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anotherspnfanfic · 3 months ago

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Wrecked (Part 2)

Summary: Dean takes his time with some quality aftercare after your intense night together.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word count: 1500

Warnings: really mild sub drop if you squint

A/N: I'M BACK! Momentarily anyway. This was me wanting an aftercare fic because they seem to be hard to find! Then it turned into a collaboration with Michelle (@luci-in-trenchcoats) so go check out the smutty part one on her page! Enjoy! 🥰

Part 1

———

You felt like you were floating. As if you were having an out of body experience. Taking deep breaths, you tried to catch your breath and slow your racing heart.

Dean efficiently released your wrists from the restraints, rubbing over the reddened skin from pulling on the binds. He pressed gentle kisses across the marks before gently rubbing your sore shoulders. “You did amazing tonight, pretty girl.”

You hummed softly at his words of praise.

He tenderly kissed your forehead as you felt him press a straw to your lips. “Sip your juice for me, sweetheart.” You greedily sucked down the cool liquid before he pulled it away and set it on the nightstand.

He was quiet for a moment, and you panicked thinking he had left. You quickly peeled your eyes open just before the bed dipped under his weight. “There you are. You okay?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, reaching for him with grabby hands, wanting him closer. He laid down on his back and pulled you into himself. You rested your head on his chest, and he wrapped his arm around you and started running his fingers softly up and down your side.

Nuzzling against him, you squeezed him in a hug. He rolled onto his side, seeming to sense you were trying to get closer. He wrapped his other arm over your shoulder and his leg around your hip.

He peppered kisses over your forehead and cheek, everywhere he could reach without letting you go. “You were perfect tonight, sweetheart.”

You sighed contentedly and let yourself drift toward sleep.

Eventually, Dean shifted, disrupting your half asleep bubble. “Let's clean up and then you can sleep.” He moved to stand and you grabbed his hand before he could step away. “I'm just going to start the bath; I'll be right back.”

You shook your head. “Don't leave me.” You knew it wasn't rational, but you weren't ready to be away from him yet.

His eyes swept over your face, assessing. “You feeling a little extra clingy tonight?”

You hid your face in your pillow, suddenly embarrassed.

He leaned over and kissed your shoulder. “Hey, no need to be shy now. You can cling all you want, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere.”

“Take me with you.”

He hummed. “Okay,” gesturing you towards him, he requested, “stand up.” He patted the bed in front of him.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, but did as he'd asked and stood on the bed.

He turned his back to you before looking over his shoulder. “Hop on.”

You stepped closer, and he wrapped his hands under your knees and lifted you into a piggyback ride. You squealed as you grabbed hold of his shoulders to stop yourself from falling backwards. Giggling, you tried to shift into a comfortable position as he walked toward the bathroom.

Once he'd turned the water on for the tub to fill, he set you on the counter and pulled out your toothbrush. He put toothpaste on it and handed it over before doing the same with his own.

Toothbrushes replaced in their holder, Dean lifted you off the counter in a bridal carry and shifted to set you carefully in the warm bath. He held your hand as he stepped in and settled behind you. “Warm enough?”

“Just right.” You rolled your eyes. He asked every time even though the water was always the perfect temperature. “Thank you.”

“You don't have to thank me for taking care of you.” He kissed along your neck and shoulder as you melted into him. “So you still want me to throw out your mini vibe?”

“Dean,” you grumbled, getting a chuckle out of him.

“No, no, I’d never take away our favorite little helper.” He rubbed your shoulders gently, kneading the tense muscles. “We should just get you a spreader bar though so you stop misbehaving once and for all.”

“Don’t tease me with a good time,” you mumbled, burrowing back into his warm body.

He reached for the cup on the edge of the tub and scooted you forward enough to tilt your head back. Then, he washed and conditioned your hair before washing your body and himself. All the while, he continued to praise you as he littered your neck and shoulders with soft kisses. When the water started to cool, he pulled the drain and stood.

After quickly drying off and wrapping a towel around his hips, he helped you to stand and wrapped an oversized fluffy towel around your shoulders. He helped you step out of the tub and then rubbed his hands over the towel to dry you off. Once he was satisfied, he traded the towel for your rainbow colored robe with unicorn designs all over it. It never failed to make Dean laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

“Sit,” he requested, leading you towards the closed toilet seat. He ran the towel over your hair, ringing out as much moisture as he could. Next, he grabbed the blow dryer from where it lived on the counter and your brush and then spent the next several minutes brushing and drying your hair.

Once he was done, he took your hand and led you back to the bed. He moved over to his dresser and pulled out clothes—a pair of boxers for himself and a pair for you, along with one of his softest henleys. He untied your robe and pulled your arms free. He rubbed lotion into your skin, taking extra care over all the reddened marks he'd left.

He pulled his shirt over your head and held the arm holes open for you to more easily slip into. Finally, he knelt on the floor in front of you and helped guide your feet into the boxers.

He crawled up onto the bed and pulled you in with him. He settled in the middle and wrapped both arms around you like he had earlier. He kissed the crown of your head. “Get some sleep, sweetheart.”

You slowly started to wake and snuggled into the bed. Shifting, you rubbed your nose, suddenly realizing that that was not a pillow.

Dean chuckled, and the sound vibrated through you. You were lying fully on top of him, your head on his chest and your legs pulled up on either side of him. You tried to roll off him, but he was too fast and wrapped both arms around you and hugged you. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Morning. Sorry for using you as a body pillow.”

He kissed the top of your head. “I don't mind. I was going to go make your breakfast in bed, but clearly, you had other plans.”

“It's not my fault you're so comfortable.” You lifted your head so you could kiss his chest. “What were you planning on making?”

“Bacon,” he announced. “What do you want? Pancakes? Eggs?��

Your stomach growled loudly. “Yes.”

He finally released you so you could roll off him. “Both, got it. Let's go.”

Half an hour later, you were sitting at the kitchen table with pancakes, eggs, bacon, and a large mug of coffee as Dean settled in across from you.

You both ate in comfortable silence until you finally pushed your mostly empty plate away. “I can't eat any more. I'm stuffed.”

He shot you a cocky smirk and a wink.

“Oh, my god. Get your head out of the gutter.” You couldn't help but laugh as you tried to scold him.

He just chuckled as he stuffed more bacon into his mouth.

“Do you want to go grocery shopping with me?” you asked. “Maybe we could also go to the bookstore, and I can buy a new book… or ten.”

He shook his head. “I was thinking more like a lazy day hanging out at home.”

You stood and took your plate to rinse it off. “Why? We need groceries, and I'm almost done with my book.”

He brought his plate over, set it in the sink with yours, and wrapped his arms around you. “Both those things can wait until tomorrow.” He kissed along your neck and shoulder. “You dropped a little harder than usual last night. Just let me take care of you today, please?”

You spun in his arms and wrapped your arms around his neck. You could see he needed this the same way you had needed him to stay close. “Fine. Deal. But only if I get to pick what we watch.”

He rolled his eyes. “You're going to pick another princess movie, aren't you?”

You shook your head. “I was thinking more like the Christian Bale Batman movies.”

Quicker than you could anticipate the movement, Dean had you thrown over his shoulder as he walked toward the living room. He unceremoniously deposited you on the sectional before settling in beside you and pulling your feet into his lap.

You grabbed the remote and opened Netflix. As you searched for the first movie, he started to rub the arch of your left foot. “Okay. You win. Your plans were better.”

———

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #spn fanfic #dean winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction #my gif

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miss-tarja · 2 months ago

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Mi Dulce Cereza (Pt. 5)

WARNINGS: Emotional distress, graphic mentions of injury treatment, power play (Employer-employee), character introduction, implicit jealousy, risky behaviors, gun handling, cursing, novela level drama.

Summary: The cracks in Miguel's vendetta started showing.

A/N: After months of not updating this one, here's this little offering. Hope you like! Feedback much appreciated.

Previous Series Masterlist

The acute ringing and distressed voices still thundered through your head with powerful echoes. The chaos had clung for a second too long on your bones even after you were brought to safety. All thanks to James’ opportune help and Vicky’s presence.

Not only had the press swarmed you, but so did your parents, a couple of medical staff, some helpers, leaving you with little to no space to breathe, to cry or even react. Mayhem. Was the only word you could use to pinpoint at what revolted in your head. So many voices calling you, including Miguel’s faint plea, jumbled in this mess of overlapping shouts that increased your heart’s beat, until Vicky took your head gently and placed it on her chest after the car’s door slammed shut.

Even if the manor was some couple of blocks away, James had been ordered to drive you back, so the medics could help you out at once. Your parents wouldn’t risk it to let unfitting photos of your vulnerability to roam Santa Margarita’s newspapers and sink even more their now tarnished reputation.

“You're safe now, mi niña .” Vicky breathed. It was the only voice you needed right now. The only one you’d listen to, and the only person you wanted around.

Screw your parents, screw that gorgeous brunette that leeched off Miguel’s body, screw everyone that laughed the moment everything went to shit, and definitely, screw Miguel. The latter broke you into thousands of tears that dissolved into Vicky’s poncho. Her soothing embrace was the hero for the night, same for her unspoken comfort words.

The pain and shame had been too much for you to stand against them in a single fight. They had won in a flawless victory against broken promises, angry and reproaching shouts from your parents in the front seats, and of course, being the new laughingstock in town.

Despite the throbbing pain in your left arm, clinging to Vicky supposed your immediate solace. Comfort that vanished as soon as you got to your room, your sanctuary of sorts that none other than your beloved nana or the cleaning staff had access to. But now, it would be turned into a public room thanks to the unwanted visits and pity you’d receive from strangers and friends alike.

Oh God, no.

The medics rushed to your side, ready to slice the dress’ sleeve to shreds if needed, but Vicky helped you to change into something more comfortable before the realigning of your bones began. One doctor took your pressure as the other one flashed the bright light to your eyes, to discard the possibility of a concussion. Your fall had made quite the impression on many.

Besides a pounding headache and your anxiety shooting for the stars, there weren't any other serious injuries that required immediate attention in your arm. A ghastly sight met the experienced doctor’s scrutiny. And you didn’t have to be a trained individual in the arts of diagnosis to know it was bad, as he seized your swollen, reddening and definitely bruising arm where the ropes had tangled themselves around you, with a solemn face.

“Hold her still please.” The doctor instructed and your eyes widened in utter horror when Vicky used her whole frame to hold you in place.

“W-Wait, Vic-”

The pained wail that left your lips echoed through Cherryville, stopping animals and people’s existence for that brief moment, earning some couple of frightened barkings and bleatings outside, just as the physician pressed on your wrist, trying to assess how deep the damage had been and realigning as much bones as he could, despite you trying to pull your hand back to escape the good intended torture.

“We’re almost done, Miss Anderton!” the doc hissed, as he wrapped your hand and wrist in tight bandages to keep the disturbingly misplaced and dangling limb, somehow back into its place. But pain once more overpowered you, leaving the galen no choice but to sedate you, for you to sleep as much as you could through the night.

Much to his little surprise, your parents and a good bunch of people waited outside, even Miguel, who finally gathered all the courage he could to approach and see or hear what the damages had been. But the doctor’s news made most of the attendees wear their concerned faces in a go.

“Good news it’s that her arm isn’t broken, she’s strong. But, I had to sedate her so she could sleep the whole night.” His gloved fingers fixed his lenses, “Miss Anderton needs some X-rays and MRI’s to see how bad the dislocation is. And depending on what we find, we’ll start treatment.”

“Thank you, doctor.” William nodded while he removed his hat and fixed the graying strands. Patience flickering the more everyone’s eyes lingered on him.

And when the doctor and his assistant left, the tension falling upon the manor proved denser than William's stubbornness. None dared to utter a peep, not even the night critters that remained well hidden from the Pastor’s silent wrath.

“William.” Rosaura however was the brave one to face him, she called with that tone many in the manor knew by now as an upcoming fight.

“That’s enough, Rosa. This is not a freak show for everyone to see.” William dismissed her with a flick of his wrist as he made his way towards his own sanctuary. But his wife wasn’t having it.

“Freakshow?! Freakshow is the one our daughter gave in front of more than two hundred people and the press, goddammit! What… what were you even thinking!?” Rosaura’s voice pierced through everyone’s eardrums, buzzing them with vexed notes of disbelief. And those were enough to stop the Pastor in his tracks. The patriarch turned around to face his wife with a look Miguel knew all too well. The same boiling look he gave Conchata back when he first showed up in his old home. And Rosaura’s mouth snapped shut.

“That’s. Enough.” He seethed Rosaura through gritted teeth, his cheeks warming up but not in embarrassment, but a deep rooted anger simmering below the surface, waiting to explode to either the right or wrong person that dared to defy him.

Of course he wouldn’t let strangers know the extent of his wrath, as it was only reserved for those that had earned it. Problem was, he had none else but himself to blame, as he had been the one demanding you to change horses last minute. Nevertheless he called James, another helper nicknamed Wilbur and the horse master himself, Miguel.

That had no choice bit to follow the group, with pursed lips, gritted teeth and words ready to punch the Pastor’s ego if needed. His plump mouth itched to say “I told you so” , because he had. Oh, he had, and now you were injured. Yet, unlike William, Miguel recognized half of the fault was his. His promise of being there for you was not only broken but trampled over more than he wanted to admit.

In his defense, he really didn’t know that Dana would show up and distract him as he was trying to reach the construction master, back at his property to fix the lighting system for his future home. The news of him not showing up for more than two days sure had crisped his nerves. And then, the unwelcomed kiss of his pestering shadow happened, taking him completely by surprise, just as chaos unfolded outside.

But none of his explanations would manage to wash away that defeated and hurt look you wore when James pulled you out of Oddie’s dangerous riot. None of it would get his reputation clean again with you. Hopefully you hadn’t seen the kiss with Dana, or else, any chances of you speaking his way again would go out the window for good. He hoped not.

As much as he needed you for his plans, he knew that getting you physically hurt wasn’t anywhere in them. Until now. It had happened in such a fleeting momentum that didn’t give him the time to properly brace himself for the impact. And now here he was, ready to fight the current tragedy’s instigator with valid arguments stashed in his pockets.

The door clicked and William plummeted on his creaking chair. “You three are in charge of my horses’ rehab. Am I right?” William spoke while removing his hat so the three young men could look at his eyes. They nodded, William followed. “What’s the estimated time lapse of a rehab, Mr. O’Hara?”

“It all depends on-” Miguel’s lips tightened into a thin line as William interrupted him.

“I don’t want depends , I need numbers, Mr. O’Hara.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Anderton…” his fist clenched in each side of him, blazing eyes pinning the holy authority in his spot. “I don’t rush things, especially horse’s rehabilitation, as it prevents accidents, like today’s.”

Anderton’s eyes narrowed as James’ and Wilbur widened ever softly at Miguel’s bravado.

“That’s why I hired you, Miguel .” Oh, how the bastard dared to speak his name so disdainfully?, “I was promised a professional to-”

“You have him.” He bit. But you’re not listening . The words nearly spilled without his permission, but an unnecessary quarrel wasn’t in his list, not when the tension weighed everyone in the room with its oppressive presence. “That’s why I'm telling you, it all depends on the horse. Oddie needs at least two months-”

“See? You gave me numbers. I’ll make it simple for you, if two months on Oddie isn’t rehabbed, He’d be put down, and all of you fired. Am I clear?”

Neither Miguel nor William’s gaze backed away. Both too proud to back down their clashing stares.

“...Yes, sir .” His mouth tasted sour, dirty and defiled every time he called his enemy with the regard William clearly lacked towards him.

“Oh, and Mr. O’Hara… Let’s keep it professional and tone it down, shall we?”

Miguel nodded through flaring nostrils, glad his massive back faced the apparently holy but wealthy man or else, William could see the pining for educating him in his countenance, itching a bit too all consuming to turn around and punch Anderton's mouth with all the strength he knew he possessed.

Pendejo…

He truly couldn’t help it. Every time that William spoke, his ears wished to be deaf. His heart spiked with an unpleasant mix of anxiety, reprisal and a newfound, bottomless anger the more the haughty pastor expressed his contempt with things that dared to exist around him on certain days.

At least I’m not fired.

The thought probably roamed the other helpers as well, since color returned to them as soon as they stepped out of William’s office. The discreet and triumphant smile donning Miguel’s lips only widened upon realizing that William just wanted to intimidate them in order to hide his own guilt, cause he didn’t mention anything regarding you or the parade. Or asked where he was at the moment chaos waltzed in, uninvited.

But that satisfaction was overshadowed by the sudden thought of your pained screams, along the rejection clear as the moonlight, in your eyes. It wasn’t a hatred look per se, but disappointment at its finest. The same he’d get from Conchata whenever his naive and younger self advised her to forget about revenge, to just move on with their lives and make a new start somewhere else.

