#this is very not finished but i spent too much time on it to not post it so here

[spencersmopbucket]

With the Devil | Remmick

Pairing: Remmick x Reader Summary: Mama and Daddy had always taught you not to let evil into your mind — but they'd never taught you how not to fall in love with the devil.

Themes & Warnings: corruption, smut, oral (fem receiving), mentions of religion, vampire:))))))

IDC REMMICK IS SO HOT

You were perfect. That's what Mama always told you — you'd had it ingrained into your mind since you were just a baby. You were beautiful, you were kind, you were faithful.

Your Mama was a medicine woman. Your daddy was the town preacher. And you, their little girl, were the most eligible bachelorette in the town of Clarksdale. Your wild, curly hair was always pinned back, nails always painted, lips always glossed. You dressed cleanly and modestly. Your dark, unmarred skin was luminous and moisturized, allowing you a glow that was incomparable to any other girl your age.

You were never late to school. You never spent too much time talking to the boys. You prayed every night, stocking-clad knees on the wood floor, whispering softly.

You always imagined, with the help of your parents, a husband. Firm and kind, with a straight white smile and clean hands. A businessman, maybe. A man that frequented church. Nothing like them dogs every other woman raved about.

The thought of them made you scoff.

When you thought of marriage, you thought of what your Mama and Daddy had coached you.

Until you met him.

Your undoing. Your downfall. Your sin.

You saw him first on a Thursday. The air was heavy with summer and sin — one of those Mississippi nights that made the cotton stick to your skin and the devil’s whisper easier to hear. The juke was loud, pulsing with laughter and music you weren’t allowed to dance to. But you stood just outside it, waiting for your older friend to finish flirting with the barkeep, your Bible clutched to your chest like armor.

That’s when you felt it. Not saw — felt. A presence. Ancient. Unholy. Beautiful. Dangerous, above all else.

He was leaning against the fence, dressed like a man who had nowhere to be and no one to answer to. A shirt too fine for the Delta heat. Eyes that glowed red beneath the brim of a black hat. And a grin — slow and sharp — like he knew exactly how you’d taste when you broke.

He didn’t belong in Clarksdale — not with the dust of this town on his boots, not with the way his eyes burned like coals under moonlight. And yet, he leaned there like he’d been born of the very land, like the shadows curled around his boots to rest.

His gaze slid to you. Slow. Deliberate.

“Evenin’, dove,” he said, his voice warm and rough, touched by that unmistakable lilt — like poetry slurred in whiskey. “Bit far from the chapel, aren’t ya?”

You clutched your Bible tighter, the leather cover slick against your palms. You were taught to fear the devil. No one told you he’d look at you like that. Like you were temptation.

“I’m waiting on someone,” you managed, your voice barely audible.

He smiled at that — not kindly. No. It was indulgent. Knowing.

“Oh, I can see that,” he said, pushing off the fence with the kind of lazy grace that made the air tighten. “Tell me, do all the good girls carry scripture like a shield?”

Your throat went dry. You opened your mouth — to quote something, maybe, to say something about God’s protection, or how you weren’t interested — but the words stuck. Because he was close now, and the scent of him was thick with smoke and cedar and something sweet beneath it all. Not perfume. Not cologne. Something unnatural. Something wrong.

“Relax,” he murmured, eyes trailing across your face like a caress. “Ain’t come to hurt you.”

You didn’t believe him. But you wanted to.

“Who are you?” you asked, breathless.

He touched the brim of his hat, the red in his eyes glowing faintly in the dark.

“Remmick.”

The name hit the air like a curse.

Your stomach sank. You’d heard it before. Old wives whispered it over boiling pots and under their breath in the graveyard. They said Remmick had danced with witches and kissed the mouths of holy women. Said he’d killed everyone in the Smokestack juke joint in 1932 and made an army of the dead. You'd always thought he was just a scary story, just a wives tale. He didn't exist. He couldn't.

Vampires weren't real.

Your mama once told you never to say his name aloud. That if you said it, he’d know. But you hadn’t said it. He had. And still — he looked at you like he’d known you your whole life.

Like he’d been waiting.

His smirk curled around his lips, like a snake up a vine.

"We'll see each other again, lovely dove. I swear it. Get home safe now." He said, his Irish brogue evident.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t. Your feet were rooted to the ground like the Magnolia trees your mama prayed under. The juke's laughter turned to static in your ears, the cicadas buzzed too loud, and the warm wind brushed past your dress like a warning.

Remmick tipped his hat a little lower, and just like that — he was gone.

Not walked away. Not turned and faded. Gone.

The air rushed back into your lungs, sharp and stinging, like it had been waiting too long to fill you. You looked around — no sign of him. Just the night, heavy and wet with the scent of honeysuckle and trouble.

Your older friend reappeared a few minutes later, giggling and smelling like bourbon, none the wiser. “You alright, sugar?” she asked, fanning herself. “You look like you seen a ghost.”

You shook your head. “N-no. I’m fine.” But you weren’t.

Because you walked home clutching that Bible like it could still save you — but your fingers trembled, and your mind reeled, and somewhere deep in your chest, your heart had started to ache.

And worse than that… A part of you hoped he really would come back.

You knew you were done for, just like you'd heard in all of the wives tales. Once Remmick chose you, it crept in like a secret, hushed words in the back of your mind. He slowly ate you alive until all that was left was sin.

