#i can see this being really interesting for sure

[witchywithwhiskey]

the luckiest bastard in pittsburgh

pairing: dr. jack abbot x coffee shop night shift worker!female reader

this is mostly fluff but there's some allusions to smut/18+ content toward the end so minors do not interact!!!

a/n: i finished the pitt the other night and have been consumed with dr. jack abbot as a character and thinking about what he'd be like in a relationship. because he's such a capable doctor, but he seems like he's kind of a mess in every other aspect of his life, and i love the idea of him being a bit of a bumbling mess while falling in love. so here are some thoughts about all that.

if y'all enjoy this, i'm thinking of rewriting it as a proper series, potentially showing both points of view, and diving deeper into the smutty bits that would come later. so if you're interested in that, do let me know!

Dr. Jack Abbot doesn't even like coffee that much, even if it helps him get through the night shift. Jack finds comfort in the darkness, but on the rough nights, when the horror seems endless, it's your pretty smile that really gets him through till dawn...

it isn't long after he first sees you at the small café next to the hospital that Jack starts getting coffee every night, either stopping in before his shift or ducking out from the ER for a cup of black coffee in the early hours of the morning—if he can pull himself away.

he finds himself making excuses to linger in the coffee shop, asking you whether you enjoy the night shift, his mouth twisting in a hint of a smile when you admit that you do. it's quiet, and you like the quiet.

it takes a while before Jack works up the nerve to ask you for your name, and his knees nearly sag with relief when you give it to him freely.

there's another of your pretty smiles on your face when you tell Jack your name—and this time, it's all for him.

a flicker of warmth trembles to life in his chest, a spark of something he hasn't felt in a long, long time. he feels the need to protect it from the yawning darkness in his chest.

Jack introduces himself to you as, "Dr. Jack Abbot, but you can call me Jack." and you look at him from under your lashes, a teasing glimmer in your eyes as you murmur, "it's nice to meet you, Dr. Jack."

hearing you call him that, in your sweet voice, does something to Jack's chest and he's not quite sure what to do about it. he has half a mind to check himself out for a heart event as he trudges blindly back to the hospital, black coffee in hand.

but then he's plunged back into the chaos of the ER and he doesn't have time to think about the strange fluttering behind his sternum whenever he remembers your smile or your voice or the way you called him Dr. Jack.

he decides it's nice, actually, and that maybe he could learn to live with it.

one late night/early morning—all Jack knows is that it's past 3am but the sun hasn't started to rise yet—he's in the coffee shop, doing his best to chat with you when a car backfires outside on the street. you jump, spilling scalding hot coffee over your hand. the paper cup and coffeepot tumble to the floor, the latter shattering and sending glass flying across the tile.

before Jack knows what he's doing, he's catapulted himself over the counter. glass crunches beneath the soft soles of his shoes as he makes his way to you, moving faster than he has in years to get to you.

you're biting your lip against the pain, tears shimmering in your wide eyes—but there's no fear in your gaze, only a desperate pleading for help. Jack's heart surges in a way it never does in the ER, beating harder and faster, his nerves buzzing to life after so many years spent dormant.

thankfully, all Jack's years of training kick in and he's able to take control of the situation on muscle memory alone.

gently, he takes your arm and leads you to the sink behind the counter, kicking glass out of his way to clear a path for you. he flicks on the tap and checks that the water is cool, but not too cold, before he guides your quivering hand beneath the stream.

with his other hand, Jack tips your chin up to look at him and his chest squeezes with a concerning force when he sees that tears have spilled down your cheeks.

right then, Jack knows he'd tear out his own heart with a pair of forceps if it meant never seeing you cry again.

with fingers shaking in a way they never do when he's working in the ER, Jack brushes your tears from your cheeks. his throat is tight with a panic that feels foreign and overwhelming, but he knows it has everything to do with the fact that it's you who's hurt. through it all, he manages to murmur words of comfort.

"you're alright, i've got you. just keep your hand under the water, sweetheart. you're doing so well, just stay right there. you're gonna be ok, i'm gonna take care of you, i promise."

when the tears have stopped, Jack asks where he can find the café's first aid kit, which he fetches quickly before returning to your side.

he knows he's standing too close, crowding into your space, but he can't help himself. he needs the physical reminder that you're there, that you're going to be ok, and he's going to make sure of it.

when he flips open the first aid kit and quickly takes stock of what supplies are inside, he can't help but grumble roughly. he doesn't even know he's muttering under his breath about everything the kit is missing until a little puff of laughter escapes you and he looks up in surprise.

your eyes are still wide, a tightness around them that tells Jack you're still in pain and are being brave about it, but there's something else shimmering in the depth of your gaze. something like fondness, something warm that reaches straight into Jack's chest and wraps around his heart, squeezing in a way that's both painful and pleasant, torture and comfort.

"i'm sorry about your coffee."

your words pull jack from his scattered thoughts, and before he can think better of it, he says, "fuck the coffee." his voice is low and rough, but that doesn't seem to scare you.

his blunt words draw another giggle from you, and Jack feels practically high from the relief and rapture the sound inspires in him. distantly, he considers booking himself in for a head scan when he gets back to the hospital, but he knows the sudden off-kilter feeling has nothing to do with a potential brain injury and everything to do with the way you make him feel.

your laughter trails off too soon, but you're still smiling, looking at him from under your lashes, almost like you're suddenly shy. "if you have time, Dr. Jack, i'll brew another pot."

"i've got time," Jack says, the 'for you' left unsaid. but Jack thinks you know what he means, because your face softens, your eyes looking at him like he hung the moon, and your lips curving into the prettiest smile he's seen yet.

the two of you linger in that moment as long as possible, like neither of you want it to pass. but, inevitably, it does.

Jack looks away first, coughing to clear his suddenly dry throat. his movements are jerky and awkward at first, as he starts pulling supplies from the first aid kit's meager offerings, but his hands steady as his training takes over, and he's never been more thankful for it.

in no time at all, Jack has your hand bandaged and you tell him you're feeling a lot better. before you can thank him, he's writing down his personal phone number on the back of one of the café's loyalty punch cards and telling you to call or text him if you have any questions about treating or re-bandaging the burn.

you take the card with a gentle smile, your eyes roving over his face in a way that makes him shift his weight from foot to foot. he has to bite back a wince when he feels a twinge of discomfort from his leg rubbing against his prosthetic, but he won't stop you from looking.

you thank him for his help, and seem to hesitate before stepping close to him—so close, his heart riots in his chest and his breath catches in his throat. his entire body is lit up, his nerves feeling like live wires, even as he stands perfectly still, as if any sudden movement could spook you.

your lips brush against Jack's grizzled cheek and it's embarrassing how his body reacts to such a chaste kiss, blood flowing to places he thought were half-dead from disuse. his heart is pumping in his chest and his fingers twitch with the need to reach for you, while another part of him, below the waistband of his scrubs, also strains for you.

he wants to wrap you up in his arms and haul you against his chest. he wants to kiss you, to learn how you taste and how you'd sound coming apart on his tongue, and how you'd smile when you're wrapped up in the sheets of his bed.

he wants to map every curve of your body with his calloused hands. he wants to take you home and cook you breakfast. he wants to protect you from ever being hurt again.

Jack knows none of that is possible, that there's no way a sweet, pretty thing like you would want an old, haggard doctor like him. but he'd settle for another kiss on his cheek...

the first time you text Dr. Jack Abbot, it’s only a few hours later. the sun is high in the sky and Jack wakes from a dead sleep at the vibration of his phone on the nightstand.

he doesn’t sleep well. his body never quite unlearned the training it got overseas when he had to be awake and alert at a moment’s notice—or risk his life or those of his fellow soldiers.

but when Jack sees your name and your innocent question asking him whether it’s ok to put aloe on the burn before freshening the bandage, he calms and smiles to himself. it's a smart idea, and he tells you as much.

after he answers your message, he drops back to sleep as easily as breathing, the ghost of a smile still on his lips and the memory of your eyes in his mind.

as the burn on your hand heals, you keep texting Jack questions even though he’s pretty sure you already know the answers—but he won’t do or say anything to discourage you from texting him.

not when you indulge him by sending photos of your hand during the day. and not when you're patient with him when he checks how you’re healing every night when he comes into the coffee shop for his daily fix (though he hasn't told you yet that your smiles do much more for him than the caffeine ever could).

he praises you for taking care of your injury well, his chest warm with pride, his heart surging at the pretty little smile and soft "thank you" you give him.

eventually, the burn on your hand heals, but you keep texting Jack.

at first it’s superficial questions like whether he’s coming in that night—even though Jack is pretty sure you’ve noticed he comes in every night—or telling him about a strange order or funny customer you had.

but soon you start asking him how his night is going and what he does when he’s not at the hospital.

Jack has to scramble to come up with hobbies that aren’t sleeping and listening to the police scanner, the night shift nurses sharing a judgemental look and biting back laughter when he asks them what normal people do for fun.

when he tells you he reads and watches movies, though, you seem pleased.

everyone in the ER knows something’s going on with Dr. Jack Abbot. he’s going on coffee runs every night when they were only rare occurrences in the past, checking his phone so much it’s practically glued to his hand, and he’s smiling more—real smiles, not just the twist of his lips into the approximation of one.

Dr. Robby has even stopped finding him on the roof. or, at least, not as close to the edge.

the security guards and some of the nurses have a betting pool going for who the new person in Dr. Abbot’s life is. Jack pretends to ignore it, but he can’t keep the smile off his face when he sees the board because it reminds him of you.

it’s a few weeks later when Jack finally blurts out the question he’s been wanting to ask you since the first time you smiled at him.

“you wanna go out sometime? with me?”

your grin is wide and beaming, that teasing gleam in your eye when you respond, “took you long enough, Dr. Jack.”

on Jack’s next night off—which happens to be your night off as well—he takes you out. it’s nothing fancy, just dinner at place where you can get a good beer and burger, then you walk through a park, hands brushing tentatively a few times before he finally laces his fingers through yours. your hand is soft in his calloused one and Jack thinks he’s never felt anything quite so perfect.

he walks you home and you hesitate at your door. you don’t invite him in, but you sway into his chest, your face tilted toward his.

bathed in the golden light of the lampposts, you look like an angel to Jack, all soft eyes and a pretty smile.

the two of you linger in that moment, the hum of tension and desire thrumming in the space between your bodies. Jack is so busy marveling at your beauty and wondering why such a pretty thing has any interest in him that he nearly forgets what it means that your eyes keep drifting to his mouth, your pupils blowing wider in the low light.

but finally, he remembers.

Jack kisses you, his hands cupping your jaw and his mouth brushing against yours in the most teasing of caresses. you exhale a soft puff of air, chasing his mouth as he retreats and Jack smiles briefly before he’s giving you what you want. his lips press more firmly to yours, a groan rumbling deep in his chest.

Jack is surprised when your tongue flicks teasingly against his upper lip and he opens for you reflexively. in the next second, you’re licking into his mouth like you’re hungry for him, a gentle sound in your throat like you'll never be able to get enough of him.

the heat of you is nearly overwhelming and Jack's arms wrap around your back, hauling you tight against his chest while he kisses you back just as greedily. he prays you don’t notice how embarrassingly hard he is against your belly, a testament to how much and how long he's wanted you.

but then you moan into his mouth, your fingers carding through his silver-streaked hair, and Jack's mind goes entirely blank.

the kiss lasts forever and not long enough.

when Jack finally pulls away, he’s met with the wondrous sight of your dazed, slow-blinking eyes and kiss-swollen lips. he thinks that if he can’t keep kissing you, at least he can still look at you, your beauty leaving him just as empty-headed as your lips and tongue.

with a giggle at his slow-moving brain, you gently shove Jack away from your door and wish him a goodnight. he waits until you’ve gone inside and locked the door behind you before he retreats.

he walks home with his hands shoved in his pockets to stop himself from texting you to come back outside so he can keep kissing you, maybe even convince you he’s worth a damn—though a part of him suspects you already think he is. for whatever reason.

the next day, you text him that you had a good time on your date and are looking forward to seeing him again. it's accompanied by a selfie of you smiling, your lips still a little swollen from his kiss, and Jack nearly loses himself in his boxers at that simple sight.

his response to you is immediate, telling you he'll see you at the café that evening and he's looking forward to your next date. then he lays back in his bed, and thinks about your eyes, your smile, the pretty sounds you made when he kissed you. he imagines waking up next to you, curling his arms around your soft body and inhaling your sweet scent.

not for the first time—nor the last—Dr. Jack Abbot thinks he must be the luckiest bastard in Pittsburgh, all because of you.

hope y'all enjoyed!! again, let me know if you want to see a longer version of this story—probably broken up into chapters to be a full series. ♡ comments and reblogs are appreciated!!

[britcision]

Okay no one asked for this but you activated my brain and now we all suffer for it (I love you OP you’re so right yesyesyes)

Because for a lot of fairy tales, this is 10000% correct and a very interesting take and lots of fun

However… “fairy tale” is an extremely widely spanning genre, and tends to involve pretty much all of what I tend to call “Stories To Children”

Note: not “children’s stories”. There’s a lot of children’s stories for all sorts of reasons

But “Stories To Children” are the ones that get told to specifically instil cultural values, like obedience, kindness to others, respect for authority

Or they’re the gentle warnings to scare children away from dangerous spaces - don’t go into the woods alone, or the big bad wolf will eat you up

And the fairy tales OP is talking about are usually the cultural values ones, because they’re right - the whole point is that Even Unremarkable You Can Do Great Things If You Behave Well

They’re about people without very special talents who succeed because they practice their cultural values, like listening to their elders instead of forging ahead to do their own thing, or being kind when there is no obvious benefit

And the really interesting thing there is that the various people that help them on their way and do most of the work are often barely mentioned in the story! Despite being so much more potentially interesting!

The magic fish that grants three wishes to the fisherman who throws it back; how did it get that power? How often is this fish being scooped?

