#I need like a scenario prompt generator

[sodacowboy]

having ocs is the worst like wdym I have to be the one to draw them and write about them

[phoenixyfriend]

Ko-fi prompt from @liberwolf:

Could you explain Tariff's , like who pays them and what they do to a country?

Well, I can definitely guess where this question is coming from.

Honestly, I was pretty excited to get this prompt, because it's one I can answer and was part of my studies focus in college. International business was my thing, and the issues of comparative advantage (along with Power Purchasing Parity) were one of the things I liked to explore.

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At their simplest, tariffs are an import tax. The United States has had tariffs as low as 5%, and at other times as high as 44% on most goods, such as during the Civil War. The purpose of a tariff is in two parts: generating revenue for the government, and protectionism.

Let's first explore how a tariff works. If you want to be confused, then you need to have never taken an economics class, and look at this graph:

(src)

So let's undo that confusion.

The simplest examples are raw or basic materials such as steel, cotton, or wine.

First, without tariffs:

Let us say that Country A and Country B both produce steel, and it is of similar quality, and in both cases cost $100 per unit. Transportation from one country to the other is $50/unit, so you can either buy domestically for $100, or internationally for $150. So you buy domestically.

Now, Country B discovers a new place to mine iron very easily, and so their cost for steel drops to $60/unit due to increased ease of access. Country A can either purchase domestically for $100, or internationally for $110 (incl. shipping), which is much more even. Still, it is more cost-effective to purchase domestically, and so Country A isn't worried.

Transportation technology is improved, dropping the shipping costs to $30/unit. A person from Country A can buy: Domestic: $100 International: $60+$30 = $90 Purchasing steel from Country B is now cheaper than purchasing it from Country A, regardless of where you live.

Citizens in Country A, in order to reduce costs for domestic construction, begin to purchase their steel from Country B. As a result, money flows from Country A to B, and the domestic steel industry in Country A begins to feel the strain as demand dwindles.

In this scenario, with no tariffs, Country A begins to rely on B for their steel, which causes a loss of jobs (steelworkers, miners), loss of infrastructure (closing of mines and factories), and an outflow of funds to another country. As a result, Country A sees itself as losing money to B, while also growing increasingly reliant on their trading partner for the crucial good that is steel. If something happens to drive up the price of B's steel again, like political upheaval or a natural disaster, it will be difficult to quickly ramp up the production of steel in Country A's domestic facilities again.

What if a tariff is introduced early?

Alternately, the dropping of complete costs for purchase of steel from Country B could be counteracted with tariffs. Let's say we do a 25% tariff on that steel. This tariff is placed on the value of the steel, not the end cost, so:

$60 + (0.25 x $60) + $30 = $105/unit

Suddenly, with the implementation of a 25% tariff on steel from Country B, the domestic market is once again competitive. People can still buy from Country B if they would like, but Country A is less worried about the potential impacts to the domestic market.

The above example is done in regards to a mature market that has not yet begun to dwindle. The infrastructure and labor is still present, and is being preemptively protected against possible loss of industry to purchasing abroad.

What happens if the tariff is not implemented until after the market has dwindled?

Let's say that the domestic market was not protected by the tariff until several decades on. Country A's domestic production, in response to increased purchasing from abroad, has dwindled to one third of what it was before the change in pricing incentivized purchase from B. Prices have, for the sake of keeping this example simple, remained at $100(A) and $60(B) in that time. However, transportation has likely become better, so transportation is down to $20, meaning that total cost for steel from B is $80, accelerating the turn from domestic steel to international.

So, what happens if you suddenly implement a tariff on international steel? Shall we say, 40%?

$60 + (0.4 x 60) + 20 = $104

It's more expensive to order from abroad! Wow! Let's purchase domestically instead, because these prices add up!

But the production is only a third of what it used to be, and domestic mines and factories for refining the iron into steel can't keep up. They're scaling, sure, but that takes time. Because demand is suddenly triple of the supply, the cost skyrockets, and so steel in Country A is now $150/unit! The price will hopefully come down eventually, as factories and mines get back in gear, but will the people setting prices let that happen?

So industries that have begun to rely on international steel, which had come to $80/unit prior to the tariff, are facing the sudden impact of a cost increase of at least $25/unit (B with tariff) or the demand-driven price increase of domestic (nearly double the pre-tariff cost of steel from B), which is an increase of at least 30% what they were paying prior to the tariff.

There are possible other aspects here, such as government subsidies to buoy the domestic steel industry until it catches back up, or possibly Country B eating some of the costs so that people still buy from them (selling for $50 instead of $60 to mitigate some of the price hike, and maintain a loyal customer base), but that's not a direct impact of the tariff.

Who pays for tariffs?

Ultimately, this is a tax on a product (as opposed to a tax on profits or capital themselves, which has other effects), which means the majority of the cost is passed on directly to the consume.

As I said, we could see the producers in Country B cut their costs a little bit to maintain a loyal customer base, but depending on their trade relationships with other countries, they are just as likely to stop trading with Country A altogether in order to focus on more profitable markets.

So why do we not put tariffs on everything?

Well... for that, we get into the question of production efficiency, or in this case, comparative advantage.

Let's say we have two small, neighboring countries, C and D, that have negligible transportation costs and similar industries. Both have extensive farmland, and both have a history of growing grapes for wine, and goats for wool. Country C is a little further north than D, so it has more rocky grasses that are good for goats, while D has more fertile plains that are good for growing grapes.

Let's say that they have an equal workforce of 500,000 of people. I'm going to say that 10,000 people working full time for a year is 1 unit of labor. So, Country C and Country D have between the 100 units of labor, and 50 each.

The cost of 1 unit of wool = the cost of 1 unit of wine

Country C, having better land for goats, can produce 4 units of wool for every unit of labor, and 2 units of wine for every unit of labor.

Meanwhile, Country D, having better land for grapes, can produce 2 units of wool per unit of labor, and 4 units of wine per unit of labor.

If they each devote exactly half their workforce to each product, then:

Country C: 100 units of wool, 50 units of wine Country D: 50 units of wool, 100 units of wine

Totaling 150 units of each product.

However, if each devotes all of their workforce to the product they're better at...

Country C: 200 units of wool, no wine Country D: no wool, 200 units of wine

and when they trade with each other, they each end up with 100 units of each product, which is a doubling of what their less-efficient labor would have resulted in!

The real world is obviously much more complicated, but in this example, we can see the pros of outsourcing some of your production to another country to focus on your own specialties.

Extreme examples of this IRL are countries where most of the economy rests on one product, such as middle-eastern petro-states that are now struggling to diversify their economies in order to not get left behind in the transition to green energy, or Taiwan's role as the world's primary producer of semiconductors being its 'silicon shield' against China.

Comparative advantage can be used well, such as our Unnamed Countries (that are definitely not the classic example of England and Portugal, with goats instead of sheep) up in the example. With each economy focusing on its specialty, there is a greater yield of both products, meaning a greater bounty for both countries.

However, should something happen to Country C up there, like an earthquake that kills half the goats, they are suddenly left with barely enough wool to clothe themselves, and nothing for Country D, which now has a surplus of wine and no wool.

So you do have to keep some domestic industry, because Bad Things Can Happen. And if we want to avoid the steel example of a collapse in the given industry, tariffs might be needed.

Are export tariffs a thing?

Yes, but they are much rarer, and can largely be defined as "oh my god, everyone please stop getting rid of this really important resource by selling it to foreigners for a big buck, we are depleting this crucial resource."

So what's the big confusion right now?

Donald Trump has, on a number of occasions, talked about 'making China pay' tariffs on the goods they import into the US. This has led to a belief that is not entirely unreasonable, that China would be the side paying the tariffs.

The view this statement engenders is that a tariff is a bit like paying a rental fee for a seller's table at an event: the producer or merchant pays the host (or landlord or what have you) a fee to sell their product on the premises. This could be a farmer's market, a renaissance faire, a comic book convention, whatever. If you want to sell at the event, you have to pay a fee to get a space to set up your table.

In the eyes of the people who listened to Trump, the tariff is that fee. China is paying the United States for access to the market.

And, technically, that's not entirely wrong. China is thus paying to enter the US market. It's just the money to pay that fee needs to come from somewhere, and like most taxes on goods, that fee comes from the consumer.

So... what now?

Well, a lot of smaller US companies that rely on cheap goods made in China are buying up non-perishables while they can, before the tariffs hit. Long-term, manufacturers in the US that rely on parts and tools manufactured in China are going to feel the squeeze once that frontloaded stock is depleted.

Some companies are large enough to take the hit on their own end, still selling at cheap rates to the consumer, because they can offset those costs with other parts of their empire... at least until smaller competitors are driven out of business, at which point they can start jacking up their prices since there are no options left. You may look at that and think, "huh, isn't that the modus operandi for Walmart and Amazon already?" and yes. It is. We are very much anticipating a 'rich get richer, poor go out of business' situation with these tariffs.

The tariffs will also impact larger companies, including non-US ones like Zara (Spanish) and H&M (Swedish), if they have a huge reliance on Chinese production to supply their huge market in the United States.

If you're interested in the repercussions that people expect from these proposed tariffs on Chinese goods, I'd suggest listening to or watching the November 8th, 2024 episode of Morning Brew Daily (I linked to YouTube, but it's also available on Spotify, Nebula, the Morning Brew website, and other podcast platforms).

[horny-marbles]

I would love to see your headcanons for who's the most to least likely to sub for their partner! Whatever characters of your choice <3

hii!! this was honestly so fun to write :P these lowkey are kind of like a scenario split into hcs, idk why but that's just how my brain decided to go about it lol.

they're in order from most to least likely to sub :P also the prompt i worked with as a base for these is basically the reader bringing it up to them while in a relationship. i found it worked better than just writing who would do it voluntarily (because they wouldn't i'm afraid 💀). also also, gn partner!

enjoy!! <3

Creepypasta Submissive Headcanons (NSFW)

CW: dom/sub dynamics, a bit of brat taming?, degradation, a bit of bondage, spit, orgasm control/edging, dubcon at the end, oral (giving and receiving for both the characters and the reader), slight mention of trauma but nothing explicit

BEN Drowned

모 sex with him is generally you centric because he's always geeked off that grass and uses that as an excuse to be lazy and lay back while you ride his face and use his dick—he gets off anyway, so might as well let you do the work under the pretense of "Yeah babe you can use me, empowerment or whatever."

모 so when you bring up domming him, he doesn't even think twice about it. goes into it thinking it's just regular sex but on steroids. not because he's blind to what it means—he's been inside the internet, he's seen shit—but because it's you. and what will you do.

모 there would be a tiny brat-dom dynamic by default because, yeah he's down for whatever you bring up, but he cannot take it fully seriously. kind of difficult to do that when you're baked like a pastry.

모 you want him to address you with a superior nickname? "yes ma'am/sir/master" but he's rolling his eyes and sporting a shit eating grin the entire time because he thinks it's comical.

모 you demand that he doesn't jerk off unless you tell him to? definitely does it when he's nose deep between your legs just to see what you do about it. "What?? It's muscle memory babe, don't pretend it's not hot."

모 genuinely huffing and puffing if you tied his hands behind his back and edged him as punishment. talking shit up until the point he's twitching and rutting in the air when you stop touching him. then it's:

"Holy shit, OKAY I'm sorry, fuck, I'm sorry, just— babe-master, I'm getting dick cramps, come on,"

모 refuses to beg for about 10 seconds total. the moment you tease him again, "Ohhh my fucking god, please fuck me, please, I can't take this anymore, PLEASE make me cum".

모 balls deep inside you and choking on mindless thanks, making these broken, indignant whines if you told him to slow down.

모 all in all, however, he would be into it more than he expected. it doesn't become default freaky time because he does not have that kind of energy, but when it happens again, he'd lay off the brattiness.

모 aftercare is basically non-existent. he doesn't need it, he would just spark up again and hop on the game, but if you felt like you needed it, it would be more quality time than cuddles.

Toby Rodgers

𓌏 he's lowkey a closeted switch disguised as a feral fuck machine so when you bring it up he gets lowkey defensive, he feels CLOCKED.

𓌏 "What, s-so I don't fuh-fuck you good? That it?" "Is this a con-control thing? You want a-an excuse t-to bully me?" full 7 stages of grief like huh?

𓌏 eventually agrees grudgingly which, in other words, means he was fiending for this shit forever but he never surpassed preteen emotional maturity. so, coming to terms with being bossed around was a project in erosion (thanks Slender).

𓌏 he's acting like a stray dog at first, defenses up so high that you have to break character and remind him it's still just you and if he doesn't like something he can just tell you. didn't even establish a safe word because you thought this was going to fail from the start.

𓌏 it takes approximately 5 minutes of you easing him into it with gentle authority assertion until he melts and starts begging, just like that. you're half-way into calling him a good boy for making eye contact when you asked, and he's already whining.

𓌏 you specifically avoid degradation because you don't wanna push it. however, "Are you gonna be a good boy and stay still while I suck you off?" is exactly the moment where the puzzle pieces fall into place for him.

𓌏 "Yes, I'll— f-fuck I'll be the b-best fucking slut f-for you, please," oh okay. i thought we were— alright??

𓌏 barely a decent slut for you, canNOT stay still, but he tries. kind of. hips thrusting up too excitedly, cockhead ramming so hard in the back of your throat that you basically feel the bruise forming in real time. "S-shit, fuck, I'm sorry— I-I'm sorry, it's a t-tic, please d-don't stop." lies.

𓌏 quickly discovers he likes begging with his mouth full. your fingers, your underwear, you, anything. choking on messy “pl-please, c’n I cum, I’ll be g-good, I swear", so needy you would confuse his pleas for the begging of his victims.

𓌏 hot take or not, slight mommy/daddy kink. obvious reasons.

𓌏 so obnoxiously loud when you start degrading him. "You're that much of a worthless mutt? You can't even take what I give you and you're expecting me to let you cum?" groaning, whining, eyes glassy and mouth snarling like he's in pain, voice cracking when you have a hand around his throat, or a foot on his chest.

𓌏 when you finally let him cum, he sobs actual tears. voice breaking and wheezing from how begging in guttural groans scratched his throat the entire time. spit dripping down his neck from the gash in his cheek. whole body convulsing and tics flaring up like crazy. you can barely even hear the thanks he whispers breathlessly.

𓌏 so quick to clean his cum out of you if you asked.

𓌏 aftercare consists of him completely limp on top of you while you detangle his sweaty hair, muttering little praises in his ear, which he petulantly grunts away like you didn't just reduce him to whimpering mush.

Eyeless Jack

⚉ he's a predator by nature, so subbing isn't exactly something that's ever crossed his mind. but the thing with Jack is, he doesn't just do relationships. if you're partners, you're really fucking special to him, and by proxy he would jump into it just because he's devoted. so, your answer would be a short, certain "...Alright."

⚉ he's surprisingly a very good sport about it. the second you put your hand on his chest and push him down, he goes easy. obedient. no passive aggressiveness, no brattiness, no "I could flip this on you so quick". he just watches you from where he's propped up on his elbows with this unreadable expression like he's waiting for you to take him apart and it doesn’t even bruise his pride.

