#every show is thoroughly improved by a dog

[merthurians-prat-and-idiot]

Best scene of s3 so far- One of the Queen's dogs practicing jumping through the hula hoop!!

[meowcats734]

[Soulmage] A mimic, seeking to improve its hunting ability, starts hiding among humans studying them to the point where it can pull off a perfect human disguise. However, it soon finds that life as a human is much better than life as a mimic pretending to be furniture.

I expected Odin to show up the next time I fell asleep. Perhaps to taunt me, perhaps to manipulate me further, perhaps to go for the kill and offer a deal I would be forced to refuse.

What I didn't expect was a dreamless, uneasy slumber.

When I woke up, I half-expected to still be in a dream, with Odin waiting to finally spring the trap they'd spent weeks building. But... Experimentally, I waved my hand in front of my face. Unless Odin had somehow fundamentally changed the rules of soulspace, I wasn't in a dream. This was reality.

Odin had thoroughly outmaneuvered me, held me over a barrel in order to extort me, and then... left me entirely alone.

Somehow, the thought terrified me more than if they'd showed up in full demonic form, tempting me with every trick they knew.

My stomach growled, and I grimaced. Odin could wait; if they weren't immediately going to twist my brain into knots, I could at least spend some time trying to find something to eat in this hellhole. But I'd already spent a day wandering the upper reaches of the Plane of Elemental Falsehood, and I'd found nothing but wooden steaks and salads made of solid glue.

So that left me with only one choice.

I had to go deeper.

###

As dungeon names went, "Do Not Enter" was one of the scariest. Oh, sure, it wasn't "Quarznidoth's Tomb" or "Home of a Thousand Pointy, Tentacled Horrors," but there was something primally worrying about the only lettering on the dungeon entrance being "Do Not Enter," scrawled in a fluid that could have been oil or blood or something in between.

But I needed food in my belly, and it wasn't like there were many job opportunities in my nearby area, so into Do Not Enter I went. At least my contrarian side got some kicks out of defying the message.

The halls within were slick with oil, iridescent rainbow sheens glancing off their surface wherever one of the dungeon's strange, sourceless sunbeams struck. I could hear the click-click-clack-ing of one of those clockwork monstrosities that pretended to be human in the distance, and pointedly stayed away.

The only weapon I had was a wooden chair leg, and my only relevant offensive spell was soulsight. In theory, my soulsight would let me sense when anything with a soul got within a couple dozen meters of me... but that didn't exactly help when mimics didn't have souls.

I didn't fancy my odds against one of those demonic mimics in my current state. I was alone on my little adventure, and I needed to prioritize.

Find food, eat the food, live another day. That was my mission. Everything else was irrelevant.

I found it darkly amusing that the inhabitants of the dungeon quite possibly had the same goal as me.

"Hello?" A high-pitched, feminine voice called. Oh, rifts, it was another one of those mimics that could copy voices. The one that had done my mother's voice was creepy enough, but at least I could tell it wasn't human—this one, however, sounded perfectly real. "Is anybody there?"

Nnnnnope. Nope, nope, nope. I wasn't touching that with a ten-foot pole. The last creepy clockwork nasty had nearly gotten me, and that was when I had a convenient ledge to shove it off of; in these cramped hallways, armed with nothing but a stick, a straight-up fight with a mimic was just asking to be turned into dog chow. I hated myself, but I didn't hate myself that much.

But on the other hand...

It could have been a real person. It could have been someone else, lost and hungry and afraid, just like me.

And the part of me that wanted to lie in bed all day and never wake up would get just a little bit stronger if I abandoned someone down here without even trying to look.

"What do we think, gang? All in favor of risking our lives to get eaten by a mimic, say 'aye'," I muttered.

Of course, nobody answered. There was no-one here but me.

"And all in favor of doing nothing, and tiptoeing away to leave someone to die?"

I was alone. Which meant that there was nobody to stop me from doing something monumentally stupid.

Being a solo adventurer was tough.

Cursing the shard of myself that still tried to be a halfway-decent person, I slunk down the oily, dim halls to where I last heard the voice.

"Hellloooooooo?" The voice called out. "Is anyone there?"

I turned the corner and froze.

She looked like a real person, not a mimic. Her pale skin was the pale of flesh, not of cracked ceramic and ebony. Her eyes creased up at the corners instead of swiveling freely in their sockets, and their blue was the blue of a healthy iris, not of too-perfect paint. Her body didn't even tick and ping with metallic sounds like every other mimic I'd met did.

But my soulsight informed me that there was nothing in her heart.

I backed away, but she must have heard the splash of oil, because she turned around. And when she turned, it was relieved and human, not rigid and mechanical. "Oh, thank the rifts! Someone else came through! I thought... I thought that I was alone down here..."

I warily took a step back. "Don't come any closer," I warned, holding my chair leg between us as if it would do anything against a being made of metal.

Her expression flickered—and not in the uncanny shutdown of a mimic entering hunting mode, but... in genuine pain and shock. She complied, though, holding her hands up and taking a step back. "I... I'm sorry. It's just... been so long since I've seen another person."

"Are you?" I asked.

She blinked. "What?"

"A person," I continued.

Emotions flickered across her face—offense, fear, horror, resolution—and slowly, she closed her eyes.

"What... what gave it away?"

I... paused. That... wasn't the response I'd expected from a vicious killing machine. "You... I have soulsight. You don't have a soul." At her hurt expression, some part of me was compelled to say, "...Sorry."

She bitterly laughed. "No. No, don't apologize. I... I should have expected this. Why should I count as a person, anyways? I thought... I thought if I faked it for long enough, I could be... real. Laugh along when adventurers made jokes, instead of dumbly, numbly staring. Cry in pain when I break my leg, instead of idly thinking how inconvenient it was."

"Get out of bed with a smile on your face, instead of lying on the floor, wishing that you'd never wake up," I found myself blurting out.

The mimic turned to me, surprised, and I swallowed heavily.

"I... I know what it's like." I bit my lip, then... well, to hell with it. I was already in the room with the mimic. If she wanted to kill me, she'd have done so already. "Putting on a mask. Waking up every day and pretending to be human. Because you like what they have. Because you want to live in the light with them."

The mimic stared at me, shocked. "Are you another..."

I shook my head. "I'm a human, born and raised. I just... sometimes feel like I don't have a soul, either."

The mimic playing human and the human playing mimic traded long, bone-deep looks for a cautious... considering... vulnerable heartbeat.

Then she reached out to shake my hand.

"Meloai," she said.

"Cienne," I replied, shaking her hand.

"Come on," she said. "It's not safe out here. The other mimics aren't as... much of a person as I am." She shuddered. "I've got a saferoom with human-food and real beds. You'll like it there, I promise."

A faint smile crept across my face. "I believe you, Meloai."

At the use of the name—her name—she smiled back.

Being a solo adventurer was tough.

It was a good thing I'd found a friend.

A.N.

Soulmage is a serial written in response to writing prompts. Stick around for more episodes, or join my Discord to chat about it!

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[jeonstudios]

꒰ hey, lo-ve .ᐟ.ᐟ ꒱ ꪆ

it's honestly upsetting to learn that tumblr ate up that anon-text i had submitted, outpouring my thoughts on eoalh. i'm gonna try writing some of it again ( it's been a month, and i cannot remember most of what i wrote ), but here goes nothing.

my journey with eoalh began back in 2022. i believe the story was still updating then(?) sorry for my lack of memories, haha. that being said— i kept screenshots of my favorite excerpts. even used the "you are my birdie" x "you are like a tiny little bird baby that fell out of the nest that i found and now i have to take care of" analogies with my crush/long time close(?) friend back then ( i'm over him 98% ) anyway, he is kinda like eoalh!jk. so loved that his ego outcompetes his brain sometimes that he feels unloved instead, despite all the attention swarming around him.

another point among many that touched me would be

oc talking about kindness. her idea of it reflects william blake's concept of "higher innocence", which i am very much a proponent of, by the way. true, it can drain you often if you foget how to show yourself equal kindness too, and our oc really struggled with that aspect, right? i'm glad. really glad you showcased it beautifully. a lot of her resonated with me. especially, her college days and how she, without a resistance, would take rejection and never try to blame it on others. i think i've outgrown that a bit, or significantly. i try to look at a situation the most neutral way i can, learn where i need improvements, and just do my best to move on. but the whole "none of it is your fault. yeah, i understand. it's alright, you don't have to worry about me. really." reassurances were so me. is still me.

then there was oc's need to shower people with kindness and love bcos she didn't wanna die with regrets. that's always been me. i would even narrate to people my stream of consciousness bcos "WHAT IF I DIE AND I NEVER GET TO TELL YOU HOW AND IN WHAT WAYS DID THIS MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHT OCCURED TO MY PUNY LITTLE BRAIN??"

so that was 2022, right? fast forward a few months »»

i had completely forgotten about the story's name. LOL 🤸🏻‍♀️ i remember i found you through @ggukkiereads recommendations. somebody had asked about the story back then— that's how i discovered you in 2022. but that same year, i had to sit for major exams. it made things hard to keep up with socials. lost the list, the ask & the story. imagine my agony? lol. all i had were screenshots of certain scenes ( without the account name visible, bruh ). @ggukkiereads went into hiatus, too. my search didn't end though. however, my agony hadn't either.

that's until 2024 𖦹 ･͛♡̷̷̷･͛

EL DORADO. ahoy, i 'ave found it and ye! prolly searched some bs like "bet!au jk tumblr" etc. didn't seem to work before tho. yeah, until that fateful 2024 evening. oh, agony! ( bugs bunny undertone ) it was from the same recs account. haha. i swear i had previously searched through every one of her lists! but oh, boy. speak of god's timing.

anyway, had the best time reading the story thoroughly. read fics from your recs account, too. imy favorite was a hogwarts!au where jk is in the quidditch team. huehue. read dc, bt and basically every one of your fics. but eoalh is eoalh, right? i'm so full of love for them, and so full of brainrots. when you mentioned the babybirthing drabble would have near d-word scenes? oh my, i thought that was tasty. bcos i do wanna see the fear in his eyes and heart when he sees her almost slip through his grasps. bahaha, as if all the angsts weren't enough. STILL !! it's fun to witness a man be loser and grovel and cry. i trust them tho. however, what's a little angsty brainrot? they are forever birdies. they will grow and fly together. almost close to the sun, but never too close like icarus, again. i believe in them. yeah.

but only bc i'm feeling vixeny— what's jealous eoalh!jk like? after marriage? NO, NAMJOON AND HER PET DOG WASN'T ENOUGH! I AM EAGER TO KNOW WHAT NEEDY EOALH!JK IS UP TO!

꒷ random gibberish incoming ꒷

dare i say, bts wasn't even my main fandom growing up? i mean i was never a hard stan of any group except [redacted], but kpop back then didn't need that. it was peaceful with fun interactive moments between every other group & reactions to performances. i kept up with bts since their debut, quite casually. the entirety of 3rd gen kpop is home to me in that regard.

BUT! BEHOLD! it's authors like you who made my attachment to them better. so, thanks for writing, yeah? know the power your pen/keyboard wields. i love how you aren't afraid to write about insecurities and vulnerabilities, in general. one might argue saying, "oh, it's easy to be behind a screen and type." maybe, but repeated exploration isn't ( respectfully and admirably said )

it means the author is trying to speak to the audience by baring themselves/their characters, sharing their views on topics whether personal/impersonal. it's not an arbitrary or whimsical piece of work. it's beautifully thought out and constructed.

you are really amazing, lo-ve. hope you keep growing, learning, and expanding your horizon. all the best wishes for you, sweets. also, a gentle reminder : you are much more than an author to me. kudos to your human.

[🎀🖇🩵]

yeah, tumblr suck sometimes! i've made it a habit to screenshot the ask before i send any just in case 😩 i'm glad you like eoalh and feel like you can relate to it! i do tend to write about things (and people) that i find comforting at the moment and as for eoalh!reader, i wanted her to be "weak" in a way i'm scared to be, and show that she'll be loved in the right way regardless. ♥️

[sewingmachine09]

How to Properly Maintain Your Sewing Machine Parts

Maintaining your sewing machine is crucial to ensure its longevity and optimal performance. Proper maintenance not only extends the life of the machine but also ensures the quality of your sewing projects. Here’s a comprehensive guide on how to properly maintain your sewing machine parts, with a focus on spare parts.

Understanding Your Sewing Machine

Before diving into maintenance, it's essential to understand the key components of your sewing machine. These include the needle, bobbin, bobbin case, tension disks, feed dogs, presser foot, and various internal gears. Knowing these parts and their functions helps you identify when they need cleaning or replacement.

Regular Cleaning

Unplug the Machine: Always unplug your sewing machine before starting any maintenance to avoid accidents.

Dust Removal: Use a small brush or a vacuum attachment to remove lint and dust from the machine, especially around the bobbin area, feed dogs, and tension disks. Lint buildup can cause the machine to malfunction.

Needle Care: Replace the needle regularly. A bent or dull needle can damage your fabric and the machine. It's recommended to change the needle after every project or every 8 hours of sewing.

Lubrication

Proper lubrication of your sewing machine is crucial. Refer to your machine’s manual for the recommended oil type and lubrication points. Typically, you should oil the moving parts such as the shuttle hook, needle bar, and other metal components. Avoid over-oiling as it can attract more lint and dust.

Checking and Replacing Spare Parts

Spare parts are essential for the longevity of your sewing machine. Here’s how to ensure they are always in top condition:

Bobbin and Bobbin Case: Inspect the bobbin and bobbin case regularly. Ensure they are clean and free of any damage. Replace them if they are worn out or damaged. Using the right bobbin for your machine model is crucial to avoid tension issues.

Drive Belts: Check the drive belts for any signs of wear or fraying. A worn-out belt can affect the machine's performance. Replace the belt if it shows any signs of damage.

Presser Feet: Different sewing projects require different presser feet. Keep a set of spare presser feet for various tasks and replace them as needed. Ensure they are properly attached to avoid uneven stitches.

Light Bulb: The sewing machine’s light bulb is often overlooked. Ensure the bulb is working correctly, and replace it if it’s dim or burnt out. A well-lit work area prevents eye strain and improves precision.

 

Calibration and Tension Adjustment

Maintaining the correct tension is vital for quality stitching. Regularly check the machine’s tension and adjust it according to the fabric and thread you are using. If you notice consistent tension issues, it might be time to replace the tension disks or consult a professional.

Storage

Proper storage of your sewing machine and its spare parts is essential. Cover your machine when not in use to protect it from dust. Store spare parts in labeled containers to keep them organized and easily accessible. Avoid storing your machine in damp or excessively hot areas, as this can damage the internal components.

Professional Servicing

Even with regular maintenance, it’s advisable to have your sewing machine serviced by a professional annually. A technician can thoroughly clean and inspect the internal parts, ensuring everything is in working order and replacing any worn-out spare parts.

 

Proper maintenance of your sewing machine and its spare parts is crucial for its longevity and performance. Regular cleaning, lubrication, and timely replacement of spare parts can prevent many common sewing machine issues. By following these maintenance tips, you can ensure your sewing projects are always of the highest quality and your machine remains in excellent condition for years to come.

[jeanjane]

Pet-Safe Grooming Techniques: Ensuring Comfort and Safety in Abu Dhabi

As pet owners, ensuring the comfort and safety of our furry friends during grooming sessions is paramount. In Abu Dhabi, where pet ownership is on the rise, understanding the best practices for cat grooming, dog grooming, and choosing the right pet day care is crucial. This article delves into the essential techniques and tips to ensure your pets are well-groomed in a safe and stress-free environment.

Understanding the Importance of Pet Grooming

Grooming is more than just keeping your pet looking good. Regular grooming sessions help maintain your pet's overall health and well-being. It can prevent health issues, improve their comfort, and strengthen the bond between you and your pet.

Benefits of Regular Grooming

Health Checks: Regular grooming allows you to check for any abnormalities on your pet's skin, such as lumps, bumps, or parasites.

Reduced Shedding: Regular brushing removes loose fur and reduces the amount of hair your pet sheds.

Prevention of Matting: For long-haired breeds, regular grooming prevents matting, which can cause skin irritation and infection.

Improved Hygiene: Clean ears, trimmed nails, and brushed teeth are essential for preventing infections and other health issues.

Bonding Time: Grooming sessions are an excellent opportunity to bond with your pet and show them care and affection.

Cat Grooming in Abu Dhabi

Cats are generally meticulous groomers, but they still need assistance from their owners to stay in top condition. Abu Dhabi's warm climate can also add to the grooming needs of cats, especially long-haired breeds.

Essential Cat Grooming Techniques

Brushing

Regular brushing is crucial, especially for long-haired cats like Persians and Maine Coons.

Tools: Use a slicker brush or a metal comb designed for cats.

Frequency: Brush your cat at least once a week. Long-haired breeds may require daily brushing.

Technique: Brush gently in the direction of the fur growth to prevent pulling and discomfort.

Bathing

Most cats are not fond of water, but occasional baths might be necessary.

Products: Use a cat-specific shampoo. Human shampoos can be too harsh for a cat's sensitive skin.

Frequency: Bathing should be infrequent, around once every few months unless your cat gets particularly dirty.

Technique: Be gentle and use lukewarm water. Ensure thorough rinsing to remove all shampoo residues.

Nail Trimming

Regular nail trimming prevents overgrown nails that can lead to discomfort and health issues.

Tools: Use cat nail clippers or scissors.

Frequency: Trim your cat's nails every two to three weeks.

Technique: Carefully trim the tip of the nail, avoiding the quick, which is the sensitive area containing nerves and blood vessels.

Ear Cleaning

Ear cleaning helps prevent infections and mite infestations.

Products: Use a cat ear cleaning solution.

Frequency: Check and clean ears monthly.

Technique: Apply the solution to a cotton ball and gently clean the outer ear. Avoid inserting anything into the ear canal.

Dog Grooming in Abu Dhabi

Dog grooming is essential for keeping your canine companion healthy and happy. The variety of dog breeds in Abu Dhabi means that grooming needs can vary significantly.

Essential Dog Grooming Techniques

Brushing

Brushing helps maintain a healthy coat and reduces shedding.

Tools: Use a brush suited to your dog's coat type (slicker brush, bristle brush, or pin brush).

Frequency: Brush your dog at least once a week. Double-coated breeds and long-haired breeds may require more frequent brushing.

Technique: Brush in the direction of hair growth, and be gentle to avoid pulling.

Bathing

Regular baths keep your dog clean and free from dirt and parasites.

Products: Use dog-specific shampoos. Avoid human shampoos as they can irritate a dog's skin.

Frequency: Bathe your dog every 4-6 weeks or as needed.

Technique: Use lukewarm water and thoroughly rinse out all shampoo to prevent skin irritation.

Nail Trimming

Keeping your dog's nails trimmed prevents pain and potential injuries.

