#and i agreed with a lot of the stuff in it

[aperrywilliams]

Glowing (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

------------------ 

Author Masterlist

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

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: The team has been out on a case for about ten days now. You're not with them this time due to your 21st-week pregnancy and doctor's order not to go to the field, and you miss your husband, Spencer, like crazy. When they come back, Spencer can't stop looking at you and your recent baby bump. To say it makes him feral is an understatement, and he wants to show you how marvelous you are despite your insecurities about your changing body.

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: SMUT/18+/MDNI. Spencer and Reader are horny AF. There is a lot of teasing, heated kissing, heavy making out, oral sex, PIV sex, and breeding kink (a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy). Reader has some insecurities about her body.

A/N: This idea was requested a while ago. I'm so sorry it took me so long to get it done. But here it is! Someone asked for horny!future!dad!Spencer? Well, you’re welcome.

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

You can't say you are thrilled about staying in Virginia when all of your team is fighting crime on the other side of the country. Not when it has been ten days since they are gone. Not when you haven't seen your husband that long because he happens to work on the same team.

It's not that you had another option, though. Considering you are almost in your 21st week of pregnancy, your doctor advised you to take it slow on the job. That means being on the field miles away from home became a big no, and this time, you had to settle for nightly phone calls and daily texts with Spencer.

So it doesn't surprise anyone to see the happiness on your face when Hotch calls around midday, announcing that the case is over and they are flying home.

Penelope, always the joyful human being on Earth, immediately got on board with Rossi to host a gathering in his mansion once they were back tonight. Of course, Rossi agreed. Virtually no one can say no to Penelope.

"Okay, mama-genius," she says after ending the call with David. "We have a party tonight and a lot of things to do."

You may be worried about what 'a lot' can imply, but it is just a saying. Penelope will do most of it anyway, claiming you can't do any strenuous task so as not to bother baby-genius. Since the moment you and Spencer told the team about the baby's coming, Garcia baptized you all: papa-genius, mama-genius, and baby-genius. You find it the cutest thing in the world.

Walking through the supermarket aisles, you get everything you'll need: snacks, alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks, and all the stuff. And with the cart full, Penelope sends you home to get ready.

"But Pen, you need help to set all this up."

"Don't worry, honey. I already have Anderson waiting for me at Rossi's. The benefits of having a spare key," she proudly says, dangling her keychain full of keys. "Now go! Go to get ready for your man. I know you have been missing him like crazy."

She is not wrong in the slightest, so you don't fight her. A bath sounds nice right now, and with all the pregnancy going on, you'll need the extra time to get ready.

-

Ten days have been torture for Spencer Reid. It's the longest he has been apart from you since you guys discovered you are pregnant. Sure, phone calls and texts help, but it's not enough. Not to the overprotective Spencer, anyway. It's not that he doesn't trust you; he does. But his mind always works in overdrive, and he worries more than he should. Not to mention, he has missed you like he hasn't seen you in months.

When Rossi tells the team the plans for the night once they arrive, Spencer is a bit disappointed. He would have preferred to go straight home to be with you. But when JJ assures him you will be there, his apprehensions change to anticipation.

The kind of anticipation that keeps him anxious until everyone arrives at Rossi's past 8 p.m. They were a little bit late for the estimated time, but the traffic was hell today.

A happy Penelope opens the door before Rossi can reach his key.

"Welcome home, mon amis."

"My home, you say?" the old man corrects, no real annoyance in his voice.

"Share is care, so our home is," Garcia retorts, effusively hugging every team member crossing the threshold. The last one is Spencer. "Your woman is waiting for you," she whispers to him after almost crushing him in her embrace.

Spencer practically runs to the living room, where you are greeting everyone. His eyes nearly can't give credit to what he sees. Of course, he knows how you look. He has known you for years and has memorized every detail of you: your height, the way your head leans when you're listening to someone, the color of your eyes, the way you smile, your expressive hands, and every curve of your body. But today? Something looks different, alluring, magnetic, and so entrancing.

His brain has a suitable explanation for it. Sure, when you haven't seen your partner in days, you tend to enhance every detail you love about them. 'Love hormones,' others would say. But no, this is more than psychology and chemistry.

Pregnancy has made changes in you. It was expected, and Spencer knows that, but reading it in a book is way different than seeing it for himself. Sure, there were the headaches and the morning sickness in the early stages. Adding the mood swings and fatigue. But nothing prepared him for the body changes. And not in the bad way people must think, all the opposite. To Spencer, pregnancy has made you the most sexy woman in the world. And after ten days of being deprived of those changes, to him, all come at once. Your breasts got bigger, and you definitely started to show more. The sundress you're wearing just enhances those details, and Spencer feels like he can faint right there.

When your eyes meet across the room, his breath hitches; those eyes he loves so much are glowing and chanting a spell Spencer won't escape from. Not that he wants to, anyway.

Shameless, you leave your conversation with Prentiss and Luke and run to your husband, throwing your arms around his neck.

"I missed you," you murmur into his neck. Spencer hugs you back and closes his eyes, relishing how good you smell and how good it is to have you in his arms again. "We missed you," you add.

The mention of your unborn child melts Spencer on the spot. "I missed you both, too," he manages to say, reluctantly parting from your embrace to look at you and get lost in your eyes again. "I love you," he whispers, leaning to capture your lips with his. And just like that, the anti-PDA, Spencer Reid, indulges himself in kissing you in front of everyone.

The teasing from the team around is only background noise, and neither Spencer nor you are very concerned about it. Not until you involuntarily tug his hair, and Spencer needs to do everything in his power to stop the groan threatening to escape his lips.

Parting and clearing your throats, you both try to regain composure. All the team's eyes are on you, but the only one who dares to point out the obvious is Rossi.

"I have a guest room upstairs, at the second door down the hall."

The comment causes the team to laugh and you to be mortified.

"Sorry," you both mumble, a deep shade of crimson adorning your cheeks. Grabbing your hand, Spencer pulls you to a corner. You're still in sight of the people but far enough to talk and not be listened to.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He points to your baby's belly. It's not an accusatory question, more like an excited one.

"I wanted it to be a surprise. I would have liked to be in a more private setting, but I wasn't going to miss being here and waiting for you at home to show you."

Spencer's hand rests over your now prominent belly and rubs soothing patterns there. "It's amazing," he admits. "How are you feeling?"

You let out a content sigh, feeling the warmth emanating from your husband's palm to your lower stomach.

"Much better now you're here."

"They haven't done much trouble, have they?"

"Nah. Behaves like an angel." And it's the truth. The second trimester has been much better than the previous one: no morning sickness, less fatigue, and it has been great.

There are other 'issues' though. The boost of energy has been paired with an increase in your libido that sometimes is very hard to control. The times Spencer is around, having sex can be enough, but with days passing and with the tenderness and care Spencer has been touching you, it's getting hard to satiate your most primal needs. You know he does it because he doesn't want to hurt you, but even if you have assured him you won't break, he hesitates nonetheless.

And now, after all these days without him, you are sure another touch from him, even the most innocent, will set your body on fire. You are sure this night will be excessively long.

Spencer's thoughts are not very different from yours. The moment he sees you in your sundress walking to him was enough to make his mind wander.

"OK, mister. Enough lovebirds' moment for now. The girls need their time, too." Without warning, Penelope grabs your hand to lead you to the group where Tara, Emily, and JJ are.

You can only shrug to Spencer as Penelope drags you from him. Spencer gives you a reassuring smile. It's fine; you are both adults, he reminds himself. How can it be so difficult to keep his hands to himself for a couple of hours?

Easier said than done, he'll realize.

Neither of you can't help the stolen glances across the room or the subtle smiles you share as you talk to the team at different spots in the house.

Spencer doesn't know if he can control himself much longer. You look stunning and tempting, and his mind starts to fill with unholy things he wants to do to you.

"Reid?" Luke's worried voice gets him out of his mental predicament.

"I - uh. I'm sorry, what did you say?" 

"Are you alright, man? You seem distracted."

If alright means extremely horny and with an incipient boner tightening his pants, then yes, he's more than alright.

"Yes. Yeah. Uh - I'll grab some water. Excuse me, I'll be right back."

The trip to the bathroom is quick and mildly effective: Splashing cold water on his face and reciting the Declaration of Independence in his mind, Spencer regains some composure and gets back to where the people—and you—are.

The night continues in the same way. It's not like you are openly teasing him, but Spencer can't help himself.

The last straw comes when you're in the backyard talking to JJ and Emily, and you're laughing so hard that your body jolts, making your breasts bounce a bit, exposing more of your cleavage. It's not that evident to anyone, but for Spencer, who has been gawking at you all night, it is clear as day.

He wants you, and he wants you now.

Spencer sets his glass of water on the table and strolls where you are. Giving JJ and Emily a tight-lip smile, he leans to whisper something in your ear. The girls can't hear what it is, but the flush in your cheeks should give them an idea.

"Yeah, it's kind of late. And yeah, I'm feeling a bit tired," you tell Spencer, now looking at the girls, not wanting to disclose what Spencer actually said.

"Sure, carrying a baby Reid must be exhausting," Emily teases, gaining a roll of eyes from Spencer.

"Go, guys. Don't worry; I think I'll leave soon, too," JJ says, and you nod gratefully to avoid making more uncomfortable the moment.

With a tight grip on your hand, Spencer walks with you to say goodbye to everybody. Then, no later than that, you hop on the Uber, already waiting outside Rossi's.

-

All the ride home, Spencer's hand rests firmly on your tigh. His eyes can't peel off of you. All of you. It's like he hasn't seen you in months and wants to memorize each feature. You look back at him with a mix of amusement and self-consciousness. The lust is all written on his gaze, but there is something more, too. Love, longing, reverence. It's like there isn't anything else in the world but you.

The thought only fuels how much you love him and, of course, how horny you feel. Is it hot in this car, or is that just your idea? Why is the ride taking longer than you would like? You're about to huff in protest when the vehicle stops at your destination. Thanks God!

Spencer never falters his grip on you all the time. You can feel him everywhere: on your hand as you take the stairs, on your lower back walking down the hall, on your shoulder when you fish the key in your purse.

As the door shuts behind you, Spencer's lips are on yours in an instant. Kissing you hard. Like he's a drowning man, and you are the air he needs.

"God, you don't know how hard it was to control myself," Spencer mumbles, now peppering wet kisses down your neck to your collarbone.

"Hard, uh? Well, I guess I have an idea," you say, palming him over his slacks, making him hiss.

"Don't tease me, please," Spencer growls between kisses as he walks you both through the apartment to your bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in your path.

"I'm not, baby. I promise I'm not. I'm as desperate as you are." You're not lying. Your body has been on fire the whole night. You want him as much as he wants you right now.

When your legs hit the bed, you're both only in your underwear.

Spencer breaks the kiss to look at you. The bedroom is only lit by the hallway lights. He reaches for the nightstand to switch the lamp on, but before he does, you stop him.

"Can we just-" You don't finish the sentence, but Spencer understands what you're asking for.

"Yeah. We can, of course. But what's wrong?"

It's not the first time you have sex with the room's lights off, but those times, neither of you has explicitly requested it. You usually don't have trouble with Spencer seeing you naked, but since you got pregnant and your body started to change, you don't feel sexy, and it is mining your confidence. Spencer's suspicion goes in that same direction.

"Nothing," you say, pulling him to kiss him again with the same passion as before. Spencer almost surrenders at your doing, but he stops.

"Hey," he whispers. "Talk to me."

You sit on the mattress, knowing you have to tell him what's bothering you. He sits by your side, patiently waiting for you to collect your thoughts and choose your words.

After some seconds of deliberation, it is you who switches the lamp on. Standing from the bed, you plant yourself in front of Spencer.

"What do you see?" you ask, with your hands on your hips.

Spencer's eyes rack your body from head to toe, especially double-taking your lower stomach, where your pregnant belly is. The answer is obvious to him.

"My perfect and sexy wife, standing almost naked in front of me, trying to kill me because I can't touch her yet."

You roll your eyes, huffing. "Spencer, be serious, please."

"I am! Baby, I don't know why you could think I'm not being honest with you."

There is a scold on the tip of your tongue, but you relent, changing it for a deep sigh.

"But look at me! These-" you say, eyes darting between your breast and the skin of your stomach. "There is no chance this is sexy. I'm bloated half of the time; my skin feels gross, and the stretch marks are more every day. And my tits! God, if I unhook my bra, they are going to fall to the floor!"

It's true, your body isn't the same as it was a couple of months ago, and it'll probably continue to change as the weeks go by, but for Spencer, that doesn't make you any less attractive or desirable—quite the opposite.

"Hey, look at me, please," Spencer asks in a soft voice. You do as he says, now feeling more exposed in front of him. Spencer notices and takes your hands to bring you closer to him.

"You know you're carrying a human being in your womb, right?" he asks, tracing soft patterns with his finger over the skin of your arms. "That makes your body not look or feel the way it usually does. But it's perfectly natural, and I'm sure you know that." Spencer stops to kiss your stomach. "What you don't seem to know is that every change makes you more perfect than you already are. Love, you are perfect for who you are, and your body is perfect because it's yours—stretch marks or not, breasts enlarged or not, swollen or not."

"You have to say that," you complain with an adorable pout, and Spencer chuckles.

“I have to say that because it's true. Did I lie to you before?” You shake your head no. “Exactly.”

He pulls you to him so you can sit on his lap. Your arms rest loosely around his neck. He looks up at you with only adoration in his eyes.

“Love. You look amazing. Gorgeous. And so so sexy. I have been craving to touch you all night, renegaded to only see you from afar. That's torture,” Spencer says, lips hovering over your jaw before trailing down loving kisses—the feel of his wet lips pushing your heart rate to go up.

“You don't know what you do to me, do you? All these days thinking about you, what it's like to have you in my arms, what it's like to be able to kiss you, to smell you.” Spencer says, his fingers dancing over the patch of exposed skin of your breasts still clad in your bra. His lips sucking on that special spot on your neck. You can't help the nasty moan that leaves your mouth.

His eyes search yours for permission when one of his hands rests on the clasp of your bra. You nod, and he unclasps it, revealing your full breasts to him. You swear you hear him whimper at the sight, just as you feel him twitch beneath your thighs.

“Fuck, darling. They are so perfect. So round, so full, so soft,” Spencer praises as his mouth latches to one of your nipples and, with one hand, squeezes the flesh of your other breast. “I couldn’t stop all night thinking about doing this. Claiming these perfect tits.”

“Spencer, fuck!” you moan when he sucks harder. “Yes!”

“So sensitive. These tits are all mine,” Spencer mumbles as he switches his mouth from one nipple to the other.

He keeps lapping, swirling his tongue, sucking. It's like he can't have enough of it. And you can feel it in your bones.

'Extasis' keeps it short to explain how you feel right now. Just with the use of his mouth, Spencer is already pushing you close to the edge. In the back of your mind, you can hear his voice explaining how nipple stimulation can produce orgasms. You didn't think it would be possible at the time, but now you're nearing experiencing it.

"Spence, please. Just -"

One of his hands travels south, leaving goosebumps in its wake until it reaches the waistband of your panties.

“Tell me what you need, baby. And I’ll give it to you.”

“I need you to touch me,” you mewl, your voice cracking with desire.

“Here?” Spencer teases, trailing feather touches across your inner thigh. His mouth marks your neck, his favorite spot on you.

“More. Please, don’t make beg,” you plead. Spencer’s smirk could tell he was not done with the teasing. But in all honesty, he doesn't know how much he can contain himself.

“My baby is desperate already. Let's see how much.” A hand sneaks under your panties, and the slick pooling there tells Spencer everything he needs to know.

“Fuck, you’re soaked. It’s all for me?” He cockily asks as his fingers tease your folds. You gasp at the contact of his fingers on you.

“For you only. Spencer, I’m yours. Always.”

“And I am yours. No matter what. I love you so much,” Spencer says, now claiming your mouth with a searing kiss. It's like he wants to devour you whole, beyond the physics laws, if it's possible.

You let yourself go, kissing him urgently, your fingers tangled in his hair, giving experimental tugs, which Spencer rewards with grunts of pleasure.

You don't realize when you start rocking on his lap, seeking more friction from his fingers.

Spencer continues his assault on your center, alternating the thrusting of his fingers in and out with rubbing against your clit.

"Oh, God!" You whine, not fully believing how good it feels.

“So good, my love. So so good,” Spencer chants. His free hand on your back, maneuvering to lay you down on the mattress without stopping his ministrations in your pussy, and latching his lips to the crook of your neck. The new position allows him to reach deeper inside you with his fingers, massaging that spongy spot that makes you see stars.

“Right there! Oh, please.” You are on the verge of falling, your body surrending to Spencer’s experimented touch. He knows your body better than you.

Your moans go straight to Spencer’s cock, twitching inside his boxers, rock-hard and screaming for attention, but he has a mission before ever thinking of his pleasure. He needs you to come on his fingers first.

“Are you going to come for me, baby?”

“Yes! I’m so - so close,” you cry.

“I can feel you clenching on my fingers. That's it. Let go, my love. Cum for me; let me feel you,” Spencer encourages, and it's the last push you need. Your vision goes white, and your body starts to shake. The coil snaps and flows your body with waves of pleasure.

“Fuck! Yes!” You cry as your orgasm travels through your body. “Spencer! Yes!”

Spencer doesn’t stop the in and out of his fingers, still rubbing your clit, at a slower pace, helping you to ride it out. His breath is hot on your neck, mumbling praises of how good you are, how much he has missed you, and how good you feel around his fingers.

When the aftershocks subside, Spencer carefully retracts his fingers, sucking them clean before passionately kissing you. You can taste yourself on his lips, fueling the desire to have more of him.

“I missed you,” you say, still breathless. Spencer lies on the mattress by your side, stroking your cheek.

“And I missed you. Both of you,” he says, now rubbing a hand over your belly. You let out a content sigh. “We don’t have to do anything else tonight. We can just prepare to go to bed.”

