#closing scenes though.... don't talk to me

[mtcloudsworld]

Can I please request a fic for Jason maybe how he would react to meeting a reader (black fem reader) who’s super confident so open about her attraction to him just out right saying he’s sexy/fine to their mutual friends idk I just need some Jason feeling wanted and knowing his feelings are reciprocated ❤️❤️❤️

𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐎 | j.todd x black fem reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 | I didn't give much description on the reader but it is black fem reader intended. I just got lost in the sauce is all lol. No warnings except that it's just fluff with some errors here and there probably. Just ignore them if you can.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁

Let's put a little spin on the block shall we?

I think in this case, Jason knows a little bit of you right? He knows just a portion of you because Roy talks about you like your next big thing. He finally gets to meet you at your best friend's birthday party. At first he was kinda on the outskirts like he usually is but when you come around, he'll admit, he sees what all the hype's about. Y'all hung out a few times after that. There have been some great conversations and what not, went as far as exchanging numbers and as of recently they've been noticing the shared glances, the smiles, jokes and what not.

And you're friends? Well... they're betting their money and a life time supply of ass kissing that something beautiful just might happen between you two.

Now Jason hasn't really put himself into the dating scene yet, now of course he's had a few crushes along the way but nothing too serious.

And as you sit back in the perimeter of his space, in this friendly medium size cafe, smelling the fresh scent of coffee beans and cologne, in the proximity of his warmth, with the sun beaming past his face, you gazed over that jaw dropping, god like face and into those baby blue eyes-- you can't help but to think: How could anyone NOT like him? How could he NOT have a girlfriend already?

The man is built-- massive, muscles and all. 6 ft something, prince charming material, top tier sense of humor, tempting, a whole ass meal, sensible, a gentleman, girl dinner, a lover, a protector, a man you'd let bend you over on the kitchen counter and fuck the living shit out of you--

I mean, the list could really go on and on and on and on honey

His behavior, personality and quirks were all so cute and attractive, and of course you haven't seen the night terrors or any scars he has to deal with, but trust and believe that's manageable. it's just enough to want you to get to know him on a deeper level.

⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜⏜︵♡︵⏜︵

As you watched him walk to retrieve yet another book, you couldn't help but release a soft sigh in bliss. "God he is so fine." Roy and your best friend roll their eyes, smiling from ear to ear as they give shared glances. They knew your interest was peeked, they also knew you've been wanting to shoot your shot for sometime now, but strangely, you haven't had the courage to do so. "Girl just go over there and talk to the man."

You give them a shy smile and shrug, "I don't want to seem weird though."

Your best friend chuckles, head shaking as she nudges her shoulder into yours, "I promise you won't. Trust me, go talk to him."

You sigh in defeat, giving a curt nod before standing to your feet and walking over to him. You weren't close by for him to sense your presence yet. However he caught a whiff of your scent lingering nearby, he has recognized it, studied it and memorized it all once before and you were the only person who wore this distinct fragrance. So, naturally, when you came closer, his attention turns to you. The sight of his eyes glowing in happiness and the smirk that rises to his lips makes your insides twist in relish. Feeling your cheeks burn and lips curl into a smile as you stand close by "So, whose your next victim?" You'd ask playfully looking down at the book in his hand with cluelessness and innocence pooling in your eyes.

⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜⏜︵♡︵⏜︵

And you? You're so beautiful. So, so beautiful. He could look at you for hours upon hours upon hours and could never get enough of you. The way your skin glowed in the sunlight was exquisite. The rich tone of your voice sent a sweet ring to his ears as he listened to you talk. Charming in every sense-- your charisma sent him blushing, every flirtatious comment and glare you sent his way made butterflies swarm in his stomach.

Your confidence was blunt. Bold in every way, inspiring and admirable. He found the things and the people you loved were drawn from deep passion. You were undeniably sweet, so sweet that it felt so unfamiliar to him. Your touch, gentle and warm, made a part of his shoulder or arm tingle with want and need.

He may look cool calm and collected on the outside but inside?

Baby that man's heart is punching against his ribcage 😭 his skin is hot and he's trying his damn hardest not to make a fool of himself.

And the way you say his name?!?! Uggggh, his heart, his poor little heart!

Effortlessly you've got this man wrapped around your tiny little finger. Your independence was attractive, the way you care for others wa tender and lovely. He liked how you thought about him constantly, your genuine care for him was sudden but expected, you never shy away from inviting him places, buying his favorite snacks and what not. Just, sigh, everything about you made him feel uplifted and seen.

But even when he's feeling all these emotions, and these little things are happening to spike his blood pressure, somewhere in the deepest part of his brain where insecurity dwells, he believes you're way out of his league.

⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜⏜︵♡︵⏜︵

Where Jason resides, he stood and observed from a distance you and your best friend chatting it up with a mutual coworker you hadn't seen in a minute. Undoubtedly it was a guy and Jason couldnt help but feel a little jealous??? couldn't help but feel like yeah, you're beautiful and single and have every right to talk and cheese all in another guy's face.

Yet, he couldn't shake this mixture of feelings that although he wants you all to himself, he feels he's not worthy enough to be something more for you. He doesn't feel worthy enough to have you when he does all these bad things-- living a double life.

He's basically stuck between a rock and hard place, and Roy can see it. His brows knitted in dissatisfaction, pondering his choices as he burned holes into the guy's head, but still, he glanced at you with tenderness.

"I don't think I'm good enough Roy, not even the slightest." He murmured, seated at the table across from his friend, playing with the red solo cup between his fingers. "If I told her what I was all about, I bet you she'll walk away-- I know she would."

"But you don't know that," Roy argued, gently. "You can't just assume the worst if nothing has happened yet."

"You say you're not good enough and that she may not like you, but you don't realize the most energy she gives you than any other person out there. She's drawn to you, Jason, more than you think. You're worthy of having a relationship, of being happy, of being loved... you're worthy of all of that. Stop saying you aren't because you are."

And fortunately, Roy was right. He was always right.

Because as Jason was left to his thoughts (Still hesitating and having a hard time believing it all). There was a moment when you noticed him all alone, pouting a little. Ditching the duo to approach him instead made his heart clench. You were all smiles, reaching for his hand and suggesting for them to take a walk.

He could never resist you, even if he tried.

⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜⏜︵♡︵⏜︵

He felt you could do so much better than him.

But you didn't want better, did you?

You didn't want anybody else.

You didn't have your eye on anybody else because you were too busy gawking at the physique and personality of a god who could have you folding in 2.5 seconds. You were starstruck, in awe and it was kinda hard to believe that Jason was oblivious to it all when you are so open and blunt about it.

Soooooo, what can you do? Hm?

What can you do to make this man understand that you are into him?

⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜⏜︵♡︵⏜︵

"Looks like you've got something on your mind."

You blink.

Your head turns to him, humming in response once you come back to your senses. In the middle of the dance floor, all alone now, held by the waist as you swayed slowly underneath the starry night sky, dim lighting from the hanging lights along the tent. You give him a close-lip smile in reassurance and shrug, adjusting your arms around his shoulders a little.

"I hope you're not bored of me."

"Pfft, bored?" You snicker amusingly. "you're anything but boring, Todd."

"You're never this quiet though."

He notices your mood switches, "...I know." You've grown quiet, hesitant as you avoid eye contact now.

Jason frowns. Eyes trained on, his hands squeeze at your hips for a second, grasping your attention again. His thumbs begin to caress at your sides soothing the nerves bubbling from within, admiring the giant before you.

"What's on your mind?" His voice grew curious. Yet you couldn't shake off the caring tone in his voice. Blue eyes swirl with need and want. He spoke with deep vibrato, placing you in a trance of encouragement for you to speak.

You hum, gaze diverted elsewhere as you ponder in thought. Your cheeks start to burn, then a chuckle and next a groan. A sudden burst of bashfulness on your face grows as you lean into his chest, attempting to cover the embarrassment all over your face.

A helpless groan is heard, "I don't wanna say..."

Jason gulps, clearing his throat at the action. Trying his hardest to not freak out as your face practically nestles into him. "No, c'mon what is it? Clearly it's bothering you if you're thinking so deeply about it." He says causally.

There was a silence, one that was filled with anticipation. And then there was a sigh, one of defeat and submission as you start to speak again. "Have you ever... liked someone so much you wish you could tell them without dying inside?"

"A little dramatic if I'm being honest but yeah... I've had my fair share of crushes in the past." He humors, gazing over you. "Why you ask?"

"I may...or may not have a crush on somebody." You say, hesitantly

"Hm. Whose the lucky bastard?"

