond, she trods down the hall, twisting around the corner and going down the stairs to reach the front door. She doesn’t exactly want your eyes on her right now, feeling like any lingering looks will make it clear how much your words had really bothered her. 

As soon as she’s met with the night’s cool air, her body rumbling with a shiver from the slick hair lying across her back, you’re at her side, grabbing her arm with a loose tug. Lee’s entire body twitches from your grip, and she carefully extracts herself from it. It’s not professional. It’s not the sort of touching she needs to do for you.

“Lee, c’mon, please.” You opt for tugging on the end of her jacket. Lee knows you don’t have enough strength to actually pull her back and keep her from leaving you. But, just as much as she knows she wouldn’t actually leave you to begin with. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I’ve just had my parents on my ass lately, and I really just needed a moment alone, so I was feeling annoyed that I couldn’t have that moment. It has nothing to do with you, though, okay? I promise.”

The tension inside of her slowly unfurls from your words, a sweep of relief overflowing her. She keeps her eyes downcast, not wanting to meet your intense gaze in a moment as vulnerable as an apology. She takes a moment to absorb your words, repeating them to herself. Okay, it didn’t have to do with her. She didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not her fault.

“Thank you,” she quietly says, tugging her arm from your pinch on her hoodie. “Let’s go.”

As she walks, you bounce on your feet next to her, asking, “Do you forgive me?”

“What?”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, you know – you forgive me, right?”

“That sounds less like a question and more like a proposition.”

You frown, eyebrows crinkled as you scrunch them up. “What do you mean?”

The wisp of a smile curls at Lee’s lips. That’s one thing she’s noticed from spending time with you. Like it or not, you are just a tad entitled, a tweak spoiled. Despite what your parents’ line of work centers on, you’ve grown up reaping the expenses of it, and as a result, you have an impatient quality to you that Lee’s own childhood could’ve never bode well with.

“If you’re apologizing to me, you can’t expect me to give in right away.” She casts a glance your way, nearly chuckling from how your face twists. “Give me time.”

“I–” you start, your voice hard with what she suspects is immediate defense. But, a split second later, you deflate, the slope of your shoulders easing. “Fine. You’re right.”

“Mm,” she hums, continuing to walk. The truth is, she forgave you as soon as the apology left its residence within your mouth. But, your implication that she ought to forgive you immediately is what had her resisting – just a tad.

You rush to meet her pace, hand raising to her before flinching back and lowering.

Lee feels a pang at it. She knows you shouldn’t be touching her so informally, nor should she welcome such a show of unprofessionalism. But, she can’t help it. Your hesitancy to touch her, probably rooted in her own visible resistance to it, strikes her in the chest.

“I’m sorry, Lee,” you mutter, eyes widened and peering up at her with the innocence of a child. “You can take your time to forgive me. I won’t rush it.”

She swallows hard at the sudden burst of vulnerability, feeling admiration warm her body from how earnestly and straightforwardly you do it. Even accepting her criticism and immediately acknowledging your wrongs – she’s not an idiot, she knows how much self-awareness it takes to do that. 

She finds herself wordless for a few moments, mind wrapped in the goodness and purity of your actions, before stammering out, “I, um– it’s fine. We’re okay.”

When your eyes squeeze at the corners, she can’t help but smile back.

At the convenience store, you’re bubbling with questions for her, asking her what kind of food and snacks she likes, which she ate as a child. Though she’s usually not one for sharing, not that she’s ever really on the receiving end of questions that aren’t work related, she pushes herself to humor you, answering and expanding when needed. After careful consideration, rolling over the professionalism of doing so, she shoots you a question right back. And listens attentively as you tell her about the snacks you were never allowed to try as a kid, the pantry one of the things under strict surveillance from your mother. How you used to smuggle cheap bags of chips and chunky brownies into your bedroom, your friends sometimes bringing them into school for you.

Lee absorbs it all, her mouth pinching together in both confusion and a flicker of sympathy. She could tell, since a while back, that your parents were quite stern, but she supposes she hadn’t realized the extent. Actually, she definitely hadn’t realized.

A revelation that’s thrusted at her face when you two return home that night, and your mother, whose face is stormy and tight with disapproval, sends Lee a curt nod before excusing her. Immediately, you object, but your words are firmly cut off, and Lee finds herself tiptoeing the line between proprietary and protection. The rules and regulations of how much she can protect you warring with how much she wants to throw those away because her protection of you is dangerously teetering off the edge of her job’s obligations.

When she remains frozen, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her sweats, your mother’s smooth voice rolls back into the room.

“Miss Harker, I’d like a moment alone with my child.”

Lee doesn’t bother sparing her a glance, her eyes sliding from the patterned, bleeding red rug to your eyes, urgent in their silent question. 

“Miss Harker, I just asked you to leave.”

Lee clears her throat, blinking hard, debating if it’s a good idea to resist, before finally landing on the firm, quiet words of: “Sorry, but I don’t report to you.”

She can hear your mother’s sharp intake of breath, but can’t find the courage in herself to look up and meet her gaze. She supposes the woman has enough money to find a new bodyguard with the snap of her fingers, and wouldn’t hesitate before calling Lee’s agency and reporting her. And while those worries thrum in Lee’s mind, sending her fingers twisting into the scratchy fabric of her pants, she pushes them aside. She’s always been good at doing that.

Tension rings through the room like a rope slowly looping around everyone’s neck, unbearably tight.

You finally speak up, nodding at Lee. “I’m okay. You can go up, Lee.”

She draws in a deep breath, not wanting to push you even more in this moment. And so, she returns a tilt of her own head then silently slinks off up the stairs. 

The rest of the night is spent in regret for having left you in that moment, not an inch of the floorboards left untouched with her pacing. She listens to her walkman, lies in bed, anything she can to take her mind off the tight expression on your face. Because she absolutely should not be this concerned. She knows it’s not wrong, per say – most people would insist it’s proof that she still has a heart, despite it all. But, she knows it’s a bit more than just a baseline level of empathy.

Her shoulders only loosen up when she hears the familiar creak of your door opening through the wall. But, even then, her mind is whirling with questions. Are you okay? Are you crying? Do you need her?

Is it her place to be needed in this way?

–

The following days of tension are only shattered into blissful little pieces when you scream in your bathroom one night.

Which, yes, sounds odd and slightly concerning, but it makes sense.

Lee comes rushing in through the connected doors, and you hear the pound of her quick footsteps before a rasp is quickly skittering on the door. 

“Yeah, yeah, come in,” you shakily say, your voice hooked onto an embarrassingly high pitch, your arm jolting out to twist open the lock.

Lee immediately barges in, her arms raised upright as her sharp eyes scan the bathroom, her veins bulging out as she tightly grips the gun. Her hair is drenched, lying on her back in dark ripples, like a river creased with gentle waves. It leaves the sweater she’s wearing clinging to her back, and you watch the wet patch as she walks past the corner you’re tucked into, paying you no mind as she checks over the bathroom.

She does it so fast that a few seconds have barely passed before her eyes dart to you, wide and alert. “Who was here?”

Immediately, humiliation floods you, sending your face stinging with heat. “Um…”

Your arm raises tentatively, a meek finger pointed at the green wall. Lee immediately spins around, her gun pointed to where a large centipede is crawling. 

Eyebrows furrowed, she observes the spot for a few seconds before her arms lower, her face relaxing into a deadpan expression, which she shoots at you mercilessly.

“Really?” she mutters, blinking hard at you.

“It’s huge,” you cry out, your voice bordering on a childish wail.

“It’s–” she starts before breaking into a sigh. She glances down at the gun in her hand, her shoulders sagging.

Your face breaks into a smile, cheeks aching. “At least you were prepared.”

“Overly so.”

Your mouth quivers before breaking into a loud laugh, cupping your mouth. “You–You pointed your gun at it so ferociously.”

Her mouth twitches, folding in together until they’ve thinned out. “That’s my job.”

“And you do it very well, I promise,” you blubber through your near-hysterical fit, clutching at your throbbing stomach.

Moments later, her slow-spreading smile breaks into a low laugh. The sound is deep and wrinkled, like creased velvet, and your stomach flips at the way it rumbles. Does it come from her chest or her stomach, that low, lovely sound?

Shaking her head, she sets the gun down to the counter and silently bends down to retrieve some toilet paper. She grabs the mug of water you had brought into the bathroom, emptying it out before using it to efficiently capture the creature. 

You watch in stunned silence as she exits your bathroom, the noise of the window opening meeting your ears before she returns, disposing of the tissue.

“Gone?” you ask wondrously. “Gone,” she affirms with a nod. “Probably the easiest task I’ve had the entire job.”

Your smile widens at her dry quip. “Glad to be of some assistance.”

“Well, yeah, especially after the…” she trails off, licking her lips. “Lack of insect help.”

You scoff, sending a light kick to her thigh with your bare foot.

You don’t realize how intimate of an act it is until her warm, rough hand wraps around your ankle on instinct, which causes you to slide a bit off the edge of the counter you were perched against. The movement causes your towel to ride up your thighs, and you immediately scramble to tug it down, which causes the knot tucked into your chest to unfurl. Your hands flounder about, flying up to your chest, clutching the towel close like a lifeline.

The rapid movements cause Lee’s face to flinch up and her eyes seem to finally take in your current state of undress, roving over you. You feel yourself stiffen under the gaze, her brown eyes carrying a weight to them that you hope is at least half, at least a quarter, of desire. 

She lets go of your ankle, sharply clearing her throat before grabbing her gun and departing from the bathroom without another word.

More and more each day, you come to crave her touch like someone who's been starved of warmth for decades. Everytime she’s nearby, you long for something to startle you, just so you have an excuse to curl against her body. You wish she was less professional, less careful, and would just press her palm against your lower back in crowds, grip your wrist when you needed guidance in weaving your way through somewhere. But, she only ever touches you on accidents or when you initiate it. You’re not sure if it’s fear, respect or repulsion that pulls the strings of her inaction. But, you wish it could be gone so that you could feel those tight, patchy calluses on her fingertips again.

