#extensions they are extensions there’s no other explanation

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

May I get your thoughts, opinions, and ideas on Èowyn's reaction to the situation she found in with Grima? Do you think it was at all possible that Théodred and/or Éomer, realizing the danger she was specifically in, tried to send her away someplace safer, away from Edoras, and she said no because she refused to leave them and her Uncle? I don't think it was discussed extensively in the book how it all went down in the decline of Théoden's health and household, but I know you've thought about it. Would you be willing to share your headcanons? 😊

Personally I know Grima is a creep with considerable influence, but I've also had trouble thinking of Èowyn has a caged bird with zero power surrounding her own fate. True, she was limited in what she could do and in how people perceived her, but I could never see her as helpless. I always thought she was more trapped in her own depression and discontentment. 🤷‍♀️ Grima would certainly never have been able to physically overpower her. Was the danger to her really just that her loved ones might be stripped away from her?

Again I guess I just have a hard time thinking of Théodred and Èomer not keeping a closer watch over her and taking extra steps to keep her safe, if they realized that she was a target.

Sorry for the rambling! 😂 I know you can explain your own thoughts in a more organized way that I do!

My answer to this got MUCH longer than I expected. I found that I had to kind of walk through it systematically to make it (hopefully) clear, and that made it very long. Sorry!! 😬 (Also, this answer is all rooted in the books, not films.)

As in most situations in life, I think the dynamics here are nuanced, complicated and sometimes contradictory. It would have been much more straightforward if all Éowyn had to worry about was herself, if she (or others) had the unfettered freedom to act in accordance with what was best for her, and if there weren’t social/cultural expectations that worked against her interests. But that wasn’t the deal at the time.

As a threshold matter, I 100% agree that I cannot see Éowyn as helpless and weak, because we know she wasn’t. She was smart, strong, trained to fight and incredibly brave. If Gríma had eventually tried to cross some invisible line that she had devised for herself, there’s no way he could have physically overpowered her without significant outside help. But even though I think she could have flattened him in a one-on-one fight, I don’t think that advantage would have helped her much in her day to day life, because hurting or killing him wasn’t a realistic way to deal with the threat he posed.

When we meet him, Gríma has quite a lot of power. He has Théoden’s clear support (not obtained through clean means, but he has it nonetheless), and he operates with the king’s authority, uses his resources and issues orders in his name. To mess with Gríma, then, is to mess with the will of the king, and that’s illegal and even treasonous. If you take that step, it could mean severe punishment, including imprisonment or death. And being a member of the royal family wouldn’t necessarily protect you from that (see: Éomer getting unceremoniously jailed later in the story). So I don’t find it surprising that Éowyn (or others) would not have chosen to take on Gríma directly at the time of the story, given that it still wasn’t entirely clear exactly how evil his larger plan was and he hadn’t yet acted on his designs on her beyond being a super creepy perv who watched and followed her.

But if she couldn’t get away with harming or threatening Gríma, why didn’t she just flee instead? This is less clear but there are several potential explanations. For one, she may not have seen that as possible. If it was Théoden’s expectation that she be his nursemaid, then again, she can’t just ignore the will of her king. We don’t explicitly know if that’s the case, but he certainly didn’t seem to consider literally anyone else as a possible substitute for the care she gave (definitely not one of the boys!!). Also, let’s not forget Gandalf’s words from the Houses of Healing, where he questions whether Gríma only spoke poison into the ears of Théoden. If he instead also filled Éowyn’s mind with despairing, hopeless thoughts, he might have caused her to believe that she was irrevocably trapped. Given how desperately unhappy and imperiled she was, it seems plausible that she would have tried to run if she could, and the fact that she didn’t may suggest that she literally couldn’t or at least didn’t think that she could.

But let’s say she could have left and perceived herself as having that choice. There are still numerous reasons why she might have stayed. As you note, she presumably loved Théoden as an uncle and surrogate father and showed him a lot of loyalty and devotion. She would hardly be the first person to knowingly and willingly keep themselves in a position of danger, vulnerability and unhappiness out of concern for someone who would be left behind if they fled. So, that’s also very plausible.

Even if she had no personal affection for Théoden, though, it’s possible that she’d have been reluctant to leave him anyway. It’s worth remembering that Théodred and Éomer didn’t live in Edoras — they were based in Helm’s Deep and Aldburg, respectively, and the urgent press of duties there often kept them away. So Éowyn was the only member of the royal family to be always present with Théoden, able to keep a continuous eye on what was happening and to try to do what she could to counteract the negative daily influence of Gríma. She probably felt a sense of duty to be there, even at the cost of exposing herself to harm and finding the whole thing hateful and degrading. (Note that she DOES try to leave once Théoden is healed and she doesn’t have the duty to watch him anymore!)

Now, if her concerns were about caring for Théoden and/or blunting Gríma’s influence, there were ways to try to mitigate those concerns while still allowing her to flee, most notably by finding someone else who could step into her role. But who? Your choices are 1) someone who wasn’t in the royal family and thus was arguably in an even weaker position relative to Gríma than Éowyn was; or 2) Théodred or Éomer, who would have to give up their marshal duties to come back to Edoras full time even as conditions in the East- and West-marks were significantly deteriorating.

I can (and do) hate that Éowyn, as the female royal who lacked any other formal role within Rohan’s political and military structure, got stuck with the perilous nursemaid duties just because she was, for lack of a better word, available. I can (and do) stipulate that it was quite convenient for Théodred and Éomer that Éowyn was there and could be counted on to put her misery aside and handle things at home so that they could keep doing what they were doing. But I also acknowledge the reality and seriousness of the tasks Théodred and Éomer were undertaking — things that were central to the protection and safety of the kingdom overall and that could have been substantially harmed by the need to stop and return to Edoras. All those statements can be true at once. I don’t think Théodred and Éomer set out to disadvantage Éowyn because she was a girl, but in practice she was disadvantaged for that reason because they had official jobs that she did not and a crush of external pressures heightened the stakes of every decision such that no one felt comfortable casting aside all those formal jobs and normal ways of doing things to try a different, novel approach.

My personal interpretation of the characters’ choices is that Éowyn loved Théoden and felt a duty to Rohan. For that reason, she wasn’t going to leave him on his own in that state, no matter how unhappy, afraid or angry she was. She was also depressed, isolated and probably influenced by Gríma not to trust the other people around her. So the only way she would have agreed to give up that duty and flee was if one of the only two people she did trust — Théodred or Éomer — was back in Edoras to take the duty in her stead. But I don’t think she ever really expected that to happen because, you know, that’s just not how things worked. Marshals of the Mark had their own urgent duties and obligations, and I don’t think it’s especially likely that she expected her cousin or brother to upend established norms that way even if she wished for it. She was, sadly, resigned to this fate.

As for Théodred and Éomer, I think those two judged that the threat of catastrophic violence in the East and West was sufficiently high that they couldn’t abandon their commands to deal with the situation in Edoras. They instead took the very significant and calculated risk to have Éowyn handle Edoras even though she was both terribly unhappy and in danger there — not because they didn’t love her or worry about her but because they simply felt themselves to be without any choice and weren’t yet able to think enough outside of the box they were raised in to see another alternative. I think they trusted her and probably took some comfort in knowing that she had the training, skills and bravery to act at need, and I think they also enlisted the secondary help of other folks in Edoras who could keep a close watch on their behalf and come to Éowyn’s aid if events ever seemed to be getting beyond her control. Among these would be Háma and Elfhelm, both of whom are canonically fond of Éowyn, supportive of her, and close enough to be on hand in an emergency.

I would have made different choices myself, but I can see why they all made the choices they did even as I disagree. Again, all their options were bad and came with big risks. You can’t have a royal family member keeping an eye on Théoden and Gríma AND have the marshals of the Mark preventing the collapse of Rohan’s borders AND get Éowyn out of that dangerous and hateful position in Edoras. At best, you can do 2 out of those 3 at any one time. That is not an enviable place to be.

FWIW, I do think that a change in strategy was imminent in February 3019. Our heroes were going to have to become willing to do something that was previously unthinkable if they were going to overcome Gríma’s advantages (namely, his willingness to play dirty). Maybe that means murdering Gríma in an act of vigilante justice, no matter the consequence. Maybe that’s pushing Théoden from the throne since he wasn’t ruling competently. But I think they were coming to understand that SOMETHING had to change. We see in UT that it was getting increasingly common for Théodred and others to act without orders in order to thwart Gríma’s intent, and it’s a short walk from “I’m not waiting for orders” to “I don’t follow the orders you give” to “I no longer recognize your authority at all.” Perhaps even Gríma and Saruman could see this dynamic coming into shape, which is why they murdered Théodred in an attempt to head it off. So it’s possible things for Éowyn might have changed at some point soon, though we’ll never know exactly how because the unexpected arrival of Gandalf changed everything!

I’m SO SORRY that got so long. I hope ANY of it was useful at all! And of course, this is just my own two cents. There are plenty of other valid interpretations, and some of those may suit you better!

[vampires-official]

Do you think animals (feral, anthro or whatever) can become vampires or is that only a human thing? Would it depend on the situation or species?

My personal thoughts on any vampire rules is Do Whatever You Want Forever; vampire lore is so extensive, cross cultural, and built upon as it is that it's super fun to be creative with it! While I love learning about/exploring the historical and technical sides of things, I also love seeing how it's evolved, how people utilize niche things, or how they adapt certain elements to fit their ideas and stories. it's super cool! Plus, the mainstream idea of vampires changes all the time. Did you know the whole burning in the sun thing wasn't a part of the mythos until the Nosferatu movie from the 1920s?

So as to animals, anthro or otherwise, why not? I think there could be some really fun ideas to explore there. Is there a magical explanation for vampirism in their case? Do they only feed on members of their own species, or can they drink the blood of others? Do they have any powers that makes sense for them that the typical vampire does not? If humans also live side by side, are they affected? could a human vampire turn an animal or vice versa? I think that could be really interesting!

I think this could be an especially interesting angle too for both mammalian and other animals. If I remember correctly, one of the theorized origins of the vampire mythos in folklore is an explanation for rabies. Would other mammals think about vampirism in a similar way that we do? How would it differ? How would non-mammals think about vampirism? Or does vampirism work like rabies where only certain types of animals are affected? Much to think about!

[m00nj3w3l]

Also I know I say this with every character possible but Anthy is powered by Autism 2000

[moinsbienquekaworu]

I'm sorry I'm going to be insane for a second, avert your eyes

[sparkys-ec-corner]

Hi! Just curious- why do you ship amomiche, not that I dislike it, just curiosity killing the cat I guess lol

a mix of vocaloid shipping bias (i'm lenmiku trash, i love lenmiku, it's my supreme otp), considerations for my amostia headcanons back in the day, and my liking for friends-to-lovers and gloomy tsundere boy x cheerful deredere girl tropes that led to the change of their status from "oh i love them as friends" to "oh i love them as friends - but what if they kissed too??"

that's basically it.

i liked the relationship i made up in my head in a way that ended up becoming a ship. nothing complicated, just all around silliness :3

[heloflor]

You know, considering how many posts I recently made about Movie Peach and how negative they are, there’s something I feel the need to clarify since I wouldn’t be surprised if people had some assumptions and I don’t want words I didn’t say being put into my mouth (Tl;Dr at the end):

As a completely original character, fully detached from everything other than the movie, I have no issues with Movie Peach. She’s badass in a fun way, spunky, has a few cute faces, and I especially appreciate how despite being a strong female character stereotype she’s very supportive of Mario and builds him up rather than putting him down, it makes her likeable and their relationship very cute.

