#and uh a joke about computation

[janmusija]

Ah, PhD advisor Chalmers, welcome! I hope you're prepared for an unforgettable thesis!

mmhm

oh, ye gods! my matrix multiplication algorithm is ruined! ... but what if I were to use theoretical computer science constructs and disguise them as actual programming?

delightfully devilish, Seymour

uh --

Professor! I was just, uh, using c++ libraries that definitely exist! legitimate programming. Care to join me?

Why is your thesis completely struck out and replaced by illegible scribbles?

um-- oh! those aren't illegible scribbles! They're an algorithm! An algorithm that multiplies matrices in O(n^2log(n)) time!

mm.

Professor, I hope you're prepared for an algorithm that multiplies integer matrices in O(n^2log(n)) time using a turing oracle!

using a turing oracle? I thought you were going to write a computable algorithm

oh, no, I just said "algorithm". I don't assume computability when describing algorithms.

uh huh.

Say, this algorithm has time complexity n^4log(n).

oh, no! you only have to calculate the general form of the queries to the oracle once.

really.

well, what is the information entropy of the input you're giving the oracle?

it's O(1) in the input. It's a very good oracle.

I see. you know, this implementation queries the oracle with natural language rather than asking if a specific turing machine halts.

oh, no, it's not really a turing oracle. It's just an Oracle. It's a thing in some versions of c++.

a turing oracle. In c++.

yes.

yes. And it knows telepathically what you mean by "the product of the matrices" even though you're not mentioning the matrices A or B to it explicitly.

uh-- you know-- one thing I should-- excuse me for one moment

of course.

WELL that was wonderful. I assume you approve of my thesis?

yes, I think it-- well, no? What on earth is happening with the oracle you're using?

it's a real computing oracle.

a r- a real, extant computing oracle? at this abstraction? at this memory bandwidth? executed entirely by a natural language query??

yes.

may i see it?

no.

SEYMOUR, MY IDE SAYS THE TURINGORACLE LIBRARY DOES NOT EXIST

no, colleague, you just don't have the library in your installation of c++

Well, Seymour, you are an odd fellow. But I must say: you write a fast algorithm

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Had to explain to a friend today that No Really I Swear Magneto And Professor X Are Friends And Like Each Other Thats Canon And Real

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

In relation to the doodle I just postedd........ don't mind me I'm just going to be gushing down here in the blow the under the cut.....

(Im FINE I forgot to add the little blushy lines to the drawing I just dont know what to do with my face my facial expressions range from it looks like you're watching a Thomas Sanders skit to I'm internally emoting and i have to announce it outloud just in case.)

I just. Waugh. Somehow drawing two the same height is more of a pain for me than different heights. Digital laso tool I owe you so much.

But for the gushing though. I was thinking about this so hard last night and it occasionally comes in my head, but I chronically wear jackets and hoodies all the time, particularly when I'm leaving the house. And I often of course like to have my hands in my pockets while I walk around. Especially because I always have to be doing something with my hands or else I end up doing that hand pose that I can only describe as the thing that Leni Loud always did from the Loud House because I don't know if there is a term for it. And I am such such such such a horrible sucker for the linked arms thing having arms hooked/intertwined HOWEVER YOU WANNA CALL IT. Messes me up so badly I love it so much. It's like being cuffed together but in the most sweetest way possible. Okay it's like being cuffed together but in that one BBC Sherlock episode where he and John Watson are hand-cuffed together but they're having an awkward time running together and so Watson is like "We are going to have to cordinate" and Sherlock is like "..Okay. Take my hand." And then they are running together while holding hands and there is the most gorgeous shot ever of them being out infront of a bus and. I just love it. Such a little thing but it means so much to me. It's like openly admitting you want someone to just be constantly around you and glued to you, you two can't possibly be away from one another if you two have your arms like that. One person goes to walk in one direction then the other will get tugged with, and if you both go to walk in a different direction then you just get pulled right back towards each other. It's harder to get any possibly physically closer to someone unless you two are like laying on top of each other. It's like saying "I want you here with me through this and this and this and this-". And it is such a notable look as well. You see people with their arms locked and you just know "Okay, those people are probably close to one another." and YES this is different than just having your hand on their arm this is INTERLOCKED.

Bonus points if both people both have their arms in their pockets so they are literally getting each other stuck together. I don't know why this thought gets to me so much but I almost crumbled in the grocery store yesterday. Going shopping with him and if we interlock arms then I am going to be taking up a good five to fifteen minutes of the shopping trip trying to pull myself together from it. Thank you for coming to my esssay and my art showcasing. I would like the government of England to send me my visa now, I'll mail them my passport and biometrics if I must but let me greencard my way to being a UK citizen please and thank you and I would like that under a multiplier of x2 as well please and thank you very much my cell number is 252-555-5555 I can probably relocate in the next 8-12 months depending on how getting a job goes and funding, thank you, I have phenominal potential to become a mechanic I know it because I said so and because I am stupidly passionate as this blog may indicate and I'm sure my alleged FBI agent that monitors me through my screens can also advocate I am also good with customers I have great costomer service because I am a problematic empath so I chronically give people the benefit of the doubt to typically a questionable amount and I also love to ask questions and I know the rule of thumb and agree with the rule of thumb that it is better to ask a stupid question than to outright do something stupid, I am sure I can work up many stupid questions, I unironically love British food and I can go on about that another time but please it all looks like a massive pile of comfort food I am so so okay with that and one of my favorite foods/meals that I got fixated on was out of a tin it was tinned food and I ate it till I can barely stand it anymore but I still look fondly on it now and it was almost as bad as the peanut butter incident where I had so much peanut butter that I actually gag a little at the thought of peanut butter sandwhiches or crackers because I had so much in fact I STILL do a little bi and this happened way back when I was probably like 13 or something and I have a very vivid memory of it was when during they were doing a lot of Back at The Barnyard reruns on cable TV ANYWAY I am also so very good at running my mouth, clients will ask me questions and I will not spare them from a single detail they will know every little thing in fact they will have to ask me to hush, I know my years of expereince are small but my heart is big and my passion is absurd and my potential is strong and I like to think part of me runs off of sheer willpower and determination simply because I must do what I do and I pushmyself many often to do scary things like.... well sometimes I cut off a little extra more cake than I told myself that I would but I eat it anyway even though I get worried I might explode but I never do. I am sure you are a possibly busy government but I can write longer more love letters if it so pleases yes I will be a suck-up if it helps. I am also short which means I am sligghtly smaller than your average man which means I can fit my hands into more places in car enginges. Okaty I am finished now. Sincerly yours, Kane. my last name will also be in my passport which will be given to you with my biometrics and other documents. I also accept simple easy stress-free hand-holding skilled worker visas if that is something you would like. Specifically in, Being a mecahnic. Goodnigth.

[broke-on-books]

the fit's popping, the progress is progressing, my roommate has moved out so now her desk is empty (sweet, free study spot), and i'm about halfway through this essay on nuclear bombs. sweet

only downside is the internet lied to me about hash browns in the dining hall today (absolutely heartbreaking) but i'm resilient and recovered so its okay. just need to finish this paper and clean my room to pack and then i'm DONEEEEEEEEEEEEE

or well technically i also need to submit this one form to be enrolled in an independent study this fall. but that will take like 5 minutes and at most two emails so it's fine we got this

[rotapathetic]

૮ no one laughs at clark’s jokes but you ა

reader works at daily planet ᨳ reader and clark aren’t aware of their mutual attraction to each other

“that’s what the camel said!” clark finished his joke, looking around for a reaction. between you, lois, and jimmy, you were the only one grinning at the joke.

granted, you didn’t understand the punchline, but clark was just so cute as he waited excitedly for a laugh. pen fisted in his hand, both hands raised slightly, gestured outwards like the joke was a magic trick and he just said the magic words. his little lip bite holding in his own laughter certainly couldn’t go unnoticed.

“maybe stick to front page worthy writing?” jimmy teased with an innocent shrug. you quickly turned to glare at him, your eyebrow raise speaking more than enough that you needed him to stop. rude, you mouthed silently. jimmy shrugged again, rolling his chair back to his desk.

clark dropped his hands, his fist tapping on his knee as he glanced down. “yeah, that. . that one wasn’t that good,” he scratched the back of his ear, “. .i should’ve practiced it more.” he attempted a bashful smile, which didn’t reach high, and awkwardly turned back to his computer.

lois, finally speaking up, spoke to clark’s back, “at least you tried?” clark looked over his shoulder, giving a broken nod, and facing back around.

it wasn’t the first instance clark attempted a joke in the office that fell flat on every ear that it reached, whether you were there to hear it or not. every time you were though, you made sure to give clark a smile, no matter if you liked the joke or not. you liked clark. and he was enough to bring on your smile.

this time though, you wanted to actually tell clark you liked his joke. it was the first time you would speak to him, but you’ve garnered up the courage. having no clue, though, that clark only told jokes just to see your smile. what started off as clark genuinely attempting to make his co workers laugh, turned into only wanted to see you laugh after you did at his first joke.

you abandoned your work, rolling your chair next to clark’s. his fingers were typing away on his keyboard, one reaching up to adjust his glasses, and coming back down to repeatedly press the back space.

“hi,” you spoke softly before you could back down. clark turned to you, hands pausing over the keys. “uh. .” he quickly tabbed out of his work like he had something to hide, not sure why he did it, which caused him to even shake his head at his own useless action. “. .hi,” he breathed out, a wider smile than the last forming.

you were momentarily lost in the smile, but quickly remembered your script for this interaction. “i really liked the joke. one of your funniest works.” you smiled back. clark rose a brow, turning his chair towards you, his knees pressing against yours. “really?” he went to rest his head on his first as his put his elbow to his desk, but it only came into contact with his keyboard, which caused him to quickly sit back up. that’s what he got for trying to play it off cool, knowing he was freaking out inside at you speaking to him. and liking his joke, at that.

you giggled at the failed attempt, which clark would have no trouble playing on loop in his head if this was the last time he would hear it it. “yeah. i like all of your jokes. i was just hesitant to tell you, but you’re really funny. and good at what you do, obviously.” you added.

clark opened his mouth to respond, but when his brain told him to tell you that he only made them for you, he quickly shut it and nodded with a smile instead.

you took it as an invitation to continue, “i especially liked the one about the ocean. could you say it again?”

clark blank minded for a second, forgetting every joke he’s ever told. you remembered what he said? you were actually paying attention? you didn’t just nod to get the conversation over and walk away like people usually did? clark didn’t know what to do with the newfound attention and knowledge that his make-a-joke-every-day-to-get-her-to-laugh plan worked.

