#even if you can’t purchase or aren’t interested in purchasing

[alchemocha]

Emergency Summer Sale Commissions ‼️

My wife and I need some necessities and medical treatments and funds are tight while job searching. So I’m opening up a comm sale to raise some money! Donations are also accepted if you wish to help.

~Prices~

Sketch: 10$ USD

Colour: 20$ USD

Will do: Basically anything (within reason), so long as I am provided references.

Payment: Through PayPal or Ko-fi. DM’s are open for inquiries!

[fairestwriting]

Azul, Ruggie, and Lilia seeing their crush sleeping with a plush that looks like them! (An octopus plush, hyena doll, and a bat!)

𐙚 Azul Ashengrotto

When he tries to think of a sea creature that could make for a good design for a plush toy, octopi definitely aren’t the first to come to mind. It’s not like he’s never seen an octopus plush before. He just can’t bring himself to think they look cute and cuddly enough, they read more like a marketing mistake to him— or that’s what he would want others to believe, at least.

He actually has a bit of a soft spot for plush toys. They’re not much of a thing back home, where fabric usage is restricted only to things that can survive the harshness of the salt water. The plushies he’s seen for sale there aren’t as cute looking as the ones he’s seen on land, he’s firmly decided, then kept it to himself because the thought of having opinions on “children’s toys” at his age feels too embarrassing.

Azul maybe had a passing thought about you owning an octopus plush before, but dismissed it as him being kind of desperate. After all, even landmade octopus plushes aren’t really that cute, are they… you’d probably prefer something that’s easier to hold. And that’s if you even like that kind of stuff at all— He honestly thinks of you so highly sometimes, the idea of you owning plush toys feels unrealistic. Even if that thought itself doesn’t make that much sense.

You maybe had invited him over to study, the day he walks in and sees you with that plush, and it almost made him trip on nothing when he did. ”Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d be asleep! Would you prefer I come back some other time?” He says in a flustered rush, it’s really a trial for him to get his thoughts back together if you, on top of everything else, ask him to stay. Inside his mind, the scene is crystallized like a crucial memory, and he feels flustered all over again when he comes back to it. If you two did study that day, he didn’t memorize a single word.

𐙚 Ruggie Bucchi

He’s seen little plush hyenas on storefronts back home, there’s been periods where they were trendy in his neighborhood too. Maybe he’s even mended one of the toys before, or purchased one or two to give out as a gift. They’re all far from being high quality, probably even a little wonky looking, he never thought too much about them.

If you ever expressed an interest in plushies, he’s definitely made you a little something as a gift. Maybe a plush keychain, since sewing a doll by hand would require an amount of time he sadly doesn’t have. It may have been a hyena or not, when doing this his first thought is to go for whatever your favorite animal is, and hyenas aren’t exactly the most popular, right? The association of the gift with himself doesn’t really come to mind at first.

Then, one day, he comes over to your dorm room to check up on you — it’s just a thing he likes doing from time to time — and he sees you asleep with the plushie in your arms. Ruggie’s heart melts, it immediately reminds him of home, he can’t resist taking a sneaky picture to keep to himself. “Shishi, I didn’t know you missed me so much while I was busy”, he lovingly teases you when you wake up. He’ll be curious about where you got it, wanting to know more about the “little guy”, as he calls it.

The whole thing makes him feel really proud of himself. He takes a little break to hang out with you and just relax for a moment, so you ”don’t have to feel lonely” when he leaves for his Lounge shift. One day, you come back to your bedroom to find out that a yellow bandana was tied around your doll’s neck, a tiny, embroidered thing made to look like the one Ruggie wears with his dorm uniform.

𐙚 Lilia Vanrouge

There’s no surprises here, because he 100% bought the plushie and gifted it to you himself. You couldn’t possibly beat him to it when he’s so often thinking about how endearing you are doing this or that. He walked by the store, the idea popped up in his mind, and so he executed his plan. It was only a matter of time until he would get to see you being cute with it.

Lilia’s very straightforward about it. “I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be too sad whenever I’m away,” He tells you when he hands over the gift, smiling wide. The plushie has an oddly really specific look, being bigger than what you’d imagine for a bat, with bead eyes that were almost the exact same color as his own. He may or may not have had it slightly altered. He was really a man on a mission with this one.

He already seems to linger around your dorm way too often, straight up inviting himself is a line he won’t cross, but he sure manages to find a lot of excuses to be around. Since giving you the plushie, it gets even more frequent. You hear lots of cheeky excuses, things about how he decided to try out Malleus’ exploration hobby, or supposed dorm vice leader duties that definitely don't exist. And he knows you don’t believe any of it too, he’s just being coy. It’s basically just one of the many ways he flirts with you.

When he shows up, Lilia tiptoes the line between your nightly free time and the moment you go to bed. He knows he could probably just watch you from outside the window, but where’s the fun in that? He wants to actually be allowed to get as close as he can, instead of just staring at a distant image through a glass pan. The night he finally sees it, he can’t stop smiling to himself. How silly, for an old man like him to get so giddy over something so small, he thinks while he giggles. You wake up to a single, slightly cryptic feeling text saying he’s happy you enjoyed his gift so much.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[getindumdums]

Ok. I think it’s time we talked. About Uranium.

You see I actually know a thing or two about it. I love science. And the idea that rottmnt Donatello, can’t get any. Well… you can BUT it. And get more for your buck than you may assume. And it isn’t as dangerous as you think! (I’m not mad, I swear!) But! It IS a great, powerful source of energy.

Uranium comes in rock, and powder, yes powder. Uranium glassware that glows if you’re feeling fancy.

So we need to ask. Can Rise Donnie convert it, the price, and can he get enough of it?

First. Donnie is primarily an engineer. Plus he has a love for botany. BUT! He has stated “Geology stinks”. It’s a boring science to him. And we neurodiverse folks can’t focus on and forget things we aren’t interested in. So? He’s SMART! Surely he could get past this hurdle for something he’s clearly passionate about right?

What’s more, conversion is chemistry. Well we don’t see him so much of chemistry either. But! It is implied with the deleted episode where he was submitting a giant pumpkin into a contest, that he modified it. And THAT’S chemistry. So we’ll file this into “very likely”. Even if there was a LARGE chance it was gonna grow a mouth and attack everyone…

So. The price. US citizens are only allowed to legally purchase up to 3.3 pounds of uranium, and have a limited amount they can own. But for a low $50-100! You TOO! Can get a box of rocks!

Perhaps this is a main reason why he started his secret Stark tech company, WITH an apparel line! Considering he was counting a heap of cash. I think he was doing well off it. (Though perhaps he was struggling with it after Shredder wrecked the lab.) Plus with SHELLDON shown stealing from ATMs apparently being a thing. I don’t think money is an issue.

(Though considering he “didn’t have money” to give to Mantis, he could a. Been hiding his money so his bros wouldn’t find out/also not give a villain money. B. His company isn’t accessible to the public (yet?) and he actually stole it from an ATM or something.)

So. Can he get enough for what he needs? He probably needs a lot of it right?

The thing is. Uranium is abundant. REALLY abundant. You can mine for it yourself. So, surely a “reasonable” demand to ask for!

But perhaps this is why he spent so much time, and effort on a giant … drill.

So I can only conclude that: Donnie is banned from uranium by his family. “It’s not as dangerous as you think!” He shouts. But woe is the mad scientist with questionable intentions!

(Imagine him begging Leo to use his sword to teleport him to a mine. Pfft!)

And so, he’s been slowly, slowly, collecting uranium samples. Has him hidden away. Changing his information every time to hide his intentions from the FBI and government. While developing ways on mining it himself.

There’s literally no excuse for Donnie not to get his hands on uranium. It’s not a matter of IF. Just WHEN. He will get his hands on uranium.

So WHAT. Is his first use for this? Perhaps… a titanium Ironman suit fueled by a miniature nuclear reactor!

[ceilidho]

prompt: IKEA soap/reader fic. PART 2. (read part 1 here) tags: dubcon

-

There’s a photo of you taped up on the inside of his locker. 

The glimpse you catch of it is quick. Not like you aren’t meant to see it, but more like Johnny’s so unconcerned with whether you see it or not that he doesn’t bother to make a show of it. Just reaches into his locker to grab his lunch and shuts it while you’re still gaping at the polaroid of someone that looks suspiciously like you in your store uniform. You hear someone clear their throat and you glance up, flinching when you meet Johnny’s eyes.

“Missing me already?” he teases, winking. “I’ll be back on the floor as soon as possible. ‘Promise, hen.”

“It’s not—” 

He’s already out the door and on the way to the lunchroom before you’re able to get the rest of your sentence out. 

Johnny seems to have a sixth sense for when you’re about to spurn his advances. Any other day he would have stuck around to listen to the rest of your sentence, but when he has an inkling that those words will be tinged by the flavour of rejection, he’s quick to book it. You privately have to admit it’s not a terrible strategy. It’s not often that you’re able to get the words out. 

It’s one of those rare shifts where you’re clocking in later than Johnny, missing his lunch break. Small mercies. It doesn’t mean much because your schedules still overlap a significant amount, but it does mean that you won’t be forced to choke down your lunch while Johnny sits opposite you at the lunch table and stares you down the entire half hour. 

“Wait, that was so fucking cute,” someone says from behind you. You turn on your heel to find a coworker staring at Johnny’s locker, properly enchanted by whatever she saw. Practically swooning. 

“What is?”

“Didn’t you see the picture he has of you? In his locker?” She says it with emphasis, giving you a significant look. 

“Yeah…I…don’t you think it’s a bit…like, weird?” you ask her, making sure to keep your voice low in case Johnny is still around the corner. You can’t help the way you glance down the hallway.

She frowns. “It’s cute. He’s like, smitten with you. I’ve never seen him with a crush on anyone before and I’ve worked with him for over a year. I think it’s kind of nice. Do you not like him or something?”

“Well, I just…we aren’t even dating and I think…I think he even has a photo of me as his lock screen—”

“Because if you aren’t interested in him, you should let him down now. It’s not fair of you to just string him along, you know. He’s a really good guy.”

You’re not sure about the whole good guy thing. Johnny acts like a nice guy most of the time, but you’ve had the unfortunate luck in getting to experience the other side of him.

The problem lies in the fact that Johnny is, you think, a genuinely likeable guy to everyone else. It’s not like your coworkers are all collectively wrong in their opinion of him���he really is an excellent coworker. A good sport, a funny guy; he lends a hand whenever someone needs help. He helped Jeff move two weeks ago, drove Daryl to the airport last Saturday, and looked after Sonya’s cat while she was away on vacation that one time. 

It’s with you that his good-time nature evaporates; his lazy, drawled predilection for joking around and indulging himself and others in a good ribbing replaced by a weird, manufactured kindness. Almost sickly sweet. He lays it on so thick around others that they think you experience the same friendship with Johnny that the rest of them get to enjoy. 

Not so.

None of them catch the way he’s always hovering, always staring at you. Eyes half-lidded; bedroom eyes in the middle of your shift, in the middle of the workplace. 

None of your coworkers are around when you’re at the register one day and Johnny takes his break to make a couple purchases, coming to your cash with a basket full of chocolate, wine, condoms, body butter, and batteries. No one except him notices the way you pause at the last item.

“Dinnae ken if your vibrator was rechargeable or not,” he says when you look at him funny, a big grin stretched across his face. Blue eyes gleaming almost feverishly. “Thought I’d be prepared either way.”

You scan his items in silence. When you hand him his bag, you try not to shudder when he purposefully glances his hand over yours. 

Worse are the days when Johnny comes in as a customer, the days when he’s off the schedule. When he shouldn’t even be at the store at all. No one notices the way he pesters you the entire time he’s in the store, insisting on you helping him with his purchases. If a coworker does happen to notice his presence (and how could they not when he’s such a formidable presence in any room, when he almost glows from the energy stockpiled in his body with nowhere else to go), he’ll make polite conversation, just long enough to not seem rude, before shifting his attention back to you. 

His conversation borders on interrogation. He asks you about your childhood and your friends and whether you have a partner or any previous partners. He makes you follow him to the bed section where he tries out all the mattresses and then asks you increasingly inappropriate questions like what mattress you have, what it feels like, how you sleep at night, what you wear to bed. 

When you rebuff him one too many times, he’s not shy about telling you off. 

“Ye just need a good fuck ta sort ye out,” Johnny snarls when you brush off another invite out to lunch one day. It’s not often that he loses his temper with you, so his anger makes your eyes widen, your pulse pick up. During morning shift assignments, he’d corralled your manager into pairing the two of you up on curbside pick-up orders, meaning that you’ve been stuck with him for hours, nowhere else to go. 

“Excuse me?” you say, voice going up a decibel. 

He leans across the front of the cart loaded with flowerpots and gardening tools. “I get it, hen. No one at home ta play with your pussy, huh? No choice but ta come into work all pent up and frustrated—”

“This is in like, the outer Hebrides of ‘none of your business’—”

“—clit’s probably all swollen too. Fuck.” He breathes out heavily through his nose, eyes darkening. “No wonder you’re always pissed off. I’d be too if I dinnae have a little replacement pussy at home.”

“You’re the reason I’m upset in the first place, Johnny.”

“Aw, I ken, bonnie,” he says with a pout, eyebrows slanting down like he really, truly pities you, the gesture immediately contradicted by his next words. “Promise I’ll make it better. Wanna meet outside my truck in a half hour?” 

You storm off before it comes to blows. Not that it’d ever be a fair fight. Johnny would probably hold you away with his palm against your head while you swung at him uselessly. You try not to think of that too often. Of him toying with you. Most of your interactions feel like that these days. Like he’s a big cat holding your tail down when you try to scramble away. 

When you beg your manager to switch shift assignments, the look you get could wilt flowers. It’s not completely your fault, even if your request is a bit inconveniencing. Johnny has your coworkers and management so wrapped around his finger that no one can even hazard a guess as to why you might be uncomfortable around him. 

It’s the only reason you haven’t complained to HR yet. There are channels and protocols for dealing with his behaviour, but watching people practically trip over themselves to please him reminds you that the likeliest outcome would be them transferring you to another store. It just doesn’t seem worth it.

You don’t think about how frazzled his words leave you for the rest of your shift. You don’t think about it because there’s nothing to think about. 

You know from the second that your manager reassigns you to women’s apparel that you’ve probably made a mistake. Customers buzz around you like gnats, like swarms of flies, and it’s only natural that you’d be compelled to swat a few. You hold on to the fraying edges of your patience with little finesse. About halfway through your shift, you get a stern talking to from your floor supervisor and put on an extra long break. You’re no less irritated when you get back though, somehow still agitated and snappy. 

Big hands clamp over your shoulders and squeeze like he’s giving you a massage, thumbs digging into the grooves of your upper back. He ignores the way you tense up.

“Hen, you’re making the customers uncomfortable with all your huffin’ and puffin’,” he whispers into your ear, a light chuckle falling out with his words. Amused by your attitude this time instead of ticked off. “If ye want, I could take ye ta the back room ta loosen ye up a bit. Make your day a little better. Dinnae think anybody will even notice if we dip away for a bit—’sides management will probably send me a gift basket if ye come back perky after a good shag.”

You shrug him off to go clock out, ignoring the way he chuckles as you storm off. No one knows if you go home and wear out the battery in your vibrator while thinking about Johnny’s words. Thinking about Johnny guiding you to his truck with a palm flat on your low back, pinkie teasing just under the waistband of your pants, before laying you out across the backseat and climbing on top of you.

You come when you think about how he’d have to keep the door open to fuck you in his car.

Unfortunately, you’re more than familiar with his sweet side as well. 

On your birthday, he comes in early with a sheet cake and organizes the employees so that the breakroom is dark when you come in. The entire staff is there when you switch on the lights, shouting your name and happy birthday, decked out in party hats and blowing into noisemakers.

It catches you off guard. Hits you right in the solar plexus and leaves you winded. You stand in the middle of the room like you’re under a spotlight and that spotlight is Johnny’s stare burning a hole in your head. For once, it doesn’t rankle. It leaves you feeling light, feathery, like floating down to earth. A coworker hands you a noisemaker and you smile until your eyes crinkle when you blow into it. 

You’re in a good enough mood that you don’t argue when he insists on sitting beside you. He got you the cake after all. Maybe it’s the least he deserves. Your goodwill lasts until Johnny tries to feed you a piece of cake with his fork; he winds up getting cake smushed all over your cheek when you turn your head away. 

“Johnny, ‘m not a baby,” you complain, wrinkling your nose when cake and icing slide down your face. “I can feed myself. This is so gross.”

“Shucks, hen, lemme get that. Shouldnae have turned your head,” Johnny curses, leaning over to scoop it off with his fingers. He holds them out to you, an offering. “Here ye go, kitty.”

