#like they did think it through and and organized key points. and i think being shorter did benefit the development of some relationships

[catboybiologist]

half baked morning rant

I do want to make it clear that the reason I talk about HRT and its biological effects so much is not because HRT or medicalization defines your gender.

Its because, for me personally, the interface of my biology education and my transition was mostly centered around figuring out what sex hormones do. I learned about basic biology principles like DNA organization, gene regulation, cell biology, and physiology in high school and undergrad. Taking that understanding and extending it to the mechanisms that hormones use to change gene regulation, and by extension, the rest of your body broadly, was something I did as my understanding became more complete in later undergrad and grad school. It was the key to me starting my own transition.

Why?

Because it was the first time I realized that the "basic biology" arguments of transphobes were complete and utter bullshit. From that point, it was a cascade. As in, wait, if dynamic changes in gene expression aren't considered "biological" to them, then why am I believing anything they say about anything else? When they talk about gametes, and try to include infertile cis people in their definitions of biological sex by talking about what gamete you're "intended" to make, what do they even mean? Why does my current gene expression not define that "intent"? And wait, back up, why is the brain suddenly not considered part of our biology? Why are neurological differences suddenly not "biological"? Why can we say someone's thinking patterns aren't "biological"?

Backing up even further, why does any of this matter more than psychological gender, or sociological gender? If the way we navigate society is gendered, that affects a lot of our lives, and we're just throwing that away?

Basically, being educated about how deep the biological changes of HRT really go was the first domino to fall when I worked through my internalized transphobia.

This is one of many reasons why I hate, hate HATE the concession that uninformed allies and even many trans people themselves give: "well NO ONE is saying that you can change your biological sex, sex and gender are completely unrelated, sex is binary and gender isn't!!!!!"

Well. I am saying that you can change your "biological" sex, I am saying that biological sex isn't binary, and I am saying that misunderstanding of those points has set back transgender advocacy. It makes medical decisions surrounding us less informed, it poisons conversations about how we interact with society, and it makes trans people feel like their gender and sex are less "real" than cis people's.

Not to mention the horrific way it discards intersex people from the conversation entirely.

Recently, I've seen this point enter the mainstream a little, by using intersex people and variation of sex in other species as a "counterargument" to "binary biological sex" thinking. It still doesn't sit right with me. One, because it uses intersex people as a prop for trans advocacy while not actually addressing the needs of either group. And two, because it completely disregards that your current biology and physiology is not 100% predestined from birth, and using people who were "born this way" as a prop does absolutely nothing to increase people's acceptance of trans people who change their biology later in life.

Ugh. This got away from me but yeah. That's my sipping coffee ramble for this morning. If anyone wants to add comment or correct me on discourse here, please do. Especially if you're intersex- this is all the observations of a perisex trans woman.

[earthsparked]

I want the Cybertronians to see us using our teeth on our every day life, like opening a bag of chips or just biting that itchy spot on our arm, bet those bots will be alarmed

Anon, you must be in my brain, because I caught myself doing this the other day with a bag of cashews and wondered the same thing. It's such a little thing that we don't even really think about. You have teeth, of course you're going to tear open a stubborn piece of packaging. Why get scissors or a knife? You have built-in equipment for this.

In the wider scheme of things, our teeth are not particularly impressive compared to some mammals. Even compared to other apes. We're omnivores, not full-on carnivores designed to kill things with our mouths. We have pretty good jaw pressure and can bite in aggression or self-defense, but it's considered kind of a dirty way of fighting to the point that "no biting" is used as a joke, and when it actually happens, it ends up being notable. i.e., George Foreman's famous ear chomp. Or how young kids sometimes bite and have to be socialized into, y'know, not doing that because it's not proper. There's something edging on the animalistic about using your mouth for things like that, or at least the society I was raised in seems to find it so.

I was reading that there's evidence that early humans used their teeth as tools more commonly, before we developed tools that served that purpose and protected our teeth. We moved past needing to use our teeth for anything but chewing, with our use of tools. We have weapons for defense or attack, we have ways of dispatching prey, we have scissors and knives for opening packages. Outside of eating, we mostly use our teeth for social signaling (smiling) and for making certain sounds while speaking, apparently.

But we still sometimes just find it easier to use our teeth. It's like a teeny-tiny throwback to a past we don't even remember. Just making do with what we have. I saw one story from NOVA that suggested we use our mouths as a "third hand" also, when we're doing complicated tasks and need to hold something. Like having bobby pins in your mouth while doing hair, holding something in your teeth while you're juggling your keys to open a door, anime running to class with a piece of toast, etc.

All that said, I can imagine some mixed reactions from mechs seeing us do that for the first time. You have this very civilized person who looks a lot like a mech, acts a lot like a mech, is very relatable despite being a wet and sloshy little organic. Only for you to suddenly turn around and remind them, as a previous person mentioned, you're an animal actually. Doing something that your ancient ancestors did on a regular basis. You don't have to, but you can, and why bother getting up to get the scissors?

Some of them might be startled, others might just see it as "well yeah, they're organics, what do you expect." Because I don't think they would have ever actually had a need to use their teeth (dentae) for any of the uses an organic would? They don't need to kill with their teeth for energon. They don't need to chew to get nutrients. Biting other mechs would be inadvisable and a poor strategy for doing damage.

The 'cons, though, would be awfully surprised to find you've chewed through the rope they tied around your wrists, have broken loose, and are busy taking their ship apart.

[lightsoutmatthews]

hi girly I am soooo in my feels right now. Can you please do willy styles taking care of reader during her period. like she’s at his apt and needs tampons and he feels embarrassed buying them but does anyway for her because he loves her hehehe thank you <3

As much as I tried to write it as him being embarrassed by buying tampons I couldn´t do it too much because I just can´t see our idgaf war veteran being bothered by something like that 🫣 I hope you like it anyways 😭

Man on a Mission – William Nylander

The cramps started when you were halfway through the movie. One second you were curled up against William, warm under the blanket, you head resting on his chest. The next, a sharp, deep tug rolled through your lower stomach like a warning bell.

You shifted with a quiet groan.

William looked down, his hand pausing where it was rubbing lazy circles over your back. “You okay?”

You nodded instinctively, trying to push past it. “Yeah, just cramps.”

His brows drew together, like he was already trying to fix it. “Do you want some painkillers? Tea? Something else?”

His worry made you feel warm inside. “I´ll take some ibuprofen,” you said, pushing the blanket off your legs, slowly getting out of his hold. You stood, and that’s when you felt it. The sudden, dreaded wetness. Not a ton but enough to notice.

Shit.

You blinked and stood still for a second. Then you slowly turned back toward him. “Uhm. I think I just got my period.”

William blinked. “Like…just now?”

You gave him a look and sighed. “Yeah. Just now. I don’t even have anything with me. No tampons or pads or anything.”

William straightened a bit on the bench. “Do you want to run to a store real quick?”

You looked down at your black leggings, grateful for the color, but still aware of how unprepared you were. “I don’t really want to walk around like this.”

He nodded immediately. “Okay, I´ll go.”

You blinked in surprise. “Wait. Really?”

“Yeah, obviously.” He was already standing and reaching for the hoodie draped over the back of the couch like it was nothing. “Text me the brand you want?”

“You really don’t mind?” you asked carefully.

He paused for a split second, hand on the doorframe. “No,” he shrugged. “I mean, I´d rather you not sit here uncomfortable or bleeding through my couch.”

That made you laugh but made the cramps worse in the same motion.

“Text me what kind,” he repeated, grabbing his keys.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely.

He grinned; the kind of grin that always made you feel stupid in love. “What else are boyfriends for?”

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

William stood in the middle of the pharmacy aisle, staring at a wall of pastel boxes.

There were more tampon options than he ever thought were possible. Tampons with applicators, others without. Super, regular, light, combo packs. Organic cotton. Unscented. Scented? He didn’t even know that was a thing.

He pulled out his phone and re-read you text.

Älskling: U by Kotex, regular, purple box

Älskling: if they don’t have that, Playtex Sport in the pink box. Thx babe 🥰

Okay. Sounded simple enough.

Except there were three purple boxes. Were they all regular? One said “Click”. What did that mean? One was “Security”. That sounded like a bank product. Another one said “FitFlex”.

He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around. There was an older woman down the aisle, clearly avoiding him.

He started reaching for a box when a young clerk walked by. William caught him.

“Hey, man, quick question. These are all regular?” he asked, pointing at the boxes.

The clerk glanced at him, then the wall of products, then back at Williams clearly confused face. “Uhh. I think so? Not totally sure.”

William sighed. “Alright. Thanks anyways.”

He picked up the purple box labeled U by Kotex Click – Regular and looked at the fine print. To others it might looked weird that he was standing in the middle of the aisle reading that and heat might even rose a little in his cheeks as the older woman walked past him, shaking her head but he wanted to get it right.

He added a backup box of the Playtex Sport ones too, just in case and then, almost on instinct, he threw a chocolate bar, a heating pad, and a small bottle of Advil into the basket too.

At the checkout, the teenage girl ringing him up raised an eyebrow at the stack. “Girlfriend?” she asked with a half-smirk.

“Yeah,” he said.

“She´s lucky.”

He chuckled. “I´m the lucky one.”

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

You were curled up on the couch with the dogs keeping you company when he came back in, grocery bag dangling from his wrist.

He dropped it in front of you gently. “I wasn’t sure which ones exactly, so I got both. Also, more painkillers and chocolate. Oh, and a heat thing.”

You stared at him. “Did you rob a period aisle?”

“I might have panicked a little, even scared off an old lady,” he admitted.

You laughed and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You did good.”

He looked relieved. “That aisle is terrifying.”

“You get used to it,” you mumbled absentmindedly, digging through the bag. “Thank you. Seriously.”

William sat back down, watching as you padded to the bathroom. When you came back, dressed in a sweatsuit stolen from his closet, you looked ten times more comfortable

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yeah. Way better.”

He lifted the blanket, nudging Pablo out of the way in the process. “C´mere.”

You crawled back under, sighing as your body curled against his side again. “Do you want the heating pad now or later?”

“Later. I just want to lay here for a while.”

He nodded, one hand finding your hair and combing through it slowly while your head rested on his chest.

“Hey,” he said after a bit.”

“Hmm?” you mumbled.

“Is there, like… anything else I should be doing? During this?”

You looked up at him, touched at his concern. “You´re doing everything already.”

He looked relieved again, but then thoughtful. “Do some girls get like… super emotional during this? Or is that just a movie thing?”

You shrugged. “Depends. Hormones are different for everyone. Sometimes I cry over nothing. Sometimes I get super irritated. It´s not predictable.”

“If you randomly cry, should I leave you alone?” he asked genuinely.

“Honestly? Just hold me and let me cry.”

He nodded seriously. “Consider it done.”

You studied his face, the concern, the quiet intensity of wanting to do it right by you. “You´re really sweet, you know.”

He gave a half-smile. “You´re bleeding from your uterus and still manage to be polite. That´s way more impressive.”

You snorted. “Don’t romanticize this. It´s gross.” Or at least that was what your last boyfriend told you.

“Not gross,” he said seriously. “It´s normal, even though it´s like you´re surviving a horror movie every month.”

“I mean, basically,” you chuckled.

He looked at you for a long moment, then pulled you closer, like he needed you as close as possible.

“I think you should have a punch card. Every ten periods, you get a spa day.”

“I´d love that,” you laughed.

He looked pleased. “Perfect, I´ll sponsor it.”

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

Later that evening William had made dinner, well, William had ordered dinner. He let you choose what you wanted to eat and what you wanted to watch even when you picked a reality tv show he pretended to hate.

When your cramps came back stronger, he set up the heating pad without you asking and held it in place against your stomach while you half-dozed on his chest.

At one point you woke up from a short nap and found him scrolling on his phone. “What are you doing?” you asked quietly, voice still heavy with sleep.

“Looking up how to help during periods.”

You blinked at him, warmth spreading in your chest. “You googled it?”

“I didn’t want to be a dumbass about it.”

You smiled so hard your cheeks slowly started to hurt.

He kept reading aloud. “Says here back rubs can help.” You immediately turned onto your side. “Say less.”

He chuckled and shifted behind you, hands working gently along your lower back. “How´s that?”

“Heaven.”

“I´m a certified period doula now.”

“You´re ridiculous,” you chuckled.

“But helpful.”

You turned just enough so you could capture his lips in a soft kiss. “Very.”

[icycoldninja]

Hi Ninja I hope you're doing well!

I want to make an NSFW request involving the DMC Boys + V with a shy reader bUTTT The reader is a praiser during the Devil's tango

Like they(Reader) just feels fuzzy from all the seggz where the reader accidentally slips out a "You're doing good"/"Good boy"/"You feel so nice in me" during the tango

Mainly praises, and the boys go "OH?" *seggz intensifies* (you can go all out on this one, Ninja!) LOL ANYWAY--

Cuz like, they didn't expect this from the reader, I guess? And they (depending which of the dmc boys we r talking about) may have gotten caught off guard from that because they were expecting the reader to just be shy during *it* as well.

Please take your time! I really love your stories and headcannons! (I hope nobody has made this request before. If so, Im sorry! You can ignore this!!)

No one has made a request like this before. (unless I forgot and if i did my apologies) thank you and enjoy!

Sparda boys + V x Shy!Praiser!Reader NSFW headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante is used to you being quite quiet during sex, hardly ever uttering coherent words, (though that might be because of him) so when you started praising him, it was a pleasant surprise.

-You were just feeling so good with Dante's thick, throbbing cock deep inside you, you couldn't help but whimper out a few words of praise towards him.

-"Danteee~, you feel so, so good inside me..."

-In response to your words, Dante Triggered. You felt a sudden surge of warmth, followed by a hot, hard thing pressing against your cervix. Dante's fiery demon dice was warming and mashing up your insides--God, did it feel amazing.

-You came so many times, you even lost consciousness for a few moments.

-Dante kept on going though, all because he wanted to hear you praise him more.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil is pretty used to you being shy all the time, so naturally, he expected you to act the same way during sex.

-And you kinda were, key word: "kinda".

-At some point, you decided to stop squealing in pleasure and instead praise your boy a little, not realizing what you said until you'd said it.

-"You're doing so good--feels so good--ahh~..."

-Vergil's first thought was, pfft, like you need to tell me that. His second thought was, well, since you enjoy it so much, why don't I up the ante?

-And that is the story of how your organs got absolutely destroyed, your cervix pulverized, and your pelvic area in general obliterated because Vergil Triggered inside you and wouldn't stop pounding until he passed out. You walked with a cane for 2 weeks.

□ Nero □

-Nero doesn't really mind that you're so shy, he thinks it's cute.

-What's even cuter is how you whimper and hide your face while he's rutting into you.

-When you randomly burst out with a bit of praise, Nero was 1% surprised, 99% more turned on.

-"Neeerooo--you're amazing! Aah~! Amazing!"

-Of course, the only gentlemanly thing to do in this situation was to fuck you even harder than he was before, putting all hid energy into his hips to the point that he actually zoned out and lost awareness of his surroundings.

-You definitely woke your neighbors up with how loud you were being; thankfully no one filed any complaints.

● V ●

-V cannot help but chuckle a little at how adorably shy you are.

-Not like he has much room to talk--he hardly talks at all.

-Hearing you praise him was a welcome surprise, though. There was something about the way you whined his single letter long name that just sent fire coursing through him.

-"Good boy! V...you're such a good--good boy!"

-V wants more praise. He craves more praise. He finds his fingers traveling down to your clit, rubbing circles into it faster than you've ever felt before.

-Before you know it, your back is arched, your eyes are rolling back, your tongue lolls out, and you have the most intense orgasm of your life--the first of several that you will have to endure tonight.

[theheartmold]

The Wigmaker Job

Notes and Thoughts - Part 1

pt1 | pt2 | pt3 | pt4 | pt5 | pt6 | pt7 (FINAL)

This quickly grew out of hand so this is only covering the first scene lol. This is my attempt to organize my thoughts nearly line-by-line as I go through and analyze the relationship between Lucanis and Illario. These are my personal opinions and I'm open to discussion about any points I present here.

From the first time we are introduced to Illario from Lucanis's perspective, it is… almost derogatory? (dressed how an Antivan would think a Vint would dress). i thought you trusted him to handle this job at a party?

"it's a job" / "a party at a job" / "any excuse to primp" ← This back and forth feels natural between siblings (or those who have a sibling relationship) but with wider context feels… a little icky

Already, Illario is disparaging himself in relation to Lucanis ("Only 'the Great Lucanis Dellamorte' could refuse a summons from the First Talon") and even he says he's only here because Lucanis asked him to be. why bring him if you ostensibly don't trust him to handle the job? Lucanis's inner pov is different from how he speaks to and acts with Illario.

of course Illario is generally thick-skinned until it comes to Caterina. so are you. she's abused you both and treats Illario undoubtedly worse because he's not the favorite.

re: Caterina's abuse as listed. no food or water. beat them with her cane until their backs were scarred for 'letting their guard down' or 'fumbling footwork'. Lucanis says she "beat into him his commitment to his contracts" (re: veilguard banter where he didn't kill that 14 year old. lying? or proof of further favoritism?)