Your head snaps up in an instant.

“Are you fucking kidding me? No! We’re not done, mister. We have a lot of days apart to make it up to.”

Spencer laughs. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Start with those boxers. Get them off,” you command, kneeling on the mattress and suddenly feeling a rush of adrenaline. Spencer pulls his boxers down, freeing his cock from the confines of the fabric. It's hard, red, and already leaking precum. And your mouth waters.

“Like the view?” He teases.

“Very,” you shamelessly reply, gawking at the way his cock twitches under your gaze. You position between his legs. He is at your level sight with his elbows on the mattress. You wrap a hand around his shaft, giving a light squeeze, as your other hand looks purchase on his thigh. Spencer hisses at the contact.

“Baby, you don’t have to,” he reminds you, knowing this position could be uncomfortable for you.

“Oh, yes, I have to,” you counter. “I have been thinking about sucking you off for weeks, Spencer. Weeks!”

Spencer laughs at your dramatics, but still, he reaches for your chin to tilt up so you can look at him.

“Just let me know if it's too much, and we can stop, okay?”

Did you mention before about how careful he has been treating you since you discovered you were pregnant? Yes, you did. And here is a reminder.

“Okay,” you reassure him, giving an experimental lick at the tip. The salty taste just encourages you to lick the underside, from base to tip and back and forth. Spencer’s moans are music for your ears. You lower yourself now, taking him in your mouth—inch by glorious inch.

There is something special about giving Spencer head, and it’s beyond the sexual component of pushing him to orgasm. It's about the way he surrenders to your touch, the way he is splayed over the bed at your mercy. The way he trusts you in such a vulnerable position. He doesn't rush you; he’s pliant at your pace because he knows you know how to pleasure him.

“Fuck!” he groans when you go deeper. “So good, baby. You take it so good.”

As him with yours, you relish on his praises. He never stops complimenting you and vocalizing the way you make him feel. Evidence of how much you like it is the pool of wetness forming in your center just hearing him moan and talk.

With renewed vigor, you keep bobbing your head up and down, swirling your tongue, and extracting the more nasty and sexy noises from Spencer’s lips.

“Just - just like that. You are doing amazing.” His hands rest over your head, but he doesn’t push or pull; he just grounds himself in the midst of the pleasure cloud he is in.

But when that knowing coil is forming on him, Spencer knows he needs you to stop, or he won’t last much.

Gently, he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you back. You understand the signal and release him with a pop.

“What is it? You don’t want to?” You ask, licking your lips full of fluids of both of you. Spencer is panting, shaking his head no.

“You were amazing, but I don’t want to cum yet. And I want to cum inside of you.” The admission makes the heat in your body rise.

His hand caresses lovingly your cheek as you’re sitting on your haunches on the mattress. Spencer sits with his back on the headboard, raking your entire naked body from head to toe. His eyes are full of adoration.

Leave it to Spencer to look at you like you were Afrodite's incarnation, even with your grown breasts and bloated body.

“What?” You ask, giggling out of nervousness. Years with him, and that piercing gaze still makes your heart flutter.

"Marvelous. So beautiful. The most gorgeous. Perfect.”

Before you can protest the overflowing compliments, Spencer's hands cup your face to pull you into a deep kiss. You kiss him back with urgency, straddling him. Spencer’s hands go to your waist to keep you in place, where you belong, on top of him. From that position, you can feel his cock twitching with want.

"Spencer-" you mumble in his lips, almost like a whisper.

"Yes, sweetheart?" he asks, focusing on how you start swaying your hips, making contact with his hardness, and settling him on fire.

“I need to ride you, now,” you plead, and Spencer can’t say no to you even if he tried.

“Then ride me. Take everything you need from me,” Spencer says, leaving the grasp of your hips so you can lift yourself to position his cock at your entrance. You start to sink and you both are gasping for air. It feels so good. You feel so full with every pull and push of your core into Spencer’s cock. It's a sensation that never gets old.

“That's it. You are doing so well. Take your time,” Spencer reminds you, but you have been craving him so much that you don’t have patience anymore. Spencer's hands come back to your hips, and yours rest on his shoulders for balance. With a last bounce, you’re full to the hilt.

“Fuck!” You hiss. The stretching is a mix of pain and pleasure that’s driving you insane. Spencer’s concerned eyes seek yours.

“You okay?” He asks, his gaze now raking your body, looking for something that can tell him about your discomfort.

“Yes! I’m okay—more than okay,” you assure him. Then you remember there is something he needs to know, something you need from him.

"Spencer, look at me," you demand, and he does what you ask.

"Yeah?" he pants, eyes mapping your face for any sign of what you want to say.

"I want something. Better said, I need something,” you pant, feeling already the urge to move.

"Okay, whatever you need. I'll give it to you."

"I need to feel you. All of you.” Spencer nods.

“You are feeling me now, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Spencer. I’m talking about being rough. I need it hard. Please, baby, don't hold back."

“Oh.” Realization hits him at the same time you clench around him. “Fuck. But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Love, I promise you, you won’t break me.”

Spencer looks still hesitant.

“Please, don’t deprive me of you. I need to be consumed by you. I need to feel you everywhere; I need to be reminded I'm yours, and you're mine. Remind me you’re the only one who can have me like this. Remind me who put this baby in me.”

The way Spencer’s cock twitches inside of you and the groan escaping his lips is enough for you to know he got the memo.

His eyes darkened even more, and you could swear you saw a smirk on his face.

“You don’t know what you’re asking, do you?” he says, thrusting up so you can feel him deeper.

“Ah! Show me! Give me what you think I deserve, please,” you beg, and for Spencer is the last straw. With both hands on your hips, he starts to bounce you up and down. Your hands rest on his stomach as you try to catch a rhythm. It starts messy and frantic, and you can’t care less. You’re riding Spencer, and that's what matters.

“So tight. I don’t know how I can fit here. Feels amazing.” Spencer's voice is strained, breathless.

As you gain more control over your movements, the grinding intensifies. Every part of your body is on fire. The bounce of your breasts makes Spencer feral.

“These tits. Are mine. All mine,” Spencer chants, hands squeezing them. “You’re mine.”

Damn right, you think. You are his. Every part of you is his, in the same way you are claiming him as yours right now.

Not fully satisfied with touching, Spencer leans forward and captures one of your nipples with his mouth, one arm around your waist to help you as you keep riding him.

“Fuck! Spencer!” You cry when he sucks harder. Tugging his hair, you speed your rhythm, feeling the coil forming, a new orgasm approaching.

At some point your legs start to falter, the exertion making them cramp, but you don’t want to stop. Spencer notices, though.

“I’ve got you,” he says, maneuvering you on your back without pulling out. Now he’s on top, and your legs over his shoulders. “That’s better, uh?”

You nod eagerly. “But don’t stop, please.”

“I won’t.”

With this new angle, Spencer thrusts deeper and harder. It's all you have wanted for weeks. The sinful sound of skin hitting skin fills the room, and you can respire the smell of sweat and sex.

“Yes! Just like that!”

“Oh, so you wanted it harder, uh? My sweet, dirty thing,” Spencer coos, head nestled in the crook of your neck. You feel his hot breath, how he’s panting while giving you precise and deliberate thrusts, in and out, in and out.

“Spence, I’m close,” you warn, and Spencer doesn't halt his movements, leaning a bit back to look at you.

“Me too, baby.”

You are a sight to behold. Your messy hair, sweat sparkling on your skin, eyes full of lust, the moans leaving your lips, tits bouncing with every thrust, and that bump, where your baby is. Spencer still can’t believe it's real.

“You’re so gorgeous. You look so good, pregnant with my baby. Everyone knows you’re mine.”

“Yours, always,” you half-sob, half-moan. The pleasure is overwhelming, and you can feel it in your bones. Spencer knows exactly how to get you there. He’s almost there too.

“That’s what you want? That I keep you nice a knocked up all the time? Do you want my cum, don’t you?”

“Yes! All the time. Please.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you nice and full.” Spencer vows, kissing your calf and sneaking down his fingers to rub your clit in tight circles.

“Oh, God.”

You’re on the verge of falling. The wet sounds your bodies are making, the panting and moans, Spencer’s words, everything is pushing you to the edge.

“Come for me, come on my cock,” Spencer demands, and it is like your body has to comply because as the words leave his mouth, your orgasm hits you like a freight train.

“Fucking shit! Yes!” You scream, feeling your body trembling with pleasure. Spencer’s pace keeps, now chasing his own end.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, losing some rhythm. “So good for me.”

You can feel him twitching inside with each thrust as you clench your walls, still riding your high.

“Spencer, please. Cum inside. Fill me up, baby. I need it so bad,” you plead, and Spencer loses it. After a deep thrust, he grunts and stills inside, spilling everything he has. You feel his warmth filling you up, a content sigh leaving your lips.

For a few seconds, you both remain still, panting and trying to catch your breath. Spencer is the first to react. Not pulling out, he lowers your legs from his shoulders, massaging them gently while he peppers your neck with kisses. You giggle, still drunk of post-orgasmic hormones.

“You did so good, my love,” he praises. Your hands cup his face so he can look at you.

“I love you, Spencer. I missed you so much,” you declare as you lean in to kiss his lips. Spencer reciprocates immediately. This kiss is sweet, not rushed, but takes your breath away as all Spencer’s kisses do.

“I love you, too,” he mumbles on your lips. “And it was torture being away from you for so many days. But I’m here right now; I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good, because tonight I’m not done with you yet.”

With the whimper that escapes Spencer’s lips and the twitch of his cock still inside of you, it’s clear he knows exactly how the night will go from here.

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

[ladyloveandjustice]

Seeing people say they get more attached to the male characters the female characters because they're "badly written" is always such a weak excuse but pulling it for the Batfamily is so wild. Because all comics characters are badly written at one point or another. Batman has some of the most inconsistent characterization and worst writing of ALL TIME, everyone has their conflicting vision of Batman and how much of an asshole he should be so it's a mess. He's done some outrageously unforgiveable shit you have to ignore if you want to keep liking the character??? Stuff that makes absolutely no sense where you can't even fathom why he'd do that??? But then other writers ignore it, and you ignore it.

Jason Todd's characterization was a fucking contradictory mess when he was first resurrected (and is probably still bad and inconsistent sometimes I imagine. I haven't sampled enough of the new comics but he does seem to flip flop a lot) but he is THE most popular character to write fanfic about based on the number of kudos search I did, and all those fanfic I read either just quickly glosses over the stuff he did in Battle of the Cowl etc, or completely ignore it, or blames it on the Lazurus Pit or whatever. Because it was all pretty stupid! Because that comic was bad!

Nobody could agree on how to write Damian when he first debuted either and it's kind of hilarious going back to those comics to see how inconsistent he is. (especially how Morrison wrote him as like, so good the best unbeatable and others were like "no. doesn't matter how highly trained he is. he's ten. Tim could absolutely fuck him up in ten seconds if he wanted to" (and does, eventually. after getting tired of being constantly attacked). Steph can fight him evenly and she's definitely holding back bc he's a child, so she'd win too if she weren't. He's ten." it's honestly very funny to contrast them.)

All the characters have great writing too though, and that's why people love them! And this is just as much the case for the girls! Babs has tons of excellent writing as Oracle. Steph has tons of good writing too. Cass has honestly hands down one of the best solo comic runs of all time, and it lasted 70+ issues. Selina has some excellent comics...and so on, and so forth.

All of them has extremely angsty crunchy often compelling backstories that the fanfic community would be all over if they were guys.

And they are all just as traumatized and sad as the boys, and fandom loves trauma. Anything Dick or Jason or Tim have gone through they've probably also had an equivalent experience. Being tortured by a villain and dying after being fired as Robin and then relentlessly victim blamed? oh hey Steph's had that happen too. Being poor and surviving on the streets as kid? Selina's been through that. Being raised as a child assassin? Cass did that way before Damian.

There's overall less comics about them (preboot at least I'm not keeping up post that) but like. there's still a LOT of comics they were in, it really should not matter.

"the women aren't written as well/aren't as interesting and that's why" is such a pathetic claim in a fandom like comics where everyones been written well, horribly, and everything in between, and I really think people should learn to admit they just don't care about female characters as much, it's easier on us all. you don't have to force yourselves to write about them if it's a chore, I'd rather you not because that writing will suck. But be honest, come on.

[ravenstargames]

✦ LOST IN LIMBO DEVLOG #19 | 06.02.2025

Happy Pride month besties! 💜 Yes, this year too we'll have a Pride month piece, but it's in the making!

This month has been packed with concept art and getting the new update ready, so there's not that much to write about. Showing all the concept art would spoil the artbook, so apologies if this devlog looks shorter than it should. Don't worry, we are still going full-speed ahead! Let's jump into it!

World, meet your trustworthy sidekick, she who has had your back since the beginning—Evie!

You already know a bit of her; she likes everything related to the occult world, is a prime member of the Faybourne Waterpolo Club, and her favorite color is blue!

Evie's base sprite is finished, so now we gotta jump to her expressions. Those are fairly easy and quick (Raquel's words, not mine), so I expect to start coding kind of soon! ✨

Also, concept art on the MC's dear mom is done! So we've moved on to the sprite phase, and also started working on the concept art of MC's troublemaking grandmother. Kickstarter folks will have ✨juicy✨ previews on that content, so y'all will have to wait for a bit as per usual!

May has been Amon's month. I've been writing the first chapter of his route, as well as editing the prologue following our editor's guidelines. I think this month will be packed of corrections, and I'm excited to tackle them!

As y'all know, demo update 1.1.0 (now 1.1.1, as some characters were very insistent in partaking in some floating activities) went live! This month I've been working on patching stuff as well as refining the android build. I originally used two different projects for the PC version and the mobile one, but after lady and savior Feniks graced me with knowledge once more, I dipped my toes into Ren'py variants; and it's been going great! After publishing these devlogs, I'll start uploading the new android build everywhere 💜✨

Kayden has been working on more mini-CGs to enhance the ✨experience✨of the new prologue! Amongst those CGs, we have the Sovereign's hospitality in the shape of breakfast. I wonder who delivers it...?

So now that we've seen how the concept art / sprite part of it all works with Airyn's addition to the team, we're confident things will be up to speed in the upcoming months! Airyn works like a beast, has amazing ideas, and executes them flawlessly, with the addition of being a great friend of ours!

What else...I'm still working on my investigation plan (my PhD, hahaa...), Raquel is now taking driving lessons, and she's also been working on the Pride Month piece. We got a sketch yesterday but agreed to modify it a bit after some thought. Initially, Gael was going to be the one getting an illustration for Pride Month this year, but things didn't go as planned (Raquel was frustrated with not being able to come up with a good idea for him) and Amon has taken his place. Happens to the best of us!

Work this month has been good! A lot of concept and planning that we can't show (well, Kickstarter folks will see more of it) but that is vital for the development of the game. I'm not going to ramble a lot in this one—sometimes you've to go straight to the point!

Thank you everyone who played our 1.1.1 update; thank you for the comments, well-wishes, feedback, and everything else. Also, thanks for keeping our ask box lively and overflowing! 💜

Let's see each other around!

[tortillamastersblog]

Where Light Bends Wrong - Part 10 | Wednesday Addams

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

Warnings: mentions of murder and blood

Summary: You’ve kept your secret buried and your power quiet, until Wednesday Addams came to Nevermore and turned your whole world upside down.

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆ ⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧

Sneaking out was easier than anticipated because I didn’t actually have to sneak out. I simply asked Iris if I could take my break earlier because Weems was looking for me, and since she's the shift manager, she agreed.

Which is how I ended up where I am right now, half walking, half jogging through the forest with Thing perched on my shoulder, tapping directions to where he last saw Wednesday.

Thunder rumbles in the distance, and through the branches of the trees above me, I can make out the way the clouds darken ominously. The air is also heavy with the smell of rain, and I curse myself inwardly for not grabbing an umbrella or at least taking a jacket with me since I’m only wearing that ugly tan polo shirt from the café. 

Right here, Thing taps after a few minutes and I come to a stop amidst some dense trees. There’s no sign of Wednesday except some broken twigs on a bush, so I close my eyes and tune into her steady heartbeat. She’s not too far from here, so I reopen my eyes and make my way toward her with Thing still perched on my shoulder.

“Hey, man, I uh…I wanted to thank you for not telling Wednesday about the book,” I say, glancing at the appendage on my shoulder. “And I’m sorry for accusing you of taking it and throwing me under the bus.”

Thing shifts to tap on my collar bone. All good. It’s the least I could do after you saved Wednesday’s life. Twice.

I offer a thankful little smile and continue walking until I eventually brush a lowhanging branch aside, revealing the ruins of the old meeting house.

“There,” I mumble when I see the outline of Wednesday inside the ruin. 

Thing taps a thank you on my shoulder before jumping off and scurrying through the leaves toward Wednesday. 

I follow, although a little more cautious because I don’t know how Wednesday will react when she sees me.

“There you are,” she says when she sees the hand. “I was starting to think you’d been swallowed by the ground.”

Thing signs something which makes Wednesday's eyes snap up and land on me right as I step through the rotting wooden doors.

She tilts her head and just stares at me for a moment before stating, “For someone who claims they don’t want to be involved in stuff, you sure show up a lot when no one asks you to.”

“I know,” is all I say which seems to surprise her. She frowns and crosses her arms, about to make me elaborate, but then a twig snaps behind her and she spins around.

My eyes also dart to the homeless man who’s suddenly standing there, having appeared out of nowhere. His greasy blonde hair sticks to his forehead and the side of his face, and the wild, almost feral look in his eyes makes me realize he’s on drugs. 

“What are you two doing here?” he snarls, taking a threatening step forward which makes me step up next to Wednesday just in case. “This is my place! Get out!”

He’s more desperate than angry, but if you ask me desperation is even more dangerous and I nudge Wednesday and say, “Come on, let’s go,” but she doesn’t budge.

