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holy-puckslibrary · 3 months

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━ 𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — bull-rider!MATTHEW TKACHUK x barrel racer!hughes!reader (can be read as an unnamed oc) wc — 1.8k synopsis — wear the hat, ride the cowboy—even if it might get you disowned.

note — there's one line referring to the reader as jack's twin, but no physical description is given. also, this one-shot is a "party favor" from our feb slumber party

specific content warnings under the cut.

cw — quinn being a dramatic, misogynistic douche-canoe 3000 for the entirety (ratty matty has his moments, too), no actual smut but it's heavily implied they do the dirty on the reg, a disgustingly intimate situationship — ick, off-color comment(s) relating to first times and the concept of virginity, lots and lots of familial angst (jack is a snake), oh! and more than a few loose ends... but you know the drill by now, i'm incapable of keeping a story contained

“Go on, Palomino Princess. Ride me like one of your ponies.”

Condescension drips from the lazy taunt. Matthew earns a palm to the chest for it; her ire lands with a faint thud, but he doesn’t mind. He gets off on riling her up, and after two years of backseat meetings and hushed phone calls, he’s damn good at it too. That, and she might be the most reactive person he’s ever met—and that’s saying something.

Matthew’s been going head-to-head with all three of her brothers for over a decade, and he’s known their family for even longer. Having a short fuse must be genetic.

“Y’won’t break me if that’s the hold-up. S’gonna take a hell of a lot more than a dry humpin’ buckle bunny to put me outta commission, sweetheart.”

He knows damn well she ain’t anywhere close to the derogatory term, but he likes what the complete disregard for her accomplishments does to her deceptively cherubic face.

It may look less harrowing than every other event on the card, but barrel racing ain’t for the faint-hearted. The event is a death wish personified, and it feels about as good as someone taking a metal pipe to both shins. It takes balls—metaphorically, in her case—to charge into an arena on an American Quarter horse with the intention of guiding it through a cloverleaf pattern around three barrels while sprinting at top speed, but it takes dedication and skill to succeed the way she has. The winner is determined by just thousandths of a second.

The woman perched on his tailgate is unmatched—undefeated.

Flames of pride lap at his loins, the fire of desire stoked by the wicked roll of her hips.

“Ohh—shit!” Matthew hisses, his head lolling back as his hips buck into her heat.

She smirks, apparently vindictive as ever. “How’s that, cowboy? Everything you dreamed?”

“And more,” he growls as he grabs a fistful of her backside.

His grip is tighter than it needs to be as he switches positions. Not nearly as rough as she would prefer it; beggars can’t be choosers.

Matthew steps between her knees, and, despite herself, she shivers with anticipation. Chuckling, amusement twinkles in his baby blues. “Now give me a kiss, sweetheart. My lips are feelin’ a little lonely tonight, and you happen to be wearin’ my hat, Little Miss.”

He flicks the brim of his hat. She catches it before it hits the ground before plopping it back on the rightful owner, the damage already done.

“You just love that antiquated rule,” she shakes her head while most definitely laughing at his expense. “Y’wouldn’t see any action without it, now would you?”

Matthew grins. Trading insults is his favorite form of foreplay. “Neither would you. Isn’t that your signature move, outlaw?”

“I should kick you to the back of the line with that attitude. Hell, I’d probably be better off keeping you at a distance anyway.”

“Keep mouthin’ off and see how far it gets ya. Definitely nowhere near that McMansion castle you call home, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, don’t you worry ‘bout me, sugar. I’ve got plenty of options if I need a ride home.”

“I’ll bet, show pony. Sexiest can chaser east of the Mississippi; who wouldn’t be chomping at the bit to carry Cinderella home to her Daddy?”

Men have a habit of gawking at her; Matthew has a habit of relieving them of their teeth.

He leans in to taunt her ear with greedy lips and barbed arrogance. “Best of luck finding one that’ll fuck you better than me.”

“Do you think about other guys fucking me often?” she fires without missing a beat.

More than he would like, actually.

With a heavy, drawn-out sigh, he runs a hand over his face. His patience is running thin, and his jeans are starting to chafe. Exasperated, he tries coaxing her to reason, “Sweetheart, c’mon. We both know you want this—want me. Stop makin’ this so damn hard.”

“Why? Because you already are?”

Matthew makes an exaggerated show of play-biting her scrunched-up nose.

“Woman, you drive me insane.”

“It’s why you’re so obses—“

Her teasing is thwarted by the sound of her own name. Spat out of her older brother’s mouth like a heirloom gone sour, it's no great surprise Quinn looks at her like he can’t recognize her. Like a stranger—like a traitor.

Guilt, thin and fleeting, pieces the tenderness between her ribs.

She squirms, attempting to put some distance between them as if that could erase the discovery—and her culpability—from his mind. Matthew and his shit-eating grin keep her from getting too far but don’t be fooled. This is no chivalrous encouragement to stand her ground. It’s got nothing to do with her and everything to do with her brother.

Quinn rages outside the hauler housing Matthew’s precious 3500 Laramie. Walking by, seeing the main trailer hitched Brady’s F-350 made his stomach churn. It didn’t sit right, and now he knew why.

“You can’t be serious! Nuh-uh, no—no fucking way. Get out here before I drag you out myself.”

At his tone, what little remorse she felt dissipates. They were both far too old for his tired, overbearing song-and-dance.

“Who died and made you king?”

Quinn, blinded by overripe anger, sweeps over the irritation, twisting her tongue and the disbelief arching her brow. “I thought I made myself clear last time. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Oh, crystal, Quinny.” Matthew snorts at the juvenile nickname but is swiftly cajoled into silence with a pinch to the side. “Message received.”

“Then quit screwin’ around and get your ass back to the truck before Dad blows a gasket. He’s been lookin’ all over for you. So, you best be thanking your lucky stars I got here first. That its me catchin’ you red-handed colluding with the enemy.”

He’s so serious, nearly shaking with rage, it’s difficult not to laugh. She can count on one hand the instances wherein her brother became visibly angry—all of them involving the man standing between her dangling feet. She fares better than him, but that’s to be expected. Unlike her accomplice, for her, there’s real risk involved.

“Just ‘cause I heard you don’t mean I have to listen.”

Lips pressed to her temple, Matthew clicks his tongue in approval. ‘Bout damn time she started giving back what Quinn so readily dishes out.

“Look, y’can spread your legs for anyone with big dreams and a buckle some other night. Parade around the circuit acting like a slut, see if I give a shit. But not tonight. And not with him.”

The knowing glint in Quinn’s blackened eyes is telling, but it isn’t as menacing as he thinks it is. The Hughes heir apparent couldn’t be judge, jury, and executioner. He doesn’t have a lick of proof. Just suspicion and a personal vendetta the size of Texas.

A safety net swaying below, Matthew decides to have a little fun. “Whoa, settle down, Trust Fund. Y’can’t talk to a lady like that, ‘specially not your sister.”

He’s no white knight, but he can pretend.

And isn’t that what you’re all doing? Pretending to be people you aren’t. Acting out your roles, putting on a show. After all, a performance will always be more entertaining than the truth.

“—and here I thought etiquette classes were a Rodeo Royalty rite of passage. Glad t’know she ain’t the only roughneck hellion in your family tree, Huggy.”

Quinn’s jaw tightens. His tongue threatens to put a hole through his cheek. Hands on his hips, the eldest sibling only nods. He ignores Matthew entirely.

“Real winner y’got there. A class act. You really know how to pick ‘em—cream of the goddamn crop. Say, what’re you gonna do when he inevitably gets bored of you? When he gets his hands on a fresh doe-eyed virgin to tarnish?”

After she finishes with Matthew, she’s kicking Jack’s sorry ass.

Those anxieties—and that majorly personal tidbit of information—were shared in confidence. Because unlike her older brother, she trusted her twin. Well, she used to, at least. Luke’ll be over the moon at the chance to be her favorite.

She bares her teeth like a scorned lapdog. “We’re not kids anymore, Q. You can’t push me around whenever you want or tell me what to do like you’re my father. And you sure as shit can’t bully me into submission, either. Give it up, or get lost.”

“Whatever,” Quinn barks as he backs away from the trailer. “Your fuckin’ funeral.”

Listening to the fading sound of her brother’s Ariats pounding through the dirt, she buries her face in the warm, familiar crook of Matthew’s neck; she needs a moment alone. He seems to understand this, his mouth zipped shut as he runs calloused hands up and down her sides. She’s breathing heavily, but he does her the simple mercy of leaving it be.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was growing on you,” Matthew hums, a low-maintenance attempt to lighten the mood.

They don’t do the touchy-feely BS. It’s one of the things that reeled him in—and kept him coming back.

“But you do.” She pulls away to look up at him, chin resting on his sternum. He hates that her melancholic eyes are red-rimmed. “—and stop thinking, it doesn’t suit you.”

“And what does, princess? I’m dyin’ for your insight.”

“Shut the door and I’ll show you.”

He blinks, taken aback. Who is this brazen tart, and when did she take your place? Matthew wonders to himself. Maybe he is the bad influence everyone paints him as… He hasn’t really thought about it until now, and it's troubling the way it makes his chest tighten.

Matthew clears his throat—and, from his mind, the distressing notion that he’s ruined someone good with his carelessness—as he leans over.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He pulls the hauler’s heavy metal door shut with clamorous finality.

Matthew Tkachuk might be the most self-serving swindler on dirt, but Quinn Hughes is just another name on his list. A box to tick and then forget. He wouldn’t lose sleep, it wasn’t like their friendship meant a damn thing. Not anymore. A friend turned foe, reduced to another obstacle in his way, a hurdle to jump.

Tonight, his sister’s fealty; tomorrow, his title.

Retribution is at his fingertips, so close he can taste it. Yet, it would seem that Matthew merely traded one hornet’s nest for another.

At least this one’s easy on the eyes.

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rainobrienn · 1 year

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How do you feel? - Sam Winchester ;)

Pairings; Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: smutty smut smut, Public sex?, not proof read, p in v, oral (f receives), pet name? (Princess), hand kink?

Word count; 3k

Season 2 x Episode 6 setting

Summary ; you have been in love with Sam for awhile now, you try to avoid him but that just makes it harder.

"Your not working it, that's final!" Ellen shouted at her daughter, you standing next to Dean & Sam awkwardly waiting for them to noticed you guys had walked in.

Some random tourists walking in, "Howdy, are you guys open?" The dad asks, "No!" "Yes!" Jo and her mother both say in sink. They also stand there awkwardly for a moment before leaving.

"Now just put that away!" Ellen says, "no I want to know what they think about it," Jo says holding a folder, before Ellen's mother could do anything the phone started ringing, and Ellen scoffed going to the phone.

"Three weeks ago a young girls disappears from a Philadelphia apartment," Jo walks up to Dean shoving the folder at him.

"Take it, it won't bite," she says, "No but your mom might," Dean says not looking down to the folder, but she stays holding out the folder to him giving him a needy look for him to take it from her.

He rolls his eyes and takes the thing, opening it and up and looking through the pages.

"And this girl wasn't the first. Over the past eighty years six women have vanished. All from the same building, all young blondes. Only happens every decade or two so cops never eyeball the pattern. So we're either dealing with one very old serial killer, or-,"

"Who put this together, Ash?" You ask stepping forward to look at it, "I did," she says, Dean hums in an impressed tone, looking through the sources of information.

"I gotta admit, We hit the road for a lot less," Sam says also looking at it, You nod agreeing with him.

"Good. You like the case so much, you take it," Ellen says stepping forward, "Mom!" Jo says in an annoyed tone. "Joanna Beth, this family has lost enough. And I won't lose you too. I just won't," she says in a stern yet, concerned tone.

You left with the two boys, heading to the location of the apartment. You have been hunting with Sam and Dean ever since they ran into you when they went back to Lawrence, finding out that the demon they were hunting took your mother after your brother was born. And of course you wanted in on it.

You were always close with Sam & Dean, Although Sam is your age group, Dean and you connected more as friends, and he became one of your closest. Until he suddenly ghosted you, not wanting anyone but his dad in his life I guess. And, well the reason you and Sam split apart was because you kind to ghosted him, after finding out your feelings for him you were scared, way to scared to admit them to him for no reason, so you stopped talking to him completely, but now, that's in the past, not the feelings part, the ghosting part.

As you all walked into the apartment Sam said "I feel kind of bad, snaking Jo's case,"

"Yeah, maybe she put together a good file. But could you see her out here working one of these things? I don't think so," he says holding the EMF reading around the apartment.

"Yeah, It would be way to dangerous for her to work a case just yet," You also holding the EMF reader around the room.

