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dcxdpdabbles · 7 months

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Danny's Grill Part 2

Special thanks to @mkarchin713 for letting me use their idea.

Tim's night had been hectic.

Not only have things at WE taken a turn for the worst due to some random influencer that decided Wayne Enterprises was the cause of global warming and convinced all his fans of the same- despite the fact they were the nation's leading company in green energy- sales have been down.

The board was breathing down his neck to fix the stocks while being no help at all to get the youth back on their side. He's already pulled twelve hours of overtime this week and it was only Wednesday.

He's been dealing with the PR nightmare while trying to get to the bottom of data theft across multiple big-name technology companies. Reports of scams and total funds lost were reported all through Gotham and only his city.

Tim suspects someone had been planting screen recording devices in one of Gotham's shipping factories before they left the buildings, stealing all the information from new buyers.

Since his theory is so hard to trace, he's been having difficulty pinpointing the base of operations, never mind having enough proof for his thesis. After Bruce's lost-in-time fiasco, Tim learns to have evidence before going to the family with anything.

So that means he's been trying to fight his way on his own, which usually isn't too much to handle, but stress and lack of sleep have really been slowing him down.

Thankfully, a specific food truck appears in his line of sight, and his mood improves drastically. He finds a safe roof to quickly change into his civilians, already fantasizing about what delicious food he would eat.

Dressed in his typical Alvin Draper disguise- black, almost second-skin tights and an oversized sweater- he all but skips to Danny's Grill.

"Night, Danny," He says, smiling at the back of the chef. He leans on the little extended table outside the truck's small window. He takes a sniff of the air, mouth watering at the scent.

Looks like tonight is cheeseburgers, as Danny carefully flips some patties. Danny whirls around with a smile of his own, only to drop the spatula in horror.

"Alvin! What happened!?" Danny shouts, nearly flinging himself through the tiny opening. The vigilante blinks in confusion before catching his reflection in the napkin dispenser.

In his haste to have some of Danny's food, he forgot to cover up a black eye, swollen right cheekbone, and busted lip from his last faulty lead. A goon had gotten him by surprise and had nearly rearranged his face before he was able to get his wits about him.

"Nothing, really; it comes with the job, you know?" Tim tries to play off, laughing nervously when Danny's expression crumbles into pure rage. "Look, it's no big deal-"

"How can it not be a big deal!? Half your face is swollen!"

That happens when someone hits you with a metal pipe in the face. He thinks hysterically. "I've had worse."

"That's not comforting!" Danny screams, throwing off his apron. "Let me close down, and I'll take you to a doctor-"

"No hospitals. They'll ask where I got this, and I can't answer that." Tim cuts in, voice hard. There is a tense moment where he thinks Danny will force him to go anyway, but after a moment the other man growls slamming his hands on the counter.

"Fine. Fine. No hospitals. At least let me ice it." It takes everything in Tim not to shrink back from the hateful tone. He barely has the mind to nod as Danny quickly unlocks the little door that leads into his truck, ushering the Bat inside with barely controlled rage.

He knows it's not aimed at him, but being around someone so upset makes his skin crawl. Tim has problems with offending people; his parents had been masters in drilling into him from a young age.

That's why Tim always sought the approval of everyone around him, even if he couldn't stand the person.

He has been working on it, but old habits died hard.

"Sorry." He mumbles as Danny quickly gets a zippy bag full of ice.

"Don't. Apologize." Danny bites before taking a large breath, clearly trying to calm down. He gently places the ice against Tim's cheek, staring at him with such tender worry Tim can't help but feel butterflies. "You don't have to apologize for getting roughed up. Never. Okay?"

Tim nods, shyly looking away as his stomach is rapidly overrun by even more butterflies. "Okay."

"Come home with me." Danny suddenly blurts as if the words were forced out of him. He looked just as surprised by them as Tim was.

"What?"

"Just for tonight. Just so I know you're safe." Danny all but pleas, and Tim- well, Tim has never been known to be strong enough to resist his impulses. Sure, the family might worry, but he can send them a message claiming to be undercover, and frankly- it's been so long since Tim's had a break.

He's always wanted to know more about Danny outside his food truck. He hadn't been able to find much on him. Tim is a detective by heart. He wants to know everything there is to know about Danny Fenton.

"I can leave when I want." He says, as Danny carefully places a warm hand on his other cheek. "And I sleep in my own space. No bed sharing. I also want to take a shower but I don't have anything to sleep in."

"You can borrow something of mine/ Whatever you need." The words are practically a warm hug, and Tim feels relaxed. Already the shitty week feels less terrible, and he finds himself growing bold enough to take an obvious sniff of the air.

"Can I have a burger?"

There is a hint of an amused smile, but it does not cover up the worry. "Of course you can."

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The shower is running in Danny's house.

It's a bit out of the way, about a forty-minute drive outside of Gotham limits, but it's spacious and private, just the way Danny liked it.

Ever since he inherited his title, he's found this house on the list of properties, and that was why he chose to take Gotham by storm in his little truck.

Danny isn't really sure what the story of the property was- the suspects the place was built around the same time Gotham got its curse; seeing as it was overseeing the city and had enough natural ectoplasm in the air, he would suspect the curse affecting the town lead to here. He never cared to check.

No, rather Danny had some ghosts remodel the old building to include wiring and functioning plumbing but asked that the general overall of the mansion stay the same.

He sort of like pretending to be a Lord of the Oldden days. If anyone asked if he walked around acting out old romances of the Victorian era, that was not else business but his own.

Alvin was undoubtedly impressed when they pulled up to his house. Maybe it shouldn't have felt so prideful to have the handsome man be impressed with his mansion given the circumstances.

He seemed to accept the excuse of having been willed the house by his late grandfather. He just hoped Alvin didn't think him the same as his wealthy clients.

Speaking of, he better make the call before Alvin finished.

Stepping to his balcony, he pulled out his burner phone and pressed the speed dial five. There are four rings before the call connects.

He gets no greeting, but he's not expecting one. Danny looks over his shoulder to ensure the bathroom door is connected to the master room- his bedroom, where Alvin will be staying, seeing as it has a bigger fireplace. He needs to have them install a heating system. Danny never bothered, what with his ice core and all- before he spoke.

"Hey, Red Hood, it's Danny. I'm calling in that favor."

There is a long pause before the other man grunts. "What is it?"

"My friend is a pro whose pimp or johns have been abusing lately. Can you help me....take care of the issue? I don't want to overstep in his life, but I'm pretty sure they broke his check bone tonight, and he claimed to have had worse before." Danny sighs, his stomach overturning at what that could mean. He hasn't gone out as Ghost King to show those assholes a thing or two because this isn't his haunt.

It's Red Hood's.

Danny had met the other man when a rouge attack had busted up all the main highways he usually worked in and had no choice but to try to sell in Crime Alley. He was right off the territory's edge, freaking out about entering without the main ghost's permission, until Red Hood confronted him.

Danny's frantic fretting had been suspicious enough that the main honcho had gone to find out why he was so nervous.

They worked a deal where Danny would sell his ware in peace, and as long as he let kids eat for free, Red Hood had no quarrels with him. He even got a favor from the crime lord after Danny provided free meals to some of his men's families struggling to get food a few months back.

He also allowed Hood to use his house as a safe house to hide a few people who needed to be out of the city. Is he part of Red Hood's gang? No.

Is he an alley? Yes.

Danny had been saving the favor for such an occasion.

There is silence on Hood's side, so Danny goes in for the kill. "My friend is seventeen; in a few months, he'll be eighteen, but he said he has been doing this since he was younger."

The silence is now laced with malice. If there was one thing they both agreed on it was that kids were never meant to be hurt by the scum of the city. "Give me his name and the area he usually works in."

"Alvin Draper. He changes per night, but I've often seen him on the east side of Crime Alley."

"I'll look into it. Is Alvin safe?"

"Yeah, he's going to be staying with me tonight. Don't come by until I convince him to extend his stay." Danny knows Hood will understand. This is one of many pros to see the Zone- his mansion's name- as a sanctuary.

"That's fine. Can you get me a picture of Alvin?"

"No, he's too skimmish."

Hood grunts again, his voice coming out tired despite the voice monitor. "Kids always are. I'll have my boys find Alvin's primp and johns. Ensure there aren't any other younglings before they make them swim with the fish."

Danny almost falls over in relief. "Thank you. Alvin...Alvin means a lot to me."

" Don't mention it. Stay well, Victorian."

Victorian is the code name Hood has given him to ensure Danny isn't tired of his gang. Yes, it's because his house is a Victorian mansion, but Danny also likes to think it's cause the other man appreciates the aesthetics of his house a little too much.

He once caught Hood admiring his Pride and Prejudice hardcover book displayed in his green sitting room.

"You too Hood. And thank you."

How would he convince Alvin that his house was a better place to call home than the orphanage and street corners without coming off as a wannabe savior or hopelessly in love creep?

Danny pauses at his own train of thought.

Hopelessly in love? He thinks in shock as the bathroom door swings open, and out comes Alvin, dressed in Danny's extra pajama set. He offers Danny a shy smile; even with the injuries, it is the loveliest sight he's ever seen, and- oh no, Danny is in love with him.

"You up for a late-night snack?" He asks, trying to not show the world-shattering realization on his face, and Alvin's smile grows wider.

"You're going to make me fat." The other laughs. Danny's heart skips a beat.

Danny Fenton loves Alvin Draper and will do everything he can to protect him. Even if Alvin will hate him for it.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Danny's grill #Prat 2 #Dead tired #misunderstanding #Danny thinks Tim is a protisute #secret identity #Jason is out for blood somewhere #Danny has a victorian mansion as ghost king #Tim is there for the lore and the vibes

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rynwritesreid · 3 months

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Mind games~Spencer Reid

Chapter three~ nothing’s new

Chapter summary: The FBI gives you time off, allowing you time to heal after what happened to you. But after news spreads, someone from your past contacts you, making old wounds resurface, making you turn to none other than Spencer Reid.

Chapter warnings: Talks about the BDSM community and BDSM dynamics. Talks of fainting. Submissive reader and dominant Spencer. Alcohol consumption. Mentions of what happened to you in the previous chapter but nothing serious. Reader cries but Spencer comforts her. Mentions of emotional wounds from previous relationships.

