#but trying to get down her speech patterns

[blueskittlesart]

Please share the secrets of your roaring Knight success, they kill me on the first sword maze like every single time

i had shadow mantle and i think tennatie on suzie, kris had a ribbon TP build and ralsei was a pure defense build. the TP build on kris was my lifesaver tbh. it let me use rude buster on almost every turn, which basically turns the fight into an endurance game because you'll almost always have hit the HP threshold (around 1500 total damage) by the first turn the fight can possibly end (1 or 2 turns after susie finishes her power of friendship speech.) fill your inventory with healing items and use them liberally. If you have enough points, the B-rank gacha machine can get you an extra revivemint and an execbuffet which are both extremely helpful.

The game-changing strat for me personally was a tensionmax, also from the B-rank gacha. if you're able to get one, have kris use it first turn. it basically gets you a free rude buster with an easy bullet pattern afterwards, and you don't need the fast soul to dodge on turn 1, so kris can holdbreath on turn 2 and maximize your damage right out the gate.

for the rest of the battle, don't bother trying to do damage with anyone but susie. Kris will refuse to damage the knight significantly unless the entire rest of the party is down and ralsei NEEDS to defend or he will die instantly. The TP gain you get from defending every turn is infinitely more useful than the 11 damage kris's fake ass will do. Basically, you should be either defending or itemhealing with kris and ralsei and then spamming rude buster at every opportunity. I wouldn't even bother healprayer-ing with ralsei unless you're consistently running out of items, and do NOT use susie to heal no matter how desperate you get.

If you used a tensionmax on the first turn and/or you're consistently getting enough TP to rude buster every turn and you're able to keep your entire team alive, you may actually be able to waste a turn defending everyone on more difficult bullet patterns like the sword maze. After about fifty attempts I actually started adding up my total damage in my head after each turn so that I could figure out whether it was worth it to waste a turn on full-party defense. This has the potential to prolong the battle into the unscripted sections, though, which means you won't know which bullet pattern you're going to be dealing with each turn, so use it sparingly if at all. I'd also recommend timing your revives strategically, because revived characters can't defend on that turn, so there's the potential that they go down again in a single hit if you revive them on a bullet pattern you're really bad at. I only had one revivemint and one full-party revive, so I would only ever use them when I knew there were a few patterns in a row coming that I was decent at dodging.

aside from that really all you can do is practice. I spent a good few attempts just focusing REALLY hard on that first fucking sword maze, and eventually I was able to figure out a semi-consistent dodge motion and execute it based on pure muscle memory. It wasn't perfect, but it generally kept at least susie and kris alive. There were bullet patterns that were nearly impossible for me at the beginning that I was able to nohit towards the end of my run purely because I'd done them so much that I'd worked out consistent strategies for them. All you can really do is replay the fucking thing over and over again. which lowkey sucks but it's by design

if/when you do manage to get to the hp threshold, you'll get one free turn where the knight will glow white. HEAL LIKE YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT on this turn. do not bother trying to do damage. on the next turn, defend every single party member and get ready to lock in. if you can make it through the final bullet pattern that is coming, you will have one last turn to rude buster, and that turn will win you the battle. good luck soldier o7

[tessa-liam]

W.I.P. Wednesday

Marabelle Series

Chapter 20 - 'Ascension'

"You know?!" Sophie was open-mouthed in utter disbelief as she paced around the fountain. She didn't know whether to be mad at him or... really appreciative of his insight. "Did my aunt really call you to tell you about it?!"

"Yes," Maxwell looked guilty as charged and quickly added. "But don't blame Mom. She didn't really have any other options, especially when my father started freaking out. Mom just wanted me to help you, to calm you down, and well... this is kinda what I do best."

She bit her lip, feeling overwhelmed with a strange sense of gratitude. He had come through for her when she most needed a friend, just as he had always done. How had she never seen it before? Uncle’s actions were insufferable. She suddenly felt like an idiot.

"God, you're too good to be true," she huffed in annoyance and jabbed him lightly on the shoulder.

He grinned back at her, looking uncharacteristically sheepish and shook his head, shrugging it off.

"Trust me," he sighed. "I know. Mom told me what you said to my father. I... have a lot of complicated feelings about what he has done," he trailed off with a wave of his hands. "You'll hear about them sometime."

Sophie looked up at him curiously. "About your dad? Are these secrets known at court? Your mom was all for you - supportive...'"

Smoke and Mirrors Series

Chapter 15 - 'Catch and Release'

The cell was silent.

Outside, distant footsteps come and go.

Riley is curled in the corner, her face pale, but her eyes fierce. Her wrists are bleeding where the restraints cut into her skin—yet the metal is now visibly worn.

Pain is temporary. Focus is everything.

She shifts position, pushing the sharp edge of the stone harder against the weakened metal clasp. A snap. She freezes.

Then—

CLINK.

One wrist is free.

Breathless, Riley focused...

'Come on... come on...'

She worked on the second cuff with trembling fingers. Another snap—both hands free. She exhaled shakily, trying not to cry in relief.

Riley stood, wobbling slightly, the blood rushing back into her limbs. She crossed to the tray near the door, and broke off a piece of metal from its bent corner—makeshift weapon.

The hallway beyond her cell is dim. She studied the lock. Standard. She grabbed the empty tin cup, leans close to the bars, and began to tap it in a rhythmic pattern.

'They have to be listening.'

Counting. Predictable patrols…

Sure enough, footsteps approached. A guard, bored, holding a flashlight. He peered in.

"You’re awake. Cute. Thought you’d sleep through your own ransom."

He unlocked the door and stepped inside, clearly overconfident.

Turning the Page Series

Chapter 18 - 'To Have and To Hold'

Footsteps approached, light but familiar.

“I thought I’d find you hiding out here,” Olivia said softly, her lilac bridesmaid dress catching the morning light.

Liam turned, smiling with quiet warmth. “I needed a moment. Before everything begins.”

Olivia joined him under the trellis, her gaze sweeping over the distant coastline. “Funny. You used to sneak off to avoid state dinners and speeches. Now you’re sneaking off before marrying the woman you love.”

“I’m not avoiding it,” Liam said quickly. “I just… didn’t expect to feel like this.”

Olivia looked up at him. “Like what?”

“Like I’m standing on the edge of something so big, so final, it’s hard to breathe. Not because I doubt her—God, never that—but because I know this isn’t just a ceremony. It’s the rest of our lives.”

Olivia reached out, gently straightening the collar of his shirt. “You’ve always carried more than your share, Liam.

Duty. History. The crown. But you chose her.

And that means you finally get to have something that’s just yours.”

He studied her face, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Do you remember that night in Lythikos? The blizzard? You brought me coffee with cinnamon, and we talked about what kind of king I wanted to be.”

Olivia’s smile grew wistful. “I remember thinking you’d never stop putting everyone else before yourself.”

Liam nodded. “You were right. And yet, here I am… about to put myself first. For once. With Riley.”

Olivia touched his arm. “You’re not choosing yourself instead of Cordonia. You’re choosing someone who strengthens you. Who sees you. That’s not selfish. That’s smart.”

He exhaled, his shoulders easing slightly. “You’ve always known what to say.”

She gave him a mock stern look. “And don’t you forget it.”

They stood in silence for a moment, listening to the cicadas hum lazily in the garden around them.

“Liv,” Liam said softly, “thank you. For being there in every version of my life—crown or no crown, chaos, or calm.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she replied. “Just promise me you’ll dance with your bride like no one’s watching. Even if Bertrand is counting the steps.”

Liam chuckled, some of the tension finally lifting. “Deal.”

As she turned to head back toward the villa, Liam called after her, voice low but clear.

“Hey, Liv?”

She looked back over her shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re here today. It wouldn’t feel right without you.”

Olivia’s eyes softened. “It wouldn’t feel right to be anywhere else.”

She left him with a wink and the scent of jasmine in the breeze, and Liam stood a moment longer, heart steadier, breath calmer.

The next time he’d stand still would be at the altar.

And this time, he’d be ready.