You stare, horrified, until he shrugs like ‘suit yourself’ and pops them into his own mouth. Then drags the same spit covered fingers over your cheek again to keep cleaning you up. 

You can tell that it’s hopeless to complain by the way your coworkers giggle and gossip, eyes drawn to the two of you. Maybe it would be better if you were transferred. You only have so many ‘I’m not his work wife’s left in you. Something’s bound to give. You have a sneaking suspicion that it’s going to be you. 

On the walk to your car after your shift, which Johnny insists on doing like he does every time the two of you work a closing shift together, he jokingly asks if you’ve gotten your birthday spanks. He says it in that same awkward joking tone, just a bit too excited, staring at you too eagerly. Unblinking. Tuts his tongue when you tell him you’ve never heard of that before. 

You jolt and squeak at the pop on your ass when he insists on opening the door to your car and helping you in. The betrayed look you shoot him hardly penetrates through his shit-eating grin. 

“See ye tomorrow, kitty,” Johnny calls out, walking backwards away from you to where his truck is parked just a few spots away from yours. You think he would’ve parked right next to you if you hadn’t chosen a spot conveniently between two other cars. “More where that came from.”

Your hands shake against the steering wheel your whole drive home. Dreading tomorrow’s shift.

[phoenixyfriend]

Accountant of Theed

Read on AO3

After all is said and done, someone needs to balance these books, and nobody actually told the accounting department how they paid for this new hyperdrive. Mimi really hopes it's not a loan from the Hutts.

Disclaimer: I am not an accountant, but I work in an adjacent field (and have been considering getting a certification, but that's neither here nor there). While I did take some courses on it, I asked an Accounting Person to look over the excel sheet before I went forward with the rest of the fic to make sure it's internally consistent. Thank you to @gnomer-denois for confirming my balance on these works!

The reconciliation sheet does NOT follow contemporary guidelines in terms of format etc, but that is because it is:

In space! Standard practice differs from Modern United States or what have you.

Not the primary balance sheet, just the simplified version made to show to Queen Amidala.

If you'd prefer to view the Excel sheet in a more easily navigable form, there is a google drive link available. This is also your best option if using a screen reader.

-----------------------------------------

Theed is safe. They are rebuilding. There is even financial support, aid, from the Republic.

It comes with strings attached. Oversight. Auditors.

Wouldn’t want Naboo to misuse funding after that nasty mistake with the Trade Federation, right? Sure, Naboo wasn’t the one at fault, but one can never be too careful...

Mimi, as an accountant for the government of Naboo, does not in fact want to commit fraud, or enable corruption, but the rolling audits do feel a little like the Republic is punishing them for getting invaded.

“Hey, boss?”

That tone. Mimi does not like that tone. “Please tell me it’s not another unauthorized purchase with a missing receipt. Which account did they pull from this time?”

“Um... we don’t know?”

Mimi gives them a moment. No elaboration is given.

“You don’t know?”

“We don’t know,” the younger employee repeats.

“What do you mean?” Mimi asks. “People charge things to accounts or cards. They forget to submit receipts. We hunt them down for receipts, and make sure nobody is skimming off the top. That’s how it goes. Unless this is a purchase on a personal and we need to reimburse—”

“Um, maybe?”

“In which—what? That’s just... okay. There’s a process for reimbursements. You aren’t following it, which means... what? What do you mean, you don’t know? Did they use cash, or pull from an account?”

The younger employee looks down at their datapad. Looks back up at her. Looks baffled and a little scared. “Um, it’s... we still don’t have a receipt, but we also don’t know where the money for it came from? But nobody’s put in a reimbursement request and I can’t imagine anyone on the mission had those funds on them, not even the Queen herself.”

“The money for what?”

“Um. It sort of just... showed up?”

“So, it’s some kind of gift?” Mimi presses.

“Too big,” the younger mumbles, refusing to meet her eyes. “It would have to be disclosed.”

“I am giving you five seconds—”

“It’s a hyperdrive!” they yelp.

“...Explain.”

“One of the mechanics was looking over the Royal Cruiser, and found that there was unrecorded repair work to the hyperdrive. The ship took enough damage during the escape that he wasn’t surprised, but then he noticed that it was from an earlier run of the part, and when he checked, the serial number was completely wrong. The hyperdrive was completely replaced.”

Mimi closes her eyes and takes a breath. “The mechanic doesn’t know?”

“He said there’s nothing in the records that matches it at all, and it’s a big enough part that there’s no way it would just slip through the cracks, not when it’s that expensive and going on the Royal Cruiser.”

“So,” Mimi says, “we have a part worth almost as much as the rest of the cruiser combined, that just... came out of nowhere, and nobody claiming for reimbursement.”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s what it looks like.”

Mimi has no interest in fraud.

“Find out who was piloting when Queen Amidala escaped, and see if they have any answers,” Mimi tells them. “If we can keep it to just the hangar staff without drawing in the Royal Retinue, it’ll be easier on all of us.”

“Here’s hoping, ma’am.”

(Continue on AO3)

[houserautha]

These Destined Ends

Part 2

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: he steps on your hand, non-consensual kissing, slapping

A/N: In which you try to stand your ground against Feyd and it just makes him horny

Palpable tension fills the room. You notice, not happily, the heavy presence of guards. As pale and unmoving as the walls, you wouldn’t have recognized them if not for the subtle hand signals from your mother. Jessica’s fingers twitched in the ancient Atreides language.

Stay on guard, she warns you. You don’t even have to look at her to know what she’s saying — you learned the secretive hand signals before you could even speak. Even just a quick flash of her fingers in your peripheral and you understand.

Will this day end in bloodshed?

The thought rags at you.

“Welcome,” the Baron finally bellows, voice thick and rasping as sand over the dunes of Arrakis. “It is truly an honor to receive you here today.”

Leto nods, ever the diplomat. You’re grateful for his lead and the prowess of his social navigational skills because, at the moment, you’re afraid that you won’t be able to speak. Not in the face of your destiny and certainly not under the severe scrutiny of your betrothed.

The Baron beckons you and your family closer and you swear that you notice Feyd-Rautha lean forward in interest.

“I trust your journey from Arrakis was well,” the Baron says.

Your skin prickles at the mention.

“Certainly. It was a smooth ride. I’m sure you’re familiar, since you’ve taken it recently,” Leto replies coolly.

The Baron snaps, “And will again soon.”

An insurmountable current of hostility perpetuates the room, not visible but impossible to not to notice. The Baron claps his hands together, the sound resonating. “But we aren’t here to discuss space travel, are we? Lady Y/N, step forward so that we may see you.”

The slightest nod of approval from Jessica. Her hand brushes yours as you pass by her.

It’s unknown to you how far you should go but you take several large steps away from your parents until you’re completely vulnerable. You hope no one is able to perceive your nervousness, or the slick state of your palms. You keep them hidden in the folds of your dress.

“Mm, lovely enough,” the Baron remarks. His repulsive gaze travels your form. Not in the way that one might appraise a mate but rather a livestock for purchase. “Excellent hips for birthing.”

You bite your tongue to stifle your retort.

From the shifting of garments behind you, you know the comment has unsettled your parents as well. Your mother warned you that the situation was delicate, that the Harkonnens would wait for the slightest aggression to attack. You do your best to maintain a comprise of neutrality, the cool indifference your mother manages to exude.

“Still an Atreides,” Rabban growls, low enough only for you, the Baron, and na-Baron to hear.

The Baron ignores this. “Well, nephew, won’t you greet your betrothed?”

A small exhale escapes you.

Feyd-Rautha lopes from his position beside the dais to stand before you. His proximity is overwhelming, the sheer size and force of his presence eclipsing all else; his lips have not loosed from their taunting smirk, an infuriating expression you wish to rid him of.

“Hello, betrothed,” he says. His voice, too, rasps against your ears, cool and unbothered.

“Hello,” is all you manage.

In a move that startles you, Feyd-Rautha unsheathes a dagger from his armored uniform. It glints dangerously in the low lighting. Although you can’t see her you hear Jessica cry out in surprise, in objection, and the guards at the perimeter of the throne room coil with anticipation. However, you keep still.

Feyd-Rautha presses the tip of the dagger lightly into your neck, below your ear. His dark gaze flickers down the column of your throat, following the trail of the blade. It’s a strangely sensual act, intimate in ways that disturb you, the fragile balance of trust and power it commands. Feyd-Rautha stops at the dip of your throat, where your heart is beating wildly, directly above the Atreides clasp.

He clicks his tongue. “You won’t be needing this.”

The Harkonnen slices at your cape faster than you can ever react — the garment flutters from your shoulders to the ground. It’s then that you realize he’s cut away the clasp and effectively stripped you of your Atreides title.

The clasp bounces against the polished floor.

Compelled by shock, by pure reflex, you bend down to grab it. Feyd-Rautha’s boot closes down on your hand before you can retrieve the clasp, slamming your palm down over it as he traps your hand against the floor. You gasp in surprise, and pain, the pressure of his booted foot clearly more demonstrative than punishing. For now.

“I told you that you won’t be needing that,” he says, exasperatedly informal. “Stand up.”

Teeth gritting, you squirm beneath his boot, trying desperately to reclaim your hand. “No!” You shout at him. “It is rightfully mine.”

He presses his boot down harder. You squeal.

“You are rightfully mine. And you will do as I say. A wife with a broken hand is still capable of fulfilling her duties.”

Shame burns your face and couples with the disgust taking root in your chest. Feyd-Rautha regards you coolly from above. If you thought you would survive the attempt, you’d snap his leg.

“Fine,” you spit out.

His smooth brow raises. “What?”

“Fine.”

“Louder,” he orders. “I want them all to hear you. Forfeit your Atreides loyalty.”

In the few seconds that you take to consider this, he pushes his entire weight down on your hand. The pain steals away all rational thought as stars appear in your vision. Your breath saws painfully in and out of your lungs. It takes all of your strength to grit out, “I forfeit my Atreides loyalty.”

A bout of protest explodes from Leto and Jessica, and the sound of their disbelief cuts you deep. You collapse onto the ground, clutching your injured hand and watch in horror as Feyd-Rautha stomps on the clasp and shatters it.

Pieces go flying.

There’s a terrible joy in the Baron’s voice: “Enough, nephew. I believe you’ve made your point.”

“That was completely unnecessary —” Leto begins. He quiets as a trio of Harkonnen guards gather not towards him, but you, weapons and lasguns trained on your crumpled form.

A memory emerges from your subconscious, an afternoon in which Leto mentioned that having a child is like having a lasgun pressed to your temple at all times.

His throat bobs with suppressed emotion.

Your parents won’t try anything if it puts you in peril. Even Jessica’s control of The Voice is useless.

“Lady Y/N is now a member of the House Harkonnen. Her husband will do with her what he sees fit,” the Baron declares. “Nephew, have you had quite enough?”

Feyd-Rautha faces his uncle. “For now.”

You tremble beside him. A heady mix of pain and anger boils beneath your skin. The Harkonnen soldiers fall back as the Baron waves a massive hand.

“Take her to her chambers. I’ve had enough.”

You protest, “No! I need to say goodbye to my family!”

A sickening smile spreads on the Baron’s face, and he holds out his arms. “We’re your family now.”

You don’t even get a final glimpse of your parents as the soldiers hoist you to your feet and corner you off from them. The roughness of the guards jostles your injured hand. “Get off me,” you growl, yanking yourself free from their grasps.

The soldiers move to contain you once more but Feyd-Rautha rasps, “Listen to your future Baronness.” You gape at him. The faint hint of a smirk returns on his face, and he steps toward you. “I’ll escort her.”

Then he grabs your injured hand as a tether.

The doors to the throne room slam shut.

Feyd-Rautha’s grip on your hand is strong, undoubtedly a reminder of his control. It takes more than a few pulls to dispatch him and, once you do, he whirls on you with a curious, almost bewildered look.

You seethe, “What is wrong with you? How dare you destroy my family pin.”

“You cannot be my wife if you have loyalties elsewhere,” he says, as if the explanation is obvious. “Your loyalties are to me and the House Harkonnen.”

“I decided where my loyalties lay,” you tell him. “And they belong to no one but myself.”

Feyd-Rautha studies you, then huffs.

“I’m being serious,” you hiss.

“I know.” He steps casually toward you, though it’s anything but. Your body tenses. “So am I.”

An indescribable feeling crashes over you, sweeping you nearly off your feet. Everything you’ve heard about him vanishes. In a move that surprises even yourself, you advance on him, close enough to see the glint of glee in his dark eyes. He’s actually enjoying this.

“You have taken everything from me,” you sneer at him. “My home. My family. My name. My future.” You inhale shakily, fighting back a sob. “But you will not take away my allegiance.”

“Do you think that I wanted this?” Feyd-Rautha asks bitterly. “And don’t pretend as if you didn’t just forfeit that allegiance. To me. Have you already forgotten?” He touches your face, much to your chagrin. He crooks one finger under your chin and raises it. “Need I remind you?”

“You’re a monster.”

Feyd-Rautha’s handsome features arrange into what you can only describe as satisfaction. “Yes I am.”

You recoil as the Harkonnen then presses his lips to yours, holding your chin in place to keep you from shying away. It’s brief, almost perfunctory in nature. A passionless, predatory claim.

He pulls away, and the subsequent sound of your slap reverberates through the empty corridor.

Feyd-Rautha clenches his jaw. Your hand stings from the strike, and you hold it at your side in anticipation of a retaliating blow. He rolls his neck. An eternity passes before he turns his attention back to you, pale cheek still reddened by your hand. It pleases you to notice it.

“We’re even now. Wife.”

Feyd-Rautha snatches your hand, which until that moment the pain had been subdued by adrenaline. You wince. He kisses your already mottling knuckles, the sensitive skin of your wrist, never pulling his eyes from yours.

You refuse to react, to acknowledge the flicker of heat ignited low in your belly.

Feyd-Rautha drops your hand then and, as if nothing had happened, turns on his booted heel and starts down the opposite direction. “Come, wife. It’s time I show you our quarters.”

Part 3

Tags:

@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Winter Time with Xavier Head Canons

Note: I know the winter holidays are still a few weeks away, but as a winter girl I’m too excited to wait.

When it gets cold he sleeps in even more than usual.

Xavier sleeps more than any average human can, but it gets twice as bad in the winter. It’s like having a hibernating bear or, in this case, a bunny at home most of the time, as he snuggles in his special warm weighted blanket that he pulls out as soon as the first snowflakes fall outside.

You have little hope in waking him up during the cold mornings, not even for breakfast, and he gets extra clingy to you, slyly convincing you to lay back down just for a few more minutes. After all, aren’t you cold? Don’t you like the new blanket? Why not cuddle with him more?

It’s hard to argue with him, especially when he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer, gently cuddling against your shoulder until you admit it might be a good idea to warm up a little longer.

People watching becomes even more of a pastime.

Xavier has been a people watcher since the day you met him. He didn’t join festivities much but that never stopped him from taking in the sight of humanity around him, joyfully going through their day and making plans for the holidays.

You learn quickly to match his pace, taking more interest in the world around you as you go about your daily errands hand in hand. He thinks it’s the cutest when you always stop at the sight of some holiday knick-knack or join in on building snowmen. He insists on stopping and joining in. Or, he wants to suddenly go into the store and look around. Or, maybe stop and take pictures in front of the fountain or a cute display.

“There’s still time to finish our errands; it won’t hurt to take a detour.”

If you agree, you return home much later than you thought, barely most of your errands complete and with way more items than Xavier thought you would find. He regrets it a little because his arms get sore carrying all your purchases.

If you disagree, you’ll find the cute fuzzy ornament you spotted in the store window earlier perched happily on your dresser.

Matching clothes and hot chocolate.

Nothing is better for the two of you than a relaxing day at home. You spend many days relaxing on the couch, watching the latest holiday romances and off-season horror movies.

Your evening is always complimented by snacks and a mug of hot chocolate decorated with marshmallows and cream, sticky syrup, and whatever other concoction the two of you could make up in the kitchen that will undoubtedly leave you regretting your decisions when you’re too hyped up to sleep (which means Xavier can’t sleep either unless you end up poking his face and waking him up all night).

The cold air seeping in from the windows and balcony is fended off by the matching pair of fuzzy socks on your feet.

Warm soups and hot pots.

Winter brings the excuse to eat more, specifically fresh hot food and hot pot. You can constantly find your lover sampling the treats and seasonal food that the holidays bring, always sharing baked sweet potatoes and coffee with you from pumpkin to peppermint mocha and gingerbread.

He gets the urge to bake things himself, so the kitchen becomes a war zone, but you both manage to make something you can share.

Festival Time

You take the time to celebrate the holidays with him, starting with cleaning the house long before winter begins. You bring the plants inside and buy/knit something cozy for your feathered friends on the balcony to rest in for the winter.