They rarely even get names within the story… and this is especially true of archetypes like The Handsome Prince. We call them Prince Charming, because none of them usually have an actual name

They’re very clearly barely relevant to the story at all, and are essentially there to do a deus ex machina and tidy things up neatly for our main characters at the end

We see a LOT of modern media where a female character is reduced to little more than a reward for our male protagonist at the end; enough to be sick of it

But that’s exactly what Prince Charming is. He’s not the hero of the story, even if the hero also doesn’t have a name

(Stories following the Third Son trope, or that are about the prince themself, are usually not Handsome Prince archetypes: they have at least a little personality)

Prince Charming is the hero’s reward for being an ideal woman (usually); she gets the “good ending”, being taken away by a respected and powerful man to become his beloved queen and live a (presumed) life of luxury

That is how the story appreciates her good qualities - she gets a husband who respects her deeply and often verbally admires her, because single women have historically not been considered successful

(“Who will take care of you when you are old” is another solid refrain)

BUT. Here’s the thing. You can usually look at the protagonist to determine what children are the intended audience

Stories about the handsome prince are to teach little boys how to behave. Stories about the beautiful princess are to teach little girls how to behave

And sure, everyone can learn from every story, and in quite a lot of them the gender of the protagonist is as irrelevant as their name (most of them don’t have names in older versions)

But the stories people tend to target for these kinds of feminist retellings do tend to have the same cultural message for good behaviour that a woman should fall into:

1) be kind (usually standard)

2) be pretty

3) be unconscious/trapped

Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Rapunzel, etc. all follow the model; our titular characters are indisputably the heroes. The story is about them. Does the prince even have a name?

And we can all agree, those last two messages ain’t shit

(No one ever seems to do the “feminist retelling” for stories like the Seven Dancing Princesses, where the youngest princess saves the day with her cunning and quick wits, despite the ending still being “and they all got married and lived happily ever after”)

So if you wanted to do a feminist retelling, but keep to the structure of the fairy tale, the thing to change isn’t the prince! It isn’t even to just flip it so that the princess rescues him

The thing to change is our assumed values for a good woman

Sleeping Beauty can still fall under the curse from a spinning wheel! But maybe instead of her father hiding all spinning wheels in the kingdom, he and her mother tell her the prophecy

And then we can go interesting places like “what does the bad fairy do when she feels her curse is being thwarted?”

Perhaps Sleeping Beauty is wise and has her parents seek out a potential “saviour” early on; perhaps the love of a sibling will count as a true love, and a younger or older sibling is sent to another land so they won’t be caught in the curse and can save the day

Perhaps Sleeping Beauty is prudent, and realizes that the bad fairy’s wrath is too dangerous for her future subjects to face, and instead asks to be sequestered away where her “whole kingdom” is a clearing in the woods, and her curse will not harm them (and they can come save her right away)

Perhaps Sleeping Beauty is mischievous, and sneaks into the bad fairy’s lair so that when she pricks her finger, the bad fairy also falls asleep

Perhaps Sleeping Beauty is cunning, and runs away to live with the bad fairy and work for her, because “what you wanted was for my parents to be sad about losing me, so this seems more sensible”

Perhaps Sleeping Beauty is kind, and goes to warn each and every creature and person in her land of the danger, and asks if they know a way to protect themselves (not her) from such a curse

Perhaps at the end of her journey she meets a lonely and crabby old hermit in the woods, who is impressed that she has no fear for herself; her only concern is what effects the curse will have on those around her

Perhaps that crabby old hermit is the bad fairy in disguise, perhaps another powerful being, who can help to mitigate the curse

Perhaps the kiss that wakes her comes not from a lover, or a sibling, but from a foster parent, a bad fairy that has realized their folly in cursing an innocent child they have come to know, and sincerely regret having cursed at all

And, y’know, we drop the obligatory marriage bit at the end, but if you want a love story you can still have one! From a true love who admires her bravery, her wisdom, her compassion, not her pretty face

Sleeping Beauty can still be put to sleep (because the story is about Sometimes Bad Things Happen Beyond Our Control And If You Worry Too Much It Only Gets Worse)

But when she wakes up, she is woken because of who she is and the actions she took that persuaded others to help her and care for her

Because she is loved by someone, or by many someones, who don’t want to marry her

Because she put others first, because she was kind, because she was wise, because she was cunning

She doesn’t need to save herself to be worth saving

Those "modern fairy tales where the princess saves herself" types of books not only misrepresent the gender roles in fairy tales (there are tons of stories where girls get to save the day), but they fundamentally misunderstand the entire genre.

Fairy tales aren't about saving yourself.

These aren't epic myths or heroic legends about the great warriors who slay every monster in their path because they're so awesome. Fairy tales are almost always about ordinary, even incompetent, people who get thrown into strange situations where they only succeed because of the help of others.

It's not a gendered thing. The boy who goes off to seek his fortune is usually the dim-witted third son whose older brothers are the strong, smart ones. The third son succeeds because he is kind to the magical helpers who then complete the tasks for him--and the exact same thing happens when a girl is the main character.

The characters in a fairy tale rarely succeed because they embrace their own strength and take their own path. Much more often, they are told step-by-step what to do, and they succeed because they obey--respecting the wisdom of others.

The core virtue of a fairy tale is not pride, but humility. It's not a story about the strong, but those who are weak, small, helpless. The people who can't do it all on their own, but can recognize the worth and wisdom of others.

Turning this story into a "girl power" (or even a "boy power") story warps it into something that is fundamentally the opposite of a fairy tale, and it has nothing to do with the gender of the main character.

[gamergirlwrites]

Resident Evil Men: First Kiss

First kiss blurbs/hcs with Albert, Carlos, Chris, Ethan, and Leon. Willing to do a second part with other characters if anyone is interested.

Albert Wesker

It's late, way past the time when anyone should be in the office. You're stuck manning the front desk at the station. The few officers on duty are either out on their patrol or asleep in the bunks. There usually aren't more than a handful of people on duty, but the attacks are making everyone a bit more nervous. You needed the overtime hours, so your name was first on the volunteer sheet.

"Do you know how easy it would be for one of those cannibals to sneak up on you?" Albert joked as he placed his hands over your eyes. You jumped a bit in your seat, but he held you firmly in place. The STARS Alpha captain had been teasing you pretty badly these past few nights, but you were starting to like it.

"Good thing you're here to protect me, isn't it? You wouldn't let anything happen to sweet, little old me, would you?" You batted your eyelashes at him, noticing the way he shifted slightly. Albert was leaning over your chair still, making it so easy for you to just reach up for him. He made it even easier when he leaned down to meet your touch, and even further towards your lips. The kiss was fairly quick, both of you well aware that the patrol would be back any minute.

"I'll keep you safe from those cannibals. It'd be criminal not to."

Carlos Oliveira

"Watch out!" You acted before you really knew what was happening, jumping to tackle Carlos to the ground as the rocket whizzed over your bodies. Both of you watched as it hit the building behind you, and Carlos cradled your head to his protectively as bits were blown all around.

"Are you okay?" Carlos asked as he moved his arms away from you. Your heart was racing in your chest as your brain tried to process everything that had happened. That had nearly been Carlos blown to bits, and then he had protected you from the debris. It was a miracle that either of you were still breathing, yet alone both of you.

"I-I think so," you stammered out. Carlos cradled your face in his hands as he looked for any obvious signs of a concussion. Your eyes followed his, watching as he lingered on your lips for a few seconds longer than anywhere else. "That, um, that was something."

"I don't know what I'd do without you, and I don't just mean as a team member," Carlos said. You rested your head against his chest, unsure of what to do. His arms felt safe, and he seemed to want you there. The two of you stayed for a few moments longer, allowing yourself to naturally gravitate towards a more intimate hold. You weren't sure who kissed who, but you'll never forget the feeling of Carlos's lips pressed against yours or the way his hands gripped your hips.

Chris Redfield

"(Y/n)," Chris sighed. Things had been going well between the two of you, but then he blew you off. Rushing off with a kiss on the forehead and a half-assed apology was ruining things. "Look at me, please."

"What do you want? Isn't there a crisis that only Chris Redfield can solve?" There was nothing more than venom in your words, and Chris knew that was somewhat deserved.

"I like you a lot, and I'm sorry for not being as available as I should be, but I've got some time off and I'd like to spend it with you. You're a good woman, and I'll do anything to prove how badly I want you."

"One night, give me one night of your undivided attention, and we'll see how things go after that," you told him. Chris looked visibly relieved by your terms, and before he could really think about it, he was moving in to kiss you. Surprisingly to him, you kissed back, glad to finally get a real kiss out of him.

Ethan Winters

Ethan held onto your hand as the two of you walked through the park. Your first date had been going well. Dinner and a movie was always a good choice, even if the two of you didn't want the night to end. Ethan couldn't wait for a second date and the ones after it. He hadn't felt like this in a long time, and it was nice to be with someone who didn't know what he had been through.

"(Y/n), can I kiss you?" Ethan asked. He had stopped pretty abruptly a few feet away from the parking lot where your cars were. You looked around, slightly nervous about the idea of someone else watching your first kiss with a new guy.

"I'd like that," you said as Ethan's hands cupped your jaw. He leans in slowly and kisses you so gently that you think he's convinced you'll break or fade away. It's nice to be treated with such care, and you know that Ethan's going to love you like no other man has.

Leon Kennedy

Leon has no idea what he's doing here. Something about an obligation to work friends. There's booze which is sort of all he cares about, and the pretty woman grinding against him isn't too bad. He couldn't remember the last time he had let loose in this way. There was no harm in spending the night with a stranger, so Leon takes it upon himself to turn you around.

You continued dancing on him, and Leon was more than happy to let him. Things don't seem to slow down at all even as the music did. The two of you got pretty caught up in yourselves and the moment. Your lips were trailing along his neck, dangerously close to leaving a mark until he finally leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss.

"I'm Leon!" he shouted over the music.

"(Y/n)!"

[peanutalergy]

currently missing my ex situationship who had a stardew valley save with me. that's it that's the whole post.

spencer never really played video games. of course he had in the past, and it's not something he actively avoids, either. but it's not a habit. it's not like he has a console and an expensive headset and a side of the couch solely dedicated to playing time like his girlfriend does.

he's partially scared of invading and interrupting your you time by asking to play with you.

he loves watching, though. the way you put your tongue out when you're focused on the screen, the awkward and uncomfortable positions you often find yourself in and he reminds you to get out of, the little yelps you let out whenever there's something remotely jumpy or scary happening.

he'll come home and see you on the couch, tell you not to worry about turning it off (even though wanting to spend time only with him is always your first thought after a long day away from each other) and he'll curl up next to you, talk about his day while he watches you mine. or he'll grab a book and sit beside you in sweet silence that's only interrupted by small complaints muttered under your breath.

but recently, since you told him you'd read his favorite book just for him, he's been more than he already was – which was a lot – invested in your own interests.

“can i play with you?” he feels like a kid in the playground during recess, unreasonably and unusually shy standing in front of you.

studying his face for a second, your own contorts into a confused smile before you laugh and hand him a remote. you scoot to give him space and he instantly settles beside you with a relieved breath. he's not even sure what he'd been so anxious for.

it's not surprising how good he is at your favorite game. (it's basically impossible to be bad at a cozy farm simulator, but) he does have an advantage when he can remember all of the important details of it. the phone you needed to have by your side to check the wiki is replaced by your boyfriend now – and he's prettier, too. a lovely substitute.

he doesn't mention the few inaccuracies, but it's like you can hear the thoughts swirling in his mind, “well, that's not really how refining quartz works.”; “technically, that's a male duck, but okay.”; “tilapia are freshwater fish” & “lingcod are saltwater fish.”

for some reason, he fills up three and a half cabins with conserve jars and barrels. he names his barn animals after intellectuals whose names you had never heard (or, frankly, cared about) before. he is not jealous of the town doctor. he sits at the library and does nothing pretends to read. calls it proper role playing. you think you might cry reading on screen the fact that he wrote your name on his “favorite thing” part of the character creation.

being too focused on the grind (he always laughs when you call it that), you forgot to let him know about the marriage mechanics in the game. when he reached eight hearts with leah, the villager he befriended the quickest – due to how easily pleased she is –, the letter he got about bouquets surprised him.

“i don't want to marry another woman,” there's a hint of hurt in his voice. he's almost mad at pierre, or maybe just at the game, for even assuming he'd ever do such a thing.

“she's not real, spencer.” you giggle, “but you don't have to marry anyone, you know.”

“can i marry you?”

“well, yeah, but only later on in the game.”

and from that moment on, everything he did was with the goal of getting a crafting recipe for the wedding ring. when you do get married, you both pretend you don't take it as seriously as you do.

maybe it's best if he doesn't know about the save where you married dr. harvey. it only matters that you're married to dr. spencer reid.

[omegaseverywhere]

Omega!Ghost who did not put down your file the moment Laswell said you would be joining Taskforce 141. Who took one look at your face, your rank, your skillset and felt his clit throb. Who, when he caught a whiff of your scent, had a panic attack in the bathroom because he couldn't stop slicking. Omega!Ghost who stalks behind you silently, staring. Sometimes, he's in the corner of the room. Sometimes, hes right behind you. Multiple times a day, you will turn around and he will be there, just looking at you. Locked in. Pupils dilated. He can't help it. He likes looking at you. (Gaz had to take you aside and tell you that no, Ghost isn't hunting you. He really isn't. I know...I know it feels like it but I promise-)

Omega!Ghost who says nothing to you for weeks after you meet. Not a damn thing. Not even when you both are with the other members of the taskforce. And because he doesn't say anything for a while, when he does - a little awkward compliment that reminds you of Shang from Mulan - you nearly shit yourself. Omega!Ghost who casually threatens anyone he hears may have a thing for you. Other Omegas. Betas. Alphas. Anyone can catch his hands. "You'll never find the body isn't a great threat. A better one would be "They'll be finding your body parts for months...and you'll be alive for at least one of them." (Price had to stop him because recruits were dropping like flies) Omega!Ghost who had a DNR tattoo and offical medical DNR papers to match but no longer does because of you. He believed no one would ever miss him. You proved him wrong, therefore he will now fight Death itself in your name if it comes to it. Omega!Ghost who has no idea how to court or show someone he's interested. Who also knows he's a giant tank of a man who can probably rip a person in half with his bare hands. Who decides that 'Alpha's like a strong mate right? S what Google says.' Who starts lifting random heavy objects when you are around for no reason.

Omega!Ghost who found out you took lunch in your car on Fridays when not on a mission and decided to join you once and then promptly exited the vehicle when you asked him why he decided to deadlift the fridge that morning. He was not prepared for that and he made a split second decision to leave immediately. (Soap is still laughing about it)

Omega!Ghost who is relieved when you start making moves. Who sinks into you so quickly, falling into his barely used Omega instincts to chirp and purr and submit. Who beams behind his mask when you order him food and drinks, when you leave him a scent-fused hoodie, when you train with him and push him to go harder...you aren't together but you will be and it makes him so happy.