⚉ doesn’t beg, doesn’t whimper, doesn’t plead. but the second you tell him to stay still and open his mouth, he does. you’ll straddle his chest and he just tilts his head back, mouth parting obediently, waiting for your fingers, your taste, anything.

⚉ he'll sit and take whatever you give him, answers everything with short, respectful answers like it's something sacred. "You like being used, big boy?" "Yes, ma'am/sir." the only sign he’s into it is how fucking hard he gets from just serving you.

⚉ at one point you slap his hand away when he tries to jerk off without permission and he just freezes. like a dog being told to stay. stares at you with wide sockets and says, “...Apologies.” voice low, like it’s actually sincere.

⚉ takes edging mostly unphased, only grunting when you stop to watch his leaking cock twitch helplessly on his stomach. the restraint is borderline terrifying. HOWEVER, by the 5th, 6th time, he's panting, thighs shaking, hips thrusting in the air purely out of instinct.

⚉ you tie his wrists behind his back just for fun, and the moment you straddle him, his whole body tenses like a loaded weapon. he doesn't dare move until you tell him to. when you finally lean back and put your hands on his knees for leverage while riding him—bouncing, relentless—he jerks his hands against the ties, teeth bared in a hiss.

⚉ doesn't need praise, didn't react to it the entire time, but the moment you start huffing out little "so big, so obedient, such a good fucking toy for me" while he's balls deep inside you, his chest ruptures with a growl.

⚉ the only real, shaken reaction you'll get out of him is when you give him permission to cum. chokes on a growl, snarls "yes, fuck yes, yes—" through gritted teeth and starts pistoning into you from below.

⚉ doesn't need aftercare, but he just lays there with you like he’s resting after a blood ritual. no words. no movement. you curl into him and he shifts just enough to wrap an arm around your waist. breathes in slow, reverent, like he’d let you kill him if you wanted.

Brian Thomas

☹ bringing it up to him in a conversation would go south quickly. sex with him generally feels impersonal and more like a vessel for frustration, regardless of how long you have been together. letting his guard down is off the table.

☹ unless you manage to sneak it into the rare instance where he's allowing himself to relax just enough to soften a bit. where he kisses you slowly while stroking your back under the covers and his body succumbs to your gentleness, instead of crashing his mouth into yours with clenched teeth and shoving his hand in your underwear like fucking you as urgently as possible would take the weight off his shoulders.

☹ starting slow would be the best course of action. gently guiding his face to the side to drag your lips down his neck, feeling him through his shirt while whispering into his skin. "Relax, let me take care of you", "Let me take these off, baby", "Lift your hips for me."

☹ looks at you with these wary eyes and parted lips like he's so torn. but he lets you. lets you undress him, lets you get on top of him to kiss down his chest, down his stomach. lets you lick up his shaft instead of grabbing your hair and guiding you to take him in your mouth right off the bat. even fights himself to keep still and not rush you when you start teasing him.

☹ "So good for me, baby" while stroking from the base up and licking around his tip? he whimpers. genuine, meek, like that's enough to crack him open.

☹ hands will eventually fly to your hair on instinct. you'll grab his wrists and set them down back at his sides, not forcing them down but just holding your hands over them to remind. he wouldn't squirm, but he would tense. and "be a good boy for me and i'll give you what you want, okay?" is enough to get him biting his lip and breathe harder.

☹ the more you give, the more he gives back like it's natural. you take him deeper, relax your throat and let his cock slide down slowly, he groans so deep you can barely hear the "fffuck yes, thank you," but it's there. small and new and unsure, but coming out without resistance.

☹ praise, for anything and everything, and he melts into a puddle of breathy moans and shaking thighs. "Look at you, you look so fucking good on your knees for me" and his eyes would roll back in a muffled whine.

☹ surprisingly self controlled when you tell him just how to fuck you, but he's panting in your ear like it's painful not to pound into you when you keep him moving slowly. "F-fuck, you're so tight, please, just a bit... just— let me fuck you proper, please."

☹ does NOT take edging easily. crumbling by the second time he starts getting close, bucking up into your hand and sweating bullets.

☹ looks damaged when you let him cum. eyes wide, brows pinched together tightly, mouth wide open and slack and nothing coming out, like you punched the air out of his lungs.

☹ aftercare is silent and sticky with tight hugs and noses buried in each other's shoulders. won't say it out loud in a million years, but it felt cathartic.

Tim Wright

⦻ takes a LOT of convincing, a lot of reasoning, you even almost resort to making a google slideshow for him. however, it's clear from the get go he's not fully opposed to it with the way he's smirking every time you start your "hear me out" rant. he just wants to watch you reason with him just to fuck with you a little. mind games™

��� agrees EVENTUALLY. and he's deceptively composed when he gets on his knees for you. deceptive little grin when you spread your legs and pull him in. something's wrong.

⦻ "Tim." "What?? I'm on my knees, no? Ain't you supposed to call me a good boy?" before he dives in with his entire mouth right away. latches on and sucks like he's trying to prove something.

⦻ "Hm? Easier? Should've specified." "Maybe you should get rougher with me so I listen. C'mon, you wanted this, do I have to teach you?"

⦻ you do get rougher. yank him off you by the hair, hold him there and jerk his head while you scold him. he just looks up at you with low eyes and a sharp, toothy grin, like he's completely unphased by the sting but loving you getting riled up.

⦻ makes a show of jacking off after you specifically demanded that he doesn't, moaning a little extra when you slap his hand off his dick. "Shit, yeah, punish me baby, I've been sooo bad. Maybe you should tie me up too."

⦻ ends up cuffed for maybe 5 minutes while you alternate between fisting his cock and slapping it, before he somehow he ends up out of the restraint—maybe he slipped his hands out because you didn't want to be cruel by tying them too tight and giving him rope burn on his wrists, maybe he just undid the knot while you were focused on keeping him on the edge. either way, you end up yanked on top of him mid "petulant fucking manwhore".

⦻ "Come on, is that it? You're giving up that easy?" gives you no chance whatsoever to stop him from shoving inside you from below. it quickly morphs into thrashing for who fucks who, half him sloppily thrusting into you, half you wrapping both hands around his neck and bouncing on his dick while snarling.

⦻ a mess of spit. yours in his mouth, his on your chest, wetting the sheets, somehow in your hair. he looks like he's thriving while you're genuinely frustrated that he flipped it on you.

⦻ "Tim, come on—!" "Come on? Oh, you want me to cum on you? Fuck, ain't you gonna make me beg for it first?" mockery on 100% even though his voice is shaking by the unforgiving way he just slams into you, just challenging you to keep talking, keep trying, keep failing.

⦻ ruined orgasm. you haul yourself up right when he's starting to grunt low and breathless in his throat, over and over like he does when he's close. actually gasps when he starts pulsating and throbbing angry spurts on his own stomach, cock spasming frustrated and his expression so shocked, like you were the traitor.

⦻ no aftercare, only because he's moping that it felt like shit. you're so proud, and underneath all that huffing and puffing, he is too. silently.

Jeff the Killer

꒷꒦ ...right.

꒷꒦ so, you bring it up to him one night, soft and careful and fully aware of how stupid of an idea this is. hands cold, eyes on the floor, voice so meek and shaky he actually goes "HUH?" 3 times before you actually spit it out.

"Have you, um... thought about, like... letting me be the one in charge...? Like, when we fuck?" instant regret.

꒷꒦ he barks at you. genuinely cackling, eyes bugging a little extra, like that was just so hilarious. you're already backpedaling because you know you should've just kept this in the vault and jerked off to it in private instead.

"You wanna dom me? Hilarious babe, fucking hysterical."

꒷꒦ flips it so fucking fast, you don't even have time to open your mouth before he's on you. hand on your throat so tight you can feel your pulse in your temples, eyes sharp and manic and pinning you down. "You wanna sit on my dick and boss me around? Are you out of your fucking mind, bitch?"

꒷꒦ shoves you down at his feet so you fall face down next to his shoes. yanks you up by the hair and slams his crotch into your face, keeping you there until you're clawing at his legs for air. fucks your throat raw like he's trying to shut you up forever, pinches your nose when you start choking as if to punish you for even conjuring up the thought of flipping the dynamic. "Dominant little whore can't take a fucking blowjob?"

꒷꒦ fucks you like he's correcting you, no prep, no lube (unless you count the spit from your mouth already on his dick). ass up, face pushed in the pillows by his foot on the back of your head.

꒷꒦ "You need to have the stupid fucked outta you? Huh? Say you're stupid. Say 'that was the stupidest shit I done ever said in my life'." "I'm— I'm sorry, I—" "Say it or I'll fucking beat it out of you."

꒷꒦ you do not bring it up again. or maybe you do.

[queeniewithabeanie]

Lady Gotham

Dpxdc Prompt #47

When Danny Fenton moved to Gotham for university the city noticed.

After all, before Lady Gotham was Gotham she was Samantha Manson.

It all started with the Nasty Burger explosion.

Mr. Lancer, Mrs. and Mr. Fenton, Jazz, Danny, Tucker, and Sam were all there. One moment, Danny was being confronted about cheating on his career aptitude test and the next all Sam could see was the familiar toxic green of the Ghost Zone.

Sam's first thought was did anyone survive? and her second was i need to find Danny.

She wasn't sure of the fate of anyone caught in the explosion, for all she knew she could've been the only one to die (unlikely), and if not that the only one to form into a ghost (sadly, plausible).

With worst case scenarios flooding her head, Sam began looking for anything familiar in the Zone. She'd never been without the infi-map before and now that she didn't have it she was lost.

She never had a chance of finding Danny because she fell into a portal after she'd barely begun searching.

When Sam became aware again, she found herself in a world similar to her home, but very different at the same time.

The times were different, this world barely in the 1700s. She was in a different location, somewhere in the northeast, but she couldn't tell exactly where yet. And most importantly, the world seemed more magical than the one she came from.

Of course, she tried to get home, but there were no natural portals opening up and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't make them herself.

After spending 20 years, more time than she had lived in her home dimension, in what had come to be named Gotham, Sam had settled down. She made friends with a family named the Waynes and though she would never forget Danny and Tucker she had an afterlife in this new dimension now too.

Sam protected the city best she could from anything that tried to harm it, making it her own haunt. Eventually the people around town started calling her The Lady of Gotham, later shortened to just Lady Gotham.

A century after joining the world, Sam was cursed and by extension Gotham was cursed too. She could no longer speak, and while she still tried her best to protect the city from outside harm there was nothing she could do about the corruption within.

She watched over the Waynes inside the limits of her haunt, them having become her family in this new world. And in return the Waynes tried to keep Gotham the best place it could be, attempting to keep it from becoming a cesspool.

Sam did her best, she did what she could and in return Gothamites had a certain pride in their city.

"It's terrible, but it's home" was the general sentiment shared by the citizens.

Soon enough the times were approaching to when she had been alive, and a new generation of Waynes emerged in her streets. When she failed to protect Martha and Thomas, Sam felt sorrow and let the shadows gather around Bruce to show him she was grieving too.

He left, but as many Gothamites did he came back. And when he came back it was with vengeance.

Her streets were more corrupt than they had ever been before, but Bruce came in like a knight in shining armor. No—not shining, but dark. Dark and jagged, but home and just as much a part of Gotham as Sam herself.

With Bruce becoming Batman, his partners weren't far behind. First Dick, then Babs, Jason, Tim, Steph, Cass, Damian, and Duke. And with so many Waynes, not in blood but in everything that mattered, trying to save her Sam felt more loved than ever before.

And then she felt a Danny Fenton, older than her's had ever gotten to be at 18-years-old, enter the streets. Sam, for the first time in forever, she longed for what could have been.

That night, the skies were clearer and the streets were quieter as Sam held on to Danny through the shadows and didn't let go.

Her knights wouldn't mind one more addition, she hoped.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi, I was wondering… could you write a scenario/one-shot with the player Player(Reader) where instead of the final battle with Doey we manage to calm him down and comfort him after Safe Haven was destroyed.

idk I just want to hug the Dough Boy

Ngl I had this one requested to me by like 5 people. So here's that much-needed fix it fic <3

.........

Hearing the distant screaming of who you could only assume was Doey, you rushed through the tunnel with a pounding heart.

You've never felt more terrified than you did right now.

Not long after killing the Doctor, the Prototype decided to make his move and lay waste to the Safe Haven. Ollie alerted you to the situation and told you how to repair the generator while Doey and the others fended off the outside threat.

Then you headed down to the foundation at Poppy's insistence, setting up the explosives you collected and eventually running into the doughman again within the caves.

He seemed utterly confused, having been chasing the Prototype away from Safe Haven...

Only to realize too little too late that was his intention all along..

An explosion suddenly rocked the sanctuary, prompting the two of you to rush back to see how bad the destruction was. It took you a while to get there considering your limitations as a human wearing a grabpack, so you could only imagine what Doey was seeing to make him scream that loudly.

When you finally made it through the infirmary, past a handful of Mini Smiling Critter corpses, your heart sunk into the pit of your stomach, horrified at the scene before you:

The decrepit yet colorful place the toys once found safety in...was totally reduced to rubble. Small fires burned all around you---and in the midst was a little Bobby Bearhug, who Doey was currently grieving over.

They might have been a nuisance to you in the playhouse, but these ones--the ones who refused to give into their savagery during the Hour of Joy--were innocent little souls. Doey had sworn to protect them over the years, keeping them sheltered from the outside..

And in an instant, they were gone.

All of them.

Because he wasn't there.

"I'm sorry...I'm so, so sorry." He choked out, seemingly unaware of your presence. "I failed you. I was never what any of you needed. I-I was only made to hurt things. My fault...my fault..." With a small sob, he brought his hands to his face.

You were utterly devastated, too.

How could this happen?

How could you let that damn machine trick you?

"Doey, I'm..." You stepped forward, only to freeze as he suddenly turned to you, now eerily silent.

The look in his big hollow eyes...was nothing short of pure anger.

"Hurt...everything hurts." He snarled, his nubby fingers balled up into fists. "Hurt back. ALWAYS hurt back. Parents. Scientists. Everyone! Have to-"

His body experienced a tremor, and he now looked utterly grief-striken once more, his voice now sounding depressed and weepy. "My friends! He killed my friends!" He sobbed, wiping at his tears.

At first you wondered what was going on with him, until you remembered the tapes and notes you've gathered throughout your journey--quite a handful discussed his time as an experiment and how he came to be, well, Doey.

Apparently the mad scientists here had the brilliant idea to take three children--boys to be precise--and blend them into one 900 pound pile of dough and bring it to life, thinking that nothing could possibly go wrong.

One of them, Kevin, had anger issues that drove him to become violent towards other children--even those who were his friends. The other was Matthew, who seemed to be the calmest and most mature, and the one you've most likely been talking to this whole time. Then there was Jack, a very young kid who fell into a dough mixer and was forced to become part of Doey as some "life-saving" measure.

Had it not been for the information you discovered, you never would've understood what was happening to the toy you've allied yourself with.

But now you realize he was unstable.

Because of the sheer trauma of Safe Haven's destruction.