You make dumplings to celebrate and during that time you discover that the denizens of Philos still celebrate the holiday, with the added feature of adding star-shaped lights for their ancestors. It takes no time to set up fairy lights throughout the house after that.

The final trip is enjoying Christmas. The two of you go out on a cozy date before going through the market that usually pops up on the road back to the apartment complex.

You make one final trip through the festivities to visit the shrine and place your wishes for next year. You don’t have anything you want other than being able to spend another year with Xavier and welcome Spring together.

[calliesmemes]

EVEN MORE ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED COMEDIC RELIEF

ASSORTED SENTENCE STARTERS FROM AROUND THE INTERNET, including quotes from Tumblr, Pinterest, TikTok, and X (formerly known as Twitter), for when a muse wants to lighten up the situation at hand.

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“   It’s sea shanty time once again my fellow bastards of the ocean! ”

“   Partner, I reckon that I ain’t been feeling very yeehaw lately. ”

“   I don’t study; I consult the lore. ”

“   Yeah, I understand women — they all want daggers and swords. It’s all quite simple, really. ”

“   Lord forgive me but I may have to make a nonessential purchase. ”

“   Those are bold words for someone in stabbing range. ”

“   Yes I’m a gatekeeper and a hater. I’m also God’s most favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world. ”

“   My primary motivations are fear, spite, and aesthetic longing. ”

“   Man — if I had a sword, I wouldn’t be worried about shit. ”

“   It’s not blood that runs through these veins but glitter gel pen ink. ”

“   If I was in a Jane Austen novel, I would be the one sent to the seaside for my health. ”

“   Half of me is a hopeless romantic, and the other half of me is … well … an asshole. ”

“   I am the nicest, sweetest, most rage-filled person I know. ”

“   I hope I give off the vibe to all animals that I am their ally and their friend. ”

“   I see you’re paying attention to someone who is not me. Why is that? ”

“   Normalize letting me talk without making any sense. ”

“   Don’t care, didn’t ask, plus my psychic visions have predicted the outcome of this encounter. ”

“   I could be so much worse. For example, I could start acting like my father. ”

“   Sorry for acting so strange and irregular; It will happen again. ”

“   i love sitting in my room.....alone....a girl in her cave....scheming and plotting and drinking tea. ”

“   These man made horrors are beyond YOUR comprehension. I get it though. ”

“   I’m a goth girl on the inside. On the outside? A father figure. ”

“   I don’t need to face reality; I’m not just that type of girl. ”

“   DO I LOOK LIKE I GIVE A frickle-frackle? ”

“   I’m about to cha cha real smooth off a fucking cliff. ”

“   Sorry I told you about my trauma. Do you still think I’m hot? ”

“   My priorities aren’t straight and neither am I. ”

“   I have felt permanently guilty for no reason since I was like eight years old. ”

“   Of course I have a lot of pent up rage, you fool! I’ve been the same height since I was twelve years old! ”

“   I was born for shock value. ”

“   Good morning! God has let me live another day and I’m about to make it everyone’s problem. ”

“   Oh, I slept miserably because I was tormented by terrible visions all night. I hope none of them were prophetic! ”

“   Be the surreal nonsense that you want to see in the world. ”

“   Being smart has never stopped me from being a complete fucking idiot. ”

“   My hobbies include knowing things and being right. ”

“   This is good advice, but don’t tell me what to do. ”

“   I hate the idea of authority. What the fuck is someone being superior to me? Bitch I’m gonna take your kneecaps. ”

“   Stop forgiving my crimes! I worked so hard on those! ”

“   My hobbies? Uhhhh, symbolism mostly. Metaphors and implications and the like. ”

“   I may not have any braincells, but I make up for it by having many heart cells. ”

“   I can’t mansplain manipulate manwhore my way out of this one guys! ”

“   Not all your life decisions have to be smart. Some can be purely for cinematic value. ”

“   Sometimes I wish I looked more fragile and feminine like a dainty flower, but I do enjoy looking like I hate everyone. ”

“   Any dream can be a prophetic dream if you’re willing to do some really weird shit. ”

“   girl help there is not enough enrichment in my enclosure. ”

“   BRO, you NEED to stop SUMMONING DEMONS in the FRAT HOUSE. ”

“   I just gave your address to some spiders! ”

“   I disappoint my father as a hobby now. ”

“   I think that the dark circles under my eyes add to my aesthetic actually. ”

“   Good news! I’ve successfully replaced all of my emotions with jokes! ”

“   I have half a braincell left and I’m very scared to use it! ”

“   Listen, son — in this world, it’s either yeet or be yeeted. ”

“   I appreciate the advice, but I think that I’m old enough to make my own bad decisions. ”

“   I’m disappointed in me too. Y’all aren’t special. ”

“   Running from your demons is the best exercise! ”

“   Sorry; I can’t commit any crimes with you. My mom says that I have to study. ”

“   Time flies when you don’t know what the fuck is going on. ”

“   If I run out of tacos, I can no longer maintain my human form. ”

“   Bestie, I don’t think that I can girlboss under these conditions. ”

“   Yeah I’ve had combat training; I can do anxiety attacks! ”

“   Swag is earned, not learned. ”

“   Contrary to popular belief, violence solves a lot. ”

“   I CANNOT STAND YOU ALL so I will SIT DOWN. ”

“   Please God no … I don’t need any more character development right now! ”

“   If you can’t beat ‘em, yeet ‘em. ”

“   Do not put me in a situation. I’m at my limit and I am very tired. ”

“   I may be depressed, but at least I’m not basic. ”

“   It’s MY LIFE and I’ll sabotage it myself, thank you. ”

“   Think twice? Bold of you to assume that I think once. ”

“   At the next inconvenience, I will start biting people. ”

“   Oops I think that I just experienced an emotion. ”

“   Did you know that rats spelled backwards is star? ”

“   One day, I’ll be reincarnated as a pigeon, and I’ll shit on your head. ”

“   On the outside, I’m a baddie — but on the inside, I’m a saddie. ”

“   My grandma bullies me through the Ouija board. ”

“   I’m a cool person if you can just look past my personality. ”

“   Beetles don’t have to do taxes, and I think that is a beautiful way to live. ”

“   I hope that you get your character development arc soon. ”

“   Those are some nice kneecaps … It’d be a shame if someone stole them … ”

“   I’ve wanted to be a trophy wife ever since I was a little boy. ”

“   I’m done being baby; I want POWER ”

“   Wait, “Just Standing There Ominously” doesn’t count as socializing? ”

“   Yes I am smart, and yes, I am stupid. It’s called being flexible. ”

“   I am NOT delusional!!!!! I am OPTIMISTIC! ”

“   I deserve compensation for not being the menace to society that i could be, like i'm skipping out on a lot of fun here. ”

“   Do not ask me if you should or shouldn't do something !!! Before I am a friend I am an enabler !!! ”

“   i am the WORLDS PRETTYIST PINK PRINCESS and im gonna KILL YOU WITH MY HUGE FUCKING HAMMER ”

[bouquetface]

Solar Return Observations 3

Accuracy influenced by entire chart

SR VENUS conjunct NATAL MERCURY

This can sometimes indicate resolving issues. Venus can offer a harmonious energy. You or someone else may effectively communicate to create solution.

House placement is important as well - EX: In 3rd, it could be with a childhood friend, siblings/cousin, neighbour. You or them could reach out to resolve past problems.

SR VENUS conjunct NATAL VENUS

In a social house like 7th, 5th, 11th, 1st, this can indicate a new romantic interest.

In 11th, 10th or 2nd this can indicate a blessing in finances, reputation, or long term goals.

In 10th, you may be promoted. You may find a new source of income. You may be better perceived. A boost in reputation or status.

In 2nd, you may purchase one or many new possession. You may find a new source of income. You may receive help in finances.

However, keep in mind entire chart influences accuracy. For example, SR VENUS conjunct NATAL VENUS in 2nd H opposite Jupiter. This can manifest as making purchases that you can’t afford. Venus can feel indulgent. If you’re not disciplined in finances, Jupiter in 8th may expand your debt/what you owe.

SR Lilith in 9th

Usually I don’t put too much focus on asteroids in SR. However, I have seen this many times in the charts of friend’s in the year they dropped out.

This can manifest as being the “outcast”. You may not feel you belong while travelling. You may feel you don’t belong while enrolled in a uni or other type of higher educational program.

SR SOUTH NODE conjunct ASC

This can result in unintentional or intentional weight loss. South Node can create decrease. In my experience, this can be a year where you focus less on yourself. You don’t even realize you aren’t getting enough sleep and/or food. Your focus is on your relationship’s with other people (romantic, business, platonic). Since SR NORTH NODE would be in 7th, this can be due to changes in relationships with others.

SR MARS IN 8th

This is can be a difficult placement. Be careful to not act on any impulsive or negative thoughts. You may experience a lot of emotional distress. Mars can be quick to act.

You may rely on other people’s finances as well. A negative manifestation of this would be stealing money or a possession from someone else.

SR Jupiter in 5th

This can indicate you or someone else is expecting a child.

You may meet new romantic interests.

You may find new hobbies. You can teach others about these hobbies/recreational activities.

The negative manifestation is you may find there is a lot of drama in your life this year. You may want to check aspects & natal jupiter placement for more insight. Example: If natal Jupiter is 10th, possibly this drama is regarding the workplace or authority figures.

SR SOUTH NODE in 12th H

This can leave you feeling mentally or physically depleted. The reasons may be unknown to you. A mystery illness. Negative emotion lurking behind you for possibly unknown reasons.

North node would be in 6th if you have this placement. This suggests you may be inspired to focus on fixing your health. You may join a gym or find other ways to be active. You may create an entirely new routine. You may get a pet to help your mental health.

A negative manifestation would be changes in daily life possibly on the job that negatively affect your mental or physical well-being.

SR MARS conjunct ASC

This can make you prone to accidents. You could develop a rash. You may find scars on your body or face. You may struggle with more frequent breakouts.

The positive manifestation is you are more energized. You could be more active this year. You could be more assertive and action orientated. This may lead to more arguments.

SR MARS conjunct MC

This can indicate your being seen as more assertive. You may go for leadership roles in the workplace. This can indicate hostility in the workplace and in regard to your reputation/status.

ex: Let’s say SR MC is conjunct URANUS & SR MARS is conjunct MC. This seriously indicates a tough work year. You may unexpectedly be fired or quit.

SR PLUTO conjunct SR VERTEX

This indicates a transformative event that is fated. This event may lead to receiving more power or status. However, if badly placed it can be a loss of power & status.

To find in which area of life it will occur, check for the house. EX:

4th H : You may move. You may experience a death in the family.

6th: You may experience the death of a pet. You may be diagnosed with an illness or disorder.

3rd: You may move neighbourhood. You may get a new vehicle. Your relationships with siblings, cousins, childhood friends and even neighbours may change.

SR Saturn conjunct Neptune

This transit will kick your ass if you have been doing any shady shit - lying, cheating, stealing, going behind people's back, etc. The consequences are unavoidable. I have seen people who have this in their SR be exposed, shamed and left.

If you aren't doing any of that, it can still be tough. You may find other's around you are exposed. They could have been going behind your back.

Depending on house & sign, the experience will force you to mature. You can get a hard reality check if you haven't been actually working toward you goals. Saturn will bring experiences that make it hard for Neptune to keep you in a dream state. Saturn wants you to create a solid plan and start working toward your dreams.

[spookyscarydemonbabe]

Late Showing

Summary- After a work shift you find Gareth all by himself, waiting for someone that never showed. Although you’ve had your differences, you can’t help but want to make him feel better.

Genre- Fluff

Warnings- None c:

Tag List- @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @munsonology @aidansloth @esme-viridian @morganwrites12672 @hawkinsmafia

(my tag list is always open, if you’d like to be added please let me know 💋)

Word Count- 2.8k

You yawned as you adjusted yourself in the uncomfortable velvet lined chair, head rested on your hand, not paying attention to anything that was going on around you. Being the ticket girl at the movies wasn’t a very exciting job, especially during those days of the week where you were basically getting paid to sit around and look pretty. But, it was a job that paid, and that’s all that mattered. It was just surprising for it to be this slow on a Friday.

You still tried your best to be alert, paying attention to every sound just in case it was anyone trying to make you do your job. Your ears perked up at the sounds of a few familiar laughs.

Every Friday after their DnD session, the older boys from Hellfire Club would usually stop by for a late night showing of whatever horror or comedy movie looked the most interesting. They were decently friendly, save for a few normal stupid teenage boy comments and stereotypical ‘boy humor’ that didn’t exactly translate all that well to girls. They were all relatively nice with you, they’ve seen you once or twice a week for the last six months so it was normal to have a conversation with them every now and then. But somehow, every week, one of them made it seem like it was his mission to piss you off.

At least, that’s what you took from your interactions with him.

And seeing him walking up to your booth with his hands on his pockets and a smirk on his face told you he was definitely going to try and get you today. Good thing you were stubborn enough to get him first.

“(y/n).” He said with a smile as he approached the booth with the other boys behind him.

“Gareth.” You smiled to him and looked just past him to smile at his friends, “Boys. You’re here awful early, aren’t you supposed to be jerking each other off in the drama room right about now?” You smirked to him.

The smirk dropped off Gareths face as he heard the boys try to stifle their chuckles at your comment.

“…We finished early.”

He only realized the error of his last words after the boys laughed harder behind him.

“Is that right?” You giggled, “What are you guys seeing today?”

“What’s playing?”

“Well,” You said, “if you look at the marquee that’s right above my head, it’ll tell you what’s playing.”

“Wow, bitchier than normal today are we?” Gareth laughed to himself.

“Only for you, sweetheart.” You said with an eye roll.

“Ignore him (y/n),” Eddie said as he shoved Gareth aside, “we’ll take four for The Fly.”

“Ooh, that’s a good one!” You smiled and tore off four tickets from the roll beside you, “Lots of gross stuff, really good body horror.”

You handed Eddie the tickets as he gave you the $20 bill from his pocket and he tore them each away as he handed them to the guys.

“You’ve seen it?” Gareth asked with a scoff, “How?”

“Maybe because i work here, idiot.”

Gareth wasn’t even given a chance to respond before getting his arm tugged away by Eddie into the theater.

You giggled and rolled your eyes to yourself, sitting back in your seat and waiting for the next customers to come up and purchase their tickets.

Your constant back and forth with one another couldn’t be traced back to one specific incident, they’ve been happening for so long you couldn’t remember who said what first or even how it began, but it eventually became a highlight of your shifts.

You’d be sitting in that booth for hours, nothing to entertain you except the rare occasion when there’s actual work to do or if you managed to bring in a book or magazine with you. As soon as you saw those boys pile out of whoever’s car they drove in and you saw the familiar red vest on Gareth, you couldn’t help but be excited for whatever nonsense he had to spew at you that day.

You didn’t hate each other. You certainly didn’t like one another, but you didn’t hate him. It was all innocent fun.

A week later, you were in the same position.

Bored, stuck at work in that little booth out front just waiting for the boys to show up again for their normal friday night routine.

You checked your watch and noticed it was later than normal for them, usually they were there around 4-5 pm, but as it approached closer and closer to 7 you figured they probably just decided to switch things up for the night. There wasn’t anything that great showing anyways.

Until you saw a familiar car pull into the lot.

You were glad to see them again, and finally be able to have a little bit of interaction with someone after being stuck alone in that little booth. But when you saw just one person step out of the car and approach the booth, you let out a gentle sigh.

Gareth walked up to the booth with a smile on his face, pulling out a $10 bill from his pocket and placing it onto the counter,

“Two for Chopping Mall.”

You took the $10 and glanced behind him before reaching around and pulling two tickets off of the reel,

“Why do you need two if it’s just you?” You asked, sliding him the tickets, “I figured the guys would be with you.”

“I asked them to stay back this time.” He gave you a cocky smile and took the tickets, “I’m meeting someone. A girl.” He shrugged, his eyes quickly scanning you for your reaction.

“Oh. Alright,” You shrugged, giving him a smile, “enjoy the movie then.”

Your reaction threw him off, and you could tell by the way his eyebrows raised ever so slightly, but you didn’t pay any mind to it. Gareth smiled back and wandered into the theater without another word.

The next two hours went as they usually did for you, handing out tickets to the various families and couples for their friday night excursions to the theater, though there was one thought that you couldn’t get out of your head. There were plenty of guys that came alone, but not one girl had walked inside by herself. You could be wrong, she probably just wandered in when you weren’t looking or came in through a different entrance.

Either way, you wouldn’t let yourself dwell on it for much longer.

You didn’t like Gareth, and he didn’t like you. That’s how it’s always been, and how it always will be.

