#jack: reads something that’s in Russian or something

[mvncesa]

thinking Thoughts about jack again and the idea of him being ‘programmed’ to understand multiple languages??

[kitasgloves]

Hiiiii! Just read your classmate Fyodor, and I'm telling you, it made me fall from heaven then up again for another skydiving experience, loved it. I'm just wondering what would happen if we figured him out and confronted him. If we offered him a deal, "if you make us pass, we can still share a bed and..." you know, would he agree, or is us failing a part of the fun for him???

omg thank you sm anon! i'm ready to deliverrrr <3

— ♬ NSFW

part 1

Now, proposing a deal to FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY could seem like a gamble considering what kind of person he is. He does enjoy seeing you fail after he got what he wanted from you. It does seem that he's merely using you for his selfish desire or gain, and the idea of him discarding you afterward is possible. But a deal where he and you can mutually benefit sounds appealing. To think that the sex he initially thinks is a one-sided benefit is also a benefit for you, captures his interest.

The genius didn't anticipate you to find out sooner he was taking advantage of you and tricking you. He didn't expect you to sternly approach him after class. He was mildly impressed by you expressing your distaste of his trickery, though you weren't completely mad at him. That's when you proposed the deal that if Fyodor helps you pass the class, you'll let him have sex with you. Of course, he was reluctant and cautious at first, he's used to taking deals where only he would benefit. But ultimately, he thinks the deal will be harmless and that he has the upper hand.

Fyodor will tutor you at the same café previously, but this time teach you the correct information. And afterward, you two would fuck either in your dorm or at his house. Since the exams are coming up and students are beginning to prepare, those tutoring sessions become frequent. You two didn't often study at the café.

Sometimes it would be in the university library, you would secretly suck Fyodor's dick in the inconspicuous corner of the library near those boring history books. There are moments when you two would be at the park, and then it would end up with you pressed against one of the trees, away from prying eyes, with your skirt flipped up and your panties down while Fyodor pounded into you. And there's that café that became you and his favorite, you two would be quiet and seemingly deep in study, but it's either you're jacking Fyodor off or he's fingering your pussy from under the table.

However, the most frequent spot would be your dorm room or his house. Your roommates aren't constantly there, so there are chances to sneak Fyodor in for a tutor and a quick fuck. But you genuinely looked forward to studying in Fyodor's house. The genius reeked of old money with how large and empty his home seemed. It had a dark undertone that gave the impression of an old Victorian household. Fyodor would invite you in with nobody home but there are instances where you would briefly encounter a few members of his family.

His mother saw you the most, it's evident that Fyodor got his stunning looks from her. She was a kind and religious woman. She welcomed you in as if she had known you for years, even insisted that you eat dinner after being 'tutored' by Fyodor. Unfortunately, Fyodor would always insist with a tight smile that you weren't hungry, which made you pout. On a rare occasion, you'd see his father. Fyodor got his mysterious and intelligent aura from him. You can't help but feel like that man knew you and his son were doing more than just studying. Something about his knowing gaze as he smoked a cigar made you internally squirm.

Fyodor's room had a minimalist and old look to it. There were multiple bookshelves with books but there was a touch of modernity with a single computer for browsing the internet. Fyodor would tutor you on his study desk, which was often littered with papers either written in Russian or shorthand. The only reason you took the tutoring seriously was the fact that you'll get fucked by Fyodor in the end as payment and secretly a reward. But you're beginning to understand and appreciate everything the genius was teaching you.

Fyodor felt conflicted at the beginning. Something about you casting him a beaming smile and showing him the results on your test paper, which was significantly higher, made his stomach stir. Fyodor did think of maliciously tricking you again and taught you topics that he knew weren't going to appear on the exam. However, you seemed to learn quickly and managed to pass despite being tutored incorrectly.

He was annoyed and was rougher when you two were fucking after those tutoring sessions. He didn't like how you seemed to benefit more than him. He'd express his frustration by delaying your orgasm to the point that you would sob nonstop. Sometimes, Fyodor would punish you for not answering his questions right by pressing a vibrator against your clit while having you tied against the chair, he revels in seeing you squirm and struggle as he slowly increased the vibrator's setting to max. Sometimes, he'd let you cockwarm him. You'd be situated in his lap with his cock deep in you while you wrote your notes. He'd smirk and thrust his hips up making you yelp and mess up your handwriting. You'd always give him that adorable glare before restarting in a new page again only for him to do it again.

You and Fyodor agreed that the duration of this deal will only last until the end of the semester. As disappointed as you seem, you know that you shouldn't build a studying habit of being dicked down by the genius. After all, you just need a little help passing this one class.

It was the final exam the next day, and you busted your ass (or rather got fucked in your ass) studying. With a miraculous surprise, you ended up getting the highest score in the entire class. And what made it seem more unbelievable was that you managed to get a higher score than Fyodor. Naturally, this became the talk of your peers. Who is this ordinary girl who surpassed the mysterious genius Fyodor Dostoevsky? You were showered with praise and attention by your classmates and professor, which made you blush. You did feel genuinely proud to pass that exam with flying colors.

When you turned to Fyodor, eager to rub your test paper all over his face, you froze at the sight of him seething at you in his seat. He was gripping his pen, and his balled fist rested on top of his test paper. You gulped. Why was he mad? Was it because you surpassed him? That's ridiculous! But Fyodor seemed to care about results and being bested by someone as lowly as you.

You tested the waters by approaching him and congratulating him for also passing the test. He coldly ignored you, grabbed his things, and left the classroom. You were dumbfounded. You figured he'd get over it. Plus, the deal you and he had expired today. You won't be needing him for tutoring anymore and he can go fuck with someone else. Though the last thought pained you, it was best to not get hung on about it.

Fyodor behaved like he never knew you. There were a few classes he shared with you, but he acted like you didn't exist. His parents wondered about you and why you stopped visiting, he'll always give some sort of convincing excuse to shut them up. He didn't like how they were seemingly fond of you. He couldn't focus when he was studying in his room. Fyodor got too used to you being seated beside him, or on top of him, warming his cock, or with your hand jerking him off.

He gritted his teeth and dropped his book as he hastily pulled his pants down. Fyodor fisted his cock with the thought of you bouncing on it. He has put you in so many positions. On your knees, on your back, on all fours, against the wall, on top of him. Fuck, his hand goes faster. He has never jerked off so aggressively before. He thought about your smile, the sound of your laugh, the smell of your perfume, and the lingering touch of you tracing his jaw after he had exhausted you.

"Fyodor..."

His name sounded so natural coming from your mouth. You called for him and moaned his name countless times that it repeated in his head like a broken record. Fyodor has an earth-shattering orgasm with his hips bucking up wildly as spurts of cum stain his abdomen and hands. He comes down from his high and realizes how much of a mess he has become. He scowls as he goes to clean himself up.

You did try your hardest to not seem affected by Fyodor's avoidance. You knew he didn't view you as a friend or much less a lover. He probably only saw you as a toy to play with or someone to relieve his stress with.

During one of your shared classes with Fyodor, you two ended up being paired for a project. Your heart fluttered with excitement as much as you wanted to deny it. But you wanted to be professional this time, completely discarding your history with the genius. The deadline for the project was due in two weeks and it needed joint effort.

After class, you took the initiative to approach him so you and he could discuss how you two would do the project. Fyodor surprisingly agrees with you. Initially, you suggested the café as a place to do the planning, but he rudely cut you off and changed the location to his house. Your heart skipped a beat.

Fyodor's parents seemed overjoyed at seeing you again after so long, you admit that you've missed them. You couldn't even mutter a greeting to them when Fyodor grabbed your wrist and led you up to his room. You were roughly shoved inside as he locked the door. Fyodor corners you to his bed and leans down to grab your jaw. You looked up at him with bewildered eyes before he smashed his lips against yours in an open-mouthed kiss.

The kiss was unusual. It was filled with urgency and had a hint of desperation. Fyodor has kissed you a few times when you two used to fuck, but it was always quick and lazy. But this one was fueled with passion. You try to pull away from him for air.

"Fyo—mmph! The pro-project—!"

Fyodor pulls away and frowns down at you. His pale face was unnaturally flushed.

"I don't give a damn about that stupid project"

"But we'll fail—"

"Заткнись!"

[Shut up!]

He yells at you making you freeze. Fyodor seemed breathless as he pressed his face against your neck before slowly pulling you into an awkward embrace.

"I'll...I'll take care of the project just...stay"

"Stay?"

"Stay here, with me"

You blinked at his reply. You reluctantly returned the embrace making his chest constrict. Fyodor didn't want to admit his growing attachment to you. He did feel pathetic but to think you might return the sentiment made the corners of his lips curl up into a smile.

damn this really got self-indulgent whoops

[intuitive-revelations]

The near future in the Doctor Who universe sure gets dire doesn't it? Especially if Mad Jack / Roger ap Gwilliam is still part of history.

I thought I'd have a bit of fun listing things out, combining as many sources as possible. Turns out he fits in shockingly well with what we know. There's a lot missing here or cut out, and for obvious reasons it's very UK / Europe focused, but nonetheless:

[ID: Scene from The Christmas Invasion showing Harriet Jones on BBC News. The news ticker reads "PM HEALTH SCARE", "Unfit for duty?", and references a "SECRET GOVERNMENT MOLE" and a quote: "BLOOD ON [HER HANDS]".]

2006-2021 (obviously the past now, but still noting for the resulting temporal and political butterfly effect) - In the original timeline, Harriet Jones remains Prime Minister for 3 consecutive terms, presumably 15 years assuming no snap election was called, referred to as a 'golden age' [World War Three]. The Tenth Doctor deliberately changes history to cause her deposal [The Christmas Invasion], leading to numerous disastrous terms in the meantime, including those of Harold Saxon [The Sound of Drums et al.], Brian Green (who tried to appease the 456) [Children of Earth], Boris Johnson (an auton host of the Nestene Consciousness) [Rose (novelisation)], and Jo Patterson (responsible for deploying cloned Dalek defence drones in the UK's streets) [Revolution of the Daleks].

[ID: Scene from Revolution of the Daleks. A 'defence drone' Dalek is used to support anti-riot police in a test, dispersing protestors with mock tear gas.]

2010s-2030s - The European Union gradually integrates further, eventually becoming the European Zone / Eurozone, a global superpower which competes with the USA through the 21st century. The UK eventually forms part of the bloc [Trading Futures].

It's likely that Harriet Jones's deposal led to this and related events being delayed or erased, with Brexit (driven by, among others, one of Jones's successors in the new timeline) reducing european unity. Most notably, Ramón Salamander's rise to power occurs now not in the 2010s [The Enemy of the World], but in the 2030s [Doctor Who and the Enemy of the World]. There are other events that are seemingly delayed by ~20 years by changes to the timeline, including future events like the dictatorship of Mariah Learman [The Time of the Daleks, Trading Futures], and yet also possibly past events like the death of Queen Elizabeth II [Battlefield, The Longest Night et al.], which may suggest something else (eg. the Time War) may be responsible.

~2030 - During a time of rising global tensions [73 Yards], Ramón Salamander convinces a group of scientists in an underground shelter endurance experiment that nuclear war has broken out on the surface. They are convinced to generate artificial "natural" disasters to fight back against the enemy. Between this and ongoing climate change, several global food sources collapse as a result, including Canada and Ukraine's corn and flour production [The Enemy of the World].

2031 - Tensions culminate in the "Great Russian War". Despite posturing, not a single nuclear weapon is fired, at least by NATO [73 Yards]. This may be later considered World War III [Trading Futures].

~2032-2035 - Following the war, tensions rise again, now between the Eurozone and the USA [Trading Futures], possibly in reaction to actions (or lack thereof?) taken by NATO during the war [73 Yards]. Both send separate peacekeeping forces to conflict in North Africa. Meanwhile, Italy is engaged in civil war [Trading Futures].

[ID: Scene from The Enemy of the World, showing Ramón Salamander.]

Over the decade, Ramón Salamander rises in power in the World Zone Authority, using his patented "Sun Store" satellite technology to aid the growth of crops by controlling sunlight over agricultural regions. In the background, he murders and blackmails officials to place loyalists into powerful positions, with the goal of ruling over the World Zone Authority as a dictator. Salamander's treachery is later discovered and he disappears [The Enemy of the World].

2037 - 2042 - Several militia declare wars of Independence from the USA. Notably, Phoenix, Arizona is destroyed in a terrorist attack. While the country largely persists after the conflicts, some territories seem to successfully secede - with, for example, a Montana Republic seemingly being in existence in 2054 [Alien Bodies].

2038 - The World Zones Accord is signed. This is later considered to have reduced the United Nations to a 'joke' compared with the World Zone Authority [Alien Bodies]. Given the extensive power it gives to the WZA, this was likely originally part of Salamander's plan, but due to his disappearance he is not around to reap the rewards [The Enemy of the World].

2039 - A group of Mexican astronauts studying minerals on the Moon go missing [Kill the Moon].

~2030s - 2040s - The Earth begins to experience major climate change effects, including "appalling storm conditions" which harm agriculture [The Waters of Mars]. The ice caps melt and flood much of the Earth [K9] with nations like the Netherlands ending up entirely flooded [St Anthony's Fire]. Some regions experience corrosive acid rain [Cat's Cradle: War Head, Strange Loops]. One summer sees Britain experience a 22 week drought. At this time, the Eurozone closes its borders to millions of North African and Baltic Sea refugees [Hothouse]. This time period may be known as the "Oil Apocalypse" [The Waters of Mars].

[ID: Scene from K9 Episode 13: Aeolian. Big Ben stands in the middle of a colossal storm of wind and rain.]

With Earth's ecosystems collapsing [Davros], humanity begin to realise it's facing extinction [The Waters of Mars]. An artificial cooling agent is spread in the atmosphere to semi-successfully combat the effects, but leads to dramatic side-effects, including freezing some areas of the globe. This is known as the "Great Cataclysm" [K9].

2041 - A three-human team, including Adelaide Brooke, lands on Mars for the first time [The Waters of Mars]. However, with this accomplishment, and increasing turbulence on Earth, Humanity gradually loses interest in space exploration [Kill the Moon].

Before 2045 - Around this time, the UK falls into a dictatorship ruled by the "Director", head of a military council that has allegedly (secretly?) controlled the government since 2028 [Britain Protests]. It is possible that this Director was previously the "Minister of War" for previous governments [Before the Flood].

2045 - The World Zones Authority evolves into a World Government, with Nikita Bandranaik being elected President. The UK is not part of the organisation [This is 2065].

2046-2050s - The Director is overthrown [Down with the Director] and the rest of the government "collapses in shame" [73 Yards]. Some of the revolutionaries celebrate now being "masters of [their] own country" [Down with the Director]. Despite the hopes of the World Government for international integration, this nationalistic streak continues.

[ID: Scene from 73 Yards. Roger ap Gwilliam, with an Albion Party ribbon on his chest declares victory on BBC News, live from Kennington High in London. Headline reads "LANDSLIDE VICTORY FOR ALBION PARTY: Majority of 92 predicted. Roger ap Gwilliam declared Prime Minister."]

Roger ap Gwilliam is elected Prime Minister, with the far-right nationalistic Albion Party gaining a majority of 92 MPs [73 Yards]. While his government does take the step to officially join the World Government senate [Down with the Director], he seeks greater independence from other nations. One of his first actions is to expand the UK's nuclear arsenal, purchasing missiles from Pakistan and withdrawing from NATO. In his term, the world is brought to the brink of nuclear war [73 Yards], likely in the pre-2050s "Euro Wars" [The Time of the Daleks].

In this time, the "Department", a (private?) multinational security organisation is born, based primarily in the UK. They gain broad powers, which they use to control populations with propaganda and use of "CCPC"s: robotic law enforcement notorious for their surveillance and brutality. Despite its recent revolution, the country is rendered practically a police state [K9].

[ID: Scene from K9 Episode 1: Regeneration. CCPCs, hulking police robots, march down a dark alley.]

