#these are from just before the point of no return save

[lukie17]

Ordering a body pillow of them!

It was a sleepless night when you decided to doom scroll until sleep finally kicked in. Until an ad caught your attention, a deal of a costume made dakimakura. It was 50% off and you could ask for the pillow to show a fictional character, an actor or even someone you knew. Without thinking twice, you send the picture of your husband with your specifications.

You tried to keep it a secret from him, until he found out.

Xavier.

He was supposed to be on a mission and not return until a few days later. While he was gone, you used the pillow and put it back into your secret spot. But this time it went wrong, Xavier being the freak he is, ended up the mission earlier than expected and wanted to pass out in the arms of his partner in life.

But what did he find? His beautiful wife hugging someone else. He did not know who it was nor he cared, he yanked the pillow out of you and his sword pressed against the "neck" of the intruder. Scared out of the sudden attack, you raised your weapon and aimed at him, carefully turning the lights.

Xavier's scowl only grew heavier as his own eyes met him. The pillow showed him in his cat butler self with the difference that his uniform was open, showing his torso and chest. The hunter's face was an enigma, and you froze, knowing too damn well that it could either go wrong or really wrong. Xavier was even jealous of himself and the pillow might trigger it even more.

To your demise, but not surprising, Xavier cut the pillow into tiny pieces. You sighed as you let him rage, trying to find the right words to ease him, maybe there could be a way where you get out of the mess without walking funny for the next few days. But the beast was on the loose.

In a second, Xavier's lips were on your own, one hand pressing you against the bed while the other one ripped his uniform apart. His kisses were a warning, he would make sure that you won't even for a pillow or him.

Zayne

Zayne discovered it by accident. He was doing some spring cleaning at your apartment when he found it. Stacked at the bag of the closet, Zayne almost froze the dakimakura when he landed his eyes on it. Not because of jealousy, but he thought that there was an intruder.

Out of curiosity he examined the pillo. He was in his doctor's coat or at least a spicy version of it. He wondered why you had ordered it and when you did it. Since the pillow smelled like you, he guessed that it was something that you used frequently. Zayne could have taken the path of hiding the pillow away, and save you the embarrassment, but you had played a lot of pranks on him lately, so he had a score to settle.

That evening you walked home tired of a long shift and just wanted to rest, but Zayne had everything planned. As soon as you opened the door, he greeted you.

"Welcome home, cheater" sipping tea from his mug "Did you have a nice day?"

You were confused. You would never dare or wanted to cheat on Zayne. In fact, he looked really calm and was he smirking? He had not a smile on his face but you could tell something was going on.

"What?"

"No need to play dumb" his head pointing to your room "I have discovered the man that is in your bed"

No sound came from you, still trying to understand what was going on. Yes, you invited friends like Xavier or Caleb to your apartment but never cheated on Zayne. Wondering what made him act like that, only to discover your body pillow in bed. You wanted to crawl in a whole, you wanted to die and get eaten by a wanderer. But Zayne had other plans.

"I think I got the messge" his arms caging you against him "I need to stop more time with my wife or else she would leave me" before you could explain yourself, Zayne devoured your lips.

Sylus

He will never, never, NEVER, let you forget what you did. You were on your knees sitting on front of him as the pillow floated infront of you while Sylus made it turn around with his evol. In the pillow, he was wearing some kind of armor that looked like a dragon. It was both endaring and weird.

You did not know what to say. Sylus, as always, had the upper hand and there was no way gettint out of it. So you decided to play your trick card: jumping into his lap hopping to distract him but he had other plans.

The red mist caught you and pushed you down until your face was against the body pillow, making sure that your face was against his face in the pillow. Then he position himself behidn you, his lips brushing against your ear.

"I never thought that you would be such a naughty kitten" you could not tell if he was mad or happy about the fact that you had a body pillow of him, and you did not want to know "Though, I do not know what it took you to buy another version of me when you have me right here"

He sponned you around so you could face him, and when you tried to look away, his evol made you look at him. He looked like a lion about to devour his prey, and for the first time in a while you were a little afraid of Sylus, in a good way.

"Cat got your tongue?" he mocked as he leaned closer "Or are you only going to talk to the pillow, kitten?"

Sylus closed the distance between you, making sure that any sound woud be trapped in his mouth. You don't know if you regret buying the pillow or not changing the address direction to other place rather that your shared home with Sylus.

Caleb

My husband , Caleb would tease you and feel so flattered at the same time. He didn't know that you had it in you, but he also had to tease you as we know. He will lift the body pillow high enough for you to not reach it, and he will se your face blusing as you try to get it back.

"What's that pipsqueack? You missed me so much that you have to get one pillow out of me" you were basically a tomate, but you could not lose.

"Who are you to talk, panty-thief!"

Caleb froze and he left the pillow hit the floor, quickly you grab it at tossed in the closet.

"You- you know?" he was now the one who was turning red "How-how? I was sure that I was careful..."

"How could I not when my old underwear kept reapearing as if it was new!" you protested, hoping that he would forget the body pillow "You pervert! Why do you think I make sure to do all the laundry?"

The body pillow was now a thing from the past for him, the lonely travels to the deepspace tunnel were only bareable because he took a piece of you with him. He never anything pervert with them, but he liked to have them close, he did not know if he could survive with them. He got in his knees, and hugged your legs, looking like a dog who was sad for being scolded.

"Pips, pleasee" he rubbed against your legs "Let me do your laundry again"

You only sighed with releaf, now he would forget about the pillow and let you be. After all, you need someting to cuddle against when he went to missions for while. Though you were lucky that he had not open the pillow and found his own underweare in there. What can you say? Weirdos attract each other

[clavica]

I've been experimenting last year to try to unfuck my life. COVID left me unemployed and with depression, which was a battle on its own and in the aftermath of it, I found myself in a place where my hobbies and interests were left untouched and under a thick layer of dust for more than three years, because fighting for survival doesn't leave much room for anything extra. To find a job and to get my mental health to so-so place was more important than drawing, cleaning or exercising. And after I finally had some mental and energy room for "something extra" I found myself not really wanting to do anything, so scrolling and mindless media consumption was taking that extra bit I fought so hard to get back and honestly, it made me miserable.

So I started to experiment around getting myself to do more than just survival. I wanted to draw, to read, to exercise, take care of myself, to learn something new. And frankly, it sucked, especially in the beginning. Getting my space cleaned regularly was a struggle. I couldn't stay on track with eating healthy and returned back to bad habits quickly. Creativity wasn't coming and anything I've made felt horrible and ugly, especially that over the years some of my skills eroded and comparing to my old art, I was doing worse...

I guess the best take away from my struggles was to if I can't get something done, is to downsize and limit.

I couldn't get myself to do one day of general cleaning, so I broke it down to 15-20 minutes of cleaning everyday before going to work. At first I used a schedule written on a fridge, then switched to an app to keep track of this and additional tasks and appointments I have, but at this point I know the roster by heart. Monday is for cleaning the stove and counters in the kitchen. Tuesday is wiping mirrors and sweeping floor. Wednesday is cleaning toilet and taking out trash. Thursday is to wipe sink and shower. Friday is free. I do laundry as needed and dishes as well. Dishwasher saved my life as I absolutely detest washing dishes.

Second thing was starting to draw everyday. I got a cheap notebook-calendar and I spend 10-15 mins drawing in it everyday. Even if it's a stick figure. Nobody will see it, and tomorrow I will have another chance to draw something else.

Exercise was the worst. I'm not w sporty person and it's catching up to me. I don't like walking when I have no aim and the weather is bad. Fitness bores me and feels pointless. During pandemic, I got a stationary bike that I was using on and off. So far I managed to put the bike in front of tv and watch Netflix while I cycle, tapping to the crave to watch something and tricking myself to not thinking that I'm exercising. I started with 20min anime episodes, one every day. Currently doing one hour long Netflix shows episodes everyday. Cliffhangers help a bit, because I want to know what happens next and I can't watch without bicycling, so gotta bicycle to know, sorry...

Diet is a problem too, since I eat everything on sight after coming back from work. So I stopped eating after 18:00 because I can't be trusted after that. Deleted all apps where I could order food and I keep in fridge water and vegetables and frozen food for lunch next day. The biggest issue is when I'm out, no rules can stop me there, but fortunately that doesn't happen often.

The last tips I might give basing on my journey:

- if something stands in the way and you can get rid of it - get rid of it

- don't underestimate doing something for fifteen minutes every day, even if it's half-assed

- fuck ups will happen, you will fuck up and that doesn't mean the times you didn't fuck up stopped counting

- it's better to focus on what you're doing now than on possible goals you have

- be kind to yourself

- be patient and don't overextend

Of course everybody is different and their journey might be different. If is, I hope you could share it, as I'm still looking for inspiration to unfuck the rest of my life.

how do u have it all. how do u workout and stretch daily and play an instrument and stay drawing and creative and inspired and have a job. i rlly believe some ppl r living this kind of beautiful and balanced life. its achievable. i think. but how. how does it all become second nature. how do you make it all habit. it feels silly to think something like my phone could be standing in the way of all of it. but maybe it is. or maybe u rlly have to be a specific type of freak person.

[wordsofwhimsy]

【Ｏｐｐｏｓｉｔｅｓ　

Ａｔｔｒａｃｔ】 - Part Seventeen

Pairing: Mohawk!Mark Grayson x f!Reader

Warnings: Some long awaited smuttt between our two lovers – f & m receiving oral

Tags: Fluff, smut, reader’s first time being intimate with anyone, Mark’s on his kneeees

Word Count: 4,665

Chapter Synopsis: There’s a first time for everything and Mark is more than eager to be apart of yours.

a/n: hope y’all brought a bib – it’s about to go downnnn

Part Sixteen

Mark moved before you could blink—mouth on yours, arms around your waist, guiding you backward with slow, determined steps. His lips were softer this time, but no less hungry.

