#so i’ll default to the first one that shows up

[qivrae]

static - nsfw

spencer reid x afab!reader

a/n: 😲😲😲😲 phone sex with reid (inbox open, please request)

You’re just about to fall asleep when your phone buzzes softly against the pillow. The screen lights up with a contact photo you didn’t realize you’d memorized—Spencer, blurry and smiling, probably mid-laugh from the day you took it. You answer without hesitation. “Hey,” you murmur, voice still heavy with sleep. There’s a pause, like maybe he didn’t expect you to pick up so quickly. When he speaks, his voice is low and hoarse but gentle in the way only he can manage.

“Did I wake you?”

You turn onto your back, staring at the ceiling with a sleepy smile. “Kind of. But it’s okay.” He exhales into the line and something about the sound makes your stomach flutter. It’s not relief, exactly. More like… release. Like hearing your voice made something inside him loosen.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says finally. “Too much noise in my head. I didn’t want to be alone with it.”

You tug the blanket up to your chest. “Rough case?”

“Yeah,” he says. And that one word carries so much: long hours, too many victims, the weight of responsibility he always takes on alone. “We’re just in the waiting phase now. Interviews are done. Morgan and Hotch are going over timelines. It’s a lot of hurry-up-and-wait.”

“And you’re in a motel?” you ask, already picturing it: a dimly lit room, stiff sheets, the hum of a bad AC unit in the background.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Small town. Two-star situation. The mattress feels like cardboard.”

You smile softly. “Poor baby.”

“I’m not fishing for sympathy,” he says, a little defensively.

“No,” you tease, “but you’re definitely hoping I’ll say something to make you forget it.” He’s quiet again.

Then a little rougher, “Maybe.” There’s a shift in his breathing. Something you wouldn’t notice if you didn’t know him so well but you do. It’s subtle, barely there but it makes your heart thump. You recognize that sound. That shallow inhale like he’s trying not to let it show.

Your voice drops. “Spence. What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he answers too quickly. Then, quieter, “Just�� thinking.”

You smirk against the phone. “Thinking about me?” You swear you can hear him swallow.

“Yes.” Another pause. This one longer. And when he speaks again, his voice is soft but not shy. Not embarrassed. Just real. “I’m sorry. I know it’s late. I didn’t call to— I wasn’t trying to make it weird.”

“You didn’t,” you say, sitting up slightly, your pulse starting to pick up. “It’s not weird. I like knowing you think about me like that.” He doesn’t say anything at first. But the sound of him breathing shifts again, deeper now. More purposeful. “Tell me what you’re doing,” you murmur.

A beat. Then slowly, carefully: “I’m just… lying on the bed. Still dressed. But I—” he pauses like he’s deciding how much to give away. “I have my hand over myself.”

Your breath catches. “Are you hard?”

“Yes.” You press your thighs together under the sheets, already warm from just imagining it. Spencer in some creaky motel bed, trying not to get too into it because his team is down the hall.

“Touch yourself,” you whisper. “I want to hear what it sounds like when you do.” There’s a hitch in the line—movement, maybe fabric shifting or his hand adjusting.

“I—okay,” he says breathlessly. “I’m… pressing against the shaft. Through my pants right now. Applying slight pressure—uh—engorgement of the corpora cavernosa has already occurred, so stimulation is…” He trails off, like he just realized what he’s doing.

You laugh softly. “You’re giving me a lecture, Doctor Reid.”

“I know,” he groans, embarrassed. “I can’t help it. I—It’s just how I process. When I get nervous or—aroused—my brain defaults to clinical terminology. I—fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you breathe. “It’s hot.”

He lets out a choked laugh. “You’re the only person on Earth who would say that.”

“Maybe,” you tease, “but I’m the only one who gets to hear it, so I’d say that works out.”

He’s breathing harder now, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’m unzipping my pants. It’s… a little awkward lying like this. But I can feel the friction through my boxers. It’s—god, it’s warm. I’m leaking already.”

Your stomach flips. “I haven’t even touched myself tonight,” you whisper, running a hand slowly down your body beneath the sheets. “I was waiting for you to call.” You hear a low sound from him—almost like a whimper but he catches it before it escapes fully.

“I wanted to hear your voice,” he says, voice thick. “But now I can’t stop picturing your hands. Your mouth.”

“Mmm. You like when I use my mouth, don’t you?” You ask and his breath stutters.

“I think about it too much. Sometimes during briefings. During flights. I’ll remember the way you looked up at me from between my legs and I— I can’t focus.”

You moan quietly. “Tell me more.”

“I—I can’t get enough of the way you hum when you’re doing it. Or how your fingers dig into my thighs. You’re so soft and warm and—fuck—I’m touching myself now.”

You squeeze your legs together, slick already pooling in your panties as his voice drips into your ear like molasses. “How?” you ask breathlessly.

“My fingers,” he pants. “Wrapped around the base. I’m stroking slow, not too tight yet. The pressure is increasing blood flow but—fuck—there’s already too much. It’s… overstimulating.”

“Do you want me to slow you down?”

“No,” he whispers. “Don’t stop. Don’t let me stop.” There’s a tension in your chest now, rising with every breath he takes.

You slide your own hand lower, easing the ache that’s been building since the second he said your name.“Spencer…”

“I keep picturing you with your hand between your thighs,” he gasps.

“It is,” you breathe. “I’m touching myself, Spence. I’m so wet just listening to you.”

He groans, a low sound that rips through the speaker. “I’m close,” he chokes out. “Already. But I don’t want to come yet. I want to listen to you. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“I’m pulsing,” you murmur. “My fingers are soaked. I wish it were yours. I wish I could slide you inside me right now, slow and deep.”

“Fuck.” You hear the bed creak beneath him, hear his sharp inhale as he tries to keep control. He’s falling apart but he’s not there yet—not quite. And neither are you. So you both breathe into the silence. Desperate. Flushed. Teetering on the edge. Spencer’s breath is heavy in your ear. It’s the kind of sound that tightens your stomach and makes you ache, like he’s caught between wanting to speak and not wanting to break the fragile control he’s still holding onto. You can’t help the rush of heat that spreads through you at his small curses. He’s fighting his body, fighting the need to come, all while trying to be considerate of you. It’s so damn Spencer.

You whisper, running your hand over your body, mimicking the movements you know he’s making. “You need to let go a little, don’t you?” He gasps, the sound cutting off abruptly. You hear the shift of his body as his hand speeds up, the friction becoming more intense.

For a long moment, he doesn’t answer. You wonder if he’s going to try to hold back, but when he finally speaks, his voice is raw, needy. “I—I don’t want to come yet,” he confesses, so quietly that you almost miss it. “I don’t want to rush it.”

“Then slow down,” you tell him, your hand slowly moving beneath your sheets in tandem with the rhythm of his voice.

He breathes a shaky laugh escaping him. “It’s hard. It’s really hard.”

“I know, baby,” you murmur, the word slipping out without thought. “It’s hard for me too.” There’s a slight catch in his breath, a slight trembling and you know he’s fighting with everything he has to keep himself in check.

“I… I can’t explain it. It’s not just the physical… it’s the mental stimulation. The proprioceptive feedback is off the charts. I’m—fuck, I’m getting lightheaded just talking about it.”

You can’t help but laugh at his attempt to keep things academic, even now. “You’re so hot when you do that,” you tell him, voice thick with desire. “I think I might get off just listening to you try to sound all scientific while you’re on the edge of losing it.”

He groans at that, and you can almost see his face, flushed with embarrassment, as he shifts around in his bed. “I—I’m sorry. I don’t know how else to—”

You cut him off gently. “You don’t have to apologize, Spence. I love hearing you like this. You can let go. You can talk to me, tell me exactly what you need.” He takes a shaky breath and for a moment, you think he’s going to argue or retreat back into his overly-analytical shell but then he says your name, low and desperate. The desperation in his voice makes your heart race. You’ve never heard him like this—raw and open, breaking away from his usual restraint. You’re so close to pushing him past that edge. You don’t let him finish his sentence. Instead, you keep him on the brink. “Tell me what you need, Spencer,” you whisper, your voice thick with anticipation. “You’ve got me right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I need you to…” he starts, but his words get stuck in his throat. “I need you to make me feel good. I don’t want to—fuck, I need to feel you.” Your pulse quickens as you hear the vulnerability in his voice.

“You can feel me, Spence. I’m right here. You just have to focus. Focus on how good you feel right now.”

“I’m trying,” he whispers and there’s that catch in his voice again. “I just—fuck, I don’t think I can hold back much longer.”

Your body aches at his words as you whisper back, “Let go for me. Let me hear you.” Spencer’s breath hitches again, faster. Like he’s teetering on the edge. You’re both so close. So close. But he’s still holding back, still refusing to let go completely. You feel the tension, the urgency in his voice. You’re both quiet for a moment now. Just breathing. And even through the static of the phone, you can hear every soft puff of air he exhales. Every subtle shift of movement on that scratchy motel bedsheet. He’s being so good. He speaks up through the groans. Just your name. It’s broken but like it’s the only word left in his vocabulary. You press the phone tighter to your ear and close your eyes, your free hand sliding between your legs as your voice softens. “Still with me, baby?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, hoarse. “I’m just—my hand’s shaking.”

“How long have you been like this?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

There’s a beat before he says, “Since before I called you.”

Your heart flutters. You shift in bed, biting back a moan. “That long?”

He hums a pitiful little yes. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I tried to, but everything felt… empty. Like my skin was too tight. I—I kept getting hard every time I thought about your voice. About your hands. About the last time we—” He cuts himself off with a sharp inhale. You know he’s fighting, hard. Harder than he should be.

“Spencer,” you murmur, “you’ve been so good for me. So patient. But I don’t want you to hold back anymore.” He exhales like he’s just been told he can finally breathe. “Come,” you whisper. The word is barely out of your mouth before you hear him fall apart on the other end of the line. The soft, slick sounds of his hand meeting skin. The choked gasp that gets caught in his throat. The deep, trembling groan like it’s been trapped in his chest for hours.

“F-fuck,” he hisses, his voice breaking. “It’s—it’s too much, God.” You can hear the rhythm. He’s fast. Desperate. Probably fucking into his own hand with nowhere near the control he had earlier. You let your fingers glide through your own slick heat and sigh into the phone.

“Does it feel good, baby?” His breath hitches again.

“Yes, it’s—I’m gonna—”

“Yeah?” you coo, “Feels so good, hmm?” A strained whine escapes him.

“It’s—it’s throbbing. It’s pre-cum. My whole body feels like—like I’m on fire. My hand is wet, I don’t—I don’t even know how much came out, it’s so fucking sensitive and I’m—I’m gonna lose it.”

“You’re doing so well,” you breathe. “I’m touching myself too, Spence. You’ve got me so wet.”

He whimpers. “Please,” You feel your own orgasm building, slow and steady like a wave about to crash. You want to finish with him. You want to feel it in his voice when it finally hits him. You don’t even get another word out before he gasps so loud it cuts through the speaker, his breath catching in his throat as he falls over the edge. It’s not even a groan—it’s a sound you’ve never heard before. Desperate, stunned, overwhelmed. You hear the wet slap of his hand faltering, the breathless moans as he rides it out.

“ah— please.” he keeps saying your name like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality. And that’s what sends you over. You press the phone harder to your ear, hips stuttering against your hand as your orgasm hits you like a tremor. Your whole body arches as you cry out, biting your lip to keep quiet but knowing he hears it—feels it—because you can hear him panting through his own aftershocks. It’s messy. Loud. Intimate in a way that phone sex usually isn’t. Neither of you talk for a while. Just the sounds of two people on opposite sides of a phone line, breathing like they’ve just been pulled from underwater.

Eventually, Spencer breaks the silence with a soft laugh. “That was… wow.” You smile, sinking back into your bed.

“Yeah. Wow.” He’s still breathless but there’s a note of wonder in his voice, like he’s not entirely sure that just happened. “I’ve never… I mean— that was…”

“Good?” you offer. He laughs again, quieter this time.

“Yeah. Very.” You imagine him lying there, hand limp on his chest, flushed and dazed and probably trying to mentally calculate how many calories he just burned. It makes you ache with affection.

“You okay?” you ask gently.

“More than okay,” he says and you can hear the smile in his voice. “I just… wish I could hold you right now.”

You let out a breath, soft and sincere. “Me too.”There’s a pause before you sheepishly ask, “Think you can sleep now?”

He hums. “Eventually. I’ll probably fall asleep picturing you.”

You laugh softly. “Pervert.”

“Your fault,” he says, voice already thick with sleep. And it is. And you’re okay with that.

[askchilchuck]

Hear me out: You have a fast metabolism rate. You're a bunny.

How many times do I have to tell you guys? Quit comparing me to rodents already!

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 8:46

“Do you have dimples?”

Bakugou doesn’t understand it himself, but you always find your way back to his house after your first visit—asking these out-of-the-blue questions that seem to have no end to them. It’s like a curse has befallen him, one that follows him wherever he goes.

For a moment, his eyes snap in your direction, his head tilting ever so slightly to the side, though his intense glare never once wavers. He didn’t know what the hell you were getting at, and he wasn’t sure if he had the strength to even want to know why you were asking about something so random.

Honestly, he should be used to it by now. But the thing is, he isn’t, because sooner or later you’ll be popping out of nowhere with another of your pointless questions.

“Hah?”

“I asked, do you have dimples?” you repeated.

