#the least you can do is to know the basics of what you're dealing with before being mean to the dev

[kjzx]

https://www.cheatengine.org/faq.php

I'm a big fan of this FAQ's tone

Don't threaten me with a good time

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than love

Finished up Trauma Team, and I gotta say, the difficulty was consistently way lower than Under the Knife. Even the final Twisted Rosalia operation was easy. But wait, beating the game unlocks hard mode! I'm so sorry, I wasn't being fair, I was judging the difficulty by the first playthrough, I should really try out the hard mode to see if-

I beat hard-mode Twisted Rosalia on the first try.

So yeah, no idea what to expect for UtK2's difficulty

[narcjsistx]

𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐇𝐂𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇���𝐌 | sae, shidou, rin (part two)

— sae itoshi

✶ Sae seems like someone who actually likes to wear bracelets, rings or necklaces, but can't wear them often due to the matchs he plays, where he would risk breaking them. going back to the basic concept, his gifts would probably be matching jewelry, especially rings... so, in case you were someone who wears them and rarely takes them off, he would try to do the same thing. during matches he would hang the ring on a string that he would put in his pocket or around his neck, kissing it before starting the match or squeezing it after scoring a goal

✶ I don't know exactly why, but beyond the canonical fetish for the ass, I see him as someone who would aim to have a partner with well groomed hands, like nails with polish, smooth and without calluses. he's not a big fan of PDA, the only thing he would do is hold your hand and occasionally leave a prying kiss on the back. in private he is certainly more open, and one thing he loves is massaging his partner's hand; it's a gesture he now makes almost unconsciously

✶ Sae didn't have instagram until he met you, you practically forced him to create an account! he resisted his manager telling him to do the same for a long time, but for you it was only enough once. he just put a profile photo, you had to do it for him the bio and some highlights, about past or future matches. a few days later you opened instagram and noticed that his account had a highlights that you hadn't created, entitled "her": you opened it and there were some photos of you, the ones that Sae considered most important (even if he loves them all). needless to say, your heart was about to explode

what would he post on socials ↓

✶ as a child he may have thought about it a bit, but after joining ReAl he didn't have the time to think about it again. he wouldn't mind having a family sooner or later, but probably after winning the U-20 world cup. two children would be fine, possibly a boy and a girl. he just knows that in some way his children would remind him of him and Rin as lil kids

✶ jealosy level: 5/10

✶ flirtiness level: 7/10 (let's specify, ABSOLUTELY NOT in public, but in private maybe he would indulge in some jokes)

✶ pet names: "amor" / "y/n" / "pretty"

—————————————

— ryusei shidou

✶ even if it doesn't seem like it, Shidou is relatively a normal person as a boyfriend... is there a concept of personal space? not that, but otherwise it's normal. the only "flaw" he may have is that he must CONSTANTLY have his hand touching you when you're together, whether it's a hand on your thigh or an arm around your shoulders: he simply needs to feel you. PDA is no big deal for him: he want to kiss you in front of everyone? he will do it, whatever the cost. if you say he can kiss you after winning a game and it's live nationally, why can't he do it in front of his group of homies?

✶ Shidou seems like someone actually very deep, or at least that seems to be described in some parts of his character sheet. Late night chats are literally the level of mental intimacy he hopes to achieve with his partner... he's someone who doesn't sleep much, so he has a lot of energy and hardly gets tired even after hours of talking. You and him tightly hugging on his bed, lights off and just everything that goes through your head... doesn't everything seem perfect?

✶ you know very well that every time he has a match he makes comments that, let's say, put him in a "bad light", or in any case make him seem less interested in you. before being with you he didn't mind saying things like that on the field, and more or less the same thing has remained since you got together as a couple... BUT THERE IS A BUT! every time, once the game is over and above all won, he makes sure to run to you before even celebrating with his teammates: whether you are in the VIP area or not, he will come to you to kiss you with all the passion he has. let's say he uses his method to reconfirm to the people that he is happily taken

what would he post on socials ↓

✶ GET MARRIED AND HAVE MANY CHILDREN AS POSSIBLE? YEAAAAH. no okay maybe not like that, but on the issue of children he doesn't lie... certainly with the career as a striker he has, he has no problems with money, and therefore with maintaining kids. let's say that for marriage it's different... he doesn't find any sense in it, in reality, he only sees it as something superficial: if he loves you and you know it, why have such a ceremony?. so let's say it's 50/50: he would do it if you asked him but at the same time he wouldn't mind not being married

✶ jealosy level: 1/10 (he trusts you too much to even think about it)

✶ flirtiness level: 10/10

✶ pet names: "doll" / "darling" / "love"

—————————————

— rin itoshi

✶ Rin hides under his serious and calculating gaze a boy who simply needs to vent after everything that happened with his older brother. Before being together as a couple he would never have expected to be able to cry in front of someone, but with you it was all quite natural: it took months and a lot of patience to show him that you really cared about him and that you wanted him to feel comfortable with you, but in the end he let himself go and was finally able to tell someone what not even he himself could explain. he'll never admit it but he believes that was the moment he realized how important you really were to him, and how much he simply wanted someone who could understand him

✶ He has a sort of fetish for seeing you in his clothes: it doesn't matter if the clothes are tight, big or the right size, just seeing you in that black sweatshirt of his or in his PxG uniform is enough to send him into crisis. he can't even explain to you why he likes it so much, but the fact that you're wearing something that smells like him is definitely a valid reason. you once surprised him by showing up at one of his matches wearing a jacket with "rin" written on the back, and we can say that he appreciated it to the point of having to prove it to you in some way: that time the match ended 9-0, goal all marked by him

✶ He may be one of the best if not the best, but after finishing the practice he simply needs to rest with you next to him, even more so if the coach was more unpleasant than usual or he simply did a lot of things wrong due to distraction (which is impossible considering it's Rin). Whether on the couch after cleaning himself or in the shower, while you rub shampoo into his hair it doesn't matter, he just needs to feel your presence

what would he post on socials ↓

✶ as a child he often saw other children playing at being married, but he was never actually interested, also because on the one hand it disgusted him to think of having to be tied to a person forever and kiss them on the mouth. as he's grown up he's changed his opinion, he's definitely the marriageable type and he'd actually like to get married as soon as possible: what's the point in leaving you legally free if you've stolen his heart?. let's say that he has a fairly positive opinion about children, he just knows that they arrive after a certain amount of time after marriage: he would like to have two girls... growing up as one of two brothers, both boys, he knows how boys are more problematic than girls

✶ jealosy level: 6/10

✶ flirtiness level: 3/10

✶ pet names: "y/n" / "love"

[deathofacupid]

⤷ in which you're the only one soft!sukuna treats this way .ᐟ

soft!sukuna who took forever to say "i love you" for the first time, and thank his ego for that.

when you'd said it for the first time, soft!sukuna couldn't do anything but let his face heat up, avoiding eye contact as if his life depended on it. of course, you knew his nature. you told him he didn't have to say it back, even though (on the inside, at least) you were hoping so much that he would. you just wanted him to know.

and god forbid, once you'd said it that first time, you couldn't stop.

soft!sukuna didn't end up saying it that day, but it didn't really matter. he showed you his love in different ways.

soft!sukuna, who shows you his said love in his own ways, remembers everything about you. the things you said once, then forgot. from your dreams in life to what you had for lunch last tuesday - if it has to do with you, the chances are, he'll remember it.

soft!sukuna who gets up earlier than you do (he doesn't enjoy sleeping in much), and on his morning walk, picks you a single flower from the estate's garden and leaves it on his bare pillow, right next to yours. soft!sukuna doesn't like it when you make such a big deal about it. you see it as you wake up, while he's showering. it's just a flower, in his view, but it makes you happy, so he'll do it for the rest of his life.

soft!sukuna who doesn't really understand human dating customs much, but he'll go along with it - well, most of the time. for example, when you first met him, you wanted to take it slow, so you went on some "test" dates. soft!sukuna was going to make you his anyways, so he thought to entertain it.

the idea of going on "dates" – pre-mating trials to assess compatibility, seemed odd to him. what he wanted, he got. there was no "testing" of anything.

you and soft!sukuna who had some communication issues at the start. he didn't get indirect communication - subtle cues, body language, or "reading between the lines" to express interest or disinterest. soft!sukuna never had a problem with saying what was on his mind, but for you, some things you didn't think really had to be said.

soft!sukuna who's the single most possessive and jealous man you've ever known. somebody looked at you the wrong way? they're a waste of space. he'll dispose of them later. or, hey, did their tone sound a little off? doesn't matter, they should've known better. maybe next time. oh, wait - there won't be a next time.

in fact, this one time, when a guy hit on you at the bar, you had to drag him out, begging and pleading him to not resort to murder.

soft!sukuna who can't bring himself to say no to you, because that pretty little pout tugs on his heart-strings. he thinks it's pathetic, how you've hexed him.

instead, all he can manage is huffy, begrudged "fine."

soft!sukuna who loves cuddles so much. he loves when you rub his back or stomach, not that he'd ever verbally say so. he may be soft for you, but there's still pride.

instead, whenever you're on the bed, he'll look at you a certain way, and you'll know what to do. he loves your touch, so soft and gentle. soft!sukuna has never had anything like it before. he doesn't know how he's lived all this time without it.

soft!sukuna who can be very blunt at times, unintentionally hurting your feelings. he doesn't mean it, he's just not used to being careful with his words. he never says sorry, but the second you get that pained expression in your eyes, mouth parted slightly, soft!sukuna is basically on his knees apologizing. it's nothing short of humiliating, to him, but he'd rather be humiliated than apart from you.

soft!sukuna who said those three words to you, for the first time, during an argument. you'd wanted him to start killing less, you couldn't bear all the lost lives of the innocent. he didn't like that very much. either way, it had escalated quickly.

but the second soft!sukuna saw those tears sliding down your cheeks, he had pulled you flush against his chest, murmuring soft apologies.

"okay, okay. don't cry. i'll do what you want. i love you."

how they slipped out so naturally, as if he weren't planning on saying it in the first place, it surprised the both of you. but when you looked at him, eyes wide with both love and shock, he decided it was the right thing.

soft!sukuna didn't regret it at all.

because both for and to you, soft!sukuna was the sweetest, most gentle man you'd ever known.

all banner credits to @anitalenia and @dollywons .ᐟ

[la-patrona-magdalena]

Synopsis:

You always wanted your family to look at you, even just once. At least with a bit of the affection they gave to the portraits of your mother. Too bad that when they finally did, you were looking at the pages of a comic that showed the cruel future.

Inspired by the manhwa: no place for the Fake Princess

Warnings: English is not my first language, so I used a translator. Yandere content, neglect, abandonment, angst (?), allusions to death, original character (not the reader), allusions to torture. I try to keep the gender neutral,but in part there are mostly feminine pronouns. If any warnings are missing here, please let me know.

Disclaimer: This fanfic is for personal reading only. The use of this text for AI model training, data mining, commercial purposes, or any automated reproduction is strictly prohibited without the explicit consent of the author. Translation or reposting to other platforms is also strictly prohibited without the author's permission

Thank you.

You can read the fanfic in its original language (Spanish) on my AO3

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Masterlist

Chapter two - See them Truly

This was going to be hard. In moments like this, you wished you had inherited some of your siblings' intelligence— well, Bruce's kids', really. It would also be hard to stop thinking about them as family.

You realized that while trying to fall asleep. You don't know anything about the outside world, or how to manage money nothing. You're only 12! You just wanted to worry about getting a good grade so Alfred would give you ice cream, not about getting tortured by some clown-painted lunatic. The upside is, that won't happen for a few years, so you have plenty of time to hide from the Joker's eye and think about what you're going to do with your life once Serelith shows up… unless you end up bringing her into this yourself just to get out of this strange family as soon as possible. The downside is that you want to figure something out now, and it's really hard to think when Tim's trying to brush your hair in front of the mirror in his room, where he dragged you earlier this morning.

—If you’re doing this so I won’t say anything about— He cuts you off before you can finish. —I'm doing this because I want to. I trust you enough to know you won't tell anyone… That includes Bruce and the others, okay?—he asks as he keeps trying to make your hair look somewhat decent.

After reading the comics, you learned a lot about everyone else's skills. Sure, you already knew Tim was smart—you'd asked him for help with your homework more than once just as an excuse to spend quality time together. But you didn't know he was on Batman's level, or that he figured everything out when he was nine. Yeah, you're way out of his league. If you were him, you wouldn't bother teaching some kid basic algebra either, not when you've got complex cases to deal with. …Although, he’d probably teach Serelith if she asked him…

The point is, once you woke up with a clear head and your emotions under control, you'd decided not to tell anyone about the comics. Which means you'll have to be really careful around someone like Tim.

—I won't tell Bruce or anyone else. I promise.— You give him a half-smile, one he definitely notices… When did you stop calling Bruce “dad”? Wasn't it just you and Damian who used to call him that?

Maybe Damian had something to do with your anxiety attack—now that Tim thinks about it, Damian’s so-called “company” probably just means fights and arguments. It was really stupid of him to think Damian treated you differently just because of some fight from years ago. Besides, you don’t know anything about Damian’s past! To you, he probably just seemed like a troubled kid. Tim should’ve paid more attention to you. He shouldn’t have kept his distance just because of his own issues with Damian. He shouldn’t have looked away just because everyone else did.

He won’t take his eyes off you, not until he’s sure you’re not close to another breakdown like last night’s. Not until he knows nothing’s going to hurt you again.

—Ow!— You wince as he tugs too hard on your hair with the brush. He mutters a string of repeated apologies, mixed with complaints about how hard it is to deal with your hair, though really, it’s just lack of experience.

After some struggle and a few tips from you on how to do it right, he managed to do a decent job brushing your hair and even put in a slightly crooked flower clip.

—Thanks,—you mutter, somewhat indifferent. Tim wasn’t exactly close to you not that anyone in this family really was, unless you counted Damian’s short conversations with his arrogant attitude. So Tim’s strange behavior today is a surprise. A part of you wanted to hug him and tell him about your day, ask about his likes, and knit him something out of wool with a design he might like, now that his eyes were on you. But the other part of you, the bigger part, wanted to throw in his face how, in the comics, he was so desperate to find Serelith, sleepless nights without rest, with such a tired and loving look aimed only at her, never noticing your absence. Why was he looking at you now? Was it because of what happened last night? He was surely making sure you wouldn’t cause any trouble. Once he was certain you wouldn’t make another “drama,” he’d go away. You shouldn’t get your hopes up about him; you can’t look at him with love because he won’t look at you that way. That belongs to his real sister, not you. You have to try to act normal about his sudden concern; you’ll only make things worse if you tell him what you saw.

Tim swallowed hard at your tone, yet he kept his eyes fixed on his task. He would make sure to learn properly later.

—I’ll walk you out,—he gave you a half smile, though it looked more like a grimace trying to escape the awkwardness. You just nodded, letting him accompany you to your bedroom door. —I homeschool,—you replied, returning the same awkward smile, which in your case looked more like a dry smile— —I just have to go to the study room. —Ah…— His uncomfortable smile faltered a bit. Why don’t you go to school? Did you even go once? Now that he looked at you properly, he should have known—you’re not wearing any uniform. —I’ll walk you there then.