Your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you let yourself fall back, pulling him down with you. The mattress creaked under the sudden weight of him, all heat and pressure and muscle as he settled between your legs—but not fully. Never fully. He was bracing himself, holding back like his self-control was hanging by a thread.

One of his hands cupped your jaw again, the other pressed flat against the mattress beside your head as he kissed you deeper. He tasted like winter air and the last bit of self-restraint. You arched into him without thinking, a soft whimper escaping your lips before you could stop it.

Mark groaned—deep in his chest—and broke the kiss, forehead pressing to yours. “You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he murmured.

You slid your hands up his torso, palms circling to drag over the hard lines of his back. “Awe, we can’t have that…”

That made him laugh, breathless and low and almost distraught.

Then he was kissing down your neck, your collarbone, your stomach, taking his time. Your tank top bunched up inch by inch under his hands, each kiss lower than the last, until you were trembling beneath him.

“Mark—” you breathed, voice thin and shaking.

“I’ve thought about this,” he whispered, lips ghosting across the soft curve of your waist. “Every fucking night. Just… getting to see you like this. Touch you like this. You have no idea...”

Your shorts slid down under his hands, slow and deliberate, tugged just past your hips and down your thighs until they dropped off the bed. He stilled for a moment when he saw you—wearing soft, simple cotton underwear, sweet and unassuming, like you hadn’t even thought twice about it—and exhaled like he’d been punched. No lace, no silk, no effort to be seductive. Just you. Innocent, untouched by all the noise of trying to be sexy—like you didn’t even realize how devastating that made you. It wrecked him.

“Jesus Christ...” His eyes flicked up to yours, dark and full of so much want it nearly hurt. His hands were steady on your legs, but his voice cracked—barely holding on. “Tell me to stop,” he nearly pleaded, like he needed you to save him from himself.

You bit down on your lip, your whole body flushed, trembling under the weight of his gaze. Your chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, but your voice—when it came—was quiet. Sure. Yours.

“Don’t stop,” you whispered, eyes locked on his. “Please… keep going.”

Something broke in him.

His breath hitched like he’d been punched in the gut, and his grip on your thighs tightened just slightly—not rough, but needing. Needing you. Needing this. That look in his eyes shifted, went deeper, darker, like he was past the point of return now.

He dipped his head and kissed the inside of your thigh—soft and lingering. His hands smoothed over your hips, your legs, your skin, like he was memorizing every inch. He didn’t rush. Didn’t tear. He worshipped.

When his mouth pressed gently between your legs—still over your underwear—you gasped, hips twitching. “Fuck,” he breathed against you, trembling.

Then he eased the last layer down, watching you the entire time. Watching your breath hitch. Watching your legs tense and part just a little wider. Mark thought he could cry from the sight. Not just because you were beautiful—though you were, achingly so—but because it was you. Letting him see you like this. Letting him touch something so vulnerable. So sacred.

When he finally leaned in and kissed your core—bare, exposed, soft and already slick with need—it was slow, warm, intentional. His mouth pressed into you like a confession, like he needed it to breathe, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. You whimpered, hips jolting, the sound spilling out of you before you could stop it. Your hand flew up to your mouth on instinct, desperate to muffle it—but Mark caught your wrist midair. His grip was gentle, firm, anchoring.

“Don’t,” he murmured, voice low and undone as he looked up at you. “I need to hear you.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond—not with words, at least. Instead, he dipped his head again, tongue sliding through your folds with maddening slowness, savoring every inch of you like he was trying to memorize it. Every flick, every swirl of his tongue was careful, almost reverent. But the sound he made against you—a low, guttural groan—was pure, unfiltered need.

You were already shaking. One of your hands tangled in the sheets, the other still caught in his grip as he kept it pinned beside you, refusing to let you hide any part of yourself. It was overwhelming—how exposed you were, how seen you felt. Like he wasn’t just touching your body but reading it, learning every reaction, and falling harder with every one.

When his tongue circled your clit, slow and featherlight, your hips jerked, back arching off the mattress with a sound you didn’t recognize—high, needy, desperate. Your thighs tried to close in around his head, instinctive and overstimulated, but his hand slid to your hip, steady and grounding, keeping you open for him.

“Fuck,” he breathed, breaking away for just a second. His lips were wet, flushed, swollen from you. “You taste so fucking good.”

He could feel it—your body begging, trembling under him, the way your hips rolled helplessly toward his mouth, searching for more. And fuck, he gave it to you. His grip tightened on your thigh as he buried his face between your legs like he was starving—tongue working in slow, greedy strokes that made your toes curl and your thoughts scatter.

Every time he flattened his tongue against your clit, every time he sucked it into his mouth with just the right pressure, you swore you could see stars. Your legs started to shake harder, and he loved it—fucking lived for it. He moaned into you, deep and desperate, and the vibration of it sent a pulse of heat straight through your spine.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he groaned, barely pulling back long enough to speak. His voice was shot—low, hoarse, addicted. “I could stay here all night.”

And it wasn’t just talk. He meant it. He’d sink into you, over and over, until he had your taste carved into the back of his throat. He was already soaked in you—his lips, his chin, his soul—but it still wasn’t enough. He needed more. You. All of you.

He slipped a single finger down—gently circling your entrance before easing in. And the second he pushed past that first bit of resistance, he froze.

“Oh my goddd,” he groaned, pained. His brows drew together, jaw strained, like the feeling of you was too much. “You are so fucking tight.”

His voice cracked on the words. His finger was only halfway in, and it already felt like you were gripping him for everything he was worth. He swallowed hard, chest rising and falling like he was trying to hold himself together.

“It’s just one finger…” he muttered, almost to himself, like he couldn’t believe it.

He didn’t move, not right away. He just let you feel it—let you adjust, let your body melt around him. His thumb brushed soft, tracing circles on your thigh while his other hand anchored him against the sheets, knuckles white.

“God, you feel like heaven,” he said, finally easing his finger in deeper. “So warm, so soft… so so perfect.”

He began moving—just a little, just enough—fingering you in slow, careful motions while his mouth returned to your clit. The combination was devastating. His tongue was all focus, all devotion, lapping at you like you were the only thing that existed.

You cried out, a helpless, overwhelmed sound, and Mark groaned in response—deep and low, like your pleasure hit him right in the chest.

His tongue was slow, teasing, precise. He licked and kissed like he had something to prove—and God, he did. You moaned, hips stuttering up into his mouth, and he just held you tighter, arm wrapped under your thigh.

He found your rhythm like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life—like it was second nature. You were falling apart within minutes, panting his name like a prayer, hands tangled in his thick strip of dark hair, tugging as pleasure coiled hot and heavy in your core.

He moaned when you pulled—actually moaned—and the vibration made your back arch off the bed.

“Mark—oh my God—Mark, I—” You were unraveling.

Every flick of his tongue, every twitch of his finger, every growl of your name between his teeth was taking you higher—way higher than you’d ever been before. Your hips rolled helplessly, breath hitching, hands in his hair, thighs trembling around his head as Mark devoured you like it was the only thing he’d ever wanted.

You felt it creeping in—tight and hot and too much—coiling in your stomach, low and sharp and dizzying. Your hands clenched the sheets. Your thighs tried to close, but his arms held you steady, spreading you wider.

Then the pressure shifted.

Something about the way his mouth moved—lower, firmer, deeper—made that pressure drop into a place that was suddenly too intense. And it hit you all at once: “W-wait—Mark—wait!”

He froze instantly. Pulled back just enough to look up, mouth soaked, face caught between worry and restraint. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I—” You squirmed, trying to sit up. Your voice cracked. “I think I’m—I might—I think I’m gonna pee—” You looked mortified. Absolutely horrified. Mark blinked. Then—he laughed.

Not mean. Not teasing. Just this warm, breathless, relieved little laugh, like he couldn’t believe how cute you were. “Oh, baby,” he said, crawling up your body and kissing your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. “You’re not gonna pee.”

“I swear to God I—Mark, I’ve never—” You were red-faced, shaking, trying to hide your face in your hands. “I’ve never felt anything like that, I thought—I don’t know what’s happening—”

“Hey,” he said gently, framing your face with both hands, pressing his forehead to yours. “I promise you. You’re not gonna pee. That’s just—you’re close. Really close. That’s what it feels like.”

Your breath hitched. “Are you sure?”

“Baby.” His voice dropped, low and reverent. “I’ve dreamed about making you feel this good since the first time I saw you again in high school. I know exactly what your body’s trying to do.” He kissed the tip of your nose. “You’re safe. I’ve got you. Just let go.”

You stared at him—still panicked, but unraveling in a different way now. The way he was looking at you—like you were the sun and the stars and the air in his lungs—it made you feel braver.

So you nodded. Just a little.

And his mouth was back on you—hungry, patient, perfect. This time, when the pressure returned—hot and sharp and overwhelming—you didn’t fight it.

Your body tensed. And then it broke.

You cried out, hands fisting the sheets, thighs shaking around his shoulders as the wave crashed through you, harder than anything you'd ever felt. It wasn’t like touching yourself. It wasn’t like anything.

It was like being torn apart and put back together in the span of a heartbeat.

Mark moaned against you, holding you through it, working you through every aftershock until your body finally gave out—soft and limp and trembling in his arms. He kissed your thighs, your hipbones, your stomach—then crawled up to wrap you in his arms.

“You okay?” he whispered, brushing hair from your damp forehead. His cheeks were flushed, lips swollen, but his eyes were so soft it nearly broke you all over again.

“I…” You blinked up at him, dazed. “I think I just… exploded.”

He grinned. “You did. It was beautiful.”

You buried your face in his chest, body still twitching with aftershocks. “Oh my God, I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be.” He kissed the top of your head. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” A pause. “…Can we do it again?”

You hit him with a pillow. Weakly. He caught it, laughing, and pulled you closer.