2049 - The Moon starts to dramatically gain mass, causing massive tides on the Earth, flooding entire cities. In a last ditch at survival, humanity plans to try and destroy the Moon using an array of nuclear bombs. Despite the people of Earth being offered the vote on what to do by turning off their lights, it appears the decision is made on a national level, with lights going off grid-by-grid. Nonetheless, the Moon is allowed to hatch, leaving behind a new less massive egg "moon" with minimal further destruction [Kill the Moon].

[ID: Scene from Kill the Moon. The Moon hatches in the background, as the TARDIS stands by the sea.]

Humanity's interest in space exploration returns [Kill the Moon], starting a new space race. Among these projects, Australia begins constucting a space elevator, Spain a project called "SpaceLink", while Germany and Russia each begin a series of new Moon missions. The Philippines are rumoured to be planning their own landing on Mars [The Waters of Mars].

~2050 - The UK Government (ap Gwilliam's?) is couped once more, by General Mariah Learman. With the King's permission, elections are suspended for at least a couple years, with her ruling over a "benevolent dictatorship". She is later abducted and forcibly mutated by the Daleks [The Time of the Daleks]. Despite the previous description, her promotion of Shakespeare in schools is remembered as the only good thing about her rule [Trading Futures]. (Note: As mentioned prior, it's likely that Learman's rule may have been delayed as Salamander's was. This is suggested by the mention of her in Trading Futures, set seemingly ~2030s or earlier, despite The Time of the Daleks taking place around the 2050s.)

~2050s - The Gravitron is built on the new Moon. This is used to artificially control the tides and weather [The Moonbase]. It likely also is intended to study and monitor the new Moon for future changes [Kill the Moon].

[ID: Scene from The Moonbase, giving an external shot of the base.]

2058 - 2059 - Bowie Base One is established: humanity's first colony on another planet and an international collaboration between the UK, USA, Russia, Germany, Turkey, South Korea, Lithuania, Australia, and Pakistan. One year later, it is mysteriously destroyed in a deliberately triggered nuclear explosion. In the original timeline, there were no survivors. However, after the interference of the Time Lord Victorious, the true story is eventually told on Earth. Regardless "a veil of darkness" sweeps over the planet over the next few years. [The Waters of Mars], as international tensions heat up once more... [Total Eclipse of the Heart].

[ID: Scene from The Waters of Mars, showing an internet news website. Various articles appear focused on the Bowie Base One incident, including "SURVIVORS STORY - BROOKE SAVED EARTH", "THE MYTHICAL DOCTOR", "BROOKE'S HEROIC ACTIONS SAVE EARTH", and "HOW THE COUPLE ESCAPED MARS". The feature image shows the two survivors: Yuri Kerenski and Mia Bennett.]

2060s - The "Great War" breaks out on Earth, involving every country on Earth. This is likely World War IV. Details are vague, but it ultimately ends in a ceasefire, when it's realised the conflict is risking Earth's habitability [Total Eclipse of the Heart].

[sunny-day-jack-official]

Sunny Day Jack Report 07/11/2023

Wednesday means it's time for our weekly development report, and this one's a nice big one for everyone to enjoy! Those of you who have been following us on Twitter may have noticed that we redesigned our logo for SDJ. The majority of the devlog will talk about our process behind that, so read it for free on Patreon or click the readmore for the important bits!

Unity Demo Version 0.03

Changelog:

Fixed video rendering while playing on the Steamdeck (via Windows Proton Compatibility)

Added missing CGs

Game extended slightly past the kissing on couch scene

Select narration from Y/N reworded for clarity

Macintosh OS compatible version has been added

Known bugs:

Certain voice lines may be missing or cut-off

This update was largely focused on ensuring stability before adding in more content. Those who backed the SDJ Kickstarter can access their beta testing keys via this link, while SnaccPop Patrons who pledge a minimum of $12/mo can access their beta testing key over here.

For our MacOS players, you may encounter issues launching the game due to Apple security, so please follow this tutorial to temporarily disable Gatekeeper (we recommend turning it back on afterwards). We're investigating ways to avoid Gatekeeper flagging the game, so please bear with us! As for our Linux/Steamdeck players, for the time being, please use the Windows version and use Proton Compatibility to play the game.

Logo Graphic Redesign

Like with the previous SnaccPop Studios logo, the SDJ logo was due for a makeover. For starters, the old logo was tiny.

Yes, that's literally the largest size we have on hand for the original SDJ logo source file, and everything else is just blown up bigger in size if need be. Astute viewers may also notice that the Something's Wrong With portion of the logo was also slightly off-center this entire time, as With was hanging off the edge a lot more than Something's. Another issue that came up as we continued working with our translators was the fact that we'd most likely need logos in the target language too; adapting the old logo was near impossible because all we had left of it was a .png file. At this point, making a new logo just made sense.

The new logo largely retains the important elements of the original one. Using the Buddy Belt motif as the background image and the use of two distinct fonts, a formal serif for SWW and a more bubbly sans-serif for the SDJ that essentially captures the essence of Jack's dual personality, were ideas Sauce carried over. Additionally, his signature primary colors palette is much more clear in the text, making this logo more easily identifiable. After nailing down a good foundation and centering the text, Sauce overlaid faint scanlines reminiscent of old CRT display monitors then splashed some blood here and there; all in all, the new logo is a nice visual of the ludonarrative dissonance the game itself aims to achieve.

We'll pass the mic to Gureii here when it comes to the localized logos!

Translation & Localization

Hey there! Gureii (she/her) here. You might know me from one of the previous devlogs posted here on Patreon not so long ago.

 I’ve been asked by BáiYù to present you a tiny (okay, not that tiny) little treat for both the Russian and the Japanese-speaking folks out there who are interested in our upcoming game, Something’s Wrong With Sunny Day Jack.

Let me introduce you to the new localized logos real quick:

One of the most interesting aspects of working on these was the brainstorming session behind both of them. As the Lead Russian translator of this project, one of my main concerns was to come up with the title translation that would be both both simplistic and catchy, hence the name change from a statement to a question. The localized version of the title - «Что с тобой, Джек?» - includes both the questions a player would ask to Jack himself: “What happened to you?” and “What’s wrong with you?”, either depending on their opinion towards him or both of these at the same time.

The Japanese translation team, on the other hand, opted for something much more laconic, to which I was happy to comply! They're only using Katakana to translate the commonly abbreviated title into【サニー・デー・ジャック】, which will be easy for Japanese speakers to read (it'd be pronounced "Sanī dē Jakku"). It's short and punchy, and it's not unusual for Japanese logos to have the English text as well.

Another aspect (a tricky one this time!) was looking up the Cyrillic and Kana fonts that would match the mood of the English logo we got: it gets quite tricky when we talk about anything but Latin fonts, and it gets even harder when we talk about something that is as bold, youthful and bright as it is. For example, with the katakana transcription the Japanese translation team and I had to search for something that would not scare the person interested in playing the game, something much more inviting than the crimson lettering used on the English logo. The bloody Buddy Belt portion of the logo will still indicate to potential players that this is a horror game, so it works out.

By the way, you might be asking yourself, "Why isn't there a Spanish version of the logo?" Both Pierre and Nana expressed that translating the title wouldn't sound nearly as good as the original English title (a literal Latin Spanish translation would be "Algo Malo Pasa Con Día Soleado Jack"). Luckily, both English and Spanish share similar alphabets, so it's as big of a difference compared to Russian or Japanese.

---

And that's all we got for this week. Thanks again for your continued support of SnaccPop Studios!

[phefics]

congrats my darling!! you deserve it 🥺

🍪 could i request a nsfw alphabet with robin? 💖

𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐚’𝐬 𝟏𝐤 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 // omg tysm love, of course u can!!! i have answered a few of these questions about her so i just copy-n-pasted my previous answers for some xoxo

a: aftercare (what they’re like after sex) very cuddly, rambles a lot about how much fun it was and how hot you are, giggles at the messy sheets, and probably wants to stay up talking after.

b: body part (their favourite body part of theirs/their partner’s) to quote steve harrington, "you like boobies" ... robin likes boobies but also thighs.

c: cum (anything to do with cum basically) robin gets really wet, which she initially thought was a bad thing until you assure her that it's a really good thing.

d: dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs) the obvious answer would just be her liking girls but if you’re fucking her, you already know that, sooo i’d say its maybe her inexperience - robin prides herself on her intelligence and ability to get shit done regardless of her nerves, but admitting that she has never even kissed anyone is something she would be embarrassed to do, especially if she’s trying to impress you

e: experience (how experienced are they?) she is completely inexperienced, like, has never even kissed a girl before you!

f: favorite position (this goes without saying) robin likes to have you sit on her face, or to just lay between your thighs. if a strap is involved, she likes to fuck with whoever's being penetrated on top.

g: goofy (are they more serious/humorous?) tries to be serious but ends up giggling and being silly

h: hair (how well groomed are they are, etc.) robin isn't big on shaving but she does definitely keep herself trimmed.

i: intimacy (how they are during the moment) robin is giggly, talkative, and completely lovestruck.

j: jack off (masturbation headcanons) robin really doesn't masturbate?? she's inexperienced and a little behind when it comes to sexual awakenings - she figured out she was a lesbian like two years ago, ok?? and she doesn't really understand...how...and would probably need to read it in a book or have it demonstrated on her.

k: kink (one or more of their kinks) personally, i don’t see robin as super kinky, or at least, she’s not super experienced/informed and therefore wouldn’t know much about what she’s into. however, i can see her being into dom/sub dynamics (i think she’s more of a sub) and some of the more common things like edging and praise. i also think she has a tickle kink but that is just me projecting ajdkdjkdf...

l: location (favorite places to do it) robin would never risk getting caught in public, for many reasons, so her favorite place to do it is in bed - classic, comfortable, intimate, and safe from prying eyes

m: motivation (what turns them on, gets them going?) robin is turned on by just about everything you do, but she is motivated by the idea of pleasuring you, like, getting down on her knees to go down on you like a woman starved. she has a people-pleasing tendancy that definitely extends to the bedroom.

n: no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) robin doesn't like behind restrained or hurt in the bedroom, mostly because of the whole russian spy thing, but even without the added trauma, it just really isn't her thing.

o: oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) robin loves oral sex from both ends. she prefers it to fingering and before getting more sexually involved, i feel like she didn't really consider that straps were a thing and assumed oral was the best-case scenario.

p: pace (are they fast and rough/slow and sensual?) robin likes to take things slow. when she's nervous, her instinct is to be frenzied, so she prefers to calm herself and do everything slow to savor it.

q: quickie (their opinions on quickies) robin prefers to just have sex in a more typical, vanilla way. in bed, take things slow, lots of kisses...so nah, quickies aren't her thing.

r: risk (are they game to experiment?) robin is down to experiment with most things, but she prefers to stay in her comfort zone most of the time, since sex is still new and intimdating for her.

s: stamina (how many rounds can they go for/long do they last?) robin is able to go for a long time, and can have multiple orgasms like most vagina-owners can - she can keep at it for a while.

t: toy (do they own toys/use them? on a partner/themselves?) robin is rlly into toys!! she loves strap-ons, whether that’s being fucked by one or fucking someone else. vibrators are also great, she has a tiny one of her own that she masturbates with, but using it with a partner would unlock a whole new world of fun!!

u: unfair (how much they like to tease) robin isn't good at trying to be a tease, because she will likely give in before her partner, lol.

v: volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make) robin is loud and talks a lot, she can’t help it - it’s sometimes nervous rambling and sometimes mindless babbling from pleasure

w: wild card (a random headcanon) self-indulgent one here, apologies - robin is super ticklish and often will accidentally laugh and twitch during sex when you touch her too gently or in a senstive spot. luckily, that isn't a turn-off for her, it just flusters her, so if you didn't mind, it could be something fun to play with...

x: x-ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants) robin has a pretty bush, it's dark and doesn't match the curtains yknow?? her pussy is a dark pink and gets wet so easily, she's almost always glistening by the time her pants are off and you can spread her lips...

y: yearning (how high is their sex drive?) robin has been yearning for a relationship for so long, when she finally has it, she wants to fuck whenever humanly possible. it's not even that her sex drive is high, it's more like trying to make up for lost time.

z: zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) robin is pretty hyper and struggles to sleep most nights anyway, and sex doesn't really tire her out as much as it probably should, so she'll be down to stay up and hang out afterwards.

[batshitferalejsimp]

My Particular EJ Headcanons!!

(I don't have a particular last name or nothing decided, like I've seen some of the cool folk coming up with)

Minors DNI

My eyeless jack is big, VERY BIG, like brick shithouse big, he's 6ft8, and very large and very muscular. I wouldn't say he's shredded, though. He's got like an off-season body builder or power lifter build, with like a healthy layer of fat over it. He's very gifted in the chest department✨️

In my mind, he was a Russian transfer student, studying over in America for his medical degree, feeling a bit isolated due to the lack of peers and friends, and that's when the cult snatched him up.

His voice is usually even and calm, but when he's pissed off, it gets almost layered... but not quite, and it's just off.

He has a bit of an accent (think Nikto from COD), and couldn't care less about hiding it.

He doesn't really care too much for being called EJ or Eyeless Jack. He prefers just being called Jack, but he won't really correct anyone on it because he doesn't care enough.

Over the years, he's set up some contacts through slenderman and has a somewhat successful career in the organ market. He also has a credit card and the like for when he needs to buy new supplies and whatever else he would need. He's probably one of the more put-together creeps, not that it says much about him.

He moves so quietly that it's actually scary, like you turn around and suddenly he's behind you, just watching.

He does a lot of watching and staring and has a habit of tilting his head when confused or trying to investigate things.

He can eat things other than kidneys or just human flesh. He just NEEDS human flesh fairly regularly and will start talking/mumbling to himself, getting aggressive and violent if he goes too long without human flesh, until he snaps and attacks the nearest human, no matter who they are. It usually takes 2-3 days for symptoms to start showing, and he keeps himself well fed, so it isn't usually an issue.

He sometimes hums to himself while working.

Believe it or not, he does sometimes go out in public, especially during and since the pandemic, wearing a mask and sunglasses with a hoodie, isn't suspicious if he pays, acts polite and doesn't act an ass. He can't go out and about as easily as jeff can, though.

He's very clean and sanitary, and oftentimes, if it can be helped, he doesn't kill his victims. He keeps his space clean.

If he needs to get organs, he usually targets men or criminals. He's not fond of harming women and children(he will if he MUST, but he won't be happy about it. )

His morality and emotions are somewhat dulled and disconnected from him.

He can see, and he can see quite well. However, he can't look around without turning his head. He can't side eye as much as he would like to with some of the shit that goes on in the mansion.

He can cook, and he's decent at it, but he usually doesn't because he can eat his food raw and the rest of the people in the mansion are assholes.

He's often getting stuck in fights with Jeff due to Jeff wanting a fight and knowing just how to make EJ fight him. EJ doesn't enjoy this but wins 60-70% of the time.

He enjoys going on walks or reading in his free time, watching a good amount of documentaries, and trying to stay on top of the lastest medical science.

He drinks and smokes, and he can get drunk, but cigarettes do not affect his lungs at all. Which disappointed him when he found out...

He has a strong sense of smell, and when he smells something he doesn't like, his face scrunches up visibly like a cat. It happens a lot around the other creeps in the mansion, particularly Toby.

He sometimes gets like mini zoomies, but he usually just goes out for a run and comes back when he's done.

He sleeps on his stomach or his back depending on how safe he feels, but he never really sleeps on his side unless there's someone else in the bed.

He eats A LOT, often times raw meat(think cow, deer, pig or chicke), he's large and does a lot of moving around and exercise, so he definitely EATS

[jeanie-g]

your prompts are open!!!!!! ❤️ if it hasn't already been asked yet, may I request 17 - bookstores for jacknico? (if it's taken, carte blanche to choose anyyyyy other one that you desire hehe)

perhaps not quite what you were thinking, but i had a great time w it hehe <33

[#17] bookstores

Jack is at the end of his rope. Intro to Russian Lit is in three hours and he cannot find a single copy of Crime and Punishment within a 30 mile radius. This might just be hell.