Your gazes locked, and for a split second you thought he was joking. You thought that maybe he'd give you a playful smirk and say, "what? you didn't think I know?" But he doesn't do any of that. He's seriously asking who this crush of yours was.

So you toy with him murmuring, "I doubt you'd know anything about him."

"Hm," he shrugs, clueless. "A little background check wouldn't hurt none." He couldn't possibly be this oblivious but he was. It made you smile, endearingly. It honestly made you want to laugh because this was just sickly cute and silly of him to think it was anybody but him.

"it's you.. Jason."

The smile on his face slowly fades away, realization hitting him like a ton of bricks when h recollects your words.

"...what?"

"It's you. I have a crush on you Jason." You admit confidently this time. You slowly feel yourselves pull away, watching as his eyes grow slightly wide in shock, brows knitted in confusion. "I've liked you for a while now. Ever since we met I've always thought you were the most sexiest man I've ever laid eyes on." Your bluntness makes him blush along the tips of his ears to his cheeks. "You're a sweet man, Jay. I find it hard not to think about you daily. You make me feel happy, you make me feel acknowledged when you consider me." You sigh, "I just don't understand how a man like yourself don't have a girlfriend already. You're not ugly, you're far from that. You're a confident charmer, flirtatious even. Even when you say you don't mean to do so intentionally, it just comes out of you naturally. I love how sensible and caring, you are. I know that vulnerability can be hard for you because of your past but I can tell, you wanted to be needed at the end. I wanted more. Even the way you look at me its.ljke you're begging for me to stay a little longer, begging for me to be yours only, begging for a chance." His eyes flickered shut to the feeling of your hand cupping at his cheek, nestled in the palm of your hand as if he was a cat begging to be scratched. "I like every aspect of you, Jay," you say sweetly, your bodies drawing closer till there was no space between you two to fill. "I don't want to lose this feeling, this connection we have? I don't want it to go away." You whisper cupping his face now, you're foreheads meeting and hooded gazes locked now.

He doesn't say anything, and you frown.

"Jason? Please say something. Anything? I promise you I won't get upset if you don't feel the same. I know it's a little sudden, I get it, but I didn't know how else to tell--"

⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜⏜︵♡︵⏜︵

His lips smashed against yours that night, shutting up any doubts or hesitation you both might've had at that moment. While you were quick to submission and he was quick to need, your lips moved slowly yet eagerly, in tune with yours. His hands weren't hesitant to hold you close, wasn't hesitant to groan in the kiss as your finger tugged at his hair. Growing an obsession at the taste of each other, your both breathless, small moans are heard and internally his heart was fluttering to you clinging to him. You both didn't want to break the kiss. But you had to. You had to, unreluctantly catch your breath. Just in time to see heart eyes glare into yours, to see that smirk dance along his lips. You giggle, turning head to the side as you feel your cheeks burning again. His nose bumps into your cheek, strong arms deciding to wrap around you possessively as he kisses between your jaw and neck.

⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜⏜︵♡︵⏜︵

Later that night, you had called him to let him know you made it home safely. The call was supposed to be short and sweet but...

"I'm sorry that it took me so long to realize..."

You smiled as you placed the phone beside you, laying on your side as you close your eyes for a moment. You hum, "I think you were just hesitant, had a a difficult time believing it. You chose to ignore the signs because you felt you weren't good enough, which is not true."

"...Maybe." silence. "It's just strange to me, unfamiliar to hear someone say they want me."

"Well...I want you Jason, I really do." He could hear the smile on your voice as you spoke with such sweet softness. Admittedly he felt he could die in that moment, as he smirked down at the phone in his hand.

"Then...you can have me, all of me."

⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜⏜︵♡︵⏜︵

Let's just say in the end there was no keeping this boy away from you, he was head over heels for you. You gave him security, you gave him communication, the space to be vulnerable when he least expected it. He felt more spoiled than you did in the relationship and that was okay. He deserved every bit of it just as much as you did. It took some time to admit who he truly was, to understand why he worked so late and came to you with all kinds of wound and bruises. His past and trauma made sense. But it didn't make you view him any less of a boyfriend. Actually, it turned you on even more. It was more sexy to know you were dating a badass vigilante who gave two fucks about his reputation, but was willing to protect you at every cost.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 | sorry this took me a minute. I had soooo many ideas for this one and just couldn't choose what route to go on. Sorry if it's not what you wanted I completely understand.

Like, comment, reblog. Requests are open so if you have an idea you'd like me to write out, I'm all ears 😁

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 ©𝐦𝐭𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

[digitallovergirl]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ I HEARD PRETTY LOVE SONGS... J. GRACE x BAKER! READER

i'm still surprised of how well the reception on my comeback was, especially since I was high-key done with the fandom 😭.. but, I wanted to show my appreciation by making another! <3

YOU HUMMED, flipping the "open" sign over. As much as you like making pastries, you always treasured the shorter days. The ones with fewer customers and the lovely silence filled your ears. For a few months, you've been living your childhood dream—owning a (semi) successful bakery, living in a cute apartment in Rome, and of course, being with your boyfriend, Jason.

Despite the obvious and normal issues you'd had along the way, it would be correct to say you were content with how life was.

Up until this point, you would say Jason was happy too, but he seemed...more off lately. More closed off and secretive than before. At one point, you felt like a ghost in your own home. His avoidance of... you, hurt.

Today, your shortened work day sprung up an opportunity to try and talk to Jason. You wanted to chop it up to stress, but worry set in your mind. Insecurities and possibilities started to pill up, and the thought of what Jason could be hiding brought you to tears.

Taking a deep breath, you looked around before putting your ear to the front door. Nothing. The sound of your keys, though, caused whoever to seemingly panic—the sound of dropping pans filling your ears.

"Jason, if you're cheating on me, just..." Your footsteps stopped. Staring at the last thing you expected.

Jason, your boyfriend, was covered in baking powder. Almost all of the utensils you bought for baking covered the kitchen counter, and you could only stare at the shaken look on his face.

"Y-you're home early," Jason said, chest heaving and cheeks flushed red from whatever he just dropped.

You sighed, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "Jason, that's why you've been acting all weirdly secretive?" You asked, aware of the answer.

"Yeah—well, I thought it wasn't that noticeable—but I knew if I talked too much, all of this," He pointed at the crime scene he caused "Would come out."

"Wait, are you—"

You ignored his words, the powder over his apron that hid the words whatever frosts your cupcakes under it, and hugged him. You didn't even try to stop the tears from pooling out of your eyes, too overwhelmed with happiness to care.

You sniffled. "I love you, so much." Your grip on him loosened before you continued, "But please don't do this, like—ever again. I'd much rather you spoil a surprise than worry about what the secret is."

He slowly nodded, kissing your temple. "Noted. Though...You're still trying these cupcakes, right?"

You lifted your head. "Oh, of course. And you better hope they're good, or I'll suddenly feel too upset to help you clean."

[puckpocketed]

Ah yes hi hello! I have a bit of a ramble and some info about line dynamics in hrpf if you don't mind? I should probably get my research tgt and read and do a crazed metapost lol.

I don't have a lot of hockey technical sense yet (<- beginner in exam season who has a backlog to study and redearch, lol) but I do think hrpf deals with a lot of line dynamics but subconsciously. A lot of pairings aren't just based on history as the major part, but also on built-in assumptions of how the dynamic must be based on position, or interestingly, how it could've been for childhood friends.

Its not addressed very often though, it goes in as a sort of subconscious or if some is thinking about it, its a behind the scenes element, and it does not scales directly in proportion to fic size.

A lot of hockey pairings have trends where a lot of forward only pairings have to be lineys, or a couple's chemistry in a trade fic being reinforced by them being each other's liney and having the chem to be a good line. dmen/goalie pairings are rarer, as are forward/goalie pairings from my tag scrolling. They are a bit more varied but operate on a sense of protectiveness quite often. A la king/knight pairings almost.

Goalie/goalie operates on a sense of connection based on a game view and therefore worldview no one else gets, but authors don't incorporate it intentionally too often, as far as they say in notes atleast. D-partners are very very close devotional pairings usually, and as such every position pairings has a set of assumptions it comes with, an almost internalised intuition for the average hockey rpf writer.

Essentially, in hrpf, if you go deep, the line mate is sacred. They are delegated to a special status that often creates pairings but also have been relegated to a dynamic that is not in competition with the ship itself if the other player isnt a liney, because it's absolutely sacred friendship/connection/whst ever. It is often explored in longer fics or ones with certain premises, and the space loves the dynamics but doesn't always address it actively outside of certain premises, aus, and fic types (like trade fics + variants, soulmates, or character studies.)

you'll find these trends more with certain pairings and certain draft classes/eras of hockey as well. This is so long. I am so sorry. Take my words with a grain of salt and some idea hat this is in now way a very deep glance, but thatd the overall impression for someone in hrpf spaces for a while and studies in literary analysis, haha. Hope this helps?