But when it reached 9:15, and you noticed a crowd of people leaving the theater as you got the little booth ready to close up for the night. Tickets were put away, the little ‘sorry, we’re closed’ sign was turned in the window, and all the cash was locked up for the managers to count. As you switched the light off in the booth, you walked into the theater by the connecting door, but there was a little pit in your heart as the door closed behind you.

Gareth was still sitting on one of the benches inside, alone, in near darkness from the lights inside switching off as it got closer and closer to closing time.

You slowly walked over to him, and as you looked closer at his face it made you regret any time the two of you had one of your little spats with one another. He was sitting there looking like a kicked puppy, waiting all this time for a girl that never even showed up. You didn’t like him, you were so certain, but seeing anyone in that predicament was enough to pull at your heartstrings.

“Gareth?” You asked quietly, catching him by surprise as he jumped slightly in his seat.

“Oh, hey. Just, uh…” He cleared his throat and showed you the tickets still in his hand, “waiting. I think she’ll be here soon, we’ll just see the later showing…”

“Gareth,” You sighed, “we’re closing. The movies over…” He pursed his lips and gave you a slow nod, looking back down at the tickets he held in his lap, “I’m sorry-“

“No, it’s ok.” He stood up quickly, shoving the now useless tickets into his pocket as he cut you off, “i’ll just, uh… See you next friday.”

You gave him a small but friendly smile as he stepped past you, and he copied it.

In that moment there was a switch that flipped inside you.

Seeing him so defeated, all alone waiting for someone who probably wasn’t going to show anyways.

“Hey!” You called out to him as you took a few steps closer. He stopped and turned to you. “Did you still want to see that movie?”

Gareth shrugged,

“I guess so. But you said you’re closed?”

“I work here.” You giggled, “Come with me.”

You grasped his hand and led him down the quiet, dimly lit halls into one of the empty theaters. The lights along the sides of the walls were still on, though it was strange to see a theater so quiet and empty.

“Sit wherever you want,” You gently let go of his hand, though it felt strange to not have something filling that space, “I’ll be back in just a minute. Want a snack or something?”

Gareth shrugged again as he looked over the empty rows of seats,

“Popcorn is always nice.” He said to you with a smile. You could already tell he was feeling better.

“Popcorn.” You nodded, “No problem. I’ll be back in a few minutes, sit wherever you want.” You smiled and wandered out of the theater.

Gareth looked around for a moment before spotting a pair of seats right in the middle. He slowly walked up and got comfortable, smiling to himself as he sat there waiting patiently for you.

It was strange.

You’d never been nice to him, at least not this nice. Gareth didn’t know what it was, if it was you doing this out of sympathy or not, but he didn’t mind it. When he looked past all those childish arguments the two of you had, they seemed almost pointless. Behind the mask of insults and one liners, he could see that you were just a nice girl. And he was hoping you’d see the same for him too.

The two of you had never been alone in any sense of the word, the only time you had was during the five minutes of words you’d exchange over him or one of the guys buying tickets. It felt so weird. There were a thousand and one outcomes he could’ve imagined up from the two of you being around each other alone, each one of them ending up with either him having a black eye or you getting fired for ‘unlawful conduct’ with a paying customer. Never like this.

His train of thought was interrupted as the lights along the side walls started to dim, and the screen started to show the beginning static of a film reel. Just as the trailers started playing he heard the theater doors open and soon saw you with a bucket of popcorn in your arms.

“Here,” You said with a smile as you handed him the bucket, “I hope you like extra butter and salt, cause that’s what i put on it.”

“Who doesn’t?” He smiled back.

Your attention was soon grabbed by the lit screen as trailers started rolling for the newest upcoming movies. It was quiet between the two of you as you sat and watched the screen, but it was in no way an uncomfortable silence. Rather, it felt oddly comforting.

It was nice to be sitting there with him, and without even noticing all that anger that you had always felt for him was melting away. As the screen turned back to black, you snuck a glance over at him. It was quick, and you were certain he hadn’t noticed as you turned your head back to the screen.

But he did. And he liked you looking at him.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t try and sneak a few glances at you as the movie went on, and though it was quiet, you could almost feel it every time he did. It was nice.

It was so strange. You had never gotten along in any sense of the word before. Each time you saw him or he saw you, you had to prepare yourself to come back at anything he said, but this was the longest the two of you had gone without making a quip at the other. You liked it.

He was actually quite nice to be around. It felt comforting to have him there, especially during a scary movie.

You glanced over his way one last time before slowly leaning in to whisper,

“I’m sorry that girl never showed.”

Gareth looked to you with a thankful smile,

“Thanks.” As you looked back to the screen he leaned in closer to you, “I’m sorry for always being a dick to you.”

You quickly looked back to him. His apology caught you off guard. It wasn’t unwanted by any means, you deserved an apology for the things he’s said to you. But you knew he deserved one too, you weren’t going to deny he’d gotten the same remarks from you.

“I’m sorry for always being a bitch to you.”

You both apologetically smiled to one another.

Your arguments were what made your ‘relationship’ worthwhile, it was nice to have someone to lash out on after a difficult time dealing with customers that made it seem like it was their destiny to be a pain in your ass. But it felt even nicer to know how sorry he was for everything. It felt like being nice to each other was going to be a lot easier than being each others punching bags.

“No hard feelings?” Gareth whispered to you as he offered over the bucket of popcorn.

You couldn’t help but stifle back a quick laugh as you grabbed a few pieces of popcorn,

“No hard feelings.”

You smiled at each other once more, your face turning back to face the screen as you ate the few pieces of popcorn he had offered. But you could still sense his eyes on you.

Gareth took a slow, quiet breath, as if he was nervous about something. He leaned towards your ear to whisper once more,

“This is nice.”

As you turned to him, a blush arose onto your cheeks and a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. He was still so close, your noses nearly brushing as you turned your head. Your eyes glanced over his face as the light from the screen illuminated his face ever so slightly in the darkness of the theater. And you had to admit, this lighting made him look a way you had never imagined yourself seeing him in.

He just looked so good.

If you had to be watching a scary movie with anyone, you were glad it was him.

You nodded gently, the smile on your lips getting harder to hide as you could just barely see the pink on his cheeks too.

You both quickly turned away once more, each of you hiding your red faces and wide smiles from the other.

It wasn’t a date, but it was sure starting to feel like one.

A few moments passed by, the tension between the two of you could be cut with a knife, and as you sensed Gareth start to move next to you it definitely caught your attention. Though he wasn’t fidgeting in his seat as you assumed.

His arms gently raised up over his head, and you tried so hard to stifle your giggles the moment you heard an overacted yawn coming from him. And just as you suspected, as his arms came back down, one found its way laid across your shoulders.

You looked to him and quietly giggled as he looked to his lap with an embarrassed, but comfortable, laugh.

“That was so lame.” You said as you raised your hand to your lips to quiet your giggles.

Gareth looked to you with that smile still on his face, his hand gently moving over your shoulder,

“But it worked, didn’t it?”

Your giggles slowly ceased and your lips pursed,

“Shut up.” You said with a smile and an eye roll as you looked back to the screen, your head moving to rest on his shoulder as he pulled you in closer.

Whatever this was between the two of you, it wasn’t a date. But you were hoping he would ask you on one soon.

[suosgirl]

i can't stop thinking about your recent story 😩 it's so fluffy 💗 what if suo saves reader from thugs one day, as a gentleman as he is, suo accompanies her until she can finally go home safely. oh! then! they meet again unexpectedly in kotoha's cafe since the reader's classmate wants to buy a coffee. reader gave suo a chinese novel as a way of thanks since she notice that he likes chinese stuff due to his outfit then it made suo curious about her which led him to pinning at her but she's kinda dense HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

A Gentleman (& His Rambler) | Hayato Suo x Reader

Word Count: 4501

୨ৎ Read me before interacting!

୨ৎ Pairing: Hayato Suo x Reader feat. brief (very brief) mentions of Haruka Sakura and Akihiko Nirei

୨ৎ Song Inspiration: Talk Too Much - Reneé Rapp

୨ৎ Warnings: mdni, fluff, f!reader, ooc (definitely ooc sorry ah), angst (?), harassment, insecurities, swearing, kissing, 1 oblivious idiot and 1 lovesick idiot – if I’ve missed one, I apologize + please let me know!

୨ৎ Note: Oh my goodness this was such a fluffy and cute idea ahhh!!! Thank you for the request (and so sorry that it took so long ahh)!! Definitely took a lot of liberties with this (f!reader is written as a college student) but I hope you enjoy the story (and I hope it was somewhere in the ballpark of what you were thinking of hehe)!!!! Additional notes: I wasn’t too comfortable with just writing down any old novel, so I did a bit of research on my end and wrote it in a way that made sense to me as well as Suo’s character! So sorry if this wasn’t really what you had in mind, but I think it flows fairly well with the story so I hope that it makes sense for you as well! ♡

In your defense, at least you talked about things that were interesting. At least, you had thought so, but the puzzled looks on your assailant's faces beg to differ. It’s funny, when Suo comes across the men harassing you, he knows that you’re in trouble – but instead of taking the time to maybe scream for help or yell at them to go away, you’re instead in the middle of explaining differential equations to them.

You hated this. You weren’t even supposed to be walking home alone.

But, when duty calls (the duty being your friend having to beg their professor for a grading curve), well – you make do with what you’ve got. 

You could’ve stayed, and right now, you think that you should’ve stayed, but you were never a patient person – so, determined and tenacious, you start your short journey back home. 

You’re counting on making quick work of the stroll, maybe stopping by the corner store to pick up some snacks and a well-deserved coffee, before finally bunkering down to start the copious amount of research that you’ve been putting off.

What you aren’t counting on, though, is for a group of guys to start following you just a little after you leave campus.

You don’t count on them running after you once you speed your walk up to a run.

And, you don’t count on them to corner you in an alley when you ignore their pleas of “slow down” and “we just wanna talk”.

They drive you into a corner, and you shrink under their outraged eyes and towering frames.

You’re absolutely fucked, and you know it.

Your mind short circuits, and you freeze – one hand on the strap of your bag, and the other clamped around your phone.

You know what you should do. You should threaten to call the authorities, you should start crying for help, you should try to make a dash past all of them to freedom.

But, you’re you, so…

Like any sane person – you start talking.

Despite the tears that are threatening to fall from your eyes and the wobble in your knees, you start telling these harassers about how your classes went, the textbooks you purchased (at an outrageous price, might you add), the quiz that you failed, and the project that you have due in a couple of days.

And – you can’t help it. It’s not like they knew what they were signing up for when they chased you, but you’re sure that if they did, then the thought wouldn’t have even crossed their minds.

On all accounts, you didn’t think your rambling was even that bad, and honestly, you rarely ever did it.

(This is all pure speculation on your end, by the way.)

But you know how some people are just gifted? How some things just come naturally to them? 

…Yeah. That was you. Would some say that you simply don’t have a filter? Maybe. Would others say that you talk at the speed of light? Perhaps.

In your defense, at least you talked about things that were interesting. At least, you had thought so, but the puzzled looks on your assailants faces beg to differ.

It’s funny, when Suo comes across the men harassing you, he knows that you’re in trouble – but instead of taking the time to maybe scream for help or yell at them to go away, you’re instead in the middle of explaining differential equations to them. 

And what’s silly is that it works – you’ve got them standing there scratching their heads as they try to just keep up with you, and you …

Well, Suo drinks in the sight of you. 

It’d be hard not to – not with the way that you’re moving your hands in earnest with your words or the way your brows are scrunching up in agitation.

Wisps of your hair have escaped the haphazard bun you’d done earlier that day, and your face has a glowing, rosy flush to it.

And your lips – 

Well, Suo’s never had the urge to kiss a stranger, but… 

With the way that they part pretty with every word, and the occasional peek of the tip of your tongue as you lick them, Suo can’t say that he would say no if you so chose to reward him for his hard work with a press of your lips to his.

And, from what he can gather, you really hate differential equations.

It’s captivating, really.

Besides… Suo’s always been fairly weak to charming little things like you.

ִׄ˚ • 𖥔 ࣪˖ ⭑ ₊ ⭒ *ೃ༄

You’re not sure how or even when (as your body is still in fight or flight mode and your mouth is still going) but eventually, there’s only one person standing in front of you – and it’s a stranger.

A kind, attractive stranger who’s just saved you.

And now, he’s comforting you, voice soft and smile gentle as he tells you that everything's okay now.

But you… well, you’re inconsolable. 

Not because you’ve just experienced a traumatic incident, no.

It’s because, well, you’ve just yapped like your life depended on it, in front of a man who had not only saved you, but also witnessed said incessant talking.

Embarrassed doesn’t even begin to explain the way that you feel right now.

You do your best to thank him in a polite and brief manner before going on your merry way, but he can see the way you’re gripping your bag and walking with a slight sway to your step.

And it would be rude, right? To let you walk home all alone? After experiencing something like this?

At least, that's what Suo tells himself before he sends Sakura and Nirei a quick message that he’ll be running late to meet with them.

Always the gentleman, Suo catches up with you and offers to walk you home.

The request catches you off guard more than you’d like to admit, so much so that all you can do is shyly nod with wide eyes when he asks if you’d like him to hold your school bag as well.

There’s a slight brush of your fingertips as you hand the bag to him, and you feel it coming.

You know what’s about to happen, but there’s no way in hell that you can stop what’s already begun.

And you, always the rambler, start talking about everything and anything that you can think of just to fill the silence between you.

He had chalked down your reaction earlier to being in a heightened state of panic, but, as he escorts you home, he realizes that – no, this is just how you are.

And it’d be a lie if he didn’t find it endearing.

When you’re delivered safe and sound, you promise to get him a gift to show your gratitude but he waves it off, saying that you don’t have to go out of your way to do so.

(He doesn’t tell you that he’d much rather just be in your company to see what else will spill from your pretty lips.)

ִׄ˚ • 𖥔 ࣪˖ ⭑ ₊ ⭒ *ೃ༄

You, however, weren’t one to let something like that go — especially for the person who’d saved you. You don’t catch his name (which is shocking because how did you forget to ask him such an important question amongst everything else), but that doesn’t discourage you – If there’s one thing that you are, it’s stubborn.

And also talkative.

You begin asking around, from your friends to your neighbors to even store employees, trying to get as much information about him as you can. 

You learn his name, that he’s a part of Bofurin (figures), that he enjoys drinking tea, and that he has an affinity for Chinese-styled clothing. But beyond that, the trail goes cold. It seems that he’s someone who keeps his tastes close to heart, so you’ve got no other choice but to work with what little you’ve learned.

Almost immediately, you tick off any tea related gifts in your mind. You ran exclusively on iced coffee and pure adrenaline, so – yeah. You definitely did not have the necessary judge of character needed to distinguish tea blends.

But! You don’t let that little roadblock deter you. Stubbornness can work wonders.

You rack your brain for what feels like ages on what gift could suit a man as mysterious as him, but a girl can only muse for so long – and you weren’t happy with any of your ideas thus far.

You could get him clothes, but you don’t know his size. You could treat him to a meal, but your sources tell you that he’s rarely ever seen eating. You could get him jewelry cleaner for his earrings, but you’re not quite sure of the materials that are in them.

It isn’t until you’re stuck in the campus library during one fateful cram session that it hits you – literature.

It suited him! It was the best of both worlds, you thought. It was heartfelt, and also of substance for a man of his caliber. And – it made sense!

(This also could’ve been an act of procrastination on your part, but you feign ignorance.)

You spend about half of an hour speaking to the librarian about what Chinese books get borrowed the most, and the other half scouring over the internet for recommendations and book reviews.

What you land on, after extensive research that really should’ve been spent on school (but whatever), is a book called “The Book of Songs: The Ancient Chinese Classic of Poetry”.

According to the librarian, this book is loaned at least once to twice a month, which is surprising considering that it’s not a required text for any of your school’s courses. What you take away from this, though, is that it’s popular. 

And when you see the 4.6 out of 5 rating, well – 

The people don’t lie. At least, you assume so. The librarian had also said that this was a classic for anyone interested in Chinese literature, and who were you to deny the suggestions of a clear expert in the matter?

And, when you slip in a handwritten note of yet another “thanks” with your number and name in the cover of the book, well, who could blame you?

You just wanted to know his thoughts on the book – that’s all.

Really.

But the thing is that you haven’t got the slightest clue on how to give it to him.

He wasn’t at Furin High anymore, so that wasn’t a solution. And – you weren’t so desperate to ask around for his address, so you find yourself stuck between a rock and a hard place.

So what do you do?

Like any sane person – you keep it in your book bag.

Eventually, right? Eventually, you’ll see him again, and you can just drop it in his hands before scurrying away like the little shy bumblebee you are. And if he doesn’t message you back? Hey – no worries! You’ll just do everything in your power to erase the interaction from your mind until your inevitable passing of old age!

Good god, you were starting to ramble in your head now.