And yes, this is the way I perceived her from the get-go, but only mentioned it in my movie reaction post made all the way back when said movie came out, hence needing to say it again now. To quote that post: “Least favorite character is DK. It could’ve been Peach but my issues with her stem from how different she is from her games counterpart. If you take her movie character as a brand-new character rather than a game adaptation, she’s actually pretty great as a guide and strong mentor.” And while there are things in this post I now disagree with, this part remains my current opinion.

So yeah, as an original character, she’s pretty great...but that’s also the issue.

Movie Peach is not an original character. She’s supposed to be an adaptation of a pre-existing character who already has her own personality. And as an adaptation, Movie Peach fails at every level. Not only that, but several dialogues keep hyping her up in a way that comes off as Illuminations looking down on Games Peach, you know, the character their own Peach is supposed to be an adaptation of.

That’s why I take such issue with Movie Peach. It’s not the character itself, it’s how bad of an adaptation she is. And if I did my job correctly, every single time I talk negatively of her in my posts, it’s about her as an adaptation specifically. The only instance of me being an ass for no reason is in my table comparison post where I call her a dumbass, which I point out in the tags to be me throwing shade and not something I actually believe.

Now I also want to say that I hate Movie Peach for what she represents and the consequences of her existence on Peach’s character and her perception by the public, so to keep it short I’m going with bullet points:

It annoys me a lot that a multi-million dollars company couldn’t be bothered to adapt her character properly, especially since they apparently closely worked with Nintendo and the concept art very much show them who Peach is as a person (the one where she’s encouraging Mario to fight DK reminds me of the 86 Anime where she keeps having Mario fight her battles while powerless to defend herself; also it’s funny how in the art of Games Peach reacting to Movie Peach it’s obvious the artist had no idea what personality Movie Peach has). The fact she’s a favorite character of mine doesn’t help and makes me feel robbed from seeing a beloved character on the big screen for the first time. And obviously them low-key insulting her by hyping up Movie Peach makes it worse.

Even before getting into the fandom I knew that Peach isn’t the most well-liked character, with many gamers especially finding her bland and boring. This was already sad on its own, but now those same people are praising a character who’s completely different from her for being “so much better” or “finally giving her a personality”. It sucks. Games Peach deserves better than that.

With those things in mind I don’t think I need to explain why the fact this characterization is possibly bleeding out into the games is something I dread. Now I can live with a cover art change, but if they change her actual character I’m going to scream. Especially if they only do it to Peach and no other character. And yes I know some people also pointed out a possible direction change for her voice but 1. for some reason I don’t really care, possibly because she’s been through quite a lot of voice-actors already 2. we only clearly hear her voice in the Showtime trailer during the Kung-Fu part so maybe her voice will differ depending on the costume, it is a stageplay after all, and 3. the Wonder short with Bowser has her let out four noises, one of which has a different tone while the other three keep her usual high octave, so I’m not sure if they truly intend on changing her voice. Haven’t played Wonder yet tho so I can’t speak to all her other voicelines.

Hopefully this will be my last post about this outside of answering asks and reblogs as I’m always open to discussions/debates. I don’t like bringing negativity and especially not drama to my blog but, considering the extensive rant I made about this, it only feels right to make sure people don’t misinterpret where my issues come from, since I can absolutely understand people seeing my posts and concluding that I hate Movie Peach for who she is rather than what she represents.

Now, instead of being negative about Movie Peach I’d rather focus on being positive about Games Peach, mostly through the fics I’m working on.

Tl;Dr: Movie Peach would be genuinely great as an original character but alas she was put inside the skin of someone with a completely different personality from hers. And it's very hard to look past this given the consequences of Movie Peach's existence on how people percieve Peach as a whole now on top of a possible change in her games character.

[esote-rika]

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦 | 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐝

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!Reader Category: Smut 18+ MDNI Summary: You have several (stereotypical) assumptions about your nerdy coworker; he proves how wrong you are about them. Content: 3.2k, early season dom!Spencer Reid, bratty reader, reader has hair that can be put in a ponytail, brat taming, BDSM dynamics, sensation play (feather tickler hehe), reader is ticklish, spanking, making out, thigh riding, coworkers hooking up (are we even fucking surprised), hopefully still soft and sweet and hot. a/n: Listen I know I keep saying I’m taking a break but unfortunately I’m ovulating HARD; this is the last one for May, but there will be a part 2, I’m already planning it. I wrote this completely piss drunk (my friends can probably share screenshots as proof oops) and then sobered up enough to edit (might have missed some stuff). Based on a request that Tumblr ate 😭 but basically, BAU reader teases Spencer about sex only to find out he's a kinky BDSM dom. Hope u enjoy!

“What would you know about BDSM?” The question, spoken with a carefree laugh and just a hint of condescension, is directed at your coworker, who is currently stirring copious amounts of sugar into his coffee beside you. 

Dressed in a tweed blazer that overwhelms his slight frame, Spencer Reid only tilts his head to the side, honey eyes keen and flashing with something you can’t quite place. You lean against the counter in the pantry, intrigued by his response. You’d expected a blush, chin tipping down, hair falling over his pretty eyes, lips uttering bashful, stuttering words. 

Not… this. Regarding you with a frank, unblinking calm that has you shifting in place.

“Oh, right,” you roll your eyes teasingly, unwilling to let him see how easily his nonplussed reaction has fractured your easygoing facade, “You’ve read about it extensively, haven’t you? What do psychology textbooks have to say about whips and blindfolds, Dr. Reid?”

“Quite a lot,” he replies with a serenity that unnerves, “Some attribute it to the feeling of being safely back inside the womb.”

You scoff, “Right, because thinking of your mother during bondage is so sexy.”

“But,” he presses on, narrowing his eyes at you, patient but warning, “There’s often explanations that go hand in hand with biology. Deprivation of one sense tends to heighten the other. Physical restriction offers the same feeling, which then leads to altered states of pleasure. In a more emotional sense, surrendering your power to a partner communicates the highest level of trust, offering a deeper sense of intimacy for some people.”

So he does know a lot about it. Still, you don’t drop your teasing grin as you reply, “God, how do you manage to make BDSM sound so clinical?”

“Because it is a little clinical, if I’m just explaining it in polite conversation. The communication is better enjoyed if the actions match.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm hmm,” he smiles, dimples flashing, a show of innocence. A mask. 

“And this information is from experience?” you tease.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

His tone carries implication and it settles upon your stomach, heavy and warm. That makes you perk up, but you fight the urge to show your intrigue. Instead, you scoff, “As if there’s anything to know.”

He’s quiet. Sipping at his coffee, honey eyes twinkling over the rim of his mug. It’s infuriating.

“No way.” you huff, finally breaking. The lightness of teasing leaves your voice, shifting to something darker, more accusatory, “You expect me to believe you have experience? In BDSM?” 

“Announce it to the entire office, why don’t you?”

You pause, looking at him almost in betrayal. Really, how could you not? Spencer Reid, who looks like his nose would start bleeding from the slightest sexual attention from a living, breathing person, has BDSM experience? The man who wears sweater vests and slicks his hair back like he’s a seventy year old librarian? You survey him today, in all of his rumpled, mismatched glory, trying to find one hint of his apparent favored pastimes.

He looks almost smug as he meets your gaze, cocking his head to the side.

“No way.” you repeat.

“You possess an awfully limited vocabulary for today.” 

“Shut up, stop pulling my leg,” your eyes narrow suspiciously, still in disbelief. 

“I’m not pulling your leg,” he says, allowing a small, almost imperceptible smirk to curve up his lips for one split second, before his face gets hidden by the coffee cup again.

“Prove it, then.” 

The words startle both of you, but you’re stubborn enough to see it through. Meeting his gaze with a confidence that would seem sincere to the untrained eye, but Spencer has worked with you long enough to know it’s all bravado. 

He looks at you, unsure. “Prove it?”

“Look who's vocabulary is limited now.”

He scoffs and lowers his voice, “I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into.”

“I know what I’m getting into, I’m a grown woman, thanks.” 

“Then I’ll fax you a copy of my rules. If they still seem like something you’d want to try out, come to my apartment Saturday night—that is, if we aren’t called in for a case.”

You shrug, the perfect picture of nonchalance. “Great, sounds like a plan. Don’t forget to fax.” You both know he wouldn’t.

By some universal twist of fate, that Saturday is devoid of any last minute cases. You spend the whole morning poring over the sixteen-page document that Spencer had sent over on Friday, reading through the risks—a lot of which you already know from your own research—his specific set of rules, and what he’d normally allow for a beginner. You don’t have the same perfect memory he does, but you’re sure you’ve memorized everything by the time you knock at his apartment.

“So you came,” he says, offering you a cool glass of lemonade, looking perfectly at ease as he leads you into his bedroom. 

“Of course,” you say, looking around as you sip on the drink, taking it all in, “I was serious when I said prove it.” It’s dim, but nothing else is inside that rouses suspicion. It looks completely normal—a neat bed, a messy desk, haphazard piles of books—until your eyes land on the items on the dresser. 

Silk ties. A paddle. Something that looks similar to a feather duster, but you assume it’s made with a different activity in mind. Your cheeks are aflame.

“You know the safe word?”

“Yes. Jupiter��you’re such a nerd, by the way.”

He laughs, taking you half finished glass and setting it down. “Do you have any objections to the terms I’d laid out? Additions?”

“I just need you to make a promise.”

“For what?”

“That this stays between us.” You face him, searching his eyes for any deceit. It’s always a risk, being a woman and engaging in anything that could be considered deviant, especially in an environment like the BAU, which is honestly a glorified boy’s club.

“You have my word. Everything that we do stays in this room.” he vows, stepping closer.

“And,” you bite your lip, “No sex, right?”

He shakes his head, “None. We’ll focus on sensations tonight, just to let you get a feel for things.”

It seems more intimate, just trusting him to tease and play with your body, but you’re glad that the boundary is set in place. Spencer seems to have gotten a lot of experience at this, and briefly, you wonder just how many other people has been in your place.

You push the thought away and smile at him. “Okay. Then that’s all on my end. I accept all your terms, and I remember the safe word.”

He hums, turning you around. Standing so closely behind you, his heat warms your back like a gentle fire. Long, elegant fingers that carry the lingering musk of old books and coffee gather your hair into a ponytail at the base of your neck. He secures it with a thin elastic, before leaning in, breath whispering goosebumps into your skin. 

“Strip.”

There’s a sudden loss of heat as he steps back. You’re surprised to miss it, already, but even more surprised by his command. “What?”

“I said strip, angel.” he says, walking to your front with an expectant look on his face, “Down to your underwear.”

You sputter, looking up at him incredulously, but his face is serious. Patient, but serious.

“Do you need your safe word?”

You don’t reply, realizing that it’s begun and this is exactly what you agreed to do. To submit to him and his commands. The weight of this reality sinks in, rendering you mute and frozen, and he immediately softens. 