-signed, tynedtime

[EDIT: post being referenced can be read here]I wanted to hoard this in my asks for like 7 months and marinate it but I think this should be on #myblog and so that others can see and maybe say hi.... anyways no need for apologies ever ever ever thank you so much for dropping by to explain some of this to me!! Your notes on pairing trends are super fun, but I found this part most fascinating:

Essentially, in hrpf, if you go deep, the line mate is sacred. They are delegated to a special status that often creates pairings but also have been relegated to a dynamic that is not in competition with the ship itself if the other player isnt a liney, because it's absolutely sacred friendship/connection/whst ever.

MUCH to think about. Please someone who knows more than me (guy blindly pawing around) say something profound here LOL I have half a transcript to get done and some media to gather re; line construction.

But question for you and any interested parties: do you have any reflections/insights to give on hrpf role-based relationships that go beyond pairings? threesomes and moresomes, that is (<- personally NOT a fan of the way people write/talk about three-way relationships as a way to "solve" ship wars) I'm very curious as to how it all shakes out in hrpf (if at all) given there are these sorta built-in triads in the form of forward line combinations.

Please @ me or ping me or carrier pigeon me about your crazed metapost when it drops. I will wait patiently <3

[wurmzirkus]

writing pattern game

Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns! (from most recent to least recent, starting from the top)

got tagged in this (ages ago ofc) by both @raylangivins and @tallahasseemp3. y'all flatter me so much considering how incredibly talented you are!! also y'all have no idea how much i love getting asked about my writing so thanks very much :3

1. crater:

It's cold outside, and already dark by the time Alana makes it home. The train was late, so she spent twenty minutes shivering at the station, looking at her phone every thirty seconds, watching the zero amount of messages and notifications pour in.

2. cypress save me:

Space is cold. 

He knew this before. He went through an awful lot of training every time they sent him up there, and he’s been on his fair share of spacewalks, too. He never got tired of it once, but it's impossible to forget how cold it was out there. 

Space is cold. Kepler’s hands have always been warm.

3. too little, too late:

Kepler is standing in the middle of the hangar bay, keeping his eyes to the floor. Riemann left a couple minutes ago, Young has better things to do, and Jacobi… 

Jacobi is right there. 

4. breathing in your dust (shoutout to NAMMI!!)(honestly, I'm pretty sure i didn't even write this line):

He hung up. The absolute bastard just dropped that on him, and hung up.

5. confetti:

Jacobi is in the middle of making dinner when it becomes too much.

He’s cutting carrots for his stupid fucking soup. It’s hot next to the stove, so there’s a bit of sweat glistening on his forehead, and he doesn’t turn around when he says, “Will you just leave me alone.”

Kepler doesn’t leave.

6. hang on past the last exit:

“Those are going to kill you.”

It’s cold in the room. The window has been open for the last twenty minutes, and Kepler is on his second cigarette. 

7. whumptober prompts:

Kepler looks pathetic. His suit is crumpled and soaked, his hair is sticking to his face and the ends of his once-white sleeves are red with blood. 

He looks at Maxwell without speaking. Determined to commit this look to memory and never forget, Maxwell looks back. 

8. did you think it would be like this:

Maxwell doesn’t notice Kepler in the door for fifteen minutes. She doesn’t see why he doesn’t announce his presence right away - if he wants something, what’s stopping him from walking over to her desk and asking for it? - but she figures he has a point to make. 

A point Maxwell will ignore, because she doesn’t need it right now. 

9. wasteland, baby:

He finds her on the bridge.

10: a mirage in sickness and health:

For as long as she can think back, Maxwell has always spent her time convincing people. 

She could make them think all kinds of things, but the only thing she ever really cared about was getting them to realise she was worth it. 

That she shouldn’t be brushed aside, that she had too much to say to wait her turn to speak. 

tagging @imperial-evolution, @agentmika, @dansnotavampire, @haunthouse, aaaaaand @bananawanis

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Ghouls night out

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[manglam-marfach]

dyke!Chilaios has me understanding breeding kink all of a sudden

[best-enemies]

Got to season 7 on my CSI rewatch and I need to talk about the final scene in s07e11, where Grissom is saying goodbye to Sara before leaving to go on his sabbatical. I mean, look at him. Look at what he does with his hands. *Agressively* Look at himmmmm. He's just a little puppy in love. And he does this right before whispering, "I'll miss you". I'm afraid I'm not gonna make it y'all

[claire-starsword]

Authentic Story of the Shining Force - Saint Fencer Max - Chapter 3

Translation notes:

So, uh. Elliot's name is rendered with two t's in the og game, but a single one in the GBA version. I had never paid attention to that at all until I had already edited all these pages, and I don't care enough to change it.

Cain's sword causes an explosion here. In the game, it is indeed capable of summoning flames.

This is a perfect illustration of how I feel about these names, but I do wonder what the actual intention was, since Cain is supposed to be already gone. The original image is even cut off weirdly in the middle of the text, and i don't think it's a problem with the scan, since every scanned page has a black border showing that the paper itself doesn't cut there. I wonder about the production of this thing, but i'll wait until i translate the author's comments before saying more.

The map in the previous chapter was very accurate to the beta map of the game. The smaller map here showing Rindo however looks off, the coast is different, and there seems to be a river directly to the north of Rindo, as opposed to the path to Shade Abbey. Perhaps fitting since Shade is skipped here.

Metaphaluna, huh? Needlessly to say, the country of the gods/Ancients is called only Metapha in the final game. Also, in this panel, it pops up as an alternate reading for 前世紀 (ancient times), not the name of a country specifically. I chose to romanize the last part as "luna" for three reasons. One is that the continent of Rune is actually rendered as Lune in at least two guides. I take romanizations from JP guides with a grain of salt since they sometimes look bad/unnatural, or are inconsistent (Pelle's name for example has been romanized as both Peil or Payle depending on the book). I checked though, and town names however are consistent in both the books I've seen romanizing things. The second reason is that the beta map used at this point has a fairly noticeable crescent moon shaped island right in the middle. In the final game, we can't know exactly where Metapha is, because you only teleport there. But I wonder if this island had something to do with it at some point. The third reason is simply I saw no better reason. Metaphalna and Metapharuna would be just as valid, but don't have any meaning to them. Update: I didn't know back when I translated this, but it turns out the names "Metaphaluna" and "pseudo-magic" are also mentioned in Doom Blade, a spinoff manga done by Yoshitaka Tamaki himself (character design and one writer of the original game). This implies that these terms were really created by the game's staff, even if they are not mentioned in the actual game.

The biggest equation next to Tao as she explains the magic types is very clearly a E=mc². Look close.

I've retranslated Elliot's scenes from the game thinking it would be relevant to these notes. Now I feel it really isn't, but you get more content so you should be happy.

My main point with that is that Elliot does not say anything about Cain in the game. In the GBA version, Balbazak does try revealing Max, Cain and Darksol's identities before dying, but that's not a thing in the og. So yeah I really translated a bunch of stuff for nothing this time! Except not because Darksol is awesome in that scene and everyone should get to see it.

Now let's talk about Otrant. I have mentioned before that Otrant's gender is never explicitly said, and they speak in a mostly gender neutral way (I feel like there's a few masculine patterns in some lines, but I'm not confident enough to say for certain). What I hadn't noticed is that they also use lipstick in the games, which is probably what sparked these observations to begin with, but i'm uh, occasionally not smart. In any case, if any of these aspects were done at this point in development the artist here sure ignored them, and drew a regular old man who gets called an old man. They hate to see an androgynous boss winning.

I don't recall Otrant's third eye being called "Eye of Truth" anywhere else, but the manual of the game does say it can see the past and the future.

Otrant's naming of the Shining Force is a bit more elaborate here, but the wording is very similar to the actual game.

Finally, let's play spot the cameo!

We've got Gong, Zylo, one of the birds, and probably Anri. Easy.

Here, besides the obvious three who were actually introduced in the story, we again have a bird, Anri between Ken and Hans, Gong to the right, and Mae and Gort behind Luke. If you read the pre-release page you know that Gort was meant to be Mae's servant at some point, so this might be why they're together, or it's just coincidence because they still join around the same time in the final game. More importantly, to Ken's left we have...