"For years, he'd hated her…" and then goes on to say that he'd learned that her cruelty was her way of ensuring their survival. Notably this isn't forgiveness but an acknowledgment of what she'd done and how it benefited them as assassins, which I would argue that it did. Child abuse is bad but I think she did prepare them both for the world they were being raised into as assassins.

"Beneath the bitterness in Illario's tone was something rotten." ← KEY LINE TO ME. Why point out how rotten it is unless he… already suspected Illario's resentment? Jealousy? He can identify the bitterness bc Caterina won't step aside, but also. ROTTEN.

"your time will come" / "will it?" ← Lucanis watching Illario watch him in the mirror. Really interesting moment because this is where Illario reminds him that Lucanis is the favorite. Lucanis goes on to say that he KNOWS this and has HEARD the rumors and still tries to assure Illario that his time would come.

"So, if she named you heir to House Dellamorte, you'd refuse?" ← really interesting thing to note here is that Illario is asking about being named as HEIR. Lucanis doesn't answer, they're interrupted, but "heir" doesn't hold the same weight as 'first talon".

they're not arguing who gets the role, they're arguing over who is even in line for it? so you mean to tell me that Caterina has been stringing them along like this… the whole time? Just name a fucking heir for fucks sake. the older one at least! if this was set up from childhood there would be way less room for jealousy and competition, or it would at least be clear WHO would be in line.. that being said I do believe she either did this on purpose. There's just no other excuse. Caterina what if you died the next day. they'd still have to fucking fight it out! (or maybe Lucanis would finally feel brave enough to absolve himself).

maybe that's it though? it's a test right? this whole fucking thing…. man.

"Illario's pretty-boy mask slipped as a coldness flooded his features." ← would have loved to see more of this in Veilguard. Regardless of whether you think Illario's writing is consistent between the books and the game, you're kidding yourself if you tell me he wasn't written operatically obvious in Veilguard. here there is more of a level of calculation and concealment? unless you want me to believe that his behavior was obvious to everyone except Lucanis… not discounting that reading of their relationship, just disagreeing with it personally.

Skipping ahead in to the fight scene, we see that Lucanis is living up to his name as the Mage-Killer as he pretty handily dispatches their assailant. Illario takes on more of the charmer role, tying up the mage—but then Lucanis immediately kills him. Why even let Illario do all of that work if you're just going to kill him?!

He even comments on it. "If I'd known you were just going to kill him, I wouldn't've put so much effort into the knots." ← Lucanis tells him after this to check his pockets and finds a note that does, admittedly, reveal the Venatori allegiance. That being said… you still could've killed him and got the same note. Unless it was just because he was a mage? But he was already dazed at that point. Why waste the time?! It's so maddening. This is the first of many instances where Lucanis sort of… bulldozes over Illario.

As Lucanis is removing the blade—"Careful, remember the tanner job? You ruined my best shirt." Kind of prissy behavior (Illario takes two steps back away from the blood), but when his cousin protests, Lucanis just… smirks and continues to extract the blade. If I'm reading this generously it could be simple sibling-esque banter, but Lucanis is not the sort to be readily endearing himself to Illario at any point.

Illario remarks that the Venatori's fanaticism re: nationalism and theology regarding the Black City isn't "worth it" (so he doesn't like the Venatori much either, mark that down?).

Lucanis says that it's because Illario isn't "a true believer—except when it comes to coin". My first thought is to think of Zara Renata's corpse conversation in Veilguard when she remarks that what Illario wanted, he wanted more than power, family, coin, etc etc.

So Lucanis's perception is that Illario is the sort of man who'd do anything for money (as the House of Crows is KNOWN TO DO, YOU KILL PEOPLE. FOR MONEY), and it matches up with his opinions previously established in regards to Illario's dress, motivations, mannerisms, etc. That Illario is… kind of a pretty-boy charmer who is only worried about coin and good clothes.

Hm. All bodes well on the Cain & Abel front.

RE: the true believer statement. Worth pointing out that the House of Crows was first established by Andrastian monks in the hills outside of Treviso; they assassinated a duke. Would love to have learned more as to whether there was more religious influences in the guild at any point.

Quotes are either paraphrased or taken directly from The Wigmaker Job, written by Courtney Woods.

[teaboot]

Hey! Bamboo toilet paper person here. Your response was very thoughtful-- I want to apologize for placing the onus of climate issues on individual action, haha. I work at a zoo that bills itself as being very heavy on conservation messaging, but as a non-partisan organization we're obviously not allowed to talk about the evils of capitalism. This means that in our programming, we MUST place the responsibility of stopping climate change on individual guests, encouraging them to make more environmentally conscientious decisions like buying reef safe sunscreen or reducing carbon emissions by driving less. The most "political" we're allowed to get is telling people to stay educated and vote in favor of laws that will have a positive impact on the environment. I think I've been drinking the Zoolaid a little TOO much recently, because you're totally right-- the vast, VAST majority of damage to the environment is caused by major corporations, not random people working around their own unique needs. It was also low key a little ableist of me to take issue with that ngl.

Obviously no obligation to respond to this publicly (though it's fine if you choose to do so), but I did want to thank you for your response and mention that it did get through the nonprofit mission-based-organization propaganda living rent free in my head haha. Cheers!

Hey, you work at a zoo? That is SO cool, aadsdggjjg@!!!

And hey, no worries, you totally had a good point about endless waste and trying to counter it where possible- Just from personal experience involved in the barest edge of the fashion industry, I really, really, REALLY hate the idea that, like... people can't access simple shit like plastic straws, even if they're the best, most practical, least-harmful option for them.... because a 12 year old made up some random number for a school project about plastic waste

Where, as a zoo person, I imagine you're already aware that the average sea turtle is WILDLY more likely to die from abandoned plastic fishing nets or ocean-dump grocery bags than accidentally get a straw inside it

So here we are, using paper straws!- which may be an improvement, or may not, I don't have that data, and construction emissions are their own thing- BUT WE STILL HAVE OCEANS FULL OF ABANDONED NETS

WHICH ARE OBJECTIVELY WORSE, but MUCH harder to get rid of, and as the average person doesn't USE fishing nets, it'd much harder to market as a "You, not me" sort of issue.

Cleaning up fishing nets isn't trendy. It isn't sexy. You can't troubleshoot a cute little trendy solution for it that you can market to upwardly-mobile tweens.

But a reusable water bottle? A cute canvas tote? A metal straw? That's a solution you can buy and feel good about.

Never mind that you need to use a single cotton reusable bag somewhere like a million times before the cost of its construction counterbalances the cost of a single grocery bag every time you shop- which, hey, some of us were reusing as trash liners for their wastebaskets, or bundle bags for donating clothes, or lining for our leaky winter boots!

If a better option is available, I'll take it. But as ZERO HARM is next to impossible at this time, I personally am gonna aim for MINIMAL HARM as long as I can.

...sorry, I didn't mean to ramble off again.

But hey, if your nonprofit is doing good things, feel free to shoot me a link! I can post it on my blog :D

(Link to original post for context lol)

[michanvalentine]

I was mentioned in a pro-Ascendant Astarion post with this quote: "Astarion does not have a well-developed sense of self, and by default, he also lacks many of the skills that a well-adjusted adult should possess." This is the post it’s taken from: click me!

No problem at all—it's public, and I don’t see why anyone shouldn’t reference it. Naturally, the post was in opposition to that statement—generally speaking, I mean—but that’s fine too. Everyone has their own opinion and is free to express it. That’s not the point of my upcoming ramble! xD

It’s just that rereading my own words got me thinking more deeply about the topic and made me want to explore it further.

Now, I’m not a psychologist, but I did study psychology. I took several exams at university and I actually did pretty well, lol. I didn’t complete my studies because life took me elsewhere—most importantly, my daughter was born—but the general knowledge I gained from psychology still follows me in everything I do every day.

So it’s second nature for me to analyze characters from the media I consume through that lens—Astarion included. Of course, this is just my perspective; I can’t say for certain whether the developers intended this for his character or whether they did specific research into his psychological development.

That said, today I feel like going off on a little tangent about this beautiful science. Still in reference to that heart-stealing vampire spawn that I’m aaaaabsolutely not obsessed with.

Let me also add a disclaimer. The concepts mentioned are just examples and cannot be applied literally, as every person is different and reacts differently to situations and stimuli. Likewise, the brain is plastic—neural connections change and adapt, and there is almost never a fixed or definitive condition. Above all, I’m not making any kind of diagnosis! That’s not within my competence! Keep these ideas well in mind!

So, why do I say that Astarion doesn’t have a well-developed sense of self? Let’s take it step by step and talk a little about the concept of the "self". I'm copy-pasting something from another post, lol. Rewriting it from scratch is too much work! xP

The self is quite a complex concept with many facets. Briefly put, it’s shaped by various internal and external factors and reflects a conscious image of "me." In psychology, it’s key to building the Ego of an individual—the capacity to act, understand, organize, and interpret experiences. The Ego provides a sense of uniqueness, coherence, and personal continuity since the self encompasses many "faces." All this forms the personality of an individual, which naturally develops (and changes) throughout life.

Particular attention in the formation of the self is given to sensitive periods, such as early childhood. The self determines the level of self-esteem based on an individual’s assessment of their worth and competence in the characteristics they attribute to themselves (Real Self), their future aspirations (Ideal Self), and what they want to avoid (Feared Selves). The greater the discrepancy between these aspects, the lower the level of self-esteem. Social support and approval, as well as competence in domains deemed important to the self, obviously contribute to perceiving oneself as a person of value.

Astarion, as we know, has had his sense of self fundamentally undermined. For him, the world is divided between those who have power and those who don’t, with the former always being the "winners" in his eyes. The magistrate he once was is long dead, along with his moral compass and the life he used to live—especially after 200 years of servitude to Cazador.

As vampire spawn, akin to a newborn in some respects, Astarion learned to exist solely within Cazador’s world, revolving around Cazador, for Cazador.

There are lines of dialogue within the game that highlight this in a painful and terrifying way. For example, when Tav/Durge directly confronts Cazador, or when Cazador ends up on his knees in front of Astarion after one of his brothers or sisters dies during the ritual. Cazador says: “He [Astarion] is afraid. He’s afraid because all he has ever knows is you and me. And without us, he is nothing.” Or: “And then? What will you be without me? A shade? A specrte in the shadows, devoid of all purpose.”

It’s a terrible thing, but it’s true. Cazador represents everything—Astarion’s entire world—and when he dies, he leaves behind a void that’s even more frightening. And let’s not forget that, in the real world, it takes very little to completely erase a person—and two hundred years in the hands of an abuser is an overwhelming amount of time, a detail that too often gets underestimated or completely forgotten.

The whole matter becomes even more disturbing and painful when Cazador suggests that without Tav/Durge, Astarion would have come crawling back to him with his tail between his legs. To his fucking tormentor. And sadly, it's a painful concept because it really happens in real life—when you have nothing and no one, when you have no means of your own and are completely dependent on another person, no matter how terrifying they are. Cazador is certain that Astarion will return to him, even if it means dying. And it's a concept with a devastating impact.

So Cazador was the domineering father figure, and vampire society functions under strict rules handed down by vampire lords. In this hostile context, without any room for self-expression or choice, Astarion developed a fragmented and damaged self-image. Constantly belittled by Cazador as an individual (small, weak, useless, incapable, all words he uses in the game), always pitted against his brothers and sisters, and degraded from a magistrate to a prostitute (this is important because it’s the only skill—or "talent," as he calls it himself—that Astarion believes gives him any value or power, forming the basis for his self-image). It’s easy to imagine just how high his self-esteem must be, right? Most importantly, he never developed the skills to navigate life as a free individual—at least not in a healthy way.

Good Lord, he thinks that in order to receive support, he has to sell himself to Tav/Durge and offer his sexual services—otherwise, he has no hope of survival! And that’s why I say he doesn’t possess all the skills of a well-adjusted adult. Other glaring examples of this—so glaring they hit you like a punch in the eye—are his inability to say no and to recognize his own limits. And shall we talk about the infamous question: What do you want? The first time, he deflects, and essentially gives the answer the player wants to hear. The second time, he states it plainly: he doesn't know. He doesn't know how to make decisions, he hasn’t done it in 200 years, and the very idea terrifies him to his core. These are all skills that a well-balanced person possesses—let’s not kid ourselves.

Like any mature and well-balanced adult, one knows how to recognize their feelings, define them, communicate them, and most importantly, not fear them. Astarion, on the other hand, is unable—after 200 years of pure shit—to understand what he feels for Tav/Durge, and he won’t be able to until the end of the Pale Elf’s quest. “I don’t know—but isn’t it nice, not to know? You’re not a target, nor a victim, not just one night it's better to forget. But then... whatever in the world could you be?”

So, even if reluctantly (and despite his fear), he ends up leaning on Tav/Durge. He needs a guiding figure to help him figure out what to do because making decisions and acting independently don’t come naturally to him. Especially outside of his talents, sex and survival. He needs to be rehabilitated, re-educated, and to achieve this, he requires a safe and healthy environment where he can experiment and grow, perhaps developing other faces of the self on which to base a new evaluation. Like, I'm not just a slave or a whore: but I'm also a companion, a friend, a lover, a hero and I'm able to listen, to help, to learn, to collaborate, etc.

And let’s not forget that when the fateful confrontation with Cazador is brought up, Astarion explicitly asks Tav/Durge for help. “I need to take the fight to him. And I need you to help me,” he says. How to help him—whether to ascend or not—is up to the player and how they choose to play. But the fact remains: Astarion needs support.

Meanwhile let’s take a look at some of the consequences of low self-esteem:

Difficulty opening up in social settings and communicating one's emotions and needs

Extreme self-criticism

Devaluing or ignoring one’s own qualities

Tendency to constantly apologize and feel guilty for things that are not actually one's responsibility

Tendency to appease others due to perceiving oneself as inferior to one’s peers

Use of negative words to describe oneself

Difficulty making decisions and maintaining personal goals over time

Negative and self-blaming internal dialogue

Belief that success is due to luck, with difficulty attributing accomplishments to oneself

Not believing compliments that are given to them

And now, let’s look at the most common causes for the development of low self-esteem:

Being raised by extremely critical and demanding parents

Being heavily devalued by parents or other authority figures

Being ignored or ridiculed during childhood

Being a victim of physical, sexual, or psychological abuse

Achieving poor academic results

Experiencing episodes of bullying or mistreatment in the workplace

Suffering a financial collapse or a significant breakup

Being subjected to a prolonged period of stress

Suffering from a chronic and persistent medical condition

Suffering from psychological disorders (e.g., anxiety or depression)

Does this remind you of something? Or maybe someone in particular? Does that person, by any chance, have red eyes and pointed teeth?

Naturally, these are just examples, and everything varies depending on the individual, but I believe these points still manage to convey the concept.

They especially give the idea of how much events—and especially the context in which we live—impact our psyche. For example, thanks to neuroscience and increasingly detailed brain imaging, we know that brain areas change according to the factors mentioned above; they train like muscles, so to speak, becoming larger and more reactive every time they are activated.

So, if someone is subjected to chronic stress, the brain areas responsible for managing it will become easily activated, bringing with them a whole series of consequences that affect performance, behavior, perception, thinking, and so on.

Likewise, the more the “right” areas of the brain are activated, the more the brain itself will develop in a healthy and balanced way, forming neural connections that support the tools (perception, thinking, etc) mentioned above.

Meanwhile, other areas—such as those related to stress responses—will remain small and more difficult to activate. (Obviously, brain areas don’t literally “grow” or “shrink” in size, but the connections between neurons (synapses) are strengthened or weakened depending on how much they’re used. This is a principle known as “neural plasticity”: what you use becomes reinforced, what you neglect becomes weaker.)

A curiosity: even our mood influences how we perceive people and the world around us—and consequently, our thoughts and impressions too! xD

This image is heartbreaking, because these brains belong to two three-year-old children—and the differences are significant.

The brain on the right is missing key areas that are present in the one on the left. These missing parts impact the abilities of the child with the smaller brain:

this child will likely be less intelligent as an adult compared to the one with the larger brain,

will be less capable of empathizing with others,

and will be at higher risk of becoming addicted to drugs and involved in violent crimes.

Additionally, the child with the smaller brain is more likely to remain unemployed and dependent on social services, and may develop mental health issues or other serious health problems.

The large difference in size and development between these two brains is not due to illness or injury, but rather to how the two children were treated by their mothers.

The child with the larger, more developed brain was loved by their mother, who was consistently present and attentive to their needs. The child with the smaller brain, on the other hand, was neglected and abused. It is precisely this difference in treatment that explains why one child's brain developed fully while the other’s did not.