Hands cupping your cheeks, Spencer looks at you with concern, “Hey, we can stop.”

“No,” you reply, forcefully. Stubborn pride pulsing through your veins—no way you’re stopping before you’ve even done anything, “I don’t want to stop, it’s okay. I just—okay. Strip.” you step back, nodding and muttering to yourself, “Okay, yes, I can do that.” Looking down, you fumble at the buttons of your blouse, undoing them with clumsy, unsure fingers.

He steps back to the dresser, retrieving the bundle of feathers, never averting his gaze. Wide brown eyes take you in as you lose your shirt, and then your pants, standing before him in matching lace underwear. A slow grin spreads over his lips, “You dressed up for me?”

You feel your cheeks burn, “No.”

“So you just wear expensive lace sets for no reason, even on Saturdays?”

“You don’t know what I like.”

A step closer, “I’m about to,” he says in a low, smug tone that has your breath catching, “Stay still.”

Stay still. Easy enough. Your eyes follow his movements, the way he brandishes the feathers in his hands. Your head cranes back as he circles you, and he tuts in disapproval.

“I said stay still,” he murmurs, hand cupping your jaw and adjusting your head forward.

“But—”

“But?” 

“Nothing.” you squeak as you look ahead again. Your heart makes itself known, drumming in an exaggerated, hurried way that makes you want to shift. But Spencer said stay still, so you do.

A small part of you wants to scoff—why are you following Spencer Reid’s orders? This is ridiculous. Say the safe word and this would all be over. He’d never mention it to anyone else, like you both agreed earlier. You can get out, and you know for a fact that Spencer wouldn’t judge or protest.

But you don’t.

Because a larger, more significant part of you finds this whole thing incredibly hot.

Several seconds pass. Agonizingly slow. He’s drawing it out, you realize, testing how long he can get you to stay still. Or maybe he left. No, he wouldn’t—couldn’t, you’d hear his footsteps.  Finally giving in, you look over your shoulder, brows knitted in confusion.

You’re met with a disapproving look and a shaking head. “Didn’t I tell you to stay still?”

“You’re taking too long,” you pout.

“That’s the second time you’ve disobeyed me, angel,” he tuts. The heat of his body envelops you as he steps into your space again, his chest pressing to your back. A hand skims over your side, warm and firm as it finds the swell of your hip, and sits there. A warning. “You know what’s going to happen when you do it thrice, don’t you?”

Your mind flashes back to the conversation and the list, the rules he laid out so painstakingly for you. Thoughtful and attentive, Spencer had made you read through pages of what he expects from this dynamic, the rules you must follow as his submissive, the punishment that will be enforced should you disobey.

Three strikes and you get spanked.

“I do,” your words drift out the most delicate breath, heart hammering even more now. “I remember.”

He hums when you are finally still. Lips land on your bare shoulder, chaste and warm, while his hand travels up your side, featherlight and teasing. They skim up your ribcage and you can’t help but gasp, fighting every cell in your body to keep from moving. Your compliance is rewarded by another satisfied hum, and then finally it touches you. 

The feather. 

Crawling up the back of your left thigh, soft as a whisper. 

Ticklish.

“Fuck,” you gasp, jerking away from his grasp in surprise. You find yourself missing the feel of his hand on your waist before you realize your mistake. 

“That’s the third.” he says, shaking his head.

“I wasn’t expecting it on my thigh!” you snap, suddenly feeling so exposed. To shield yourself, your arms cross over your shoulder defensively, voice lowering by way of apology, “I’m ticklish!”

He considers it for a moment, sitting on the edge of the bed, but his eyes remain trained on you. Gauging your reaction, the same way he’d talk to a skittish witness. You find yourself shifting again, unused to being on the receiving end of such a stare. When he speaks, his voice is calm, as if he’s soothing a ruffled creature, “You’re welcome to say your safe word.” 

The easy way out. But you’ve already gone this far, stripped out of your so-called armor, down to your lace underwear and allowed him to regard you in ways far too intimate for coworkers. It would be such a waste to back out now. Besides, he said the punishment would just be spanking, how bad could that be?

“No,” you reply finally, voice breaking through the silence that settled and swelled in the room, “No, I’m okay, I’ll—I’ll take the punishment, like I agreed to.”

He sits up straighter, “Are you sure?”

A gulp. “Yes.”

He pats his lap, “Come here then.”

You’ve lost count of how many times you felt warmth at your cheeks, but this feels like a wildfire has started now, smoothing over your face before spreading all over your body in an all consuming blaze. Flashes of those kinky magazines and news articles you’d rolled your eyes over flit through your mind, the models now replaced by the image of you and Spencer. He’s asking you to bend over on his lap to receive your punishment.

With a nod, you join him on the bed, your torso draping horizontally over his lap. Your legs are laid on the bed, and you hold yourself up by your elbows. From this position, he has perfect access to your ass, a large hand smoothing over one cheek. 

You squirm, “Your hand’s cold.” 

He laughs, “God, you never stop complaining, huh? I should add another one just for that.”

“Sorry, I can’t help it.”

He sighs, “I know. You’re doing fine, all things considered. I’ll just do three, okay? For every time you moved.”

“Okay.”

“I want you to count.”

You inhale so sharply you almost choke on nothing. That had no business being as hot as you found it. His hand is on your ass again, and you have to dig into your brain to focus and answer, “Okay.”

The first strike comes quickly, a sharp sting followed by a cool, gentle hand soothing over it. You exhale a gasp along with the word, “One.”

“Good girl.”

Jesus Christ.

Another smack, this time on the other cheek. “Two… three.”

It’s over before you know it, barely even lasting three minutes, but it’s still managed to take your every breath away. You find yourself wishing he had added another strike, just so you could feel the sharp sting again. 

“Are you okay?” his voice pulls you from your reverie, hands helping you sit back up beside him, “Do you need a break? I could get you some lotion—”

You tune him out, staring as he offers different ways to soothe the stinging. His hands keep making lazy strokes up and down your arms, eyes completely focused on you. Words are flying past his lips, attempting to reach you through this haze, solutions and probably another reminder of your safe word, but all you can think about is how close he is, how pretty with his earnest brown eyes and pouty lips, but also how hot and since when was Spencer Reid hot? 

A familiar sensation settles low in your belly, slickness between your thighs, and oh my god you just want to kiss him.

So you do.

His lips are soft, pausing mid sentence for just one moment, before he’s kissing you right back, open mouthed and desperate, his hand cradling the back of your head, tilting it up so his tongue can dive deeper into your mouth. You moan, kissing him back with just as much fervor, scrambling forward in an attempt to get even closer. He tastes like mint and cinnamon, the oddest combination that has you sucking on his bottom lip, eager for more.

An arm wraps around your waist, and you find yourself on his lap again—no, on his thigh. Singular, straddling it with nothing but a tiny scrap of lace and his trousers in between your skin. Two degrees of separation. You moan again, biting down hard.

“Wait,” he pulls back, breathless, thrown off, “Wait this isn’t part of the agreement.”

You laugh, “I’m sorry, I don’t really care about it right now.”

Soft brown locks tickle your jaw as he ducks his head. Lips run over your collar, moist and gentle as he speaks, “I wasn’t really prepared for this. I don’t have a condom.”

“Oh.” you seem to deflate in his arms, despite the incessant pounding in your chest, the buzzing at your fingertips.

He looks up, surveys you like a puzzle to be solved. On his thigh, with barely anything on, practically throwing yourself at him. Muscle flexes and shifts beneath you, eliciting a gasp from your lips. It moves again, just as his hands hold onto your hips and keep you in place. 

Your lips fall open, “Oh.” you repeat, but this time, it’s a low, breathy moan. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs, watching you with a small smirk, “Move those hips for me, angel.”

You don’t need to be told twice, pressing down hard onto his thigh. The pressure gives your clit enough stimulation, pulling another moan from your lips. Louder this time. Loud and pretty, as his hands keep you steady, and your arms wrap around his shoulder, fingers finding the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Oh god,” you gasp, staring right at him, at those intense hazel eyes that have turned nearly black. You ride his thigh shamelessly, finding a rhythm that you know will have the pleasure snapping within minutes. Paired with Spencer’s praise, the sweet kisses he’s laying on your jaw, you find yourself trembling in his arms as you rub yourself along his muscular thigh. 

All of the anticipation seems to have built up to a fever pitch, his teasing, the spanking, it all floods back until your orgasm hits you like lightning. Razor sharp, every nerve of your body seems to sing and tremble from pleasure as Spencer keeps his thigh gently moving, helping you come down from your high. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, burying your face into his neck. 

He laughs, wrapping his arms tightly around you, “Are you okay?”

“Better than okay.”

Slender fingers card through the back of your head, tangles into your hair, “You did really well. We went a little off script, but it seems like you found it pleasurable, which is always the goal.”

Pleasurable is the understatement of the century, but your only response is a breathless chuckle. At the moment, that’s all you’re capable of. 

“Okay,” you whisper into his neck, losing all ability to extricate yourself from him. He doesn’t seem to mind though, his hold on you just as tight, free hand rubbing warm circles over your bare back. “Okay, you’ve proved your point. You seriously are a dom.”

“Mhm.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“What? You can’t believe it? I literally just gave you one of the most hands on demonstrations anyone could ask for.” he says with a laugh. It rumbles through his chest, and the feeling makes something in your stomach clench pleasantly. 

You lift your head, finally meeting his gaze. Your eyes flash with mischief when you reply, “I don’t know, I might need another one to fully understand it.”

He smiles back, wide and catlike, “Well then, I think that calls for an encore.”

Thank you for reading!!! also if you could give me some encouragement for my thesis that’d be much appreciated i’d give you so much brain kisses MUAH.

[devosin]

GRIM ACCIDENTLY OUTING YOUR CRUSH ON HIM !! . . grim accidently blurting out how much you love the dorm head . .

gender neutral reader / fluff / crack taken seriously / mutual pinning

a/n: this has been rotting in my idea list for like over 2 years, enjoy! og account: @/cupids-chamber

MALLEUS DRACONIA

Malleus was surprised, when you had decided to tag along on his Gargoyle Study Club meeting, however he was ecstatic with the idea of you joining him, while he talked about his favorite things. Truly an exciting time, talking to his favorite person about his favorite things!

For once he didn't quite mind having no one at the meetings, because he got to spend time with you—and Grim . . he's there too . . In fact, Malleus kind of finds it endearing he stuck around this long with you, listening to him, despite clearly not being interested in the topic.

Malleus walked around, showing you his collection of gargoyles—explaining the extensive history of each one, and you listened, throughout his explanations which most people would find extremely boring, though seeing how passionate he was about the subject, you couldn't help but be engaged.

You followed along behind him, as he showed you each one, Grim on your shoulder, yawning rather loudly—clearly bored with the past hour, where you dragged him into Malleus's club meeting, which you passed off as a 'morale' thing to do—when he can clearly tell you did this because you liked him.

"Ah . . I have something I want to give to you"—Malleus shifted through the drawers, looking for the miniature gargoyles he had made for the both of you (well just you, he figured grim would appreciate something more . . edible . . he got tuna.).

Grim leans in closer to you, whispering rather loudly, so much so you knew Malleus could hear, "henchman, how much longer . . my whiskers are turning white here!!", he whispered all bit dramatically, and you sighed internally, mumbling a soft, "Grim not right now", in response.

