#your old apple computer was terrible but I love you

[badlydrawnmanic]

remember when netflix was just a quirky website that let you remotely rent dvds or am i a boomer to my audience here

#not an ask #ooc #grandma I cherish those times when we’d go to blockbuster #or when you’d let me watch Pokémon the movie 3 87 times in a row #your old apple computer was terrible but I love you

[andmaybegayer]

What are some of the coolest computer chips ever, in your opinion?

Hmm. There are a lot of chips, and a lot of different things you could call a Computer Chip. Here's a few that come to mind as "interesting" or "important", or, if I can figure out what that means, "cool".

If your favourite chip is not on here honestly it probably deserves to be and I either forgot or I classified it more under "general IC's" instead of "computer chips" (e.g. 555, LM, 4000, 7000 series chips, those last three each capable of filling a book on their own). The 6502 is not here because I do not know much about the 6502, I was neither an Apple nor a BBC Micro type of kid. I am also not 70 years old so as much as I love the DEC Alphas, I have never so much as breathed on one.

Disclaimer for writing this mostly out of my head and/or ass at one in the morning, do not use any of this as a source in an argument without checking.

Intel 3101

So I mean, obvious shout, the Intel 3101, a 64-bit chip from 1969, and Intel's first ever product. You may look at that, and go, "wow, 64-bit computing in 1969? That's really early" and I will laugh heartily and say no, that's not 64-bit computing, that is 64 bits of SRAM memory.

This one is cool because it's cute. Look at that. This thing was completely hand-designed by engineers drawing the shapes of transistor gates on sheets of overhead transparency and exposing pieces of crudely spun silicon to light in a """"cleanroom"""" that would cause most modern fab equipment to swoon like a delicate Victorian lady. Semiconductor manufacturing was maturing at this point but a fab still had more in common with a darkroom for film development than with the mega expensive building sized machines we use today.

As that link above notes, these things were really rough and tumble, and designs were being updated on the scale of weeks as Intel learned, well, how to make chips at an industrial scale. They weren't the first company to do this, in the 60's you could run a chip fab out of a sufficiently well sealed garage, but they were busy building the background that would lead to the next sixty years.

Lisp Chips

This is a family of utterly bullshit prototype processors that failed to be born in the whirlwind days of AI research in the 70's and 80's.

Lisps, a very old but exceedingly clever family of functional programming languages, were the language of choice for AI research at the time. Lisp compilers and interpreters had all sorts of tricks for compiling Lisp down to instructions, and also the hardware was frequently being built by the AI researchers themselves with explicit aims to run Lisp better.

The illogical conclusion of this was attempts to implement Lisp right in silicon, no translation layer.

Yeah, that is Sussman himself on this paper.

These never left labs, there have since been dozens of abortive attempts to make Lisp Chips happen because the idea is so extremely attractive to a certain kind of programmer, the most recent big one being a pile of weird designd aimed to run OpenGenera. I bet you there are no less than four members of r/lisp who have bought an Icestick FPGA in the past year with the explicit goal of writing their own Lisp Chip. It will fail, because this is a terrible idea, but damn if it isn't cool.

There were many more chips that bridged this gap, stuff designed by or for Symbolics (like the Ivory series of chips or the 3600) to go into their Lisp machines that exploited the up and coming fields of microcode optimization to improve Lisp performance, but sadly there are no known working true Lisp Chips in the wild.

Zilog Z80

Perhaps the most important chip that ever just kinda hung out. The Z80 was almost, almost the basis of The Future. The Z80 is bizzare. It is a software compatible clone of the Intel 8080, which is to say that it has the same instructions implemented in a completely different way.

This is, a strange choice, but it was the right one somehow because through the 80's and 90's practically every single piece of technology made in Japan contained at least one, maybe two Z80's even if there was no readily apparent reason why it should have one (or two). I will defer to Cathode Ray Dude here: What follows is a joke, but only barely

The Z80 is the basis of the MSX, the IBM PC of Japan, which was produced through a system of hardware and software licensing to third party manufacturers by Microsoft of Japan which was exactly as confusing as it sounds. The result is that the Z80, originally intended for embedded applications, ended up forming the basis of an entire alternate branch of the PC family tree.

It is important to note that the Z80 is boring. It is a normal-ass chip but it just so happens that it ended up being the focal point of like a dozen different industries all looking for a cheap, easy to program chip they could shove into Appliances.

Effectively everything that happened to the Intel 8080 happened to the Z80 and then some. Black market clones, reverse engineered Soviet compatibles, licensed second party manufacturers, hundreds of semi-compatible bastard half-sisters made by anyone with a fab, used in everything from toys to industrial machinery, still persisting to this day as an embedded processor that is probably powering something near you quietly and without much fuss. If you have one of those old TI-86 calculators, that's a Z80. Oh also a horrible hybrid Z80/8080 from Sharp powered the original Game Boy.

I was going to try and find a picture of a Z80 by just searching for it and look at this mess! There's so many of these things.

I mean the C/PM computers. The ZX Spectrum, I almost forgot that one! I can keep making this list go! So many bits of the Tech Explosion of the 80's and 90's are powered by the Z80. I was not joking when I said that you sometimes found more than one Z80 in a single computer because you might use one Z80 to run the computer and another Z80 to run a specialty peripheral like a video toaster or music synthesizer. Everyone imaginable has had their hand on the Z80 ball at some point in time or another. Z80 based devices probably launched several dozen hardware companies that persist to this day and I have no idea which ones because there were so goddamn many.

The Z80 eventually got super efficient due to process shrinks so it turns up in weird laptops and handhelds! Zilog and the Z80 persist to this day like some kind of crocodile beast, you can go to RS components and buy a brand new piece of Z80 silicon clocked at 20MHz. There's probably a couple in a car somewhere near you.

Pentium (P5 microarchitecture)

Yeah I am going to bring up the Hackers chip. The Pentium P5 series is currently remembered for being the chip that Acidburn geeks out over in Hackers (1995) instead of making out with her boyfriend, but it is actually noteworthy IMO for being one of the first mainstream chips to start pulling serious tricks on the system running it.

The P5 comes out swinging with like four or five tricks to get around the numerous problems with x86 and deploys them all at once. It has superscalar pipelining, it has a RISC microcode, it has branch prediction, it has a bunch of zany mathematical optimizations, none of these are new per se but this is the first time you're really seeing them all at once on a chip that was going into PC's.

Without these improvements it's possible Intel would have been beaten out by one of its competitors, maybe Power or SPARC or whatever you call the thing that runs on the Motorola 68k. Hell even MIPS could have beaten the ageing cancerous mistake that was x86. But by discovering the power of lying to the computer, Intel managed to speed up x86 by implementing it in a sensible instruction set in the background, allowing them to do all the same clever pipelining and optimization that was happening with RISC without having to give up their stranglehold on the desktop market. Without the P5 we live in a very, very different world from a computer hardware perspective.

From this falls many of the bizzare microcode execution bugs that plague modern computers, because when you're doing your optimization on the fly in chip with a second, smaller unix hidden inside your processor eventually you're not going to be cryptographically secure.

RISC is very clearly better for, most things. You can find papers stating this as far back as the 70's, when they start doing pipelining for the first time and are like "you know pipelining is a lot easier if you have a few small instructions instead of ten thousand massive ones.

x86 only persists to this day because Intel cemented their lead and they happened to use x86. True RISC cuts out the middleman of hyperoptimizing microcode on the chip, but if you can't do that because you've girlbossed too close to the sun as Intel had in the late 80's you have to do something.

The Future

This gets us to like the year 2000. I have more chips I find interesting or cool, although from here it's mostly microcontrollers in part because from here it gets pretty monotonous because Intel basically wins for a while. I might pick that up later. Also if this post gets any longer it'll be annoying to scroll past. Here is a sample from a post I have in my drafts since May:

I have some notes on the weirdo PowerPC stuff that shows up here it's mostly interesting because of where it goes, not what it is. A lot of it ends up in games consoles. Some of it goes into mainframes. There is some of it in space. Really got around, PowerPC did.

#computer stuff #vlsi

[babybluebex]

Just imagine dadJoe if his little ones showed up at a photoshoot or an interview 🥹

tiny lil blurb lol bc we deserve it

“This project was so special to me,” Joe said, looking just past his computer as he thought about the interviewer’s question. The interviewer sat on the other end of the Zoom call, watching and waiting, and Joe added, “We filmed mostly in London, which meant I got to stay home with my girlfriend and our daughter, and that was meaningful to me.”

“How old is your daughter now?” the interviewer asked, and Joe smiled widely, thinking about his little Evelyn, his dearest Evie.

“She’s two and a half,” Joe answered. “And she’s a handful, but I adore her.”

“Terrible twos, right?” the interviewer laughed, and Joe nodded as he smiled. “Just one more question, Joseph—“

Just then, the door to Joe’s office creaked open, and he quickly turned to try to shut it; the flat had a draft that opened doors all the time, and he thought he had closed it fully, but he stopped when he saw his curly-haired Evie standing there in her jammies, holding her stuffed bear to her chest. “Well, hello there,” Joe cooed, sliding away from his desk and beckoning her over to him.

Evie instantly went to her daddy, climbing into his lap as she popped her thumb in her mouth, and Joe grunted as she adjusted her tiny weight on his lap. “Seems like someone woke up early from her nap,” Joe said, smoothing down Evie’s wily curls, and he planted a kiss on her head. “Where’s Mummy, darling?”

Evie shrugged and cuddled up in Joe’s warm arms, and he smiled as he turned his attention to his computer once more and the interview call. “This is Evie,” he said. “She gets clingy after naps.”

“Hi there, Evie,” the interviewer said, and Joe smiled as Evie waved at them. “Like I said, one more question— Did being a father affect your performance in this movie? I mean, a horror movie is quite a big undertaking.”

“Well, being a father affects every aspect of my life,” Joe started, wrapping his arms around Evie’s middle. “I wanted the job in A Quiet Place because of how the script affected me, I couldn’t help but imagine if I went through this, how would I protect my family versus how my character protects his family. I would lose sleep, worrying if I would be able to protect my girlfriend and my daughter in this situation. It affected my performance greatly, I’d say.”

“Daddy,” Evie mumbled, her thumb still in her mouth.

“Yes, my love?” Joe said, looking down at her, and she rested her head on his chest, playing with the thin silver chain around his neck.

“Hungry,” Evie said, and Joe nodded, rubbing her back.

“Hungry? That won’t do at all,” Joe said. “We’ll get a little snack in a minute, when Daddy’s done here, alright? I’m almost done.”

“Okay,” Evie whispered, and she kicked her legs a little as she waited.

Joe smiled and shook his head a little, amused by her, and he asked, “You said that was the last question?”

“That’s all I’ve got for you,” the interviewer said, and Joe nodded. “Thank you for your time, have a good one.”

“You too,” Joe said, and he looked down at sleepy Evie in his lap. “Say bye, Evie.”

“Buh-bye,” Evie mumbled, waving at the camera again, and Joe was quick to click off the Zoom call.

“Let’s go find that snack, eh?” Joe asked, slinging her around his waist as he stood from his chair, kissing her face again. “I’m feeling some apples and peanut butter, how does that sound to you?”

#joseph quinn x you #bex answers #joseph quinn x reader #live-love-be-unique #dad!joseph quinn #bex’s drabbles

[dredshirtroberts]

Sometimes...Sometimes I get just so angry at my parents. Not for things they're currently doing - haven't heard from either of them in a few weeks. But for figuratively and literally handicapping me from easily navigating the social requirements of adulthood in a late-stage capitalist society.

And i can't say a damn thing on anywhere that family follows because you don't say bad things about your parents! they raised you! they sacrificed for you!

Bullshit.

They did no such fucking thing. Dad always had whatever gadget or geegaw he wanted - he was into computers before home computers were widely a thing, and he liked the newest, fanciest stuff. From Macintosh. Even now, the man will not stray from brand loyalty - gotta hand it to him, that's certainly a thing you can be is loyal. IDK why he chose Apple, or the republican party, or my mom (okay probably because she was hot - i've got good genes on that front and it's disingenuous to pretend that's not a million percent the reason my parents got together and ended up making me) but he did and he has stuck with those things for decades.

They also didn't do much raising of me. They sheltered me, sure. They fed me, made sure i was clothed. But they didn't... spend time with me. Unless they had to or it made them look good.

All of my memories of them from childhood are them checking in on me while i've been playing alone for what seemed like hours. Mostly to tell me i've made a mess and need to clean up or there will be punishment, or that it was time for a meal and to get ready to eat - but first pick up your toys.

I wasn't told how to clean up - i was just supposed to know. I wasn't told how to make friends, i was just told "Go talk to them!" but i was also taught to wait until you were acknowledged because interruptions were rude.

i was taught how to balance a checkbook. So i could access my allowance that theoretically didn't exist unless i asked for the money using the fake checks.

Most of my memories of childhood are being yelled at for not doing something I was just supposed to have known I guess - things I learned later that you have to be taught because I did eventually learn how to do it. But I was an adult.

And now I'm 10 mushrooms in a trenchcoat (possibly more! who knows!) polyam, queer, fucking Bernie Sanders' version of Socialist (which i know is not terribly far left in the grand scheme of things, but considering my parents continue to support 45 i feel like it's a pretty big swing from the young-republican, hitler-youth looking ass i was when i was a teenager and couldn't know better because i was isolated from everyone), and my body is broken because no one cared enough to take me to a doctor when I was injured unless it would make my parents look bad if I accidentally told someone I hadn't gone.

My sister had parents. I had absentee alcoholic older siblings who didn't even want me in the first place. Dad has said so several times - never in a way meant to hurt me, but you can't just tell your child you wanted to run away when you found out their mother was pregnant, and you can't tell your child they are no longer your responsibility because they've crossed some age threshold and you haven't considered them your "responsibility" in years.

I am...apoplectic with rage some days. More on the days where old injuries are what's keeping me down, rather than just the general horrificness of my own cringefail body and the multiplicity paired with about 8 different neurodivergencies and mental illnesses. More on the days where I remember that there are people out there who were loved. More on the days where I am shown kindness and compassion from those who shouldn't give it to me because I haven't had to earn it yet.

More on the days where I am struggling to try and come to terms with the fact that I will never be what I once, physicality-wise. More on the days where I look back at my life, at all of the decisions and choices I made - see that they were similar to or better than the ones my parents made, that I followed all the rules and directions as best I possibly fucking could...

...and yet I am blamed that I couldn't recover on my own from financial abuse that drained me more than dry. I am blamed for not being able to bootstrap it up because they did. I am blamed for not asking for help from people who never admitted they needed help until it was already too late for me to learn and they never offered help unless i'd fucked up first and then berated me for it.

I...

I am just so angry. And I want to publicly shame my parents for how they treated me. I want to publicly shame everyone who has treated me poorly because I DIDN'T DESERVE IT.

But that's impolite. So I won't.

...y e t.

#i have to remember i am leaving this place and they will be too far away to hurt me #i have to remember that because if i don't i will get so bogged down with how shit i feel that i will not do the steps that will help me #to get away #struggling a lot with the fact that a lot of the signs that i was abused are invisible #both then and now #it just looks like i'm the worthless piece of crap my parents always warned me i would be if i couldn't keep to the script #which they have decided i didn't do because i'm not who i was trying to be to earn their approval #i just wanted them to love me and i don't think that's within my power to make them do #which is absurd because have you met me? i'm one of the most lovable motherfuckers in this bitch

[heart-hammer]

Menver Pt. 1: Rock Guys

Living in “Menver” is terrible and I love it.

Denver is the land of single men. When you live here, you run into a lot of them. Like, a lot. So many in fact that you start to categorize them into specific types.

