#Level 5 has some explaining to do | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

argumate · 4 months ago

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So, reports of an unprecedented egg “shortage” are exaggerated. Nonetheless, egg prices — and egg company profits — have gone through the roof. Cal-Maine Foods — the largest egg producer and the only one that publishes its financial data as a publicly traded company — has been making more money than ever. It’s annual gross profits in the past three years have floated between 3 and 6 times what it used to earn before the avian flu epidemic started — breaking $1 billion for the first time in the company’s history. All of this extra profit is coming from higher selling prices, which have been earning Cal-Maine unprecedented 50-170 percent margins over farm production costs per dozen. Taking Cal-Maine as the “bellwether” for the industry’s largest firms — as people in the egg business do — we can be pretty confident that the other large egg producers are also raking in profits off the relatively small dip in egg production.

High persistent profits are an anomaly for the industry. Historically, egg producers have responded to avian flu epidemics—and the temporary rise in egg prices that often accompanies them—by quickly rebuilding and expanding their flocks of egg-laying hens. “Fowl plagues”—as these epidemics used to be called—have been with us since at least the 19th century. Most recently, large-scale avian flu epidemics hit egg farms in 2015 and 1983-1984. The egg industry responded to both of these destructive events by sprinting to rebuild and expand the egg-laying hen flock — something which checked price increases and ultimately made sure prices went back to pre-epidemic levels within a reasonable time.

As Cal-Maine Foods explained in its 2007 Annual Report: “In the past, during periods of high profitability, shell egg producers have tended to increase the number of layers in production with a resulting increase in the supply of shell eggs, which generally has caused a drop in shell egg prices until supply and demand return to balance.”

This time around, however, that’s not happening. Despite high profits, the egg industry has somehow maintained a stubborn deficit in egg production capacity. Hatcheries — the firms that supply hens to egg producers — have throttled the pipeline of hens instead of expanding it. According to the Egg Industry Center, the size of the flock of “parent” hens — the hens used by hatcheries to produce layer chicks for egg producers — plummeted from 3.1 million hens in 2021, to 2.9 million in 2022, to 2.5 million hens in 2023 and 2024.

Meanwhile, hatcheries have been hatching significantly fewer parent chicks to replace aging ones — nearly 380,000 (or 12 percent) fewer in 2022 compared to the year before, and even fewer parent chicks in 2023 and 2024 — leaving the parent flock older and more likely to produce eggs that fail to hatch. That could explain why, although hatcheries reported producing 125-200 million more fertilized eggs to the USDA in each of the last three years compared to 2021, the number of eggs they’ve placed in incubators and the number of chicks they’ve hatched from those eggs has either declined or stayed basically steady with 2021 levels in every year since.

As for egg producers themselves, you may be surprised to learn that they have added between 5 and 20 million fewer pullets to their farms in every one of the last three years than they did in 2021. As the USDA observed with some astonishment at the end of 2022, “producers—despite the record-high wholesale price [of eggs]—are taking a cautious approach to expanding production[.]” The following month, it pared down its table-egg production forecast for the entirety of 2023 on account of “the industry’s [persisting] cautious approach to expanding production.”

In other words, the only thing that the egg industry seems to have expanded in response to the avian flu epidemic is windfall profits — which have likely amounted to more than $15 billion since the epidemic began (judging by the increase in the value of annual egg production since 2022), and appear to have been spent primarily on stock buybacks, dividends, and acquisitions of rivals instead of rebuilding and expanding flocks. When an industry starts profiting more from *not* producing than from producing, it’s a sign that something isn’t right. It could be an innocent bottleneck. But when it lasts for three years on end with no relief in sight, it's usually a sign of something else that’s pervasive in America — monopolization.

As the coming installments in this series will detail, the fundamental problem in the egg supply chain today is the simple fact that every industry involved in turning an egg into a chicken and turning a chicken into an egg—from the breeders and hatcheries that create the hens to the producers who use the hens to make eggs—has been hijacked by one or two financier-backed corporations, with the incentives flipped from competing entities seeking to produce more eggs to an oligopoly trying to restrain the production of eggs.

On one end of the egg supply chain, you have two companies who control chicken genetics, the billionaire-owned Erich Wesjohann Group and the private-equity-backed Hendrix Genetics. Headquartered a short car trip apart in Cuxhaven, Germany, and Boxmeer, Netherlands, these private firms have systematically gained control over the supply of egg-laying hens to American producers over the past two decades by buying out or suppressing rivals and challengers. Today, no egg producer in this country can expand the number of hens in its flock — or even replace the hens it already has when they age out or die — without the cooperation of this duopoly. And, since the value of hens rises with the price of the eggs, when the price of eggs is high these two barons have a clear interest in keeping the supply of pullets to producers on a tight leash — so the high prices stick.

On the other end of the egg supply chain, you have the largest egg producer in the country and the world, Cal-Maine Foods.

Matt Stoller from his monopolisation/cartel report; something that has clicked recently is the way that business seeks to maximise profit margin over volume, which often leads to reducing production, brittle supply chains, high prices, and ultimately shortages.

in principle this isn't supposed to happen under capitalism, because someone earning high profit margins should be outcompeted by new entrants willing to earn slightly lower profit margins, until (in the perfect frictionless market) the rate of profit should be whittled down to the rate of risk free return (government interest rates?) plus epsilon (a little bit).

obviously this does happen in reality for a number of reasons, and the Problem of Profits is a fun question to dig into, but the problem of persistently high profits is a more concerning issue and appears to be growing across multiple industries.

antitrust law is supposed to prevent market concentration that leads to this outcome but has been toothless since the '90s, allowing dramatic consolidation across dozens of old industries (groceries, agriculture, pharmacies, television, newspapers) and of course new industries (tech giants).

government regulation often ends up favouring incumbents, but it seems that contractual arrangements between suppliers and industry bodies and buying agents to form tight cartels are a bigger problem: if egg prices are high you might think to start an egg farm, but you need to find someone who will sell you chickens and someone who will buy your eggs, when the industry is using every means at their disposal to cut off market access to new entrants.

and of course if you have access to the gargantuan amount of capital required to attempt a serious challenge to an established cartel, why exactly would you want to start a price war with them when you can instead find some other unprotected industry to buy up and establish a cartel of your own?

capitalism seems to have entered a phase of its development equivalent to WWI, where defensive operations by incumbents are more successful than offense by new ventures, keeping the battle lines frozen in place (presumably the soldiers dying in their millions would be workers and consumers in this analogy).

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h1biscusgal · 2 months ago

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Tee hee y'all, i'm not back but i loved y'all sm so take this subliminal i took six days to perfect.

I AM NOT BACK, NO, I AM SO SORRY.

my studying session been going good AND YALLLLLLL I MISS YOU SO MUCH, I CAN'T EVEN EXPLAIN.

so, last week, when i closed tumblr, my mind was reeling from one thing it kept repeating itself:

"i wanna give smth to my people in tumblr."

why? i've seen people having problems for the void, i've seen people say they are so close but their "heartbeat" stops them, some say they sleep without knowing.

so i thought.

"mf, why not a subliminal that will fucking guarantee you to enter IN EVERRRYYYY situation?"

think you need to keep awake? this sub

think you need to sleep to enter the void? still this sub

need to enter while using it? this sub

need to enter but can't have your phone with you during sleep? again this sub, you can listen to it during the day and try at night.

like WHATEVER the fuck you do, i have made a loophole for it, now for god's sake please be careful, it gave me such a headache making it my head is still pounding, it has PURE fucking delta waves and 5 set of repeated NON-LAYERED NOT TOO SPED UP affirmations, why?

these are the safest type of affirmations that penetrate the subconscious, i cannot express this enough please.

PLEASE BE FUCKING CAREFUL WITH IT, DON'T LOOP TOO MUCH, DELTA WAVES CAN MAKE YOU DEADASS TIRED.

now this? holy shit this? i call it my beautiful Voided Hibiscus project, and yes i love hibiscuses-

this sub???

here's the benefits:

Voided Hibiscus is a one-of-a-kind, high-power subliminal crafted to guarantee entry into the Void State — no matter your state of mind, environment, or experience level.

Whether you're lying still or fidgeting, wide awake or asleep, listening consciously or with it running in the background — the moment this subliminal activates, the Void becomes inevitable, it is fucking guaranteed and i made so sure of it by science.

During these exact 22 minutes and 22 seconds, your mind will swallow THE LITERAL definition of "master at void." The affirmations are layered with master precision — spoken, whispered, echoed, reversed — to penetrate the deepest layers of the subconscious, bypassing every mental block, doubt, or distraction. Delta isochronic tones pulse beneath the surface, gently entraining your brain to the perfect frequency of surrender, silence, and awareness, like ya'll i am NOT playing.

This is for you if:

You want to enter the Void effortlessly, with full certainty.

You want to enter during the day, or while sleeping — either way works.

You’re tired of trying methods and want results without effort.

You want a subliminal that works permanently — even after you stop listening.

Features:

Affirmations that dissolve fidgeting, overthinking, boredom, and resistance.

Built-in confidence: You will never doubt your ability to enter the void again.

Repetition formula designed to rewrite your subconscious with absolute certainty.

Works even if you accidentally fall asleep.

Activates the Void even when played silently or in the background.

After consistent listening, your command over the Void becomes instinctual.

like mf, you is the bored type? you is the annoyed impatient as fuck type? you is the type to try for 2 minutes and give up? homie this shit will throw you in the void while you move, fidget, breathe hard, feeling bored, sleep accidentally.

like what the fuck am i supposed to do next-

THIS CAN BE USED IN THREE WAYS:

awake method: lay down and have it on your head (no mf you won't sleep accidentally and ruin it bc i backed it up that you'll wake up there) and simply repeat affs for it, watch yourself enter without even knowing how the fuck you entered, i swear if you trust? you'll enter within the duration of those 22 minutes and 22 seconds, there's no "when", it's like a guarantee.

sleep method: if you is the type that yo parents let you have your phone with you? use it overnight and watch yourself wake up in the void.

thru-theday method: just listen to it during the day and do any method before sleep or just anywhere and bam.

there's no "how" here, this sub? almost made me tumble, i am not tryna brag, no seriously, but i thought to post smth that helps ppl, now let me stop yapping the fuck out and take this:

(so sorry for this quick and messy post-)

youtube

good luck loves, and send me the asks and messages coming! i'll be on here for a very few minutes and see what asks there is to answer.

EDIT: I AM SORRY WHAT THE FUCK???? LAST TIME I CHECKED I HAD 661 FOLLOWERS NOW IT'S A 1700 SMTH????? I AM SCREAMING PLEASE I LOVE YALL SO MUCH??? I CAN'T BELIEVE IT I WANNA CRY PLEASE.

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unsolicited-opinions · 1 month ago

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You probably heard about the "14,000 babies in 48 hours" thing, but the media is doing a shit job of explaining it clearly.

Here's a recap:

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The Claim

On May 14, 2025, Tom Fletcher, United Nations Humanitarian Coordinator, claimed during an interview on BBC Radio 4 that "14,000 babies could die in the next 48 hours in Gaza" due to severe humanitarian conditions.

This is Tom Fletcher:

The figure Fletcher gave was based on a "misinterpretation" of a report from the Integrated Food Security Phase Classification (IPC).

What the IPC had actually projected was that 14,100 children aged 6 months to 5 years in Gaza were projected to suffer severe acute malnutrition over the 12-month period between April 2025 and March 2026 - not that they were all babies, nor that they would die, let alone within 48 hours.

The malnutrition claim was spurious enough, but claiming 14,000 babies would die in 48 hours was batshit insane.

HOW BATSHIT WAS IT?

Totally, blatantly batshit.

Let's do some math.

14,000 deaths in 48 hours = 291 babies per hour, or nearly 5 babies every minute, around the clock, 24 hours/day.

This level of mass death in such a short timeframe is unheard of outside of a nuclear catastrophe or an active extermination campaign...and no such event was occurring.

You'd think an expert from the UN would know the basic demographics, right?

Gaza has a population of roughly 2.3 million.

About 15% of the population is under 5 years old, or roughly 345,000 children.

Of those, the number of infants (under 12 months) is far smaller - closer to 50,000-60,000.

If 14,000 infants were to die in 48 hours, that would be over 25% of all babies in Gaza. In two days.

No known famine, epidemic, or conflict has ever produced that kind of child mortality in such a short span.

Not even historical attrocities accomplished that death rate.

Anyone with a basic understanding of child mortality statistics, humanitarian logistics, historical precedent, or basic mental math should have been immediately skeptical. The number was a red flag on its face and the claim should have prompted instant demands for sources, verification, and context.

Nobody in the Western legacy media seems to have made such demands.

Beleiving this claim required ignoring basic demographics, suspending disbelief about death rates, and trusting emotionally explosive language over factual scrutiny.

That didn't stop Tom from saying it.

That didn't stop news outlets from reporting it.

That didn't stop people from believing it.

What were the consequences?

Since no correction came from the UN for more than a week and nobody in the media thought to do their jobs and question it, this false claim lived in the world for those 8 days.

The claim was cited in the UK House of Commons during debates on Gaza and humanitarian aid. Politicians referred to the figure as fact, influencing rhetoric and public policy discussions.

The emotional weight of the claim increased pressure on Western governments to take urgent action or adopt stronger positions regarding Israel's actions in Gaza.

The figure was emotionally powerful and l inflamed already-deranged pro-Palestinian camps.

I'd argue it helped fan the flames of anti-Israel sentiment and antisemitism.

The claim circulated widely on the 20th and 21st.

Direct causation between the climate created by this misinformation and the shooting in DC on the 21st is speculative, but I'm seeing a lot of speculation on that. Here's Hen Mazzig:

Just days ago, the UN published a scandalous headline claiming that Israel would kill 14,000 babies in 48 hours. In reality, the report stated: "14,100 severe cases of malnutrition could occur over the next year among children under five, if aid doesn't reach them." See how one year becomes 48 hours? How potential illness becomes certain death? How children become babies? Which headline do you think the antisemitic shooter in Washington DC read, and remembered? Words matter. Blood libels have consequences. They led to the murder of Yaron Lischinsky and Sarah Milgrim.

May their memories forever be a blessing

Because the false UN claim remained uncorrected for over a week, many individuals and advocacy groups based their calls to action, posts, and even protests on a false premise - creating a widespread misunderstanding about the scale and urgency of the crisis.

Finally, today, May 22nd of 2025, more than a week later, the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) is reported to have issued a clarification, stating the claim was a misreading of the IPC data. I can't find any evidence of it, but that's what's being reported.

Tom Fletcher has not issued an apology or public retraction for his statement. It seems there will be no consequences for his incompetence.

#jumblr #antisemitism #14000 babies #Tom Fletcher #Un #United Nations #Misinformation #Disinformation

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afterthelambs · 1 month ago

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How I interpret Joker Persona 5

Since Joker is a silent self-insert protagonist it can be hard to get a reading on his characterization. He can make inconsistent choices gameplay-wise that clash with what was set up. He's supposed to be the righteous leader, and yet... you have the option to cheat on girlfriends, or sell your friends out to Yaldobaoth and become Evil, or doom the world for a selfish wish. It's easy to dismiss all that as 'not the true ending' but to me that would be boring and a cop-out. These are treated as equally-valid choices in terms of player input, so I think any interpretation of the character has to account for that. Like he is definitely a little unhinged.

Is Joker evil? No because he spends most of the game being a good guy and can choose to be a hero till the end. The desire to do the right thing is ingrained in his character.

So is he inherently good? No because it's coded into the game that he can betray all his morals. In P3, Makoto at worst betrays his team to protect them from pain. He never turns sinister the way Joker can in the Yaldobaoth-deal ending. P4 has an accomplice ending but even then you at least have collaboration of some sort, as opposed to Joker who is alone in his fall from heroism. The good ending being the 'true' ending doesnt erase the fact that Joker has the potential to go dark in a way the other protagonists dont. This is also a part of him, which I think makes him wayyyy more interesting.

So how are you supposed to reconcile all these inconsistencies into a cohesive characterization? Is it just 'out of character'?

Ironically, I think the best way to understand Joker's character is to first understand Akechi. If you accept that they are two sides of the same coin (and the game beats you over the head with that lol) then that means they share a lot of internal rage and pain about the world. It means Joker did not have his emotions together nor a healthy outlook on interpersonal relationships, at least in the beginning. It explains why a lot of Joker's confidants start out transactional. The main difference (asides from Akechi being more marginalized) is that Joker has the opportunity to respond to his traumas in a healthier way. He channels his rage into a good cause, and he can choose to do so til the very end (ie the true ending). It also explains how he can reach a breaking point and go down a darker path instead, similar to Akechi.