Some guys. Who are these. They could be made up by the artist (there will be another case of this), but I find it curious that the artist had to do that when there are so many character to pick from, and he clearly wanted to depict official characters here. For one, there's evidence that Earnest was already designed at that point in development. However, that link also shows that Vankar didn't have a portrait by that time at least, and Vankar would have already joined by this point in the story. So could the bald centaur here be a beta Vankar, or the artist's interpretation of Vankar via unfinished art? Maybe, but just a guess in the end. Mostly I'm just fascinated by how detailed this guy is compared to even Mae and Gort's cameos. The other guy isn't so i don't think about them nearly as much.

[peppermintmochafem]

<3 little diary post

[sabertoothwalrus]

tips for getting people to like your ocs

*disclaimer: this is based on what’s worked for me, aka an artist that likes to make comics/storyboards. so this advice is directed at people who do that

you can do things like this:

Which is fun! Character sheets like this are great, especially for personal reference! But frankly, I don’t think most people engage with this (at least I personally don’t). You could have the coolest character in the world, but it will be harder for most people to feel invested when they’re presented so neutrally like this.

My main piece of advice is: get better at writing.

That might sound harsh when said like that, but let me explain what I mean! (Not trying to imply you’re bad at writing either!)

What I tend to do is just throw characters into situations with as little handholding as I can. Give enough context that readers can follow along, but don’t feel like they’re being explained to.

what can you learn about the characters through their designs alone? (age, personality, economic status, occupation, etc)

what can you learn about the characters’ relationship though their interactions alone? (are they close? familial? romantic? is there hostility? are they tense/relaxed?)

what are the characters currently doing? what were they doing previously (how long have they been talking)? what are they going to do next? can you convey this without dialogue?

how do they feel about what they are doing? are they content? focused? over/understimulated? would they rather be doing something else?

where are they? does it matter? would establishing a setting in at least one panel clarify the scene? is there anything in the enviroment that could tell some of the story?

what time of day is it? what time of year is it? what is the weather like?

Now, with all this in mind, I'm going to give you another example. I'm going to use completely brand new characters for the sake of the experiment, so you won't have any bias (aka I can’t use Protagonist from above, since you already know all about him).

Did this get more of an emotional response from you than the first example? Why do you think so? Who are these characters? How do they know each other? What else can you infer about them? What happened? Who is "she"?

Now, you don't have to actually answer all those questions. But think about them! You can tell people a whole lot about your characters without ever showing them a list of their likes and dislikes.

Obviously, comics aren't the only way to get people invested in your original characters! But regardless, easily digestible formats will grab people's attention faster than huge blocks of text, and comics are a lot less work than doing wholeass storyboards.

Now go and share your ocs with the world!!!

[vamptastic]

apologies in advance to anybody else who is emetophobic. anyway the accursed beasts (my dogs) threw up like a gallon of water on the floor and also some undigested grass. which is really cool. and really fun to help clean up. and i stepped in it barefoot accidentally which made me momentarily feel as if i was trapped in the stomach of a whale. And I will now have disgusting intrusive imagery of it in my head for the next couple days even though the actual thing was not that gross

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you’ve been one of sukuna’s many concubines for quite a while now. yet, you still cannot get rid of the jealousy in your system whenever he interacts with the other women in his harem.

wc. idk around 1 to 2k

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst (hurt to comfort), fluff, suggestive at the end. heian era. you call sukuna ‘my lord’. reader gets called ‘brat, little girl’. size difference. no part2, don’t ask i beg. not beta read.

“get back here, brat,” sukuna raises his voice as he follows you. he isn’t one to care about others’ emotional outbursts, yet here he is, chasing you after you’ve poured out your heart to him.

you don’t know why you’re this upset. you do know, however, that it’s childish of you to walk away mid dinner. you should’ve just stayed seated and refuse to let the thoughts consume you.

now you’re speed walking down the hallways of the estate—your legs carrying you as fast as they can without actually making a run for it. your mind keeps replaying the ‘unsettling’ scene that caused you to flee.

you remember it vividly. the sound of sukuna’s low, amused chuckle. how intrigued it was because of something another concubine told him—how he stopped chewing to say something back to her. which he rarely does.

hell, you’ve never seen him laugh around his other concubines.

“i do not wish to talk to you right now, my lord,” you reply, voice raised so the distance wouldn’t make it a hassle for the king of curses to hear you. you know that feisty attitude of yours entertains sukuna to no end.

he raises an eyebrow once he’s heard your voice; how it’s dripping with envy and hurt. you’ve never reacted like that before—at least not in his presence. it made him want to figure out why and how.

though, he can easily guess the reasoning behind your sudden defiance.

“oh, that so?” sukuna hums. he’s lenient with you this time around. he could catch up to you in under a split second, but he decides to give you that sense of accomplishment first before completely destroying it. he walks after you slowly, your fast steps being the same tempo as his slow pace.

you don’t answer. you’re stubborn. you have no right to feel jealous. you are a fairly new concubine—only a couple months ago did you join sukuna’s harem. yet, the time spent with him was precious.

he treats you differently. everyone notices that. everyone tells you the same. you know he does by the way he lets you off the hook with most stuff you say and do.

you don’t know what you did to gain his favouritsm, but it’s addicting. his attention is addictive. real addictive.

you had sworn not to develop any unneccessary feelings for that ruthless sorcerer. but, with the way sukuna treated you so gently behind closed doors, it was impossible not to.

you eventually reach the doors to your chambers. you slide them open and wish to close them behind you, only for a big hand to halt those movements. you freeze in place and refuse to look up at the owner of that said hand.

“look up,” sukuna demands. his voice causes goosebumps to appear on your arms, but you still don't budge. he clicks his tongue. that’s your first warning. two more and your punishment will be carried out, “we can do this the hard way too if you want.”

you turn your head, your fingers curling around the material of your kimono. you really should not feel this way about a little interaction between sukuna and his other concubine. that is none of your concern. what he does with those other women is none of your concern.

and yet. . .

“i don't want to,” you retort. sukuna walks into your room with a sigh. each step he takes forwards, you take backwards. your back finally bumps against the wall next to your bed.

sukuna towers over you, his tall and big frame making you feel vulnerable. especially with the way those red eyes of his are staring down at you. he crosses all four of his arms before speaking.

“tell me what’s running through that head of yours,” sukuna inquires sternly. he isn’t playing around anymore, you can tell. you glance the other way—knowing that he will laugh at you the moment you tell him why you’re upset.

you have a feeling he knows the reason behind your tantrum anyway.

“it’s nothing of importance, my lord,” you shake your head and relax your tense shoulders to make you seem less upset. your words have some truth in them—you don’t think your feelings of envy hold any value to him.

sukuna sighs again. he’s trying his best not to be annoyed at you. you’re his favorite and he wishes not to sadden you any further. he steps forwards, one hand moving to cup the side of your face.

his rough fingers play with a string of your hair, “i’m not stupid, little girl. i don’t like it when my woman is in distress.”

your heart skips a beat. this is what confuses you—how he can go from stern to gentle and vice versa. it’s surprisingly unexpected, which makes you long for more. even if his behaviour is confusing.

you look up at sukuna. your eyes meet for the first time in a good couple minutes. the corner of sukuna’s lips curls up into a satisfied smirk. that’s one step closer to getting you to open up.

“now,” the king of curses lowers his head to your eye level, the proximity all the more nerve wracking. he holds your jaw super tightly out of the blue. it makes you whimper.

“spit it out.”

there it is. the duality of the man strikes once more. you swallow the spit that’s been building up in your mouth. you bite your bottom lip lightly, trying to gather and form the right words to explain yourself.

sukuna wouldn’t understand. he’s a cold-hearted man who doesn’t care about such ‘trivial’ matters. he’ll just call you stupid, pathetic or whatever other derogatory term.

you stop your thoughts for a moment.

“it’s really just a stupid thing,” you mutter. your fingers curl around sukuna’s wrist—the one hand he’s using to firmly hold your jaw. you take a deep breath in, “i did not like it when you, errr. . . when that woman talked to you at the dinner table.”

your voice is clearly dripping with jealousy. pure, pure jealousy. and for what? because he talked to his other concubine. you feel stupid. you thought you discarded your personal feelings for the sorcerer before you the moment you turned into one of his many women.

“that woman?” sukuna tilts his head, feigning ignorance. that little grin on his face tells you enough. he’s playing with you like some form of entertainment. well, technically you are.

he wants you to be specific. he’s forcing you to be by acting like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.

in all honesty, sukuna’s already forgotten what that woman had said to him. it wasn’t and still isn’t worth remembering. all he can recall is your adorable facial expression when you saw him interact like that with his other concubine.

that little frown on your face was priceless. it makes him want to keep teasing you.

