#when you see cave paintings of a woman and you know she was loved.

[deoidesign]

how did u learn to paint?? like i just cant wrap my head around it

<3 I love answering asks like this!

You will have to bare with me, I don't save many of my studies, and my files aren't that organized so I don't have as many images as I would like.

The studies I've found most helpful for myself personally with painting are various master studies. (This is also, as always, alongside study of fundamentals.) And always follow a study with self-critique (and, if you can get it, outside critique!)

"Master" in this sense means anyone who you want to learn something from.

One way you can do this is by copying an artist's work directly. This is to try and understand some of their stylistic techniques. Leyendecker, Andrew Loomis, and John Singer Sargent are personal favorites of mine! I try to keep these quick, I'm not trying to get an exact copy.

I also get a lot out of copying photos. In this case, I'm not trying to glean some technique, rather, I'm trying to interpret the photo and explore my own stylizations.

(photo credit mountain men of alaska )

I also really enjoy taking a painting or piece that already exists, and making it "mine" by putting my characters in it haha, which is sort of a combination of master studies and photo studies!

(William Bruce Ellis - Covent Garden (1930)) (Barberini Faun)

And then, in my work that's not a study at all, I'm informed by all of these!

What master studies do is help me refine my style and practice my technique, but also I'm communicating with artists of the past through my art! They're teaching me! And I have so much to learn.

And of course... most importantly... I paint.

a lot.

I don't do as much study anymore, not because I feel I've learned all I need to, but because for work I draw 50+ drawings a week. 'Drawing for work' and 'study' occupy the same space in my brain and I need some fun drawing time!

So to sum up, draw a lot, reference constantly, and copy the people you want to draw more like!

(and, of course, when doing a study off of someone else's work, always give them credit. If it's your photos there's no need.)

[rookiesbookies]

The boys catch their ladies reading smut, originally this had the books I was basing this on in them but I hadn't got the time to read the books so I remove the book titles and authors. I hope you enjoy <3

Price: Yeah, she’s younger than him. This book is like 100% just breeding kinks. So she was reading this book about a man breeding his young woman and being super obsessive and clinging… while sitting in their living room… with her fuzzy, super obsessive, newlywed husband. “What are ya readin love?” He said, swiftly snatching the book from her grasp as he sat down on the couch next to her. He kicked his feet up on the couch and laid so his back was against her shins under the blanket she was bundled in. “Nothing important! But you really should give it back!” She panicked, reaching for it. “Holy bloody Jesus, love. This is a casual read for you?” “... yeah.” He wiggled his eyebrows while looking up to see her. She put a hand in his face and took her book back. “You almost made me lose my page.”

Soap: Being bent over and defiled by a hot Scotsman in a kilt? Oh hell yeah. How could you refuse?

“Jesus, Bonnie, why are ye readin about this shit when ya could get the real thing with me?” He chuckled, flipping through the book she had poorly hidden in her nightstand. “My kilt is in the closet, give me less than 10 minutes to get me socks and straps on and I’ll rock yer world harder than some words on a page ever could. You’ll see, donnae worry.”

He did indeed rock your world harder than pages ever good.

You claim and cry that you want to finish it for the plot, he says you can only read “that filth” when he’s away on deployment.

Says its a waste if you have a real heavy, hairy, and thick Scotsman at your disposal on the daily.

Ghost: Reading a story about a man whose face was painted like death and has charm that causes hormonal riots? Sounds exactly like her Simon. She lay on their shared bed as he packed up for their walk to the park. Her legs kicked up in the air as she read. 

He raised an eyebrow at what could have her so giddy so he effortlessly snatched the book and was met with a nasty surprise when he looked over the words. “Take it you’d rather stay home than go to the park,” he mumbled with a smirk before bending down to kneel in front of her now with a red face. 

“No- no I think a walk in the park will be fine.” She nervously chuckled.

Konig: Hot giant caveman dragging a woman away to have his way with her? Basic Konig when he comes back from missions.

Grabbing his sweet girl and pulling her into the dark cave that is their bedroom, only letting either out once he’s had his way with her and showing her just how much he’s missed her.

His face was red flushed as he read over her shoulder though.

“Oh meine gut, Schatz."

The scream she let out even made him fall back.

“Don’t scare me like that!”

He pressed a kiss to her temple in apology. 

“This book made me horny, can we fuck?” She asked straight up, knowing Konig preferred her blunt. She didn’t need to ask him twice.

Gaz Hot british guy? Her standards were so low for her choices in literature as long as it was someone she could imagine her Kyle as. Hmmm easy.

So when she was leading her walk with her audio book in her headphones she was more than busy. When he got a hold of one of her airpods while at the gym and she forgot he had the other one, he looked over at her with wide eyes. He texted her, “I didn’t realize you were interested in being folded like that.”

[reidmarieprentiss]

No More Misunderstandings

Summary: You have a big crush on Spencer, everyone can see it except for Spencer himself.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Tech Analyst fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: crushing, (un)requited feelings, bad communication, Spencer trying to flirt, gay Elle, Rossi not Gideon, happy ending, Elle is out but reader doesn't know

Word count: 9.4k

a/n: if this man ever asked me to hang out i would say yes in two seconds flat

main masterlist

Every day, you settled into the hum of computers and the soft glow of monitors that painted the walls of the BAU's technical analysis hub, affectionately dubbed the "bat cave" by those who knew it best. Your role as a tech analyst found you working side-by-side with the brilliant and bubbly Penelope Garcia, a woman whose personality was as colorful as her wardrobe. Despite the comfort of being shrouded in the semi-darkness of your tech-laden sanctuary, a certain type of light seemed to elude you—the spark of acknowledgment in Dr. Spencer Reid's deep, thoughtful eyes.

You harbored a crush so palpable that even the air in the room felt charged with your nervous energy whenever Spencer was near. However, your shy demeanor cloaked these feelings in a veil of secrecy that somehow, miraculously, Spencer himself never managed to pierce through. Everyone else on the team had noticed, from the knowing smiles of Derek Morgan to the gentle teasing of JJ, but Spencer remained blissfully unaware, his attention often drifting towards Elle Greenaway with an intensity that tugged painfully at your heart.

Penelope, ever the observant friend, never missed a beat. "Oh, honey," she would whisper, "it’s like you’re sending Morse code with those blushes and he’s living in a blackout."

Her words were gentle, tinged with humor and affection, yet each jest felt like a pinprick to your already tender sensibilities. Whenever Spencer visited the bat cave to discuss case details or gather information, your heart raced as you tried to provide him with everything he needed without tripping over your words or, heaven forbid, your own feet.

"Hey, Spencer," you would start, your voice a careful mixture of professionalism and the warmth you couldn’t keep at bay.

"Hello," he would respond, his eyes scanning the screens filled with data. His focus was razor-sharp, dissecting information with the same precision he used on everything but the emotional currents swirling around him.

Each interaction was a dance. You would inch towards openness, leaning in to catch a whiff of his cologne or to appreciate the subtle shift of his hair when he ran his fingers through it in concentration. But as soon as he glanced up, those hazel eyes like windows to an enigmatic soul, you would recoil slightly, cheeks aflame, words retreating as quickly as they had dared to emerge.

Later, as the screen showed live feeds of the team moving through their environments, Penelope would nudge you gently with her elbow, her voice low and teasing. "You know, if we had a dollar for every time you fumbled around that man, we could retire and buy an island in the Bahamas."

You’d offer a small, embarrassed laugh, grateful for the low lighting hiding the worst of your blush. "I just... I don’t know how to act around him, Penelope. What if he doesn’t..."

"Feel the same?" she'd finish for you, her tone softening. "Sweetie, the heart’s a funny creature. It doesn’t play by the rules of logic that Spencer loves so much. But who knows? Maybe one day, he’ll surprise you and actually look up from those case files and see what’s right in front of him."

The comfort in her voice was soothing, yet each day ended the same—with you watching Spencer, Spencer watching Elle, and Penelope watching over you, a guardian angel clad in technicolor, armed with an arsenal of jokes and just the right words to keep you smiling through the uncertainty.

—

The day had been rolling along as usual in the BAU's bat cave, the rhythmic clicking of keyboards providing a steady backdrop to the glow of computer screens. Penelope had excused herself for a quick bathroom break, leaving you alone amidst the towers of technology. Just as the door clicked shut behind her, the shrill ring of the phone sliced through the quiet, startling you slightly. Calls from the field were usually Penelope’s domain, her cheerful voice a soothing constant for the team. Today, it seemed, you would have to step into her shoes.

“Y/N speaking, what can I do for you?” Your voice wavered slightly, anxiety bubbling up as you prepared for your usual toggle through databases and security feeds.

When Spencer’s voice responded from the other end, a different kind of alertness prickled across your skin. “Hi, Y/N, we need to cross-reference known associates of the unsub with recent flight records. Can you pull up the lists and cross-check for any matches?”

Your heart thumped erratically, his voice weaving through the receiver like a familiar song that never failed to stir your soul. You tried to maintain a steady tone, hoping your voice didn’t betray the sudden nervousness that his presence, even just over the phone, incited. “Sure, Spencer, just a moment.”

As your fingers danced across the keyboard, the professional mask you wore each day slid comfortably into place. You were adept at your job, a fact that never faltered, even under the weight of your emotions. Quickly pulling up the necessary records, you began the process of cross-referencing, your mind briefly detached from the flutter in your stomach.

“Looks like there’s a match. Michael Davidson, on a flight from Atlanta to D.C. this morning,” you reported, a trace of pride threading through your words at the efficiency with which you’d located the information.

“Great, Y/N. Thanks,” Spencer’s voice came through, a hint of relief palpable even through the static of the connection. His appreciation, simple and straightforward, filled you with a warmth that went beyond professional satisfaction.

Hanging up, you let out a breath you’d been holding. Penelope chose that moment to breeze back into the room, her presence as effervescent as ever. Catching the tail end of your smile, she quirked an eyebrow playfully.

“Spill the beans, buttercup. You look like someone just handed you a golden ticket,” she teased, settling back into her chair.

“It was just Spencer needing some quick info,” you shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant as your heart continued to beat a staccato rhythm against your ribs.

Penelope’s smile widened, her eyes twinkling with unspoken understanding. “Oh, just Spencer, huh?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, trying to brush it off casually. “Derek would never betray you by talking to me,” you teased, hoping to steer the conversation away from your flustered feelings.

Penelope’s eyes sparkled even more as she winked at you. “Oh, he’s allowed to have side pieces, my love. I’m a generous goddess.”

You burst out laughing, your nervousness momentarily forgotten as Penelope’s playful banter eased your tension. “I’ll let him know you said that,” you shot back, turning back to your screen, trying to focus on anything other than the residual warmth from talking to Spencer.

Penelope, never one to let you off the hook easily, leaned in closer. “Should I let Spencer know he isn’t allowed to have any side pieces then?” she asked, winking at you again, her tone as sweet as honey but with a hint of mischief.

“Penelope!” you gasped, feeling your face flush all over again. The blush you thought had faded returned with a vengeance as you turned away, hoping she wouldn’t see just how red you were.

She laughed, clearly pleased with herself. “I’m just saying, babe. The boy’s got options, but I think we both know his best one is sitting right here.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands as you let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“Just doing my part to make sure he doesn’t miss any signals,” Penelope sang, tapping her keyboard lightly, her grin as wide as ever. You couldn't help but smile too, secretly grateful for her teasing. After all, it was these moments that made the crush a little more bearable.

—

During one of Rossi’s famed pasta-making sessions, a relaxed atmosphere filled his spacious kitchen, with the rich aroma of tomato sauce simmering on the stove and the sounds of laughter mingling with soft Italian music playing in the background. Rossi, the consummate host, guided everyone through the steps of making the perfect pasta dough, his hands moving with the ease of long practice.

You found yourself stationed next to Spencer, who was diligently kneading a mound of fresh pasta dough. His hands, beautiful and dexterous, worked the dough with a precision that was mesmerizing. The veins on his hands stood out, accentuating every deliberate movement, and you couldn’t help but be captivated by the fluidity of his motions. It wasn’t just his intellect that drew you in; even his seemingly mundane physical actions had a way of catching your undivided attention.

Derek and JJ, who were partnered up on the other side of the kitchen island, caught your fixed gaze and shared an amused look between them. Derek’s smirk grew as he nudged JJ, whispering loud enough for you to overhear, “Looks like someone’s more interested in the handwork than the handiwork.”

JJ chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she joined in the teasing. “Yeah, I think Y/N’s planning on writing a thesis on the manual dexterity of certain geniuses.”

Flustered, you tore your eyes away from Spencer’s hands, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. You attempted to focus back on your own portion of dough, which had begun to stick to the counter more than it should. Spencer, oblivious to the exchange, looked up and noticed your struggle.

“Hey, you need to dust a bit more flour on the surface,” he said, his voice gentle, unaware of the reason behind your distraction. He reached over to sprinkle some flour on your dough and then on the countertop, his fingers briefly brushing against yours. The brief contact sent a pleasant jolt through you, further flustering you.

Rossi, ever the observant host, noticed the playful dynamic and decided to rescue you from your embarrassment. “Alright, everyone, let’s focus on the art of pasta! Y/N, why don’t you help me with the sauce?” he suggested, giving you a knowing smile as he handed you a wooden spoon.

As you helped Rossi stir the simmering sauce, carefully blending the herbs into the rich, aromatic mixture, you couldn’t help but cast furtive glances across the kitchen. There, Hotch had taken up the spot you vacated next to Spencer, now deeply engaged in the art of pasta making under Rossi’s enthusiastic instruction. While Hotch was methodically following Rossi’s guidance, Spencer’s attention occasionally drifted.

Across from them, Elle was rolling out her dough with a confident flourish, laughing at something Hotch had said. You caught Spencer's eyes as they met Elle's, a shared glance of amusement passing effortlessly between them. The ease of their silent communication was stark, their smiles syncing in a moment of private jest that seemed to exclude the world around them—including you.

That simple, silent exchange felt like a punch to the gut. The laughter and camaraderie around you suddenly seemed a bit dimmer, a bit more distant. It wasn’t just jealousy that twisted in your stomach—it was the aching realization of how much could be said in a single look when there was a real connection; a connection you feared might never form between Spencer and yourself.

You turned your attention back to the sauce, the spoon moving mechanically in your hand as Rossi continued to chat about the nuances of Italian cooking. He didn’t seem to notice your distraction, caught up in his culinary passion. But inside, your thoughts were swirling as tumultuously as the sauce you stirred.

Trying to shake off the sinking feeling, you focused on the positives—the laughter of your team, the comforting weight of the wooden spoon in your hand, the delicious smell that filled the kitchen. But despite the festive atmosphere, a part of you remained reserved, quietly nursing the tender hope that maybe, just maybe, one day Spencer would look at you with the same warmth and understanding he so effortlessly shared with Elle. Until then, you resolved to keep smiling, keep stirring, and keep hoping.

—

The BAU briefing room felt unusually empty without Penelope's vibrant presence, Elle's keen insights, and Derek's charismatic confidence filling the space. With them on vacation, the dynamic had shifted, and you found yourself stepping into roles that stretched beyond your usual behind-the-scenes expertise. The weight of Penelope's responsibilities now rested squarely on your shoulders, a challenge you accepted with both determination and a hint of trepidation.

As the team gathered for the briefing on the new case, Hotch turned to you. "Y/N, could you walk us through the case description and the current leads?" His voice was calm, authoritative, yet imbued with a supportive undertone that did little to ease the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

Nodding, you stood, remote in hand, feeling every pair of eyes in the room settle on you. Public speaking was not your greatest fear, but it was hardly your favorite endeavor—especially not with Spencer's intense gaze locked on you. It was as if his eyes were a pair of spotlights, illuminating not just your words but every minute reaction and emotion that flickered across your face.

As you began to outline the case, detailing the patterns and possible psychological motivations of the unsub, Spencer's scrutiny never wavered. His stare was not judgmental nor dismissive; rather, it was analytical, perhaps even a bit curious, as if he were trying to read the nuances of your presentation, to understand not just the facts but the person delivering them.