This is my preferred way of interpreting Joker in light of all the wildly different directions he takes in the actual game. It's why I personally like my Joker characterization as a little unhinged, a little dark, very emotionally troubled and evasive, AND very kind + empathetic to others despite that. He knows he's a little fucked up inside and that's why he's desperate to do the right thing. Joker isn't just good by nature, he actively chooses to be.

If you need any more proof, look at Maruki. He's the only other character that gets this much parallels drawn with Joker. But the ways that Joker's characterization can be derived from Maruki is a whole other post. I'll probably get to that some day, but it's interesting that when the writers decided to make a parallel to Joker for an extended story, they went with another unhinged antagonist that understands him on a deeper level.

#obligatory disclaimer that this is my personal interpretation + im not invalidating anyone who headcanons/ interprets differently #anyway i like Joker a lot. on the surface he seems pretty weakly-written because of the silent protag limitation #but i think analyzing him with the context of the other characters does a lot for his writing #people who say “he doesnt have a personality” or “he's just a self insert” are wrong #he's one of the most interesting characters. it just gets buried by the writing team smh #also dark!joker fics are fantastic. i LOVE when authors explore that part of his character. ur doing god's work thank u #my post #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #p5 #p5r #akira kurusu #goro akechi #takuto maruki #p5r analysis #persona 5 analysis #shuake #p5r akira #p5r akechi #p5r maruki

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lynxgriffin · 3 months ago

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Eldritchrune - Pathetic House

Story Setup Eldritchrune Masterpost

Back in the light world, the empire is still causing trouble for Hometown, and Undyne tries to stand up to it! She instead has an unexpected run-in with Alphys, and gets a reminder of past mistakes...

Yaaay, finally got another comic out! I wanted to tackle a scene that was a bit shorter and simpler, and check in on some more of Hometown's residents! What might happen to them when Kris gets back is anyone's guess!...

Alt text for this comic is under the read more:

Page 1

Panel 1 - Full body shot of a Hometown resident - the little goblin character dancing in the rain, but now presented as a human with poofy hair and a small hat. They happily splash around in a muddy puddle around one of Hometown’s streets, kicking up water.

Panel 2 - Inset panel as the teen is startled out of their splashing, eyes wide, with a sudden yell from off-panel: “HEY!”

Panel 3 - They turn around fast to see Undyne approaching them. She’s a tall human with her red hair tied back, dressed in boots, a sensible work skirt and vest, and arm guards. She strides purposefully towards the teen.

Panel 4 - Over-the-shoulder shot of Undyne as she looks down at the teen. They pull their hands together, looking a little nervous. “O-officer Undyne! I was just having a bit of fun here… Good rain last night…”

Panel 5 - Mid shot of Undyne as she raises up a hand reassuringly, and says, “Hey, you’re not in trouble! But that rain’s flooded some of the torn up road here…you’re gonna twist an ankle!”

Panel 6 - Undyne kneels down more to the teen’s level and points ahead. She says, “Just head up to the town square. It’s safer to jump around there.” The rain-loving teen immediately dashes off in the direction she points. “Oh great! Thanks, Undyne!” They say, waving at her.

Panel 7 - Small closeup panel as Undyne watches them go, smiling…

Panel 8 - Her smile then vanishes as she hears a THUNK sound from offscreen. She glances to her left with an annoyed expression.

Page 2

Panel 1 - She turns and looks at the source of the sound. Undyne stands in the foreground, while ahead, two empire solders dressed in armor are facing an old, dilapidated house with a broken window. An old skeleton of a large tree looms nearby. One of the soldiers laughs and throws a rock at the old house.

Panel 2 - Closer shot of the two soldiers, still both laughing. Another one, the larger of the two, holds up another rock…

Panel 3 - And throws it at the house again. It knocks off the old building’s side with a loud THUNK!

Panel 4 - Closeup on Undyne as she yells angrily at them: “HEY!!”

Panel 5 - Wide shot as Undyne marches purposefully towards the two soldiers. The scene is framed by overgrown grasses and shrubbery. “What do you think you’re doing?!” she says as she strides towards them.

The larger soldier replies, “What concern is it of yours?” Panel 6 - Undyne holds out one hand towards the old house, still annoyed. “Hometown is *my* jurisdiction, and you’re bothering the Ghost Cousins! So yeah, *my* concern!”

Panel 7 - Medium shot of the larger soldier, who just looks back at Undyne. “‘Ghost Cousins’?” he says, incredulous.

Page 3

Panel 1 - A mostly empty panel, except for Undyne, who holds up one finger to explain. “Yeah, Nap Spook, Mettle Tom, and Mad Muse! They all died years ago, and this house is *their* spot. It’s rude to pester him!”

In the background are images of the three ghosts she’s mentioned: Nap Spook, a light blue ghost with curly hair that looks withdrawn and sleepy. Mettle Tom, who resembles Mettaton, with their fancy clothes and hair flip. However, here they don’t have their usual bombastic flair, and appear more withdrawn. The last one, Mad Muse, appears as a more furious poltergeist, with flaming hair.

Panel 2 - Medium shot of the two empire soldiers. The skinnier one leans into the larger, and says to him, “Angel, they were right…these folks are *so* superstitious.”

The larger soldier addresses Undyne: “You lot believe in haunted houses?”

Panel 3 - Undyne faces the two soldiers as the larger one waves to him. “Well, we’re going to take care of this one for you.”

“What?!” Undyne says, not liking where this is going.

Panel 4 - Upshot of the old ghost house. It’s looking pretty unkempt and worn down, with the old tree looming overhead. Offscreen, the soldier says, “This dilapidated old place needs to be torn down. It’s taking up space that could go to much better use.”

Panel 5 - Medium shot of Undyne as she gestures angrily back at the house. “The Ghost Cousins have a right to *their* house!” she says, insistent.

Page 4

Panel 1 - Medium shot as Undyne faces down the two soldiers, all three of them framed by the haunted house in the background. “You empire jerks think you can just show up and push us around?! This town is my home, and my charge!” she says, pointing a finger in the face of the closest soldier. “I’m not gonna let you tell *us* how we should use our own land!”

Panel 2 - Medium shot of the two soldiers, neither of which seem worried by her threat. The skinny one holds up his hands in mock worry, and says, “Oooh, such a big, *scary* threat from the backwater guard!”

The larger one grins and says, “A direct request from the Knight to your Mayor should be sufficient to get this place demolished.”

Panel 3 - Undyne doesn’t seem impressed by the threat either. She sneers back at them, “Need your stupid boss to tell you *how* to push us around?”

Panel 4 - Full body shot of the three still standing in front of the ghost house. “Tch…should’ve expected that from creeps like *you*,” she says, still pointing.

The larger soldier raises an arm to hold back the thinner one from moving forward, looking aggravated. The soldier says, “Unlike superstitious bumpkins like you, the Knight knows how to properly *run* things. How to keep this country in order.”

Page 5

Panel 1 - Single shot of the larger soldier, who continues with a sneer: “And we’ll *all* be better off once your backwater town realizes that and starts *contributing* to the empire.”

Panel 2 - Closeup shot on Undyne as she narrows her eyes and grimaces. This definitely pissed her off.

Panel 3 - Undyne gets up in the soldier’s face, clearly raring for a fight. “How about your big, holy Knight comes down here, and I’ll *contribute* a few good punches to their face!” The soldier stands stalwart against her threat.

Panel 4 - Even though Undyne is close in on him, he just smiles at this suggestion. “Ha! You, actually fight the *Knight*? I’d like to see you try!”

Panel 5 - Medium shot as Undyne spins on her heel and begins to march off as the two soldiers look on. “Then how ‘bout I drag them down here for you to see!” she says, and turns to go and do just that–

Panel 6 - Only to suddenly run head-on into Alphys coming in from the other direction. The soldiers watch as the two collide, sending Alphys’ books and papers flying–

Panel 7 - Alphys and Undyne both fall to the ground from the force of the sudden impact, and land in the mud with a splash. Alphys’ papers scatter everywhere.

Page 6

Panel 1 - Medium shot of the two soldiers as they burst into uproarious laughter. The thinner one slaps his knee, and the larger one throws his head back to guffaw at the two of them.

Panel 2 - Alphys and Undyne are still trying to collect themselves in the mud as the two soldiers walk past them and head back towards town. While the thinner one keeps laughing, the larger one ways to them and says, “Good luck with that, bumpkin!”

Panel 3 - Undyne quickly stands up in the foreground, while below her, Alphys quickly scrambles to get to her feet and pick up her dropped books and papers. There’s mud all over her coat. “O-ohmygosh, I’m s-SO sorry, Undyne! I didn’t see you there…” she stammers.

Panel 4 - Wider shot as Undyne helps Alphys retrieve her dropped papers. “Ngggah, it’s fine. I just can’t stand those weasely empire creeps,” she says, glaring in the direction where the soldiers disappeared.

Alphys sadly agrees, “T-they really won’t l-leave us alone, huh…”

Panel 5 - The two are now fully back on their feet. Undyne hands the remaining lost books and papers over to Alphys, who takes them back into her arms. “T-T-thanks, Undyne!” she says, blushing noticeably.

Panel 6 - Over-the-shoulder shot of Alphys as she holds tight onto her books. Ahead of her, Undyne reaches behind her head and offers an awkward smile back. “Yeah, it’s…no big deal,” she says.

Page 7

Panel 1 - Wide shot of Alphys and Undyne standing by the ghost house. It still seems forgotten and dilapidated in the background, but the two are now focused on each other. “So, what’re you up to by the ghost house, anyway?” Undyne asks.

Alphys replies, “Oh, I-I just wanted a bit of moody reading atmosphere!”

Panel 2 - Medium shot of Alphys as she holds out one of her books, admiring the title. “I got a new fantasy story, a-and I’m excited to give it a read…”

Panel 3 - Medium shot of Undyne as she smiles, and gestures towards Alphys’ book. “Nice that you got the time to dig into it right away!”

Panel 4 - Alphys’ face drops a little, and she hugs the books to her again. “W-well, I haven’t had as many kids to tutor these days.”

Panel 5 - Shot of the two women standing together, although Alphys is now turned away, lost in an upsetting thought. “Usually on Tuesdays, I gave Kris some tutoring, b-but…they ran off last fall, so…” At the name, Undyne suddenly starts.

Panel 6 - Focus on Undyne as she looks away, her expression guilty and perhaps regretful. In the background in grayscale, there is a memory of Toriel and Asgore sacrificing Kris to the demon prince…Undyne was also present, wearing a fish mask.

Page 8

Panel 1 - Closeup on Alphys as she continues: “I-I can’t imagine them r-running out on the Dreemurrs! Especially Azzy! So…m-maybe it was m-me…they j-just got so sick of how I taught things, t-they had to escape it…” Alphys looks sad and self-depreciating, somehow only thinking of how this might be her fault.

Panel 2 - Medium shot as Undyne puts a reassuring hand on Alphys’ shoulder, causing Alphys to look back up at her. “Hey, don’t talk like that! I don’t think that would’ve been it…” Undyne says.

Panel 3 - “I’m sure your teaching is great!” Undyne says, and tries to give her an encouraging smile.

Panel 4 - Alphys looks up at her with admiration, taking her encouragement to heart. “G-gosh, that’s nice of you to say! And uh…”

Panel 5 - “Whatever those soldier creeps might’ve said to you, I k-know *you’re* a better peacekeeper than they’ll ever be!” Alphys continues in a wide shot of the two. Undyne keeps her hand on Alphys’ shoulder.

Panel 6 - Closeup on Undyne’s unsure expression…unlike Alphys, she can’t really take the encouragement to heart. With what she’s participated in, she doesn’t know how good of a peacekeeper she really is now.

Page 9

Panel 1 - Still, Undyne is determined to put on a good face for this woman who’s clearly pining for her. In a medium shot, she gestures to herself with a big smile. “At least for this town, I’m gonna do whatever I can!” Alphys looks up at her with admiration and fondness.

Panel 2 - Wide shot of the ghost house, old tree and surrounding mud-speckled road. Undyne leads Alphys away from town, and more towards the gloomy old forests surrounding them. “And for you, let’s find you that perfect mood spot!” she says.

#lynx art #eldritchrune #deltarune au #undyne #alphys #plus the one rain dancing goblin who maybe will get a name in the future #they needed a meet-cute...but under different circumstances!#also finally got to show the ghost cousins at least a little bit #sorry they've kinda been neglected

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aureatelys · 4 months ago

Text

as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!bau!reader w.c.: 6k a/n: inspired by that one gifset of hotch desperately needing some moisturizer on his neck im so sorry. also my first time writing hotch's pov, pls be gentle. c.w.: fluff! friends to lovers, kinda sunshine/girly!reader, mutual pining, alcohol mention, author pretending like they know about skincare, hotch is whipped and touch starved af, no y/n

summary:

You think Hotch needs to take better care of himself. Hotch doesn't know what to think. Or, 5 times you teach Hotch about skincare more than he wants to and 1 time he teaches you.

read below or ao3 here

one.

When Hotch first walks into the conference room ready to go over a new case, there’s something different that he can’t quite put his finger on.

Words dying in his throat, he sweeps his eyes over the entire room and doesn’t see anything significantly out of place. Then he’s passing over everyone’s faces, mentally keeping a note on how exhausted most of them are looking, and then landing on you.

Having only joined a couple of months ago, you were still fairly new to the team. However, with your sunny disposition and eagerness to learn, you blended right in. Hotch had watched in amusement as you were able to keep up with Reid’s ramblings, Morgan’s flirting, and Garcia’s antics. You were insightful, able to give new perspectives that Hotch would never have even considered, patient with victims and their families, and Hotch admired you for that.

Today, however, you look considerably suspicious as you give him a sheepish smile and a little wave. “Morning, Hotch,” you say, eyes sparkling, followed by a round of greetings from the rest of the team.

“Morning.” And then he spots a machine on the table near the wall, shaped and designed like a cat and spouting off what looks like steam at a steady and continuous rate.

Now that he’s noticed it, he realizes the conference room feels significantly stickier, the sudden humidity a stark contrast to the dry winter air outside. He can sense the slight congestion he’s been waking up to the past several months gradually disappearing.

“It’s a humidifier,” you explain after spotting the slightly confused expression Hotch was wearing, as if he’s never seen one before. To be fair, he doesn’t think he’s seen one in years as Haley was usually the one who dug it out of storage when Jack wasn’t feeling well. “I brought it from home, I thought it was a little dry in here. Is that okay?”

“I hope so, I was worried about getting a nosebleed the other day.”

“It’s good to have it around during this time of year, Hotch. Did you hear Anderson coughing this morning?”

“It’s also beneficial to have one on while you sleep, both with the white noise and being able to clear your sinuses and breathe easier with its optimal humidity levels.”

Truthfully, Hotch doesn’t care and he’s sure there isn’t some ridiculous regulation about not allowing a small humidifier, especially when Garcia has two space heaters in her office that you’ve had to ask to borrow at least twice a week.

However, the way you’re glancing up at him now from your spot at the round table, eyes wide and fluffy pink scarf wrapped around you because you apparently run colder than the rest of the team, Hotch would probably let you get away with anything.

He immediately sets that thought aside, not wanting to dwell on exactly what that means right now. He takes the only empty seat left that just happened to be right next to you, making sure to keep a respectable distance. “It’s fine. Just make sure to turn it off and empty it before we go.”

You give him a blinding smile that momentarily distracts him from the bubbling humidifier and the clouds of mist that are nearly falling into his face. “Sure thing. Did you know that it can also help with dry skin? So technically, we’re just taking care of our bodies if they ask why we need it.”

Although it makes sense now that he thinks about it, Hotch didn’t know that. He also doesn’t remember the last time he put on lotion or moisturizer, no matter how dry his hands felt.

Just then, Garcia wobbles in with her yellow heels and coffee mug, immediately launching into the brutal details of the case and where the team will be headed out to for the next couple of days.

When Hotch gets up to grab his go-bag from the office, he tries to ignore how it feels like he can breathe a little bit easier.

two.

“God, it’s freezing in here.”

Hotch glances up from his laptop mid-report to witness you taking the seat next to his with a resounding oof. You’re wrapped up in a blanket that you had brought from home that has somehow taken permanent residence on the jet, shivering despite the heater being on full blast. The corner of it lands on his knee, soft and warm.