“you know who i am talking about, my lord,” you huff, trying to look away, but get stopped by sukuna readjusting his grip on your jaw. he firmly yet gently taps your cheek once and you know what it means.

“attitude,” sukuna warns with a quick hiss. he can let you say whatever you want to him, but you also have some limits regarding which tone you use with him. you apologise quietly under your breath.

the king of curses nods in satisfaction before releasing the grip on your jaw. his large hand trails down to your neck, thumb rubbing up and down your throat, “so, my little girl is mad at me because i talked to another concubine of mine, huh?”

you nod mindlessly. sukuna can easily get you to comply with him—to obey his every word, simply with his actions. the terms of endearment he uses are the cherry on top. they slip off his tongue so easily with you.

“tsk tsk,” sukuna shakes his head. his hand is now on the back of your head, fingers tangled into your hair. he’s staring down at you with a smug expression. he knows he’s got you wrapped around his finger, “how childish of you.”

you knew that would be one of the things he’d say to you. what you didn’t expect is for him to go for a kiss right after. his lips land on yours firmly, and to no surprise, you instantly return the gesture.

your arms wrap around his neck—your chest pressing against his. sukuna wastes no time in picking you up and letting your legs encircle his waist. he’s not pulling away for air to breathe and you don’t either.

“you’re going to listen to me, yeah?” sukuna murmurs between passionate kisses. he’s holding onto you tightly with two arms, his free hands roaming over your body whilst he pins you against the wall.

when you whimper out a weak, high-pitched ‘yes, my lord’, he smirks against your mouth before turning to kiss your neck. he slightly bites the skin to make sure you’re paying attention to him.

“i don’t remember what that woman said,” sukuna continues, nearly out of breath because of the kisses he’s leaving all over you. he easily grabs both your wrists and pins them above your head on the wall, “i was too busy lookin’ at a much prettier concubine of mine.”

he pulls back a little so he can look you in the eyes. you’re panting and embarrassed by what he just said. one of his hands finds your face again, tracing the shape of your mouth.

“my favourite,” sukuna whispers whilst licking his lips. you can see it in his eyes: he’s silently planning out how he’s going to remind you of your place. your place as his favorite concubine.

he dips his head back down, aiming for the valley between your breasts. he closes his eyes before sucking on the surrounding flesh;

“guess i’ll be nice for once ‘nd show you just what it means to be my favorite so that you’ll never dare forget it again.”

[quickestgold]

Still Life: Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader

Synopsis: Jack always expects the unexpected, both as a doctor and a partner. But when your water breaks during a citywide blackout, the pressure to deliver your baby safely grows with each contraction, trapping you, him and Robby in a single, still moment of life and loss.

Warnings: Angst, as always; Pregnant reader; Features a graphic, traumatic birth > Similar to the birth scene in the show. Pls don’t read if this sounds too heavy for you!! (everyone lives)

Word count: 2.7k+

A/n: Yes, this is a cliché baby-born-in-an-elevator story, but the show gave us Abbot/Robby x Elevator and Collins mentioned getting stuck while giving birth, sooo what can I say, we're here now, aren't we. Something something about the enclosed space being a metaphor for birth etc. I’m also very passionate about raising awareness for birth trauma / birth related injuries + these are my emotional support sad boys, so I had to… Enjoy <3

“I’m not giving my baby an old white guy name” you deadpan, leaning against the nurses' station, glancing up at the board with a playful grin. Ellis and Shen chuckle at your honesty, Princess and Perlah enjoying the show from a distance.

As if summoned, “Oh I know you’re not talking about us” Robby counters, him and Jack suddenly appearing next to you.

“Well I know she’s not talking about me!” Jack adds lightly with that dry humor you love so much.

"All I'm saying is, Frank is a great name for a little boy." Langdon argues from his side of the station, hands on his hips. "Frankie. Frankie Jr., the possibilities are endless..."

You roll your eyes, though you can't help but smile fondly at the camaraderie, a warm feeling growing in your stomach.

Though it might be something else.

"Maybe we should go for a name that doesn't sound like he's already retired", Jack quips, his eyes meeting yours. Something about the way you're leaning against the station, catches his attention, worry flickering in his eyes.

The storm outside has been growing since the start of your shift, a low rumble in the distance interrupts the friendly work banter.

As if on cue, you feel another tightening in your lower abdomen, this time a sharp stab that makes you wince. You brace yourself against the counter, careful not to let anyone notice.

You're 40 weeks pregnant, but you know it's not active labor... yet.

Jack is already so prepared, so meticulous. You don't want to worry him more than necessary.

“Well, my vote’s for something classic”, Robby says cheerfully. “Like, um… Robby. Simple, strong.”

"Good thing you don't get one." Jack raises an eyebrow as he steps behind you, putting an arm around your waist instinctively. With ease he holds up your belly, taking some of the weight off your back. He gently pecks your cheek, whispering into your ear. "You okay?"

You lean into his embrace, taking a breath of relief, as you feel the pressure building inside you again.

Before you can respond, the storm outside shifts from a distant rumble to something more urgent. You hear the first crack of thunder, followed by a flash of lightning that lights up the hospital windows.

“So much for having a quiet night”, Shen laughs.

You instantly shush him, loudly. Everyone's reaction's are instantaneous, Princess and Perlah cursing in Tagalog.

Ellis: "Fuuuck!" Langdon: "You always do this!"

As usual, Shen manages to jinx whatever team is unlucky enough to work his shift.

The elevator doors close with a jarring ding. The tightness in your belly flares again, but you grit your teeth and try to ignore it.

Jack and Robby stand by the doors, arms crossed, like they're guarding something precious.

You lean back against the cold metal walls, the tightening growing again, unable to find a position that's comfortable.

Even in this enclosed space, you can hear the wind howling from outside. The lights flicker, then, without warning, the power cuts out entirely, as the elevator halts to a stop.

You hear Robby curse as the emergency lights turn on, their blue glow casting everything in a surreal light. The elevator now feels even smaller, almost womb-like.

Fuck.

You groan softly, hoping Jack doesn’t catch on.

But of course, he does.

“What was that?” He turns to look directly at you, concern written across his face.

You avoid his gaze. “Nothing, I’m fine."

You say it so unconvincingly, you almost laugh at yourself.

“I can see that.” It's the same skeptical tone he uses with Santos and the other interns. It's charming actually.

“When did you start having contractions?” Robby asks, like he’s already claimed you as his patient.

You hesitate, but there's no point lying. “This morning.”

“You’re joking.” Jack is by your side in a heartbeat, torn between putting a hand on your belly or pulling out his stethoscope. Torn between being doctor, partner or father-to-be.

“I’m okay. Really.” You try to reassure him, gently touching his forearm.

That’s when you feel the warm liquid rushing down your legs, a puddle growing beneath you.

Jack and Robby's eyes drop to your feet, then up at each other. They exchange a look, no words needed. This is happening.

“I- I didn’t realize…” You breathe, dazed.

“You didn’t realize you were in pain?” Jack asks, incredulous.

“I’m always in pain, Jack", you bite back. “Ever since you knocked me up!”

You groan, turning around to lean your elbows against the wall, letting your head drop. Your breath is already ragged.

Jack’s hand finds your back, rubbing slow, grounding circles.

“I’m not having our baby in an elevator…” you pant.

“I’m afraid, we are, love.” Jack whispers gently, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

You let out another sharp groan.

“I need to examine you. Is that alright?” Jack’s voice shifts into professional gear. He pulls gloves from the pocket of his trousers, swiftly slipping them onto his hands.

You nod, squeezing your eyes tightly shut.

He lines up behind you, slipping a hand into the back of your scrubs and reaching down.

Once he’s measured with his fingers, Jack’s eyes flick up to find Robby’s, a mixture of panic and surprise flashing across his features.

Robby reads him instantly. He steps in without a word, steadying your shoulders. His grip is firm and reassuring.

“What?” You gasp.

Jack leans in close to your ear, voice soothing, but urgent. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your already burning cheek. “Honey, listen to me. We’re having this baby now.”

You groan again, louder this time.

Robby’s frown line softens, his lips forming a genuine smile. He and Jack share a warm look, full of excitement.

“No. No!” You shake your head. "Not here."

No prenatal bag. No birthing playlist. No epidural.

“I need to have a proper look, okay?” Jack says calmly, though his hands move quickly.

“Wonderful." You laugh through a groan. "This’ll make a great story for group therapy.”