His eye twitches at the repeated question, and as much as he’d like to give you a snappy remark to get you to stop, he can’t seem to come up with one. So, for the time being, he decides to humor you (and hope for the best that you drop it and move onto another topic).

“Why the hell are you asking?”

“Because Kaminari and I made a bet whether you have dimples or not. I went with yes, you do have them—even if it’s a singular dimple, but Kaminari says otherwise,” you explained, tapping your finger softly against the coffee table.

He scoffs at the childish reason. “And what makes you think I do have one?”

“A hunch,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “I also have just one.” You smiled, showing off your obvious singular dimple on your right cheek.

Bakugou glances at your dimple for a brief moment, eyes scanning over your face and the way that the dimple seemed to perfectly dip into the soft skin of your cheek. He almost found himself entranced for a moment, but his gaze returned to your eyes as he huffed out in mock disinterest.

He was about to dismiss your hunch—maybe just flat-out refuse to even show you—or come up with a lie. But Bakugou Katsuki wasn’t a liar.

“What happens if you win the bet?”

“I get 3000 yen,” you answered.

That’s a lot, he thought.

“I can pay you 3000 yen to shut the fuck up and stop with the useless questions.”

“There’s no fun in that!”

He scoffs again as he leans back against the sofa, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at your stupidity. He eyed you for a moment, his head tilting to the side as he sighed. “And what happens if you lose the bet?”

“He gets 3000 yen.”

Bakugou almost wanted to laugh at the fact that you were putting so much faith and money on a simple guess, but he managed to hold back on the amused expression and forced himself to remain calm and unbothered.

He leaned back a bit more, relaxing against the plush seats, letting out a mocking “tch” before he said, “What if I don’t show you if I have a damn dimple or not?”

“Please? Oh my god, Bakugou. Don’t do this to me now! Kaminari’s going to do a ‘victory dance’ when he finds out he won by default,” you half-whined.

He was about to give you his final choice when suddenly you started whining at him. Bakugou rose an eyebrow at you, lips quirking to a frown. As idiotic as it is to him, it looks like it was quite a serious matter to you.

“Tch. Whatever.”

You threw your hands to your face, groaning. “Pretty please, with a cherry on top? Spare me some sympathy—and be a team player for once!”

He found himself fighting a scowl at the way you acted. It was somewhat different this time around, and it was making him feel weird. Damn it. You’re a goddamn nuisance.

“Alright, fine. Just—” He motioned with his hand for you to come closer, an almost annoyed expression on his face. “If you tell anyone else about this other than Dunce Face, I’ll make sure you don’t ever see the next sunrise.”

“That doesn’t sound heroic at all—but yes, of course!” you cheered. “Just a little smile, and I shall confirm the goods.”

“Yeah, yeah. Shut up,” he muttered under his breath, already regretting giving into your stupid request but at the same time knowing that he would never let Kaminari win against you in all circumstances possible.

He let out a huff and hesitantly let the sides of his own lips quirk up into a half-assed attempt at a smile, but from the way it was so rigid, it looked more like a painful grimace.

You gave him a confused, somewhat flat look in return. “Dude, you look like you’re about to shit yourself—mmph! ” You didn’t get to finish what you were saying as Bakugou’s palms immediately squished your cheeks together to shut you up.

“Oh shut it, dipshit,” Bakugou grumbled, his grip on your cheeks tightening ever so slightly as he forced you to pout your lips. “You were asking for a smile. I give one, and you wanna give me smart ass remarks about it?”

“I didn’ even gwet toh shee anythin’! That’s how bwad ith was,” you muffled out through pouty lips.

“Are you gonna keep yapping and bitching about what you asked for, or are you gonna accept my goddamn smile?”

“Fine, fine!” you yielded, pushung his hands away from your face. “Do it one more time, and I’ll actually check this time.”

He narrowed his eyes, almost as if he were wondering if you were going to actually do as you said or go against it and keep making smart-ass comments. But as you yielded, he let out a sigh and decided he’d rather just get this done and over with. 

Less hassle for him.

He repeated his ‘smile’ from before, which looked more like a forced sneer, and he waited for your verdict. This was his last straw; he was going to murder you (not).

You had to hold back your laughter but failed to do so. “I really can’t— Bakugou, please! ” you mused, hitting his shoulder playfully. “Your ‘smile’ reminds me of that time Kirishima had to hold the biggest shit before the bell rings.”

That caught Bakugou off guard. He remembered the memory of Kirishima’s panicked expression and the weird waddle he’d walked around in as he desperately tried to find a bathroom made Bakugou snort under his breath.

“Oh my god, you’re laughing!” you gawked. “And have a dimple! Just a singular one, like mine! We’re matching.”

There it was. A singular dimple on his left cheek.

Bakugou tried to regain his lost composure and let out a scoff in an attempt to mask the slight tint of pink that reached the tip of his ears. He forced his hand onto your face, shoving you (lightly, if he may add) away from him to prevent you from getting another look at his dimple.

“It’s not a worldwide discovery, dumbass. I can fucking laugh if I want to, and it’s just a fucking indent on the cheek.”

“Still cute,” you shrugged, pulling up your phone to text Kaminari. “I need to let Kami know that I won the bet, then we celebrate with bubble tea— my treat!”

“Hey wait— You—“

He tried to protest against your sudden celebration, wanting to tell you that he wasn’t going to let you treat him for anything. This whole damn thing started because of a stupid bet, and he doesn’t really find joy in gaining something from it, but as you pulled out your phone and began to text Kaminari, he sighed and leaned back again with his arms crossed tight against his chest.

“Whatever. You’re fucking annoying.”

“Kay,” you answered. “Also, your actual smile is pretty charming, if you ask me. It’s different from the usual sneer you have on your face. That’s just my opinion, though.”

Bakugou’s face grew a bit warm at your unexpected compliment, but he quickly tried to hide it and turned his head to avert his gaze away from you. His mouth opened to reply with a snappy remark or something like that, but he found himself hesitating.

He eventually scoffed and muttered a low, “Tch. Stop spouting nonsense.”

“Bakugou Katsuki has a singular dimple,” you sing-songed aloud, though you knew that no one would hear since his parents weren’t even home.

Bakugou felt his eyes twitch at your teasing, resisting the urge to tell you off and even going as far as to just punch your shoulder lightly. “Shut the fuck up, dipshit.”

He later found out that there was no bet, and you had just made up the whole scenario to confirm your curiosity. That Bakugou Katsuki does have a dimple, a singular one at that.

Could you imagine how furious he was?

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[eternal-evergreens]

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧"Into the looking glass - III"｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

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

Post format: Multipart series

Pairing: Yandere!Male!DoL x Fem!Isekai!Reader

Word count: 5.1k

Synopsis: You gain the chance to wake up in the world of one of your favorite games. Unfortunately, the 'favorite game' happens to be one about rape, violence, and stalking. Not only that, but the game seems to be rigged against you. All you want is to find a way home and put this all behind you, but is that even possible...?

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Attempted Non/Con, Drugging, Attempted Kidnapping, Stalking

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible

No, no. Not happening. Never.

You need money. But you won’t get it through unscrupulous means. You still have your morals, and you’ll abide by them. That’s why you saved Kylar. That’s why you’d save him again, should it happen in the future.

You push the thought out of your mind and exit the temple. As you pass by Danube Street, a thought hits you. 

The spa. Why haven’t you been working at the spa? 

It’s not really an early-game option due to the stat checks required, but those shouldn’t be a problem for you. With your hand skill at C by default and your beauty over the max, working as a masseur is as simple as walking up and asking for work. 

You head over and ask for work, and the lady at the front desk takes one look at your hands and gasps. Her bored demeanor quickly melts away into an excited one as she quickly shows you the ropes. You get the basics down pretty quickly and soon take your first client, a trim woman who looks to be in her early 30s.

“Hello, I’ve not done this before. Do I just lie down?” That makes two of us, you think to yourself. 

“That’s right! Just lie down, and I’ll take care of the rest,” you say, smiling. The trim woman seems reassured and quickly lies down on the table. You get to work on her shoulders and neck first, cautiously looking for knots and tension as you knead her muscles. The woman relaxes under your touch and begins to make small talk. She tells you about her family, how her kids are both bright young boys, and her husband brings her flowers every month. She seems really happy. -Trauma -Stress

She leaves you a tip. You make £75. 

Your next client is less friendly, but you manage to massage her without incident. She leaves you a tip. You make £80 and decide to take a break, feeling a little worn out from standing on your feet for nearly two hours straight. After fifteen minutes, you get up and head back into the spa, where you take on another two clients. They both leave tips, and you make £120. The spa closes after that, and you head outside. 

Someone throws a water balloon at you from a nearby car, soaking your shirt and leaving it near-invisible. You hear cheers as they speed away, leaving you soaked out in the open. +Stress

You look around, but luckily, no one is around to see your predicament. You cover yourself with your arms as best as you can and head home. You take the alleys to avoid passersby seeing you, walking quickly in hopes of getting home sooner. You don’t watch where you’re going and end up walking right into someone. 

“Watch where you’re going, you—!” You look up, about to apologize, when you see icy blue eyes staring back at you. It’s Whitney, his face, only inches from yours, changes from anger to a smug smile.”Well, what do we have here? A slut all out on her own?” Whitney’s friends giggle. 

“Why is she walking around so exposed?” One delinquent asks. “Is she a pervert?” They giggle, crowding around you.

“I wanna get a picture!” Soon, all the delinquents are pulling out their phones. Suddenly torn between the desire to cover your face and your chest, you end up hiding behind the thing closest to you, which ends up being Whitney. He seems taken aback but soon wraps an arm around you protectively. +Love

“Fuck off,” he says, arm still around your waist. “Get your own slut.” The others seem disappointed but comply regardless. When everyone’s phone has been put away, Whitney releases you and shrugs off his jacket. 

“Can’t fuck a sick person,” he says, throwing his jacket over you. “Make sure to give it back. Now fuck off.” He shoves you out of the alleyway, leaving you stunned. Did that really just happen? 

You check your phone.

Whitney The Bully  Whitney wants to own you.       Fascination: 50% Love: 5% Devotion: 0% Dominance: 40%       Jealousy: 0% Lust: 100% 

You walk home with his jacket wrapped around your shoulders. It smells like smoke.

—————————

It is Thursday, the 8th of September, 2022. -It has been 4 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn.  -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £729 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You feel cold Fatigue: You are alert Stress: You are calm Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are insecure Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

After waking up and finishing your morning routine, you go to Robin’s room and play video games with him for an hour. Some of the games remind you of those you used to play back home. +Love -Trauma +Stress 

“It’s almost time for school,” he says. “Do you want to come with me?” You smile and nod. Robin stands up from the bed and puts his controller away. He holds the door open for you as you leave, and you notice a faint blush on his cheeks as you pass. You swear you saw him glance down. +Lust

You’re suddenly reminded that you’re in a yandere game and that Robin is a target character. ++Stress

You grimace as you round a corner and resist the urge to cover your butt as Robin walks behind you. Your skirt is so short he can probably see your underwear as you walk. +++Stress

You see Bailey holding a mousy girl by the arms, a bundle of rope in his other hand. 

“You owe me £200 this week,” he says. The girl is holding back tears but still manages to keep a strong look about her. Robin looks away. The other orphans do the same. They all look…resigned. You step forward. 

“I’ll pay,” you say. “Let her go.” Bailey raises an eyebrow but releases the girl. You hand over the £200 without fuss. It’s only after parting with the money that you remember you could have just pepper-sprayed him and gained some catharsis. You don’t really need to be stingy with it, after all. Bailey counts the money and leaves, leaving the mousy girl to dust herself off.

“Thank you,” the mousy girl says. “I was really scared.” 

“Will you be okay?” You ask her. She nods. She seems genuinely okay. 

“Yes, thanks to you. I promise I’ll pay you back for this,” she says, running off. 

“You don’t have to!” You call out after her, but she’s already gone. 

You did a good thing today. -Trauma -Stress

“That was really impressive,” Robin says. “It’s not often people stand up to Bailey.” You shrug, and Robin cracks a smile. +Love

You and Robin chat on the way to school, mostly about the games you played earlier. There’s a certain glint in his eyes when he looks at you that wasn’t there before. You have to suppress a shiver every time you accidentally meet his gaze. +Stress

“I just don’t understand why they’d make a tutorial so difficult,” Robin says, shaking his head. “Maybe-” He’s cut off by something, eyes widening. You follow his gaze and see two hooded figures approaching rapidly from the alleyway you just passed. You reach for your pepper spray as the figures get closer, unhooking it from its keychain and holding it at the ready. 

“It’s her,” one says. You waste no time and spray them both, then grab Robin’s arm and sprint to safety with him. ++Crime (Assault) ++Crime (Assault) +Stress +Fatigue

You don’t stop running until you reach the school gates and are safely behind them. You and Robin pant heavily as you struggle to come down from the adrenaline. 

“Where did you get that?!” Robin whisper-yells. 

“A kid in my English class makes them,” you say at a normal volume. Robin’s look of concern only grows, and he spends a few minutes lecturing you on the dangers and illegalities of pepper spray. You mostly tune him out. 

The bell rings, finally putting an end to Robin’s monologue, and you head to class. You focus on the lesson, and Sirris calls you up to the front of the class. A student uses a ruler to flash your panties to everyone. To make matters worse, Sirris wanted you to undress for the demonstration. You comply, feeling humiliated as the class leers at your body. +++Stress

The bell rings, and you rush out of the classroom. You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you walk. Your ears are ringing, your heartbeat is too loud, the world is spinning, and—

It’s all too much for you. You pass out. 