Of course, our favorite vampire spawn isn’t a developing child—but the point is that certain environments and experiences have a profound impact and shape many aspects of our lives, making us more or less equipped to face challenges.

At this point, I’d like to focus a bit on the reasoning process in general. It’s easy to believe that when humans think, make decisions, and reflect on a problem or task, they do so in the most rational way possible. And that’s where we go wrong! First of all, the cerebral cortex — the part of the brain responsible for complex cognitive functions such as thinking, awareness, memory, attention, and language — is located in the upper region of the brain. Most stimuli, in order to reach the cortex, must pass through all the lower areas of the brain, which often trigger behavioral responses even before the stimulus reaches rational thought. For example, the activation of the sympathetic nervous system, which is responsible for danger responses. A silly example: how many times have we jumped out of our skin before realizing that the loud, scary noise was just a window slamming shut? First comes the fear response, then the evaluation of the stimulus follows.

As if that weren’t enough, the brain plays other little tricks on us — without us even being aware of it — because that sneaky thing does a whole lot on its own, especially when it comes to thinking and making decisions.

So... Astarion has a very limited perspective—mostly the one offered by Cazador. As we said earlier, the world is divided into those who have power and those who suffer it. Period. But we all know that in between there are infinite shades of gray, and that can’t be denied. In the same way, Astarion believes that Tav/Durge is the exception to the rule—the only kind person in the world, the one and only for him. But as much as it flatters our ego to hear that, we know very well that no one is that special. It’s always Astarion’s perspective that’s extremely limited. And in fact, here too, Tav/Durge has the opportunity to broaden his view, to point out that the world is full of kind people who would care for him if only he opened himself up and showed kindness in return. This narrow way of thinking and seeing things, this resistance to noticing alternatives, fits perfectly into the category of cognitive biases.

Let’s start with the premise that the human brain needs to be both effective and efficient. That means reaching a result in the shortest time and using the fewest resources. Therefore: when we think and make decisions, we don’t always do so rationally. We use heuristics—mental shortcuts—often following patterns we've used before. A silly example: if I have to cook a dish I’ve made a hundred times, I don’t sit down to rethink how and why I should cook it—I just switch off my brain and do it the way I’ve always done. Many heuristics are good and useful—others, not so much. And when they fall into the latter category, they become biases.

There are many types, but let’s look at one that we all, even us Astarion fans, share. xD Confirmation Bias!

Confirmation bias manifests when we tend to search for, interpret, or remember information that supports our pre-existing beliefs, ignoring anything that contradicts them or isn’t completely aligned.

Once a certain mental imprint forms, new experiences only deepen that groove, without any willingness to explore other interpretative modes—in fact, they tend to further crystallize internal beliefs.

We can say that the person is cherry-picking—in a complex set of data and information, they pick out only what resonates with a belief they already hold, which, in some way, is convenient for them.

The reason is easy to see: if I don’t challenge a belief—even if it’s irrational—I’ll save time, create less friction, and reduce internal and external resistance to a given situation.

Because confirmation bias shows up when a person selects only the evidence that supports their point of view, it easily becomes a self-sustaining system, keeping them locked in an interpretive and experiential microcosm that risks becoming increasingly stifling—a self-built prison.

Astarion is stuck on tracks he’s known inside and out for centuries, forcibly carved into his mind—and for him, it’s all too easy to filter everything through that lens. And this cuts him off from a myriad of possibilities, in a completely unconscious way. It’s like throwing a wrench in your own gears. So Tav/Durge represents an opening to a different value system, one that could replace or at least expand our vampire spawn’s worldview. Not without resistance, of course—those brain connections will get you!

So, to conclude, let’s go back to the beginning and to the statement in question.

"Astarion does not have a well-developed sense of self, and by default, he also lacks many of the skills that a well-adjusted adult should possess."

Yes, maybe out of context it might sound bad. I certainly don’t see Astarion as half a man, incapable of thinking or choosing for himself. But I do recognize that he has serious vulnerabilities that need to be treated with care and taken into account. Not when we're playing—when we play, we do what we like and have fun—but when we analyze him as a character. When Astarion, at the end of the Pale Elf quest, in the good ending, thanks us for saving him from himself, what he means, in my opinion, is exactly this: thank you for supporting me when my vulnerabilities, my fears, my blind spots, and my narrow perspective were getting the best of me. Because, let’s be honest, Astarion’s story is also about this—about rediscovery, about learning to live again, about changing, improving, growing, developing relationships, new abilities and skills. Not as a rogue or as a vampire, or within game mechanics—but as a person.

The point is: Astarion has come out of a horrific situation, one that has to have left marks, wounds, infected pus festering beneath the skin. A situation that never allowed him to understand what he liked, what he wanted, who he really was—simply because he couldn’t express himself, couldn’t think about his own needs, couldn’t say no. Couldn’t develop his sense of self in peace and safety.

A situation that left him unable to face the world and the people in it in a healthy way, unable to identify and express his own feelings, unable to say that damn "no" or to make choices. To decide, yes. And in fact, every time he’s asked what he wants to do, his answers are vague—or he says he doesn’t know, or admits that he’s afraid of those damn choices. He’s afraid of freedom, of consequences, and of everything else beyond the four things he knows—the four fucking things Cazador drilled into him, all around power and control.

And I’m really supposed to believe that the one choice he’s absolutely sure about is Ascension? Hell no. Just like he's not sure he doesn't want to ascend!

References

Rogers, C. R. (1961). On Becoming a Person: A Therapist's View of Psychotherapy. Houghton Mifflin. → A foundational text on the concept of the self, self-actualization, and congruence between real and ideal self.

Winnicott, D. W. (1964). The Child, the Family, and the Outside World. Penguin Books. → Explores the importance of a safe environment in the healthy development of the self.

Bowlby, J. (1969–1980). Attachment and Loss (Vols. 1–3). Basic Books. → Describes how early attachment figures shape our internal working models and sense of security.

Erikson, E. H. (1950). Childhood and Society. W. W. Norton & Company. → Introduces the theory of psychosocial development across the lifespan.

Herman, J. L. (1992). Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence—From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror. Basic Books. → Explains complex trauma, victim-perpetrator dynamics, and the long-term effects of abuse.

van der Kolk, B. A. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Viking. → Offers neuroscientific insight into how trauma reshapes the brain and affects emotional regulation.

Siegel, D. J. (2010). The Mindful Brain: Reflection and Attunement in the Cultivation of Well-Being. W. W. Norton & Company. → Discusses neuroplasticity, integration, and the development of a coherent sense of self.

Kahneman, D. (2011). Thinking, Fast and Slow. Farrar, Straus and Giroux. → A deep dive into heuristics, decision-making, and cognitive biases like confirmation bias.

Malaguti, E., & Morganti, P. (2014). Psychotraumatology: An Integrated Model for Trauma Treatment. (Translated from the Italian). FrancoAngeli. → Addresses the psychological and neurological consequences of prolonged trauma.

[raileurta]

Miko & Megatron friendship headcanons

Megatron got Miko's phone number so he could threaten her but now they just chat about stuff.

Commit ✨arson✨ as a past time together.

They play uno together and it gets so heated. Like really heated lmao.

Did the supervillain turn around in the chair thing with Miko standing in as the cat.

Their dynamic is essentially the uncle with lore™️ who adopted the feral neroudivergent child.

_________________________________________

Megatron: I know 200 ways to kill a human.

Miko: You could glue an open jar of rats to his face then blowtorch the other side so the rats have to eat their way out through his face. :D

Megatron: 201.

_________________________________________

They try to keep their relationship on the down low. Megatron does it because he does not want his crew think he's weak. Miko only hides it because she doesn't want the others thinking she is a spy or betraying them.

(Totally not also cause she's sick and tired of being the "annoying one" and she finally has something no one else on the team has)

Once during a battle Miko called Megatron dad and he rubs this fact constantly in Optimus's face.

_________________________________________

Miko: Bloop bloop bloop.

Jack: Miko!

Miko: What?!

Jack: That is that's a dangerous decepticon!

Miko: He's not dangerous. (Mostly)

Jack: What are you??

Miko: We're blooping!

Miko: Bloop bloop bloop bloop.

Megatron: >:3

_________________________________________

Miko has a decepticon persona called (can't think of a name) and all they do is kidnap herself and prank the autobots. Only Megatron knows they're Miko.

Watches together that one dude on Tiktok who makes messy drama with Barbie dolls.

Megatron is low-key scared of Miko sometimes but he sooner turn into an autobot before admitting it.

When he found out how short the lifespan of a human is Megatron for no reason in peculiar started looking into if organic life forms could be made into transformers.

Miko somehow got him a pink shirt that has "girl dad" printed on it in his size. No one knows how she did that and at this point they just don't question stuff like this anymore.

[stickandthorn]

I was thinking about that post about redemption I just reblogged, and I think it’s worth pointing out just how difficult and time consuming it would to de-radicalize or “redeem” Lilliana. And I think Essek’s redemption in campaign 2 is actually a really good example of what I’m talking about.

First of all, what the Nein did to redeem Essek was not slowly and politely talk him through why what he did was wrong. They didn’t even know he did anything wrong. What they did was continually reach out to him and give him a support system of friends he did not have before. Notably, friends who he could be comfortable sharing his worldview around: he was an atheist* in a theocratic society who had to hide his worldview in order to have any social, academic, or governmental standing. The mighty nein were probably the first people he could be himself around, and creating a change in his personal life is what led to a change in his ideology. Notably, he did most of the actual deconstructing of his ideology on his own, some before the big betrayal reveal and a lot after. The Nein helped with that directly a little, but the main thing they did was offer him a personal connection he had stakes in, and a people in his life with different world views he hadn’t seen up close before.

This is pretty true to life, in the real world, most people who leave radical or bigoted groups leave at least partially because of a change in their personal life. Even if they do leave because of someone directly challenging their worldview, it’s usually someone they care about who challenges them in a non-aggressive way. It’s still personal.

Secondly, this took a lot of time. I can’t remember exactly how long they spent in the Dynasty, but they befriended Essek over a really long period of in game and out of game time. The cast spent actual real world hours talking pretty much one on one with Essek, and the party spent weeks, maybe even months slowly getting to know him and bringing this support structure into his life. Essek spent even longer actually thinking through and deconstructing on his own. The change in his worldview between the ship and the outpost really shows this, he did a lot of the thinking that led him to change by himself over a lot of time we weren’t there for. They could not have gotten him to actually change his mindset, fully realize what he did was wrong of his own free will, in anything approaching a short amount of time. This was a time consuming process.

All this to say: this is the kind of effort it would take to legitimately de-radicalize Lilliana. She has been in the Vanguard for ~25 years, she most likely joined when she was in her early to mid 20s, and she gave up all personal connections, even her daughter and her husband to join. Not only has her entire ideology been built around this being the right thing to do, her entire personal life is contained within the Vanguard. It’s most likely where she gets any housing or money or really anything from. It is her whole life, and she believes wholeheartedly in it. The level of time and effort it took to get Essek to organically change his mind is most likely the level it would take to get Lilliana to change hers, if not more.

And they don’t have that time. Lilliana is actively doing harm now, she is helping the Vanguard release Predathos right now, they simply do not have the time to redeem her. It sucks, but pragmatically speaking, it is simply not worth the time and effort. Essek gave away the beacons in the past, but also, the Nein did not know he did that for their early friendship. If the Nein had known, they probably would not have put in all the work it took to get him to change. They probably couldn’t have. Lilliana might be able to be redeemed in theory, but so can a lot of people who do very bad things. Focusing on that redemption process is prioritizing Imogen’s complicated feelings over the harsh reality that this is a war, and Lilliana is a key figure in that war doing a great deal of harm. It sucks, but I do think it’s time to move on, and I think Imogen is now leaning that way.

*atheist is a loose term here, it’s hard to be an atheist in a world where gods are proven to exist, but it gets the point across

[osohchoso]

Shattered Ice

Chapter Two- Regrets

Hockey player!Choso x F!reader, ex bf!Toji x F!reader

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Content: fluff, college AU, hockey AU, friendships, hangovers and mentions of drinking, embarrassment, mentions of cheating

The walk to your dorm felt exhausting. It’s only three flights to your level but each step was excruciating. Hand clutching the railing as you climb, clinging to it in case your clumsy feet missed. If someone were to pass by at this exact moment, they would think you had just climbed a mountain with how winded you are. To make things worse, those pain relievers Choso gave you have done nothing to ease the pain in your head. The violent pounding worsened with each subtle movement. But the end is in sight, at the top of these stairs is your door, where you can finally lay down and rest. 

Leaning your shoulder against the wooden door, you rummage through your purse. Eyes closed as you feel around the mess inside, items jumbled around carelessly without any organization. Your fingertips graze against the metal teeth of your house key, pinching it between your thumb and index finger to pull it out. Inserting the key into the door until it clicks and creaking the door wide open.

Walking in, you nearly trip over one of Shoko’s heels lying carelessly in the entrance. Likely kicked off in a hurry the second their uber dropped them off last night. You quickly slip your own shoes off and look around the dorm. It’s eerily quiet. Shoko and Utahime are probably peacefully sleeping off their hangovers. Walking over to the kitchen, you pull out a nice and cold bottle of water from the fridge. The icy droplets give your dry throat the relief it craved. 

Plastic water bottle pressed to your forehead to soothe the ache as you shuffle your way to your room. Before reaching the end of the hall, you pass by the open door that leads to Shoko’s room. She is laying on her stomach, face pressed into the white pillow case while Utahime lays on her back. Both girls fast asleep and completely oblivious that youre approaching them with a menacing grin.

For a moment, you completely forget about the pain and nausea from your hangover. The only thing on your mind now, payback.

You jump up and crash onto the bed, landing on top of your two friends with a thud. Shoko groans but doesn't move from her spot. Utahime on the other hand, did not take the rude awakening so well.

“What the hell!” she shouts, sitting up looking alarmed. Her black bangs slick to her forehead with sweat as she stares at you, bewildered. Once she recognizes your giggling face, the adrenaline wears off. She sighs your name and lightly punches your arm. “I was having the best dream, ya know...Satoru dropped out and I didn’t have to worry about him being my class partner anymore. Why did you have to wake me?” She lets out another dramatic sigh before laying back on the mattress. 

“You guys!” You groan dramatically, forcing your body between them. Shoko’s elbow digging into your stomach. “You abandoned me!!” 

“I didn’t want to!” Utahime objects. “Trust me, the last thing I wanted to do was leave you alone in some frat house with a bunch of drunk men.”

“But you still did,” you point out with a pout.

“It's not her fault” Shoko grumbles into the pillow, her words coming out muffled. Up until now, you weren't even sure if she was awake or listening. “If anyone blame Satoru, he didn’t want you to puke in the uber’s car and have to pay for it”

“Like that rich fuck can't afford the cleaning fee” Utahime rolls her eyes and sighs. You know she’s right, your best friend comes from a rich family and could easily afford to pay the fine if you happened to spew all over the car. It likely wouldn’t even make a dent in his pocket. “Seriously though, how are you doing?” Utahimie’s gaze softens as she looks over you, trying to access your physical and mental state.  

“I feel like someone is drilling inside my brain, and my stomach is a bit uneasy. But other than that, I'm fine.” 

“Did he do anything to you?” Utahime narrows her eyes, scanning over your body still covered in his borrowed clothing, the comforting scent of his clove cologne still clinging to it.

“No!” You quickly shake your head “Choso is very nice. He took care of me the whole night after you left.” 

“Oh? So you do remember his name. Pay up Utahime.” Shoko mumbles into the pillow, Utahime clicks her tongue in response. You watch, stunned, as Utahime digs out a wad of cash from her wallet on the nightstand, throwing it at the other’s head. 

“You guys placed bets on if I would remember his name?” you gasp, watching as Utahime nods sheepishly. 

“We weren’t sure if you would remember anything after that last shot with Sukuna” Shoko says, still face down into her pillow. 

“No thanks to you two!” you huff. “But for your information, no, I did not remember his name. Or anything from the party when I woke up. Had to ask him everything when I woke up. It was so embarrassing, never let me get that drunk again.”

“Yeah…you were a mess last night” Shoko laughs as she finally turns her head to face you. Her once pristine, white pillow case stained black. A combination of eyeliner and sharpie. Her face still sporting the smeared drawings. Your eyes are drawn right to the thick black line running across the bridge of her nose, the one Choso drew.

“I don’t think I can ever face him again” you blurt out, heat pricking your cheeks. You would rather crawl off the face of the earth than have to speak to the hockey player again, than risk the chance of him bringing up one of your drunken moments he had to witness. 

“Tough luck, he’s going to be at every game until you graduate. And I know there is no way you're skipping on those.” Shoko says flatly. You bite your tongue, she's right. But there is nothing saying you have to interact with him at the games. Maybe you can spend the remainder of your time at Kaisen University by completely avoiding him. There is no reason you have to speak to him again. Right? 