The team had just finished a case in rural Montana, surrounded by mountains of snow and the wilderness. You had remembered to pack warmly at least, as Hotch had witnessed you struggling to take off the several layers of sweaters every time you arrived at the precinct. He remembers frowning in the car on the way to apprehend the unsub as you shivered in the passenger seat, having had to wear only a layer or two due to the bulky Kevlar vest and needing to be quick on your feet.

“It’ll warm up here in a second,” Hotch says, already wracking around his brain to see if there was another blanket hidden in a compartment somewhere. “A cup of tea will probably help.”

You slouch down further in your seat, cocooning yourself even further under the thick blanket. “I don’t want to get up.”

Hotch is almost tempted to lock his computer and get up to make you that cup of tea himself, however he glances around the cabin and notices several knowing pairs of eyes on him. He doesn’t have to be a profiler to know what the rest of the team thinks—that he’s gone soft on you.

You with your fuzzy blue blanket wrapped around your shoulders like a cape and the thick socks that you put in your bag specifically for the plane ride home. He knows he’s not imagining the lingering glances you throw at Hotch or the way you occasionally stay late as an excuse to bother him in his office.

And he doesn’t necessarily mind. There’s a strange, innate pull that tugs in his stomach when it comes to you, causing him to watch you more carefully and seeking out your presence at almost every opportunity. The sheer grip of panic on his heart when you were shot after taking down an unsub by yourself and without backup several months ago had Hotch re-evaluating everything he knew about himself.

He’s aware of the possible repercussions, which is exactly why Hotch has learned to be patient when it comes to you, who has threatened him to forgo his patience altogether with every bubbly laugh he can hear from his office or knock of your shoulders against his in the conference room.

So he doesn’t get up to make you that cup of tea despite knowing how you take it with a splash of milk and two sugars, and instead turns back to finish the action report.

It’s only several minutes later when he notices you rummaging around in your bag out of the corner of his eye before you pull out a small and colorful lotion bottle with a triumphant noise. You pop the cap open and slather some on your hands before you’re turning to face Hotch again, the novel that Reid recommended to you untouched on the table. “Do you want some?”

The bottle in your hand looks somewhat familiar, most likely something he’s passed by at the store or on your desk, but Hotch balks at the pink flowers painted all over the bottle. He’s lucky the undoubtedly suffocating smell hasn’t hit him yet. “I’m fine, thanks.”

But you don’t put the lotion back in your bag, instead shifting in your seat until you’re fully facing him. Your blanket is nearly draped over Hotch’s thigh. “Are you sure? You know, it’s really important to make sure your hands are moisturized, especially with how cold it is here.”

He doesn’t know why you’re so adamant about this, peering up at him with bright and eager eyes and the open lotion bottle poised over his hands. He’s never liked putting on lotion, or any kind of creams, as it always made his hands feel uncomfortably greasy. He would eventually wash it off anyway.

He turns his attention back to his laptop, yet wordlessly puts a hand out towards your direction.

He thinks you’re going to pour a generous dollop and let him rub his own hands together, but instead, he nearly jumps in his seat when you’re grabbing onto his hand with both of yours and slathering whatever’s leftover on your hands into his palms and the back of his hands.

Your hands are cold, even moreso than his, but the sharp tingle that runs up his arm at your touch causes something warm to bloom in his chest.

“I didn’t want to waste it,” you respond to the confusion on his face. You’re thorough; making sure to slather the cream in between his fingers and even down to his wrists. He senses the sneaking glances the rest of the team are throwing his way, maybe even smug, but he’s painstakingly distracted by the way your hands look in his, the way he can feel both of your hands gradually warming up.

And then you’re pulling away, and Hotch suddenly misses your tender touch.

Like he expected, his palms suddenly feel gross, unpleasantly slippery like he has oil all over them. He wants to rub his palms on his pants or go wash his hands, but your watchful eyes stop him.

And then it hits him— the sudden scent of you, floral with some hints of vanilla, overwhelming his senses. It’s undeniably the same scent as your perfume, the one that seems to linger every time you stride past him at the office or when you’re leaning over Hotch to laugh at something Morgan said. Now, it causes him to sharply inhale, chest feeling unnervingly tight as he unconsciously marks it to his memory.

You’re still watching him with an expectant smile, bottle stored away in your bag for you to pull out again after you’ve gotten up to use the restroom and used the cheap hand soap that you’ve repeatedly complained about before. You look unfazed, as if your simple touch hasn’t sent Hotch’s brain reeling.

“It’s nice,” Hotch manages to say, voice only slightly strained. The smell is not as strong as he expected, but it’s still doing strange things to his heart more than he’d like to admit.

If possible, your smile widens. “Just nice?”

“Well, I don’t think it’s quite my signature scent.”

You hum and turn away, picking up your book despite Hotch knowing you’re not going to read a single page of it today, the spine already creased from where you’ve been laying it face down multiple times over the past month. “No, your signature scent already fits you.”

Hotch says nothing, not entirely sure how to respond to that, but your attention is already caught by the game of cards Reid and Emily are playing several seats away. You immediately set your novel down and scramble up and out of your seat to be their enthusiastic audience, leaving a trail of vanilla behind you.

Hotch immediately misses the warmth of your blanket.

three.

“What are you looking for now?”

You’ve been digging through your bag, your pink personal one that’s almost as big as your go bag, for the past five minutes. Hotch can hear the various items clinking around and the crinkling of multiple old receipt papers as you curse under your breath. He frowns, tempted to encourage you to clean out your bag if only to make packing more convenient for you. He couldn’t count the number of times you’ve exclaimed on the jet that you had forgotten something.

The team had gotten called to another small rural town in North Dakota for an unsub that’s been killing during the protective guise of blizzards, which is why Hotch was driving so painstakingly slow that Morgan would’ve surely had an aneurysm if he was in the same car. Despite the roads having already been salted, there was still a concerning amount of ice on the roads that had Hotch sitting ramrod straight in his seat and gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were nearly turning white.

Luckily, it was only you and Hotch in the car, heater on full blast. You’re wearing at least three sweaters today with your coat draped over your legs and haven’t even complained once about it being too cold, citing how you’ve never seen this much snow before in your life. Hotch found it all extremely endearing watching you nearly jump in your seat at how the evergreen trees looked covered in snow. Like a Christmas movie, you had said.

“Found it!” You pull out a travel sized bottle of sunscreen, hurriedly twisting the cap open to squeeze and draw lines down three fingers.

Hotch glances at you out of the corner of his eye, brow furrowed in confusion at your strange method. “Sunscreen? Are we going to the beach?”

“God, I hope not. I didn’t think to pack a swimsuit.” You roll your eyes while slathering the cream on your forehead, cheeks, down your neck, and even strangely over your ears before rubbing the rest on the back of your hands.

Hands tightening on the steering wheel, Hotch clears his throat. “I didn’t expect you to be so invested in your skin health.”

“It’s called skincare, Hotch,” you tease, screwing the cap back on but suspiciously leaving it out on your lap. “And it’s important to take care of your skin. Did you know that snow reflects UV rays, so even during winter you should put on sunscreen?”

Hotch chuckles before he could stop himself. “You’re starting to sound like Reid.”

“Did you want some?” You’re twisting your body again to face Hotch, eyes sparkling despite it being horribly dreary and cloudy outside.

The only times Hotch has worn sunscreen was during especially hot summer days when he took Jack to the park or to go swimming. He’s seen you apply sunscreen in the office even when it was raining outside and the sun wasn’t forecasted to come out that day. He’s grown to learn not to ask questions.

“I’m okay, thanks.” The answer’s immediate, partly because he doesn’t need sunscreen and partly because he is concentrating on not crashing into a ditch.

“Come on, Hotch, it’s good for you!” He knows this is exactly the same thing you said on the jet several weeks ago, and since then, every time you’re putting on lotion and he’s somewhere in the near vicinity, you’re already squeezing some on his hands before he could respectfully decline. Luckily, you haven’t tried to apply it for him again.

You’re incredibly stubborn and Hotch wonders if you’re persuading the rest of the team to invest in expensive and fruity-smelling creams in an effort to have everyone properly take care of their bodies like you are with him.

“Alright.” And then he’s pulling his foot off the gas pedal just a bit to compensate for the distraction of having to put his hand out, desperately hoping you’re not going to lean over to apply it to his own face.

You luckily don’t squeal in excitement like he expected, just silently squirting the cream into careful and meticulous lines on his three fingers. Hotch can tell it’s definitely more of an expensive brand than what he was used to during the summer—lightweight and smelling like nothing.

Hotch carefully slathers it onto his face, starting at his forehead, down his nose, and then out to his cheeks and his chin. There’s still quite a lot left on his fingers and he remembers how you made sure to spread some on your neck, so Hotch does the same thing. However, he is definitely not going to put some on his ears.

Satisfied, you put the sunscreen away and twist as best as you could underneath your thick layers to put your bag in the backseat, because the floor of the car was too wet from the snow from your shoes.

“Happy?” Hotch’s face inexplicably feels greasier than he would like, but it’s not as bad as the vanilla-scented lotion or the cheap sunscreen laying forgotten in his closet. It’s already absorbed into his skin and when he rubs a hand along his jaw, he realizes that it must have had some moisturizer in it as well because his face feels softer than he was used to.

“Ecstatic,” you say, turning your face towards the window to hide the wide grin spreading across your face.

four.

The fourth time Hotch learns about skincare from you was completely and utterly by accident.

It had been a long and brutal couple of days chasing a serial in Tennessee, one that had nearly as much technological experience as Garcia. He had been two steps ahead of them until tonight, when they had finally caught a break and caught him before he could take any more women to hold hostage.

The all-consuming relief was palpable during dinner at the hotel restaurant despite the underlying knowledge that the same thing was going to happen next week. Conversation flowed, drinks were had, and Hotch was adamantly ignoring the fleeting looks you were throwing his way across the table.

Hotch and you had been dancing around each other for months, tension so tangible that the rest of the team were starting to feel uncomfortable. He’s been able to brush off Dave’s sly remarks in the privacy of his office, Morgan and Emily’s raised eyebrows tossed in his direction at every interaction he had with you, and Garcia’s elbow jabs at every possible second when you were in the room.

It's been frustrating for him, to say the least. He can’t tell them that he can’t make that choice for you, that he’s too conscious to not cross any of those professional boundaries himself. If that means that Hotch has to wait for several more months for you to make the first move, if that even happens, then so be it.

When Hotch watches the way you throw your head back in laughter at something Dave says at dinner, eyes bright and face slightly flushed from the wine, he thinks he’d be willing to wait as long as you wanted.

After being nearly kicked out of the restaurant from being too rowdy and Hotch hinting at being able to take the rest of tomorrow off once they fly back in town early, the team quietly shuffles back to their respective rooms. He knows there’s about a 50/50 chance that most of them will sneak out to a nearby bar in ten minutes, but at least he warned them ahead of time.

“Night, Hotch,” you had said, giving him a little smile and wave before your door across the hallway clicked shut.

Something warm settled in Hotch’s chest at that, so he did the most reasonable thing to cope with the unfamiliar and turned the TV on to a random news channel. With the volume on low and his laptop and files laid out on the rickety table, he got to work.

Several hours pass like that as he throws himself into the fine print, going over everyone’s action reports from last week and shuffling through old crime photos to make sure everything matched. It was a familiar process, and almost concerning with how much comfort he’s found in it—the scratch of his pen, the drone of the city several floors down, and the growing smudge of ink on his hand from his thoughts running faster than he could write.

When he gets to your report and notices it’s missing several key points of the case, as well as your loopy signature, he frowns.

The immediate thought that comes to mind would be to just put the file aside and move onto the other one. It wasn’t as if the report was due this second and he knows there were plenty of others that required more immediate attention.

The other thought that emerges, almost reluctantly, was that Hotch could easily go across the hallway and ask you to take a look at it and finish the report rather than waiting for the following morning on the jet when the rest of the team was undoubtedly going to be hungover. Prentiss was most certainly going to be cranky and demand everyone to be quiet because the hum of the jet was already grating enough. He’d just be doing the team a favor.

That’s what Hotch tells himself as he stands up from the low desk, neck and back aching, and makes his way out his room and to yours across the hall.

He briefly pauses, straining his ears as if he could hear anything through the door and over the erratic thumping of his own heart. Hotch is suddenly aware that you may be sleeping, or even out with the rest of the ladies to a sleazy bar, and he’s about to turn back around with defeat weighing heavy on his shoulders when he hears the click of the bathroom door open and your humming, faint even through the thick wooden door.

Feeling confident that he’s not disturbing you and something else Hotch can’t name at the fact that he’s going to be seeing you in the privacy of your hotel room, he raps twice against the door.

“Just a second!” And then the door swings open.

Hotch’s attention is immediately caught by the fluffy headband you’re wearing, light pink and with a comically large bow in the center. You’ve clearly just gotten out of the shower, the scent of your body wash infiltrating Hotch’s senses and causing him to tighten his grip on the files he forgot he was holding in the first place.

You’re wearing a matching set of light blue pajamas, short and clinging to your body in a way that has Hotch immediately tearing his gaze away and back to your bare face. Your lips are glossy, slicker than normal, there’s a drop of water slowly trailing down the side of your neck, and a dab of cream on your cheek that you seem to have not noticed.

“Hotch?” you ask, confused, before letting out a squeak and crossing your arms over your chest in an effort to hide your modesty. Hotch ignores the fact that it just makes everything worse. “Is everything okay? Don’t tell me there’s a case.”

The droplet of water has disappeared underneath the collar of your shirt and the scent of vanilla nearly suffocates him. “No case. Just needed to get your final touches and signature on this report.”

He hopes his voice doesn’t sound as strained to you as it does to him as he remembers why he was standing in your hotel doorway in the first place, the files in his hand suddenly weighing like a ton.

You don’t seem to notice anything wrong, if anything, a slow smile spreads across your face that has Hotch’s stomach flipping.

You look radiant, the intimacy of being near you in your pajamas when you were clearly in the middle of your nighttime routine not going unnoticed. He peers over the top of your head to notice your go bag on your bed, clothes and your personal laptop strewn all over the comforter, and the TV being tuned to what you’d call an “entertaining yet trashy show.”

“You’re still working even though you’re the one who suggested having an early night? It’s late.”

Hotch blinks at you because what else would he have done if not attempt to catch up on the seemingly never-ending pile of papers and reports? “You’re still up late too.”

You roll your eyes. “I was just about to go to bed before you knocked, so technically I have better work-life boundaries than you.”

“Do you want me to come back tomorrow?”

You study him—still wearing his suit sans the jacket, tie only slightly loosened and sleeves rolled up his forearms. He hadn’t even bothered to put his shoes back on, comfortable enough with the hotel’s reputation to be in his room and take the two steps across the carpeted hallway in his socks.

“As long as you make it fast.” And then you’re stepping aside and opening the door further, the sweetness of the vanilla nearly pulling Hotch in.

Except he’s somehow distracted by the dollop of cream still on your cheek, right underneath your eye. Witnessing first-hand the twinkling of your eyes as you glance up at him and the way your pink headband has your hair pushed back, baring the most of your face he’s ever seen, has him sidetracked.

“You have a little…” He motions to his own face, hoping that you will take the hint.

And you don’t, not exactly, because of course you don’t. You immediately swipe at your face but on the wrong cheek and stare down at your hand when you don’t catch anything. “What?”

Hotch is a problem-solver, meticulous, and always thinks things through. That’s his job, to always be two steps ahead of anyone and everyone. So he’s not sure how or why he’s suddenly reaching a hand out to swipe at the cream on your face with his thumb, his touch lingering on the warmth of your cheek.

Whatever Hotch was going to say dies in his throat at the very audible hitch of your breath, the way your eyes widen at his close proximity. Your skin is smooth, softer than anything he’s ever felt, and he ignores the way you’re staring into him as he pulls back and absentmindedly rubs the moisturizer in the palm of his other hand. If he tries hard enough, the cream on his own skin nearly replicates the feeling of yours.

He's about to clear his throat to apologize, maybe even mention something about how the report can technically wait until tomorrow and turn right on his heel back into his room to ignore the adamant weight pressing down on his chest, when your expression changes.

Something almost akin to smugness tugs at the corners of your lips, the shininess inexplicably different and more distracting than your usual lipstick. Your bright eyes dance with amusement before your arms fall from where they were crossed on your chest to your sides.

“You know, I’m wearing a lip mask right now if you want some of that too.”

“Excuse me?”

If possible, your grin widens, causing Hotch to internally deny that he was suddenly feeling breathless. “I use a lip mask every night. They just make them look so kissable, right?”