You could argue that it was his fault that he didn't check the syllabus until this morning, but who the hell assigns the first three chapters of a Dostoevsky novel for the first day? And sure, he Sparknotes'd it, but he still needs a copy for class. Jack has a feeling Professor Keefe is going to be formidable, and he doesn't want to start his college career with an enemy already.

Jack checked the central library and the foreign library—even the fucking law library, and those students can smell the undeclared liberal arts degree on you—as well as the campus bookstore, but it seems like every Freshman at Newark U is reading this goddamn book, because every shelf was empty by the time Jack made it there. Even Amazon won't deliver in time; fuck Jeff Bezos.

So, it's with a rapid heartbeat and a prayer on the tip of his tongue that he enters a small, cramped bookshop a few trolley stops from campus. It's gotta be the size of two dorm rooms, but the shelves are floor-to -ceiling, filled with books in ever color, size, and age. "Hischier Books" it's called, Jack catching the wooden marquee painted red and white above the entrance.

Jack can't deny that the little shop is cute—he could see himself window shopping in a place like this—but he's on a mission. He only has two-and-a-half hours now.

Eyes darting around the different hanging signs showing the genres, Jack makes his way over to "Russian Literature." He traces the spines from A to B to C until he gets to D. Okay, The Idiot, The Brothers Karamazov, Short Stories: Dostoevsky...

And then it's onto the E's. That's it? No Crime and Punishment?

Jack groans and knocks his head against the shelf. Did every student in Newark have the same idea as him, just a few days earlier than he did? It's actual cosmic punishment is what it is—for the high crime of procrastination. He doesn't want to linger on the irony.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a voice pipes in. "Those shelves can only hold so much weight."

Jack jumps back, cheeks turning red. He turns to apologize but stops short.

The man before him is not much taller than he is, clad in a grey, cable knit sweater that hugs his frame, and a crimson red apron tied around his waist. His small name tag reads "Nico." He's brunette, bearded, and maybe the most handsome man Jack's ever seen.

His eyes, so big and brown, pin Jack where he stands, kind but slightly mischievous. They're slightly squinted as he smiles, lips soft and lithe, and Jack sees the cute little dimples carved into his cheeks. Pretty is the first word that pops into Jack's head, and it just pings around there like a waiting screen logo as he stands—stupidly—silent.

The man before him—Nico—crosses his arms and holy shit he's gotta go to the gym every other day to get arms like that! Jack hasn't even said anything and he already looks like an idiot in front of this beefcake.

"Sorry," Jack finally blurts, probably cherry fucking red at this point. "I...I just—"

"Looking for something?" Nico asks, and he has this sexy fucking accent, too. How did Jack not notice before? He's checking off every damn box on Jack's list and Jack is, well...

"Um, yeah, but you've—you know, book?" Jack wants to melt into the floor and die. He shakes his head and exhales. "Crime and Punishment?"

Nico seems unaffected though. He purses his lips. "Well, this is Russian Lit, Dostoevsky..." He walks closer to Jack, and he's only got a couple inches on him honest, but it feels like Nico's towering over him. Jack is very normal about it.

Nico comes to a stop a shoulder's length away and eyes the shelf Jack was looking at. His thick brow furrows as he scans for it, and Jack can only stare at him—his eyes, his barely-there stubble, the way a cowlick swoops down across his forehead...

Nico stands back up and faces Jack. "Yeah, I guess we sold our last copy," he says, and that kinda kickstarts Jack's brain back up.

Fuck, right, the book. He doesn't have time to flirt. Besides, he's making himself look like an idiot anyways.

He tears his eyes away from Nico. He's got a little over two hours. A little over two hours before he enters his first class and completely embarrasses himself, no doubt setting up the worst expectations for himself for freshman year, hell—probably his whole academic career. Because of one stupid, overrated—

"I'm sorry," Nico continues. "I could order it for you if you like."

"No, I kinda needed it, like, yesterday." Jack huffs out a laugh and turns away. "That's not your fault though, obviously."

"Need it for an assignment I'm guessing?"

Jack clicks his tongue. Nico at least seems semi-interested in his plight. What does he have to lose in detailing his woes to a stranger? He turns back around.

"My Russian Lit professor assigned the first few chapters for the first day, and my stupid ass didn't check the syllabus until this morning."

Nico chuckles, and then immediately apologizes. Jack has to smile at that.

"No, it is funny, trust me," he says. "And now I'm gonna totally humiliate myself when I show up and can't even read a passage from it."

"Let me guess, Professor Sheefe?" Nico asks.

Jack startles. Nico looks to be around his age, sure, but he kind of assumed he wasn't in college—not if he's working a shift during the day. "Yeah. You go to Newark U?"

The man shrugs, and his lips turn up into a tiny smile. "I'm a junior."

"Freshman," Jack replies, then instantly cringes. If he could seem any less cool—

"Well, I happen to be reading Crime and Punishment," Nico offers, trailing his finger along one of the shelves. "Some light leisure reading during my lunches."

Jack gapes. "Shut up, no you are not."

Nico nods. "I am."

"Dostoevsky is not leisure reading."

Nico, again, shrugs. It's too damn cute. Fuck.

"I can lend it to you if it'd help."

And Jack can't believe his ears. "You'd...you'd do that? I mean, you don't even know me."

"What's your name, then?" Nico asks, cool and easy.

Jack blushes. "Jack."

"Nice to meet you, Jack." He twiddles with his name tag. "Nico."

Jack smiles, not trusting his mouth to betray him and say something lame and embarrassing.

But then Nico's turning and walking, and Jack rushes to fall into step behind him. He leads him to back of the store, where the register is, reaches behind and grabs a book—and lo and behold, it's Crime and Punishment. Its pages are wrinkled from water damage and a corner's ripped off the cover, and it's perhaps the most glorious sight Jack's laid his eyes on.

Well, second glorious maybe.

Nico hands it to him. "It's not in the best condition, but—"

"It's perfect," Jack interrupts, flashing a gracious smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Nico's gaze is unrelenting, and Jack has to look away before he does something stupid like blurt out how hot he is.

"I can pay you or something."

"That's not necessary. It's my duty to assist our customers." He says the latter like he's reciting it from a handbook.

Jack snorts. "I'm not technically a customer if I don't buy anything."

Nico rolls his eyes. "Why are you trying to dissuade me?"

Jack lifts his chin, defiant. "Well, how are you so sure that I won't just keep it? Free book."

Nico pauses. "I'm not, but it'll help if I keep something of yours as collateral."

Jack chuckles. "Like what? I don't have much on me that'd interest you."

"How about your phone number?"

That stops Jack in his tracks, heart going double-time now.

Nico, sly like a fox, just raises his eyebrows in question.

Jack drops his gaze to the ground. "That could be arranged." And tapping some well of courage, "We'll have to figure out a rendezvous point for the book's return. Maybe Cafe Frejo, Friday?"

Jack finally picks his eyes back up, and Nico's grinning. "Works for me."

Jack gives Nico his number, inputting it into his phone with humiliatingly shaky hands. He says his thanks again, catching sight of those beautiful eyes one last time before he turns and exits the shop.

Two hours. Plenty of time to familiarize himself with the first three chapters.

It might be hard to focus now though. He's got a date on Friday, after all.

[hedgiwithapen]

DHD: Stargate, anyone(s) on SG1 gets telepathy. Hammond and/or Janet with telepathy also entirely acceptable.

Headaches came with command, George knew well. Every time he’d been promoted, his wife had cooked a celebratory meal and upsized the bottle of aspirin in the medicine  cabinet. But it was largely metaphorical headaches he had to deal with, or headaches walking around in human bodies, like certain unnamed members of SGs 1, 3, and 5.  Mostly 1. Little frustrations, bigger frustrations, and concerns, and worries that were easier to label as a headache and move on. Being a little tired and overworked was part of the job of running the SGC, and it was worth a headache now and again to keep his family--his country--his planet-- safe. This headache, though, felt like his first ever hangover, back when he’d been young and stupid and unsupervised. “General?” Major Carter asked. He blinked at her, trying to recall what exactly her report had been about. Something about the trees on a planet--no, that wasn’t right. The bees? No…badgers? Badgers sounded right. He glanced at the written report to confirm. Badgers. Not any weirder than  sentient water that had taken out so many Russians a few weeks back. “Yes?” he asked. “You have a question, Major?” “Sir, not to be blunt but are you ok?” she asked, “He doesn’t look well. I guess I wouldn’t either, with all the fuss Senator Kimsey is kicking up, he’s got an awful lot on his plate.” “I would appreciate it, Major, if you didn’t refer to me in the third person,” he grit out, waving a hand at her obvious dismay.  “I’m fine, just a headache. You’re dismissed.” “Sir,” she acknowledged, though George could hear her muttering about oddness and doubting the headache ‘story.’ As if he was lying about the pounding in his head. It wasn’t like Cater, and George let himself wonder for a moment that Colonel O’Neill had rubbed off a little too much on his team. The headache lessened, some, as he read over the report in the quiet of his office. It worsened again when someone tapped at his door. “Come in,” he barked. The sooner he dealt with whatever emergency Dr. Frasier had uncovered, the sooner he could try to take a little catnap. “General Hammond,” Dr. Frasier smiled. “I was just speaking with Sam, and she expressed some concerns. Could you tell me a little about your symptoms? Headache? Migraine? Brain tumor?” “For heaven’s sake,” George said, feeling a little like Jack. “ I do not have a brain tumor.” “I see,” Dr. Frasier frowned. “I think Sam was right. Telepathy.” “Telepathy?” George squinted at her. “Dr. Frasier, I don’t want to question your judgment, but that seems a little far fetched.” “I’d agree with you,” she said. “If I’d said my suspicions out loud.” “Oh,” he said, and really, what else was there to say? Ah, right. “ How on earth did I…” “Could have been something brought back from that planet, something in the mind that resists our decontamination…of course, no one else seems to have come down with it. I’m sure Daniel will be eager to go back and find out. For now, as your doctor, I suggest you get lots of rest, and avoid crowds. He’s here practically around the clock, maybe it’s a good time to see--” “You think I should go home? Like this? Doctor, I have two very sweet granddaughters approaching middle school. The last thing I want to know is what’s in their heads.” She laughed. “Understandable. I’ll tell everyone to leave you be.” “No, wait,” he stopped her. “See if O’Neill and Harriman can be spared.” “Can I ask why?” George pulled out a deck of cards. “I want to see how far I can take this. Since I’m officially off duty per your orders and all.” “Get pictures,” Dr. Frasier laughed again. “We’re all going to want to see the look on Jack’s face. Good luck, sir.” 

[equallyshaw]

little lion | Luke hughes au! ↠ all about luke and liona. ↠ au Masterlist! ↠ also not in order, these are random thoughts!

met in october 2023

they do not officially date until 11/04/2023

split time back and fourth between newark and greenwich village

the type of couple to wake up at sunrise, get a coffee and bagel from the corner truck and walk through central park

luke is for sure the one that runs into pigeons and acting like a fool

only to get kailey to laugh

life's mission of luke is to make kailey happy and laugh at all times

intimate touching instead of kissing in public, always having to hold hands or have a hand on a thigh, of their lower back. especially if they go out at night, luke makes sure they are glued to each other at all times

the most competitive board gamers (monoply- absolute feral and scene it harry potter- she will kill whoever- including luke to win. so will luke.)

kailey got luke into harry potter and made him read the books early on in their relationship

actually, she got him onto reading in general. will read anything now.

luke demands one broadway show a month from kailey, meaning they put on the cast album and she belts out the songs with him.

luke absolutely adores kaileys mom, helen. will constantly ask about her and shamelessly asks for home cooked meals from her.

kailey adores it and whenever he gets homesick, she brings him over to her mom's or invites her to hang out and he's grateful for the relationship

luke does not meet alex until July when she invites him out to Washington dc for a visit

one of their favorite dates is to go to painting or paint pottery

they also like to go to watch movies, because she is a movie fanatic and it's something simple to do

her first game that she goes to is the last home game before christmas break, with a win over detroit

nicknames for kailey: pretty girl, calls her by her middle name 'kai', my romashka - meaning my cammie or chamomile, and my lioness

nicknames for luke: pookie, lukey, my love, darling, and Mashunechka (an generic intimate nickname)

huge fans of ice cream and ice cream dates

huge sweettoothes in general

when summer comes around, kailey visits michigan as much as she can between working her nannying job and working at the local bookstore in georgtown.

once her dad finds out about him, kailey and him go to cape cod

around their 6 month mark, kailey see's something on social media and quickly feels like luke might be cheating on her based on the limited space between the two. she even calls her dad about it, but does not mention specifics.

their song is: say yes to heaven, by lana del ray

just like how people belt out to taylor swift and are obsessed with her? that's them with olivia rodrigo and tate mcrae. no hesitation.

when kailey's in a particular mood or stressed with school, luke will come over to her apartment or she will come to his and jacks and they will have a star wars marathon.

as a fashion major, she feels entitled to update his fashion. as well as jacks, because they both need it.

she researches curly hair routines, and the both of them continuously try new things to find out the perfect routine, for him.

she teaches him russian, dubbed "little lion lessons". she teaches him the basics and simple greetings and conversation words. he surprises her though about six months in when she is having a harder time with her mental health, and gives her a whole ass talk in russian and like she thought that she knew he was the one she wanted to marry. but she REALLY knew he was the one.

luke learns enough russian to have a basic conversation with kailey and alex. alex is pretty stunned to say the least. he goes, "you mean he didn't flunk out of highschool?" in old slavic to which luke didnt understand.

uncle geno is the BIGGEST fan of the two

she tells him before she tells her dad

when pittsburgh visits new jersey, he invites her out to dinner along with luke.

in summer of 2024, she joins the cast of hadestown at the off broadway theater for a limited time run as eurydice, for the month of august. luke comes to her first week of shows before heading to michigan to get some things settled, before pulling quinn, jack and his parents for the finale on the 29th. after a two-day staycation, her and luke head back up to nyc and jersey for the year.

cape cod is their place - they get a offseason house in 2028.

luke and kailey ended up going 4 times during their first summer being together

they have a very important talk one morning over coffee and croissants and just know that that is where they are meant to visit at least once an offseason.

some angsty thoughts:

once she graduates in 2026, she has a hard time figuring out what she wants to do. her dream is to open a boutique clothing store in manhattan somewhere or on the cape or georgetown, but doesn't know short term.

ends up going to Washington for about two months, and it just so happened to be when alex was moving from Washington to new york to get back together with kaileys mom once he retires at the age of 41, a year after kailey graduates, he and her mom decide to give things a go again after some really good years the past few.

but she's in Washington while he is back in michigan, and even though luke is trying his hardest to give her the space she needs and craves, its difficult. he is moody af and at times does NOT train.

kailey calls sent a text over in july, stating she needed a break for a bit and that she would reconnect with him once the season begins.

luke has such a shit show of a summer after that + the beginning of season.

kailey spends july through September in the hamptoms with her parents, after alex helping fulfill her mom's dream. summer in the hamptons. (for longer than a week)

luke gets hella jealous because andrei visits for a week in august before heading back to carolinas. he hates how close the two are now that they are on a break.

OH and he also does not like her bestie chris, and thinks he still is in love with her but we'll get a blurb for that at some point hehe

when kailey returns to nyc with her parents she does not expect to see luke in the city.

he always used to say he hated the city when he was not with her

that the reason he loved the city with her, was because she gave it life and energy. he loved seeing it through her eyes.

she was very shocked to see him and he was stunned too. he didn't expect to see her the first time he headed into the city.

but nico being the swiss princess that he is, has to come up and greet her when she goes to dinner with her parents at Soho house

and then the rest of the group comes up, and alex is NOT happy

he doesn't care for any of them, she whispers in russian "be nice dad."

but he see's luke and relaxes a bit.

he really likes luke and began to feel like maybe they could be the real deal before their break.

but anywho

alex talks some sense into his daughter (calls her a dummy) and literally drops her off at the train station to head down to jersey to talk to him. (will get blurb at some point!)

and she does

and yknow, they get back together and what not.

and ofcourse, not without luke promising that he's gonna marry her one day. even though they had talked about it many times, and their future together- she knew it to be soon.

hope you all enjoyed!

please like and reblog if you did (:

[david-tennant-addict]

can you do TF2 Heavy headcanons, like a sort of alphabet? I saw the one that you did with the Sniper, if you want you can do it in the same genre!