—————————

It is Thursday, the 8th of September, 2022. -It has been 4 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn.  -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £529 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You feel cold Fatigue: You are wearied Stress: You are distressed Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are insecure Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You wake up with something soft yet firm under your head and Sydney right above you. 

“You’re awake!” He says. “I was worried. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I brought you back to the library.”

“Not the nurse?” You say, getting up. You realize that you’ve been lying on Sydney’s lap. Sydney looks sheepish. 

“I didn’t think of that,” he says, not meeting your gaze. He looks genuine, but you get the feeling he’s not being honest. +Awareness 

Sydney insists you stay with him for another ten minutes so he can monitor your condition. When you ask about going to the nurse again he makes an excuse of not knowing if you’re good to walk. You decide not to push it any further and spend the next ten minutes chatting with Sydney. When the ten minutes are up, he looks hesitant to let you go but relents regardless. +Love +Lust -Sydney’s purity

By the time you leave, it’s already lunch. You missed two classes. ++Deliquency

Feeling stressed from everything, you decide to sit alone in hopes of relaxing. You should have known better, however, as a group of students soon come by to make your day harder. The second they start jeering at you, you unhook your pepper spray and blast them all in the face. ++Crime (Assault) ++Delinquency +Status

The students are screaming and hurling insults, but the ringing in your ears makes it impossible to hear them. You finish your lunch in silence. 

You spend the rest of school zoning out, hoping your stress will subside. It works, kind of. 

You have detention, but you don’t feel like going. Considering all the shit you pulled today, Leighton is probably going to take off your clothes and smack you or something. You don’t have good enough grades to know where the tunnel from school is, so you walk out the front. Leighton tries to stop you, but you pepper spray him. ++Crime (Assault) ++Delinquency +Status 

A group of students say they’re going to the lake. You could use a change of scenery.

You join them. +Status

Hanging out at the lake is fun enough. No one tries to grope you after what happened at lunch, so you end up having a somewhat enjoyable time. 

Then they start bullying another student, who thankfully isn’t here to listen to them shit-talking them, and what little fun you were having quickly melts away. You stand up and walk away, deciding to go for a swim instead. You think about retrieving the lichen for your science project but push the thought out of your mind. 

You swim for about an hour, and when you exit the water, the sun is already beginning to set. Your fellow classmates are still hanging out, but you don’t really feel like joining them, so you put on your clothes and go for a walk, planning to head back after you’re done.

You hear a bullet firing from afar. Something is hunting you.

Fuck. You whip around, trying to locate the source of the bullet. You heard it shoot from behind you, but you don’t see anyone. Going back the way you came might mean running straight into their arms. You glance around one last time, but a second gunshot has you running on your feet in no time.

You dash through the woods, not bothering to look behind you as the gun fires off in the near distance. You don’t think they’re shooting at you, and running zig-zag like you were taught as a kid just means slowing down. So, you run straight ahead with no clear plan in mind. You unhook your pepper spray again (you should probably thank Kylar), just in case, but you don’t know how much good it will do in a gunfight. Still, something is better than nothing, so you hold onto it, keeping it close to your chest as you run, run, run.

Your foot hits something strange and loses balance. You don’t even have time to process it until you’re lifted upside-down by your heel, face to inverted face with a plant person. 

“I caught one!” The plant girl exclaims. “This one’s wearing lacey panties!” You spray her, and she falls, her vines releasing you instantly. It’s only when you see sap pouring out from a hole on the side of her head that you hear the gunshot and realize it wasn’t you that took her down.

“Got you,” Eden says, a hand on your shoulder. You try to turn around, but the second you move, you’re on the ground, nose pressed into the soil, and arms pinned behind you in a painful grip. You feel your pepper spray being torn from your hand and thrown next to a bush. 

Shit. Shit!

He’s got you in a submission hold. There’s nothing you can do but go along with it and wait for an opportunity. It takes everything in you not to thrash and scream against his hold, but you know that would only make things worse.

Eden runs his hand down your back, stopping when he gets to the hem of your skirt. He flips it up, taking a moment to admire it before giving it a light slap. You jump when he hits you, though it’s more about the surprise than the pain.

“You’re hurting me!” You cry, trying your best to sound helpless. “Please let go!” You weakly struggle against his grip for good measure. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, voice gruff. “Can’t do that. You’ll run away.” 

“I’ll be good! I’ll be good! Please, please, let me go!” You wiggle around, pretending this is as much strength as you can muster up. Eden leans down and studies your expression for a moment. You can feel the outline of his cock on your back as he leans down to look at you. The scrutiny in such a position is near-unbearable, but he releases you without a word. 

You force yourself to be still for a moment, not to do anything that would alert him. Then, slowly, you turn around and, mustering up every bit of courage you have, lean up and kiss him. He seems taken aback but soon reciprocates the gesture. You press into him, stroking and massaging his skin as you cautiously lean him back into a more desirable position. 

Though it costs you your dignity, you’re eventually able to get on top of him, grinding against him through his pants as you lower him to the ground. When you’ve got him completely below you, and you’re straddling his hips, you break the kiss and pull yourself up. 

“I think it's time we get rid of these,” you say, grabbing your panties and lifting your hips, then swaying them suggestively. You shift your weight to one knee and lift your other leg up, then, in a sudden, adrenaline-charged burst of speed, you throw yourself off of him and stagger to your feet. You kick him in the crotch and run towards the bush where your pepper spray landed. 

Eden catches your foot, and you nosedive towards the ground. You fall, but pepper spray is just within reach. You grab it and go limp. Eden drags your body closer to his, and you use it as an opportunity to spray him. He grabs his eyes and recoils, and you quickly gather yourself and run back the way you came. 

Your clothes snag on bushes and branches as you run, but you pay it no mind as you force yourself to run. You can’t hear anything but the wind in your ears, so you have no idea if Eden is chasing you or not. 

Silly you, it shouldn’t have been Eden you were worrying about. 

You feel yourself hit the ground before you even register being knocked down. There’s a growling above you and two hands on either side of your body. You twist around, barely even registering the wolf ears and sharp teeth of the man on top of you. You spray him, and he staggers back. You rush to your feet and keep running until you’re safely out of the forest. Your clothes are practically in scraps by the time you’re out, and at this point, you think it’ll be cheaper to just buy new clothes instead of fixing them. 

Then, it hits you. The pain and exhaustion. 

You drop to your knees, suddenly aware of every scratch, scrape, and bruise you acquired while running through the forest, suddenly aware of the strain on your muscles from the fatigue. You stay sitting for a few minutes, waiting for your muscles to stop hurting or for you to stop caring. When you notice the sun is starting to set, you pull yourself up and drag yourself back home, where you run a bath and then go straight to bed. 

—————————

It is Friday, the 9th of September, 2022. -It has been 5 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn.  -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £529 Pain: You are upset Arousal: You feel cold Fatigue: You are wearied Stress: You are distressed Trauma: You are nervous Control: You are anxious Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You get up and check your socials on your phone.

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible Primary relationships:  Robin The Orphan Robin wants to be your best friend.              Fascination: 100% Love: 5% Devotion: 30% Lust: 40%         Confidence: 0% Trauma: 0% Jealousy: 5% Whitney The Bully  Whitney wants to own you.       Fascination: 50% Love: 10% Devotion: 0% Dominance: 40% Jealousy: 0% Lust: 100%  Kylar The Loner Kylar is obsessed with you.       Fascination: 100% Love: 9% Devotion: 55% Jealousy: 55%        Lust: 90% Sydney The Faithful ? Sydney is conflicted.       Fascination: 70% Love: 8% Devotion: 25% Purity: 20%        Jealousy: 0% Lust: 70%  Avery The Businessman Avery thinks you’re cute.     Fascination: 55% Love: 1% Devotion: 0% Jealousy: 0%     Dominance: 0% Lust: 30% Rage: 0% Eden The Hunter Eden wants you back.     Fascination: 80% Love: 0% Devotion: 0% Jealousy: 0%     Dominance: 0% Lust: 100% Black Wolf The Alpha Black Wolf wants to see you again. Reputation:  The police consider you a person of interest, and have enough evidence for an arrest. The atmosphere in the orphanage is calm. You are considered a normal student by teachers. Your fellow students desire you. Lust: 100% Status: 60% Sex: Unknown. Prostitution: Unknown. Rape: Obscure. Beastiality: Unknown. Exhibitionism: Obscure. Pregnancy: Unknown. Combat: Low-key. Kindness: Obscure. Business: Unknown. Socialite: Unknown. Overall: Notorious. The townsfolk call you Darling. Those in the criminal underworld call you Darling.

Your eyes hover over your police reputation. You sigh. You’ll have to visit Landry after school. You throw your covers off of you and climb out of bed, groggily going to your wardrobe. 

Right. Your clothes got torn. You pick up an undamaged skirt and shirt, tossing the tattered garments into the trash. You put on your clothes and pick up your bag, not bothering to stop by Robin’s room this morning.

You take a bus to the shopping center, where you do what you should have done on day one: buy clothes that actually cover you. You browse for a few minutes, looking for something as pervert-proof as possible. You settle on a school blouse, shorts, a sports bra, suspenders, and a pair of work boots. 

The shorts provide you protection against people lifting your skirt, the suspenders (which you’ll have to sew on) keep you from being pantsed, the sports bra can’t be unclipped and provides support in case you need to run, and the work boots will help you keep your footing when you need to go to the moor or the woods. 

You buy what you’re wearing as well as a few backups of the shorts and shirt, totaling £215. You pay and leave, arriving at school just in time for your science class. Today’s Friday, so you have a chance to improve your grades if you do well on the tests. 

The lesson pace is a little different from usual. It’s just a review of everything you’ve learned this week. Nothing new is being covered, so you don’t bother to take notes. Not that you’ve had any time to study your notes since coming here.

The test is easy enough, despite your terrible study habits, and you manage to improve your grade to a D. -Stress

The rest of the day continues similarly, and soon you have D’s all across the board. --Stress

You go to the pub after school, looking around for a thin man or woman with black hair and a grey sweater. You feel a hand on your shoulder and turn your head. It’s a tall man you’ve never seen before. He’s covered in tattoos.

“You’ve been busy,” he says, booze on his breath. “Don’t think I don’t recognize you. You’re the talk of the town. Bit surprising not seeing you being fucked raw, though.” His grip on your shoulder tightens. “I reckon it’s time I got my slice of the pie. You like it rough, right? That’s what I’ve heard. Come ‘ere, sweetheart.” 

“Am I interrupting?” You hear a man’s voice, and the tall man’s hand on your shoulder loses it’s grip. You look over to see the face of your savior and realize it’s the very person you were looking for. Your face shifts to one of relief. -Stress

“Yeah,” he says. “Piss off.”

“I recognize you.” 

“You should, I come here more often than I-” 

“March 3rd, 2009. Nightingale Street.” The tall man pales. “So you know what I’m talking about. I wasn’t there myself, but I’ve heard the stories. You were the talk of the town.” 

The tall man stutters. “Y-you’re not with the fuzz. You won’t turn me in.”

“You don’t know that. And either way, we both know you’re not hiding from the police. So how about you let her go, and I won’t tip off the Elk about your latest haunt.” The tall man looks at you, then Landry, then you again. Landry smiles. He throws his hands off of you.

“Fine. Shit, fine. You her lover? You picked a damn slutty one.” Landry waits until the man is out of earshot before turning to you. 

“Come with me,” he says. “I want to talk to you in private.”

“Reputation isn’t always a good thing,” Landry says as you sit down. “Word’s spread about you. You’re notorious. That’s why that drunkard went for you. You remember what he said, right?” 

“I haven’t even done anything,” you say. 

“No, but you’re pretty while doing it,” Landry retorts. “Not hitting on you,” he says. 

“Thanks?” 

“It’s not a good thing. You attract attention wherever you go. Where a normal person might have to fuck a hundred people to start getting known as a slut around town, you’d only have to fuck one.” 

“Oh,” you say, slinking in your seat. “So, what can I do?” 

“I think I can help you,” he pauses. “Well, not me. But I think I know someone. This orphan at the home on Domus Street. A computer whiz. Mickey, or McKay, something like that. Best hope is to find this orphan. If you can get them to come work with me, they’ll be able to hook you up. There’ll be some money in it for you, too. Just don’t step on Bailey’s toes.” You nod. 

“Thank you,” you say. Landry smiles.

“There’s another thing, too,” he says. “I’ll be frank. I know you need money. Don’t ask me how I know, word gets around. I think I can help you. If you come across any jewelry or other items you don’t know what to do with, I can take them off your hands. I’ll pay well.” He looks over your shoulder. “As well as can be expected, anyway.” 

“Can you help me get the police off my trail?”

“I can help you,” he says, reclining. “But I need you to do something for me. And no, it’s not about money. I was expecting a package, but it never arrived. Good thing I know where to find it, it had a GPS tracker. It got lost somewhere deep in the moor. Get it for me, and I’ll prevent any of your past misdemeanors being pinned on you. It’s a small black box.” You nod and stand. 

“Oh, and do be careful,” Landry says. “I don’t believe the tales of monsters, but there’s a sensible reason behind some superstitions.” 

You’re already wearing work boots, but you want to wear something that you can afford to tear, too. Preferably something resistant that can protect you. But you don’t have the money for that, so you head back to the orphanage and wear the only other outfit you have, a sundress. You put your pepper spray keychain on your bookbag and take it with you, hoping you won’t run out during this trip. 