One of those types are Rock Guys. Rock Guys are fucking everywhere.

Rock Guys aren’t Crystal Guys. Crystal Guys went to design school and journal every morning. Rock Guys are different.

For one thing, Rock Guys don’t buy their rocks. Every piece in a Rock Guy’s collection was pulled from the ground by their own hands, and they’ll tell you about when and where it happened for as long as you’re willing to listen. Sometimes longer.

Rock Guys think people who pay for rocks are silly. Rock Guys think people who pay for anything are silly because Rock Guys are Facebook-Marketplace, dumpster-dive-on-a-hot-Saturday-afternoon, haggle-until-blue-in-the-face frugal.

Rock Guys have trade jobs. They work with their hands. They mountain bike. They dress like they’re between housing situations. They carry Bowie knives everywhere, even to brunch spots, and you just sort of have to be cool with that because Rock Guys are incredibly stubborn.

You know those kids who were super into dinosaurs in kindergarten? Some of them grew up to be Rock Guys. The kids who could name every Pokémon got degrees in Computer Science and invested in crypto and the kids who knew a lot about insects developed prescription pill addictions.

Anyway, back to Rock Guys: You’ll meet them at a dog park and invite them over and they’ll bring rocks. This one was originally from upstate New York. He brought Herkimer diamonds in a Ziploc bag and larger pieces of quartz wrapped in old newspaper. He was tall and lean and standoffish. I was nervous in his presence, which was a sensation I think we both enjoyed.

He had an app that showed all the miles he’d biked. He talked about his times in relation to everyone else's, as if I wouldn’t be properly impressed without the comparison. Turns out Rock Guys sort people into categories too. There’s “Most People” and then there’s “Him”.

We didn’t date, exactly. Rock Guys don’t really “do” commitment or labels. But we hung out for months. He cooked for me. We ate standing up. We fucked standing up. He didn’t seem to like when I knew things but also was mildly annoyed with me when I didn’t know something. It wasn’t long before I realized that he loved the dog he shared with his ex more than he could ever love me, and I was fine with that.

She’s a really good dog.

He had this way of serving up criticism dressed as unsolicited advice, like a shitty personal trainer.

“You should get better dining chairs so that you don’t have to hunch over your plate like a gremlin.” “Apologizing that much makes you seem insincere.” “He probably asked where you’re from because of all the makeup. He’s not used to seeing that from girls here.”

And like a shitty personal trainer, his opinion could only matter to me for a short time. He would say something rough and when he left my apartment I would think, ‘God, is that what he really thinks of me?’ and then 25 minutes and a slice of apple tart later I’d be staring at photos of him shirtless and all (well, not ALL but most) would be forgotten.

We fell out of touch, which was more his doing than mine. I didn’t pursue him. Rock Guys are fast, man. Once they get rolling downhill they just don’t stop.

I still keep some of the rocks he gifted me on my bookshelf. I like looking at them. They remind of hard, fond moments.

#writing #writer #writers on tumblr #dating #relationship #denver #writer stuff #writeblr #humor #personal #Vimeo

[surveysonfleek]

1642.

Have you ever been afraid to get up and go to the bathroom? yes omg. last year while watching hamilton i had to go to the bathroom soooo badly but for plays like this, the doors are closed and it’s like ‘frowned upon’. u also cant leave/come back unless there’s a break in scene so i sucked it up and squirmed in my seat :( Do you get any magazines in the mail? haha no. magazines are over How many websites do you have an account for? too many Have you ever paid for any kind of online membership? yes, i have a ton of streaming subscriptions

Do you try clothes on before you buy them? yes unless im online shopping

Have you seen The Blindside? i have What’s the best movie you’ve seen this year? hmm was spiderman released this year? if so, that. Do you know how to fire a gun? i have an idea in my head but not sure What would you do if you knew a robber was in your house? scream, grab my phone and any sort of weapon Have you played the Sims 3, yet? i have What’s your favorite type of pizza? meat lovers :)

Do you have a favorite local pizza place? i dont. pizza hut prob What are you afraid of? losing the people i love Have you ever been afraid of falling in love? haha nope How do you let someone know that you like them? id show it Have you ever asked a friend to ask someone else out for you? no Who’d you last see in a tux? i dont remember. prob all the guests at the last wedding i went to Were you sad when Tim Urban got sent home on American Idol? i have no idea who that is What about Jason Castro, 2 years ago? ^ Do you record any TV shows and watch them later? nope! must be an old survey haha Do you have difficulty pronouncing any words? nah, only if im under pressure Would you rather take a shower or a bath? shower How many times do you shower in a week? everyday What brand’s your cell phone? apple Have you ever sexted? lol like 10 years ago

How many contacts do you have? too many. i havent cleaned out my contacts ever since i got my iphone 14 years ago Do you have your own computer? only a laptop Out of everyone you know, who was the most heart? hmmmmmmmm. there’s a few people! Who’s the bravest person you know? idk Who would you want to have your back if things got tough? def my fiance and my immediate family, always Do you ever make up retarded words with your friends? :S Have your friends ever given you answers to homework, last minute? i dont remember Have you ever dated someone who was real sportsy? nope, never Are you any good at writing? no What’s your favorite form of writing? – What do you think about Lil Wayne? i like some of his music for sure Lil Wayne Vs. Eminem…?? :S i listen to lil wayne more but i actually think eminem is better Have you ever given up on someone before? yes Did you end up regretting it later in life? no Have you ever done something terrible, but took forever to feel bad? haha not really. i always feel bad for the shit i do Have you ever read Shakespeare? yes, for high school How come no one knows what MGMT is on here? i know who they are lol What did you dream about last night? idr Have you ever looked up the meaning to a dream? i havent lol. i always think, omg i wonder what that dream meant but i hardly remember my dreams in general Have you ever tried to change someone? nope.  Can anyone really change anyone that doesn’t wanna change? hmm.. yea theres always a chance Do you think that anyone currently has a crush on you? my fiance What profession do you admire the most? healthcare workers Have you ever made a fake profile, for any reason? haha yes! i did when i was in highschool to fuck around w people. nothing serious, i just wanted to see what theyd talk about on msn hahaha What’s the hardest lesson you’ve ever had to learn? the value of money. i was given a credit card when i was a lot younger and it was definitely the worst thing my parents couldve allowed What are you wearing right now? pjs Do you miss your ex? no What’s the first thing you notice about the opposite sex? face Have you ever questioned your sexuality? i have but im pretty sure im just straight. im not sexually attracted to women whatsoever If you could change one thing about your life, what would it be and why? i wouldve started looking for a new job last year

#survey #surveys #quiz #bored #questions

[sheetdaniel42]

Web apps that are cool make it easy to find music on Youtube.

This is a story I composed. I love deezer, spotify and other music. However, they don't provide me with enough music from countries outside the US. Amazon music and Apple/Itunes, I appreciate, but they do not offer new and exciting music until they're too old. Di.fm and other streaming online radio stations are fantastic, but they don't play the latest cool songs often. Additionally they have all their music is offered in 1 hour increments. This is ideal for those looking to party, tunnel, or even throw down. That's why I go to Youtube. YouTube is a place where that has music from every nation, from every culture and background. Youtube also displays it immediately after it's heard on radio stations. Youtube music is distributed by music labels, but it also happens because of the millions of music lovers who record their favorite songs then save it to a video, and then upload it to Youtube. You can also sing the song yourself and then share it. These shares can be seen millions of times and yet they aren't identified by copyright claims services. you tube video downloader In any case, this makes any old or new track on Youtube be found in dozens of copies, from excellent quality to terrible sung by the drunken group of people in the video. All is well, so long as I enjoy the music. I listen to the tracks, buy top quality copies and, truthfully, have not had to pay for music for a number of years. It's amazing to locate music from the 80s alongside music from the 90s and dance songs from the 2000s on Youtube. Sometimes, the videos will mention "this and That decided to stop you from listening to that song".. This doesn't stop my browsing Flvto or Y2mate and Y2mate, where I search for MP3s. How does it all work? It's as easy as typing in your search. The website will return more than two dozen results. When I click one of these results, it will offer me the option to download mp4 or convert YouTube video to mp3. It's simple and requires no technical knowledge. I have every song I need from Youtube and enjoy it at home. It doesn't matter if the videos stop streaming, I've got a copies of them on my computer ready for viewing whenever I want. It's incredible! It allowes me overcome limitations Youtube puts on my "country", so I can listen to music from Europe and Africa no problems.

#ytmp3 downloader #mp3 mp4 download

[mianavs]

Gezellig

You were the warmth that only another person could give

Kenma x f!reader

a/n: kenma is definitely my comfort character~

wc: 1.8k

It started with an apple pie recipe.

Kenma was editing his latest play-through video for a new video game when the craving for his favorite food creeped up on him again. He considered going to the nearby bakery that sold decent mini apple pies but a glance at the clock on his computer put an end to that idea—it was midnight and the bakery had been closed for three hours.

Normally Kenma would have settled for the day old pastry on his kitchen table but the craving for apple pie had plagued him for a while now. The reason? His neighbor had baked one a couple days ago and Kenma couldn’t stop thinking about the delicious aroma that had seeped through the walls into his unit.

A hasty thought crossed Kenma’s mind and he got up from his gaming chair to wander into the kitchen. He scanned the counters until his eyes landed on the two large apples Kuroo dropped off along with other groceries Kenma let spoil more often than not. The presence of the main ingredient spurred his impulses and Kenma fell back onto his couch as he scrolled through YouTube for an easy apple pie recipe. His perceptive eyes were immediately drawn to the golden crust of the pie on your thumbnail and his fingers clicked on your video without a second thought.

In the end, Kenma never got to making the apple pie and instead binge-watched every video on your ASMR cooking channel until he passed out at five in the morning.

Kenma knew he was obsessed when he turned on the notification bell on your channel. He loved the simplicity of your videos. There wasn’t any cheesy background music or obnoxious text. Your videos were intimate and comforting with the natural sounds of your cooking or baking and the high-quality recordings. More often than not, Kenma found himself unwinding to your content after a stressful meeting with the board members or a difficult gaming session. In fact, the more he watched your videos the more he found himself closing his eyes and imagining himself in your kitchen listening to the sizzling of the sautéing vegetables or the whir of your mixer combining the ingredients of a cake. It wasn’t necessarily hard to do since the layout of your kitchen was very similar to his own.

He should have found it suspicious when his neighbor��s cooking seemed to predict the video you would upload next but Kenma wasn’t one to dwell on unnecessary things like that. So when his neighbor cooked a delicious smelling recipe, Kenma would crave it the next day and ordered it to eat while he watched your nimble hands cook a similar dish.

In the two years Kenma had lived in his unit, he’d never crossed paths with his foodie neighbor. Although considering his line of work, Kenma supposed it wasn’t too surprising. He spent most of his time in his office and only when out when necessary. So when his doorbell rang and it wasn’t Kuroo with groceries or takeout but a young woman with a sheepish look on her face, Kenma froze like a deer in headlights.

“Hi! Umm…I’m your neighbor,” she introduced herself and awkwardly held up a small bowl. “Do you have some salt I can borrow?”

“Uh…yeah, come in.” Kenma replied stepping aside to let her in. There was a softness about her demeaner that drew him in and it wasn’t until her eyes blinked at him in confusion that he realized he’d been staring.

“T-this way.”

As Kenma led his neighbor to the kitchen he wracked his brain for the location of the salt container Kuroo had bought for him to use despite never having cooked a meal in his life. It took a couple of tries flipping through cupboards before he found the large salt container and handed it to his neighbor.

“Thanks!” She accepted it and began pouring some into her bowl. “Y’know your kitchen is a lot like mine but way cleaner!”

“I don’t really use it,” Kenma admitted. “I find it kind of intimidating…cooking.”

“It is at first but it gets easier the more you do it.” She smiled as she handed the salt back to Kenma and he couldn’t help but admire the way her entire face seemed to smile. Her eyes crinkled into crescent moons while the apples of her cheeks framed her gummy smile endearingly.

“I guess that applies to a lot of things.”

“Yes, it really does! I’m a firm believer in practice makes perfect.”

With that she thanked Kenma profusely and apologized for the intrusion before slipping on her shoes and walking out the door. While it may have only been a few minutes, the impression she left on Kenma lasted much longer. He went outside more just so he could run into his nice neighbor who would always strike up a conversation with him about anything. And while he was normally not one for small talk, it never felt forced around her. She had a knack for making even the dullest subject a compelling topic and Kenma quickly looked forward to those moments outside their apartment complex, in front of the convenience store, or outside her unit.

But even those short conversations Kenma has with his neighbor reveal very little about her. So when Kenma gets a notification from your channel and opens YouTube, he drops his phone when your thumbnail picture isn’t food but rather his neighbor that he’d grown fond of. Kenma’s eyes dart to your shared wall as he comes to terms with the fact that his favorite content creator and his pretty neighbor are the same person. It takes a couple of minutes for the initial shock to pass and another twenty minutes for him to play the video in the comfort of his office and with his headset on.

You’re all smiles as you announce a giveaway to celebrate one-hundred thousand subscribers. You introduce each of the five prizes and explain each one in detail. They’re all cooking tools from one of your sponsors that Kenma recognizes from your previous videos. When you’re describing the rules to enter, the similarities between your apartment and his are glaringly obvious now and Kenma can only shake his head in disbelief. The video ends too quickly so he watches it another ten times almost convincing himself that it’s to understand the rules of the giveaway and consider each of the products despite knowing he’d never actually enter.

A week after your giveaway video, Kuroo comes over with food and drinks after a business trip. A meal and a couple of beers later, Kenma opens up to Kuroo about you and the fact that you’re not only his favorite YouTuber but his neighbor as well. The liquid courage spurs him on and Kenma talks about your gorgeous smile, soft-looking hair, and your laugh that goes from a giggle to a cackle within a matter of seconds. Always the observant friend, Kuroo notices the persistent smile on Kenma’s face as he goes on about you and urges his best friend to ask you out on a date. The thought of spending hours with you is enough to get his heart racing but his insecurities never fail to rear their ugly heads and Kenma dismisses the idea as quickly as it comes up.

Kenma drinks even more to drown his insecurities and fantasies of you while Kuroo drinks with him knowing it’s best to support him quietly like this. When the last drop of alcohol is consumed, the two friends are completely drunk and Kuroo crashes in the guest room while Kenma stumbles to his room and collapses on his bed as the world spins around him.

Your image comes to mind but it’s too hazy for Kenma’s liking so he pulls up your giveaway video and watches it for the hundredth time. You’re so happy about your channel’s milestone that Kenma can’t help but smile like a fool as you thank your subscribers profusely. It’s with lowered inhibitions that Kenma is able to scroll to the comment section and write out how much your channel means to him.

The sound of multiple notifications stirs Kenma awake to a terrible hangover. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and focuses on his blindingly bright screen to see what the fuss is about. There’s a message from his publicist asking if he’s okay but before Kenma can reply he gets a notification from your channel; however, it isn’t the typical one that lets him know you’ve uploaded a video. The notification is a heart reaction to a comment and Kenma’s heart is in his mouth as his shaky finger taps on your giveaway video.

He doesn’t have to scroll far to find his comment because it’s the first one with ten thousand likes and three hundred comments to boot. Completely mortified, Kenma reads through the comments that have a wide range of reactions. Some gush about how cute it is for Kodzuken to fanboy over your channel while others express their disappointment that their favorite gamer actually likes cooking ASMR. While they are unnerving, it isn’t the comments that worry Kenma but the little red heart you’d left on his comment.