Those calluses your mouth feels bitterly dry for as you two stop by a field during the drive home one day. You begged for her and the driver to pull to the side, the stormy sky setting every glade to an emerald green and wrapping everything in a pale, low light. After watching you for a few seconds, Lee quietly says to the driver, “Let’s stop.” 

As you two lean on a peeled wooden fence, watching over the expanse of the green ocean, you eye her from the corner of your eyes. “Do you want to smoke?”

Her eyebrows draw in together slowly, watching the faraway forest bridging the parameters of the land. “How did you–?”

“Can smell it from the other room.”

Her throat bobs as she gulps. “I– sorry.”

You chuckle. You assumed she hadn’t known – she didn’t seem like the type to smoke near anyone without asking. But, you hadn’t minded the smell much. It was only faint in how it drifted under the connecting door, a comforting reminder of how close she was.

“It’s okay. You can do it now, if you want.”

“I don’t smoke on the job.”

“Why?”

“I do it to… um, relax,” she explains, the last word hanging as though relax isn’t a word in her personal dictionary.

“Are you implying you never relax on the job?” you drawl, the corner of your lip quirking up.

“Considering my job is to ensure people live, not really.” Her lips tilt up as she glances at you, her voice lowering as she adds, “I only sometimes do.”

A spark of eagerness unfolds in your stomach, and you can only hope your response comes off naturally when you murmur, “Oh? Like, when?”

She rewards you with nothing but a sidelong glance, shoulders heaving in tension before she fishes for her pack of cigarettes. After sparking it to life with a simple, silver lighter, she breathes it in, her eyes fluttering close for a moment.

You seize it unabashedly, gazing at her during the rare moment of self-contained peace. She hangs somewhere between her usual reservations and completely rash and explosive freedom. A calm river just barely flowing with the breeze. A leaf taking a break, unrattled for the first time in forever. 

Her eyes closed, the cigarette dangling from her pink lips, she’s a vision, wrapped in nothing but her own thoughts. She’s not tense in awareness of people around you, nor focused and alert in her protection of you. She’s released for these few seconds, succumbing to the heady, charged air of the ongoing storm, letting it lull her to some other world for a few seconds.

How badly you wish to be a part of that world.

–

Lee’s not sure how she wound up in this situation, but the last thing she had expected, nor desired, in the duration of this already-exhausting night, was to be on the receiving end of a spat with a client.

It’s not like it’s a new situation, per say. She’s had tons of clients before who found her attentions and diligence to remain nearby irritating, and took it out on her. Usually clients in your position – people who never chose to have such a bodyguard. And she was equipped to handle it. It was annoying, sure, grating on other days, yes, but she understood the root of the problem didn’t have to do much with her. And so, she usually just keeps quiet, only answering back when needed, then silently departing as soon as possible. Just as she always avoided confrontation with her mother, felt her stomach tighten in the anticipation of honesty, her avoidance of conflict with clients was automatic.

But, for the first time, she finds herself wanting to push back, her eyes hard as she gazes at you. You, who’s adorned more than usual, dressed up head to toe in clothes that are completely different from what you usually wear. So different that Lee has to force her eyes to remain on your face as you stare at her with something akin to fury.

“So, what, you’re just going to be a third parent from now on?” you snap, tossing your arms up. “I can’t even go to the club?”

“You have a curfew to abide by.”

“But, the convenience store–”

“Was a half hour outing, tops,” she firmly states. “Very different from going to a club for hours.”

Not to mention that the idea of heading into a club with you makes Lee want to brace her head against the wall. Though, she suspects you’re aware of that.

“It’s my friend’s birthday, Lee!” you cry out, your foot stomping so hard on the ground Lee feels slight concern. “I promised her.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

You flinch, and she watches you, carefully re-assessing her words. She doesn’t believe what she said sounded malicious. It’s the truth of the matter. You know you’re now under certain guidelines in order to ensure your safety, and part of that comes with avoiding outings that place you in vulnerable positions. Such as ones that take place during nighttime, or any that require you to be apart from Lee.

She knows it’s less than ideal for you, but she doesn’t care enough to let you go on your own or disrupt her carefully arranged schedule. A schedule that, yes, her nightly anxieties and bad habits usually prevent her from actually inhabiting. But, still, an outing to the club was not what was planned, and she has no intention of going with you unless you downright refuse her.

Which you seem to nearly do, huffing and whirling around before Lee’s grabbing your forearm, her fingers squishing into the soft skin. It’s softer than she realized.

She shakes her head of the detail, quietly reiterating, “You can’t go. Even if I wanted to, your mom wouldn’t be okay with it.”

“And?” you snap, your eyebrows furrowing, arm tugging hard from her grip but to no avail. “Why are you on her side instead of mine?”

Lee sighs, feeling her frustration flare. It’s not about sides, there is no competition happening between you and your mother. It’s simply about ensuring your safety, something your mother has set guidelines for, those of which you personally don’t agree with. Lee can understand both sides, including your mother’s worries and your lashing out. But, she doesn’t want to be caught in the crossfire. Especially not by you. Your mother, she expects nothing of. But, you, who she’s grown to develop a personal relationship with, she expects some more maturity from.

“It has nothing to do with that. If you and I don’t follow her rules, if something happens, I can– I can lose my job,” she mutters, the admission one that makes her feel painfully ripped open.

“So, that’s why you’re concerned over something happening to me? Because you might lose your job?”

Lee nearly groans, her jaw clenching at your quiet and seething words. She doesn’t like admitting it to herself, but there is a part of her, a part she forces to be small, that cares for you beyond being a client. But, she can’t express that. She barely utters it in her own mind, keeping it stifled and hidden away in a corner she barely spares a glance to. There’s no way she’s admitting it to you. Doing so would crumble the foundation of professionalism your guys’ bond is based on. It breaks all the rules. She can’t afford that.

“No. It’s about keeping you safe, which is why I’m here,” she says, her voice levelled. 

“Safe, not stifled, Lee,” you cry out, yanking your arm back. “I don’t need you doing that either.”

Your breaths are beginning to break into an uneven pattern, mouth quivering as you watch her.

Lee inhales sharply, immediately taking recognition of what’s to come. She lowers her arm, muttering, “Okay. Just calm down, we–”

Your little rasps break into a long, shuddering breath, tears beginning to leak from your eyes.

Lee freezes in place, feeling her mind lurch into overdrive. She’s not equipped to handle a breakdown, that’s for sure. She can barely manage her own, that’s why she avoids them so much. But, as you sink down in the hallway, landing on the ground with a soft thump, Lee is slapped with the realization that standing here and staring probably isn’t the correct decision for how to handle this. 

She gingerly lowers herself next to you, her head tipping against the brown wallpaper, spotted with tiny flowers. Her hands coil and twine together in her lap – an anxious instinct, one she succumbs to when she doesn’t know what to do. She remembers her coworkers joking about how surprising it was that she managed so well with a gun when she’s such a nervous fidgeter. She supposes they had a point.

She remains silent, keeping her eyes fixed on her lap so as to not make you feel pressured or uncomfortable. If you need time to cope with missing the party, she’ll give it to you. The position you’re in is beyond anything she’s ever dealt with, but familiar, for she, too, has felt the weight and anguish of a parent’s control, no matter how infused it was with care and good intentions.

Perhaps it’d help you to hear that. To know that she doesn’t mean to rebuke or misunderstand you. She didn’t want to make you feel that way, but she’s lived with herself long enough to know that her hope isn’t enough to save her from making an unwanted impression.

“I understand it,” she murmurs. It’s difficult for her to bring these things up. With anyone, but especially with a client. She doesn’t think she’s ever actually brought something so personal with anyone she’s worked with before. It doesn’t, shouldn’t, make sense that she feels so compelled to tell you. After all, it’s only been a month and a half. But, something in her is urging her on, pushing her forward in revealing these things – for the sake of your comfort, for the sake of your sanity. For the sake of ensuring you don’t feel like she’s playing a role in your isolation. Things she never cared much about with past clients.

“My mom was quite protective too. You know, scared of something happening.” She keeps her tone hushed, almost as though if she reins it in, the confession is only half-lingering in the air.

“Why?”

Her teeth clench together. Now, that, she has no desire to divulge. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just – I get it. I get how hard it is to have someone always watching over you.” It feels odd to link herself to you in such a close, intimate way, but she pushes herself on. After all, it’s probably a bigger deal to her than it is for you. “It can be pretty pressuring.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, tipping your head back, your shoulder pressing to hers. 

Lee tries to resist instinctively moving away from you, keeping her shoulders stiff. 

“I just – I don’t mind that they’re protective, right? I just hate how they use it as an excuse to override my own opinion. They never asked me if I wanted a bodyguard, if I wanted this life. I feel like I had no say. And everytime I’m not allowed to do something else, I feel like it’s just slapping me again – the reminder that I can’t do what my friends do. And, I know what my parents do is great – but, they, I don’t know, they don’t consider me often when it comes to what I want. They just trust that they know better and expect me to go along with it.”

Lee absorbs your words, fidgeting with the material of her slacks. She feels a sting of anxiety when you mention the bodyguard thing, hoping her job isn’t too burdensome on you. She wills away the notion, though, focusing on the rest of what you’ve said. While her own mother was paranoid and constantly clung to Lee, she did trust Lee’s decision-making skills. Perhaps she knew it wouldn’t be fair to do any otherwise, when so much of Lee’s childhood was left for her to manage on her own.

“Yeah, that would be frustrating,” she muses quietly. “You should have more of a say. Even if it’s for your own safety, it’s not gonna feel good for you if you’re forced into it.”

When you do nothing but nod, she inhales a deep breath, searching her brain for a potential solution.

“Maybe you should talk to them, figure out how often you need me.”

“I mean, it’s not you I have a problem with. I just don’t want the curfews and all. And the restrictions.”