Nothing says professional boundaries like giving birth in front of your boss.

“I won't look." Robby promises, quickly turning away. "But I am a doctor, you know", he chuckles.

"Not mine, you're not." Your lips form a playful smirk. "This will do wonders for your patient satisfaction scores", you add with a wink.

The air suddenly feels a bit lighter.

Jack kneels down, gently parting your legs and slipping your pants down to your knees.

His eyes widen, before whispering. "You're in active labour, baby", his voice softer now.

Robby doesn't hesitate, rushing to the elevator doors, trying to pry them open. With a metallic screech, they slide just wide enough for people to pass supplies and equipment through. But you haven’t quite reached the next floor.

“Not enough to get her out,” Jack mutters.

You lean forward and peek through the small opening.

Your cervix is probably bigger than that…

“Dana!” Robby yells.

Dana appears instantly, dropping to her stomach to peek inside. She finds you leaning against the wall, pants down, legs shaking. Jack holding you up.

“Jesus. Y’all got terrible timing you know that!”

“We need fresh gloves, blankets, a BOA kit, baby warmer, fetal monitor, anything you can pass through.” Robby orders.

Dana’s already on it, shouting over her shoulder.

Jack turns to you again. “Do you want to sit or get on your knees? What feels more comfortable?”

“I- I don’t think comfortable is the word I’d use right now." You groan. "Feels like I’m being split open front to back.”

“I know. I know." Jack’s hands are already guiding you down. "Let’s get you on the floor okay?”

You drop to all fours.

It’s so goddamn hot.

Your hair sticks to your face, salty water stinging in your eyes, the vein in your forehead threatening to pop.

You tug at your scrub top and Jack understands instantly, pulling it over your head. You sway back and forth, now only in your bra, nothing else.

Groaning. Panting. Cursing.

Jack is beside you, gently massaging your back. He moves with you, trying to match your rhythm.

He’s grateful Robby takes command, barking orders to the team above, in full doctor mode. Focused, clinical.

“You’re doing so good.” Jack whispers.

Another contraction rips through you.

Jack glances at his watch, then over to Robby, who places a surgical blanket on the floor, hooks you up to cables and machines to monitor your and the baby’s vitals.

You curse loudly. “What the hell did you do to me, Abbot!”

“I’m sorry. You can do this.” He takes your hand, squeezes. “Let's meet our boy.”

The next contraction comes fast, stealing your breath. Jack doesn’t need to look at his watch, he knows.

It’s time.

Robby positions himself behind you, breaking his earlier promise. But you forgive him, if it means having your husband by your side and not two doctors competing for who's running this.

“She’s crowning.” Robby announces. His hand applies gentle but firm pressure, to keep the baby from delivering too fast and to prevent tearing.

Jack’s hand trembles slightly in yours.

“Y/N, I can see the head. I need you to push on the next contraction okay?”

You nod your head, almost frantically.

Jack takes a deep breath, for both of you, instructing you to follow his rhythm.

A deep, guttural growl tears from your chest as you push.

And push again.

The sensation overwhelms you. The burning, the tingling, the stinging.

The ring of fire.

“That’s it. Catch your breath before the next one.” Robby's steady but kind voice anchors you. “I need one more big push. Three, two…”

Jack’s voice is soothing in your ear, but you barely register it. You’ve never experienced anything like it.

You’re not even fully in your body anymore.

How long has it been? Minutes? Hours?

You feel another contraction approaching, but Robby suddenly halts you.

“Stop. Y/N, don’t push! Not this time."

“I- I have to.” You groan, almost sobbing.

“No.” Robby's voice is low, sharp.

Jack’s head snaps up.

Something's wrong.

“Baby’s shoulder is stuck on your pelvic bone. I need to release it.”

Jack turns pale, tightening the grip on your arms, preparing for the inevitable.

“I’m sorry,” Robby mutters, but before you can react, his hand breaches your entrance.

The pain is unimaginable.

Is he rearranging your organs?

You scream into Jack’s chest, muffled and desperate. He tightens his arms around you, attempting to ease your pain.

“J- Jack…”

“I know, I know, I’ve got you.” Jack's voice breaks. “Robby…"

“Hang on…” He's still rummaging in there.

"I'm sorry", tears streaking down your face. You look up to find Jack's eyes. "This is my fault... I should've-"

“Look at me. Hey,” Jack says, commanding your gaze. “We’re okay. You hear me? You and me. We’ve got this.”

“What’s going on down there?” Dana shouts from above.

“I need you to lie on your back, Y/N” Robby instructs. But before you can register his words, Jack has already flipped you around. Your bottom lowered against the floor, Jack sliding behind you to brace you in his lap. His arms wrap around your legs, pulling them up and in.

“Lean into me, baby.” Jack’s voice is soft. He closes any distance between you. Practically melting into your body.

“Okay”, Robby breathes, applying suprapubic pressure. “Let’s take a deep breath.”

You feel his hands, firm against your lower abdomen, pushing the baby downward.

“Dana! Call Dr. Ingram, from the NICU, we need him.” Robby shouts towards the elevator doors.

You swallow hard. “Please... Please tell me I'm not having a fucking c-section in an elevator.”

Robby glances up briefly. His voice is low, focused. “Not planning on it.”

He reaches in again, one hand sliding beneath the baby’s head, working carefully to release the shoulder.

Another sharp stab rips through your abdomen. It feels like someone's clawing their way out from the inside, making your vision blur.

“Fuck Robby!" You cry out, voice breaking. "Please stop.”

Though you know he can't.

“Got it.” He suddenly announces. “On the next contraction, you push again.”

Your head feels light, but you know you can’t give up. Not now. Not yet.

3, 2, 1….

You push. With everything. Every muscle. Every breath. Every part of your being.

Until...

A sound cuts through the air.

Crying. Tiny, fragile, crying.

Not yours.

Not Jack’s.

Definitely not Robby’s.

Your eyes snap open. And there he is.

Your baby boy.

Robby lifts him carefully, umbilical still attached, assessing, drying and finally, placing him gently on your chest.

You can feel an unfamiliar but indescribable warmth flood you.

A sob escapes your lips, but this time not from pain.

You've never felt a love like this. Pure and sweet. Instant.

Jack leans in, showering your forehead in kisses, then your boy.

“You did so good, my love." Jack whispers. "So fucking good.” He wraps a blanket around you both, trying to shield you from the cold, from the storm, from everything.

Robby watches the three of you, his own emotions evident in the way his eyes glimmer in the light. He waits a few moments before he's back in professional mode, clamping the cord and letting Jack cut through it.

But they know it's not over. You do too.

You feel another contraction coming…

"The placenta", you murmur.

Robby nods. “One more push for me. Ready?”

He presses into your lower abdomen, a familiar pain ripping through you again.

“There we go." Robby says quietly. "Congratulations mom and dad.”

But...

The moment of bliss suddenly turns into horror.

The world around you starts to fade.

You feel Jack’s arms tense as Robby rips your baby from your chest, passing him through the narrow gap in the elevator doors to Dana’s waiting hands above. You feel the cold breeze against your exposed chest, the loss of warmth from your boy.

What the fuck is he doing? Skin-to-skin is supposed to be longer than this!

You want to argue. Shout at him, but your body won’t let you.

Why are you lying flat on the floor? Where's Jack?

You stare at the ceiling. Your heart starts to race.

You know what this means.

You hear Robby’s voice change. Tighter. Urgent. Then Jack’s voice joins him, both of them shifting into clinical, practiced motion.

Massive blood loss.

If they can’t stop it you’ll need a hysterectomy.

Or worse.

Their words are distant, blending into the chaos of your wandering mind.

“Spike a liter of saline.” “Starting uterine massage.” “Dana! Two units from the blood bank.” "Balloon is past the cervix."

Panic rises in your belly. It travels up to your chest, then your head.

Robby’s movement are frantic now. Jack's too, eyes wide with terror.

Their hands are on you, moving, pushing, pulling, trying to keep you from slipping away.

Jack drops to his knees beside you, instantly at your face, cupping your cheeks with gloved hands slick with sweat and... blood? “Hey,Y/N? Hey.”

You blink slowly, your breath shallow.

“What- what if we name him after my dad?” Jack suggests with an unserious grin.

His deadbeat, boys-don’t-cry, toxic-masculinity-in-person father?

Another time you’d have burst into laughter. And that’s what he’s trying for. A reaction. Anything.

You blink up at him, your lips twitching. It’s a fragile smile, but it’s real.

"Michael.” You whisper.

"I'm here", Robby reassures, working steadily.