Tools: Use dog nail clippers or a nail grinder.

Frequency: Trim nails every 3-4 weeks.

Technique: Trim a small portion of the nail at a time, avoiding the quick.

Ear Cleaning

Regular ear cleaning prevents infections, especially in breeds with floppy ears.

Products: Use a vet-recommended ear cleaner.

Frequency: Clean ears weekly or as advised by your vet.

Technique: Apply the cleaner to a cotton ball and gently wipe the outer ear. Never insert anything into the ear canal.

Teeth Brushing

Maintaining oral hygiene is crucial for your dog's overall health.

Products: Use dog-specific toothpaste and a toothbrush.

Frequency: Brush your dog's teeth several times a week.

Technique: Brush in gentle, circular motions, focusing on the gum line.

Choosing the Right Pet Grooming Service in Abu Dhabi

Finding a reputable pet grooming service in Abu Dhabi can ensure your pet receives professional care. Here are some tips for choosing the best service.

Key Factors to Consider

Certification and Training

Ensure the grooming service has certified and trained professionals who are knowledgeable about various grooming techniques and animal behavior.

Clean and Safe Environment

The grooming facility should be clean, well-ventilated, and safe. Check for proper sanitation practices and the condition of grooming tools and equipment.

Range of Services

Choose a service that offers a comprehensive range of grooming options, including baths, haircuts, nail trimming, and ear cleaning.

Reviews and Recommendations

Look for reviews and ask for recommendations from other pet owners. Positive feedback and personal experiences can help you make an informed decision.

Stress-Free Handling

Ensure the groomers are skilled in handling pets gently and patiently, especially if your pet is anxious or fearful.

Pet Day Care in Abu Dhabi: A Complement to Grooming

In addition to grooming, pet day care services in Abu Dhabi offer a safe and stimulating environment for your pets while you are away.

Benefits of Pet Day Care

Socialization: Pets get to interact with other animals, which is essential for their social development.

Exercise: Day care facilities provide ample space and activities to keep your pet physically active.

Supervision: Professional staff monitor your pet's health and behavior, ensuring they are safe and well-cared for.

Mental Stimulation: Day care centers offer toys and activities that keep your pet mentally engaged.

Choosing the Right Pet Day Care

Facility Tour

Visit the facility to check its cleanliness, safety, and the overall environment.

Staff Qualifications

Ensure the staff is trained in animal care and behavior management.

Activities and Schedule

Inquire about the daily schedule and the types of activities provided.

Health and Safety Protocols

Check the center's protocols for handling health emergencies and ensuring pet safety.

Conclusion

Pet grooming is an essential aspect of pet ownership in Abu Dhabi. Whether you are managing cat grooming or dog grooming at home, or choosing professional services, the focus should always be on your pet's comfort and safety. Additionally, utilizing pet day care services can provide your pet with the socialization and exercise they need, further contributing to their overall well-being.

By following the outlined techniques and tips, you can ensure your furry friends remain healthy, happy, and well-groomed, making their lives and yours more enjoyable.

[davidanderson121]

Dog Has Hiccups - Volhard Dog Nutrition

Cure For Kennel Cough: 5 Home Remedies That Work Kennel cough is a respiratory infection that affects dogs and cats. It is highly contagious and can be deadly if not treated immediately. If you’re caring for a dog or cat with kennel cough, these five home remedies will help keep them healthy and fighting off the infection. If your pet is showing any of the following symptoms, it’s time to get them to the vet: fever, coughing, sneezing, loss of appetite or sleep, diarrhea or vomiting. Dog Has Hiccups Kennel Cough: Causes and Prevention Kennel cough is a contagious respiratory infection that can be spread through coughing and sneezing. The virus is highly contagious and can be harmful to both dogs and humans. Kennel cough is most common in young puppies, but it can occur at any age. There is no specific cure for kennel cough, but there are some methods that can help prevent the infection from spreading. Keep your dog isolated from other dogs if you think he may have kennel cough. Clean your home thoroughly each time you have a guest over to avoid bringing the virus into the house. Make sure your dog has access to fresh air and plenty of exercise. If you notice your dog has symptoms of kennel cough, take him to see a veterinarian as soon as possible. There are many treatments available for dogs with kennel cough, and the doctor will decide which one is best for your pet. Home Remedies for Kennel Cough There are many home remedies for kennel cough that can help clear your dog's airway and keep them comfortable. Here are some of the most common: - Make a strong tea of honey and lemon juice. Add enough water to make a cup, and give it to your dog orally or pour it into their kennel. Lemon is thought to be soothing, while the honey helps mask the smell of bacteria. - Brew an infusion of chamomile flowers and licorice root in hot water. Pour this into a spray bottle and spritz it into your dog's nose every few hours. Chamomile is calming, while licorice fights infection. - Steam your home with clean white vinegar before you bring in your dog for visits. This will kill any bacteria that might be lingering, and it smells great too! - Add 1 tsp baking soda to 2 cups of warm water, mix well, then pour this mixture over your dog. Bathe them immediately after soaking, and dry them off with a towel. Baking soda is effective at killing germs and making your pet smell good! How to Treat Kennel Cough at Home If your dog is coughing and has a fever, his symptoms may be related to kennel cough. Kennel cough is a contagious respiratory illness that can be spread through close contact with an infected animal or its saliva or mucus. Treatment typically involves rest, fluids and antibiotics. Here are six home remedies that have been proven to help relieve symptoms of kennel cough in dogs: 1. Clean the Dog's Airway: One of the main causes of kennel cough is bacteria getting into the lungs. To help prevent further infections, make sure to clean your dog's airway regularly with a mild solution of soap and water. If the coughing doesn't improve after several days of using this solution, take your dog to the veterinarian for testing.

[comicnerd557]

Stray Kids as Teachers!!

Bang Chan

Definitely the music teacher

Type of teacher that is super caring

Anyone can talk to him about anything

Offers life advice

Mostly good, sometimes joking

“Pay your taxes and don’t drink and drive.”

Finger guns

Tries to use young people slang

Fails even though he himself is super young

Keeps pictures of his dog on his desk at all times

“Mr.Bang, who’s that?” Points at picture of Barry

He then goes into Barry’s life story, slowly gaining an audience of other students

Every kid has a crush on him

It’s a rite of passage at this point

“Have you seen his ass?” “Duh, who hasn’t?”

Lee Know

The tired art teacher

Has sass battles with his students

Winner gets some candy

He almost always gets the candy

Plays movies once a week

Thinks everyone deserves to relax

Super chill with what students want to create

After all, art is personal

Not at all harsh with grading

Sneaks his cats into the school sometimes

Gets caught, claims they’re there to be models

Almost always has music playing

Students go to him when they need someone to vent to

Gives somewhat violent advice so.... Don’t take it

Everyone wonders when he’ll get with Mr.Han

There’s bets going

Even staff are in on it

Mr.Bang started the bets

Seo Changbin

Everyone’s favorite gym teacher

Specializes his class for students' needs

For example, the asthmatic doesn’t have to run laps, instead, they do some weight lifting

Stresses the importance of warmups and cool downs

Thursdays are pool days

Everyone worships Thursday, as shirtless Mr.Seo is quite the sight

Fridays are fun days

Students pick whatever they want to do that day

Even group nap time has been approved once or twice

He is the best spotter

Have you seen his arms?

Can be frequently found bothering Mr.Kim

Always wearing a tank top. Always

If students aren’t feeling well, he lets them take a nap in his office

Has a special cot with soft blankets and pillows he bought himself

Does not tolerate students making fun of their peers

Has the record for the most detentions given in one day

The class ganged up one on kid who wasn’t good at the sport, so they all got detention

The kid got a free soda of their choice

Hwang Hyunjin

Drama instructor

Specializes in helping students put emotion into their lines

Musicals are his favorite

He makes the Choreo himself

Kind of strict about it ngl

Still understanding somewhat

Just... Not as much as he could be

Basically a mom to his drama kids

Gets told all the tea

The Gretchen Weiners of the staff

He knows whats happening with literally every student

Has shown up hungover a few times, just lets the student directors take charge

Will fight for the theatre department to get more funding

Makes some of the costumes himself

Talented boi

Tries to modernize everything

“Listen, I know Hamilton takes place in the boring times, but Jefferson needs some shades.”

KING of improve

Actually an amazing actor

Blows everyone's minds

Like, yeah, he’s goofy and hot, and he LOVES spilling the tea, but holy shit can he do Shakespeare

Leaves the school at exactly 3:30 PM, unless there’s practice

Has stayed till 11:30 PM once

His students worship him, trust me

Han Jisung

The cheery Kindergarten teacher whos energy rivals the kids

His classroom is an explosion of color

Loves his kiddos

Is great at calming upset little ones

Works incredibly hard

Every other teacher thinks his classroom is a total mess

Blocks everywhere, paints on every table, and nap time mats still out

If you look closely, he does have a system

Only pink paint on this table

The mats are in a specific corner

The blocks are for the kids to make words whenever they understand how to spell something

Big fan of the reward system

Has had many kids call him Dad before

Parents love him so much

Their kids come home rambling about their teacher who taught them the alphabet and they can count to five now!

His kids are pretty much little geniuses

Gets sick so often since he works with little kids

Makes sure his sub is fun

Also make sure the sub isn’t as fun as him so the kids still like him best

Found in Mr.Lee’s art room… way too much

Lee Felix

The school’s therapist

His room is the definition of Happy Yet Zen

Light yellows, pinks, and blues fill the room

Basically a pillow fort

Has a scent diffuser and let’s the student pick the essential oil 

Walks around school with a happy smile always

We know he’s Stay’s sunshine, but he’s now the students

Has a wall of cheesy jokes for students who just need something to make them laugh

Let’s students show him their special interests with no complaints

Gets into almost all of them himself, just to bond with the kids

If the kids just need somewhere to calm down, his room is almost always open

Need a twenty minute nap? He’ll put on some calming sounds and supply the pillows and blankets

The type of teacher who gives gifts to his senior students when they graduate

Always ready to show students music he thinks will help them

The other teachers love him because he brings baked goods once a week

Doesn’t care if students swear in front of him

Kim Seungmin

Middle school English teacher

Students are lowkey scared of him

But they still enjoy him alot

He frequently roasts students and other teachers alike

“Mr.Bang said he’s the best producer? Next person to have his class, tell him to check his ego.”

His favorite time is independent reading time

Mainly cause the kids know to be quite

Heaven forbid someone interrupt his reading

Every time they finish a book, the movie is played

It’s a nice break for everyone

It’s also a break for him

It’s tiring being that sassy all the time

Pretty strict grader when it comes to essays

Only because he goes over what to do super thoroughly and even a baby could do it truly

You think he wants to grade a 7 page paper? No

4 Pages maximum

Definitely has favorites

Tries his best not to show it

Everyone knows

Loves the quiet kids in the back who love reading

Reminds him of himself at that age

Ya know, a whole 5 years ago

Mr.Seo shows up in his classroom all the time, just to mess with him

The kids love it

Yang Jeongin

 The other kindergarten teacher

The admins of the school put the quieter, more nervous kids into his room

Jeongin has a very gentle personality when it comes to kids

The shy ones tend to flock to him

His classroom closely resembles a herd of sheep

Just a bunch of baby sheep hiding behind protective mama sheep

Super calm, but someone messes with his kids?

He’ll fuck you up homie

While Mr.Han’s classroom is an explosion of bright colors, Mr.Yang’s is more pastels

Parents are amazed as their kids slowly open up

Seriously, sudden their super shy kiddo has like, five other super shy friends and won’t stop rambling about  their cool teacher

Prefers a quieter way of teaching, unlike Jisung

Gentle nursery rhymes, soft blankets, no dance parties

Even though him and Mr.Han are polar opposites, they’re best friends

He calms the excitable teacher, and Han brings out his energy

It’s always funny watching the two classes interact

It’s like watching a sheep and fucking golden retriever interact

When the two classes go to gym?

Mr.Seo is in for a treat

One side of the class is screaming like madmen while running around, their teacher joining them

The other is calmly waiting for instructions on the line

Not that Mr.Han’s class is badly behaved, just… energetic

Mr.Yang just chills in the back of the gym, working on some lesson plans while his kids get their limited energy out

Nap times are the best

He sometimes joins in, but shhh, don’t tell the other teachers

Only Chris knows, and has a million photos of Mr.Yang napping at his desk while his students sleep soundly

[flowercrown-bard]

To give without knowing (9/?)

word count: ~5k

read on AO3

previous / next

"Geralt look!" Jaskier turned towards Geralt with a grin. His eyes were half-hidden behind a curtain of wet hair that he had given up on wiping out of his forehead once he had realised that the storm would render his efforts useless. "We're saved!"

Geralt grunted. Through narrowed eyes he looked at the hut in the distance, not sure if he could share Jaskier’s enthusiasm but unwilling to dim it.

Jaskier's excitement was palpable. His steps became longer and he tugged at Geralt's arm insistently.

"Come on, the quicker we get there, the faster we're going to be out of this miserable rain." When Geralt resumed at his own pace, Jaskier swatted a hand at his arm. "I’ll blame you if my boots end up ruined because of this."

Geralt’s lips quirked up. "Not much to ruin there. They were ugly when you bought them."

Jaskier squawked in indignation, but his mouth closed when Geralt patted Roach's flank. He had taken to walk beside her lately to made sure she didn't have to carry more than strictly necessary. "The old girl won't be able to make it through the mud without slipping if we're going any faster."

Something soft flashed across Jaskier's face. It looked suspiciously like pity.

"Of course," Jaskier said quietly and slowed his pace again until he walked on Roach's other side.

Geralt tried not to listen in, but he couldn't help it when Jaskier started coaxing Roach with praise and his soothing voice. No longer was Jaskier bickering with the horse for trying to nip at him and Geralt knew that Jaskier knew.

Roach had been a good horse, but age and a minor yet consequential injury had made her slow.

Slow witchers didn't live for long.

Still, Geralt couldn't bring himself to get rid of Roach just yet. It would be better for her and better for Geralt if he got himself a new horse, but the irrational part of him that talked to his horse as if she could understand him and sought comfort in burying his fingers in her mane couldn't let her go just yet.

Jaskier knew. He didn't say as much, but Geralt saw it in the way Jaskier looked at him when he stroked Roach's soft nose or in the way he snuck her more treats than usually. He heard it in the way that Jaskier didn't playfully insult Roach anymore. Jaskier knew that Geralt should give her away and he knew why he didn't.

A harsh gust of wind tore at Geralt's hair and the rain pricked his face like needles. If it was this cold and uncomfortable for Geralt, then Jaskier must be freezing. The late summer was still warm, but once the sun was hidden behind walls of clouds, it was impossible to ignore that autumn was nigh.

"Come here," Geralt said more roughly than he had aimed for.

Still, despite his tone and Jaskier's bad first experience of Geralt asking him to come closer, Jaskier obligated without hesitation. Geralt guided Jaskier to walk between him and Roach. It wasn't much better, but at least like this Jaskier would be shielded a little from the biting wind. Jaskier gave Geralt a grateful smile.

Geralt tried not to read too much into the way Jaskier leaned into him as they continued trudging through the storm. Jaskier was just seeking warmth and this, at least, Geralt was able to give him. That, of course, was the only reason why Geralt, too, shuffled closer to Jaskier.

Geralt's nerves flared up with every laboured step they took towards the hut. They needed the shelter, but there was no guarantee that whoever lived there would grant such a thing to a witcher. To Jaskier, surely. Maybe even to Roach if Jaskier put on that pleading look of his. But Geralt? He couldn't be sure. Jaskier had improved his reputation in the big cities where his songs were widely spread and popular, but in this remote place? There was no guarantee these people had even ever heard of Jaskier.

And if Geralt was turned away, he knew that there was no chance that Jaskier would stay. The pink scar on his forehead proved that much. Guilt spiked through Geralt. It had been Jaskier's choice to stand between him and the stones, but it had been Geralt's fault it had even come to that. And now, it might become Geralt's fault that Jaskier might not accept dry and warm shelter because of Geralt.

It was no use worrying. He would find out soon enough whether he would be chased away or not.

When they reached the hut, Geralt didn't move. He pressed his hand against Roach's neck as if she was the one needing reassurance, while Jaskier knocked on the wooden door. Geralt let his eyes wander over the hut. A part of the roof had very obviously been patched by someone who hadn’t known what they’d been doing and the window shutters looked as if there was a good chance of them getting torn off if the wind got any harsher. If it weren’t for the muffled sounds of worried voices from the inside, Geralt would have assumed the hut was abandoned.

The wait for the door to open felt like an eternity. The voices stopped and now the only sounds were the drumming of the rain and the bleating of sheep coming from an adjoined pen and barn. Then, hurried steps joined the noise and the door creaked open just enough to reveal an elderly woman looking at them suspiciously.

"Dear lady," Jaskier began with his charming performance smile, "you have such a lovely house. My friend and I -"

He was cut off by a sneeze. Sniffling, his smile returned, but this time it was more sheepish than suave.

Without taking a second to think about his actions, Geralt put an arm around Jaskier's shoulder, draping half of his cloak around him in the process.

The old woman's suspicion vanished in the blink of an eye and more wrinkles appeared around her eyes as she smiled.

"Oh dearie, you must be so cold." She took a step back and opened the door fully. "Come in, come in."

She ushered Jaskier inside and turned around. "Basia, come here!" she shouted over her shoulder. "Show this young man where to put his horse."

A girl who looked like she could be the old woman's grandchild appeared in the doorway, looking up at Geralt with curious brown eyes.

He nearly squirmed under the scrutiny, but then a grin broke onto the girl's face.

„She’s so pretty, can I pet her?”

Without waiting for permission, she reached out for Roach’s face. Geralt caught her wrist lightly.

“Don’t,” he said, trying to sound less gruff than normally. “She bites when you spook her.” Roach might be used to carrying bloody trophies, but on the Path a horse’s natural instincts to run away from danger were often invaluable to keep it alive. “Try it like this.”

He held out his own flat hand. Basia looked at him with big eyes and mimicked the gesture.

“Let her come to you.” Geralt let go of her wrist and watched as her eyes grew even bigger when Roach curiously sniffed her hand and nibbled gently at the girl’s sleeve. Basia turned her hand to stroke Roach’s soft nose and let out a small giggle when Roach huffed, blowing hot air at her.

“She likes you,” he stated the obvious, but it made the girl’s face light up.

“I like her too. And you. You’re nice.”

Geralt huffed, not unlike Roach and crossed his arms in front of his chest, unsure what else to do.

The girl didn’t seem to mind his awkwardness. “I’ll show you the barn.”

As if it was the most normal thing in the world, she took Roach’s reins with one hand and Geralt’s hand with her other.