To be continued…

✨️💖💖💖✨️💖💖💖✨️💖💖💖✨️💖💖💖✨️💖💖💖✨️

@choicesficwriterscreations

✨️Perma-tags: @beau1811 @bascmve01 @twinkleallnight @dutifullynuttywitch @lovingchoices14 @alj4890 @busywoman @bardic-tales @kingliam2019 @malblk21 @delmissesryanandcassi @selina012 @differenttyphoonwerewolf

✨️Liam x Riley: @ladylamrian @snoopdogcone @jared2612 @queenwalton @rafasgirl23415 @walkerdrakewalker @loreofyore @fadingreveries

✨️Liam x Sophie: @snoopdogcone @jared2612 @kyra75 @chiarakole @waffleseggsbacon @scourge-lover @classylady1234 @thethingsidoforausername @belencha77 @soniamayo

[probablygayattorneys]

[eye-of-yelough]

This is what Tae’s voice sounds like. btw

[g1rld1ary]

well kept secret - spencer reid x hotch's daughter!reader

wc: 1420

cw: none!

me: back on my criminal minds grind... also im not gonna lie to u guys i just got back from a hosue party and im extremely drunk, so if u see any mistakes don't be afraid to lmk. also if u have any requests for hotch!daughter pls send them thru bc im heavy into reid rn i just adore him <3

next

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“Who is that?” JJ asked, pointing subtly over to the figure walking cautiously out of the elevator doors. The figure, of course, being you, nervously trying to find your way around the glitzy BAU offices.

“God knows we needed a new pretty face around here — no offence, ladies,” Morgan laughed, drawing well-humoured insults from the women of the office.

“I for one don’t take any offence, her shoes are so cute!” Garcia gushed from over Morgan’s shoulder, eyes locked on your sleek black heels.

“Oh my god, they look just like the ones in that window we passed on the way to dinner, don’t you remember? Even Hotch said they were nice!” Kate wheeled her way into the conversation on her swivel chair.

It was a slow day around the office, not something that went unappreciated, so each agent was eagerly amenable to conversation.

“Reid, come over here,” Morgan beckoned, “Has she ever been here before?”

“Me?” He spluttered, eyes searching frantically, “Why would you ask me? Hundreds of people come into this building every day, let alone the thousands we see on the street every day, on cases—”

“And you have an eidetic memory kid, are you thinking straight or is the pretty girl messing up Boy Genius?”

Reid would drop dead before admitting that Morgan’s words had any truth to them, but his usually overactive speech pattern was halted by the vision of you entering the office’s glass double doors. His mouth dried out as you looked around, obviously unsure of where you were headed.

“No,” He finally answered, “I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

“She looks lost. Kind of scared, even?” JJ was giving her signature maternal look, concern etched into her face and Garcia was up before anyone could tell her it might not have been a good idea.

The gang watched from afar as your expression brightened from worried to delighted as Garcia began to chat with you, eyes gleaming as you pointed down to your heels. Clearly she’d repeated the earlier compliment.

“Hi! I’m Penelope Garcia, technical analyst, and you are gorgeous. I’m in love with your shoes!” The introduction and compliment took you by surprise but you were by no means disappointed, replying with equal giddiness.

“Thank you so much, my Dad bought them for me!” You extended your right leg slightly to show off the heel more holistically, “And I just love your outfit, the glasses are everything.”

Garcia gushed her own appreciation as the two of you became fast friends, so you chanced a request for help.

“I’m looking for SSA Aaron Hotchner’s office? I know it’s one of the big fancy ones but I’m not sure exactly which.”

“Up those stairs and second door! You can’t miss it, the big boss energy radiates as soon as you go near.” You both laughed and you made sure to thank Garcia profusely.

Reid watched as you pointed up to the private offices, evidently searching for a specific office. He wondered who you could be looking for. He didn’t have to wonder for long as Garcia rushed back, talking a million miles an hour as she explained that you were looking for Hotch. That brought more questions than answers, and the BAU were quick to place bets on what you could possibly want from him.

“Well, she’s certainly too young to be his girlfriend,” Morgan laughed, “Unless Hotch gets down more than we thought.”

“Could be a young woman looking for a mentor? She looks about college age, maybe just graduated?” Kate suggested and JJ nodded in agreement, neither even pretending to be working anymore.

Meanwhile, you’d made your way up to Hotch’s office, knocking softly on the oak door.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, eyebrows raising only slightly, an extreme show of emotion for the man.

“Check your watch, Agent Hotchner,” You smiled, unsurprised that he’d gotten totally consumed by his work.

“Damn,” He huffed under his breath, “I’m sorry, should we go now, then? And what did I tell you about calling me that?”

“Sorry, Dad,” You emphasised the title, “And yeah, let’s head. I’m starving.”

Down in the bullpen, even Rossi had been roped into the shenanigans.

“You’re the closest with Hotch, if anyone would know who she is it’s you!” JJ said, the rest of the group agreeing.

“Why don’t you just, I don’t know, ask him?” Rossi shook his head like he was dealing with small children. Sometimes he was convinced he was.

You took Hotch’s offered arm and the two of you left his office, making quiet smalltalk. The office fell eerily quiet as you two emerged from the behind the closed door, and you got the distinct impression that the BAU had all been talking about you.

Obviously Hotch noticed the team very unsuccessfully playing it cool and muttered a curse, signalling to you to head over to them. You supposed you were going to finally get your formal introductions.

“This is Rossi, Derek Morgan, JJ, Kate Cunningham, Penelope Garcia, and Doctor Spencer Reid. Guys, this is my daughter.”

If you thought there was silence before, it was nothing compared to when Hotch dropped that bomb. You could hear a pin drop.

“Um, it’s really nice to meet you all! I’ve heard so many stories about your work.”

“And we’ve never heard anything about you, pretty girl.”

“Morgan,” Hotch warned with hardly any bite as you laughed off Morgan’s playful flirting.

“Derek Morgan you are exactly like I was told. You too, Penelope, my father was not exaggerating about your outfits.”

“I thought you were starving?” Hotch changed the subject to tease you, nudging you to get moving.

“Alright, alright, I get it. You don’t want me taking all your friends,” You grinned, getting moving nonetheless. The BAU laughed, both charmed and confused by you. It wasn’t unbelievable you were Hotch’s daughter — your quiet confidence and posture was the same, but your friendliness and more easily understandable humour set you two apart.

“Bye everyone!” You called over your shoulder as Hotch rushed you out the doors, clearly keen for you to stop making friends with his coworkers.

“She seems nice,” JJ commented, sitting back down in her swivel chair.

“Can we all talk about how Pretty Boy didn’t say a word that whole conversation?” Morgan asked, a hand clamping deviously on Reid’s shoulder.

“Spencer!” Kate laughed, “You don’t have a crush, do you?”

Reid could feel his cheeks heating up of their own accord, his usually genius brain useless to counteract it.

“No!” He blurted out, “I just didn’t want to say something wrong or bore her with facts like I do with you guys.”

“So you do want to impress her?” Garcia teased with a toothy grin as Reid rushed to shake his head no.

“She’s our boss’ daughter, guys. I think all of us should want to impress her, right?”

“I dunno, Reid, I don’t see Morgan or JJ blushing right now,” Rossi chimed in with a laugh before heading back to his office.

You stepped into the elevator with Hotch, chatting happily about your day so far. Your father stuck his hand out to hold the door open with such speed it scared you a little, jumping in your own body. You relaxed when you saw it was just Penelope Garcia, hurrying towards you with a few files in her hands.

“Thank you, sir,” She breathed as the doors closed behind her, “I forgot Rossi wanted these scanned and digitised from the last case!” She punched the button for the third floor. “It was really nice to meet you, by the way. Even if Hotch has kept you a secret all these years.”

“To be totally fair to him, I wouldn’t say he exactly kept me a secret if he only found out I existed a few years ago. It was nice to finally meet you all too, though. I’ve heard so many work stories.”

You bid Garcia goodbye as the doors opened once again. Just as she was almost down the hall she heard your voice whisper, “Why didn’t you tell me doctor Reid was hot and smart?”

Penelope hardly concealed her gasp, delighted at the newfound revelation. This would be fun for her.

next part

[coltcassidyy]

Starfire inspired male reader x mark and his variants 🙏🙏🙏🙏

Absolutely cause this is fire. Probably gonna write head canons for this cause I suck

Also the only ever starfire related media I’ve consumed is um teen titans go so bear with me here.

Tw : some nsfw? Or suggestiveness. A little tiny bit of rough stuff (mentions of possessiveness, manhandling)

Starfire inspired male reader x mark and his variants

Mainstream mark

At first he was kinda … weirded out by you. It was odd, a random person from a random planet just coming to earth for no reason, barely accustomed to the human culture (ok man)

But you grew on him, and fast. Sometimes he thinks it’s hilarious, how you talk, how you act, how you ... just, behave in general, sometimes he considers taunting you but that’s too cruel

Fucking died laughing at your grammar it’s so funny to him

Sometimes finds it kinda hard to keep up with your optimism. He loves you for it, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes he gets genuinely confused on how you can see the bright side of everything. It never fails to cheer him up whenever he’s down

LOVES how possessive you can be at times. It makes him feel loved, and with everything that’s happened to him, he doesn’t mind if the reminder is a little rough

He likes teaching you how to cook too. Mark’s a mama’s boy, and his mama’s an amazing cook. He shows you most of her recipes, even some he’s made himself (even though they aren’t as good as his mom’s, you still praise him to the moon and back). He likes how intimate cooking together can be, and he loves teaching you things about humans and their customs

DEFINITELY made you read seance dog, or some of his other comics. Sometimes he gets a little excited and geeks out to you about comics, sometimes comparing the both of you to his favorite comic couples, even one time getting the idea to make a comic based on the both of you. But ultimately, and unfortunately, his hands were a bit full.