"Anything?" You then ask the two boys, both of them shaking there heads and responding with a No. before Sam runs his over the light switch and it purrs.

You and Dean both turn your heads to look at him, walking over to see what was there. "What is that?" Sam asks, "What?" You and Dean question at the same time asking Sam what he's seeing, watching as he pokes at a black goo that was on the light switch.

"Holy crap!" Sam says, Dean moves you over to touch it himself, "That's ectoplasm. Well, Sam, I think I know what we're dealing with here. It's the Stay-Puff Marshmallow Man," you laugh a little at his humour, why did his stupid humour always get you?

Sam rolls his eyes, leaning back up straight, "Dean, I've only seen this stuff, like, twice. I mean, to make this stuff you have to be one majorly pissed off spirit," he says in a serious tone, almost worried.

"All right, let's find this badass before he snags any more girls," Dean say, you all exit the apartment, walking down the halls.

As you were about to turn a corner you hear voices, all three of you back up against a wall, knowing you could be seen but thinking you couldn't be.

You watch Deans expressions frown as he hears familiarity in the voice that was around the corner; and so did you. Jo?

"It's so convenient," she smiles next to what looked like a landlord, "Yeah, it's a great building, fixed it up real nice. All the apartments come furnished, too," he says advertising his building.

"It is so spacious. You know, my friend told me I absolutely have to come check it out, and I have to admit, she was right. You did a really good job with this place," she acts like the happiest person in the world.

Dean steps out from behind the small wall we were behind, "What the hell are you doing here?" He asks stepping close to the girl, but instead of a shocked reaction she smiled wider, "There you are, honey," she smiled, wrapping her arm around his waist. You and Sam exchanging weird looks.

"This is my boyfriend Dean, and his Brother Sam, and Sam's girlfriend Y/n," she smiled, you immediately feel a heat come to your cheeks, and your heart skip a beat at the words.

The landlord looks at the both of you, slightly furrowing his eyebrows. Before Sam grabbed you by the waist pulling you in closer to make you guys seem like a couple, playing it off as cool as you could you just smiled leaning into him, his scent intoxicated you, and you knew your face was bright red.

"Good to meetcha. Quite a gal you've got here," he then says to Dean, a smile on his face shaking Deans hand.

But all you could think about was Sam's hand on your waist, and how you wanted both of his hands all over you. Doing things you never thought you would do.

You watched as Dean talked to the landlord, but you really couldn't pay attention. Sam's hand kept moving up and down your waist, like he was trying to tease you or something.

You felt so vulnerable, and your emotions were so overpowering you right now. You tried to calm your breath down, you slowly brought yourself back to reality just in time, watching as Jo handing the Landlord a stack of cash saying that you guys would take it.

You felt Sam's hand leave your waist, and you already missed it. But you brushed your hand through your hair to try and get some sense into you before following the others into the apartment you were just in.

You sat on the chair as quiet as you could be, honestly to scared to talk. Your feelings for Sam have been dormant lately, mainly because you haven't touched him, or been to close with him for a month now, but that was so close, too close for your liking.

You stood up as they talked, heading to your bag to chug the bottle of water you had in there. Trying to distract yourself from the thoughts of Sam, and the things you wanted him to do to you, the places you want his hands to touch.

"This place was built in 1924. It was originally a warehouse, converted into apartments a few months ago," you heard Jo speak. You leaned on the wall looking over to all of them, not even glancing at Sam.

"Yeah? What was here before 1924," Dean asks, pacing from side to side of the room. "Nothing. Empty field," Jo says shaking her head.

"So, most likely scenario, someone died bloody in the building, and now he's back and raising hell," Sam says.

"I already checked. In the past eighty two years, zero violent deaths. Unless you count a janitor who slipped on a wet floor," she says fiddling with a knife.

"will you sit down?" No turns to Dean, he gives her a dirty look before sitting down. "So, have you checked police reports, county death records?" He asks.

"Obituaries, mortuary reports and seven other sources. I know what I'm doing," she says, offended of how stupid he thinks she is.

"I think the jury's still out on that one. Could you put the knife down?" Dean asks, she rolls her eyes but does as asked. You could feel some sort of tension between the two of them, you couldn't tell if it was sexual or not, but there was something.

"Okay! So, uh, it's something else, then. Maybe some kind of cursed object that brought a spirit with it," you then say stepping in, "Well, we've got to scan the whole building. Everywhere we can get to, right," Jo then says.

"Right. So. You and me, we'll take the top two floors. Summer and Sam on the two bottom," Dean states, for fuck sake, you think to yourself, "We'd move faster if we split up," she states, "this isn't negotiable."

You walk with Sam down to the first floor, EMF in hand scanning down the walls. Keeping your distance from the tall brunette boy, who you were constantly thinking about in these moments.

"What do you think it is?" He asks, waving his EMF around. "Honestly, have no idea," you shake your head, "Yeah, me neither," he says with a sigh.

"Hey, are you okay?" He asks a few seconds later, you turn to him with furrowed eyebrows, a confused expression on your face. "it's just, your never usually this quiet," he says, "oh," you say, that's all you said.

"Oh? Is there something wrong," he then asks stopping, you turn back to look at him. why does everything he do have to look so perfect you thought, "No," you say, god you were not being a good actress right now.

"You know I don't believe that for a second right," he says, you don't say anything to that, you just turn around and continue to scan, god get yourself together, he had his hand your waist for a minute and now all of sudden your back to your 15 year old self, obsessed and in love with the guy.

"You getting anything?" You then ask after a few seconds of silence, "Nope," he said with a sigh, "Should we go find Dean?" You asks, "Not before you tell me what's up," he said, you just look at him blankly with that comment.

"Seriously y/n," he says in such a soft, and sweet voice. You felt your heart begin to race as fast as it possibly could as he stepped closer, he was looking at you like you were going to break or something, and you couldn't handle it.

You weren't thinking, actually all you were doing was thinking, about Sam and his lips, his hands. You didn't even realise until it was to late that you were kissing him, you quickly pulled away shocked at yourself, anxiety washing over you immediately.

"Fuck," was what you said standing there like a complete idiot, "Wha-" he seemed so shocked, and speechless. You were waiting for a sympathetic rejection, but instead you got "why'd you do that?" And not in a grossed out tone, seemed like he was genuinely asking.

"I- I uhm," you said just staring at him, not knowing what to say. "Y/n?" He questioned, he seemed concerned, your feelings for him got stronger by the second, and suddenly you really couldn't hold them in any longer.

"God Sam, I've loved you since we were fifteen," you sighed, like the biggest boulder just rolled off your shoulder.

"And I can't get you out of my mind, especially when your so close, or when you touch me, god Sam, it's so annoying and," you sigh, "embarrassing," you then say realising what you had just admitted, knowing things would never ever go back to how they were.

"Embarrassing? How is it embarrassing?” He asks stepping towards you, you look up to him. He looked happy, “I- because you don’t feel the same,” you state.

“How do you know how I feel when you’ve never even asked?” He asks you, you think about it for a second and he was right.

“How do you feel then?” You asked, a little bit nervous to ask but proceeding with it anyway. He stepped closer so he was looking right down on you, “I’ll show you,” he says, his hand cupping your cheek, god his hands were so big, his lips fell onto yours, and you immediately kissed back with out a second thought.

You felt yourself being pushed up against the wall, one of Sam’s hand running under your thigh and lifting it up. Your cores rubbing against each other, made your head spin.

“Sam,” you pant out, as your eye caught the sight of a small room, he looked behind to see it as well, before turning and smiling at you, picking you up and carrying you into the room, it was a small storage closet, but neither of you cared one bit.

Sam slammed you up against the door to close it, kissing your lips with everything he had. His hands roamed around your body, touching you in all the places you need at the time, like he could read your mind.

You felt his fingers dig under your shirt, slowly lifting it up and over your head, then reaching around your back to unclasp your bra, which he did do after a few times, but the heat of the moment was just so aggressive.

His hands and lips were all you could think about, your own hands were running through his hair, as you legs were wrapped around his waist, his weight leaning on you enough to keep you up against the door.

“Sammy,” you called out in a hushed tone, “hmm?” He hummed as his lips kissed across your neck, leaving spots and marks wherever he could.

“I need you,” you managed to get out in a stutter, “hmm,” he hummed, “where?” He then added to that, “You know damn well where Sammy,” you then snapped, “hmm I’m gonna need words princess,” he said, princess? Oh god, you might as well just die.

“Down there Sammy, please, do anything,” you begged him, he smiled moving slightly back so your legs would fall from his waist, planting yourself back on the ground.

You watched as he fell to his knees, his hands running over your jeans, unbuttoning them, unzipping them, and then pushing them down your legs, your panties following along with them.

He didn’t waste another second before his lips connected with your core, you flung your head back, hitting it against the door, “oh fuck,” you said gripping his hair as he made out with your core, licking and sucking in all the right places.

His hands moved over your hips, your waist. “Fuck oh god,” you whined, feeling so much pleasure wash over you.

One of his hands slowly came down to touch your clit, circling it a few times before he ran it through your slit, sending a shiver through your entire body, your moans filled the small space up completely.

Seconds later his finger entered you, pushing in and out at a slowly pace. Before adding a second and speeding up, his mouth connected with your clit once again and you couldn’t have felt more pleasure in that moment.

“Yes, Yes,” you said as he hit your g-spot, “there?” He asked, hitting it again you moaned out a “fuck,”.

He sped up his face and you felt your climax build, and build. “I’m gonna cum,” you stated in a breath, and with that Sam pulled out his finger, and stood up.

You whimpered at his actions, “come here,” he said lifting you up, you didn’t even realise he had removed his pants, until his tip ran over your clit.

“Can I?” He asked teasing your entrance, “please Sammy,” you whined, and then felt him enter you.

You thought he had gotten all the way in at one point, but then he just had more to add. He was way bigger than you expected, and way thicker, for a moment you didn’t think you could handle it.

“You okay,” he asked, you sucked in a breath and nodded. You connected your lips back with his to distract yourself for a moment, “Ready?” He asked, waiting for a yes.

“Mhm,” you hummed a yes, feeling him start to move now. God, the mix of pain and pleasure filled you, mainly pleasure. And then it soon turned into only pleasure.

As his pace quickened your moans got louder, “Fuck Sam!” You screamed, and then felt his hand slap over your mouth, “shhh,” he said kissing up your neck.

“Sam,” you hummed out underneath his hand, as you did he removed his hand from your mouth, and faced you. “I’m gonna-,” you panted, and he nodded “me too,” he said getting ready to pull out.

“Don’t pull out,” you stuttered out as you felt him slam into you, “No?” He asked, “No, cum in me Sam, please,” you whined, and he really couldn’t refuse you, his hands gripped your waist even tighter.

Slamming into you even harder, and with one last thrust you felt yourself collapse. “Oh god,” you breathed out as you came on him, your head resting on his shoulder.

“Your so beautiful y/n,” you heard him say, you smiled at his words, slowly placing yourself back on the ground, it took you a second to snap back to reality.

You put your clothes back on, and so did Sam. But you didn’t leave just yet, “Sam,” you said as you placed your shirt back over you, he looked to you, “This wasn’t a hook up, was it?” You questioned, “No, this isn’t over,” he said walking up to you, kissing you passionately.

#fanfic #fem!reader #y/n #supernatural #sam winchester #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #supernatural smut #smut #sam winchester smut #x reader

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pastanest · 1 year

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A/N: I’m really sorry but read-more links aren’t working on my blog atm, I’ve raised a ticket with Tumblr and they’ve registered it as a bug that they’re looking into but for now I can’t use them because they mess up the whole post :(

Eleventh Doctor x gender!neutral reader

Dating Eleven Would Include

so to begin with, he’d be awkward and clumsy as per usual

over time he gets more accustomed to the blossoming feelings for you and relaxes into them, being more open to flirting back

PDA comes so naturally to him he consistently catches himself out when he becomes aware of the fact he’s holding your hand, swung an arm around you or pulled you in for a hug on instinct

the Doctor is always going out of his way to do sweet things for you

he remembers every place you’ve referenced wanting to visit, every favorite food you’ve mentioned, every dream date idea that he has pried out of you with the least subtle questions and motivations you can imagine

and he uses all of that information to his advantage, regularly planning said dates out for you in the most beautiful places in the universe

a regular picnic? nono, not on the Doctor’s watch. we’re talking planets entirely made of meadows, as far as the eye can see, inhabited by sentient orbs of light that exist in complete peace and harmony, floating around amongst the flowers and creating a field of stars every time the seven sun’s set

a date at the cinema? try the biggest cinema screen in the universe that you have to sit 50 feet away from, with special goggles just to protect your eyes from the power of the light from the screen.