Something in Hotch snaps, because if that wasn’t a clear invitation, he doesn’t know what is.

When he finally steps into your room, closing the door behind him, you’re slowly backing up until you’re pressed up against the nearest wall with that infuriating grin on your face.

You’re playing with him, you’ve been playing with him, but he doesn’t care and can’t even think about that when you’re peering up at him with soft eyes.

When Hotch brings a hand up to cradle your cheek, he thinks his stomach nearly twists itself into a knot at the immediate way you lean into him and the way your eyes flutter shut.

When he finally kisses you, he can smell the sweetness of the raspberry lip mask before he tastes it, seamlessly blending in with your vanilla body wash and making him feel more drunk than he’s felt in a long time.

You place your hands on his chest, your warmth seeping through the fabric of his shirt, and something about touching him has you unconsciously parting your lips to deepen the kiss, causing the smell of raspberry to become stronger.

Hotch can immediately feel the stickiness of your mask on his mouth, and he’s tempted to pull away at the unfamiliarity of something on his lips, but then you’re sighing into him and his hands are suddenly on your waist where the bottom of your pajama top has barely lifted. The warmth of your skin was intoxicating.

You have to be the first one to break the kiss, and when Hotch opens his eyes, you’re staring at him, your smirk having morphed into a smile of disbelief. His eyes flit to the almost imperceptible smear of gloss at the corner of your mouth.

“You have a little…” You trail off, your eyes drifting to his own lips, your smile doing nothing to calm the erratic rhythm Hotch’s heart has taken.

Hotch wonders how much you had put on yourself because the amount that he can feel on his lips makes him immediately want to swipe at his mouth. But that would mean having to take his hands off of you and he doesn’t think he has the willpower for that.

Instead, he rubs his lips together in an effort to spread the tackiness equally over his lips before he says “I like it, but I don’t think I got enough.”

You huff a laugh at that, your fingers tightening from where they’re gripping the lapels of his dress shirt. “I think I can help you with that.”

five.

“Are you okay in there?”

“Just five more minutes, I promise!”

That’s what you had said ten minutes ago. It’s not like Hotch is impatient per se, just content that you had agreed to sleep over again after another late date night and there wasn’t a looming case coming up.

You had only slept over one other time when the team had gotten back from a case late and Hotch wasn’t going to let you drive yourself home when you could barely keep yourself standing. You had dozed off the entire car ride home, head leaning against the window which caused Hotch to adamantly avoid all the potholes and tight turns, and yet you still managed to do your skincare routine in his ensuite bathroom before coming to bed.

After that night in your hotel room, you’ve become bolder. You’re now sitting next to Hotch on the jet, you make your way up to his office when there were still plenty of people milling about in the bullpen, and the way you peer up at him through your eyelashes during case briefings has him itching for a cold shower.

Neither have you said anything to the rest of the team, but at this point, Hotch doesn’t think he has to with the way both Dave and Morgan have patted him on the back the day after you laughed at something Emily had said and leaned against him, leaving his shoulder thrumming from your warmth for the next hour.

Another five minutes pass and Hotch can still hear the clinking of your serums as you rummage through your cosmetics bag. He silently sets aside his phone to get up from his extremely comfortable spot in the bed to pad his way over to the bathroom.

The sight that greets him has Hotch’s stomach plummeting all over again.

You’re sporting that same headband with the pink bow again, however this time, you’re wearing one of his old academy shirts that had mysteriously gone missing from his dresser several weeks ago. You’re freshly showered and you’re holding onto some kind of strangely shaped metallic instrument that you’re scraping over your cheekbones and then down your neck. The way it drags over your skin has Hotch cringing sympathetically.

You immediately spot him, meeting his gaze through the mirror, and the way your eyes immediately light up has a small smile forming on Hotch’s face before he can help it. “Hey you.”

“Hey.” Hotch leans against the doorway, content to watch the clearly practiced movements of you rubbing your skin with this strange contraption. “It’s been over five minutes.”

You pout. “Sorry, I’ve been holding this off all week and I need to do it tonight.”

Hotch was sure that “need” was a strong word, but he doesn’t question it. He stopped questioning your thorough skincare routine months ago.

And then you turn to him, something mischievous tugging at your glossy lips. “Wanna try it?”

Apprehension thuds in his chest, but he takes a step forward into the glow of the bathroom anyway. “And what is it exactly?”

Detecting your hesitation a mile away, you give him a warm smile as you hold it up to him. “It’s called a gua sha. It’s supposed to help with blood flow and getting rid of toxins and all that.”

Hotch may not be a beauty or skincare expert, but he has doubts that this piece of metal can actually do all of those things. To be fair, he’s had quite a few doubts about most of the items you use and not so subtly make him try.

The delight painted clear on your face though has Hotch tucking those thoughts away. He’s sure he has no right to question one’s own method on how to relax.

“Okay.”

You immediately muffle a squeal and turn to grab some other serum you left out on the sink, a light gold swimming around in the bottle.

“I’ll only do half of your face, I promise.” You squeeze some of the mysterious liquid on your hands and reach up to pat the left side of his face.

It’s thicker than your usual products, most likely some kind of oil that smells like roses, but the heat from your hand and your close proximity has Hotch feeling inexplicably warm all over.

“Okay, now you just use this side to run up your cheekbone like this.” You demonstrate for him and he adamantly makes note of the light pressure you’re using. “And then you run it down your face and down your neck.”

When he attempts to copy your movements with the warm metal, he doesn’t notice any difference in how his skin feels or the blood flow in his face, but you’re studying him so closely that Hotch is tempted to say he does.

It’s a strange sensation, but honestly it doesn’t feel any different than if he used his own fingers to rub up against his cheekbone or jawline.

When he puts the piece of metal back in your open palm, you’re nearly teeming with excitement. “So, what do you think?”

He pauses. “I don’t think it’s for me, sweetheart.”

You pout but he can tell that you’re not offended. “Boo. Fine, I’ll meet you in bed, handsome.”

Hotch is about to turn back to go to bed before he remembers the thick oil covering half of his face, evenly dispersed but still uncomfortable and will surely stain his pillowcase. He attempts to discreetly wipe at it with his hand as best as he can before quickly rubbing it off on your arm and escaping.

The screech you let out echoes in his bathroom as you try to swat at him and narrowly miss, and the way he feels heat tinge at the tip of his ears is better than any metallic contraption’s claim to improve blood flow.

On his days off, Hotch much prefers spending as much time as he can at home, either with Jack, you, or, more recently, both. Even if Hotch technically sees you every day in the bullpen, you at work is much different than the you at home.

Or at least, he likes to think there’s a difference as you drag him to the grocery store during what was possibly the quietest afternoon he’s had in several months.

I just have to pick up a couple of things, you had said as you buckle your seatbelt in the passenger side. We’ll be back home in a jiffy.

Never mind the fact that the word home coming from your lips has Hotch’s mind reeling. You’ve been seeing each other for several months now and he’s almost sure that you haven’t stepped foot in your own apartment for at least a month. You’ve taken up half of his dresser, most of his closet space, and the entirety of the counter space in the bathroom with your multi-colored serums and skincare tools that don’t work no matter what you claim.

He follows you around the store, dutifully pushing the grocery cart, as you mentally go through your checklist on all the toiletries you’re almost out of. Which is why he finds himself in the cosmetics aisle when you exclaim “Oh, I forgot about tomatoes for taco Tuesday!” and scamper off before he could say there were plenty of tomatoes from last time in the fridge because Jack has suddenly decided he doesn’t like them anymore.

He's content to wait, maybe check his emails on his phone, when he spots the familiar label of his face wash out of the corner of his eye.

It’s a brand that Haley had recommended for him when they were in college and Hotch knew absolutely nothing about skincare then, so he just continued buying it. He’s gone through countless bottles over the years, having used it nearly every day, yet Hotch finds himself frowning as he stares at the bright orange bottle.

The large bold letters advertise the cleanser being able to effectively combat oiliness, but Hotch distinctly remembers you offhandedly mentioning how lucky he was to have dry skin and not a combination like you.

Honestly, he had no idea, but it would make sense with how you were constantly slathering him in lotions and creams any chance you got.

He browses through the available cleansers, keeping an eye out for those that treat dry skin, when you sidle up next to him with a bag of tomatoes that were undoubtedly not going to get eaten. He can hear the hesitation in your voice when you ask “What are you doing?”

“Looking for something different.”

“Oh yeah? I knew I was wearing you down, Hotchner. Soon, you’re going to be begging me to take you to Sephora.” You’re joking but Hotch can detect the underlying seriousness in your voice.

He continues as if he didn’t hear you. “I’ve been using the wrong face wash for my skin so I’m looking for a different one. I probably haven’t been doing my skin any favors all these years.”

A pause. And then, incredulously, you say “Who taught you that?”

Finding one that was a good size and affordable enough to try, Hotch grabs it and throws it into the cart. When he meets your eyes, you’re staring up at him with a disbelieving smile.

“You did.” And it’s true—Hotch would’ve never thought about the long-term benefits of having a humidifier in the bedroom or the importance of sunscreen everyday if it weren’t for you. Taking care of your appearance was clearly important to you, which meant it was now important to him.

You stare at him, lips parted as if you’re at a loss for words. Your skin is glowing even under the harsh fluorescent grocery store lighting. “You’re such a sweet talker, you know that?”

You toss the tomatoes in the cart, making him wince, and loop your arm through his to tug him along the aisle. You smell sugary sweet with maybe a hint of his cologne from where you had slept in one of his old shirts last night. Hotch remembers how he had felt lightheaded, fondness flooding his chest, when he woke to you laying on his chest this morning. He tugs you closer into his side.

“Does this mean that you’ll try that new light therapy mask that I bought?”

“One step at a time, honey.”

taglist <3 @kiwriteswords @solardrop @knitmeatardis @mggslover @maeintree @pastelpinkflowerlife @storiesofsvu @actualdeemon

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader fluff #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #mine #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

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xshadowdelta · 7 months ago

Text

FORMER MANAGER

PART 5: PURITY.

Mashiro x Male Reader (4K length)

You observed your face in the reflection of the bathroom mirror, your messy hair, the marks of the sheets on your cheeks and some visible dark circles bordering your eyes, it definitely had not been your best night. You had barely slept, tossing and turning in bed all night while your head was spinning around the scene with Jang Wonyoung.

The image of her crying wouldn't disappear from your mind no matter how hard you tried, but how did this happen in the first place? The last memory you had of her was when you said goodbye years ago before returning home, back then she also cried, but this time it was totally different, her look of disappointment on you disturbed you even more than her tears.

You catched some water from the sink, throwing it over your face, trying to clear yourself up and wake up a little, because you had to continue with your life and your work, you would find a free time lapse to be able to fix this problem.

You showered, fixed your hair, and hid the traces of a terrible night on your face as well as you could before getting dressed and leaving your apartment heading to the company.

You arrived at the building where as soon as you entered, your boss was waiting for you, folder in hand, and while you both walked he explained the itinerary of the day and the schedule for the upcoming weeks. Kep1er’s members had returned from their last shows abroad, there had been a few changes at the management level, and a new comeback was already planned, so the work was going to be hard and intense.

Both of you stopped in front of one of the practice rooms, a light touch of your coworker knuckles on the door and you entered inside, a group of girls who were stretching stared at you.

“Good morning girls.” Your partner began to speak. “Before starting preparations for this new album I want to introduce you to your new full-time manager, starting on today he will take care of all of you and about everything you need.” He exclaimed, indicating for you to introduce yourself to them with a gesture of his hand.

You bowed them instantly. “Nice to meet you! I will be at your service from now on, I hope we get along well.” You said a little nervous, a feeling that disappeared when you saw the smiles and applause they offered you. “Nice to meet you, please treat us well!” They all said in unison bowing to you aswell.

"Good." Your boss interrupted. “The dance teacher will come right away to show you and start practicing the new choreographies, I hope the best from all of you. “Fighting!” He said with his fist, before handing you the information folder and leaving the room.

You watched him leave and when you looked back you jumped when you realized how the Kep1er girls had surrounded you, occupying any personal space you could have, their eyes analyzing you carefully.

"Hello!" One of them greeted with a huge smile on her face. “I'm the leader Yujin, nice to meet you, it's incredible, it's the first time I have such a young manager.” You smiled shyly, uncomfortable with the circle of people that had formed around you.

“Wow, can I call you oppa?” A girl with pink hair and rounded cheeks asked next to her, if you were not mistaken it was Kim Chaehyun, you nodded affirmatively at her question causing her to laugh.

You noticed that penetrating eyes were focused on you to the point that you realized that gaze was passing through you, you made eye contact with it, increasing your nervousness.

“Is something wrong, Xiaoting?” You asked softly making the mentioned girl blink a few times. “Do you know my name already?” She questioned surprised. “Our new manager has studied a lot!” Dayeon shouted, starting to laugh and causing the rest of the members to laugh.

“Look at his dark eyes, he sure hasn't been able to sleep all night!” Hikaru joked, releasing one of her particular laughs that resonated throughout the room, increasing the volume and joy of the rest of the members.

These girls were really loud and restless, they were going to give you a lot of headaches, yet a smile was drawn on your lips and for a while you forgot about the rest of your problems.

The dance teacher appeared and the morning passed with the girls memorizing and practicing the new choreographies, so you took the opportunity to go to your office to work on other aspects such as contacting the wardrobe team, making venue reservations where the filming would be done, hire the recording equipment.

The days went by and with the amount of work you had it was impossible to even think about Wonyoung. Your relationship with the members of Kep1er was improving and due to the characteristics of these girls, in just a week it seemed like you had been together since their debut, and that was something that relieved you and made everything much more enjoyable.

This day in question the girls would spend it in the recording studio, testing their vocals and recording the songs for the new album, so really your presence there was not very significant so your task for the day was to clean and organize everything in the house.

If you already hated doing housework, doing it in a home full of girls made you hate it excessively. A multitude of clothes scattered throughout the rooms, boxes and cardboard in every corner.

You were infinitely grateful to Bahiyyih for trying to keep the house in order, saving you some work, but the whirlwind that was Chaehyun Dayeon and Hikaru was simply unstoppable.

You finished off the apartment Yujin Bahiyyih Chaehyun and Xiaoting shared and headed upstairs to start cleaning the next one. You hadn't been there for long but there was a room that you had not yet accessed, it was a two-bed bedroom that did not belong to anyone in the group but that had serious signs of having been habited before, it was perfectly arranged and there were still clothes hanging in the closet.

You inspected said clothes, leaving them on one of the beds, you opened the drawers looking to know what, and this really had you confused.

“W-W-Who are you? What are you doing with my clothes?” A sudden voice surprised and scared you, almost making you fall on the bed when you turned to look at the door frame of the room, finding a small girl with brown hair and a rather cute appearance carrying a cardboard box in her hands, looking at you in a scared way.

“That's what I should ask, how did you get in here? The door has a password, and what's with your clothes?” You were trying to appear as calm as possible but you were really uneasy with that presence.

“Don't tell me…A SASAENG!” You both shouted at the same time, pointing your fingers at each other. "WHAT? ME?" Now your fingers were pointing towards yourselves.

“It's over I'm going to call the police.” The girl said, dropping the box and taking her mobile phone out of her pants pocket.

“That's exactly what I'm going to do, look at this.” You said, taking out the company ID, surprising the girl.

"Huh?"

“I'm sorry again, I had no idea you were the new manager.” The girl said with her head down, looking at the ground, feeling guilty for the previous misunderstanding.

“The mistake was mine for not having recognized you before, Mashiro-shi.” Now you knew who this room belonged to.

Apparently, and after left the grou, both Mashiro and Yeseo had been terribly busy with their new group and their own activities that they had been coming and going to the house making small moves of their things. However some things of their property were still there.

“If you need help with your…”

“Oh no no, please, I'm sure you're very busy, I don't want to bother you.” She commented, making notable gestures with her hands. You smiled at how adorable that was.

“The rest of the members say that you and Yeseo will continue to be part of Kep1er forever…” You commented, bending down to pick up the cardboard box from the floor and put it on the bed, opening it. “So now I'm also your manager, okay Mashiro-chan?” You smiled warmly at her causing her cheeks to turn a deep pink color.

“O-O-Okay” She agreed shyly, approaching you and helping you pack more clothes from her closet.

Together you cleared out the closet and packed all the clothes, and you organized the rest of the room and cleaned it. You glanced at Mashiro from time to time, even with that strange first impression you had with her, you really thought she was a super adorable girl. Her small stature, her beautiful face and the dimples that were marked on her cheeks reaffirmed it.