As if. Miguel had inherited hatred, and Conchata always made sure to remind him of the opportunities he missed due a lack of a proper home he could call his. She always made sure to remind him of the little compassion William had shown towards them, and as a man, his task was to fight and retrieve what was his. And it was his duty as the eldest, to see that rotten legacy accomplished.

But a part of him, reduced as it was, urged to apologize. Physical damage on thirds wasn’t something he liked to indulge in, since he was more of a cunning and strategic oriented man.

He didn't need dirty tactics such as violence, not when his brain could come up with creative solutions to whatever problem showed up. And hopefully, your kind nature would lay a chance for him in order to try and fix what he broke with both hands and meaningless pretty promises.

It was times like these where Miguel didn’t know if the universe was his ally or foe. One moment there it was, conceding the yearnings of his heart by handing the tools for his vendetta in a silver plate, to then having you, avoiding him like the black plague at all costs. Like if his mere presence would bring an end to your existence if he ever approached you again.

The trip back from the doctor just soured his mood upon watching you, returning with a sling and a special brace wrapped around your wrist the next day. You had sprained it. The main reason why you didn’t grace everyone’s day with your presence back at the dining hall. He didn’t feed the thought too much back then as it was only natural to assume you were recovering.

That, as soon as you could, you’d be leading again the meal services. Problem was that days stretched into clumps of a week. And silence on your end just rooted with a steely resolution. Just when he thought he had the chance of approaching, an accusing and cold stare seized him, -almost disgusted-, before your heels turned around to return from where you came from. Or changed the walking route from a hall away to avoid interacting with him.

It was a look he’d never had the fortune to experience, until now. There were no more tinkling eyes that shone with all the emotion a woman your size could muster upon seeing him. Just apathy seasoned with a sprinkle of detachment. There were no more sweet and shy smiles whenever your eyes met his own on accident.

Just an impassive face that carried the weight of unknown expectations on her shoulders. And when the universe forced a brief encounter between you, nothing but cold politeness came his way. There were no more good spirited 'Good morning, Miguel' he had grown used to hearing in the little time he had worked in the ranch, but simple and emotionless nods of acknowledgement, along an aloof 'sir'.

Just when he thought his severing ties with people’s skills were unmatched, here you were, proving him how wrong he was. How expendable and fleeting his presence had been in your life. And that stirred a conflict he hadn’t felt in years. Unpleasant and sour tasting as it was, he disliked being casted aside. He had been left in the cold for so long in his younger years due the lack of privileges, he had no option but to grow used to it.

That didn’t mean however he enjoyed it. The cold shoulders, the diminishing stares, the curiosity that eventually turned into disgust in his peers' eyes, whenever they found out he and his family sojourned the city’s shelters, it all lingered forever engraved in his brain. But this rift, this deafening silence was all his doing. And the fact he was upset at not being able to fix it right away, just poked at those emotions he had buried in order to be the man he was today.

It was a pretty easy task, or so he thought initially. All he had to do was get his revenge through you by using you, recover what was his, evict the intruders of his home and have his family satisfied so he could enjoy the reward of his well planned vendetta. But a part of his brain had forgotten everything but one thing, to apologize. In fact, it was the very first thought he had as soon as he woke up.

And the thought wouldn’t leave him alone, even if he poured himself into work and tried to play this ‘I’ll ignore you too’ game with you. It roamed his mind like a stalking ghost, especially when you were alone. He had tried to approach you, but your message was loud and clear.

Leave me alone.

The other part of his brain tingled with curiosity, as he didn’t peg you for someone that would recur to this sort of treatment over a mistake. He had underestimated you completely, but also gave him a glimpse, tiny as it was, of your temper. The true self you maybe repressed for the sake of appearances. After all he had seen how these played a key role in Santa Margarita’s social life.

Hell, he had seen the vast amount of delivery men with outrageous bouquets and ‘Get well soon' cards in them parading through the entrance the first three days after the parade’s fiasco. For a moment he really thought William had decided to give it a go to the flower business as well since they adorned a whole dining table.

He also remembered how Rosaura was completely on cloud nine upon reading one card from a sumptuous and exotic bouquet arriving on the third day. Miguel also witnessed the many business partners William had, paying a visit to you. Some old, other youngsters that tried to increase their likeableness points with you.

His lips curved in arrogance. If they knew that he, a supposed simpleton of a worker, had been the only one in making a mess out of your nerves by a simple smile of his, they’d be all palsy-walsy with him.

But now, he had to think in ways to catch you alone, make his move and apologize. Cause God forbid his mind to keep ruminating on how to talk to you again. He needed to focus to erase the persistent image of your braced wrist replaying in an endless loop in his brain.

Two weeks had gone by and his heart began making abnormal tempos whenever he saw you on your own. Yet his feet refused to make the first step.

It all mattered little however when a helper interrupted his rehabbing time with Agustin, by instructing him to prepare the horses and to wear a shirt with his last name embroidered over his left pocket with the logo of Cherryville on top, as they had a visitor coming over. Uniforms weren’t his thing as they never fit him properly. And the shirt didn’t seem to be the exception as it looked two sizes too small.

And honestly, he couldn’t care less about formalities right now. Not when he had to prepare a good bunch of horses for someone that wouldn’t be interested in buying in the first place. It also piqued his curiosity. Who was so important that Rosaura herself supervised that everything was in its place? Everyone and everything seemed unusually perfect and impeccable. Even the staff members looked copy pasted since they all wore the same shirt.

Scary.

Rosaura had this penchant for grinding his ears with her squeaky and entitled voice as she barked order around the ranch. For a moment he pitied the cooks as the pastor’s wife returned the entrées, since they were too uneven looking for her tastes. Even Vicky followed her like an unwilling company dog, making sure everything was alright.

Miguel’s shoulders tensed when Vicky approached, patience escaping her pores thanks to Rosaura’s ridiculous demands at the last minute.

“ Ey , Miguel. Did Johnson come and tell you about the horses?”

“Yeah” He nodded, hanging the shirt on his shoulder. “All of them though?”

“What? No, no! Don’t waste your time. Just get Luisito and Midas ready. Maybe Horatio as well. Just in case. Mr. Kravinoff likes the exotic ones. And wear the shirt!” Vicky warned while leaving, and his brow quirked.

Kravinoff. A surname that echoed like a broken record back in his college days but never had the chance, nor interest in finding out more about them, even to this day. He shrugged and headed for the tack room.

How long has it been since Vicky came? His nose flared, frustrated. If there was something that really pissed him off, it was for people interrupting him in the middle of something important just to return whenever they pleased.

Fucking rich

His eyes rolled for a third time, but Agustín’s whining pulled him out of that vexed trance.

“¿Cómo la ves, campeón? Me piden cosas y ni se molestan en venir.” (How about that champ? They ask for things but don't even bother about em later.)

The stallion could only shake his head as if agreeing with Miguel while he brushed his mane. Although the silence and distance between you two had proved a nuisance, Miguel found himself deepening the bond with the horse. And it didn’t help that Agustín didn’t let others ride him or come closer. So far, only Miguel had the authority and enough trust with him to react positively.

Agustín had been his anchor in the middle of this new chaos of unidentified feelings and dilemmas. Other horses like Luis, sure had his attention, but the black beast in particular had wormed its way into his revenge-filled heart.

Just when Miguel was about to check Agustín’s horseshoes, a familiar laugh had his ears perking at once. That saccharine and melodious laughter could only belong to none else but you. He had provoked a couple of them back before you retreated to silence, yet the sound had been engraved subconsciously in his mind.

His breath stuck in his throat for a second longer than it should’ve, when you crossed the threshold, donned in a comfortable pair of jeans that snugged your figure like a second skin, flaunting the right amount of curves around your hips, thanks to the belt wrapping with greed on your waist. A red flannel shirt that coincidentally matched the visitor’s top. Brown leather knee boots, your signature Stetson hat and now wrist brace.

Of course he wasn’t immune to your country-like charm, if anything your laughter just brought out the complete package. And it had been a while since he heard this much joy in your persona. It suited you way better than the emotionless yet polite greetings you received him with. His eyes shifted to the man next to you.

Tall, muscly built, a warm sand skin tone, proper of someone that spent a lot of time outdoors. Draped in a red button shirt with rolled up sleeves, making a show of his well worked arms along some black jeans and boots. Miguel’s eyes raked his face and he found nothing but strong features. Not as strong as his, but manly enough to make the intruder irradiate an imposing and unyielding aura with each step he took.

There was also a narrow and sharp nose that flared joy whenever he joined your laughing, bushy brows that framed a pair of expressive and amber eyes that turned golden whenever the sun poured into them. Despite the beard covering his neck and strong jaw, it remained well groomed and kept, like the shiny, dark and wavy locks perched on his head. Slicked back with elegance.

Miguel’s brows couldn’t help but crinkle in mild amusement. Maybe he had found on his own the type of man you were attracted to, because he could dare to say the man was like a more refined, paler and shorter version of him. His red eyes rolled and his nose scoffed. His mind couldn’t help but wonder if you were flaunting yourself on purpose, as if to throw at his face that everyone but him deserved your attention.

Yet, the man had you laughing with the same type of smile he had induced in your short-lived talks. What was so funny anyway?

“Still, you were brave and held onto him, that’s no easy feat.” The man spoke and soon you both forayed into Miguel’s territory. Only then the horse expert could see the strange piece dangling in the man’s necklace. A lion tooth.

“I was told I’d find the most beautiful horses here in Santa Margarita.” Miguel’s ears didn’t let the russian accent slip away, “Glad I wasn’t lied to. Look at that!”

Much to Miguel’s and your surprise, your companion clicked his tongue and made the golden horse a signal for it to approach. Miguel frowned, aghast that a stranger would take such liberties in his playground and for you to allow it. He cleared his throat.

“Sir?” He called to the pretty boy and approached him, “This training area is closed for now, if you want to, I can take the horse to the other ring.” Offered Miguel curtly.

“My apologies for that. It’s been a while since I saw an Akhal-Teke.” He cleared his throat, “Sergei Kravinoff, or Kraven for shorts, licensed professional hunter and Miss Anderton’s friend, at your service.” The Russian offered his hand and Miguel didn’t have a choice but to shake it with a wary countenance and a tight grip, which Kraven tightened.

“Miguel O’Hara. Rehabber and agricultural administrator.” He spoke flatly, glancing briefly at the tightening handshake.

“I’ve heard great things about you in my short stance, Mr. O’Hara. I’ll know who to come to if I get my own horses.”

“So, you know about horses too?” You quipped from the other side, ignoring Miguel.

“Not as much as he does, I bet.” Sergei chuckled and Miguel just curled his lip in a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes as he let the guest’s hand go, “But I can spot a quality horse whenever I see one.”

Midas approached with an elegant trot, letting the sun to bath him, honoring its name as it shone under the sun rays like a beast pulled out from a fairytale. He allowed Sergei to pet him before trotting away.

“What’s his name?”

“Midas.” Muttered Miguel, flatly as he crossed his arms on his chest. “Let me bring you his chair.”

“Oh, no. Don’t worry about it.” His hand shook, stopping Miguel, but then gestured your way. “Unless krasotka* here wishes to ride her horse.” (Gorgeous)

Your cheeks warmed with embarrassment when the attention of both men turned to you. Miguel’s brow quirked ever lightly at your reaction. But Sergei huffed, pleased to cause such a response on your end. You cleared your throat.

“I think I’ve had enough rides for a while.” Your eyes darted to the brace, nesting a bit too comfortable around your wrist. “But if you wanna ride them, go ahead.”

Miguel had also seen your eyes casting down towards your injured limb, and tartness bloomed in his tongue. It was a not so subtle reminder of what he was unable to keep safe. And the broken promise that haunted him with unexpected shame.

Agustín whined, snatching the attention from the three. Sergei’s eyes twinkled with wonder, but before he could approach the ring the black stallion was, Miguel came in between his line of sight. Despite the lack of emotions plastered in his face, his voice sapped all the excitement in Sergei.

“Agustín is off limits, sir. He’s currently on his rehabbing sessions. Going in unprepared would be a significant danger for you. The least we’d like is another accident. Do we?”

Your jaw tensed, and your eyes couldn’t help but narrow at Miguel.

Cynic.

“That would be unfortunate indeed.” Your arms crossed on his chest, “Good we can count on you going nowhere, right Mr. O’Hara?” Your mouth couldn’t help but backfire with a tinge of anger that made the aforementioned gulp, taken aback by the sudden implicit bite of your words.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, señorita .” But he quickly recovered to reply in the same dark hint of sarcasm as you.

Jerk!

Your mouth nearly opened to fire again, but Sergei interrupted the verbal spar before the sudden hostile and volatile tension exploded between you both. All it needed was the right or wrong spark for it to roar alive.

“It’s alright, Miss Anderton. I’ll take Mr. O’Hara's warning at heart.” Sergei offered his arm on your good hand and you took it. Allowing him to take you out of the training rings without much hesitation.

You didn’t bother to look back, despite Miguel’s eyes burning holes into your body.

And once you were out of his sight, Miguel could only chuckle. Completely delighted at the brief yet fierce encounter. Curious as to what you were about to tell him if it wasn’t for Sergei’s intervention. But oh the need to see more of those glimpses again made his heart shimmy with a thrill he rarely felt, for they have fuelled him with a healthy dose of adrenaline and a much needed bickering after a long while of silence.

Ever since that clash with you, Miguel kept a discreet eye on your activities. Just to see if he had more of those exquisite peeks of your newfound anger. Sadly, you had been too busy with Vicky, disappearing into a corner he hadn’t seen yet from the ranch. Whatever serious and grim expression you carried to that spot, vanished by the time you were back.

You always returned radiant, a bit flushed on the cheeks with a satisfied smile plastered all over your pretty face the more you gained more mobility in your injured hand. Sergei had returned a couple of times, but unlike the first one where he witnessed just the two of you, your parents, especially Rosaura, seemed all too keen into receiving him and making sure he sat next to you on lunchtime.

The gossip didn’t take long to spread, saying how much Rosaura approved of Kraven as a new possible suitor for you. The idea of him being around didn’t exactly bother him, but he wasn’t fond of Mr. Kravinoff snooping around the horses to try and impress you with his superficial knowledge about them. Ad he just delayed his working hours.

The distant gunshot however, made him recoil by the abrupt boom echoing in the air, Agustín whined and pawed the grass with perked ears. “Easy there, champ.” His brows furrowed and the first thing he thought of was to reach for the walkie-talkie attached to his hip and ask for the rest of the horses that grazed in the upper fields.

“Wilbur is putting the mares out for a bath and I’m putting Oddie his horseshoes. Miss Anderton took Luis away.” James replied through the channel.

“Roger that. Over.”

His eyes narrowed to focus on the grass path leading to a new area he hadn’t seen yet out of lack of time, but another gunshot echoed, making both him and Agustin hold their breaths. When the third shooting echoed, Miguel didn’t waste time and urged Agustin forward.

A myriad of things ran through his mind. Who was shooting? What were they shooting at? Horses? Was that like how William got rid of the sick ones? Bile rose up in his throat, the hatred for the intruder family only increased once more at the mere idea of such inhumane kills. But all of his racing thoughts stopped as soon as Luis appeared ahead, calmed and grazing the ground before him

What the hell?

Luis remained tied to a post, in a prudential distance to not be spooked by the shootings. It took a moment for him to decide to follow and tied Agustín in there. To then walk over the now arid dirt road ahead. The smaller boot footprints led him to a little unevenness; he had no issue jumping off, just to stop at the rare, nearly fantastical sight before him.

The path had guided him to a makeshift shooting ring, where the dummies, strawmen with uneven circles painted in them, rested in pieces a couple of feet away from the wooden fence separating you from them.

Your Stetson hat made a wondrous job from keeping the blinding sun off your eyes, as you narrowed them to focus on the target. And your finger triggered a perfect shooting that blew in thousands of strands the strawman’s head.

Cerecita?

He had to blink twice to make sure what he was seeing was real. That the ever sweet and somewhat awkward pastor’s daughter had just shot in the bullseye a dummy, with a single hand. And not enough, recharged the revolver like if you knew the weapon from the tip to rear’s end. Flipping with expertise the barrel and throwing away the empty casquets on the ground, just to push a new set of dirty golden bullets in the now available six spaces.

And damned be him if he didn’t admit that when you tilted your hips left, to steady your shooting, his breath caught once more as the shot rumbled through the sky. There were no people around you. Just the revolver in your hand, the bullets stacked in a pouch and the controlled anger you let out with every shot.

Bendito...

His feet however, crunched over a bush, alerting you immediately. You turned, weapon in hand, aiming at him with the most resolute look he had ever seen in someone, ready to pull the trigger. And his cheeks flushed discreetly when his groin throbbed without permission.

Focus, Miguel.

“What are you doing here?” Oh the scowl adorning your lips was the final touch for this newfound admiration. There it was, the glimpse he was looking for.