“And it’s not just the screen that’s big, it’s the highest quality speakers ever invented, and they are completely invisible! 4D sound systems? Not here, 8D AND UP ONLY BABY! That does mean that if we see any movie with freak weather patterns, we may have to bring several changes of clothes to suit the climates they simulate around our seats. Which are levitating in total darkness. So we will also need a very powerful torch to find our seats. Which I have already invented, naturally. It plays tense music whenever it’s switched on.”

“That’s a lot to process, but I am stuck on the torch - why did you add tense music as a feature?”

“For dramatic effect, why else?!”

he��s fiercely protective of you

we all know the look in his eyes when the Daleks rock up, the fury that burns when he recalls anything regarding the Time War; that’s the same expression that greets anyone or anything that causes you harm in any way whatsoever

he’s almost scared to admit that he’d tear a planet apart to find you, save you, fix any harm that has been done to you, if that is what it cost

whether you are with him through his regeneration into 11 or not, you show him parts of his personality that have been hidden for hundreds and hundreds of years, feelings he never thought he would be lucky enough to find again

and it terrifies him, of course, to consider what he lost in those feelings before, how he could lose you in a new, more painful way

but you reassure him

with every hold of your hand, every bright smile, every hug, every laugh at one of his silly lines, every kiss, every whisper in the dark when he lies with you until you fall asleep in his arms, you comfort the Doctor that no matter what happens, you will find your way back to each other

you, the Doctor and River Song are absolutely in a three-way marriage

River flirts with you more than the Doctor and he’ll sulk about it

“Honestly, what’s the point in me being here?! Should I drop you two off on an isolated moon to engage in your…shenanigans?! Ooh, ‘shenanigans’, now that’s a good word, I should use it more often!”

you and River both know him so well and share your frustrations over his occasional idiocies the girl’s that get it, y’know?

picture this: the Doctor being so excited to see River but she just runs past him and straight to you because the two of you have orchestrated sleepovers in the TARDIS and routinely fail to let the Doctor know ahead of time iconic

the two of you never make it official, but it is understood on both sides that you are in a relationship and nothing will break that bond

and you are the happiest couple in this universe, and every other

#doctor who #the doctor x reader #eleven x reader #eleventh doctor #11th doctor #doctor who x reader #x reader #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon #headcannons

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layce2015 · 1 year

Text

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

No Exit

Masterlist

"Los Angeles, California." Dean said once we get out of the car and walk towards the Roadhouse. "What's in L.A.?" I asked him. "Young girl's been kidnapped by an evil cult." He said. "Yeah? Girl got a name?" Sam asked him. "Katie Holmes." Dean replies and Sam and I laugh. "That's funny. And for you, so bitchy." I said to him.

But from inside the roadhouse comes the sound of breaking glass and shouting voices. Dean turns to us. "Of course, on the other hand — catfight." Dean said and I rolled my eyes as we go inside of the building.

We enter cautiously to see Ellen and Jo shouting at each other. "I am your mother, I don't have to be reasonable!" Ellen shouts at her. "You can't keep me here!" Jo snapped back. "Oh, don't you bet on that, sweetie." Ellen growled.

"What are you going to do, are you going to chain me up in the basement?" Jo asked, angrily. "You know what, you've had worse ideas than that recently. Hey, you don't wanna stay, don't stay. Go back to school." Ellen said to her. "I didn't belong there! I was a freak with a knife collection." Jo said. "Yeah, and getting yourself killed on some dusty back road, that's where you belong?!" Ellen said then she turns to see us.

"Guys, bad time." She said. "Yes, ma'am." Sam and I said, in unison. "Yeah, we rarely drink before ten anyway." Dean said. "Wait. I wanna know what they think about this." Jo said just as a family of four come in the building. "I don't care what they think!" Ellen yells at Jo.

"Are you guys open?" The father of the family asked them. "No!" Jo shouts just as Ellen said. "Yes!" The family look around, nervously, before the father said. "We'll just... check out the Arby's down the road." He said and they leave. "Awkward." I muttered to the boys when the phone rings

Jo glares at it, then at Ellen, who stalks over to answer it. "Harvelle's. Yeah, Preacher." Ellen answers and Jo turns to us. "Three weeks ago a young girls disappears from a Philadelphia apartment." She said as she shoves a file folder at Dean. "Take it, it won't bite." She said. "No, but your mom might." Dean said to her.

She pinches her lips, still holding out the folder, then he takes it reluctantly. "And this girl wasn't the first. Over the past eighty years six women have vanished. All from the same building, all young blondes. Only happens every decade or two so cops never eyeball the pattern. So we're either dealing with one very old serial killer, or—" Jo started to say when I look over the file and look up at her.

"Who put this together? Ash?" I asked her. "I did it myself." She said, proudly, and I give her a smile. "Impressive." I said to her and she smiles as I hand the file to Sam, who looks at it too.

"I gotta admit. We hit the road for a lot less." Sam said and Ellen comes over to us. "Good. You like the case so much, you take it." She said to us. "Mom!" Jo yells. "Joanna Beth, this family has lost enough. And I won't lose you too. I just won't." Ellen said and Jo walks off while the boys and I exchange looks before we leave.

"I feel kind of bad, snaking Jo's case." Sam said once we enter the apartment building in Philadelphia. "Yeah, maybe she put together a good file. But could you see her out here working one of these things? I don't think so." Dean said as we pull out our EMF readers.

"You guys getting anything?" Dean asked us.

"Nope." I replied.

"No, not yet." Sam said then once he runs his reader over the light switch, it purrs. He leans over. "What's that?" He asked. "What?" Dean and I said and he starts to touch black goo on the wall.

"Holy crap." Sam whispers as Dean and I touch the goo as well. "That's ectoplasm." I said, astonished. "Well, guys, I think I know what we're dealing with here." Dean said and we look over at him. "It's the Stay-Puff Marshmallow Man." He said and I roll my eyes then I wipe the ectoplasm on his cheek. "Oh look, he slimed you." I said and gives me a playful glare.

"Dean, I've only seen this stuff, like, twice. I mean, to make this stuff you have to be one majorly pissed off spirit." Sam said. "All right, let's find this badass before he snags any more girls." Dean said and we exit the apartment and walk down the hallway; hearing voices. We go and hide around a corner.

"It's so convenient." A familiar female voice said and I frown and look at the boys. "Yeah, it's a great building, fixed it up real nice. All the apartments come furnished, too." A male voice said and they come around the corner and to see a man and Jo walking. "It is so spacious. You know, my friend told me I absolutely have to come check it out, and I have to admit, she was right. You did a really good job with this place." Jo said and we step away from our hiding space.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean asked her and she smiles and walks up to him. "There you are, honey." She said and she grabs Dean around the waist. "This is my boyfriend Dean and his buddy Sam and Sam's girlfriend, (y/n)." Jo said to the man. "Good to meetcha. Quite a gal you've got here." The man said to Dean. "Oh yeah, she's a pistol." Dean said as he smacks Jo's ass, and she gives a fake laugh.

"So, did you already check out that apartment? The one for rent." Jo said to Dean sweetly while Sam and I exchange a look. "Yeah. Yes. Loved it. Heh. Great flow." Dean said and the man looks at him. "How'd you get in?" He asked Dean. "It was open." Dean replied.

"Now, Ed, um, when did the last tenant move out?" Jo asked the man. "Oh, about a month ago. Cut and run, too. Stick me for the rent." Ed replied. "Well. Her loss, our gain! 'Cause if Dean-o loves it, it's good enough for me." Jo said as she hugs up to him and I had to bite my lips. "Oh, sweetie." Dean said as he smacks her again.

Jo chuckles and smiles then she pulls out a wad of cash. "We'll take it." She said as she hands the money to Ed.

"I'll flip you for the sofa." Jo said once we got inside of the apartment. "Does your mother even know you're here?" I asked her. "Told her I was going to Vegas." She replied. "You think she's gonna buy that?" Dean asked her. "I'm not an idiot. I got Ash to lay a credit card trail all the way to the casinos." Jo said.

"You know, you shouldn't lie to your mom. Shouldn't be here either." Dean said to her. "Well, I am. So untwist your boxers and deal with it." Jo spat at him. "Where'd you get all that money from, anyways?" Sam asked her. "Working, at the Roadhouse." She replied. "Hunters don't tip that well." I said. "Well, they aren't that good at poker, either." She said just as Dean's phone rings and he answers it.

"Yeah." He said then his eyes widen a bit. "Oh, hi Ellen." He said and Jo looks at him, warningly. Then he holds his phone back to Jo. "I'm telling her." He said and she runs up to him and they have a furious, muttered argument.

"I haven't seen her." Dean said once he brought his phone back to his mouth. "Yeah, I'm sure. Absolutely." He said then he hangs up the phone; Jo grins, cheerfully.

Dean is pacing, Jo was sitting at the table with blueprints spread out. She begins flipping a small knife around while Sam and I sit on a couple of chairs. "This place was built in 1924. It was originally a warehouse, converted into apartments a few months ago." Jo said. "Yeah? What was here before 1924." Dean said, questioning. "Nothing. Empty field." Jo said.

"So, most likely scenario, someone died bloody in the building, and now he's back and raising hell." I said to her. "I already checked. In the past eighty two years, zero violent deaths. Unless you count a janitor who slipped on a wet floor." Jo said then she turns to Dean. "Would you sit down, please?" She asked and he sits down.

"So, have you checked police reports, county death records..." he said and she nods. "Obituaries, mortuary reports and seven other sources. I know what I'm doing." Jo said. "I think the jury's still out on that one. Could you put the knife down?" Dean asked her and she sets it down.

"Okay! So, uh, it's something else, then. Maybe some kind of cursed object that brought a spirit with it." said Sam. "Well, we've got to scan the whole building. Everywhere we can get to, right?" Jo said. "Right. So. You and (y/n), we'll take the top two floors." Dean said to her and I glance over at him.

"We'd move faster if we split up." Jo said. "Oh, this isn't negotiable." Dean said, firmly, then he looks at me. "Can we talk? Alone?" He asked me and I nod. Both of us get up and we walk away from Sam and Jo. "I need you to keep an eye on her." Dean mutters to me. "Yeah, sure. You can count on me." I said. "Okay, just...be careful, okay?" He said to me. "Of course. And you boys be careful as well." I said to him.

After while, Jo and I were walking down a dim hallway with EMF readers, I was walking real close next to her. "So. You gonna buy me dinner?" Jo asked me. "What are you talking about?" I asked her, confused. "It's just if you're gonna ride me this close it's only decent you buy me dinner." Jo said, sarcastically.

"Oh, that's hilarious. I hate to disappoint but I don't swing that way. You know, it's bad enough Dean had to lie to your mom, but if you think I'm letting you out of my sight...I don't know if you've noticed, but you're kind of the spirit's type." I said to her. "Exactly." Jo said.

"You wanna be bait?" I asked her. "Quickest way to draw it out and you know it." Jo said and I rolled my eyes. "Oh." I muttered. "What?" Jo asked. "I'm so regretting this." I said. "What? You afraid I'm gonna take your spot?" She asked me and I stopped in my tracks and turn to her.

"No. I'm not afraid you taking my spot. I'm afraid for you to get hurt. You're an amateur. You have no experience. What you do have is a bunch of half-baked romantic notions that some barflies put in your head." I said to her. "Now you sound like my mother." She said to me.

"Oh, and that's a bad thing? Because let me tell you..." I said but I stop myself. "What?" She asked me. "Forget it." I said. "No, you started this." Jo said to me and I scoff. "Jo, you've got options. No one in their right mind chooses this life. My dad started me in this when I was so young...I wish I could do something else. And John started the boys when they were young as well." I said.

"You love the job." Jo said to me. "Yeah, but I'm a little twisted." I said to her. "You don't think I'm a little twisted too?" She asked me. "Jo, you've got a mother that worries about you. Who wants something more for you. Those are good things. You don't throw things like that away. Might be hard to find later." I said and we approach a grating near the floor.

Seconds later, Jo turns around, gasping. "What?" I asked as I turn to her. "I'm not sure." She said and I got a whiff of a weird scent . "You smell that?" I asked her and she starts sniffing the air.

"What is that, a gas leak?" She asked. "No. Something else. I know it. I just can't put my finger on it." I said and Jo crouches by the grating then her EMF reader purrs. "Mazel Tov. You just found your first spirit." I said to her. "It's inside the vent." She asked as I crouch beside her, shining my flashlight. Then I hand it to her. "Here." I said and I pull out a screwdriver and unscrew the grating, pulling it off the wall.