The nights after that first meeting grew darker, heavier. You tried to hold onto what Mama and Daddy taught you — faith, purity, the promise of salvation — but every shadow seemed to whisper his name. Every breeze carried the ghost of his voice, low and honeyed, calling you closer.

You found yourself drawn to places you never would’ve dared before: the cracked sidewalks under flickering streetlamps, the edges of the cotton fields where the cicadas sang their mournful song. And always, there was that ache — a hunger that wasn’t just physical, but something deeper, darker.

Remmick’s presence slithered through your thoughts like a poison and a balm all at once. You were afraid, but you were enthralled. His sin was infectious, but it felt like home.

You didn’t want to admit it. But you were already his.

And with every secret moment stolen beneath the moon’s watchful gaze, the old you slipped away, unraveling like a thread in a worn quilt.

Mama’s prayers echoed in your mind, fragile and fading, as you whispered into the night:

“Lord, save me…” But even as the words left your lips, you knew.

You were lost. And loving every breath of it.

The next time you saw Remmick, you were lying in bed. This night was worse than the others — you couldn't sleep. It evaded you. You sweat into your sheets, twisted around your legs as you tossed and turned.

You could feel him. Inside of you. In your chest, in your head, calling out to you.

Your heart hammered like a drumbeat in the quiet dark, matching the rhythm of the whisper curling through your thoughts. You dared not speak his name aloud — Mama’s warning still burned in your memory— but the pull was undeniable, a silent siren song that rooted you to the bed, torn between fear and craving.

Then, as if summoned by your unspoken plea, a shadow slipped through the cracked window, sliding across your room like liquid smoke. Remmick.

His eyes, red embers glowing softly in the moonlight, fixed on you with a hunger that was both fierce and gentle, like he was seeing through to the very soul you fought to protect.

“Restless, dove?” He smirked in amusement. You straightened, your muscles tense under his gaze. You were scared, yes. But you couldn’t ignore the creeping satisfaction under your skin.

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

He stepped closer to the bed, ancient hands running along your cotton sheets. You watched, biting your lip.

“Strugglin’ so hard to sleep. Because of me. Yet you won’t so much as whisper my name.” He said, his voice honey soaked. He was designed to be alluring. It’s how he caught his prey, how he claimed all those lives decades ago.

He leaned in closer, his frame casting a long shadow over your bed, his fingers ghosting over the sheets like he was memorizing the shape of your restlessness. The scent of him —earthy, metallic, something older than blood and fire — curled in your nose and made your breath hitch.

“You’re afraid that sayin’ it will make this real,” he murmured, voice low enough to pass for a dream. “But you know better, dove. This was real the moment I saw you. The moment you looked back.”

Your throat was dry, your heart pounding like a trapped bird inside your chest. You could still feel the weight of your Mama’s cross necklace at your collarbone, tucked beneath the lace of your nightdress. But even that holy pressure couldn’t stop the heat curling in your belly at his nearness.

Remmick’s lips quirked higher at your silence, his gaze dark with something ancient, possessive. “You keep prayin’,” he said, brushing the edge of your pillow, “but deep down, you don’t want to be saved.”

You flinched at the truth of it.

He laughed, soft and slow, like he’d just caught a fish on the line.

“There it is,” he whispered, kneeling beside your bed, his face inches from yours now. “That feeling in your guts… That’s not fear, is it?”

Your squeezed your eyes closed, laying back.

“Leave, devil.” You whispered back, holding onto the last few bits of restraint you had.

Remmick didn’t move.

He hovered there beside your bed, his breath brushing your cheek like the breeze before a storm, thick with static and promise.

“Now why would I do that,” he said softly, voice curling around the edges of your will, “when you called me here?”

Your eyes flew open.

“I didn’t—”

“Oh, but you did,” he interrupted, with a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “Every night you twist in those sheets, whispering into the dark. Every time you dream of fire and teeth and touch. That’s a prayer too. Just not the kind your mama taught you.”

You turned your face away, jaw clenched, but your body betrayed you — heat rising, breath catching.

He leaned in closer, his voice a sinful hymn against your ear.

“Say my name,” he coaxed. “Just once. Let it taste your tongue. You’ll feel better. I promise.”

The devil’s hand rested just beside your head, not quite touching you — but you swore you could feel the chill of it down to your bones.

And God help you…

You wanted to.

His voice was velvet-drenched sin, a low murmur that made the air around you hum.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered again, and this time, there was something darker in it — not just coaxing, but claiming. His fingers finally brushed your cheek, light as a ghost, burning like a brand. “Let me in. Say my name, hm?”

You should’ve screamed. You should’ve prayed.

Instead, you turned your head back toward him, lips parted, breath trembling. Your soul stood on the edge of something vast and terrible — but it didn’t want to step back.

“Remmick,” you breathed, soft as a confession.

The effect was immediate.

His smile deepened into something hungry, almost reverent. Like he’d waited a century just to hear your voice say it.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured, dragging the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. “Took you long enough.”

And with that, the last of your restraint crumbled — and the devil stepped through the door you’d just opened.

Before you could second-guess yourself, his lips crashed against yours.

It wasn’t gentle.

It was desperate, searing, like a man starved of something he’d been craving for far too long. His hand slid into your hair, fingers curling tight as he pulled you closer, devouring every soft sound that left your throat. His mouth tasted like smoke and blood and something impossibly sweet. Something addictive.

Your body arched before you even realized it, your hands clinging to the front of his shirt, as if you could tether yourself to the storm he brought with him.