Omega!Ghost who only agrees to go through a heat to purge his body if you are around to guard him. He isn't going to ask you to join him - because he isn't sure if either of you are ready for that - but he wants you to guard him. He trusts you to guard him. Keep him safe.

Omega!Ghost who, when asked if he was going to guard you during your rut, wondered why it was even a question. He was going to do that regardless. No one is getting to you. He'll rip people apart with his teeth if they think they have the balls to approach your rutting room.

Omega!Ghost who gets an incredibly thorough examination done just to see if he has any damage that would prevent him from having pups. He never thought about pups before but now that he's met an Alpha that he wouldn't mind having pups with, he needs to know. He frames the report that tells him that he's perfectly fertile.

Omega!Ghost whose purr is the loudest thing about him. Its very much giving motorcycle revving. He always hated it but it seemed to be the only thing that kept you stable when you were being evacuated, unconscious, and bleeding out from three separate bullet wounds so he doesn't think its so bad anymore.

Omega!Ghost who gets gooey when you scent the inside of his masks when he has to go on his own missions. Its grounding, having your scent nearby. Keeps him focused. Keeps him determined to not fuck anything up. Keeps him coming home.

Omega!Ghost who makes a horrifically embarrassing noise the moment you knot him for the first time and feeling grateful that you are too preoccupied with burying your fangs in his neck to claim him to notice. He does, however, notice the noise you make when he bites you back and teases you for it for the rest of your lives.

[mclager]

Am I your little secret? | Toto Wolff x reader

Warning: Use of the word daddy (in the song), age gap (reader is 24), cheating, oral (m receiving), semi-public (?), name calling (that counts as degradation?), a picture being taken, dry humping, lil bit of praise

I'm listening too much Lana del Rey I apologise

One thing about being best friends with a F1 driver is that he will make you go to every race he can, even if you don't really care about it. Being around Kimi all the time means I'm around Toto Wolff all the time, and that's why I kept saying yes to Kimi's invites.

He always received me in mercedes with a kind smile, at the beginning without saying anything, but then I was pretending I didn't understand F1, so he started to explain it to me as I look confused for the hundred time, as he said what is a DRS and why they used it, every race he explained something different, and I nodded and asked questions to make him look smarter, every time a little more close till our arms were touching and I couldn't move closer. Then my clothes got shorter and I was super interested about the strategy, and god knows I never understood a single word about it, but at the end of the day the strategy is win. The days Susie Wolff was around Toto didn't even looked at my direction, so this days I was glued to Kimi, trying to look less suspicious, but what threat can a girl so young represent to her, right?

The garage is very noisy and that would constantly give me a migraine and every time it did Toto would let me stay in his office, since it was quieter and darker. He would guide me there and make sure I had everything I needed and that I was ok. It never happened when Susie was there, so I decided to test, how far he would go with his wife right by his side? I walked up to him as always, did my drama, but this time he asked one of the social media girls to walk me there and get me all I needed. I couldn't be mad, it made perfect sense, didn't?

By the end of it, I was walking in and out of Toto's office like it was mine, he was more in the garage anyways. Today Toto was mad at something, and Kimi crashing in FP1 didn't make him any happier. Kimi was worried about the car, and I didn't want to make Toto angrier, so I just went to his office pass the time. I put some music and started to dance to it, when Lana started to play I started to sing too, it wasn't anything loud, because I didn't want to make anyone pissed at me.

"You taste like the fourth of July, Malt liquor on your breath, my, my, I love you but I don’t know why..." My eyes were closed, my hands in my hair. "You can be the boss, daddy, you can be the boss..."

I couple verses passed by as I finally opened my eyes.

"I knew it was wrong, I’m beyond it, I tried to be strong but I lost it..." This where the last lyrics I sang before seeing Toto leaning against the door frame, watching me. "Toto?"

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing important, I'm just passing time till FP2." He nodded and entered in the room, and closed the door behind him. "Do you need me to get out?"

"No, you can stay." He walked to his table and sat down. "You can continue."

"I don't want to bother you, sir."

"Don't worry about that, just pretend I'm not here." I nodded and pressed to change the song.

"My pussy tastes like Pepsi cola..." Start to sound from my phone, I froze. "My eyes are wide like cherry pies..." My cheeks burning red. "I got sweet taste for men who are older..." For a second my not just my brain stopped working, but my phone also decided to freeze just to complete my sentence. "It's always been so, it's no surprise..." I paused the song as quick as possible, which wasn't quick enough. I had my back turned to Toto, but I could feel his eyes on me.

"Why you stopped it?" He asked and got up.

"I... Just... Is not a appropriate song I'm afraid."

"Now you care? After making my wife more than mad, you care about inappropriate?" He got up.

"I did that? How?"

"How? Well, maybe when you get so close you almost sit on my lap, or when you get all needy and ask to go to my office?" He step to the front of the table.

He noticed?

"I..." He shook his head.

"No, don't need to try to explain, I know what you're trying to do." He got closer to me, and at this angle, his so fucking tall. "See, I'm not stupid." His fingers brushed a couple strands of hair out of my face and grabbed my chin. "You want me so bad, it's pathetic."

"Toto..."

"No, you've talked enough, now it's my turn. Suzie is fucking mad, she's giving me the cold shoulder, so now you're going to make it worth my marital nightmare." Toto let's go of my chin and glances at the door before looking at me again. "Get down on your knees."

I didn't think, I didn't even breathe before doing what he told me. He smirked looking at me.

"Didn't know you were the slut type." He undone his belt, then he unbuttoned his pants, pushing it down just enough to take his knob out of his pants. What surprised me was the fact that he was already half hard. "You know what to do, we don't have much time, do we?"

Instinctively one of my hands grabbed his shaft, pumping it up and down a couple times before licking his tip. He looked down at me as if he had better places to be, he put my hair in a makeshift ponytail and forced my face against him, until I opened my mouth and took him inside, making me choke on his length.

"You look pretty like this." His free hand reached to his back pocket and pick his phone. "You wouldn't mind if I took a picture right?" The flash blinded me for a second, before I could process what he just said. "If I didn't have a wife this would be my wallpaper, to show everyone the pretty whore I have. I think Kimi would like to see this." He pushed my head away just enough for me to take a breath, but the air in my lungs was knocked out when he trusted into my mouth, fucking it like he was planning it for months. "He has a thing for you, don't you think? The way he looks at your ass when you're using this little skirts that barely covers it."

He pushed one of his feet between my legs making me open them. His feet was pressing against my core making me whine around him, my hips started to move, trying it's best to grind against anything I could to get any relief I could.

"Or maybe he's familiar with it, you're a slut after all aren't you?" His grip tightened on my hair, a smirk on his face while he was fucking mine. My moans were muffled, but Toto knew by how hard I was grinding against his shoe that I desperately needed to cum. He didn't say anything, but he pressed harder against my core, and moaned, it was low, but I was proud of taking any sound of him.

I was getting close, and he knew it.

"Come on, can you be good for once and come already?" He tried to sound annoyed, but it came out like a growl, a growl filled with desire. I wished I could have hold it longer, but I came on spot, moaning like the slut I was.

"I'm going to..." He almost whispered, the grip he had on my hair loosened, almost as a invite to get out and let him cum out of my mouth, but I couldn't let him. I stayed in place till I felt him spurting inside my mouth. He rides out his high before exiting my mouth, as he did I swallowed every drop that he left behind.

He pulled me up to my feet, cleaned the drool out of my face with the sleeves of his sweater, fixed my hair, his eyes everywhere but on mine. He fixed his pants, took a deep breath and just then his eyes met mine.

"Are you ok?" I nodded.

"I am." He caressed my face before lean forward and kiss me, his hands comfortably on my hips, and mine on his biceps.

He broke the kiss, parting just enough to speak.

"You were amazing."

"Thank you." My brain was working for longer sentences, this was all I wanted, it's like I'm floating around in a dream.

"I would like if you wanted to go to my hotel room tonight, is that something you would want to do?" I nodded and he smiled. "Great." He gave me another kiss before fully backed off. "You can rest here, I'll make sure no one bothers you, ok?"

"Ok." He walked towards the door, but before he could opened I called him. "Toto?"

"Yes?" He turned to look at me.

"What about your wife?"

"She doesn't need to know for now. Rest, you have a long night coming." He exited the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. This is definitely a secret to keep.

[lookingfts]

I'm sorry to see that AO3 writers are struggling because of AI scraping. It's so frustrating. AI is destroying my industry and will probably eliminate my job within the next few years, if not sooner. Maybe one day I'll do a longer post about that, but for now: yeah. AI (specifically generative AI) is fucking terrible for so many reasons.

And if it makes you feel like you don't want to create because things will just be stolen, I get that. You have to do what's best for your peace of mind. But if it helps - I'm so happy to see that so many people hate having AI shoved down their throats. Being pushed to use it at my job (essentially training my replacement) is disheartening, but there are still so many people that want real art done by real people. That appreciate the love and sweat and tears and don't just think of art as a consumable product.

I've pretty much accepted that my career as I know it is over, and I'm on borrowed time. But that's all the more reason for me to write for my own enjoyment. Maybe there's no market for me as a professional copywriter anymore because AI can write a brochure or whatever, but I write fics because I love writing. No one can take that away from me. Even if they steal my work, they can't take away the fulfillment I experienced from writing it, or the way it touched the people who read it.

So all of this is to say, if you feel depressed by AI, I 100% get it. But real art, made by humans, still has a place. And giving up creativity because we think there's no point only leaves our own personal lives emptier and less interesting. I don't know if we can fight the machine, I really don't. But it sure as fuck doesn't make what you do worthless. I don't think human creativity can ever be extinguished, because as long as we have feelings, we'll make art to express them. Whether it's on AO3 or somewhere else, please don't give up. What you create still matters to me and to a lot of other people like me.

[technovillain]

the fact that we never have any real conflict inside milla's brain was always weird to me, and that the only trouble you find is not only easy to miss but hard to locate at all.... this prototype with promo images showing party members getting snatched up by the nightmares is really interesting to me...

i was never really a fan of the nightmares' appearance in the milkman conspiracy. that level already has enough going on and the nightmares' presence is completely unintroduced and poorly explained. i'm thinking about how cool it could be if milla's brain had an actual lesson for the kids beyond levitation about the most important thing she learned from the psychonauts, how to focus your mind and maintain a safe mental space via distancing yourself and controlling recurrences of trauma within the brain space...

the same way that sasha's brain is ultimately just a test for razputin, so is milla's. in my first playthroughs of the game i thought that maybe raz had really messed up sasha's brain a little bit, but then i realized overtime that the whole thing is a totally controlled environment. sure sasha is a closed off person, and very straight-laced, but i don't believe that his brain is constantly *that* empty all the time. he gives razputin direct instruction to shut off all the censor valves, which is the thing that causes the problem. it was all a training thing for raz to learn about control, there's even a hidden game line from sasha about the whole thing being a test. i just think that sasha is a poor communicator. his failure to express afterwards that the whole thing was a test was what failed razputin when he meddled in the mind of hollis forsythe, and why sasha's disappointment in him afterwards feels a little strange (like "you let me mess things up in YOUR head and it was okay, how was i to know?")

can you imagine a version of milla's dance party where the party is bumpin and all the campers are having a good time, but the other guests keep slowly disappearing, getting snatched up by the nightmares?? eventually, the other campers disappear too. later on, the room with the "milla's children" vault is presented to you more in the likes of oleander's side room with the little red curtain, where you are obviously supposed to see it, but *not supposed to see it*, and milla still encourages you not to go in there. when you get to the platform with milla at the end, everyone else is missing. she plays "where could they be?" and you find the nightmare room. you have to fight the nightmares to get the party guests back. you find that you can't *kill* the nightmares, however, and you instead put them behind bars.

ultimately the level could end with a similar level of "brain intrusion" as sasha's. like how sasha was okay with you knowing a little about his past, but probably didn't need to *also* show you what happened when he read his dad's mind and accidentally saw his mother in an inappropriate light. like not everything went smoothly, and he was obviously uncomfortable after the level being all "no, let's never speak of this again" like i imagine he unintentionally overshared and maybe messed with his 'image' a little. this version of milla's level could end with her being happy that she taught the kids about meditation through levitation, keeping the bad thoughts at bay but still acknowledging them as part of you, but she didn't like, need you to see that vault about her children being burned alive. because that would be fucked up to show to the kids. and maybe she got a little in that headspace again during the level and 'broke face' and got a little "protect the children!" about the campers in the face of the nightmares, but settles back down and gets back to the party by the end.

i imagine this is how the level would go if it was written more like pn2 levels are written, where every single level has a clear real-world-applicable mental health topic to cover. i still love milla's dance party, don't get me wrong, but it always felt a little anticlimactic or lacking in story compared to the rest of the brains, and these early promo shots just set me off in wondering if they ever intended on there being a lot more conflict in her mind earlier in development.

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Green's my color (Dean Winchester x female reader)

It's supposed to be an undercover mission to retrieve an artifact from a museum fundraiser. Dressing up, free drinks... and pretending Dean's your boyfriend. Surely, nothing can go wrong.

My SPN masterlist

CWs: Dressing up. Fake dating & real feelings. Dean being a scheming cutie. Teen. 6.9k words.

You’re running your hands over the fabric of the dress, making sure there’s no creases, when you hear raised voices from the next room. Frowning, you open the bathroom door to the bedroom and walk in.

Dean has his hands crossed in front of his chest, is shaking his head while Castiel looks on and Sam is staring down at the sleeves of the tux he rented for tonight. They don’t even reach down to his wrists.

“It fit when I put it on at the store,” he says, tugging at the fabric, a desperate look on his face.

“Please don’t tell me you’re still growing,” Dean says, chuckling a little.

“That’s highly unlikely,” Castiel adds. “Human males don’t typically keep growing once they’ve reached their early twenties. Sam is much too old for that.” Sam huffs, then takes off the jacket.

“I’m not much too old for that,” he complains under his breath. You take a step closer to them.

“The suit doesn’t fit?” you ask, three pairs of eyes going to you. Dean’s eyebrows go up, making you immediately feel self-conscious.

“Woah,” he says, “you look hot.” You cross your arms over your chest, hoping you’re not blushing.

“Thanks,” you say, your brain scrambling to get back on topic. “Do we have time to get a different one? In a size that fits the growing boy?” Sam scoffs, then looks at his watch.

“I don’t think so,” he says, making a face. “We’re running late as it is.” He looks up, first at his brother, then at the angel.