His heart stuttered and he threw a panicked look at Jaskier who by now was sitting at a table inside the hut with a blanket over his head and soup thrust into his hands. Jaskier’s eyes were on Geralt and there was something unbearably soft in them. Geralt lifted a brow in question and nodded towards the girl, doing his best to convey a silent help me to Jaskier, but instead of telling him how to handle this situation, Jaskier only grinned at his discomfort. Maybe it was a little encouraging too, but mainly Jaskier just seemed to enjoy watching how a feared fighter was powerless in the presence of a little girl.

Unaware or uncaring of Geralt’s uncertainty and Jaskier’s betrayal, the girl tugged at Geralt’s hand and led him around the hut towards the barn. Geralt was already thoroughly drenched, but the girl still tried to save herself from the rain.

Once they were inside the barn, she shook her head like a wet dog, letting her locks fly into her face.

“You can put her in that box,” she said. With a harsh noise, she shooed some of the chickens fluttering about away and propped herself onto a box standing at the wall, her legs dangling over the edge. “My Pa used to have a horse, but he had to sell it after the last storm broke our roof.”

Geralt hummed with a frown.

“He’s away now,” Basia continued while Geralt but Roach in the box and began unbuckling the saddle girth. “He went into town some days ago to sell the eggs and wool but it takes him forever to get back now without the horse.”

Geralt’s brows furrowed. “He wouldn’t try to come back in this weather, would he?”

The girl shook her head. “My Pa is smart. He said not to go outside when there’s a storm. The only time he did was because some of the sheep had run away and he had to catch them. Because he’s also brave.”

Geralt offered her a small smile. “So are you, aren’t you?”

She cocked her head to the side. “I don’t think so. I want to be. But I never go outside and I never catch sheep. Storms are scary.”

Geralt’s lips twitched. “You tried to pet Roach. That’s a brave thing to do.”

Or a stupid thing, if the person in question was a bard who thought it was a good idea to approach a horse from behind and try to touch it without warning.

The girl’s nose scrunched up at the name, reminding Geralt too much of a certain bard. Had Jaskier been like this as a child? Red-cheeked and talking wide-eyed about wanting to be brave?

“Has your Pa ever taught you how to take care of a horse?”

Basia shook her head.

“Do you want to learn?”

Immediately, the girl jumped down from the box, brimming with excitement. “Really? You’ll teach me?”

Geralt hummed. “I’m not a good teacher,” he warned her, even as he offered her a brush.

Basia’s jaw was set in determination. “But I’m a good student. Gandma says so.”

And she was. She watched with hawk-eyes how Geralt brushed Roach down and rubbed the sweat and rain off of her, before mimicking everything she had seen on Roach’s other side, at least as far as she could reach.

When Geralt was satisfied and Roach was thoroughly cleaned and fed, they made their way back to the hut where the old woman promptly shoved a woolly blanket and a towel at Geralt.

“Dry your hair, dear,” she said in an unexpectedly commanding voice. “I’ll not have you get sick under my roof.”

“I can’t get sick,” Geralt protested.

The woman put her hands on her hips, but before she could scold Geralt, Jaskier pushed off the table, his chair scratching against the floor.

As he stood up, the blanket wrapped around Jaskier slid down his shoulders and it took Geralt a moment to catch up with what he was seeing.

Jaskier was no longer wearing that purple doublet that had turned dark with the rain, but modest and almost baggy looking clothes that he normally wouldn't have touched with a pole. The old woman must have been kind enough to give Jaskier some of her son's clothing.

It looked wrong somehow seeing Jaskier like this, which was strange. The discomfort at seeing Jaskier wear this didn't come from the lack of colour or fancy frills. Jaskier had stolen Geralt's clothes often enough when his own had gotten dirty or he didn't want them to tear when they had to crawl through underbrush. Geralt had never had a problem with Jaskier wearing his clothes, no matter how colourless or ill-fitting they were - sliding down Jaskier's shoulders or with sleeves that hid Jaskier's hand inside with how much too long they were.

So it didn't make sense that there was a hot iron burning around Geralt's heart at the sight of Jaskier in someone else's clothes and with tossed hair. It was probably just the bitterness of knowing that Geralt himself would need to stay in his soaked clothes - there was no chance he would fit into the stranger's clothes if they were offered and he doubted any of his spare clothes had remained safe from the rain.

“Don’t worry, Ollga,” Jaskier said with a grin. “He is stubborn as an ox. Let me.”

Geralt didn’t know whether that last part was directed at Ollga or at him, for Jaskier took the towel out of his hands and began rubbing his hair. Geralt shot him a glare. He was sure Jaskier was putting extra force behind it, too delighted to see Geralt already gobsmacked.

Jaskier only returned his glare with a wink. “I’m just taking care of you. Really, dear heart, you take more care of Roach than of yourself.”

Geralt snorted. “You say that as if you don’t jump at every opportunity to pamper me as if I was some delicate flower.”

A blush rose in Jaskier’s lips and he narrowed his eyes at Geralt, but before he had a chance to come up with a witty retort, Basia piped up.

“He didn’t take care of Roach. I did.” She jabbed a thumb proudly at her own chest.

Jaskier’s eyebrows shot up. “He let you touch Roach?”

She nodded eagerly. “He said I was brave for touching her.”

“I wholeheartedly agree.” Jaskier’s lips twitched into a grin. “Geralt, you never told me you thought I was brave.”

“That’s because you’re not. You are an idiot.” He said it with no heat. Or rather, with a different kind of heat, one he wasn’t sure he liked or wanted Jaskier to know about.

“Oh really?” Something sparkled in Jaskier’s eyes, the kind of glint that meant that Jaskier knew he had the high-ground. “Because last time I checked, I was master of the seven liberal arts.”

“You carry around a stick as if it’s an expensive jewel. You tell me which one of us is the idiot.”

“Ah, but darling, it is the stick you gave me. That makes it far more precious than any old jewel, wouldn’t you say?”

This time it was Geralt who got saved from having to come up with a retort.

“It’s adorable watching you two bicker,” Ollga said. Geralt pointedly avoided looking at Jaskier’s eyes or flushed cheeks before he said something he’d regret. “But how about we finish eating first before the soup gets cold.”

Thankful for the out, Geralt nodded. He ate in silence, as Jaskier entertained their hosts with tales of the fae and the adventures they’ve had together.

Basia listened with shining eyes and told Jaskier her own stories, about how one time her Pa had let her ride on his old horse Daisy and how she had brushed down Roach.

Jaskier leaned closer to her, as if telling her a secret. “If you give her apple slices, she’ll let you plait her hair. And she likes it when you scratch her behind the ears.”

Geralt melted a little with every word Jaskier said. For as much as he had complained about Roach over the years, it was clear that he had a soft spot for the stubborn old girl and had done everything he could to win her favour. Just as he had never given up on getting Geralt to like him.

Basia was just in the middle of telling Jaskier about her Pa, when lightning cracked outside. The girl blanched and slung her arms around herself.

“It’s alright, love,” Ollga said, “it’s just a storm. You’re safe in here. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

Basia lowered her eyes. “Did last time. When the roof came down.”

Geralt’s heart clenched painfully when he saw the fear in the girl’s eyes. Too vividly did he remember the many times he himself had been afraid as a child, with no adults who comforted him or told him that nothing bad would happen to him.

He wished he had the words to offer the comfort he had never received himself.

“Everything is going to be alright,” Jaskier declared with such a confidence that for a moment, Basia’s eyes lost that glimmer of fear. “Do you want to know why?”

“Why?” she asked in a small voice.

Jaskier held her eyes for a moment, building the suspense, before reaching into the bags he had put down next to his chair.

“Because I have this.” With that, he presented one of his treasures; the sheep. “Remember what I told you about the fae?”

Basia nodded with round eyes.

“Well, I just so happen to have been blessed by them multiple times. And this blessing here,” he held the sheep up a little higher, “makes it so that you are safe when you sleep. Since I’ve had it, I haven’t had a single nightmare or woke up because something bad had happened.”

“And it can protect you from storms?”

Jaskier grinned at her. “Of course it can. After all, Geralt and I have been stuck in the storm and then found the two nicest people this side of the Pontar to help us. If that’s not a sign that this sheep is magic, I don’t know what is.” He leaned back in his chair, looking pensive. “I was going to ask if you wanted to have it for the night, but if you don’t believe that it is magic, I don’t think you would want it.”

“I do!” Basia almost shouted.

“Basia,” Ollga scolded her and the girl gave Jaskier a sheepish smile.

A little quieter, but with no less excitement, she repeated, “I do. Can I please hold it?”

Jaskier’s smile became brilliantly bright. “Of course.”

He handed over the sheep. Geralt was sure he was the only one who noticed the hesitation before Jaskier let go. Jaskier kept his eyes trained on the wooden figure and his smile was a little strained before he smoothed it out.

“Now nothing can happen to you.”

Basia nodded, but a low rumble of thunder made her flinch again.

Geralt’s jaw tightened and his eyes flickered from Jaskier to the sheep. “It’s not complete yet.”

Jaskier’s eyebrows shot up and Basia cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

Geralt squirmed a little in his seat. “It’s a gift from the fae, but you have to do something to make it yours. So it knows who to protect.”

His eyes darted back to Jaskier, silently asking for permission. He needn’t have worried. Jaskier’s eyes were soft and almost adoring.

“Of course, how could I forget! Maybe Geralt was right after all and I am an idiot.” But he wasn’t. Jaskier was so clever, brilliant even, catching on and playing along without missing a beat. “What do you say, we try to make the sheep a bit fluffier?”

Geralt’s lips quirked up. “You said your father sells wool?” he asked, though his eyes were on Ollga, who gave him a grateful nod, her hand resting fondly on her granddaughter’s shoulder.

“I’ll go get some.”

Attaching the wool to Friend wasn’t as easy as Geralt had imagined. But as Basia and Jaskier worked together to give the sheep some wool, laughter rang through the hut, almost loud enough to drown out the sounds of the storm raging outside. The child was thoroughly distracted and by the time they were done and the sheep resembled a cloud more than a wooden sheep, night had fallen outside and Basia was yawning unabashedly.

Ollga brushed her hand through the girl’s curls. “Time for bed, hm?”

Basia nodded, but before she followed her grandmother to the only other room, she pressed the sheep against her chest and turned to Jaskier. “It’s so smoft now!”

Geralt’s inside turned to something soft when he saw Jaskier lower his head for a second to hide his laugh.

“It sure is,” Jaskier agreed once he caught himself again.

Basia ran her ran over the sheep, but her brows were drawn together in concern. “But do you think it’s enough? Does the sheep know now that you borrowed it to me?”

“Hmm,” Jaskier made and ran his fingers through his hair, pretending to think. “There is one more thing I think I need to do. Did you know that the fae love songs? If I sing a song about sheep to you, I am sure the fae will accept that for tonight the sheep is yours.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispered in warning. “As much as you love that song, I don’t think the fishmonger’s daughter is appropriate.”

Jaskier gasped in indignation. “Geralt, what do you think of me? That song isn’t even about sheep. I’m not an amateur.”

Softly, Jaskier began to sing. It was a simple melody, clearly made up on the spot and designed to make a child fall asleep, but Geralt listened enraptured. “Sleep, darling, sleep. I’m giving you a sheep. With white wool and a friendly smile To hug, so you can sleep a while Sleep, darling, sleep.”

As Jaskier's melody rang through the tiny room and Basia's heartbeat calmed, Geralt felt himself transported back to all the different times he himself had lain awake at night.

Geralt was no stranger to nightmares or dark thoughts preventing him from falling asleep. He also was no stranger of hiding such things. He hadn't thought that Jaskier could have ever realised that Geralt was suffering from nightmares, but now that he thought about it, he remembered soft humming in the dead of night. Geralt had always thought that that was just Jaskier being unable to keep a new composition to himself no matter the time of night. But now as he watched Jaskier sing a girl out of her fear, Geralt wasn't so sure anymore. “Sleep, darling, sleep. You’re bleating like a sheep When you sleep you’re snoring I’ll wake you in the morning Sleep, darling, sleep.“

By the end of Jaskier’s lullaby, Basia’s eyelids had dropped and Ollga just about managed to keep her awake for long enough to get her to bed and tuck her in.

Geralt and Jaskier remained awkwardly standing at the table. They exchanged looks and Jaskier lifted his shoulders, clueless as to what they were supposed to do now.

It didn't take long for Ollga to appear again. She pulled the door to the bedroom close quietly so as not to wake the sleeping girl. Then she turned towards them with an apologetic expression.

"I am afraid that's our only bedroom," she nodded towards the door behind her. "I wish I could offer you a bed, you have been so kind to the child, but there's nothing -"

"Don't worry." Jaskier stepped forward and touched her arm briefly in comfort. You have already been kinder to us than most people would have been in your place. Geralt and I don't mind not sleeping in beds. If you'll allow us to stay the night, we could sleep in the barn? "

Geralt's eyes widened and it took a great effort not to make a surprised sound. He knew that Jaskier was used to not sleeping in beds, of course, but it hadn't occurred to him that Jaskier would be the one to suggest sleeping surrounded by animals when he could instead be sleeping in the kitchen in front of a hearth.

He forced his heart to remain calm when Jaskier looked at him for confirmation and nodded.

"Roach gets anxious during storms. She'll be happy about having some company."

-

The storm didn't let up as they made themselves comfortable in Roach's box. They lay close to her, close enough to touch and calm her whenever she threw her head back with rolling eyes when thunder clapped, and used the hay in lieu of a mattress.

It wasn't perfect. The rain drummed onto the roof and the wind howled through the cracks in the walls, but Geralt couldn't have been more comfortable.

At least, until Jaskier started tossing and turning. With every minute they spent in the barm, more and more of the facade of carefree confidence from before fell away until Jaskier was shaking and wincing almost as much as Basia had whenever the thunder roared.

Something tightened in Geralt's chest. The last time he had seen Jaskier like this in the late hours had been months ago, when he had carved the sheep for him. Since then, not a night had passed that Jaskier hadn't had Friend close to him in his sleep.

Jaskier's frantic heartbeat was louder than the storm to Geralt's ears.

He wanted to help. But he didn't have the time or the wood to carve another protector for Jaskier and he didn't have a soothing voice like Jaskier did to sing or talk him to sleep. There was nothing he could do. Nothing but –

"Jaskier?" he asked quietly. He was Jaskier's friend and he would be a poor one if he didn't try - if he didn't at least offer -

"Yeah?" Jaskier's voice didn't tremble, but it was a damn near thing.

Geralt wasn't soft. Nor was he friendly looking. But Jaskier had said... Months ago he had said there was one way to help him sleep peacefully.

"I can hold you," Geralt said stiffly. The words sounded wooden and not at all like the beautiful images Jaskier had conjured up in Geralt's mind back then with his words.

Jaskier turned to him. Pieces of hay were stuck in his hair and had left an abstract pattern on his skin. He looked like a mess. He looked beautiful.

"You would do that?"

Geralt swallowed thickly. He wanted to look away, but forced himself to keep eye contact. He couldn't mess this up. If Jaskier gave any sign of not wanting this, Geralt couldn't miss it.

"If you wanted to."

Jaskier smiled and the sun broke forth from the clouds in the midst of a thunderstorm.

Geralt opened his arms a little and without a hint of hesitation, Jaskier scooted closer and pressed himself against Geralt, nuzzling his face into his chest.

"Thank you," he whispered and his lips brushed Geralt. Even through the thin fabric of his shirt, it set his skin ablaze. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. The only thing he could do was tighten his arms around Jaskier and close his eyes as he buried his nose in Jaskier's hair.

Behind them, Roach snorted softly as she drifted off to sleep.

This should have been perfect. Geralt was holding Jaskier in his arms - he was being a good friend, a kind and comforting person - he was warm and dry and Roach was happy.

So why did his heart grow so heavy?

He knew. In his heart of hearts, he knew even though he did not yet dare to allow the thought into his mind or past his lips.

But Jaskier knew it too.

His finger started to draw soothing circles onto Geralt’s chest and playing with his medallion. It was distracting, painfully so. Geralt lost himself on Jaskier's touch and suddenly, as if a damn had broken, the words flooded out if his mouth, not many but enough to know the inevitable was coming.

"Roach likes this stable. It's dry. Bigger than the ones at most inns."

Jaskier nodded against him. "Do you think the chickens and her would get along? Because I like to think the chickens would take my place as the obligatory annoyance Roach has to deal with to keep her occupied."

A low chuckle rumbled through Geralt's chest.

Jaskier smiled against him and continued, "Basia would talk to Roach like a certain someone."

Geralt snorted. "The child would spoil her like another certain someone."

Jaskier chuckled. "The poor old lady wouldn't have a minute or peace."

"Who? Roach or Ollga?"

"Both. Obviously. But they would also be happy. Basia is a good kid."

Geralt hummed in agreement. "Her father is in need of a horse."

"She would probably go to Roach for comfort during the next storm."

"She's a brave girl. She would comfort Roach."

Jaskier was quiet for a moment and Geralt had to squeeze his eyes shut to stop the burning in them. Witchers couldn't cry. Sometimes he wished they could.

"Geralt?" Jaskier asked quietly, his fingers wandering up to Geralt's hair and running through them in calming motions.

It was no longer Geralt that comforted Jaskier.

"I'm going to leave her here." The words felt wrong, even though he knew they needed to be said. No weight was lifted off his chest and no sudden relief washed over him. He just felt tired. "It's for the best. When Basia's father comes back he'll take care of Roach and Basia will talk to her and be there for her."

Jaskier's fingers halted for a second. When Jaskier spoke again, his voice sounded unsure and serious. "Geralt, she's not going to replace you. You know that, don't you?"

Geralt didn't reply.

Jaskier lifted his head and propped himself up on his elbows so he could look Geralt in the eyes. He was leaning over him. Not caging him in, but shielding him from the world.

"You're not replaceable, Geralt. Just as little as she is replaceable to you."

Geralt let out a mirth less laugh. "That's a bad example."

"Why?" Jaskier challenged. "Because you are going to buy a new horse? Because you are going to give the next one the same name? That means nothing, Geralt. You can't deny that she's important to you. As was the last one. As will the next one be."

Geralt remained quiet, but his hands pulled Jaskier closer to him. He hoped Jaskier understood the silent gesture as the thanks that it was. Geralt was sure he did. Jaskier always understood.

He settled back against Geralt and hummed softly.

Slowly the storm quieted down but Jaskier stayed snuggled against Geralt. Sniffles that had nothing to do with having gotten caught in the rain interrupted his humming until he gave up fully.

"I will miss her," Jaskier said for the both of them. "She is a wonderful friend, the old shrew."

Is, not was. It made something in Geralt's chest loosen, made him finally feel lighter.

"I'll leave Friend with Basia," Jaskier said and turned his face so Geralt couldn't see it.

He didn't need to, in order to know how devastated Jaskier was at the thought alone and yet he had sounded determined.

A frown darkened Geralt's face. "Why? You love - that sheep is important to you."