"You. It all started with you." Doey pointed at you accusingly, Kevin dominating the conversation once more. "You and her...IT WAS YOU WHO RUINED EVERYTHING!!" He screamed.

"What?" Your eyes went wide, horrified that he'd blame you for all of this. "No, that's...you seriously think this was all my fault?! I had no idea this was going to happen!"

"LIAR!! You two led him to us." He growled. "You shouldn't have come back...NEVER SHOULD HAVE COME BACK!!"

His body wriggled once more, with Matthew trying his best to stay in control, afraid of what he'd might do. "No, no. That's not true. They jumpstarted the generator, they--" He smacked the side of his head, and he was lost again, Kevin's rage being too overbearing. "DESTROYED EVERYTHING!! I'LL KILL YOU!!!"

'No..no, no, no...' You panicked internally, slowly backing away as you saw sharp orange teeth starting to break through his mouth. 'Please, god..don't make me hurt another one...'

Why did this have to happen again?

You were so, so tired of having to fight.

After he saved you from Pianosaurus, made his sanctuary a home to you, and kept you smiling throughout your trip inside this hellhole....it was now going to come down to either you or him walking away alive?

In a blind rage, Doey's enlarged fist swung at a concrete pillar beside him, and as it crumbled....so did the ceiling above him that was barely supported by that single pillar.

Now nothing could stop the rubble from crashing down onto him--

Except for you and your quick thinking, using both grabpack hands to grip his arms and drag him towards you with all your might. Upon release, you jumped back as he fell to the ground, looking to see the massive pile of debris he would've been buried under.

It made you feel relieved, afraid of what might've become of him.

"You...why did you do that? You think that makes you a hero?!!"

Before you could blink, Doey suddenly had you in his grasp, holding you up high in the air with both hands, itching to crush you and eat you alive. "WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!!" His features began distorting, looking more reptilian in nature. "I said I'd kill you!! KILL EVERYONE WHO HURTS ME!!!"

For a brief moment, you thought you saw a few pairs of glowing red eyes within his widening mouth, but they quickly retreated--except for one angry-looking set.

Yet you stared at them, your resolve unwavering. "You're an idiot, you know that?"

"....what?" He was shocked by your cold answer, and that only fueled his outrage. "IDIOT?! I'M NOT THE IDIOT!! YOU'RE THE IDIOT!!!"

"Don't you get it?! This is exactly what the Prototype wants! He wants to see us fight and tear each other apart! Destroy whatever unity we had left!" You snapped, despite your voice trembling. "You think I wanted this to happen?! You think I wanted Poppy to drag me into this mess?!"

"......."

"I only came here because of a stupid note. From somebody I knew who claims they're still alive. But...they can't be. I was tricked by him. I tried to leave, but Poppy...she redirected the train that was my only way out of here, saying I'm "the only one" who can help her...but I never wanted that responsibility, Doey."

For once, "Kevin" remained silent, although he still had you in his clutches. But he looked surprised to hear that she took away your chance at escaping this place.

She never mentioned that to him.

She only said you came willingly..

"Something's not right with her. You know it. I know it. And I'm sure Kissy knows it even if she can't tell us. We've all felt used by her. To do the dirty work that somehow keeps bringing the Prototype closer to us."

"...you could have talked her out of it.." He finally responded. "Yet you...you went along with her plan anyway. YOU KILLED THEM!! KILLED MY FRIENDS!! Our friends.." Jack briefly returned, sniffling. "T-They thought you were good...they thought you were nice..I-I thought Poppy was, too."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I should have heard you out. I had no idea it was gonna lead to all of this. I swear to god..I didn't know.." You sighed shakily, hoping he'd be willing to listen to reason. "You have every right to blame me. But..we can't let them die in vain. The Doctor's gone, so all we have to do is get to him. But first...I need you to put me down."

"......"

"Please, Doey. I don't care if you hate me for this. I don't expect your forgiveness. Let's just....kill the Prototype..and you can do whatever you want to me afterwards. I'm tired of fighting people I've come to see as friends. I've got enough blood on my hands."

At first, it seemed like all your attempts at resolving this without violence were futile, as he was just breathing raggedly, like he were an animal who was too far gone.

But then you saw his features twitch, resembling what they were before. His eyes also had that familiar sad look to them, indicating Matthew had somehow regained full control--at least for the moment.

"I..." He sniffled, setting you down on the ground. "I'm sorry. We--I was just...so hurt by what happened. And....And I just looked for somebody to blame. I shouldn't have lashed out. I shouldn't have-"

"Hey, it's okay, Doey. I know you didn't mean it." You reassured him, happy he returned to his senses, before you turned around to see that same Mini-Bobby still laying on the floor, who somehow didn't get crushed by the rubble.

Without saying a word, you crouched down to pick up the little Smiling Critter, cradling her despite the blood. You saw a piece of playmat that managed to survive the explosion. Although it wasn't much, it was better than her laying on the ash-ridden concrete, so you decided to set her down on it.

Doey just looked on in silence, removing his hat as a show of respect, still mulling over his angry words and how he threatened your life.

There's no way you could have predicted the Prototype's next move.

Then, as though a miracle were sent from above...Mini-Bobby suddenly gasped, coming back to life.

Both of you were initially shocked, although you were quick to comfort her as she coughed a few times, smoking clogging her senses. "Hahh..gah..wh-what happened?" She hoarsely asked, seeing you two and the surrounding flames, before it all clicked. "The Safe Haven...it's..."

"I'm sorry. It's no more." You frowned a little, helping her sit up. "Go through that tunnel and stay quiet. I'll be there to retrieve you. Just keep yourself away from all this smoke."

She nodded managing to get up and limp towards the tunnel you came from.

Doey was astonished. "Bu....But I thought..she...."

"Looks like not everybody perished. There might be more survivors-" You turned back to face him.....only to get engulfed by his arms, and for a moment you thought Kevin returned and was about to crush you like a grape.

Until you heard loud sobbing and felt his entire body tremble, realizing it was Jack instead, and your relief returned.

"There, there, big guy." You hugged him back, smiling sadly. "You're okay. We're gonna get through this together. He'll pay for what he's done to our friends. I'll make sure of it."

"I-I don't wanna be here anymore..I just want mommy...a-and daddy..." He cried.

"I know. I don't wanna be here, either. We're gonna find a way out."

"...I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean to get so angry.."

"I know you didn't. I forgive you."

[deadsetobsessions]

AU List

Hello! Welcome! This is my attempt at keeping the AU's boiuncing around in my head in order. They should be mostly in chronological order.

Some of them are getting turned into full length fics! The list (and it's open to suggestions) can be found here: Fic List

A couple of things:

Please feel free to write your own fics based on any of these! No need to ask, simply link it so I can also read it <3

If you have any specific scenarios you have an idea for and would like me to write- my asks/prompts are always open! I can't guarantee quality as I do most of my writing at like, 3 AM but I'll try my best!

Please don't send me unsolicited prompts in my messages, as it stresses me out. Not because I don't want to do them, but because the prompts are not in the correct place (if that makes sense?) my brain is being (unironically) neurotic about it. Prompts sent to the asks are okay and will probably be fulfilled.

I don't condone racism, bigotry, homophobia, etc.. I do not welcome it here. I acknowledge that I have biases that I've yet to unlearn. If there's something that makes you feel unwelcome in the things I write, please let me know and I will fix it ASAP.

I write these mostly on little to no sleep (that’s when I get creative I guess?) so good luck.

Update: Apparently you can have too many links on one post (which was news to me) so the links are in the titles lol

Squatter!Danny Phantom Raises Tim

Tim 'self-preservation instinct of a wet paper bag' finds Danny Phantom squatting in his house as an injured vigilante and they immediately adopt each other.

Ghost King and the Justice League

Different scenarios where the Justice League (and extensions) deal with a Ghost King Danny Phantom, who generally just wants to get some sleep and avoid his paperwork like he avoids his problems- actively and indiscriminately.

Alcoholic! Danny Adopts Jason Todd (Fic)

Danny Phantom, a struggling alcoholic, finds his way into Gotham where he adopts a young Jason Todd... after accidentally making a name for himself, again.

Spider in Gotham (Fic)

Peter Parker found himself unceremoniously dumped into Gotham and merged with his younger, formerly dead, alternate self.

Gotham! Danny and His Bats

Different scenarios wherein which Danny Phantom is Gotham's city spirit and the task of wrangling Gotham's vigilante and villainous population is laid at his feet.

Danny in Gotham

Somehow, somewhen, Danny finds himself moving to Gotham. Other than the aesthetics, Danny finds it to be pretty similar to Amity Park's insanity.

Sea Cryptic!Danny Phantom

Danny Phantom cleans beaches in his off time. One day, he has to pick Batman (and his plane that was littered all over the ocean floor) out of the sea.

Danny Gets Yeeted (Yoted?) Into Gotham

Danny Phantom dented the Batmobile and got an adoption, vigilante siblings, and a gang of kids following him for his troubles/

Danielle "Dani/Ellie" Phantom

Danielle Phantom travelled to Gotham. Gotham encounters a wild Danny amidst its tall towers.

Timothy Drake-Centric

When Tim Drake is set on something, very little can stop him, With sub catergories : Reincarnated as Gamer! Timmy Drake (fem Tim)(Fic) and New Tim-line, Who Dis?

Reincarnated as Damian Wayne's Older Sister (Fic)

Based on a nightmare, an OC finds themself reincarnated as Damian Wayne's older sister. She does not have a good time.

Prompts Found

A collection of prompts found and filled. Includes Triplet Tim and Reverse Trope Prompt.

Misc. ficlets and thoughts

My brain vs. whatever errant thoughts and ideas that decided to pop up when I'm trying to sleep.

[grandline-fics]

Not My Job Description

DESCRIPTION: You’re Marine!Doffy’s long-suffering second in command

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 1,362

A/N: Saw some Marine! Doffy fan art and the brainworms took over. I regret nothing, I had to write something to get it out of my system in someway. Now I'm also thinking of other scenarios for Marine!Doffy and Second In Command! Reader. Title might change? Hope you all enjoy this rambling

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI

———————

You’d heard countless stories of the famous Donquixote siblings for as long as you’d joined the Marine Academy. The younger brother was rumoured to be highly skilled in infiltration missions, gentle and on the shy side. It just confused you to hear the higher ups praise the man for his exceptional work but also complain about the amount of expenses being filed on Rosinante’s behalf. Uniform repairs, entire ships that needed more maintenance than normal because of accidental explosions, fires, general accidents and breakages seemed to follow this brother wherever he went. 

The elder brother, Doflamingo? He was a liability to both the public and his fellow Marines as well as the pirates he was pursuing. Any destruction caused on his hand was entirely intentional. Had either of them been reprimanded you new knew, you doubted it given how as you climbed the ranks they too were already way ahead. Besides when they got results? Could the higher ups really argue with it. Part of you doubted either of them- Doflamingo especially- would take any criticism to heart. Truthfully the brothers had always left you curious, hoping to one day see them for yourselves. Careful what you wish for right?

The day you’d been given your promotion and told you were transferring to an entirely new base had been a strange one. You and your friends celebrated but those issuing the papers? They seemed hesitant, almost nervous. At first you’d assumed they weren’t happy you were moving to an entirely new location and didn’t want to lose you but then when one of them muttered a hollow ‘good luck’ it made you uneasy. Had it been said with ice or resentment in their voice you would have understood but now it only furthered your confusion. Because of the whirlwind of emotions, packing, saying your goodbyes and celebrating you hadn’t given your new transfer papers a proper read until you were on the ship. All you’d known before had was that you were given the rank of Captain and would be serving directly under a Vice-Admiral. Out on the open water you went to your quarters and grabbed the papers, pulling them out to finally see who it was. The shock had been so sharp that you had to blink rapidly a few times to ensure you weren’t misreading the name Vice-Admiral Doflamingo. Just like that your life was thrown sideways and you soon realised what those looks had meant but through it all you dealt with it even though most of the time you were only there to babysit the man who by all accounts was your superior.

At first you suspected he did it on purpose. Now you just truly believed he was hopeless at doing anything that wasn’t hunting down criminals and causing chaos. So on top of your own work, making sure Doflamingo was in some way in line and looking after himself fell to you. Even on your days off you found yourself having to tend to him in some capacity. It’d been some time since your transfer that you’d managed to get back home and according to Doflamingo you’d earned the time off so you took it, heading back to your hometown to visit friends and family.

You were roused rudely and suddenly from your sleep to the sound of your personal den-den mushi ringing. Disoriented you jolted awake and tried to force your heavy eyes open only to feel them sting in protest. With more effort than you’d wanted to exert so late at night you managed to crack your eyes open enough and fumble your hand and search clumsily in the dark. Your fingers knocked against the receiver and you let out a sleep-thick curse to hear it hit the floor. Rolling onto your side you managed to grip the cable connecting the lost receiver to the snail on your nightstand and pull it off the floor. With a long yawn you tucked the receiver securely beside your face and pillow. “‘Lo?”

“Don’t tell me you’re still in bed Captain…” the deep voice drifted to you with the signature chuckle you’d gone a few days without hearing. Only now did you realise how strange it was to have gone so long without it echoing from somewhere. 

“Vice-Admiral?” You mumbled in confusion. “It’s nighttime…Timezones remember?”

“Ah yes, yes. My mistake.” Doflamigo chuckled from his end. In the background you could hear the usual morning activity drifting from his open office window. 

“What do you need Vice-Admiral?” You question was sighed into the receiver and Doflamingo chuckled to hear how much effort it was taking for you to sound coherent enough for him to understand your sleepy words. 

“Who says I need anything?” Doflamingo asked kicking his feet up onto his desk surface, his polished shoes crumpling untouched files and reports. His question and the crisp sound irked you enough to waken slightly.

“You always need something.” You grumbled, pressing the back of your hand against your mouth to stifle a heavy yawn. “You also need to do your reports. ‘M not coming back to see your desk hidden by papers again.”

“So harsh to threaten me with not coming back.” Doflamingo tutted you. “Remember I know where you are, I’ll come get you myself.”

“Mhm.” You hummed softly, too tired to fully commit to acknowledging his threat. “Still have to do your paperwork. You still haven’t told me what you need.”

“My gloves.” Your eyebrow twitched slightly. “Not my usual ones, the spare ones.”

“What happened your usual ones?”

“Took them off for five minutes and Rosi managed to get them too when he set himself on fire.” Doflamingo explained, his grin growing when your sleepy laugh drifted through the air. 

“They were fraying anyway…” You told him gently, probably trying to ensure he wasn’t too mad at his clumsy little brother. “Spares are in your desk. Left hand side, second drawer. You were using them to hide that bottle of whisky you thought I didn’t know about.”

You listened to the muffled sound of the drawer sliding open and laugh, your own lips curving into a smug smile. Even half-asleep you were more aware of anything to do with Doflamingo.

“What would I do without you, Captain?”

“You’d manage.” You said with another yawn. “Everyone else would be devastated if I wasn’t there.”

“Good thing that’s purely hypothetical. You’re not going anywhere Captain.”