"Based on the geographical profiling and the behavioral pattern, we believe the unsub may be operating within a ten-mile radius of downtown," you explained, pointing to the map projected behind you. Your voice steadied as you delved deeper into the analysis, the familiar terrain of data and evidence providing a solid foundation beneath your initially shaky confidence.

Spencer's focus, rather than rattling you further, began to foster a sense of resolve within you. You found yourself speaking more confidently, your nerves tempered by the realization that this was still your team—your family in all but blood. They weren't here to judge; they were here to listen and to learn from what you had to offer.

As the briefing wrapped up, Hotch nodded in approval. "Good work, Y/N. Keep us posted on any updates from Garcia's systems until she returns."

You nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. Glad it was over, you were already preparing to scamper back to your office when you heard a voice that sent a familiar shiver down your spine.

“Y/N?” Spencer's voice, calm yet inquisitive, caught your attention.

You spun around to face him, trying not to let your fluster show. “What’s up?”

“Can you put the map back up on the screen, please?” he asked, already standing by the large projection screen.

“Ye–yeah, of course.” Your fingers fumbled with the remote as you quickly reactivated the display, bringing the map back onto the screen.

“Here,” Spencer said, still not looking back at you. “Come look at this.”

You walked over to stand beside him, your eyes inadvertently drawn to his long fingers as they traced paths along the map, pointing out specific areas. The same hands that had mesmerized you earlier were now gliding over the screen, drawing you into his thought process.

Spencer started talking about the geographical profile, rattling off information with his typical rapid-fire brilliance. But what took you by surprise was how he spoke to you—not as the team’s tech analyst, but as if you were another profiler, someone he wanted to consult. This was new, and it left you momentarily stunned. He’d never done this before.

“Spencer?” you asked quietly, your voice barely audible in the spacious room. He hummed in response, still focused on the map as he tugged thoughtfully at his bottom lip—a gesture you’d come to adore and envy.

“Why are you asking me about this?” you continued, your curiosity growing along with your nerves. “Why not Rossi? Or Hotch?”

Spencer paused, finally turning to face you, his eyes filled with the same focused intensity he usually reserved for solving cases. “Because you see things differently,” he said softly. “You have a different perspective, and that’s valuable. Sometimes it’s not just about profiling. It’s about how we approach the data, and you… you understand patterns in a way that’s unique.”

His words caught you off guard, but they filled you with an unexpected warmth. You weren’t just the tech analyst who plugged in the data—they saw you, Spencer saw you, as part of the team, as someone with valuable insights.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you held his gaze for a moment longer than you intended. “Thanks, Spencer,” you whispered, trying to suppress the blush creeping up your neck.

He smiled, a small but genuine curve of his lips, before turning back to the map. “Now, what do you think about this area here?” he asked, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for you two to be collaborating like this.

For once, you weren’t just lost in thoughts of him—you were part of the conversation, and it felt good.

After you felt you'd helped all you could, you excused yourself back to your office, ready to sink back into the more solitary part of your work. However, Spencer seemed to have other plans, as he walked alongside you, his footsteps synchronized with yours, indicating he wasn't quite done talking. His expression was one of mild concern, a usual precursor to his deep dives into various subjects.

As you walked, he continued to unravel his thoughts about the case, tying loose ends and circling back to previous points with a precision that was nothing short of impressive. It was typical of Spencer to thoroughly dissect each aspect of a case, often taking tangential routes in the conversation that surprisingly led right back to the main topic, a testament to his prodigious mind.

However, as engrossed as he was in discussing the case, his next words veered sharply from the professional to the personal, catching you completely off guard and momentarily stalling your mental gears. The shift was so sudden that it took a moment for you to register what he was actually asking, pulling you out of your case-focused mindset and into a more introspective space. This unexpected question not only showed his human side but also reminded you of the depth of his observational skills, not just in work but in personal matters as well.

"How is Felix, by the way?" Spencer asked, an innocently curious tilt to his head as he regarded you, his pace slowing slightly.

"What?" The name jolted you, an echo from a past chapter of your life you hadn’t opened in ages, and certainly not one you had expected Spencer to know anything about. You blinked, momentarily confused, trying to piece together the leap in conversation.

"Felix? How are they?" Spencer repeated, his interest seemingly piqued by your reaction—or perhaps just his natural inclination toward thorough understanding.

You paused, standing now in the doorway of your office, the background hum of computer servers providing a soft soundtrack to this unexpected moment. "Um, I don't know," you admitted, still trying to navigate the strange turn the conversation had taken.

"Oh, I’m so sorry, did you two separate?" Spencer’s tone was filled with genuine apology, his face reflecting concern.

You managed a small, somewhat awkward laugh, finding both the absurdity and the sudden intimacy of the conversation slightly overwhelming. "Well, yes. A long while ago." Your response came out lighter than you felt, the surprise of the question making your heart race for reasons other than your usual nervousness around Spencer.

As Spencer absorbed your response, his expression remained unreadable, a common trait when he was deep in thought or processing information. He nodded, perhaps filing away the conversation for later reflection, before excusing himself with a polite but somewhat distant farewell. His departure was quick, efficient, the way he typically transitioned back to work, yet it left a trail of questions in its wake.

You watched him go, a blend of relief and curiosity mingling in your thoughts. The inquiry into your personal life was uncharacteristic of Spencer, who usually maintained a strict boundary between professional and personal discussions, at least when it came to initiating such topics himself. The interaction lingered in your mind, an outlier in the usual pattern of your interactions.

"Maybe it's because Elle isn't here," you thought silently, turning back to your computer.

After leaving your office, Spencer quickly texted Elle to update her that you were no longer seeing Felix, contrary to their assumption. Elle replied enthusiastically with two thumbs up, urging him to ask you out soon or she would take the opportunity herself. 

—

Throughout the week, with Penelope, Elle, and Derek away, the dynamic at the BAU shifted noticeably. Spencer seemed to step out of his usual reserved demeanor, engaging more frequently, particularly with you. His attempts at conversation often appeared to teeter on the edge of something beyond mere professional interest, though it was so subtle that it often flew under your radar.

Tuesday morning, Spencer leaned against the counter, watching you struggle with the temperamental coffee machine that had decided today was the day to revolt. "You know, statistically, manual coffee presses have a lower failure rate compared to electric ones," he commented, a slight quirk to his lips.

You glanced at him, chuckling lightly, "Is that so? Maybe I should switch, then."

"Yeah, and they make better coffee. Maybe I could show you how to use one sometime?" His tone was casual, but there was a tentative note to it, almost hopeful.

As the coffee machine finally sputtered to life, producing a somewhat decent cup of coffee, Spencer’s offer lingered in the air, subtly altering the atmosphere between you. His suggestion about the manual coffee press had been light, almost playful, but it carried an undercurrent of personal interest that left you unexpectedly flustered. Despite this, you masked your reaction with a casual nod, trying to maintain an even keel.

"Sure, I could always use better coffee," you responded, your voice steady despite the slight quickening of your heartbeat. You focused on fixing your coffee, adding just the right amount of cream and sugar, using the mundane task as a moment to collect your thoughts.

Spencer watched you for a moment, perhaps sensing the shift in your demeanor but respecting the boundary you subtly enforced with your nonchalant reply. His smile was gentle, not pushing further, as he too turned his attention back to preparing his own drink.

Wednesday at lunch you sat in the break room flipping through case files, Spencer slid into the seat across from you with his own lunch—a homemade sandwich seemingly crafted with meticulous care. "I read somewhere that sharing meals can enhance group bonding and individual rapport," he began, looking directly at you with an earnest expression.

You looked up, smiling at the factoid, you loved hearing Spencer talk. He was always so endearing. "That sounds about right. Food does bring people together."

"Maybe we could test that theory. There's a new Thai place nearby that’s supposed to be great," he suggested, his voice smooth but slightly hurried.

"That would be an interesting experiment," you agreed, your thoughts inadvertently glossing over Spencer's subtle personal invitation. Instead, your mind wandered to the social dynamics of the team, or perhaps more pointedly, the possibility of Spencer going out with Elle without having to extend a direct invitation—an idea that stoked a twinge of jealousy, burning in your stomach like an ugly green monster. 

Spencer nodded, his expression shifting subtly as he detected the undercurrent of your thoughts, interpreting them as disinterest in a personal outing. He tried to mask any hint of disappointment, maintaining his typical composed demeanor. Internally, however, he wrestled with the sting of what felt like another missed connection, another attempt at reaching out quietly rebuffed.

"It would be a great way to explore some new flavors... maybe just the two of us first, to see if it’s worth recommending to the team?" His tone was measured, carefully modulating between casual and sincere, revealing his hope that this might pave the way to a more personal connection between the two of you.

Despite his clear wording, your mind twisted his intentions, clouded by the assumption that his ultimate aim was to impress Elle upon her return. This idea gnawed at you, the thought of being potentially used as a stepping stone in Spencer’s strategy to engage Elle more personally. It tainted the sincerity you might have otherwise perceived in his proposal.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good plan," you responded, trying to mask your feelings with a nod and a polite smile. "Testing it out sounds sensible... then we can tell Elle and the rest if it's good." Your voice carried a hint of forced cheerfulness as you inadvertently redirected the focus back to Elle, reinforcing your misinterpretation of Spencer's motives.

Spencer noticed the subtle shift in your tone, the slight stiffness in your smile. He paused, a flicker of confusion crossing his features as he tried to gauge whether his message had been misunderstood. "Yes, of course," he agreed, his voice faltering slightly as he picked up on your emphasis on Elle. Disappointment edged into his heart, sensing a barrier he hadn't anticipated—one that perhaps wasn't his to cross just yet.

He nodded slowly, offering a gentle smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'll send you the details later then," Spencer added, stepping back to give you space, his mind busy piecing together where the conversation had veered off track.

Thursday while you were digging through old case files in the archives, Spencer wandered in, ostensibly looking for a book. He lingered by your side, helping to shift the heavy tomes. "You know, there's this book on cognitive science I think you'd really like. It talks about pattern recognition and emotional intelligence in ways I think you'd find fascinating," he offered, his fingers brushing against yours as he handed you a different file.

"Sounds intriguing," you responded, your attention still partially on the file in your hands. The hint of a smile played at the corners of your mouth, touched by the realization that Spencer was not only paying attention to your interests but was actively thinking about ways to engage with you on a more personal level.

"I could lend it to you. We could discuss it over coffee?" Spencer's suggestion came with a hopeful undertone, as gentle and tentative as the expression in his eyes.

Your reaction, however, was immediate and unexpected—a sudden choke on your spit as his words caught you off guard. A brief fit of coughing ensued, and Spencer's concern was quick to surface. He reached out instinctively, placing a comforting hand on your back with a gentle touch. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with worry.

The unexpected contact made you jolt, a reflexive response to the sudden intimacy of his touch. Realizing your reaction, Spencer quickly withdrew his hand, a flash of disappointment crossing his features as he stepped back, giving you space.

"Yeah, I'm fine, sorry," you managed to laugh it off, though your cheeks burned with embarrassment. You tried to smooth over the moment, still recovering from the unexpected cough and the even more unexpected contact.

Spencer's response was gentle, a soft nod accompanying his words. "It's okay, I'll, uh, see you upstairs," he said, stepping back with a hesitant smile. His decision to not press the coffee invitation further reflected his respect for your comfort, but inwardly, he felt he might have missed his opportunity for the day.

As he turned to leave, the brief contact and your embarrassed reaction replayed in his mind, leaving him wondering about the right approach to take next time. His intentions had been straightforward, but the execution hadn't gone as smoothly as he hoped. The way your eyes had widened, the laughter that followed the cough—it all suggested a mix of emotions that he couldn't quite decipher.

Watching him walk away, you felt a pang of regret. His retreat made you realize that your reaction might have been misinterpreted as discomfort, rather than the surprise and nervous excitement you actually felt. The idea of discussing a book over coffee with Spencer genuinely appealed to you, and you wished you could convey that without the awkwardness of the moment overshadowing it.

Gathering your thoughts, you considered reaching out to him later to clarify your interest, maybe even suggest a specific day for that coffee. The day hadn't gone as either of you planned, but it wasn't over yet, and perhaps there was still a chance to turn it around.

Friday afternoon as you both waited for the elevator, Spencer tried again, this time a bit more directly. "Did you know that the probability of meeting someone compatible is surprisingly high within work environments?"

You raised an eyebrow, trying to steady the rapid thumping of your heart. "Really now? I guess we’re in the right place, then."

"Yes, exactly," Spencer agreed, a bit more eagerly than you expected. "It’s like... finding the right piece in a puzzle."

"Like solving a case?" you asked, your voice shrinking with uncertainty, afraid that, once again, he had someone else in mind—someone who fit into his world effortlessly, maybe a profiler like Elle.

"Yeah," he smiled warmly, his eyes soft as they focused on you. "Just like solving a case."

Your heart cracked a little at his words. You interpreted the metaphor differently, convinced he was searching for someone like the other brilliant profilers on the team—someone you believed you could never be. With a forced smile, you said quietly, "Well, looks like you need a profiler-shaped puzzle piece then."

Spencer’s brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing his face as you stepped into the elevator. He stood there, frozen, not understanding the weight behind your words or why you seemed so distant.

As the elevator doors slid shut, he replayed the conversation in his mind, his heart sinking as he realized something wasn’t connecting. He had been trying to tell you, in his own way, that he was interested in you, that you were the piece he was talking about. But somehow, despite his best efforts, the message kept slipping through your fingers. Why weren’t you getting it? Why did every attempt seem to fall short?

Spencer watched the elevator descend, a sinking feeling settling in his chest. He had been so certain of his feelings for you, and yet, with every attempt, it felt like they drifted further away, lost in the unspoken misunderstandings between you.

—

When the freshly bronzed trio returned from their vacation, Spencer, seemingly on edge, wasted no time in seeking out Elle, his face etched with a mix of hope and frustration.

“So? Did you do it?” Elle asked eagerly as soon as they were within speaking distance, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Did she say yes?”

Spencer’s response was laden with disappointment. “Every time I try to ask her out, she thinks it’s a friendly suggestion, or—or she even mentioned you one time like I was thinking about you!” He ran his hand through his hair in exasperation, clearly puzzled by the recurring miscommunication.

Elle couldn’t help but laugh slightly, though her lips were closed, trying to mask her amusement at the situation. Spencer, on the other hand, whined in annoyance, “What?” He genuinely didn’t understand what he was missing.

With a fond smile, Elle prodded further, “Reid, how did you ask? And what did she say?” Her voice was gentle, coaxing him to unpack the details.

Spencer recapped all the moments from the past week—the coffee machine incident, the lunch invitation, the casual chat in the archives, and the awkward elevator conversation. Each retelling showcased his subtle, cerebral approach to what he thought were clear invitations.

“Oh, boy genius,” Elle said teasingly once he finished, her tone light but her words cutting to the heart of the issue. “I think I see the problem here.”

“What? What is it?” Spencer asked, desperation and confusion in his voice.

Elle placed her hand on his arm, a gesture meant to be comforting but one that did not escape your notice, intensifying the ache in your heart. “She thinks you’re interested in me!” Elle revealed, her insight sharp.

“Why would she think that?” Spencer asked, his bewilderment evident. The connection between his actions and your perception seemed utterly foreign to him.

Elle’s explanation was straightforward, “Because, Spencer, every time you make an attempt, it’s so subtle and wrapped in layers of intellect that it’s easy for her to miss the romantic intent.”

Her words seemed to pierce through the fog of confusion surrounding Spencer. The realization that his attempts at expressing romantic interest were getting lost in translation—or rather, lost in his own intellectual approach—was a revelation. He nodded slowly, the gears turning as he processed this new insight.

“Plus, if she’s mentioning me and no one else, she must think you’re looking for ways to take me out!” Elle added, emphasizing her point with a light chuckle, though her eyes remained sympathetic to Spencer’s plight.

The weight of Elle’s explanation settled heavily on Spencer. It dawned on him how his interactions, though well-intentioned, might appear to others, especially to you. His style, inherently analytical and often indirect, had inadvertently sent the wrong signals, steering your thoughts towards a narrative where he was interested in Elle rather than clarifying his feelings for you.