But, Lee is a restriction. She doesn’t say this, though, not wanting to rebuttal you on your own feelings. She wouldn’t appreciate it if someone did that to her. And it is, embarrassingly enough, relieving to know her company isn’t a complete burden on you. It’s so stupid – she shouldn’t even care about that, you’re a client.

“Thank you, though. For everything. It means a lot to me – it always does.”

Her mouth quivers at that, blinking hard as the words settle in her chest. She’s had clients voice their appreciation for her before, but this feels a lot softer, more heartfelt. Maybe it’s because of the informal position you two are in, sprawled on the floor together, sharing secrets.

“It’s fine,” she mutters, gaze pointed at the wall opposite to you both. 

It’s more than that, really. But, she really shouldn’t tell you that.

She also shouldn’t let you place your head on her shoulder, no matter how lightly you keep it there, as though you’re anticipating for her to jerk away any second. She shouldn’t sag further into the wall so that the two of you can be more comfortable. What she should be doing is ignoring the urge in her that’s telling her to secure your comfortability, because the want, the desire for that – it’s not for work at this moment, it’s not out of duty. There is no threat here, nothing hanging above her head.

She simply wants to see you happy.

And that’s why she takes you to the club that night, firmly telling you to stay near a security guard while she takes a smoke outside before meeting you inside. She won’t stay near, of course, planning to linger by a corner for the next few hours and just make sure you’re well-looked after. But, it’s blaring inside, and she needs something to calm her nerves before going somewhere so crowded. With the nature of her job, she’s adept at handling these situations, knowing exactly how to control her breathing and temper the ache in her stomach.

Your eyes glossy, you stare at her with such earnestness she looks away. “You didn’t have to do this, Lee. I know it’s a drag, that’s another reason why I didn’t ask you.”

“I know. But, it’s just one night.”

“A really special one because of your help,” you whisper, your lashes fluttering as your eyes flick over her face, Lee feeling her neck heat up from the attention. “Thank you so much.”

She hums, forcing her stare to rip from the ground and onto you. It takes her only a split second to realize something is off – the lip stain you swiped on your mouth is smudged at the corner.

“You, um– your mouth.” She points half-heartedly to your face.

You bring your thumb up, swiping it at the corner she gestured to, and Lee winces as your stroke along your mouth leaves the colour swiping only more past your lips.

“Okay, that clearly wasn’t right,” you laugh loudly, your eyes shining under the dim light of the street lamp.

She sucks in a breath, her fingers rasping at her thighs, practically tingling with the urge to help. Which is strange, considering she usually hates to touch and be touched – but, perhaps, the casual intimacy you two shared just an hour ago is still lingering in her system, pulling her to the desire to do more. 

But, she really shouldn’t. She shouldn’t.

Yet, as you watch her there, your eyes glimmering, skin coated in the blue tinge of the moonlight, she so badly wants to indulge in the pretense that you guys are something different from bodyguard and client. She wants to give you some help outside of necessity, something to show you that you can depend on her again. She probably shouldn’t want you to depend on her as you did tonight – after all, this is a professional bond, not friendship. But, still, she so rarely connects with another person. And the fresh wave of familiarity you both submerged in tonight is swimming in her mind.

Maybe, just for tonight, you two can be friends.

She lifts her hand up, her long fingers cradling your face as her thumb carefully wipes the corner of your mouth, cleaning your mess. Her eyes hone in on you, curiously travelling over your face, trying to piece together exactly what you’re thinking. Your eyes are wide, bulging out in what she assumes is surprise, lips hanging open as she tenderly cleans you up. 

She gulps hard. Perhaps this was too forward a move.

Her hand drops, and she clears her throat. “Sorry.”

“No, no,” you immediately say, the string of words almost muddled in how fast you utter them, “It’s okay, really. Thanks for, um, you know, cleaning it up.”

A nod is all you receive from her, for she doesn’t trust that her voice won’t reveal the turmoil raging within her. The kind that’s forcefully thrusting to the forefront of her mind what she feels, how unprofessional this is, how her feelings are tumbling over the boundaries – shattering them, really. 

When you’re gone inside and she’s smoking, she simply lets herself rest in this moment, resolving to herself that by the time morning comes, she’ll be back to normal. She won’t be thinking of how good you look tonight, or how she’s praying that no one hits on you there.

She won’t be rubbing the spit you left on her fingers between the pads of them, feeling a nearly feral desire for it to soak through the grooves and calluses until it’s completely embedded and locked with her. She won’t be resisting the urge to raise them to her own mouth, and let herself feel the cool wetness of it.

as per usual, I'd love to hear what you guys think so totally let me know! your guys' words and thoughts always mean the world to me ♡ also, the bug scene was the amazing idea of @threenounname (hehe thank you sooo much)

[jaeyunluvbot]

[soft spot]

008. frank ocean

Sunghoon looks up from his notebook, sighing slightly. “Hey, heads up. Jake’s gonna take his break with us.”

You look at him, smiling and clapping your hands softly. “Perfect. I need a break from studying anyway.”

Ricky snorts, not even trying to hide his amusement. “Girl, you’ve been watching YouTube this whole time, but okay.”

You shoot him a glare, shoving his shoulder gently. “Let me live.”

A moment later, Jake approaches the table, looking slightly hesitant but smiling politely. He’s still in his green apron, though his hair’s slightly mussed now, like he’d run his hand through it a few times. “Hey, uh, is it cool if I sit here for my break?”

“Of course!” Ricky says quickly, gesturing to the empty chair next to you.

Jake takes a seat, glancing around the table as he adjusts his apron. The first few minutes are filled with small talk, introductions, casual comments about how busy the store is today. Jake’s a little quiet at first, his responses short but polite. You and Ricky exchange a look, silently agreeing that he’s just shy.

“So,” you say, leaning your elbow on the table, “why were you so awkward at the semi-formal? And you didn’t even drink. Not your scene?”

Jake chuckles softly, looking down at his hands. “Yeah, not really. I usually just chill at home. The whole party thing isn’t my vibe.”

“Fair enough,” Ricky says, nodding. “Honestly, same. But Y/N here? She thrives in chaos.”

You roll your eyes. “I do not.”

Sunghoon smiles too. “You kinda do, though.”

The conversation loosens up after that, with Jake relaxing as he gets more comfortable. Eventually, the topic drifts to hobbies.

The conversation loosens up after that, with Jake relaxing as he gets more comfortable. Eventually, the topic drifts to hobbies.

“What do you do to chill at home, then?” you ask Jake.

He shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’m into music. Big Frank Ocean fan. Also Keshi—his stuff is so good for late-night listening.”

Your eyes widen. “No way. I love both of them!”

“Really?” Jake perks up, his smile growing. “What’s your favorite Frank Ocean song?”

“Pink Matter, definitely,’” you say immediately, regretting how excited you sound.

Jake nods approvingly. “Solid choice. Mine’s probably ‘Self Control.’”

The two of you dive into a mini-debate about Frank Ocean’s best album, Jake visibly lighting up as he talks. The conversation flows easily from there, shifting to other shared interests—indie music, coffee, and, unexpectedly, legos.

“Wait,” you say, laughing. “You’re seriously into legos?”

Jake grins sheepishly. “Yeah, it’s like practice for my future career.”

You tilt your head, confused. “What?”

“I’m a civil engineering major,” he explains, leaning back in his chair with a playful shrug. “I tell myself building LEGO sets is just me honing my craft.”

Ricky lets out a loud laugh. “That’s either the nerdiest or the coolest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Why not both?” Jake says, grinning.

At some point during the conversation, Ricky and Sunghoon exchange a knowing glance, their eyes saying everything without words, with you and Jake being too wrapped up to notice.

After what feels like no time at all, Jake’s phone buzzes with an alarm. “That’s my break,” he says, standing reluctantly. “Thanks for letting me crash your study session.”

“Anytime,” you say with a smile that feels a little too wide.

As Jake heads back to the counter, Ricky waits approximately three seconds before nudging you. “You’re smiling like that for what?”

“Shut up,” you mumble, though you can’t fight the warmth creeping into your cheeks.

Sunghoon chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “You’re gonna say it, aren’t you?”

You shake your head, but the thought lingers as you glance toward Jake, who’s already back to taking orders. “Just wondering why I haven’t talked to him before.”

They poke fun at you for a few more minutes before you go back to studying, deciding that your grades are important after all and that you’d better brush up on the material before you exam on Friday.

author's note .ᐟ finally free from class thank god

taglist .ᐟ @cigsaftersuh @maniluvzyou @bluxjun @delirioastral @kukkurookkoo @ddolleri @haechology @rairaiblog @ilovbeshotaro @baerinaa @worcesheshestershiresauce @enhastars @fairysungx @4jaeyun

[cloversnstrawberries]

oc intro post ! ! older sister figure!platonic yandere!cupid

masterlist | requests open !

warnings; loneliness, Amedea is non-human and therefore doesn't understand humans much </3, kidnapping, imprisonment, soft yandere, this is rather tame all things considered, but if there's any other warnings you think i should add, please let me know!!

additional notes; my second OC!! i was planning to do the next voted character (slasher older brother), but got this idea and couldn't stop thinking about it,, so here she is!! older sibling yans are so underrated,, especially older sisters/sisters in general man :( i gotta change it, i gotta fix it

! ! introduction blurb & moodboard below the cut ! !

After doing something for so long, you're bound to get bored with it. Don't get her wrong-- it's still beautiful, watching love bloom as it does! Even if her domain is familial love, it's still beautiful nonetheless.

Contrary to popular belief, cupid isn't just one being. It isn't necessarily as job title, either; instead, born from one being, there are several different interconnected entities that make up Cupid as we know it. They all have domains to cover more ground, and Amedea oversees familial love.

She's the one in the hospitals, witnessing the looks of absolute adoration as a mother holds her child for the first time. She's the one in animal shelters, making people feel an unexplainable pull to a certain animal.

Amedea loves her position-- it's all she's ever known. It's all she will ever know, after all, it's what she was made for. Literally.