OMG! Yes I’ll give you a lovely heavy nsfw alphabet headcannons! I LOVE that big adorable guy!

——MINORS DNI——

Heavy NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He is so sweet. He will clean up and even read you on of his favorite books. Let’s just hope you know Russian

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his hands because of how big they are 😏. He loves your hips because he can wrap his hands around them so easily

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He secretly love to cum in you or on your back

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He likes to use toys either you use them on him or he uses them on you

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He isn’t too experienced but he’s read a few smuts in his free time

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes being ridden because he can use you like a flesh light but also because he can see your face. As long as he can see your face he loves the position

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Nope unless something funny happens

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He is well groomed but sometimes he’s too busy to keep up with it so he’s hairy

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Very. He likes to moment to be loving but rough

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Not unless he SUPER pent up

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Bondage either one you or him

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

anywhere in private

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

you say or do something smart especially if you speak Russian to him he’s like puddy

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I would say hurting you but….there’s medic so I guess killing you

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he’s a 6/10 and he prefers to give rather than receive but he doesn’t mind to receive once in awhile

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

SUPER fast

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

3 times a month. He’s not a big fan of it but if you need it he’ll give it to you

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’ll take risks once it awhile but not often and that’s with fucking in public

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can go for a good 4 rounds before he’s out. He lasts for about 4 minutes

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own toys but he’s not opposed to using them as I stated before

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s fair unless if your unfair

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He grunts but he’s not too loud unless he’s overstimulated which is rare

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) he likes to speak Russian while doing it

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he’s fucking HUGE. I mean like 12 inches at most. Manz has a fuckin foot long!

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

about a 4/10 not too high but he still yearns

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he falls asleep in like 10 minutes after he makes sure you’re comfortable and safe

—————————————————————

I hope you liked it! I tried my best

[sequinsmile-x]

Prelude

Aaron smiles as he turns away from the picture, his focus on the box of their belongings at his feet, and thats when it happens. A glint of a reflection catches his eye in the glass of the photo frame, his past colliding with his present as he loses the ability to breathe.

-x-

Hi friends!

So, a while ago now I wrote a fic called Overture where Emily has a panic attack because she sees the benches where she met with Ian when she's out with Aaron and Jack. For a long time, I tried to think of an equivalent for Aaron and this week, inspiration struck!!

You don't have to have read Overture for this to make sense, although it is very briefly referenced.

I really hope you like this, and please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 3k

Warnings: Panic attack/PTSD

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily hated moving. 

She’d done it more times than she cared to count, so she was good at it, but that didn’t make her hate it any less. She had never been sentimental about physical belongings, something that had been useful when she came home from Paris to find all of her things sold, so it made moving easy. 

She quickly learnt that Aaron and Jack did not have the same attitude towards possessions. Moving into their new home with them, the house she’d bought for them with her trust fund, had been a learning curve. She’d sat with Aaron in his old apartment, the place she’d called home for the 6 months she’d lived there with them, and gently made fun of him as he packed their things into boxes. She’d sat in his lap and helped him decide what to keep and what to donate, lovingly calling him a hoarder when he tried to keep books he had never read and never would, rewarding him with kisses when he put things in the donate pile.

Moving, she realised, wasn’t anywhere near as bad when you were doing it with people you love. 

They’d started moving their things in just a few days ago and finally returned the keys for the apartment just that morning. Their furniture had been delivered, both from their old place, and the new things they’d bought for the house, and they were slowly unpacking. Jack was spending the night at Jessica’s, giving them some time to focus on getting as much unpacked as possible before he came back in the morning. They’d just had takeout, their first meal in their new home eaten out of the containers with plastic forks, all of their cutlery and plates still boxed up in the kitchen. 

She sighs in relief as she places a heavy box on the living room floor just in front of the shelves they had installed that day, “We have so many books.” 

Aaron chuckles as he walks over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist as he pulls her into him, her back against his chest as he kisses her cheek, “You say that like half of them aren’t those French and Italian novels you love.” 

She hums as she tilts her head to kiss him, her hands resting over his on her waist, the cool metal of her engagement ring pressing against his skin as she links their fingers together. She smiles as she pulls back, “You’re forgetting the Spanish and Russian ones too.” 

He laughs and turns her, his hands on her hips, “Of course, I seem to remember the Russian ones in particular being very heavy.” 

She narrows her eyes and wraps her arms around his neck, “Hey, I’ll have you know that reading Anna Karenina, or any Tolstoy for that matter, in English is nothing short of a crime.” 

Aaron smiles and leans in to kiss her, his hands slipping to her lower back as he pulls her closer, barely pulling back enough to speak, “Not all of us are polyglots, sweetheart.” 

She cups his cheek, stroking her thumb back and forth over his jaw, “It’s okay, honey,” she says, a teasing edge to her voice, a hint of patronisation they both know she’s faking, “I’ll read them to you.” 

He stamps another kiss to her lips and then pulls back, finally putting space between them that he knows they need if they have a chance in hell of actually getting anything unpacked this evening. 

“I hung up some of the pictures.”

She smiles when she looks over, a picture of the three of them that Penelope had taken at their recent engagement party staring back at her. She’s got Jack on her hip in the photo, and Aaron standing on her other side, his arms around both of them. She’s laughing at something Jack had said, smiling at him as their eyes meet, and Aaron is looking at them both, his affection for them clear even from behind the glass it had been framed in. 

“I love that picture,” she says, reaching out and squeezing his arm before she kisses his cheek, “It looks great there,” she steps back, “You know what helps with unpacking?” She says, winking at him before she turns and walks towards the kitchen, “Beer.” 

He laughs as she walks away, his gaze never leaving her until she’s out of view. He loved her like this, relaxed and wearing one of his t-shirts and a pair of leggings as she walked around their house. A pair of his socks on her feet dulling the sound of her footsteps on the hardwood floors she’d loved the second they were first shown the house, the same smile on her face she’d had only minutes later when the realtor mentioned the bedroom closest to the master would be perfect for a nursery. 

He looks back at the framed photo on the wall and smiles. He loved it too, loved that it wasn’t posed, that it was just a snapshot of them. A moment caught in time of what their life sounded like more often than not. Full of love and laughter and joy he would have once thought was impossible. He sighs contentedly as he looks at Jack, the way the little boy was smiling at Emily, the way his happiness at being in her arms was evident even behind glass. He loved their love for each other, loved that Jack would constantly ask when he was getting a baby brother or sister, his preference for a sister clear, and he felt like he’d kept his promise to Haley. 

He’d given Jack a family. He’d made sure he was surrounded by love. 

Aaron smiles as he turns away from the picture, his focus on the box of their belongings at his feet, and thats when it happens. A glint of a reflection catches his eye in the glass of the photo frame, his past colliding with his present as he loses the ability to breathe. Everything disappears. The smell of the takeout they’d had for dinner is replaced by the metallic stench of blood, thick and cloying as it fills the air. A sense of danger he never wanted to feel in this home chasing it, stealing what little oxygen had remained in his lungs. 

He can’t feel anything, frozen in place, ice spreading through his veins, freezing him from the inside out as Emily turns the corner and walks back into the living room. He can’t focus, his vision narrowing to a pinpoint, making him miss that it’s her reflection he’d seen, not George Foyet’s. He can’t hear anything, Emily’s attempts at getting his attention muffled as his senses disappear one by one, his focus still on the framed picture, on the shifting reflections shown in their smiles, how they force him back into a past he thought he’d escaped. 

He’s wrenched out of it when he feels a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back into the present as he grips the person’s wrist tightly, the bones shifting beneath their skin as he wraps his hand around it.  

“Aaron,” Emily says, pulling her hand from his grip, her concern for him overriding the pain as she does so, her brief thought about the bruise she knows she’ll have fleeting as she tries to get his attention, “Aaron, sweetheart,” she repeats, her hand on his cheek as she tries to get him to look at her, her smile encouraging as his eyes snap to hers, “It’s just me. I’m right here.” 

He sucks in a breath, his breathing erratic as he tries and fails to fill his lungs, “Em…” 

She smiles encouragingly and nods, pressing her forehead against his, one of her hands hooked around his neck, cupping the back of it to hold him in place, “Yeah, it’s me. It’s Emily.”  

She looks over at the couch, and groans in frustration when she realises how far they are away from it. She usually loved his size, loved that he was huge and heavy. It was something that brought her comfort, but now it was a problem, she couldn’t get him over to the couch, couldn’t move him, so she sinks to the floor with him. She settles him against her, his ear against her chest as she scratches against his scalp. 

“I’m right here, honey,” she says, pressing her lips against his forehead, “You can hear my heartbeat, right?”

He nods against her, his grip firm around her waist as he holds on, clinging so tightly that he knows he’d be able to get under her skin if he could. 

“Yes,” he chokes out, breathing her in, using the combination of the smell of her, the comforting scent of her perfume and her lingering underneath, and the beat of her heart to ground himself, “I can hear it.”

“Good,” she says, her lips against his forehead as she still scratches his scalp, knowing he found it comforting when he woke from a nightmare, “That’s good,” she blows out a slow breath, trying to regulate it, to calm down her own erratic heartbeat that had increased when she walked out to find her fiancee in the middle of a panic attack, “Just focus on that and me, okay?”

He nods, “Okay,” he closes his eyes and does that, shaking his head as he struggles to clear it, his eyes forced open again when he sees another flash of Foyet behind them, “I can’t…I can’t stop…” 

She forces her eyes closed and swallows thickly, wiping away a tear from her cheek that escapes as she reopens them. She rests her cheek against the top of his head and starts to hum, quietly humming the tune of a song she doesn’t know the lyrics to, hoping that the feel of the vibration of her chest along with the soft sound will distract him. 

It slowly draws him back to her, his breathing evening out against her, his grip no less tight as the tension seeps out of him, spilling onto the floor around them. They sit there in their huddled embrace in silence, time moving like syrup around them until he finally sits up enough to look at her, her fingers still tangled in his hair. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice thick, stuffed full of embarrassment and the fear he hadn’t entirely shifted, “I…”

She shushes him and cuts him off, shaking her head at him as she kisses his forehead, “You have nothing to apologise for, baby,” she says, shifting to kiss his cheek and then the corner of his lips, “It happens,” she assures him, her eyes kind and full of love as she pulls back, “Remember when I lost it because of a table and some chairs in a park?” 

Aaron chokes on a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob and nods as it catches on his ribs. It had been almost a year since it happened, since he’d watched her freeze in the middle of the park, her eyes fixed on a table he never would have looked at twice, the place where she’d met with Ian just before he turned her life upside down. They hadn’t been back to that park since - something Jack had understood once Aaron had explained that Emily had been scared by something there. He’d never even asked to go again, the young boy painfully aware of what it was like to be scared of something other people didn’t understand. 

Aaron knows it’s one of the reasons he and Emily worked. They understood each other in a way he knew no one else would be able to. Their different but similar pasts, the things they’d been through and the monsters they’d faced, bonding them in a way he knew he couldn’t live without. 

“You’re right,” he says, sitting up so his head is no longer on her chest. He doesn’t pull away from her entirely, their bodies still wrapped around each other as they lean against the wall, “Thank you.”

Emily smiles softly and cups his cheek, stroking her thumb back and forth over his skin, sticky with tears and sweat, “You don’t have to thank me either,” she says kissing him, “It’s what you do for the people you love,” she smiles as she pulls back, “Do you know what triggered it?” 

He swallows thickly, and nods, “Yeah, it was…” he clears his throat and nods up to the picture above them, “I saw something reflected in the photo frame, it was you I think, but…”

“You thought it was Foyet,” she finishes for him, her heart aching when he nods to confirm. He’d told her a long time ago, long before they were anything more than friends. It was back when he was still recovering from what Foyet had done to him, his wounds still healing as she brought him home from the hospital and helped him into his apartment. She knows he won’t want to talk about it anymore, not tonight anyway, so she reaches for his hand and links their fingers together, “I think we should leave the rest until tomorrow,” she says, nodding towards the boxes, “There’s a large, claw foot bath in our new ensuite that we haven’t tried out yet.” 

Aaron smiles gratefully and squeezes her hand, hoping she knows how much he loves her, how much she made his life better. 

“That sounds perfect, sweetheart.” 

___

When he wakes up the next morning, he has a headache. 

He groans as he gets out of bed, his fingers pressed into his temples as he leaves the bedroom, pausing when he hears movement downstairs, the familiar sound of Emily humming to herself as she walks around. It was rare for her to be up before him. He usually had to gently coax her out of bed, the promise of breakfast, coffee and no short amount of morning kisses usually enough to do the trick. She’d likely let him sleep in because of the night before, the concern that had lingered in her eyes, in the way she touched him, after his panic attack likely to stick around for a few days. 

He pauses when he gets downstairs, his eyebrows furrowing as he watches her take the pictures down from the wall he’d hung them on the night before, “What are you doing, Em?”

She turns to look at him, “I figured out if we moved these to that other wall,” she says, nodding her head behind her, “You won’t see any reflections coming around corners because of the angle,” she says, smiling as she leans the large framed photo from their engagement party against the wall, before she stands up straight, her smile soft as she turns to look at him, “We can just hang a canvas here instead, maybe save the space for a photo from the wedding.” 

He wants to focus on the unrelenting kindness she was showing him, the way she’d come up with a solution for a problem they hadn’t known existed even 24 hours ago, but he can’t. Instead, all he can do is stare at her wrist, exposed by her long-sleeved shirt riding up slightly, revealing her usually perfect skin marred by a bruise. 

He feels nauseous, his stomach rolling as he realises what’s happened, flashes of the otherwise patchy first moments of his panic attack coming back to him as he swallows thickly, “Did I…”

She frowns and she looks down at her wrist, cursing under her breath as she pulls her sleeve back down over her hand. She looks back up at him and sighs, taking a step towards him. She knows exactly what he’s thinking when he steps backwards, putting more space between them, and it makes her ache. 

“Honey…” 

“I did that. I hurt you,” he says, his throat tight as he shakes his head at himself, “I-”

“No,” she says firmly, cutting him off as she gets close to him, reaching out and wrapping her hand around his, stopping him from stepping back again. She looks fiercely at him, tightening her hold on him as she forces him to maintain eye contact with her, “You did nothing wrong.” 

“Your wrist is bruised, Emily,” he says, “I did that.” 

“You were having a panic attack, honey” she says, cupping his cheek, forcing him to look at her when he tries to look away, “You were in the middle of a panic attack,” she repeats, “You did not do it on purpose. You were scared,” she swallows thickly as tears press at the back of her eyes, the memory of seeing him like he was the night before not an easy one, “Fuck, Aaron, you’ve done worse during sex.” 

He chokes on a laugh at the unexpected joke, and it knocks all the fight out of him, all of his worry disappearing in a second as he presses his forehead against hers, “You’re something else, do you know that?” 

She nods, her forehead knocking briefly against his, “I know,” she says, stamping her lips against his, “That’s why you love me.”

He wraps his arms around her, pulling her into a fierce hug as he rests his cheek against the top of her head, “One of the many reasons.”

She smiles to herself, her cheek pressed against his chest, and then she pulls back to look at him, “Why don’t we have breakfast?” She asks, running her fingers through his hair, “Jack will be home in a few hours and we’ve still got a lot to do.” 

He nods in agreement and kisses her forehead, “Only one issue with that, sweetheart.”

She frowns and tilts her head, “What?” 

He can’t help but smile at her. He knew the guilt in his stomach would simmer for days, that it would come to a boil each time he saw the bruise on her wrist, but he knew she was right and that, for now at least, he would himself to forget it and enjoy his first full day in his new home with the woman he loves. 

“We haven’t unpacked anything in the kitchen.” 