While he doubts you knew who he was before, this comment and the crazy feedback will definitely pique your interest enough to look him up and find out who he really is. Scared of facing you, Kenma holes himself up in his apartment. To get you out of his mind, he buries himself in work and video game streams and turns off the notifications for your channel.

After a week of not hearing anything from you, Kenma thinks he’s in the clear until one evening he opens his door expecting his takeout only to find you.

You’re a sight for sore eyes and Kenma’s heart hammers in his chest as your eyes soften and you break into a smile. The aroma of cinnamon and apples wafts up to his nostrils and you raise your mitted hands to reveal the same pie that had drawn him to you in the first place.

“Your fans mentioned you like apple pie,” you explain with a chuckle. “And I still owe you for the salt.”

“My…fans?” Kenma asks, still stunned you’re talking to him despite the comment fiasco.

“Yeah, you see I needed a reason to visit my neighbor and ask him out. Luckily, he’s a famous streamer with lots of fans.” Your confidence almost hides flush on your cheeks that deepens the longer Kenma stares at you in shock.

“…Unless you don’t want to go out-“

“I do!” Kenma blurts out. “More than anything.”

Your entire face breaks into a smile. “Well then how about a pie date?”

With a stomach full of butterflies, Kenma lets you into his apartment for the second time only this time he knows what he feels for you and is comforted by the fact that you feel the same way.

#kenma x reader #kenma x you #hq scenarios #kenma fluff #hq x reader #hq x you #hq fluff #kenma x y/n #haikyuu scenarios #kenma scenario #kenma #kenma kozume #hq #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu imagines #navs.hq #navs.gezellig

[herstarburststories]

you and me and the devil makes three.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x reader, Demon!Dean Winchester x reader, past Lisa x Dean

Summary: Dean is a demon, he will take whatever he wants.

A/N: This got darker than I expected. I wanna make it clear I don't condone or engage with Dean's acts on this. This is my submission for @jawritter 's Make Me Cry Challenge. Congrats, honey! Hope you like it. Dividers by talesmanic and gif credit here

Prompt: I guess I should have been more like her.

Warnings: non consensual kissing, language, UNHEALTHY BEHAVIOR, non con (kissing and touching but no sex), dirty talk

Dean Winchester was a dreamer.

In the rawest way of the word, the meaning in the dust-collecting dictionaries and not the idealistic form. His eyelids shut close and, just like magic, Dean’s head was as haunted as the home he swore he’d never come back to in Kansas. The ghosts of the past, not ever so very friendly, coming to greet him at least three times per week. Sometimes they were happy films he could never starre in real life, his mom singing or a picnic with a lover saying that they needed to hurry up to get their kid at the baseball. The nightmares were sleepy visions of flesh and blood, mostly about his time underneath, Sam hurting, or his father spilling out his worst fears at his face. 

Maybe it was how the eldest Winchester’s brain compensated for the lack of bedtime tales and docile affairs growing up. The own way that his brittle soul discovered and molded not to let him collapse, or to always keep him on red alert. 

Good and bad deals are mostly a matter of which side you are betting your money on, really.

Because yeah, Dean did wake up feeling like he had shut his forest eyes briefly for twenty minutes instead of hours when he dreamed, but he also had never spent so long trapped in a better place. The green eyed hunter didn’t know which one was worse: the good dreams or the horrific ones. After all, he had went through all the atrocity and made it out alive, but the engulfed craving for light-hearted scenarios was suffocating. The hunter could never have it all. Trust him, he tried. Then, which is more agonizing: to have everything you ever wanted for a couple hours and have every scrap of it taken from you, or to undergo the calamity that accompanied your breaking point? 

Dean didn’t know, he didn’t even know what to tell Sam when he wondered what his brother had dreamt about to wake up sweating and screaming, all the light and stupid apple pie desires and the sharp brutality crawling out of the back of his mind. He made a joke, Megan Fox really liked knives, man. He kept it in, shoved down a good amount of alcohol, and mocked the worry of doing the lawn. Ready for another day. 

But now he was a demon, and apparently whatever he was made of - sulfur, cruelty, and black eyes under garden ones - wasn't worthy quiet reliefs in the middle of the night, or even frightening figments of memory. He became his worst dreams and all the dreams slipped beyond his reaches because of that. Demons, those unholy creatures, didn’t get the human peculiarities. You know what? Fine by him.

Who needed dreams when you don't need sleep, anyway? Even better: who needed dreams when you don't care about what you gotta do to put your greedy hands on the prize you had been eyeing for years? 

Dean Winchester was finally free. Free for the first time since he was a four years little boy who watched his mother burning with a terrorized expression, ironically mimicking the one Mary wore on the ceiling. His dad’s shouting for him to grab Sammy and run, take your little brother and run, echoing through years and years. There was never time for Dean, for his grief or his questions or whatever the child frozen in time under his rib cage could come up with. They said, stupid psychologists with their fancy degrees and malicious bartenders with a unfriendly grun under the counter who learned a little too much, everybody said that when someone was so traumatized as a kid, that person would tend to get frozen at that age. Therefore, how tremendously alleviating was to kill any reminiscing emotion of the whiny child he used to be. 

The kind of freedom that no traveler longed for; when one’s ruined and damaged enough not to care, and just take and take and take like hunger itself. Dean was an evil thing now, what else could he do but act on the figments of the worst intentions?

And feel so fucking good when doing that. 

‘’Where do you think he's going?’’ Your eyes raked over the street, darting between the asphalt under Baby’s wheels and Sam’s weary features.

‘’I don't know.’’ He sighed, attempting to organize his thoughts. Even as a demon, his brother wouldn’t just run miles and miles away by himself for no apparent reason. There had to be something you and Sam were missing out, some unseen clue or a hidden meaning. ‘’What the localizator says?’’

At least you had managed to put a tracker in his boots during your last encounter. Whatever Dean was thinking of starting there, you and Sam wouldn’t let him.

‘’Still Cicero, Indiana.’’ You sighed. Sammy furrowed his eyebrows, a long forgotten memory rising. ‘’What?’’

‘’We had a case there once years ago.’’ He explained, opting not to elaborate. Your and Dean’s relationship was troubled enough with his new self. Sam didn’t want to blow it up completely. His brother would need you once he came back to himself. The look on your face, though, reported how you weren’t buying his cheap excuses. The long haired hunter sighed. ‘’Did Dean ever tell you about that?’’

‘’No.’’

He stepped on the accelerator.

To find the woman was excruciatingly easy. The freckled demon couldn't believe he opened his computer many times and gave up before today. He glanced through the glass window and there she was, standing in all her glory with a body that seemed to forget how to grow old. Her tan skin still glowing, as appetizing as ever. Brown eyes shining so bright, tiny hands that always seemed to know where he wanted to be touched. She was laughing like there was no tomorrow, holding a glass of wine with one hand and her cellphone with the other, while her dark hair was falling so perfectly over her shoulder, like waves against the rocks in the sea.

Dean can’t wait to smell her again, to taste her, to prove her. His fingers were tingling, begging to touch what was his as he hopped off the car, walking towards the porch. He had been gone for a long time, but now he was back. 

He will destroy that quintessential, sequin woman so good.

The Winchester buckled in front of the white door, graced with the sound of the female giggle. Thin walls, he thought, those will be useful to make sure the neighbors know who’s back home. Her steps on the wood floor growing closer and closer as he heard a goodbye, probably aimed at whoever she was on the phone with. It was almost like the caramel skinned woman knew that whoever was on her doorstep wasn’t gonna be a hustled visitor. Or so the demon’s arranged mind said.

‘’Hey, Lis.’’ Dean’s voice lacked any cherishment as she opened the door, who would know that the absence of a soul wouldn't be gelid, just dry? As for her, Lisa’s face was drained of love. For all she was aware of, he was a stranger who knew her name. The male let out a chuckle empty of joy. She really didn’t remember, huh? ‘’Whoa. Cass really fucked up your head, huh? At least he did one thing right.’’

‘’Excuse me?’’ The man with dirty blonde hair and perfect teeth smelled like alcohol. She wasn’t having any of this tonight. ‘’Listen, I don’t know who you are and--’’

‘’Don’t worry.’’ He tranquilized her, although the lopsided grin on his lips held anything but good intentions. ‘’I’ll make you remember. I have a spell. You won’t believe how much you missed me.’’

The mocking laugh that left her lips utterly aggravated him. ‘’I don’t know you. Please leave or I’ll call the police.’’

Dean didn’t need a crowd for that part, a bratty woman in need of a firm hand should get a particular lesson. 

‘’You always liked a little cat and mouse.’’

Speaking of, the demon pushed the door wide open without any effort. Lisa jumped at the sudden move, every instinct inside her deciding that man was a threat and not some harmless wasted guy. Her body was quickly erect, thinking about ways to run and get help, but Dean swiftly pushed her to him and kicked the door closed-- her small figure collided to his chest.

Human savagery was cut in urban ways, molded to civilize the animalistic instincts. Imagine meat. A dead animal on a silver plate, and we couldn’t wait to chew every inch of it. We couldn’t wait to eat it, put that dead thing inside us and hope it’ll be enough to control the predatory hungry. Humans will always be animals, but so will be their rests that constructed the demons. 

Dean may not be a hunter anymore, but he’s still a predator who can't wait to taste his prey. He could small it, the fear in Lisa’s sweat making his mouth water. How much she tried to fight against him and scream other names when his was the only one he wanted her to need tonight. The resistance of a poor human barely made the monster shiver.

He closed his hands around her arms, throwing her against the wall like someone tossed an old toy away. There was no space for delicaly. In that moment, Dean Winchester was a tiger, a lion, the big bad wolf attacking the omega. Lis winced, her back hurting as her fibers. She couldn’t believe this was happening, that man was about to do something so terrible and disgusting to her in her own house, the place she was supposed to feel warm and safe. Why did he seem to know her? Why did he say she was gonna remember? Was he crazy, hallucinating, or drugged? Why was he so satisfied with how frightened her tiny body looked? How could she use all that information to somehow push him away?

‘’Let me go!’’ She demanded, her legs kicking the demon with ferocity. ‘’What’s wrong with you? LET ME GO NOW!’’

The brunette’s skilled body moved itself desperately, and the act of resistance only brought a hysterical laugh out of Dean. The wrong kind of goosebumps washed her skin, she had to run away for her life. This man was mad.

‘’FIRE! FIRE!’’ Lisa started to scream. Well-aware that people were most likely to come around and help a woman screaming if she said fire. ‘’THERE’S A FIRE. SOMEONE HELP ME!’’

One of his hands went to her neck, wrapping his fingers around it to shut her up. That was rubbing him off the wrong way. Lisa Braeden used to beg for his touch, how dared her not to want him anymore? Now that he was better, stronger, and thicker.

The brown eyed girl went quiet, probably scared by his brutal behavior. Dean smiled, a blood stained grin that carried mischief and pervertment. He licked the tears savoring the salty horror coming from her. Just like the day he was a vampire who almost gave in to drinking every drop of her luptuos blood. She may not remember but he did and he couldn't wait to get inside her, those tight walls squeezing his hard cock.

‘’You’re gonna do as I say, Lis. And I won't hurt you… Much.’’ He risped, crooked nose stroking her wet cheek. She whined. ‘’Don’t worry, honey. You loved it. Bet you’ll scream so much once I fuck you good.’’

‘’Please, don’t do it.’’ She begged as he coaxed his body against his. That man was stronger than her, she had no other choice but to plead to his human side. If only she knew.

‘’Begging already?’’ Dean lifted his head, smirking at her. Lisa just wanted to cry and close her eyes until everything was done. How could someone do that? ‘’I told you, don’t worry. I’m gonna make a lil’ spell that will give your memories back and you’ll remember everything. And then we’re gonna have so much fun, Lis.’’

His last murmur was finished with a kiss. A harsh, ruthless kiss. Actually, she wasn’t even sure if she could call it a kiss; teeth against each other, his vicious mouth pressed to her weakened lips, his tongue invading her like a robber and showing an unrequited dominance.

‘’Dean!’’ Your voice resonated stridently, louder than the door Sam had stormed open. You couldn’t believe what your eyes witnessed. ‘’Stop it!’’

Dean groaned, as if you and Sam were stepping on his territory. He simply turned his head to you two, not pulling away from Lisa. You couldn’t see her face, your boyfriend’s large shoulder and tall body covering her up. His eyes were still green, which set the scene in an even more atrocious light. 

Your thoughts were racing. How could he come to her, crave her so badly that he drove away miles and miles as a demon? He was supposed not to feel a thing. You prepared yourself for a cold man, not an obsessive one. Apparently, a heart hidden under the black smoke. Choose if it's a gift or Pandora's box. Sam told you their history. Of course he would want that and not you. Dean never left Lisa because he fell out of love for her, he was ripped out from her life. You were so pissed at yourself; how could you picture playing the woman in his veins? How stupid were you? He may be a demon guided by wants and not emotions, but what was love but an amount of outrageous desires laced up with some pretty words and flavored with dependency?

‘’Y/N and Sammy--’’

Love was the wrong word here. Anyway. Go head and unwrap it.

‘’Please help me!’’ Lisa’s voice came to life once more through her quiet cry. Dean hardened the hold around her throat, making her cough a little.

Suddenly, your body is frozen. That, whatever that is, whatever he’s doing to Lisa. It wasn’t love. She didn’t want it. When his frame moved to face you and Sam, you caught a glimpse of her face. She was petrified, her delicate features contorted in wrath and fear and beg for help.

‘’Quiet.’’ Dean howled, glancing at her rapidly before his eyes fell on you and Sam again. ‘’You two are such killjoys. I told you to let me go.’’

You couldn’t believe what you were witnessing. You wanted to puke your guts out.

‘’And what? Kill your ex? Or do something even worse to her?’’ You elicited with disgust.

‘’She’ll come around eventually. Just playing hard to get. You know how frisky women are.’’ The corner of his lips curved into a barbaric grim, one of his hands touching Lisa’s cheek. The victim winced at the touch. ‘’Besides, I’m not just gonna take her. I’ll make her remember and she’ll want me.’’ He shrugged, unbothered by the horrified looks of everyone in the room. ‘’Are you really worried about Lis, Y/N? Or are you just jealous that I didn’t go for you?’’

‘’Enough, Dean.’’ Sam groaned, holding the gun up. It felt oily. ‘’Let her go. And come with us.’’

The demon tossed the brunette away with a simple sleight of hand, pulling his sleeves up with a marred beam. His eyes switched from starry green to black, showing his true facette. It was a peculiar relief. It wasn’t Dean. It wasn’t Dean. It wasn’t Dean.

Yet, Dean’s gruff voice said in a twisted playful tone:

‘’Come get me, Sammy.’’

Dean Winchester was cured. For most people, to heal is to let go or to learn with things. In the doctor’s case, healing is leaving a bruise to cover up a wound. Everyone believed the war started and ended, and that was it. But when something so ravaging is gone, you gotta deal with the trauma.

He was a trauma. Cured from a sickness, drowning in sorrow and waves of woe. All the worst things Dean ever did, he knew now, weren’t to himself or to the monster he so proudly killed. His unspoken acts were against the people he cared about.

The hunter never thought his hands, his bruised and tough hands could ever hurt Lis. The woman who was his lifeline when Sam died, who allowed him to be a father and live in his dreamland of suburban life. All she ever did was to love him, and what did she get for it?

He was disgusted with himself. What almost did to her was enough to hunt him and make him sure he was going back to hell, very deserving this time. Threating to do that to a woman, and enjoy it… Dean couldn’t bear driving into memories. He was selfishly glad he didn’t remember about that, only Sam’s explanation was enough: he went to Lisa, he kissed her without her consent, and Sam and you stopped him going any further. Would his unscrupulous, demon self go ahead? He was too scared to wonder, even though his brother said that he apparently had a spell to make Lis remember and wasn’t planning on just taking her. A forced kiss was disgusting enough. He just wished Sam had put a bullet in his black eyes right there.