She never grew up, never had a family per se. It's painful, the ability to give this sort of euphoria, the euphoria of being held in your fathers arms as he comforts you after a nightmare,

But never being able to receive it. Never having the means to do so. Yes, her domain expands far beyond simple blood relatives; sometimes, she'll be the driving force between adoptions of both children and pets, she'll be the quiet reason that two friends are always mistaken as siblings out in public.

She can't be seen, though. Always there, sometimes in multiple places at once-- she can create pseudo-clones of herself, pulling pieces of herself to send off and help her with her duties.

Or, she thought she couldn't be seen.

And she really can't, not by anyone but you. She feels awful, the first time you met-- she'd fallen from her perch up in a tree in a local park, and you'd rushed to her aid.

Everybody looked at you like you were crazy-- some whispering cruel things behind your back, believing you to be talking to yourself.

She took your hand, and that'd sealed it. You were the first person, the first mortal being, to be able to see her. Not even animals could do that--

In her mind, that just proved that her little aches and pains of her lack of family was answered. Obviously, you were her younger sibling! Crafted perfectly just for her, for her to nurture and care for.

What do you mean you're already grown? That you don't have an older sister? That hurts her feelings, but she supposes it can't be helped. She's seen this before, this sort of attempt at distancing between ones self and their family.

You were a child to her. Even if you lived a remarkably long life-- hit the very limit of human existence, you'd still be a child to her. She's been around for so long, in different forms, under different names and appearances-- but that doesn't change any of it.

You're still her little sibling, and she'll still care for you. Even if you're a bit mean at first. That's okay. Not everyone can adjust to changes very well-- but you'll surely accept your new home soon, right? It had everything you needed,

and besides, Amedea was here. No matter what, she'd be there for you-- and she wishes you'd stop hearing that promise as a threat.

[prettyinpwn]

Mabel Pines: How Well Was She Written... Really? (GF Writing Analysis Pt. 3)

GF Writing Analysis Series: Pt. 1 - Ford Pines: A Masterclass in Writing a Good Flawed Character Pt. 2 - How Gravity Falls Could Have Been Better + Poor Ford and Wendy

Like my previous post in my GF Writing Analysis series, I am a bit nervous to post this, to be honest. I love this fandom, but there are two main topics in it that tend to draw the most debate: A. how Gravity Falls ended and its length/pacing, and B. Mabel's writing.

I already tackled the former in my last post, so today, I'm tackling the latter: Mabel. I like to live fandom life on the wild side, what can I say?

Let me preface this post by saying that I am very neutral on Mabel as a fan. I never especially liked her, and I never especially disliked her. It's nothing against Mabel. I'm just personally more drawn to characters like Stan and Ford the most, and if I'm honest, the only reason I'm drawn to Dipper more than Mabel is likely because I relate to him more.

*Gestures at, you know, this blog's over a decade long history of theorycrafting and analyses.*

So... I'm coming at this post with a very neutral eye and an open mind, and like my other analyses, it will be based as much as possible on writing theory I learned in college and over the years in personal study.

But unlike Ford's post, where I already had a viewpoint in mind and wrote it around proving that thesis, Mabel's is going to be more exploratory, and I will reach a conclusion at the end. Is Mabel really that badly written? Is she written pretty well with just some flaws? Or... is she actually a really well-written character and just misunderstood?

Let's discover the answer together.

Mabel's Introduction + Who is She?

I will quote my general method of analyzing character writing from my Ford analysis post to start:

"When I took writing classes in college (and over years of writing in general and drooling over writing advice podcasts and blogs), I found that the best method for me, personally, when it comes to crafting characters is to focus on two major things:

1. Their want.

2. Their need. On the surface, these look like the same things, but in character writing, they can be vastly different. For example, say that you have a character that greatly desires fame and recognition. They want these things.

But what’s the real reason behind it? Is it because they had a parent that was famous and want to live up to their example? Is it because they want to be adored by people? Is it because they were told they’d never amount to anything by someone and want to prove them wrong?

This real reason behind it all is the core need. Yes, they want fame and recognition, but they need it because, say, they have low self-esteem and need copious amounts of outside validation to boost it.

Tied to this need is usually a backstory reason (sometimes called their wound). Say your hypothetical character was bullied a lot as a child. Or abused by a parent. Etc. Whatever the wound was, it caused a big, painful hole in their heart that they try to fill and fix with their want.

So they go on a journey. The want is often the external journey. The need is often the core journey / character arc. Our example character seeks fame and recognition on an external journey, but deep inside, they realize they need something else, which is to understand that their past trauma/wound doesn’t define them, and fame and recognition will not be the balm they expect it will be. Often, they realize they had what they needed all along. They grow past their flaws associated with their seeking this want through understanding and instead pursuing the need."

So... what is Mabel's core want and need as a character? And what's her wound? Who is she? Let's identify these things by looking closely at the very first episode, Tourist Trapped. Tourist Trapped establishes the following things about Mabel:

Optimistic; likes to look on the bright side of things. ("Yay, GRAAAAAASSS!", "Check out all my splinters!").

Go with the flow / easy-going / accepts things at face value. ("Yes, you can keep chewing on my sweater!", learns Norman is a bunch of gnomes and instead of punting them immediately she tries to gently turn them down).

Romance obsessed. No examples needed. *Gestures at whole series.*

Assumes the best in people / accepting of others. (e.g Norman).

Naive / overly trusting (e.g Norman again).

Cares about her family (protecting Dipper).

Clever (ever notice how she tricks the gnomes almost like how Stan tricks Bill near the end of the series?).

(Quick side note because this part always blows my mind: Tourist Trapped is a microcosm of the whole series, by the way. Two siblings get into an argument, one gets swept into the paranormal, and the other saves them from it. The former tricks the paranormal in a clever way to stop the paranormal threat from harming them both, and the two make up at the end and go on more adventures. Sound familiar?)

Back to Mabel, let's identify her core want and need and wound from her character traits. I struggled a long time with identifying this, because Mabel seems like such a laid back character that it's harder to pin these down for her compared to, say, Ford (false validation given to use me vs. honest but selfless love) and Stan (earning worth vs. knowing inherent worth). But I think I pinned it down...

Yins and Yangs

And guess what? Hers and Dipper's wants and needs match Stan and Ford's, but not in the way you think. Dipper has Stan's struggle, and Mabel has Ford's. Just like how Tourist Trapped is a microcosm of the whole series where one twin gets whisked away into the weird (Ford and Mabel) and the other needs to save them from it (Stan and Dipper)... their wants and needs are the same.

Granted, it manifests in different ways. Using Ford as an example, Ford's want is love and acceptance, but in a "praise me and my science and my accomplishments and accept me for who I am" way. Mabel's want is love and acceptance, but in a "must find boyfriend and keep loved ones close" way. Or in another way of explaining it, Ford desires introverted love, and Mabel desires outgoing love; makes sense for their characters. Ford is a Mabel if she were an introvert, and vice versa. Just like how Stan is a Dipper if he were an extrovert, and vice versa.

So... yeah. Ford and Mabel are the same character... sort of. Because as much as Ford pursues the unknown, Mabel pursues love (both romantic and familial). And Stan and Dipper are the twins that chase after them, anchoring them back to reality, sometimes even literally.

And that's where we come to the concept of balance, AKA why the twins are good for each other. You ever notice how the Pines at their worst is always when they're alone? Stan alone is a depressed criminal. Ford alone is both paranoid and naive. Dipper alone is insecure and pessimistic. And Mabel alone is also too trusting like Ford and delusional.

What fixes this? Their twin. Stan with Ford is happy and with purpose again, Ford with Stan is protected (thanks to Stan's people smarts) and grounded, Dipper with Mabel is more confident and optimistic, and Mabel with Dipper is protected (thanks to Dipper's logical smarts) and realistic.

THAT'S why the show had Mabel and Dipper stick together at the end. THAT'S why there was such an emphasis on why Stan and Ford being apart caused so many issues. THAT'S why Dipper chose to stay with Mabel over the apprenticeship. Because time and time again, the show states the thesis that a Pines without their twin is a dysfunctional Pines. Agree with it or not, that's the theme with their characters.

Because - and I say this lovingly - the Pines are kind of stupid at times without their twins. Stan's purposeless and turns to crime, Ford's too naive and trusting, Dipper's too pessimistic, and Mabel's too optimistic. Ford gives Stan purpose, Stan gives Ford some actual common sense, Mabel gives Dipper some needed levity, and... Dipper gives Mabel a reality check (GEE, I WONDER WHY MABEL'S WEIRDMAGEDDON EPISODE WAS CALLED 'ESCAPE FROM REALITY', AND WHY DIPPER WAS THE ONE TO BREAK HER FROM IT? *Cough beats people over the head with a theme but somehow people still didn't get it cough.*).

Sorry, Caps Lock rant aside, honestly, I should just make a chart to explain the Pines. We'll be using four scales: introverted (I) vs. extroverted (E), gravity (G) vs. levity (L), active (A) vs. reactive (R), and book smart (B) vs. people smart (P).

(Yes, we're gonna make our own Gravity Falls Myers-Briggs, because I'm that insane.)

This system also reflects the Pines on a layer level: Stan and Mabel's outside personas (E and P) seem more similar, but their cores are different (GR vs LA); the same goes for Ford and Dipper (shared outside persona of I and B, but different cores of LA and GR).

This is why, in the fandom, we often look superficially at the Pines and say, "Dipper is the Ford twin because smart nerds, and Mabel is the Stan twin because outgoing fun ones". No, my friends: Dipper is the Stan twin, and Mabel is the Ford twin. Dipper is just Stan in a Ford coating, and Mabel is just Ford in a Stan coating.

We'll come back to this later for the next section, but for now, let's focus on answering the main question: is Mabel written badly, or is she written well?

Well... she has core wants (fun and love and escapism and childhood). She has a need (reality and gravity and facing the future). And... well, they never really explored her wound AKA her reason why she desires these things like they did for Stan and Ford.