She just crosses her arms and says, “Thing, a hand here?” which makes Thing scramble into action.

The man frowns at the sight of a severed hand crawling toward him, but doesn’t react until Thing is suddenly choking him.

“Oh my God.” I don’t know what to do or how to react, so I just watch with wide eyes as the man stumbles out of the meeting house, trying to pry Thing off his neck.

“Get off! Get off me!” he exclaims and only once they’re a good distance away does Thing release him. 

The man limps off, horrified and groaning, and I turn to Wednesday with a raised eyebrow.

“Was that really necessary?” I ask which makes her narrow her eyes.

“Would you rather have him stab us with a hypodermic needle?” she shoots back and even though I’m invulnerable and nothing would have happened if he’d tried with me, I can’t say the same about her, so I just sigh and cross my arms.

Wednesday averts her eyes and starts looking around the place. Thing joining us a moment later, and together he and I watch Wednesday until I can’t stand the silence any more. “What are you doing out here anyway?”

She examines the old fireplace for a moment longer before turning around and saying, “I’m looking for clues. I–”” She bites the inside of her cheek–” I had a vision. During the Poe Cup when I touched Joseph Crackstone’s crypt. There was this girl and she said something about me being the key.”

I frown and watch as she takes off her backpack, pulling out a book which I recognize as one from the Nightshades’ library. 

That must have been the one she was looking for…

She opens it to reveal the full drawing of the vision Rowan’s mother had. She’s taped the single page she had before back into the book, right next to the other half of the drawing, which now that I’m looking at it in full, is even more disturbing that just the one half she already showed me.

She’s not alone in the drawing. No, she’s facing off against a pilgrim with some kind of staff.

Crackstone.

I know it’s him. Everyone who lives in Jericho or goes to Nevermore knows who he is. After all, he’s basically the founder of this town.

The question is just, how is that possible?

Joseph Crackstone has been dead for almost four hundred years now…

Also, why would she be facing off against him? That doesn’t make any sense. Is the drawing even depicting a conflict, or is it something else entirely? I have absolutely no idea. 

I bet that’s why she switched assignments with Enid, to find out more about him.

I tear my eyes away from the book and look back at Wednesday who’s watching me carefully for my reaction. 

When she doesn’t see outright rejection in my face, she shuts the book again and slips it back into her bag, saying, “I saw a painting of the girl from my vision in the replica of the meeting house in Pilgrim World. She was right where we are now, so I’m trying to find some clues as to who she was and what she meant when she said I was the key.”

“You’re trying to trigger a vision,” I state the obvious which makes her nod.

“That was the plan, yes, but there’s nothing here,” she says, sounding a little frustrated which, even after everything that’s happened between us, makes me feel for her.

First we witness a literal murder that’s being actively covered up, and now she’s supposedly destined to destroy the school and it’s all linked to some long-dead pilgrim. Also, to make matters worse, she has to rely on her visions to get more information, and if I’ve learned anything during my time going through all kinds of books in the Nightshades’ library, it is that visions can be super inaccurate and misleading.

Thing taps, Can’t you just touch something? Which makes Wednesday shake her head as she takes off her backpack and sets it down on the ground. 

“No, I can’t. My visions seem to happen spontaneously,” she says, walking around again and looking at the charred remains of the old meeting house.

Thing signs something that I don’t quite catch because I’m looking around as well now while keeping an ear out for anyone lurking close by, but we’re alone. However, what he signed must have struck a nerve with Wednesday because she glares at him and says, “I’d rather dye my hair pink than ask my mother for advice.”

I smile a little and mumble, “Wouldn’t that be a sight to see?” which makes her scowl at me, so I quickly raise my hands in mock surrender and add, “Just kidding.”

Thing moves toward a beam on the ground and scratches at it suggestively, almost as if saying just try which makes Wednesday scoff.

“You want me to prove it to you?” she asks sarcastically before dramatically pressing her hand against the beam next to her.

Nothing happens, so she moves onto one of the more intact walls, repeating what she just did, only with both her hands now. 

“Nothing,” she states the obvious with a deadpan expression.

Thing and I share a look as she keeps going around the ruin, touching things dramatically in an attempt to trigger a vision. 

It’s honestly quite amusing because I didn’t think she could be this dramatic, especially when she pretends to have a vision when she picks up a Taco Bell bag a squatter must have left behind.

But then she moves onto what used to be the main door, and the second her hand grazes against it, she goes rigid and her head snaps back the way it did in the forest when she found Rowan’s glasses. 

“Oh crap.” I dart forward and catch her before she can fall, but this time her body doesn’t stay rigid the way it did before. No, the second I touch her, she sags against me with her eyes closed, almost as if she just passed out. “Thing?” I ask, a little freaked out, but the hand just shrugs and taps, She’s fine. Give her a moment.

I look back at Wednesday’s relaxed face and frown when I see her eyes rapidly moving beneath her eyelids.

A minute passes, and then two, and I look at Thing again, who seems to get restless as well.

“How long do her visions usually last?” I ask, adjusting my grip on her.

Not that long. He signs. But she just started having them, so I don’t know what’s normal.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, and when another minute or so passes and I feel the first drops of rain on my forehead, I gently pick Wednesday up. Part of the meeting house's roof is still intact by the fireplace, so I carry her there before sinking onto the leaf covered ground and leaning back against the wall with her still in my arms. Her head lolls so I adjust her until it’s resting against my chest. It’s definitely better for her, and will be more comfortable when she wakes up, but her breath is now hitting the side of my neck, making my ears heat up involuntarily. 

If she were awake right now, she’d surely push me away, maybe even chop off my arms because they’re wrapped around her middle, but she’s actually starting to shiver slightly and I don’t want her to get too cold. The rain gets heavier with every passing second, and soon thunder rumbles right overhead, but Wednesday is still not waking up. 

Thing is on my knee, overlooking Wednesday and touching her wrist every now and then, also worried about the girl.

“I don’t like this,” I admit quietly when her lips turn a pale shade of blue. “What is happening?”

I don’t know, Thing signs, checking her pulse again. 

I shiver as well since the café’s polo has short sleeves and the wind, which is turning chilly, blows a chunk of the rain in our direction. But then, almost as if on cue, my fingertips start tingling, and warmth spreads through my hands and up my forearms.

I frown and look down, only for my eyes to widen when I see a faint golden glow traveling up my arms through my veins. 

Wednesday, still unconscious, lets out a shuddering breath right against my neck and sinks more against me, but unlike before, I’m too focused on my hands and arms to really notice. 

What is this?!

Feeling Thing shift makes me flinch because for a split second I forgot he was here in the first place, but he is, and he’s seeing this, whatever this is.

“No, no, no.” My heart starts racing and I will my powers to retreat, but nothing happens. My veins just keep glowing steadily, pulsing softly in time with my ever increasing heartbeat. 

I go to unwrap my arms from around Wednesday, to get away, but then Thing grabs onto my wrist and I freeze.

It’s okay, he taps as tears well up in my eyes.

“No, I can’t– You can’t—”

He tightens his grip. Stop. Don’t go. She needs you.

“But–” My powers, my secret, my entire life–

No buts. I know, he taps and my heart almost stops, but then he goes on. You’re an Ægiryn. One of the last of your kind. 

“How do you–?”

How do I know? 

I nod, my breathing shaky. He knows. He knows what I am. 

He lets go of my wrist to sign, I was there the night Rowan was killed. I saw your eyes when you grabbed him.

“You were there?” I ask breathlessly even though he just said he was. Still, he taps a yes and I blink in confusion, processing. 

“So you’ve known all this time?”

Yes.

I relax ever so slightly. “But you didn’t tell anyone?”

No.

“Why not?” I ask quietly. “I mean, Wednesday’s been curious about me all this time, and you’re her family, so why–?”

It wasn’t my secret to tell, he cuts me off before tapping my knee reassuringly.

I frown, not exactly convinced yet, but then again, if he had told Wednesday, she wouldn’t have thrown that knife at me, or tested my reflexes. Also, why would he lie now when he kept his mouth – or should I say fingers– shut about me in the library.

“I… Thank you,” I breathe a moment later, blinking my tears back. 

He obviously knows what’s at stake for me as Ægiryn, and I’m more than thankful that he’s not going to spill my secret. 

He curtsies in acknowledgement, and I let out a shuddering breath. My heart is still racing, but I’m feeling lighter than before. 

I look down to see Wednesday’s eyes are still closed, and only when I get a whiff of her smell do I realize how close we actually are.

Yes, I felt her breath on my neck right before my powers decided to make an appearance, but I’m actually realizing what position we are in right now, and even though it should be freaking me out because I know we’d never be like this if she was awake, I can’t ignore the way warmth, similar to the one in my veins, spreads through my chest. 

It’s almost like the pendant is still around my neck, radiating said warmth, but I know it’s not, which makes me wonder if my pendant was actually acting up all this time, or if it was just reacting to something that was happening inside me.

I swallow dryly, and push away the thought of a certain bond again, and instead focus on my arms.

I’ve never actually seen my powers do what they’re doing right now, so it’s actually very fascinating to watch. 

Thing, who senses I’m once again calm, watches too as the rain pelts down around us. That is until he taps, Look, and points at my hand. 

I let my eyes drift down my arm and feel my breath hitch slightly when they land on what he’s pointing at. 

The veins in Wednesday’s pinky finger, which is the only part of her hand that is touching mine, are also pulsing a faint shade of gold. 

I shift my hand away and watch as her veins return back to normal before hesitantly brushing my fingers over the back of her hand. The veins there light up gently before fading again and I throw Thing a questioning look.

Just then, I hear a twig snap over the sound of the rain though, making me freeze and try to pick up on any more sounds.

It stays quiet, but I sense that we’re not alone, so with a growing sense of urgency, I uncurl my arms from around Wednesday and shift her off me. Chills immediately shoot up my spine from her lack of warmth, but I stand up anyway after making sure she’s comfortable against the wall.

“Did you hear that?” I ask Thing, but he just twists in answer, almost like a person would when shaking their head. 

I notice my veins are still glowing, even though it’s by far less noticeable than when I held Wednesday. I don’t dwell on it though, and focus on that feeling of something or someone nearby instead. I can’t pick up on any more sounds over the rain and Wednesday’s heartbeat though. 

And then, speaking of the devil, she wakes up with a gasp, which once again redirects my attention entirely. I turn around to find her wide eyed and for a moment she looks at her hand, the one I was touching just a moment ago, before turning to Thing.

“I saw her!” she exclaims. “The girl from my visions.” She looks at me and slowly gets to her feet. I step closer when she wobbles a bit, ready to lend her a hand, but in the end she manages without me. 

By now, my arms have returned back to normal, but I can still feel some of the warmth in my veins and in my chest.

“Her name is Goody Addams,” Wednesday goes on, her eyebrows furrowed, “and I believe she’s my ancestor from 400 years ago.”

“What does she want? Did she say anything?” I ask, shivering again when a particularly strong burst of wind whips a bunch of rain our way. 

Wednesday goes to answer, but then a twig snaps somewhere close by again, loud enough for even her and Thing to hear this time. 

“We should go,” I mumble, unease creeping up my spine. But Wednesday being Wednesday brushes me off and steps into the rain, completely unfazed that she’s soaked instantly, and looks through a gap in the rundown wall.

I hear a frantic heartbeat moments before an animalistic snarl cuts through the sound of rain, and then Wednesday stumbles back from the wall where I can make out the eye of the monster that killed Rowan. 

“Shit. Run!” I grab her bag and Thing, darting into the rain and grabbing her sleeve and pulling.

It snaps her out of her stupor and I shove her in front of me, toward one of the old side doors that hangs off its hinges.

She pushes through first, and I follow, hyper aware of the monster on the other side of the old meeting house. It doesn’t seem to want to follow us, because it hasn’t made a move yet, but it’s still scaring the shit out of me. So much so that I don’t pay enough attention when I push through the door myself. 

My hand gets caught on a rusty nail that’s sticking out of one of the wooden slats, making me hiss in pain and curse under my breath.

There’s no time to lose though, so I dart after Wednesday with her bag hanging off one shoulder and Thing clinging to the other. 

Thunder rumbles above, and after a couple yards, I’m completely drenched as well, but I keep running after Wednesday, making sure to look behind us every now and then for a trace of the monster, but it’s seemingly vanished into thin air. 

We run until we get to a muddy path in a clearing. There’s no sign of the monster anywhere, so deeming it safe, Wednesday stops and turns, her eyes searching the edge of the forest behind me before they land on me again.

“You okay?” I ask, panting, not from the exercise but from the adrenaline.

“I’m fine,” she says, quieter than usual.

It’s in that moment, with her looking like a wet dog, dark hair clinging to her pale forehead and drops of water caught in her lashes, that I realize how human she actually is at the end of the day. She hides it behind all her snark and attitude and cold shoulders, but she’s just like everyone else, and it’s in this moment that I also realize one thing I never thought possible, which is the fact that she’s scared. 

Even if she doesn’t want to admit it, she’s scared. Not necessarily because by some miracle we just managed to escape that monster, but because she has no idea what that drawing she saw means for her future. She doesn’t want the school to be destroyed, or for innocents to get hurt, and most of all, she doesn’t want to be the cause of it. 

Wednesday Addams might be a lot of things. Cunning, ambitious, morbid, and yes, sometimes a little tactless, but she’s not a killer, or some kind of fanatic who would watch the world burn for their ideals. 

“Are you?” she asks, stepping closer with furrowed eyebrows.

“Hmm?” I blink, not sure I heard her right.

“Are you okay?” she asks, with a tiny hint of exasperation in her voice, but it’s not as sharp as usual.

“I– Yeah…” I’m a little surprised she’d even ask, but then again, a lot of unexpected things have happened today and this one doesn’t take the cake.

She eyes me for a moment longer, her dark eyes seemingly looking through me, and for a moment I think the grip she has on her emotions is slipping because I feel something warm radiating off her that didn’t used to be there.

It’s gone in an instant though when Thing signs something on my shoulder and Wednesday’s eyes drop to my hand.

“You’re…bleeding,” she states, which makes me frown.

“What?” I lift my hand and gape at the sight of a trail of blood slowly but steadily dripping down my fingers from a deep cut on the back of my hand.

The nail…

“I…” I trail off, watching how the rain mixes with the blood, washing it away enough to reveal how the cut is already healing.

It’s unnaturally fast, and within moments, it’s completely closed, leaving behind a pink scar that’s also fading fast with every heartbeat.

I have no idea what is going on with me, but suddenly the last little shred of security I had left vanishes like sand running through fingers.

I’m not invulnerable any more. Or am I? Without thinking I crouch down, almost making Thing fall off my shoulder, and pick up a jagged looking rock.

“What are you–?” Wednesday’s eyes widen and she reaches forward almost as if to stop me when I drag the sharp edge of the rock over my forearm, but then she drops her hand again when she sees the motion didn’t even so much as leave a scratch.

I try again, but nothing happens, so I drop the rock and flex my hand, seeing that even the scar the nail left behind is now gone.

How is that possible? One moment I’m bleeding, and the next not even a literal cannonball could kill me.

I look up to maybe get some answers from Wednesday, but she’s staring at the ground where I dropped the rock.

I follow her line of sight and mumble, “You’ve got to be kidding me,” when I see what she’s seeing. 

The monster left paw prints in the mud, which means it must have come this way, but what’s worse is that when you follow the trail with your eyes, even through the rain, you can see how they shift from paw prints to footprints. Human footprints. Which means–

“The monster’s human.”

I meet Wednesday’s gaze, momentarily forgetting all about my temporary vulnerability.

“You know what that means, right?” she asks and I nod solemnly.

We’re no longer dealing with just a monster. We’re dealing with an outcast. Someone hiding in plain sight.

She needs you.

You’re an Ægiryn.

Her name is Goody Addams.

You’re bleeding.

The monster’s human.

I tighten my arms around my legs, and continue running my thumb over the pendant in my hand while staring out of the window at the dark courtyard and the forest beyond the school grounds.

Shortly after Wednesday and I discovered that the monster is an outcast, we ran into Xavier who claimed he’d been looking for Wednesday since he was worried about her being in the forest alone during the storm. He had no clue I’d gone after her too, which, of course, he didn’t hesitate to voice.

I just ignored him though, too preoccupied with what happened before he showed up. I did hear him confirm the fact that Rowan is dead though and that someone was impersonating him via a text he apparently got from Rowan about a snowboarding trip, but other than that, like I said, I didn’t pay him much attention.

I kept catching Wednesday looking at me with a little frown, but she didn’t say anything neither about her vision, nor about my bleeding. We just collectively trudged back to school in silence while the storm cleared up and the rain stopped.

We were all soaked when we got to Nevermore and Wednesday and Xavier both changed before making their way back to Jericho for the statue unveiling, while I texted Weems and asked if I could cut my assignment short, claiming I was overwhelmed by all the people. 

She agreed like I thought she would, since I didn’t mention anything about my excursion into the woods with Wednesday, which is how I ended up where I am right now, perched on my window seat.

I took a shower earlier to warm up, briefly hearing a commotion in Jericho which I’m guessing had something to do with the statue unveiling, but ever since that and grabbing the pendant from the wooden box under my bed, I haven’t moved. 

I know I must have been sitting here for hours now, but the memories and events of the day have rendered me paralyzed.

Not only does Thing know what I am, he didn’t tell anyone about it, not even Wednesday. And what was it that he tapped when I panicked and wanted to let go of her? She needs you?

Wednesday Addams doesn't need anyone, much less me of all people. I’ve been trying to avoid her like the plague ever since she threw her knife at me that one time, but now it feels like things have changed between us.

Not only was she as surprised as I was about my getting physically hurt, but she didn’t ask about it either. For once, she didn’t let her curiosity get the better of her, and I have no idea why. 

I’ve also come to the inevitable conclusion that no matter what I do, no matter if I stay away from her and keep my secret, or if she somehow finds out about what I am after all, she’s in danger and that thought makes my chest constrict. 

