#brain damage: the tv show

[bisclavret]

merlin LOVED being challenged and perceived by gwaine every interaction they have in s3 is gwaine saying something controversial but true or being surprisingly vulnerable and merlin fluttering his eyelashes like omg for meeee? and even in s4 after lancelot dies and merlin grieves and gwaine joins the knights and signs an NDA contract that prevents him from being opinionated on the clock they still meet in the middle when gwaine powers past the dismissive façade merlin is putting up and they touch FINGERS by CANDLELIGHT and gwaine challenges merlin for his own good (because he's spiraling over gaius's abduction and pushing everyone away) and like the logical thing here would be for gwaine to realize that his approach still works and merlin NEEDS gwaine to poke at him from time to time but instead he proceeds to never do anything of the sort ever again and fades into the background until merlin happens to beckon him and the thing is they wrote him as too smart and temperamental when he was first introduced for him backing down to make a lick of sense unless we assume that he's had so many concussions that he's basically lobotomized by season 5. many such cases unfortunately

[sugarcoatednightshade]

thinking about how Humans Are Space Orcs stories always talk about how indestructible humans are, our endurance, our ability to withstand common poisons, etc. and thats all well and good, its really fun to read, but it gets repetitive after a while because we aren't all like that.

And that got me thinking about why this trope is so common in the first place, and the conclusion I came to is actually kind of obvious if you think about it. Not everyone is allowed to go into space. This is true now, with the number of physical restrictions placed on astronauts (including height limits), but I imagine it's just as strict in some imaginary future where humans are first coming into contact with alien species. Because in that case there will definitely be military personnel alongside any possible diplomatic parties.

And I imagine that all interactions aliens have ever had up until this point have been with trained personnel. Even basic military troops conform to this standard, to some degree. So aliens meet us and they're shocked and horrified to discover that we have no obvious weaknesses, we're all either crazy smart or crazy strong (still always a little crazy, academia and war will do that to you), and not only that but we like, literally all the same height so there's no way to tell any of us apart.

And Humans Are Death Worlders stories spread throughout the galaxy. Years or decades or centuries of interspecies suspicion and hostilities preventing any alien from setting foot/claw/limb/appendage/etc. on Earth until slowly more beings are allowed to come through. And not just diplomats who keep to government buildings, but tourists. Exchange students. Temporary visitors granted permission to go wherever they please, so they go out in search of 'real terran culture' and what do they find?

Humans with innate heart defects that prevent them from drinking caffeine. Humans with chronic pain and chronic fatigue who lack the boundless endurance humans are supposedly famous for. Humans too tall or too short or too fat to be allowed into space. Humans who are so scared of the world they need to take pills just to function. Humans with IBS who can't stand spicy foods, capsaicin really is poison to them. Lactose intolerance and celiac disease, my god all the autoimmune disorders out there, humans who struggle to function because their own bodies fight them. Humans who bruise easily and take too long to heal. Humans who sustained one too many concussions and now struggle to talk and read and write. Humans who've had strokes. Humans who were born unable to talk or hear or speak, and humans who through some accident lost that ability later.

Aliens visit Earth, and do you know what they find? Humanity, in all its wholeness.

[dramadramallama]

ok real talk now: why is weak hero class 2 even gayer than the first season

[rowanthestrange]

Saying that out loud, the Doctor having the power of manifestation and then abusing it, would definitionally be how you’d get the Master. That’s what he’d be. He’d be Master of everything.

If the Master’s the master of the show, and wants to turn the Doctor into him (so either the Master can be the Doctor, they can be together, or if nothing else to end the show)…

Is the Salting…his choice to include? Cus we wondered why the hell Fourteen just had a whole shaker of salt in a random pocket after being born maybe six hours ago and literally regenerating the clothes.

What if that was a Production Choice to put one in there? Can’t control players directly but can quietly arrange objects, times, places.

And if so, is the Doctor’s beliefs become reality thing diegetic or…mid-diegetic? As in they’re Production Interference to make them so?

Oh god we’ve been talking about diegetic and non-diegetic but there’s three layers there’s Doctor Who The TV Show, Outside The Doctor Who Show But Still In The Whoniverse, and Actual Real Life.

[clonehub]

I'm writing the arc with the marooned disabled clones. There's only about a third left of the original battalion (576 people give or take). Anything in particular y'all want to see?

Bear in mind that it's unlikely this will ever see the light of day but I remember mentioning this ages ago on here and everyone really liked the idea(s) I was positing. I have two paraplegic clones, a clone with no legs and another with no arms. One has chronic pain and several have brain damage of some kind. Going through the script, I'm realizing I can't focus on all these guys as much as I'd like to unfortunately, but I'm also open to suggestions.

I don't intend to shy away from the harder parts of being disabled and needing round-the-clock care. The medic mentions how they have members who can't feed themselves and how one of their most important supplies is adult diapers. Others need help bathing or need assistance getting around (they've managed to make some wheel chairs and crutches). I have a scene with a clone getting assistance bathing and brushing his teeth. I'm also about to add a scene for a clone who has a facial deformity as a result of the crash and how he copes with it.

[tuttle-did-it]

The first time I saw Last Action Hero, I thought it was one of the worst films I'd ever seen. It was promoted to be a typical Arnold Schwarzenegger action flick, and on that level, it totally failed. It was considered a huge disaster of a film even though it had what it needed to be successful as a mindless Arnie flick.

But that's not what it was trying to do. It was, in fact, a brilliant mockery of mindless action flicks that Arnie was famous for, satirising Hollywood, action actors, the crucial role films play in western society, and the para-social relationships audiences have with actors and characters. The studio marketing team completely screwed this film over. All the finer moments of irony, satire and absurdity were lost because the idiots marketed it as a completely different film than it was.

Sometimes, you go in with expectations for something-- very often, the wrong expectations. And occasionally, when you see it again, under different conditions with different expectations, you realise that when you can take something for what it actually is, it can be something amazing.

Expectations can often do more damage than we realise.

Sometimes you need to read something twice to get it. You might need to watch a movie three times to understand it. You might have to have that album on repeat for a week until the lyrics make any sense. You're allowed to engage with it and can keep engaging with it until it means something to you. People will see a painting at a museum and laugh about not getting what the big deal is but like you can come back, you can see it at another time, and maybe that next time it'll be different for you. I'm of the belief the "media literacy crisis" would solve itself if more people just sat down and did it again. Watched, read, played, listened, etc like I don't think people are getting more ignorant necessarily I just think we're not glorifying personally replaying things nearly as much as we should be.