He groaned into the kiss, a low, guttural sound that rumbled from his chest, and the bed creaked beneath his weight as he pushed closer. His other hand found your waist, dragging you against him like he had every right to.

“Good, good girl,” he rasped, voice thick with satisfaction as his thumb brushed the corner of your kiss-swollen mouth. His eyes burned like embers in the dark. “Mine now.”

His grip on your waist tightened, possessive, unyielding — not cruel, but claiming. Worshipful in a way that felt far more dangerous than hate ever could.

“No god can take you back.”

The words slithered into your soul, final and eternal. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t pray. You didn’t run.

Because in that moment — half-wrapped in cotton sheets and sin, heart thudding in time with the devil’s touch — you knew he was right.

You belonged to him.

And you didn’t want to be saved.

His hand quickly found your nightgown, and before you knew it:

Riiiip.

You wore nothing underneath. Your body was exposed to him completely, glistening with the sweat of a sleepless night, the slight fear he induced, the anticipation. His eyes traced your body predatorily, his tongue swiping his lip.

He hovered above you, gaze searing as it drank in every inch of bare skin, your breath shallow beneath him. The heat between you was suffocating — not just from the summer air, but from the charged silence, the pull of something ancient and forbidden threading itself through every heartbeat.

“Look at you,” Remmick murmured, voice low and reverent, almost mocking in its tenderness. “Waitin’ for me. Not a prayer in that pretty little head. What would Mama and Daddy think? Hm?”

He grinned as he said it, knowing the answer didn’t matter. His fingers ghosted over your collarbone, then lower, savoring the way you trembled — not just from fear, but from surrender.

“You were their pride,” he went on, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Now look at you… Writhin’ in sin for the devil himself.”

Your breath hitched, shame and desire tangling somewhere deep in your chest. His name nearly slipped from your lips again, and he heard it — felt it — in the way your body arched, in the pulse pounding at your throat.

Remmick chuckled darkly. “Good girl.”

His voice was velvet, soaked in smoke.

“‘S alright. I’m gonna make it all better now,” Remmick purred, his accent curling around the words like smoke.

His hand slid behind your neck, tilting your head gently, like you were something delicate — precious, even. His touch was warm, reverent, wicked. Everything about him was temptation draped in silk and shadow.

His mouth was hot — too hot — like the kiss of summer lightning right before a storm breaks. Wet, slow, deliberate. He mouthed at the base of your throat, then dragged his lips to your pulse, leaving kisses that were more like claims than affection. Another. Then another. Each one messier, hungrier, until your skin buzzed beneath the heat of him, your breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a whimper.

“What a pretty noise, baby. Keep ’em comin’,” Remmick murmured, his voice curling around your ear like smoke, smug and sinful.

His mouth never left your skin and he chased every sound you made like it was his favorite hymn, each whimper and gasp a confession. His fingers gripped your hips with just enough pressure to remind you who was in control, and his teeth scraped lightly at your throat, not biting — not yet — just warning.

“Don’t hold back on me now,” he rasped, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I want all of it. Every sound you’ve been too good to make. Every little song you swallowed when it was just you and your fingers at night.”

Your breath hitched, caught between the need to resist and the desperate want to surrender. His words wrapped around you like a dark lullaby, drawing out every hidden desire you thought you’d buried deep.

“Remmick..” you moaned.

His smile deepened, sharp and possessive. “That’s it, baby. Say my name like you mean it.”

His fingers traveled towards where you burned the brightest, where his attention was most needed. You whimpered, your hips bucking involuntarily, exposing all the sinful thoughts that hid themselves so far back in your mind.

His thumb traced the wet folds. You gasped.

“There, there. I’ve gotcha.”

You could’ve cried as he sunk down on the bed, pulling your sticky thighs apart. He licked his lips, looking at the glistening scene between your legs.

“Gonna ruin you. And yer gonna thank me, sweet girl.”

You shivered under his touch, every nerve in your body accepting its fate. You no longer wanted to resist. There wasn’t an inkling of it. The devil had claimed you.

And you were already his willing captive.

His tongue met your pussy, licking a warm, wet stripe onto the center. You mewled, your legs involuntarily closing, but he forced them back open with a dark, warning look.

He leaned back in again, wrapping his lips around your needy bud, lapping it with his tongue and then sucking. You moaned, your hand on autopilot, coming down to wrap each finger into his thick, messy hair.

“Remmick!”

You felt him literally grin into your cunt, releasing a lewd sound as he slurped another firm suck, making you twitch.

His tongue worked wonders, exploring every fold, tracing every contour. Your eyes rolled back into your head as he worked, lewd, wet sounds filling your room.

He came back off, his mouth glistening.

“Where’s your God now? This pretty pussy has never belonged to anyone but Remmick. It always has.”

With that, he gathered spit into his mouth, dropping it onto your drenched cunt. Using his tongue, he spread the warm substance around, painting your pussy with saliva.

Then, he delivered the crushing blow.

One more suck on your clit, giving you just enough pressure.

Your back arched, stars filled your vision, and you let out a languid moan. He chuckled into your cunt, letting you ride his face all the way through your orgasm.

When he was done, he pulled away. A string of spit and cum pulled away with him. He wiped it with his hand, sucking it from his fingers in a sinful show.

You laid, exhausted, chest heaving. You’d never experienced something like that before. You’d cum, yes, the only thing about your life you’d hidden from your parents. But it was never like that. Never that electric. And for once, you didn’t even feel guilty.

Remmick was growing on you.