Not because we’re friends, because frankly we’re anything but that, but because even though this is Wednesday we’re talking about, I can’t in good conscience just stand by and watch her get hurt. It’s just like how I couldn’t stand by and watch her get crushed by that gargoyle on her first day. 

I’m in this whole murder-mystery mess as much as she is. And I know with my powers and my seemingly once again restored invulnerability, I’ll be able to make sure she doesn’t get hurt trying to find the answers to all her questions. 

That is if she even still wants my help, since every time she’s indirectly asked for it until now, I turned her down.

And then there’s this whole thing about the book being gone…

My door flying open makes me flinch and drop my necklace, and I’m quick to get up and pick it up again, balling it up in my fist before looking at whoever just barged in.

To no one's surprise, it’s Enid. And she looks like she’s been crying.

“I can’t believe I actually believed him,” she says, wiping her cheeks while pacing in front of my bed. “Stupid, stupid, stupid me.”

I’m betting this has something to do with Ajax because who else could she be referring to, but the moment she burst into my room, her emotions hit me like a tidal wave, and I’m already drowning in my own thoughts.

“I really thought he’d show up. I mean, he was dropping all these hints and–”

“Enid!” 

She shuts up immediately and stares at me wide-eyed. I’ve never snapped at her. Not like this. But my hands are literally trembling with emotion, hers and my own.

I can’t do this. 

The monster, the murder, the book…

I exhale shakily and close my eyes, backing up until my legs hit the window seat. I sink down on it and bury my face in my hands, feeling the pendant press against my cheek since I’m still holding onto it.

“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling guilty for snapping at her. I fight back the burning feeling of tears in the back of my throat. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“No.” I hear Enid sniffle and then she’s sitting next to me, resting a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly, “I shouldn’t have burst in here like that. Are you… are you okay?”

My heart aches at the worry in her voice, her own problems seemingly forgotten for the time being. 

I want to say I’m fine, apologize again for snapping at her, but for the first time in a long time, I just can’t because I’m not fine, so I shake my head.

“No, I’m not, Enid,” I admit, and the weight of that confession is what finally makes the first tear roll down my face when I lower my hands and open my eyes. 

‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆ ⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧

Hiya! Just wanted to pop in and thank everyone for reading, liking, commenting, and reblogging. Your engagement means the world to me and keeps me motivated <3

Anyway, hope you guys liked this part. Also if there are any typos, I’m sorry. I sometimes don’t catch them all when I proofread.

Tag list: @sunshinez4 @protozoario @automaticpatroltragedy @mamas-evil-hag @theallseer97 @hellenheaven @iwshemj2 @jizzuo308 @trashcannotbealive @gloriousvariant

[followthebluebell]

I feel dumb for realizing it but it's ok for dogs to have kitty gogurts?? I just.... sort of assumed that since cat food is made specifically for cats and dog for dogs, that even treats shouldn't be mixed up. But on deeper thought, like, a once in a blue moon a treat should be ok?? Does this mean I can give my kitties some of those puppy ice creams??

As a rare treat, they're absolutely fine. There's nothing in a cat gogurt that dogs CAN'T have--- I used them to get Truffle used to grooming equipment and nail trim stuff when he was a puppy. They're a SUPER high value treat that I used very sparingly when I absolutely needed to get his attention. Worst thing that ever happened to him was a little bad poop if he ate too much because his digestive system wasn't used to it. But honestly, a little bad poop was a small price to pay for a dog who's very comfortable with clippers.

But this doesn't always work the other way around. Dogs generally have a higher tolerance of dairy products than cats do, so pup cups and other doggie ice creams usually don't agree as well with kitties. It's also a question of amounts. Cats are (usually) a lot smaller than dogs, so their tolerance for these things is more sensitive.

so you gotta use your best judgment when looking at cross species treats. Cat treats tend to be higher in protein and oils, for example, so a dog prone to pancreatitis should be more cautious.

[buttstothemoon]

You wrote a lot about businesses where a profit can be made by customers covering the complete cost to produce the product. The costs may be hidden in the sense that they're not itemized but, crucially, they are actually still being covered by the consumer. This is not the case with AI. Any AI. None of them. Not one. Ever.

XBOX pulls a profit, for example. So it's really not clear to me why you perceive any disagreement between us. I agree there are plenty of businesses which rely on datacenters, and the product that they create is paid for fully by its customers. And I agree that the true cost of AI is currently being obfuscated through a combination of volunteers and investor slush funds.

I also continue to agree that, if AI users had to pay for the full cost of the products they use, as is the case with a days shoot for a commercial, it becomes far less cost competitive. This is precisely the point! The ability of AI is not viable at its current cost. Hence the need for subsidization in order for it to have any market penetration at all.

I would also ask that you not play naive and pretend that we would need exactly the same number of data centers regardless of whether we have AI or not. This is absolutely not the case. We should both be able to agree, in an honest and fair conversation, that the massive increase in demand for data centers, to the point that private companies are now earnestly looking into building their own nuclear reactors, is driven almost wholly due to the development and extraordinarily high computational demands required of modern AI.

"So solemnly nodding at the hidden costs seems a bit like 'my shit is stuff, your stuff is shit' to me."

I really want to emphasize how I think there is a dishonesty in this statement. All I am pointing out is that, if required to pay fair value for AI as a tool to render background art, as we might for background artists in animation, the financial advantage of using AI at all disappears. You might agree or disagree with that statement. But I would hope, at the very least, that you would be able to agree with the fact that, thorough volunteers and billionaire backing, AI has an artificial competitive advantage.

You can't argue against a technology. No one has ever, ever, in the history of humanity, argued a technology out of existence. The closest we've come are nukes and human genetic engineering. Nukes exist and multiple countries have massive arsenals of them, but we've agreed not to use them because it would mean humanity's utter destruction. Human genetic engineering cuts right to the heart of a bunch of ethical questions about health, equality, identity, and so on, and also up until very recently genetic engineering has been a long and extremely expensive process. We'll see how long human genetic engineering remains taboo now that it's getting cheaper and easier. But these are absolute outliers. In the vast, vast majority of cases, I mean literally in virtually every single case, when people fight a new technology—for any reason—they loose.

There is no tenable "anti-AI art" position, just like there was never a tenable anti-loom position, or anti-railroad position, or anti-horseless carriage position. These things were doomed to fail absolutely from day one, as soon as the technology existed, and anti-AI art is doomed to fail just as utterly and completely. There is just no path here, if this is what you've hitched your wagon to I really do not know what to tell you.

[420days]

BE MY GIRL? | JEY USO

It’s been a while & I’m a little rusty so excuse any errors or mistakes…

“I want to be down

With what you're going through

I want to be down (down)

I want to be down with you (down with you)

No matter the time of day or night

It's true, I want to be down”

Brianna sung in the mirror as she moisturized her hair. She just finished her full self care shower which consisted of exfoliating, shaving, and doing her skin care. Once she moisturized her skin, she got dressed in her matching red pajama set and began working on her hair.

Kenya convinced her to let her do a sew in on her hair and she was in love with it. She was used to wearing wigs but the sew in was giving her a more natural and youthful look. She used the roller brush and tried her best to blow out her bundles like Kenya showed her until she was satisfied with the look.

As time passed she looked over at the clock and saw it was 7:10. She didn’t want to be that girl but she was waiting for Jey to call her. She ran into him in the gym earlier and he asked for her number. As much as it threw her off, she agreed and became excited when he said he would call her after practice.

As if he could sense her thinking about him, an unknown number flashed about her screen. Nervous, she let it ring a couple times before answering the phone.

"Hello." She spoke softly.

"Hey love, how’s your day been?" His deep voice spoke making her feel a little tangly inside. She couldn’t tell if his voice was deep because he was possibly sleeping or because they were on the phone but she loved it.

“Nothing much, finished up some homework, got something to eat, and did some self care stuff. Did you have a long day? I didn’t think you were going to really call me.” She told him and he instantly felt bad.

He really planned on calling her sooner but as soon as his body hit the bed in his dorm he was out a lot longer than he thought he would be. The first thing on his mind when he woke up was Brianna.

“My bad love. I was definitely going to call you sooner but practice ran until six and as soon as I got out the shower I took a long ass nap.” He explained to her.

“Thats okay, I can only imagine how hard practice was. I know I’m always tired after practice especially when I have homework.”

“That’s what you were doing when I called?” He asked her.

“No, I was doing my hair.” She shook her head as she laid against her baby pink pillows and crossed one leg over the other.

“What you do to it? I know it looks good.” He complimented her. One thing he enjoyed about Brianna was she always looked well put together. Her toes and nails were always freshly done in white polish or french tips. He could stare at her pink lips that were always moisturized or covered in clear gloss all day if he could.

“I washed it and I was going to put some flex rollers in them but I don’t have anywhere to go so I might leave it as is.” She shrugged her shoulders and looked down at her nails.

“You should let me take you out.”

“Why do you wanna take me out?” She giggled into the phone when he sucked his teeth at her.

“Man, cause I’m feeling your pretty self. I like the energy you bring and I want to know more about you.” He told her.

“You’re so sweet. You asking me on a date?" She asked playing with the ends of her hair, twirling it around her fingers.

"Yeah, Brianna." He nodded his head as if she could see him.

"Wait, you have a game on Thursday, right?”

"Yeah why?" He asked.

"If you win your game on Thursday then you can take me out on Friday. How does that sound?” She smiled into the phone. If there was one thing her mother taught her it was to never give a man too much lean-way.

"Bet, so make sure your schedule is cleared cause ima’ have something planned for us.” He told her while trying to keep his composure.

“I just ask one thing of you.”

"And what's that?" She asked him.

"You gotta come to the game and watch me play. I want you to see for yourself how well I do when I’m challenged.”

"Mmh, that works for me. I’ll see you there.”

-

2 Days Later

“It’s so nice in here. You have good taste.” Brianna smiled at Jey as he held her hand and led her into the restaurant he picked out got them. He knew he was going to win the game so her set plans in motion as soon as he got off the phone with Brianna.

“Thank you.” I said as he held the door of the restaurant open for me.

“You’re good.” He spoke as we walked hand and hand over to were the severs were. He told them he had a reservation under his last name before we were brought over to a table.

“You did really good job tonight.” Brianna smiled as she sat across from him and took a look at the menu.

“I appreciate it. Did you enjoy the game?” He asked and she nodded her head. It was her first time attending a basketball game at the college and it was a lot funner than she thought it would be.

“How’s volleyball going?” He asked after the two put in their orders with the waiter.

“It’s really good actually! I’m getting along with the girls pretty well and we keep winning games so I can’t complain.”

“That’s what’s up. Do you plan on playing long term?” He asked wanting to know more about her long term goals.

“Not necessarily , it’s something I like to do for fun but not something I want to do forever. I want to be a physical therapist or personal trainer. She explained to him.

“That’s what’s up. I wouldn’t have expected that from you but I fuck with it.” He nodded his head.

“What do you want to do? Basketball?” She asked him the same question.

“Nah, not really. I mean it’s cool and everything but I’m still trying to figure it out.” He shrugged his shoulders at her.

“You have time to figure it out but you’re really good at it and I know you can go far.”

“I appreciate it love.”

They talked for a little while longer about any and everything but most of their time was spent with Jey making her laugh. She found his to be extremely funny and he enjoyed being able to make her laugh.

“Oh, I don’t think we ordered this.” Brianna spoke as the waiter sat a dessert down in front of her.

The waiter just smiled at her cluelessness before walking off to another table. Josh watched her look down at the writing on the plate before looking back up at him.

“You want me to be your girlfriend?” She asked him.

“Yeah, I know it hasn’t been that long, but I know what I want, and I never been the type to not act on what I want.” He spoke truthfully.

“Okay, I’ll be your girlfriend.” She nodded her head and smiled up at him. There was an overwhelming amount of emotions consuming her but everything felt right in the moment.

“It’s good?” He motioned towards the mini cheesecake as he pulled out his card to pay the bill and tip the waiter.

“Mmh, it’s my favorite even though I’m not supposed to be eating this.” She nodded her head.

“Why not?” He frowned.

“Because, I have to stay in shape. I’ve been slacking in the gym too.”

“Shit, I can’t tell.” He mumbled loud enough for her to hear as his eyes glanced over her body. Her face instantly turned red as she tried to hide the smile on her face but of course she couldn’t.

She was dressed in a pair of fitted jeans that showed off her long legs, a hot pink shirt that laced in the front showing a tiny bit of cleavage, and, sandals that showed off her bubble bath pink toes.

Kenya convinced her to step out her comfort zone and put on something a little different than what she would usually wear. Everyone knew Bri could dress but she never had to do or show too much to get that point across.

“Well, thank you but you’re an athlete so you know how it feels when your body isn’t on track with you. I’m new on the team so I have to be on point and show them how good I am.” She explained and Josh nodded his head.

“Nah, I feel you. I might have to come through and see you compete. See if you’re as good as you say.”

“I’m definitely as good as I say but you can see for yourself if you want.” She shrugged her shoulders.

@bebesobrielo @trentybenty @amandairene88 @kiki1704 @paigereeder @uceyliyahh @skyesthebomb @cyberdejos2 @chloeijuana

[technicallyastar]

Can I please have some Elliot crumbs..(starving anon here..🥹🥹)

Maybe an Elliot x kitsune!reader who's very shy to anyone,but really optimistic with Elliot when they are alone? (I need some fluff in my life ougghgh I love that pizza boy so much 🥹🥹🥹🥹)-🍰🍖

Elliot Relationship Headcanons

I'm sorry cake anon I didn't do the kitsune part but I humbly offer Elliot Relationship HC

Thee Golden retriever boyfriend

Has a t-shirt tan from all his time outside. He's very rosey, too. Isn't that blush adorable?

His preferred Love Languages to give are Acts of Service and Quality Time. To receive, he likes Words of Affirmation and Quality Time. In short, he wants to spend as much time with his loved ones as he possibly can. He doesn’t need you to do things for him because he’s used to taking care of himself and others, but he does like to receive sweet words (verbal or text) so he knows how much you love and value him! (Good Morning, Afternoon, and Good night texts will be a staple in your relationship)

He’s a bit of a goofball! He’s busy enough that it doesn’t come out for most people he takes orders from or delivers too, but he does enjoy a good, silly time as long as it isn't deleterious (cough cough 007n7 cough cOOLkidd cough). He gets along well with Chance and Shedletsky, for those reasons.

When you’re in a relationship with Elliot, his true sillyguy nature reveals itself. Like, if he ever catches you dancing like a loon to music and chores, he’s immediately joining in. If you initiate a prank war, he’s very likely to reciprocate. (But only if it’s the harmless stuff.) Cooking with him? He’s gonna dollop something on your nose. If you have any non-verbal stims or ticks, he likes to playfully copy them.

he enjoys watching movies with you and will 100% cry at the sad and heartwarming stuff whenever he has free time or a day off, as rare as they are. He doesn’t love horror movies, but romcoms and animated flicks are good. During the Holidays he has those awful Hallmark movies playing constantly.

He enjoys outdoor activities! If you don’t he can generally get his fill from doing his deliveries and walks, but he’d really enjoy it if you wanted to go hiking or camping sometime. In the winter, he enjoys building snowmen and snowball fights.

NSFW (Minors DNI)

It may surprise some of you, but he’s more of a top! (A very gentle top.) But he’s quite shy, and nervous about making unwanted advances, so he always waits for your invitation first. He likes when you whisper flirty little lines to him as a signal that you’re in the mood, or send him a text with a time and place for a sneaky tryst. It never fails to put a sweet smile and adorable blush on his cheeks

Before, and even for a good while into your relationship, Elliot is more likely to scurry off to take care of any arousal by himself than he is to agree to sex. It’s nothing against you, honestly, he just needs time to build up the courage to see you naked without passing out. The good news: he unintentionally edges himself a lot because he gets so distracted thinking of you, so by the time you do get involved sexually he’s already built up some decent endurance.

He’ll give you oral if you ask, but he prefers to use his hands on you so he can kiss you at the same time. If you give him oral, he unravels quickly. It’s the one thing he never gets much better at lasting through.

Elliot likes to indulge in a romantic atmosphere and is especially fond of soft candlelight and rose petals. Intimacy is a precious commodity with Elliots schedule, and he wants to foster it. If you ever get ahold of a private hot spring or a nice, big bath with some wine, consider him seduced.

-He’s not very loud during the act, but he sighs sweetly and whimpers. It’s very common for him to whisper an “I love you” during or right after he finishes. When he comes, his arms shake something terrible, so he usually ends up laying right on top of you instead of holding himself up properly. He doesn’t weigh too much, thankfully, and it’s a great opportunity to cling to him. He also really doesn’t want to pull out after. Can’t he just stay like this while and enjoy the afterglow?

Cockwarm that workaholic

[criminalyapping]

due for trouble | the world turned upside down

the pitt masterlist main masterlist

pairing: jack abbot x f!reader

a/n: hamilton reference? in my fanfiiction? more likely than u think... thank u for reading!!

warnings: age gap (reader is implied mid-20's, jack late 40's early 50's), language, unplanned pregnancy, discussions of abortion (not explicit)

<< part 1 < part 2

Jack Abbot is going to be the death of you.

You've been trying, deperately trying, to initiate a very intimidating conversation with him about how you're pregnant with his child, but you haven't been able to. Not the last three times you saw him.

You were, to put it lightly, fucking like rabbits. Between your normal work schedule and his night shifts, there is about an hour that you're both free on a typical day. Now, Jack never makes it feel like he's only interested in you for sex, but just by necessity, it's kind of bing-bang-boom, thank you, I have to go to work when you see him. The night you met him and began your rendezvouz was a fluke, you have found out. A night off for him and a weekend for you.

Luckily (or maybe unluckily) there is another one of these special nights coming up. Jack has been waxing poetic about being able to take his time with you, have you spend the night, make breakfast, all of those things. All while you grin with the knowledge that that night will not go at all like he's expecting before you're gently ushered out the door so he can leave for work.