Just go to the games, stick with your friends and never, ever step foot into Sukuna’s ‘domain’ ever again. Easy. 

Your friends continue to fill you in on your drunken activities throughout last night. Like how you and Satoru decided to sing ‘Die with a Smile’ at the top of your lungs, in an attempt to serenade Suguru together but instead made everyone’s ears bleed. Or how you raided the pantry when you got snackish, eating the last pack of Sukuna’s secret stash of fruit snacks.

At some point, the three of you drifted back to sleep in Shoko’s bed. Napping the remainder of the day away. By the time you woke again, the bed was cold on either side and the sun was starting to set. Thankfully, the much needed rest was enough to chase the raging migraine away. Sitting up, you notice Utahime was kind enough to plug your dead phone into the charger on the nightstand. Pulling it off and make your way out of Shoko’s room, walking toward the living area. Holding down the power button to revive the phone, hoping you didn't miss any important messages. 

Shoko sits in the living room, a still warm pizza box sitting on the coffee table in front of her. 

“Want some?” she asks, waving toward the half full box of pizza. Her skin now clean and clear of any markings, hair still slightly damp. You nod and walk forward, grabbing a slice from the box and plopping next to her on the couch. The two of you eat in silence for a moment. Your phone vibrates twice from where it sits on the arm of the couch. Glancing at the name, you instantly scowl.

ASSHOLE (dni): Baby

ASSHOLE (dni): Please let me explain

You let out a frustrated sign and swipe the notification away, not even bothering to open it. 

“Toji?” Shoko asks after studying your expression, already knowing your answer.

“Yup. He sends me a message like once a day.”

“Why?” she snorts.

“Maybe because he realized what he’s missing now that I’m gone.” 

“Does he think you’ll take him back or something? You should block him.” She takes another bite of her pizza, chewing thoughtfully. “Why haven't you blocked him?” A question you have been asking yourself recently too.

“I just…can’t.” Speaking slowly, forcing the words out. “He was such a big part of my life, that it hurts even thinking of erasing the memories I made with him. It’s all just so fresh still.” You may be past the initial grieving of your broken relationship, but it still hurts just the same. How can you just forget the past and move on? You wanted a future with that man, convinced yourself he was your future. 

“Would you get back with him?” Shoko asks, though her voice is soft her expression is serious. The question catches you off guard. It isn't something you had put much thought into. How could you ever trust him again after what he did? Constantly worrying about if he was sneaking off with a side piece. And what if he cheated a second time? How would you respond then? Thinking about it just puts you in a rage again.

“No”

“Good. You're better than him.” Shoko pats your shoulder before standing up, closing the pizza box and walking it to the kitchen to refrigerate the leftovers. On the way back to the bedroom, she pauses and looks at you. Determination in her glare. “Block. His. Number.” Each syllable spoken so sharply it could cut you. 

“I will” you promise before she walks down the hall to her bedroom. Pulling your phone back out, you look at the contact. His picture is one you took of him, your favorite picture. Your thumb caressing his chin, tilting him to look up at the camera in your other hand as you snapped this memory. His lips pulled in a tight line that highlighted the scar on the corner of the right side, but his eyes showed nothing but happiness. He would never admit it, but he loved the way you would obsess over him. Constantly taking pictures and posting him for the world to see. For everyone to know you were his. Pictures that no longer exist, pulled from your socials the instant you got home the night of the break up. You regret deleting them, like burning a piece of history. 

Which is why blocking him is so hard for you now. Just another broken piece you refuse to let go. Your thumb hoovers over the block button, frozen in place as you wait for your brain to give the order. To follow through and cut contact with him once and for all. You can’t. Not yet at least. Locking your phone, you head to bed. Hoping to get a good night's rest and not be haunted by memories of all the good times with Toji. 

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

You did not get a good night’s rest. It didn’t help you slept during the day yesterday, so by the time the sun set your body refused to sleep. To make matters worse, your overactive thoughts wouldn't shut off. Thinking about everything you missed about Toji. The way he laughed at your stupid jokes. How he used to pick you fresh wild flowers because he didn't ‘believe’ in purchasing a bouquet from the store. And especially the way his muscled arms would wrap around you as he held you tight the entire night. 

You hate to admit it, but you miss him.

The first thing you saw this morning was another text from him. The messages staring back at you, baiting you, waiting for you to strike.

ASSHOLE (dni): can we talk about this? 

ASSHOLE (dni): I can't lose you.

You: Maybe you should have thought about that before

You: I don't want to talk about us

You: you can’t fix this

You set your phone down and walk away to get ready for class. Mondays you only have one class, a lab on small animal nursing. This lab only meets once a week, so it's a bit longer than your typical class. After showering, you slip on a matching set of black scrubs, shove your stethoscope in your bag and pick your phone back up from the nightstand. Another notification lights up on the screen, this time not from your ex. An email from your school counselor, asking you to meet with them immediately after your class today. 

It’s noon by the time your lab class ends. Rushing from the science building to the main building in the center of campus. Your appointment with the school counselor was set to start in ten minutes. You still have no clue what he wanted to meet with you on, there were no hints in the email. You do great in all your classes, always achieving the highest marks. A model student. You can't imagine anything you have done to put you in trouble. 

Unless?

Unless somehow, your drunken shenanigans made their way to the school staff. Sure, nothing you did was illegal, but it was a bad look. The star veterinary pupil getting absolutely shit-faced. This could really ruin your reputation. Would it be enough to take your scholarship away too? 

As you take a seat in the waiting area, your thoughts are plagued with anxieties. Of what your life would be like if your fears come true. The scholarship wasn’t the issue, if you lost that your dad could easily pay the tuition fee. Explaining how you lost it to him would be the harder part. Living with the shame would be even more difficult. 

Loud clomping of heavy shoes pull you from your thoughts, causing you to look at the source of the noise. Choso exits from the counselor’s office. He's dressed casually, a gray pullover paired with loose jeans and black laced up boots. His pigtails bob as he walks toward the exit, like he's on a mission. His thick brows pulled tight, slight scowl on his face. You want to duck and hide out of view but thankfully he doesn’t look your way. Probably doesn't even know anyone else is even in the waiting area the way his gaze doesn't lift from the paper he's clutching. Eyes scanning the words printed on it, over and over. Looking upset by whatever it says. 

A male voice calls your name from inside the office. You stand and enter, taking a seat in front of the elderly man seated behind the desk. He is hunched over, staring at a computer screen, not acknowledging your presence yet. One of his hands stroked the length of his overgrown beard. This man has been your counselor all throughout your college career. Each time you see him, you notice more wrinkles, causing you to wonder if he will ever retire. 

“Mr. Gakuganji. You wanted to see me?” You straighten up in your seat as he turns to look at you. 

“Do you have a job?” he asks. His sudden question stuns and confuses you for a moment.

“No” you say quietly, not sure what it matters. You were fortunate enough to not only have your tuition paid for, but to have parents with money. Not in the same way Satoru’s parents are, but enough to get by more than comfortably. Your dad sends you a generous allowance each month, which you blow on food and drinks out with friends. If you ever ran out, he wouldn’t hesitate to send you more. Even when he knew you just wanted to buy a new purse or an overpriced lipstick, he would send it. Your dad loves to spoil you and your siblings. 

“Good, that makes things easier.” Your counselor sighs, raising a frail hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Do you know why I’m meeting with you today?” he asks, sounding exhausting. 

“No sir.”

“There have been some changes made to the biology department, dealing with the curriculum.” He sets his hand back down and looks you in the eye.

“Oh” is all you can manage to say. This was not at all what you were expecting at all.

“It’s a real pain on my part. Having to meet with all of you who fall under the biology major umbrella and tweak your schedules so you can graduate on time.” He looks over at the computer screen again, scanning your profile. “Lucky for you it shouldn’t be too big of a change. We just need to add one class this semester and you'll be fine.” You suddenly feel very thankful you only had three classes you signed up for this semester. His fingers click a button on his keyboard and the printer begins to spit out a paper. 

“What class?” You ask, hoping maybe they decided to add something new and exciting. Maybe the school was granted new technology for clinical simulations or new equipment to test out. This could be a welcomed change. 

“Public speaking” he answers, ripping the paper free from the printer before sliding it across the desk to you. A general education class. You took all of those the first year here, wanting to get them out of the way and start the classes that really mattered. Public speaking was never required for you. So why must you take it now? He notices the puzzled look on your face. “Someone decided our science majors were not great speakers at the last conference. Three of our students froze up during their presentations last month, so this is an attempt to fix that. We can’t have the graduates of Kaisen University representing us like that” 

“Oh, Ok. I understand.” Public speaking has never been an issue for you, hopefully this class goes by easily.

“I know this is unexpected and we are already a few weeks into this semester. You’ll be entering this class with a disadvantage, but I have no worries. You're a smart student, you'll catch on fast. Mondays at 1pm, starting today. Now hurry along.” He tells you sternly, waving you along so he can call in the next student. The man is likely stressed with making all these last minute changes. 

“Thank you Mr.Gakuganji.” You stand from the chair and walk out, paper in hand with the class information. You have 20 minutes to kill before it’s time to start this new class. You decide to stop by the cafeteria and grab a quick lunch. Shoveling some mediocre sesame chicken into your mouth and looking over the class information. No text books were needed thankfully, but the professor is notorious for being boring. Satoru complained about his monotone voice enough times for you to recognize the name. A boring class for a boring professor, how lucky. 

After lunch, you enter the building where your class is located. Scanning the numbers next to each door looking for room 141a. You find the doors and push it open confidently. A large classroom with rows upon rows of raised seats facing the front. Everyone seated and now turning to face you. The professor, who was in the middle of speaking, abruptly stops as you enter. You start to panic, was this the wrong time. Your skin begins to heat up as you stand frozen at the door. You recognize Suguru sitting in the front row, eyes wide at your sudden appearance as he mouths ‘what are you doing?’ at you. 

“Can I help you?” the professor asks, annoyance in his tone. 

“Um…is this the public speaking class?” you squeak out, feeling the pressure of the classes glare.

“No. This is social theory, room 141b. You want the class next door.” He responds sharply then turns back to continue the lecture. 

“Sorry” you murmur and quickly exit. “Can't believe I walked in the wrong room.” The room next to this one had the doors open, the professor not yet at the podium. The set-up of the room was almost identical to the one next door. PUBLIC SPEAKING written on the board for everyone to see. You wonder if any of your other animal science classmates were also switched into this class or if they were attending it on a different day of the week. Scanning the crowd, you don’t recognize any familiar faces. All but one. 

Third row up, sat directly in the middle, sits Choso. His pigtails look a little messy, frown plastered to his face as he fidgets with his fingers under the desk. Eyes staring straight ahead at the blank screen as he waits for class to start. Of course he would be here too. Maybe if you find your seat quickly he won't notice.

Thanks to your mistake next door, you arrived a minute after the start time of class. Only one minute, but every seat in the class was filled, except for two. The one next to Choso or one a few more rows up. The choice is easy, with your decision to avoid any more awkward encounters you climb the steps with the seat away from him in mind. He snapped out of his trance as you moved past him, and from the corner of your eye you watched his expression change. Just for a second. For just a small moment you catch a look on his face, soft and content. Relieved even. Like maybe he was hoping you were coming to sit next to him. Instead, you look away and climb up a few more rows. 

The second you settle into your seat, the professor begins the lecture. Satoru wasn’t lying about this guy's voice. Droning on and on about the essentials of public speaking, how to keep your audience captivated. Maybe he needs to practice what he preaches. As the class stretches on, you feel the sleeplessness catching up to you. Heavy eyelids flutter as you fight to stay awake. Just as you almost give up the fight, a loud thump jolts you awake. 

A few rows down from you, you see Choso’s head face down on the desk. Out cold. He hit the desk hard by the sound of it, you know that hurt. A few of the students laugh as Choso lifts his head. No doubt the impact to the hard wood shocked him awake. 

“Mr. Kamo. In the future I challenge you to at least attempt to get a good night’s rest before my class.” The professor says in a condescending tone. You don’t hear his response to him, but notice his pigtails shake as he nods sheepishly.

At the end of class, the professor begins explaining the final project. He’s assigning it now to give everyone enough time to prepare and hopefully not procrastinate. Students are required to prepare a lengthy speech on a topic they are passionate about and present to the class. With a partner. 

The class erupts in chatter. Students turning to their neighbor and asking who wants to partner with who or what topic to present. The professor raises his hand to silence everyone.

“I’m sorry, but I will be assigning the partners. You'll receive an email from me later tonight. Class dismissed.” You hurry and grab your things, already wondering who will be assigned your partner. You pass by Choso in a hurry, noticing the big red mark he continues to rub on his forehead. Anyone but him please.

That night, you wait around anxiously as you wonder who the professor could possibly assign to you. The email finally comes, unlocking the screen with shaky fingers and clicking on the notification. Eyes skimming the text explaining the assignment again, nagging the importance of this presentation, urging you to start immediately.  Finally, at the end, the name unveiling your partner, and their contact information.

Nine little letters stare back at you, making your heart drop to your stomach.

Choso Kamo.

A/N: Thanks for reading!! As always, thanks for all the engagement, it really helps to motivate me :) I'm working on the next chapter but it likely won't be out until later next week or after the New Year due to the busy holidays. Hope everyone has a good holiday!

Dividers/Graphics by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[f1byjessie]

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part four.

“Saw McLaren posted pics of the new car,” Jack says in lieu of a greeting when he sees you after the weekend. He picks up his pace and crosses the distance to meet you where you’re fumbling with the keys to your “office”, and then he takes a few of the many equipment bags you’re attempting to juggle, saying as he does so, “You take any of those or no?”

You laugh, “Ah, no. They actually hire on a whole studio crew that does that. They’ve got lights, green screens, special camera lenses, the whole lot. The post-production on those photos is mad though.” You get the door unlocked and usher him inside, “I got to sit in on it once, and it’s crazy how much work goes into getting just a couple week’s worth of promotional content.”

He sets your bags down where you direct him to and then offers you a snarky grin, “Still probably would’ve looked cooler if you took ‘em, to be fair.”

It makes you laugh again. Jack seems to be good at that, and it feels nice to get along so well with someone you work with. You’ve found a surprising friend in him. At the end of your conversation on Friday, you’d exchanged numbers and he’d made you promise to reach out if you needed him for anything. You hadn’t, but he’d still sent you an unflatteringly angled picture of Kyle Walker from after their match against Newcastle, followed quickly with━ “use this in the next media drop thx,” and the chatter had gone from there.

You set down your own bags. “Well, thank you. Pretty sure it’s not as fun as this job, though.”

And you mean it. You’ve had opportunities to switch over to studio photography, and though you respect the people who do it and the unique challenges it poses in its own right, there’s nothing like being upfront and personal with all the action, getting to see the athletes in their element and know them on a level that goes beyond an hour or two shoot. You wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“Wait,” you pause, hands stopping just above where you’re ready to start sorting through your equipment, “since when did you keep up with Formula One?”

Jack shrugs. “I don’t. But you work for that team, yeah? So I figured I might as well see what they’re all about.”

“Well, if you need something to do during the summer, let me know and I’ll see what I can do,” you tell him, resuming your sorting. “They give me extra tickets for each race but they usually end up going to waste.”

You don’t bring up the falling out you had with your parents at eighteen when you told them you were going to pursue photography or the fact that you haven’t really talked to them in years because of it. You also don’t mention that due to the strenuous, near-constant traveling and the strict schedule of your job, your friendships are limited to the athletes you work with and the other McLaren staff that travel with you━ all of whom have passes of their own, for obvious reasons.

Jack, thankfully, doesn’t ask about it either. Whether he’s made his own assumptions or respects that it’s probably a sore subject, he leaves it alone and the two of you carry on in companionable silence.

You get your equipment unzipped from the bags and organized across the room per your system, guiding your temporary helper with pointed fingers to where it all should go.

The silence is only broken again when he asks you a question. “You got a favorite driver?”

It’s so out of the blue that you nearly jump, startled by the suddenness of it against the quietness of the room. But then you laugh and shake your head. “Officially no, but just between the two of us, me and Lando started at the same time so he’s got a special place in my heart. He’s also my best friend.”

Jack raises an eyebrow, “Oh yeah?” Despite the persona he puts on, you think he secretly loves gossip. “How’d he take the news about you being with Ward, then? ‘Cause I’d have some choice things to say to any friend of mine if they got with a prick like that.”

You purse your lips, divert your gaze to avoid Jack’s eyes, and shrug, fiddling with the neck strap of your camera as you do so. “I don’t know.”

“You ‘don’t know?’”

You shrug again and feign checking over the settings as if your camera’s aperture is suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “He hasn’t been picking up my calls,” you start, “or answering my texts since the paps released the pics, so.”

