#which is a shame considering the amount of time they spend trying to make it happen

[grinchwrapsupreme]

doc martin is just 60% louisa storming over to martin to tell him what an ass he's being and fundamentally misunderstanding him as a person and a doctor and 40% martin doing his job. and sprinkled in between the two is the writers looking into the camera and going "perfect for each other aren't they?" while they wring each others neck'

[januaryembrs]

YOU'RE ALL I EVER WANTED | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [bonus chapter]

Description: The one where you realise you like Spencer.

Length: 6.2k

Warnings: mention of when Penelope got shot, but other than that not much. Mentions of sex + body count though there is NO judgement OR SHAMING. Bugsy could be Bisexual/attracted to women if you choose to read it that way, but you don't have to!

authors note: this little bonus chapter is set the week before Emily 'dies' so right before the final second of Chapter Two. Or you can just read this if you'd like to see two morons dancing around their love for one another. Since I’m uploading today, I realised you needed to read part of this for the next big chapter so that is going to take an extra day or so but it is coming! I hope this satiates the bugspence cravings!!

‘You’re the one, you’re all I ever wanted,

I think I’ll regret this,’

It was warm considering it was one of the last days of Winter, one of the warmest Virginia had in years.

Caseload had been ramped up with the amount of children out on the streets with their friends where any nefarious hands could simply snatch them, or young adults got drunk, or worse, in preparation for Spring Break, their inhibitions lowered to zero making them prime prey. And yet, on a random Saturday at the end of February, the sun peeked out from the dishwater grey clouds, the wind died down, and their phones stayed quiet with the promise of a real day off. 

And how better to spend a day away from their office than to meet their co-workers in the park for a game of soccer. 

“Morgan, quit marking me,” Bugsy yelled, dribbling the ball down the small field they’d commandeered as a pitch, four water bottles stood upright on either end as goal points. But Derek’s laugh was menacing, and she heard his footsteps pounding behind her, advancing on her as if they were kids in a playground, and before long he had swooped in front of her, despite her hand waving out in his direction to shove him away.

Emily was about to call her out for contact, not that she expected her little sister to give a shit, but Derek was too fast for even her where she sat on the side lines with Penelope. The ball went careering away from her, Morgan’s quick feet keeping it under much better control than she’d been able to, even with her hot on his heels, and before long he was shooting to where Aaron stood as goalie, just about rolling it past Hotch’s muscled legs into their goal. 

Derek whooped, Will jogged over from the other end of the pitch to fist bump his team mate as the younger woman huffed, her college jumper and shorts clinging to her sweaty body. 

“Sucks to suck, baby Prentiss,” Morgan jeered, shoving her shoulder lightheartedly when she glared at him, “Guess you owe me that drink, which I will be redeeming at the next convenience-” 

“It’s easy to win when you’re two hundred pounds of muscle and your opponent is a girl who hasn’t done sport since high school,” She snapped, her expression grumpy as she fingered the hem of her fleecy top. Derek chuckled, Will returning to sit with JJ as Henry climbed over her legs wanting to play with her long strands of honey blonde hair. He shoulder bumped the girl, hoping to perk up her mood, but she shoved him back as hard as she could, not that it did much since she’d said herself she was sort of out of shape compared to his rock hard abs. 

“Oh, come on now, Bug, don’t be like that,” He said, unphased when she damn near threw her whole body against his, trying to even knock him in the slightest off his feet, her face screwed up in annoyance. “Bugsy.” Derek tried again, only for her to ignore him and try even harder. He didn’t so much as flinch, “Bugsy, you’re being unreasonable,”

She huffed, drawing away from him and glancing at him with a scathing glare. “Okay, terminator, you won this time but I swear one day I’m going to make you pay for taking advantage of such a fragile little woman like me,” 

Emily scoffed, handing her sister a water bottle, “Didn’t you take down an unsub alone yesterday? I mean you didn’t even have cuffs until Spencer showed up-”

“Oh, whose side are you on?” Bugsy snarled, downing a gulp of water and walking back over to where Spencer and JJ were relaxing on a picnic blanket, the former laying on his back with a book spread open using only one of his spindle-like hands. 

“Good game?” He mused, trying to hide his smirk when she groaned in response, throwing herself down on the grass beside him. She wrestled her sweater over her head which left her in a band tee, her chest still rising with panting breaths as she lay down to his right, glaring at the clear sky. 

“Remind me to never play him in sport ever again. The man is a Spartan Warrior,” She huffed, barely glimpsing to where JJ chuckled at her defeated expression. 

“Did you know that the Spartans were actually banned from the Olympics for some time for violating the peace treaty between Sparta and Athens? But one of their athletes entered a chariot race pretending to represent Thebes, a city above Athens in Boeotia, and only when he won did he announce his true identity,” Spencer asked, his nose still buried in his book like he was reciting the very same information off the page. Bugsy’s lips quirked in interest. 

“That’s pretty cool,” She murmured, head flicking over to him where he glanced back at her, finally ripping his attention away from his novel. She blinked at him, his ‘boy band’ hair as so affectionately named by their unit chief, swooping over his forehead with a few soft, chocolate curls that she moved to fix almost immediately. 

She missed the way his eyes rounded in puppy love as she did so, a camouflaged smile twitching at his lips, an onset reaction of the butterflies that swarmed his chest. 

“I like your hair like this,” She said, even though she’d told him a dozen times already his new hair was dashing, as she’d put it, “It makes your eyes look really pretty,” 

He cleared his throat, his cheeks heating up because he couldn’t handle his reactions when she was so forward, “Really? I always thought they were the colour of dirt,” 

Her mouth dropped open, and she shuffled up onto her elbows so they were similar heights, “Spencer Reid, you take that back right now,” 

“Wow, the government name. I must be in trouble,” He mused, gaze falling to the grass beneath them, dropping his book into his lap even though he felt her annoyance poking holes in his skull.

“They are not the colour of dirt, I’ve never heard something so ridiculous,” She scoffed, nudging him with the back of her hand in a soft chide and he snickered, looking back up to where she was staring him straight in the muddy hues of his very plain hazel eyes. “They’re like, they’re like-” She tried to come up with an answer, squinting in the soft sunlight that turned the brown shades into liquid honey running off a spoon, her face  leaning towards his to catch a closer look at the exact pigment of them, “They’re like looking up at a forest on a Summer’s morning, you know? Like when you can see every single one of the leaves because of the light,” 

He nodded wordlessly, because no one had ever said something quite so poetic about any part of him before. He fought the urge to look away, wasn’t sure he could even if he tried because for a second they were both in a trance, dissecting the other’s gaze like they were imprinting their colour palettes to memory. 

“Buggy!” Her head whipped away from him as the blonde headed child came running over to her as fast as his chubby little legs would carry him. He launched himself at her stomach, and her hands quickly caught him before he could wind her, his cheeks rosy behind his bumble bee pacifier. She giggled as he slid down her side, his knees staining with grass as he reached muddy hands out for her face. 

“Woah, not so fast mister. Who knows where these grubby little paws have been,” She teased, and he laughed behind the plastic sucker, his bluebell eyes a near match of JJ’s blinking over at her. 

Spencer watched her and his godson with besotted eyes, imagining for a split second what she might be like as a mother, if she ever chose to be. He knew she would be soft and yet not lose one drop of the Bugsy playfulness he cherished, just instead parting everything that made her extraordinary onto a mini her. 

He saw it, like a flicker of a dream, like deja vu, a girl with her hair, her skin, her smile; the one that was impish and guilty like she had a secret, giggling behind a ladybug dummy the way Henry was doing when she forced his dirty hands together to clap; “Clap your hands if you smell like fairy farts- Henry!” 

The child laughed harder, so hard his pacifier dropped out his mouth with a little dribble, his milk teeth pearly with and tiny in the sun. His chest seized with giggles, his face turning pink as he panted to catch his breath, “You’re so silly, Buggy,”  

JJ swooped in to grab his dummy, giving his hands a quick once over with a baby wipe and packing the sucker back into his bag. Henry’s gaze quickly slid up his mother’s arm to where she lingered over his pack, and he was eager to make himself comfortable leaning against Bugsy’s stomach, legs stretching out onto the blankets, his shoes brushing against Spencer’s trouser leg. 

“Juice, mama!” He shouted, his little voice sweet knowing just how to wrap everyone around his pinky finger, “Juice and Bi’kits!”

“What do we say, Henry?” Will reminded gently, holding the Ben 10 satchel open while his partner rooted around the bottom of it with a loving smile. 

“Please, juice and bi’kits,” The boy replied politely, his feet knocking together out of excitement when JJ produced two red pouches and animal shaped cookies. Stepping over where Spence lay sprawled out, watching Bugsy idly stroking over the back of his godson’s white blonde curls, JJ handed the two of them a drink and snack each, Bugsy’s eyes flying up to the woman in interest. 

“For me?” She asked dumbly, wondering if she was to give the second helping to the boy once he’d finished his first or if it really was hers.

JJ shrugged, moving back over to sit beside Will where he wrapped a lazy arm around her waist, squeezing her gently, “I always pack extra for the other kids,” 

Bug’s face flattened into something unamused as Henry handed Spencer his juice pouch for him to push the straw in, “I’m twenty six, I’m not a kid,” She grouched, ripping open the packet of biscuits and shoving a lion in her mouth, “God, whoever invented these animal shaped pals is genius. Like, why does everything taste so much better when it looks like a monkey smiling up at me?” 

The three of them chuckled at her, Emily and Penelope starting up a new game of soccer with Hotch and Derek, David reffing from the sideline. Penelope was ofcourse with Morgan, looking a little pale where she stood in goal, as Emily ran at her in full force with the ball skipping between her feet.

Spence handed the drink back to the boy, picking his book back up as the two of them crunched on their goodies happily. 

“Story time, Uncle Spencer,” Henry demanded, pointing to the copy of War and Peace in between bites of a zebra cookie. 

And instead of telling his godson that he would almost certainly hate the complex, adult writing of Leo Tolstoy, Spencer smiled down at him, feeling Bugsy’s eyes roving over his face.

“Yeah, storytime, Uncle Spencer,” She jeered, her elbow getting dirty where it dug into the grass as she rolled onto her side to watch him properly, “Never too early to teach the kids about French invasions,” 

Flicking her a smirk, he cleared his throat theatrically, and pretended to read from his book, “Charlotte’s Web by E. B. White,” 

“That’s a real magic book you got there, Spence,” The woman snickered, and he smiled into the pages, not daring himself to look at the devilish look she had on her face. 

“Chapter One; Before Breakfast,” Spencer ‘read’ clearly, his memory still clear as a bell when his mother had read it to him when he was five, “‘Where’s papa going with that axe?’ said Fern to her mother as they were setting the table for breakfast,” 

Bugsy felt Henry’s head slump against her hip, the boy slurping on his juice pouch happily as she punctured a hole in her own carton to take a sip, the two of them listening intently to Spencer recounting the children’s book to a scary degree of accuracy. 

His slender arms looked good with his sleeves rolled to his elbow, she thought offhandedly, his right elbow taking the brunt of his weight as he leaned on it, the other flicking through the Tolstoy novel as if it were the real thing, his long fingers splayed out on the back of the book to keep it open. His eyes kept darting up over the top of the page to see if they were both still listening, which they were, though Bugsy suspected Henry was starting to get tired as his head felt heavy against her skin. 

Propping her head on her hand, her eyes scanned over the profile of his face. She’d always known he was attractive, ever since she opened her dorm room door at John Hopkins and saw him and Morgan waiting for her. Her stomach twisted thinking about how long ago that seemed, that she couldn’t remember quite what her world had centred around when it had just been her at college; her mother and father were distant as ever, her sister was a stranger that had all but raised her, boys were just a passing face if she ever let them through her door. She’d had her books and maybe two friends, acquaintances would probably be the better term, and her coffee. And that seemed to have been enough, or at least it was enough that she couldn’t outright complain about how lonely she felt.  