You walked in the bathroom that you once shared with the eldest Winchester

She was everything he ever wanted, all the suburban dreams and acceptance of hunter reality without being in it. Lisa loved him completely and you could only love him sideways-- you never wanted to be a mom, or to have a family or live in a suburb. Those were valid goals, just not yours. You thought you and Dean were on the same page about it, but this other side, not only the pervert demon but the domestic man, hadn’t been shown to you until a couple days ago. Sam had cured his brother, his dirty nature washed away with holy water, but you couldn’t help the bruises that came from the dog days. Lisa had her memory erased by Cass again, you didn’t have the same unfair luxury.

‘’Dean.’’ You said, making him look up at you. Bags under his eyes and wrinkles more evident than ever. ‘’We need to talk.’’

He sighed and wiped his face. ‘’Y/N, I don’t want to talk right now.’’

‘’You never do.’’ You scoffed, gaining an incredulous glance from him. ‘’I know that what happened was disgusting and sick and the worst thing you could ever do, but we need to talk.’’

He took a deep breath. ‘’What do you wanna talk about?’’

‘’You went to her.’’ You stated as a lawyer in front of a jury. Dean furrowed.

‘’What?’’

‘’Lisa. You went to her.’’ When the arrow hit someone so damaged, it was like an animal with his teeth there that wouldn't let go. Yeah, his human soul wasn't the same brittle glass as before but it lingered in his demon self in the shape of delusion, and it was distorted by whatever he was made of, violence and darkness, and turned into something disgusting. ‘’You love her.’’

‘’Love?’’ The word burned his tongue, Dean didn’t think he had the right to ever use it again. ‘’I was a demon, Y/N. I didn’t love or feel anything. What I did--’’

‘’You didn’t do anything.’’ You interrupted, loyal as a soldier.

‘’I forced a kiss on her and wanted to bring her memories back to have sex with her. That’s disgusting and I did half of that.’’ He pointed out aggitadly, plump lips moving fast and voice deeper. ‘’It wasn’t love. Leaving her years back was love.’’

You didn’t miss how Dean didn’t even dare to say her name. ‘’So you don’t think about her? Not even once?’’

He scoffed humourless. ‘’Are you kidding me?’’

‘’I guess I should have been more like her.’’ You hugged yourself, glancing at the wall. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not again, not for another woman. That wasn’t even your cicatrix to ache. 

‘’Y/N, what the fuck are you talking about?’’ The fully green eyed man raised to his feet, glancing at you with disbelief. He couldn’t face how messed up it was. ‘’I can’t believe you are jealous of what happened. I thought I was the broken one here.’’

‘’I’m not her.’’ You two shared it, the glance that only two women who were hurt by the same man could. You both understood that when he got inside you, it was like the syringe in an eutanasia. Once you were happy because you loved him, now you were scared and not so sure this was what you wanted. ‘’I’m not her and you knew it. When you became just instincts and selfish and did whatever you wanted, you didn’t come to me. You came to her.’’

‘’I hurt her.’’

The next words fly out of your mouth, as weak and totaled as you felt: ‘’Why didn’t you hurt me?’’

‘’This is the most unhealthy shit we ever went through.’’ Dean’s right. You have her expression mesmerized on your brain. Dean was the man on top of her, teaching her how to hate. How to fear. You can’t trust yourself. ‘’I can’t believe you.’’

‘’Neither can I.’’ You were so sick. How ravaged and annihilated one had to be to wish to be a demon's object of obsession? To get jealous that another woman almost died in the arms of a beast that cried his blood out once he came back to being a man and saw what he had done? ‘’I hate it. I hate feeling like this. I was there and I saw how scared of you she was, how all she wanted was to push you away and run because she was so disgusted--’’

‘’Stop.’’ He groaned, but it came out more like a whine than anything. ‘’It wasn’t me. I would never hurt Lis. I would never force her to do anything! I--’’

You gave him a sad smile. ‘’You love her.’’

‘’I love you.’’ Dean approached you, fumbling in despair to fix yet another thing his hands destroyed. If Rome was built in ruins, he was a kingdom. You pulled away before his tough hands landed on you.

‘’But you love her too.’’ The hunter stopped on his spot, unable to answer. ‘’I ruined myself for you, Dean. I can’t-- I won’t do that again. You are right. This is unhealthy. The fact that you’ve been pining for her for so long, pushing down those feelings to the point they are twisted into something so cruel and disgusting. You need help.’’ What kind of ugly you have to have inside you for a monster to love you? And, even worse, what kind of sickness you have trapped, written in your blood to want it to be spilled out in his name? ‘’You really are venom. If this is how you love, it’s scary as fuck.’’ When you loved a broken man, you were never sure if his shattered pieces would glisten or cut your hand once the light came in. Here’s your answer. His parts crawled inside you through pulled up scars, scraping your insides to make into ruins, but you never liked Rome much. You had to be better than that. ‘’Goodbye, Dean.’’

He couldn’t bring himself to go after your steps.

Once again, it’s the kind of freedom no traveler wants. When you lost it all and didn't have any person or place to cling to, when you had to leave because you were becoming the girl you swore you’d never leave, when you walked away willingly without a map.

Still, it was all you had. You’d make a good use of it. You’d be okay. No more ugly emotions or sentiments that made you unrecognizable. No more knives that cut both ways, or situations so complicated you weren’t sure where your morals could rely on.

You’d be okay, healthy, and happy.

You’d be okay.

Comment & reblog. Feedback is magic! Check my masterlist ♡ Tags in reblog!

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #jensmakemecrychallenge #demon!dean #demon!dean x you #demon!dean imagine #demon!dean x reader #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x you #dean x lisa #demon!dean x lisa #tw dubcon #supernatural #spn #dean winchester imagine #supernatural imagines #spn reader insert #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester imagines

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 5

We back at it again because I love this right now

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

After smuggling Derek into my room via the window, the interrogation began. He sat in my computer chair, leaning over, resting his arms on his legs.

“Uh, first I want to say thank you for saving me again.” I began. He looked up and nodded. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“And uh, you’re a werewolf.” I said, starting to pace back and forth, “Is Scott a werewolf?” 

“He is.” 

“Did you bite him?” I paused, crossing my arms over my chest. 

“No, I’m an omega. Only Alphas can give people the gift.” He said. You call that a gift? I’d like a receipt.

“Is there a cure?”

“There’s a legend that says if the beta, one of the pack, kills the alpha then he will become human again. But I don’t even know if that’s true.” He explained. That meant Scott’s odds were not looking good and this werewolf thing is permanent. 

“Were you bitten by the alpha?” I asked, sitting down on the edge of my bed. 

“No, I was born with it. My family was a pack. After…” He paused, “After the fire, my older sister became the alpha since she had been trained by my mother to be the new matriarch. I came back here because I hadn’t heard from her. Now we know why.” 

“I’m so sorry.” I looked down at my socks. These questions were making him bring up what must have been incredibly painful memories and bringing up the fresh pain of the murder of his sister. 

“The thing following you in the woods was the new alpha. He killed her for her alpha spark.” 

“Alpha spark?” 

“It can transform a beta, or an omega into an alpha. It’s taken when the alpha is killed by either of those. Or it can be transferred willingly.” This was a little more complicated than I thought. I knew that there were hierarchies in wolves, but who knew it translated to werewolves?

“Why is the alpha coming after me? You said it was following me.” 

He leaned back in the chair, “Well, he’s either looking to eat you. Or he wanted to turn you.” At my shocked expression he added, “Probably the latter. He’s a new alpha so he’s trying to start a pack, probably why he started with Scott. Speaking of, you need to tell him to stop seeing Allison.” 

“Why, what’s wrong with Allison?” 

“Her family are a very old lineage of werewolf hunters.” He said seriously, “Chris Argent and I have an unspoken agreement. No deaths, I don’t end up dead. I can’t say the same for the rest of his family.” He was something in his eyes, a pain that couldn’t be described. 

“I know I said I wanted answers but if its too painful-”

“It’s fine.” He interrupted. I raised my eyebrows at him. 

“Derek, I understand what it’s like to lose your family in one day. It’s the most awful feeling imaginable. Because after the pain is the loneliness. I got lucky that I have Uncle Noah and Stiles. You had your sister and now she’s gone and you’re the only one left.” He chewed the inside of his cheek. 

“It’s not just me. I have an uncle in a vegetative state at Beacon Hills long-term facility. And my sister Cora, I haven’t seen her since the fire. I think she’s gone too, but there’s always the chance that she’s still out there. She just doesn’t want anything to do with me.” He looked down at his hands. He looked so vulnerable right now, something I never expected from him. He had so many walls up. There were still things he was hiding about the Argents, but pushing him now didn’t seem right. 

I gave him a small smile and kneeled down in front of him. Slowly, I reached for his hands, giving him plenty of time to pull away, but he let me touch him. I held his hands in mine, rubbing my thumbs over his knuckles. I titled my head to meet his eyes that he was hiding. 

“Hey, grief is hard. Especially since we lost our families in the same way. Let’s help each other. Would that be okay?” I asked softly. He met my eyes finally, his stern expression was more loose than usual. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

“I want to. But I can’t.” 

The sound of the door opened behind us, and queue Stiles meltdown. And with the position I was in, on my knees in front of Derek Hale, maybe it was a little justified. 

“What is going on?” He asked. I quickly got to my feet. 

“Uh, Derek was just leaving. Just a quick little visit.” I took Derek by the arm, brought him out of the chair and ushered him to the window, where he left without another word. 

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?” Stiles shouted. 

“Will you keep it down?” I whispered loudly. 

“Oh you can cut the crap, Dad isn’t here. Why the hell is a wanted criminal in my house?!” 

I crossed my arms and shrugged innocently, “We were just talking.” 

“Why was he covered in blood?” He pointed to the dry blood that was on the arm of my chair. I sighed and rubbed my temples. 

“Okay, I’ll tell you. But you have to promise not to tell your dad.” I pleaded. He crossed his arms and looked away from me. 

“As an upstanding citizen of Beacon Hills-”

“You cut the crap, Stiles. You have more priors than he does.” 

“I wasn’t questioned about the murder of my sister.” He shot.

“He was acquitted of all changes due to his alibi.” I shot back.

He grumbled and shook his hands, “Fine, fine. Tell me.” 

“Okay, so, Michael found me in the woods-” 

“Michael-” He started. 

“Hey, no interrupting!” He held his hands up in surrender, motioning for me to go on, “He found me in the woods and was probably going to commit a bunch of unsavory things on me when Derek showed up because the night before when you and Scott were arguing, I went to his house to get some answers of my own, he told me to go home so I did.” I paused and took a drink out of the glass of water on my nightstand, then continued, “Anyway, when Derek showed up he killed Michael because Derek is a werewolf.” I rushed out. 

“A what?!” He shouted. 

“Oh don’t act so surprised, you know Scott is a werewolf.” 

He stepped back, pretending to be shocked, “Scott? A werewolf.” Clearly trying to cover for his friend, but no dice. Stiles was a terrible liar. 

“Derek told me. And he also told me that Allison’s family are werewolf hunters. But I assumed you already knew that because you don’t look surprised at all.” 

“Well, ahhh, her last name does mean silver in French.”  He added. I shook my head, holding my pinkie out. 

“Pinkie swear me you won’t tell Uncle Noah.” He sighed, tapping his foot, “Promise!” He grumbled, throwing his hands up in the air, but eventually he wrapped his pinkie around mine. 

“Fine.” He paused, still holding my pinkie, his grip on my finger tightened, holding me there, “But you have to swear not to get romantically involved!” He pulled his pinkie away. I gasped loudly, staring between my pinkie and his. 

“You can’t do that.” 

He smirked, “I just did.” 

“I am not romantically involved with Derek.” I blushed. 

“Coulda fooled me.” He scoffed. I huffed. 

“Okay, time for you to go. Goodnight Stiles.” I pushed him out the door and slammed it behind me. I leaned against the door and sighed. I wasn’t romantically involved with Derek, we just had a connection. 

…

Maybe I was romantically involved. But could you blame me, he was my knight in shining armor twice. That was attractive. And he was far from ugly. 

- 

The next morning, I went downstairs and was surprised to see Uncle Noah in the kitchen making breakfast. 

“Morning, I didn’t hear you come in last night.” I said, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. 

“That’s because,” He yawned, “I came in this morning.” He motioned to the table, “Sit, sit. Let me make you breakfast.” I sat at the table, pulling an apple out of the basket on the table. He placed a plate of eggs and toast in front of me. 

I smiled up at him, “Thanks, Uncle Noah.” He nodded, sitting down with his own plate before eating. The few minutes were in silence, just chewing. I decided I should at least talk, make it seem like I was still scared that Michael would come back. 

“I know you don’t want to bring up work at home, but is there any news on Michael?” He sighed through his nose, swallowing his bite of food. 

“It’s okay. And I wish I had better news, but we still haven’t found anything.” He said. I nodded. 

“It’s okay, I know you’ll find him.” Find his body? Maybe. But he was very much dead. The only thing I’m worried about now in the woods was the alpha werewolf and whether he wanted to make me lunch or one of them. 

- 

I was making my way out to get groceries when I saw Stiles Jeep whipping through the neighborhood. Being curious, I decided to follow, where I was led to Dr. Deaton’s office, the local veterinarian that Scott worked for. 

“Is there a reason you’re driving like a bat outta hell?” I called, seeing Stiles get out. 

“Oh great, you can help me carry him.” Stiles said, opening the back of the Jeep where Derek sat. He was pale, his eyes looked sunken in, and there was blood dripping down his hand. 

“Jesus Christ.” I said, carefully helping Derek out of the Jeep. He grunted while Stiles and I helped him inside after Stiles unlocked the door with the spare key. Scott had gone to go find the bullet so that Derek could cure himself, he would have to steal from Kate Argent.

 We brought him back into the operating area. I’m sure Stiles was chomping at the bit not to say something. Derek explained that he had been on the trail of the alpha when a hunter saw and shot him. 

Stiles looked at his phone then Derek, “Does Northern Blue Monkshood mean anything to you?”

Derek was leaning on the operating table, “It’s a rare form of wolfsbane. He has to bring me the bullet.”

“Why?”

Derek looked from me to Stiles, “Cause I’m gonna die without it.” He said breathlessly. He took his jacket, then his shirt off to reveal the bullet wound in his arm which was bleeding, but the strangest thing was his veins around the wound were purple and crawling up his arm. I guess Monkshood must be deadly to werewolves, but then again, it is wolfsbane. Derek looked manic, he was getting warmer and sweat was dripping off of him in buckets. He looked around and grabbed an amputation saw.  I grabbed a bowl filled with water and grabbed a couple paper towels. I wet the paper towels, and moving to touch his wounded arm, he pulled it away.

“Okay, if the Blue monkshood doesn’t kill you, an infection will. Let me help you.” I narrowed my eyes. He glared, his nostrils flared but he held his arm out. I lightly dabbed at it, careful not to apply too much pressure.

Stiles gagged when he saw it, prompting me to elbow his side, “Okay, you know, that really doesn’t look like anything, some echinacea and a good night’s sleep couldn’t take care of…?”

Derek swallowed thickly, “When the infection reaches my heart, it’ll kill me.”

“Positivity” just isn’t in your vocabulary, is it?”

“Stiles!” I scolded. 

“If he doesn’t get here with the bullet in time– last resort.” Derek grabbed an amputation saw from the table. 