He 100% taught you how to kiss and it was 100% awkward and giggly and silly fun fun

Sinister mark

Oh this guy hated you bruh

Genuinely wanted to rip his eyes out when he first met you. Got him on some tweaker shit

But upon your second interaction (more so, him watching you fight a villain with less than / equal to strength than you, and winning), got him bricked like a mad man

Went home and jerked his shit I promise you

Also thinks your language (?) barrier is hilarious. But unlike mainstream mark, he isn’t afraid to be mean about it. Just straight up mocks you sometimes. He thinks that because of your speech pattern that you’re dumber than him, less than him and that gets him going

Gets him going. To his bedroom so he can jerk off. Get it

Sometimes he says or does shit to intentionally piss you off just cause it gets a kick out of him watching you try to convey anger with that ‘silly accent’

Bruh’s just a dick

Can you tell sinister mark isn’t my favorite

Full mask mark ( I came here to find mom and bring her back with me )

His heart stopped when he first saw you. He Thought (knew) you where the prettiest boy he has ever had the fortune to lay his eyes upon

He’d bring you little gifts under the guise of ‘teaching you human culture’. Things like bringing you flowers ( “humans do this for one another to express gratitude” ), little snacks that he knows you like ( “this is an example of how humans show each other that they care about one another’s well being, by bringing them food, nutrients” ), or even occasionally one of his sweaters or shirts ( “this is to show I trust you with my belongings” ), hoping you’ll return the favor.

This man is a yearner, a lover. Before the both of you were even romantically involved, he’d come flying to your window and begging for attention after every fight like a kicked puppy (I mean, it’s not too far off).

So soft, so gentle with you like he thinks you’ll break if he handles you too rough.

Unlike the other marks, he doesn’t think you’re stupid for your accent. He thinks it’s beautiful and unique, and on a particularly good day, he’s telling you how much he loves your voice.

Sometimes he sits you down and makes you talk to him about your day purely because he loves your accent so much.

He lets you take control the first time you two have sex. He tries to teach you and talk you through it, but it’s hard to understand what he’s saying when he’s whimpering and moaning between syllables. But you aren’t complaining! The sound is music to your ears.

Straight up GOONED when he saw you fight for the first time. Seeing how tough you are, and how capable you are in meanings of self-defense and attack— it made him feel 100x more safe around you.

Viltrumite mark

At first, he only saw you as a compatible mate. A way to grow the viltrumite empire.

But boy, he fell in love. And he fell hard.

Being a viltrumite, and knowing nothing about foreign culture, especially Tamarian, it was a struggle for him to show affection towards you at first.

But he grew, and he learned. From longing ( and kinda creepy ) stares and brief touches, to sweet kisses that linger warmth for hours on end and gentle words of reassurance and love. Gentle, in public, at least

When the two of you are alone is when he can really prove his love to you.

Sex with him is downright filthy— messy. He’s a viltrumite, he has high stamina, and he’s cumming as many times as he sees fit.

Even if you can’t biologically get pregnant, it doesn’t stop him from trying. What’s a man for hoping?

He’s pressing your thighs down to the bed and thrusting in you like there’s no tomorrow, muttering filth in your ear about how he longs to see you carrying his young— how pretty you’d look with a little bump in your tummy, how warm and soft and absolutely fucking delicious you are and how he’s so thankful to have claimed you when he had the chance.

Kinda like full mask mark, he’s a lover. Like I said earlier, he might be less lovey-dovey in public, but you have to trust that after he learns how, he’s showering you in affection

It’s constant praise, little gifts he gets you that he knows remind you of Tamaran, sometimes even having your planet’s traditional cultural meals cooked up.

He’s kinda stupid though. At one point he tried to get you involved in like some ‘proper English’ class thingy and you took it as an insult and you locked yourself in the bathroom for a little. Quite hilarious

(( sorry this was kinda ass and I didn’t do a lot of variants. If you like this, I can make a part 2 ))

[momotonescreaming]

STWG Daily Drabble - Doodle

Steddie | G | 814 words

Their phone was hooked to the wall near the end of their kitchen counter — a rather inconvenient place if you were trying to talk on the phone while someone else cooked — but the apartment was cheap enough no one really complained.

In fact, Robin joked it was in the perfect position. She could talk on the phone to Vickie, and keep Steve company as he cooked at the same time. He had no trouble hip-bumping her out of the way when she stretched the cord and wandered into the middle of their very tiny kitchen.

It only became a problem when Eddie ended up having tense emotional conversations there, right where everyone could hear him. When he tried to convince Wayne to give up the night shift and move away from Hawkins like he did — trying to keep him safe. Or when he talked to Jeff and the Corroded Coffin boys about school and how they were doing at college and they got all weird about them getting in and Eddie not even bothering to apply.

But that was neither here nor there. Steve and Robin were both really good at giving him space when he needed it, and he hoped he was just as good in return.

So he focused on the good things. He was doing that a lot lately. Steve had stolen a notepad and some nice pens from work, and they had it set up next to the phone so they could take notes. So they didn't have to go hunting through the house for them, Steve said. Because you always needed to write something down as soon as you weren't near any paper.

Naturally, there were hardly any proper notes on that pad of paper. Dates to coordinate calls with Dustin, times and amounts the pizza delivery gave them, notes on how to repair things Wayne gave them over the phone. But that was about it.

So when Eddie was on the phone, hunched over the counter, chatting with Wayne — he doodled. Drew skulls and guitars and goblins. Spiders and snakes and various dragon-like creatures. A wizard he tried to make like Gandalf.

And Steve, Eddie shortly noticed — started doodling too. He drew lines and patterns and slowly started colouring in the whole page with his pen. He drew sports equipment and car parts. A weird looking creature he thinks was supposed to be Dart?

It was cute, seeing all the little things Steve doodled while on the phone. But Eddie's favourites, he was finding out, was when Steve added onto Eddie's doodles. He gave Gandalf a basketball and tennis shoes. Doodled a guitar of his own in the goblin's hands and sunglasses on it's face. Gave his flaming skull a flower crown and a speech bubble that said 'I smell'.

So Eddie returned the favour. He took the baseball bat Steve doodled and drew nails sticking out of it — like the infamous baby he'd heard so much about. He tried to make the car Steve doodled look more like the Beemer — he's not so sure he succeeded, so he added a little label. He took a little pattern of stripes and spots Steve had doodled in the corner and turned it into a little knight wearing Steve's pattern on his tabard.

They didn't say anything to each other, but Eddie could hear Steve looking at the doodles he was adding and huffing a laugh out of his nose. It made his heart flutter, just a little, knowing Steve liked his silly little doodles. That this was a thing between them.

Robin, never covered or added to their doodles. She always started a new page, drawing smiley faces and flowers and little stick figure ladies with big boobies.

He tried hard not to read into it too much, despite the fact that he really wanted to read into it. Maybe this was just a Steve and Eddie thing. Maybe this was a sign. Or maybe he was just being silly.

The next time Eddie went to call Wayne, hunched over the kitchen counter, the notepad had been flipped over to a blank page. Right in the middle, in Steve's familiar scrawl — was a little doodle of Eddie. Mop of curly hair, tiny band shirt, ripped jeans and his guitar in one hand.

Lips curling up into a smile, almost involuntarily, Eddie felt his chest bloom with warmth. Turning, pen in hand, he looked to see Steve sitting on their living room couch. Shy smile of his own, but he wasn't looking away. He didn't say anything — not with Eddie waiting for Wayne to pick up — but he gave him a coy little look that said I hope you like it.

Eddie did, of course.

So he turned back to the paper — still waiting for Wayne to answer the phone — and started to doodle a little Steve holding doodle-Eddie's hand.

[ddejavvu]

anakin pulling reader over his lap spanking her and teasing/making fun of her for liking it and occasionally stops to rub his fingers against her clit to see she’s wet and he’s laughing and making fun of her for it, how dirty and how she’s so desperate for him oml😫😫😫

this post is 18+, minors dni.

contents/warnings: dark!anakin (probably), spanking, impact play + lots of dialogue about it, manhandling, pain, use of the word 'whore', mentions of a daddy kink but no involvement with one.