And then she met Spencer. And that feeling had disapparated entirely.

Her heart swelled when she looked at him, recounting the beginning of chapter two by now, his forest hues glancing up at Henry’s sleepy, round eyes that watched him in interest. She thought for a moment that whoever his kid was going to be was going to be the luckiest boy in the world. She let herself imagine a boy Henry’s age already devouring books twice his reading age, one with wild, almond curls he’d let grow around his neck like JJ did with Henry’s. She imagined how he would sit him on his lap and let him read the books for himself, so that if he got stuck his dad would be right there to help him behind a proud smile. Spencer; a father. She realised how out of field the thought was before she shook it out of her head, though it had planted itself right in her hypothalamus the second she’d seen the vision of it. 

A small smile twitched at her lips, a warmth in the pit of her stomach flickering as she sipped the juice, giggling when Spencer changed his tone slightly so Henry knew someone new was speaking, seemingly enjoying the book almost as much as his audience was. His eyes snapped to her when he heard her, a devious little smile creeping up his lips like they shared the same thought. She wished she could do this every day, lay on picnic blankets and listen to him read, his voice was heavenly, and she thought she might never get tired of hearing him tell her things. 

Every part of her was consumed when she thought of him like this. It had happened once or twice, like when she’d driven him home from the doctors after they’d cleared his MRI’s, when she’d held his head in her lap on his couch and stroked his scalp, a cold compress over his eyes because his head writhed with a pain he couldn’t squash out. When she’d heard his soft snores as he finally dropped off to sleep and she allowed herself to look at his resting face, perhaps even more angelic than usual, a small indent right between his brows where his expression had been scrunched in discomfort for weeks, one she smoothed over with the soft pad of her thumb. She’d felt something then, like her whole body was full to the brim of him, her chest spasming with a feeling like she was coming down with a cold but one that made her feel good, but she’d brushed it off as seeing him vulnerable and soft compared to the quick as a whip FBI agent she was used to these days. She’d do just about anything for him, anything to make him feel better, anything to just make him happy.

Or when they’d eat breakfast together at his desk, her chair rolled up beside his as they sat together, taking it in turns to do crossword puzzles together because they realised they got competitive when they were allowed to answer all of them at the same time, and Bugsy did not like losing. There had been one morning when they’d descended into madness because they were both trying to write the answers as fast as possible, their hands smashing together over the boxes, her hand shoving his lithe body away as he had called her a cheater through red cheeked laughter. Rossi had confiscated the paper when things had gotten too physical and she’d pulled the lever beneath his chair, lowering his seat quick enough he nearly slipped right out. His coffee spilled all over his desk as his arm flew out to grab his desk, and the sight alone made her laugh so hard she almost peed. He’d pretended to be annoyed at her for all of two minutes as they cleaned up the mess together, but he too had found himself laughing hard enough he was almost in tears because she could barely get two words out without creasing over and holding her stomach in aching barks of noise, the two of them leaning against one another for support. She thought then, if she had breakfast with him every day, whether it be with quizzes or coffee or even a plain bowl of oatmeal, she’d wake up every day happy. 

And she thought it then, her heart swelling fat enough to burst as he looked up at her over the top of the leather binding again. Even in the split second he did so her skin had turned to gooseflesh, like he’d grabbed her at her soul and squeezed her whole being affectionately. And it was like she remembered every time he’d made her feel like that, times she thought of it as the fact a girl who received little to no attention growing up was of course going to revel under the gaze of an attractive man with a heart sweeter than cotton candy, it was just psychology. One big Freudian-slip of nonsense. At least that was what she shoved it off as. 

But looking at him, his hands big enough to grab her face whole, his body long and lithe as he spread out on the blanket, his hair falling so delicately, his tone soft and pandering to the little boy who was dropping off to sleep against her stomach. His whole essence was so Spencer it made her feel at home, like this was what she was created to do, feeling so fulfilled sat with him sipping on a juice pouch as he read to her she could die tomorrow and feel accomplished for only twenty six years. 

She knew in her gut that wasn’t what friends felt for each other; the thought creeping up her spine and over her shoulder like a virus that seized her brain as its own, her expression unwavering as she watched him with adoring eyes. 

She knew it was wrong, but with him she felt worth something. She felt complete. Like she had everything she ever needed, everything she’d ever wanted on the nights loneliness had snuck in and she’d felt like no one would ever understand how the muddied water of her mind worked. 

But he did. He always had. 

And it was like she heard a screech in a track record as it came to a stop, her head working overtime with the thought of it. 

She bit her lip in guilt, as he continued reading, hoping she wouldn’t ever ruin whatever it was that she’d felt, because she might not ever be able to forgive herself if she did. 

–

“It’s over one and below a hundred, and that’s all you’re getting,” Bugsy said with a teasing smile, her fingers resting on the rim of a very sweet Cosmo, as Penelope and Derek sat opposite them, Spencer to her right with a beer on one of the few times she’d ever seen him drink. But it had been a good day, and what would be the harm in topping off the day with a cold beverage, “Besides, it doesn’t matter anyway, it’s not like they meant much,” 

“We know it doesn’t matter, baby Prentiss, we’re just being nosey,” Derek chimed, his fingers wrapped around his own bottle of beer, courtesy of Bugsy which she had paid for with a grumble, a tipsy glint in his dark eyes. 

It was just the four of them this evening. Will and JJ had taken a sleeping Henry home so they could spend some rare time together seeing as their son was entirely knocked out. Hotch had taken Emily home after David had given her a red card for trying to tackle both Aaron and Derek multiple times during their game, because apparently competitiveness ran in the family. He had tried to gently remind her Aaron was also on her team, but had received a glare that would make any agent cower, and Hotch had suggested maybe it would be best if they got her home rather than fill her with alcohol. 

Rossi had excused himself home after hearing the colourful things the oldest Prentiss woman called him in Italian, likely contemplating if she meant any of the threats she was making. 

“Any guy would be lucky to make it to your magic number, honey bee,” Penelope added, her pastel painted lipstick making a cute rim on the straw to her own Margarita, “Or girl! Any girl would be too,”

Bugsy shied away at that, blanking for perhaps the first time because the whole topic of her romantic endeavours was suddenly embarrassing when Spencer was sat right beside her. She had spoken to them before about her college days, and had never once made an effort to hide the fact she knew she had a charm about her that meant she usually could take someone home if she wanted them. 

So why was it suddenly so difficult to admit in front of Spencer? She knew why, she knew why every single one of them suddenly felt miniscule in the grand scheme of things because they hadn’t meant much to her, not when he was sitting boring holes into the side of her head with an unusually tight expression. 

“What does it matter if there were girls, none of them really meant much,” She brushed them off, her face heating up when she finally looked at Spencer, his long fingers picking at the label on his beer with a tight lipped smile.

“We’re just teasing, Bug, there’s nothing wrong with any number you could give us. Besides, I guarantee mine is higher than yours,” Derek reassured, squeezing her wrist gently, his eyes sliding to where Spencer seemed to be trying to avoid all eye contact like he wanted the seat to swallow him whole, “Same with you, Kid, there’s no judgement at this table, we’re all human,” 

“I bet you were a real ladies man by that third doctorate,” Bugsy teased, nudging his shoulder with her own because she hated when he went quiet. 

He looked at her like he was expecting her to be cruel, except she didn’t look it, not one bit, instead she seemed a little skittish, no doubt from having the spotlight on her. “What makes you say that?” 

She bristled, “I mean, come on, Spence, you’re very good looking, you’re the smartest person I know, you’re funny and there’s like not a single bad bone in your entire body,” She said, becoming increasingly aware of the weight of her words the more she spoke. But it was like the cocktail had loosened her lips, had made it seem entirely normal to essentially tell him how lucky a girl would be to date him, how she had thought about all the reasons she would find him a worthy sexual partner. She watched him blush, granting her a flustered smile, and she looked to Penelope desperately for help, “Pen, would you tell him?”

“She has a point, Reid. You are the full package,” Penelope conceded, her smile illuminating the whole bar as she reached over to hold both their hands in hers, “It’s a shame you’re both strongly planted in the friend zone otherwise the four of us could have really been something beautiful,” 

They all chuckled, Bugsy shaking her head and leaning against Spencer’s side when he seemed to ease up, just to remind him she had meant no harm by what she said. In fact, she’d meant entirely the opposite.  

She felt his hand lean under the table to squeeze her knee, because he knew what she was thinking, and she felt herself relax at the feel of his touch. 

“Alright, here’s a question; winner gets a free shot on the next round. What was your worst date?” Morgan poked, noticing how the two youngest agents seemed to scooch towards one another almost as if they hadn’t realised, as if they were working off their own orbit, until they were pressed right up against one another, their elbows brushing against one another, “Doesn’t have to be sexual, could just be bad table manners,” 

“I haven’t really been on a date before,” Spencer tried to weasel his way out of the question, Bugsy’s head whipping to him in surprise, “There was that one time I met that girl Austin for coffee, but that was pretty great,”

She bit her cheek in annoyance. She’d forgotten about Austin, the bartender that she’d told Spencer to go after, because she was so sure that a good looking doctor like him deserved someone kind and attractive like Austin had been. She remembered how she’d seen her ocean blue eyes roving over her friend, how at the time it hadn’t meant much to her, because she couldn’t really blame her for thinking he was hot, how now it stirred something in her tummy that she feared felt like jealousy. 

She dared herself to stop the bombarding thoughts of what ‘pretty great’ entailed exactly, and busied her face by looking to Morgan for his turn. 

“My man,” Derek said with a wicked grin on his face, watching Spencer cower away from the attention though there was something guiltily proud in the smirk that grew on his face that said Spencer was somewhat pleased with his answer. In the scheme of things, he’d gotten lucky, pun intended. The only woman to ever say yes to a date with him had been sweet, even if he’d quickly made it clear he wasn’t looking for anything more with her, and even then she’d been understanding. 

“Your turn, Morgan,” Bugsy reminded, trying to be as cool as possible despite the fact her stomach felt flipped upside down at the sound of a woman she hadn’t thought about in two whole years. She didn’t know what had gotten her so territorial in a matter of seconds, but she hated every moment of it. 

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know ladies, that someone has in fact put Derek Morgan in his place before,” Derek said, with a clap of his hands, and Bugsy and Penelope shared an amused eye roll. 

“Who knows how big your ego might be if this goddess among women hadn’t acted when she did,” Bugsy drawled, Penelope giggling into her lime wedge as Derek laid a hand on his chest in faux hurt. 

“I’m telling you, I’m a changed man. I tasted my own medicine, Sugar, and it was bitter,” He said melodramatically, and even Spencer shook his head with a laugh, because Derek was a diva when he’d had a few to drink. “We go out to a lovely restaurant, I pay ofcourse, being the gentleman I am, and then we decide to go for some drinks after to round the evening off,”

“Any girl's dream come true,” Penelope jumped in, giggling when Derek wrapped an arm around her shoulder, like they were on a date themselves. 

“That was exactly my thoughts, babygirl.” Derek flirted, taking a swig of his beer, “Anyway, I maybe have a little too much of the good stuff, nothing particularly worrying. We’re laughing, we’re vibing, and then we go back to my place,” 

“Here we go, the real good stuff,” Bugsy chimed in, nudging Spencer with her elbow as the two of them snickered like tweedle dum and tweedle dee. “Fifty Shades of Morgan,”

“Pipe down, lover girl,”  Derek barked through laughter, Penelope barely making it through a sip of her own drink without smiling, “So as I was saying, I’m feeling a little worse for wear, she’s a little drunk too, so we move past it, and then we get to my room,”

“Bow chick a wow wow,” Bugsy sang teasingly, to which Spencer chuckled and taking a sip of his own drink. 