A/N: I might start releasing these every week instead of every other week, but I am not sure. I also hope this is a good description of what BDSM and specifically D/S relationships are like, I know that community gets a lot of really bad stories written about them.

~mind game’s masterlist~

~join the mind games taglist~

Everyone on the team had been looking after you, making sure you were okay. Spencer, however, had been a godsend. He would send you texts throughout the day, even though the man hated technology. He had opened up to you about what he had been through, maybe in hopes of you opening up, or maybe he just wanted to show you he knew how you were feeling. But you didn’t really care, you were just happy that he was no longer horrible towards you.

You did want to open to Spencer, to everyone, and let them know what you had seen, but you just couldn’t. And the fact that people from academy had been texting you, telling you they had heard what happened and that they couldn’t imagine how you felt, just made it worse.

It had also made it back to your ex-boyfriend, who after 1 and a half years of ignoring your texts, had decided to call you. Part of you wanted to ignore the call, to push away any connection to the past. But another part of you was curious about what he had to say after all this time.

Taking a deep breath, you answered the call. His voice sounded distant and strained as he spoke, "Hey... I heard about what happened. I'm so sorry."

The sincerity in his tone surprised you, and for a moment, you were reminded of why you had loved him in the first place. But then reality set in, reminding you of the pain and heartbreak he had caused.

"I appreciate your sympathy," you replied coolly, trying to maintain a sense of composure. "But I'm doing my best to move forward."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you could almost hear him searching for the right words.

"I understand if you don't want to hear from me anymore," he finally said, his voice filled with regret. "I just wanted you to know that I've changed. I've done a lot of soul-searching and therapy since we broke up. I wish I could have been there for you when you needed me."

Your grip on the phone tightened as his words struck a chord within you. The longing for closure and understanding warred with the pain and bitterness that still lingered from your past.

"It's too late now," you replied, your voice laced with a mixture of anger and sadness. "You had your chance, and you blew it."

There was silence on the other end, and you could almost picture him taking in a deep breath before speaking again.

"You're right," he said quietly. "I don't deserve your forgiveness. But I hope that someday, maybe, you can find it in your heart to let go of the hurt I caused."

Tears welled up in your eyes as his words hit you like a wave crashing onto the shore. The pain of his betrayal resurfaced, threatening to engulf you once again. Part of you wanted to believe in his sincerity, to believe that people could change. But another part of you feared being hurt all over again.

"I don't know if I can ever forgive you," you managed to say, your voice trembling with emotion. You didn’t care what he had to say anymore, so you just hung up.

You couldn’t hold back any more and you just began to sob. You picked up your phone and decided to call Spencer, it probably would have been smarter to call one of the girls, Spencer wasn’t the only one who understood what you had gone through, but Spencer was the only one who could truly understand you.

As the phone rang, your tears continued to flow, blurring your vision and making it difficult to see. The weight of your emotions felt like an anchor dragging you down into a sea of despair. Each ring seemed to echo in the cavernous void of loneliness that had enveloped you.

Finally, Spencer's voice broke through the haze of your anguish. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his tone filled with concern.

You tried to steady your voice, but it came out choked with sobs. "Spencer," you managed to utter between gasps for air. "I... I need you."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then Spencer's voice softened with understanding. "I'm here for you," he said gently. "Take all the time you need, and when you're ready, I'll be right by your side."

“I’m ready now Spencer, please.” In that moment, you could hear the urgency in your own voice, the desperation for comfort and solace. The pain of your past relationship had resurfaced, triggering a deep yearning for someone who truly understood you. And Spencer, with his unwavering support and compassion, was the only person who could provide that.

Silence lingered on the other end of the line, and you wondered if perhaps you had overwhelmed him with your sudden vulnerability. But just as doubt began to creep in, Spencer's voice filled the void once again.

"I'm on my way," he said firmly, his words laced with determination. "Stay where you are. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Relief washed over you like a gentle tide, easing some of the turmoil in your heart. You trusted Spencer implicitly; his presence was a balm to your wounded soul.

Spencer rushed into Hotch’s office, telling him that you needed someone with you right now, and that he will be back to work as soon as he can be.

And Spencer, a man who was always true to his word, was at your door within 20 minutes.

You opened the door, your tear-streaked face betraying the pain you had been holding inside. Spencer took one look at you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. The warmth of his touch, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, brought a sense of security that you hadn't felt in a long time.

"I'm here," he whispered softly into your ear, his voice filled with genuine concern. "You're not alone anymore."

You clung to him, seeking solace in his presence, as he led you to the couch and sat down beside you. “You don't have to face this pain by yourself”, his voice was calming, “everyone on the team loves you, they all would be here in a heartbeat for you. I mean they are discussing what to get you for when you come back to work.”

You let out a weak laugh, the first sign of a smile since the whole ordeal began. It was comforting to know that you had a support system, a group of people who truly cared about you.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I don't know where I would be without all of you."

Spencer's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes filled with genuine compassion. "You're stronger than you think," he assured you softly. "And we'll be right here with you every step of the way."

In that moment, as you sat there with Spencer by your side, you felt a glimmer of hope. The pain and heartache were still present, but now they were tempered by the love and support surrounding you.

“Would you like to talk about what happened, or is there something else on your mind?”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you were ready to relive the details of the past, but then you realized that Spencer was right. It was time to face what had happened and start the healing process.

Taking a deep breath, you began to share your story. The words tumbled out, sometimes in a rush, other times choked with emotion. Spencer listened attentively, never interrupting or judging. He offered gentle words of encouragement, his presence a constant reminder that you were not alone.

As you recounted the painful memories, it felt like a weight was being lifted off your shoulders. Each word spoken was an act of defiance against the pain that had consumed you for so long. And with each passing minute, you felt a little bit stronger.

When you finally finished, there was a silence that hung in the air, as if the weight of your story needed a moment to settle in. Spencer broke the stillness with a soft sigh.

"I'm so sorry," he said sincerely, “you should never have had to have gone through that. He will rot in prison. And that ex of yours, he did not deserve you.”

You nodded, grateful for Spencer's unwavering support and understanding. His words were like a soothing balm to your wounded soul, validating the pain you had endured. Your heart ached with the realization that you had been in a toxic relationship, but knowing that you were no longer alone gave you the strength to move forward.

"Thank you, Spencer," you whispered, tears brimming in your eyes once again. "I don't know how I would have made it through this without you."

Spencer's gaze softened, his hand gently wiping away your tears. "You don't have to thank me," he said softly. "Being there for you is what friends do. We look out for each other."

The word "friends" lingered in the air, and you couldn't help but wonder if there was something more between you and Spencer. The connection you shared felt deeper than mere friendship, but you were both still healing from past wounds. It was too soon to explore those feelings, and not long ago, Spencer had shown his dislike for you.

After about two weeks, you were back in the bullpen. Garcia had decorated your desk, telling you that this always make her feel better and she thought it would do the same to you, JJ and Emily informed you on all the gossip you had missed, Hotch had gone full dad mode on you, making sure you were okay, Rossi had invited you over to his for a private cooking lesson, Morgan had told you all the pranks he had pulled on Spencer. Spencer on the other hand seemed to keep his distance, he had smiled at you, but ever since that day he had come over something seemed to have changed.

You couldn't put your finger on it, but there was a palpable shift in the dynamics between you and Spencer. He was still kind and supportive, but there was a subtle hesitancy in his interactions with you. It was as if he was holding back, as if there were unresolved emotions swirling beneath the surface.

You desperately wanted to address it, to talk to Spencer about what had transpired between you, but you feared that doing so might jeopardize the fragile bond you had built. What if he didn't feel the same way? What if he saw you as nothing more than a friend and confidant?

You pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the work at hand. The team had a new case, one that required their full attention. As you discussed the details with your teammates, you noticed Spencer's gaze linger on you for a moment longer than necessary. It was a fleeting look, but enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Throughout the day, you found yourself stealing glances at Spencer whenever you could. There was an undeniable chemistry between the two of you, a connection that had grown stronger during your time of need. But you both had been through so much already, and neither of you wanted to rush into anything without being sure.

As the case progressed, Spencer's presence beside you became more prominent. He would stand just a little too close, his hand brushing against yours as he passed you a file or offered his insights. It was subtle, but it spoke volumes about what he was feeling.

Even JJ had commented on it, asking if something was going on between the two of you, but you assured her nothing was going on. But the truth was, you weren't quite sure how to define whatever it was that was happening between you and Spencer.

After the case was over, the team decided to go out for celebratory drinks. This was the first time you had gone out since what had happened to you. You were sat in-between JJ and Garcia, they were both talking about their funniest sex stories and you couldn't help but laugh along with them, grateful for the distraction from your own thoughts. Across the table, Spencer was engaged in a lively conversation with Rossi and Morgan, his laughter ringing out in the crowded bar.

You don’t know what compelled you, but you decided to share yours, and you were almost certain Spencer couldn’t hear you.

“If you want to mine”, you paused, allowing the girls to give you their full attention, “I told my ex that I was into BDSM and he thought that just meant me calling him daddy. So, when I told him what I was really into, he nearly fainted. It was definitely an interesting and eye-opening experience." The girls burst into laughter, their faces turning red from the combination of alcohol and amusement.

The sound caught Spencer's attention, his ears perking up as he turned his head towards you. His eyes locked with yours, and you could've sworn there was a flicker of interest in them.

"Wait, what did I miss?" he asked, leaning closer to catch the tail end of the conversation.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as you glanced at the girls. JJ nudged you playfully, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"Oh, Y/N's just regaling us with her kinky adventures," Garcia chimed in with a teasing smirk.

Spencer raised an eyebrow, a mix of curiosity and surprise evident on his face. "Is that so?" he asked, trying to hide a smile.

You shifted in your seat, feeling a mix of embarrassment and anticipation. The playful conversation seemed to have opened a door, allowing for a light-hearted connection between you and Spencer. You took a deep breath, deciding to seize the moment.

"Yeah, well, it was definitely an experience," you replied, matching his playful tone. "But let's just say, I've learned my lesson about dating vanilla guys."

Spencer chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, I can assure you, I'm far from vanilla," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice.

JJ and Garcia exchanged knowing glances, silently urging you to take the plunge. They had seen the connection between you and Spencer long before either of you had acknowledged it, and they were more than ready to play matchmakers.