“Says the man who said I’d only last a week as your Captain…” You teased as yet another heavy yawn filled your chest. It was getting harder to stay awake, Doflamingo’s deep voice being a comfort to listen to. “How time’s changed…”

“I know, it’s been what two years now? We forgot to celebrate our anniversary!”

“We’ll share that whisky when I get back.”

“Deal.”

“But only if you have your reports done…” You warned with a small smile when you could hear Doflamingo scowl. “Need anything else, sir?”

“No, you can go back to sleep now.” Doflamingo grinned before suddenly realising there was something else. “Wait, what else am I forgetting?”

“Breakfast. You need to eat.” You mumbled, heavily lifting the receiver towards the snail. “Oh and Admiral Akainu’s visiting the base tomorrow. Night, night.” 

“Wait what?!” Doflamingo called after you only to see the call had ended. Quickly he pushed the papers out of the way on the desk to find the calendar you’d left for him. Sure enough tomorrow’s date was circled twice and your reminder of the visit written in your handwriting. Three days after that you’d noted would be your return. Quickly Doflamingo got to his feet and with strong purposeful strides he made his way outside. There was no way he was going to endure a boring visit on his own. There was also no way he was lasting the long wait until you got back. Unleashing his strings he pulled himself into the sky and disappeared from sight, ignoring his subordinates uselessly shouting after him. He was only going out for a quick fly was what he told himself but if he happened to stop by and see you then that was purely coincidence. 

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @sin-namonroll , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall , @redwolfxx , @jevoislesbrasdemer , @schanwow , @pao198391 , @glitchtricks94 , @nina-ya , @48daisies , @rosemary-lungs , @sagyunaro , @artemis162534 , @thecraftywriter , @rorozorolover

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reactions to your "let's break up" text prank

Request: Hello! I've been reading your stuff, and it's so good. I was wondering if I could request something? A while back, there was a prank on TikTok with girlfriends texting their boyfriends asking/telling them they wanted to break up. I was wondering if you could do Seventeen OT13 reactions to the same scenario? Let me know if this is okay! Thank you! :)

A/N: Ah, this took me longer to complete than I expected. Anyway, this is their reaction to the general, "Let's break up," text tiktok trend. I know it's a really common prompt, but I still wanted to try it out. The videos the anon later sent me of the trend for the request (because I hadn’t seen before) actually had a twist, like, "What do we do when we break up," or, "When we break up, ___." These felt a bit different from the straightforward, "Let's break up," so I’ll be writing that version as well. I really want these to meet your expectations, anon, as well as for everyone else reading. So, if this isn’t quite what you were hoping for, please stay tuned for my next reaction post—it’ll be up soon. Until then, I hope you enjoy this one!

For the sake of the reaction, OT13 are not physically with their s/o at the moment.

Content: Suggestive in some members (Joshua, Mingyu, Minghao and Dino) MDNI!, angst if you squint, other than these I think it's cute heheh

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

Seungcheol: At first, he thinks you're joking, but the tone of your message makes him pause. He’s a natural leader who reads between the lines, so your message would raise a red flag. He’d immediately call you instead of texting back.

"What’s going on? Is this a joke, or are you serious?", "If something’s wrong, we need to talk about it, not text about it." If you stay silent to keep the prank going, he’d start to worry. “Listen, if you’re upset or unsure about us, we should talk in person. Breaking up over text isn’t like you.”

When you finally admit it’s a prank, you’d hear a heavy sigh of relief on the other end of the line. “You had me thinking about where I went wrong. Don’t mess with me like that, okay?” He’d pout and demand extra cuddles, peppered with kisses as apology payments, but it’s not long before he uses this prank against you, teasing about how you can’t live without him.

Jeonghan: He sees right through it. Jeonghan is the master of mind games, he knows exactly how to flip the script. When he reads your breakup text, he’d smirk to himself and reply with something like,

"Oh no, how will I ever survive without you? 🙄"

Or,

“Shit, what did I do? Let me grab my tissues and cry in public.”

If you double down, insisting it's serious, he might add a touch of fake sincerity just to keep you on edge,

“Alright, if this is real, I need to hear it from you in person. But if you’re joking, just admit it already so that you don't have to embarrass yourself before I start planning my heartbreak playlist.”

When you finally confess, he’d grin slyly and shake his head.

“You thought you could out-prank me? Cute. Now you owe me a nice date to make up for trying to stress me out.” (but was he even stressed in the first place?)

He wouldn’t even pretend to be mad, but his devilish smirk would remind you just how much you underestimated him. It was a nice try but you need to work harder to fool him.

Joshua: Joshua’s initial response is shock. He would be one of the most heartbroken, mainly because he wouldn’t immediately assume it’s a prank. His first response would be thoughtful and kind, showing how much he values your relationship He types and deletes messages a few times before sending:

“Is this really how you feel? Did I do something to make you feel this way? I’d really like to talk about it instead of texting.”

If you don’t reply quickly, he’d follow up with another message,

“Please don’t make a decision like this without us talking. I want to fix whatever’s wrong.”

When you finally admit it’s a joke, his relief would be palpable, and he’d laugh nervously. “I can’t believe you’d scare me like that!” He really thought he lost you for a second. You’re lucky he can’t stay mad at you. But just like Seungcheol he'll pout and will have to make up with him for some more~ (“You better make this up to me. Tonight.”) I'll keep it open to interpretation.

Jun: Jun would be confused and a bit hurt but wouldn’t jump to conclusions. He’d reread the text multiple times, trying to understand where it was coming from.

"I don't understand...."

"Did I do something wrong? I thought we were happy."

"Can we talk about this in person?"

If you keep the prank going, he’d start to blame himself so,

“I didn’t realize I was making you feel this way. I’m sorry.”

“Can we meet and talk about this?”

He was about to bring over your favorite snacks and talk it out and fix things!Then when you admit it’s a prank, he’d groan and playfully pout. His pout would be so adorable that you’d smother him with kisses in apology, and he’d happily take them all.

Hoshi: Hoshi's immediate reaction would be pure panic. He’d spam you with messages, each one more frantic than the last:

"WHAT?!"

"What do you mean break up?"

"Why??"

"Did I do something wrong?"

"I’ll fix it, I promise!"

"Don’t leave me!!!"

When you don’t reply fast enough, he’d call you, his voice would be shaky, “Please, let’s talk it out! I can’t lose you!” so when you finally tell him it’s a prank, he’d let out the most dramatic sigh of relief and switch to playful scolding in an instant saying things like, “You almost gave me a heart attack!” His whole world actually flashed before his eyes. But he wouldn’t let it slide easily, so you better give him cuddles for a week to make up for this!

Wonwoo: Wonwoo would approach it maturely but with a heavy heart.

"Is this really what you want?"

“If this is what you really want, I won’t stand in your way. But I’d like to know why, so I can understand.”

"I just want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me."

If you push the prank further, he’d try to give you space while quietly reflecting on what he might have done wrong.

“I hope you’re okay. Just let me know when you’re ready to talk.”

After this text from him, you'll have to immediately stop the prank because he's actually taking this into consideration for your sake. When you confess that it was all a prank, he’d take a moment before chuckling softly and saying, “You really scared me there. I was already preparing to give you the space you needed. Don’t joke about something like this, okay?” You really scared this man.

Woozi: He would be stunned and would stare at the message for a long time, unsure how to react. He finally texts back:

“Is this real? Did something happen?”

If you keep insisting it’s serious, he’d start overthinking.

“I didn’t realize I was making you feel this way. I’m sorry. Let’s meet and talk, please.”

When you reveal it’s a prank, he’d let out a heavy sigh and come all the way home to roll his eyes at you lmao. He can’t believe you just did that. Do you think he's laughing? No, he's not. But he'll forgive you this time. He’d try to act annoyed, but the small smile on his face would give him away.

Dokyeom: This poor man's heart would break immediately, and he’d call you with his voice trembling, his speech coming in quick succession, "What happened? Why do you want to break up? I don’t understand. Whatever it is, I’m sorry! Please!"

When you finally admit it’s a prank, he’d laugh out of sheer relief, but you’d sense his lingering panic. "You’re so mean! My heart is still racing!" (It is). So please do us a favour, don't do this type of prank with our cutie patootie and save him from a potential heartbreak.

Mingyu: Mingyu would be devastated but would try to keep it together.

"What? Why?"

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Can we talk about this face-to-face?."

When you finally tell him it’s a prank, he’d groan and collapse onto the couch, his hands covering his face. “You scared me so much! I was about to drop everything and come see you. You’re going to pay for this with a date night—and maybe a private encore performance after.” Again I'll leave this up to your interpretation of what happens after he comes back home.

Minghao: Minghao would handle it coolly but with a hint of worry.

"If that’s what you really want, I won’t stop you."

"But I’d like to know why."

When you admit it’s a prank, he’d shake his head and smirk. "Don’t test me like that again." Again, I'm leaving this up to your interpretation of what happens next when he's back home. (He’d pull you close, his lips ghosting over yours as he adds, "Next time you want my attention, just say so. No need for dramatics." — snippet)

Seungkwan: Seungkwan would immediately start spiraling the moment he reads your text. His fingers would move at lightning speed, sending a flurry of messages that progressively show his panic:

"Why??"

"????"

"What happened?"

"Is it something I did?"

"Please tell me we can fix this."

When you tell him it’s a prank, he’d yell. "YOU DID NOT JUST DO THAT TO ME!" He’d immediately start pacing in circles, waving his hands around like he’s rehearsing for a drama, "I was about to cry! How could you do this to me?" while being in call with you. But then he’d laugh, give you a side eye and forgive you.

Vernon: Vernon would be too stunned to react at first. After what feels like an eternity (but is really just two minutes), he’d reply:

"Uh... what? Can we talk about this?"

He's genuinely surprised so when you tell him it’s a joke, he’d sigh and laugh awkwardly cause then it makes sense for you to do a tiktok prank on him. "You’re wild for that. My brain didn’t know how to process it." I mean who can break up with a breathtakingly gorgeous man like him?. Also, you might catch him giving you side glances for the rest of the day, as if he’s still recovering from the fake heartbreak.

Dino: Dino would be heartbroken and immediately reply.

"What? Why?"

"I thought we were happy together."

When you reveal it’s a prank, his gasp would be loud enough to echo. "No way you just did that to me! I was about to cry!" He’d pout and demand endless apologies. His grin would leave no doubt about his plans to make you make up for it. He might be the youngest but again...I'm leaving this up to your interpretation.

[aquasarsstuff]

Prompt: Peepaw helps General Lilia with his love life

I've seen a lot of fics about General Lilia suddenly being transported into the future, and I was thinking of the same scenario but switch. Instead of General Lilia, we have peepaw going back in the past.

Basically, it's just peepaw finding ways so that General Lilia starts making a move on reader because both clearly like each other, but is too scared to act on it. The ways? Him being a rival 😂

You then started talking about peepaw, and General just thinks you've probably met another friend. He paid no attention to it, until that said friend had been giving you too much gifts as of late.

And then he goes Elsa mode:

"You shouldn't trust someone you've just met in a few weeks."

He then checks the packages one by one to make sure there wasn't anything suspicious. You gave him a "told you so" look. He just furrows his brow in annoyance, still not convince.

Then it got to the point where he started to make assumptions.

"You shouldn't be alone in a room with me. Your lover wouldn't like to hear that."

"What lover?"

He didn't answer back, but ever as persistent as you are, you kept the conversation going. The two of you went back-in-forth, until the two of you unintentionally confesses to each other.

"That's not true! Well, except that we're close, but how could I possibly like him when you're here?" "He's always been the talk of your mouth! And it pains to see me when I see that look in your eyes but never at me!"

Both of you paused. When the realization hit you, you swear you heard someone laughing in the distance.

————

Lilia was giggling to himself when he spotted you looking at him sternly. There in your arms was baby Silver sleeping peacefully, as he was wrapped like a cocoon with your warmth.

"Where have you been this past few days, Lilia Vanrouge?"

You must be really upset to pull out the government name. It seems like it's not only his younger self that needs some help on his love life.

[halfpsychic]

Kiss It Better (John Carter x gn!reader)

prompt: wisdom teeth removal from @medwhumpmay

Summary: At age 24, John Carter needs to have all four of his wisdom teeth removed. When the day comes, you take care of him.

Content: Mentions of wisdom teeth removal procedure, blood, hurt/comfort, mentions of pain medication and anesthesia, somewhat dubious consent for a kiss, reader is alluded to have their wisdom teeth out in 1 line. takes place day of and day after wisdom teeth removal surgery. so.

WC: 5k

John Carter thinks he must be cursed. He made it through high school and college without issue from his wisdom teeth, but as soon as he’s placed at Cook County General Hospital for his ER rotation, his jaws start to ache.

A few weeks into his rotation, when he’s finally getting the hang of treating patients and following Benton’s orders, the aches in his jaws move up into his head. The pain throbs along his temples and distracts him from patients, which, so early in his time in the ER, isn’t a good look for him.

At home, he sticks his fingers into the back of his mouth to get a sense of how far along the wisdom teeth are growing in. His fingers run over tender bumps, and one finger makes contact with the sharp edge of a tooth. His hand freezes. He knows he can’t ignore this now.

Carter catches you in the cafeteria and sits down at a table next to you. 

“How do I know I need my wisdom teeth removed?” He blurts out his question. You turn to look at him and see the worry in his eyes. 

“Well, you should see a dentist, they know more,” you answer. “But pain is a sign you might need things checked out. Why, are yours coming in?”

Carter nods his head. “...I think I might need to get them out soon.”

You smile, amused at the thought of Carter with swollen cheeks and suffering through the recommended soft diet for weeks. 

“Getting sore?” You ask, taking a sip of your drink.

“My head feels like it’s going to explode.”

“Yeah, you should see your dentist,” you tell him. “Best to get it over with.”

Carter deflates. He childishly hoped you’d tell him he’ll be okay, that he won’t need any teeth removed. The idea of having someone else dig into his gums and extract teeth– possibly all four– was nightmarish to him. Then he thought about all of the pain that will follow in the immediate days after, and how it will linger for weeks, and the holes in his gums that will catch the chewed-up food he eats. 

Carter’s eyes glaze over, focused on a dark stain on the table in front of him, as he comes up with more scenarios to worry about. 

“You’ll be fine,” you smile. “Eat a lot of soup and pudding for a week and you’ll be almost back to normal.”

He groans at the thought of eating mush for a week. “Can’t they just put me in a medically-induced coma for a month until I heal?”

His complaints earn a laugh from you. “I wish. Would’ve saved me a lot of trouble.”

Carter complies and sees his dentist, who schedules his surgery for the month after. On one hand, he’s glad he can get it over with. The longer he had to wait, the more he would worry himself sick about it. But he doesn’t want it to happen that soon, either. He wishes he could put it off forever. He’s heard too many horror stories from friends in high school and college and from his cousin, stories of dry socket and pain that lingers for weeks. 

The dreaded day arrives faster than Carter had hoped. He knew he would need someone to take him home, so he asked you as you walked outside with him after a shift. 

Carter shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m getting my wisdom teeth out in a few days,” he tells you while you’re walking, a reminder, but you’ve been counting down the days, too. 

“Nervous?” You ask him. 