Sensing your exhaustion, he hummed. “I haven’t much time ‘til sunrise, dove. But I’ll let ya get a peaceful sleep for a moment.”

He laid down next to you. You froze at first, confusion written on your face. But as if he had calming powers, you eased almost immediately, his scent filling your nose and his presence melting your fear away. This wasn’t normal. This was adjustment to sin. Adjustment to the devil. But you couldn’t much care right now.

Remmick shifted closer, his hand sliding beneath the sheets to rest just above your hip, possessive and protective all at once. You shouldn’t have felt safe — not in the arms of something whispered about in church warnings and graveyard stories — but you did. Terrifyingly so.

His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, and you let yourself match it. He wasn’t human. He wasn’t righteous. He wasn’t even good.

But he was yours now.

His words dripped like warm molasses in your ear, thick and saccharine, laced with something darker.

“Waited for ya for ages. Decades,” Remmick whispered, curling around you like smoke, his fingers tracing invisible promises along your spine. “A beautiful bride, you’ll make.”

You shivered, not from fear — not anymore — but from something ancient stirring in your bones. Something that recognized him. Something that belonged to him.

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

But you didn’t pull away.

“Sleep. I won’t be here when ya wake, but.. when night falls, you can always call my name.”

[mydearzero]

The Babysitter | Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x fem!Reader

Summary: You didn’t have any superpowers, nor were you even qualified for the position, yet somehow a mishap between Alexei and Yelena ends up in getting you a new job. Bob-sitter. 

Contents: No Y/N, fem!reader, college student!reader, mentions of food and eating in this chapter.

Read it on AO3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3 - Sweet Tooth

2.3K words

You didn’t really know what to expect of your new job. From what you understood from your conversation with Yelena, it was mostly intended for you to stick around Bob when they went on missions. But then came the unexpected attacks, or last-minute meetings. Alexei had concluded it’d be easiest if you just spent most of your time at the Watchtower. Your classes were mostly online, so it didn’t make too much of a difference in your life. It was good for you, too, to socialize with someone other than your laptop. 

The first week was somewhat awkward. You’d tried a little too hard to keep Bob engaged, but soon realized he much preferred a silent companion. Not that he didn’t enjoy conversation, or your presence, but more that he craved actual genuine interest and not the artifice you were trying to engage him with. The happy inbetween ended up being him reading in the windowsill while you did your coursework. 

The rest of the team was busier in their day to day life than you’d expected. John spent most of his time in his own home, trying to rekindle his relationship with his wife and child. He still came to the Watchtower every other day, joining the team for dinner and meetings. So many meetings. What they were about, you had no clue. You’d expected the life of a superhero to be a bit more eventful than the many, many meetings they attended. 

Ava’d explained it was mainly because of their past as mercenaries and current connection to Val that they had to have a lot of meetings about the legality of things. Every step they took had to be approved until they could be trusted enough to make their own decisions. 

Speaking of trusting someone enough to make their own decisions.

“Can we go to the store later?” It’d been about an hour or 2 since Bob last spoke. His voice startled you out of your focus. He quickly apologized for scaring you. 

“Hey, hey, no worries. I was just really focussed. What do you want to go to the store for? And not that I don’t wanna come, but can’t you go alone?” You wondered. 

“I mean, I can, I think. I’m pretty sure Yelena would prefer it if I stayed inside at all times wrapped up in bubble wrap. I don’t really need anything, I’ve just read about every book to be found in this place. Need some new material,” Bob chuckled. 

“How about this, I’m almost done with this assignment. Let’s go to a bookstore and we can go get some lunch after, yeah?” 

Bob beamed at the suggestion, clearly done with being cooped up inside at all times. He put the book he finished back on the shelf and walked into the hallway, presumably to go get his things. You typed a few more words into your document before saving it and closing your laptop. 

You grabbed your bag off the floor and took out only a few essentials. No need to bring the entire thing if you were just going for lunch. 

Bob was taking a little longer than expected, so you went to check in on him. You went to knock, but the door to his room was open. Just as you were about to ask if he was ready to go, he tugged the loose shirt he was wearing over his head to change it for another. 

Holy shit. Bob is ripped. 

You felt heat rush to your face as you quickly backed away from the door. Sure, Bob was cute, you weren’t blind. He had the whole soft broken boy thing going on. You never would’ve guessed he was built like a brick house under all those baggy sweaters. Sweet lord. 

“Hey, you ready?” Speak of the devil. Incredibly toned devil. Very good looking devil. 

“YEAH, I’m– Let’s go,” you walked towards the elevator before you could embarrass yourself any further. If your flushed complexion was even noticeable, Bob didn’t mention it. You had the instinct to fan your face, but resisted. You also resisted looking at Bob’s abdomen, now covered by yet another baggy shirt. 

How hadn’t you noticed? His arms were quite toned, as well. He didn’t wear short sleeves very often in the week you’d known him. God, you had to get past this, mentally, or your job was suddenly going to be a lot harder. Like his hard abs. STOP THAT.

Wait, can Bob read minds? He better not. Bob? Bob? BOB? BOB!? BOB!! Alright, safe… For now. 

“You alright?” Bob asked when you’d reached the bottom floor. He was waiting for you to get out of the elevator. You quickly got out and followed him past the reconstruction of the entryway.  Bob had looked up a few bookstores in the area. You let him lead the way, even when you’d probably been in New York longer than he had. 

You reached the first bookstore, a dusty secondhand one, after about 10 minutes of walking in silence. It wasn’t awkward, even if you’d expected it to be. Bob liked the silence, even when it was also one of his biggest enemies in life. The city made it so it was never actually quiet, though. 