"There's something in there. Here." I said and I reach my arm inside, feeling around. I felt something soft and I grabbed it then pulled my hand out, revealing I was holding a clump of blond hair. Jo makes a noise of disgust as we look at the hair. "Somebody's keeping souvenirs." I remarked.

The next morning, Sam and I woke up and decided to go get everyone coffee. Dean was still passed out on the sofa while Jo was sitting at the table looking through notes and blueprints. I smiled, softly, at Dean sleeping before I follow Sam out of the room

But we didn't get very far as we saw cop cars outside of the apartment buildings. We hid in the corner to hear Ed talking to some cops saying that another girl had gone missing. Sam and I exchange a look then we head back to the apartment and burst through the door.

Jo and Dean, who was now awake, look to at us in shock. "Where's the coffee?" Dean asked us. "There are cops outside. Another girl disappeared." Sam explained.

Later, Dean and I went to investigate the room and learn more about the missing girl while Sma and Jo stayed at the apartment to study the notes. Dean and I came back and he shuts the door behind us.

"Teresa Ellis, Apartment 2F. Boyfriend reported her missing around dawn." Dean said to the others. "And her apartment?" Jo asked us. "Cracks all over the plaster, walls, ceiling. There was ectoplasm, too." I said to her.

"Well, between that and that tuft of hair I'd say this sucker's coming from the walls." Sam said, shrugging. "But who is it? Building's history is totally clean." Dean said, annoyed, as Jo picks up a photograph. "Well, maybe we're looking in the wrong place." She said.

"What do you mean?" I asked her, confused. "Check this out." Jo said as she hands the photo to Sam. "An empty field?" He asked as he hands the photo to us. "It's where this building was built. Take a look at the one next door. The windows." Jo said and I look at it and noticed there was bars on the windows on the building.

"Bars." I said as Dean looks at the picture. "We're next door to a prison?" He asked, shocked.

"Thanks, Ash. And if you breathe a word of this to my mom... That's right. I will. With pliers." Jo said into her phone sometime later. Then she hangs up and turns to us. "Okay. Moyamensing prison. Built in 1835, torn down in 1963. And get this. They used to execute people by hanging them in the empty field next door." Jo said to us.

"Well, then, we need a list. All the people executed there." I said and she nods. "Ash is already on it." She said.

Minutes later, Sam was scrolling down a very long list of names on his laptop. "A hundred fifty seven names?" He said, shocked. "We've gotta narrow that down." Dean said. "Yeah." Sam mutters. "Or else we're gonna be digging up a hell of a lot of stiffs." I said and Sam scrolls down until I noticed a name that seemed familiar.

"Wait, Sam. Click on that name." I said and he clicks on the name. "Herman Webster Mudgett?" Sam said, confused. "Yeah?" Jo asked as I look at the boys. "Wasn't that H. H. Holmes' real name?" I asked him and both give me shocked look. "You've gotta be kiddin' me." Dean mutters and we started to research Holmes.

"Yep. Holmes was executed at Moyamensing, May 7, 1896." Dean said and I let out a chuckle. "H. H. Holmes himself. Come on, I mean, what are the odds?" I asked them. "I know, right?" Sam said.

"Who is this guy?" Jo asked. The term multi-murderer. They coined it to describe Holmes. He was America's first serial killer, before anybody knew what a serial killer was." Dean explains. "Yeah, he confessed to twenty seven murders, but some put the death toll at over a hundred." Sam said. "And his victim flavor of choice? Pretty petite blondes. He, uh, he used chloroform to kill 'em." I said as I nod towards Jo then I stopped as I realized something.

"Which is what I smelled in the hallway last night. At his place, cops found human remains, bone fragments, and long locks of bloody blonde hair." I said then Dean turns to Jo. "Boy, you sure know how to pick 'em." He said to her.

"Well, we just find the bones, salt 'em and burn 'em, right?" Jo asked. "Well, it's not that easy. His body is buried in town, but it's encased in a couple tons of concrete." Sam said. "What? Why?" Jo asked. "The story goes that he didn't want anybody mutilating his corpse. 'Cause, you know, that's what he used to do." Dean said and i start to pace and think.

"You know somethin'. We might have an even bigger problem than that." I said. "How does this get bigger?" Jo asked me. "Holmes built an apartment building in Chicago. He called it the Murder Castle. The whole place was a death factory, they had, uh, trap doors, acid vats, quick line pits... he built these secret chambers inside the walls. He'd lock his victims in, keep them alive for days. Some he'd suffocate, others he'd let starve to death." I explained.

"So Teresa could still be alive. She could be inside these walls." Jo said. "We need sledgehammers, crowbars. We've got to smash these walls, anywhere thick enough to hide a girl." Dean said and we nod.

Jo and Dean went to one end of the building while Sam and I went to the other end. Sam called Jo and told her we hadn't found anything but we kept looking around.

Sometime later, we walked down a hallway when Dean runs headlong into us. "Whoa." Sam and I said as Dean had a look of anger and annoyance and fear on his face.

"He's got Jo." He said, making Sam and I look at him, confused. "What?" Sam said. "How'd that happen?" I asked him. "I wasn't with her; I left her alone. Dammit!" Dean shouts as he turns his back and I walk over to him.

"Hey, hey, look, we'll find her, all right?" I said to him, firmly. "Where?" Dean asked. "Inside the walls." Sam said. "We've been inside the walls all night. None of the other girls were there, she won't be either." Dean said and we start to head back to the apartment room.

"Look. We've just gotta take a beat and think about this. Maybe we got Holmes' M.O. wrong." Sam said to Dean that night after we try to find Jo. "Yeah, well, we'd better friggin' think fast." Dean growls then his phone rings and he answers it.

"Yeah." He answered. "Ellen." He said and Sam and I look up at him in shock and I felt a large lump in my throat. "She's gonna have to call you back, she's taking care of, uh, feminine business." Dean said into the phone then he stays quiet for a moment before he sighs. "Look, we'll get her back." He said.

"The spirit we're hunting, it took her." Dean said and Sam and I exchange a look. "She'll be okay, I promise." Dean said. "What?" He asked after a few moments of silence. "It won't. I won't let it. Ellen, I'm sorry, I really am." He said then he hangs up the phone.

"Damnit!" He shouts as he turns to us. "Don't beat yourself up, Dean. There's nothing you could have done." I said to him. "Tell me you guys have got something." Dean said and I look over at Sam. Uh, maybe. Look. You look at the layout of the Holmes murder castle, there's all the torture chambers inside the walls, right?" He said as Dean and I go around him and look at the computer.

"Right." Dean and I said. "But there's one we haven't considered yet. The one in this basement." Sam said and my eyes widen. "This building doesn't have a basement." I said. "You're right, it doesn't. But I just noticed this. Beneath the foundation, it looks like part of an old sewer system that hasn't been used for---" Sam explains when Dean stands up and starts to leave. "Let's go." He said as he grabs his jacket and books; Sam and I follow.

The next morning, Dean, Sam and I were walking the streets of Philadelphia. Sam had a metal detector while Dean and I had a shovel each. We follow the trail into an open field until Sam stops over one spot, the metal detector whining. "Here." He said and Dean drops his bag and he and I start digging furiously.

After some shovel work, we dig with our hands to uncover a metal trap door, which we pull open. Dean hands Sam and me a shotgun and takes one, and a flashlight, then starts descending. Sam and I follow him. Once in the sewers, we began to make our way through and crawl along on our elbows and knees through the tunnels.

Eventually, we heard noises and come up to this opening and see a figure standing there. "Hey!" Dean shouts and the figure turns around, revealing it to be H. H. Holmes. Dean and I fire our gunz into Holmes' chest, sending him flying backwards and out of sight.

"Jo?!" I shout. "I'm here!" She shouts back and Dean finds an iron bar leaning against a wall and starts to pry it open. Sam and I investigate the other compartments; one contains gruesome body parts but the other contained a person, which had to be Teresa.

"We're gonna get you out of here, all right?" Sam said to her. "Guys!" Dean shouts and he hands us a bar. "Hang on." Dean said and he goes to open the compartment to let Jo out while Sam and I get Teresa out.

"You all right?" Dean asked Jo. "Been better. Let's get the hell out of here before he comes back." Jo said. "Actually, I don't think you're leaving here just yet." I said to her.

"What?" Jo asked me. "Remember when I said you being bait was a bad plan? Now it's kind of the only one we got." I said to her and I turn to the boys, Sam shrugs while Dean nods at me.

Jo was sitting alone, silently, in the middle of the chamber. She has her arms wrapped around her knees and is trembling, but breathing deeply and steadily. Holmes appears behind her and walks forward. "Now!" Dean shouts as Holmes gets closer.

Jo dives forwards as Sam, Dean and I fire at the bags on the walls; several bags unroll and spill salt in a perfect circle around Holmes, trapping him. I pull Jo to safety as Holmes circles, gibbering and screaming in terror.

"Scream all you want, you dick, but there's no way you're stepping over that salt!" Jo shouts and we shut the grate, sealing off the room.

Later, Jo, Sam and I were standing at the entrance to the sewers, looking down and waiting for Dean. "So? This job as glamorous as you thought it would be?" Sam asked her. "Well, except for all the pee-your-pants terror, yeah. Sure. But that Teresa girl's gonna live a life because of us. It's worth it, isn't it?" She asked us.

"Yeah. Yeah it is." I said as Sam nods. "Hey, what if somebody finds that sewer down there, or a storm washes the salt away?" She asked us. "Both very fine points. Which is why we're waiting here." Sam said.

"For what?" She asked then we hear a loud beep of a large truck backing up. Sam and I smile and look over our shoulder to see a cement mixer backing into the field, stopping just over the sewer entrance. "For that." I said as Sam goes and waves for Dean to stop the truck. "Whoa!" He shouts.

Then Dean gets out of the cab then he and Sam set up the cement mixer right over the entrance. "You ripped off a cement truck?" Jo asked Dean. "I'll give it back." Dean said and we watch the cement pour on down. "Well, that oughta keep him down there till hell freezes over." I said and Dean nods.

That night, Sam, Jo and I were stuffed in the backseat of the Impala whioe Dean was driving and Ellen was in the passenger seat. And she hadn't really spoke since she found us.

"Boy, you, you really weren't kidding about flying out, were you?" Dean said as he tries to make conversation but she gives no reaction to him. Sam, Jo and I exchange a look.

"How about we listen to some music?" Dean asked and he flicks the radio on but Ellen reaches forward and flicks the radio off. Sam, Jo and I exchange another look, while Dean glances back as if asking for assistance. I shrug at him and he sighs. "This is gonna be a long drive." He mutters.

We got to the Roadhouse by the time sun rising, and Ellen storms in, dragging Jo by the elbow. The boys and I follow them inside. "Ellen? This is my fault. Okay? I lied to you and I'm sorry. But Jo did good out there, I think her dad would be proud." Dean said to her and Ellen turns to him, sharply. "Don't you dare say that. Not you. I need a moment with my daughter. Alone." She said and we head outside

We lean on the Impala, the three of us don't talk at all as we felt bad for doing this Ellen. Minutes later, Jo comes storming out of the bar then she glares at me and Dean. Confused, we follow her as she keeps walking away.

"That bad, huh?" Dean asked her. "Not right now." She grumbles. "What happened?" I asked her as we walk up to her. Then I grab her shoulder. "Hey, talk to us." I said and she turns to me, sharply, and shoves my hand off of her.

"Get off me!" She yells and I hold my hand up as Dean comes up next to me. "Hey, hey!" Dean said and she glares at us. "Sorry. See you around." Dean said and he takes my arm and we turn to leave.

"Dean. (Y/n). It turns out my dad had a partner on his last hunt, two actually. Funny, he usually worked alone; these guys mostly worked either together or on their own too, but...I guess my father figured he could trust them. Mistake. The guys screwed up, got my dad killed." Jo said.

"What does this have to do with—" Dean started to ask but Jo shouts over him. "It was your father, Dean." She said then she turns to me. "And your dad too, (Y/n)." She said and I felt shock once she said that. "What?" We said.

"Why do you think John and (father's name) never came back? Never told you guys about us? Because they couldn't look my mom in the eye after that, that's why." Jo screams.

"Jo." Dean said and I shake my head. "Jo, we're not like our dads." I said to her and she scoffs. "Just...just get out of here. Please, just leave." She said and she walks off as Dean and I exhange worried looks.

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mspoisoncoil · 4 months

Text

Brain rotting about another thing, like, regarding my previous post.

I'm gonna go ahead and make it an x reader thing. Like, what if, the reader met buggy earlier. She is an orphan, she meets Buggy, they click, she see's Buggy as an Uncle and he see's Y/n as his niece.