After double checking everything is in order, you leave the orphanage and begin to make the long trek to the moor. 

Several people attempt to pick you up along the way. By which you mean literally every person who passes by you has slowed down to talk and ask where you’re headed. Not willing to risk anything, you turn them all down, running when they get too persistent. By the time you finally make it to the farmlands, you’re exhausted. So you sit down near the entrance to rest, knowing you’ll need your energy for the moor. 

“You alright there?” Someone asks. You look up to see a suntanned boy under a straw hat, looking concerned. He looks around your age, with red hair and a boyish appearance. He must be Alex, you realize.

“It was just a really long walk to get here,” you admit sheepishly. 

“You walked all the way from town?” You nod. “Well, Jesus! No wonder you’re so tired. Come in and get some water, my place isn’t far.” 

“Do you own the farm?” 

“Yeah, I do! It’s a work in progress, but it’s home.” You smile. 

Alex is right, and it doesn’t take long to reach the cottage, where he offers you a glass of water. You thank him and gulp it down. +++Drugged

…Huh?

You stare at your phone. The screen seems to shift.

Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You feel cold Fatigue: You are wearied Stress: You are calm Trauma: You are nervous Control: You are anxious Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged A lewd warmth fills you Your perception is altered

You look back up to Alex, who’s staring at you with a grin. You stand up but nearly fall. Alex stands with you, his hands on your shoulders. 

“Easy, there,” he says as if you’re a horse that needs to calm down. You shove him off of you and  run, reaching for your pepper spray, but in your altered state, you can’t figure out how to unhook it. 

>Try again (Skullduggery: Impossible) >Rip it off (Athletics: Challenging) >Spray without unhooking (Dance: Very Difficult) 

You rip it off, but the fabric holds firm. Alex is close behind you.

>Try again (Athletics: Challenging) >Spray without unhooking (Dance: Very Difficult) 

You try again and the fabric doesn’t yield. Alex is right behind you.

>Try again (Athletics: Challenging) >Spray without unhooking (Dance: Very Difficult) 

This is taking too long. You spray without unhooking, managing to get Alex, but in your flailing, also manage to spray yourself. +++Pain ++Willpower

You run, you don’t even know where you’re going you just run.

You can’t open your eyes, but you know they wouldn’t be of much help in this state, anyway. You run until you hit what feels like tall grass, then slow. You’re in the moor now. 

You try to quiet your breathing as you listen for anything that may be chasing you or lying in wait. You hear nothing. You go a little further in, just enough to be hidden among the grass and wait. 

Eventually, the pain subsides, and you open your bleary eyes. You still feel unsteady, though, so you wait longer. It takes another forty minutes for you to regain full balance and control of your body. When you do, you trudge deeper into the moor, relying on the map on your phone to guide you to the box. After what feels like two hours of searching, you finally find the box across from some water. 

You grimace as you step in, your shoes and socks instantly soaking with dirty water. The water is about knee-high, so not enough to touch your sundress but just enough to make movement heavily uncomfortable. You hobble over the box, just about to reach it, when you feel something suck you in. 

You look behind you and recognize the thing as a lurker. You waste no time and spray it, freeing yourself and grabbing the box before leaving. 

Of course, nothing is ever that simple, and just as you leave the water, you see a terrible shadow overhead. You look up and notice a harpy in the sky. You are being hunted.

You start to run. Your pursuer approaches rapidly. ++Stress

You run faster, pushing yourself to your limits as you sprint across the moor. But luck is never on your side, and your foot sinks into something as you land. You look down, and it’s a fucking foxhole. Not big enough for you to run through or hide in. You pull yourself out, but it’s too late. 

“Found wife,” he says. You spray him and keep running. That should keep him out of commission for a while. 

Eventually, you feel safe enough to walk the rest of the way out of the moor. You sneak around the farmlands and begin to walk the rest of the way home. You’re too tired to make it very far, however, and soon pass out on the road. You feel yourself being lifted onto a stretcher before passing out again.

You’ve unlocked a fragment.

—————————

<Prev Next>

[its-mayas-world]

“You Keep Crying, I’ll Keep Buying”

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Established Relationship, Sugar Daddy-ish, Emotional Comfort

Warnings: None, unless you count excessive sweetness and tears of joy

A/n: To be Y/N would be a dream come true 🧚🧚🧚

---

Spencer had never been great with grand gestures. Not because he didn’t want to be, but because his brain defaulted to the practical. Logical. Measured.

Until he met you.

You’d somehow knocked all logic out of him with one smile. Now? Logic was irrelevant. Budgeting? Dead to him. His PhDs? Reduced to background noise when your name popped into his mind—which was about every ten seconds.

So really, it was your fault he was currently standing in the entryway of your shared apartment with a box that could easily be mistaken for a small fridge.

“Spence,” you blinked, looking up from the book on your lap as he kicked the door shut with his foot. “What is that?”

“Something that made me think of you,” he said innocently, which you knew always meant danger.

You stood slowly, your oversized sweatshirt hitting mid-thigh as you padded toward him, bare feet silent against the floor. “It’s huge.”

“It’s not that huge,” he said defensively, setting it down with a soft thud. “Okay. It’s a little huge. But it’s worth it. Open it?”

You gave him a look—the mix of suspicion and affection only he could inspire—then knelt to open the lid. The second you saw what was inside, your breath hitched.

It was a first edition of your favorite book. Pristine. With the original dust jacket. Your name engraved in gold on a custom leather cover.

Your hands trembled. “Spencer…”

“I found it at a rare bookseller in Vermont,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck like he hadn’t just rearranged the stars for you. “The engraving was my idea, though. I thought—”

You cut him off by launching yourself into his chest.

“You’re insane,” you choked out against him, tears already wetting your lashes. “This is insane. Why would you—? I don’t even have words, Spencer. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He laughed, wrapping his arms tight around your waist and kissing the top of your head. “You always cry when I get you stuff.”

“You always get me stuff that makes me cry!”

“You said that book changed your life,” he murmured. “I just wanted you to have something that reflects how important you are. To me. To the world.”

Your lip wobbled, and another tear escaped. “I was just reading fanfiction an hour ago. I’m not important.”

He pulled back, tilting your chin up gently. “You are the most important thing. And if buying you first editions and imported tea and handmade cardigans makes you cry happy tears, then…” He shrugged. “I’ll keep doing it.”

You sniffled. “You’re going to go broke.”

“Unlikely,” he smirked. “The FBI pays well and I’ve never had anything to spend it on until you.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m yours.”

You melted.

Ten minutes later, he was holding you on the couch, book cradled between your bodies, and you were still sniffling like he’d proposed.

“Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“…Did you order the cardigan I showed you last week?”

He smirked against your hair. “Check the closet.”

You burst into tears again.

Hehehehehehe- Anywayyyy!!! You made it this far (?) yayy!! Hope u enjoyed 😙🫶

[coquettetoji]

{ 🪩 } EREN JEAGER MOODBOARD

★ general eren hcs ★

— hot type of nerdy * defo majors in computer science

— my boy by billie eilish coded

— has hot hands ( the veiny kind with long fingers but his hands defo aren’t abnormally huge 💀 ¡ALSO WEARS RINGS! )

— probably smells like weed, mint gum, and expensive cologne. i’m thinking creed aventus with a woody type of scent

— has a silver chain, not gold obvi 👎 defo does the tiktok arm leaning against door frame chain dangling pose

— solid 6’2 maybe 6’3 depending on shoes and lean muscular

— emotion damaging fuck boy (takes ‘hurt people hurt people’ on a whole nother level but he’s hot so who cares?)

— drives a blacked out camaro with tinted windows bc uh

— doesn’t vape, but will always occasionally smoke weed

— gym bro with a sleeper build * bench is probably 265-270 and rubs it in armin’s face atleast once a week

— has 1 playlist because he listens to spotifys default made daily mixes 💀 ( daily mix 4 is always his go to )

— his actual playlist consists of the most overplayed main stream indie songs but then has rnb songs with 3k listens per month mainly from eren that lowk hit?

— mama’s boy and likes cats > dogs

— doberman boy

— has his snapchat in his insta bio with the ghost emoji next to it

— can play guitar and surprisingly well, favorite song to play is sparks by coldplay

— wears prescription clear frame glasses with the blue light lenses on them at night but wears contacts during the day

— all his $$$ comes from stocks, doesn’t have a job but is so smart when it comes to shit like that **defo has one of those metal credit cards that clink against tables 😏

— has dimples on his lower back and deep smile lines with that joker type of smile lol hot

— 3.8 gpa, math and science smart but not reading/english smart

— has a black phone with a clear case, black background, and his most used app is tiktok and messages

— wears street wear, wife beaters, baggy jeans, graphic tees, expensive sneakers, and cargos

— brown / green eyes, show more when they’re in the sun

— has a single diamond piercing on his right ear bc he’s slutty like that

{💌} new message from mica

hopefully this wasn’t a horrible first post bc i’m new to this whole thing, i’ll figure things out after a couple youtube tutorials >:)

i will gladly go emo for eren omfg he’s such a *moan*

SETTING THIS WHOLE BLOG UP SOON I PROMISE 😛

[san8ny]

Honestly, GeekSquad! Ellie

GeekSquad! Ellie who’s really got nothing going on for her other than updating her LinkedIn picture here and there, alternating between her college ID photo and a the default flower.

GeekSquad! Ellie who spends her days sitting in uncomfortable swivel chairs, and having to tiredly explain over and over again to elderly women that the promotional sign outside does NOT mean ‘hand in your old phones and get free smart ones!’

‘No ma’am, we don’t take Nokias.’

‘But the sign said give one, get one free!’

GeekSquad! Ellie who’s eyes squint in confusion when she sees you enter from the slide doors, arms crossed as you curiously look around for any standby employees. She doesn’t really ever see hot girls at her location.

GeekSquad! Ellie who practically knocks over some USB stand in her pursuit of getting to you first, which is uncommon since she’s all the way in the back.

GeekSquad! Ellie who notices your pursed lips and teary eyes as you show her your broken laptop.

GeekSquad! Ellie who takes you over to the little stand-by bar, setting your device down, which, let’s be honest, was a lost cause from the start.

‘W-will you be able to fix it? I have my senior thesis on there!’ You practically choke up, the mere thought of months of hard work going down the drain making you tremble.

GeekSquad! Ellie who’s suppose to give you the generic capitalistic answering of, ‘Well, you can always make a membership with us and get 20% off a future purch—

“I’ll fix it.”

GeekSquad! Ellie who’s now being held in a warm embrace by you, your tears now soaking her blue polo workshirt. It’s bad enough you’re pretty, but a pretty crier?

“Thank you so much! God, you don’t even know how much trouble you’ve saved me!” You stumble over words, disoriented as you begin to let go of the lanky girl.

GeekSquad! Ellie who waves a hand in dismissal, scoffing as she leans on the counter, “That thing? Pfft, i’ve done harder things.”

GeekSquad! Ellie who’s lied, and has likely lied to also get this job—but that’s beyond things!

“I just,” You say breathlessly, looking around, “I went to the other branch? Downtown? They said it was over!” You whisper to her, all doe eyed, “you really are amazing.”

GeekSquad! Ellie who blankly stares down at you, she’s always had a thing for frazzled girls such as yourself; the ones who just say the very shit Ellie only watches in cheesy movies.

‘Right..guess you’re in-luck you came here?” She probes, typing your name and number into the system to get you all checked in for an appointment.

‘So lucky.’

GeekSquad! Ellie who after her shift, goes home and makes a bee-line for her room, slamming it shut and shedding her clothes, needing to fuck herself to you while the interaction is still fresh, and the night is still young.

‘S-she said she’s—mm, lucky! f-for me..’ She whimpers, pumping 2 fingers in her drenched pussy, and her other hand busying her perky tits. Her eyes are furrowed, and her teeth threaten to break the skin of her lips from the way she’s biting them; Her messy cunt squelches from the speed she’s going at, cum trailing down her thighs in a sluggish matter.

GeekSquad! Ellie who switches on over to her tummy, raising her ass up as she relentlessly slaps at her swollen pearl through her plethora of orgasms— she thinks you’d do it like this, giving yourself something to cry about. It makes sense to her. She wants to practice on herself to perfect it for you.

GeekSquad! Ellie who, once tired out, realizes how fucked up this just is. I mean, she’s so..perverse. So nasty.. so..so..

so GeekSquad! Ellie

[gamerbot-22]

Touchstarved LIs and Cuddling

Two posts in two days? On my account? Someone pinch me!

Also half-spawned from @asexual-abomination, because we’ve had this conversation a thousand times.

TW/CWs: Potential Accidental Canon Divergence (this will probs be a warning on ALL my TS stuff until the game’s released), mentions of sleeping together but it’s purely literal and genuinely not a euphemism for sex, hand-waving the touch curse a bit, Ais is an asshole about personal boundaries, Mhin is meant to be read as combatively shy but willing, partially proofread.

Can be read as platonic or romantic! Same as before! Also I’m gonna be making a lot of references to the “No one asked but I found Mortal Kombat’s best cuddler” video by Brian David Gilbert for Polygon because it’s a good vid and you should watch it if you haven’t already!)

(One day I’ll make a custom sparkle banner for the cut, mark my words! Also rqs are open! Likes and reblogs appreciated!)

🕊️ Kuras

Definitely one of the Emotionally Vulnerable & Safe Cuddler types from BDG’s video.