“I didn’t meant to… interrupt. Cerecita.”

“Quit calling me that. It’s Miss Anderton for you.”

He chuckled like a teenage boy being finally addressed by an impossible crush, and that only deepened your frown.

“Wanna tell me what’s so fucking funny?”

God, you were killing him. Sweet and delicate on the outside but filthy mouthed and hot tempered with a gun in hand on the side. The perfect combination the doctor prescribed him. It was the right amount of sweetness and bite all together. Like a perfect and exquisite cherry. He definitely had chosen the right nickname for you.

“Discúlpeme, Señorita Anderton , but it’s not every day you hear his holiness’ daughter speaking and acting like this. Aren’t you supposed to be in therapy for that?

“What do you think this is for me?.” An annoyed huff escaped you, “Do you have a habit of following whatever horse you find lost?”

“It led me to you, didn’t it?” His head tilted

“What are you here for? I’m sure your shift isn’t done yet and Papa already has you in his sight.”

“Well, your… Papa can wait. Ididn't know I'd find you here, but guess I'll seize the chance and apologize for-.”

“I accept your apologies. Now leave me alone.” You huffed and turned to the dummy again, ready to shoot it. When he was about to rebut, you purposely pulled the trigger, silencing whatever excuse he was about to give you.

Far from being angry or offended, Miguel had to contain his mirth. It had been too much for his own good. He had been asking for more of that true self you hid from others, that was now smothered by it. And even to his own surprise, the thought of gladly dying in it crossed his mind.

“Will you at least let me explain myself?”

“No. Your insincerity speaks for you and it’s done enough. And I happen to have a terrible dislike for liars.” Your hand dismissed him while focusing on your target.

“Cerecita, look-”

“You promised to be there! Look at what happened!” Your voice raised an octave higher as you pointed at your brace, “You weren’t there.”

“I was busy attending a call for my property!” He grumbled without permission once more, it was as his tongue acted by itself in spilling the truth, ugly and uncomfortable as it was. “You really think I’d want this to happen?” He strode closer to you, trying to take a hold of your hands, which you quickly shook off.

“But it did! It happened, I screwed my hand because of you and now I must wait a couple of weeks more to get this shit off my arm. Do you even have an idea how scared I was? You out of everyone knew so!”

“Well, you didn’t seem scared when you showed up the other day with that guy in the stables.” He hovered over you, giving your nape a good bend as your head craned to see him. "What are you playing at, hm?"

Your whole face contorted in disbelief. How dared he to be claiming things when he started first?

“You’ve got balls to say so when you ate that brunette’s mouth, while working! Right after you promised me to be there!”

Shit

His mouth clamped shut. You had seen him with Dana. You knew.

“You really got the nerve to reproach me things you shouldn’t, and then you pretend I have no right to be mad and disappointed at you, when you’ve given me nothing but mixed signals?! Make up your mind, will you?”

“Hey, no. No.” He waved a warning finger at you. “Mixed signals? What are you talking about?!” Miguel shook his head, confused. Which only flared that anger within.

“Oh, fuck you!” The phrase alone surprised you, but damn him and his lies. Without much saying you took the bullet pouch from the ground and put the gun back into your holster. “I’ve got enough shit on my shoulders to worry about a man that doesn’t know what he wants, or knows accountability for his mistakes.”

Tremendos ovarios los que se carga para hablarme así. (She’s really got courage to sassmouth me that way.)

“God, you… You look adorable when you’re angry.” He grumbled loud enough for you to hear in between amused titters, holding his jaw. But far from amusing you, it only sunk him deeper in your black list of men to stay away from.

“Oh, then you're gonna love me when pissed. Leave me fuck alone, O’Hara.” You hissed before passing by his side. Disbelief taking complete control of your reasoning. Who did he think he was?

His hand grabbed your arm and pulled you effortlessly right in front of him. “ Hermosa , it’s not what you’re thinking.”

“I don’t care. I don’t wanna hear it!. God, I swear whe I really thought you different, but you just go and prove me you're like the rest of men in this city! Just because you’re handsome gives you the right to act like an asshole!”

“Oh, so you do think I’m handsome?” His smile stretched, cocklily, only to disappear when you pushed him away, begging for space. Disappointment on your end only deepened.

“Promises are important for me. And you… broke yours. Why should I believe anything you say?”

Miguel sighed, as his eyelids drooped with something alike guilt. He tried to tackle the problem with a pinch of humor, but it only backfired.

“You’ve said and done enough. Have a good evening.”

“Please, just let me-” His hands went up immediately as the tip of your gun’s cannon aimed his way, a steely scowl curled in your lip.

“I said, have a good evening. ¿Comprendes?” (Understood?)

His throat shut closed, his eyes rounded with skepticism as you left him there. Stranded with all his defenses on the ground, bare like if a hurricane had trampled over him, leaving nothing but another pang of something in his groin. He gulped after blinking away the dryness of his eyes. Surprise had kept them open for too long.

“Dios mio…” He chuckled, breathless. Still trying to process what on earth just happened. You had confronted him, put him in his righteous place, given him a good spoonful of his own medicine and most importantly, you had aimed his way with a gun while looking absolutely ravishing with the anger oozing out from every pore of your skin.

A skin whose heat lingered in his palm and fingertips. Tingling with this unknown but all too consuming sensation he found himself in the need to taste a little more and a little longer, against his better judgement.

“Damn you, Anderton.” He chuckled yet again, despite the new dilemma waltzing in his mind. Once again, an Anderton had screwed him. And far from igniting that urge of revenge like they all did, his mind was already drifting to a completely different direction he never imagined himself considering.

An Anderton,the sweetest of them all, had reminded him of his place, and he couldn’t help but like it.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

taglist:

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#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #t writes✨#mi dulce cereza #Ranchero! Miguel AU #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara #Spotify

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importantstudentbusinessspy-blog · 10 months ago

Text

Chilling

Masterlist

Pairing: Henry X Reader

Synopsis: You were in love with the blacksmith's boy since you were both children. One day, he stumbles into into the apothecary, covered in blood and wounds, asking for you. As the last survivor of the hunting party, you start to suspect what has changed him.

Tags: fluff, eventual smut, werewolves, friends to lovers, mutual pining, angst, danger, some death, gore,

Chapter 1

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the village into a shroud of cold shadows. In the dimly lit apothecary, you moved with purpose, tending to the sick under the warm glow of flickering candles.

The room smelled of herbs and remedies, a comforting scent that enveloped the two children and their mother nestled under thick furs. Your hands moved carefully, wrapping the children tightly as you spoke to them in a soothing tone.

"You see, this medicine is made from a special herb. It's like a little helper for your body," you explained, your eyes meeting the curious gaze of the youngest child.

"Why does it smell sour?" the girl asked.

You chuckled, “To me, it smells like oranges. Trust me, after a few sips, you'll feel much better and be playing with your siblings again."

Turning your attention to the reluctant boy, you's smile remained unwavering. "I know, it doesn't taste like your favourite sweets, but it is still good stuff. Drink up, and you'll be back to your adventures in no time."

The boy eyed the tea suspiciously and reluctantly took a sip.

As you comforted the children the mother's discomfort became apparent. Her forehead is damp with fever. You placed a damp cloth on her forehead and she sighed.

"You'll be alright," you assured before ushering the kids into another room, telling them to drink their tea.

Returning to the mother, you reassessed the situation. The bucket beside her bed was full, and she was wiping her mouth. A realisation dawned on you. You delicately asked, "Have you been intimate recently?"

The woman nodded, and understanding swept over. She was with child.

In that moment, the door creaked open, revealing the figure of Rebecca, the village healer, and your mentor.

Rebecca entered the apothecary, shaking off the snow from her cloak and depositing a basket of herbs and roots onto a table. "The cold has arrived sooner than expected this year," she sighed, eyeing the flickering candles that cast shadows on the walls.

Her gaze shifted to you, engaged with the now cleaned-up woman. A knowing smile played on Rebecca's lips as she assessed the situation. "Congratulations, Lucy. Wonderful news,"

As you helped Lucy with a wash basin, you made small talk about breaking the news to Michael, Lucy's husband. In the midst of their conversation, you couldn't resist asking, "How do you do that? Can you read minds?"

Rebecca snorted, not confirming or denying the accusation.

After everyone was cleaned up, children tucked back into bed, and Lucy given a herb to induce sleep, Rebecca noticed the weariness in your eyes. "The night has almost fallen. You should get some rest,"

"What about you?" You asked.

Rebecca dismissed you with a wave, "Don't worry about me. You've been working too hard. I can see it in your eyes. You shouldn't have to do the work of five people."

You chuckled, "Especially with winter colds."

The howling wind outside and the distant howl added an eerie soundtrack to their conversation.

"Sounded louder," Rebecca commented cryptically.

Perplexed, you asked, "What are you talking about?"

"The howling," Rebecca replied, your tone filled with a solemn warning. “One was louder than the rest…”

Oblivious to the ominous undertone, you shrugged and packed your things. "I haven't noticed. If you're okay here, i'll take that offer to go home."

As you opened the heavy wooden door, Rebecca cautioned behind you, "Be careful, y/n. No shortcuts."

With those words echoing in your mind, you donned your cloak and stepped into the biting night, leaving the apothecary behind, the wind carrying with it an unsettling howl.

As you ventured through the village on your walk home, the air grew colder, and darkness descended. Winter's biting cold pierced through your cloak, urging you to quicken your pace. The villagers had retreated indoors, leaving the streets eerily quiet, only the sounds of your footsteps echoing and the wind whooshing through the creaking, naked trees. The quietness was haunting, a stark contrast to the usual lively hum of the village.

Passing the dressmaker's shop, you glanced into the window, where a distorted reflection of a beautiful dress beckoned. You cast a brief glance down at your own worn garment. You've worn it almost every day for three years. The fabric clung tightly, showing your growth over the time.

A sudden snap to your right shattered the silence, and you spun. In the shadows, a pair of glowing eyes seemed to stare back at you. A gasp caught in your throat, and you broke into a run. The chilling wind whipped at your hair as you sprinted toward your brother's farmhouse at the edge of the village.

Reaching the safety of the familiar door, you stole a glance over your shoulder, heart pounding. There was nothing but the winter night. You hurriedly entered the house, shutting the door with a shiver, leaving the cold and the unsettling encounter outside.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

You closed the heavy wooden door behind yourself, and the warm glow of the farmhouse kitchen welcomed you. Your brother, his wife, and their three children sat around the sturdy wooden table, eating a hearty stew from a pot placed at the center.

Will, holding the twins and little Mary devouring your small bowl, greeted you with understanding smiles. "Sit, eat."

As you filled your plate, your brother's wife picked at the sleeve of your worn dress, the dirt from the day's work evident.

"Can you mend this for me, Sophie?" you asked her.

Sophie nodded, "Of course! Leave it with me tomorrow, and I'll have it done by the morning. Can you wear something else in its stead in case it takes me some time?"

You pondered your dress options while taking a scoop of the stew. "I have my festive dress, but there's also my grandmother's old work dress. It's a bit big, though."

Sophie grinned mischievously, "Festive dress it is, then. Remember the harvest festival? The butcher's boy couldn't take his eyes off you."

Blushing, you chuckled, gaze drifting to the window. Your mind lingered on Henry, the blacksmith's nephew. You secretly had a crush on him since you were both children

He lost both his parents and older brother to cholera. Had to grow up fast, becoming the first to apprentice at his uncle Jen’s smithy at the age of ten.

You, only seven years old at the time, found him captivating, though your friends didn't share the sentiment.

You were quite chubby as a child but harsh winters and harvests have made it difficult to stay that way. The same applied to him, although unlike you, who became thinner, Henry bulked. As the years passed, he transformed from a lanky, sickly boy into a broad and capable young man, drawing lots of attention from the village girls with his tall build, strong arms, constantly covered in veins and dirt from working at the smithy.

Despite the two of you being friendly enough, Henry hadn't seemed to notice you much, always engrossed in his important errands at the smithy.

Sophie's voice brought you back to the present. "The butcher's son is handsome and well-off. Perhaps think about it?"

"Perhaps." you considered.

As Sophie departed for bed, you cleared the table before removing your dress, leaving it for Sophie. You settled down on your bed in the kitchen in your night dress, covering yourself in a heavy wool blanket and turned your head to the side.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

In the midst of the night, you found yourself in a dream.

You wandered through a frost-covered forest, shadows dancing beneath the moonlight. Distant howls of wolves echoed, and Henry 's figure emerged from the mist.

As you approached, he turned, revealing the handsome face you often found herself dreaming of.

Henry 's deep brown eyes held a warmth.

"Y/n, my y/n" his words muffled in your dream but you still found your heart beating loudly.

"Yes, Henry." you gasped.

Henry 's arms enveloped you, pulling you closer in a tender embrace beneath the moonlight. He lifted your chin up to meet his lips in a soft, tender kiss that lingered minutes after he pulled apart and trailed kisses along your jaw, and down your neck, where he lingered, playfully nipping at your collarbone.

You gasped.

"I want to sink my teeth into you..." He whispered. You felt your cheeks burn, along with the rest of your body.

Suddenly, the dream shifted. The forest darkened, and the wolves' howls intensified. A giant figure, cloaked in shadows, appeared. Your heart raced as you recognized the glowing eyes from your earlier encounter.

"I want to sink my teeth into you." The figure whispered. Your pulse picked up as the dream twisted into a chaotic dance of uncertainty.

You woke up with a start.

The farmhouse was silent, bathed in the soft glow of the hearth. you lay in the quiet darkness, the dream fading.

Unable to shake off the disquieting feeling, you slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb your family, and donned your warmest attire. The creaking floorboards betrayed your departure, and as you stepped outside, the winter night embraced you once again.

The village slept peacefully, shrouded in a blanket of snow. Your breath formed visible clouds in the frigid air as you made your way to the apothecary. The flickering candlelight within revealed the familiar shelves of herbs and potions.

Rebecca, already awake, greeted you with a knowing smile. "The threads of fate weave a complex tapestry," Rebecca mused. "Your dreams may hold clues to the challenges ahead. Stay vigilant, you, and trust your instincts."

#red riding hood #werewolf #werewolf x reader #werewolf x human #max irons #fluff #smut #red riding hood fanfiction

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comfortscripts · 2 years ago

Text

Santa's Statistics Helper ¬ Michael Gavey

Plot - In the midst of the worst Christmas of your life, you meet an arrogant genius who takes pity on your inability to do statistics. Pairing - Michael Gavey x PsychologyStudent!Reader Notes/Warnings - As a psychology student who hates statistics, this was just based off how my boyfriend explains it to me. Michael is a bit of a sweetheart in this with streaks of arrogance. Not proofread so I apologise in advance if it is terrible Word Count - 1,943

Sunday the 10th of December

“As it helps identify the patterns, the correlation matrix is useful in psychological testing, economics, risk management, and statistics. Calculated as (x(i)-mean(x))*(y(i)-mean(y)) / ((x(i)-mean(x))2 * (y(i)-mean(y))2. This mode- Oh for fuck’s sakes!”

Slamming the monotone textbook of your nightmares closed and shoving it to the opposite side of the oaken table, you breathe a sigh of frustration. Four hours you’ve been trying, 240 minutes of your life spent in a lonely library struggling to grasp the difference between a correlation matrix and covariance matrix. If someone told you when you picked psychology that you’d be sacrificing your Christmas to study for some pathetic quantitative methodologies’ module, you would have switched your career pathway to dogwalker.

Unfortunately, you aren’t a bloody psychic so here you sit with red rimmed eyes, frizzing hair from repeatedly tugging at it, and longing for being home watching The Polar Express. A string of swears partnered with the shuffling of papers acted as your soundtrack for the next few minutes as you attempted to build back up your confidence.

“You made it this far; you can do this! Once this module is done, you can get a pint and burn your calculator.”

Just as you leant to grab the textbook, a voice broke through your bubble of academic frustration.

“Don’t think you’d get very far burning a calculator after a few pints, I’ve seen how you handle your alcohol.”

Jumping backwards in your chair, eyes frantically assessing the source of the teasing words. There he stood, Michael Gavey. You had only met him in once during Freshers, but after minimal contact with him, you understood that he looked down on your choice of degree. Mutterings of how it is a pointless degree for vapid girls who would become housewives or receptionists within years of graduation. Mousy hair that had no clear style, smudged glasses, and an oversized maroon jumper that made him appear wider than usual.

Perhaps it was your lack of sleep, but Michael Gavey seemed to be far better looking than before.

“What the fuck Gavey?! Could have given me a heart attack, and I know you are smart but you aren’t a bloody doctor.” Clutching your chest to emphasise the theatrics of your startled self, a small huff left your person with the final word.

With a soft chuckle, the lanky boy slid into the chair opposite before resting his judgmental eyes on your figure. Assessing your appearance as if you were one of his equations. Those denim blues flickering between you and the scattered papers filled with incorrect or half-complete statistical equations.