When you glance back up, Jack’s making a face. “So, your best friend finds out you’re dating a total bellend, and instead of asking you about it or at the very least taking the piss, he ignores you?”

When he puts it like that, you feel a bit stupid for being more sad than you are angry.

All you can do is shrug.

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yourusername ladies and gentlemen, jack grealish (i was threatened into posting these, send help pls)

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You decide that if Lando gets to be petty, then so do you.

The thing is, you’d told Lando you wouldn’t replace him with any of the guys from Manchester City, and you’d meant it━ you still mean it, despite your frustrations and annoyances with him telling you otherwise.

But if he’s going to play games, then so are you.

Technically you hadn’t started the relationship with Garrett willingly, but Lando doesn’t know that, and even if you had that doesn’t give him the right to go about ignoring you. You’ve been supportive when he’s gotten girlfriends━ you even ate greasy pizza, drank cheap wine, and cried watching The Notebook together when he ended his long-term relationship back in 2022. He could at least pretend to be supportive, or better yet he could pick up the fucking phone. 

As pathetic as it sounds, you’d let him yell at and berate you if it just meant he’d answer your calls. Because having Jack around to gossip with and shoot the shit is nice, and he really does help you not feel so alone at Etihad Campus, but Lando’s your best friend and he has been for years now. There’s nobody that understands you as well as he does, even if he is a twat half the time, and what you need now most of all is that particular Lando brand of annoying to cheer you up.

The door opens, drawing your attention from where you’re scrolling through McLaren’s newest posts. Garrett stands in the opening.

The memory of that night still lingers like a bad taste in your mouth, bitter and unpleasant. You’ve managed to avoid him for the most part in the time since then, ignoring the looks he shoots your way out on the field or in the weight room, and lucky enough that his meetings with the physio team keep him preoccupied so that he can’t seek you out in between training sessions. You’d known it was inevitable that you’d have to face him, but that doesn’t stop the dread from pooling in your stomach when you see him standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised as he surveys the makeshift office you’ve done up for yourself.

“They couldn’t find you an actual office?” He comments, looking disdainfully towards your desk and the large Manchester City logo emblazoned across the front.

You shrug, wishing he’d just get to the point. “I’m only here for a few months. Doesn’t matter much to me. What do you want?”

He takes a step farther into the room and closes the door behind him, taking his sweet time to cross the distance toward the seats. When he’s finally lowered down into one, he looks up to you with a nonchalance that fills you immediately with anger.

“I’m making some amendments to our agreement,” he announces.

“Like hell you are.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Did you seriously expect people to believe we’re a couple if we never actually do anything to give off the impression of being a couple?”

You scowl. Obviously, you hadn’t expected to just skate by on the coattails of pictures from a single night. You’d known from the very beginning that you would eventually need to make another public appearance together at the very least if you wanted to keep the paparazzi fed and encourage the idea to the media that you’re in a committed relationship with one another. You’d just been hoping you would’ve had more time until then.

“I’m not an idiot, Garrett,” you grumble, crossing your arms in your seat. You had been looking through pictures from the day’s morning practice, but now you think having to look at any more of Kevin De Bruyne’s grinning face will make you lose your mind when you feel the furthest thing from happy.

“Obviously,” Garrett scoffs. “But you’re the one who said I get one kiss and nothing more. Newsflash, love━” your scowl deepens, “━couples do more than just kiss one time.”

“So what are you suggesting?”

He pulls his phone from the pocket of his joggers and swipes across the screen for a few moments of anticipatory silence. “Well,” he finally says, “it’s the sixteenth now. We haven’t got a match until the twenty-sixth. Go on a date with me this weekend.”

You can’t say no. There’s no plausible excuse for you to get out of it, and deep down you know the only way you can get rid of Garrett is to just do what he says and hope the media make their conclusions about his change quick enough that you can ditch him before the summer break.

At least during the Formula One season, you can use traveling as a reason to get out of dates. When the Champion’s League starts back up he’ll be traveling around Europe a bit more than he is now, and there’s always a chance you could be in the same country at the same time, but the likelihood of your schedules aligning is slim and that means you’ll be safe from any ventures out into public.

But for the time being, you’re stuck.

“Okay,” you reluctantly agree.

He claps his hands, a deceptively cheerful grin on his face. If you didn’t already think of him as the worst prick you’ve ever met, you might’ve found it charming. It’s the same smile he used to flash at you in your first week when he was trying to cozy up and ease his way into your good graces. The sight of it makes you sick to your stomach, now.

“Great,” he rises from his seat. “We’ll do some shopping, get some lunch━ make a full day out of it.”

At this point, you don’t care what he has planned. You just want him to leave you alone so you can try to at least pretend like you’re gonna finish the rest of the work you need to get around to.

Garrett’s made his way to the door and has his hand reaching for the handle when he turns back around and gives you a smirk. “Might wanna work on your happy face, though, love,” he comments, gesturing towards you with a nod of his head. “‘Cause if you look like that in front of the paps they definitely aren’t gonna be very convinced that you love me.”

Just to spite him, you let your scowl deepen. “I don’t need your advice. I know how to handle myself, Garrett.” You say his name like a curse━ like the very feeling of it on your tongue causes you pain.

If he notices, he doesn’t comment. His face turns thoughtful, but there’s still the smugness painted across his features that makes you so unfathomably annoyed. “You must be pretty familiar with the paps if you’re always around those drivers, yeah?” He knows the answer to his question already, so you’re not sure why he’s even asking.

He stays silent, though, like he’s genuinely expecting an answer, so you shrug your shoulders. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” he repeats back to you.

His laughter is all you hear echoing in your ears even once he’s long gone.

Until your phone starts to ring and Lando's name flashes across the screen.

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry @sideboobrry11 @d3kstar @mcmuppet @happylittlereader @casperlikej @5starl1ght

━━ a/n: cliffhanger hehe~ also, i promise we're getting to ACTUAL formula one stuff soon

[cherryblossomfairyy]

I did something bad

Pairing : spencer reid x unsub!reader

Summary : reader is avenging the abused and murdered wives of the rich and powerfull men in Virginia. Sadly she gets caught, and meet Dr Reid. Who isn't completely against here. Along the lyrics of the song "I Did Something Bad" by Taylor Swift

Masterlist

The sun broke over Charleston like a blush on porcelain, casting golden beams over a sprawling estate nestled behind iron gates. A Mercedes purred down the private drive and came to a stop. At precisely 7:00 AM, Margot Alvarez, housekeeper of twenty-three years, stepped out in crisp white sneakers and a linen blouse. She fumbled with the key, opened the massive front door, and walked into quiet opulence.

"Mr. Whitmore?" she called, already knowing she wouldn't get a response. The silence was too perfect. The air too still. When she entered the study, her scream fractured the morning calm. Charles Whitmore III sat upright in a leather wingback chair. A crimson silk tie had been pulled tightly around his neck. His face was wrapped in cellophane, his eyes open in terror. Soft classical music played from hidden speakers, and on the desk lay a single white camellia.

Virginia's elite had a secret—well-kept behind high gates and manicured smiles. Their wives were the silence that lined every luxury. But silence has a breaking point. She called herself Vesper. By day, a shadow. By night, a reckoning. Each name on her list had left a woman bruised or buried, protected by power, immune to justice. Not anymore. Not while she breathed. They called it a string of high-profile suicides. But the city whispered. These men were being hunted.

The city lights shimmered in the distance, a pulsing heartbeat beneath her fingertips. She leaned back in her seat , a glass of deep red wine in her hand. She had played this game before. It always started the same way—with a charming man who thought he had the upper hand.

"Never trust a narcissist. But they loved me"

And that was their first mistake. She made them feel invincible, like kings of the world. Then she played them like a violin, making it look effortless."Cause for every lie I tell them. They tell me three." Each promise she whispered in their ears, every lingering glance, was calculated. And she savored every moment.

"This is how the world works"

Tonight’s victim was Adrian, a silver-tongued businessman and politician with a penchant for expensive scotch and an ego too large for the room. "Crimson red paint on my lips." She had met him at an art gala, where he had tried to impress her with his wealth. She let him think he had won her over.

What he didn't know is that she came looking for him. Specially picked from her mountain of files, files about abuser and murders that got away. Never persecuted for their crime, why? Cause they got money, influence and nobody would testify against them.

She had met enough of them, in the high profile circles. And if the police wasn't gonna do it, she would.

The BAU got called in when the third victim was found.

"Third victim in three weeks," Emily Prentiss said, tapping the crime scene photos. "All white, wealthy men. All found staged in their homes." "And all with sealed records of domestic abuse," JJ added. "Restraining orders never enforced. Non-disclosure agreements bought and buried." "She's choosing her targets," Tara Lewis murmured. "This isn't random. This is justice. Her kind of justice."

Dr. Spencer Reid flipped through a tablet. "The tie—a crimson Mulberry silk. Not owned by the victim. Purchased boutique, cash, two weeks ago. Same type used in all three murders." David Rossi leaned back. "Organized. Patient. She’s hunting men who present one face to the public and another in private."Prentiss looked around the room. "Pack your bags. We're heading to Charleston."

The Whitmore estate buzzed with law enforcement. Prentiss, Rossi, and Reid combed through the study. The air was heavy with leather and old money. "She didn't just kill him," Reid said. "She performed this." Rossi pointed to the flower. "Camellia. Symbol of admiration... or mourning."

JJ walked in, holding a tablet. "Whitmore's wife filed for divorce four times. Each case withdrawn after private settlements. Hospital visits. Bruises logged, but never pursued." Tara joined them. "We're not looking for a killer. We're looking for a moral avenger. One who believes the system failed."

The next day the team had their profle completed and were ready to inform the police. The room is dimly lit. Crime scene photos of Charles Whitmore and Evan Masters are pinned to the whiteboard. A digital map marks both murder locations. Local detectives, a few media advisors, and the mayor’s liaison sit anxiously as the BAU steps forward. "We’re looking for a female unsub," Prentiss began. "Mid-20s to early 30s. Highly intelligent. Socially adept. She infiltrates her victims' lives through trust." "These murders are not just personal," Rossi added. "They're symbolic. The silk tie, the plastic, the posing. She wants us to see the truth they kept hidden. And she’s good at it. She’s careful. She studies her victims. She blends in. You won’t find her breaking windows or leaving prints. You’ll find her on security footage shaking hands, making polite conversation—just another face at the fundraiser.“

"She's likely a survivor of abuse herself," Tara said. "Possibly a witness to it growing up. This isn’t about rage. It’s about control. She’s displacing her rage. These men represent every abuser who walked away clean. She’s rewriting the narrative." Tara started her next words with a heavy sigh.  “This isn’t vengeance for a single wrong. This is mission-oriented. She sees herself as a kind of moral executioner—righting wrongs the legal system won't touch. That kind of psychological drive comes from deep, personal trauma.”   

"She volunteers somewhere," Reid said. "A domestic violence shelter, a counseling group or women’s charities. Somewhere she has access to stories, names, patterns."                                                                      Reid said with a speed that was hard to keep up with for most policeman at 8 am “She’s building dossiers before she even steps foot inside their homes.”

JJ looked around. "She believes she’s saving women. That makes her incredibly dangerous. Because she thinks she’s doing the right thing. She’s not done. She’s methodical. That means she has a list—and she’s checking names off, one at a time."             

 Prentiss said with a final and commanding voice. “This woman isn’t a monster. She’s a survivor who believes she’s the only one doing the right thing. And that makes her dangerous—because in her mind, she’s saving lives. Find the list, and you find her next victim.” The room goes silent as the team stands firm. The local lead detective slowly exhales, finally understanding the stakes.

Her name surfaced through DNA genealogy. A single eyelash found on the second victim’s silk tie. Y/n Y/l/n. Twenty-seven. Degree in la wand social work. Works part-time at The Harbor, a women’s shelter. Clean record. Calm eyes.

But her ex-husband had died ten years ago in a boating accident under suspicious circumstances. She was 19 when she married him. 23 when she was hospitalized with broken ribs. No charges ever filed. "She's reliving her trauma," Tara whispered. "Only this time, she wins."

She had met enough of them, in the high profile circles. And if the police wasn't gonna do it, she would.

But alas everything has too end someday. She got caught, after she poisoned Adrian. A quick, clean and effective method. After she left the scene, she forgot to turn the securitycameras back on. The security company found the error and send someone to check it out. The body was found the next day and the police got called.  The team knew with certainty hat this was her work. But it was rushed. Her normal rituals and signatures were missing.

Across town she had found her next victim

Senator Thomas Redgrave. Progressive. Vocal on women’s rights. Secretly monstrous. His wife had checked into The Harbor two months ago. Left within 48 hours. Never gave a statement. She was already in the senator's coastal retreat, posing as a new private chef. She greeted him with a soft smile and poured his wine. "You know what it feels like to scream and have no one hear you?" she asked softly. Redgrave frowned. "Excuse me?" She slipped the silk tie from her apron. "I'm here to listen.

Arrogance always gets caught. Her last job was too loud. Too fast. Too angry. She was captured before the blood on her hands had even dried.

And now here she was, still in her deep red dress, cuffed to the table in an interrogation room. The first who came to talk to her was a dark haired women. She introduced herself as Uniet chief agent Prentiss. After an hour with no words from her, the agent left. Before she closed the door she heard "If a man talks shit, then I owe him nothing. I don't regret it one bit, 'cause he had it coming."

Behind the mirror stood the team of other agents, and sight. She was the unsub, they knew it. But wasn't talking much. Seeing as the method of a female agent didn't work, they had to make a new plan. A plan that would help them make her give up her kill list. While the other agents were huddled together, Spencer was staring at the handcuffed women. Her posture confident and voice smooth that pulled him in. He couldn't see her eyes, yet he knew they were mesmerizing.

After some back and fort they decided that Spencer should go try. As he didn't look like an alpha male, the men who she hated and hunted. Spencer entered the room without a word. After 5 minutes of silence he introduced himself "Hello my name is Dr Spencer Reid. I'm with the BAU, you're in Quantico." his words seem to pull her attention. As they locked eyes for the first time. It felt as if electricity ran down their spines..

She didn’t expect him. Dr. Spencer Reid. FBI’s profiler with haunted eyes and a voice that could lull demons to confession. But he didn’t look at her like she was a monster. He looked like he understood.

The eye contact so sharp they both didn't dare to look away. In her smooth and steady voice, she said “They say I did something bad” to Dr. Reid. He wanted to tell her that she indeed did something bad, she murdered 5 men in total. But before he could, a grey haired, older, male agent, walked in the room with heavy footsteps and threw the crime scene photos on the table.

"You did something terrible. You killed these men without an ounce of sympathy. These men had lives, and you robbed them of it. Why!?" he yelled at her. She didn't react to the yelling and kept her gaze on Dr Reid as she slowly said "But why's it feel so good? Most fun I ever had. And I'd do it over and over and over again if I could" With a smile that would make Spencer blush if they met under different circumstances.

Even if he wanted to, he couldn't deny that he was intrigued. She was gorgeous. Her pretty eyes focused on him the whole time. As the gears of his mind whirred with newfound fervor, he wanted to know more, know her. What caused this reaction, why di dit happen like this, how did she fell into this world, what had happened to her…?.

His thoughts got cut short when the other agent asked her why she would do it again.

She sighed, knowing that the agents wouldn't understand her reasoning. The thrill was simply said, intoxicating. The look in their eyes when they realized they had been outplayed—priceless. She took justice in her own hands, because power was the most addictive drug of all. That why she would take every chance she could to scrap a name of her kill list.

She "never trust a playboy" , but they always fell for her lies. She "let them think they saved me", swooping in like knights in shining armor. "They never see it coming" what she did next.

The dark haired agent calmed his voice down and told her "if you confess and tell us who else is on your list, we'll tell the DA that you cooperated."

“Don’t throw away a good thing,” Dr Reid told her. “You’re smarter than this,” he said quietly, in the cold interrogation room. “I was smart. Then I saw what your system let slide.”

If the jury would convicted her, she would be locked up for life.he hoped that wouldn’t be the outcome of this case. All the uproar she caused would be lost. Maybe if the jury would swing in her favor, her good work coulg go on, legally then. He knew that it probably wouldn't be possible, but he still liked her to try. Yes he isn't supposed to agree with a murderer. But he couldn't deny that those men deserved to die. "The judge could be more lenient if you cooperate, and with your list we, the BAU, can make the men pay for their crimes. In prison, not in death. With your help, we can stop these men." The gray haired agent said.

She just smiled, completely ignoring the agent. All her focus was still on Dr Reid. From his beautifully messy light brown hair, to his soft dark blue cardigan. He looked sweet, like a men she could learn to trust. She could see he wasn't compulsed by her actions, he actually agreed with her. "It just felt so good." So good to see that justice is finally here". She avenged their abused or murdered spouses. In ways that the law never could.