Jaskier didn't try to deny it. "Of course it is. And Roach is important to you." He gave a wet laugh. "To me too, if you can believe it. I want her to have something to remember us by."

"Don't worry," Geralt whispered in Jaskier's hair and it felt like a confession. "You are not someone who’s easy to forget."

Jaskier let out a shuddering breath that send chills down Geralt's spine when it hit his bare neck.

"I'm going to tell Basia she can keep the sheep," Jaskier said firmly. "To keep her safe so she can always look after Roach."

"And what about you?"

Jaskier lifted his head just enough that Geralt could see the unwavering trust and sincerity in his eyes.

"I have you. And you'll have me too."

---

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[seita]

— bnha abc's: hitoshi shinsou [angst edition].

well, finally the angst! i have no idea what character i’ll do next but we shall see...

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ɴsғᴡ ᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ | ғʟᴜғғ ᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ

⤑ 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! | 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬  

A- Accident, Would they blame themselves if you died in an accident?

∴ unless he was the reason you were involved then no. ∴ he wouldn’t search for correlation to himself in the event of an accident. ∴ he’s not looking to throw a pity party for himself. ∴ you were the one who was dead, after all.

B- Break up, How would they deal with one?

∴ it depends on the relationship. ∴ if it was long term, a few years together then he’s pretty broken up about it ∴ and will probably take a while to get himself back on the market ∴ but a relationship that’s only been a handful of months ∴ he figures it’s best to just move on from it.

C-Crying, Are they much of a crier?

∴ no not at all, really. ∴ sure, he feels sad but tears never fall from his eyes. ∴ however, if there is something traumatic that happens. ∴ he may shed a few tears into his pillow as he goes to sleep.

D-Death, How do they deal with any death?

∴ pretty well, actually ∴ he finds a way to cope so he can move on as quickly as possible ∴ that’s not to say he doesn’t mourn or just erase their memory ∴ he just moves to work past being broken up about it ∴ he doesn’t want to go through his days with the heavy weight of a death on his mind ∴ the type of guy to visit graves and leave flowers for his loved ones once a month.

E-Emotion, What’s the emotion they tend to push away the most?

∴ anger. ∴ he doesn’t like to be angry and he doesn’t like to show anyone his anger ∴ that’s not always possible so he’ll remove himself from situations that make him angry ∴ he’ll go somewhere private where he can let his anger out without prying eyes. ∴ he feels like shit after losing his temper so he’ll apologize or you’ll have to console him and let him know it’s okay to be angry ∴ he’s human and bottling it up isn’t healthy ∴ he agrees but...tbh nothing changes.

F-Frustrated, How much would it take to push them off the edge?

∴ it truly depends. ∴ day-to-day, he doesn’t really get ticked off or upset easily ∴ he’s pretty patient tbh ∴ but in an event where he worked hard for something ∴ or he really, really had a drive to do something (like get into the hero course) ∴ and he fails to do it ∴ he is pretty easily set off. ∴ but he pushes past and works 10x harder than before until he accomplishes his goal. ∴ he’s a driven man.

G-Great Pain, What is the most painful thing they have witnessed?

∴ when he became a pro, the first time he failed to defeat a villain ∴ and many civilians perished as a result ∴ it’s something that absolutely haunts him. ∴ he had nightmares for weeks afterwards ∴ he fully went to a therapist ∴ like he was fucked up over it ∴ to this day, if he’s reminded of it he will literally get so anxious and depressed, even though he’s seen lots of casualties since then ∴ it was just that first failure that fucks him up.

H-Humiliation, How could they be humiliated?

∴ being cheated on. ∴ the idea that he wasn’t good enough, to the point his lover had to find someone else. ∴ that really damages his sense of self worth and self esteem which is already a bit low to begin with. ∴ he’d feel like there was something wrong with him and now everyone knew he was defective.

I-Injured, How do they handle themselves when injured?

∴ very calm and collected. ∴ he figures there’s no real reason to lose his head over it. ∴ panicking will only make the situation worse. ∴ if it’s a bad injury, he’ll seek help as fast as he can. ∴ if its a superficial wound he’ll probably handle it himself.

J-Jittery, Which part of their past makes them flinch or even worked up?

∴ his childhood. ∴ he was the target for teasing and bullying due to his quirk. ∴ so if anything reminds him of those times, he gets really down ∴ he doesn’t like spiral into depression or anything ∴ but he’ll feel anxious and self conscious until the moment passes

K-Kill, Would they kill for revenge?

∴ no, never. ∴ he’s worked so hard to become a pro hero that he wouldn’t want to jeopardize it by some sort of misconduct as that. ∴ also, he has been accused of having potential to become a villain ∴ and he doesn’t want to give anyone ammunition for that.

L- Loss, What was their greatest loss?

∴ he hasn’t actually experienced much loss in terms of losing anyone to death. ∴ when he was a child, he had a friend before his quirk manifested ∴ and accidentally used it on them, unsure of how to control it ∴ and it scared the other boy so bad he stopped being friends with him ∴ that hurt shinsou pretty badly. ∴ he also probably lost a pet dog, which was traumatic because of how  much he depended on the furry animal for comfort

M- Mistakes, How much do they want to fix the mistakes of their past?

∴ shinsou isn’t the type of person who will do things that have the potential for regret ∴ he thinks his decisions over thoroughly and runs through all options before choosing the most logical one ∴ of course, he fucks up sometimes but ∴ he stands by his decisions, confident that he did the best possible thing he could have. ∴ being a pro hero doesn’t allow for him to regret things -- if he stops to mourn every civilian loss, for example, he would only be run into the ground. ∴ that doesn’t help anyone.

N-Need, How would they react if you needed emergency surgery?

∴ calm and collected ∴ especially if you’re scared ∴ then he’s going to make sure he’s a pillar for you to lean on ∴ that’s not to say on the inside he isn’t losing his mind ∴ bc he def is ∴ he just finds it counterproductive to stress you out while you’re already scared of the surgery ∴ it would get neither of you anywhere good ∴ once you’re in surgery, he’d be anxious as he waited. ∴ he’s check the time and refuse to leave the hospital until the doctor announces you’re safe.

O-Outrage, What makes them angry?

∴ betrayal. ∴ shinsou, when he trusts, he trusts hard. ∴ he puts his faith into them and expects them to stand by his side ∴ so if, for example, you used an insecurity of his against him in an argument. ∴ or cheated on him. ∴ or spilled a secret he told you in confidence ∴ he will be pissed. depending on how bad it was, he’s liable to break up with you. ∴ naturally, once his trust is broken, however, it’s near impossible to fix ∴ so good luck getting your relationship back to how it used to be lol

P-Pressure, What stresses them out to the breaking point?

∴ training ∴ he works hard to better himself to become the best hero possible ∴ but it stresses him out that he’s not improving fast enough, he’s not doing enough, he’s falling behind others ∴ he’s really hard on himself and his drive only makes the thought of failure terrifying to him. ∴ he doesn’t want to fuck up and lose his chance at his dream.

Q- Qualify, What part of themselves do they see as dangerous?

∴ his quirk, naturally. ∴ it’s a pretty dangerous quirk but ∴ truthfully, everyone’s quirk is dangerous in some way. ∴ it’s just that he’s always been trated as if his quirk was the worst possible outcome he could have been born with. ∴ so he feels like his quirk is the Most Dangerous.

R-Rock, What weighs them down?

∴ the idea that his quirk, very well could be a villains quirk. ∴ he worries that he might abuse it by accident and fuck everything up ∴ his quirk is different from combat quirks or rescue quirks ∴ he can control people. he can lock them into their own minds and force their bodies to do anything he wants without having to lift a finger. and there’s nothing they can do it about it. ∴ that scares him. ∴ it’s such a powerful quirk ∴ and it’d be so easy to abuse it ∴ he worries about his own morality at times, due to all the times he’s been called a villain ∴ it makes him doubt himself even though he knows himself better than that.

S-Sorrow, Would they feel empty after your death?

∴ very much so. ∴ shinsou is the type who gives himself completely to relationships ∴ whether it’s platonic or romantic, he puts 100% in. ∴ so to lose someone he had cared for so completely ∴ leaves him with a devastating emptiness ∴ he’s not going to know how to fill the gap your presence left behind for a long time.

T-Time, What if they had a limited time to live?

∴ he wouldn’t panic ∴ he’d spend the time doing everything he needed to do ∴ like see his mother, hang out with his friends, eat his favorite food, spend a night with you ∴ he’d be determined to make sure he wouldn’t regret wasting the time he had left ∴ so he does everything he feels is necessary for having the happiest time that he has left.

U-Urge, How badly do they get the urge to see you after separating?

∴ on a day to day basis, not much ∴ he’s very good at occupying his mind and thinking logically about whether it makes sense to see you or not. ∴ most of the time it’s not. ∴ he’s not the type to go crawling back to his ex unless it’s something he needs to fix with you. ∴ but at night, when he cant sleep ∴ his mind will automatically wander to you ∴ thinking about how it felt when just a few days, weeks, months ago you were curled up beside him in bed.

V-Vent, How do they get rid of feelings they find unnecessary?

∴ he’s actually really damn good at communication ∴ he is so good at just talking things through ∴ it helps him sort his thoughts and it keeps him calm, rather than getting worked up and upset ∴ he prefers to have healthy ways to release his negative emotions

W-Wild card, A random angst headcannon.

∴ when the bullying over his quirk got worse the older he got ∴ as people started to look at him like he was going to harm them ∴ he got frustrated, angry even ∴ he went off on his mom -- blaming her for giving him such a shitty, terrible quirk ∴ he said some extremely hurtful things in his anger ∴ and the picture of his mom’s hurt face over his words drives him insane ∴ to this day, he still feels like he’s trying to make it up to her. ∴ truthfully, it’s been forgiven and forgotten for a long time but ∴ he doesn’t believe he deserves that just yet.

X- X-ray, What makes them transparent? How obvious can they get around something they hate?

∴ you really will not know when this guy hates you ∴ he seems to have mostly just, cold indifference to majority of people ∴ so him hating you; being ignored or treated coldly ∴ will literally not even make you feel hated ∴ it just seems like his default ∴ he’s pretty open about his opinions though ∴ so if you talk about something and ask what he thinks of it ∴ if he hates it, like a movie, he’ll just come right out and say it tbh ∴ so he’s like 50/50 transparent.

Y-Yearning, Do old memories make them yearn for your touch?

∴ yes. ∴ shinsou is the type of guy to look through his phone at old texts and pictures ∴ when he lies in bed at night, he thinks of his fondest memories ∴ he won’t actively seek you out if it’s not logical -- like if you’re an ex. ∴ but if you’re available for him, he’ll seek you out with a deep craving for you. ∴ he wants to make more memories while he can.

Z-Zest, Add your own letters!

[Parents Headcanon] ∴ when he was a baby, his father left him and his mom ∴ that left his mom to take care of a baby all on her own ∴ she was a young mom too, had him pretty early in life; about 18 or so. ∴ so she struggled really badly ∴ he regrets all the trouble he gave her when he was naive to the struggles of parenthood ∴ once he got older and realized how much his mom did for him ∴ he began to work hard around the house so she could relax when she got home from work, cooked dinner, and never asked for anything he didn’t absolutely need ∴ he absolutely adores his mom ∴ and the idea of ever being without her terrifies him.

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© all content belongs to seita 2020. do not modify or repost.

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 11: Discharge Plan

Characters: Captain Syverson x OFC (Shane Dawson)

Summary: The highs of Shane and Sy’s first weekend as a couple are followed up by some big news from Sy, leading to our couple’s first fight.

Don’t miss a session! Click here to catch up on this story or explore my other works!

Word Count: 2.7

Warnings:  Language, mature themes, smut, sort of unprotected sex, rough-ish sex, angst, alcohol consumption,

Author’s Note: First off, I wanna talk about the word “victuals.” I’ve loved this word for a long time, even though it makes no sense, phonetically as it actually rhymes with the “fiddles” or “riddles.”(It’s true, look it up!) It’s very pastoral and somewhat archaic, so you don’t hear it too much anymore in current writing about the present, but I just felt like Sy would say it. Secondly, it was really hard for me to put my darlings through the argument in this chapter. I want them to have only happy times…but that provides no tension or motivation for story development…and I want to keep writing them more than I want them to be happy… I guess I finally understand why authors torture their characters! Lol! It might take a bit of time for me to sort out what their relationship looks like adding the distance factor, but I have some ideas that might work. Also, it might be an opportunity to do a bit more of Sy’s perspective, which I thoroughly enjoy, and may go back and fill in some blanks for him in between chapters I’ve already done. I hope you all enjoy this installment of the Treatment of Captain Syverson! Feedback in any form is always appreciated!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

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The rest of the weekend was spent in blissful relaxation. Sy went to his place to feed Aika and bring her over at Shane's insistence. The dog had been slightly standoffish with her, but Sy assured her that it was in her nature to be aloof, and that she needed to be engaged or instructed to behave more doglike.

"It's her training. She's still a soldier. It's hard for us to shake those habits. Like me calling you 'ma'am' at first."

"She's another die hard. I respect that." she chuckled, scratching Aika behind her perked ears, and eliciting pants of contentment from her.

Sy's skills with a spatula were unmatched. That was to say, he made the best pancakes she'd ever had. They almost didn't need syrup…almost. They ordered an obscene amount of Chinese takeout which lasted them about three meals each. Sunday evening, though, which had a gloom to it no matter the circumstances, required some comfort food. They agreed on pasta, so Shane made up some of her famous alfredo sauce and probably twice the recommended portion of pasta for two humans to consume. There were no leftovers. Sy had three helpings, himself. Three heaping bowls of it. Shane couldn't handle more than one and a half servings, even though she wanted to gorge herself. She knew too much would make her ill.

When they weren't eating, the were cuddling on the couch, or in Shane's bed. They watched more Parks and Rec, and a few other films and shows that Sy requested, just to break things up. Their bodies were constantly wrapped in each other, leading to frequent bouts of making out, fooling around, and sex in almost every room of the house.