‘Eventually’ becomes a safety word for you of sorts. It means the inevitable future, that’ll come sooner or later.

You just didn’t know that it would be today.

ִׄ˚ • 𖥔 ࣪˖ ⭑ ₊ ⭒ *ೃ༄

When your friend asks you to meet at Café Pothos after class so that you can get coffee, you answer with an immediate and desperate yes. 

But – 

Whether it was due to the all nighter you had pulled the night before, or the overwhelming workload you had been saddled with over the course of the past couple days – you’re not sure, but you swear that your eyes are playing tricks on you.

Because, lo and behold, sitting at the counter with the afternoon glow illuminating his side profile perfectly, is Suo.

And you feel all the air escape your lungs.

Your friend calls your name from a table just a little further into the café, but you can’t move – not with his gift weighing so heavy in your bag.

It isn’t until one of Suo’s friends, one with black and white hair, is nudging Suo with his shoulder and tilting his chin in the direction of you.

“Ya got someone staring – do you know ‘em?”

When Suo turns to you, eye wide with surprise and his mouth just slightly parted, you can’t help but feel like a moron because – you’d forgotten just how handsome he really is.

And when he gets up from his chair to meet you in the café’s doorway, you try to bite back the words that are already forming at the tip of your tongue. 

“Oh, it’s you! It’s been a while since I last saw you – Sorry, I didn’t get your name last time. What was it?”

You take a deep breath in, willing the monstrosity that’s your mouth to calm down just the slightest. 

Just one question. He just asked one question. Even a grade school child could answer this without getting distracted. You could absolutely do this.

You, with all the willpower that you can muster, let your name flow out before immediately clamping down on your tongue.

But then, Suo tilts his head in a playful manner as he lets your name roll off his tongue, as if practicing it for future use, and at that point, even cement would serve powerless against the impulse of your mouth.

And you break.

“Ah! By the way – remember when I said I would get you a gift? You know, for saving me last time? That was so scary, haha, and I just wanted to thank you again for helping me out that day. I got you this poetry book, I hope you like it! I wasn’t sure what you’d like, and I didn’t know what else I could get you, but this has really good reviews! I even spoke to my school librarian about it! 4.6 out of 5, can you believe that? So, I hope it lives up to the praise, haha, but let me know if it doesn’t! If it doesn’t, well, I’m sure I can find something else for you… by the way, I –”

Okay, so you couldn’t do it.

You’re interrupted by the low whistling of one of Suo’s friends, and you blink rapidly before throwing your hand over your mouth.

But Suo, well – 

He’s looking down at you with a hint of fondness in his eye, but you wouldn’t know that, not with the way that your gaze is glued to the floor.

You did it again, and this time, with an audience. 

Briefly, you wonder if it’s too late for you to ask for the book back so that you can pathetically stuff your note into your pocket – and then burn it later.

But the book’s already in his hands, and the words have already left your mouth.

“... I think I talk too much,” you mumble as you tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, suddenly very well aware that Suo’s barely said less than 30 words compared to your whopping 124.

This wasn’t what you had wanted, but you just couldn’t help it.

He laughs, though, and goes to gently pat your head.

“Maybe so…”

He pats twice, before trailing the tips of his fingers gently down the side of your face.

“... but I’m a good listener.”

He ends his words with a playful tap of his finger to the tip of your nose, but all you can do is gape in response.

God, he really was just way too nice.

(He was not, in fact, just being nice – but you’d find this out much, much later.)

ִׄ˚ • 𖥔 ࣪˖ ⭑ ₊ ⭒ *ೃ༄

To your surprise, Suo actually likes hanging out with you. Or at least, that’s what he says, but you’re not so sure. Not when you’re doing most of the talking, and he’s leaning his chin on his hand as he listens. 

Sometimes, and you hate when you do this, but you wonder if he’s just taking pity on you.

You don’t like to think about it too much, don’t like to feed the insecurity that dwells deep in your heart, but sometimes, you can’t help it.

And it’s not like you’ve never heard it before – the comments of “you’re so loud” or “do you ever breathe?” or, and this is your personal favorite, “you talk too much.”

Because yeah – you know, you’re aware.

It’s easy to laugh it off, and you do every time, but when you’re alone at night, with just you and your thoughts, you can’t help but create a daily habit – 

One where you replay everything that you’ve said that day, and you try to critique yourself.

Oh, I spoke too much during that – I’ve got to tone it down. 

Yikes, I got a little loud there – I need to speak softer.

Oops, I went on a tangent – I need to cut myself off.

And honestly? This habit becomes your bread and butter, despite how detrimental you know it is. Because the reality is, you’d much rather hear it from yourself than others.

But, being with Suo – 

Well, he doesn’t let you. 

Doesn’t let you tone it down, or speak softer, or cut yourself off.

Because he’s just as invested in what you’re saying as you are – and the feeling of that is …

“Tell me more – I’m listening.”

“I can’t hear you love, can you speak up?”

“Why’d you stop? It was just getting interesting.”

Well, it’s indescribable to you.

And, he does this soft little hum as he listens to you, and everytime, everytime it has you stumbling over your words just the slightest.

(You don’t catch the way that the corners of his lips perk up at the sound.)

And suddenly – you don’t have to bite back your tongue around him anymore. 

You can just be you, with no restrictions, no second guessing, no worries.

“I don’t get it,” you admitted once during one of your walks around your neighborhood (you’d needed a break from studying, and luckily, he just happened to be in the area for patrol), “I’m only like this when I’m around you.”

Suo laughs, and you feel your chest tighten just a bit at the sound, because his laugh was, well – 

The only word you can use to describe it is addictive.

And it always, always left you with butterflies in your stomach.

“That’s okay – I’d prefer it, actually.”

Your steps falter at his words, and he continues.

“I’d prefer if you’re only like this around me.”

That night, you’re left at your doorstep with rosy cheeks – and you’re 100% sure that it’s not due to the humid summer weather.

But you had to give it to him – he really was a good listener.

And, he had great memory.

Most of the time, you’d only really understand and process half the words that fly out of  your mouth, but Suo was able to process all of it.

If you absentmindedly mentioned that you’d really liked the coffee at this one café in Makochi, he’s asking if you’re free the coming weekend so that he can try their assortment of tea.

And when the cashier asks if you both are together, you innocently answer with a cheerful yes and fall into a tangent about how you’d loved their drinks so much that he’d wanted to try them too and now you’re both here to hang out and try more of their menu!

Suo doesn’t find it necessary to clarify what the cashier actually meant – not with the way that your answer sounds so right to him. 

Because yes, you were together, even if you yourself weren’t aware of it yet.

(A hangout in your eyes. A date in his.)

If you had an upcoming deadline, Suo was always diligently checking in with you. He’d send a text every couple of days, asking how it’s going and the efforts that you’ve made towards it – and you have to admit that while it was helpful, it was also extremely unnecessary.

Unnecessary only because you enjoyed procrastinating, but with a man like this, you simply couldn’t.

…

Okay, fine – so maybe you don’t have as many sleepless nights because you’re well ahead of your projected timeline. So maybe you spend less time cramming for tests because you’ve already reviewed the practice exam like three times. So maybe you’re able to lower your overall stress levels by actually adhering to the plans that you’ve set up for yourself.

So what?

It’s… it’s not like that was a problem before, right?

It absolutely was – but again, you’re stubborn, remember?

(Nagging in your eyes. Thoughtfulness in his.)

And, it’s during one of your “hangouts”, that Suo presses his luck.

He should’ve known, really, that it’d go through one ear and out the other, but he blames it on his unrivaled, optimistic spirit – and maybe just a smidge of wishful thinking.

Because introducing you as his special girl should’ve raised some flags in your mind, right?

It should’ve made you wonder – hm, why am I Suo’s special girl?

He swears he can see the gears turning in your head. 

But you’re you, so you take whatever it is that you thought it meant and you run with it.

And now, you’re introducing yourself to all of the past Bofurin members as his best friend, which – 

Not completely off base, but not at all what he was expecting from the situation.

And, when a couple of them send eyes of sympathy in his direction, all he can do is force a strained smile as he guides you, with his hand on your waist, to yet another group of people who will undoubtedly follow suit.

(Kindness in your eyes. Affection in his.)

At this point, you’re sure that he could read you like an open book – and he can.

He can read you so well, in fact, that he knows that you’re as dense as they come.

Because for months, Suo’s been playing the long game.

He’s been taking you out on dates, showering you with affection, and basically professing his devotion – all to show you what a great partner he could be for you.

But you – adorable, clueless, dense you. You just couldn’t quite get the hint, could you?

So, when Suo has to pull out the big guns to really get it through your thick skull (he thinks this in an affectionate way, he swears) – well, you only have yourself to blame.

Because how could someone so perfect be so damn oblivious?

ִׄ˚ • 𖥔 ࣪˖ ⭑ ₊ ⭒ *ೃ༄

“You’re aware that I have feelings for you, right?”

You’d been stargazing for the past 10 minutes, fingers just barely touching as you’re both splayed out on the blanket laid out below you.

It was supposed to be a fun little hangout as you celebrate the end of the quarter, but now, you’re starting to realize that maybe, just maybe – 

You blink, before sitting up.

He repeats his words, slower now, while rising up with you.

You blink again, slower now, as your brain processes what he’s just said.

It takes all of about 5 seconds before you open your mouth, ready to default back to your factory settings of rambling but –

Nothing comes out.

Suo had managed to stun you into silence for the first time in your life with less than 10 words.

And, judging by the pleased smile on his lips and the glint in his eye – he knows this.

This was a golden opportunity, after all. So, Suo takes advantage of it while he can.

Whether this is revenge for the past couple of months though, he’s not sure – but, he always was fairly petty.

“You’re so silly, you know that love?”

Your mouth, still open, can only close in response.

He presses on.

“You are, and this isn’t a compliment, the most oblivious person I’ve ever fallen for.”

Your breath hitches at his words.

“You never once left my mind after our first meeting – and when I saw you again at the café, well, I thought it was fate. It had to be – because how was I lucky enough to get to meet you again?”

You bite your tongue, this time not to hold back your words, but instead, to try and get your mouth to start working again.

“And it’s funny – because I managed to fall for someone who can capture the attention of strangers with just mere words, but somehow can’t see that I’ve been following them around like a lost, lovesick puppy since the day we crossed paths.”

You’re at a loss for why your mouth still won’t move.

“So if this still isn’t enough for you to finally see how deeply I feel for you, then I’m not sure what else I can do that’s still within the bounds of being a gentleman because –”

And finally, finally you’re able to cut him off – with a soft press of your lips to his cheek.

“... I‘m sorry Suo … but I think ... you talk too much.”

What can you say? You were never a patient person – and right now, with his feelings finally so clear to you, well… 

You were an idiot. To think, you could’ve done that so much earlier.

It takes him a second to process your words, cheek still reminiscing the brief contact of your lips on his skin, but – 

He gazes down at you, with a coy smile on his face and mirth in his eyes – and you can see it so clearly on his face, that feeling of triumph.

Because although he’d spent the past couple of months yearning for your affection, he wasn’t prepared for how rewarding it would be when you finally reciprocated.

“I suppose you’re rubbing off on me.”

Then, as an afterthought, he adds –

“I’m suddenly feeling very talkative. Will you, by any chance, be using that method to silence me right here?”

And when he taps on his lips with his finger, well – 

You weren’t dense enough to not understand what he was asking for.

And this time, when your lips meet his, he’s ready.

He snakes one arm around your waist to pull you onto his lap, with the other cupping the side of your face, and you melt.

It’s soft and drawn out and perfect, with both your lips parted just so – and there’s only one word that runs through both of your minds when you kiss.

Finally.

And, when your lips part, your bodies don’t. Instead, Suo presses his forehead against yours, and you feel your eyes flutter at the gesture.

God, you really were an idiot.

“By the way – that book you gave me, I realize now that I never got to let you know how much I liked it.”

You blink at his words, still in a daze from his lips on yours.

“How did you know that was my favorite book?”

You furrow your brows at his words, because you did not know that.

And Suo knows that you didn’t – but he continues.

Because, well, what can he say? You really were rubbing off on him.

“I loan it every month through one of my friends in Bofurin. Although, it’s nice to have my own copy now – especially since it’s from you.”

[annwrites]

⸻ happy new year. ⸻

· pairing: nate jacobs x fem!reader · type: one-shot (collection) · summary: you & nate run into each other on new year's eve & decide to spend it together. · word count: 2,452

“You alright?”

When you turn your head upwards, you're met by the sight of Nate Jacobs staring down at you with a raised brow.

You shake your head and lick powdered sugar from your lips.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I was just…” You sigh. “I was heading to Virgil’s New Year’s party with a friend, but they were already drinking when they picked me up. I demanded they let me out when they swerved into another lane. So, now I’m sitting in a convenience store parking lot eating donuts.”

You glance down to your phone. 

“I should probably order an Uber,” you mutter while unlocking the device.

He jerks his head toward his truck. “I’m headed that way if you want me to give you a ride.”

Your eyes flit to the case of Budweiser he holds in his hand, then to his face with a raised brow.

He grins. “I haven’t drank yet tonight. I was planning to save these for when I got to the party. I promise that I’m sober.”

You consider for a moment, then decide there’s no reason you can’t still enjoy the rest of the evening. You’ll go, then order an Uber to take you home once you’re ready to finally head that way.

Finally, you nod with a small smile. “Sure.”

He offers you an outstretched hand.

You rest your arms on the passenger-side windowsill and enjoy the feel of warm night air washing over you. 

“How come we’ve never hung out before?”

You turn back to Nate with a questioning look.

His lip twitches. “What?”

“Are you actually asking that?” You ask, leaning back.

He glances back to the road. “I think it’s a reasonable question. We’ve known each other for years. Since kindergarten. So that’s, what, since we were each five-years-old? Yet we barely know one another.”

You shrug slightly and take a sip from the bottle of water you purchased back at the store. “I guess it can seem strange: knowing someone nearly all your life, but not really knowing them. But it happens. People growing up together, but not inherently being friends, I mean.”

He shrugs. “No reason we can’t get to know each other now.”

You shift in your seat. “What? Like, tonight?”

He stares ahead at the road for a moment. “You want to blow this party off and go somewhere else instead?”

He glances to you then.

“Like where?” You ask with furrowed brows. 

He turns on his blinker. “You’ll see.”

You and Nate are seated in the bed of his pickup—which is parked near the high school's football field—with a case of beer resting between you.

Nate is on his second bottle, while you’re still nursing your first.

“So, tell me something about yourself,” he says, resting his head back against the rear window.

“Like what?” You ask while tracing the pad of your thumb around the rim of the bottle.

“Anything.”

You think for a moment. “This is the first time I’ve ever drank.”

He takes another sip of his beer. “How is it?”

You wrinkle your nose slightly and shrug. “It’s not my favorite.”

He chuckles. “I’m going out on a limb here and assuming a wine cooler or hard seltzer would’ve been more your speed.”

He rolls his head in your direction. “But I guess there's no real way to know.”

You take another drink.

“What about you?” You ask.

He raises a brow. “Hm?”

“Now is the part where you tell me something about you in return.”

He grows quiet for awhile. “Honestly, I was looking for an excuse not to go to the party tonight, simply because I didn’t want to see Maddy.”

You’re not sure that that counts as ‘something about him’, but you suppose that it’s technically something, nevertheless. 

“Why? Are the two of you having problems?”

He smirks. “When aren’t we?”

You choose not to reply to that.

In truth, you’ve noticed on more than one occasion the two of them arguing in the halls at school, or in the parking lot. Or one, if not both of them, seemingly in a mood in class. 

It’s simply none of your concern, and you have little interest in making it as much. 

“You don’t date, though, do you?” He asks, finishing off his second bottle. 

You begin picking at the label that’s wrapped around your own. “Not really, no.”

He leans in slightly toward you. “Can I ask why?” 

You settle back against the corner of the truck bed. “I mean no offense by this, but it seems to me that most boys our age are only interested in one thing. Then again, people say that doesn’t change for men, even as they get older. So, I guess no matter what I do, I lose.”

He grabs another bottle. “Eh, things aren’t always the greatest on our side, either. Plenty of girls are just sluts, or only get with you merely for attention, or to have you blow your money on them.”

You’re quiet for a moment, while you listen to the chirping crickets which surround you. “Is that what happened with you and her?”

He nods gently. “To an extent, yeah.”

You tilt your head back and stare up at the dark night sky and all the twinkling stars above you. 

Meanwhile, Nate stares at you in return.

“So, in other words, you’re not looking for some easy hookup, or one-night stand,” he replies.

You shake your head.

“I think that’s a rarity nowadays: to come across somebody who’s interested in something more—in a relationship with actual substance, instead of something superficial, I mean. With Maddy, everything was like some sick game to keep the both of us always on-edge.”