Y/n actually has convinced him to be more of a good pirate, on the original town that Buggy was supposed to destroy in the anime, Y/n convinces Buggy not to do that and just rule over the island.

Buggy says it's not flashy enough until Y/n says that if he rules over the island and govern it properly, she'll dress up similarly to him and perform in his circus shows. And it is something Buggy wants so bad. So he does, and Y/n dresses up in a bodysuit clown outfit, it was colored like Buggy's, blue and white with hints of yellow and red. Y/n wore a corset, the bodysuit's color being blue. The corset being red with one side having white stars and the other white stripes. Having a white frilled turtleneck collar, the the edge that laid on her chest shaped like a semicircle coming up to her shoulders, small pompoms attached to her frilled collar as a replacement for buttons, colors switching between red and yellow. Bishop sleeves having white frills at the ends. Her legs being covered by white lace tights, her foot wear being heeled ankle boots, the colors on her left foot being being red with yellow stars, the right foot being colored blue with white polkadots while her hands were covered by white gloves.

Make up being done by Buggy himself, it was like Buggy's make up. Y/n wore a clown nose, being hit on the head by Buggy for the little stunt yet at the same time being praised for looking like "the flashiest man to ever be flashy". Y/n wore a blue wig, Buggy tying it into the same pigtail hairstyle he has, soon after helping Y/n put in yellow eye contacts.

When Y/n performed, the crowd went wild with every trick their whole circus performed. The final act being Y/n doing acrobatics and pulling stunts on the audience. The island was actually being taken good care of by Buggy and his crew, with Y/n helping once in a while with work.

Now, Buggy will still have yanderes on his a$$(Crocodile, Shanks and Mihawk) but does Y/n have them? Yes, she in fact does. Her yandere's being the rest of the anime cast. Yeah I know this is sort of boring, but the thing is, Buggy and Y/n doesn't really take it all that seriously. They're clowns okay??

But how would Buggy meet his yandere's and how does Y/n meet hers? Well, three years before Luffy set sail and he met Buggy, the clown duo would sometimes take off on the sea with some of their crew, the two clowns have visited Alabasta, adventuring in Alubarna and into the warlords famous casino. Y/n had coaxed Buggy to changing into normal clothes as to not gather too much attention, Buggy giving in when Y/n promised to perform in the next circus event on their little island.

Scenario:

Buggy sat on one of the stools, leaning on the counter of the bar. A rather relaxed expression painting over his facial features as he waited for his favorite and only niece, brows arched as he waited rather impatiently until a certain blue-wig wearing teen came hopping to him, wearing a white blouse with a pastel green strap square top dress, the skirt having a white checkered design. The girl's wig styled into low pigtails with her yellow contacts still in her eyes. Bouncing up on the stool next to Buggy with a smile as someone followed behind her, a chaperone that volunteered to look after Y/n, coming from the island they governed. Y/n stared at Buggy's outfit, proud of her work. The man wore a similar white blouse with a Navy blue vest over it, silver floral patterns intricately weaved onto it. The top paired with black pants, Buggy's hair was tied up into a ponytail, done by Y/n. The man wore a replica of Y/n's necklace.

Buggy scolded Y/n slightly for being slow, turning to her chaperone with a displeased frown, said chaperone averted his eyes while sweat-dropping, feeling a little down at their current rulers disappointment. Y/n quickly stood up from her seat, taking her Uncle's hand before dragging him somewhere around the casino. Her chaperone hastily trying to catch up with the duo.

The three were making a little noise, not enough to get the attention of the entire place, but enough to catch the attention of anyone within a ten feet distance. Y/n laughed as she continued dragging Buggy, the man grumbling but not fighting back while his niece's chaperone slightly yelled at them to slow down.

Y/n ran past a towering man and a tall woman, hand in hand with her uncle as she squealed when she tripped, bringing the big nosed man down with her. Buggy instantly shouting at his niece the moment they sat up, Y/n's chaperone helping them stand up and awkwardly standing beside Buggy with his hands tucked behind his back.

The trio was not ticked or bothered by the stares they gained, Milo, Y/n's chaperone was used to it. A certain warlord planted his eyes on the scene, eyes stilling on the vest wearing man with blue locks. The woman beside him was focused on the teen who only giggled at Buggy's scolding.

(Let's pretend that this is before Buggy earned his debt with Crocodile)

Okay so that's out of the way, how would Buggy meet Mihawk?? Well that's easy.

Another scenario:

It was rare but he did it, Mihawk had left the grand line, choosing to wander around East Blue. He had stopped on an Island, eyes roaming around as he noticed posters were stuck on the walls of a few buildings. Featuring the words "Circus Day!". The ever stoic man listened closely to the conversation of a group near him, taking note that they talked about a "King" and if the "princess" would perform today.

Curiosity piqued and feeling bored, the man decided to pay a visit(very unlikely, I know). Finding himself staring at the blue haired man that announced the start of the event, judging the outfit of the guy and the way he looked like a clown, unconsciously running his eyes all over the clowns facial features, devouring anything his outfit revealed to the world like a starved man. Catching himself humming shortly at the sound of Buggy's voice. He found the performance boring but nonetheless stayed, hoping that the clown from earlier would show up again, only to be disappointed when he didn't.

He was pleasantly surprised when at the final performance of the night, the man he was patiently waiting for came back out, yelling out that the final thing would be done by his one and only niece. Mihawk frowned when Buggy went out of his sight, his hands twitching as he held back the urge to stand up and follow the man. His eyes soon landing an a woman with the same blue hair that Buggy had.

Mihawk went back to the grand line with a newfound memory, the first and most valuable to him being the blue haired clown that announced the event and the second being said clowns niece who looked like the man he wanted to see the most in that event. Mihawk made a mental note to go back on the island after awhile. Now having a yearning to see the silly and unreasonable clown that caught his attention and planted an unidentified feeling in him.

Okay so that's that, and do I even have to explain how Buggy met Shanks??? But like, imagine that in the future, when Buggy and Y/n are getting chased by their perspective Yandere's, they stay on this island. At this time, Y/n had eaten a devil fruit, the DF being called the Fake Fake fruit where Y/n can make illusions that will feel real and actually is real until Y/n reverses or undo's her trick.

So while they're getting chased, Y/n Yandere's doesn't actually know that Y/n is Buggy's niece or that her blue "hair" and yellow "eyes" were real. It had been about a month after they narrowly escaped Buggy's captors. With the help of Y/n ofcourse, so on the island they stayed on, they made a plan.

Y/n never wore her beloved wig while they were loose and still running from their captors. She was a natural actor and played as a patient and quiet woman that couldn't lie. The complete opposite of how the real Y/n was, and being the icon that he was, Buggy was also an expert at acting. Y/n used her devil fruit to change her Uncle's appearance.

Changing his long, beautiful blue locks into short and clean dark brown hair. Changing his eye color to black and changing his nose to a regular one, no matter how weird it felt. Buggy acted like a complete gentleman on their stay on the island they had stopped on, keeping calm and composed whenever trouble brewed. Again, a complete opposite to how really is.

Let's hope that when a certain yonko and two former shichibukai visit, they're cover doesn't get blown up.

Yeah that's all, I'm calling this the "Clown!Y/n" Au just incase Authors wanna write a fic about it👀👀

(PLEASE DO😭😭😭💀💀💀)

#Shanks x Buggy

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youmightfindyourself · 1 year

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About five years ago, for seven dollars, I bought an old citrus juicer at a thrift shop. It was one of those vintage small appliances which seem built to survive gas explosions and hammer attacks. When I turned on the motor with a metal toggle switch, a drive shaft spun a heavy ceramic knob that gouged out the hearts of lemon and orange halves, leaving not a scrap of pulp uncrushed. The thing worked beautifully, almost like new, so I looked up its serial number on the internet to see when the unit was manufactured, guessing it might be almost 40 years old.

Wrong. It dated to the 1940s. It was 70, the stubborn monster, still giving satisfaction with every use.

I can’t say the same about my coffee grinders. I use the plural because I’ve owned a lot of them, all bought in their original packaging and dead within a year. They’re good ones, supposedly, with burrs not blades, but they stop performing before long, ending their long journeys from overseas factories in unmarked graves in my local Montana landfill.

I have a whole ghost kitchen in this landfill, and soon I will need to reserve a bigger plot. For the nifty under-the-counter fridge that has stopped getting cold after three years and no one in the area can fix. For the cool, bagless vacuum cleaner that clogs and chokes when I run it over a rug. For the set of glass measuring cups whose numbers and hash marks are swiftly fading and becoming illegible, much like those on the dials of the washer my wife bought just three years ago. For the remains of the Pyrex casserole that shattered when I removed it from the oven, strewing the floor with blade-like shards, some so tiny I probably won’t find them for another couple of months, and only when they lodge in my bare feet.

Should I go on? I think I will. It’s important to get to the essayistic part, where I ask what it means when the objects in our lives demoralize us in a blizzard of malfunctions that seem to be hastening by the month. But it’s also important—to me, emotionally—to bury the reader in details of the unceasing material disappointments I’ve faced. Disappointments of the sort we will all be facing en masse in a few days. Merry Christmas!

Like the cute yellow mittens my wife picked up at Target which unraveled the second time she wore them. Or the new suitcase which won’t stand upright when it’s full. The laptop computers that have turned to bricks within months of their warranties expiring. And the hybrid sedan with 50,000 miles on it that also turned into a brick while going eighty down the freeway, losing its power steering, its power brakes, its power everything. I survived, by some miracle, issued legal threats, and the car’s manufacturer repaired it, free. Then it bricked again a few weeks later.

It’s the little things too, of course, because they’re constant. The staples that won’t pierce five stacked sheets of paper. The matches that sizzle and smoke but won’t catch fire. The grocery bags split by the corners of the milk cartons whose inadequate seals leak drops. The strangely short power cords on electronics. The two or three new pens I use each week that, because no ink comes out of them (at least not continuously, in lines) aren’t really pens at all, in fact, but tributes to pens. Potemkin pens, mere props.

Baffled by how to measure this decline in the quality of common wares—a decline whose significance I promise to cover once I’ve further gratified my rage—I opened the matter to my Twitter audience and quickly garnered more than 2,000 replies, by far the longest thread I’ve ever triggered. The complaints were specific and formed patterns. One was a loathing for newer washers and dryers because they don’t wash or dry well, and then they break. The clothes that go inside them were disliked, too. (A former top executive of Levi’s chimed in to confirm that jeans aren’t what they used to be.)

My favorite replies were the picky ones. One person noted that the “juice content” of juice is going down. Another observed that the “foaming liquid hand soap” which suddenly is dominating store shelves is really just normal liquid soap, diluted.

Many blamed these problems on the government. They believed it had crippled certain products (major home appliances, especially) with environmental regulations, causing them to function poorly and turn rapidly to landfill fodder—an ecological net loss, perhaps. Some folks blamed our trade agreements with China and the evils of capitalism itself. Weak-link computer chips in items that don’t require them also came in for abuse. One highly philosophical reply spoke of a sinister general trend toward the degradation of everything human. “There’s a war on value that’s going that’s comprised of three parts: war on quality, war on money, war on life.” Lofty rhetoric, but I understood. When my suddenly de-electrified hybrid car became a hurtling giant stone inside which my wife and I were helplessly strapped—all for the crime of trying to save fuel and, ultimately, earth—it was hard not to feel tricked.

Only a couple of my correspondents challenged my premise—and the flood of testimony—that stuff is getting crappier, and acutely so. They made an economic argument. They claimed things are worse because we want them cheaper, but if price is adjusted for inflation, they’re of the same quality as always. These rant-killing sophisticates annoyed me. Our new washing machine with the faded dials and the vanishing enamel on its corners (I forgot to mention that defect) is the costliest model we’ve ever purchased. As for the much of the cheap stuff—those Target mittens, say—they aren’t merely inexpensive, they’re valueless. In fact, they’re of negative value when one considers the waste of materials involved, and the wasted energy of driving to buy them, then driving to return them later—a second trip that, in this case and many others, wasn’t worth making. Instead, we took the loss. And the world took the loss. A small one, but they add up.

In England in the 19th century there arose certain thinkers—John Ruskin, William Morris—who believed that the quality of material objects reflects and affects the quality of society, even of the spirit. “Have nothing in your home,” wrote Morris, the father of the Arts and Crafts movement, which aimed to elevate the lives of the working and middle classes, “that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.” This would be a tall order nowadays.