You nodded, and Tim led the way to your door, then stood there still. Which was your study room inside the mansion? Maybe you studied in the library? Apparently, you noticed his confusion and walked past him, now leading the way yourself. In a few minutes, you showed him how to get to your study room. It was near the library, and he didn’t waste time analyzing the place as much as he could with a quick glance. It was a slightly small room compared to the usual rooms in the mansion, with several of your study things near a small worn-out stool, scratched in bright colors with different little animals. Inside was an older man, unknown to him, accompanied by Alfred, who gave a somewhat surprised look upon noticing him.

—Master Drake?—Alfred asked, while the man, who Tim assumed was your teacher of some unknown subject, looked at him with curiosity. —Oh… hello, Alfred. I didn’t mean to interrupt.— He looked at the stranger in front of him suspiciously while nodding in greeting. Could this man be the reason for your near breakdown? —Good afternoon. I didn’t mean to impose.

you entered the room, walking right past him, , and sat on your little stool in silence. Had you always been this quiet? Or were you only acting this way because the teacher was present? Did he intimidate you?

—Can you leave so I can focus?—you asked. You didn’t mean to sound harsh, but your tone wasn’t exactly gentle either. You just wanted space and to study without his strange behavior weighing on you. If he stayed, you felt like at any moment you might break down in front of him—run to hug him without caring about Alfred or your teacher being there. You didn’t want that. You couldn’t do that. You didn’t have the right.

Tim blinked once. The request caught him a little off guard. First you kicked him out of your room, and now your class? You? Didn't you know that he could teach you the same class you were taking without any problem? He lowered his gaze a bit, didn’t say anything right away, wondering if maybe he was overthinking it all. —Of course,—he finally replied, with that same smile that, after seeing it so much, gave you a strange chill. —I don't want to bother. He took a step back. Then another. Carefully, trying not to make unnecessary noise, like he was afraid of being a distraction even as he left. —Good luck with your studying,—he murmured before turning fully and disappearing down the hallway, his footsteps nearly silent.

He was already thinking about quickly finishing the case at hand to start investigating you, and all your teachers. Maybe he could even convince Bruce to let him take you to his apartment and homeschool you himself. That way he could be absolutely sure no teacher was hurting you. He didn’t trust any of them. Even if he investigated every teacher in Gotham, you’d still be safer if he was the one doing the teaching.

Alfred followed him with his eyes for a moment, then turned his gaze back to you, one brow slightly raised. Your behavior lately had been… unusual. You hadn’t come down for dinner last night or for breakfast this morning. He’d also noticed how young Master Drake had rushed through his breakfast and ran straight back upstairs. At first he thought it was because of the case he was working on—until he saw you with him.

Normally, he would’ve been glad to see the two of you spending time together. That finally, after all these years, someone in the family was looking at you the way you’d always wanted… But your behavior, the way you spoke to him, and that empty, pained look you gave him…

Alfred could only politely bid farewell to your teacher and to you, leaving you to study alone while he headed out to take young Master Damian to school. Who, by the way, was in a foul mood today—more than usual. Ever since he noticed your absence at dinner last night, and all the way until he got into the car this morning.

Grumbling in the back seat, the green-eyed boy sat with his arms crossed, not even bothering to hide his annoyance from Alfred, who glanced at him now and then through the rearview mirror.

Where the hell were you?

Damian hadn’t seen you since you returned from your shopping trip with Pennyworth, jumping around excitedly after buying some ridiculous comics. He had hoped, really hoped, to at least see you at breakfast, hear you talk about what you’d read while he pretended to be annoyed. But you weren’t there. If Pennyworth hadn’t told him you were fine, he would’ve gone to look for you himself. And if it weren’t for his father, he would’ve stayed home to study with you.

Not that he needed to. Obviously. He already knew everything they taught. But at least he would’ve listened to you, would’ve looked at you when you asked about something you didn’t understand, and then he could’ve mocked you and explained it himself afterward.

But Richard says “you need to make friends,” and his father agrees. He can’t argue against both of them, so if he has to socialize, why aren’t you coming along too? You, who don’t even have a double life as a vigilante, should be the one socializing more, getting friends in your civilian life, not isolating yourself in a room.

Though… part of him was glad you didn’t have anyone else. And he suspects that’s exactly what his father wanted when he decided you’d be homeschooled.

With a grunt, Damian got out of the car when Pennyworth parked in front of Gotham Academy.

—She’s acting like an idiot,—he muttered with a rough, irritated tone.—It’s not normal.— He glared at the butler for a few seconds, his annoyance clearly showing—though beneath it, so did his concern.

Alfred watched him for a moment before answering, his face composed as always, though carrying that same faint concern.

—I’ll take care of her. Master Damian should focus on school for today.

Damian turned his gaze away, jaw tense as he realized Pennyworth was trying to calm him down about his half—no, his sister.

—I’m not a child. I don’t need to be calmed.

—Yet you throw tantrums like one,—Alfred replied with his usual sarcasm. Damian only scoffed in response and started walking away, pausing only briefly to mutter something under his breath.

—She shouldn’t lock herself up like that. It’s pathetic.

When Damian first arrived at the mansion and met you, he thought you were pathetic.

Everyone else was a vigilante, everyone went out to fight at night—even Gordon found a way to stay useful after losing the ability to walk.

You weren't. You were just someone he shared half blood with. Nothing more, nothing less. He didn't pay attention to you for a while, just insulting you and telling you what a nuisance you were whenever you came near. It only took two interactions for you to realize you didn't want to be around him. It bothered him a little for a while, more than the others' attitude toward him.

He didn’t know why you, specifically, annoyed him—until eventually, he realized you were just like him in this family.

Clearly, compared to him, your combat training was nonexistent, your intelligence was average, and your hands were clean. He was the son of a devil, and you were just the daughter of a pretty model. He was a child whose father never knew existed, and you were a child who was always planned.

And yet somehow, the family treated you both the same. Except for Pennyworth, he seemed more familiar with you.

You were two kids who didn’t fit. Two kids the family didn’t quite know what to do with.

You both reacted differently to being treated that way. He fought back when necessary, every time someone dared to mess with him. You, on the other hand, smiled… and then ran off to cry. It was pathetic—but he hated it. He hated how you cried from the way others treated you. He understood, to a degree, that he came from a very different world than this one. But you? You were born here. You were supposed to be more loved, because you were cleaner, because you were wished for.

But somehow, the opposite happened. Eventually, he adapted. And somehow, they adapted to him. he made a place for himself. And somehow, they ended up loving him.

And though he’d never admit it, and he’d rather cut out his tongue than say it out loud, he loves them too.

And he knows, somehow, he knows, this family loves you. And he hates how, even so, you still don’t have a place here. They never adapted to you, not even when you keep trying to adapt to them.

Eventually, he chose of his own willto be around you. He found a way to make you interact with him again. It was difficult and strange at first, but he made it work

You weren’t close. You never have been. And he won’t allow it… not yet. Not when his mother put a price on his head and was capable of killing him. Not when that man is capable of putting Gordon in a wheelchair, capable of killing and torturing Todd, and capable of nearly doing the same to Thomas.

He wasn’t going to risk you. He’s already risking too much with the Joker knowing everyone’s identities. He’s already risking too much just by sharing a last name with you. Getting closer would only put you in more danger.

You have to stay in your place—clean, untouched.

Reluctantly, and only after Richard explained things to him, he came to understand that somehow, the situation you were in was the safest way to keep you alive.

So for now, he only comes close enough so you don’t cry because you feel lonely. He’ll send Titus to play with you, let you pet Alfred the cat, and listen to you rant about your latest wool creation or how tough a particular class was. He’ll come near and keep his eyes on you during breakfast, lunch, and dinner—even if his father doesn’t come down to eat with you. He’ll be there, talking with his usual attitude and way of being. He doesn’t act differently around you; he treats you the same as the others. And that probably doesn’t bother you… does it?

He’ll keep up that same routine until one day, he’s completely sure you’ll be safe. That you won't suffer for the life this family you were born into chose. When that day comes, he’ll allow himself to get close to you the way he’s always wanted.

If his grandfather saw him now, he’d tell him how pathetic he is for getting attached to you. And to some extent, he is. It’s pathetic how he gets angry when you don’t attend classes with him, even though he knows it’s a thousand times safer for you, according to his father.

It’s pathetic how he sneaks into your room at night just to steal a wool keychain you made and didn’t have the courage to give him. It’s pathetic how he keeps it in his pocket and carries it everywhere, wishing you’d make more wool creations for him, like you did with the oven mitts or Pennyworth’s scarf.

It’s pathetic how much he hates Drake after finding out he stayed the night in your own bed. Doesn’t he see that puts you in danger? And why did you even let him into your room in the first place?

And it's even more pathetic that he keeps thinking about all this. I'm sure by the end of the day you'll get over that attitude of yours, and at dinner you'll finally talk about the comics you brought yesterday.

He just hopes you don't look at him and think he's pathetic, how pathetic he is just because of his beloved sister.

Okay, two weeks as I promised… plus a two-day delay, dear god. The worst part is that this chapter was already written since the synopsis...

Ahem, even though I still plan to keep the two-week schedule for each chapter (now every Saturday), for now it'll be every three weeks, mainly because I’m planning the direction of the story better and figuring out how I want to develop it. I also prefer publishing chapters with a good chunk already done, not just writing as I go. And unfortunately, under my hyper-fixation on the Bat-Family, which makes it very difficult for me…In fact, I wasn't even sure I'd put Damian's thoughts on Reader so quickly, but I think they'll be important for the rest of the story. So yeah, thanks for your understanding.

On another note, I’m really grateful for all the support! I wasn’t expecting so much love and such sweet messages. I love you all, internet strangers. I tried to tag things as best I could, but one or two might have ended up mislabeled. Well… love you lots!

Taglist

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[eggfriedricedwasian]

Duke comes home one day from school looking down in the dumps and a bunch of paper work.

"Hey Duke, what's all that paper work for?" Dick asks from the couch as Duke sets the foot tall pile of papers on the coffee table.

"Oh you know, just, bullies making me do their work." The whole room freezes.

Bullies?

"Duke, you're being bullied?" Duke seems to realize his mistake of words. Instead of the excuse he made up to tell them about how he missed a lot of work because of Signal work, he said the truth which was the fact that he had bullies.

"Erm-"

"Duke, why didn't you tell us?" Dick nearly whines out, hurt his foster-brother didn't tell him about having bullies.

"No- guys, it's okay. Seriously. You don't have to do anything about it. Seriously." He eyes Bruce from where the man was about to type in *probably* the school's number to complain.

"Why not? We can deal with those punks for you. Are they being racist or some'n?" Jason crosses his arms, standing in front of Duke with a raised brow.

"A little. But seriously, it's nothing I can't handle."

Bruce rubs his temple.

"Are you sure? Are you sure you can handle this?"

"Yes."

"Thomas, just know, we can step in whenever." Duke turns a smile towards Damian, and places his hand on Cass's when she hugs him from behind.

"Hey- it's the weekend. Let me handle those papers since I've got nothing to do and I'm ban from case work." Tim says, holding his hand out.

"Uh- okay?" Duke hands him the stack, thinking nothing of it, because it's Tim.

Tim takes a look through the papers, scrunching his face a bit before shrugging, a smirk appearing on his face.

"Uh- should I be worried?" Tim looks at him and waves him off. "Nah, don't worry 'bout it. I got this handled."

Uh. Okay?

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

The following Monday, Duke shows up and puts his stuff in his locker.

Or at least he was until it was slammed shut.

"Hey Thomas. Got our work?" Turning around, Duke faced his three bullies; seniors Clint Rodriguez (the "big dog" as he called himself) and his lackies, Arion Centry and Pete Swinez.

"N-No.."

"No? Where is it, bitch? I told you to have it done by Monday." Rodriguez held him up to the locker. "Oh you mean these papers?"

Turning around, there stood Timothy Drake-Wayne; two three time nepo-baby and the biggest reputation in the school. The real life Regina George and Heather Chandler. He was with his two best friends, also big popular kids and his two Gretchen Wieners, Karen Smith, and Heathers.

"Drake." The mere face of him made the trio seethe. "Hah! You should see your face right now. Anyways, I did your college essays for you, hope you enjoy them. Would be a shame if you had to repurchase the papers for them."

Tim tosses them in the air, and everyone watches as they all fall to the ground.

"What the hell did you do."

"Oh, ya know, the basics of what you should put. Also, this your girl?" A girl, a cheerleader, goes and slides herself under Tim's arm.

"Babe!?"

"Sorry, Clint, but I have a reputation, people can't know we dated. Also, Tim's better looking and a better kisser." Morgan Letto, another popular nepo-baby in Gotham High, turns and kisses Tim right in the hallway, before stalking off.

Tim's trio laughs at their faces.

"Hey! You should probably pick these up, ya know, since they have your names on them. Wouldn't want to get sent to the principles for littering the school. Bad reputation means you can't go to Princeton." Bernard says.

"Or Oxford, or Harvard. See ya losers!" Ives laughs along with Bernard and Tim as they walk through the halls.

As if a bomb dropped, the three seniors scramble to pick up hundreds of papers worth of applications.

" "I'm racist towards black people because they're below white people like me" " Someone reads off of one paper down the hall.

" "I use grades that aren't mine that I bully people into doing for me." " Another person reads nearby.

"Give me those!"

Duke is left standing there, struck by the scene that just unfolded before his eyes.

He didn't know what to say, do, or act.

Should he laugh? Play it off? Call Bruce? Or Tim? Or anyone? Get picked up?

It's fine. It's just one day. Right?

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

Lunch time rolls around.

Duke is sitting at his table with his friends eating. They were prime targets for Clint and his group.

As if on cue, the three stride up.

"Hey Thomas, got Tim Drake to do your work for you, huh? Well guess what?"

He was spun around and picked up by the collar, his two friends being held back by Arion and Pete.

"You ain't getting away with it here." Clint grits out. Of course he chose the cafeteria, the pretty much only place teachers don't monitor 24/7 and is void of any supervision, even with every grade in there for lunch.

Clint set Duke down and lined his fist up ready to punch him. Duke flinched as the fist came swinging.

"Hey loser!"

Cheers and shocked 'Oooh!'s were heard from around. He squinted one eye open and saw food fall from Clint's red face and a tray in Tim's right hand.

"Woops! Sorry! Guess my hand slipped!" That got a laugh from the crowd. Tim set the tray down and pat Duke's should before stalking towards Clint.

Duke saw behind them at the far wall where everyone could see Ives and Bernard setting three trays of food down (The senior trio's trays).

"You'll pay for that, Drake!" Clint took a swing, which Tim dodged easily and side sweeped him onto his knees.

Ives and Bernard did the same to Arion and Pete.

The three took the seniors by the hair and dragged them to the trays the two laid out previously.

Cameras went up and Duke watched in muted awe and terror at what Tim was doing. Was Tim really like this when he still went to high school? He was a junior now and he dropped out sophomore year? Was he like this as a freshman?

The three pushed the seniors faces into the trays.

"Since you're the big dog maybe you should eat like a real dog then, bitch. Here's some kibble. Dogs enjoy this one!" Tim poured dog kibble onto Clint's tray, seeing as his face turns redder and shows more humiliation than he's ever seen on anyone.

"Eat it, bitch! Like the dog you are! Or start barking and begging for forgiveness!" Tim says it through his teeth in such a grueling tone it sends shivers down Duke's spine.

