#i should probably start adding descriptions to these huh

[zirconpetals]

You really can't write something that would be compliant to both tos and aos. Even if the personalities & physical appearances were the same somehow, there's for example the fact that tos!Spock is a character that exists as himself in aos (in addition to aos!Spock) and influences the events of the story a lot. (& other elements of worldbuilding are different too)

You can however make your own "reboot" where you pick the elements of different incarnations as you prefer and match them together. This is something that's really popular in a lot of other fandoms I'm in & it can be really fun. (Of course, in most fandoms I'm in those also come with character redesigns & the characters usually have colorful and/or eccentric designs whereas in tos/aos the main cast is just (mostly) humans wearing uniforms so there's not as much opportunity to exercise your creativity at least in that aspect...)

me when someone tags something as tos but then mentions jim and bones at the academy together

[foolexby]

Burn with me.

Notes: Firefighter!James Potter x Nurse!Reader. This is the most self insert I have ever done. Written for the first week of the Festival of AUs by @acourtofchaos. "Subtle" flirting.

WC: 2.7k

CW: Descriptions of injuries, kinda.

Navigation

It was a remarkably calm day in the ER—one of those you quietly thank the universe for. The monitors beeped in a steady rhythm, the hallways were clean and quiet, and the coffee machine hadn’t broken down—yet. No one was screaming. No one was crying. No one was bleeding. In short: a glorious anomaly.

You even allowed yourself to sit for a few minutes, go over medical charts, and joke around with your coworkers. But deep down, you felt it. You knew this was just a dangerous truce. Deep down, everyone in the hospital knew the same: after the calm always comes the storm.

And you were right. Because at exactly 3:42 PM, the automatic doors burst open, and with them, chaos entered. The sound of an ambulance. Then another. And another. The screech of rushing wheels, voices drowned in urgency, and that unmistakable smell of smoke rushed into your nostrils, burning more than just the air.

Three stretchers. Two unconscious adults, a crying child with eyes full of ash and fear. Your hands were already moving before your mind could fully process it���guiding one of the paramedics, calling for supplies, checking vital signs. And still, among the chaos, one constant: him.

A firefighter in a soot-covered uniform came in nearly alongside the stretchers, covered to the eyebrows, but his gaze steady. James Potter. You knew him well—more than you'd like to admit. By now it almost seemed like a habit to see him in the hospital at least once a week, whether for minor injuries, burns, or some other bump from a rescue gone out of control.

“Beds two and three for the adults, room one for the kid!” you shouted within seconds, as the team began moving the patients. “And I don’t want this firefighter here for another endless shift, understood?” you added teasingly, barely glancing his way as you organized the beds.

James looked at you with that slight grin—that confident, ever-present smile, even in critical moments.

“Coming through!” he replied, trying not to make more noise than necessary as he walked toward you, hiding just how exhausted he really was. “Didn’t miss me at all, huh?”

“You’re shameless.” You turned a little, avoiding letting your face light up too much from seeing those dark eyes meeting yours. “You really think I’m used to seeing you walk in here injured every week?”

James let out a soft laugh, though there was a bit of tension in his voice.

“Who else would worry about me if not you?” he added jokingly.

At that moment, one of the paramedics came up to you, cutting the conversation short.

“The arm wound isn’t serious, but...” the paramedic said, pointing out a superficial burn. “It should still be looked at right away.”

You turned to look at James, who had already started taking off his gear with that same absurd calm he always showed. You knew he was used to danger, but there was something about him—something in that constant familiarity between the two of you—that made you feel the danger wasn’t only out there, but in every single moment your paths crossed.

“Sit,” you said firmly, pointing at one of the nearby chairs.

James raised his hands in an exaggerated gesture of surrender, but not without adding, “If you give me a spot on a bed, I promise not to cause you any more trouble.”

“That’s what you said last time, Potter,” you replied as you pulled out supplies to clean the wound. “And the time before that. And the one before that.”

James shrugged. He watched you with a mix of amusement and exhaustion, his dark hair clinging to his forehead from sweat and heat, his eyes still bright despite everything. You gently placed the stethoscope on his chest, just below the collar of his scorched uniform. His skin was still hot—probably from the smoke and exertion—but what worried you more was his heart rate. Too fast.

“Scale from one to ten?” you asked, slipping on your gloves and grabbing the saline to clean the area.

“Pain or how much I wanted to see you?” he replied, tilting his head with a crooked smile.

“Pain, Potter.” You wiped the wound a little harder than necessary, and he let out a small grunt.

“You’re enjoying this,” he murmured, half a smirk curling at the edge of his lips despite the sting.

“Immensely,” you replied without missing a beat, reaching for a new piece of gauze. “It’s the highlight of my shift, really—causing minor suffering to cocky firefighters.”

He laughed under his breath, the sound low and warm, but it tapered into a quiet sigh as he looked at you.

“I might like it here. The views are pretty nice.”

“The fluorescent lights? The blood?” you returned without looking up, but your tone held a hidden smile.

“Not exactly. More like you—with that annoyed expression you give me every time I show up. Makes me feel… special.”

James fell quiet for a few seconds, watching you work. You could feel his gaze, like he was trying to memorize every movement.

“You know,” he finally said in a lower voice, “I think I’ve got a special talent for ending up in your hands.”

You let out a sigh. Not from annoyance—resignation. He always had something to say. Always found the exact moment to disarm you. “Are you putting yourself at risk just to end up here so I’ll patch you up? Because if so, you might want to get that checked out,” you said without looking at him.

James smiled. Sometimes you wondered if he used that smile on everyone, or if it only softened that much when it was meant for you.

“I swear I’m not doing it on purpose. But if every time something happens, I end up seeing you... I won’t complain.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, gently cleaning the burn on his forearm. He clenched his jaw but didn’t complain. He just kept looking at you, as if pain became background noise when you were near.

“Have you eaten anything today?” you asked, mentally checking through his stats.

“Had a coffee at six this morning. That counts, right?”

“Sure, and if you die, we’ll put an espresso pod on your headstone.” You sighed. “You need more than caffeine and a good attitude to survive what you do.”

James adjusted his seat and let out a breath. His brows were smudged with ash, and he had a small cut on his forehead he hadn’t even noticed yet. His eyes wandered the room, as if confirming everyone else was being taken care of.

“The kid?” he asked suddenly, his tone shifting to serious in an instant.

You paused for a second before answering.

“Stable. Breathing’s steady, second-degree burns. They’re stabilizing him.” Your fingers touched his arm gently. “Good job.”

As you finished dressing the burn on his forearm, you noticed a slight tremor in his left hand. He noticed it too.

“How long were you inside the fire this time?” you asked quietly, without sarcasm.

James took a second to answer.

“Seven minutes, give or take. The kid was trapped. I couldn’t leave him.”

You nodded. You knew he was that kind of person—the kind who ran into the fire without thinking of himself.

“James, how many lives do you think you’ve got left? Because it looks like you’re burning through all of them in a month.”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes dropped slightly, and for a moment, the smile disappeared. What replaced it was a flicker of sincerity he rarely showed.

“I just make sure it’s worth it every time I run into the flames.”

And then someone called your name from the back of the ER. Another emergency. Another patient. You looked at James one last time before removing your gloves and walking away.

“You’re going straight to observation for one hour. And don’t even think about sneaking out this time.”

“Can I have a personal nurse? I’ve got a favorite, you know.”

You didn’t answer. Just turned on your heel and walked away. But even as you left, you could feel his eyes following you all the way.

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

The clock read 8:03 PM, and your feet hurt as if you'd spent days walking barefoot on burning concrete. The shift had been long—full of stitches, arguments with exhausted interns, and a patient who wouldn’t stop yelling that she’d rather have her cat as a doctor.

You crossed the hospital lobby with your earbuds halfway in, your hair half up, and your scrubs wrinkled. Outside, it was already dark, stars shining above, and you could feel that crisp autumn breeze.

Leaning against one of the columns by the entrance, hands behind his back and—for once—not wearing that damned uniform that felt like a second skin. This time he wore a simple gray t-shirt, jeans, and a jacket you recognized—probably the one he’d left behind the last time you treated him.

But it wasn’t the outfit that made you stop on tracks.

It was the bouquet of flowers in his hands.

“What… are you doing here?” you asked, crossing your arms and trying to sound indifferent, though you knew perfectly well the warmth rising in your cheeks was giving you away.

James smiled. Not the usual cocky grin. Not the one he used to deflect pain or fear. This one was softer. More real.

“Before you say anything,” he began, “this isn’t a trick to get you to patch me up.”

James looked down at the bouquet and held it out to you, this time without a joke. His eyes were more serious, though they still had that spark that always made him look like he was about to say something impulsive.

“I didn’t get burned. Didn’t fall. I just thought I could see you when you weren’t in the middle of chaos.”

You took the flowers, saying nothing at first. You brought them to your nose, partly to hide the smile pulling at your lips.

“You’re not just here for the flowers,” you finally said—not as a question.

James nodded, lowering his gaze for a moment before meeting yours again.

“I’m here because the other day I realized I don’t like watching you walk away without knowing anything about you. Every time I see you, it’s in the middle of chaos. Blood, smoke, and screams. I want to talk to you when I’m not injured, when I’m not covered in ash, when you’re not exhausted and about to collapse. I want... something outside of all that.”

Your chest tightened a little. You didn’t know if it was from the surprise, the genuine tone in his voice, or because, deep down, you’d wanted exactly that more times than you could count.

“And what is it you want, James?” you asked, no sugarcoating.

He took a step toward you, cautiously, like he was afraid you might vanish.

“I want to take you out for a drink. I want to hear about your life without a stethoscope hanging from your neck. I want you to look at me without having to worry about a burn on my arm. I want to know if what I feel isn’t just the result of too much adrenaline.”

You stayed silent, eyes on the bouquet, his hands, his face. How vulnerable he looked. How real it all suddenly was.

Something inside you gave in. You didn’t know if it was the built-up exhaustion, the way he looked at you like you were the center of something that had finally found peace, or if you were just tired of pretending you didn’t feel the same. But you took a step forward.

Just one.

“You’re shaking,” you murmured, noticing how his fingers were toying with the edge of his shirt.

“I’m nervous,” he admitted without hesitation.

That answer disarmed you a little more. Him—the guy who ran into burning buildings without blinking—nervous to stand in front of you.

Finally, he raised a hand toward you, unsure if he should touch you, but unable to help himself. He stepped a little closer.

“Do you want me to take you home?” he asked, his voice soft, almost shy. Not the usual cocky confidence. Just an invitation. Nothing more.

The bouquet in your hands felt like an unspoken promise. A promise of something simple, something outside the chaos, outside the endless routine of hospitals, fires, and injuries. Just two people, a quiet night, and the possibility of something new.

“Yes,” was all you said, without thinking too hard.

He smiled in relief, almost like he hadn’t been sure of your answer. And in that moment, all that was left between the two of you was a quiet, expectant silence.

As you walked to his car, James kept sneaking glances at you, like he was trying to figure out if you really meant what you said, or if it was just the exhaustion clouding your judgment.

You noticed. The way he pretended to look straight ahead, but his eyes drifted back to you every few steps. Like he couldn’t help it. Like he didn’t want to miss another second of you.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you murmured without looking at him—not annoyed, just with that half-smile he seemed to enjoy too much.

“Like what?” he asked in a low voice.

“Like you’re afraid I’ll disappear.”

“It’s just… I’m not sure this isn’t a dream,” he replied without missing a beat.

The honesty caught you off guard. You didn’t know whether to laugh or stop walking and look at him. But you kept walking. Slower. More aware. The shift’s exhaustion still weighed on your bones, but your chest felt light.

When you got to his car, he ran ahead to open the passenger door for you. It wasn’t some over-the-top gesture—it was natural. Not to impress you. Just because he wanted to take care of you.

The silence in the car wasn’t uncomfortable. It was gentle, filled with small gestures. Like when he turned the music down the second the engine started, or when he glanced over to check if you’d fastened your seatbelt before driving off.

“You know what’s funny?” he asked after a few blocks.

“I doubt we share a sense of humor but go ahead.”

“I’ve thought about this. Seeing you without everything that surrounds you in there.”

You looked at him. And for the first time, you saw him without everything that surrounded him too. Without the smoke, without the tension of emergencies. Just a man who’d been too close to the fire, too many times, and still searched for warmth.

“And now that you have... what’s next?”

James smiled without looking, one hand relaxed on the wheel, the other playing with his keys.

“Now, I take you home. Let you rest. I don’t want to steal a second more of what little time you have for yourself.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you did,” you said softly. You didn’t even know why you said it. Maybe it was exhaustion. Or maybe it was the truth slipping out on its own.

He eased the car to a stop in front of your building. He didn’t rush to speak. He turned off the engine. Turned to you.

“Then I’ll stay. In the car, if you want. In silence. Outside. Inside. Wherever you let me be. But only if you let me.”