Moments passed in silence, and with each second you grew more agitated with the piercing gaze from the bespectacled boy. “What are you even doing here Gavey? Is Christmas too simple and mainstream for you to celebrate?”

“I would ask you the same question, but from what I recall you seem to embrace the simple. Or does that only apply to your choice in degree?”

That fleeting thought of attraction was zapped from the air as his words bit at your confidence. Usually, a quick-witted response would fall from your lips, but after days of struggling, it was difficult to view yourself as anything but a student heading towards failure.

It was clear to tell the atmosphere had shifted, a tense weight fell between the pair of you. Watching as his calculated smirk fell, understanding that perhaps his words might not have been appreciated in this moment.

“What do you want Michael? I’m too busy to be belittled today.”

“Well, I was planning on asking you to be quiet. I’ve had to listen to your ridiculous murmurings for the past 2 hours. Not to mention the constant echoing of you abusing those poor books.” Straightening himself in the padded wooden seat, attempting to appear unphased by how defeated your voice sounded.

Even though Michael would never admit to it, he always harboured a modest crush on you. He remembers the way you walked around the different Fresher events with such confidence, despite not knowing anyone prior to starting University. Eyes following your figure as you made the rounds before making your way to his table of one. That was when he messed up. Something about your presence made any semblance of a filter disappear, and the insults flew from his lips before he could bite the words down. All he could do was stare as that kind spark in your eyes faltered and you muttered a discouraged goodbye before walking away from his lonely table.

Since that day, he kept an eye out for you. Never once daring to speak again, but always glancing at your corner table during dinnertime just to catch a glimpse of that jubilant smile. Yes, he thought any subject outside of mathematics-based degrees were pointless to society. Although for some reason, he never wanted you to feel anything less for your choice of pathway. Everyone else on your course might be a half-wit, but not you. Never you.

Suddenly feeling sheepish, you make a move to pack away. “Oh, I apologise. Truthfully, I thought I was the only one who stayed back for Christmas break.”

Hand reaching across to grab the textbook currently resting before the boy, you were met halfway by a larger colder hand. “Don’t leave on my account, especially before I can explain to you the different applications of correlation matrixes.”

Rearranging the position of his chair to minimise the space between the both of you, as he fumbled through your plethora of mock questions and attempted answers. All whilst your mouth parted with puzzlement, leaving you to watch his movement with questioning eyes.

“Why in the world would you help me?”

“Figures it could balance out my karma for slagging your subject. Plus, I can’t sit here knowing you are desecrating maths and not intervene.”

And with the rippling sounds of the pages followed by the subtle knock of the textbook cover, the pair of you began an unlikely partnership.

Monday the 18th of December

The next seven days were spent in that secluded corner of the century-old building with Michael explaining statistical concepts in his velvety tones. At the start, he found it difficult to not mark his superiority or mock your questions that seemed elementary to him. Eventually, he grew to understand that you really did care about understanding the methods entirely, and that your questions spawned from craving knowledge rather than sheer stupidity. Awkward explanations turned into two-way conversations during study breaks, and silly jokes. If anyone were to enter the library, they would hear the duo of laughs ricochet off the walls of books. Perhaps they would think that two friends were sharing inside jokes, but if anyone saw the pair of you, they would see two fools infatuated with one another.

It was true, within the past week Michael’s crush only grew and you started to realise that Michael might be the unexpected highlight of university. Since Freshers, you felt drawn to him, and maybe at the start it was purely a physical attraction that was shut down by his mean-spirited comments. But this version of Michael, where he feels comfortable and lets down his arrogant guard, this is the boy that you wish you’d known from the beginning. Heart fluttering when he praises you, chest aching from giggles at his nerdy jokes, and fingertips lingering slightly too long on his veiny hand.

As the snow falls outside, the pair of you sat with only the sound of your nervous drumming and the scratch of Michael’s pen across your mock examination. Studying his side profile, getting lost in the way his lips purse with satisfaction when he ticks off a correct answer, if you didn’t know better, you’d say he was proud of you. Several moments trickled by in silence, waiting in anticipation to see whether the hours spent together had actually taught you anything. There was the unspoken discomfort of what happens next. If you had passed with flying colours, does that mean you and him go back to strangers? Could you pretend to be less than friends again with all these newfound feelings? Truthfully, part of you wished you failed so he would have to keep tutoring you.

“And you did it. Congratulations, you have officially conquered statistics.” Sliding across the paper marked 86% with a little smile into your expectant hands. Those stormy blues meeting yours to watch the excitement unfold.

“I did it? Oh my god, I did it!”

Waving the paper in the air before bringing it to your chest, eyes sparkling with happiness as the weight of failure floats off your shoulders. Michael could only match your exuberant smile, leaning his chiselled chin on the palm of his hand to watch the subject of his dreams glitter in front of him. He knew the doubts that clouded your judgement were bullshit. In his eyes you were almost as smart as him, only in a different way. Watching your seated celebrations as he commits the image to memory, with fear of today being the last day of closeness between you two. Michael half expected you to drop him after realising you understood the concepts. That you would finally recognise you are worth more than someone like him. Someone of a higher class, someone more muscular, someone who isn’t a social pariah.

Those thoughts were halted by the feel of your jumper-clad arms being thrown around his neck, drawing him close. Snapping out of his daydream just as you bridged the gap between your lush lips and his own. Michael felt you melt into him, arms softening in their hold but your lips still continuing the connection with passion. This kiss was all consuming, built up with each second of vulnerability shown throughout the moments together. He noted that you tasted like spearmint gum, and it perfectly complimented the constant chocolate that lurked on his tastebuds.

Somehow it felt like the pair of you were joined for eternity, feeling as if the cool of his lens would be ingrained on your skin. Reluctantly the two young students separated, faces flushed and chests heaving in a desperate attempt to fill your lungs. The realisation of your bold move flashed in your brain, panic arising in your stomach at all the possible scenarios that could happen next, but those fears settled as you saw the soft look hidden behind those glasses.

“Thank you, Michael. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

“Well, it does help that I’m a mathematical genius. But truthfully, I’ve enjoyed teaching you and would happily continue our study sessions.” Despite his clear words, Michael was still recovering from the shockwaves in his body from the taste of you on his lips. Mentally he was cringing at his entirely unromantic words, but all you did was smile.

“As much as I would like that, I’d prefer if our relationship went beyond studying? Perhaps we could go for a celebratory pint or get dinner together.” Awkwardly twiddling the hem of his sweater between your fingertips as you avoided his eyeline. “You know, like a date? Only if you would be happy with that, of course.”

“I’ve come to realise that if I was a correlation matrix, and you’d be the variable that’s highly correlated with my happiness. So yes, I’d love to take YOU on a date”

Laughter erupted in your belly at his cheesy line, and he fought the urge to pull in for another kiss. Instead, he chose to intertwine your warm hands with his. “A genius, a gentleman, a teacher, and now a comedian? You, Michael Gavey, are an adventure I can’t wait to explore.”

#michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey imagine #ewan mitchell x reader #saltburn #ewan mitchell #michael gavey x you

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siconetribal · 3 months ago

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Beyond the Bookshelves (11)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: "I see."

Summary: You’re a Resource Management Specialist at S.H.I.E.L.D. normally referred to as “The Librarian”. You’ve been assigned the nightmarish task of digitizing all the physical resources currently owned by the agency, with a few new computers and one extra helper.

A/N:

Sorry about the delay. I ended up getting more tasks for work right after traveling abroad. It was a scramble to get the last 2 months caught up.

Please comment/like/reblog. If you’d like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know! (If I missed any tags, please let me know, I’ll add you right away!) I’d also greatly appreciate it if rebloggers remember to add the tags (or some at least).

The lovely banners used in this fic are from @cafekitsune.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

Loki stood awkwardly in the sterile environment, too far from the door to leave yet close enough to not hover over the staff member dressed in a white coat. Y/N lay motionless on the atrocity that is considered a “bed”. A cuff was wrapped around her bicep which whirred to life with a few button presses. It inflated until it looked as if it would burst before slowly deflating with evenly placed clicks until numbers popped up on the screen. A plastic device was clamped over the tip of one finger and more numbers came onto the screen. The medic then slipped a metal probe encased in plastic into her mouth. Another portion of the screen lit up and a new set of numbers came up. He was not entirely sure what all these numbers meant, but it was clear by the frown that it was not good.

“What are these numbers and why are you wrapping her in such machinery? She fainted, how do all these gadgets treat that?” He finally asked two of the questions that only grew in number with each new thing. The staff member turned to face him, sizing him up.

“And you are what to her exactly?” The question was simple, but the scrutiny in the medic’s gaze gave pause. Was he being questioned on why he cared for her? Or was he being reminded rhetorically that he was an outsider and that he simply should leave?

If it’s the former, well is it not obvious? She is a thorn in my side. The vile villainess who dared to ban me, a prince, from the library! She is a haughty midgardian who lacks any proper etiquette towards royalty though she is surrounded by knowledge. He recalled their “first encounter” and the texts. His frown deepened. An oddity in this world that does not follow the norm. “She is someone I made to work with on a large assignment given to her by Fury. I need her to be normal for the work to be done and I can be freed of this extra burden.” He finally responded.

“I see,” was followed by silence. “This medical equipment does not treat her. It allows me to gather necessary information to best assess, diagnose, and treat her. Is there anything that happened during your assignment that I should know about?”

“That it has yet to start, because she simply vanished for a lengthy amount of time and only recently returned? Or perhaps her incessant chattering with the equally annoyingly talkative Rogers?” And I was forced to wait, none the wiser of her absence. “You've gathered your vitals, what is wrong with her?”

“I see, so she was traveling recently for work?”

“As per her claims.”

“I see,” the medic turned and began to tap away on a tablet. That two word phrase was beginning to poke at his nerves.

“And?”

“And do you know where she had gone in her travels?”

Do I look to be her keeper? I only brought her to you to be treated, not be her living diary! He bit back the words and dulled his sharp tone, taking a deep breath. “Do I look like her keeper?”

“I am simply gathering the necessary information to better assess her.”

“And how would knowing where she traveled be of any use to you?”

“Climate, environment, and what the current illnesses are currently on the rise.”

“No, I do not know where she went nor did I ask her or anyone. I was preoccupied with more important matters.” Loki took another deep breath. Will these insufferable questions end and the treatment begin?”

“I see,” his eyebrow twitched at the repeated statement. The medic moved from Y/N’s beside.

“Are you not going to cure her now? Where are you going?” The younger prince turned on his heel to see the medic start tapping away at a computer. “What are you doing now? What could possibly be more important in that hellish void than healing a fallen midgardian?” His jaw tightened at the series of clicks and clacks that came from the mechanical keyboard.

“I need to document my treatment in her chart.” The forever unperturbed voice of the medic was like nails on a chalkboard. Was there no sense of urgency? Was the health of someone who could outrank an Avenger mean so little? Or were the staff uncaring because he was involved? Was he hindering proper treatment because he was so hated and she was being associated with him? He glanced over his shoulder at Y/N. Her eyebrows were furrowed, creating creases in her forehead; and her breathing was labored and shallow.

“Is it necessary to do that right now?” The medic turned from the monitor and silently observed the irritated royal before refocusing in the computer screen.

“Yes, it needs to be done timely.” Once again, a sluggish and bland tone that gave no sense of security. “Do you plan on staying here with her?”

“Why would I stay here with her? Treat her so that she is back up on her feet and I am free of this unnecessary burden!” He demanded.

“I see,” his hand twitched at the statement that was repeated for the umpteenth time. It took a great amount of control to not summon one of his beloved throwing knives to threaten the medic into working properly.

“I highly doubt it.” He coolly retorted. “You’ve done absolutely nothing to treat her and are now requesting me to watch over her while you galavant off to do absolutely nothing. You've only assessed what I have told you multiple times, the Librarian fainted and needs to be revived. You have done nothing to remedy this.” He forced his jaw to unclench so that his words were clear for the pathetic midgardian in charge of care.

“There’s no medicine on Earth that can suddenly revive someone who has fainted as she has. As per what you said, she fell unconscious and did not hit her head, recently returned from a trip, and has been recently assigned something that requires the assistance of an Avenger. Coupled with her vitals, I can say she is safe from serious danger and will get better. It will take time, some medication, and proper hydration.” The medic walked past the irritated Asgardian, donning gloves after gathering some supplies. Loki observed the odd steps taken, skeptical and confused as part of her arm under her elbow was wiped and a needle with some tubing was inserted. The tubing was then attached to a bag that was hung above Y/N and drops of clear liquid began to steadily fill a chamber. Then the medic brought forth a syringe and poked something into the bag, pushing it into it. “She’ll need to rest here. I can’t say when she’ll wake up, but you can stop by and check in a couple of hours. The IV and medication will help her. If that’s all, I’ll be heading back to do my charting.” Seeing the prince stand there in silence was sign enough for the medic to walk out of the room and head to the back office.

That’s it?! That’s all that can be done? And they simply wash their hands of the matter and move on? What could that ridiculous excuse of a physician possibly have seen if that was all that could be done?! Loki had half the mind to teleport to the back and demand more be done, but stopped himself. Why am I so aggrieved by this? This is all her own fault! Why am I wasting my time here when she's the one who abruptly left me banned from the library for weeks? This it's simply the consequences of her actions. I have no work to be done at this moment, I need to eat and head back to the library to avoid all unnecessary interactions. He turned to the door and resolutely made his way back to the cafeteria to get some food.

Where am I? Y/N slowly slipped back into the world of the conscious. Her head felt like it was skimming on water and one arm felt a bit swollen. Forcing her eyes open, she blinked away the bleariness to see the IV drip and digital monitor. I'm in infirmary? How? She craned her neck to look around the room a bit before dropping it back against the pillow. Obviously someone brought me here, because I sure as hell know I did not bring myself. I went to lunch with Jess and she was telling me about a new recruit for the Avengers. Another super soldier, I think? Or was it something that has to do with Steve and not a newcomer? Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths to ease the oncoming headache. Don’t worry about that detail for now Y/N. Focus on not having your brain rip itself in two. She used her free arm to rub her face.

“I was talking to Jess, we ate lunch in the cafeteria, and we were walking out together. She was fussing over my health and then what happened? Did I black out?” She frowned. “That’s not good. Fury’ll be furious if my report isn't in by tomorrow, pun intended.” She mumbled aloud to herself. “What time is it?”

“It’s currently 19:30.” A voice off to the right answered her. Rolling her head to the side, she saw one of the nurses step through the glass door, the curtain half drawn across the glass wall for some privacy.

“Seven thirty? How long have I been here?” Y/N squeezed her eyes shut and opened them once more.

“You were checked in at 13:06 and have been under observation for fever, exhaustion, and dehydration. You’ve been asleep the majority of the time. We were told that you were travelling recently?”

“Yeah, I had to go to all the SHIELD libraries to make sure the new network was functional and the staff properly trained.” She muttered, rubbing her face. “I was working on the reports and took a break for lunch, but that's the last thing I remember before waking up here.”

“So no issues in remembering what happened prior to the incident. Do you recall hitting your head on something?”

“Hitting my head?” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, trying to recall what happened in more detail. “No, I don't recall. I was talking to my friend and I just blacked out. No, wait, I did fall. I got dizzy and blacked out for a moment. I stumbled into the wall and slid down. Jess was freaking out, I used the wall to stand up again, and then I passed out again.” She opened her eyes again and turned to the nurse. “I don’t remember bringing myself here.” She frowned.

“You didn't, someone brought you in while you were unconscious.”

“Oh, I guess Jess called for assistance.”

“No, one of the other personnel brought you in.” Y/N’s head jerked up off the pillow at this detail.

“Another? Another who? I can’t have been Jess. She’s strong, but she isn’t that strong. Did she get someone to help?”

“Bingo, your friend Jess found one of the strongest to assist. You were brought in by an Avenger.”

An Avenger? Maybe Steve was nearby. Oh, maybe that's why I thought we talked about super soldiers. “Well, aren't I a lucky gal? Not everyday you get carried off by an Avenger without some life altering calamity happening.”

“Ain’t that the truth!” The nurse laughed, scanning Y/N’s wristband before taking her vitals. “Well, you’re looking good so far. Seems like it was purely exhaustion hitting you hard. You need to rest, don’t go running back to work after so much travel and in so many different time zones. Your body needs to recover.”

“Yeah, I made a promise to someone so I came in Toby away.”

“Y/N, I’m sure they'd have understood. Even if they didn't, your health is a priority to you. No one else is going to care for it for you. So, rest and proper nutrition for the next two days. No rushing to work, I'll post your order so everyone who needs to know doesn't give you a hard time.”

“Thanks, that'll help.” Y/N sat up at the edge of the bed, letting the nurse unhook her from the machines and clear her for leave. “I’ll be sure to stay home for two days as the doctor ordered.”