“oh, um. what did the ocean do to the sand when it left for the day?” clark asked, chuckling at your confused face as you tapped your chin, pretending to think. “i don’t know, clark. what did the ocean do?”

clark bit his lip, leaning in closer like he was telling you a secret. “it waved goodbye.”

your laugh was abrupt and louder than you intended, you quickly slapping a hand over your mouth. you still continued to giggle behind your hand, eyes scrunching. and clark laughed with you, still leaned in close, savoring this moment that was just between you two.

you laughter dulled down, and you lowered your hand, shaking your head. “how do you come up with them?”

clark’s laughter was cut short at the question. well, he definitely couldn’t say he started off googling how to make a girl laugh then found a website full of jokes, writing them in his journal, and repeating them in his head before bed to memorize them and recite at work at the hopes you would hear.

“um. . some sitcom that i watch. . you wouldn’t know it,” clark rushed to add just in case you asked for the name. he is not good at making things up on the spot.

“nice. . could i ask you a favor?” clark was nodding before you finished your sentence. anything. whatever you want. whatever you don’t want. whatever you need. whatever you don’t need. yes, a million times over. how do you say yes in every language?

“sure,” clark responded instead.

“watch more episodes when you get home so i can hear another joke tomorrow?” you hesitantly asked.

this was the last joke clark had memorized so he would have to spend the night memorizing new ones. and excitedly so he would. now he couldn’t wait for the work day to be over so he could shove his face in his journal and repeat lines to himself over and over as he made dinner, picked out his outfit for tomorrow, brush his teeth, and lie in bed with his bedside lamp turned on, muttering jokes into the empty space.

but he couldn’t mention that either. so he nodded and instead said, “sure.”

[francixoxoxo]

must be a secret admirer!

clark kent x reporter!reader

Clark is even worse at hiding your workplace relationship than he was at hiding his massive crush on you. A recounting of three times where Clark nearly gives the two of you away, just because his loverboy self can’t help it.

wc ; 1.5k

The morning had been frazzling, to say the least.

You woke up late due to someone snoozing your alarm, and barely had time to scarf down some maple-flavored microwave oats and run out the door. You didn’t even have a chance to get coffee on the way to work, as you usually treat yourself to. With the cranial pressure of an incoming headache you down some Ibuprofen and push the door to The Daily Planet open with your shoulder.

Clark’s desk is empty, that checks out; when you left he was still just in pajama pants and following you around the apartment with a toothbrush hanging from his mouth, like a puppy dog on your heels. Super-speed left time to get ready, after all. You didn’t have that luxury. Just as you resign yourself to force down some of the disgusting brown poison that so happened to come from the newsroom’s coffee machine, a gentle tap at the corner of your desk makes you turn from your computer.

A paper hot-coffee cup. Presented with a boyish, sweeter-than-chocolate smile from none other than Clark, the expression creasing his eyes and flashing his dimples. “White chocolate mocha,” he announces, as if you need to confirm his memory of your coffee order. You’re just about to thank him a thousand times before Jimmy rolls out from behind his desk on his chair, huffing.

“You get any for us?” He gestures to Lois and himself. Clark stammers, taken aback, and grasps the strap of his book bag. You freeze, catching the suspicion on Lois’s face when you meet her eye. Or maybe she’s just trying to figure out if you trimmed your hair since yesterday (impulsively, you did, so maybe you’re off the hook). But the prospect that she might be onto you is jarring. It’s just that, you’ve been trying to keep you and Clark.. secret.

That sounded kind of bad, put so bluntly, but it’s what it was. All the weird HR things that came with office relationships, all the questions and terrible jokes (which 90% of would just be Jimmy), all the awkwardness from your coworkers if things didn’t work. Well, you were certain it would, but still. Precautions. A sort of shield against all the crappy parts of all your coworkers watching your relationship play out at your 9 to 5.

“Uh, I just— she— said she wanted… coffee. Earlier.” It takes everything in you to not pinch the bridge of your nose. Instead, you bring the cup to your lips and take a gratifying sip, smiling up at Clark. He really was the perfect boyfriend, not despite but maybe because of his dorkiness. He knew he made you late; and so he was making it up to you. Even when you weren’t necessarily angry at him for it. If he could make your day better, he would, that was just the type of man he was.

“Thank you.” Oh, that golden-boy smile he throws you, like he’s happy you’re even looking his way, it’s so worth the heart attack he just gave you.

꒰ঌ ໒꒱

You were pretty good at keeping secrets. Clark, not so much.

He waits by your desk until you finish a few last keystrokes before lunch, walks out and reenters with you. Doesn’t even think twice about the fact that his name is printed on the order-sticker on your coffee cup every morning. Waits maybe three seconds after breaching the doors of The Daily Planet before he’s grasping your hand.

Anybody with eyes can tell something is up, something different from the norm of Clark being so obviously head over heels for the girl whose desk is across a not-so-divisive glass divider from his. He talks to you almost all day, but just as suspiciously, you come to him with questions before anybody else.

As he pushes you up against the wall of the single-stall bathroom (he’d been hesitant, saying, “what if somebody has to go?”, to which you just tugged him by the tie and locked the door with the other hand,) you tell him as much. “Clark, we gotta be more—“ You’re cut off by a sweet press of his lips against yours. “—we should be more careful.”

“aren’t you the one who dragged me in here?“ he isn’t wrong, you are the one who got all wound up by the subtle manspread Clark pulled as he sat in his chair, legs falling open while he was humoring Jimmy’s rambling ideas.

“Shut up. How about— how about you leave a few minutes before I do?”

Yeah, very sound plan. Except that Clark just parks maybe.. ten feet away from the door, leaning against the passenger’s side door because he’d be damned if he let you open the door for yourself. But that’s besides the point; later, once Clark pulls his pants back up, buckling his belt and pushing up his glasses by the bridge, he smiles at you crookedly. “You look kind of.. like a mess.”

You look yourself in the mirror, chest still heaving from, well, Clark fucking you against the work-bathroom wall. You flatten down your hair and comb it with your fingernails. “So do you, supes.” It’s an adorable sight, your boyfriend peering at his reflection and fixing himself from behind you, your head only coming up to about his chest.

It’s a less adorable and more horrifying sight, when later in the day, you spot a dark spot peaking out from underneath his crisp white collar. Clark must’ve clocked your wide eyes over the top of his computer because he looks up, and furrows his brows. You sharply gesture to his collar, mouthing, cover-up!

Clark just frowns, squinting like he doesn’t know what you mean. You make a wild show of mock-pulling-up your collar, and it has to be noticeable, because you can see Jimmy breaking his neck to see in your peripheral. “Woah, woah, Clark.” He guffaws, backtracking and standing too close.

“What?” Lois calls, a few feet away at her desk. Clark’s gotten the point far too late and adjusts his collar with a bashful smile to you.

“Clark’s got a hickey!” Jimmy claps him on a shoulder. “Geez, man. Didn’t know you were getting up to it like that.”

“It’s— it’s nothing, really,” Clark mumbles, trying to get back to his work. Poor thing, his ears are pinkened and his cheeks are rosy from all the attention. Lois is laughing, raising her eyebrows at you— it takes a moment for you to calm and realize she’s just trying to share in the joke, not question if you’re the culprit.

You smile, chewing on the end of your pen before gesturing it to Clark. “Not so good at hiding it, huh?” Those baby blues flick up to you shyly to the untrained eye, but you can see the indignation in them. That’s how it is? But there’s no real challenge, in fact, there’s a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his full lips.

Clark pushes up his glasses and turns back to his computer, muttering without any bite, “..Shut up.”

꒰ঌ ໒꒱

You had a bad night. It’s not anything Clark had done, you were just in a terrible mood right up until you fell asleep with your ear to his chest. He tried to lighten it up, made you dinner, offered to shower with you, and quietly put on your favorite TV show when you declined. All he could really do, and all you needed him to do, was hold you.

The next morning is much of the same. You hate that you feel so bad without any justifiable reason; maybe your period was coming up, maybe it was the dead-end article you were frustrated with. Whatever the reason, almost instantly the heaviness in your chest is lifted when you enter the office and lock eyes with the flowers on your desk.

Peonies, your favorite. Wrapped in newspaper with a note tucked underneath. You let out a soft sigh, allowing a raw smile to spread over your cheeks and even crease your eyes. The moment you look up, you see Clark’s face staring back at you, that golden-boy grin dimpling his cheeks. You knew without reading the note that they were from him, but for good measure, you check the familiar handwriting.

I love you, ♾️. - Clark

It certainly brightens your morning, as you dig out your old glass vase from your desk that you long-since gave up on keeping filled with flowers. Clark doesn’t say a word to you, but at your shy smile, he tosses you a wink that shouldn’t heat your cheeks as much as it does. You tuck the note half-under the vase as you get to work, or atleast try to.

“These are gorgeous,” Lois’ familiar voice chimes from over your shoulder. When you look up at her, she’s cocking a brow. You glance at your boyfriend across your desk.

“Oh, yeah, aren’t they?” you chuckle lightly, trying to play them off, but Jimmy’s caught wind by now.

“Who’re they from?” Jimmy calls from his desk. You want to get up and smack him— does he ever get any work done, or does he just try to unearth your suspiciously-Clark-shaped secret all day? “Is there a note?”

“uh— no!“ almost helplessly you look to Clark, who’s dark brows are lifted and lips already forming an “o”. Superman to the rescue.

“Must be a secret admirer!” he blurts, drawing Lois’ attention away from the note poking out from under the vase. Well.. there have been better rescues. She doesn’t look convinced as she eyes you.