-x-

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[jamisonwritestf2trash]

hiya :D

i love ur headcannons they always make me laugh reading them!

do u think u could do some on what subjects u think the mercs would teach if they were teachers?

What Subjects Would The TF2 Mercs Teach?

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Awe, thank you, Anon, that's so sweet 💖 I can definitely write this, it seems like a lot of fun! UH going to just assume that these guys are teaching at a college, so they get specialized fields to teach!

This is probably going to be very similar to "What Jobs Would The TF2 Mercs Have If They Weren't Mercenaries" post, so I'll probably keep this shorter so I don't end up repeating myself, uh I also added how the classes would like them as a teacher!

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Demo would teach chemistry, trying very hard not to dabble with anything too illegal in his classroom. He loves the way science almost works like magic when it comes to chemistry. Loves the bearly visible bridge between a perfect result and utter chaos. His students are both deeply terrified and greatly inspired by Demo. He's a genius when it comes to science, and it shows through the times he's deeply concentrated while teaching. May or may not have "accidentally" shown the class how to make explosives. Oops.

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Engie is a fan of biomedical engineering regardless of if it's his job or just something he'd be asked to teach to people who were curious about it. He has such a passion for the mix of two things he loves, helping people and making things. He will go on for hours, showing examples of how important biomedical engineering is, how impactful even one person in the field can be. His students would love the passion he speaks on the subject with and how willing he is to make sure everyone in his class understands the material.

————————————————————

Heavy would teach Russian literature after being inspired by his teachers. The passion they showed in their teachings and how willing they were to prioritize helping students evoked feelings in him that he never known. He does everything for his students, making sure that everyone is supported. He tries his hardest to give his all to make these students feel the same passion he has for it. His students love him, and his class is one of the most popular, has made large impacts on every student that's came into his class.

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Medic teaches, shock of all shocks, medical classes! I know, I know, but what can I say? He lives for the medical field. Keeps his class ethical enough, stating multiple times that as doctors, their job is to heal and save lives. However, some of his students who share the same, uh, curious shine in their eyes are more than welcome to attend a class that dips into the unethical side of medical practices. He's a good teacher, and his students are fond of him for his unsettling aura and passion.

(Can you tell I know jack all about medicine and how it's taught lmao)

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Scout is a teacher in sports journalism, and his class both loves and loathes him as a teacher. He loves sports, so writing about them is super easy! He has a lot of fun teaching other people the best way to describe things and how to put their feelings on the page, but he's also horrendous at spelling and writing in general. His class understands his struggles but gets rather annoyed when Scout pulls up an article he wrote and can't understand any of it. He's trying his best, and he makes a half decent teacher.

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Sniper is a photography teacher, and honestly? His class isn't for everyone. In Snipers mind through every picture he takes he's expressing a deep feeling or trying to invoke an emotion in the viewer, which he succeeds in most of the time, but it's hard for other people to replicate that when you, don't. Talk. To. Them. Some people just pick up photography and understand exactly how to do what Sniper expects without guidance, others can't understand at all. Basically, not a teacher, teacher.

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Spy is teaching political science, hoping he can somehow subtly influence a few students into using the knowledge he provided to find a profession in espionage. He's definitely a teacher who would make you nervous, kind of a mean teacher, but he never let's a student fall behind. Subtly offering help or an extension to make sure his students succeed. Claiming he doesn't do it out of love for his students, just so he isn't known for having any failures in his class.

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Soldier is the worlds best american history teacher, hands down. You want to talk about passion? He loves American history and will go on the longest rants and makes all of them entertaining. His class is never dull or boring. He's another prime example of a teacher who will do anything for his students and make sure they understand everything going on. No man left behind and all that. His students love him :)

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Pyro is a teacher of fire science (I didn't even know that was a thing, but apparently it is, who knew?) Pyro, being obsessed with lighting fires, knows quite a bit about all types of fire is more than happy to share their knowledge about flames. While their students can barely understand them, they don't call Pyro out on it as their passion for the subject transcends words. Pyro's class is less of a class than a period of entertainment, but somehow everyone comes away from the class knowing everything they needed, and even somethings they didn't.

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Short and sweet little headcanons, how fun! Sorry if it's actually too short! Thank you again for the ask anon, super fun to write :)

I'm just now realizing that there's a chance that this won't make sense because I'm a little tired while writing this, so I hope it turned out well. Sorry if it didn't, Anon 😭

[harringtonstilinski]

Always The Babysitter - Chapter Twenty-Two: The Flayed

Author: @harringtonstilinski​ Characters: Steve Harrington x Olivia Henderson(OC) Word Count: 3,322 Warnings: lil' angst, lil' fluff, falling elevators, confessions?? 👀 Smut: no | yes; A/N: Hi, friends! You're welcome, bye!! If you like this chapter, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

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Yup. We’re still falling. And still screaming, Steve having joined us. We were holding on to each other for dear life.

“Sweet shit, I’m gonna die!” I cried. Yes. I was crying. I was scared shitless.

Dustin’s screams of, “Shit! Shit!” came through the rest of our screaming.

“We’re going down, we’re going down!” Steve yelled.

“Ya’think?!” I yelled back at him. “We’re gonna fucking die!”

“Yeah, no shit, Harrington!” Robin yelled at the same time I did.

“Why don’t these buttons work?!” Dustin yelled.

I swear, we were all about to start having a screaming/yelling match. If we weren’t in the situation we were currently in, I’d be laughing my ass off, but… I couldn’t do that because… of the situation we were in.

I had Steve screaming in my ear, my own screams I’m sure going right back into his, Dustin and Erica were fighting over the buttons. Robin, I’m sure, was probably holding on for dear life, screaming at the top of her own lungs.

“Come on, press something!” Steve yelled.

“Just press the button!” I screamed.

I have no idea what happened next, but what I did know was that I was basically sitting on top of Steve, my whimpers sounding through the air as Steve held on to me, both of us breathing heavy.

“My groin,” Steve groaned.

“What?” I asked, looking at him.

“You fell on my groin.”

“Oh, shit!” I quickly made to stand up, giving him a moment to gather himself in that… region.

“Is everyone okay?” Robin asked.

I went to answer for myself, but Steve cut me off, saying, “Yeah, I’m great, now that I know that Russians can’t design elevators!” while walking toward the control panel.

“I think we’ve clearly established that those buttons don’t work,” Robin said.

“They’re buttons. They have to do something.”

“Yeah, if we had a keycard.”

“A what?” Steve and I asked.

“It’s an electronic lock.” Robin moved to the control panel, standing on the other side of Steve as she said, “Same as the loading dock door. If we don’t have a keycard, it won’t operate, meaning–”

“We’re stuck in here,” I breathed, my eyes dancing around the floor.

“Yeah.”

“Just so you nerds are aware,” Erica said. “I’m supposed to be spending the night at Tina’s, and Tina always covers for me. But if I’m not home for Uncle Jack’s party tomorrow and my mom finds out you four are responsible, she’s gonna hunt you down, one by one, and slit your throat.”

“I don’t care about Tina,” Steve said. “Or Uncle Jack’s party! Your mom’s not gonna be able to find us if we’re dead in a Russian elevator!”

“Hey,” Dustin said. I looked at him, his eyes cast up above my head, pointing. “What if we climbed out?”

Stacking up a bunch of boxes, Dustin was the first to climb out, Steve following him.

Feeling on the verge of a panic attack as Steve asked Dustin about climbing, I sat down in a corner, pulling my knees up to my chest. Resting my forehead on my knees, I sighed and closed my eyes.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been like that, or how long I’d even been asleep for, but I stirred awake, feeling fingers lightly stroke my arm. Looking at their owner, I smiled a little, seeing Steve sitting next to me.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked.

“Honestly, I didn’t even know I fell asleep,” I chuckled. Looking up at hearing Dustin’s voice, I heard him repeat the same thing over and over again. Groaning, I went to get up, but Steve’s hand on my arm stopped me.

“I’ll go,” he said before pressing a kiss to my temple. He got up, going over to the boxes they’d stacked to begin his climbing. “Hey. You gotta take it easy on that thing, okay? You’re gonna drain the battery.”

I couldn’t hear anything else after that, other than Steve shushing my little brother.

“So,” I heard Robin say. “How long have you and Harrington been a thing?”

Smiling a little, I said, “Like, 8 or so months.”

“Anything beyond kissing and hand holding?”

Darting my eyes between hers and Erica’s, I said, “Little ears, Robin.” Turning my sights up the ceiling of this damned elevator, I heard Dustin say, “What are you doing?”

Narrowing my eyes a bit, I whispered more to myself, “What?” before hearing what sounded like a stream of water. Getting up from my spot, I turned around and looked at the wall, sighing to myself and closing my eyes. “Baby, move your stream!”

I sighed again just before I heard something banging. Turning to see what it was, I watched Erica smack the container filled with that green stuff against a metal barrel. “Wait, Erica, don’t do that!” 

“Hey, hey!” Robin said, running towards the young girl. “Be careful, careful, careful!”

“We don’t even know what that is.”

“Exactly, Olivia,” Erica said. “It could be useful.”

“How?”

“We can survive down here a long time without food, but if the human body doesn’t get water, it will die.”

“I hate to break it to you, little Sinclair, but this-” I pointed to the green stuff in Robin’s hands, never taking my eyes off Erica. “-is not water.”

“No, but it’s a liquid, and if it comes down to me drinking that shit or dying of thirst, I drink.” She smiled at the end of her sentence, causing me to roll my eyes.

“God, you are a Sinclair,” I muttered.

Robin pressing her ear against the wall of the elevator caused my eyebrows to furrow in utter confusion as I said her name, a “shush” coming out of her mouth in response. She moved the table, climbing it before poking her head out of the shaft door. “We’ve got company.”

Erica and I quickly moved to the table where I made sure she climbed the boxes carefully to reach the top of the elevator before I followed her out, Steve helping me to my feet before closing the door.

The five of us either knelt or squatted while Steve watched the guards through the small square holes as they moved inside the elevator to retrieve a couple of boxes before going back out. I watched as my boyfriend looked at Erica, who was holding on to that green goo for dear life.

Just as soon as the guards left and the door was closing, Steve jumped back down into the room, just in time to put the container under the door, holding it up a few inches. One by one, we all crawled under the door, Steve looking at it on his way out, the glass on the container starting to give.

Once the glass gave, the liquid started to sizzle on the ground, like food being placed on a hot Hibachi grill.

Quickly standing, Steve said, “Jesus Christ,” as the goop ate into the floor.

“Still wanna drink it?” I asked, looking at Erica.

A few seconds later, I heard Dustin say, “Holy mother of God,” before we all turned to face what he was looking at; a super long ass hallway that seemed to stretch for what seemed like the whole country.

“Well…” Steve said next to me, grabbing my hand and lacing our fingers together. “Hope you guys are in good shape.”

Putting my hand on Dustin’s shoulder as Steve walked me by him, I said, “He’s looking at you, Roast Beef.”

“Let’s go, come on.”

“Why me?” Dustin asked.

“Because you’re wearing a Roast Beef shirt,” I said, walking beside Steve down this gigantic hallway.

~~~

“I mean, you have to admit, as a feat of engineering alone, this is impressive,” Dustin said.

Steve was giving me a piggyback. He claimed it was to help keep his strength up or something, I don’t know. All I did know was that I really wanted to nap.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, groggily.

“It’s a total fire hazard,” Steve added, slightly shifting me.

“No stairs, no exit. Just an elevator that drops you halfway to hell.”

“They’re Commies,” Erica said. “You don’t pay people, they cut corners.”

“To be fair to our Russian comrades,” Robin said. “I don’t think this tunnel was designed for walking.”

“Speaking of,” I said, turning my head to face Steve’s profile. “Do I need to start walking again?”

“No, baby, you’re good,” he said, turning his head to kiss my cheek.

“Get a room,” Robin grumbled before adding, “But think about it, they developed the perfect system for transporting that cargo.”

“It all comes into the mall like any old delivery,” Dustin said. “And Steve, put her down. She’s not helpless.”

“And then they load it up onto those trucks and nobody’s the wiser.” Shifting me again, Steve wondered, “You think they built this whole mall just so they could transport that green poison?”

“Shift me again and I’m walking,” I said.

“You’re slipping.”

“Then let me walk, dingus.”

Steve set me down as Dustin said, “I very seriously doubt it’s something as boring as poison.”

Shrugging after grabbing Steve’s hand, I said, “Maybe I’m just talking out of my ass here, but what if it’s a gate?”

“Yes, you’re talking out of your ass,” Dustin said, before continuing, “It’s gotta be much more valuable, like promethium or something.”

“What the hell is promethium?” Steve asked.

“It’s what Victor Stone’s dad used to make Cyborg’s bionic and cybernetic components,” Robin said.

“It’s a radioactive metal,” I said, looking at Steve’s confused profile.

“You’re all so nerdy, it makes me physically ill,” Erica said.

“No, no, no,” Steve said. “No, don’t lump me in with them.”

“He’s definitely not a nerd,” I said.

“Why so sensitive, Harrington?” Robin teased.

“He’s afraid of losing cool-points to a 10 year old.” Looking at Steve, I smiled, seeing a not so happy look on his face. Shoulder bumping him, I said, “Oh, come on. I’m just teasing.”

“I’m just saying that I don’t know jack shit about Prometheus.”

“Promethium,” I corrected. “Prometheus is a Greek mythological creature.”

“All I’m saying is it’s probably being used to make something,” Dustin added.

“Or power something,” Robin said.

“Like something to open a gate with,” I suggested.

“You’re still on that?” Dustin asked.

“Jeez, Dusty, I don’t know! I mean, with the shit we’ve dealt with for the last two years, it could be possible!”

“I was thinking more of a nuclear weapon, Liv.”

“Walking towards a nuclear weapon,” Steve said. “That’s great. That’d be great.”

“But if they’re building something,” Robin said. “Why here? I mean, Hawkins. Seriously. Of all places. At the very best, we’re a toilet stop on your way to Disneyland, but maybe that’s it…” Her and Erica continued walking as Steve, Dustin and myself stopped walking.

“You think the Russians know?” Dustin asked.

“About the–” Steve said.

“What I’ve been saying during that conversation?” I said, crossing my arms.

“They could,” Dustin said.

“So, it’s connected?” Steve asked.

“You two aren’t listening to me, are you?” I asked, looking between both boys.

“Maybe.” Dustin.

“How?” Steve.

“We’re breaking up.” Me.

“I don’t know, but it’s…” Dustin said, glancing at me.

“Possible,” both boys said.

Steve looked at me like what I had said just now registered. “Wait, we’re breaking up?”

“Oh my god,” I muttered, walking forward to Erica and Robin.

“No, wait, are we? Because that would suck!”

Turning around to face him, I quickly put my hand on the back of his neck, pulling him towards me. My lips met his in a passionate kiss, but before it could get too hot and heavy, I pulled away, pressing my forehead against his. “That the kiss of someone who wants to break up?”

“No,” he whispered. He went to dive back in for another kiss, but a throat clearing stopped him.

“Before you decide to have sex with my sister, can we please get going?” Dustin said.

The radio going off with a Russian man’s voice coming through the speaker brought Steve and I back to reality.

“Walkie,” the boys said, rushing over to Erica.

I had to steady myself on the bars next to me, Steve and my brother having almost knocked me down.

Robin had the walkie in her hand, reciting the Russian words, all of us kneeling on the ground. “It’s the code.”

“Wherever that broadcast is coming from–,” Dustin said.

“It’s close. And if there’s one thing we know about that signal…”

“It can reach the surface.”

Robin looked up at the ceiling before saying, “Let’s go.”

~~~

We somehow made it to a hiding spot behind what looked like a big A/C thing, the five of us crammed between it and the wall.

“Steve, are we clear?” I asked. “It’s getting crampy in here.”

He leaned forward a second before moving his whole body out of the way. “Okay, clear.”

One by one, we piled out of the hiding spot, following Steve. 

“Okay, that was close,” Robin said.

“Too close,” Dustin added.

Did I mention that we were almost spotted by a few Russians? No? Oh. Well… we were.

