#which is basically code for 'stay busy' and like

[hells-greatestdad]

// one of those days where all the sounds of the grocery store ambience be triggering a constant startle response and even people talking to me (such as a customer right in front of me) is kinda overwhelming

But how am I supposed to explain "I don't want to help you right now because I can hear absolutely everything and it's hard to be anything but distracted and irritable"

[windixie]

the perfect pair ⟢ ch. 1 broken cd

satoru gojo x reader ꒰18+꒱ smut, angst, fluff

⟡ pairing . college au soccer player! gojo x alt! reader

› summary . in which opposites actually attract. you're not the kind of girl who seeks validation from anyone as your world is surrounded by indie films, music, and clothing. meanwhile, satoru lives in a completely different world from you. the campus soccer star who practically radiates confidence and popularity. but that doesn't stop satoru from attempting to throw himself at you, with his playful grins and teasing but loving comments. but before you can accept his advances, a certain party exposes who he truly is and now he is left determined to change himself for you.

› warnings ⓘ tags . 18+, fem! reader, smut, angst, fluff, college au (have syracuse university in mind), friends to lovers (reader hates him, he thinks otherwise), slow burn, jealousy, some suguru x reader because he doesn't respect bro code or wtv.

› wc . 1.1k

⟡ taglist . @unreleasedlana11

cd's are actually expensive.

well at least for you actually, only because you happen to listen to artists that are no longer active and have to buy discontinued cd's through sketchy websites that definitely overcharge. you couldn't judge though, easy money for the seller. your bank account disagrees.

you promise yourself that this will be the last cd you buy - till you're financially stable again. the disc nearly cost you 60 bucks plus taxes and shipping, 80.99. that greedy seller. regardless you were happy especially when you got the notification from the app telling you that your order has arrived.

at your college you had to walk all the way towards the front where the school mailboxes were located. the second you stepped foot outside your dorm, which, thankfully you had all to yourself because for some reason you weren't assigned a roommate, you are hit with the sound of cheering. the soccer team has just returned from a tournament.

including satoru gojo.

you knew of the boy. you knew he was the most known player in the school. and i'm not just talking about soccer. in each frat party he has to get in at least two bodies. he has a whole line of girls patiently waiting for their turn to warm up the white haired boys bed.

he's everything.. you hated in a guy.

how do girls go crazy over him? he's deadass the most basic boy you are sure each college in the state has. but you couldn't help but stay a bit to watch as all the boys make their way through the applauding crowd. a new face emerged from the bus, all looking proud. they must've won.

you were pulled away from your thoughts when his face appeared. suguru. he was best friends with gojo. you can't help but stare. his piercings, long hair, style that was different from the rest, just like you. it's hard to not notice him.

you almost don't realize who's looking at you instead. your eyes meet with satoru for a brief moment before you continue making your way to the central mail room, not allowing your brain to even process the eye contact.

as he made his way out the busy, satoru is met with a crowd of students cheering. he smirks as he kept the conversation going with his friends. he knows how attractive he is. not every one is 'blessed' to have a body count of half the schools girl population.

he knows how good he is. so why is it that when his eyes land on you, his heart skips a beat. he's never seen you before, why now? why does he like the way your hair frames your face so beautifully and the way your outfit compliments your body so well?

he felt his world stop for just a second when your eyes finally met his. a split second.

you unlocked your assigned mailbox after reaching the central. other students were there as well looking at letters from their family back at home or the same reason as you, a package. your eyes lit up as you took out the perfectly wrapped cd. .

not wasting one more second, you carefully unwrap it. here it is, finally in your hands after a month of waiting and two days worth of hard labor. the light reflected like heaven itself shining upon you from the glossy surface. you flipped it over, reading through the track list as you locked your mailbox once again not even bothering to check if there's any other letters in your box.

right as you turned, you bumped into something hard, causing your cd to slip from your hands, the sound of it hitting the floor haunting you.

it broke.

and so did your heart.

no. no way.

a month of waiting. money wasted. just for the cd to slip right out your hands.

okay you're being dramatic, it obviously didn't break. but the impact caused the case to open once it fell on the floor. the cd might just have a few scratches. one scratch is one scratch too many though.

"shit, sorry about that."

you lifted up your head to look at the one responsible for this.

satoru.

the satoru himself was in front of you giving you another reason to dislike him. he looked at you with his eyes widening a bit. its you. the girl he saw from earlier. he crouched down, placing his bag on the ground next to his feet to pick up your disc, carefully placing it back in the case. definitely not a band he was familiar with.

he handed it back to you, his hand touching yours slightly.

"here pretty, am sorry again."

your eyes narrowed. "It’s fine," you said, trying to keep your cool. "Not like you can fix it."

his eyes watched you push past him and they trailed past you until you were out of his view.

he finally got the chance to talk to you which he's been wanting to do since he's know you which was only like 20 minutes.

he couldn't help but smile to himself as he opened up his own mailbox, stuffed with fan mail.

a few scratches as you suspected. it shouldn't affect your listening experience.

you placed the now damaged disc in your cd player which was gifted to you by your parents on your sixteenth birthday. the music filled up your room in a nice and warm space.

you sank down on your mattress closing your eyes to enjoy the listening experience. no amount of scratched could ruin this.

they did.

your eyes shot open as the cd started to tweak out not even three minutes into the track list. guess the damage really was done. its all his fault. satoru gojo.

"no..please.." you begged taking out the cd to look at it again seeing that you missed a crack running right through it.

it was all his fault. you barely knew him but now that you had your first ever encounter you had all the reason to despise him. there's no way you will be able to listen to your 80.99 worth cd with there being glitching every other song.

you couldn’t shake the image of satoru standing there, his awkward attempt at helping, the way his gaze had softened for a brief moment. you'd make him buy you a new one, that being if the discontinued cd was even out there anymore.

what if you bought the last one ever?

you groaned into your pillow.

that's it you're throwing a bf.

a bitch fit.

[merbear25]

For Kinktober, can I please request Sensual Massage with Sanji?

Hey! Hope you've been well. I think I got a bit carried away with this 🤭 Hope you like it 💜🧡

You’d been working yourself to the bone for what felt like forever. It’d been a while since you did anything for yourself. Among some of your female coworkers, there was word buzzing of a spa that could offer more than just the typical services.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem!reader, some fluff, vaginal fingering, sex work

Tender hands (Sanji)

Rubbing your neck, you lingered over by the water cooler ideally. With your boss piling heaps of assignments on you, the stress of responsibility was affecting you physically.

“Feeling alright?” Your coworker chirped.

You glanced over at her and gave her a reassuring smile. “Yeah, just a bit overwhelmed if I’m being honest.”

The older woman nodded. She showed some hesitation to continue, deciding to take a quick look around to avoid any of your nosey colleagues.

“Between you and me,” she leaned in. “I was feeling the same as you not too long ago. But then, I discovered this spa and let me tell you, those masseuses certainly have magic fingers.”

The implications had you nervously fidgeting. “Oh, yeah?” You smiled politely.

She reached into her purse and pulled out a card. “Here, darling,” she soothed your nerves. “You go here and tell them you want this special. They’ll take good care of you.” She grinned at you before shuffling away to her cubicle.

Glancing at the card, you saw that the phrase ‘Sundae’ was scribbled on the back. You promptly shoved it into your pocket before continuing the workday—the business card seemingly burning for you to give into your curiosity.

Staying behind the others to finish the last bit of paperwork you’d been given. The heavy footsteps of your boss was the most dreaded sound imaginable.

“Just got these in. I’ll need these by the end of next week.” The way he smiled came off as if he thought he was doing you a favor by extending the due date. He patted the stack before excusing himself for the evening. He called back a ‘see you tomorrow’ with his back turned to you, waving lazily.

Rubbing your eyes from exhaustion, you could hear the strange offer from earlier calling out to you. As you stared at the card, you felt yourself being pulled more and more into temptation. It was such a bizarre recommendation, one which your curiosity couldn’t resist seeing through.

Upon arriving at the location, the dim lights made you second guess the hours. No, it should still be open. The door wasn’t locked but the lights were kept suspiciously low.

You tapped on the service bell and anxiously waited for someone. No more than a few moments must have passed before your nerves started getting the best of you. Wondering what on earth you were doing there, you slowly turned towards the door.

“Sorry to keep you waiting!” You heard a friendly voice call out.

“Oh! No, it’s fine… I-I don’t really know if I’ve got the right place actually.”

“What is it that you’re looking for?” The blonde man’s face made him appear kind and his voice was rather comforting.

You peeked down at the card and said in an almost mousey tone, “A sundae?” What a ridiculous code name… you thought to yourself.

His eyes lit up. “Ohh, okay,” he let out a good-natured chuckle. “First time?” The rhetorical question made you stumble over your words.

“Don’t worry. There’s no judgment here and everything will be kept confidential.” 

As he talked you through the basics, wanting to be sure this was something you were fully aware of and consented to, you were so flustered that you nodded and agreed to nearly everything he said.

“You can say ‘no’ if this isn’t for you, you know.” It came from a place of concern due to your unnatural eagerness.

“N-no! I…I want to do this. I’ve just never done anything like it before,” you admitted.

“In that case, I can assure you that you won’t regret it.”

He led you towards one of the massage rooms in the back. He informed you that he needed to prepare some of the oils and that you should go ahead and undress and lay down on the table. Giving you a warm smile, he left you momentarily.

Looking around the room, the candles gently placed throughout were not yet lit and the colors were an earthy tone, which did well to set a calming atmosphere.

Laying down on the table, you buried your face into the headrest in an attempt to hide your shame. As you were lost in your thoughts, the door clicking pulled you out of your fog.

As he apologized for the delay, he kept the conversation friendly and open in an attempt to ease those nerves of yours. He lit the candles and pressed play on the playlist, which was set to peaceful sounds of nature.

The squirts of warm massage oil coaxed a slight shiver from you.

“Is it too cold?”

“No, just wasn’t expecting it.”

His laugh was soft, endearing even. When his hands found their way to your back, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. As his touch kneaded over your sore spots, your murmurs signaled for him to be gentle. When he came across tight knots, his skillful fingers worked them out—your soft moans being the encouragement he needed.

He focused on your lower back, and then eventually your glutes and thighs. You clung to the table in anticipation, only to be hushed by Sanji, “Just relax.”

He watched your movements closely, trying to gauge how you were feeling. Your legs parting gave him his answer. Massaging your inner thighs, his thumbs pressed small circles into your fatty flesh. The oil was warming your skin, making his fingers the welders of your pleasure.

Working his way closer to your pussy lips, your arousal was obvious—the wetness glistening slightly even in the dimly lit room. His thumbs tenderly massaged around your labias, which made the slick between them seep out a little. His other fingers kneaded your ass, causing you to involuntarily arch your back. The sweet moans coming out of you filled the room. As one was placed on your hip, rubbing it gently, the other traced over your folds.

Your body quaked and your breath hitched in your throat. The warmth from the oils was fanning the flames within you. His fingers glided over your clit, prompting your hips to shake and a whimper to pass over your soft lips.

His thumb circled over your sensitive bundle. Each gasp and tremble only made him work you harder to squeeze each euphoric laced cry out of you. As you groaned from your orgasm, his hands returned to your back—his hands firmer in order to work out the lingering bit of ecstasy.

He moved to your shoulders, letting you enjoy the stress of the day being released. Your huffs and soft pants were subsiding, which meant you were perfect for the next round.

Your hips were the center of attention again. The masseuse’s hands roamed over them, being sure to give an ample amount of affection to your lower back and sides, as well. You whimpered while his fingers teased your entrance. Instinctively, you bucked your hips slightly into his touch, yearning to be completely and utterly satisfied.

Though you couldn’t see his face, it held a look of relief. Seeing his clients go from a nervous and stressed wreck to ones so willing to put their trust in him never ceased to leave him in awe of their courage, their beauty.

He plunged one finger in to start. As your body adjusted to it, he could feel your walls spasming already. The feeling of a gorgeous woman coming undone from his touch was like no other. He couldn’t help but give in.

“That’s it, my sweet thing,” he cooed at you. “Just let go.”

He put another finger in you, followed by another shortly after. Your cries of ecstasy were making his head spin. Watching you grip at the table, the way you convulsed on his fingers, and the faint slapping of his hand against your slit: you were a depiction of pure angelic imagery.

Your groans and pants were evident that you were close to that long sought after edge. Leaning in slightly, he whispered for you to cum for him. Burying your face into the softened table, you could feel yourself slipping. 

Filling you completely with his experienced fingers, your body couldn’t hold on any longer. Your cries of reaching the peak of euphoria sounded throughout the room. As he guided you through your orgasm, a faint smile found its way to your spent complexion. Your body, now totally relaxed, went limp on the table.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice still raspy from your high.

Your politeness was much too sweet. He rubbed your hips again, beaming down at you. “That wasn’t so bad then, was it? You did great.”

He gave you some time to get dressed as he rang you up. Exchanging pleasant chit-chat, his inviting demeanor might be the most intoxicating thing about him.

When he handed you your receipt, his fingers ran lightly along yours. With a friendly grin, he added, “Hope to see you again.”

Your heart was pounding so hard against your chest, it was as if it was about to leap out of you. Once in your car, your eyes caught sight of a small note he left on the paper.

“Come by anytime during the evening on weekdays. I’ll be here to help you relax. Xoxo.”

Fawning over the note, you made sure to drop by every once in a while. Who knew? Maybe there was something other than business to explore.

[leighsartworks216]

In Your Silence (I Hear You)

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Requested by @ghulehh666:

"Just had this idea for so long in my head, basically astarion x tav(gn). Tav is really antisocial, never visits tavern or such, and prefers to stay somewhere quiet and alone or with Astarion. When they have to talk, their ability to speak sometimes randomly locks out and doesn’t know what to say."

I know you said antisocial but I kinda went further and made it more social anxiety or autism-coded

Also I still have not played the game or seen much gameplay so some things may be inaccurate and stuff

Warnings: going through a busy crowd, brief mention of nails digging into skin, some sensory issues (touch, sound)

Word Count: 1,287

Masterlist

AO3

You were holding on for dear life. Your arms curled tightly around Astarion’s, eyes scanning every which-a-way. Unfortunately, this was a rather common occurrence.

Before all this, you kept to yourself. Perhaps to an extreme. You avoided going outside, you didn’t speak to anyone for as long as you could help it, and you were quite happy like this. Dealing with other people was always a headache, and never near worth it, but staying alone? The only person you could be irritated with was yourself.

And then you got kidnapped. And somehow, somehow everyone chose you as the one to save the world. You couldn’t stay alone anymore. Too much was at stake. But sometimes it was all too much. Too loud, too demanding, too… everything.

Astarion didn’t know what to make of you upon first meeting. He’d assumed you were working with the damn Illithid, but when he insisted you just kept shaking your head. Truly, he’d have thought you were mute, if he’d not seen you talking with the damned creatures. Now that it’s been weeks, he knew you better than the rest. After all, it was his tent you ran to when you needed quiet, and, even more than that, it was him you trusted to find your voice when you couldn’t.

That’s how you ended up in this bustling market street, clinging to him as he smoothly guided you through swaths of people. He was used to navigating crowds. His eyes sought out slightly-more-open gaps and he’d be able to slip through with no issues. Alone, that is. With you, the strategy was a little different. Not only did he have to get himself through, but you as well. He could only imagine what the weaving pattern he took to find even-more-open gaps in the sea of people looked like from above.

The street never seemed to end. More and more people entered from either end. Stall owners barked out calls to potential customers. Everyone was shoving to get where they needed to go. Astarion was tired of it. The only reason you’d turned down here was to find one specific stall for some spices Gale wanted. He’d stopped looking for the stall long ago, leaving that task to you.