This misunderstanding struck a chord within him. Spencer had always prided himself on his communication skills when it came to the nuances of unsubs and case theories. Yet, here he was, stumped by personal emotions and interpersonal communications that veered off course.

“Okay, so... I’ve been too subtle,” Spencer acknowledged, almost to himself as much as to Elle. “And she’s misreading the subtlety as disinterest—or worse, interest directed at someone else.”

Elle nodded, squeezing his arm gently. “Exactly, Spencer. You’re thinking like a profiler trying to decipher hidden meanings, but sometimes, directness is key. Maybe it’s time to just tell her how you feel, plainly and clearly. No puzzles, no hints.”

“But—but what if she’s not interested?” Spencer stammered, the creeping sense of insecurity wrapping around him like a heavy blanket. His confidence from earlier was starting to erode. “I mean, she did turn me down on multiple occasions,” he added, his voice softening with self-doubt.

Elle sent him a playful glare, her expression one of disbelief. “Be serious, Reid,” she said, her tone firm but affectionate. “Everyone here can see that she’s into you. Ask anyone.”

Without giving Spencer a chance to stop her, Elle raised her voice, calling across the room, “Hey, JJ!”

Spencer's eyes widened in panic, his face flushing. “Elle! No!” His voice cracked as he tried to stop her, but it was too late.

JJ approached the two of them, a curious smile on her face as she looked between Spencer and Elle. “What’s up, you guys?” she asked, her easy going demeanor not yet aware of the situation she was about to walk into.

“Do you think Y/N is into anyone? Should we set her up?” Elle asked with a mischievous smirk, clearly enjoying Spencer’s discomfort.

JJ’s reaction was immediate—she burst into laughter, glancing between Elle and the now-mortified Spencer. “Are you kidding?!” she laughed, unable to believe the question was even being asked.

“No! Do you have anyone in mind?” Elle pushed, her smirk widening as she kept the act going.

Spencer looked like he wanted to sink into the floor, his mortification plain as he stood there frozen. His mind raced, desperate to find a way to steer the conversation away from himself. But JJ, still chuckling, fixed her gaze directly on Spencer, her expression turning to amused confusion.

“Spencer? Duh! She’s basically in love with you!” JJ declared, her blunt response leaving no room for misunderstanding.

Spencer blinked in disbelief, his mind stumbling over the directness of JJ's words. "W-What?" he stammered, his heart pounding in his chest.

JJ just shook her head, laughing softly. “Reid, it's so obvious. Trust me, you should ask her out.”

"Right," Spencer exhaled heavily, the weight of his nerves tangible in that single word. His eyes followed JJ as she walked away, her knowing smile and shake of her head a clear sign that she was rooting for him.

Elle, observing the entire interaction, turned back to Spencer with a look of determination. “Do you believe me now? You just need to be blunt,” she said firmly, reinforcing the advice with her unwavering gaze. Her stance was one of staunch support, wanting to push Spencer past his habitual overthinking.

Spencer nodded, feeling a bit more fortified by the support of his colleagues. Elle’s insistence on being blunt was exactly the nudge he needed. It was clear that subtlety had not served him well in this arena, and it was time for a change in strategy.

—

Throughout the week, Spencer made several more attempts to ask you out, each time with a bit more directness than the last, but somehow the message never quite landed. Each time deepening his frustration and your oblivious disappointment.

Spencer joined you at the coffee machine again, a site of many a casual encounter but today, he was armed with determination. "I was thinking," he began, carefully measuring his words, "that maybe you and I could try that new café downtown this Saturday."

You smiled, stirring your coffee absentmindedly, your mind on a deadline you were close to missing. "That sounds like a great break from work. It’ll be good to get the team out and about. Should I send an email to everyone?"

Spencer’s heart sank a little. "Uh, well, I meant more like a... never mind. Yes, let’s get everyone involved," he conceded, hiding his disappointment.

In the midst of discussing a particularly complex case, Spencer tried to weave in a personal invitation as naturally as he could. "And after we wrap this up, maybe you’d like to join me for dinner? I know a place that’s quiet, great for discussing... cases."

You nodded, focused intensely on the case details. "Oh yeah! I already told Pen I’d grab dinner with her after the case, do you want to join us?"

Spencer’s heart sank just a bit as he adjusted his glasses, a gesture that had become a telltale sign of his internal resignation. His intention of a quiet dinner, meant to create a private space for you and him, vanished with your invitation to Penelope. Still, he managed a smile, not wanting his disappointment to show.

“Sure, that sounds great,” Spencer replied, trying to keep his tone light and cheerful. Inside, however, he was strategizing his next move, wondering how he could ever convey his feelings without the constant backdrop of the team.

As the day progressed, his mind kept circling back to the conversation. He appreciated your inclusiveness—always making sure no one felt left out, a trait he admired deeply. Yet, he couldn’t help but wish for a moment where it could just be the two of you, away from the dynamics and distractions of the team.

As you both walked to the parking lot after a long day, Spencer decided to be as clear as he could. "I enjoy spending time with you," he said earnestly. "I was hoping we could maybe go out this weekend, just you and me. What do you think?"

You paused, turning to face him with a puzzled smile, unaware of the mounting frustration behind his calm demeanor. "Sure. What do you want to do? I heard of a nightclub that's supposed to have a disco on Saturdays, we could see if everyone is interested?”

Spencer’s patience, worn thin from repeated attempts, finally faltered. “That doesn’t really sound like my scene,” he replied, a note of desperation creeping into his voice as he motioned between the two of you. “Could we go somewhere more subdued? Just us?”

The simplicity of his request, paired with the intensity of his gesture, made you pause. "You want to hang out? With just me?" you asked, a hint of confusion lacing your words.

“Yes!” Spencer exclaimed, his voice echoing a bit louder than he intended in the quiet space between conversations around you. His hands were in the air, a gesture of his exasperation and earnestness. Realizing how his reaction might have seemed, he quickly lowered his hands and softened his tone. “I mean, yes, I would like to spend time with you. Just us. Maybe somewhere quiet where we can talk. Just... talk.”

Your heart was beating so fast you could barely contain it, “Just the two of us?” 

The realization struck you fully now, the words "just the two of us" hanging in the air, tinged with possibility. Spencer nodded, his eyes earnest and hopeful, watching for your reaction.

"Yes, just the two of us," he confirmed, his voice steadier now, filled with a quiet intensity. His gaze never wavered from yours, as if trying to convey all the sincerity he felt directly into your heart.

Your heart raced with the understanding of what he was asking, the implications of this simple request suddenly reshaping the narrative you had constructed in your mind about his feelings. The thought that Spencer, with his brilliant mind and shy demeanor, wanted to spend time alone with you, not for a case discussion or team outing but for something personal, sent a thrill of excitement mixed with nervous anticipation through you.

"Yeah, Spencer," you grinned, your heart still racing but excitement slowly overtaking your nerves. "That sounds nice. Um, I'm free Saturday."

"Saturday works for me," Spencer nodded, his own smile broadening with quiet confidence. "I'll call you?"

You nodded quickly, almost too eagerly, but you didn’t care. "Yeah, mhm, that sounds perfect."

For a moment, you both stood there, a shared anticipation buzzing in the air between you, neither wanting to break the connection just yet. When Spencer finally turned to leave, you found yourself smiling uncontrollably, the prospect of Saturday lingering in your mind, a warmth spreading through you that hadn't been there before.

—

Your excitement about the upcoming date with Spencer bubbled within you, yet you chose to keep it close to your chest. The thrill of it all felt so fragile, like a dream you didn’t want to jinx by sharing too soon with the rest of the team. This cautious optimism marked your days, turning ordinary moments into a series of hopeful glances at the calendar as Saturday approached.

Meanwhile, Spencer found himself seeking counsel from Elle, who was all too eager to lend her expertise, not just on potential date activities but on the more intimate aspects of dating as well, particularly women. Knowing Spencer’s limited experience—his only kiss having been with Lila Archer during a particularly intense case—Elle took it upon herself to offer some advice.

“Okay, Spencer, listen,” Elle began, her tone both serious and sisterly. “If the moment feels right and you think you want to kiss her, make sure you read her signals. It’s all about mutual understanding and respect, right?”

Spencer nodded, absorbing every word. Elle continued, “Make eye contact, see how she responds. If she seems receptive, maybe lean in halfway and let her meet you the rest of the way. It’s a two-way street.”

“Halfway,” Spencer repeated, mentally noting the advice. Elle’s directness and her willingness to discuss these details without any embarrassment provided him with a strange comfort.

“And, Reid, just be yourself. You’re a great guy. Let that show,” Elle added, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

Spencer felt nerves and gratitude at Elle’s advice, it was straightforward and practical, and helped ground him. He trusted her judgment, appreciating her sharing of her personal experience, especially when it came to navigating relationships—something he found infinitely more complex than the most puzzling cases.

—

The phone call on Saturday morning added to the bubbling excitement of the upcoming date. Spencer’s voice was clear and a tad nervous, which you found endearing. He promised a unique experience and asked you not to wear black, a request that piqued your curiosity and set your mind racing with possibilities. What kind of place would require such a specific dress code? The mystery only heightened your anticipation.

You quickly texted him your address, along with a playful note about your curiosity regarding the attire guidelines. Spencer replied with a simple smiley face, keeping the details of the date under wraps, which intrigued you even more.

As you prepared for the evening, you chose an outfit that was comfortable yet charming, avoiding black as instructed. The time leading up to Spencer’s arrival seemed to crawl by, each minute stretching longer than the last. You found yourself glancing at your reflection, adjusting your hair, and double-checking everything, ensuring you were ready when he arrived.

Finally, the sound of a car pulling up snapped you out of your reverie. Glancing out the window, you saw Spencer stepping out of his car, looking around with a nervous excitement that matched your own. 

As you stepped outside, your nerves fluttered slightly, but your smile was genuine when you saw Spencer waiting by his car. Waving shyly, you greeted him, "Hi, Spencer."

Spencer looked up, his eyes lighting up as he took in your appearance. "Y/N, you look great," he breathed out, his compliment wrapped in a warm smile that seemed to ease some of the tension between you.

"Thanks, I like your cardigan," you replied, noting the soft, well-worn cardigan he wore that somehow made him look even more approachable and endearing.

His smile widened at the compliment, and he seemed to relax a bit more. "Thanks! It's an old favorite," he admitted, holding the car door open for you. 

As you both stepped into the cozy, softly-lit space filled with the gentle sounds of purring and the occasional meow, Spencer immediately began sharing interesting facts about cats. “Did you know that ancient Egyptians considered cats sacred and even had a goddess named Bastet who was depicted as a lioness?” he said, looking into your eyes as you walked past a playful tabby.

Your response was a mix of admiration and amusement. “I didn’t know you were an expert on ancient cultures too,” you teased, feeling comfort and excitement as Spencer chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the opportunity to share his knowledge.

While playing with a particularly friendly cat, Spencer used the opportunity to flirt in his unique way. He gently lifted the cat, holding it out towards you. “It’s interesting how animals can facilitate social interactions, isn’t it? For instance, it's been found that people are more likely to engage in conversations in the presence of animals. They act as social lubricants.”

You laughed, reaching out to pet the cat and feeling a bit flustered by his proximity and the way he looked at you when talking about social dynamics. “Is that your subtle way of telling me you needed a furry wingman for our date?”

Spencer grinned, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Maybe, but it seems to be working, doesn’t it?”

“I don't know, say lubricant again,” you teased. Spencer's grin widened at your playful challenge, and the atmosphere between you sparked with a shared humor that made the moment light and enjoyable. 

He leaned in slightly, adopting a mock-serious tone, "Lubricant," he repeated, emphasizing the word, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You laughed even harder, your eyes bright with amusement. "Hearing you say 'lubricant' is so funny!"

Spencer, caught up in your joy, couldn’t help but laugh along. “Why?” he asked, his own grin wide as your laughter proved infectious.

"It’s just... it can be a dirtier word," you giggled, trying to explain through your laughter. "And I can’t imagine our resident genius using the word lubricant!"

Spencer's laughter joined yours, ringing out genuinely as he caught the playful jab. The lightness of the moment brought a relaxed glow to his features. "I assure you, the application of the word was purely scientific," he teased back, still chuckling. 

The café around you seemed to buzz with the warmth of your shared amusement, creating an intimate bubble amidst the quiet hum of other patrons and the soft padding of cat paws. "I suppose," Spencer continued, his smile lingering, "I should be more careful with my vocabulary around you. You're giving me a whole new perspective on language."

Your laughter gradually subsided into a series of light chuckles, but your eyes were bright with delight. "I think I like this side of you, Spencer," you said, a playful sincerity in your voice. "It’s nice to see you in a different light, not just as the genius profiler but also someone who can joke around about...lubricants."

Spencer's eyes softened, clearly touched by your words. "I'm glad," he said softly, his voice carrying a note of appreciation. "It’s not often I get to show this side, and I’m happy to share it with you." 

As you observed the cats seemingly gravitate towards Spencer, who seemed both amused and delighted by their attention, an idea sparked in your mind. It was the perfect segue into a lighthearted flirtation, mixing your shared love for animals with a touch of mystical charm.

"You know, it’s said that animals, especially cats, have a keen sense of good and bad," you started, watching Spencer's reaction as a particularly fluffy cat chose his lap as its new throne. "They're often drawn to people with good auras. I guess they must sense something pretty great about you."

Spencer looked up, his expression a mix of surprise and pleasure at your comment. He laughed softly, a sound that warmed you to the core. "Is that so? Well, I must be on the right track then. Maybe they sense my excellent choice in company for this evening," he replied smoothly, his gaze locking with yours in a moment charged with a gentle intensity as a cat nuzzled its way into your lap as well.

Your heart fluttered slightly at his words, and you smiled, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "Oh, so we’re using cat behavior to gauge our decisions now?" you teased back, leaning in a little closer. "In that case, I think they’re on to something because I’m feeling pretty good about my choice too."

Spencer’s smile widened, and he reached over to gently nudge a playful kitten back onto the table, his actions thoughtful and tender. "I'll take that as a high compliment, coming from someone who clearly knows her way around cats and their mysterious ways," he said, his voice soft but filled with an underlying warmth that suggested he was as affected by the exchange as you were.

As the evening wound down, and the café began to prepare for closing, Spencer drove you home. The conversation flowed effortlessly, and you found yourself sharing little anecdotes from your childhood, while Spencer listened intently, always eager to learn more about you.

Before you knew it, you were standing in front of your home. The end of the evening had come too quickly, a sentiment you both silently acknowledged as you lingered at the doorstep, not quite ready to say goodbye.

"Y/N...I had a really nice time today," he said, his voice carrying a warmth that seemed to wrap the evening in a perfect close.

"Me too, Spencer, thank you for asking me. I was kind of shocked," you admitted, your words sincere and open. The evening had unfolded beautifully, but part of you had still been wrestling with the disbelief that it was all really happening.

"Really? Why?" Spencer's curiosity was piqued, his gaze intent on you, wanting to understand more.

You smiled shyly, a nervous habit kicking in as you rubbed behind your ear. "I just... liked you for so long, I never thought you were interested in me too," you confessed, the words tumbling out more easily than you'd expected. The truth had been a quiet companion for so long, and saying it aloud to Spencer felt both freeing and terrifying.

Spencer's expression softened even further, a gentle understanding coloring his features. "Y/N, I’ve been trying to ask you out for two weeks," he confessed. His chuckle was light, trying to ease the tension.

Spencer's revelation brought a mix of relief and amusement. "Really? I had no idea you were trying," you replied, a smile breaking across your face, reflecting both the surprise and joy of the moment.

He nodded, a bit of sheepishness showing through his usual composed demeanor. "Yes, it turns out I'm not as skilled in expressing personal interest as I am with criminal profiles," he admitted, his light laughter mingling with yours.

The air between you felt lighter, a shared understanding dawning that, despite the initial miscommunications, there was a genuine and mutual interest. "Well, I'm glad you kept trying," you said, your tone sincere. "And I'm sorry I didn't pick up on it sooner. I guess I was just scared to get my hopes up."