[starswallowingsea]

himeru would like link click

[hiddenreamers]

Unlikely pair

SUMMARY: Where Oscar is dating a musician known for strictness and harsh comments on survival shows. To everyone's surprise, the unlikely pair is nothing short of perfect.

yntheone made a new post:

Close your eyes, take my time Let's remember this moment

Photograph (prod. Offonoff) is out on Thursday

Comments:

user1: WHATTT

user2: this is not a drill I repeat this is not a drill

user3: girl you can't just drop this on us and bail 💀

user4: is this real or is this my ambien

user5: i see the saga of blurry pictures continues

↳ user6: it's a vibe, you hater 😤

user7: omg is this the song realoffonoff played on his live the other day??

user8: who is this and why is it not me 😩

user9: she destroyed everyone on Don Mills Daebak remix just to turn around and do cute rnb songs 😭 queen shit 👑👑

oscarpiastri: can't wait ❤️ liked by yntheone

↳ yntheone: ❤️❤️ ↳ user10: the last person I expected to see here ↳ user11: 🤨🤨 well that's suspicious

user12: You need to do an entire album with realoffonoff !! Cigarette was amazing 😍

↳ user13: oh my godddd do you think cigarette was about the same guy? ↳ user14: definitely ?? i mean how can you listen to yntheone sing she wants you to be addicted to her like cigarettes and go "nah I'll pass" ?? brain damage ahh behaviour

yntheone tagged oscarpiastri in a post:

Do you really think you're that good??

(He is.)

Comments:

user15: babe wake up new roman empire just dropped

user16: not the caption 💀💀 quoting herself like the queen she is

↳ user17: giving trainees war flashbacks lmao

user18: he better know how to fight 😤😤 im throwing hands

user19: this can't be the same person who tore apart trainees on live tv 😐 since when is she all lovey dovey

↳ user20: if you had Oscar Piastri smiling at you, you'd be lovey dovey too

user21: out of all the people I suspected to be the guy from a blurry picture, this man wasn't even on the list ??? there's opposites and then there's THIS

↳ user22: ya I'm genuinely surprised someone as calm as him can keep up with her ↳ user23: yall are forgetting he's keeping up with Lando Norris

oscarpiastri: I really am liked by yntheone

landonorris: he's not as good as me but I guess he's still kind of ok

↳ danielricciardo: you might want to rethink that mate ↳ landonorris: blocked

user24: I'll just assume every love song she's done has been about him

↳ user25: Cigarette?? Moon?? Photograph?? Make the Move?? He better know the poetry that she's written about him or he gon catch these hands ↳ oscarpiastri: I do know and I appreciate every word

user25: finally Mclaren found someone who can actually pull off the papaya and not look silly

user26: yntheone is taken?? worst day of my life tbh

user27: imagine all the contestants on survival shows that will come in mclaren merch 💀💀 we're about to unlock a new level of embarrassment that shouldn't be possible

user28: this is the best golden retriever black cat couple, everyone else can go home

user29: for his own sake, I hope he knows what he's gotten himself into 😩😩

↳ user30: no better racing motivation than remembering your girlfriend is famous for roasting people in front of the entire nation

f1fans_official made a new post:

oscarpiastri and yntheone on their little New York trip 🥺🥺

Comments:

user31: yes I watch f1 for the rivalry and driving

↳ user32: these two are the main plot

user33: am I the only one bothered by the fact that she's a rude bitch??

↳ user34: yes sis you're the only one who can't tell between a rude bitch and a professional realistically evaluating wanna-be artists

user35: no thoughts head empty thinking about my favourite paddock couple

user36: i can't even be mad she's taken my man 😞😞 they look cute together

user37: hope they don't break up I can't take going through my parents' divorce twice

user38: if Lando and yntheone become friends we're going to see the most iconic duo of all time

↳ user39: the Lando slander is about to get serious 💀 ↳ user40: Oscar is gonna be bald by the end of the year because of them lmao

oscarpiastri tagged yntheone in a post:

Resting and recharging before the next race weekend

Comments:

user41: it's giving he asked for no pickles

yntheone: no need to thank me, I know I'm the only thing you need 😴 liked by oscarpiastri

↳ oscarpiastri: wouldn't have it any other way ❤️

user42: forget guard dog boyfriend, Oscar's got a guard dog girlfriend and I'm here for it

↳ user44: feminism

landonorris: guys help me she's scary

↳ yntheone: I know where you live 🥰🥰 ↳ oscarpiastri: yntheone I'll hold your bag baby ↳ user43: forget the office this is the sitcom i'd watch ↳ georgerussell63: the bigger the distance from angry yntheone the funnier it is

user45: honestly why would he go for a manly rude bitch?? there are so many better women out there, just sad

↳ user46: have you considered the fact that men are not a monolith and have, in fact, individual preferences? or is your IQ too low to comprehend that?

user47: I will tell my children this is the royal pair

user48: can't wait for her the sample Oscar and add him to a beat 🔥🔥

user49: ok now I get why she wrote absolute bangers about him 😍

user50: if she's in the stands cheering him on, FIA should give Oscar a penalty for unfair advantage 😤😤

[garciaasfluffypen]

comfort me please (it's all i need)

pairing: jemily x reader word count: 1.9k warnings: sub drop, reader feels unappreciated for a bit (not the whole time i promise), this could be classified as reader having a small crash out if you squint

you were tired. you were tired, the first one home, the apartment was messy and you were tired. logically, the apartment was as clean as it could have been after being called in during an impromptu girls night. but there was stuff strewn everywhere and it was bothering your brain. you hated when your brain made you feel like everything was messy and nothing was perfect. there were ways for you to cope with it, yes, but sometimes they didn’t work and you started to feel like only you were the one doing everything. 

which is how you currently felt. 

emily and jj stayed behind to finish the last of the paperwork, leaving tara to drop you off at home since you didn’t want to wait. she had offered to come inside with you but you had declined, just wanting to go and curl up in bed. what you didn’t expect was for your brain to automatically be repulsed at the state of the living room as it proudly showed off the remnants of saturday night. with an annoyed sigh, you dropped your go bag in the front hall, giving yourself approximately one minute to throw a small temper tantrum before you went to the front closet where you kept all the cleaning supplies. you zoomed around the apartment, leaving trash bags in your wake as the cleaning commenced. in the midst of emptying the dishwasher you realized you were thirsty and that there was old leftovers in the fridge so of course that had to be emptied. and just as you suspected… they were emily’s leftovers. with an angry sigh, you threw them in the garbage and continued your cleaning spree. 