"So," Garcia interjected with a sly grin, "are we going to sit here and talk about kinks all night, or are you two going to finally address the elephant in the room?"

“I-erm what elephant?” you asked, there was hint of confusion in your voice.

“Oh, come on.” JJ stated “Even when Spencer hated you, he couldn’t take his eyes of you.”

Spencer's cheeks flushed slightly, his gaze shifting nervously between you and JJ. You could see the internal battle raging within him, the fear of rejection warring with his desire for something more.

Finally, Spencer took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to speak. "I... I have to admit," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "Even when I claimed to dislike you, I couldn't deny the pull I felt towards you. You're intelligent, compassionate, and..." He trailed off, his eyes searching yours for any sign of reciprocation.

A warm smile spread across your face as you reached across the table, gently placing your hand on top of Spencer's. "And what?" you prompted softly.

He let out a shaky laugh, his fingers intertwining with yours. "And beautiful," he finished, his voice filled with sincerity.

JJ and Garcia exchanged triumphant glances as their matchmaking efforts paid off.

“You know, I think it’s time you two go home, so you can discuss this somewhere Hotch can’t hear you.” Emily said in a hushed tone.

You and Spencer laughed, realizing that your friends were right. It was time to have a more private conversation about the growing feelings between you. As the night came to an end, you and Spencer found yourselves outside the bar, away from prying ears.

The air was crisp, a gentle breeze rustling through the trees. You leaned against the side of the building, facing Spencer who stood only a few feet away. There was a comfortable silence between you as you both took a moment to collect your thoughts.

Finally, Spencer spoke up, his voice filled with vulnerability. "I never meant to push you away before. I was scared...scared of opening myself up to someone, scared of getting hurt. But seeing what you went through, how strong you were...it made me realize how much I care about you."

Your heart swelled at his words, grateful for his honesty. "Spencer, I understand why you acted the way you did. We've all been hurt before, and we all have our own ways of protecting ourselves," you replied softly. "But I want you to know that I care about you too, and I'm willing to take the risk if it means we can be together."

Spencer's eyes met yours, filled with a mix of relief and hope. "You would really give us a chance?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

A gentle smile tugged at your lips as you stepped closer to him. "Yes, Spencer, I would. I would give us a chance," you confirmed, your voice filled with certainty. "Because the truth is, Spencer, I've been falling for you ever since the first case I worked.”

Spencer's eyes widened, surprise mingling with joy. "Really? Even when I was being an insufferable jerk?"

You chuckled softly. "Especially then," you admitted. “But I do have to know what you mean when you say your far from vanilla.”

Spencer blushed, his cheeks turning a shade of crimson. "Well," he stammered, "I've always had a... deep fascination with role-playing scenarios and exploring different power dynamics." He paused, his gaze searching yours for any sign of judgment or discomfort. “And I can say I enjoy being the dominant one more.”

“Is that so? What have been your favourite scene you’ve done so far?”

Spencer cleared his throat, a bashful smile playing on his lips. "Well, one of my favourite scenes involved a classic teacher-student dynamic," he confessed, his voice laced with excitement. "I got to play the strict professor, and she was my eager and naughty student."

Your eyebrows raised in surprise and curiosity. "Oh? And how did that play out?"

He chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Let's just say there were some detentions and extra credit assignments involved," he replied coyly. "It was all about the power play and the thrill of breaking the rules within the safety of our consensual role-playing."

He then once again looked to see if you were unconformable. “What about you? What do you enjoy.” He asked.

“I, erm- well I enjoy being the submissive one. I was in a dynamic relationship with someone, and they gave me a necklace to wear, to show I belonged to them. They used to tell me what outfits I could wear when going out.”

Spencer's eyebrows furrowed, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. "Did you enjoy the feeling of submission, or was it more about the trust and surrender that came with it?" he asked gently, his voice filled with genuine interest.

You took a moment to consider his question before answering honestly. "It was a combination of both," you replied, your voice soft but unwavering. "There was something incredibly liberating about giving up control and trusting someone else to take care of me. It allowed me to let go of my responsibilities and just be in the moment."

Spencer nodded, a thoughtful look on his face as he took in your words. "I understand," he said quietly. "The power dynamics in BDSM can be incredibly nuanced and fulfilling when both parties are open and communicative about their desires and boundaries."

"Would you ever consider exploring that dynamic with me?" you asked cautiously, searching his face for any sign of hesitation. “I mean, I would still be the submissive one.”

Spencer’s eyes softened, filled with warmth and reassurance. He reached out to gently cup your cheek, his touch sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. "I would be honoured to explore that dynamic with you," he replied softly. "But only if we establish clear boundaries, practice open communication, and ensure that both of our needs are met."

You smiled, relieved by his understanding and respect for the importance of consent and communication in such exploration. "I couldn't agree more," you murmured, leaning into his touch. "We'll take it slow, step by step, and create a safe space for both of us to express ourselves."

~taglist~

@iluvreid @drspencerreidsthings @amatheuni@i-heart-mgg @Liidiaaag@wyntersstuff@brilliantreid @donttrustlove@btsiguess-kpop @bellesmith628 @lunaticgurly @Oureternalbond@somethingsmart123 @ula-revolution @pleasantwitchgarden @vvampwebb @alysena2 @sujan39 @nini123 @xoxo-lyss @rory-cakes @marantha @http0kms0jpg @peppersapro @mommymilkers3000@spicycalabaza @shinixpo@dr-reidsslut@[email protected]@potatochip-111 @stars-n-stuff15 @nugget1234567@00047c@carley12041@earth2stxr@cosavuoi-me@sewmxx @bibissparkles @frgtmenotes @mdanon027 @drreidsfavwhxre@yourfavoritefangirl @sunnyyyyyyyynnus @mega-kittyglitter-1 @loliakeoghan23 @7bel-o@dreamsarebig @kohordosara16@ashlynt @waywardhunter95 @millreid0607@spencerstits @ruby-d1amond @harrrystyles5 @maoricth @sarcasm-and-stiles @r-3dlips @khxna @k3nz13a @reidtopia @danelhi@fictionallifestuff @girl_lost_not_found@bbggarcia@b0nesnotcals@super-btstrash-posts @blacksoul-27@reidsgirlhottie@alexxavicry @olives-and-sunshine @skulliecadaver-blog

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid smut #rynwritesreid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid

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maitanii · 1 year

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TOKYO REVENGERS INSTAGRAM HEADCANONS

an: missed me? I'm back with more shitty headcanons :*

MIKEY

— He likes to post the cringiest stories that you've ever seen on Instagram. You know the Facebook memes that old women post on Instagram? Yeah, that kind of thing.

— The only comments that he receives are Baji's emojis (🤣🤣🤣🤣)

— His feed is made of photos of the Toman founders and blurry photos of his bike.

— He doesn't use Instagram to flirt. He, in fact, doesn't know how to flirt.

DRAKEN

— He doesn't really post anything. Sometimes Emma tags him on a story and he re-posts it, but that's it.

— His feed is made of two photos: one of his bike and one in a mirror with Emma.

— He comments on every single Toman member post with "🔥🔥" or "lol".

BAJI

—Technology grandma.

—He posts 1715 stories per day, and all of them are the same blurry pic of Peke J.

— Feed full of photos. Some better some worse.

— Sometimes he'll post a question sticker, but he doesn't know how to answer them.

— He really tries to flirt through DM's. (Key word: tries)

— One time, a fake profile commented on one of his photos saying "You're HOT 🔥💋 Want to meet🔥?" and he tried to talk to them. Mitsuya is still laughing about it.

CHIFUYU

— Average Instagram user.

— Cute selfies of him and Peke J. Some random cafeteria. Photos of Toman reunions.

—His feed is empty but he does have his stories organized.

— He has flirted more than once through DM's.

— He mostly uses Insta to send memes to Kazutora and Takemichi. I would say Baji but Baji literally doesn't get memes.

KAZUTORA

— Now, this one.

— Feed empty. No profile picture. Stories are made of sad songs and question stickers of "someone wants to talk". Chifuyu answers to them every single time. Baji just goes to his house.

— He has a meme account.

— DM king.

— He also sends Chifuyu screenshots of Mikey's stories. They have loads of inside jokes with them.

MITSUYA

—Inmaculate feed. Best photographer.

— He usually posts photos of Hakkai modeling his designs, Luna and Mana, cups of coffee and his bike.

— His feed doesn't have a lot of photos, but they're enough to know about him and his past.

— He doesn't flirt through DM's.

— He also sends DRAKEN screenshots of Mikey's posts.

HAKKAI

—Instagram king.

— He's a model. What else should I say.

— Whenever he gets tagged by Yuzuha, he reposts the story.

—His feed is made of his professional photos.

— DM's for business enquires.

PAH CHIN AND PEH YAN

—These two come together.

— They have an account "for entrepreneurs" where they share pixelated pictures of "wise advice".

— Bitcoin bros.

— Comment on every single Elon Musk posts with " you're right bro🔥🔥🔥"

SANZU

— His profile pic is a cat.

— Private account with a few followers. Not that he cares about that.

— His feed is made of 2 photos, and both of them are from 5 years ago. One of them is with Mikey (Retrica effect included) and the other one is a cheese cake.

— His stories are quite pleasant to see, he's a good photographer.

HAITANI RAN

— ...

— Instagram king wannabe.

— His feed is made of amazing photos. He's beautiful and he knows how to get his features to shine.

— His stories... debatable.

— He tries to make himself to look interesting. And maybe it works with some people. But not with his acquaintances. Rindou always answers to his stories with "🔥🔥 so deep bro🔥🔥" while he's laughing with his friends behind the screen.

— King of flirting though DM's tho.

HAITANI RINDOU

—Gymbro

—Shares inspirational videos from TikTok and gym photos on his stories.

— Feed with a few photos, but not empty. Some are with his brother and some from parties. Quite aesthetic.

—Doesn't really use DM's.

INUI

—Is not interested in social media, but has an account because Koko told him he needed one for his business.

—He doesn't post stories, only photos of bikes on his feed.

—Once he posted one of himself with a bike and all the comments were "bro is beautiful".

—Koko follows him with a fake profile.

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max1461 · 7 months

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So, I definitely get the subjective impression that goods are "worse quality" today than they used to be. Clothes seem flimsier, household items are more likely to be made of cheap materials like plastic instead of metal or wood, etc. You can chalk this up at least in part to survivor bias, but to some degree that explanation feels like a just-so story. In particular, even when I see depictions of the world of, say, 70 years ago (e.g. images, films, etc), the average quality of clothing and household items looks higher. What explains this?