I don’t think. Kuras needs to sleep? At least I don’t remember there being anything in canon to suggest that. But! I think he enjoys the occasional catnap, and can be persuaded to actually sleep with you if you ask him about it.

Like you hit him with the “isn’t a good night’s sleep supposed to be good for you?” and “shouldn’t you be a good example for your patients?” and he gives you a good-natured—if slightly stiff—chuckle as he guides you over to the cot in his office.

The cot’s kinda narrow since it’s only build for the one patient to sit/lay on it, so by default a lot of spooning/honeymoon hugging(? Spooning when you’re facing each other) is happening.

There’s not really a blanket situation happening, but he’s really warm and his hands are eternally soft so it’s just super pleasant.

And after a while he starts to get his wings involved, too. At first it’s only when you’re asleep, but later on, after you learn about his status as a fallen angel, he’s more open about it, even if he gets all shy when you ask.

And there’s something just so peaceful about how he holds you. His hands never wander, and he keeps his voice soft. The first couple times he asks to pet your hair or touch your face, and soon enough it just becomes a rhythm for the two of you. <3

🪄 Leander

This man wants to hold you SO BAD.

Literally will get on his hands and knees if you ask him to. Touchstarved isn’t just the name of the game, babes!

Brags so much about his big bed at the Wet Wick but the man is so clingy you two end up using like. 20% of it.

He’s tryna be all suave, inviting you to come over and lay your head on his chest but on the inside he is screaming.

For the first dozen times he just stays up, watching you snooze or daydream against his chest. Then after a while he starts to doze off before you do.

Definitely the type to tell you bedtime stories. Most of them are just recounting things that have already happened to/around him, but occasionally he does a little embellishing or a bit of improv for flavor.

He’s doing it to keep things interesting and maybe make himself look cooler to you? But he’s keeping it as low energy as possible so you don’t lose any sleep.

🦊 Vere

If Kuras is in the Emotionally Vulnerable and Safe Cuddler corner, Vere is on the fucking polar opposite side.

Definitely makes a big show of it the first time you ask, joking about his rates and the rules (“no kissing and hands off the tail!” shit like that.)

Also gives zero fucks about your comfort. He’s like a tiny dog taking his half of the bed out of the middle and you’re just gonna have to cope for a while.

Buuuuuut… if you talk nice, let him come to you, and show him you just want proximity and nothing else… maybe he’ll warm up.

And the jokes die down, and he gives you room to settle, and eventually he’s curling up right next to you and draping his tail over your legs.

Congrats! The cute fox boy is sharing a bed with you! Beware his flicking ears and squeak-snoring.

The whole process takes a good while, but I think it’s worth it <3

⛩️ Ais

Definitely kinda coy about sharing a sleeping place at first. It’s not Vere levels of mockery—mostly cause he doesn’t mean it the way Vere does—but Ais has a really annoying habit of getting under your skin.

But yeah, after some “arm-twisting,” he’ll let you lay down and get cozy.

He goes right to sleep more often than not, though, even if that’s not what the cuddling is for. Dude just closes his eyes and drops into dreamland like it’s nothing.

He says he’s just resting his eyes but that’s only the case maybe a third of the time.

I think he probably shares his sleeping space with Soulless, which usually means he’s all cramped up, but now that he’s only sharing the bed with one other body he takes the chance to sprawl.

You will end up flat on your back/face with Ais on top of you, it’s just a matter of when it happens.

He’s an asshole about it, too. He makes this big show of how cozy he is and how it’s been supposedly “forever” since he’s got to curl up like this, but if he gets the feeling you’re being serious he’ll get off.

🪡 Mhin

Inside of Mhin are two sleeping wolves.

One of them wants cuddles really bad but is abysmal at asking for them.

The other sleeps flat on their back like a corpse and startles awake at the slightest sound.

If you’re cuddling to pass the time instead of going to sleep Mhin gets all defensive either way. “Sounds like a waste of time when I could either just sleep or do something else” type shit.

You kinda gotta wrastle them into it, especially if they’ve been staying up for prolonged periods. “Rest isn’t sleep but it’s better than nothing.”

They’re not in the habit of initiating any of the cuddling (again, that wolf would sooner die than ask,) but if you “insist” (ask politely) they’ll let you take a crack at it, “if only to get some peace and quiet.”

If they doze off, like I said, they’ll startle awake at any sound so you’re probably not going to get a lot of sleep by proxy. But! You get to hold them and explain away all the noises, which is fun <3

[ask-the-pioneer]

Hello and welcome to @ask-the-pioneer! This is a scripted ask blog dedicated to a slugcat OC of mine called Marbles (she/her), titled the Pioneer. She is a re-interpretation of Artificer’s blue slugpup, set in a AU where the pup survives, grows up, and receives a name. The main story begins some short time after the end of Artificer’s campaign. At that point in time Marbles is already a young adult (early 20s in human years). She parts ways with Hunter - her mentor - and ventures out to seek the knowledge contained within the pearls that she was always captivated by.

This blog is run by @kalivasquez (@kalivasquezart). Keep in mind I’m not a native English speaker. There may be spelling errors or weirdly constructed sentences at times. This is my first ask-blog ever so idk what I’m doing but I’m trying my best 👍

CONTENT WARNING: This blog has content rating of +18 due to potential sensitive themes: mental trauma, depictions of violence, suicidal ideation, blood and gore, or other graphic imagery that may be uncomfortable, scarring or otherwise triggering to witness. Viewer discretion is advised. Posts containing mild themes will be tagged appropriately, while posts showing heavy themes will have "mature" filter applied to them. Please be aware that all the content shared on this blog is intended for an adult audience!

More info below the cut, including blog rules. Please read it!

Blog Rules 📜

Last update: 10th of October, 2024

By default you address the main character - Marbles, aka the Pioneer - in your asks. If you wish to inquire me directly (as an author of this blog), please include “[OOC]” at the beginning, or otherwise indicate that the message is directed at me and not the character.

Asks are answered in-character. Sometimes the character may react to your ask in a seemingly negative way. Please keep in mind that it is done from their point of view, and it does not imply that I (the author) personally reacted badly to your message.

I appreciate all the asks that I receive. However, I reserve the right to not answer some of them, at my discretion. It is not guaranteed that you receive a response. Still, I’ll try my best to answer as many messages as I can.

Be aware that some asks I receive may be skipped over, especially ones that are short and vague, in favour of more complex asks that help me push the plot of this AU forward. This is also relevant for asks that refer to the same subject (duplicates).

Please be tactful! Asks that are inappropriate or confusing in their intent (like spam, baits, asks containing slurs) will be deleted. Sorry!

Do not send me asks via direct messages (DMs)! I keep my DMs open in case someone needs to contact me for other reasons, like incorrect tagging or important offsite matters. If you send me a DM meant to be answered like an ask, your message will be ignored and deleted.

Please do not repost my art on to your own social media accounts. Honestly, don't. Anyone can see this blog without needing to log in or register on tumblr anyway.

More rules may be added later. Please check this section again periodically.

General Character Info ℹ️

As of now, this ask-blog has only one acting character - Marbles the slugcat, aka the Pioneer.

Name (given): Mirmyntasseth, Eight Marbles Cast in Stone

Title (given): the Pioneer

Nickname: Blue (for family), Marbles (for friends, after being named by an iterator)

Pronouns: she/her

Age: young adult (very early 20’s in human years)

Personality: energetic, curious, savvy, humorous, short-tempered, resilient, drive, a little naive and too trusting, exhibits mild case of abandoned child syndrome

Specific traits:

good at finding pearls (she loves them, goes about as crazy for them as scavs) and other trinkets,

knows martial arts, can incapacitate enemies by hitting their pressure points,

can craft explosive spears and grenades - they do less damage, but stun for longer; crafted explosives have deep orange color,

already has a mark of communication, granted by NSH,

Tools:

Marbles is often seen wearing a light colored “sling bag” on her back, where she keeps her pearls and other items,

at a muuuuuuch later point in time, she receives a gift from a kind interator - her very own citizen ID drone; the drone can read from pearls and translate slugcat speech into other languages.

Current reference sheet:

For more in-dept info and drawings/references of the character, please visit Marbles' ToyHouse page.

AU Timeline ⏱️

the story of Pioneer takes place some years after the end of Artificer's campaign, and begins at the same time as Hunter's campaign in-game

this AU assumes the following timeline for slugcat campaigns: Spearmaster -> Artificer -> Hunter -> Gourmand -> Survivor -> Monk -> Rivulet -> Saint,

Artificer/Hunter/Gourmand campaigns happen close together, with Hunter/Gourmand overlapping slightly; all three scugs are roughly the same age, with Arti being the oldest (early 40s), and Hunter the youngest (39),

Saint and Monk are still slugpups by the time the story of Pioneer beings,

Spearmaster is unlikely to be present in this AU as it is assumed that over 432 cycles have passed, meaning they are no longer alive,

Rivulet is unlikely to be present in this AU as here their campaign is assumed to have taken place *much *later in the future,

Saint is thought to be stuck in a time loop, and *may *appear in this AU.

AU Setting 📝

Pioneer’s Backstory (before the events described in this ask blog):

Marbles/Blue (the Pioneer) was born in the Garbage Wastes area, raised by a single mother (Artificer); the other parent remains unknown,

she had a sibling (who was also the runt of the litter) - a brother named Bryn, the green slugpup; the two were fraternal twins,

she got separated from the rest of her family in a scav toll incident,

was not killed, but abducted instead by the scavenger toll tribe, brought into their local shelter just before the rain started,

initially assumed to have been taken in as a fodder in case of predator attack,

in the end she has earned her keep when she learned how to make grenades and explosive spears, turning herself into a valuable asset for the tribe,

was treated fairly well, but never truly incorporated into the local scavenger community,

had stayed with the tribe for many cycles, learning how to fight and survive, but also how to look for valuables (mainly pearls) and haggle with other tribes,

could probably have run away, but she held on to hope that mom would come back for her,

whenever she got “lost”, the tribe would look for her to bring her back,

after one of her short solo expeditions, she came back to the camp only to find out the entire scav tribe has been wiped out,

ran away and been wandering aimlessly for a while, eventualy stumbling upon Hunter who adopted her, took back to NSH's superstructure, and underwent training alongside him (under NSH’s supervision),

promised to accompany Hunter during his important mission, but had to suddenly part ways due to unfortunate circumstances (just before the beginning of Hunter’s campaign).

Post Tagging 🏷️

I use the following tags:

#rain world, #rain world oc, #rain world au - default tags added to all answered asks (unless OOC),

#rain world spoilers - is included in posts that may spoil RW lore, for example: when answers hint to the conclusion of Artificer’s campaign,

#rw - rain world-specific characters that are present in a post, such as: “#rw hunter” or “rw five pebbles”; i will try to use the full name(s) intead of abbreviations,

#au lore - posts that contain important worldbuilding information for my AU,

#ooc- out of character posts, or anything else that doesn’t fall under “rain world” umbrella,

(more tags will be added to this section once I actually start posting stuff)

I also tag sensitive content with appropriate tags like #tw [trigger], if shown.

Text Key 💬

Most dialogue takes form of narrated drawings, where Marbles speaks in her own voice. The speeches are a part of the drawings themselves.

However, if a post contains additional text, the following key is used:

Narration

The road was long and arduous, and she was glad to have finally found a shelter.

(Thoughts)

(This place is full of scavengers, I should be able to trade those pearls for some food)

“Speaking”

“How come you have not seen a vulture before? Climb up to Sky Islands, they are everywhere!”

//OOC

// more art coming soon woohoo!

Credits 📑

image in the blog's header belongs to Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

Yoŋasabi script (slugcat language, original conlang) in the top banner by @opashoo

all the other drawings posted on this blog were made by me, unless stated otherwise

[cupidsworstcrime]

teehee hey @goatgoesmbe i said 20 minutes, it is here in 30 minutes, sorry its late pooks

Gaz x Reader

You’d never seen Gaz like this before. The calm, collected, almost annoyingly confident man you were used to was nowhere to be found. Instead, you had him at your mercy—his breath ragged, his hands trembling as they gripped at your body like he was trying to hold onto something solid in a storm.

"Fuck, I didn’t mean—sorry, fuck," he muttered, his voice hoarse as his lips dragged along your neck. Every word was punctuated with desperate, almost frantic apologies. "I didn’t think I’d get this—fuck. You feel so good."

He didn’t even seem to care anymore that he was a complete mess, that his usual composure had completely shattered. His mind was elsewhere, overwhelmed with the sensations of you. His hands gripped at your hips, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t get enough of you, like every inch of your body was some sort of lifeline he couldn’t let go of.

"You sure you want this?" you teased lightly, knowing full well the effect it had on him. His reply was immediate—so needy, so uncharacteristically desperate.

"Yes, yes, please—god, don’t stop," he begged, his forehead resting against your shoulder. His breath was hot against your skin as he continued, muttering under his breath like he couldn’t stop even if he tried. "I’m sorry for everything, fuck... I shouldn’t have been such an asshole earlier. You’re all I can think about, please... I’ll make it up to you. I swear, I’ll make it up to you."

You could feel him twitch beneath you, the effort to keep himself together clearly taking all his focus. His usual arrogance had been replaced by an almost feverish need, his body moving against you in a way that was equal parts frantic and reverent.

"Please," he whispered again, voice barely above a rasp as he looked up at you with dark, pleading eyes. "I’ll do anything... fuck, just let me show you how much I need you."