meanwhile, emily and jj had pulled into the parking lot and were making their way up the drive, watching you pacing around through the window. emily had to hold back a chuckle at how animated you were being, flailing your arms around and screaming to the man on the tv who was playing some sort of horror game. emily and jj both jumped at the metal puppet looking thing that popped up on the screen, which you didn’t react to at all.

emily and jj stood in the foyer as you angrily paced to the closet, barely registering the two of them standing there in your… whatever was happening. they hadn’t seen you like this ever, and it was concerning to them. that’s how you felt? they shared a look as you walked by them again with the little green machine that you had gotten for christmas in your hand, placing it down and throwing the power cord in the direction of one of the many outlets. mumbling to yourself, you got down on your hands and knees to assess the damage, still unaware that your girlfriends were watching you pace around the apartment like a mad person. you walked over to the kitchen to grab the carpet cleaner, crouching down under the sink. emily and jj shared another look, trying to figure out if they should interrupt your tangent or not. 

jj squeezed emily’s hand, grabbing your go bag as well as her’s and emily’s, quietly slipping into the laundry room as emily continued to watch you. there were a few options that ran through her head about what she could do, and none of them were ideal. all of them ended with you freaking out because your routine was messed up and considering it was late at night, you would probably end up breaking down. you had gone a while without having a break down, but emily knew your meds had to have worn off by now and there was no way she would be able to get through to you without causing a catastrophic reaction due to the way you felt. you had been cleaning since you had gotten home, and the tracking app the three of you shared stated that you got home around 1am. you had to have been tired, considering the team had been up since 6am the morning prior. if jj squinted, she could see the tiredness in your eyes. she didn’t want you to, but she had a feeling if they didn’t stop you that you would ultimately end up pulling an all nighter.

finally, emily sighed and cleared her throat. 

“holy fuck-!” you jumped, dropping the spout of the green machine. “how long have you- how much of that did you see?” 

“enough to know you’re upset. lovey, you could have told us you felt like that.” 

you shook your head. “no.” 

“you need to communicate with us” jj piped in. “we can’t help you if you don’t talk to us.” 

“no.” you stared back at them, hints of your brat side starting to show in the flecks of your eyes. you moved past emily, putting the little green machine back in the closet. “i’m not done cleaning.” 

you walked back past your girlfriends, heading to grab the trash bag on the coffee table. jj and emily watched as you stumbled a bit, pausing a second before continuing to clean. doing some math, jj realized that it had been almost two days since you had taken your adhd meds. of course, the adhd rage was kicking in at one of the worst times possible- when you were tired. from what jj remembered, it was harder for you to regulate your emotions when you were tired and it typically left you drained more often than not. you were pushing yourself, it was obvious to her. emily kept an eye on you as you started to loose your steam, waiting for a break to say something.

“it’s almost four in the morning.”

“‘m not tired. i just need to sit for a second.” 

“you need to sleep.” 

“i’ll sleep when i’m done.”

you blinked a couple times, realizing how tired you actually were. the trash bag you were holding slipped from your hands as you fell onto the couch, the fatigue and events of the past week catching up to you. you rubbed at your eyes, forcing the tired feeling back as you pushed yourself up, holding onto the arm of the couch before you continued to pick up the trash. 

“my love-”

“i’m fine!” you snapped, staring at them. “everything’s fine. go to bed. i’ll come when i’m done. the living room needs to be clean. nobody took care of it so i’m taking care of it, it’s fine. just go to bed.”

“darling.” you locked eyes with jj, the look in her eyes the only thing you could focus on. “eyes on me. the living room is clean. give me the bag, we’re going to bed.”

within seconds emily realized what was happening as you started to bend to jj’s will, and it hit her. you had been going for so long, taking care of those around you that you hadn’t had time to care for yourself. between almost back to back cases, date nights with them and spending time with your brothers, you barely had any time to yourself. you hadn’t been able to sit back, relax and turn everything off. you were burning out. 

jj realized this at the exact same time as she pulled you into her arms, rubbing a hand up and down your back in a comforting manner. you wrapped yourself around jj’s midsection, clinging to her as your sub drop became more and more noticeable to your girlfriends. this wasn’t the first time they had witnessed one per se, but it was the first one they’ve witnessed in the absence of sex. you let the tiredness take over as she caressed you, your head falling into the crook of her neck as the tears that sometimes happened when you pushed yourself too far started to fall. 

“shh, darling it’s okay. we’ll get you to bed, come on.”

“shower?”

“when you wake up, okay?” jj ran a hand through your hair. “you’ve been up for almost two days. we need to get you to bed baby.”  

“‘m dirty. feel my hands.” 

it took jj a second to realize what you were saying. “you can feel your hands?” you nodded. “lets get you to the bathroom then, come on baby.” 

jj picked you up with ease and led you into the bathroom, emily following close behind as she went into the bedroom to get everything ready. jj went to put you down, but you were holding on to her so tight that it was practically impossible for her to set you down. she grabbed a washcloth instead, leaning so you were hovering above the counter in case you decided to let go. you sniffled a bit as she started to move the washcloth across your face, wiping off the makeup that had run down your face. you leaned into her touch, your arms slowly dropping as she continued to wipe you off with the washcloth. your eyes slowly fluttered as you attempted to keep them open, the tenderness of the situation on top of your tiredness truly taking a toll on you. 

you weren’t used to people taking care of you in this capacity. it had been so long since you had been cared for in a way that wasn’t people using you just because it was fun. you weren’t sure what exactly was happening in your brain, but you knew you felt loved and safe. something a partner hasn’t made you feel in a long time. you vaguely heard the door open and someone slip into the room, but you were too tired to try and figure out who was there. 

emily walked over to you two, rubbing a hand up and down your back as she whispered to jj. 

“i just talked to hotch, he said only one of us has to come in tomorrow so one of us can stay here with y/n. he’s the only other person to my knowledge who’s ever seen them like this.”

“not even garcia?”

“no.” emily shook her head. “from what he told me, they work really hard to make sure nobody on the team sees them like this. its why they get more time off than the rest of us.”