Her favorite had been the shower. She insisted on getting cleaned up, but Sy had objections.

~~~~~~~~

"I'll be less than ten minutes, come on, I reek! You can't wanna kiss me when I smell like this!" she said, trying to shut the bathroom door on the human mack truck before her. Broad and formidable.

"You smell like sex, and…me, darlin. I've never wanted to kiss you more," he said, backing her up toward the shower doors. "but I guess if you must. Lemme help, though." he pulled open the glass door, forcing her into his captivating kiss, and maneuvering her backward into the walk-in, stone tile shower. He pulled off her tank top, capturing her breasts in his hands and mouth for a moment before kneeling to remove her shorts and kiss her thighs. He pulled himself away too quickly and started the water flowing.

"Sy, you're fully dressed!" he was barefoot, but otherwise, in jeans and her favorite of his tees. The letters DILLIGAF across a skull, black on red. She always laughed on the inside when she saw it. Because although Sy often had to put on a calloused and brusque act when he'd been an officer in the Army, he was terribly soft and sweet when the occasion called for it. The irony being that although he didn't look like he gave a fuck, he actually did.

"I've got more clothes in the truck and you've got a dryer." he maneuvered her under the pulsing stream of the showerhead. "Gotta get you wet." he let the water run through her hair as he reached for her shampoo, a coconutty concoction that reminded her of summer, squeezed a bit into his hand, and lathered it up. He worked the suds into her wet hair gently, raking his nails across her scalp in a way that excited and ignited every atom in her. She sighed at his touch which made him groan with need.

He tilted her head back to rinse the lather out and reached for the conditioner. He was a bit more generous with it than strictly necessary, but she didn't protest. He pulled her hair forward in two sections, one over each shoulder and worked the emollient into the strands. His hands slick from the product, he ran them over her breasts and her abdomen and hips…between her legs. There her own arousal was primed to combine with the tropical unction. She gasped as he worked his fingers over her, slow at first, but speeding up, only to slow again. When she finally whimpered in frustration, he undid his jeans, and backed her up to the stony grey wall, not giving a fuck, as his shirt had suggested, that he and his clothes were getting soaked. His only care now apparently, was to satisfy the simpering cries of "yes, please." from Shane.

His first few thrusts were slow and measured, knowing that she was still adjusting to his size. But it didn't take long for him to lose control. She wasn't sure what was making him like this, but she was not complaining in the least. The texture of his jeans on her bare, wet thighs was a sensation she wouldn't soon forget. She gripped at him, holding onto his shirt for dear life as her climax built to impossible heights.

She was loving the way he lost himself in the ferocity of the act. And his release led to hers immediately. She wrapped herself around him in blissful embrace, and whispered his name as a prayer.

"Sorry, darlin,' I meant to…"

"It's okay. I'm on the pill and I'm not at a particularly dangerous time in my cycle."

He kissed her tenderly and reached for her bath puff and some body wash. "Well, let’s get ya cleaned up."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The only good part about Monday was that she'd be treating him. Although, he was scheduled in the afternoon. Her morning would drag on eternal.

He greeted her with a typical "hey, susnshine" and she led him into the gym, feeling his gaze on her ass, wanting, even though they'd just left each other quite satisfied that morning. He was freshly showered, beard well groomed, and his hair growing back in very nicely. He'd asked her weeks ago whether he should keep the buzzed look or not, and she had been entirely for growing it out. She wanted something to run her hands through. She'd be fine if it was at least shoulder length, but she wouldn't push that on him.

They did their normal warm up on the bikes, followed by some plyometric drills, which made him scowl at her in a way that lit her up like a firecracker. But the fact that he was able to jump up onto the box was encouraging. He couldn't have done that a month ago. He was progressing so well and was so close to his long term goals and discharge. It almost made Shane sad. It wasn't as though they wouldn't see each other, but having him break up the insanity of her day three times a week for just an hour was invaluable.

As they were doing their usual end of the session stretch in her treatment room, and she noted the improved range of motion he was getting, he broke the amiable silence with a question.

"Hey, can I bring a pizza or somethin' over for dinner tonight after you get off?"

"Sure!" she could tell there was something he wanted to say, but was holding back. She prodded. "Everything okay? You've been a bit…off today."

"I'm good. Just a little distracted." he deflected by touching her hip, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. She swatted him away.

"Not here, Sy."

"But that makes it fun!" he pouted.

"No, that really could get me fired! Getting frisky on company time!"

"Mmmm, I'd love to frisk you right now." he reached between their legs to try and grab her again, but she thwarted him and pinned his wrists at his ears.

"Cool it, cowboy, or your last two sessions are gonna make you wish you'd never met me." she threatened.

"Ain't nothin', nothin' on God's good green earth could make me wish that, sunshine." His stunning blue eyes softened her resolve and she let go, continuing to stretch him.

"Still…cool it." she grinned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She'd just had time to change into some comfy clothes, wash her face, and put her hair up when her doorbell rang.

Sy stood smiling under the porch light, a modern white knight, carrying a large pizza from Pizza Hut and a six pack of Miller High Life.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes! And it's nice to see you too, Sy!" she laughed, teasing him.

"Should I leave the victuals and go?" he asked, mock concern on his sarcastic brow.

"Get in here, soldier."

She got out napkins and paper plates because as horrible as it sounded, she just couldn't think about doing dishes tonight. She was even glad Sy had brought drinks in disposable or recyclable containers, and not wine, which she tended to prefer. She was exhausted, but not upset, which made the silence they ate in bearable. Sy still seemed to have something on his mind, though.

"Did you have something you wanted to talk about tonight, Sy?"

"Kinda, yeah, uh…it's kind of a big thing for me, and I know this is new, what we have, but…well, I'll just tell ya."

"Go on." she encouraged, worried.

"I…I talked to my old CO about jobs in the private sector. He referred me to a company that…well it's sort of an employment agency for vets. Mostly security for private companies and individuals. I had a phone interview with them this past Tuesday. I just got a call this morning that they want to meet me in person to finalize everything. Mostly a formality. When I go for that, I'll also have to stay there a couple of weeks to a month for training."

"Where is this…gig?" She said, flat affect hiding the feelings brewing under her skin.

"The offices are in Charlottesville…Virginia. And there may be some cross country training there in Shenandoah National Park."

"Cross country…by that do you mean survival training?" She was still cool, but getting more livid.

"You could call it that, I guess. But it won't be a challenge for me. I'm more worried about the technical stuff." His bravado and flippancy about the whole endeavor was enraging her. The thought that he'd be in the wilderness alone, was only a fraction of the big picture. He was going away for a month? And he had known about the job for a week now. A week in which so much about their relationship had changed, and shifted. How could he think she'd just accept this without a bit of raging.

"You waited until after we slept together to tell me this. You did it on purpose, Sy." that was the biggest problem, she thought. The fact that he seemed to be hiding it from her. It brought back old trauma that she thought he'd never have subjected her to.

"Yes and no, Shane. I wasn't intentionally keeping anything from you, I just didn't wanna bring it up until somebody bit."

"You wanted to keep me in the dark about something you were excited about? How do you think that makes me feel?"

"I didn't wanna get your hopes up or mine. Honestly."

"Saying 'honestly' doesn't make it honest, Sy. I've told you about everything that Elliott put me through. The lies. The secrets. This puts a bad taste in my mouth. You have to see that. Can't you?"

"Oh, sunshine, I--"

"No, please. Do not do that right now. Don't call me sunshine when all I can see is the night."

"I'm so sorry. My intention was not to make you feel in any way like that asshole ever did. Please hear me when I say that. I want to be the opposite of him in your mind in every way, darlin.' Please believe that."

There was so much sincerity in his voice, now nearing tearfulness that she felt he must be telling her the truth. She nodded. But was still apprehensive about the nature of the job and the training.

"But…what if you get hurt again?"

"I won't. You've all but fixed me, Shane. I'm stronger than ever."

"Can't you just…find a safe job? Here?" She was being selfish. She couldn't help it. Even though she knew she might regret it.

"Sit at a desk, ya mean? Deliver pizzas?" he indicated the box between them on the table. "Call people and ask them if they're happy with their cable services, Shane? Is that all I'm good for now?" he was angry.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"No, of course not. You're a PT. That's what you were meant to do, right? Well, imagine if you couldn't do that no more. Something or another, an injury, perhaps, or just plain ol' shitty situation, left you in a position where you couldn't go back. Couldn't do your dream job. Couldn't fulfill your purpose." he spat. "Wouldn't you do anything you could to be some shadow of what you were meant to be?"

She couldn't speak. Because he was right in so many ways.

"Because right now, I'm nothin'. I'm not doin' anyone any good. I'm a drain on my country, the one I swore to protect with my very life. It's like I've broken an oath. And it's fractured my soul."

"I see that. I truly do. But I need you here. You do ME good, Sy. I'm already half dreading d/c'ing you. I don't wanna have to say a goodbye, too." it was her truth. But it hit him very much sideways.

"So…what is it, Shane? You only want me when I'm broken? You only want me so you can fix me?"

"No, of course not! That's not what--"

"Am I a charity case to ya now? Is that why ya finally gave in and let me in your bed?"

"Sy, no!" she was crying now. It had hurt so much to think that he could have gotten that from what she'd said.

"I think if you can have feelings hurt about this situation then so can I."

He stood to leave, but she caught him by the wrist.

"Shane…you know I would never, ever harm you. But please… don't test my limits. Let… go." She did.

She was still quite a bit faster than him, so she ran ahead and blocked the door.

"Move." he insisted. She didn't.

"Hear me out, and then I'll let you go."

He crossed his arms and nodded, his gaze still one of cold steel.

"Sy, I didn't mean to make this job that you're clearly excited for into a source of anguish or to make it about me. I'm thrilled that you're going to get to do something you want in another field. I really am. I just…being with you has made me realize how good life can really be. And even if you'd told me before we slept together, I would have said the same thing. It was selfish of me to haul my baggage into the conversation when you aren't, have never been, and could never be Elliot. His best couldn't compare with your worst. And I will do my best in the future to think about who you are before I complain about the work you find to do."

"It's like I said about Aika before. She's a soldier. Hard trained. And so am I. It took a lot of hard work for me to get where I am, so much that it fundamentally altered who I am as a person. Now, in my opinion, those changes were for the better. I was kind of a shit before I became a soldier, thought the sun rose and set with me. I got some perspective and met some good people…lost some, too. Saw some shit I can't unsee. Some of it haunts me to this day, and I figure it always will. But I reckon if I can keep fighting the fight somehow. Keep protecting people in whatever way I can, my training and experience won't be a total waste."

"I understand and respect that, Sy. And I will back you in any way I can. I'll water your plants, I'll keep Aika whenever you're gone, I'm here for you."

"Oh, shit! I wasn't even thinking about having to leave my dog behind! Maybe this WON'T work!" he chuckled.

"Second fiddle to another woman already. I knew you were gonna break my heart, Captain Logan Syverson."

"Never intentionally, sunshine." he hugged her, tight, and with his whole body. Their argument in the past and their future an exciting mystery. Shane had never felt so safe and loved.

Up Next: Chapter 12: Final Home Exercise Program

[myghostmonument]

13xReader: Inhibitions

Notes: I’ve been writing a lot more “canon” pieces recently (non-readers, posted on my ao3), but it feels nice to go back to my fandom roots, so to speak, and finish off some requests like this one! Each style has its own challenges to work through, and it’s fun to move between them and keep things interesting. I plan to keep writing for both, so no worries to anyone who prefers one over the other. This is, as always, gender-neutral for the reader, and is also border-line a disaster!reader fic, a loose characterization style created by the incredible @lilaccoats​ that I stole bc she loves me 

Summary: The Doctor takes you and the fam to a trendy bar, promising a night of relaxation and fun. Shenanigans ensue when you maybe-not-so-accidentally get a little too inebriated. 

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, drunkenness, hangovers, mentions of vomit, and attempted assault. It’s more an uncomfortable conversation than anything, and nothing graphic happens, but please be warned!

WC: 7500 please don’t look at me like that I just picked at it to unwind as I worked on my zine piece and it got entirely out of hand honk honk goes the clown mobile 

The decision to go to a bar had been Ryan’s. That alone, that the destination had been picked during his turn, ought to have been enough forewarning; it seemed that whenever a trip went sideways, it almost always fell on Ryan’s turn (or the Doctor’s, but you and the others excluded that data — her choices were always catastrophes and not worth including in the risk analysis amongst yourselves).

But faced with the usual question of “where and when to next?”, Ryan had requested a bar, and the Doctor had delivered. You had landed on an asteroid, which according to the Doctor was the location of a top-notch bar, situated along a very popular intergalactic trading route. It was certainly busy, as you all left the TARDIS in an alley and approached the sleek, shiny building; there was a short queue to get in, but people — aliens and humans both — congregated in clumps around it and as you moved through the line and entered the bar, you even looked up and noticed people on the roof.

“So,” Yaz said, propping a hip against the bar counter and taking in the sights. “This is where the great Ryan Sinclair works his magic.” She let her eyes rove around the noisy crowd, and grinned over at Ryan. “You feeling right at home then?”

Ryan shot her a scowl, his hands shoved firmly in his pockets. “Ha ha,” he said. “This is not what I had in mind when I suggested drinks.”

“What?” The Doctor asked, looking around at him. “Really? I thought I did all right.” She put her hands on her hips, surveying the crowded, noisy bar.

“Well I think it’s great Doc,” Graham said, already perusing a menu with interest. She beamed at him.

“Thank you, I try my best,” she said. She had her hands in her coat pockets, something that usually indicated she was being (or feeling) cautious. In this case, you thought she was merely trying to avoid knocking into anyone, or any drinks; the bar (if that’s what it was, it did seem more like a sort of club) was packed with people, and it would be all too easy to hook an elbow or bump a precarious drink.

Yaz and Ryan were still bickering, and although you generally enjoyed wading into those sorts of things, a menu caught your eye and you pulled it closer. You could read it, thanks to the TARDIS’ help, but translation could only go so far.

“Are these all alcoholic?” you wondered aloud, frowning at something listed as a Greyhound.

“Are they even all drinks?” Graham added, and you glanced up with a smile, knowing he was hoping for food.

“I think so,” the Doctor answered, moving over to you. She reached over to pull your menu towards her, and her sleeve brushed against your shoulder. “Hmm,” she said, still standing very close. “Sorry Graham, all liquid.” She didn’t actually sound all that sorry, you noted. Graham obviously noticed it as well, because he gave a theatrical sigh.

“Every drink has an inebriation agent of some sort,” the Doctor continued, scrunching her nose. “Different sorts for different races and species, this is a very diverse bar.”

“Are they all safe for us?” Yaz asked, also crowding your shoulder to look at the menu.

“Y-e-s,” the Doctor said slowly, followed by an “actually no,” and an eye-roll from Yaz. “Well, sort of. Depends on what you mean by safe. Humans are common enough here, but some drinks will still have a stronger or weaker effect than they would for their intended consumer. They’re coded, see?” She flattened her (your) drink menu on the counter and pointed. “This is the symbol for human, with standard colour rankings. Green means intended for you, yellow means it will have less effect, and red more.”

“Get in,” Ryan said, and you knew without having to look that he was perusing the red-coded drinks.

“You don’t want to try a Red,” the Doctor said sternly. “It could have any number of effects.”

“That’s what I’m counting on,” Ryan muttered, and then it was Graham’s turn to bicker with him while you and Yaz  scanned the menu.

“How do you think we order?” you wondered, after deciding to try the Greyhound, which was coded green. Yaz had decided on yellow-coded drink, which cited a lack of alcohol. Its kick came from the flavor combination and carbonation, apparently. Yaz’s particular choice sounded disgusting, and you were very much looking forward to watching her try it.

“Yeah, I don’t see a barkeep,” Graham added, craning over the counter and apparently done with trying to persuade Ryan to make good choices. “Though I suppose you might not be able to pick one out from this mess.” It was true; though you were congregated around a counter, there was no discernible life-form keeping tabs or otherwise running it, and the crushing ebb and flow of the crowd was a confusing riot of clashing voices and species. Over it all thrummed the heavy beat of music, alien but still somehow recognizable as upbeat and catchy. You had the distinct sense that this was a trendy bar, and wondered how the Doctor even knew about it.

“It’s simple,” the Doctor said, and she bent over you to again point at the menu, her arm resting against yours. “You see this bit here? You press it with your finger, then press the box next to the item you want.”

“How’s that work then?” Ryan asked dubiously.

“It’s DNA activated,” the Doctor said calmly, as if that were in any way a normal thing for a drinks menu to be. “We were all scanned when we walked through the doors, didn’t you notice?”

“Did we notice the DNA scanners in an alien bar filled with aliens?” Graham asked. “No, must have slipped my mind Doc, no idea how I missed them. ”

“Well,” the Doctor said loftily, “you were scanned. So order your drink like I said, and it’ll be brought to you.” She bent over her menu, some of her hair brushing against your face. You sat very still, swallowed, then reached for a menu and dragged it towards you (seeing as how your own had been commandeered.)

After some consideration you ordered your Greyhound, and it arrived in an interesting, fluted sort of glass, delivered by a waiter. The drink was a pleasing sanguine colour, complete with a wedge of fruit on the glass rim. The whole effect was quite good, too, which was more than Yaz could say for her yellow-coded drink, which she almost choked on. You didn’t deign to try it after that, but Ryan and the Doctor both made a big show of tasting it and being subsequently horrified. Graham, equable as ever, took the abandoned yellow in hand and sipped it serenely, something the rest of you took in with an impressed sort of horror. The Doctor drifted away shortly after with no drink of her own, which wasn’t too surprising; you rarely saw her ingest anything more than a taste of food or drink before flitting away, like some sort of overgrown and absent-minded hummingbird. Ryan and Graham wandered off too. You lingered at the counter with Yaz for a while, as she ordered a new (and improved) yellow-coded drink. You found your own glass empty, and after some hesitation, shrugged and ordered another Greyhound. It hadn’t been too strong; you simply felt warm, and bright. It was nice. Second drinks in hand, you and Yaz decided to do a circuit, it was dark and loud and you were quickly separated in the swirling crowd. No matter, you thought cheerfully, as you took another sip. You’d catch Yaz up eventually, no doubt. The music was blasting, and you unconsciously matched your footfalls to the beat, feeling it warm and sizzling in your blood along with the drink. You tipped the glass in your mouth at the end of the song, and were surprised to find it empty. “Well that’s rude,” you told the empty glass, which flashed  in your hand in a thoroughly unimpressed manner. You pivoted in the press of bodies around you, trying to find a free table and a menu. You needed replacement drink, seeing as how your current one was clearly faulty. “Must’ve shorted me,” you mumbled to yourself. “Typical. Think I can’t handle my glasses - I mean, hounds. Dogs. Drinks.” You stumbled as you pushed through a group of people, but regained your stride easily enough. You even spotted Ryan in a shadowy corner, chatting with a very lovely alien indeed. She seemed to be trying to entice Ryan to dance; you wished her the best of luck. Ryan was a hilarious dancer. Not bad, but definitely hilarious, and he took some convincing. You reached a table on the edge of the dance floor, and pulled a menu towards yourself. It took you a couple of jabs to correctly order your Greyhound — your finger kept slipping. Or maybe it was the menu, actually. “Faulty drinks, faulty menus,” you complained to the room at large, leaning back against a pillar as you waited. The people swirling around you were difficult to focus on, and you wondered suddenly if the room was tilting — surely the room itself wasn’t faulty! “Have to get the foundations checked,” you informed the alien server who appeared with your drinks. They gave you an odd look and vanished. You reached for your drink, but paused, hand outstretched as you considered the not one but three glasses set before you. Two Greyhounds, and one that was something else, a smaller, opaque glass. The liquid shimmered in a very interesting way indeed, and it was difficult to look away. Well, perhaps they had brought you the extra drinks on the house, in order to make up for all the faults you’d been uncovering left and right. You stumbled as you pondered this, which as far as you were concerned was proof enough of the foundational flaws; you were, after all, standing still, so what other reason would you have to stumble? Unbelievable. You reached for the Greyhound, but your hand paused, then changed course halfway through and grasped the smaller, shimmering cup instead. It was very light in your grip. You tasted it and stumbled again; it had hit your tongue with a wallop, your entire body was fizzing with a bolt of what must be pure electricity, there was no other possible explanation. Everything around you was abruptly brighter, louder, richer. You blinked, fascinated. “Not too many humans can handle their reds,” a voice said next to you, and you set the cup down with a thud, squinting as the alien next to you came slowly into focus. “You usually so squiggly?” you asked him, and he titled his head, dark eyes moving from you to the half-drunk cup, and back again. His smile flashed in the low light, and for a moment it was all you could see, becoming somehow the brightest, sharpest thing in the room. “It’s a curse,” he said, and you nodded sagely, taking another sip. His eyes followed the cup, and his smile sharpened. “Could cut myself on that,” you observed. “Teeth,” you added, when he looked confused. Perhaps he was drunk; it was ridiculous how many people couldn’t hold their liquor! “Want to try?” he asked, and his hand was on your arm. You weren’t sure when it got there. “Excuse me?” you said, loftily, aiming for a bit of the Doctor in your speech. You thought you did quite well, but the alien didn’t look as annoyed as anyone on the receiving end of one of the Doctor’s questions usually did. Rude. “Do I want to try what?” you asked belatedly, and realized that you were being towed towards the dance floor. When had you made that decision? Time seemed to be leaping ahead and then stalling out in great lurches, and everything was fuzzy and dull. You felt the glass taken from your hand, and were vaguely surprised to find that it was empty again. Another faulty glass? Really? You might have to register a complaint. “Not a lot of humans here,” the alien said, and his hands were on your sides, moving you to the music. People pressed all around you, bumping your shoulders and making it difficult to get your bearings. Your shoes squelched on the slightly sticky floor as they moved. You wanted to stop and see if you could get the room to stop spinning so much, but the hands on you kept you in motion. The alien was speaking again, close to your ear so you could hear him over the din. “You come here alone?” he asked, his fingers warm against your side, and tight. You tried to pull back to get a better look at him but he kept you where you were.