And there it was again. That part of him he never showed when everything was on fire. The part that looked at you like you were the one thing he couldn’t afford to lose.

You took a breath. Look down at the flowers in your lap. And smiled, lips closed, eyes more tired than ever—but alive. So alive.

“Are you hungry?”

James raised an eyebrow, holding back a smile.

“Starving. But only if you cook.”

“Perfect. Tonight’s menu is cereal and frozen pizza. You get to choose. Just know I’ll be judging you based on what you pick.”

He got out with a soft laugh and rounded the car to open your door. He held out his hand like this was another rescue. But he wasn’t there to pull you out of the fire, this time he was trying to step into something quieter with you. Something that burned slow, but steady.

[the-kr8tor]

Bestiiiiiiiieeee 👀

As a req for IPOB, can you write r and Gwen making some smoothies while Pav is practicing his potions, and Gwen accidentally drinks a potion and becomes a baby? 🤣 the shenanigans of this prompt is killing me

- 😅

AWWWW BABY GWEN!!!!! I LOVE THIS TROPE SO MUCH

Pairing: Vampire! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 2.7k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, set in my IPOB AU, mockumentary AU, hunter! Reader, Clairvoyant! Miles, Werewolf! Gwen, Witch! Pavitr, CW food mentions, talks of having children, Fluff!

Navigation

“Can we add more sugar?” You ask Gwen while the blender whirrs loudly around the kitchen.

The camera crew are relaxed in front of you, camera perched on a tripod like you're in a cooking show. They munch on biscuits that you've given them while they let the camera do all the work. Meanwhile the other half of the crew are probably getting their work cut out for them while Hobie teaches Miles self defense in the backyard. Or that's what you think they're doing, it's either that or they're wrestling with the giant living snapping plants that you and Pav planted yesterday to quell the mosquito population.

“Are we making a fruit smoothie or candy?” She asks, a pierced brow raised as she glances at Pav beside you.

He chuckles under his breath, hair tied in a rare bun so it doesn't get inside the cauldron that he's mixing. “It's because you've been letting Hobie feed too many times and your blood sugar is in the dumps.” Shaking a bottle of something that's bright blue into the bubbling mixture, he flicks his eyes at a flat faced you.

“Or it's because I have a sweet tooth.” You retort back, nudging his bicep, almost making the bottle fall into the cauldron.

Pav gasps, clutching the shaker against his chest protectively. “Careful! This is rare!”

“What are you even making?” Gwen pauses the blender, opening the top to add more sliced mangoes.

“A moisturizer that makes your wrinkles go away. Felicia was asking for some because apparently I'm the only one who can make it right.” Shrugging, he carefully places the bottle down on the counter before going to the fridge to rummage for something.

“Huh, no wonder why she looks amazing.” You mumble, staring into the bright green cauldron curiously.

“Hobie could use some.” Pavitr jokes, earning a muffled ‘Oi’ from outside. “Sometimes I forget that he has super hearing.” He says as he almost puts his whole body inside the fridge to find something.

“If you're looking for the newt eyes, I placed it in the basement fridge ever since Miles accidentally added it to his sandwich.” Gwen remarks, taking a spoon to taste test the smoothie. Pav groans in annoyance and starts to trek downstairs while the blond makes a face, nose scrunched and eyes shut as she splutters out.

“I think the second batch of mangoes you added were too sour.” You say in between giggles. “Do you need that sugar now?”

“I hate it when you're right.” She huffs, side stepping so you could sprinkle some sugar in it.

Eyes roaming over the counter, you try to find the sugar that you were just using. Before you could give up from all the mess on the counter, you find a sugar bowl near Pav's cauldron and pick it up before scooping a big spoon full of sugar inside the blender.

“Alright, that's enough! You're going to give us diabetes!” Gwen swats your hand away while you chuckle mischievously. She clicks her tongue as she closes the lid and blends the mixture once again.

Pavitr returns to the kitchen, huffing and puffing from the stairs. “We should have one of those seats that go up and down next to the stairs.” Leaning against the counter, he places the jar of newt eyes that look like regular peppers. If black peppers have irises. “Wait, where's my pixie dust?”

“Right, I think it's done.” Smiling, Gwen pops the blender open and pours herself a drink. “This better not be too sweet.”

“Calm down, you won't turn into a mothman from sugar.” You fold your arms on your front, sugar bowl still in hand while Pavitr continues to look for something. “It happened to my cousin once,” Gwen pauses as she's about to drink. “Don't worry it's not because of the sugar, he ate a moth.”

With a scrunch of her nose, Gwen gulps down her drink, clearly pleased with it as she almost finishes it. “That hits the spot.”

“Don't hog it all!” Putting down the sugar bowl, Pavitr gasps out.

“What were you doing with my pixie dust?”

You and Gwen freeze in place. “Pixie dust?”

A puff of pink smoke envelopes the whole room, making the camera fall from the tripod as you scream Hobie's name.

—

“Fuckin'— let go of Miles, you green wanker!” Hobie yanks Miles out of the jaws of the snapping plant, or tries to at least when it has his arm in its jaws.

“Don't let it eat me! I need my arm!” Miles cries out, voice peaking while the camera pointed at him shakes as the crew tries to capture the scene. “Why don't you help Hobie!” He yells at the lenses, but the producer mumbles about not being involved in the documentary.

“I've got you, Miles! Almost there!” Punching the snout of the plant, it releases Miles’ arm bit by bit with every hit Hobie smacks it with. He could only hope that it doesn't kill the damn thing when it took you a long time to plant it.

“Hurry!” With one last smack, the sentient plant releases Miles’ poor arm. Making the two tumble backwards into the grass. Eyes closed, he waves his arm around in front of the camera. “Do I still have my arm?!”

“Guess your clairvoyance didn't work this time, huh?” Hobie heaves on the grass, casually lying down with his elbow resting as he teases Miles.

“It's not funny!” His voice rises so high that it makes Hobie laugh some more. His sheer voice alone makes the mics peak that has the sound guy grimace in place.

Taking his arm gently, Hobie gives it a once over. “You're fine, it only nicked you.”

Miles whips his eyes open, twisting and turning his arm around to check. The camera zooms in on his so-called injury that only looks like a couple of paper cuts below his elbow. He sighs in relief, body plunging down on the grass as he heaves.

“You're welcome by the way—”

“Hobie!” Your scream is as clear as day in his ears.

Without a second thought, wine red eyes flicking at the camera briefly, he runs inside at supersonic speeds.

“I'll catch up with you…” Miles rests on the grass after his near death experience.

The camera and the documentary crew catches up to Hobie in the knick of time, seeing him stand on the doorway with a bright pink cloud covering the whole kitchen. His face contorts into worry, fists opening and closing against itself.

“Love!” He braves the smoke as it parts for him. The crew stays behind, filming the pink smoke as Hobie disappears into it.

There's nothing but silence for a moment, and the whole crew stands there with bated breath.

With a loud yell of a string of latin, the smoke disperses, revealing the kitchen to the cameras. There's the sound of a baby crying, and your frantic scream that's joined by Pavitr's.

The lenses zeroes in on a bundle in Hobie's arms as he cradles it and tries to bounce it. Then within the pile of fabric, a dog's tail peeks out, then two pairs of fluffy ears. Footsteps slowly close the distance, and they perfectly record the scene just as the blond tuft of hair shows itself from how Hobie gently moves it away from her face.

You could recognize those baby blues anywhere.

“Gwen?!” You and Hobie yell simultaneously. Pavitr faints, almost plunging down harshly if not for you catching him by holding onto his apron.

“What happened?!” Miles runs into the crew, he then pushes them away and as he sees Gwen’s clothes bundled in the vampire's hold, he stops and freezes in place as she babbles in Hobie's arms, tiny feet kicking about and tail swishing around. “Oh fu–” His eyes rolled back, body falling down on the crew.

—

“It's okay, little Gwen.” You dance the baby in your arms, finding the whole thing weird but not unusual in your profession. You'd be lying if you were never turned into a baby after a cousin of yours made you try their ‘hair growth’ potion.

“I turned my friend into a baby.” Pavitr curls into himself, hugging the couch cushion as he hides into the sofa.

“I managed to convince the crew to get out.” Miles wipes the sweat off his brow, grimacing like he's in pain when he sees Gwen crying in your arms. “But we have to keep the cameras rolling in their tripods.” Pointing at one of the cameras in the corner, you eye it as you sigh.

“That's good enough, she didn't like that there was a crowd gathering around her.”

“Bah?” Baby Gwen tilts her head, big blue eyes blinking slowly at you as her fluffy ears flick. You'd be lying if you didn't find that adorable.

“Where's Hobie?” Miles sits down on the couch, patting the guilty Pavitr. “She’s fine, Pav, Y/N said that she'll only be like this for a few days.”

“A few days?!” Pav yells, bringing the pillow against his face as he screams into it.

Gwen giggles at him, pointing at the distraught witch like she's teasing him. “Pah!”

“Yeah, that's Pav! Good job!” You grin at her, and you couldn't help but squish her chubby cheeks with a coo. She beams back toothily, making grabby hands at your face.

“Stop talking to her like that, it's weird.” Miles deflates on the couch, watching as you carry her so naturally in your arms. “Where the hell is Hobie anyway?”

“Like it or not, Miles, she's a baby.” You say in a baby tone while cooing at the little werewolf. “And Hobie's buying baby stuff. Isn't he? Yes, Hobs is out shopping for you!” Little Gwen giggles, fluttering her lashes as she babbles back in your arms.

The second you said the words, Hobie appears in the middle of the room, clutching different bags from the supermarket and a few from some baby clothes shop. There's a big box tucked in his arm, from the looks of it he also bought a bassinet. But judging from the glass shards sticking to his hair and leather vest, it's safe to say that no store is open at this hour.

“Hi,” you smile at him and all the things he's holding onto falls on the floor with a loud thump. “Please tell me that you've got baby formula in there.”

“Yeah…I did— I mean I do.” His eyes glow, you've grown accustomed to the way his eyes light up. From happiness to excitement, you know all the different flickering in those red eyes you love. But this one seems… different. “You're a natural, love.” Whispering, his hand gravitates to your waist, holding onto you gently while his other hand holds Gwen's head.

You gaze at Hobie sweetly, “don't look at me like that.”

“Like what?” He chuckles, fangs and all as he feels your warmth ebb through him. Gwen watches the two of you with wide blue eyes as she nibbles on her thumb.

Smiling, you shake your head at him. “Nothing, I need to change her into a onesie or she'll catch a cold.” Hobie reluctantly lets you go, fingers lingering on the small of your back briefly.

“That is so weird.” Miles grimaces, head lolling over the couch.

“Make yourself useful and help me with buildin’ the bassinet.” Hobie yanks him off his feet as Miles stomps his foot. “Love, our children don't listen to us anymore.”

Chuckling, you let Gwen play with your necklace as you grab a bag filled with baby clothes and diapers. “Ground them if they don't help.”

“You're grounded.” Hobie says flatly, dangling Miles by his hand.

Miles groans, body falling limp. “This is so weird!”

“Pav, care to help me and your brother?” Hobie teases again, this time Pav is the one grimacing at him.

—

“Right, Pav found a recipe in the tomes that'll reverse the potion so I've gotten them to make it.” Hobie enters your bedroom, or what used to be your bedroom before you practically moved in his coffin room. The fully built bassinet and the warm bottle of milk almost falls from his hands when he sees you basking in the moonlight by the window as you coo at Gwen. “Fuck.”

“Language, there's innocent ears listening.” You joke as you gently dance Gwen in your arms. She's now dressed in a pink onesie with the words ‘mummy’s favourite’ printed on it that you're sure Gwen would not be laughing at after she turns back into her old self. “I've gotta hand it to you, Hobie, you know how to shop for baby clothes. I saw one in there that said ‘dad’s little rascal,’ I thought I'd save it for later—!” His lips meet yours suddenly, hand placed on the small of your back as you sigh into the kiss.

Hobie leans away, pecking you once, twice, before finally moving away. Gwen blows raspberries at the two of you, giggling and kicking about.

“What was that for?” Chuckling, you can't cup his face like always with your hands full so you just lean against him, face tucked on the crook of his neck.

Embracing you, arm looped over your back and the other cradling baby Gwen, he kisses your temple. “Nothin’, love.”

“The sight of me holding onto a baby unlocked something in you, huh?” As always, it didn't take you long to read the thousand year old vampire.

He scoffs, brows knitted as he rolls his eyes. “Children are a menace.”

“Yeah, but it made you think, right?” Your voice lowers as you briefly brush your lips on his neck. When Hobie doesn't answer, his crimson eyes gazing into your own with longing, you gently place Gwen in his arms. “Support her neck, I know that's against your nature but you don't want to break that.”