This lovely Friday night comes a lot faster than you've wanted, and you're in front of his door realizing that maybe you should have come up with a game plan for this conversation, but didn't. You knock on his door anyway.

You can hear his footsteps getting closer and closer to the door, the lock turning and about to open. You get closer and closer to turning around and running down the street.

Jack opens the door with a smile.

"Hey, kid," he greets, opening the door wide enough for you to step in.

"Oh my god, I'm pregnant," you blurt, the words falling out of your mouth before your brain has even realized you've said them.

"Jesus fucking christ," Jack grits out, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you into his entry.

He shuts the door loudly behind you.

"What?" he asks, looking stupefied.

You wave your arms around, letting your eyes flicker around the room.

"I don't know another explaination to give you!" you yell.

"Okay." Jack says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, okay, okay okayokay," he mumbles to himself. He grabs you by the shoulders and steers you into his living room, urging you to sit down on the couch. Jack is standing in front of you with his hands on his hips.

"Okay, you're pregnant." he says.

"Yup." you agree. "Also, sit the fuck down. You're not scolding me."

"Yes ma'am." he agrees sarcastically, but still moves to sit next to you on the couch.

"So," he starts, letting out a long, deep breath, "what makes you say that?" he asks.

"Well, I took a pregnancy test, a-" you get cut off.

"How many?" he asks.

"One." you tell him.

"There can be false positives, let's do another." he quickly says, immediately standing up.

"Not to mention," you gripe, pulling him back down to the couch, "that my period is about 3 weeks late, my tits have grown a full cup size and hurt so bad, and my skin is the worst its been since I was 14."

"Other stuff can do that, come on, up, let's go." Jack orders, now pulling you up from the couch.

"Got it, got it," you acquiesce, standing up and returning to the front door.

"When was the positive test?" he asks while pulling on his shoes.

"Hey, can you stop talking like a doctor to me and talk to me like Jack?" you say, raising your voice out of frustration.

Jack takes another deep breath, closing his eyes. His hands find your shoulders, and he slowly leans forward to plant a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Let's go do another one, I'm serious about false positives, and then we can go from there. Okay?" he proposes.

"Fine," you agree.

An hour later, Jack is staring at another positve pregnancy test on his bathroom counter while taking a long sip from his beer. You've been staring at it in silence for 30 whole seconds. Time to diffuse the situation with humor, your favorite passtime.

"Hold on," you mumble opening your phone, "I need to sing Hamilton about this really quick,"

Jack laughs, grabbing your phone away from you and pulling you into a hug.

"No you don't, please," he says through his chuckle.

You giggle against his shoulder and let him rock you back and forth softly.

"The world turned upside down..." you sing softly, pulling another laugh from him.

"Alright, that's enough outta you," Jack says, picking you up and walking back towards his living room, accompanied by the loud, boisterous laughs you're shaking with. Mission accomplished.

"Soooooooooo," you start, looking at Jack. He just raises his eyebrows at you. "What now?" you ask.

He gives you an incredulous look, "I don't know?" he says.

"You're the doctor!" you shake your head in disbelief.

"Oh, so now you want me to talk like a doctor?" he asks sarcasically. "Lay down," he orders. You humor him and lay long ways on his couch as he stands up.

"Okay, miss, so you're presenting with a positive pregnancy test, correct?" he asks with faux seriousness.

"Yes," you agree.

"What is the last day of your last period?" he asks.

"Let me check," you murmur, pulling out your phone, "Uh, April 17th," you tell him.

Jack lets out a whistle.

"Okay, that puts you at," he starts, opening the calendar on his phone, "about 8 weeks, then." he says.

"Seeing as I've just opened this in-home clinic," he jokes, "I don't have an ultrasound machine at the ready, nor can I do a blood test. Why don't you tell me about your symptoms?" he prompts.

"Well, I feel about halfway to throwing up all the time," you start, "my boobs hurt, I get really light-headed sometimes, my skin is really bad, and I absolutely cannot stand the smell of a sink or towels anymore."

"Interesting, I haven't heard that last one before," he comments, "what does a sink smell like?" he asks.

"I'm gonna barf thinking about it, move on please," you request.

"Moving on," he agrees, "Now, ma'am, what birth control methods have you been using?" he asks.

"Jack, you know this," you sigh.

"Ma'am I have no idea about your proclivities in the bedroom, I am just a doctor," he retorts.

"Fine," you gripe, "I've been using condoms," you tell him even though he already knows.

"With all of your sexual partners?" he asks. You quiet for a moment, before taking a deep breath. You realize that while this doctor moment may have started silly, perhaps the clinical disconnection is allowing him to ask the questions he needs answered. You would be lying if you said that you weren't expecting a question like this, but it doesn't make it hurt you any less.

"Yes; there's only one." you tell him.

"Only one?" he clarifies.

"Yep." you repeat.

Jack clears his throat. "Okay, well then one of them must have failed. About 8 weeks ago." he says.

"Um," you start, "how does that happen, exactly?" you ask.

"Well, if they're very old, and maybe found at the back of the cabinet under the bathroom sink and was used without checking the expiration date, that could have caused it," he reveals with a guilty look.

You chuckle, "I knew it was your fault," you say gently, looking up at him.

He clears his throat again.

"Now, ma'am, would you like to discuss your options for moving forward?" he asks.

"Yes, but I'd like to talk to you about them, Jack, not doctor Jack," you request, tugging lightly at his pants to get his attention."

"Okay," Jack agrees, pulling your head up and sitting down on the couch, your head now in his lap as he looks down at you.

"Sorry, honey," he apologizes, leaning down to rest his forehead on yours, "I should have checked."

"It's okay," you accept, "hindsight is 20/20," you whisper.

"I'm sorry you're feeling so bad," he says genuinely.

"I'll survive," you joke. "What do you want to do, Jack?" you ask him.

"I think it's more about what you want to do," he replies.

"Ooo, that's where you're wrong," you tell him, "I think this has a lot to do with you. I don't want to be a single mom," you express, "but if I had a supportive and present baby daddy, then I think this might be fun." you reveal.

"Fun?" he clarifies, "we're talking about a baby here, not a game of checkers,"

"Old man," you laugh, "okay, maybe fun was the wrong word. But, I think it could be exciting, and wonderful, and maybe exactly what I want, could be." you emphasize. "But I'm not asking you to do anything you don't want to." you tell him.

Jack is silent, staring down at you in his lap.

"Okay," you say after a few moments, "how about you think about it? I don't want you to say anything you don't mean and end up regretting your choice." you tell him.

"I'm more worried about you regretting your choice." he argues.

"Well, the only way that would happen is if you say you'll do something and then don't, but I don't think that's the kind of guy you are." you smile.

"You haven't known me that long," he argues.

"Are you priming me so that I'll have your baby and then you'll fuck off and say that I should've known?" you ask him.

"No! Absolutely not!" he says, affronted.

"Then we're fine, Jack." you say, frustrated. "What are you thinking?" you ask him again.

"I'm thinking," he starts, slowly, "that I'll tell you that of course I'll be there, and I will, and then you'll end up regretting tying yourself to me like this." he reveals.

"Not gonna happen," you say, staring up at him earnestly.

"Okay, then." Jack says with a smile.

"Okay," you grin up at him.

[vestaclinicpod]

Audio Drama Sunday - 1st June ✨

God, the audio drama was good this week!!

🌲 @hellofromthehallowoods (192) Oh nooo, Shank 🥺 You were a murderous pig man, but you were my murderous pig man! It’s so sad to see all the fracture lines between characters really come out in this season. Johanna and Russell could have been such a game-changing friendship if she’d stayed loyal! But then, we know how the Wicker kids were raised and Shank killed her brother so there is an inevitability to her actions. Cole is SUCH an interesting character and such a good (imo) portrayal of someone in the police force who really doesn’t believe he’s perpetuating harm. It’s nothing new for me to say that I adore the writing in this show, but you just KNOW that he was thinking ‘what would Clem do’ when calling the Fiddle off to go find Danielle. It’s like he’s justifying the ‘reasonable force’ to achieve his goals. He’ll get Shelby with his centipede thing, but he won’t kill her. It’s so messed up!

🧳 Travelling Light @monstrousproductions (47) I think we should all be writing pamphlets entitled: My Truth And What Ought Be Done About It. Oh, yeah, totally, Traveller. Not telling someone how you feel because ‘it’s in their best interests’ is soooo noble. [Fond] Idiots. The pair of them are idiots.

🍎 @notquitedeadpod (XLVIII) Oh my GOD. I listened to this ep twice in order to really process my feelings about it all but I still couldn’t! Damn. I keep reflecting on the fact that when Neige was introduced, I was here every Sunday talking about how much I didn’t trust him. HA. I mean, we know he’s still keeping things from Alfie but Casper you [insert expletive that is probably too strong for Audio Drama Sunday]!!!!! I honestly think I really bought that he was a good guy and it was the secretive nature of the vampirism issue that was drawing Alfie away from family and society but GOD, all the signs were there that he was, as Leon so beautifully put it ‘manipulative and hateful in that specific kinda woe is me way’. GOD. Someone please drop the ep number of the scene in the woods because I need to relisten!

We also know that Casper thought of the vampires as dead (makes it easier to do fucked up experiments on them, I guess!) but what did he think of the children they ‘treated’??? Did he justify turning Alfie in this way? There’s also all this stuff about the different types of vampire and it potentially being something that was curable. Lads, I heard there’s a haematologist on the run to Paris. . . in case that’s something you want to investigate?? I sure hope Hayley doesn’t get bitten and need curing . . . that would be sooooo not wild and fun to listen too . . . I would hate to have them racing against the clock to save new vampire Hayley . . . . It’s going to be soooo juicy if Alfie has to decide whether to be cured or not. We already know how much he misses his family.

ALSO there was one sneaky line about how Alfie’s recordings are mainly hours of silence and how he’ll have to edit it down. Are we - ?? Are we listening from the end? It’s scary to think that there is an end point that we’re listening from and all this is stuff that happened, not stuff that’s happening. It’s really shifted my perspective on the recordings! Knowing NQD, there’ll be a whole lot more angst before we get to the end!

Also, hard agree with Alfie about nurses being school bullies vs the nicest people you’ve ever met, though, of course, the really awful ones go and become prison officers 🙃

🎃 Waiting For October by @monkeymanproductions (8.5) No spoilers as I’m not sure if this will have been released by the time I post! Such a lovely monologue and I’m choosing to interpret our feline friend as THE feline friend! I’ve loved this first season and I hope that the team have a restful break before coming back for season two!

🧋 @hinaypod (TYM 2) Eek! Mary-Ann! That’s my girl! I do hope we do get to meet her properly in the main narrative soon 👀

🔮 @spiritboxradio (1.37-1.39) UHOH who gave the repressed teenager the power to summon a hot florist???? Surely this is a power that will never be - oh, too late. I’ve been trying to carve out time this week to give the season finale the listening respect it deserves. So excited to listen next week when I have more time!

💍 @forgedbondspod (19) Oh Hermesssss! I’m so glad he has Hephaestus now to talk some sense into him. Unrequited love is an awful feeling (even if it is requited and you just have your head in your arse!). Dion/Apollo fwb is so funny to me and tbh I would also shoot my brother with an arrow to avoid discussing his sex life. Valid.

🥊 @killjamxxx (03 -05) Who’s doing the music? Give them a raise!! What an absolutely stunning set of eps! Bellamy and Faustina are such a fantastic pairing (for the audience lol). Desperation meets talent! What could go wrong! I love how innocent Faustina is for someone who kills people for an entertainment! She has morals! She has rules! She’s been groomed!! Also OBSESSED with Shankhill being a Responsible Dad. I love this show 😭

Have a great week! 💙

[bambisafe]

also, may I request a meet-cute w/ leon? he goes to a book store, record store, or whatever and reader so happens to work there. he thinks they're so pretty that he acts lost as to attract their attention (he's such a loser)

bumping into you at a bookstore

leon kennedy / gn!reader

warnings : reader is an employee, mentions of barnes & noble (i’ve never been, apologies for inaccuracies), american dollars, leon is bad at romance and extremely socially awkward (funny), leon tells one bad dad joke, hinted that leon craves something long-term.

word count : 805

author’s note : yes i did put leon in a henley. specifically black or gray. if any artists see this i encourage you to draw him in one. also picture any version of him you want.

leon didn’t get many days off but when he did it was often dull in comparison to his usually turbulent life. sitting and lazing around was not an option. he couldn’t sit still and mindlessly watch tv to pass time.

so on a whim, he decided to stop by non other than a barnes & noble.

was he a reader? casually, yes but definitely not enough to go out of his way to browse bookstores. most of his copies are old, well-loved, gifts from friends. but why not try something new?

the evening was chilly— enough for a long-sleeve and a hot drink. dark. storm clouds threatening possible rain overhead. the atmosphere for a good mystery novel was perfect.

stepping inside, leon is immediately hit with the smell of fresh paper and coffee. he takes a careful scan around. lots of choices, he notes mentally.

“welcome in!” a voice calls from his left and the blond is quick to find its source.

and to his pleasant surprise, he finds you, looking awful friendly in a wool sweater and a smile.

“can i help you find anything?” you wonder, rounding the front counter and making your way toward him.

he takes notice that you smell really nice. and— wow, you’re much prettier up close.

“uh, yeah, actually,” comes his steady timbre, hands stuffed in his pockets, henley stretching deliciously across his broad chest. “i was hoping you could lead me toward the mystery, or thriller, section?”

you beam at that, pretty smile widening, displaying teeth. “absolutely. this way.”

waving a hand in a silent follow me gesture, leon follows you to the back where a wide selection of mystery and thriller novels sat, spanning from short books to long slow-burns.

“personally, i recommend this one if you’re into classics,” you grin, having plucked a copy of agatha christie’s murder on the orient express. “it’s a classic for a reason! snowy terrain, trapped-whodunit vibes. i think you’d like it.”

you’re rambling. and it’s precious.

the usual blank expression on his pretty face lightens up as the corner of his mouth rises in a very subtle half-smile. your spirit is refreshing.

“and if you’re into seasonal stuff, i’ve got halloween and christmas themed stuff. too.”

-

leon hadn’t even realized it until he glanced down at the bulky watch on his wrist but he stood in that mystery section talking to you for twenty minutes. not that he was complaining, but time sure does fly.

you’re already ringing him up by the time his hands touch the counter, gaze unmoving, watching you like a hawk.

“aaand that’ll be $45.19,” you beam, hands clasped in front of you.

he tilts his head, unimpressed. “you’re tellin’ me i gotta pay for all this?”

you quickly catch on to the joke, albeit the very bad joke, and chuckle warmly, like marshmallows melting over hot chocolate.

“unfortunately, yeah,” you nod, clicking your tongue. “good thing they’re worth the price.” you gesture to his newly purchased books, one of which was the christie novel you recommended.

“guess so,” leon agrees with faux reluctance, digging a leather wallet from his back pocket and pulling out a debit card that’d definitely seen better days.

after his transaction went through and you slid his bagged books over along with a receipt, leon found himself lingering by the counter, not yet wanting to leave. despite only knowing you for thirty minutes max— he doesn’t even know your name yet —he wasn’t ready to leave. to possibly say goodbye forever.

“listen—“ he glanced at your name tag, spoke it aloud before his eyes found your face. “this isn’t something i’d usually do, and i know we barely know each other, but…”

leon pauses, runs the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip. “i like you,” for someone who’s usually so confident on the field, he’s rather shy in the presence of someone so pretty.

“think i could get your number?” as soon as the question leaves his mouth, he feels the tips of his ears turn pink, quick to wave a hand. “you don’t have to—“

“i want to,” you butt in, eyes warm, welcoming. shimmering. filled with just the right about of domesticity he secretly longs for.

picking up a stray pen, you scrawl your number down and hand over a yellow sticky note.

“let me know it’s you—“ you trail off, realizing very suddenly that you don’t even know this man’s name.

“uh, leon,” he’s absolutely red in the ears now. “i’ll let you know,” he takes the slip of paper, fiddles with it. “i’ll text you?”

you nod, looking rather flushed yourself, but smiling all the while. “yeah. later tonight.”

phew, that worked out.

“alright, i’ll…” he picks his new purchase off the counter, backpedals one step. “see you ‘round.”

you do see him ‘round.

[hayanwulf]

Prompt: Human Tony wants Vampire Stephen to drink his blood but Stephen very gently says it tastes weird so Tony is forced to eat healthy and have a healthy sleep schedule and he’s grumpy about it but his desire to get sucked (not like that) is stronger

“Come on,” Tony urged again, wrapping his hands around Stephen’s shoulders from where he sat on his partner’s lap, unapologetically blocking Stephen’s access to the book he’d been reading. “How can you resist an entire grown human, wrapped around you and willing?”

He knew Stephen had an extraordinary self-control, but god damn, was it frustrating when he wanted Stephen to drink from him.

“You’re not a snack, Tony.”

“No,” Tony agreed, placing a hand under Stephen’s chin to encourage him to look up and leaned closer. “I’m a full-course meal.”

That earned him a smile of amusement. Stephen closed the rest of the distance, capturing Tony’s lips for a gentle kiss. When the kiss ended, he leaned away to look into Tony’s eyes, cupping his face with a trembling hand. “Are you sure?”

“ ‘Course I am. Wouldn’t have insisted if I wasn’t.” Tony left a peck on the tip of his nose. “I trust you.”

There was hesitance in those blue eyes, but also a certain tenderness, like Stephen couldn’t believe Tony would trust him — so fully and intimately — with his life.

Tony trusted Stephen with the entire world.

“Alright,” Stephen said, and leaned in, this time towards his neck. Tony closed his eyes as he felt the brush of gentle lips on his jugular, inhaling slowly.