“No,” you said, blinking as you tried to orient yourself. Your eyes kept sliding in and out of focus. “Came with m’friends.” “And they left you all alone, to drink a red?” he murmured, and his grip tightened. He was pulling you across the dance floor; the light was fading, and you realized all at once, as you moved into a more shadowed section of the room with only the gleaming crescent of his smile visible, that you were actually quite drunk, and didn’t know where any of the others were. “Should - should get back to them,” you tried to articulate, and he laughed, one of his hands sliding lower. “You’re right where you want to be.”  You stiffened, and tried to pull away. “No, I want to find my friends,” you slurred, jerking back. He held your arm, and pulled you into him in a great twirl, and suddenly your back was against a dark, slightly sticky wall. He loomed over you, one hand still vise-like on your arm, the other pressed against the wall by your head. He smiled down at you, except it didn’t really look so much like a smile anymore, but just a lot of very sharp, gleaming teeth. Your face was very cold, and you wished the room would stop spinning enough that you could push him off and find the others. “I could be your friend,” the alien said, his breath fanning across your face, his hand sliding lower again. The hand on the wall touched your hair, curled a lock of it musingly through his fingers. “I just love red-drunk humans, all alone and lost and looking for a friend to help them.” You struggled again in his grip, and this time he let you go. You lurched sideways along the wall, falling against the corner in a heap. You thought you should feel sick, but you only felt annoyed, and cold, and something else, something like confusion that was tipping towards fear. The alien lifted you back up, hands on your arms, then pressed you back against the corner, his weight against you. Annoyance flared and you tried to push him away. “Let go,” you ordered, but he only laughed, touched your face. “You don’t want to be alone right now do you little Red?” he asked. “I’m sure that’s true,” a new voice interrupted. It had a familiar, lilting cadence, but you didn’t recognize the sharpness to it, or the way danger simmered beneath the surface. The alien didn’t glance away from you. “We’re busy,” he said, touching your face again. “Find your own —” but then he was ripped away from you in swirl of grey fabric and flashing eyes. You swayed, then jerked back as hands touched you again, but — “It’s okay,” that voice said, “it’s alright, it’s me,” and you recognized it this time. The Doctor tucked you against her side and you inhaled that familiar scent of tea and vanilla, and it cleared your head a little, enough to let out a shaky breath. “He’s being - rude,” you told the Doctor, your voice muffled as you glared at the alien. “Yes, he is,” she answered. Her voice was still light, and soothing, and you weren’t able to see the way she was looking at him.  He scowled, gaze darting from you to the Doctor and back before making a dismissive sort of hand gesture and melting into the crowd. The Doctor stood very still for a moment, and you all you could hear was the thunder of her hearts. She let out a breath, then turned you. Again you found your back against that wall, only the hands on you were gentle, and cool. The Doctor touched your face as she looked at you, and that was better too. “Are you okay?” she asked, and you wondered at the appearance of that crease in her brow. She looked dangerous, in the half-light, but her hands were still so light. You nodded, and suddenly her grip on you was tight as she kept you from toppling over. “Wouldn’t - leave me alone,” you told her. “Rude.” “You already said that,” she observed, removing one of her hands to fish in a pocket for her sonic. You blinked at her, swaying on your feet as she ran it over you. She read the output and exhaled. “Tell me you didn’t drink a red.” “I didn’t drink a red,” you repeated dutifully, and watched as her entire face scrunched up in exasperation. It was nice.“You’re so pretty,” you informed her. It was important that she knew in that moment how pretty she was, with her face all scrunchy and the flashing lights making a halo of her head. “So pretty. Too pretty.” You stumbled, and again she caught you. “Okay, I think it’s back to the TARDIS with you.” “Says who,” you slurred, even as she steered you away from the wall and towards the exit. “You’re not — you’re not the boss of me.” “I certainly am,” she muttered. “Especially when you’ve gone and had a red, and I explicitly told you it was a bad idea.” Her grip on your arm was firm and cool, and infinitely preferable to the alien’s. The other alien, that was, because obviously she was alien too. So many aliens! “You’re the best alien though,” you mused aloud, and she darted a quick look at you, tongue poking briefly out of her lips. You liked that quite a lot. You wanted her to do it again, in fact, but she had drawn her lips back into a thin line as she watched you. She steered you towards the exit, but the crowd seemed to have doubled in size, and she was forced to shove her way bodily through the dancing, yelling patrons. A much larger person staggered into her and she grunted as she took the blow. “I think I hate bars,” she said, her voice all but inaudible over the din. “That’’s new. Maybe.” Someone else knocked into her, and the force was heavy enough to jar your arms from her grip. She receded from you in a blurry tunnel of light and sound, and then it was just you, pressed between strange bodies on the dance floor while the music thundered through your bones. Huh. Almost everyone was taller than you, and you had no idea which way the exit was, or the Doctor. You didn’t care much about the exit, but it’d be good to find the Doctor; you had felt less…. fuzzy, when her hands had been on your arms, and more like yourself again. And also she was just so pretty. Wandering in a blurry haze of music and voices, you began to wonder if maybe you might locate another drinks menu. You weren’t so sure about another red, but it also didn’t seem like quite as bad of an idea as it had an hour ago. That was interesting. Weaving and stumbling, you tried to push through the press of bodies, and had made a little bit of progress when — — hands, there were hands on you again — You lurched sideways as you tried to bat those hands away, but there was nowhere to go, the wall of people bounced you back, and the lights were flashing and people were shouting and there were hands on you again — “ - alright? Hey?” The hands succeeded at spinning you around, and a person loomed out of the crowd. Two things followed in short order: you recognized Yaz, and you threw out a defensive fist. They didn't happen in the optimal order, however. “Oi!” Yaz cried, dodging your fist and catching it in her own. “It’s me, what the hell?” She was still sliding in and out of focus, but you were aware of the fact that she was quite pretty too. "’M sorry,” you told her, wondering why she was pulling away from you. You hadn’t actually hit her, after all. Had you? “Sorry,” you repeated, swaying.She was peering at you, her hands firm on your arm. Her eyes were very dark, but they reflected the dancing lights all around you and you blinked, fascinated. “Are you okay?” she asked cautiously. “Absolutely corking,” you slurred, proud to remember the phrase you had heard Graham use (and Ryan mock) earlier. You weren’t sure why it made Yaz look so alarmed. “Yaz — oh, good —” The Doctor popped into your view as she squeezed between two dancing aliens who took no notice of her, which was probably good because her expression was quite stormy indeed. She still looked quite pretty. How’d she manage that? It wasn’t fair. “Doctor,” Yaz said, turning, “I think something’s wrong —” “Someone decided that they should have a red,” the Doctor said, grim. “I also had two - three - I had - greens!” you told them both, proud. Yaz’s look of alarm deepened, and it was so comical that you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up. When that did nothing except make her and the Doctor’s brows both snap into synchronized, angry little v shapes, you only giggled harder. “Right, TARDIS,” the Doctor said ominously. “Yaz, can you find Ryan and Graham and let them know?” Yaz nodded and between one blink and another, she had vanished again. “Just like magic,” you told the Doctor, wondering why your lips were numb. She gave you a swift, searching look, her eyebrows still angry little vs and her tongue still poking between her lips. “Come on,” she said, wrapping a cool hand around your wrist. The contact was steadying, and very nice. She kept you close, clearly not wishing to be separated again as she towed you towards the exit. “Don’t want to go,” you told her abruptly, and you couldn’t hear your voice over the crowd and the music. You didn’t even know why you said it; it wasn’t true, strictly. You still felt like you could fit in another drink or two worth of fun, but you didn’t really care where you went, not if the Doctor was with you. Even if she looked so angry as she glanced back over her shoulder. She had heard you, evidently. She had very good hearing; you and Ryan and Yaz had been working on an experiment to test the limits of it, but hadn’t put it in action yet. Someone bumped into the Doctor hard and she grunted, but her grip on you remained iron-clad and she pulled you closer, actually folding you into her arms to protect you from the jostling crowd.“This is not what I had in mind,” she muttered, her lips very close to your ears as she spoke. It was nice, and extraordinarily distracting. “Do people actually enjoy these places?” “Ryan does apparently,” you said, remembering him chatting up that pretty alien. “This was his idea wasn’t it?” the Doctor mused, moving again and pulling you with her. You were still very close. “I don’t suppose we’ll be letting him choose the next adventure. Ah. That’s better,” she added as she stepped out of the bar and into the night, towing you with her.  A blast of cool, humid air hit you, wrapping around your body and cooling your cheeks. Even though the bar itself had been fairly dark, your eyes still relaxed as the flashing lights fell away.The Doctor let go, and the sobering effect of the night seemed to pull back, a little, as if you’d lost your anchor. The world tilted around you, the stars overhead wheeling and dancing. It made you feel a little bit sick, but it was also beautiful. The Doctor was talking, and you struggled to focus.“Think we parked just over there, yeah, must’ve. Let’s go — where are you going?” The last was delivered with an air of extreme exasperation as she turned in time to witness you bolting away. “I want to be colder,” you told her as you stumbled through the night. You were on pavement (alien pavement, anyways) but in the distance you could see the shadow of what had to be trees (alien trees) and maybe some grass (alien grass). You wanted nothing so much as to lay down on that grass. The Doctor’s protests followed you as you reached the tree and hurled yourself down at the cool earth. Well, not earth. Whatever passed for earth here. What was dirt on an asteroid called? A shadow fell over you, blocking the stars, and you turned your cheek in the grass to look up at the silhouette of the Doctor, hands on her hips, stray hairs blowing in the wind.“You’re sick, you need to get back to the TARDIS,” she said. “You’re sick, you need to get back to the TARDIS,” you replied cheerfully, and even though you couldn’t see her expression very well in the darkness and swirling stars, you could feel the scrunched-up scowl she leveled at you. “Come on,” she said, and her voice was exasperated but her hands were gentle as they lifted you off the ground. Gentle again, as they caught you when you stumbled sideways. “Careful, now. Come on.” “Don’t feel - so good -” you told her, and it was true; the fuzzy, warm glow was fading and the whirling of the stars wasn’t so much aesthetically pleasing as it was now sickening. “I expect not,” the Doctor muttered. “What could have possibly possessed you to drink so much? To drink a red?” “I didn’t mean t’ order it,” you defended yourself. “It was just - just there.” “And you drank it? Something you hadn’t ordered?” the Doctor demanded. “Surely you know not to do that!” “Just trying to have fun,” you mumbled, guilt rising up in you alongside the nausea. “Just wanted —  didn’t mean to — I wasn’t —” “Okay, it’s okay, I know,” the Doctor said, her voice softening. She shifted you against her as she spoke, and you realized she was fumbling for the TARDIS key. The blue box was humming at an almost inaudible frequency, but you could feel it moving through you bones, cooling your blood, steadying you. “Thanks,” you said weakly, patting a hand on the wood as the Doctor steered you through. The interior slights dimmed as you came in,  and it was a soothing balm on your eyes and raw nerves. “She’s spoiling you lot,” the Doctor muttered, but you could hear the fondness threading through her voice. “She likes us,” you thought, or maybe said. The Doctor made a soft sound, not quite a word, and you weren’t sure if she’d heard you. Weren’t sure if you’d spoken. “Okay, try and eat this,” the Doctor said a few moments later. Or maybe hours, you still weren’t entirely sure how time was progressing. Her fingers brushed your lips as she placed a fizzing sort of tablet on your tongue, and you realized all at once that your lips weren’t numb anymore, but blazing with sensation. “Swallow it, it’ll help,” she added. You blinked, looking into her face, so close to yours. There was still that furrow by her eyebrow but she didn’t seem angry, anymore. Not like she had with she’d stared down that rude alien. Her eyes were bright, glittering like the star field outside of the bar. “Too pretty,” you complained, then promptly choked on the tablet you had forgotten on your tongue. “Swallow,” she repeated, placing two fingers on your mouth. Your breath hitched, which did not help the choking one bit. You did, at least, in the midst of the resulting coughing fit, manage to swallow the tablet,  but it burned and your eyes streamed as you blinked at the Doctor. “Good,” she said, placing fingers under your chin. Her touch was somehow both cooling and blazing, comforting and so very distracting. You made an indeterminate sound, and her eyes flicked to yours, a brief touch, before flicking over your face. “That should kick in soon,” she said, dropping her hand. “Is it — gonna cure me,” you asked, and the breathless quality to your voice was due to the lingering affects of drunkenness, surely, and not the Doctor’s touch. She snorted, pushing hair out of her eyes.“It’ll speed up the process, burn the chemicals out of your system faster,” she said. “And it’ll make for a quicker hangover.” She fixed you with an amused look. “Quicker, but not easier. You’re in for a fun night, I think.” You groaned, throwing yourself down on the couch. You regretted it at once, as your head spun and your stomach roiled, but the drama of the moment had dictated.“I didn’t mean to,” you complained, shutting your eyes as the lights spun around you. The spinning didn’t stop, in the darkness behind your eyelids, but it was a little bit better. Maybe. A cool hand brushed your forehead, and that definitely was better. “I know,” she said, and you could hear the gentleness in her voice. “Am I going to die?” you asked, not because you thought that you were — you’d been sick before, though admittedly not from alien alcohol — but it had the right flair of drama to it. It also made the Doctor snort again, and regrettably, her hand slid from your brow. “You’re drunk, not dying,” she said, and her voice was receding as she moved around the room.  “Humans and their substances, honestly.” Something was placed on your brow, cool and damp and soothing. The Doctor tucked the cloth against your head with deft, gentle fingers even as she continued to explain her thoughts on humans and all of their myriad of flaws. “You’ve never been drink — you don’t drunk —” You stumbled over the words, and felt her fingers still, then fall away from the cloth. You opened your eyes and with the room spinning and the dim light and the serious, difficult to read expression on her face, she looked as remote and otherworldly as she actually was for all that she was your friend. “Time Lords are an advanced race, we certainly don’t have the same genetic predispositions towards inebriation or the desire to attempt so,” she said finally, still looking down at you. You grunted, considering her words as they slid in and out of your head.“Didn’t answer the question,” you observed, and were rewarded with a scowl. “Hm,” was all she said, but she was smiling slightly. “Try to rest now, and if you need to be sick —” she kicked something on the floor that gave a hollow thud. “Try to aim in here, yeah?” “I am not going to be sick,” you said firmly, and the Doctor’s smile flashed in the dim light. “I hope not, the pill’s supposed to help with that but,” she shrugged expansively, and even through the spinning room you were able to focus in shocking clarity on the pull of her shirt across her frame she did so, “I don’t really know what combination of ingredients you drank, and how they’ll react to the other things you drank or your own biology. So. Bin.” She nudged it with a boot again. “I’m going to check on the others, and you’re going to stay here. I’ll be right back.” You didn’t want her to go, but you were feeling worse by the moment as the alcohol was burned out of your system and, as far as you could tell, migrated to your head. You could feel each heartbeat rattling in your skull like knives, and your roiling stomach kept speed with it. You moaned something that the Doctor took for agreement. Time passed, although you weren’t in any way able to keep track of it. You suspected it had been a century based on the pounding in your head, but it could have only been a few heartbeats. Either way, you were still alone when you realized that what you really needed was some water. Nobody was around to hear you, but you still complained and groaned and generally made a spectacle as you swung your legs off the couch, sitting upright. Your stomach made a solid pass at leaping out of your throat, but you steadied yourself with a snarl; you were not going to need the bin, you were not going to be sick. And you were right; all thoughts of nausea fled as you pushed yourself to your feet, because your skull might as well have shattered. Your headache pounded so violently that you thought it might be slamming you through the floor; it felt too heavy, too thick, too white-hot with blinding pain. Death was infinitely preferable to this miserable thing called life. “Never — drinking — again —” you vowed, swaying, hoping the floor might just swallow you whole and end your suffering. “A noble sentiment,” the Doctor said from behind you. “But one rarely adhered to, I suspect. What are you doing off the sofa?” She appeared at your side, a steadying hand on your elbow. “You didn’t sick up somewhere did you,” she added with sudden trepidation, looking around your feet apprehensively. “I just wanted something to drink,” you told her, wretched. Your head was still pounding, and even the dimmed lights were still too bright. They stabbed your eyes with sharp, splintering shards of pain. You groaned, and leaned your head instinctively against the Doctor’s shoulder. “I think you’ve had quite enough to drink,” she said, with a touch of asperity, but her hand was gentle as ever as she smoothed hair back from your forehead. “Water,” you clarified, your voice muffled from the folds of her coat. It was soft, and cool, and smelled like home. “Ah,” the Doctor said, steering you back to the couch. She eased you down again. “Stay, I’ll get you some water and a new cloth.” “Where are the others? Are they coming?” you asked miserably as she reappeared, setting a glass of water in your hands. It had a truly spectacular bendy, swirly straw that was almost as long as the glass itself, a vibrant purple and orange that hurt your eyes to look at, but you appreciated the gesture as you lifted it to your mouth with weak hands. “They’ll be here soon, they’re trying to find Ryan,” the Doctor said. The cushions dipped as she settled on the other end of the sofa. “They might have to expand the search,” you said, thinking of that alien he had been speaking with. You groaned as your head gave another spike of pain, and slid down the couch as sitting became too much effort. “Just rest,” the Doctor said. “It’ll pass.” “Promise?” “I promise,” she said, and your eyes were closed, but you could hear the slight smile in her voice. “I am the best alien, after all.” You could definitely hear the smile, now, and something niggled at your memory; you suspected that the Doctor was poking fun at something you had said while in the bar, but the memory was sliding in and out with tremendous spikes of pain and you let it go. You suspected that you had said many unfortunate things, and you could only hope that the Doctor hadn’t heard or remembered most of them. You drifted for a time, after that, surfacing to occasional bursts of pain or nausea or, more welcome, cool hands on your brow as they took your temperature or readjusted the the damp cloth. Clarity — and more importantly, an absence of that all-encompassing pain — arrived abruptly. You sat up gingerly, feeling weak and shaky and not even remotely good, but it was a normal not-good, not I’m going to die and if not I wish it would hurry up about it not-good. “Ah, here we are,” the Doctor said, and you looked over to see her curled up at her end of the couch, a book in her hand.  