“Yeah, I know that, love.” Chuckling, he looks at Gwen as she grabs his finger and begins to bite at it with her own fangs. “Ow.” His smile only grows bigger instead of annoyance.

“I think she's hungry. Let me grab her bottle.” You take the bottle he made that he placed on the nightstand. You find that it's still warm, and you can't help that your heart soars at the thought of Hobie warming up the milk like it's natural instinct to him. “Alright, let go of the vampire's finger, I've got your baba.”

Cooing, you gently take Hobie's finger away from her mouth and replace it with the baby bottle. Miles is right, this is weird, especially when her familiar blue eyes gaze at you so sweetly that you've forgotten that she's the same Gwen, who chastises you for leaving a dirty glass on the sink.

Hobie watches you through pensive yet soft eyes. “How are you so good at this?” He asks as you hold up the bottle for her.

“I used to babysit my little cousins.” You reply, your other hand reaching for his forehead to rub the worry lines away. “You okay? I know that this is my fuck up—”

“It is, but it's not that, lovie.” Hobie grasps your hand, bringing it slowly to hold his cheek instead as he leans against your hold. “I jus' can't help thinkin’... What if.”

Your heart squeezes, nodding at what he meant. “Yeah, what if.” Looking at Gwen, her eyes start to close, slowly dozing in Hobie's arm. “They'll be cute, probably just as cute as her.”

Sniffing, Hobie swallows thickly. His mind draws up a vision of you running after a little version of him, or a little you. But then reality strikes that scene, a dhampir would be teasing fate, a toss of a coin. And sometimes it doesn't end like in the romance stories you read inside the coffin before bed.

“Maybe even cuter than Gwen.” He says, tone small as he takes your hand away from his cheek to hold your hand instead. “Any names you have in mind?”

“Something fun like Billie, or a classic like Ramona.” Whispering it like a secret, you clear your throat when a sob threatens to escape. “Anyway, it's fun to imagine.”

Nodding, Hobie leads you towards the bed so you could sit down. “Yeah, it's fun.”

As you stare at the sleeping baby Gwen bathed in moonlight, you lean against him, hand cupping the back of her head, thumb gently caressing her cheek. “It's all just some fun.”

There's happy shrieking downstairs, and you both know that Miles and Pavitr have made the counter potion.

[wizzdot]

Sunshine

Chapter 3

Description: where the hell did this motivation come from?! Anyway. Ray gets some background added here, also soon to be reunited with some old friends, if you can call them that, of hers. Hint: they’re Mexican…

You shouldn’t have hesitated. Should have marched straight on out while you still had the chance. But he had called you by your name. It still catches you off guard. You much prefer to be detached from people, you like the unfamiliarity of Ray, or better yet, sergeant, soldier, or whatever the hell your higher ups wanted to call you.

“Please, y/n, wait..” he tries again. You close your eyes at the sound of your name, once again, caught off guard. “Let me explain.. please..”

“Don’t start begging, Garrick” you murmur, not turning around, scared that if you make eye contact with him, he might sway you.

“Give us a chance. C’mon. For old time’s sake, huh? We were always a good team, me and you.. once you get to know the oth”—

“Stop right there. Don’t go any further” you warn, still not facing him, but holding up a hand in a signal to halt his rambling.

“You left, moved on to bigger and better things.. I get that, Gaz, I do, and well done for that.. but I was left in the dirt, remember? Called in to help provide extra support for your op. My entire unit was wiped from existence within hours. And you expect me to come skipping back into the fray, with a team of strangers, might I add, who already have prior reason not to trust me, and expect me to put my neck on the chopping board..?”

Kyle looks taken aback by your outburst, gulping slightly. “No.. no, it’s not like that.. and, I’m not a stranger, am I?” he says with a hopeful smile.

“Aren’t you?” you reply, with a bite. Kyle inhales sharply, clearly upset by your mean words.

“..you’ve changed” he speaks now, quietly. Your stomach drops, it sounded more like he was accusing you.. it didn’t feel good. It felt like you were letting him, hell - everyone, down.

Really? Hadn’t noticed your brain supplies, but doesn’t verbalise. You just scoff at his statement instead, trying not to let it eat you alive.

“When we first met, when we were sixteen, seventeen?.. you were happier.. nicer” yeah, that’s a low blow, Garrick... “you were proud to be serving. I remember thinking ‘wow she’s one of the good ones’.. y’know? Not one of the pricks that join as a dick measuring contest, but someone who wanted to make a different. Try to save lives, and do the right thing…”

You listen to Kyle, his words actually starting to make inroads into breaking down the wall you’d built. No, don’t let him in!!

“I was ignorant” you mutter.

“No, you weren’t”

“I was stupid” you rebut, quickly.

“Definitely weren’t. You’re were the smartest of all of us. Still are, probably” Kyle argues.

“Fine whatever.. I’m not like that anymore. The me from before.. she’s misshapen and deformed. She’s gone. There’s no coming back from that.”

“Nah, she’s still there somewhere..the fact you’re still standing there, listening to me, tells me otherwise..” damn you, Garrick.

As if on cue, the bitch nurse from the front desk pops her head through the door. “Time’s up” she snips.

“I was just leaving anyway” you snap back, stepping forward to leave the room. You expect Kyle to pipe up from behind you, try to convince you to stay. But he stays silent. That’s weird. Why do I want to look? Why is my head turning without my consent?

You look back. Stupid bitch, why did I look back?! Your eyes are instantly drawn to his. He is looking right back at you, with strength and determination in his eyes. He gives you a single nod. “I’ll see you later, Ray”.

Will you? You sound so sure about that..?

Fucking Kyle Garrick! That boy had managed to wear you down. You’d spent so long building up those walls, convincing yourself that you weren’t a soldier anymore, convincing yourself that you were out. For good. Why then, were your feet matching you straight back towards the Captain’s office?

You barge through, not going to the bother of knocking. The three men, who were clearly in the thick of a heated discussion, go silent, and stare at you. You take three strong steps up to the Captain’s desk, slamming both hands against the wood, loudly.

“You have about two minutes to explain why I’m here, what you want from me, and why you’ve kept tabs on me for years” you growl at the Captain, who looks completely calm, as is this was normal for him.

“Awkt, see! Telt you the lassie would come around tae the idea!” the Scottish voice laughs, in the silence of the office.

You spin, like a beast possessed, marching toward the mo-hawked man, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, shaking him up slightly.

“And YOU, have about two seconds, to shut the fuck up, or get the fuck out. I don’t know who the fuck you are, but if you keep talking to me, or about me, you’ll find out what my fuckin’ fist feels like..” his mouth snaps shut, and he nods, in an almost childlike way.

The masked Lieutenant just grumbles a short chuckle, and stays silent.

You return to Price’s desk and raise an eyebrow, checking your watch dramatically (totally ignoring the fact that your wrist was not clad in a watch whatsoever)

“Minute and a half left, captain. Better start taking..” you warn.

“Alright, soldier, listen up. I tried to take both you and Garrick at the same time. Red tape bullshit stopped me from doing that. I went to the higher ups and by the time I was cleared to take you, you’d been absorbed into another unit. We were busy on ops and time ran away from me. Gaz kept on nagging me to get onto Laswell, but all I kept hearing was that you were deployed, over seas, on leave and so on..”

You listen, in silence, hunched over his desk, the anger that had been radiating off of you, slowly, ever so slowly, dissipating.

“Anyway, when your unit crossed paths in Russia, I had planned to bring the transfer up to Laswell upon completion, seeing as you were finally right there, in front of us. I don’t think anyone expected it to end the way it did. We were fed bad intel, the mission was a bust. You know as well as I do, you were all wiped. We only just made it out, Shepherd somehow weaselled his way out as well, not even a scratch on the old bastard” Price scoffs, clearly not a fan of Shepherd.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that it went wrong.. really..” he apologises. I look at my boots, and gulp.

“30 seconds left..” I grit out, trying not to show emotion.

“We circled back, covered the dead zones. You weren’t there. We assumed.. you were killed. Gaz wouldn’t leave it, though. At the very least, that boy wanted to bury a body. But there was nothin’ to be found of you apart from a smashed up pistol, that Garrick insisted was yours. I must admit, I didn’t understand why he was so adamant about you. You were a stranger to the rest of us, after all..”

“To cut a long story short, we’ve needed someone with your skillset for a few years. I would have given you a contract the day of the ceremony, but.. we know what happened. I saw it, that day, our first face to face conversation, that you needed a break. You needed time to cool off. I didn’t know Garrick had a tracker in his wallet. Not until he told me a few months later. I thought you’d reach out. Us soldiers, even when we promise that we’re out for good, we crawl back, hell or high water. When you didn’t surface, after a year, I asked Laswell to check on you.. to make sure you hadn’t…”

“Wishful thinking..” you interrupt, solemnly joking at the fact they’d thought you’d topped yourself.

The captain’s jaw ticks at your dark humour, but he continues anyway. “I have a few pieces of intel that we need to follow. We are headed to Mexico, within the week, could do with a sniper and Spanish speaker.. I want you to be a member of Taskforce 1-4-1. I want you to understand, though, that this team is my family. We would bleed and die for each other. If you join, that extends to you. Understood?”

“………”

[meraki-yao]

RWRB Script: Meraki Thoughts and Notes, ACT I

...Remember when I said if we don't get something new I'll reach the phase where I dissect the movie frame to frame?

Yeah so I did decide to annotate the bloody script I am that obsessed, will put this into either two parts or three parts, this is from the start to Paris

Highlight:

Red: Deleted Scenes

Yellow: Different from the movie

Blue: Fun/Interesting Movement Descriptions

Green: Extra Information of character/set

Right off the bat, we have a deleted scene

I need someone to enlighten me about these markings: what do the numbers and letters mean? I searched online and it said that numbers means a scene, but what counts as one scene? And what is the letter then?

Again, three more deleted scenes, what the fuck. And why is the first one labelled 1? Was the movie originally supposed to start there before they added the receiving line in re-shoots?

Henry was shaking a person's hand when Alex comes up to him in the movie

TRIES TO LICK IT???? ALEX THE FUCK

Also note how the frosting thing is before "tell me something" here but after that line in the movie: In the movie, Henry didn't not see any of the frosting shenanigans since he turned away to greet someone else. The script doesn't state what Henry's doing while Alex fucks up

Two more deleted scenes!!! One of which should be Aneesh's favourite scene to film where Alex asks her how much trouble does she think he's in

Canonical Zahra and Ellen age

Ellen staring at Alex was not in the final cut, we go from the credits directly to Ellen's line. Also the "killing him" is sort of a book reference: P28 Ellen: "all I want is to have the CIA fake your death and ride the dead-kid sympathy into a second term"

TWO MORE DELETED SCENES WHAT THE FUCK

ANOTHER ONE

Ah so that's why Taylor's post of him in "Kensington Gardens" captioned “IT'S ALL LUSHHH”

Huh, he's awed

Nick improvised Henry's "Both" line

Clench teeth not that visible in the actual scene but we get the message

"Juicy photo" what the fuck

"This won't be fun" about that Alex....

Two more, one of which is the Cornetto scene, what's the other one?

Obviously we did not get this line about the outlets in the movie, but also ??? Do American outlets not have lights? Is he talking about this thing? (the red part is a light)

Henry you're enjoying yourself aren't you

ANOTHER ONE

Well this is a mess

"Essentially Spooning" WHAT

I feel like "isn't entirely unsexy" is from the book but I can't remember???

"The most shit-eating of grins"

He didn't wave, he did the V hands. That was probably Taylor lol

Canonical Oscar Age! So both Oscar and Ellen are 55, let's say movie Alex is 25 then Jesus Christ he's right they were babies when they had Alex

ANOTHER ONE I'M SOBBING AT HOW MANY AT THIS POINT

Firstprince Book list!!!

So this is the opposite in the movie: Henry was the one to turn around and face up instead of Alex, Alex was staring at imaginary Henry the whole time until he went to press "hang up" on his phone, on his other side

what the fuck 😭

Canon Percy Age: 24!

He was in fact wearing a white blazer with black swirls (I really liked that outfit).

"Percy is just as impressive as his clothes" HELL YEAH

"coppery-mustard"

"knowing smirk" the fuck

POST WALLFLOWER LMFAO

"dancing his ass off" love your word choice Matthew

"subtly bops to the music" yup, somehow think that applied to Nick at parties too

Aww Alex finds it "ridiculously endearing"

"even sexier midnight kiss" lmfao

"crestfallen" awww nooo Henry bbg :(

"Everyone's hands are on him, wanting a piece of ACD"... huh.

WHAT IS IT NOW

"They look so right together"

"panic growing in his chest, genuine fear crossing his face" HENRY　😭

"utterly gobsmacked" again, interesting choice of words, but accurate

TWO MORE WHAT THE FUCK

Alex was not on the floor, he was stretching against the sofa, I feel like that's a Taylor thing, but also he needs to see the TV on the wall

AGAIN????? MATTHEW!!!!