“Good, now off you go. Do you need someone to help you home?”

“Oh, no need to go that far, I'm fine.” Y/N assured. “Thanks again,” she stood up once cleared and left the infirmary. I’ll need to thank Steve tomor-no, when I get back. I'll thank him when I get back. Being carried by an Avenger is gossip enough, but by the Captain America only makes it worse! She pinched the bridge of her nose. A few days away from work would be the best course of action. P,us I can focus on my reports and submit them without an all-nighter.

Tags: @vbecker10 @huntress-artemiss @softestqueeen @thegodofnotknowing @princess-ofthe-pages @firedrakegirl @rcailleachcola @cabingrlandrandomcrap @lotrefcp @lwtannie @jainaeatsstars @msdjsg7 @tom-hlover @kneelingformyloki @gruftiela @gigglingtiggerv2 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @evalynanne @wolfsmom1

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gallifreyinstituteforlearning · 5 months ago

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⚕️Post-Regeneration Management

Regenerating can be extremely confusing for the helper. Here’s a guide for monitoring and management following this rather traumatic experience. When in doubt, just WHAM it out!

BIGGER - Google Drive: PDF / Image JPG / Image PNG

This guide is for use on Gallifreyans and Time Lords only. Always seek your human advice from human health providers.

❓Why is Post-Regeneration Care Important?

Regeneration puts immense strain on the body. Supporting a Gallifreyan through this adjustment period ensures a smoother recovery and reduces the risk of complications like hyperartronosis, prolonged PRT, or a couple of limbs in the wrong places.

So when in doubt, just WHAM it out.

✨ What is Post-Regenerative Trauma (PRT)?

Post-Regenerative Trauma (PRT) is one of the most common complications faced by Gallifreyans immediately after regeneration. While a lot of regenerations are smooth and require no intervention, PRT can introduce a messy mix of physical, mental, and emotional symptoms that need careful monitoring and management.

📝 How to Perform Post-Regeneration Management

🩺 Step 1: Work the Environment

Creating a calming and supportive environment is the foundation of post-regeneration care:

Position: Ensure the patient lies flat on a comfortable surface with their head slightly elevated. This promotes circulation and minimises strain.

Environment: Reduce sensory input by minimising noise and dimming lights.

Room Temperature: Maintain at 17°C, a temperature close to Gallifreyan norms, to reduce the need for homeostatic mechanisms.

Nutrition: Offer light, easily digestible food and hydrating fluids. Avoid overly rich or sugary foods.

🌟 Step 2: Highlight Concerns

Before diving into care, establish the patient's condition using the GASS tool. The GASS tool not only helps assess the patient's immediate condition but also highlights conditions like sepsis or healing coma onset.

Act according to the protocols outlined by GASS before assessing for PRT.

📊 Step 3: Analyse Symptoms

Symptoms include:

Mild: Energy bursts, energy deficit, food cravings, weakness, lethargy, mild pain.

Moderate: Fainting, spasms, confusion, amnesia, impulsiveness, moderate pain.

Severe: Delirium, energy expulsion, seizure, coma (not healing), severe pain.

Count the symptoms and categorise them using the following traffic light system:

GREEN (1–2 mild symptoms)

ORANGE (3–4 mild or 1–2 moderate symptoms)

RED (3+ moderate or 1 severe symptom)

Breaking down symptoms by severity ensures caregivers can act quickly and appropriately to prevent escalation.

⚠️ Step 4: Move to Action

Once the level of concern is determined, take action:

GREEN

There is no escalation required. Reassess every 2-4 hours. If there are any changes, reinstigate GASS monitoring and recognition of PRT symptoms.

ORANGE

Increase GASS monitoring to every 15–30 minutes, or as deemed clinically appropriate.

Start eyes-on observations for the patient's safety and to monitor and track changes.

Supervise the patient during activities, but actively encourage rest.

Administer mild to moderate pain relief if needed.

RED

Continue frequent monitoring, eyes-on observations and strict supervision at all times.

Encourage a healing coma if the patient is lucid and able to selectively do so.

Consider securing the patient to prevent injury or choking during spasms or seizures.

Consider supplemental oxygen at 10L/min, titrated carefully according to need.

If available, move to a Zero Room or their symbiotically linked TARDIS for advanced stabilisation.

Escalate care to a Gallifreyan medic if symptoms persist for 12+ hours or worsen.

🌌 Advanced: Additional Notes on Moulding

The first 8 weeks post-regeneration involve a process called moulding, during which the new body adjusts and stabilises. You may see changes in hair length, skin details, or even eye colour. This is normal.

📌 Key Points to Remember

Customised Care: Every regeneration is unique. Tailor your approach to the Gallifreyan's needs.

Monitor Closely: Use GASS and the traffic light system to guide your decisions.

Minimise Stimuli: A calm environment is critical for recovery.

Escalate When Needed: Severe symptoms require immediate attention and possibly external support.

Medical Guides

These are all practical guides to assessing and treating a Gallifreyan in an emergency.

⚕️💕Gallifreyan CPR

⚕️👽Gallifreyan Assessment Scoring System (GASS)

⚕️👽ABCDE Assessment

⚕️⚠️Sepsis Emergency Response (SER)

⚕️⚠️Severe Trauma Protocol

⚕️🌡️Gallifreyan Thermoregulation and Emergency Response

⚕️🔮Psionic Emergency Pathways

⚕️✨Post-Regeneration Management

⚕️💤Gallifreyan Healing Coma Management

⚕️🩸Interpreting Gallifreyan Bloodwork

⚕️👶Gallifreyan Paediatric Emergencies

⚕️🧠Managing Gallifreyan Neurological Trauma

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features:⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

#doctor who #dr who #dw eu #gallifreyans #gallifrey institute for learning #Time Lord biology #GAP Quick Guides #whoniverse #GIL: Biology #gallifreyan biology #GIL: Species/Gallifreyans #GIL #GIL: Biology/Medical

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genuflectx · 5 months ago

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Someone ought to tell all the rad Murder Drone artists whose art is used on the Church of Null thumbnails/slideshows that their art is, without permission, being associated with AI generated songs (and that the person is just lying about it being AI)

All the art is yoinked from Twitter which I don’t have anymore 😭 but the credits are on the video descriptions 🙏

Edit: Adding the evidence below the cut; the songs and Electrical Ink fail 3 different tests, which point towards high likelihood of AI usage

#1 - Using SubmitHub's AI song checker, first testing accuracy of checker. Claims 90% accuracy, did own test with 10 human and 10 AI. About the same accuracy on both at 60%, with remaining percentage usually "inconclusive" with a smaller percentage of inaccuracy (10% in the human test, 20% in AI test but only for Udio). Caveat: Udio throws it off, every Udio song tested was inconclusive or incorrect, however I noted a mix of human and AI tells still reported in the Udio breakdowns. Therefore, this checker is reasonably accurate at marking AI as AI and is more likely to say something is inconclusive than to mark it incorrectly, but should not be the only tool used to assess.

Sampling every other Church of Null song (testing with full MP3s), SubmitHub's checker identified 10 of 12 songs as strongly AI and the remaining 2 as inconclusive. This is a higher rate of being marked as AI than either the human or AI tests I did beforehand. If it were human there would be some marked human, if it were Udio AI it would more likely show a mix of human and inconclusive. All AI and two inconclusive is more likely Suno AI.

#2 - Using my manual spectrogram contrast test, first testing on 23 respondents. Results are in the link, with 65% of respondents getting a score of over half correctly assessed. This test becomes more accurate when used by an individual practiced in it (comparing an unlabeled spectrogram to a chart of AI and human spectrograms, then sorting it onto either side accordingly by which pattern it most closely resembles). My own score was 12/14. This test will never be 100% accurate as not every spectrogram follows the pattern; i.e. rarely, an AI song has the spectrogram appearance as a human made one.

Respondents were mixed on whether a sampling of 6 songs from Church of Null were AI or human at the end of the test, with both high scoring and low scoring assessing them about the same, with only a slightly higher rate of being assessed as AI in high scoring testers. Only one lower scoring tester assessed AI under 50%, assessing two of six as AI (33%). However, nobody assessed the set as being all human. Note, psychology may have made this set difficult, as respondents may have believed it was unlikely that a set would be all AI or all human, which would influence answers.

When I originally assessed the six spectrograms, I assessed all of them as appearing closer to AI generated spectrograms than human, using the reference charts. I am very practiced at spectrogram contrast assessment since I am the one who made these charts and tests, sampling 30+ AI and 30+ human.

#3 - Using a smell test, or suspicious tells that just make you feel like something is off with the vibes. This can be lack of credits/suspicious credits, an AI "shimmer" effect on all the audio, generic lyrics that sound AI generated/edited, a music production output that is unrealistic for hand-made music, etc.

In Church of Null's case, it's creator Electrical Ink: shows no musical production on the channel before CoN, claims to have 6 anon helpers/vocalists but only credits a weird blank "creative consulting" channel, has produced 25 beautiful songs with complex compositions and vocals in 4 months while claiming to record these in person (and simultaneously writing 62k+ words of the fanfic, or about 15k a month), includes the robotic "shimmer" present in Suno AI while claiming it's "autotune," deletes comments asking if it's Suno (happened to me), and uses art before asking permission for the thumbnails and lyric videos.

The one other credit I found under a reply to a random comment is E-LIVE-YT (a "collaborator" on one song, however E-LIVE may have exaggerated this as they couldn’t even remember Electrical Ink’s name during a livestream), a real person who uploaded at least 1 AI generated song (admitted) but claims the rest are human made. Though, they also produce music at an unrealistic rate (43 tracks in 5 months) but mostly "extensions" of existing music, something AI song generators let you do (he uses Bandlab, which has AI tools exactly for that). The ones with lyrics have Suno's "shimmer" and the lyrical breakdown that E-LIVE posts on comments read as AI summaries/analysis (right down to calling N "they," not knowing his pronoun; a shortcut to chatGPT was on their desktop during a livestream, they removed this for later streams). Additionally, E-LIVE also has strange credits to blank channels and 1 or 2 tiny channels that just upload poor quality Roblox clips.

Ironically, even this "fan" "collaborator" believes Church of Null is AI and complains about competing with it, and regular Suno AI users in the Suno Discord believe so too.

Sniff sniff.... somethin smells funny...

#murder drones #uzi doorman #cyn #church of null #serial designation n #serial designation v #nuzi #someone tell them plllllz I know I personally wouldn’t want my art stolen for a bunch of Suno AI generated music

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gatheredfates · 1 year ago

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SEA'S COMMUNITY COMPENDIUM UPDATE

We have a massive one today! Huge thanks to a close friend of mine who sent me every single bookmark of xiv resources she had. 💖

Additionally, a good handful of these resources were sourced from a list originally created by @rinhkitty, which you can find here. I have tried to include the more recent/active of the lot, so it's not a one-for-one. Thank them for a lot of the large scale resources you'll find below! ✨

As of 04/12, I have added the following resources (in no particular order) to Sea's Community Compendium for FFXIV Creatives:

LARGE SCALE

GARLAND TOOLS — Contains XIV resources such as Garland Data, everything database, crafting lists and equipment calculators; Garland Bell, gathering timers, collectable resources and hunt windows; and FFXIV Fisher, daily fishing windows, bait paths and catch checklist. Maintained by Clorifex Ezalor of Zalera.

TEAMCRAFT — Create crafting lists and collaborate with others, set gathering alarms, simulate crafting rotations, and more!

CAT BECAME HUNGRY - FFXIV ANGLER — Contains everything and anything to know about fishing including specific fish guides, location, baits, aquarium fish and more!

FFXIV - CRAFTING AS A SERVICE — Crafting information and planning for FFXIV!

FFXIV GARDENING — The FFXIV Gardening Database is a collection of everything related to gardening in Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn. It was created to organize and visualize the results obtained from crossbreeding.

SIGHTSEEING LOG HELPER — This tool will help those trying to complete their pesky Sightseeing Log by letting them know upcoming weather patterns for each zone!

EUREKA TRACKER — For everything and anything to do with Eureka mobs, tracking and weather patterns.

FFLOGOS — for tracking of items/actions related to Eureka.

FFXIVSQUADRON — A comprehensive tool that helps you assess the success rate of various squadron missions.

FFXIV CHOCOBO COLOUR CALCULATOR — Will calculate what chocobo feed you will need to get from your current colour to your desired colour. *rng not included.

FFXIV HOUSING — A site specialising in the documentation of all housing items available in game.

HOUSING SNAP — A compilation of player-made housing designs. Can be used for inspiration or places to visit!

MISC

NPC CHAT BUBBLES — Would you like more NPC chat bubbles for edits? Say no more! Created by @alexoisxiv.

OLD TUMBLR LAYOUT BY PIXIEL — While not XIV specific I know a lot of people aren't fans of the new Tumblr layout, so this is a fix that will revert it to an as close as possible approximation of the new one. I won't tag the creator as I don't think they're in the xiv community, but it's run by @/pixiel!

HOW TO CURSE LIKE AN ISHGARDIAN — Do you want to make the church blush? Do you want to incur the wrath of Halone? @stars-and-clouds has compiled a list of appropriate curses/swear words for you!

FINAL FANTASY XIV SIDEQUEST GUIDE - HEAVENSWARD EDITION — maintained by @chatty-moogle, this guide explores interesting sidequests in Heavensward that will give you more information about the lore, titbits about locals and other interesting information!

TRUST BANNERS FOR XIV — If you have ever wondered how people mimic the Trust banners used in XIV, look no further! @locke-rinannis has a template for you.

MAKING USE OF RECOMMENDATIONS — created by @autumnslance, this guide will help you make your recommendations tab useful rather than annoying.

BOTANICA EORZEA — A guide to the flora of Eitherys and her reflections, including fungi and seedkin. For reference in writing and roleplaying. Maintained by @tinolqa.

GPOSE TIPS — A tutorial on how to achieve clarity and detail in your XIV screenshots! Created by @aryalaenkha.

UI MACRO MENUS — A guide on how to use macros to create small UI menus for XIV. Written by @diskwrite-ffxiv.

TYPHON GATE RESEARCH — Created by @mcstronghuge, these are the statistically best places for your character to stand for the Typhon Gate!

CHANGELOG

HYDAELYN HEALTH HAVEN has been removed at the request of the owner.

Moved THE BALANCE higher on the list to reflect alphabetical sorting, excluding names that start with The.

Misc formatting as needed.

Added some additional clarification around large-scale discords/spaces; in particular: Large-scale community discords such as the XIV Reddit Discord, Hunts, GPOSE promotions and broad-space roleplay servers that harbour a large number of people and are publicly available to all. These may not have an RP focus but will assist in other aspects of the game. Also includes well-known tools/resources that are utilised by large groups of people and assist in gameplay elements.

Added a quick-jump menu to the bottom of each of the table of contents menus to assist in navigation.

Want to submit? You can either fill out the google form here, send me an ask with the relevant information contained on the Compendium, or join my Discord at SEAFLOOR (21+ only)!

I am sure there's probably a couple of things I have missed or links/formatting that might be broken. Please don't hesitate to let me know if anything is out of place. I'm going to take a break now. I'm pretty sure that's the biggest edit that's ever going to occur on this document!

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #crystal rp #crystal roleplay #｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea's community compendium #｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea speaks

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myscenic · 1 year ago

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Pairing: bf!jeno x 8thmember!male!reader, (slight) mark x haechan

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.1k+

Synopsis: the dreamies were hungry after a fun day of 7llin’ with dream and decide to make dinner together at the house. jaemin volunteers to cook while the others prepare ingredients and run errands.

at the market, jeno gets a cute call from his boyfriend y/n. laughter and playful teasing ensues between chenle and the lovebirds. back at the house, jeno, chenle and mark suddenly realize they forgot an ingredient.

౨ৎ Note: my first ever request is finished!! I had to rewatch the show to get some inspirations, cuz I literally almost forgot what happened in it lmao. since it's my first request, i was feeling really nervous while writing this, but i still hope u enjoy it<3

it was nighttime, the dreamies were feeling hungry after doing lots of activities in the afternoon, so they decided to have a homemade dinner together at the house. jaemin volunteered to be in charge of cooking while the others helped prepare ingredients.

jaemin assessed his ingredients with a critical eye, realizing several key items were missing. he turned to the group helpers in the kitchen.

"it seems we're short on some staples to start the main dishes," jaemin announced.

jeno looked up from washing vegetables. "i can run to the supermarket to grab what we need."

chenle perked up at the thought of an outing. "ooh, let me come too!"

mark sighed fondly. "i'll come too so you two don't cause too much chaos."

"we'll make it quick," mark assured.

the trio and headed out with an air of excitement and playfulness. while jeno and y/n looked forward to some couple time, they doubted their ability to remain focused on the task. only time would tell if they returned successfully with groceries, or in a lovesick daze once more.

jeno was browsing the meat aisle with mark and chenle when his phone started ringing. he smiled when he saw it was y/n calling.