He nods. “I’ll need someone to drive me home,” he adds. “Are you busy that day?”

“No,” you smile. The thought of seeing Carter coming out of the anaesthesia is an opportunity you can’t pass up. “I’d love to take you home.”

Carter blushes, but the darkening sky and soft light from the hospital behind you does a good job of hiding it. “Thank you.” 

There’s a steady ache in his jaws that bleeds into his chest. You walk silently beside him to your cars that are subconsciously parked close to each other, only a few parking spots separating them. 

Carter hardly sleeps the night before. His mind is plagued with visions of botched surgery and infections that seep into his bloodstream. Despite how routine the procedure is, he’s convinced something will go wrong. He’s never been good at playing the patient. That’s why he went to medical school.

A few hours later, Carter walks out of the room with gauze hanging out of his mouth and a nurse holding his elbow to steady him. He smiles the best he can with a swollen, full mouth, and the anaesthesia still in effect. His eyes don’t quite open all the way. 

“Feeling okay?” You ask, stepping closer to him to take over keeping him steady.

Carter nods. “He did great,” the nurse tells you. She extends a hand to you, “Here are his extracted teeth, and further instructions for post-operative care.”

You take the papers and the small container of his teeth, analyzing the dried blood stuck to a few of them. The nurse turns to Carter. “Take it easy, okay? Your partner will take good care of you.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. You realize how it looks– picking up Carter and helping take care of him when he gets home does seem like something a romantic partner would do. Carter just nods, either not registering her words or too dopey to argue. 

You grasp Carter’s arm in your other hand and lead him down the hallway to the front door of the clinic. His steps are slow, his eyes wanting to close. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me now,” you grin at him. 

“Sleepy,” he says, his full mouth muffling his words. 

“I know. We just have to make it to the car.” 

Carter shuffles along beside you outside into the parking lot, where, thankfully, you parked as close to the front doors as you could. Walking to the car was the easy part— getting Carter in is the hard part. 

He moves so slowly, unsure of his own body, crouching lower and lower until his head clears the roof of the car. Sitting down for him is better. He doesn’t have to worry about anything now. You lean across his body with the seatbelt in hand to buckle him in. 

“You smell good,” Carter murmurs. 

You angle your body away from him as you pull out of the passenger side, hiding your flustered smile. “Thank you.” 

Carter zones out during the drive back to his apartment. He admires the passing building with awe, as if he’s seeing Chicago for the first time. He leans closer to the window, peering up at the skyscrapers, drool leaking out of the side of his mouth. At a red light, you reach over and wipe some of it away with your thumb. 

Getting Carter out of the car proves more difficult than getting him in. He’s had all this time to relax and give into his sleepiness, making it harder to keep him awake enough to walk inside. 

You tug on his arm and he groans. The sound he makes is more of a whine, really. A high pitched noise that comes from the back of his throat, and his body falls limp the more you tug on his arm. 

“Come on, Carter, you can sleep when you get inside.”

He groans (whines) the entire time but he complies, and uses all of his strength to sit up and get out of the car.

The door to his apartment is a welcome relief. Inside, he sheds his jacket with difficulty, letting it fall to the floor for you to pick up later, and sinks into the couch. Trailing behind him, you pick up his mess, and put down his things on the coffee table. 

“Change,” you tell him with a smile. “You’ll thank me later.”

“Can you get it for me?” He mumbles, head leaning back against the cushions. 

You come back from his room with pajamas in hand. He changes quickly, agreeing that this feels better than what he was wearing before. He reaches for the TV remote on the table in front of him, getting comfortable in his spot and flicking through the television channels.

After tidying up the mess he left in his wake, picking up his dirty clothes and putting them in his laundry hamper, you join him on the couch. You don’t have anything better to do. You’re his for the day.

Carter tries to fight through the soreness in his jaws to sleep, but he’s not successful. He sits on the couch with his eyes closed, listening to the TV and hoping sleep will find him.

“Hurts so much,” Carter mumbles with his eyes closed. He can barely open his mouth to speak, causing his words to blend together. 

“You already took your pain medication,” you tell him in a gentle tone. He won’t be due for another dose for a few hours. Seeing someone you care about in pain isn’t easy to deal with, especially when you’re helpless. The most you can do is comfort him, make his recovery easier on himself, but you can’t take away his pain. 

You’re not prepared for his next words. With his slurred speech, you’re not even sure you heard him right. 

“Kiss it better?”

He stares at you with glassy, wide eyes, almost pouting. Begging. 

You answer with a nod before leaning closer to him. The couch cushions dip beneath your shifting weight. Carter’s face isn’t too swollen, just enough to notice something happened, but you know it’s still sore to touch. Your lips are feather-light against the side of his jaw, lingering for a moment, not wanting it to end just yet, even if it’s merely a friendly kiss in a time of need. 

Carter’s eyes follow yours as you pull back, but not completely away. “Turn your head for me,” you instruct, using one hand to guide his head towards you while leaning over his lap. Again, your lips touch his skin, careful not to make his pain worse. 

For a moment, your kisses do make him feel better. He manages to forget about the pain radiating up and down his jaws, replacing everything in his mind with you. Your fingers on his chin, lips pressed to the most tender part of his body. Carter doesn’t have a single coherent thought racing through his brain. All he can think about is kissing you.

Desperate to feel better, Carter takes advantage of your proximity and turns his head back to you so he can kiss you properly.

It’s a dream come true and a nightmare all at once. His lips are still dry and tasting faintly of copper, moving awkwardly from either residual numbness or pain, but it’s hard to pull yourself away. It isn’t right. He’s not thinking straight, he’s still loopy from medication, he’s just seeking comfort. It’s nothing more than that, a mistake in a moment of weakness, something you’ll both laugh off in a few days when he’s feeling better.

Carter puts a hand on your shoulder to keep you close to him. He didn’t even consider the fact that you might not want that, even if you did just kiss both of his cheeks because he asked. He didn’t think you’d pull away. 

“I…”

“It’s okay,” you look up at him with a weak smile, still almost on his lap. You can’t stand to look at him for long. You’ll lean in for another kiss if you do. 

Not knowing how to deal with this situation, you run from it. It’ll be easier this way, you convince yourself. Don’t talk about it. Don’t bring it up tomorrow or next week. Wait until it doesn’t hurt anymore, if that time ever comes. It probably won’t. 

“Hungry yet?” You ask while standing up from the couch, anxious to distance yourself from the situation. The ground feels uneven beneath your feet. “I could heat you up some chicken broth?”

Carter nods. He is hungry, not just for broth, but he’ll take what you give him. 

The couch swallows him whole. His eyes close and he can’t think about anything other than the pain and the fact that there are four holes in his mouth right now. He knows the recovery process. He knows not to drink from a straw or smoke, to stick to liquid and mush for a while before he can move on to slightly more solid foods, almost like he’s a baby learning how to eat again. He knows the pain will fade over the course of the week, with the next day or two being the peak of it. He’s sleepy but he also knows he can’t sleep on his sides yet, unless he contorts his body so his cheeks aren’t pressing against his pillows. The sound of pots and pans rattling in the kitchen snaps him out of his racing thoughts, but what replaces them isn’t all that much better. 

The TV steals his attention until you hand him a mug of warm broth and a spoon. And a hand towel to mop up whatever liquid he’s bound to spill. 

Carter seems to catch on. That, or he regrets the kiss and is too embarrassed or ashamed to bring it up. He keeps his eyes on the TV, never once stealing a glance at you like he always does. He’s too scared you’ll see right through him. 

The rest of the afternoon is like that; tense, and quiet, far too quiet. 

Carter thought– hoped?– you would stay the night. Just tonight, although he wouldn’t complain if you stayed a few more nights. The thought of waking up miserable and sore and alone sets a wave of nausea in his stomach. The thought of asking doesn’t make him feel any better. It’s bad enough he can barely talk and feed himself. He doesn’t want to be greedy and ask for more of you. 

He’s curled up on the couch now, the living room darkening, fidgeting with the corner of the blanket you put on his legs. You’re on the other end of the couch, leaning against the arm of it the same way he is. He’d flicked through the channels earlier while you were heating up another mug of broth for him and he landed on some action movie, something fast-paced yet easy to follow if he lets his eyes close for too long. 

Carter sits up. Your attention turns to the movement, thinking maybe he needs the bathroom, but he doesn’t move from the couch. He just looks at you. His lips aren’t so dry anymore, you notice. 

“When are you going home?” He asks you. His jumbled speech is almost endearing. Carter isn’t a true mess so often. He has bad days at work, walking in with bed head once in a while, or messing up something with a patient, but seeing him truly in such a state of disarray is rare, impossible, even. He’s always been one to guard his troubles, wanting to handle it himself. Stubborn. 

You attribute his soft voice to his inability to move his mouth properly. The question catches you off guard. “Oh, um, in a bit?” You answer. Truthfully, you don’t want to leave Carter all alone tonight. But he’s not asking you to stay. He’s asking when you’re leaving. “When do you want me to go?” 

He doesn’t know what to say. Never? Right now? 

“Can you stay?” Carter whispers. 

His request, so small, sends an ache across your chest. During the evening, since the kiss, it was easy to forget why you were so close to him in the first place. You were kissing him better. Your touch was what he needed for comfort. He still needs it. 

You can’t deny him when he looks at you with those eyes. He’s not even pouting but his lips don’t have to move for his eyes to plead.

“I’ll stay,” you answer with a nod. “Getting tired?”

He sighs, relieved that you don’t want to leave. The tension between you has slowly dissolved since he abruptly kissed you. He’s still worried about it, refusing to bring it up yet, but your answer is a good sign, he thinks. You could go and come back tomorrow, but you don’t. You’ll stay. 

“Yeah,” Carter replies quietly, his mouth not numb anymore but the sharp pain in his jaws when he moves them residing, “so tired.”

“Come on, you need to get into bed,” you smile at him. He groans, throwing his head back in frustration, clearly biting back a smile, too. 

Carter huffs as hard as he can, which isn’t very hard because he’s afraid of dislodging anything in his mouth, and stands from the couch. You follow him to his bedroom and pull the blankets down his bed for him. He’s already in pajamas, having lounged around his apartment in them all day since you brought him back, an oversized shirt and flannel pants. 

He settles under the blankets and loops up at you. “Water?”

“I’ll get you some water,” you answer with a soft smile. “And you should take your medicine before you sleep. You might have to wake up to take it during the night so it doesn’t wear off.”

The idea of waking up in the middle of the night sounds like torture to Carter. But he doesn’t want to be in pain in the morning, either. 

You bring back a glass of water from the kitchen and hand it to Carter, also passing him the pills he has to take. He winces as his jaws open to make room for the pills. He just wants it to be over already. 

He rests his head back against his pillows, handing you the glass of water, his lips still wet from drinking. For a second, your mind wanders back to earlier. The kiss. His lips look so inviting right now, but there’s nothing you can do about it, unless you want to ruin everything. He probably didn’t know what he was doing, you reason in your head. A rational, clear-minded Carter wouldn’t have kissed you. 

You pull the blankets up to Carter’s chest. He doesn’t look very relaxed yet, still wearing a faint grimace on his lips, from the ache in his gums or being forced to sleep on his back. 

“Here,” your hands reach for his pillows. His eyes open from the disturbance. You prop up a pillow beside his head. “You can lean your temple against this,” you explain, pushing the bottom of the pillow in so it doesn’t touch his face. He does as you say and lets his head drop to the side, resting against the pillow. It’s not much, but it’s better than trying to sleep lying flat on his back. 

“Better?” You ask, and he hums in agreement. He turns his face to the side, resting more of his forehead against the pillow, still careful to not put any pressure on the lower half of his face.

He looks far more comfortable now. It brings another smile to your face. “Good night,” you whisper.

“‘Night,” Carter mumbles with his eyes closed. The floor creaks under you as you leave his room, leaving the door open just a sliver behind you.

The TV is still on in the living room, playing the credits of whatever movie was just on. Carter’s blanket he sat on the couch with all afternoon is still there, which saves you a trip to his hall closet to dig for something to sleep with. 

Carter wakes you up in the morning. He leans over you on the couch to shake your shoulder, having to shake you two or three times before your eyes finally open. 

“Yeah?” You groan, your arm resting over your eyes to block out the sunlight from the windows. 

“Where’s the medication?” He slurs. The question wakes you up. You forgot to leave out extra for him when he woke up so the pain wouldn’t be unbearable. 

“It’s, um, it’s on the kitchen counter.” You sit straight up and yawn. Carter turns around to head into the kitchen but you throw the blanket off and swing your legs over the side of the couch. “No, I’ll get it.”

Carter freezes, not wanting to disturb your sleep but his mouth hurts so bad he just wants to crawl back into bed and sleep off the radiating stabbing sensations. 

Carter’s apartment is cold. Without the warmth of the thick blanket covering your body, you shiver as you step into the kitchen to grab the bottles of pills. The cold tile under your bare feet doesn’t help, either, your teeth chattering as you walk back into Carter’s bedroom.

“Hurts?” You ask, handing him the bottles. In an effort to retain any heat, you sit down on the edge of his bed. 

Carter hums in agreement. He sinks back into his pillows after swallowing his pills. The relief isn’t immediate, but he knows it will come soon. 

His eyes close, too, as he shifts to a more comfortable position for his jaws, although nothing is comfortable as long as the pain persists. 

“You can stay,” he offers quietly.

“Here?”

Carter nods. There is enough room in his bed to lay next to him.

Convinced this is another decision made under the influence of medication or pain, you sit next to him anyway. It’s too cold to be anywhere else, you reason with yourself. His bed is warm, and you’re cold, and he doesn’t know what he’s asking for. It can be simple. 

Carter’s head lowers to rest on your shoulder. His temple meets your shoulder and his body tilts towards yours. From your perspective, he almost looks small, which is rare for a man of Carter’s stature. He never looks small, always towering over most of your coworkers, a skyscraper working amongst humans.

But next to you in his own bed, the skyscraper illusion melts away. You can see his chest rise and fall steadily, slowly, as close as he’s ever been, and you think about how easy it is to get caught up in that closeness. If only his head was tilted up instead of down, if only Carter was thinking clearly, if only Carter would ask you to kiss him again. If he looked up at you right now, you just might lean down for a quick kiss. 

He doesn’t, because he’s tired, and his face aches and throbs too much to move again.

A few hours later, you wake up, unaware you dozed off in the first place. Carter’s head is still attached to your shoulder, his body still dangerously close to yours, still sleeping.

There’s no easy way out of this, you realize. Any movement you make will wake him up, and you really don’t want to do that, but in order to get up and use the bathroom, you’ll have to.

Carter’s bed creaks when you move, which doesn’t help your attempts to leave as smoothly as possible. Your movements are jerky and the bed is too loud, and Carter’s eyes open, blinking in confusion. 

“What’re you doing?” He asks, propping himself up on his elbow. 

“I’m sorry. I tried not to wake you up.”

Carter turns his head back to look at his alarm clock and a hand reaches up to rub his eyes. 

“You don’t have to get up,” you tell him, hoping to comfort him. 

He shakes his head. “No, I should anyway.”