After a few more moments of silence, Grim leaned back, and exclaimed, "You seriously like this guy, he likes gargoyles more then I like tuna—"

Grim paused, realizing he spoke a little more than he really should've. . . and Malleus paused, dropping whatever was in his hand to the floor, turning blankly at you, looking at you with a dumbfounded look on his face . . (he's processing, give him a minute.)

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

Riddle isn't the kind of person to intrude in a conversation, especially when he knows he isn't wanted there (debatable)—He also doesn't enjoy listening in on others private conversations . . However, this case is different, obviously he has the right to be curious when you're being so very loud, I mean practically everyone can hear you!

His heels clicked on the floors, as he raced through the halls—Riddle doesn't often find himself in a rush, but lunch had started 5 minutes ago, and he was running behind on his schedule.

His hands gripped his notes tightly, and just as he was about to make a turn, he heard his name . .—Riddle stopped in his tracks, looking around, in order to find the source of the noise, that's when he spotted you . . and grim, who was speaking rather loudly.

Now, Riddle swears he's not purposefully ease-dropping, but Grim was loud. . he was bound to overhear anyways! . . Well that's what he'll keep telling himself, in order to ease the guilt of listening in on your private conversations.

"Riddle?!" Grim exclaimed, waving his little paws around in shock, "out of everyone henchman, you like that—", you covered Grim's mouth with your hand, whispering loudly in response, "Why don't you tell the whole school I like Riddle, Grim?!?"

Riddle paused in response to that, 'you liked him? . . as in romantically? . .', Riddle loses his grip on his notes, in shock. Papers scattered the floor with a thud, and before Riddle could fix the mess he had accidently caused, you turned, and faced him . . This is gonna be one long confessio—conversation.

VIL SCHOENHEIT

See, Vil isn't the kind of person to believe in a rumor or petty gossip that he hears across the halls of Pomefiore, because if there's drama then Octavinelle and Pomefiore are the absolute first at the crime scene—He's well aware of how a small lie and a fake rumor can go and ruin someone's life, which is why Vil prefers information from the source.

That being said, Vil does enjoy gossip—and at time's he draws his own conclusion to a topic, and keeps it to himself, he's on the middle line of it all, but you bet, he'll 'coincidentally' overhear all the drama going on at your family reunion but don't worry, he's amazing with secrets. (Headcanon: he probably pretends not to like gossip, but still listens and reacts when Rook tells him what he overheard)

And this is why Vil couldn't help it but approach Grim when he heard him complaining begrudgingly to himself, about you kicking him out and making him run 'errands' . . which were more likely then not, a distraction.

"Oh it's nothing, henchman just needed privacy . . ya . .", Vil raises a brow, and Grim should've shut down, but when a can of good tuna got involved . . Well a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.

Grim took the can of tuna from Vil, "They're preparing a confession letter", Grim spoke and Vil couldn't help but feel a pang of betrayal at the revelation, how could they like someone else . . When he's breathing! (At least wait till he's cremated, like gosh . . So as long as his body exists, even if he's not breathing, you should love him frfr #hawkmothcore for the win) . .

"To who?", Vil asks, curiously, and Grim stares at him blankly, "I'll give you another can to go—" he offers, "Gimme it right now, and I'll tell ya'".

Vil sighs, handing him another can, "The letter is for ya', henchman likes you—".

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

Now normally, Leona could care less as to what goes on in the botanical garden, while he takes a nap there (mainly because he's too asleep to register his surroundings), because even with his acute sense of hearing, rarely anyone visits, and if they do, they only do so to take a break or catch a breather, or to just immerse themselves in the garden as a sort of escape, so it's usually all quiet and soothing, for the most part.

However, some days he wasn't so lucky, be it students randomly popping in so they could skip class, or to have a picnic, or that random couple, who thinks it'd be a cute and adorable idea to have a date in the botanical garden because no-one goes there, and it's so secretive and the mystery excites them. (he hates, he fucking hates it, he's the biggest hater there is, he despises all couples equally.)

Leona was all comfortable, half-asleep, his eyes were closed as he was ready to just get some shut-eye, sleep for a couple hours—until, he heard footsteps, rather loud ones . . Now, he normally doesn't care, and to be frank, he doesn't care right now, he figured they're taking a small stroll, and will stop . . eventually. (delusional king!!)

"Grim this is ridiculous—", Leona's ears perked up as he heard your voice, now that had his eyes wide open, looking around for you . . Well he's not that curious, as to what you find 'ridiculous' (he's very curious, he needs to know each detail, tell him everything), but he does hope you expand on it.

"C'mon henchmen! The best way to get over someone is confess and get closure?", Grim was confused himself, with whatever he was saying, "Oh yea Grim, which class did you learn that from, romance 101 with Crowley?—", Leona snorts.

"No actually I asked Trien!" Grim says . . a bit too confidently for comfort, "Grim . . I don't think you should be proud of that", you point out.

"Just tell Leona you like him? He's not gonna kill ya"

". . ." Leona froze, . . you liked him? I mean yea that makes sense, he's really attractive, but you—Liked him? . .

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

Azul states that he doesn't favor you that much—although the twins will argue otherwise, especially since Azul got you to taste test the new Monstro Lounge menu items, before he released it . . before even tasting it himself, . . and maybe he didn't want to let it slip that he liked you only—because he ended up also inviting Grim to taste the food with you—And with Crowley's payments . . well you were more than willing to accept free food.

To be fair, Azul is aware you do get a bit more special treatment, and deep-down he's well aware he likes you, but confronting his feelings? in this economy? . . not gonna happen . . He'd rather you assume he's a cat person who likes Grim, because clearly that's what you think of him, since he's so pretty and smart and good at covering his feelings. (He's not, he's boyfailing a little too close to the sun.)

Azul had everything set up—and by that he means, he had a plan and got other people to set it up for him, according to said plan, because he couldn't give away the fact that he had planned it himself, no . . that would make it seem like he was into you, and he'd rather die then you know that—In fact, he'd rather have his tentacles inked dry and cut off, fried and dipped in his ink, and shoved so far down his throat he chokes and dies before that even remotely comes close to happening.

You sat beside Azul, as he asked asked you about the food, and you gave responses that he mostly liked, . . well you did have some comments about the blue cheese rigatoni . . But to be fair, he entrusted the blue cheese to Floyd . .

Grim was half-way through his food, when he randomly spoke, with his mouth rather full, "This is amazing . . I can see why you like this guy henchman . .—" Azul paused and he practically stopped blinking, if his ears could perk up, then it would right now, "—for once your taste in men . . has good justification henchm—" Grim only paused when he recognized your glare, and only then did he realize how badly he fucked up . . "I'm not getting the good tuna for awhile . . am I?"

KALIM AL-ASIM

Kalim doesn't usually come in without an appointment (lies), or before informing you beforehand (lies on top of lies), and he doesn't really like invading your personal time (and lies again) . . at least not knowingly, but today was different . . he wanted to go somewhere with you! It's a surprise, and surely you'd appreciate him randomly popping into your dorm and dragging you outside, in the sunlight like an upstanding citizen and friend.

Kalim settles on the couch in the lounge of Ramshackle, stretching his arms out as he gets comfortable. All the while, Grim stares him down, . . something Kalim noticed off the get-go, "Why are you looking at me like that?", he calls out, confused and a tad bit unnerved at the blatant piercing stare.

"You're the one henchman likes, right? . .—what's your credit score? . . how many cans of tuna are we talking—"

Kalim paused, ". . . what?", he asks blankly, still paused at the first half of Grim's sentence, enough to not notice or take offense to the rest of his words and questions. "Why can't ya' hear me . . ?! I asked what's your credit scor—", grim responds, only to be cut-off mid-sentence by Kalim "BEFORE THAT!"

"That you're the person henchman lik—", Grim pauses as he hears your voice, and as you enter the room, Grim realizes his mistake, "Fuck."

"Kalim act natural!" Grim asks, as he goes back into his usual stance, but as he see's Kalim not moving, . . "who am I kidding . . no one can get shit through to ya' in one go . . I'm fucked."

IDIA SHROUD

Idia had his gaming equipment set up for two, well it would be three—but paws and controllers isn't the most fun thing to play around with, therefore Grim has opted to watching, instead of playing. Which he gets bored of rather fast, and well Ortho preferred to watch his older brother then play, or do normal kid things like advanced calculus.

Although Idia didn't really mind that, he enjoyed playing with you, because you were a really good challenge, a true gamer! . . And with newer games, he found that you listened and got the hang of it fast, and it was fun helping you grow your account on his favorite games, and it was also fun listening to you ramble about your favorite games from your world.

"So yea in genshin impact—", you rambled on and on about the Fontaine chapter, and about the 'archon' which was like the great seven, and how sad her storyline was, Idia dabbled in Lore from time to time, though he really found it amusing how you took the time to describe everything, you really helped immerse him in the storyline, and to be honest, sometimes he could imagine he was playing the game with you.

"—and then if you went into this specific area you could actually hear her cry . . OH oh! . . and when Neuvillette cried, it would like downpour so hard . . ", you continued rambling, and Idia would just listen, so much so that you guys completely forgot the game you were actually playing . . which seemed to upset Grim, who wanted to watch.

"Yea yea . . henchmen, we get it was sad, and it's fun talking to the love of your life—but could we please have more playing and less talking!", Grim explained rather dramatically, his paws flinging up, only to be silenced when he saw the two of you silent, looking at each other . . and then Idia's hair burst up in bright pink flames . .

commissions / discord server / (all open) commissions

@ devosin , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[beefy-the-stronk]

THE GANG'S ALL HERE LETS GOOOOOO

Finally colored them all 😭 Like I said before, feel free to take any inspo or reference I don't own these chucklenuts

Alrighty design explanation/hc time:

[Edit:] I added an extension cus I forgot to earlier aaa, don't want this huge wall of text to be unchecked

Sam:

- He's partial heterochromatic

- I hc him as mid 30's so he's got some Grey's

- Chubby, but decently built arms

Joel:

- Shirt is ripped because of mouth, i noticed this in his sprite and other people's observations

- gave his shirt stripes cus I wanted him and Sophie to have more distinction in their warthdrobe

Sophie:

- butterfly etching on her pants

- She is missing a tooth, makes sense with her age and rowdyness. Also has a bandaid on top of that.

- she has a big overlayer shirt cus again, helps distinguish her

Dan:

- Fingerless gloves, he's cold but he needs his fingers free to record or play games😩

- he has NO hair anywhere, maybe even has Alopecia

- Wear's a sick denim vest hell yeah

Hellen:

- TALL and also very build like a heavyweight champion (so muscular and a bit of pudge)

- also greying, I personally think hc her as 40

- I am obsessed with how everyone gives her coveralls, so I'm including them. Tho, she mostly wears them during excursions. At the apartment, she takes it off and wears her normal turtleneck and sweats

Xaria:

- she has a nasty scowl and sharp teeth, basically she both a barks and bite.

- some makeup too cus GOTHHH

- she's taller than Dan with the boots on, and is decently built too with strong shoulders

Monty:

- short and it's hard to tell, but I made him chubby under the coat. Unlike Sam tho, his arms are thinner.