But, with a shrugged, “If you wanna call it secret,” and a gentle plop of a file you asked for on your desk, she turns. Fuck. You blow the air out your cheeks. Why was office romance such work to keep on the low? Or maybe it wasn’t the fact that it was in the office, maybe it was just the fact that it was with the horrible liar and awful secret-keeper, Clark Kent. The latter was almost ironic; a man who kept an entire secret identity couldn’t hide who he was dating.

But just as you begin to cut him some slack (aided by his sweet, apologetic smile across the desk divider from you,) Jimmy hollers from your right. “Geez, Clark, if you’re gonna send your girlfriend flowers, why don’t you leave a note?”

Clark’s blue eyes blow almost comically wide, his jaw slackens and you want to absolutely pummel him for not just being conspicuous, but cartoonishly so. Instead of even denying it, your boyfriend stumbles over his words, “How— how did you know?”

“We’ve known since May,” Lois calls from her computer. “You two are like, disgustingly, repulsively, gagging-ly, really-fucking-obviously cute. It’s a real workplace hazard.”

“But—“ You just lie your forehead in your palm. So much for secret. Clark goes on, “We’ve been so secretive about it!” You throw him a look, and he lifts his brows for effect, throwing up his hands. You can’t help a breathless chuckle.

“I literally saw you put the flowers on her desk this morning.” you can almost hear the eye-roll in Jimmy’s voice. Clark gives you another, apologetic smile. How could you ever stay mad at your dork boyfriend?

“Sorry. I really thought I was doing pretty good.”

“Oh, well. You tried, Clark.” He nods very seriously. He tried hiding his affection as much as a loverboy could, you have to give him that. Clark looks at his work for barely a second before lowering his voice sheepishly.

“. . . Do you like the flowers?”

“Awh, I love them.” Clark flashes you a boyish grin, and you’re vaguely reminded of a puppy-dog. You hear a mock-gagging sound from over your shoulder, but you couldn’t care less anymore. Keeping your admirer secret wasn’t as important as you thought it was.

[sweetheartspence]

✰ mind over matter - s.r. ✰

Spencer thinks you hate him. That couldn't be further from the truth.

pairing: spencer reid x bau!reader

genre: fluff

content: idiots in love, a little bit of miscommunication, reader is anxious, gn!reader i think, mutual pining, garcia the matchmaker, not proofread

wc: 1.4k

a/n: in second person this time :) i hope you all enjoy, let me know your thoughts! requests are open :D likes and reblogs appreciated! dividers by @/saradika-graphics - thank you!

Spencer is not good for your head.

Every time he's in the room, your brain stops working. Just- flatlines. No activity. All you can do is stare, stumble over yourself, blush, and eventually flee from the room in a panic.

It's his fault, really. With his stupid big brown eyes and his stupid hair and his stupid hands and his stupid voice, and the way his eyebrow crinkles at the halfway point when he's thinking really hard about something. And the way the corners of his mouth turn down when he's thought of something that he thinks is funny, but thinks no one else will find amusing, and the way that his collar is never quite straight. He's always around, always trying to strike up conversation, and it's infuriating.

Not because you don't want to talk to him. Because you do. Because you do, and you can't.

You're stirring a spoonful of sugar into your second cup of tea of the day when Spencer walks into the break room. His collar is slightly askew, his purple tie a little bit crooked (and, you think, knotted wrong), and he's carrying his mug. You know it's his because it's patterned with the periodic table. If that wasn't a dead giveaway, it's specially labelled with his name on the bottom.

He flashes you a smile, and your heart seizes. You're pretty sure you look like a deer in headlights, your eyes wide and a little panicked.

Spencer stops in front of you, and you're pretty sure you've died. You've died, and this is your heaven- or purgatory, maybe, since you still can't get your mouth to work.

"You're standing in front of the coffee maker." His voice is smooth and uncertain, a little amused, matching the quirk of his lips.

Your mind blue screens. "That- I- um, yeah. I am." You make no motion to move, and he tilts his head, like a curious puppy.

"Would you, um... mind moving?" Spencer asks, blinking at you. You let out a squeak, and duck out of the way, your cheeks beginning to flame.

"Sorry! I, uh, that's- yeah." You manage, intelligently, before bolting out of the break room and back to your desk. You've just gotten to your desk when you realize that you've forgotten your tea in the break room, freshly brewed and now abandoned on the counter. You sigh, pushing your chair back, making your way over to Garcia's lair of computers.

Spencer is pretty sure you hate him.

You're decently new to the BAU, having been there under a year, and at first, he thought you were jut shy. You were awkward around the entire team, not just him. But as the weeks passed, you became smiley, articulate, and entirely endearing, with everyone except for him.

With him, you're... different, to say the least. He clearly makes you uncomfortable, if the flushed cheeks and inability to meet his eye is anything to go by. There's moments he thinks he might be getting through to you, when you nod along with one of his statistics during briefings, or try to hide a smile at one of his nerdy jokes. But then he tries to talk to you directly, and you shut down again.

And Spencer just had to develop feelings for you. The one person in his life that can't stand being in the same room as him for longer than necessary. He's not the type to spend time and energy on people who clearly don't want to be around him, but you... there's something different about you.

When he approaches you in the break room, you give your stuttered answer, followed by your usual quick departure. He hadn't even wanted coffee, if he was being completely honest. He had just wanted a chance to talk to you.

Spencer sighs, leaning his hands on the counter and hanging his head. And then he notices your tea, left on the counter. He glances into the bullpen, but you're not at your desk. Spencer hesitates, before picking up the mug and bringing it over to your desk. He takes one of the pens out of your cup, a purple one, and writes a quick note, leaving it with your tea.

"You need to figure out how to talk to him," Garcia is saying, but you're barely listening, having heard this spiel at least a dozen times from her. You roll your eyes.

"I'm trying, Pen, I am," you mumble, fidgeting with one of the trinkets she has proudly displayed on her desk. "It's like I lose all control of my mouth when I'm around him. I can't... make it work." You set the trinket down, sitting back in your seat.

Garcia sighs, clicking her tongue. "The two of you are hopeless, honestly," she mutters, her manicured nails clicking on her keyboard.

You wrinkle your nose indignantly, giving her a look. "What? No," you protest. "We work fine together, so it's not like it even matters."

"You do," she agrees, looking over at you for a second and wiggling her eyebrows. "But you could work together so much better. And in much different ways."

Her innuendo isn't lost on you, and you narrow your eyes. "What, you think this stupid crush is even going to go anywhere?" You grumble.

"He likes you too." It's not a question, but a definitive statement. You blink.

"He told you that?" You ask.

"Well, no, but..." Garcia trails off for a moment, tapping a nail against her teeth. "C'mon, we can all tell. You need to just-"

"Okay, well, thank you for your delusions," you interrupt, pushing your chair back and standing up. "Gotta get back to work. You know how it is."

"Not delusions," she calls back, as you start to walk back to the bullpen. "Observations."

You consider this as you walk back. Observations. Maybe he feels it too? Or maybe, you've ruined any chance you might have had by being completely socially inept around him. Would it even change anything if you knew he liked you? Would you be able to make your mouth work, say something that didn't sound like you were speaking English for the first time?

You're still pondering the possibility when you sit down at your desk.

There's a mug. Your mug. And a note.

"Sorry for scaring you out of the break room. You forgot something. S.R."

You stare at the note, at the purple pen, at the loops and smudges on the paper. There's a smiley face haphazardly drawn in the bottom corner, and it's so Spencer that it makes your heart ache.

That's it, you decide. You have to do something.

In an uncharacteristic show of bravery, you take a breath, pushing back from the chair and standing up, making your way over to his desk. Spencer is bent over a case file, his glasses low on the bridge of his nose.

"You didn't," you say, a bit too loudly, and you finch at the volume of your own voice. Spencer startles, looking up from his work.

"What?"

"You didn't," you repeat, at a more normal volume. You can feel your cheeks start to burn, but you push on. "Scare me. Out of the break room, I mean."

He blinks up at you owlishly. "Oh. Then why did you-"

"I like you," you blurt. You can't help it. The blush creeps down your neck, across your chest under your sweater. Spencer stares. "Like, I like like you. Which make me sound like I'm in third grade, but I just-" You let out a heavy breath, your shoulders shrugging helplessly. "I get all tongue tied, around you. You make me... you make me nervous." Your voice gets quieter as you go on, and Spencer's heart swells.

"Yeah?" He asks, tilting his head, fighting back a smile.

"Yeah," you manage, nodding meekly. "And you don't have to... say anything. I just wanted you to... to know." You turn on your heel, then, intending to go back to your desk, but a hand catches yours. Spencer's slender fingers wrap around your wrist, halting you in place.

"Your tea is probably cold by now," Spencer says, his voice soft. His gaze is intense, but gentle, full of affection. "Let me buy you a new one."

Butterflies flood through your stomach, and you manage a very shy smile, giving a little nod. "Um, like... just hanging out, or.."

He laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Like a date. If you'd want."

You nod again, completely breathless. "Yeah. Yeah, um.. that's good. Great, even. Yeah."

"I think we're gonna have to work on these nerves around me," Spencer teases. He smiles at you, soft and fond, and tugs on your hand.

"Let's get you that tea."

[vamplvs]

warnings -> jimmy olsen x fem!reader, a hint of jealousy, no superman (2025) spoilers!

clark is infuriatingly perfect. he's tall, broad, too sweet for his own good, charming, and jimmy is sick of it.

not that he's actually sick of clark—the guy's his best friend—but he's sick of the way clark has been effortlessly stealing your attention since you've started working at the daily planet.

you're always bantering with him and laughing at his jokes, getting into silly hypothetical debates about metahumans and discussing aliens. and when jimmy rolls around to join the conversation—because he likes talking about that stuff, dammit—you go quiet every time, without fail.

clark gives you this look every time, like he knows something jimmy doesn't. it drives him up the wall.

"want some coffee, clark?" he hears you ask from your desk—which is conveniently situated right next to clark's, because of course it is.