“What do you think of the members?” She asked casually while doing her task, your gaze drifted towards the ceiling, sketching a slight smile after a few seconds of thought.

“Noisy.” You responded simply causing her to giggle, covering her mouth with one of her hands.

“I understand you perfectly.” She supported you.

“But they are really amazing.” You continued. “They spend the day laughing and making a fuss but they don't lower the effort they put into their practices one bit, sometimes I envy them. I would also like to enjoy my work like they do.” Out of the corner of my eye you could notice a small smile melancholy on her face, so you decided not to say anything else and continue with the cleaning.

You walked over to one of the nightstands next to one of the beds to open the drawers, see what they kept and see if there was anything else that needed to be packed.

“Don't open that!” Mashiro screamed hysterically, throwing herself on the bed trying to stop you but you had already opened the drawer. You looked at her confused, even more so when she threw her hands over her face trying to hide herself, while her ears turned red.

You looked down, looking at the vibrator that was inside the drawer, blushing too and quickly moving away, falling on your ass to the floor.

"I'm sorry." You whispered embarrassed, unable to look up, noticing how your face was burning.

“Noooooo…how embarrassing.” Mashiro sobbed, rolling on the bed. You grabbed a lock of your hair, analyzing the situation, looking for the right words for a moment like this.

“There is nothing to be ashamed of Mashiro, it is something totally normal for someone your age and…Mashiro?” You were absorbed as you looked up to see directly at the girl who was still sobbing, covering her face with one hand, while the other was now rubbing her crotch over her pants. So those sounds weren't sobs, they were moans.

You saw how she relaxed her body and lie down on the bed. The hand that covered her face no longer did so, she was now looking at you clearly, intently, a look very different from what you had seen from her before.

“It has been such a hard, stressful and emotional weeks. Leaving one group to enter another, new members, comeback, and performances. Even now all the responsibility of being a leader falls on my shoulders.”

“Mashiro…” Your words were interrupted by a new moan.

“And I forgot my stress reliever during the move, I tried using my fingers but they didn't have the same effect…” You turned your gaze to the vibrator and took it in your hands, Mashiro's eyes did not take their eyes off the device. You turned it on, listening to the vibrations it produced, making Mashiro groan in despair.

“You said before that you were also my manager…” The Japanese girl began to say. “So, I need your help, manager oppa, please…” You swallowed after hearing that request of deep need in her tone of voice.

You stood up and approached the bed, sitting on the edge near Mashiro, who lowered the zipper of her sweatshirt a little, revealing a bit of the shirt she was wearing underneath and then, moving against the bed, she managed to lower her pants until her underwear was visible.

“You are very wet Mashiro-chan.” You commented looking at the huge stain that had appeared on her panties. “You really are so needy…”

She didn't respond but she brought her hand back to where the stain was now, caressing herself again with circular movements, closing her eyes enjoying her own touch.

When she stopped she opened her eyes to look deeply at you, eyes that were screaming for your help. You sighed and got even closer to her body, vibrator in hand, gently bringing it to her desired area, coming into contact causing Mashiro's back to arch due to excitement.

“Yes, please…” She continued asking needily.

You pushed aside the fabric of her panties, visualizing her wonderful pink pussy completely flooded that was crying out for pleasure.

The sex toy now caressed Mashiro's folds mercilessly, forcing her to moan loudly, her eyes closed again enjoying the waves of pleasure that ran through her body.

That scene was fucking erotic for you, so much so that a huge bulge peeked out from between your pants. With your free hand you managed to free that bulge from outside your clothes, however it was somewhat difficult to satisfy both of you at the same time.

A naughty idea crossed your mind. If you were busy offering pleasure to Mashiro she was free to give it to you, so you took her hand closest to you and placed it around your cock.

Upon feeling that she opened her eyes again, offering you a small smile when she knew your intentions, grabbing your penis tightly and beginning to move her hand up and down constantly.

“Oppa hentai…” She whispered, biting her lip, watching how she was masturbating you.

“It's your fault in the first place…” You responded, emitting the occasional small moan caused by her touch, and lowering the zipper of her sweatshirt completely with your free hand, allowing yourself to caressing her stomach and her hips.

You threw the vibrator to the side of the bed and began to caress her pussy with your own hand, separating her folds with your fingers and inserting a couple of them inside causing a squeal of surprise from her.

“Shit oppa…it feels so good…”

“A girl as adorable as you talking so dirty.” You said increasing the pace of your caresses on her pussy, feeling how your hand became wet with Mashiro's fluids.

“You love when I talk dirty, right oppa?” She asked continuing the caresses on your penis. “It hasn't stopped growing…”

You smiled, leaning over her body, placing a few kisses across her bare stomach. She released her grip on your cock to allow you to position yourself more comfortably on top of her, slipping your hands under her shirt touching everything within reach.

Mashiro slowly melted under your body, moaning louder and louder as your fingers caressed her tits. She was breathing heavily and her hair fell over her forehead giving it an even sexier touch, her entire face was flushed and hot.

Due to the constant movement of your bodies on each other there was a moment where your cock rubbed against Mashiro's pussy, tensing her body and placing her hands against your chest, pushing you away slightly.

You raised an eyebrow in confusion, realizing how hot this whole scene had become and how you had gotten carried away with it.

“I'm sorry if I…

“I have only used that vibrator… I have never had anything inside me beyond my fingers, I am completely a virgin.” She admitted, looking away embarrassed.

"It’s okay." You whispered softly, offering her a smile, caressing her right cheek with your hand. She took your hand and let herself be caressed by you.

“It's really strange and we just met...but I feel very comfortable with you, oppa. Although I don't think I'm ready to cross that line yet, I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to apologize for anything.” You leaned your head over her, kissing her lips, being instantly reciprocated by her, lightly biting her lower lip, drawing a moan from her and allowing your tongue to explore every corner of Mashiro's mouth.

“Oppa.” A thread of saliva separated your mouth from Mashiro's. “I need an orgasm.”

You smiled, recovering the vibrator lost in some corner of the bed, activating it again, this time with more power making the girl's body tremble.

“OH FUCK!” Squeals and moans came non-stop from the idol's mouth as you rubbed the toy again and again over her weak area.

You alternated the vibrator with the caresses that you provided with your hands. You lay down on the bed next to Mashiro without stopping masturbating her, she quickly took your cock again with one of her hands and now you were both pleasuring each other.

You inserted two of your fingers inside her completely tight pussy, stretching it slightly feeling her walls contract against your fingers. The girl's hips moved unconsciously as the moans did not stop and her grip on your cock tightened.

You then stroked her clit with your thumb, which was like touching the self-destruct button on Mashiro's body. You touched and pressed her clit as much as you could until her back arched again and a huge scream escaped her mouth.

Her body hit the mattress again, her chest rising and falling excitedly. It took her a few seconds to catch her breath and recover from that orgasm, she turned to look at you and you quickly wiped away some tears that were now flowing from her eyes with your hand.

“God…you're better than any toy, oppa.” Despite continuing to pant, her smile was wide, she laughed at herself for the situation she found herself in.

You laughed, also flattered but somewhat embarrassed by her comment. You tried to get up to get out of bed but Mashiro immediately stopped you and forced you to lie down, surprising you with her sudden reaction.

“Wait, you're not done yet.” She said and then you looked down at your penis.

“Please let me help you, oppa.” Mashiro demanded in distress, because she had been able to free herself thanks to your touch and you, on the other hand, were still hard.

How were you going to refuse that, you thought, lowering the clothes that covered your lower area to your ankles, leaving your member in full view. Mashiro was stunned to see it like that.

“It's even bigger…” She whispered, wrapping her hand around it again, beginning to cover it completely and therefore starting the massage.

You let out a moan and bit your lip. Under normal conditions it would take you long enough to cum to get a long treatment, but the hard work of these last few days had taken its toll on you too. You hadn't downloaded for days, even weeks, and none of the Iz*One girls had crossed your path during this time, so you and your friend were especially sensitive at the moment.

That Mashiro was inexperienced was obvious, not only because she had confessed to being a virgin, it was obvious that it was the first time she had masturbated someone.

She did it delicately but nervously, her hand trembled on your cock, so you decided to help her, placing one of your hands on hers, guiding her on top of you. This helped her to calm down and gain confidence, copying the rhythm that you were setting.

You moved your hand away once you saw her more prepared and in response to that she wrapped her other hand around your penis as well.

Now both of the girl's hands were working on your erect dick, covering the entire length between them, with slow and delicate movements that made you shudder.

Your moans began to get uncontrolled due to her touch, giving her more and more encouragement and causing the pace of masturbation to increase.

Her two hands worked now at high speed on your penis, with enveloping movements, noticing how it swelled and began to tremble.

“Shit...Mashiro-chan I'm about to...” You couldn't finish the warning when the first shot was propelled upwards, surprising the girl by seeing that white liquid escape from the tip of your penis.

After the first, the rest of the shots followed, progressively decreasing the intensity with each one until finally there was not a single drop left inside you.

Mashiro's hands raised the skin of your penis one last time, observing the brilliance that the tip of your penis now offered. Finally she let you go and you were able to sit up on the bed, seeing the mess that had formed on your abdomen, now covered in your own sperm.

You diverted your gaze towards Mashiro whose eyes did not stop observing that increasingly sticky area.

You moved your hand towards it, taking some of the sperm with your fingers and looked back at the girl, who now looked back at you.

"Do you want to try it?" You asked, smiling sideways, sneaking into her thoughts. She did not utter a word due to shyness and embarrassment but nodded affirmatively.

You brought your fingers closer to her face and she closed her eyes, opening her mouth, allowing you to insert them inside, licking and tasting your seed. Her tongue moved between your fingers, wetting them but absorbing all the liquid they were impregnated with.

She opened her mouth again for you to remove your fingers and you looked at each other.

"It is...you are...you taste delicious..." She admitted self-consciously but happy and satisfied. “C-C-Can I take some more?”

A few seconds later you had Mashiro leaning over you licking all the remains of sperm that were on your abdomen and thighs. That was making you hard again but you knew you had a line that you must not to cross.

The idol's tongue cleaned you completely, savoring every last bit of liquid she could get, repeating to herself how delicious it tasted. Once she was over with you, you left the room for a moment to go to the bathroom, cleaning yourself and put your clothes back on properly, when you returned Mashiro was also dressed.

You inserted the vibrator into the cardboard box, camouflaged between several layers of clothing, and took it into your arms, despite the girl's insistence that she could carry the box.

You went down together to the street, parked there was one of Mashiro's new group's cars waiting to pick her up.

"Thanks for everything, manager oppa." Mashiro smiled sweetly at you.

"Keep this between us, okay?" She nodded briskly heading to the car, turning around before opening the door.

"I'll think about you the next time." Those words caught you off guard, making you blush.

You watched as the car disappeared into the distance of the street, blending into the traffic. You sighed and walked back up the stairs to the apartment, there was still a lot to clean.

Just when you were about to grab the broom again the phone in your pocket started ringing, you picked up after reading the name of the caller and brought it to your ear.

“Finally, I only had to call you 7 times to get a callback.” You heard a sleepy yawn from the other side.

“I've been non-stop for months, many performances, shootings, ceremony awards, and exhausting trips, you know. I deserved a good restful sleep…of 14 hours.”

“Of course, we must keep the star Ahn Yujin in good condition.” Your laughter dissipated as you took a more serious tone. “I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I know. See you in like 1 hour? I will send you the location.”

“Sure, see you.”

You hung up the call and heaved a long sigh, rushing to get all the work done. You had a date in an hour.

#kpop smut #male reader #smut #kep1er smut #mashiro smut #mashiro x reader #kep1er x reader

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thepitlanepress · 4 months ago

Text

CHAOS [3] –

↳ lando norris + singer!piastri!reader

⌗ :: masterlist

⌗ :: a/n: look whats here!! pt threeeee !! sorry for the long wait also this is legit just crack istg 😭😭

⌗ :: pt1 ;; a bet not so bad ,, pt2 ;; sports car ,,

–

ynofficial

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, gracieabrams, charles_leclerc, and 4, 986, 498 others

ynofficial the final single off the album !! king of my heart welcome to the worldddd

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user1 oh. my. god.

user2 LIVES WERE CHANGED

user3 i'll never be okay again

user6 that mv is actually insane

user4 lanyn is my roman empire

user5 how did oscar feel about this

ynofficial shhh

user7 lando featuring in this is actually not okay why is he why why why omg im malfunctioning

landonorris hehehehe

oscarpiastri nonononono its a PROFESSIONAL relationship PURELY FAKE FOR THE MUSIC VIDEO

landonorris of course

user8 them being a couple in this has healed parts of my i didnt know existed

–

ynofficial

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 5, 642, 823 others

ynofficial this is who is the star of the king of my heart mv btw

tagged: landonorris

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landonorris ok then i see how it is...

ynofficial dont you dare lando

landonorris too lateeee

user1 your honour never take them away from me i promise i can be normal

user2 oh look at my boy

ynofficial MY boy excuse me

user3 give me 10000 posts like this

landonorris on it

–

landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, ynofficial, and 7, 842, 963 others

landonorris payback

tagged: ynofficial

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ynofficial BITCH WHERED U GET THESE??? THEY'RE SO OLD WTF???

landonorris payback i told you

user1 i aspire to have this level of chaoticness

user2 CAN YOU EXPLAIN THE SECOND PIC YN????

user4 NO CAN SHE EXPLAIN THE THIRD????

user3 lando doesn't mess around clearly

user4 no cause im cackling

user5 lanyn is actually perfect

oscarpiastri saving these photos for later...

ynofficial NO

oscarpiastri too late

–

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, gracieabrams, charles_leclerc, and 3, 754, 689 others

oscarpiastri look at these two idiots.

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user1 oscar join the lanyn shippers pls

user2 PLEASE OSCAR

user3 give me details

landonorris things happened

user4 i need some more gossip about lanyn actually

user5 can we have lanyn's king of my heart era pls!!!

–

f1gossippofficial has posted

f1unofficial has posted

deuxmoi has posted

𐔌 . ⋮ 🏷️ tags .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

@arqbella, @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt, @stilesks, @prudyhoo, @cherry-piee,

@aeplandos, @kodeelynn, @ellelabelle, @widow-cevans, @freyathehuntress

@landossainz, @screamingwines,

[ if you would like to be added or removed let me know! ]

2025 © thepitlanepress | please do not steal, use, translate or repost any of my works

– comments and reblogs appreciated

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burningcheese-merchant · 4 months ago

Note

I'm honestly just wondering if the ancients know that the beasts are yandere and what they think of that 😀

Ohhhh, they know. There's no way not to lol, the Beasts won't allow it. Ignorance is bliss and neither group deserves such mercy

Shadow Milk not only attacks his Ancient frequently, he's quite open and honest about what drives him to do so. Pure Vanilla has to endure Shadow Milk's endless jabs (he toes the line between flirting and insulting constantly, tripping over it in both directions and even melding the two together oftentimes. In those quieter moments, Vanilla can't help but wonder if Shadow Milk is behaving this way on purpose or if there might be even the smallest touch of legitimate social ineptitude guiding Shadow's words. Because... Well. Even someone as willing to forgo tact as Shadow Milk knows that switching back and forth between overly sweet and sappy adoration and bitter, frustrated derision at the drop of a hat doesn't exactly do much to endear people to you, now does it), hands and a mouth trying to super glue themselves to his person, feverish rants about dinners and weddings and dancing up the spire's steps while bathed in pale moonlight. And above all else, the constant reminders that Pure Vanilla is his. Sometimes, with the added insistance that Vanilla repeat it back to him. (Oftentimes, with the threat of retaliation against an innocent looming over Vanilla's head if he refuses.)

Burning Spice is just as bad. Worse in some ways, arguably. He's the most relentless of the five; he really, truly just will. Not. Stop. There's hardly even any downtime between his... appearances. He is a predator driven to the brink of madness by starvation, and Golden Cheese is that exquisite, one-of-a-kind prey that he so covets in every way possible. He tells her to her face that he loves her, that he wants her, that he needs her, that he HUNGERS for her. And he tells her exactly how much he wishes to devour her, whether she wants to hear it or not. Every single time, with zero hesitation and even less remorse. He will have his little bird in every way he wishes - beaten and broken at his feet, rosy-cheeked and content in his arms, needy and greedy in his bed - and he NEVER let her forget it, nor will he ever let anyone or anything stand in their way

Eternal Sugar, as lacking in initiative as she usually is, is... less overbearing than the previous two (not that that's a high bar to clear). But that certainly does not mean she keeps her mouth shut. She's more at home in the dream world than the waking one, and it's there that she showers Hollyberry with her affection. Visions spun from the sweetest cotton candy, where she's free from all of her burdens and they can be happy together. No shield, no crown, no kingdom, no family. Nothing. No one. Just Eternal Sugar. Just them. Just their love. Because Hollyberry doesn't need anything else. She shouldn't. And if she, or anyone else who deems themselves more important than their destined union, dares to claim otherwise, then Sugar is not above correcting such insolence. Holly is strong. She can handle a nightmare, can't she? Or two? A mess of them every night, every week, every time she dares to blink? She's strong... and she's smart. She'll understand her place if Sugar explains well enough...