Recently, my wife needed a carrot peeler. She needed one rather quickly. Off to Target. The one she bought (the only one on sale) looked handsome enough, and the brand was one she recognized, but it failed in the useful department, miserably. It wasn’t sharp enough to peel a carrot. Like my pens which aren’t pens because pens put ink on paper, her peeler which didn’t peel was a nullity, a simulacrum, a representation of something, not the thing.

The world is going digital, we’re told, and someday there will even be digital real estate inhabited by people in digital clothes drinking digital orange juice extracted with digital juicers. People will play at the lives they once took seriously, lives that had once had heft and weight, and the juice content of juice will fall to zero. I suspect my old physical squeezer will still be working then, but the rest of my kitchen gear won’t. Not much of it. I might not last, either. I fear I won’t. The psychic toll of goods that don’t endure is that one loses faith the future will even come, and then one loses interest in it coming, for little that we own or use or cherish seems likely to be there with us to meet it.

One wonders whose obsolescence is being planned—our products’, our belongings’, or our own?

#wall of text #jawnz #human condition

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kingproteus · 11 months

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What’s PMDD then?

Informational post by a post-hysto trans guy :) (btw terfs fuck off and burn in hell)

For me, PMDD was a circular pattern of my mood randomly going to shit, and pulling my life in after it. I’d then, for reasons unclear to me pre-diagnosis, have a few days (normally three or four) where I felt really good. I hadn’t noticed this circle followed my cycle for most of my early to late teens, because why would it? I’d never been told about PMDD, and all the uterus-havers in my family had the same issues I did.

I went through doctors, was cleared for bpd, borderline, asd, adhd, ibs, high blood pressure, and finally was settled into the “depression” and “anxiety without social anxiety” camps. Yay.

Of course, when I put the pieces together at 16 or so, it became clear to me that PMDD was the reason for this. The monthly times at which my life got shittier and shittier were placed before my period started, and evened out when I got my period, and went away a few days before my period ended. Then I had a few days of feeling good, a few days of feeling just okay, and then it was back to hell.

The first doctor I went to about my PMDD diagnosis immediately diagnosed me. She said it was obvious I had it. It was crazy, I had expected a fight over it.

This, of course, made getting on antidepressants a stupid hard task. I’d go on something and think it was working, but jokes on me that was just my PMDD letting up. Or I’d switch meds in a panic only to realize my extreme depression was my PMDD fucking me over.

In the end, I just got a laparoscopic hysterectomy with ovarian removal. I’m about two weeks post-op now, and I feel better than normal. I’m back to jogging and doing all my normal stuff. 10/10 surgery.

So… why the fuck does PMDD do this?

I’m obviously not an expert, just a sufferer, but the basic reason is my body freaks out when my hormones fluctuate. My body couldn’t figure out that my sex organs were doing a natural cyclical job, one they did every month. So my body went on high alert. People can have a mix of physical and emotional symptoms. Extreme depression, difficulty concentrating and remembering stuff, anxiety, insane back pain, some people even have worse vision.

When I got on T at 15, my symptoms were lessened by 50%. It HALVED my symptoms. It was a godsend. Seriously, I can’t stress what a good decision it was for me.

As it’s only been a few weeks for me, I can’t speak to how hysterectomy has effected me. I’ll definitely write some follow up posts about it all once I’ve gathered my thoughts.

The reason I post all this is because I’ve spent my whole fucking life, well, since I was 9 and got my first period, feeling like the only fucking trans guy with PMDD in the whole world. This shit was confusing, all the experts didn’t know what to do with me and my T levels, and I wasn’t welcome or comfortable in any PMDD-specific space.

It felt like shit, and I was lonely, and I literally only realized I had it 3 years ago.

Being a trans guy can already be an insanely lonely experience, but being a trans guy with a VERY uterus-specific problem even more so. But I’m done being embarrassed about it, or assuming people will use it to discredit my identity.

I’m just posting this because I want my account of it SOMEWHERE. Just to say that being a trans dude with PMDD is survivable, and normal, and fine. I’ve a good life and a great boyfriend and a kickass family. If my nine year old self could see me now he’d be amazed.

But yeah, shit gets better and PMDD can go fuck itself right beside my ovaries in the medical waste dumpster at the hospital.

#PMDD #Trans #trans pmdd #living with pmdd #fuck pmdd #pmdd awareness #mlm #transmasc #disability

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chryzuree · 8 months

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I’M IN SUCH A CHRYZUREJACKS MOOD RN… anything you have to share abt them at this time 🤲🤲🤲

GOD, I FEEL SO FERAL ABT THEM RN…. you always know precisely my mood (is always explicitly posting abt them…)

but like…. chryzurejacks is jst like chrysi has someone made for her by the universe itself and if she also had someone who she made for herself and they worshipped her. then it’s worship from knowing everything about her to worship from knowing nothing about her. then, on top of that, it’s like ohhhh, azure’s her soul. jacks is her heart. she’s their breath. fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! lives interwoven in the stars by pure stubbornness because who else can understand each other but them!!! and their cringefail pathetic wet lap dogcat of a soulmate………

umm also also also, i’ve mentioned this, but azure is also immune to jacks’s kiss <3 makes me think of that one friends episode where one of the characters is like “WHERE IS MY NEW YEAR’S KISS!!!! I WANT TO BE KISSED!!!!!!” and then one of the other guys kisses him.. jacks wants to be kissed (by chrysi), but he’s being so fucking annoying that azure kisses him for her. jacks stands there in a daze like “?!!!???????!!!!!!” and then, later, he’s mad because azure’s a better kisser than him.

i like imagining them all curled up in the same bed together, jst basking in the morning sunlight coming in from the blinds :)) literally i have nothing else to add, jst azure pressed to chrysi’s side and jacks resting his head on her chest and chrysi stroking jacks’s head while leaning into azure…. it’s something i think abt to calm myself down!!

jackszure hangout sessions whenever chrysi’s off doing something!!! it’s always azure working on a paper or writing something else while jacks jst kinda sighs sadly like a bereft dog, then looks at azure from the corner of his eye. azure hears him do that, like, seven times before he sighs and puts down his work. do you want to play checkers? yeah, checkers?? yes, do you want to set up the board?? good boy!!! (jacks is like. not appreciating that you’re talking to me like a dog, but also, YEAH, i WOULD like to play checkers 🥺)

whenever they’re at a masquerade ball, azure and jacks always keep trying to get the most dances w chrysi. near the beginning of their relationship, anyway!! then it turns into them switching off who chrysi’s dancing w every other song. romance… ((also, jacks specifically designs matching outfits for all three of them 🥰🥰🥰))

GOD, like two days ago, i was thinking abt chrysijacks arguing while azure endured it—up until he snaps, and goes, “JACKS. stop pissing off my wife!!! CHRYSI, stop yelling at your husband!!!!” both of them immediately shut up. anyway, chrysi was winning. jsyk.

jackszure companionship is also sosososo important to me??? like jacks nor azure strike me as the type of ppl to hug, but ((and specifically i’m thinking of the kh au, though this happens in a couple others)) when azure comes back from being cursed and/or possessed, jacks kinda cautiously lingers around him until azure sighs and gives him a quick hug. nobody saw anything. but also jacks is glad azure’s okay, and azure’s glad that jacks didn’t blow anything up while he was gone. now, if you’ll excuse him. he needs to go kiss their wife.

LOVEEEEE the aus where they’ve all been married for years, but since jacks is a fate and chrysi’s a half-star and azure’s undead, they all will wander sometimes?? and then when they’re reunited, they fall back into their patterns. don’t let jacks cook, don’t let azure make tea, don’t let chrysi rearrange the kitchen every week…. THIS ALSO IN A SITUATION WHERE JACKS IS A PLANT ON AN OPPOSING SIDE AND THEY GET CAUGHT AND HE BREAKS COVER TO HELP THEM??????)))) AUGHHHHHHH.

oh oh oh, in the l&c universe, after azure gets possessed, it’s soooo important to notice that while chrysi is how azure drags himself to reality, he’s able to actively try and get help via communicating with jacks… he sent that invitation to the gala to jacks on purpose! he knew jacks would get chrysi and they’d both try to help him! he knows! he knows that both of them would save him!!!!!

#jacks truly is jst the family pet that chrysi and azure kiss sometimes…#.asks #s.chryzurejacks #m.kat🫶🏻#also i rlly needed this today tbh… i was feeling vvvvv sad but now i’m feeling a bit better 🥹#thank you!

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havethetouch · 7 months

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Life Update

Dere! I am still around guess what :) I just took a bit of a longer break again from the web and stuff because honestly stuff got a bit much and there was so much other stuff that needed my attention and time. Not looking forward to clear my inboxes across all my accounts again but eh, it is what it is. Prolly gonna filter out the important stuff and reply to what I need to and just delete the rest for a clean start.

But hey, all that stuff that kept me busy and mostly offline was the good stuff. I had my mother over at my place almost every weekend for a month now to help me out with some of that stuff and it really imporved so much about my situation and my livin space and a lot of other stuff across the board like literally anytime my mother came over I would be weeping at the end of the day in joy and relief. So yah, lotsa improvements going on that would've taken me a lot longer by myself. Love my mom.

There was a bit of an issue with the water supply, it got tainted and I got a little sick from that but thankfully I am young and my immune system is a beast so I was a lot less affected from that than other members in the community. Still sucked though. For a couple of days I was hauling water rations around to the elderly folks in my neighbourhood who were unable to get it on their own. It was a whole thing. It also lead me into the house of my vis a vis neighbour who sometimes talks down from her balcony with me and used to talk a lot to my grandmother and my father as well when they were still around. Let me tell you this woman is a master crocheter - everything in her flat is basically crochet. Wall decorations, seat covers, couch throws, pillows, there was a computer chair decked out in crochet sleeves... lotsa nicknacks hell, every flower in all the vases I could see were crocheted. I was surprised to find items that were not decked out or complety made oud of thread tbh. That visit was like.. a revelation bc ages ago, maybe two or three years ago, there was this image going around of a rainbow hue shift blanket with a pattern included to crochet that yourself. And i was like... man, wish I could remember how to crochet I would love to do this. Which also lead to me two or so weeks ago walking up to my aunt and asking her if she by chance has knitting needles and wool and if she could teach me knitting. Long story short I can knit now I have a huge bulky scarf in the works and because I wanted some fexibility on what I work on I started a second project last Monday (I can either hyperfixate start to finish or I need at least two wips in any given craft so I can switch back an forth) and now I have a triangle shawl that I just finished this morning. Very lovely. I also bought a shitton of wool which raised some eyebrows with my aunt and both my mom because they assumed I would not somehow get really really into it? Well. Jokes on them. I am already planning arm and legwarmers, maybe a sweater. Lotsa shawls. It is very realxing for me and my hands really could do with a new craft that forces me to not grip stuff too hard and get into more fluid and flowy movements while creating. I am also really fast at this stuff apparently according my fam so like... yay knitting :) Which is also a reason why my absence from the web got extended. New hyperfixation on new hobby unlocket it is getting colder outside and I get urges to make myself warm comfy shit. I also have some sensory issues with some fabrics so being able to make my own shit is hella nice especially since I found the softest whatever bulky thread that feels like those soft cheaps synthetic fluffy blankets and I love that shit and that is the material of the scarf I am working on and that is also what imma make the arms and legwarmers out of and yeah idk if you can tell how excited this stuff makes me because it does and I am already thinking about if and where to get a huge loom from maybe next year because I did weaving once as teenager and mhhhhhh I kinda wanna do something. (The knitting stuff also basically started with I want a thing imma make it myself how I want it.)

So.. yeah. Ah and in between I was also in Venice in September I can't remember if I mentioned that but I had a short trip up there and it was a blast and very inspiring. All in all life's been going up n up and as the seasons shift again I feel at ease and peaceful with everything going on. I also finally got my old landlord to fork over the security deposit so that's another loose end tied neatly and I do not have to go to his workplace to have a talk after all :) I still have a couple of things to do before winter hits because this will be my first winter out here (remember I moved in around March this year so it was still cold but it was more the tailend of winter in my area so yah that will be interesting. But I got my self made teas, I bought all I need to operate my fireplace and heat the house already in Summer and oh. I am finally financially stable again. Like fully stable. And bruh that is... a huge weight off my back (and also the reason why I was able to buy lotsa wool lets be real.) But yeah.. yeah only good stuff around on my end. All is well. And I feel great.

#touch speaks #long post #journal entry

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kerlonguru · 2 years

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Wordpress 5.9 tutorial

#WORDPRESS 5.9 TUTORIAL FREE#

The word Editor refers to the Site Editor. With the block theme enabled, WordPress adds a new Editor menu point under Appearance in the admin. What happens when I enable a block theme? Among these, I have three favorites: Wei by Rich Tabor, Aino by Elma Studio, and Bricksy by Anariel Design.