A small bell rang as you entered the store. Bob held the door for you, like a true gentleman. 

“Anything specific you’re looking for?” You whispered as Bob bent his neck to read the spines. You browsed a little for yourself, as well, letting him take his time. 

“Not particularly, no. Just anything that piques my interest. I like fiction, though,” he mumbled the last part as he took a book off the shelf. 

“I thought you might be a fiction guy,” you smiled. In a different timeline where life hadn’t severely fucked him over, he was probably a big nerd. He was really smart, smarter than he let on. 

“Really? What gives it away?” Bob chuckled, thumbing a few spines, looking for a specific title by the same author. 

“Hmm, your general vibes, maybe? You just seem like the kind of guy who wants to escape reality every now and then.” You picked a book off the shelf you’d been meaning to read. College took up most of your time, you didn’t even remember the last time you’d actually sat down to read a book.

“That’s true, I guess. I like exploring new worlds, especially when worldbuilding is good,” Bob let you know. He’d put a few of the books he grabbed back, but held onto one you assumed he intended on buying. 

He was slowly opening up, something you were glad for. He was a lot more confident in himself when he was more comfortable, you noticed. 

Bob finished browsing and went to the register, taking your book out of your hands to pay for both. It was then he realized he had brought no means to pay besides a few stray dollars in the pockets of his pants. 

You chuckled and playfully rolled your eyes. You paid for the books and the clerk put them in a bag, handing them to you. You gave the bag to Bob. “If I’m gonna be paying, the least you can do is carry them. They’re mostly yours, anyway.” 

“I’ll pay you back. You’re not supposed to be spending money. If anything you’re supposed to be making it right now.” Bob promised. 

You told him there was no need. It wasn’t an expensive store, and the pay you received for pretty much just being his friend more than covered the costs. 

“Coffee?” You asked after you’d hit another bookstore. Bob agreed. Neither of you’d found anything at the last store. The books were mainly about business and finance, not the most interesting. 

You were about to pull up your phone to search for a café when Bob spotted the cutest little one just across the street, ‘Little Paris.’ 

Bob held the door for you once again. He would have to stop being all chivalrous if you wanted any chance of escaping today emotionally unscathed. 

You were led to a small booth in the back and got your menus. Bob seemingly had a hard time choosing between the many pastry and lunch options. In the end he settled for a stack of crėpes with chocolate sauce and an espresso. 

“They balance each other out,” he tried to convince you, to no avail. 

“If I’d known you had such a sweet tooth I’d have been trying to win you over with all the candy over the last week,” you laughed. 

The waitress came and took your orders, taking back the menus and leaving you with Bob once again. 

“You wouldn’t need candy to win me over, you’re sweet enough,” Bob said. Your eyebrows raised as far as they would go, 

“Robert Reynolds, was that a pickup line?” Your jaw hung open in mock offense. 

“Wh- No, that’s not what I meant! I meant you’ve been very nice, ‘s all…” 

“Damn, here I thought you were hitting on me. Might’ve made this a lunch date.” 

Bob flushed visibly, and you knew to take the teasing down a notch. Whether he was blushing because he had accidentally hit on you or because of the implication you’d go on a date with him, you weren’t sure.

Your drinks arrived just in time to break the awkward tension. You made Bob do a haul of the books he’d bought while you waited for your food to be served. They were mainly fantasy books, but there were a few self-help ones. 

“To be honest, I don’t really think you can get the kind of help I need from books, but it might be a good start to at least read up on it, I suppose,” Bob explained. 

“Somehow I don’t think those books cover superpowers,” you chimed in. Bob chuckled and agreed. 

Your food arrived, and you’d never seen a grown man so delighted to see a plate of sweet gooeyness. 

“Y’know–” Bob spoke in between bites. “Ever since I got these powers I’ve been crazy hungry. Bucky says it’s because your body burns so much more so your metabolism goes up, but sometimes I feel like an empty pit.” 

You pointed to the corner of his mouth, where a little chocolate sauce had escaped. He quickly wiped it with a napkin before continuing his ravaging. 

“It makes sense. Muscles… Assuming you have… Those… Uh, require energy, so…,” you chimed in, not really giving it much more thought. Mentally, you smacked your head against the wall. Physically, you just took another sip of your drink. 

“I mean, I’m not sure I’d be sitting here if I had zero muscles at all, so… You’re probably right,” Bob took a big gulp of the espresso, wincing at the bitter aftertaste. 

“You should eat until you feel full, though. We have plenty of time,” you smiled. You were nowhere near as far with your plate as Bob was with his, which was pretty much gone. 

“Hmm, we’ll still be here by midnight, then. I’m sure they’d wanna close before that. I’m not a monster, these people deserve to go home at some point,” the statement was followed by his last bite. 

“At some point, yes, but in the meantime, feel free to order more food.” 

“Oh, I will. I don’t even remember what you’re having, but it looks really good,” Bob stared at your plate as he sipped his coffee. “You want some?” You offered, raising your fork with a bite on it. 

“I mean, I– I’ll order my own,” Bob smiled awkwardly. 

“You can still have a taste, if you want,” you dangled the fork in front of his face tauntingly. 

Bob caught your wrist and snatched the fork out of your hand, putting the bite in his mouth. Your jaw dropped in shock, not expecting him to do that. His grip on your wrist had been stronger than he’d likely intended for it to be, but it had stung a little. It might bruise, but you didn’t care. Not if he was having a good time. 

