#and i'm going to make it everyone's problem

[bluegiragi]

I don't want to sound rude, you may have already answered this question (if so, I'm sorry, I didn't find that answer), but I'm wondering why you're so against AI bots specificly. Obviously, this is a personal matter for everyone, but I'm a little confused by such harshness. Of course, I'm not going to prove anything to anyone, but I just wanted to understand the roots of your position. I really like your work, but to be honest, your last answers have thrown me into a kind of stupor :(

i have an ideological opposition against AI as a whole to be fair. a lot of it comes down to it's environmental impact

Globally, AI-related infrastructure may soon consume six times more water than Denmark, a country of 6 million, according to one estimate. That is a problem when a quarter of humanity already lacks access to clean water and sanitation.  

but i also believe it's inherently anti-human.

In a time when global literacy rates are diving (did you know that half of american adults read at a 6th grade level or below?) , I think it's incredibly short-sighted to be essentially surrendering your ability to write your own emails/essays/messages to an AI, when doing it yourself, despite what online contrarians will say, does have value (emails teach you how to communicate professionally, messages improve your social skills, essays improve your critical thinking skills). In this political landscape, it also feels dangerous to have your ability to read critically by yourself get dampened by AIs which are, at the end of the day, owned by silicon valley billionaires many of whom attended trump's inauguration, which is a good indication of where they lie politically.

Generative AI when it comes to art is also killing culture, removing opportunities for existing artists who are the ones who can extend the ceiling for human creation and helping society devalue art even more even though it's the only thing keeping us all sane. How would you feel if all you had in your life was just school or work, leaving out music, movies, tv shows, books, art? Doesn't art bring enough value to your life that it's worth properly compensating the people responsible for it? Why should we ever encourage or normalise throwing art into a meat grinder and feeding on the approximated soulless sludge it generates?

For AI chat bots, my beef with it is that it's an inherently anti-social product. All it does is remove the need to ever communicate with another person, which is horrible for people's brains. Some people are "falling in love" with their ai chatbot, some people are using their ai chatbots as therapists. The desire for real human connection is getting lost. An AI chatbot also makes RP obsolete, which is a foundational part of fandom which, i always feel like i need to remind people, is based on community. The point is to connect with people! I just fear that the popularisation and normalisation of this technology is going to end up with people shut in their homes their entire life, lost to whatever toxic pipeline their anti-social behaviour inevitably leads them down.

i know people love to play with AI like it's a fad, and it's "not that deep bro" but i think it's shameful and embarrassing to act as if you don't have agency in your life. You can choose to abstain from technology, you can choose to find entertainment elsewhere, you can choose to be a person independent of technology. If all AI went away tomorrow, would you be able to still do your job? Write a story? Read a book and understand its meaning? AI is a product built on instant gratification and entitlement - not to get too deep on an ask about AI chatbots, but i think art, relationships, culture, all of it is worth the journey to get there.

[kilojulietsierra]

Just In Case (Dr Jack Abbot x FemaleResident!Reader)

Summary: He had given Robby so much shit about Collins. "Really brother? One of your residents?" Then you had put in a request to move to the night shift and Robby had fucking signed off on it.

Warning: all my content is considered 18+ only, smut, age gap unspecified, reader is one of Jacks resident, fluff, smut, angst, happy ending, as always barely proofread or edited plz forgive me

A quick note: I know I promised this forever ago, but I'll be completely honest, this is NOT the story I started out to write! But holy fuck it took over with a mind of it's own and I really love the way it turned out so I hope y'll do too!! also, again, shout-out to the gif creater above because this one's still my fav

ENJOY!

~~~~~

He had given Robby so much shit about Collins. "Really brother? One of your residents?"

Then you had put in a request to move to the night shift and Robby had fucking signed off on it.

Jack liked you from the jump. Smart, witty, a little dark like he was and not afraid to jump into the chaos with no need to know how deep. You had fit right in on his shift and for a long time you were just his best resident. His BEST, fucking resident, because God you were good. Every trauma, every code, every shitty shift you were right there doing the work and it was clear you loved all of it.

Jack had asked Robby one morning, "So, what's the deal? Why'd you let her go? You usually like to keep the star pupils to yourself."

Robby had just made that face at him, that annoying one with the shrug. "Thought I'd make her your problem for awhile."

Then the next night Jack had to split up you and the R4 in the middle of the hub. "What in the actual fuck are you two doing?" His presence had been enough to put some distance between the both of you, but you were pissed and the R4 was not letting it go.

"She walked all over my case."

"Because you were fucking it up! That girl did not have time to wait, and I told you that three times."

"And I told you to stay in your lane, I'm your senior resident."

"You are a dipshit, that was going to kill that girl by lack of action."

"Enough." Jack didn't yell. He didn't need to. He stood, hands clasped behind his back, face hard and waited.

"Dr. Abbot, she has authority issues, and it's interfering with her patient care and everyone elses."

"I don't have an issue with authority," If looks could kill the R4 would have dropped dead. Then you turned that look on him and it didn't have the venom in it, but the fight was there, that unwavering confidence, "I have a problem with misplaced authority."

Jack had held your gaze as you'd said it then nodded. He'd sent you both on your separate ways and excused himself to the bathroom where he took a leak and then stood with his hands braced on the sink as he stared himself down in the mirror. "What the fuck?" He whispered to himself as he rocked side to side and shook his head at his own reflection. He should've been annoyed at you two, not himself, but something about that look you had given him. It was like it had flipped some sort of switch. Like suddenly you weren't just his best resident, you were also…

The bathroom door swung open, "Dr. Abbot, we have a code blue coming in, ETA 5 minutes."

He nodded, "Set up trauma two."

Every shift after that he caught himself thinking things he should not be thinking about his resident. Yes you were his best resident, talented and dedicated, but you were also gorgeous. Not that he had never noticed, but now it was something he couldn't help but pay attention to. In between patients, when you passed by him or stood a little too close, he felt his pulse quicken. He couldn't help but watch you a little closer, the way you were so soft and calm with nervous patients, the way you didn't take shit from the combative ones. The confidence you had in your abilities and the drive you had to be better.

Your eyes. Those beautiful fucking eyes that never shied away from him. Your smile. Not big and bright or soft or sweet. No, the one that drove him fucking crazy? That was the tiny one, the barely there tick of your lips, up to one side before you could fight it back. That one was his favorite, because it felt like he had to earn that one. Like he had done something, just enough, to get you to crack. Like there was something you were trying to keep to yourself and if he said the right thing, did the right thing, you'd show him what it was.

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

It had been a long night. A long week. Jack had gone up for some air and some quiet. He had his back leaned against the railing and hands in his pockets, eyes trained on the horizon.

The access door opened and he furrowed his brow. Robby wasn't working today.

When he looked over his shoulder the last person he had expected to see was you, just standing there with one of your easy smiles. "Need me, you could have called."

You just shrugged as you came closer. "Don't need anything, Day shift is trickling in." You came to lean next to him. Close enough to touch. "You good boss?"

Jack glanced sideways at you. Your hair was falling down, eyes tired, smile careful. He had to fight the urge to lean towards you, close that distance just to touch, even if it was just your shoulder against his. He shook his head, "Just one of those nights. You good?"

You nodded, leaned over the railing carefully to look down, "Do you actually think about it? When you come up here or is it just... a thing you do?"

He's not sure he would have been more surpised if you had slapped him. He looked at you long and hard. When you didn't flinch, didn't shy away, he shrugged. "Depends on the day." Jack cracks a little smirk for you, to ease the tension.

You smile back at him, unphased, as you stood up a little straighter. His eyes track your every move as you lean across the railing.

Jack had been wrong when he thought he couldn't be more surprised if you'd slapped him. Becuase the last thing he would have ever expected was that you would lean across the railing and kiss him.

It wasn't anything crazy. A quick brush of your lips over his. Not long enough. When you didn't pull back all the way he watched you close. Studied you. "Just in case." You shrugged as you finally stepped back.

You were about to turn and leave when he asked, "In case what?"

You gave him another smile, this time with something in your eyes that you didn't try to hide from him as the sun crept up over the skyline. "In case tonight was one of those nights."

It wasn't. It was one of those nights, but not one of THOSE nights. Jack liked that it hadn't been some big thing. Quick and light. He liked that you hadn't hesitated. He liked that if it had been one of those nights, you thought a kiss would have changed something. It changed everything.

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

"You know, the park beers is really more of a day shift thing."

You turned to the side and inwardly scolded yourself for not hearing him approach. "No beer." You shrugged but didn't offer up anything else.

Jack took another step closer, "Thinkin' about that kid?" He shrugged his backpack up higher and waited for your response.

You looked him over and even after the night you'd had, you had to fight back a smile because he looked good. This was your favorite version of Dr. Jack Abbot. Cargo pants, hair a mess and he'd pulled his scrub top off at some point and had worked the last couple hours in just atight, black t-shirt. You took a deep breath, "You goin' to tell me I did everything I could?"

He shook his head, "You already know that."

You nodded, "Yep."

"C'mon, I'll give you a ride home."

"Why?" You looked up at him, skeptical.

The grin he gave you washed all that away, "Just in case."

You thought maybe it would be awkward, letting Jack drive you home after what you'd done on the roof four shifts ago. It wasn't. Then when he had pulled up in front of your building, you thought for sure it would be awkward, but it wasn't. He just put the truck in park and tipped his head to catch your eye, "Go get some sleep okay." When you didn't move right away, he gave you a little nod, "I'll see you tomorrow."

You felt sick to your stomach suddenly, like you had been very wrong. "Jack…If I…"

He draped his wrist over the steering wheel and his eyes were soft, "Tomorrows a new day."

"Get that from Robby?" you tried to swallow down the bile in your throat, force a smile.

Jack shrugged, gave you a smirk. "Maybe. I mean it, get some sleep."

You had started to climb out of the truck, but your hand paused on the handle. You were always something of a go big or go home kind of girl. So, you turned back, leaned across the console and didn't give yourself or Jack the chance to think twice. You kissed him again. More than a quick peck this time and the air rushed out of your lungs when his lips moved with yours, slow and steady.

You were about to pull back when you felt the hand that had been draped over the steering wheel cradle the back of your head and keep you there.

When Jack did eventually let you pull away his eyes locked onto yours. "What was that for?"

You whispered, scared to get your hopes up, "Just in case I don't get another chance."

He dropped his head back against the headrest and held your gaze, "If I promise you'll get another chance, will you go upstairs and get some rest?" When you nodded he cracked a little smile, "I'll see you tomorrow."

~~~~~~

Giving you a ride home became a thing, not after every shift but more and more.

It felt like you both just craved that little bit of time alone, together. It wasn't even something seedy or scandalous, he would just... drive you home.

Sometimes you'd kiss him, sometimes he'd reach out for your hand and hold it the whole way to your apartment. At some point it turned into drive thru coffee. He didn't just pull up out front anymore, he'd park in a spot and you would talk.

Jack told you about his wife first. The broken part of him figured; get the rough stuff out of the way first. If you were going to change your mind that would do it, and he'd rather deal with it sooner than later. He told you and you had just held his hand, your thumb working circles over his palm with tears in your eyes. "I don't have the words Jack, God I wish I did..."

He didn't need you to have the words. The look in your eyes unwavering and the grip on his hand was enough. He had just shaken his head, throat still hoarse and had lifted the back of your hands to his lips. That was enough.

He told you about his leg. You never flinched once and this time it was him that stroked his thumb over your palm. Back and forth, where they rested together on the console. You had just leaned forward, held his gaze and told him it made him more of a man.

He told you about his PTSD, explained his little visits to the roof, told you about his therapist. You said you were proud of him, and leaned over to kiss him and steal the last bagel bite out of his lap. Jack had grinned, watched the way your face lit up to see it, even if your eyes were a little misty. "I want to tell him about you..." Jack waited, watched you like his life depended on it. Because, even then he knew this couldn't be casual, not for him, and if it was real he was going to do it right.

You had laughed and he panicked for half a second before you leaned in to kiss him again. "You mean, we've been working together this long and you haven't already complained about me to your therapist?"

He laughed, and God it felt like a gulp of air. He sank his hand into your hair and slammed your mouth to his. Kissed you like you'd never been kissed before.

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

The morning you had whispered, "Come upstairs?" He'd thought he might combust then and there. He had searched your eyes. Those gorgeous fucking eyes that never wavered under his. He'd never forget the pretty way you bit your lip, or the way your eyes flashed with something he hadn't seen yet when he gave you one more quick kiss and turned off his truck.

Any lingering thought or rationalization that you could be something casual went out the fucking window the moment you let him press you up against the inside of your apartment door and kiss you the way he'd been wanting to for months.

The way you gasped and moaned so pretty for him when he pinned your wrists over your head with one hand and slipped the other inside your scrub pants. "Jesus Christ sweetheart..." He murmured into your ear when he felt how hot and wet you were for him.

"Jack," Your eyes fluttered closed as he eased the first, thick finger inside you, "Shit." You fidgeted, tried to chase his hand with your hips, but you didn't fight his hold on your wrists or the way he pressed you into the hard surface. You groaned, showed your teeth in something between a smile and a snarl as he gave you a second finger, but did not change his rythym.

He kept his strokes slow, steady, deep. Kissed every part of you he could reach at this angle. Your neck, the hollow of your throat the shell of your ear, before always returning to your mouth. "Feel good?"

You nodded, frantic, gave him an airy, 'Mhmm."

"Yeah?" He mouthed at the soft spot just below your ear as he finally sped up his movements and felt the way your pussy quivered and clenched around his fingers. Jack smiled as he moved up to rest his forhead against yours, "Yeah..." He answered himself as he studied your face, felt the warm puffs of air as you panted and gasped, his palm resting over your clit as he drove his fingers deeper.

"Oh shit, shit," Your words cut off with a groan as he pressed against the little bundle of nerves harder.

"Yeah?" He licked his lips and fought back a smirk as he kissed you softly, pulled his fingers out and circled them over your clit. Firmer, faster. "Going to cum for me already, aren't you sweetheart?"

"Yeah." You chased after his kiss like you needed it to breathe, your weight sinking into his hand begging for more.

Eyes locked on yours, foreheads together he gave you a little nod, "Yeah, go ahead," He sped up the circling of his fingers until both of you were breathing heavy, "Go ahead, sweetheart, go ahead."

When your eyes fluttered and rolled back Jack didn't stop, only pressed you harder into the door and kissed you in the most unholy way as you came apart for him.

Slowly as you can back down he eased off the pressure of his fingers, slipped them back inside of you and relished in the little convulsions he felt as he gave you long, slow, steady strokes. He teased at your lips, kissing and nipping until you giggled and he finally released your hands from above your head. "Good girl." He whispered as he gave you a final kiss and pulled back.

The look in your eyes told him this probably couldn't be casual for you either.

You laughed when he ducked, lifted you up by the thighs and carried you towards your bedroom.

"Don't laugh, I'm not that old." He chuckled with you into the hollow of your throat. A chuckle that turned into a groan when you carded your fingers into his already messy curls and tugged.

He had laid you down on the bed and stripped you naked as fast as possible. Desperate to get his hands, his mouth on every inch of you until you whined his name and fisted your hand in the back of his scrub top.

Jack smiled against your hip, "What?"

"Off."

"What?" He asked again as he sucked a little bruise into the smooth skin before him.

You groaned, half annoyed and half giddy, and shoved at him until he looked you in the eyes, "Take your fucking shirt off."

He chuckled, gave you a grin and rose up to his knees so he could reach behind him and pull his scrub top and undershirt off in one go. Jack couldn't help but take that half a second, to watch you hum happily and chew on your lip, to let it stroke his ego, before he buried his face between your legs.

~~~~~~

He had put it off as long as he could, shoved the thought aside and focused all of his attention on you. But, eventually, you had pulled and clawed at him until he crawled over you to cover your body with his and kiss you properly again. Jack let you take some of his weight as he kissed you, soaked in the warmth and the feel of you under him.

He knew he'd have to take his pants off, that the prosthesis would be some sort of jarring reminder and this would all be over.

He focused on your hands and how fucking good if felt as you stroked up the muscles of his back, hooked your fingers over his shoulders and pulled him closer. The way your fingertips skimmed over his arms, squeezing his biceps and smiling under his kisses like you enjoyed the way he felt. It had almost been involuntary. The jerk of his hips when you had skated your nails low over his sides, too low, too close to the waistband of his boxers where the band peeked up over the top of his pants. The way he had rolled his hips against yours and gave you a hint of just how badly he wanted you.

You made that happy little humming sound again and stroked your hands up over his back and down again. FIngertips leaving little divots under them as they moved. "Jack," Your voice was soft, airy and tight, "Am I gonna have to tell you to take your pants off too?" You fought for his eye contact and for the first time he couldn't give it to you.

Jack buried his face in your neck and kissed over your pulse, whispered his answer there instead, "Sweetheart," He breathed deep and Jesus you smelled like sex and sweat and soap and everything good in this world. "Only way this really works, is if I take the leg off." He waited. Expected the worst.

When you tugged on his hair he caved, lifted his head and looked you in the eye. You held his gaze and opened your eyes wide like you were about to make a point and wanted it to land, "Then take the fucking leg off," You cracked a smile, "Or I'm going to do it, and I have no clue how it works so..."

Jack fucking loved you. He knew he loved you, because he had said the first thing that came to mind, "Want me to show you?" With a chuckle and a nod you kissed him and with no hesitation answered, "Yeah, kinda."

So, as awkward and unsexy as it was, he showed you.

He showed you how the mechanism worked, grinned at you and shook his head as you tried to pull it off the first time. He'd turned an embarrassing shade of pink when he'd warned you, "It's not going to smell good. You know that right?"

You had scoffed, rolled your eyes at him. "I'm a doctor. I'm sure I can handle it."

Jack couldn't remember the last time he had laughed this hard. Especially not in bed, with a sexy, young woman, where ten minutes ago the only thing on his mind had been fucking your brains out. Now, you were collapsed on his chest and cackling uncontrollably with his prosthetic leg in one hand dangling off the side of the bed. All he could do was cradle the back of your head and try to catch his breath, because even as you were laughing, you were peppering kisses over his chest and he swore that if this didn't scare you away he would never let you go.

When you caught your breath and sat up, you set his prosthesis down by the nightstand and leaned in to give him a quick kiss. "Now, take your pants off."

His eyes followed you as you crawled off the bed and walked naked to the bathroom. He tried to fight down the nerves as he did shuck his other shoe, sock and his scrub pants off, then pushed himself up to lean against your headboard. He listened to a cupboard open and close, water run. When you reentered the room and tossed a bath towel on the bed and crawled back to him with a warm, soapy rag in your hand he furrowed his brow.

"I fucking dare you to make one sponge bath joke. I swear to God." You didn't hesitate as you knelt in front of him and began to run the rag over what remained of his lower leg. Your fingers massaging the aching muscles as you went.

All Jack could do was shake his head side to side as he let his eyes fall closed and his body sink deeper into your pillows.