It's almost funny, in a grim way. Outside of... constant, on-foot stalking, Silent Salt demonstrates a level of self-control outstanding enough that you almost wouldn't believe he's as possessive and demented as he is, if you didn't know him like White Lily does. Everywhere she goes, he follows behind. He has all but crowned himself her second shadow. Whether he's 50 feet away or 5 centimeters, he is always there regardless. And he atones for his... er, failure with words with acts of service. Flowers, freshly picked and carefully arranged. A hand on her shoulder, her waist, weaving through her hair; cold and sharp, no thanks to the metal gauntlet casing it, but still making an earnest attempt at comfort and affection. A steel kiss, from his helm to the back of her hand. A sword to the hearts and throats of any and all who are foolish enough to approach her... That's where he betrays his true nature. And he always does eventually. No matter how hard he tries to keep himself together, for White Lily's sake...

Dark Cacao probably has it the easiest, in this one and only sense. Mystic Flour is a special kind of yandere; she actively tries to AVOID the object of her sick affection, rather than seek him out like the others seek theirs. So he's hardly aware of what it is that afflicts her to such a horrible degree. He doesn't even discover it through her, he discovers it through the other Ancients and Beasts - and when he does, he struggles to even believe it. It's foolish to the point of nigh-incomprehensible absurdity. And yet... There's something there. Some strange feeling he can never quite shake. He's being watched by... familiar eyes. Though no move is made towards him, over time, he comes to realize that this lack of action is, ironically, the most profound action Mystic Flour could have taken. Because he can sense that her apathy is forced. Straining and struggling beneath the growing weight of... whatever it is that's bearing down on her head and heart and soul. Poised to break into a million pieces, sooner rather than later. He can sense that she blames him; maybe that's fair, maybe it isn't. It doesn't matter much. So long as this delicate balance is never meddled with, then they can both keep pretending all is the same as it ever was...

I rambled again lol. Crazy people go brr. To answer how the Ancients feel about it

Vanilla is horrified and confused, but a touch guilty. Desperate to understand, both to put an end to Shadow's madness more definitively and out of that misplaced sense of compassion and self-righteousness that governs every action he takes

Golden is utterly repulsed, and would prefer to never see Spice's devil face again

Hollyberry is uncomfortable, but tries to strike some sort of balance between placating Sugar (to keep her from lashing out) and trying to talk her down from her delusions. She's able to understand "you cannot reason someone out of an idea they weren't reasoned into", she just refuses to

White Lily feels extremely conflicted. She does not love Silent Salt, but can't bring herself to reject him properly. In some part, she understands and even sympathizes with his... instability, because she's not particularly stable herself. In another, she feels as though she DESERVES to have to endure all of this. Bad people deserve each other, don't they? But she feels tremendous guilt whenever he lashes out at innocent people in a jealousy-fueled rage, and does try to stop him when he does... and then she goes back to meekly allowing him to do as he pleases. She is unable to deliver and enforce lasting consequences for Salt's behavior, thus accidentally making him worse

Dark Cacao would prefer to forget Mystic Flour exists at all, and normally succeeds in doing so... for the most part. It helps that they don't go after each other. Hopefully neither decides to change their mind...

#cookie run kingdom #burningcheese #goldenspice #pureshadow #shadowvanilla #mysticcacao #silentlily #hollysugar #yandere beasts #I'm sorry this is so long lol. haven't written anything for this au in a while

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criibibi · 8 months ago

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Synopsis: After losing so much, Spider-woman learns to just keep moving. Only for her to end up somewhere far from home. Her first agenda is figuring out where she is, and how to get back. The only problem is that she ended up somewhere fictional (to her). Playing hero with Batman was not in her bingo cards this year. Hopefully she will be able to make it back home before she catches unwanted attention.

Masterlist: Prev; Next;

Chapter 5 - No Time to Waste

It’s been a week and a half since the last power surge incident and so far everything was quiet. Too quiet for Batman’s liking. It definitely increased his paranoia which in turn causes him to be extra moody. The culprit? Whoever was behind the power surge in the Narrows. They became an anomaly to Gotham. Unwanted, an eyesore in the eyes of Batman.

And the issue is, there hasn’t been any news at all. No sightings, no suspects, nothing. Bruce felt challenged in a way. Something is in Gotham, living in his city and he feels like he’s still so far from discovering who or what it is. For the world's greatest detective is having a hard time solving this case. How frustrating.

With no news of another quantum breach, big or small, nothing. It’s frustrating. What’s even more of a headache about this unsolved case, is another thing that has come to his attention- thanks Jim.

Bruce started hearing more reports of a new ‘vigilante’. But there are no pictures, no camera footage, no evidence, just testimonies, occasional sightings and witnesses. Nothing concrete, nothing solid, just no proof. So frustrating.

And there is a pattern.

What he does know is that they are always quick and efficient, never staying too long, leaving once or before the police arrive, and it’s always low level crooks like muggers or thiefs. Respectful and polite (from those they saved) and they mostly keep to the shadows of the night.

Whoever this new problem is, is trying to stay hidden and Batman doesn’t like that at all. Not. One. Bit.

Despite the Narrows being Duke’s territory, he is just one person who patrols in the daytime, so some of his sons and daughter help patrol at night. But it seems this newcomer has incredible luck and scurries off everytime they are even close to their location.

But this doesn’t mean Batman will just let it go, oh no. Of course not silly, he’s going to find this new vigilante and see what they are about. He’s going to evaluate them, judge them, and all it takes is one mess up. Just one and he will make sure they are locked up in Arkham.

A bit extreme, possibly. But he will take no chances, not when it comes to the safety of his city. Gotham is his to protect and defend, he’s keeping many eyes out for this intruder. Watch your back.

“Sorry to interrupt your brooding hour B, but I have something I think you want to know. Also you have a message from Commissioner Gordon.” A new voice spoke through his comms.

“On my way.” He replied.

“No, I think it’s best you go with-”

“I am fully capable of handling it myself just fine. I don’t require father’s assistance.” a third voice snapped. “I’m here with Kent, we’re fine Drake.” And the line was turned off.

“Explain.” Batman demanded.

“So you see…”

After the failed attempt at contacting Miguel, you spent a couple of all nighters in advancing your beacon. This time, it would require even more energy but now it won’t cause a potential blackout. But it will notify the bats of your location like last time.

You know you have to be extra fucking careful this time. You might have gotten lucky those days ago in not getting caught, but you know your luck is shit anyways and Batman is one paranoid mother fucker. Him and his wards.

You have to be very cautious in where you go and how you will do this. This new connector is a bit more sturdier than the lightweight one you made before, but this time it also won’t require you to be stuck in one place. Actually, your signal will ping in more than one location. It will bounce off the cell towers and throw a fake location.

This will certainly tip the scales to your favor in avoidance of detection. Now, you won’t have to rely on your (shit) spider luck!

All you have to do is to connect it to a phone or computer, and connect that to any service in the area and manually set it off- which you can easily hack. There is only one tiny itty bitty problem. Guessed it yet? No? Well it’s simple, the only problem is- YOU DON’T HAVE A PHONE.

You could theoretically use the library computer but with civilians around you is a big major no. You’re also pretty sure the library closes at like 8 or something.

No worries. You have a solution for this baby problem. Is it build one yourself? Pfft- fuck no. You don’t have time to build a phone and even less for a computer, you still have to tweak your god damn watch for fuck sake. So, you’re just going to buy one.

And with what money- I hear you ask. Simple. You’re going to make some. Time to become Spider-woman again.

Only until you have enough for a decent phone- you said. It’ll be easy- you said. Until you were proven wrong.

You spent two days hunting and defeating crooks, webbing the worst ones up, while the not so bad but are making shitty choices were let go (with the promise of hunting them down should they go back to doing bad stuff). Some advice here and there, pickpocketing criminal’s money, you know, the usual shabang.

Can’t forget you’re avoiding all cameras so as to not give yourself away. Though you almost got caught by the police once, haha. You never stick around long enough to get spotted by the bats or the cops.

Until one night, dressed as a normal civilian, you were coming back from a shelter, turning a corner and you were immediately surrounded by a group of thugs wanting to rob you. You literally have nothing, so the only thing they would be robbing is your backpack with extra clothes and your suit. And maybe like two granola bars.

You tried to charm your way out of this situation because first of all, youre fucking tired, two, you don’t have time for baby shit, and three, you’re about to start tweaking. Of course the five men didn’t take your sarcastic remarks lightly and decided that their knives would do the talking.

So you beat them up. All five of them. 60 seconds was all it took. So to recompense wasting a minute of your time, you loot their cash discreetly.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) a well dressed man popped out of nowhere, getting close to you and you warned him you would break his wrist if he touched you- he still came but didn’t touch you. Holding out a black card he presented it to your face.

“You fight well, kid. If you want to make money fast,real money, call me and go here.”

“Um, I’m not a k-”

“You’ll make hundreds.” He cut you off. Rude. ”And if you impress the boss like you did me, you can make more.”

Spider luck?

Oh well that got your attention. Eyes narrowed. “Fast money, how?”

“Did no one ever teach ya about ‘stranger danger’? It’s a fight club, if you will. A tournament if you’re interested.”

Spider luck.

After pondering it for a quick second, here you are, getting a card with a free invite to a ring, probably filled with big, crazy, and most likely wanted criminals, and you get paid to beat them up? Sign me the fuck up. “I’m very interested.” you nod.

The man gave a crooked smile. “Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow, kid.”

“I’m not-” The man walked away and inside a white limo car. Fuck you.

So you went the next day. Making sure you wore your normal clothes, just sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and your face mask, you called the guy.

Meeting him was uninteresting, conversations were nothing exciting, just asking you your fighting style, can you take on a big guy, and whatnot.

Upon entering the place (behind a well known bar) you were led to a ring, two fighters going at it. You watched how one was clearly more experienced than the other, while the other guy was battered and bleeding but still fighting. Blood spraying everywhere with every hit until he hit the ground cold.

It certainly is a sight.

It was that very day that you had your very first fight.

Stepping into the ring with no prep, no bandages, no helmet, nothing, this was a raw fight through and through, you were immediately booed and laughed at. Tough crowd.

Of course you were not going against a stereotypical big muscular guy that looks like he could bench press a tank. No, in fact you were against a young military deserter as your first opponent. Scars and all. Across his neck laid an identification tag (also known as dog tag). Christopher Conner.

The man in front of you sneered, laughing at you. “No way they sent me a kid. I will break all your bones. Don’t start crying too soon.” he cooed.

He taunted you and the crowd loved it. You, on the other hand, were pretty bored and unimpressed.

“I’m not a kid…” you huffed behind your face mask.

What was able to be seen on your face must have told him that because he didn’t like being ignored.

So he swung, a clear hit to be a knock out. You swerve.

This time he kicked, you parried.

He did not like that. Soon a game ensued. Hit attacking and you either blocking or dodging. You didn’t even need your spider sense, you got this in the bag, honestly this was quite sad. The crowd went from booing you to insulting Christopher.

“What the fuck man?!”

“Hit the kid!”

“My money’s riding on you dickface!”

“Don’t you dare lose motherfucker, or I’ll shoot you!”

It seems their insults were getting to the man. You on the other hand kinda started to feel bad.

“Stand still you fucker!” Christopher growled, throwing punches.

You scoffed, “My aunt throws faster punches than you Chris.” You can almost taste the bloodlust seeping from his pores. “Hey man, it's been three minutes, surely you can end this, right?”

Chris’s jaw clenched in anger. He was about to explode. A voice called out your name.

“Nada! Stop wasting time and finish it kid. Or you won’t get paid.” What? What a scam! You’re trying to entertain yourself too y’know, guess this will be a way to relieve stress.

Facing the military man you didn’t give him a second to process when you blew him a kiss and then a fist made contact with his chin, effectively knocking him out the second his back hit the ring walls. “I’m not a kid.”

The crowd was silent before chaos broke. Half the crowd booed and threatened the fallen man, while the other half started cheering.

With how unsatisfied most people were, you had to fight three more times. Each time, you won, with no scratches on you (you did pretend to get hit at times for realism). Each victory secures you cheers and hype.

By the end of your last fight, it was dark out and you were walked off by the same man that brought you here. “Good job kid. I know you were the right call.”

“I’m not-” A thick envelope was thrown. Catching it, you opened it up to find money, lots of money. “Woah.”

The man in the suit chuckled. “Like it? You can make more the more you win.”

Still entrance by the stack of green you nodded. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Same time.” The man walked off and you stared at the money.

“Booyah baby!”

You bought a phone the next morning.

And so it’s been five days since then. You weren’t in a desperate need for money anymore, so you cut your fights down from five to two a day. You still needed time to continue fixing your beacon. Spider-woman sightings have also significantly decreased the more you noticed the increase in security.

You were not taking any chances.

Walking towards the somewhat empty bar, you greeted the bouncer and headed inside to an ‘employees only’ door to meet the guy in the suit. He did tell you his name, but you call him ‘Suit’ in your head regardless.

“Hey there Nada,” He hears a sigh from behind the mask. “Listen, kid, you’re one of my best fighters, but I need you to lay low for a while. Here.”

Catching a burner phone you tilt your head for an explanation, pocketing it. “Cops?”

“Worse.” he sighs, slicking his hair back. “Bats.”

Fucking spider luck.

Like a bucket of ice and cold water was dumped on you, blood turning cold. You froze in terror. You should have guessed that a hidden fighting ring would not be kept hidden for long. The criminals that you fought and were downright nasty, you made sure they were caught outside and far away from this location.

And it was random from a list you composed. Enough to make sure you weren’t a suspect. But fuck now you have to erase your presense here. You’re a nobody, Nada, nothing. Guess it really is time to lay lower than low, like a ghost. “I won’t come back then.” Voice serious and cold.

He laughed, pulling out an envelope from his suit's inner pocket. “S’that so?” Handing it out for you to take, his eyes burn into yours. “Then I’ll just have ta hunt you down, kid.”

Taking the envelope (it felt thicker and heavier than usual) and placing it in your pocket you chuckled, cold, fake, calculating. “Try. I’m good at hiding.” Walking away, hands in pocket, feeling both the envelope and the burner phone, turning your body to avoid bumping into a familiar guy speed walking in. “I’m not a kid…” you mumbled to yourself.

You didn’t bother glancing at the man you dubbed ‘Suit’, real name Jacob Sullivan Jones. It seems it’s time for JSJ to have a run in with the Gotham City Police Department.

It is truly fortunate that Jacob doesn’t know where you're staying. Although he might not know about the warehouse inside the junkyard, he does know you are not a resident with no permanent home. He had stalked you for a bit after the first meeting (the bouncer was so easy to spot really), believing you’re homeless, alone, and a nobody (someone who nobody would miss or look for). You’re using that (somewhat of a mis)information to your advantage.

Leaving the desolate bar, thoughts consumed by the written list of criminals you drafted and plan to anonymously give it to the GCPD. How you got the other criminals caught was simple, you always used a payphone and gave anonymous tips. That won’t work here. At least not fully. Knowing the corruption, maybe you should hand it to the one of the cops you know isn’t corrupt.

Now, do you hack the police and email it? Print it/fax it and send it? Or hand it directly but as spider-woman? Well for starters, the second option is garbage because if the right person doesn’t see it first, it will just get covered up. Hacking into the GCPD and emailing it directly doesn’t sound like a bad idea, the only issue is, if they decided to forward that information to the bats, you’re fucked because then you know they’ll dig in and somehow find out about you.

It seems like going in as Spider-woman is the best bet, but then again, the bats are real close, too close for comfort. Should you take the risk? But if you don’t turn these criminals in, it will stay in your consciousness of letting innocents down. Guess you have to suck it up and do it then.

“This sucks” you mumbled, deep in thought.

Suddenly you felt your body freeze. Feeling your spider sense go haywire, you looked up and hard swerved to the side, avoiding bumping into a stranger.