“reasonable accommodations.” jj nodded in understanding. “okay we got to get them to bed.”

“everything is ready, i have their pajamas here.” 

emily helped jj maneuver you so they could get your jammies on, switching you over to emily’s arms so jj could go get you some water and your morning medication. emily pulled you into bed with her, wrapping her arms around you as you snuggled into her. 

“fank you.” 

“for what, baby?” emily looked down at you as she scratched your back, resting her chin on top of your head.

“takin’ care of me.” you shuffled closer to emily. “lotsa… don’t wanna.” 

“you want to be told what to do sometimes,” emily started. “you haven’t had people who understood that like jay and i do.” 

your head turned as much as it could in your half asleep state to face emily. “i jus.. wanna be cared for.” 

“and we care for you, so much.” 

“more than that.” you mumbled. 

“then what do you want?”

“i dunno.” you curled into emily’s chest. “‘m sleepy.”

“go to sleep, lovey. we’ll be here for you in the morning.” 

“mm okay emmy. i love you.” 

emily blinked a few times as she registered what you said to her, watching you as you finally fell asleep. she’d definitely have to unpack this.

tomorrow. 

it was definitely a tomorrow problem.

taglist: @jayden-prentiss @idkwhatever580 @multifandomlesbianic @softestqueeen

[fellominaarcher]

talking for the moment we live in - NINGNING X FEM!READER

⤹ Fic type: Oneshot

⤹ Content warning: FLUFF

⤹ Trope/pairing: Best friends to lovers

⤹ main m.list | æspa m.list

Y/N and Ningning had been best friends since middle school. Their friendship sparked one ordinary Monday morning, the kind where you show up to class, awkward and tired, only to realize there are zero empty seats.

Y/N had scanned the room like a lost puppy, each desk either occupied or “reserved” by backpacks, jackets, or straight-up glares. Panic slowly creeping in, she walked toward the only free chair she could find—one tucked near the back by the door.

The girl next to it had her head down, clearly asleep, with long dark hair cascading like curtains over her face. Y/N hesitated, cleared her throat quietly, and asked, “Um… excuse me, Yizhuo? Is anyone sitting here?”

The girl stirred. Slowly, Ning Yizhuo lifted her head and blinked at Y/N like a confused baby owl. It took her a moment, but then she lit up.

“Oh? OH! No, no one's sitting here. You can sit,” she said, brushing her hair back and sitting up straighter.

And just like that, Y/N found her seat and her best friend.

From then on, things escalated quickly. They were instant chaos together. Talking through lectures, singing during class breaks (and sometimes even while the teacher was still talking), and developing the kind of bond that made other classmates raise an eyebrow or two.

Y/N and Yizhuo also earned some shushes too.

That was also the start of something Y/N wasn’t prepared for: feelings. Big, inconvenient, fluttery feelings for her best friend, Ning Yizhuo, who preferred to be called Ningning.

Fast forward to the present. Y/N’s parents were heading out of town for three days, and like the concerned, nosy parents they were, they suggested—read: insisted—she invite Ningning over for a sleepover.

“You won’t be lonely,” her mom had said, already dialing Ningning’s number. Y/N barely had a say in it, but let’s be honest, she didn’t really need one.

Night one? Peak madness. The two of them were in full crazy mode. Singing their hearts out like they were performing for a Grammy, dancing in Y/N’s mom’s dresses (some of which were definitely from the '90s), and attempting to cook—key word: attempting.

Spoiler alert: the kitchen looked like a scene out of a disaster movie.

Now it was nighttime. Y/N and Ningning were sprawled across the couch, a bowl of popcorn between them, watching Scary Movie 1. A classic, ridiculous masterpiece. They were laughing so hard they could barely breathe.

"This movie is so stupid," Ningning wheezed, wiping tears from her eyes.

"It's perfect," Y/N grinned, tossing a piece of popcorn at her.

As the movie rolled on, something shifted. Y/N's laughter slowly died down, not because the movie got boring but because her eyes had accidentally wandered.

Right to Ningning's face.

She was still giggling, cheeks flushed, eyes squinting from laughter. Her smile was radiant, that kind of smile that made Y/N’s heart flutter and her brain shut down entirely. Her hair was a little messy, her face glowing under the TV light, and...

Y/N blinked.

Why am I staring? she thought, snapping her gaze away in a panic. But the damage was done. Her heart was already pounding way too fast for something totally innocent.

Totally. Innocent. Right?

(Y/N wasn’t so sure anymore.)

The movie continued playing, wild slapstick chaos unfolding on the screen—but Y/N had completely checked out.

She wasn’t watching anymore.

The Scary Movie wasn’t scary. Not even funny. Not because it had lost its touch but because Y/N's brain had gone full spiral mode. Her attention was fully hijacked… by Ningning.

Just a moment ago, she’d been laughing along. And then her eyes flicked to her best friend’s face, just for a second.

Big mistake.

Because now? Fireworks. In her chest.

Everything about Ningning suddenly felt so loud. Her laughter. Her soft, dimpled smile. The way her hair framed her face. The way her pinky had brushed against Y/N’s when they both reached into the popcorn bowl at the same time.

God. What is wrong with me?

She couldn’t even hear the movie anymore, just the white noise of her own thoughts, looping on an endless reel of what ifs.

Could she keep this forever? Just… quietly crushing? Secretly loving her best friend from two inches away for the rest of her life?

Or worse, would this little crush disappear over time? Fade into nothing?

No. That thought hurt even more.

But confessing? That was definitely not an option. That would be a disaster of epic proportions. Ningning didn’t feel the same way. There was no way. And Y/N would never risk ruining the one thing that mattered most: their friendship.

She had to keep it inside. Lock it in a box. Throw it in the ocean. Never speak of it again. She was so deep in her emotional wormhole that she didn’t even notice Ningning talking until...

“Y/N.”

Y/N jolted a little, blinking hard. “Huh? Yeah, Ning?” Then her eyes were wide and she was trying to appear normal.

Ningning’s voice was casual, teasing. “I said… am I that pretty?”

Y/N’s soul momentarily left her body.

Did she, did she just get caught? Caught staring?

Y/N’s ears turned bright red. Suddenly, the random throw pillows on the couch were the most fascinating things she’d ever seen.

“What?” she laughed awkwardly, trying to sound unaffected. “The hell are you talking about?” Y/N tried to deflect with those disconnected and awkward laugh.