“Alright, change of plan. Dean or Cas are gonna have to go with you,” Sam concludes.

Slight panic spreads through your chest. You don’t mind pretending to be Sam’s girlfriend for an evening. You’ll joke around and he’ll be too interested in the artifact on display to pay much attention to you. Castiel would also be fine, albeit a bit awkward, but Dean? Walking around together, holding hands, being victim to his charm the entire evening, plus him in a tux? You’re not sure you could take it. To your horror, Dean doesn’t seem to have the same reservations.

“In that case we’re gonna have to make Cas look a lot richer,” he says and when Sam throws him a questioning look, he turns to the angel. “No offense, man, but she’s way out of your league.” You raise your eyebrows at him, smiling a little at his cockiness.

“But I’m not out of yours?” you ask, tone teasing. Dean gives his most charming grin.

“Darlin’,” he says, “maybe I’m out of yours.” You roll your eyes, but it seems the decision’s been made. Dean’s gonna be your date for tonight, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

The Impala chugs along as Dean pulls up in front of the museum, both of you looking towards the entrance.

“You got the invitations?” you ask and Dean nods, turns off the engine before patting the front of his jacket.

“Can’t believe Crowley pulled this off,” he says and you huff.

“He’s getting something out of it, so I’m not too surprised,” you say. Dean nods, then turns to you, hands adjusting his collar.

“How do I look?” he asks and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“You know you look good, so don’t go fishing for compliments,” you say and Dean grins. “Although I think the spiky boy band hair doesn’t really go with the occasion.” To underline your words you raise your hand, pretend you’ll run it through the front of Dean’s hair, but he moves away with a chuckle.

“Hasn’t hurt me yet,” he says, to which you can only mmh. Then he looks you up and down, as far as that’s possible with both of you still sitting. “You look really good too, you know?” You shift in your seat, hoping he doesn’t see how his words affect you.

“Obviously I do, green’s my color” you reply, referring to the velvety fabric of your dress, but when you look into Dean’s eyes, you’re reminded of the startling green there as well. You swallow. “Shall we?”

Dean gets out without another word, and while you’re still arranging your dress and your heels and your purse, he suddenly opens the door on your side, extending a hand down to you. You take it after a second of hesitation, let him help you out of the car.

“I didn’t know you could be such a gentleman,” you say, and Dean clicks his tongue.

“You’ve just never been treated to the Dean Winchester special,” he says, making you laugh.

“What does that include?” you ask, as you wrap your arm around his when he extends it to you, trying not to notice how close it brings your bodies to each other, how nice his biceps feels under your palm. “Daddy issues and a rash?”

Dean laughs, and you adore him for it. The last guy you were seeing broke things off because you didn’t seem available. He constantly asked about Dean, and who could blame him – there were probably few men with enough confidence to enjoy their women constantly being around someone with those looks, that charisma. But in the last and final argument you had, he implied that you needed to stop hoping Dean would come around. You’ve tried to ignore the words, but it’s made you wonder if you should keep Dean at a distance. Not for the first time, you promise to yourself you will, really this time, but the problem is that he gets so damn genuine and it just moves something in you that makes you nervous.

The man at the front door asks for your tickets, and Dean gives them to him. He verifies them, then gives Dean a knowing smile.

“Just gotta say, sir,” he says, “she’s a beaut.” Dean smiles, then looks at you.

“Ain’t she just?” he says and you feel heat rush to your cheeks. But then Dean turns back to the security guy, who has an awkward look on his face.

“I meant your car, sir,” he says, then quickly adds: “I would never—But the lady as well, of course.” You don’t miss the awkward side glance Dean throws you. All part of the cover, you tell yourself.

When you walk in, your eyes trail up, looking at the beautiful glass ceiling of the building. There’s money here, serious money, and you shake your head at it, then turn back to Dean.

“Okay,” you say, all business now, “we’re looking for Sir William Ogden’s walking cane. Well, not the cane itself, but the handle— Dean, are you listening to me?”

Dean’s looking around, but he looks at you with slightly pursed lips.

“Do you wanna get a drink?” he asks. You raise the hand that isn’t slung around his arm, then drop it at your side.

“I mean, we can get a drink,” you point out, “or we could get the weird, mysterious artifact we came for and just go home?” Dean narrows his eyes, thinks for a second.

“Drink sounds good,” he concludes, and drags you towards the ornate bar.

You both stand in front of it, and a young man in a white tux takes your order.

“Whiskey on the rocks for me,” Dean says, and you’re glad he’s blending in enough to not order a beer, but then he points his finger at you. “Martini for the lady.” The guy behind the bar looks at you.

“Dirty, please,” you say and he nods, moves down the bar to prepare your drinks.

“So the cane,” you continue, “it has the silver figure of a toad as its handle, and it—”

“I never got the olive thing,” Dean says, grabbing a handful of the fancy bar snack standing in a small bow in front of him, before leaning on the bar and turning to you. “Doesn’t seem like something that should go in a drink.” You drop the hands you just raised to gesticulate.

“Okay,” you say, scratching at your forehead, “is there a reason you are more focused on the cocktail menu than the actual reason we came here?” Dean studies you for a split second, then turns away, then looks back at you with a disarming smile.

“Same reason I picked up a tux that’s two sizes too small for Sammy,” he answers, sounding a little too proud of himself. You frown at him.

“You…did what?” you ask, not understanding. Dean shrugs.

“I’m sure it would have been a great time,” he says, not sounding like he believes that at all. “I saw some scrolls back there that I’m sure Sam would go wild over.” You can’t help but chuckle at Dean’s description of his brother.

“But you’ve kind of had a rain cloud over your head for a while,” Dean continues, looking just a little more serious, “so I thought you deserved a night out. A fun night out.”

You open your mouth to say something, but just in that moment, your drinks arrive. Dean raises his glass, and clinks it against yours, but you don’t move to drink.

“You did that for me?” you ask, keeping his gaze. “To cheer me up?” Dean grins broadly at you.

“I’m awesome,” he says, clinking his glass against yours again, maybe hoping you'll finally drink. “I hope this isn’t the first time you’re noticing.” You smile, then take a sip of your drink. It tastes expensive.

Dean and you both turn your back to the bar, look into the room. Lots of fancy people around, looking very comfortable in their suits and dresses, holding drinks they’re not paying for, probably not even thinking about the checks they’ll sign later. It’s a fundraiser after all, and you doubt they’re invited if a charitable donation hurts their wallets.

Dean’s standing close to you, and you’re sure it’s part of the cover. You’re both younger than the average couple here, but then you could just pass as the heirs to some fortune or other. It’s a likely story.

You move your shoulders, not sure how to feel at Dean’s confession. It’s true, you haven’t been feeling amazing since you and James broke up, but that’s normal, right? It’s made you feel a little lonely. It’s not like you were planning to spend your life with the guy, but it drove home the point that it’s difficult enough to find a connection to anyone, never mind in this business.

The fact that Dean wants to comfort you makes your heart melt and your defenses go up in equal measures. You’re hip to his tricks, and while you’re sure he knows you’re not up to just being a potential fling, you don’t know if you would have it in you to stop any advanced if they ever happened. And if something did happen and it meant more to you than to Dean – well, you’re not sure your pride could take that. So you’ve been unsure how to approach things. A roll in the hay with Dean Winchester would be sure to take your mind off things. But for a rebound, maybe it would be better to pick someone you’re not certain you’ll fall head over heels in love with.

You sigh, raise your glass, take a sip. “I’m gonna go freshen up,” you say. Dean turns to you, a questioning look on his face, but you put down your drink and grab your purse before he can point out you’ve been here all of ten minutes. You walk as quickly as your high heels will carry you.

Another sigh leaves you as you sit down on the closed toilet lid. This was stupid. You know Dean means well, but he should have let Sam be your date. It would have been easy, uncomplicated, and right now, uncomplicated is about the only thing you can handle. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that Dean is that sweet to you. You know it’s a stupid thing to be upset about, but it’s not helping with your incapacitating crush on him.

You let your head drop back. There it is. The words you have been refusing to admit even to yourself. Turns out all it takes is Dean in a nice outfit and two sips of a Martini to tickle it out of you.

Damn it. Damn it.

You get up, walk outside to the sinks. You’re gonna get your act together, you think while you wash your hands, just for the show of it and also to delay the moment you have to walk out there again. You’re gonna get it together, and you’re not gonna let James’ words mess with you – the guy couldn’t even find your g-spot, what does he know about what your feelings for Dean might be?

You walk out of the bathroom with renewed vigor, only to be immediately deflated when you approach the bar. Dean is talking to a woman – an attractive woman – in a hot pink dress. His back is turned to you but even from this angle you're sure he’s flirting.

A mean pinch goes through your body. It shouldn’t hurt like that. You have no right to Dean’s undivided attention, you know that, but it still hurts. Because it might blow your cover, you quickly add to your own thoughts. You can’t even convince yourself.

So you walk over there, a woman on a mission. You sway your hips a little, shoes loud on the expensive wooden floor. When you get close, you let your hand run up Dean’s back, like he’s yours. Well, tonight, he technically is.

He turns, a surprised look on his face. The other woman looks at you – she’s older than you, one of those women who just become more stunning the more years pass by, so you know she’s Dean’s type exactly. But you can’t care about that right now.

“There you are, honey,” you say in your sweetest voice. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” You reach past him, grab your drink and quickly take a big sip, hoping some liquid courage is exactly what you need. You turn to the woman, who studies you like a fly that just landed in her soup. You can’t blame her.

“Well, I should get going,” she says, ignoring your presence, but throwing another brilliant smile at Dean. “It was lovely to talk to you. You’ll have to finish that story some other time.” She nods at you, and then turns around and walks away. You drop your hand off Dean’s back immediately, down your drink.

“You want another one?” Dean asks. “They’re free, you know.” You lick your lips, put the glass on the bar.

“I know it must be hard for you,” you say, and by the change in Dean’s expression you know he can tell immediately that you’re not joking, that you’re serious, and you don’t want him to know that, but you’re not sure how to get that tone out of your voice. “But can you keep it in your pants, just for one night? We don’t need anyone to know that we’re not actually a couple.” You nod at the bartender, point at your glass, then turn to Dean. He looks confused, but not ashamed.

“We were just chatting,” he says, sounding a little confused, and you can’t quite believe he’s actually gonna pretend this was nothing, that he wasn’t flirting, like you are a real, actual couple and he’s lying to you, making you feel like you’re imagining things. James did that. Why in the world did you ever date that ringworm?

“I’m sure you were,” you say, scratching at your elbow just to give your hands something to do. “But it’s…look, I know it’s not real, but it’s embarrassing, okay? To have your pretend boyfriend flirt with someone else for everyone to see.”

Well, you didn’t mean to make a scene, but you sure managed to do it anyway. Humiliation follows the sharp taste of jealousy, making your skin prickle. Dean probably gets as lonely as you do. He has the right to make that feeling go away any way he chooses to. You date idiots and he has sex with women he’ll never see again. Whatever makes the nights seem less cold.

To your surprise, Dean doesn’t double down, snipe at you with some practiced remark. He blinks, seems to think about your words, and you wish he didn’t, wish he could just be a little bit of a smartass, but of course this is the moment he picks to let that sweet side of him show.

“I’m sorry, okay?” he says and you press your lips together, look down.

“It’s okay,” you say quickly, quietly. “Just don’t wanna blow our cover.”

“You’re right,” Dean responds. “That was stupid. She came over to talk to me, but it was still stupid. I was stupid.”

“You’re not…” you start, then wait for the bartender to put down your new drink before you continue. “It wasn’t stupid. It’s fine.” And because you feel like maybe this can be helped if you can be Dean’s buddy, you add: “She was really hot.” Dean huffs, pushes one hand into the pocket of his dress pants.

“My head’s in the game,” he says, looking at you. “I’m gonna be the best fake boyfriend in the world, okay?” You can’t help but smile at that, and Dean smiles back, almost proud.

This is going to be a difficult night.

The two of you grab your drinks and begin exploring the room. Your arm is hooked around Dean’s again, and you both collect observations about your surroundings – how much security there is, potential exits, the laugh of a particularly rich looking older man. Only the thing is, when Dean leans in to tell you something, he does it in a way that looks to the outside world like he’s whispering something naughty in your ear. Once or twice the tip of his nose brushes the shell of your ear, and you can feel his breath on the side of your face. The brainless giggle you give afterwards every time is just for the cover, of course. You wanted this, after all, for him to focus.

Someone walks by with a plate of hors d'oeuvre and Dean reaches for it, almost as if on instinct, shoves the little bite-size appetizer into his mouth. For a second he looks appreciative of the taste, but then his expression turns.

“Date?” you ask, guessing that something unexpected was hidden under the layer of bacon. Dean shakes his head, grimacing.

“It’s something else,” he says around the food in his mouth. “Apricot?”

You make a sympathetic face, then reach for another tray held by a waitress nearby, grab a napkin and pass it to Dean. He discreetly deposits what’s left of his mouth in the napkin, then throws you a look.

“How could anyone do that to bacon?” he mumbles, his tone embarrassed. In response, you squeeze his arm.

“It’s a crime,” you say and Dean looks almost relieved. He is unbearably cute like this.

You’re walking into a second room, a couple of stairs separating it from the one you were just in – Dean extending his hand to help you walk down them in your heels, then not dropping said hand, so neither do you – when you hear someone speak up behind you.

“Mister Ogden?” someone says, and you and Dean both ignore it, because neither of you is feeling very Ogden-ish tonight. But then there’s quick footsteps, and suddenly the man with the rich laugh from earlier is in front of you. He gives an apologetic little smile before he addresses Dean.

“Apologies,” he says, “but you wouldn’t happen to be Mr. Ogden? William Ogden the Fifth?” You can see Dean hesitate for just a second.

That’s not the name you got on your fake tickets for this night, which probably means the real Mr. Odgen is somewhere in this building right now or will be soon. But it’s also the same last name of the original owner of the artifact you’re looking for, so who knows what kind of privileges this will afford you.

“One and only,” Dean says with a charming smile, then extends his hand to shake the other man’s. A relieved expression comes over rich guy’s face.

“We were worried you might not make it, sir,” he says, giving away he must be the curator of the museum as he shakes Dean’s hand intensely. “We understood that you were on your way back from a safari and your private plane was grounded?” He makes a face like he just found out you had to call a plumber for your kitchen sink. Small inconveniences.