"you gonna answer that?" chenle asked with a teasing lilt.

jeno playfully rolled his eyes at chenle before answering. "hey babe, what's up?"

"hi jen! i was just wondering, can you pick up some strawberries covered in chocolate while you're at the supermarket?" y/n's sweet voice came through the phone.

jeno couldn't help but grin like an idiot. "of course, do you want anything else~"

y/n giggled, making jeno's heart melt. "you're the best! only the strawberries is good. i can't wait to see you when you get back."

as jeno and y/n continued chatting fondly, chenle started making loud fake throwing up noises behind them. jeno tried to ignore him, but y/n must have heard through the phone.

"is chenle being disgusted again?" y/n asked, giggling more.

jeno gave chenle a side eye. "when isn't he?"

chenle stuck his tongue out in response, but kept making theatrically exaggerated gagging sounds. jeno flipped him off jokingly, unable to stop smiling as he spoke to his boyfriend.

mark chuckled at their antics, shaking his head affectionately. "don't mind him, just focus on your man."

jeno felt his cheeks warm at mark's words, but he was grateful for his hyung's support. "i'll see you soon, babe. love you!"

once jeno hung up, chenle started wheezing with laughter at his own jokes. even jeno had to laugh, chenle's silliness was honestly amusing, not truly mean-spirited.

"alright guys, let's finish up so we can get back to the others," mark said, looping his arms around chenle and jeno's necks affectionately as they continued shopping.

once the three members arrived back to the house from the supermarket, carrying bags of groceries. jaemin hurried over to check what they had bought. he started unpacking the bags and going through the list.

"hmm it seems we are missing one item," jaemin said angrily with a frown. "the green onions."

jeno and chenle quickly turned to blame mark. "it was mark hyung's job to get the green onions but he must have forgotten!" chenle said.

"yeah hyung you had one job!" jeno laughed teasingly.

mark looked shocked. "what? no i didn't, you guys said you would get the veggies!"

as the three started bickering playfully, jaemin observed them with a bemused smile. finally he clasped his hands together loudly. "alright enough you three. it doesn't really matter who forgot, it’s fine anyway. let's just get the food prepped."

with a sigh, mark went to the fridge to start taking out other ingredients they needed. but when he opened it, a bundle of green onions rolled out onto the floor.

the boys froze, then bursts of laughter erupted as they realized there was a spare bunch all along. "there we go," jaemin chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. it was just like them to band together and try tricking each other.

before long, the others had finished prepping ingredients and jaemin got to work cooking everything on the stovetop. a delicious aroma began permeating the air as pots simmered. y/n set the table while jeno poured drinks for everyone.

soon dinner was ready and they all crowded around, filling their plates high. compliments rained down on jaemin for his cooking skills as they dug in happily. y/n grinned at jeno across the table, sneaking bites of strawberries between mouthfuls of rice and meat.

they chatted casually about everything from upcoming schedules to funny memories, the atmosphere light and cozy. more than once, y/n caught jeno's foot rubbing affectionately against his ankle under the table when their gazes met. each gentle touch sent sparks through his body and never failed to bring a smile to his lips.

as they finished eating, jeno and y/n volunteered to do dishes while the others lounged around relaxing. they worked efficiently side by side at the sink, hips occasionally bumping as they maneuvered in the small space.

after a few minutes, mark loudly cleared his throat. "do you two seriously need to be joined at the hip right now too?" he nodded pointedly at their intertwined fingers resting on the countertop.

y/n glanced down, not even remembering when their hands had found each other. he blushed, starting to unlink them, but jeno held on firmly.

"says the one who begged to sleep with haechan last night." chenle chuckled, not looking up from his phone.

mark opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by renjun. "you guys, play nice. as long as our lovebirds keep things pg, i don't mind some affection around here." his eyes danced playfully.

"yeah, keep it pg, don't forget that our maknae is still here." jaemin joked as he looked to jisung. he just smiled sheepishly.

y/n grinned, relieved for renjun's understanding as always. jeno rubbed his thumb softly over y/n's knuckles, shooting him a loving smile that made his heart skip. their kitchen duties were finished in contented silence, hands locked together the whole way through.

once the last dish was dried and put away, jeno led y/n by the hand to the couch, cuddling him into his side. mark shook his head disapprovingly but y/n could see the smile he was trying to hide.

he sighed happily into jeno's warm embrace, feeling his boyfriend press a kiss to the top of his head. no matter how much teasing they received, nothing could dampen the elation and security y/n felt in jeno's arms — his most cherished place in the world. he was grateful beyond words for each and every day they had together like this.

#kpop fanfic #kpop x male reader #kpop male reader #nct x male reader #nct dream x male reader #lee jeno x male reader #jeno x male reader

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disastergay · 29 days ago

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MTAS pokémon teams

OK SO! I was inspired by a post by @complaintsdonttakeitseriously. THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILERS, I will try to put most of them under a cut but do not read down there if you don't want to be spoiled. also, this is going to be a long post, so buckle up.

if you scroll down to the bottom of this post there will be cute pictures using this template specifically for the bachelors and bachelorettes later, but for now, here's the general rundown:

you, the builder/protagonist, start off choosing between growlithe, horsea and budew for a starter that you bring with you from Highwind (maybe via Professor Luo? that could be fun). eventually, you'll build your team up to six pokemon that you catch in Sandrock's desert biome and the surrounding areas

most people in Sandrock do NOT, in fact, have six pokémon. I'm giving all of them at least one partner pokémon and most of them will have three chosen specifically to help them out with their work, but very few will have six

even though all of Sandrock's residents have at least one pokémon, many of them are not suited to battling or any sort of competition. they're more like lifelong companions and, like I said before, helpers

these are my headcanons for the pokémon that non-romanceable adult characters in sandrock have:

Vivi: Audino. It's her partner pokémon and the only one in her party. Both its color scheme that matches her dress and its ability to use its feelers like stethoscopes to listen to other pokémon's heartbeats in order to assess their physical and emotional wellbeing were big deciding factors here. You'll rarely see this pokémon roaming around town, instead, it typically chooses to stick close to the shop, where it often helps out at the cash register. Its split fairy/normal typing may make it less susceptible to scares from ghost types as well.

Hugo, the town blacksmith, would also probably want to keep it simple and just have one partner pokémon. My money's on a fire/rock type like Carkoal to keep the furnace hot and ready to forge.

Rocky: Timburr, Machoke and Primeape. This guy needs hot-tempered hard hitters that can help him out for hours during work at Eufala Salvage's scrapyard. Okay, well, he doesn't need them to be hot-tempered, but you can't tell me he wouldn't naturally gravitate towards those.

Krystal, on the other hand, would only have a Teddiursa. I think she'd want something cuddly that Pebbles can play and snuggle with, but also capable of evolving into a real mama bear of a pokemon that can protect her family.)

Dan-bi and Rian are inseparable so they'd always be a double battle encounter. I feel like they'd have two pokémon each: Rian gets Stunfisk, don't ask me why it's just pure vibes, and Tandemaus (which of course evolves into Maushold after the birth of Linden), while Dan-bi would have Mienfoo to match her fighting spirit and Flittle solely because I really want to see what she does when it evolves into a psychic ostrich.

Jensen: Shieldon. It's adorable AND has a steel typing that would come in handy defensively when he has to protect the train and its passengers from a certain outlaw who's on the loose.

Mabel: Milcery. It would eventually evolve into a caramel swirl Alcremie who's more than happy to help out with the dessert stand and sprucing up Mabel's latest recipes. If she ever stumbles upon an injured Fidough, though, rest assured she'll take it in.

Cooper would have a trio of Drowzee (don't even question me, that man probably put little Elsie to sleep with his ramblings alone), Chatot, and a surprisingly powerful Tauros. Because, you know, that's as close as we can get to a yakmel.

Yan: Sandile. Something about its beady little eyes unnerves me, like it's daring me to underestimate it, and the same can be said for Yan. (Conversely, Wei would probably have a male Combee, because he's a busy little bee. I haven't decided if it's male or female but either way, I think it fits him pretty well.)

Mort definitely has at least three pokémon. He probably had more in the past, but well. Y'know. My personal picks for him are Dhelmise and Brambleghast as his hard hitters, along with a Phantump and Greavard that he's raising. (If you don't know Phantump's lore but you do know Mort and Martle's lore, look it up, that info makes this selection all the more poignant.) I think he'd be sort of like a ghost type pokémon magnet everywhere he went due to his quiet, wise nature and it'd be adorable.

Zeke: he definitely strikes me as the kind of guy who'd go out of his way to procure grass types to help out with his farm work and research, so I'm gonna go with Turtwig, Cacturne and Breloom. I think Turtwig would be his first real partner pokémon whereas he found and caught a Cacnea himself when he was younger and his parents gave him a Shroomish for his 10th birthday.

Trudy would have a Drifloon whose job is to round up any lost children wandering around town (you know, rather than kidnapping them), a Rufflet that always tries to boss her around, and a scary strong Altaria with both Dragon Dance AND Dragon Breath. Something about this lady just screams "flying type" and I'm fully leaning into that. Maybe it's the fluffy hair?

Matilda: this woman absolutely has a Persian for a partner, big (and physically big feline, iykyk) cat lady vibes for sure. In addition to that, a Spoink with at least one really powerful psychic move, a Chingling, and a Dragonite. She's a born leader and speaker and I think her confidence would shine through in her team picks as well.

Howlett: even though we never get to meet him, I think he'd have a pretty well stocked team of five. Based on what we learn about him in-game, my picks for his team are Sandslash (his partner pokémon that started out as a Sandshrew), Graveler, Drapion (oh sweet irony), Cranidos (a pokémon he was raising right before he died), and Hippowdon.

now for the kids in town. I figure most of them will be allowed just one for right now, since age 10 is when kids in the pokémon world have the option to get a starter.

Linden: considering she's literally a baby it's hard to say what might be a good fit based on her personality, but I can see her parents wanting to start her off with a nice, calm normal type like Minccino.

Pebbles: when he's finally old enough to run around town unsupervised, Rockruff. Literally just give this kid a puppy dog and he will be so, so happy.

Jasmine: Mareep for sure. That combination of fluffy and adorable + strong against flying is a must for her, like have you met this girl? When it comes to pokémon battles, she has no mercy, not even against her own mother lmao. But deep down the real reason she'd pick such a cutthroat, unusual type is to help cover the weaknesses of her mom's team, as well as make it easier to grind EXP against ground types, which are strong against electric types.

Andy: Larvitar. While it might be cute and small now, its resistance to sandstorms and strong evolutionary line will make it a formidable opponent in the future. I feel like it'd be really important to Andy that his partner couldn't be knocked out by sandstorms, given his past.

Alo: a Barboach he got from his mom and a Swinub he got from his grandmother. I really do think Catori would be a bit helicopter-y about this initially, like the whole reason she gives him a ground-water type is because grass types in Sandrock are scarce and it'd give him a big advantage against the plentiful rock, ground AND fire types around. He'd still struggle to train with Zeke, though. Those 4x weaknesses are a real pain in the ass.

finally, it's time for the bachelors and bachelorettes. I'm putting them under the cut because some of the descriptions get spoiler-heavy, so click 'keep reading' if you want to see.

bachelorettes

Mi-an definitely starts out with just three pokémon, but I'm sure she'll catch more along the way. I think she'd have a Varoom because she's always speeding around Sandrock (you'll understand me if you've played ScarVio), a Cufant to help her out with collecting important materials, and a partner Masquerain that she received from her grandfather and raised from a Surskit.

Heidi strikes me as the kind of gal who always chooses function over form, meaning she won't necessarily go for the cutest pokémon over the most useful. I can see her partnering with an Aipom who's very handy (geddit, because its tail is a hand) around the store while also working with a Dugtrio for landscaping and a Ditto to just be whatever she needs it to be to help out with construction tasks. She might add more pokémon to her team in the future, but right now I think she'd have her hands full trying to wrangle these three.

Elsie was one of the most fun bachelorettes to decide on a team for. She's got such a colorful personality and she already loves the monsters of her own world, you just know she'd love pokémon! Of course I had to give her a partner Ducklett to head off her team of five also made up of Tinkatuff, Doduo, Gible, and Pyroar.

Amirah's team was surprisingly very straightforward to design. Her partner pokemon would be a Smeargle just because I think that would be cute, and she'd have two other pokemon: Yamask and Mimikyu. I just think she'd feel bad for these ghost types being shunned out of fear, especially after learning Mimikyu's sob story. It'd give her something nice to bond over with Mort, too.

Grace's partner pokémon is an Inteleon that she rarely brings out unless absolutely necessary, as in she's down to her last pokémon. 'Nuff said. I have very little to back this up but in my heart, the rest of her party consists of Zangoose, Stantler, Toxicroak and Gallade. She might honestly have a completely different team depending on whether she's undercover or not, I think that'd be completely fair. If not, though, she'd always lead with Stantler because she enjoys watching the despair in her opponents' eyes as they realize each pokémon she sends out is stronger than the last.

Venti's got more than enough going on in her life without adding pokémon to the mix, so she'll stick to just two for now, thank you very much! I think she'd have a Scraggy and a Furret, neither of them are really her partner but she has to baby Scraggy a bit more since it's the younger of the two. They quickly become adept scavengers, although she sometimes finds hidden piles of scavenged goods underneath her bed.

Catori was trickier. Personally I think she'd stick to just one partner pokémon, Pachirisu, but decided to bring along a Liligant to give her an edge on the off chance that ground or rock types back her into a corner. Why Pachirisu? Well, how else d'you think she managed to pay for all the electricity it takes to run an arcade when she's almost broke?

Nia is 100% about having the cutest pokémon so I can absolutely see her repping a Happiny, a Snubbull, a Flabébé and a partner Azumarill to help irrigate those plants on Moisture Farm!

Jane strikes me as the kind of person who would like to keep things as simple and focused as possible, so I can really only see her having two pokémon - a fluffy little Eevee to play with her students and a sharp-eyed Starly to help her stay on the lookout for trouble both inside and outside the classroom. Rest assured, both of these two cuties are also little thespians.

bachelors

Justice deserves to ride into battle in style, so he gets a Mudsdale for his partner pokémon, as well as a Bisharp and Decidueye to fight alongside him. His team is too overpowered for a small town sheriff, you say? Well considering all the shit he constantly puts up with, I think it's only fair. Also you're dead wrong if you think this man isn't the type to overprepare.

If there's one thing we all know about Unsuur, it's that he loves rocks. Rocks of every shape, size and color. I think he would exclusively use rock types and be perfectly happy with that. He's got a Rhyhorn partner, an Onix, and also a Carbink because Justice insisted he have at least three pokémon to join up. He might be convinced to add more to his party, as long as they're all rock types.

Qi would be a big fan of electric and steel (especially electric/steel) types and you just know immediately after realizing electric types only have one weakness, he'd go out of his way to raise electric type pokémon that are immune to ground type moves thanks to levitate. I gave him a team of four: Tadbulb, Rotom, Klink and Magneton, the last of which is his partner.

Pablo's pokémon are just as glamorous as he is. He doesn't have any interest in expanding it beyond the two he has - Glameow and Hatterene. They're wonderful, really, but they're enough of a headache as is. Very good at stirring up drama, too, that's for sure, which is a welcome boon for everywhere except inside of his boutique.

Miguel is one of the rare few bachelors who would only ever consider having one pokémon, and it'd be his partner, maybe he feels like having more sort of cheapens the bond or invites unnecessary aggression from others. Personally I think Dewgong would complement his personality really well. Plus, can you imagine that man having to raise a silly little Seel?

Burgess goes all-in on conserving water in every aspect of his life, so he'd be sure to go out and partner up with a Psyduck. I can also see him getting confident enough to befriend a Maractus and a spring variant Deerling later on when he takes on the role of a pastor. He trains his pokémon with environmental conservation, not battle, in mind, and their moves reflect that.

Arvio seems like the kind of guy who would have both an eastern and western variant of Shellos. I can't say why. Maybe to represent himself and his sister? His partner, though, would be Tsareena. He raised it from a Bounsweet and now he and Amirah never have to go hungry when they're peddling their wares on the road. He also has a grumpy Lombre that finally smiles and dances when it evolves into a Ludicolo, so there's that!

Ernest gives me electric type vibes, I don't know why. I can see him partnering with a low-key form Toxtricity (his sister has an amped form), as well as picking up a Joltik and maybe Blitzle along the way. None of them have levitate so he's gonna have a tough time adjusting to battles in Sandrock, poor guy.

Fang is a little complicated. I guess we could have X be a Toucannon in this universe? I really don't think he'd want more than X, but maybe he stumbles upon a lost, injured Larvesta during a particularly bad sandstorm and takes it in. He likes its grumpy little face.