I have a few ideas about possible explanations, but I'm not sure if any of them are right:

1) There is a bias in terms of which goods were immortalized in pictures, on film, etc. People were more likely to depict goods of high quality.

I think this is probably a little bit true, but insufficient. After all, movies today depict plenty of cheap plastic crap.

2) More efficient cost minimization at each price point. Poor quality goods are on average cheaper to make, so the market will minimize the quality of the goods that are sold at each price point (I think this wouldn't be a thing in a perfectly frictionless market, but we don't live in a perfectly frictionless market). Greater technology has meant greater ability to do this, so it's more true now than it was a century ago.

3) More efficient price optimization over all. In the old days, a thingy had to be made out of metal or it wasn't gonna be made at all, because metal was the only fit-for-purpose material that existed. Today, it can be made of metal or plastic. The plastic ones cost less, so everybody buys the plastic ones and you don't see metal ones anymore.

The upshot of this last point is that people own more stuff, but it's on average worse quality.

4) Planned obsolescence?

I don't know, anything else?

I think I'd put my money on (3) as the main explanatory factor, although it seems like maybe it doesn't really work to explain changes in clothing quality.

#society #questions

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seytazen · 1 year

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Funny crack thought.

Obviously, Cybertronians aren’t native English speakers and yet they speak as if they are. This alludes to a translator technology.

What if this translator technology also acted like a filter?

And they didn’t upload any typical human swear words to Ratchet’s because he’s got such a potty mouth and dammit Optimus is not going to let Ratchet ruin human-cybertronain relations with his refusal to not swear at people who annoy him

And Ratchet is constantly swearing but the translator is making him say things like “freaking,” “darn-it,” “rear-end,” ya know baby swears.

Ratchet: Son of a biscuit…

Miko: what did you just say???

Ratchet: *rolls optics* oh please, you’re an adolescent I’m sure you’ve heard worse.

Miko: *trying not to crack up* uhh yeah you could say that- but you’re like a million years old

Ratchet: *annoyed* your point?

Miko: Like you said- we’ve all heard and seen worse. You could lose the baby swears- right guys??

Jack: yeah I mean it’s not like Optimus is around.

Raf: My siblings swear all the time, I don’t really care either..

Ratchet:… I swear all the time around you kids. The heck are you talking about?

Miko: Ratchet- only old people and children say heck. Say Hell like a grown up.

Ratchet: … you mean the entire time I’ve known you Miko, you haven’t heard me swear once??

Miko: no? We thought you were trying to “protect our ears” or some shit like that.

Ratchet: Wait wait say that word again it’s not in my translator- what?

Miko:… what you mean… you mean “shit?”

Ratchet: …I’m not getting a definition. What- oh. did you make that up and now you’re messing with me? I see. *chuckles* You got me, very funny- I’ll give you credit for that. Very creative.

Miko: *deadpan* I’ve never been so serious Ratchet- you don’t actually know how to swear in English do you.

Ratchet: Now- see here Ive been around the block too many gosh darn times to not use my darn words how the heck I want to.

Miko: Raf fire up google- pops over here doesn’t believe me.

{Later that day}

Optimus: good afternoon ratchet-

Ratchet: you fucking censored my Damn translator???

Optimus: *pained expression followed by defeated sigh*

#seytazen’s drabbles #daily does of headcannons #transformers prime #tfp optimus prime #tfp ratchet #funny #at least i think it is

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jrmoncheri · 16 days

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f!rottmnt ( just— a time of angst )

some plot stuck in my head 😫🫴 * just a short plot written waiting for completion my >hc *

it took me by surprise

big happy family

ever since Casey ( jr ) was old enough to remember , he grew up with two uncles , Leonardo and Michelangelo

his mother Cassandra , lives away with his aunt April , they run another survivor base ( Draxum or most of the Yōkai are here , for a time Mikey and CJ was stationed at this camp too but at some point Mikey went back to live with his brother with CJ asking to follow along )

at first , it was a rather awkward

Leo and Mikey were like people who didn't know each other , they just looked at each other and someone broke the silence with a short saying;hey

that made CJ quite confused because he was sure that they were brothers who loved each other very much from what he had heard , Mikey always talked about his life in the past , it was beautiful , fun and maybe very sad and painful but everything together is happy

so , what happened here ?

CJ never asked , no one has ever told

Leo didn't look anything like Mikey had described , he wasn't fun , playful or good at smiling ? he was stressed , had wrinkles , looked tired , worn out and seemed to be somewhere else all the time , CJ could tell he tried to smile at Mikey sometimes but in the end , he ended up with a blank face , averted eyes and left

Mikey himself was not much different , he was usually tired all the time from Ninpō that was eating away at him bit by bit little by little , he is a strong but his body never said that ( symptoms of strong power but the body is not ready to accept it ) now he looked more tired than befor even though he still has the same gentle smile as always , Mikey deteriorated greatly until one day he couldn't train CJ anymore , Leo always refuses to leave his comfort zone , he is quite closed off but when he sent his little brother to rest that day , that was the first time in many years that he decided to step out and receives CJ into his personal space , Leo is pretty good even though he only has one arm ( he doesn't have a prosthetic arm just yet ) CJ had asked what happened to his arm ( Krang took your arm ? ) but Leo didn't really answer ( it's a difficult thing to explain , kid )

Mikey is slightly better enough that he's glad to see CJ and Leo getting along well before his condition worsened again Leo says that Mikey was like this once in the past it is a symptom of the body being overloaded , he would die if he wasn't treated properly and only person capable of doing that that Leo knew right now was Draxum but when Leo contacted to April to tell her what happened for her to contact Draxum , she replied;Draxum is a long way to walk now , he was on his way and it wasn't until he returned to camp and traveled here Leo thought it wouldn't be in time because Mikey's condition is only getting worse and worse quickly , April says she will try to contact Draxum and will leave as soon as possible , it was then that she advised Leo to go back to him , CJ could really feel Leo's tension , Leo denied it but April said had no choice , he was able to relieve Mikey's symptoms ( we need his help )

Leo was clearly troubled but in the end he decided to go ask for help , traveling nowadays is quite risky but today it was mostly quiet , Leo says that because it's Donatello's territory some of the technology he created made it impossible for Krang to find him and his location , Including anyone who intends to find him , CJ was about to ask about someone named Donatello but then he let out a loud yelp of surprise when his ankle was grabbed by a hidden rope and pulled up until he was hanging upside down , it's a trap and Leo had to try to carry Mikey while fighting and dodging mostly purple-covered figures , the person in the purple technology device was very fast , probably as fast as Leo ? no .. faster , from agility perspective

Leo is at a disadvantage and in the end , he collapsed trying to protect Mikey's body , Purple tries to finish him and at that moment CJ cut himself from the rope , he landed beautifully on the ground ( superhero landing 💀💀💀 ??? ) and used everything he had trained to charge at that person and— got hit with a Bō and the mask broke , everything happened so quickly , was dizzy and tossed and somersaulted

" NO ! DONNIE ! HE IS CANSANDRA'S SON !! "

and— that was the first time CJ met his third uncle

, Donatello

yeah , well— they fought in my >hc , sorry- I might continue writing if anyone wants to read it lol ( or I might seriously consider writing it and putting it in ao3 👍 )

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doctor-badadvice · 3 months

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Something I really like about Fast Forward is that it's doing a bit and you know it's doing a bit, just not the one you may think.

At first, it tells you that this is the world to come after the Shredder(s) has been defeated and all evil has been banished:

But then it does a backflip and goes "ACTUALLY, this is what happens when Bishop is left unsupervised for fifty years!"

Which is the funniest thing they could ever do.

I admit I wasn't entirely sold on the president thing at first. Bishop is so unapologetically a piece of shit up to his appearance in FF that it just can't be, right? But then the show goes on to introduce more details about this supposed bright future and it starts to really sink in that it actually has Bishop written all over it.

As much as I love the idea of Bishop finally going to therapy, what's really implied is that one day he stopped trying to create the perfect genetic abomination and started to study vertical urbanization. New New York exists on multiple levels, all resting on the old city, with different lanes for hovercars and basically several mini atmospheres. Unless common people were suddenly perfectly fine with aliens showing up to reshape everybody's homes, someone who already had experience with alien technology had to be involved.

This is also probably one of the last major operations of the EPF as such before it was converted in, I guess, the first elite security force for the PGA. It's a shame they had to start dressing like mini Megatrons, but they had to curate their PR like the soon to be president. From this point onward, Bishop probably had a saying in just about everything else. He sponsored the alliance and probably suggested androids should be allowed to vote at some point. As he had come to believe that dialogue was an option, he definitely pushed to sell the idea that welcoming aliens was the way into the new utopia in ways his old self would have never dreamed of.

Logistics aside, it’s clear that Bishop has worked to make himself a central piece (pun intended) of this new system which is definitely an improvement, as he won’t make his fear of total annihilation everybody else's problem anymore, but it's also much worse than it was before.

And this is where not even rocking a dress will hide that he's still the same old bastard at heart. Yes, he's the president and he's very popular. But he's still the guy who complimented the Slayer's looks too and his ego hasn't vanished overnight. It's safe to say the president of the PGA would have the power to avoid having his name being put on the goddamn Moon but no, he's definitely gloated about Moonbase Bishop more than once.

Which brings me back to this damn statue again.

This is not healthy.

And a little surprising. I mean, I get the joke. This is the Prometheus statue that's at that one ice skating rink in New York but it's Bishop at the zero gravity rink. It's also funny in contest considering Prometheus is one of the Titans in Greek mythology and it's featured in the episode Clash of the Turtle Titans and I love that Bishop has supposedly sworn off violence and isn't playing preferences but still managed to suplex a guy in spirit.

But still, Atlas would have been more appropriate. Bishop is absolutely convinced that he's the PGA the way he was EPF. It would be more fitting, but I understand the world just isn't ready for the President's bare chest.

#or at least the US wouldn't be ready #I bet there's a shirtless Bishop statue somewhere in FF Europe #where human anatomy isn't forbidden from being exposed in public #Agent Bishop #discussing all the implications of this dumbass being president has been incredibly fun #it's a gift that keeps on giving

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atmymercy · 10 months

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iCarly Fanfic

Title: Carly will never love you.