- also has sharp teeth, and a scowl

Leigh:

- she has a huge head 😭 yes that was on purpose, her sprite had a beeg head

- she's taller than she looks, but hunches over and crawls a lot

- fun fact: I made her avert her gaze because she looks absolutely horrifying looking forward like everyone else

Rat Baby:

- gave him a lil bandana cus why not

- I think he's relatively big here, like a small dog

Papineau:

- he's not as tall as hellen but he's still huge

- AURA

- no constructive comment but I do find him handsome VuV

Ernest:

- bundled up in many layers

- very thin underneath tho

Roaches:

- he's a bunch of roaches can more can I say lol

Morton:

- he's def just a huge cricket underneath the layers

- he is quite fond of the colorless rubiks cube sksk

[briarlovesclara]

is this anything? (details/analysis under cut)

(closeups have more extensive ids)

EDIT: this is now outdated and made post ep 9 i believe!

UPDATED VERSION POST FINALE HERE:

Sam and Evan: need no explanation. Neither of them have confessed to each other but COME ON. whether or not you think they Should be together, there is no way at this point that danielle and brennan are unaware of what their characters are doing which is falling in love. on screen in front of us.

Sam and K: this is where it gets less obvious-- I can't remember exactly why but K in the last episode just felt so down bad to me. Even before last ep, I was starting to see a future where Evan and Sam got together and K was really fond of Sam "totally by proxy" (see K and Evan later).

Evan and Jammer: this one I struggle with if I'm being so honest, so I decided to make them struggle with it too. If you think either of them would ever know what was happening you'd be wrong in my personal opinion.

K and Evan: they're in love. I'm sorry. Not saying they're in a healthy or stable relationship but they are in fact in love. I'm part of the theory that Evan broke up with K and if you've seen his face this season he's dead in the water for them.

Jammer and Sam: he has no idea what's in his brain about Sam. I didn't put an arrow back because I don't know what she feels about him in my head so I didn't even want to make her confused.

Similarly, Jammer and K: I have no read on them. I can however see K being at least platonically into Jammer (they seemed a little too into the Weugan thing). But that's just a thought. A film thought.

That's it! This is all in good fun :) lmk your thoughts if you'd like!

[freshfrenchtoast]

Kageyama's backstory only being revealed near the very end of the series is really interesting from a meta perspective.

For reference, his chapter is 387 out of 402. That's 96% of the way in.

To contrast, other characters like Tsukishima and Yamaguchi's backstories are shown in Chapters 87-88.

Now, we do get the explanation for his "King of the Court" title in Chapter 6, at the start of the series, but we don't see how he got to that point, or why he started playing volleyball in the first place like Tsukishima's and Yamaguchi's stories show.

It creates this situation where, despite being the deuteragonist, the character our protagonist, Hinata, is practically glued to the entire series, we barely know anything about him.

We don't even know he has a sister until that point whereas other characters' siblings like Natsu, Saeko, Akiteru, Alisa have all made appearances way before then. Even Oikawa's sister, though we don't see her, we at least know she exists because of Takeru.

He's both closed off to us (the audience) as well as the other characters in the series, and this results in them finding him rude or disliking his character in general (see: the "Kageyama is abusive" discourse that somehow keeps popping up even now).

Chapter 387 takes place in 2018 and was published in 2020 so it takes him 6 years of in-universe time and 8 years of irl time to really open up.

And the catalyst for all of this is Hinata fulfilling his promise of beating him.

You see, another thing to note is that, whenever Hinata thinks of Kageyama, he's always looking at him from behind.

His internal image of him is someone who's always up ahead, someone he needs to catch up to, meaning Hinata can only see one side of him, he cannot see all of Kageyama until he catches up and passes him.

Which he finally does here.

In this shot Hinata is finally the one who's looking back at Kageyama. At this moment, Hinata (and by extension the audience) can see him for all he is, can see how he was just a lonely boy who's been waiting for someone to meet him where he is, to keep running alongside him and not quit the race.

Someone he doesn't have to go easy on. Someone who would actually tell him to hurry up instead of slow down for a change.

His someone better.

[pedropascallme]

☆Kinktober 2024☆

Day 9: Size kink

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) size difference/size kink, mentions of masturbation (f), oral (m receiving), fingering, p in v sex, creampie, kinda fluffy? almost? If I missed anything please let me know!

You’d always considered yourself average as far as Tattooine was concerned. For a human, you were average height, average build—average, average, average.

But Din had a way of carrying himself that made you feel more important by proxy. People moved out of your way, averted their gaze, as if you were an extension of the hefty Mandalorian soldier.

And for once, you felt tiny; puny compared to the heap of man and metal that walked by your side.

You didn’t know how tall he was without his armor, how broad his shoulders would be without the pauldrons that framed him, but the manner in which he walked—brooding and aloof, confident in every step despite the near constant gunfire aimed his way—made you feel as though the beskar only served to heighten his already looming stature.

It drove you insane.

The nagging voice in your head got louder every day; he could kill you with one hand, he could squash you where you stood—he’d probably fuck you out of your own mind.

And what were you to do about it? A glorified babysitter who kept ship and dressed wounds; who occasionally found a spot by the Mandalorian’s side in the cockpit, leaning against him without protest from his modulated voice.

You were a business measure. You were a way to ensure nothing went awry when Din was busy or away. Or worse.

But it didn’t stop you from spending sleepless nights in your cot with your hand in your pants, stuttering out his name when you pressed your fingers to the sweet spot you knew so well, curling up and imagining how the rhythm of his breathing would feel through his armor.

Now, as you made your way to the cockpit, you felt a chill run over you—the cold air of space sunk into the ship and settled in your bones.

You pushed down the urge to imagine the way Din’s unobstructed skin would feel against you, warming you, protecting you from the harm of the vacuum surrounding the ship.

“Kid’s asleep.” You stood at the entrance of the cockpit, not necessarily expecting a response.

You’d come to enjoy your one-sided conversations.

Din didn’t look up, but his head bobbed slightly in acknowledgement.

“I thought he’d never get to sleep…he was hungry, then he wasn’t, then he was toddling like he owned the place.” You sighed, “He was especially grabby tonight. For someone with three fingers, he’s got quite the grip. Should probably teach your son that noses aren’t for pulling on.”

“Not my son,” Din tilted his head, visor pointed over his shoulder as he responded to you, “Just…my kid.”

“Right…” In all the time you’d spent on the ship, you still hadn’t managed to figure out what connection the two had to each other. “Well, either way, I think he’s getting a little better at recognizing when he’s tired himself out—knowing what he wants.”

Din nodded again, just enough for you to recognize that the conversation was over. You turned to leave, cursing yourself for your inadvertent conversational faux pas.

At least you had your bedtime daydreams.

“And you?” Din spoke before you managed to exit.

“What about me?” You stood still, waiting for him to provide an explanation.

“Do you think you’re getting better at recognizing what you want, mesh’la?”

You remained unsure of what that word meant, or why he used it to address you—several times when he’d first taken you in, you’d corrected him, reminding him your name, and every time he’d just stared, nodded, and thanked you.

Din still didn’t look at you, and it was somewhat unnerving that he was so good at playing the part of a statue.

“I don’t…” You took a few steps forward, the gap between the two of you still seemingly endless, “I’m not sure what you mean…”

“Mmh,” was his only response.

But you stayed behind him, curiosity getting the best of you.

“Was there—what are you trying to say?” You pressed for clarity. His quiet intensity made you nervous.

There was a long pause. You momentarily wondered if he would even grace you with an answer. He did that sometimes, staring down at you through his visor as you mulled over something he’d said, refusing to muster a reply to your line of questioning and leaving you to figure it out yourself.

“You’ve done work on the walls.” Din leaned in his chair, pressing his body to the chair’s back and spreading his thighs as if to stretch them.

You swallowed, trying not to watch him move, though your stomach flipped a little when one of his gloved hands came to rest near his crotch.

“I’ve done work that you asked me to do…” You still weren’t sure where he was going with this—if he was going anywhere at all. “Wiring and welding…is there something else? Because it wouldn’t be a bother, ‘specially since the kid’s asleep.”

You were greeted with another long pause, only disturbed by the sharp breath Din let out that caught in the modulator.

It sounded almost as if he was laughing.

You shifted on your feet, uncertain and growing more tense by the minute. Was he unhappy with your work? Was he going to make you rip out what you’d done, start all over again—berate you for your shortcomings?

“You’ve noticed that they’re thin.” Din’s words made your anxious musings of being out of a job vanish, replacing them with entirely different anxieties.

You wondered if he could see you shaking like a leaf.

“I w—Din it’s not…” You couldn’t think of an excuse, and you were suddenly hit with the notion that perhaps he wasn’t even talking about that; maybe he was simply asking you to be quieter as you rummaged through cabinets and closed doors.

“I like the way you say my name.” He turned the chair around, facing you. You stared at him dumbly, his legs still spread in a shamefully alluring manner. “What do you think about?”

Your lips parted as you considered his question.

On one hand, there was still a chance to argue back, plead your innocence, feign ignorance; a chance for you to ignore him, to walk out of the cockpit and crawl into bed.

On the other hand, you didn’t want to walk away.

“You…” You mumbled, looking down at the floor. You fiddled with your hands in an effort to feel less awkward. “I think about you.”

“And?” He wasn’t going to let you omit details.

“I think about…about how much bigger and—and stronger than me you are.”

He stayed silent, and you searched for ways to fill the gap he would otherwise fill in the conversation.

“I think about how you make me feel so small when you stand next to me—sometimes when you give me instructions, you stand so close to me, crowd me against the wall, and I—I like…I like your shoulders.”

You cringed at your words. I like your shoulders? You wanted to kick yourself.

“And I think about how your hands would feel—always think about how big they are, how they’d, um, how you’d probably be able to grab me…play with me and use me so easily.”

Din let you stew in your words for a moment longer before speaking.

“Come.” He tilted his head back, a small gesture to bring you forward.

You obliged, forcing your legs to move, settling to stand between his knees.

“Sit, mesh’la. On your knees.” He watched you, and though you looked at him skeptically at first, you did what was asked of you.

When you’d gotten yourself comfortable, shifting on your knees between his legs, you looked up at him. His face was tilted down, watching you acquaint yourself with the position you’d taken on the floor.

“You are easy to play with.” He said it so robotically, a monotonous acknowledgement of the scene before him as you clung to his every word.

“I knew it,” you offered a sheepish smile, hoping that making light of the situation would help the tension dissipate.

Din reached out to hold your chin, tilting your head up to force your line of sight directly into his visor.

“What else do you think about?” The worn leather of his gloves felt smooth on your skin, and you let out a shaky breath of appreciation at the contact.

“Think about…” You reached up hesitantly, letting your palms rest on the armor plating his thighs. “How you’d feel. How heavy you’d be on my tongue and how—how deep you’d be…inside me…”

You heard him groan, an intensely human sound beneath his helmet, and it spurred you on, suddenly aware of the power you held and the mutual need that both of you were experiencing.

“I think about how thick you are—always imagine that my hands would be too small to fit around you properly. And how much effort it would take for you to fit.” You let your fingers spread over the cloth of his flight suit.

Din removed his hand from your chin, both of his palms coming to rest on top of your own hands. He gripped them loosely, pushing them back onto the armor on his thighs.