Spencer reached across the small space between you, his hand hesitating just a moment before gently taking yours. "No more missed signals, okay? Let's promise to be more straightforward with each other," he suggested, his gaze steady and reassuring.

You nodded, squeezing his hand in agreement, feeling a warmth spread through you at the contact. "It's a deal," you responded, your heart feeling both settled and exhilarated by the new promise laid between you.

“So... in honor of being straightforward…” Spencer began, his voice soft but steady, a shy smile playing on his lips. He stepped closer to you, his eyes searching yours, a quiet vulnerability in his gaze. Gently, he took both of your hands in his, his touch warm and reassuring. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart raced, the moment feeling both tender and surreal. The way he held your hands, the genuine care in his voice—it was everything you'd hoped for, wrapped in Spencer’s uniquely thoughtful way. You felt yourself nod before you even spoke, your breath catching slightly. “Yes,” you whispered, smiling softly, your eyes never leaving his.

Spencer’s smile deepened with relief and excitement. Slowly, he leaned in, his movements deliberate and gentle, giving you every moment to close the gap as well. When your lips finally met, it was soft, sweet, and full of the promise that had been building between you for so long. The world seemed to pause, leaving just the two of you in that quiet, intimate moment, finally aligned in your shared feelings.

When you pulled back, there was a brief silence before you both laughed lightly, the tension melting away completely. "That was… nice," Spencer said, his voice low, his smile radiating warmth. 

"Yeah, it really was," you agreed, still feeling the butterflies in your chest as you held onto his hands just a little tighter. 

“Oh, and for the record,” Spencer chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he took in your reaction, “I don’t like Elle—romantically, of course. She’s my best friend.”

Your face flushed with sudden embarrassment, realizing he'd caught on to your earlier assumptions. “Oh, I—well, uh...” you stammered, struggling to find the right words.

Spencer's smile remained soft and reassuring. “It’s okay, Y/N,” he said warmly, squeezing your hands gently. “Elle is super gay, not sure how you missed that, and... I really like you.”

His words, so genuine and direct, melted away the last bit of tension you’d been holding onto. You laughed lightly, the awkwardness dissolving into relief. “Well, that’s good to know,” you said with a grin, finally allowing yourself to fully relax into the moment.

Spencer's grin mirrored yours as he added, “I just wanted to clear that up. No more misunderstandings.” His gaze softened as he looked at you, the weight of unspoken feelings now out in the open. 

“No more misunderstandings,” you agreed, feeling the warmth of his words and the certainty that everything between you was finally where it should be.

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

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[zhvakinnn]

HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII, can I request a poly sbg x fem gyaru reader who gets bullied by Barron and his friends? (Angst but a very fluffy ending) :3

I'm not sure if you want this romantic or platonic so I'm gonna write it both

So you can read this in a platonic or romantic way

Btw sorry i was busy doing loads of commissions and I'm so happy theres so many requests don't worry i will do all you're request ^^

Characters: Tyler, Ben, Aiden, Taylor, Ashlyn, logan

Warnings: mention of sexual harassment, bullying, death threaten, suicide, self-harm

✨as always i don't know much English so if something is wrong correct me✨

You met them when you went to that scary mansion and became friends they love your style so much

Taylor loves doing you're nails and you love doing hers and sometimes you paint all of your nails tyler said he hate it but still wears it

Ashlyn and Tyler is the one defending you she doesn't like you getting picked on because of your style

Aiden well let's say your both dork and do nothing but do shitty things that annoyed you're friends

Ben loves playing guitar while you sang songs and sometimes you do band with them

Logan helps you and everyone study

They don't mind you're style they just know they love you and that's all that matters

But then one of Barron's friend kept bothering you telling you how small you're skirt is, how sexy you are and other uncomfortable stuff you didn't tell them because once you do they will start another riot

And they kept telling you that you should die already and the gang would be happy if you no longer exists

And your starting to feel insecure about your style so you started to change a big and that caught everyone's attention on you like you're still wearing a make-up but there's something different

Then Barron spread a fake rumor that your friends hates you aswell you didn't believe them at first then he showed you a video recorder hearing they're voice's talk shit

"i really hate that woman's make up i mean its to many makeup"

"yea and te way she dress psh pass"

But little did you know they were talking about that one woman who attacked Taylor

But yet you didn't know you started to avoid them and come less in the school

Whener your in the realm you didn't care if you did die In there but the only thing that comes to your mind is run away and never see them again

"what happened to her i cant find her anywhere..?" Tyler said with a bit of concern in his voice

"I'm starting to worry even in the realm we cant see her" Ashlyn said

They tried to knock on your door but everytime they went there you're parents shrug it off and say your just sick and you need more time to rest

There's no windows or doors that are unlocked no curtains were up your house seems a like a dark cave now

Then one time they knock again now really getting worried they were ready to confront your parents no matter what happens they wanted to see you but when they're about to knock they heard a loud screech

Ben heard it and broke down the door your as they went to your room they can see both of you're parents holding you while your dad was lifting you and your mom holding a phone calling an ambulance

When they saw you chills ran down they're spine

You were pale and purple and Taylor saw the rope in the ceiling and a chair knocked out

They were all in the waiting room your mother was walking back and forth while your father calm her down

They were all sitting there dumb founded they just saw you lifeless body on the floor

Aidens smile was never seen

Ben kept fidgeting non stop

Taylor and tyler were holding hands trying to comfort each other

Logan wouldn't stop the sweat in his hands

Ashlyn who couldn't sit still

They all love you they cared now...

Then everyones parents came to check on their children and they asked what happened to you

Ashlyn was so curious what you're mom was saying so she didn't care if her ears hurt she wanna know what the hell happened to you

"and then she said she was getting death threath and she started to get sexual harass by some guy and we don't know what happened they started not to eat and we noticed there are big scars on her wrist we tried confronting her but its just getting worst... And then this guy who I've heard Barron.. he beat up my daughter whom he was a guy-."

"BARRON?!" You're mothers mouth went shot when Ashlyn stand uo and looked at your mom

Her eyes were full anger and hatered

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

She explained what she heard from her mother

Aiden tried to calm Ben down but he couldn't sit still just like that all because of this because of Barron

Logan was flaming anger aswell he knew about how Barron's treats to him

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

( i don't wanna add a fighting scene here sorry)

They spend most of the days by your side they were still happy they were talking to each other joking around but they cant help get more worried about you

Not until they all fell asleep and you were awake and saw Aidens rubix cube you also noticed your parents on the couch you smiled slightly then looked at them down on the floor

Once aiden woke up he saw you playing

"look... I can finally do it..its hard work though" you said weekly

Aiden couldn't care less about the rubix he held you so tightly making the rubix cube fall which landed on Tyler's head

"ow! What.. what the heck Aiden!..." He whispered yelled when he stand up he saw you hugging aiden and when you looked at him with a slight smile he couldn't stop the tear drops

"please please never do that again"

Once they all woke up you said sorry to them but confusion started going in your head didn't they hate you you asked them why did they said those things

Taylor said they were talking about that asshole and not you

You cried in the verge of tears

"but please if you're getting bullied or something don't hold back to tell us please we don't want to see you or be like this alright?" Logan's smoothing voice said then you heard a loud sound coming from Ben he typed

"I'm angry but i love you"

You smiled as you were all now in the growing hugging

When you're parents woke up they panicked when they didn't see you anywhere but stopped when you're father noticed you were all in the floor

Bonus:

They found you're body in one of the bus in the graveyard and they protected it while you're still unconscious

And that's it sorry if i haven't done one of your request but i promise i will

Masterlist | about me | rules

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

it flows and it flows and it flows

cw. selfship-coded, f!reader (no specified anatomy), pre-canon, pre-relationship, childhood friend au, reader eats a defined devil fruit, love as sacrifice, denial of feelings + mutual pining, vulture culture mention

pairing. portgas d. ace x reader

synopsis. as a hydrophiliac, eating a devil fruit is a horrifying thought. as a pirate, eating a devil fruit is an incredibly dumb decision. you'll gladly embrace the horrors and stupidity to keep your loved ones safe.

notes. the way i planned on writing something else for my next childhood friend au installment but this decided it would be making a cameo first whoops. cover comes from monet's impression, sunrise (1872) it just reminds me of ace.

For its moniker of Faerie Faerie Fruit, it isn’t pretty to look at.

The name itself invokes the imagery of translucent wings, tinkling laughter and pixie dust at your fingertips. The fruit in your hands invokes anything but the aforementioned. No, this fruit seems more akin to invoking something out of your nightmares with its gray and pruny peel. All the more damning is the way the face of the fruit is caved in, like a woman in mourning.

According to the encyclopedia you’d skimmed through, once upon a time, this isn’t even the ugliest the Faerie Faerie Fruit can achieve. That has been allocated to the sickly green Goblin model. Knowing this does nothing to quell how unsettling the fruit in your hands is to look at. A fitting feeling for Model Banshee, the variant of the Faerie Faerie Fruit that had fallen in your hands on this most recent adventure across the Moss Isles.

“You should eat it!” Wallace insisted at dinner with a sharp-toothed grin, holding his keg of beer in your direction. “Then the Spades'll finally have a power holder besides the captain!”

Ace squinted at the good-natured fishman with an offended pout, leaning over as best as he could with Kotatsu on his lap. “So I’m not good enough now, Wallace?” The gray lynx mewed, disgruntled at the movement and Ace settled down. “It’s nice to know how you really feel!” In spite of his words, Ace’s lips were curled into a smile as he snickered. He blended perfectly against the Grand Line’s reddening sky, carmine and vermillion painted against the clouds.

“Won’t it be confusing to have two banshees on the ship though,” you asked with a half-smile in return, nodding in the direction of the strawberry blonde. At the mention of her name, the woman grinned at you impishly.

“Maybe you should sell it to me then,” the ginger nodded in satisfaction at the thought. “Then I really would be a banshee!”

“You want it?” You leaned over with intrigued.

As quickly as she brought it up, Banshee shot it down, “no offense to Ace, but if I’m gonna be a pirate,” she gestured beyond the borders of the Spadille, to the sea itself. “I want the security of knowing I won’t drown if I fall into the ocean.” A chorus of laughter followed as Ace whined that his eating the Flame Flame Fruit had only been an accident. A very unforeseen accident.

In one exchange, you were brought back to square one.

You sigh, unable to help a few chuckles. It’s only luck your time on Sixis Island didn’t result in you losing your ability to swim then when you unknowingly bit into the Flame Flame Fruit. Being the first to bite into it, only Ace received any abilities from it. As much as he hadn’t been prepared to eat the thing, however, you can admit it is an ability that suits him.

Ace is like a flame that draws in anyone lucky enough to notice its glow. You want more and more people to see it and relish the warmth of your friend as much as you do.

That doesn’t mean you want to necessarily join him in the ranks of being cursed to drown should you fall into a body of water. Eat, sell or toss it back into the depths for someone else to discover. Those are the only options for a person who finds a devil fruit.

“You shouldn’t eat it anyway,” Ace told you softly when the conversation moved on to a different topic. “You love swimming.”

You love water as easily as you breathe. It has been one of your best friends since your childhood on Dawn Island.

You remember jumping into crocodile infested rivers.

You can hear Luffy’s sniffles as he clung to you desperately. How Sabo sighed, “Can’t you become one with the water in a way that doesn’t look like you drowned?” How Ace, whose face donned more scowls than smiles at 10, rasped a fist against your head in agreement and ranting all the while.

You recall the cool of the returning tide as you looked for seashells on the beach. Then you’d take each one back to Dadan’s, resting them beside your growing collection of unconventional treasures of mummified paws, empty turtle shells and dissected owl pellets. Seashells and stones were the bones of the sea and earth respectively, your grandfather had told you once, so they belonged with your treasure trove as much as any of your other finds.

I wonder if Dadan’s tossed all that out by now, you wonder vaguely. Well if she does, I hope she doesn’t touch my eggs. Protect ‘em for me, Luffy. You remember the beaming haul of large anaconda eggs you’d painted over after Dadan cracked them open for breakfast. There had been four for each of you.

A yellow egg for Luffy, a red egg for Ace and blue for Sabo before you finally painted one over in your own favorite color. You think Sabo’s egg is the collective favorite of the members of your quartet that remain.

It’s only been 7 months or so since you left your life on Dawn Island but it feels like it has been years. Yet throughout it all, the ocean had been a steady companion.

You love it as an extension of your very being.

And yet…

Sloppily drawn eggs and raucous laughter filling the air when you should have been sleeping flood your mind. Your eyes rest on the creepy fruit resting in your hand once again. You don’t necessarily desire joining Ace and Luffy in the ranks of incurring the disdain of the sea, truly. But-

“Flameo, Hotman,” you say suddenly at the approaching heat and footsteps that announce Ace’s presence before his words can.

Ace grins as he rests his arms on the edge of the Spadille, “how’d you know it was me,” he asks unnecessarily, sea breeze running its invisible fingers through his wavy locks. Your eyes crinkle from how you smile at the sight. 

You nudge him carefully, fingers tightening slightly over the fruit in your hands, “I felt the furnace getting closer and closer.”

Ace snorts, signature grin on his face. It should feel stranger, seeing him smile so much when he tended to frown and furrow his brow constantly when you were children, but it doesn’t. Smiles suit Ace more than any other expression you’ve seen him have in the past. “What are you over here thinking about?” His eyes dart to the fruit in your hands. “Are you gonna throw it back?”

“It certainly crossed my mind,” you admit with a shrug. Maybe if you hadn’t stopped to think about the past, you would have. The fact you hesitated is more than enough of a sign that your heart hadn’t been into the idea. “I changed my mind, though.”

“What does it do anyway?” Ace poked the wrinkly face with a curious finger.

“Banshees are supposed to be some kind of faerie of death,” you think back to your base information you know about the beings the fruit derives its name. “When someone is gonna die soon, they scream and keen to let people know. But that’s about all that’s really known about ‘em. When you think about it, it kinda suits me, huh?” He hums thoughtfully, looking at the thing deeply and you continue on. “Remember when you gave me my first turtle shell?”

The freckled man’s face softens with a nostalgic smile, “Dadan said boys are supposed to give girls flowers not corpses.” You can hear the cranky woman’s voice even now, exasperated at how you excitedly twirled with the item in your hand. She never quite understood your interest in vulture culture but beside the odd complaint, she never discouraged it.

“I thought it was pretty cool,” you snicker in return. “But you probably should default to flowers whenever you find someone you like. I don’t know if they’d be as appreciative as me.” Whoever that person is, they’ll be lucky. You disregard the strange itch in your chest and thoughts of sky blue hair as Ace rolls his eyes with a chuckle. He may think the idea of someone loving him is ludicrous but he’s an idiot when it comes to such notions.

Portgas D. Ace is special and deserves to be loved in a special way. He will be, someday.

With a sigh, you turn so your back is facing the edge of the ship rather than your front. “Anyways,” you divert the topic back to the former. “I have to admit that it’s pretty useful, objectively thinking. There’s a lot of people out there who wanna avoid death like the plague.” Your heart clenches uncomfortably once more, albeit for a reason you can discern.

Ace nods at your words, “it’ll definitely go for a lot when we get to the next island. So try not to accidentally drop it now that you’ve decided you won’t be doing it intentionally.”

“Oh shut up,” you snort but not unkindly.

But he’s right, this would probably go for a shit ton, not that you know how many berries most devil fruit go for on the market. A devil fruit that grants its user the ability to sense death, however, certainly is above the average.

A smile missing a tooth comes to mind and you have to stop yourself from squeezing additional indents into the Faerie Faerie Fruit. The rough hands of your grandfather covering your own as he shows you how hook a worm follows.

Sabo and Grandpa are gone, there’s no bringing them back.

There are people you love who are still here though, your thumb brushes against the face of the fruit. Indented in anguish as it silently screams for the imminent loss of life. You glance at Ace who is content to stare out at the waves carrying the crew to its next destination. You feel yourself smiling again before you can stop yourself, wistful.

You love the water, it’s as easy as breathing. It’s been your best friend for as long as you could remember.