He’s almost speaking normally, but you know it’s just the medication helping him. In a few hours he’ll need another dose again, this time you’ll remember to catch it early instead of late.

“What do you want for breakfast?” You ask as you stand up from his bed.

He pauses to think before quickly shrugging. “It’s all mush anyway.”

That earns a laugh from you. “What flavour mush do you want for breakfast?”

You linger in the doorway for his answer. “Chocolate pudding?” He asks.

“Chocolate pudding coming right up for my patient,” you smile at him.

Carter flops back onto his bed, a smile forming on his lips. He hates being anyone’s patient but he’s happy to have you here. He’s happy you stayed the night, because you bring him his medicine and his breakfast, definitely not because he likes how you make his heart beat faster like he’s in middle school again, and absolutely not because he wants to kiss you again.

He eats his pudding in bed, listening to you wash the dishes from yesterday and tidy up the rest of his place. He can’t imagine having to come home alone and take care of his apartment on top of himself. 

Yesterday’s numbness has completely worn off, and even with the pain medication earlier, his jaws are tight. He can feel the holes in the back of his mouth throb lightly as he does his best to swallow the pudding without letting it touch his raw gums. It’s quite difficult to manage, and he smears some pudding on his chin in the process. 

You pop your head into his room to check on him, instantly grinning at the mess on his face. “You look like you just ate shit.”

Carter rolls his eyes. “Can you bring me a napkin?”

You disappear and come back with one in your hand. Instead of handing it to Carter to do for himself, you walk up right in front of him and take his jaw (making sure to not touch the slightly swollen hinges) in one hand and wipe the pudding with the other. His eyes meet yours for a second before flickering away, his head trying to follow his gaze but your hand keeps him in place. 

“There,” you murmur. “All clean.”

With his face in your hands, his lips look so tempting again. He’d probably taste like chocolate, too. 

Carter, still shy from your touch, looks back up at you. Your hand lingers on his face, burning against his skin. “Kiss me again,” he whispers.

His voice is so quiet you’re not sure if it was real or just what you want to hear.

“Please?”

How can you say no to him?

You lean down, and like yesterday, press your lips to his, careful to be gentle so he’s not in any more pain. He can hardly move his jaws from how tight they feel, but he manages to kiss you back with the little motion he’s granted.

Your hands move down to his neck, wanting to cradle his jaws but that is out of the question, for now, at least. He shifts on the bed so he can sit taller to be closer to you. His hands grip whatever’s closest, your waist, and doesn’t let go. 

A whine scratches out of Carter’s throat when his mouth erupts into pain from his carelessness. He got too excited, moved his mouth too much, forgetting just how sore he still was. The surgery was only yesterday, after all. 

You pull back in fear of hurting him more. Reality hits, again, hard, as you look down at him. But he’s looking up at you, lips parted as he breathes heavily, and he doesn’t recoil. His eyes flicker down to your lips for a second and that tells you he wants more.

“Carter…” you whisper, voice unsteady. “Are you sure?”

He doesn’t understand. Sure about what? Sure that another kiss won’t hurt him? Sure that he does want another kiss? Sure that it’s you he wants to kiss?

It doesn’t matter. He’s sure of it all, so he nods. “Please, it makes me feel better.”

His answer sinks down from your chest into your stomach. Your hands on his neck slowly drift away. Your initial fears were right. This wasn’t anything more than a home remedy for his aches and pains. 

Carter doesn’t know why you’re stepping back. All he did was tell you the truth– finally kissing you makes him feel better than he has in years. It melts away the stress of work, the pain from his surgery, everything. Nothing else matters but you, and that’s what he’s always wanted. Just you. 

“Don’t go,” he whispers, fearing what’s going to happen next. He doesn’t want you to leave, not yet, certainly not like this. His hands fall from your waist and try to grab for your hands, but you move them behind your back. 

“I’m sorry,” your voice cracks as you speak. “I don’t want to be just a bandaid for your pain.”

He shakes his head rapidly, not caring about the pain it causes. He lifts himself up onto his knees. “No, no, no, that’s not what I meant,” he pleads. “I- I want to kiss you always. Not just because I’m hurt.”

Your arms slowly fall from their guarded position behind your back and Carter takes the opportunity to hold on to them, to make sure you don’t leave. 

You don’t know what to think. You’d spent far too long convincing yourself he didn’t actually mean it, he was just seeking whatever form of comfort he could get. But now he’s in front of you, on his knees, telling you the opposite. 

“If you’re lying I’m going to be really mad,” you tell him, your brain too fuzzy to think of a real threat. 

He shakes his head again and tugs on your arms. “Not lying.”

“Promise? ‘Cause I’ll… I’ll switch out your pain medication if you are. Really.”

“Promise,” he whines. He doesn’t even care about your empty threats because he knows he’s telling the truth. 

You give in. Arms slack, you let yourself be drawn closer to him again. 

“Your face hurts, doesn’t it?” You ask, noticing how short his responses have become. 

All he can do is nod. He overdid it with kissing you, but he doesn’t care. He’d do it again. He probably will later.

masterlist ko-fi

A/N: i had my wisdom teeth removed in Feb and it was not fun at all I wish I had someone to kiss it all better. based this off of my own experiences (but i only had tylenol for pain relief after and i wasnt This out of it but there are things i have to do for plot ok). and thank you medwhumpmay for including this... i sent it in🤭

[catscidr]

Hiii I just found your acc and really like your stuff! Can I pls request lazy morning sex with Jing Yuan (and any character you think might fit this prompt) I just looked and there is not one fic like this of this man when he's like... right there. He's like so perfect for this scenario. Thank you sm and have a great day/night! <3

i just finished writing this its 3am i think i blacked out. everybody give it up for my man jing yuan i need himSO BAAAAD AAHHH i hope u like this nonnie ♡♡ cw: nsfw, mdni. semi-clothed sx, soft dom jy, clt stimulation, size kink if you squint, praise, pet names, slight overstimulation, cuddling n fucking face-to-face, riding, creampie. /not proofread ill do that in the morning. dies/ includes: fem reader, jing yuan, fu xuan mentionned wc: 3,2k

You loved and hated waking up next to Jing Yuan in the morning. On one hand, the rhythm of his beating heart lulls you to sleep, and he makes for a wonderful personal heater; but on the other... he’s a little too comfortable. So much so that every time you sleep with him, you, without fail, end up being late for work. That, or you barely make it in time. At times you would point your finger at him and accuse him of being a wholesome, sleepy version of an incubus, and he would laugh in that smooth, baritone voice of his. 

Regardless. 

This morning was one of those mornings, of course. Jing Yuan came back home for the first time in two weeks the night before- being the general of the Luofu means that he would occasionally have to leave for an unknown amount of time to take care of business. Every time he had to leave, you’d linger around him a little longer than usual, wrap your arms around him tighter than you normally would and let your lips linger on his cheek long enough for the sun to rise completely. 

He’d come back so late last night that you were already sleeping in your shared bed, legs haphazardly thrown over the bed sheets in a poor attempt to regulate your body temperature. The button-up shirt you wore made his heart lunge in his throat in the best way, but the last thing he wanted was to wake you. So, he’d carefully remove his armored uniform, take his shirt off and slip into the bed with you with nothing but his briefs on, and pull you into his chest. You had unconsciously nuzzled closer to him, your body craving the warmth of his body you had missed oh so dearly. 

Which explained the situation you were now in. The dilemma you found yourself stuck in. Jing Yuan was back; you had your face mere millimeters away from his plush chest, his arms held you tight against him, and his soft snores almost convinced you to fall back asleep. Keyword; almost. 

As much as you loved him you knew that he’d be here once you came back from work, so with as much resolve as you could muster, you try wriggling your way out of his grip. With him being as big as he was, though, it didn’t surprise you when he tightened his hold on you, treating you as if you were his plushie threatening to fall off his bed and he was a child.

You let out a quiet oof from his strong grip and reevaluate your options. There weren’t many options, but at least you had choices; either you wake him up, convince him to let you go and then get to work early enough that you don’t risk getting written up again, or you let him hold you and... arrive at work late. Again. Which was the last thing you wanted, given the fact that your boss had specifically told you that she couldn’t allow you to miss another meeting. 

Step one was to summon the ability to be even more stubborn than your lover. Step two is to carefully wriggle your arms up, high enough that you can move your hands and you can use them to your advantage against the beast. It took you some time, given the fact that they were stuck between his and your body, but you succeeded, nonetheless. And you only got one displeased grunt from the sleeping general in response. 

As you’re about to proceed with step three, Jing Yuan cracks an eye open and buries his head into the crook of your neck while curling into you, effectively trapping you between his plush muscles and the duvet. 

Could have gone better. 

“Jing Yuan,” you huff, your voice sounding more like a whine than anything. The general doesn’t respond, leading you to believe he fell asleep again, but his morning voice graces your ears before you have the time to curse him out. “Mhm, I’m up,” he hums, pressing a lazy kiss to your neck in a false apology. 

You wriggle in response, grunting from the sheer effort. One of the downsides that came with cuddling with Jing Yuan was the way he could keep you right there with him as long as he wanted, curse his strength. 

Seeing as he wasn’t going to budge, you decide that two can play that game. You stare into his silky mop of silver hair, pondering whether you should negotiate your freedom or if you should play dirty- but where's the fun in trying to talk your way out of this predicament? You bring a hand up to gently brush his bangs away from his face. He makes a soft noise of contentment at the feeling of your fingers delicately brushing against his face and, before he can grow too comfortable, you lean in and bite his cheek. 

The general makes a noise of surprise, grunting as he pulls away from you to narrow his eyes at his perpetrator. His pout morphs into a lazy smile as he holds your glare. “If you wanted to play you could have just said so, sweetheart,” he says lowly, moving his free hand from your back to letting it rest lazily on your hips, thumb rubbing gentle circles on the exposed skin. 

You stick your tongue out at him stubbornly, “Not now, I have to get up.” Unfazed by your headstrong attitude, Jing Yuan shifts one of his legs to come between yours- his strong thigh sandwiched between your soft ones. A surprised gasp leaves your lips in response to the smooth way he molds his body to yours, but you refuse to allow yourself to be swayed by him. 

“Aeons- ‘Yuan please,” you huff quietly, but he notices the way your voice catches in your throat. His golden eyes briefly shine with what could only be described as mischief and, with a smooth motion, Jing Yuan grabs ahold of your shoulder and swivels you around so that your back is against his chest. A surprised oof rips from your throat as you bounce lightly on the bed from the impact- he lowers his face to yours, a rich, deep chuckle echoing in your ears as your resolve begins to melt away. 

Taking advantage of the new position, Jing Yuan throws a leg over yours to trap you in and, in turn, grinds his growing bulge against your ass. If he wasn’t hard at the sight of your face in the morning when he first woke up, he sure was now; while he slowly ruts against you, he allows his hands to wander down to the hem of your shirt. 

You stifle a moan as the metaphorical dam in your head begins to crumble apart. Sure, you would see him when you would get back home later, but you were with him now. Laying here with your lover, safe and comfortable in his arms while his clothed erection lazily thrusts up into your heat. 

As you let out needy whines that you aren’t even aware you’re voicing, Jing Yuan brings his lips closer to your ear. “Five more minutes?” he asks with a knowing smile, his own breath becoming more and more rugged the more he rubs up against you. Gods, he could feel you throbbing through his sweatpants and your panties. 

You swallow thickly and whine in response, your head already fogging up with desire. Going a whole two weeks without sex wasn’t particularly hard; you had your trusty toy with you and your hands if it happened to run out of battery and you were that desperate. But you weren’t- and during these past two weeks you had felt just fine, totally not pent up or even the slightest bit sexually frustrated. Your job had kept you busy, but when you’re stuck in Jing Yuan’s arms after not feeling him for so long, after not feeling his cock twitching inside you, you felt like something snapped inside you.

Distantly, you think about how pathetic this must look for him; only a few lingering touches and his hips pressing up against yours from the back and that’s all it takes for you to drench your panties. But really, you couldn’t care less. You knew he was just as pent up as you were. 

You bring one of your hands down to fumble with the hem of your panties to quickly take them off, down your legs. Hearing Jing Yuan’s hoarse breathing in your ears only made you even more eager to feel his skin right up against yours. Maybe part of the reason why you were so incredibly turned on was because of how tired you still felt, but either way, you needed him. And he needed you just as badly. 

The general’s hands leave you temporarily to slide his sweatpants down to his thighs, low enough for his cock to leave its confines. Precum builds at the tip, swollen and pulsing with the need to bury itself inside you. He sighs, one of his hands coming up to stroke his length, thumb sliding over the slit every time his fist comes up. You whine at the loss of his hands on you and reach back to take his hand, bringing it between your legs to rub your clit. He laughs at your impatience, shifting his weight on his other arm to lean over you properly. 

“Someone’s impatient and greedy,” he goads. “I thought you wanted to get to work, darling,” he purrs in your ear, his middle and ring finger coming together to tease your bud, riling you up further and making a mess between your legs. A strained fuck leaves your lips as you back your ass up into him, his hard cock tucked between your thighs, rubbing into your arousal. “Please just-” a whimper interrupts you as Jing Yuan increases the pace of his fingers, “-inside. I-I need to feel you,” you huff, feeling too empty. He considers teasing you some more, listening to the wet sounds of your pussy bounce off the walls of your shared bedroom, but his own patience was also waning thin. 

A quiet noise of protest leaves you when the man takes his hand away from your bud. He brings his fingers up to his lips to lick your slick off of them, moaning at the taste. Your thighs clench in response, jerking the general’s cock unintentionally. 

“Fuck,” he growls into your ear, hurriedly taking his length into his hand to guide it into your soaking wet cunt. Your mouth hangs open when you feel his tip slip between your lips, needy noises slipping from your mouth. Inch after inch he sinks into you, slowly letting you accommodate to his girth. He finally bottoms out, stretching your hole as you keen and whine from the satisfaction of feeling so full. 

He waits a few beats to allow you to get used to him, your hoarse breathing matching his own. When he feels you clamping down on him less, he starts to thrust- pulling out slowly and thrusting back in sharply. You moan aloud, mouth agape as his cock bullies your spongy walls relentlessly. 

“Jing Yua-aan,” you whimper, hands gripping onto his forearms weakly, nails forming crescent shapes into his skin. He reduces you to a sleepy, blabbering, moaning mess as the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes in the bedroom. With one hand splayed across your lower tummy, he presses down, making you arch your back into him from the sudden added pressure and pleasure. 

“Y’ like that? You missed me, huh?” he taunts, though his own voice trails off into a needy moan the more he feels the drag of your walls along his cock. “I know I’ve- fuck, m-missed you,” Jing Yuan stutters, thrusts becoming increasingly sloppy as he feels a familiar coil form in his abdomen. His thigh muscles clench as he wills away his orgasm, needing to feel you all around him for a bit longer. 

Unable to respond you simply nod dumbly, the words leaving your brain as it’s reduced to mush. Your lover hums, a smirk stretching his lips, “Yeah?” He brings his face closer to yours, your breaths tangling with each other before he smashes his lips against yours, the angle awkward and uncomfortable. But you don’t care- the added stimulation makes you melt as you crane your head back to kiss him properly, your lips occasionally leaving his from the force of his thrusts. 