The city below was alive with whispers. Whispers that the FBI caught the women who killed the men with the dark past. Some where saddened that there will still be many men out there who's actions made them dangerous. Others, they were always quick to call women like her witches."They got their pitchforks and proof. Their receipts and reasons"

She was getting bored and cold, sitting in the interrogation room for hours. Yes, Dr Reid was fun too look at but she rather talked without all the extra eyes on her. She looked to the mirror, knowing that the other agents were behind it. She said, with a loud and clear voice "I will tell you who's on my list, before any of my other witches find them. But only if you deserve it. I will only speak with Dr. Reid, if he passes my test, then maybe they won't have to die."

Spencer agreed to the conditions before the other agents could deliberate. He felt a rush of adrenaline, hearing that she wanted too talk to him, only him. He saw a glint in her eyes that told him she felt the same pull towards him as he felt towards her. On the one side he wanted to do his job, save those awful men of death and made them pay for their crimes. On the other he wanted to know more about the women who sat before him. Her confidence and opinions called to him, he felt the need to avenge the spouses who couldn't do it themselves, and prison felt like an too easy option, they deserved worse.

"They're burning all the witches." She said "Even if you aren't one." Being a women witch-like creature was enough for the rich en powerful men to hurt them.

"So light me up, light me up. Light me up, go ahead and light me up." and she would stand in the flames, smiling.

Because "it just felt so good."

The cell was cold. Not from temperature—sterility. The kind of cold that seeped into bones and made everything feel washed out, like she didn’t exist anymore.

But she did. They hadn’t broken her. Not yet. They tried—endless questions, psychological evaluations, a rotating cast of agents trying to pick her apart. But it was always Dr. Reid who stayed the longest. Who came back. “Why really did you start?” he asked her one night, after the others had left.

“You’ve read the files.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

Vesper leaned back, handcuffed to the table. “One of them put his wife in a coma. Her name was Lyla. I met her in a shelter where I volunteered. She was scared to breathe too loud. And the court? Called him a 'pillar of the community.'”

She looked up. “So I became the earthquake.”

Reid blinked slowly. “You know, for someone so calculated, you’re awfully poetic.” She smirked. “I’m not sorry.”

There was a flicker in his gaze—not judgment, but the kind of silent math geniuses do when calculating the cost of morality.

“Some of those wives had filed reports. I read the sealed files,” he said softly.

Her jaw twitched.

He leaned in. “I’m not saying you were wrong. I’m saying you didn’t have to do it alone.”

She laughed—bitter, hollow. “You think justice listens to women with no last name, no backing? I did what needed to be done. And I did it well.”

“You’re not a sociopath.”

“I never said I was.”

“You had patterns. Rituals. You left evidence—but just enough. It was a challenge, wasn’t it?” She leaned forward. “It was a message. I wanted them to know. To fear what they’d made.”

He didn’t answer.

She smiled. “You don't hate me.”

“No,” he said after a long pause. “I hate that you had to become this.”

Silence fell.

When the guards returned to take her away, she didn’t resist. But as they led her out, she looked over her shoulder and said:

“They say I did something bad—so why did "it just felt so good."

And he watched her go, the line between justice and vengeance burning like a fuse.

A week passed. No trial date. No visitors. Just headlines. Some outraged. Some disturbingly admiring. Then, an envelope. Slid under her cell door. No return address. Inside: a single note. “They’re not done covering for each other. Stay alive.” She stared at it, heart pounding. Someone out there still cared—or wanted her to think so.

Reid came the next day. “I didn’t send it,” he said before she could ask. “But... I’m glad someone did.” She raised an eyebrow. “You believe me now?” He looked at her, softer this time. “I think you believed in something. And I think the system is afraid of women who stop asking permission.” She tilted her head. “Are you afraid of me, Dr. Reid?” He gave a tired smile. “No. But I am afraid of what the world did to make you necessary.”

They moved her to solitary. They said it was for her safety. She knew better.

They called it The Vesper Case.

No one said her real name anymore. She had become a myth, a media obsession, an antihero draped in chains and black suits. Protesters outside waved signs. Some cursed her. Some worshipped her. "They're burning all the witches, even if you aren't one..."

She sat at the defense table like a storm bottled in human form—silent, but crackling. The prosecution called her calculated. Cold. A predator who "manipulated trauma into motive." They showed photos, autopsy reports, financial trails.

But the defense? They had one strategy: make the jury feel. One by one, they summoned the widows, the surviving wives. Lyla, in her wheelchair. Another woman, who had fled the country. A daughter who'd watched her father beat her mother half to death before Vesper “intervened.”

Each one broke the courtroom like waves. The judge was visibly shaken. Reid watched from the second row every day. Always silent. Always with that expression—not pity, not judgment. Something heavier.

during the cross-examination the prosecution asked: “Did you think you were above the law?” She replied “No. I knew the law didn’t see people like me.”

“Is that why you became their executioner?”

“No,” she said, voice sharp as a blade. “I became their reflection.”

Murmurs erupted in the crowd. The judge banged the gavel. It was time for the closing arguments. The prosecutor repeated his earlier words “She is not a vigilante. She is a serial killer.” Her defense spoke in clear, firm voice without a stutter “She is what happens when justice looks away too long.”

Outside, the press screamed. Inside, the jury disappeared into deliberation.

Three days passed. Three days in silence. She slept maybe four hours in total. Reid visited once. “They might convict you,” he said. “I know.” “They might not.” “I’m not hoping.” He nodded. “You don’t need saving, do you?” “No,” she said. “I am the fire. I don’t need a rescue. I burn.”

It was finally verdict day. The room was still. Cameras lined every inch. Jurors filed in, pale and tight-lipped. The foreperson stood.

“On Count One—Murder in the First Degree... We find the defendant...”

A beat.

“Not guilty.”

Gasps. Then—

“On Count Two—Murder in the First Degree...”

“Not guilty.”

One by one, the charges fell like dominoes. Acquitted. Cleared. The judge barely kept order. But Vesper... didn’t smile. Didn’t flinch. She stood like a statue carved out of righteous rage.

The verdicts fell like thunder in reverse—explosive, but emptying the room of oxygen instead of sound. Vesper stood motionless, dark eyes locked forward, unreadable. Cheers burst outside. Cries of outrage, too. Protesters clashed. Pundits screamed across networks.

But inside that courtroom, it was the judge who spoke next. He removed his glasses, looked down at her like a man exhausted by his own power. “Miss Vesper,” he said, slowly and deliberately, “this court may be bound by law, but I am not blind to what you've done.” She tilted her head. Still silent.

“You are acquitted—but let me be clear: You are not innocent. You may believe yourself a sword of justice, but justice without due process is just revenge. And revenge is a dangerous drug.” A pause. “I do not presume to lecture you on the pain you've witnessed. Nor the failure of institutions to protect the women who trusted them. But this is your official warning.” The courtroom quieted again.

“If you take the law into your hands again... this court will not show you the same mercy twice. You will not walk out next time.” Still, she said nothing. But her gaze burned like a brand. Not defiance—truth. Because both of them knew: mercy hadn’t saved her. Fear had.

Later, walking out of the courthouse, flanked by her attorney, she caught sight of Dr. Reid through the crowd. He didn’t approach. But he didn’t leave either.

“What do you say to people who call you a killer?” She met the camera dead on. “I say you should ask why I had to become one.” Then she walked through the crowd untouched—like a ghost, or a goddess. Reid watched the footage that night. Alone.

And then she was gone. Not vanishing into the crowd—but becoming part of the story again. Not as a killer. Not as a savior. Something in-between. Something still watching. Because just outside the court’s reach, the world kept breaking.

And Vesper was still listening.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: The Hanker

Debut: Hank for Hunka

Uh-oh! The Hankwatch is going off, and you know what that means!

The Hanker is a cultural icon, dare I say phenomenon, to such a degree that I'm surprised we've never covered him before. Everyone remembers tuning into Cartoon Network and meeting him through the TV special "Big Woods Blues"–originally a Tom & Jerry short, the sudden closure of the Van Beuren studios meant they had to find a new star to, in their words, "crave that cheddar." Luckily, while passing through a delicatessen, Fred Barbera saw the most lovely blob of cheese, and decided to make a character based off that; the rest, is history!

The rest, is history!

It was a surprisingly formula compared to other cereal mascots: instead of starting with stealing cereal or saving it, each one would begin with children eating junk food in a field, only for the Hankwatch to start chiming offscreen. Everyone remembers the sound it would make, less like a pocket watch and more like the droning noise of an old church bell: DING. DONG. DING. DONG. DING. DONG. DING.

Every time the watch would ring, we'd laugh and laugh at the kids who had to 'feed' the Hankerer; the only way to do that, of course, was by eating a hunk of cheese themself. While the Hunkwatch was almost always offscreen, I always had a particular fascination, however, with the ones that did pan to the Hunkerwatch, but everyone remembers what happens to the kids in those commercials.

The rules seemed simple to play at first. Whenever the Hungrier chimed his tune ("I hanker for a hunk of the slab, a slice [...] I hanker for a hunk of cheese"), you and your friends scrambled to eat as much cheese as possible until you were the last one remaining. Promoting a healthy diet, it's easy to see why he rose to the top of iconic animated film stars!

But I think we can all agree the "wagon wheel challenge" commercials were always the most intriguing. He'd demand a wagon for his wheel so he could finally get wed, but each wheel would be absent until the kid ate an entire wheel of cheese. What was particularly peculiar was how the cheese started out moldy to the point of almost rotten, yet seemed to become lively and good as new again as the kid ate more and more; the kid itself, meanwhile, greatly decomposed. It was especially strange watching it happen to someone right next to you, but they'd always refuse your help, so, nothing you can do, y'know?

Being a cultural icon, it's no wonder he's leant his image to media of all sorts. The GameBoy game trilogy was always my favorite. Everyone remembers controlling him to move across sticky kitchen floors and dirty refridgerators just to find some cheese to eat, regardless of taste or quality. It taught kids a valuable lesson about eating healthy, and its consequences. The Hunter doesn't want you to stifle your diet, he wants you to be free to eat whatever cheeses you want, whenever. It was such a beautiful message.

Everyone remembers the Cheese Craze of the 90's, following Henker's revival in "Hunka Hanker," where kids were free to see him once again. They even started making commercials of him, freeing him from his original video animation hell. Each level had you climb up ladders and capture keys to rescue the princess, only for her to find out what happens when the Hankwatch goes off. When I think of that ending, I can only laugh and laugh.

Live action reboots are all the rage these days, and though his popularity has plummeted, he's expected to reappear in the live action remake of "White Cheddar Blues," where he will be portrayed in glorious organs and bones. It's said that the ending will finally reveal what happens when the last child eats the final wagon wheel, so keep an eye wagon peeled!

People take this for granted now, but it's kind of wild this boss from a seemingly one-off Mario game got to reappear so often, isn't it? He gets to have two (POPULAR!) subfranchises all to himself even! Even Bowser barely if ever gets his own games, yet this common mook does? Everyone remembers when these were new and garnered mixed attention, but you don't see anyone complaining about them anymore! Guess you can say the cheese is in their mouth now!

Initial fears that the combination of storm damage and flood waters might produce a "toxic soup" in downtown New Orleans have been downplayed by experts in environmental science. While the threat of pikauba, bergenost, and Humboldt fog is certainly increased by the contamination of the flood waters and sewage, many of the chemical companies located in or near New Orleans survived the storm without spilling dangerous contaminants in the water. Of course, care should be taken not to ingest any of the flood water.

Now, as the Hanker would say, "Ta-ta! And so long, for now!"

[darcyfangirlsfrequently]

Reactions to CM 18.4!

I am sure I'm gonna cry again

Okay I gotta admit... this ruse is incredible

Emily emphasizing "we don't" bc she knows at least half the team could not give a FUCK what happens to him

Wheels up!!!!

who are they looking at

JJ! What are you doing here?!

Tara calling her "hon" 😭

Luke smiling bc he's so happy to see his friend 😭😭

JJ why do you sound surprised that Penelope is hugging you???

The way I laughed in victory just at the way Luke said Penelope's name???

And the way he's smiling at herrrrr. Garvez crumbs.

ughhhh this feels like a horror movie I hate itttt

JJ what are you up to???

Ohhhh JJ

Okay so all of you who have been complaining "why didn't they just get Penelope to take BAUGate down" can shhhh bc clearly they DID

"Fucking bullshit" JJ babes even LUKE believes it now. He has amnesia.

I love JJ and Emily's friendship. Yes I said friendship. They're FRIENDS.

"Better than you" emily why on EARTH would you say that

"Am I a bad person?" That is putting it SOOOO fucking lightly

I understand that Ochoa is just trying to do her job but she seems WAYYYY too unfazed by the fact that her patient KILLED LIKE 70 PEOPLE

Emily, Tyler, and Luke on the jet!! Love!!

Oh this reminds me of the episode where the guy was amputating people just to try to learn how to get his wife a new functioning leg

Oh this poor girl has no idea what's happening

Oh so Malcolm wants the skin for his daughter and Brad wants the organs to sell. Fun!

"Please kill me" HEARTBREAKING

her not telling him why he needs a surgeon seems like a bad idea

oh it's a dream okay that makes more sense

"I'm tech savvy enough to push the right arrow key" "You sure are!" I love these two

Ohhh I love those two so much

Voit shaving his hair! Farewell floof!

Went from "Dad" to "I don't feel safe around him"

Where are they??? Why have we not seen what led them to the point of storming a medical facility???

Help why are Tyler and Luke so FUNNY

Penelope being surprised Tyler is calling her AND teaching him manners. Tynelope is so dead 🤣

FINALLY Penelope uses slang in a way that works

I can tell that Tyler is trying to flirt with her but Penelope is like "Kindness! yay kindness!"

Oh this poor girl

Rossi don't fuck shit up!!

"why would I like that?" this is interesting to me. that he remembers liking the kill but that it repulses current him

Shit, Brad's out

Ariel baby DON'T do whatever you're thinking of doing

The sheer horror she must have to realize she is covered in the skin of her father's victims

SHIT ARIEL JUST GOT HER OWN DAD???

Oh Luke just picked her up like she weighed nothing more than a bunch of grapes. I know I have some friends (@lklvz and @mortalscience) who are going feral rn

Oh god she wanted to see the stars before she died 😭😭😭

Tyler I love you SO MUCH

Also, now Luke and Tyler have both had a young girl die in their arms. I wonder if this is gonna be more bonding for them

PLEASE be Luke and not Emily who talks to him on the jet

Emilyyyy you're getting in the way of my bro bonding (I bet luke is just in the back talking to his gf)

Oh Emily did NOT just say "taking some Ls" that made me GAG

Ohhh this is the scene from the trailerrr

Actually a lot from this episode was in the trailer

JJ I'm gonna need you to listen to the doctor

Fffffffucking hell

JJ is Rossi's daughter through and through

Everyone is seriously acting their ASS off this season it's really good

[in1-nutshell]

IM SORRY I ONLY GET IDEAS WHEN REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, PLEASE TAKE YOUR TIME AND ADD THIS TO THE BOTTOM

Fearless buddy being sent to the tfp universe at first made me want the tfp team prime to see mtmte Megs interact with buddy and have a crisis over the fact that Megs became a dad, to a human no less.

and then I realized, no. no I dont want team prime to just react to mtmte megs, I want these fuckers to get yeeted into the portal one by one and suffer through the general chaos of the lost light.

Arcee - What was that?

Swerve - oh thats just Skids, you can tell cause when Buddys' in the vents it sounds more like a pitter patter.

Arcee - WHY ARE THEY IN THE VENTS?!

Drifts gets double to Ratchets to simp for

Optimus curls into a ball and cries when he sees Megatron with an autobot badge and being a decent person

Tailgate fanboys and asked for an autograph, yes he knows that its not their Optimus Prime but he's cool none the less

Miko quickly finds Buddy and Whirl and Rodimus quickly grabs Bumblebee and Smokescreen. Ultra Magnus has his back turned for for ten minutes and suddenly the Lost light has been turned into a race track with Swerve handling the betting's and a small world has declared war on the lost light, stating the instigators was a human and two mechs, one of which kinda sounds like the Apex armor.

Brainstorm finds Raf and gets into a custody battle for him with Ratchet.

Optimus and Megatron both have a conversation and get some kinda closure from it.

Ultra Magnus nearly cries over Jack being responsible and polite. he loves buddy but why did they get the well mannered human

plus the rest of the autobots being fucking flabbergasted at how Megatron is with his tiny organic child

In short: C H A O S !

There simply would have been way too much to cover with just this request alone. So, I've tried to condense everything down to 4 key highlights of events that defiantly happened during the trip. This would also be assuming that this is also the same universe as Old Predacon Buddy.

Hope you enjoy!

Fearless Buddy gets a visit from TFP Bots

SFW, Platonic, Human reader

TFP/MTMTE

4 Conversations and confrontations that have defiantly happened during the visit

Meeting the Co- captains

The bots had just arrived at the Lost Light via portal and met Buddy once again.