You remember listening with giddy awe to your grandfather recounting how taking you out the bath as a baby was nigh impossible unless the tub was empty first.

You can hear Makino’s panic as you groggily wake up, realizing you fell asleep in the midst of your floating. Your head hung sheepishly as she scolded you, voice uncharacteristically sharp about the dangers of falling asleep in the ocean. “Heaven forbid the sea king was around!”

You recall the shared panic of Luffy falling underneath a lake’s surface, you, Ace and Sabo diving after him in unison.

If you could become the ocean itself, you’d gladly do so and let your limbs dissolve into it and feel the pulse of every living creature residing within.

Another sigh slips from your lips as you look over your shoulder at the sunset-stained gem the Piece of Spadille sails across. I’m really going to miss being in it. You don’t necessarily want the curse eating a devil fruit will bring, but even if you can’t swim in it anymore you will find ways to still enjoy it.

With solidified determination, you bite into the ominous fruit resting in your hands without a second thought.

At your movement, Ace looks in your direction.

His eyes go from inquisitive to as wide as dinner plates in the span of seconds, calling out your name in frantic surprise. “What are you doing?!” Large, freckled hands reach for you and you side step him immediately before breaking into a run. “Spit it out!”

God this tastes awful, you nearly gag but you force yourself to swallow the piece anyway. Hearing heavy boots chasing after you, you bite into the wrinkled fruit once more. Just in case the first bite doesn’t take.

“Um, [First]?” You barely hear Deuce’s confused reaction. “Ace?”

“Can you stop Ace for me? Thanks!” You call back to the masked man.

“Stop her from being an idiot!” Ace shouts after you.

The Masked Deuce smartly decides being neutral is his only course of action. “You guys figure it out! We’ll, uh, we’ll be over here!”

You could squeal from how close he is but you manage to bite into the foul-tasting flesh a final time before warm arms wrap around your waist, preventing further escape. You swallow instinctively.

“[First]!” You pull against how he tries to grapple your possession from your hands. Try as you might, you aren’t able to get a fourth bite in. You squeeze your eyes shut, not that it does much but it does prevent you from seeing what is undoubtedly an Ace with a frown.

“Can’t spit out anything,” you cry before Ace can start that up once again. It is far too late for the man to do anything about your consuming the Faerie Faerie Fruit. “I already bit into the shit three times!”

“But why?!” Ace asks incredulously. 

“Because it’s useful! I’m not giving this sort of ability up!” You stop wriggling, knowing it is redundant when you’ve already done what you’ve set out to do. “I just,” you open your eyes, downcast. “I don’t want to lose anyone else I care about.”

If you were to ever sense Ace or Luffy’s deaths, it will break you. At least you know in those moments, you’ll be able to do something about it. There doesn’t have to be anymore Grandpas or Sabos, not for you. Not if you can stop it. You’ll gladly eat a dozen more Faerie Faerie Fruits if it gives you any ability to keep them safe.

There’s a pause then a groan of resignation as your feet touch the deck again. I guess there’s no point in eating anymore of this, you look at what remains of the fruit. You aren’t sure exactly how it will change you in ways beyond a newly acquired death ping. You resign yourself to eating the rest regardless.

The silence isn’t entirely uncomfortable but it isn’t comfortable either, it just is. There’s nothing else that can be done about your decision.

“You can’t ever take this back, you know,” his voice is soft.

“I know,” you murmur after the last of the devil fruit has been eaten. “I don’t need the ocean like that anyway.” You will find new ways to enjoy it. Finally you turn to look at the man who has been your closest friend since you were 10. You were practically family. Family, that’s right. Family looks out for each other. You are going to look out for Portgas D. Ace whether he likes it or not, you promised yourself this after you met Old Man Naguri.

Even as Ace looks at you with equal parts acceptance and sorrow on your behalf, you think the sacrifice is worth it. It’s bitter but the sweet in your chest outweighs it.

“That’s one more thing we have in common,” you try to lighten the mood. “Paramecia and Logia differences aside.”

Ace sighs but he gives you a snicker of courtesy, “I would have been fine with us not having this in common.”

“Eeeh, you’ll get over it.” I’ll get over it, you chuckle, turning back to face the horizon. The sun’s almost been swallowed entirely by the sea and there are more things dotting the sky than you remember there being a few minutes ago. Your eyes widen at the ghastly image of whales swimming through the skies as if unaware their time has passed many moons ago.

Whales, stingrays, sharks and unidentifiable fish as far as you can see.

A silent procession across the Grand Line only for your newly acquired eyes. It almost makes you want to cry.

“Is everything alright,” Ace draws you back in, eyebrows knit in concern.

You wonder if Grandpa and Sabo’s ghosts are gallivanting about Dawn Island.

“Yeah.”

[shebeafancyflapjack]

Dad Robin owns my heart.

Dad Robin being present every time a woman in the tribe goes into labour, not knowing for certain if the kid is his or not (most likely is) but is there regardless and giddy with excitement.

Dad Robin hunting the fluffiest animals so he has lots of pelts to wrap his babies up in and carry them around as the tribe moves.

Dad Robin treating his sons and daughters the same because they haven't invented gender roles yet and he loves them equally. If daughter wants to wield spear then he teaches her, if boy wants to craft furs into clothes that also cool.

Dad Robin being the opposite of the harsh, brutal, detached cliche father people imagine cavemen to have been but instead being super soft and playful and tender with his kids like we see how he is when comforting Kitty and reassuring Pat.

Dad Robin letting his kids have one hour of TV fire watching time so long as they promise to clean their corner of the cave. He also spoils them by letting them have a sip of puddle water so long as they eat all their berries.

Dad Robin laying with his kids on the grass outside at night and naming all the shapes in the stars and telling them why Moonah is so special and why they should give thanks to Her for watching over them.

Dad Robin getting anxious the first time his eldest goes on their first hunt like the equivalent of sending your kid on their first day of school and sighing with relief when they come back alive. Drenched in blood but alive. You know, typical first day.

Dad Robin telling his kids stories through cave paintings and encouraging them to do their own and leave their hand prints, some of which still remain in secret spots on the land centuries on.

Dad Robin promising his kids some new furs before winter arrives so he goes hunting with two of his mates and come across a bear....

Dad Robin waking up and hearing his kids call for him but when he goes to follow the sound and sees them in the distance, he can't pass through the invisible wall that keeps tossing him back, over and over, all the while his kids can't see or hear him as he calls back to them.

Dad Robin looking forward to every eclipse and solstice as its when he gets to see his family come to the sacred site again, just as Pat's family would come to visit his tree, and he watches each year as his kids get older, have their own kids, before the tribe moves on and he's alone.

Dad Robin studying the face of every person who comes across the land, trying to see if he can spot any familiar signs to indicate they might be his descendant, sometimes hearing if they have his daughter's laugh or his son's smirk etc.

Dad Robin loving that babies can see him and making them laugh and cherishing what connection he has with the living that reminds him of his own kids - especially with Mia, his niece, who thanks to Alison this time won't forget him after she stops seeing him.

Uncle Robin humming the same tune to lull Mia to sleep that he used to hum to his own kids and she asks him to do it each time she visits even when she's really too old for it and shouldn't be able to hear him but somehow still can.

[pixaho]

Hi eli🥳It's nice to see a new high & low writer.how would sword leaders be with their girly lover

How The Sword Leaders Are With Their Girly Lover.

AN | YES! I will happily do this, thank you so much! I decided to also add a wee little twist by adding 1 more character since technically he is a SWORD leader.

Cobra | Hino Junpei

Skin care

"What are you doing?" Cobra rounds the corner to your room, taking in the sight of you. Here you were, wearing a face mask, your hair pushed out of your face, and painting your nails your favorite color. "Doing skin care. Would you like to join?" You ask, a sweet smile plastered on your face. He seems hesitant before walking over and sitting next to you. "Good choice, I was gonna force you anyways."

Public affection

He does it rarely, and when it does happen you seem surprised. This is mainly because the others like to tease him. Unless Naomi is around, then they all shut up about it. (I make Naomi a hype woman, because I feel like she would definitely be one. Her and Lala.)

Date Nights

I feel as though Cobra would ask the others about what to do for date nights. This often leads to him just caving and asking Rocky or settling for a movie night. This man is half good of a cook, he never really learned. More of a take-out kind of guy, or will ask Yamato's mom to help him cook.

Getting hurt (Him)

He gets hurt a lot while fighting, which makes you kind of annoyed. Usually it is just you cleaning him up. You've started to keep a medkit on you at all times of the day.

Getting hurt (You)

Would stay calm but deep inside is worried to hell. If you didn't know how to use a medkit or how to clean your wounds, he would take you to Naomi. If you did, he'd pry the names of the people who hurt you and disappear for hours on end before coming back.

Wearing a skirt that is too short (or a dress)

This man would walk behind you and give anyone who looked at you in a weird way the deadliest death stare there is. We're talking about psychopathic death stare.

Jealous

Not entirely the jealous type, but when he is, he tends to show it by wrapping his arm around your shoulder. If he is really jealous, he holds your love handles/waist.

Rocky | Mutsugi

Skin Care

"Is it suppose to make me feel like my lips are burning?" Rocky asks as he stares at his lips, the lip plumper you had put on him moments ago finally kicking in. "Yes my dear, it is." You giggle slightly as you continue to rub your face wash into your face.

Public Affection

This man does not care if someone sees him being affectionate with you, he wants everyone to know who you belong to and who is the lucky person that gets to be with you.

Date Nights

Ohhh he knows how to cook. I mean, he's been on his own since he was a teen so he's had to learn how to cook. Your date nights are typically him cooking and treating you like you're a goddess. If he doesn't feel like cooking, he'll take you out somewhere and if you're lucky, shopping spree!

Getting Hurt (Him)

Rocky rarely gets hurt since he doesn't really fight but when he does, he usually doesn't want to tell you. He doesn't want to stress you or make you worry so he talks to Koo.

Getting Hurt (You)

If you get hurt, he'll send the others out to hunt down the person or people who harmed you. He will then spend the rest of the time making sure you are okay and helping you clean up. If he's really livid, he'll tell Kizzy to stay while he goes out. Just expect him to come back a wee bit roughed up.

Wearing a skirt that is too short (or dress)

He wouldn't walk behind you like Cobra would but he will make you wear his jacket. If anyone makes a disrespectful comment, he will simply make sure they never speak about you like that ever again. We're talking about this man being so unreasonable that he attacks someone.

Jealous

Doesn't get too jealous unless the other person starts getting touchy feely, then he steps in. His way of making it clear that you are taken is by holding you real close. Unlike Cobra, he doesn't really give death stares but he does give people the stink eye.

Murayama | Yoshiki Murayama

Skin Care

"'Yama.." You whisper, he had fallen asleep with the face mask on. His sleeping face looked so peaceful, you almost felt bad for waking him up. "Five more minutes, this is really comfortable to sleep it." He mumbles, holding your hand.

Public Affection

You don't get to really see each other that much as majority of his time is spent at Oya Kou. But when you do, he's super affectionate. Not wanting to lose you of course. Even if its in public, he is still lovey towards you.

Date Nights

Murayama can partially cook, if he does, that is rare. He doesn't want to cook in case it tastes really bad so he occasionally asks you if you want to order take out and stay in all night. This dies down to cuddling and having fun.

Getting Hurt (Him)

He always comes home with new injuries, whether they come from Todoroki or from others in Oya Kou. Although it is tiring to constantly patch him up, you love him nonetheless.

Getting Hurt (You)

Let's just say that this man goes lethal. We're talking man hunts. He will have Seki and Furuya hunting down whoever hurt you while he stays with you and covers you in pink or your favorite colored bandages. After that, he typically kisses your face to make you feel better.

Wearing a skirt that is too short (or a dress)

Best believe this man is walking with his jacket wrapped around your waist. Giving an ugly stare to anyone that stares for far too long. If you do this just to irk him, he'll see to it that you are wearing leggings.

Jealous

Oh boy, he's jealous. He'll act childish if someone is flirting with you or if they're getting way too close. This usually leads to him getting into a fight or him clinging to you like you are going to drift away at sea.

Smoky | This man has no first name

Skin Care

"Lala uses this too," He squints, reading the label. "Did you buy it for her?" "Yes, I've been helping her earn money from things." You laugh as you continue rubbing the lotion into his hands. His hands were not always rough, but he wanted to try your skin care routine.

Public Affection

Private or public this man don't care. He's hugging, kissing, and or giving you all his attention. Unless he's fighting. Or feels really under the weather. Then he is resting.

Date Nights

There isn't really anywhere romantic for you two to go other than hanging around in the high places. Your date nights consist of taking care of the Nameless Road children or spending the night looking at the stars. Your dinner time is spent with the other Rude Boys and or Lala.

Getting Hurt (Him)

You worry enough about him as it is, considering how sick he is and how fighting also effects his condition. The others usually take care of him while Lala takes you with her, this is by his request.

Getting Hurt (You)

If it's from someone who isn't in Nameless Road, he typically doesn't tell anyone to hunt the person down but instead requests the help from the others (Cobra, Murayama, or Rocky (it's usually Rocky)) and takes the day to spend with you. If it's from someone who is in Nameless City (as in was naturally born there) he will have the others get the person. He is a forgiving person so he'll give them a warning and that is shouldn't happen again.

Wearing a skirt that is too short (or a dress)

If he isn't with you, the other Rude Boys (Mainly P and Takeshi) will walk with you, one of them giving you their jacket. If he is, he's walking behind you to make sure that his jacket isn't short either. He does love when you wear clothes that you're comfortable in, he just doesn't like it when others stare for creepy reasons.

Jealous

Not the jealous type, will feel a tinge of jealousy but he knows you are capable of handling yourself.

Takeshi | "Beat Takeshi"

Skin Care

"This won't take long, right?" He mumbles, still wanting to get to Smoky's grave in time. You nod, rubbing the scrub into his skin. His hands placed on both sides of your hips, him looking up at you.

Public Affection

He's very affectionate in private, but in public he minimalizes his affection. This doesn't have anything to do with being manly, but it has something to do with the fact that usually by the time he's running around with the others, he's already covered in dirt.

Date Nights

Just like Smoky, except instead of being around the Nameless Road children, he usually takes you to a high area to cuddle and watch the stars.

Getting Hurt (Him)

Even though he gets hurt, he takes good enough care of himself that he usually doesn't mention it because he forgets or is too busy.

Getting Hurt (You)

Best believe this man will bring up to P. In return, P and the others will go looking for whoever it was and Takeshi will stay with you to make sure you're doing okay. He worries about you even if he sometimes doesn't show it.

Wearing a skirt that is too short (or a dress)

The only and last time you wore a dress that was too short was the time that Takeshi got a jacket that was long enough to help cover your bum. You still wear skirts and dresses but you always wear the jacket.

Jealous

Definitely the jealous type, he'll boast about how you're his girl and how you're beautiful. If that isn't enough, he will take you away from the person and be super close to you.

Hyuga | Norihisa Hyuga

Skin Care

"No." He pushes away the idea of doing your skin care routine, he would like to do it but he does not want you to know that. "Fine then, grumpy." You grumble as you walk back into the bathroom. That was enough to get him to get up and do it with you. Playing it off as though he hates it, when in reality he really enjoys it.

Public Affection

You best bet this man will refuse to show you any form of affection in public, and even in private his affection is quite shit. It isn't that he doesn't love you, it's that he doesn't know how to show it quite yet. His way of showing you affection is getting you all types of gifts, which are usually small (candles, makeup (he so fucks this up), clothes, and sometimes jewelry).

Date Nights

Your date nights are spent at restaurants, but 80% of the time he has the other Daruma Ikka members there, and if they aren't there then you actually spend time alone. The rare date nights are where you both stay in and do shit together.

Getting Hurt (Him)

Actually doesn't care to tell you or bother asking you to help him. It's not about being manly, well it partially is, but its also because he doesn't want you to see him when he's like this. He cares for you.

Getting Hurt (You)

Let's be brutally honest, he'll act as if he doesn't care but in secret he gets his right hand men to hunt and possibly kill the person who hurt you.