“Which is…?” Stiles asked. 

“You’re gonna cut off my arm.” He rushed his words out, they slightly slurred together. 

“Okay okay.” I grabbed the saw from his grasp and set it back down on a metal tray, “Let’s just be a little optimistic. Scott’s going to be here soon.” He glared at me, causing me to raise my hands in surrender. He grabbed a rubber tourniquet and tied it tightly around his arm with his teeth to stop any further movement. 

Stiles held his arms out, “Oh, my God. What if you bleed to death?”

“It’ll heal if it works.”

“If it works?!” I snapped, not believing that any of this was happening still.

Stiles sight, “Ugh. Look - I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Why not?”

“Well, because of the cutting through the flesh, the sawing of the bone, and especially the blood!”

“You’re not afraid of blood. You don’t faint.” I said, confused. 

“No, but I might at the sight of a chopped - off arm!” 

“All right, fine. How about this? Either you cut off my arm, or I’m gonna cut off your head.” Derek glared. 

“Derek.” I scolded.

Stiles shook his head, “Okay, you know what, I'm so not buying your threats any-” Derek grabbed him by the shirt collar and lifted him up, “Oh, my God. Okay. All right, bought, sold. Totally. I’ll do it. I’ll do it.” Derek dropped him and Stiles looked back at his arm, “What? What are you doing? Holy God, what the hell is that?” His arm was oozing from the wound. 

“It’s my body..” Derek breathed out, “Trying to heal itself.”

“Well, it’s not doing a very good job of it.” Stiles avoided his arm once again.  

Derek grabbed the saw, holding it out to Stiles, “Now. You gotta do it now.”

“Look, honestly, I don’t think I can.”

“Just do it!” He shouted. 

Stiles took the saw, “Oh, my God. Okay, okay. Oh, my God. All right, here we go!” 

“I can’t watch this.” I covered my eyes with one of my hands, the other was on Derek’s uninjured arm. But like an angel’s voice, we heard Scott yelling for Stiles. 

“Scott?” Stiles asked, looking at the frazzled teen who just ran through the clinic.  I uncovered my eyes, still seeing Stiles with the saw pressed to Derek’s arm.

“What the hell are you doing?” Scott asked, exasperated. 

Stiles dropped the saw, “Oh, you just prevented a lifetime of nightmares.” 

Derek stood up more without the help of the table but he was starting to wobble, “Did you get it?”

“What are you gonna do with it?” Stiles asked. 

Derek swallowed thickly, “I’m gonna…I’m gonna…” His eyes fluttered shut, his knees buckled and he fell to the floor. 

“Derek!” I shouted, grabbing his torso before he broke his skull open on the floor. When Derek had dropped, it had knocked the bullet out of Scott’s hand and it had rolled.

“No. No, no, no, no.” Scott pleaded as he watched the bullet roll and fall into the vent in the floor. 

Stiles was down on the floor besides me, “Derek. Derek, come on, wake up.” He was tapping his cheek, “Scott, what the hell are we gonna do?”

“I don’t know! I can’t reach it.” Scott called from across the room.

“He’s not waking up!” Stiles said between his teeth, clearly in panic mode, but I wasn’t any better. I leaned my head down to his chest, trying to hear his heartbeat. 

“His heart beats slowing down!” I called, I grabbed his shoulder, starting to shake him, “Come on, Derek, wake up!”

“Come on.” I heard Scott grunt.

“I think he’s dying. I think he’s dead!” Stiles looking back in Scott’s direction. I started to panic, shaking him harder. I can’t lose him. I can’t. No one else I care about is allowed to die.

“Just hold on! Come on.” Scott let out a restrained yell, then shouted “Oh! I got it! I got it!” 

When Stiles heard that, he pushed me back and bowed his fist, “Please don’t kill me for this.” He swung and connected with Derek’s cheek, “Ugh! Ow! God!” He pulled his hand away, shaking it. Derek gasped and his eyes shot open, I helped Derek to feet and held his waist to steady him.

“Give me…” Scott gave Derek the bullet. He took the bullet between his teeth, and broke it open. He dumped the contents of it on the table. From his back pocket he pulled out a match book, he lit a match and dropped it on the contents. It burned quickly, an eerie blue flame. Once it went out, he pinched some of the ash in his fingers, then stuck his fingers in the wound. I winched and looked away. 

“Ow, God.” Stiles gagged. But we all watched in amazement as the dark veins that had been growing up his arm disappeared. I was finally able to breathe properly, I let out a sigh of relief, back away and leaning against the wall. I placed a hand on my chest, feeling my heart slowly go back into rhythm.

“That - Was - Awesome! Yes!” Stiles cheered, throwing his arms up. 

“Are you okay?” Scott asked.  

Derek grumbled a bit, “Well, except for the agonizing pain.”

“I’m guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health.” Stiles smiled, feeling accomplished. He probably just was relieved that he didn’t have to cut anyone’s arm off. 

“Okay, we saved your life, which means you’re gonna leave us alone, you got that? And if you don’t, I’m gonna go back to Allison’s dad, and I’m gonna tell him everything-” Scott started his threat. Which meant that I was severely out of the loop. 

“You’re gonna trust them?” Derek cut him off,  “You think they can help you?”

“Well, why not? They’re a lot freaking nicer than you are.”

 Derek glared at him, the pain was back in his eyes, “I can show you exactly how nice they are.” 

-

After the excitement was over, I decided to go to the Hale house to talk to Derek privately. I got there before him and waited for him in the driveway. I really shouldn’t have come unannounced. He would probably just tell me to get lost like he usually did. I was pulled out of my thoughts by his black Camaro pulling up beside my car. I got out as he did. Derek still looked pretty rough but his color was coming back to his skin.

“Hey, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine.” He said dismissively, walking towards his house. And we were back to this. Even after everything, it’s like our relationship reset itself every time we saw each other. I followed after him, hot on his heels.

“Why do you keep doing this?” I asked, closing the door behind me.

“Doing what?” He took his leather jacket off and hung it up.

“You and I, we talk, we get more comfortable with each other. I think I am finally getting through that shell of yours only for you to make another one.”

Derek turned to face me, “I don’t owe you any explanation. I am fine by myself.”

“No, you’re not.” I came closer to him, my face mere inches from his, “You’re not fine by yourself. I saw how you looked tonight when Scott brought up the Argents. You were hurt, and scared, and angry. You can’t just sit here in this house and pour yourself into finding this alpha, you’re going to kill yourself. You almost died today.”

“He killed my sister! He is killing people and now Kate Argent is back and she doesn’t follow the Code. She will do anything, no matter how awful it is, to murder my kind. She’s the reason my family is gone!” He barked back. I took a deep breath.

“I know you want justice for Laura. I do too. But you can’t do that if you’re dead. Is that what she would want? Her little brother dead trying to get revenge?” Derek avoided my gaze, looking through me more than at me.

“Derek.” I said softly, slowly bringing my hand up to his cheek. He inhaled sharply, becoming stiff under my touch.

I stood on my tiptoes to press my forehead against his and whispered, “This is selfish to say… but I can’t lose you too. I-I thought you were dead. You have to be more careful. Please.” His body became less rigid and he let out a shaky breath. He slowly brought his hand to my waist, the other sliding over my hand that rested on his cheek. In that moment, it felt like the whole universe stopped. It was only me and him. It was like our minds finally connected and our souls touched. There was silence, only the wind blowing softly through the trees. 

“I can’t do this.” He whispered, closing his eyes. 

“You can.” I laced my fingers with his against his cheek, “We can do it together.” 

“I can’t let myself.” He opened his eyes again to meet mine, “When I’m with you I lose focus, you’re all I can think about. I get distracted from what I need to do. So I ignore you, treat us like it's nothing because I can’t open myself up again. Not after… not after what happened.” He was opening up, if not all the way, just a little. Derek had a good point. Finding the alpha and killing him was the only way to get justice for Laura. And if I was distracting him, maybe I should keep my distance. He clearly has been hurt terribly by someone, and hearing him bare his soul made me think about how to make it better. But what was I to do? My demons were killed, Derek deserved to destroy his own. 

“Do you want me to go away?” My words were barely a whisper. 

He licked his lips, “If I was allowed to be selfish, I would never let you go.” I took a deep breath, dreading the fact that I had to leave him. 

“Okay.” I smiled, trying to ignore my burning tear ducts, “I’ll go home. And… I won’t come back unless you want me to.” I reluctantly slipped my hand out of his. But, I need one selfish thing if I was ever going to live with this. I leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. I pulled away, feeling his hand fall from my waist. I kept my eyes on the floor as I walked out of the Hale house, got into my car and drove away. 

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

Read part 6 here!

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[buckyskorpion]

Do Something Bad, Too - Part 5

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

Summary: It’s like every single Alpha on the planet won’t rest until they’ve confessed their eternal wish for you to mother their children, and it’s getting old. Luckily, that’s a problem Bucky might be able to fix.

Warnings: language, a/b/o dynamics, mentions of violence

A/N: sooooo..... lets not mention the last time i updated this fic was four years, and get excited that im finally updating!! woo!! i really hope this was worth the wait, im very anxious about letting you guys down. let me know what you honestly think! love u all, thank u for sticking with me

series masterlist | main masterlist | my ko-fi

You stay in Nat’s apartment in the Tower for the rest of your heat, which lasts an entire week. Nat comes and goes throughout that time to make sure you’re drinking enough water, to make you dinner or run you a bath, or sometimes just to keep you company when you’re capable of that. She doesn’t stay long, though, aware her presence just makes the unbearableness of going through heat even worse. She also doesn’t mention Bucky’s clothes or anything about that first day, which you’re immeasurably grateful for. You don’t think you could talk about it without crying.

To say you’re humiliated is an understatement. Mixed with that is all this guilt and shame and self-hatred for inflicting that situation on you and Bucky. Mostly for Bucky. He had made it so very clear he was only comfortable helping you with the scent thing, and even with that there were boundaries. You had blown through them all by showing up to his apartment, triggering both your instincts to do things you couldn’t control, and now he probably resented you enough to never want to see you again.

You don’t blame him. It doesn’t stop it from hurting so much, though.

You’ve well and truly fucked yourself now. Not only is it omega instincts driving you towards Bucky now, but also your own stupid, naive heart. You miss his giant hands and broad shoulders that block out the world for a second, narrowing your scope to just the two of you. You miss the way you can breathe around him, how the world doesn’t feel so scary and foreign to you when he’s by your side. It’s crazy because you weren’t even close, you weren’t even really friends, but now you never will be because you’re so goddamn stupid it’s actually astounding.

Nat’s plan had not worked. And this time, you couldn’t even blame her for this colossal backfire. This is all your handiwork.

You’re back in your office, returning to work once your fever died down and you could stand to be in the vicinity of other alphas without passing out. Maybe you’re tapping rather aggressively on your keyboard, and maybe all the techies on the floor can hear you sigh and groan in frustration every two seconds and are sending you strange looks through the glass. Whatever, you’re their boss, they can’t say anything. Besides, your boss has requested some rather strange security upgrades and you’re not sure if it’s within your job description to email Tony Stark and say what the fuck?

It turns out you don’t have to, because Tony Stark comes to you. It’s not often he takes part in the day to day workings of Stark Industries - that’s your job, after all. But he comes striding into your office eating an apple and wearing sunglasses during the middle of the day, and points a ringed finger at you.

“You’re back,” he says, and you find yourself glancing down at your baby-blue pantsuit just to make sure you are, in fact, back. Stark takes a very pointed breath through his nose and adds, “You smell terrible. This is great!”

“Great?” You can’t help but sound bitter. Your smell is hardly great to you. Even after sweating out your entire body-weight and taking more showers than is considered healthy, you still smell like Bucky. You can’t escape him - not your thoughts, not your heart, and certainly not the way your skin seems to emanate him like he’s crawled underneath and set up shop. It’s embarrassing and humiliating, because it’s not real, and just serves to remind you of the terrible mistake you’ve made. You hope beyond hope Stark doesn’t recognise the other alpha scent clinging to your pores.

“Yes, great. I need your help,” he says, sitting down in a chair opposite your desk. You glance at the specs you have open on your computer, the strange security upgrades he wants you to make to the Tower, and then back to Stark’s million-dollar smile. It’s unsettling. You feel a headache forming before he even opens his mouth.

“If this has anything to do with these emails-“

“Those can wait,” Stark says, waving a dismissive hand at your computer. He lobs his applecore into the bin beside your desk as if to punctuate his point, then says, “This is a request on behalf of the Avengers.”

“Um,” you say, rather eloquently. Avengers? What on earth could they want with you, unless- you groan, rolling your eyes to the ceiling. “Natasha.”

“She highly recommended your expertise,” Stark says, and that headache brewing in your temples blooms into a full-blown migraine. He stands, smooths out his slacks, and says without room for question, “Follow me.”

This is how you end up back in the residential floors of the Tower, much to your chagrin, which Stark seems to pick up on. The closer you get to Bucky’s floor the more fidgety you become, heart racing and skin turning clammy until you watch the numbers fly by and you leave him somewhere in the clouds above Manhattan. The elevator doors ding open to a floor that seems to go on forever, full of gym equipment and fancy simulation tech you figure the Avengers must use to train. You find Natasha’s red head on the sparring mats, tackling someone to the ground with her thighs, and glare daggers as you follow Stark into the room.

“She’s alive!” Natasha calls across the room, ignoring your death glare for a knowing smirk. Her voice echoes through the warehouse-style gym floor, drawing the attention of the others in the room. The Avengers, and all of a sudden you feel like an eighteen year old kid watching aliens attack New York on a grainy satellite TV in the desert again. This is like meeting celebrities on another level. Steve Rogers finishes wrapping his hands as he walks over to you and Stark, Sam Wilson beside him, and Natasha gives Clint Barton a hand to help him up from the mats.

“What have you roped me into now, Nat?” you ask, not bothering to hide your frustration. You’ve just about had it with her meddling, but you should’ve known it was a pipe dream to think she would stop.

“We know you’re very busy, we won’t take up much of your time,” Steve Rogers says, extending a hand and introducing himself like he needs to. Captain America needs no introduction.

“I know who you all are,” you say, giving them a nod. “And you’re right, I am busy. So why am I here?”

“You and Nat must get along like a house on fire,” Clint says, earning him an elbow in the gut from Nat herself. You grin, all sharp in the way Nat tells you looks scary in a hot way, and watch as he subtly shifts behind Nat as if to hide behind her smaller frame. It’s only then that you register the scents mingling between them, and realise that Clint Barton is Nat’s omega. She grins at you, beatific and serene, as if she can read your thoughts and knows exactly what you’ve just figured out.

“Let’s not hold (Y/n) up any longer,” Nat says, grinning in a way that always spells trouble for you. “She’s a woman in high demand.”

Stark leads them to what seems to be a large empty space in the training facility, but it’s soon filled with hologram projections from a tiny Starkpad he pulls from his pocket. You fall into step beside Nat, using your height advantage to glare down at her and convey the level to which you want to strangle her right now. She just loops her arm with yours and kisses you on the cheek, frustrating your attempts at intimidation before you can even begin. Bloody Russian spies, you grumble to yourself as you come a halt in front of the holograms.

You’re looking at building specs, that much is obvious. Why, though, is entirely lost on you. The structure is a tall hexagonal building reminding you of a panopticon, with security floors in the centre and what seem to be prison cells surrounding them. Details jump out from Stark’s hologram - security cameras, miniature guards patrolling the floors, thermally sealed doors and electromagnetic force-fields on the cells. It’s a prison, you surmise, and you’re starting to get a bad feeling as to why you’re here.