You were still reeling from the experience—overwhelmed, but in a way that made you feel light, like you were floating. Mark held you close, your bodies pressed together as you lay tangled in the sheets, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

You wanted him. More than you’d ever wanted anything before. And you wanted to make him feel as good as he made you feel.

After all, you couldn’t just let him give you everything without showing him just how much you cared. You didn’t know exactly how to do it, but you needed to try.

You shifted, face hot with a new kind of nervousness. Mark was still holding you, his arms wrapped loosely around your body, but when you moved he breathed just a bit harder, looking down at you with that soft, questioning expression.

“What are you doing?” he whispered, his voice still low and rough from earlier.

You bit your lip, heart racing. You were so nervous, but at the same time, the heat in your veins was telling you to just go for it.

“I want to return the favor,” you murmured, voice small but full of determination.

Mark blinked—then immediately his face softened, letting out a single, breathy laugh. “Oh, babe…”

His hands went to your shoulders, his thumbs brushing the skin there, like he was trying to pull you closer, but there was this hesitation in his eyes. “Are you sure? You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you said, a little more firmly this time. “Please let me.”

And that was it. You could see the shift in him, the way his face flushed with something between surprise and overwhelming affection. His voice cracked slightly as he said for the second time that night, “God, you’re gonna kill me…”

You hesitated for a moment, nerves bubbling up, but you pushed through them. You didn’t want him to think you didn’t care. Slowly, you crawled down the bed, your eyes never leaving his face. He watched you with a mix of awe and disbelief, and just the sight of that—the way he looked at you—made your stomach flutter.

You reached down to his hips, fingers gently grazing the tight fabric of his one-piece suit. You tugged at it, trying to maneuver it down, but it was so snug, there was no easy way to get it off without making things way more complicated than they needed to be.

A slight frown pulled at your lips as you realized you were stuck. You glanced up at him, frustration and confusion mixing in your gaze. “Uh… I don’t think I can get this off of you,” you muttered, looking helpless for a split second.

Mark just stared at you with heavy eyes as he slowly started peeling off the suit, the muscles in his arms flexing as he pulled it down, inch by inch. The way he worked at it was so distractingly sexy that you could barely breathe. You watched as the fabric slipped down over his chest, past his abs, and all the way to his ankles. He stepped out of it with a fluid motion, leaving the superhero gear crumpled in a heap on the floor.

Your eyes immediately dropped lower, unable to help yourself. His toned abs, the way his thighs were shaped and strong, everything about him seemed to be carved out of some perfect vision of masculinity. But it wasn’t just that.

No—what made you freeze in place was what you saw between his legs.

You blinked, your breath catching in your throat. For a moment, you couldn’t look away. Holy shit.

Mark was… well endowed—way more than you were prepared for. Your heart pounded loudly in your chest, your mind racing to process what you were seeing. You swallowed, feeling heat rush to your face, your cheeks turning crimson. The thought crossed your mind before you even realized it, your heart thundering in your ears as you tried to breathe normally.

What do I do with that?

You had to blink again, trying to steady yourself. You could feel the heat building between your legs—an ache you couldn’t ignore. But at the same time, your mind was still struggling to catch up.

Mark’s voice cut through your spiraling thoughts.

“Hey, you okay?” His words were soft, genuine, but there was something intense about the way he was looking at you. He wasn’t sure if you were okay with everything or if you needed more time, but he could see the stunned look on your face and the slight uncertainty in your eyes.

You didn’t even realize you’d been holding your breath until you exhaled sharply, your fingers instinctively gripping the sheets as you took in the scene before you.

You nodded, but your voice caught in your throat when you tried to speak. You wanted to tell him everything you were feeling, but it was so overwhelming. Your eyes slid back down to his length, still very much in the forefront of your mind. You swallowed thickly before whispering, “I—I didn’t think...” you swallowed, tried to regain a semblance of composure. “I’ve never... seen a man like this before.”

His expression shifted—an almost possessive, protective gleam flashing across his face. It was subtle, but you felt it. He was ready. He was so ready for you, and he wasn’t going to let you back out now.

“You don’t have to be shy, babe,” he said, his voice deepening with that same hunger from before. “You can touch me. Feel me.” His hands gently cupped your chin, tilting your head back so you couldn’t look away from him. “Let me teach you.”

You couldn’t help the shy, overwhelmed feeling that crawled over you, but there was something about his look—the way he was watching you like you were the center of his universe—that made you want to push past it. He was being so patient, so still, like if he moved too fast he might scare you off or break the moment.

“Sit,” you whispered.

He obeyed without hesitation, backing up until the backs of his legs hit the mattress and lowering himself down. He leaned back slightly on his hands, eyes never leaving yours, muscles still taut with restraint. Naked, flushed, and aching—he looked almost too beautiful to be real. Every line of his body was tense with need, but he wasn’t rushing you.

Not even a little.

You moved to kneel between his legs, and for a second, your confidence faltered. You paused, eyes wide, hands trembling just slightly in your lap. This was… a lot. You’d imagined doing this before—fantasized about it late at night, alone under the covers, biting your lip to keep quiet—but the reality of it was so much more intense. Mark, your Mark, was here, waiting, watching you like he’d never wanted anything more.

Your eyes drifted down again. You bit your lip hard.

He was already thick, flushed, and so, so hard. It felt like your breath had been stolen from your chest just looking at him. You had no real idea what you were doing. You only knew you wanted to try. Wanted to please him.

Mark saw the hesitation in your face and sat up slightly, cupping your cheek with one warm hand.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and tender, “you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you said quickly, surprising even yourself with how certain you sounded. You looked up at him through your lashes. “I just… don’t really know how.”

Mark’s breath left him in a shaky exhale. “Baby,” he said, and it sounded like a prayer, “I promise, anything you do will blow my fucking mind.”

That made you smile a little. You leaned in slowly, your hands sliding up his thighs, nervous but steady, feeling the twitch of muscle beneath your fingers. His breath was already getting ragged as he let his head fall back for just a second, jaw clenched as he tried to stay calm.

You kissed his stomach first—soft and tentative—just below his bellybutton. He shivered under you.

Then lower.

Your lips hovered, breath ghosting over his skin, and he made a sound that went straight to your core—low, needy, barely restrained. Your fingers wrapped around him, tentative at first, adjusting to his weight and warmth, and the way he twitched in your hand nearly made you jump.

“Oh my god,” he groaned, voice tight, one hand fisting in the sheets. You looked up again, unsure, but he was watching you like he was in actual pain.  “You’re killing me. Please don’t stop,” he pleaded, desperate.

So you didn’t.

Every little move—every brush of your lips, every stroke of your hand—was slow, careful, reverent. You were learning him in real time, watching how his body reacted, how his abs clenched and his hips twitched and his breath stuttered. The way he said your name like it was the only word he knew.

And when you finally, finally took him into your mouth, just the tip, he choked on a sound—half curse, half moan, full of disbelief—and tangled his hand gently in your hair, not pulling, just holding, like he needed something to anchor him.

You moved slow, careful, nervous but eager, and he was unraveling right there in front of you.

“Fuck,” he growled. “You’re—Jesus, baby, you’re doing so good, you’re so—sweet, so fucking perfect.”

You felt your skin flush all over. You were messy, inexperienced, completely unsure of yourself, and he was looking at you like you were angelic.

He let his head fall forward, eyes locked on you, lips parted like he was about to lose it. You were learning fast. And you didn’t want to stop.

His hand was still in your hair, not tugging, not pushing—just resting there, stabilizing himself, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. Like if he let go, he’d fall apart entirely.

“Baby…” he whispered, his voice almost cracking. He wasn’t even moving anymore, just staring down at you with wide, overwhelmed eyes. “You’re doing so so good.”

The praise made your chest feel too small for your heart. His eyes were glassy and dark with want. “You have no idea what you look like right now. What this feels like. I can’t—fuck, I can’t believe this is real.”

The honesty in his voice made your stomach twist in the most electric way. You leaned back in. Slower this time. Mark was whispering your name under his breath now, over and over like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. His legs were spread wider, muscles twitching under your touch, and his whole body was tight with the effort of not bucking forward, of not losing control.

“God,” he groaned, his voice thick and strained. “You’re gonna make me—baby, please—I don’t wanna finish yet, I wanna—” His breath hitched, sharp and sudden, as your fingers traced the inside of his thigh.

You blinked up at him, lips still touching him, cheeks flushed, utterly lost in the moment.

And in that second—knees on the floor, your touch so tentative and his body trembling under it—Mark looked like he could come undone right then. Not from the pleasure alone, but from the way you were giving yourself to him so fully, so sweetly. Like this wasn’t just physical. Like it meant something. Like it meant everything.

He cupped your face gently, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, reverent and shaky and tender as hell.

“I love you,” he said, low and struck.

His words seemed to overshadow any nervousness left in your body—folding it into something else. Something deeper. Something needier. Every shaky breath from Mark, every stuttered groan and whispered praise spilling from his lips, made it easier to keep going. To let your hands move with a little more confidence. To lean into his body and feel the way it trembled under you.

Mark looked like he was in pain—in the best possible way.

His head had fallen back, neck stretched, Adam’s apple bobbing with every hitched breath. One hand stayed buried in your hair, not guiding or pushing, just gripping, like he was afraid if he let go, he’d lose himself completely. His other arm was braced behind him, muscles flexed, barely holding him up. His abs were clenching hard under every breath. His thighs twitched under your palms.

And when you finally took him deeper—just a little more, just enough—he made a sound that was devastated.

“F-fuck, baby,” he choked out, the sound torn from his chest like it pained him. “I’m—oh my God, I’m not gonna last.”

You kept your rhythm slow, careful, keeping your hands on his thighs. Mark was falling apart—bit by bit. Every breath came out ragged. His voice was starting to break.

And then it hit him. That edge. Fast and hard.

His whole body tensed beneath you like a drawn bow, and his fingers clenched into the sheets behind him. His hand in your hair twitched, like he wanted to hold on, like it was the only thing anchoring him.