"uh, yeah, that'd be great, thanks."

jimmy looks over to see you taking clark's mug with a smile that makes his heart do something funny in his chest. he frowns and turns back to his computer, his own mug long empty on his desk.

what's the harm in getting coffee for himself, too?

so he follows after you to the break room, mug in hand.

"how's that new article going?" he asks, and you nearly jump out of your skin. "shit- sorry, i didn't mean to scare you."

"no, no, you didn't." the coffee maker clicks and whirs as it spits out a fresh pot. "it's, um, fine."

"right, yeah." jimmy rocks back on his heels. "clark mentioned that you might need some pictures of the justice gang fight downtown. i have a few that just need editing." he actually overheard you and clark talking about it earlier, but he's not willing to admit to eavesdropping, honestly.

he can't admit that he's that obsessed.

then the coffee maker beeps, and you're racing to pour out two cups. "oh, sure. that'd be great." you're gone before he can get a word in edgewise.

"i'll just email those to you, then!" he calls after you.

despite all the sugar he puts in his own coffee, it still goes bitter on his tongue when he walks back to his desk to see you and clark giggling like schoolgirls. your eyes meet jimmy's for just a moment, and his heart stutters.

clark looks over his shoulder at him and then back to you and prods your shoulder playfully. you swat his hand away and mutter something to him with a roll of your eyes.

moment officially ruined.

god, this whole "crushing on his coworker" thing is getting old fast, and you've only been here for a month.

he spends the rest of his day editing those photos for you, making sure that they look as good as possible. he picks out the clearest ones he has of the fight and the aftermath—he got one with that mr. terrific guy and all his tech that he's particularly proud of.

"man, how do you do it?" jimmy asks, after you head out for the day.

"do what?" clark spins around in his chair and furrows his brow.

"seriously?" and clark has the gall to shrug. "it's like every girl here fawns over you."

"they aren't fawning over me, jimmy." clark gestures to two of the interns who are very much staring at jimmy. he waves awkwardly back, and they giggle.

"yeah, but the new girl is."

"is not."

"is too!"

"i promise you, she is not." clark spins around in his chair to face his desk again with a roll of his eyes.

"then explain all of the giggling and the lingering looks and the coffee!" jimmy gestures exasperatedly at the mug on clark's desk. "she doesn't get me coffee."

"maybe she's just quieter than the interns," clark says with a shrug.

"yeah, quieter with me, not you."

clark looks at him like he's said something ridiculous and sighs. "maybe it's for the best that you're a photographer and not an investigative journalist."

"what's that supposed to mean?" jimmy crosses his arms defensively.

"c'mon, i didn't mean it like that. just-" clark pauses, like he's trying to find the right words. "you're not asking the right questions, is all."

"not the right-" then it dawns on him with all the subtlety of a brick being flung against his skull. "oh."

"yeah, oh." clark laughs then, and shuts his laptop. he makes quick work of packing his things up while jimmy stands by his desk, visibly buffering.

-

okay, so maybe jimmy is awkward the next morning. maybe he fumbles around the coffee maker for a little longer than strictly necessary in the hopes that you'll walk into the break room. maybe he looks at you for a little longer than strictly necessary, waiting for his shot.

clark is very obviously trying to hold back his laughter when he catches jimmy doing it, and lois does the same—betrayal of the century. he seriously told her, too?

you, on the other hand, seem entirely unaware. you wave politely to jimmy, thank him for the pictures, and continue on your day, business as usual.

this might just be worse than believing you were into clark.

because now he's caught off guard, has had the rug pulled from under him, and he figures it's best not to ask you out in front of the entire office.

but he wants to, dammit. he's itching to talk to you, to make you laugh, to take you out for dinner—or lunch, or to the movies. he'll take anything, really.

he finally gets his shot during clark's lunch break, he rolls his chair over to your desk. the office is mostly empty, except for you, jimmy, and a handful of interns—most people are out getting lunch, really. so, it seems like a great time.

he takes great pride in the small smile you shoot him as he approaches.

"hypothetically, if you were going on a date, where would you go?" he prompts with a grin.

your smile is gone in an instant, replaced by a confused furrow of your brow. "what?"

"y'know, hypothetically."

"uh, i guess the park downtown. why?" in his own head, jimmy cheers. he loves that park.

"okay, so, you want to go there this weekend with me?"

"sorry- me?" you point to yourself like you're not sure he's actually talking to the right person, and jimmy, frankly, has never been more confused.

"yeah...?" why wouldn't it be you?

"this isn't some kind of joke, right? like, clark didn't put you up to this or anything?" he watches with a furrowed brow as you look over your shoulder for any sign of clark.

"um, no?" jimmy is lost, totally and utterly lost. why would clark put him up to this?

"this isn't, like, practice for them?" you point to the interns who have been watching the entire interaction with rapt attention.

"no, i'm pretty sure i'm asking you out."

your confusion melts back into a small, embarrassed smile. he grins back at you. "oh, then, yeah, i'd like that."

"great, i'll pick you up on saturday?"

"sounds great, jimmy." you mirror his wide grin.

he drums his hands on his legs and spins his chair back to his own desk. his heart his racing in his chest, and he can't tamp down his own smile—even when perry calls jimmy into his office to interrogate him about deadlines and photo ops.

when he sees clark laughing with you later and spots the wide-eyed look he gets when you catch him watching, something in his chest flutters. and maybe he's a little embarrassed when clark laughs even harder.

[lexus-k4]

Dp x DC ideas/prompt

I've read many fan fics and storries where Danny is refered to as "the danger twink" and it got me thinking. What if Danny was an extreme danger twink where when you look at him you don't think he is even capable of looking or being a danger twink let alone and extreme danger twink.

It would go something like this:

*Danny, had his accident at an earlier age so younger than 14, his halfa status makes him grow slower so his 'puberty' would be in his like late teens to early 20's , Danny had bad neglectful parents so he doesn't look the best but in Amity he had somewhat of a food intake with fast food, Sam, Tucker and jazz. Trained in martial arts by Maddie Fenton, and jazz taught him psychology stuff unintentionally, jack Fenton taught him how to properly throw punches and his fights with the ghosts caused him to research human weak points and how to use them to his advantage before he realised not all of them worked on ghosta.*

-now you have a 14 year old Danny, after whatever accident or plot got him to Gotham, looks like he's maybe 12-13, extremely malnourished, looks pale and sickly, has his left arm clearly wrapped in bandages covering an injury and neck (compression bandages for damaged nerves from accident electrocution but no one knows that), cold to the touch probably because of whatever sickness he has and overall looking horrible, and is in a situation of attempted kidnapping, mugging or trafficking every other night or whatever-

Random guy with a knife: hey kid, you better do what I say or you'll be meeting the afterlife sooner rather than later.

Danny aware of his miss leading appearance and just fed up: been there done that, did you know that the after life is green. Oh and there's no choice where you go. Satan's more annoying than scary, like he's got these big horns on his head but-

Random guy confused as fuck: what? - no, I'm not joking. You better follow me or I will have to use force.

Danny: mmmmmm.nuh-uh.

Random guy: ... The fuck you mean nuh-uh?!

Danny: I mean. Nuh-uh. Now good bye. *promptly charges at the guy, disarms the knife from his hand and tosses him over his shoulder despite being like twice his height and throws a well placed kick to his head so he's knocked out.*

RedHood and Nightwing who were hanging out on a mission following traffickers, on top of the roof of one of the buildings overlooking the alleyway this happened in-

Nightiwnt: I'm not seeing things right? That kid just threw that guy like it was nothing... Right?

Red hood: I... Yeah? I mean... Huh?

...

Red Robin having a run in with Danny who again got caught in some random guys attempt to take him or mug him or something. And just as red Robin jumps down to help Danny had already sweeped the guys legs and knocked him unconscious: wait what?

Danny: oh. Hi. I uhhh... He started it. *points at the unconscious guy*

Red Robin: huh?

...

*the bats and birds in the cave, having a meeting because most of them have had a run in with this supposedly 'danger twink' and Oracle showing what ever street camera footage they found of the many times this kid has done something that made no sense like Russian suplexing a mugger, knocking out a group of 4 ppl when they attempted to kidnap him and so on*

Batman: how many of you guys have met him so far?

Nightwing: me, Hood, red Robin and Spoiler. And Signal I believe.

Signal: yeah, I heard some comotions and when I went to check I just saw the kid stood in an alley surrounded by about 3 unconscious bodies and 2 guys holding a knife and a bat looking like they were about to soil their pants...

Batman pinches his nose bridge and is about to speak before Oracle speaks over and pops up on the bat computer.

Oracle: sorry to interrupt, but I just spotted this kid again, and this times it's in clear footage. But this is different. He's not attacking just... Talking? Oh, wait no... Worse he's mentally attacking and psycho-analyzing. Ther is audio.

Oracle puls up a feed and the bats and birds proceed to watch a live feed of Danny verbally chewing out what looks to be a mLe adult holding a gun that still has its safety on, a male teen holding a knife and a female teen holding a duffle of what is assumed to be full of stolen items. The adult proceeds to start crying as he goes to the floor and starts rocking hinself, followed by the male teen collapses to the floor having an existential critics covering his ears then the girl follows with her face covered in tears as she proceeds to have a therapy session with Danny and Danny just helps back as she just spills every detail about her life and struggles all while sobbing heavily.

Red Hood: ... Can I just say... I am actually scared of this kid... Like... He scares me...

Nightwing: ... I don't even know what to say.

Signal: ... I think I like him.

Red Robin: I don't wanna risk being on the receiving end.

Robin: that is a good attack method...

Spoiler: ... Yeah I agree with Hood.

Batman: .... *heavy sigh*

Orphan/Batgirl: New brother :D

Sorry for any spelling mistakes.

[xedeon]

You bouta have ALL my babies ♡ Multiple blue lock

.ᐟcw: suggestive, mentions of doing it, mentions of pregnancy, fluffy stupidness

Isagi Yoichi

He FREEZES. Like mid-bite of his sandwich, just blinking at you. You casually go, “Yeah... I’m marrying you. You’re about to have all my babies.” Isagi short-circuits. “HUH?!”