Ningning chuckled, shooting her a side glance before turning her eyes back to the screen. She clicked her tongue and patted the cushion in her lap.

“Come on,” she said playfully. “You were staring at me like I'm the prettiest star. Be honest. Is it the cheekbones?”

Y/N buried her face in her hands. “I’m gonna die.” She was dying to completely run away from her best friend's teasing gaze.

“You’re gonna die cute, though.”

Before Y/N could come up with a witty comeback, Ningning suddenly shifted, twisting on the couch to face her directly. Her face was close. Way too close. Y/N instinctively leaned back, heart thundering in her chest.

“Now’s your chance,” Ningning whispered dramatically. “Go ahead. Stare at my face properly. Since you’ve been sneaking glances all night.”

“I-I was not—”

“Shhh,” Ningning leaned in closer, grinning like a smug cat cornering its prey. “Don’t cut out the fun. You weren’t watching the movie anyway.”

Y/N, very dramatically, clutched a pillow to her chest and squeaked, “I will literally dive off this couch.” It felt like her heart was about to burst out of her chest.

“Come on, Y/N,” Ningning said softly, “you really think I didn’t notice?”

Y/N blinked, stunned.

“I’m not just talking about tonight. I’ve seen the way you look at me. The way your eyes follow me when I take notes, when I talk to you, when I talk to others…” Ningning tilted her head, gaze soft. “You look at me like I’m magic.”

Y/N’s entire world felt like it was crashing and floating at the same time.

“And you know what?” Ningning leaned in and gently pecked the tip of Y/N’s nose.

“I like it. So much.” The Chinese girl clarified, subtle but it spoke of something loud.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “You-what?!”

But Ningning didn’t stop. She leaned in again, this time pressing a soft, tender kiss to Y/N’s lips. It was quick, just a flutter of something real and electrifying, but enough to leave Y/N breathless.

When Ningning pulled back, she had a playful smile on her lips and her voice dropped just a little softer.

“So,” she said, “only look at me that way, okay? I don’t want you looking at other girls like that. Only me.” Ningning was quick to claim her place by Y/N's side.

Y/N, still frozen, blinked once. Then twice.

And finally croaked out, “Well. That’s… unfair.”

Ningning raised a brow, amused. “How so?”

“Because now I’m definitely gonna keep staring.”

“Good,” Ningning giggled, leaning her head against Y/N’s shoulder like nothing had just happened. “Now shut up and let’s finish the movie before I make out with you for the whole night.” This girl is gonna be the death of Y/N.

“...You’re the scary part.”

“You wish.”

main m.list | æspa m.list

[hischokehold]

does konig fuck bunny in those skirts???

Love your writing 💮😖🎀

like a 90s movie.

König's favorite pastime is to bend bunny over his desk and pound her pussy raw. It's therapeutic to him, having a soft fluffy thing on one's lap should be on the list or essentials for every colonel— soldier, if they can afford one. Hybrid wives are a luxury, after all.

Lately, you've developed a bit of a habit. Running along his office in the afternoon with hastily made sandwiches and orange juice in your tiny hands, acting like a proper woman all while pampering him with kisses and lathering your scent on his neck.

You've become territorial, leaving violet and blue hickeys in your wake. Bunny bites, as he liked to call it. Your little fangs were sweet, though useless, barely doing the damage you thought you were inflicting. Instead, he wore them as a badge of honor. A symbol of his woman's love.

"Naughty thing." He tuts, cupping your ass through your adorable pastel blue miniskirt that you begged him to buy last week, along with a myriad of things. You were teasing him, he was sure. You knew how much he loved how your legs looked in those slutty skirts, a stark contrast to your innocent eyes.

He suspects those movies you've been watching on the TV have influenced your recent behavior. You had a thing for those old school 90s DVD's that he kept on his shelves.

Carefully, you weasel your way out of his arms, beaming as he takes a bite of the sandwich. It made your heart feel prideful. You weren't so useless now, you could help him, help your savior!

Gently, he pats your twitching ears, paperwork all forgotten. "You made this all for me, hase?" To which you answer with a satisfied hum as his rough hands travel to the small of your back.

"Oh," you squeal, instinctively raising your perky ass into the air, little knees bending in pleasure, bunny tail twitching directly on his face. You lift your head from the desk, soft hair a little disheveled, cheeks flushed from his intimate touch. "D-Do you like it?"

König found it funny how you were trying to maintain your composure, as if you weren't flashing him, chubby bunny cunt soaking those flimsy panties. "Hm? I'm not sure as to what you're implying, bunny." He slyly licks his lips, teasingly swiping his index finger against your clit, making you jolt. "The sandwich? Or the delectable view?"

In typical bunny fashion, your brain completely blanks in the face of pleasure, pretty eyes almost going cross-eyed. It takes a little while before your cheeks heat up with embarrassment, processing the situation. You came here to help your owner, to show him that you were a big girl, but now you were just moaning like a common whore from a single touch.

"Sandwich, daddy. Sandwich." You manage to blurt out.

"Oh that," he responds rather nonchalantly. "We can get to that later. I see something far more enticing in front of me right now." He easily yanks your panties to the side, raw, dripping pussy in full view, earning a deep guttural growl from the man.

It's not long before he's slurping on your poor cunt like a madman, long tongue darting in and out of your fuckhole. "Scheiße, moaning like a bitch in heat." A heavy slap lands on your ass cheeks when you begin to fight back, kicking his torso, overwhelmed from his assault. "You forgetting who's in charge here, huh? You should be thankful," Slap! Slap!

"I bought this pussy, little girl. I own it." A harsh slap to your pussy makes you jolt in fear, tears streaming down your eyes. "If not for me, you would've been underground in the auction, whored out and kept a breeding mare for every man out there." You brace yourself for the next smack, only for König to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, as if sensing your fear.

His fat cock flung out of his trousers, the sheer weight causing it to hang down. You stuck your tongue out greedily, manly musky scent slowly filling your lungs, making you revert to your primal instincts. Gotta breed!

"Please," you hiccup, pleading for a sliver of his attention. "Please, daddy!"

His darkened baby blues engulf your very being as he turns his gaze towards you, inching his middle and index finger down your throat, using your spit as lube. "What, pet?"

"Please," you sob. "Please kiss me while you put it in!" The naiveness and the desperation in your voice makes the man laugh at your face, condescendingly patting your wet cheeks.