“Baby, this is dangerous,” I said, speed walking to reach him, my fingers sliding between his.

He tightened his grip on my hand, almost like he was telling me he was going to protect me from danger… like he always did. “Baby, we’re fine. The rest of you, relax. Nobody saw…”

“What?” I asked, looking from him to in front of us. “Holy shit.”

I couldn’t describe the room we were looking at because I didn’t know how to describe it. It seemed like a hub almost. There were guards keeping… well, guard. People in what looked like hazmat suits, doctors. Looked a little insane.

I made eye contact with a guard on accident, pulling Steve to a new hiding spot where we all crouched down, pressing our bodies against the railings next to us to try and hide our bodies.

“Red Dawn,” Dustin said.

“Oh, shut the hell up, Dustin,” I gritted.

“I saw it,” Erica said. “First floor, northwest.”

“Saw what?” Steve asked.

“The comms room!”

“You saw the comms room?”

“Correct.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Positive. The door was open for a second, and I saw a bunch of lights and machines and shit in there.”

“That could be a hundred different things,” Dustin said.

Turning my sights to Robin, she said, “I’ll take those odds.”

I looked at Steve, shrugging a little bit. “We need to find a way out, babe.”

He sighed like he didn’t want to have to do this, but knew there wasn’t another way out. He shook his a little before looking around the red metal box we were hiding behind. Everyone else followed his lead while I stayed put. When he pulled his body back, he faced me a little. His eyes stayed locked on mine while his hand went to my cheek, his next words directed at the whole group. “We’re gonna move fast, and we’re gonna stay low, okay?”

“Okay,” I whispered.

Steve placed a kiss on my forehead before turning back to face the front, moving in a crouched position to the grates that were catty corner to us, myself and the other three following his every move.

We stayed there for a moment before moving again, Steve turning to shush us for a moment. I watched him turn his head back forward, tucking his hair behind his ear. Damn, if that didn’t do things to me.

Hearing a door panel beep, I did my best to look around him, watching as a man in a lab coat walked out with an opened file folder in hand.

Steve slightly stood to watch the man pass by before reaching back for my hand and pulling along with him, telling the rest of the group, “Let’s go!” as we moved to the closing door, reaching it before it actually closed.

We silently went inside of the room Erica talked about as Steve stayed at the door, ready to close it once our little group was inside. I turned around, spotting a man in a Russian Army suit sitting in a chair. 

The man turned to face us, setting down his headset and standing to face us. He moved to grab something from his waist, both of my hands moving to Dustin and Steve, both boys standing on either side of me.

As the man did this move, Robin stepped forward, hand out as she said “Tread lightly!” in Russian, saying it again at his confused look before he asked us something in Russian.

“Silver cat,” she said, making a tail motion with her hand behind her as she said it again. I only knew she was saying this code to him because we heard a million times as she was translating it.

The Russian man said something else that I didn’t understand before Robin looked back at us for a moment before saying, “China?”

The guy scoffed, reaching for what I now know to be a gun a split second before Steve yelled and ran towards him.

“Steve!” I exclaimed, feeling a hand tug me back.

Steve wrapped his arms around the guy's waist, sending him back before he was tossed to the side by the Russian. He went to swing, but Steve backed out of the way, dodging the guy’s fist. Russian Dude grabbed Steve’s uniform and slung him over to the table next to them, Steve’s chest meeting the tabletop before he elbowed the guy’s stomach as he grabbed onto the back of the sailor uniform Steve wore.

Steve grabbed the intercom thing, switching it between his hands before smacking the guy across the face with it, sending his face to the table he sat at before hitting the floor unconscious. Steve breathed heavily, moving his hair out of his face. 

“Dude!” Dustin said, gaining Steve’s attention. “You did it! You won a fight!”

“Holy fuck,” I said, regaining his attention after he looked down at the man. “I love you.” I rushed forward, grabbing his face with my hands, my lips meeting his in the same kiss we shared in the hallway.

We pulled back a little, pressing our foreheads together for a moment before he breathed, “You love me?”

I nodded, smiling a little. “Yeah.” Pulling back to look into his eyes, I ran my fingers through the side of his hair. “I do.”

“Good,” he smiled. “Because I love you, too.”

“While that’s beautiful and all,” Dustin said. “We have a mission to accomplish.” I watched as he moved towards the guy, taking the keycard off of his belt.

“What are you doing?” Erica asked.

“Getting us our ticket out of here.”

“You want to walk all the way back?”

“Well, we can hang out for a little, relax, have a little picnic maybe,” Dustin replied, sarcastically.

“Have a picnic?” Erica said. “We came here for the radio!”

“This plan is way better,” Dustin said. “If I knew Steve could knock out a Russian–”

“He did say he could take him out yesterday,” I said, turning to face Dustin a little.

“Oh, don’t defend him.”

“Why not? He’s my boyfriend,” I retorted, crossing my arms. “You’d do the same with Suzie with a Z from Utah.”

“So, you believe me about Suzie?”

“We’re not talking about Suzie!” I exclaimed.

“Then what is this about?”

“It’s about getting out of here–”

“Guys,” Robin said, gaining all of our attention. “There’s something up there.”

We all followed her up the stairs and through the door as quietly as we could. We walked up the pair of windows, looking out at what I was right about.

“Holy shit,” Dustin said.

A laser device that was being used to open a gate.

Leaning down a little bit towards my brother, I said, “Told you.”

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

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A/N 2:  hi, friends! pls be kind and reblog! it really helps us content creators out <3