"Hey Arion! If you actually did your work, you'd know that your name is a horse in Greek Myth. So maybe you should neigh like one too! Neigh, neigh. Get to eating horsey! You should start prancing for the rodeo. Giddey'yup!" Ives mocks him pushing his head into the tray over and over.

"Swinez? More like Swine-ez! Oink-oink! You stink like a pig. And you're eating like one too! Ewwww! Disgusting. Hahahahhaha!" Bernard's name change made the whole cafeteria roar in laughter.

What made the laughter stronger was when the three brought out collars with leashes and attached them to it.

"Come boys! Start walking like the animals you are!" Tim called, pulling on Clint's leash, dragging him mostly until Clint got up and started crawling in front of him.

Everytime they tried to get up, the three juniors were behind them to push them down to the ground again.

Almost everyone was recording.

"Look everyone! Look at our new pets!" Ives called out.

"If you know any better, you three better keep your collars on. You should better than to make your owners mad!" Bernard barked out a laugh.

"I think, you guys should start speaking in woofs, neighs, and oinks from now on. Especially, when we make you ask forgiveness to those you bullied." Tim said, grabbing the collar and forcing Clint to look at Duke.

The bell rang, lucky for those three.

"Woops! Looks like the fun's over! You better clean up for mess! Wouldn't want to make the janitors work more." Tim walked off. "Or look like complete idiots with all that gunk on your face." Bernard said as he and Ives followed Tim.

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

Later, when Duke got home, he was silent. Bruce was silent too, despite him being the one Duke expected to ask about the bullies since he slipped up and told them.

"Hey Duke, how was school? Did they mess with you again?" Dick asked.

He looked at him, then at the rest of his siblings, noting Tim wasn't there, swallowed and shook his head.

"N-Not really."

"Not really?" Jason looked confused, as did the rest of them.

Before Duke could explain more, Tim came in laughing, tossing his bag on a couch before hopping on Bruce's arm rest.

"Bruce! You won't believe what I did today." Bruce looked at him and smirked. Smirked.

Tim relayed the entire story of what he, Bernard, and Ives did to Clint, Arion, and Pete. Bruce looked proud and the rest looked shocked.

"My reputation still stands even after I've been gone a year!" Tim seemed very proud of that.

"Atta boy!" Bruce ruffled his hair. "Yes, here's the tray of cookies you were promised all to yourself, master Tim." Alfred handed him a whole plate of cookies. "Thank you!"

"What!?"

"Hold on! He gets a whole plate of cookies for that? Why isn't he in trouble!? When did you enroll back?" Jason was beyond furious.

"Tim had a reputation in school for being like that towards bullies. Which is why no one bullied anyone with him around. Guess they all came back when he was gone. Duke didn't want us doing anything, and he didn't expect Tim to do anything because you all think he's a goody two shoes, so I sent my calvary in." Bruce explained.

Tim laughed at their faces.

"Oh please! I'm just getting started with them! Just wait till the end of the week. Then! I'll be done with them and they won't ever come back to the school."

[rainbowsmagicandshit]

Arthur repeals the magic ban! Yay! Druids, Catha, and all others come to Camelot to live peacefully under the reign of the Once And Future King! Yay! The Golden Age is starting! Yay! Merlin still hasn’t told Arthur about magic! …He’s just waiting for the right time. Things have just happened so fast and he just doesn’t know how to bring it all up.

Well, as Arthur and the rest of Camelot get more comfortable with magic, Arthur makes a decision. He’s tried teaching Merlin every type of weapon out there, and he’s hopeless with every one of them. But, Merlin still insists on coming with him on dangerous quests. So, Arthur decides to have Merlin try his hand at magic so he has some sort of self defense.

Merlin: ...You want me to what?

Arthur: I know! I know, Merlin! Magic can be dangerous! But I found a wonderful teacher for you. Say hello, Wallace.

Wallace: Hello

Arthur: He's perfectly trustworthy! And, it'll all be perfectly safe!

Merlin: Arthur, there's something you need to know. About me and magic--

Arthur: I know what you're going to say, Merlin, and--

Merlin: I really don't think you know--

Arthur: --please, for me, just try this. I know you don't really like magic. But please, Merlin. And, you know, even if you're crap at it--which you likely are like everything else--you could probably at least get your eyes to do the gold thing. That'll probably scare off some people from hurting you. Like a rattle snake.

Merlin: Arthur, really, you need to listen to me--

Arthur: I'll even do it with you!

Merlin: Arthur, really...Wait what?

Arthur: I'll do it with you! To show you how not dangerous it is! You have no reason to be scared of learning it, Merlin. It'll be easy.

Merlin: ...You're going to try to learn magic?

Arthur: Yes. How hard could it be. You're going to learn it.

Merlin, crossing his arms: Okay, then. I'd like to see this. Let's see you do magic, Once And Future Prat, Mr. Magic King

Arthur, smug at getting Merlin to agree: Good. Our first lesson starts now.

They both look to Wallace. Arthur happy, Merlin raising a judgmental eyebrow. Wallace starts with the history of magic and the theories behind using it. They don't get to the actually magic using part of the lesson day. Wallace does give them both some texts to study.

Their next lesson does get to the magic part.

Wallace: You want to really feel into the magic of the world around you. Feel the earth. Feel the connection you have to that earth. Feel the power that runs through it.

Merlin's enjoying it, letting the magic wash over him, and also peeking at Arthur who seems to be struggling with it. When asked, Merlin says he doesn't feel anything either. He wants to keep watching Arthur struggle.

Their next lesson, Wallace tries to teach them some basic spells. Lighting a candle. Moving a small object. Merlin laughs at all of Arthur's attempts.

Arthur: Well let's see you do better, Merlin!

Merlin just keeps laughing.

Their lessons keep getting interrupted by this or that. Merlin also has a very busy job. One would think that he'd have less work now that magic was legalized, but no. Now he just has more magic beasts roaming the lands, and people freaking out and attacking those magic beasts, leading to fights and stuff. He's always having to slip away to resolve the matter. He has gotten very good at calming dangerous magic beasts and relocating them. But, relocating takes longer than just killing, so he's still just as busy and gone just as much as he was when dealing with vengeful sorcerers.

Every single start of magic lesson:

Wallace: Did you do the homework I assigned?

Arthur, proud: Yes, I did. I did all the reading, but I did have some trouble with the spellwork.

Merlin, who was up all night settling a griffin family into a new nest on a tall mountain: Uh. No. Didn't have time.

Arthur: Merlin, this is your lesson!

Eventually, Merlin has his fill of watching Arthur struggling with magic, and decides that this time is better spent doing other things. So, during one of the lesson, when Wallace tells them to make the flower bloom, without looking up from the report he's going over, he waves his hand and his pot explodes with the force of plants that grow out of it instantly.

Wallace: ...

Arthur: ...

[elysianstarfall]

blue lock boys w/ a super expressive reader (hcs)

summary: your emotions are always written all over your face, and your actions are also a dead giveaway. what does your boyfriend think?

characters: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, itoshi rin

a/n: god i hope this makes sense

i. yoichi

LOVES IT. SO MUCH.

he's always using so much brainpower trying to figure out what his teammates/opponents are thinking

so when he can tell how you're feeling with one look at your face, he's genuinely so happy

his brain is fried, he deserves a break

doesn't mean he doesn't care about you though!!

still has to figure some stuff out, but most of the time he notices your mood and adjusts to match it

you're really excited about something? he tries his best to get into it too

you're lowkey depressed? he softens his voice and listens to you intently

gets you whatever you need

the second he sees you're uncomfortable or something he tries his best to get you out of the situation even at his own expense

will embarrass himself to make you feel better

you always tell him he's the best bf ever but you seriously make it so easy for him to be

b. meguru

"you're just like me fr..."

yeah he's basically the same

you guys literally just sync up by accident

like if one of you is happy, the other one's mood just instantly gets better too??

bluetooth ahh relationship

also, miscommunication? what's that?

you know each other's feelings so well that misunderstandings are pretty much nonexistent

if something's wrong, it's so obvious

like if you're moping he'll make you talk things out with him or tell him what's wrong

same if he's feeling sad

thinks it's adorable when you're excited and your eyes just straight up light up

he just gets a stupid smile on his face which makes you even happier

cue the never-ending cycle of emotions

you guys are so soulmates

n. seishiro

he's so, so grateful

he doesn't have to put in any work deciphering your emotions? sign him up

consider yourself not a hassle!

it's actually perfect for a lazy guy like him

finds your facial expressions really cute

even when you're just voice calling, he can hear everything you're feeling

like when you laugh or when he can hear your smile when you're talking, he can relax

happy gf = he's doing something right

oh but when you're mad...

save him, he has no clue how to fix it

actually scared to talk to you because you look like you're gonna beat him up

and when you don't even look mad, when you act nonchalant and distant and he can't tell how you're feeling?

yeah, he's cooked and he knows it

will give you an apology with tears

he'd rather avoid that so he tries to keep you happy

m. reo

ok idk why they're all grateful but yeah. he is too.

he's been dealing with nagi's unemotional ass for forever, so he's pleased that someone actually shows their emotions and lets him know how they're feeling

finds it really helpful when he gets you stuff since he knows whether or not you actually liked it

like if your reaction is clearly fake as hell he knows not to get you something like that again

he doesn't take it personally ofc, just uses it to refine his gift-giving abilities

really likes it when you're genuinely happy because of something he gave you

you cannot stop him from blowing insane amounts of money on you

in his eyes you deserve it

just let it happen bro

also he's kind of a romantic and he loves seeing your reactions when he does something cliché or stupid

tells you horrible pick up lines out of nowhere and thinks it's so funny when you actually get flustered

i. rin

he couldn't care less.

JK he's secretly very happy

there's only room for one emotionally unavailable partner in the relationship (him)

so at least one of you can tell how the other's feeling!

thinks it's nice that he can tell when you're mad at him

because let's be real he's lowkey insecure

abandonment issues are not for the weak

so when you reassure him and your expressions and actions are backing it up?

he just fell for you even harder

but when you are mad? ouch

he's a "my gf is mad at me i hope i die" kinda bf but he keeps it very lowkey

will just sulk until he gets so sick of you ignoring him or being mean to him that he awkwardly breaks down and gives you a very sincere apology

hopes you never change because he loves you the way you are

[snail-day]

Rotations

Sum: You're a rotating nurse but you somehow became the emotional support toy for two department heads.

Yan! Shoko x Reader x Yan! Utahime

TW: Yandere Behaviors, Hospital AU, Noncon/Dubcon, Medical play, Power Imbalance, Blackmail, Overstimulation, Toxic Relationship, femdom, Crying during sex, Squirting, Dead Dove Do Not Eat. MDNI.

WC: 3.5K

a/n: Bruh, what is up with me and baby trapping lately? Anyways, Utahime has a breeding kink <3

Now, you’d think being a nurse has its cons, and yes, there’s the obvious ones. Like how it’s basically working at an airport where everyone is screaming because they missed their flight and somehow it’s your fault the weather is dogshit. Add in a little sprinkle of constant piss and vomit, and ta-da! You've got Healthcare! 

You could deal with that.

What you can’t deal with is being the rotating nurse caught between a couple that should’ve signed divorce papers five years ago. Maybe even a restraining order. 

To be fair, this isn’t your first rodeo. You already peaced out of one department after some white-haired freak and his husband couldn’t take a damn hint that your pussy only gets wet... for, well, pussy. Bless their hearts, though,  at least they didn’t drop the tired “you just haven’t met the right guy yet” line. No, they were polite. Courteous, even. Just a hum and “You know where to find us,” before the dark-haired husband sauntered back to running the psych ward. 

Which is how you ended up bouncing between two fresh levels of hell: Pediatrics, Utahime’s territory,  and ER, Shoko’s battleground.

You don’t have a favorite. Because both are nightmares in their own way.

Pediatrics? Sure, you’ll take the screeching parents, because at least they’re scared for their kid. That you can handle. What you can’t handle is the department head who stares at you like she’s already decided where the nursery’s going. Utahime doesn’t ask. She grabs. Pulls you into whatever broom closet nearest, slams the door, and chucks her pager somewhere into the abyss of trash bags and paper towels. Her lips are soft as they clash against yours, already tugging at the cartoon kittens on your scrubs as she breathes, “Aren’t the babies so cute? God, you’d look so good pregnant.”

It’s easier to pretend with her. To arch into her warm palm, to whimper when her fingers swirl against your clit, to whisper a mangled “I love you too,” because it’s the only thing that gets her to slow down, to kiss you like you’re real.

You're always relieved when her pager goes off. Thanking the universe or whatever higher power has granted you mercy. Watching her pretty pout as she pulls away, whispering she'll "make it up to you later." Honestly, you’d rather she didn’t. Because you’re left there alone, trying not to cry in a supply closet while people outside are praying their babies make it through the night.

It’d be rather pathetic to cry over your little situation, you’d think. So you better suck it up buttercup and make it through another day in the levels of hell. 

Now, Emergency,  that’s a different beast. You’re too busy to get laid most days. Shoko, at least, has the decency to admit the job sucks. Death. Blood. Screaming. She doesn’t sugarcoat it.

She just slips a little candy into your pocket with a scribbled note: Meet me by the smoking area.

And when you get there, she’s already waiting, smoke curling from her lips, eyes narrowed like she’s about to scold you for being late. But the second she sees you, she moves. No hesitation. You're slammed against the concrete wall before you can speak, her mouth ghosting over yours, cigarette still smoldering between two fingers as her free hand slips between your legs, pressing hard through your scrubs.

"You looked so sexy elbow-deep in that guy’s chest," she hums, coffee colored eyes half-lidded, voice smooth. "Bet you’d be even prettier cumming against my hand."

You barely manage a whimper before she’s moving in earnest, tight, punishing circles that leave you gasping and twitching. Your nails scrape down the wall, desperate for something to hold onto, splintering against the concrete as she keeps going.

Shoko's not the type to kiss you. Well, not during quickies like these. Doesn’t let you catch your breath. She doesn’t coo or soothe or give you anything soft.

She just works you over like another procedure, fast and efficient, done right the first time. No mistakes allowed. Just her fingers buried in your tight pretty cunt that sings for her. Leaving you only with that clinical detachment in her eyes, like you’re nothing more than a body on the table.

Her pager goes off again. She doesn’t even glance at it.

"Come on, sweetheart." Her voice is calm, almost bored. "If you take too long, that man’s gonna die. I could be there right now cracking open his ribs. But you had to come find me, huh?"

You try to apologize, try to speak, but she only tuts and presses harder, grinding her palm against the soaked fabric like it’s your fault she’s doing this.

"Jesus," she mutters, half-laughing now. "You’re already dripping. Don’t act like you didn’t want this."

And when you finally cum, hard and far too messy, crying into the crook of her neck, she only pulls back to flick her cigarette to the ground and pick up her pager.

"There we go," she says, slapping your ass once as she straightens her lab coat, already tucking her pager back into her pocket as if she didn’t make you cum against a wall in under ninety seconds. "See? That wasn’t so hard. Now let’s go save a life."

So yeah. Work is its own flavor of hell. It’s not like you haven’t tried going to HR about it. You have. Multiple times. Every time you walk in there, bright-eyed and shaking, it’s the same damn story.

"Well… they’re really respectable individuals!" "Been working here for years, you know!" "They’re married, actually! That’s sweet, right?" "No, no, it’s not that we don’t believe you - "

But their voices always trail off. Replaced by the sound of glances. The kind that say we don’t get paid enough for this.