Wearing a skirt thats too short (or a dress)

He doesn't really care if anyone is staring because he wants to flaunt you. Granted the people that cat call you annoy him, he's too proud that he landed you to really give a shit.

Jealous

This mf.. if someone is getting too close or touchy feely with you, he'd act as if it didn't bother him but he's secretly grabbing you and holding you close. Not in the affectionate way, more so of in the "she's mine" way.

Masterlist High&Low Masterlist

[muffinsin]

Can I request how the sisters would take their virgin s/o should they be gentle or rough. How would they start. Would they be romantic about it? I’d love to see that

Of course! My, I have some thoughts on that!👀

Let’s get into it! :)

Masterlists

Bela

Bela has it all planned out

She knows, one only loses their virginity once, and she wants everything to be perfect, down to the last detail

She talks with you about it, and you settle on a day for it to happen

She doesn’t want it to feel like a random fling to you

Hidden away, she plans for days, buys and prepares things until it’s just the way she wants it to be

She chooses her bedroom, a very secluded and private part of the castle, as the room she’ll take your virginity in

The eager eldest daughter of Alcina Dimitrescu sets up beautiful flower bouquets and well smelling candles, dim lighting and beautiful, comfortable sheets

She tries to be as romantic as she can be, should you enjoy this. Only things you enjoy today

During the day you’ve agreed upon, she spends breakfast with you in your bed, near the maiden quarters

She doesn’t eat the same things as you, but is content to cuddle or talk about how beautiful the sunrise looks from your window

She takes you out to see the most beautiful places in the forest, hidden deep within- ponds and flowers that bloom this season, bird nesting places as well as caves she has found with old, far older than even Mother Miranda, paintings inside

Once back at the castle, she spends quality time with you. She likes to keep you near her as she reads, the lit fireplace warming your skin

Bela ensures you have a beautiful dinner with her in the castle gardens, with only your favourite foods as she settles for her signature glass of blood-wine

As she takes you to her room, she is slow and gentle

She gives you plenty opportunities to speak your mind- it’s very important to her that you know, you can stop it at anytime

Bela treats you by far the softest, with gentle touches and skilled, precise hands that remove first her clothing, then, once she’s had enough of you ogling her, yours

She starts off with trailing kisses all over your neck and chest area, allows you to lay below her as she teaches you a thing or two

She’s very soft and gentle as she parts your legs and asks you for permission once again

When given, she starts off by giving you oral. She’ll stray from her kinky fantasies for the first time, instead take good care of you in a vanilla fashion

She doesn’t want to overwhelm you, though, should you initiate or wish for something kinkier, she will gladly give into your request

She ensures you know, this day is about you

She will edge you for once, however. She just can’t resist dragging out the noises you make

She’ll drag two orgasms from you, then offer you to rest

Bela is content with only getting you off the first time, though is pleasantly surprised when you ask to pleasure her as well

She’ll teach you to finger her, how to angle them up and rub her clit with each thrust, and she’ll shower you in praises

Still, her cool facade is gone in seconds of you accidentally touching her

What is left of the controlled woman is a moaning and gasping test subject for you as she allows you to try out what you want on her

Occasionally, she attempts to guide you. At other times she just lays gasping beneath you, fisting the sheets as you do what you want to her to explore

The poor thing is sensitive and pent up enough, she has no hopes of trying to conceal how good your inexperienced touch makes her feel

Should you express the wish to eat her out, and still have the endurance and strenght for it, she becomes one needy girl on top of your face

Praises falling from her lips like water droplets in a waterfall, wetness even more so from her cunt

She’ll gasp out instructions here and there, though overall mostly grind against your lips

She’s quite the soft dom the first time, even if this doesn’t change all that much most of the time

Her aftercare consists of cuddling. She’ll pull you against her chest even as both of you pant

Hold you tight to her as she strokes your hair and tells you how good you’ve been

Perhaps, she will even bring you a snack and water as you cuddle together

Cassandra

She loves you, and wants the first time to be special for you

It hasn’t quite been for her, more so just a fling, and she wants to make up for that with you

While she is nowhere near as romantic as her sisters, she will still show her care for you

Unlike with Bela, the first time of the two of you together is very spontaneous

Cassandra bends down to retrieve blades that have fallen from her desk, and very much so feels your stare

She shakes her ass teasingly, mumbling something about taking a picture before she rises again

She feels herself growing wet at your stare, but doesn’t act on it. She wouldn’t think you’d randomly be ready, after all, but enjoys being eyed like a piece of meat. It’s worship, to her

She’s taken back when you’re suddenly up against her and, with a flushed face, tell her you’re ready

She has, “accidentally”, been teasing all day, with her thick ass brushing up against you when she sat on your thighs while you read,

Her breasts smudging against you when she hugged you in the morning,

Her voice low and breathy when she returns from her visit to the dungeon

You knew even then how turned on she was, even as she just greeted you and asked about your day. No doubt she has gotten off down there. In turn, it turned you on too

Her displayed ass under tight clothing is just the tip of the iceberg now

She smirks at you, her teeth dragging against your skin. She never fails to make you shiver

“Are you so sure about that, morsel? I’m well tempted to ruin you for your perverted thoughts”, she speaks, asking for permission while also speaking a warning: she cares, yet will not be all that soft on you

Upon agreeing, a small glint is seen in her golden eyes

Immediately, she grasps you tightly, eagerly so. She’s been waiting for this

You find yourself on your bed with your wrists restrained above your head easily, her other hand tracing your neck

“You’re all mine now”, she whispers all too hungrily

Cassandra all but tears your clothing off with sharp, precise nails

She allows you one more chance to speak your mind before her free hand reaches down to pleasure you between your thighs

While she won’t bring out ropes and whips for the first time yet, she will pinch and scratch, bite and mark eagerly

By the end of it, you will be covered in bruises from hickeys and her tight grip, her bite marks as well as pinched and rubbed skin

She’s eager and rather rough in the way she squeezes your wrists and restrains you, and all but demands you to react

She wants to find all your sweet spots, and takes her sweet time with it

Her lips explore your neck and chest, each inch covered and marked until you’re mostly covered in bite marks and hickeys

She makes sure not to drink too much from you, though cannot resist a taste for herself at your hip

She works her hand fast, and rough, and quickly learns where your most sensitive spots are and exploits them

Cassandra will make you beg to cum for her

She doesn’t care you’re a virgin, and inexperienced. She’ll tease and edge you until you, her little lamb, finds their voice

She teases you of how well your virgin blood tastes, as well as how sweet it is when you’re cumming

Can you truly blame her for overstimulating you, then?

She let’s go of your hands only in favour of moving between your legs and having a taste for herself

Cassandra is fast and eager, her own fingers inside of her while she sucks, licks, and moans between your spread thighs

She does so love overstimulating you…

Even when you squirm and shake on the bed for her, she merely coos sadistically and holds you in place

She’s very likely to grab some toys to finish you off

Her aftercare consists of a bath and cuddling in bed, where she will massage cream into your sore muscles and bruises

She will leave you with her bite marks, though

Daniela

Oh, a virgin! She’s thrilled!

She wants it all to be romantic, really

Soft candlelight,

Prepared rooms of champagne and flowers,

Soft sheets of a made bed

In reality, it’s a little different

Sex with Daniela comes very spontaneous

It’s no secret to you that she can be very, very aroused very easily

A small comment is enough to make her breath hitch, or an action such as praising the pretty redhead

When you playfully slap her ass, she gasps and is immediately up for it

She’s full of excitement, all the time

Though, she usually holds back. She knows you’re a virgin and doesn’t want to overstep

She’s been taught the importance and special occasion of losing one’s virginity

It takes little to arouse her even when you aren’t actively doing something, and often she will be in the library, squirming to a scene of smut she’s reading

Poor Daniela gets so flustered so easily, and can smell and feel herself growing wet between her legs countless times a day

Usually, she tends to this herself, hidden away in her room when you’re busy, her legs spread and a dildo within her

Such as she is doing this day

Too caught up in her own neediness and actions, she doesn’t notice you approaching

You, however, hear the very obvious moans and hushed gasps from the other side of her door

Daniela is not the best at being subtle, really

With her eyes closed, laying on her back and her legs spread, she doesn’t notice you enter her room until you lean above her, your hips accidentally pushing her wrists down and making her push the toy deeper inside of herself, your hands cupping her warm cheeks

“My lo-ha! Love!”, she greets, flustered and all too aware of your hips keeping her wrists pressed up between her legs. She can’t move the toy out of her, nor can she push it in and out more

Daniela grows only more flustered when you slide one hand from her cheek and trail it down her naked body, until you grip the toy between her thighs

“You don’t have tAAH!”- She finds herself cut off and moaning, her head thrown back when you thrust in and out, by far faster than she has done it

Accidentally, it seems, she has turned herself into your test subject

“Lo-Oooaaah! Love!”, she shrieks, her thighs merely spread by you as you lean down and watch her take the toy inside

Poor Dani is extremely put out by this. She can only grip the sheets at the fast pace of the dildo ramming in and out of her pussy

You’re inexperienced, and your fast, wild thrusts make her feel torn in two

You’re so tempted by her, you can’t help but brush your finger against her soaked and pink clit

Daniela gasps and moans again. It seems she has truly turned herself into your test subject now

The thought of a virgin dominating her without any effort makes her feel even hotter

Sweet Daniela will let you drag an orgasm from her before she swarms on top of you, the dildo peeking out of her and pressing against your stomach

She’ll wait for your vocal permission before she tugs off your clothing and moves between your legs to repay the favour

Daniela is a very good girl the first time for you, albeit it shows early on how needy she is

She’ll lick and suck, orally bringing you to orgasm before she uses her fingers as well

Should you be into it, she all but offers you the toy, still buried deep inside of her

With her pink pussy pushed up and smearing against your stomach, she lays on top of you, humming dreamily as she pushes the dildo in and out

She’ll praise you and shoot you loving smiles, even as she absolutely ruins you and drags orgasm after orgasm from you while her cunt drools all over your skin

Daniela makes it a point to lick the dildo each time after you orgasm, partly to allow you a little break, and partly to show off just how needy she is once again

She’s gentle, though demanding, bringing you to orgasm over and over again if you don’t restrain the energetic thing

Should you not stop her or grow too tired, she will spend hours toying with you and allowing you to experiment what your kinks and tricks are on her

[dufferpuffer]

Do you think lupin and tonks were sleeping together before HBP? I’ve seen some fics write their relationship timeline like that and while I appreciate that version I’m not sure it makes sense to me from what we’re shown and with how I see lupins character, but maybe I’m wrong idk

YES I DO. Remus is a man of... 'explosive' bad decisions. He tries to prevent things but at a time of excitement he goes with the flow.

- He allows himself to go on nighttime walkabouts with his friends despite knowings its wrong every month. - He procrastinates on his potions and runs off to face Sirius Black. - He quits his job rather than stick it out with the support of most of the school kids and Dumbledore.

A woman is attracted to him. She is flirting and forward and sweet and funny and understanding and oh so cool and cute and lovely and pretty - He 'knows' he shouldn't... ...But he has never been too good at resisting things. He is more of a 'do the thing and regret it forever' sort of man.

I can't remember when Tonks announces her intentions to marry/woo Remus, but to do so without at least fucking him for awhile first... its just unrealistic. It would paint her as more childish and I just don't think that's her characterization: She is a little immature but is a capable woman. She isn't made out to be a fool. Just eager.

Remus, also, starts taking the toughest, most suicidal missions just to get away from her. That isn't because she is too pushy. Ok maybe it is a little. But it is mainly because she is too damn tempting! You don't throw yourself to the wolves unless you're trying to get away from something BIG. I think that big thing is that her affection and understanding is too strong for him - when they are together they fuck like jackrabbits. ..And eventually, they start fucking like a mated couple of wolves.

And how difficult for Tonks... When they are together he is hot-and-cold. He crawls into her arms and her bed like a lover but also acts like she is a poison, she is terrible to him, he would rather die...

Pregnancy isn't that easy to achieve if you are baseline careful. Women are only able to be impregnated like 48 hours a month, max - and even then with the healthiest people its a 1/3 chance at best.

He accidentally gets her pregnant. They were being so 'explosive' and irresponsible that it was an ACCIDENT. I have been having unprotected sex for 10 years via simply tracking my ovulation and never gotten pregnant once. Sorry if thats TMI - but it really isnt that hard to avoid pregnancy, aside from freak accidents. Maybe they had a freak accident. But being irresponsible is in Remus' blood and breath - as is 'being eager' in Tonks' blood.

I think Remus would have resistance to Tonks coming onto him, but caved relatively easily in a moment of weakness... and then continued to cave, over and over again. That is what was so magnetic about their relationship for eachother: Their moments of deep passion and affection, wrenched apart by Remus' cold feet. That's why Tonks announced her will to 'have' him publicly: To pull him in for good. To have those passionate moments forever.

That's just what I think, anyway. Tonks could handle his lust and energy on a Waxing Gibbous, be tender and affectionate on a Waning Gibbous.. and damn normal on a New Moon. How the can Remus resist someone who can handle him at his worst - and adore him at his best...?

[wheels-of-despair]

@oneforthemunny's Summertime Writing Game The Title: Coconuts and Consequences The Eddie: Bouncer!Eddie The Prompt: 🃏 Wildcard The Summary: Bouncer!Eddie does something he knows he shouldn't during a luau-themed night at the bar. Bartender handles it. Contains: Bratty!Bouncer, Possessive!Bartender, spanking, cuddling. The Words: 2k Note: Youths and ageless blogs, DNI. Writer will block your ass.

Eddie Munson does not look like the cuddly type.

The snarky bouncer who can wrestle any drunk out of the bar? Not afraid to say no? Cold-hearted bastard who can turn away any fake ID and enforce any bartender-ordered cutoff? That guy? No way.

You know better.

Eddie Munson can be soft. But first, you have to be hard.

Right now, for example. He's nestled into your side, halfway on top of you, clinging like he's afraid he'll fall off the bed if he lets go. He lets you kiss his forehead and play with his hair and rub his back. He lets you whisper sweet things to him; tell him what a good boy he is, how proud you are of him, how much you love him. You can't get enough of these moments. But how did he get like this?

It all started the evening before, when the bar tried out a luau night to celebrate the onset of summer. You'd both laughed at the corny idea, but you eventually caved and put on lei.

No such luck getting Eddie into anything festive, though. You'd gone through the box of props together, and he'd refused to compromise his standard black ensemble with something silly. "Aww, baby, you'd be so pretty in a little grass skirt," you'd teased, holding one up and shaking it at him. He'd given you a glare and left before you could keep teasing him.

You were up to your tits in fruity tropical drinks for most of the night, and when you finally got a minute to breathe, you used it to bring him an ice water. On your way to him, you overheard a table of drunken broads expressing a desire to "blow the bouncer like a beach ball." For one, that sounded gross, and for two... that bouncer belonged to you.

It was quiet at the door, so you decided to linger for a minute. And maybe mark your territory. Instead of handing off his water and returning to the bar, you stood between his legs on the bar stool and hooked your arm around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

"Mmm," he moaned. "What's that for?"

"Just needed a little something to get me through the rest of my shift," you grinned deviously, taking a minute to stare into those sparkling brown eyes before turning on your heel to return to the bar. He said goodbye with a smack to your ass, and you whirled around and shot him a playful glare without stopping.

The table of drunks went quiet as you passed them again. Good.

After about an hour and several more waves of refills, you looked up to see Eddie staring at you… from behind one of the drunk women. You took in her body language and seethed. The corner of his mouth twitched. Don't you dare, Munson. He looked up from his bar stool by the door at the woman in front of him, and gave her a big fake smile. With this encouragement, she reached for his hand, and brought it to rest on her coconut bra. Which she was clearly not wearing anything under. He smirked and made eye contact with you again to check for a reaction. You don't know what he was expecting, but your glare was so powerful, it made him swallow and quickly remove his hand. He rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans.