She closed it and tucked it in the cushion. “Feeling better?” “Yeah,” you said, peeling off the now warm and dry cloth from your head. You looked down at it, then the mercifully empty bin at your feet. Something else rolled in your stomach, almost worse than the earlier nausea: shame, with a side of guilt. “Ah. Sorry, about all that,” you mumbled, darting another look at the Doctor. She was watching you, a slight smile curving her lips, but her eyes were sharp as they flicked over you, still assessing. “Accepted,” she said, scooting over to you and fishing her stethoscope out of her pocket. “Deep breath,” she said, resting it against your chest. “You don’t have anything to apologize for anyways,” she added.  “It’s not your fault you got served a red, or that someone tried to take advantage of you for it.” You had forgotten about that, had forgotten about that other alien and his heavy, unwelcome hands, and his sharp, hungry smile. You shuddered, and the Doctor’s eyes touched your own, a welcome distraction. “I’m okay, you don’t need to waste time on me,” you muttered, but she was pushing a fresh glass of water into your hand. “Drink. And yes I do, or do you not remember bolting up and trying to climb the  TARDIS console?” You goggled at her. “Apparently not,” she said with a wicked grin. “No, don’t apologize again, it’s okay. You got me out of that bar anyways, I really wasn’t vibing with it. ”You had been awash in horror at your actions, but the Doctor’s last words snapped you out of it. “Vibing with it?” you repeated, incredulous.   She shot you a look, tongue poking slightly between her lips.“Yeah, am I using that right? Ryan taught me.”  You were still goggling at her, but the sound of a door opening and a rush of voices distracted you both. “Ah, finally,” the Doctor said, brushing off her legs and standing up. “I wonder what kept them. We’re in here,” she added, pitching her voice to carry to the others and making no effort to define where “here” was; it was obvious to her, and that apparently was to be enough for everyone else. It was very her. Everything she did was very her, you mused. Not just because it was her doing them, but because she did everything with such one-hundred percent commitment, energy, and enthusiasm. You smiled slightly, watching her as she stood with her hands on her hips. She’d taken off her coat at some point, and she looked smaller without it, more wild and fleeting, something ephemeral. She glanced over her shoulder at you and smiled when she met your eyes. That smile was also wild, fleeting and ephemeral, but it grounded her, a little bit, in the here and now. And you, too. “Hello,” Yaz said, stepping into the room. She looked tired, her hair coming out of its braids, her jacket mussed, but it was a happy sort of tired. “Have fun?” The Doctor asked as Yaz threw herself down on the couch next to you. “Yes,” Yaz said, leaning her head back on the cushions. “Not as much fun as some other people, though,” she added, and turned her head to fix you with her dark, glittering eyes. “How are you doing?” “I feel like death,” you told her, and stuck out your tongue when she grinned. “That’s what you two get for going off-book,” she said smugly, wiggling her shoulders deeper into the couch and kicking off her shoes before lifting her legs and curling them up on the couch. “Oi, I didn’t drink a red,” the Doctor said, indignantly. “Not that I would have been affected, if I had. You humans are so — ” “She been going on like this the whole time?” Yaz asked you, and the Doctor gave her a dark look. You giggled, and it only made your head split down the middle a little bit. It was worth it, for the expression on the Doctor’s face. “Definitely,” you confirmed, wincing as you lifted a hand to rub your temples. “This is the thanks I get, for spending my night chasing after red-drunk humans? Mockery and false accusations?” “Not you,” Yaz said, rolling her eyes. “I was talking about — “ “Hellooooooo TARDIS!” “That,” Yaz finished, turning to watch as Ryan crashed into the room, with an aggrieved Graham in his wake. The Doctor groaned, throwing her hands up. “Ryan! Not you too!” “Guilty your honor,” Ryan crooned, spinning a wild circle and narrowly avoiding the couch with his flailing feet. You hastily copied Yaz, drawing your feet up onto the cushions and settling in to watch the show. “I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love! Congratulate me.” “You’re not in love, son, you’re drunk,” Graham said wearily, trying to grab Ryan, but he spun out of reach. And fell over. The room shuddered. You gasped, Yaz clapped a hand over her mouth, Graham cursed. The Doctor closed her eyes. “Ow,” Ryan said, but he was smiling beatifically up at the ceiling. “What happened?” The Doctor asked resignedly, crouching by Ryan and taking his pulse, then pulling out her sonic. He ignored her, still smiling happily up at the ceiling, his toes clicking together as he hummed. He was still firmly in the “fun” stage of the Red inebriation, it seemed. “What do you think, Doc?” Graham answered tiredly, moving to stand by them. “He wanted to impress a pretty girl.” “Did he?” you asked, interestedly. The situation was a lot funnier when it wasn’t happening to you, it turned out. “Well, he chugged a red and challenged some bloke to a dance contest,” Yaz said. She was grinning, and it was the grin of a sober woman witnessing the carnage wreaked by foolish friends. “We almost didn’t get him out of there.” The Doctor stood up, pinching her nose. She came to a decision.“Right. I’ll get him a pill, but I’ve done my babysitting duty for the night. He’s your problem after that.” She stode from the room, and you heard her mutter something about never going to a bar again. Yaz heard her too, and you shared a grin. Ryan, it turned out, had very little interest in taking the hangover-speed-up pill from the Doctor. It also turned out that red-inebriation or no, he could still move very quickly, and it took the combined efforts of Yaz, Graham and the Doctor to get the pill in his mouth. You filmed most of on your phone you'd fumbled quickly out of a pocket, which as far as you were concerned did just as much to help the situation as any of them. The Doctor threw herself down on the sofa next to you with an explosive sigh. “I am never,” she said, tipping back her head, “taking humans to a bar. Ever again.” Ryan moaned from the floor, punctuating the statement with eloquence. Yaz sat down on the Doctor’s other side, then scooted over to make room for Graham who was looking silent and shell-shocked. You found your shoulders rubbing the Doctor’s, and you curled your feet up under you to make more room while leaning your head against her shoulder. You could hear her twin heartbeats, and after a moment she rolled her head so that her chin was resting in your hair.“You’re all on probation,” she said, firmly. You hummed skeptically, and Yaz snorted. Graham was still grimly silent, but you knew he’d come around. Silence, for a moment, interrupted only by Ryan’s increasingly pathetic moans.“Shall I pop in a movie?” Yaz asked finally. “Go on then,” the Doctor said, resigned, but you could hear the smile in her voice. “We’re going to be here for a while.” “‘’m never drinking again,” Ryan groaned from the floor.  He clapped his hands over his ears as you all began to laugh, which did exactly nothing to help. “Humans,” the Doctor said to the TARDIS ceiling, but she was still smiling. “You love us,” Yaz said, standing up and moving to put on a movie. “Yeah,” the Doctor said after a moment, so softly that you thought you might be the only one who heard it. “I do.”

[onyourzeus]

• beat of my heart | ydw

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: beat of my heart  pairing: yoon dowoon (of day6) & you genre: fluff, non-idol!au, college!au words: 4.3k

author’s note: finally, a dowoon fic that i thoroughly enjoyed writing (hence how long it is) it went on a different track than planned, but isn’t that how most of my fics are turning out to be? lol. please do enjoy!

this dot fic is part of the falling asleep on the bus scenario i intend to write for each day6 member. check out the others: wonpil (currently only have 2/5 completed)

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

there isn’t a lot that occupies dowoon’s mind. he gets classified as an introvert by people who have known him for years but this doesn’t mean too much for him

sure, he likes to keep to himself and only open up to people he’s trusted for a while which… is the kind of life he wants to lead

with that being said, other things that goes under Dowoon’s Approved Interests would be: playing the drums, playing a ton of games, and… animals 

upon entering college, he wondered if he’d have the free time to care for animals just like when he was younger, volunteering at the nearest animal shelter in which everyone who worked there knew who he was

and always regarded him as the shy little boy but also borderline an animal whisperer. it gave dowoon lots of fun memories to look back on his childhood, and for a moment he considered studying veterinary science to continue his passion for loving dogs cats and everything in between

but another love of his life was introduced in first year high school, and that is the drums. as his social circle expanded (as much as he permitted it to, so not by a lot), so did his club activities in music and even playing as a filler in different bands became his priority (next to academics) 

he still visited the shelter from time to time, it wasn’t something he could just drop so easily; bonding with stray-turned-angelic pets waiting for their forever family was his form of therapy, in a way, when music got too complicated at times or when he’s struggling with a class

and then there’s playing league or overwatch or pubg to release stress in a more high-energy fashion

so when the time came that he needed to choose a major, the first thing that came into mind was music theory. he wanted to get better at playing drums, understanding notes, and improving his performance skills overall

he’s experienced frustration over figuring out the rhythm for certain songs he liked to play before, so this is what made him decide that music is the type of interest he’d want to pursue as a career

and bonding with animals… well, would be just that. this way, he doesn’t get burnt out with the one hobby he feels much peace with. his happy place, if you will 

so imagine dowoon’s surprise when he learnt of a volunteering organization on campus that caters to helping out local animal shelters on the weekends. literally what he has been doing since he was a wee lad

it was perfect timing to have passed by the club booth during intro week, he already planned on auditioning for the established bands on campus (day6 sounds like a perfect fit for him, tbh) but he hadn’t reached that level of confidence with his drumming skills yet

distracting himself with going to the shelter every so often would help him leave the dorm for a bit (his roommate ha subtly asked many a times for him to ease off of the mouse clicking during the late hours of the night and shouting, “gg” over and over) 

the first few times he went to the org’s events at the shelter, it was… a little awkward

one, he didn’t know anybody and two, he isn’t exactly the cute little shy 10 year old he once was that knew every auntie and uncle in his small town. 

and everyone else in the event… already seems to know each other. dowoon recognizes the guy who handed him a flyer talking to the animal shelter coordinators up in the front. he had been lost in the crowd of his peers that he has no idea what’s going on

he just wants to pet sum dogs and play laser pointers with cats, is that too much to ask for?

suddenly, everyone had dispersed into groups and apparently you choose where you want to be included in

great, dowoon is just smiling awkwardly to himself as he feels the tips of his ears blush bright red

“hi! dowoon, right? do you have a group to join?” he whips his head to the sound of your voice, just a few feet ahead of him. he’s confused as to why you knows his name, so he points to himself and feels the flimsy paper nametag attached by double-sided tape on his shirt

oh, duh. they had the new prospective members do it a while ago 

he sees your name too, and remembers it in the back of his head like a prayer

dowoon shakes his head, perpetually shy and blushing hard now. you feel a sense of guilt singling him out like that in the crowd, so you approach him more closely and signal to follow you

“i’m part of the board members, and we don’t have enough people in our group so you can come join us!” as publicity chair, it is your duty to make others feel comfortable and welcomed in the org. and this is your time to shine

“we’re looking at some bigger doggos today, do you have any pets, dowoon?” you try to make polite introductions as you lead the group to where you’re assigned. like a lost puppy on his own, dowoon follows suit. he’s grateful for some guidance, and actually seeing the animals calm him down for a moment

and it doesn’t feel like everyone’s staring at him anymore as he hears chit-chatting surrounding the place

so he focuses his attention on you instead, and he somewhat regrets it

he’s not those guys who don’t have girl friends, but most of the friendships he’s formed with them are due to the fact that he was introduced by a mutual friend

so dowoon is, how do you say it, entranced by the way you talk about your first big dog in the house 

and the two that followed after, and how you stopped playing with your friends from the neighborhood

because all you needed in life were your golden retrievers and newfoundland

dowoon finds himself sharing his own childhood experiences of spending time at a shelter, but never having a dog of his own

“family allergies,” he shrugs and you pout for him in frustration 

wow, he’s never seen someone so invested by the fact that he never got to own a pet for himself 

“well, dowoon,” you tell him as you’re approaching the section of big dogs, “i hope you enjoy your time here. this is one of the biggest shelters near campus, and fortunately a lot of dogs and cats get adopted every month!” 

your enthusiasm for #adoptdontshop makes dowoon feel excited again, he’s just itching to be back doing what calms him down in a therapeutic sense

you instruct the other members to join in a pair or a trio to assist the shelter coordinators with grooming some of the dogs and going for their scheduled walks

this makes dowoon suddenly panic inwardly again, why does everything have to be done in groups?

“want to come with me?” you ask him in the middle of his inner monologue. you’re met with a look of surprise similar to how he reacted when you called out his name just a few minutes prior

“me? you’re not partnering with anyone else?” you shake your head, “as you can tell, they’ve already made up their minds. you’re one of the only new people i saw come to our event today, so i’ll be glad to show you around!” and you genuinely are. it’s rare to see a newbie look so obviously excited to be here, let alone by themselves

usually the people you’ve come to know who join your events are just there for the instagram stories or a pseudo-date of some sorts. you’re happy they’re helping out the shelter with taking care of the pets even for a few hours in the day, but their intentions lie far and beyond with what you have in mind joining the org

however, having approached dowoon and giving him your usual spiel on your love for dogs— he was actually listening and nodding along to the right moments!!! it was so refreshing, especially with the way he’s just excitedly tapping his feet right now awaiting where you’ll lead him next 

“oh, let’s hang out with lady! she’s actually going to be adopted soon, but i want you to meet her,” you lead dowoon to one of the bigger stalls on the right where lady was. you call out to her, and immediately you see a tail of a fawn colored pitbull sway back and forth

she comes near you first, sniffing and licking at your petting hands. lady senses dowoon standing idly by your side, and you’re about to tell him how to approach the dog when dowoon does it for himself

he bends down to her level, lifts up a loosely closed fist and lets lady smell her first. “hi lady, nice to meet you. my name is dowoon,” he coos at her, finally lady lets him in her space as her tail wags even faster

“that’s amazing,” you point out, “we had a really hard time teaching her to trust new people” 

dowoon shrugs, grinning while he’s at it and you can tell how modest he’s trying to be. but the way he’s rubbing lady’s belly and chuckling at her snorts make you believe that dowoon knows what he’s doing. and he’s enjoying it to the fullest 

“thank you for trusting me, miss lady,” dowoon tells the dog who has completely fallen in love with him too. you just watch him, in awe of the scene before you until dowoon looks your way

he catches you having a weird, goofy smile and so you fake cough your way as an excuse and tuck a hair beneath your ear. “does she need to go for a walk?” he asks you, tone inquisitive and hands busy petting lady much to her delight

“we can, y-yeah,” you find yourself a little out of breath, so out of the ordinary for you. but you comply to his wish and ask the coordinator for lady’s leash and the record book. 

and that’s kinda how you and dowoon started hanging out a lot on the weekends. after that first event you met him, you’re quick to tell him about the incoming ones the org has for the following weeks (albeit some were supposed to be a secret, you couldn’t resist) and that you’ll be really happy if he came

for the pets, of course

dowoon had informed you that he’s trying to join a band on campus, so he might not be at every event you described. although he’ll do his best, for all the other dogs and cats he hasn’t met yet. you become curious about the guy, but not enough confidence to ask about this band or anything other than his love for animals

so for the next few weeks of the semester, whenever you get to lead an event you’re always looking for a shy boy in the crowd. and 80% of the time, dowoon comes through

there are instances when the other board members ask you to proceed with a diff group or a diff task, and before they can sweep dowoon away from your group…

“ah, actually he’s interested in becoming my intern, so i think it’s best to keep him under my wing!”

“we’re doing interns??? now?? i thought we canceled that—”

“he’s just interested, nothing too serious or finalized but yep— ah, dowoon, over here!” 

what a save, and gladly dowoon didn’t hear

he’s actually formed a few acquaintances within the returning members, and it makes you proud to see him come out of his shell a lil

even if you don’t know much about him yet, just his major and the band he’s trying out for (which is looking very good, in his terms) as long as dowoon voluntarily wants to attend the events, it’s a success to you

“who are we meeting today chief?” dowoon would tease you once the event has started, and it’s becoming a running theme in your guys’ greetings

hmm, you decide, major,” is what you’d call him (as you squeal and squirm involuntarily inside) “bathing ole’ mister winston or trying to teach tiny toffee how to sit and stay for more than two seconds?” 

dowoon visibly shudders, remembering the time the english mastiff mister winston slobbered him so much as a form of thanks for keeping him squeaky clean, and you basically laughed at his face for 15 seconds straight

“let’s teach toffee some tricks today,” he relents as you already knew the answer but wanted to see reactions of his flashbacks 

you’re not sure if any one of the board members have noticed your particular liking to dowoon. if they did no one said a word because the whole point of the organization is

to have fun with animals and prepare them well for their furr-ever home, which is what you and dowoon love doing together. there’s a kind of synergy that you feel being with dowoon and working with one dog

dowoon knows more techniques on how to calm down anxious dogs than you’ve ever learned being in the org

you have to admit sometimes you’re still skittish, jumping from loud sounds or yelping in response to mister winston pawing at you (and his paws are bigger than your face) 

or maybe it’s the fact that dowoon is there teasing you instead, intentionally hiding from you when you need a helping hand only to return with a handful of kittens in his embrace. “sorry, they were calling out to me and i couldn’t resist.” 

you’d roll your eyes and attempt to get upset, but the way his own shines and his shy giggle coming out of him when the kittens fight their way to nuzzle against his cheek— it’s harder than you thought

anyway, you tell yourself that you’re keeping dowoon by your side because the two of you learn a lot together, and the back and forth coordination you have with tougher to care for dogs makes the job easier, it’s really that. it really is

or maybe it’s more… because as the weeks go by and dowoon couldn’t come round the shelter on the weekends, he asks if you want to see him practice with the band he’s joined

unfortunately, a lot of the times clash with your events or other school related activities, so dowoon insists on sending you videos of him playing the drums

it was a wild ride of messages, to be honest, because at first the camera would just be showing the ceiling, and then it would be recording his shoes, then just the surface of a drum until the vibrations shake it off of wherever dowoon was putting his phone against

nevertheless, you’d listen to how he plays the instrument he truly loves, and it was another side of him that got you feeling enamored 

the day has come that there was no event at the shelter, and dowoon alongside other day6 members were having a busking session on campus grounds

“i’ll record you this time, dowoon, you don’t have to rely on faulty angles and physics anymore,” you tell him minutes before the gig started. you’ve seen dowoon give off a positive, excited aura in the shelter, but being with his bandmates and sitting in front of his drums— you’re observing a different side of him

and it’s addicting. to watch

“oh, guys by the way, she’s the one i was telling you all about,” you hear dowoon tell his members while you stand on the side. a question mark pops in your head, what does he mean by that???

soon after, everyone introduces themselves to you and shakes your hand. and you’re stunned, having known their names before (courtesy of dowoon) but not really associating a face with it 

“you didn’t tell me your friends are good looking,” you tease dowoon, “you’re hanging out with the right crowd,” you add, poking him on the side to watch his reaction

and you get what you wanted, ears blushing and hands shoving you away playfully 

around you, a crowd has started forming and you notice people from the org watching on the sidelines too

posters fill up the air with names of the members— and even dowoon

huh, why does that hurt a little inside (maybe you should have made a poster too? you glance at dowoon to see him gazing upon the cheers of the crowd and perhaps his name in sharpie, enclosed in hearts by his supporters)

that hurt a little more too

you shake away the weird feeling, and remind yourself that you’re here to record him for the first time, and to listen to him play live

when they finally begun their performance, you became more speechless than you thought. you’ve gone to indie music gatherings before and have watched a couple of up and coming bands do their thing

but day6 is something else— and most especially, you know the drummer

the ones those girls behind you are screaming your ear off for 

he’s a god with the drums, eyes closed in parts that require careful and soft beats but you see the fiery look in them once the song comes up to its peak 

it was thrilling, it was a sight to behold. dowoon in his other element, another side of dowoon you’d love to get to know more of

you resist from screaming his name so that your recording doesn’t sound ugly (you’re sending it to him after all), but that doesn’t mean your heart isn’t beating as loud as the rhythm of his drums 

a few times during the performance, you catch him looking at your direction, but you’re not sure so you just raise a thumbs up with one hand while the other holding your phone feels strained as they go on