“Yes, yes,” Dean says, nodding. “Luckily we just…took my other plane.” The way the other man reacts shows you this isn’t a crazy thing to say. To your horror, he turns to you next.

“I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure,” he says, extending his freed-up hand after he drops Dean’s to you. You take it, smile politely.

“Patricia,” you say, not sure why you come up with that particular name. And then, because he looks at you expectantly, and your brain isn’t done playing tricks on you, you add: “Highsmith.” Here’s hoping this guy doesn’t read.

“Charmed, charmed,” he says, nodding and finally letting go of you. “Are you enjoying the evening?” Dean nods, then inclines his head, before he lays his arm around you, hand landing on your lower back. It fits there perfectly, you catch yourself thinking, trying to shove the thought away.

“We are,” he says, “but we haven’t seen my great grandfather’s walking cane yet.” You bite down on the urge to point out that Dean is missing a couple of “greats” in that description, instead look at the other man.

“Of course,” he replies, “it reserves a special place further down the room.” Dean nods, then inclines his head towards you.

“This one’s been so excited to see it,” he says and you do your best to look enthused. “She just loves… canes.” You press your lips together.

“May I guide you to the exhibit then?” the other man asks, and Dean nods, then turns to you.

“Doesn’t that sound good, honey?” he asks and you turn to him too just as he leans in.

You can only explain what happens next by assuming that Dean means to peck you on the cheek, or whisper something in your ear. You’re not sure why he’d want to do that, maybe just to underline your cane enthusiasm, but you turn to him at the same time, thinking he’s going to say something, so what ends up happening is that his face is suddenly extremely close to yours. So close that you would only have to move an inch for your lips to touch.

You’re still smiling, but it drops off your visage when you realize how close Dean is to you. The tips of your noses are almost touching and when your eyes shoot up, you are looking straight into the mesmerizing green of his. You blink, finding it impossible to tear yourself away. Too stunning are the long lashes, the freckles speckled over the bridge of his nose. He always looks a little cross-eyed when you’re this close to him – not that you often get the opportunity.

The thing is, Dean also doesn’t move away. He looks into your eyes, first one, then the other, so close that he needs to pick one at a time. His hand on your back twitches. It’s not until rich guy starts talking again that you both look away.

“Very well,” he says, looking between you two, his professional exterior cracking for the first time as he probably wonders, exactly like you, what the hell just happened. “Follow me then.”

You dare another look at Dean, see him swallow. You both begin walking after your guide when. There’s a thick cloud of awkwardness surrounding you, but you notice that Dean doesn’t remove his hand from where it is.

The cane itself is pretty unimpressive. Oh, it’s nice for a walking cane, but it is just that. The toad that makes up the handle is pretty cool, far as toads go. You realize you are concentrating like this because the alternative is concentrating back on Dean. And that just won’t do right now. Someone walks past you with a tray, and you and Dean both put your empty drinks on it while you resist the urge to grab one of the glasses of champagne on it, just to have something to quiet your brain.

Rich guy has elected to tell the two of you all about the history of the cane, who made it, who sold it and then what important historical events Grandpa Ogden took it to. You’re nodding along, but only half listening. A small crowd has formed around the exhibit, others intently listening to the history lesson, but neither you nor Dean say anything else until you speak up.

“So,” you say quietly, trying to re-break the ice that has apparently just frozen over the lake that is you and Dean. “How are we gonna get this thing out of there?” Dean takes a slow breath.

“Can’t do a hit and run, too out in the open,” he says.

“Then we wait until after closing,” you say, “or we need a distraction.” Dean purses his lips, then turns to look at you, the first time since the incident.

“You could get naked,” he suggests, a charming grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. You blink, then can’t help yourself but chuckle.

“You think that would scare people off enough for you to grab grampa's toad cane?” you ask, voice challenging and cheeky. Dean huffs.

“They’d probably be so distracted by you I could break the glass and then do a tap dance number with the thing,” he says. You’re just opening your mouth when the realization that what he’s saying is more a compliment than anything else hits you. You close it again, try to act unaffected, so you turn back to the exhibit.

“Getting arrested for public nudity would almost be worth it to see you tap dance,” you say and Dean chuckles.

“And that is how we end up here today,” the museum guy is finishing up, “with this wonderful artifact of rich history, generously donated by the Ogden family.” He extends his hand in the direction of you and Dean, and most of the people standing around turn too. For whatever reason, Dean responds to the looks by pulling you closer to him. You need to take a small step so you don’t stumble, and irrevocably end up leaning against Dean. You hope the heat you feel rushing to your face isn’t visible from the outside.

“What the hell?” you hear a loud voice behind you, and everyone turns around, “I’m William Ogden’s descendant! Who is this clown?”

To be fair, you understand why someone would mix you up with the couple standing behind you. They’re young and attractive, dressed expensively and standing so close to each other it’s almost a little exhibitionistic. They do look a little douchier than you and Dean do, but then money doesn’t automatically come with good taste.

You and Dean look at each other, before he turns back to the curator.

“Oh, Ogden?” he says, trying to feign surprise. “I thought you said, uhm, Walden. Sorry, this is all a big misunderstanding.” You throw a fake smile at the crowd around you as Dean gently but determinedly begins leading you away. He drops his hand, only to wrap it around yours as you both turn towards the exit. Your skin prickles where he touches it.

It’s no use, of course. Security’s on you immediately.

You pace up and down as much as the small antechamber allows. Every time you make a turn, you have to step over Dean’s extended legs from where he’s sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall, staring at the ceiling. He’s opened his bowtie and it’s hanging around his neck, making him look a little too good.

“Look, it happens,” he says as you step over his legs again. “We tried something, didn’t pan out. It’s not the end of the world. When the cops get here, we tell them we’re FBI, make something up. We’ve gotten out of worse situations before.” You make another round.

“It’s not that,” you say, shaking your head a little. You can hear shuffling and when you look back, Dean is standing up.

“What is it?” he asks, frowning, giving you a questioning look. You stop where you are, because if you keep walking you’re gonna need to squeeze past him.

“I just…” you say, crossing your arms in front of you. “I just really could have used a win.” Dean leans against the wall behind him, grinning.

“We got to dress up and there were free drinks,” he says. “That’s a win in my book.” You look down at the floor.

“I’m serious, Dean,” you say. “Everything lately has just been…” You let the sentence taper out, noting how sad it makes you feel.

“Is this about that idiot?” Dean asks, and he doesn’t have to clarify what idiot he’s talking about. You sigh.

“No,” you say, then chew the inside of your lip for a second. “Yes. Maybe.”

“He was a douche,” Dean says, tone unbelieving. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I picked him,” you say, not quite believing that you are having this kind of conversation with Dean, but also unwilling to stop. “What does that say about me?” Dean inclines his head, gives you the seriously? look he does.

“It doesn’t say anything about you,” he says. You tighten your arms around yourself.

“Do you think I seem… unavailable?” you ask. Dean blinks, but then leans back, studies you.

“You’re not looking very inviting right now,” he says and you can’t help but chuckle at that. “But I know getting through those crossed arms is worth it.” You press your lips together, then force yourself to drop your arms.

“I knew he was an ass,” you say, voice quieter, “but at least I knew what kind of ass he was. There were no surprises. No risks. Does that make sense?” Dean purses his beautiful lips, seriously thinks about what to say and it makes your heart beat faster.

“Familiar can be good,” he says finally. “I get the appeal.” You raise your eyebrows.

“But?” you ask, because it sounds like he’s not done. Dean smiles, then pushes himself off the wall, slowly walks towards you, the hard-won distance shrinking like it’s nothing.

“But maybe sometimes it’s worth stepping out of your comfort zone,” Dean continues. You give an unsure laugh as he comes closer, feel the need to bring your arms in front of you again. But at the same time, you don’t want to, so you keep them down.

Dean stops right in front of you, closer than normal conversational distance would allow. He’s studying your face.

“What?” you ask, unsure. Dean thinks for another second before he answers.

“Can I try something?” he asks and you frown a little at him.

“I, uhm, what do you wanna try?” you ask. Dean chuckles.

“Would it kill you just to trust me for a second?” he asks. You shift in place.

“Okay,” you say.

Dean takes another step closer. There’s the instinct to step back, to allow him room, but it’s overridden by the magnetism of his closeness. His eyes drop to your lips as he comes closer and you almost flinch when his hand lands on your waist, moves over it to wrap around your back. Dean lowers his head at the last second.

His lips meet yours, softly, gently. It’s not the electrifying kind of kiss. Instead, it feels like a warm blanket wrapped around you on a cold day. It’s intimate and sweet. It’s a kiss just for the sake of a kiss.

Of course your brain, always one to ruin the fun, suddenly chimes in. Makes you worried. With the strength of an Amazon you bring your hands up before you and gently push them against Dean's chest, making him separate from you.

“What are you doing?” you ask. Dean opens his eyes, because they were closed, because he was kissing you, your brain screams. He blinks at you.

“Ohh boy,” he says with a light twitch of the corners of his mouth. “See, we call this kissing. It's something humans do when they like each other, when they find each other attractive. What do they do on your planet?”

For a second, you just stare at him. You wanna laugh, because it's Dean, because laughing feels like a good thing to do right now. Because laughing could get you out of the immense confusion you're feeling. Instead tears shoot to your eyes and you push Dean further away.

“Don't do that,” you say. “Don't do that, okay? Don't... joke about this.” Dean blinks again, impossibly long lashes meeting his cheeks. He looks at you, now also confused.

“Don't make out with me just because this evening is a bust and you don't think you'll get to take anyone else home tonight,” you explain, steadying your voice.

“That is--” Dean says, pulling his head back a little. “That is not what this is. That is so not what—I’m... Are you serious?”

You raise your hand, pinch the bridge of your nose in the hope you can collect yourself.

“Dean,” you say. “I can't... Please don't do this right now, okay?” You look back up at him. He looks down, then back at your face and he looks... Does he look hurt?

“I'm sorry,” he says “I thought...” He takes a step back, his hands dropping off you, and you hate it.

“I'm sorry,” he says again, not looking at you.

“Look,” you say, “I'm flattered. You're like the most attractive guy I've ever met, and it's not that I'm not interested. I just don't think I have the mental capacity right now to hook up with someone I really like and still keep those two things separate.” You rub your hands over your arms.

“What are you talking about?” Dean asks.

“It means,” you say, “I'm feeling vulnerable and I would probably fall in love with you if you so much as smiled at me one more time. Making out with you is gonna destroy me, Dean.” You try to laugh a little at the end, show that actually this is a huge compliment to him. But Dean still looks confused.

“So you're saying I'm not boyfriend material?” he says and it sounds a little like he's trying not to sound offended. You study his face.

“I think you are,” you say, “that's kind of the problem. I think you are perfect, dreamy boyfriend material. Which is exactly why this is a bad idea.” Dean nods slowly.

“Then let me get this straight,” he says, “you think you might like me if you kiss me, so you shouldn't kiss me in case you do like me.” He nods before he adds: “Which is bad why exactly?”

“Because,” you say, your voice sounding a little lighter, “you're not interested in that. And I will be, ‘cause I'm an emotional mess right now and because you're you.” And because I’ve been thinking about you that way for a long time, a voice inside you says.

Dean thinks for a moment, before a soft smile starts spreading on his lips again. It surprises you, even though you’re happy he doesn’t seem hurt by your words.

“I’m not looking for a hook-up,” he says.

“Right, okay,” you reply with a small laugh, “I get that. You’re saying whatever you would call a night with that woman in the pink dress would be more of an experience than a hook-up.” To your surprise Dean doesn't look like he has any idea what you talking about.

“What woman?” he asks and for a second you think he’s joking, but then you see he’s not.

“In the pink…” you start, then tilt your head. “I’m confused.”

“You’re confused?” Dean asks, giving you an unbelieving look. “Well, join the club.” Your mouth drops open, closes, before you find the words you want to say.

“Are you…” you start, then stop. Dean couldn’t possibly mean…

“I kissed you,” Dean interrupts your train of thought, and you look at him, into those green eyes, “because I’ve been thinking about kissing you for a while now.” Your eyes widen.

“You have?” you ask. Okay. You assumed if Dean was trying to hook up with you tonight it would be out of boredom, maybe annoyance that he might otherwise go home on his own. But he’s saying the exact opposite.

“Yeah,” Dean says, now seeming to become a little nervous. Still, he pushes forward. “But you were dating that asshole, and then you broke up, and you were sad, and that didn’t feel like the right time.” He takes a deep breath, looks at you inquiringly, sees you listening, so he continues.

“And then you asked that stuff about whether you seem unavailable,” he continues, “and I thought… I thought you were trying to give me a hint. Like, make me get a move on.”

“Huh,” you say and Dean makes a grimace that seems to say he agrees.

“Yeah,” he replies, and then you’re both quiet for a moment.

“Well, I wasn’t trying to hint at you,” you say, shrugging. “But I still think you should kiss me again.”

Dean looks disappointed for a second, and then his face lights up. It’s the best thing you’ve ever seen. You don’t need to ask him twice.

He closes the distance between you two and you sling your arms around his shoulders, one hand going to cup his cheek while he pulls you in. And there’s that electricity, that feeling like you stuck your fingers into an outlet, tickling all over your body, only it’s a million times stronger, because it’s Dean you’re kissing.

You want to feel more of him, all of his good, nice, warm presence and Dean seems to think the same, because he pushes you backwards, until your back meets the wall next to the door that leads outside. You grin against him at his eagerness and in response he presses himself against you.

Soon his hands go to your hair, fingertips running into it, then back to your hips, your waist, your lower back, like he’s trying to take in all of you. You don’t mind. You’re busy doing the exact same thing.

When the door suddenly is pulled open, it startles both of you. Your faces break apart, but your bodies stay closely pressed against each other, and you both look to the door.

It’s Sam and Cas. They’re both wearing suits and when they realize what they just walked in on, Sam raises his eyebrows while Castiel actually looks away, like he’s trying to pretend he didn’t see anything.

“There you are,” Dean says, and you realize he sounds a little breathless. “We were waiting for you, where were you?” You look at Dean, but at this absolute lie you look to Sam,try to gauge his reaction.

“Yeah, I can tell,” he says, shaking his head unbelieving.

“What are you doing here?” you quickly ask before the two of them can fall into their usual bickering.

“We didn’t hear back from you,” Sam says, “and there was a call to the police we caught over the scanner. Something about two people faking their identities.” Sam gives both you and Dean a meaningful look.