“Well, you would think, honey bee, since I am known to the women for my experiences in bed, some may call electric,” Derek slurred, holding her hand gently over the table to which she laughed even harder. 

“Huh, I must have missed that email,” She teased back, taking a long final sip of the dregs of her drink. 

“You wound me,” He replied, shaking his head, and turning to look at Penelope seriously, like he was sat in a confession booth, “So anyway, we’re in my room, about to get jiggy with it, only when I take my boxers off I find my soldier is sort of-” He paused, swallowing and looking at Spencer’s red face where he was trying desperately not to break, “You know. Unable to stand to attention,” 

Bugsy spat her drink across the table, the action alone making Penelope laugh so hard tears sprang to her eyes, the younger girl coughing as she choked on her drink, and Spencer patted her on the back until she reclaimed some composure. 

“Oh, god,” She gasped, her hand thumping her chest as she tried desperately to get a hold of herself in between the loud cries of glee and winding herself, “Derek-”

“Hey, laugh it up, Bug, it worked out alright in the end. Our second date really was electric,” He replied with a smug smile, as the girl finally caught a breath, her lash line watering with tears as she grabbed for some napkins on the table to clear up her mess. 

“If you say so,” She said, her voice croaking as Spencer offered her a sip of his drink to wash her throat out. She took a small mouthful of beer, handing the bottle back to him with a grateful smile, and she tried no to think about the fact that germ wise, they had essentially just kissed. 

“Your turn,” Spencer said, something amused in his eyes as she looked at him somewhat betrayed, “What’s been your worst date?” 

She sighed, wiping beneath her eyes with her sleeve, “If you must know, and because I really do want that shot,”  She started, clearing her throat one final time, “I was seeing this guy in New York over Spring break, Sean something,” 

“Sean something?” Derek asked, “You didn’t know his last name?” 

She shrugged, fighting the urge to crawl into a small ball of embarrassment because surely what Morgan said had set the bar for judgement high, “We didn’t exactly do much talking when we saw each other,” 

Spencer hid his frustration in a fake smile, though one look at his furrowed brow would have given him away instantly. Luckily, they had their eyes on her long enough they didn’t catch a glimpse of his expression. It wasn’t that he would ever think less of her for being with someone else, who wouldn’t want her, but hearing about it made his inside boil with jealousy he didn’t even know he would have ever felt. 

“Anyway. I felt like a change of scenery and my mother was bothering me for a lunch date since she was in New York for the month, so I took him and two of his friends out to Italy for a long weekend,” She went on, ripping up a napkin for something to do while she spoke, and she felt Penelope staring at her agog. 

“You took a casual fling to Italy for a change of scenery?” The bubbly woman asked, her mouth dropped in shock, “Can I sleep with you?” 

Derek laughed, and Spencer went bright red when he jumped to ask the same question though he knew it was entirely coarse. Maybe it was the beer loosening his tongue, or maybe it was the fact he wondered what the two of them sitting in a sunny vineyard like a rich old couple would look like, he wasn’t sure. 

“Play your cards right, Princess,” Bugsy teased, clearing her throat to continue, “Anyway. We’re there for two days and the final evening Sean and I get into a bit of a disagreement over something dumb; I think him and his friends were being too loud and we were getting complaints. Anyway, we kiss and make up for the evening, we go out to a club. We go back to the hotel, get jiggy with it as you put it, and when I woke up the next day, the bastard had taken the bag with all our boarding passes and came back to America with his friends without even waking me up.”

Their mouths fell open, Spencer’s brows shooting into his hairline in worry, “That sounds awful, Bug,”

She shrugged again, messing with the pile of ripped up paper she’d created, “It’s nothing. I spoke the language so I got by okay, and luckily I kept all my cash in my purse so I hitched a ride to the airport and got on the next plane, except the only available one landed me in California so I had to wait for a transfer over to Baltimore. By the time I got back, his roommate said he was with some other girl,”

“What an asshole,” Derek said, shaking his head as he said so, but Bugsy raised her shoulders again. 

“I really know how to pick them,” She said, swirling her lime piece around the bottom of her glass, “Anyway, the hotel staff felt bad for me and gave me a free bottle of Pinot Noir on them so it didn’t work out all bad,” 

Sensing it was somewhat of a sticky subject, Penelope jumped in with her usual wit, “As much as I would love to give you the shot, buttercup, this gal took a bullet on her last bad date so I will be collecting that prize if it’s all the same to you,” She said, her bubbly attitude quickly throwing metaphorical glitter over the subject, collecting Bugsy's empty glass and her own together as her and Morgan moved to shuffle out of the table for another round. 

Bugsy’s eyes widened, “What?” She stopped, and she looked at Spencer to see if they were playing some sort of joke on her only to see him unsurprised, “What!?” 

“I’ll tell you about it some other time, sweet cheeks. Right now I have a tequila, salt and lime with my name written all over it,” Penelope chirped, waltzing up to the bar with her muscle two paces behind her as he drew out his wallet to put down for the next round of drinks. 

“Well, I suddenly feel like an asshole for complaining about being left in a nice hotel alone,” Bugsy said, her head resting on her hand as she looked over at Spencer who ran his finger over the emerald green bottle. 

He snorted, “Tell me about it, I said that my last date went wonderfully,” 

They met eyes in the dark lowlights of the bar and shared an amused grin, like they knew it was cynical for them to laugh except they really did feel like morons for complaining about how bad they had it when Penelope had all but joked about her situation. 

“I am sorry that happened to you, though,” Spencer said, his hand creeping over the leather seat to where hers sat on her thigh, “That must have been really scary. Why didn’t you call Emily?” 

Bugsy’s face tensed, “We weren’t really speaking then, and I knew if I told her or my mother I’d get the same lecture about being irresponsible and careless. I think I thought I’d rather do it alone,” 

Spencer pouted, braving enough to move his hand up to take hers in his own. Maybe it was the second bottle of low percent beer, or maybe it was because she’d flickered with something genuinely saddened when she’d said it, and Spencer thought that in every  instance of her story she’d had little to no one to turn to for help.

She had been alone, and the thought of it crushed him. 

He grabbed her hand, her head snapping to him and praying she didn’t find pity there because she hated that. Except she just saw him, those mossy eyes looking rounder and more lovely than ever when she regarded him. 

“You don’t have to feel alone ever again, you know that right?” He asked earnestly, giving her fingers a little squeeze, and she felt her tummy do that stupid turn all over again. It was like she had an upset stomach except that was a complete antonym of what it was, like her stomach was so unbelievably overjoyed that she could barely even hold it together without wanting to ask him what it was he had done to suddenly turn her into some sort of feral creature for every little movement he made. 

Except there wasn’t just one thing, it was everything about him. Everything. 

She smiled at him, more bashful than she had ever felt for him, and against her own instincts she slipped her fingers in between his own so they had their every digit laced together, and it was suddenly so much bigger than two friends chatting in a bar. 

She knew it then, felt it realer than ever, like a stop sign slapping her clean across the face and shattering every bone in her skull. 

She just hoped she wouldn’t regret it. 

-

@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions @the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @spicyspirit @mywellspringoflife @lovelyygirl8 @pleasantwitchgarden @star-girl-interlud3

@rosylnsworld @jamieolivia27 @halcyonwithletters @waywardhunter95 @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @theoraekenslover r @niktwazny303 @bliindmattmurdock @alyeskathewave @littlemadamred @yondiii @cultish-corner @lllucere @escapismurmom @stillhere197 @hiireadstuff @amortencjja @queermaxwooo @telengraph @ivyflowers13 @estrela-rogers @greenvita @busy-buzzing @kitty-kei @universallyblizzardlove @suckstobrlaurie @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @splatteredpurplepaint @pieceuvmind

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Tim gets deaged which usually wouldn't be too much of a problem considering he still has his adult mind in tact. No. The problem is that there was a child who was the same age as deaged Tim and who looks suspiciously just like him.

Oh. And they somehow got swapped.

Now Tim is stuck trying to figure out who and what Phantom is and what dimension his "lair" is in so he can escape. Tim briefly considered just talking to Phantom and explaining things (with some omissions obviously) but after seeing his eyes flash an eerily familiar green he had frozen. It didn't help that Phantom was doting and scarily overprotective of his children. Some robotic rogue with a flaming green mohawk had threatened to harm them while they were out in the stroller and Phantom took off his head with ruthless cruelty. Tim wasn't taking his chances with a bad reaction so he has more or less resigned himself to living life as a one year old along side his "twin" until he can escape.

Meanwhile Danny is getting more and more concerned that the personality of one of his kids has changed. He had been a happy and bubbly baby until he suddenly became quiet and withdrawn. Had his kid been traumatized somehow? He watches them sleep together in thier crib and wonders...

Meanwhile the bats are cooing over baby "Tim" and doing all sorts of baby activities appropriate for a one year old. The sheer amount of baby clothes everyone buys is ludicrous and I greater theres at least three Nightwing themed outfits in the pile. At least.

Damian becomes jealous of all the time people are spending with "Tim" (especially grayson) and bullys the baby for it all the while causing the baby to cry and Damian to be scolded, which only fuels his ire.

After a week of this the bats confront the person who made the device that deaged RR and found out that Tims mind should not have reverted back to a child, only his body. Damian feels victorious and claims his brother must have been faking the entire time and confront "Tim" about it...but "Tim" doesn't change his behavior. He still acts like a normal baby.

After a while of this they decide to run a dna test just to be sure. The DNA test comes back positive...on half. This shocks everyone. They run the test several more times and have to come to terms with the fact that not only is Tim out there somewhere in the body of a defenseless 1 year old baby, but they somehow got his (future?) son with them instead.

Damian has to come to terms with the fact his been bullying a litteral infant this entire time and the shame that comes with that. (It wasn't any better when you thought it was a baby Tim and Jason points that out) Damian does some self reflection and tries to make amends.

[zombieplaygrounds]

cw: virgin men, masturbation, sexual fantasies, implied age gaps, implied inexperienced sexual relationships, oral sex, masturbation, whats the thing where you get caught jerkin it? that.

Everyone loves virgin! Simon who's unknowingly a sex god while he bullies a fat cock into your horny cunt. Huffing and puffing in your ear as he asks you how good you feel, accidentally overstimulating you but far too clueless to even consider that your shaking and trembling is related to how dumb he fucked you. 'Course, he was just trying to be sweet to you, maybe get some coffee if you hadn't jumped on him for a good ride on his meat.

Even virgin! König had a considerable amount of attention for his monstrous cock that he'd never be able to fully fill you with. Too much of a jock-ish idiot to even know where to begin with foreplay, just rams his fingers up your cunt until you're sore and bucking your own hips against his palm to help smear your sloppy juices down his wrist. Every single "do you feel good?" is followed by your crying whines for him to shut the fuck up and keep stroking his own cock. Eyes wide watching pearl tears drizzle from the angry tip.

But where do I, the writer, draw the line? Virgin! Price. Old bastard aged like fine wine, his values held to something much more conservative - planned to spend his first time with a beautiful woman he dressed in pretty white silk on her wedding day. Someone who made his heart throb passionately; not with lust and the greedy desire to consume and ravage away her beauty.

Ideally, a woman to grow a family with.

Of course, considering his job, the risks his simple existence poses on any of those close to him - he cowered. Though, Price never really did see a true need to focus on that one, simple wish. He was satisfied with his 141, a group of rebellious young men he considered his own children; he was satisfied with his rare takes of leave, where he spent his time hiking and hunting, occasionally catching up with old friends from his civilian life; most importantly, Price was content.

Was.

A past tense term, considering his "ideals" of what made life so damn tolerable were thrown out the window. Shattered into billions of pieces that painted maps around the single coffee mug that was left on his desk one early morning. A note in your handwriting, with the coffee made just exactly as he liked it, and maybe even a small pastry from the vending machine - a pastry which was his favorite. Usually one that was hard to get because it was so damn good. And the note?