Face bright red, ears burning, sandwich forgotten. “B-Babies?! Now?! You can’t just— I mean—” He fidgets, rubbing the back of his neck, flustered but clearly thinking about it way too seriously now.

Later that night, he hugs you way too tight while mumbling, "…wouldn't mind though. You’d look really cute pregnant..."

Shidou Ryusei

You say it once, and this man immediately pulls you into his lap. Grinning all sharp and wide, eyes glinting mischievously. "Oh? Is that right, princess?"

You can feel how excited he instantly gets against you. "Then c'mere," he whispers against your neck, voice low and rough. "Let's get started on that army, huh? Hope you’re ready to be walking funny tomorrow."

He’s so serious about it you have to literally scramble away before he acts on it immediately.

Alexis Ness

You say it so casually while he’s fixing his hair. And poor Ness just short-circuits. Goes beet red and drops his comb. "Wh-what?! Babies?! Marrying?! U-Uh—uhm!!"

He frantically tries to fix his hair again even though his hands are shaking.

Would 100% start nervously rambling about how he needs to start planning everything— "Where would we live? Would you want a pet too? O-Or a garden? Maybe we could—!"

You just giggle while he’s literally spiraling, thinking about your entire married life together. "you're so cute, baby!" you squeal, hugging him

Rin Itoshi

You’re chilling together, scrolling through your phone, and you just casually mumble, "Yeah, I’m marrying you. You’re gonna give me all your babies." Rin CHOKES on his water. Then glares at you, cheeks tinted pink.

"Shut up," he grumbles—but he can’t meet your eyes and the tips of his ears are bright red.

Later, when you're dozing off on the couch, he whispers, “.. 's not like I'd mind...” and presses a kiss to your temple.

Michael Kaiser

Kaiser would smirk like the cockiest mf alive. "Really, princess? Can't blame you, schatz." He’d grab your chin gently and make you look at him. "All my babies, hm?"

He says it mockingly, but the way his voice drops an octave... you KNOW he's taking it seriously. He’d lean in real close and whisper against your lips, "If you want it that bad... I'll fill you up right now, hübsches Mädchen." (You’re not escaping without getting absolutely ruined.)

Sae Itoshi

You say it after he does something mundane—like handing you your favorite snack without being asked, or casually fixing your computer like it was nothing. You're half-joking, dramatic on purpose. But Sae freezes mid-step. "…What?"

You grin. “You ‘bout to have all my babies, Sae. I’m locking this down.” He stares at you like you’ve grown another head. Then scoffs, shaking his head. “…Tch. You’re annoying.” But the tips of his ears are red.

Later, when you're curled up next to him watching a movie, he mumbles under his breath, “You’d probably look good with my babies…”

(He thinks about it for days. And suddenly starts pulling out less. )

Bachira Meguru

You say it while he’s being cute. Like handing you your favorite hoodie or offering you a weird snack combo only he would think of. You go full dramatic “Meguru. I’m marrying you. You’re about to have ALL my babies.” He gasps, eyes sparkling.

“All of them?! Even the chaos goblin ones??” Then he tackles you onto the couch, giggling.

"You really wanna be stuck with me forever, huh~?"

Later, he doodles a lil stick-figure family on your arm with hearts and writes “Future Bachira babies” in Sharpie.

Taglist:@samm1e13 @demiitria @syleepy @chaoslibra @bontenxo @pinkymangacaps @riinniies @samthesimp1 @sapphireluv @s4turnx1 @nevvynev @cookiesandcreammy @rinniebinniebay @ravenbc @kamelika @luvsymai @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @silverwings920 @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @yanderebluelockfan @valexqpt @bigclownshoes @rinniewinnie787 @satorella @sillykittiessss

A/n: This made me giggle, lol

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[Masterlist]

[hurtspideyparker]

Peter places an envelope on Tony's desk.

Tony looks up confused, "huh? What's that for?"

"It's for you," he points awkwardly at the plain blue envelope, held closed with a Darth Vader sticker.

"It's not my birthday kid." He snaps the protective face shield back down as he picks up his soldering iron, sparks flying as he gets back to work.

"I know that I, uh. It's from, it's for. It's yours. I gotta go, see you later Mr. Stark!" Peter hikes his backpack up tighter as he skips out of the lab.

Tony grunts in acknowledgement without looking up, eyes focused on the searing metal in front of him.

* * *

"Tony? I thought you were gonna have dinner with me after Peter left," Pepper saunters down into the workspace in a flattering pair of jeans and baby blue blouse.

"I was. I am. He left like five minutes ago," Tony waves at her without taking his eyes from the computer he's typing on.

"Happy drove him home two hours ago. Come, have a nice sit down meal with me." Pepper wraps her arms around his shoulders from behind, kissing the top of his head.

"I can have a sit down meal. I'm sitting right now, bring the carbonara down here and it'll be a proper date," Tony replies.

"Yeah, you me and your computer. How romantic. Tony, come upstairs- what's this?"

Tony glances up to see her holding a blue envelope.

"Uh, it's the kids."

Pepper flips it around, "it says To Mr. Stark From Peter on the back."

Tony just shrugs and goes back to typing on his computer.

The delicate glue of the sticker is undone under Pepper's sharp nails as she opens up the envelope and pulls something from inside.

"It's illegal to open someone else's mail y'know," Tony teases.

"Tony this- god you are such an asshole!" Pepper smacks Tony on the back of the head with the envelope.

"Ow! What the- what did I do now! I was just joking about the carbonara thing... mostly."

Tony finally meets Pepper's eyes of scorn. She tosses something in front of him with a huff.

"Tony, he even used a Darth Vader sticker. Do you know how adorably geeky and topical that is? You have got to start paying more attention to the living breathing people in front of you instead of your machines. Dinner is ready, please come upstairs."

Tony watches her leave as the clack of her heels fade away with every step. He's not sure what Darth Vader has to do with missing dinner, but he's quick to get up and start to follow.

He pauses before he makes it out the door, turning to finish the last line of code before he forgets the function. He pushes something off of his keyboard to type and press save.

Tony can't remember the last time he looked up from his work long enough to consume solid food. He's so ready to carb-load with some Italian food, turning away from the computer and blue envelope.

Tony's eyebrows furrow. Hm. Darth Vader sticker.

Tony turns back around and picks up the envelope from beside his keyboard.

This must be what the kid was yapping about earlier. Tony sticks his hand inside and finds a card, pulling it out.

"Father's Day it is," the front says in bold lettering with a picture of Yoda crudely hand-drawn with a sharpie and green highlighter. Tony flips it open, "celebrate you we must" is written in the middle of the page.

Below is a message in smaller writing; "Thank you for everything Mr. Stark, we wouldn't be here without you!" with a blob of sharpie that looks suspiciously like it's scribbled out a small heart, then signed "From Peter, Dum-E and U" each name written in their own unique handwriting.

"Friday, what day is it?"

"It is Sunday June 16th, also celebrated as Father's Day in countries such as the United States, Canada, and the UK."

Hm.

Tony stands there and stares at the card for longer than he'd ever admit before looking up at Dum-E.

"You help with this?" he asks, pointing at the card.

Dum-E chirps happily, twirling his claw around.

"Your hand writing's terrible."

* * *

Peter enters the lab slowly, an unsureness to him that's out of character.

It's Wednesday, his usual day for coming over to Tony's workshop. He hasn't heard anything from Tony since Sunday, not that he usually does. Still, the quietness has unnerved him. He's not sure what he was even expecting from his mentor; silence is probably the nicest response he could hope for after embarrassing himself like that.

"Hi Mr. Stark," he greets once he spots the older man sitting next to a complicated tangle of wires.

"Hey kid, can you go to the computer and run the command I have open for me?"

"Sure thing!" Peter says as he dumps his backpack onto the floor and jogs over.

The two get into an easy rhythm and Peter's practically forgotten why he was nervous in the first place when, "hey grab us some sodas will you," Mr. Stark asks him.

Peter walks up to the fridge in the corner of the room when he notices something new.

In the center of the silver metal lies a single piece of paper, stuck to the refrigerator with a plain magnet seemingly scrapped from some old hardware in the lab.

Tony has his Father's Day card displayed like some dorky parent whose kid got a half-decent report card, showcased on a fridge like a toddler's finger painted masterpiece.

It makes Peter so happy he can't wipe the stupid grin off his face the entire time he's grabbing sodas and delivering one to Tony.

The older hums a thanks without looking away from his project, but as Peter turns away Tony's own face contorts into a pleased smile all of his own.

The two share identical smiles all afternoon, hidden behind soda cans and computer screens.

[incorrectbatfam]

Have you seen the tiktok going around that's a guy talking to his kids like "The more you sass me, the more I'm gonna flirt with your mother!" That but it's Bruce threatening to leave his comms on deliberately when he's around Selina if the baby bats don't start behaving themselves on patrol.

Bruce: The more you sass me, the more I'm gonna flirt with your parents.

Dick: Jokes on you, I'm an orphan.

Bruce: Alright then.

Bruce: *flirts with Commissioner Gordon*

Bruce: *flirts with Barry*

Bruce: *goes to space*

Bruce: *flirts with Luand'r*

Dick: STOP THOSE ARE MY IN-LAWS!

———————

Cass: *blinks*

Bruce: That's it. I've had it with your attitude.

Bruce: *goes out with Lady Shiva*

———————

Bruce: *walks in with a bouquet of flowers*

Luke: Uh... what's all this for?

Bruce: Remember the other week when you called my prototype strobe light batarang stupid?

Luke: ...Because it is?

Bruce: Well, guess what?

Bruce: *gives the flowers to Lucius*

———————

Jason: And what if I don't? What are you gonna do, let me die again?

Bruce: No.

Bruce: *opens Grindr*

Jason: You wouldn't.

Bruce: Oh yes I would.

Bruce: *slides into Ollie's DMs*

———————

Tim: It's a good thing I never introduced you to Bernard's family.

Bruce: I could always look them up in the phone book.

Tim: What year are you living in?

Bruce: I'm just kidding. I'll be back in an hour. Hold down the fort for me, m'kay buddy?