"This is ridiculous." Anakin's grating drawl reaches your ears, his speech pattern stunted condescendingly like he's charging through molasses, "I mean, this looks like a bad porno."

You're bent over his lap, fingers clawing into the carpet beneath you, and his flesh hand is working a tight burning sensation into the exposed flesh of your ass. He doesn't smack rhythmically, no, he smacks hard from below to watch your ass jiggle, then quick and rough from the side to watch his hand encompass a large portion of your flesh.

There's no predictability to his movements, and your eyes are squeezed shut, filled with glassy tears that would stop you from seeing even if they were open. You cry out with each new smack to your ass, acting completely helpless the way you let your limbs sag lifelessly over Anakin's lap. If you wanted to, you could push yourself off of him, or crawl forwards and run. But you don't- you were the one that asked for this.

"Is this really what you like? Bending over my lap and making me spank you like you're a whore in a video? Wait," He laughs, sounding evil and haughty, "Are you going to start calling me daddy next?"

He punctuates the accusation with a sharp, searing slap against the middle of your ass. You're sure he's watching as your flesh bounces according to his abuse, but he acts like he's so above you, like you're a sex-crazed playboy bunny archetype for wanting some pain with your pleasure.

You're expecting another slap but it doesn't come, instead you feel two rough fingers prodding mercilessly against your entrance. Thankfully, you're decently wet from the way Anakin's been bruising your ass, so there's little resistance, and not much discomfort even as he bullies his way inside.

"You're soaked." He judges, eyes surely scrutinizing the spread of your puffy cunt lips that he can see behind your ass, "This is really- pathetic. I'm hitting you and you're getting wet from it. Is that really how you wanna leave a wet spot on my pants? From being smacked around?"

You gasp desperately for air, grinding against his lap just as pathetically as he'd accused you of. When you raise your head to speak, to try and defend any shred of dignity you may have left, you feel a sharp pain in your neck, and register too late that it's anakin's hand having shoved your face back down towards the carpet. He keeps his metal hand firmly, steadily on your head, and you breathe shakily as your wide eyes stare at the floor. Your cunt throbs.

"Don't fucking-" He breathes like a crazed animal, like a dragon piping smoke from its snout, "Don't lift your head up like you're better than this. Keep your face in the floor. All you deserve to look at is my boots, because right now, you're dirtier than they are."

You manage to choke out a 'Yes, Anakin' without thinking. It feels right, succumbing to his power. Even if you could get out. You grind against his lap again, begging for another bruise.

"That's exactly how someone who gets off on this should speak," You can hear his breathing again, raw and ragged as he thrives on dominance. His hand lowers again, against the flesh of your right ass cheek to leave a burning mark in its wake, "And every time you sit down for the next week, you're going to feel this. And every time you feel this, I want you to remember that your pussy is leaking because I'm beating you up. Does that make you feel good?"

It's a yes and it's a no. It lights shame within your chest, but that shame is a candle that drips warm sticky wax down your ribs and into your core, which tingles anticipatorily with pleasure.

"Does it make you feel good?" Anakin repeats, louder, angrier this time.

"Yes!" You shout, giving in to the answer prevailing in your mind, the one that had come to you without logic's involvement.

"Remember that." He commands, and it's deliciously ominous as he plants another smack against your ass, "Remember that you get off like this. With your face in the floor and bruises on your ass."

[wendichester]

Hi! Can you do one showcasing all the ways the reader protects/watches out for Dean. He’s always the afterthought for everyone because they just expect him to lead and be strong. Your last response about his version of Heaven probably being bittersweet had me sad! So, reader putting her foot down for her man, please! Reminds him he’s hers and not a soldier, not expendable. When someone comes up with a plot that requires him to sacrifice, she speaks up for him tells them to F off

read the heaven bit first .ᐟ

so first off, let's clarify the core dynamic here: 𖤐 dean is everyone's weapon or leader, but never their priority. it's always let's save the world, instead of let's keep each other safe. 𖤐 everyone is just used to him sacrificing himself because that's his default setting. 𖤐 you ( aka reader ) flip the damn table and say not anymore. it's the prompt he's not a weapon, he's mine and i'm lowkey totally here for it.

‧₊˚✩彡 the pattern that needs breaking sam loves dean but tends to go along with dangerous plans, trusting dean will handle it. cas is always focused on the mission, kind of emotionally stunted, tends to expect dean to endure because he has. mary and john? ugh. never really saw him--as said previously--saw a soldier, not a son. jack is a whole celestial being born with a messiah complex. thinks sacrifice = love because that was what dean and the others always showed him too. they all value dean, but none of them really protect him. because they think they don't have to. but you do.

‧₊˚✩彡 moments where you put your foot down 𓂃⋆ you speak up against the plans where dean is bait or the one bargin in as the distraction. and god damn the moment you do? everyone's stunned into silence. dean most of all. because he doesn't expect anyone to stand up to him--to stop the mission for him. 𓂃⋆ they always assume dean will handle dangerous people. but not you. "no. he's not your buffer. try talking to your own damn shady contacts." maybe you even go instead of him once and everyone's like oh, okay. 𓂃⋆ dean tries to pull the "if i don't come back" speech. you cut him off. "don't you dare act like you're a ghost in front of me. you come back. you always come back." you don't romanticize his self-destruction like others do. you hate it. 𓂃⋆ cas suggests an angelic solution that risks dean's soul. like, maybe siphoning something through him or binding him to a sigil. "use anyone else. he's not your empty vessel." cas looks conflicted. you stand between him and dean and he's flabbergasted like she's actually challeging a damn angel. 𓂃⋆ mary mentions all the things dean's good at and it's all war-related. "you ever ask him what he actually wants to be good at?" it's awkward. it's uncomfortable. maybe even explosive. but it cracks open something for dean. he's never heard someone challenge his family on his behalf.

‧₊˚✩彡 the emotional undercurrent of this: dean doesn't think he's allowed to be safe. he doesn't even notice when people don't choose him because it's so normalized. you saying "you are not theirs. you are mine." is like pouring honey on a lifetime of bruises. it's not just protective--it's possessive, but in a way that restores his sense of self. you're saying you're not just worth fighting for. you're worth keeping safe. every damn time.

They’re talking about him like he isn’t standing right there.

Like he’s just a checklist item. Like his life is a resource—burnable, forgettable, expendable.

Dean’s got that mask on. The one he thinks is subtle—stone face, arms crossed, jaw ticking every few seconds like a time bomb. You can tell he’s already accepted the role. The “if it gets ugly, I’ll take the fall” card.

You’ve seen this play before.

You hated it the first time.

So when Sam starts laying out the plan—meticulously, logically, with words like “timed entry” and “distract the hellhounds long enough,” and then casually drops Dean’s name as bait, your hands curl into fists without thinking.

“Sorry, what?” Your voice cuts in like a blade.

They blink. You never interrupt these planning sessions. You’re the quiet one. The observer. The one with a hand on Dean’s back under the table while the world maps out how to use him.

Sam looks confused. “It’s just that he’s the best shot we have at getting the demon away from the door. You know Dean—he can take it.”

Take it.

Like he’s a wall. Like he’s a gun.

Not a man.

Dean shifts beside you. He’s about to say “It’s fine”—you can feel it in your bones—but you’re already standing.

“No. He’s not doing it.”

The room goes quiet.

Dean tilts his head, looking up at you like you just spoke Enochian. You never do this. But now? Now you’re fire in a gasoline world.

“I’m serious,” you continue. “You all act like he’s made of Kevlar and pure damn luck, but he’s tired. He’s bleeding from that werewolf hunt yesterday. And I don’t care how good of a shot he is or how much ground he can cover—he’s not being used as a sacrifice so you all can sleep at night.”

Sam looks like you slapped him.

Cas shifts like maybe he agrees but doesn’t know if he’s allowed to say it.

And Dean… God, Dean looks like you just gave him breath after drowning.

You step closer to him. You don’t even care how dramatic it looks. Your fingers find the edge of his sleeve, tugging it like a lifeline.

“He is not your weapon. He is not your armor. He is mine.”

The words hit the floor like thunder. No one speaks.

You kneel slightly and tap his knee, forcing him to look you in the eyes.

“You hear me, Dean?” you whisper, just for him now. “You’re not the one who has to go first. You’re not the shield anymore. Not when I’m here.”

He swallows hard. His eyes are glassy, like maybe no one’s ever said that before. Like maybe he forgot he was allowed to hear it.

You straighten back up and look at the room.

“Find another plan.”

And they do. They scramble. They rearrange. Because your tone is sharp and final and God help anyone who tries to touch him without your say-so.