“Wait—baby, wait,” he gasped, voice hoarse. “I—I’m gonna fuckin’ bust, I can’t—fuck, can I? Please, can I—?”

You looked up again, lips still warm around him, and gave the tiniest nod.

And that was all it took.

Mark’s whole body snapped. His mouth dropped open in a strangled moan, and his hips jerked once before he forced himself to stay still, practically vibrating with the effort. His hand covered his mouth like he didn’t trust what would come out—like if he really let himself make the sounds he wanted to, it’d echo through the whole damn dorm building.

He came hard, chest heaving. He was shaking—shaking—with the force of it, the release ripping through him like he’d been holding it back for months.

Because he had.

And when he finally started to come back to earth, his whole body sagged forward. He looked dazed. Flushed. Wrecked. His hand slipped from your hair to your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin like he needed to center himself. You blinked up at him, cheeks pink, breath shaky, lips swollen and a little unsure.

“Was that… okay?” you whispered.

Mark looked like he was going to cry.

He exhaled a laugh, soft and stunned, and pulled you up into his lap without a word. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you so tightly you could barely breathe—but you didn’t want to pull away. You settled against his chest, your legs straddling his, your face tucked under his jaw.

“Okay?” he murmured, kissing your temple. “That was… life changing.” You giggled shyly, hiding your burning face in his neck. “I love you,” he murmured, voice low and serious against your ear. “So much. I don’t think you even know how much.”

Your heart thudded, swelling in your chest. You didn’t say anything right away. You just held him. But in your mind, all you could think was: I love you too.

———————

Taglist! @maddyb-rapps | @sweet-3-whispers | @moradogreen | @rayaaa4444 | @luvvcharxo | @byteme05 | @rivalriotrenegade | @1abi | @onlybatsyy | @heiankyonoeiyuukun | @dillybuggg | @am-3-thyst | @mikevi | @sadest-bookshelf | @rayaaaaalt1 | @topshotdivaa

[ohburgee]

AAAA!! I need more Two time x reader fantasy stories plz! ^0^ like I just want some silly Shenanigans that Reader and 2Time do around the village :3

like silly odd jobs to literally trying to summon telemon or sum :3

-🌀🍀 anon

an: Sorry for being gone! I just finished all the tasks I had and did a long rest. Also, YEAH, I love the fantasy story of Two Time x Reader! I didn’t expect anyone to enjoy it that much, but I’m so happy you did. I ended up turning this a scenario into some goofy shenanigans, haha. Hope you enjoy it, anon! Thank you for continuing the fantasy story :D

You and Two Time had only planned to entertain the village with a simple magic show, but somehow, everything spiraled into chaos.

While wandering the village square, performing tricks for the townspeople, you both accidentally summoned a dangerous entity known as 1x1x1x1, a being infamous for loving destruction and chaos. Now, fires raged across the village, homes burning to ash, as you and Two Time stood frozen in shock.

“What just happened…?” you muttered.

“We need to summon Telamon,” Two Time said, panicking as they scrambled through their spellbook. “Where’s the page? I can’t see it!”

“C’mon, Two!” you urged, glancing toward the heart of the chaos, 1x1x1x1, laughing maniacally as flames engulfed another house.

“I got it!” Two exclaimed, finally finding the ritual. They quickly began casting the spell.

Moments later, a light burst from the sky, and Telamon appeared, descending like a seraph in flowing robes and radiant wings. He looked down at you both like a tired parent discovering their kids covered in mud.

“Oh. It’s you two again,” he said dryly. “What is it this time?”

You and Two Time pointed to the cackling 1x1x1x1.

Telamon sighed and facepalmed. “Seriously? When did that creature get out?”

You quickly explained the situation, and he facepalmed again, even harder.

“I sealed him inside! How did this happen?” he muttered, then turned to the burning village. “Go save the people. I’ll deal with that thing.”

He walked off toward 1x while you and Two Time dashed to help evacuate the villagers. As you guided a group of people to safety, one of 1x’s goons appeared, but Two Time swiftly used their magic to protect you.

You kept moving, but 1x suddenly shoved Telamon away and stormed toward you both. Thinking quickly, Two Time cast a blinding spell, buying you time to get the villagers to safety. The two of you then launched a spell to blow 1x back.

Just as you were about to run, 1x blocked the path, flames erupting around you. You were trapped.

But then, Telamon returned, slashing through the fire and clashing with 1x. After a fierce battle, he managed to knock the chaotic entity to the ground.

As you and Two Time tried to escape, Telamon extinguished the remaining flames with a wave of his hand. You both smiled in relief.

Turning back to 1x, who was struggling to rise, Telamon sighed. “You are the most annoying thing I’ve ever dealt with,” he said, walking over and casting a spell.

You and Two Time widened your eyes as 1x transformed into... a fluffy chicken.

“Are you for real?!” Two Time cried, staring in disbelief.

Telamon laughed and handed the fluffy creature to you. You held the once-powerful entity in your arms.

“And for waking me up,” Telamon said, wagging his finger like a scolding parent, “your punishment is to take care of this chicken until I return and he’s allowed to regain his form.”

Before you could respond, he vanished into thin air.

“OW!” you hissed as 1x bit your finger. The chicken tilted his head like... well, a chicken. You pouted and booped his head.

Two Time walked up beside you, staring at the fluffy menace. “What now?”

After a brief conversation, you both agreed, like it or not, you’d have to take care of 1x until Telamon returned.

Back at your cozy, humble cabin, you handed the chicken to Two Time while you went to prepare dinner. Two placed 1x on the table, eyeing him with confusion.

“He’s... not even trying to escape or destroy anything,” Two mumbled.

“What do chickens even eat?” they asked.

You grabbed the leftover food from breakfast and offered it to 1x, who promptly began eating. You and Two Time stared, wide-eyed.

“This is the same guy who just set the village on fire, right?” you whispered.

Later, you all ate dinner in silence. When you turned your gaze to 1x, he was already asleep, eyes closed peacefully. Two Time followed your gaze, then looked at you.

“…Do we have to let him sleep next to us?”

n: i imagine 1x as this chicken hahaha

[justafewberries]

How did Katniss’s views of Peeta’s episodes change over time?

Hey, nonny!

This is going to be a sequel post to another ask here, where I discussed evidence for Katniss wanting to help Peeta out of his episodes in Mockingjay. 

In order to answer this, I’m going to separate Peeta into two characters: crafted image Peeta and Hijacked Peeta. Crafted image Peeta is going to be the idea of Peeta that Katniss has crafted in his absence. It is composed of everything “good”. Hijacked Peeta is the character post Capitol torture, specifically from the time he is rescued to the end of the book. 

I believe that Katniss detested Hijacked Peeta, but not because he’s Peeta, but because he’s a manifestation of what she feels like is her failure. She went into the arena with the intention to keep him safe, and she failed. There was a bigger plot in play, of course, but her feelings towards her failure overshadow the fact she largely could not have prevented what happened. Still, she spends much of her time in 13 feeling guilty for “failing”, so when she hears Peeta has returned, she feels this sense of relief. In her mind, she is no longer guilty, everything is okay, and Peeta is back. 

So when he strangles her, again, everything comes crashing down. She is once more condemned to be at fault, and she begins to resent Peeta for it. That crafted image Peeta she believed she was going to see doesn’t exist. She sees hijacked Peeta, a manifestation of what she tried to prevent, and it crushes her. She doesn’t admit this, of course, she runs, like I said in my last post. She doesn’t ask about him, she doesn’t visit, and she tenses up when he’s around. 

I don’t think she ever resents him for being Peeta, I think she resents what he has become. 

So when discussing the timeline of her warming up to his episodes, I’m going to credit it to Haymitch. In the Capitol setting, Katniss sees Peeta as a mutt. She doesn’t humanize him anymore because to her, she feels she has to cut her losses to survive. Could she ever actually kill Peeta if it came down to it? No. I wouldn’t even say she could do it out of necessity, as she didn’t pull the trigger when Gale was asking her to at the end. Here’s where Haymitch comes in:

"What are you trying to do? Provoke him into an attack?" he asks me. "Of course not. I just want him to leave me alone," I say. "Well, he can't. Not after what the Capitol put him through," says Haymitch. "Look, Coin may have sent him there hoping he'd kill you, but Peeta doesn't know that. He doesn't understand what's happened to him. So you can't blame him--" "I don't!" I say. "You do! You're punishing him over and over for things that are out of his control. Now, I'm not saying you shouldn't have a fully loaded weapon next to you round the clock. But I think it's time you flipped this little scenario around in your head. If you'd been taken by the Capitol, and hijacked, and then tried to kill Peeta, is this the way he would be treating you?" demands Haymitch. I fall silent. It isn't. It isn't how he would be treating me at all. He would be trying to get me back at any cost. Not shutting me out, abandoning me, greeting me with hostility at every turn. "You and me, we made a deal to try and save him. Remember?" Haymitch says. When I don't respond, he disconnects after a curt "Try and remember."

Up until this point, Katniss has been pushing him away and writing him off as violent. She’s not necessarily trying to provoke him into an attack, like she says, but she’s not exactly treating him compassionately, either. 

She can’t write him off as irredeemable anymore, like she has tried so hard to convince herself. That’s why I think this conversation with Haymitch was the turning point in how she begins to view Peeta’s episodes. This also happens a few chapters before the “stay with me” kiss from my last post, which provides more evidence for how crucial this conversation was in Katniss’s mindset.

Before that call, she was punishing Peeta for being a culmination of what she believed to be her failure. After that call, she has a new perspective.

[v-iroine]

₊˚⊹౨ৎ ₊˚⊹ SEEKING FREEDOM

Chap: The red siren pt.1/2 [4k words]

✿ kid!Caleb + kid!fem!MC (use of she/her pronouns but mc's appearance is not mentioned)

ꕀ I will collect the scattered fragments of my soul, and I will diligently focus on myself alone.