Summary:

Freddie Benson thought Carly Shay would never return his feelings and the certain words of an old friend keep playing in his head. A mantra. A motto. A binding. Can he get past it?

iCarly Reboot. Post 3.04.

[ a03 link ]

Freddie was supposed to be the tech guy. The one who put all his hopes and dreams into technology and all the wires that came included. The person behind the camera, ready to talk shop about why processors mattered and so on but never to really be seen or noticed much. The crew guy who was always ready to learn when it came to gadgets and programming.

That's what Freddie knew he was always destined for.

Yet everything in his life would always be redirected to his newly founded source of hope; found at an age that most others would balk at.

Carly.

She was this beautiful virus that rewrote his code one day and he's never been able to reset his heart back to its default state after having known her.

It didn't matter that boys his age usually didn't fall so undeniably in love so fast. It didn't matter that she only saw him as a friend. It didn't matter when people would say:

'Carly will never love you.'

It didn't matter.

That's what no one ever understood. Yes, their words hurt. Especially when they would say this straight to his face or worse, laugh. He wasn't inhuman. He felt all those words.

But love didn't make sense. All Carly had to do was smile and get that twinkle in her eye and he was suddenly in some insane scheme in hopes of just making her happy for another day. They may have just been kids but Carly Shay taught him what love was. He would never forget that.

And Freddie didn't want to break the glass on love but if you didn't already know… Love was unconditional.

So he didn't care if the status of best friend was the best he would ever get. It was all he needed. It would hurt when Carly would fall for some guy but Freddie had long regaled himself to guardian angel status in Carly's life.

Always there to help but never the main focus.

This was called iCarly for a reason.

'Carly will never love you.'

This truth became solidified in his body after Italy. While love was unconditional, Italy was the event that taught Freddie that a heart could still break while feelings pulsed on. He stopped officially chasing her that day. Instead, he took his duties as guardian angel seriously and let his deeper emotions for the angel, Carly pass through him like compliments on a breeze.

Nice to notice from time to time but never meant to go to his head or Freddie lost all sense of self. Now he let the yearning words or impulsions faze through him like a train through the mountainside. The train of Carly Shay and how amazing she always smelled would pass through the mountain. He was the scenic pass through the mountainside. Always a nice view but never an actual stop for Carly.

He had to quit hoping her train would ever notice his stop.

How can you miss something that was never bound to happen?

Especially when he was a gentleman. He never told her how she had shattered him on that trip. Sometimes moments were only meant to be memories. A miracle that they got as close as they did.

A lost wish.

'Carly will never love you.'

This piece of history feels true and blatantly, painfully alive when he gets divorced again. And he's ashamed of his romantic past, marriages and all. He didn't regret any of it but he felt too young to be saying twice divorced already, right? It wasn't exactly a glowing award and let's not talk about his start-ups right now or he might start to think that there was something seriously wrong with him…

And then there was Carly. Still and always a beautiful, successful angel who could give his knees a fall if he didn't place the strong almost impenetrable barriers he had built over the years to ensure their best friend status in each other's life came first. Harper, be damned! Nothing could chip this friendship as long as he was concerned, not even his own asinine ideas.

Or heart.

She had it all and he was happy for her. It was fine if Beau was a focal factor in it. Freddie already had resigned himself to be the wedding cameraman for whatever wedding Carly would inevitably have one day. It would be easier to hide his tears from behind the lens.

He was just grateful for the important part he always played in Carly's life, no matter how busy or hectic either of their lives became.

"In five, four, three-"

'Carly will never love you.'

It seems like such a staple in his life until it's not. Until the whiplash of his life. She liked him; Wanted to date him, even! Holy shit, she was kissing him! And then the final tug at his heart, she loved him. Carly loved him. His best friend loved him back. Nothing and everything seemed real.

Even as she cuddled into his side with a soft smile on her lips. "I still can't believe we actually did it. Everyone knows that we, you know," her eyes flickered in a way that spoke of that slight shyness that they seemed to have attained with their newly-dating status.

Or maybe because she was referring to the words they had yet to say to one another without an audience, live stream or camera placed in their face. It was just them together now.

And nothing could get the stupid grin off his face. "Oh, you mean how we accidentally told everyone and then we did it again on purpose for the second try?" he joked, thinking of how professional he had tried to make the announcement only for it to fall to axed pieces when Carly went all she-wolf on the transmitter for their love.

"And I'd do it again," she passionately declared, having to sit up a bit as she spoke.

And Freddie grinned more, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she answered, her voice growing soft again. "Because…"

'Carly will never love you.'

He hates that these words return to him then. Even after all these years, those words could tickle his brain and sink him into the past in a blink. He's standing there in their old school for a cold moment but the fear doesn't come and he finds if anything his heart is actually beating faster in anticipation, rather than dread as the past seemed to slip away from his vision and only Carly came into view. Her eyes twinkled in that special way she could that was directed and focused on him. The city noise and his hearing corrected in time for the words he's always waited on.

"I love you, Freddie Benson."

Carly Shay loved him, Freddie Benson.

"Not as much as I love you."

And before she could try and argue it over, he swept forward. He kissed her like he knew she had always been perfect and worth waiting for, even if it got him nowhere. While he couldn't be that sweet puppy that followed her around anymore like when they were kids, he had been willing to go his whole lifetime, not knowing how her love felt as long as it meant he could be someone important to her.

And yet in this moment, he felt just as important to her as she had been to him and he realized he wasn’t going to have to wait but actually be beside her now. He never thought that their relationship could deepen further again as they sunk into each other.

"Uh… Are you all starting to get cold too!?" Spencer yelled to no one in particular.

Oh yeah, and they were still stuck on the roof.

"Do you think there's any more booze up here?" Harper's voice rang out next.

"Maybe if I had remembered the picnic basket…" Carly said after pulling back from their kiss after a small smile was sent Freddie’s way. She got up from their assorted blankets to join the group again by the edge. Private moment over for now.

He watched them strategize about how to get off the roof as he sat up and he wondered how his life came to be this.

So fucking filled with love.

ps. omg ofc 'i will wait - by mumford & sons' is playing as i post this... lolol too cute! i can't wait! yet, yes more! please! lol

#tea writing #icarly #creddie #carly shay #carly x freddie #freddie x carly #icarly revival #icarly reboot #creddie fanfic

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writing-whump · 11 months

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There is no hurry

Anneliese helping Julian part 2

Anneliese brings Julian to her apartment, worried about him. Continuation of this part. Warning for vomiting.

----------

Julian didn’t seem to notice they weren’t going to his dorm room until the car stopped.

He blinked sleepily at Anneliese. “Where…?”

She bit her lip. After half an hour of debating in her head, she decided to take Julian to her apartment. As a university assistant, she had a pay and as an Erasmus student she had the right for the limited apartments at the university campus. Which meant she had a real student apartment for herself and her roommate, with two separate rooms, their own kitchen and - the most relevant in this case - their own bathroom.

Anneliese could not, by good consciousness, let Julian go back to the dorms, suffer that crappy small bathroom and be alone. Not in this state, not since he appointed her to be in charge.

Aside from the whole confusion Julian not wanting to see Ryan - how was that even supposed to work, when they were roommates? - it seemed unlikely he was home. Otherwise he would already notice Julian was missing and would be hunting him down.

So Anneliese put her long wavy hair up in a bun, circled the car and made a decision. Penn was visiting her family during the weekends anyway and if she got back, as much as Anneliese probably shouldn’t be inviting sick guests, no one could deny Anneliese her room.

She opened the door on Julian’s side, offering her hand. “Come on.”

Julian was still blinking uneasily, but didn’t protest, taking her hand. Wrapping her arm around his waist, they stumbled out of the car and towards the elevators that Anneliese really came to appreciate at that moment.

Locking the door open with Julian swaying beside her turned out to be a bit of a challenge that made her perfect her skill in one hand key turns. Julian all but crashed into the couch near the door, relieved to finally be able to lie down on his back.

“You could have just taken me home,” he protested half-heartedly, shrugging off his jeans jacket.

“You could just say thanks,” she answered, dropping her handbag and rushing to change clothes. Her suit jacket wasn’t exactly a good match for this situation.

She returned to Julian in record time, bringing a thermometer, wash basin, wet towel, herbal drops,...

“You are stocked like a doctor,” Julian said, raising an eyebrow.

“My biggest fear about this whole exchange programme and visiting another country away from your whole support network was getting sick,” she admitted as she collected all the things on the small living room table. “Get this under your arm. It’s old-fashioned, but I don’t trust the digital playthings they sell as 'exact' one bit.”

Julian smiled at that and obeyed. “You must be the only person I know who prefers analogue over digital.”

“Pff. The term analogue was made after the term digital. As a way to distinguish new technological devices. I will let you know, CDs were considered digital just a few decades ago.” She put the wet hand towel to his cheek, wiping the sweat and dried drool away.

Juls furrowed his eyebrows at that, then sighted and leaned back into the couch, giving up on understanding it. “One of these days, you gotta explain to me again what exactly you are studying.”

“I will, once your fever goes down,” she said, appreciating the effort. Most people didn’t understand what cultural studies were after hearing the word. “How are you feeling?”

“Been better. Been worse.”

“Not very helpful. Try to be more specific,” she chided, sliding the towel down his neck and taking the thermometer out. He seemed so hot to the touch, but his fever wasn’t high. Just slightly raised.

“Stomach hurts. Head hurts. Life hurts. What else is new.” He kept his eyes closed as he spoke, one hand sliding to his stomach. It was pretty quiet in contrast to the previous churning. She had high hopes for it.

“You think you could keep some of this water down? Electrolytes against dehydration,” she offered him the glass. Julian didn’t move to rise from his lying position, his face scrunching up.

“Ugh. Don’t think so.”

“I get it. But just a few sips would really help you.”

He wrinkled his nose, but obeyed. Gingerly, he took the glass and took a couple of very small, slow sips. “That’s gotta be enough. I don’t want to give my stomach more ammunition.”

She shook her head, but accepted the glass back. “Fine. Try to get some rest then. I will wake you up in a few, to make you drink it more.”

A corner of his mouth pulled up. “I’m counting on it.”

Anneliese chuckled at that. At least he trusted her with taking that responsibility on herself. Kind of cute.