Toward the end of the street, though still quite far from any freedom, you squeezed his arm and planted your feet. He stopped immediately. Your eyes were set on one of the stalls - a table filled with handfuls of herbs, small bundles of them tied together with string. He sighed through his nose. Gale better damn well be happy for all the trouble this is.

Astarion placed a hand over yours on his arm, searching for any opening in the river of people going around you both. He could feel the anxiety radiating from you the longer it took. As soon as there was even a hint of a gap, he pulled you through.

Trying to walk through the hoard rather than with it was a nightmare. You were jostled and bumped into by everyone. Astarion wanted to switch you to his other side to act as a human shield, but doing so risked losing you to the flood. And when you finally got through, finally standing in front of the one stall you came here for, you felt it. Like a switch, your throat felt leaden. Your vocal chords were heavy. It seems preserving your voice for this moment did not help at all.

“Hi! Welcome, welcome! What can I get for you today?” the stall-keeper beckoned. Astarion had to fight to keep his eyes from rolling. All traders were always too cheery, overacting as they tried to play nice to convince you to buy more.

The vampire turned his focus to you. You still held onto his arm, but it was a little more relaxed. Your nails weren’t digging into his arm, at least. (You always apologized profusely when your voice came back, even when he brushed off your concerns of hurting him or, worse, being a nuisance.) You searched the table, eyes roaming stacks of small spices and bundles of large herbs. Astarion had no idea exactly what Gale’d asked for. He trusted you remembered.

A moment passed, and then you were pointing at a small cloth bag, round and full. The attendant lit up. “That’s our special blend! It contains all you need for any meal! Just one pinch and your mouth will thank you for it!” When they said the price, Astarion saw you retreating in on yourself. It was a lot to ask for one small sachet, though it looked like it would last several weeks if conserved properly.

Before you could even formulate an apology to Gale for his damn herbs and spices being too gods damned expensive, Astarion was pulling out his coin purse and counting out the gold. “We’ll take one.”

The attendant picked up the sachet by its drawstrings and plopped it into your hesitant hand. You squeezed his arm - you didn’t like that he was paying for it. He handed over the money, and pulled you back into the throng of people.

It wasn’t long before you were at the end of the street and being tugged along to a quiet side-road as there was no longer a need to slow down to glance at each stall. As soon as the people thinned out to a manageable level, you let go of his arm and reached for your own coin purse.

“Please, love, you don’t need to pay me back.” He covered your hand holding the purse, preventing you from opening it. “Besides, I will be more than happy to discuss repayment with the Wizard.”

You gave him a disapproving look. He just rolled his eyes.

“Was acting quickly to get you out of that mess as soon as possible not what you wanted?”

You glared harder. “Don’t twist it,” you muttered. The weight was still there, but being out of the crowd had helped enough. Though, it seemed heavier now that you have spoken… Damn.

He chuckled airily. “Hate to admit I was working outside of my own self-interests for once?” You raised a brow at him. “Well, aside from having Gale in my pocket, until he compensates me for the loss.”

You huffed and put your coin purse away, tucking the sachet away in the process. Your hand found his arm immediately after. He didn’t even react as you gripped onto the fabric of his sleeve. At first, he’d been a bit scandalized, complaining that you’d wrinkle it or pull at the embroidery. He almost… enjoyed it. The simple act of keeping each other close, relying on him to act as an anchor. It felt nice to be needed.

He noticed before you that your feet were beginning to drag. The sole of your boots scraped on the street every couple steps, not to mention how you slowed down ever so slightly. He smiled knowingly, resting his hand over yours on his arm once more. It was reminiscent of nobles strolling along, prim and proper.

“Come on, dear,” he encouraged smoothly. “Once we return I can read that mystery novel to you.”

You grabbed onto his arm with your other hand, pulling yourself closer to rest your head against him. You had a tired little smile on your face. How unfortunate such outings were so much on their leader. He’d probably get two lines in before you passed out in his mess of pillows.

“Though, it is rather obvious who the culprit is.”

You pinched his arm.

“No, my being a magistrate has nothing to do with it,” he chastised. “It’s hardly my fault I’m more observant than you, dear.”

[starlightrosa]

Hey! I got one for digital circus! If you’re not wanting to do it thats totally cool!

With Caine being AI and not having a previous life outside the circus, I think he would be rather confused and intrigued by tickles once he found out about it. And knowing Caine, he’d probably wanna test it out on all the circus members just cause their reactions would be amusing to him and fluffyness would ensue!

That is all, have a wonderful day Lovley!

Smile For Me

Summary: Caine's a bit fed up at the fact that his circus crew just will not smile. So he takes it upon himself to make them smile, and along the way, he finds out some very useful information about each of them.

Word Count: 2.2k words

Warnings: censored swearing, Caine is a teasy AI, cute alert.

A/N: ahhhhh nonnie i'm so sorry this is late! I've been so busy, and then I got sick which took me out for a while :( thankfully i'm no longer bedbound and managed to complete it this morning <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caine was a bit fed up today. Everything just seemed so dull. His circus cast weren’t having fun at all. His adventures weren’t being well-received, and everyone just seemed so gosh darn grumpy! Caine tried to get everyone used to the circus when they first arrived. He assumed wacky fun was how to make anyone laugh or even a smile to appear on their faces. But Caine didn’t hear a single giggle from anyone, nor see a grin. And it was starting to frustrate him.

Sure, he might only be some lines of coding and a program within a game, but why was it so hard to bring smiles to these kinds of people?! Something had to give, and Caine pondered this even as he worked on his top secret project in the Void, his Wacky Watch beeping occasionally to track the crew’s movements, ensuring they were staying in the bounds of the circus. And luckily, they all were.

Maybe it was the project annoying Caine, but his fingers twitched as the AI pulsated with extra energy. This sometimes happened, but it felt worse this time. He needed a way to get out this jumpy energy, so out of impulse, he left the project alone and teleported into the tent. Right near Ragatha, who was walking by.

“RAGATHA!”

The doll screamed and hit the floor pretty hard, landing with quite an audible ‘OOF!’ noise. Caine gasped and flew to her side, the AI checking if she had been hurt.

“Gracious, my dear! I’m so sorry if I startled you! Are you hurt? Oh, what am I saying? You hit that floor most hard indeed!” Caine rambled, his gloved hands softly checking for sore spots.

“I’m fine Caine, plehease just- AHAHAHA!” Ragatha squealed, as she felt Caine poke into her side, right above her hip. Caine retracted his hands.

“Is that a sore spot? Oh dear, Ragatha! I’m so very sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

“No, no. You didn’t hurt me, Caine.” Ragatha assured, biting her tongue against further giggles.

“Well, then… what was that noise that left your mouth, if not a pained noise?” the ringleader asked.

“Oh, I’m just kind of ticklish there, Caine. You got me by surprise.” Ragatha explained. Caine blinked, taken aback. A question mark appeared out of the top of his head to further display his utter confusion. That was a word he didn’t know.

“Tick-lish? Tick-uh-lish? What is… what is tick-lish, Ragatha?” Caine asked, sounding the word out slowly, to try and get a deeper meaning of it.

Ragatha sighed, a small smile pulling at her mouth. “Okay, so the plural is called tickling. Basically, you touch someone and if it makes them laugh, it means that they’re ticklish. And when it comes to tickling someone, you can try mostly anywhere. There’s different tickle spots for any person, if they are ticklish. Like a person’s sides, hips, ribs. Anything, really. It just kind of differs between different people.”

Caine could feel his digital fingers wiggling on instinct the more that Ragatha explained to him. It sounded fun, plus it sounded like a surefire way to make someone laugh! Which was exactly what Caine was after when it came to his circus crew.

“Might I tickle you, Ragatha?” Caine asked, his voice very blunt and to the point. Ragatha’s smile turned wobbly as she softly held her hands up in front of her.

“Caine, don’t be silly. I-I’m not ticklish.” she lied. Caine didn’t believe her at all.

“My dear, you just told me you were. I don’t think lying to me is going to get you very far.” he said, even as he snapped his fingers. His ringleader outfit changed to a cowboy outfit, complete with a digital rope appearing in his hands. He lassoed Ragatha like a cowboy and pulled her into his arms, the ringleader holding Ragatha in a soft hug, her back pressed against his hip as his gloved hands snuck along her back.

“Yee-haw! I got me a ticklish dollie in my hands! Whooooo, boy!” Caine cheered, his AI voice switching to a Texan accent very briefly. Ragatha pursed her lips hard against the laughter bubbling in her throat.

“Y-You sound rihidihiculous, Cahahaine!” Ragatha teased, wriggling softly in the ringleader’s grasp. Caine gasped in mock offence.

“Oh, how very rude! Why, such rudeness is not permitted in my circus!” Caine declared, as his hand that was not holding the doll squeezed into her left side. “Is it ticklish here?”

Ragatha gasped and clamped her hands over her mouth, muffled giggles going into her hands as she closed her real eye, the button one remaining stubbornly open. Her shoulders bounced softly as she fought to keep her laughter quiet. Caine’s eyes shone a little. There was some laughter, that he coaxed out of the ticklish ragdoll. Good gracious, finally!

“Why, your laughter is sweeter than angel food cake!” Caine stated. Ragatha couldn’t exactly blush, but she felt her face grow warm all the same.

“Hahaha, Cahahahaine! Lehehehet gohoho of mehehe!”

“If you say so.” Caine said, letting her go as requested. Ragatha sighed as she dusted her dress off. She really had not expected that to work. She thought for sure that Caine was just going to ignore her and keep tickling.

“This is most intriguing. I must go test this on the others!” Caine said, his AI mind buzzing with theories as to the other members’ tickle spots.

“Go do that. But leave Pomni alone. She hates being touched. Like, she really hates it.” Ragatha murmured softly.

Caine could see she wasn’t joking and he nodded. “Alright. I shan’t touch Pomni. But the others are fair game, right?”

Ragatha nodded, and Caine’s eyes shone with mischief. “Lovely. Bye now, Ragatha.” he said, flying through the circus, on the hunt for another circus member to tickle silly. And then he saw a purple ear disappear around a corner, and he chased after it.

“Hey, Jax!”

The purple rabbit turned around. Upon seeing Caine, he looked very irritated. “What do you want, Caine?”

“I want to ask you something, Jax!” Caine said, adjusting his gloves a small bit as he looked upon the taller one.

“Which is? Make it snappy, I’m a busy guy.” Jax responded.

“Are you ticklish, Jax?” Caine asked, his mismatched eyes focused entirely on Jax’s face. Of all the things Jax was expecting Caine to ask, that most certainly was not one of them.

“Uh-“

“I take it that’s a yes!” Caine said. “So now I’m gonna tickle you.”

“Oh, no the (SPROING!) you’re not!” Jax called back, running off. Caine flew after him, the ringleader chuckling mischievously.

“Running was a bad idea, my friend! If you just stayed still, this would have been so much easier~”

“(HONK!) YOU!” Jax shot back even as he turned a corner, panting softly as he turned his head, rapidly looking for somewhere to hide. But to his dismay, when his head turned back around, Caine flew towards him and trapped the rabbit in a tight backwards hug.

“Gotcha, Jax!” Caine declared, his fingers immediately going to work, spidering up and down Jax’s sides. Jax spluttered out a string of incoherent curses before the bunny fell into laughter, squirming desperately in Caine’s arms.

“CAHAHAHAINE, STAHAHAP!” Jax cried out, hiding his smile. Caine saw him doing this and tutted, the AI chuckling to himself.

“Let me see you smile.”

“CAHAHAHAINE, YOU LITTLE (SPLAT!)” Jax cursed. Caine sighed. How rude.

“Now, is that any way to talk to me? Where’s your manners, Jax?” Caine asked, one hand grabbing Jax’s hands and pulling them away from his mouth.

“CAHAHAHAINE!”

“Your laughter is oddly endearing. I think I may just have to tickle you forever.” Caine stated clearly. Jax spluttered in protest.

“FOR (DOING!) SAHAHAHAKE, STAHAHAP!” Jax pleaded. Caine chuckled and let go of the rabbit immediately. Two down, two to go. He wasn’t going to touch Zooble or Pomni, so that only left Gangle and Kinger.

“Where’s Gangle and Kinger, Jax?” Caine asked, still feeling that ticklish itch in his fingers. Jax scratched his head a bit as he calmed down from the giggle fit that Caine had unceremoniously shoved him into.

“And why the (SPLAT!) should I tell you?” Jax asked defiantly. Caine just shrugged.

“If you like, I can just tickle you again, since you seemed to enjoy it~”

“Uh, I think I last saw ‘em chatting to each other at the main stage.” Jax said, immediately spilling to avoid a round two from Caine. Caine was a good tickler, and Jax didn’t exactly want to get on the wrong side of that again.

“Good. Alright, bye.” Caine chirped, twirling his cane as he went to go find the last two at the main stage.

Kinger and Gangle were engaging in a conversation about bugs it seemed. Gangle had on her tragedy mask again, and Kinger was talking about butterflies.

“-See, Gangle, there are about 17,500 species of butterflies known to us, 750 of those species in the United States alone. This one is a tiger swallowtail, or known to us as Papilio glaucus, native to eastern Northern America. You can recognise them by the black and yellow marking on their wings!” Kinger rambled, getting a bit lost in his insect hyperfixation while Gangle let him carry on.

Caine came up and waved to them. “Hello, you two!” he greeted. Gangle squeaked and her hands instinctually came up to cover her face, while Kinger turned around.

“EEK! Oh, h-hi Caine…” Gangle murmured.

“Hi, Caine.” Kinger greeted. Caine flew down to meet them.

“What are you two doing on this fine day?” Caine asked.

“Oh, I was showing Gangle my butterfly collection! I have tiger swallowtails, skippers, metalmarks, monarchs. You name ‘em!” Kinger chirped happily. “Anyway! How can we help you?”

“Are either of you two ticklish?” Caine enquired.

Gangle squeaked and hid her face deeper in her ribbony hands. Kinger hummed and then nodded, not seeming to catch the teasy tone in Caine’s voice.

“Well, we both are, yes. Gangle more so than me. But why do you ask?”

That was all the answers Caine needed. He grabbed one of Gangle’s hands and one of Kinger’s hands, gathering them in the same hand to hold them each tightly. Preparing to go for Gangle first, he chuckled as he softly began to spider along her ribbony stomach. But to their shock, Gangle squealed and wrapped herself tight around Kinger’s abdomen, already squirming a little with anticipation. But then Kinger started to softly laugh.

“Hahaha! G-Gahahangle, stohohop! Thahat tihihickles!” Kinger pleaded softly. Caine begun to have an idea. If he could play his cards right… he could tickle them both at the same time.

Kinger or Gangle? Kinger… or Gangle? Hard choice. But considering Gangle was right there… yeah, she would work.

Caine chuckled mischievously as he switched his focus to Gangle, walking his gloved fingers along her ribboned hands. The red ribbons she was made of felt soft on his hands, and the giggles he heard from her indicated that Gangle was feeling all of this as well.

“C-Cahahaine! It tickles, it tickles!” Gangle squealed out. Caine laughed along with her as he kept up the tickles. Kinger was getting tickled too from Gangle’s wriggling, which ended up tickling him.

“Who knew you two were so ticklish?” Caine teased, smirking. He didn’t even have to tickle Kinger, Gangle was doing that for him!

“GAHAHANGLE, STAHAHAP!” Kinger cackled, the two falling back onto the floor. Caine followed them down and kept tickling Gangle, which caused the poor ribboned miss to laugh harder. Which in turn meant more squirming. And THAT meant more tickles for Kinger.