You turn your head to look at him. “I’m sorry.”

He twists off the cap of another bottle between his teeth, then spits it across the bed of the truck. “Me too.”

“I feel like I’m somewhere I’m not supposed to be.”

Currently, the two of you are lying down in the middle of the high school’s football field...and it’s actually rather comfortable. The grass is freshly mowed, and feels quite soft beneath you.

Nate grins and rolls his head to the side to look at you. “I can’t believe you’ve never come to one of our games before.”

You shrug and blink up at the starry night sky. “Not really my thing. I’m not exactly the ‘sporty’ type.”

He turns onto his side and he rests his head in his hand while he gazes at you. “So, what is your thing, then?”

You smile slightly, and he knows he’s finally found a way in, in terms of getting you to finally open up a little.

“You really want to know?” You ask while meeting his eyes.

He nods.

You turn onto your side excitedly. “Photography.”

He gives you an impressed look at discovering this hidden facet of your personality. “What kind? Portraits?”

You snort, as if it should be obvious that that’s not the correct answer. “No. I have no interest in capturing people, or in staring at them through a lens while they put on a mask, as if they don’t do it every other moment of their life, too.”

“Wildlife?”

You shake your head. “I think I could get into bird watching, maybe, but I feel like memorizing all their different colors and facets and chirps would be a lot of work.”

You turn back to staring up at stars. “Landscapes. Nature. Abandoned places that tell a story all on their own, even if I’ll never know what it truly is.”

A soft smile spreads across his lips at the way you talk about it. “Is that something you intend to go to college for?”

You frown slightly and shrug. “Probably not. College is expensive, and I don’t know that it’s something my family can afford. Which is fine with me. I mean, there are certain things that I don’t feel a degree is necessary for, in that you can make it without one. Like writing. Anyone can tell a story on page. And all one needs to be a photographer is a camera. Maybe a nice flash and a cheap photoshop program wouldn’t hurt, either.”

“Do you want to make a career out of it, then?”

You’re quiet for a moment. “It’s a nice thought, but I think it’ll only ever remain a hobby for me. Portraiture is where the money is. Photographing the things I do… I’d only ever make real money out of it if a magazine or online site that publishes articles hired me on, and even if I got lucky and got in somewhere like that, I doubt there’d be much money to be had. They probably pay you some one-time flat-rate fee without royalties, even if the site gets a lot of traffic and ads.”

He reaches over and brushes a stray hair from your face. “Sounds like you’ve thought a lot about it.”

You glance to him. “Some, I guess. I just like the way it makes me feel when I go out exploring and I come across something worth capturing. Or when I look back through my work and make up stories in my head about it.”

“Can I see some of them?”

You pretend to grimace and he smirks. 

“What? That bad?”

You roll your eyes, then pull your phone from your pocket. 

You open the cloud drive you have all your photos stored in and take a few minutes to find one of your favorites.

Finally, you hand the device to him.

He takes it from you—his fingers brush against your own as he does so—and he studies the picture, for a long while.

You begin to grow a bit nervous that maybe he thinks it's dumb.

Not that it makes much difference to you if he does.

Your hobby is for your enjoyment. Others' opinions on it are of no consequence to you.

“This is really good. I mean, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think a professional took it.”

You beam with pride then and he matches your smile.

He hands you your phone back then.

“So, you’re a photographer.”

You shrug. “It always makes me feel so pretentious when people say that.”

“Why?”

You sigh. “I guess because of the fact my work isn’t published anywhere.”

He sits up slightly. “So? I mean, would you tell someone who spends all their spare-time painting that they’re not a painter, just because they don’t have any of their artwork hanging up in a museum somewhere?”

You smile softly. “I’ve never thought about it like that.”

“It’d be like saying I’m not a real athlete because I only play for my high school’s football team and not the NFL. Do you think that?”

You shake your head. “Of course not.”

He smiles. "There you have it, then."

“So, it’s five minutes ‘til.”

You raise a brow in interest. “Until what?”

“Midnight,” he replies with a grin. 

“Happy New Year,” you say quietly.

He glances away, then back to you. “I, uh, I don’t mean for this to be interpreted as some sort of come-on or anything, but… I’d really like to kiss you at midnight.”

Your eyes flit between his nervously. “I don’t know…”

“Just a kiss between friends. I mean, complete fucking strangers kiss on this day every year, right? It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.”

Your brows knit together. “If I don’t? Listen, Nate, tonight has been nice. And I’ve really enjoyed—”

He cuts you off with a knowing smile. “I’m not asking you to go steady, sweetheart, I’m just offering you a kiss. We’re the only ones here. Nobody else has to know.”

He checks his phone again. “Two minutes.”

You chew your lip nervously. “So, if I say yes, do I need to worry about Maddy trying to assault me in the middle of the quad?”

He laughs lightly at that. “She’ll never know, swear to God. It’s not like we’re together right now anyway, and I don’t know that we ever will be again. I’m just trying not to think too much about her tonight.”

You rest your hands on your stomach and relent. “Okay, but just one kiss. Like a peck on the lips. Nothing more.”

He doesn’t speak his reply. Instead, he leans over you and lies his body atop your own.

Your heart skips in your chest at the feel of his heavy weight settled across your body. 

This is quickly turning into the strangest night ever. For you, at least.

He smooths hair away from your face, glances to his phone, then smiles. “Midnight.”

He leans down and presses his lips to your own.

And he gives you the very opposite of a peck. Instead, he tangles his fingers in your hair and spreads your lips open with his own before slipping his warm tongue gently inside your mouth and flicking the speared tip against yours.

Your body stiffens slightly, so he slides his free hand up your thigh before settling it against your hip, and he rubs soothing circles against it with the pad of his thumb.

He runs his tongue along your bottom lip before kissing you passionately once again.

It’s when you feel something hard pressing against your stomach that you break off the kiss and turn slightly away while laughing nervously.

“Happy New Year, sweetheart,” he whispers before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Nate would never admit to it, but for the days that follow, New Year's Eve is nearly all he's able to think about.

Spending time with you had been nice. Different, even. Well...different to what time spent with Maddy had been like, at least.

It'd been calm, with simple, truthful conversation shared between the two of you. Honesty had seemed to flow from your tongue. And honesty is a rarity in his life.

It doesn't take long for him to come to the realization that he has a crush. Even if the term seems juvenile, it's what it is. A crush.

You're beautiful, kind, easy-going, sweet, and passionate about your adorable hobby. So, who can blame him for being unable to get you off of his mind?

He begins to wonder, before long, how different his life would be at current had he gotten with you sophomore year instead of Maddy.

But, if nothing else, he's finally free of her. To an extent...

She still has that damn disc, but he knows he'll figure out how to get it back eventually. In the meantime, he intends to keep getting to know you... As deeply as possible.

[sashi-ya]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ エロチックトバー２０２４> MDNI / EXPLICIT CONTENT

VIBRATING 💦 SHINJI HIRAKO X AFAB! GN! READER ＫINKTOBER DAY 20: TOYS

🐙 Requested by: @crowniko Hello! I'd like to request Day 20. Toys. I'd like the reader to be afab gender neutral, and the character to be Hirako Shinji :) Thank you! This is my first time requesting, I hope I'm doing it right! Let me know if you need any more info and thank you again! ⚠️ tw: mdni. explicit content. usage of a vibrating bullet with a distance control. kinda public, and maybe a little bit of humiliation. 🐙 wc: 1,2k // kinktober 24 masterlist // join the taglist

Oh, captain Hirako Shinji… what is that you are bringing with you from the human world this time?  Hidden, like a forbidden treasure, Shinji brings a bag with him through Dangai. He specifically tries to keep the package out of the look of the thousand spying eyes of squad 12, even though he is sure he really can’t. 

Thankfully, he arrives at the 5th squad main building without interruptions. Shinji is eager to try whatever he is carrying on his arms with no other than you. 

“Speaking of the devil” he chants, playfully with a tint of perversion.

“Why am I the devil, Shinji?” you grunt, stopping right on your feet to pay attention to your lover -and captain-.

“Cause you are bad, bad shinigami” he jokes, pulling you closer against his chest. 

You giggle; there’s nothing funnier than Shinji when he is trying to sound sexy… if he only knew he is sexy just by existing… 

“And, since you are a bad, bad officer… what about you come with me to my room? I have something to show you ~” 

He pulls from your hand. All the way through the halls of the barracks he had been silent but giggling. 

You squint your eyes; he has just been to the human world and that only means he has brought something new… something dangerously interesting. 

Once inside, he lets you go on first into his room. Shinji closes the door with his body, allowing his back to lay over it. He looks at you underneath his asymmetrical bangs, smirking so perverted… 

“I’m scared” you murmur, sitting on his bed.

“Oh, you should be…” he laughs, giving you the black bag he’s been carrying for you to open. 

When tauntingly your fingertips touch a soft, silicone texture you take off your hand from the bag. Wondering what could that be, you take a swift look at Shinji who encourages to keep going. And so, you do. 

You take one of the very phallic instruments out of the bag, discovering it is, indeed, a dick shaped silicone thing.

“What the actual fuck is this, Hirako Shinji?” you ask, never once you’ve seen such weird replica of a man’s organ. You are not a very old soul, but still these types of things weren’t nor aren’t a thing in the district you are from. Soul Society lives in both a very old period compared to humanity, with high technology they will never imagine having. 

“That, my sweet one, is a sexual toy. And, it is meant to be used during… sex. I visited a so called “Sex shop” this time and couldn’t help but buy some” he comments, informing you of something you clearly already intuited. 

“Wonderful purchase, my sweet Shinji…” you sigh, putting back the “toy” into the bag. If he thinks you are changing his sex for a piece of plastic, he is absolutely wrong. 

Shinji comes closer, he noticed you might not like the idea. He knows you more than anyone else… 

“This is just to add more fun; you know that? In any case I will never stop fucking you, my dear… why don’t we try first this little thing here?” he says, taking a little bullet like device in between his hands. 

“Fine… where do I put this?” you ask, still unaware of the great time that’s waiting for you ahead… 

You squirm. You bite your lip. And you take a deep breath. 

you shouldn’t have trusted Shinji with this… wearing something inside you. That also vibrates whenever he presses a little button in his hand. While being in public is probably one of the worst -and best- things you’ve acceded to do. 

In line with all the other squad five seats, you try to cover up your burning cheeks. A drop of sweat falls through your temple, your knuckles white as you press your hands together… 

Shinji’s smirk grows bigger, his hands placed on the small of his back hide the controller of that vibrating bullet you got inside you. From time to time he pulses the start button, enjoying how your knees press together. And then, when he notices you are about to lose it, he stops just to start again at maximum power. 

A torture, a pleasing torture…

“Are you ok, (Name)?” Lt. Hinamori asks, noticing your restlessness. 

“Huh?! Yea- yeah! I’m just… tired” you lie, whispering low while standing in line as your captain speaks and gives the guidelines for today’s duties. 

Momo frowns, but ultimately she chooses to believe in your words.

“You should be deployed to have some rest” she adds,  walking off your side to reach for your captain. 

You open your eyes as big as watermelons, as you see her standing right next to Shinji, ready to tell him something about you. 

Shinji smirks, more and more devilishly once he is done with the speech, giving you at least a couple of seconds of relief. 

Momo comments something you cannot hear, and Shinji looks at you while she does. This time he has become serious, as if he was mad. And soon he starts talking again. 

“Come on, all of you. Work time” he commands the rest to leave, however when it comes to you he calls you with a beckoning finger to his and Momo’s side. 

You are able to walk without feeling that little bullet vibrate inside you, and for some seconds you think Shinji has finally put a stop in such cruel game. 

But you, my dear, were absolutely wrong… 

“So, Momo is telling me you are tired?” he asks, waiting until you speak to press the start button on. 

“Yeeeeee- yes!” you say, too loud to sound normal. “Ca-can I please go and HAVE SOME REST?”  you continue, straightening your back with muscles tensing and almost climaxing. 

“You may leave, (Name)… don’t go too far, though…” he laughs.

You nod, passing your hand through your sweated neck. You know exactly what that means, for the culmination of this “toy” adventure you will need to wait for him. 

Reaching his office, you wait for him. Obediently, you don’t take your bullet off you. The wait becomes eternal until a buzzing sensation hits your body again. This time, your nails carve on the side of his desk… this has been the strongest level you have experienced yet… what is happening in the world of the living? Why do they produce this? 

“Missed me?” he asks, closing the door. 

You turn around, nodding with sloppy eyes and needy façade. “I missed you…” 

Shinji smiles, this time with eyes of pure lust and desire instead of just devilishly intentions.

“Enough with that thing inside you, it’s my turn to feel you around my dick babe ~” 

Taglist of amazing babes: @awas-posts @missfuriosa @theneighbourhoodferret @cyberdazetragedy @ariesbbytings @animesnowstorm @lenablack9919

[silverflqmes]

hihi ellie ! i was wondering if i could request hcs with sugawara with a gymnast!reader (self projecting but i wanna see what ur thoughts on it are like <3) gn please <3 love u lots /p

໒⦂ 𝐆𝐘𝐌𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐂𝐒.

notes. hi hi luma, my memories of gymnastics and terms has diminished over the years bc i stopped at a young age, but i’ll try my best with this🫡

genre. fluff + crack

for @kurolumiis <3

koshi sugawara x gn!reader.

⌗ sugawara definitely finds a way of balancing volleyball along with attending your meets ( i think this is the term.. )

⌗ loves to see you in your leotards all dressed up and sparkling, you’re like a shining star to him, certainly under the glow of the stadium lights<3

⌗ either made or purchased good luck charms for you to keep with you at any competitions you might have, especially if he cannot be there himself — but he tries his best to be!

⌗ should he have the time, he gets up extra early and prepares a nice meal for you to take with you if it’s an away tournament that he can’t attend, how sweet<3

⌗ your number one cheerleader!! i mean, have you seen him in the scene where he was like YAMAGUUUUCH, IPPON NICE SERVE!! yeah that’s him but cheering you on instead.. minus volleyball terms BUT DOES THAT SILLY MAGICAL GIRL POSE LMAO

⌗ he’s so proud of you out there he’s like YES THAT’S MY BABY OUT THERE SLAYING THE COMPETITION!! while holding a camera and recording BAH

⌗ helps you stretch if you’re sore and spots you if you’re practicing after hours and you don’t have someone to catch your limbs or prevent you from getting hurt in any way

⌗ SHOULD you get hurt, however, he’s got the first aid kit ready and you will likely get scolded for not being careful but it’s just him being worried about you cuz he doesn’t like seeing you hurt</3

⌗ loves when you attend his games, even if he isn’t on court 100% of the time, but y’know, appreciates it nonetheless cuz it displays you care for his interests as much as he does for yours

⌗ there was a leotard once that you were eyeing but was a little ( a lot ) out of your price range.. you had wanted it for your nationals, too, since you had gotten in — so sugawara surprised you with a nicely wrapped box once the results were in that you would be going, and it was none other than the leotard you were eyeing that day<3

⌗ out of curiosity, he asked you one day to teach him some things — i mean, the man can jump so high?? it’d be a shame not to try some stuff out..

⌗ and so you agreed to his request, finding it silly that he wanted to try what you do

⌗ it was safe to say that it was easier watching than actually doing.. and that trampolines made stunts MUCH EASIER THAN GYM MATS DID.

⌗ koshi still managed to do something from what you taught him, and albeit it a stunt as simplistic as running into a cartwheel going into a front handspring — it still warmed your heart that he took interest in what you do

⌗ it was also funny at times to hear him yelp cuz he was literally upside down for some things you had him try out LMAO

⌗ in return, after doing some much needed stretches to not have his body absolutely destroyed for practice the next morning, you had offered to try out his volleyball drills.

⌗ how hard could spiking be? ( if you’re short like me and aren’t the highest jumper — hard. but not as hard as blocking😵‍💫 although with timing it’s not as difficult.. )

⌗ it wasn’t as easy as it appeared from a distance, but it was still fun to do! a few sets later it would become a little more easier, and sugawara tossed in a way that was feasible enough for you to hit

⌗ brings you flowers on every competition, whether you win or lose he still brings them because you did really well out there regardless or the results!

⌗ just as he cheered for you during your meets, of course you also cheered for him during his like duh?? anytime he felt himself growing nervous — or the odds of winning had become close to zero, there you were lighting up his way<3

notes. that went a lot quicker than expected, i forget how easy hcs are LMAO but i hope you enjoyed luma<3 hearts to you from me /p and sugawara<3

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

[antebunny]

IRONY

(Or: my take on a post Red Robin Dick & Tim reconciliation. Because they love each other so much, and that's why it hurts).