Jing Yuan moans into your mouth and breaks the kiss. He looks at you with pure lust swirling in his golden eyes, your face sinful and needy. An idea pops up in the general’s mind and he smiles down at you, pressing one last chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“Ah, w-what are you-” you slur, your sentence interrupted by the general manhandling you to switch positions. He kicks the sheets off completely and places both of his large hands on your waist, gripping you firmly as he lays on his back, placing you on top him. His cock slips out of your walls with a wet shlick and you whine at the feeling of being so suddenly empty, twisting your body so that your thighs straddle his hips. Jing Yuan looks up at you with a small, cat-like smirk and your breath catches in your throat. 

His silky hair splayed out on the pillows beneath him, cheeks flushed, and eyes piercing into yours made your knees buckle and you suddenly froze in your movements. Feeling your pussy throb against him, Jing Yuan chuckles heartily, one of his hands leaving your waist to stroke his hard cock, your slick dripping down on him. 

“Lift your hips up and sit on my cock, darling,” he orders softly, a stark contrast to the way he looks at you- with pure, unfiltered lust and adoration. Your body moves automatically as you obey, hovering your tight pussy over his swollen tip, and lower yourself down. Your mouth opens in a silent moan, and you feel his girth stretching you out again as you begin to bounce on his hard cock. 

“Yeahh just like that,” he hums, the hand that held his length moving up to rest on your stomach, thumb jutting out to rub tight circles over your sensitive clit. You squeak in surprise, your body jolting forward, and place your hands over his plush chest for balance. “Feels good, baby? Feel how deep my cock is?” 

A moan leaves his kiss-bitten lips and you swear you physically felt yourself get pushed closer to your nearing orgasm, the noises leaving his lips amplifying your pleasure tenfold. “Taking me so well, look at that pretty pussy,” he coos, and you keen as his half-lidded eyes burn into yours. He feels your walls clench in response to the praise and flashes you a dangerous smirk; he places his feet flat on the bed and tightens his grip on your waist to buck his hips up, making you topple over him. Your gaze is unfocused and blurry as you look down at him, heavy breaths leaving your lips, tears threatening to roll down your rosy cheeks from the pace he set. 

“And look at you,” he whispers lovingly under his breath. Jing Yuan throws his head back deeper into the pillows, keeping his eyes on you as he watches you lose yourself to the addicting feeling of his cock bullying your sopping cunt. “Y-Yuan,” you whine, your climax threatening to rip through you as you bite your lip to stifle your needy moans. He tuts, leaning up to bite your lip to pull you out of your pleasure-filled daze. 

“Pay attention to me darling. Thaat’s it, let 'em out for me.” The general huffs, brows furrowing in concentration to focus on the feeling of your warm walls surrounding him, sucking him in endlessly. His thumb presses down onto your clit roughly to bring you closer to your orgasm; you whimper in turn, a chorus of oh fuck and please’s leaving your puffy lips. “I-I’m so close,” you whine, eyelids fluttering shut as you feel your control leaving your body, the tight coil of your orgasm threatening to snap. 

Jing Yuan groans, hips bucking up into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he keeps up the pace, persistent. “Come on, give it to me, pretty girl.” He coos, voice breaking into a whine, close to climaxing himself. His thrusts become sloppier, and he bites his bottom lip to stifle a string of hearty, needy moans. 

His hips still up into you as he cums, thick ropes of his seed painting your walls white. Jing Yuan’s thumb flicks your puffy clit until you climax as well, your cunt milking his sensitive cock. You whimper, feeling your clit buzz with overstimulation as he keeps rubbing it with purpose. “S-Stop, stooop,” you cry, your eyes burning with tears as the dull pain turns into pleasure, “Aeons you’re so tight.” Your lover slows down his movements, easing the tension in his muscles, until he stops circling your clit and gently places both of his hands on your waist. His hands slide up and down your sweaty skin, soothing the bruises that will inevitably form.

Your body slumps, exhausted and utterly spent, arms caging him as you rest your face in the crook of his neck. You both feel sticky and sweaty, but the warmth you shared made up for the need to jump in the shower to wash yourselves off. Jing Yuan shifts his hips so that his softening cock slips out of you; he inhales sharply, his cock still sensitive. 

“I missed you,” you mumble quietly, voice muffled from the way you're pressed into him and the pillows and press a chaste kiss to his neck. “Yeah? I never would have guessed,” the general chuckles, arms coming up to hug you tightly, one hand placed behind your head to cradle you close to him. You hit him with a huff but then sigh, content. 

“Mmh, but I missed you too, darling,” Jing Yuan replies softly. He holds you as your eyes droop, exhaustion taking ahold of your tired body. His own eyelids droop as he listens to your soft heartbeat, and soon enough, you’re both sleeping, legs tangled together while Jing Yuan’s strong arms keep you laid atop of him. 

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

You’re not sure what time it is when you wake up, but you hear a phone ringing loudly in your ear, jolting you away from your peaceful dreams. You don’t recognize the tune, and as you’re about to wriggle your way out of the dozing general’s arms, he swings one arm over to the nightstand next to your bed and answers it without looking at the caller ID. “Jing Yuan speaking,” he says in a hoarse voice, eyes still closed. 

Even without his phone on speaker you could make out a very loud, very shrill voice from the other side of the line, yelling out two hours late, a single mission and get your ass over here. Jing Yuan doesn’t react, the same sleepy, cat-like smile on his face as he listens to the person rant. They eventually let up and hang up, saying something you couldn’t quite catch. Your lover haphazardly tosses his phone somewhere on the bed and loops his arm back around you, nuzzling into your neck. 

“Who was that?” you ask, voice cracking from how much you abused your vocal cords (apparently) two hours ago. He scoffs, amused, and pulls away just enough to speak clearly. 

“Lady Fu Xuan,” he says slyly. “I should get dressed before she decides to read into my divination and sees things she probably shouldn’t.”

[angelbarelywritesslashers]

♡ slashers scenarios | you’re almost a victim… (part 2)

♡ fandoms; House of Wax, Scream (kinda), Hannibal/Silence of the Lambs, Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Bo Sinclair, Danny Johnson, Hannibal Lecter

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; mentions of violence and cannibalism, kidnapping, stalking, suggestive content

♡ notes; I’m kinda surprised this prompt won out for a part 2 but very happy lol, I had some fun ideas.

the whole gang is not here, just some kinda kinky guys again- I feel like this doesn’t work super well for every single slasher? only some of them are psychopaths AND perverts

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Bo Sinclair

> bo was having a rough day

> your friends had been putting up one hell of a fight, killing the first four was a huge pain in ass

> so by the time there’s only two of you left, he hasn’t even gotten a proper look at you

> it’s not until you come back to the gas station, wide eyed and begging for help that he finally notices you

> god you’re cute- you can be last

> he drops the nice guy act and gets you to the chair- rough as always and threatening you the whole way

> but then he notices it’s all a lot easier than usual today

> he glances up and can’t help but grin

> your cheeks are bright red and your chest heaving- you like being restrained

> “i’ll be good- promise—“ you mumble before he can be a smart ass

> he gags you anyways, but he praises you as you open your mouth for him to stuff the rag it in

> he can hear you whimper as he does and he’s just itching to leave so he can come back

> he leans over, one hand planted between your legs to steady himself

> he can hear your breathing catch as he simply kisses your forehead, snickering as he leaves

> you were really something

> a pretty, obedient little something that would last way longer than a day if you kept it up

Danny Johnson

> he’s worried you saw the flash of his camera through your window that morning

> he’s normally so careful, he can’t believe he slipped up like that- honestly he’s surprised you didn’t call the cops

> you must have been too groggy, or maybe it wasn’t as dark as he thought it was at the time. maybe you noticed but didn’t put two and two together

> he needs to kill you soon anyways. he’s been watching for a while, and he’s wasting time

> he settles back into his usual spot where he can see perfectly into your bedroom

> he sees you frown just a tad as you pick up the phone call from an “unknown number” - but you still pick up

> “Hi there, doll .”

> he’s called you more than once, this “ghost voice” that’s been terrorizing you- and god is it a nice voice

> a nice voice that says vile things. some of them just violent, some…well some things you like too much

> you can see you make an expression he doesn’t expect. you bite your lip, cheeks pink

> he’s seen that look before…not for Ghostface, of course, but for Danny

> you were easy enough to befriend, and it just gave him more opportunities to keep tabs on you

> like most people he charms, you clearly have a crush on him, and that little lip bite is about the same face you make when he flirts

> maybe he’s just seeing things

> you couldn’t be that perfect.if you were he would have to keep you around

> he continues on and on, observing you carefully

> and you just keep getting more and more flustered, even when he’s threatening to choke you stupid

> “you know you’re so cute when you blush like that,”

> what you say next comes just about as close to scaring him as you can get

> “Thank you, Danny.”

Hannibal Lecter

> you weren’t quite as close to victimhood as one might assume

> but he was a fast killer once he had a mark set- you had to impress him more than a bit to be considered and then ruled out

> you start as his patient

> you’re a meek thing, easy to read and fragile

> you’re practically asking to become an entree

> if you taste as good as you look, you’d be his best dish yet

> it’s not hard to get you alone outside of an appointment

> you’re delighted when he invites you to a dinner party- you’ve heard great things about his little get togethers

> and he even lets you help him get ready, setting the tables

> the conversation become macabre as you discuss some recent murders that police suspected were committed by a cannibal

> that he committed for the sake of the dinner party, naturally

> he corners you before you can realize it - he likes playing cat and mouse

> you giggle nervously and look up at him

> he’s got a hand on the wall above you, and he notices your eyes linger on his toned forearms

> many patients and victims have crushes on him, it’s not surprising or a deterrent

> though it surprised him the gristly conversation wasn’t bothering you

> “yknow, it must be nice to know you’re safe from that serial killer in the neighborhood. If he is a cannibal, he’s most likely to chose someone more sedentary.”

> you leave him there, as if you hadn’t said something so delightfully offputting to find a vase for the table

> maybe he could do some further studying….

[generalsmemories]

Unwanted reunion

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ prompts: “catching the other one crying shortly after an argument and immediately feeling an overwhelming wave of guilt crash onto you.” + "it's okay, we can fix this..." + “playing with their hair until they fall asleep”|| 1k event

✧ contents: hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, implied character death

✧ a/n: if u wonder how in the world i came up with the scenario below. i genuinely don't know either it's a mystery to even me. CREATIVE LIBERTY WINS AGAIN THE PROMPTS WERE LITERALLY INSPO AND NOT WRITTEN DIRECTLY INTO THE SCENARIO. also implied that this took place after the battle with phantylia so keep that in mind.

NOT BETA-READ AS USUAL FELLAS I WANTED TO HAND THIS OVER TO YA'LL ASAP AS AN APOLOGY FOR STARVING YOU ALL FOR SO LONG!! it's mild angst though, so sorry.

Jing Yuan's can feel a familiar heaviness weigh on his body as well as the feeling of someone wrapping a roll of gauze on his arm. However opening his eyes proved to be a challenge in itself and it's only with great struggle that he can manage to force them slightly open to the bright light.

The first thing he notices is the familiar ceiling of your shared home. A bit weird since whenever he did get injured he would immediately be rushed towards a private room by the Seat of Divine Foresight - which was the safest place for him to stay. Perhaps you had gotten your will again to take care of him - seeing as you're a high ranking healer yourself and quite a stubborn soul.

But his eyes still widen a tiny bit when he sees you sitting by the edge of the bed, one hand gripping his gauzed wound while your other hand is busy trying to find something to keep your hard work in place. You're humming a soft tune again, he never knows what sort of melody you're humming, only that it had become a habit for you after the amount of years you had spent by his side bandaging his battle wounds. Something about helping your mood and staying positive.

"Your recklessness knows no bounds, Jing Yuan." the sternness of your voice snaps him out of the daze he's in, immediately rising up from the bed only to groan in pain when the wounds that you had just wrapped up react to his body folding, "... And still don't know when to rest - even when I'm in the middle of treating you."

"...How much time has passed?" he asks, voice hoarse after having slept for who knows how long. You only hum, setting the bandages aside - the gesture causing Jing Yuan to follow your hand movements which makes him notice the bloodied bandages inside the trash by your legs.

"A couple of days, I was just finishing changing your bandages when you finally woke up. Here, some water." you inform, raising a glass towards his lips, patiently waiting for him to move closer.

You only start to speak again after he's taken several gulps, placing the cup of water back on the nightstand beside his bed. "Why are you so willing to throw your life away?" you ask after a moment of silence, helping Jing Yuan rest against the headboard, eyes never leaving his own that don't dare to even look into your own.

"It's my duty-"

"Your duty is to make sure as many of the Cloud Knights survive a battle. Not gamble your life on a piece that you weren't sure had the capabilities to help."

Jing Yuan bites his tongue at your immediate rebuttal, you were right after all. "The Master Diviner was right there by you. A troop was enough to guard the entrance, you didn't need to leave the master diviner with them to go on this-"

"... Can't you be happy for once whenever we meet like this?" he asks quietly, effectively stopped you from saying anything more. His gaze is cast downwards whenever he mutters the same question to you whilst shrinking a bit after asking. There's no sign of the proud general in your presence - in front of you is just Jing Yuan asking a supposedly harmless question.

Perhaps that's the reason why you can never shove him away immediately.

"... You know what my answer is."

Jing Yuan was no crier. In fact, you think he stopped crying or showing any visible sign of discomfort or uneasiness the day he got the title as General. You're pretty sure you can count the amount of times you've seen Jing Yuan cry on one hand.

Perhaps his ability to hide his own needs and wants so often day by day for the past centuries makes your dismissal of his simple wishes that more gut-wrenching for you. You try to ignore the overwhelming guilt that washes over you every time you have to say the same thing to him.

"... You have a lot of things that you want to get done on the Luofu, Jing Yuan." you murmur softly, extending a hand to run your fingers through his locks, breaking apart any knots that may have formed in his sleep.

"You know we can meet again, but now is not the time - especially now," you gently remind with a sombre smile, your hand moving from his hair to rest against his chin to make him face you.

"It's gonna be alright, okay?" he scoffs at your reassurance, finally coming to terms with your conditions once again like always, wrapping his arms around your waist to fall down back on the bed with you on top.

"Remember the last time you said those words to me?" he says, almost sounding offended at your choice of words to which you only smile against his skin in guilt.

"It was the first time I saw you cry so hard," you try to joke, pressing your hands against the mattress to push yourself off of Jing Yuan, choosing to hover above him instead.

"... I'm sorry," you decide to say in the end after a moment of silence, once again threading your fingers through his hair - an act you knew used to calm him before. At this moment though, you're not so sure.

"Why? Shouldn't I be sorry?" he asks in return, a small yawn leaving his lips as his eyes struggle to stay open. You smile bitterly as you shake your head, still threading your fingers through his hair.

"No, none of it was your fault - what happened back then was out of your control. But this time it isn't. I can wait for a long time, Jing Yuan. I know you're aware of that so don't try to rush anything to meet me again." you tell him, leaning down to press your lips against his forehead.