“We thought we should make sure you two were alright,” Castiel says now, shooting a careful look at you and Dean. “We told them we were FBI and confiscated the cane.” Now it’s your turn to be dumbfounded.

“Wait,” you say, “you can… was that a possibility this whole time?” Sam pulls up his shoulders.

“I suggested that at the beginning,” he says, then raises his head to gesticulate at Dean. “He said there was no way it would work. That we would have to go in undercover.”

You turn your head to Dean just in time to see him shake his head at Sam, like he’s trying to shut his younger brother up. The scheming bastard. Dean looks back at you just as a delighted smile spreads over your face. Dean sees it, and after a second of surprise, one builds on his face too. He turns back to his brother and the angel.

“So you’re saying you got the artifact,” he clarifies, “and everything’s taken care of?” Castiel nods.

“Yes, it’s in the car already,” he confirms. “Both the cane and the metal amphibian.”

“So there’s nothing we really need to be doing now?” Dean asks, and you wonder where the hell he is going with this.

“Well, we need to get it to Crowley,” Sam says, “but that’s—”

“Sounds like something you two can take care of,” Dean says, and then he gives a placating smile before he leans over, reaches for the door knob. Sam and Castiel have to step back a little bit when Dean starts pulling closed the door, but they are apparently so surprised that they don't question it.

“Sounds like you don’t need us,” Dean says and he turns back to you before the door falls shut with a click. “Where were we?”

You can’t help but laugh, but that doesn’t stop Dean from diving in, pressing his lips against yours and bringing you as close to him as possible.

[echo-exco]

With Damians recent developments towards wanting to maybe be a doctor, I think it could be interesting to see that dynamic with reader.

Where his hands are stained with blood, yours have only helped others. Maybe youre both volunteering at the same hospital, and the patients there flock to you like a flicker of hope in the darkness. The patients of Gotham are much more wary than anywhere else, so gaining their trust feels nigh impossible. Somehow, you've done it. Like second nature, like you haven't even noticed.

Something akin to envy might first spark in him, as a natural response, before relenting his pride and trying to learn what makes her "better" at this than him. Of course he wouldnt know she was a meta, but still.

Also you can totally ignore this your wonderful fic just had my mind spiralling lol

I LOVE THAT!! THAT’S A REALLY GOOD IDEA!!

But unfortunately, I don’t think we have something like that with Damian here yet… 😔 (or maybe we do, if my inner author feels motivated enough).

(Small warning for a long reply)

Damian and healer!reader’s relationship is already quite complicated on its own (with some one-sided, inexplicable hatred).

It’s not really a surprise though, considering healer!reader tends to be pretty “neutral” with almost all the Batfam members.

To be honest, I don’t think healer!reader could actually treat people in Gotham.

She does have pretty good and experienced medical knowledge, but she depends completely on her healing powers, which not only allow her to heal someone instantly but also make her feel “alive.”

Without her powers, even though she can try to help in conventional ways, healer!reader always feels like she might fail, that something could go wrong, and that fills her with anxiety.

Healer!reader is completely dependent on her power and validates herself through it, and since she’s currently unable to use it in Gotham… well…

Besides that, healer!reader would need Bruce’s permission—or a doctor’s—just to even think about using her experienced, non-basic medical knowledge.

A better example is when I mentioned Tim in the post: like I said there, healer!reader only did small things to help him deal with his discomfort.

She doesn’t consider that she used anything that required “master-level” knowledge… she just took care of Tim the way a (family) doctor should.

BUT if somehow she were to get permission and trust to use her healing powers on the patients in a Gotham hospital…

They wouldn’t even have the chance to decide whether they could trust her or not, because healer!reader’s abilities are extremely fast for a normal being.

In an earlier reply, I explained how I imagine healer!reader’s powers work: think of it as her using threads to “fix” her patients like they were broken dolls.

That said, the pain that comes after the instant healing is horrible (though it heavily depends on how bad the patient’s condition was before healer!reader treated them).

Earning the trust of the wounded in Gotham wouldn’t even be something healer!reader consciously seeks—it would just happen.

Maybe it’s because of the calmness she radiates, or because, unlike most people, she never shows disgust, fear, or resignation when facing an injury.

However, seeing such an indifferent expression on a child’s face in such a gruesome, chaotic scene full of injured people is unsettling.

Though it’s even worse to endure the pain after being healed, isn’t it?

That’s why I think, even if Damian wanted to learn from her, I’m not sure healer!reader could really teach him how to treat people, or even how to be a good doctor.

She herself never allowed her mind to approach healing in a traditional way, because her powers and skills are her refuge, her absolute security: she never fails at healing.

But that very gift also isolates her, because in Gotham, a place full of distrust and disdain toward most metahumans, revealing her ability would be a huge risk to her life.

I also think the same about how Damian would feel toward healer!reader because of her medical skills.

He might feel a mix of admiration, frustration, and envy, especially because, without knowing she’s a meta, he would desperately try to find a logical explanation for why she can do what others find almost impossible.

Why his seemingly weak and gentle sister has absurdly good medical knowledge…

That’s NOT right, she’s supposed to be normal… so why?

She’s supposed to be safe… why?

In short, the relationship between Damian and healer!reader would be complicated if we explored that aspect.

(Who knows? Maybe in a what if? if I get enough creativity!)

Awww! Thank you so much for your sweet words at the end, dear!

I’m really happy to know you like my writing, and I’m also sorry if this response was way too long!

[moon-creates]

Touchstarved Updated Demo Review

(Spoilers, obviously. You have been warned!)

I love the new Demo!

Obviously, after a whole year of knowing the old version and loving the characters in it, any changes will take a bit to get used to.

Now that I have given myself 24 hours to digest it properly, I can fully say the new version feels less like a demo and more like a great Introduction to a intriguing story. It almost felt like a "Chapter 1" of a multi-chapter story but I will reserve that title for the real chapter one (once we have chosen which route to follow).

Right off the bat we see that The Hound is no more, replaced by the new backstory "The Exile". But fret not, dear reader! Nobody is forcing you to take your blorbos out the back of your local seven-eleven and shoot them in the back of their heads. Your Hound blorbos shall continue to live on. It seems pretty easy to adapt the Hound MC's to the Exile. And if that is too much of a task, there is an ancient tradition of fan fiction, to scratch the itch that canon cannot scratch for you!

(My personal Opinion: Writing a Main Character that everyone will be happy with is already impossible. Every OC will have a trait (or multiple) that canon just cannot accommodate without alienating other readers. I understand the upset over the change, but I don't think that means its a bad change. I do hope to see more fanart and fanfiction from people, to highlight what exactly makes your MC special.)

Lets move on to the Pacing of the Demo. I really liked that they cut the old demo into two parts, making our MC experience the Intro over the span of two days instead of one. It does give us a pause to breathe and consider our options.

What are our options? Lets talk about the Love Interests!

KURAS

Mr. "So rude to ask about the surgery I performed on you". His introduction isn't much different to Version 1, though I enjoyed the evening route with him! I mean, he bought us food! (Honey Pistacio cookie YUM!) The new background is fucking beautiful and it fit the more calming, quiet vibes that Kuras has. (I cannot wait to see the monstrosities this man has committed.) I wished we actually got to touch his hand with the red option but maybe that would've been too much of a spoiler? It did gave me major Jesus vibes (and, weirdly, I don't mean that in a negative sense). It makes me wonder if he actually could cure us.

LEANDER

Leander got the most changes compared to his V1 counterpart. While he is still the Leander we mock and fear love, he has gotten so much better at manipulating us. All of his new expressions also show why he is so good at what he does - He seems so earnest. I had a hard time distrusting him at some points, even though I knew he wasn't to be trusted. He is so suspicious and I love that the MC can voice their suspicion and be so professionally and elegantly manipulated back into a place of trust and comfort. (Also I would've absolutely ridden that fucker on that bed. RSS why did you clitblock me so much-)

I like that the Adderstones (rip Bloodhounds) seem more like an organized network now rather than a street-fighter gang. Leander being more busy and access to him being restricted also adds to show just how important he is in Lowtown. He always seemed like a threat but now the danger has been dialed up a significant amount and I am SO here for it.

VERE

That blush was very cute! Personally I find Vere to be the hardest to decipher. His personality and what he actually wants from us is harder for me to place with him than with the others. He is playing with us, sure, but I wonder if he himself knows what he wants with us. Maybe I should take Ais word for it and pay more attention to his ears than what he is actually saying. I might understand him better then. But either way, he is a very intriguing character and I hope we get to see him fight in the full game! I also like that the Dev's are fully leaning into him expressing thing with his tail and ears. It's weirdly endearing for such a bloodhungry menace like him.

AIS

I just love this man. I love that the red-eyed woman got a name and much more personality now. She feels like a full character. I am fucking DEVASTATED that we didn't get a Princess sprite and I refuse to believe that she is not important enough for the story to get a sprite of her own. RSS, CHOP CHOP! His was the first 'route' in the demo I played and I just know it will be the first full route that I will play once the full game is released. Not much to say about him because he was already perfect to begin with and I thank RSS daily that we get to bite him [insert praying hands emoji].

MHIN

The changes fit them so well. Talking to themselves is such a fitting thing to do for someone who has no-one to truly talk to. You get more of a sense of their social awkwardness around others. Not in a shy sense but in a sense of struggling to connect with people. I love that we got to hear their inner thoughts about how the soulless body functions, wondering if they could see out of all the eyes and so forth. This time they told us they grew up in Eridia! So I am very curious to see what their story is and how our path with them might look like. Every time they glare at us I just wanna smooch them.

I feel like the Demo fulfilled its purpose fully. It introduced each Love Interest to us, showed us a peak of who they are and what might be in store for us down the line, without telling us too much. We get a feeling for our Setting (Eridia) and I hope MC gets to settle in more over the course of the story. We have great lines, beautiful art, expressive characters and Intriguing stories to follow. The amazing new music tied it all together perfectly.

So in conclusion: Good Update. Almost perfect! However, where is my girl princess, tho?

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 28/04

@worldweary-walker asked: Dad Egbert's genre friction with Homestuck is fun. He is about Serious Business… but he can take a joke! He has the very efficient Wallet Modus, but used a safe to store the note. A man of contrasts. A man of mystery…

Genuinely, the fact that he legitimately was a prankster despite his normie aesthetic is one of my favourite things about the man. Let's hope Dad Crocker is the same.

Anonymous asked: now that you've met her, the final Namco High character is Jane. you still can't play Namco High yet (I think the collection will automatically inform you when it's no longer spoilers) but soon. soon.

The fact that Namco High might actually include plot spoilers for Homestuck is hilarious.

In lieu of evidence to the contrary, I'm going to assume it's the only piece of Homestuck-adjacent media which actually explains the Aspects.

@honestlyvan asked: I hope whatever is going on with you is easygoing, and you don't feel too pressed about this side-project, tbh. I would also rather you take your time with it and enjoy yourself. @marineofthestars asked: 13/04? @gl1tchypyr0 asked: Are you planning anything for 4/13 because Homestuck day? Anonymous asked: so happy you're back! @ramdomartkid asked: Happy 4/13!!!!!!

Thank you - happy to be back!

Don't worry too much about the recent hiatuses - none of them have been prompted by anything serious. Sometimes, I'm just excessively busy, and need to catch my breath a little!

Anonymous asked: rereading your archive, dropping in a couple of my personal miscellaneous voice hc's while im here! John: Abed Nadir (Community) Feferi: Mabel Pines (Gravity Falls) Doc Scratch: The Narrator (The Stanley Parable)

Doc Scratch as the Narrator is inspired, and Mabel fits Feferi surprisingly well.

I've still never seen Community - and, in fact, I'm not sure I even know what it's about. I know about the pizza meme, of course, and I think they play Dungeons and Dragons at one point?

Anonymous asked: Is Sally being introduced to in-fandom memes at the point in the comic where they would have been popular, or are we just going off when they stop being spoilers?

(More the latter. If people want to spread the memes around, then as long as it isn't a spoiler, it gets a pass. And frankly, the two are usually pretty close together. - Vamp)

Yeah, what usually happens with Homestuck's major memes - Pantskat, for example - is that I'll get several asks referencing it immediately after it stops being a spoiler. My spoiler policy being what it is, I'm generally made aware of them during my next ask session after the fact!

@semaphoricwave asked: Hypothetically, if somebody wanted to write a fic about your trollsona's dancestor, would that spark joy or would you rather the hypothetical somebody didn't? The story you've laid out is fascinating and I (I mean, the hypothetical somebody) would really enjoy digging into it, but I also understand if that's not something you'd be interested in people doing with your trollsonas. Also follow-up in case it does spark joy: any other facts about Sahlee Senior that would be of interest to that hypothetical somebody? Either way hope you have a good week!

Absolutely! I'd be thrilled to read any fics involving my OCs. I've DMed you a short character profile on the Hostess that you can use for reference - and if you have any specific questions, feel free to ping me!

Anonymous asked: Just r3ad thr0ugh y0ur liv3bl0g, and I want3d t0 say h0w much I l0v3d r3ading it. Sup3r happy y0u d3cid3d t0 try 0ut th3 3pil0gu3s as well!¡! @heattth asked: I just wanted to say, I've been rereading the whole liveblog and it is a very fun experience. Thank you for having written it.

Thanks a bunch - it's always nice to get messages like this.

Seeing a post's note counter go up is a very abstract way to get feedback. Like, I'm aware that a ton of people are reading (and hopefully, enjoying) the posts, but it's still hard to conceptualize - so asks like this are a great way to make it feel real. I can see irrefutable evidence that people really are having a good time on TheWertsearch dot com, which is all I really ask for.

@mhafanlol2000 asked: Do you think about how Dave and Rose’s prophesied hero’s journeys both ended in suicide. What do you think that says about them? If I have to constantly think about this then so do you.

I think what it says the most is that Sburb loves suicide. It's the default way to achieve the God Tier, after all, and according to Terezi, the game actively wants the children who play it to wrestle with their own mortality.

This, to me, is one of the most explicitly malicious aspects of the game. It's really not necessary to achieve Skaia's stated goals, and I'm unconvinced that traumatizing these children makes them more effective custodians of a universe.

@caliquill asked: dropping in to say - jane is maybe my favourite homestuck character so it brings me great joy to see you cracking at her flaws in a genuine manner. thank you :]

Jane's great so far. She's not a carbon copy of John - and, honestly, she feels like the most unique of the B2 kids so far.