“I CAHAHAN’T!” Gangle argued. “AHAHAHA! CAHAHAINE!” she screeched. “NOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE!”

“Oh, not here? Not on your ticklish little ribbon legs? Why ever not?” Caine asked, where he was tickling the backs of Gangle’s ribbony knees. “They feel so soft here! I could tickle them forever.”

“PLEHEHEHEASE NOHOHO!” Gangle shrieked, squirming for all she was worth. Her high pitch laughter intermingled with Kinger’s deep chuckles, creating a melody of laughter that Caine adored.

“Hah! Okay, okay. I’ll stop.” Caine said, gently letting go and helping Gangle unravel herself from Kinger. Caine felt happier seeing his circus crew smile, if only for a fleeting moment.

“I’ll leave you two to it.” Caine grinned, that ticklish energy in his hands finally dissipating, with the ringleader making to leave. Only to be caught by Kinger’s hold.

“Uh-uh. What about you, Caine? Are you perhaps ticklish?”

“Preposterous, Kinger. I am just AI. Lines of coding. Impossible for code to be ticklish.” Caine declared, trying to put on a bravado. In truth, he didn’t know. But by the look on Kinger’s face, he was going to find out one way or another.

“You sure about that, dentures?” came a voice from behind him. Caine was filled with a sense of anticipatory dread as he saw Jax and Ragatha slowly approaching, their hands outstretched and wiggling. Kinger grabbed him and hoisted Caine in the air, as the circus crew took their places around him, ready to all rally against the ringleader. He gave them laughter, so they were gonna dish it right back.

“Now, let’s be reheheasonable here! P-please! PLEHEHEHEASE! WAHAHAIT! JAHAHAX! RAHAHAGATHA! KIHIHIHINGER, GAHAHANGLE STOHOHOP! NO NO NO NOHOHOHO!”

[toskarin]

hey rin, a friend of mine enjoys composing music digitally and has a lot of respect for you as someone with more experience with that sort of thing. he has a hard time convincing the people around him to listen to the things he makes, in both the "finding an audience" way and "getting the people around him to give him their opinion on something he's working on way," and he wanted me to ask you if you could speak on your own experiences with those problems and how you've dealt with them. less related, he was also curious about your inspirations for the music that you make. i know this is a lot to cover, so if it would be easier for you to speak with him directly then please let me know

so I'll open by saying that, as far as people who can give good advice on this go, I'm probably not one of those. a lot of what I do only works because of some specific problems with my brain that are oddly adaptive to this sort of thing

that being said, this is a bit of the "tough love" kind of advice for surviving as an artist, so I'll make a second reblog for the second half of the question

this is either advice that will work or a ramble that will lead your friend to making his life unbearable, so look before you leap

-

The Easy Section, or "You've Gotta Be a Bit of a Tradie"

let's go over the business stuff quickly before I start rambling at length about the boring stuff

learn to love the work itself. "find a job you enjoy and you'll never work a day in your life" is garbage, but creative work really is the one area where you should double down on this. kick back and bump your own album on release day, thinking about how every second of it is something that didn't exist before you put it together. this is what's gonna keep you above water when the wind is dead

get on bandcamp. there is nowhere better for small musicians right now. bandcamp is basically the last remaining website with an effective suggestion algorithm that caters to people who want to actively engage with music and buy it

consider getting on instagram. in the majority of places you're likely to live if you're reading this, the local music scene is on instagram. probably don't use your personal instagram for this

consider getting on soundcloud. you won't make sales through soundcloud, because it's a streaming-focused site (more on that in a moment) with a focus on passive listening, but it's pretty decent for networking, especially with digital music production. soundcloud is linkedin for deadbeats

stay off spotify. streaming generally isn't worth the trouble these days unless you're playing concerts or are otherwise already established. if you aren't uttering the words "you can find me on..." more than once a month, it's probably not worth pursuing a spotify presence to end that sentence with

self-promote. if you have platforms, use them. find the subreddit for your genre and post yourself on the self-promo day. consider posting some bandcamp album codes when you do this, not just so you can get word of mouth, but because someone having an album in their collection means you effectively have a permanent zero-cost advertisement for your music which will only show itself to people who are verifiably looking at something similar. companies pay dizzying sums for ads that couldn't dream of being this targetted. this is a big reason why bandcamp is THE place to be for small musicians

cross-promote and collab. work with your friends. if you don't have musician friends, go make some and then help each other out. "independent" music is a misnomer

blind yourself to the metrics. do not look at engagement metrics. pay them no mind at all. don't look at them unless you're trying to see how effective a specific, deliberate course of action was and already know what you want to find

remember that strangers are unknowable. people do things for arbitrary reasons. if you don't have someone giving you written feedback, don't make any assumptions at all about why they did something. skipped tracks and minimum-price pwyws mean nothing at all

present your stuff in a way that gives it context. why should someone care about your stuff? give them a reason. carve out an hour to really work on a nice album cover, go the extra mile and include track-by-track narrative with your dungeon synth album, or just describe what you're expecting people to buy. I firmly believe that NOMAD/VIRTUE was successful in large part because of its presentation

gimmick. gimmick gimmick gimmick. discount codes are more fun than automatic discounts, free album codes are more fun than free albums, contests are more fun than giveaways, so on so forth. lacking any physical goodies to bundle in, you should still endeavour to give people Something To Do that makes them feel like they're really engaging with your music

zero expectations, zero overhead. do not rely on the whims of complete strangers to justify whether or not you end up in the red. if you ever find yourself saying something like "I can afford to pay for a session musician because I'll just make it back" you can't afford to pay for a session musician. you're probably never getting bailed out if you eat a loss, so try not to put yourself in a situation where you can eat a loss to begin with

someone else's expectations, someone else's overhead. if someone else is paying you to make this music for a soundtrack or something, if (and ONLY if) you have the money in your hand and know you have it, you're no longer gambling. at this point, you can start to look at expenses as investment

now onto the less fun stuff. here's where I ramble for like an hour at you.

-

if there's one thing I've really had hammered in over my decade-odd as a somewhat commercial artist (in all the disciplines I've worked with, which is most of them), it's that you have to be a bit of a bitch about it sometimes

that nagging fear in the back of your head that you're annoying? it's stopping you from doing what you need to do: annoy people

with that being said, this next section is kind of...

The Rough Section, or "You've Gotta Be a Little Hard-headed"

at the end of the day, you'll often find that you are your only advocate, and that means you kinda have to get your foot slammed in a few doors if that means holding them open. this also unfortunately means that you've gotta convince yourself you're pretty good. you don't have to think you're great, but confidence is a trade skill

the last opinion people see before the first time consciously engaging with your work (which here means "the thing that primes them for how they feel about it") is yours

which brings us to the first uncomfy rule

absolutely no cutting yourself down before anyone else even gets a swing

you can be modest if you want (you don't have to), but you absolutely cannot prime people to see the flaws in your work. if 50% of people are discerning enough to notice a flaw, why make that number 100%? what do you gain from that?

if something isn't as finished as you'd have liked it to be, but you've pushed it out the door anyway (which you will sometimes have to do), you absolutely cannot prime people to consider it unfinished

if the thing is still being worked on, there's nothing wrong with being forthcoming about that, but the fastest way to make someone think of something as "inferior product" when they otherwise would never have reached that conclusion is by telling them it is

and that, of course, leads us into a bit of an inversion of the previous rule

absolutely do not take the majority of your validation from strangers

doing this is bad for a million reasons, but I see the worst of this in visual arts, where artists double down on what gets them the most engagements and lay themselves at the mercy of complete strangers who have no actual investment in them

of course, it's normal to desire validation and approval from people you respect, but if you put yourself in a position where it's possible to enter a negative feedback loop that crystallises into you no longer making art from the default response of neutral apathy from strangers, it's not a matter of when: it's going to happen to you one day

so what's the move here? spend 8 years making music you don't release like you're in a compressed time chamber? probably not. I did it that way, but I didn't get much out of it, so you probably won't either

the actual answer is that you've gotta network. you need an inner circle. you need people with shared interests so that you can gas each other's stuff up

just like everyone else, you need your friends

you need to have friends who care about you, about what you're doing, and you need to care about them and what they're doing

this is because, while self-confidence is important...

the majority of your external validation as an artist should come from your friends and peers, not strangers

it's important to have artist friends, because then you can encourage each other in ways that are personally meaningful, but having your friends behind you, whether or not they're musicians, is so incredibly important

if you're motivated exclusively by success, however you're choosing to measure that, what you're actually doing is forming a nightmarish parasocial relationship with the concept of a crowd. not even a real crowd! a fictional group that materialises when you've created "the conditions for success"

there is no such thing as a truly independent artist. if your understanding of artistic success requires competition against others, you're going to lose that competition and then explode (unfortunately common)

finding your audience as an artist (and mind you, art is a social field) is very much a process of networking, but it feels gross to say it that way, so I'll just leave that at "if you want to be known by others, you need to be willing to know others"

anyway, this doesn't really terminate in a complete sentiment. I was just transcribing a train of though

if I were to boil this down to a shorter, snappier answer that I could read comfortably read out, it'd be...

TL;DR

the process of finding an audience is so much less about actually finding one than it is about learning to create happily whether or not you have an audience. developing an audience is the largely incidental byproduct of long-term creative efforts coupled with self-advocacy and interpersonal networking

if you want to be found by a scene, you have to participate in a scene, and if you want to participate in a scene, you need to be in the scene. so on so forth

as stupid as it might sound when I put it into words, the truth is that you can't build any kind of audience in isolation. someone has to find you somehow, and it's a lot easier to be found if you're actually somewhere that people might look

[calangolengo]

I haven't been able to stop thinking about your mute Stan headcanons and I started thinking about what would've happened if Stan lost his voice sooner, like in childhood instead of out on the road. Maybe he was in an accident or nearly died drowning or something and the incident made him stop talking around the age of 12. Just thinking about how upset Ford would be that his brother doesn't talk anymore but being determined to help him, and the two of them learning different ways to communicate, with ASL and Morse code, and Ford basically having to become Stan's translator when they're at school. I also think it would make Filbrick a little softer on Stan, if the accident was horrific enough.

Wow, this is great I love it!! At first I was thinking Stan was nonverbal most of his life since birth, but this is gold! A rare opportunity for Filbrick, personally I have a hard time writing him as anything other than the big bad lurking in the minds of his children, I think the fandom in general internalizes his actions too much by placing the weight of their own experiences on this figure, which makes it very difficult to see him beyond what they already decided he would be, but I think your vision is very interesting to be explored.

______________________________________________________________

Maybe Filbrick was taking a moment during the summer, the store closed for reasons beyond his control that forced him to not work that day. He ends up going for a quick walk on the beach and the twins follow him like a family outing eager to show their father their boat. Stan would obviously be the most excited and vocal one running back and forth while Ford would be walking in front of his father facing him talking non-stop but in a more normal tone.

Filbrick would be distracted looking at the sea while Stan would be imitating a plane circling around him and then, for a moment, a sharp turn of the child going off the sidewalk and a motorcycle would collide with him not too sharply but enough to throw his small body further forward and twist one of his arms at a completely unnatural angle.

From Stan's perspective he would be scared as hell, any child would be, screaming and crying and trying to get up and seek safety by his father's side, but Filbrick would be busy arguing with the owner of the motorcycle, the two of them yelling at each other almost becoming physical, the whole situation scaring the boy more, Ford coming to his side also in tears trying to help Stan in some way but being mostly useless and not able to calm him down.

At some point Stan could see his father approaching, his eyes hidden behind his glasses holding him by the shoulders and saying something, but with the crying and the screams and the pain he wasn't really listening until his father started yelling at him to shut up and be quiet and stop crying, his father's screams getting louder over his own, the whole situation escalating to the point where a small crowd was gathering. Then he becomes unable to make a sound when Filbrick puts his hand over his mouth, permanently shutting him up and carrying his body back home to get the car and take him to the doctor, his mother driving while his brother is left at home and Filbrick's hand still covering his mouth the whole way.

By the time they get to the hospital, when the doctor puts him on a stretcher and he is finally released from his father's hands, he is not making any sound, just the softest whimpers as the doctor gives him anesthesia and he is intubated.

After he wakes up, a cast on his arm and his mother and brother by his bedside smiling at him, his father in the store that is already open, all Stan can remember of the whole event is the screams and the hand preventing him from speaking. Going home with some painkillers, he stays quiet in bed for the first few days, barely making a sound. Ford with all his little heart tries to start any conversation, about monsters, comics, the boat, but nothing seems to cheer up his little brother.

The weeks pass and Stan stays at home because despite being physically recovering well he seems unable to whisper more than a few words, the doctor attributes this to the trauma of the situation and suggests that the family encourage him to talk more.

His mother keeps him at home for the rest of the summer, calling him to help her with her work on the phone, but this doesn't seem to have any effect, Ford tries to persuade him to talk about boats, about their life when they travel the world, about the new comics they could read and although Stan seems very interested he can't get more than a few sounds out of him. Filbrick calls him to work at the store one day, letting him stay in his usual position at first in front of the main display window where Stan used to make up silly stories to convince some customer, but the moment the third person leaves the store without buying anything and without getting any useful information about prices or discounts from the boy he is permanently moved to the cashier, Ford goes along trying to help his brother by supporting him where he can't act, but after he gives the wrong change once he is transferred to a stool in the corner of the cashier just watching his father work.

At one point Filbrick throws the question at Stan, wanting to know why he wasn't talking, why he was acting so strange, why he couldn't be normal. It's not meant to be a mean question, he just doesn't know how to connect with his son, understand his reasons, he was so desperate when the accident happened, the mere thought of one of his children getting hurt when he was around was incapable of protecting someone who should always be protected when he was around, he just wanted the boy to calm down, to go back to the way he was before the accident, for all that pressure to go away. Stan was always such a hard child to read, while he was open to any kind of conversation he didn't really say anything of importance, always running around and screaming and being so hard to control, Filbrick just wanted to understand what was going on, he wanted to fix what was wrong, but how could he reach out to someone so different from himself, he loved his children, he would even die for them, but it was so hard to enjoy being around them, it was hard to feel like being with them. He wanted them safe, but he also wanted them out of his mind, out of his home, taking his childhood problems with them. The guilt that gnawed at the edges of his mind was chased away only by the voice of his innermost desire: he could not be blamed for not loving his children; he had given them his food, his home, and his time. What more would it take for him to give?

Stan eventually had to go back to school, while his quietness was appreciated by his teachers the lack of answers to questions in class was not. Ford was frustrated but he was adapting, the Bros' codes and Morse code being used more than ever both in class and on the street, he became Stan's voice to the world. Stan was still the muscle of the team, fending off any idiot who came at them, at some point Ford found a book on ASL in the school library and took it home, by the arrival of adolescence and its end Ford and Stan had become fluent in sign language and had even created their own signs.

Then the science fair happened and it was pretty much the same thing, except Stan didn't have any words to really defend himself, signing didn't doing any good if the person his were talking to wasn't really paying attention to them.

Filbrick was so pissed, Stan could be silent now but it was still a problem with low grades and a ridiculous attitude of going out and fighting with other kids, when he threw Stan out the door he grabbed the first kid's bag that was lying nearby, the one he used to box.

It should just be a few days of sleeping in the car, he told his wife, it would teach him, it would give him a greater sense of gratitude for his father's efforts and to think of the excuses he would give to his brother, he would look for the boy by the end of the week.

But life is funny in the cruelest ways sometimes, like when you go to the police station to explain that your son is missing and have to explain to the chief that you kicked him out of the house just to teach him a lesson but the local authority figure doesn't seem to agree with the effectiveness of your methods, nor does seem particularly interested in solving any of your problems.