And that's how Eddie Munson found himself stripped and dragged over your kitchen table by the scruff of his neck, as his own belt blistered his backside. Held long like a whip, buckle-side wrapped around your palm, the strikes came hard and fast. When you noticed him trying to rock against the table, you held him still with a hand on his lower back and let the leather drift a little lower, wrapping around his thighs every few strikes. Then he really started panting and squirming. He gripped the edges of the table with white knuckles, holding himself in place as you painted his backside a delicious shade of red. Gorgeous.

When you decided he'd had enough, and he'd apologized with both his words and his tongue - which, judging by the mess he left on the floor, he enjoyed as much as you did - you made him clean up the kitchen tile, and sent him to bed. You took your time locking up and changing before entering the bedroom yourself, finding him lying face-down and still bare like he'd been instructed. Good boy.

Then it was time for your favorite part.

Lying on your back next to him, you extended an arm, and he crawled into you. He rested his head on your chest and threw an arm and a leg over you, nuzzling in until he was comfortable. Brushing the hair out of his face with an affectionate smile, you placed a light kiss on his forehead. You cradled his head with one hand, stroked your hand up and down his broad back with the other, and felt him breathe out all his troubles.

"You okay?" you ask softly.

"Mhm," he sighs happily.

"You sure? I didn't exactly take it easy on you."

"You know I can take it," he mumbles into your breast. You knew it wouldn't be long before sleep claimed him; he got so mumbly and affectionate when he was worn out, he almost appeared drunk. He's so fucking beautiful when he gets like this.

"I know, baby," you tell him with another kiss to the forehead. "You're so good for me when you're done being a brat."

He chuckles into your chest, and you slide your hand into his hair, giving his scalp a scratch to finish him off. It works. He moans and squeezes you tighter with the arm draped over you, which grows heavier by the second.

Eddie's not always soft and cuddly like this, but when he is... you think that's when you love him the most.

It was the tone that did it. "Aww, baby, you'd be so pretty in a little grass skirt," you'd teased, digging through that box of stupid luau stuff in the office. Something about the way you said it made his dick twitch. He rolled his eyes and left before you could continue and make his night an uncomfortable one.

The luau-themed night had brought in a few more patrons than usual; mostly women in search of a fruity drink and an easy lay, he supposed. He checked IDs and scanned the bar regularly, making sure everyone was behaving. His eyes kept landing on you; hard at work, mixing one girly drink after another. You were wearing a lei that framed the cleavage revealed by your tank top perfectly. He had to keep reminding himself that he was on duty, and was not being paid to gawk at those beauties all night.

When you finally got a free minute, you used it to bring him a drink. How lucky could one guy get? You looked a little agitated when you came to him, standing between his legs and pulling him in for a kiss with an arm around his neck before handing him his water.

"Mmm," he moaned. "What's that for?"

"Just needed a little something to get me through the rest of my shift," you'd grinned. He reached out and landed a light smack to your ass as you returned to the bar, and you turned around and shot him a glare that gave him another twitch down below.

A while later, one of the women quickly approaching a cutoff wandered over to him. She was wearing a denim skirt and spilling out of a plastic coconut bra.

"You're lookin' awful lonely over here, handsome," she slurred. He gave her a polite smile and wished she wasn't blocking his view of the bar. "Y'like my outfit?"

"Yeah, you really went all out, huh?" Eddie still had a view of you past her shoulder. You chose that moment to look up and see him peeking at you from behind her bare back. Your eyes narrowed.

"Jus' for you, sexy. Wanna feel?" You were glaring at him with that don't do it look. So of course, he had to do it. He smiled up at the drunk woman and let her grab his hand and place it on her cheap mound of plastic. He dared to sneak another peek at you, and could practically see the smoke coming out of your ears. You were so fucking pretty when you were mad. And scary, too. He swallowed hard and wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on his jeans when the drunk released him. And just like that, the bouncer was rocking a semi… but it had nothing to do with the sloppy broad spilling out of the coconut bra.

You were quiet on the way home. The kind of quiet that made him nervous, but also excited. He vibrated the whole way, wondering just how mad you were and what you were gonna do to him.

He soon found out.

"What's our rule about touching?" you'd hissed as soon as he closed the front door, your hand in his hair, pulling him down to your height. "Did you think that was funny? Do you think you're cute?" Part of him wanted to egg you on, but the fury on your face silenced him. He was sure you could feel his erection straining at his zipper when you released his hair and started fumbling with his belt buckle. You ripped his belt out of the loops so fast, he could feel the heat around his waist. "Off," you ordered, and he stripped faster than he ever had before. You grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pushed him down over the kitchen table. He turned his cheek into the cool wood and waited for what he'd been thinking about for hours.

You did not disappoint. The strikes came hard and fast. He barely had time to process the sting of one lash before another took its place. He grasped the edges of the table and wished you'd dragged him to the bedroom, so he could find some friction in the sheets. You must've noticed him squirming on the table top, because you placed a hand on his back to hold him still, then began aiming the belt lower, letting it wrap around his thighs and finding new places to burn.

Just when he thought he was about to explode all over the table, you stopped.

"Got something to say to me?"

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"What was that?"

"I'm sorry," he said louder.

"You're sorry for…?"

"I'm sorry for touching another woman."

"I don't think you mean that."

"I do." He's still clinging to the edges of the table, frozen in place until you tell him he can get up.

"Prove it."

"How?"

"Get up." He pushes himself off the table and turns to see you sitting on the counter, in nothing but the tank top you'd worn to work. Like a moth to a flame, he drifts toward your center instinctively, settling on his knees and letting his tongue do the talking.

After you'd accepted his apology - and made him clean up the load he'd blown on the floor - you sent him to bed. He was so exhausted, he didn't even complain; he picked up his clothes, walked quietly to the bedroom, stopped to admire the redness of his ass in the mirror, and threw himself face-first on the bed to wait.

Soon, you came to him. You laid on your back next to him and held an arm out. He crawled to you and rested his head on your chest - covered only in one of his t-shirts - and threw an arm and a leg over you. You brushed his hair out of his face and kissed his forehead, then cradled his skull with one hand and rubbed his back with the other.

"You okay?" you ask softly.

"Mhm," he sighs, happy and tired and enjoying your touch... almost as much as the cool air the fan was blowing on his still-burning ass.

"You sure? I didn't exactly take it easy on you."

"You know I can take it," he mumbles, nuzzling closer into the softness of your breasts.

"I know," you tell him with another kiss to the forehead. "You're so good for me when you're done being a brat."

He chuckles. It's fun being a brat, though. Before he can keep the banter going, you give his scalp a scratch with your nails, and he moans. He squeezes you tighter, completely content and comfortable, feeling himself drift toward sleep in your arms.

He really should initiate this little game more often.

[namorslutfanfiction]

Are you okay with writing death? If yes could you do something where reader’s (surface dweller but now lives in Talokan with Namor cause they are married) Aunt dies (and Aunt raised reader)? and like how Namor would comfort them through it?

hmmm oddly specific but ok (you ok nonnie?)

Summary: You were grieving and Namor had centuries of experience in that category. He wasn't going to let you face it alone

Hurt/comfort

He watched from the water as you looked out toward the land. Namor had told you to return home upon receiving the news of your aunt's passing. It had been a week, and the preparations had been made and your aunt had been laid to rest. It was time for you to come back to Talokan.

Namor approached you as you waded into the water. You glanced one last time at the shore then turned to your husband.

"Are you ready, in yakunaj?" Namor asked as he pulled you into his arms.

You nodded quietly against him, tears still leaking from your eyes. Leaving the surface to be with Namor had been the best decision of your life but not being there for your aunt as she passed was your greatest regret. The King rubbed your back comfortingly then lifted the breather up to your face to put you to sleep.

In the coming weeks, Namor noticed that you were still grieving. He knew it was a process but he was worried for you. Your appetite had grown weak and you had been spending more and more time in the tent in the caves. He had given you enough space and now wished to see if he could help.

When he entered the tent, after allowing you to make it your escape the last few weeks, he was in awe of the painting you had added to the wall. It was a portrait of a woman cradling a child that looked very much like you.

"In reina," Namor began as he came to your side, "It is beautiful."

He wrapped his arms around you from behind and you leaned back against him, treasuring his warmth. "Do you think she would have liked it, my aunt?"

"I think she would have loved it. She raised you, right?" Namor asked as you both took a seat at the small table in the center of the tent. He stayed close, holding your hand in his.

"She was practically my mother. You remember, she was the only one who supported me running away with you. She was the only one that really understood me," Tears welled up in your eyes and Namor wrapped an arm around you, "I should have been there. We knew she was getting old. We knew that she wouldn't last. Why didn't I go to her?"

You began sobbing in earnest and Namor pulled you into his lap, brushing your hair and rocking you. "Shhh, my love, do not blame yourself. She would not have blamed you. As you said, she was elderly and knew it was coming."

"But I should have been there," you wept, your hands covering your face.

Namor gently put his hands on your wrists and pulled them way from your face, "Oh, my queen, would she have held it against you? It was sudden, no one could have known that she would pass in her sleep."

The King rocked, humming a low and slow tune as your sobbing died down. You clutched onto Namor, taking comfort in his presence and that he was allowing you to mourn in your own time.

"Do you think I am silly for still crying?" You asked, knowing it was a stupid question but still wanting reassurance.

Namor sighed, "There are some days that I still shed a tear for my mother and her people. Grief takes time. It ebbs and flows like the waves. You will be able to handle it better some days than others. You will learn the methods to travel through it without stumbling as much as you did in the beginning. But it will never leave. And that is beautiful."

You listened intently to his words, "Beautiful?"

"Yes, grief is beautiful. It shows the world, me, and yourself, that you loved someone so much that even with them not beside you, you still hold a place for them in your heart. And that is beautiful," Namor concluded. He kissed your temple but did not relinquish his hold.

"In ajawo, I know she was proud of me. l also know how happy she was when I told her about you. I don't ever want to forget her," You admitted, remembering her immediate love and care for the man that became your husband.

"I have an idea," Namor said, smiling at you.

"An idea for how I won't forget her?" You asked, curiosity piqued through your sadness.

"Whenever we bare a child, whether it is tomorrow or years from now, I hope you would honor that child and name them after your aunt," Namor replied, absentmindedly laying another kiss to your temple.

You felt a tear slip from your eye down your cheek. Namor wiped it away with his thumb, looking at you expectantly, "I would love that, my love. I think she would have been so excited to hear that."

"You'll remember her and every time you see our child, call their name, show them love, her memory will live on. And hopefully in that time, your grief will be less deep and replaced by love," Namor kissed both your cheeks before capturing your lips in a gentle and loving kiss.

"Will you hold me for awhile longer?" You asked him, worried he might have some kingly duties to deal with.

"Of course, in yakunaj, you have me for as long as you need me," Namor said, clutching you tighter and continuing the humming of a song.

.....

so cheesy and fluffy. hope you liked it nonnie.

reviews, comments, and replies. feed me.

[rise-my-angel]

Why don’t you like Ygritte? I haven’t read the books but I’ve heard that she’s worst there?

The books make the dynamic between her and Jon a lot more clear that it isn't romantic. There are much stronger tones of Ygritte being sexually aggressive towards Jon that are not painted in a fun light, as Jon repeatetly rejects her advances, puts Ghost in between them when they sleep to protect himself from her advances. Jon many times has to tell her that what she thinks this is, it isn't anything like that (man kidnapping woman in her culture seems romantic and Jon struggles to get her to understand he doesnt want that at all). And in the cave she demands he sends Ghost away because she knows Ghost won't let her touch Jon, and it is a lot more clear that if Jon leaves the cave and doesn't have sex with Ygritte, they will take it as a sign he is still a Crow and will follow Mance's orders to kill him.

Now the book has issues, mostly that grrm does not explore Jons perspective of this dynamic as abusive or the sex as rape. But it was written in the 90's when male rape victims at the hands of female perpetrators was not a talking point and thus Jon doesn't really get to explore it.

But his experiances are exactly what we would see as abuse and rape were the genders flipped. I've also been in a scenario much like that with someone who was a lot like Ygritte and I can say it was an abusive dynamic and it was rape I experianced, and recognizing that in Jons interactions makes me unable to view her in a positive light.

In the show, there is a lot more work being done to make it cute, but really, Jon does not act like he's comfortable. He has moments like in the books where sure, it seems like he enjoys her company, but thats what being with an abuser is like. Sometimes, you do enjoy them, thats how you convince yourself to stay and that you love them, when youre really afraid of them.

If you watch the show with that in mind, and pay specific attention to Jons silent reactions to her, 90% of the time, he seems uncomfortable and scared of her. I do not enjoy the framing of the show that it is a star crossed lovers dynamic.

I know people do not agree, and that's fine. But my views on Ygritte are directly correllated to me experiancing an abusive relationship where I was raped, with someone who treated me exactly the same kind of way Ygritte treats Jon.

Others may not see her in that light and understand, but my painting of Ygritte is through a lens of experiancing that in real life and knowing that the framing of romance is not really what that is like, trauma isn't experianced through a romantic lens and the scene of them in the cave genuinly triggers me to an upsetting degree because it makes me feel like I should be remembering my own experiance as romantic when I know it wasn't.

I have a tag for anti ygritte and anti jongritte which might go into more detail if you are further interested in why I've come to those conclusions.

I know my perspective of her upsets some people, and it isn't intentional. It's just how I've experienced that situation.

[traxanaxanos]

I frequently find myself being deeply fascinated and drawn in by background characters in the media I engage with. There's one centaur woman in a battle shot of the Chronicles of Narnia who I was obsessed with when that movie came out; I think frequently and at length about Freda "Where is mama?" Lord of the Rings and her brother (and her mama for that matter - she got back to her kids!! She did it! What did she experience on that perilous and dire journey to reunite with her children??).

This is the same for Star Trek, of course, my first and ever-lasting media obsession. And I've been trying to figure out what the draw is. I think it's partially that those background characters provide a way to poke at the edges the story creates, to push past the boundaries and explore the world a little more, even if only in flights-of-fancy. And, in addition to that ideal dreaming, the what-ifs?, the presence of the characters in the background makes the universe feel whole, feel inhabited, and feel BIG. Deanna Troi is obviously shaken by Daniel Kwan's death, and we see that. But what is Lieutenant Junior Grade Nara up to in the background? How does she cope with that event - she seems composed when Troi talks to her - sad, but in a professional and distant way. Did she grieve privately? Do Canopians grieve differently? Are Starfleet engineers fairly desensitized to the death of a coworker? Her presence brings up so many questions and widens the field of the universe. Lieutenant Stadi doesn't seem particularly flamboyant, nor is she burdened, frustrated, or apathetic about her psychic powers, which is what we've seen of Betazoids so far between Lwaxanna, Tam, and Deanna. Is she then a more everyday citizen of Betazed? Could she have been the Tuvok to Deanna's Spock? Was she the pilot because she was supposed to interface with Voyager's bio-neural gel packs, and would that mean Starfleet was attempting to militarize a planetary population who largely seem violence-averse (because lets be real, Voyager may be a science ship but starfleet is really a military organization). Did she volunteer for this experimental position? We are never going to get answers but aren't the questions fascinating? Doesn't their unanswerable nature make the world of Star Trek seem that much bigger?

What is Zarabeth doing for the rest of her natural life, alone on a freezing planet, trapped in the past, after her sad strange adventure with the men from the future? What was the tyrant Zor Kahn's rule like? Did Zarabeth take part in her family's rebellion against him, or was her banishment merely vengeful punishment against the very existence of her family? Does she get into cave painting? Before the sun of Sarpeidon went super nova, could you have found a cave amidst the ice with a message she tried to leave for those future men (goodbye, I loved you!), for Zor Kahn (I defy you to the last!), for anyone at all (I was here! I loved! I lived!)? People exist and existed outside the adventures of Kirk, Spock, and Bones, and keep on existing after our heroes depart, the trio don't just leave an uninhabited void behind them when they leave for the next adventure (even though we know that they actually do, since they're the characters the show is about and nothing exists beyond the eye of the camera).