✿ This is all a figment of my imagination and may contradict canon[!] Caleb's POV in the past, child torture mentioned, loneliness, psychological and physical torture, isolation, both mc and caleb are guinea pigs, experiments, Caleb is losing his mind, he's bald (MC too), indirect mention of the granny [she is a grey character most of the time].

✿ Little author's note: Please consider to leave a comment and share your thoughts, it REALLY helps me for the producting of those OS. I decided to make a small mention of Petrarca since Caleb's memories are currently fragmented and in each fragment he can only see the figure of MC while trying to rearrange them himself. 《Mi dedicherò a me stesso quanto più potrò, e raccoglierò i frammenti sparsi della mia anima》. After this one I'll probably just take a break and write some random short nsfw (I can't take that much angst)

A high-pitched sound struck the room, red lights bouncing from one shiny metal wall to another until they reached and filtered through the transparency of the solid prison walls that had once defined my room. I tried to squeeze my eyes shut.

I squeezed them until my joints ached, but that painful sound, the one that still haunted my sleep, was impossible to relieve, not even for a second.

The very idea of blocking it was unreasonable. My hands tightened around the pillow over my head, and when that wasn't enough, I pressed it down with my arms, curling into a small ball between the hard mattress and the feeble embrace of the thin blanket, my only source of relief, the only thing that had ever saved me from this kind of loneliness. I pushed my head against it, trying to silence everything. This pain had haunted me for days. Every. Single. Night.

These days felt like months, or maybe they were.

Calendars were prohibited for subjects under "visit", the passing of the time was visible only thanks to the sunlight fading behind the opaque walls or stealing glances at the clock in the "attending doctor" room, a phase that everyone was forced to go through.

Every detail of our presence was closely monitored by superiors, as well as those designated for inspections, even though they often failed to carry out their checks properly. Many slacked off during working hours; pale, shaking fingers exchanging white paper bags, it was a sight so common to me but at the same time unrecognized by others.

A bit ironic, they couldn’t wait to get their hands on this stuff, while their victims were forced to have it inserted into their bodies against their will.

Usually, the incessant sound lasted only a few minutes. In my countless attempts to fall asleep, I found myself counting how long the light and noise persisted. The chaos typically faded quickly, just before the rhythmic march of armed men echoed through the halls, their guns resting on their shoulders like an embrace. The situation was always resolved swiftly, returning to absolute stoic quiet.

But this time, the rescue had arrived, yet the sound had not stopped. That flashing light was more present than ever and the noise was no less.

At some point, I resigned myself to it; that light and that damned siren could break anyone. And after all this time, I was no exception.

The growing clamor in the distance, from the few like me who had survived (more or less) in that place until now, was soon joined by the shouting. The more it increased, the more I felt myself sinking, my ears ringing and everything becoming more opaque.

My eyelids grew heavy, my ears got used to the endless wail, it took me a long time before I realized that this would become my personal lullaby, the song I would hear every time I went to sleep, no longer a condemnation but a part of me.

Sleep was the only solution to all my misfortunes... and my only salvation, a place that no one had the possibility of taking away or controlling, every day I demanded freedom and when that was denied I found refuge in this, a place where only I had control.

When everything had finally died down, the light, not red but white, hit my face again, a warm voice struck me, the coldness of its gloved recognizable hands. 

Countless times, I had tried to escape its grip, but every time, I failed miserably.

"The subject's vital parameters are stable. "

That soothing sound was always accompanied by machinery and other dull metallic voices. The warm voice, like sunlight, always repeated those words as it brushed my hair from my forehead while blood samples were taken as proof of my existence. Blood, like heartbeat, was one of the things recorded throughout the day: every moment had to be logged, from when I woke up to when I went to sleep.

The tingling sensation made me struggle, but at least it reminded me that I was still here, still on this earth, even if it was only through the prick of a needle.

I have no idea if all the victims in that facility had been treated the same way I was, but one thing was for sure: this was not living. The only thing that calmed my state of mind was that voice. The only human who had bothered to treat me like a living being, yet never as an equal.

"Ma'am, what time is it?"

"It's time for you to wake up."

"Another math test?"

"Yes, exactly."

This is how the day began. I lied to myself by calling it just math, it was anything but mathematics.

Around my neck, the collar they forced on me during the removals. I couldn’t stand it, the cold metal against my skin, the weight of it, the false hope that I might escape. Too tight to slip off, yet loose enough for the needles to dig in, unmoving. A precaution, they called it, in case I did anything unpleasant to them.

The spikes had left red marks on my skin just from touching them. I tried several times to loosen the grip on my neck, but all my efforts were in vain. In fact, I risked it more than once, even though I knew it might make them lose their patience. But you can understand what the result was... I was still there, alive, but with more guards keeping an eye on me.

This how my day began: physical and mental tests... they wanted to see how I adapted to stress, discomfort, and anger. How I responded to environmental stimuli. It began with typical school tests: an empty room, just a tablet screen in front of me. Suction cups clung to my chest and my nearly bald head, the cold gel seeping into the white fabric I wore every day. The questions grew harder, the timer ticking down, pressing against my mind like a second restraint.

The more I solved within the time limit, the fewer tests I would have to endure, or at least, that’s what they told me. The questions were varied, they did not focus on a single topic.

They were unpredictable, shifting from started physics problems and ended with the horrors of war. Psychological assessments, how would I react... how would I behave when the timer suddenly sped up and grew faster and louder in my ears. My survival or the others, that was the core of the test. They tried to convince me to 《prioritize the survival of the majority over yourself》, and for a time, I've started to believe those words. But, at the end of the day, if you are trained to go down with the aircraft, they'll still call it service. Not suicide.

In reality, they valued what I lacked. And how cooperative I would be with them, especially they wanted to understand how I would behave in an empty room, with no one who could observe me, even if those eyes of theirs did not move from me. When the cameras were malfunctioning or the power started to stutter due to inconveniences with other subjects, I would enjoy humming songs, not out of nostalgia, but just to see if  anyone was still listening.

If the silence would shift...

But it never did.

That was the worst part.

Tortured and monitored daily, yet still discarded when a little inconvenience occurred. As if my suffering wasn't worth their time.

And with that the day flew by like this, inside those white walls, one day slower and more melancholic, more pointless, more useless than the other. That wasn't living, just something to get through to understand what living means, but what would a kid know about that?

The end of testing always meant meals-if you could call them that. A kind of mush. Nutritional sludge, mixed from God knows what, designed to keep me alive.

Not fed. Not satisfied. Just functioning.

They weren't going to let me starve, obviously. That'd be a waste of time and space.

Meals were taken alone, always. In my room.

Cutlery? Not allowed. No plastic, no wood, no metal... nothing I could use to hurt myself. Or them. So the almost-liquid food came in a flimsy paper cup. The kind that started to dissolve if you didn't choke everything down fast enough.

Sometimes I asked them to bring me something different, and edible, but as expected, my protests were just wasted oxygen for them. I asked, I tried, but I already knew the answer. That was something that could be silenced if not listened to, something that I didn't have the luxury of think it could change.

But, like everything else, there were exceptions.

Sometimes, my voice actually reached the guards, the ones who couldn't stand my complaints, the ones who, in their frustration, would try to get a superior involved. And not so coincidentally, in the end it always appeared before me, the same voice that woke me up in the morning.

But it didn't matter. It did nothing but listen. Whether the voice actually cared... well, I have serious doubts. But at least I had someone to talk to. Empty words came out of its mouth, but at least they gave me hope that the next day things would change, but at the end of the day the disappointment of the brutal truth: nothing can change even if you want it to.

And the day went on like this: more test after test.

When I couldn't concentrate anymore the room was my only refuge.

I slept for hours to escape the boredom, and woken up only to swallow more mush while they analyzed my parameters again.

The night swallowed the white palace, deleting all the colors around me. The sleeplessness had taken over my tired mind.

The deathly silence was accompanying me in my failed attempt to fall asleep when I heard the slap of bare feet trampling on the floor.

A new sound for me, I didn't believe it, I was worried that it was just my brain playing tricks on me.

An ugly cry, fleeting, pierced the thick air trapped within those walls, time seemed to stand still. My muscles stiffened, my hair stood on end, as a high-pitched voice, too high to belong to any of the prisoners nearby... it filled my ears.

I wasn’t afraid of the voice itself. I didn’t believe in ghosts. It felt pointless to fear monsters that couldn’t touch me, when I lived among them every day.

What unsettled me were the implications: Had they started practicing physical experiments at night? Too?

The crying grew closer, more penetrating with every second, and the nearer it came, the more I noticed the little details.

The panting that came in bursts, the sloppy shuffle of feet trading places, one after the other, over and over. The whimpering, swallowed only to fuel that futile race… because even if that voice somehow escaped the structure, freedom was never guaranteed, and I was the confirmation.

A curious voice tried to speak, indeed female, but her words got stuck into her throat, only letting out ununderstandable sounds. In the end she seemed more frightened than I was. I was sure that was a female voice, the sound was too high-pitched to be older than me and the speed of her walking didn't suggest otherwise.

I never thought I’d meet a girl my age there. I was sure I was the youngest in that damn place. At first, I assumed she was a relative visiting from the upper floors. But considering how they treat me… I doubt they’ve ever had children, at least I hope not, just for their sake.

My back shielding me from the source of the noise, I curled up even though the terror had begun to fade from my limbs and I had lowered my guard. The voice made me feel tender, it reminded me of my first day, when I believed that everything was just a bad dream and I would wake up soon, but the days passed and so did my hope.

One of the few still intact traits that scientists had failed to eliminate from my youth was curiosity; and when the voice reached up the proximity of my cell I couldn't help but leave my warm and safe position. I turned around clinging to the sheets and stealing a glance in the cold corridor outside said "room".