There’s always a long pause. Then a wince from the intern behind the desk as he leans over and mutters to his mentor, “She’s crying. Should... we go?”

As if you’re the problem. As if the tears pooling in your eyes are the inconvenience, not the fact that Utahime left bite marks on your chest this morning and Shoko made you cum so hard your knees gave out ten minutes ago, between codes.

Because apparently, it’s hard to take a victim seriously when the predators have tenure and a joint tax return.

You sniffle, wiping your mascara with the back of your hand, smearing it more than anything. Your throat aches from holding it together. You’d rather be elbow-deep in shit and vomit, dealing with feral patients and hysterical family members, than sit through one more condescending HR meeting where your trauma gets filed under “miscellaneous.”

So you do what you always do. You drag your aching feet toward the locker room to clock out after your sixteen-hour shift. Your spine’s screaming, your heart in shambles, and your skin still smells like antiseptic and vomit.

You just want to go home. Take a shower. Pee. And go to bed.

But of course, there's only so much luck a person can have; they’re there.

Shoko and Utahime, mid-argument near the lockers, voices hushed. Shoko’s in her usual low drawl, arms crossed, while Utahime’s biting back fury with a tight jaw and flared nostrils. It’s nothing new. They’ve been circling each other like this for weeks.

Maybe it was just the fatigue. Maybe it was the quiet hum of fluorescent lights. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t eaten a real meal in two days.

But you break. Full-body, shaking sobs right there in the entrance to the locker room with the door shutting behind you. A foreign sound ripped from your throat, something you’ve been holding in since your first shift.

And Utahime is on you in seconds.

No longer in her bright hot pink scrubs, now dressed in something civilian, motherly perhaps, given the sweater. Slender hands move to cup your face, swiping away your tears with the pads of her thumbs. Ignoring the snot and the harsh cries echoing in the room.

"What happened?" she coos, voice sugar-sweet. "Shoko and I aren’t arguing, baby." (They were.)

She strokes your cheek, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Murmuring gentle nonsense into your hair, acting unaware that she is part of the actual problem.

Meanwhile, Shoko zips up her bag in front of her locker with all the emotional investment of someone tossing out biohazard. Her scrubs hit the bottom of the bag with a dull thud, still stained at the cuff from whatever last trauma she patched up, and her voice doesn’t so much as waver as she mutters without looking your way:

"What’s wrong? Worried we’d find out about your little HR complaints?"

Utahime shoots her a glare so sharp it could slice. You’re being mean, she mouths, tight-lipped and furious. Voice softening again the second she turns back to you. Hushing your hiccupping sobs gently, guiding you down to sit on the bench by the steel-grey lockers, her hands never wavering from your skin. You feel yourself go limp under her touch. Sometimes its better to be tended to bare it all yourself.

She moves between your legs and crouches in front of you, knees hitting the floor, perfect posture as always, warm palms sliding up your thighs. Those soft brown eyes blink up at you, too wide and warm, like she’s never done a cruel thing in her life.

"I think you’re a little overwhelmed, baby," she murmurs, her voice like honey melting in tea. "Not everybody’s built for days this long. But it’s okay. Shoko and I can take care of you."

Her voice shakes slightly at the end, not with fear, but barely restrained eagerness. You can feel it in her grip. That tremble, that quiet thrum beneath her skin like she’s thrilled. Behind the blurry shimmer of your tears, you can almost see the smile tugging at her lips. That little spark behind her lashes at the thought: You. At their place. Safe. Caged. Loved.

You glance over at Shoko.

She smiles at you, that lazy half-smirk she always wears post-shift, her tired eyes softer now that the chaos of the ER is over. She looks calm. Pleased, even. Right before she tilts her head and drawls,

"It’d be a shame if the authorities found some... really secure medication in your pockets on your way back to your apartment."

Your breath catches, but Utahime doesn’t even flinch. As if this was what they were arguing about. What to do with you.

She just hums, warm and low, and moves her hand closer to the tender heat between your thighs. Again. What was this now? Your third orgasm of the day? Maybe fourth? It all blurred together at this point.

You shift uncomfortably, trying to squirm away. "I’m too sore," you managed to mumble, voice cracking at the edges. A broken sound.

Utahime hushes you gently, her tone almost maternal as her fingers begin peeling your scrubs down your hips with gentle care.

"Shhh, baby," she coos, folding the fabric like she’s tucking in a child. "Just getting you ready to go home."

But her eyes fixate on your panties, the pretty pink rose in the front, slick with arousal. She leans in, slowly and spreads your sore legs from standing on your feet all day wider. Her pretty pink tongue drags a slow, delicate stripe over the pink cloth, circling your covered clit with cruel, experienced swipes. Dampening the cloth. Her perfectly manicured nails dig into your thighs when you try to close them. Barely hard enough to break skin, leaving pretty crescents for later when you cry in the bath looking at them.

Meanwhile, Shoko speaks casually, as if you’re not gasping from her wife's mouth.

"We got a notice from HR today," she says, nudging your chin up with two fingers. "They wanted to fire you, you know. Said you’d been a real problem lately - all that whistleblowing. But we were kind. We made sure our pretty girl was leaving on a good note... contract-wise."

You whimper as Utahime's tongue presses harder, your panties soaked now, fingers tangling into her hair, dragging against her scalp, as your hips buck without thinking. More. Your body doesn’t care that it hurts. That you’re raw. It just wants.

"We told them the whole thing was a cry for attention. That you weren’t being harassed, you were just trying to get between us. Trying to ruin our marriage."

You try to shake your head. Try to deny her. Try to say something, anything, but all that escapes is a wrecked little moan when Utahime finally hooks her fingers into your sopping panties and drags them to the side. Her breath flutters against your folds, watching you twitch and squirm as she moves to dip in. Kissing your sweet little bundle of nerves softly. Lips brushing against your folds, savoring every little taste of you. Ignoring the musk as she swirls her soft, teasing tongue over your clit.

You jerk when her thumb pushes your folds apart, the humid press of her breath causing your thighs to tremble during her first lick. A long stroke against your entrance, slow and savoring before pushing in.

The thick muscle invading your tight walls as you clench around it. Hips bucking to get her to move faster, alas, she's cruel and keeps a slow pace. A broken sob breaks through your throat. A hum vibrates against your folds, low and sweet, as she laps at you with that gentle insistence that makes your thighs forcibly close. The only thing preventing them is her death grip. Those gentle hands, holding your trembling thighs wide open as you try to writhe away from how good it feels.

A good that should feel wrong.

Your walls pathetically flutter around her tongue, helplessly clenching with each slow press deeper. She wiggles it, twisting just enough to make you gasp, and then does it again. And again.

And again.

You let out another broken, pathetic sound - high and choked - as your head falls back against the wall. Your hips try to jerk forward, trying to ride her mouth as Utahime pulls aware with the sweetest giggle. Using the back of her hand to wipe her mouth.

Shoko lets you writhe and whine for a moment before she reaches out and pulls you into her lap, arms cradling you like a doll. Her legs force yours wider, your body trembling as her slender fingers spread your delicate folds open, keeping you exposed as Utahime presses in again. Her tongue pushes into your fluttering, soaked cunt, fucking you lazily with obscene wet sounds echoing in the sterile locker room.

Shoko leans in, her lips brushing your ear.

"So?" she whispers, grip tightening. "How are you going to save our marriage?"

You can't answer.

Your back arches instinctively, helplessly, as Utahime sinks two fingers deep inside your pussy, knuckles flushed to your slick folds, her wrist working unforgiving strokes into your already sore heat. She’s not speaking anymore. Just watching. Lips parted slightly, sweat beading at her temple, eyes locked on the way your cunt sucks her in, greedy and twitching despite the overstimulation.

It’s too much. You’re raw. You’re pulsing. Your body keeps going even when your mind wants to shut down.

Shoko brushes a stray tear from your cheek with the back of her finger, so sweet you might almost forget what her and her spouse are doing, until she speaks again, voice thick like poison.

"So?"

You don’t answer again. Not even when you try to mutter a please stop. Not when Utahime curls her fingers just right, dragging across your most sensitive spot, and your whole body jolts.

Shoko chuckles softly. Shifts beneath you, keeping you cradled in her lap, her long legs spread wide to hold yours open, while her wife treats you like a patient splayed out on the table.

"I asked you a question, dove," she murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "How are you going to fix what you did?"

Utahime’s pace quickens, her palm slapping softly against your pussy with every cruel thrust. It’s wet. Messy. Loud. Resting her cheek on your thigh, not even wincing at the juice spluttering out of your leaking cunt.

You try to answer. You really do. But all that comes out is a pathetic little whimper, your voice catching as your hips jerk forward. Your hands scramble for something, anything, gripping Shoko’s sleeve, clawing at Utahime’s wrist, but neither woman falters.

"Mmm… that’s not a very good apology," Shoko sighs, fingers trailing down your stomach, pressing just above where Utahime’s knuckles disappear into you. "You lied to HR. You embarrassed us."

"Come on, baby," Utahime whispers against your inner thigh, voice trembling, "show us you’re sorry. Let us feel it."

Shoko reaches between your legs, slipping two fingers around your clit and circling slowly, not to help, but to control the rhythm. Your legs kick. Your head tilts back with a sob.

"There she goes," Shoko purrs, grinning as she watches your eyes roll back. "Sweet little slut’s finally ready to make things right."

And when you cum - again - it hits harder than it should. A scream caught in your throat, muscles clenching down on Utahime’s fingers like you’re trying to trap her inside. The world goes fuzzy around the edges.

But they don’t stop. Utahime pumps you through it, still pushing deep, still chasing the next orgasm like it’s her reward for keeping you.

Shoko leans close again, breath warm on your ear.

"That’s a start," she whispers. "But you’ll have to do better than that if you want to keep your job. Or your apartment. Or your sweet little life."

Your hips are shaking , maybe from exhaustion or even from the orgasm still echoing through your nerves. You barely register the shift until you feel it: Utahime’s third finger pushing in slow, knuckle by knuckle, joining the other two already buried deep inside your fluttering cunt.

You release a sharp gasp, a plea of sorts, and Shoko tightens her hold around you, arms banded over your chest, chin resting on your shoulder as she watches your soaked pussy stretch around Utahime’s fingers.

Utahime just grins. Not the soft smile you’re used to. Not the gentle, nurturing head-tilt of the Pediatrics department head.

No, this smile is hungry.

A little wild.

A little too pleased.

"Oh, look at you, baby," she coos, voice thick with delight. "Taking three fingers like such a good girl."

Her pace slows into a more gentle, not to give you mercy, but to make you feel every inch of her boney fingers. The slide. The stretch. The way her palm presses tight to your clit with each drag back, her wrist rolling just right.

"Didn’t think you could handle it. Thought you were sore, huh?"

You try to answer, but it’s impossible not when your mouth refuses to work work, your brain fizzed out somewhere between her second orgasm and this one.

Shoko clicks her tongue above you.

"If she passes out," she says casually, "that’s consent to take her home, right?"

You twitch, whimper, body arching between them, Utahime’s fingers pushing deeper, rubbing a spot that makes your eyes roll back.

"Mmm. Don’t worry," Shoko murmurs, brushing your hair back, "we’ve already got a room ready. Soft sheets. Bottles prepped."

Utahime doesn’t stop fucking you. Doesn’t even slow down. Her other hand rests possessively on your thigh, keeping you open, spread, obedient.

"We’ve been wanting kids for a while now, haven’t we?" she muses aloud, eyes fixed on where her wife's fingers disappear into you. "Neither of us really had the time… but maybe we just needed the right girl to stay home for us."

You shake your head weakly, but it’s useless when your cunt’s tightening, pulsing around her fingers, slick dripping to the floor with every sloppy thrust.

"Shh," Utahime whispers, listening to the way your cunt sings for her. "No need to think so hard, sweetheart. You’ll get all the rest you need when you're carrying."

All you can manage is a choked moan as you gush around her fingers, body trembling, vision blurring at the edges. You hear her giggle with excitement just before your eyes start to flutter shut.

"You're going to be such a good mommy for us"

[portalhan]

⠀ꔫ˚　༝　◌ ⌒⌒ three strikes !

↳ jeongin swears on his life that he's seen something odd between you and felix... exactly three times, in fact, but he needs more concrete proof...

PAIRING: felix lee x gn!reader

FORMAT: one shot

GENRE: college au, friends to lovers, fluff, jeongin third wheeling...

WARNINGS: brief mentions of food and being sick (just the flu bug nothing huge)

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

FAE'S NOTES: this is just a little bit half-assed... idk if i have much faith in this and i believe i can do better than this but i'm gonna post it anyway for you guys! please let me know if you have any feedback, my writing muscles have basically atrophied and i need to find my rhythm again TT

jeongin doesn't usually second-guess his closest friends like this, but something has changed. he knows you and felix well enough to know at least that.

you have always been hard to read. you're an independent, reliable sort of person, not outwardly emotional nor needlessly arrogant either—you tend to show your love for your friends through small, quiet gestures. felix, on the other hand, is someone who wears his heart on his sleeve—almost to a fault. always baking extra brownies to gift people, always going the extra mile, always looking on the bright side, even in the darkest of situations. he is as fragile as he is affectionate.

yes, affectionate. that's the word he's been looking for to describe the changes in your friendship with felix. you've been more affectionate. jeongin has always chalked it up to felix's own proclivities rubbing off on you given the sheer amount of time you spend together, but now... he's not so sure it's that simple. there have been three strikes jeongin has kept score of so far.

STRIKE #1

jeongin remembers it was a tuesday, because that's the only day of the week where all three of you shared classes. you would always sit in a row near the back of the class. he has made it a point to memorise both yours and felix's timetables this semester—as do the both of you with him—so he knows you don't usually have prior arrangements before coming to campus. you've always had a tradition of meeting in the lobby before walking to class together as a result.

so, when his phone pings with a message from you saying 'sorry innie, we're gonna be a bit late! pls go to class first, just save us seats', he is immediately struck with confusion. what did you mean, "we"? felix, uncharacteristically, hasn't said a word and it's already 5 minutes shy from when class starts. he always arrives at least 10 minutes before. how strange, jeongin thinks to himself as he trudges up the stairs to class, incredibly unfamiliar with the circumstance of having to do so on his own for the first time. he just brushes the nagging suspicion off, telling himself it was probably because of some public transport situation that's delayed you both—not something entirely uncommon.

it's about 15 minutes into the class before he sees you. the second he spots felix and you stumbling through the doors, profusely apologising to the professor for your tardiness, though, is when the same sensation of suspicion comes back. as you and felix shuffle to make their way to the seats jeongin saved for you, he can't help but notice your attire. you're wearing an oversized black shirt with some graphic of an anime printed on. jeongin's eyes squint as he stares at it, assuming it must have been a new purchase of yours. but he swears he's seen it before.

when you and felix take your seats and the professors picks up where she left off, felix turns to jeongin and apologises for being late. "we're really sorry jeongin, we owe you one," he quips, before he fishes his laptop out of his bag. the younger boy just shrugs it off as no big deal. plus, he had something else on his mind to worry about than harp on the two of you being late to class.

the dots quickly connect a few moments later in jeongin's head. felix has a shirt just like the one you're wearing. he swears he's seen him wearing it before, just last week when the three of you had gone out for dinner. it's been a shirt of his for years now, so worn down by so many uses that it has bleach stains on the sleeves, despite how much care felix puts into his clothing.

jeongin leans back in his chair and slowly, subtly pushes it back. he steals a glance at your side profile, thankfully without either you or felix noticing. there they were: bleach stains on the sleeves. upon further inspection, the shirt you were wearing looks way too worn out to be a new shirt—he concludes it must be felix's. but why would you wear felix's dank shirt to begin with? it would be weird to ask if that's his shirt you were wearing, so he decides to keep his silence for now.