Later, you’re patching him up on the edge of a dusty motel bed. He’s shirtless, bruised, quiet.

“You meant all that?” he asks, voice low.

You blink at him. “What kind of question is that?”

“I just… no one’s ever…” He trails off. Like it hurts to say it out loud. “It felt good. Hearing it. You fighting for me.”

You look at him—really look at him.

He’s so used to doing. Saving. Bleeding. Leading. Everyone thinks he’s bulletproof because he acts like he is. But you see the cracks. You kiss them. You love them.

“I’ll always fight for you,” you murmur, smoothing your fingers over the bruise on his side. “You’re not alone anymore, Dean. You don’t have to carry the weight. Not while I’m still breathing.”

He leans forward, cups your face like you’re the miracle. Kisses you slow. Deep. Desperate.

“Thank you,” he breathes against your lips.

You pull back just enough to whisper:

“Don’t thank me. Just promise you’ll let me protect you, too.”

His voice breaks a little when he says, “I will.”

And you know he means it. For once.

[eternalsa2z]

Retraining

Ashton Inspirion was one of those guys who never got out. He lived in a different world…the virtual world. He was always gaming, tinkering with his computer, isolated from the rest of school.

Virtual learning suited him, so he signed up for a class called 'Retraining'. He thought it'd be an easy CS course, especially since it was filled with a bunch of ditzy Sigma Lambda Tau sorority girls. It was different that he expected. More of a virtual reality concept where he had to create and develop a model.

All the other girls in class were building hot bimbo models. So Ashton thought he'd try it. He built up his online wardrobe with pink, tight fitting clothes. Changed his hair to be long and blonde. Even discovered how to hack the NSFW settings and give himself the biggest set of fake tits and lips that seemed possible.

The other girls LOVED him for that and started sharing tips and tricks. Ashton had never had friends…let alone BFFs…and started to really get into the role. Spending more time in the game than any before. Really focusing on making 'Ashli' dim and ditzy and doll-like.

He found it easier the deeper it got into the system. Controlling his character using a full-body VR set built by SluTech that was a required part of the course. Using voice inputs to say 'Um' and 'Like' a lot for a valley-girl speech pattern. Walking with a wiggle and arms akimbo to get the perfect bimbo gait down. It became easier to develop Ashli by just being Ashli.

Little did the student know all-consuming the course really was. Outside the game, VR headset finally taken off her long blonde hair, Ashli 'AI' Insipid stared blankly at a screen. She was pretty sure she had logged out. But she was staring at her character. The plump, pouty pink lips. The cute pink top. The dumb ditzy look. Was this the game…or real life?

The truth was too much for the dumbed down doll to process. The virtual model was a role model for how she transformed. Her big fake tits were now real. She had been reprogrammed, turned into her perfect image.

Even if she could comprehend the changes, it didn't matter. All Ashli cared about was that she was late to meet her BFFs! So instead of slipping on the headset, she slipped on a cute skirt and some stripper heels, and trotted over to SLT with a wiggle and a giggle. Just like she had been retrained.

[blaydie]

ᥫ᭡ Hidden Eyes — “Stop trying to deny it. You must understand that rest is essential to every form of life. You are no exception.” Jiaoqiu x GN reader.

Word count: 1.8k

Contains: Jiaoqiu x GN reader, fluff, subtle jealousy, protective Jiaoqiu (in a good, non-toxic way!), light teasing, clingy Jiaoqiu, kisses, long cuddles, Jiaoqiu taking care of reader, + more!

Rousing from your slumber with a pounding headache, you sit up in the unfamiliar environment and groan. No matter what you do to recall your previous whereabouts nothing comes to mind. A knitted blanket covers you, and your head is propped against a plush pillow. After batting your lashes a few times to clear the haze cast over your eyes, you are able to make out that you’re inside a living space of some sort. 

Overhearing the shuffling in the other room, Jiaoqiu turns the heat down on the stove and saunters into your view, an apron snugly tied around his slim figure. He greets you with his usual friendly smile, now approaching your resting body. Crouching down, he presses his hand to your forehead, his tail swaying slowly behind. 

“Didn’t I tell you to stop over-exhausting yourself?” He feigns disappointment, letting his breath breeze down onto your face.

“I haven’t done anything to be exhausted.” 

“Stop trying to deny it. You must understand that rest is essential to every form of life. You are no exception.”

“But—”

“I ordered you to stay in bed and you go out on a date the next day. Don’t be ignorant.” He opens his eyes, glaring at you while his lips remain in that pleasant expression. Though his smile seems sweet, his gaze is a threat.

“A date?” You raise a brow, unaware you had gone out with another person, let alone left your house this morning. 

“Hm?” Jiaoqiu cocks his head to the side, tapping his index finger against your cheek. “You don’t remember?”

“No. Who was I—”

“Never mind.” Jiaoqiu drags out his speech, squishing your face before standing up straight. “Your soup should be done!”

Jiaoqiu had always had an unsettling energy around him. Upon meeting him a few months ago, you had noticed his strange behaviour patterns, though no one else did. It may just be in your head; you have a common issue with judging new people in your life too harshly. Trusting a stranger takes a lot of effort, but since becoming acquainted with Moze, you realise that the image you crafted of Jiaoqiu may be a spout of nonsense. He has nothing bad to say about him, he praises his work ethic and commitment. For someone who always presents himself so content, there must be some facade in place.

It didn’t take long for you to become friends with both men. They were welcoming and extremely kind; even Feixiao had surprised you with her demeanour behind closed doors. Knowing you have a group of people to fall back on when things get rocky is reassuring. Having a person like Jiaoqiu in your life is a bigger benefit than it is a drawback. Your health is his main concern, making it clear that it should always be your priority above all else. It’s a topic he doesn’t deal with lightly. 

With the steaming bowl of soup in hand, Jiaoqiu returns to his living space and kneels beside you. When you went to free your arms from the swaddle you’re in, he held you down, shaking his head. Raising the soup spoon, he brings it towards your lips, waiting for an opening. 

“I’ll do this since you can’t follow simple instructions.” His tone was snappy, his ears flopping down while he rubbed the spoon against your closed lips. The smell of the soup was enticing, prepared to the standard of all of his other meals. 

“I can feed—”

When you opened your mouth wide enough, he inserted the spoon and dumped the liquid in, grinning at you when you swallowed it. Since you are too tired to protest, you accept defeat and comply with his demands, drinking the soup as he feeds it to you.

“Is it tasty?” Jiaoqiu rubs his thumb over the small spill travelling down your jaw, licking the remnants from his fingers.

“It’s nice. You already know that.”

“The chef appreciates your compliments.” Jiaoqiu hums, stroking your face with two fingers.

Whether it be the heat of the soup or the tenderness in his touch, you felt yourself becoming warm. You began squirming under the blanket, the bowl of soup almost empty. After the final few spoonfuls, he places the leftovers on the coffee table and takes you into his arms. You whine, nuzzling your face into his chest.

“I know. You’ll be in bed soon.” He speaks quietly, trekking up the stairs and pushing his bedroom door open with his back.

Lowering you carefully, he lies you on the mattress and covers you over with the duvet. Undoing the bow on his apron, he tosses it into the laundry basket and climbs in beside you. Dragging you over, he wraps an arm around you and holds you in his embrace, his tail brushing up and down your leg in a soothing motion.

“Get some sleep. I’ll watch over you. We’ll see how you are in the morning.” His lips are pressed against your neck when he talks, the movement almost feeling as though he is pampering you with tender kisses. Perhaps he was, but you don’t feel the need to raise attention to it when it feels so good. Within seconds, you fall back into a deep slumber. 

With your droopy head hanging low, he supports you with an arm and wraps himself around you, burying his nose into your flesh. Jiaoqiu loved your scent. It bothers him when you’re away for too long, always lingering on his mind. No matter what he does to replicate it, he can’t craft it to perfection. Burning different candles, sniffing perfumes you use—anything he could think of led to failure. It would explain why he’s been lingering around for longer than he would usually. 

While his recent observations have been unknown to you, it grew increasingly harder for him to leave you alone. He would never want to scare you by admitting all of this—none of his actions carry ill intent. He simply believes you wouldn’t understand his reasoning due to you being human.

It was when you were at the food market that he noticed a shift in your scent. A smell of death. The day prior, you had received a rough blow to the head in battle which had left you tremendously dizzy. It took you two hours to stand, and even then you were still clinging onto his clothes for support. He gave you medicine and advice which seemed to go in one ear and slip out of the other. While with the dark-haired man who was accompanying you, you stumbled backwards and collapsed to the ground before he could catch you. That’s when Jiaoqiu decided to reveal himself from the shadows and usher you back to safety.