But... my guess is that reality has often wounded her and popped her bubble in the past (maybe bullying at school, hence her desire to not face growing up alone without Dipper), so she avoids it in order to keep her optimistic fantasy alive to avoid pain. Just like... I dunno... that whole episode that centered around that thing called Mabeland? Metaphors, people.

So so far, Mabel checks the same boxes as my earlier analysis on why Ford is a well-written character:

Want? Check. Need? Check. Realizes she had what she needed all along (Dipper to ground her)? Check. And our last point, I'll refer back to my quote from earlier: "They [well-written character] grow past their flaws associated with their seeking this want through understanding and instead pursuing the need."

Yeah. Mabel has flaws, associated with her pursuing her wants. They manifest in that, yeah, sometimes she's selfish. And that's the flaw most people in the fandom have criticized her for.

But guess what? ALL of the Pines are selfish at times.

Stan? Ford gets captured in Weirdmageddon and Stan - although we get why he's bitter - is reluctant to save him again.

Ford? Ford received a college grant and made no attempts to reach out to Stan who was poor and struggling - although we understand why Ford was bitter, too - and reaches out to Stan not to make amends but to ask him to do him a favor.

Dipper? Probably the least selfish of the Pines, but still... at times he's selfish, too. The Time Traveler's Pig explores this. He repeatedly rewrote the day of the fair because he wanted a chance to be with a girl we know he never would have gotten with anyways. Did he think about what Wendy wanted when he did that? No. Did he think about what Mabel wanted? Well, no, at least until the end, but the moral of that episode is that Dipper learned to sacrifice his selfish want to make someone else happy.

So if people dislike Mabel for being selfish, well... they should dislike all of the Pines, then. And there are times she gives up her wants for Dipper, too, albeit shown less often. She trashes her sock puppet show - her chance at impressing a guy and compromising her core want of love - to save him, inspired by all the times he sacrificed for her. She lets go of a land of perfection and her delusion - albeit one that really wasn't real - to help him fix Weirdmageddon and save Ford.

Because here's the thing: a well-written character has flaws. There'd be no story if they didn't. A character without flaws has no arc and is poorly written. Mabel - just like the other Pines - is flawed and that's great. Because it means... she's well-written. I'll quote my post on Ford again:

"This is why Ford is a well-written character. He has flaws and suffers for them until he makes up for his mistakes. They are understandable flaws, but like in real life, just because it’s understandable why we act poorly at times - be it because of trauma or upbringing - it doesn’t mean we’re justified in continuing to hurt others or ourselves because of those flaws. We must acknowledge them, grow past them, and do our best to do better in the future, as well as apologize to those we hurt along the way."

Just like Ford, Mabel has flaws - albeit understandable ones based on who she is and her history - and she suffers for them. But in Escape From Reality, she acknowledges them, grows past them, and does her best to do better in the future.

As for the other hate on her I've often seen, including the way she gave the Rift over to Blendin/Bill... my friends... she did the same thing Ford did. And the flaw Bill took advantage of to do this was the same flaw she had in Tourist Trapped: her naivety.

Bill: "Hey, naive Pines twin, I have something you want (for summer to never end / validation and knowledge). Just give me something (the Rift / possession and build this portal) and I'll let you have it. I swear I'm innocent and on your side and have your best interests at heart!"

Bill is a master manipulator. So if we don't judge Ford for the way he was manipulated at the age of his late twenties, then why the hell do we as a fandom judge Mabel for falling for the same trick as a 12 year old?

And so we return to Tourist Trapped. Mabel's flaw in that episode was the same as the flaw she had by the end of the series. Drawn into a fantasy, lacking realism and logic about it, sibling saves her, apology to sibling, and working together to fix the mess. The difference is, is scale and stakes, and at the end of the series, it's a permanent change of growth. Mabel learns to accept reality; that life won't always be love and rainbows and sunshine, and that's okay.

I also want to highlight how the Pines' flaws are often their greatest strengths, too. Dipper often pops Mabel's fun bubble with his pessimism and realism; sometimes it rains on her parade, and sometimes it breaks her out of a delusion. And vice versa: Mabel often is too optimistic and naive, and that leads to Dipper having to save her from some manipulations and delusions, but sometimes she's the one who lifts him up when he needs it and he's too pessimistic and insecure. Case in point, Gideon Rises, where Dipper insists he needs Journal 3 after Stan takes it, and Mabel tells him, "You're a hero whether you've got that journal or not.".

And as for the hate on her "holding Dipper back from his apprenticeship", I'll quote this here, said by Mabel after Dipper convinces her to leave Mabeland:

"Hey, Dipper? I appreciate what you said back there, but if you want to take Ford's apprenticeship, I won't get in your way."

She offers him a compromise; she allows him to go for it. Because she learned her lesson of accepting the reality that, sometimes, people grow apart instead of things staying the same forever. She's become selfless. And at that point, it was Dipper's responsibility and choice to take it or not.

So if you're upset that Mabel "held Dipper back", no. She gave him room to leave, and he said no and stayed. If he'd wanted it that badly, he'd have gone for Ford's apprenticeship. And remember the series' thesis on the Pines I stated earlier:

"A Pines without their twin is a dysfunctional Pines. Agree with it or not, that's the theme with their characters."

So... we've now arrived at our conclusion about Mabel's writing based on the points we've explored above:

Once and for all, and I'll bold and make this big to emphasize my point, because I hope it quells some of the Mabel dislike: Mabel is a well-written character. She's flawed, yes, but that's the point. So... Why the Mabel Hate, Then?

There have been some ideas thrown around as to why Mabel has received extra scrutiny compared to the other Pines characters. One theory that's been thrown around is her gender, as she's the only female character of the four Pines, although I would lean towards that this isn't the likely main cause, due to the fact that there are other female characters that are liked in this fandom. Wendy receives little to no hate that I've ever seen (and in fact, I mostly see wishes to have gotten more writing featuring her character). Pacifica is liked, especially when it comes to shipping her with Dipper. So... why Mabel, specifically?

I would argue it's not her gender, specifically, but more her femininity. Mabel is very stereotypically "girly". Wendy is a tomboy, and Pacifica - although "girly" - is more of an aggressive character before her growth. Mabel is feminine and passive. She also is into many stereotypically "girly" things, like romance, knitting, crafts, etc. So people that are uncomfortable with the stereotypically feminine might have a subtle, unconscious "ick" reaction to Mabel for that reason.

And... combine Wendy's tomboy quality and Pacifica's association with a male main character (at least, when shipped with Dipper), well... er... I think that may be one potential reason why Mabel is disliked more. She's A. "girly" and B. she has no inherent "value" to a male character.

Dear God, I feel ick even writing that. But when you think about it... that could be one potential reason why she's the most disliked female character in the series. She's girly and is not a prize to be won to add value to a male's life. I shudder to think that this may be the case in today's world, but that may be the unconscious bias some people might have against her, and instead of realizing that, they blame it on "Mabel's selfish / poorly written".

Or, it could be the expectation that women need to be more selfless than men. Let's take after Ford for a moment and do some science: "The reward and learning systems in our brains work in close cooperation. Empirical studies show that girls are rewarded with praise for prosocial behavior, implying that their reward systems learn to expect a reward for helping behavior instead of selfish behavior. With this in mind, the gender differences that we observed in our studies could best be attributed to the different cultural expectations placed on men and women. This learning account is also supported by findings that indicate significant differences in the sensitivity of the reward system to prosocial and selfish behavior across cultures." (Credit/source).

Translation? In society, we praise women for being selfless, and we praise men for being selfish.

Getting this back to Dipper and Mabel, many have viewed their character conflict as "Dipper's being ambitious, and Mabel's holding him back". And with Dipper being a boy, and Mabel being a girl, fans might judge her overly harshly for her selfishness yet are easy on Stan, Ford, and Dipper for their selfishness because, yes, possibly... gender bias. "Mabel should have been less selfish!", they yell, yet people who criticize this flaw of hers are awfully quiet when it comes to addressing this same flaw in the male Pines.

Another reason why I think this is a strong contender for the most common reason why Mabel is disliked, is because of the parallelism between the two sets of Pines twins. Stan does the same thing as Mabel does: wanting his twin to stay with him, not wanting him to pursue his ambitions, wanting things to always stay the same...

So why do people not criticize Stan for the same thing? Why does he get more sympathy, yet Mabel gets ire? When Stan does it, he's a loving brother who just wants his brother to stay. When Mabel does it, she's "too selfish".

Feminist literary lens aside, sometimes I think Mabel's dislike can also be defense of one Pines twin over the other. I've seen this a lot with Ford and Stan in the fandom, where people vilify Ford yet see Stan as innocent in their squabble, as was common shortly after Ford was revealed at the time of airing.

Added to that was the fact that Ford got less attention from the writers and less time in the show to justify his flaws and understand his character (see my previous Gravity Falls writing analysis here that covers this topic), and, well... of course there's a high likelihood people are going to sympathize with Stan more than Ford. The show gave us more reasons to. But that doesn't mean Ford is inherently more wrong or more flawed than Stan. It's just that... people might like Stan more than Ford, so give him more stink-eye.

So I think the same happens with Mabel and Dipper, although Mabel and Dipper got roughly the same amount of airtime, so that leads me to my next point:

I have a little side theory here I want to test (but I could very likely be wrong) regarding why some characters in Gravity Falls are well-liked by certain people and vice versa, as well as why some characters are more vilified or idolized in this fandom. Let's return to my Pines personality chart:

Please ask yourself these questions honestly:

Who is your favorite Pines?

Who is your least favorite Pines?

Now, write these letters down depending on your answer:

Are you introverted (I) or extroverted (E)?

Are you a realist (G) or an optimist (L)?

Are you someone who goes after what you want (A) or waits for it to come to you (R)?

Are you more book smart (B) or people smart (P)?

Now, create your four letter Pines personality (e.g ILRB).

With your Pines personality, count how many letters you have in common with each character.

Now, answer this: do the Pines you share the most letters with happen to be your favorite Pines, and do the Pines you share the least letters with happen to be your least favorite Pines?