STRIKE #2

this time, it was jeongin's turn to be late. the three of you had planned a picnic to celebrate the end of the gruelling semester—an idea felix suggested. he wanted it to be a potluck, so the each of you planned to bring something of your own making along.

jeongin wanted to go all out with his: he wanted to bake cupcakes, something felix had recently taught him how to. he wanted to show you his latest endeavours, baked fresh, but he didn't expect it to go sideways so last minute. he ended up showing up almost half an hour late, hair sticking to his forehead from all the sweat and cupcake frosting smeared all over the tupperware he placed them in out of haste.

when he finally spots the two of you amid the grass field at the park, he notices something... odd. he stops in his tracks to catch his breath and squints his eyes to get a better look. if he didn't know any better, he'd have thought you two were... holding hands? the sun was glaring directly in his face, obscuring his vision, so jeongin couldn't be 100% sure. but what he does know is that your figures were so close to each other they were practically shoulder-to-shoulder. this isn't exactly beyond felix, who is notorious for his habits of physical affection. but it is most certainly out of character for you, as someone who prefers to keep most people at an arm's length.

jeongin shrugs it off. he guesses felix nor he would be considered "most people". perhaps it was a trick of the light. he also doesn't have good enough reason to find it entirely strange—perhaps felix had gotten through to you in that regard. he had bigger things to worry about: your dinner getting cold.

STRIKE #3

the legitimacy of the third time is still up for debate, jeongin surmises. this time it wasn't your behaviour around each other, instead more so about how felix in particular reacted.

this happened over summer break. he remembers the sun being more unrelenting than ever—40 degrees celsius to be exact, he saw on the news—so you three had just decided to hang out in your bedroom, where the air conditioning is the coolest and crispiest (according to you). jeongin vividly recalls you lying on your stomach atop your bed, while the two boys were sprawled on the floor. that is, the carpet that laid over the spot where they would usually sprawl on the floor.

it was one of those 'parallel play' days, as you liked to call them. not necessarily doing things together, but doing separate things in the presence of each other, you said one time. felix was busy on his switch playing some pokemon game, you were scrolling on your phone and jeongin was just seconds away from drifting off to sleep on felix's lap.

it's been silent for, what, almost two hours now? but you end up breaking it first. "woah," you suddenly exclaimed, brows furrowing as you read something on your screen. "do you guys remember seungmin? from calculus?"

jeongin does not move an inch aside from nodding his head, and felix just lets out a little "yeah?" though his eyes were never once peeled from the console screen.

"i think he just asked me out," you tell them, bewildered.

this, of course, elicits reactions of surprise from jeongin and felix. the former lifts himself and sits up to ask details, while the other just turns the switch off—did he even save his progress on the game?—and sits there in silence as he silently watches you and jeongin discuss your classmate's... proposition. jeongin makes a playful jab at how you could have given him the wrong idea by flirting with him, which you immediately shut down. "i've never done anything suggestive to him, i swear!" you exclaimed in full defense.

seungmin has only ever made conversation with you once or twice in class, jeongin recalls. you also never really put in the effort to get to know your other classmates if jeongin and felix were in the same classes. jeongin makes a passing comment about how seungmin could pass as your type (if you squint hard enough), but it falls on deaf ears when you and felix meet each other's gazes.

"you're gonna tell him no, right?" felix suddenly chimes in after moments of prolonged silence, raspy voice cracking just a little. jeongin snaps his head to turn and look at his friend, head tilted and brow lifted. you give felix a look jeongin cannot quite describe, and chuckle with a soft smile as you nod. "of course i'm gonna say no," you assure him. he lets out a very heavy sigh of relief, but none of this goes unnoticed by jeongin.

this is very weird, jeongin remembers thinking. you have always been receptive to potential love interests, even if they weren't necessarily people you'd normally be into. so why are you so sure now that you'd reject seungmin without even giving him a chance?

on that note, what's it to felix who asks you out? why does he have a say? plus, he could've sworn he detected some semblance of... jealousy in his question. but he supposes that could be normal considering all three of you are so used to spending time with each other. jeongin does admit to himself that he'd feel lonely if you were to be whisked away by some stranger out of nowhere. it wouldn't be the same.

jeongin has theories, maybe even concepts of a theory, but no concrete enough proof for confrontation—so far. it looks like he has to wait till he does before he can address the massive elephant in the room.

FINAL STRIKE

it finally happens when he decides to stop by your apartment with take-out. you had told your friends about falling sick the night before—alas, you have caught the flu bug. they were just textbook symptoms like a low-grade fever, sore throat and a runny nose, nothing to worry about in particular, you told them. but jeongin just so happens to pass by your neighbourhood on his usual route home from work, so he decides to drop in with some chicken soup for you as a small surprise. you had already been texting the group chat the entire day about how exhausted you were to make yourself a half-decent dinner, so jeongin thought this would be a nice way to take care of his friend.

he knocks on your door multiple times to no response. maybe you're sleeping? he looks around the potted plants sitting outside your door and lifts the snake plant up, grabbing the rusted spare key tucked away from prying eyes just underneath. he quickly and quietly unlocks the front door and lets himself in. i'll just go in, check on y/n and put this soup on the table, he tells himself as he enters. maybe text you to let you know he got you dinner.

that is, until a warm aroma of what he believes to be fresh bolognese wafts to where he is at the front door. he hears the distant clanging of pots and pans coming from the kitchen, and—strangest of all—he hears... conversation? he can definitely hear you talking and even giggling, but he can't quite make out who the other person was. he's about 99% sure there was someone else in here, but could it be just a phone call? he sneaks down the hallway to the kitchen, the noises getting clearer as he inches closer. when he sticks his head out from a blind corner to peek into the kitchen, he sees it: felix plating a fresh bowl of spaghetti while you're sitting on the dining table engaged in idle chatter. a lump catches in his throat—what is felix doing here? and most importantly, why didn't he know of this? he felt momentarily betrayed.

jeongin just stands there in silence, unsure of how to confront you, while you and felix continue chatting. it's only when felix sets down two plates of pasta and goes in to plant a peck on your cheek does jeongin yelp in shock, which frightens all three of you.

felix squints his eyes, which widen in utter disbelief when he recognises the familiar facade lurking by the corridor. "jeong...in?" he asks, voice trembling a little from disbelief. when he says jeongin's name, you shoot him a similar look, but this one is more panicked and afraid. jeongin awkwardly steps out within view, but he puts a hand up to cover his mouth to prevent himself from screaming. he raises the other arm to point an accusatory finger at the both of you. you swear you just heard felix gulp next to you.

"i..." jeongin sputters. "i knew it! i knew something was going on between you two idiots!"

the verbalisation of his revelation is what completely opens the floodgates, causing the entire place to erupt in complete and utter chaos. jeongin paces back and forth with the chicken soup still dangling from his fingers as he rants about how he's caught you doing "weird stuff" a couple of times but couldn't have known, about how he's been feeling a little left out recently, how you have been looking at felix funny sometimes. meanwhile, felix just begins to talk over him with near-equal (if not more) amounts of sheer panic and distress, reaching out to him to get him to calm down while explaining that this wasn't how they had intended for him to find out.

you, crippled by the shock from jeongin's unexpected appearance, just sit there, unable to do much of anything what with your flu, just silently watching felix and jeongin form a panic attack circle jerk in your own house.

"enough!" jeongin raises his voice, which immediately shuts felix up. jeong has never raised his voice. you shoot felix a nervous look.

"i thought we were best friends," jeongin utters, the slightest hint of melancholy lacing his voice. he looks offended. you've never seen him look this offended, not even when he was accused of academic misconduct that one time. "i'm happy for you, ecstatic even! i swear i am, but really? why would you keep this for me for so long?"

you decide you should talk to him—felix is very clearly out of his depth when it comes to handling intense situations like this and he's only making jeongin feel worse with all the jabbering. you stand up from your seat on the table and walk over to him, taking your hands in his.

"i'm sorry, jeongin. we... we weren't entirely sure of how we were gonna do this," you tell him, almost in a whisper.

felix scratches the back of his neck, avoiding any and all eye contact with either of you. "we wanted to keep it quiet," he admits. "at first, at least."

you nod in agreement, and turn back to look at jeongin. "you were going to be the first person we would break the news to. not even our own parents, i swear," you divulge, while you spot felix in the corner of your eye making a silent crossed hearts gesture to double down on his sincerity. jeongin's once-tense features start to ease up a bit, but not entirely. "you are our best friend. we never want you to feel like this. we're sorry," you assure him, before pulling him into a bear hug. you feel felix join from behind you to make it a group hug.

"i don't care what you guys have going on, but don't keep any more secrets from me. got it?" your friend huffs after you all pull back, feigning some sort of authority. felix chuckles at how ridiculous he sounds—being the youngest of the three, the tone just sounds alien when it comes from him. "we would never," felix tells him, reaching out to give jeongin a firm pat on the back. "i think y/n might like you more than me anyway, they're always going, 'we should call jeongin! we should send him a photo! we should—"

your palm slaps against the lower half of your boyfriend's face in protest. "we might be dating but you're on thin ice," you glare at him, before he raises both hands to surrender.

jeongin jovially chimes in to break the tension: "can i just say, i've always felt like you'd get along. aren't you glad i introduced you to each other? you wouldn't be a thing if it weren't for me, ya know." felix and you just huff in response—he can have this.

[digitalsymbiote]

What makes a Mech a Mech?

Now you might think it's the shape: Humanoid, bipedal, articulated limbs. And once upon a time that might have been the case. These days those machines are a lot more diverse though, come in all sorts of shapes and sizes; you got quadrupeds, winged mechs, hell sometimes ones that don't got any arms or legs at all.

No, what makes a Mech a Mech, is the Neural Link.

Mechs are unique in the way that their pilots get wired into them. They plug their brain into a machine and they become that machine.

Y'see that's why so many of the early models were so standardized, modeled after our own anatomy and musculature. Back when the tech was first being developed, the test pool was pretty limited. All military types, foot soldiers and the like. Those folks tend to have something of a limited imagination, creativity and individuality gets beaten out of 'em until they conform to the template of what the military wants 'em to be.

Which means they aren't all that great at imaginin' their body as anythin' other than what it is.

So all those early prototypes had to conform to that. If they wanted a pilot to have a decent enough Link Aptitude, they needed Mechs that the pilots could see themselves as. Folks were already used to havin' two arms and two legs, replacin' 'em with metal instead of flesh was a short enough leap that those folks could handle it.

But y'see then they started expandin' the applicant pool; researchers and developers moved outside the military in search of folks with higher Link Aptitude. And they found that humanity is a lot more diverse than that template the military beats into its soldiers. Turns out folks can be a lot more creative with their body map. Not everybody fits into that standardized definition of what humanity is.

They were lookin' in the completely wrong place with the military, turns out. Conformity is all well and good when you're trynna rush somethin' off the assembly line, but when you're trynna really push the limits of what's possible? Well you gotta get a bit more creative with it.

That's why you don't usually see the jugheads piloting mechs anymore. They ain't as good with all the fanciness companies are packin' into them these days. Now y'know who is good with all of that? Queer folks. Transgender folks especially. Turns out growin' up in the wrong body and learnin' to deal with that makes you real good at dissociatin' and messin' with your body map. Makes it a lot easier to trick your brain into thinkin' some weird part of this metal colossus is actually part of your body now.

Once they sorted that out, synchronicity rates skyrocketed. Led to a lot of other good things too. Y'see suddenly Queer and Trans folks were prime candidates for bein' pilots, corpos needed 'em. Which meant they had to make it safe enough for folks to be those things, or at least enough to admit it to the recruiters. Kinda funny thinkin' back, that that was what tipped the scales, but I suppose you can always trust corpos to do what corpos do.

But anyway, that's why so many Mechs are custom made to their pilots nowadays. That's why they craft the IMPs alongside the pilots through basic training. You gotta build a system that'll fit the pilot's body map, and ideally one that'll make the most of it.

If that pilot's more comfortable with a tail? Give that Mech a tail. Digitigrade legs? Quadrupedal? Fuck it, if it works for the pilot, throw that shit on there. Y'see ultimately, through the Neural Link, all you gotta be able to do is trick your brain into thinkin' that Mech is your body, and then it's off to the races.

And that moment, when your mind slips into that metal monstrosity and suddenly you feel more at home than you ever did in your own flesh and blood? That's what pilots live and die for. That's how you know the engineers did a good job.

And that's what makes a Mech a Mech.

[therobotsarestuckinmyhead]

Hi, I hope you're doing well! I wanted to make a request—could you write a Transformers Prime headcanon featuring Optimus, Ratchet, and Smokescreen with a Cybertronian reader [male] [platonic]? The reader is a survivor of the war on Cybertron, a young medic who fled the planet after its fall. He managed to take some sparklings with him and has been caring for them ever since

☆ “NEW BASE, NEW FAMILY.”

anon, this is a unique ask and i love it! i haven’t specified the number of sparklings so you can take your pick! also i've never really written a male POV before… it's a new experience so forgive me if its not upto the mark!

including: Optimus, Ratchet, Smokescreen

BACKGROUND:

Your ship, it was a mini battle ship you'd miraculously managed to steal from Decepticons during your more reckless days, it could hold maybe about… what? Ten bots? And you, being the responsible medic you were, made sure to bring aboard sparklings you'd taken pity on. Endless days of drifting in space, scouring for some or the other energon reserves you could get, it's left a toll on you. You look older than you really are and you've begun to understand the senior medics.

The moment you got that message from Optimus asking all Autobots to come to Earth, it was like a Christmas gift, your faceplates immediately lit up— your own supplies were running low and your generosity appointed you the title of Sire to the terrors that run around your ship, you've been nothing short of exhausted and famished, running on energon fumes in your tanks. It's hectic to keep them in line but their joy, their excited faces and giggles is reminiscent of an era where war was far away and getting energon in your tanks was your only concern.

And you hoped that this new refuge that the Autobots had found— Earth, was enough to provide for you and the sparklings you'd basically adopted. The tenants of your ship who live off your generosity. You don't really want to accept fatherhood. After all, you yourself are maybe just a few vorns older than the two young soldiers. Maybe there were other Autobots, older and more experienced that could deal with them…

But you were hopeful too quickly. The moment your ship entered near the orbit, the massive size of The Nemesis made no effort to conceal itself and attempted to shoot you down immediately. However, you were able to establish communications with the Autobot base on Earth within that time; sending coordinates of your impromptu landing so that you and your group could be taken to the Autobots before Vehicon scouts arrived.

OPTIMUS:

— The moment an Autobot distress call reached the console, everyone quickly huddled around. At first, Prime was skeptical there was a chance it could be a cheap Decepticon trick and it wouldn't be the first time they fell for something like that.

— But even if there was a silver chance that it was genuine, Optimus knew he had to go. It was only appropriate for the Prime himself to be there to welcome Autobots that are new to their temporary refuge, Earth.