That barely present beat of your pulse was something he’ll never forget. He should’ve known you wouldn’t take your medicine; you’re usually one to forget things like that. You were ice cold in his arms, fingernails darkening to an almost navy shade. Seeing corpses was not uncommon, but seeing your corpse was something he knew he wouldn't be able to handle. He just wishes that you’d listen to him. While he’s not angry at you, it still upsets him that you disregard your health so easily like that. The warmth you radiate now brings him comfort; he keeps his face buried in the crook of your neck, waiting there as time ticks throughout the evening.

Unsure of how many hours have gone by, you stretch out your legs and reach to rub your eyes, only to find another hand with its fingers linked between yours. Jiaoqiu’s soft breathing was directly down your ear, his hand squeezing yours as he mumbled something barely audible. You knew Jiaoqiu was touchy, but the position you found yourself in made you flustered. 

“Morning…” He whispers, kissing the side of your face. His voice was raspy and his tail was still brushing against your skin.

“How long was I out?”

“Nearly eight hours. You slept through the entire night.” Even though you’re conversing, he doesn’t release you from the cuddle he trapped you in.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“To you? Yesterday?”

“Yes. Why am I here?”

“Mm, I saw you unconscious at the food market. Your dark-haired friend didn’t know what to do with you, so I told him I’d handle it.”

“Dan Heng?”

“How could I forget?” Jiaoqiu responds, his voice laced with sarcasm while he pulls you close. “I’ve heard a lot of that name from you.”

“Well, he—”

“I wasn’t asking to hear more.” Jiaoqiu nips you with his canines, earning a small yelp. “What I want to know is why you didn’t take your medicine. Do you know how dangerous that is?”

“I was going to take it when I got back home from shopping…”

“No. You take it at the time I tell you to. There are reasons behind it.”

“Did I make you mad?”

“I’m not angry; I was worried about you. I’m tired of seeing you push yourself to the side. You’re just as important as anyone else in your life. Other people can wait when you need to put your health first.”

His chest falls as he exhales, hurling you upwards to rest his lips on the top of your head. 

“All I want you to do is listen. I’m not yelling at you.”

“I’ll listen. I promise.” You smile at him, watching as he closes his eyes from the relief of hearing those words. “You’re awfully clingy today.”

“I can’t help it. You made me sick with nerves; my emotions are not behaving as they should be.”

“Besides…” Jiaoqiu trails off, redirecting the topic of conversation. “If you’re going out for food, just come to me instead. I have the superior options.”

“You just want me to be around you so you can make sure I’m okay.”

“Is that such a bad thing? I thought you’d appreciate the fact I care for your well-being. And for your knowledge,” Jiaoqiu leans his face closer to yours, “I would’ve caught you before you hit the ground. Foxian reflexes are like no other.”

He pouts before connecting his lips with yours, sharing a brief peck momentarily until he backs off. His thumb rubs under your lower lip, his eyes widening as he sees your smile grow. Repositioning himself, he pushes down on you and engulfs you in his desire with another kiss.

It was both fiery and packed with raw emotion, his trembling hand stroking your cheek. You have no idea about the amount of dire situations you wind up in, but those near-death moments are something that will forever haunt him. As the kiss breaks, you feel his tail batting against your leg rapidly, his ears twitching from thrill. 

“I have some more medical advice. Are you going to listen to it this time?”

“Tell me.”

“Based on my judgement, I think it would be best if you stayed here and got proper rest for the next few days. Cancel your plans and let me take care of you. You’ll be better before you know it.”

“You cancel for me.” You reach into your pocket and pull out your phone, “Hearing a doctor’s note directly from the source would cut the hassle.”

[orellazalonia]

Escape Room Chaos

Summary: You take Steve and Bucky to an escape room for a fun, relaxing evening, but things quickly spiral into chaos. Both somehow ignore the obvious clues in favor of dramatic theories and property damage. You’re just trying to survive until you can successfully escape without a lawsuit. (Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes)

Word Count: 1.6k+

Main Masterlist

You really should’ve known better.

The moment Bucky rolled up his sleeves and said “This’ll be easy,” you felt the first ripple of doom. You’d booked the escape room as a fun, harmless activity. Something like a little post-mission team bonding that didn’t involve hand-to-hand combat or collapsing buildings. You even picked a cheesy detective theme, thinking they’d enjoy something grounded and puzzle-y. Maybe even quiet.

You were wrong.

The three of you stood in the lobby of “The Great Escape,” surrounded by plastic magnifying glasses, dusty fedoras, and a suspiciously chipper staff member in suspenders and a fake mustache. She gave you the usual speech: 60 minutes to escape, no real danger, don’t break the props, yada yada.

Steve nodded solemnly like he was being briefed before an intense mission. Bucky? He crossed his arms and smirked. You could already tell his competitive switch had flipped.

The room itself was dimly lit and lined with fake wood panels. A ticking clock glowed red above the door while there were clues scattered everywhere ranging from files, books, old telephones, and even a fake fireplace. As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, Steve took a deep breath like he was about to deliver a speech at a press conference.

“We should split up to cover more ground. Look for patterns, numbers, keys. And be sure to keep a level head.”

You blinked. “It’s not a hostage situation, Cap.”

But Steve was already kneeling to inspect a lockbox with the intensity of a man deciphering enemy codes. Meanwhile, Bucky was tapping along the walls with the knuckles of his metal hand.

“Could be a hidden panel,” He muttered.

“Could be drywall,” You replied, dragging your palm down your face.

Ten minutes in, you had two clues solved and one increasingly serious argument about whether the bookshelf was a red herring or not. Bucky was now trying to climb it.

“James Buchanan Barnes, get down before you collapse the whole set!” You hissed.

He looked down, half-smirking. “It’s not real, doll. Look.” He gave it a little shove, just enough for it to creak ominously. You glared.

Steve, across the room, had located a cipher wheel and was mumbling to himself. “It’s gotta be a Caesar shift. Or maybe Morse code…”

“Steve, it’s literally a riddle that says ‘Look in the desk drawer,’” You pointed out, pulling it open and revealing a key taped inside.

He looked genuinely offended. “They’re dumbing it down.”

You exhaled through your nose. “Yes, they’re dumbing it down for people who aren’t 100-year-old super soldiers who do escape rooms like they’re battle strategy.”

By minute twenty, you were regretting everything. Steve had taken charge like a squad commander and Bucky had declared himself the “wildcard” of the team, which essentially meant “loose cannon with a metal arm and no patience.”

You were the only one actually reading the instructions on the wall.

By minute thirty, you’d reached the room’s second stage which was a secret chamber revealed when Bucky yanked on a wall sconce you definitely weren’t supposed to touch.

You all froze when the wall creaked and groaned like a bad horror movie. Then, with the slow drama of a B-grade haunted house, the panel slid open.

Steve actually clapped, cheering.

“I knew there was a hidden passage!”

“No, you didn’t,” You said, stepping cautiously inside. “You were still trying to decode that cipher wheel that said, ‘The butler did it.’”

The new room was darker with a desk, some faux-blood splatter, and a very questionable plastic skeleton slumped over a chair. Its skull was tilted sideways with a bowler hat perched on top of its head. There was also a magnifying glass clutched in one bony hand, and a suspicious envelope glued to its chest with “CLUE #6” scrawled across it in marker.

Steve stared at it. “I think we’re meant to… talk to him?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Interrogate the corpse.”

You opened your mouth to say something, then thought better of it. You just took out your phone and started recording. For science… and for future blackmail.

Steve crouched beside the skeleton, folding his hands like he was addressing a witness. “We’re here to help. If you can tell us who killed you, we’ll bring them to justice.”

You bit your lip so hard trying not to laugh, you swore you tasted blood.

Bucky leaned over the desk and yanked the envelope from the skeleton’s chest.

Steve’s jaw tightened. “You’re contaminating the scene.”

“It’s a twenty dollar prop, Steve. I don’t think it’s going to trial.”

Then Bucky poked the skeleton’s head, making it fall off and clatter dramatically to the floor.

Everyone stared at it. Steve looked personally offended.

You raised an eyebrow. “Did you just decapitate our only lead?”

“It… it was barely hanging on anyway,” Bucky muttered, setting the skull back with exaggerated care. “These things happen.”

Steve knelt beside the fallen plastic remains, eyes full of regret. “He served his purpose. We thank him for his sacrifice.”

You threw your hands in the air. “It’s a skeleton, not a fallen comrade!”

The intercom crackled. “Hey guys,” The perky staff member’s voice rang out, “Just a reminder: Please don’t disassemble the props. Sir with the metal arm? Yes, you. Please don’t interrogate the decor.”