Additional Note: i absolutely love it when gaten screams shit. it's the best thing ever, lol

~~~

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Posted on March 25, 2024

[eyesthatroll]

wip catalogue ! ft. qh43, lh43, jh86, nm29, tz11, jc37, dm91

author's note; hey everyone, mari here, just wanted to say thank you for 1k followers!!!!!!!!1 that's crazy, and you guys are so so amazing and cool and swag. i thought about doing a celly, (fun fact, i've never done one of those!) but i've decided to save that for next time and attempt to do a draft clean out.

i have 117 drafts, really just pages upon pages of unfinished work that i'd like to get out at some point. so, if you enjoy my writing, under the cut will be excerpts from fics/oneshots/series' that i haven't finished. if any of them of them peak your interest, please let me know by either leaving a comment, or something in my inbox. i'll try and work on the ones that have the most interest first, and then finish the others. if this doesn't make sense, or you have any questions, you can let me know in the same fashion.

dad!jt compher x fem!reader

Eamon huffs out of frustration. “She’ll already marry Sammy B. by then.”

Laughter escapes JT’s lips, “and who is Sammy B.?”

He huffs again. “He has black hair, and he sits by her in reading. Why can’t I have hair like mommy?”

“I got my hair color from my dad, your papa, just like you got yours from daddy.” You explain.

���Well, I don’t want daddy’s stupid h-hair.” Eamon’s voice waivers, and the tears that he was holding in begin to free fall. He turns into your side, clutching your shirt.

This idea randomly came to me. Eamon would probably be in either first or second grade, and has a little crush like all kids have. Said crush doesn't like his hair color, and tells him that flat out because kids are menaces and very blunt. OR. Was floating around the idea of the same concept, but perhaps a teenage girl? tween girl, maybe middle school age, and the boy she likes only likes blondes, so she asks to dye her hair blonde? But obviously that conversation would be waaaay more mature. I don't know. If you have any thoughts, feel free to let me know.

———

jack hughes x fem!reader (best friends brother/kinda enemies to lovers)

"You can put your drink on my tab." A voice says, coming up from behind you, a hand on the small of your back as he takes a seat at the barstool to your right. You smile to yourself, shaking your head before turning to him.

You quirk a brow at him, "I did that already."

He rolls his eyes at your answer, taking a sip of his own drink, some beer you'd never heard of until earlier tonight. You'd taken a sip of Luke's earlier, and about gagged at the taste. "Of course you did."

You shrug your shoulders, no shame in your game. You were at a bar with about a dozen NHL players, you'd be damned if you had to buy your own drinks. "I already told Lukey I'm not paying for anything this weekend."

The request: Hiii can I request something where reader and luke know each other from college and they’re at a party or bar and jack is visiting luke so they see each other and jack is interested in reader but she’s playing hard to get 🤭

I changed the request a bit, so it's set in this season when Luke is already with the Devils, and reader visits during that 5 game homestead. This would probably be a long one shot, and I like the idea of combining these tropes:

forbidden

best friends brother

enemies to lovers (but not insanely enemies)

(more below, but a different part than above)

He scoffs, his hand pushing into your shoulder, playfully of course. "I love this relationship that we have."

You quirk a brow, bringing your glass to your lips, finishing off the rest of your white russian. "And what relationship is that?"

"The one where you pretend you're not in love with your best friends older brother."

"I always did like Quinn." You respond, an innocent smile on your lips.

"No-"

You cut him off. "Plus, he has that whole Captain thing going on. Very sexy."

"He has a girlfriend!" He exclaims.

You shrug your shoulders, leaning in closer to face him. "That's too bad."

You're obviously joking, but Jack doesn't seem to catch on. "And, you're too young for him."

You shoot him a questioning look. "But not for you, huh?"

He slides his barstool closer to yours, the fabric of his jeans making contact with the bare skin of your knee. "Are you still dating that college fuck, what was his name.. Alan?"

Your tongue rolls over your bottom lip. "Aiden."

He nods, feigning a look of realization, while you both know that he knew his name. "Right, Aiden." He confirms. "The guy who leaves you on the side of the road at 3am."

You scoff, shaking your head. "That was one time."

Your eyes shoot to his palm, that has found a place on your thigh, his warm hand against your cold skin sending a chill throughout your body.

"I could never leave a pretty girl like you on the side of the road." He continues.

Probably going to have a lot of bickering throughout the fic, reader will be hardheaded and uncompromising on fucking up her friendship with Luke. I haven't fleshed out the personalities I want them to have yet so this is in a very rough stage. If you have any thoughts, feel free to let me know.

———

nathan mackinnon x fem!reader (5 year age gap)

“Today’s my 23rd birthday.” You say, before taking a sip of your drink, your attention to the right, where a man as struck up a conversation with you at the bar.

He takes a swig of his beer, his eyes roaming your body before they finally meet your gaze again. He looks conflicted, his brows tensed as if battling an internal war.

You weren’t stupid. You graduated college top of your class—with honors, and even if you hadn’t, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that you were speaking to an older man.

The only man, to even catch a sliver of your entire, in the entire bar. You’d caught eyes with him from across the room, back when you were pushed in a booth with your friends. He looked away immediately, but you could feel his eyes on you every now and again, before you finally excused yourself from the table and went up to the bar. You wore a black slip dress, your hair cascading down your back with silver glitter hair tinsel placed throughout. You didn't bother turning to see if he would follow you, you don't chase, you attract. If he sat in the chair next to you, then he was buying you a drink. And if he didn't, then you'd move on to the next.

“Happy Birthday.” He finally said.

"What happened to your nose?" You were over the birthday formalities-having received them all night. You had questions for the man sitting next to you, starting with his bruised nose, a prominent and formidable feature dominating his face that you couldn't take your eyes off of. With him looking straight at you, you could see that it curved slightly to your right. Nothing stopped the thoughts of feeling it against your skin.

"My nose?" He questions. There's surprise in his tone of voice, like he forgot about the bruise on his nose, or surprised that you'd asked about it.

"Quite the shiner you got there." You comment again, bringing your glass to your lips again, this time finishing off the rest.

"Uh-" he pauses. There it is again with those tensed eyebrows, you wished you could gauge what he was thinking about. "Work incident."

"Damn, where do you work?" You let out a chuckle. You hadn't meant to be blunt, but you couldn't imagine what line of work would create a bruise like that.

He finishes his beer, setting it back on the counter with a light thud. "I work in..sports."

"What are you like a gym teacher?"

He laughs, for the first time since he's sat down next to you. You could tell that he had a nice smile. "Something like that."

Another fic starting in a bar. Don't know how this started, but very self indulgent as I am 22 and suffer from nate mac brainrot daily ! I have no idea for plot at all, literally nothing. I'd probably want to include smut of some sort, that seems very much where the vibe is heading, but I am absolutely terrible at writing it, so I'll have to do some research and practice writing that (if you have any tips-please let me know!!)

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader (debating on making this an oc)

Quinn and Reader (debating on making reader an OC!) are getting married in a week, and reader is still struggling to write her vows. Will probably be a long fic and include the wedding. A bit angsty, but a lot of fluff to make up for it. I'd probably give reader/oc emotionally distant parents?? Or maybe her parents are divorced? Not sure. It'll mid offseason, so we'll probably see a lot of familiar faces (j. norris, b. tkachuk, etc.)

Your frustration mounted as you released an exasperated sigh, the eraser of your pencil frantically working overtime to correct yet another line that failed to capture the right essence. You flicked away the eraser remnants with a swift motion of your palm, straightening out your legs and allowing the spiral notebook to settle in your lap. Leaning back against the arm of the couch, you closed your eyes, simultaneously opening and closing your hand in an attempt to alleviate the cramping in your fingers. A burgeoning headache threatened to take hold, and you could feel a slight discomfort in your eyes after hours of writing without the aid of your glasses.

A week, you were getting married in a week, and you still hadn't finished writing your vows. Admittedly, you had procrastinated until the last minute, but you hadn't anticipated the challenge to be this daunting. Your love for Quinn surpassed anything you had ever experienced, so why was expressing it in words proving to be such a formidable task? Frustration morphed into annoyance, and you carelessly tossed the notebook onto the modest coffee table before rising from the couch and heading towards the bathroom.

You were grateful that no one was home at the moment. Everyone had gone out for lunch, and you chose to remain behind, citing a lack of sleep the previous night as the reason for your decision to take a nap. While that wasn't entirely false – your night had indeed been restless – your true intention wasn't to catch up on sleep while the others were away. Quinn, being the caring soul he was, insisted on staying with you, but you resisted his efforts and practically ushered him out the door. That was about an hour ago, and you were keenly aware that their return was imminent.

Delving into the medicine cabinet, your fingers located the bottle of aspirin. You poured two into your palm, easily popping them into your mouth and washing them down with water from the sink. Gazing into the mirror, you couldn't help but cringe at your reflection. The extent of your fatigue hit you with full force – the bags under your eyes were darker than you had ever seen them.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader

This would probably just be a fluffy, short, domestic blurb, don't really have any other plot ideas for this.

Arriving home from work, all you wanted to do was take a shower and collapse into your bed. Tonight was an exception, with your shift extending later than usual, around 10:30, instead of your customary 9. Combine that with your regular hour-long commute, and it's almost midnight by the time you finally get home. Silently navigating through the dark and quiet house, it appears that your boyfriend is already asleep. However, as you step into your shared bedroom, you find him slumped against the headboard, eyes fixed on his iPad, headphones in.

The soft glow from the screen casts a muted ambiance in the room, the only sound being the distant hum of the city outside. Your initial fatigue gives way to a subtle pang of guilt, realizing he stayed up to wait for you, something he quite often did when he was home, even though you insisted he not.

He doesn't notice you, until you've crossed over to your dresser to grab your nightclothes before your shower, slightly jumping before dropping his iPad and taking out his headphones. "Hey, you're finally home." He comments, climbing out of his previous spot on the bed to sit at the edge of the bed, his legs hanging off the edge.

You yawn, turning around to face him. "Don't you have to be up early tomorrow?" You question. He pats his thighs, gesturing for you step over to him.

Leaving your clothes to rest on the dresser, you walk over to him. Quinn widens his legs so you can step in between them. Wordlessly, his fingers trail up your waist, to your chest, beginning to undo the buttons of your white lab coat. He slides the fabric off your shoulders, leaving only the black satin blouse you'd been wearing underneath.

He pulls gently at your collar, drawing your lips to his softly. His hands drop to your waist, gripping at your sides to guide you on top of him until you're straddling him.

"Are you okay, Quinn?" you ask, breaking apart from the kiss, just enough for your foreheads to remain pressed against each other.

"Just missed you." he mumbles, pulling you into a hug, his head finding a comfortable spot in the crook of your neck.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

jack hughes x fem!reader

Toxicity, angst, angry sex, maybe second chance love, idk.

"Where have you been?" Jack's inquiry slices through the air, surprising you as you step quietly through the front door. Your boyfriend, still awake and perched on the couch, rises to his feet the moment the door closes, arms crossed at his chest, a sour expression gracing his features. Your brows furrow in confusion as you lift one foot behind you, placing your hand on the wall for balance while attempting to undo your heel.

"What?" His question catches you off guard, especially because you had left him multiple messages earlier, clearly communicating your plans for the night—messages that went unanswered, leaving you on read once again. He sighs, a mix of frustration and concern, and crosses over to you, bending down. Without a word, he grabs your knee, gently pulling your heel-clad foot to rest on your knee, his hands deftly moving to undo the straps. He repeats the same with the other foot, before releasing you of his hold.

"I don't like you being out this late," he says, the firmness in his voice evident as he pushes himself up from his feet. Suddenly, he's towering over you, and you angle your neck to look up at him, annoyance etching your face.

"Sorry, Dad, didn't realize I had a curfew," you slur with a wry smile, a hint of laughter punctuating the absurdity of his concern. With a last dismissive glance, you shake your head and push past him, your shoulder bumping into his side as you ascend the stairs to the bedroom.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader

Quinn shows the reader that she can enjoy her birthday when the two of them spend it together for the first time. Would be super fluffy, reader will be written to have two dads, though I might make it an OC instead.

Quinn's persistent nuzzling against your shoulder blade disrupts your peaceful slumber. With a groan, you bury your head deeper into the pillow, yearning to cling to a few more precious moments of sleep before the demands of the day pull you from its embrace. Gradually, he initiates a series of tender kisses, commencing at your collarbone and concluding at that delightful spot just beneath your neck. "Happy Birthday, Angel," Quinn murmurs, his warm breath brushing against your skin.

Gently parting your eyelids, you shift on your other side to meet his gaze. His eyes are already fixed on you, brimming with adoration, as his teeth graze at his bottom lip. The morning sunlight filters through the blinds, casting a warm glow that accentuates just how gorgeous he truly is. Even in the early hours, with disheveled hair and faint remnants of drool, he remains undeniably handsome in every retrospect.

"Thank you," you express your gratitude softly, a subtle shyness tinting your voice.

Birthdays, even as a child, never held much appeal for you. The discomfort of being the focal point, the recipient of attention, has remained a constant, and birthdays, with their inevitable spotlight, are something you've always actively avoided. Yet, here you are, facing a birthday that feels different, primarily because Quinn is here to share it with you. This marks the first birthday you're spending with him in the span of your three year relationship, and it's a welcomed departure from the usual routine. It's a rarity, considering his demanding schedule that seldom grants him time off, but you know it's because he'll be leaving for a four game road-trip on Monday.

Reaching over, his hand envelops yours, fingers applying deliberate pressure that prompts a satisfying crack from your knuckles. It's a peculiar habit he picked up from you, a subtle exchange of quirks that began when you surprised him with it initially. "I have a special day planned for you," he announces, punctuating his words with a tender kiss pressed into the center of your palm.

"You know I don't want a fuss, Quinn," you mumble, weariness etched across your features.

He senses your reluctance and responds swiftly, his touch gentle as he brushes a strand of hair away from your eyes. "Not too much," he reassures, his words soothing against your worries. "Just want to celebrate you, Angel, on your day." Drawing nearer, he shifts, propping himself up on his right arm as he hovers over you. "Will you let me?" He wets his bottom lip, anticipation palpable as he awaits your response.

A small, close-lipped smile graces your lips as you reach up, your fingers delicately tracing over the overgrown scruff that lines his face. "Of course I will." A wide grin spreads across his face in response to your words, and he leans in, morning breath be damned, as your lips meet in a soft, synchronized dance.

He breaks apart, planting a kiss on your nose, before carefully stepping over you to get out of bed. "You get ready, I'll make breakfast."

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

luke hughes x fem!reader (but not really)

This is part two to Nobody's Love. I finished it, but I absolutely hate it, and will basically be starting over from square one. Below is where we would've left off, but when I finish this properly, it won't start with this dialogue, it will probably open within a flashback, and this part will be later in the story (if that makes sense).

"What's going on here?" Your blood runs cold at the sound of his voice, and you immediately break away from Jack, moving with an urgency as if you'd been caught doing something forbidden. Frantically, your hands move to wipe away the lingering traces of tears that you'd shed just moments ago. But your efforts to disguise your emotions prove futile as Luke's keen eyes detect the remnants of your sorrow, and his face contorts into a mix of confusion and well-intended concern.

"Why is she crying? What did you do to her?" Luke's voice brims with accusation, his words directed at his brother.. He takes a step forward, his intent to comfort you clear in his movement. You instinctively shuffle backwards, creating a protective distance, your arms loosely crossing over your chest.

Jack scoffs, disbelief etched across his features. "I didn't do anything," he retorts, his tone dripping with emphasis on the word 'I,' subtly implying that Luke is the source of your distress.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Luke's words slice through the air, laced with an unmistakable edge. His face tinges with a reddish hue as his gaze drills into Jack.

Again, would love to give you a bigger excerpt, but I hate everything else of what I've written LMAO. Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

quinn hughes x darcy sorokin (black fem!oc)

Basically a quinn x single mom au. May rewrite this entire thing. Also, started this months ago and loved the name Sunny for the kid (Sunny Sorokin) (no relation to the hockey player) but now I kind of hate it :)

Quinn became utterly enamored with her the moment his gaze met hers in the diner. She was a delightful surprise, replacing his usual waiter, Johnny, to collect his order. Her dark skin seemed to radiate a subtle glow under the dim diner lights, and her curly hair was artfully gathered in a loose bun resting at the back of her neck, adorned with a floral bandana draped over it. When she smiled, her dimples and the slight gap between her front teeth only added to her charm, leaving Quinn captivated and unable to shake thoughts of her for days.

Quinn stumbled upon Alma’s, the quaint diner, during his rookie year in Vancouver. Its unassuming atmosphere, a hidden gem tucked away, immediately resonated with him, providing a sense of ease. Combine that with the staff’s familial treatment, and he easily became a regular patron. Now, however, his visits weren’t just about unwinding and savoring a meal; he hoped to encounter the beautiful waitress he had learned was named Darcy (not through inquiry, but thanks to her name tag — he was too anxious to ask). Quinn relished any excuse to come to the diner, whether to be served by Darcy or simply steal glances at her when she wasn’t looking.

Quinn’s attempts to discreetly observe Darcy didn’t go unnoticed. She could sense the weight of his gaze, subtly tracking her movements around the diner. Intrigued and slightly puzzled by his behavior, Darcy decided to approach her co-worker, Johnny, to inquire about this regular customer. Johnny, with his wealth of experience at the diner, shared that Quinn was a nice guy who had been a faithful patron for years. He detailed Quinn’s routine of ordering the same breakfast every morning—soft scrambled eggs on wheat—followed by prolonged disappearances, especially during the summer months. Armed with this newfound knowledge, Darcy’s curiosity about the handsome and somewhat mysterious customer deepened. 

Darcy couldn’t deny the undeniable attractiveness of the man. His chestnut brown hair, steadily growing out since their first encounter, months ago, often required his attention as he habitually moved it out of his line of sight. His eyes, a deep brown that occasionally hinted at hazel in the early morning light. The way his teeth grazed over his bottom lip during conversation, though she was unsure if it was born out of nervousness or mere habit. Following the tumultuous chapter with her ex-boyfriend, after nearly five years, another man had finally found a place in her thoughts.

She harbored these thoughts secretly, keeping them locked away from anyone but herself. With her son, Sunny, now five years old, she couldn’t afford to be hasty. Sunny, more aware of his surroundings, comprehended things with greater clarity. She had already delicately explained the departure of his father, her ex-boyfriend, wanting to shield him from the unnecessary pain of the wondering, not knowing. And despite yearnings for companionship, she held the burden of guilt for Sunny’s lack of a father figure, and understood the importance of not rushing into a relationship that wasn’t genuine. Both she and Sunny deserved better, and she was determined to prioritize their well-being.

Let me know if you have any thoughts.

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader

Quinn and Reader go to their favorite diner late after a game. Probably lots of fluff, reminiscing. Possibly out of character Quinn, not too sure if he'd be into pda in front of the wags LOL.

Hovering in the distant corner, your fingers nervously toyed with the security pass draped around your neck, its edge resting just above the waistline of your jeans. A cluster of other wives and girlfriends lingered in the same vicinity, engaged in casual banter among themselves. You offered polite smiles, but there was no effort on their part to include you, nor did you make any overtures to join their conversation.

At last, you caught sight of a familiar mop of brown hair making its way down the hallway. The impulse to sprint towards him, leap into his arms, and plant an immediate kiss on his lips surged within you. However, with watchful eyes fixed on you, you opted for a more restrained approach, contenting yourself with a gentle caress of your hand against his right bicep. "Great game, Quinn."

A puzzled expression settles on his face, seemingly oblivious to the attention directed your way, or perhaps indifferent to it. His calloused hands find their place on your waist, guiding you closer as he dips his head low to meet your lips. Your fingers intertwine around his neck, and as his towering figure elevates you slightly off the ground, he murmurs, "Thank you, baby."

An orchestra of 'awws' surrounds you, a symphony of approval that bathes your cheeks in warmth. Quinn, charmed by your bashful response, lets out a chuckle, drawing you back into the protective embrace of his side. As he ushers both of you towards the back door, he bids the women farewell with a casual, "Goodnight, ladies," leaving the echo of their admiration suspended in the air.

"Goodbye, Quinn!" Their voices lingered with a touch of wistful admiration. You couldn't help but notice the collective enchantment Quinn seemed to cast on them. It wasn't entirely surprising—your boyfriend possessed a magnetic blend of boyish charm and dorky allure that had a way of rendering anyone weak in the knees. Since being crowned captain and amassing a string of victories, his newfound confidence only added to his undeniable sex appeal.

The night air nips at the exposed skin, coaxing you to cling closer to Quinn's comforting frame. As you approach the car, the two of you reluctantly break apart. "Do you want me to drive?" Quinn shakes his head with an easy smile, planting a tender kiss on your forehead before courteously opening the passenger side door for you.