#WORDPRESS 5.9 TUTORIAL FREE#

A screenshot of the Twenty Twenty-Two theme.īut there are a lot of other free themes to choose from on. So which block theme to choose? The most popular one is Twenty Twenty-Two, the default theme that shipped with WordPress 5.9. If you’re confused about this, I made a video that explains the different WordPress theme types: Classic theme, hybrid theme, and block theme. There are other types of themes that have partial support for Full-Site Editing features. WordPress only enables Full-Site Editing on sites that use a block theme. Why you need a block themeĪ block theme is a theme that is fully compatible with Full-Site Editing. Or at least use a staging server provided by your web host. I recommend that you set up a copy of your website on your computer. You’ve probably heard this before, but it’s always good to repeat the warning: please don’t use your live site to test things out. This means that you no longer need to have the Gutenberg plugin installed.īut while this feature is now part of WordPress, it’s not enabled by default.This article will tell you everything you need to know to try Full-Site Editing. Translators have made WordPress available in 205 languages, and 71 locales were more than 90 percent translated at the time of the release.Full-Site Editing shipped with WordPress 5.9 in January 2022. WordPress 5.9 was made possible by the efforts of 624 contributors, who worked on 371 Trac tickets and submitted 1,919 PR’s on GitHub. Updated Gallery Block: give all images the same style or style each one differently, change the layout with drag-and-dropĭevelopers also have some new tools in 5.9 – a new API for locking blocks, register multiple stylesheets per block, and theme.json support for child themes.Improved block controls: new typography tools, flexible layout controls, and finer control of design details like spacing and borders.Revamped list view: drag and drop list items, expand and collapse sections, add HTML anchors to blocks.Add new patterns and edit them to suit your site with just a few clicks. Pattern Explorer: browse patterns with a near full-screen view.Other notable updates in the 5.9 release include the following: The menu is saved in the database as a custom post type and can be used across templates and even after switching themes. Users can select from a responsive menu that always displays or one that adapts to the viewport. WordPress 5.9 introduces block-based site navigation. Twenty Twenty-Two was built to showcase full-site editing features, so the layout of every page can be completely customized, making it a truly multipurpose theme. It comes with a collection of pre-designed color palettes and a beautiful array of patterns for all kinds of creative combinations. Twenty Twenty-Two is bundled in WordPress 5.9 as the first ever block-based default theme. Twenty Twenty-Two: A New Default Theme for Building Beautiful Block-based Websites Styles lets users customize their sites with different colors, typography, and layouts, as well as give blocks a more unifying appearance. Appearance > Editor (beta) > Siteįor block themes, the new Site Editor and Styles interface has replaced the Customizer. It allows users to manipulate templates (home, single post, etc) and template parts (headers, footers, etc) with a visual interface. A new era in WordPress theme editing has dawned with the debut of the new template editor. She frequently made her way back the US in the 1950’s to advocate for the Civil Rights Movement, participating in demonstrations and boycotting segregated venues.įor many years, non-technical WordPress users were told to stay away from the Theme Editor menu and were warned that changes made there could make their sites inoperable. This release is named for American-born jazz singer Joséphine Baker, who found success on broadway before moving to Europe and becoming very popular in France. After a short delay, WordPress 5.9 “Josephine” has finally arrived with the long-awaited full-site editing features that give users more control over site design and page templates.

#Wordpress 5.9 tutorial

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honeycuttfulton17 · 2 years

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Replica Designer Belts,replica Ferragamo Belt,replica Versace Sneakers

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fumpkins · 2 years

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Does bird autofocus Bird AF work?

This article was originally featured on Popular Photography.

We like to say it’s not about the gear, that a photographer with any camera can create good photos. And in most situations that’s true.

Then there’s bird photography.

To get the highest quality photos of feathered subjects you need special equipment: zoom lenses with a lot of reach, plus (ideally) image stabilization to compensate for the exaggerated movement caused by being zoomed so far in. You also need a camera body with a focusing system that can lock onto such dynamic aerial targets.

Those systems are reinforced with AI technologies. Some high-end cameras now even feature Bird AF (autofocus) modes that identify and track birds, some with priority for focusing on avian eyes. Examples include the Nikon Z9, Sony a1, Fujifilm X-H2S, and OM System OM-1 bodies. Other models, like the Sony a9, include Animal AF modes that look for animals and birds of all types.

These use the same detection principles as Face and Eye AF modes, but with the added complexity that birds and animals move faster than your Uncle George. An eagle yanking fish out of a creek for dinner isn’t going to stop and pose, or come closer to the camera if you ask it nicely (then again, George might not either). But with the right equipment and AI assistance, you can capture that moment with tack-sharp focus.

How it works

A number of elements go into making Bird AF and Animal AF work well. On top of the core autofocus systems, the camera needs to understand what it’s looking at. The camera manufacturers’ developers feed thousands of photos containing birds and animals (and cars, planes, and other objects on some systems) to the autofocus software, and train it to recognize similar visual patterns.

The software also requires fast hardware to process what the camera sees in real-time. The image sensor absorbs a frame of the incoming light information, passes it off to an image processor that determines if anything in the frame matches the objects it understands, and then directs the lens mechanisms to adjust the focus. All of that happens in milliseconds. Then the sensor sends a new frame’s worth of data and the process is repeated so you get real-time tracking and focus lock for when you decide to press the shutter button.

Bird AF in the wild

The technology is impressive, but how well does it work in the field? I reached out to two photographers I know to get their perspectives. Hudson Henry shoots all sorts of subjects but recently returned from a workshop in Costa Rica where he hauled a Nikon Z9 and an AF-S NIKKOR 800mm f/5.6E FL ED VR into the jungle to capture birds, monkeys, and other elusive inhabitants. Marie Read is the author of the book Mastering Bird Photography (Rocky Nook).

When I asked Henry about his experience on his trip, he replied by email, “I can tell you [Bird AF] worked just shockingly well, with the Z9 picking up just about every bird’s eye I had reasonably sized in the frame.”

Occasionally, the feature was spoofed by areas that were similar to bird eyes. “There were lizards with big spots on the sides of their faces that fooled it,” he says, “and butterflies that had eye-like markings that wanted to lock as eyes, necessitating single point selection at times. But all-in-all it was just shockingly good on a wide array of birds and wildlife.”

In addition to a standard subject tracking mode, the flagship Nikon Z9 also includes a bird tracking mode. Nikon

Read’s experience is with a Sony a9, which offers Animal AF, not specifically Bird AF. But she says the shift to the technology has been substantial.

She writes, “It’s hard for me to tease out the effects of the ‘animal eye’ function from the general increase in the proportion of sharp shots that I experienced after I made the switch to the mirrorless Sony a9 from Canon DSLRs three years ago. I get many more in-focus keepers in a burst of images than I ever could have achieved before the switch. Sony’s tracking AF is astonishing!”

She also points out the significance of Bird AF and Animal AF features for anyone looking to get into bird photography, writing, “Scroll through any online nature photography forum and it will be obvious that there’s been a huge increase in great bird shots, including some amazing action images, in recent years. The downside is now, the bar has been raised so high.” The best way to stand out from the crowd? Become much more creative with compositions and lighting.

Getting the shot

Henry and Read both offer their strategies for using AF tracking, including bird and animal detect features, to capture their targets.

To get the shot, Henry takes full advantage of the Nikon Z9’s customizability, setting up the camera to seamlessly switch between a variety of AF modes. He writes, “I use a hybrid AF method for birds and wildlife that I teach on my YouTube channel. ‘Wide’ or ‘Small’ area AF on the shutter release (kind of like group in the DSLR days) for fast erratic subjects like birds in flight, with a conversion to ‘3D-tracking’ (Nikon’s name for subject tracking) on the back button to follow a subject you pick up all over the frame. I program a front function button that converts the shutter AF to single point AF-C for those subjects where the eye detection is missing and you need to direct the point. But I leave the 3D-tracking on the back button. A press of the Function 3 button flips the shutter button AF between’ Wide Area’ and ‘Single Point’ that way.”

As with so much of photography, a varied approach is required depending on the circumstances. Read shares, “As a Sony a9 shooter, for me the important things are selecting the optimal AF area size and whether or not to use tracking. Because my subjects are usually moving, in general, I use ‘Tracking: Flexible Spot Medium.’ I usually start out with the AF area positioned in the center of the screen but then I move it around as necessary for composition. For birds in flight where the flight pattern is extremely fast and erratic (think small terns or swallows), ‘Tracking: Zone’ can work well, but [it works] best if against a clean background. One more thing to fine-tune AF is via ‘Tracking Sensitivity.’ Sony offers settings from 1 (Locked On) to 5 (Responsive). I have mine set to 2.”

Sometimes the tracking isn’t necessarily better than good old-fashioned manual spot-focusing. Read writes, “It’s not the best idea to shoot a bird against a busy background, especially if it is small in the frame, but in that case try an even smaller AF area (i.e. Sony’s ‘Tracking: Flexible Spot Small’). Shooting through vegetation, which can give a lovely vignetted effect if done properly, is another place where you’d want to use the smallest AF area. You might need to turn the tracking function off to avoid the camera focusing back and forth.”

Good bill hunting

Good bird photography still requires more equipment than your average camera body and kit lens. And of course, you need to put yourself in the position to photograph birds in their habitats. But with Bird AF and Animal AF technologies in the latest camera models, you’re far more likely to end up with more sharp keepers than in the past.

New post published on: https://livescience.tech/2022/07/18/does-bird-autofocus-bird-af-work/

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hastingshwang6 · 2 years

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classshears6 · 2 years

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theramseyloft · 3 years

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Cognitive and social information to make selecting, bonding with, and training your pigeon easier:

There are lots of things I can go into more detail on, but here are the hows and whys of pigeon cognition and sociology that form the basis of our research into communication and Therapy work, laid out as a guide to building your relationship with your bird, starting with generalities universal to the species, and ending with an in depth look at the mechanics behind the typical behaviors and temperaments of cocks vs hens and what to expect.

Though they are extremely social outside nest space, Pigeons, whether cock or hen, are life-or-death viciously territorial of their specific nest space.

For reference:

A free flying bird with no cage considers nest space to consist of the actual nest and about their own body length around it.

Because they are crevice nesters, a pigeon with an enclosure considers the entire enclosure to be nest space.

Only a pigeon's mate is allowed to enter their nest, and that's exclusively by invitation.

Peeps are hatched into it, and once they wean, they are not allowed to re-enter.

Anything entering their nest space that is not that bird's mate is instinctively considered to be either a predator, or a rival.

A rival won't eat them, but is coming explicitly to attack them to drive them out of a good nest, which will involve killing their nestlings if they have any.

So, to avoid triggering the predator/rival defensive response, it's important to open your bird's enclosure to invite them to come out on their own terms when you want to spend social time with them.

This rewards their natural curiosity and makes you feel more like a cohabitant/potential flock mate than a potential predator or attacker.

While your bird is out exploring, you can strengthen your bond with them by treat priming; Address them by name, ask "Want a treat?" and toss a safflower seed in front of them, but not straight at them. Praise them when they eat it with something along the lines of "Yes, that is for you! Good bird!" in a pleased tone of voice. (even birds who hate handling and refuse treats respond positively to a pleased tone of voice.)

Calling their name every time primes them to look at you when you address them.

Little by little, as they get comfortable with the distance, you should be able to toss treats less and less far from yourself.

The end goal is for your bird to come into willing physical contact with you.

From there, you can start offering a treat on the tip of one or two fingers.

Once the bird is reliably accepting that, offer the treat held by the narrow end between your thumb and index finger.

This makes your hand more similarly shaped to the head of a bird than the scary giant talon with extra toes or giant snake it usually looks like to a bird.

In every flock of pigeons, there are at least one or two teen or older birds that will feed any weaned baby that cries.

I call these "Flock Aunties/Unkles", and this is the mantle you take up for your bird once they get they hang of hand feeding.

It's best to start having out times in the evenings, so that bed time is after dark. Lights Out training makes returning them to the enclosure less stressful for both you and your bird.

When you want to put the bird away, address them to get their attention, and say "Lights Out or Bed Time soon!", wait about 10 seconds, Then walk over to the light switch, make a note of where your bird is, repeat "Lights Out/Bed Time now", and flick off the lights.

Pigeons are diurnal and non-migratory. They can't see in the dark, and just sort of turn off.

This differs from the learned helplessness shut down in being instinctively associated with sleep, rather than inescapable distress.

In the dark, you can pick up your bird and gently return them to the enclosure without the stress of having to chase and catch them.