"Young James Bond" YUP

"entranced by Henry"

THREE???? ARE YOU KIDDING ME????

"trying out the perfect suave and sophisticated pose to greet Henry" ends up just standing straight

Can you fucking imagine the table read and Matthew saying "and THEY GO AT IT BABY"

"raw and aggressive and hot -- like they're trying to eat each other"

Note that the movement description didn't mention lifting Henry on the table or Alex hitching his thigh up, so that was designed on set

THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A CLOSE-UP????

“Gently” are we sure about that

"the bluest balls on the planet" lmfao

WHAT COULD POSSIBLY BE DELETED HERE OH MY GOD

"utterly devasting" yup

Okay there's a lot of differences here: Henry doesn't close the door, Alex grabs Henry's waist not vice verse, Henry kissed down his neck and chest after this dialogue and they tumble over the sofa, but also how to you expect him to kiss Alex's chest while simultaneously unbuttoning his shirt when they're both verticle

"J Crew finest" straight from the book

"The power of his thighs", "his arse bouncing hard in the saddle"

"who has never been so jealous of a saddle" OH MY GOD PFFTTT

I guess 55 is the extended polo scene with Bea and Pez

"attack each other" "pawing"

"Alex can't decide where to put his hands because he wants to put them everywhere at once" Istg this is a book line but I can't find it at the moment, will update when I do

YANKS in all caps

"Their meals are gone" So the photos from Matthew's BTS post where they had their meals was before this scene? But there isn't a deleted scene before or after the Paris cafe scene in the script?

Henry is charmed, huh

"whistles in amazement"

HE WAS SUPPOSED TO WINK?

Alex didn't laugh, we start the hotel scene with his back to the camera

"Henry wraps his arms around him" ... sorta? But in the movie it's Alex's shoulders

"on Henry's chest" okay yeah so this was for short Alex, TZP would have to contort himself to do that

In the movie we only see Henry undressing

(Dammit two more images but I reached the posting limit, hang on)

[drvirgus]

Behind bars

Non Idol! Minji X Convicted! Reader

Description: Coming out of Jail is never easy. Y/n even would say its harder then even getting into Jail. What happens when she lives with a Person that absolutely hates Criminals? What even got her into Jail? and what happens if she starts to like the person that hates her?

Chapter: Camping (2) (half-Written)

Masterlist

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I want to go back."

Minji beside me laughed as she opened the trunk and started taking out the items piece by piece. Hyein and Eunchae kept coming over to pick up the things. I, however, just stood there, arms crossed in front of my chest, casting almost deadly glances at Minji.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? I hate camping," I expressed, watching Minji lift a cooler. She was dressed in just a white Nike T-shirt, revealing her tense muscles. At that sight, I swallowed and immediately looked away from the taller girl.

"Just relax. Enjoy camping, and I'll kill all the animals for you," the younger one said almost sighing, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But why did I find this so attractive?

I took a deep breath and decided to pay attention to the others this time. Hyein and Eunchae seemed to be having fun helping Haerin and Hanni set up the tent. My eyes widened as I noticed the size of the tents. We could all sleep in one...

"Sleepyhead," I heard next to me, and I immediately looked back at Minji. The taller one, wearing a cap, playfully hit mine and laughed. Irritated, I looked at her with narrowed eyes, but the slight smirk on my lips probably gave me away.

Minji smiled as she placed her hand on her hip and repositioned herself while standing. "I used to go camping with my dad a lot," I heard the taller one say, and I immediately looked at her. Her smile on her face, but her features looked sadder. Not like usual...

I didn't like that...

I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned my head away from the younger one. My arms loosened, and my hands dug into the pockets of my sweatpants as I sighed softly. "Well, you can teach me a lot then," I said with a slight smile, causing Minji to look at me. She probably didn't expect me to say that.

"Planning to stay, huh?" she asked, a grin spreading across her face. Irritated, I sighed and waved my hand dismissively. "I can't just take the car and drive back. Besides, I have to look out for everyone here," I added, coming up with another excuse.

I didn't even believe myself, so why should Minji?

The younger one snorted, visibly amused, and started humming. "Exactly," she said sarcastically, then began to giggle. "I'll show you first how to set up a tent," came from the taller woman, and I immediately looked at her. Contrary to my expectations, she didn't look joking at all. She was completely serious.

She is cute...

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Here," I heard it beside me, so I immediately looked up at the respective person. Mini stood there with two steaming hot cup noodles. The steam rose into the air, mingling with the smoke from the campfire. A smile formed on my face as I saw Mini offering me one of the cup noodles. Were her cheeks flushed, or was it just the reflection of the campfire on her skin?

I swallowed as I felt the steam on my skin. I noticed Minji sitting beside me, her legs touching mine. A smile spread across my face. "Thank you," I whispered, nodding towards the cup noodles. Minji immediately chuckled, "That's for the noodles you made for me," she replied, smiling at me.

I bit my lip as I felt the younger one placing a blanket over our legs. My heartbeat quickened as I noticed her teeth, especially the prominent canine. Her smile was so sweet...

"That feels like ages ago," I mumbled, feeling awkward as the blush on my cheeks became apparent. I took a deep breath as I finally dared to look at the younger one again. She seemed to anticipate my gaze, "Still, I really wanted to pay you back," the taller one responded, a laugh escaping her throat.

I snorted as I shook my head and began to eat, accidentally burning my mouth on the sauce. I flinched, and almost instantly, Minji handed me a cup of water. Gratefully, I bowed slightly as I took the cup. "Thank you."

"Hey! Why do you guys have cup noodles?" I heard Wony protest indignantly as she looked from the sweets to me and Minji. Her mouth slightly agape, she stood up with a wide grin on her face, approaching us.

Almost immediately, my forehead wrinkled, and my eyes narrowed as I held the noodles even closer. Minji laughed at my reaction. "Let me try, babe," Wony chimed in as she sat right next to me, her legs close to mine. She lifted the blanket and slipped underneath, grinning.

"No. Leave me alone," I replied instantly, causing Wony to look at me with puppy eyes. She pouted, jutting out her lower lip and started sulking. "Please?" she asked, blinking extra sweetly.

"No. Minji made this for me, not for you," I responded bluntly, shocking the two younger ones next to me. Minji's grin only widened. "Exactly. I made it for Y/n," she added, leaning closer to me.

My body automatically tensed, and my head lowered. I could feel my heart racing, and my hands clenched even more.

"Wonyoung," Haerin called, and Wonyoung's head snapped toward the cat-like woman. "Yes?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. Her hand rested on my knee, seemingly bothering Minji.

Minji lifted her hand from my knee and just adjusted the blanket without saying a word. My head was probably already bright red, or was it just the heat from the campfire?

"Come here. I'll make cup noodles," Haerin called, and I noticed everyone else, except Minji and me, moving towards Haerin. Smirking, I looked at the younger one next to me. "If you don't like being touched, just say so," she said in English, her lips close to my ear.

God...

She really drives me crazy...

„Oh right“, Minji said a smile grazing her lips as her hand landed on my thigh. Her eyes shining as she looked at me. The only thing I could feel was my heartbeat thumping loudly in my chest. The heat rising on my cheeks as my mouth opened slightly.

Her thumb caressing my leg. Her eyes staring into my eyes „happy birthday, y/n“

[dervampireprince]

Hello! You have great audios and I am sad to tell you that they are being uploaded to Spotify by people who credit you but may not have gotten permission/notified you.

No reply necessary. I just saw several of your works posted by people who aren't you and want to tell you so you're aware it's happening.

(Genuine tone) (I've had my own work stolen before and know it sucks but that I would want to know it's happening so I reached out to you)

oh so this is still happening huh? i was brought to my attention last year that it was happening to multiple asmr/vas on youtube. i filed copyright claims and spotify took them down.

honestly like it is not okay to reupload stuff. why do you need it on spotify that badly? it's on soundgasm where you can listen to it for free without your phone screen on if youtube bothers you. if you want it on spotify for offline listening then just sub to my patreon for one month at the $5 tier to get hd downloads of all my public audios (or you know maybe theres ways to get mp3s downloaded from social medias im not gonna know like what am i gonna do id rather you do that than reupload my work).

and to put the nsfw audios on spotify? pretty sure spotify wouldn't allow nsfw content so that's probably breaking tos. and even if i wanted too upload to spotify (which i don't, i looked into it and i am not interested in paying a distributor to spread content of mine that is already elsewhere and signing any rights away to my content. ) even if i uploaded it as a podcast i don't think i can upload any of the fandom audios onto spotify because of copyright and trademark laws.

it's disgusting. people should know better. and i see so many of these podcasts reuploding stolen, often uncredited, voice acting and then complaining in the description of their podcast that they keep getting their reuploads taken down or their account taken down. yes because what you are doing is wrong. you are taking away views, ad revenue, patreon subs that i could be earning, putting my content on a platform i don't want it on, often not even crediting me.

i made a big post about this stuff when it happend last year, telling people not to put my audios on spotify, another va alerted me about it and we tried to alert as many others as we could but sadly couldn't get the bigger vas, who'd also been stolen from, to notice our posts (cardlin, yuurivoice, etc) and i think if some of the vas with a bigger following noticed and spread the word or made their own posts about it, maybe that would make a difference. maybe not in stopping these people uploading them, but at least stop others from listening to them. idk.

right well starting off the morning with filing more copyright claims instead of recording. yay. /s

[hsr-texts]

find your cinderella

꒰‧₊˚✩彡‧꒱ ┊ ━━━━ chapter one

꒰⸝⸝₊ʚ♡ɞ ┊ streamer!reader x mystery hsr character ꒱

꒰⸝⸝₊ʚ♡ɞ ┊ otome event ꒱

꒰ ☰ WORD COUNT ┊780 ꒱

꒰ ☰ DESCRIPTION ┊ ━━ When you do an unboxing livestream for your subsribers, you find an invite to an exclusive event called the "Find Your Cinderella" masquerade gala where you are guaranteed to find your supposed true love, as a rather enthusiastic manager told you. ꒱

꒰ ☰ NOTES ┊omg sorry for the long wait!! i was taking care of my college admissions, exercising, and taking care of my aunt all at the same time!! ꒱

previously ┊masterlist

You read the livechat so far. It seemed that the majority wanted you to go.

It was understandable why. This all seemed to be so exciting for regular people who don’t get to go to these events. In your career as a streamer, most of your appeal to viewers came from how relatable you were. Of course, there was also your gaming content but most your subscribers seem to just be happy to watch you do fun stuff. And in their eyes, this event would be the most fun thing you’ll ever get to do.

Despite how strange this all seemed, it probably shouldn’t hurt to go, right? Sugo said that something good will come out of it no matter what happens. Plus, if you didn’t go, would you regret it? Would you later lie in bed late at night, thinking of what could’ve been? Would your curiosity ever stop bugging you about it?

Also 500,000 credits sounded real good for just going to a party and tolerating it.

You clasped your hands together. “Alright then! I’ll be attending the Find Your Cinderella Gala and see what it’s about!”

Your chat cheered for the decision.

You then noticed the time. 12 midnight.

“Aw man, sorry guys but it’s getting pretty late so I’ll be logging off now. I’ll see you guys next time!”

With one last farewell wave, you switched off the stream and checked the statistics. Wow, it seemed to be at an all time high. At least Sugo was right about one thing. It’d only be a matter of time until the news of this gala spread like wildfire.

You found a QR code on the back of the ticket so you scanned it with your phone. It led to a website for the FYC Gala.

You clicked the “attending” button, leaning back on your seat. Seeing the dress code, you checked the package once again and saw that the outfit came with shoes, accessories, and a mask already. Huh, they really prepared everything for you. At least you wouldn’t have to spend extra money. Getting that limited edition LumiPro package already put a slight dent in your finances, after all.

It finished loading and you read the words: “Added to the guest list”

A yawn escaped your lips.

You got off the chair and went over your nightly routine before passing out in your bed.

                                                                                                    

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep—

Click.

You pulled your hand away from your alarm and sat up, yawning. Taking a glance at your clock, you saw that it was 9am.

After a round of stretching, you got off your bed and made a beeline for the kitchen.

You decided to eat tocilog for breakfast so you started cooking rice, eggs, and tocino. A pleasant scent wafted through the kitchen as the meal was being cooked. You let out a delighted sigh, enjoying the smell of a good meal in the morning.

After the meal was finished cooking, you sat down at your dining table to eat it. You made a pleased noise as you ate, satisfied with how the meal came out.

Ding!

You checked your phone and saw that you got a message from your editor, Cori.

Huh? Your eyebrows furrowed so you sent a quick reply and did as asked, looking at online news.

“Streamer’s Unboxing Stream Gets Hijacked By LumiPro Event Organiser in Publicity Stunt”

You checked LumiTube and clips of your stream have been uploaded on there, rapidly gaining over a million views within 12 hours. Damn.