You smoothly slide into the car, and Quinn secures the door behind you. With a jog to the driver's side, he swiftly settles into the seat, key in the ignition. Your hand instinctively reaches for the heat controls, but Quinn, ever attentive, beats you to it. After ensuring your seatbelt is on, he rests his hand on your thigh, the warmth of his touch contrasting the cool night air as he skillfully navigates out of the once bustling parking garage.

"Eddie's?" His voice dances just above the soft melody of the radio in the background. Tilting your head to the left, you catch his gaze for a fleeting moment before his focus returns to the road.

"Okay" You nod absentmindedly, a yawn escaping your lips as you lean your head against the window of the car.

He peers at you once more, skepticism lingering in his gaze. "Are you sure? We can just call it a night and head home if you're tired."

Your hand descends onto his, offering a reassuring squeeze. Fatigue clings to you, but the knowledge that he's hungry and wouldn't eat if you went home propels you forward. "I want to go out with you, Quinn."

A grin overtakes his lips, and he brings your hand up to his mouth, peppering a kiss against your palm.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

dawson mercer x juniper hughes (fem!oc) (luke's twin)

Remember last halloween when I floated around the idea of dawson x hughes sister. I started it, barely a sliver into the universe. I also know very little about dawson other than I think he's an absolute cutie pie, so I'll have to do some research for this series for sure. Will deal with heavy topics such as alcoholism, addiction, etc, so if that is triggering for you, this may not be the series for you, please take care of yourself, love you.

Juniper Hughes was no stranger to the judgmental eyes. They seemed to trail her everywhere she went, the invisible weight of societal expectations bearing down on her, reminding her both of who her family was and who she wasn't. While her brothers excelled as perfect, professional athletes, following in her parents' footsteps, she had been on a different journey—one of recovery from alcoholism after her expulsion from school due to underage drinking.

Twelve long years of arduous study, relentless commitment to extracurricular activities, unending string of tests, and the suffocating pressure of expectations—Juniper endured it all. Only one fateful night was enough to strip away everything she'd worked for. In the blink of an eye, her scholarship to Brown University was lost, her only friend torn from her, and her dignity shattered into pieces. The ruthless media, once her cheerleaders, rapidly transformed into her tormentors, subjecting her to a public shaming campaign for her mistakes, constantly drawing odious comparisons with her accomplished brothers. The intrusive question hung heavily in the air, echoing endlessly: where had her parents gone wrong with her?

Why was she so deeply flawed while her brothers seemed to glide through life unburdened? Why couldn't she manage a regular relationship-whether it was with alcohol, food, or people, but they could? Juniper's life had always been marked by relentless effort, a result of sheer necessity. Unlike her brothers, nothing seemed to come naturally to her—school, sports, it all required double the hard work just to lag two steps behind them. Alcohol served as her escape, a means to shed the heavy cloak of perfectionism that enveloped her. It provided release, a fleeting respite from her self-imposed pressures. Juniper enjoyed the person she became when she drank, but the mornings after, the ensuing guilt and repercussions, they ruined her.

"Cleaned out the guest bedroom for you, Twinny," Luke's voice is gentle as he opens the bedroom door, ushering you inside. Juniper offers him a nod, accompanied by a faint smile, and steps into the room. It's devoid of any distinctive character, featuring only four white walls, a simple bed, and a closet. As she walks around, she can't help but grimace, the stark emptiness of the room triggering memories of your time in the rehab center.

Juniper gracefully lowers herself onto the edge of the bed, her fingers delicately tracing the intricate designs on the black and white duvet. Luke and Jack linger in the doorway, observing her with wordless, almost reverent gazes, as if any sound might shatter the fragile stillness of the room. She clears her throat, then turns her gaze toward her brothers. "Thanks."

While this fic will deal with heavy topics, I don't want this entire series to be super depressing, so I'll try and add equal amounts fluff!!

———

jack hughes x fem!reader

Part of the Bless the Broken Road series. Jack gets the kids up and takes them to school for the first time without readers help. Super fluffy. Might completely rewrite it, though.

"Hey, wake up." Y/N shakes Jack awake, her hand pressing into his shoulder as she takes a seat on the edge of the bed next to him.

Jack groans, stirring in his sleep, his eyes squinting open to meet her chocolate brown gaze.

"Remember, school starts at 8, kids need to be up by 7, and you need to be out the door no later than 7:45."

Y/N leaned down to plant a tender kiss on his forehead before straightening up. With grace, she retrieved her phone from the dresser and picked up her coat hanging from the back of the door. "Yeah, I know, I got it, baby," he dismissed, though when Y/N glanced back at him, his eyelids had drooped shut once more.

She flicks his cheek. "Don't fall back asleep!"

She was well aware of Jack's exhaustion, considering he had a late game last night that went into overtime. However, she had a scheduled meeting with a contractor at the bakery early in the morning, which meant Jack had to shoulder the responsibility of taking the twins to school.

Smacking her finger away, he forced his eyes open once more and sat up, leaning against the headboard. "I'm up." He rasps, "now go before you're late."

She gives him a knowing look, shaking her head. "Call me if you need anything."

"We'll be fine." He assures.

Things were definitely not fine. Jack couldn't pinpoint when or how it happened, but at some indeterminate moment, he'd drifted back into sleep, only to be roused by a gentle poking on his forehead and a soft voice by his side. He blinked his eyes open, finding his youngest son, Adler, right in front of him, his lips curved into a pout.

"Where's mommy?" Adler asks.

Jack's eyes shoot wide open, and he promptly sits up, his gaze fixed on the alarm clock perched atop the dresser, which displayed the time as 7:36. With a swift hand running through his tousled brown hair, he mutters a curse under his breath. Adler instinctively takes a step back as Jack moves abruptly, his tiny hands fidgeting nervously, forming knots of unease in front of him.

Exhaling a deep breath, Jack pushed off the covers, swinging his feet to the right side of the bed. He gently grasps Adler's shoulders, using one hand to push stray curls out of his eye line, his voice soft and reassuring. "Mommy had to go to work early today,"

Adler nods. "So no school today?"

Jack shakes his head. "I'm gonna take you. Will you wake up your brother for me, please?"

He nods, and Jack breaks into a grin, pulling Adler into a tight hug. With a gentle lift, Jack stands up, eliciting gleeful giggles from Adler as he spins them around in a circle. The sound of the child's laughter fills the quiet stillness of the house, prompting laughter of Jack's own. Setting Adler back down, the boy immediately dashes off, sprinting back to his bedroom.

———

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

jack hughes x fem!reader (ex-situationship to lovers??)

Months ago, when Jack had insisted that you attend your first hockey game when the season started, he had presented you with one of his jerseys. It had ended up tucked away in the back of your closet, gathering dust and fading into oblivion. In fact, you'd nearly forgotten about it altogether. However, the morning after your conversation with Luke, a sudden thought about what to wear to the game had crossed your mind. You were certain of one thing: you had no intention of donning Jack's jersey. You did briefly consider asking Luke for one, but that would have been counterproductive since he shared the same last name as him. Instead, you were determined to indulge in a little pettiness.

On that particular day, you impulsively ordered a Red Wings jersey from eBay. It happened to be Moritz Seider's jersey, though you didn't really know much about him, or whether he was still actively playing or not. Frankly, you didn't care. You had no intention of cheering for the Red Wings, you simply saw the purchase as a final "fuck you" to Jack Hughes.

Reader and Jack "breakup" and so she wears a different jersey to a game to spite him. Jack gets jealous, yada yada you can probably guess the vibes.

———

trevor zegras x fem!reader (bookstore owner)

Trevor comes into readers bookshop a couple times a week, begging to take her out on a date. Might turn into a 3 times he asked and the 1 time she said yes type thing. Not sure!

"Go on a date with me." Your gaze transitions from the non-fiction books that you were presently shelving to the tall blonde on your right. He regards you with eager anticipation, awaiting your response, although it seems to be no different from all the previous rejections you've given him.

"Don't you have anything more productive to do than pester me while I'm trying to work?" Your voice carries a tinge of irritation as you descend from the small stepladder.

He offers a nonchalant shrug, feigning innocence with an expression of mock sincerity. "Just one date."

You push your way past him, making contact with his side as you stride back toward the front desk. He tails you, mirroring your movements like a lost puppy, eventually leaning his elbows casually on the tall counter, opposite to where you take a seat behind it.

"Why must you deny this obvious chemistry?" He's teasing, his face leaning on his hand as he looks intently at you. You let out a huff of laughter, settling into the spinny chair.

"Does rejection get you off or something?"

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

luke hughes x fem!reader

Reader broke up with Luke months ago, and doesn't expect to see him again, but she does, and he wants answers. Angsty, but will probably have a happy ending.

You tried your best to move on from him, putting in every ounce of effort you could to try and forget him. You threw yourself into your work, deliberately steered clear of the songs that held his memory, and even canceled your ESPN Plus subscription to shield yourself from the overpowering sadness that welled up whenever you saw him on the ice.

You weren't angry with him; anger had no place in your heart. After all, you were the one who had made the difficult decision to end things with him. You had asked him to leave your apartment as he struggled through sobs, his voice filled with desperation, seeking answers about what had led to the dissolution of your relationship. And despite the tears brimming in your own eyes, you didn't break down, standing your ground as he tried to challenge your conclusion.

Your sadness clung to you like a relentless shadow, casting a long and persistent gloom over your life for months. The vibrant and extroverted girl you once were seemed like a distant memory as you found solace in the confines of your home. Days passed in mechanical, robotic-like motions, each one blending into the next in a monotonous blur. Even the cheerful banter and laughter of your co-workers, which once provided a semblance of happiness, now felt like distant echoes in the cavernous emptiness of your heart. And nights were spent curled up on the couch, lost in the embrace of comforting films from your childhood, each frame a desperate attempt to escape the crushing loneliness that had become your all-encompassing reality.

You were aware it wasn't healthy, and though that knowledge weighed on you like a heavy anchor, you made no effort to climb up to the surface for air. The relentless ache in your chest, filled with sorrow and regret over losing the boy you had loved so deeply, was like a suffocating fog, clouding your vision at every turn. You couldn't go anywhere without being haunted by phantom images of him, his presence lingering like a stubborn ghost in the back of your mind.

It only got worse in the weeks leading up to the Devils vs. Red Wings game. You were aware that he would be in town, and that knowledge sent you spiraling into self-pity and uncertainty. You had deliberately steered clear of any rumors about his dating life, but your mind couldn't help but obsessively wonder whether he still missed you. Whether he mourned the loss of your relationship, or had moved on to someone better – a fear that had haunted you ever since he moved to Jersey even before the breakup.

It's a rainy Tuesday night, and you impassively make your way to Walmart with one single purpose in mind: to purchase alcohol and junk food. Your plan was simple – to watch the game and numb your sorrows with alcohol. You were fully aware of how pathetic it might seem, but at that moment, you simply don't care.

You stretch up onto your tiptoes, straining to reach a tall bottle of merlot perched on the top shelf, your shopping basket hanging from the crook of your elbow. In your haste to secure your wine, a sudden, sharp pain pierces your sternum. Your grip falters, and the basket slips from your grasp, clattering to the floor with an ear-splitting thud. One hand flies to your chest, your fingers resting on your heartbeat that pounded wildly against the thin fabric of your shirt. Disoriented, you stumble backward, the voice of a concerned stranger echoing in the distance as your vision blurs and darkness encroaches.

Let me know if you have any thoughts.

———

jack hughes x fem!reader

Jack spends the night at Readers apartment for the first time, and asks her to move in with him. Probably would be a short blurb, maybe 1k-1.5k words and under.

"You live in this building?" Jack inquires, his gaze sweeping over the aging building, a typical five-story apartment complex in dire need of renovation. You nod at him, shutting the passenger-side door as you step out.

"Is this area safe?" He inquires, his eyes lingering hesitantly on the parking lot.

You were roughly forty minutes from Jack's neighborhood, and while this area was a bit rundown and perhaps less safe, you thankfully had never encountered any issues.

"Uh, yeah," you respond, taking Jack's hand and leading him toward the entrance. After a moment of rummaging in your bag, you locate the key to the building, insert it into the lock, and swing the door open. Jack grabs the door, gesturing for you to enter first.

Your building lacked an elevator, so you faced a long climb to the fifth floor, where apartment 48B awaited.

As you unlocked the door, you visually cringed at the chaotic scene that greeted you. Clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor, dishes forming a precarious tower in the sink. You hadn't had a chance to tidy up before Jack insisted on spending the weekend in your modest abode. And although you hesitated, knowing your apartment was far from perfect, you couldn't resist any longer. You two had been dating for about a month, and he had yet to see where you lived. He'd casually mentioned it a few times, so you knew it was time to swallow your pride and invite him over.

"Sorry bout' the mess." You apologize, nearly tripping over yourself to grab a pile of clothes off the floor.

Jack runs his hand across the wall to his right, his fingers tracing the scattered nail gun holes. "What the hell happened to the wall?" he asks, furrowing his brows in concern.

You pause in your cleaning, turning to face him. "Oh, the neighbors like to get drunk and play with their nail gun. Don't stand too close." you warn, shaking your head.

———

quinn hughes x pharmacist!femreader

Nothing started for this, but my time working in a retail pharmacy has me obsessed with writing this pairing. Might make her an OC, though. I love the idea of a badass working woman who doesn't put her life on hold just because she's married to a hockey player.

———

If you're wondering about the status of Never Have I Ever, I'm gonna be honest, I may discontinue that 🫣. Sorry! I just have no motivation to write out that storyline now, but maybe sometime in the future I will.

author's note part two: Obviously this isn't all of my wips, only some, and most haven't been edited at all and a very rough drafts, but I wanted to give you a glimpse of what I have sitting in my drafts. I also have a lot of things in my inbox that I want to get written, but I have been slacking (clearly). I also wanna do some song fics because I've never done one and think that could be cool. Again, if you have any thoughts, don't hesitate to let me know.

[missmaywemeetagain]

Miles to Go Before I Sleep--a Scarf Exclusive 🌺💙🧣

A ✨minor miracle✨ happened, and I was able to finally write something somewhat cohesive for the first time in what feels like forever...

if you want to check out this Aloha from Hawaii themed Pink Scarf Universe story, join us HERE on Patreon! 🎉

(I'm hoping to have enough energy/inspiration after 5 weeks of illness to write something for everyone soon!💕)

(and thanks to @be-my-ally for the Pinterest collage tips!! 💋)

TW: references to period-related health, diet/ED, and drug issues, mentions of Dr. Nick, passing mention of Jack, Elvis' temper and how that brings up some things for Reader, cussing, baby talk, and of course a smidge of smutty smut 💋

Sneak Peek:

Very early morning, January 14th, 1973

This is bad, you think, buzzing with worry.

When you arrive in the dressing room, your heart pounds erratically in your chest, and not just from the massive, ground-breaking concert you just performed in or the roaring crowd in the arena. No, it’s when you look at your husband and see he’s looking through you, not at you. To be fair, he is distracted by the towel lobbed over his shoulders and the Mafia circling him with congratulations and pats on the back. Telling yourself that’s all it is, you snake your way through the guys and to his side.

“Elvis. Elvis, honey?” you whisper at him, trying not to yank on his bejeweled American Eagle suit with too much force. It was already heavy enough before he spent a few hours sweating in it, and now you guess it’s ten pounds heavier by the way it sticks to him and weighs him down.

“Hmmm?” he murmurs back at you, then finally seems to register your presence. “Oh, here’s my girl.” He squeezes you into his side and for the slightest moment you feel reassured, but the hug feels superficial and weak compared to how he once embraced you so tight you thought he’d never let you go.

He’s usually wired and riding high after a performance by this point. Instead, he seems exhausted and uncharacteristically out of it.

The itch inside you to pull him away and ask if he’s okay is so strong it makes your fingers tingle. You know doing such a thing now could perhaps hurt his ego, so you bite your tongue for the moment. But the way he lets you go and seemingly brushes you off has you grinding your teeth.

Stepping away, you tear off your own suit jacket, throwing it over a chair back and roasting from the inside out, even though it’s monumentally cooler in here than it was under all those lights on stage. Worry and brewing anger will do that.

The guys are sycophantically praising Elvis’ performance, and he nods along, not quite absorbing the words based on his blank expression. Perhaps you are just exhausted yourself because usually you would be singing his praises, too, but you know deep down it wasn’t his best show and that there is something fundamentally off about him.

He sinks down onto the sofa and a sense of relief washes through you. But you still feel on guard and uneasy. Maybe it’s the way Dr. Nick lingers in the corner, talking to Joe...

Click HERE to join and read the rest on Patreon! 🎉

Taglist Pt 1

@eliseinmemphis@russian-soft-bitch@tattywood

@sassanoe@thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle@carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23

 @littlebitofgreen@paigevis@bugg06@xhannahbananax03@artlover8992

@18lkpeters@frozenhuntress67@girlblogger2002@kendralavon7@misspresley

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

 @precious-lil-scoundrel @stylespresleyhearted @prompted-wordsmith @crash-and-cure @elvisgf @lookingforrainbows @fic-over-cannon @godlypresley @ab4eva @whatstruthgottodowithit @elvisabutler @amydarcimarie@idontwanttoputanything @callieselvisobsessed @captainamerica1235-blog  @xenaspace3-blog 

@simplyamberj@claire-elvisgirl@everythingelvispresley@louisejoy86@deniseinmn @madelynpresley

[racefortheironthrone]

Okay, so the next time Marvel retools its continuity, Steve Rogers has to be né Stephen Rothkowitz, son of Russian Jewish immigrants on the LES, right?

That's a very interesting question!

The first thing I'd note is that Marvel doesn't really retool its continuity per se, that's more of a D.C thing. Indeed, Marvel kind of takes pride in the fact that the main continuity of the 616 has never been formally rebooted, that while the plates may have wobbled from time to time they've managed to keep them spinning since 1961.

Leaving aside that bit of pedantry, I think the question of whether or not to have Steve Rogers be retconned as Jewish is a very interesting one - and I think it ultimately comes down to what kind of message or theme one is trying to convey through comics. When Siegel and Shuster decided to bolt a Moses allegory onto their reclamation of the Nietzschean Ubermensch, that was a statement to the Nazis of the world: the ubermensch was a Jew.

As I've said before, Jack Kirby and Joe Simon were on to something a bit more complex than Superman when it came to Steve Rogers. To quote myself:

In a deliberate thumb in the eye to Hitler’s racial science, Steve Rogers is turned from a malnourished working-class intellectual into the very image of the Aryan Superman Hitler fetishized by a Jewish refugee scientist – alternately named Joseph Reinstein or Abraham Erskine – who is then gunned down by a Nazi agent.[3]

Pre-serum Steve Rogers stands in for many things that Hitler hated and wanted to purge from society - he's the "degenerate" "cosmopolitan" artist/intellectual, he's physically disabled and absolutely would be labeled as "undesirable" under the "Law for the Prevention of Hereditarily Diseased Offspring," he's a working-class premature anti-fascist (i.e, he's a "red"), he's a second-generation immigrant from the Lower East Side - so the question naturally arises, is he also a Jew?

I think it's a bit complicated. Certainly, as I've written about before, subtextual Judaism is all over Steve Rogers' origin story. In addition to the immigrant LES backstory, there's also the fact that Rogers' transformation into Captain America is absolutely depicted as the work of Jewish emigre science. To quote myself again:

So in 1941, when Jack Kirby and Joe Simon introduced us to Captain America and the name of the scientist who gave him his powers was Professor Reinstein at a time when the most famous Jewish emigre scientist in the world was Albert Einstein, the subtext was clear: Captain America’s serum is the result of Jewish emigre science, here to save us from the threat of Nazism. And while it’s changed somewhat in the last 60-70 years, the fact that the 2011 film has Doctor Abraham Erskine be both a scientist and a quasi-rabbinical figure, the subtext is still there.

I think there's something very deliberate in Kirby and Simon's choice to have Steve Rogers be transformed into a blond-haired, blue-eyed ubermensch, the very ideal of Nazi eugenics but one absolutely dedicated to a political ideology that's anathema to Nazism. In that context, it might be argued that having Steve Rogers be Catholic rather than Jewish might be a useful part of the analogy rather than just subtextual cover - he's the Popular Front cross-ethnic coalition, he's the example of righteousness among the goyim to inspire other goyim to take up the cause of anti-Nazism.

There's also a reading of the text that both points to the subtextual Judaism of Rogers' origin but also why Rogers is in Judaism but not of it - the rather common reading that Captain America is a golem. As I've said, Reinstein/Erskine is a quasi-Rabbinical figure, endowed both with higher learning (the super-science formula that is lost with his murder so that there is only one Captain America) and moral authority, who creates an incorruptible force for good to defend America and its Jewish commuunity from the evils of Nazism.

As Captain America, Rogers bears a letter A on his forehead that is analogous to the Hebrew letter א that plays a crucial role in the tale of the golem. At the same time, not everyone agrees with this reading, so it shouldn't be taken as a given.

After all, Steve Rogers could also be argued to be Marvel's answer to the atomic bomb, a force of superhuman might capable of winning world wars - but one endowed with a moral intelligence and free will that the bomb lacked. (Incidentally, I was absolutely gagged that some Gen Z folks think that the Manhattan Project was something made up for the MCU, because it was mentioned in passing that Howard Stark worked on it. I can't wait till the kids find out about the Black Womb Project...)

Conclusion

At the end of the day, I don't know whether I would prefer Steve Rothkowitz to Steve Rogers - there is something indefinably different between the idea of Jewish resistance to a genocidal ideology directed specifically against them and the idea of a goyish neighbor, someone who grew up in the neighborhood and learned some Yiddish along the way but who wasn't exactly au courant with Rabbi Hillel, taking up arms in the cause because they've reasoned it's the only morally acceptable thing to do.