“Oh yeah, I’m definitely ordering this,” Bob nodded as he swallowed the bite. The waitress came over at the exact right moment, allowing him to order another plate. 

You ordered another drink, even when yours hadn’t been entirely empty yet, just so Bob wouldn’t feel weird about ordering more. 

When Bob was finally satiated you called the waitress for the bill. Bob blanched, once again remembering he was relying on you for money right now. “At least let me get the tip,” he offered, putting whatever bills were left in his pocket on the table. You let him. 

When you finally made your way back to the tower it was later than you’d scheduled. You got up to the penthouse and saw Yelena and Ava sitting on the couch, watching some shitty reality show. 

Bob put his new books on the shelves and handed you the one you’d picked out for yourself. You thanked him and put it in your bag, taking the opportunity to gather your stuff. 

“I have to go, but I’ll be back tomorrow?” It was a question directed at both Yelena and Bob. You never knew what their schedule was like. Yelena nodded as she munched on some chips. “I’ll be here until like 2, so if you can come by before that, that’d be great!” 

Before you got on the elevator your name rang from Bob’s lips. You turned back to look at him as you waited for the doors to open. “Thank you, for today I mean.” It was accompanied by a warm smile. 

You returned the same warm smile. “Anytime.”

TAGLIST: @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @hopes-peak-akademy @rattheraddestrat @i-shall-abide @puer-aurea @kennywantskfc69 @spectacled-studies @hiddlebatchedloki @chimchoom @spidermiraculous-blog @s00ty-feet @28cnn @tinythebunni @softpia @roeroeroeyourboet @secretkittydreamland @cultish-corner

[ricky-mortis]

“You’re a caveman. And I’ve invented fire.”

Close-ups under the cut :)

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

-

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )

[all-my-ocs-are-evil]

They're so them coded.

(click for better quality)

[the-dragon-invasion-is-near]

Marceline!!!!

this is a bday gift for a friend, i think it's gonna be a sticker i just have to find somewhere nice to print it

i'm very proud of how it turned out!!!!!

[astrolavas]

it's sound weird, but i have headcanon that Hunter didn't go hexside, because he too old to shool(according to my feelings, at the end of the he is 16-17 y.o (except for the post-credits scene), and at that age it is already too late to go to school):p

i mean, well- in my opinion he rather certainly did go to hexside, since one of the things he'd said during his TTT monologue was "i'd like to attend hexside like a normal student and play flyer derby with my friends" and all of his "wishes" were supposed to sort of foreshadow his goals and his future (carving palismen, studying wild magic, etc etc) so i feel like it's safe to say he succeeded in becoming a hexside student as well. we also know he attended grom with the rest of his friend group, and like- since he's 16 before the timeskip (no canon certainty whether he's recently turned 16 or is going on 17 already though, but like... around 16 canonically) that means he'd get at least 1 year of school, but most likely 2+.

my personal headcanon is that he went to hexside for around 2 years (full or not quite, depending on when the school year starts in the boiling isles and how long it lasts; possibly even 3), and during that time he picked up a mentorship/apprenticeship at del's palisman carving shop, and after he graduated from hexside he started carving palismen professionally with the clawthornes (i like to think that he also takes some courses at eda's wild magic university in his spare time, simply cuz . funny uni hexsquad shenanigans)

[thedrotter]

Re:Kinder Fun Facts of the day☺️!!! Have you ever wondered who talks the most from the main cast in Re:Kinder?? Well, I did😊. Today I'll be answering this question with some graphs and as a bonus telling you what words each character uses the most! I will warn you, this will be a bit long and I don't know how to be less verbose so, yeah!!!

First, I've made some basic rules as to what I counted regarding how much the characters speak. Not all lines really count as speaking, after all.

Any of the incoherent screaming lines don't count. There's a lot of screaming since the characters die a lot (as expected for a horror RPG game), but I don't really count that as speaking unless they're saying proper words. In that same vein, I didn't really count any of the panting or sniffing and such that are conveyed through words. Again, I don't really see that as a character actively speaking their thoughts!

If I cannot tell who a line belongs to, I will not give it to anyone. This happens for certain lines, so I felt this rule was important.

I won't be counting repetitions of the same line if it's on a variation of the same scene. This may sound a bit strange, but when a character dies, the game goes on to the same next scene it would regardless (unless the scene that follows it is an ending), with variations and new lines here and there to account for the dead character, but a lot will be reused and placed in the exact same beats it normally would have been in originally. So, this rule is here for that. Oh, and also the scenes with bits of Yuuichi's backstory that appear in Shunsuke's head won't be counted twice, because some appear twice line by line.

Of course, the "..." lines won't count. I am so sorry Aya!!!!😞

Now that the ground rules have been set, there's just one thing I want to mention. Though I will count all the total lines for Takumi and Yuuichi like any other character, I just want to mention that first I will have two separate counts for them! Takumi | Takumiel and Yuuichi | Yuuichi's Heart respectively.

Takumiel is separate because I was curious about how much Takumi spoke as an archangel compared to when he was alive. Yuuichi's Heart is because he speaks so much he feels notable enough to be given his own division, even if he and Yuuichi at the end of the day are one person

(I count the silly mind telepathy where Shunsuke is being directly spoken to [and being told things normal Yuu would avoid saying at that point] and the comical theater as Yuuichi's Heart. I clarify in case one assumes he only starts being counted the moment he's directly labelled as Yuuichi's Heart. Any line that can't be distinguished between Yuuichi's Heart and Yuuichi will be given to Yuuichi by default.)