My eyesight had been adjusted to the darkness for a few hours, but as soon as my gaze, full of curiosity and confusion, was blinded by a sudden red light, the usual red light. The person was nowhere to be found, not even the faintest shadow, no sounds, just me, the red and the siren, all over again.

The following morning came like any other. She was gone and the red siren with her. And another day brings another morning check up, and so another test.

"Ma'am, what time is it?"

"It's time for you to wake up."

"Another math test?"

"No, today is Thursday."

I immediately understood the meaning behind those words. Since I started my stay here, I learned to hate Thursday with all my heart.

My face immediately lost its color, I could feel my blood freezing in my veins, my muscles tensed and the blood was struggling to be extracted. I tried to hold on to the hand that was analyzing me. With wide eyes I tried to find compassion in the mask that was placed before me, but I couldn't find anything else but my own reflection on the plastic covering her face.

Resignation settled over my face like dust.

This time, it was the room with the gravity machine.

Last time, I got away with a few scrapes and a torn nerve, nothing impressive. It wasn’t even my first broken bone.

The good side of a broken bone? A fracture meant a temporary stop. A couple of months, maybe. But even then, they never let you rest. There were always other tests. Slightly different, still painful.

My grip loosened up. I let myself sink into the bed, drowning in my despair, but she interrupted me. Her wrists clenched she seemed to struggle to speak, she opened her mouth once rearranging her words, and only then formulated a sentence with hesitation.

"Would you like to take a walk... instead of taking the test?"

It seemed that night had suddenly returned, its ghostly silence enveloping everything. Not even the continuous beeping of the machinery next to me reached my ears. My confusion was evident.

What did all this mean? Was it all just a joke, or another test? Were they trying to see how I would react? Were they giving me false hope, only to follow it with an exercise far worse than the previous ones? Was it all just going to be another torture?

But it was, indeed, a very bizarre question for an equally bizarre situation. Who wouldn’t want to skip those tests, after all?

Then the memory of the previous night struck me: the little girl. I didn’t know why, but I was sure it had something to do with her, I couldn't even imagine the reason, but no other differences came to mind compared to the previous days, at least from what I had the opportunity to witness myself, and that I was aware of.

I knew that was a question with only one answer, even if I refused the result would be positive regardless so I had no choice but to agree. A slight nod of the head, my throat suddenly became dry and from which it was difficult to come out words longer than a monosyllable.

I let out a sigh, waiting for my tests to be completed, but at the same time the fear of what was about to happen to me was piercing my mind like a nail driven into wood. Much faster than expected I found myself with my feet on the soft floor, my knees not allowing me to walk in a straight line because of my fear. I was barely holding on to the woman's white coat, hoping that if anything happened to me I could extract some compassion from her. When I was about to step out of the room, I was waiting for that damned thorny collar that strangely never reached my neck, at least not today. The day was getting more and more bizarre with every second. I looked around with my head, searching for the soldiers, but nothing from them either, they seemed to have vanished into thin air.

I noticed, strangely, that the number of scientists in the room had decreased drastically, there were only three of us left, and the third after the blood sampling, had left almost immediately, muttering something to themself. I searched for answers in the expression of the woman next to me, but all that came out was a sigh.

"Luckily for you, someone had made a mess in the laboratory and so we will have to postpone your exercise until next week, aren't you happy?"

I was astonished looking at the woman's blank expression, she simply stared straight ahead at the reflective wall. It wasn't long before the slow-paced old lady began to walk away, my grip loosening her fabric, I was almost left behind by her, as I was flooded by the confusion of the situation.

Everything happenned so quickly, my thoughts spun as everything started blurring around me. I was on the verge of collapsing to the ground. I didn't know how to feel, whether relieved or scared.

Was I no longer needed? Had I become useless? Had someone taken my place? It didn't matter if it meant giving up my old routine. I felt my eyes watering, I was on the verge of crying from happiness, after countless days where everything was getting worse finally there was some good news.

A thin cough woke me from my trance

"If you want you can always return back to your room."

Her gentle voice suddenly became dry of emotion, but this made me quickly walk towards her without saying a word while my sick hand reached for my eye and wiped a falling tear.

I approached the older figure, positioning myself next to her. I didn't know how to feel, but for once I felt good, even if temporarily. I hoped this moment of freedom would last forever.

"If you behave now, you may be able to play on the playground outside in the future."

Of what happened next there were only vague fragments, memories started and never concluded, only a walk through deserted corridors, the white light running through all the surfaces creating an optical effect that made it infinite, a walless labyrinth.

Not even a sigh from the other prisoners or from those who worked there. Only the walking of the woman next to me who preceded mine.

And so the days went by, the physical tests from almost twice a week now decreased to once a month. And consequently I was given more freedom, if I avoided rebelling they gave me more time to walk within those walls. I still had to take the tests but I felt more motivated to complete them. If the intent was to make me behave, well, they had succeeded.

Every week the woman gave me the freedom to stretch my legs a bit, even if her absent expression suggested to me that she wanted to find herself elsewhere, she never failed to remind me that she was doing me a favor, while I watched her in silence.

I also began to hear numerous, most likely unfounded, rumors about about recent events. Some claimed that one of the workers was killed during a training exercise involving one of the study subjects and then tried to escape. I didn't believe it nor I wanted to. To believe it would mean accepting that all the unfortunates could be potential murderers, and it wasn't the case, was it? They were the bad guys, weren't they?

The more time passed, the more my ideals changed, the more I grew and the more freedom I was granted, everything was perfect. At least I thought so? I wasn't sure anymore.

Another morning contrasted with night, a tube once again attached to my arm, blood being pumped along the clear plastic tube. Apparently the blood results had improved along with my mood, and the physical tests that had become once every two months had also yielded better results, I hadn't dislocated any bones, nor had any long-term damage, and I felt more alive than I have ever had. That Thursday morning the woman woke me up once again. By that time, not even the only scientist who took my blood was present, I was left alone with her. I started calling her grandma, but she looked at me askance, as if she wanted to tell me to stop, but didn't have the strength to do so. The memory of that little girl running outside my cell had faded with my problems.

"Grandma, can we go out into the playground today?"

Silence filled the room again as I stretched my arms while still sitting on the bed. On her mask the reflection of the sunlight that filtered into the room darkening her expression and everything it hid.

"Yes, why not? You behaved well."

Her voice neutral, faint, trying to hide from the ears of others and from herself, but loud enough for me to hear. For the first time her hand reached my head, caressing the few remaining hair that covered my skull. Her gloved hand was cold, a dry cold that penetrates my skin, that left me with chills down my spine, but even in the frost there was something pleasant, a friendly intention, or at least I thought.

Deep down, she felt pity for me too, at least I hope so.

And so it was, with my hand gripping her plastic fabric, I held it tightly, no longer having fear or dread in my head, but to seek affection in her almost always unchanging expression: pity and probably remorse.

I walked down the corridor, silence still reigning supreme, as I tried to remember when was my last time in a playground, and what I had played that day.

The answers were burning to come, and in truth they didn't come at all, I didn't remember... I didn't remember anything outside of that place. I didn't.. remember? For all I knew I could have been born in that place, and for all I cared, it had always been that way.

I no longer had any kind of nostalgia for a past that I struggled to grasp; and yet I kept searching for the solution to my question. I kept feeling like a deja vu... and yet it was the first time that... never mind. I'm just confusing myself.

In a second I heard a creak, a red handle above my head, within my reach. That door represented my freedom, a future outside of that place. Gloved hands pushed the door open. I immediately felt the cool air clouding my nostrils, the warm breeze and pollen brushing my face.

A light brighter than the red siren appeared before me, hiding behind the whiteness of the door. It screamed my name, it pulled me closer.

The aforementioned freedom was just a step away from me, yet my legs were paralyzed... I held the woman tighter. I still didn't know what I would find ahead.

"You can go out, just stay close to me and don't hide."

A hand on my shoulder and a push to continue my journey, I didn't know what to do, I couldn't believe her words, yet I wanted to trust everything this woman said. I looked up and stared at his sunlit mask, searching for her eyes, ending up again finding nothingness, only the reflection of what awaited me.

I simply nodded. I had no objections, but there was always something strange, I felt it. A sound was heard in the light, it penetrated my ears. Something that did not try to hide as I did, a sound that reminded me of being alive.

Something I known in the past and that I had almost forgotten: the laughter of a child.

[lanietadelatierra]

The final strike

The following story contains spoilers for The Last of Us Season II, Episode 2. Explicit, 18+ MDNI. Extreme violence, blood, angst. 

Lucy was outside with Mel, patrolling by the cabin. Both were holding their weapons while walking through the thick snow. It was cold, but they were well bundled up in their thick jackets. 

"I need to tell you somethin'," Mel said. 

"What is it?" 

"I’m pregnant." 

"Wait... what? Are you serious?" the girl said, incredulously, and Mel nodded. 

"Who’s the father?" 

"Owen..." 

"Oh my… God..." 

"Please, don’t tell anyone. You’re the only one who knows right now." 

"Don’t worry, I won’t tell nobody." 

"Thanks." 

They were both waiting for Abby to return. She had gone to see if she could find Joel Miller, the man who killed her father. 

"Y’ think it might just be rumors? I mean, you said the other day..." the girl said. 

"Yeah, I think so, but you know how Abby is." 

"Yeah, I know." 

"Stubborn," Mel said, sighing. 

"Yeah, and bitter. Y’all think he’s handsome?" 

"I don’t know. Maybe." 

They shared a knowing laugh. A few seconds later, they spotted horses approaching at full speed. They stared. When they were close, they realized it was Abby with an older man and a young woman. Abby, sitting behind him, dismounted the horse. 

"Inside," she ordered. 

Mel and Lucy exchanged suspicious glances. They walked into the cabin behind them. Lucy looked at the young woman with the man and noticed her belly bulging under her thick jacket, indicating she was pregnant, which would change all their plans. She seemed about five or six months along. Her gaze shifted to the woman’s belly. The girl was unzipping her jacket and taking off her gloves, slipping them into her pocket. 