Have a good day, Cap'n! Love ya! btw, this is your favorite, yeah?

Fuck. You were too cruel. You and your pretty handwriting, smudged in blue gel pen ink. It was cute, sweet, endearing from a young thing like you. Made him feel sick and perverse, adjust the tightness that began around his crotch - because it felt so fucking dirty to be some turned on by a kind gesture. Especially a gesture from something as sweet and innocent looking as you.

All of those thoughts in his mind brought to a painful, stirring silence. Price would've almost felt shame for his next actions, the somehow graphic act of taking a huff of the sweetly scented drink made just for himself by you. The smearing of his finger tips against the note and getting a faint whiff of your sweet scented hand cream, the one you keep in the staff fridge, bitching at anyone who touches at it (something he was personally victim to).

The gentle, candied scent was enough to make his cock stir; rub against the rough fabric of his boxers, through his pants, through to his palm that somehow assisted in a slow, grinding motion against his self. His hand tilting backwards, eyes rolling back. Was the door locked? He wondered, not bothering to even give himself a glance at the knob to see if the slit was tilted horizontally or vertically; none of it mattered, too consumed by the peak edge he needed.

Too consumed by filthy, tainted thoughts of you. Your lips smeared in his own milk white sperm, no doubt still virile despite his years of maturity; wondered if his load would take if you just gave him the chance. Wondered if you'd pant, or moan his name. If your cunt dripped or creamed around his throbbing cock; what he'd kill to see your entire body trembling from a few bounces against him. Shove his calloused fingers into that pretty mouth of yours, begging you to be silent, and good.

You would be his first and final; a crossing thought that blurred past his mind. And the thought of putting a pretty jewel on that little ring finger of yours made him audibly gasp, sweat droplets splatter down from his cheek to his chin. And you, you're so young, full of potential. A real energetic pup that would probably eagerly teach him all the ways to make you feel good.

By now, Price was roughly, almost brutishly, fisting his own cock. Panting and hunched over the pretty note made by pretty you. His eyes squeezed shut as he bit into his fist, trembling at the splattering liquid that filled his palm. Droplets hitting the floor beneath him, a mess that would be so fucking frustrating to clean; the last thought on his mind.

Because how could he focus when you stood at the other side of the desk, a palm on either side as you leaned forward. So softly whispering: "Cap'n, did you like the coffee that much?"

Virgin! Price, who gives you the honor of being the first missus to wrap a warm mouth and plump lips against the tip of cock, kitten licks to clean away pearly beads of arousal that dribbled down the shaft. His clean hand rubbing your scalp so gently, humming soft, purring coos; mentally pondering your ring size as you greedily fit him inside your mouth. Whining vibrations fading the thought away once again.

tagging my fwends: @yandere-kokeshi @kettlemouse @babybimbo777

[celestoria]

Tags: Praise, Dacryphillia, Fingering, Alcohol

A/n: there seems to be a problem so i can’t tag you. So sorry about that. Also I love the Doppio pfp HAHA. He’s also one of my favorites next to Mysta Rias and Ver Vermillion.

Do not interact if you are 17 or below (17+)

Rumors are a hit or miss. With your rising fame, you were no stranger to that common knowledge and the eyes of the media. Currently, recent speculations say that you’ve been secretly dating another famous idol, Dan Heng. It wasn't far-fetched from reality, but sadly they’ve got it all wrong.

Scandalous as it seems, you were simply just fuck buddies.

Now and then you’d visit the other’s condo and spend the night, only to sneakily leave the next morning, trying not to stir up the paparazzi. However, from what it seems, you weren’t that successful with it. You didn’t mind it. As long as you don’t fan the flame by answering their questions and trying to be more careful next time, you’re sure all of it will subside once the next entertainment industry gossip emerges. As for now, all you could do is savor your secret rendezvous with Dan Heng.

After a little celebration over some wine and desserts for your album, Dan Heng was suddenly on top of you, tipsy and his clothes disheveled. Hickies colored your collarbone and a tight grip held onto your thigh before his hands slithered to your clothed cunt, soaking from anticipation.

“You’ve been doing so great,” he panted and went closer to your ear. “It’s a shame I haven’t given you a gift, hm?”

His hand hooked onto your laed panties to pull it down and he sank a single finger deep in you as his thumb circled on your clit, leaving you to moan out his name. He rhythmically pressed on your g-spot, making your back arch and your head press down on the soft pillow cushions. Dan Heng always loved it when he knew he was making you feel good, but he wonders how far “good” takes you before you scream over and over again.

He dipped another finger inside you, your walls slightly expanding before tightly clasping around him once more.

Your pussy was already so wet from his hands alone. Slick thickly coating him and squelching sounds mixed in with the provocative mewls that you can never seem to contain when he’s touching you like this.

You came one orgasm after the other, your legs starting to feel a little weak and a pool of your mess starting to form on your leather couch. It’s as if he brought heaven to you and he has no intentions of stopping until he is satisfied with spoiling you after your big success.

“Dan Heng,” you cried. “I’m not sure if I could take it anymore,” you replied, tears flooding the side of your eyes.

The man hushed. “Don’t doubt yourself. I know you could handle more,” he replied as a third digit started to lightly probe your entrance.

Long, painted nails dug down on him until his skin almost bled out when Dan Heng’s drunken thoughts won which convinced him to make all three fingers frantically toy within you. You were lucky with how long Dan Heng prepped you for this, but it was your first time taking such a large amount at once. You never even considered doing such during lonely nights when you wished he was right by your side.

“Ah, it’s too much,” you cried, your hips moving backward. The little droplets of tears turned into streams that rushed down your mascara-stained cheeks.

“You’re so pretty when you cry, you know that,” he mumbled, picking up his pace.

Soon after, your voice hitched and your eyes rolled back. You came so much tonight, your lower half was so numb despite the apparent quivering. Dan Heng’s fingers slowly left you, making you feel like an empty hold has been carved out of you yet you were relieved that it was all over.

The man remained laying on top of you, clearly licking his fingers. The flavors of your slick mix in with the aftertaste of wine that can’t seem to leave his mouth. He was already a little tipsy when he started out pleasuring you but he ended up being so intoxicated by your love. His other hand brushed through your hair. “Good girl,” he muttered.

You’ve received many gifts after your massive success, but this one might be the one that would leave you with the most lasting impression yet.

[cannebady]

who are we to fight the alchemy

They've been taking it slow, which Blitz knows is necessary but also feels so fucking stupid considering they've had their tongues inside each other probably hundreds of times over the span of their agreement.

But after a truly spectacular round of competitive communication issues, they've settled on wanting to be something and in order for that to happen, apparently, both Stolas and Blitz have to spend some time with the heads on their shoulders calling the shots.

Based on Stolas's encyclopedic knowledge of all things shitty romance, "It's the proper way of doing things," and while Blitz couldn't give less of a single fuck about proper, he gives a nonzero amount of fucks (one might say a fuckton, in fact) about Stolas, so they've been courting or fucking dating or whatever and definitely not doing any kind of fucking.

It's gotta be at least partially karmic considering how often Blitz complained about fucking the bird. In all honesty he'd loved almost every second of that aside from the feeling like a plaything bullshit and it's fucking fantastic feeling seen and wanted and shit, but also so fucking hard (seriously, very. Fucking. Hard.) to be so close and unable to touch, and lick, and, well. Ugh.

Otherwise, though, it's been kind of nice. They have dinner a few times a week, and Stolas will bring him an iced coffee and lunch at IMP and then Blitz will take him to a shitty bar with M&M. It's fucking nice okay? He's never had nice before and now, suddenly, he gets long conversations about nothing and everything, and holding hands and fuck, okay, he's in love like a little bitch. It's just that Blitz just also kind of wants to fuck, ya know?

He feels a little like a dirtbag because Stolas is holding it together so fucking well. Based on his initial impression (and hands on experience) of Stolas as His Royal Unhinged Horniness, Blitz kind of figured he would've caved a while ago. He won't admit he'd been kind of counting on it; but it's been two months and to his internal horror and shame, it's Blitz who feels fucking feral. They sleep in the same bed, bodies entwined and while it's definitely the best sleep Blitz has ever gotten, it's keying him up and up and up with no release.

Just this morning he'd burned almost an entire loaf of bread trying to make toast because all he could think about was taking his stupid hot boyfriend back to his ridiculous bed to fuck him through his mattress. So there he stood, mortified, erect, and toastless while Stolas hummed and fed his giant toothy plants looking edible and sexy and Oh Satan it was becoming a fucking problem.

The other problem is that Blitz can't solve this the way he wants to. Or, rather, he doesn't want to solve it like that.

He could grab Stolas by the chain holding his starry cape on and stick is tongue down the bird's throat to kick things off, and he probably will do that when his patience runs out, but he's also started to fantasize a bit about a version of their dynamic that casts him with less of an emphasis on Dom and more as the qualifier of Soft.

Fuck.

He wants to do some sappy shit that involves caressing and no toys and maybe also sweet nothings whispered into Stolas's ear until his feathers puff out and his face is a mess of honey blush and desperation. Fizz would call it making love and he's right but also ew. Ugh.

Thinking about that definitely didn't make him less erect, so with a "Mornin' pretty bird," and a squeeze to a feathered thigh (fuck his bird has good thighs) he portals home to shower (because he can do that himself now which is fucking cool), give himself a hand, and then 86 a few human fuckers so he can get back home and remedy his dick problem.

By the time he gets home he's riding high on successful hits, Moxxie's fairly excellent espresso (not that he'll ever tell Moxxie that, he'd be insufferable), and the fire still buzzing in his blood from having someone to fucking waiting for him to come home (and not to kill him, for once).

He forgoes the front door and his shiny newly minted key to, instead, scale the wall to Stolas's bedroom because he wants to put the bird in mind of a sexy, sexy rendezvous and, once over the balustrade, is quickly hit with a wild turning of the tables.

Stolas is laid in the bed, not even his robe on his body for modesty sake, and is desperately trying to rub himself off. The air is humid and smells like sex and home and stuff Blitz was sure he'd never have and even if he hadn't been hard enough to cut glass for weeks, this visage would've done it alone.

Stolas's head is turned away, muffling himself into a pillow and Blitz can hear moans and aborted pleas stifled by cloth until he hears a loud groan that sounds an awful lot like his name.

Oh. Ooohh, fuck Blitz feels crazy. The last vestige of his self control was held by Stolas's own and if his pretty bird is as desperate as he is then who is Blitz to deny him?

He's gifted in stealth for his job and from years of precision movements honed in the circus, so he slowly disrobes to his boxers, only making his presence known when he's right next to the bed.

And fuck the vision is even better up close. Stolas's feathers are a fucking mess, like he's been writhing and edging himself for ages, just waiting for Blitz's hands and tongue and his fucking touch. Like he wants as much as Blitz does.

He clears his throat and four sanguine eyes snap to his, wide and shocked, pupils visible but the heat in them is fucking palpable. He climbs on the bed and leans over Stolas, letting his body touch as much of him as possible, fucking finally.

"Whatcha up to Princess?" he asks, pitching his voice low and rough the way he knows Stolas likes. The moan he gets in reply is like music to his fucking ears and a spark in his veins and there's a blazing inferno before he knows it.

He hums and bites at the feathered neck presented to him before grabbing both of Stolas's wrists and pinning them above the prince's head before speaking directly into his ear, "You lookin' to get split open pretty bird?"

Stolas's whole body shivers and he arches up so beautifully into Blitz that it'd bring tears to his eyes if his entire brain hadn't migrated to his dick and set up camp.

"Please," Stolas whimpers plaintively, legs wrapping around Blitz's hips perfectly, and how could he deny his bird anything?

"You get whatever you want tonight, baby, want you so fucking bad," he murmurs and kisses a flushed, feather cheek before applying himself, rather liberally, to pleasing his love.