Buddy wanted to bring them to the med bay just to make sure everything was okay with their systems.

Optimus was the one to have Buddy on his servo as they pointed the way to get to the med bay.

How did they not come across any other crewmember?

That is beyond them.

But just before the team made it to the med bay a streak of black came in front of the bots.

“Who are you and what are you doing on board?”--Ravage

Buddy waving from Prime’s servo.

“Hi Ravage!”--Buddy

Ravage takes notice of Buddy and pins his audials back.

“Let them go now!”--Ravage

Ravage tries swiping at the Prime, but Arcee fires a warning shot.

“Don’t even think about it.”--Arcee

“Wait can’t we all calm down—"--Buddy

Multiple heavy pede steps are heard.

“And now he’s coming…”--Buddy

“Who’s—”--Jack

Megatron and Rodimus come running from the corner and stop behind Ravage.

Megatron has his fusion cannon ready and Rodimus is powering up.

Everyone is tense.

“All right Fake Optimus, put Buddy down and no one gets hurt too badly.”--Rodimus

“Fake Prime? This is Optimus Prime.”--Smokescreen

“Yeah, and Megatron isn’t Buddy’s dad. That’s not Optimus.”--Rodimus

“Excuse did you say that bucket head there was Buddy’s dad?!”--Miko

Buddy nods and pats Prime’s digits.

“Just pass me to Rodimus while I explain everything.”--Buddy

Optimus hesitates a minute before handing Buddy to Rodimus.

Buddy Jumps from Rodimus’s servo start onto Megatron’s arm, which freaks everyone out for a minute as the ex war lord does catch them.

“Buddy we’ve talked about this.”--Megatron

Buddy stick’s out their tongue.

“Can someone please explain what in Primus’s name is going on?!”--Magnus

“In a bit Magnus.”--Buddy

“Wait, wait wait, this is Magnus?”--Rodimus

Rodimus looks at him amused.

“Just wait til Minimus finds out.”--Rodimus

“Who’s Minimus?”--Wheeljack

“In a minute, now to the med bay. Ratchet should take a look at them before anything else.”--Buddy

“Ratchet?”—Team Prime

“Me?”--Ratchet

Rodimus and Buddy turn to each other with a mischievous smile.

Megatron just sighs tiredly.

This was going to be a long day… or week even…

2. Ratchet confrontation and some honorable mentions

Both Ratchet’s nearly have a stroke when they see each other.

The team gets checked out by every medic available.

Buddy manages to catch everyone up overall on the ‘alternative universe’ fiasco. Everyone manages to understand for the most part.

Megatron watches Buddy like a hawk while also sending a message to Minimus on the situation.

He could practically hear the stroke happening from here.

MTMTE Ratchet taking a double look at everyone’s energon levels.

“How are any of you even functioning?! Your energon levels are so low you shouldn’t even be standing up right?!”—MTMTE Ratchet

TFP Ratchet huffs.

“Unlike this universe, energon is not a common thing to run by. Naturally the levels are going to be low.”—TFP Ratchet

“I’m not saying that it is, but what I am is astounded on how any of you are still even talking. And you especially.”

Optimus looks curious.

“What are you referring to?”--Optimus

MTMTE Ratchet takes a deep vent and lets it out.

“Your Ratchet has the lowest energon levels out of your entire team combined! Miracle that he is even with us.”--ratchet

Bee buzzes angrily.

All MTMTE bots look at him worriedly.

First Aid comes over to him.

“What happened to your voice?”—First Aid

MTMTE Ratchet, Ambulon and Velocity join in crowding Bee.

“His voice box was damaged in the war on Cybertron. Our Megatron damaged it.”—Raf

Bumblebee looks down a bit.

The medics are all looking at one another.

“We can see what we can do here, if you’d like Bumblebee.”—MTMTE Ratchet

Bee buzzes happily as Raf hugs his digit.

Drift enters the med bay.

“Hey Ratchet, I heard you yelling in here, is everything—”--Drift

Drift looks at the scene in front of him stopping dead in his tracks.

His optics land on TFP Ratchet.

Buddy looks at him mouthing ‘No!’

“Who’s this guy?”--Smokescreen

“I finally made it to the Afterspark.”--Drift

“What?”—TFP Ratchet

“That’s just Drift just ignore him.”—MTMTE Ratchet

“Ratchet I don’t think that’s going to be possible.”--Buddy

“I HAVE TWO RATCHET’S NOW!”--Drift

Drift pulls them both into a hug.

TFP Ratchet is struggling to get out of his grip while MTMTE Ratchet just goes along with it.

“Buddy, who’s that?”--Wheeljack

“And why is he hugging Ratchet?”--Bulkhead

“That’s Drift, he’s Ratchet’s Conjunx.”--Buddy

All TFP Bots nearly have whiplash at how fast they move their helms.

“HIS CONJUNX?!”—Team Prime

“MY WHAT?!”—TFP Ratchet

“Not yours.”—MTMTE Ratchet

“Aww Ratty! You do care.”--Drift

“RATTY?!”—Team Prime

Several members of Team Prime laughing on the med slab so hard the medics are on standby.

3. Kids custody

Tfp team goes to the bar.

Kids stay with Buddy in the human safe portion of the bar to get some food.

Everyone is staring at them.

But to be fair they did have way different frame types than everyone else in this dimension.

Buddy yells at them for being rude.

That they help them in their time of need.

Suddenly everyone is in a much better mood.

Swerve serving Team Prime some engex.

“Any friend of Buddy is a friend of ours. Drink up fellow bots!”--Swerve

“Thank you Swerve.”--Optimus

Prime feels something poking his side

He looks at a white minibot poking his side holding a data pad.

“Hi! I know your not this universes Optimus, but can I still have your autography!”--Tailgate

Prime looks a bit surprised but he gives in.

“Thank you!”--Tailgate

“And what may be your name?”--Optimus

“I’m Tailgate!”--Tailgate

Arcee spits out her engex, Bulkhead calms her down.

“Is she okay? I didn’t upset her right?”--Tailgate

Arcee walks up to Tailgate, who is roughly around her size.

Cyclonus walks up behind Tailgate as if daring her to do something dumb.

She eventually holds her servo out.

“I’m Arcee.”--Arcee

Tailgate hugs Arcee instead.

“Thank you and your team for taking care of Buddy while they were away!”--Tailgate

Arcee is holding back tears as she gives into the hug.

“SHE’S ARCEE!”--Rodimus

Many bots look over with curiosity and some with fear.

Bulkhead looked over at the human table to find it empty.

“Hey where are the kids?”--Bulkhead

“Oh! Whirl took them around the bar when you weren’t looking.”--Swerve

“Whirl? Who’s Whirl?”--Magnus

Swerve points to the helicopter bot with his cockpit open.

“That one who’s trying to fight with Getaway.”--Swerve

Bulkhead, Wheeljack, and Ultra Magnus navigate their way to Whirl.

He turns to show Buddy and Miko laughing in the pit.

“So, you’re this little monsters guardians?”--Whirl

“Yes—”--Bulkhead

“Well, TOO BAD!”--Whirl

Whirl places a protective claw over both of the giggling humans.

“SHE’S MY OTHER AMICA NOW!”--Whirl

“They are not your Amica—”--Magnus

“Actually I’m his.”--Buddy

“And that’s something we’re going to talk about later. Miko—”--Wheeljack

“ITS WHIRL JR. NOW!”--Miko

“Miko no!”--Bulkhead

“MIKO YES!”--Miko

Meanwhile with Arcee…

Arcee stares at MTMTE Magnus, Cyclonus, Tailgate and Pipes.

Pipes and Tailgate are asking him all sorts of questions.

“Ultra Magnus. Cyclonus.”--Arcee

“Arcee.”—Magnus and Cyclonus

All three of them look over at the other three who are happily laughing at a joke.

All three mentally promise to destroy anyone who harms Jack.

Meanwhile with Ratchet…

Brainstorm holding Raf high above his helm.

“I HAVE FOUND MY CHILD!”--Brainstorm

“HE IS NOT YOUR CHILD!”--Perceptor

“Fine! Percy and Nautica we need to schedule visiting time—”--Brainstorm

MTMTE Ratchet taking Raf out of his servo.

“Leave the poor boy alone.”—MTMTE Ratchet

Drift looks over at MTMTE Ratchet and Raf and smiles teasingly.

“AAAAWWWW Ratty!”--Drift

Ratchet suddenly getting the hint.

“No…”—MTMTE Ratchet

“Yes…”--Drift

Drift no.”—MTMTE Ratchet

“Drift yes?”--Drift

“…”--MTMTE Ratchet

Ratchet hands Raf back to his counterpart.

“I think its best to keep him in check.”—MTMTE Ratchet

“Will do—HEY!”—TFP Ratchet

Brainstorm once again nabbing Raf from him.

“Mine child! Now Rafael. Would you like to see my lab? It has all sorts of inventions in it.”--Brainstorm

“BRAINSTORM!”--Chromdome

Brainstorm starts heading to the exit faster before Skids tackles him down letting Raf to get thrown up in the air.

He gets caught by Swerve, who just puts him down next to him.

“…Do you like Bill Nye?”--Swerve

Meanwhile with Rodimus…

Has Smokescreen and Bumblebee both thrown over his shoulder looking at Megatron and Magnus.

“Please?”--Rodimus

“No.”--Magnus

“Too bad.”--Rodimus

Confused car noises intensify.

Later on, Optimus and Megatron are found in one of the booth having some whispered conversation.

No one knows what they talked about, but both came back from it looking tired yet somewhat happy.

4. Promise to meet each other one day in the future

A couple days pass, the portal comes back.

Tfp team says their goodbyes.

Buddy wishes them good luck and to say hi to their alternative.

Portal closes.

“Wait you said, ‘other Buddy’, there was another Buddy?”--Megatron

“Oh yeah, but they’re an old Predacon.”--Buddy

“AN OLD WHAT?!”--Whirl

Meanwhile back in TFP…

The team comes out of the portal groaning at the semi harsh landing.

June and Agent Fowler came running in.

June nearly tackles the kids asking so many questions their heads are spinning.

The team explains what happened.

“Would have guessed that after Buddy’s explanation.”—Agent Fowler

“Heh, hey where is Buddy anyways?”--Bulkhead

“Bet their taking a nap.”--Miko

“Nope. After four hours of you guys ‘disappearing to the other dimension’ they’ve been trying to keep everything under control. They’ve been increasing patrols and energon digs.”—Agent Fowler

“They should be coming in soon.”--June

Heavy wing flaps are heard from the main entrance.

“June! I think another rocks stuck in my—”--Buddy

Buddy stops to take a good look at the team before going in for a group hug, spreading their wings as much as possible.

“Thank the Primes your all safe.”--Buddy

“Woah! Buddy, your…umm…”--Smokescreen

Buddy looking down at their dented and dusty self.

“Someone had to pick up on the patrols. The Decepticon’s couldn’t know that you were gone.”--Buddy

Optimus places his servo on Buddy’s shoulder.

“Rest old friend. We can take it from here.”--Optimus

Buddy just yawns and moves to their spot near the human area and slumps down hard and falls asleep.

The kids go over to Buddy to see if they are still awake.

They were out.

[usoinked]

Study With Me Instead (Jimmy Uso X Black Reader)

Summary: You had a biology mid-term tomorrow and you were stressing out to hell and back, so you call your boyfriend Jimmy over since he knows what stressing out over an exam is like all too well. You’d think he wants to calm you down…well he does but not in a way you’d expect 😉

CW: 18+ MDNI, Sexual Content, Missionary, He Talks You Through It, Big Jim (literally), Foreplay, Unprotected P in V, Creampie, He Takes Good Care of You, Happy Ending ꨄ

Word Count: 4.9k+

The low hum of your desk lamp illuminated your cluttered desk. A pile of biology textbooks and notebooks surrounded you like an unrelenting sea of knowledge, all threatening to swallow you whole. You had barely glanced at the clock in the last hour, but when you did, your heart skipped a beat. Midnight. You had less than twelve hours before your biology mid-term, and you felt the weight of it press down on you like a ton of bricks. The outlines of genes, alleles, and Punnett squares were blurring together in a mess of confusing letters and symbols. You should’ve felt at least a little confident. You’d been studying for days—highlighting the textbook, scribbling notes in cursive, organizing your flashcards. You had everything planned out. But tonight? It felt like you were drowning.

You pressed the back of your hand to your forehead, wiping away the beads of sweat that had formed in the late-night heat of your room. You hadn’t even realized you’d been staring at the same page for the last 10 minutes. Your natural hair, once neatly pulled into a bun, had started to fall out of place, curls escaping in every direction. You didn’t even care about fixing it. You were way past caring about your looks—hell, you could barely focus on your notes at this point.

Your notes were a masterpiece in their own right. You’d taken the time to write everything out in smooth bubble letters and regular arial, every word flowing neatly and consistently, highlighting key points in neon green, mint green, and some dark green here and there. Your handwriting was your pride and joy, a reflection of your discipline. You had always prided yourself on being a good student, organized, thorough, and dedicated, but right now, none of that seemed to matter. It felt meaningless, like you were trying to hold water in your hands. Your mind was all over the place.

The clock on your phone read 12:30 a.m., and panic gnawed at your insides. You had a biology exam in less than 12 hours, one that would cover everything from basic genetics to the difference between identical and fraternal twins. That last section was the kicker—the one that made your brain seize up. It wasn’t just about genes and alleles. It was about understanding why people like Jimmy’s twin brother, Jey, were so different, even though they shared the same DNA at birth.

Fraternal twins, you thought. But what’s the actual difference?

You tossed your pen to the side in frustration, rubbing your eyes. You hated that you couldn’t remember the difference off the top of your head. The question had been nagging at you all night: What made identical twins share the same exact genes, while fraternal twins didn’t?

That’s when your phone buzzed on your desk. You glanced down, a smile tugging at your lips when you saw the message from Jimmy. “How you doin’, babygirl? Need me to come over?”

You exhaled in relief, feeling the familiar warmth of his words spread through your chest. Your fingers hovered over the keys as you debated what to write back. There was no point in pretending you had it together. Jimmy always knew when something was wrong, so you might as well tell him.

“I’m stressed as hell. This bio exam is kicking my ass. I need help, but I can’t seem to focus on anything.”

You pressed send and then bit your lip, hoping he would answer quickly.

Seconds later, your phone lit up again. “I’m on my way. You know I gotchu. I’ll be there in 15.”

You didn’t waste a second. You stood up from your desk, stretching your arms over your head as you paced for a moment. The nervous energy you’d been holding in your chest started to simmer down at the thought of Jimmy. You always felt better when he was around. He was more than just your boyfriend; he was your rock, the person who always knew how to pull you out of your stress, even when you didn’t ask for it.

When you heard the familiar sound of his laugh outside your door, you couldn’t help but smile. He was here.

You opened the door to find Jimmy standing there, looking every bit as laid-back as ever. His dark, curly hair pulled back neatly into a low ponytail, his dark jean jacket with black sleeves and a white hoodie to accompany it underneath only added to his style along with his jeans underneath, his beard was a little shorter than usual and trimmed neatly, and his Samoan-American features—strong jawline, deep brown eyes—always seemed to light up when he saw you. The whole outfit gave him that effortless vibe you loved. Even at midnight, he had that calming presence, the kind that made everything feel okay.

“Hey, bae,” you greeted him softly. You didn’t even try to hide the exhaustion in your voice. “I need help. This bio stuff’s got me all twisted.”

He grinned, stepping inside without a second thought. “Of course, you do. You always wait ‘til the last minute.” He shook his head affectionately, though there was no judgment in his tone. “Don’t even trip. I gotchu, okay?”

You led him over to your desk, where your notes were scattered across the surface, along with textbooks and sticky notes. Jimmy raised an eyebrow as he took in the sight of it all. “Damn, girl. You really went in on this, huh?”

You shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed by the mess you’d created. “Yeah, but none of it’s sticking. I can’t wrap my mind around this genetics stuff. You know—alleles, genes, and twins.”

“Twins? You trippin’. You know Jey and me are fraternal twins, right?” Jimmy said, dropping down onto your bed and making himself comfortable, a teasing smile pulling at his lips.

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, but I don’t get how you and Jey can be twins but still be so different. Like, what makes you fraternal?”

Jimmy stretched out on your bed, one arm behind his beanie, looking up at the ceiling as he thought for a second. “Alright, so check this. Identical twins come from one egg and one sperm. They split in two, so they got the same genetic makeup. That’s why they look the same—same genes, same everything.”

You nodded along, catching the gist of it. “Okay, that makes sense. But what about fraternal twins?”