You felt a pang of disappointment until you realized that he was giving himself the space to undo the clasp of his suit to give you what you wanted.

He sat up a bit straighter, fumbling with the fastener before managing to undo it with a grunt. He paused, looking at you between his legs for a moment, and then he pulled his cock from its confines.

He was beautiful; long and thick, tan shaft holding up a red, rounded tip. Veins ran down the underside of his length, decorating him.

You tried not to let the feeling of shock show on your face, but he laughed lightly, validated by your obvious astonishment.

“Is it what you thought it would be?” Din’s voice was low as he began stroking himself with a gloved hand.

You whimpered, unable to contain the startled glee in your voice. “Din—”

“Yes,” he cut you off, sighing, “Please.”

You let out a hum, bringing your hands up to his cock, met with the thrilling revelation that your fantasies had been grounded in reality—your hands were insufficient in engulfing his length, fingers struggling to close around him, several inches of him remaining untouched.

You leaned forward, hesitantly sticking your tongue out and swirling it around his tip.

Din’s head fell back as he cursed, fingers flying to grip at your hair and follow you as you began to bob your head up and down over what you could fit into your mouth without choking.

“You’re—you’re warm…” He grunted out, gathering strands of your hair into a makeshift handle. “Did you think about this, mesh’la? Did you think about having me in your mouth like this?”

Your response was muted by his cock, but the happy sound that bubbled from your chest let him know everything he needed to.

You let the spit that dripped over him coat your palms, using it as a lubricant to slide your hands over his cock while your continued to force more of him down your throat.

Din hissed at the feeling, the way your wrists jerked in sync with the movement of your tongue over him, and he tightened his grip on your hair.

He let you continue for a while, before deciding to pull you off. You rested your head on his thigh, one hand still trailing the veins of his cock while you tried to catch your breath, drooling.

“Look at me,” he urged, tugging at your hair to tilt your face up. Your lips were puffy, chin coated in your drool, and there were tears glazing your eyes. He stared, content with how easy it was to get you cockdrunk. “Perfect.”

“I wasn’t done…” You whimpered an argument, pouting.

“Yes, you were.” Din coaxed you up from the floor, hands on your arms lifting you to stand.

He let his arms drop, looking at you, how wrecked you were while still fully clothed before him, and his fingers moved to toy with the buttons of your trousers.

“Alright?” He froze, awaiting a sign that what he was doing was ok, that you were willing to let him continue.

“Din, if you don’t take them off, I will.” You let yourself drag a hand down the side of his helmet, and though you felt cold metal in place of skin and hair, you still felt as though the gesture was intimate, fitting for this scenario.

Din had heard what he’d needed to hear, finally undoing the buttons and letting your pants pool around your ankles. You stepped out of them awkwardly, playing with the hem of your shirt and looking at him expectantly.

He nodded, a more obvious signal this time, and you shed the shirt from your body, too, leaving you fully exposed. You began to lean forward into him, but he placed a hand on your shoulder, pushing you away.

“Turn around.”

You spun, turning your back to him. Without warning, you felt leather-clad fingers squeezing your skin, roaming your hips before gripping harshly at your ass.

“Now sit.” He put both hands on your hips and tugged you back to him, letting you adjust as you fell into his lap. He helped you spread your legs, hooking your knees over him and opening you to the cold air of the ship.

“Bite.” Din pressed a finger to your lips, “I want to feel you.”

You whimpered, carefully biting down on the tip of the glove and letting him pull his hand out. He grabbed the fabric that hung from your mouth and tossed it to the side.

“Good.” His newly ungloved hand roamed your body, groping your tits and squeezing roughly at any untouched skin he could find. His other hand gripped your hip, keeping you steady.

You whined, trying to grind down against him. The pulse of his cock, still hard and coated with your spit, pressed into your back, and it made you impatient and dizzy.

“Stay still.” Another command that had you whining, but you acquiesced.

Din’s bare hand wrapped around your thigh, pulling it further to give him ample room to touch you where you needed him. He pressed one finger to your clit, and though the touch was somewhat soft, you bucked your hips into the feeling.

“Such a little thing,” he mused, “It’s so easy for me to keep you where I want you.”

That made you moan: his acknowledgement of your size difference and the way he used it to his advantage. You squirmed in an effort to get him to give you more of what you wanted.

Din’s finger dropped lower, teasing your slit and hovering over your hole. He dipped the tip of his finger into you, growling at the slick feeling that coated him.

“All this from nothing.” He thought aloud before plunging the finger into your cunt, curling it to jab into your most tender spot.

“Oh m—Din!” You hadn’t expected the intrusion, but you welcomed it all the same. You writhed on his finger, much thicker than your own and filling you in a much more satisfactory way. “More—another, please.”

“You can handle more?” You thought you heard him smiling.

“Even if I can’t, you can make me,” you whimpered, “I want more.”

Your response earned a rumble from Din, a low growl that vibrated through his chest. He pressed another finger into you, leaning over your shoulder to watch your cunt swallow the digits and coat them with your juices.

“Look,” he grunted, “Look how much you struggle with two fingers. How are you going to take my cock?”

And you were struggling, but it was wonderful; his fingers pressed against your walls, stretching you out in preparation for what was to come, and you brought your own hand to your clit to rub circles over yourself.

But Din grabbed your wrist, leather digging against you as he tugged your hand away from your core.

“Mine.” His voice was animalistic, so lost in the way you squeezed his fingers and the way you listened to his demands. He tossed your own hand to the side, replacing it with gloved fingers that pressed rhythmically into you in time with the fingers he had working you open. “Had plenty of time to touch. Thought you wanted the real thing.”

“I do—Din, I do, I do,” you were pleading, begging for his help in getting you to your high. “Please, I do.”

“Cum.” It was all he said, pressing his fingers roughly against your clit and curling those he had inside you to tease your orgasm from your delicate spot.

And you did; with a loud yelp and a chant of his name, you were coming undone on his hands.

You rocked against his cock where it nestled against your ass, whimpering as you let your head fall back against his shoulder.

“Good, mesh’la.” He stroked your hair.

He pulled his fingers from you slowly, and you shuddered, hit with the feeling of emptiness as your body clenched around nothing. He brought his fingers to your lips, and you welcomed them into your mouth, sucking on them and gathering the remnants of your slick on your tongue.

“Din,” you gathered yourself together, releasing his fingers and breathing deeply. You pressed your back to his chest. “More.”

“You’re being greedy.” He couldn’t hide his delight at your eagerness, the modulator picking up on the amused breaths he let out. “Stand up. Face me.”

On shaky legs, you obeyed.

You felt your thighs, gluey against the air, stick together as you moved, evidence of your pleasure that lingered on your skin.

When you turned to face him, went wide-eyed with fascination. His ungloved hand had wrapped around his cock, slowly stroking himself as he watched you.

“On my lap.” His free hand patted his thigh, and you approached enthusiastically.

You maneuvered yourself on top of him, straddling him and letting your knees press into the crevices between the armrests of the chair and his body. He placed a hand on your hip, rubbing his thumb over your skin, trying to feel you through the leather of his glove.

You settled against him, feeling the movement of his arm as he continued to jerk himself off. The tip of his cock brushed against your clit, and you mewled, rolling your hips against him.

“What do you want?” He urged you to speak, his fingers digging into your side.

“You—want your cock, Din.” You were shameless, desperate to feel him split you in half.

“And if it doesn’t fit?” He slapped his cock against you, making you whimper above him. You shifted your hips to savor the feeling of his skin on yours.

“You’ll make it fit.” You found the confidence to look into the visor, certain that you were gazing into his eyes behind the shield.

He groaned, pulling you closer to him as he lined himself up with your entrance.

“I will.” He reassured you, beginning to push into you.

You moaned at the stretch, the pressure of his body against yours as your cunt swallowed the head of his cock. You clawed at the armor on his chest, and he let out a throaty sound.

“So tight,” he seemed almost as breathless as you felt, “Taking me so well.”

“Feels—it feels so good,” you whispered, bouncing on the tip of his cock, “Give it to me, please. All of it.”

With a growl, Din removed his hand from the base of his cock, gripping your hips, manhandling you to contort your body the way he wanted you.

He pushed you down onto him, thrusting his hips upward until he was buried to the hilt in your cunt.

You screamed, head falling into the crook of his neck and writhing as your body accepted the invasion of his length. Despite the suddenness and the extent to which you had been filled, you craved more, dragging your hips against him and trying to see just how deep he could get.

Din cursed, rasping and desirous. “Look at you taking all that cock,” he was transfixed, obsessed with how your cunt gripped him. “You think a lot about having me force it in, little one? Forcing you to take it how I wanted? Ruining you?”

“Y—es,” you sobbed into him, “Wanted you to—wanted you to break me open.” You were choking back moans, arms wrapped around his neck.

He had engulfed you completely, dwarfing you and turning you into nothing but a toy—a doll at his disposal that he used with no regard.

And you loved it. You loved the texture of his veins running down your walls, the filthy wet sounds that he pulled from your cunt with every deep thrust, the way his balls bounced heavy against your ass when he forced you down onto him.

He brought a hand to the nape of your neck, pulling you back and encouraging you to look down at where your bodies connected. He released you, opting to grab your hand and press it into your stomach.

“You know what that is?” There was a smugness to his tone, one that made you feel lightheaded, “That’s my cock.”

You moaned, but he wasn’t done speaking.

“That’s my cock wrecking you—breaking you how you wanted. Not your fingers, mesh’la. Do you hear the pretty sounds you’re making for me? I never heard you scream like that when you were trying to fuck yourself.”

Your jaw went slack, legs aching and hot with the effort you had to put into keeping up with his pace.

“S—o much—so much better,” you choked out, “You feel so much better than my hands, Din.”

“I know I do. Tell me,” he kept your palm pressed against your stomach, watching as you bulged with him every time his cock punched into you. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Din—oh!” You were so far gone, so focused on the pleasure of having him so close, so deep. You managed to breathe a one-word response. “Big…”

“Big,” he laughed, “That’s right.”

His thrusts became slower, his cockhead nudging your g-spot at a delicious pace that made you give up your attempts at keeping up with him.

You fell against his body, happy to let him do the work while you succumbed to his movements.

“Tight little pussy—only cock you need,” he was speaking rhetorically, not posing it as a question or statement for you, per se, but a general agreement spoken into the cockpit that he was certain you would find truth in. “Only cock that’ll ever fit again.”

You felt drool puddle from the corner of your lips, having gone so completely dumb for him.

There was a fire spreading throughout your body, heat licking at your core as it threatened a deluge of bliss.

“Only you, Din,” you mumbled against him, “Please, only you.”

He had resorted to dragging you over him, pulling and pushing your hips over his length and watching his cock split you open. The action ensured that your clit pushed against him, giving you the friction you’d need to reach another high when paired with the stretch of his cock.

“Cum,” his voice had dropped just above a whisper, “Let me feel you squeeze me tight, mesh’la.” He squeezed your hips hard, bucking into you.

You came with a delighted squeal, gripping his shoulders and grinding yourself down into him. He hugged you to his body, further enveloping you, and you felt safe and fulfilled.

His thrusts quickly became more erratic, searching for release. You felt him stiffen against you, not out of discomfort but due to the imminent high he faced.