It wasn’t just a sexual experience for him; it was like some sort of religious experience, like being this close to you was something sacred, something he wasn’t prepared for but couldn’t live without once he had it. His hands tightened on you again, his grip shaky but possessive. "I swear, I swear I didn’t mean to act like that, I—I’m sorry for everything. Just don’t leave me."

His words faltered, and he kissed you harder, more desperate than before, as if it would somehow make up for the mistakes he had made. You could hear the apology in every kiss, every touch, and it was all so real—raw, vulnerable, and undeniably Gaz.

He was a man who didn’t beg often. But for you? He was begging like he was losing everything, and it was exactly what you wanted.

"God, you're all I can think about," he whispered between kisses, his voice thick with need. "Don’t stop, don’t ever stop."

He was a mess, a babbling, begging mess—and for the first time, it was exactly what you needed.

You stirred beneath the sheets, sore but buzzing, your skin still tingling from everything that had just happened. The room was quiet now, save for the soft hum of the fan and the distant beat of your heart still trying to slow itself down.

Kyle sat at the edge of the bed, back turned, head in his hands.

He hadn't said a word since it ended.

You watched him for a moment, studying the tension in his shoulders. That perfect soldier stance, the one he defaulted to when he didn’t know what else to do. And fuck, he didn’t know what to do now.

You shifted, the sheets rustling, and his spine straightened like you’d just drawn a gun on him.

“Kyle,” you said gently.

His head dropped lower into his hands with a groan. “Fuck.”

“Hey,” you crawled closer behind him, arms circling his waist. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he bit out. “I’m supposed to be the one in control, and—fuck, I was begging. Crying. Like a—” He stopped himself, but you could hear the self-directed venom in his voice.

“Like a man who felt something,” you finished for him. “Like someone who trusted me enough to fall apart.”

“That’s not how this is supposed to go,” he muttered, still not facing you. “You’re not supposed to see me like that. I’m supposed to have you crying. Not the other way around.”

You kissed the back of his shoulder, slow and grounding. “I liked seeing you like that.”

He gave a dry, bitter laugh. “Course you did. Got me down there sobbing on your chest like I’m some fucking rookie. Can’t even look at you.”

You slid your hand up his chest, fingers grazing his throat, gently pulling his head back until he was forced to glance over his shoulder at you.

“I don’t want a robot, Kyle. I want you. The man who goes feral for me and apologizes halfway through fucking because he’s so deep in it he forgets what planet he’s on. You can cry all you want. Doesn’t make you any less of a man. Especially not to me.”

He swallowed hard, jaw clenched. “…I wanted to wreck you.”

“You did.”

“Didn’t feel like it,” he said under his breath.

You smirked, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth. “You made me cum three times.”

He blinked. “...Wait. Three?”

“Uh huh.”

A long beat. Then, very quietly:

“…Still embarrassing.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled him back into bed. “Then you’ll just have to fuck me again when you’ve recovered your ego.”

He huffed. But he curled into you anyway.

[cripplecharacters]

Hey so first off, absolutely love your blog. I have learned so much and I can hardly wait to implement it! My question is: I have a character with vitiligo (and’s Celiac’s and rheumatoid arthritis) in a comic book I’m working on, and I want to represent that, but the problem is the comic is abstractly colored to display the characters’ emotions rather than their actual physical appearances, and my art style is designed to be pretty minimalist so I don’t need huge amounts of time and energy to actually make the comic itself (I’ll attach a picture at the bottom for easier reference). My current plan is just make lighter patches of the abstract color in place of skin color, but while that works great in theory, in practice it doesn’t show up well in lighter colors, including his default color, and since absence of color indicates absence of emotion, I don’t want to just leave them blank for the lighter colors either. Do you guys have any suggestions for alterations so I can more clearly represent that?

Thank you so much in advance!!

This is the guy in his default color. This was also the drawing I first ran into the light color problem with

Hey!

So I don't really think there are other ways to draw it than “lighter skin” for vitiligo, as that's kinda what it is, visually speaking.

What I'd keep in mind is that vitiligo isn't always super visible.

[source for images: 1 2 3 4]

If the character's skin color changes, then the vitiligo patches will be less visible when it's lighter. That doesn't mean he suddenly doesn't have it, just like how people with pale skin still have their vitiligo, no matter how apparent it is at first glance.

Regardless of skin color, vitiligo patches will tend to be of a very similar color - it's not just lighter skin (an incredibly wide category), but loss of pigment.

However, if his skin isn't human-colored but instead gray or green (or anything else), the shade of the patches will slightly shift to be less saturated or have a different undertone. But if he goes between going dark blue and light blue, the vitiligo would still be the same shade of very light blue, rather than getting darker when the rest of skin is darker. I see this a lot with how people draw characters with vitiligo, and it just Doesn't Work Like That (top right on the image above, also featuring the trope of pale people never having vitiligo for some reason).

If his skin color constantly shifts, then his vitiligo will be more visible one time and less at other times - there's not much you can do about that, it's just how contrast works. That said, sharp-edged and larger patches will be more apparent to readers than smaller ones.

So basically his vitiligo patches should probably float at a similar amount of pigment regardless of how the rest of the skin looks like, with slightly different undertones depending on the skin color at the moment. Sometimes it will show up more, sometimes less, if you want to make it clear to the readers then you can first show him in a color that makes it more obvious.

Either way, he has vitiligo!

Hope this helps,

mod Sasza

[glasskey]

Season 6 Chaos Theory Sample Mix

So we’ve finally received some S6 tasters in the form of trailers and press releases and having read and seen these I feel like a good old fashioned rant is in order. I’ll stick mostly to the Nick, June and Luke thing, because well that’s what most of you came for. Be warned, this will be absolutely brutal. If you haven’t seen the press releases or read The Testaments then just note there are spoilers in here. The first thing I want people to remember is that while the writers of this show have done a great job of setting up the transition to The Testaments, but in my time I have seen writers take a LOT of license with their source material. In this particular case, the show has been consulting closely with the author so that might lend some hope to the fact that it’s been respected. Atwood’s been a little intentionally obscure in parts of both texts, and it’s given the writers the ability to get creative. The Testaments DOES make mention of Nick and June (we CAN assume this regardless of the lack of names, as they’re referred to as the actual parents of baby Nicole), and one passage in particular where Elijah says to Daisy about her parents “They’re still alive. Or they were yesterday”. So either Elijah saw them both the day before TOGETHER, or he’s been running back and forth over the border. However, later on Nick’s referred to as maybe still being in Gilead, so yeah confusing. Apparently both of Daisy’s parents are “lucky to be alive” in The Testaments so I’m going to go out on a limb and say Nick escapes by the skin of his teeth. Having said that I didn’t like that sneaky “our baby” shit Luke pulled at the end of last season and writers may try to use it as some kind of weird assed loophole.

The end note in The Testaments does include him so it would be a huge violation to the actual text to kill him off. It all seems out of step with all the other elements that have been carefully laid out true to text as well. It IS mentioned in The Handmaids Tale that Nick was associated with Mayday and the trailers for previous seasons included him in the whole “we are Mayday” section, so I’m disappointed to see that show runners / writers SEEM to have back tracked here. Just be mindful that from day one we’ve seen Mayday agents, drivers and guards die; the manifestations of Nick in his many forms through the seasons. Characters often end up embodying the fates that they warn others of; Beth warned him that involving himself with a handmaid was a good way to end up on the wall (and we all know what happened to Beth). Nick told June TWICE that she could and WOULD die in Gilead. So maybe a few chants in the prayer circle for our young commander couldn’t hurt. Lets be crystal clear ALL of this is just speculation because well, as of yet just like everyone else, I haven't seen a single episode. The whole “shadow of death” phrase accompanied with a shot of Nick gives pause for thought. He’s been kicking around Gilead as the resident angel of Death for some time and make no mistake this particular shot was included to symbolize the threat of death, in particular to the rebellion. Once again, disappointing.

The press releases have stated that Blaine betrays June at some point this season but I have to say in terms of viewer acceptance, this is risky. It’s a HUGE vault to take from a character with moral grain with a deep emotional connection to the protagonist; to one that’s decided to throw all in against her, with a fascist regime he’s hated serving. These types of character transitions if not delivered properly are deadly to any sort of audience connection. If they don’t believe they are POSSIBLE, then their disbelief spreads to ALL of the surrounding characters and the entire storyline by default. If they want to 180 this character from “a good man in Gilead” to Voldemort, they currently lack the goods with which to back it up, and they don’t have much time to construct them. Seems like a fairly swift deconstruction of a character, from one who ran to June’s bedside and punched Lawrence in a room full of commanders, to one that would actually betray her. With a press release citing that without the love goggles, June now sees Nick for who he is and what he’s capable of, audiences NEED to understand that in the context of any love story, it’s hard, if not impossible to come back from that. After show runners have almost guaranteed the entire obliteration of his character in her eyes, their relationship may end up as nothing but a smoking wreck. One can only hope that love does truly keep no record of wrongs.

As always watch for character placement on screen, Blaine’s usually positioned to her right side to indicate worship, succession and the sharing of power. When he starts shifting, you’ll know the dynamics are starting to change. Minghella cited his relationship with Rose as a factor in his waning patience with June, and as somewhat of an innocent I can see her being sacrificed, to incite Blaine’s rage in the context of the story line. But the idea that he’d somehow be transformed into a cold dead eyed monster defies belief. Is this the SAME Blaine that smuggled letters? That cried over a dead handmaid? That brought her Fred? That ran to her bedside? Too often audiences simply swallow content they’re fed without question, well this season I’ll be expecting some plausible explanations. I have to wonder about the timing of daddy dearest showing up IMMEDIATLEY after Blaine’s relationship fell apart with Rose. No doubt Rose would have told him that it was Osborne who came between them and daddy may have decided to sever the two once and for all. It is true that Nick’s impressionable and I can see Wharton being cast as the evil presence who tries to break apart the two lovers by exploiting Nick’s desire for guidance. As Blaine once said “some men need to be led.” June is depicted in a red gown striding amongst an army of handmaids, the implication here being that she too is a commander and as such this season will see Nick and June go head to head, with Wharton at the leash. Will Gilead succeed in breaking them apart? Apparently Tuello ends up with only Lawrence as his ally which kind of pisses me off that he’s being rewarded with a redemption arc of kinds while Nick gets cast into the cold. We’ll have to wait and see but that WOULD be a very big fuck you very much, for all the struggles he’s endured to remain moralistically intact in the Hell hole of Lawrence’s making.

Now way, way, way up the back of The Testaments is mention of a handful of plots by commanders to off a bunch of the elite commanders that triggers the purges, and it looks like that’s where we’re going this season. I do think that a sizeable amount of handmaid’s will pay with their lives as a consequence. No revolution comes without sacrifice, it’s just historical fact so get ready for the carnage. It appears they’ve decided to paint Luke as a hero and Nick as a villain this season very possibly to show their ultimate true faces. I can't help but wonder how fair these journeys comparatively EVER were. If Nick was always doomed to fall by spending literally YEARS in the dark prison of Gilead, then how easy is it for Luke to shine having spent all of his time on the couch in a free country? To quote June herself “Gilead turns you into a bit of a cunt.” How fair has this comparison EVER been when one came from poverty and the other lived a comfortable life? While Nick has been damned for his choice to join the SOJ, the choices that Luke’s life initially afforded him, certainly made all the difference. I do wonder how fair it is to paint the vulnerable, targeted poor as ultimately villainous? Now Blaine lives in a large house surrounded by all the comforts that Gilead has ensnared him with, if he throws his lot in with Mayday, he burns his whole life down. In comparison the now transient Luke has literally nothing to lose and everything to gain by joining the Rebellion. Is the destruction of Nick nothing more than a demonstration of the corruptive society he has lived in for so long? By painting him as a villain are we acknowledging his trauma or even the rigged game that spawned him? If their plans are to send her back into the arms of her, up until very recently, sheltered and complacent hubby, I’ll want answers. Revolution can be a comparatively easy act when you don’t live under a regime for over a decade, when the fist doesn’t tighten constantly or corrupt you in increments. To Luke it would seem natural to kick against it, unfortunately for Nick he’s been “groomed” since day one with the final stranglehold of a Gilead wife and kiddy to keep him in line.

After seasons of representing Luke as a homebody who practically had to be extricated from his house in the burbs, even after someone ran over his wife right in front of it, they’ve now decided that Luke has actually been full of gun toting moxy all along. Yep, he’s suddenly going to run rampant all over Gilead with hand grenades and a machine gun….ridiculous. Last season we saw him go from “lets file paperwork” to Mr gimme a gun, in the space of ONE SINGLE episode, simply because Serena gave him some shit about Nick. Had the guy stayed in Canada and rallied with Tuello, I would have believed his character arc, but THIS is a bridge too far. I would have absolutely bought Luke as a Mayday strategist, neck deep in the paperwork he thrives on. I have to say, I am not loving this journey for him at all.

I’ve never before experienced a show try to persistently foist a character on audiences as they have done Luke. Most of the audience didn’t like him, the feedback on social media was pretty loud and the shows response seems to have been to simply include more content with the hopes that sooner or later audiences would relent and embrace him with open arms. Despite their best efforts, to quote the classic “Mean Girls”; “Fetch just isn’t going to happen.” and I don’t think it ever has. To be honest they not only haven’t been able to really endear Luke to the majority of fans, but they’ve had to work flat out over the last season to even remotely level the scores between these two men, basically by marrying Nick off and knocking up his wife. Comparative to Nick and June’s fiery romance, moments of intimacy between Luke and June felt like oatmeal through a feeding tube. Perhaps there’s a reason for this, maybe it’s intentional, like Miller said; June sees their relationship as “work”. Much in the same way they’ve intentionally built Nick and June to be far more romantic in nature, but as we keep being told again and again; it’s not exactly practical. At this point in the journey I don't know how many people are too concerned with practicalities; they've been dangling a bucket of candy in front the audience for seasons now, so the kiddies can hardly be blamed for wanting to stuff their faces.