After a few repetitions, birds that don't enjoy being carried to bed will use the ten or so seconds between "soon" and "now" to fly back to their enclosure on their own. Birds that do like being carried will assume the position and wait for you to turn off the light and carry them.

There is no getting around the fact that feeding, watering, and cleaning require you to reach into your pigeon's enclosure, and if you can't do that while they are out (for example, if you feed in the morning before leaving for work) you can help them overcome their defensive response by talking them through what you are doing without reaching for the bird themself.

"It's food time. I need your dish." while reaching in only as far as needed to remove the dish, and withdrawing with it as quickly and unobtrusively as possible. Same for the water dish, and talking them through cleaning.

For example, the floor of my hospital cages slide out, so I tell the birds "I need your floor." and then repeat "Back up, back up, back up" in a soft, encouraging tone until they are off, then praising with "Thank you!" to signify they have done what I asked and I will not bother them now until time to put the floor back in.

When the floor is cleaned and repapered, I tell them "Here's your floor back." and repeat "Step up." as I slide it in until they have both feet on the floor.

When I have finished cleaning, watering, and feeding (All three get done at once for the hospital cages) I signify to the bird that it's over by "Ok! We're done now!" and then praising "Good bird! Thank you."

It's important to talk them through EVERYTHING because they are literally five-year-old-child intelligent.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2009/02/090212141143.htm

Pigeons and baboons have similarly high cognition.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2017/12/171204144805.htm

Pigeons have an innate understanding of the concepts of space and time.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2014/04/140402095107.htm

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2007/02/070220131646.htm

They categorize like we do.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2013/07/130717095336.htm

Their brains are wired similarly to ours.

https://www.degruyter.com/document/doi/10.1515/s13295-014-0057-5/html

So much so that they are considered an excellent model in the study of cognitive neuroscience

https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0197458019304270

https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0166432814007554

https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0166432820306471

With TONS of alzheimer-specific research

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2011/04/110411171847.htm

Their facial recognition is similar to ours.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2011/07/110703132527.htm

They recognize humans as individuals.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2012/06/120622163056.htm

By both face, and voice.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2008/06/080613145535.htm

They surpass the ability of human children up to three years old to recognize that their reflection in a mirror is their own reflection, and not another bird.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2015/02/150204184447.htm

They can learn the equivalent of words by the same mechanic as human children.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2016/09/160919111535.htm

They can learn to differentiate a written word from an acronym with the same number of letters.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2017/04/170418094512.htm

And flocks build what can legitimately be called a culture by building knowledge across generations.

The take away from this is that pigeons are intelligent enough to learn what your communication means, and can be taught by the same mechanic as a human toddler.

Language is a pattern of matching words to objects, actions, individuals, places, and concepts. Pigeons are pattern mappers, hard wired to latch onto stable patterns.

It is vitally important that you talk a pigeon that you are training through absolutely everything, the way you would a toddler who hasn't quite gotten that word down yet.

They can eventually learn to answer yes and no questions, if you give them a template. (this is already going to be enough of a novella, I can go into detail about that later.

A pigeon flock is basically one gigantic extended family living together in their equivalent of an ancestral apartment complex.

Pigeons only join a flock by hatching or marrying into it.

Pigeons are one of extremely few species that remain year round in the same breeding colony AND cooperatively forage; not just all going the same place, but actively voting on what to look for, how to best get there, and how to best get back.

Babies only rarely leave the flock.

When they leave the nest, they are taught by their fathers to be pigeons for the first month or so. Where safe food and water are, how to find nest materials, how to defer to a higher ranking flock member.

The rest of the flock line up to each teach the peep that they are higher ranking than the peep. (Peeps instinctively expect this hazing and are very skittish from five to eight weeks of age)

At about eight weeks, the peep is as big as it will get, and starts to earn their place in the hierarchy by experimentally pushing back against the older birds to see who gives and who won't.

By four or five months, the young bird has a solid place in the hierarchy, has found out what it's good at, and has usually won a mate.

At this point, a cock earns the right to claim a nest space among his parents, grand kin, aunts, unkles, cousins, and so-on.

Young pigeons only leave their flock to form a new one if there aren't enough nest spaces or isn't enough food to support every one.

So stability and finding a place in the social dynamic are EXTREMELY important to them.

Pigeon Flocks are democratic meritocracies.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2010/04/100416214045.htm

They vote on everything they do as a group

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2006/11/061106145043.htm

Parties with differing opinions compromise.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2015/06/150609213053.htm

Because they need to be able to depend on the support of their flock mates to cooperatively find resources, watch out for predators, and navigate home.

https://www.audubon.org/news/in-homing-pigeon-flocks-bad-bosses-quickly-get-demoted

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2016/09/160914143044.htm

Pigeons will not follow a leader they can't depend on, be that due to a loss of capability, or an unwillingness to heed cast votes or attempt to compromise.

This adds up to a bird that is hard wired to expect a say in everything they are involved in and be keenly, my-life-depends-on-this aware when their say is being ignored.

Pigeons do not have a concept of “Reasons I could not discern”.

If they can’t discern a reason you ignored their vote or any attempt to compromise with them, they just think there wasn’t one, and you're either incompetent or being an ass hole.

And Pigeons consider themselves to be well within their rights to refuse to cooperate with an incompetent ass hole.

This is a BIG part of why talking them through everything is so vitally important.

Pigeons are EXTREMELY communicative.

Once they trust you as a flock mate, The more they understand about what you are doing, what you want them to do, and how that affects them, the more willing they are to cooperate with you.

Those are the cognitive universals.

When selecting a companion or therapy animal, it’s important to know what temperament to expect, and the typical temperaments of Cocks and Hens differ pretty drastically!

We touched briefly on mate behaviors earlier, and now we need to go into that to explain sex-typical behaviors, by which I mean the instinctive behavioral and base line personality differences between typical cocks and hens.

To explain sex-typical behaviors, I have to walk you through the pigeon courtship ritual called Driving, which has three phases.

It starts with the Chase phase.

The cock struts up to a hen he'd interested in and alternately chest-bumps and bites her until she runs away.

He continues to strut after her, occasionally charging with a sweeping tail to push or bite her until she bursts into flight.

Hens will initiate for a cock they are EXTREMELY interested in, but in pigeon society, the hen having to initiate means the cock just is not remotely interested in her.

This is less than ideal for the hen, and she will divorce him for the first cock that shows enough interest to initiate the chase.

Once they are in the air, the hen is trying to break away and flee, and the cock is trying to herd her towards the nest area he's picked out.

Ideally, she crashes into it, too exhausted to keep flying.

To a human, this looks really violently aggressive.

But the Rock Dove, from which our domestic pigeons descend, evolved in a Thompson's Gazelle vs. Cheetah style arms race with the Peregrine goddamn Falcon.

If the cock cannot out pace and out maneuver the hen, and his stamina is lower than hers, then her children by him will be slower and less maneuverable than she is, with lower stamina.

This all adds up, to her, as her peeps by this cock being easier than she is for a falcon to catch.

If she can get away from him, he is an inferior potential sire, and she will reject him.

The Wrestling phase begins after the hen has recovered her breath.

As soon as she can, she will try to blow past the cock and vanish into the sky.

He has to body block her to prevent her from leaving, grab her by the scruff if she tries to push past, and fight her until she stops trying to get up.

Again, this looks REALLY violently abusive to a human!

But nest location is a status symbol in pigeon society.

A good nest is high up, wide enough for two adult birds side by side, with an entrance ideally narrow enough for only one at a time to get in.

This also makes it really hard for a hawk, rodent, or snake to get in after the eggs, peeps, or parent defending them.

Other cocks will want a good, safe, defensible nest for their wife, and absolutely will kill nestlings to drive out a less fit pair, hoping to impress a (usually specific and very picky) potential mate.

If the cock cannot fight the generally smaller, weaker hen who just recovered from the Chase phase to prevent her getting out, he hasn't got a snowball's chance in hell of defending her from a healthy rival who wants that nest for his wife and peeps.

It's only after he's completed the Chase and Wrestling phases that she allows him to prove that he's an excellent forager by offering to feed her from his crop. (the kissing behavior that immediately precedes the act of treading.)

This translates VERY poorly to a human partner, and is what makes bottle raised baby boys such a monumental pain in the ass.

Pigeons are INTENSELY social.

The drive to bond is stronger than the drive to actually reproduce, so your bonded pigeon will treat you like a mate.

Which means that a cock will be compelled to attempt the initiation, chase, and wrestling phases of Driving.

Imprinting does not just make a specific person a baby bird's mommy.

It tells the bird what species it is and sets Mommy as the ideal mate.

A pigeon that thinks they are human expects their human to understand these instinctive pigeon behaviors.

Their human's failure to respond as expected comes across as ignoring them.

Which leads to human-imprinted pigeons going from trying to court their caretaker, to feeling intentionally ignored for no reason and attacking out of furious frustration.

This is why I don't hand raise nestlings unless the peep will die if I don't step in.

Pigeons who are parent-raised, but socialized by humans the way you would nursing puppies or kittens, understand that a human is not a pigeon.

Instead of expecting their caretaker to understand them by default and getting overwhelmed with frustration when they can't, a parent-raised, human-social pigeon tries to work out how to bridge the communication gap.

If your human-social cock approaches you and tries to start a fight out of the blue, he doesn't hate you.

He loves you, and is pulling out all stops to prove to a freaking KAIJU, via hand to hand combat, that he's strong enough to protect them and their nest.

I tell people that "Cock love is pinchy."

This is what I'm talking about.

Physical contact is a mate/baby-exclusive privilege for cocks. Only his mate allopreens him, and he only allopreens his mate and their peeps.

Flock mates other than his mate only attempt to make physical contact with a cock to start a fight or ask for sex.

So all associations for a cock, aside from mate and peeps, are rivalries and side-chicks.

Pigeon bites can't break the skin (all they can do is pinch), unless it's just a massive monster of a pigeon, but the tenacity sexually selected for by hens makes cocks relentless until they are satisfied that they have suitably impressed you.

Hens, in contrast, are approached by flock mates to proposition for sex, to engage in allopreening, or to invite to feed, bathe, or loaf together.

They are generally more cuddly, more forgiving of restraint (Joke's on you, she's into that shit!), and more accepting of other family members making contact with her.

Cocks who are satisfied with their relationship can be a lot of fun, but their nippiness can be an anxiety trigger if you don't know to expect it.

In order to consider himself bonded to his person, a cock has to feel he has impressed you, like he would be expected to impress a hen.

It is much easier to convince a parent raised cock that you really are impressed and don't just see him as beneath your notice than it is to convince an Imprint.

Parent raised cocks will be more gentle when they initiate driving, as the drive is more like a compulsive need to complete a symbolic gesture for them than the actual hand to hand combat to manually overpower a titan that these matches are to an imprinted cock.

To convince a cock that he really has won your admiration fair and square, Start by putting up some resistance when he initiates.

Push him back, shake your hand, ruffle and wrestle with him like you would a very small kitten.

You will need to do this WAY longer for an imprint than a parent raised bird, but when you want to wind down the match, pay attention to what he's doing.

He is never just biting.

He is trying to maneuver your hand either by tugging or shoving.

Follow where he directs until he stops either pulling or pushing, and just pushes down. That is where he wants your hand to be.

Relax it there until he turns away, then go about your business.

It will take a few sessions, but once he's satisfied he's impressed you, he'll have no need to go all out like that anymore.

Ankhou (an imprint who is extremely satisfied with a now five year long extremely stable relationship) doesn't engage in driving fights with me anymore, but we do have lots of brief, very gentle wrestling sessions.

Hens don't need human mates to impress them in hand to hand combat like they require a cock to.

They are intelligent enough to assume that nothing her size is going to stand a chance against something your size.

The peaceful simplicity of bonding with a hen tends to make them more desired as therapy and companion animals.

Bonded cocks are just as cuddly and sweet, but you have to go through his Driving impulse to get to that point with him.

This doesn't make cocks bad pets or therapy prospects, but they are definitely not the ideal match for everyone.

@tinysaurus-rex ‘s Battar is an excellent example of a bonded hen.

If you would like to see how his owner applies the constant biting of a feral Imprint towards physical therapy for nerve pain flair ups, check out the blog @homeofhousechickens and search for Loki.

They also have a parent raised, human social emotional support cock named Fluffernutter and have made a lot of great posts illustrating the contrast between imprinted pigeons and pigeons who were raised by their parents, but socialized with lots of gentle handling.

I hope this helps the people who have their bird’s physical needs planned out to pick the bird whose emotional needs they can best meet, and whose personality will best match their emotional needs. <3

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