With nothing else to be clarified let's get to the numbers!!!😊😊

First, the line counts with Takumiel and Yuuichi's Heart counted individually!! Here are the rankings:

Shunsuke (With a lead of 535 lines over second place!!)

Yuuichi

Rei

Yuuichi's Heart

Hiroto

Ryou

Sayaka

Aya

Takumi

Takumiel

You may be thinking— woah, does Shunsuke really speak that much?! You could say that, for a good chunk of those lines are from how he describes interactable points around the map and his inner thoughts, so they aren't all exactly said out loud. The benefit of being the protagonist, I suppose ww

Funny enough, Yuuichi's Heart has almost as many lines as Yuuichi does for not having that much time in the game, being on the higher end between the characters that don't get the benefit of being a protagonist (lol)!

Admittedly I had expected for Rei and Hiroto to have a more similar amount of lines given their nearly equal amount of presence, but for what it is Rei surpassed Hiroto by 51 lines! I also had expected for Takumiel to speak a little bit more than Takumi but turns out the opposite is true.

While the lack of lines of Takumi and Takumiel are to be expected due to their short time on the game, what stands out is Aya not even reaching triple digits between her other peers who are in there for most of the game. This is because a good chunk of Aya's lines in game are silence!^^" And thus weren't counted. If ellipses were a word, she surely would have reached triple digits, but unfortunately they're not.

Now the line count with combined sums of Takumi | Takumiel and Yuuichi | Yuuichi's Heart!!!

In here, the ranking isn't affected, with Yuuichi remaining second place and Takumi being last place. But the disparity of everyone's numbers compared to Takumi's feels a bit more clear to see when Takumiel isn't individually counted.

With Yuuichi's line counts combined, Shunsuke remains 318 lines ahead of him, but it also means Yuuichi has a 59% the amount of Shunsuke's lines; and impressive feat for someone who doesn't get the benefit of being the point of view for everything you press... Although he does also have an upper hand over everyone by essentially being the plot of this game ww

But maybe line counts do not suffice to tell how much a character speaks. Yes, Shunsuke has a bunch of lines from everything he interacts with, but is it really reliable to say he speaks all that much in all those lines? A good chunk of those could easily have 3 words each! So with this in mind, let's do a word count.

Even in a word count, Shunsuke has the lead, having a lead of 2,247 words over second place. But we'll see about that when we combine Yuuichi's numbers. Anyway, here's the ranking!

Shunsuke

Yuuichi's Heart

Yuuichi

Rei

Hiroto

Ryou

Sayaka

Aya

Takumi

Takumiel

This time, Yuuichi's Heart is the one at second place!!! It's pretty funny that he speaks more than his physical counterpart ww. I genuinely didnt think he'd out yap himself that way when I chose to count for him individually 😭!!! He has a lead of 63 words over himself, but a lead nonetheless.

In here, Rei and Hiroto are more even than in the line counts, with the difference seeming more minimal when put into words. But it also showcases that despite Rei having more lines than Yuuichi's Heart in the line count, those only get to have a bit over half of the amount of words he talks (To be fair he does get to infodump a lot in his section of the game).

And here's the combined word count!!! Suddenly Shunsuke's lead is only by a mere 55 words! So Yuuichi speaks about as much as he does with 318 less lines.

I must admit that I genuinely did not expect it to be that close. When I chose to count the lines for when you interact with things for Shunsuke, I thought he was granted to speak an absurd amount more than anyone else. But turns out that Yuuichi speaks about the same amount out loud when most of Shunsuke's are his own thoughts ww. But it does make sense! He is still the plot of this game.

So, after all those charts, here's the average/middle point of lines and words for characters to have, because why not, it's fun.

Average Line Count (YH and Takumiel counted individually): 197 lines

Average Line Count (When combined): 247 lines

Average Word Count (YH and Takumiel counted individually): 1,333 words

Average Word Count (When combined): 1,666 words

So there it is. That's how much the characters in Re:Kinder speak!

But wait!!! I am not done. I will share with you an additional fun fact... Did you ever want to know what word each of these characters said the most?! This one will be quicker, I do promise.

When it came to counting these words I did not count stop words, that being common words that are used all the time by everyone in English. "I, you, me, the, to, a, my, your, yes, no"... Words like that! Otherwise everyone would have one of those as their most said word and it'd be rather boring to look at. With that said, here are the words these characters say the most!

Shunsuke: Yuuichi - said 40 times! (this genuinely confused me so much im sorry he uses interjections so much I had expected it to be something like "huh" or "um" but no i dont know how this passed by me as i was rounding up all the lines he says or proofreading or writing all of those lines WHAT?!?! its been two days and it still takes me out)

Ryou: Shunsuke - Said 14 times

Sayaka: Murderer - Said 7 times (All in one sentence!)

Takumi | Takumiel (counted in one for how little he speaks.): Takumiel - Said 3 times (That name is so important, he said it thrice.)

Aya: Sorry - Said 5 times

Rei: Hell, gonna, look, Yuuchi - said 8 times (Most of the repeated words she says are stop words for she doesn't tend to speak about the same things repeatedly.)

Hiroto: Shunsuke - Said 17 times

Yuuichi (separate from YH): Problem - Said 17 times

Yuuichi's Heart: Mama - Said 24 times

Yuuichi (Overall): Mama - Said 31 times

So that is finally it. That is the fun fact of today.😊😊 Use this to woe your friends at parties!!!