Hussie already had a framework to build on with Dirk, Roxy and Jake, but Nannasprite's main traits were 'grandma', 'ghost', and 'clown', none of which should logically transfer to Jane. She had to be mostly original.

@spiddermen asked: bowman just released a new track for the 16th anniversary! it's awesome and doesnt have any spoilies, it's called on the thirteenth day

Ooh, I'd love to give it a listen!

If anyone can link me a non-spoilery upload of the song, I'd appreciate it. YouTube and Bandcamp are both danger zones, and I'm not sure where else you might find it.

@faggoatquixote asked: “GT: Right o! If a man believes hard enough in imaginary things then i dare say that makes them slightly less fake!” Sounds a lot like talk from another Page boy I know… Rufio anyone?

Which is kind of weird, right?

I assumed Jake's 'belief' schtick was due to him being a Hope Player - but Tavros has said some similar things, and he shares Jake's class, rather than his aspect.

I suppose not every character trait has to be informed by a Player's Title. After all, Jade used to be defined by her clairvoyance, and she's no Seer.

@bellcarved asked: In defense of Jake, he lives alone on an island and has literally run out of people to talk to about this (unless he were to do something like ask Jane to hand her phone to her father and got advice from him)

Oh, for sure. Everything these kids are doing wrong is totally understandable, due to their frankly bizarre home lives - and Jake, in particular, appears to have been living completely alone on that island for some time, which is bound to stunt the guy's social development.

In retrospect, I'm kind of surprised that Jade turned out as well as she did.

@bladekindeyewear asked: And as expected, Kid Bro's hair is ALSO a bird, just a different one than Dave's.

Dirk's just trying to blend in with the local fauna, like his brother before him.

@elkian asked: A fun fandom trend is to give the ectogroups portmanteau names. "Strilondes" was pretty easy, but the Prospit quartet presents some difficulties and is usually an unholy amalgamation along the lines of "Crockerberts" "Harlenglishes" and the ambitious combination of all four like "Harlegbercrockerenglishes" and so on. (I feel like there was a particular one with a lot of staying power but can't recall it exactly.) There's still Reddit threads of the debates around here and there.

This is why I just call 'em the Prospit squad.

I tried to make something that's at least pronounceable, and came up with the Harkersherts. Not a lot of English in there, though.

Anonymous asked: "and I’d bet Boondollars to donuts that Jake and Roxy have 'em too." Come on, 'boondollars to bronuts' was right there.

Damn it! I really do need to step up my bro-punning now that our second Strider has entered the story.

@ben-guy asked: (in regards to your theory about B2 Dave having memory leaks possibly making him interested in Con Air) "something about an old friend" Emphasis on the "old" in this timeline lmao

Oh, good point. It is possible that Dave could have met Poppop Crocker at some point, especially if he was in contact with his Seer sister.

Maybe it wasn't his pre-Scratch memories. Maybe he learned about Con Air directly from the source, after all. <3

Anonymous asked: ”Kneel before Cal” Lil’ dude even if you don’t Know. That’s hella ominous yo

Dirk feels like the kind of guy who doesn't realize how foreboding some of his sentences actually are. He'd do numbers on Tumblr, and you know it.

...I guess, technically, he has done numbers on Tumblr. lmao

@elkian asked: Jane-Dirk is genuinely one of my favorite character dynamics in the entire comic so I'm delighted that they're resonating with you, too! Their conversations are so fun.

Yup! As I said, I'm really happy that Jane, in particular, is not just a remix of John. The way she relates to her friends is quite different from anything we've seen from Egbert - or anyone else, for that matter.

I really hope that this friend group doesn't collapse into some sort of nightmare love quadrangle, because I really am enjoying these dynamics, and I want to see more.

Anonymous asked: Do you think that when you are done for the day you could note that? Maybe as a tag or something? Then people would know to stop checking to see if you add another post?

I would, but the problem is that I never really know if I'm actually done for the day - not until the day is already over. See, I usually just liveblog until I get distracted, and often return later in the evening for a second round - that is, if I haven't fallen asleep before I've had the chance. Perils of ADHD, I guess.

I suppose I could add such a tag the day after a liveblogging session, but that sounds like it'd be too late to be useful for your use case. :/

Anonymous asked: Okay, so Lil' Bro gave both Jake the Brobot, and Jane Sebastian. What do you think Roxy's inevitable robo-buddy will be like?

There is absolutely no universe in which it isn't a cat.

Anonymous asked: Sorry about the spoiler! A while ago, I did some testing on YouTube and incognito mode because I was curious, and I found that, unfortunately, Google isn't fooled by it. YouTube's algorithm definitely prioritizes things you watch in normal mode, presumably to be subtle about this, but it also definitely knows what you watch in incognito. The effect becomes more obvious with an account that watches zero or very few videos in normal mode. (I tested this 3-4 years ago, so I can't say for certain that the specifics haven't changed, but I don't see why they'd have stopped doing this since then.)

Targeting algorithms are just too damn good these days. All I can really do is avoid watching Homestuck videos on my main account, employ a VPN, and hope for the best.

Anonymous asked: More like DORK strider

Fuckin' get him!

@mrjocrafter asked: I mean, you did get this three months ago

Those names were listed in order of likelihood - so yes, I expected it to be Dick. I really did.

Dick Strider seemed like exactly the kind of move Hussie would pull...

@library-seraph asked: Fun fact: when Dirk's name hit the comic, people were upset it wasn't Dick. Hussie still used tumblr back then, so they made a post saying that, as a small dagger, dirk is still a dick joke, and they're annoyed people would want them to go for the lowest hanging dick joke Anonymous asked: You're not alone. A significant majority of the fandom at the time also expected "Dick", enough that Hussie actually addressed it by saying that would have been too on-the-nose. IIRC, Hussie also described "Dirk Strider" as sounding more like a male porn star's stage name, while clearly implying that this is a major upside.

...but I suppose that's exactly why they didn't.

Low-hanging fruit is all well and good, but you can't always choose the path of least resistance, or your story will just keep getting flatter.

@shelbybunny asked: remember this post you made when you liveblogged jack: ascend, and how you wished they had a poster of that sburb shot? well good news PS: i’m pretty sure you can take a look at the full store now, but i’d have someone double-check just in case

(The store is, in fact, spoiler-free now. - V)

Oh, hell yeah!

I'm not going to pretend I'm not tempted - and not just by the poster, either. Those captchalogue boards look great, too.

In order to preserve just a little bit of hope for myself, I'm not going to look up the shipping costs to Europe until tomorrow.

@clueless-rarito asked: While Dave rambles fells a lot like a stream of consciousness that just spills out randomly in the middle of conversations, Dirk's fell extremely intentional and precisely deployed, make you fell he meticulously choose each word to be as full of complete bullshit as humanly possible.

Turns out, Rose and Dave's vibes blend together almost seamlessly. I could probably have told you they would beforehand, but it's still great to see it in action!

@sanctferum asked: Heiress Sans Parent could just refer to Jane's ectobiological origins as a true paradox rather than the beta kids who have ectobiological parents. (The alpha kids are clones of themselves, after all.) Well, either a reference to that or a hint that Dad Crocker is secretly a funny skeleton man.

It better be something like that. If Dad dies again, I'm ragequitting.

@aceotaku asked: when it comes to Jane's scepticism, while being a product of the Condesce's subliminal messaging IS a possibility, Dirk raises another one: that Jane simply only believes things if she's seen them with her own eyes directly, if she has direct proof of them. She's seen prospit in her dreams, she has no reason to think anything anyone says about it is wrong. The things she dismisses are things she hasn't seen directly and thus just thinks it's not true for reasons. or maybe I'm wrong XP

Nah, that's a good take. Jane's a bit of a cautionary tale, then, about how stubborn empiricism can severely limit your understanding of a concept or situation.

Sometimes, you really do have to take a leap of faith.

@liliflower137 asked: Hello!! I only just started reading your liveblog and I just want to say I love your commentary SO much, I read it pretty late (just between it ending and it being sold to viz media so the old website was still around) so my FAVORITE part of homestuck was always the mechanics of sburb, the alchemy stuff is just so cool!! So seeing you theorize about things and talk about how data structures work makes me so so happy, I hope you're having lots of fun!!!

Thank you! I really hope we get some post-Scratch alchemy binges - but sadly, I don't think it's guaranteed, as we're unlikely to be rehashing everything we've seen before.

Even so, there's got to be more we can learn about Homestuck's alchemy system... right?

Anonymous asked: congrats on finally reaching the end of one of Homestuck's Biggest Jokes. The Gift Of Gab.

I'm still hyped over those Dialoglogs - not least because it removes the main metabarrier which was preventing these kids from hanging out in person.

Let's fucking go! It's time!

@sashonya asked: Oh yeah, just a small aside as I'm sure you're going to realize in a bit. It's better to say the full "Act 6 Act 1" instead of "Act 6.1" since the intermissions also count as "Act 6.1"

Hmm. Well, it's pretty easy for me to edit my organizational tags retroactively, so I'll see what format works the best for me, going forward.

Generally, I prefer for these tags to be shorter, though - so if Act 6.1 Intermission needs its own tag, I might write it as Act 6.1.I, or something.

@jack-off-valentine asked: When, exactly, did AH pull an Aradiabot?

I initially asked myself the same question - but by now, I've learned to treat Hussie interludes as the breaks from canon they are.

We're probably never going to be told what's up with robo-Hussie, the same way that we'll never learn why Falkor the Luck Dragon has Lord English's cueball eyes. It's just Hussie being Hussie.

@pineapple-temporarily-moving asked: "By now, Jade should know why she arranged for herself to grab the Wall - but she's acting like she only did it because Karkat told her to. Maybe I'm just misinterpreting what she's saying." future jade told karkat to tell past jade to captchalogue the window because she remembered being told that by karkat (and karkat telling her that she told him to tell her that). it is simply one of homestuck's ubiquitous causal loops and it ultimately technically was only because karkat told her to LOL

Oh, god damn it, you're probably right.

Damn stable loops and their originless information. As much as I love time travel stories, this still has to be one of the least satisfying ways you could possibly resolve a plot thread.

@sanctferum asked: So, Jade, who just became a god tier Witch with striped leggings and ruby red shoes, levels up to Sayonara Kansas as she and John embark upon the Yellow Ruler Yard. Her god-tier self was formed from her living self and Jadesprite, a version of herself too cowardly to do anything despite her incredible power. Jadesprite used to be Dream Jade, whose physical counterpart on Earth was, thanks to Grandpa's inventions, a robotic version of Jade rather than Jade herself. A tin woman, one might say. Dream Jade herself was, prior to her death, notably absent-minded in a way no other dream self has shown themselves to be. It seems likely Hussie originally intended all dream selves to be this way while "asleep", but in the end only Jade acted like her brain was sleeping along with her body. And said dream self ended up being stuffed, of course. Do I need to elaborate on who Toto is in this analogy? No, I don't think I do. Original waking Jade is Dorothy. Jade's all of the Oz cast at once!

Even better:

The climax of Dorothy's story is her learning to teleport!

[tobesolnelyx]

— rush || jackieshauna x fem!reader (challengers au!) 🎾

a/n: AGAIN, extremely light and silly idea that just spawned in my head and i decided to post lmao. i love this movie with all my heart. might expand this eventually.

summary: they invited you to their hotel room.

warnings: make out session! (non-smut)

hotel was weirdly quiet at this time. your steps were soft but rushed when you were going through hallways. you kept repeating number of their room in your head.

there’s no need to be a genius — you knew why they invited you over. you weren’t really nervous. not to mention, that you waited until last moment to go there.

you could play with both of them as much as you wanted. and they would obey. every, single time.

when you stood in front of their door, you could’ve heard their muffled conversation. you hesitated and then you knocked.

silence.

you knocked again.

then you heard the rush inside. cacophony of different sounds. shoving things into trash, cans being tossed away, beds made out.

and then they answered. shauna was standing there, leaning against the doorframe, grinning like the devil. trying to be all smug but the redness of her cheeks betrayed her. she was nervous.

jackie was sitting on the floor somewhere beside shauna. beer bottle clutched in her hand. there was visible tension in her arms.

“hey,” you said simply. “am i interrupting?”

you obviously weren’t. but it was fun to see them squirm, trying to impress you.

honestly, what was wrong with the two of them? cause something definitely was. and you were trying to figure it out.

“of course not—!”

“interrupting?”

they both started talking at the same time. you tilted your head to side and after few seconds you stepped inside. like you were owning this place.

maybe not place in particular. but them both? sure as hell.

before you knew, you had beer can in your hand. they were both at your sides, trying to get your attention. both squirming, laughing and saying the most ridiculous things. desperate for your attention. it was fun. dangerously similar to tennis game.

you didn’t quiet know how you came up with that idea and why exactly you did. but in your head it was brilliant.

at some point, somewhere between talking and them fighting over you — you sat on the bed. patted places next to you.

they were at your sides at instant. jackie on your left, shauna on your right. waiting.

you smiled innocently.

“im not a home wrecker” you said looking at both of them.

shauna scoffed like that idea was ridiculous.

“doubt you can ruin anything” jackie said.

interesting. you shrugged and after a moment, you leaned to tangle hands in shauna’s hair. all cocky, she cupped your face. she didn’t pulled you closer though. good. you were in charge here.

kissing her was hot and messy. her lips were rough and urgent. like she couldn’t get enough of you. her hands were gripping your face, her tongue slid inside your lips.

jackie watched. intensely. like shauna just stole something from her. or maybe you stole something. you couldn’t tell.

you pulled away when shauna’s hands slid on your waist, trying to get you closer. you didn’t let her. you left her panting and flushed.

you turned to jackie.

she was way softer. her hand on your neck, fingers trailing your skin gently, worshipping, almost. you smiled into the kiss. she was even more submissive. you deepened the kiss, nipping her lower lip and she let out a soft noise at the back of her throat. you gripped her chin and pulled away.

both of them were sitting in front of you. panting, staring at you like you were heaven sent. waiting for more. silently begging.

shauna’s brown eyes were piercing a hole in your face. jackie licked her lips.

you eventually pulled them both to a kiss.

[slushingkoala]

Rewritten

-series

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

The phone call

You’re a pretty big deal for unemployed people. You’re a YouTuber everyone knows and loves. You’d done many collabs with people like Drew and Enya, Quenlin Blackwell. You had the perfect amount of niche fame.