— Thankfully, he got there before any Vehicon drones. But your ship is busted, it's far too damaged by the fire it's taken from The Nemesis and Prime knows they don't have the resources at hand to fix your ship… You'll unfortunately have to leave it behind and go with him through the ground bridge.

— When the ship door opens, he sees you. You're… not someone he really recognizes. Smokescreen, who was with him, knew you. So Prime didn't have much of an issue.

— He quickly escorted you out of the ship and he saw the sparklings, he was… Shocked to say the least. Their planet's core had died out, they must've been the last few young sparks to crawl out of The Well. His tone turns somber, he doesn't say a word as he's going through the land bridge with you. It had been far too long since he'd seen sparklings.

— Optimus realizes you'd taken them in and a newfound respect for you swells in his spark. You're young, despite the tiredness on your features, he knows you're not as old and despite this, you're taking up such a big responsibility and from how happy the young ones seem to be, you're doing a good job at it too.

— Once at the Autobase, he will introduce you to everyone and then proceed to have Ratchet run a diagnostic on your systems, a routine check up just to make sure you're healthy and fit. Optimus will then proceed to check up on you regularly to make sure you're getting to know the place better and even mingle with the humans.

— One thing he didn't expect is how… absolutely awestruck the sparklings look at him. Like they're amazed by him. They follow him around sometimes with this wide smile but too shy to really ask anything. It makes him smile a bit. You've told stories of Autobots and their heroics so those sparklings idolize him. He isn't sure on what to feel about being idolized.

— But soon enough, he's like a second father. When you can't get them under control, all Optimus has to do is say a word and they behave readily. It makes you crack your neck at him and look very confused; you've been struggling for cycles with them and all Optimus has to do is say a word? Arcee jokes from the side saying “Power of a Prime.” which honestly, just makes you snicker.

— Optimus gives you counsel. He knows you've been through a lot given you were by yourself with some sparklings within a ship that was barely holding itself together in the midst of a war. He will give you solid advice on what to do with your life.

— He starts to make conversation with the sparklings and he's surprisingly good with them. Optimus tells them stories and they sit there with crossed legs, the human children; Raf, Miko and Jack are there too. Raf sitting on one of the sparklings’ knees, Miko sitting on another’s pauldron and Jack leaning against another one’s servo as they all listen. Story time is a pleasant time at the base and soon it becomes routine. But then they all bombard him with questions, it's like he's being interviewed.

— Optimus helps make the parenting part easier, a lot easier. The Prime wonders how you managed for so long. There's a hint of admiration in his tone when he talks about how you managed with sparklings by yourself in space.

— He gently teaches them how to fight. Optimus knows his own strength so he's rather good at teaching them and he's probably the only one that should be allowed to.

— However, he is worried that the sparklings will end up in the crossfires of battle. He appreciates their presence because they light up the base, it's a lot more lively and they get along well with the humans. But they're not allowed to really leave the base because Optimus is more worried about them when it comes to being seen by humans; he knows they can be careless sometimes.

SMOKESCREEN:

— Imagine his surprise when he saw his old buddy that used to give him a quick fix after getting his aft shot at by ‘Cons left and right! He's elated to see you. But also very concerned because holy frag, you've changed... You're almost as grumpy looking as Ratchet! What happened to you?

— And then he sees what happened to you. He literally takes a step back when he sees sparklings. But he is happy, he's got a wide smile. He's no longer the youngest in the group now! Smokescreen is rejoicing.

— The moment you're done with your check-up with Ratchet, Smokescreen makes his appearance to catch up with you. He is younger than you. The first thing he probably says is about how you look like you have rust in your joints like Ratchet to which the medic death-glares at him and Smokes just… nervously chuckles with instant regret.

— Smokescreen is the one that fills you in on the current situation once Optimus is done introducing everyone. He also excitedly shows you and the sparklings around the base.

— He teases you and calls you a ‘Sire’ while you sit there with a scowl on your face. You're too young to be a Sire! You're not accepting that title for the life of you so Smokescreen teasingly calls you a Sire most of the time.

— He's sort of… disappointed with how you've changed though. You're no longer fun-loving and eager like you used to be, it's like the weight of responsibility sucked out the whimsical part of you!

— But don't worry, Smokescreen knows what to do! When the sparklings are engaged with Optimus, he and you go for a quick race or two depending on what story Optimus is closing to say. It doesn't matter if he loses this one though, he just wants his friend to be himself once again.

— He's the fun older brother to the sparklings (Wheeljack is the fun uncle). Smokescreen insists that he can handle the sparklings and takes them out on drives sometimes, only ever on the periphery of Jasper though. You just pray that they're well-behaved because you know damn well Smokescreen will not be able to handle unruly sparklings.

— Also, he teases the sparklings sometimes. They huff and taunt him back. He's getting jumped. Help him. It was a bad idea to make fun of them because now he's being verbally assaulted by a group of children who seem to have no remorse whatsoever. He's losing horribly.

— He also spars with them! Optimus said it's important that they learn how to defend themselves so Smokescreen took the liberty of training them and Optimus hesitantly agreed. But he sort of… messed up once and Optimus sort of… uh… revoked him from that post- But we don't talk about that! Smokescreen does spar with you though and there's no mishaps when that happens.

— He’s surprisingly responsible when it comes to the sparklings’ needs, immediately coming to you when their fuel tanks are low. Also, he would definitely carry one around against their will just because he can. Smokescreen is the fun but annoying older brother, he enjoys annoying them. The sparklings have extremely mixed feelings about him.

— The race car can see how much you've improved since you've come to the Autobase. You're so much happier and calmer. It makes him feel relieved because you looked like a stressed out mess when he and Optimus found you! It's like he's getting glimpses of his old friend again and he's happy with those crumbs.

— He's also in-charge of babysitting duty when you're busy. Smokescreen loathes it but hey, at least the humans are also there with him. Cue human children and Cybertronian sparklings having a cultural exchange.

RATCHET:

— He was the first to see the distress call after Agent Fowler mentioned something about the main console beeping. Ratchet couldn't believe it at first, leaning in closer to make sure he read the data correctly. He called everyone over and informed Optimus immediately about the distress call. He knew that ship… And he hoped, Primus, he hoped it wasn't a trick.

— The second your group along with your escorts; Prime and Smokescreen entered the ground bridge, Ratchet’s face had a rare smile upon recognizing one of his students.

— But then he saw the sparklings excitedly following behind Optimus and his optics widened, his smile fell— not into a frown, he was just surprised. Ratchet hadn't seen sparklings in so very long. The medic is also concerned on whether or not the energon they have in storage will be enough for everyone.

— Oh you poor thing. He can see the tiredness in your optics with how dimly it glows. You're probably running on fumes. He figures he should catch up with you and probably give you a check up, it's not easy to dress your own wounds. He can see your rough patchwork and is quick to chide you for such shabby dressing as he's fixing you up better.

— Ratchet is happy to have another medic around, especially someone he knows and had sort of trained for a short while. You're immediately given the title of Assistant Medical Officer; not because you're necessarily a good medic but because you're the only other one around.

— Despite your skills being rough, Ratchet will hand it to you, you are a resourceful medic which is a lot more beneficial during wartime in his optics. After all, a little bit of practice can help smoothen your skills but resourcefulness comes straight out of your processor.

— The two of you mainly work together. Smokescreen watches over the sparklings as the two of you are busy patching the team up. Your presence also means that Ratchet could go to the field now but before that, Ratchet has to teach you how to operate the ground bridge.

— It's just like old times, Ratchet is teaching you how to use the command module at the console as well as ground bridge control. Since the sparklings are mainly attached to you, its best if you're not the one to get injured. But Ratchet is the more experienced medic. So you and Ratchet take turns staying at base.

— If you're injured, Ratchet is going to repair you quickly because other than you and Optimus, no one in this base knows how to get sparklings under control.

— Speaking of sparklings, Ratchet is like their stern mother. He's scolding them when they don't listen to you and urging them to obey. They're intimidated by Ratchet and they… surprisingly start listening to him. The grumpy medic is baffled himself.

— Ratchet is constantly scolding them when they do something reckless or dangerous. You do check ups on the sparklings but Ratchet also does them sometimes, mostly because he's lost practice with sparklings and should probably reeducate himself. You're teaching your teacher when it comes to sparklings and he appreciates it.

— He does not tolerate talk-back from them! Unlike Smokescreen, Ratchet knows how to use his vocalizer.

— At some point, you look into your servos and realize you're slowly turning into Ratchet after taking in those sparklings…

[redr0sewrites]

k. takami nsfw alphabet

🍊 A/n: wanted to do one of these for a long time hehe! also cannot believe this is my first time writing for hawks like,,,,

🍊 Cw: nsfw, smut, marking, phone sex, breeding kink, mutual masturbation, corruption kink, overstimulation

🍊 dividers

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

the first word that comes to mind is definitely clingy. i think that after sex, especially with someone whom he's very close with emotionally, Hawks is really desperate for physical contact and intimacy. his aftercare game is okay, he'd put in the effort, but he prefers to just relax and cuddle with you and deal with any mess in the morning. i also think he'd prefer to be pampered a bit rather than do the pampering, but if you're too tired i do think he'd take care of you too. falls asleep as close as possible to you, often crushing you.

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

i think on himself, Hawks struggles a lot with choosing a favorite, but overall i think its his hands. they're a lot softer than the rest of him, since he's always wearing gloves, and he loves that they give you so much pleasure. plus, i think he has like larger hands than most, and they're just very pretty (and he has prominent veins + a bit of hair on his knuckles urgrhrhrhr im deceased). on you, i think he's either a tummy or thighs type of guy. he likes resting on your stomach or thighs because his wings make it difficult to sleep on his back, and he also really enjoys how much your thighs and stomach tremble when you're overstimulated or about to cum. likes leaving hickeys there as well.

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

honestly he'll cum anywhere. if you're just a hookup Hawks is pretty normal about it, he'll use a condom and call it a day, but if he's in an intimate relationship with someone i think he'd really like cumming inside or on your stomach or chest. seeing his cum dripping on your body kinda soothes those weird primal bird instincts he sometimes gets- i feel like he would occasionally get super possessive about cumming on you. he also really likes how wet you get when he's already cum inside a few times and can hear soft squelches everytime he thrusts into you, thats just like an oddly specific turn on of his.

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

definitely masturbates to the thought of you, probably even before you officially get together. i don't think he's a big fan of porn, so Hawks pretty much only gets off using his imagination. has probably sneaked a few photos of you in a low cut shirt or tight shorts to use for... later purposes. the embarrassment and shame he feels about violating your privacy only turns him on more. in addition to this, Hawks has a v complicated relationship with morality and would probably get turned on by nefarious or risky acts like public sex or something of the like, simply because it would probably ruin his public image.

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

experienced in hookups, but not in intimacy, if that makes sense. like sure, Hawks has slept with people, but hasn't had many long term or romantic partners. all this to say, he's experienced with fucking, but not so much with truly making love. either way, he's talented in getting you off, but probably not talented with specific kinks or holding eye contact n stuff- at least at first.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

basic missionary, mating press, or 69ing. he likes seeing your face and reactions, especially if you're in a serious relationship. however, he's also a certified munch and loves giving head so he drabbles in that as well.

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

honestly it depends on his mood. sometimes i can see Hawks being very silly and taking it slow, probably when you're more comfortable in the relationship or are feeling especially tired or emotional. however when he's stressed or irritated he's more serious and less prone to joking around. also depends on how you respond, and if his silliness lightens the mood and makes you more comfortable, then he's damn well trying his hardest to please you.

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

amazing at manscaping. pubes are a little darker than the rest of his hair, probably curl too. he trims but doesn't shave completely, and has a really nice happy trail. probably spends a lot of time on self care,, in addition to this, he probably wouldn't care on whether or not his partner shaves, but would probably have a preference for more hair rather than none.

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

at first Hawks isn't great with intimacy but gets better as the relationship progresses. at the start he's mildly awkward and moreso pursuing pleasure than emotional connections, but once he's sure that the relationship is serious than he himself is a lot more romantic. if he truly cares for you than you best believe he's going all out- from rose petals to candlelight, he wants you to know that he cares. i also think he'd be very sweet and considerate during the deed, like even at the start of a relationship he will always make sure he isn't hurting you or making you feel uncomfortable in any way.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

does it a lot. he has a pretty high libido, and he can't be around you all the time, and while he wishes that he could sleep with you whenever he's feeling horny it can't be helped that some nights are spent with him fucking into his fist instead. like ive said before, he's not a big fan of porn and would prefer to jack off to you or photos of you. HUUGEEE on phone sex and mutual masturbation, especially when he's away on hero business, and its so hot to hear him rasping and whimpering into the speaker about how much he misses you and wishes you were there.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

starting off strong, definitely marking. loves to mark you and be marked himself. wears hickeys with pride. also big on overstim, both giving and receiving. its just super hot to him to watch you squirm, but also likes to be fucked dumb as well. mild corruption kink, especially if you're super inexperienced, because most of the time he's probably the more experienced person in any sexual relationship. likes flustering you a lot. some more include praise, especially receiving, and also sensory play, both giving and receiving

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

prefers the bedroom, but would also not mind public sex or perhaps in a cramped space. likes the risk, but it's so inconvenient, especially with his wings. also a fan of bath or hot tub sex

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

lots of things. gets really horny around spring, again, bird instincts, but most of the time it's just you simply existing that gets him going. really likes seeing you in revealing clothes, especially when you're intentionally trying to tease him. big fan of thigh highs or garters, and crop tops that show your stomach. also when you touch his wings or feathers. that is probably the quickest way to turn him on.

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

i'd say hawks is pretty experimental, but wouldn't want to do anything that he thinks would hurt you too much or make you uncomfortable. i also think he'd be ehh in terms of wax play or fire play for obvious reasons unless you really truly wanted to try it out, but other than that i think he's down for anything you would like to try. i also think he'd be against blindfolding himself or covering his eyes in general, as it reminds him of how the commission used to train him

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

giver giver giver. as much as he loves receiving, Hawks fucking LOVES to give head, he's absolutely a certified munch and whether or not you have a pussy or dick he's sucking and slurping like its his last meal. loves how you taste, loves when you grind your hips against his face and chin, loves when you cum in his mouth, loves when your thighs squeeze his head. also fucking loves facesitting. please just let him drown between your thighs...

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

honestly his pace varies. when Hawks is pissed off he tends to be a lot rougher and filthier, but he also has a really soft n gentle side too. it depends a lot on how he's feeling and how you're feeling in the moment. i do think he has a lot of stress, especially prewar!Hawks, and so that definitely leads to a lot of rough sex. i also think he likes savoring the moment though, and obviously he loves you a lot so he wouldn't want to hurt you. sure, people say he goes too fast for his own good, but he's more than willing to slow down for you.

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

loves them. any and every chance he gets, Hawks is more than willing to fuck you. overall the mixture of both risk and passion is very appealing to him, and since he's often super busy, he appreciates any sex you can hve that fits your respective schedules. fifteen minutes before an important meeting? sure, he's got time to spare- he'll sit you on his desk and eat you out/suck you off until your seeing stars with a few minutes to spare.