I am aware Mami speaks about enough to be counted in, but this is pretty time consuming to do and I'm not sure anyone is invested on her enough to count her in. But if there's enough curiosity regarding that, I'll try counting her in. But for now this suffices.☺️ Thanks for reading!

[bepenikki]

whatever man

[joeytime]

noooooooooo Williams how could you?

[rawbin-hsr]

The previous anon articulated it so well bc I just saw what they're talking about and I'm honestly confused why they thought u were saying anything wrong like 😭😭 are we sure we have the same guy here? Aventurine while yes knows what being loved feels like, he's gone through enough things and changes in life that that little frame of reference won't serve him well, especially within a romantic context bc he doesn't have ANY reference.

I read what you wrote as him not really meaning to (even reread) and yeah, he wouldn't Purposely want to be abusive to his romantic partner, but it still borders on it. What a lot of ppl get wrong is that, emotional abuse doesn't have to always mean the perpetrator is fully aware of it themself.

Maybe bc I myself have bpd, but it's so easy to see. When someone's avoiding negative feelings they have about themself (jealousy, insecurity etc) they can easily externalize this blame (and for him, that's so much more likely, it's literally a defense mechanism) or even, projecting his own view of himself on how you view him only to end up upset. (And then, the random clinginess that comes after this pushing away, why would it happen if not for trying to convince you to stay even though what he keeps doing is generally not a good thing to do in a relationship?) He wouldn't have known healthy attachment, didn't grow up with a safety net to be comfortable with that, hell, he thinks people closest to him (in canon) are sort of "tolerating" him. Are we really surprised?

Like, you never said aventurine is doing it with intent or even awareness bc yea he isn't!! He'd realize some of his actions sure, but stuff like "pushing you away" is probably shit he genuinely considers good for you, and it's not even like completely wrong he's in a high and risky position. Doesn't mean it wouldn't hurt like a mf, and I think that's the biggest tragedy of it all, because he doesn't fully realize how bad his actions are from another pov, and it's not like a single Convo can get him to understand that.

Anyway, sorry that was a lot more incoherent than I thought and I was firmly stating a lot of things bc I can pull up stuff to back my claim but ALSO bc they pissed me off if u don't like something just scroll I've been doing that for years on this app I never felt the need to go yell at someone bc I don't agree with how they interpret a character 😒😒😒😒 I hope ur feeling better, rsd sucks ass I always get so overwhelmed whenever I experience it but ur intent came across very clearly actually dw

I’m literally in tears I’m so grateful multiple people are taking the time to reassure me thank you so much 🥹🥹🥹 I was really doubting myself and my own take on him, it makes me feel so relieved I’m not the only one who has this specific take on him haha I was lowkey worrying I was a terrible person for a moment there 😭

And yes, exactly !!!! I think you were very coherent in this, in fact I think you formulated what I meant to say better than I did 😭😭 Like there’s a lot, a LOT of nuance to it !!! He never does it out of malice. He just doesn’t know any better. He tries to do what’s right and what’s best for you, he’s just… kind of not good at that because his whole perspective is skewed.

I do still think they were right that I shouldn’t have used the word ‘abuse’. It’s a very loaded term, and I think abuse requires a power dynamic, which is something I think he would try to eliminate in a relationship. Like, yes, he is a powerful man and he sort of needs some leverage to stay in control (of both his own life and his relationship with you), but I think he fucking hates the idea of being “above you” in any way. (Though to be fair he still could unintentionally create an uneven power dynamic — he’s the one mostly in charge of when the two of you interact. I think he loathes himself even more when he realises that.) I think it would be best to stick to the word “toxic” because it feels most fitting from my pov

[orcelito]

Oh yeah yesterday I went to my C programming professor's office hours to ask about what's being covered in class tomorrow. Since I can't go bc of my PT appointment overlapping with it & I'm apparently the kind of student that cares about attending every single class now.

While I was there, I ended up chatting with him about a few things, including my current standing in the class. He asked what I got on the midterm exam, & I answered it was an 87, and he told me I was one of the top 5 or 6 scores in the Whole Class (this being a like. Maybe 70 or so person class). Top score was a 92 or 93 (idr lol) & the class average was a 72. Apparently there were a few of us in the upper 80s/lower 90s, but most people got 70s or lower. And once he does the curve on the exam, he said I'd probably end up with a 97 or so on the exam. So yay!!!

And then he told me how he's noticed how I come to class every day and am really active with taking notes and answering questions. Bc I also sit up front all the time lmao. Hadn't even realized how much of a damned teacher's pet I've been being, but I've been Trying to be a good student this year. But he said I was the type of student that if I got an 88% or smth in the class, he'd likely bump me up to a 90% so I'd get an A lol. But he also said so long as I keep up with how I have been, I could possibly get a 100% in the class by the end (bc I've been there for all the extra credit questions in class and whatever).

And just. I went there bc I wanted to make sure I didn't miss anything important in class on Wednesday, and I ended up having my ego stroked for Real. Felt good to have my efforts be recognized.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I'm so heavily anti-advertising that all pitches sound goofy silly to me/I can never take them seriously, so I have no idea how I'll manage to to advertise my game even if I do finally finish it soon-ish lol...

[dayurno]

[seventh-district]

.

[brionysea]

i didn't expect ekko and jinx's relationship to be what stays so strongly in my mind after watching arcane but here we are. it just goes to show how incredibly impactful THAT SCENE is