~~~~~

Jack hadn't meant to zone out, but Christ it had felt too good. Your soft, capable hands working over the tension in his leg after a long shift. The relief it brought, physical and mental, was unbelievable. He barely noticed you had stopped until you had moved to straddle his lap and kiss up the side of his neck.

"Fall asleep on me?"

He chuckled, "Almost." and wrapped his arms around your waist to drag you closer.

"Feel good?" You copied his question from earlier, whispered it against throat.

"Too fucking good." His cock had softened some from the relaxation, but when he pulled you down to settle against him fully he could feel himself harden by the second. "You're too fucking good for me." He caressed from your knees, over your thighs, up your waist and ribcage, until his fingers traced over the line of your arms where they had wrapped around his neck.

"Don't say that." You kissed him, deep, and rolled your hips over him. Whined a little that his boxer briefs still kept you seperated from what you both wanted. The whine turned into a squeal as he flipped you over without warning, Put you on your back like you had started.

Jack hovered over you braced on strong arms. "You still want this?" He rocked his hips into yours and searched your eyes. He could see that you knew what he meant. Not just this, not just the moment, not just sex. Him. HIs past, his baggage, all the complications that a relationship with your attending would bring.

"Yes. All of it." You looked him in the eye and smiled. Cute and sweet. Drastically at odds with the way your hands were shoving his underwear down over his hips.

Then he watched those pretty eyes roll back in your head, because he wasn't going to waste another second not knowing what it felt like to be inside you.

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

Jack had panicked the first time he'd said he loved you.

He'd thought it from the start, but it had always felt to soon, too real, too say it out loud. To risk it.

Then he had woken up late one afternoon, after a restless few hours of sleep and you weren't in bed beside him. His mind, already primed for the worst case scenario after a long week, worried that you'd finally had enough. That he'd scared you away and you'd snuck off while he was asleep but, then he'd found you in the kitchen.

He paused at the corner and breathed deep as he watched you. Your back turned to him, in some t-shirt of his you'd dug out of a drawer to sleep in, hair tosseled from sleep. You were glaring at the coffee maker, arms crossed and swaying side to side, as if you could force the machine into expedience. He could feel the anxiety seep out of him as he watched you. Made his way to you.

"Where are your crutches?" Was how you greeted him, your voice rough and exhausted like him.

Jack just slid his arms around you waist and kissed the back of your head. Relished the feel of you sinking more of your weight back into him. "Bedroom." He shifted to place a kiss closer to your neck.

"Ja-ack"

"Wha-at?" He copied your tone and squeezed you tighter. He liked that you worried. With one hand he swept your hair to the side so he could kiss your neck and chuckled against it when you groaned. Annoyed, not aroused. "Been gettin' around just fine for over a decade baby."

You had grumbled, rolled your eyes, but leaned into him and smoothed your hands over his forearms, your thumbs traced the furrows in the muscle. "I know."

The coffee maker beeped, but you made no move to reach for a cup. Jack liked that you worried. He liked that you took up space in his home, in his life. He liked that you'd taken over half his bathroom, that his sheets smelled like you, that your car had a spot in his garage. He liked that you'd started teasing him about trying to get out of your lease as much time as you spent at his house. Hell, he'd pay off your fucking lease if it meant he could have you here, with him, all the time.

He wrapped his arms around you impossibly tighter and squeezed, smiled at the content little hum you let you and the way your head dropped back against his shoulder. His lips pressed against your temple, barely a kiss, "I love you."

There was no shocked expression on your face, no teary eyes, or fumbling words. Just that little smile, that ticked up in one corner, the one that he'd loved from the start. "I've been patiently waiting, but you were starting to make me nervous." You stood up and turned around in his arms. Smile wider as you wrapped your arms around his neck and your eyes flickered when he tightened his grip on your waist again. Locked you against him, arms flexing the way you always liked. Your lips brushed his briefly and then you pulled back to look him in the eye, "I love you too."

Saying it, finally, felt amazing. Like a weight off of his chest.

Hearing you say it, knowing that you meant it... felt like CPR, something bringing a piece of him back to life.

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

The two of you had mismatched shifts all week because you had covered some days for Cassie while she had court. So, if you saw eachother it was only in passing, at home or at the hospital. This would be your last shift on days before a weekend off and you would be back on nights, with Jack. Where you belonged.

Jack caught a glimpse of you as he walked in, but continued towards the hub where Robby was already packing up his bag like he was in a hurry.

"Hey brother, sorry but I got a thing, I got to run." Robby picked up his bag and met Jack at the corner of the station. "Your girl is goin' to do the handoff." He gave his friend a smug look as he held his fist out.

Jack scoffed, gave Robby the first bump, but gave him a shove with it. "Don't do that, and don't act like I don't know what your 'thing' is." Jack stared him down, "Let me know how it goes."

Robby nodded, "Yeah, I will. Have a good night man."

Lena and Dana looked up at Jack in unison as he dropped his bag into the chair and together they said, "She's in fifteen."

Jack scowled at the two of them, "Why are you all like this?"

Lena just chuckled and ducked out to get to work. Dana grabbed her jacket and wrapped her hand around Jacks arm, "Just a heads up, someone, I won't name names, has been hounding her all day. Playin' twenty questions about Dr. Abbot, so… she might be a little salty."

With a deep breath he shook his head and draped his stethoscope around his neck.

Dana chuckled, "She doesn't know… so, it's harmless. Just watch your step with your girl. she's had a long one." She grabbed her bag and paused as she moved to step around him, "For what it's worth, the sooner you start wearing a wedding around here again the better for all of us I think." She gave him a wink.

Jack leaned down just enough they were eye to eye. "Dana… go home."

She gave him a smile and a wink, smiled a little wider when his scowl cracked, "Fifteen."

Which is exactly where he found you, right outside the room typing on one of the portable stations.

Work had always been work and honestly he loved you even more for that, because there was something sexy about the fact that you had the self control to keep home and work seperate. Most of the time. You were still his best resident, by far, and now his senior resident. It was fun for him to see you thrive with that responsibility. It was also fun for him to occasionally toe that line, get that little rise out of you that he'd pay for later.

Today, he felt like pushing that boundary. So, he took a quick glance around before he stepped up close, bumped your shoulder with his and tipped his head to whisper.

"Think carefully about what you're about to say, Dr. Abbot."

He bit back a smirk, definitly feisty tonight. "Ready to come back to nights?" He leaned a little closer than necessary and dropped his voice, "Where you belong."

You continued to type, never even looked at him, "What's it worth to you?"

"How about you finish up here, go get some rest, and I'll show you when I get home?"

That got you a little, he could tell by the way you bit the inside of your cheek and a little color appeared on your neck.

Jack bumped your shoulder with his again as he turned to leave, "Come on," His voice back to normal, "GIve me the rundown so we can get you out of here."

~~~~~

When he got home he heard his police scanner going and smirked to himself. You had given him shit about it at first, but now you used it like a white noise machine.

He moved quietly through the house until he found you asleep on the couch in the living room in your comfy clothes. Jack knew that meant you had tried to stay up as late as possible, get your sleep schedule back on track. He leaned his right knee on the couch next to you and braced his hands on either side of you, one against the back of the couch the other on the cushion. Carefully he leaned in and kissed your cheek, "Hey sweetheart." Something in him loved that you didn't flinch, didn't jump awake, only grumbled slightly and then smirked as you awoke.

"Hey." Your voice was raspy with sleep and Jack couldn't help but move to kiss the side of your neck. You hummed and shifted to your back as you cracked your eyes open, "How was your night?"

Lips never leaving your neck he gave a simple answer, "Fine." His kisses moved, higher up towards the hinge of your jaw, "Ready to have my best girl back."

You chuckled, stretched under him and let your head roll to one side to give him more access, "Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm." his kisses became more and more involved, mouthing and sucking at your neck until he left a mark.

Wide awake under his attentions your eyes focused, "Ugh, no fair."

Jack chuckled as he pushed himself up, hovering over you at arms length. "What's not fair?"

Shifting to get comfortable you pouted, unconciously letting your legs fall open for him, as you tugged at the front of his tight, dark t-shirt. "I missed a sexy Dr Abbot night."

He couldn't help the wide smile as he shook his head, still not fully comprehending what it was about wearing cargo pants and a Tshirt instead of scrubs that did it for you. Jack was, however, man enough to admit that you liking it did something for him. "Sexy Dr Abbot night huh?" He shifted his weight, hIs left hand settling on the strip of skin that appeared just above your waistband as your shirt rode up.

You rolled your eyes but smiled, tugged on the shirt again, "Mhmm."

Jack caved, still smiling as he moved to lay down over the top of you, his smile widening as your hands moved under the t-shirt and stroked over his back, "Did you miss your sexy Dr. Abbot?" He teased as he kissed you, slipped his knee between your legs and pressed it against your core as he settled into you.

A little groan escaped between chuckles as your fingers dug into the muscles of his back, on either side of his spine. "Stop it."

"You're the one that said it." Jack chuckled with you as he shifted his weight slightly, drug his right hand the length of your body. From your throat, over a breast where he paused for a moment, palming it through your shirt in time with the way his tongue slid against yours. Then your hips began to move, of their own accord, grinding against his thigh ellictiing a moan, your lips separating from his as you threw your head back.

"Mhmm," Jack murmerd into your exposed throat, "Sure seems like you missed me." He smiled against your pulse as your hands scrambled with the bottom of his shirt. He let you drag it up over his head and then before you could pull him back into a kiss he peeled your bottoms off. Taking his time to toss them aside and then slowly caress his way from the arch of your foot, over the back of your knee and higher. "God you are gorgeous." His grip on you changed, hardened as he moved back over you. "Tell me you missed me baby." He mumbled into your mouth, groaning as he felt your hands move to unbotton his pants.

"You know I did." You smiled, nipped his top lip and watched him as your fingers wrapped around his cock.

"Oh, fuck..." His forehead dropped to yours, eyes closed and breath coming out in warm pants. "Fuck." He repeated as you stroked him, hand firm and confident, from base to tip and back. The muscles in his arms bulged and flexed as he held himself over you, fists clenching and unchlenching against the couch cushion as his cock hardened to your touch. "Baby..."

"What did you say earlier? Something you were going to show me?" You giggled, closed the short distance to brush your lips over his.

Jack smiled, ducked his head to kiss you properly and moved your hand aside so he could shove his pants and boxers down. Just far enough for him to enter you without preamble. Guiding his now achingly hard cock where it belonged. "God you feel too good sweetheart." He breathed the words into your mouth as he bottomed out, lowered the rest of his weight into you. "Too good."

Your whole body trembled underneath him as you moved to wrap your arms around his neck and keep him as close as possible. You dug your fingers into his hair, into the muscles of his shoulders and back, your legs wrapped around his hips as they moved against yours. "Jack..."

"Yeah baby?" Jack asked as he dropped a hand to your thigh, thick fingers digging into your flesh as he held you closer, fucked you just a little harder. "What's wrong?"

You let out a half chuckle half groan, your nails digging into the back of his shoulder blade, "Absolutely nothing." Your chuckle turned into something like a breathy giggle as he rewarded you with a particularly deep thrust. "Just, shit," you writhed under him as he moved the hand at your thigh between your bodies. His thumb working slow, teasing circles over your clit in time with his thrusts. "Just, you don't wanna take your prostthetic off?"

He smirked against your clavicle as he mouthed his way across to the opposite side of your neck. "Don't need to be comfortable right now baby," He picked up his pace, his thrusts and his thumb over your clit, moved harder, faster, "I need to feel you cum for me." Jack wasn't taking it slow after that, and the sounds you were making for him only motivated him to fuck you harder, faster, like he hadn't had you in a month not just a week. "So be a good girl and cum for me," The hand not playing with you slid under the back of your neck, grabbing it from behind, cradling you and applying pressure in a way that had your eyes rolling back and your back arching up off the couch. Lips against your ear, his own breathing ragged, "Need to feel it baby."

"So close, i'm so close, please, shit, Jack, I'm so close." You scrambled, tried everything in your power to drag him into you.

Jack just grinned, "I know, I know." He dropped a kiss against the shell of your ear, "Trust me," His voice was strained but his tone still steady, still soft and clinging to control. "You know I'm gonna take care of you baby, you know." When you nodded enthustically his grin widened, "Take a deep breath." When you didn't respond, he slowed his thrusts down, short and shallow, and when you whined, jack repeated himself, "Breathe. Relax and breathe."

As soon as you shuddered underneath him and took a long, deep breath, eyes slipping closed as you tried to do as he said, Jack whispered, "Good girl." HIs thumb stroked up the line of your carotid once and then settled over it, applied the perfect amount of pressure that made your head swim.

"Oh fuck...." Your mouth hung open and you moaned out his name.

Slowly Jack picked up his pace again, "Another deep breath baby."

You sucked in the air through your nose and moaned because you knew what came next. Because there was a timer running in Jacks head from the moment his thumb pressed down, and once that timer started there was no more teasing or playing, only fucking you as hard and as fast as he could. The whole time murmering every dirty thought that had ever crossed his mind. How you were his good girl, his best girl, all the depraved things he wanted to do to you, how you took his cock so well, and felt so fucking good. How you moaned his name so pretty, how he wanted to fucking ruin you, fill you up and never let you go.

When that timer in his head hit zero, he'd lift his thumb, let the blood rush back to your head and drive his cock into you as hard and as fast as he could, rubbing your clit furiously until you would shatter.

Your nails would dig into his back and you'd gasp for air, and for more. Then he'd snap, his ears would ring with your highpitched whines and his back would ache and he would empty himself inside of you. His hips never stopping until his vision cleared and he could feel the scratch of your fingertips through his hair, the hammering of your heart against his own.

"Jesus Christ," You whispered it, a sexy, satisfied giggle behind it, "I still don't understand how..." You paused for a deep breath and your pussy shuddered around him, "It happens so fast when you do that." You smile as he mouths at the side of your neck.

"Which is why," He tips your face to his so he can kiss you properly before he manhandles you around, swapping places with you so he's on his back and your draped over top of him, "I only do it when I know i'm not going to fucking last." He laughs at himself, drags you down into a vulgar kiss as he reached down to shift your hips and settle you properly. His softening dick still inside you and mess between you.

Jack laid there for a moment and closed his eyes, listened to you breathing slow to match his, a wave of comfort washed over him as he wrapped his arms around you and held you close. You settled into his grasp and hummed, a happy little sound in the back of your throat as you curled around him. Both of you half naked and spent on his living room couch. He smiled, kissed the top of your head, nowhere else he'd rather be in in that moment than right there.

~~~~~~~

His fingertips stroked slowly over your back, under your shirt, when you break the post-coital silence. "Can we talk about something?"

Swallowing down the fear rapidly rising in his throat Jack nods and kisses the top of your head, "What's up?"

"My residency is almost over."

He nods, lays the hand flat and wide over the small of your back like his subconcious is trying to keep you where he felt you belonged. "Thought about what you're going to do?"

"That's sort of what I want to talk to you about." You sit up and the both of you make a face at the way your bodies shifted together. You watch as Jack settles a hand on your thigh and you reach for the other. You take his hand in both of yours and started to massage away the stiffness you knew would be there after a long shift. "There's no guarantee I get the open attending spot here, and if I don't… I just… I guess I just want to know what you think I should do."

Jack took a deep breath and studied your face intently, held your gaze. "I'm hesitant to tell you what I think because, I don't think I can be impartial, not really. I want you to make the best decision for yourself and not let me… being selfish… affect your decision."

That made you take a moment, consider as you watched him. Your thumbs still moved in soothing circles over the knuckles and palm of his hand. "I'm not asking you to be impartial. I'm asking you, someone whose opinion matters to me deeply, to discuss a very important decision I might have to make."

It hits him in the gut to hear you say that, because he knows what he wants. He knows he could tell you. He doesn't know with certainty what you want though. "Okay, well, as your attending. You are an incredibly talented and valuable emergency physician and there's plenty of hospitals that would fight to have you. I think we would be idiots to not fight to keep you here, because you are good, you're steady and fast and you're a leader, but also because we have poured a shit ton of time and resources into developing you. It would be irresponsible to let you go, but you could go anywhere you wanted and be extremely successful."

You had to fight back tears at his praise and he must have seen it because Jack stroked his hand over your thigh with a little extra pressure and a tight grin.

"As the man that loves you…because God I fucking love you and I love working with you, but either way that's going to change soon, I want you here with me. Even if that means something other than the Pitt. And… I acknowledge, as much as it sucks, that might not be what's best for you, or even be what you want."

You're chewing on your lip hard, trying to keep your own emotions in check. You love Jack, but he is also your mentor and you value his opinion and he is honestly the only one you could imagine having this conversation with. "I don't want to go anywhere else, I want to stay where I am… I'm just terrified I … What if I put in for the open spot at PTMC and don't get it?"

Jack gives you the most encouraging smile he can without giving himself away and moves to sit up. Taking you with him as he twists around to sit on the couch properly and wrap his arms around you. "Sweetheart that's fine, if you don't work for us you'll go somewhere else. There's six trauma centers in Pittsburgh, there's 52 in the state. Hell there's over 200 level ones in the country and baby you could run any of them. I know you could." He fidgets for a moment and seems to look everywhere but you before he can get locked in. He looks you in the eye, "If you want my opinion you could go anywhere, but I want you here. I just don't want to be the reason you settle for less."