It seemed that your sudden change in direction caught the stranger’s attention and the person next to him, both heads snapped towards you.

Hands out of pocket awkwardly waving in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry!” Taking a look at the one you almost bumped into, he is tall, with black hair and vibrant blue eyes.

Taking note of your embarrassment the stranger chuckles, looking into your eyes, “No worries! Nice reflexes though!”

The stranger’s partner scowled in your direction and you could feel his eyes burning you alive. “Watch where you walk, you buffoon.” Venom.

“Don’t be rude, Dame.”

“Don’t call me that. We don’t have time for this tomfoolery.”

Alrighty then, guess it’s time to fuck off. “Yes, thank you- again, so sorry.” You don’t even spare the other guy a glance, quickly scurrying off. Your spider sense hasn’t shut off and you don’t like where this is going. “Good bye.”

“Hey wait a minute!”

“What are you doing Kent? Our priority is there.”

Not turning back, you quickened to a brisk walk away from this nauseating area. This whole goddamn experience is so nauseating. You just wanted to go home. Was that soooooo much to ask? Regardless, you did not want to know what those strangers wanted, and you were taught ‘stranger danger’ and it certainly applied here.

After a certain distance later, your senses dulled into a small buzz as you turned a corner and entered the public library. Taking your usual empty seat, you let out a deep sigh. This was what you were used to since coming into this world. Since being yoinked from another dimension and plopped in this universe, your senses never really shut off. It was like everything in this world was a danger, and it only spiked when reacting to blood lust, danger of a certain radius, and people who are incredibly strong.

Recalling that one stranger, who looked too innocent enough for it to be bloodlust, just that their presence caught you so off guard. But your senses screamed at you, and it terrified you to an extent. This is why you can never really relax being here, even when you’re alone in the warehouse, you just feel so out of place, and in danger constantly. It was beginning to eat you up honestly.

You miss your innocent youthful days. God you sound old. But you really do miss having a home to go back to. A home where once you step inside, it’s warm, and two people would always greet you like a warm embrace.

Now it’s cold and desolate, barely anything inside, empty and lonely.

But now, you can’t even go there anymore. Even if it was painful to live in the same home that had more members, then reduced to just you, it was still home.

You can’t even go home.

Remembering the words Jacob Sullivan Jones spoke to you earlier, you fish out the envelope. Taking note of the weight, it was decided to open it and find more than usual.

Picking up a small zip-lock bag, your eyes widened. It was an ID, an ID and a passport. Just what the fuck was Jacob going to do with giving you this? Why did he make this for you? What were his plans? No, you can’t think about that. This is a blessing for sure, and you’ll take it- but, you have to put Jacob in prison. Now.

This is a gift and you know that with criminals, all gifts are never for free. This is a ‘you owe me’ gift. “Fuck, this sucks.” You just want a moment of peace.

Think, you have to think. Now you have an identification, but, you don’t know if you’re in the system, since once again, incase you forgot, you don’t fucking exist here. Whatever Jacob was thinking, you definitely don’t want a part of it. You’re going to put a stop to this now.

Though, recalling the two strangers earlier, you don’t bother with the rude one of the two, more focused on the one with blue eyes. Something about him just stuck out to you. He looked vaguely familiar.

Okay, let’s take this from the top. You felt a strong sense of precaution, thus causing your spider sense to alert you. Your sense only went away when you were a considerable distance away from those two, so you know it’s about the strangers. Bases covered, perfect. What’s next?

You only really focused on the one who you almost touched, so let’s continue from there. He is tall, a welldefine body, black hair, and vibrant blue eyes. That’s all you remember seeing now for what you heard. His friend/partner/acquaintance/fellow party member said ‘Kent’, this could be his name or surname but the name ‘Kent’ makes your throat clogged. You only know of another Kent and it’s a superhero.

It couldn’t be…right?

Turning the computer on, you started typing away, fingers trembling, heart thumping loudly, head spinning, and body sweating. Please, please, please, be wrong. You prayed.

The window search lands on a somewhat recent news. Superman and Superboy save hundreds during bridge collapse! By Lois Lane Kent.

In the photo, on the front page was a scene, both Superman and Superboy. The older one was holding a piece of a bridge while the other younger one was using his heat vision. This was Superman’s son. And you came into contact with him.

You were royally fucking screwed.

Fuck- fuck! No, no nono!

All the anxiety you tried to lock away came like a tsunami. You were reminded of how small you are in this world. How easy it is to find trouble even without looking. You wanted no part in this world but it seems the gods wanted to fuck you over and over again.

And, as much as you wanted to curse out the Spot for yeeting you far faaaaaaar from your universe, you only blame yourself for latching onto him and getting lost on the way to his next destination.

God this sucks! You wanted to curl up and cry, but you can’t. You’re a big girl and so, you’ll deal with this fuckery later. After all, your best trait was putting your issues to the side and focusing on the bigger picture. This- meeting Superman’s son can wait. After all, you haven’t run into any bats besides Signal- yes you researched him when you had free time (you only knew of him but not really who he was), so for now, your spider luck has been blessing you thus far.

You need to focus on the bigger picture, getting Jacob and the other criminals caught.

Getting to work, you begin to type away your list that you memorized, the location of the bar, the owner of the bar was still a mystery but the one who runs it is Jacob, schedule of the bouncer shifts, and the names and alias of those who you encountered as well as the situation of misguided teens. You type it all, making sure to keep your real and fake identity out, you did put in your alias Nada, as a picked up street kid. Enough for it to be a ‘misguided’ teen situation but not enough to catch someone’s attention unless they were looking for it.

Now that you know you ran into Clark Kent’s son (a deduction), you know you can’t risk encountering him as spider-woman. Knowing that Superman can (somehow) memorize and identify someone based on their heart beat or whatever, so fuck no are you going to parade as spider-woman any time soon.

You swear to god that you will do everything you can to avoid meeting them in both their civilian personas and alter egos.

Calming yourself, you get ready to hack the GCPD, and leave a message.

‘They know. Scatter.’

It hits you. The epiphany of why Jacob had an ID and passport made for you. They were moving locations. Abandoning fort, and taking anyone who they wanted. Basically a trafficking ring for those who weren’t onboard, and a new opportunity for those who they saw potential in.

Shit, you should have stopped this when Jacob found you, but you didn’t know anything then. Now it could be too late. But Jacob did say to lay low, so they’re mostly biding their time. Probably erasing, hiding, and misplacing real and fake evidence.

They need to get exposed now, ‘strike while the iron is hot’ as the saying goes.

It seems like it’s time to meet the commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department, James “Jim” Gordon, as Spider-woman. How fun…

Way to contratic your fucking promise so soon. Well, at least it’s a civilian and not a hero/vigilante. “This fucking sucks.”

Damian scoffed when Tim wanted to force his father the Batman into his lead. It’s not that he doesn’t want his father, it’s just this is an undercover sort of situation. He got a lead when he went to interrogate a pathetic military criminal. He can handle this mission on his own.

“No, I think it’s best you go with-”

“I am fully capable of handling it myself just fine. I don’t require father’s assistance.” Damian heard Jon chuckle, most likely overhearing this conversation with his super hearing. What a nuisance. “I’m here with Kent, we’re fine Drake.” And the line was turned off.

“Well that was something. So, what’s the plan that you didn’t want Lizzie to be involved in?”

“Focus, Jon.” Damian explained their stakeout first, before going to don their costumes. Deep in their conversation, Damian caught sight of one of the suspects speed walking past them. He brings this to Jon’s attention. “It's him, the mercenary Christopher Conner.”

“Okay, so this bar is the place. Let me check real quick.” Using his vision, Jon’s eyebrow furrows. “Next door is styled like a wrestling ring, only two exits. From here and from an office. This is the place.”

“Then we’ll change and apprehend the criminal. Watch and hear what he is saying.” Jon followed Damian’s lead when someone jumped out of his way like he was burning them, causing Damian to also turn his head.

“I’m so sorry!” Despite the mask covering their mouth, their voice of this buffoon sounded androgynous, their clothes didn’t help to differentiate a gender either. But what he can see were this stranger’s eyes, and he can’t look away.

It seems neither can Jon as he chuckles and waves off the encounter. “No worries! Nice reflexes though!” Jon makes it very obvious he’s staring hard.

Just what is it about this total insignificant stranger that caught Damian’s undivided attention? From what he can see, they look normal (can’t really tell with that face mask though), but there is just something that has him unable to take his eyes off of them.

Jon has the same issue, and Damian narrowed his eyes in suspicion and scowls. “Watch where you walk, you buffoon.”

Jon, without breaking eye contact, scolds Damina. “Don’t be rude, Dame.”

Snapping out of this trance, he snaps back,” Don’t call me that.” That’s right, they are on a mission, no distractions allowed. “We don’t have time for this tomfoolery.”

Jon looks at Damian, as he too, regains his focus, eyes staring into each other as if communicating, he nods. They can come back to this after they finish their assignment.

“Yes, thank you- again, so sorry. Good bye.” The stranger quickly scurried off.

Caught off guard Jon impulsively extended his arm out to grab their shoulder. “Hey wait a minute!”

Damian acted faster, grabbing Jon’s arm. “What are you doing Kent? Our priority is there.” Pointing towards the bar with his head. This isn’t good, they’re getting sidetracked.

Jon didn’t turn to look at Damian, no he was still staring at the stranger. “I just wanted to ask…” He trailed off as he strained his ears, focusing on their heartbeat, their breathing patterns, anything he could to commit to memory. “For their name.”

Damian, too, side glanced at the retreating figure, dissecting the way they moved, their tensed shoulders, everything until they were out of sight.

Jon wanted to ask their name. Was that weird? Their situation didn’t require him to ask their name. How would he even go about it, ‘Sorry for almost bumping into you, hey can I ask for your name?’ Yea, no.

“Damian, I-” Jon began before getting caught off.

“I know. We’ll deal with that later,” His eyes narrow, glancing at the bar. “Focus.” But he too was entranced. But he was much better at pushing that to the side, but he knows he won’t be able to hold it off for now. The best he can do is rein in Jon’s attention to the assignment.

Moving to a cafe nearby with a good view of the bar’s entrance, they ordered some drinks. This wasn’t Damians idea but he’ll let Jon have his way for cooperating.

Jon nodded, getting back into focus, using his super hearing to overhear the conversation inside the bar.

His stomach tingles at the thought of asking the stranger for their name.

Hand discreetly on his year Damian spoke, “Drake, look into the time of now and send it over to me.”

“Hey- wait-” Tim was caught off guard, “What’s this about? I thought you didn’t ‘require assistance’ for this.” He teased.

“I don’t.” He shut the comms off. Now, back to work. “What’s going on Jon?”

“This is our guy. He’s getting assigned to deliver a package. This is serious. He’s upset.”

Damian clicked his tongue. “Tt. Follow.”

Jon tunes into the conversation again.

“The police aren’t the issue. It’s the costumes that have been spotted close. We already lost a couple of our men to the cops.”

“And you don’t think that’s suspicious? We have a traitor!”

“You don’t think I don’t know that, Chris? Ever since Sebastian was caught by the fucking commissioner, the others have been getting caught like flies here in Gotham. He’s spilling, so I need to silence him.”

“The usual?”

“No, not you this time. We’re leaving so I need you to focus on one more thing.”

“Is it about them, the one you want to recruit?”

“Yes, I want them-” a phone rang interrupting the conversation. “It’s the boss. Dismissed, I’ll send ya the rest later.”

“Understood sir. I’ll deliver the packages tonight.” The mercenary walked off, no longer as upset as earlier.

Jon, processing the information, becomes visibly upset. “They’re recruiting, and based on the conversation, it's the runaway and homeless teens that have been reported by the shelters. This is bigger than just Gotham. I think they’re leaving, moving somewhere else.”

“Let’s follow.” Damian’s attention was caught at the mercenary leaving the bar. “There.”

“The guy he was talking to said he would ‘send the rest later’, I think it will be on his phone.” Jon informed.

Damian absorbed the information. “We’ll follow and catch him red handed.”

“What about ‘the package’?” Jon questioned.

“What about them? I’ll forward the intel to the rest. We focus on this guy. The evidence on his phone is all we need.”

“Dame, I can’t with good conscience leave those vulnerable kids on their own.” Stressed Jon.

“And we’re not. The others will take care of it.” Damian replied. “When we apprehend the mercenary, acquire the intel, we go after this guy while the others detain their accomplices and rescue the runaways. They will all fall tonight, Jon, so focus.”

Jonathan Kent wanted to bite back, but he knows Damian ran this plan at least three times before bringing him along. Damian is just that strategic. And he places his full trust in him, god does this leave him unsatisfied. He knows those kids are trapped somewhere and if taking this mercenary and the manager from the bar out gets them safe faster, then he will do as he is told.

Something just feels out of place, this has been too easy so far. “Alright, he’s heading north.”

Damian nods, slipping away to change into his suit.

As if connected, Damian as well feels like things have been progressing smoothly. And when it comes to crimes committed in Gotham, when things are going good, then something isn’t right.

Ever since the first the GCPD have been arresting some low and decent levels of this new crime syndicate, news of some human trafficking organizations have been slowly getting uncovered as if by overnight. It started around five days ago, low level members were caught, and just two days ago, a higher member was arrested.

Ever since his father the Batman (he tagged along) interrogated him, he spilled like a waterfall. Since they have been cracking down on the case, they know this criminal organization is trying to get on the levels of Black Mask or The Penguin.

The only issue is, this was only exclusive to Gotham, now based on what Jon relay to him, this is just a small base, there are others. He refuses to let this go on any further. Not to his city, or his people. Yet, there is this itch in the back of his head. These captures were by far too easy, and these people aren’t sloppy. No, they had been operating for some time, and yet they were getting caught like moths to a flame due to anonymous tips being called in. Someone out there is deliberately getting these scumbags caught.

And Batman believes it could possibly have a connection to the other pressing issue that’s consuming his thought. There has to be a connection to the quantum disturbance from a little over a week ago. It’s just too coincidental for it not to be.

Something is happening in Gotham, and he will get to the bottom of this.

You know, people say to plan for everything, thus making Batman a force to be reckoned with since he is the master of having contingency plans and backup plans for those backup plans. And yet, here you are, with a plan and life just wants to fuck you over and expects you to just deal with it.

No.

After coming up with spider-woman handing the commissioner Jim Gordon a list of criminals and misguided teens, you just needed to go and change. But here you are, running into a situation if you will.

You see, after running away from Superman's son, and a printed list folded neatly in your pocket as you head ‘home’, you started to feel the icky sensation of being watched. Years of experience and knowing how not to tip off that you know, you head away from your place of operations and head up north.

Though despite not giving signs of how utterly fucking tense and anxious you are, you rationalize that it can not be any of the birds because you haven’t done anything suspicious. That, and the fact that your spider sense isn’t screaming at you of danger so for now, that’s calming you down.

On the other hand, you still have no clue who is following you. It was like, thirty minutes since running into the super, and no call from the burner phone. This whole ‘being followed’ is a fucking nuisance, putting a wrench in your plans.

The only good thing is that, since you are technically surrounded by civilians walking about, they can’t really do anything to you, unless they want to cause panic amongst the innocents. Though, that wouldn’t stop someone from shooting you if they wanted you dead.

Still, regardless if you are wanted dead (highly unlikely) or alive (for whatever reason) you don’t want to lead innocent civilians into this, so away you go! Informing Jim Gordon can wait (not it can’t), you’ll lose your pursuer and then catch them!

Turning a corner, into alleyways, zig zagging, you hear their footsteps pick up. Persistent.

While running away, you form theories. We crossed out the batsonas, you haven’t done or got caught with anything to be on their radar afterall, it can’t be a random crook because for one, you look poor too, and second, they’re chasing you for a reason. Another idea was maybe it has something to do with Jacob. But that doesn’t make much sense since you just got a burner phone.

Something just isn’t adding up.

Your spider sense spiked as you turned down a corner. Despite this, you kept going straight, ready to take on whoever was going to appear in front of you.

With a very good distance between you and your pursuer you took this chance to discard your mask and sweatshirt (thank god for having a tank top) ontop of a parked motorcycle as you turned another corner, there stood a man near the end of the alleyway, tall and (once again) wellbuilt, with black hair just standing there, phone in hand.

Quickly you jogged towards him (he glanced your way) and grabbed his arm, startling him. “Sorry, please play along!” you whispered and pulled him.

The stranger only had one second to figure out what was happening. In that split second though, he heard a plea for help. The next thing he knew, he had his free hand on the wall above your head while the other one was moved to your waist. Back towards the wall and having his big frame engulf yours, you let his arm go and wrapped them around his neck, pulling him towards your face.