You turn to Nat and say, “I’m not going back in the field.”

She pats your arm with only a tiny bit of condescension and says, “I’m not asking you to.”

“You’re my Head of Security,” Stark says, then gestures to the hologram building, “If you can design impenetrable security systems, surely you can undo them.”

“You want me to help you break into this place?” you ask. The team all nod, and you look back at the intimidating, virtual-blue building in front of you. “It’s a fortress.”

“Yeah, they really upped the anti on security since I was in there,” Sam Wilson says, earning him a reproachful look from Steve. It does nothing to soothe the anxiety starting to thread through your chest. Failing the Avengers doesn’t seem like an option, but from where you’re standing, neither is breaking into this facility.

“I’ll need to know what it is first,” you say, “Then I can try and help you. Emphasis on try. I’m not a miracle worker.”

“It’s called the Raft,” Steve says, his face growing stony and set as he talks. “It’s a prison designed for enhanced persons by Secretary Ross. After Germany, I broke Sam, Scott, and Clint out. But Wanda-“

“We need to get her out of there,” Clint says. You pretend not to notice as beside you Nat discreetly takes his hand, rubbing her thumb across his bruised knuckles.

“Leave the search and rescue to us,” Stark says, and you watch him shift uncomfortably under some inscrutable looks Steve and Sam are giving him, “We just need your help on how to get into the joint.”

“Simple,” you breathe, but only Nat laughs. This seems like an impossible task, but from the look of  everyone around you, failure isn’t an option. You’re going to have to make the impossible possible. It’s a good thing you’ve had some experience with that - in the military, trapped into sand-filled corners with no foreseeable way out, it really did seem like you were working miracles to stay alive out there. You swallow past a dry mouth and blink through desert-gunked eyes, say, “I’ll need that Starkpad, and some time.”

“You have forty-eight hours,” Stark says. The hologram disappears in a blink as he throws the Starkpad, no bigger than your palm, which you only just manage to catch. Stark clicks his fingers, as if an idea as just occurred to him, and says, “Oh, I almost forget to tell you! The Raft is underwater. Completely submerged, middle of the ocean, super top-secret. Fun, right?”

Your heart drops to your stomach. Fun is not the word you you would use. Only forty-eight hours to break into the most secure facility in the country, if not the world? This day couldn’t possibly blindside you anymore.

As if the universe is conspiring against you, FRIDAY’s voice chimes in from overhead speakers to say, “Mr Stark, Sergeant Barnes is on his way to the gym floor.”

You feel your whole body lock up, heart seizing in your chest - Bucky? Here? You weren’t prepared to see him yet, or speak to him. What would you say? How could you apologise for one of the worst crimes you may have ever committed, and you’ve killed people? Natasha unloops her arm from yours, tries to soothe you with a hand on your back but it does nothing for the anxiety shooting sparks throughout your blood stream.

“How many times have I got to tell that illiterate Soviet popsicle, he’s not on the fucking team,” Stark grumbles, storming towards the elevators with a scowl. Steve clenches his fists, glaring after Stark but Sam holds him back. He mutters something only Steve can hear which makes him close his eyes and exhale sharp through his nose - frustrated, but calming by the nanosecond.

It’s a shame nobody thought to do the same for you.

“What did you just call him?” you say, ignoring Natasha’s warning murmur of your name as you follow after Stark. Maybe you still have some residually elevated hormones from your heat, or you really are just a lovesick idiot who can’t control her temper, but whatever it is has you absolutely incensed. Stark stops dead, clearly caught off guard by the venom in your voice, and spins on his heel to stare at you incredulously.

“Excuse me?” he says, blinking owlishly at you as you lean up into his space. You’re aware you’re overstepping the boss/employee line, but you can’t help yourself. The rage is brewing, and with each laboured breath Bucky’s scent grows stronger and stronger until it’s all you can smell. It settles over your skin like armour, and the urge to protect that hold on you, to protect him, is beyond your control - it’s primal.

“Don’t talk about him like that, ever,” you snarl, watching with satisfaction as Stark’s eyes turn round and wide.

He glances behind you towards his friends and says, “Are we sure she isn’t an alpha? Sheesh.”

“Tony,” Natasha warns, but it’s too late. You use the palm of your hand to slam into Stark’s solar plexus. You kick out his kneecap and he drops on one knee, wheezing and gasping for air. It all happens so fast you can’t even think about the repercussions of assaulting your boss, let alone what’s driven you to do it in the first place.

“I don’t need to be an alpha to kick your ass,” you hiss, glaring down at Stark who looks up at you like you have, in fact, lost your mind.

At that moment, the elevator dings and reveals Bucky practically seething behind the elevator doors. He storms in, larger than life - in the week or so it’s been since you’ve seen him, you’ve somehow forgotten how physically intimidating he actually is. You immediately step back from Stark’s kneeling figure, feeling the strange need to hide your hands behind your back like a kid caught with the cookie jar. Bucky glances wildly between you, Stark on the ground, and the ring of Avengers in different states of attempting to intervene. He heaves ragged breaths and is emitting a scent that threatens to take you to your knees, too. Authoritative, powerful, protective.

That submissive, animalistic side of you makes you really hate being an omega sometimes.

“Why is she here?” Bucky asks someone behind you, probably Natasha. He swings his, frankly, frightening gaze to Stark and demands with just as much venom as you had, “What did you do to her.”

“Jesus Christ, nothing!” Stark wheezes, clutching at the spot on his chest you’ve definitely bruised. He points an accusing finger at you and cries, “She hit me!”

“I’m so sorry,” you say, feeling your hands start to shake where you clutch them behind your back. You look to Bucky like maybe he can explain, which makes you sick to your stomach because he’s not yours to look towards. Now, more than ever, that is abundantly clear. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do!” Natasha pipes up behind you, helpful as ever. Bucky glares at her for you this time, releasing you of his burning-hot stare. His gaze has the power to paralyse you, and you need to get away from him, this, all of it - right now. You don’t get a chance to, however, before Natasha once again sticks her foot in it and says, “She was defending your honour, James.”

“Yeah, and I’ve no idea why. One quick google search should tell you he doesn’t need any-“

It takes you a second to realise the snarling, growling sound echoing through the gym is coming from you. Your face burns as you roll your lips together, cutting the sound off completely. For your entire life you’ve been headstrong and confident, but this whole experience with Bucky from the very first day you met him has shaken your entire self-perception. Everything you’ve known has been turned upside down - it was easy when all alphas were assholes, and you were one omega they couldn’t fuck with. Now, you stare down at your shoes and refuse to look in Bucky’s direction because he’s affected you so much you can’t even control yourself anymore. The worst part is that it’s entirely your own doing, because Bucky made it very clear you aren’t the one he wants, so everything you’re doing right now is just incredibly humiliating.

“(Y/n)?” Bucky’s voice makes you shudder. Looking at him would surely make you burst into flames, from embarrassment of the last time you saw him which you can’t even think about, or from the shame of pathetically defending a man who doesn’t want anything to do with you. He doesn’t even want you here, storming up to ask why you’re in his home in the first place.

“I’m gonna go,” you say, giving Bucky a wide berth as you head for the elevators. You can’t get there fast enough, practically sprinting to press the close-door button as fast as you can.

“Wait-“

And then, the absolute worst thing happens. You almost crush the Starkpad still in your hand from clenching your fist so hard - you have to, in order to keep your hands by your sides and not in Bucky’s personal space. Because just as the doors are about to slide closed, he slips in between them and FRIDAY seals you both in. The elevator fills with Bucky Bucky Bucky, just like your heat-addled brain has been chanting at you since you stumbled into his apartment a week ago.

Bucky stares at you wide-eyed, and you stare back just the same. This could possibly be your worst nightmare come to life, especially when the elevator screeches to a halt and FRIDAY’s dulcet tones hammer your fate home.

“I appear to be having some technical difficulties,” FRIDAY says, sounding confused if an AI can sound like anything. “I’m so sorry, I’m trying to fix this. It seems someone is manually overriding my control of the elevator.”

“Nat,” you groan, in unison with Bucky. So that’s it. You’re stuck in an elevator with Bucky and are being forced to face the music, by the powers that be. The powers being Natasha, a no good meddler who is going to be in a world of pain when you get out of here. Alpha be damned.

#dsbt #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader fic #bucky x reader fic #avengers fic #marvel fic #a/b/o #a/b/o fic #a/b/o dynamics #alpha!bucky #omega!reader #reader insert fic #pov #pov fic #a/b/o au #bucky barnes #sam wilson #natasha romanoff #tony stark #steve rogers #clint barton #yoooo

[derrickcodes]

Did you know? Pokémon Snap Programming

Did you know they used some pretty awesome techniques to code Pokémon Snap?

I absolutely loved playing Pokémon Snap for the Nintendo 64 when I was a kid. Whether it was trying to get the best score or just see how many Pokémon I can whack with an apple, I sunk way too many hours into it. Fast forward to 2021, we've got a new game coming out, and the first thing I thought when playing was "How did they program this?" Computer vision is definitely capable of pretty amazing things, but I kind of doubt the developers made a huge machine learning model to search for so many different Pokémon, recognize what pose they're in, recognize other Pokémon in the frame, etc. And even if that were the case, there's zero chance that's how they did it back in 1999. There has to be an easier way... but how?

Disclaimer: I didn't develop either the old Pokémon Snap or the new one, so I clearly don't know the exact techniques they used. However, I think I've got a pretty good theory as to how they did it. Give it a read and let me know if you agree or think I'm wildly off base.

So there are a few questions we need to answer here:

How are the Pokémon programmatically represented?

How does the Professor know which Pokémon are in the picture?

How are the other criteria (size, pose, direction, position) determined?

With those questions listed, I think we can get a pretty good idea of how the game [probably] works.

How are the Pokémon programmatically represented?

So we know this game is a 3D game, so clearly the Pokémon needs to know its position in this 3D space. I assume it also has variables for what direction it's currently facing, as well as what "state" it's in. I'm guessing each Pokémon has a list of states that correspond to different poses and a state machine for when to transition between the states (e.g. In "Idle" state, player hits it with apple, enters "Shocked" state). This doesn't sound all that impressive, but it's how I think these variables are used that get interesting.

How does the Professor know which Pokémon are in the picture?

I believe that when you take a photo, the game first takes a screenshot (which should just be as simple as reading the frame buffer and dumping it to an image), then determines the score of your picture right then and there. You heard me right; the game already knows how terrible your picture is the second you take it; the Professor is just the messenger. And how does it do this? Ray casting.

Ray casting is essentially where the game "casts" a line from the player straight out into the horizon and computes if it hits an object in its path. So in the picture above, you draw a line from the player's eye and the computation can determine that there's a circle blocking a few of those lines. I believe this is the exact same technique used in Pokémon Snap. The game draws a number of lines from the camera and checks if any of them hit any Pokémon. And if it knows which Pokémon it hit, it can know all of those variables pertaining to that Pokémon, including its pose, direction, etc. It should also know if it hit any other Pokémon in the same shot, so that's how that "Other Pokémon" category is calculated.

How are the other criteria (pose, size, direction, position) determined?

Once we know what Pokémon are in the picture, we can start reading through its variables. Pose can be read from the Pokémon's state, then have some lookup table for how many points that state is worth. Size can be determined by how far along the ray the Pokémon is - the closer along the ray means a larger Pokémon. Direction can be calculated as the difference between the player's direction and the Pokémon's direction - it's directly facing the Player if the Pokémon's direction differs 180° from the player, and any distance from 180° can be subtracted from the maximum points. Position can be determined by the Pokémon's position in the 3D space minus where the centermost ray "intersects" with the plane the Pokémon is on - the Pokémon is in the center of the photo if the Pokémon is 0 distance units from the centermost ray, and any distance can be subtracted from the maximum points.

And there you have it! I found a comment on a Reddit thread about someone who developed their own Pokémon Snap inspired game and they used the exact techniques I've described here, so I hope there's some merit to them. What do you think? Do you think I nailed it or do you think they secretly had super advanced computer vision algorithms back in the 90s?

Sources: Reddit Comment

Images: Pokemon Snap Cover Ray Casting Diagram

#Did You Know #computer science #mathematics #pokemon #pokemon snap

[supernatural-jackles]

Isolation

Title: Isolation

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 5,224

Warnings: Smidge of Angst, Bit of Pining, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Terrible pickup lines (Thank you Austin Powers), Touch Starvation, More Fluff! Implied Sexy Time. Comfort Fic!!

Summary: When the croatoan virus takes over half the country, you haul ass to the bunker where your two best friends are to keep you safe. Only, one of them you have had feelings for and the other keeps encouraging you to tell him. 

Square Filled: The Bunker ( @spndeanbingo​) Cuddling ( @spnfluffbingo​)

A/N: This one is for Help You Anon, who needs this the most.  I also absolutely loveeee how this one turned out! I hope y’all do too!! Happy Reading!

Your heart was beating a mile a minute as you raced down the empty open roads of Lebanon Kansas. You were mere minutes away from your destination and you couldn’t have been any happier. You didn’t want to be out in the open anymore. You didn’t want to run the infinitely large risk that came with it.

 You were a hunter and had been since you were old enough to hold a knife. Not that you were allowed in that sense. You came from a long line of hunters. Your dad, his parents before that. It was the Family Business as he told you. Killing evil sons of bitches was the day job, and at times like this, it came with it’s perks. Those perks being the only friends you had.

 Sam and Dean Winchester.

 You and the Winchester’s went way back. Hell, you’ve known them since you were a kid. They were the only two that you could be completely honest with. They knew the life, just like you did. It also helped that you were in the middle of the two of them. Two years younger than Dean and two years older than Sammy. You fit right in with the two of them. You always had.

 You pulled up to the bunker, a place you had been a hundred times. Dean had the garage open for you to park your car inside. You didn’t want to leave it out in the open and attract the wrong kind of people.

 Dean was waiting for you in the garage, leaning against the front of his car with his arms crossed over his body. You smiled at the sight of him. He was in single layers. A dark green henley to be exact, and a pair of jeans with a rip in the knee. His usual hunting boots on and a soft smile playing on his pink plump lips. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him.

 You put your car in park before cutting the ignition. You kicked the car door open quickly, moving over to him to engulf him in your arms. The smell of his cologne mixed with whiskey filled your nose. A smell you had come to associate with the older Winchester. God, it was good to see him.

 “Hi sweetheart,” he beamed, squeezing you once more before releasing you.

 “Thank you for letting me stay,” you smiled.

 “Thanks for keeping us informed,” he breathed out. “You know you’re more than welcome here.”

 “I like to call first,” you winked. “Any idea how this could’ve happened?”

 “Sam’s looking into it,” he started. “Is it everywhere?”

 “Yeah pretty much. I passed one car on my way here from Sioux Falls, Dean. Everywhere is a ghost town. It’s kind of scary actually! I didn’t want to be alone,” you admitted. “Not out there.”

 “Well, your room is exactly the way you left it. We’ve got enough supplies to last us,” he assured you. “C’mon, let’s get you inside.”

 Dean helped you carry your bag in from the trunk into the bunker. You protested a little of course, but it was useless when it came to Dean. You followed behind him, shutting the garage door behind you. He led you inside, heading to the library where he knew his brother would be. You brushed the stray piece of hair behind your ear as you got closer to the library. The sight of Sam sitting in his chair made you smile.

 “Hiya Sammy,” you called out. He pulled his attention away from his computer, a wide smile appearing on his features. He got up quickly, rounding the table. You met him halfway, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, squeezing him tightly.

 “You look amazing, darlin’,” he told you as his arms snaked around your waist. “It’s been too long.”