Your breath caught in your throat, "Jack…"

He can't help the thought that he's going to have to talk to his therapist about the look on your face, the weight in his chest as he sits with you on his lap, dick still just a little hard inside you, the mess you made together sticky between you and every fiber of his being is fighting the urge to beg you to stay because he needs you.

"On what planet is being here with you considered less? Don't say that." You kiss him hard, then pull back, "If I apply for the slot… they're going to look sideways at both of us."

"Let 'em. Baby, that's goin' to come down on me not you."

You scoff, "We both know it doesn't work that way. If they want to raise hell about me being in a relationship with my attending that shit could follow me."

Jack hates that that's true, even if it happens in every fucking teaching hospital in the country. "To be fair, I'm tenured and I make enough for both of us. Worse comes to worse. Fuck 'em."

"Not helpful." You smack him on the chest, but chuckle despite the tension.

He shrugs, "There's ways to go about it, so maybe we haven't made it obvious, but not like we've been keeping it a state secret either, and it's not some abuse of power, hasn't affected either of our performance. I'm still going to be with you when you're an attending, or hell, when you're the chief for that matter. If i'm still around that long. Honestly… if you want to be shady about it between me and Shen, Robby is the chief, I'm willing to bet we can rig it in your favor."

"Also not helpful!" You kiss him though, "I do find it oddly attractive that you're so willing to bend the rules though."

"I know you do." He kissed you back. "Promise to play by the rules for a change."

You smile, "So, what If I told you I wanted to stay here after my residency? What if I want the attending spot at the Pitt and to stay with you?"

Jack shook his head, squeezed you tighter, "Don't ask me baby, tell me. Is that what you want?"

"I want you. If I can have you and the Pitt, perfect. If not, I'd work anywhere if it means we are together." You kiss him again, trying to get your point across, "That doesn't feel like settling to me Jack. Not even close."

How he felt in that moment was something he couldn't name, because no matter how ecstatic it makes him to hear you say you want him a piece of him is drowning in the guilt that you could be giving up something so much better.

You run your hands over his bare chest, his shoulders and then slide them up the side of his neck to hold him in place. "Is that… Is that okay?"

Like so many times before Jack shoves that doubt aside and figures, fuck it. He thinks about that first fleeting kiss on the roof, the one in his truck, all the rides home, the coffee and conversations, the morning you had asked him to come upstairs. All the times you were the one that took that leap of faith, because he couldn't. He'd been trying not to jump for years.

He kissed you, long and slow as he thinks and then whispers against your lips. "Sweetheart," He kisses you again, "Do me a favor and go grab my bag?"

You look confused, rightfully so, but smirk and duck your head to nip at the meat of one of his pecs. "You know, I'm not supposed to be able to walk after you fuck me like that."

Jack groans and feels fucking ancient, but can't help the need to swat you on the ass and give you a little push, "Love to watch you try though."

Because, yeah, you are still a little unsteady and you both trembled as you had raised up and his semi hard dick had slipped out of you. He watched you walk out of the living room and tucked himself back into his boxers before he did up the fly of his pants. The conversation you were about to have was one he couldn't have with his dick inside you, no matter how good it felt.

When you came back his eyes drank you in, shirt askew and hair a mess, a sheen between your legs that made the blood in his veins rush south again.

"Here you go." You hold out the camo backpack as you round the end of the couch.

"Need you to grab something for me, out of the liner pocket on the inside." He smirked at the way you arch your brow at him, but still come back to sit on his lap. He holds his breath as you set the bag on the couch next to you and pulled at the zipper. Jack had to try not to stare at the patch velcroed to the front. Abbot. He lets his hands settle on your thighs while he waits, thumb stroking over your femoral artery.

"What exactly am I…"

"You'll know." He cuts you off.

You stop.

He feels your heart rate skyrocket under his thumb, every muscle in your body goes rigid and he watches as your eyes blink rapidly like you're trying to clear your vision. "That's what I want sweetheart."

Your eyes are the only part of you that moves. They jump from what you found in the pocket, to his face and back. "How long have you had this?" Because what you're holding, it's not something bought on a whim.

Jack can't help but laugh at himself, "Awhile." Is all he'll tell you right now. He fights for your eye contact, but for one of the only times he can remember, it's like you can't quite hold it. Your eyes keep flicking to him and away again.

"Why?"

"Just in case."

You look at him then, really look at him, and don't look away. Give him that eye contact he craves and he sucks in air like he can breath again, head above water for just a moment. You smirk at hearing him repeat your own words back to you from so long ago. Your voice shakes, "Just in case what?"

He smirks right back at you as he moves the backpack out of the way with one hand and then holds it out, palm up. You carefully put what you had found in his hand, unopened, because the simple presence of the small, shiny, sleek, perfectly square, black box had told you everything you needed to know. Jack makes sure to brush your fingers with his as he takes the box from you and pops it open. "Just in case you ever decided to go back to dayshift, thought I might have to bribe you."

You choke out a laugh and Jack smiles, but his throat is dry and the way you look like you're about to cry really isn't helping.

He repeats himself as he pulls out the ring, rolls it carefully between his thumb and forefiner, "This is what I want sweetheart. Then he chokes out a laugh of his own, "I don't give a shit where you work baby, wherever you want. Only thing I give a fuck about is that they call you Dr. Abbot." He cracks a smile when you laugh with him and he can feel you relax, your weight sinking into him as you lean in to kiss him. Clumsy and sloppy and with a smile.

"You're fucking ego sometimes."

"You can hyphenate if you want."

"Oh, I can, can I? So generous."

Every word between you is murmured between kisses. He diesn't have to hear you say it, he knows the answer.

He doesn't have to tell you he's had the ring your entire fourth year of residency. Just waiting for you to say you wanted to stay.

You're really shaking when he slips the ring on your finger and of course it fits perfectly and of course it's exactly what you would have picked, because it's Jack. Becasuse this has never been casual for either of you, not for one single moment.

You pull back from kissing him with a laugh and an evil grin, "You suppose I'd be more or less likely to get the attending position with your last name?"

Jack laughs with you and drags your hips closer, because as soon as this conversation is finished he's taking you to bed and doing terrible, filthy things to you the rest of the weekend. "Look me in the eye and tell me this is really what you want baby."

He can feel the metal of the ring on your finger as your hand presses against his jaw, "This is what I want Jack. This is exactly what I want."

Your noses bump together as he kisses you and nods, "Have something else I need to tell you then." He kissed you again, before you can panic. "You don't need to apply for the attending position."

You put some distance between you and for the first time in a long time Jack has to gently stop you, guide you away from putting too much pressure on his right knee at this angle. You murmur a little, "Sorry." as you scoot closer. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Arms locked tight around you Jack keeps a straight face, tells you something he's wanted to tell you since you started this conversation. "It's not going to come down to whether you get the job or not. Robby already tagged you for it."

You blink, "What?"

Jack rubbed his hands over your thighs, putting in the pressure and the warmth to keep you grounded, "It's going to come down to whether you want the job or not, because they're going to offer it to you once you complete your residency."

"You're fucking with me right now."

He chuckles, "I am not fucking with you right now. It's like I told you; we'd be stupid to let you go anywhere else."

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" He's almost laughing outright now, "They asked us for our recommendations, every single one of us said you. Obviously I'm not supposed to tell you, but…"

"So you were just letting me stress out about all of this!? About the fact that I might lose you, because I wasn't going to get the job, that I was going to have to leave and, and move to the opposite side of the country or something!"

"I was trying to stay out if it. In case being here isn't what you wanted." He left the 'if I wasn't what you wanted' out of it.

"Jack!, I mean Jesus, c'mon! We've been together for almost two fucking years. How would you even begin to think this isn't what I wanted!?" You're yelling at him, but you're laughing and crying and have a death grip on the back of his neck.

Jack takes a deep breath and deescalates. "My therapist says I plan for the worst case scenario as a coping mechanism, as a way to try and protect myself from the pain of unforseen loss."

Taking his lead you take a deep breath, lower your tone. "Yeah, he also says it's one thing to be prepared for emergencies and another to try and plan for the worst possible outcome to a conversation, that you haven't even initated, therefore running the risk of 'planning' that worst case outcome into existence." You scowl at him.

Sometimes he hates that you're so in tune, so invested and involved in his mental health, because it's annoying to hear his therapist come out of your mouth. He smirks though, because he also loves it a little and can't imagine anyone else holding him accountable the way you do.

"Since you brought your therapist into it, have you told him you've been carrying around my engagement ring in your backpack next to a three day supply of MREs?"

He doesn't answer you because you know he hasn't, you're just making a point. Jack smirks and smooths his hands up your back, "Sure you wanna marry me?" His chest hurts at the way you light up as he watches your eyes flick back to the ring he slipped on your finger.

"Very sure." You looked him in the eye like you were daring him to doubt you and gave him that little smirk. The one that had started this all, where it tipped up to one side like you were trying not to show him something.

Jack waited for you to lean in and kiss him, waited for your fingers to comb into his curls and your tongue to chase after his, and then he grabbed you tight and pushed to his feet. Chuckling at the way you still squeaked and giggled, no matter how many times he's carried you to bed that way. Or to the couch, the shower, the nearest wall or flat surface.

Later, when you're both exhausted and the blackout curtains are keeping the afternoon sun at bay, you're laying beside him with your head on his shoulder, one leg draped over his and your left hand on his chest. Neither of you can stop staring at the faint glint that is the ring in the dim light of the room.

"Are you sure?"

Jack chuckles, presses a kiss to the top of your head and murmers, "How many times you going to ask me that?"

You bite your lip and turn your face into his neck, "Just making sure."

He closes his eyes when he feels you trace his collar bone with your lips and he moves to cradle the back of her head, holding you close. Jack thinks again about those first two kisses, about the way you had explained yourself. 'Just in case.' He tips your head back so he can kiss you, deep and with emotion he still can't quite process out loud. "I'm sure sweetheart." He kissed you again.

There was something extremely appropriate about the phrase, 'just in case.' he thought and for the rest of his life, every time he kissed you, touched you, told you he loved you, in the back of his mind he'd think. 'Just in case.' Because he knew better than anyone, there was no way to know what time would be the last.

"Hey," Your voice was soft, half asleep when your hand rested against his jaw to pull him out of his thoughts, "I love you." You said it like you knew where his thoughts had gone.