Fetching her ereader, she settled for the armchair in the opposite corner to keep watch. If Julian drank the water and didn’t throw up until the evening, maybe she could send him home…or maybe better in the morning?

–

There wasn’t any warning.

One minute she was completely taken in by a new study she found, highlighting a good quote, and the next there was a high pitched retch piercing her thoughts.

No groaning, no churning, nothing. Julian was soundly asleep and then he was vomiting bile, violently.

Anneliese jumped from the armchair to his side. He was blinking rapidly, face scrunched up. His body spasmed again and his whole back moved as he heaved over the edge of the sofa. There was whitish watery bile on his hands and pooling down on the floor under him, but his body was still jerking.

She didn’t know where to put her hands, what crisis to address first. He was still heaving, like something took over his body and wrung him from the inside. Moving without his own volition.

“Okay. Okay. Breathe, Juls. Just breathe.” What else could she say?

He finally stopped, mouth hanging open, taking deep ragged laboured breaths. His eyes raised to hers in horror.

“Anneliese, I’m so sorry. I don-n’t- don’t know what happened, I-I-suddenly-” he coughed and gagged, balling his hands into fists, but nothing came up.

“Pssshh. It’s okay. You are okay.”

“-s not okay.” He was on the verge of tears.

Anneliese grabbed the hand towel, almost dried by this point and quickly wiped his hands and chin clean. There was a small pool of vomit on the edge, dripping onto the mess on the floor. His shirt would need changing too.

“This is nothing, Juls. You are going to be okay.”

Was he though? She was counting on his nausea receding after sleep, that she could finally get more water in him. What was his body even rejecting? He woke up so violently too, out of nowhere.

“I’m so sorry,” he whined. His breathing wasn’t slowing.

“Hey.” She took his face into her hands then, gently but firmly pushing both palms against his cheeks. “You are okay. You are sick, but you are okay. We can do this. Don’t stress about it.” Anneliese hoped it sounded as convincing to him as it did to her.

Julian’s hazy eyes focused on her and he gulped. She never watched his eyes from this close up. They weren’t just green, they had a deep sea hue to them. She stroked his cheek with her thumb. “Psshh.”

Julian shook his head, but his breathing slowed a little. He breathed in through his mouth and out his nose. Deliberate. Slow. Practiced.

“I’m not sick, Ann. I’m sorry.”

Anneliese blinked at him in confusion, but kept her hold on him. “Don’t be sorry. Just tell me what to do.” She didn’t really get it yet, but he seemed to know.

He leaned his head back and she let go immediately. Still not looking at her, he pointed at the towel discarded on the floor. “Please.”

She nodded and stood up, feeling better with something to do. When she brought a fresh hand towel soaked back, he gratefully took it, lying down again, spreading it over his forehead.

He curled up on his side, cradling his stomach. Confusion kept her rooted in place, before she jumped into action again, fetching paper towels to clean the floor with and then positioned the basin at the place. Maybe it could catch more if it was right under him.

She sat down beside Julian, patting the back of his leg gently. “Hi. Talk to me.”

“...Stomach still cramping hard.”

“The nausea still there?”

“A little.”

“How long since this started?”

Julian squeezed his eyes shut. “Didn’t eat breakfast. Threw up on the way to grab some lunch.”

“You felt bad in the morning already?”

“Just queasy. Happens after nightmares.”

Okay. She wasn’t sure what to do with this new information. Was he having bad dreams because of a bug starting or did he get sick because of the nightmares?

“Did you dream about something now?” Anneliese kept her voice hushed.

Something like a whine cough in his throat and he turned his face against the sofa completely. As if he wanted to dive into it and disappear.

“Juls.” She didn’t know what to say. What if this was more of a psychological problem? Hardly enough information for this, but it reminded her of the stress migraines and heartburn her mom had.

A groan escaped his lips and he curled up even more into himself. “Au.” He opened his eyes slowly, green blue glittering with rain. “I’m so sorry. It’s so lame to get this from over-stressing. I shouldn’t be bothering you with this.” He sounded angry at himself. By now he was just a shaking miserable ball on her couch, all long limbs and lean muscles jumbled together.

She wasn’t sure what she was allowed to ask. So many questions, but non felt not inquisitive. Where’s the line with knowing someone for a few weeks, inviting him home for an emergency and finding out he is stress puking? “How... often does it happen?”

“Not that often anymore. I thought maybe it wouldn’t…”

“Still nothing to apologise for, Juls. I’m glad you aren’t sick at least.”

He scoffed, pulling his arm over his forehead. “At least that would have been outside of my control. But this? This is just stupid.”

“It’s not stupid to be stressed out and I don’t think it’s in your control either. Our bodies are strongly connected to our emotions. It catches up to everyone, one way or another.” She resumed patting his leg gently. “Anything else I can do? Hot water bottles are real good for cramps if you want some…”

Anneliese wished she could offer something more. She knew her mother’s life from the inside out. She knew exactly what emotion, what event, what crisis could trigger a headache, what would make her upset. Many times she talked her out of some. Many times she guided her through them. She felt like she could help more, if she just knew more.

He shook his head. “I should go home.”

“You can stay here as long as you like.”

“Well. It’s not like I can spare you the nasty sights anymore.”

His jacket vibrated then. She looked up to the chair at the table she threw it over. Someone was calling him.

“No. Don’t,” he said, as she started to get up to bring it over. “I know who’s calling.”

Ryan?

“You should let him know where you are. He could be worried,” she offered, keeping her voice soft and careful.

Julian shook his head again. “He will just want to come pick me up. Make a big deal out of it.” He curled even more into himself.

And that’s bad, how? She wanted to ask so badly, but didn’t feel like it was her place.

As pitiful as Julian looked, all shivering and curled up on her couch, his sea blue eyes watched her with surprising intensity.

“Alright.” She raised her hands in surrender. He relaxed visibly at that, unwrapping himself. One hand travelled to pillow his head and one to loosely lie on his stomach.

“Thank you. Can you just…stay here until I fall asleep? I swear I will sleep this off and leave you alone in an hour or so.”

She sighted and sat down on the floor, leaning her back against the couch. “Of course. There is no hurry.” Why did she feel so protective of him, when he looked like that? All soft and vulnerable and confusing, but with puppy eyes blinking sleepily at her.

He felt so close and so distant at the same time. One day I’m going to figure you guys out, I swear.

#sickfic #emeto #hurt/comfort #friendship #emeto fic #vomiting #whump #hurt and comfort #Anneliese #Julian #wip: guarded hearts #my writing

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bratprinced · 5 months

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The fact that Lestat absolutely adored Claudia & thought of her as his own daughter really broke me today. He really believed that she was just like him . . . come to find out that they were a little too alike.

Lestat loves buying things, he is a strong believer in retail therapy. I do not know how he has endless pits of money but he does. He will buy people gifts to get out of an argument. He will also buy himself something right after said argument to make himself feel better. He enjoys online shopping as well as going to the stores, filling up those little baskets that stores have available at the front, and window shopping. Modern technology is dangerous for someone like him because of all the adds. If he sees something he likes; ( ex. a pair of shades or a blanket ) he'll buy it.

Lestat is uncomfortable when he's not the center of attention. He also laughs when he is nervous & or uncomfortable. ( which happens all the time. Do not ask him anything serious, he'll just laugh . . . well for the most part. ) As an actor, he is also extremely dramatic, as everyone knows . . . . but considering he must be the center of attention he shows himself in a theatricality & exaggerated way. Even with his story telling !

buuut I do think he believes his looks are mid. Not that it's a bad thing, he does have a coincided personality trait & extreme vanity but despite that he think he's one of the most conventional looking vampires. He believes that there are much more interesting & beautiful vampires out there, he may just never admit that is all.

He actually really loved the Monastery school & really enjoyed himself. He spent hours upon hours in the libraries reading nothing but old books, rituals, attempted to learn other languages too. He loved the cleanliness & enjoyed how things were kept in a good repair only to carry that on to how he lives now. He appreciates things clean & tidy. He was not good at learning how to become a priest but the least he could do is be good at reading, writing, & keeping himself clean. He even spends hours polishing his coffin & I also think he spends hours cleaning / washing his motorcycles.

Lestat is a dad. I mean he loves puns, he finds them funny. Knock Knock jokes are hilarious. The worse the joke is the better. He even has those stupid joke books around his home so he can pick them up when he is bored & have a good laugh.

#stuff I thought of today while at the doctors #「 lonely vampire. 」

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marsssbarrrr · 1 year

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Abandoned Buildings

Koro Sensei [Ryushi Korogane] x Assassin!Experimented!Reader

Had this idea for a while, just rewatched Ass.Class and thought I’d write it. 100% SFW don’t worry lol (I don’t write a lot of NSFW)

Synopsis: You met the infamous Reaper on an assassination job. Things…happened from there.

—

This was his apartment. The infamous “Reaper”.

He’d taken out your client’s son, and his grandson had since gone missing.

Personally, you didn’t care much. So what? The snot-nosed kid probably saw his dad get taken out. He was either running and hiding or the Reaper had taken him out too.

What the Reaper did wasn’t really your business. He was an assassin. A professional. Your were the same. Money is Money, though. And with the amount this guy was paying you, there wasn’t really room to refuse.

No one really knew anything about the Reaper. But to you, that only made this job more exciting.

You were a pretty techy girl. A city’s security cameras and a few quick firewalls broken through and his info was yours. He wasn’t very tech savvy, not the way you were.

You were now the only individual in all of Japan who knew where he holed up between jobs. The place was rundown. People in the other rooms dealing and doing drugs had no effect on you. You’d seen worse, seen much more sketchy.

His apartment was on the 3rd floor. You were perched up on the building adjacent, across the street. His black out curtains were drawn, but that did little to hide the small boy peeking through. Probably the grandson, you thought. Your client had paid a decent amount of money, and had an extra couple thousand waiting if you brought him back safe and sound.

Something clicked behind you. The roof access door. Shit.

You swing around, reaching for the knife in your thigh holster. But he was quicker. In seconds your front side was pinned against the wall near your spot, your sniper was abandoned and your knife clattered against the floor. The right side of your face burned against the rough material of the wall, and your neck was tense from the harshness of the impact. You could see his face.

He held your hands behind your back, knee between your legs and his right hand holding a gun to your back.