I guess Nick’s character annihilation would make sense plot wise, because well, Luke’s so fucking boring that SOMETHING had to be done to sabotage Nick’s appeal. Ultimately their solution has been to virtually turn Luke into Nick with Luke sporting Nicks trademark black coats, ala season 1, (like we wouldn’t notice) and roiding him up with a gun and a few hand grenades. Similarly Nicks now in New Bethlehem in some cushy digs with a wife and kiddy on the way. But to quote Atwood’s Handmaid’s Tale itself: “They cannot be exchanged, one for the other. They cannot replace each other. Nick for Luke, Luke for Nick.” June wasn't going for it then, and I'm not either.

There’s also the small matter of June’s right to choose. Death or betrayal in a love triangle is actually a violation of the element of choice by our protagonist. It reeks of sabotage. These outcomes subvert any ability by the protagonist to actually CHOOSE and instead determines, at least in part, the outcome for her. Unimpressed. It also calls into question writer intent. What exactly is the message here after 5 seasons of him “trying to stay out of trouble” and then finally growing the spine to stand up to Gilead? Is it to keep your head down and shut up while the fascist regime takes hold? If he betrays her, what’s the lesson here? Never trust anyone? Love is a lie? Evil triumphs in the human spirit? Redemption is impossible? Are audiences to be dragged through 5 and half seasons of heartbreak, just to have their hearts crushed once again? It seems particularly heartless to rope audiences fully back into this “Nick and June” love triangle only to cut it off at the knees. The fact that they’re resurrecting it, simply to butcher it completely speaks to a whole new level of cruelty. It’s all looking a bit Star Wars with Nick as the young Vader, right down to shots where he seems to emanate a red glow (please see below) to symbolize danger. But I do wonder, have they honestly waited until now to visit upon audiences a full demonstration of Gilead’s corruptive influences?

The press releases seem to have made a point several times of mentioning that he was a commander, while that’s true I do wonder how a “why thanks but no thanks” would have gone down when it was originally presented to him. There’s no debating that Nick signed up in the beginning for SOJ, but scripts showed that he was vulnerable, targeted and quickly disgusted by its machinations. So if this ENTIRE plot was designed to be a tragic cautionary tale of a lambs slaughter at the hands of a regime, I’ll be horrified at the lengths to which they’ve drawn it out. These maneuverings all seem so incredibly cruel that an audience could not be blamed for switching off and never coming back for any other trips on the long, slow pain train spin offs. Why would they? The pain of attaching to beloved characters only to have them utterly decimated is not something viewers tend to wish to revisit. Last seasons are tricky, there’s a lot of expectation wrapped up in them as writers attempt to bookend characters and yet leave their journeys open for a possible revisit. A good last episode on a good last season is an even rarer thing, and if the endings not done right, audiences are loathe to even start the journey. A bad last episode is like poison, and the thing that content creators don’t seem to understand is that and audiences don’t actually NEED an amazing battle with explosions and 3 separate endings….they just need good. An ending that can live beyond itself, just an act of redemption, throw in a hint of tomorrow and you’re all good. Seriously, it’s all we want.

GOT had a notorious fiery trash bag of a last episode and it’s not the only one. Films now run 3 hours long and it seems that somewhere along the way the editor either fell asleep or just went home. In the effort to always be better, bigger, louder and larger, creators will often shoot too high or go too obscure. Go too big and you can fall really hard, go too small and it can feel unfinished, do whatever you want despite audience feedback and they will fucking hate you and avoid any of your future offerings. With the Testaments in play that last one is a particularly bad idea, certainly writer integrity is important but audience engagement is key. It’s interesting to think of Nick and June, at the end of the day, being reduced to dollars and cents. Their audience participation has simply become so large that an unhappy ending between the two will literally cost the studio and streaming services a gazillion dollarinos.

It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen a couple dictate the direction of a series, determine its success or failure and consequently, the size of a studios profits. It's not unusual to see spinoffs and seasons get cancelled because a deep character connection has been dissolved and the audience has followed suit. I hate to think of one single plot twist poisoning the well of a beautiful and epic 5 season long love story. After watching seasons of painful goodbyes I really don’t have the stomach for another one and I grow weary of season finales that leave audiences hollow and despondent like a depressing 1970’s movie. It's worth keeping in mind that just maybe these show runners and writers NEVER anticipated the type of enthusiasm that they received for the connection between these two characters and they've consequently had to roll with it. Seasons later we have a PR machine cranking overtime, they drop a bit of controversy about this love triangle and sure enough everyone takes the bait. Let's face it, people have lost their ever lovin minds and the folks at PR central must be LOVING it. Nick and June’s romance all seems to have been a bit of a mish mash of Casablanca and Romeo and Juliet from the get go, and both of those ended up in a whole big bunch of fuck you to any hope of real happiness. Casablanca holds its place after 80 years as one of the most timeless tales of love and sacrifice for the greater good, and if these two see any sort of conclusion that doesn’t involve a blade or noose, I suspect that’s what they might be going for here. The fact that it was released around the time of the German invasion shouldn’t be lost on audiences either. It had a lot to say about sacrifice and courage in the face of adversity during war, specifically fascism. Regardless of the life lessons that writers and show runners are attempting to teach, after 6 seasons of drawn out heartbreak, this one is going to feel really, really unkind.

To be brutally honest I’d prefer to watch Blaine die serving Mayday than see him betray June and have their love corrupted. After all the sacrifices he’s made, I’m horrified they couldn’t even afford him that small dignity, and I fucking swear if I have to watch him turn to poison and then die in the dirt, I will burn my TV (season 3 of Severance be damned). Then again, if this is all just a set up for the Battle Royale for his soul, I’ll be absolutely gagging to see June fight for it tooth and nail.

[bajibitch]

Silly me - Clark Kent

"Your name?" The receptionist’ voice pulled you out of the shock you felt being at the infamous Daily Planet. You managed to say your name but it came out a bit shaky and he let out a soft chuckle. "You'll fit in great." The space you'd be working in was small like you expected but seeing the surrounding work spaces was a bit intimidating. It was easy to get distracted picking up pieces of the stories they chatted about but the dizziness that came with it was enough to remind you to focus. Where would you start, how was it that people found stories again?

“First day?” Looking up from your desk, you met a pair of enchanting blue eyes on a beautiful face. The smile he wore didn’t make it any easier to turn away. Your face was hot from the lack of preparedness, hopefully, he didn’t think you were forming a crush, it’d be embarrassing, he’d be right but you wouldn’t admit it.

“Is it obvious?” You thought you were playing it off well given that you managed to type out an exaggerated amount of the food article with little effort. “What am I doing wrong?” Surely an employee wouldn’t interrupt your work for nothing, or so you thought.

“Nothing, you seem to have it handled.” He eyed the screen with your nearly complete work. “I’m still cramming in yesterday's story.” His laugh was going to be in your mind later. Although it was short it managed to sound so wholesome and warming in the small time it had. “It’s just, I've never seen you around before.” His arm was resting on the computer monitor, if he was anyone else it would’ve irked you but he had good intentions so you’d ignore it for now.

“I started today, used to work at a different company in Oklahoma.“

“How was it there?” You considered offering him a chair to sit in since it felt as if he planned on hearing your life story.

“Given that it was my first job in journalism it’ll always have a special place in my heart, but I wanted to be somewhere more interesting.”

“You didn’t catch any stories?”

“Nothing worth mentioning, I did an article on food and the impacts of-” Nothing worth mentioning but I’ll list every one. You put a hand to your forehead as you cursed yourself for not catching the prattling sooner.

“Why’d you stop?” He took a glance around the office and stared back at you. “Something wrong?”

“No,” you sighed and went back to typing out your work. “I just have to finish this.”

“I’ll be out your hair then. It was nice meeting you… I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t get yours either.”

“Clark. Clark Kent.” You stopped your typing and locked eyes with him once again.

“Y/n.”

“Well, y/n, I’ll catch you later.”

The strange thing for you is that usually when people tell you that, they never meant it. It was more like an, I’ll see you should we meet again kinda ordeal, not a follow you out of the office kinda thing.

“What is it, Clark?” You turned to see him not too far behind. His suit seemed a tad too big for him but it added a soft look to him.

“Just checking in on you. How’d you feel about the job? It’s not too much is it?”

“You aren’t from here either, are you?” He tilted his head and his lips parted but nothing came out. “You’re nicer than plenty of the people I’ve met so far. Some of them get irritated from my smile alone.” That’s why you learned to hold a poker face, the city lost its charm rather quickly when you arrived. His shoulders dropped and his lips had its default curve that made him sweet on the eyes.

“I used to live out in the country too, but as much as they tried, they could never break my smile.” Oh, you had to admit by now that he was hard to hate, not that you ever did. His spirit was almost contagious, the smile on your face showing he already infected you, maybe a harmless work crush wouldn’t be bad after all.

“Ready to go?” The both of you turned to the woman who needed no introduction, her work spoke for itself, she was a bit of a celebrity herself. You were shocked to see him kiss her with no hesitation and looked away from the affection. It was clear he had no qualms with showing his love.

“See you, tomorrow.” Fuck my life. When you buckled yourself into the seat and began to drive away, you couldn’t help laughing at how naïve you were to think he wouldn’t be in a relationship.

[sxfterhearts]

10:49pm - late night calls.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ idol!jiung x reader ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

♡ genre/warnings: fluff inspired by late night calls mv ♡

♡ word count: 1,219 words

♡ summary: late night calls - p1h

♡ author’s note: just a short one i smashed out tonight bc choi jiung is so lovely and i am falling head over heels for the p1h boys ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ also pics cred to the lovely tumblr owners!!!

//

“Jiung, sparkly heart shape, mouse emoji, is calling. Pick it up.” Siri’s automated voice filtered through your wired headphones, causing you to grind your skateboard to a halt. You hefted the newly purchased skateboard and rested it against your thigh, no easy feat.

Your heart thudded dully against your chest with a quickening tempo that exceeded the vibrations of your default iPhone ringtone. This was the first ever call you’ve received from your boyfriend of two months, and you were not sure how to act.

With the timidness of a baby mouse, your fingers tightly grasped your phone and swiped across the screen. “Hello?” You said, almost in a whisper, small and uncertain.

“Y/N? Ah, you picked up.” Jiung’s familiar voice sounded in your ears, as though he was standing right next to you. It wasn’t as clear and crisp as you would’ve liked though, as you could just make out the distant blares of sirens and car horns in the faraway background.

“Jiung. What time is it? Isn’t it late for you? Have you eaten? How was the show? What are you up to?” The questions tumbled past your lips before you had a chance to stop them.

“Woah, calm down.” Jiung teased, a deep chuckle drifting out of his lips, straight past your earphones and into your heart. You could almost feel the rumble of his chest as he took a second to compose himself. “Eager, aren’t we?”

“I mean,” You mumbled, more to yourself than to him. “It’s the first time we’ve called, after all…”

“That’s right, I didn’t think of that.” He replied thoughtfully. “Well, to answer your questions in order: it is currently 10:49pm, so not too late as we’re still adjusting to the timezones. We had galbijjim at this super popular spot in KoreaTown that was twice the size of any galbijjim I’ve ever seen in Korea and absolutely flooded with cheese. Oh, and the show was great, as usual. I’ll send you some cool videos of myself after this. And I’m not up to much. Some of the kids wanted to go for a stroll to get a glimpse of the New York night life, but I’m feeling pretty tired. Keeho is helping our manager with the logistics for our next tour stop. Theo is watching videos and being very loud, as usual. I’m just…”

“Where are you? Inside? It must be cold at night.”

“No. Yes? Sort of? Well,” You could hear Jiung’s soft grunts as he shuffled around in the background, getting comfortable. “I’m sitting on a windowsill. Trust me, it’s not as dangerous as it sounds. You know how in all those old American movies; the New York apartments that always have those tiny balconies with fire escapes? Yeah, I’m just sitting on that, getting a bit of the night air.”

“Wow, that sounds so cool.” You couldn’t help the wonderstruck grin that made its way onto your lips. “I wish I could take a photo of that.”

“Yeah? I’ll take a selfie and send one to you then.” Jiung answered.

“Or we could just video call?” You suggested, somewhat apprehensively.

“We could, of course, but that’s not as fun, is it?” Jiung countered, ever so gently, conscious to not leave you feeling rejected. “I’d love to see your pretty face and all, but I feel like the voice-only call is a lot more intimate, no? You can only hear my voice, and the rest is up to your imagination. It’s kinda romantic. Like a romantic late-night call.”

You nodded, cheeks reddening up even at the slightest things – like how he called you pretty, or how he was trying to create a romantic atmosphere for the two of you. The relationship was so fresh, and every little thing felt like it was big enough to make your heart pound right out of its chest. “Yeah,” You agreed breathlessly, momentarily forgetting that he can’t see you. “I guess it is.”

“So, what’s my girl doing at this hour?”