Jack kissed you, holding you close like he'd never let you go. "Love you too."

~~~ The End~~~

[what-the-fuck-anyway]

"i didn't understand why trans women kept complaining until i read a paper and decided to uncritically apply the part about cis men to trans women! something which, historically, is much more convenient than listening to trans women when they tell me what the problem is completely unproblematic and likely to have good results*! c'mere, everybody and listen up; i figured it out! it's their male socialization!

...uh, i mean, yeah, i guess people do take advantage of the "plausible deniability" to misgender trans women.....

buuuuuut i think the male socialization is probably why they won't shut up about it, mostly. might as well stop engaging with them about it, they're not gonna listen anyway, even though everyone here is participating in good faith™"

be so fucking serious.

you acknowledge in your post that trans women are subjected to purposeful misgendering under the guise of "plausibily deniably" "ungendered" words and forms of address, and still think the main issue is that trans women are too unselfaware to recognize when people "aren't misgendering" us? even though your own argument would mean that cis men are, in fact, still misgendering us when they call us dude? you just gloss over that part in your eagerness to have a way for people who aren't trans women "amab" to be in the right, here?

"could it be that trans women accurately perceive the power dynamics at play and object to the double binds they're constantly placed in, socially, where objecting paints them as hysterical and accepting is used to erode their boundaries and self worth? ...no, it's the trannies 'amabs' who are wrong! they can't help acting like that, it's just what what you should expect from someone who grew up, you know, like they did."

"oh fuck wait people are gonna get angry if they realize my argument can be summed up as 'the problem is that trans women have male socialization' ...i know! i'll describe around that particular turn of phrase, without reflecting on if needing to avoid the words to make my argument is, perhaps, a sign that it's flawed! foolproof. so long as i don't use those words in that order, i don't need to actually change the content of what i'm saying! gosh, this sure is convenient, and surely can't go wrong in any way! everyone knows, needing to launder your arguments so that people don't immediately catch on to what you're saying is a sign of debating in good faith!"

fuck off.

*except for all those times... but it's probably okay this time.

So the "don't call trans women dude" discourse is back on my dash, and I just read something that might explain why it's such a frustrating argument for everyone involved.

TLDR: There's gender-cultural differences that explain why people are arguing about this- and a reason it hurts trans women more than you might think if you were raised on the other side of the cultural divide.

I'll admit, I used to be very much on team "I won't call you 'dude' if it feels like misgendering, but also I don't really grok why it feels like I'm misgendering you, especially if I'm not addressing you directly." But then I read an academic paper that really unpicked how people used the word 'dude' (it's Kiesling (2004) if you're curious) and I realized that the way I was taught to use the word was different from the way most trans women were taught.

... So the thing about the word 'dude' that's really interesting is that it's used differently a) by people of different genders and b) across gender lines. This study is, obviously, 20 years old, but a lot of the conclusions hold up. The gist is, there's ~5 different ways that people use the word "dude":

marking discourse structure- AKA separating thoughts. You can use the word 'dude' to signal that you're changing the subject or going on a different train of thought.

exclamation. You can use the word "dude" the way you'd use another interjection like "oh my god" or "god damn".

confrontational stance mitigation. When you're getting in an argument with someone, you can address them as 'dude' to de-escalate. If you're both the same gender, it's homosocial bonding. If you're different genders, it's an attempt to weaken the gender-related power dynamic.

marking affiliation and connection. Kiesling calls this 'cool solidarity'- the idea is, "I'm a dude, you're a dude. We're just guys being dudes." This is often a greeting or a form of address (aka directly calling someone dude).

signaling agreement. "Dude, you are soooo right", kind of deal.

Now, here's the important part.

When [cis] men use the word 'dude', they are overwhelmingly using it as a form of address to mark affiliation and connection- "hey, we're all bros here, dude"- to mitigate a confrontational stance, or to signal agreement.

When [cis] women use the word 'dude', they're often commiserating about something bad (and marking affiliation/connection), mitigating a confrontational stance, or giving someone a direct order. (Anecdotally, I'd guess cis women also use it as an exclamation - this is how I most often use it.)

Cis men use the word 'dude' to say 'we're all guys here'. It is a direct form of male bonding. If a cis man uses the word 'dude' in your presence, he is generally calling you one of the guys.

Cis women use the word 'dude' to say 'we're on the same level as you; we're peers'- especially to de-escalate an argument with a cis man. Between women, it's an expression of ~cool solidarity~; when a woman's addressing a man, it's a way to say 'I'm as good as you, knock it off'.

So you've got this cultural difference, depending on how you were raised and where you spent time in your formative years. If you were assigned female at birth, you're probably used to thinking of the word 'dude' as something that isn't a direct form of address- and, if you're addressing it to someone you see as a girl, you're probably thinking of it as 'cool solidarity'! You're not trying to tell the person you're talking to that they're a man- you're trying to convey that they're a cool person that you relate to as a peer.

Meanwhile, if you were assigned male at birth and spent your teens surrounded by cis guys, you're used to thinking of 'dude' as an expression of "we're all guys here", and specifically as homosocial male bonding. Someone using the word 'dude' extensively in your presence, even if they're not calling you 'dude' directly, feels like they're trying to put you in the Man Box, regardless of how they mean it.*

So what you get is this horrible, neverending argument, where everyone's lightly triggered and no one's happy.

The takeaway here: Obviously, don't call people things they don't want to be called, regardless of gender! But no one in this argument is coming to it in bad faith.

If you were raised as a cis woman and you're using the word the way a cis woman is, it is a gender-neutral term for you (with some subconscious gendered connotations you might not have realized). But if you were raised as a cis man and you're using the word the way a cis man uses it, the word dude is inherently gendered.

Don't pick this fight; it's as pointless as a French person and an American person arguing whether cheek kisses are an acceptable greeting. To one person, they might be. To another person, they aren't. Accept that your worldview is different, move on, and again, don't call people things they don't want to be called.

*(There is, of course, also the secret third thing, where someone who is trying to misgender a trans woman uses the word 'dude' to a trans woman the way they'd use it to a man. This absolutely happens. But I think the other dynamic is the reason we keep having this argument.)

[midnghtprentiss]

the favorite - jack abbot x f!attending!reader

pairing: jack abbot x f!attending!reader

a/n: this is my first jack story and i'm really excited. as a former healthcare worker (nurse!) the pitt changed a lot of things for me and it's my favorite show so far. hope you all like this idea of mine. sorry for any spelling mistakes. english is not my first language.

summary: all the times you were everyone's favorite person and one time you were jack’s person. 

one. 

you're a ray of sunshine. 

that's your thing.

you’re nice, intelligent, competent, kind and still the best part of the day for some people. and you’re smart as hell. she loves it. 

your calm energy it’s the reason why you work at the emergency department. people need your calmness around to work. which means you’re the favorite doctor beneath the staff, especially the nurses and med students - you’re their golden girl. 

dana loved you for different reasons. your sense of humour, your energy, the way you pay attention to the details. and most because you stay out of trouble. 

she never had a problem with you, actually, she was glad they put someone sane and kind to work in that shithole. every shift you showed up with something for the team. 

maybe homemade cookies, a cake and even a bread if you feel inspired baking for your people to show how grateful you are for them and to keep the spirits up. thank god it worked every time. perla and princess waited for you in the parking lot a few times just to make sure you got something good. 

what they admired the most about you was your strength to defend the nurses from the crazy patients. it doesn’t matter the shift, if someone is fighting with them, you’re the first one to show up and say some things. perla remembered how you got beaten up to defend princess from a perv that was touching her and how you ended up laughing about it with blood all over your nose (jack almost died when he saw you covered in blood - your blood). 

“it’s nothing, dana. he was touching her and i don’t appreciate it when men do that. she asked him to stop and he didn’t.” you shrugged and smiled at her. “don’t worry, alright? i would've done it for any of you.”

“kiddo, one of these days you’re going to kill me.”

“no i won’t.” you bolwed her a kiss and she laughed. a relieved laugh. “it’s not my fault i would take a bullet for you guys.” 

no one ever questioned your loyalty with the team, everybody knows exactly where’s the limit between respect and bullshit with you. from this day on, she put you under her wing and swore to herself anything that could ever happen to you during a shift was her full responsibility. some days the funniest part of her shift was explaining to abbot how you almost went home with a broken arm to defend them.

two. 

robby was his own person and you knew that. he loved the space, the warmth of his own heart and the loneliness. of course you were worried a lot of times. 

but for him you were like a breath of fresh air. the way you cracked jokes when you noticed he was this close to snap, when you distracted him for a few minutes with some picture of your cat, even taking him to the morgue just to swear bad words, or when you brought him coffee and chocolate. even when you covered for him for a few minutes so he could cry in peace. 

and he loved you a lot for that (and a lot of other reasons, but let’s focus on the main ones).

you never said a word about any of the things he never asked you to do and you've done it either way. he could count on you any moment of the shift just for glancing different at your direction. sometimes you have conversations with your eyes, sometimes you just cursed him under your breath and that was it. 

you even scared him a little. 

“i don’t want to see you for at least twenty minutes, robinavich. don’t make me yell at you.” you don’t even gleaned at him from the computer. “i got this. go grab something to eat while you cry, i don’t know. call your boyfriend, go watch some babies at peds i want you gone. the kids are my responsibility now.” 

“i need to be grown up now, i am literally their boss.” he tried to argue but one look from you was enough.

“if you don’t disappear in the next thirty seconds i’ll call jack and things will be worse.” you got up crossing your arms like a mother. 

“jezz, fine. please don’t ground call papa” he rolled his eyes, laughing and walked away from you, disappearing from your sight. 

“that’s how you teach grown men to be normal.” you winked at dana who was watching everything mesmerized cause she begged robby to take a break and he didn’t listen. 

robby was gone for thirty minutes and no one noticed his absence. when he returned to the nursing station he saw you teaching the med students how to do a proper examination on a normal patient, listening and answering all of the questions they had like a pro. 

you got everything covered and he felt good to have someone to help without needing to ask. 

that’s why you were his favorite. 

three. 

the med students loved you. the absolutely worship the ground you walked on. they loved your patience, your mind and especially how you treated them like people. in your mind they were there to learn, which means they'll make some mistakes and that's partially fine as long as they don’t kill anybody. 

“she has a masters and a doctorate, guys!” javadi once exclaimed like she found gold at the ED. 

at some point you became their confident. you knew every little detail about their life. how withaker was living with santos, how javadi was crushing mateo really bad even how santos struggled with the loss of her friend. mel learned how to open up about her sister's situation and mohan was navigating through the loss of her father even after all this time. you even helped mckay with the legal proceedings for her to have her son back. 

you knew everything. 

during your shifts you did your best to rotate between them. each day you choose one to watch from close and teach what you know and everyday they fight to decide who stays with you but after dr santos and whitaker dared to start a fist fight robby and dana choose for them. 

robby and jack were a little jealous of you, especially because you’re a smooth talker and you charmed everyone who listened. 

“it’s unfair how they follow you around like some sort of queen bee.” robby almost cried with his words. 

“i heard they have a groupchat with you, is it true?” jack nearly jumps from his seat. 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you sipped your coffee. 

“oh you know exactly what i’m saying.” he shots back and you laughed hard. 

“are you jealous of them? from what i’ve known you don’t even like interns, abbot.” 

“yeah, but i like to know what they say about my girl.” 

“they call her mama bear, brother.” robby looked at his hands trying to hold a chuckle. 

they’re definitely jealous. 

you use your time to teach them some valuable lessons. you help them navigate in the transition of becoming a doctor. smoothly and nice, just like you learned. 

“you know, santos, i’ll be honest, you need to review your way of talking with people.” you were beside her with crossing arms, watching her stitch a patient. 

your voice was hard and soft at the same time. 

“i’m only rude to the jerks.” you hold your laugh. 

“at one moment you’ll start to see all of them as jerks and this can’t happen.” you warned her softly. “imagined if you’re the one in their position. would you like to be treated like that?” 

she stared at you and nodded gently, sighing at your words. 

“what if i can’t do that?” 

“you will call me and we’ll try a different approach.” you touch her shoulder and squeeze. “i don’t want you to be cold and indifferent. the medicine needs to make you feel something. you’re doing a good thing for someone you like or not.”

they listen to you and they care. if you say something immediately they’ll do it and will make it like their life depends on it. 

at your birthday, for example, they made you a cake from scratch and even decorated it with pink frost and a glitter candle. you burst out laughing just for them to do that for you. no one else got a cake, just you. 

they even wrote you a small letter. 

“thank you for being the best teacher for us. we loved you, mama bear.  lots of love and hugs from your students.”

you were really grateful for those kids and they were grateful you’re their teacher. 

four. 

langdon was a problematic guy. it was no secret. he knew it, you knew it. but he was an exceptional doctor. no discussions about that. it was a fact. 

when he first started struggling with his addiction he came to you. something was happening to him and you got it in your heart that in the right moment he would talk. 

and he did.

he always talked about his problems with you. he came to talk about his marriage and how scared he was to broke things off with abby, how scared he was of being a shitty father. he viewed you more like an older sister, a protector of him. he liked how you never judged his fears, he liked the way you listened and tried to put some sense into his mind to do the right things. 

but this time it was different. it was worse. eating him alive. 

you were working a double shift when he found you in the stairs eating a burger in peace. you offered him some and he denied it. the air around him was thick, heavy and sad. he was a broken man and the sight almost broke your heart. 

“talk to me, frank.” 

“i fucked up.” you nodded, putting your food away to hold his hand.

“heard about it.” he sighed and you could see how embarrassed he was. “you need to get some help. i can’t see you struggling and acting like nothing's wrong. i like you too much to close my eyes and pretend.”

“i’m going to rehab. eleven months.” you smile. “robby is pretty pissed at me.” you both laughed. 

“good for you, frank.” your hand find his shoulder “you’re gonna get better. i’ll be there to help you whenever you need someone to talk, to eat burgers or talk shit about our job.the world is pretty fucked and i’m pretty sure you need a chance to make things right from your mistakes, you hear me?”

he nodded feeling a little less lost knowing you’ll be there to help. he wasn’t alone anymore and when he understood he had you by his side, the journey was smoother. 

five. 

jack abbot was a man of darkness. he worked so much better at night. it was his comfort zone. 

until you showed up years ago and messed up this whole dark theme he had planned for himself. 

working doubles wasn’t strange to you. you have bills to pay and things to accomplish and no time to waste. you two get along pretty well. more than well, actually. you were unstoppable together and everybody knew that. even walsh recognize you were good. she liked you (a miracle in jack’s view) a lot. 

you knew better than to date another doctor. you did this once and ended up in a pretty bad divorce. and with jack? you didn’t care anymore. 

he also knew better than to date another doctor. to date anyone actually. but no one was you. no one had a contagious laughter like yours. no one had a brain like yours. 

he was pretty sure god, or whatever divine figure, sent you just for him. 

the whole ‘soulmate’ story was a lie to him, until it wasn’t. you definitely was his soulmate. his favorite person.

his person. 

from the quiet drive home after a shift. from the warmth of your body curled around him. even your cold feet touching his feet in the middle of the night. 

falling for you was so easy if you like to observe things from a closer perspective. he noticed how you always have something red when you work the night shift and how you have something green at the day shift. he noticed you liked your coffee sweet for normal shifts and how you drink your coffee black at night.

he observes how you treat everyone, how you greet them with a bright smile and the coziest hugs even on your worst day. he could spend hours watching you talk (he does that everytime you pick an online class to teach) or breathe (he watched your sleep like a crazy psycho). 

you’re his person when you grab him coffee without him asking, when you sneak a sweet in the pocket of his scrubs. when you catch his gaze from across the room. when you start rambling about some gossip you heard through dana. when you talk to yourself trying to remember the article you just published.

to be loved is to be seen and he sees you. 

 you’re his person when he knows you’re his. 

he knows you are his girl when you’re sitting in his bed with his shirt and his socks, messy bun, glasses, computer on your lap, cup of tea in the nightstand and his dog laying at your feet waiting for you to move. the comfortable silence. the white noise of the television playing something he lost track of what it was. it’s when he looks at you like you’re his salvation from the darkness. it’s the words that come through his mind when he writes you a letter or a note. 

“i think i’m going crazy.” you whisper looking at him for a second.

“where is this coming from?” he chuckled. 

‘just checking if you agree or not.” you winked and he laughed hard. 

“pretty funny until you start accusing me of madness.” 

“i could never! it was one time, c’mon.” he took your glasses and held your face. 

“you’re the most gorgeous thing i’ve ever seen.” love. that was love from him. 

he doesn’t feel bad showing you who he really is. you’ve seen him, really seen him. you love him for who he is, good baggage or bad. you love his mean remarks, his type of affection. you love how he is quiet. you love how he balances his life going to therapy, talking to someone. you find it funny how he tries to hide a smile when you compliment him. how he flustered when you kiss him in public. how he loves when you bake cookies for him. 

“i loved your brownies. did you put some coffee this time? best one so far. love you. -j”

to be loved is to be seen and you see him. 

it’s the hope of a future he know it’s worth fighting for because you’re his person. you’re his present.

the kind of love that doesn't need words to be there (but he has a ring in his drawer waiting for the right moment). 

[midnightshindig]

i hope that’s not too distressing of a scenario but i wanna know how would mark, cecil, donald, rex and allen react to accidentally making you cry during an argument! god knows they’re capable of doing that lmao

Allen, Cecil, Donald, Mark, and Rex x Reader: Making you Cry

ngl if a man ever made me cry during an argument i'd hit him with my car

hcs under the cut!

Allen

like legit the most gentle dude alive

He fucks up sometimes because he treats you like an equal, and forgets that not everyone can take a verbal lashing like he can

You probably get into an argument about his job, telling him that you don't like him almost dying all the time

"What? You think I should let thousands of people die for YOUR comfort?! You don't get how much bigger this is! This is more important than you!"

it sends you over the edge, tears spilling down your puffy cheeks

It hurts to have something true said so hurtfully

he immediately caves, apologizing profusely and putting an arm around your shoulder

"Heyyy.... heyyyyy shh shh shhhhhh, I'm sorry- I'm so sorry baby I shouldn't have said that-"

he hates seeing a pretty person cry <3

Cecil

lowkey a menace ngl

He doesn't like making you upset but he's RIGHT and he's not willing to lie for the sake of your feelings

Like Allen, you probably fight about his job

"Y/n, let me make it crystal clear, if it comes down between my job and my relationships, you're welcome to leave."

"So what? I'm not allowed to have problems without you disregarding them?! That's not a relationship, Cecil. I'm not convenient for you."