Personally, my favorite is Ford, and my least favorite is Mabel (although like I said earlier, I do not dislike Mabel, I am just neutral at worst with her). My own four letters are ILA/RB, meaning I'm introverted, trend towards optimism/levity, am split on active and reactive, and am more book than people smart.

I share 3-4 letters with Ford, 2-3 with Dipper, 1 letter with Stan, and 1-2 letters with Mabel.

And lo and behold... my favorite Pines is the most like me, and my least favorite Pines is one of two least like me.

So here's my theory as to why there's Mabel hate, since we've already established why Mabel is actually technically written very well: a combination of possible unconscious gender bias and personality matchup. Because if there's one thing us humans are good at it, it's, "Ape like me, me like, but ape less like me? Me throw rock! Insert war/hate/prejudice/online fandom hate, etc here.".

Therefore, in final conclusion: Mabel is well-written, and she's criticized unfairly. Anyone that criticizes her as "too selfish" needs to honestly analyze why they might not apply that same criticism to Stan, Dipper, or Ford.

[eeveecraft]

Possession: By a Tulpa for Tulpas

By: Arcanus of the Dragonheart System

Introduction

Possession is an optional skill in Tulpamancy that allows a tulpa to access the physical world; it gives a chance for a tulpa to experience things not curated or managed by their host or other system members. Thus, what is possession? For those uninformed, possession is quite simply the act of a tulpa or other system members taking partial or full control of the physical body while the previous person in control is still connected to said body. For many tulpas, this is our primary manner of accessing and interacting with the same world our hosts do, especially so for systems where the host is incapable of fully disconnecting from the body, often considered a highly important step for switching. As such, even possession itself is desired by many tulpas for this opportunity of interacting with the outside, with people who are not of the same mind and body, and to gain experience and develop as individuals.

Numerous possession guides are often created by hosts rather than tulpas or by a neutral viewpoint; there are very few possession guides designed by tulpas themselves who are capable of possession and wish to teach it to others. This guide is crafted by a tulpa who has existed as such for six years, and has been capable of possessing quite well for nearly as long. The aim with this piece is to guide other tulpas with this specific perspective in hopes of sparking a form of eureka moment for other tulpas that can be the flicker necessary to obtain this skill, and for tulpas who use solely nonhuman forms that may be uncomfortable with the idea of using a human body.

Preparation and Mindset

Before attempting possession, there are things to consider and prepare for. These preparations allow future training sessions for possession to be less vexing, and can aid in avoiding potential issues further down the line.

A primary thing a host and tulpa should obtain before practicing possession is the ability to have clear communication between each other, often in the form of vocality. Seizing control of the body is an action that requires both parties to communicate their feelings to each other consistently, especially when speaking about consent. Without clear communication, a situation can go awry or create a schism between the two parties. For example, imagine a tulpa possessing the body without informing the host first, causing bewilderment and fear within the host who had no inkling that the tulpa was going to possess. On the opposing side, picture a tulpa possessing and performing activities when the host snatches back control deliberately and without warning, and thus disrupts what the tulpa was doing. With both parties, this can cause unease and anxiety simply due a lack of communication and respecting boundaries.

To avoid this, both the tulpa and host need to speak with each other and mutually agree to the possession beforehand through means akin to vocality or even tulpish. If one member does not consent, then the other should not ignore the boundaries set by the other person. However, this does not mean a host should unreasonably prevent a tulpa from possessing. There are reasonable times to possess and situations where possession is not ideal where a host may state, "Sorry, now's not a good time because we're in public," and other circumstances that are unreasonable such as, "Sorry, but I don't want you doing this harmless thing." From personal experience, it can be quite thrilling to possess and experience existence in such a physical and lifelike sense, but it is best to show self-restraint and ask before attempting possession.

For further reading to learn about techniques to build communication and vocality, here are a few well-written guides:

Tulpamancy: Guide Into the Strange and Wonderful: Section 13: Vocality & Section 25: Methods of Communication

Tips for Hearing Your Tulpa

Quantum's Nametag Method

Clear communication often also requires the tulpa to be fairly developed, capable of making informed decisions without the host's input while also being mature enough to handle any possible outside world responsibilities. Fledgling tulpas have a tendency to be childish and emotional in nature, even being somewhat unstable in form and personality at times, as they continue to establish their identity with forcing sessions and experience. Therefore, a younger tulpa may not understand the importance of respecting boundaries, maintaining what are usually the host's responsibilities such as school or occupations, or may make emotional decisions in favor of logical ones. Harsh world experiences can also be stressful for the tulpa and negatively impact their development while they are still malleable and easily influenced, thus it is ideal for the tulpa to be developed to the point of their identity being mostly solidified, and where they have learned to manage their emotions in times of stress and hardship.

It must be specified that this advice is targeted towards more extensive possession sessions, sessions that may span hours, days, or longer. Shorter sessions within a controlled environment are more suitable for a less developed tulpa learning possession and do not require as much preparation and development from the tulpa.

How much time it takes for both of these to be met is subjective and has a high degree of variance between Tulpamancers. Both maturity and vocality can come with time, consistent forcing sessions, and patience. What is imperative is to not rush possession; possession is not a fleeting opportunity that is capable of vanishing at a moment's notice. Regardless of the system's age, possession is a skill that will always be available, thus do not feel the need to rush it or obtain it as quickly as physically possible. Nor should a Tulpamancy system feel as though they are obligated to learn possession. Though few in number, there are tulpas who are quite content with never being in control of the body, instead preferring to be imposed on the material plane or live their lives in a mindscape. Neither host or tulpa should be forced into learning a skill they do not wish to learn if they do not desire it within reason, however, it does not harm either to at least attempt possession once.

Finally, another common issue, specifically for hosts, is a sense of fear or anxiety when pondering the idea of the tulpa taking control. This fear is reasonable, especially with how possession and control swapping is often portrayed in many nations and cultures. In tandem with this, the host is often one who has spent their entire existence being the singular entity of the body; switching as a concept is a direct opposite of what the vast majority of humanity believes to be the sole way of existence, that each consciousness belongs to one vessel and is that vessel. There are some hosts who require self-introspection and must accept that they are not the body itself, but a single consciousness of multiple that happens to dwell within it.

Anxiety for switching can stem from pathological anxiety or this mindset of singularity, and thus not all Tulpamancy-specific advice may apply. Trust between both parties is critical when exchanging control, not simply that they will do no harm with the power they are given, but as a general rule. For both the tulpa and the host: trust in the tulpa to be responsible, and trust in the host to allow the tulpa to safely express themself without overstepping boundaries. Any and all concerns should be spoken about between both members and genuinely listened to, this includes doing whatever possible to negate any doubts or fears.

In conjunction with maturity, the ability to communicate properly, and dousing any fears and anxieties, another key factor in possession is the mindset of both the host and tulpa. It can be deceivingly simple to believe that possession is this archaic skill, possibly due to preexisting connotations of possession from various forms of media and how only supernatural beings are capable of performing this feat. Despite this, possession is not impossible to achieve, nor does it take years for most Tulpamancy systems to gain. Remember that both the tulpa and host exist within the same mind and body; both parties have access to the same neural pathways, and thus access to movement. As months become years, a tulpa eventually reaches a point to being on equal footing with the host, being a fully separate person capable of all the same feats the host is capable of and not simply some entity that can be willed away on a whim.

In addition to this, it is a highly prevalent and pervasive myth that the host must manually dissociate from the body to allow the tulpa to possess. Quite frankly, this is false, as many tulpas have proven to be capable of possession while the host is still fully connected to the body and is aware of what the body is doing. Mindset, however not being an absolute factor, can still majorly influence how quickly or slowly a skill in Tulpamancy is gained. Another belief that can stymie possession training is the belief that the tulpa is lesser, weaker, or simply less capable than the host. By doing this, the host is setting unnecessary limitations on the tulpa, which further slows skill development. When speaking about Tulpamancy, one should not think in absolutes, but instead keep an open mind for any possibility instead of denying or wholeheartedly believing a certain outcome will occur.

Thirdly and finally with possession myths, older guides often reference possession being this "alien" feeling when experienced, a sensation easily noticeable. In recent years, many Tulpamancers have started fervently exclaiming that possession will not feel alien and that it was merely an artifact from the past. As previously stated, believing in absolutes is often an unhelpful mindset in Tulpamancy. Despite the claims from either side, there are Tulpamancers who experience this "alien" feeling and others who do not. A possible explanation for this is a tulpa's presence and the sensation it gives when the tulpa possess, or perhaps this "alien" feeling is more common with tulpas with nonhuman forms that clash more with a human body when attempting to control it. Regardless of whether or not a system will experience this "alien" feeling is unimportant, as many believe this sensation alerts the host whether or not the tulpa is actually moving the body. If one is simply unsure if the body's movement was theirs or their tulpa's, they can simply verify it with the tulpa instead of merely guessing.

Once mentally overcoming these hurdles to the best of one's ability, possession is much more likely to be swift with ample progression and lowering the possibility of tribulations in the future.

Step-by-Step Process and Explanation

At last, the process of possession specifically for tulpas in the perspective of another tulpa. For the sake of brevity and simplicity, the possession strategy will be laid out in steps first, then the explanation will be placed after the method itself. Remember that this method is done solely in the perspective of the tulpa, however, the host at minimum should relax in whatever means they wish and simply allow the tulpa to go through the process.

Begin by connecting to the body's senses, look through the body's eyes, feel the gravity of the earth pulling downwards, take in any scents or sounds in the area, and even pay close attention to any flavors the mouth may be experiencing.

Hone in on a singular sense, whichever is desired. With the eyes, absorb every single detail possible, every color, every shape, their distance from the body, and more as an example. Or not simply feel the effect of gravity, but also the textures of objects or even the body itself, the temperature of the air or ground, and potentially even focus on negative sensations such as pain if they are present.

Entrench oneself in that specific sense until feeling completely absorbed by it, entranced to the point of losing awareness of one's form or anything else, even the thoughts of oneself or the host.