His rough hands cup the sides of your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. "Open up." He takes a good look at that slutty face before letting his saliva drip in your mouth. There's this fucked out look in your face as he forcibly shuts your mouth. "Swallow." He licks a messy, messy stripe from your cheeks to your pliant lips, coercing you to take his tongue.

You barely have any time to react as his bulbous cock prods your tight hole open, the stretch so painful yet so, so, so delicious. What was originally supposed to be a short office visit quickly turned into a pound fest; your pretty face locked between your daddy's biceps, bunny ears pulled back as his right hand played with your tongue, broad hips pounding against your ass while he brutalizes your raw pussy.

"Why're you crying, baby, huh?" He mocks your weepy face, and you swore you could feel his laugh vibrating in your tummy. "I know you like this." Slap! "Don't you love being used by daddy, huh?"

"I like it! I like it!" A tiny girl like you couldn't even dream of escaping, with a man like your owner holding her down. All you could do was lay there and take it. You were a big girl, after all, right?

"Then you better suck up those tears and smile, Hase. After all, you're the one who decided to wear such a slutty skirt. If you didn't wanna be treated like a slut, then you shouldn't have dressed like one. Mark these words in that tiny head, bun. Daddy knows best."

authors note:

A quick little story for you sweethearts 💓hope you enjoyed because I had a hellish time writing this😭 my first draft got completely scrapped by Tumblr. Thank you for the sweet messages and to my anons who told me to prioritize my health, I greatly appreciate it 🌷 this request has been rotting away in my inbox for about two months now. So excited to finally be getting back at it again.

[sp0o0kylights]

Steves always felt stuck. 

Slightly out of place, like a character that was supposed to be killed off, but was kept alive instead. 

Adrift with no friends and a family thats absent, Steve wastes most his life working a retro video store in a dying mall. 

Nothing feels real. Has felt real, ever since a party he threw in high school got wildly out of hand. 

Until some guy named Eddie shows up.

Eddie, who slaps down a copy of some former major TV show everyone used to binge.

Eddie, with his wild hair and wilder eyes and an outfit that looks like he himself came out of the stupid 80s show.

Eddie, who worms his way into Steves heart, the only bright spark of his day, and who no one else seems to be able to see.

It's easy to ignore at first. Easy for Steve to dismiss the weird looks and quiet questions--especially when Eddie flirts like he does. 

Kisses up Steves neck in the work closet, whispering assurances that they can be quick. 

Its a little harder when his concussions are brought up. His brain damage diagnosis thrown at him.

That it's his fault that girl drowned. It's his fault he sacrificed her to save himself, even if the lack of oxygen is the entire reason he's different now…

Steve is certain Eddies not a hallucination, or some kind of--imaginary friend.

So sure hes furious with it when confronted--until that night. 

When Eddie sits Steve down and informs him no one else can see him because he is from the stupid tv show.

And so is Steve.

In fact it's not a tv show, its reality and Steve is caught in Vecna's evil mindtrap--except his very real brain damage caused things to go a little differently.

Steves trapped apparently, and El has sent Eddie to go get him--and Steve wants so badly to believe it.

That he's not this lonely. 

That this--dull, friendless, family-less life he's barely living, is the fake one. 

Except….

“So how do I wake up then?”

“That's the hard part, Stevie.” Eddie tells him, thumb running soothing little circles on overheated skin. El thinks you need to drown--just like Barb did.” 

[lurkerdemon]

“Damian? Dami?”

Danny poked his head in through the door of the one of many living rooms in the manor. The lights above were off, but a few other fixtures had been positioned to cut jagged beams across the floor. The overall result left the back wall in a curtain of angular shadow. Only one shaded lamp broke it up, the small illuminated circumference revealing part of the desk it sat on and the chair behind it.

A chair in which Damian swiveled around to face him, visage dramatically lit from beneath.

“Daniel.”

“Danny.” The response was automatic, absentminded, and quiet as he stepped fully into the room. This certainly wasn’t what he was expecting.

“I saw the note. About borrowing one of my models? Sooooo, think I can get it back now?”

“Of course Danny.” His model spaceship was slid in front of the dim glow on the desktop. “I’m grateful to you for letting me borrow it. It is very well made indeed.”

“Cool. Coooolllll. Then don’t mind me while I just-” He tentatively approached one step closer.

“So well made in fact that I thought I would make a proposition.”

Danny’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline, but Damian pressed on before he could manage a response.

“I recently came into possession of certain… items, that I believe would be of great interest to you.”

A box was slid into view of the lamplight this time. Danny audibly gasped when his mind processed the brand and model number in prominent display.

“How did you get the newest satellite model already!? They’ve been sold out everywhere!”

“I have my ways Danny. And it could be yours if you so choose.”

It took great effort for Danny to tear his eyes away from the box and back to Damian, half-alive brain working just enough to still be suspicious.

“...Alright then. What kind of deal are you looking for? Free sneak out of the manor? Help with pranking someone? Messing with B’s stuff-”

“I think you know exactly what I want Danny.”

The response was a weary sigh. “Dami, we talked about this. I know you take good care of your pets but-”

“You keep Cujo as a pet, and he’s capable of far more damage than a blob-ghost.”

“Yes, but I also trust Cujo to know how to go home through a portal on his own. I don’t wanna risk one sticking around where it shouldn’t.”

Damian turned his chin-up further in defiance, gaze steady as another box slid into view.

“I know you have your reasons Danny. But are you certain there’s nothing I can do to convince you?”

Danny sucked in a breath. “How? Where?”

“Unimportant. What is important is whether you think this ordeal is really worth the trouble over concern for a creature that would be looked after with the utmost attention in the first place.”

He bit the inside of his lip, holding back the urge to float over and stare at the impossibly rare model kits. This was fine. He didn’t need to have them. They definitely weren’t on his wishlist for months before they had even been listed for purchase online.

“Dami. Please.”

Danny stared at Damian. Damian stared at Danny. The two held eye contact for several seconds before Damian finally looked away with a pout. Danny tried to give a placating smile in return as he approached the other boy and ruffled his hair.

“Come on baby bat. We can go take over the TV and watch something.”

Damian sniffed. “Fine. I guess it’s just a shame that I’ll have to return this.”