Taking a sip of your water, you leaned back with a contemplative expression on your face. What should you stream today?

With your current status as a streamer that recently became viral, you could take advantage of that and do a stream where you prepare for the FYC Gala by going to a salon and letting viewers watch you get your nails and hair done, then maybe also booking a makeup artist for before the gala, if needed.

But since there was still about two weeks until the gala, you figured there was no rush.

Besides that, you could do a gaming stream since you still need to complete Freya’s Gate 5.

As if a light bulb flickered above your head, your eyes lit up and you took your phone out, logging onto Trotter.

Tap. Tap. Taptaptap.

A series of typing noises came from your phone and you pressed post.

This way, you can let your followers choose what you'll be doing today without having to do the heavy work of making a decision, truly a predicament for someone as indecisive as yourself.

And now you just wait for the results.

[woosh-floosh]

do you have any raw .drw files? how does its file size compare to a vector image / raster image of the same size / similar content? like ik vector files can be very small compared to a jpeg... storing timing info sounds simple to implement, but i wonder if it bloats up .drw file sizes?

Oooh, good question, and my answer uhh... got a little out of hand..

Here's the files in the folder for one of my drawings on the windows beta:

So we have the .drw file, the .sim file, a .csv file (this stores text data for my added title and description), and a .png and .sim for the thumbnail.

The .sim file is new to me, but looking at other files I believe the .sim files holds the individual layer data. Maybe the .sim stores the actual image data for display during drawing?

For example, heres the files for my haunter painting:

And here are the layers for the drawing in game (software?):

The sizes match up pretty well with the actual data on each layer!

(I should mention here that looking at file types and figuring out how they work is completely new to me so I could be getting some things wrong. I'm debating if I should reach out to the dev directly to check my work before starting this essay proper... but it's also been fun for me and my brain to try and figure this stuff out on my own)

Actually.. the sim files made me curious... if the main data is in the .drw file, what would happen if I delete the .sim files? Would the file still work?

First off, the thumbnail does not load, but the file still opens fine and the replay function still works.

And we still got all the layers no problem.

Hmm, if I save changes to the images, will it create .sim files?

It did! Huh!

Then uhh.. I don't really know what the .sim files do. If has something to do with display in game which is why the thumbnail didn't display. But I don't know where the layer files would be displaying if it's all based on the .drw. Maybe it's for file conversion? For uploading to the gallery? I don't know...

Anyways... back to the topic at hand, files sizes! The windows beta lets you export files as layered .psd files, .png files, and partial replay in uncompressed and compressed .avi!

So a quick reminder, here are the file sizes of the original image set up for Colors Live:

The .drw is pretty small!!

And here are my exports!:

The .drw is MINUSCULE compared to the .psd. And the .sim size falls between the two sizes of .png. Hmm, still don't know what's going on with that. Also for fun we can look at the size of an uncompressed two minute long .avi looks like. 4 million kilobytes, yay ^_^

Vector wise.. I'm actually not super familiar with vector programs (should probably brush up on them for this essay, huh?) so I'm not sure what exactly is comparable... I've had to use Illustrator this semester but I feel like Colors and Illustrator are approaching vector graphics in a very different way. Illustrator is saving data for vector objects, but Colors is saving data for brush strokes!

Well.. anyway we can open up one of my projects:

And we can stretch that layers panel all the way out so you can see all my layers and paths and objects:

And let's check the file size...

Yep! Pretty small!

For fun we can also convert that .psd I made into a .ai..

Yep! It's smaller!

Regarding file bloat... I think the devs did a fantastic job creating such a small file size and it's perfect for drawing on game consoles that usually have very limited space! However, my experience with Colors! 3D as a kid did have issues with file sizes.. Colors! was the biggest app on my 3DS and I constantly had to juggle uninstalling games and uploading and deleting paintings so I would have more room for new paintings. I did have quite a number of painting files... in various states of progress (as is typical) but storage space was a real issue for me. Now, were my SD cards only 2 or 4 gb big? Yes. Did I understand at the time that those were quite small for SD cards, even at the time? No. Does my experience mean anything then? I don't know.

Colors! 3D also had an issue were particularly lengthy paintings (were talking hitting the ~4 hour mark) would stop saving replay data. The replay would only play up until a certain point. I'm not sure why that is, based on what we know about .drw files I don't think it can be a limitation with the file type? That's kinda all it does? Maybe it's a limitation with the size of the 3DS memory that couldn't play the replays that long? Hitting that ~4 hour mark would also limit the amount of undos you were able to do so it could easily have to do with memory.

(Bit off tangent but undos take soooo long in Colors. And the more undos you do the longer they take! Colors didn't official start limiting the players undos until that ~4 hour mark but they were already limited by your patience)

Anyways, I will leave you with this, a link to the documentation of the .drw file format. It's only two and half pages long which I think is pretty short? Maybe you can find more info in there that what I can parse...

[paradoxcase]

Chapter 29 of Harrow the Ninth

Not quite understanding this - does she mean "when I ask you for a favor to repay me for helping you remove Gideon", implying that building her a new arm did not count as that favor?

I wonder if Mercy is able to see whatever she did with her anatomy powers

I love how this book 100% has the classic only-one-bed plot point in it, with the added element of the room being full of pictures of attractive naked people, and also coming after the sex-scene-but-it's-about-arm-amputation scene, but the two characters are Harrow and Ianthe and not Harrow and Gideon. I am legit not sure if I am intended to be shipping this or not

I can see how "get in before anyone else can" applies, but I don't think Harrow did a lot of bridge-burning back in Canaan House? Except where Cytherea was concerned I guess, but arguably she didn't burn that bridge fast enough, or thoroughly enough. But I guess this means that Ianthe has some plans that she wants to use Harrow for, I guess probably the stuff she was promising Harrow in the prologue

Everyone already told me this ahead of time, but I'm glad it's actually established in the book at this point and isn't just something I should have been able to pick up on my own before now

Right, so, this was basically what I was thinking back in the arm scene, the only issue Harrow has is John, but I guess rather than convince John to let her get away with it, they decided to do this instead. At this point when I was reading, I thought that I bet Harrow was going to hate whatever plan Ianthe and Augustine came up with, and I have read Chapter 30 at this point, and so I can say that I was correct about that

If they could get away with just three Lyctors to take down Number Seven, they already had three Lyctors before the Lyctor trial started. I thought the whole issue was that three wasn't enough?

Also, now that I think about it, I think this second assassination attempt has to fail. In the prologue, Harrow said that "five sets of eyes" closed before the fight with Number Seven, and John doesn't fight the Resurrection Beasts himself, so that has to be the five Lyctors, so that means Gideon the First is still around at that point

I can see why Corona would have wanted to be with Ianthe at all times, since Ianthe was the one making it seem like she was actually a necromancer and things might have been bad for her if people found out she wasn't. On the other hand, I do pity her for having to be with Ianthe at all times

I initially took this as her being legitimately touch-averse, but based on longing flinch I guess this was meant to be read a different way

I think Ianthe is lying too, possibly she would like to have done whatever Harrow did, but didn't want to wind up with Harrow's limitations

Unfortunate callback. Did Magus and Abigail's anniversary make it into Harrow's remembered chronology? We didn't get a scene about it, but maybe it was just more or less like it was in reality for her, except without anyone dying. I guess Protesilaus was probably more talkative, since he wasn't dead

I read this and was like, yeah, you're going to call this trope out, and then you're just going to fucking do it anyway, right? But then the book proceeded to not just do it anyway, aside from one comment by Augustine that's likely not what he really thought anyway. Credit where credit is due

Huh, Naberius had time to learn to be a great duelist, and also had time to become great at embroidery? Those are both very time-consuming things

This is just such a funny image, of Harrow wearing some kind of see-through black "dress" that is from the description more like a toga, with the also see-through white robe over it, and with a giant sword strapped to her back. Presumably she also isn't any less gremlin-like in this scene

I love all the different ways these books come up with to say that Ianthe has no coloration

Ha! Only caught that on the second read-through

Ok, so Mercy has some secret, and Augustine thinks that John should know about it, but she doesn't want that

The best I can figure out about this is that Apate is a Greek goddess who is the personification of deceit, but Dios is Latin and her Latin name is Fraus, and also Apate isn't capitalized here. The only Romance word I can find that's similar is "apatir", but Wiktionary only lists that for Middle French (and the meaning doesn't seem apt). Initially, I thought "minor" was being used to mean "younger", as in, addressing Mercy as his younger sister, but I see from further context that this was just meant to be the regular English word "minor"

[dragonwitch-art]

Plastober 2021, Day 6 - Mask

[apocalypticgargoyle]

Gene... My baby mama... I need... More alt!dream... Whatever you got fr. I just need more I'm.. I love him (probs not as much as you) but I love him

You're in luck bc I'm running on rip fuel for him. [ALSO I WROTE THIS BEFORE EVERYONE DID THE TECHWEAR STUFF FOR HIM I'M SORRY. I'LL GET IT IN NEXT TIME. I PINKY SWEAR.]

𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐃. ♘ 𝐚𝐥𝐭!𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 (𝟏𝟖+)

pairing: alt!Dreamwastaken x fm!reader

warnings: smut (18+), language, semi-public sex, light mentions of needles, domination

previous part ♘ fanart that i can't stop crying over

recommended listening: Hi Frequency by Vague002

The bus swayed slightly, your grip on the cool bar tightening to keep you from knocking into Clay as it turned. The dark city outside the windows bustled with sparkling lights, catching your eye every few seconds. As more people filed into the cramped space, Clay grabbed your hand, looping your arms around his waist and smugly grinning as you fought not to blush. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Will this be your first time in a parlor?” He asked, voice low and raspy as he whispered to you, not wanting to disturb the other members of society who just wanted to get home after a long day of work.

You nodded your head, making him chuckle. You knew it would be a different experience, mainly because it was taking place during the tattoo shops “after hours,” which Clay had only briefly explained the benefits of attending. “What are you getting done again?” You asked, moving so your hands were holding onto his arm instead, fingers brushing against the exposed skin peeking from beneath the cut-up shirt under his dark jacket.

He shrugged. “I couldn’t decide. Why don’t you pick?” He joshed, smirking at the way your eyebrows raised.

“I don’t want to be responsible for a mark on you,” you murmured, making him snort.

He hooked his fingers into the neckline of his shirt, stretching it down enough to reveal the litter of hickeys peppering his skin that you had left the night before. Your eyes widened as you swatted away his hand, looking around carefully in hopes that no one had seen them. He looped an arm around your shoulders, loving the fact that you were so worried about the crowd when all he wanted to do was fluster you.

He pressed his lips to your cheek, the warmth of his body encompassing you. “I love it when you get all blushy,” he teased. “Seriously though, you should pick. I won’t look at it if I don’t like it,” he snarked.

You groaned lightly. “Clay, come on.” He brushed his lips against yours.

“I trust you, sweetheart,” he cooed almost mockingly, his nose moving to press into your hair.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying your best to remember what was already on his body. You thought about the impending reality that whenever he saw the new tattoo, his mind would linger on you, and for some reason, heat traveled to your ears at that thought. “Um… what about a bird?” You asked, voice uneasy as if on eggshells.

His face twisted into a pleased smile. “A bird?” He repeated. You shrugged beneath his arm, making him chuckle. “I like that. George likes doing bird tattoos too, so you might just make his night,” he added, his praise and approval making your stomach fill with confidence. He pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your shoulder. Your mind began to forget what the two of you probably looked like to the other people as his scent invaded your senses. “Will you hold my hand while I’m in the chair?” He joked.

You scoffed. “Are you gonna cry?” You teased, making him chuckle.

“No, I’m just clingy,” he answered without skipping a beat. Your grin was hidden in the soft corduroy of his jacket.

The tattoo parlor was nothing like you had expected. The door was locked behind you after a bouncer let the two of you in, the man leading you two up a staircase and into a dimly lit room. The sound of heavy metal music and the buzz of tattoo guns swirled together, echoing off the dark brick walls. You slipped your hand into Clay’s as he talked to the receptionist, your eyes attempting to focus on one detail instead of letting the atmosphere overwhelm you.

The thick layer of smoke above your heads made you scoff, realizing it was coming from the opposite corner of the shop, a hookah lamp sitting on a coffee table like an outstretched octopus. The people around it seemed to be discussing something rather intense, their haircuts sharp and defining almost as if they stepped out of some kind of alternative fashion magazine. There were three tattoo artists, each with a white lamp focusing on their work as they carried on to the beat of the music.

Clay’s description of the place flashed into your mind, making you realize just how off the cards the parlor actually was. Clay took a toothpick from the receptionist’s desk, taking it between his white teeth before being waved down by a shorter man with dark hair across the floor. You followed closely behind him as Clay greeted the man; you quickly realizing that this was the famous George.