Become that sense, become the eyes, become the skin, the nose, the mouth, or ears. Not simply using the sense, but embodying that sense itself.

Once this step is complete, repeat the process with the other senses, slowly becoming them while remaining connected to the ones already focused on.

With every sense focused intensely on, attempt to move the body in some capacity. An example would be moving the eyes if the first step taken was to become sight.

Attempt to do this with the other senses and what they are related to. Move the body's arms, look around, take a deep breath, and listen to one's environment.

If the process was successful, the tulpa will be possessing the body.

Note how this strategy does not ask the host to "give up" the body or instruct the tulpa to flow their essence into the body unlike other possession guides. The mindset behind the method presented is guiding the tulpa to essentially synchronize with the body to the point of becoming one with it instead of a nonphysical person, becoming so lost with the world they are experiencing that they simply forget that they are a passenger in the metaphorical car. When honing in on or focusing highly on a sense, it can be possible for a tulpa to accidentally begin possessing what controls that sense. For example, a tulpa may be interested in what the host is eating, paying such close attention to the food that they begin to experience it physically, possibly even moving the mouth to eat without realizing it.

However, not all tulpas understand the idea of "connecting" to the body's senses, especially tulpas used to living their days in a mindscape. Quite simply, this can be done through intuition and trial and error, or through symbolic means that translate to the act of connecting. It boils down to: what seems logical? For every tulpa, this is highly subjective and there is no flawless method that can be taught.

One must also keep in mind that following these steps may not be successful the first attempt or even after multiple attempts. Rather, a tulpa may take time learning how to focus on a particular sense, or possibly learning how to focus so intently in any sense. One day may be a day filled with progress, but said progress is halted by a singular part, mileage will vary between systems.

Possession for Nonhuman Tulpas

Not every tulpa takes on a human appearance, or even an appearance that matches a human's general shape. Though a tulpa is not quite literally their form, there are some tulpas who are quite connected to their form in a sense either through means of identity or simply out of fondness for their appearance. For tulpas in this category, possession or fronting at all can be uncomfortable or possibly unpleasant due to the contrast between the body and the tulpa's form; this connection with the tulpa's form can also impact how they act whilst in control such as mannerisms, walking style, or even voice to a notable degree.

Common advice to counteract this is for the tulpa to temporarily take a human form when fronting to ease the bodily dysphoria, yet, there are tulpas who are uncomfortable with that idea and would prefer to avoid it. This section is intended for tulpas who are uncomfortable with changing their form just to front.

A simple way to ease the discomfort of body dysphoria is to accept any "quirky" fronting mannerisms, opting to embrace them instead of fully attempting to act like a human. Walking on toes, using hands in a way that is considered odd, even imposing one's own form over the body to whatever capacity within reason (typically known as "phantom limbs" if this includes adding otherwise nonexistent limbs). Unless it is necessary not to out the system as plural to others the system is not out to yet, allow oneself to be nonhuman in nature regardless of if they are currently using a human body.

Another method is to have the mindset of, "I am not actually a human, just a nonhuman taking control of a human body," much like the more fantastical definition of possession many are familiar with. This mindset can create a disconnect that may ease the dysphoria, especially for tulpas who solely identify as a singular or set form.

Choose articles of clothing or accessories that match the form or at minimum, mask the human shape such as hoodies or sweatpants. One can also avoid staring at the body in the mirror or undressing, but this can have the negative consequences of becoming more and more avoidant of the body, which is not ideal if one wishes to become at least somewhat accustomed with it.

Conclusion

Being able to control a physical body can be a wonderful opportunity to grow as a person, form relationships and bond with new people, and to have meaningful impact on the world. Possession in of itself may not be a tedious challenge, but it also may not be a breeze a tulpa and host can accomplish within a day. Remember that this guide and strategy are one of many; do not feel shackled to a particular method if it is simply not working out. Every host and tulpa's experiences with possession will vary to some degree, and that is the beauty of such a thing, as it allows for many to share their experiences and knowledge that can reach out to benefit others.

I do hope this guide aids my fellow tulpas.

Please consider supporting us on Ko-Fi if you found this guide useful.

This is a slightly improved iteration of my guide, as I was unaware that we had never posted it on this blog. However, the body of the content remains identical to the Tulpa.info and Tulpanomicon iterations of the guide.

7-21-2024

[jax-winchester]

The Gilmore Girls biggest fault is ruining already established great characters. Very long ramble and its just my opinion. Please read and tell me your thoughts but be nice!

Dean

Dean was a great character in the beginning! He was a dreamy, slightly mysterious, new kid from Chicago who worked on cars. His initial attraction to Rory is because of how intently she reads, Lane says he is thrilled when he hears Rory has been accepted to the prestigious private school Chilton. Then the writers dumb him down, Rory’s love of books bores him, he doesn’t care about her pursuit of an Ivy League education, he cheats on his wife with Rory.

Jess

Now I do really like Jess but his character was basically just an edgier version of Deans original character. Dreamy new boy from New York, mysterious, and he also notices how much Rory likes to read, but he likes reading too. However, to set them apart Jess has an attitude and is mischievous. Jess makes it known he has a thing for Rory pretty much since he’s introduced (Like Dean). It makes Jess look like a jerk. Since he’s literally encouraging Rory to leave her boyfriend for him. Then they do get into a relationship! Jess’s attitude just grows and grows. Some of his actions towards Rory are inexcusable. Then ✨poof✨ he just disappears. Jess was a complex character with a bad past, the show really could have leaned into that. We could have seen more character growth. But nope! (Also side note I think Jess and Paris would have been a great couple)

Marty

Marty was a funny new guy Rory meets at college. We first see him when He and Rory show up extra early to their first class (showing one of their similarities). Then, his first introduction is Rory finding him butt naked in front of her dorm. (My personal favorite introduction). He also has a slightly similar financial situation as Rory. While yes Rory’s grandparents have money Rory doesn’t. What money she gets from Emily and Richard comes with strings. Marty is always working odd jobs to help put him through school. He isn’t a trust fund kid and while I think Rory has a trust fund. She does know what its like not to have money. Lets not forget Lorelai and Rory lived in a shed! (But yeah Rory is pretty spoiled by the end) They have similar sense of humors and they like the same movies! He was really sweet (also cute) and he was a perfect new friend for Rory. But Noooo, he just had to have feelings for her. Then, he disappears for like 3? seasons and pops up like 2 more times.

Paris

Paris was a highly competitive, extremely smart, and witty student. (Also slightly a bitch but love her though). Paris and Rory pushed each other to do better in their classes. We find out though Paris is more than just a strong student. She has home life issues and struggles with self esteem. She also has had a long time crush on cute classmate Tristian. There is some focus on Paris’s issues with self-esteem especially when she meets Jamie and she mentions her bad home life. But, her home life is treated more or less as an ongoing joke. I think Paris’s issues should have been taken more seriously. Especially when she goes to Yale after her breakdown when she isn’t accepted into Harvard. But, when Paris goes to Yale she’s basically just a joke. Her issues are solved by her obsession with arts and crafts? She still has anger issues and takes control over things. Like the newspaper and then CHEATS on her great boyfriend Jamie. I don’t have anything really against Doyle. Im just not a fan of how they did Paris’s character.

Lane

Its pretty universally agreed that Lane was done wrong. Lane was a great kid! The show really could have done so much more with Lane’s religious trauma. Also, with the fact Lane gets kicked out. Not to mention the Dave situation. AMAZING boyfriend Dave. I get it the actor left to star in The OC but Zach? Why not add a new member to the band? Create a nice new character, maybe a member of a different band thats playing at the same placed they are. But Nope! She marries Zach, has an awful experience with sex, then gets pregnant with twins. Zach slept around plenty before Lane, you’d think he would be better with birth control. 🤷🏻‍♀️

That’s enough rambling for now.

[loosingmoreletters]

hi! I found you on AO3 literally yesterday and I am in love with the way you write! thank you very much for sharing those works of art.

and for the ask game:

Write a scene from champagne for your riddles in another characters POV

aah thank you so much!!! I'm glad you enjoyed it! and I was hoping somebody would pick the scene rewrite hahaha

Ants who imagine themselves as gods circle his brother like parasites. They flutter around him like annoying flies, utterly unaware that this entire circus is beneath his brother.

Yoohyun’s eyes briefly scan the room, rest on that bastard sung Hyunjae.

He’s no insect, but Yoohyun wants to crush him beneath his feet all the same. He’s grown sick and tired of all these people demanding his brother’s attention when they were so quick and happy to attempt their separation.

“Hyung,” Yoohyun calls his brother and wraps an arm around his waist.

His brother is warm, warmer than any fire dancing beneath Yoohyun’s fingertips. He wants to summon his flames, have them swallow the world whole and leave only him and his brother behind.

“Yoohyun,” his brother returns his call as he always does, his attention drifting away from all the strangers, focused just on him again. “I was just finishing up the discussion on trading materials.”

Yoohyun’s eyes narrow as he casts a second glance at the pests surrounding them. “Haeyeon has no need to rely on outside traders.”

It’s what they built their guild up for – a place just for him and his brother, an impenetrable castle.

But castles need defenses, his brother explained to him before – a sentiment Yoohyun understand well but does not want to follow in practice. What need does he have for guards when he’s a monster all by himself? His brother needs no further protection as long as he sleeps within Yoohyun’s grasp.

His brother smiles at him, half an act for the underserving, half his genuine adoration. He puts his hand on Yoohyun’s arm, reminiscent of their childhood. Yoohyun wishes he’d take his hand instead, lead him home again.

“It’s still good to learn what the other guilds are up to, Yoohyun-ah. Is there anything I can help you with?”

It’s a phrase Yoohyun recognizes, the introduction to this play his brother crafted.

Satisfaction purrs in the back of Yoohyun’s throat.

“You forgot your new cane.”