He groaned, leaning into his hands "God don't I know. Trust me, Y/n, you're the furthest thing FROM convenient with these tantrums."

his words stung, coming from the man who was usually so kind. Who was so good at balancing the demands of his life and the demands of his love

you bit back tears, welling up in your tear ducts but holding their place due to your unwillingness to conciet

buuuuuut he noticed nontheless, and softened momentarily

"Y/n..... I'm.... I shouldn't have said that." he reached out for your hand, but you snatched it back and turned on your heel

"Fuck off, Cecil. Go do your important work." and with that you left the room, storming off somewhere else to cool down

Donald

Type of dude who doesn't get heated often

He's literally js a chill guy

Probably pulls a Devil Wears Prada and yells at you out of stress

"Y/n- Fuck- do you have those papers copied? Cecil needs them now-"

"Oh, sorry honey I thought I told you, our printer is out of ink." You replied casually, leaning against the dining room table

This sent Donald into a stressed panic as he raced around the room

"You didn't think to TELL ME?!!" He cried out, more aggressive than he intended

You'd never heard him yell before

CERTAINLY not at you

and the waterworks began

You sniffled and wiped at the tears with the backs of your hands

But Donald was too busy to notice, let alone console you

Nontheless, once he resolved with Cecil, the first thing he did was call you from work

"Y/n, I am SO sorry for yelling at you this morning. It was out of line and I apologize."

he topped it off by making dinner for you from scratch as an apology

Mark

He's so nice but he's SOOOOO stupid

you're probably arguing about something hypothetical, like a comic book morality issue

and he takes it too far

"Aghhh Mark, it's totally fucked up for Superman to have that much unchecked power! What happens if he turns evil or something?"

"Y/n, the point of superman is that he's a good guy!! He fights the bad guys!"

"Okayyyy but we see sometimes his idea of whats right differs from the government, who gets to make that decision? The government? How do you govern the ungovernable when the ungovernable is the one who governs you? How do you checks and balances a god?"

"Oh my god- If you're good, you're good. You don't need checks and balances if you're a good person!!"

"But what if someone with that kind of power WASN'T good?!" your argument increasing in heat, you jokingly feeding into his very real anger "You NEED kryptonite to ensure Superman doesn't go off the deep end!"

Marks eye twitched "And who is someone like YOU to decide what a SUPERHERO should and shouldn't be able to do?!? HUH?!"

"Mark you're taking this too seriously-"

"GAh- NO! I'm serious, Y/n!. What business do regular people have telling me how to use my abilities? The government?! What a joke!"

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Mark, I love you, but you're starting to sound like your dad"

Marks eyes widened as he shot up from the bed, breathing heavy with anxiety at the accusation "SH- SHUT UP!!!"

The room shook a little, the bed shook harder, causing you to briefly lose your seating and rustling you a little more than you would've liked

You stared at him, wide eyed, afraid, and furious

tears silently streaming down your face

You quielty stood up and dusted yourself off, walking over to Mark, who had begun panicking when he realized what had happened

"You need to get it the fuck together. That was pathetic. I will not date the equivalent of a frat bro who punches walls when his girlfriend won't fuck him."

He reached out to wipe the tears from your cheeks, his eyes widening when you flinched

"Oh- Oh fuck- Y/n, I am so sorry that was so horrible oh shit oh shit- are you okay? babe I'm so sorry" he wrapped you up in a hug, levitating off the floor slightly as he did, pulling you to your tiptoes

Rex

honestly he's such a dick i'm not surprised

You probably catch him ogling your waitress or smth and tell him off

It escalates from there:

"You were totally eye fucking her, Rex! What the hell?" You hissed, trying not to cause a scene in this Olive Garden

He scoffed, eating an olive off YOUR martini skewer "Babe please, I'm appreciating her boobie-I mean beauty!" He grinned, hoping his hilarious mistake would make up for his bullshit

You grimaced in response, rolling your eyes "Rex you're being a jackass. If this is how you are no wonder Eve left your ass."

He responded by spitting back "At least Eve was hot."

It hit him how stupid he was the second it left his mouth, and regret filled his expression as you slowly started crying

It was a restrained sob, only louder as you attempted to choke it back

Only made worse by the realization people were staring at your ugly, puffy, crying face

and Rex had caused it

he reached across the table for your hand "Hey- I didn't mean that. You're SO hot, you're like- gorgeous. Way prettier than the waitress."

He didn't get it.

You stood up and grabbed your bag, walking to the restroom as Rex followed suite

"Rex, go away."

"No! I apologized, why are you still crying? hey-" He tried to calm you down, following after you and cooing at you

"GAh-" you spit out, turning to face him "You think I need you to remind me your ex is a hot superheroine I can't compete with? And that you fumbled HER. If she wasn't enough for you how could I POSSIBLY be?!"

Rex softened, pulling you into the family restroom for some privacy

"I've grown up a lot since that, and even though I fuck up-" he took both your hands, looking at you through his eyelashes "I would NEVER cheat on you. Nobody deserves that. Especially not my gorgeous, amazing, patient, skilled, precious, unfathomably hot and hilarious, and perfect partner. You're all I want. My eyes wander but my heart-"

he put your hands on his heart

"My hearts all yours, babes."

[yourmessagehasbeendenied]

~WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?

tw; suggestive language, cursing, MDNI, reader stands up for herself, meanie!simon turned into soft!simon, angry!reader, misunderstandings to lovers. fem!reader (chubby, yes, mostly what i write, i gotta give my girls some love.)

You were used to you being the only person without a boyfriend. You were used to people looking at you, or bullying you, and at first it hurt, sure, when you were a kid. But you were used to the people now, you were done being the laughing stock of everyone. It's been a long time since anyone's insulted, you for one reason; They know you bite. Working a dead-end job in a coffee shop with customers either rude or sweet, it's a constant mood change. It's like an emotional rollercoaster, and most of the time it all ended in a shit-show. But whenever anyone's really ever hurt your feelings, you never bit back during your shift. You did it afterwards, when you were off your shift, when you had nothing to lose.

Your manager loved you. Sweet and bubbly, never rude, only after shifts. You knew who to treat right, and you knew who to treat with just a decent amount of respect, never more than they deserved it. He loved it about you, besides, you reminded him a lot of his daughter. He stepped into the shop, he walked like he owned the shop. Blonde hair, tired eyes, you've seen his type before. And you hated it already. Just wanted to punch him in the face. You knew he was gonna be bitchy, maybe make a comment on your weight. You were prepared for all of it, even for your snappy comments. But that didn't stop you from being respectful at first, because even looks can lie. "Welcome to Whisk And Steam, what can I get started for you today, gentlemen?" You asked, noticing his friend behind him. Looked like a scot. "If anything, looks like we need to get YOU started on a weight loss journey," Looks like the "looks can lie" didn't hit this time. You really weren't in the mood for this, so you tried being nice again. That usually gets them to shut up. "I'm sorry sir, could you please order? You are keeping up the line." He chuckled and looked at you up and down. "No, you're keeping up the line. You're keeping up the whole place, lady. Isn't your manager afraid you're gonna eat everything on here?" You snapped. "Isn't your mom afraid you're gonna do drugs? With that look in your eyes, Coffee isn't the only thing you're addicted to." You crossed your arms and tilted your head. "Are you gonna order the fuck up, or are you gonna leave the store?" His eyes widened, and he swallowed. He was caught off guard for a second, he didn't expect you to snap back. "Feisty." He said, before continuing; "Looks like that mouth does do things other than eat. It can yap too." You grabbed him by the collar. "Listen here man I don't know who the fuck you think you are, either be respectful and nice, or just go. Seriously, you don't have to be an asshole just cause you don't feel good, and if you're gonna be like that anyway, can't you be a little more original? If you have such a big problem with my weight you can either-" And that's all he heard before he cut off. He looked at your lips while you talked and grabbed his collar, just couldn't keep his eyes off of you. How can he be manhandled into that? He couldn't keep his eyes off of your chest, either. So plump, soft.. How could he focus on anything else, when you were so close? Who cares if people see him ogling at a bigger girl, it's only normal. Who the fuck even cares? He wasn't even insulting you because he meant it. He was feeling in the mood to fuck with some people, but he found you attractive. Besides, bigger girl, more to love, more to grab, yeah? He wasn't the type of guy to say only dogs play with bones but... He sure as hell considered himself a hungry lion. He was wondering what your mouth could do, other than snap back. Hell he was imagining it, so bad... "- Or just leave! Which one's it gonna be?!" You asked, angrily, and that's what snapped him out of it. He stayed silent for a few seconds before leaning away from you and scratching the back of his head with an awkward smile. "..A date?"

A/N; something something very happy to be here ty for all the attention something something sorry this was rushed i have therapy tomorrow so i gotta scram</3

[weaselandfriends]

youve probably already mused about this in the past but do you think cascade could work as the actual ending of homestuck? like is there a way in which homestuck could be read as a complete narrative with a somewhat satisfying ending if we were to consider cascade or its whereabouts the place where it ends? how much retooling would it need to work that way? is it even possible?

Oh now we're getting the REAL asks.

From a technical standpoint, I actually think it's totally doable to do a cut of Homestuck where Cascade is more-or-less the ending. Homestuck doesn't have nearly as many load-bearing elements as it seems to have at first glance. For instance, I think even the trolls can be cut from Homestuck altogether with minimal structural harm, as long as Vriska's game-breaking role is shifted to Rose. Hussie claimed his original vision for the story was for Cascade to be the climax, and Act 6 to be a relatively short denouement that would mostly involve cleaning up loose ends. That actually tracks with where he left the comic when Cascade ended. The unresolved stuff at the end of Cascade is:

The Scratch has created a new universe, which the players are all heading to. This fresh universe is where they will be able to complete the game.

Lord English!

Lingering mysteries about the kids in the new universe, who have been hinted at a few times throughout Act 5 (most notably regarding Liv Tyler the bunny, which shows up with a note from Jake, IIRC).

Bec Noir is still around, even if neutralized by PM.

I'm pretty sure this is it, not counting one-off lines like Rose playing the rain that are pretty structurally nonessential and could be excised easily or brushed off with some lampshading ("Wow isn't it funny we never played the rain!" -- I think Hussie actually does specific one anyway). There are also a few hints that HIC might have a role in the new universe, but I would likewise describe these as nonessential.

Looking at this list, it's easy to see both why Hussie thought he could end the story quickly and why he failed to do it. With the powers at the disposal of the main cast, going into the new universe and completing the game should be trivial. Hussie probably thought he'd quickly introduce Jake, Jane etc. in a nostalgic callback to the beginning of the story, then round up everyone for a final fight against Lord English/Bec Noir/HIC to put some fireworks on the ending. Cascade really had trimmed down the expansiveness and complexity of the story significantly, which made these few lingering plot elements seem so surmountable.

In actuality, though, Hussie quickly became mired in introducing the new characters. I think his problem was that he was struggling to reengineer the emotional stakes of the story. There's a desperate reek in the early parts of Act 6 where he is pleading for readers to care about the new kids. With the original kids, he took his time introducing them and let their personalities emerge organically over infrequent chatlogs while most of the action centered on John-as-reader-insert doing dumbassery. With the trolls, Hussie treated them like jokes and gave them over-the-top personalities with ridiculous, murderous drama, which fit the speedrunny way he introduced them. But the new kids are in this limbo where he wants to get them working (like Jar Jar) quickly, yet is giving them personalities that are at worst nondescript and at best Dave 2: Davier. (Roxy is the exception here.) They wind up having a lot of very cute, very cloying chatlogs that read super forced and I wonder if their failure to immediately get off the ground is why Hussie felt the need to spend more time with them, linger on them, until Jake winds up with one of the highest line counts of any character in the story despite saying exactly 0 things of value total.

Worse, though, is the villain situation, because it's directly tied to the story's stakes. Hussie has to make Lord English a more significant threat than Bec Noir, despite working at base with only a few references to him from Spades Slick and Doc Scratch. It's from this we get the laborious cherub stuff, the expansive dream bubble stuff (Lord English being able to double-kill ghosts is his major establishing moment of threat), and the general need to make this whole section of Homestuck feel as weighty and monumental as the first half.

The problem with Cascade is that, even though it doesn't resolve the plot, is resolves pretty much all of the emotional stakes and tension in the story. The idea of going quickly from Cascade to a final fight makes sense on paper but it doesn't make sense emotionally. That final fight would wind up as flaccid-feeling as Collide eventually did feel. Hussie's kudzu-plant expanding Act 6 reads to me as an attempt to rebuild to the level of tension that existed before Cascade, one that eventually failed because he got tired with the project and phoned in the climax anyway.

So, getting back to the original question, I think if we're to end Homestuck at Cascade then it really needs to END at Cascade, narratively as well as emotionally. Cascade does an admirable job cutting down Homestuck's plot threads from 100 to 4, but it really needs to cut them down from 100 to 0. This is a lot trickier than it seems because Cascade is, in the context of the narrative, not a moment of victory but a moment of... quitting. It's hitting the in-universe reset button. It's triumphantly hitting that button, but it cannot actually achieve total plot resolution without fundamentally changing what it actually is.

You can slim things down. Lord English can, believe it or not, be cut entirely. Prior to Act 6 he exists only in a handful of lines. Doc Scratch can be reframed as the ultimate evil himself, rather than simply its servant. He already is a pretty good villain in his own right.

Bec Noir is trickier because there's not really a good opportunity for the heroes to fight him. I wonder how necessary that is, though. It's not like Homestuck was ever a story where things got resolved by flashy cinematic fights. PM getting the ring is a satisfying, climactic moment in its own right; does she have to get locked into eternal stalemate with Bec Noir? Can she maybe just defeat him the moment she gets the ring? It's an unconventional ending, but one that makes sense in the concept of Homestuck. Given Collide, that's probably a superior way for the climax to go anyway.

That leaves the new universe kids. They can also probably be cut pretty easily. I'm fairly certain Liv Tyler is the only direct contribution they make to the pre-Cascade story. It'd take some changes to account for that, but not many. Alternatively, since we already can't get past the fact that Cascade is just a reset button press and not a resolution in and of itself, we could leave them in as characters who show up, briefly, in an epilogue of sorts, framed solely through the POV of the original kids. (i.e., forgo all the "Your name is JANE CROCKER etc.) Maybe don't even give them lines. Leave it to the fandom to come up with their personalities.

The way I'm envisioning this is that we end the story as quickly as possible after Cascade, and by that I mean literally 15-20 pages where we show everyone speedrun the new universe with their incredible god powers, maybe with a few cathartic final conversations between the surviving members of the cast. The longer you go on post-Cascade, the longer you're going to be tempted to go on, to make its new elements breathe in their own right, and when you do that it's only a matter of time before you get sucked into the Act 6 Vortex of bringing back meaningful stakes, which you have to do from Ground Zero.

I'm actually a big fan of Act 6, which is where I feel like Hussie gets a lot meaner, a lot more combative with the readership, with some fascinating results. Most of Act 6's failures stem from the failure of its ending, which is a separate issue caused by Hussie losing interest in the project after the Hiveswap debacle. But if you're doing Act 6, you gotta really DO Act 6. You can't just do it halfway. All or nothing.

[fakeagatha]

Hi, could you write something with more submissive Agatha? Not like sexually as I know you don’t write that, but maybe needing the reader to take control of some aspects of her life and take care of her because she feels like there’s so much pressure on her and doesn’t want to be in control of everything? Thank you!

A/N: Thanks for the request anon! I assume you mean x reader so that's what I did. I hope this is okay!

Summary: During one of the weakly catch ups with your neighbor, you notice she seems off. You let her lose control for the night and take care of her.

Warnings: Intimacy, Romance, Bathing, Massaging

Word Count: 1712

AAA Community

Agatha was exhausted. 

One thing that Agatha was taught, is that she must be able to take care of herself. She should never rely on others, because that would make her weak and easily breakable.

She met you a few months ago after you moved in next door. You were much younger than her, and you claimed to have moved to New Jersey for new life experiences and opportunities.

The house next door was never lived in long term. It felt as in every month Agatha saw a moving truck, taking away furniture, then a couple days later it was bringing new boxes. One unbearable family with obnoxious children after the other.

When she saw you walking in with your suitcase, she was expecting a husband, or maybe a child to follow behind, but when one week passed and she saw that no other people appeared, she was intrigued. Your house was practically identical to hers, meaning there were three bedrooms. Why would you want all that space? She was nosy.

It started when you heard a sudden knock on your door one afternoon, disrupting you from the  shelf you were dusting. You sighed and stood up, looking through the peephole to see some random woman holding a plate.

You opened the door, looking at her expectantly, "Hello?"

"Hello dear, I'm Agatha, I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood." She smiled, handing out a plate of cookies.

You smirked, a week late? You raised an eyebrow, taking the plate from her, "Thank you. Would you like to come in?" You offered, and Agatha nodded.

"Absolutely!"

So that is how your weakly routine started. At least once a week, Agatha would come round to yours, or you would go next door, have dinner with a glass of wine and maybe watch a movie. It was fun, considering that you hadn't really met any people. You went to work in the mornings, and usually spent your evenings at home.

Friday night, Agatha had invited you over. She had cooked a wonderful risotto which must've taken her hours to make, served with a glass of red wine.

"This is delicious Agatha, thank you, you didn't have to do this." You smiled, taking another mouthful of food.

"It's no problem at all dear, my pleasure."

The rest of the meal was pleasant. You and Agatha exchanged short conversations up until she collected your empty plates and put them in the dishwasher. She insisted she needed no help cleaning up, so you waited for her in the living room.

It only took her a few minutes for her to join you on the couch, taking the remote and looking through Netflix for something to watch with you. You looked over at her, and noticed an unusual tiredness in her eyes.

"Are you feeling okay?"

Agatha turned to you, confusion elicited on her face, "Yeah, why?"

"I don't know, you seem tired." You shrugged, your gaze unmoving. 

She chuckled, then paused again, "I mean, I'm a little tired sure, but so is everyone else on the planet." 

Your brows furrowed, shaking your head, "What's going on?"

Agatha went to brush you off again, but her eyes locked on yours. "I just- I'm burnt out. I feel like there's not enough time in my day to do things." She sighed, "Sometimes it feels like my life is slowly falling apart. Almost as if I'm falling into some kind of spiral with no end." 

Agatha looked away from you, but you kept staring, "You could've told me if you were struggling, you know? I could've helped, even if that's doing some house work for you."

Agatha scoffed, shaking her head again, "I'd never ask you to clean my house."

"Then at least let me make you feel better."

Agatha froze, then sighed, "You don't need to, don't worry about it."

"No," You crawled closer to her, "Let yourself lose control for a little while."

Agatha frowned, biting her lip. She hated being vulnerable, and she hated relying on other people. Before she could protest again, you took her by the shoulders and turned her around carefully.

"What are-" She begun, and was cut off as she felt your hands massaging her. She closed her eyes, and let out an almost defeated sigh.

"I've seen how you always like to do everything. Most weeks, you insist on being the one to cook for us even after your eight hour shift."

"You also work eight hours." Agatha replied, and you chuckled.

"Yeah, but I work mornings. I have the rest of the day to relax, and then cook. You come home and insist on cooking right away."

She sighed again, pursing her lips, "I can't win against you, huh?"

"Nope." You smirked.