"Okay, everybody grab blankets, ammo, whatever weapons you got, we’re headin’ out in three minutes," the man said, guiding the group. 

"Uh, sorry. I’m Abby. This is Nora, Manny, Owen, Mel, and Lucy. Her name’s Evie, and he is… Joel." 

All eyes turned to the tall man, about six feet, in his 60s, pretty handsome. Without thinking, Manny pressed his weapon to Evie’s head, wrapping his arm around her neck from behind. She suddenly felt the butt of a shotgun against the back of her head and froze in fear. 

"Joel... Joel..." 

“Don’t you dare lay a goddamn hand on her! She’s pregnant and ain't got nothin’ to do with this,” Joel said, his voice raised. 

Abby let out a small laugh. Owen and Nora pointed their weapons at Joel, and he raised his hands. 

"Oh, yes she does," Abby said sarcastically, looking at Joel before turning to Evie, whose eyes were wide with fear. "How is it that this old man deposited his seed here?" she added, and her hand brushed the young woman's belly, which made her flinch, but Manny held her tightly. 

"Put her against the window," Abby ordered Manny firmly, and he obeyed. He walked her over and seated her with her back pressed against the large glass window, which overlooked the mountains and the town of Jackson. Then Abby turned her gaze to Mel. 

“Get him too.” 

Mel grabbed Joel by the arm and positioned him to sit beside Evie. Both were sitting there on the floor, their backs to the window, surrounded by the six of them. 

“I’m givin’ you one chance to tell the truth, Joel. If you do, and we all know it, I’ll let her live,” Abby said, crossing her arms. 

"Wait, Abby. I thought…," Mel interrupted. 

"Shut up," Abby quickly snapped, then continued, "Where’s the last place you saw the Fireflies?" 

Joel looked at Evie, who was also looking at him, then back at Abby to answer. 

"In Salt Lake." 

Abby nodded. 

"At least you’re honest." 

She uncrossed her arms and walked to the side. 

"I saved your life." 

"What life?" Abby said sarcastically. She grabbed her weapon and shot Joel in the knee. Joel screamed out in agony. Evie started whimpering, even more terrified. 

The bleeding wound on Joel’s left leg revealed torn flesh and a shattered bone poking out slightly, surrounded by blood soaking into the fabric of his pants and slowly dripping onto the frozen ground. 

“Tourniquet,” she ordered Lucy, who approached Joel, removing her belt. She knelt beside him, wrapping the belt around his leg and tightening it. Joel grunted and screamed in pain as she did this. The old man looked at Manny and Lucy while she finished. Then Lucy stepped back. 

Abby approached Evie, who was still crying, and crouched in front of her. 

"I’m really shocked that you love this stupid old man," she said sarcastically, then continued, “But that ain’t gonna save him or save you, so I’d recommend not wastin’ your energy cryin’.” 

Evie stared at her as she spoke, tears streaming from her eyes, her chest rising and falling quickly, scared and nervous. 

Abby’s eyes shifted to Manny’s boots, then back to the girl. She smiled and stood up. 

"Do it," she ordered Manny. 

"Wait, Abby. She’s pregnant," Lucy interrupted. 

"Shut up or I’ll crush your skull." 

“Please, she’s got nothin’ to do with this, please,” Joel begged, but his pleas were ignored. 

"Let’s do what we came to do," Owen said to Manny. 

Manny stepped toward Evie. As he got closer, Evie tried to move back, terrified, but she collided with the glass, knowing what was coming. 

"Please... no..." 

Ignoring her, he delivered a hard kick to her swollen belly. The pain hit her like a wave, knocking the breath out of her for a few seconds, leaving her unable to scream. A ringing sound filled her ears, as though the world had faded around her. Evie bent over from the pain, a ragged gasp escaping her lips. Instinctively, she placed her hands over her belly, as if she could protect the life inside her, but before she could react, Manny delivered another kick with relentless brutality, knocking the air out of her and filling her with pain that nearly made her lose consciousness. Over and over, he unleashed all his anger on her. Joel watched, but he couldn’t do a thing. Owen was pointing his weapon at him. The others watched intently. Lucy and Mel had teary eyes, disapproving of what they saw. But orders were orders, whether they liked it or not. 

"Stop," Abby said, and Manny paused. 

Evie lay on the ground, her legs moving slowly and unconsciously, a pool of liquid beneath her. The kicks had broken her water, and her amniotic fluid leaked through her jeans, now exposed for all to see. She was lying on her side, her face pressed to the floor, her hand beside her head. She was still breathing, but it was difficult. Her eyes were open, but she didn’t move. She only moved her fingers slowly and her legs. 

A smile crept onto Abby’s face as she saw this, and she walked over to Joel, who was destroyed, his eyes glassy. She kneeled in front of him. Joel’s chest was rising and falling with the fury he held inside as he stared into her eyes. 

"She’s still breathin’. I told you I’d let her live," Abby said, reaching her hand to Joel’s forehead, wiping the sweat away with her finger, never taking her eyes off his. 

“We don’t kill people who can’t defend themselves, that’s our code, and now you’re it. But it don’t matter if there’s a code or not, I’m still gonna kill you... slowly.” 

Abby stood up and walked over to grab a golf club. Holding it, she approached Joel. 

"Stupid... old... man... you don’t get to rush it." 

Abby slammed the club into the bloody wound with all her strength, making Joel scream in agony. She repeated the hit, and Joel screamed again, his voice echoing in the room. One last time, with all her might, the club struck, and the sickening sound of bone breaking filled the air, freezing the blood of anyone who heard it. 

Seconds later, Abby was angrily pounding Joel’s already bloodied, bruised face, and he lay unconscious, eyes wide, on the ground, side down. Abby was shouting as she struck him. 

"Abby... enough," Owen said, trying to stop her, but Abby ignored him, too focused on hitting him to hear anyone else. 

Meanwhile, Evie lay on the floor, unable to scream anymore. Her face was one of pure terror. She watched in horror as Abby, with unrelenting rage, drove the golf club into Joel’s neck. Blood poured out, staining the floor as Joel exhaled his final breath. A high-pitched scream escaped Evie’s lips, echoing with pain and fear through the room. But the scream wasn’t just because of the horrific scene she’d just witnessed; it was because a sharp pain struck her abdomen: the contractions had started. 

Abby slowly turned toward her, her expression unreadable. Her eyes were dark pools of suppressed emotions, a mix of anger, determination, and something Evie couldn’t identify. Time seemed to stop as they locked eyes, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood and the palpable fear of what could happen next. 

[catierambles]

Once in a Blue Moon Ch. 21

gotta a little choked up writing this one ngl

The others met up with them as they ran towards the sound, the smell of blood getting stronger. They all shifted back at a run when they saw her on the ground, curled in on herself, her side a gory mess.

“Sam!” Sy exclaimed as they went to her, kneeling around her.

“Bryan...” She whimpered, holding her hand to her side.

“Lemme see, baby.” Sy said, pulling her hand away gently to see the bullet wound that bled steadily.

“There’s an exit wound.” August said, feeling along her back, “Through and through.”

“Not enough blood for a vital hit.” Geralt said and looked over the wounds with a critical eye. “Non-fatal area, but we need to stop the bleeding.”

“Geralt, see if you can find the bullet.” August said. Their tones were stern, matter-of-fact, but inside they were a maelstrom of rage and fear, Geralt’s movements tight as he walked around the area.

“Found it.” Geralt said, “Tree strike. Fresh.” His fingers tightened as claws curled out from under his nails and he tore into the wood, digging out the bullet, but dropped it with a growl. “It’s silver. She was shot with silver.”

“This wasn’t a hunting accident.” Mike said, his voice wavering, brushing the tears from her cheeks, “Whoever did this knew what they were shooting at.”

“They’re long gone.” Sy said, “Not pickin’ up the scent anymore. Musta taken the shot and got outta dodge leavin’ her for dead. Baby, you need to shift. It’ll kickstart the healin’.”

“It burns.” She sobbed and he brushed her hair out of her face.

“I know, silver burns like fire, but you need to shift to slow the bleedin’ so we can get you back.”

“O-okay.” She said and they watched as she started to shift but reverted back with a pained yell. “I—I can’t, it—it hurts.”

“Fuck.” Sy said, “Baby, I am so sorry, but I gotta do this. I can’t have you bleed out out here.”

“Bryan...” August said, his tone warning.

“Can you think of any other fuckin’ way?” He asked, “She needs to shift and she can’t do it on her own!”

“Do it.” August said and Sy turned his attention back to her, a shiver moving through the area as he pushed out with his wolf, finding hers and pulling at it. A scream ripped it’s way up her throat as her bones moved under her skin.

“Stop!” Mike yelled, “It’s gonna kill her!”

“Sam, you can’t fight it.” Sy said, his face pulled in a pained expression and his voice breaking, “You gotta let it happen. Just let go and let it happen.” Another shiver and another scream tore it’s way up her throat before the shift happened far too quickly to be natural, leaving her whining and panting in front of them. “Sam?” He reached for her but stopped at the growl and snarl that pulled her lips away from her teeth, her eyes pained but full of fire. “Baby, I’m so sorry, but I had to do it.”

“Bryan.” Walter said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Head back to the cabin. We’ll take care of her.”

“Y-yeah.” He said and stood, shedding his skin and running off as pain tightened his chest.

He shifted the moment he got back, heading up to his room and almost collapsing into bed even though he desperately needed to shower. Sy was still in bed when he heard the others return, August giving out orders. There was a knock on his door before it pushed open slowly, Mike poking his head into the room, having put clothes on at some point.

“Hey.” He said and Sy hummed at him. “She shifted back on the return trip. The bleeding stopped. Helped that the bullet wasn’t in her.”

“She conscious?”

“In and out.” Mike said, “You had to do it, Bryan.”