The item has been in Yoojin’s possession until just before they entered the hall, upon which it entered Yoohyun’s inventory just for this singular moment. Yoohyun does not always understand why his brother delights so much in his scheming, in his presentation. He knows it frustrates the other members of their guild that Yoohyun is so unwilling to do anything for their image unless his brother desires him to, but he does not know how to care.

Following his brother is all he has ever done.

Sung Hyunjae’s eyes gleam with interest.

It takes all of Yoohyun’s self-control to keep himself from ripping out his throat.

[obsidian-pages777]

Pick a Card: A Love letter for an Introvert.[Pick a mythical aesthetic]

Pile 1-Fairy core, Pile 2-Water Nymph core, Pile 3- Witch core. Left->Right

If You Liked This Reading Sign up to TheObsidianPages777 Newsletter

+Free E-Guides on New Moon Manifestation and Gem Stone for Life Path

Introduction

These are love letters to each one of you that picks a pile and if you happen to be an introverted soul walking on this earthly realm of existence give this reading a glance. I hope this works as a perfect- pick me up- for anytime of your day, whether you are stuck with massive amounts of boredom, back home from a tough work day or school day or even if you happen to be trying to find that quiet corner that you feel the most comfortable in, in this loud bustling world. Hope this gives you a sense of reassurance and peace.

The Music to help you today is in the link below:

Aurora- Your Blood

================================================================================================

Pile 1

Dearest Gentle Soul,

I write to you today with a heart full of admiration, for I have watched you navigate the winding paths of life with such grace and quiet determination. You have some qualities that you may not always see in yourself, but that shine brightly to those who take the time to look closely.

You have accomplished so much, my fren. The battles you’ve fought, though often silent and unseen by others, have shaped you into the remarkable person you are today. The world may not always recognize the quiet victories, but I see them in every step you take. Each obstacle you’ve overcome has been a testament to your resilience, a reminder of the power that lies within you.

Be proud, for you have come so far. You have faced challenges that others may never understand, and you’ve emerged stronger, wiser, and more compassionate and determined. Your journey is one of quiet triumphs, and though the road ahead may still hold its share of trials, remember that you are more than capable of continuing to rise above them.

With every achievement, no matter how small, you are crafting a life that is uniquely yours—a life built on the foundations of strength, courage, and self-belief. So take a moment, to bask in the glory of all you have done. Let pride fill your heart, for you have earned it a thousand times over.

With all my love,

Your Fairy Companion [wink wink]

================================================================================================

Pile 2

Beloved Introverted Heart,

Today, I find myself compelled to remind you of the extraordinary beauty that lies within you. Your soul tells a tale of someone with a soul as deep and vast as the ocean, filled with nuances and subtleties that are rare and precious.

Your uniqueness is a gift, a treasure that sets you apart in a world that often celebrates the loudest voices. It is your quiet nature, your introspection, that allows you to see the world in ways that others might miss. You notice the details, the small moments of magic that others overlook. You bring thoughtfulness, understanding, and a calm presence that is a balm to those around you.

There is a power in your stillness, a wisdom in your reflection. You are not meant to conform to the expectations of others, for you are a rare gem, one that sparkles brightest in its own light. Appreciate these qualities, for they are what make you so incredibly special.

Do not seek to change or mold yourself into something you are not. Instead, embrace the beauty of your introverted nature. It is in your quiet strength that you find your true power, in your gentle spirit that you touch the lives of others in profound ways. It is okay to retreat from this loud world from time to time. The world needs your unique light, and it shines most brilliantly when you allow yourself to simply be.

With appreciation,

Your Friend from Seas Apart

================================================================================================

Pile 3

Dearest Kindred Spirit,

I see the path you walk, and I am here to tell you that you are doing incredibly well. The cards reveal a journey that is not always easy, but one that you continue to face with unwavering dedication. You work hard, often without the recognition you deserve, yet you keep moving forward with quiet determination.

I want you to know that your efforts are not in vain. Every step you take, every task you complete, brings you closer to the life you are striving to create. It is in these small, consistent efforts that great achievements are born. You may not always see the progress, but it is there, building with each passing day.

Take heart, darling, for you are on the right path. Your hard work is a testament to your strength of character, your commitment to your goals. Even on the days when it feels like the weight of the world is on your shoulders, know that you have the power to carry it. You are stronger than you realize, more capable than you give yourself credit for.

Do not lose faith in yourself, for the journey ahead is bright with possibility. Keep pushing forward, even when the road seems long. Your dreams are within reach, and your hard work is the key that will unlock them. Remember, you are not alone on this path—your angels walk with you, cheering you on every step of the way.

With unwavering encouragement,

Your Witchy Companion.

[lotus-tower]

somehow when writing all this I forgot about the prosthetic phallus. gintoki the true protagonist whose sword is made all the more sword-like because its non-literality conveys more efficiently that what it embodies is the swordconcept—prosthetic also because it’s being forged before our eyes (though without us noticing at first). gintama says “if you don’t have your own, store-bought is fine” about the great institution of the Cool Signature Shounen Sword, which is funny, but mainly gintama posits that in the end you have to craft your own with everyone’s help anyway.

it’s then really interesting for gintoki’s evil clone to have, quite literally, a prosthetic dick. and kintoki knows that the dick is the key, that the dick is fundamental to gintama’s language of worth and its basic fabric—and he clearly understands that non-literality, that prostheticness is okay. in fact, maybe from his perspective, being designed to be what he is, the cold “facts” of gintoki as a character are quite obvious to him—blueprint data he was given as part of his construction. he at no point seems to have any real investment in the idea of being a human vs being a robot. he’s here to usurp gintoki as an animanga character, as a protagonist, so it really doesn’t matter. whether he’s artificial doesn’t really matter—according to his instructions manual gintoki is also artificial. and so someone as arrogant and self-absorbed yet relationally aware as kintoki feels neither inferior nor superior for being a literal robot.

but he doesn’t understand it, not really. he doesn’t understand the whys of the prosthetic phallus or the gintama swordconcept in general. this is, of course, because he isn’t gintoki but was instead designed to be Golden Boy Alpha Male gintoki, and gintama is fundamentally a story based in loserspace. by which I mean not an “objective” space where all losers go (kintoki is obviously a loser too), but a space focused on, preoccupied with, and making productive, loserhood. every part of kintoki’s body was designed in a way that makes him fundamentally incompatible with this, so of course he doesn’t understand.

tama, like lake toya, is a character whose artificial nature only serves to make her thematic package starker and easier to receive. gintama is generally blunt in its messages. just like lake toya is more sword-like by visibly carrying the naked idea of the sword, tama is made more human by being a robot that gained sentience through the Magic Humanity-Granting Seed. gengai’s introductory episode also very effectively used a hollow robot holding a very tender and sincere message inside it for sentimental effect. this is also a reminder that the first time we meet gengai, he’s constructed artificial facsimiles of his son—not meant to replace him, though, but rather for him to project his emotions on, and to embody a certain kind of will.

so by the time of kintoki’s introduction, we know that robots can be sentient, and this doesn’t really require any real storytelling or justification. and we know that gengai isn’t the type of character to actually think a robot can replace a person, as that person—rather, he built kintoki because he agreed with shinpachi and kagura that gintoki was fucking annoying, and he built kintoki to replace gintoki instrumentally. and, to his credit, kintoki does what he’s designed to do. and he doesn’t want to replace gintoki as a person—he does understand his assignment, he understands the blueprint data, he understands the instructions manual. if he wanted to replace gintoki as gintoki, he would have killed him from the getgo. he wants to replace gintoki as the main character, instrumentally, and for this purpose making gintoki part of his harem serves to convey how effective he’s been at accomplishing his goal.

he reboots the world as a vapid moe harem because that’s the kind of series that is most straightforwardly built around how important, unique, and special the main character is. he has no use for loserspace—he reads the abridged gintama script and sees that the ensemble cast must trust him, rely on him, and have their hearts moved by him—and he’s like, well, okay, but why is he a loser then? it would be more efficient like this.

which is to say, kintoki understands that he must be the recipient of all these relationships and emotions, but he fundamentally does not understand Hole. many, many people project all sorts of things onto gintoki. gengai projected his grief over his son onto his (very much non-sentient, yet all the more endearing as a carrier for it) robot. no one can project onto kintoki. kintoki understands that he’s empty inside—he’s a robot, after all, and he’s like two weeks old, and he sees the script, he sees that gintoki is too, it all checks out—he sees that gintama is lame, that it’s stupid, that it’s gross, that time doesn’t pass meaningfully, that time can keep cycling—so why not turn it into an incel fantasy harem? What is the difference between his dick joke and gintoki’s (gintama’s) dick joke? It’s still a dick?

I think that gintama’s lack of interest in engaging with dichotomies like human and non-human (in the biological or racial sense), organic and inorganic, is a large driving force behind what gives kintoki an interesting, understated texture. again, he is not concerned with being a robot. if anything, he is assured by it, he’s certain in his purpose and his goals and his ability to achieve them. there is no insecurity over being a hunk of metal, there is no insecurity about his humanity or lack thereof (see, he can just take his head off to wash it), there isn’t even loneliness despite him being one android in a huge city of people unlike him, because the protagonist is inherently a lonely role anyway (and gintoki is human and still lonely among humans). he feels no envy or animosity towards flesh.

instead, you could almost argue that he’s secure in artificiality. he thinks that because his dick is prosthetic, he can succeed as the main character. because his dick is prosthetic, it will last when others wither. because his dick is prosthetic, the world will revolve around him. it’s a fascinating concept, to have a main character with a prosthetic phallus for the sake of an embodied spiritsword, and to then create an evil clone of him who fixates on the prosthetic, and literalizes the wrong part of the metaphor. or maybe, literalizes it in the opposite direction? rather than the prosthetic (wooden) sword being a vessel for the thematic spirit of gintama, it’s gintama’s spirit—understood here not incorrectly by kintoki as its places, relationships, and symbols—that are twisted in service of the prosthetic sword, to highlight how shiny and prosthetic it is, how golden and stainless and immortal.

all this because he doesn’t understand hole. classic straight man mistake