Bucky gave a small chuckle. Steve immediately stood at attention. “Sorry, ma’am.”

You looked between your two supersoldier boyfriends and the half-decapitated skeleton, then turned toward the camera in the corner and gave it a deadpan stare. “I just wanted a nice evening. That’s all. Just puzzles and maybe a little fun but no. Instead I get a dramatized cold case and two very intense golden retrievers with trauma.”

“Hey,” Bucky said with a shrug. “You’re the one who invited us.”

You squinted at him. “…You know what? That one’s on me.”

By minute forty-five, you were starting to suspect the real puzzle wasn’t the escape room. It was figuring out how you were going to survive this without needing a drink afterward. Bucky had taken it upon himself to test “structural weaknesses” in the fake brick walls. His version of “testing” was punching one lightly. With his metal arm.

The wall cracked and the room went silent.

From the intercom: “Please do not damage the set. Also, we are not responsible for injuries caused by over enthusiastic participation. Thank you!”

You turned on him like a storm. “What happened to ‘this’ll be easy’?”

“It is easy. The wall just looked suspicious,” Bucky replied, wiping fake cobwebs from his sleeve like a man with no regrets.

“It’s foam!” You yelled. “It’s suspicious because it’s clearly styrofoam!”

Steve, meanwhile, had discovered a locked chest with an old rotary phone on top. He was pacing in front of it like he was expecting it to ring with instructions from headquarters.

“I think it’s a code,” He murmured. “We dial something, and it opens. Maybe if we spell out a word using the numbers-”

“Steve,” You interrupted, pinching the bridge of your nose, “The clue literally says: ‘Dial 911 to unlock the final key.’ That’s not a code. That’s just instructions.”

Steve blinked. “Oh.”

He dialed 911 on the dusty phone. The chest popped open with a ding and a dramatic puff of dry ice that startled all three of you.

Inside was a black keycard and a note that said “Final door: 5 minutes remain.”

Bucky snatched the keycard. “Let’s finish this thing. I’ve got a hot date with a milkshake and a nap.”

Steve furrowed his brow. “We should think this carefully and plan. There could be traps in the last room.”

You looked between them and snorted. “What, like the staff’s gonna throw in a booby trap just to spice it up?”

“…They could,” Steve muttered. “It’d be unexpected, that’s good design.”

You made a mental note to ban both of them from anything resembling a mystery game for the rest of your natural life.

Then came The Moment.

You all stepped into the final room that was all dark with eerie music playing from a hidden speaker, and a blinking red countdown above the last door. Dramatic fog rolled out across the floor.

There was a button on the wall.

Just a red, glowing button with a sign above it that said:

“EMERGENCY ESCAPE – DO NOT PRESS UNLESS YOU GIVE UP.”

You hadn’t even opened your mouth to say “don’t” before Bucky pressed it. The room lights blared on and the music stopped. The countdown froze at 00:03 as you all stood in stunned silence.

The intercom crackled again.

“…So, you technically escaped, but also forfeited. That’s… a first.”

Bucky blinked. “What? It said emergency. I figured it’d blow something up. Or, like… open a trapdoor. Something dramatic.”

Steve looked personally betrayed. “We were three seconds away from winning with full completion.”

“You were still looking for tripwires,” You snapped. “I was reading the last clue. He just wanted to blow something up!”

Bucky looked sheepish. “You can’t give me a glowing red button and not expect me to press it. That’s on them.”

You stared at the ceiling like it might offer you divine intervention. “I invited two enhanced soldiers into a puzzle-themed children’s attraction. This is my fault. I accept that.”

As the final door clicked open and the staff came in to escort you out, one of them gave you a pitying smile.

“Hey,” She said brightly, “At least no one tried to climb into the air vents this time!”

You blinked. “Wait. That’s an option?”

Steve immediately looked intrigued.

You grabbed both their arms. “Nope. Out now. I’m buying you both ice cream so you don’t break anything else.”

[whateveriwant]

Hello, i hope you dont mind if i request agian! Could I get TF141 with an S/O who are just super prone to panic attack?

These are not meant to be taken as mental health advice. I'm just playing around here <3

Soap

The first time it happened, he didn't know what was going on. The sudden heavy breathing, the tremors, the loss of speech; he thought you were dying, honestly

It nearly sent him into a panic as he tried to figure out what he could do to help. Should you stay put or should you be taken to hospital? He just didn't know

However, once it had passed and you were able to better explain the situation, Soap was pulling you into a hug, the biggest breath of relief escaping him knowing you were going to be alright

He wasn't “happy” per se to learn this is something you struggle with regularly, but knowing there's at least something he could do to help in the future put his mind at ease

Nowadays he's got the drill down pat, so when he sees the signs an attack is incoming, he's whisking you to a safe environment where you can attempt to de-stress

Oftentimes it leads to him sitting beside you out on a curb somewhere, his warm hand rubbing soft circles into your back as he comforts you through it

Gaz

From the second he notices you start to pull away from him, Gaz is immediately on top of it, deploying a technique he's quite familiar with

“Tell me five things you can see,” he says, unbothered by having to repeat himself when you don't respond because he did not seriously just ask you that right now

But after enough prompting by him, you shakily list out five items, wet eyes darting around the room as you try to take stock of your surroundings

Once you do as bid, he'll continue, “Now four things you can hear.” And now you're starting to think you see where he's going with this

He'll work his way through all five senses, counting down to one, and once he reaches the final, you find that your pulse has slowed tremendously and your tremor has stopped entirely

Afterwards, you give him a shy thanks, asking how he knew that would work. “Simple,” he tells you. “Used to do it with my sister when we were young. It helped her then, so I thought it might help you now.”

Price

He takes the most heavy handed approach when trying to bring you down from such a rocky high. And while some people might find it smothering, you just see it as grounding

“Hey. Look at me,” his order is firm though his voice remains purposefully gentle. “Don't look anywhere else, just look at me. That's it. Just focus on me.”

If he has to, he'll even push a finger against your chin until you're meeting his eye and holding it, trying to focus on his soothing words instead of the anxious thoughts racing through your head

Slowly and deliberately, he'll breathe in through his nose then out through his mouth, guiding you to follow along with his measured pattern

If that's still not enough, he'll then take your hand beneath his and hold it over his heart, letting its strong, steady rhythm lull you back to a calmer state

“You alright?” he questions once you've settled down again. When you nod and assure him you are, he'll kiss your temple, promising, “I've got you, dear. Always.”

Ghost

When he realized what was happening with you, he quickly jumped into action, but in a way that was completely unexpected

“Remember when you first took me out for sushi and I didn't know wasabi was hot?” he asks you seemingly out of the blue. “Ate a whole spoonful before I realized. Burned like hell going down. But that was nothin’ compared to when it came out again later.”

The memory of that night stirs to life in your mind, and through your rapid breaths and trembling lips, you're able to crack the barest of smiles

He continues, “Or remember when I got sprayed by that skunk in the garden? You made me sleep on the couch for three days. Said I smelled like a garbage bin’s arsehole.”

That memory has you huffing out a short, low chuckle, and though you don't notice it, your pulse begins to hammer a little slower

And so he keeps going, distracting you with funny memories and personal anecdotes until all you're doing is smiling and laughing brightly, totally forgetting what had made you panic in the first place

[meinkatzchen]

ur oc It just cute, really caught my attention and I'm curious now

How is kitty and strade friendship?

Friendship? Seriously, anon?- friends are not tied or kidnepped! Okay, these are all jokes, I understand that you mean their relationship :)

And in her story, In short: for her (and for Ren, actually) he became the one who took away a piece of humanity, giving something in return.

Mist is quite mediocre in many skills, if you take creative and household chores, she's just a law student who always wanted to be a lawyer for a good cause - to defend the innocent who were convicted without evidence. I think if she had said something like that in front of Strade, he would have burst out laughing and would have teased her for a long time for this thought, gradually convincing her that there is no justice in the world at all and that even he could be released from custody if he hid the evidence and paid a lot of money. It's cruel, but at least he knocked the rose-colored glasses out of her head.

But he may be curious about her, seeing that she is learning quickly, but especially trying to do everything to reduce the pain that she is having a hard time enduring, and to avoid torture: to resort to trickery; to offer to torture someone else with her own hands; if Ren decides to stand up for her someday, she will not stop him and etc - for Strade, all this may even be funny. Actually, he became the person who will gradually put the seed of a charismatic manipulator in her and allow it to develop, which will sprout in the future.

It always seemed to me that the first few months, Mist watched Strade very carefully and closely to understand his behavior pattern, to understand what makes him happy, what angers him, what leads to punishment, and what leads to gifts. In the future, such a pattern will be fixed in her everyday life, thanks to which she will gradually-gradually reach her heights and surround herself with devoted people.