"So it's time to wake up, dear. Luofu is waiting for you."

[httpsdana]

hey queen!! I hope that your exams went as you hoped and that you’re doing well🙂‍↕️

I would like to request a hurt/comfort fic with Pau where the reader comforts him after his red card in the cl match against benfica🫶 the reader’s worried about Pau since he‘s being super hard on himself and feels really down. since he’s upset he gets quite clingy, so y/n gives him lots of hugs, holds his hands, runs her hand through his hair, gives him small kisses, etc, to console him. generally just super sweet at fluffy <33

thanks in advance!! also btw your writing is literally BOMBBB, I love it sm😛😛

Mistakes Happen~Pau Cubarsi

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: my exams were so bad but thank youu 💓 should've written this ages ago but I was too lazy to do it so. enjoy <3

When he got the red card against Benfica, almost everyone lost hope. It was the same scenario as last year; getting a red card early in the match and continuing the rest with only 10 players against a tough opponent.

Except this time, they managed to win. And although she was happy that the team won, her thoughts drifted to the teenage boy who had left the pitch early, trying not to cry.

As soon as the match ended, she took her phone and dialed his number. It rang a few times before he answered.

“amor…” His voice was weak, breath shaky and unsteady.

“Pau…hi, baby,” she murmured, trying to ignore the way her chest hurt at the tone of his voice.

There was silence for a while. Neither of them dared to say a word.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, a deep sigh escaping his lips.

She clutched her phone tighter, trying not to tear up.

“Don’t be, cariño. Things like this happen in football,” she said, her voice soft and comforting. She hugged her phone close to her chest, wishing she could hold him instead.

“I…” He was about to say something before some noise in the background interrupted him.

“I’ll come by soon. Coach needs us now,” he said, and she nodded as if he could see her.

“Okay, baby. I love you,” she said, almost seeing him smile a little.

“I love you more,” he mumbled before the line went dead.

After a few hours of waiting, there was a gentle knock at the door. She jumped from her bed to open it, careful not to wake her parents. She opened the door, and there stood Pau, a frown on his face and his shoulders slumped in disappointment.

“Come in, amor,” she said, grabbing his hand gently and guiding him to her room before closing the door behind them.

She wrapped her arms around him briefly, holding him tight as if trying to offer him a little warmth and comfort.

She didn’t dare say a word when Pau pulled away and sat on the edge of her bed, his face in his hands to avoid looking into her eyes.

“I messed up badly…” he murmured, his voice broken and hurt.

“You didn’t, Pau. Mistakes in football happen. And the team won, so don’t be hard on yourself, baby,” she said, sitting beside him and gently brushing the hair off his forehead. She reached out to hold his hand, giving it a soft squeeze.

“But I made it harder on them. Pedri almost passed out from how much he ran, covering the spaces where I was supposed to be,” he let out a sigh, leaning his head against her shoulder. She wrapped her arm around his back, pulling him closer.

“No one is blaming you. You did your job, even if it didn’t end up like we expected,” she said, pressing a light kiss on his forehead. She held him for a moment, offering him comfort through her touch.

“I just wanted to make you proud,” he whispered, his eyes closing as he breathed in her scent.

“You know I’m always proud of you, Pau. I’m so proud of everything you’ve done and are doing right now. You’re only eighteen, for God’s sake,” she chuckled softly, making him hum. She kissed the top of his head gently, her fingers brushing through his hair.

“Promise you’ll always be proud of me in the future?” He looked up at her, his green eyes blurred with tiredness.

“I’ll always be proud of you, cariño,” she mumbled, cupping his jaw gently before leaning down and kissing his lips softly. The kiss was tender, lingering for just a moment before she pulled back.

“Come on, let’s get you to sleep,” she said, pulling him up with her and covering his body with the blanket. She kissed him again, this time on the cheek, as she settled him in.

She laid back beside him, and before she had the chance to cover herself, Pau’s head was on her chest, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist as he let out a deep sigh.

“I love you, princesa,” he muttered, his eyes already closing.

“I love you more, honey. I’m so proud of you,” she said against his hair, pressing a kiss on the corner of his head before she herself drifted to sleep.

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty @n0vazsq @joaosnovia @ilovebarcaaaa @f1lover55 @jajajhaahaha (lmk if you want to be added!!)

[comicaurora]

Hey Red, sorry if this was asked already, but do you have any advice on writing a trickster hero? And do you have any favorites yourself?

Huh! This is something I've never really thought too hard about before, but I do have some loose and unformed thoughts!

So the trickster archetype is, broadly, a character who wins by being cunning and tricking the people around them. Typically this is because they are an underdog facing a powerful opponent, and if they face that opponent on the terms that opponent defines, they'll lose. For instance, a physically strong opponent might want to make everything into a contest of raw force; a politically powerful opponent might want to make things a legal battle; a commander of a large army might want to battle on a flat terrain-less battlefield and overpower the smaller enemy force through raw numbers; etc etc.

A trickster doesn't have the raw power to make a scenario happen. Instead, they achieve that scenario by making other characters make it happen, usually by misleading them into thinking it'll have some other outcome they want.

A classic example of this is found in a Brer Rabbit story where Brer Rabbit has been snatched by Brer Fox, and Brer Rabbit begs and pleads with him to not throw him into that briar patch, oh the torment he would experience in that briar patch would be unimaginable, drowning or burning would be bad but still better than that briar patch. Brer Fox naturally throws him into the briar patch, at which point Brer Rabbit vanishes into the underbrush and helpfully clarifies that he was born and bred in a briar patch. He was unable to escape through his own power, so instead he convinced Brer Fox that yeeting him into the briar patch would give Brer Fox something he wanted (Brer Rabbit's unimaginable torment) when in actuality it gave Brer Rabbit exactly the cover he needed to escape. It only worked because Brer Rabbit understood that Brer Fox was fundamentally not just hungry, he was cruel.

Tricksters usually achieve victory through lying, stealing, sneaking around and generally being dishonest. These are usually not seen as heroic traits, but the trickster hero is an archetype of character who is broadly heroic - and uses trickster tactics to win. It's an interesting suite of character traits to balance. In order to make a trickster heroic, them being the underdog usually needs to be played up. It's not really easy to root for someone with power to manipulate people for their own ends, but it's easy to root for someone scrappy and underleveled to manage to gumption their way to a victory over a broadly superior opponent.

A sympathetic trickster usually isn't someone who picks fights. Trouble comes to them, and then they need to find a way to escape or stop it. This is the paradigm that makes Bugs Bunny work as a trickster hero - he starts off basically every adventure minding his own business, and when someone comes around with a blunderbuss and a hankering for rabbit stew, their actions are what prompts him to unleash absolute hell on them by using toon physics and trapping them in ironclad social conventions to completely unbalance them until they're eventually defeated.

If we see a big, loud, powerful jerk try to stomp on someone small and innocuous, we're inclined to root for the small and innocuous person. This setup makes us very eager to see the small and innocuous person use tricks and shenanigans to make a fool of the powerful jerk, and it automatically makes us more okay with the sympathetic character doing on-paper unheroic things like lies and manipulation as long as they're doing them to someone we're primed to dislike.

So trickster heroes are usually fundamentally reactive characters. Something bad happens and they respond by unleashing hell. Another easy way to make a character instantly more heroic is to give them an even weaker, even more sympathetic character to protect or assist. Thus, many trickster heroes have a suite of supporting characters they're protecting who are not tricksters by nature, and are instead just there to be endangered or bullied by Nasty Mean Powerful People. Our trickster heroes stepping in to aid and protect other people thus gives their actions an even more heroic cast, because not only are they reactive to an outside threat, they're selflessly reactive.

This is the framing that's used in Leverage, where every episode has a victim of the week being cruelly taken advantage of by a jerkass of the week, at which point our team of liars, grifters and thieves roll up to ply their trade on the jerkass and award the spoils of war to the victim of the week. Because the person they're tricking is proven unequivocally to be truly awful and completely insulated from legal consequence a solid 98% of the time, we don't feel particularly bad seeing our team of heroes manipulate, gaslight and eventually absolutely destroy them over the course of a crisp 40 minutes. The vileness of the villain combos with the innocent powerlessness of the person they're advocating for, and thus their assorted unheroic qualities become reframed as absolutely heroic due to the circumstances under which they use them.

Crucial to the formula is the horrendous nastiness of the villain of the week, because if we were even kind of sympathetic to them, the schemes of the protagonists would be kinda scary. They are very good at quickly getting the bad guy to trust them and then taking apart everything they've built, and that's only fun to watch if the audience is 100% sure the villain deserves it and is not going to spend too much time thinking "wow, it would be terrifying if that happened to me." The fact that our heroes almost always take them down simply by leveraging (heh) the bad guy's badness is a big part of what makes the formula work. Almost every episode is functionally similar to a Briar Patch scenario - "oh gosh I sure hope no SOULLESS CAPITALIST VAMPIRES take advantage of how MANIPULABLE I am to try and get my MONEY and/or VALUABLES", and then the villain's own established cruelty cascades into their downfall when it runs into the dominos our heroes have set up to expose them. And that does a lot to make the audience sympathize with a crew of four self-admitted terrible people (and Hardison, who's an angel and we're delighted to have him)

Another way to get the audience to root for a potentially nonstandard protagonist is to set them up against a villain who is smug. Smugness is a very dangerous trait for any character to have, because it primes the audience to want to see them break. A villain who thinks they are too powerful or too strong or too smart to be defeated has the audience immediately rooting for them to be proven wrong just so they can watch the expression on their face. This is the strat they use in Columbo.

Every Columbo villain is rich and powerful and very insulated from legal consequences, and we start every episode seeing them arrange and execute an attempt at a perfect murder. We know from the start how they did it and usually why, and because they are smug - they are almost never regretful or reluctant - we become invested in seeing how Columbo figures out what they did, how they did it, and how he can prove it and get them arrested. Columbo is a nonstandard kind of trickster hero, because he is deeply and fundamentally a Lawful Good archetype, but he is also a very casual liar. The only time the audience sees Columbo almost certainly telling the truth is when he's dealing with background characters, his fellow policemen or his dog, or when he's by himself silently putting the pieces together; at all other points in the episode he will typically conceal how much he knows, how he knows what he knows and why he's asking specific probing questions. The audience has a tremendous amount of dramatic irony in terms of information about the perfect murder Columbo has to disassemble; we'll see Columbo zero in on exactly the one small detail that pokes a hole in the supposed airtight alibi, but instead of saying "I think you killed them and I am determined to prove it" he'll dance around why he's focusing on those details - just curiosity, just a desire for completeness, his superiors told him to continue the case and he doesn't know why, his wife is just such a big fan of their work, etc etc.

As a rule, the first time in any given episode that Columbo admits he's suspicious of the villain is the beginning of the last scene of the episode when he proves that they did it and they subsequently surrender. When Columbo is dealing with the villain, absolutely nothing he says can be trusted until that final scene - and it's a rare treat to get a glimpse of Columbo showing an honest emotion, especially something like genuine fury. Most of the time he maintains a very harmless and affable attitude, but sometimes when the villains are very smug and they know he's suspicious of them but can't prove anything yet, his righteous anger peeks through and we see why he does this.

He's a trickster hero because he can't unravel the case, the villain's motivation and the shape of the crime if the villain knows everything he knows and can correspondingly keep up with him. But he is 100% committed to exposing the truth of the situation and making the murderer face justice. Their perfect alibi is supposed to protect them from everything, but it's their confidence and certainty that they could never be caught that Columbo leverages to win. They never know entirely what to make of him, and he's never wholly honest with them - and with the audience - until the very end of the episode. It's good, cathartic payoff to an episode's worth of lies and manipulation from both main players, and it's always fun to see the non-smug party on the side of justice come out on top.

Some trickster heroes are more like standard heroes with trickster tendencies that occasionally surface. These guys are usually pretty straightforward, but in a pinch they can bust out a surprisingly cunning scheme or two - one such moment hits at the climax of Across the Spider-Verse, and it's a great moment of characterization for Miles, who has thus far been a pretty typically heroic guy who has unfortunately spent the entire movie thus far being lied to by people he trusted. It kicks off an enormously long and complicated chase sequence that takes the entire spider-community out of the home base chasing him through an absolutely massive complex and eventually onto a space elevator. It's such a fluid scene, you kind of just accept that it's a desperate chase sequence - Miles is just running. It doesn't occur to the other spider-people that Miles might have a plan beyond running until he basically tells Miguel that, hey, he did just get every other spider-person out of the facility that has the portal to get him home. He wasn't just running away, he was luring everybody away so he can leave.

And this moment is fantastic on a meta-level, because Spider-Man is traditionally a bit of a trickster hero. Most of his enemies are able to physically outpace him, and he needs to use mobility and strategy to take them down, often luring them into environments that work against them - like a fun moment in Spectacular Spider-Man where Spidey defeats the Rhino by luring him into a steam tunnel and basically giving him heatstroke through his armor plating. But because the entire core theme of this movie is "Miles isn't a real Spider-Man," it literally doesn't seem to occur to the other spider-people that Miles's seemingly panicked running might be him pulling a Spider-Man on them. We're so used to being in Miles's head and knowing when he's got a plan or a ploy that this is a very fun moment to watch. He's successfully deceived an entire army of spider-people, and the audience is just as blindsided as Miguel - and a little less electrocuted, so it's a lot more fun for us.

So yea, trickster heroes are a fun little space of character, but you gotta be careful to put them in the right kind of situation, lest their fundamental dishonesty come across as alarming rather than extremely rad.

[mionkings]

Wrong Twin Bozos 🙄

First ever DC x DP prompt because I've been getting brainrot reading yall prompts and I need a nap :> this is crac–

A classic twin Damian and Danny AU, where Danny ends up with the generic fuckery of having the GIW/Bad Parents!Fentons after him from a bad reveal gone wrong, Vlad outing him, or escaping after getting vivsected and injured badly.

Who Knows? But Danny's GOTTA GO-

Now in some scenarios, we get Danny hitting the deck and going to Gotham, to Batman and Robin aka Damian for help and revealing himself. But some au prompts I've seen of Danny ORIGINS about leaving the League of Assassins is via fake death, help or the pit, etc. Danny left for a reason that got him away with a new life- he's FUCKED if he goes to his bio dad and his twin brother, he tells himself =͟͟͞͞(꒪ᗜ꒪‧̣̥̇).

Going to Gotham aka the BatFam would blow Danny's cover, getting the attention of the League of Assassins after all this time is definitely not on Danny's to-do list. He's got enough on his plate, thank you :']

So instead, while Danny leaves Amity Park with the help of his friends, he doesn't aim for Gotham, he instead goes to hide in other cities such as Star City, Keystone City, or Central City. Honestly, doesn't even have to be a city, he straight up leaves the country if yall feel like it, guy deserves a break dammit. Can't have laws of legal torture affect you when you're in open seas ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Now cue Danny's pursuers scrambling to find the Halfa, a constant chase- that is until they finally get a photo of Danny, scowling with his green eyes, trying to hide his ghostly traits that mustve leaked through when the photo was taken in Gotham.

They begin to get ready.

It's time to capture the creature once and for all.