[nexionswild]

IN WHICH MANEATER!reader admits their feelings for the van der linde boys. [p.2] [p.1]

includes: charles ∿ lenny ∿ sean ∿ bill

content warning: fluff, a little angsty in bill’s part, no pronouns [GN]

a/n: i think half of them are so ooc nd im so sorry omdgshjq i’m still trying to figure out how to write for lenny and sean but i promise i’ll get better with time 🦾

✦ ﹒ charles smith

you caught him off guard, that's for sure..

charles is used to being perceived as intimidating and scary, considering his origins and his size, but that's what you like about him.

he never noticed how you'd stare lovingly whenever he'd explain his cultural way of hunting down animals or practice some other things.

and you never noticed how much he had to turn his head away when he saw you flirting men according to dutch's plan. but charles have dignity, and would admit to have found himself jealous every time you'd coo love words out of those pretty lips of yours.

probably needs time to acknowledge that you're dead serious about this relationship, and really looking forward to it. he's not against it tho, he's just.. surprised.

be ready because those massive hands of his are never leaving your waist the moment he gracefully accepts your confession. like never ever. and he doesn't have any shame either, and maybe he'll refrain from being too much of a sweetie in camp for your sake, given you can be easily embarassed if he surprise you with his loving demeanour, but he won't hold back as soon as the gang members are away.

"my mother taught me all the ways to treat a lover.. i hope it'll meet your expectations."

unfiltered romantic. it makes you blush how much he says the most romantic thing out of pocket and pretend like that never happened.

your name is the only thing that comes out of his mouth every now and then, you know because arthur keeps mentioning how much charles talks about you as if you were the only beautiful thing that's plaguing his mind.

✦ ﹒ lenny summers

lenny is so flustered, i'm sorry, god, he's baby

he probably stammered like a fool after you confessed, why wouldn't he? you're perfect, so perfect and he's just some kid, trying to be a big bad outlaw. perhaps that's what you like about him. he's nervous like a little kitty, and lord knows how much nervous men makes your day.

"i- i.. ahem.. yes, yes, of course!"

you made him so embarassed, i hope you're proud of yourself.

he'll struggle telling you how jealous he felt, it didn't really struck his mind first before you even confessed, i mean, sure he did think you were charming, but he never really bat an eye at your work.

he only got feelings because you were fun to listen to, you didn’t notice how he’d watch you every time you went on your drunken rants. it’s only recently that you found out according to karen.

for most of the part, lenny would rely on you. i mean you can’t blame him, you’re popular. in a way, you are, you’re like dutch. you have a lot of contacts, and charisma, he’s been a bystander. he’s pretty awkward, he doesn’t know what to do, but you find it cute, somehow.

of course, he’ll start to man up eventually when he feels more confident by the time you’ve shown him what you’re most comfortable with in terms of love languages, and he easily adapts himself to it. i mean, he absolutely loves spending time with you, and the amount of patience you put in for him really melts his heart in a way, but he’ll never admit it. ever.

depending on what you’re most comfortable with, lenny would gladly ride all the way to saint-denis for the simple wish of getting you something expensive, or even bring you along with him so you get to choose what you want. something he didn’t expect to see is you using your flirtatious ways of getting an item for free.

“you really know how to fool a man.. please don’t make a fool out of me.”

✦ ﹒ sean macguire

“ha! i knew ya’d fall for me!”

absolutely did not know you’d fall for him.

sean likes to be confident, at least he likes to appear confident. but often mix things up with arrogance, and if you were to call him out on that, he would tone it down a little. he doesn’t mean to be rude to you, he’s genuinely happy, he just doesn’t know how to properly express it.

sean have a loud mouth, and he didn’t hide the fact that he was getting irritated when men were attracted to you, often times he’d be barked at by arthur or john for fucking up your plan for being jealous. he never understood it, he thought he was being a gentleman chasing those creeps away.

he’s a comedian, on accident. you don’t know how to describe it but there’s something really sweet in seeing him ramble to the point where he’s humorous like that. you guess that’s how you fell for him. sean is so honest. and so dumb, too.

what you most love, is when he gets drunk. that’s where he starts to be overwhelmingly affectionate. and the gang teases you about it, but you couldn’t care less. he’s adorable that way! why would you make fun of something as precious as his honesty? especially when he’s slurring on his words, too?

he’s not a charmer with words, and he knows it. that’s why the best he could do to prove his love is by teasing or joking around with you, he’s trying his best.

“these english men keeps bullyin’ ya… just tell me! i’ll shoot ‘em right between thei’ eyes, yeah?”

he wants to look strong and fearless for you, he wants to impress you in every way he can. sometimes, you’d see him getting angry about the fact that he lost something, wether i’d be a fist fight or a game, but the moment he sees you, he gets embarrassed.

you’re the only one who can reassure him that what he failed to achieve doesn’t matter much, the effort is more important.

✦ ﹒ bill williamson

doesn’t believe you. at all.

bill was always made fun of, or teased by others to get a rise out of him. and he doesn’t believe you, because he thinks it’s just another way to make him mad. but he can’t help and think how evil this is, using you, someone he truly admire, to pick on him?

when you insist that you’re not joking, bill starts to get angry. not at you, but it’s just the way he is, he’s trying his best but he’s still in doubt.

given your reputation with men, and how many times he have to ignore you on duty, he just think it’s purely for the entertainment of seeing him falling like a fool. williamson is someone who’s not joking around, and that you know.

“if you love me, why would you?” he snaps. then immediately regrets. he doesn’t wanna lash it out on you, and he’d drink himself to death if he’s actually convinced that you love him that way.

he wants to apologize, but no words are leaving his mouth. and there’s an unbearable amount of pressure on his shoulders by this point, but when you take your time and explain to him the reason behind your fondness, he softens up a tad.

you had the patience to deal with him, surely you were serious?

“fine. i believe you. but i’m warning you, if this is some sick joke, i’ll—… i’ll…”

he won’t do anything.

for the past few weeks, you’ve been awfully affectionate towards him to prove your point. and he complains about it, tho he secretly enjoy having your full undivided attention. every time dutch planned to take him for a mission, you’ve been prepping his saddle and equipments, and when he came back, you’ve welcome him back with your arms open.

and while you were acting like some kind of stay-at-home spouse, bill would be silently protective over you. when you have to talk to men and women and fake another of your identity to wrap them around your finger, bill would silently sit at a table nearby and watch carefully, making sure no one lays a finger on you.

and when you thank him for his care through kisses, all you hear are grumbling noises and a little “you’re welcome”.

he’s just an angry worked up man, but you love him for it. (surprisingly!)

[massgenocide03]

In Another Life- Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru

Chapter 4

-----------

The room was bathed in a soft, amber glow from the bedside lamp, casting long shadows across the walls. The faint scent of Shoko's recently extinguished cigarette lingered in the air. Geto settled himself into the plush loveseat positioned in the corner, its worn cushions sighing under his weight as he let out a deep, contemplative exhale.

“I thought you couldn’t smoke inside,” Geto remarked, his tone light but tinged with curiosity.

Shoko, standing in the balcony’s frame, turned to face him, a smirk playing on her lips. “Well, technically it wasn’t inside. I was outside, and who’s going to snitch?”She said while eyeing Geto as if he was planning to go tell on her.

Geto rolled his eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Whatever you say.”

He sank deeper into the loveseat, his body language betraying an underlying tension. Shoko, ever perceptive, caught the subtle change in his demeanor. She watched him for a moment, her curiosity piqued, before deciding to probe further.

“What’s up with you?” she asked, making her way toward the bed, her voice gentle yet probing.

Geto hesitated, his eyes flickering with a mixture of embarrassment and unease. “What do you mean?” he replied, his voice guarded. He didn’t want to let Shoko know what he was thinking and what he was worrying about, because it was utterly embarrassing. 

Shoko settled herself onto the bed, reclining with a casual grace, her gaze never leaving Geto's face. “Well, first of all, you and the idiot were acting weird during the day, but you were fine when we got back. But now you’re here, which is concerning considering that you would never choose to hang out with us over the idiot,” she said, her tone a blend of concern and curiosity.

“There’s nothing wrong. I just thought I could spend some time with you guys instead,” Geto replied, trying to sound nonchalant, though the slight quiver in his voice betrayed his discomfort.

“Uh huh,” Shoko responded, her skepticism clear as she narrowed her eyes at him. She didn’t enjoy delving into complicated emotional territories, so she decided to let it go, for now.

Utahime, who had been quietly rummaging through her purse, finally found what she was looking for. She pulled out a small bag and approached Geto with a bright smile. “Hey, can I paint your nails? It looks like your black nail polish is peeling off.”

Geto glanced down at his hands, noticing for the first time the chipped black polish on his nails. He enjoyed painting his nails black; it was a form of self-expression that he found both rebellious and stylish, complementing the piercings in his ears.

“Sure,” he said, offering his hand to Utahime.

Utahime took the brush and gently grasped Geto’s hand, her touch soft yet firm. “Wow, you have really pretty hands, and they’re soft too,” she remarked, her eyes lighting up with genuine intrigue.

Geto looked away, feeling a bit self-conscious under her scrutiny, but then warmed his gaze, no one had ever painted his nails before. Utahime began painting each nail with meticulous care, ensuring not to get any polish on his skin. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she worked. He felt like he was getting his nails painted by a younger sister, and he enjoyed seeing her struggle to make sure the nail she was painting was perfect, he found it adorable.

Meanwhile, Shoko watched the interaction from her perch on the bed, her expression thoughtful. She stretched out, propping her head up with one hand while the other idly traced patterns on the bedspread.

—-------------

Gojo stood in the steam-filled bathroom, the air heavy with the lingering scent of soap and regret. Droplets of water clung to his skin, glistening under the soft glow of the bathroom lights. He had meticulously wiped away any trace of what had transpired on his bed, folding the towel with care and placing it out of sight. Yet, no amount of cleanliness could scrub away the shame that gnawed at him from within.

The hot water had done little to wash away the guilt that clung to him like a second skin. His reflection in the fogged-up mirror showed a man tormented by his own desires and mistakes. How could he face Suguru now, his closest friend, after succumbing to such thoughts?

He clenched his fists, the water dripping from his fingertips. Disgust churned in the pit of his stomach, self-loathing tightening its grip with every passing second. Would Suguru ever look at him the same way again if he knew? The mere thought made him shudder.

Should he confess, lay bare the shameful truth, and face the consequences? The idea clawed at him, tempting in its honesty yet terrifying in its potential fallout. He buried his face in his hands, the weight of his actions pressing down upon him like a leaden blanket.

In the silence of the bathroom, he wrestled with his turmoil, grappling with the betrayal he felt towards his own principles and towards Suguru, who trusted him implicitly. The water continued to run, its steady flow a stark contrast to the turbulence within him.

Ultimately, he chose silence. Words felt inadequate, incapable of bridging the chasm he had unwittingly created. With a heavy heart and a mind clouded by remorse, he turned away from the mirror and left the bathroom, the steam billowing out into the bedroom beyond.

He quietly dried himself, and quickly put on a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. He may not come clean to Suguru, but he did want to hang out with him, even if his guilt gnawed at him in the back of his mind. He decided, guilty or not, that he wanted to hang out with his best friend and the person he loved, so he made his way towards Shoko’s room. 

—--------

He knocked on the door five times before Shoko opened it with a scowl, her irritation evident in the set of her jaw and the narrowed intensity of her eyes. The hallway outside was dimly lit, casting long shadows that danced across the walls as Gojo awaited Shoko's response.

“Get out of here,” she said tersely, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

“Whyyy? Why can’t I be here? Suguru is here!” Gojo's voice carried a childish edge, a hint of petulance coloring his words.

“Well, Geto is not annoying, and this is my room, so I make the rules,” Shoko replied firmly, her stance resolute as she blocked the doorway with her slender frame.