-

Tim can admit, once an alert pops up on his computer and he immediately opens up the live feed of Dick’s kitchen, that there’s some cruel, bitter irony in what he’s doing. Also quite a few broken laws, and bent morals, and some icky stuff which he would not like Dick to find out about. Inserting surveillance cameras and trackers all over your loved one’s property, after all, is Bad Sibling Behavior. After so long spent trying to be a good sibling, Tim is hardly going to admit what he’s doing to anyone else.

Because he’s stalking Dick. 

Like a creepy little obsessed fan. Or a creepy villain-adjacent stalker. Like a ten-year-old Timmy Drake. He never thought he’d be doing it again as eighteen-year-old Tim Drake. Nonetheless, he stalks and tracks and surveils Dick from afar without ever talking to him. It’s like old times. Jason is even alive again. Except that instead of Tim stalking the Bats because he was a lonely little ten-year-old left to rot in a huge mansion with no concept of privacy or boundaries, he’s a less-lonely eighteen-year-old who knows far too much about Dick Grayson. Too much because far too much has gone down between them for Tim to just…talk to the guy. It’s impossible. Definitely impossible. 

Tim misses the days of late night ice creams, arms resting on his head or slung over his back, trading skateboard tricks for tumbling tricks. He aches for those days with a hunger he didn’t know was possible after a childhood spent starving for affection. 

But they can never go back.

Which is why Tim learns that Dick isn’t taking his meds because his surveillance equipment detected a change in behavior. Dick usually goes to his kitchen, breaks out orange juice or soda or some energy drink from the fridge, and takes his meds. Tonight he did not. Tim doesn’t know what the meds are for, he’s not that much of an invasive creep. It’s enough to know that Dick is getting treatment. And Tim doesn’t have to talk to Dick to find out how he’s doing. It’s enough to stalk him from afar to check on his well-being. 

Now the question is: what can Tim do about it? He can’t ask Dick himself. That’s obviously out of the question. Dick would listen to Damian, but the brat resents Tim’s very existence, so best not try that route. Dick would listen to Jason, but Red Hood barely tolerates Tim nowadays, and Tim isn’t interested in owing him a huge favor for something he really should do himself, so not him either. Dick would maybe, maybe listen to Bruce, but that’s hit-or-miss. 

Tim calls Barbara. 

“I need a favor,” he says as soon as she picks up. “Are you alone?”

“Yes,” Barbara replies, immediately business-like. “What’s up?”

Tim spins around in his swivel chair. Best purchase for his lair by far. “Not cape stuff, sort of, or imminently pressing, well, it’s pressing, I just needed to make sure no one’s listening in.”

“As sure as I can ever be,” Barbara confirms dryly. Answer: there’s always a chance, in the Bats’ paranoid minds, that someone is eavesdropping. But according to Oracle, she’s in the clear, and it really doesn’t get better than that.

“So, don’t ask me how I know this,” Tim prefaces, knowing she’s about to find out about his surveillance cameras in Dick’s apartment (if she hasn’t already), “but Dick didn’t take his meds last night. I don’t know what they are, so I dunno how bad it is that he skipped, and I don’t wanna pry into your, uh, relationship with him but–”

“Dick and I aren’t talking right now,” Barbara says flatly.

So, they’re in the off-again part of their on-again, off-again relationship. Most of the time Tim is rooting for them. Sometimes he thinks they should do what he and Steph did and settle into a best friends for life relationship. 

“Right.” On his next rotation, Tim catches himself on the edge of his table. He taps one hand on the clear surface and thinks of possibilities. “Do you think he would listen to B–”

“No.”

“Right.” Tim tries not to sigh and fails. “Okay, uh. Jason?”

“Jason can’t keep a secret.”

Which is sort of unfair to Jason, but keeping a secret is relative. Compared to Barbara and Tim, Jason can’t keep a secret. And Tim is not one to argue if someone’s making fun of Jason.

“Cass? No. Same problem.” 

It’s against her very nature to lie. If Cass does hold a secret, it is by accident. Tim doesn’t want to leave this up to chance. This was easier when they had Alfred to mediate. 

Tim starts spinning in his chair again. His room whirls past. “What about his friends? Kori or Wally or…literally any of them?”

“I don’t see,” Barbara says, “why you’re avoiding the obvious solution of asking him yourself. He’d listen to you.”

He’ll listen to you. What a heavy, crushing promise to make. You have the trust of Nightwing. Nightwing, admired by the entire superhero community. It’s true, maybe, probably. That Dick will listen to Tim. He’s mostly sure of that now, after everything. That’s the problem, really. The “after everything” part of Tim’s confidence. Their trust is not from years of steady partnership, or slowly developed siblinghood. The trust Tim has in Dick originates from months of silence, of terribly intimate understanding, of shared grief and one horrible, nausea-inducing day. 

Dick hates when people leave him and when people fall and he can’t catch them. People don’t usually leave Dick Grayson, but Tim left and then he fell and Dick caught him. So Dick will listen, probably, maybe, if only because he doesn’t want Tim to leave. And Tim can’t ask, knowing that they don’t have the nice, easy brotherhood they ought to, the companionship siblings should have. Knowing Dick is only listening because he wants to keep Tim around. That’s the sort of fake compassion Tim spent his life running from. It’s not empathy, it’s sympathy. 

A vicious little voice that sounds like Janet Drake tells Tim that he should shut up and suck it up and accept whatever Dick gives him, because he’ll never be worthy of anything more. Tim slams his head into walls to shut that voice up. He won’t accept it. He cannot. He must not. 

“You’re not talking to him, are you.” Barbara’s voice has a tinge of that shaking-your-head condescension that drives Tim up the walls. The tone that carries that undercurrent of, why are you making this so hard, Tim? As if it’s so easy. As if everything that fractured Tim and Dick’s relationship is so easily repairable. 

Of course, Tim can’t explain that to Barbara. It sounds pathetic, even to himself.

“Bold words, coming from you,” Tim retorts.

Barbara sighs. “Look. At this point Damian has the best communication with Dick. And unless you have a way of tricking Damian into–huh.”

Tim, whose manipulative, stalkery little brain went in the exact same direction as hers, echoes her exclamation. “Oh. Yeah. Hm. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Unfortunately,” Barbara says, voice dry as the desert Tim was reborn in, “yes.”

The Belfry, a secret headquarters perfectly unobtrusive in Gotham’s old gothic and industrial skyline, was built by Tim and Barbara shortly after Bruce’s return. Since it’s so much newer than the Clock Tower, its inhabitants are not yet established. Where the Clock Tower houses the Birds of Prey, and Barbara’s friends in general, the Belfry sees a small but wide-ranging group of heroes coming in and out. Dick, Cass and Steph are the only other Bats to be allowed in.

Tonight, a little eleven-year-old boy crouches in the welcome darkness of one of the many nooks and crannies, dagger in his hands, and pretends with all his might that he belongs. 

“…at least wrap it,” Barbara is saying as she disengages the many, many security systems and enters the many passwords to get into the Belfry. 

“What’s the point?” Tim argues. “It’s not like–”

Both he and Barbara freeze. Tim raises a hand slowly to his belt. Barbara fingers one of the many buttons on her wheelchair. He gestures her to the left. They’re caught in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling windows. With ceilings as high as a warehouse (it’s a bell tower, after all), those windows are high indeed. 

And then–

“Oracle. Red.” Damian emerges from the darkness like the little gremlin that he is, chin held high in his Robin uniform while he omits the Robin part of Tim’s new superhero name. “I have been here long enough that I could’ve killed both of you. How careless of you to not notice.”

Translation: Damian had been hoping to go unnoticed for longer.

“Here, where you most definitely do not have access,” Barbara points out. She wheels closer now that they know it’s just Robin.

Tim, while Damian is distracted with Barbara, sidles over to a table as stealthily as he knows how and sets down his package. 

“Clearly, your security standards are in need of upgrading,” Damian sniffs. Then his eyes narrow as he notices what Tim is doing. “Drake. What is that package.”

“None of your business,” Tim snaps back immediately. He moves to cover it with his back. “Get out of here. Invites only, you weren’t invited, you know how it is.”

Damian folds his hands behind his back and raises his nose. “It is for Grayson.”

“For Christ’s–how did you know?” Barbara demands.

“You just confirmed it,” Damian replies smugly.

Barbara rolls her eyes. “Okay. Fine. It’s for Dick. Happy now?”

“No.” Damian marches up to Tim, then folds his arms, dagger and all, over his chest when Tim blocks his path to the package. “Tell me what you are giving to Grayson.”

Tim leans back against the table and folds his own arms over his chest, affecting a casual state of relaxation he absolutely does not feel. “I said, none of your business.” 

In truth, there’s something so heart-breakingly ten-years-old about Damian’s behavior. His cool older brother is part of a cool group of friends with a secret hideout that Damian is not allowed into. Of course he broke into it. Damian, under all his bluster and bravado, wants to be a part of it all. He’s only human. He’s only eleven years old.

“You may be poisoning him,” Damian insists.

Tim laughs. “That’s more your wheelhouse, isn’t it?”

Seems like Damian hasn’t yet heard the saying your wheelhouse, because he scowls but doesn’t respond. Oddly enough, Tim feels worse about that than he does about the actual insult. Kids are not their parents or the secret assassin society they come from, he knows, he knows this. Yet this intellectual knowledge always flies out the window in favor of emotional responses when it comes to Damian. 

“It’s not,” Barbara interrupts, before they can come to blows. “It’s just something to make him feel better, since he stopped taking his meds. Now will you leave?”

Damian scowls again, this time resembling an angry kitten more than a fearsome assassin. Not that he ever has resembled a fearsome assassin, despite all the assassination attempts. For all the pent-up resentment and bitter anger Tim has about Damian, he can’t help but find the kid a little cute. 

(The thing is, back before everything, Tim really wanted a little sibling. Back before everything, Tim used to dream about Jason coming back).

(Isn’t it funny how the universe keeps giving Tim what he wants just to spite him?)

“Fine.” Damian glares at both of them in turn. “Since both of you are so incompetent in taking care of Grayson, I will do it.” 

And he sweeps out of the Belfry with all the righteous fury that an eleven-year-old can muster. 

Tim and Barbara finally make eye contact after Barbara ensures, using the Belfry’s surveillance cameras, that Damian has exited the building for good. Then they both burst into laughter. The rafters ring with the force of it, pealing like the bells on Sunday morning. Barbara slaps her knee. Tim leans back on the table, hands clasped over his stomach, and shakes.

“I can’t believe,” Barbara says, once she’s calmed down enough to get a proper sentence out, “that we just tricked a kid into doing our dirty work for us.”

“Hey, if it works,” Tim says, voice full of mirth. 

He easily identifies himself as an adult despite only recently turning eighteen. It is impossible to feel like a child, he reasons, after waking up in the desert. After running Wayne Industries, however briefly. After striking out on his own. After everything.

Perhaps that’s why he gets along so well with Barbara these days. She understands that he is not a kid anymore, even if she wasn’t there for everything. Dick, on the other hand, still sees Tim as the kid he was. (As Robin). As the Before Everything Tim Drake that the real Tim is getting so very tired of thinking about. So what if he misses all of it, the good and the ugly? That’s just the nostalgia speaking. That’s just part of growing up. Tim had to grow up fast, so he did. He did what he had to do and he won’t let himself regret it.

[nanshii-doruu]

RANKING NANCY DREW GAMES BY ACCOMMODATION: A VERY SUBJECTIVE LIST

Recently I’ve been enjoying vote4holt’s YouTube ND game rankings. He covers the major aspects of each game: story, characters, puzzles, music, atmosphere and endings, with one big final ranking video at the end. It covers most aspects of the game, but it got me thinking: what other things can we rank the games on? I mean, you can make a list about damn near anything that’s featured in all the games, but one thing that always gets my attention is accommodation. I’m very interested in temporary accommodation from a thematic standpoint, and I’m actually working on a book which will be a collection of my hotel stories, half of which are real, and half of which are made up. Nancy’s adventures definitely inspired some of it.

IMPORTANT NOTES

I haven’t played MID or KEY, so they aren’t ranked. I might add them when I get around to it. Also, I haven’t played a couple of these games for a while and/or I’ve played them only once, so some factual errors may be present. I welcome corrections and/or comments!

I will be evaluating the accommodations based on several factors: comfort, aesthetic, security, and how irritating any roommates you have might be.

There are actually three categories of accommodation. They are: Not Relevant (i.e. we don’t know where Nancy is staying); Limited Info (i.e. we know where Nancy is saying but we don’t see it in its entirety); and Luxuriously Demonstrated (i.e. we see Nancy’s room and can interact with it). You might be wondering: how can you rank places you can’t see? Easy – I’m going to predict what the accommodation MIGHT be like, and rank based on vibes!

These are going to be VERY biased to my taste. There are several things I value in accommodation that you may feel differently about. I am no outdoorsman, and I value comfort, privacy and safety in my temporary accommodation, with cool aesthetics following swiftly behind. Therefore, these values will inform my list. I didn’t realise this would be the case so much when I started it, but it became clear as I started writing. That’s not a bad thing per se – in fact, I hope you vehemently disagree with a few of these! Tell me what you think!

Finally, I tried very hard not to let my feelings about the actual games slip in, but it becomes inevitable at some points. Atmosphere is a big part of this ranking, and a lot of my favourite games have good atmosphere. That said, this is in no way a ranking of my favourite games.

I will overuse the word “cosy”. Also, I’m a yapper, so this is LONG.

All right? Let’s go!

NOT RELEVANT

The Final Scene – I’m imagining a regular corporate-style hotel for this, and honestly?  I’m into that. I might as well reveal this now: I LOVE hotels. Even the most boring hotel is magical for me still. I think it’s because I never stayed in hotels frequently as a child (all our holidays were in rented cabins/houses, not hotels), and I don’t have a job that allows travel with hotel stays. Consequently, a hotel is an enormous treat, even the most basic place. Oh, someone will change my linens FOR me? Incredible! There’s a clean bathroom? How wondrous! A continental breakfast? Ambassador, you are spoiling us! Hotels can be kind of a nightmare for some people, because it’s stressful to be out of your home, and if you have concerns about hygiene and security then I’m sure it’s even more stressful. Still, I think there’s something slightly wonderful about a room that’s only yours temporarily.

Labyrinth of Lies – history may show I’m not overly enamoured with this game, but you know what? I’ve mellowed a bit over time. I haven’t replayed it (no way to redownload my original purchase and I’m not inclined to spend money on it again), but I think @aniceworld had a point in his game ranking. It’s probably intended to be magical realist, and it’s far from the worst offender in the unrealistic category. I stand by the opinion that this era of the series is too self-serious to get away with the extent of wacky nonsense the premise needs to work, but the game probably wasn’t worth the dragging I gave it. All the same, I have no plans to replay it lol. ANYWAY. We don’t know Nancy’s digs in this game, but based on previous entries I’m willing to bet her accommodation was either a) whatever the Greek equivalent of a Motel 6 is b) an unrealistically gorgeous boutique hotel with fabulous mosaics and views overlooking the Aegean sea or wherever we’re meant to be or c) a homestay with a quirky Greek family consisting of a stressed out mother, her cheerful father in law and her precocious young scamp of a son, all of whom need us to do culturally-enriching errands constantly. Fingers crossed for Nancy’s sake it was b).

Secret of the Old Clock – we never find out where Nancy is staying despite the setting being an inn. Was she staying here? I don’t entirely remember, but I don’t think so. The inn looks great, but given the circumstances it’s probably best that Nancy stay off-property. Fuck it, she’s staying at the Deer Mountain Resort. I’m picturing it kind of like Old Faithful Inn, even though I know that’s nonsense geographically speaking – historic, charming, outdoorsy and cosy.

GIVES US LIMITED INFO

Trail of the Twister – this is of a genre of places to stay I like to call “staircase with nothing to see at the top”. As a scientific observation post, the rooming situation here is likely spartan and utilitarian. I’m picturing camp beds with sleeping bags on top, or else some kind of bunkbed scenario a la DED. This would actually be kinda fun if any of the characters in TOT were in any way the kind of people you’d enjoy having a sleepover with. I guess between WAC and SAW, Her had overspent their ability to create characters who were actually interesting – or who at the very least, had interesting interactions with each other. Top asshole prize goes to the loathsome Debbie, who manages to be both boring and annoying, with her constant “Nancy! Time to go to bed!” whenever she’s done running you ragged for the day. This could have (theoretically) been a fun, cosy place to stay while you watch storms from the window, and instead it’s just sort of nothing. Kind of a microcosm for the game.

The Haunting of Castle Malloy – trying not to let my thoughts about the game infect this one, so I’m trying to imagine a version of Castle Malloy that somehow doesn’t include Kyler Mallory. It’s much nicer. Anyway, the vibes here are of course immaculate, but that doesn’t necessarily make it a nice place to stay. It’s probably dank and draughty in the castle – Kyler calls the tapestries mouldy and it’s hard to know if she’s exaggerating. I can believe it. I bet Nancy’s bed was suspiciously damp. 