By the end of the month Filbrick had spent more on gas than on his own cigars, visited more tourist spots in the city than any tourist and seen more tears fall from his wife's eyes than any husband has seen in the history of mankind, he thinks, but the boy seemed to have disappeared from the world, swallowed up by the road fulfilling an old dream of his father, disappearing and taking with him his childhood problems for better or worse.

______________________________________________________________

Filbrick is weiFilbrick is weird to write, yikes. I wrote this here that was supposed to be one of the first versions of the story, I really liked your idea, I hope you write it too, it will be cool to see this AU growing.

[connor-123-idk]

I think dream Riddle is alt (maybe grouge but as far as I understand it's more of a thrifting and making use of things or also a bit rudely described "trashy" imo his clothes seems like almost brand new clothes)

Definitely with the choker alt but almost like 2020/21/23 alt I can definitely see all (except the coat) of those clothes being sold in stores because of what was popular with teens and young adults

I dont think so.

The word Alt is straight up just Alternative, which can be just umbrella term for multiple outfit styles

2020 Alt according to definition: ,,is a culmination of trends that became popular during quarantine. Initially popularized on TikTok, it later spread to platforms like Pinterest and Discord. Key influences include anime, hyperpop music, energy drinks, gaming, and online culture, blending elements from goth, scene, Y2K, Glitchcore and other digital subcultures." (Aesthetic Fandom Wiki)

The more I look at Riddle, the more I dont see it

2021 Alt is basically the same, from what I see

And I couldnt find anything about 2023 Alt, so I dunno if its a niche of the internet I havent seen yet or a completly new term

As I said Alt (Alternative) is an umbrella term for most alternative styles in which we can count emo, scene, goth (those are examples btw)

In my very honest opinion Dream Riddle is Visual Key, in this essey I will prove it

First of, lets check some Visual Kei windows

Eccentric make up? Checked

Breaking gender norms? He does look feminine... Checked!

Eccentric hairstyle? Thats also checked

Vkei was a movement between Japanese musical artists, which would agree with most of stuff. TWST is like a Japanese game, so it's more probable for them to make a Japanese clothing. Riddle in dream is part of the musical band, which if we want it or not, makes him a music artist (in one way or another)

Vkei is about expressing oneself through clothes and songs, and about breaking gender norms, which I think fits

Now... Why I dont think he's a punk, because I also wanted to include that...

Many people are comparing Punk to Goth, since its not really about the style of dressing itself, but about music and political views, which for Punk its more the second

,,But why Ace calls Riddle ,,punky""

First of: Do we really trust ACE with fashion?

Second of: Punk is often use as a derogatory term: ,,Initially, the term punk meant “prostitute”, but over time became to mean: young male hustler, hoodlum, ruffian" (Dictionary)

As much as there is NO exact code of how Punks dress, majority of them agree on some things, like DIY fashion. They dont support big corporations, and they do their clothes, or buy them from small business, and by small business I mean one person does handmade clothing and sells that online or in street

The point of punk clothing was ATTENTION (especially in 70). Their whole point was fighting for equality in system, and they were doing this by clothes, music and other things. Punk clothes back in 70' and 80' had lots of controversial accesories which was fashion way of yelling ,,IM FUCKING HERE AND I DONT LIKE THIS WORLD"

And thats amazing

Punks viewpoints are mostly: individual liberty, anti-authoritarianism, a DIY ethic (which I mentioned earlier), non-conformity, anti-corporatism, anti-government, direct action, and not "selling out". There are different types of punks, sure - some of them believe in anarchy, and some in white supremacy (which is bad)

But the idea stays the same

I know Disney can get really political about some stuff, but this time I dont think thats the case

Dream Riddle is more about self expression and personal freedom, and sure it checks some punk windows, but so many different styles

(Also dont get me wrong, but those clothes look expensive as FU-)

What Im trying to say, Dream Riddle is not punk and you will not tell me he is, my best guess is Vkei, but this is the closest thing I got

Normally I dont get into discussions like that, but someone had to say that

Please tell me if I got something wrong

[averagespaceman]

jon sims headcanons +appearance timeline!

SPOILERS FOR ALL SEASONS OF TMA after the cut‼️

to start here is the timeline image (if you’ve seen it before no you haven’t)

now for the meat n potatoes!

(1-3 are all hair-timeline related)

1. i headcanon jon as having decently short hair at first just to be professional or whatever even though he prefers it longer (alternative mf), then season two hits and he just kinda forgets about it cause he’s too busy being paranoid and stalking his coworkers. he remembers again after the [brutal pipe murder], but just kinda decides short hair is not worth the upkeep and buys a pack of hair ties that he then keeps on his person throughout the rest of the show, and ends up with this beautiful mess that floats when he uses his powers. maybe he has martin help him with it in various ways just to have an excuse for a domestic moment during the eyepocalypse, who knows (i do because i say so and i like drawing men with long hair)

2. he has an almost-curly wave pattern that tends to frizz easily but is not that hard to handle when he actually takes care of it. totally not projecting definitely not why would i do that? georgie was the one to show him the magic of curl products and from then on you could never catch him without at least four different ones in his bathroom, even after he cuts his hair for work. he wishes he liked masculine woodsy type scents for his hair products, but he does not. he prefers the fruity bath and body works type stuff. at first he never lets people get close enough to him to learn this, and even if he did start warming up to people enough to let them get close, they wouldn’t have anyway in s2 because he’s a paranoid lil bitch boy. martin begins to associate those scents with jon later on but doesn’t realize why until they get to the safehouse and he sees all of jon’s hair products and immediately understands.

3. jon greys a lot over the course of the series. he goes through a lot of stress so obviously this would make sense, but since he was marked by the web so early on i think that would have happened whether or not he’d been chosen as the archivist (yknow cause white hairs are kinda similar to webs? idk it makes sense to my brain parasites). also it makes him look older than he is, which he appreciates at first because it helps with his stuffy academic persona

4. he has kinda the same feeling about shaving throughout the show as he does with haircuts, as in at first he tries to stay clean-shaven for professionalism, but eventually he gets to a point where he only shaves when his facial hair starts being inconvenient and/or bothering him sensory-wise because he’s autistic (we’ll get to that later)

5. as soon as he learns that his job entails monster encounters and almost dying regularly, he basically says fuck you to the dress code and starts wearing skirts and jewelry and all that fun stuff because he likes it, and if he gets fired then it might be worth it to get out of there. he’s wearing a skirt in the s2 image because i say so. sweater vest + long pleated skirt combo jon yes please (i will be drawing this soon, trust)

6. as alternative as he is, he never got any more piercings than the four on his lobes because at the end of the day he was still an academic and wanted to pursue research, and knew that that kind of thing pushed the boundaries of that image a little too far. he regrets this later but doesn’t think too much of it since his priorities are placed… elsewhere

7. at some point during s2, elias/jonah notices his lack of care about the dress code and decides to gift him the eye earrings that i gave him in that image. obviously he has ulterior motives but jon doesn’t know that and thinks they’re cool so he wears them regularly. he’s also given a glasses chain with eye charms on it, but he forgets to wear it most of the time since he can barely see without his glasses anyways so he has no need for it

8. obviously he can’t go back to his house in s3, so he has to borrow a lot of what the ghost? merch from georgie. he is still a skeptic about the ghost hunting genre despite everything he knows now, but he still wears it because he doesn’t have any other option and wants to support his friend. he’s a very sweet guy at heart but just doesn’t want to admit it most of the time because it’d conflict with his stuffy academic image

9. it’s fairly common to see people draw him as not needing his glasses anymore after his avatar transformation, as well as his eye color changing, and i fuckin love it gimme more of that please. i also saw someone say that all the eyes are green because jonah has green eyes but after jon becomes the pupil all the eyes turn brown, but idk how to feel about that one since the whole show is just green atp and it would be weird to change that

10. in s5, he has eyes all over his body and they usually don’t close unless they’re about to get poked or touched. when he uses his power, the sclera turn black and the irises glow. he also has the funny glowing eye halo but it’s not tangible so it’s not too big of a deal for him. also, fun fact: i never draw eyes with pupils. it’s just not a part of my style. i only threw them in here because he can literally see everything, especially in his glitched-out finale form. it’s meant to seem like he’s looking at you because he is. the archive can s̠҉͍͊ͅẹ̿͋̒̕ẹ̿͋̒̕ y҉̃̀̋̑o̯̱̊͊͢ư̡͕̭̇ he is w̦̺̐̐͟ā̤̓̍͘t̲̂̓ͩ̑c͕͗ͤ̕̕ḣ̖̻͛̓ỉ͔͖̜͌ṇ̤͛̒̍ĝ̽̓̀͑

11. literally everyone thinks this man is beautiful. he is so pretty and even people who aren’t attracted to men can see that. however, most are dissuaded by the stuffy academic persona at first and the “you look like hell” vibes later, as well as his generally standoffish personality. this does not apply to martin, who sees all of those traits as 100% his type, or elias/jonah, who has a religious sort of reverence toward jon as his perfect archivist (this was touched upon by alex during the magnus fanfic-reading video and i’ve loved the idea ever since). jon does not like this but he’s also unaware of it for most of the show so it’s not too big a deal for him

12. i only just learned who dev patel is from people fancasting him as jon, but i looked him up and yes i approve of the fancast. i also drew these before i looked him up so i think i accidentally drew dev patel a few times (also as a white person i can’t say much about his race and how it would play into his character but whenever i see art of him that doesn’t portray him as a poc i just go “why is he white” so i’m just gonna go along with the majority of the fandom’s interpretation of him being south asian)

13. he is very small. not too short, per se, but small, like a tall skinny person was scaled down in photoshop. he’s about 5’7, and at first he wears shoe lifts to hide this, but eventually just decides to wear platforms and heels like he did in college, and sometimes just forgoes them entirely because he’s stopped caring. martin likes to pick him up and carry him around the safehouse (and in places where he’s cut off from the eye) and he enjoys it.

now for some non-appearance related ones that have been chewing on my brain along with the parasites

14. WE’RE FINALLY GETTING TO IT‼️ he’s 100% autistic (i’m autistic and i hit him with the tism ray). him responding to “have you seen a dog?” with “in general, or…?” is so autism-coded it’s not even funny. he doesn’t have too many sensory issues but he hates tight pants and ties and things like that. he also hates the feeling of air on his skin most of the time so he always wears long sleeves if he can help it. for the first few days after he realizes he doesn’t need his glasses, he keeps wearing them anyway because he’s so used to them. he doesn’t melt down but he does shut down sometimes, though he does lose the ability to go nonverbal after his transformation and that fucks with him a lot. martin is a big help with this in s5 because he’ll just be quiet, not provoking the eye to give or collect information at all.

15. he was definitely in the mechanisms in college. i don’t know too much about their lore yet since i’ve only listened to the first two albums (ulysses dies at dawn is a fucking masterpiece), but picturing a young version of this jon as jonny d’ville is absolutely wonderful

16. he definitely liked martin in the early seasons but he didn’t fully realize it until later. i think his bullying was a result of him having the feelings and not quite knowing what those feelings were because he’s autistic. my biggest point of evidence for jon not truly disliking martin is that when they were trapped while hiding from jane prentiss, jon straight up thinks that he’s hallucinating martin being there because his presence is comforting.

17. he is CANONICALLY ASEXUAL AND FUCKING PROUD. him being ace makes me so happy as an ace person myself, especially since he’s in an mlm relationship with someone who’s (assumedly) not ace but is not expecting anything out of him, just like myself. i feel incredibly seen by the whole magnus team just for that but this is a headcanon post so i won’t get into all that. he is very much a romantic and was incredibly touch-starved post-georgie and pre-martin, so he’s happy to be physically close and intimate as long as it doesn’t go any further than that. he loves big hugs and kisses and cuddles from his boyfriend and that’s fucking wonderful!! okay moving on from the projection

18. for his whole life, his favorite color was blue, specifically that of the sky or similar lighter shades like periwinkle and cyan and those such as. they’re peaceful, and he looks good wearing them. but after his coma, he realizes just how much he likes green, and starts wearing it a lot more… he doesn’t realize that it’s not his own brain producing that thought.

19. he does not look like the type to like rock and metal, but he does. he loves how complicated in structure metal can be, especially when it utilizes more melodic aspects as well. if he could have heard take me back to eden by sleep token (well, most of it—there are some flops on there), he would have loved it. he also loves classical pieces for that same reason, but the heavy stuff is super appealing to him on its own. he sometimes listens to prog and math rock as well, just to follow along with the time signatures and long runtimes projecting again maybe but it kinda makes sense so i’m putting it out there

20. he was never as much of a media nerd as he was an academics nerd, but he loves long speculative book series like a song of ice and fire, red rising, and the stormlight archive. intricate worldbuilding gets him every time, and he’ll throw himself into it completely, as is canon. he tried playing dungeons and dragons once, but the amount of pre-existing rules bothered him since he couldn’t do everything he wanted to with his character. star wars also bothers him because there’s so many inconsistencies in the lore. but, it did inspire him to write his own space opera lore for his band.

jesus christ that’s more writing than i’ve done for any of my novels in months yippee i’m dying over here

anyways that’s all i’ve got for now, i hope to incorporate this stuff into my art from here on out but hey maybe i’ll hyperfixate on something else soon and never draw mr. jarchivist again! has happened before could happen again folks

to finish off here’s my proper art of him again cause i feel like adding it!

c ya later 👁️

[gin-stan]

MoonKnight Headcanons *Modern AU*

Lets get the obvious out the way.

Disclaimer: This is written as if they had separate bodies, so triplets I suppose.

Steven

Steven would major in Egyptology and Archeology.

I can see him traveling the world studying ancient wonders but specializing in the Egyptian ones.

He graduates with a double major; travels around the world, eventually making notable discoveries and finds. And retires as a professor.

Unlike his brothers, he chooses to stay a little more grounded. He may be the only person alive who likes busy work; grading papers, and all that.

Something about "peeking into the brilliant minds of today's youths."

It's fascinating to him and brings back memories of his time as a student.

He tends to be bit disappointed, though... his students are a creative bunch, but their grammer and spelling give him a headache. The ideas are there, but the execution is flimsy at best. But nothing that can't be fine-tuned and workshopped!

He becomes a tenured professor, and many of his colleagues come to him for advice on how to motivate their own students. He almost cried (he did cry) when the staff came together and celebrated his birthday. Gave him a vegan cake and everything.

Students even threw him a little suprise party.

They decorated his classroom and everything. He was so moved his gave them extra credit (they were hoping for a free exam grade, but they still love him).

ヽ(；▽；)ノ

Marc

Majors in Archeology or becomes a firefighter. I can't really see him being a police officer, but I do think he'd want to go into a field where he helps people.

The chief of the station practically takes Marc under his wing because he sees himself in Marc. Basically, he becomes a father figure to him and teaches him not to be so self sacrificial and hot-headed.

Marc continues being on field duty until he's forced to retire by his team due to old age. Or they force him to take a desk job, which he absolutely hates.

He becomes chief of the station by the end of his career thought. (Previous fire chief long passed/retired).

He's very respected and loved by the members of his station despite how thick headed and stubborn he can be. He's tough but fair, just like his previous mentor.

Jake

Jake is just as smart as Marc and Steven are, just in a different way. He applies himself and graduates college with a double major in mechanical and electrical engineering.

(This one is a bit up in the air in what he'd do after, but I really think he'd get a degree if he could).

Or he'd major in law and business!

He'd become a private investigator and help the little guys who can't afford a big-time lawyer. (He directs them to his friend Matthew Murdock and his buddy Nelson).

And he investigates shady business practices even if it means doing it in not so legal ways. Such as "dealing" with Slumlords price gouging the rent or not having the building up to code.