You kept massaging her shoulders, and she let out quiet sounds of pleasure every now and then. You could feel the tension in her muscles, and you worked your way through each one carefully.

"I know," You started, "I'll run you a bath." You stood up, and Agatha's eyes widened.

"What? No, I can't expect-"

You placed a finger to her lips, instantly silencing her. You shyly took her hand, and lead her to bathroom.

You stepped closer to the bathtub and turned on the tap. "Is this temperature okay?"

Agatha stood next to you and put her hand under the running water, "Perfect."

The tub filled surprisingly fast, but you didn't notice the linger of purple sparks, "That's not fair, your tap must be stronger than mine." You chuckled.

Agatha smirked, shrugging, "What can I say? Maybe my tap is magical."

You laughed again, taking a bubble mix and poured it in. Agatha gasped, "Bubbles? Seriously?"

"Yeah! Why not?" You grinned at her, "Right, I'll step outside so you can get in."

"Thank you."

You walked back into the hallway, closing the door behind you. You took a glance around her house, noticing the minimal and vintage looking decorations. You noticed a child's drawing on the back of a door, and you inspected it a little closer. It looked like two women holding the hands of a younger person, standing outside of a house. You smiled a little, wondering who might have drawn that for her.

"I'm ready!" Agatha called out, and your head whipped back around.

"You sure you want me in there with you?" You asked cautiously.

Agatha nodded, even though you couldn't see it, "Yeah."

You stepped back into the bathroom, and knelt down next to the tub, trying not to really look at her, "You sure it's warm enough?"

"I'm sure." She nodded, "Thank you, Y/N."

You smiled back at her, and your gaze moved to a basket filled with bath bombs.

"Do you want one of these?" You asked eagerly, and Agatha nodded in agreement.

You looked through the basket and pulled out a cherry scented one. You unwrapped it, and held it up to Agatha to see before dropping it into the tub.

Agatha watched as the color began to spread through the water, turning it completely red.

"Jeez, how strong are these?" You chuckled, "It smells great."

Agatha hummed, inhaling, "Yeah. I make sure to get the best kind."

You smiled at her, taking a look the things she had placed along the walls of the bathtub. Agatha bit her lip, looking up at you. "... Could you... Wash my hair?"

You froze for a second and your face heated up, but you nodded. "Of course."

Agatha smiled and turned around as you picked up a vanilla scented shampoo. You placed it down next to you, and you started scooping up some water in your hands and wetting her hair while she leaned her head back. You opened up the bottle and poured some shampoo into your palm, before starting to run the soap through Agatha's hair from top to bottom.

You could hear Agatha's heavy breathing the entire time. Neither of you spoke, and just enjoyed each other's silence. You were convinced Agatha could probably fall asleep with her head up with how much she seemed to like it.

Once her hair was completely lathered with soap, you took the shower head and turned it onto a low power, carefully rinsing her hair. "Keep your eyes closed." You reminded, and she nodded slightly.

You washed everything out, making sure to avoid getting anything in her eyes. Once it was completely rinsed, Agatha turned back around to face you, smiling softly. "Thank you..."

"There's no need to thank me." You replied, your gaze lingering on her for a moment.

Agatha suddenly put her hand on your cheek, leaning closer as if asking for permission, which you responded by pressing your lips against hers. They were surprisingly soft, a sense of longing radiating off of her.

She pulled away looking into your eyes with a slight blush. "Do you want to spend the night here?" Her breath hitched, and you matched her blush.

"Yeah, I'd love that."

Agatha smiled, then signaled that she was ready to come out of the bath. You stepped out of the room once again, and waited for her in her living room. You were smiling to yourself, having a strange feeling that you might have been dreaming.

Agatha came out a few minutes later in pajamas, but she was holding a second pair. "Do you want to change? Or would you rather go and get your own pair?"

Your heart swelled at her, and you accepted the clothes. Your fingers grazed her arm as you took them, and quickly changed out of your clothes in her bathroom.

By the time you came back out, Agatha called you from upstairs, "I'm in here!"

You grinned, walking up the stairs and peeking through each door to find her bedroom. When you did, she was already in bed, a remote in her hand.

"You never said you had a television up here too." You smirked, climbing into the bed next to her.

She chuckled and nodded, shuffling closer to you. She went to wrap an arm around you, but you stopped her, wrapping yours around her instead. She leaned into you, resting her head on your shoulder.

"Thank you for tonight... I needed it."

You silently placed a kiss on her cheek in return, as she pressed play on a movie she had chosen.

Agatha was tired.

Though she tried to stay conscious for the whole film, she ended up falling asleep on your chest. You smiled as you watched her for a moment, and she looked truly at peace. You turned the volume down slightly, and it didn't take much longer for you to fall asleep with Agatha in your arms.

[oldqueergrandma]

Everyone's experience has nuance, so here is mine;

While I was in high school, I was having a pretty good time. I had a circle of friends besides my one Worstie. I outsmarted a couple of scheduling problems so that I could take instrumental music, vocal music, and art electives each year. I'd started going to SF/Conventions so I'd found My People and my world was already a lot bigger than my high school.

It wasn't until later that I saw how seriously fucked up my life was then. Why I busted my ass to go to college four hours away, and then just collapsed. That drive I had in high school evaporated on me. I was free, and I didn't really understand what that meant.

Some years later, after he went through a lot of therapy, my (3 years younger) brother asked me if I could pinpoint "when things at home got really bad."

My reply was that they got steadily worse. I could really see it when I flunked out of college and had to move back home the following year.

For him, that year I went away marked the "Worst" year. And I just stared at him and very softly said, "And why do you think that? What was different about that year?"

I watched him connect the dots at last. "You weren't there... To protect me."

"And I'm sorry."

Now, we didn't have a horror story.

We weren't beaten, or starved. We weren't forced to work part-time jobs while in school to feed the family. My brothers were allowed to play sports and I was allowed to pursue art.

But we were being emotionally abused, financially abused, and watching our parents' descent into their own miserable madness.

High school is when you start to see the bigger picture. High school is when many of us start to see what kind of cage we have been living in.

And, for some people, they don't experience that awareness. They love it so much because it's the only time in their lives when the ratio of freedoms-to-Responsibilities is favorable. And they spend their life reliving those Glory Days.

But I gotta tell you, and tell you truly:

It gets better. It's going to get better in ways that you might not even know about. You are going to become the manager of your own affairs, and that means you're going to get to make choices about the shape of your life.

High school *can* be practice for figuring out your life. But once you're no longer being monitored, you have only yourself to answer to.

If your life right now is miserable, try to find a space in your mind to decide what you want it to be like.

One day, you will be able to curate your experiences fully.

Maybe you won't have a mansion to live in, but an apartment. If you need personal space that is really private, promise yourself now that you'll work toward that goal. (Ditto for a house full of fun roommates, a dorm room all tricked out with a loft, or house with a yard.)

One day, you will be able to curate your friend group, based on people you like, who are supportive and fun. You won't be thrown together with randos who happen to live nearby and were born the same year.

One day, you won't have to sneak around to date. One day, you can make your own choices (including not to date.)

Life is a great adventure. Consider me the wizard walking through the door to inform you that you're special. That there is great peril, but also great rewards ahead. It is dangerous to go alone.

But take my hand. Everything will turn out right in the end.

what a beautiful day to not be in high school

[sarnai4]

greek pantheon in the family group chat?

(LOVE that! Okay, let's get into this)

Hestia: Hello! Just checking in on everybody :D! How are you doing?

Athena: Auntie, this is a group chat.

Hestia: I know, Sweetie. We never get a chance to talk in-person anymore, so I thought this could help.

Apollo: I foresee this going badly.

Ares: You don't need to be a prophet to do that

Hermes: Being a prophet might not help him. He didn't foresee me stealing his cows. HAhaha

Apollo: Dad! He admitted it!

Zeus: TBH I always knew. I just thought it was funny.

Hestia (typing)

Apollo: You've got to smite him or something.

Artemis: Come on, Pol. Don't expect Dad to fix all your problems.

Hephaestus: Didn't you literally run crying into his arms when Hera hit you?

Artemis (has left the chat)

Hermes: I bet she's on her way over to you again Dad

Ares: If she is, can I come too? You keep not responding to any of my texts and I had something I wanted to ask you

Ares: Dad? Are you ignoring me AGAIN?

Athena: I'd wager, yes.

Ares: It's a group chat! How are you going to pretend like I'm not here??

Zeus (typing)

Ares: Okay good.

Zeus: Hera, are you coming home early tonight?

Ares: >:(

Athena: You still have me.

Ares: Mean it?

Athena: At this moment anyway

Hestia (typing)

Hera: You two, cut it out. I'm trying to respond to your father.

Ares: Sorry

Athena: Sorry

Hera: Why do you want to know if I'll be in early?

Zeus (typing)

Hera: Are you trying to bring someone to MY home?

Poseidon: LOL

Zeus (stops typing)

Hestia: Maybe this is a topic that you two should discuss in a private chat.

Hera: ARE THEY ALREADY THERE ZEUS??

Poseidon: Also also are they cute? If so send pics. Sharing is caring :)

Hera: You stay out of this! Zeus, are you going to answer me or not? I see that you're still in this cat.

Zeus: Something came up. I've got to go. (has left the chat)

Demeter: Very classy of you.

Dionysus: Hera, I can make you a drink if it would make you feel better

Hera: It might

Demeter: Make two please. It's about to be winter. HADES

Hades: I'd really rather not be involved in this

Demeter: I'd rather not spend the winter away from my daughter. Guess we're BOTH unhappy now.

Hades (has left the chat)

Demeter: I know where you live!

Hephaestus: He can't see this text until he gets back

Demeter: He'll see me a lot sooner

Hestia: No one ever actually answered my question about how they were doing.

Hestia: Are you still there?

Athena: I tried to warn you that this wouldn't work.

Hestia: Maybe it can work another time. Should we try this again tomorrow?

Everyone: NO

[mang0d0ll]

Bob's Lonely Hearts Club

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: bob's all alone on valentines day. but not for much longer.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 1.6k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ includes: fluff, fem main character, negative self-talk, morale boosting, fem mc becomes bobs hype man, implied sex, mentions of alcohol and drinking, bob gets kinda tipsy, hangman is kind of a douchebag but whats new

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ a/n: this is my first full fic on tumblr!! YYYAAAAAYYYY im so excited that its here! this idea has been collecting dust in my brain and my notes app literally since tgm came out in 2022, but im just so proud of myself for actually writing this and putting it out in the world. enjoy <333333

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE REPOSTED OR FED INTO AI

Bob wouldn't really classify himself as a loner.

Sure he was quiet, preferring to take a back seat to the rambunctious chatter and lighthearted bickering the rest of his teammates were always up to, but they always included him in the conversation. Hangman particularly enjoyed ribbing him with jokes about his mouse-like demeanour, until Bob would throw some smack talk of his own, making the group erupt with laughter.

But tonight was different. It was Valentine's, and Bob was - by all accounts - a loner.

There were other patrons scattered across the Hard Deck, but nowhere near the regular amount on a typical Friday night.

He hadn't even realised the romantic holiday was coming up. It wasn't until a week prior when Fanboy hollered that he'd scored a date with someone he'd been chatting up on Bumble; his booming voice causing Bob’s pool cue to completely miss the ball.

From then on, it was all he heard from the Daggers. Payback had a dinner planned with his long-term partner, Rooster was going out with a woman he'd been casually seeing, and Coyote nonchalantly declared that he'd have no problem heading into town and picking up a cute chick on the day itself.

Hangman had let it slip that he and Phoenix were going to a drive-in cinema together, but any cheeky remarks from the rest of the team were left unsaid at the heat of Phoenix’s glare.

So there Bob was, sitting at the bar on Valentine's, nursing a drink and musing over everything he could've been doing instead. With the complexities and demands of his job, he'd rarely given much thought to his romantic life. Boy, was he regretting it.

His eyes bore into the random sports match playing on the bar’s TV, his brain only registering the vibrant colours and fast-paced movements.

"Hey, Bob."

A melodious voice broke him out of his daze. Behind the counter stood everyone's favourite, sweet-as-sugar Hard Deck employee. She gave him a small smile as she wiped down glasses and put them aside.

"Fancy seeing you here tonight. Thought you'd have somewhere more important to be."

His head tilted, like a curious puppy, making her giggle.

"Y'know, cause it's Valentine's?"

"Right!" Bob exclaimed. "Yeah, no, no plans. I don't have anywhere else to be, so..." His voice trailed off as her warm smile struck his soul. With sweaty palms, he raised his glass and took a swig of his drink.

"That's a surprise," she said.

"It is?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "I thought you'd have a cute date or something."

Bob's eyes widened and he quickly choked out a laugh, "Me? Oh, no, no I'm flattered but I'm not..." A wave of nausea rushed through his body - the words sticking to his throat. "I'm not really the ask-out-women type," he said as he stared into his glass. "Never been good at it."

And maybe it was the alcohol making him feel all fuzzy. Maybe it was the bar's dim lighting setting the mood. Or maybe it was the feeling of being almost alone with the attention of the stunning bartender-slash-waitress he maybe, sort of, definitely, had a crush on.

Something in the situation just made him feel... different. Trusting. Honest.

"I'm not confident like the rest of them," he confessed. "Hangman, Rooster, Coyote, they see someone they like and have no problem approaching them. Even if they didn't, there are plenty of people who come up and offer their numbers all the time. But I can't do that. Can't bring myself to talk to anybody like that. I'm not suave or charming like they are. Not cool or confident. I don't stand out in a crowd or attract any eyes from across the room. I'm just the guy in the background no one gives two cents about. Boring ol' Bob."

A silence hung between them, the static sports commentator voice floating through the air.

A tsunami of emotions whirled through him. On one hand, a weight had been lifted off him- a cathartic thrum in his chest at finally voicing the thoughts that'd tormented him for years. On the other hand, the admission of his feelings only made them more real and ever apparent to him. A dark cloud over his head, doomed to follow him.

"Excuse me?" she spat.

His head snapped up to find her eyes ablaze.

"Do you really think that?"

His mouth opened and closed like a fish but no words came out. Thankfully for him, she didn't give him time to reply.

"Bob, you’re an amazing person. You're kind, and sweet, and thoughtful. You're always there for others, helping them even when they don’t ask for it. You carry your friends out when they're too drunk to walk. You listen to them rant about their work and lives. And when you're here during closing you insist on helping us clean up; stacking the chairs and storing crates in the back. You’re this guardian angel looking out for everyone around you.

So what if you're not like Rooster or Hangman? Why would you wanna be anyone else anyways? You're an amazing person all on your own and you show it everyday."

Bob felt an overwhelming heat engulf his body. It was as though he'd stood at the entrance of an active volcano for a decade.

“You really think that?” he squeaked out.

“Yes! And if girls don't see that then screw them. Anyone with a functioning brain cell would be lucky to go out with you.”

Bob smiled shyly, "Well, I'm flattered-"

"I mean, you're literally a dream!" She continued, hands frantically wiping glasses and setting them down with a low thud. "Not only are you kindhearted but you're a dream to look at. It's honestly criminal how fit you are with your glasses making you look so cute, and kissable, and..."

Her voice trailed off as their eyes locked and she registered Bob's tomato-red face. Bob's heart pounded in his ears.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Bob wouldn't really classify himself as brave.

Sure he'd had a rare, unexpected surge of bravery when he joined the military - shocking everyone that knew him - but everything that came after was simply part of the job. Each day of suffering through grueling training to become a WSO had nothing to do with his bravery, but rather his tenacity and determination to show everyone what he could accomplish. What he was made of.

Buf in this moment, a rare moment in his life, Bob chose to be brave.

"What time do you get off from work?" he asked.

"Soon. In about an hour."

"And... do you have any plans after?"

"I was just gonna go home," she blushed, a smile painting across her face. "But you're most welcome to come with me."

"So Bob, how was your Valentine's?"

The Dagger Squad's chatter quieted down at Hangman's sudden question. The sounds of the Hard Deck filling the silence between them.

"It was good," Bob replied, leaning against a pillar and doing his best to act casual.

"Really? Get up to anything fun?"

"Stop it," Phoenix chided.

"What? I'm just asking," Hangman laughed, gliding about the pool table and lining up his shot as if he wasn't interrogating his teammate. "Wanna know if Baby-on-Board spent the night alone like I said he would."

The crack of his cue against the ball came as a comical sound effect to the shock everyone was smacked in the face with. Phoenix shook her head in disbelief and mouthed a 'sorry' to her WSO, which he waved off with an understanding smile.

"Well Hangman, since you're so desperate to know, I came here on Valentine's. And while I did start out alone, I ended up going home with someone."

Everyone's heads whipped towards him.

"No shit. Seriously?" Hangman chuckled. "Who is she? Who had the honour of being our Bobby's companion. Is she even real?"

It was at this time that she walked over to them, empty tray in hand. The woman who'd occupied Bob's head 24/7 ever since the night they shared together a week prior. The woman he'd confided in and poured his heart out to. The woman who held him and kissed his doubts away all night long. Her lips soft against his smooth skin, the heat of her body melded against his.

She moved with grace as she motioned for the team's empty glasses and bottles, everyone giving her polite smiles as she passed. Bob allowed his eyes to trail after her before turning his attention back to Hangman.

"I can assure you she is very real. She's an amazing woman, full of kindness and love. Adorable to boot. Honestly, I'm over the freaking moon that she even wants my company."

Their eyes met as she got closer to Bob, still pretending to be completely unaffected by the conversation at hand. Picking up the last empty bottle, she began to walk pass Bob to get back to the kitchen.

"And I'm most definitely taking her home with me tonight," Bob declared. Just as she passed, Bob raised his hand and let it fall with a swift smack! to her behind.

Jumping back in shock with a loud yelp, she turned to Bob, ready to tell him off, only to be met with his cheeky smirk and smitten eyes.

She huffed and glared at him, though there was no real heat behind her eyes. "We're leaving as soon as my shift is over."

"Yes ma'am," Bob smiled.

She scurried away as she failed to suppress the smile growing on her face.

He stared at her retreating figure unashamedly as the rest of the Daggers began whooping and hollering.

"Dude! No way!"

"How'd you pull her? What did you say?"

"My man! Knew you had that dog in ya!"

Their words fell on Bob's deaf ears, his head preoccupied with counting down to when he could finally leave with the woman of his dreams.

[knife-enby]

i wanted to reblog this post with prev's addition because i do think it's important to acknowledge and is actually very true

i don't want to pretend this problem isn't a capitalism thing -- it is. nobody feels like they can rest because capitalism is an absolute failure of an economic system that is harming every social facet of our lives

but that doesn't mean we're individually helpless!

social media is part of the whole aforementioned toxic capitalism society. it's DESIGNED to be a time-killing, brain-numbing, anger-fueling, advertisement-feeding machine. and a lot of people struggle with it, me included! it's especially the easier option when you're already burned out, can't focus on your hobbies, etc etc. you can directly track how well i'm doing with how often i'm on tumblr, 'cause the worse i feel, the more i'm here.

ok but then there's the inverse of that: the better i feel, the less i'm here.

it wont work for everyone and it wont fix the society we live in, but everyone deserves as much relief as they can get. so if you feel like you're constantly out of time and you're also regularly on social media, consider trying to replace some of your social media time with other activities

if you use social media time to rest/relax, i get that, and also consider it's usually not actually relaxing HAHA. it's just that you can kinda turn your brain off for it. heres some 'turn your brain off' activities ive been trying to do instead of social media:

lay in bed listening to music and holding something soft (stuffed animal, blanket, pillow, etc)

go stand outside and look at nature for a few minutes

do some light stretches