As Clay shrugged out of his jacket, George pulled out a binder, standing beside you as he flipped to a page with scattered drawings of different flight poses of birds. Your eyes drifted away from the page as Clay’s arms came into view. His old t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off was doing wonders for his biceps. Before you knew it, the two of you agreed on a mix of a few designs resembling a crow and Clay was laying on his back with his hand tucked behind his head. The spot he was filling was in the dead center of the flesh of his upper arm; a spot that George had grumbled about being awkward to reach, especially on someone as large as Clay.

You watched closely with curious eyes as George began to tattoo the design on Clay’s arm. Clay’s other hand was wrapped around the back of your elbow as you leaned on the chair at Clay’s side. His finger pads drew circles into your skin as you asked George about how he got into tattooing, making small talk here and there.

You liked George, mainly because he was quiet until he conjured up some kind of relentless backhanded comment. His tattoos revolved around a giant tree stretching from his back and down his arms. You wondered how long he had to sit for it and what the healing process was like. As he worked, his teeth played at his snake bite piercings, his dark eyes focused intently on the work in front of him.

Clay switched his toothpick to the other side of his mouth, his hand tightening around your arm with a small groan as George reached a sensitive spot. “Don’t be such a pussy,” he grumbled, continuing his work. He stopped, cleaning off some of the sprayed ink and filling a new cap with grey. “You have any work, pretty girl?” He asked you, voice low and charming.

You shook your head, earning a small tsk from him. “This is the closest she’s been to a tattoo gun,” Clay prided, making George sarcastically raise his eyes.

“A total virgin, huh?” He joked, winking at you. “Dream’s not corrupting you, is he?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek trying not to blush. “I’m trying,” Clay leered, smirking at you with his smug ego hinting at his lips.

George bit back a laugh. “Don’t get horny in my chair,” he muttered, eyes trained on the lines he was scaring into Clay. “Speaking of, I heard you got busted up by Punz, and by the looks of it… seems right,” he commented, gesturing to Clay’s eye that seemed to have started fading finally.

Clay let out a dry laugh. “His ribs are still healing,” you added, making George smirk with a shake of his head.

“You know what all that’s about right?” George asked you, taking his foot off the pedal to grab more paper towels from his desk. You looked up at Clay whose jaw tense as he chewed on the toothpick. After you shook your head, George continued. “Punz’s sister is stupidly in love with Dream,” he plopped back in his seat, swiveling his chair, and drawing a hand through his locks, revealing the bleached undersection. You had the fleeting mental image of him tying his hair back to reveal it.

He pulled on a new glove. “Madly in love, huh?” You pried, twisting your chair closer to Clay’s shoulder. Clay rolled his eyes at the fact as if he had been bugged about it for years. “You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend, Clay,” you teased, and he looked up at you with a tired expression, making you bite back a giggle.

After George finished, you followed Clay through the door, breathing in the fresh air; or as fresh as it could be in the midst of the city’s industrial square. Clay’s fingers knitted together with yours as he led you down an alleyway, flicking aside the toothpick. You chewed on your lip in anticipation before he pinned you against one of the walls. His devious grin sent shivers down your spine as you looked up at him.

You swallowed. “Shouldn’t you take it easy? Let your arm heal a bit?” You asked, voice coming out in a soft whisper as his lips pressed against your neck. “Won’t it hurt a bit with your ribs, too?” Your heart hammered in your chest at the fact that someone could turn the corner and catch the two of you.

He chuckled against your skin, slipping his hands beneath your skirt to grip your ass. “I like the pain,” he mused, tongue grazing against your skin as he pulled your hips against his. He kissed you hungrily as if not being able to press his body against yours for that hour was too much for him. His hand dropped to wrap around the back of your knee, moving his own leg to prop your thigh up against his hip as your hands dug into his hair.

The friction from his jeans made you moan into his mouth as his hand moved beneath your shirt, fingers fitting beneath your bra to palm your breast. He mumbled praises against your lips at how good you made him feel and how beautiful you were.

He turned you, your hands planting against the coarse brick as he ground his hips against you. You bit your lip, trying not to be loud enough to draw attention to the two of you, which seemed to be the last thing on Clay’s mind as you heard him unbuckle his belt behind you. You could practically picture his cocky grin, controlling eyes set as his hand gripped onto your hips, shoving your underwear to the side. “You were so much fun to show off tonight,” he chided darkly, lips brushing against your shoulder. “Such a good girl.”

As he pushed into you, one of his hands moved to knot into your hair. He moaned at the feeling of you clenching around him, tugging on your hair as he pulled your hips back against his. A low grunt tumbled from his lips as he set his rhythm, basking in the fact that you were secretly ready for him to ruin you as soon as you stepped into the parlor.

His fingers moved to wrap around your neck, the thought of his tattooed hand tightening around your pristine skin sent shivers through your body and heat flushing your cheeks, the tension in your body tightening. As he pressed you closer against the wall, you thought about the power he had over you; his height and build would make it easy for him to break you if he wanted, yet even as he pounded into you like he wanted you to forget your own name, the restraint he showed was enough to send you over the edge if you let yourself divulge in the thought.

Clay pulled out of you, only to turn you, your shoulders hitting the wall again with a soft thump as he hoisted you up ever so slightly, thrusting up into you as his hand dig into your thigh, the other resting against the brick beside your head. Your arms looped beneath his jacket, raking down his skin as you held onto him.

He groaned as your thighs tightened around him, making his hips stutter as if he were trying not to let himself finish too early. He dug is face into the crook of your neck, burying his teeth in your neck to stifle his grunts of your name. Your head tilted back against the brick, hand moving to tighten around the wrist that was beside your head for some kind of anchor.

His hand wrapped around your waist, driving himself deeper into you, brushing the part of you that needed him the most. You moaned, carding your fingers into his hair as he pressed his lips to yours roughly, wanting to taste your pleasure as it washed over you from his movements.

You tugged on his hair, making his cock throb inside of you, him finishing inside you with a low groan, his hips snapping against yours to stimulate a reaction from you. The feeling of his sloppy pleasure as his movements lost their rhythm sent your hips grinding against his, his teeth marking your shoulders as a reminder of his work on you.

Your toes curled, finally reaching your orgasm as he murmured dirty expressions of him ruining your pretty clothes against the wall. As he pulled out of you, your knees felt weak, threatening to buckle beneath you. You tried not to give off how much he had trashed you, but the warmth snaking down your thighs and your bliss-ridden mind proved otherwise.

Long story short, the bus ride home was rather interesting.

Dream Taglist: (follow this link to be added :))

@karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @more-like-reyna @honk-izzie-was-taken @marrymetheonott @froggyy06 @ghoulandghost @savingpluto @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake @unstableye @tinyegg @behzzyboo @darphobic @twist3dtinkerbell @sparkletash @lindsayhunz @shroomieissmall @mintmochiii @clubfairy @aroyaldarknessblr @camerondiaz48104 @madsbbg @victory-is-here @rat-poisin

[olderthannetfic]

I've always had an appreciation for ao3, especially after coming from ffnet and lj, but after having to work my way through lofter (the main Chinese fic site) I'm ready to just cry actual tears to everyone involved in making ao3 because just wow was it an experience.

I ended up at lofter because I got really into a Chinese novel/donghua that wasn't super popular on English speaking spaces, but was huge in China so I got desperate for content to wander into unfamiliar sites. Good news was that, I did find content! It's been around 5 months and I'm still a long way from running out of content. Bad news is, everything else.

Starting with, lofter has around the same design as tumblr so you can guess how that's gonna work as a fiction posting site. Summaries are not a thing so if you want to try a fic, you're gonna come in with at most 1 general category in the description (canon, ABO, mecha, xianxia, time travel, sentinel/guide) and then the main ship and maybe a secondary ship. And that's it.

This also means that you have no idea if the fic is finished or not, and the only way to check is to go to the authors profile and then go to archives and scroll through all their posts to try and find if the last available post with the fic title was the ending or epilogue. Sometimes authors will tag the title so you can just go that tag and see all the posts but that's not super common, usually the only tag in each chapter is the ship one. This has resulted in some moments when I'm having the time of my life and them I click on next post and it's a different fic, and it hits me...it's unfinished.

And now onto the biggest issue, censorship. As you probably expect, there is censorship in the lofter app. The app automatically detects forbidden words, this including sex related terms so no sex scenes allowed, and also general violence. But there's also words like groan/therapy/resign/satellite/conflict, etc. So authors have to find ways around using any of the terms banned and if they don't or if the list of sensitive words is updated then the post automatically gets deleted.

This has led to some situations where a fic starts in chapter 3 because the other 2 got deleted and as you keep using the app, you kinda get used to that happening. I remember reading a fic that started at chapter 3 and it was fine until chapter 7, because the next chapter available was 10 and after that it went 12, 15,16, 23, 28 and I decided I probably should drop it. Later on when I got used to it, I read about 35 chapters of another fic and there were about 5 missing sporadically, and then I get to a kidnapping at the end of chapter 35 and then the next chapter available is a chapter called epilogue part 2 and the characters are living in America. I have no idea how they got there and I honestly can't really piece it with what I have so I just went "huh" and left it at that.

This situation is more common with 2014-2016 fics. Any more recent and we get into the many ways authors try to get around the restrictions. The simple way is just adding a screenshot of the section with the sensitive word, however if someone reports it then the post still gets take down. Another way is linking to the screenshot on a separate site, but this can also get taken down if reported. The third way is to link to a weibo post that has the images but the weibo post can get deleted if reported. The fourth way is to link to a weibo post and then link in the weibo post another site where it's safe to post sensitive words, but that's usually not preferable since sites where it's safe to do that, are filled with porn advertising gifs. And if you spend too much time in that page, you end up getting redirected to a porn website without even touching any of the ads.

So onto the fifth and most protected way of posting fics. Post the chapter title on lofter and then link to a weibo post that has a link to a third party site that's not filled with porn ads, because it's a pay to see site for creators. I did pay because it's less than a dollar and it goes to the author. After that, you get redirected to the chapter and the chapter is a screenshot of the text that your have to download and flip/invert because it was posted upside down.

….so yeah, that's the lofter and general Chinese fic reading experience.

Also I am by no means looking down or making fun of Chinese fic writers here. I have a large amount of respect for them and the perseverance they have, to find ways to share something they do for free. Just felt like sharing how different things could be for something that most people take for granted. Also this got so long, sorry about that 🚶‍♂️🚶‍♂️

--

Wow! Thank you! I don't speak enough Mandarin to try participating in Chinese spaces, so this is fascinating to hear about in detail.

[streamdotpng]

Yoooo!!! I did the first chapter?scene? Of the streamwenclair coffee shop au, turns out it's actually more of a juice bar, but anyhoo! Starring in todays episode(guess thats what I'll call them) are our very own streamwenclair and Jdwicked!!

Enjoy! Or not, no preasure.

................................................

It was a dark and stormy(actually pretty sunny) night(by that, i mean noon) when our characters meet.

The crunch under his shoes was crisp, and the thirst for boba high when he walks into the shop. It seems to be a minimalist-turned-maximalist themed drink bar, serving any and everything one could think of. The windows don't show a lot of whats happening inside, but you can see everything happening outside.

He walks up to the counter and rings a little bell labled "ring for service, ;)" with an added sticky note that says "NOT THAT KIND OF SERVICE" in sparkle pen bold.

"One sec!" Is heard coming from the back, then a clatter, until finally the barista emerges from the door leading to the kitchen. From a glimps, one can see that the walls are lined with all sorts of kitchen things and bottles. "What shall it be this lovely after noon?"

"Do you serve boba, specifically mango boba? Your signs are a little confusing." The signs in question were the menu and pop up infront of the quaint cafe, the only thing on it is a non-descript drink and the sentence; "we serve everything and anything liquid! (For legal reasons, some exceptions apply)", needless to say, kind of suspicious and confusing

"Oh yeah! Of course! The exceptions are limited to any illegal substances and/or bodily fluids, boba should be easy pz! Want any special shape for the boba, or just regular old?" The young/old barista, who's name tag reads "stream", asks, inputting the order on the vintage looking register.

"Oh, i guess stars would be cool," he answers, pulling out his wallet.

"5.96, and a name for the order?"

"JD, the names JD wicked, cool huh?" Handing over the cash, he looks at the bottles lining the wall upside down with what looks like a spout attached at the lip

"Real cool, you can take a seat or just stand around while you wait, we also have some cool fan made books to read or you can write your own?" Stream says, motioning to the seats first, then an area that looks like a pickup station, and finally a half height long book shelf with vintage computors atop.

"Whoa! Thats so cool!" Amazed he goes and takes a look, reading a couple while he waits. He gets his boba and asks "Do you have anywhere i could put questions about the works?"