Tim: Yeah, sure.

[an hour later]

Bruce: *walks in holding hands with Lex Luthor and Max Mercury*

Tim: What the...?

Bruce: I still know your best friends' parents.

Lex: This is what you handcuffed me for?

Bruce: Shush, I'm making a point.

———————

Bruce: We go in on my signal.

Steph: This is my dad we're talking about. I'm not gonna sit around and risk him getting away.

Steph: *swings onto the scene*

Bruce: *follows her*

Steph: Stop right there, Cluemaster—BATMAN WHAT THE FUCK?!?

Bruce: *sweeps Arthur off his feet*

———————

Bruce: *lecturing Damian*

Damian: Tt.

Bruce: One second.

Bruce: *pulls out his phone*

Bruce: Hey Talia, I was wondering if you had dinner plans tonight?....Yes, Damian is misbehaving again.....7:30? Perfect!

———————

Duke: You've never met my friends' or girlfriend's parents and Jokerized people can't consent, so...

Bruce: *turns on the computer*

Bruce: *emails the immortal entity Gnomon*

Bruce: *gets a reply*

Bruce: Alfred, fetch my tux.

———————

The voice in Bruce's head: *says mean things*

Bruce: Oh yeah? Well how do you like THIS?

Bruce: *proposes to Selina*

———————

Holly: *flips him off*

Bruce: *proposes to Selina*

Selina: Again? That's the second time today.

———————

Julia: You're nothing a bloody angst-addled egotistical baby twat!

Bruce: *looks at her*

Bruce: *looks at Alfred*

Bruce: This isn't gonna work.

[camryn-haitani]

My favorite girl

Bang Chan x Camgirl!Reader

credits to the girls in the pics^^

chan has been very frustrated, from overworking himself and sexually. with producing stray kids new album to taking care of his band mates. changbin notices that chan has been snapping a lot and very easily, so he does what every good friend does and shows chan his favorite camgirl <3

TW: SMUT, chan isn’t an idol but he’s stray kids music producer, cursing, dirty talk, subby chan, dom reader, chan is called channie multiple times, changbin jokes about sucking off chan, masturbating (both you and him), toy use (fem receiving), squirting, videoing (you video yourself), name calling (mommy, doll, darling), panty fucking, cumming on your bra

ugh i love camgirl fics 🫶🏻

pt.2 pt.3

“han, you’ve got to get this right. we’ve been at this for over 30 minutes.” chan pinches the bridge of his nose. of course, han feels horrible that he can’t reach the pitch, but he burys his feelings and puts on a smile. “you got it, captain.” he salutes.

after a few more attempts, han finally reaches his right pitch which causes him to have a lil celebration. chan, however, has hours of more work to do while the others are free to do whatever their heart desires. binnie sees that he’s stuck here for hours on end with no breaks and his stomach only filled with monster energy drinks, so he stays with chan to help with the seemingly endless amount of work.

the studio is dead silent only filled with the clicks of computer mouse’s, keyboard clacks every so often and phone vibrations of their phones from text messages and other non important notifications.

*brrt* chan glances at his phone but pays no attention to what the notification was for. changbin fake gasps and puts a hand on his chest, clutching his non existent pearls. he pushes chans chair a lil rough to get his attention. “hm?” chan doesn’t even look up from his monitor. “how dare you not read my message.” binnie acts hurt. “dude, you’re right next to me. why did you text me?” he says

changbin sighs and motions his eyes to the camera the studio office has. of course it’s for safety reasons but chan thinks it’s stupid. it’s a private office space, why need a camera? chan rolls his eyes and pick up his phone.

changbinnie: dude are you doin ok?

Me: not one bit my guy

Me: stress is getting to me

changbinnie: would you like some help?

chan slowly looks up at binnie with this weirded out look. binnie looks confused until he reread the message he sent. his eyes widened when he realized what it sounded like he was saying.

changbinnie: DAWG NO NOT LIKE THAT

changbinnie: IM NKT OFFERING TO SUCK YOU OFF

Me: you sure made it sound like you were 🤨

changbinnie: i mean…👀👀

changbinnie: I’M JOKING

Me: uh huh sure you are

changbinnie: ANYWAY

changbinnie: what i’m saying is do you want me to send you a link that helps me when i’m stressed

chan looks back up at changbin with skeptical eyes, wondering what the hell he’s talking about. binnie raises his eyebrows and giving a ‘do you want it or not’ look. chan thinks about his decision for a couple seconds before responding

Me: gimme the link

changbinnie: i knew you’d say yes, which is why it’s already copied on my keyboard

changbinnie: ww.y/nnie.cam

Me: what is this

changbinnie: don’t open it now, wait until you’re in your room

Me: if this gives me a virus, i’m beating your ass

changbinnie: 😮

changbinnie: go home and i’ll finish the rest

chan looks at him mouthing ‘are you sure?’ as changbin nods. “trust me, bro. you’re gonna wanna watch it.” binnie reassures. chan packs up his stuff and heads out.

the entire drive home, his head filled with thoughts of ‘what if this doesn’t work?’ ‘what am i gonna do?’ ‘if he gives my phone a virus i swear to god.’

he arrives home and sets all of his stuff down. the excitement mixed with nervousness fills his stomach. he scrolls back through his and binnies messages to find the link. he sets his phone on his nightstand and lays down on his bed. chan takes a couple breaths to calm his nerves and finally clicks on your link.

his eyes feast on your swollen clit, puffy and red from your previous orgasms. sweet and delicious moans spill from your lips, dark and purple from your lipstick, a black bullet vibrator pressed against your overstimulated hole, pushing in and out ever so slowly.

chans cock is painfully pressed against his jeans. he quickly unbuttons them and pushes them down to his lower thighs, palming his achy cock through his underwear. he moves his palm the same pace with your vibrator. his fingers fumble with his keyboard, shaking from lust.

user8274748829 tipped $5

user8274748829: go faster

your eyes flicker to the screen when you heard the *ping* sound of the money coming in. you giggle between your moans. “only if you say please.” your eyes roll back with the thought of someone begging on their knees for you.

user8274748829 tipped $15 dollars

user8274748829: please darling

user8274748829: i need it

that comment sent you over the edge. the thought of someone groveling at your feet, willing to do whatever you wanted. your pussy clenching around nothing, wanting your viewers to have a good view as you came. your slick coating the black bullet, leaving it creamy, white, and shiny.

chans boxers long discarded in the floor, leaking tip helping him coat his cock, high pitched whines fall from his pink and pretty lips. his orgasm crashing down on him, thighs clenching, head thrown back, and his hand furiously fisting his cock.

out of breath, you find your last bit of energy to say your goodbyes until next stream. your cute hands waving your finger bye bye.

chans screen displayed a “see you next time” screen with your previously streamed videos, and of course he was going to binge watch every. single. one. of them because he can’t leave his still hard and throbbing cock so pitiful and red.

he soon realized that he needed an account to see your other videos and he’s never been so quick to sign up for anything but this.

after his lil binge session, he grabs tissues and wipes up the puddles of his cum from his thighs, stomach, and even his chest. chan grabs his phone again and opens messages.

Me: thank you so much bro

changbinnie: what’d i tell you man

changbinnie: she’s an absolute angel

changbinnie: and an even prettier pussy

Me: can’t lie about that

chan single handedly thinks you’ve ruined all other women for him. he can’t get enough of you. your voice, calling him a good boy, your hands, the way they cutely held your dildo as you punish your cunt with it, your eyes, how they look into the camera feeling as if you were looking directly into chans own eyes. he can’t get enough of you, he needs to feel you, to hear you, to see you touch him, pump his cock, fuck your gorgeous pussy. even if this is the first time he’s ever seeing you, he desperately needs you.

over the span of a few weeks, chan has joined every live, tipped ridiculous amount of money, and has even won a couple prizes for being first in your little contests. he has your panties from the first ever live he joined to your favorite bra that he cums on just about every other day.

this particular livestream would change chans world.

as soon as your notification popped upon his phone, he jumped up from the couch of the practice studio and runs home, leaving the members confused as changbin gives him a knowing look when he runs out the door.

you start off by holding a poll to see what your viewers want to see this time. you know your viewers by now and of course you put their favorite option on there which was ‘fucking my biggest dildo with a vibrator to my clit<3’. your viewers loved to see you squirm and writhing with pleasure.

you already knew which option was going to win so you went ahead and pulled your dildo out and started to apply lube to the tip, letting the globs roll down the shaft. as you wait for your vibrator to charge since you forgot to charge it, you start to prep yourself. pulling your panties up creating friction on your clit as you rub between your panties. just thinking about the stretch of your biggest dildo, it makes you drip with excitement.

chan is already stiff in his sweats when he practically pounces on his bed and rips them off. his eyes focusing the way your pussy tightens. he no longer fumbles with his keyboard to type in chat because he’s done it so many times.

channieroo tipped $170!

channieroo: god i’ve missed you all day doll

you love seeing his name pop up in your chat. he’s your favorite after all. ever since he changed his user to channieroo, you knew it was him when he said please for the first time. he’s not your favorite because of the large amount of money he gives you, no no no. he’s your favorite because no one’s ever praised you like channie does.

“hi channie, i’ve missed you more. always loo-… looking for your name.” you stutter when you realize that your favorite viewer is here and has a full display of your dripping pussy.

chan moans with delight when you call him out. he feels so special when you call him ‘channie’. your panties that he won in that contest is tangled around his base, making it seem like your pretty pussy is wrapped around his cock.

the beeping of your vibrator brings you back from your lust covered mind. you quickly grab it as you spread the drops of lube on your silicone cock.

you know this is wrong but you imagine it was channies cock instead of it being a silicone one. you’ve never seen him before but you let your imagination run wild with how he looks.

you swipe a drop of lube and spread it on you pussy lips and quivering hole. chans eyes locked on to you as you take you panties off and line yourself up with the bulbous tip of your dildo. chan creates a fist and simulates as if your cunt was lowering down onto his tip. you both sigh of relief as the feelings of being stretched out and wrapping his hand tightly around his cock, thinking it was each other instead of doing it y’all’s selves.

you stop going down when you’re feeling so so full, but then you hear that sound.

channieroo tipped $200!

channieroo: you can take it mommy

channieroo: please sink down on that cock for me

the tip kissing your cervix so roughly and so harshly but channies words soothe that pain. you vigorously nod your head as your moans continue to pitch up the further you make the dildo disappear inside you.

chan teases his tip with swipes of his thumb, rolling out the beads of his pre-cum over his tip. you grab your favorite vibe and press it to your clit, trying to make it easier to take your dildo.