There was a burst of white light as Damian turned the tablet in his hands to show the order page it displayed to Danny. He felt his eyes bulge, mouth clicking open and shut several times as he tried to form a coherent thought.

……

Bruce wouldn’t notice just one blob-ghost would he?

=======

@breannasfluff boop.

I tried.

Also lost track of the initial prompt list that sparked this.

And probably shouldn't have chosen to write this so close to when I go to bed.

AND probably should have double checked how to properly format text around dialogue.

[sageshouldknowbetter]

So… what are those weird “twin” beings?

In my opinion, one of the terrifying parts of Severance S2E4 was when those Mandela Catalog analog horror-type… things showed up to point the way for the refiners. (This whole episode seems to be pretty inspired by analog horror. I was half-convinced that at the beginning, Mr. Milchick was going to turn into a distorted police sketch captioned “The Milker 😈😱” or something.)

So… what’s their deal? I’m going to explain why I believe they’re not clones, actors, or robots… but something else altogether.

First, they don’t have coats. The twins are outside in an extremely cold climate, standing there for who knows how long, and they don’t. Have. Coats.

If they were really clones (or even hired actors), wouldn’t they need to be warm too? Why would Lumon risk damaging what they undoubtedly worked so hard on (or popsicle-ifying an employee) by dropping them in a freezing climate with no protection?

Some clone truthers would argue that maybe the clones can’t feel pain or sensations yet. They’re not finished: maybe fixing their brains is what MDR is working on. But I find the idea that they are somehow super-resistant to weather a bit harder to swallow. And while the innies are at least smart enough to avoid danger and seek safety, a clone unable to feel pain and with a half-formed brain would have no self-preservation instinct. They might be curious about what happens when they insert a stick between their ribs or go cheerfully gallivanting off a cliff like some kind of suicidal Roomba. Boom. Millions of dollars down the drain.

And there’s another thing they don’t have: footprints. Lumon-hired actors have footprints. Robots have footprints. Clones would have footprints. But the doppelgängers… don’t.

For the clear shots of shadow Helly and shadow Mark, we just see them appear with no tracks to show how they got there. We don’t even hear boots crunching in snow. The only explanations are a) Lumon somehow shot them up to the surface on a Hunger Games-style platform (implying that the ORTBO wasn’t actually outside), b) they got some poor guy (probably Milchick) to hurriedly cover up the footprints as they made them for Maximum Creepy Effect, or c) whatever these things are, they’re not corporeal.

I’d vouch for the latter. Because no matter how dramatic Lumon is, I really don’t think they’d spend THAT egregious an amount of money for a bit of extra goosebumps.

So, then… what are they? I’d say some kind of hologram or Lumon-approved hallucination.

I don’t think the ORTBO actually took place outside. There are many reasons for this. The TV at the beginning and the theremin needed to be plugged into something, there was a large room on Petey’s map called “team-building,” Milchick’s walkie-talkie range would be too small, it’s too risky for Lumon to ask outies to shut off their brains for multiple days in the middle of nowhere… and Lumon wouldn’t actually let the innies outside. Not because it would be dangerous for them, necessarily — but because it would be dangerous for the company.

Lumon doesn’t actually need to take them outside. They don’t want to cause a potential PR scandal from the outies talking about the “work retreat” or risk one of them running away. All they need to do — the whole purpose of the ORTBO — is to make them think the outside world is a terrible place and never want to go there again. The cold is real. The hunger is real. The danger is real (to an extent). But the environment… is not real.

So they can project holograms. They can power the TV and theremin. Milchick can remove the Glasgow BLOCK (the term “block” implies Helly WOULD have usually appeared but was blocked from doing so, and the only place that could happen is the severed floor). They make some basic holograms clearly based on the MDR group picture and boot them up. They don’t need to be realistic. All that matters is the message gets across.

Now all that’s left to wonder is: if Mark and the team were surprised at this team-building, that implies that they’ve never done it before. So how did Petey find it and map it? And why was one of the twins behind Mark in S2E1? We might never know.

[astroboots]

Punch-Out Love

Artwork by @guruan

FIGHT NIGHT

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You're lucky enough to score ring-side seats at a boxing match on Friday night. Getting the best view in the house of boxing champion: Miguel O'Hara.

Word count: 1,500

Next Chapter

Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist 

You know fuck all about boxing.

About the only thing you know about the sport was from the glimpses you caught watching scratched up old recordings of Muhammed Ali fights on the boxy mini-tv of your old childhood friend's house.

It always seemed barbaric. The practice of watching two human beings beat the shit out of each other for spectator's entertainment. It seems like something that was better left in the Ancient Roman times. Have we all human beings as a society, really not come further some 2,000 years later?

Your bestie used to get mad at you for this. Constantly defending the sport from your criticism, because (according to him) it's not just about smashing each other's faces in. Supposedly, there's an art to the sport. Boxers are taught to respect their opponents and adhere to the principles of good sportsmanship. It takes great mental discipline, dedicated work and years of hard and punishing training to master boxing.

You never saw any of that in the matches he showed you. All you saw were two men needlessly being hurt, sustaining brain damage for rich people's enjoyment.

Then again, he was more than a little bit biased, considering it was his dream to go pro one day. Tall and gangly, with his scrawny antelope legs, thick-rimmed glasses and big-ass braces, he looked like he couldn't punch his way out of a paper bag, much less another person. You never understood how exactly he thought he was going to make it as a boxer.

But you never found it in you to burst his unrealistic bubble when he used to point at the screen excitedly, drawing your attention to Ali's footwork and the artistry in it. 

"It's like he's dancing," he used to say.

Except dancing is done with swelling music in the background. In dancing you often have a partner. It's an embrace. It's gentle and kind.

Boxing... was not that.

So you don't know how you managed to find yourself in the ringside seats of a local boxing match on a Friday evening, staring up at the boxing ring with the glaring ring lights shining into your eyes.

"Aren't these seats amazing?" Jess shouts excitedly over the familiar lyrics of ‘We Will Rock You' being belted out by Freddy Mercury on the loudspeaker.

You smile, and nod, because boxing-fan or not, she's right, these are some amazing seats. And considering you didn't have to pay a dime for them, personal aversions aside, you're never going to turn down free stuff.

Jess' husband tested positive for covid at the last minute, and you're the only one in your social circle that is anti-social and single enough to not have any plans on a Friday evening.

On the monitors above you, the menacing headshots of the two fighters swish into view.