Jake has had many run-ins with the law before, so he knows people, and those people know people.

That's why he studied the law, memorized it, just so he could break it (within reason) and beat those greedy big timers at their own game.

And well, next thing you know, the building was having repairs done, and the rent was down to an affordable price. And no one (except the client) is any the wiser.

Other jobs include:

If he's running low on cash (or wants some drama), he'd catch cheating spouses.

He'll even take missing persons reports; ones the police gave up on and said, "were lost causes." He has eyes and ears out on the streets, just for the occasion.

For better or for worse, his success rate is above 50%.

Much to his dismay.

It gets to him sometimes, but he's lucky he has Marc and Steven to bring him out of the deep end.

[anonymous-dentist]

Or: the childhood friends au:

-

Roier doesn’t remember a lot of his childhood, but he remembers enough to know that he was a bit of a little shit. He was a problem child. He probably has the outline of a shoe tattooed onto his back after all the shit he got up to as a kid.

(R-01 gets one hour of supervised outdoor time every day to keep him from getting sick. He sits beneath the big oak tree in the facility’s enclosed garden, and he lets his fingers twist in the grass beneath him.

[The grass isn’t real, but he doesn’t know this yet.]

He sticks his tongue out to catch the sunlight, all of seven years old and unsure as to what sunlight tastes like.

Abuelo stands by him complaining, but all R-01 hears is static.

And then there’s a rough hand yanking him to his feet and dragging him back into the facility. Apparently, according to Abuelo, someone has managed to sneak into the facility.)

But it’s fine, really. Roier doesn’t need to remember his past to know who he is, and he knows who he is. He’s Roier! He likes tacos and kissing men.

In his sleep, Cellbit rolls onto his side and latches a clingy arm over Roier’s waist. He snuggles close, face burying itself in Roier’s shoulder with a pleased little ‘Mrrp!’ noise. His tail brushes against Roier’s thigh just once before settling down.

Roier smiles into the night. There are dark circles under his eyes and a sick feeling in his stomach and a gnawing something in the back of his mind.

He can’t sleep. Which is kinda funny, really, considering he’s usually the one asleep clinging to his overworking husband.

(R-01 stays in his cell for days listening for the jingle of Abuelo’s keys, but all he hears is the familiar screaming of the duck in the room next door. Must be her feathers again.

With a sigh, R-01 paces to the other side of his cell. She’s loud!

That’s when he hears it: a soft sobbing from the cell next to Roier’s. Not the duck, she’s loud. This is quiet, and there isn’t any quacking.

R-01 gasps. Someone new!

“Hola?” he dares whisper, not too loud ‘cause he doesn’t want to get in trouble, but he doesn’t like crying. It’s illegal. Abuelo doesn’t like it.

The crying stops. Then something taps at the wall right next to Roier’s ear. Another tap, and another, and it’s code, right? It has to be!

R-01 isn’t very smart, Abuelo tells him this every time they do their lessons, but he’s got this! If it’ll keep his new neighbor from crying and getting in trouble, he’ll solve this… this enigma!)

Richarlyson is with Bad again, and Pepito is staying with Quackity again, and Cellbit is asleep. So it’s just Roier and his thoughts and the distinct lack thereof that he’s trying to find somewhere in the mess that is his silly goofy little brain.

“You’re thinking,” Cellbit suddenly grumbles, jolting Roier from his thoughts (and the distinct lack thereof.) His voice is thick with sleep. Adorable. “Stop thinking. That’s my job.”

“What? You? Thinking? No way.”

Roier shifts in bed until he’s on his side facing Cellbit. Cellbit moves with him, pulling him fully into his arms and melting as Roier’s fingers find their ways to the hair at the base of his ears.

“Go back to sleep, gatinho,” Roier says.

Cellbit purrs at him in mild disagreement.

“What’s wrong?” Cellbit asks. He’s only halfway awake, but at least he cares.

(R-01 slowly manages to figure it out. He uses his mandatory arts and crafts time with Abuelo practicing his alphabet with colorful finger paints that make Abuelo sneer in disgust every time R-01 uses them on his own face.

His neighbor is talking to him, and it’s a secret. R-01 is basically a spy!

Every tap is a letter, he thinks. So two taps means “B”! Easy.

So, while Abuelo is busy with the duck, R-01 sneaks to the other wall and taps out a “Hola!”

The response is immediate and a bit too fast for him to be able to get, but he hears seven taps and then one tap and that’s “G” and “A” and there’s gotta be more, right? What words start with that?

Hesitantly, R-01 taps out: “MEOW”.

The duck screams. The neighbor laughs. The guards outside start shouting and banging and shooting. Footsteps come down the hallway, and then they say, “No.”

And then it’s quiet.)

“Nothing,” Roier lies. But, well, it’s only sorta a lie, right? Nothing illegal. Marriage-illegal.

“Okay,” Cellbit simply says, and then it’s quiet.

He purrs, rusty from exhaustion.

Roier pets him idly, eyes shut tight.

“It’s just…” he slowly says, “Bagi isn’t a cat hybrid, is she?”

Cellbit’s purring stops.

(R-01 wakes up on the table this time. He screams as the bear’s scalpel cuts into the skin beneath his eye, squirming in his restraints.

“No,” the bear simply says.

It’s the mean one, the one with the knife. R-01 doesn’t like this one; it’s the one he heard outside of the cat’s room. And he hasn’t heard from the cat since.)

Roier doesn’t remember much of his childhood, but at least he remembers having a childhood. Cellbit doesn’t have that luxury. It’s kind of his whole thing at the moment, working through his assloads of trauma one tiny little baby step at a time.

All Roier knows, and all that Cellbit knows, is that Cellbit crashed onto the island with cat ears and a tail, and that Bagi is totally and entirely human.

“But maybe you just got the furry genes,” Roier suggests.

He feigns a yawn and scratches the spot between Cellbit’s ears he knows makes Cellbit turn to goo, and goo does Cellbit become.

“Guapito…” Cellbit sighs.

Roier cuts him off with a ‘Shhh.’

“In the morning,” he promises. “I promise.”

“Mmmm,” Cellbit agrees, as smart and as well-spoken as ever. “‘Kay.”

Roier smiles, more genuine, and he kisses Cellbit once before at least trying to relax. It’s fine, right?

(R-01 gets one hour of supervised outdoor time every day to keep him from getting sick.

He waits until Abuelo isn’t paying attention to stretch his hand up towards the sun.

The duck is gone. They’re still looking for her. And R-01 is still looking for the cat.

The garden is surrounded by four walls, but there’s no ceiling. Just the open air, because ducks can’t fly. No risk of escape.

But spiders can climb.

Squeezing one eye shut and sticking his tongue out in concentration, R-01 points his fingers at the top of the nearest wall like how he thinks a superhero would. Because he is a superhero now!

The web comes out as painfully as ever, but all R-01 cares about is the wind against his skin as he’s pulled out of the garden and to freedom.

Abuelo is angry and shouting down below, but who cares? R-01 is a superhero now! They made him one, and he’s got a kitty to save somewhere!)

[Cellbit’s parents used to chastise him and his sister, telling him, “Curiosity killed the cat!” But Bagi had always argued that, well, so what? They aren’t cats! They’re people!

But then the bear said the same thing as it stuck the IV in Cellbit’s arm. And Cellbit thought of the dead little girl with rabbit ears he found in the woods, and the dead little boy with the bird wings, and, at the ripe old age of eleven years old, he cried as he realized how big of a mistake he had made.]

[sinon36]

Ghost x undercover!reader (HC) Part I

Warnings: torture, blood, pain, unconscious Ghost and basically kinda useless, really capable YOU persona ;), rushed writing, possible mistakes, reader is pretty neutral so far

P.S. Don’t judge the unexplained inconsistency of how a guy like Ghost gets captured, but spy you get to waltz around unbothered, yeah, you’re that good, so good you got plot armour. Besos!   

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

- the first time you meet it's messy. He's supposed to extract an agent from behind enemy lines but instead he gets captured

-  you pose as a computer science PhD who is in charge of the enemy base cyber security, when in reality you're there to install a backdoor with remote access.

- you know someone should come to help make your exit, but when no infiltration is reported panic starts to rise in your chest

- you start investigating, searching through the facility trying to find out if something happened.

- you gain access to a part of the facility you don't have clearance for.

- you stumble upon a gruesome scene in one of the holding cell in the underground levels

- you find a man tied to the ceiling, bare feet barely touching the floor, muscles stretching under the tension ready to snap

- a black hood is thrown over his head and he's shirtless, remnants of once black cargo pants hang on his hips.

- he was tortured, for days by looks of it

- you know enough about that to know that he hasn't cracked yet, otherwise he'd be dead not hanging there in the damp cold cell.

- you take your chances and take the hood off

- he groggily turns his head to look down at you, he’s a big that much you can say

- blonde whisps of hair matted to his scalp stained a dark red, pale skin the same blood oozing from small cuts on his cheeks dripping down on his pectorals. From behind black and blue and inflammation two brown eyes scan your face

- 'the wolf walks alone' you quietly utter the code phrase for identity verification

- he watches you like an owl watches a mouse with cautious patience but he gives no indication that he'll answer

- you can't stay there too long; someone might catch you here or someone could report that you never came back from the bathroom break

- you reach for the hood to place it back on the prisoner’s head, knowing that you can't do anything for him and in this state he can't even provide a distraction for you to slip out unnoticed

-as you get closer tiptoeing to reach above his head he grunts, you stop in your tracks making eye contact

- his dried and busted lips start to quiver you wait for a moment giving him a chance to prove you wrong

- 'But the pack's got its back...' he draws out in a deep guttural voice laced with a thick Manchester accent

- phrase matching your own, you get to work hastily finding a way to get him down

- as you unlock the chains wounded around his wrists you try to support his weight which proves impossible

- you barely manage to break his fall turning yourself in a cushion under his massive form

- you huff and try to pull him up ' I can't carry you' you mutter to him. 'You gotta get up, soldier' you try and nudge him, you slip and talk in the familiar British accent

- he stalls, taking in deep breaths trying to surpass the pain and ache, multiple bones broken, muscles tumefied, and skin bearing to many cuts and bruises. Blood covers him like a deathly veil

- he tries and with your help he manages to stand but he can barely walk on his own, he can barely see, he can barely think, having sustained multiple concussions

- with great difficulty you get moving, praying to yourself that the guard might be gone, taking a piss or having a smoke

- your prayers are answered, no one is on the otherwise busy hallways this late at night, many having called it a night going back to their rooms

- as you pass the med bay your quick thinking finds a credible disguise: you steal a lab coat and a doctor's key card, some glasses that make your vision blurry once you put them on, and get the wounded soldier in a wheel chair

-he huffs but you can clearly see the relief overtaking him as he no longer has to stand

-you throw a medical gown over him concealing the dried blood on his bare torso

-once you clean his face a little and bandage his whole head to cover his identity, you grab a few bottles of morphine and a med kit for later and push the wheelchair out the door

- you aim for the underground parking lot, where civilians’ workers such as your cover, keep their personal cars

-you hope that the sentinels stationed at the gates won't look too closely at your backseat as you carefully push the wounded man in the car

- everything goes smooth from there, the guards wishing you a good night, no questions ask as to your departure from the base

- once you get farther away you start speeding eyeing for any police cars that might stop you or any military vehicle that might chase you

- to your dumb surprise no one follows you the mountain road dark and deserted

- you head to your safehouse where you have stashed money, fake id's, a new disguise and another car.

- once you change everything and make sure that the soldier still breathes in the back of the SUV, after you've administered some first help giving him the relief of morphine, you burn everything down

- the wooden house the other car, everything, nothing can be left behind to be tracked to you or to the MI6, you have taken precautions that borderline OCD, but you know that you have to be through, no detail to small

- once you're back on the road you contact your handler, a tired voice but you can hear the sound of relief as he hears your voice

- he's pleased that everything went smooth, no alarm was triggered, no shot was fired, no chase happened and you even managed to save your would-be saviour, sent specifically to get you out of that den of wolves

- you announce your E.T.A. to the agreed pickup location and you are annoyed to hear you'll have to wait a bit, your nerves are starting to fray, and body to tire

- you don't have the manpower nor the firepower to make a stand in the woods until the heli gets there

-but you do as you're told, as always

- you grab the pistol you keep under the passenger seat and place it in your lap; the heaviness in your lap gives very little reassurance

- but not long passes and you can hear the lovely sound of an Apache helicopter

- in a whirlwind of dust and voices shouting out instructions both you and the soldier are placed in the metal beast's bowls

-you inform the medics of the dosage of morphine you gave to the soldier as they start hooking him to machines that monitor his vital signs

-you don't even know his name and he definitely doesn't know yours as per protocol, and you doubt you'll ever see him again

-you won't even be there when he'll wake up, he'll probably never know of your act of kindness; you could have left him behind but instead you risked your safety for his

- any other agent would've done it, but not you, you couldn't leave one of your own behind

- you still hold your breath, eager to cross the border and get back to HQ where meetings and debriefs will be held, and rapports will be written then redacted

-you expect the compliments at a job well done and the proud pats on the back from your superiors, even though for you that's just a show

- you know you will get a free month at best to recover and then you'll be shipped somewhere else to do it all over again

- it's a lonely life, and full of danger but it makes you sleep better at night knowing you helped soil some plans that could be used to hurt innocents

- once the pilot announces that you crossed the borders you slightly relax on the padded bench, closing your eyes in relief but not allowing yourself to fall asleep yet

- when you feel the heli dipping down towards the tarmac you open your eyes eager to get off the noisy thing and looking forward for some commodities you know wait ready inside the base

- you watch as the soldier gets rolled toward the med bay and you get pulled by a Sargent that informs you, he's there to take you to the commander of the base

- you'd hopped to at least get a few hours of sleep before the rounds of interrogations start, but the higher-ups are hungry for the confirmation of a successful mission

- you trudge behind the Sargent mentally preparing for the onslaught of questions and can't help but wonder what of the wounded soldier

-you subconsciously hope he'll pull through

Next part here.

[skzhocomments]

A Chance of Fate (Lee Know) - Chapter 1 - Know Your Cats

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad | AO3

Chapter 2

---

Chapter 1 - Know Your Cats

Chapter word count: 4.4k words

It was cold.

The winter wind hit your cheeks mercilessly, bringing a chill down your spine and making you shiver.

Why me?  You thought, tears stinging the corners of your eyes but not daring to fall yet. Crying made you tired, and you were already tired enough. Your feet were swollen from the walking, your arms sore from carrying the small bag with the few items you managed to take with you, and your back hurt from the weight of your ever-growing belly.

7 months.

That’s how long you’ve been pregnant for.

You were one of the unlucky ones who didn’t see pregnancy as this wonderful miracle the media made it out to be. For you, it was the most horrible thing you could’ve gone through. 

The first three months, you’ve been sick and felt the need to throw up each time you smelled anything. Anything. The next 3 months, you’ve felt so tired, you could barely get out of bed. Another nail in the coffin of your relationship. It also didn’t help that your partner has been borderline abusive ever since you told him about the baby – which was the very reason you’ve left at this late hour basically penniless.

And now, the cravings. Damn, these fucking cravings – what made you stop in front of a small restaurant called “Know your Cats”.

What a strange name, you thought and chuckled a bit.

From outside, “Know your Cats” looked like a cosy place. There didn’t seem to be too many people in, probably because of the late hour, but whatever they ordered smelled amazing. You wanted to eat it so badly. So, you went in and sat down at one of the tables in the corner of the small restaurant, as far away as possible from other people. You didn’t dare to take off your winter coat yet, but inside was warm. So warm, it almost warmed up your heart too.