“chan-.. chat… how pretty do i look right now?” you bat your eyelashes as your eyes gloss with tears. the overwhelming sounds of *pings* as your chat sends you loads of money and praises of how pretty you are but you’re only looking for a certain one.

chan thought his ears were deceiving him. ‘was she about to say my name?’ his heart pounds in his ears. he gets excited but then it goes away. ‘i was probably hearing things…’ he thought to himself.

it’s been a couple minutes and the notifications went down but they’re still coming in. you don’t see channie name and it makes you sad.

channieroo tipped $800!

channieroo: mommy you look so gorgeous

channieroo: sound so lovely, please keep going

channieroo: i’m so close mommy

your heart swells with the text on your screen. ‘that’s the biggest he’s ever donated’ you’re surprised. his words encourage you to keep sinking down. with the help of the vibrator, you finally reach the base of your pretty purple cock. it takes you a couple minutes to regain yourself to start bouncing.

channieroo tipped $950!

channieroo: come on mommy

channieroo: you’re taking it so well

channieroo: you can do it mommy please

your eyes roll at the thought of bouncing on channies cock. ‘i bet it’s so pretty and pink’ you say to yourself.

chans fisting his cock so angrily, waiting for you to start moving and hear your delicious moans. he sees you lift yourself up and drop back down to the base. “yes mommy. yes yes yes yes keep going. you feel so good.” he tells himself. he wishes it were you, god you’d look so beautiful above him, tits jumping up and down with every move. god he could cum right now, but he’s patient and obedient, so he waits for you.

with the constant pressure of your vibe and the fat tip of your dildo kissing your cervix, you’re not going to last long. you’re lovely eyes stare right into the camera, “chat… can i cum..? please, i’ve been such a good girl.”

once again, the money starts flowing in and then he sends a chat.

channieroo tipped $1,000!

channieroo: cum with me mommy

channieroo: wanna feel you wrapped around me

channieroo: wanna fill you up

channieroo: please

that’s what does it. the image of chan fucking into your pussy as he called you mommy has you clench so tightly that you think you’ll tear your toy.

chan chases his orgasm with chants of ‘mommy please’ string from his lips. both of your breathing is rugged and shaky. your head falling low with hair covering your face.

you regain your composure and lift your head back up. “thank… you… for coming to…. todays stream.” you pause. you weakly wave bye bye and end stream.

chan looks at the ceiling, baffled, still thinking you said his name. what snaps him out of his trance was the *brrt* of his phone. he picks it up and immediately almost drops it.

y/nnie: hi channieroo <3

[bandgie]

How Much Longer?

warnings! MDNI18+, fem!reader, dom!reader(sorta), nipple play (m!rec), handjob, PIV, no protection, overstim (m!)

notes! I read this @cbini ask and got inspired. thank you

1.7kwords

"Baby," you call out for Felix from the bed, "When are you gonna be done with that game?"

You stopped counting how long he's been gaming since you came over. His computer is running hot by now. You can hear the buzzing from the PC. Still, no matter how much his monitor begs for a break or how pretty you look, Felix is stuck on the screen.

"Soon, babe." He gives you a brief look over the shoulder.

You sigh. "Can't you pause it?"

"Nope. It's a live match."

Felix isn't usually like this. He's so attentive, so kind. His computer is hardly a thought when he's with you, but you just happened to come over unannounced at the peak of his match. 

That's what he says, at least.

You want to give him his space - his time - but you're tired of sitting on his bed and playing the patient girlfriend. 

You click your phone off and toss it on the bed. It lands with a soft thud as you rise from the bed, tip-toeing to Felix who is unaware of your lurking presence. 

Then you put your hands on his shoulders once you're behind him, grinning when he jumps. Felix turns and flashes you a toothy smile. 

"Uh-oh," he jokes. "I know that look."

Is it your mad face? No. Hardly is. But it is....mischievous.

Your hands travel down his chest, over his stomach, down to the elastic waistband of his shorts. You play with the hem, putting the string between your fingers to loosen it.

Felix grins but turns back to his screen. He won't tell you to stop. He never does when you want to play with him. Felix is obedient when you tug on his shorts, lifting his hips to shimmy out of them just enough for you to pull him out. 

You don't hesitate to get to work, grabbing his flaccid cock and giving it a soft squeeze. It's warm in your palm. You can't help but coo at the sight, pressing a soft kiss to Felix's neck.

He shudders. A low moan vibrates through his chest and his head tilts back only for a moment before his attention is grabbed by the screen again.

You're stroking his cock a little faster now. It's easy to find a rhythm standing behind him, a much better advantage compared to being between his legs. You pull up until your fist covers his tip before going down his shaft. It's at the base that you squeeze hard, going lower until you feel his heavy sack then back up. 

"How much longer on your game now?" You know he can hear the smile in your voice. Felix's laugh turns into a breathy moan, adjusting his hips until he can buck into your hand slightly. 

"Close. So close." He leans his head to the side so he can kiss your forearm, a small gesture that leaves your heart thudding and your cunt pulsing. "Just a little longer."

He's not talking about the game. You giggle at his innuendo and his lips curve into a smile against your arm. 

"You're so dumb." You joke. You're still smiling when your other hand travels up his shirt. You feel the softness of his stomach, the smoothness of his skin. Felix breathes out a sigh at your manicured softly nails scratching his skin.

You go up enough until you feel his chest, pebbled nipples on display from your stroking. A hum escapes your throat at the feeling and you can't help but grab one between your thumb and finger to squeeze. 

The sound Felix lets out is a mixture of a whine and a moan and his back arches when you tug on his nipple, mouth agape. 

"Oh my god. Fuck."

Arousal pools in your underwear from his groans. You rub your legs together to satiate the need in your cunt. Your lower lips barely rub your clit, somehow making the pulsing worse.

You'll have to ignore it for now. Most of your focus is on your boyfriend anyway, stroking his cock and pinching his nipples. Sometimes, you switch it up. It's his hard erection that you'll squeeze and his bud that you'll rub. 

Now, Felix is completely hard. His fingers can hardly grip the mouse anymore. He's trying - you'll give him that. Still attempting to shoot the enemy, to revive his teammates, to win, but he's not quite focusing on that. 

Especially when you rub your thumb over his slit. You run over it again and again until it leaks, using that as lube to stroke the rest. 

"S-sensitive! It's so sensitive right there, baby."

Felix squeals when you catch his tip again, this time, stroking up and down in quick motions.

His hands abandon the keyboard. They grip the armrests of his chair instead, fingers digging into the soft material until they nearly rip. 

Felix doesn't know if he wants you to keep abusing his dick or make you stop. The pleasure is too much, almost painful, but he likes how mean you can be. 

He has been neglecting you. Maybe being pushed to his limits should be his punishment. 

Felix tilts his head back again, glazed eyes looking at yours. You can't help but laugh at the sight. His lips are red and his cheeks are flushed pink. There's a tiny bit of drool on the corner of his lips that you spot. 

You lean down and kiss him. Felix can't wrap his lips around you properly from his moaning. He does, however, mix his tongue with yours. It's sloppy, wet, and uncoordinated. Your tongues dance and twist until that drool finally slips down his chin. 

Pulling away is the last thing you want to do, but you can't focus on stroking him. So, you pull away only a few inches to feel him pant in your mouth instead.

His cock throbs in your hold. You can't see, but you're sure his nipple is pink and sensitive from your touches. Your grip travels back to his tip just to see him shiver. 

Felix trembles when you stay there, teeth clenching as he says, "N-not there. Pleasepleaseplease-"

A cruel tug on his cock shuts him up quickly. A wail tears from his lips, pretty eyes blinking with tears. 

You're being mean. Maybe too mean. Felix was acting like you were invisible while he was gaming, but you did come over without any warning. 

Plus, the throbbing between your legs is just too much. So much slick gathered on your underwear that you know it has to be on your shorts by now. 

You press a long, soft kiss onto Felix. His cock pluses again in your hand, a clear sign of how close he is.

"I'm sorry, baby." You speak against his lips. "I'll give you what you want now."

Truthfully, there's nothing you could give that Felix wouldn't want. But when you come around to face him and tug your shorts and underwear off, he almost beams. 

He's already reaching for you, small hands encasing your waist and eagerly sitting you on him. His cock is so wet, so hard. It's still twitching even with nothing touching it. 

You look at him with a playful grin, "Are you too sensitive for this?"

Felix's eyes bulge from his sockets and he shakes his head back-and-forth rapidly. "No! Not at all. Sit on it, baby. Come on - fuck me."

Another smile from you. "But what about your game?"

"Oh, fuck this."

Felix bucks up into you. The intrusion is welcomed, your walls curving and molding into the shape it loves so much. You grip onto his shoulders as he drives deep. The wet 'plap' of his cock thrusting in and out of you makes your eyes almost cross. 

"Yesyesyes. Harder. Fuck me harder." Your breasts bounce in the cups of your bra. Felix stares at how they move underneath your shirt, leaning forward so he can bury his face in your cleavage. 

He is fucking you hard. Every thrust has you losing your breath and gasping when you inhale. You can only whine and moan, but Felix isn't any better. He's nipping at your shirt, eager to feel your tits but too lost in your cunt to do anything about it.

But his thrusts grow erratic too soon, too quick. Your teasing was too much, and now Felix can't fuck you for long without needing to cum.

"Oh shit. Pussy's so good. Can I cum in you? Say yes. Say yes, please."

Your answer is moving your hips to match his thrusts. Even if you won't be able to cum on his cock, you think you'll be satisfied with feeling him fill you up. 