Fangs dipped into his skin, sending a sharp pang through his nerves, but the pain was gone as soon as it had come, quickly replaced by a feeling of light-headedness, like he was floating in the clouds. And then came the weird feeling of pleasure and intoxication that could only come from vampire bites.

“Ah,” he moaned softly, going boneless in Stephen’s embrace who held him oh-so-gently, and he felt the safest he had in a long time, here, wrapped up in the love and careful arms of his lover, completely at his mercy.

It didn’t last nearly as long as he’d wanted. Soon, he felt Stephen withdraw his fangs and lick the wound close. He left another kiss on the spot and then simply held Tony through his intoxicated state, not that that lasted much longer either.

“Let’s.. not make a habit out of that,” Stephen murmured.

“Why not?” Tony turned a little to look at Stephen where he’d buried his face into the crook of Tony’s neck. “You’re not exactly enthusiastic about those bags of cold preserved stuff. You can drink from me sometimes, instead.”

He felt a soft breath of sigh against his neck, and then Stephen leaned away, eyes decidedly looking away. “Tony, you blood tastes..”

Tony blinked, tensing up a little. “It tastes..”

Stephen pursed his lips, still not looking at Tony. “..different. A little bitter.”

Tony was silent for a moment, jaw half hung in the air, unsure how to even respond to that. “I— my blood tastes.. bitter?”

His voice must have come out more wounded than he’d intended, because Stephen winced a little. “I said a little bitter.” He finally looked up at Tony, eyes apologetic. “It mostly just tastes.. well, very different from what it’s supposed to. One’s lifestyle greatly affects their blood quality, Tony.”

Tony’s shoulders fell visibly. “Oh.”

Stephen hummed, silently wrapping an arm around Tony’s back, the other hand entwining with Tony’s. It was a lot more tact that Stephen usually spared, and Tony wondered how much worse his blood had actually tasted than what Stephen was letting on.

He looked down at their joint hands. “So what, if eat salads, quit caffeine, start yoga.. that’ll improve my blood quality?”

“Well it doesn’t have to be yoga,” Stephen replied, idly caressing Tony’s fingers. “You could join me on morning walks. Vitamin D is good for your health.” He looked up at Tony, expression a little reprimanding. “As is 8 hours sleep a day.”

Tony huffed, grumbling under his breath. “Fine. But only if you stay with me in bed too.”

Stephen slightly quirked an eyebrow, like he had doubts that Tony could actually go through with it all. “Sure,” he drawled.

And, really, now Tony needed to prove him wrong.

[fandom-sillies-galore]

it's incredible how much discourse there is with proship and antiship stuff.

personally, i am proship and com/darkship because of a slew of reasons, but heres the main ones:

anyone should be able to ship/consume whatever media they want as long as it isnt hurting anyone in the process

anyone who is consuming that content for sexual gratification, but specifically if youre a paraphile and consuming that content, you should be no-contact. period.

i dont think its okay to harass people over what they ship or for just agreeing with proship ideals, no one should be harassed for what they believe, even if you think its stupid

people should be able to consume dark content because it can be very therapeutic to those who have experienced it, it can help heal them, and for those who it would trigger due to trauma or other related issues, i dont know any proshippers who dont tag properly and add TW's to everything

the whole debate on whether fiction effects reality is so important. fiction does effect reality for many, mostly those with certain mental illnesses, children, and those susceptible to manipulation, but for any adult who can critically think and analyze the content they are consuming, then they should be able to understand that its not real and doing those things in real life would have severe consequences and you shouldn't do them

this is a little unrelated, but antis who call proshippers pedos on no basis but the fact that theyre a proshipper are gross. you cannot just call someone a pedo without proof, and being a proshipper doesn't mean youre a pedo.

side note: @ me if you need help defending yourself to antis, i love arguing and i have a lot of free time in my future

harass me if you want, but if you're gonna do it on anon make sure you come off it and say what you want with your whole chest 🫶

[juliating]

Yes your honor I'm crazed about how Spamtons' body anatomy may look like/work😵‍💫

btw down below are a few hcs to satisfy my brainworms!! AND! I mayhaps have written a fic about them 2 SNEO pics here's the AO3 link

(summary: Spamton NEO and Reader fly trough the sky with a few discoveries anatomy wise of eachother, eating/sleeping togheter. posted both on ao3 and under read more)

Alright for starters a few hc!!

What if Spamton has to calibrate with what strength he touches/grabs/holds the reader? Compared to organic beings being rather squishy; nearly all things/ppl in the darkworld are made out of hard material n stuff! My hc is that these residents in cyber city are all mechanical beings.

So some are covered in a synthetic hide to look more viewable/protect their mechanisms or to avoid dirt in joints/airvents (due to spamton being "skinless" he needs to clean his joints in order to have fluid movement which gets neglected)

The only part which generates heat is the head, so the rest of the body is equal to the ambient temperature. Metal parts underneath could get warm but the outside plastic shell doesn't since that material is a bad heat transmitter.

Balljoints are twice secured so that they can't get easily disclocated. Given trough their build they have both hinge and ball joints in one -> black gasket can rotate/ full 360° articulation

Gray areas are made of a plastic-rubbery like texture, so when folding an arm in, upper body leaning down, bending legs etc. the said area gives in! The abdomen is just one big ol' balljoint

Imagine being able to fly on Spamton NEOs' back like on a Lunala flying trough an ultra wormhole!

NEOs' eyes are permanently open with his glasses embedded in his now skin-having face. So he has a small bump from the nose bridge still is under his skin. The most 'closed' he can do is dimming them.

Btw my NEO version has both mittens and mechanical arms/legs! They're hidden in the plush in default mode. Keep in mind that despite the soft plush, there's metal underneath. Meaning it would still hurt a LOT if he'd whack you with it. And I gave him airvents on his side similiar to gills (shhh secret Big Shot Salmonid reference)

Also I think once Spamton settles down/is in a better state he goes from janky/stiff motions to almost uncanny smooth movement after he's free of any unwanted particles inside his cavities/joints (example that one super expensive Avatar animatronic)

In my head SNEO, when excited or smth similiar, sometimes forgets his own strength. Like a previously hand-raised big animal if you know what I mean

Feel free to correct any grammatical errors since English isnt my first language.

1. (First idea was with the reader fixing a more mechanical part inside Spamton's chest cavity. But then later that day I saw something nearly identical so I changed it a bit. Man my heart was doing cartwheels out of fear of looking like a copycat!!☠️)-still in work 3. (still need a plan where that one might be going)

2. Sun-blighted sky

The slight breeze feels nice. Wonder if he can feel it too. At first you were a bit hesitant by the idea but then gave in. Spamton NEO suggested that you two go to soar trough the sunless skies of cyber city. With you being held safely in his mitten like hands. His thumbs are clamped around your shoulders for a good grip. Soft enough not to hurt yet still secure.

You once asked him why he won't use his actual arms, the ones who are hidden inside the plush exterior. At that he told you that those are more for combat. Huh. Wouldn't want to image getting sliced up by those vicious looking claws of his. Or get shot with his arm cannon. Not to mention the eye lazers.

The once green wires Spamton despised so much are now commanded by his will. All thanks to you. Only after him agreeing to not go after those who apparently wronged him. Due to the NEO suits' immense weight the strings withstand constant tension. Creaking and groaning. He needs to adjust his grip every now and then since the plush material does't have a good adhesion. After a while Spamton adjusts it yet again.

Goodness gracious how beautiful the magenta armor gleams around his body. Beside it being illuminated by the chest core, looking closer, you can also see the moving grids dancing along the edges in an almost hypnotizing manner.

This time you feel the scratchy fabric in the middle of your chest. Right where your heart is. You don't see it but his face twists into one of confusion or like he suddenly remembered something. Spamton presses one of his mittens onto your sternum. It seems like he's searching for something. You panic for a moment thinking he'd rip the last remaining soul shard out.

"Hey Spam-", he interrupts you before you could even finish his name.

"WHAT IS THAT??", each word ever changing from a shrill pitch to a low, dull tone.

You can literally feel the vibration in your body every time that boisterous voice of his reverberates. Kind of similiar to those big speakers blaring music near the ferris wheel.

The mitten is loosing it's grip a bit. Fearing he may drop you accidently, you grip one of them with both arms and legs. You really dont fancy being dropped from this height. This short ordeal causes adrenaline to kick in and an increased heartbeat. Spamton shakes you off into the other one whilst stopping mid flight.

Before you could latch onto the other arm again you feel yourself being lifted up rather harshly. Similiar how one would throw their arms out to catch a falling object. Tapping the faintly glowing triangle chestpiece doesn't seem to get his attention neither.

Yelling out his name makes him stop dead in his tracks. Before you know it he flips you onto your back in one hand. Spamton pressed the side of his head on your chest, or to say on a better therm, nearly entire body. Assuming the location of his 'ears' are the same with humans this feels similiar to a doctor pressing their stethoscope in order to listen to your heartbeat.

Truth to be told you never knew how his body even worked. Whether his puppet-machine like body nor the current 'armed to the teeth' NEO suit. But Spamton once told you that he hears a bit differently than organic beings. After lifting the each side of his artificial hair you've noticed that they're located on different heights. Imitating those of a birds'. These so called 'ears' are infact just audio frequency analyzers.

So that's what has been going trough his RAM then! Of course how should he know what a heartbeat is when all residents are non organic.

The hunk of hard plastic starts to feel quite warm. If his multiple pcbs inside his head are so hot already to the point the exterior heats up then why didn't his internal fans kick in already? With the NEO suit being in Queen's basement for long sure must've taken a toll on its' heat insulation hasn't it? Spamton should know this.

Maybe he surpresses the air circulation in order to hear more. Come thinking of it the NEO suit must have some sort of manual or something. It's probably saved digitally in his database.

He sees you staring off into the distance seemingly lost in thought. Don't humans have a maintenance check every now and then? Shifting the arms holding you a bit higher he finds the sound source.

Browsing trough the previously saved records he notices that your current frequency is too high for his liking. Or maybe he picked it up wrong. Pushing the other side of his head on your sternum he's gauging it again for safety.

Hmph, your heavy breathing doesn't make it any easier to register-wait, WAIT!! Normally he barely picks it up! Only when you're stressed or [[OW! STOP, IT BURNS]]!! Was he squeezing you too much?? Maybe it's the altitude? Gah what does he know how a [[LIGhT>NERS]] body functions.

He lets the wires, which sprout from his back and connect to the projected grids in the sky, decend you both to a less death-drop height.

Now you two are hovering right above Spamtons' old house in the trash zone. The grids' colour slowly began to change from neon green to a dimmed hue. Signaling the night. In the distance you can see some Addisons glow brighter to attract more customers.

"THIS.", as he began to speak once again, voicebox crackling with static and huge teeth clanking togheter the same tact as words get send out, "THAT THUMPING [[Comming on June 5th for only 24,99€]] FROM YOUR CHEST!! IT SOUNDS FASTER THAN USUAL. SOMETHING THE MATTER [[LIGhT>NER]]??"

During talking he squished your body between his mitten hands and head. Wanting to be closer to the source. It's such a soothing sound!! He pokes his thumbs onto your ribcage out of curiosity. Hearing you yelp at that makes him stop though.

Oh right, the sensation of being touched in non protected areas makes some humans squirm away or even laugh. Rather from pain signals than enjoyment. He recalls that from the time you once roughly explained your endoskel- err just skeleton you called it. It's still so strange to him that one wrong hit to your head could end your life.

Finally snapping out of your train of thought, "Uh-, well! I think you mean my heartbeat Spamton.", signaling him to move his head away to give your some room to breathe by tapping your fingers on his forehead. He looks you dead in the eyes. On his pupil-less lenses you can see your own reflection staring right back at you.

"HEARTBEAT AS IN HEARTATTACK? AH; WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SO THEN! YOU STILL DIDN'T ANSWER THE SECOND [[questions? ask your doctor or pharmacist]].", wanting an answer.

Aw man, you hope he doesnt interpret you being short therm startled from the suddenness from his action as a negative thing.

"Don't take this the wrong way but y'know being tossed around in the air like previously shook me up a bit. No harm done though. Also, a raised heartrate can have many factors meaning it isn't all from bad intent. I did enjoy the flight so far though!"

"RIGHT, APOLOGIES, [[want a free sample?]] HAPPEN AGAIN", not all from bad intent hm? He lifts you by the armpits again as if asking to continue the flight which you gladly accept. Rethinking he chooses to put you on his back between his head and strings.

You perch down carefully so that your body doesnt touch the wires too much. Legs bend and pressed to his sides with your hands holding onto his 'shoulders'. Well technically his wing mounts now since all of his limbs float near his body. The whole time the wires did all work work with the flying. His useless wings are mostly positioned horizontally rarely doing a flapping motion.

"SAY [[valued customer]], I DO HAVE A FEW OF MY OWN; [[three for the price of one!]] EVEN!!", anticipating your reaction. Head rotating 180 degrees to look at you for a bit, then turning back.

Wait does he mean one or three now? The ad interruption indicates three rather than one you realize. So three hearts it is huh. Like an octopus or squid. You decide to pry a bit to like he did to you beforehand.

"So are they synchronized in one single beat similiar to mine or out of sync?", hoping to get some details instead of a yes or no. Satisfied with your acknowledgment he fulfills the request. The flight speeds down a notch once more.

Show rather than tell it is. Spamton lets his arms slowly float up to where you sat. Moving his head to see you in his peripheral vision to avoid accidently knocking you off. Gently lifting you up again he maneuvers your body so that it's laying in his mitten hands. One supporting your torso, the other one letting your legs rest on.

Having you in a comfortable position, he brings you down to be eye level with the glowing triangle which sticks out of his chest. Without skewering you with it, his hands press you to the right side of it. The magenta armor the rest of your body has contact with is littered with dents and scratches which vary in sizes. Your hands reach around his body as far as they can. Trying your best to hug him.

While the thick, protective plates are getting slightly warmer from your body heat, his actual pitch black body is almost freezing to the touch. You can feel the slightest vibrations on his body from the fans keeping his processors from becomming too hot.

Inside the triangle mechanism you hear a faint whirring. It sounds akin to that of an old cd player. Must be that 'LoadedDisk' in which he uploaded his partly corrupted code back then. Leaning in closer you hear a short hum, as if a command gets processed, followed by three time-shifted clicks and pops. Whereas one resounded slower and duller than the rest. All the while he kept switching from looking straight ahead or down at you resting ever so peacefully in his arms.

"[[VALUED CUSTOMER SATISFACTION]]?", voice dripping with longed-for appreciation. Lifting you up until you're both eye to eye -or to say better eye to sensing camera. Awaiting an answer.

No matter how many times you've gotten the opportunity to gaze at Spamtons' eyes like this, it never stopped the feeling of intimidation creeping up from being directly stared at by this mighty being. Who wouldn't be, considering he's almost thrice your height now. Once the words '10/10 review' and 'would do again' came out of your mouth the colours on his eyes flickered back and forth with excitement. Grin growing wider.

He immediantly saves that sentence unbeknownst you in his memory to replay for later. Only you can give him the feeling of 'being at the top of the world' like this. Head raised with pride, he flies the rest of the route with a now non forced smile engraved on his face. Finally, finally the permanent up-turned mouthcorners portay his emotions correctly! He's positively giddy about this.

Subconsciously he starts swaying his hands, which pressed you against the now comfortale warm metal again, side to side. Unintentionally lulling you to sleep. Too caught up in his own world for him to notice.

As it was getting later you must've gotten quite hungry considering he can hear the acid chamber you call your stomach growl. Of course from spending your entire day with the now large, puppet-like salesman you haven't had the chance to eat anything.

"YOU WANT TO [[Wine n' Dine]]? I'LL DROP YOU OFF NEAR YOUR [[limited offer for cheap estatements]] COMPLETLY [[Free of charge!]]!!", asking while not looking down at you.

He waits for a response which never came. Puzzled that you didn't respond to his [[Genorisity]] nor him saying your actual name, which is already a rare occurence, he decides to spare you a glance. He moves you away from his chest and infront of his face once more. Only to find you limb with closed eyes and slightly agape mouth. So this must be the so called 'sleeping' you've mentioned a few times! An active sate of unconsciousness to recharge!!

Seems like he has to take matters into his own hands. Letting you continue sleeping, he hugs you to his still warm chestplates. Unoccupied arms winding around his body. He supports your body on his left mitten while the other one acts as a pillow. He spreads his fingers hiding inside the mitten to have a wider area available so that your legs stop dangling around. Your body sinks in a bit. This makes the hand your head rests on a suprisingly good silencer meaning not even his permanent yelling gets registered.

Ascending as high as the wires can lift him, he's navigating the ideal route. Upon finding it, he glides at the highest possible tempo the wires are able to carry him without disturbing you. Wings tucked close to his body, akin to a hawk, he dives down to the location. Moving wires making a sharp hissing sound, equal to that of a zip line ride. Still a miracle that you haven't woken up.

The speed making his pitch black hair blow back, loose strands fluttering wildly. Arriving at the destination, he settles down far enough to not alert any other Darkners living there. Letting the wires zip into his back cavity. Tapping your head; shaking you to wake you up.

You stirred, beginning to wake up. Urrghhh. Blinking a few times, your eyes adjust to the darkness. Finally being awake enough to think properly, you began to recognize the place you see. It's only a few minutes of walking to your living place! Weren't you just flying with Spamton?

Spamtons' bi-coloured glasses comming into view makes you flinch away and shield your eyes from the sudden brightness. He explains, as quietly as his voicebox allows, that you went into resting mode in his arms, so he flew you back near your home. Huh, resting mode? Curses, you didn't mean you fall asleep on him! Ah, maybe next time you can pull through without dozing off.

Feeling your stomach growl you decided to leave it for today. There's always a tomorrow. Hold on, he has got to be hungry too from all the flying and moving around. Do Darkners even need to eat or sleep in order to recharge? Well, even if he doesn't, a little kindness never hurt anyone! Expecially he needs that after all the stuff he has been trough in his life.