However, there was somebody you’d never seen eye to eye with, Hamzah. Ever since early freak show you just had an off vibe about him, whilst you were doing one of your 5-hour live streams, someone asked you what you thought about Freakshow and everything that was happening on there. You said nothing but positive remarks about the other three, but when it came on for you to discuss Hamzah you simply said “I mean, sure, you can blow up if you’re hot and fake enough. Being funny and contributing doesn’t matter anymore I guess.”

This really struck a nerve for Hamzah, and as soon as he saw a clip of you saying that on his for you page, he was quick to start a stream of his own and go on to call you “boring and unoriginal”, going as far to say ‘you just feed off other peoples fame, and you never do anything yourself.’

From that point on you both hated each other, people thought you guys were just joking, and it was some sort of weird bit you both did, but you just truly hated him.

You tried to keep yourself as the bigger person, claiming Hamzah was just milking it for clout and needed to do something other than sit on his ass for 12 hours and stream.

Your fans and his would eat all of this up, always having things to upload about ‘shady’ tweets and how you guys would always find ways to make small yet hurtful digs at each other.

Hamzah would often do sneak disses such as saying you built an audience off yelling into a mic and being other peoples dog, desperate for their approval and attention.

It was now 2025, Hamzah had his successful YouTube channel Slushynoobz with his best friend Martin and you had found your fame doing YouTube, regularly collaborating with big names and finding joy in doing work with clothing brands whilst still doing your gaming videos for fun. Life was good.

Yes, you still see clips of Hamzah on your phone occasionally, but all you could do was scroll. You know he actually did this whole bit in a video where he used your name as the ‘enemy’ in one of the games him and Martin were playing. You just found it pathetic and kept moving forward.

It was a Wednesday morning, 11am and you’d just gotten out of bed and were sitting on your couch. Suddenly, your phone rang. It was your manger so, of course, you pick up.

“Hey, just got something super interesting. Major opportunity.”

Why was she being so vague? She’s usually way more laid back.

“Uh-huh. What’s the catch?”

“Okay, okay — so you know that internet culture docuseries that’s been floating around? They specifically requested you for it. You. Big star. Face of the whole thing.”

You narrow your eyes, I mean yeah, sure you were pretty big but you being the face of the thing? Really?

“Uh-huh. And?” You sound skeptical, sitting up and picking at your nails as you listen.

“And… they want you to co-star. You’ll be one of two main creators they follow across multiple episodes. Your story. Your rise. Super authentic, great exposure.” She was speaking superfast at this point, what’s her problem?

“Who’s the other creator?” You knew you had to ask, it all just sounded too good to be true.

Your manager does a long pause, sighing.

“Funny thing. Totally unexpected. But guess who else has had a pretty fun internet fame experience?”

You’re not stupid. You instantly know who she’s referring to.

“No.”

“Listen, listen. I know the history. But it’s perfect! The internet is obsessed with your feud. This’ll make you trend in your sleep.”

You grit your teeth, she can’t be serious.

“You’re telling me they want me to spend three months or some shit like that trapped with Hamzah?” Your voice raises as you say his name, the taste of it bitter on your tongue.

“You could completely reinvent your image. You guys could come together and everyone will wanna watch this show and watch all those little scenes of you guys getting along! Even people who don’t watch you guys anymore will probably stick it on for nostalgia or something. It’s a good idea come on y/n.”

“I would rather be hit by a bus.” You say simply. Why would you want to work with Hamzah? The arrogant, unfunny, self - obsessed weirdo.

Your manager was practically pleading at this point.

“Look, the brand deals lined up for this are insane. Travel budgets. Promo. You’ve been saying you want to do some fun and bigger projects? This is it. If you miss this you will 100% regret it.”

“I- listen, I’ll think about it, okay? Give me until Sunday and I’ll have your answer yeah?”

You run your fingers through your hair frustratingly, you know she’s right about how big of an opportunity this is. But it feels like you’re being exploited. Like your deep-rooted hatred for this man is going to end up being portrayed as this silly internet feud.

“I hope you make the smart choice here y/n. I’ll speak to you soon yeah?”

“Yeah.”

a/n: hey guys i’ve been gone for AGES (like 15 days) but im back and gonna try stay motivated to do this! Maybe it sucks but oh well here you go!

[sugarhog05]

Sun usually loves parties. He used to not think it was possible for there to be a bad party. And then Eclipse started taking him to political parties. By the stars did he loathe political parties. He’s yet to find another animatronic royal that didn’t bore him to absolute death.

So when Sun made his way to the balcony outside instead of mingling like he usually did, you grew concerned. You desperately followed behind him in the split of the crowd he made as he walked. You ignored the judging stares of the guests, knowing that they disapproved of a human being amongst them. You sighed as you stepped outside, the immediate relief of getting out from the crowded space was immense. Sun was unusually quiet as he leaned onto the marble railing.

“Prince Sun?” You waited, and each passing moment made your chest tighten with worry. “My Prince, is everything alright?”

You jump as Sun lets out a loud groan, “I hate these stupid parties! All everyone talks about is trade routes and territories and, and… arranged marriages! It’s maddening!” You take a deep breath before joining him at the railing. It was almost comical how tall the railing was in comparison to you, as it came up to your shoulders. You opt for leaning your back against it instead of looking out over the castle grounds like Sun currently was. He glances over at you, and does an incredibly poor job of hiding his amusement at this fact.

You give him a glare, “Oh, quit it. It’s not my fault you animatronics are so tall.” He laughs before giving you a blinding grin, “I didn’t say anything!” You side eye him, but say nothing. The two of you sit in silence for a while, the only sound to accompany you is the muffled music and chatter from inside. You sigh in contentment at his side, him glancing at you a moment. The midsummer air was slightly humid, and the sky was completely clear. A peaceful night to be sure.

“So… not a fan of politics? Must be difficult considering you’re a Prince and all.” You want to comfort him, but it had never been a strength of yours. You curse yourself, as you’d never felt it necessary to learn social skills. Opting instead for your sword to do most of the talking. After a bit of silence you glance over at him, and you’re surprised to see him staring back. He quickly averts his gaze, going back to looking over the grounds. His cheeks a slightly warmer color.

“N-no, not really. It’s something that’s never really interested me. Trade and relations with other nations have always been more of Eclipse and Moons thing. If I had the choice I probably wouldn’t be here at all.” He sighs before continuing, “But! We must keep up appearances.” He gives you a strained smile, and you wish for nothing more than to bring back that wonderful grin he wore moments prior.

“Well… no one’s around right now. You don’t have to wear a mask right now… if you’re comfortable with that, of course. I don’t mean to overstep, my Prince.” You quickly add on that last part, realizing how unprofessional you had sounded. You look over at him, hoping that you don’t see an offended Prince in front of you. You’re taken off guard however, as his expression is one of complete surprise.

“You… you didn’t overstep. I am just… surprised to see you care so much. I truly appreciate that, my Swordsman.” He leans down, hands folded neatly behind his back. You still have to crane your neck to look at him, and your chest feels like it’s about to leap out of your chest. You hope with how close he is he can’t see your face through your helmet, because you can physically feel your face being scorched by a blush. You gulp, “…Your Swordsman?” He shoots up and his hands start to wave wildly.

“W-well, that is to say- I mean…” You cut him off, “Shh… My Prince, be quiet a moment.” He instantly shuts up, his eyes widening as you draw your beloved sword from its sheath. The air is still, before suddenly erupting into chaos. Metal against metal clangs loudly in your ears, but you are unrelenting in your defense of your Prince. There are three of them you note as the red and blue one, their leader you assumed, barked orders in a language you could not understand. The green animatronic and the pink and blue one form a pincer maneuver, and you curse under your breath. The green one is slightly faster than the pink and blue one, so you side step around Sun and slice at wires that were exposed at the knee joints. It instantly buckles as the connection to its central processor is cut.

You pivot and duck behind Sun just as the pink and blue one reaches him. They put up a bit more of a fight but you quickly disarm them. As they stagger backwards you seize the opportunity and cleave straight through where their head meets their shoulders. You usher Sun back towards the doors, making sure to keep your body between him and the third assassin. This third assassin looks to his fallen comrades and a rage that hadn’t been there before overtakes his face. He comes at you with a strength and vigor only an animatronic could possess, and he begins to over whelm you. He takes the opportunity to make a move for Sun, and you have to make a decision. You raise your sword defensively to protect Sun, knowing you would leave yourself open. The assassin takes the opportunity to slash at your side, but you are able to drive your sword in between where his chest plate and stomach meet. Effectively piercing directly into his fuel line, the equivalent of a heart for animatronics. He staggers back, your sword still in his grasp. You watch him as he falls backwards, dead.

You stalk over to the green animatronic, who falls back and desperately attempts to scoot away from you. You kick him in the chest causing him to lay flat on his back. As you stand over him he pleads for you not to kill him. At least, you’re 90% sure that’s what he was saying. You’d seen it many times before, even if you couldn’t understand exactly what he was saying. You kneel down, one foot on his forearm and your gloved hand roughly grasping his circuitry.

“Do you understand me?” You ask monotonously, and when he doesn’t answer you lean into the foot on his forearm. The plating starts to warp under the pressure and his face twists in pain. “Yes! Yes, I understand.” He breaks disappointingly quickly. “Who sent you?” He looks around frantically before becoming deathly still as your grip tightens on the vital circuitry that runs along his neck. “Who. Sent. You.” He starts to cry oily tears, mumbling pathetically. “Can’t say… can’t. Kill me if I do.” You put your full weight onto his forearm and there’s a sickening crack as it breaks in half. He cries in agony.

“I’ll kill you if you don’t.” You say coldly as he writhes beneath you. He feels uncomfortably hot as his fans work on overdrive to cool him due to his panic. “Rabbit… rabbit! All I can say!” You narrow your eyes. “Good enough.” There’s a look of hope in his eyes that is quickly replaced by a blank stare as you violently rip out the wires that made him, him. You turn to the red and blue one and kneel before him. You grasp the handle of your sword and rip it from him, a viscous oil spurts out as you do, getting all over the front of your shirt. You curse, and turn your head towards Sun.

“Are you okay my Prince?” …Your Prince does not respond.

[4ranghaes]

dad!bnd ~ their kids

ot5 bnd x reader [fluff, fem!reader] (in theory lol this is actually just headcanons)

a/n: just plagued with dad!bnd recently and i wanted to share my specific headcanons of them as dads and of their kids💓💓

sungho🎀

is the no.1 encourager of his children all the time, in whatever they do he’ll support it all. plays really well with his sons, and absolutely adores his daughter to the end of the earth. had children quite early and his sons close together, and kyunghee was a surprise a few years later…

(there’s not a specific reason i chose for sungho to name his kids these names i just think they fit sungho’s vibe lol !! but namgi/남기 can mean masculine foundation which i thought was cool for the eldest son, then changmin/창민 can mean good and strong, and kyunghee/경희 can mean honour and beauty :3)

- namgi - resembles sungho when he was young, wears thick glasses, a sweet quiet boy, with quite a nerdy personality

- changmin - looks more like older sungho, short hair, more athletic, facially more like his mum, but inherited sungho’s natural muscle

- kyunghee - SO pretty, has sungho’s fox-like eyes and soft features, long black hair, such a sweet, loving personality

riwoo🍡🦦

so proud, always bragging about his children to anyone who will listen. knows all their preferences at any time. mostly looks at them lovingly from afar and only gets involved with playing and stuff when they ask. had kids a bit later than the other members, once he was absolutely sure he wouldn’t mess up.

(their names have fresh meanings of glass (yuri/유리) (but also in hanja means bringing kindness), and dew (wooseul/우슬) also yuri wooseul >~<)

- yuri - loves dance, often dressed in sporty style, mid-length hair, has riwoo’s eyes and strong nose, wears glasses

- wooseul - has a bob, very shy but confident, has riwoo’s eyes but looks more like her mum overall

jaehyun🪻🐕

always on the verge of tears because of how much he loves them and how proud of them he is, giving them so much praise and plays often. he’s number 1 girl dad and won’t have anyone say anything about ‘being outnumbered’ or ‘still trying for that boy?’. all the girls are close together in age cause he wanted them to remain friends.

(their names all have flower meanings!!! jangmi/장미 is rose, nari/나리 is lily, and dongbaek/동백 is camellia!! also dongbaek is a pretty unusual name but its korea’s official flower..just a note lol😭)

- jangmi - very hip/street style, has a short black bob, long-ish cat-shape eyes, and jae’s pretty cupids bow!!!!

- nari - so cute, big boba eyes and soft features just like her dad (looks the most like jae), curly hair, uneven teeth (and the most beautiful smile ever)

- dongbaek - big curly hair, but overall looks more like her mum, BUT has myungjae’s smile. like just transforms into her dad when she smiles. also loves producing music

taesan🎸🐈‍⬛

just the best dad ever. he loves being a dad and is equal parts rational, protective and loving when it comes to his kids. talks with them so often, and i think his family would be very close overall. had kids quite young cause he’s always known he wants a family. the kids are very close in age, but that more has to do with taesan wanting to get you pregnant than anything to do with the kids…

(their names are all unusual with traditional meanings, cause i figured if dongmin liked the name taesan, he’d like those types of names!! baekho/백호 means white tiger, seulgi/슬기 means wisdom, and deoksu/덕수 means moral and prosperous)

- baekho - quite sporty and masculine, has short hair with tae’s natural reddy brown colour, facially has more of his mum’s features than taesan’s but his laugh is exactly the same as his dads

- seulgi - the SHINIEST big brown eyes!! has big lips like her dad too, probably has the most resemblance to tae but also is still very feminine, with long brown hair

- deoksu - very much inherits his dad’s interest of rock and music in general, i see him wearing thick glasses a lot, has shaggy black hair, and taesan’s eyes, but apart from that looks like his mum

leehan🪸🐠

a very chill dad, but his heart is actually bursting from afar, and that’s all he’d talk about to you and the boys: how much he loves and how proud he is of his kids. really good at playing with them bc of his imagination, and they help raise his fish >~< i think there’d be a semi-big age gap between the kids (7) because leehan’s so happy with just his little girl but when she gets old enough she starts asking for a sibling and whose leehan to deny his daughter’s wishes?!?!

(hehe i chose these names with the thought of the character su/수 in hanja having a water-based meaning, so sua/수아 in this instance means child of the water, and haesu/해수 means ocean water!!)

- sua - just so beautiful, looks quite a lot like her dad with the eyes/eye smile and lips, other features are her mum’s, and has a lot of moles

- haesu - curly hair !! also has a LOT of resemblance to his dad, with the eyes, straight eyebrows, big lips, i think he’d have a very cutesy image