 “It has,” you agreed. “Lucky for you, you’re stuck with me for awhile.”

 “As long as you’re making those cookies,” he chuckled, releasing you from his hold. He had the softest smile playing on his lips, making you feel right at home.

 “You got it,” you nodded. “I’ll even make Dean my special apple pie.”

 “I knew I said you could stay for a reason,” he let out a laugh. “C’mon sweetheart, let’s get you settled in.”

 You followed Dean through the halls of the bunker, heading straight to the room they had for you. It was right next to Dean’s. You had picked it when they let you stay the first time. You wanted to be close to Dean because you felt safer when he was in close proximity. He had always protected you and made you feel safe. Ever since you were little, it had been that way.

 “Here we are,” he stopped. Door number twelve. You could see your reflection in the two shiny, gold numbers. You gave Dean a warm smile, reaching for the door handle. You stepped inside first, flicking on the light. The room was exactly the way you left it. Even the papers on the desk. It was your space.

 “Thanks for carrying my bag in,” you smiled at him.

 “It’s no problem,” he said, placing your bag down on the bed. “You want to get changed into something comfortable? I’ll grab you a beer and make some popcorn. We can watch a movie?”

 “I’d love to,” you nodded.

 “Good,” he half smiled, turning away to head out of your room.

 “Hey De,” you called out.

 “Yeah sweetheart?”

 “You look good,” you smiled, turning away from him to hide the heat that was rushing to your cheeks.

 “Says you, Y/N,” he told you, slipping out of your room quietly.

 You couldn’t contain your smile as he shut the door behind him. You had always had a thing for Dean Winchester. Ever since you were a kid. He was cute, of course. But it was his protective nature that really reeled you in. The way he kept you safe. The way he made you laugh, and the way he was with you. He was one of the good ones. Only he saw you as his little sister, and not as anything else. You knew that, and you accepted it a long time ago. The flirty banter between the two of you was just a habit. It was the two of you being comfortable with one another. Just like it was when you played with Sam’s hair during down time.

 You pulled out your favourite pair of sweatpants, and an oversized shirt you were sure you stole from Dean years ago. It was something comfortable. You threw your hair up in a messy bun before changing. You couldn’t wait to be hidden in the bunker with your two favourite people.

 You slipped out of your room, making your way through the halls once more. The smell of popcorn filled your nose instantly. You were so ready for a movie night with the Winchester’s. You were back in the library, looking over at Sam still glancing at his computer.

 “Hey,” you greeted him, walking over to the table. You took a seat on the table, your feet on the chair next to him.

 “How are you holdin’ up?” he asked, glancing up at you as he leaned back.

 “I’m calming down now that I’m here,” you answered. “Thanks for asking.”

 “You looked a little overwhelmed when you got here,” he pointed out. “Not that I blame you. It’s everywhere. I just got off the phone with Garth. He said his town is the same. Croatoan virus.”

 “What caused this, Sammy?” you questioned, swallowing hard as you looked down.

 “I wish I knew,” he frowned. “Hell, it could be the angels stirring up trouble again.”

 “Maybe,” you shrugged.

 “Well, you’re safe now. The bunker is warded. You’ve got us,” he smiled. “You and Dean having a movie night?”

 “Yeah,” you giggled. “You joining us?”

 “Nah, not tonight,” he shook his head. “I’m going to go for a run on the treadmill. Clear my head.”

 “You okay?” you furrowed your brows.

 “Yeah,” he nodded, casting his head down. “Just - this whole thing is going to be more than we can handle. All those innocent people. Sometimes this job sucks, you know?”

 “I get that,” you breathed out, reaching your hand over to hold his. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.” You squeezed his hand.

 “You finally going to do something about your crush on Dean,” he changed the subject, giving you a sly smile.

 “No,” you chuckled. “Nice try though.”

 “Well, we are stuck in here for however long. I don’t want the sexual tension to get to be too much,” he joked, squeezing your hand.

 “Whatever,” you rolled your eyes playfully. “Since I’m here, can I braid your hair later?”

 “Sure,” he shook his head with a wide smile. “Go have fun with Dean. We’ll hang out tomorrow.”

 “Will do. You know where to find me if you need me,” you told him. You hopped off the table, circling around him. You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his cheek before taking off to the kitchen. You could see the look of defeat on his face. You hoped that a good run on the treadmill was going to help him.

 You skipped into the kitchen, the smell of the popcorn getting stronger. You saw Dean standing next to the stove with a huge bowl of popcorn next to him. A case of beer was set out, ready for your night to begin.

 “You ready?” you asked with a wide smile.

 “You know it,” he chuckled. “You want to grab the beer. I’ve got the snacks.” You nodded your head, stepping into the kitchen to grab the beer off the counter. Dean had the popcorn bowl in one hand and the chocolate and candy in the other.

 “Lead the way, handsome,” you smiled.

 He gave you a soft smile, walking out of the kitchen to head out. You watched the way his legs moved as he made his way to the Dean cave. He had changed into his comfortable sweats and kept his henley on. You loved it when he was comfortable for movie nights.

 You stepped onto the Dean cave, smiling at the sight before you. It had changed a lot since you were last in it. It still had the kegs and the foosball table. The old chairs were there, but there was now a bigger couch in there now. One with lots of room for you to get comfortable. Blankets were folded at one end. A big pile of them. There were actual pillows, and a coffee table.

 “Look at this place,” you smiled.

 “We changed a few things,” he smiled. “You should’ve seen Sam, Cas and I trying to get the couch in here.”

 “Oh god, that must have been hilarious,” you beamed, taking a seat on one side of the couch. “What do you feel like watching, Winchester?”

 “Uh, what about a classic? I was thinking Austin Powers,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

 “Shall we shag now, or shag later?” you let out a laugh. “You know I’m always for watching that.”

 “Alright,” he nodded, grabbing the remote off the table. The bowl of popcorn was set between you. The candy and chocolate next to it. You reached over, taking two beers out of the case. You opened one up for Dean, handing it over to him before opening your own. You took a good sip of it. You felt yourself calming down as the beer hit your empty stomach. You didn’t know how much you needed it until that first sip.

 The beginning of the movie was silent. You munched away at the popcorn. Your hands meeting the odd time, making you laugh a little. It was nice to just be able to sit there with him and enjoy a good movie.

 Eventually you got tired of the popcorn and it was moved to the table. Dean opened the peanut m&ms and moved a little closer to you. You couldn’t deny that your heart began to race when his thigh pressed to yours.

 “How was your last hunt?” He asked towards the end of the movie.

 “Good,” you shrugged. “Simple salt and burn. Nothing extensive. I welcome the easy ones these days.”

 “Yeah no kidding,” he chuckled. “When was this one?”

 “Yesterday actually. Before everything went all fucky. Sam thinks it has something to do with the angels.”

 “Me too,” he nodded. “Cas is MIA.”

 “Guess we gotta lay low until we know,” you said. “I could definitely do with more movie nights. It’s been awhile.”

 “It has,” he nodded. “You still hunting with what’s his name?”

 “Cory? And no,” you shook your head. “We uh - parted ways a few months back.”

 “Weren’t you two-“

 “Yeah, at one point,” you swallowed hard. “But it didn’t mean anything to him and he continued to screw other people. I couldn’t do it. We split and I’ve been on my own ever since.”

 “You’re hunting solo?” He asked, a hint of anger in his voice.

 “I’m being careful,” you stated.

 “Damnit, Y/N!”

 “I know,” you breathed out, suddenly finding the label on the bottle interesting. “Truth is, I haven’t been hunting that much. I’ve worked maybe four or five cases since we split. One was with Jody. You guys and the demon hunt. The others were salt and burns. I’m not really on a suicide mission. I know the job kills well enough. I’ve been taking breaks here and there. Working in bars. Hustling pool now and again. It’s been quiet.”

 “You could’ve stayed here, you know,” he pointed out.

 “I know,” you nodded. “But you also know that I need some space sometimes. Things with Cory - it didn’t feel right. There was so much trust built with us being hunters. Someone I could actually see myself sharing my life with. But he didn’t want to be tied down and I couldn’t trust him after finding that out. It just sucked to find out the person you were with wasn’t the person you thought they were.”

 “That why you want to stay with us?” He cocked his eyebrow. “Tired of running?”

 “Tired of being alone, Dean,” you admitted. This conversation was getting to be too much for you and you hadn’t had nearly enough to drink to continue it. You didn’t want pity and you didn’t want Dean to find out that you had a big ol’ crush on him either. Some things were better left hidden. This was one of them. “Anyway, I’m glad to be here to watch movies with you, Mr Bigglesworth.”

 “Cute,” he let out a laugh. “For the record, Cory’s an idiot.”

 “Yeah, he is. He’s not a Winchester,” you smiled.

 “No one is as stupid as us,” he joked, nudging you with his shoulder.

 “I wouldn’t say that,” you let out a laugh. “More like dumb.”

 “Yeah whatever,” he smirked. The end credits rolled up on the screen. Dean reached for the remote, turning the movie off. “You feel like watching the second one?”

 “Maybe tomorrow night,” you said as you yawned. “Today was a long day and I’m looking forward to sleeping in a bed that doesn’t have a puke coloured comforter.”

 “Alright, fair enough,” he nodded. “C’mon, I’ll walk you to your room.”

 You got up off the couch first, stretching your sore muscles before starting to walk to the doorway. Dean was right behind you, his hands on your shoulders as if he wasn’t going to be able to keep up somehow. It made you smile. Then again, a lot of things about Dean made you smile.

 You stopped at the number twelve on your door, turning to face Dean. He had a soft smile playing on his lips and his hands were now shoved in the pockets of his sweatpants. He looked a lot happier than you had seen him the last couple of months. His eyes were a little brighter and the bags under his eyes weren’t as bad as they had been. Unless that was the hallway lighting, but even then, it could only do so much.

 “Thanks, Dean,” you half smiled, looking up at him.

 “You know where to find me if you need me, okay?” he assured you, reaching his hand up to cup your cheek. The simple gesture made your heart soar. You didn’t want to give away the fact that it did.

 “Right next to mine,” you breathed out, nodding your head. He moved his hand away, and gave you a half smile before turning to walk back down the hall. There was a part of you that was screaming inside, begging him to come back and stay with you. You didn’t want him to stray too far, and you certainly didn’t want to be on your own again. Not after doing it for the last six months. But Dean was your friend. He wasn’t going to be what Cory was to you. He’s not a warm body to sleep next to, or someone you could have that life with. He was Dean Winchester.  “Hey Dean?”

 “Yeah?” he turned back to look at you. You took a few steps forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, engulfing him in a hug. He hugged you back instantly. His arms slipping around your waist, tugging you in close to him. You melted against him this time. There was no rush or pressure to get things moving. You got to enjoy the feeling of being in his arms, and that was exactly what you needed.

 “Night,” you smiled, releasing him from your arms. You knew if you didn’t then, you weren’t going to.

 “Night, sweetheart,” he whispered. You turned back to your room, opening the door without another word.

 You took a deep breath as soon as the door shut. The lingering feeling of Dean’s arms was still coursing through you. A feeling you never wanted to stop. It had been so long since you had that kind of affection. Sure, you hugged Sam earlier, but it wasn’t the same as it was from Dean.  You fit perfectly in Dean’s arms, it seemed.

 You tiptoed your way over to your bed, pulling the comforter back before slipping inside. The sheets were cold against your body at first. The room was a little colder than you were used to. It was that time of year, and it didn’t help that the bunker was underground.

 You glanced at your phone for the first time since you got to the bunker. The first thing you saw was a text from Cory. With the Croatoan virus going on, he was looking for a warm bed and someone to hide out with. He tried his hardest to try and reconnect with you when he was lonely. He was the reason why you were too. The reason why you were so touch starved and craved Dean all the more.

 You turned over, trying to make yourself more comfortable. The light from the hallway was beaming in the bottom vent. You let out a huff, trying to make yourself comfortable on your pillow. You could always get up and sneak into Dean’s room. Claim you had a nightmare and you didn’t want to be alone. That would at least get you in the door. The rest you could figure out. But at the same time, you didn’t want Dean to know about your feelings for him. You could sleep in Sam’s room with him. It wasn’t Dean though.

 You had to suck it up. It was either that, or you were going to run the risk of Dean finding out. You had a choice. You always had a choice. You swallowed hard, throwing the comforter off of you. Your feet hit the cold concrete floor, taking you out of the room and right to the next one.

 You could see that Dean’s light was on from the bottom of the door. You could hear him rummaging around in something, indicating he was still wide awake. You took a deep breath. You had to grow a pair. You couldn’t expect yourself to be happy if you weren’t going to do something to make you happy. You reached your hand up, knocking against the wood.

 The door opened slowly, revealing Dean in his same clothes and a confused look on his face. You gave him a weak smile, placing your hands together in front of you. You had to try and form the words you needed to get him to let you stay.

 “So - uh, turns out I’m not actually that tired,” you said sheepishly. He stepped to the side as a smile spread across his cheeks, opening the door up a little more for you to enter.

 “C’mon,” he nodded.

 You hesitantly walked inside his room, taking a seat at the bottom of his bed. He had one of his drawers open, and a few clothes on his desk. He was folding them up and putting them away. You recognized a lot of his shirts, hell you had worn a few of them.

 “You okay?” he asked you as he folded one of his t-shirts.

 “Yeah,” you breathed out. “Just - I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

 “Tired of being alone?” he questioned.

 “So tired of being alone,” you admitted. “Cory texted me earlier. Asking where I was. With this going on out there, he’s looking for a warm body to sleep next to. I’m not going back to that.”

 “I don’t blame you,” he nodded. “My bed’s always open. First night’s free.”

 “Shut up, Winchester,” you let out a laugh. “My room’s cold.”

 “Right, the heater is broken. I went out and bought one for my room. I forgot about that,” he said sheepishly.

 You moved up the bed, slipping beneath his covers. His room was at least ten degrees warmer than yours. He finished up folding his shirts and put them away as you made yourself comfortable in his bed. His felt softer than yours, and the pillows were nicer. You were definitely going to take advantage of his bed for the night.

 He flicked the light off, leaving the little lamp on before he climbed in the bed to join you. The bed shifted as he positioned himself comfortably. You turned your gaze to him, seeing the soft smile that played on his lips. You could feel his body heat radiating towards you. This was exactly what you needed.

 “Night sweetheart,” he muttered.

 “Night Dean.”

 You gently began to stir hours later. Warmth filled you, followed by the soft thumping sound beneath your head. Every so often, your head would rise and fall. You were pressed against something harder than you expected, but comfortable at the same time.

 Holy shit, you had fallen asleep cuddling Dean. Fuck!

 You smiled to yourself for a moment, actually allowing yourself to relish in the feeling. You were safe, and protected by Dean. He was holding you to him, letting you cuddle him. God, you had no idea how much you needed this kind of touch. The soft, sweet, worry free hold that you had been deprived from for so long. You missed this more than anything.

 “Hey Dean, Jody - shit sorry!” Dean stirred beneath you, effectively waking up to Sam’s voice. You shifted off him instantly, feeling your cheeks heating up at being caught by Sam, and probably by Dean too.

 “Mmmh?” Dean groaned.

 “Jody called and asked about what’s going on,” he informed the two of you. “I have to say, it’s about time you told him. I told you things would work out. You’ve only been flirting since you were kids.”

 “Told me what?” Dean asked gruffly, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes.

 “Sam,” you warned him.

 “I’ll be in the library,” he said sheepishly, leaving the room as fast as he entered it.

 “I’m going to go get some coffee on,” you told him, trying to sound as confident as you could. You didn’t want to make it seem like a big deal, even if Sam had just basically told Dean that you had feelings for him.