Sea of Darkness – the inn looks nice enough in a practical, backpacker sort of way, but this one loses points for the very real and horrifying possibility that Nancy is sleeping in one of those eight-bunk hostel rooms. On its own this is a fine way to spend a trip and I too have indulged in the ol’ mystery roommate selection pack game, but I am on entirely the wrong side of 30 for this to hold any appeal any more.

Ghost Dogs of Moon Lake – we see the cabin, and we can adjust the time, but I’m taking points off because we don’t see Nancy’s room. Still, based on the rest of the cabin, it’s hard to believe it’s anything more than a basic sleeping bag on an uncomfortable mattress. Did you ever do activity trips in school? I had to go on a couple. I remember the mattresses being basically the same as those mats you have in gym class, blue and shiny and full of foam. If I tried to sleep on one now it would turn my spine into a loose stack of pebbles. I’m convinced that the bed in DOG is exactly this brand of discomfort. Oh, and I bet you have to go outside to use a terrible chemical toilet, and there’s no shower and you have to use one of those solar backpack ones that weighs the same as a hefty toddler. This is probably a 10/10 for people who love the off-the-grid experience, but much lower for those who do not care for it (me. I’m those). I do like the idea of a cabin in the woods, but this is a bit too rustic for me. At least it’s private.

Secrets Can Kill – okay full disclaimer, I haven’t played the original OR the remake, hence the low rating. I am simply not convinced I would enjoy it. Based on YouTube playthroughs though… boy is Aunt Eloise’s apartment hard on the eyes. I’m actually willing to go easy on them though because I think I can imagine the look they were going for (that sort of 80s/90s American Victorian Nancy Meyer look that looked a bit better in STD and MHM) and I actually like that aesthetic, so I’m chalking it up to graphical limitations. In the remake they really did stick to those acidy colours rather than go for more subdued jewel tones though, so idk. Aunt Eloise is probably a very unforgiving host, and I bet the whole place smells like band-aids. OH and I was going to avoid the whole “haha it’s the worst cos it’s in Florida” thing cos that’s some low-hanging oranges, but actually I think this kind of interior design (fussy upholstery, heavy wood, carpets) would be pretty hard to deal with in a climate like Florida’s. Literally the only reason this beats DOG is because an indoor bathroom is a deal-breaker for me, and I simply do not believe the cabin has one. THEN AGAIN, if Aunt Eloise’s personality is anything like her decoration taste, maybe pissing in a ditch ain’t that bad.

Stay Tuned For Danger – Mattie’s apartment has a similar aesthetic to Aunt Eloise’s apartment, but it does look a bit nicer. I’m giving it a higher score because I’ll take a fancy NY apartment over one in Florida any day.*

*apologies to any Floridians, I have visited many times and I love you guys, but dear lord your climate is a lot to deal with.

Ransom of the Seven Ships – listen I suffered half of this game only once so my recollection isn’t amazing and my hackles were immediately up when I started thinking about this one. But you have to admit, a beach resort on a tropical island sounds incredible on paper. And it should be, really – an eco resort? Snorkelling, animals, and sick-ass sunken ships to explore? Sounds incredible! I don’t believe we actually confirm where the gang’s rooms are, but the resort looks lovely (and it’s not like I can buy the game again to check). Now, the lack of owners or staff? Not so lovely. If I recall correctly it’s explained as the off-season, but still – there should be SOME people around, even if just for maintenance (like, what the entire plot of The Shining is hinged on). This would have actually made for a small cast of intriguing suspects. Why didn’t Her do this???? Now I’m just getting mad about the game. Hackles up again.

Creature of Kapu Cave – not all that dissimilar to the last in that both are beach resorts, I suppose, but the culture is obviously different. This one only gains points for having an actually staffed resort, and because the place is beautiful despite all the nonsense the game throws at us – though it loses some as well for the inherent scumminess of the Hawai’ian tourist industry. Having said that, if we were to dissect the scumminess of all tourist industries present in the games, we’d be here for a long-ass time.

Danger By Design – another of Nancy’s apartment shares, this time with Jing Jing Ling. Again this one gets points for location alone. Call me a cliché but I do love Paris – as with all big cities you need to drop your preconceptions and go with what the place is giving you, and you will always have a good time. Place Monge is a nice area, and it’s right next to the Jardin des Plantes and the National Museum of Natural History, two of my favourite spots. The apartment itself is perfectly nice, maybe a little dark but still a lot prettier than a fashion model would reasonably have – though its main appeal is definitely the constant smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. JJ would be a pretty difficult roommate, though. Entertaining as a compulsive liar can be, there would come a point where she pretended she had no idea what happened to the jambon beurre in the fridge that you were saving for lunch today, and the friendship would be over.

Secret of Shadow Ranch – even if you’re not outdoorsy, there’s still a lot to like about Shadow Ranch! The charmingly eclectic interior design, the beautiful Native American arts and crafts, and one thing that all good accommodations should have – a kitchen! Shorty’s creepiness aside, there’s nothing cosier than whipping up dinner in a big, comfy kitchen as the sun goes down, fire crackling in the grate, friends gathered around to hear a ghost story… We don’t get to see the bedroom (and in fact, there’s no real logical place for it to be – there’s no door inside that could lead to it, so you must have to go outside to get to the bedrooms?) but I’m picturing beautifully carved wooden headboards and more of those cosy blankets. The established risk of rattlesnakes and scorpions in the room does give me pause, but the vibes are too immaculate to rank the ranch any lower.

Legend of the Crystal Skull – aight I can fully admit this is so high up because of how much I’m using my imagination to fill in the gaps. From Bess’s POV we see a gorgeous balcony overlooking some primo New Orleans real estate. It’s raining, it’s pouring, it’s ambient, and the only thing we know for a fact is that Bess had a great bubble bath there. Ooohoooohohooooo. What an enticing picture you paint, Her. I imagine the hotel to be one of those old-world turn-of-the-century Belle Epoque builds with a renovated interior – y’know, smooth dark wood and soft white sheets, waffle robes, the whole shebang. The thing that really pushes it up, though, is the weather. Two of my fondest hotel memories involve storms, and they also both happened in the USA – one at the Omni Parker Hotel in Boston, and one at the Royal Pacific in Universal Orlando. In both instances it was raining heavily, with thunder and lightning filling the sky, so going out wasn’t an option. Both times me and my compadres got snacks, put on a podcast, and kicked back and watched the storm until it passed. I imagine Nancy and Bess did this the night after Nancy closed the case.

Last Train to Blue Moon Canyon – this made-up scenario JUST beats out my made-up CRY scenario because it’s a train. It’s a fuckin railway car, from an era when railway cars still looked beautiful.* We’re moving through the night with a mystery to solve… but wouldn’t it be nice to retreat to our cabin instead? Wouldn’t it be dreamy to retire to a vintage rail cabin? It’s a dark night and our route is so scenic, so wouldn’t you rather get into the soft, comfy bed by the window, lie back, and watch the landscape pass by moonlight? If you’ve never done a night train before – do it. It’s a wonderful travel experience. I’ve only done two, and both were somewhat utilitarian (Amsterdam to Prague, which I loved but our two adjoining cabins had slightly less space than your average sardine tin; and Edinburgh to London on the Caledonian Sleeper, which was fancier but still not Orient Express class). Being rocked to sleep by the motion of the train… nothing like it in this world. I imagine the train in TRN is meant to be more on the level of super luxury trains, like the modern Venice Simplon Orient Express, or the Seven Stars in Kyushu. It’s not a modern train so the amenities wouldn’t be up to these luxury experiences, but the atmosphere alone would be more than worth it (and, as Lori is meant to be wealthy or at least connected – who knows! Maybe she had it updated).

*This is of course a joke. All railway cars are beautiful.

LUXURIOUSLY DEMONSTRATED

Alibi in Ashes – this is ranked lowest because as far as I’m concerned it doesn’t count. This is Nancy’s home (and it’s very nice). In terms of the actual mystery, Nancy has some not great accommodation in the form of the jail cell.

The Shattered Medallion – it’s only fitting that this wet fart of a game has accommodation to match. We’re camping, and I’m trying to let my venomous hatred of camping slide – and I really think I could, if only the game had been good. If a game like SHA or CUR had Nancy sleeping in a tent I could have forgiven a lot for the sake of atmosphere, but this game has no such grace. It’s not even AESTHETIC.

Tomb of the Lost Queen – there are a few things that make this accommodation very unappealing, and they are: camping (subjective on my part I know, but c’mon. I assume no one camps because they think it’s comfortable); sharing with strangers (generally high risk, but especially in a Nancy Drew game, where you could be sleeping mere feet from someone who will shank you for the slightest gain); and the environment (dear lord I would be dead in minutes here. I’m a white Celtic redhead, I am not MADE for the desert. I am made for rain, pillaging, and carving strange things into rock). Still, all things considered, there are bedframes here, the canvas looks sturdy enough, and your tentmates aren’t as bad as they could be (Debbie).

The Ghost of Thornton Hall – one of the best games, but Nancy’s set up is not ideal. She has a sleeping bag in a decaying mansion, with prime views of Charlotte’s haunted door. It’s a gothic fantasy, but it’s not going to be comfortable in person. No word on the toilet/shower sitch, but you just know it was awful. 

Secret of the Scarlet Hand – a regular, boring hotel, but tbh I love that (see above). I bet the aircon was bountiful and the continental breakfast slapped.

Danger on Deception Island – another great game where the sleeping setup is pretty bad. Staying on a boat, sharing a tiny cupboard with Katie Firestone (whomst I do not find very compelling, if you do then god speed), and you have to sleep in sleeping bags head-to-head? Nope. The toilet/shower situation definitely sucks. It’s probably a good thing that we never see Nancy turn in for the night, otherwise I do not doubt that Katie would have an insane sleep hygiene routine and Nancy would fantasise about strangling her in the night. Still, the vibes are great, and I’m sure many of us have dreamed of living in a boat.

The Curse of Blackmoor Manor – my bias is entering here and I can fully admit that. There are a few “Nancy stays in a luxury bedroom” games, and this one might be my least favourite. It’s mainly because Blackmoor Manor is so fuckin’ ugly. I’ve joked about this before, but even as upper-class old-school maximalist households go (and there are a lot of them IRL), Blackmoor Manor is SPECTACULARLY hideous. I know some of the ugliness is part of the puzzles, but omg HER you couldn’t have made the entryway less of an eyesore? The hallways more aesthetically pleasing? Nancy’s room less of the kind of space you’d avoid if you were having a migraine? It seems like the bed is nice, and we can get food delivered (which I always like in a game), but the constant interruption of Nancy’s sleep really pulls this one down.

The Phantom of Venice – while the idea of a plush hotel room in the Floating City is certainly appealing, I fear that the design didn’t really hit a home run here. IMHO the décor of Nancy’s room is WAY too dark and heavy for somewhere like Venice, and I find that offputting. This would definitely work in some games – in fact, if this had been Nancy’s room in CUR, I would be a happy camper. Still, you can’t say it isn’t luxurious. I’m sure plenty of people love this one, but the lowish ranking is because I don’t think the aesthetic suits the area, or even the game, particularly well.

Warnings at Waverly Academy – as anyone who has lived in a dorm can testify, dorm living can actually be very nice. Waverly Academy is gorgeous, though probably somewhat plusher than what actual boarding school dorms look like. My only experience is doing summer day camp at a couple of boarding schools as a kid, and generally I think rooms tend to have more than two occupants and be pretty aesthetically underwhelming, even when the main school building is gorgeous. Anyway, the rooms in WAC seem pleasant, cosy and full of creature comforts, but (as with TOT) it really ultimately hinges on who your roommate is. And Corinne is… well, sort of a lot. She doesn’t quite hit the heights of irritating quite like some characters do (Debbie), but I also feel like she’d keep breaking the silence as you tried to sleep by asking “so, do you think I’m cool?” or “haha guess what Nancy it’s past midnight, it’s tomorrow!”

The Deadly Device – I’ve never stayed at a research lab, but if I ever do, I really hope it looks like this one. The bunkbed looks peaceful and comfy, there’s a private bathroom, and the rec room honestly seems great. If it weren’t for the mystery at hand, I’d enjoy myself napping, cooking and playing Aggregate here.

The Haunted Carousel – another bland hotel, though we see a little more of this one and (as I’ve said) I’m kind of enamoured with these. As in, I have deliberately played this game while staying in hotels like this, to enhance the ambience. I don’t know, I guess I was wired wrong. The room service menu really brings this one up, though – cheeseburgers and pasta (the two best foods of all time) straight to the door? It’s all I dream of. You also have the option of burning the whole thing down, which is a bold move on the developers’ part.

The Silent Spy – well, here we have the closest I’ve ever come to staying in a bona fide ND location. The station in the game is, I’m fairly certain, inspired by a mixture of Glasgow Queen Street (has some of those smaller archways that lead to the platforms, and leads onto a main square) and Glasgow Central (older brick station with a hotel attached). The IRL hotel attached to Glasgow Central is the Voco Grand Central Glasgow, and it does bear some resemblance to Glaucus Lodge in architecture and interior design. My room was nothing like Nancy’s, but it was cosy and pleasant! It is also very nice to be right on the railways station, and there’s something slightly magical about a special exit for hotel guests. Anyway, reality aside, this is a very nice hotel. I have a pet peeve in luxury Scottish hotels (very specific I know) where it’s all just tartan and antlers and tweed – designed for rich tourists, and not very representative of actual Scottish art and culture. Glaucus Lodge is sort of bland luxury, but it doesn’t do that, and I’m kind of grateful for it. There however is a sense of always being on edge in the room that loses it a few points with me.

Message in a Haunted Mansion – another of Nancy’s fancy bedrooms. This one gains points for the Victorian chinoiserie, but loses some for a lack of security in the game (that scary-ass note slipped under your door). Still, I wouldn’t say no to a stay in a San Francisco Victorian, and I bet once the mystery was solved Nancy slept like a baby in that bed.

The Captive Curse – I don’t have huge amounts to write about this one, but I really like it. The dark wood and red colour scheme work well here where they didn’t in VEN because of the spooky/nighttime atmosphere. I love a four-poster bed (you ever sleep in one? ooooooh baby it’s a cool soothing balm for all the angst you had as a teenager that you weren’t actually a Gothic heroine living in a decaying manor on the moors), and I really like the lighting in this room. It’s so glowy and cosy. I would love to work at the desk here, looking out of the window and hoping no monsters shamble on by…

White Wolf of Icicle Creek – this game isn’t perfect, but one area it does do well is the bedrooms. Even though DOG is a much better game, this cabin is far more my vibe. I’ve always enjoyed the National Park Service rustic style of architecture and design (hence my earlier reference to the Old Faithful Inn), and though we’re in Canada I think the aesthetic is similar enough. It would of course be a lot nicer if you weren’t always zipping around doing grunt work, but it’s still such a pleasant, cosy place. I like to imagine it has outdoor hot tubs and stargazing pods. The snowed-in vibes are also a big part of what makes the atmosphere so cosy. This is a good place to stay. Maybe get a full staff in, though, not just some teenager run off her feet.

Shadow at the Water’s Edge – I’ve always dreamed of staying in a ryokan, and SAW’s ryokan is REALLY beautiful. In fact, there’s literally one reason why it isn’t number one for me, and that’s how there’s not really a safe place in the whole ryokan – you get menaced in your room, in the halls, in the bathroom (in the BATHROOM), and even the garden is creepy as heck because the soundtrack follows you. All that said, I still love it and I would stay here, ghost or no ghost. The bedding just looks so comfy and soft, the garden is beautiful, I love the idea of being able to take cultural lessons there, and I need to lower my disgusting body into that hot spring bath right now. And, a SURPRISE BONUS LOCATION: Yumi’s apartment! Small and overpriced it may be, but Yumi says she loves it and you can really tell. A cute, cosy little bolthole in the concrete jungle of Kyoto. Mwah.

Treasure in the Royal Tower – snagging the top spot is Her’s fourth game, and the first one to really knock it out of the park. It’s amazing how good the ambience is considering the game’s age, but let’s put that aside and focus on Wickford Castle as a place to stay. Oh, boy. I love it. Nancy’s bedroom is comfy and cosy without being too fussy, there’s so much to explore, you have a whole ass library, AND it comes with a historical mystery? And that’s before you remember that you can (normally) do winter sports here, too. I would love nothing more than to return from a wintry walk and cosy up in front of the fire (sans Lisa, RIP see you in hell) with a good book and some hot chocolate hand-delivered by Jacques. The catering situation could probably be better, but it’s not bad enough to kill the vibe. Absolutely lovely.