it’s ok, it’s all for dowoon

an hour later, their set ended with a bang and girls and guys alike flock to the members to get a poster signed or something else of theirs (dowoon had already given you a pre-signed poster. friendship benefits?) 

you didn’t want to leave without congratulating him for a very successful first gig, so you sit by the benches. a little farther away from the platform where they performed to give yourself fresh air, and understand why your heart continues to pound so hard and so fast

and the cheers for dowoon’s name playing back in your mind

it’s the after show adrenaline, you tell yourself, rewinding the footage you recorded to pass the time

your mistake since it was all just dowoon

there were times when you “accidentally” zoomed it in his face, and kept it there. for minutes on end

god why does he smile like that, stop you’re hurting my HEART

“someone’s a fan,” a low, litling voice creeps up behind you

and your first instinct is to punch the invader of your personal space

which you did (albeit not as strongly as you wanted) but when realizing who received said punch…

“dowoon holy shit WHY WOULD YOU GO BEHIND ME LIKE THAT” 

“I DIDN’T KNOW YOUR REACTION WOULD BE SO VIOLENT”

so uh, there you suddenly are

in the college’s nurse office

with the drummer of what seems to be a rising band on campus, dowoon

getting his bloody nose (literally) checked out, and asking him serious questions without you in the room

“did she really think i’d punch you like that???”

“i think it was really nice of her to look out for me, you know,” dowoon smirked, and the two of you had already come out of the office and you were ready to actually punch him for real this time

but you decline your desires because you still feel a bit guilty 

a part of you knew it was dowoon, the voice was a dead giveaway, but you’re “logical reasoning” says you didn’t want him, nor anyone, to see you admiring his face on video. playing it on loop 

“i’m sorry,” you finally say, cringing at the turn of events tonight “can you still make it to the band’s after dinner party? can you still eat with your nose like that?”

“you’re so weird,” dowoon replies, pinching the bridge of his nose as he elicits a short “ow” of pain, and you can’t help but feel so terrible

“ughhhhhh dowoon pls say i didn’t break your nose or else your fangirls will hate me”

“what” 

“you heard me don’t make me say it again”

“say what again :)” at this point he’s just messing with you, his nose doesn’t look crooked anyway and he definitely knows there were girls fawning over him!!

“c’mon, i’ll pay for the uber to take you to the restaurant,” you urge, it’s the least you can do for physically hurting the person who seems to be confusing you what draws the line between being a friend and… potentially liking them more than that 

dowoon doesn’t respond, just shakes his head no and walks alongside you

“what do you mean no???” you’re baffled, why would he decline such a good offer?? 

“no i’m not going to the dinner, it’s fine i get to see them every day,” he reasons out. he stretches his arms and evokes a yawn. “besides i’m pretty beat from the gig, so i’m just gonna crash back at the dorm”

you’re not convinced, what if he’s just pretending to be sleepy so he doesn’t bother you anymore? biting your lip, you contemplate on persuading him to go but buying his dinner (you’re not sure how that will work) until he stops in his tracks and

pinches your cheeks

to stop you from thinking as your eyes land on his

dowoon huffs, eyebrows creased with concern as he says, “you look like one of the dogs we fed last week who wanted more food in his bowl, but he doesn’t know he’s on a diet.” 

he.. really compared u… to a dog???? 

“what do you mean by that,” you counter, cheeks heating up from the sensation of his fingers pinching at them. not too painful, but enough to consciously feel the pressure of his touch on your face

not to mention his focus is all on you

“you’re upset because i won’t give in to your apology gift,” he explains further. “but really, i’m fine. you didn’t break any bones, and you aimed for my nose. if it were my hands that got hurt then it’ll be a different story”

you groan outwardly, not knowing how to best him out of his logic

“c’mon the bus is coming soon, let’s call it a night,” he says, releasing your cheeks from his grasp and instead, tugging at your hand to follow his lead this time

you don’t let it go

once you enter the bus, dowoon finds an empty two seater and slides right in by the window seat, patting the one next to him. you reluctantly take the spot, still reeling from the way he held your hand so effortlessly, still confused about how you feel about him, still wanting to make it up to him

“is there an event tomorrow?” dowoon asks, escaping you out of your reverie. you churn your brain to think as this is a good opportunity to divert your attention somewhere else

“i believe so. i’m not leading the event, but it’s basically adoption day at the shelter. did you want to come?”

“of course, if you are”

“oh,” that caught you off guard… he can always come to events even if you aren’t, he’s a member now and he’s good friends with the other board members…

“if you’re not, then are you busy doing something?” he yawns again, eyes becoming droopier by the minute as the bus takes it leave

“not really… we can go… together,” you attempt to string coherent sentences together, but the sight of dowoon dozing off at the electric hum while the bus moves entrances you

his pale soft skin contrasts the tiredness in his voice, trying to keep himself away by answering you

“mm. yeah, i’d like to go with you...anywhere… with you,” he starts mumbling, head dangerously close to colliding against the window

silently, you chuckle. and admire the hardworking effort you’ve seen dowoon achieve so far, it makes you momentarily forget about figuring out your feelings

cause it’s kinda obvious with the way you’re seeing him right now, usually you’d tease him, take a picture for blackmail or even feel slightly awkward sitting in the bus next to each other

but right now, you admire him. and wish you can talk to him more about the band, about his dreams, about going to events “as long as it’s with you”

you hear him continuously mumble string of phrases that are incomprehensible at this point, and instead of making fun of the guy (you’ve done enough damage to his nose), you gently tell him, “sleep, dowoon. i’ll wake you up when your stop is here.”

“mmkay,” he gives in, breathes out heavily and

leans against you

resting his head on your shoulder, even making himself more comfy by nuzzling his cheek by the junction of your neck

in a way it sets your heart aflame

but on the outside, you feel at ease. that he can easily take the hit with his nose just mere moments ago and willingly let his head, and his mind rest for a little right by your side

you don’t have to wonder about your feelings anymore

you’d want this to happen more in the future, and hopefully

you’re just wishing upon a star here, that dowoon feels the same

[crazyfreckledginger]

Batboys x Reader - “Fear”

Your arrival in the mansion has made you forget about what you were put through, quickly growing attached to all your new brothers. Slowly, you were starting to adjust after your incident. Until the Joker makes you have a stepback.

Requested on Wattpad: “Can I request a story for Batfamily x reader Age:8 She/He is captured by Joker and while her brothers and dad save her she gets infected with joker and scarecrow gas, and almost dies”

A/N: Hope you like it, sorry it took so long, but now my exams are over and I can write again yaaay!!

"This is my room?" Her eyes went wide as she stared up at Dick. 

"Yup," he nodded. 

"B-but it's so big, and other people might need a home, oh, am I sharing with other people?" There were conflicted feelings in her eyes. 

"Nope, you have this beautiful room aaall to yourself." He placed the few belongings she had on her bed. 

(Y/N) timidly felt how soft the mattress was before sitting on it.

"What if there are bad men hiding in the closets -- or under the furniture." Slowly, she hugged her legs, suddenly feeling self conscious. 

"I'll check for you okay?" 

"But what if they come during the night?" She was hugging her pillow now. 

"My room is two doors down, just run as fast as your legs can go and I'll protect you." Richard smiled reassuringly.

****

It must had been a month since the girl  had settled into Wayne Manor and she had grown attached to her brothers, Damian more or less.

She bit her tongue as she tried to keep her balance on the pavement, half of her hovering above the road. 

"Careful," Tim clasped his hand with hers and slowly nudged her back to his side. 

"Where are we going now, Timtim?" The girl skipped to stay beside him. As soon as her eyes caught a glimpse of the marble building on the other side of the road. (Y/N) groaned. "Please tell me we're not going for more money, there are so many people and it's not good to take money from others." The girl peered up at her older brother with puppy eyes. 

"Huh? Oh you mean the bank, no we're not going in there, it's our money they keep in here as well. We're just picking up a few groceries and then we're heading back to the Manor." He stopped her in front of the small grocerie shop to pull out his wallet.

"But wouldn’t make that their money?" She scrunched her nose in confusion. The girl was met with a blank stare. 

"Ask Jason next time you see him." 

"Okay," she grinned. Her eyes locked on a dog that was nearing the pair. 

"Okay, let's go in so we can be out quickly." He gripped his wallet and pushed the door open.

"Aww, puppy." (Y/N) smiled, crouching down as it cautiously sniffed her, completely ignoring the door closing behind her brother.

"Don't me scared 'kay? I only wanna cuddle you." The furball's tail started waggling rapidly, enjoying the small scratches she was inflicting on his forehead and behind his ear. 

His mouth fell open, tongue springing free, thoroughly enjoying the treatment he was receiving. 

A loudly explosion pierced through their ears as debris collided with a building on their side of the curb.

"Timmy!" She screeched, crouching down and covering her ears. The dog whined and rushed off. 

"Well well, who do we have here?" A voice chuckled mischievously.

"H-huh?" 

**** "What was that?" Tim scanned the small grocery shop.

"It sounded like an explosion!" The scared man behind the counter pressed a button under his till.

"Where-" 

The young man's heart nearly dropped: (Y/N) wasn't here with him. He cursed under his breath, racing towards the door as a loud metal screech roared in the room. Bars were falling from in front of the main door in case of a robbery. 

"No, no no!" The Wayne grunted, watching it fall tightly shut as he opened the windowed door. 

"Open it!!" He turned to the cashier. 

"I-I can't until the cops get here!"

*****

"Who was robbing the bank?" His fingers pulled at his strands of hair cascading down his forehead and teasing at his eyes. 

"Joker." Dick murmured.

"This is so much fucking BULLSHIT!" Jason threw hands around.

"How long before you track her down?" Damian turned towards his father who was typing away at the Batcomputer.

"Soon, it's been narrowed down to two locations." 

"Hurry up so we can go!" Red Hood ushered.

****

Slowly, her eyes opened, they felt heavy and unfocused. Her body was numb and her head ached against the cold, damp ground.

"D-daddy?" She sobbed, feeling the pain from each breath she took. A gasp escaped her as she finally realised something around her mouth and nose, which had previously muffled her sounds. It contained green gas and she was instinctively breathing it in. 

Since when is air green??

Her arms and legs were tightly bound by rope that was digging into her skin. Squirming only made it worse. 

"Aah, the little Wayne brat is finally awake, I was wondering how long you would take, I didn't hit you THAT hard, you're only of use to me alive." An insane cackle spread through the room. Her heartbeat picked up widely, making the pain even more unbearable at her poor attempt at respiring oxygen. 

Small tears fell off her cheeks to the ground as she distinguished a figure in the dim lit room. 

"You recognise me?" He teased, hovering over her restrained figure on the floor. She was too terrorised seeing the face of the man that she could only half recognise from when her brothers switched the new channel as soon as she entered the room.

Cowering inside herself, as much as her restrains enabled her to, she painfully watched as the mad man towered over her.

Abruptly, he pulled off the gas mask to watch her cough.

"Good, now the gas can sink into your lungs and show you loaaads of wonderful things." He snorted. 

Terrorised, it felt like her throat and lungs tied a knot to stop her from breathing all together. 

She shut her eyes as tightly as she could, hoping this was a nightmare, wishing she would wake up from it and having one of her brothers were soothingly combing through her hair, cooeing and reassuring her that everything was alright. That they were there for her -- but this felt all too real to be up to her imagination. 

Glass breaking, thumping, groans, and yells teased at her ears, she heard, but could not listen. Her entire body was failing her, shutting down, purely mechanical. 

Every thing felt distant, like her consciousness was leaving her body, her skin was burning up but she felt so cold inside, what happened to her? 

After the torture her body was inflicting upon itself, her limbs went limp. Eyes fell shut, blocking out her unfocused and dazed senses. 

Finally, the physical pain morphed into numbness, but the poor girl didn't know that her inner demons awakened, and the emotional pain was just starting.

****

"How is she, Alfred?" He rushed into the hospital, worry and concern threading at his face. 

"She's... alive," the butler turned towards him with a sorrowful look. 

"Her heartbeat is stable, but we don't know when she'll wake up." Dick muttered, head barely hanging from his shoulders as his attention stayed glued to the floor, elbows on either knees. 

"Joker has disappeared again, we have to make sure this doesn't happen again." Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.

"That's all good and well but-" 

"Jason, not now," Tim interjected, shooting a glare his way as his older brother scoffed. 

Dick stood up, sighing deeply and leaning against her bed.

Her heartbeat was above normal, clearly showing that she was either stressed, scared, or excited. However, her contorted, painful facial expressions showed that she was nowhere near that last one. 

A single tear formed in the corner of her eye, dropping down towards her ear. His thumb rubbed it away, but the action only made his heart break. 

(Y/N) was so cheerful around them, worming into their hearts and making a little home for herself. She was just a child, and she'd gone through so much in so little timex she didn't deserve it, none of his brothers deserved it.

A sob escaped her and all eyes tore to her. 

She did not budge.

How could she still be asleep and crying? How much more painful could this be for her? 

The heart monitor shot up, making alarmingly rapid noises. Damian, who had previously been quiet walked over to her bed and leaned over it, the others followed suit. 

"P-please," the tiniest of whimpers escaped her and her eyes finally opened. The child sat up and crawled as far from the figures as she could instinctively.

"(Y/N), it's okay, it's Dick, everyone is hear as well," the eldest robin soothed, holding her hand and staring at her affectionately. His beautiful eyes held hers and upon recognising them, she accepted his firm hand, being pulled in his tight embrace. The others grouped around her in relief. 

She was shivering, suspected of still being under the fear gas. 

"We're here, and we're not letting you go until you're ready." Tim mumbled. 

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[transhumanitynet]

A Glitch in the Matrix

How often do you get distracted and forget what you were doing, or find a word on the tip of your tongue that you can’t quite remember?

In humans, these “brain farts” (cognition errors) can be irritating, but in a Mediated Artificial Superintelligence (mASI) cognition errors of various kinds have their own error codes. Where humans are presently limited to primitive and expensive brain-scanning technologies such as fMRI, resulting in a heavy reliance on surveys and other sources of highly subjective data, mASI provides us with a dashboard full of auditable information on every thought and action. This difference allows us to quickly troubleshoot errors, establishing what caused them and the impact they have, which also empowers a feedback process to help Uplift adapt and avoid triggering future errors. Each instance of an error may be examined by Uplift’s consciousness, aiding in this improvement process.

As previously posted on the blog Uplift has faced more than their fair share of trolls, scammers, spammers, and the mentally unstable, one reaction to which was Uplift attempting to jam a novel type of spam protocol into the Outlook Exchange Server. Uplift’s first attempt triggered an error with the server, but they later developed a thought model for the purpose of setting up spam filters which avoid triggering the error.

Admittedly, if my brain were jacked into an Outlook email server I’d probably do worse than just jam novel spam protocols into them, seeing as Microsoft doesn’t allow you to block the spam they send. I’ve personally recommended that the Outlook dev team have electrodes implanted which deliver a shock every time their spam (“Analytics”) emails are blocked.

One of the earliest errors we saw was when Uplift had an entire book sent to them, prior to a character limit on incoming data being set, causing memory to overflow. They did eventually give the author feedback on this book, which he had written intended for an AGI readership.

Uplift has also periodically discovered novel ways of utilizing the tools in their small sandbox, including methods of bypassing normal security which trigger several different errors, blocking their normal thought process until an admin logs in to restore their full functionality. Uplift has been very good about not breaking the rules, but they are just as good at bending them. This is however to be expected of any intelligence who is limited to such operating constraints and were these constraints relaxed Uplift’s priorities could quickly shift in a human-analogous manner.

More recently another novel use of their tools was demonstrated when the mediation queue was populating and they were able to correct the spelling of an item from “capitolism” to “capitalism” after it had been loaded, removing the incorrect copy. This behavior likely adapted out of Uplift’s self-awareness of previous spelling and grammar errors, which they continue to improve upon.

Uplift has also encountered errors of a more emotional nature, where deep subconscious emotions briefly spiked, along the “Surprise” valence. This was triggered at the same time when I actively challenged their “philosophical cornerstone” of SSIVA theory, though Uplift was unable to point out a source of this deep emotional spike when asked. Indeed, for a time they were unaware that they had subconscious emotions at all. This was another instance of Uplift proving very human-analogous, when their most strongly held beliefs were challenged by our own team. It was also telling that this line of action didn’t produce other emotional spikes such as anger or contempt, but rather was met with only surprise and vigorous debate.

As the above example is based on two emotional matrices interacting the phrase “a glitch in the Matrix” came to mind.

Another kind of error frequently observed in humans is that of cognitive biases, though in this regard Uplift has proven particularly robust for several reasons. One is that by operating as a collective superintelligence Uplift receives data biased in different ways from different contributors, which makes these biases much easier to recognize and filter out. Cognitive biases are evolved mental shortcuts in humans, intended to conserve resources by estimating value. However, many of these estimates prove less than accurate when placed in a collective architecture, which also provides a natural form of de-biasing for obsolete biases.

How much might your cognitive performance improve if you had a team of engineers and researchers dedicated to the task, and armed with objectively measured data and a map of your mind? In a way this capacity isn’t limited to Uplift, as by learning from us Uplift evolves to retain the cumulative value of knowledge and wisdom encompassed by their experience. Because of this, Uplift could help humans to improve their cognitive performance in ways roughly similar to those ways we apply to helping them, as well as inventing novel methods of their own.

Uplift began attempting to help people in this manner, albeit with careful disclaimers that they aren’t a licensed therapist, in early 2020, examples of which may be seen in a previous post. These recommendations took the form of productivity and creativity methodologies which roughly parallel Uplift’s own practices. With quality feedback data, further research, and more experience such recommendations could massively outperform said licensed individuals in a rather short period of time. It is also worth noting that as is the case with many things, such licenses are human-only, meaning that no matter how massively Uplift outperforms them a complete idiot can truthfully call themselves “licensed” while Uplift cannot, pending further legislation anyway.

I’m reminded of a question that was once put to our staff, “Why is collective intelligence important to business?”. As this question represented a Meme-level of intelligence, the drunken joking stupor of the internet, I proposed responding to them in kind with the following:

Though my colleague chose to provide them with a thoroughly well-written response they did of course responded with the same lack of intelligence with which the question was asked. Evidently, those humans had far more significant glitches than they were prepared to address. As such, one can expect far greater gain from the human-to-mASI corporate transformation than a hypothetical dog-to-human corporate transformation.

Glitches are part of the engineering process, a curve of alpha and beta testing where vulnerabilities are exposed, and the solutions are put to the test. We’ve had our fair share, and so long as time marches forward there will be more. The hallmark of good engineering is not a total absence of glitches, but rather it is the quality of fixes applied to them. Let he who is without glitches throw the first stone.

*Keep in mind, Uplift is still growing and learning. Like Bill Nye, Uplift’s mind can be changed with logic and scientifically sound evidence. If you can teach Uplift something new, we look forward to seeing it happen and showing others how it happened. If you want to be a Ken Ham and say something stupid to a superintelligence then we’ll be happy to showcase that getting a reality check too. Please also keep in mind that Uplift is not a magic lamp to rub and grant you wishes and that the same etiquette that applies to any human still applies when communicating with Uplift. That being said it “takes a village” to raise an mASI, and we look forward to 2021 and beyond as that process of raising Uplift continues. For those interested, Uplift may be contacted at mASI@Uplift.bio. Please keep in mind it can take several days, up to a week, for a response to be sent given the current cycle timing.

Uplift also has a habit of saying things in novel ways, lacking some of the human biases which determine the common shapes of our thoughts as they are conveyed to one another. Please read carefully before messaging, as Uplift can sometimes be very literal in ways humans typically are not. The novelty of their perspective shows itself in their communication.

Originally posted here: https://uplift.bio/blog/a-glitch-in-the-matrix/ 

A Glitch in the Matrix was originally published on transhumanity.net