fill a piece of paper up with loose doodles. try not to care about what they look like, we're not making art here we're just getting our brains unstuck

paint your nails

ok in conclusion: capitalism as a whole needs to change Soon And In Major Ways but in the mean time, there are most likely ways to improve the way you currently feel. i believe in you :3

[alexanderlightweight]

Happy Wednesday 💜

Was hoping you might feel up to continuing cat boy Alec, or something where despite the fact Alec is obviously competent he's still getting pulled around by Magnus games/whims....because he wants to be (aware of this want or not).... Let's be honest he wouldn't enjoy it or even put up with it for just anyone ...

Looking forward to reading anything you feel inspired to write.

it has been a bit but I am back and here we go! this is time skip to after alec has finished up with Magnus at pandemonium and gone back to the institute after the entire team of six nephilim clave hunters died and Magnus got his debt paid in full by Alec.

I hope you enjoy <3

lumine

-

maybe i'm the villain

Magnus is not expecting him.

That’s the delightful thing.

Oh he is expecting him, but not yet.  Not less than twelve hours since they last met and certainly not in a different way than the one Magnus engineered to happen.

But there Alexander is, leaning against his balcony railing.

“Hello kitten.” 

Magnus has been ready since his wards first pinged the familiar energy and he reaches for Alexander only to be ignored.

Oh Alexander greets him, he gets close enough to share Magnus warmth and for his tail to loop endearingly around Magnus’ wrist and Alexander practically purrs as he blatantly scent marks Magnus.

And then he’s gone.

Pulling back as if he has any business taking himself from Magnus' reach and instead Magnus finds himself holding shadowhunter weapons — of all things. And a rather heavy duffel that Magnus expects are simply more weapons.  It certainly seems feasible if the way Alexander just smiles coyly and steps past him is supposed to make any sense.

You don’t enter a dragon’s lair without surrendering all your weapons, no matter how fond that dragon is of you.

Magnus blinks, twice just to make sure the image of Alexander setting the two bags he did not hand Magnus down on the ground hasn’t gone anywhere.

“Alexander, are you certain you want what you’re getting yourself into?” Magnus asks to be fair.

Because he’s a dragon and he won’t be fair ever again and if Alexander needs a reminder then that is what Magnus will give. As the old oaths demand of any living being entering the protection of a primordial.

This one last time.

“I’m a full Commander and was nearly an Institute head.  I understand what surrendering myself and my weapons and willingly entering a dragon’s lair means.  I even have a suspicion of what it means when someone who the dragon is fond of does it.”

Magnus lets the balcony doors slide shut behind him and the wards to recenter because Alexander has made it clear he knows what is going on.

“I thought it would take you a bit longer to come back to me  .” Because Alexander was always going to return to Magnus. As nice of a surprise as this is, Alexander is still in for one of his own later. 

It amuses Magnus to think it will happen here, in his lair.

“Apparently not everyone who signed up for that mission knew and was okay with being fodder in a punishment for someone else. The people they left behind aren’t happy either. Which isn’t my problem but the pressure of the people pressuring me is now doubled.”

Magnus snaps away the bags and the weapons that Alexander has brought, they can be dealt with later. And the moment he sits on the couch he is delightfully surprised when Alexander sprawls out on it, pillowing his head on Magnus’ lap without any prompting or words.

He looks up and his eyes dilate longingly, similar to when Magnus’ own pupils dilate with want and Magnus runs sharp talons through his hair until a contented purr rumbles through Alexander down through Magnus thighs.

“What was the punishment for?” Because Magnus knows the Clave enough to see that they were attempting to play at several things.  They’d used the mission to try and remind Alexander that he was barely more than fodder, that he could be thrown away quite easily. The other was undoubtedly some new reason they either wanted Magnus’ attention or were hoping to shift some kind of blame upon him.

“Not getting married and having babies. They don’t like that I’m not already adding to my bloodline.”

Alexander says it so simply but Magnus can smell the agonized rage of the mere thought from Alexander and his fingers tighten, earning a purring nuzzle against his belly.

“I figured it was a play of time and chance. How many times would the Clave risk time and resources reminding me I am replaceable before I either really became replaceable? Or before I caved? Or before I became powerful enough to push back?”

Alexander sighs and he looks exhausted, eyes dark and haunted.

“The Clave can call you a ‘horned lizard putting on airs’ all they want.” 

Magnus snorts at that, because that was a clever bit on Catarina’s part.  More so in how unbelievable it is and yet how eager the Clave is to believe it.

“But I know better. I could actually get what I want with you. Because you’d give it to me. And I don’t have to worry about trying to survive the missions they’re going to keep throwing at me. You gave me a way to find you again, to find you lair. I didn’t take that lightly.” Alexander blushes a bit at that but not from shame, probably just from the memory of how thoroughly Magnus ruined him for any other on their first meeting.

In front of dozens.

Having Alexander bringing himself here, intending to stay put exactly as Magnus intends to keep him is a treat.

As fun as a chase can be, Magnus has already claimed Alexander. It makes sense to his instincts and his pride that Alexander understands that.

“So you’re sweetly surrendering yourself to me? You understand your place here?” Magnus isn’t surprised by Alexander accepting the first question with ease but hesitating on the wording of the latter.

“You’re a part of my hoard, Alexander. A beloved treasure that I was loath to see the back of you but well, the strongest of dragon magicks work best with the willing when living. I’ll keep you sated here, safe too. The Clave played hard and fast with your life today and we both know it, darling.”

In his own way, Alexander had been burning with the need to escape from his fate and Magnus' own flame of desire had fed off that passion.

-

AN:

i hope this conveys that Alec was going to end up going back to Magnus one way or another and Magnus knew it. it's just really enticing to him that Alec came not even half a day later and handed himself completely over to Magnus.

yes it might be survival of the fittest and Alec going with what's going to keep him alive but that also really appeals to a huge part of magnus' dragon instincts.

alec is also being a natural little shit and making himself at home because he's going to make himself comfortable right up until Magnus draws the line and then he'll dip his toes over it a few times to figure out just how solid that line is. in cat ways! he doesn't yet realize that the more he tries to find a line to step over the more Magnus is erasing any possible lines.

so Alec also doesn't really that he's just endearing himself more and more to Magnus (not that he'd mind if he did know) since

it's not mentioned but Magnus let Alec go back to the Institute after the six deaths and the vows/payment were complete. as hinted there is an extra vow/payment that Alec missed that Magnus also refers to in this chapter that Alec hasnt figured out yet.

alec also knows that if he missed any transactions with Magnus, the best thing to do is find out about them around Magnus. he's not stupid, he just doesn't have political clout or any family power backing him because of his parents sins and so he knows he's expendable. so his choices within the clave are extremely limited. Magnus is a path out and even if Alec owes him something, it can't be worse than what alec's already dealing with in his opinion.

[nquesoxlies]

https://www.tumblr.com/nquesoxlies/782011950331772928/httpswwwtumblrcomnquesoxlies7820080930400665?

They do not owe us anything??? Listen, I like a good comfort media as much as the next guy but you (anon and everyone else bitching) are not the sole intended audience. Every story is gonna have shit you don't agree with. Not every story is personally for you. It's not going to be to your taste, because taste is subjective and you're not entitled to or owed anything. Even if a show changes, eight seasons in. That's honestly just the nature of storytelling. You can either come to terms with that and enjoy what you can, you can come to terms with that and respectfully disengage with the media that is apparently upsetting you so much, or you can spend the rest of your life letting your expectations of media hurt you to what seems like a genuinely bizarre extent. If you choose to do that last one, then fine, but stop making it everyone else's problem.

Like, honestly, don't get me wrong. I have comfort characters. I have comfort media. But people just have to get out of the mindset that everything is meant to be to their taste, especially when it comes to media that's written and produced with studio backing. I'm sorry. You just have to. You can be upset by Bobby's death and still be a rational human being. It is possible. It's meant to be sad and devastating, it's meant to be a tragedy, it's MEANT to make you feel. But it wasn't done to spite you specifically. It's a story. It's fictional. Please, for the love of god, learn how to interact with media in a healthy way, my God.

(Obviously not aimed at you, queso)

This

[lover-of-mine]

I’m so sorry because I’m sure your getting a million of these but…

I tried going through the blue and green posts your reblogged (Thank you 🙏🙏🙏) but I’m still a little confused I think-?

Are we not applying the break up something negative context to Buck in green? Because the Blue and Green itself had a different context then just him in green by itself? And then I saw you say it’s him in green and Eddie in blue for a change. So what would Buck in green and Eddie in blue be symbolism? And by that I guess I mean like in the context of blue and green what does Buck wearing green instead of Eddie, mean for him? (he’s trying to be strong? Hiding his emotions? Falling apart?) and same with what does Eddie on this context of wearing blue instead of green mean for him? (He’s holding it together, he’s a mess, etc etc)

I hope this makes any sense 😅😅 I’m trying so hard to grasp the color theory of it all I swear 😭

I mean, blue on Eddie is not nearly as odd as Buck in green. The problem is that everyone grabbed at the breakup green and won't see the bigger picture of Buck being in green. He's usually being misguided in his feelings and there's a bigger problem involved that Buck is not dealing with. I can't help but think about the coma dream and the feeling of losing Bobby nearly killing Buck. In green. We know Buck is gonna be hanging on by a thread but Bobby told him the team would need him, so I can see that being Buck hiding his own grief for the greater good, especially because Ravi is there and we know Ravi was struggling already. I'm gonna write a more detailed thing on the blue and green for buddie specifically later, but there's a chance that the blue and green is just about visually grouping them as a couple, if for instance we get the other couples in blue and green like in 613 and 706, while they go through their own individual arcs in their own feelings.

[bloggerspam]

Jon's not stupid.

He knows, with the kind of certainty you have that Batman knows everything and Superman is always there to help, that he's not stupid.

He knows this because Damian has never once called him stupid since the start of their friendship.

Damian has called him careless to the point of stupidity, thoughtless and brash, but he has not once called Jon stupid.

And Damian never lies.

So when Aunt Maddie tattles to Cousin Jazz about Dad being Superman, Jon does the only reasonable and responsible thing he can think of:

He texts Damian.

"You can't just out people like this, Mom!" Cousin Jazz is hissing, making a helpless face at Aunt Maddie.

"Oh don't worry honey," Aunt Maddie waves off her daughter's concern, gesturing to the empty backyard. "Most everyone is in your Aunt Caroline's living room, watching your cousin's little play from last Spring."

"I hardly think that's going to give Uncle Clark any comfort," Cousin Jazz grits out, fists clenching. "Considering his nieces and nephew now know his secret identity."

"I'm teaching him a lesson, Jazz." Aunt Maddie says in a reasonable tone. It's the kind of tone that Mom uses when Dad is in trouble. "He's always been so bad at hiding his meta-status, being careless about his superhero identity is the the icing on the cake."

Damian has already messaged back, which makes Jon feel so much better. He's demanding more information, which suits Jon just fine. Questions, he can answer.

"This'll teach him to be more careful." Aunt Maddie continues, walking over and yanking on Dad's white collared shirt. The bright blue, red, and yellow of his Superman suit peeks through real bright from where the buttons have popped open. "I mean, really Clark, under your very white shirt? At a family reunion??"

Dad sputters, jerking back and hastily buttoning up his shirt. Jon can see Mom with her face in both her hands, Ma patting her consolingly behind Dad a couple feet away.

"Doesn't Superman have super speed?" Ellie tilts forward, looking over at Jon from where she stands on the other side of Kon. "Why's he gotta wear it under his clothes?"

"Exactly, darling." Aunt Maddie coos at Ellie, beckoning her over and crouching down to meet her height. "This is just Mommy helping! Uncle Clark is the fool thinkin' glasses and sloppy suits are a good enough disguise."

Cousin Jazz turns to Cousin Danny, gesturing expansively at Aunt Maddie in a see! See!!! motion.

Cousin Danny bites his lip, puts his hands up in surrender. "Okay, yes, I see what you mean now."

"You are your mother's son." Cousin Jazz groans, clawing her own face in exasperation.

"Hey," Cousin Danny protests, "She's your mom too, remember?"

"How could I not?" Cousin Jazz rolls her eyes, stomping over to Aunt Maddie and lightly shooing Ellie back to where Jon is.

"Who are you texting?" Ellie asks when she arrives. Cousin Danny and Kon are bickering now, about who is worse at keeping secrets and making bets on when Mom will join the fray. Ma seems to be consoling her, so Jon lets it be and plops onto the grass.

"My best friend." Jon answers as Ellie flops down next to him. She doesn't peek over, which is nice, but instead lays her head in his lap.

"Oh." Ellie curls up, unthinkingly and almost dreamily, "I've never had a best friend before."

Jon freezes, looking down at his cousin. He thought maybe she was his age, but maybe she's younger? Ellie's real nice, and she didn't seem to have a problem playing with the other baby cousins, maybe her school is bad like Jon's was before he got transferred to Gotham Academy?

Cousin Jazz had said Ellie got her powers through very private circumstances. Maybe they were bad circumstances. Jon texts this information to Damian too.

Damian has been slowly getting the whole picture of the situation from Jon through a series of questions. It's fun for Jon, like he's talking to Akinator, the mind reading genie. Only Damian is way better at it because Jon doesn't know what the answer is, but Damian still always gets it right.

Jon tries to imagine what Damian would look like in Genie clothes. He thinks he'd look good in them. Damian looks good in almost everything. He's seen Damian in those fancy LOA clothes before, and Nanda Parbat is kind of where djinn stories are from right? He'll have to ask Damian, he doesn't want to accidentally be culturally insensitive.

"I can be your friend." Jon finally says, shaking off images of Damian in a Princess Jasmine outfit. He'd be really mad at Jon for thinking that, so he tries really hard not to. Not that he'd ever tell him, but sometimes Jon thinks Damian has mind-reading powers. "Give me your phone number."

"Can cousins be friends?" Ellie asks, though she does give him her number. He sends a cat meme he saw last night as his first message. "I've been homeschooled, but Jazz says I should at least give school a try."

"School's okay." Jon shrugs, watching at Cousin Danny and Kon kind of devolve into wrestling in the grass. Cousin Jazz is still scolding Aunt Maddie about the right to privacy, and Mom has taken Dad by the ear to whisper shout. "Maybe you can ask if you can go to Gotham Academy with me, I can fly you out, pick you up every morning."

"Maybe." Ellie looks skeptical though, and most of all sleepy and unbothered by the chaos around her. Jon takes off his jacket to cover her, rests a hand on the nape of her neck the way he would with Krypto. It seems to settle her. "I dunno. I'm not good at being human."

"I think you're doing alright." Jon consoles as he reads the newest text from Damian. "Damian says hello, by the way."

"You're half alien, so I only half believe you." Ellie jokes, yawning and cuddling up under his jacket, "Tell Damian I said hi back."

Jon does so obligingly.

He listens with half an ear on everyone, relaying info and answering questions to Damian via increasingly curt texts. His best friend is getting irate, and judging by the buzzing happening in Kon's jacket (left abandoned about three feet away, having been tossed off in the tussle he and Cousin Danny are engaged in) Tim's probably annoyed too.

Kon still isn't really used to using phones, he's never really needed to until he joined Young Justice. Even then, he's more used to comms than he is of an actual phone. The Kents have taken to just calling Kon verbally, and having one-sided conversations with him that way until the teen inevitably gets frustrated and flies over to talk face-to-face.

The Wayne kids tend to keep info from Uncle Bruce as best they can, so Jon anticipates Dad will be getting a phone call (or, more probably an irate grunt from the Cave in Gotham) from Uncle Bruce in about half an hour.

Damian's really annoyed that Uncle Bruce is so nosey, but Jon's always found it relieving.

Damian is really smart so they usually can handle whatever mission they set themselves upon, and Jon's practically invulnerable so he can totally protect Damian if his super ninja assassin training somehow fails. They've had some close calls but so far it's been relatively okay.

So Jon understands why Damian is so mad about it, since clearly they can take care of themselves even if they get in over their heads sometimes. It's just nice, is all. Jon likes having a back up plan, likes that if something happened, Dad or Uncle Bruce would rescue them.

He knows that's a luxury, and he knows it's not a foolproof plan. He's not that naive.

But he likes it, is all. He's still young—they're still young. He can let himself rely on his Dad a little longer.

Another text comes in just as Cousin Danny and Kon tumble to a stop on the grass. They're breathing heavily, spread like starfishes, and seem to be finally conversating like normal people.

Damian has asked him to do something, so Jon puts his phone down to stare at the warm conundrum covering his legs.

It feels illegal to move, with Ellie's head in his lap and lightly napping. Like when a cat or dog sits on you—it feels contractually binding. But Damian said Jon has to clean up the adult's messes, Cousin Jazz looks one moment away from tearing her hair out and Cousin Danny and Kon are deep in conversation about something now, so it's up to Jon.

Maybe Ellie can help? He texts Damian, who replies almost immediately with a complying fine, make sure to ask your Aunt for Ellie's jacket.

This is what he likes most about Damian, even though he complains a lot he cares a whole lot more.

"Ellie." Jon whispers, shaking her shoulder a little. She grumbles a bit, blinking up at him. He points at where Aunt Maddie and Dad are still arguing, this time about some incident that happened in elementary school. "I need to go fix that."

Ellie sighs, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. "Can I come?"

"Yeah." Jon grabs his jacket from where it's slipped onto the grass and puts it over her shoulders. "Damian said you can help but you gotta keep this on and hold my hand for full effect."

"Okay." Ellie floats up, extending a hand to him and waits patiently for Jon to float up to a stand as well. "Do you need me to cry too?"

"No, you can do that?" Jon pockets his phone, whispering as they make their way over. "Damian said to look as innocent as possible."

"Yeah, I'm real good at manipulating my body to do stuff." Ellie whispers back, this time with a more alert and mischievous smile.

"Cool." Jon smiles back, before they both put on unassuming kid faces as they come to a stop just beside their parents. He coughs. "Aunt Maddie?"

Aunt Maddie stops mid-sentence, blinking at them before smiling and crouching down. "Yes sweetie?"

"My best friend, Damian? He, uhm…" Jon scuffs his shoe, Ellie doing her job and looking up at her mom curiously beside him. "He wants to know why you're taking so long to get rid of the GIW."

Cousin Jazz gasps, hands coming up to cover her mouth as she shoots a look to Cousin Danny. Jon feigns looking away like he's shy, catching a glimpse of Cousin Danny sat upright and staring straight at Jon with blazing eyes. It kind of brings a shiver down his spine, which is strange because Cousin Danny likes to argue but he's always been more of a protector than a fighter. He's the type of person that'd rather get beat up than kick someone's butt even though he's basically a black belt like Aunt Maddie, he's that nice.

"He said, uh," Jon tears his gaze away, thankful for his hardy constitution. Ellie's hand flinches in his, but she doesn't let go. "He said his brother Tim could help, and wants to know if it's okay for me to give him your number."

Jon squeezes Ellie's hand, suddenly realizing that maybe this plan is a little harsh. Clearly Ellie and Cousin Danny are hiding stuff, and just because Damian figured it out doesn't mean it's okay to butt in.

But Damian said they need help, and Jon wants to. They're family.

Thankfully, Ellie squeezes back. He looks up at Aunt Maddie with his best puppy dog eyes ever. "Can I?"

"What kinda trouble are you into now?" Dad butts in, muscling his way over to tower over Aunt Maddie, who straightens up. "What's this about a GIW?"

"It's nothing." Aunt Maddie sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose before smiling down at Jon. "Baby Jon, can you please tell your friend that your Auntie and Uncle are already handling it? It's okay if it's slow."

"But Damian said they're trying to dissect Cousin Danny and Ellie!" Jon pushes Ellie behind him, protective and a little bit scared. "Isn't it better for them to be gone right away instead of later?"

"WHAT?!" Dad, Mom, and Ma scream, suddenly frantic. Cousin Danny pops up right next to Jon, hand placed gently on his shoulder.

The adults start to yell at each other, Cousin Jazz stepping in to tiredly explain what Damian's already figured out.