“Did it have to be me though?” He asked, “Did it really? I ripped her wolf outta her, Mikey. Like pops used to do to us.”

“He did it if we breathed too loud. You did it to try to save her life, and you were as gentle as you could be with it.” Mike said, “I can’t do it, Walter can’t as far as I know, and August and Geralt are kinda sledgehammers. If they could, they may have been too heavy handed with it.”

“You said I was gonna kill her.”

“I was looking at my Mate that had been shot and was bleeding on the ground.” He said, “Wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. I didn’t mean it. I was scared I was going to lose her.”

“Where is she?”

“We got her cleaned up and August took her to the nearest hospital to get looked over.” Mike said, “They’re probably going to keep her there. The rest of us are going to join him, you should come too.” Sy nodded but didn’t say anything. “You’re not dad, Bryan.” With that, he left, closing the door behind him and Sy turned his face into his pillow, his eyes burning.

The house was empty when he finally pulled himself out of bed, bloody towels on the floor in the bathroom when he went to shower. Walter and August’s trucks were gone, Geralt’s bike and Samantha’s SUV still there, and he got behind the wheel of his own truck, pressing the start button and sitting there after the engine turned over. He knew she probably wouldn’t want to see him, remembering the rage and fear in her eyes after he made her shift, but he needed to see with his own two eyes that she was okay, not just find out from a text or a call from one of the others.

The drive was made in silence and he parked in visitor parking, sitting there for a long while after turning off the engine before gathering the nerve to get out, heading into the hospital and up to the desk.

“Uh, hey.” He said, the desk nurse looking up. “I’m looking for Samantha Graves. She was brought in maybe a couple hours ago?” The nurse didn’t say anything, typing on her computer.

“Relation to the patient?”

“She’s my Mate.” Sy said and the nurse looked up at him, confusion writ plain on her face.

“Your—?” Understanding. “Oh, I see. She’s out of surgery and in recovery. Second floor, room twelve.”

“Thank you.” He said, patting the desk slightly with a weak smile and headed for the elevator, taking it up to the second floor, a pit forming in his stomach. The others were probably there with her, but he’d look at her through a window or a doorway and then he’d leave before she noticed him. Heading down the hall, he saw Geralt sitting outside of a room, leaning against the wall, ever the protector. “How is she?”

“In pain.” Geralt said simply, not looking up at him. “Her system keeps burning through what they’re giving her.”

“Yeah, pain meds don’t do shit for us.” Sy said, “Docs find anythin’?”

“No serious internal damage.” Geralt said, “Bullet basically cauterized as it went through, keeping the internal bleeding to a minimum.”

“Small blessin’s.” He said and Geralt just grunted. “She awake?” He nodded. “The others in there with her?” Another nod. “Hospital woulda notified the police when she was brought in. Any come by yet?” He just shook his head. His hand laid on the door knob, the pit in his stomach growing.

“Just do it.” Geralt said simply and Sy paused for a moment before he pushed open the door, his eyes going to her on the bed. August was leaning against the wall, Walter sitting on one side of the bed with Mike sitting on the other.

“Hey.” She said when she saw him, giving him a weak smile.

“Baby, I’m—” His voice broke and he blinked hard.

“Come here.” She said, opening her arms for him and Mike moved aside as he went to her, almost collapsing into her embrace, sitting on the bed

“I’m so sorry.” He said, his voice choked, “I’m so fuckin’ sorry I did that to you. That I hurt you like that.”

“Walter explained it to me.” She said, “That some Alphas can pull at another's wolf to help them heal or to hurt them. You did it to help me heal, not to hurt me. I would have bled out before you guys got me to help if you hadn’t done it. You saved my life, Bryan.”

“I love you.” He said and he pulled away, her fingers wiping the damp from his face.

“I love you too.”

[natsukihappyhousehold]

Because I can't reply somehow (I don't know why my tumblr is weird with the replies) I want to add "how much Reinhard is down bad for Subaru in the now EOS LIM mobile game"

Sorry I'm dumping here 🙇

Even though the LIM story is not written by Tappei (they have their own scenario team), Tappei does supervise the script so he approves of all the routes in the game!

Arc 2: To get to Reinhard's route, Subaru needs to choose to go look for help and not watch over the mansion when he leaves (third loop). There's actually an option whether Subaru choose to scream out Reinhard's name in the middle of the street in the capital or not. If Subaru choose to call for Reinhard (raises brazenness point): Subaru: "Let me try it out. Help me, Rein--" Reinhard: "Hey, Subaru. Did you call me?" Subaru: "I haven't finished calling you, though?!" If Subaru choose not to call for Reinhard (raises knowledge point): Subaru: "No matter how extraordinary he is, there's no way he'll come just from me calling out his name. I'll steadily look--" Reinhard: "Hey, Subaru. Did you call me?" Subaru: "I didn't!! I was just thinking about you in my heart?!" Both options will lead to this: Subaru: "No matter how you slice it, your timing is too fast!" Reinhard: "I also didn't think that I'd meet with Subaru again so soon." Subaru: "…..Well, whatever." (the second option cracks me up because it lowkey tells the player that calling out for Reinhard is a stupid move lol)And this route you have Subaru being lugged around by Reinhard like a sack of rice lol

(also those conversations are voiced and Reinhard sounds so sweet because he's happy he can meet Subaru again lol)

Arc 3: the canon route is Subaru doesn't immediately seek for Reinhard's help in the first loop. In LIM, Subaru can choose to move around the capital to ask for help before setting out to Mathers' Mansion. At night, Subaru can go to Reinhard's mansion and asks for help. Like in canon, Reinhard already goes back to Astrea Territory along with Felt. This route is already locked because whether Subaru waits for Reinhard or he decides to go alone with Rem, Reinhard will arrive and offer his help. Even though Subaru doesn't know about the situation, Reinhard immediately agrees to help because it's probably dire enough for Subaru to ask for help. Reinhard: "--Did you call me?" Subaru: "Whoa!! Why?!" The Sword Saint who wasn’t supposed to return— Yet in the palm he held out was the small stone Subaru had kicked. Subaru: "I-I did call you...! But even if you could hear me just now, how sharp are your ears to rush here?!" Reinhard: "Just a coincidence. There's something that I want to check so I came back. And I found you two here." Subaru: "I-I see..." Also this convo: Subaru: "But you're Felt's knight, right?" Reinhard: "I see. But this is my own decision. If you're in trouble, that's plenty enough of a reason." Subaru: "Oh, thanks..." Reinhard: "Save your thanks until the problem is solved. This is a friend's request, so I'll do my utmost best." Iirc, Reinhard kills Petelgeuse' soul with his bare hands lol

Prisoner Number 459 Story: It's a branch of Prison King Subaru route. In that route, Rom-jii will visit Subaru to share some info about Subaru's imprisonment. We can ask Rom-jii to tell Reinhard to look for the mastermind behind the murder and the imprisonment. In the end, it ends with the hints that Subaru stops thinking difficult things and decided to leave everything to Reinhard lol (There are also voiced lines here--I like how kind Reinhard's "Good morning, Subaru. It looks like you sleep well." sounds like when he picks up Subaru from his prison cell.)

Idol Reinhard and baseball Reinhard. Subaru makes the clothes (plus the song for the idol one) for him. THANK YOU SUBARU!!!

Also Reinhard always going to Mathers' Mansion every year (2-3 times...) to give Subaru some New Years' Money (free pulls) lol. Reinhard acting like Subaru's older family member is cute.

With all the analysis going around about arc 3 - for better or worse - why hasn't anyone told me how fucking down Reinhard is for Subaru?!

As soon as they meet in the capital, Reinhard immediately tells him that he expected him to be there because he always makes the right choice and would protect Miss Emilia. And then when Julius arrives he tells him not to worry about Subaru's gaze because "he does it to analyze people." Where the hell does he get these conclusions from?! They only saw each other once a month ago, but I guess Subaru's Rizz was enough to reduce him to the same level as Rem!

I don't know what Tappei's goal was here, but as far as I'm concerned it just convinced me to be more interested in ReinSuba.

[emoanemo]

some screenshots of my rook! their name is mars mercar, a rogue archer and member of the shadow dragons. terrible at reading the room and makes jokes at every possibly opportunity 🤦 somehow ended up falling for neve, otherwise gets along well with everyone except emmerich cuz they have very different opinions on immortality and death.

[tamagotchikgs]

i had so many repeat dreams from years ago when i was sleeping it was so strange

[birdmenmanga]

guy who has only read kekkaishi, watching interstellar for the first time: wow this guy is soooo sumikocore

[lululeighsworld]

holds a mic up to FE14 characters who have interesting dynamics with Gunter and asks them what they think of his relationship with Leigh ❤️💜

blank template can be found here!! GunterLeigh art is by @/pinkprincessia-art, everything else is cipher + 4koma!

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

minor but frustrating things about veilguard: your wardrobe is in your bedroom. you know the place where scenes auto trigger if you try to go into it. so if you want to say turn off an appearance for your casual wear before a romance scene, you simply cannot do that unless you replay 4-5 hours of game and boss fight

[loumauve]

I snapped today at work, and by snapped I mean I politely commented on a help desk ticket by summing up an mess of an (type of) issue that's come up for at least the fourth time in the 2+ months I've been managing user accounts, and asked the person responsible to fix it (himself for once) because last time I fixed his mess-up it took me two whole days to work out the details with at least four other colleagues from different departments and I really don't want to do it again. there's other shit that needs doing, I've been working 10+ hour days for most of this week already, so I need to cut down not add on more.

(good thing tho - at least we managed to fix the issue where the dataset of a newer employee got mixed up with another one of the same name and therefore wasn't able to apply for any of the access/accounts she needed. technically not entirely my area but it does impact us not being allowed to create an account for her so I figured I might as well track that issue down. took three days and at least three other people, but hey - it should all work out now. yay for that)

[acircusfullofdemons]

I was not meant for retail I was meant to be an eldritch librarian's assistant