Soon enough, a young waiter approached you.

“Good evening, ma’am, what can I get for you? Considering that I haven’t seen you here before, it must be the first time you come to our restaurant. So, maybe I could bring you something to drink while you consult the menu. Maybe some water?” he spoke quickly in a friendly tone and pulled out a pen and a small notebook.

Watching him talk so fast was pretty funny to you, you thought his chubby cheeks looked amusing when so many words per second would get out of his mouth.

“Uhm… sorry, but…” you didn’t dare raise your head, aware of the light bulb towering above you. After all, you’ve chosen to leave home at such a late hour for two reasons:

1. Your partner was away God knows where.

2. The dark bruises all over you. Ah, and your busted lip, the accessory that completed your look. The cherry on top.

However, the boy didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t say anything about it.

“… I was wondering what the people over there are having… it smells really good.”

“Oh, thank you! That’s our dear owner’s speciality! A secret recipe, if you will!”

The boy’s excitement brought a smile to your lips.

“It’s really just a fancy pork ragu.” He whispered, winking.

“Could I please know how much a serving costs?” you spoke quietly, counting in your head how much money you had in your pocket.

$7. Yes, that’s all your dear partner left for you to get some food when he left “on a business trip” 5 days ago. You knew that this was just code for cheating, and you cursed yourself yet again for not keeping your job 5 months ago when your pregnancy symptoms started getting worse. If you did, maybe you wouldn’t have endured his abuse for so long.

God, how could you have been so stupid? You weren’t even married, yet you let yourself become completely dependent on him as soon as the pregnancy test came out positive. You let him drag you down, comment on your weight, physically and financially abuse you, yet you stayed for so long. The thought of homelessness weighed heavier than everything else you’ve experienced living with him, until it didn’t.

“That’s $15. Would you also like something to drink with it? I heard orange juice is one of the best drinks to have while pregnant, and the owner makes a delicious one!”

$15. But you only had $7.

He scribbled something in the notepad and kept talking, but you didn’t even hear anything else he said. You just felt your eyes swell up with tears again, your vision getting blurry.

You were so hungry.

You started petting your belly and thought of the small child growing inside of you. There were no words to describe how terrible you felt for putting your future child through this. If you were alone, you wouldn’t mind going hungry, but knowing that you were hurting someone else as well – someone you loved so much already – was killing you.

“I… I can’t afford that…” you smiled bitterly, your voice so quiet, barely audible. “Maybe… there’s something on your menu that’s $7 or less?”

“I don’t think…” the young waiter rubbed his nape apologetically.

“That’s- that’s okay, I’m so sorry to have wasted your time.” You tightened the coat around your frame and prepared yourself mentally to get up and face the cold again.

Where were you going to go?

You didn’t want to think about it. But oh, you should’ve. You should’ve thought about it long ago and made a viable escape plan. Instead, you left with a small bag, $7 in your pockets and an almost empty phone. You also threw out your keys in one of the trash cans around the building you lived in with your partner, just to make sure you wouldn’t return.

“You know what, please wait a second. Stay here. Don’t go anywhere, okay?” The young waiter said quickly and turned his back at you, hurrying towards the counter.

Like you had anywhere you could go.

~

“Hey, everything good? What’s got you running like that?” Minho started, amused by Han’s speed so late in the evening.

“Hyung, what should we do?”

Minho raised an eyebrow.

“There’s this woman – I don’t have all the details, obviously, but she looks… she has bruises all over. And she’s pregnant. And she only has $7 and-”

“Hey, slow down a bit, will you?”

“What I’m saying is” – he inhaled loudly – “let’s give her some food on the house. What do you think?”

“And why would we do that?” Minho raised an eyebrow.

“Hyung, don’t be so cold. Let’s help her! Please???”

“Why should we? We don’t owe anyone anything. Who comes to a restaurant with no money anyway?” Minho cursed out.

“You know what? Just go over there and see for yourself, if you don’t want to give her anything on the house, then I’ll pay for her meal myself! Greedy bastard.” Han replied in an annoyed tone.

“Yah, it’s not like business’ been going so well lately, asshole!” Minho rolled his eyes and cursed him out.

However, he wasn’t actually as indifferent as he wanted to seem – and he couldn’t ignore what Han said either. Maybe that’s what made him so special in his friend’s eyes. So, Minho went and grabbed a glass of some freshly squeezed orange juice.

Han said she was pregnant, maybe she has morning sickness? He thought, so he poured out some ginger tea as well. That helped Chan’s wife – one of his closest friends – when she was pregnant. It should help you too, right?

With a glass of juice in his right hand and a cup of tea in his left, he made his way over the bar to the only occupied corner in the room. The loud table in the middle of the restaurant motioned for him to come and requested the check, but Han was right behind Minho, so he took care of them in an instant, seeing them out and locking the door behind them, making sure to turn the “Closed” sign around.

~

Your train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the sound of two glass objects hitting the table.

You raised your head and noticed a glass filled with what you assumed to be orange juice, and a cup with a lid on top, but before you could investigate what was in it, the fresh smell hit your nostrils, bringing a smile on your face.

Ginger tea, your favourite.

A good-looking man took the seat in front of you. He was very beautiful. It was like his face was painted by a skilled artist – his mouth, nose and eyelashes looked perfect, and his skin was flawless, almost making you jealous.

Boys always have the best eyelashes. You thought, glossing over his features once more.

You quickly noticed that what you liked the most about him were his eyes. A deep shade of brown orbs that glistened like stars under the restaurant’s light. And they were looking right at you, observing your every move and mannerism. Catching a glimpse of your own reflection in his eyes made you unwittingly frown.

You noticed quickly what he was wearing: a casual shirt and jeans and an apron. Is he the chef? You questioned, but before you could say anything, the man introduced himself.

“Hello, I’m Minho, the owner of the restaurant. Please.” He said, a kind smile forming in the corners of his mouth, while pointing at the drinks he brought.

“Hello, Minho. Thank you.” You smiled back and took a small sip of the orange juice. “This tastes nice. I’m Dal-Rae, by the way.”

Dal-Rae… Minho analysed your name in his head for a few seconds, thinking about how pretty it sounds. And looking at you, it seemed fitting, somehow.

Even with how tired your figure was, Minho could still be able to see behind the fatigue and notice your beautiful features.

“Nice to meet you, Dal-Rae, and welcome to Know your Cats.” He gestured proudly to the restaurant, making you chuckle.

“That’s a very funny name. What’s the inspiration behind it?”

“Well, that would be my three cats.”

“Oh my God, you have three cats?! That’s amazing!” You exclaimed, excited by the new information.

“You think so? Do you like cats?” He asked, his eyes sparkling.

“I love them! I always wanted one but…” but you never considered yourself responsible enough to take care of yourself, let alone of another living, breathing being. Or at least that’s what your partner made you believe about yourself the whole time you lived with him.

“You will never be a good mother” he would tell you. “You wouldn’t even be able to take care of a hamster, let alone a cat. And now you’re pregnant?! How will someone as horrible as you take care of a baby?! Don’t make me laugh!”

And you always believed him. After all, he knew you so well. Right?

“So, why did you keep it? Are you that self-centred? Did you really have to do this so I’ll never leave you?” he would scream at you, forgetting that it took two to tango. Forgetting that he was the one that took off the condom without your knowledge and permission so many months ago.

“You wanna see some pics?” Minho smiled genuinely and took out his phone, shifting your focus back at him. He seemed very hopeful that you would say yes, for some reason.

“I’d love to!” You replied honestly. You truly loved cats. They were adorable balls of fur, and you would cuddle with them all day if given the chance.

“That’s great! Okay, but before that… Jisung? Please bring out some servings of the special recipe for us, will you?” he spoke, and then opened his gallery and started showing you cute pictures of his three cats.

You learnt that their names were Soonie, Doongie and Dori and you pretty much remembered which was which from the first picture he showed you, something that truly surprised Minho. Not even Han knew all their names, and even if he would somehow remember them, he would mix up Doongie and Soonie. But for real now, was it so difficult to remember that Soonie had stripes and Doongie had a white belly? Come on!

“By the way, you can make yourself comfortable and take off your jacket. You must be hot with so many layers on you.” He got up and helped you with your winter coat, placing it neatly on a chair next to you.

“Oh, thank you…”

Jisung brought the food soon after you and Minho made some more small talk. He brought three servings with him and placed a plate in front of you, one in front of Minho and one in front of an empty seat, which he was quick to take.

Both Han and Minho started eating, but you felt a bit… weird. Out of place.

“Anything wrong?” Minho asked concerned, noticing that you didn’t even put your hand on the spoon.

“I… I really can’t… pay for this, unless… you accept $7?” You asked unsure and grabbed the crumbled notes from your coat pockets. You tried straightening out the notes as well as you could, but when you handed it to Minho, you noticed he looked at you with a big frown on his face, his eyes immediately softening.

He put his hands on the one hand you gave him that was still holding the money, and made you close it into a fist. It was his way of telling you that you should keep it.

“Don’t worry about it, you already paid when you listened to this weirdo talk about his cats for 15 minutes straight.” Han replied and patted your shoulder, as if he was comforting you for enduring so much.

“Yah, loudmouth, shut it!” Minho retorted. “And you better start eating while it’s still hot.” He took the spoon in front of you off the table and looked at you expectantly, as you hesitantly put the money back in your coat. When you were done, he placed the spoon in your right hand, gesturing to the food. “Come on, eat. Or do I have to feed you myself?” He kept looking at you, coercing you into trying a bite.

And damn, were you right! It not only smelled amazing, but it tasted heavenly.

“Fuck me, this is so good!” You said with no filter, forgetting for a moment that the men in front of you were, in fact, not your friends.

But eating with them did feel like getting food with a friend. Maybe that’s why you relaxed so much and spoke your mind freely, for what felt like the first time in years. You were not allowed to curse when you lived with your ex. It would start a raging fit from him, because “What kind of woman has such a rotten mouth?”, and you would regret opening your mouth and saying anything.

“Oops, excuse me!” you said, covering your mouth with your hands.

The two men, however, seemed to not mind your lack of manners, and started cheering when you told them that you loved the food.

~

“Thank you so much for this.” You said to Minho, both of you looking at how Han cleaned up the now empty table in the middle of the room. “Truly.”

“No worries.” Minho replied nonchalantly, his eyes darting away from you. Despite his indifferent tone, his mannerisms indicated that he’s somewhat nervous, as he rubbed his nape in slight embarrassment.

“I… uhm… really feel bad for not paying you at all for this. Like I said, I can only give you this much, but…” you grabbed your coat so you could take out the money again, but before you were able to do so, Minho stopped you by placing his hand on your wrist.

“Please keep them, that’s okay.”

“But…”

“I’m serious.” He looked straight at you, his glance alone convincing you to let it go. You didn’t want to risk annoying him, and it seemed your conversation would take that direction if you kept insisting.

“Okay. Uhm… I should take my leave now.” You said, petting your belly and grabbing your small hand luggage.

“Where are you going? Home…?” Minho treaded carefully, his words holding an inexplicable weight over you.

Home… I don’t have a home anymore.

You shook your head and tried to push the thoughts away, and tried thinking logically for once. Where could you go?

Letting out a small sigh, you replied, slightly dejected.

“Well… there should be a women's shelter about 4 km from here.”

“4 km?! Don’t tell me you plan on walking over there at 1 am in the middle of a winter night.”

You didn’t understand why his tone suddenly changed, and nor did Minho. He shouldn’t give two shits for a stranger, but he was somehow… worried for you?

“I mean… I don’t really have a choice… It’s not that far. I can make it. It’s only an hour walk away.” You replied, trying to convince him and yourself as well. The truth was that you were so tired, you could fall asleep if you put your head on the table, and your feet hurt so bad.

Being pregnant sucked.

“Let me take you. Jisung will be done in a minute and then we can go.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly- You already helped me so much.”

“I don’t even wanna hear it. Han, hurry up!”

“THERE’S STILL THE DISHES LEFT, HYUNG!”

“Just leave them. I’ll do them tomorrow morning.”

“OKAY THEN! I’M COMING!”

Without a second thought, Minho grabbed your bag and gestured to you that you could now go. Han went his own way, while Minho guided you to his car, in the opposite direction.

He opened the door for you and helped you in, actions that somehow made your stomach clench. No one’s acted so nice towards you. Ever.

And he was doing that for a complete stranger.

He started the car and drove to the destination you put in the GPS, and for the first time in your life, you felt an overwhelming feeling of safety. How funny it was – to feel so safe next to a stranger, when you haven’t once felt safe next to your so-called boyfriend – or rather, ex.

You were once again on the verge of crying as you’ve made this realisation in your head. How come you felt safe next to Minho? Was this really how you were supposed to feel next to someone else? Relieved, protected…

How come you’ve never felt this way before, next to your ex?

The 4-minute drive would’ve taken you more than an hour walk in the cold, so you now appreciated Minho even more for giving you a ride.

“So, this is it, right?” He said, parking in front of a small building that had all the lights off.

Weird, you thought and nodded unsure.

You both got out of the car and walked towards the building’s door, a small paper on it drawing your attention, almost burning your eyes.

“Unfortunately, due to a funding issue, the “Stay Safe” Women Shelter had to shut down indefinitely. In case of emergency, we recommend contacting our affiliate, “House of Hope” Homeless Shelter (+0X 0XXXXXXXXX) and they should offer you the help you need. We apologise for any inconvenience!”

The way your face dropped did not go unnoticed by Minho. It became clear to him that this has been your only escape route.

You slowly took out your phone from your pocket and clumsily formed the number on the paper, barely able to see with your screen’s brightness so low. You couldn’t turn it up though, since your battery percentage was so low, so you struggled and squinted your eyes, carefully pressing on each number on your phone, which proved to be so much more difficult through the tears building up in your eyes. It was getting harder and harder to swallow back the lump in your throat.

After a few rings, someone answered.

“House of Hope Homeless Shelter, this is Kelly, how may I assist you?”

“Good evening… I am contacting you because I needed some help and… I was just in front of the Stay Safe Shelter…”

“Oh, good evening, ma’am. Were you looking for a place to stay tonight?”

“Not just tonight… I don’t know for how long…”

“Are you alone, or are there also kids with you?”

“It’s just me… I’m 7 months pregnant.”

“We understand… Unfortunately, our shelter is full at the moment. The government retracted most of our funding, so these are difficult times. However, if you would be able to wait for a few minutes, I will try to contact other shelters to see if anyone would be able to take you in for now.”

“Oh…okay.”

“Thank you, ma’am, I will get back to you shortly.”

~

You let Minho know of the phone conversation and told him to head home, but he was adamant you would leave with him, or at least wait for the phone call in the comfort of the heated car. After some convincing, you found each other listening to some slow songs on the radio, enjoying the car’s warmth and watching the year’s first snow through the windshield.

Despite the peaceful atmosphere, you were restless and anxious. Your hands were trembling, and you couldn’t think straight. Where else would you go?

Minho didn’t say anything either. He kept thinking of ways to calm you down: should he lay his hand on top of yours and tell you that everything was going to be okay? Should he say anything at all? Why was he still with you, anyway?

You tried to think of anything else and ignore the feeling of impending doom settling in your stomach, so you looked out the window. Small snowflakes would land on the car’s hood and immediately turn to water due to the heat.

Your eyes would dart to Minho from time to time, who seemed to be lost in his own little world as he watched the same scene in front of you - the snowflakes dancing in the sky and landing on the car - and you remembered that one belief that watching the first snowfall of the year with someone would lead to falling in love with them. However, it felt like such a foolish thought, you immediately let it go.