No. You gesture weakly. "Th-the baby. Mikey for short."

There’s only one Robby, so that’s the next best thing.

You and Jack want Robby to be the godfather, though he doesn't know yet. He's an important person in both of your lives. And now he's brought your son into this world.

You're glad he's there. For you. And your boys.

Especially if this goes badly...

Jack snorts, but quickly realizes you’re serious. Robby's eyes widen.

“Yeah. I like that.” Jack says softly, nodding, overwhelmed with love and fear.

Jack gently places an oxygen mask over your face, hands trembling as he brushes the soaked hair from your forehead, trying to comfort you in any way he can.

Your eyes flutter open, finding his. Memorizing him.

Jack leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours, whispering things you don’t hear.

Then he feels it. The absence of your breath.

The stillness.

A moment frozen in time, reflecting the fragile balance between life and loss.

Jack's eyes shoot to Robby's, desperate.

But Robby doesn’t stop. Not for a second.

He’ll do whatever it takes to bring you back.

Back to Jack.

Back to your boys.

And he wiiilll. As promised, everyone lives. But I had to end it here - for the drama lolz... Pls lmk what you think <3

Part 2: Still Alive

[isenkus]

mha reactions to their kid being disrespectful towards their mom ?

mom! reader, girl dads! tdbkdk, inspired by the newest scenes i had to witness of my little cousin this holiday season. i can't use my childhood because i met 'mr belt' and i never misbehaved since.

IZUKU MIDORIYA as . . . the nice cop.

— izuku would probably be gentle with his parenting, and that's why he's in this situation in the first place. he's the type of parent that tries to reason with his child with a very nice voice, which ends up accidentally raising a manipulative child. even so, he'll never raise his voice towards his child, but he'll definitely get more serious. especially if she's being disrespectful towards his wife.

it was a tranquil sunday afternoon, where you and your family had visited izuku's mother for lunch. excited for the community pool, your daughter went dressed in her green sundress and her little mermaid swimsuit underneath. her smile dropped when she heard the news.

"i'm sorry, sweetie, the pool is closed!" you frowned, to which your daughter started crying. trying to comfort her, you guided her towards the bathroom to change clothes. what you weren't expecting though, was...

"don't touch me! leave me alone, you witch!"

izuku had never sprinted towards you faster in his life, eyes widened in disbelief. he lowered down to his daughter's height, as he called her attention. "hey kiddo, you didn't really mean that, right?"

your daughter nodded, "mommy won't let me go to the pool" she cried. "she's mean and a witch!"

izuku sighed as he patted his daughter's head, ruffling her hair. "the pool is closed, baby. we can come back tomorrow when it opens, okay? but never call mommy that again, yeah? you hurt her and my feelings that way. now, apologize to your mom."

"'m sorry mommy."

"and you'll never go to the pool again" you whispered to your husband, to which he nodded. "and then, maybe, we won't take you to the pool because you weren't nice to mommy. you have to love your mommy and treat her well" he added.

your daughter cried some more because she would never go to the pool again.

KATSUKI BAKUGO as . . . the restrained cop.

— katsuki would try to be gentle, but with his tone of voice, it would come out horribly. and if. his daughter is an exact copy of him? he would be pissed off and would probably ask you to reason with her first, because fighting fire with fire is horrible. when he finds out your daughter is disrespectful to you, though, he has to control himself not to scream at his child.

trying to teach your daughter to eat different foods was hard. and during the holidays? it was a nightmare.

when you sat beside her trying to spoon-feed her a small piece of turkey, she gagged. "gross! i'm not hungry. mommy made gross food! ew, ew, ew!"

katsuki's head quickly turned to the table where you sat, trying to reason with your daughter. as you fed her the food, she chewed it, and then opened her mouth. she spit. the food. on her hand.

katsuki had a face that read 'i know damn well she didn't, as he stepped closer. when you asked your daughter to please eat and to not waste any food, she snapped.

"shut up mommy!"

"who do ya think yer talking to, kid? huh? that's your mom" katsuki snaps, which earned a sob from his daughter. he realized he should've used a softer tone, but tough love, right? he was raised like that and he turned out fine.

"kid, do you know that mommy's hurt by the way you talked to her? see how ya started cryin' when i yelled? momma feels that way when ya don't treat her well. apologize."

your kid had never apologized quicker.

muttering a soft 'thank you', you turned to your daughter and helped her clean up her hand. katsuki, in the meantime, started wondering.

was the turkey he baked really that gross?

SHOTO TODOROKI as . . . the traumatized cop?

— shoto would try to do everything he can to not resemble his father. and if he ended up with a troubled kid, he would be very patient. if his daughter is disrespectful to his wife, he'd definitely be upset. he would also try to reason with her. he would pull the 'you wanna know how i got this scar' if things get really serious.

when you and your daughter were arguing upstairs, as you tried to dress her up for another todoroki family reunion. when she didn't want to get dressed, she cried.

"i'm going to tell daddy you hit me."

"sweetheart, please listen to me—"

bang.

your daughter threw herself onto the desk to her right, and started weeping more tears as she wailed, "daddy, mommy hit me!"

shoto ran up the stairs to find your weeping daughter and you with the most distressed look on your face. "did you?" he asked, to which you scoffed. "do you really think—"

"—i know you'd never" shoto cut you off, "but i had to ask. she needs to learn about trust, and not to lie."

your husband turned to her daughter, picking her up and cradling her on his arms. "where does it hurt?" he asked, as your daughter pointed at her forehead. his lips placed quick, caring kisses on your daughter's forehead as his expression turned more serious. "i want you to tell me the truth, (daughter's name). did mommy really hit you?"

your daughter looked around, her gaze finally fixating on the ground as she muttered a quiet 'no'.

"then why did you say that?"

she cried some more as she muttered nonsense into your husband's shoulders. shoto's hand cupped her cheek so she would look at him. "do you know how i got this scar?", he asked, to which she shook her head.

"my family was not very nice, and i ended up hurt" he stated, "and mommy is doing everything she can for you to feel loved. is this how we should be with mommy?"

your daughter shook her head.

"your mommy is very caring and nice with you, and we should be the same way with her. now, what do we say to her?"

"...sorry mommy."

"that's much better, my love. let's not do this again."

[mariasont]

My Boss Won't Be Happy About This - A.H

a/n: back to bimbo brain rot!!!! inspired by the first season that one episode (you know the one) where hotch is all macho man with elle in jamaica

masterlist

₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

summary: you’re wrongfully arrested and hotch is not happy about it

warnings: creepy officer, inaccuracies of how law enforcement works, hotch being sexy

wc: 1.3k

"Listen I'm not the type of girl to tell someone how to do their job, but I just don't think you're doing it right."

You were speaking to an empty room, or at least, you were speaking to the mirror in front of you. It's the kind of mirror you had seen in countless interrogation scenes, the kind you usually image Hotch standing behind. You let your gaze linger, wondering if eyes are studying you from the other side, listening to your monologue.

"Well, that, and I also just don't think it's very nice." Your brand spanking new heels were tapping against the dirty floor. 

You weren't happy about that. You weren't happy about any of this. Your feet ache, but the fear of the germs lurking on the floor paralyzes any thoughts of relief by removing your shoes.

"And hey, shouldn't I get a phone call? That's a rule, I think," you mumble, lips turning downward in an unusual frown. It seems like the right time for it. "My boss is not going to take this well. I mean, he's got this look, you know? The kind that makes you want to apologize for things you didn't even do."

You conjured up his daunting expression and released a jittery laugh, all while striving to disregard the biting cold blasting from the AC vent, which seemed determine to freeze you into place. 

You were seriously out of your element, not just in surroundings but in dress--so form-fitting it left very little to the imagination. It seemed to be a good idea for a date. That was before you realized said date would be a complete disaster. Now, it felt like a trap. It had been a spectacle for a man unworthy of the effort, and as you sat in this rigid chair, you found yourself tugging at the hem every other moment, a futile attempt to preserve some semblance of modesty.

"So, when he hears about this little error... Well, let's just say I wouldn't want to be in your shoes." Six hours had passed in this dreary space, and you could feel your sanity fraying at the edges. You muttered, half to yourself, "Not that they're as cute as mine, but you get the point."

The door hinge's creak made you sit bolt upright, a silent supplication for Hotch's rescue echoing through your mind. But today, it seemed, the gods were indifferent. The officer who had arrested you stepped in.

"Having fun talking to yourself?"

You flashed your sweetest smile. "Oh, tons! But I'd have much more fun if you'd uncuff me."