"Great idea! I'll make a question board tonight, do you want to write it on this sticky note for now?" Stream hands over a light blue sticky note and pen when JD accepts.

To be continued

..................................................

And that is all for todays episode! Next episodes air date is tbd, but stay tuned!

How yall think? I'm thinking of starting with not many people knowing each other so far. In my head, simp anon is a part timer at the place(still dunno what i should call it, maybe just "wenclair"?), stream is a fulltimer(maybe owner?), jdwicked has just found this place and will probably become a regular(who am i kidding, obvi gonna become a regular), writer anon is already a regular(maybe mobile orders? Maybe in store orders? I dunno yet) and the rest of the anons are tbd because i have a single braincell shared between me and my friend(who is not helping me with this).

If i have made any errors, please point them out. Also, i totally forgot ur pronouns stream 😅

Any questions will be answered by my intern, coffee intern anon(who is just me without the fake mustache)(not really gonna be answered by that pseudo, i just wanted to say i have an intern)

-coffee anon

I'm pretty sure you spelt computer wrong but other than that, looks like a pretty good short scene :)

Can't wait to see where you put the others

[drvirgus]

The life you dreamed of

(Series)

Description: Y/n a K-pop Idol of the 5-Member Group Moonlight. But what happens when she falls in Love? How exactly is her life as an Idol and why did she become one?

Idol! Yeji X Idol! Reader

Warnings: Mention of Bullying and Suicide, curse words

Chapter 20:

Masterlist

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Panicked, I jumped up, my eyes widening as I looked at the opening door. I recognized Yuna and Hanni entering the house. My hand immediately covered the mouth of the slightly older woman beneath me. The two of them paused, somewhat surprised, as they saw me smiling. "Seems like you're slowly starting to dislike working, huh?" Yuna remarked, a bit offended and probably envious.

I glanced briefly at my hand as I felt something damp on it. My breath caught. Yeji looked deep into my eyes, her tongue gliding between my fingers. My heartbeat accelerated at the sight. I bit my lip as I turned my attention back to the two younger girls.

"You-You're... finished early," I stammered. Hanni immediately furrowed her brow. The two younger ones exchanged puzzled looks until Yuna shrugged her shoulders. Sighing, Hanni looked at me, while I tried to get Yeji underneath me to stop. But that was futile. She just continued to tease me.

Yeji was in the process of taking my index finger into her mouth, her warm tongue pressing against it. My hand on her shoulder exerted light pressure, which she seemed to enjoy. Fortunately, the couch's backrest covered her. Yuna and Hanni had no idea.

"We're just here to shower. After that, we have to leave again," Hanni said, somewhat annoyed. The bag on her shoulder fell to the floor. "Haewon and Yunjin are still at the shoot. Both will come home later. So, go ahead and order something; don't wait for us," Yuna added with a small smile.

With a slightly open mouth, I watched as Yuna and Hanni disappeared from the living room. With a jolt, I removed my hand from the older woman's mouth. My face was flushed. "What was that?" I whispered. Yeji chuckled as she bit her lip.

My eyes widened in surprise as I felt Yeji's arms wrap around my hips, making me lie completely on top of her. My pelvis against hers , and my face landed on her chest. "We should go to my room," I whispered. Her hand once again in my hair.

A blissful hum escaped my throat as I felt her nails gently scratch my scalp. My body visibly relaxed. "Why? Don't want anyone to know you have a woman with you?" Yeji teased. Her eyes fixed on me. "How often do you do this?" she asked shortly after.

Now I looked up at the older one. A small laugh escaped me. "Maybe around 2-3 times a week," I replied, which made Yeji laugh. So, I finally stood up from the couch. My hand in hers as I slowly led her to my room. Yeji followed me right away.

"No, but seriously... is this going to remain a secret?" the redhead asked, somewhat more seriously. Her grip around my hand tightened. My hand still on the doorknob as I looked at the older woman. My eyebrows raised as I hesitated slightly. "No. Absolutely not," I answered immediately. Yeji relaxed as she looked into my face. Amused by my reaction, she let out a laugh, even glancing to the side.

My mouth slightly open as I pressed her hand a bit. "Do you... want to keep it a secret?" I asked softly. Yeji was now the one who started to smirk. With a smile on her face, her hand landed on my neck as she slowly shook her head.

"No way. Absolutely not," she replied, visibly amused and attempting to mimic me. My mouth opened, but I couldn't respond as her lips were now on mine. I immediately smiled into the kiss. My hands on her hips, my fingers touching her waistband.

I took a deep breath. "Okay. I can't keep it to myself anymore," I said. Yeji looked at me inquisitively. As sweet as ever, she tilted her head, looking at me. "Is it a thong?" I asked, pointing to her pants. Yeji looked at me confused for a moment, then burst into silent laughter.

Grinning, she grabbed my hand. Slowly, she moved backward, her eyes straight into mine. "Why don't you find out for yourself?" she asked, biting her lip. My breath caught as I watched her sit on my bed.

"My pleasure," I replied, almost breathless, as I sealed our lips together, my hands trembling with excitement.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kim seung-ho: Yo, just gotta set the record straight about Y/n, our classmate and K-pop idol. I've seen some crazy rumors going around, saying Y/n was a bully, but that's just straight-up not true.

I've been in the same class with Y/n, and let me tell you, shes one of the nicest and kindest people around. It's actually Jeong-yang who's been throwing shade and causing trouble.

I've witnessed Y/n being nothing but chill and friendly to everyone. So, let's drop the false accusations and focus on what's real. Y/n's a good person, and it's time to shut down this drama. 💪 #YnIsGoodVibes #ClassmatesUnite

Lee jeong-eun: I would like to clarify that I have known Y/n for years, having been in the same class since our school days. Throughout this time, I can attest to the fact that Y/n has consistently exhibited kindness, compassion, and genuine friendship. It is important to dispel any misconceptions about Y/n being a bully. In reality, the true perpetrator of the bullying that tragically led to Wooyeon's death was Jeong-yang, not Y/n.

Y/n and Wooyeon shared a deep bond that extended back to their kindergarten days. They were best friends who supported and cared for each other. The narrative surrounding Wooyeon's demise should focus on the actions of Jeong-yang, who was responsible for the torment that ultimately led to such a heartbreaking outcome. Let us not allow false accusations to tarnish the memory of Wooyeon and the true nature of Y/n's character

Yeon-hee: I want to express my gratitude for Y/n's unwavering support and kindness. Throughout our academic journey, Y/n has been a reliable friend and a valuable study partner. On numerous occasions, when I struggled with assignments, Y/n willingly offered assistance, patiently guiding me through challenging tasks.

Moreover, Y/n has demonstrated remarkable courage and compassion by intervening when a bully targeted me. In the face of adversity, Y/n stood up for what was right, putting an end to the harassment and creating a safer environment for everyone and me. She saved me... if it wouldnt be for Y/n i would of have ended the same as Wooyeon.

Thank you, Seung-ho, for speaking the truth! Y/n deserves all the love and support. Let's stand united with our classmate and K-pop idol! 🌟💪 #ClassmatesUnite

Y/n has always been so sweet and genuine. It's refreshing to see someone in the spotlight who stays true to themselves. Keep shining, Y/n! 🌈💕 #YnIsReal

Seung-ho, you're delusional if you think Y/n is innocent. Heard she's just good at playing the victim. #NotBuyingIt

This is just a PR stunt to cover up Y/n's bad behavior. People like you are the reason bullies get away with it. #FakeNews

Lee Jeong-eun, thank you for standing up for the truth! Y/n deserves all the love and support. Let's expose Jeong-yang's actions and remember Wooyeon with the respect and honesty they deserve. 💖 #JusticeForWooyeon

Yeon-hee, stop pretending like Y/n is a hero. We know the real story, and it doesn't involve Y/n saving anyone. #YnIsAFake

Thank you, Lee Jeong-eun, for speaking out and setting the record straight! Y/n deserves all the love and support. Let's focus on the truth and remember the beautiful friendship with Wooyeon. ❤️🙏 #StandWithYn

Y/n's character speaks volumes through the testimonies of those who truly know her. Sending love and strength during this challenging time. We believe in Y/n! 💪❤️ #StandWithYn

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

With raised eyebrows, I looked over at the older man. It had been an eternity since I last saw him, but it was nice. After all, he gave me this chance.

Smiling, he wrapped his arm around me. "I'm sorry it took so long. The team worked hard to find any of your classmates," the older man said. He released me shortly after to examine me more closely.

"But you still need to address the situation... there's been no sign of Noh Jeong-Yang. No chats, no statements, or anything of the sort. She vanished without a trace," the older man said, sighing. JYP looked me in the eyes as he took a deep breath. "Write a letter, or do a live broadcast," he added after a short pause.

I looked at the older man, raising my eyebrows slightly. "After two months, just do a live broadcast?" I asked. JYP chuckled, "Yes, do a live. Explain yourself. Still, think about your future," the older man said, laughing slightly. His hand ran over my hair. "I know exactly what you want to say, Y/n," he said.

I looked up at the taller man, a smile appearing on my face. "Thank you... for everything," I said as I bowed before him. JYP looked at me. "Child, I've known you for about 8 years now. I've seen how you handle stress, how hard you fight," the older man said, pride evident on his face. "I trust you. You won't do anything foolish," he added.

That brought a smile to my face as I bowed once again. My legs carried me back to the door, but the voice of the older man stopped me once more. "Oh, Y/n?" he asked, gaining my attention. I turned around to face the older man.

"Don't give up on your dream. Not entirely," he said, causing my forehead to furrow in confusion. However, he simply smiled and gestured for me to leave his office. I nodded and did as he wished.

Not giving up on my dream...

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nervously, I rubbed my hands together several times. It's been two months since the Sunnys have seen my face anywhere. And now I'm supposed to just start a live broadcast? What on earth am I supposed to say?

My eyes were fixed on my phone. I bit my lip as I took another deep breath. Now, I inserted my AirPods into my ears and began to go live on Instagram. I opened my eyes, putting on a smile once again. My gaze on the increasing viewer count.

"Hello. Long time no see, huh?" I asked, with a slight laugh. Nervously, my hand ran through my hair. I swallowed and tightened my ponytail. The smile still on my face as I looked at the comments. "I'm here to finally explain the whole situation and to apologize for keeping silent until now," I sighed. I took a deep breath.

My hands on my thighs as I rubbed them against each other over and over again. I cleared my throat. I licked my somewhat dry lips. My eyes focused on my phone. "First of all, I want to express my gratitude. Thank you to everyone who believed in me and still stood by my side. I appreciate my former classmates who spoke out about the situation. You really helped me, thank you," I said as I bowed slightly.

My hands folded together as I looked back at my phone. I took another deep breath.

"I want to apologize to only one person," I began. My eyes slightly narrowed. "Wooyeon-ah. I need to apologize to you and your mother. For not being able to save you and your mother," I said as I took a deep breath and bowed once again.

The only thing I could do right now was not to mention names. That was the only way I could somehow protect them from the public eye.

"Now, onto the events. I'll try to keep it short because honestly, it hurts me to talk about it," I said now. My fingers interlocked as I placed them on my desk. A slight smile on my face. I licked my lips once again.

"As most of you know, I became a JYPE trainee at the age of 13. Before that, I went to school like any normal girl. Wooyeon and I were best friends. We knew each other since kindergarten and spent every single day together. We actually wanted to join JYPE together," I said as I chuckled a bit. My head lowered a bit. "Until we entered middle school... that's when it started," I added as I looked back into the camera.

I cleared my throat once again. "I don't want to reveal too much. The person, whose name I won't mention here, will face the consequences. I guarantee that," I said with a little smirk. I coughed into my hand. "Anyway... I wasn't strong enough back then to be there for my friend. But today, I am. Of course, I'm still scared, but I won't let fear defeat me anymore. I won't just stand by and watch another person being bullied, beaten, or humiliated. For Wooyeon, for myself, and for everyone I love," I said as I looked seriously into the camera.

Now, I even stopped smiling to emphasize my seriousness. "Never again," I added much softer. Now, I stayed silent to let what I said sink in. My eyes focused on the comments.

Your strength shines through, Y/n. It's never easy to open up about painful experiences, but your courage is making a difference. Sending love and support your way. 🌈💖 #SpeakYourTruth

To those who stood by Y/n, thank you for believing in her from the start. Let's continue to support and uplift each other. 🤝 #BelieveSurvivors #SupportYn

Y/n, I am sorry if I ever doubted your character. Your strength is evident, and I stand with you in solidarity. Let's continue to spread awareness and compassion. 🌸 #ApologiesYn

I owe you an apology, Y/n. Your honesty has opened my eyes, and I'm truly sorry if I ever questioned your character. Your strength is inspiring. 🙏 #Apologies

I've been skeptical, but seeing Y/n speak about it so genuinely is making me reconsider. Let's all learn from this and support each other. 💙

 I've always believed in your innocence, Y/n. Thank you for your courage in addressing this issue. Let's continue to support you on your journey to healing. 💕 #AlwaysBelievedInYou #StayStrong

I'm sorry if I ever questioned your integrity, Y/n. Your bravery is inspiring, and I hope this apology reaches you. 🌈 #ApologizeToYn

It's clear that Y/n was not a bully, and I'm relieved to see her courage in sharing her story. Let's surround her with love and encouragement. 💕 #SupportYn

To everyone who stood by Y/n through thick and thin, thank you. Your unwavering support is making a difference. 🌈

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 2 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Hello besties, laptop is going haywire but for the moment we are back!! 