Undeterred, Gojo attempted to peek into the room, curiosity getting the better of him. His eyes widened in surprise and disbelief as he spotted Suguru and Utahime holding hands, their hands touching in a gesture that sent a pang of jealousy straight to Gojo's heart.

Utahime holding Suguru’s hands? His Suguru? The realization struck Gojo like a thunderbolt in a clear sky, electrifying his senses with an overwhelming mix of disbelief and jealousy. It wasn't just the sight of their fingers touching that unsettled him; it was the way Suguru's usually reserved demeanor seemed softened in her presence, a vulnerability that was reserved for him.

In that fleeting moment, Gojo felt a surge of possessiveness grip his chest like a vise. The thought of someone else, especially Utahime, sharing such an intimate connection with Suguru sent a jolt of agitation through him. His mind raced with questions he couldn't voice—why was Suguru allowing this? Did he not understand the implications of such a gesture? Or worse, did he understand perfectly, and he was happy with it? Did Suguru like Utahime?

The room seemed to shrink around him as he struggled to process the sight before him. Every detail became magnified—the slight squeeze of their hands, the warmth in Suguru's eyes that he thought was reserved only for their moments together. It was a private world Gojo had believed was theirs alone, now exposed and vulnerable.

Utahime holding Suguru’s hands. His Suguru. The words echoed in his mind like a haunting refrain, a reminder of the boundaries that had been crossed and the uncertainty that now clouded his once-clear understanding of their relationship.

Fueled by a mixture of jealousy and an insatiable need to confront the situation, Gojo impulsively leaped, his agile form grabbing onto the top of the door frame. With a swift, fluid motion, he swung himself into the room, landing with unexpected grace on Shoko in his haste.

“Hey, asshole, I said you couldn’t come in!” Shoko's voice rose sharply. She knew how much Utahime didn’t like Gojo, and she didn’t want any unnecessary fights or arguments to unfold.

Ignoring Shoko's protests, Gojo darted towards Suguru and Utahime, his movements driven by an overwhelming need to assert his presence. With a brusque motion, he pulled Utahime aside, he grabbed onto her waist tightly, and instantly threw her across the room where she landed on the bed. 

In his haste, he reached out and grasped Suguru’s hand, the touch more possessive than comforting, a desperate attempt to stake his claim in the face of mounting jealousy. Only moments later did he realize his grave mistake. Utahime wasn’t holding Suguru’s hand; she was meticulously painting his nails, the delicate brush strokes contrasting sharply against the last violent stroke that now trailed along Suguru’s hand.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Utahime’s voice rang out with fury as she leapt from the bed, her anger a palpable force as she stormed towards Gojo with righteous indignation.

“I COULD’VE GOTTEN HURT, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! LOOK NOW, THERE’S NAIL POLISH ALL OVER THE BED AND ON MY FACE. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” Her voice echoed off the walls, punctuated by the sharp sound of slamming doors and the rush of emotions that filled the room.

—------

Geto stood frozen in shock, a silent witness to the chaotic scene unfolding before him. His breath caught in his throat as he watched Utahime unleash her fury on Gojo, the intensity of her emotions mirroring the tumultuous storm raging within him.

Satoru was holding his hand, an act that should have felt comforting but instead stirred a maelstrom of conflicting emotions in Geto’s chest. His heart thumped wildly, the touch sending shivers down his spine as he struggled to make sense of his own feelings.

“YOU ALSO MESSED UP GETO’S NAILS AFTER I WORKED SO HARD TO MAKE THEM PERFECT!” Utahime's accusation cut through the air like a knife, her frustration reaching its peak as she aimed a punch at Gojo’s face.

The punch missed its target as Gojo activated his Limitless, his reflexes honed to perfection as he evaded Utahime’s blow with effortless grace. His nonchalant expression only seemed to aggravate Utahime further, the tension in the room thickening.

“I FUCKING HATE YOU!” Utahime’s scream reverberated through the room, her voice filled with raw emotion as she stormed towards the restroom, slamming the door shut behind her with a resounding bang that echoed in the silence that followed.

Shoko stood in stunned silence for a moment, her eyes darting between the chaotic scene and the blanket stained with spilled nail polish on her bed, a silent witness to the fallout of unchecked emotions.

“So, what was that about, Idiot? Are you finally losing it, or did you really not want anyone else to touch the hands of the love of your life?” Shoko's teasing remark hung in the air, her tone a mix of annoyance and genuine curiosity as she broke the tense silence.

The term “love of your life” struck a chord within Geto, a rush of warmth spreading across his cheeks as he stole a glance at Gojo. The sight of Satoru’s reddening face mirrored his own.

Why was he reacting like this? Was it embarrassment, jealousy, or could it be something deeper? No, he shouldn’t get ahead of himself.

Gojo calmed his expression down, and then shot Shoko a look, his gaze unyielding as he refused to deny anything. Instead, he met her challenge head-on with a defiant, “What, you got a problem with it?”

Those words caused Geto’s blush to deepen even further, his thoughts spinning in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions as he struggled to make sense of the tumultuous events and the unspoken connection he felt with Gojo.

Shoko sighed heavily; her voice tinged with resignation. "Nevermind, just get out of here. I don’t want Utahime to have another rage fit when she comes out of the restroom."

Gojo remained silent, his grip on Geto’s hand tightening subtly as he guided him towards the door and into their hotel room. Each step felt charged with an unspoken tension, the weight of their intertwined hands amplifying the moment's intimacy.

As Gojo continued to hold his hand, Geto couldn't ignore the rush of warmth that spread from his fingertips to the rest of his body. His cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and excitement, a sensation he hadn't experienced before. It was like a fluttering in his stomach, a clichéd yet undeniable feeling of "butterflies."

Inside their room, Gojo's actions spoke louder than words. Without explanation, he released Geto’s hand and hurried to the bathroom. He returned swiftly with hand sanitizer and wipes in hand, his movements efficient and purposeful. Geto watched as Gojo wiped the nail polish that was spread across his hand. The brush of Gojo’s fingers against his skin sent a subtle shiver down Geto’s spine, a sensation he tried to suppress. He kept quiet until Gojo started wiping the nail polish that was already done and looked nice. 

“Hey! That’s already done. Why are you wiping it off?”

Gojo paused, meeting Geto’s gaze with a softness in his eyes that caught him off guard. “I don’t want anyone else but me to paint your nails from now on,” he said quietly, his words carrying a weight that hung in the air between them.

Heat flooded Geto’s cheeks, a blush spreading like wildfire. He struggled to comprehend the depth of emotions swirling within him. Why did this simple gesture, this act of care and possessiveness from Gojo, affect him so profoundly? His thoughts raced, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to make sense of the turmoil.

The realization hit him with a sudden clarity that both exhilarated and terrified him. His feelings for Gojo were more than just friendship. They ran deeper, tangled with desire and a longing he hadn’t fully acknowledged until now. The intensity of it all overwhelmed him, leaving him breathless and uncertain.

In that moment, as Gojo’s sapphire-blue eyes lingered on his hands, Geto understood. He was in love with Gojo Satoru, his best friend, in a way that transcended their years of camaraderie. It was a truth he couldn’t deny any longer, even if it turned his world upside down.

[joanofexys]

here is your reason to talk about emeryk wesninski 👉👈

Emeryk Wesninski my beloved (not really. I also forgot he existed and debated killing him dead again instead of confronting my embarrassing ocs)

If it isn’t obvious he’s intended to be Neil’s brother, which I’m probably gonna skirt around as much as possible due to my own shame lmao

Emeryk Wesninski:

25 years old

he/him

queer idk he’s not gonna sit there long enough to slap a word on it

played striker

was supposed to start on the Ravens lineup with Emiko their freshman year

dropped the sport for academic and familial pursuits (also cause he was not about to major in fucking business)

We’re gonna pretend I know why the hell I decided having an Em (Moriyama) and Em (Wesninski) was a good idea cause I did create them at the same time but honestly? fuck if I know.

Pretending I can do math I think there’s a six year gap between Neil and Emeryk. Or at least it’s around there. So when Mary and Neil went on the run Emeryk was 16 years old and pretty deeply involved in his father’s business. Not that he enjoyed it. He and Mary knew there was a far smaller chance of success survival with three of them instead of two and Neil had the better chance. So he told her to just him and go, with only a little resentment.

Emeryk escapes some of the worst parts of his father’s work through a series of deals with the Moriyama’s, specifically Ichirou. He and Ichirou aren’t far apart in age and now he of course wonders what the hell was doing, but he would rather have indebted himself to Ichirou over Kengo. And he knew one day Ichirou would be in charge, he just didn’t expect it to be quite so soon.

So instead of getting sucked in deeper (to the Wesninski’s business at least), he’s able to somewhat save himself. He enrolls in Edgar Allan University at 18 and doesn’t sign a contract to play with the Ravens. Despite it he and Emiko still become friends and he has some, albeit limited, interaction with Kevin, Riko, and Jean.

He studies criminal justice and goes on to study law. All of it, of course, being put towards working for the Moriyama’s. But at least he’s not actively killing people.

He spends a lot of his time covering up any tracks Mary and Neil leave behind. Whenever he can find them, he knows that means someone else will, and he does his best to remove any sort of paper trail or hint to their existence. Even if it’s just confusing Nathan’s men. Anything that gives them enough time to create a new identity and move.

He’s not exactly happy about it but he does feel like it’s part of what he agreed to years ago. So he lets the resentment build and does it anyway.

And when Neil shows up at Palmetto, seemingly not even trying to be subtle, he is so fucking pissed. Everything’s undone. He can run his mouth and mess things up as much as he wants but he knows it’s only a matter of time.

By the time Baltimore occurs Emeryk is so far removed from the Wesninski’s and so deeply involved with the Moriyama’s that he doesn’t even see it coming. At least not fast enough. When Stuart reaches out to him he reluctantly agrees to work with the FBI, temporarily, to find Nathan.

That’s the first time Neil and Emeryk see each other in years. Emeryk’s pretty sure Neil doesn’t remember half of it, blacked out from pain. And he sure as fuck wasn’t going to stick around to visit him in the hospital. He gets out of there with the intent of talking to the least amount of cops he can.

He forms a bit of a relationship with Neil after that. Mostly “don’t talk to cops”, “seriously get a fucking lawyer”, “have you considered not running your damn mouth?”, and the like. But ultimately he doesn’t give a shit what Neil gets up to. Not his business (though he can’t help but keep a worried eye on him to make sure he’s not getting into too much trouble. He spent too long doing it to stop. And if it has the added benefit of seeing his brother happy and healthy, somewhere he can call home, no one else to needs to know)

While Emeryk didn’t wind up a full blown serial killer he’s still a worse person than like Emiko. He’s very much out to save his own skin. He’ll always go with his best chance of survival. For now that lies with the Moriyama’s. But if a better opportunity ever presented itself he’d take it in a heartbeat.

And idk that’s just a little bit about Em (Wesninski) who I made 4-ish years ago and forgot about until now

[nozomi-kaizoku]

One thing that genuinely pisses me off is how my dad will constantly point out me, my sister, and my mom's shortcomings and be so quick to blame us for it, yet when we point out his shortcomings that are genuinely harmful, all of a sudden he's "being invalidated", and that we "hurt his feelings" and shit, AND HE DOESN'T EVEN CONSIDER HOW WE FEEL EITHER WHICH FUCKING SUCKS!

Literally just today my parents were arguing about how my mental health was affecting my ability to attend school, and he's over there saying "oh, we should put [him] in a boarding school", "[he]'s doing this on purpose" yap yap yap, basically blaming me for all of this shit. (I put m pronouns in the brackets cause he was misgendering me the whole time btw)

And then I go an step out to get something, he calls me over, and basically just starts shaming me (in front of my mom an sister btw) for getting suspended and sharing how I feel about mr. Gonzales n shit, and when my mom tried to explain and elaborate on something to him, he completely blew her off.