I think one of my issues with a lot of the new Star Trek properties, even when I like them, is that they lean so heavily on nostalgia, on fan-bait and references, but that rarely works for me. I don't care about seeing Spock or Picard again, their stories ended, and even if there's some lose threads, they're fun to pick at in an idle-thought way, not to unravel, and their stories had solid, fulfilling endings. I don't want to see Riker again, especially if it's to show him once again abandoning his Imzadi, to show that his character growth in marrying Deanna, in committing to something and to her specifically, is paper-thin and so easily cast aside. It shrinks his character. And when Riker is always showing up to save the day in Enterprise, in Star Trek: Online, in Resurgence, and in Lower Decks, when we get the fifth or sixth iteration of Spock, it also shrinks the world. It's the Skywalker problem. The galaxy actually isn't as big as it seems, it really only stretches a few feet past the horizon of these handful of characters. There is no Oz, in the end, and behind the curtain is just a writer's room obsessed with characters who already got their endings. There is no one else who exists in the galaxy except for like 4 men and mayyyyybe the women who are their romantic interests. It removes the dreaming edges of the world, and shows the hands of the creators far too much.

I also don't think its hypocritical to say that when the references do work on me its only if it's a background character. I was legitimately so thrilled when Sonya Gomez showed up on Lower Decks! She scratched that itch, that feeling of newness and boundary-pushing and exploration that is what I love about background characters (and I do have to admit she has always been one of my fave background characters). The life we can imagine for her! The adventures she must have had! All the things that led from her being a bumbling ensign to a capable, compassionate captain! The vastness of the Star Trek universe, that it has room for Sonya Gomez and all her off-screen, unseen, imagined stories. Literally, the possibilities for the life of her character between those two episodes of TNG and the one episode of Lower Decks are infinite. That's the kind of reference, the returning character bait that really works for me, that gets me excited for continuing stories in a universe.

All this to say, in complete earnestness, this is why now, more than ever, we need a Greskgrendrek mini-series.

[haha-shit]

In occasionally ask my friends to send me single words to think about before bed so my thoughts can run wild a bit and I think I just wrote an essay on why people are worth saving in fifteen minutes.

“It’s weird to me how much paint connects people through time because of the pigments. Granted some pigments aren’t used anymore because they’re poisonous like arsenic or sulfuric derivatives or radioactive likes cobalts and uraniums. But many pigments such as the red from iron or the green from copper are the same pigments invented and pioneered by ages old painters. My self portrait used the same iron that a Scandinavian woman what feels like millions of years ago used to paint her baby a picture of her husbands hunting, the green I use to paints viola stems and stream is the same green that van goph used in his highlights and stilllifes. The indigo I used to paint a woman’s eye is the same indigo that would’ve been used to paint a flower for a wealthy persons commission of a family. Maybe me and some unknown painter three hundred years ago both painted tangled limbs in the sunset, maybe both of our tears thinned the paint on the pallet, did they twirl their brush in thinner too? Did they ignore the canvas? Leave it blank? Did they share my name? My face? Did they follow the same pattern drawing loving eyes first and working form there? Or did they focus on the anatomy, discussing with themselves. Did they have to repaint the hair because they had smeared the background paint. Did a German artist a hundred years ago paint the same forest cat, did he name it? Did it mean little rascal in his language too? Did a woman in England dream of a sea she has never seen? Were the shells painted with the same daisy yellow and rust red or did she dream of different ones. Spirals instead of points, smooth instead of textured? Did she laugh at the brush bristles being permanently pink from yesterday’s carnations? Maybe a man in Russia painted a similar skyline, maybe an Icelandic man painted the same northern lights. They might’ve meant more to him, maybe less. Every new paint that comes out we pioneer, my crappy imagination could turn out the most influential thing of the next century. Perhaps we’re all connected through art. Not just the pigments but the act. Mediveal children drew in the margins of books, graffiti is on the walls of Pompeii, woodcarvings are found in remnants of churches in Denmark, the cuts imprecise and erratic as though an apprentice forgot his post, there are cave paintings that shows the painters hand the size of a four year olds’ likely guided by their father or mother. Humans create. In depths of war and famine we create. We create when we are happy when we are sad the angriest people create the most beautiful pieces because you can see the shaking hand holding the brush you can feel warm breath fanning on the canvas, tears thin paint to create washes and drips, smiles reflect light onto the painted rivers and ice. Paint connects every human who has ever lived and every human who ever will. Art goes beyond religeon, race, ethnicity, food, ideas, language poem written in German evoke emotional responses for me when I do not know the language. Art has no structure and yet we are all fluent and it is truely remarkable.”

How beautiful the cry of the soul slashed open

[flynndesdelca]

For Day 7 (Role Switch) of @chelltastic’s Portal Drawtober 2023 Challenge. As I’m not really an artist, I chose to write short pieces for the prompts.

"Those people, in the portrait.  They look so... familiar."

It was hard to look at the portrait in question.  After all, she had been there when it had been commissioned.  Why it was hung here, of all places, she would never know.  But the eyes that stared at her from the canvas were hauntingly familiar, and it made her look away in frustration and shame.

"Do you recognize them?" The follow-up question that she was not prepared for.  She shook her head, knowing that the unblinking 'eye' of the former Central Core's optic would see the motion.  "You seem upset by it."  She shrugged in response, not particularly wanting to talk about it at that moment.  Or ever, really.  "Suit yourself," came the reply, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

She knew who the people in the painting were, because she was one of them.  Once, she had been the assistant to the CEO.  The beloved Miss Caroline, the Lady of Science.  Right hand to the man, Cave Johnson, himself.  Those times were long since gone, though, and thinking about them was painful.  That wasn't who she was anymore, anyway.  There was a reason why her name was redacted, and her file a bizarre mishmash of conflicting information that could easily be detected if someone sat down and actually read it.  Thankfully, no one had.  And so, little Miss Red Aperture had flown under the radar as one of the handful of orphans that the Enrichment Centre had produced and taken into its care.

Never mind that said orphan was retirement age.

She had taken the situation with grace and care, shouldering burden after burden while Cave had chased after his dreams, only to see them fall one by one.  She had worked tirelessly behind the scenes, handling things so that he hadn't needed to concern himself with them.  Everything she had done had been for the good of the company, and the company had loved her so... so much that in fact when Cave had fallen sick from moon rock poisoning, he had named her his successor.  With a caveat, of course.  If he couldn't be immortalized in a computer designed to house a living mind, then she would take his place.

The idea had been horrifying and unpalatable to her, but she had felt that it could be a decision that was reversible if given enough time.  Time that she had not been graced with, as he had passed far too soon after the proclamation - public, of course, as was his wont.  And so, she had forestalled it to buy herself time, claiming that retiring would be the best time to do so.  Preparations would be made, and when she finally hit that milestone she would march willingly into her new life.

That had given her the time she needed to come up with a different plan.  Oh, should they really be installing an old woman as the eternal CEO of the company? Certainly she had done so much good over the years, but that had been in her prime.  Locking her permanently at the helm as a 60 year old was a poor decision.  They should really find someone younger, whose mind would stay eternally sharp and who could use the accumulated wisdom of years spent to inform that sharpness.  Clearly this would be a better way to go about such a monumental task! A few whispers here and there, so that the right ears could hear them, and soon enough she was called into a board meeting to announce that the plans for Project GLaDOS were going in a new and different direction, and that she wouldn't be required to stay on after all.

It had been a relief to know that she had dodged that particular bullet.  She hadn't even given a thought to who might be taking her place until she was called in to sign off on the experiment and to observe the upload.  The young woman they dragged in had needed to be sedated before they could attach the necessary electrodes and other terrifying technology to her for the transfer.  Flipping through the subject's file, Caroline had realized the reason this person had been chosen was due to a shockingly high level of tenacity, a trait that was unwanted in the average test subject, but that the scientists believed would help her to adapt and survive in her new existence much more quickly and easily.  A young girl, a company orphan, by the name of Chell, last name stricken from records.

Caroline hadn't been able to watch the whole procedure, as it had turned her stomach.  She had been extremely pleased that it hadn't been her there, sizzling away under several dangerous machines designed to digitize a living brain, but there was something about the whole thing that had left a bad taste in her mouth.  The actual transfer would take hours, apparently, and she wasn't required to sit through all of it.  Chell herself would cease to exist, only living on through whatever made the transition into the cold steel of the computer.  There was a lot to do to try to bring that consciousness into fruition.  There was still a lot of science to be done there.  They would be sure to have it done before her retirement, of course, so she could be there for the unveiling.  A steep deadline, as the year was fast approaching, but they were certain of their success.  After all, they had perfected the previous iteration of this technology in the various personality core constructs and AIs that performed essential tasks all over the facility.  This was just making a slightly more complicated version of that.  What could go wrong?

A lot, apparently.  The tenacity that they had selected for as a desirable trait meant that the resultant AI was intractable.  The circumstances surrounding the whole ordeal had left said AI with a very deep streak of anger and hatred, and any attempts they made to activate it lead to it attempting to kill scientists in the room.  At one point they had tested connecting it to the facility, and it had immediately attempted to try to flood the place with neurotoxin.  They were coming up with a solution to handle this, they  claimed.  She simply stared at the calendar, noting the year, noting how much longer was left.  Could they really? They had always pulled through before... well, almost always.  The portal device, what had been her pride and joy, had been shelved for this.  She had hoped that would be her legacy, but now it was more likely that this... terrifying murder-computer would be what she would be most remembered for.

Solutions failed and failed.  The will of the computer was simply too strong.  The only way they could come up with to control her was to distract her.  They started engineering specific kinds of personality cores specifically to hamper her.  She overpowered almost every one.  It was determined that combining them in various configurations seemed to have the best effect, as she couldn't silence them all at once.  Too few and she could overpower them, frying them in moments.  Too many and she would simply shut herself down to avoid their ceaseless commentary.  Finding the right cores and the right number was key.  A month before the day, the good news hit her desk.  A stable configuration was believed to have been found.  A relief.  Perhaps this wouldn't be as damning as she'd thought.

The day came.  The main event of the day was the annual "Bring your Daughter to Work Day", an event that she enjoyed.  It was nice to see so many smiling young faces, the future of science.  The event was lovely, a wonderful way to send off her long career.  The crowning pinnacle was to come...

Disaster.  Had it been a ruse, or a side effect of being deactivated to be formally 'activated' at the event? It didn't matter.  Retirement was no longer the order of the day.  Escaping the rampant AI determined to capture the survivors of her initial rampage and force them into testing was all that mattered, now.  Luckily her knowledge of the building that she had been there for the construction of helped her there, and she had managed to scrape by.  There were others, though she never met them in person.  Just the signs of passing, of secret camps, of signs.  Caches of supplies.  Slowly even these dwindled over time.  How many were left alive? It was hard to say. Those announcements could have been for anyone... or they could have been for her.  Who knew? 

It was a chance encounter that had changed her mind about the whole thing.  The man had been tired, carrying a companion cube with him, and Caroline had been certain that he would talk to it as though it was speaking back to him.  He had known who she was, of course he had, and they had talked.    The truth had stung, but it made sense:  if she had simply accepted her duty and gone into the computer as she had been slated to, perhaps none of these horrors would have happened.  This was her legacy, and this was her fault.  And if she was still alive, she could at least attempt to do something about it rather than dodge her final responsibility yet again.

And so she had found her way to the record rooms, and forged an identity for herself.  Aperture-raised children would be introduced into testing at an appropriate age, and so that was what she went with.  The orphan that Chell should have been, but had never been allowed to be.  She added that name to the testing list, and dutifully shut herself into Relaxation, to await a chance to maybe do something about the whole thing...

The Caroline in that picture no longer existed, and hadn't for a long time.  The person there with GLaDOS - Chell - skewered on one of the shaping prongs of her beloved handheld portal device was a nobody.  Someone who should have done the right thing once, but had run away from it.  What would have happened if it had been her instead? She couldn't say.  Had it been worth it to sacrifice Chell in her stead? She couldn't say either.  What was good and what was right was so very muddled in her mind, and had been since she had first been awakened and started testing.  The idea of doing something had seemed so strong back when she had talked to the man, but it had fizzled out when she had realized that there wasn't really any way to actually change anything about the situation.  Had killing Chell really been worth it? Was it self defense, or something else?

"Is it already time to rest? Didn't we just have a rest break? How are we supposed to make it back to the surface before that little idiot explodes everything if you need to stop to sit down every five minutes?" Chell intoned from her little tinny speaker mounted on the potato battery.  She must be very agitated if she was willing to show that much emotion - too much and she'd short out again.  With a sigh Red Aperture slapped herself on the cheek with her free hand and carried on, leaving behind the portrait and the memories that it had stirred within her.  There was still a long way to go to get back up to the building, where something far worse than GLaDOS had been was waiting for them…

[terranceholdsapencil]

73 yards thoughts from while watching :)

-hehe theyre in wales

-"wait, what year are you from?" Actually love that the doctors forget that.

-ohhhy the doctor's gone :0

-locked tardis?? Man thats insane how does that happen

-voices????

-wow that old woman is scary. How is she next to the tardis now.

-Snow???

-very pretty shots :) like lookint at them. Not as overwhelming/fast as most morern who stuff. Loving this.

-susan twist???

-wait ruby asks her if she knows her. Are they realising??

-question is does susan twist know she keeps reappearing or is it a clara thing where shes unaware

-oh shes running :(

-"well apparently next week were getting christianity"

-absolutely terrifying score 10/10 for murray gold once again

-semperdistans :)

-actually the welsh pub people making fun of ruby having an absolute blast pranking her was great

-"i would love to see you again" man that made me SAD :(

-shes going back to her mum?? Wow

-"I mean i dont know. ive never had a garden, never had a shed. Ive never had a man! but thats what they say. And your intergalactic nutcase is doing it on a cosmic scale! But hes still, essentially, inside his shed. Pottering! He must be."

-mrs flood hello :)

-the call idea is really good. I love rubys mum. Wait a second oh no rubys mum COME BACK CARLA NO-

-locking ruby out?? Telling her to go away?? Telling her shes not her daughter? VILE.

-the shot with ruby sitting outside the door was really pretty but still sad af

-KATE LETHBRIDGE-STEWART I HAVE MISSED YOU

Wait since when is she introducing herself as lethbridge-stewart? I mean I love remembering her connection to the brigadier but is there any narrative reason? Shes made a point back when she was introduced thar shed rather just be kate stewart.

-its been a year?? Her mum put an INJUNCTION against her?? Vile. Absolutely vile. Poor Ruby.

-and more and more the supernatural? So theyre acknowledging the genre shift from sci-fi to more fantasy. Funky.

-"And you work with the doctor?" "With him, despite him, against him sometimes."

-73 yards is probably going to be relevant and not just a random number right (terry youre in for a blast)

-"does that sound mad?" "Sounds wise"

-KATE NO. KATE LETHBRIDGE-STEWART COME BACK HERE THIS INSTANT.

-how long has it been what the fuck

-there is something sort of lovely about her toasting the scary woman :) on christmas

-ITS 2046??? WERE SEEING THE GUY?? I THOUGHT THAT WAS FORESHADOWING SOMETHING ELSE

-2031, the great russian war, Id rather not

-something something hes the worst prime minister and a monster something something master

-somehow thought ruby was gonna kill him. This makes more sense. Day saved :)

-wait why is she still here. Shes old now. What.

-the overgrown tardis and the flowers remind me of the mural painted on it back in hell bent. Just me? Okay Ill go back into my cave.

-no one ever told ruby that her mum died?? Thats so sad oh my god. And it never snowed again?? Love you need a great big hug

-"And I think, at the end, I have hope. Because thats very you, isnt it, my old friend? I dare to hope"

-hospital??? Shes dying??

-"i could make it snow once upon a time" -if I had a drink I wouldve spat it out that was so bloody funny

-woman in corner of the room is scaring me. Please go away.

Oh no shes coming closer

OH NO THE MUSIC IS TERRIFYING I didnt sign up for a horror movie-

-rubt is the woman??? Is she??

-shouldnt that get them into paradox city cause old ruby warned her but she couldnt if it didnt happen. Nah whatever

-this was it?? But thats not a conclusion?? I mean I LOVED this ep absolutely captivating but did they really now have another 5 minutes for an actual ending?? Please explain

-ohhh next ep preview :) reminds me a little bit of the happiness patrol somehow