Read chapter 1 of this fic here!

TW: This chapter contains swearing and descriptions of domestic violence. Please read at your own discretion! 

wordcount: 2.6k

tagging: @the-modernmary @greeneyedblondie44 DM to be added to the tag list :) 

Josh fell asleep on your ride home. You roused him gently as you pulled into your designated parking spot outside of your apartment.

“Josh,” You whispered, pushing at his shoulder gently. “Come on, we’re home. It’s late. Let’s go to bed.” 

He jerked awake. “Fuck. I was sleeping. Jesus.” He barked. 

“Sorry, baby. We’re home.” You repeated.

“Don’t know why you even bother calling it home. You’re never fucking here.” Josh grumbled, clumsily unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out the passenger seat of the car. He went on ahead as you went into your backseat to gather your go-bag and purse. When you got to the front door, he was still fumbling with his house key. 

“Here, let me.” You took the key from his hands gently, unlocking the deadbolt and opening the door. 

Before you could even turn around, you were on the floor in the doorway, your nose slamming into the carpet. You were bleeding onto the floor, your blood soaking the tan fibers. It takes you a moment to realize that he’d pushed you. 

“Josh, what the--” a well placed kick to your hip cut off your protest before you could finish it. You rolled over, looking up to see him panting, with angry eyes. 

“You think you’re real slick huh? Staying late at work with the boss? Jesus, sweetheart. I thought you were better than getting a promotion on your back.”

“We were working, Josh. There’s nothing else going on there.” You argued, scrambling backwards away from him and propping yourself up on your elbows. You know that there should be some sort of instinct kicking in, one that allows you to disarm him as if he were an unsub, but you feel helpless as you struggle to put distance between the two of you. He followed you across the room, kneeling over you and pinning you against the floor before delivering another harsh slap to your already-swollen cheek. 

“Listen to me when I’m talking to you.” He growled, and you gulped. He smirked, before grabbing you by the hair and throwing you against the closest wall. You see stars, but you will yourself to stay awake. You’re scared of what he might do if you can’t fight back. 

“Oh yeah? Just working, at 2AM when everyone else is gone? And what was that he called you? Invaluable.” He spits out, pulling you up roughly by your forearms. He leaned in close, presumably to intimidate you. You don’t give him the satisfaction, looking him in the eye and doing your best not to let your glare betray your fear. “Well, we’ll see about that.” He smirked, reaching an arm around to take your gun out of its holster, placing it against  your chin. Your face dropped. 

“Josh… Joshua, you’re drunk. Let’s just go to bed, okay? I’m sorry I was out late. I’ll make it up to you in the morning. I swear.” You’re frantic, your training leaving you once again. De-escalate, de-escalate, de-escalate. “I’m sorry, baby. It won’t happen again, I promise. I’ll request a transfer so I don’t have to travel anymore.” 

He chuckled. “Okay, dear. We can talk in the morning. I’m going up to bed. Get that blood out of the carpet, will you?” He placed your gun on a nearby end table.

He kissed you on the forehead before he went to the bedroom, but the gesture had never been less comforting. He left you there, standing against the wall, blood streaming down your face. You slid down the wall, knees curled up into your chest on the floor, regulating your breath for a few minutes before you rose again. You holster your gun before tending to the blood on the carpet, realizing belatedly that you can’t get it clean because you’re still dripping all over the stain. You chuckled a little, although none of this is really all that funny, sitting back on your heels and looking up at the ceiling, wondering how the fuck you ended up here. Realizing you had no clue what time it was, you reached out your work phone, seeing a missed text from Aaron. 

Please let me know that you’re safe.

You looked around, at your blood on the carpet, at the dent your head had made in the drywall when Josh threw you against it. You brought a gentle hand to your face, feeling how your nose was definitely not in the same place it was when the day had started, and you sighed. Things with Josh were never perfect-- but this was too far. You texted Hotch back. 

I need help. 

Hotch could have easily blamed his inability to fall asleep on the cups of coffee you both had been drinking well into the evening, but he knew that wasn’t the case. If that were so, there was no reason for him to be flicking his eyes over to his phone every three minutes. But here he was, in his study, file open in front of him, and not a word of it absorbed.     

Finally, finally, his phone buzzed. He unlocked it fervently, anxious for the assurance that you were fine. Your text provided no such assurance. 

“Are you safe right now? Do you need medical?” He texted back, trying to keep his head for your sake. 

“Not urgently. Can’t stay here.” 

“You alone?”

“He’s asleep.” 

“On my way. Pack a go bag.” 

“Don’t come in. Light sleeper. Just text.”

You were suddenly grateful for the load of laundry you’d left in the dryer that morning, tossing it all in your go bag without folding it. When you realized that you didn’t know when or if you’d be back here, you took the lockbox off the top of the fridge and pulled out all of your important documents-- your passport, birth certificate, social security card--you tuck them all into a file folder as you feel your phone buzz. 

“Outside.” Hotchner texts you plainly. You gingerly pick up your bags and slip out the door, careful not to make any noise. 

Hotch is out of the car in an instant once he sees you-- he doesn’t know what he expected, exactly, but somehow you look worse, even from a distance. 

“Hey, hey, give me that.” He said, taking your bags from you. “You said you didn’t need medical.” He said, accusatory, but not mean. 

“I said not urgently. I didn’t want you to send an ambulance.” You told him. “I feel fine. I just need advil.” You said as the two of you climbed into his SUV. 

He looked you over, incredulous. Your nose was definitely broken, and he couldn’t tell in the dark of the night, but he was pretty sure you were still bleeding. Your cheek was swollen from where he slapped you, and you were sporting a black eye, likely a complication of the nose. And that was just what he could see. He shuddered, although he tried to hide it from you. 

“We’re going to the hospital.” He said, turning his key in the ignition and taking off.

“Hotch, I just want to sleep. Please. I’ll take myself to the hospital in the morning, I promise.” You practically begged. 

He turned his head towards you. The only thing he wanted more than to give in, in that moment, was to make sure that you were safe. “Did you hit your head?” He asked, 

“What?” You asked. 

“Did you bump your head at all, when everything happened?”

“Yeah,” you told him, running a hand over your head and feeling the tender bump that was forming there. You cringed, and Aaron caught it. 

“I’m sorry, but we need to take you to the hospital. You probably have a concussion.” He apologized. 

“I really don’t want to go through the whole ‘you were clearly involved in a domestic dispute’ thing that they’re going to do,” you complained.

“You don’t have to answer any questions you don’t want to answer. I just need to make sure you’re okay. Everything else goes at your pace.” He promises you, sneaking a glance away from the road and over to your face. You’re already looking back at him. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

Already looking back at the road, Hotch took one hand away from the wheel and gave your forearm a quick squeeze in response. You drove in silence for a few moments before Aaron pulled into the hospital.

“Alright, let’s get this over with so we can get you to bed.” He told you, climbing out of the car before coming over to your side to help you walk. Truth be told, you didn’t really need assistance, but your hip hurt so badly that you were limping, and it seemed better to have Aaron slowed down by helping you, rather than just by watching you. 

The emergency room was, thankfully, deserted, and you were seen relatively quickly. Aaron offered to stay in the waiting room but you asked him to come with you. 

“I, uh. I don’t really want to be left alone right now, if you don’t mind.”

“No, no, of course not.” He said, standing and following you and the nurse. 

“What brings you in, dear?” The nurse asked, moving slowly to accommodate your pace. 

“My boyfriend beat the shit out of me.” You said, figuring she might make it easier if you  just bite the bullet, and Aaron shot you a glance. You shrugged in response, and then noticed the nurse’s eyes shifting between the two of you. 

“Oh, no. Not him.” You assured her with as big of a smile as you could muster, given the amount of pain that you were in. “He’s a friend. He picked me up.” You explained as she led the two of you into an exam room, shutting the door behind you. Aaron helped you up onto the exam bed gently, choosing to stand nearby rather than sit in the chair provided.

“Okay, ma’am. Our policy for domestic disputes is not to involve police unless requested by the victim.” You cringed at her word choice. “We don’t want this to be more stressful than it already is. What we do instead, is we take a detailed account of everything that happened to cause you bodily harm, and if you decide to pursue any legal action, we can send those records along on your behalf. So can you tell me what happened tonight?” 

You glanced over at Aaron before you started, taking a deep breath. He wasn’t going to like this. You told the nurse, clinically, what had happened, leaving out the things he had said to you for Aaron’s sake. You did your best to keep your emotions in check, although regurgitating everything that had happened was making you feel sick. You glanced over at Aaron-- his jaw was set, his mouth in a straight line, nostrils flaring, even as he stared at the linoleum tile on the floor. You closed your eyes and attempted to zone out as you continued, as if you could distance yourself from the emotions by imagining that it was just a story you were telling. 

“And then he pulled my gun out of my holster---”

“Ma’am, do you have a gunshot wound?” The nurse interrupts you, voice slightly panicked.

Oh, shit. You probably didn’t need to include that part. Your eyes are open in an instant, and you look over at Hotch. He’s pissed, and not looking at the floor anymore.

“No, no. Sorry, that is um--- that’s clinically insignificant. He didn’t fire the gun or strike me with it. That’s how it ended.”

“Okay, hon. Why don’t you get changed,” she said, handing you a hospital gown, “and I’ll send the doctor in in just a second.” 

“Thank you,” you said, and Aaron echoed his thanks. 

“Clinically insignificant?” Aaron asked incredulously as the nurse shut the door. 

“Can you turn around? I need to change.” You deflected.

He turned to face the wall as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “He pulled a gun on you, (y/n).” He shook his head as you quickly changed. 

“I know. I’m sorry. You can turn back around now.” You told him.

“No, I’m sorry. How long has this been going on for? How did I not notice?” He asked as he turned to see you, practically swimming in the oversized gown.

“I think we all work really, really hard not to be profiled, Aaron.” You tried to comfort him.

He was interrupted before he could respond by the doctor knocking and then swinging the door open.

“Good evening, folks.” The smiling blonde woman said. “Let’s get you home so you can sleep some of this off, yeah?” 

It takes a couple of hours, but you’re sent home with a nose that’s set back in place, as well as a prescription for enough pain killers to put a large dog in a coma, in addition to the confirmation that you did, in fact, have a concussion. Your hip, thankfully, was just bruised. 

“She needs to be woken up every couple of hours for the rest of the night and the day tomorrow. Just to be safe.” The doctor told Hotch. 

“Not a problem.” He said resolutely. 

“Do you have any questions?” She asked, turning to you. 

“When can I go back to work?”

“Well, if you work at a computer--”

“I work for the justice department. So, I guess I’m really asking about field work.” You clarify.

“At least ten days, and that’s if you’re feeling better.” She said, giving you a stern look. You visibly deflated, knowing that if the doctor said ten days, Hotch wasn’t letting you in the field for at least twenty. 

“Thank you, doctor.” Hotchner said, placing a hand on the small of you back as she opened the door and allowed you both out. 

“Of course. Call us if anything changes.”

You trudged out to the car in an exhausted silence, sure that you’ll fall asleep as soon as the car starts moving. Once you’re buckled in, Hotch speaks. 

“I’ll tell Strauss that we aren’t coming in today,” he says offhandedly as he cranes his body back to pull out of the parking spot, his arm strewn across the back of your seat for leverage.

“We?” You questioned. 

“You need to be woken up every two hours. I can’t exactly do that from the office.” He reminds you. 

“I can just set an alarm on my phone, it’s not a big deal.” 

“Uh huh, and when the alarm doesn’t wake you up because you have a brain bleed?” He’s teasing you, but you also know him well enough to know that there is a very real twinge of anxiety behind it. 

“Hotch,” you scoffed at his joke, breaking into a smile despite yourself. “I don’t need you to take care of me.” You added more seriously. 

“I know you don’t.” He placates you. “But will you let me do it anyways? Plus, you’re not the only one who didn’t sleep last night.”   

“I guess that’s my fault.” You admitted. 

“Hey, I’m glad you called me. And I’m also glad the bureau has a generous sick leave policy. We both need it right now.” 

You can sense that this is an argument that you’re not going to win, and even if you could, you don’t have the energy to try. You close your eyes and lean back against the headrest in the car, giving him a resigned nod before you fall asleep.