He grinned, sitting up a bit, clearly excited to explain. “Fraternal twins come from two different eggs and two different sperms. So, while they’re born at the same time, they don’t share the same genetic makeup like identical twins. That’s why me and Jey look different as hell. We might have some similar traits, but we don’t look exactly the same. It’s all about how our genes mix with the environment. We got different alleles for different traits. That’s why he’s built like a linebacker and I’m more like a point guard, ya feel me?”

You laughed at the comparison, finally feeling like the information was sinking in. Jimmy always had a way of making things so much clearer when he explained them, even if he had to use humor.

“So… Jey and you could have different alleles for things like height, hair texture, skin color, right?” you asked, leaning in a little closer, your fingers tapping lightly against your notebook.

“Exactly,” Jimmy replied, his voice a little quieter now, as if he wasn’t just explaining genetics but something more personal, something that made him feel close to you. “Even though we share the same birthday, same family, we could still have different gene expressions. We just ended up with different genetic mixes. It’s like a cosmic lottery, honestly.”

You smiled, feeling a lot more relaxed about the topic now. “Okay, okay. I think I got it. You and Jey might share the same genes, but the way they express in each of you is different.”

He nodded, giving you that easy, comforting smile that made everything seem possible. “Exactly. And don’t even sweat the exam, babe. You’re gonna ace it. I’m here for you—always.”

You exhaled, feeling the tension in your chest loosen just a little. You weren’t sure what it was about him—whether it was the way he cared or the way he made things easier to understand—but you couldn’t help but feel a lot better. You weren’t sure if it was just the biology talk or the way he made you feel like everything was going to be okay, but you knew he was right. You did have this. With him by your side, you felt your stress start to melt away.

Jimmy sat up fully now, moving closer to you as he gently brushed a curl behind your ear. His touch, warm and familiar, sent a little jolt through you. He always had a way of making you feel special, even in the middle of a late-night study session.

He leaned over your desk, his eyes scanning the notes in front of you before he reached for the highlighter, tracing over a few words you hadn’t gotten to yet. His arm brushed against yours as he worked, and for a moment, you forgot about the exam altogether.

“So,” he said softly, his gaze flicking up to meet yours, “besides your exam stress, how you feelin’?”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden question. You hadn’t really given much thought to how you were feeling emotionally. Physically, your body felt drained, but emotionally, you realized you were more than a little worn out.

“I’m alright, just… a lot on my plate, you know?” you said, your voice quiet.

Jimmy turned his body towards you, his expression softening. “You sure? Because if you need anything, you know I’m here, right? Like, if you want to take a break, or… get your mind off all this.” He paused, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. “I can think of a few ways.”

Your stomach fluttered at his words, your pulse quickening. He was always so laid-back, but there was a depth to his words, a warmth in his tone that made you feel… seen. He didn’t just want to help you study; he wanted to make sure you were okay in every way possible. And, as much as you tried to fight it, the thought of taking a break with Jimmy sounded a whole lot better than the pressure of the exam.

You chuckled softly, trying to regain some composure, but your voice was laced with a hint of teasing. “You really think I can just forget bout this exam?”

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “I think… a little distraction might be exactly what you need.”

The air between you thickened, the chemistry between you undeniable. His scent, a mix of cologne and something deeper, filled your senses, making it hard to think straight. Your heart raced, and for a moment, you wondered if this would be one of those nights where you finally let go of the stress, letting him distract you as he always managed to do so well. The space between you seemed to shrink with every passing second, and though the biology textbook and your notes lay untouched, your attention was on him—on the way his deep voice resonated in your chest, on the way his hand brushed against yours once more, this time lingering, a subtle touch that sent a shiver down your spine.

You glanced at the clock on your phone, the seconds ticking by faster than they ever had before. Maybe it was the exhaustion or the warmth of his presence, but you didn’t feel like facing another moment of pressure tonight. The exam was tomorrow…well technically later on today, but right now? Right now, all you wanted was to let go of it, just for a little while.

“Jimmy…” you whispered, almost unsure of what you were about to say. You wanted to break the tension, but your voice faltered as your gaze drifted from his eyes to his lips. He noticed, of course, noticing everything about you, the way your chest rose with each breath, the way your body had softened against his presence.

He didn’t let you finish. Instead, his fingers moved softly, gently over your hand, and he leaned forward, his breath warm against your skin. The connection between you both was so palpable that it almost felt like an invisible thread was pulling you closer to him. His lips brushed against your temple, a tender kiss that only added to the heat building between you.

“You good, mama,” he murmured, his words almost like a promise. “You don’t have to stress no more. I’m right here.”

The calm reassurance in his voice settled something in you, as if you didn’t need to carry the weight of your exam, your grades, or even being perfect on your own anymore. He was right. You’d been struggling with the stress of the exam, trying to shoulder the pressure of it all alone. But here he was, offering you not just help with the material, but a release, a moment where you could stop thinking and just feel.

You took a breath, your hand finding his, squeezing it lightly, silently accepting the escape he was offering. “Yeah… I guess you right.”

Jimmy didn’t need another word. His fingers slid through your hair, tugging it gently as he moved even closer, leaning in until there was no more space between you. You could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, against your own. His lips hovered just above yours, a teasing distance that made your heart race even more.

“I gotchu,” he whispered, the promise in his words grounding you. “I’m here. You don’t have to do anything but be with me right now.”

The words sank deep into your chest. You didn’t need to worry about the exam anymore. For once, you just let go and gave in to the feeling of being cared for, to the warmth of his touch.

Your lips met his softly at first, a gentle, almost hesitant kiss, testing the waters. But that hesitation quickly melted away as the kiss deepened, the warmth of his mouth against yours like a balm to the tension you’d been carrying for days. His hands roamed gently, sliding down your arms, pulling you closer into his embrace as if he wanted to remind you that, in this moment, there was nothing else but the two of you.

You melted into him, your body responding to his touch as if it had been waiting for it. His scent, his warmth, everything about him felt like home—a place where you could be free from the worries that had been clouding your mind. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, and for a moment, the only sound was the gentle rhythm of your breathing, mingling with the distant hum of the city outside your window.

“Tell me if you wanna slow down,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin as he pulled away just enough to look into your eyes.

You met his gaze, the intense connection between you both undeniable. You shook your head, your fingers gently threading through his hair. “I don’t want to slow down,” you whispered, the words coming out more breathlessly than you expected. “I just wanna be with you. I don’t care about nothin’ else right now.”

A slow, knowing smile curled at the corners of Jimmy’s lips, and he nodded, his thumb tracing along your cheekbone as if memorizing the feel of you. He’d always been so in tune with your needs, reading you better than anyone ever could. Tonight, that was exactly what you needed—someone who could remind you that, despite all the stress and chaos of life, you were enough. You were worth more than the grades, more than the late-night studying.

He kissed you again, more urgent this time, as if he couldn’t wait any longer. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer until you could feel the heat of his body pressing against yours. You responded just as eagerly, your hands tracing along his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. Every touch, every kiss, was like a promise of something deeper, something more meaningful.

“Do you trust me?” he asked softly, breaking the kiss for just a moment to look you in the eyes.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you nodded without hesitation. “I trust you.”

“Good,” he whispered, his lips curving into that playful grin you loved so much. “I’m gon’ take care of you. Just let go, aight?”

You nodded again, feeling the last remnants of stress fade away. The tension that had been building in your body dissolved as you leaned into him, letting yourself be fully present in the moment. There was no exam, no late-night studying, no pressure. It was just you and him right then and there. and that was more than enough.

He pulled you closer, his hands guiding you gently as he led you to the edge of the bed. The way his hands roamed over your skin, so gentle and reassuring, made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. As his lips brushed against yours again, the kiss was more passionate, a little less urgent now—no longer just about comfort, but about something else entirely, the sheer need between the both of you slightly intensified with each roll of your tongues.

Jimmy’s hands gently guided you backwards onto the bed as your hands grabbed onto his arms and slowly came up to his wrists. His voice was so comforting, you two had sex before but you always got so nervous when you both first initially started. But Jimmy was always there with you to make sure you were okay and comfortable any time you two were intimate. His hands gently snaked their way up your white tank top before making his way to your neck and leaving a trail of kisses down your neck toward your collarbone. “You’re so beautiful mama”, he cooed against your chest before taking off your tank top slowly, the fabric rubbing against your skin as it came off over your head. The semi-cold air hit your dark nipples as Jimmy’s warm hands acted as a heating pad. The friction from him kneading your breasts together, causing your skin to warm up and a soft moan to slip from your parted lips. Jimmy’s lips also parted as he took one of your nipples into his mouth coating it in his saliva causing a moan to erupt from the back of your throat and your hands to end up on the back of his beanie which you slowly pulled off after a moment and tossed toward a random corner in the room.

“J-Jimmy” you pleaded as he turned his attention to your other nipple but you were getting desperate. Your hips couldn’t stay down and your legs wouldn’t stop moving, the sharp jolts of electricity coarsing through your breasts each time Jimmy’s tongue hit them was so pleasurable but you needed more of that stimulation…elsewhere. Jimmy noticed too because he slowly pulled away while his eyes locked onto yours.

When he looks at you like that, it’s a gaze that feels like it’s cutting through all the noise around you. They didn’t have any urgency or desire, but with something much deeper—tender and protective. The intensity was there, but it wasn’t forceful. It’s like he’s silently saying, I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.

His pupils were soft, you could feel the weight of his attention, as he placed soft kisses down your stomach and snaked his fingers around the bridges of your green sweatpants before slipping them off and tossing them to the floor. It was like he was absorbing every piece of you, with just his gaze along, the actions were just an added bonus.

That warmth in his eyes, it was such a a care that wrapped around you even when he wasn’t saying a word. His hands slowly massaged your legs, his rough hands contrasting against your smooth melanated skin before he leaned down and caught the helm of your panties between those perfect white teeth as he pulled those off of you too leaving you completely exposed to him.

His grip around your legs suddenly became apparent as he pushed them aside, exposing your pussy to him further. “Just relax, okay?” He said before leaning between your legs and pressing his tongue against your folds, the skin tissue in between your legs being disrupted by the muscle between his lips. A tiny gasp escaped from you before you felt his tongue began to move up and down the slit in between your legs, his eyes staying focused on yours completely, your hand eventually grabbed onto his and he caught the memo because his intertwined with yours at that moment.

His tongue dived deeper in between your folds before finding the opening to your entrance and immediately exploring it causing your other hand to make its way onto his head, your fingers running through his scalp as another gasp escaped from you. The more his tongue moved, it was like your body became less rigid, your hips grew a mind of their own, and your breathing became more and more sharp. The jolts of electricity that coarsed through you with each roll of that muscle was exhilarating.

Feeling some of your liquid pool around his tongue, Jimmy decided to take it up a notch and move his tongue upward towards your clit before suddenly attaching himself to the tissue. His tongue skillfully rolling around it as he began to suck on it causing more of your wetness to spill from your opening and your hips to move upward once more and one of your hands to grip onto his while the other gripped onto his scalp. You no longer let out gasps, they were full on moans because of how good it felt. The feeling of his beard rubbing against the bottom half of your pussy contrasting with his tongue giving all of its attention to the top half did something to you. It was insane.

“I’m g-gonna c-cum” you breathlessly stated before all you got in response was a moan from Jimmy who took it upon himself to flick his tongue at a faster pace and moan against your clit on purpose knowing the pleasure it caused. Your core was tightening and your pussy was already spilling, but it was nothing compared to the orgasm that suddenly hit you like a truck when Jimmy flicked his tongue again. Your hips bucked themselves forward as your hands pulled away from his scalp and gripped the sheets under you. “S-Shit!” You moaned out as your chest rose and fell rapidly as you rode out your high, the exam becoming a background thought to the pleasure you just received.

Your body shook as Jimmy kept going, making sure to lap up every bit of your wetness which caused you smile from pleasure and amusement. After he was done, you used your other hand to pull him toward you before kissing him, tasting your aftermath on his tongue and some of his beard but your hands handled that for you. Both your hands gripped the sides of his cheeks as your thumb rubbed over his beard getting some of it on them too, but that wasn’t a thought either because the moment you pulled away from the kiss you stared at Jimmy before licking both your fingers clean before smirking.

“You are somethin’ else f’real girl” he said as he took off his clothes tossing them to the floor before smiling and pinning you to the bed as you chuckled slightly. “But you love me.” You said kissing his nose. “You damn right” he said before planting a soft kiss on your lips to which you returned. His cock hit against your leg as you bit your lip the moment he pulled away from the kiss before looking up at him. He slowly positioned his mushroom tip at your entrance but not pushing in yet because he wanted to make sure you were okay before doing anything further.

You could feel how big he was by the tip alone, the exam was the last thing on your mind, it was to a point where you damn near forgot that it existed. “Lemme know if you need a moment, alright?” He murmured before stroking his dick a few times and slowly pushing into you slowly expanding your walls, earning a gasp of pleasure with a hint of pain from you. You two hadn’t had sex it in a while due to how busy you had both been and it was more so pleasurable than painful, but damn he was still big and your walls had to recalibrate and get use to the feeling all over again. And it was amazing.

Jimmy paused but he wasn’t even halfway inside of you to which you weren’t surprised but still, he was so big and you knew the more he pushed, the fuller your insides would feel. “You okay Y/N?” God he was such a caring boyfriend. “Y-Yeah, you can p-push the rest of i-it in.” Jimmy saw you stutter and knew how stubborn you were but that was one of the things he loved about you. “Hold onto me” he commanded which you happily obliged as your arms wrapped around his neck, his hands gripped your waist as he pushed into you further, his dick eventually sinking into you all the way to the base earning a loud moan from you as your legs trembled once. “I know, it’s in there now, you’re okay.” He reassured but didn’t move till you told him to, which didn’t take long because boy did you wanna feel that Samoan dick creating a stress free environment inside your mind and outside. The moment Jimmy received the okay, your legs wrapped around his waist for more stability as he pushed and pulled out of you. Your walls moving back and forth each time his dick entered and exited, you couldn’t help but make eye contact with him knowing that it was him who made you feel like this.

The world around you two melted away the moment his lips met yours as yours reciprocated, both your tongues meeting one another in a heated tongue battle while Jimmy made love to you. Because this wasn’t just sex, this was your boyfriend who was showing you how much he truly cared about you and was willing to do anything it took to make you feel better. As you pulled away from the kiss, your soft moans turned into much more louder ones the deeper he got, there was so much passion behind how his hips met yours that you couldn’t even wrap your mind around it. “J-Jimmy” you pleaded, your arms wrapping tighter and tighter around his neck and your legs wrapping tighter around his waist; his tatted muscles contracting each time he gripped your waist or the sheets that were currently getting messed up under you.

He hummed in response before soon enough you felt his lips and his beard connect with your neck, you could feel his tongue glide across the skin earning another moan from you as your fingers glided through his hair. Leaning your head back to give him more room, your moans suddenly became louder as you felt Jimmy brush up against that one spot you knew he’d eventually find. The shivers that sent through your body, you needed that again desperately and you begged for it. “R-Right there!” You pleaded to which he responded thrusting forward again directly towards that same spot all while his tip was currently diving towards your cervix. “Right there huh?” He said before pulling away from your neck and going back to making eye contact with you which made you melt into a puddle underneath him, your insides becoming a mess from how Jimmy was passionately turning your insides every way but loose. “Y-Yes!” You moaned out raising your hips slightly knowing your orgasm was getting closer and closer. “I’m c-close! Don’t s-stop!” You begged as you tried your best to keep eye contact despite your eyes rolling back. Your insides desperately gripped onto Jimmy’s cock as he kept hitting that spot before contracting as you came undone under him. “That’s right mama, let go.” You couldn’t help but scream his name as your insides became a puddle underneath him but you knew it wasn’t over because he hadn’t came yet. As risky as it was, you didn’t want him to pull out and you begged him not to.

“D-Don’t pull it out, c-cum inside me.” Jimmy looked a bit taken back but that expression quickly changed to one of satisfaction, your arms and legs still remaining locked in place around him. But Jimmy wanted it that way, having you wrapped around him where it was just you two, your mind not focusing on anything but him in this moment which he got. That combined with the fact that you were begging for him to let his seed out inside of you, and that you had just came undone because of him was enough to push him over the edge as his eyes didn’t leave yours. A loud moan escaped his lips as his hips kissed yours one last time before you felt that warm semi-thick liquid pool inside of you causing your head to fall into your pillow as Jimmy’s head fell into your neck, both of you panting from the events that just occurred.

After coming down from your highs, Jimmy planted a soft kiss on your forehead the moment you looked at him. “Still stressed out?”

“With the sex I just got? Hell no” you said before chuckling as he joined in.

“Nah f’real though. I love you, don’t stress so much alright?”

“I’ll try not to. I love you too.”

ꨄ

Authors Note: Don’t worry I didn’t forget about Jiimmy neither 😉

Authors Note #2: This was suppose to be a double upload with Jey but that Jey one was too good not to post I’m so sorry😭 hope y’all enjoy this one too though!

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