And my mom (bless her heart btw) was literally trying to defend this asshole because she loves him, like a lot, and I feel bad that she has to put up with this tbh.

"he didn't know, he's trying his best" Not only does he know, HE'S SAYING THESE THINGS IN THE MOST DEGRADING MATTER POSSIBLE JUST TO MAKE ME FEEL BAD FOR GETTING SUSPENDED, AND I JUST SJFJKFHERUFERFHR /NEG

Also, I accidentally bought $20 worth of shit on Thursday because he gave me his credit card to buy a soda, and he got in trouble for letting me go out and spend that much, and instead of holding himself accountable, he decides to drag it to today (TWO DAYS LATER) and complain about him "being thrown under the bus", like I'M SORRY BUT YOU'RE THE 50 SOMETHING YEAR OLD MAN BEING PUT IN CHARGE OF MYFINACIALLY IRRESPONSIBLE MENTALLY ILL ASS, YOU WERE THE ONE THAT GAVE ME THE FUCKING CREDIT CARD AND DIDN'T BOTHER TO STOP ME.

and oh man am I getting genuinely tired of his fucking trauma dumping.

He talks about how his mental health and how angry he is at something, yet when we have the AUDACITY to try and talk about how WE feel, instead of taking the time to listen and understand, he basically dismisses us and does this thing I personally call "fake praising" (which is basically when he gives someone praise but it's in such a condescending and almost sarcastic tone to where it doesn't feel like genuine praise at all), and even straight up invalidates us n shit, it's fucking infuriating man.

And the fucked up part? whenever my mom does these things, all of a sudden it's this horrible abusive thing and that he's a selfish bitch, which upsets me because unlike him, she doesn't have as much control over it (though she's working on it), and both she and I have BPD, which makes this even more fucked up because he's so quick to judge us for the same shit he does just because we have a mental illness we can't control.

It infuriates me so much how he's quick to dismiss other people's struggles and sometimes tell them it's their fault, and then the minute he receives ANY amount of criticism against genuinely shitty actions, all of a sudden he's a victim?? FUCK THAT!

I'd say he has a big ego and it's becoming an issue, but i don't want to give the NPD community any shit (since they already got so much stigma on their hands), and I'm not gonna say he's faking any of this either, cause that's not okay, but he REALLY heeds to get a therapist to talk to instead of dumping his issues on the rest of his family.

OH! did I forget to mention he makes weird comments bout my body without my consent anytime I dress alternatively, and he's told me in the past that I have an "athlete's body"? Yeah, kind of weird..

He does ALL of this, and yet still wonders why I hate him.

man is it infuriating...

EDIT: forgot to mention that he doesn't even go to my appointments, nor has he even MET my therapist, or any of that shit, so he has no right to even talk about my mental health like that.

Also, he's extremely invasive about how my medications are working and if I took them n shit, and he says it's "so I can know if my coworker Brian can be prescribed them".

like first off the medications working bit is something for my doctor to ask, not you, second off, I get if you're reminding me, but for you to basically come at me and yell at me for not taking them and then acting like I got angry because I didn't take those medications because "I can tell that you're off them", and third off, if Brian really wanted to talk about my medications so that he can speak with his doctor about it, he should talk with me directly so that he can know first hand how it works and what the side effects are, he doesn't need to have my dad (who has no knowledge about mental health medications whatsoever) come and ask invasive questions about my medications and risk spreading harmful misinformation that's gonna get him killed.

Let's just say I'm probably gonna have him talk to my therapist on my behalf so that he actually, yknow, LEARNS NOT TO BE A FUCKING DICK TO THE PEOPLE AROUND HIM??

[reshramlove1ob]

I’m gonna give my two cents on Cat Fantasy

I’ll start with the good. I’ve grown to like the combat, though I can see how it could get stale. I hope it adds something to the units themselves in the future to distinct it from other games.

The designs are very good, and while a lot of them are just for fan service, others are really good. Asura and Shiro are my favorite from the main cast, and the villains are cool lookin too.

I can tell that there’s *some* passion behind the story. Yeah, there’s the awkward fan service moments, and some parts feel disconnected from other parts, but overall I think it’s interesting so far.

I think the cafe part it has is really cute. It has a nice aesthetic and it never takes too long to do your daily chores there. It’s a nice addition to the game that I wish more games like it had.

Now that’s all the praise I have, so now I’m gonna rip this game apart with the negatives!

The gacha is abysmal. Well, let me rephrase that. The standard gacha actually isn’t that bad. The game gives out a decent amount of standard pulls. I’m sure after the honeymoon stage, it will become worse, but in the meantime, you’d probably get a good variety of characters.

Now for the abysmal gacha: the limited banners. They’re scams, there isn’t any other way to describe it. Getting limited pulls and gems is a nightmare. It’s usually expected in Gachas that gems are given out as rewards, but in this game, standard pulls are given out. HUGE red flag! Clearly trying to get your money. I haven’t even looked at the prices of anything yet, because I know I’m not even going to consider buying anything because of how stingy they are with limited pulls.

I mentioned how rare gems are to find, and while they aren’t nearly as bad as limited pulls, they’re still pretty bad. To convert gems into pulls, you need 180 gems for 1 pull. Wouldn’t be a problem if I didn’t have trouble GETTING THE GEMS.

Now, I’m a casual player. The only game I’d say I’m actually sweaty in is Dislyte and maybe even PGR when I’m feeling up to play it for a while. So, I’ll probably play Cat Fantasy for about, let’s say, 1 hour each day. This game activity encourages you to play all the main story stuff quickly to unlock more features. Ok, that’s fine, but tell me why the LIMITED COLLAB EVENT is LOCKED BEHIND STORY MODE 8? Look. This game is designed as a casual experience gameplay wise, kinda like Honkai Star Rail, and yet it tries to make events last for only 2 weeks? Yeah, no.

Events. Ah, yes. I already mentioned the collab event, but let me now mention Dorothy’s event. It’s shit. The story of fine, but it locks the stories behind the event currency. You have to get a certain amount of currency to move on to the next story part. I’d brush past it if it wasn’t 2 WEEKS LONG. That’s hardly enough time unless you grind out everything. And, as a casual player, that’s not happening.

Fishing. It’s just annoying. Other games did it better. Next!

I could never recommend this game to anyone. It’s predatory in nature, and the cons outweigh the pros substantially. It’s not player friendly, it wants you to waist your time on it and spend your money to bust a nut at the flashy cat girls. I might just delete it, if the main story even just begins to bore me, because I really do like the story so far. This game has huge potential, but it’s clear that as of right now, it’s just a quick money grab, which is a shame.

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Older Ciel, Edward, Charles and Undertaker when their s/o surprises them after adopting an orphan- could be a friend passed and didn't have any family to take the little one in. (I have THE CUDDLIEST 1 year old in class right now and omgosh! 😍😍😍 love her so!!)

awwwwww!! <3

didn't know which Charles you wanted (Grey or Phipps) so I just did em both :D

Hmph, well… he isn’t necessarily thrilled by the whole thing. It’s not as if he hates the idea of having a child; it’s just that he doesn’t really feel like he’s able to be a good father. He’s just rather at a loss of how to react. He tries to be very quiet about it, neither showing any excessive joy nor any true dislike of the situation. It also depends on the age of the little one too — he takes far better to an infant or a toddler than a slightly older child. Although he’s busy, he very much does bond with the child in his own way. And he absolutely cares about them. He certainly doesn’t begrudge his S/O for taking them in, even if he might struggle to adjust.

Oh, dear… what a terrible tragedy to have happened. Even if it means this wonderful little child gets to come into their lives, it’s a shame it had to happen this way. Still, he embraces the change, despite the fact that it’s somewhat difficult to learn how to be a parent. His whole life has led up to getting married and having children with his S/O, (as well as following in his family’s footsteps in general), but he finds that he’s not as ready as he thought he was when it happens so suddenly. He loves the little one as if they were his own, though. He spends as much time with them and with his beloved as he can… having someone else to provide for, however, makes him work twice as hard to be able to take care of their new child.

Ah… goodness… he’ll definitely be sure to say a prayer for the little one’s original family. Of course, as bad as it sounds out loud, he sort of views the new child as sort of a… test run? Yes, that sounds terrible! Which is why he probably won’t say it. As excited as he is about starting a family, he’s quite a bit nervous about the kind of parent he’s going to be. Having it thrust on him and his S/O somehow bypasses all his anxiety, because they have no choice but to take care of this child. They have to find a way. So, find a way he will. He’s more than capable of looking after both of them, so all that remains is to bond with the little one. Easier said than done… he’s determined to make it happen, though.

… It’s awful, what happened. And it’s quite a surprise to come home from a long day and abruptly find himself a father. Though, he’s mostly the type to just silently accept things as they are — no amount of questioning or worry or anything will change the reality of what is. So he gently takes the child from his S/O, because he doesn’t know exactly how long they’ve been dealing with the little one as well as their own emotions, and tries to take care of them for the rest of the night. He adjusts fairly well, all things considered; there’s no one who would look at him and think he wasn’t suited to be a father, even if he might doubt himself sometimes. Even though he’s not talkative, he is very much an incredible parent.

Lord, what a way to become a parent! He tries desperately to find the humor in it, but even he knows there really isn’t any. Anything he jokes about, he’ll immediately bite his tongue following it, knowing any joke is in poor taste at least for a while. Thankfully, he’s seen enough death now to know how best to deal with it, so if his S/O is grieving, he’s glad to take care of the little one for a while. He has nothing else to do, and he’s most assuredly a sucker for children, so why not give his darling a little break? He’s scared for the future, yet… he’s always wanted a family like this. If they’re going to take care of this child, he might as well give it a genuine try. Whatever else is true, he does try. He loves that child, even if he’s got a lot to learn.

[narilily]

MERROCK TASK #20 SOCIAL MEDIA

at what age did your character start using social media? Nari started using social media post-high school, when she was in college and it was just becoming popular. She rode the wave of Facebook and got to experience all of the new ones as the cropped up along the way.

did their parents monitor their use, if they were young? If anything, Nari probably needs to monitor her parents' use of social media, to make sure that they do it all right.

has your character ever had fake identities or accounts online? No!

no shame: do they remember myspace? did they use it? She does, and she did! She even had the goofy little cartoon dolls on her page and everything. Plus, music.

who would be in their top eight today? That's a tough one! Probably just a random selection of friends, or she'd end up finding internet famous cats and adding them, so no one got hurt feelings of where they fell in order.

what social media platforms do they use today? Nari uses the usual -- Instagram, Facebook, Threads, TikTok, X, whatever, she just doesn't always use them religiously.

do they have public profiles, or go private? Public.

how about their following? are they pretty lowkey, or do they have a decent following? Somewhere in between; she's nowhere near famous on social media, but she also wouldn't consider herself a 'no one' and ends up having a lot of followers from around town, between the nursery, her fashion work, and the yoga studio. Plus, just being a friendly gal.

do they tend to pick obvious usernames, ones with sentimental value, funny things? how do they decide? Pretty much always the same thing: narilily or narigim, or some sort of combination of those names, it's pretty obvious it's her, which makes her easier to find, and that works.

profile pictures: the same across all platforms? The same!

and just what profile pictures do they use? It's normally a selfie involving flowers in some way.

what kind of bio writer are they? silly, cute, sweet, or just basic? It normally involves a lot of emojis. Nari's bios tend to be more sweet than anything else, though! Cute little sentimental things, that kind of vibe.

how much time per day would you say that your character spends on social media? A decent amount, but not an unhealthy amount!

is there one platform that they visit more than others? Probably Instagram, it keeps her the busiest.

if they have kids, do they use social media? how do they feel about that? if not, and they want kids, will they let them use it someday? Nari does not have kids, and doesn't really plan to have kids, but she would definitely at least do a little monitoring when it comes to what they use it for and who they interact with.

be honest: have they ever created an account for something else, like a hobby, or… to try to make their cat internet famous? Nope!

do they run any professional or business accounts? She is working on starting up a social media account for her sewing and seamstress work, to show off what she's created for her brand name. Slow moving!

have they ever left a social media platform (or more than one) for any specific reason? She sort of ducked out of X, but still catches up with the news now and then on that platform.

do they plan on using social media into their older ages? Nari will use social media until social media no longer exists.

have they ever made any long-lasting friendships through social media? Yes! Nari's made friends with a lot of florists who share their work on social media, which has been kind of fun to watch them grow over time.

or on the flip side, gotten into any big social media beef? No more than usual, she's normally pretty good at dismissing herself from the conversation if things start getting heated.

have they ever felt negatively impacted by social media as a user? Sure, now and then. If she's going through a low period in her life, she knows to avoid doom scrolling, though.

who is their favorite person / account to follow on social media? The above mentioned florists, for sure.

would they say that social media has had an overall more positive or negative impact on the world? Probably positive, it's brought a lot of people together for a lot of good reasons, and it's hard to dismiss that.

and finally: a/s/l? (and do they know what that means?) 41/F/Maine, and of course she does, she was around when it was a big deal!