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

definitely big on risk, and is willing to try anything you want to try. however, a lot of his preferences depend on you rather than himself, and so he's also fine with being pretty vanilla in the bedroom as well. really likes teasing you in public or inconvenient places tho,,, half the hero community has caught you both making out at least once or twice

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

out of all the Bnha men he probably has the highest stamina. not only can he last a while, but he doesn't take long to recover after an orgasm. and, in addition to this, more often than not he's focused much more on his partners pleasure than his own so i really see him being determined to make you cum at least three times, if not more. overall he's got great stamina and he's very focused on your pleasure soo,,, A+ partner

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

probably never really thought about using toys on himself, at least until he started sleeping with you. you introduce him to a bullet vibrator and he cums so many times he's shaking n whimpering. when it comes to you, he loves using toys on you to tease you, but prefers to actually get you off using his own body. doesn't mean he won't use them, but prefers to make you cum himself. has a trusty pair of handcuffs that he uses a lot though

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

ohhh all the time. teases you both in public and in private, sometimes when he's not even horny and just for his own enjoyment. teases you a lot in the bedroom as well, and just. loves seeing you squirm. teases you a lot with his feathers too- like you'll be taking a casual stroll when all of a sudden a slim red feather is sliding under your shirt to rest against your chest,,,, how odd! i also think Hawks would tease you a lot unintentionally? like he's rubbing your thigh while he's driving or pulling you into a kiss by the neck and then wondering why you get so hot n bothered. his hand placement is peak, he's incredibly flirtatious even when he doesn't mean to be, and overall he's just. a huge tease. he's a total hypocrite though because Hawks gets soo pouty when you tease him. he's like miraculously surprisingly easy to fluster simply because he's not used to being the one on the receiving end.

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

when he's more dominant i don't think he's as vocal as when he's submissive. when he's domming i think you'll hear a lot of groans and dirty talk but overall he's relatively quiet, however when he's subbing he moans and whimpers a lot. i also think he talks a lot during sex, like he babbles about how hot you are and how good he feels even when he's more dominant

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

his wings/feathers + back are very sensitive and a huge erogenous zone ! they're also very expressive and if you watch his wings a lot, it's easy to tell when he's worked up or horny simply because of little tells he has. however they can also be ticklish sometimes, so occasionally during sex he gets a little giggly because the its both pleasurable but also. hes ticklish.

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

he's big, and very pretty. i'd say at least 7 inches, maybe 7.5 when he's hard. he's got a few prominent veins on the underside of his cock, and a very nice happy trail too. his tip is also a very nice shade of pinky brown.

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

his sex drive is pretty high, not insanely so but to the point where he tries to sleep with you at least once a week, but if you're sex drive is very low he's fine with compromising. if you're sex drive is higher than his though? you're absolutely blessed because he's more than willing to fuck wherever and whenever. a personal hc of mine is that Hawks is like especially horny during the spring... bird mating season.... so be prepared. i just think its kinda funny

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

honestly it depends on how quickly you fall asleep. if you want to clean up before going to sleep and get some aftercare done, then sure he'll stay up, but if you want to stay in bed and cuddle and leave the mess till the morning... well he's out like a light.

i love these type of hcs SO much, i have another set for shigaraki and touya on the way.... anywyss ! hope u enjoyed!! PLS SEND IN BNHA REQS RAHH

[keferon]

Mecha headquarters is attacked. The building collapses. Blurr goes in and doesn't come back out. And Swindle's the one that's got to deal with the fallout. As far as nightmare scenarios go, this is pretty high up on Swindle's list.

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

Swindle only pulls his phone out of his pocket when he reaches the shadows off to the side of where rescue crews are digging through the rubble of mecha headquarters.  Digging they only started because Blurr, the face of mecha, went into that building and didn't come out.  Digging they are only continuing because they believe they've found signs of life buried in the rock.  Which is why Swindle's phone has been buzzing nonstop for the past several minutes.

He looks at the names next to the missed calls.  Shockwave.  Shockwave again.  Pharma.  Unknown number. (Shockwave?)….  The list goes on.

Swindle doesn't know how Shockwave or Pharma knows already, but they must.  Swindle's first call since Blurr disappeared under that ton of rubble had been to emergency services.  Every call since has been to call in favors, pull strings – exert as much influence as he can to keep the details of what's going on out of the news.  To keep the potential damage this could do to a minimum.

Somehow, it hasn't been enough.  Which means this situation is fast heading towards something more than what Swindle can handle on his own.

Swindle pulls a second phone from his pocket and hits the number on speed dial.

"Hello?" A voice answers within one ring of Swindle dialing.  Onslaught.  He relaxes slightly.

"You watching the news?"  Swindle skips over customary greetings, security measures – there's no time for them now.  He knows it is Onslaught on the other end of the line.  Onslaught will recognize it is him by his voice.  That much, they still have to be able to trust.

What exactly will be on the news, Swindle doesn't know.  But, it's a safe bet that at least some of the basics of the mecha attack will be broadcast.  Beyond that, it all depends on how much Swindle's contacts came through.

"Yeah.  Mecha was attacked.  They're saying no casualties, so why are you calling me?"  Onslaught asks.

"That's all they're saying?" Swindle asks in return. "No casualties?"

"That's all.  No casualties," Onslaught confirms.  "Showed some footage of the fighting.  Pretty standard stuff.  Cut in some impressive footage of Blurr's mech.  What's going on? Not that I'm not glad to hear personal confirmation you're not dead, but this line is for emergencies."

"There is one.  Shockwave."  Swindle says the name as though there's no further justification needed for why he's calling on this line.  And really, there isn't.  They had agreed to that from the start of this venture.  "He's been calling me.  Non-stop."

Swindle thinks he hears a soft curse on the other end of the line then, "Why would he care?  What's his interest?"

"Blurr," Swindle says.  "That footage, of his mech – was the actual fight.  A fight he never should have been in.  But he did it anyways because there was no other option.  He went into the building and he never came out.  He's the reason they're still here digging – the reason I'm still here."

"And the reason Shockwave's calling," Onslaught fills in.

"Yes.  Him.  And Pharma." Swindle adds.

"Pharma is a medic, you know.  With ratchet going more or less of the grid and First Aid and Ambulon tied up with Vortex he's the highest ranked medic in mecha.  It would be his job to supervise pilot injuries."  Swindle can tell even over the line that Onslaught doesn't really believe his own words.  But they need to make sure they've covered everything if they're going to stay ahead of this.

"He shouldn't know though.  I called in favors to delay the news of Blurr's status until after excavation is complete and you said yourself the news only confirmed no casualties yet," Swindle points out. "I've sent no internal communications.  Pharma shouldn't know yet.  He's too close to Shockwave.  Neither of them should know.  But they've both been calling since the collapse – within minutes of each other."

Swindle definitely hears Onslaught swear at that.  "I don't know exactly what the connection is between Shockwave and Pharma – but I don't want Pharma – or Shockwave – anywhere near this, anywhere near Blurr," he finishes.

"Blurr's alive?"  The question is stated matter-of-factly, though Swindle wouldn't have blamed Onslaught for expressing a note of skepticism.  If the man is still alive, there's no way he's walking away from this without serious injuries.  Swindle would bet every dollar in his accounts on it.

"Possibly.  There are signs of life under the rubble.  We paid Blurr to be the part of a hero for the media.  Turns out when it mattered it wasn't entirely an act.  He saved a lot of lives today – including mine."  If Blurr is pulled from that rubble alive, Swindle will give every dollar it takes from his bank account to ensure it stays that way.  They need Blurr.  More than he knows.

"I never told Blurr the truth behind why it was so important that mecha hire him," Swindle's voice drops as he says the words.

"I am not repaying what he did today by letting him find out firsthand whatever it is Shockwave does in those labs of his.  We're not going to sit back and watch the creation of another Vortex.  It was bad enough when we didn't know.  Now…. Right now, I need you to distract Shockwave and Pharma."

"How long do you need?" As Swindle had at the beginning of their call, Onslaught skips the unnecessary validation and asks the question that gets at the point.  It has Swindle breathing a sigh of relief.

"A few hours, minimum.  But I'll take anything you can give me, just stall them as long as you can.  I've got to go."  Swindle hangs up without waiting for Onslaught's reply.  A stretcher is being carried out of the ruins towards a waiting helicopter.

Swindle manages to make it onboard just before take-off.  He rides all the way to the hospital with Blurr.  Handles all the forms.  Tells the receptionists to put the bills on his card.  He knows (hopes) Blurr could do it when the time came (the man certain has the money; Swindle's been writing his checks) – but he shouldn't have to.  All Blurr should have to focus on is his recovery, and what comes next.  Blurr should have friends, family, a partner – someone to support him in this. 

Swindle knows – has known since early on in working with Blurr – that that is not the case.  He's observed enough to see that Blurr asks for help if he truly needs it, but no one just offers it to him.  Because no one knows to.  In this case, Blurr cannot ask, so Swindle manages instead.

In an ideal world, someone would stay by Blurr's hospital bed, simply so the man didn't have to wake up alone in unfamiliar surroundings with no explanations.  But this is not an ideal world.  And Swindle is not that person.  His time runs out long before then. 

Fresh blood has been spilled.  The predators are circling.  Swindle has a show to put on.  The best he can do is leave his card on the bedside table as a reminder and hope Blurr actually calls if he needs anything. 

I. LOVE THIS. SO FUCKING MUCH YOU CANNOT EVEN IMAGINE

Absolutely in love with this conspiracy thing Onslaught and Swindle have going on. Because YES. OF COURSE. Gosh this is why I love Combaticons. They’re on their own side. Whatever system they are forced to be part of - it doesn’t have full control on them. They’re doing their own thing ehehehehhehe

[cripplecharacters]

Does Your Scarred Character Have to Hate Themself?

[large text: Does Your Scarred Character Have to Hate Themself?]

(TLDR: No.)

A frequent topic that shows up around facial differences is the self-hatred, self-disgust, self-insert-negative-emotion that we must surely experience. I want to ask* writers without FDs - why? Why do you feel about us in such a way that that's the most common way of depicting us?

*- rhetorical question. I promise I know the answer, but I'm not sure if writers do.

It's frankly worrying to me. Is it really that common to assume that disabled people have this internal, never-ending hatred for themselves? The overwhelming majority of us don't. We hate inaccessibility, when people stare, or some symptoms when they get in the way, or how expensive being disabled is, but I find the concept of us being so completely disturbed by our own disabilities extremely strange. It’s “tragedy porn” intersecting “most basic ableism”.

“But trauma!”

[large text: “But trauma!”]

Trauma of what! People with facial differences don't have some sort of default trauma that we come with like it’s a factory setting. We are a group of people with tens of thousands of stories and experiences.

“Trauma of experiencing ableism/disfiguremisia” - that's better, at least this means something. If you're writing a story about this, please get a sensitivity reader with a facial difference. You can assume how we feel all you want, but in my experience these assumptions are often bizarre and unrealistic. Or just end up writing the same “disability so sad” sob story that everyone has seen a billion times. If you want to write about disfiguremisia, you need to understand the nuance and have more than just the basic level knowledge (which 99% of people don’t have either). If you can’t do that, don’t write about it. Simple as that.

“Trauma of the accident” - thankfully, the accident is an event and a facial difference is a disability. If you want to connect these two like they're one and the same, you're almost surely going to demonize disability. People with traumatic spinal cord injuries, acquired amputees, people with TBI, people with acquired facial differences - we participate in our communities, we have hobbies, we date, we play with our dogs. Disability isn't a death sentence. Media who make it feel like it is certainly don't help people who do suddenly become disabled, don't you think?

Here's a post by @blindbeta about blind characters becoming blind through trauma that’s better made than anything I could hope to write here. I heavily recommend giving it a read.

And, I can't stress this enough - most of us didn't have “the accident”, most of us are born like this. "Traumatic scars" isn't the only facial difference that exists, far from it, it's only one of thousands. It's 99% of our representation and "representation". If you want to make a character with FD - please consider that we aren't a monolith. Just like not all physical disabilities are "wheelchair user with paralysis and somehow no other symptoms", not all facial differences are "traumatic scar with somehow no nerve damage".

The overrepresentation of it is incredibly telling, and sometimes - or very frequently - feels like the writer doesn’t actually even want to deal with us. They want to use our disability as a way to cheap drama, moral metaphors, tragic backstories. Not to represent us as living people who are much more similar to you than you apparently think.

Now, I do have enough awareness to know that that's a big part of the appeal. “Horrific Thing #2456 happens” and boom, instant drama. Of course, it's a reasonable response that they would hide their disability for years, avoid talking about it in any way, and magically change their personality to be mean and reclusive, or at least be constantly soooo sad about how much it sucks to be disabled, right?

Do I really need to say that having your character becoming disabled be the worst thing ever is ableism 101? We have been talking about this for so long at this point. Writing about the process of adapting to a specific disability is better left to people who have actual experience in it.

To give an example that will hopefully resonate more with Tumblr users, I will use the fact that I'm also gay. It's not perfect by any means but probably much more familiar territory.

Imagine, let's say, a character. He's gay. The story he's in is supposedly progressive, certainly not trying to be homophobic. The character has experienced an incident, maybe an act of aggression or a hate crime, that happened because he’s gay, which was traumatic. Happens IRL, sure. So of course the character starts hating being gay. He talks about how gross and disgusting it is, he never lets anyone know that he could be “one of them”, certainly not take a stance against homophobia. You can't mention him without mentioning the accident, they're seemingly fused together. No gay love, joy, even basic happiness, he would actually choose to be straight in a heartbeat if given the option to and complains that he can't. This is shown as a neutral, obvious thing that a gay man would do, no one comments on it. He stays like this the whole time, unless there’s a plot twist in the last 10 pages where the world is now magically perfect ("we fixed discrimination, yay!"). This is the only LGBT character in the story.

Keep in mind that there are people similar to this in real life, living with extreme internalized homophobia.

Reading comprehension quiz time: Is this, in your opinion, realistic and thoughtful representation? How does it feel when written by a cishet writer, versus a gay writer who is recalling his experiences? Do you think that it's reasonable for the majority of media representation to be like this, or very close to it? How would it affect younger gay people who might already be uncomfortable with being queer? Are gay men the target audience, or are they not even considered as a group of people who read books? Is this helping or damaging the general public's idea of how it is to be gay? Why or why not?

The Masterpiece

[large text: The Masterpiece]

From 13 to 19 of May, we are celebrating Face Equality week (what a coincidence!). It’s important to me in general - and I wish it was more important to abled people, but I digress - especially its theme for this year.

“My Face is a Masterpiece”

Great statement, it represents the community well, I do enjoy how bold it is. Very cool stuff, I love the work our advocates are doing.

But why do I bring this up?

Well, to very non-subtly show that we aren’t a self-hating group of people. We are a community, a community saying “our faces are beautiful, look!”, we are saying “treat us equally, and do it now!”. Our activism isn’t about self-disgust. It’s about fighting your-disgust. 

Why can’t writers keep up? Why are you still stuck decades behind?

Is this the only reason I bring it up?

The Call to Celebration

[large text: The Call to Celebration]

FEI, the org behind organizing it, asks a very simple question (emphasis mine):

“Why do we so often see stories about facial difference as a ‘tragedy’, when they should be about triumph?” “Calling all artists, allies, creatives, galleries.  You can rewrite the story to bring about #FaceEquality and celebrate the unique artistry found in every face. Your participation this #FaceEqualityWeek will help to tell the real story, that there is a masterpiece in every face.”

Here. We are calling for you to stop. Directly from the biggest international advocacy alliance group that's out there. If you create, this is for you.