As far as you can recall you've never seen Spamton show any signs of tiredness nor exhaustion. More worn out from mental exhaustion and frustration. On top of that he stated that the NEO suit runs with an alternator, similiar to one of a car. Strange coincidence that he was working in the car industry before his downfall.

That's it! You're going to invite him to eat dinner with you! Hmm but you'll need to word it carefully so that he doesn't wave his hand in a dismissve 'nah don't need it' manner. Using his own tactics, how he wrapped customers around his jointed finger into buying his wares, you make him an '[[irresistable deal!!!]]' with no strings attached. Literally. Only the best learn from the best.

As if hearing your thoughts he begins to reject your offer. This time you interrupt him before he could emit the first word. A wee bit too stunned to speak from getting a taste of his own medicine, he lets the wires zip out to relink with the sky grid to blast off.

Before he could make a run for it you cling onto one of his legs. Even though clearly displeased, he gives in after several 'pretty pleases with sprinkles on top'. Oh, how he loathes being at the receiving end of hospitality even if it's from kindness rather than that behated pity of his. Corners of mouth drooping into a frown for a split second; then go back into the default smile. Forget it, he's not in the mood to banter around with that. This time he can overlook it. He'll even the deal out the first opportunity he gets.

Hovering closer to the ground, hooking your clothing scruff between his fingers, he snags you off of him and sets you down. You tell him to wait here until you're back with both of your meals. Not wanting to keep him waiting for too long you zoom to your living place. From all the hussle you haven't had any time to think about what he'd like to eat! 'Spaghetti Code' maybe? That's the only type of meal you've ever heard him mention briefly. Quickest thing would be ordering but your loan says no.

So instead of that you decide to do it yourself. Snatching multiple spaghetti packs, sauce cans and seasoning. Mentally weighting off how much you both will propably eat. Hopefully enough. Not even an hour later you're halfway finished filling up the food containers. You also bring your backbag with your laptop and seasoning incase he's preferring more. Swinging it on you take the first big container and march to him.

Upon hearing footsteps Spamton peeks around the corner of the abandoned warehouse he's sheltered in. It's you!!

"Here's the first delivery plus my laptop so that we can watch something while eating! There's still some left I'll go get the rest; you can start already if you want", you drop everything to where he's sitting, handing him the food before it cools out on the ground.

Before he can say something you're already bolting back home. Out of politeness he waits for you to come back so you can start eating together.

While waiting for your return he looks around. Busted mattresses littered everywhere. Getting up, he floats to them. He doesn't mind where and how he sits nor eats. But since you organic beings can get sick from being in the cold out for too long, he starts piling them up in a corner. Creating a makeshift bed/resting place. Balancing the food box on his floating head which stays perfectly still in place, grabbing your backbag so that they don't get dirty from him maneuvering the junk around.

Content with it he nestles in, surpresses his cooling, warming them up. He's laying on his chest, glass-triangle so sharp that it's tearing a sizeable hole into one of the mattresses. The aged filling leaving dirt stains on his [[Work-Out ready body]]!! Eurgh.

Spamton lifts his upper body. Roughly grabs and disgards the useless thing by throwing it across the warehouse room. Mattress hitting the worn wall with such brutish force that the thump echoes trough the entire building. Filling flying around like snowflakes before falling on the ground. Scowling at it, face red with anger and a twisted visage.

Borderline thinking about annihilating it with his arm cannon; he decides against it, not letting any anger get the best of him. Hypocritically speaking in the past, before NEO, he would've jumped out of joy having just one half of it. Hearing your footsteps again he picks the pieces from his head and puts them in one hand. Dimming his lights.

In the dark room the only thing one could make out, were his glasses and chest-triangle. His eyes don't light his face up that much but the triangle, even when dimmed, does. Teeth lit up from the bottom in an eerie manner. The rest of the body is shrouded in utter darkness. If someone else would walk in and see this, they'd probably die of fright on the spot.

Back once more, you carry the rest of the food. Spaghetti and sauce seperated. You were about to search for his whereabouts. Walking further into the building. The search didn't last long because he approched you from behind, without you noticing. You jumped what felt like five meters into the air as you felt a mitten-hand touching the top of your head. He can be surprisingly quiet if he wants to.

Turning around you see Spamton openly guffawing with a shit-eating grin. The same mitten petting the top of your head mockingly. "GEAHHEAHEAHEAHEA!!! NOT SO [[sales jumping up,up,up!]]!! LOOK, OVER THERE WE CAN EAT", pointing with his thumb into the room he came from. The dark room being illuminated by his eyes, chest-triangle and the holographic part of his wings.

Leading you to the corner you unzipped you backbag and set everything down in comfortable reach. Since you didn't know if Spamton is going to eat with cutlery or not, given how comically small they are in his mittens, you still got some for him. Whilst the laptop was booting up both of you took your own portion.

You sit down onto the mattress pile, plate in hand. They feel unexpectedly warm to the touch! Spamton must've been resting on them the whole time. One thing that had you do a double take though was a mattress, which looked like it got mauled and nearly torn in half, in the opposite side of the room. Filling scattered everywhere on ground and all. Huh. Wasn't like this before. Sideeying him, made him respond with a 'wasn't me!' look. Sureee.

Anyways! Once he got a portion, literally a whole box, he laid down behind you. Chest to your back and triangle by your right. Looking back at your laptop you asked him for any suggestions for what to watch. He chose a documentation about old timey cars. Suits him. Once the brand 'Cungadero' got mentioned, he perked up and moved his whole body closer. Promting you to use it as a rest.

Really opened a can of worms there. Spamton immediately began brabbling about that brand like crazed. Head twitching and turning in all different kinds of directions. Multiple voices overlapping, glitching and each one louder than the last. Not being kind to your ears. The tinnitus tomorrow will be worth it though! History, creation and build aspects. Everything. Both of you completely forgetting the food.

The armor isn't the softest material to fully lean onto though. Some raised edges dig into your skin. So you lean back forward. You see his unoccupied arm shift and feel something dropped behind you. Another mattress! Which looked more like a small pillow in his hand. Thanking him, you lean back again, starting to eat.

Or- wanted to eat. Only to find that it has gotten cold already. Eh, you can live with that.

Spamton stopped talking when he saw you hesistating and then shrugging, twirling some noodles onto your fork. He switches his vision to a thermal one, checking both of your portions and the rest of the containers. Did he really talk for so long that the spaghetti code got cold? He can fix that.

"NO. [[prices dropping by 20%!!]] THAT DOWN. PUT IT INTO THE [[boxing gloves for 49,99€]] AND GIVE IT TO ME. I'LL HEAT IT UP", a beat passes, "IF YOU PLEASE!!". Holding a hand out.

Doing so, you give it to him. Pondering if he'll just press them against his face or something. You watch as he takes every container into his hands and puts them into... INTO his mouth?! He must be warming them up inside his head! Like a big ol' microwave!! Not sure how to feel about that. There better won't be any spit on them, if he even has any to speak of. After a while he takes them out, shame he didn't do the 'Ding!' sound. Puffing out some heated air. Thankfully, for your appetite, they're as clean as they were before.

Wondering how Spamton even eats, you secretly peek at his head resting on the mattress pile about a meter away. Holding an open box to his mouth. He must've manifested a neck using magic so that the food can be passed into the main body for decoding it.

No matter how cautiously you glance at him he still picks it up. Mutual feeling; since he hasn't seen you eat either!! Normally, Addisons can just dump anything down their throats which then gets decoded into a bunch of 1s and 0s. Instead of giving energy, they receive flavour codes. But regarding formality they take bites and chew. Like [[LIGhT>NER]]s. So he assumes that humans shouldn't be too different.

He lifts his head up slightly from its' laying postion. Doing the polite route he lets his [[coral blue #2]] tongue slither inside the food box. Wrapping it around some noodles, he scoops them up and retracts it back into his mouth. Biting off any excess. His broad teeth act like a hydraulic press. Favouring crushing over cutting.

When he bites some off his upper tooth row comes down onto his bottom lip. That 'lip' functions like a black rubber gasket. Same material. Which prevents any damage/cracks incase his upper tooth row clashes too hard onto his jaw. Plus, the top one sinks in a bit in order to absorb the impact.

Ooooh it tastes DELICIS!!! Could rival the taste of his beloved Kromer!! Giving up on being patient with it he starts devouring the food like a man starved. Not caring how much sauce stains his teeth. Once finished with the first box he make short work of the second one. Throwing his head back and dumping the entire content full of greed in one go down. Before he did the same with the third, and last, box he stops himself. Wanting to savour it. Also, he has an idea for a topping he thinks you may like.

What looked like a whole week worth of food to you were only a few bites to Spamton; who was practically inhaling it according to some glances you landed. Technically he could've inhaled it, so to speak of. From your view you even saw that his bottom 'lip' shines ever so slightly at a certain angle.

Even without any projected pupils on his glasses you still felt his gaze on you from time to time. You wonder why he stopped before the third box though. Nevertheless, maybe he has his reasons or waits for something. Not thinking much of it, you continue eating and watching the rest of the documentary. You try your best to stay awake for his sake, you struggle against nodding off again.

From some opportunity windows you had, you could make out that he only bit noodles off and never chewed. At one glance to another an entire box was empty. The way he scooped portions into his mouth reminded you of a giraffe eating leaves. No surprise considering that he almost never fully closes his mout with the lack of proper functional lips or cheeks. Well atleast he seemed to enjoy it!

Halfway done with eating your portion, you hear Spamton starting to finish off the last box. What surprised you though, was on his last bite he picked up the spare fork you brought. Struggling a bit to hold it correctly. But before doing anything with it he turns to you.

"[[Stop the presses!]] THERE, WOULD YOU LIKE A [[Free samples for each product!]]??", holding one hand near your food. You move your plate acceptingly to him.

Holding his empty hand above your portion then rotating his wrist he summons a 'Pipis'; which then placed ontop of your food. After fully registering what it is you tense up, not daring to move a muscle. Why would he give you a grenade?! Despite it being smaller and having some seared spots you're still not so sure about stabbing it with your fork. You glance dumfounded at Spamton.

Looking down at you, he's awaiting you to try the 'Fried Pipis'. But apparently you don't get the memo that it's something to eat instead of an explosive this time. He summons another one and bites a chunk off of it, giving you a loopy smile. Showing you that it's save for consumption and won't blow your face off. Leaning down he looks at you expectingly.

So edible grenades it is then. You cut it into a few stripes while he gnashes down the rest of it. Picking one up you decided to give it a try. It surprisingly tastes a tad like mozzarella! Maybe the magic stuff automatically determines how it'll taste like when put into another dish.

Seeing your eyes widen in surprise makes Spamton huff out a barely audible laugh; some leftover steam warming your skin. "HEAEAEAEA [[Told ya so]]!!", waving the fork into you direction then going back to what he wanted to do before.

Doing his best to twirl some spaghetti on and putting it in his mouth, then fully closing it the best he can, and chews. Mimicking you. You only saw him dipping his head back; no swallowing or anything like that. Interesting! With both of you being finished, he takes the sauce container and licks it clean of any leftovers.

Container being cleaned he sets it aside on the ground. Not without leaving a comment of course! Patting your back in an acknowledging 'good job!' fashion.

"[[5 star rated restaurant]] DEAR CUSTOMER!!", default grin growing wider while rearranging some loose mattresses near where you sat.

Some were placed under his head so that it's propped up a hint instead of laying flat. Now you can see his face more clearly in your peripheral vision again. Seeing his teeth stained from trying to eat like you near the end. Sauce and crushed noodle bits smeared everywhere.

Normally saliva, if he had any, would clean it from its own but not in his case due to having permanent bared teeth. You can help with that!

"You've got some on your teeth right there, Spamton!", motioning with your hand at your own mouth for reference.

Upon hearing that he lets his tongue out yet again gliding over both of his rows of teeth. The rough texture leaving near to nothing left in its' wake. Well except one stray noodle piece it didn't reach one of his dimples. "ALL [[sales gone down the drain, drain]]??", staring at you. Hands resting neatly ontop of his armor while his arms are wrapped around his body.

"Eh- not quite. I can get it for you if you let me though!", lifting your hand to hover near his head, asking for permission to help incase the sudden touch startles him somehow. Which he gladly accepts with a small nod; leaning in your direction so that he fully faces you. He watches you get up and march to him, sinking in the old mattresses with each step, then plopping down on them once you're in comfortable reach of him.

Sitting cross-legged near Spamton you're about the same height as his nose. This would sure be an inconvenient time for any spontaneous movements or else he could poke an eye out by accident. Cautiously lifting your arm up to the side of his face, keeping an eye out for any twitches.

He's doing everything in his might to prevent any sudden head twitches, not wanting to knock you over nor stabbing you with his nose. Watching you swipe something off of him with your thumb, feeling the soft flesh on your thumb. Why was it shaking a little? Pfft, do you really think he'd bite your arm off or something??

Not sure what to do with it, you hold it back out to him indicating to pick it from you in his own mitten to eat. Instead, Spamton leans his head forward, seperates his teeth and licks it off of your thumb. Giving you a jolt which made your arm flinch away.

This earned you an unwanted hurt look from Spamton. Mouth corners slightly drooping. You reassure him that the flinch was only from the shock he gave you, tenderly rubbing his cheek.

It felt like you were being scratched by sandpaper. Coarse and dry. Before any contact with your skin you felt a crackling sensation which made the hairs on your entire forarm stand up. It feels like holding your hand out near static charged plastic or a high voltage plant.

Even though you kind of suspected it already, it still surprised you. Once it made contact after the first shock, you felt weaker ones pulsing in a fast paced tact. Also for some reason it was blue? But at the same time the gradient got darker, going from blue to black further down inside his mouth.

You sit back to the place before infront of Spamtons' chest. Honestly it was getting quite cold now that the mattresses cooled all the way out. Spamton doesn't seem to be heating them up anymore. Not wanting to get a cold you pull your legs up to your chest and snuggle more into one of them. Trying to keep some warmth in by additionally wrapping your arms around yourself.

Is it really that cold to you again?? The always cool temperature may be good for the residents for Cyber City but apparantly not for flesh and blood beings. He's deciding whether about heating his body up again or not, but doing this all the time can even damage his [[Work-Out ready body]]... He's not having any of that. Instead, he has a better idea!! Ah, finally getting to repay your [[Genorisity]]!!!

Some humans bond via body contact don't they? Maybe he can test the waters given the opportunity now. Only if that doesn't overstep any boundaries for you though. Thinking of it he wonders how your past life was like before you fell; but he lets that be out of mutual respect before any old wounds get reopened. He wouldn't want it either.

The synthetic wool material of his plush arms is easy to warm up. Meaning once it's around you then your body heat would be greatly insulated keeping you from being cold! And if he'd somehow get some muscle activity out of you it'd go even faster!! Arms begin to unwrap from his body, drifting to you. He taps your shoulder to get your attention. Turning your head to him you see his hands hover close by your upper arms, making an 'up' motion.

Lifting your arms up and before you know it you're hoisted up by the armpits, engulfed in white and pink fabric. The rest of Spamtons' body gets up, armor plates clattering aigainst each other. Sitting cross-legged, with you being at eye-height with his chest triangle. Holding you diagonally, main body and head leaning forward. Looming down at you he gives you a mischievous smile, making you raise an eyebrow in suspicion.

The thumbs resting on your shoulder move down to your torso. They gently dig into your sides making you squirm and huff out a few quiet laughs. From the looks of it his goal seems to be for you to move around in order to generate warmth faster. Or to cheer you up, maybe both, who knows.

Seeing the fabric getting to a comfortable heat for you he stops. After that he leans his down to snuggle into your chest to check to your heartbeat again. Even if your soulshard isn't emitting the sought after power like it used to, it still brings him an oh so great sense of comfort. Even when the metal parts of his body can't feel much.

You throw an arm around his head and ruffle trough the jagged, synthetic hair. Running strand by strand trough your fingers, evening some knots out. Under your hand you can feel the back of his head heating up, the warmth spreading trough the partly hard plastic skin up to the side his face is pressed against you. Whirring fans causing faint vibrations below your fingertips. After a while his face turns a light shade of red. Steam beginning to form inside his mouth.

Feeling you crane your neck to the side so that you can see his face more clearly. He stares back. Noticing what you might be looking at currently, he swiftly turns to the side making a half hearted grouchy expression. Upon this he hears you stifle back a chuckle and puts a mitten on your face so that you can't see his.

"Woah what was that for big guy?", you jokingly question while disheveling his hair in a kidding manner. Pushing his mitten away.

"NOTHING! [[all, for nothing at all]]!!", earlier formed steam being hissed out inbetween words.

Before you could say some more he shuts you up by hugging your body to his chest. Avoiding the sharp edges of the suit. Long teardrop shaped arms winding you around his body. Albeit with too much strenght considering he hears your spine crack.

"[[Whoopsie-daisy]]!! DIDN'T MEAN IT THAT ROUGH!!", shrieking out in surprise, easing the pressure.

Spamtons' main body falls with you back down onto the mattresses with a dull thud. Still snuggling you into his chest. Now that most noise died out the only thing you can hear are some of his mechanisms relentlessy working.

With his warm arms wrapped around your body, acting as blankets, you begin to doze off. Sensing this he dims his lights yet again. He lifts you up in order to put a mattress between you two so that you don't wake up with cuts everywhere from the sharp edges. Even if he can't sleep he still enjoys beings near you simply resting.

The last thing you register before falling asleep were teeth softly gracing the top of you head.