Owen is absolutely partnered with a Dachsbun, there's no way around it. Food is his entire life. He also has a baile-style Oricorio, a Ninetales (seriously how the hell did he get one of those?!) and a Salazzle that Grace is totally not jealous of.

Pen has an interesting relationship with his pokémon. On one hand, he's got a full team of six highly-trained pokémon starting with Malamar, Accelgor, Hydreigon, Mightyena and Haxorus, but on the other, his partner is Milotic. Like Grace, he rarely lets his partner pokémon see battle, even if it is his strongest. However, he claims Hydreigon is his ace. Is this just another battle tactic, or is he just embarrassed of the vulnerability he feels about it?

Last but not least, our favorite yakboy, Logan. He has a Cubone (for exactly the reasons you think, sorry), Gliscor, Lucario, an Aegislash, and his father's Cranidos which he hopes to someday evolve in his honor. His partner pokémon is a Luxray, raised from a little Shinx, and he's always on the hunt for items to buff the hell out of it so it's not as vulnerable to ground types. He refuses to consider any one of them his ace; to him, they're all valuable assets to his team and extremely reliable individuals. He constantly has to remind them to be careful when they roughhouse with Andy, bless him.

haha so yeah that's everything, thanks for reading

I spent literally all day writing this post please like or reblog it

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cybershock24601 · 3 months ago

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In honor of April Fool's Day, let me tell you all about the crack Venture Bros au I came up with for Veilguard based off Hezenkoss having huge supervillian vibes and an almost Monarch like pathological obsession with Emmrich and Lucanis' 9 to 5 approach to assassination work that aligns so well with what the Guild of Calamitous Intent has going on.

So I'm imagining Emmrich as this cross between Dr. Orpheus and the super scientist archetype that's honestly pretty B-tier as protagonists go but gets brought into all the supervillain/superhero stuff because Hezenkoss is pretty high up in the ranks of the Guild because she just has that quintessential supervillain flair. So Emmrich just tries to get through his day with his lab assistants Bellara and Rook, skeletal helper Manfred, and gets top OSI agent Davrin as protection while constantly having to deal with Hezenkoss' shenanigans. It's all very routine but eventually Hezenkoss just gets a little too intense so the Guild forces her to switch up protagonists and let me just tell you she absolutely spirals Monarch style and is doing a whole bunch behind the scenes to try to reclaim her rightful place as Emmrich's archnemesis.

Enter Lucanis who's been assigned to arch Emmrich. The thing about Lucanis is that they've known him for years because he and Rook are engaged, they've all gone to regular dinner parties at their apartment, and Davrin and he are even friends but none of them knew that Lucanis was a supervillain because Lucanis and Rook have a strict policy of leaving work at the door and arching is really a very 9 to 5 sort of thing to Lucanis anyways.

Lucanis really only does it because Caterina, also known as The Talon, is on the Council and really wants Lucanis to take her place even though it's pretty apparent to everyone that Illario is the one that enjoys supervillainy and has much more of a flair for it. Lucanis is competent but really just going through the motions especially since he got together with Rook and would be much happier with his job if he was just a Guild assassin or hell, even an anti hero would suit him more than supervillain.

Anyways, Lucanis shows up and Davrin is the most upset about finding out Lucanis is a villain because they were bros and also it does sting Davrin's professional pride that he never knew about it especially since something about Lucanis rubbed him the wrong way in the beginning but Davrin just ended up having to write that feeling off because Lucanis was a good dude and an excellent partner to Rook. Emmrich is very surprised but does appreciate Lucanis' professionalism even if he does end up having to go through paperwork about the best ways to menace him.

Rook on the other hand is just relentlessness flirting with her fiance because she's always thought he looks hot in his costume while Lucanis just blushes and bashfully tells her that he's trying to work right now. Bellara who's very much an outsider on all this is just full of questions and finds the whole thing fascinating because what do you mean there's whole Guild of supervillains with rules and regulations because Bellara was just under the impression that Hezenkoss was just criminally insane to go after Emmrich the way she did which is actually a pretty accurate assessment of Hezenkoss's whole deal.

Rook also comes from a legacy family seeing as she's an Amell but they're all protagonists and she rather deliberately took up a job as Emmrich's assistant/sidekick to try and avoid getting dragged into more supervillain shenanigans than necessary because otherwise there would likely be a lot of low level villains attempting to menace her to make a name for themselves but as Emmrich's sidekick Guild rules would keep her from being bothered outside of whoever was currently arching him. Rook keeps her family relations quiet though and always surprises Davrin with how much she knows about Guild procedure and the ins and outs of the OSI.

More highlights of this au include them being invited to Villa Dellamorte for a celebration held by Caterina in honor of her grandson getting a new arch which is super awkward for them all, Illario getting fed up with never being allowed to advance in the Guild and deciding to turn coat to the Peril Partnership, Hezenkoss doing the Most in the background to try and get back to arching Emmrich, and finally Lucanis and Rook's wedding getting ruined because there are a lot of heroes and villains and secret agents that had to be invited to the thing and all those big personalities cause things to descend into absolute chaos that finally pushes Lucanis far enough that he decides to leave the Guild.

#I have more stuff for the rest of the veilguard but they don't fit here #although I can say that Neve Gallus is a street level vigilante detective kicking ass in the background and a close friend of Lucanis #she also attends rookanis' monthly dinner parties #venture veilguard au #dragon age #dragon age veilguard #datv #rookanis #rook #lucanis dellamorte #Emmrich Volkarin #bellara lutare #davrin #johanna hezenkoss

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frozenjokes · 7 months ago

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CUBFAN NOOOOO THE ROBOT ISNT IN LOVE WITH YOU HE JUST THINKS YOU HAVE AUTISM!!!!!!

So. Like. Why did they make the robot hot.

This was a train of thought through Cub’s mind more often than he cared to admit, but it was weird, wasn’t it? It was definitely weird that they made the robot hot! It didn’t need to be hot. It was a child care robot, a teacher’s helper, there was no reason to make the robot hot for that kind of role. It- Maybe he- Cub often found himself flip flopping on the pronouns- was meant to aid in spotting potential learning disabilities in children, give assessments on occasion, and make recommendations to parents. That was it’s whole job. So why was it hot.

There were other oddities about it as well, but those made marginally more sense. The name, Scar, was just about the dumbest thing you could’ve called your mental health robot, but Cub could see how that might appeal to the kids. A ‘cool’ name for a cool guy, or whatever. Scar was also overly friendly, with the elementary school staff as well as kids, but this made relative sense as well. Obviously you want your robot to get along with others, be amenable to staff, and be high energy for the kids. It didn’t matter if this programming made Cub want to tear his hair out most days, at least he understood it. He was relatively certain Scar was also programmed to seek out shier, less talkative kids in an effort to incorporate everyone into the main group, because he would not leave Cub alone. Cub spent most of his break time in the custodian’s office for a reason, he did not need a Scar-sanctioned check in multiple times a day.

Cub had actually complained once to Scar’s maker; a woman named Cleo who came in a couple days a week to supervise its work, but she had only offered a weak apology, muttering something about age differentiation and troubles with programming, though, after that day, Scar bothered Cub with much less frequency.

Cub should have asked her why she made him hot. Honestly, he could probably ask Scar directly and get a straight answer, but Cub didn’t particularly want to go out of his way to humor the damn pest, when most of the time he could not keep up with Scar’s energy and would much rather be left alone. Well. That’s what he told himself most days at least. What really bothered Cub was how human Scar felt.

Cub knew this was the point. Scar had to feel human to make connections with the kids, get to know them on a level a psychiatrist wouldn’t be able to in a 90 minute session, it made sense, but it was equally disturbing because Scar was charming and funny and really attractive, and all of this was mixing up to be some extremely confusing feelings on Cub’s end.

Scar didn’t feel like a robot, and it frightened Cub how much he liked him- it. Scar had to be an ‘it’ because if it was a ‘he,’ then it would make perfect sense why Scar’s eyes lit up when he saw Cub, it would make sense why Scar was so engaged and excitable, it would make sense why Scar flubbed his words, tripped over his feet, was a a little uncoordinated, imperfect in all the most human ways.

Was it so pathetic to think of Scar as his friend? No- Scar wasn’t his friend, he was a robot, and the root of all of Cub’s problems was simply that they had made Scar attractive.

Whatever. It was fine. Cub had a normal reaction to Scar stopping by less often, he definitely wasn’t upset and definitely wasn’t paying special attention to the cleanliness of rooms that Scar was more likely to be.. Extremely unfortunate that Scar did not have to use the bathroom, and if he did happen to be hanging around, most of the time he had five or six little ones hanging off him at the same time. Not a great environment for talking casually, and Scar was more focused on the kids anyway, which- that was his job, it was fine. Cub wasn’t so out of his mind that he was getting jealous of children, for fuck’s sake.

Cub did end up spending more time in the staff break room though. Hanging around Cleo’s office when Cleo wasn’t in, though Scar was almost never in there alone, not unless he was prepping some kind of assessment.

Either way, whenever Scar saw Cub milling about with the other staff, participating in mind numbing small talk, or simply listening in a small crowd, Scar was nothing less than thrilled. Now, Scar was always this way with everyone, but Cub couldn’t help feeling like he was special, little praises and positive reinforcements always seeming to be especially geared toward him. Did the other staff notice? Did they also think Scar was giving Cub special attention? Cub would have asked, but he was not nearly close enough with any of the teachers to allude to any of his own attachments to a fucking robot. And regardless of how friendly a lot of the staff were, there was not a single person in this school who was easier to talk to than the robot. There was no risk with Scar, Cub could make a complete fool of himself (and had) for hours and Scar would see him no differently.

Cub startled at the school bell, indicating the end of the day, shiiiittt, how long had he been spaced out at his desk? He frowned, shaking his head. Whatever, whatever, the bulk of his workload would be now, anyway. Cub got to his feet, moving to fill the mop bucket in the faucet on the other side of the cramped room. Despite the heavier workload, these were his favorite parts of the day. He’d put his headphones on, get into the groove of his routine, and clean for two or three hours before heading home, usually uninterrupted. He really didn’t mind kids, he wouldn’t have stayed here so long if he hated them, but there was a certain peace to the school after hours, and Cub enjoyed the predictability of being here alone.

Cub screamed when he turned around to see Scar in his doorway, water sloshing over the side of the bucket as he jumped. By the time Cub had gotten his headphones off, thoroughly embarrassed, Scar was already apologizing.

“-Oh dear, I hope I didn’t get you too wet, I didn’t mean to scare you!”

“It’s fine,” Cub half laughed, mostly out of nerves. He stared at the water on the ground for a moment, easier than looking at Scar, then shrugged. “It’s just water.”

“Water’s scary stuff! Oceans, lakes, pools, brrrr, no thank you! Though, Jenny was telling me the other day about how her family took her and her brother up to their lake house and they went tubing and that really sounded fun, it’s a shame I’ll never get to do something like that.” Scar was always referencing one of the five hundred kids in this school by name, something Cub used to admonish him for, but didn’t bother anymore. No point when he’d go right back to it the next day. Scar also had an extremely concerning habit of naming things he’d love to do or things he wanted, which was way too human and way too disturbing if Cub thought about it too long. Why would he be programmed to want something he could never have??

“You and water don’t mix, huh?” Cub said quickly, realizing he’d drifted off, but Scar was patient, never minding an awkward dip in a conversation.

“Oh no, no sir, I mean, I’m quite resistant, I’ll tell you that, but I can’t be submerged or anything just in case. Water’s killer, did you know? Cleo won’t even let me outside if it’s raining too hard!”

Cub snorted, “Well I know now.”

“Great!” Scar brightened, as if he hadn’t already been radiant before, “Hey, I was wondering, do you have a free 90 minutes? I was hoping to spend a little time together before Cleo picks me up at 6:00, but I’ve got my hands full during the day, you know how it is.”

Cub blinked several times, and he must have had a startled expression on his face, because Scar reacted in turn. “No pressure, of course! If today doesn’t work, I’m quite flexible! I don’t do much in these couple hours anyway, just sitting around, twiddling my thumbs… But I’d love to talk to you!”

Cub’s mouth dried, but this time when he stared blankly at Scar’s doofy, hopeful face, Scar did not make any more amendments, waiting for Cub to respond. Cub swallowed hard. “I’m still working. Sorry, Scar.” His internal demons screeched and flipped tables all over the scape of Cub’s mind, but he remained firm. This just wasn’t a good time, and as willing as Cub was to slack off for ten minutes here or there, he wasn’t trying to get written up. He almost asked if Scar would be free over the weekend, then bit his tongue. It’s a robot, pull it together!

But Scar did not look disappointed, his expression never wavering. Messy brown hair, vibrant green eyes, just a smattering of freckles and soft dimples from his near permanent crooked smile- Cub was hopeless.

“Cub?”

Cub blinked, and Scar’s expression had shifted, still cheerful, but more inquisitive. Cub got the feeling he’d missed something. “Sorry- What was that?”

“I thought I’d help you! You were going to mop the bathrooms, right? I can’t imagine this taking more than three hours alone, but if you’ve got a second mop, we’ll cut the time right in half! You can carve out a little time for me, can’t you, Cub?” Scar winked, and Cub thought he might die.

“I don’t just clean the bathrooms, Scar. All the classrooms, the cafeteria, and I have to vacuum the carpets on the first and second floors today as well. It’s probably not going to happen.”

“Oh dear, that is a lot.” Scar rubbed at the nonexistent stubble on his chin, straightening and snapping his fingers as he came to an exciting conclusion. “How about this, then! Next week, Wednesday, Cleo can’t pick me up until 8:00! I’ll be around all day, and you’ll be off by then, right? And in the meantime, I’ll keep you company! An apology for scaring you so bad, how does that sound?”

“I-“ Cub couldn’t think of anything better. “I’d like that.”

Scar seemed to have negative effects on Cub’s productivity, but if Scar noticed, he didn’t care, and Cub certainly didn’t mind. Well. He minded a little bit. This was not the relaxing music-listening routine Cub had been looking forward to, but he did get to spend a lot more time ogling Scar and listening to him ramble on about nothing in particular, which was nice. Apparently Suzy and Brenda weren’t getting along again, and Scar just wasn’t sure what to do! Cub had no advice to give, even despite Scar’s attempts to claw it out of him. Scar wanted clear, critical answers, solid directions, and all Cub had to offer was ‘that’s crazy, man,’ and ‘kids are wild,’ and ‘I never got up to any of that stuff, I wouldn’t know.’

However, this did prompt a conversation about Cub’s childhood, specifically what he was like as a kid, which was a little more engaging, though Cub didn’t have much more to say about himself that Scar didn’t already know. Cub politely dismissed questions along the lines of ‘did you have trouble making friends growing up?’ and outright rolled his eyes when Scar asked if he had a family history of neurodivergence, but these were all just symptoms of Scar’s programming, nothing more. Scar seemed to be able to tell Cub had no interest in this conversation given his curt or non-committal answers, and the subject was soon changed. A happy Scar was most content when both parties were having a good time after all.

“This was a lot of fun!” Scar said as Cub was finishing up with the vacuum, but given the noise, Scar had to yell to be heard, which was comical in itself. “I really like hanging out with you, Cub! It’s been so great seeing you around more often, I hope you keep doing what you’re doing here!”

Cub hated that he flushed at that, but luckily he was facing away, moving steadily down the hall while Scar trailed after him. It just killed him that Scar was so- so- the way that he was! Kind, generous, always playful.. As much as it was a bear to take the mop away from Scar every time he tried to use it like a sword, it was also fun, and it really made Cub dwell on how much of that he was missing from his normal life. Someone fun. Someone who spared no expense when it came to kindness, little compliments, someone who just wanted to make Cub feel comfortable, feel good.

“Thank you, Scar.” Cub mumbled, but there was no way Scar heard him over the vacuum. That was fine. He was feeling a little too vulnerable to repeat himself.

And that night, he lay awake in bed, cursing himself for being so weak. Scar was a robot, literally wire and plastic, its show of emotions adaptive to appeal to children, nothing more, nothing less.

But Scar liked him. Scar liked him, Cub was so sure of it- Scar wanted to hang out, was always happy to see Cub, always engaged, always dropping little bits of praise- Scar wanted to be alone with him. Surely there was a reason, wasn’t there? Maybe Scar was sentient, maybe he wanted Cub to know, to know that he was trapped in the house of his maniacal maker, and wanted to run away, live somewhere safe with someone he knew he could trust. Of course he could trust Cub- Cub had- well, he’d dropped out of college so it’s not like he had a degree in robotics or anything, but he knew some coding, and he was sure if something broke he could figure it out! He would put the work in, he would do it if Scar needed him to.

Perhaps that was a little bit deranged of a fantasy. Rein it in a little, Cub.