"The first guy is an old reigning champ," she explains to you, as she leans in, shouting into your eardrums (and yet you can still barely make out what she's saying over the music). "The challenger is some new kid on the block. Has an amazing track record. Zero losses in the season. He's something else."

You look up at the gigantic screen, at the sharp cut cheeks, strong thick brows and the intense pitched brown eyes staring down at you.

Angry looking dude.

...Handsome too.

With a face like that, surely he could've gone into other careers. Calvin Klein model, movie star, or a news anchor. You wonder what makes a guy voluntarily have his face bashed in for money as a career.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a loud booming voice announces from the stage.

You jump in your seat from the suddenness, as you see a bald and overly formal dressed announcer in the middle of the ring. 

"Welcome to the electrifying boxing showdown of the century! Are you ready to witness some knockout action tonight?"

The crowd around you cheers with a pandemonium of shouting and whistling.

"Introducing our first fighter, a true hometown hero! With an impressive record of 20 wins, 15 by knockout, and only 2 losses, standing at 6'3 feet, and weighing in at 340 pounds of determination and strength, give it up for ‘the Knockout King’ Bobby Kane!"

You watch as the reigning champion walks down the tunnel to the midst of adoring cheers as he waves and gestures at the crowd like royalty.

Every inch the king that he is nicknamed, he jumps over the rope and stands tall and proud over the ring.

The man is huge, bulging with almost grotesque muscles. He's so large that you almost expect each of his steps to send a reverberation throughout the hall, as if this was Jurassic Park and he's a T-Rex.

"Now, entering the ring with the confidence of a warrior, fighting out of the red corner, with 15 wins, 10 by knockout, and no losses, standing at an astounding 6 feet 9 inches, and weighing in at 310 pounds of raw power, let's hear it for tonight's challenger, ‘Steel Jaw’ Miguel O'Hara!"

Wait what? You do a double take at the announcement. Six foot nine?!?! What kind of giant is that?

From the far corner of the hall, you see his silhouette emerge, and your eyes go wide at the sight of him. Tall doesn't even begin to describe him. 

There's a 200 year oak tree at Central Park, and with the shadow this man casts, you think their height must be nearly comparable. If you thought the Knockout King was tall, the "King" is practically tiny compared to this challenger.

You watch, as the man with cheeks so sharp they mind as well be blades (and god never has a nickname made more sense to you) as he strides towards the stage. He reaches the rope and barely even has to climb over it with how tall he is.

He's leaner than his predecessor. Every inch of him is cut muscles and tanned gorgeous skin as he stands in front of you. His presence is electric. The air crackles where he stands, towering over the stage.

You swear that his towering height blocks out the ring lights with it, casting the stage in the darkness of his tall shadow.

Somehow, he's even prettier in person compared to the still image of him blown up and plastered on the big screen. Soft brown curls and pouty lips. You don't understand in what world a man like that is a professional fighter.

From this distance, with the way that the light refracts from his irises, his eyes almost glow with a scarlet red that takes your breath away as you look up at him and meet his eyes.

If you didn't know better, you'd think he was staring at you.

The bell rings out, but he's not looking away. The intensity you find there is enough to make you swallow your tongue. Your face prickles with heat and for several long moments you forget to breathe, until the air seems to thin around you and your vision starts to swim.

Then he turns to face his opponent.

You're not quite sure where to look. There's so much happening at once. For his size, Miguel O'Hara is surprisingly deft on his feet. His footwork is somehow both unpredictable yet intentional all at once.

The King throws a strong punch, as he lunges forward, after his tall opponent. But O'Hara dodges them seemingly without effort. It's followed by punches so quick, the movements blur together.

Strike after strike. The King is giving it his all. But none of it properly connects. With every failed hit, you can see him growing increasingly more frustrated.

Your heart is in your lungs, and despite how close you are to the stage, you almost want to get up from your seat for a closer look.

Safe as you are behind the ropes, adrenaline rushes through your veins with a fury. You can't recall the last time you felt this ecstatic about... well, anything.

With each punch O’Hara dodges, you feel yourself lurch back in your seat, trying to dodge the punch with him.

It's titillating.

Exciting.

O'Hara's movements are precise and honed with intention despite the ferocity in his movements. Each one is measured and intricate and if you didn't know any better you'd almost call it graceful.

You think back to those moments in your childhood friend's home, and his excited words buzz in your ears now. For the first time ever you finally understand what he had meant.

It is like a dance.

Before you, O’Hara's eyes cross over in your direction and for a split of a second, you swear your eyes connect again. His gaze holds you there, pinned to your seat, and excitement shoots through the entirety of your spine until you feel lightheaded from the attention.

Then he finally steps forward, no longer evading.

It's brutal and efficient.

An uppercut that connects cleanly to his opponent's jaw.

Spit and blood flies out from the man's mouth, the flabby flesh of his cheek vibrating from the impact as he lands on the floor with an ear-shattering thud.

Then the guy is out.

Barely even eight minutes in. 

There's a stunned and shocked silence. The crowd seems both enthralled and disappointed at how fast it all went. On the ring floor, you can practically see the circle of cartoon birds flying above the defeated King's head.

You may not know anything about boxing, but you know that this man is not getting up anytime soon, no matter how far the referee counts.

Tearing your eyes away from the motionless body splayed out on the ground elevated above you, you can see the victor towering menacingly over the body.

But Miguel O'Hara isn't even looking at his defeated opponent

No, his eyes are staring straight into the sea of awestruck spectators. Except he’s not looking at them.

He's looking at you.

~ Next.

Author's note: What's that you say? CiCi wtf are you doing starting another series when you already got one going on? ... Idek man. But I hope you guys enjoy it, cause I had a blast writing it, smut will ensue in later chapters I promise!

Dedications and Credits: Buckle up it's gonna be a big one!

Firstly to @guruan when I say she's my muse THIS IS WHAT I MEAN! Look at that beautiful artwork. I am drooling into my panties. I am crying between my legs. I am so damn horny! I cannot thank this amazingly talented genius enough. Please please give this wonderful brilliant human your love by following her, and drop by her KO-FI SHOP cause the art this woman bless us with is UN-fucking-REAL

Then to @djarinsbeskar who put this idea into my head. In my mind she is the OG Boxer AU champion and mastermind. If you are in the mood for more boxing content, she has a wonderful, devastatingly sexy series Boxer!Din AU that is just woof woof bark bark.