25 minutes later, your phone’s ringtone snapped you both out of your trance. You made a mental note to change your ringtone after how anxious it made you feel right now, being sure that you won’t be able to keep hearing it again after this horrendous day.

“Yes?”

“Hello, ma’am? We apologise for the delay. Unfortunately, we were unable to find any shelter close to your location that would be able to accommodate you for tonight. We recommend going to a police station and asking for help, and you could try calling again tomorrow, when possible new resources would be available.”

“I… Seriously?” You started, but when the lady started apologising countless times on the phone for not being able to help you out, you simply ended the call. You wished the earth would swallow you whole, making you disappear for good.

But then you slapped yourself mentally. How could you be so selfish as to wish to disappear? You were not alone anymore. Your body was not yours alone anymore, and your baby didn’t deserve any of your selfish thoughts. You needed to be strong.

“What did they say?” Minho asked anxiously.

Why was he feeling like this anyway? This was so stupid, you thought. You’re no one. You’re just a random woman who stumbled upon his restaurant and took advantage of his kindness.

“They… they aren’t able to help me, so they recommended I go to a police station for tonight. Perhaps tomorrow, they’ll make some room…”

“Then, should we go to a police station…?” Minho hesitated.

You snorted and turned to him, answering in a more annoyed tone than you would’ve liked to.

“Do you think I can go to the police looking like this?!”

Minho’s eyes grew wide, conveyed in them what could only be described as shock. You didn’t want to lose your cool, not against this man who’s been nothing but kind to you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. I just… I’m very stressed right now and that didn’t come out as I wanted it to, and-”

“Why? Why can’t you go to the police? Are you trying to protect whoever did this to you?!” Minho cut you off and replied in an equally annoyed tone as you. However, despite the harshness in his voice, you didn’t get the feeling that he was angry. Instead, it felt more like he was scolding you.

“It’s not that! It’s just… I’m scared, okay? I’m scared they will ask me questions and when I tell them the truth, he’ll find out and come get me. He’ll… he’ll definitely find out. He’ll find me, and I’m scared of him. I just want me and my baby to be safe!” You continued, losing your composure for a moment and allowing this dreadful weakness to take over you. You started crying and placed your face steady between your palms, thinking about how pathetic you were being.

“Okay, you know what? I’m sure you are very tired right now.” He put one hand on top of your head and petted it gently, making you raise your face and look at him. His eyes were kind and assuring. “Resting is also good for the baby.” He continued, and as he said that, he put the car into gear and drove off.

“Where…?” you tried to ask, confused, but you ended up choking on a sob.

“Back to the restaurant. I have some extra rooms. After a good night’s sleep, you’ll clear your head and be able to think better.”

“Minho…” you sobbed. “Really? I… I can’t-”

“It’s okay, Dal-Rae. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to figure everything out tomorrow.”

“Thank you so much, but… are you sure…?”

“Mhm.” Minho brushed you off with his hand and continued driving, both of you staying silent, listening to the soft tunes on the radio.

When you arrived, Minho led you upstairs. You were surprised that the place had stairs in the first place, since you didn’t notice them earlier. On the top of the stairs, a door was separating the restaurant and the three-bedroom apartment Minho lived in.

“It’s so the cats don’t go out.” he explained, and you understood what he meant as soon as he opened the door and Dori came running and screaming at the both of you.

“What’s up? Hungry?” Minho replied and scratched Dori’s chin, and as the sounds of his voice rang throughout the apartment, Doongie and Soonie spawned out of nowhere as well.

“Oh my god, hi babies!” You exclaimed and smiled, quickly placing yourself on your knees to pet them, since you couldn’t exactly bend, your belly being so large by now.

You didn’t notice Minho’s smile. He was stuck looking at how quickly his cats accepted you and let you scratch their fur, Soonie even purring against your stomach and petting itself on it lovingly.

“Okay, enough playing, it’s late. Let’s get you up.” Minho put his palms under your arms and lifted you from the ground like you were a kid, bringing a slight chuckle to your lips.

---

Chapter 2

[crescencestudio]

๋࣭⭑ Devlog #42 | 6.25.24 ๋࣭⭑

tis the season of Kayn

HAPPY SUMMER!!

Hope you're all doing well and keeping cool <3 I know for me it's started getting to.... the Hot Season. To celebrate the start of Hot Girl Summer (and the beta route going live), I of course had to draw the hottest girl, Kayn.

we must stay cool brothers

Now that we've paid respect to The Hot Girl, let's get into the devlog!

Writing has been fun this month. A lot of it has been dedicated to Etza edits and writing Kuna'a's route. We're getting to about the halfway mark with Etza edits, so we are definitely chugging along!

Sneaky peeky of a recent edit

For Kuna'a's route, I said I wanted to have his first draft complete or almost complete by the next devlog, and I'm VERY PLEASED AND PROUD to say their first draft is In Fact almost complete! This is, of course, the very, very first draft so I'll be going back in to flesh some scenes out here and there and rizz him up even more. But I'm happy with the fact that at least the very base draft is done ^^

This month, I did quite a bit of drawing actually! I finished rendering two of Kayn's CGs, meaning 8 out of their total 9 CGs are finished YYYEEEAAAHHHH!!!!!

it feels so good to see the ending cg titles ouuggHHHH

Because Fenir's beta will be going out soon, I wanted to make some headway on his CGs. This month, I ended up finishing 3 of his CGs and sketching two. I'd really like to get 5-6 of his CGs finished so that it's a similar amount to Kayn's beta, so here's to praying!

baby girl

I also finished Senja's (they/he) sprite and base expressions. His outfit was designed by very talented bestie @saffein-e so please thank them for doing god's work o7

Finally, this past month we worked mostly on Kayn's beta route and getting Fenir's beta route ready for Patreon access!

If you'd like to try out Kayn's beta, you can get access to it if you subscribe to my Patreon (tier Hydra). Beta access to Kayn's route will close as soon as Fenir's beta goes up which will be early July, so if you want to experience Kayn's beta, definitely make sure you subscribe before it ends!

Player feedback for Kayn's route so far has been really positive, which has been a relief, especially since Kayn's route is the first one I wrote so is arguably the roughest (I have a big soft spot for it and like it, but I'm obviously Biased). So I hope you're all looking forward to it!! <4

beta feedback: so real

I also have started the voice acting sessions for the characters, which is EXTREMELY EXCITING!! That's the last asset I need basically, so the fact we have finally entered a stage where we can start recording is crazy. Our current session is for Kayn's route, but in the coming months we'll be moving to the next routes similar to how beta-testing is going :')

Aside from Kayn's route, I've also been working on coding Fenir's beta route. Rereading his script and he's... a cutie, I'll admit. So I hope the Fenir fans are excited for his route to enter the beta phase!

LET'S.......... GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Last thing, but I also ran a poll on Alaris's release, basically asking whether you all would prefer a full or segmented release. The results were basically 50/50 LMFAO and that's the vibe I've been getting in general. So while I don't want to solidify anything yet, just let it be known that Alaris may end up having a segmented release, where the first four Central routes are released first, and the Fae routes a bit later. I'll see how I start feeling as the year goes on and where Alaris stands, but thank you all for the support and understanding for the poll <3

I was pretty busy this month, so I didn't have too much time to do market research :cries:

But............

I did see the new Haikyuu movie..................... And I am the biggest Haikyuu fan. Quite literally if you want to know everything about who I am as a person and creator, watch Haikyuu and you will understand who I am to my deepest depths.

obviously I had to draw baby

But aside from that, I want to give one last shoutout to our Hot Girl Summer cross-promo! If there are any games you haven't tried out in this little set, I highly recommend giving at least 1 or 2 of them a peek! All of the games are so charming and have some similarity to Alaris, whether it's a personality mechanic, hot Fae, or a fantasy/ adventure story :')

Links to each game can be found on the Alaris Game page under the magic and mystery otome section!

I'm pretty happy with the progress we made this month. While there's still a lot to do, it's satisfying to see Alaris come more and more to life with each month. See you all next month with hopefully more exciting progress!

[koreanbibliophilegirl]

CHARACTER BLURBS FOR MY DSMP SUPERPOWER AU

As promised to @aimlovesmusic :D 💗

Requested characters were Eternal Duo(Eret and Foolish), Quackity, and Ranboo!

Eret👑

Hero!

Hero Name: Monarch

Unofficial spokesperson for the Hero HQ, bc she's beloved by the masses and can stay calm & collected in the spotlight. In other words, he's the best cannon fodder for them 'cause she's got both high popularity ranking and PR skills.

Power is physical control(? idk what to call it), anyone who sees their glowing white eyes has to move in any way she commands. For example, he could tell someone to drop the gun, and that person would have to drop it. She can't control minds though, so everyone is fully conscious during the control & he can't tell people to think a certain way. + the control stops when Eret can't see you anymore/covers their eyes, with sunglasses, etc.

Hero HQ set his image up to be some sort of lethargic royal, never moving more than they need to- but Eret can run in heels & throw things with scary precision actually. She carries knives around just in case, and later they acquire mini grenades! :D

Likes maracons(INHALES them whenever they're stressed)

Foolish🦈

Also a hero!

Tentatively labeled the Golden Shark

He can call up storms and/or rain/thunder/lightning separately- indoors or outdoors, it doesn't matter.

Also, given enough material, he can build things in seconds! He essentially draws out a blueprint in his mind and moves his hands accordingly, and the materials just assemble themselves. This is usually v exhausting though, it's total knockdown for him if the build is big enough.

Adopted by former hero Puffy(Hero Name: Captain Puffy) as a teen

Is friends with fellow hero Tina Kitten(Hero Name: Carrot Cat... Probably. I'm still working on it)! Tina's powers(basically Cat™️) overlap with other, more popular heroes though, so Foolish got way more support from the Hero System than her. Foolish feels bad about this and tries to help her get more recognition, but there really isn't much he can do.

Hero System favors popular heroes and gives them waaaaaay too many patrols, so he's always exhausted now that he's in the top 10

Meat lover

Eternal Duo👑❤️🦈

Often paired on patrols together

Dating <3

One of the most popular RPF ships on in-universe ao3

They've got a Golden Deities brand, since Foolish's hero persona is Playful but Powerful God of Storms & Eret's the Languid, Relaxed Royalty, and both their costumes have golden bits on them.

Foolish gets shanked on patrol and Eret goes INSANE with their throwing knives

Poor villain Redrum didn't know what hit him lol

After the Golden Shark is announced to be in recovery, the videos of Monarch chasing down Redrum in heels becomes a sort of internet meme

Even more so bc Eret was the only hero who ever came close to actually catching Redrum

Eret expertly wielding knives in public leads to a rebranding, since the powerful-lazy-monarch persona was more or less shattered. Foolish wholeheartedly supports & enthusiastically endorses this change👍

Quackity🎰

Mafia kingpin

Code Name: Rey Club

There's an explanation about the Las Nevadas codename system in the "Lilly's dsmp superpower au" tag. ...Somewhere. I don't have the link rn. I'll add it later😅👍

[Edit: here! Also I realized I changed some minor details since I posted that. Las Nevadas is not a family business!]

Took over LN when he was younger. Vibes are <The Court Jester> by thquib. I love that song.

Paranoid about his position as a result

SKILLED bartender

Since he hides his face as Rey Club, he secretly works in the LN casino palace's bar as Quackity the bartender. He hears a lot of gossip that way, and it's sorta relaxing too.

Sometimes he orders hits on Karens

Fave cocktail is Clover Club, but he pretends to like Casinos better when he's Rey Club

Ranboo🖤💜🤍

Triple Powered, which is super rare

All of benchtrio has 2+ powers so they all pretend to be single-powered(choosing their weaker powers to show) so that their vigilante identities stay hidden

Ranboo can teleport, compress(Silk Touch?), and BITE. They can bite through near anything. Chomp chomp

Works at the local library under Technoblade

And therefore first of the Bench Trio vigilante team to discover wildly popular vigilante duo Emerald Duo's civilian identities

Likes figs- wait why do I keep talking about favorite foods. Eh whatever. He also likes cake & other sweet baked goods.

Vigilante name is Endgame apparently. I'm ngl I completely forgot what I named them & had to check my notes OTL

(Tubbo and Ranboo's vigilante names went through a lot of changes so I lost track of them skajskdaskjdka)

Doesn't talk as Endgame bc they're afraid they'll stutter and sound awkward + doesn't trust himself to not give away his speech mannerisms. Tommy and Tubbo don't care but Ranboo is Anxious™️

This impacts Endgame's popularity as a vigilante a bit

Aaaaaand that's all four!!!! 🥳💕

It's been a hot minute since I worked on DSMP Superpower AU, so it's really nice returning to it :3 Hopefully I can work on it more after my exams😊😅

[avatarmerida]

So Dana tweeted this and I’m not sure what to label this AU but basically Willow is a baddie skating in the halls and Hunter is a student council member who is always on her case. Do they have magic? Idk. Am I obsessed? Yuh. Also based on this art and this art by @turquoisespace35 this art by @smallpapers and also this art by @gravityfying. Anyway, here’s some huntlow fluff thanks for the inspiration guys! Hope ya like it!

———

Hunter was simply minding his own business, trying to identify the bird in the tree above him and having a rather pleasant afternoon as he tried to destress from his eventful day. To be fair, every day was eventful for him. As a student council member and top of his class, he was responsible for making sure Hexside' reputation stayed pristine. This had earned him a rather unfavorable reputation himself. He was a legacy, he had high expectations, so he needed to do everything in his power to bring everyone to his level. In his mind, he was strict but fair. But the students saw him as a glorified hall monitor.

Which is why he always walked home alone.

As he admired the red bird that seemed to be calling out to him, the pleasant sound of silence was interrupted by a panicky echo.

“Look out!” came a familiar voice, but before Hunter could attempt to ‘look out’ as the voice had advised, his world went blurry and the next thing he knew he was pinned against the tree. When he regained focus, having a few choice words at the ready, he was stunned to find the culprit was one of his classmates.

His rebellious classmate with the most dress code violations. His resilient classmate who always had holes in her stocking and scars and bruises on her knees from skidding and falling so often. His carefree classmate who was the reason he carried a first aid kit with him. His breathtaking classmate whose bright peridot eyes somehow managed to shine through the yellow tint of her safety goggles. His classmate who was… a classmate, and nothing more.

Does she skate everywhere? He thought, knowing her skates were the cause of their… position. Skating in the hall was one thing, but this path was all downhill; even a pro would have a hard time stopping.

“Hunter! Hi! What are you doing here?” Willow casually asked the boy she currently had pinned against a tree, her hands resting naturally on his chest. Even with the height her skates gave her, he was still so much taller than her.

“Well I… I have a life outside of school, you know,” he replied, somewhat lying, his face positively beet red. Her skates made her so much taller, but she had never been this close to him. She had flipped back her signature yellow shades to see him better, apparently he was so close that he was in focus without them.

“I know,” she said plainly. “I just thought you had that big presentation today.”

“Oh that, no that’s tomorrow.” he said, his composure returning at the mention of business. “Really? Cause I’m pretty sure that’s where Amity is,” said Willow, backing up to give him space. “I thought it was the 4th.”

“It is,” he said. “On Wednesday.”

“No, Hunter today is the 4th,” said Willow.

“Wh- a-are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Don’t you remember when you wrote me up on Friday? You said ‘this is the last one of the month’ because the next day was the first and that was Saturday, so then Sunday was the second and then yesterday-.”

“Oh no,” he said softly, the color draining from his face as he realized she was right. His breathing became faster. “Oh no, oh no, oh no! H-how did I mess this up?’

“Hey, it’s okay! It doesn’t start until 4 so you-.”