Maybe Scar wanted to kiss him. Maybe he’d seen it on TV, knew the idea, the basics, the why and the how, but he’d never done it before and he wanted to know it, wanted to try. Anyone would be curious, wouldn’t they? Cub wasn’t- he wasn’t a particularly great kisser, but Scar wouldn’t know that, would he. Cub would be a perfectly serviceable first kiss, and he could- oh, maybe he should really make an effort to use more chapstick before next Wednesday.

This was so stupid. He could not be crushing on a robot.

…

Maybe it would be acceptable to crush on the robot if it did actually want to kiss him. Surely it liked him. It wouldn’t be giving Cub so much special attention otherwise!

Oooohh if Cub shared a bed with a robot, its skin would be cold, right? Cub was always getting so hot at night, but he hated giving up the weight of his covers. If he was hot he couldn’t sleep though- Yes. A robot boyfriend would be the solution.

The week leading up to Cub and Scar’s- whatever this was going to be, was uneventful. He didn’t sense that Scar was acting any differently this week, but given the fact that Scar’s normal was a little bit out of his mind, maybe that meant nothing. Scar seemed excited about their meeting, reminding Cub every few days, though he didn’t seem nervous. Cub wasn’t actually sure if he could remember a time Scar had ever acted apprehensively; maybe that wasn’t something he was programmed to be able to do. Cub was a little bit enchanted by the idea of that. Scar, ever-confident, never held back by nerves or anxiety, wouldn’t that be a nice guy to have around. Cub bet Scar could order in a drive through window without stuttering, and he’d probably be able to talk loudly and clearly too, get the order across on the first try. What a guy…

After Cub stopped feeling pathetic about these dullest of benign fantasies, he got back to work. Though, the day of their Big Meeting, Cub was having quite a bit of trouble keeping it together. He hadn’t slept well the night before, spending hours unable to stop thinking about this, about Scar, about what Scar might want with Cub, ranging from plausible to utterly absurd. Scar had managed to entirely consume his thoughts, and all of this to blame on the fact that Cleo made their stupid mental health child care robot attractive.

Maybe Cub would ask. If this was a romantic meeting, he didn’t think it would come completely out of nowhere, not that Scar would mind either way. It was a reasonable question, in his humble opinion! Scar was obviously into him, or he wouldn’t ask to hang out alone together for an extended period of time! And all the other stuff! Cub could make a red stringed cork board out of Scar’s suspicious behavior, and truly, all lines could only lead back to one thing.

And so the time came.

Cub didn’t see Scar around very much after school let out for the kids, but that wasn’t particularly abnormal, only noticeable because Cub was thinking about him so much. God, honestly, whatever happened, it would be a relief for this thing to just be over so Cub would regain the ability to think about anything else.

Cub poked his head into Cleo’s office, relieved to see Scar there. It was a nice room, much like a therapist’s office, which Cub supposed made sense. There was a desk, a place Cub assumed Cleo often sat, but Scar was in a comfier looking chair, messing with something on the coffee table. He looked up when Cub opened the door further, brightening instantly.

“Hello! Come in, come in, I can’t wait to talk to you!” Scar gestured to the loveseat across from him, and Cub entered gingerly, looking around with some caution. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but this.. he wasn’t sure. Something about it seemed so ordinary. Cub supposed this was the consequence of getting in his head about things. He closed the door behind himself before taking a seat.

“Hey, it’s good to see you.” Cub paused, grappling with himself internally on whether or not to just shoot his shot. There wasn’t really a reason not to, was there? “Missed you today,” and the words came out strangled, just about the most miserable, pathetic sounding noise he could have made.

Scar laughed, not unkindly, “I’ve been busy, unfortunately! Figured you might be as well, and I wouldn’t want you getting too sick of me before we got to spend some proper time together.”

Cub shifted in his seat, “I don’t know about that.”

“According to Cleo, it is extremely easy to get sick of me, and I think she would know! Cleo’s the expert on all things me after all.”

“That’s- That’s not very nice of them to say.” This was it, surely. Cleo was treating Scar badly, he needed help.

“Oh, well I’m not really capable of having my feelings hurt, so it’s not a big deal. I’d rather she be honest with me so I can continue to improve! I know you yourself said I can be overbearing as well, and I appreciate the feedback.”

“I-I didn’t mean-“

“Don’t worry about it,” and Scar was kind, so kind, “Again, it is literally impossible to hurt my feelings. You can’t do it.” He brightened, “Try! try!”

“I don’t have anything bad to say about you Scar-“

“You do, I know you do, Cleo told me!” Scar was thrilled by the idea of this, while Cub’s distress only mounted. And then, in what must have been his best Cleo impression, continued on, “That poor custodian! Leave him alone, Scar, he wants nothing to do with you!”

“I- Hey! I did not say that! I actually did not say that. I can’t believe this.”

“What did you say?” Scar looked so amused, and Cub couldn’t help but humor him, crumbling.

“I just called you a pain in the ass- but I didn’t mean it! It’s not like I’m doing that much anyway, I like talking to you-“

“Weak.”

Cub gawked, “What?”

“Come on, Cub, I’ve heard that before plenty of times! Do you know how often Cleo calls me a pain in her side, geez Louise, it’s like I’m not her beloved psychiatrist invention, she should really treat me better! Now, Timmy the other day called me a-”

“Does that bother you?”

Scar stopped, blinking in surprise. “Does what bother me?”

“That Cleo doesn’t treat you well.” Cub found himself fidgeting, struggling to look at Scar when his eyes softened, almost pitying.

“I’m not human, Cub. Sometimes I wish I could understand what it’s like to be you, so eager to personify the smallest things, though, I do realize the impulse is stronger when I..” Scar gestured vaguely to himself, “Y’know. It’s funny, a little. Cleo thought implementing me as a prototype would be a lot harder than it was, with me being as I am, but it turns out a human face does a lot of the heavy lifting. I hardly have to do more than exist for people to assume I’m just like them, but you’d do better to remember that’s not the case.” Just when Cub was finding himself a little unnerved, Scar sat up, clapping his hands, “But Cleo and I are friends! I’m sure if I was allowed to swear I’d have a couple choice words to share with them too, but alas! Truly, if you continue to be concerned despite the fact that I literally lack the ability to care, Cleo gets their comeuppance from time to time. I earn that title of being a pain, I’ll tell you that.”

Cub wasn’t entirely sure what to do with all of this, but Scar didn’t seem to be concerned, opening a box with a- was that a puzzle? Either way, whatever Scar was setting up, Cub didn’t want to kill the vibe or anything, choosing to ignore most of that in favor of a lighter topic, “How often do you have to be censored? Surely you wouldn’t just start cussing out kids if Cleo let you say fuck.”

“Oh, no, I definitely would!” But before Cub could ask him to Elaborate Please, Scar laid a collection of wooden 2D shapes out on the table- Tangrams the box said. Cub remembered playing with those in school when he was little. There were picture cards in the box, shapes you were meant to create using the smaller pieces. “Do you want to play?”

“Sure,” Cub shrugged, unsure what this was about. Had Scar seen him fidgeting? Was he trying to give Cub something to do with his hands? Cub pursed his lips against how sweet the gesture was. He did like the shapes… There were quite a few of them, Cub bet he could stack them pretty high. “I’m not past the swearing thing though, are you seriously saying you’d go ballistic with free reign over the English vocabulary.”

“Oh! Yeah, probably! Cleo thinks so at least, but they foresaw this issue before I was able to speak for the first time.” Scar sat back, seemingly happy to watch Cub do his thing, which.. a little awkward, Cub wouldn’t lie, but he had more important things to do, like try and stack the octagons vertically on their sides, and this required a great amount of focus. Scar happily kept talking, “I learned to talk by watching humans have normal conversations with each other, and I picked up on patterns of speech from that. Now, in a controlled environment it doesn’t really matter, you can keep swear words out of your videos and make your confederates keep their language clean, but when Cleo started taking me out to the field to hear real people talk, you can’t exactly control what they say. I understand how to talk casually from listening to hours and hours and hours of natural conversation, and I implement that into the way I speak now. Because swearing is so common and elicits so many strong responses from the people around me, especially kids, I’d start doing it a whole lot.”

Cub bit his lip, half paying attention. When his octagon tower fell, he mumbled, “Well you can tell the difference between kids and adults, can’t you? Just don’t swear in front of the kids.” Cub frowned at the shapes in front of him, a little scrambled from his rabid impulse to stackstackstackstack. He put the pieces he’d withdrawn back in their place before looking at the puzzle cards. They were a lot simpler than he remembered; checks out, honestly. Perks of being an adult, or maybe not. He kinda wished they were harder. Still, he started going through them, placing the different shape pieces on the template and attempting to fit them all inside.

“Well there’s a lot to unpack there, Cub, but there are quite a few times it would be inappropriate to swear in front of adults as well- Cleo wants to to retain some amount of professionalism, so. But I also can’t do that.”

Cub blinked. “What?”

“I can’t tell the difference between kids and adults. I’m actually quite bad at it, believe it or not. I mean, between little ones and staff it’s easy, but humans have a lot going on! Some adults look so young, and some kids look so- adulty! When Cleo was trying to put guidelines in place, it created a lot more problems than it solved, so she let it be. I’m pretty terrible at gender as well, I’d probably guess correctly in your case, but with 60% of the school, I couldn’t tell you, especially the little ones. Actually, I could tell you because I have all the ages and genders of the kids and staff tucked away in my database, but this doesn’t generalize to the real world. Cleo’s still working on it.”

“That’s. Very odd.”

“Not really! Humans have all sorts of decision making complexities that I don’t, so it’s much harder for me to differentiate the little things from each other than, say, conduct psychiatric assessments. I get clear instructions, I know what to look for, and I can make fairly basic, but also quite accurate initial diagnoses! There’s far more variables when it comes to physical observations, and I’m no good at that stuff. Trust me, Cleo’s been tearing their hair out over it for years.” Scar continued to ramble on about the specifics of his own strengths and weaknesses, but he didn’t say anything drastic enough to pull Cub out of Puzzle World, where he was currently in the zone. Some of these were ridiculously easy, baby shit, but a few were out for blood, and Cub would not fall at their parallelogram shaped hands-

Cub’s head snapped up when Scar gingerly attempted to start cleaning Cub’s frenzy driven puzzle nightmare, and he must have looked quite frightening, because Scar backed off, blinking at Cub inquisitively.

“I’m not done.” Cub said, answer enough.

“I thought we might do something else?” Scar tried, looking hopeful, and maybe he sensed Cub was feeling violent about his archenemies The Parallelogram, because Scar added, “You can always come back to this, the office is always open. It’s already been an hour, so I was hoping we could do one more activity together?”

That certainly got Cub’s attention, though he didn’t relinquish his pieces without some hesitation. “What do you want to do?”

“Well!” Scar produced a small picture book out of nowhere, definitely one made for kids. “This book doesn’t have any words, but I’d love for you to read it to me!”

Cub stared. Scar stared back, just as unyieldingly radiant as always. He wasn’t joking. Suddenly, Cub wanted to give up his puzzle much less, but Scar was already putting it away.

“Give it a look, won’t you? I really like this story.” Hurriedly, Scar shoved the book into Cub’s hands, so aggressively that Cub fumbled to hold it.

“If you’ve already read it, I’m sure you don’t need me to do it for you,” Cub tried, still uncertain about this. What was the point? Was this Scar’s idea of a date? Romance? Maybe Cub should play into it in that case.. It was possible most activities Scar was familiar with revolved around kids, so he tended to share those experiences with adults as well.

“I like hearing what other people have to say about it. When there’s no words, you kind of make your own story, don’t you?”

“Well.. I guess so. I don’t think I’ll do a very good job though,” and Cub was certain that was true. He didn’t really. Emote well. Or talk like he felt any emotions at all. Out of all the staff, Cub was probably the worst person to improvise a story, even based on a picture book.

As if reading his mind, Scar spoke up, “You don’t have to be engaging! Just tell me what’s happening, I’ll follow along.”

Cub pursed his lips, but found no reason not to try. Maybe this was leading up to something bigger. Maybe at the end of this, if Scar didn’t make a move, Cub could try and shoot his shot. He hadn’t prepared for that possibility but- oh well, better to have this be a surprise than to think about it all next week.

He opened the book, and to the best of his ability, told the story.

Predictably, he did a horrid job of it. Cub was far too stilted, put too much detail into the wrong places, and generally wasn’t very entertaining. It was a pretty simple story, really; frogs flying around a town on lily pads, causing great alarm among the townsfolk and generating mild mischief wherever they went, nothing particularly eventful. The most interesting thing Cub had to say was his critique of the man in one page, eating a bread sandwich at 11:40 PM with a glass of milk- milk! What kind of freak drinks straight up milk just in a glass like that, not anyone Cub wanted to associate with, that was for sure! Scar seemed to get a kick out of that at least. Cub was relieved, though the rest was still excruciating to get through.

“And then next Tuesday, pigs fly, I guess,” Cub shut the book before Scar could ask for any critical analysis or extra details or whatever else- Cub did his best, but his own impatience with this activity made it clear to himself that he wanted more out of this, and if Scar wasn’t going to say anything, Cub would have to be the one to do it first lest he spend another week agonizing over it. “Scar, I really like you. I really like you, and I wanted you to know it, and I don’t know how much free will you have to leave the house with Cleo on your back all the time, but I’d really love to hang out sometime outside of work. Go to the park maybe? Sometimes I feed the crows, I bet you’d get a kick out of that.” Cub found himself fumbling towards the end, his own Being Flustered catching up with him.

Scar was looking at him so sweetly, that small smile ever-present, head cocked inquisitively. “That sounds delightful,” he spoke softer, and whether this was because he was reacting to Cub’s being worked up or because he was just pleased, Cub couldn’t tell. “Now, I’ll have to check with Cleo, I don’t normally have much reason to be going anywhere, but I see no reason there’d be any issues. The park ten minutes from here, yeah? We go there all the time on weekends! It’s where I do most of my listening to people; that and restaurants. I’ll let you know what she says.”

“I- Sure.” Cub released a shaky breath, unsure if he was relieved that this had gone well or a little scared that this had to go through Cleo first. He did not particularly want them to know he was trying to date their robot, but oh well. Surely that’s not the first thing she’d think, right? Friends hang out normal style all the time, and Cub and Scar were friends. Well. For now. But Cleo didn’t have to know that. Cub opened his mouth to clarify a time, and maybe also that this was a date, but Scar talked first, returning to his boisterous form.

“Now, do keep in mind that my initial diagnostic assessments aren’t perfect, and if you’re interested, I’d recommend going to a psychiatrist for further testing, but I’m pleased to tell you that you have autism!”

Something shattered in Cub’s brain, but Scar did not stop talking.

“Now, outside of our assessment today, there are quite a few things I noticed that indicated this might be the case, which I can list for you if you’re interested, but for this specific session, I can give you some more insight on what I noted down. For starters, flat affect and tone of voice, rigidity in play, the bouncing of your foot was near constant throughout our session, when you told you story, you never commented on the emotions of the characters.. There’s more of course, but sometimes people have those immediate questions I’m hoping to answer for you now. I’ll have the full diagnostic report with your specific scores printed tonight, and I can either mail it to you or hand it to you tomorrow-“

“Scar.”

Scar blinked, no less radiant. “Yes?”

“I’m not-“ Cub tried to collect his thoughts, but they’d all been scrambled when Scar catapulted several boulders through the glass walls of his mind. “I’m not autistic, first- Was this just. This is why you wanted..?”

“Oh, I really do think you are.” Scar could have puffed out his chest with how proudly he said it, but Cub was pretty sure he just imagined that. “I’ll include notes from outside our assessment, as this is the reason I’m able to keep things so short in the office. Don’t you worry though, all your interview data is entirely confidential! All data is stored directly in my system, which is not wired to any other databases that could be hacked or stolen. If you have any additional questions or concerns about the accuracy of my tests, diagnosis, or future steps, you can ask me directly or contact Cleo’s business email address.” Before Cub could even react, Scar was shoving a business card into Cub’s hands, pointing to the email on the back.

“I have to go.” Cub stood stiffly, nearly stumbling on shaky legs.

“Are you alright, Cub? I understand if you need time to process, but I would advise you to keep an open mind. Be kind to yourself.”

“I’m fine, Scar. I’m fine. Just- dehydrated.” Stupid. Stupid. Fucking- STUPID. “Goodbye.”

“Oh!” Scar couldn’t have sounded any more delighted at this news, “Alright, take care then!”

Cub slammed the door behind himself.

…

To: Cleo Z.

Subject: Scar.

WHY IS YOUR FUCLINH ROBOT CALLING ME AUTISTIX?????????

…

Cleo Z. [no subject]

To You

Hello, Cub. He is not supposed to do that. I am very sorry for any distress or frustration this may have caused you, however, I hope you take some solace in knowing I am most definitely more unhappy about this than you are. Please note that Scar’s diagnostic assessments are still in the testing phase, therefore, any of the results given are not grounds for an official diagnosis.

Regards, Cleo

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