If, as Gato wrote, Ren subconsciously competes with Strade in cruelty, which would really be typical for a male, then Mist does not compete, but draws on the skills of manipulation, charismatic speeches, in general knowledge from the category of "what to do to get this and that".

…But if we throw away all seriousness and return to moments of calm in the house, then he would definitely like to tease her. For example, he would take her favorite cute plush animals, which she kept at night to calm down, and do various inappropriate things with them, or knowing how much she monitors hygiene and the level of hair on her body, he would hide her razor and various soaps and shower gels. What a hog!

[mrcrawly]

Dr. House is some of the best unintentional autistic representation I have seen in popular media

I think the title is a slight overstatement, but I honestly feel this way. I'm not finished with House MD by ANY means so do keep that in mind, but I'm almost finished with season 2 so this is based off what I have seen.

Also: I am aware that there is an episode where they discuss the possibility that House has Asperger's. Obviously that term has fallen out of favor because Asperger was, you know, a Nahtzee, but I am going to emphasize that House has particularly low-support needs. My source is that I'm autistic and this is a topic I'm relatively familiar with. (Also. please take this with a grain of salt because David Shore also created "The Good Doctor" which is a comparatively pretty poor representation of autism, but I'm going to talk about House MD in its own vacuum.)

Lack of knowledge or concern for social cues. I don't really think this needs explaining, but House doesn't seem to have much regard or respect for social norms. He doesn't care much for social approval or maintaining relationships. I don't necessarily characterize this as specifically being an autistic trait, because this can greatly vary, but this is something I see in myself and other autistic people.

Strong sense of justice and morals. I see a lot of people calling House a "sociopath" simply because he isn't particularly empathetic. But the word sociopath gets thrown around a lot and it really doesn't characterize him well at all. I would argue that House feels cognitive empathy rather than the more emotional sense of empathy that most people experience, but equating empathy and morality is a big no-go. House has little concern for some ethical principles, as the show points out pretty often, but House is never looking to hurt anybody. House is always pretty dry and easily annoyed, but the only time we see him openly angry and upset is when someone endangers a patient. When Chase fucks up the angiogram, potentially putting a woman's life in danger, he holds it against him for ages. And in "The Mistake," when a woman dies and it has to be determined whose fault it was, House yells at Chase in the middle of the lobby over his negligence. Also, House does actually have empathy when it's necessary. He typically softens himself around younger patients and will make an effort to be calm, and when Stacy admits that she and Mark have been fighting and becomes upset, he tries to help her calm down and doesn't try to make the situation about himself. When he thinks that his "nemesis" from school is faking the results of his migraine medicine, he goes out of his way to prove that he's right - partially because, yeah, he wants to be right and get Weber back - but also because he sees this as cheating, and knows it's ultimately harming people.

Very few, specific interests. House doesn't seem to have a lot that he's interested in. His job is one of them, because he gets joy and satisfaction out of solving medical problems. It's also established that he's deeply invested in General Hospital and monster trucks (although I wasn't sure if that was a House thing or a Wilson thing? But he seemed pretty excited about it too). Other than that, he doesn't have many obvious or noteworthy things he's interested in.

Difficulty maintaining interpersonal relationships. Wilson is House's only friend, and House seems to be (mostly) content with that. He cares about other people, in his own strange way, but he consistently struggles to create and maintain personal relationships, whether because of his disregard for social niceties or because of his fear of vulnerability. Again, this may not necessarily be in relation to autism, but it's worth noting.

Odd speech patterns. I'm sick of media making it seem like all autistic people can't comprehend sarcasm. It is common for autistic people to take things literally, but autistic people also sometimes use sarcasm and metaphors more than the average person in verbal communication. I do this all the time. House is constantly saying weird, offbeat things, or making strange, vague metaphors, especially when he's deep in thought.

Stimming. Throwing his ball at the wall. Pacing. Spinning his cane around. Tapping his cane on the floor. Spinning it like a baton when he's alone in the room and trying to think. Sometimes he also nods his head back and forth when he's thinking.

Routine. This one is a little hard to spot, because House actually does seem to thrive when things are changing or new things happen. I see this mostly in House wearing the same things all the time. He's usually wearing some button-up and a blazer/jacket over it, and typically jeans and the same pair of shoes. The shoes are most likely for his comfort, but sometimes autistic people like to wear the same things a lot because it's what's most comfortable or they don't have to worry about unpredictability. Also, it seems like he eats the same thing a lot, since everyone knows he gets a dry Reuben sandwich.

This is just what I noticed and based on my personal experiences as an autistic person. This doesn't mean I think the show discusses autism in the most graceful or meaningful way - I just really like to break down my favorite characters and analyze them.

[nightplvmes]

*.⊹˚ ZAYNE | before midnight (valentine's day)

── ◜zayne x fem!reader — ◜short special | specials from the rest of the LIs on my profile ★ masterlist here

A part of her had to admit that she had expected to do something more tonight—maybe go out for dinner or at least eat together. Having lunch in his hospital office didn’t sound like the best plan, according to her best friend. But to her, it had been sweet, even romantic.

Maybe she had let her best friend get into her head too much, because now she was starting to wonder if it had really been enough. But either way, Zayne was working late, and surgery wasn’t exactly a quick task. Even if they had wanted to do something, they couldn’t.

When she got home and slipped under the sheets, it wasn’t hard to distract herself. Her favorite movie and a box of chocolates—stolen from her sister—were enough. Maybe she and Zayne could do something together the next weekend when he was free.

Her eyes started to close not long after. Even though her favorite movie was playing, keeping her eyes open felt almost impossible. Her body relaxed, and seconds later she almost fell asleep.

A pair of arms wrapping around her made her jolt up. She gasped, trying to pull away, but whoever was behind her held her in place.

“It’s me. You’re okay.”

Zayne’s voice made her instantly relax in his arms. Carefully, she turned to face him, still pressed against his chest. She had to be dreaming. She had to be. Zayne was supposed to be in surgery tonight—there was no way he was actually here. Holding her.

"Zaynie…” Her fingers brushed over his cheek, as if making sure he was real and not just another dream. A smile crept onto her lips when she confirmed that, yes, Zayne was actually there. “What are you doing here?”

His arms tightened around her, bringing her closer to him until there is no space between them. His familiar scent enveloped her. She had already made peace with the fact that she wouldn’t be spending Valentine’s Day with him, but somehow, here he was.

"I asked someone to could cover my shift at the hospital and tried to cancel my surgery tonight,” he murmured, burying his face in her hair—a habit he’d picked up recently. She made a mental note not to change her shampoo anytime soon. “My patient wasn’t too happy about it, though. She refused to let another doctor perform the surgery and she was not happy to spend another night without eating.”

When he pulled back slightly to look at her, a small smile played on his lips.

“And she let you go?” she asked, genuinely surprised. She knew how dedicated Zayne was to his work. He had already considered rescheduling her surgery earlier in the week, but his patient had been waiting so long that he just felt bad.

“Well, I told her I had a girlfriend waiting for me at home,” he said, his voice softer as he slowly shifted over her. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and she felt his fingers tracing gentle patterns along her thigh.

Zayne talking about her to a patient? That was new. Not that their relationship was a secret—everyone at the hospital knew. It was kind of hard not to when she spent most of her lunch breaks hanging around just to eat with him.

“And what did she say?” she asked, curious.

She knew his patient. An older woman—sweet and chatty. They had spoken once by accident, and she had actually liked her. Though the woman had never known she was dating Dr. Zayne.

“Let’s just say she gave me a whole speech about how spending time with my girlfriend was way more important,” he muttered, his lips trailing soft kisses from her cheek down to her neck.

She giggled, unsure if he was telling the truth or just making something up. Maybe it wasn’t a complete lie. She had met the older woman, after all, and she was incredibly kind.

For some people, Valentine’s Day didn’t mean much. But for her, it did. And she had told Zayne that, probably with way too much detail. She had decided she wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t take it seriously, but maybe she had been wrong. He had tried to cancel a surgery just to spend the night with her.

“I brought food from your favorite restaurant.”

Those words snapped her right out of her thoughts.

She pulled back slightly, eyes wide with excitement before letting out a small squeal. Her favorite restaurant. It was nearly impossible to get takeout from there, let alone a dinner reservation. She had so many questions. How had Zayne managed it? Had he waited hours just to get their order?

She was about to get up when she felt his firm grip stop her. A second later, he was lifting her into his arms, carrying her toward the kitchen.

They were going to have their own little Valentine’s dinner at home. And honestly? She couldn’t think of a better way to spend the night.