It's only then that you take in his appearance, handsome from what you can see, and your heart dropped. “I’m being followed,” you muttered, noticing the stranger’s eyes roam your face before settling on your eyes. “I don’t know who they are.”

The man in front of you nodded, kept in place as footsteps hastily turned the corner, running past the both of you. Your body tensed up watching the hooded figure stop at the end of the alleyway. Taking the chance to observe the guy, he pulled out a phone while looking both ways before exiting from your view.

While you were distracted the stranger in front of you pulled back, making your release your hold. He was quiet. “Once again, I’m so sorry! Thank you!” You nervously backed away, in the opposite direction your pursuer went.

He grunted, watching you walk back away. He opened his mouth to speak but the phone in his hand began to ring. He glanced down at the caller before looking back up.

You were already gone, picking up your sweatshirt and mask, donning them on and running away. Your heart was pounding so loud, it rang in your ear. That was Jason mother fucking Todd. You ran into the Red Hood. What the fuck was he doing in the Narrows?!

Recalling the words Jacob spoke earlier, it echoed through your head. ‘Bats.’ That’s right. The fucking bats are intown, and this was too close for comfort. This sucks balls!

“Focus, focus. Officer Gordon, here I come.” To the junkyard you go.

Jason watched the very pretty woman leave him with his thoughts. Getting pulled into caging someone against a back alley wall was not in his cards today, but with Gotham, one always has to expect the unexpected.

Speaking of the unexpected, he let himself momentarily get distracted recalling the bold stranger from earlier. Something about this woman, rendered him quiet. But at the same time, he took note of just how anxious she was. Tensed body, eyebrows furrowed, worried expression, scared eyes, and over all the way she held onto him while losing her pursuer. He wondered just what kind of trouble found her. It seems crime really doesn’t stop during the daylight.

He committed her face to memory, and will touch upon her situation once he finished his current assignment.

“You still there?” the voice spoke from his phone.

“Yea, I’m still here. I’m in the Narrows, following the lead.”

“Good, while Damian follows the mercenary, you got the manager. I’m seeing some suspicious moments. Turn on your commlink, Bruce is already moody as he is.”

“When isn’t he like that.” Jason rolled his eyes as he walked back to his bike that he parked further in the alley. Before taking off, he glanced in the direction the stranger went. Her actions and the sound of her voice repeated inside his mind like an echo, burning itself in his memory.

Prev; Next;

I realized everything I wanted for this chapter did not happen. So now it's split into two parts- oops. Side note, this will not be a yandere series, though I do think they get 'possessive' sure, not yandere though. I finally know how I am going to end the Act, the issue is the in between that I struggle with.

Yay, you met Jon and Jason. Next up are Cass, Steph, Dick, and Tim the only ones left.

Web Bound Secret Corner!

Spider-Woman had an eidetic memory.

Spider-Woman does not know about the trafficked kids.

Spider-Woman did not notice Damian.

If Spider-Woman had to choose between saving a life and going home, she'd save the life.

Spider-Woman's is bad at grieving and worse with failure.

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rna-world · 8 months ago

Text

DEBUNKING COMMON RAIN WORLD MISINTERPRETATIONS

The target audience for this was for people who don't know too much about the game as well, so I'm going to explain things that a normal player might already know.

Rain World is known for how it simply throws you into the world with almost no tutorial, and is often praised for it.

But this lack of explanation if you do not go out of your way to find it has also lead to a lot of misinterpretations from those who did not read all the game’s available information, or misunderstood what they were being told. I used to watch some RW lore videos that would explain and summarize these things, and in the past I believed them.

I’ve since stopped doing that after having some time to actually process what I’ve been reading, and I’m here to say...

YOU ARE ALL WRONG ABOUT RAIN WORLD.

Ok, hyperbole. Not everyone believes these, and art can always be interpreted in different ways by different people, and I won’t stop you from having these beliefs. But also, there’s plenty of ingame content which completely disproves most of these unsubstantiated points from those who do not fully research the game before making videos about it.

Looking at you Tale Foundry…

The purpose of this is to pick apart some of the sadly far too common points I’ve heard many times before from Youtube videos, to Tumblr posts, to people I’ve spoken to on Discord.

Starting with my least favorite…

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“The 5 karma were seen as sinful”

Obvious westernization of a game based off fucking Buddhism aside, there’s no ingame text directly supporting this claim. There isn’t any that says otherwise, but we have good reason to believe this isn’t the case.

The 5 natural urges, as they’re sometimes called, were NATURAL. They were what bound you to the cycle. They never worsened your life or made you a terrible person should you keep following them, but an aspect of life on the same level as suffering or ecstasy.

Hey, I’ll break down the 5 karma and their meanings to show you that they're not just "sins"

I believe the natural urges have 2 different meanings: an animalistic one, and a more “human” one.

KARMA 1 This obviously represents violence, as you see one guy stabbing the other. I believe it also represents competition and intense emotions, For example: Artificer experiencing intense grief and lashing out in violence as a result. It was not the violence that started it, but her emotions. (Yes, its Downpour. But it’s a good point.)

KARMA 2

They’re having sex. They’re fucking. They’re- ok you get it. Karma 2 represents reproduction. But, I also believe it’s desire. Joyful bodily experiences, and such. The 2 figures seen here are in a much more playful pose than if they were simply doing this only to reproduce. No, they’re having fun.

KAMRA 3 Connection. Bonding with others. Yet also trade and personal belongings. Attachment to things that are not yourself.

KARMA 4 It’s mentioned ingame that this represents gluttony It’s overindulgence, you know. Similarly to karma 2, it can also be searching for fulfillment. I'm not particularly good at telling what the meaning of this could be.

KARMA 5 Self preservation. Self preservation can come in many forms, from an animal running away from a predator or somebody getting defensive after being accused of something or being threatened, this one is rather vague about its meaning.

I do this to show that the 5 urges have very NEUTRAL meanings. It being positive or negative is entire dependant on context. They’re not sinful, get out of here with that Catholic shit!

The 5 karmas have both positive, negative, and neutral contexts which they can fit into.

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“The ancients hated being alive”

The ancients simply hated the cycle itself and its unknowable properties, as well as being much more aware of things like karma and the urges. Rather, they valued being effortless to disconnect themselves from this cycle.

“This was an eternal dilemma to them - they were burdened by great ambition, yet deeply convinced that striving in itself was an unforgivable vice. They tried very hard to be effortless.” – Bright Green Pearl (DS)

Some practices did of course include things like starving yourself, but as mentioned by Moon, these methods proved to be mostly obsolete. Void Fluid fundamentally changed their culture from what we see. Rather, we do see the ancients enjoying life and valuing it in their own way, which is INCREDIBLY important to some of the games themes, but I’ll get into that later.

"[...]'In this vessel is the living memories of Seventeen Axes, Fifteen Spoked Wheel, of the House of Braids[…] Seventeen Axes, Fifteen Spoked Wheel nobly decided to ascend in the beginning of 1514.008, after graciously donating all (ALL!) earthly possessions to the local Iterator project (Unparalleled Innocence), and left these memories to be cherished by the carnal plane.The assorted memories and qualia include:Watching dust suspended in a ray of sun (Old age). Eating a very tasty meal (Young child). Defeating an opponent in a debate contest, and being applauded by fellow team members (Late childhood/Early adulthood).’...and the list goes on. I'm sorry, little creature, I won't read all of this - the list is six hundred and twenty items long.” – Deep Magenta (SH)

There’s quite a lot to pick apart here, I had to cut down some parts short, but even the cut parts have important details. Just not important enough for me to bring up here.

The Memory Crypts we see ingame are… well where memories are kept. The qualia (personalized experiences) is stored within these mutated fleshy neural organisms referred to as “cabinet beasts”. These of course, contain the “living memories” or qualia of those who have ascended. There are people smarter than me who have already covered these ideas of course, so I won't go TOO indepth.

The ancients greatly valued titles and achievements just as us. They still lived normal lives. As well as this, they valued personal experiences and memories of the carnal realm so much they built an entire citadel to store memories.

As we can see as well, Seventeen Axes has quite a lot of enjoyable memories from throughout their life. Eating nice food and winning a debate contest and getting validation from their peers? That sounds rather… complacent with the 3rd and 4th natural urges, doesn’t it?

I do not believe this screams “I hate being alive!” as much as people have made it out to be, and is honestly ruins part of the game’s messages of compassion and personalized experiences, especially in the game’s ending where Survivor dreams of home.

“You have no name. I once had! I was embalmed, adorned, readied for the journey. So proud. There was jubilation! My name was sung, loud and clear. Did they know? That I didn't quite leave, didn't quite stay? Should I be ashamed? That I linger here, where my memories are kept? Should I be ashamed that I now envy your flesh prison?” - Four Needles under Plentiful Leaves

This is leaning into personal theory territory, but...

I personally believe that the ancients were somewhat terrified of the unpredictability of the cycle and the fact that life would always have more suffering in it.

RW’s religion is heavily based off Buddhism. This is well known of course. The Cycle is a variation of Samsara. Now, I’m not Buddhist, and I’ve tried to do my research about some of these topics. Feel free to correct me, I’m simply going off what I know. (Also I'd love to hear what you have to say regarding your thoughts on the game!)

In Buddhism, each new life you could be taken into the body of an animal, or even end up being tortured in hell for a very, very, VERY long time if you made the wrong decisions, which made escaping it as soon as you could seem like a rather reasonable thing to do.

The ancients never fully grasped the scope of the cycle, and the prospects of having your soul wake up in the body of some miserable worm with no memory of your past or any ideas of your future might’ve seemed bleak.

Suffering is inevitable. But that doesn’t mean they hated being alive, like I said before.

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“Rain World is post-apocalyptic.”

It really isn’t. There was never any apocalypse. The ancients simply left on their own accord, leaving behind their mark on the world that will slowly be buried once again in the ever so present cycle.

“The bones of forgotten civilizations, heaped like so many sticks.” - Two Sprouts, Twelve Brackets

The world is thriving, even. The purposed organisms left behind have evolved and taken over and become it’s own ecosystem.

The iterators are dying though. Dying very slowly, but soon they’ll all decay and everything will move on.

It’s all just another manifestation of the cycle.

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“The creatures in Rain World cannot die”

This is definitely something I hear from people who haven’t played much of the game and only hear about it from outside sources and watch the gameplay.

Yes, it is easy to believe this. As slugcat, when you die, you wake back up again. This is entirely a gameplay thing and not actually related to the lore. Saying this might seem like I'm avoiding the question at hand here, but the rules that apply to you do not seem to apply to other creatures.

Every creature in the game has a 4 integer ID (it can go higher, but not in a standard playthrough).

This makes every creature you see an individual of sorts with its own randomized values or appearance.

As well as this, creatures spawn from specific marked dens. When you kill a creature that spawns from a certain den, the next cycle, that creature’s ID will never appear again. Instead, the den spawn is replaced by a creature of the same species with a different ID, or a new species entirely.

Through gameplay, you see that the respawn rules that apply to you do not apply to other creatures. I’ve heard many points about how these dead creatures are transported to another alternate universe where they are alive, but I really do not want to delve into that theory. You do that yourself.

Excuse my unprofessional language, but this is kind of stupid. Billions and billions of little timeline splits accounting for every single insect and microbe that dies seems far too complex of a solution. Occam's Razor and all that.

With this gameplay element you see, I also want to give LORE explanations as to why this is incredibly stupid.

1) If death had no impact, the 5 natural urges would not matter

If no creatures died, there would be no point in eating (karma 4), competing with other species (karma 1), or any form of self preservation (karma 5). Reproduction (karma 2) has no role and there would be absolutely no reason to do anything any longer. All natural processes would be useless.

2) Light Blue Pearl

The information received from the cycle is most likely from the Light Blue Pearl, found in Outskirts.

“[...]The repeating mantra is important because it symbolizes the cyclical nature of life and death, and the termination verse is a symbol for ascension above and beyond it. I don't know how familiar you are with the nature of life and death, but I imagine like all living creatures you have some intuitive knowledge? Then you know that death isn't the end - birth and death are connected to each other like a ring, or some say a spiral. Some say a spiral that in turn forms a ring. Some ramble in agonizing longevity. But the basis is agreed upon: like sleep like death, you wake up again - whether you want to or not. This is true for all living things, but some actually break the cycle. That doesn't apply to you or me though, you are too entangled in your animal struggles, and for me not breaking that cycle is an integral part of the design. Our mantras keep repeating.”

“Then you know that death isn't the end - birth and death are connected to each other like a ring, or some say a spiral. Some say a spiral that in turn forms a ring.“

This line is very misunderstood. Moon specifically mentions birth and death. She mentions death. She never brings up the notion that nothing truly dies either.

As well as this, Moon says that “some say”, implying that even the ancients weren’t sure what the cycle was either. This is more important to my point regarding how the unfathomable nature of the cycle was why the Ancients were so averse to it from above, though.

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“Sliver of Straw found the solution.”/"There is/isn't solution"

No she didn’t.

Ok fine I’ll explain.

If you’ve played Rain World you know that the purpose of the iterators is to find the solution to the “Great Problem”, the problem of how to ascend ALL living creatures.

You’ll also know Sliver sent out the Triple Affirmative…

“[...]affirmative that a solution has been found, affirmative that the solution is portable, and affirmative that a technical implementation is possible and generally applicable. She's also one of few that has ever been confirmed as exhaustively incapacitated, or dead. We do not die easily.[…]” - Pale Yellow (SL)

After sending out this affirmative, the iterators became conflicted. They never could figure out if she really ascended and had found the solution, or if it was some sort of catastrophic error.

The answer to the Great Problem is clearly intended to be as obscured as possible. There cannot be an answer one way or the other. The themes of it and the endless tolling of the iterators would not be as impactful if we knew there was or wasn’t a solution.

“[...]Either way, after that these different factions developed, as well as a huge forensic effort to recreate and simulate Sliver of Straw's last moments. Some of the simulations were wrapped in a simulation wrapped in a simulation, in case something dangerous might happen. Nothing much has come from it.[…]“ - Pale Yellow (SL)

Here’s my favorite way of explaining what I mean…

Imagine Schrodinger's Cat, the famous thought experiment. There’s a 50/50 chance that when you open the box, you either find the Solution, or find out there is No Solution.

Except you cannot open the box. And the box is entirely theoretical and nobody’s seen it. It seems impossible, but maybe one day you’ll find that box. That’s what the Great Problem is.

Sliver apparently having found the solution would have completely broken everything. Five Pebbles wouldn’t have ended up hurting himself and Moon had Sliver finding the solution been known with certainty. He was taking a shot in the dark.

------

“Ascension is akin to suicide.”

I strongly believe this point harms the role that ascension and the void sea play in Rain World’s narrative. Ascension is meant to be a final destination, a goal you build up to and prepare for when you’ve lived every bit of life you possible could, and can now move on.

Bringing up the Memory Crypt pearl from earlier, Seventeen Axes lived an incredibly fulfilling life from what we see, and ascended happily.

As well as this, Buddhism strongly encourages those who wish to liberate themselves to discover their own path, which is also subtly shown through the gameplay, as there are many many routes you can take to Five Pebbles, Looks To The Moon, and The Depths.

I do also think this is why Five Pebbles failed. He tried to brute force his way to ascension.

Suicide implies that ascension is only meant to be a fruitless escape and that it’s wrong to ascend. I… do not want to go into why suicide is bad. It’s a strong topic and I’m just here to talk about video games. But ascension is a neutral thing that you can choose to do or not do and to wait until you’re ready.

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Conclusion...

I really only have the time to cover these 6 misconceptions, and I believe it should be enough. There have been many others I’ve seen, such as the ancients being malicious or that there weren’t any civilizations before them, but there’s not as much to say about them, and they aren’t as common.

Rain World is a very confusing game. I’m not upset at people who think these things to be true, and I do not believe they’re stupid or don’t have any media literacy. I just wish that the people who did actually cover this game did some more looking into it, and actually discussing it with Rain World fans.

Also I should say, that during this entire discussion I have avoided talking about Downpour- RW’s DLC- as it’s more of a official fanmade project. And so much of what it says may not be entirely in line with Vanilla. Because my life isn’t easy and of course there has to be an incredibly divisive and confusing thing like this that I need to avoid bringing up so that way the conversation isn’t muddled.

Thanks if you managed to make it through all this by the way

#itref #rw #rain world #rain world lore #rain world ancients #textadactyl

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