“And who might you be, sweet cheeks?”

You gritted your teeth. Damn it.

The man chuckled.

“Y/N.” You responded. “And who in the hell are you?”

He smiled. “I have a feeling you know exactly who I am.”

…fuck. The Reaper.

“Listen, hon. You’re good. Nobody’s ever been able to find me out the way you did. Place is under an old targets name and… well, you probably know the rest.”

You did. His money was dirty, and he likely was using the boy inside as either a decoy. He was good.

“Who sent you?”

He dug the gun harder into your back, his index finger firm against the trigger.

You stayed silent.

“Fine, then.” He smile turned to a dark smirk. “I have no trouble turning to torture tactics. This area is pretty sketchy, so no one will question this.”

He moved the gun down, shooting you through the thigh. You groaned, stifling a scream. The gun was moved up to your back again.

“Tell me who sent you, and I won’t have to waste your pretty face.”

You sighed. “You killed my targets son. Took his grandkid. He didn’t tell me his name, paid me a fuckton to bring him your body.”

“Huh. Shoulda figured.”

He stepped back, letting go of you and scratching his head with the barrel of his gun. You moved quickly, snatching up your knife and shoving him to the ground. His gun clattered to the right and you held the knife against his throat.

“Listen. Personally, I don’t give a crap what you do or who your targets do. Honestly, you did some pretty good work with that guy. But this is a lot of money, and I need it.”

He didn’t even struggle. Just laughed.

“Oh, I like you, sweet cheeks. Listen, how’s about you come work for me instead? I’m no good with all that technology crap and I can do a whole lot more for you than that old rich guy can. Just fine me his info.”

You clenched your teeth again. “What’s in it for me?”

“Warm food on the table. Companionship. Better compensation from clients when word gets out you’re workin’ with the Reaper.”

You pulled the knife away after a moment. Fine. You’d play his game.

“L/N. Y/N L/N.”

You helped him up.

“Ryushi Korogane.”

—

You banged your fist against the glass. Damn it. This was supposed to be a quick job. In and out. You should’ve known. The compensation was suspiciously high, the target to insignificant. Ryushi knew it was fishy but you’d insisted. And now here you were. Rooms away from him and stuck in some glass holding space. An Experiment, you’d been told.

That’s all you were now. A test subject.

From what you could find out, Ryushi was undergoing the same “treatments” you were. Tentacle Serum injected into the back of your neck. It had been months now. Assholes.

You hadn’t seen him. After months you’d learned to love the goofy pervert, and you’d gotten engaged shortly before the little shit you’d learned to love betrayed you. They’d taken your ring, the necklace Ryushi had stood for you, and all your clothes. A white sweater and sweatpants adorned your now frail body. They gave you the bare minimum in the form of nutrients, and it did little to keep you steady these days.

Yukimura walked through the door.

“Y/N. Good to see you.” You didn’t quite trust her. The way she talked about Ryushi rubbed you the wrong way. You’d lived your whole life reading people and you could tell. She liked him.

“Yukimura. My food, please?”

“Listen.” She started, pushing the button to get you your stale food and bottled water. “They’re transferring you. A new facility. They need to separate you and the Korogane. The two of you are due to combust March 13.”

You dropped the water, head spinning. Spiked.

When you collapsed, alarms started ringing. A message came over the over-com. Ryushi was out.

That’s all you heard before the world went black.

—

You fast as you could up the mountain. He was here, you knew it. You’d found him. Class 3-E, Yukimura’s old class.

You’d escaped your facility days after the one you’d formerly been held captive was destroyed by Ryushi. After months, eight to be exact, you’d finally found him. The government officials weren’t hard to beat answers out of.

Your tentacles sprouted from your neck, pulling you faster.

All the color had been sucked from your body. You were an ugly gray color, your hair a lighter color of pale white. Your body hadn’t changed much physically, other than color and tentacles. You briefly wondered what had happened to him.

You stopped short. The class building.

It was Wednesday. Almost 10pm. Abandoned, except for him.

You panted. You didn’t have supersonic speed like he apparently had. You couldn’t smell like he could or see. But that was hardly an issue for you.

Something snapped behind you.

“Hey there, sweet cheeks.”

You spun around. It was him

“Ryushi.”

—

Might make a part two is someone asks for it. But for now, this is all :)

#koro sensei #assassination classroom #assassination classroom x reader #koro sensei x reader #assassination

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purplecowbell · 1 year

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Black Mirror: A Boring Twilight Zone

When I tell people I love The Twilight Zone, both the original series and the reboot, the first thing out of their mouths is, “You should check out Black Mirror.” I suppress a cringe, thank them for their recommendation, and then never follow through. I don’t because I’ve already tried it, and I don’t think it compares.

I understand why people keep comparing Black Mirror to The Twilight Zone; it’s certainly a more contemporary perspective on issues (at least if you ignore the more recent reboots like many people seem to do), but the actual core of the shows, how and why they depict their speculative worlds, are very different. I apologize for using an insulting title to the Black Mirror fans, but for someone who’s looking for The Twilight Zone, it just does not scratch the right itch for me.

In The Twilight Zone, the writers cover a wide variety of topics. They explore mob mentality, our perception of aliens, and “the other.” They explore tragic stories of luck and ignorant selfishness, and praise heroic stories with martyrs and rebels. My favorite types of Twilight Zone episodes are ones in which there’s no strong message, just Rod Sterling shows up at the end with, “Well, wasn’t that crazy?” There was one episode (“A World of His Own”) where a playwright had a god-like ability to create people and destroyed his old wife to make a new one, and when Rod Sterling starts to narrate at the end, the author interrupts to destroy Rod Sterling. But The Twilight Zone also isn’t afraid of covering serious issues, whether cynical or optimistic, individual or societal. The show can jump from an episode about the mentality of witch hunts and colonization (“Will the Real Martian Stand Up?”) to one about the value of education against tyrannies and the importance of heroic public acts (“The Obsolete Man”). This wide range of diversity allows The Twilight Zone to cover an entire spectrum of imagination and the human condition, whether silly or profound. When The Twilight Zone comments on societal ills (which Black Mirror is famous for), it pressures you slightly on what was already there and asks, “Do you really want this to get worse?” Black Mirror, on the other hand, crushes you with the framework of structural problems without relent.

Black Mirror focuses on the problems of technology, and a focus is fine; it allows you to really get into the granular details. But unfortunately (for The Twilight Zone fans) the exploration of technology is through a singular cynical lens. Every single story is, without fail, a dystopia, for both those who “deserve” it and those who don’t. Some people have argued that this consistency makes Black Mirror intrinsically better, but I don’t read or watch anthologies for repetition. The characters are less “characters” and more cogs in the machine that happen to be human-shaped. No story satisfyingly breaks from the horrific status quo, and the show usually depicts a snapshot of people that could be happening an infinite number of times in other places of the world. Many times the story ends on just the note: “And then everything continues.” The only episodes that I felt were deviations from this were “The Waldo Moment,” “Nosedive,” and “USS Callister.” These are the only episodes where either the characters felt like they mattered (The Waldo Moment), where the ending showed some upside to deviation from the system (Nosedive) or a combination of the two (USS Callister). The emotional spectrum of the characters ranges from black, to gray, to brown, to artificial-happy-yellow. For a show set in the 21st century, its characters are sometimes more black and white than the Twilight Zone in the 1960s. But that’s not a sin; you’re not supposed to worry about complex characters in the anthology episode format. The lack of complexity does, however, clash with the episode length. Most episodes last around an hour, frequently longer, and watching the same emotional shades in the same episode over and over again without disruption for an hour is like watching paint dry. The problem here isn’t all of what I listed; these are mostly personal preferences that some may enjoy. The problem is that even with these qualities and differences, Black Mirror is still being recommended to Twilight Zone fans.

Just because a work of media is of the same format (speculative anthology) does not mean it satisfies the same itch. If someone watched The Twilight Zone for the dystopian episodes like “The Obsolete Man,” or “It’s a Good Life,” or warnings of technology like “The Lateness of the Hour,” (which is a hilarious episode to take as a serious critique against technology), then the connection between Black Mirror and The Twilight Zone is natural to them. But The Twilight Zone had more episodes than those three. Ask 100 different Twilight Zone fans which episode stands out the most to them, and you’ll probably get 50 different answers (I’m not going to pretend some episodes aren’t more popular than others). Ask 100 Black Mirror fans which episode stands out the most, and they’ll probably say, “The one where a politician has sex with a pig.” Black Mirror has two tools at its disposal: shock value and contemporary despair. I have no interest in being bludgeoned to death with either of these.

I ask that Black Mirror fans try to understand their relationship with the genre. Just because The Twilight Zone and Black Mirror are the most popular shows in said genre does not mean they share additional similarities. I also ask that they understand that Black Mirror is not an objective upgrade from The Twilight Zone just because Black Mirror’s differences are more enjoyable for them. I suggest that fans of both shows watch other series to better understand what would actually be relevant to recommend, instead of just suggesting one show to fans of the other. Shows like American Horror Story, The Outer Limits, Solos, and Love Death & Robots might really scratch an itch you didn’t even know you had.

#black mirror #the twilight zone #twilight zone #anthology tv shows #sci fi #science fiction #media criticism #tv show review #Again #sorry to black mirror fans #but please watch other shows #or at least check them out

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shychick-52 · 9 months

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Day 4: Invention Gone Wrong for @donro-week

Donald was jolted from his afternoon nap by what could only be identified as an explosion.

With a screech, the duck found himself hovering above the hammock for all of two seconds, trembling vehemently, before landing face-first on his pristinely-tended lawn.

He shoved to his feet, straightening his beak and taking a deep breath. After allowing himself a moment to calm down, he realized the most likely source of the chaos. A look to his immediate right, at his next door-neighbor and boyfriend’s house- the thick plume of smoke pouring from one of the windows- immediately confirmed his suspicion.

Donald wasted no time heading over. He wasn’t too worried. After all, lab accidents and backfiring inventions were a common occurrence for Gyro, as much as a genius as he was. But he always preferred to check up on him when he could, just in case.

As usual, the front door was open. Donald immediately covered his beak and set about battling the haze with his hat. “Gyro?” he called. “You ok?”

Gradually, the air cleared like an unveiling curtain, revealing the room looking like a disaster zone. In even worse shape was the charred, tattered state of Gyro’s clothing and feathers.