“Din…Implant,” you whispered, hoping he could hear your voice over the panted breaths you took. “Please. Inside.”

Your words were all it took, and his hips stuttered into you. He moaned, head falling back against the chair and arms hauling you even closer to his body.

You felt the warmth of his spend in your abdomen, painting your walls and filling you with him. You moaned softly, squirming on his lap in a display of contentment.

He brought a hand up to feather through your hair, letting you rest against him as you both settled.

“How do you feel?” He asked, after the silence had become too much even for him.

“So good,” you nuzzled against his pauldron, “You made me feel so good, Din.”

He turned to look down at you. “As good as you thought it would feel?”  

“So much better.”

[p0orbaby]

Indexical Reminder of a Morning Well Spent

i sent a little of this to @wosofutbolfan and it apparently passed the test so here it is

-

The goal was fucking beautiful.

A pure, uncut masterclass in footballing telepathy.

Alexia had barely looked before she whipped the ball into the box. You were already moving, already there, like you had a GPS tracker embedded under your skin, waiting for the exact moment to strike. One touch, a ruthless finish, and the net rippled like it was bowing to your greatness. The crowd went feral. Commentators lost their minds. Pundits called it art.

Now, in the changing room, your teammates are still reeling.

“Okay, but what the actual hell was that?” Mapi demands, pulling off her tape.

Pina shakes her head, throwing a towel over her shoulder. “It’s not normal. You don’t even look at each other. It’s like—like she breathes, and you just know.”

Patri squints at you. “Do you practice that at home?”

Irene folds her arms. “Be honest. Do you two have, like, a shared consciousness?”

Kika points at you. “Are you some kind of footballing hive mind? Because I refuse to believe that was just instinct.”

You stretch out your legs, completely unfazed. “It because we fuck all the time.”

Silence.

Alexia, who had been mid-sip of her water, chokes.

Coughs. Gags. Almost dies.

Mapi slaps the locker and cackles. “That explains a lot.”

Pina’s eyes widen. “Excuse me?”

Patri grips her towel like it’s a seatbelt. “What does that have to do with football?”

You shrug. “Everything.”

Alexia is still spluttering. “No, no, no. Stop.”

You ignore her completely. “When you have sex as often as we do, you develop a kind of… connection.”

Alexia lunges, slamming a hand over your mouth. “Don’t you dare.”

Mapi grins. “Oh, no. She has to.”

Alexia glares at her. “She doesn’t.”

Kika leans forward. “No, I think she should.”

Pina nods, barely suppressing her laughter. “For scientific purposes.”

Patri crosses her arms. “If we’re going to be subjected to your disgusting public displays of on-pitch chemistry, we deserve the full explanation.”

You lick Alexia’s palm.

She yelps and jerks away like she’s been electrocuted.

You wipe your mouth. “As I was saying—”

“No. No,” Alexia pleads.

You continue, unfazed. “I know her body. Every inch of it. The way her muscles shift. The exact moment she tenses before she—”

Alexia actually grabs you. Tries to physically drag you away. “We’re leaving.”

You dodge, side-stepping like you’re evading a stubborn defender. “I just mean, when you’ve had someone clench around your fingers enough times—”

Alexia lunges again.

You bolt, darting around the physio table.

Mapi screams with laughter. “OH MY GOD.”

Kika has tears in her eyes. “Please, keep going. This is the greatest thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

Alexia is desperate. “Stop talking.”

You dodge her again. “It’s pure instinct at this point. Like how I know exactly when she’s about to—”

Alexia dives. Misses.

Pina has collapsed onto the floor. “I cannot breathe.”

Patri is crying. “Make it stop.”

Irene wipes her face. “No, keep going, I need every detail.”

Mapi is wheezing. “Wait, wait, wait—are you saying that every time you score a goal off her pass—”

You smirk. “It’s basically an extension of our sex life, yes.”

Alexia grabs you, shakes you like she’s trying to reset your brain. “You. Are. Deranged.”

You grin. “Fong pretend you don’t love it.”

She shoves you. “I’m not pretending, I loathe it.”

Mapi is practically convulsing with laughter. “You’re telling me every single assist—”

“—is just an echo of last night’s activities? Oh definitely.”

Kika collapses onto the bench. “I need an exorcism.”

Alexia physically hauls you toward the showers. “We are leaving this conversation.”

You plant your feet. “Wait, wait, just let me finish—”

“No.”

“I’m just saying, it’s good motivation, you know? The more I score, the more assists she gets, the better the reward.”

Mapi screeches.

Pina is on the floor.

Patri is pleading with the universe.

Kika throws her water bottle at you. “LEAVE.”

Alexia shoves you through the doorway. “You’re done.”

Mapi wheezes. “This is the best day of my life.”

Alexia looks at the team like she’s asking for divine intervention. “This is the worst day of mine.”

[beloveds-embrace]

Nah, I didn't have a kink for men grovelling (/lie) I have a kink for men suffering. I need reader to have her own happiness

Reader suddenly switches and starts acting more energetic again. For a while the boys like it bc not they don't have to face the consequences of their actions and can escape the guilt if there's no constant reminder.

But something's wrong. It takes them a while to notice - or rather, they take a while to notice BC noticing shatters their illusion that everything is well and they aren't bad people

She's still not eating Johnny's prepared meals but she's gaining weight again and it takes a while to notice BC he's not in charge of stock but some ingredients have been disappearing at nights. Some that can be eaten right away, but funnily enough he also finds himself low on ingredients that need to be prepared. It just so happens that he notices when he makes one of his more easy and filling dishes most all of the ingredients he reaches into are much lower than last time he made it.

She still seems unkempt but her hygiene improves. Her hair is brushed and Gaz hears the showers, though he knows that none of her maids have taken up their duties again. She also still doesn't wear any of her dresses, not that the boys see her enough to notice, but Gaz knows how difficult those are to put on on your own. So when he swears he hears the rustling of fabrics or sees a glimpse of her holding a dress through a crack in the door, even though he knows he saw all her maids elsewhere, he tells himself he just miscounted.

She's more energetic sure, but she's hardly more happy, in fact there seems a determination that borders on desperation to her if anyone watches her for long enough. Not that she lets them. She doesn't leave her room during the day still but once Simon was awake and saw her walking the grounds in the middle of the night. If he had looked again the next night he'd have seen the same, but, well, who wants to face their mistakes

The boys notice, because of their guilt, but choose to ignore. Price, on the other hand, doesn't notice at all

Well, he notices his reputation dwindling. And seeing his wife less and less often. But he doesn't notice any of the changes and doesn't even realise she's began to leave her room again as no rumours change

He does, however, pay attention to his boys.

When Gaz seems jittery at meetings, when Johnny lingers at the table, when Simon stalks the halls more frequently, with the attitude of a predator ready to strike fleeing prey.

So when they tell him they haven't seen her in a while, he's confused. He thought they all hadn't seen her in weeks?

At their explanations - which devolve into pleas - he goes to check up on his wife. Only to find her room empty.

See, she knew she wouldn't have to worry about anyone interrupting her or noticing her, and realised how much of a power that was.

Learning how to cook by spying on the cooks and Johnny, finding little recipe books for when he would leave. Stocking up on food.

Beginning to take care of herself, but only just enough. Dresses that were heavy and difficult forgone in favour of stitching old tablecloths and sheets into simple and freeing garments.

Walking the grounds as much as possible at night to build up her strength again. Background training in dancing and standing with heavy garments for long periods of time helping in building her cardio back up.

She'd had to have a little subtlety in hiding her intentions around the boys, but her real weapon was her husband.

Her husband with an extensive library with books about survival, hunting, wilderness guides. Her husband with plenty of money and expensive items scattered across the place. Her husband with maps and notes of the nearest towns and their prospects and differing prices.

Her blind husband who didn't notice as his wife planned her escape right underneath his nose.

And finally, her. Just her. No husbands or titles or maids or society breathing down her neck. Her, free and already behind a mountain in the distance on the back of a working donkey - the Duchy's fine horses would have gathered too much attention. She stopped for supplies and to sell her goods where possible, but left as quickly as she came, knowing the village folk would write her off as a thief but any who knew would be able to trace where she sold the items. Best to ditch them at her journeys start rather than end.

Not that she knows where it will end. Not that she cares. She could die tomorrow and would still take her last breath more free and happy than she's ever lived before.

(idk maybe she joins some bandits or meets a wandering knight or jumps aboard a ship or something and makes it far far away. Maybe she becomes a stable hand to a Grand Duke and his dashing young right hand man Mr Parra (can you tell my bias). I need her to have a happy end tho, so that if/when the 141 find her they have to realize that she really is better off without them.)

Holy fuck. I’m in awe of you??? Of your brain?? This was amazing to read omg thank you so so much!! You’ve already written so much of her with the 141, so i wrote a little bit of her with rudy! I hope you’ll enjoy this as much as I enjoyed reading your ask! 🫶🏻💕 also i feel like i will never learn how to do a decent ending that isn’t abrupt as fuck 💀😭

Dukedom au masterlist

The sun poured golden light through the arched windows of the estate, its brilliance softened by sheer, embroidered curtains. The atmosphere was serene, the kind that made one’s soul settle into quiet contentment. Seated by the window, harp nestled against your shoulder, you plucked the strings with practiced grace and ease. Music spilled into the room, lilting and wistful, speaking of stories not with words, but with melodies.

Grand Duke Alejandro sat nearby, sharp eyes softened by the rare tranquility your melodies provided.

He had been the first to notice your talents, taking you in when you stumbled upon his estate seeking work. What began as small performances to soothe his guests had blossomed into something more. You were now a cherished member of his court- an artist whose music could bring grown men to tears and whose presence brightened even the darkest days, and your past a thing of, well, the past.

You glanced up briefly, right as Rudy entered the room. His eyes immediately sought yours, like a compass pointing north, a warmth in them that never failed to make your breath catch. He wasn’t the Grand Duke, but he carried himself with a quiet power- a man who commanded loyalty and admiration with ease, especially yours. And though his duties often kept him busy, he always found time to sit and listen to you play even if only once a day, as though your music was as essential to him as the air he breathed.

Never before had you felt so cherished.

Today was no exception to his focus. He lingered by the doorway for a moment, his gaze enthralled, before moving closer to you.

You smiled, the motion soft and genuine, your fingers never faltering on the harp strings even as you leaned towards him the way a flower leans towards the sun.

When you finished, Rudy (and Alejandro) applauded, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile that felt like the first rays of dawn. “You outdo yourself every time, mi querida,” he murmured, his voice low and rich. You felt like you would melt into his should he choose to cradle you.

Alejandro chuckled from his seat, always ever so entertained by the two of you. “You’re lucky I tolerate your interruptions, Rudy. I’d have her play all day to myself if I could.”

Rudolfo grinned but never looked away from you. “A day very well spent, I’d say."

Your cheeks flushed, but there was no embarrassment in it. Just a gentle warmth, the kind you hadn’t felt in years. Rudolfo’s attention wasn’t like John’s distracted glances, Simon’s intense, disdained looks, the unseen glares of Johnny and Kyle. It wasn’t tainted by resentment or obligation. He saw you- truly saw you- and cherished what he found.