But Felix's hands hold your ass in place. His feet plant in the ground so he can buck up, hitting your cervix so deep and hard that you're squealing. 

Shit, maybe you will cum. "Right there! Yes, fuck. Please don't stop. You'll make me cum."

You think your words are encouraging him to keep his orgasm at bay, but it makes it closer instead. Your voice and pleas - it's all too much for Felix. 

He groans more, louder. You feel his hips stutter and freeze. His cock twitches before you feel the warm gush of cum shoot inside. The abrupt pace lets you catch your breath and pulse on his cock. You wrap your arms around his neck and bring him close, letting Felix ride out his high with a few more thrusts. 

It feels good though you didn't finish. You can still taste the orgasm on your tongue, but you've been mean to Felix. You'll let him have this. 

Or so you thought. When Felix raises his head, you think it's to get off. You're sorely mistaken when he brings you back down on his length, a sudden burst of pleasure coursing through your body. 

"Use me." He breathes. "I'm still hard."

The game is long forgotten. How could that have even kept his attention when you're here? 

You softly rock against him and Felix hisses, still sensitive from his orgasm. Maybe the reaction should have you considering being gentle when you fuck him, but looking at his fucked-out face and labored breathing...you're thinking of quite the opposite. 

tags! @skzophreniic

[there's a Beomgyu (txt) version I wrote a while ago here, slightly different]

[sebsbarnes]

one's we have lost

dr. frank langdon x f doctor!reader

summary: for now, we can sit here. we can cry, we can shout, we can be silent. i am here until you tell me to go.

warnings: mentions of patient death (child), aggression towards medical staff, self-doubt, angst, grammar errors, cliches, cursing

word count: 1k+

a/n: no established relationship but its there! yeaah this show i cant even begin to explain my love. a shorty bc im in the middle of writing a longer story for langdon

your hearing was minimized to a buzzing noise, you couldn’t compute the commotion of the ER around you but in the far corner of your mind, the echos of the parents cry sounded. it was but a few steps from the door frame of the quiet room where the news just broke that a roaring sound ripped you from the static.

“you fucking did this! she is gone because of you. you’re a fucking doctor, you’re meant to save lives and now i’ll never hear my baby call out to me or-or celebrate holidays or fuck, her sixth birthday,” the grieving father screamed, his figure looming over you, his hand gripped tightly to your shoulder, “you should be ashamed to call yourself a doctor.”

there was nothing you could say to amend the situation, but truthfully, you said nothing because you believed him. you couldn’t save the little girl. the ongoing doubts about your skill set were now reaffirmed by the mourning father. it was moments before you realized security had pulled him away from your face, his finger pointed so close to you it ghosted your nose.

voices sounded from all around you but you couldn’t comprehend what syllables your coworkers were stringing together to comfort you. with your body numb from the shift and imposter syndrome setting in, you aimlessly pushed past everyone without a word and wandered until you reached a stairwell multiple flights up from the emergency department.

you slammed the side of your fists into the wall as the numbness faded and the anger, sadness, and pain took place. the little girl's face played in your mind, the repeated visits she had to the emergency room due to a chronic condition. each time she came that tiny voice of hers pleaded to see you. she trusted you each time yet in the end you failed her.

back in the emergency department langdon had exited one of the trauma rooms as the patient was rushed up to surgery. he trudged over to the nurses station searching for his hours-old red bull in hopes of a pick me up. immediately langdon could tell there was a shift in energy in the department. some nurses were whispering, others quietly documenting notes, robby was in a hushed but serious conversation with the security guards.

"hey langdon," dana sighed offering a thin-lipped smile.

"what's going on out here? did i miss something, everyone seems a bit...uh, off," he questioned.

dana's mouth morphed into a frown, "the little girl passed, the smith family that is always here. the dad became angry and started attac-"

"where is she?" langdon cut dana off immediately knowing you were the one who was with the girl.

dana could only offer a shoulder shrug, "she walked off after security took the father away."

"shit," he muttered as he dropped the redbull on the desk and stalked off towards a familiar spot.

footsteps echoed their way towards you and in a measly attempt to hide your face you placed your forehead to your knees, "look gloria, i don't want to fill out any statements or paperwork."

"i didn't know i gave off a managerial presence but i'll consider that for the future."

you peeked your eyes open to see two shoes in front of your own feet. letting out a deep breath you picked your head up and looked at langdon's figure standing above you.

"respectfully, you should never consider it, i don't think you're cut out for a position like that," you attempted to joke back, blinking away threatening tears and clearing your scratchy throat.

langdon shared the wall with you as he slid down to the floor, his shoulder bumping into yours and his legs outstretched beside your own. you didn't need to look at langdon to know his eyes were boring holes into you. for the moment, it was nice to not be alone. hearing his light breathing and the sound of his scrubs rubbing together distracted you from the thoughts clouding your mind. the small voices of the patients you've lost telling you to walk out of the hospital and never return. that you're wasting your time and doing more harm than good.

"look, i-" langdon hesitated, "i am so sorry."

your head dropped back against the wall, eyes looking to the ceiling, "it's all my fault, he is right. why the fuck am i a doctor? she was five langdon, five. i couldn't save her and she is gone because of me, because of my shortcomings, because my failure of knowledge," you ranted with a wobbly voice.

langdon winced at your words. he has found himself repeating those same sentences to himself in the mirror when he's had a horrible shift. a sentiment that most doctors langdon knows have battled with. the weight of every right and wrong choice lingering with you until the end of time.

langdon whispered your name to grab your attention. he softly grabbed your hands, careful not to startle you in this vulnerable state, "every patient we cannot fix, every moment we cannot fix will sit with us, forever. it will sit with you forever, i know it and i know you well enough. this job can be brutal and unfair but it can also be so fulfilling."

"i know," you whispered finally looking to him. langdon's face etched with concern. the pad of his thumb dusting off a rolling tear.

he continued, "i have never met someone so dedicated to their job. not only do you fight for your patients but you also fight for your coworkers...for me. you are a rarity. you are a doctor because your heart is in the right place and you strive to make a difference. losing patients is going to be a given no matter how good we are, it's the nature of the job. but, you cannot give up."

a weak and shaky smile graced your face. you looked to the man beside you appreciative of his words that were not laced with humor but with shared understanding and respect. delicately you cupped his cheek, "thank you, langdon."

"i will be here for you, always. an-and, i need you...i cannot walk through these doors every shift knowing you won't be here. we have each other, okay?"

you blinked away the fast-approaching tears and nodded softly to him. langdon wrapped an arm around your shoulder allowing you to nestle into his side.

"for now, we can sit here. we can cry, we can shout, we can be silent. i am here until you tell me to go."

[robinbuckleyluvr]

⊹˚˖⁺ check you out - robin buckley

masterlist | requests

Summary: goodness! imagine robin buckley accidentally says she was checking you out...

Warnings: she/her pronouns used on reader

Notes: this was lowkey hilarious to write

Word count: 698

⸻⊱༺ 

The door opened, the familiar bell signaling the entrance of yet another customer. Robin barely had a second to look up and catch herself from dropping the VHS tapes she carried as she watched a girl come in. Steve was just as dazzled as Robin, he stumbled out his usual “Welcome to Family Video!” line, and Robin just… stared.

Robin and Steve made eye contact, both exclaiming “Dibs!” at the exact same time. 

“She looks like she would be into more intelligent conversation anyway,” Robin raised her eyebrows.

“Uh, rude?” Steve joked, making his way over to the girl before Robin could even respond, “Guess we’ll just have to find out.”

Robin sighed and crossed her arms, scouring her mind to think of an excuse to hush Steve away from the girl.

“Hey, uh, need any help around here? What are we browsing for today?” Steve flirted as he approached her.

“Just looking, I don’t have anything in mind,” she responded, a lack of interest filled her words, but it was a hint a guy such as Steve wouldn’t really get.

Robin, clearly amused, watched Steve’s desperate commentary, her mind running faster than ever. Okay, Robin, think! He is totally dumb and will fall for anything. You just have to come up with something that he will actually believe.

“Steve!” Robin exclaimed, “Can you please come help me? The computer is totally jammed again!” 

Steve sighed at Robin’s words as he muttered an apology to the girl, who didn’t really seem to mind as she kept on looking around. 

Robin stepped back as Steve approached the computer, and before he knew it, Robin had approached the girl already. Steve sighed and rolled his eyes as he realized the computer was working perfectly, watching Robin hurry away to speak to the girl instead.

“Hey! Hi, do you need any help?” Robin smiled nervously.

The girl offered a kind smile, “Thanks! I’m just unsure of what to get. Just looking for something to watch over the weekend I suppose.”

“Cool cool cool,” Robin breathed out, “Well, are you a rom-com kind of girl? Or do you like sci-fi movies and stuff?”

“Oh gosh…” She laughed, “Not a rom-com girl I don’t think… I avoid watching them alone. It's saddening, I prefer sci-fi for sure. I love horror, does that help?”

“Understandable! I’m the same,” Robin smiled, “But uh… sci-fi and horror! I can work with that.” She spoke shyly as she scanned the ‘horror’ shelf that stood behind the girl. 

The girl stood there quietly next to Robin as she looked around, Steve stood watching them from afar, having his eyes nearly popping out of his skull as he noticed the girl checked Robin out — something Robin, of course, had completely missed. 

“How about…” Robin spoke as she reached over to grab one of the VHS tapes, “‘The Shining’! A total classic. It’s one of my all-time favorite movies. Have you seen it before?”

“Are you joking? I love that movie. Wouldn’t mind re-watching it, I think.”

Robin’s face lit up as the girl accepted her request. “Alright! You’re all set then! I’ll just get you checked out.” Robin paused, flustered, “I mean, I’ll check you out—Not check you out like that, uh, check out your movie! Not that I wouldn’t, you know, check you out. I mean, wait, that’s not, I mean, get your movie checked. You checked. For the movie that you’re renting! Which… yeah — pay there?” She motioned to the counter and walked off, her voice increasingly getting higher with each word.

As she followed Robin to the counter, the girl shook her head slightly, a shy smile forming as she did so.