The last argument to not have your character with a facial difference hate themselves? Because we don’t want this. We are tired and frustrated. For me personally, I’m also offended by this kind of assumption. We aren’t tragedies or cheap entertainment for abled people to pity or be horrified by. We are people, and if you can’t internalize that, you have no reason to write about us.

For once, celebrate us. Happy Face Equality Week!

mod Sasza

[kooppss]

Damage Control

Sexy Disasters With Feelings masterlist

You and Jungkook try to navigate the aftermath of last night's mistakes. But what exactly was the mistake? Chances are, both of you have different answers.

warnings: cursing, mention of alcohol, mention of sex.

word count: 3.1K

a/n: Are we even surprised it took this long? This one’s a bit shorter because I wanted to start the next chapter from a specific point. Hope you don’t get too much whiplash from Jungkook's behavior in this one. As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts, theories, and hopes for them ❤️

Baby, we both know

That the nights were mainly made

For sayin' things that you can't say tomorrow day

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

You wake up in your bed.

Alone.

At least there’s that.

For a split second, you find mercy in the silence, before the events of last night come crashing to your mind. 

Why did you do this? Are you really this stupid?

Ugh.

You yank the covers over your head, hiding from both the world and yourself.

Mortified. It's the only word that fits. But even that feels like an understatement.

Yesterday, after making the biggest mistake of the century, you hastily grabbed your clothes from the floor and rushed to the bathroom. You muttered a lame "good night" before disappearing from the living room, ignoring a naked, confused, wide-doe-eyed Jungkook sitting on the couch.

You thought you'd at least have the decency to feel bad in the moment. That you'd lie awake in bed, twisting and turning, struggling to fall asleep. But no. You slept like a fucking baby. For twelve hours, no less. Like you didn’t just fucked your roommate senseless. Like he didn’t fuck you senseless. 

What the fuck was that?

Your stomach growls.

It’s been hours since your last meal, and you're pretty sure there’s still some alcohol lingering in your system. You need food—carbs, salt, oil. Something to help absorb both the alcohol and the regret settling deep in your gut.

You push the covers off, groaning as you tilt your head back.

You really don’t want to go out, to face the consequences of your mistakes. But if you’ve learned anything from this mess, it’s that you can’t avoid it. In some way or another, it’ll come back at you. It’s better to face it head-on.

Why does it have to be a problem anyway?

It was a one-time thing.

You’re both adults that are– no, were sexually attracted to each other. And now it’s out of your system.

So, you fucked. No big deal. 

You can do this.

So what if it was the best sex you’ve had in a while? Maybe even ever...

No. No need for thoughts like that. Traitorous brain.

It was one and done.

Your stomach growls again.

What is it with it? Does it have a personal vendetta against you? Why does something as stupid as hunger have to make you face the world?

You get up from bed, grab the hoodie tossed over the chair, and pull it over your head as you shuffle to the kitchen in search of something to eat. When you enter, you’re met by Jungkook’s back as he stands near the sink, washing dishes. You can tell his shoulders are tense, his whole body stiff as he leans slightly toward the sink. He’s already dressed in his gym clothes. Probably just finished eating before heading out.

“I’m surprised you’re not avoiding me this time,” Jungkook says without turning to face you. You can’t see his face, but his tone is firm, even, cold.

No good morning? No hello? Something?

You’re still standing at the kitchen entrance, not daring to step inside. You stutter, unsure of what to say. “I–I–”

He places the bowl he just washed on the drying rack and moves to clean the next dish. He continues speaking without waiting for you to answer. “After you basically shoved me away and fled last night, I figured you’d hide in your room for at least a few days.”

He calls you a coward.

Not with words, but between the lines.

You stay silent. Stunned silent. You knew leaving like that was a shitty move, but you didn’t expect Jungkook to clock you out. To read you like that. Why does he even care? Weren’t you just another girl on his conquests list?

Jungkook places the utensils in their holder by the sink and grabs the towel to dry his hands. He sighs heavily before finally turning around to face you.

He looks at you, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, waiting for you to say something. He looks like he already knows you’re going to say some bullshit. He looks tired, resigned, impatient.

You look down, feeling your cheek heat up with shame. You were so fixated on the one mistake you made last night that you didn’t even think about the other one. You’re so caught up in running from your problem that you don’t even notice you’re creating new ones.

“I’m sorry. For leaving,” you say quietly.

You hear Jungkook sigh again, and you look up. He pushes his hair back, leaving his fingers tangled in it for a moment. His features are softer now, less harsh than before.

“Why did you leave like that?” he asks quietly, looking down before meeting your gaze again.

You don’t have an answer. What can you tell him? That you couldn’t handle the mistake? That he was that good, you started to wonder what else he could do to you? He won’t let you forget, and you can’t make the same mistake twice.

“I was tired.” You can’t look at him as you lie. It’s not a complete lie, but it’s far from the truth. You both know it.

“Tired?” Jungkook repeats, and you can hear the doubt in his voice. But his tone isn’t angry—it’s sad.

You hum softly and nod. It’s a cowardly answer, a way to escape the truth, but you don’t have the courage to face it right now.

“Okay,” he says evenly, running a hand through his hair again.

You hate this. You hate the weird silence, the uncomfortable tension between you two. Yesterday felt so easy, so fun. Why did it have to be ruined?

“I didn’t want you to ask me to give you back my Squirtle.” It’s a weak attempt to break the awkwardness. You know it, but you have to try.

Jungkook chuckles quietly. His laugh is hollow, lacking its usual warmth, but you can see he’s also trying.

“I would never. Squirtle is yours.”

“Good, because I wouldn’t give it back even if you asked,” you reply, trying to tease. He chuckles again, still stiff, but the air between you two starts to loosen.

“Maybe we can continue the conquest sometime?” you add carefully, not wanting to push too much.

He gives you a tight-lipped smile. “Sure.”

“I—I need to go to the gym now,” he says, stepping forward and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh. Yeah, sure.” You step aside from the kitchen door, letting him pass.

He gives you a small nod of goodbye as he walks past you.

As he’s almost at the door, you call after him, “Jungkook.”

He turns around, looking at you.

“We’re good?” you ask, the uncertainty still hanging in the air.

“Always,” he says with a smile, then leaves.

You head back to the kitchen, searching for something to eat. At the back of the freezer, you find a frozen bagel and toss it in the toaster, then cook yourself some bacon and eggs. You make a sandwich and take a bite. It helps tremendously with your tired body, but does nothing to ease the weird feeling the talk with Jungkook has left. Your phone buzzes on the table, snapping you out of your thoughts.

[14:03 pm] Sienna my 💖: where are my girlssss

[14:03 pm] Sienna my 💖: wanna meet??

Should you tell your friends what happened last night? You’re itching to spill it all out, but you don’t want to talk about it. You already know what they’ll say. You know it was a mistake. And you definitely don’t want them to get the wrong idea about you and Jungkook.

The phone continues to vibrate with messages as you contemplate what to do. You decide not to decide. You’ll see how you feel when you meet them. You grab your phone and enter the group chat.

[14:04 pm] HanniBoo 🐞: <sent a photo>

[14:04 pm] HanniBoo 🐞: lunch with my man ♥️

[14:05 pm] HanniBoo 🐞: I’m downnnnn

[14:05 pm] HanniBoo 🐞: but later? 

[14:05 pm] Sienna my 💖: my favorite couple 😍

[14:07 pm] You: youre so cute im gonna die 🥹

[14:07 pm] You: yeah

[14:07 pm] You: but lets do something chill?

[14:08 pm] Sienna my 💖: dinner at my place?

[14:08 pm] You: 👍

[14:10 pm] HanniBoo 🐞: 👍

[14:12 pm] Sienna my 💖: see u later 😘😘

Yesterday was a dream.

Spending time with you like that, joking around, it felt natural, easy. Jungkook feels like he can act more like himself around you, drop the cocky mask he wears around other girls. It’s an effective front, but with you, he doesn’t feel the need for it. And that should scare the shit out of him, because only a few people know that side of him. But it doesn’t. It’s fun. It makes him feel warm, happy, light—without all the layers. He doesn’t even know how you manage to bring this side of him out.

It isn’t even about the sex.

Even though it was fucking amazing. The moment he was inside you, he knew he was in trouble. He knew he’d miss it the moment he had to leave you. Everything about you was perfect for him.

Yesterday was a dream.

Until it wasn’t.

Why did you leave like that? He was about to ask if you wanted to sleep in his room—or yours. He felt like a fool. So stupid. So small. After he let his guard down like that, after he allowed himself to be more real with you, and that was your reaction?

Fuck. 

Wasn’t he good enough? 

‘Fuck you out of his system?’ Pffff. 

How stupid was he? 

It’s just making him want you more.

When he hears you enter the kitchen, his body tenses. He uses every bit of his willpower not to turn around, not to grab you and ask, why?

He didn’t expect to see you at all. He’d planned to finish his pre-workout meal and leave as quickly as possible. He needs to go to the gym, clear his mind, maybe talk with Jimin about it. He needs more time to think, to process what happened, to figure out how he feels. He doesn’t want to talk to you when he’s this messed up.

But as you step into the kitchen, he knows he’s mad.

Mad at you for leaving him like that.

Mad at you for making it more than just sex.

Mad at how you make him feel.

Yet, when he turns to face you, he realizes he isn’t mad at all.

At the sight of the shame on your face, the slight blush creeping to your cheeks, he knows he’s not mad. 

He’s in trouble. Because all he wants is to close the gap and hold you. To tell you he’ll never be upset with you. 

That yesterday was a dream.

Until it wasn’t.

He needs to get out of there, to collect himself.

He can’t hold you. Can’t let his feelings loose around you.

You made it clear this isn’t what you want. Alas, why would you leave like that?

But when you ask him if you two are good, he can’t bring himself to say no.

Because he knows he’ll take whatever you are willing to give him.

“I’m home,” you call out as you come back from dinner with the girls.

You don’t see Jungkook right away, but you hear noises and see his keys on the table by the door, so you know he’s here. You head over to the couch, scrolling on your phone.

When you hear him step out of the kitchen, you look up at him.

And you hate how effortlessly good he looks. He’s in his usual uniform—black sweatpants and an oversized shirt. His hair is still a little damp from the shower he probably took recently, and a clean scent drifts through the living room.

When he sees you sitting on the couch, you catch the surprise flicker across his features. Like he didn’t expect you to be here. Like you don’t live here too?!

But then, as he sits next to you, his expression shifts into a smug smirk.

He grabs the controller from the coffee table and scrolls through his game library with one hand, while his other hand casually settles on your thigh, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Want to continue Pokémon?”

You look at the hand on your thigh.

Big, warm, confident—his hand slightly gripping your thigh.

Nope.

You swat his hand away a few seconds too late. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“What?” he asks casually, not even bothering to look at you.

“Want to start a new game?” he continues, as if nothing happened.

And here you thought you needed to clear the air, to make sure whatever weird vibes lingered from your morning conversation were gone. But as Jungkook continues to stare at the screen, acting like nothing happened, you realize you need to have a completely different conversation.

“You know that what happened last night was a one-time thing, right?”

You watch as he freezes for a second, his finger halting on the joystick.

He turns to look at you, a cocky smirk playing on his face.

“Sure.” His tone drips with condescension and amusement.

And then, without missing a beat, he turns back to the screen.

Ughhh. He’s so annoying. You know it was the stupidest mistake of your life.

“Jungkook,” you say sternly. “I’m serious.”

“Of course.” He doesn’t even bother to look at you this time—just keeps scrolling through the game store.  

What did you expect? Of course, this is how he’ll act.

You need him to understand that this was a one-time slip-up, that whatever is going on isn’t a thing, that it was over last night—and that it wasn’t even supposed to happen in the first place.

“This is never happening again,” you continue, even though it’s clear he’s already checked out of the conversation.

“Huh.” He doesn’t even bother with an actual response this time. “I heard this Supermarket simulator is really good. Wanna give it a try?”

What the fuck is he on about?! You could murder him, you swear.

“Jungkook!” you snap, way too loud. But you can’t hold it anymore; he’s driving you insane.

He slowly sets the controller on his lap and turns his body toward you.

“What?” His tone is innocent, but the cockiness oozing from his whole being says otherwise.

“Were you even listening to what I said?” you shoot back.

“Yep,” he says, popping the ‘p’ like a child. “One-time thing. Won’t ever happen again. Understood.” He finishes with a little nod. You might have thought he was genuine—if you didn’t know him better.

You feel like you’re about to lose it. This man is driving you insane. Your face is getting hot, and you exhale sharply through your nose, trying to hold it together.

“What are you so worked up about?” he asks, almost chuckling. “You wanna talk about what happened?”

“No, I don’t want to talk about it!” you snap, your voice louder than you intend. You probably sound a little crazy, but it’s not your fault. He’s making you lose your mind. “I want you to understand what I’m saying.” You try to sound serious, fighting to calm yourself down. You don’t want to lose it completely.

“I understand,” he says, flashing that pleased smile like this is some sort of game.

“You don’t seem to understand by how you're acting!” Shit. You’re about to explode.

“How am I acting?” he asks, pretending he has no clue what you want. “What do you want me to do? You said we won’t fuck again, and I said okay. What more do you need? Want me to pinky promise? Want me to cut off my dick?” 

Fucking infuriating, stupid, annoying, unbelievably childish Jungkook. “We need to talk about what happened.”

He smirks. Why the fuck he smirks? 

“You said you didn’t want to talk about it,” he says smugly.

He’s pushing you to the edge of your patience. “Well, apparently we need to, because you just have to act like a dick.”

"Okay. What do you want to talk about? How it was the best orgasm of your life, and you're still saying we won’t do it again?" He speaks evenly, but you see the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Jungkook!”

“What?” he smirks, clearly enjoying scandalizing you.

He continues, still smiling. “Wanna talk about how I saw your legs wiggle even though you tried to ru—” “Okay, I get it. It was good, yeah. That’s not the point,” you cut him off quickly. “Good??” He scoffs. “So, what’s the point?” “I just want to make sure things aren’t weird between us.” You try to explain. Tired from this annoying back and forth. “Why would they be weird?” He asks, genuinely not getting it.

What’s there not to get? How can you explain this to him? You try to explain, stating the obvious. “Because we fucked?” 

“Yes?” He says it like both a question and a statement, a touch of content smugness lacing his tone.

“And we live together?” You drag the words out, as if you’re explaining it to a toddler.

He opens his eyes wide and scrunches his brows, looking at you like you’ve just said the most tupid shit ever. 

You can’t with him.

“I just don’t want things to be weird around here!” You yell at him, throwing your hands up in exasperation, trying to emphasize what you’re saying, and he’s still refusing to understand.

Jungkook leans back, crossing his arms over his chest, that easy smile still on his face. “You’re the one making things weird. I said I understand.”

He smirks, looking away from you. 

You know he’s about to say something stupid.

“Maybe you don’t really want it to be a one-time thing.”

You’re seething by now. “Jungkook, I swear I’m gonna kill–”

“Geez, relax. I’m kidding. I get it.” He stops you before you can complete the sentence. “No weird vibes, okay?”

“Okay.” You agree, not because you believe it, but because what more can you say?

“So, Supermarket simulator?” he asks, grinning from ear to ear.

a/n2: I highly recommend the Supermarket Simulator. 10/10 game.

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