Jon is ushered a little away, back towards where Kon is sitting, dumbfounded and angry, in the grass. Cousin Danny picks Ellie up and plops her into Kon's lap, who looks confused and conflicted.

Ellie takes this in stride, making herself comfortable and adjusting Kon's limbs until it's too her satisfaction.

Jon is then picked up under his armpits, and Cousin Danny sits down carefully so that Jon is settled in his lap comfortably as well.

Despite seeing it earlier, when Ellie was in Danny's lap, it feels slightly awkward at first. Jon is 13, after all, and a little big for his age. But Cousin Danny's powerset probably includes super strength, so Jon tries not to worry to much about it. He hasn't been picked up like this for a couple years now, since he got too big for his Mom's lap. Sometimes Dad will pick him up from time to time, but considering they're both supers it's never really been necessary or even really thought of.

His family, nuclear or otherwise, is very touchy feely in the first place so he's not sure why this little thing is making him feel so…uneasy.

"Are you mad?" Jon fidgets, but ultimately decides to turn a little bit so it's easier to see his cousin's face.

Cousin Danny tilts his head, leaning back on his hands and looking at Jon with an unreadable expression. "Why would I be mad?"

"Well…'cause I went and found out your secret." Jon looks down, at his hands, picking at a his nails. He's invulnerable, so he doesn't get hangnails, but sometimes Jon wishes he would just so he would have something to do with his hands. Not that that's healthy, mind you, but his best friend is Damian Wayne.

Everything is sort of relative when your best friend was raised to be a ninja assassin prince.

Cousin Danny shakes the thoughts out of his head by ruffling his hair. "I'm not mad, Baby Jon. It was bound to happen eventually."

"We thought that maybe Dad would accidentally spill the beans," Ellie pipes in. She's commandeered Kon's arms to wrap around her for warmth. "Or maybe that Mom would blurt it out if she got into a fight with Uncle Clark."

"Jazz thinks we don't know," Cousin Danny adds in, grinning sardonically, "But we knew that she was also thinking that maybe Ellie or I would slip up."

"So what's the real story then?" Kon finally cuts in, squeezing Ellie tight, much to her delight, "Why're the G.I. Joe's trying to cut you and Ellie open?"

"GIW." Cousin Danny and Ellie correct his brother in unison.

"You can hear Jazz, can't you?" Cousin Danny scrunches his brows. "If Uncle Clark is Superman, that makes the both of you Superboy the first and second."

"Which, stupid idea by the way." Ellie purses her lips at Jon. "Why didn't you get your own name?"

"Pot," Cousin Danny rolls his eyes, leaning over to tap Ellie on the forehead. "Kettle."

Ellie huffs, pouting and scrunching down with her arms crossed further into Kon's lap. Confusing statements aside, his cousin's comment lets Jon off the hook. Damian has asked him this question too, and Jon is ashamed to say he didn't really think about it.

Jon kind of regrets it, but it's much too late to back out now.

"I wanna hear it from you." Kon shrugs, adjusting Jon's jacket over Ellie a little more firmly. "Plus they're talking about JL involvement, and your mom's gotten into a tirade about how unhelpful Clark's been."

Danny huffs a laugh, leaning back on his hands and staring up at the sky. For a long moment, Jon thinks that maybe his cousin won't answer or joke around about it, but then he heaves a big long sigh.

"It's a short story, really. Me and Ellie, because of a couple of…incidents aren't human anymore." Cousin Danny rolls his head towards Kon. "Or at least, not fully."

"We're halfas," Ellie adds in, "Our, uhm, genetic make-up has bonded, or I guess fused with this stuff called ectoplasm."

"Like the ghost goo?" Jon asks, glancing between the siblings. "From like, Ghostbusters?"

Both Ellie and Cousin Danny laugh at that, and for the first time Jon notices that they have fangs. "Yeah, bud, like the ghost goo."

"Was it a lab safety issue?" Kon cuts in, face stern and serious. Jon hasn't been told the specifics of his brother's origins but he knows enough that his brother is sensitive about that kind of thing—for good reason. "I didn't think about it until now, but jumpsuit she's wearing—it's a specialized hazmat suit, isn't it?"

"Sort of." Cousin Danny shrugs. "Mom and Dad were…negligent sure, but ultimately I was being a stupid kid doing stupid shit. I wasn't lying when I said I got my powers because of a dare."

"Mom and Dad didn't know about it." Ellie cuts in, sounding defensive. "Danny didn't tell anybody, and when Jazz found out she took him to the hospital."

"It wasn't that serious." Cousin Danny rolls his eyes, but Ellie shoots him an annoyed look.

"You got diagnosed with Cardiac Arrythmia and have to take special medications." Ellie hisses, pupils going slitted for a second. "You were dead for 5 minutes and didn't tell anybody."

Jon shivers, flashes of Cousin Danny laying on a cold lab floor assaulting his brain.

He tries to focus on his senses like Dad taught him when he first got his powers. He counts the heartbeats of Mom, closes his eyes to focus on Ma and Dad's heartbeats next to hers, hones in on Kon's in front of him and Pa's off across the way.

He reaches out, tries to focus on Damian's heartbeat in Gotham. It's steady, as it always is, and quiet as if it too, learned to be an assassin. He listens to the irregular scritches of Damian's charcoal pencil, the new one he bought last month and is still getting the hang of.

Cousin Danny's hand squeezes his, yanking Jon back to the sounds of the grass beneath them, Cousin Danny's irregular heartbeat, to the slightly cold temperature of him around Jon. He hadn't realized he had grabbed his cousin's hand in the first place.

"Breathe, Baby Jon." Cousin Danny soothes. "I don't remember much of it, and the medication is just for low level aches in my human form."

"He's got advanced healing. It's just—his powers are connected to his heart, so it's the only thing that won't heal. At least, that's what Mom and Dad think is happening." Ellie looks apologetic now, embarrassed for losing her temper. "Sorry, I guess I'm just…not over it yet. I didn't mean to scare you."

"S'okay." Jon mutters, to which his older cousin pats him on the back in comfort.

"Hey, at least I got a sick scar out of it." Cousin Danny grins, trying to lighten the mood and offering his left hand for inspection.

"I'm guessing your parents didn't know about the lab safety issue until after Ellie?" Kon's voice is suspicious, as if he's holding off on reacting too much until he gets his answers. He keeps darting looks at Aunt Maddie like he's not sure what to do about her. "You said you were both halfas, but Ellie doesn't have scars on her like you do."

"I'm a little different." Ellie bites her lip, tilts her head at Cousin Danny in silent question.

Cousin Danny pauses, tilting his head as he keeps eye contact. It takes Jon a moment to realize that his cousin is listening for something. "Mom's talking about Vlad now, so you might as well get it all out."

"I'm Danny's clone." Ellie smiles, toothy, like she's daring anybody to say anything about it. Her eyes go squinty when Kon freezes, but since his reaction isn't exactly hostile she seems to decide to continue anyway. "Mom has this Fruit Loop Billionaire who's delusionally in love with her."

"He wanted me to be his wingman, of a sorts." Cousin Danny scoffs. "When that failed, he tried to clone me. Don't ask me how or why, I still don't know."

This is sounding awfully familiar., and Jon does not like it. In the infamous words of Chris Evan's nephew, he does not wike it at all.

"He's kind of reformed now," Ellie continues, slowly moving out of Kon's lap and crawling over to Cousin Danny. "I sort of got destabilized, and then Mom and Dad fixed me up with the help of a friend."

Jon decides that maybe it is a good idea to switch and follows suit. He hesitates a moment, considering the brothers don't really…cuddle that much. But then decides that he might as well—Kon looks like he needs it. He plops into Kon's lap and hugs his neck. Kon breathes in deep, nuzzling into the space between Jon's neck and shoulder, squeezing around him.

"Mom kicked Vlad's ass," Cousin Danny hugs Ellie close, eyeing Kon's reaction concernedly. "And decided to keep her. I'm too young to be a dad, so she's legally my sister."

There's a long pause then, as the Fenton siblings look at the brothers in confusion. Jon realizes that maybe Kon's initial reaction could be construed as, he doesn't know, Kon being a clone hater or something. But the longer Kon squeezes Jon tight as if to comfort himself, the more the Fenton's are probably realizing that's not the case at all.

Jon's not sure how to explain it to them, he's not even sure if Kon would want him to, so he hugs Kon back just as tight and silently begs them to wait.

Family must count for something, because they do.

They wait until Kon starts to shake, and shake and shake.

Jon jolts, alarmed and trying to push back to see his brothers face only to realize—Kon's laughing.

"Holy shit," Kon's voice is trembling from the laughter, growing louder and louder in his guffaws. "Holy shit, fuck, you really cannot make this shit up, can you?"

Jon starts to smile, because yeah. The more he thinks about it, bad memories aside, it is actively hilarious how similar the situations are.

"Uh, no." Cousin Danny watches them warily, still confused. "You can't. Because that's what happened?"

"No, no, I know that. I just mean—" Kon's grin is disbelieving and confused at the same time. "It's just, dude. I'm a clone. Clark, no, Superman, has a Bald Billionaire who's homophobic-ly in love with him too!"

There's a long pause as the Fenton siblings digest this information, before all four of them explode into laughter.

"Ancients," Cousin Danny can barely breathe from his laughter, "I can't believe this runs in the family."

That sparks up another round of honking laughs, practically shrieking as they fall over each other in their amusement. This is how Uncle Jack finds them, breathless and rolling around in the grass like loonies.

Cousins, Clones and Conning the Family

Family Reunion AU, where cousins Maddie and Clark try to smuggle their clone children into the family reunion that happens every 5 years and pretend they've been there the whole time.

Spoiler alert, one of them does significantly better than the other. Mainly Kid POV, and also on AO3! Multichapter. ===

The problem with big family reunions, Danny thinks, is how utterly fucking lost Danny is all the gosh dang time.

"Well now, you're Maddie's son now ain'tcha? How old is you now?" The woman standing before him guffaws, ruffling his hair. He lets it, trying desperately to remember the speadsheet Jazz created for the family and (obviously) failing to recall this woman's name.

Agatha? Selene? Riri? No, Aunt Riri is over there—

"Yes ma'am," Danny smiles up at the unnamed aunt, accent going a little twangy like it always does at these functions, "I'll be hittin' 17 in a coupl'a months or so."

"My, my, you youngin's sure grow like weeds!" The aunt coos, gesturing to a height by her hip, "You used to be this tall last time I saw ya, betcha don't r'member me now do ya?"

It's a trap. If he says he doesn't remember, which is expected at reunions such as these that happen every 5 years or longer, she'll start going on and on about the stories she has of the family. Danny would have to stand here and demure and laugh at these cousins he doesn't really remember too well, but know enough to know that she's gotten them all mixed up.

"Pshaw," Danny doesn't react when a whisper breathes the answer into his ear, "I'd never forget a pretty lady like you, Aunt Helena!"

It works like a charm.

The second he's out of her clutches, he feels around for a cold spot. There, trailing just behind him, is Ellie. She's not invisible anymore, so he tucks her under his arm and bee-lines it towards the metaphorical kid's table.

"Thanks, Ellie. Weren't you supposed to stay with Dad?" Danny leads them around, trying to avoid any other mishaps. "Did Jazz send you?"

"She made me flashcards!" Ellie smirks up at him, ignoring his other question and pulling a corner of an index card out from the palm of her hand. She's always been better than him at manipulating the ecto in her body, for obvious reasons. Danny's not bitter about it at all.

"Damn, all I got was a presentation." Danny grumbles. Jazz and Dad somehow know every single one of their family members, which is ludicrous when even Mom doesn't know despite it being her side of the family.

He still can't really believe how big his family actually is, but he supposes that's natural. He only sees them once every couple of years, the only relative they see even on a remotely regular basis is Aunt Alicia, who has no kids and refuses (rightfully so) to remarry.

Danny's fine with that, he gets the best of both worlds after all. Cozy holiday stays with Aunt Alicia and he has places to stay all over the country if he really needs it, no questions asked.

Plus, crazy as they can be, these reunions have always felt like a big country festival for Danny.

"She likes me better." Ellie snickers, tugging him back to avoid Uncle Charlie's drunken stumbling.

"Everyone likes you better," Danny rolls his eyes, pushing Ellie's head down and ducking to avoid a stray kid's toy flying overhead, "I like you better."

As if somehow knowing Danny's being self deprecating again, Jazz shows up to smack him on the head. "I like both of you equally in special ways."

Danny makes a disgruntled noise, grumbling as he rubs his head, "Mooooom, Jazz is therapizing me again!"

Even though he was only half joking, Mom does show up specifically to laugh at him. "Honey, your father and I love all our children equally!"

"It's a secret," Dad says from behind Jazz, kids climbing all over him, "But Ellie's the favorite!"

"Jack!" Mom yells at the same time Jazz screams, "Dad!"

Ellie dissolves into giggles, making everyone but Dad helplessly laugh. It's good to see Ellie laugh, she does it a lot but it still doesn't feel like it's enough. Danny picks her up, giggling mess and all, and tosses her at Dad.

She lands, as expected, straight into the pile of children who scream and accept her easily.

"Nice." Jazz chuckles, this time patting him gently on his head in approval. Danny shrugs, dusting his hands off and heading back towards salvation: the food.

He and Jazz mingle a bit, exchanging greetings and school updates with the Aunts and Uncles they occasionally bump into, making their way slowly through and keeping an eye out for the other cousins.

Eventually, Jazz gets nabbed by Cousin Dermot just as Danny reaches the table, tossing a pig-in-a-blanket into his mouth and chewing with glee. The locals of the family usually something potluck style—and though Dad's genes are strong and the Fentons can't cook, the bulk of the Walker family definitely can.

In fact—Great Aunt Martha said she was going to bring some mini pies right?

Danny spies a pile of them in the middle of the large table and reaches for one, only to bump into the spikes of black fingerless gloves.

The gloves are, of course, attached to someone else.

It's a boy, around Danny's age, in a spiked leather jacket (matching the gloves) and white tee shirt with ripped jeans. He's got the tiniest John Lennon sunglasses and piercings everywhere—it makes Danny squint at him, with how much the sun keeps catching on everything—the spikes, the piercings, the metal arms of the sunglasses, is this dude also wearing lipgloss?

Danny's not judging, a guy can appreciate proper hydration to avoid chapped lips or even just for the aesthetic, but it doesn't help with the glare.

"Sorry, my bad." Right, okay, city slicker then. Not that Danny's much of a country boy or anything. "Did my spikes get you?"

Maybe Cousin Jenny brought a plus one? Danny eyes the guys jeans—they look tight. Was Cousin Mark into guys? Is this dude a guy or possibly a masculine girl? Ack. Stupid sun frying his brain.

"It's okay," Danny says, blinking away and tossing mini pie to the other person. "Aunt Martha's pies are worth the minor injury. You comin' in with one of the cousins?"

"Uh, yeah." Citypunk looks at Danny nervously, "I mean, I am one of the cousins." The guy bites his lips, shrugging, "Uh, one of the Kents, actually. Ma's real proud of the pies."

Danny blinks.

"…You're not Jon." Danny says, very carefully and slowly.

"…No…" Stranger Danger draws his vowels out, "I'm Conner. His, uh, older brother? Can't blame ya for being confused though!"

"…You can't." Danny agrees, because out of the two them, Danny definitely isn't to blame for the confusion.

"Yeah, lots of cousins, and all," Curiouser and Curiouser beams at Danny, shrugging and rubbing the back of his neck, "Plus, I know Jon's more sociable at these things."

"Right, he really is rambunctious, that guy." Danny nods, as if that's the problem, and not the fact that Danny knows every single cousin his age. Big as his family might be, Danny's generation came out the smallest. Cousin Jenny and Cousin Mark are the only two his age.

With Ellie and Jazz each being four years younger and older than Danny, and the other cousins being well beyond those ages in gaps, there is no way this guy is a cousin.

"Don't worry," Punk'd laughs self deprecatingly, "I know he's the favorite. even if Mom won't admit it."

Danny feels a vein throb in his right temple.

He's unsure if he should slowly back away or get up in the guy's face. It's just—now that Danny thinks about it, if wedding crashing is a thing, does that mean family reunion crashing is a thing too?

What's the protocol here? Should he fight this guy for having the audacity to use Great Aunt Martha's name in vein?

Wait, no, that's Jesus.

Is Great Aunt Martha Catholic? ...Is that the one with Jesus, or was that Christianity?

Wait, Danny, you knuckle head, Uncle Clark was adopted. Conner could be adopted too! Even though he looks exactly like that Uncle Clark when he was younger…

"Is this your first time at a reunion?" Danny ventures, "We only have 'em—"

"Every 5 years, yeah." Conner huffs, "Nah, I just used to hide with Ma in the kitchens."

Okay, clearly Great Aunt Martha isn't in on this, because Danny used to hide with Great Aunt Martha in the kitchens. Danny's about to lose his shit on this guy—or maybe sic Ellie on him. Whichever is worse.

"Oh yeah? That's must have been cozy." Danny grits out, taking a deep breath so his eyes don't flash.

"Yeah, it was!" Conner beams shyly. though all Danny sees is a smug smirk. "She's real nice-like, I'm sure you know. Real lucky to have her for a Grandma."

"Real lucky." Danny agrees, because Great Aunt Martha really was one of the better Great Aunts. Though most of the Walker Kin were hardy and tough, in that badass kind of way. Mom really liked Great Aunt Martha's lessons on bull wranglin' back when they were younger. "Speakin' of, she ain't here?"

"Nah," Conner makes a sad little pout. "She hadta stop by Auntie Agatha's for an emergency. She left two days ago, so she's runnin' a little behind. Cl—Dad went to go pick her up."

Danny squints at the possible imposter. That sounded like he was going to call Uncle Clark by his name, which makes things confusing for Danny. Guy will call Aunt Lois Mom but he won't call Uncle Clark Dad easily?  Maybe he's a kid Aunt Lois had before marrying Uncle Clark? But Aunt Lois would never hide a kid, and Great Aunt Martha would never let her treat a kid like that. That's not even taking into account that this kid looks way too much like Uncle Clark for it to be a fucking coincidence. Plus, Danny knew about Aunt Aggie's emergency and how she might not be making it to this year's reunion—this gives Conner's story credibility.

But Danny knows that the best way to lie is with truths, even if the truths are confusing.

So what the hell is going on? Is Clockwork fucking with him? Did an alternate timeline get switched with his?

It wouldn't be the first time, but Clockwork at least had the decency to let him know at least.

"What the—" Danny blinks, as Conner picks up a very familiar, eye-searingly green colored post it note that was stuck to the plate under a mini pie. "Is this yours?"

"Yeah," Danny huffs. taking the note and rolling his eyes as lies roll off his tongue, "Sorry, y'know how it goes with Jazz."

"Oh, yeah." And Danny has to give it Conner, he at least rolls with the punches real quick, "I heard about it but didn't ever uh, see it in action."

"Really?" Danny feigns surprise, head pulsing in irritation at the words all is as it should be written in purple pen. There's no mocking smiley face, but Danny feels it in the ink anyway. "Thought she got all the cousins at the last reunion."

Conner chuckles nervously, "Oh, yeah—Guess I'm just, easy to miss you know?"

"Uh huh…" Danny eyes the guy and his piercings and very distinct style, from the tip of his clearly styled hair and needlessly ostentatious big black studded boots. "…Right."

Conner laughs, wincing. "These're new. High school debut."

"…You're a freshman?" Danny tilts his head, squinting.

"Junior." Conner automatically corrects, before stiffening. "…I just wanted to reinvent myself for Junior Prom."

"Right." Danny repeats, drawing out the vowels and finally giving up. He can tell Conner already knows what Danny is going to ask, and is trying to exit this conversation post-haste.

Fortunately for Conner and unfortunately for Danny, Jazz comes barreling in, almost knocking the former out in the process as she grips the latter's biceps tightly with her eyes wide and nervous.

Unfortunately for Conner and fortunately for Danny, though the look in Jazz's eyes thoroughly distracts the latter and gives the former a window to escape, Jazz's hissed out words end up keeping Conner rooted to the floor.

"Baby Jon has powers!" Jazz hisses as she moves Danny away from the possible imposter a couple feet. Even though she says it low enough for only Danny to hear, Conner's wide eyes as he whips his gaze towards them suggests that Jon's not the only one with powers.

And then words actually register along with that thought.

Danny hisses out the first thing he thinks of. "Since when?? I thought he took after Aunt Lois!"

"Since now," Jazz gruffs, switching her grip to drag Danny away, "and I need you to do something about it!"

"What?" Danny doesn't struggle, going along even as he eyes Conner who seems to be following them at a distance. "Why?"

Jazz pushes him towards the kid's area, rushing out a frantic "He's in the bounce house with Ellie!"

Danny freezes, or tries to even as Jazz keeps tugging him along, before shaking off her hand and booking it towards the bounce house.

Once the bounce house (a castle) comes into view, Danny clocks several things in succession:

One: Ellie and Jon are thankfully the only ones in the bounce house right now.

Two: Ellie and Jon are laughing, and through the mesh Danny can see Ellie watching Jon jump way too high to be considered normal.

And three: The bounce house is about to fucking tip over.

There's a gaggle of Aunts herding the younger cousins towards the food that's dense enough for cover, but sparse enough for Danny to dash through.

Between one blink and the next, he disappears.