“It’s almost 3:45 and the school is at least a 35 minute walk,” said Hunter, beginning to spiral. “A-and we always start right on time and I’m supposed to go first and if I don’t go then my proposal won’t be considered and if my proposal isn’t considered then that means I’ve spent weeks preparing for nothing and not to mention if my uncle hears that I-.”

“Hey! Hey, hey, hey,” said Willow, waving her hands in front of his eyes to get him to snap out of it. She placed her hands on his shoulders to direct his focus on her. “Just breathe, okay? Look at me and breathe. Count with me 1,2,3 in and 1,2,3, out. In and out.”

She motioned him to follow as she counted with her fingers, not removing her eyes from his until he felt safe to follow her instructions. Hunter would normally feel silly but it actually helped him. He focused on Willow and while his anxieties did not disappear, they definitely felt less heavy.

“Good,” Willow said gently when she could tell his heart was no longer about to explode. “Now, let’s think of a solution, okay? There’s always a way to help. Now, you’re right; the school is about a 35 minute walk from here-.”

“I know, it’s useless to even think that-.”

“-but I bet we can cut that in half on skates,” she finished with a smile.

Hunter looked at her like she was insane, like there was a punchline coming, but she remained unmoved. She was serious.

“What? Are you gonna carry me to the school on your skates? Y-you’re just gonna scoop me in your arms, and whisk me away as we speed off together into the sunset like you’re some kind of beautiful knight who reached me o-or something? Is that what you’re saying?” The way Hunter said it made it seem like he didn’t believe it was possible but also that he had had this impossible thought before. More than once. He didn’t seem against it.

“Um, not quite,” she smiled. She turned to remove her backpack, a blush gracing her cheeks (though it was nothing compared to the one Hunter currently wore) as she pulled her solution from her knapsack.

“You brought extra roller skates?” Hunter said, somehow not really supposed.

“I literally go nowhere without them!” Willow exclaimed in a bright, bubbly one, as she handed them to him. “They’re my dad’s old pair and I was gonna give them to Gus but they’re too big, but they should fit you! How lucky is that?”

“What, you expect me to do the presentation in roller skates? That’s worse than not showing up at all!”

“No, we can put your shoes in my bag and you can change when you get there,” she said simply. “We can totally get you there in time, I know a short cut.”

She seemed so sure, so genuine, so sweet. Hunter found it hard to keep up appearances as he let out a dramatic sigh as he snatched her skates from her and he leaned against the tree to start putting them on.

“Well, don’t think this means I’m gonna stop writing you up,” said Hunter as he carefully slipped off his shoes.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she smiled, gently rolling her eyes endearingly as she went to place his shoes in her bag. She fought back a grin when she noticed the red cartoon birds that decorated his socks, but she kept that to herself.

He watched him struggle with the laces for a moment, they were loose on his ankles but the edges were frayed and were hard to get through the holes on the very top. She leaned down to help him, and when their fingers touched briefly Hunter pulled his hands back like he had just touched lava. Willow said nothing, knowing how prideful he was as she felt his eyes on her as she wordlessly tightened his laces.

She couldn’t help but hope that he was speechless the way she had been the day she had fallen in the hallway. It was the usual game, she was teasing him beckoning him to chase her to give her the citation in person and she had been overzealous and lost her balance skating backwards. But he didn’t taunt her or laugh, but rather rushed to her side riddled with concern. She remembered how there were no words in her head as she watched him drop the cold persona that she had long suspected was an act to lecture her on safety, not because it was a rule or because he wanted to say “I told you so” but because he cared about her.

Willow suspected he wasn’t used to someone caring about him the same way.

“I know you’re just doing this so you can tell everyone how uncoordinated I am,” he muttered after a minute, not knowing how to maneuver the silence. He didn’t really believe Willow would be so ruthless, he was just embarrassed that he needed saving.

“What?” said Willow, genuinely surprised by his harsh tone. It wasn’t his usual harsh tone, it had a twinge of hurt beneath it.

“Well, why else would you be so nice to me?” He asked as she finished the bow. “No one likes me.”

Willow giggled.

“What?” asked Hunter, not used to being laughed at in a way that didn’t feel condescending.

“Boscha’s always saying I’m no one,” she said, rising to her feet. “So maybe I’m the perfect person to like you.”

“Don’t say that!” He said sternly, as he quickly stood up as well, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “You’re not no one.”

He said it with such conviction and anger, as though the idea of her believing she was any less than she was inspired a fury in him unmatched by any uniform infraction or social injustice. He didn’t need to add “because” or “to me” because he felt it was so obvious. She was too vibrant and kind and strong to be no one.

As she searched her mind for a response, she saw Hunter begin to lose his balance and quickly leaned forward to catch him.

“I’m guessing you’re not much of a skater?” she asked lightly, not knowing what else to say.

“I uh don’t have much time for leisure or recreational activities,” he said, clearing his throat as he was overly aware of her hands on him, one on his back and the other gently on his chest. It was difficult to remain professional in such a stance, but if anyone could try it was him.

“Well, consider this a crash course,” she teased.

“What?”

“Oh no, sorry,” she laughed nervously. “We’re not gonna crash. Well, probably not. Well… we’re gonna try.”

“Oh this is a bad idea,” said Hunter, his legs shaking.

“Hey, don’t worry,” she said, helping him regain his balance until he stood by himself. She held out her hand to him and gave him a sweet smile. “I won’t let you fall.”

He carefully took it and allowed her to lead him.

She did not seem opposed in the slightest to be holding his hand, to be seen holding his hand. He mainly focused on keeping his skates facing forward and not knocking into each other, but Willow had a natural balance. He knew it came from practice, that if he wasn’t here holding her back she’d be doing elaborate spins and jumps, but still he felt safe beside her. If he wasn’t in a rush, he felt like he could do this forever.

He just wished he had a helmet.

As they descended down the bumpy street, there was so much for Hunter to be nervous about: falling on his face, being late to his presentation, showing up to his predation with a face that had clearly been fallen on, but the most pressing matter at the moment was whether or not the stunning girl holding his hand could feel how sweaty it was. His heart was racing but not from the cardio. It was a good thing Willow knew where they were going because his eyes certainly were not on the path ahead of them.

This was the longest silence that had ever passed between them, Willow wasn’t sure what to make of it. She had seen Hunter concerned before, but these nerves were new. She tried to lighten the mood.

“These are your fault, you know.” She said, adopting her normal tone as seen in their hallway encounters.

“What?”

“My rollerskates.”

“What? Me? How? I never-.”

“Do you remember my most common infraction before you were always hounding me about my skates?”

“Tardiness,” he said without hesitation.

She smiled, wondering if he remembered everyone’s violations so quickly. “Yeah, I was always running late because Bocha needed to make sure she tormented me before first period.”

“Ms. Park, I assure you if I had known that was the reason I would’ve handled the situation with more-.”

“I know,” she said simply. “But still, you said something once that gave me an idea. I didn’t tell you that Boscha was the reason, I just said I kept getting lost and you said ‘well then, find another way.’ So I did.”

“You heard that and got ‘rollerskate everywhere?’”

“Okay, I might’ve put my own spin on it,” she giggled as they turned a corner, and she felt his grip tighten . “But it worked, didn’t it? I haven’t been late since.”

“Yes but roller skates are still against school safety and dress codes,” Hunter pointed out.

“But they get me there,” she said simply. “And they got me off Boscha’s radar and onto yours.”

He looked at her with wide, worried eyes. “Miss Park, I hope you’re not suggesting that I am on a level with Boscha,” he said seriously and another smile tugged at Willow’s lips as she couldn’t help but notice the disgusted way he said Boscha’s name. How he didn’t even bother to grace her with formality. “I know I may be strict, but I hope you know I would never want to make you feel how she makes you feel. I know she used to sit on the council, but If I ever-.”

“No, no nothing like that,” she laughed. “It’s just, I much prefer being on your radar is all I mean.”

“Oh.” Was all he could say. It still didn’t add up, she liked being in trouble? “Huh.”

Willow saw and understood his confusion. “You’re really into your position on the student council,” she said as though he was unaware. “Sometimes it feels like breaking the rules is the only way I get to talk to you.”

Did she know how every morning he held his breath, worried today was the day she changed her ways? That he wouldn’t feel her breeze as she zoomed by him in the hall, her braids coming undone as she maneuvered through other students like a maze? She had never injured anyone (besides herself) and she technically wasn’t running and hadn’t damaged any school property, but Hunter had scoured the handbook for something to say about it. Because he just wanted an excuse to talk to her.

“And you… like talking to… me?” He asked.

“Yeah,” she said simply. No hesitation, no eye rolling, no sarcasm. How could that be true? “Ya know, you’re not as uptight as you want everyone to believe you are. I think you’re secretly a big sweetheart.”

“Me?” He scoffed, he had certainly never been called that before. Not even ironically. “How am I sweet? I write you up every day!”

His voice shook as they quickly moved to avoid a pot hole but Willow never let go of his hand.

“Well, yeah but,” Willow couldn’t help but laugh. “I mean, you make a big show of writing me up and threatening me with detention but you never actually follow through.”

“What? I-I have! I mean, I must have at least once er-”

“No,” she said, shaking her head, “You always say you could but you never do.”

“Well, t-that’s because it goes straight on your permanent record.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, obviously unconvinced. She was pretty sure those didn’t even exist. She also knew it wasn’t because he didn’t have the power to, because he sent Boscha to detention literally all the time.

She had her theories, but right now probably wasn’t the right time to voice them.

“I… well, the thing is I…” he offered her a soft look as he tried to find the words. Something in his eyes made her think maybe he was about to confirm her theories. “I think I actually might…”

But before he could finish, the hill became too steep and Hunter promptly lost his balance. He unwillingly surrendered Willow’s hand as his arms flailed to his sides trying to save him from tumbling forward. Willow rolled beside him, keeping her eyes on him as she tried to grab his hand again. When she realized she couldn’t, she improvised and reached out to grab in an embrace, trapping his arms at his side as she clung to him tightly. They continued to skate down the hill at increasing speed as Willow tried to ease gently into the breaks so they wouldn’t go flying.

Finally, they reached flat land and when they did Hunter arrived deeper in Willow’s embrace, his cheek pressed firmly against hers as she shut her eyes, focused on keeping them safe. All he could focus on was how close they were. She lifted him off the ground, not knowing her own strength and all he could do was just be lifted by her.

Their faces were touching, oh Titan their faces were touching!

He swore he wasn’t breathing, he swore time stood still as he floated in some parking lot being held tightly by Willow Park. He could smell the sweet scent of her shampoo, a collection of jasmine and mango.

“You okay?” She asked, opening one eye to make sure no damage had come to him.

“Never better.” He squeaked. He wondered if he even weighed anything to her.

“We made it,” she declared gleefully, and he was so close he could feel the smile on her face. He was so lost in the euphoria of being so close to her he had totally forgotten the reason for it. Then his eyes registered where they were.

And in record time too.

“We made it,” he breathed as she set him down. How had he ever doubted her?

“Not quite yet,” she said as she took his hand and led him once again. “C’mon!”

They slid through the side entrance and something about it made Hunter feel oddly… giddy. Willow sped ahead of him like a bullet, her brow furrowed in determination as she raced against the clock.

“Move aside!” She announced to a few lingering students walking through the halls. “Precious cargo, coming though!”

He laughed, in spite of himself, feeling like he was in a dream. Being with her in the hall now instead of against her felt… right. This was how she saw the world: fast, exciting, scary. Normally he was just a mere star she passed by, close for only a brief moment before her orbit spun her elsewhere. But now he was fully caught in her gravity, hoping to be a moon, a sun, a comet; anything that followed her closely. Anything she’d let him be.

All too soon, they were outside the classroom where Hunter was to give his presentation. Willow could see they were still setting up and Hunter would get his chance to do his presentation.

“We did it!” She declared victoriously, wiping the sweat from her brow. “We did-.” She looked up at him in excitement but was taken back when he didn’t share her elatement. Instead, his focus was on her. He was looking at her like she was some precious jewel he had been searching for his whole life. “What’s wrong? Do I have something on my face or-.?”

“You’re amazing,” he said like the phrase took all the air in his lungs.

She gave a tiny chuckle as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. It wasn’t what she had been expecting to hear but she certainly wasn’t complaining.

“Well hey, don’t waste all your charm on me, student council,” she teased. “Getting here was the easy part, you still have a speech to give.”

“Right,” he said with a rare smile. Willow wondered why he didn’t smile more, he had such a pretty smile. “Anyway, thanks for all your help. I… really appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” she said, and Hunter swore a rosey halo surrounded her. As he was admiring just how picturesque she was, a mischievous smile crept onto her face, as she allowed her wheels to bring her closer to him. “Um, excuse me, student council member Wittebane, but wearing roller skates in the hallway is against school policy, in case you weren’t aware.”

He offered her a shy, playful smile, running his hand through his hair as he leaned against the lockers, absentmindedly sending a chill up Willow’s spine. She caught him off guard and for a moment he was a little silly. Like he felt safe enough to be.

“Well, I guess I have to make an exemption today,” he said, his voice possessing a lighter tone that Willow was certain few people had ever heard. She liked it. She watched him quickly sink to the ground as he began to undo the laces on the skates as she handed him his shoes from her bag.

“Tomorrow morning though, no roller skating in the hallways,” he said, mocking himself as he wagged his finger at her. They both knew she wouldn't listen.

“But what if I’m running late?” She said innocently as she helped him back onto his feet once he had returned to his shiny dress shoes. “I have classes on opposite sides of the school, how else am I supposed to get there in time?”

“Well uh, I’m sure I could assist somehow,” he said, clearing his throat. He owed her one after all. “I could get you a special hall pass or help you plan a route or-.”

“Maybe you should start walking me to class,” she suggested.

“As punishment?”

She shrugged. “If you wanna call it that,” she said, brushing some invisible lint off of his shoulder. “Here, lemme fix your tie. Can’t have you beating my record for dress code violations, now can we?” She made sure he didn’t reflect the journey too much, adjusting his pin as well. Even after all that, he still managed to look so pristine. Maybe it was his posture, or his height, or the sharp definition of his jawline but his demeanor just seemed like it was permanently studious. Like he had a shell that extended to his heart. Like the cracks in his composure could only be seen up close and Willow wanted more than anything to have them memorized. Willow had caught glimpses of these cracks before, when she made a joke that caught him off guard and summoned a smile or dared him to joke back before following up with policy and procedure. These cracks didn’t make him foolish or fragile as she knew he worried they did, no: they made him shine.

The classroom was becoming louder as Amity tried to gain control so they could start and Hunter knew they’d be starting soon. But all he wanted to do was watch her fuss over his tie like she just wanted an excuse to be close to him.

“Willow, I-,” he started and her eyes instantly darted up to him. He then realized that that may have been the first time he had used her first name. He said it so gently, like he was worried he wasn’t worthy of it. She looked at him with wide eyes, like she hoped he’d say it again.

“Yeah?”

“I uh… I guess better head inside,” Hunter said, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice. Both because he didn’t want to leave and because that wasn’t what he wanted to say.

“Guess you’d better,” she echoed, though she did not release him.

“But thank you again,” he said. “For helping me, for getting me here. No one’s ever done something like that for me before.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I have plenty of experience with being a no one, huh?” She said coyly. She knew he was about to protest, but before he had the chance to, she rose up and slyly pressed a quick kiss to his check. “Good luck, Mr. Student Council,” she whispered with a playful wink, doing one more small spin before skating away, leaving him stunned by the lockers.

She knew she had left a faint lipstick mark on his face, and from the corner of her eyes she noticed that he could not bring himself to wipe it off before finally heading inside.

Must not be a dress code violation, she thought to herself. Good to know.