Your stomach did several somersaults, and you took a small breath to calm yourself before answering, “I’m at the Han River. It’s around noon, and I’m just practicing a bit of skateboarding before I meet my friends later. We’re going to watch a movie and hang out at a café. Oh, and I had kimbap for lunch. At the place you recommended!” At the mention of food, you immediately got excited. “It was so good! I had the tuna wasabi and special tonkatsu ones. And the kimbap ahjumma was so nice, she gave me a free drink!”

“Did she? I’m glad then. She probably knows that I recommended you – she’s always giving me free service when I go with the boys.” Jiung smiled at the thought of you visiting his favourite kimbap spot and happily eating your food. You were going around to the places he frequents in Seoul and leaving your mark there, making your own memories. It warmed his insides to think that when he got back, you could both visit those places together and create new, precious memories. “Oh, but skateboarding? Are you on your own?”

“Yup! I’m getting pretty good now, Ji! Not as good as you, of course, but I’m starting to get the hang of it.” You reported back proudly, grip tightening around your skateboard, pink and sparkly, just like the bows in your pigtails.

“I’m proud of you, but Y/N,” Jiung audibly sucked in a breath, “Isn’t that a bit dangerous? What if you fall? Who’s gonna help you up when I’m not there?”

You giggled in response. That was your Jiung, always poised to help you if you ever needed him and constantly ready at your beck and call. “I’ll be fine! I swear. I don’t even go as fast.”

“Okay, well promise me you’ll go slow and try not to do anything too crazy. I’ll teach you more when I get back.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You smiled sweetly, gazing out at the serene view of the Han River, secretly wishing that your beloved was not on the other side of the world so you could share this view with him.

“Twenty more days, Y/N…” Jiung muttered, almost as if he read your mind through the phone. “Twenty more days, four hundred and eighty more hours, twenty-eight thousand and eight hundred more minutes, and way more seconds before I can see you again, my love. Just twenty days, but why does it feel so far away?” He said rhetorically.

“I know,” You pouted in response. “I miss you heaps, Ji.”

“Me too, baby. I promise when I get back, we’ll get – ”

“Pizza! There’s this new place in Itaewon I really wanna try.”

Jiung laughed heartedly. “Okay, we’ll get pizza in Itaewon, and go for a skate along the river. And have a ramyeon and kimbap picnic at the park for dinner. How does that sound?”

“Perfect.”

//

Jiung: Sent a photo [11:17pm]

Y/N: I’ve seen this!! Woahhh Choi Jiung, are you Korea’s next Justin Beiber? [11:17pm]

Jiung: (¬◾_◾) I’m just cool like that. [11:18pm]

Y/N: I also saw you tearing up at the ending ment… [11:18pm]

Y/N: So precious (╥ ω ╥) [11:18pm]

Jiung is typing…

Jiung: Hey! I… I was just emotional, okay (｡>﹏<) [11:20pm]

[m4rv3l-girl]

Curiosity

Bucky x Y/N

Bucky has a question. One Y/N did not expect.

Requests Open - See Blog!

Warnings: Mentions of sex. Bucky being a precious little thing..

"Y/N?"

The familiar sound of Bucky's voice drifted from the living room, a mix of curiosity and hesitation woven into the single utterance of her name.

Immediately, Y/N felt the prickle of anticipation that had become second nature since they’d moved in together. Bucky's endless stream of questions had started innocently enough—about pop culture, slang, or even the latest in music. Every day brought a new inquiry as he tried to fit into a society that had changed so drastically since the 1940s.

But every now and then, a question came up that was... a little less innocent.

She made her way down the hallway, half expecting to find Bucky with his phone in hand, ready to show her some bizarre internet meme or picture that had left him puzzled. Yet when she stepped into the living room, what greeted her was entirely different.

Bucky sat in the corner of the couch, hunched over, his hands clasped loosely between his knees. His steel-blue eyes, normally so focused and sharp, were trained on the floor. His brow furrowed ever so slightly as if he were wrestling with something in his head. It was an unusual sight—he looked more serious than usual, contemplative in a way that tugged at something deep inside her.

"Yeah?" she prompted gently, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe, trying to break whatever spell he was under.

At the sound of her voice, Bucky looked up. His expression softened when his eyes met hers, and a small, almost sheepish smile pulled at the corner of his lips. He seemed relieved to see her, yet that tension in his shoulders hadn’t fully dissipated.

"I just... have a question," he said slowly, as if trying to ease into the conversation.

Y/N raised an eyebrow but moved across the room, lowering herself onto the couch next to him. The fabric gave way under her weight, and she could feel the warmth radiating off his body as she settled in.

They had grown close since living together—comfortably so—but every now and then, he could still surprise her with the bluntness of his questions. Something in his voice, though, told her this wasn’t one of his usual inquiries.

She turned to face him, nodding her head in silent encouragement.

"What’s edging?"

The question was so unexpected that she nearly choked on her own breath. Y/N blinked, her brain scrambling to catch up with what he had just said. Did I hear that right? She turned to him, wide-eyed, as she processed the bluntness of his question.

"You—you what?" she managed to stammer out, her voice strangled as she fought the urge to laugh or cry—maybe both.

Bucky's brow furrowed further, his mouth pulling into a frown as he looked at her with genuine confusion. He shifted awkwardly in his seat, almost as if he regretted asking in the first place.

"I, uh... I read it. Somewhere." He rubbed the back of his neck, an action she had come to recognize as his default when he was unsure of something. "Is it bad? If it is, you don’t have to—"

"No, it’s not... bad. I’ll tell you," Y/N interrupted, cutting him off before he spiraled into some apology about making her uncomfortable. She could already feel her cheeks heating up. "It’s just... kind of inappropriate. But not your fault you don’t know these things." She smiled awkwardly. "Plus, you’re an adult."

Bucky shifted again, this time leaning back slightly, still looking uncomfortable but more curious now. His fingers twitched on his leg, betraying the tension he was holding inside. He glanced away from her, as though mentally scolding himself for making things awkward.

"Thanks," he mumbled. "Maybe you could teach me how to use the Google better after this so I don’t need to keep asking you stuff like this all the time."

At that, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh softly. His words were so sincere, almost innocent despite the heavy subject. The sound of her laughter lightened the tension in the air, and even Bucky cracked a small, embarrassed smile.

"Sure, I’ll teach you how to use ‘the Google,’" she teased, the warmth of her voice softening the edge of the conversation. But the humor faded quickly as they both remembered the question that had yet to be answered.

Bucky cleared his throat again, straightening himself. His eyes flickered to hers, and suddenly, the room felt smaller, the weight of his curiosity palpable in the space between them. "Right," he said quietly. "So, edging..."

Y/N took a deep breath, her palms rubbing against her jeans. Never thought I’d be explaining this to Bucky Barnes of all people, she mused to herself.

She felt a strange fluttering in her stomach as the words began to form in her mind, the awkwardness building.

"Okay, so... edging is... a sexual thing," she began slowly, carefully choosing her words. She risked a glance at him, noticing the way his jaw tightened ever so slightly, his attention fully on her. "Basically, it’s when you—or a partner—bring you close to, um, release and then stop right before it happens. You do it over and over again, as many times as you want."

The explanation spilled out of her quickly, almost clinical in nature, but it didn’t stop the deep flush that began creeping up Bucky's neck and into his face. His ears turned a deep shade of pink, and he seemed to stiffen beside her, his breath catching for a split second.

"Oh." His voice was rougher than usual, and he cleared his throat again as if trying to shake off the sudden intensity of the conversation. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked away, avoiding her gaze.

For a moment, silence settled over them. It wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, but there was an undeniable tension that neither seemed to know how to break. Y/N glanced down at her lap, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the edge of her sleeve, unsure of what to say next.

It was Bucky who finally spoke, his voice quieter than before. "Have you ever, uh... done that?"

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. The question hung in the air, bold and unflinching. She felt her face heat up again, and she wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or something else entirely. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, her pulse quickening as she considered her response.

"Not with another person," she replied honestly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s gaze shifted to her, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke again, his voice low and careful.

"...Would you want to?"

The air between them seemed to crackle with unspoken words. Y/N’s eyes widened, and her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected that. Not from him. Not today.

[wlwanakin]

could you explain to me in your opinion what exactly saw padme in anakin to fall for him? in aotc it came like out of nowhere after three days knowing him, anakin then commited tusken genocide and padme was ready to forgive him despite her strong sense of justice, to me it just feels very off and diservicing to her, how wasnt that a deal breaker for her

i’ll gladly explain!! and i’ve spoken briefly about how i view padmé’s reaction to the tusken massacre before, but i’ll elaborate here too.

i think the key things to remember when looking at anidala from padmé’s perspective are a) love is by nature pretty irrational so you’re never gonna be able to fully rationalize padmé’s love for anakin, b) padmé is a deeply lonely person in a career that requires her to distance herself from others and sacrifice authenticity, c) padmé met anakin when he was an enslaved child and she was a teenaged queen dealing with an unprecedented crisis and he played a key role in solving that whilst showing her extreme kindness and selflessness, and d) as of the beginning of aotc, padmé has just narrowly escaped death and lost two of her devoted handmaidens who she also considered to be her friends. these are the big things informing her mindset and her perception of anakin throughout the film.

i think one thing that trips people up even before they go to tatooine is that anakin is just weird in aotc, but the thing is that that’s what made padmé fall for him. she’s been in politics since she was a child, and politics is a field that requires inauthenticity by default, and in padmé’s case that’s to an extreme degree because she spent her teen years putting on the queen amidala persona and the anonymous handmaiden persona, then the minute that was up she became a senator and senator amidala is not as dramatic a persona but it is one nonetheless because politics and diplomacy require that. her entire life since she was fourteen has been spent playing roles, surrounded by others also playing roles, and she’s a severe workaholic working under a sense of moral obligation so unlike some people in the same field might she doesn’t really have a life outside of this. and here comes anakin, who she’s already fond of because of the kindness he showed her and her people when he was a child, and he’s so unlike any of the people she’s surrounded by because he is earnest to a fault. he’s socially stunted, he’s abrasive and combative, he doesn’t give a shit about niceties or diplomacy, he says every weird thing he thinks before he even finishing thinking it, and can you imagine how refreshing that must be to someone whose entire social life is just her staff and fellow politicians who are all inauthentic by nature? and on top of how appealing that is on its own he’s also hot, and he still shows that he cares for her, and he gives her space to be authentic as well. he jokes with her, he speaks openly about his emotions and gives her room to do the same, he treats her like a person rather than a figurehead. it’s a perfect recipe for romance, really.

so it’s important to note that, for all these reasons, she was already in love with him before they even left naboo, and that informs all her actions throughout the last half of the film. it’s also important to note that she is carrying the guilt and grief of cordé and versé’s deaths on her shoulders as well as all the strange emotions that come with a near-death experience. and that’s the mindset she’s traveling to tatooine with, knowing that anakin might be on the verge of a monumental loss himself. and then the worst case scenario happens and she does see him grieving, and she understands to an extent what it’s like to experience a loss that feels like her fault. it’s the opening scene of the film! so she sees his volatile grief and that doesn’t scare her off because his vulnerability and depth of emotion are part of what drew her to him in the first place since she is someone who has long been denied access to such vulnerability. and all this gives her immense grounds to sympathize deeply with him by the time he confesses to the massacre.

i guess i kind of understand why people think her reaction to anakin’s confession is a bad character moment or a disservice or whatever, but it’s actually one of my favorite padmé moments for a lot of reasons. it makes sense to me that under the circumstances padmé would underreact to the crime being confessed. she has a strong sense of justice but she also loves anakin and understands what he’s feeling, she knows him and knows his immense capacity for goodness because she’s witnessed it, and above all she is an idealist. she is driven by immense compassion and that is something that can be misapplied and it isn’t inherently virtuous. she can look past anakin’s crime because she sympathizes deeply with the emotions that motivated it, and because she knows him well enough to know that he isn’t defined by this level of cruelty and she has no reason to believe he’ll make a habit out of it considering the remorse he’s expressing, and quite simply and selfishly because she loves him. it isn’t a morally upright moment for her but it doesn’t have to be because this streak of hypocrisy she has is really interesting and makes her feel more human than if she was just a paragon of virtue.

so after that really crazy week? week and a half? geonosis happens, and this is padmé’s second super close brush with death in like a month, and her love confession comes in a moment right before what’s supposed to be an execution because of course you’re gonna grab life by the tits if you only have like five minutes of it left. and near-death experiences are very perspective shifting things, and she just had two super close together and anakin just had one right along with her and is about to be shipped off to the chronic near-death experience that is Fighting In A War, and she is very madly in love with him and he is the only person she can be herself around, and after all that and lifetime of repressing and sacrificing her entire self for public service she says fuck it and lets herself have this one selfish thing and marries him. and that’s really all of it, nothing was a dealbreaker because padmé really truly loves anakin and almost died twice and also almost lost him and he gives her something no one else ever could and she wants that. and after the whirlwind she just experienced she’s gonna take it.

and even with all this aside i think it’s important to give padmé as a character space to be irrational because she is, at the end of the day, a character, and not a real person or even an audience insert. and she’s a character in a shakespearean space opera on top of that, one where an exorbitant amount of guys cope by doing mass murder. her love interest is one of those guys and he’s also constantly off his rocker about everything all the time, so why can’t she be a bit off hers too, yanno? anakin and padmé’s relationship is almost transcendentally intense, and that just wouldn’t work if the intensity weren’t on both ends. and padmé loves just as intensely as anakin does, it’s just more focused and less outwardly fiery. and her moral oversights are part of that intensity.