[jamethinks]

Retconning a bit here (you can't stop me) but I like think it was actually a good amount of years before Martha actually made it back to Ostania. I think in the original story Henry and Lucia were only married briefly by the time Martha came back which I dunno doesnt make any sense to me like girl get the divorce he dont want you.

The reason I say a few years rather than the canon few months, is because I want them to develop an actual relationship and bond before Martha returns and before they have their daughters.

Follow my vision for a minute; imagine a broken destroyed Henry convinced the love of his life died before he could even tell her how he truly felt. Feeling guilty and responsible for her death, convinced that had he just pushed back a bit more he could have saved her. Now he has to spend everyday watching her death be used a propaganda to force more people into their own untimely deaths all for nothing.

And to make things worse, just weeks after her supposed death he is forced to marry some woman who never felt and love her the way Martha deserved. It makes him feel sick, even trying to escape a few times. As he saw her walking down the aisle all he could do was scowl in disgust. This woman was a fraud in his eyes, just another puppet for the upperclass. The only feeling he had for her was bitterness and shame.

The first few weeks were rough, Henry actively avoiding her and refusing to even speak to her. He slept in the guest house shutting down all of her advances. Lucia felt trapped, she could tell something was bothering him but she didn't know what. It was obvious he didn't love her, it was an arranged marriage after all it was a given regardless of what the adults around them said. Still his attitude was crueler than necessary. She couldn't talk to anyone about it, not wanting to present their new union as already broken.

Eventually, she's able to corner him, forcing him to talk to her like adults. She prepared to screamed and degraded but instead her collapsed in tears, sharing the entire story with her. He expected her to mock him or even dismiss him but instead she comforted him. In fact she agreed with him. It was at that point he realized him and Lucia were not that much different.

From their on they formed a bond, not something explicitly of love but care. It was because of Lucia he was able to get over Martha's death and eventually fall her in a unique way. They both agreed Martha would always be his first love and Lucia was fine being second (well third after his daughter). His feelings never became fully romantic but he considered her his best friend and treasured their time together.

Lucia had no intention of getting between him and Martha. She saw their marriage as a more formal agreement and just didn't want him to hate her. She was even open to the idea of him dating Martha (once she found out she was alive) but at that point he had already moved and found a new love his daughter wife and was fine without her. Knowing she was alive was more than enough.

The she went to war again and he almost died from fear. The third time she stayed her ass at home.

Also fuck that girl's girl shit, Martha hated that bitch for decades. She had no valid reason to but human emotions aren't always logical.

But she's dead now and Martha's alive so fuck that bitch

Also Henry's daughters knew he was in love with Martha and now that their has passed they're actively plotting to get them together.

[whumpshaped]

lore: feeding

lore on demons and feeding. thank u to @whumpsday for asking all those leading questions

demons will survive without anything – they're immortal until killed. but to not go hungry/starve, they need to feed on others' emotions. aside from that they can and usually do feed on raw meat, which is a very good belly-filler, or they can even engage in some human food if they want for recreational purposes. but again, to actually avoid starving, they need emotions.

demons feed on (almost always) negative emotions, of which the most common ones are: fear (most demons are very good at feeding on this), disgust, anger, and shame. rarer ones include loneliness, anxiety, jealousy/envy, disappointment, boredom, things like that. the only one that can be considered positive and many demons can feed on it is sexual pleasure.

most demons are naturally good at feeding on one or two of those. being "good" at feeding on an emotion means it's instinctual, passive even. the demons can't even help it, and why would they want to? it's like a human going out in the sun and absorbing vitamin d. you can't just stop on command. being "bad" at feeding on an emotion means that it's mental work. it's like hunting for food: a predator must evaluate whether the prey is worth running after. for demons, trying to feed on something they're not naturally good at is like running half a marathon for a bowl of porridge. sure, it's food, but it took more energy to get it than what it'll actually replenish.

demons can work on getting better at feeding on certain emotions, but it's usually unnecessary. most of these feelings are equally easy to invoke in others, there's no need for a fear-inclined demon to try and get into feeding on shame. plus while they can get somewhat better, it's never a huge improvement, and it's a slow process.

between demons, humans, and angels, it's not easier or harder to feed on any one species. of course it's harder to catch humans and angels, but once they're securely within the demon's grasp, they're equally easy to feed on. the flavour however does vary! there's an ongoing demon debate on whether demons and humans even taste any different (both emotion and meat-wise), but like 99% agree that angels are tastiest inside and out. i'd say 65% says humans taste better, the remaining 35% says it's likely just the thrill of the hunt that makes the others say that.

"starving" isn't that big of a deal as in humans and works differently. starved demons get extremely restless instead of lethargic and tired. it's their bodies' mechanism for urging them to go hunt for something. their bodies don't change based on the amount they do or don't consume, they kind of stay the same all the time unless they possess the rare but very cool gift of shapeshifting.

demons can consume any amount of food, either emotional or physical. if they eat past the point of comfortable satiety, it doesn't really affect anything. most powerful demons spend their whole life well-fed, full and happy, rarely ever even experiencing any hunger. some swear by waiting a bunch between meals though, so the hunger sets in and sets off that adrenaline. they think hunting is better that way.

all creatures can feel when they're being fed on (emotionally). it's not readily apparent, but once they recognise that violating feeling once, they can confidently tell when it happens again. it's sort of like the tingle on the back of your neck when you feel like you're being stared at. it's not very pleasant (despite that, some demons love it lol there's a kink for everything)

as for some facts about my specific set of blorbos:

the devil can feed on absolutely anything. their special favourites are fear and disgust, but they're an omnivore.

astaroth is naturally inclined towards pleasure and shame, with fear as a close second (third i guess but those first two are pretty tied).

shax is naturally inclined towards fear and anxiety, and he HATES it. he wishes it was absolutely anything else. anxiety is one of the harder emotions to inspire in someone, and scaring another demon as a low-ranking silly goose is just so fucking hard. he also gets basically zero satiety from pleasure which sucks because maybe he could've been goodnat that. he usually depends on astaroth for food.

~

taglist: @the-scrapegoat @heavenly-whumper @whumpsday @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night

[enbyhyena]

So I talk sometimes about how piss-poor the SSI payout amounts are, but I did my math on something slightly different today and I just thought I ought to share my findings. I also just wanted to do a more in-depth, comprehensive post in general. So here you go.

As of the 2023 calendar year, the maximum SSI payout amount is $914 per month.

A full-time worker will work 40 hours a week, or 160 hours a month.

If you take the payout amount and divide it by the hours of a full-time job, you get...

🥁🥁🥁

$5.71/hour.

The federal minimum wage is $7.25.

In order to be completely financially secure and comfortable, you need to make about $233k a year. As of 2021, the median household income is $71,000 a year.

According to this calculator, $914/month ($10,968 a year) is 75.23% below the federal poverty line.

Put another way, if I never spent a single cent of my SSI (which I can't do and I'll talk about why further down), and if my wages were not to increase at all (which it does by a small amount each year, but for the sake of this analogy), it would take me 21 years to make the amount of money that it takes to be comfortable for just one year. (I got this figure by taking 914 and multiplying it by the number of months (12), and then dividing 233k by the outcome [$10,968].)

Multiple resources state that people should aim to not spend above 30% of their monthly income on rent.

30% of $914 is $274.20.

Median rent cost in the United States has climbed to $2,011 per month.

Recipients of SSI are not allowed to have ANY amount above $2,000 in combined income and assets at ANY time, or else they will lose their benefits cold turkey. Meaning that even if they COULD come up with 200% of their monthly income JUST for rent (not factoring in the cost of food, meds, transportation, etc), they would be instantly cut off.

Don't even get me started on what a shit-show Section 8 is. Especially post-pandemic.

Marriage brings the income/asset limit to $3,000. So if you're a double-disabled couple, your limit is cut in half (strongly discouraging marriage). If you're a disabled person and marry to someone who works, your SSI will almost certainly drop or disappear completely—which can trap disabled people in financially abusive situations.

If you claim SSI and try to work to make a little extra money, every other dollar after $63 subtracts a dollar from your SSI payout, BEFORE taxes. So say you work full time for 2 weeks making $9 an hour—$720 before taxes.

Subtract the initial $63, and you're left with $657. Now divide that by two (for every other dollar).

SSI has just taken $328.50 from your SSI payout. Your $914 payout is now $585.50. Subtract another $328.50 for your second paycheck in one month, and that's a $256.50 payout.

This leads to a lot of disabled people, who break their bodies trying to make just a little more in spite of their illnesses, to largely break even. Usually making about the same amount they would have made if they'd just stayed home and taken care of themselves instead.

And to make it EVEN worse, earnings take 2 months to reflect on your payouts. So say you work over the holidays to treat yourself for Christmas. You may get $914 in December and January as normal, but only come February will you finally see that deduction take effect—meaning if anything happens, you have several hundred less dollars to work with.

When I worked, it took over a year AFTER I quit for my payouts to finally go back to normal, as they kept readjusting my earnings and deducting from my payouts saying that they "paid me too much".

So I don't think it needs to be said that you can fight tooth and nail to get accepted onto this program, and be shamed by society for being on it once you finally win, but as an extra kicker be FORCED to stay there with no options to escape without severe punishment.

I have known people who fought for four and ten years. While being considered, you cannot work AT ALL or they will immediately throw out your case. The average wait time is 2 years, but most wait longer. If SSA says no, you'll be sent to court to appeal. If the judge denies you, you have to start all over again. And you can get caught in the same loop over, and over, and over, and over again, getting denied support that you desperately need, and many die hoping to receive.

8,000 people file for bankruptcy and 10,000 people die a year while waiting for their SSI to be approved.

And it just keeps getting worse and worse the further down the rabbit hole you go. I made this post partially to vent my frustration with this system after being abused by it for the past 5 years (and it abusing the people I care about). But I also wanted to create a resource with citations for people to share around and throw in the faces of ANYONE who dares to think that people on welfare/claiming SSI somehow "have it easy".

As a disabled person, I spend over half of my given days either in bed too ill and/or in pain to function, or at a clinic begging a doctor to not call me fat or a hypocondriac or drug-seeking and take my (documented and diagnosed!!) illnesses seriously. I rarely ever get to just SIT there and BE sick. I often have to get up and get shit done in SPITE of being sick, even doing OTHER people's jobs and holding their hands just to make sure they're actually doing what THEY'RE being PAID to do (insurance agents, doctors, etc). Disabled people don't GET days off. Just because we don't work a "conventional" job doesn't mean we're just sitting on our asses mooching off the system. Every single goddamn day is a fight just for the basic human right to survive. And I never want to hear anyone saying that ableist, invalidating, and blatantly untrue shit around me.