You fell into an easy conversation, one Alejandro occasionally joined, though he often just watched with an amused glint in his eyes. It was clear to anyone who observed you that something unspoken yet profound was growing between you and Rudolfo- if not already at full bloom. Alejandro wasn't going to intervene, he knew his friend had a lovely little proposal awaiting just the right moment.

Though not everyone was quite as content as you.

They hadn’t expected to find you so far from the duchy, let alone flourishing like this. The rumors of your presence in the Grand Duke’s court had been thin whispers, barely heard, yet they had clung to them in their desperation for answers.

Price led ahead, his jaw tight and his expression grim. Duke Riley followed close behind, his unease well-hidden. They entered the estate under the guise of seeking an audience with Alejandro, but their true purpose to themselves.

It was Simon who first spotted you through an open doorway, seated at your harp. For a moment, he froze, his breath hitching as he took in the sight of you.

You were radiant. Your hair, no longer a tangled mess, shone in the sunlight. Your once sickly complexion was now warm and healthy. And the way you played- it was as though the music flowed from your very soul, unburdened and free. The few times he'd heard you play back at the Price duchy were nothing compared to the melodies you now strung.

“Bloody hell.” John muttered, his voice barely audible and just as shocked as Simon.

John stepped forward, his presence imposing, but before he could even make his way towards you, Rudolfo appeared beside you. He leaned down to speak to you, his expression gentle and fond, and you laughed- a soft, delicate sound that made Price’s chest tighten.

They watched as Rudolfo offered you his hand, which you took without hesitation, without any fears. He guided you to your feet, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that spoke volumes, more than any words would or could.

The two of you looked at each other with such affection it'd make the stars sigh in envy.

Simon and Price could only stand there and stare. No words would come to them.

Much latwr, when they returned to the manor, Johnny and Kyle were waiting, their expressions anxious. “Did you find her?” Johnny asked, voice tight.

Price nodded slowly, his gaze distant. “We found her.”

“And?” Kyle pressed.

Simon shook his head, lips pursed. “…she’s not coming back.”

[mythalism]

watching sozin's comet pt. 1 and the question of violence against ozai is genuinely so masterfully done. aang's hesitance to use violence by killing ozai isn't presented as an objective moral high ground. in fact, literally every single other character in the show, the other main characters, the past avatars and even yangchen, all tell him: you have to kill this guy. "only justice will bring peace". sokka straight up tells him to get over it and slices a watermelon representing ozai's head in half without remorse. everyone clearly tells him it is not morally wrong for you to end 100 years of violent imperialism with his death. and he doesn't say, "no. it IS morally wrong and im right and we should vote ozai out!", instead he says "but this is not who i am". the message is not that aang should not kill ozai because killing ozai would be wrong, and by extension that fighting imperialism with violence is wrong. instead, its that aang should not kill ozai because it would be a betrayal of himself, his beliefs and of his culture. in refusing to kill ozai and as the last airbender, he is preserving his identity as an air nomad against the title of avatar, something he has struggled with the balance of since the very first episode. and, his refusal to forsake their cultural principals is a form of resistance against the imperialist genocide that cost him his people in the first place. yeah, they had to make it work like this because its a show for 7 year olds. energy-bending is kind of a cop out because it shows up so late with so little explanation. but compared to any other media that has tackled similar issues since.... ive seen nothing nail else it so hard

[glossoholicc]

Gotta regret em' all!

(read bellow for more insight/comments about these!!)

Ouuggghh my GOD the universe did not want me to create these. I started Folly darkrai, then got sick with a nasty cold that I am still recovering from. THEN I get the most painful ear infection ever. The last image was made while I was in physical agony. I cried real tears.

Regardlessss... I really love Pokemon and Regretevator. My brain has been hardwired since the ripe ol' age of 4 to be obsessed with Pokemon. Every fandom I touch I think about trainer AUs or what Pokemon characters would be. So... this was inevitable. Everything I touch becomes Pokemon.

For those only following me for Regretevator, Roblox fandoms yanked me out of my Pokemon branding for everything. Which was good, i think. I used to represent myself with my fave mon, Maractus. Now I am my Roblox avatar. Ripe ol' age of 20 and all I do is roblock. amen.

I wanted to also write an extensive explanation for why EVERY character here is the Pokemon they are. Mostly because I know there will be people disagreeing with me (which is fine), but the goblin in my brain says "nooo people need to understand you 100% all the time". Sooo, here is a horrendously long essay about why I am objectively correct and you should trust me with all Pokemon related content ever (slash silly?). Does a lil' jigggggg.

(Basic Pokemon knowledge may be required to understand these things btw)

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Folly Darkrai

- Obvious reason Folly would be a darkrai is that darkrai represents nightmares. It can cause those its near to have terrible dreams, and its signature move is Dark Void which puts enemies to sleep. Pair this with its ability, Bad Dreams, any opponent on the field that is asleep will take continuous damage.

- Darkrai is also illusive, and feared. It holds a similar energy to Folly. That energy being big bad scary oooo ahh scary.

- Literally the exact same color scheme as Folly. Similar shape language as well (big claws, jagged black bits, big evil eyeball, and a collar)

- Darkrai are interpreted as evil by characters within Pokemon media, but it is canon that they cannot control the nightmare giving aura they have. They can give others nightmares unintentionally, and aren't blood thirsting or villainous by nature. I feel this is a good nod towards Folly being in a similar boat. She can't help the situation she is in, and wasn't born evil.

Design Notes:

- I LOOOVE DARKRAI AND I LOOOVE FOLLY. she needed to be a pokemon I adore.

- The sweater was awkward to add onto her... because darkrai's body is already supposed to be like. a scary cloth. and they are so bulky. but I think I did okay?

- The hat looks awkward but I didn't include it that would have been messed up.

- nothing cool to say about dreamer she is just cutesy and rounder shapes.

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Great One Xerneas

- Xerneas is a legendary Pokemon which represents life. It creates forests with its powers, and it can go into a "dormant" form where it is literally a white tree. Xerneas, and its counterpart, Yveltal, are not represented as inherently "good" or "evil". The whole deal with them is that life and death are a delicate balance that should be respected. I feel this was fitting because Great One is also a god, gave life to Folly, and became corrupt from jealously. Yeah I think that would disturb the natural balance of shit if the god of life got messed up.

- It is literally a big tree deer idk man.

Design Notes:

- I am sooo proud of this design... I think I cooked! Not much to say besides my friend said it looked like a old pokemon creepypasta and that is true.

- Xerneas is so fun to draw but antlers. suck. ewie.

- The drawing on the far right is inspired by that one screenshot.

- Hard to see but on the far right drawing I included the stomach wound. Didn't do it on the other fullbodies though because I forgot oops.

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MR Minior

- Minior is a meteor pokemon which has two forms. In its ability "Shields Down", where it has a rocky, outer shell that protects it until it's HP gets too low. Once it is weakened, it will change into its "Core Form". Which is basically a cute little guy. But MR Minior is trapped in its "Meteor Form". Meteors relate to MR because of the Happy Home Party floor where MR summons meteors yay.

- Minior are very pathetic pokemon, they fall from the stratosphere only to die on earth. I feel this is similar to MR in the way like. MR is dead and pathetic in its currently state. Compared to what it previously was anyways.

- Minior literally descends from the heavens. Something something word play MR dead god blagh blah.

Design Notes:

- Minior already had eye holes on its design, but I used the cracks throughout its body to make the forehead hole and mouth. I think it was done decently well!

- If MR did go into "Core Form" I imagine it would just be whatever Regretevator devs intend MR's living form to be.

- Minior is so cute and round. I think MR is kinda cute in a round plushie squishmallow kind of way.

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Pest Lokix

- Okay this one is purely based off of aesthetic but HEAR ME OUT.

- Lokix is a locust/grasshopper pokemon inspired by Kamen Rider, a japanese superhero franchise. Multiple characters in Kamen Rider have grasshopper/bug motifs. Pest is Japanese and also a bug. Ive connected the dots so good.

- Lokix is the first ever bug/dark type, and Pest would definitely being this typo combo.

- Idk guys just trust me okay

Design Notes:

- LOOOOK I KNOWWW. Pest is a beetle. Heracross is right there. BUT Heracross doesn't give PEST. Heracross is a round little blue guy and Pest is a weird little freak. Heracross doesn't hold the same intimidating aura as Lokix. And the other beetle pokemon, Rellor and Rabsca, are even further off the mark.

- I thought I was so clever having the antennae form mandible shapes.

- I love Lokix so much. Pest gets to be one of my faves as a treat.

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Poob Pikachu

- Pikachu is the mascot for Pokemon, and Poob is the mascot for Regretevator! In a way, Poob is in a lot of promotional regretevator material.

- Very similar color pallet and vibes. The vibes being "little guy".

- Something could be said for pikachu being an electric type. In the pokemon franchise, electric types are typically associated with being "wild" and "fun". Poob is electric! Personality wise. And Poob would totally hook themselves up to shit they shouldn't.

- Social butterfly, Poob gets their energy from parties. Just like how Pikachu is shown to be able to absorb electricity and shit.

- Just cute. Thats it. Cute marketable guy.

Design Notes:

- I really like what I did with the ears on this. I like them being droopy... because of the hat.

- Poob's goofy little face looks natural on a Pikachus face, I think. Awesome sauce.

- I made the tail tip a half star shape because A: Poob genderless B: Party hat has stars. For those who dont know, pikachu have different tail tip shapes based on gender. Poobs gender is party!

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Pilby Caterpie

- Guys do I need to explain this one.

- Caterpie is a caterpillar. A green one! Pilby is also a green caterpillar.

- Pilby and caterpie have eyes meant to cry. That one clip from the anime where caterpie has watery wet eyes is Pilby.

- Caterpie is a small little thing and Pilby is also a small little thang.

Design Notes:

- I made the little horn in the front the color of their hair because I didn't want to add even more clutter to the face.

- Headcanon that happy Pilby sways/wags their tail when happy. So caterpie pilby gets to wiggle their tail in happiness too.

- hungry hungry caterpillar.

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Mach Tinkaton

- Tinktaton is a pokemon that wields a massive hammer, and beats others to death with it. Its hammer weighs over 200 lbs in canon, and Mach would totally be able to lift that weight. If not more.

- Tinkaton is also an exclusively female pokemon. Mach is a woman. Shrugs.

- Not much to say!!!! Big woman big hammer.

Design Notes:

- I think I made her look UGLY. I don't know what I like about my design. I guess the pose on the fullbody is sick af.

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Infected Cubchoo

- I quite literally only did this for the aesthetic of the snot droplet. Thats it.

Design Notes:

- For some reason the regretevator wiki doesn't have a close up of the left side of Infecteds hat, only the right side. This made it difficult for me to draw the blue bunny.

- I contemplated adding hair at all. I decided to do so because Infected is one of the rare few haired characters. You can keep your hair. For now.

- I was contemplating Grafaiai as well, but I decided going the snot droplet route was better. But Grafaiai still works really well for Infected IMO.

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Bive Absol

- Absols can uhmm.. ughh. Predict future events such as Natural disasters with their powers. So I think she would do this but her future predicting shit sucks. And she is paranoid from Absol related intuition.

- That's basically the only reason I thought of, but Bive is a simple character in concept so thats okay.

Design Notes:

- Freak woman Bive I love you.

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That's all ty for reading I'm so tired goodnight