“Hi, Donald.” The blonde grinned sheepishly as he cleaned his cracked spectacles on his sleeve, and Donald wondered if he realized one of the lenses was missing. He turned away to cough from the remaining cloud of smoke. “Don’t worry, it’s not as bad as it looks.”

Donald folded his arms. “Do you mean your house or you?” he asked a touch sardonically.

“Er…both?”

Either ignoring or failing to notice Donald shaking his head in amused exasperation, Gyro added with a frown, “Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for her.” He bent and began examining the remains of what appeared to be some kind of robot, which Donald only then noticed in a sizable heap of wires and limbs beside him.

“Aw, Gyro, I’m sorry,” Donald said, moving in to help in whatever way he could. “You’ve been working on that for days. You had such high hopes for that Nanny-bot.”

Gyro gave a resigned chuckle. “Yeah, but maybe this is for the best. I wanted to invent a robot that could help new parents by taking care of all the unpleasant, laborious tasks of raising children, leaving them with only true quality-time to spend with their little ones. But I suppose Mrs. Webster was right- the cold hand of technology is no substitute for the warmth of a parent’s touch in every way.”

Mrs. Webster lived across the street; her son was only six weeks old, which had inspired Gyro to invent such a machine. And even though she strongly disagreed with his viewpoint, that hadn’t stopped him from setting out to prove that it really could be of great use; surely, there would be people who would benefit from it.

“She didn’t have to treat you like you’re some dangerous crackpot or a mad scientist,” Donald angrily muttered. “You meant well.”

“True, but it’s important to try seeing things from others’ perspective too. Failure is not only humbling, but it can help in that. I admit, I can get a bit zealous when I have a new idea.”

Those first two sentences were definitely something Donald had difficulty relating to.

They spent the next hour cleaning up the place, Gyro eagerly chatting about his next invention. Donald, on the other hand, was mostly silent except for the occasional grunt or nod of acknowledgement.

“Donald? Donald!”

“Huh?” Donald blinked, snapping his head up at Gyro. He realized he’d been hearing him as if his head was submerged underwater.

“Are you all right? You seem distracted.”

A pause, then Donald softly frowned. “Well… it’s just that I don’t know how you do it, Gyro,” he replied, setting aside the broom. “You’re the kindest, most hard-working, and positive person I know. No matter how many times your inventions go wrong, or people treat you like a crazy menace or take advantage of you, you never let it get you down. You go about each day with a smile, you never so much as raise your voice, and you never give up. How do you do it? I can’t even experience my hammock folding up on me, or somebody taking the last carton of milk at the store, without losing it.”

Gyro set down the large box of Nanny-bot parts and took a seat at his desk, turning the chair so that he faced Donald. He thoughtfully rested his elbow atop the blueprint-swathed surface, hand against his chin. “Hmm, well, I suppose I just remind myself a positive life and attitude is born from the same thing- the thoughts I think. It’s those thoughts that determine how happy or unhappy I am. Don’t get me wrong, I get angry like everyone else; I’m not a machine. But even though I can't always change or control what happens to me, I can how I react to what happens. I just make a choice each time I’m faced with a situation.”

He held up a finger. “For instance, if an invention goes wrong, I frame it in a positive way. Instead of getting down on myself, I look at it as a challenge, which helps to keep me sharp, inspire me, and keeps the ‘ol wheels turning. And whether or not it’s salvageable, I also focus on all my inventions that were successful.”

“That… actually makes sense,” murmured Donald.

“As for how others see me, well, that’s definitely something beyond my control,” Gyro continued with a chuckle. “So, why waste energy on being bitter about it? I don’t like it- and I’ll be honest, it’s when I’m treated as a simple gadget-man that bothers me even more than when my inventions and I are misunderstood- but some people are just plain ignorant and others have a different way of looking at my inventions (and some views can be quite valid, such as Mrs. Webster’s). Again, I choose to focus on the ones in my life who do appreciate and understand me, as well as all the times my ideas have helped others; and helping to make a difference in the lives of others makes everything else worth it.”

A warm smile spread over Donald’s face. “Those are all the things I love and admire best about you, Gyro. I don’t know what you see in a hot-tempered palooka like me, but you make me twice as lucky as Gladstone.”

They drew in for a kiss. “As far as perseverance goes,” Gyro said earnestly, hands remaining on Donald’s shoulders, “you sell yourself short. No matter how bad things get, and I mean really bad, you keep going. It’s, well, almost ridiculous.”

Donald couldn’t help but grin back, blushing.

As they resumed cleaning, Donald asked, “Say, where’s Little Helper?”

“Oh, I gave him the day off. He’d been busting his bulb helping me on the Nanny-bot all week.”

“And were you planning on joining him after testing it?” Donald wryly asked with a sideways glance.

“Heh, well… you know what a workaholic I am, Donald.”

Donald reached up on tip-toes and kissed his cheek. “I guess you’re not so perfect after all.”

They spent the remainder of the morning curled up together in Donald’s hammock, soon lulled to sleep by the easy chorus of both their content purrs.

QOTD: What is your favorite thing about Gyro Gearloose?

Well, I pretty much answered that in this story. But when it comes to all versions of Gyro across media, it's definitely his perseverance and how he never gives up, no matter how many inventions of his goes wrong. His passion and pride for inventing is really cool!!

#donroweek2023 #donro #donald duck #gyro gearloose #archimede pitagorico #topolino #Shy's stories

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wickedsrest-rp · 10 months

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Name: Lee Miyeon Species: Kitsune Occupation: Radio Talk Show Host / DJ Age: 23 Years Old Played By: Liz Face Claim: Kim Sejeong

"Just because I’m the baby of the family doesn’t mean I’m still crawling around on all fours! I’m walking! Sometimes on paws!"

Some kids complained about their parents being old-fashioned or out of touch. Try literally ancient. Even worse, while plenty of people were the baby of the family, Miyeon was pretty sure it was rare to be considered the infant of the family at age twenty-three. No parent wants to admit when their child is an “oops” baby, but usually, the gap between children is at most a few decades, not a few centuries. Sun-ja could say otherwise all she wanted, but there was no denying that Miyeon was a surprise.

Planned or not, Sun-ja and Jong-yul were determined to give their daughter the best upbringing that they could, never mind the fact that the kitsune hadn’t tried to assimilate into humanity for decades. They found a cozy house in a small town on the coast of Maine and prepared to give Miyeon as much of a stable, normal life as they could. Sure, raising a child was always a lot of work, but how hard could it really be in the 21st century with all the modern technology available? It had to be easier than the last time, there wasn’t even indoor plumbing when they raised her siblings.

As overly supportive as her family was, there was never any pressure on her to overachieve or be the best, so long as she was happy and did her best. It made it frustrating to even attempt to rebel or be an angsty teenager, but Miyeon sure tried. Her childhood and adolescence were a strange mixture of being overprotected and coddled while also being handed immense freedom and autonomy. Miyeon would get grounded for a week after not doing her chores, but would then be allowed to go over to her friend’s as soon as she asked the next day. Sun-ja and Jong-yul didn’t really know what grounded meant, they just knew it was a thing you did to punish teenagers.

The one thing they were firm on, the one thing that she couldn’t even get her brothers to bend the rules on, was how to use her fox powers. What was the point of being a kitsune if she didn’t know how to use her gifts if she couldn’t excel in those? What happened to “doing her best” in that aspect of her life? Her parents never hid what she was from their daughter, but they didn’t exactly embrace it, either. As far as they were concerned, she’d have decades to master her powers and it would all come with time. However, she would never be able to relive her childhood, no matter how many centuries she was on this earth. Why should she rush to grow up?

Well, maybe she wanted to rush to grow up so her family would stop treating her like a child, like she didn’t understand anything and hadn’t lived at all. Sure, she wasn’t ancient, but she was still a kitsune and she wasn’t a child. Having one tail didn’t mean she was just some stupid human with no clue and no powers and no right to live like a real kitsune.

When she moved out and went to university, she thought her family would finally take her seriously and treat her like an adult. She was disappointed to learn that nothing had changed. Miyeon thrived on the independence all the same. She studied journalism and communications, eager to learn and share her opinions with people who would listen and take her seriously. She managed to become a DJ and started her own morning show, building an audience of people who would actually listen to her talk their ears off. It was great, she was great, and she knew it. Sure her parents were proud of her, but they were proud of her for everything. She was pretty sure they would cheer her on for breathing.

And none of her accomplishments had convinced them that it was time to teach her how to master her foxfire or how to live as a true kitsune. She was still only one-tail-old, after all.

It wasn’t fair, enough was enough. Miyeon was done with being the baby, done with being treated like an infant, coddled and protected and sheltered. She was done being in the dark and she was going to prove that she was worthy of respect. How was she going to do that? Easy. She was going to earn more tails and learn how to master her powers all on her own. Screw waiting a whole freaking hundred years for her second tail. She knew there was some way out there to earn them, her mother told her as much in those bedtime stories she told Miyeon when she was a kid. Only, Miyeon wasn’t sure how a kitsune earned a tail. But it couldn’t be that hard, right? She was smart. She could figure it out.

Character Facts:

Personality: Driven, brash, animated, curious, adventurous, energetic, impulsive, ambitious, bossy

Runs a morning radio show called Good Wicked Morning that broadcasts on one of the local radio stations. It's also streamed online and uploaded as a podcast daily. No shows on weekends unless it's a special event.

Her show is a mix of local news, brief overviews of global events, and entertainment, among other topics. The most popular recurring segment is “Florida man or Wicked’s Rest man?” It also gets uploaded as a podcast after it’s recorded.

On the side, Miyeon is trying to work on a podcast that’s more investigative journalism taking deep dives into the town and its mysteries.

Growing up, she often referred to her brothers, Dae-sung and Jae-hyun, as her uncles whenever they were in public. It made things a lot easier to explain.

Miyeon doesn’t know how she’s going to earn tails but she knows it has to do with good deeds or good morals – something like that. There’s gotta be someone who knows more in town and she’s going to find them and they will help her.

Her mother keeps her singular, measly hoshi no tama in an ornate box that has space for the eight others still to come. Miyeon hasn’t even convinced her to let her keep it in her own apartment.

#bio #taken #taken shifter #shifter #taken kitsune #kitsune #frontrunner #kim sejeong

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