[threegoldfish]

As much as Marc had listened for the whole of that group meeting so far, surprisingly less bothered by everything than he had expected to be - almost a bit curious at the edges there, despite his own brain telling himself that he doesn't care, doesn't give a fuck, just wants to leave and... go somewhere, to a place he can't ever return to - he is actually listening a lot more once that one guy speaks up, talking about coffee---

---And that, somehow, catches Marc's attention. He knows why that is, honestly: A veteran talking about what Marc had done as well, each and every day, while being stationed at different places - had a cup of coffee in the morning, burnt and too bitter to be comfortable, just that he'd indulged in plopping a sugar cube into it whenever they were able to get their hands on some. He remembers Buck, who would manage to get his hands on coffee creamer every now and then, even - the powery one, much worse than milk but so much better than nothing, honestly. Remembers them all sitting in around that gas cooker in the early morning, waited for that damn water to come to a boil, each holding a metal cup filled with instant coffee as silence stretched... the quiet before the possible storm.

Marc had a cup of bitter coffee this morning, as he did the day before. The... couple of days before that, when he could still remember him having been him and... not... someone else, whoever that had been. Not Steven, he reminds himself, shifts a bit on his seat again. Routine it is for him, a routine that he would miss if he were to stop doing it.

...Isn't it odd how he also feels himself agreeing with that other guy there, talking about missing the sound of things? Marc had always hated it, to hear Gabriel snore, Buck talk in his sleep, Paul farting like his life depended on it. And yet, silence is worse.

Silence had always been worse, because it meant that something had happened before. Someone died, someone got injured, someone had to leave - silence. A change of sound. A change of something someone got so used to, something that brought comfort in knowing that everything is happening the way it's supposed to, and nothing bad had managed to penetrate that circle of soldiers waiting for any kind of mission to come in.

And silence also meant death to others. Marc wouldn't listen to anything else than gunshots being fired for days on end, bombs exploding somewhere, screams and cries and shouts, commands being told at him through that button in his ear, the mobile radio. He'd hated every second of it, every shot of a bullet, every cry of a mother, but silence? Worse. So, so much worse.

Silence meant someone had won, another one had lost a fight. Silence meant walking across dirt and rubble, taking a look at what casualties they had to report back to their superiors. What results had come out of that fight, that try to bring peace while causing pain and sorrow...

Change can be frightening. And it’s easy to be scared of bad things happening, when you’ve had bad things happen before.

"...I was stationed in Cairo, more than once." Marc's voice is quiet as he speaks, syllables only leaving him after another moment of silence has passed - no one else wanting to say anything for the time being, it seems. And Marc... just sits there, doesn't know whether he'll regret saying anything, but...

Well, he probably will. But it is what it is. That man over there? A fellow soldier. Perhaps he can relate, in some way.

Dark eyes keep looking at that white floor, don't dare to move even an inch. Marc can tell that he's being looked at - but he thinks that, as long as he's not looking straight back at whoever is staring, they won't be able to spot that vulnerable side of his.

"Told myself I'll never miss the damn heat. Always too hot, and yet you were supposed to keep your stuff on - at all times. Too dangerous to take anything off, really. You're sweating and everything fucking stinks, you hardly had the chance to take a shower - just a good rub with a towel, if you were lucky. ...I hated it, the whole of that - the way my clothes were soaked after five minutes, the way even sleep wasn't giving us any relief; The air did cool down a bit at night, but those tents? Stayed hot all night. Too many bodies squeezed into a too tight space for any oxygen to circulate. Yeah, our coffee was shit as well, but sometimes we had sugar to put into it. Helped a little."

Part of Marc knows he's rambling, and perhaps nothing he's saying there is even of interest to anyone, but... he just keeps going. Words follow one after another; Perhaps that is because he's never spoken to anyone about such things, and... it feels... a little freeing, in an odd way.

"...As said, hated every single second. Now I'm here, and what is it I'm doing every fucking morning? Get a cup of coffee. And as I sit there, at that damn white table with breakfast in front of me... I miss them. I miss sitting around a stupid gas cooker at 4 in the morning, waiting for that water to come to a boil. Miss having to listen to that asshole talking about his wife for the millionth time. Miss having Buck offering me a spoon full of coffee creamer, one that he managed to steal from whereverthefuck. ---We never asked, no one ever wanted to know. I am also cold, and... I miss the heat. I fucking do."

A pause, and Marc inhales, then exhales. Getting stuck, all of a sudden. He blinks, looks up briefly, finally - just to meet another guy's gaze, to which he glances to the side immediately, stretches his neck a bit. Presses his lips into a tight line.

"The noise. Hated every bit of it. Now I miss it as well. ---Silence always meant something real bad had happened - whether it was good for our mission or not, the outcome always sucked. Someone died, someone lost. Yeah, someone won, but... at what cost? ...Now everything's fucking silent. No routine. Me being stuck in this place. As much as I hated a few of my comrades, as much as they... pushed and poked. Caused me bruises and whatnot, spat and laughed and taunted---"

Oh shit, that one he didn't even want to say. Marc blinks, clears his throat, shifts once more and turns his head to the other side - looking out of one of those windows, avoiding everyone on purpose there.

"...---Anyways. It's different now. And I hate that it's different. Never did anything else, never wanted anything else in the first place. Joined the army straight after high school, just so I could move out. ...I miss the noise, I miss the smell, I miss the structure, I miss the purpose. ...There's just no purpose aymore..." ... "Yet, at the same time, I don't miss it at all. I want the silence, I want the smell of something different. The fuck am I supposed to do with that? Don't know what I want. All of that at the same time, makes no sense. No purpose..."

He trails off, finally - remains silent. Ashamed, now, for having spoken up in the first place. Embarrassed, awkward.

Arthur’s gaze moved gently from one speaker to the next, the soft arch of his brow being more than enough to urge people into talking. There truly wasn’t much pressure, if only because applying it would undo everything that the group was meant for; it was supposed to be casual, quiet, comfortable. 

Arthur noted that Marc hadn’t moved much; but he also noticed that Marc did seem to be listening. Following the stories, at least in some way - he was alert, if only quietly, and it meant that he was listening. Arthur noted it without showing it, but he also couldn’t help his soft exhale in relief. 

The veteran shifted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was stationed near Kandahar,” he offered. “Six-month rotation. Got caught in a blast, shoulder got messed up, hearing’s never been good. Not the part that gets me, though.” 

There was a small murmur that ran through the circle, soft hums in apology or little sounds to indicate focus. 

“It’s the coffee,” the man continued. “Every morning, we’d drink the same shitty coffee. Cheap, overboiled - tasted like fuckin’ burnt rubber. Hated the shit. Thought I’d never touch it again, when I got home.” 

A few people nodded, no one looking bothered by the fact that the story didn’t seem to be going much of anywhere - just listening, politely. Happy to not be alone here, maybe, or just happy to have someone’s problems to focus on other than their own. 

“But when I did get home, I missed it,” the man continued. “I’d make a pot in the same old metal press and just sit on the porch and drink it. I’d burn it on purpose. Put it in a tin mug. Guess you just miss the worst fuckin’ parts of shit, because it had structure.” 

Arthur nodded, his eyebrows again furrowed. “Ritual is powerful,” he agreed. “Even if it begins in hardship. Memory is where we store pieces of ourselves, isn’t it? Good and bad, every part of ourselves is tucked away in our memory. Even if we don’t access it consciously, our body keeps it close. And these things, these memories, can help us see who we really are.” 

He didn’t push for anyone immediately, just giving them a moment; as expected, someone picked it up. 

“It’s not a routine I miss,” voiced one of the quieter men. “It’s sound.” He was picking at his sleeve, pulling at a thread on it as he spoke; watching it, as it was easier than looking around at the group. “I used to live near a train. It was awful. Every night it would come by, all loud and stuff, and it’d wake me up. It drove me insane, y’know. But I guess I liked knowing that there were people who were around me, and stuff. And like, no matter what I did, that train would always be there. And I miss that.” 

Arthur’s expression was soft, nodding. “Sure,” he agreed. “Noise can be a big comfort. Especially when it’s out of your control. There’s safety in knowing that something will happen, no matter what.” 

The teen from earlier shifted, scratching his thigh as he nodded. “I used to see my sister,” he offered. “Like… in doorways, and stuff. Every night before I sleep, she’d come and see me. But then she went to college, and now it’s like… I dunno. I guess I started thinking I’d never see her again. Even though she came by every Christmas, and stuff.” 

Arthur nodded once more. “Change can be frightening,” he agreed. “And it’s easy to be scared of bad things happening, when you’ve had bad things happen before. It’s not bad, it’s just your mind’s way of being careful.” 

Everyone nodded in the same way they always did, as if Arthur were preaching a sermon. It was a mixture of being polite and being genuine, one that Arthur was happy for; it was fortunate that today seemed to be a calmer session. It was good for Marc’s first time visiting, he liked to think; his gaze traveled to Marc, lingering just a moment, silently asking if there was anything he wanted to say. 

[cafeoleconlimoncito]

Yuni’s Birthday Card (Union Birthday)

(A remastered version with interview changes.)

Yuni: So, every time there’s a birthday at Night Raven College, the "Magic Birthday Dice" picks an interviewer... Nice. At my old school, we’d just agree on a lunch hour to eat cake while everyone sang a birthday song—which, for some reason, always made you feel kinda embarrassed.

-Epel enters

Epel: Sorry I’m late. When the dice picked me, I was stunned. I guess I got too excited about being your host, so, well... Hope you like it, Yuni.

-Yuni opens the gift The gift is a sleek set of self-care products: a sweet vanilla-and-honey perfume, floral-scented creams (face, body, and hands), sunscreen, strong-scented antiperspirant, and a stick deodorant.

Yuni: ...Oh. I see.

Epel: Hm? ...You don’t like it?

Yuni: It’s not that. I just didn’t realize I smelled that bad to you.

Epel: Startled Wha—NO! No, no, that’s not it at all! I don’t think you smell bad. I actually like your usual scent... Though you do sweat a lot.

Yuni: That doesn’t sound comforting.

Epel: I mean— clears throat Ahem. You’re always complaining about not having enough personal care stuff, like perfumes or creams. And in P.E., you whine about sweating too much because you ran out of antiperspirant. Plus, you keep saying you miss your favorite gum-scented perfume from that doll brand you love—the super pink one you described.

Yuni: ...Vil told you to give me this, didn’t he?

Epel: Huh?! No! I swear I thought you’d like it. I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to insult your smell.

Yuni: Laughs Hehe! Just messing with you. I do like the gift—I really needed these. I don’t have much money for stuff I used to have back home.

Epel: Sighs Phew ...I really fell for Yuni’s prank. Don’t do that.

Yuni: Back home, I barely used products like these. I almost never wore sunscreen, so my skin was always burnt.

Epel: Now that you mention it, it’s true. I’ve noticed some parts of your body are darker than others—like where clothes usually cover. Your skin’s almost as pale as Vil’s.

Yuni: Not that pale, but yeah, I’ve tanned a bit. Where I’m from is a desert, so most people have different shades of tan. No one bothers with sunscreen—even at the beach, people just bake in the sun.

Epel: Oh! If Vil heard that, he’d lose it. Folks in my village don’t use sunscreen either, so farm work leaves everyone’s skin rough and a little tan.

Yuni: Though my desert isn’t like the Scalding Sands—it’s hot but not dry. I haven’t found a comparable place in Twisted Wonderland yet, but it’s an arid subtropical desert near coastal areas. The sun’s even harsher there.

Epel: Wow. It’s hard to believe you’re from somewhere so hot. Looking at you, anyone would think you’re from a colder place, like the Shaftlands—maybe even Vil and Jack’s homeland.

Yuni: ... She doesn’t like that answer.

Yuni: Anyway. Hey, don’t you have questions for me?

Epel: Oh! Right, the birthday girl’s Q&A.

-QUESTION SEGMENT-

1. Brother

Epel: First question: "Out of all Night Raven College students, who would you pick as a brother?" Dorm-mates are excluded... Though, being in Ramshackle, I doubt you’d care.

Yuni: Interesting... Lots of options...

Epel: Yeah, picking an older brother’s tricky. But if you do, I’d recommend Leona.

Yuni: I don’t want an older brother.

Epel: Surprised Huh? But you said you have older brothers at home. I figured you’d want someone protective like them.

Yuni: Not to sound rude, but older brothers aren’t as great as they seem. Sure, I’m grateful they looked out for me, but there are downsides. Two of mine were so annoying—they’d pull mean pranks. I was scared of closets as a kid because of them. And the oldest? The age gap was so big, I couldn’t tag along—he was a teen doing teen stuff while I was still a kid.

Epel: So... a younger brother?

Yuni: Nope. I used to think being a big sis would be cool, but after babysitting Grim, I realized it’s too much responsibility. Even if first-years aren’t much younger, if trouble happens, I’ll get blamed for being older.

Epel: ...So?

Yuni: I want a brother my age.

Epel: Your age? So... 17? Second-years?

Yuni: Right. My mom grew up with a twin, and when my aunt visited, they’d share all these fun stories. My two brothers (not twins) were inseparable as kids—always playing, even if they fought later. I want that. So... I pick "Kalim".

Epel: Scarabia’s leader? Well, he is rich—traveling with him’d be fun.

Yuni: It’s not just money. Kalim’s cheerful, listens to Jamil, struggles with studying, and can’t do chores. I’d love teaching him stuff. Plus, he’s got little siblings—he’d adore having someone his age to hug (among his 30 siblings). And unlike Jamil scolding him, I’d defend him.

Epel: ...Yuni, you literally sound like you wanna be Kalim’s big sister.

Yuni: Well... But if we mess up, we’d both get scolded! Laughs

Epel: Laughs Sure, why not?

1.5. Deserted Island (Non-canon Question)

Epel: "If you were stranded on a deserted island, who’d you take?" Dorm-mates excluded—so no Grim.

Yuni: Hmm. Survival skills matter—shelter, hunting, foraging... I pick "Jamil".

Epel: Jamil?! I thought you’d pick Deuce or Jack! ...Or even me.

Yuni: Deuce and you are reliable, and Jack’s physically strong.

Epel: Grins Aw, stop—

Yuni: But there are better options: Jack’s nose, Ruggie’s survival skills, or any Diasomnia guy—especially Lilia. I’ve heard his survival stories. Even Jade or Floyd—as merfolk, they could navigate us home...

Epel: What about Azul?

Yuni: Octopuses creep me out. I don’t wanna stare at one while sailing.

Epel: Really? They’re cowards—touch them, and they ink you.

Yuni: I don’t wanna talk about it. Bad childhood aquarium trip. I am trying to get over it, though.

Epel: So... why Jamil?

Yuni: Grins Because he’s scared of bugs.

Epel: WHAT?!

Yuni: Laughs Imagining him freaking out over bugs is hilarious. Survival’s boring—I’d need entertainment!

Epel: You’re picking him just to laugh at his misery?

Yuni: Not misery—just his reactions! Plus, he was raised as a bodyguard. He can do everything.

Epel: But he only does stuff for Kalim. He’d make you do your own work.

Yuni: If I do it badly, he’ll stress out, tell me to scram, and do it himself. Perfect!

Epel: I keep forgetting Yuni’s a master manipulator.

Yuni: I just work with what I’ve got.

2. Dorm

Epel: Last question: "If you couldn’t be in Ramshackle, which dorm would you pick?"

Yuni: Hmm... Pomfiore’s too strict about looks, so no.

Epel: Aw. I wanted someone less fancy with me. So... Heartslabyul, to be with Ace and Deuce?

Yuni: Nope.

Epel: ...No?

Yuni: Have you seen Queen of Hearts’ rules and Riddle’s leadership? I’d lose my mind in a week. Vil and Riddle are way too strict.

Epel: Can’t argue—Pomfiore’s just as demanding. So... Scarabia (chill) or Savanaclaw (you’re sporty)?

Yuni: Nah. Scarabia’s fun with Kalim, but Jamil’s stressful. Leona’s lazy—I’ve slept in his room. Octavinelle’s out—I refuse to let Azul have power over me, and aquariums terrify me.

Epel: Aquariums? That’s new.

Yuni: Same bad childhood trip. I’m fine visiting with friends, but I’d never go alone. Plus, I can’t swim—if the place flooded and Azul "saved" me, he’d charge me forever.

Epel: So... Diasomnia or Ignihyde?

Yuni: Ignihyde.

Epel: Curious why.

Yuni: Diasomnia’s too formal. Sebek yells, Silver’s always asleep, and Lilia’s cooking... shudders. Ignihyde’s techy—it’s like a sci-fi movie! Ortho’s straight out of a futuristic film. I love fantasy, but sci-fi wins.

Epel: Hearing you talk about your world’s lack of tech makes me wonder how you even have fun or contact friends.

Yuni: Ignihyde’s tech is advanced even for your world.

Epel: True—their engineers build crazy stuff for Magical Wheels. It’s cool.

Yuni: I don’t get the tech, but I’d love online gaming—connecting with people worldwide. That’s new; my world doesn’t have it.

Epel: Magic would impress someone from a non-magical place. I’m from a small village, so cities amazed me. For you, everything here must be wild.

Yuni: Plus, Ignihyde’s quiet and private—perfect.

Epel: No privacy in Ramshackle?

Yuni: Grim follows me everywhere, and ghosts barge in unannounced. Ignihyde students mind their own business—no leader nagging me. Perfect.

Epel: Your extrovertedness might scare them, but who knows? Maybe you’d adapt.

Yuni: Gotta try everything once.

-INTERVIEW END-

Epel: Well, that’s it! Tradition says we gotta smash cake in your face now.

Yuni: Sure. Not too different from back home.

Epel: You do that too?

Yuni: Not smashing—but people "help" you bite the cake... and you end up covered anyway.

Epel: Then brace yourself—I won’t hold back.

Yuni: Ready... THROW IT!

-Epel launches the cake

Yuni: Laughs Now I’ll smell like cake—no more complaints about my scent, right?

Epel: Ugh, you’re never letting that go. Laughs

EVENT END

Original PIC:

I want to clarify that, in the image, I put that Yuni is in the Jade club, but I only did so because there is no icon for “The Gourmet Club,” which is the club where Yuni originally belongs. If, in the future, they release some Grim clothing and show the club icon, I will gladly change the design of this clothing.