He said nothing, folding his arms over his chest as he dragged his gaze up and down your body in a way that made your skin prickle in discomfort. You attempted to dispel the creeping dread, but it stubbornly lingered.

You did what you could to cover up, despite the awkward angle of your arms. "Listen, this is all just a big mistake. I work for the FBI," you insisted, though it was clear the officer's attention was fixated on your tits rather than your words. "Well, I mean, I'm an assistant for the unit chief of the BAU unit. You've heard of Aaron Hotchner, haven't you?"

The officer's mouth closed without a word, as the door was thrust open yet again, and this time, your heart leapt in recognition. Your knight in shining armor with a lethal expression.

His eyes instantly zeroed in on the officer with a look that could curdle blood, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that you weren't the object of his anger. He approached you wordlessly, his every motion precise and determined.

He carefully shed his jacket, a gesture he seldom made, and draped it across your shoulders. The fleeting caress of his hand against your skin was enough to make you lean into his touch. You let out a breath that you had been unconsciously holding back. 

You watched as Hotch turned, his voice a low, steady force, his words carefully chosen and tinged with an unsettling peace. "Officer," he began, the title spoken almost as warning. "I believe there has been a grave misunderstanding. This woman is not only an esteemed member of the FBI, but she is also under my direct supervision."

He stepped closer, encroaching on the officer's personal space. You watched, almost in slow motion, as the officer's expression morphed into one of sheer terror, his earlier confidence dissolving like sugar in hot tea.

"Six hours," he continued, his voice never rising yet somehow it took up all the space in the confined room. "Six hours of unwarranted detention, without due process. I expect her immediate release. And make no mistake, this lapse in judgment will have its ramifications."

The officer was mute, his fingers clumsily unlocking the handcuffs, his movements hurried, his hands trembling. A twinge of pity flickered within you, but it was quickly overshadowed by the memory of considering the table as a makeshift blanket.

The moment the metal clicked open; you wasted no time. You flung your arms around Hotch, the pent relief and biting chill of the past few hours pouring out of you. You were desperate for warmth, specifically his warmth.

He stiffened, caught off guard by your actions. You feel the anger radiating through him, practically pulsing through his skin. As you clung to him, you felt the draft on your legs as your dress slid up, and without missing a beat Hotch's hand discreetly adjusted the fabric, all while keeping his eyes locked on the officer, a silent warning in his gaze.

Once he was certain you were decently covered, he allowed himself to draw him into his arms. One arm secured around your waist, the other weaving through your hair. You were cold. It renewed another tide of rage through his bloodstream.

With the officer's departure, the room's oppressive atmosphere lightened a touch, leaving you still latched onto your boss.

"Oh, sir, you wouldn't believe it," you started, his hands tracing up your spine and sparking a trail of goosebumps that had nothing to do with the chill. "They kept asking me about a heist, as if I'd know anything about that! And then they show me this picture, and I mean, sure, she had my hair, but that's about it."

You rambled on, and he let you, the absurdity of the situation pouring out in a stream of consciousness. Hotch's hold on you tightened. You could sense the coiled tension in him, a tempest of anger held a bay.

"And the room, it was so cold! I mean, I'm sure you can tell. My teeth were chattering, and all I could think of was how I'd rather be filing your paperwork or listening to Reid's factoids about the quantum mechanics of coffee beans."

You felt Hotch's breath on your hair as he let out a sigh. 

"I'm just glad you're here now," you whispered, finally allowing yourself to relax in his embrace.

Hotch gave a curt nod, his jaw set. He was itching to confront the officer, to unleash a tirade not meant for your ears. But he was well aware of how much you needed him right now, and that trumped everything in his book.

Hotch took a moment to compose himself before speaking. "This isn't just incompetence; it's negligence. I will have this place reevaluated for its standards, or lack thereof."

You took a step back, hands still resting on his arms, and he maintained his grip on your waist. "I bet this is the last time you'll let me go on a date without a full background check on the guy, huh, sir?"

Hotch's hold on your waist firmed just a fraction. "Maybe it's the last time I let you go on a date, period."

He was only half-joking.

"Not even with you?" You tilted your head to meet his gaze, drawing his jacket closer around you.

Hotch just simply gives you that look, the one that says a thousand words without a sound. He's telling you to tread lightly.

"Alright, I'll be good," you giggle, the tension easing from your shoulders. "Can you take me home now, please?"

He nods, "Yeah, let's get you home."

And then he leads you out, thinking to himself that the next person to take you out will be him, but that's for him to know and you to find out later.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[harmonysanreads]

PUPPY PHAINON IS SO REAL OMG

i think it be so funny (extremely sexy) if he goes absolutely feral because his love got hurt on the battlefield

i'm talking absolute carnage, not a soul alive, people being genuinely scared because wtf man (bonus if his partner only got a minor flesh wound hehe)

Your lover has been acting... strange recently.

Though, the abnormalities have been so conveniently spaced, so intertwined with inconveniences that they could be brushed off as mere coincidences — in hindsight, at least. You'd be found guilty of this practice, as it becomes second nature to assume the best of people that can bear one's trust. There appears the occasional incident, where you find yourself second guessing that faith instead and question the normalcy of this particular genre of human behavior.

“Will you tell me now, who did this to you, melite?”

You find that you need to use force in order to push down the flinch that almost crawled all over your skin, unaccustomed to this tone of his.

You push yourself closer, your nails dig a bit harder into the fabric covering his arm ; sensing his gaze towards your direction. Your grasp is more labored than it should've been, you can feel the tendons beneath your grip flexing in barely held restraint. Murmurs follow their way to your ear, unintelligible in fear of feeding further the hero's wrath.

“I have been telling you this since the beginning, Phai.” in spite of your effort, exasperation bleeds into your words.

You glance from behind Phainon's shadow — pointedly at that — towards the knuckle tight grip he has on the fellow's skull. ‘Unfortunate’ probably does not suffice to describe this random pedestrian's situation. You're not given more time to ponder the validity of that claim as something reminiscent of a crack drifts to your ear, alerting you to hasten.

“It wasn't this man, it wasn't any human to begin with! You have to believe me, please.” you tilt your head and make sure to secure his gaze, ripples of discontent appear on the once placid ocean.

You knew it wasn't exactly unusual for one's protective instincts to be provoked in relation to a loved one, but for it reach this magnitude was concerning in your book. Especially so considering their increasing appearances, over the most mundane matters at that.

The Chrysos Heirs aren't known as without their fair share of eccentricities, you suppose they are suited for ones destined to be heroes. But every new scene over a scratch against a surface, a person standing too close, a different gaze lingering too long has you questioning if Phainon's ‘protectiveness’ can really be excused for long.

Perhaps the helplessness in your eyes had finally pushed through the layers of rage bubbling in his head and the contact with your skin had weakened the flames, as he loosens his clasp on the man's head, before shoving him aside with enough force to make you feel the kick of your heart against your ribcage.

You don't get to check the man's condition as Phainon takes your hand in his previously occupied one, his thumb ghosts over the scratch across its back, the swift difference unnerves you for a second.

You know not to waste your breath though, catching the implications. “It... was that pillar.” you avert your eyes upon feeling his caress halt.

“...Which one?” his curt inquiry alerts you. His fingers flex and relax around yours, you can no longer hear the crowd.

You bypass a breath to grasp his collar, caution clouds your mind. The abruptness of your action startles Phainon, as he meets your frown.

“Don’t.” you warn, the realization that makes itself known on his countenance at your order proves your hypothesis to be correct.

“But that pillar deserves it, melite.” something similar to a pout softens his face and at last you find traces of the Phainon you are so familiar with. “If it's hurt you once, it will do it again. Isn't it better to just remove it to avoid that scenario?”

You let go of his collar and rest your palm on his cheek, unable to restrain the sigh that escapes your lips, “Phai, the pillar is an inanimate object.”

He leans into your touch, you're certain he would've melted from it had it not been for the embers of his previous fury keeping his senses sharp, “So?”

You steer yourself away from face-palming, “So, I'm saying that you shouldn't make more of a scene than you've already had. I just want a peaceful evening with you, okay?”

He blankly stares at you for a moment, digesting each syllable. Only when the ‘with you’ reaches his ears does he seem to have sobered up. Phainon nods, taking your hand from his face to press a kiss on the scratch marring the skin. You notice his eyes straying, you would've missed it completely had you not been paying attention — a side-eye towards the fellow now scrambling away.

You've succeeded in preventing any major incident from occuring today, but your power in maintaining the consistency of this endeavor remains uncertain.

I tweaked the scenario a bit because it was funnier in my head orz but overprotective Phainon is so delicious, ty nonnie!