 You slipped out of the bedroom, making your way down the hall to the kitchen. Your stomach was growling, and you desperately needed a cup of coffee to wake you up. Sam already had a pot waiting for the two of you, which you were more than thankful for. You poured yours and another one for Dean when he finally made his way to join you.

 You took a seat at the table, taking your first sip of the liquid gold. You took a deep breath, letting the warm drink slide down your throat. Dean sauntered in with his same clothes on from last night. He flashed you a soft smile as he headed straight for his coffee.

 “What was Sam talking about this morning?” he asked as he sat down in front of you, his mug in his hand.

 “Nothing,” you shook your head. “I think he just thought we were together.”

 “Why would he think that?” he chuckled, bringing his mug up to his lips.

 “Because I slept in your bed last night,” you pointed out.

 “And you were cuddling with me,” he wiggled his eyebrows, earning a groan from your lips.

 “What I do in my sleep is not really me, Winchester,” you argued, hoping to ease your way out of this conversation unscaved.

 “Oh yeah?” he let out a laugh. “You know you cuddled me the whole night right? Twenty minutes after you climbed into my bed until this morning.”

 “You didn’t stop me,” you stated. Your heart felt like it was going to pound out of your chest. You had no idea where this was going to go. You didn’t want him to be mad or uncomfortable. Hell, it wasn’t the first time it had happened, but Sam just had to go and say something and now you were on trial.

 “You’re right,” he agreed. “I didn’t. I can see that you’re touch deprived, sweetheart. You’re one of the most affectionate people I know.  If cuddling me means you won’t fall back into bed with Cory or someone else, then I’m gonna do it.”

 “I’m okay, Dean. Really,” you lied.

 “Maybe so, but we all need someone sometime,” he half smiled.

 “Even you?”

 “Even me,” he swallowed hard. “You want some breakfast?”

 “Yeah, that’d be great,” you nodded.

 “Bacon and eggs?” he offered.

 “You know I’d never pass that up.”

 He got up from his seat, leaving his half drunk cup of coffee at the table with you. You watched his bowlegs take him over to the fridge, opening it up to grab what he needed to start breakfast. His words were still ringing in your head. He needed someone too. Maybe that was why he didn’t stop you, or protest. He didn’t seem to be that mad at what Sam said either.

 You got up from your spot at the table, bringing your coffee with you. You tiptoed your way around the counter. He had his back to you as he started making the bacon. You placed your mug on the island before hopping up on it. You watched as his back muscles moved beneath his shirt. You smiled to yourself. Maybe telling him wouldn’t be that bad. After all, he was Dean. You had known him for years. He was a hunter that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

 “Hey Dean,” you breathed out, trying to hide the smile playing on your lips.

 “Mmh?” he asked, still focused on the task at hand.

 “I kind of lied to you,” you started. “Sam said that this morning because he thought I finally told you how I feel about you.” He turned away from the bacon for this one. His brows were furrowed when he looked at you. He took a few steps towards you, placing his hands on either side of you.

 “Are you saying wha I think you’re saying?” he questioned. “You have feelings for me?”

 “I do,” you nodded, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “I always have. I feel safest when I’m with you. You make all the bad things seem insignificant. You make my heart race, and my palms sweaty.”

 “This isn’t one of those ‘if we die’ speeches is it?” he cocked his eyebrow.

 “No,” you shook your head. “This is one of those selfish, and probably incredibly stupid moments you and Sam can hold over my head.”

 “Not stupid,” he shook his head. “I always thought you had feelings for Sam.”

 “W-why?”

 “You kiss his cheek all the time. You braid and play with his hair every time you’re here. You usually text him,” he pointed out.

 “I didn’t want to kiss you on the cheek because I can barely tell you you look good without blushing. Your hair isn’t long enough for me to braid, but I have played with it when you were sleeping,” you told him. “I just don’t want to annoy you, you know?”

 “You’re never annoying me,” he assured you. “Especially when you need me.” His hand came up to your cheek, urging you to look up at him. You gave him a weak smile, meeting his gorgeous green eyes. He leaned into you, brushing his lips gingerly over yours. You smiled against him, kissing him back. You swore your heart skipped a beat. This was everything you wanted. Before you felt safe, now you felt like you were home. You felt like you had a sense of belonging. You were here with him and nothing else in the world mattered more than this moment. Not Cory. Not the Croatoan virus. Nothing but Dean.

 “Is something burning?” Sam’s voice called out.

 “Shit,” Dean muttered, turning away from you to the stove. The bacon was definitely going to be crispy, maybe a little too crispy. You let out a giggled, bringing your hand up to your lips, that were still tingling from the feeling of his.

 “Does this mean I get to sleep in your bed tonight?” you played.

 “Oh sweetheart, you get to do more than sleep in my bed tonight,” he told you.

 “Guess you like me back, huh?” you half teased. Honestly, you just wanted to hear him say that he did. You wanted to know that Dean Winchester had a crush on you too.

 “I’ve liked you since we were seven years old, Y/N,” he stated, turning back around to face you. He took a few steps to you, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You make me feel safe too.”

 “Good,” you nodded.

 “C’mere,” he smirked, reaching his hand to your chin. He pressed his lips to yours, smiling against you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, tugging him into you as you kissed him back. “Sorry it took croatoan to make me do this.”

 “Better now than never,” you giggled. “Shall we shag now or shag later?”

 “Do I make you horny baby?” he quoted with a wide grin.

 “Mmmh very,” you smirked. “Finish up breakfast and we can definitely go back to bed.”

 “Coming right up,” he winked.

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

Did you like it? What was your favourite part? Share your thoughts with me via reblog, reply or send me an ask! Your response is what keeps me going!! 

#spnfluffbingo #Dean x Reader #Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester One Shot #Dean Winchester Imagine #Dean Winchester x Reader #Dean Winchester Fanfiction #Dean Winchester Fanfic #Dean one shot #Dean Imagine #Dean fanfic #Dean Drabble #Dean Winchester Drabble #Supernatural #Supernatural One Shot #Supernatural Imagine #Supernatural Fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #Supernatural x Reader #SPN #SPN One Shot #SPN Imagine #SPN Fanfic #SPN Drabble #SPN Fanfiction #supernatural-jackles

[ineffablebooklover]

Oh goodness, I'm terrible at writing prompts, hmm......

Are you familiar with D&D/Pathfinder/tabletop RPG's in general? I'd love to see The Crows rolling up characters and playing a one-shot. I can't decide if I'd rather Kaz or Jesper be the GM. Both sound horribly great. 😆

Otherwise, in a very un-original but beloved AU, I'd love to see HP Drarry and Romione + SoC Kanej, Wesper, and Helnik in some kind of Coffee Shop setting (I owned my own shop for the better part of a decade, so I love those).

And Matthias always being alive, please, if you do either of these. ;)

And I don't care about fic length; whatever you feel inspired to do!

💜

The Crow Cafe Coffee Shop AU~ with the Crows, Ronmione, and Drarry

authors note: I got a bit carried away with the idea, and I added some plot. There’s going to be multiple parts to this (yay!) so I guess keep in tune!

Part 1. Kaz’s Crow Cafe

There is a cafe, down some streets in Downtown Ketterdam’s Stave, run by a boy and his friends. There, you can find stories, romance, and most importantly, a decent cup of coffee.

“Not for my coffee, you podge,” Kaz scoffed, slapping away Jesper’s offer of sugar with a glove-clad hand. “I’m just saying sugar prices are getting higher. We need to compensate for this fact.”

Kaz waited for questions, looking around the table. No one said anything. Kaz looked directly at Jesper, who sighed, taking back the sugar and dumping it in his own coffee.

“And how do you want us to do that?”

It was a chilly Saturday morning in early-September, and Kaz was giving his Saturday morning pre-opening briefing.

“Kaz, people come here for the low coffee prices. We can’t hike the prices really high,” Inej added. Jesper nodded, grabbing another packet of sugar.

Kaz sighed. “I know. I’m working on it. Just thought I’d let you two know.”

“Don't mind if I do,” Jesper cut in, pouring the sugar in his overly-caffeinated drink, “but shouldn’t good old Mr. Haskell be thinking about this instead of us?”

Kaz sipped his coffee, shrugging. “‘Old Mr. Haskell’, as you say Jesper, is old and inert.” Kaz sent a glance Inej’s way. “He won’t be doing much about it.”

Jesper just chugged his coffee, bouncing up and ready to start the day.

“Jesper, was it wise to take in that much sugar and caffeine?” Inej inquired as Jesper bounced around the shop.

“Probably, not,” Jesper grinned, flipping the sign to ‘Open’ as a few early-risers started to form a line in front of the Cafe.

A girl with tied back light brown hair entered the cafe first, a stack of textbooks and notebooks in her arms. She ordered a coffee and a pastry, and started working at a table.

She was followed by a tall, burly, blond male who Kaz was sure he’d seen before. Trailing him was Nina, a girl Kaz knew from previous jobs he had done with her to help keep up the profits. Next to the composed blond dude, Nina looked dead tired.

“Why do we even have to get up this early?” Nina whined.

“I have to do things later today and Sunday, this is a good time to work on the project,” the blond replied.

Nina groaned. “Good for you. I was going to get my beauty sleep.”

“Well you get to have a beautiful coffee instead,” Jesper said cheerfully. “Good morning, Nina! What will it be for you and your…” Jesper looked the blonde up and down. “...this hunk of a man, here?”

Nina smirked tiredly. “Yeah, that’s my hunk of a man to you,” she pointed a lazy finger at Jesper.

The blond huffed. “So impudent and improper. My name is Matthias. I will have a black coffee.”

Jesper typed it into his screen quickly. “And no cream, no sugar, nothing sweet?”

Matthias shook his head.

“Anyways, I’ll have a mocha, like 10 shots of coffee and lots of creamer,” Nina cut in.

Jespers slender fingers flew across the board. “Okay so that’s one coffee as bitter as Kaz’s soul, and a mocha with 4 shots of espresso and half of it basically milk. Is that all for today?”

Nina scanned the pastry rack and ordered two chocolate chip muffins. The two sat down, getting stuff out for a project.

Meanwhile, Inej bounced around in her athletic wear, preparing coffees. She finished one for the girl named Hermione, grabbed the apple strudel she wanted, and headed over.

“Hermione?”

Hermione turned, and greeted Inej with a smile. “Thank you. I’ll take those.”

Inej noticed the bigger table Hermione had chosen, and tilted her head. “Are you waiting for someone?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, my friends. They’re supposed to be here in about an hour, I’m just catching up on studying before they come. Is that alright with…” Hermione stared into the distance, where Kaz stood ominously staring at Inej.

“Oh he… he’s alright.,” Inej lifted a hand to wave at Kaz, who noticed and looked away. “That’s Kaz for you,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Pardon?” Hermione asked.

Inej just laughed nervously, brushing it off. “Enjoy your breakfast!” Inej went back to making coffee behind the counter watching Jesper chat up customers left and right. Inej was glad for his enthusiasm so early in the morning, she never liked taking Saturday morning shifts at 6AM, especially if they had meetings at 5:45.

“How’s it going Jesper?” Inej asked while preparing another cup. Jesper nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Holy- oh Inej. Oh Inej don’t sneak up on me like that. Besides that, I’m doing fine!”

Inej nodded and disappeared behind towers of cups and spouts of coffee. She prepared Nina’s things and brought it over. The two seemed to be arguing.

“I’m just saying- ooh, food!” Nina gasped, sitting up straight for the first time that morning. Inej smiled, placing the coffee and muffins down on the table. Matthias just watched her, arms crossed.

“Enjoy the food,” Inej smiled, then went back to the counter.

Kaz watched her silently from the side, then, noticing the line, straightened his gloves and walked over to help make coffee. They went through orders silently, Inej doing all of the walking, but they enjoyed each other's company. Inej and Kaz would work on an order or two, Kaz would place his finished ones on a counter for Inej to take. While Inej was gone, Kaz would get started on the next thing, and so on.

Eventually, Kaz went into the back and disappeared for a while, leaving Inej with the coffee work.

By this time, Hermione’s friends had come, and their study group looked like they were having a great time, though only ⅓ of them seemed to actually be doing any studying.

By 8, Inej and Jesper switched spots. Inej found that Jesper still loved people-watching, even behind the counter. Or... was he looking for someone?

Her suspicions were correct when a boy walked in, with ruddy, orange-brown curls. Jesper leaned into her, pointing him out. “I think he’s starting to be a consistent customer. At least on weekends. Have you seen him around school?”

Inej had in fact seen him around school. His name was Wylan and he was in Kaz’s math class, and in her Art and Gym class. During lunch, he was usually just drawing something or doing math homework by himself.

Inej nodded, then went back to a customer, leaving Jesper to speculate by himself.

When the boy with golden-brown curls stepped up, she asked what he wanted.

He looked up at the board for less than a second, then back to Inej. “I’ll have an iced coffee. With the cream.” Inej nodded and punched it into the computer.

“Your name?” She asked.

“Wylan,” Wylan smiled. Inej pretended to punch it in as if she hadn’t already.

“And… if you want, the Crow Cafe is thinking of starting a sort of rewards club for regular members. There’s more info up on the board, but all we need is your number,” Inej added effortlessly.

Wylan looked up at the board and back to Inej. “Uh… sure,” he said tentatively. He gave her his number and she pretended to type it in, instead writing it down on a piece of paper after he left the counter. She then looked up at the board to confirm her suspicions. There was nothing about a rewards club. So he can’t read, and yet he still pretends…

She tucked that information away, smirking as she slid the paper into Jesper’s back pocket.

Everything was going pretty smoothly (besides Nina and Matthias’ constant bickering) until the door opened and in walked the most pretentiously blond man Inej and seen, with an even blonder son.

_end of part 1_ thanks for reading, and for the commission!

next commission: Sleeping Beauty AU :)

#ibl writing commissions #six of crows #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kanej #nina zenik #matthias helvar #helnik #jesper fahey #wylan van sunshine #wylan van eck #wesper #coffee shop au #hermione granger #Ron Weasley #draco malfoy #harry potter #ronmione #drarry #writing commissions #kaz brekker runs this coffee shop so no hate here or else

[olde-scratch]

So I watched LUCIDS 1-4 without any prior knowledge...

and here were my thoughts. I didn’t watch any backstory or anything so enjoy my suffering.

PART 1

“So what happens when the people inside of their dreams go to sleep?” They die

“What happens when we wake up? Do they go on living while we’re not there?” THEY DIE-

“Who are they anyway?” they’re faces that our brain catalogs and stores for later use, although it’s also arguable that every time we dream we go to an alternate reality and inhabit the body of another version of ourselves. Now, were you in a car accident and trapped underwater or-

Are they twins?

(Me tuning out to do something)

“-the squirrel in spongebob was your soulmate, making you a Sandy simp-”

Me, snapping back to the video: hold up-

[missed the part about the worksheet, realized it when i rewatched 10 mins later to make this post]

yall speakin gibberish idk what youre saying-

“I’m gonna go to bed.” bro it literally looks like morning-

“You should get some sleep you look terrible.” i get six hours of sleep a night minimum and i look worse than him shut up bro-

“jump into someone else’s dream” ah i know this con-

why they all got the same face-

haha funni meme

“--an interruptiion can create feedback and tear them apart.” Death. I long for thee.

Is that Karl Jacob’s jacket?

“a second grader” makes me think this is a different school system. [i was wrong? i think?]

“[get him to] eat your apple”

[in the dream sequence] weird dream, but ive had weirder. now, Why Pamper’s-

why does he suddenly have a knife-

“You put a filter on the Dreamscape feed?”

“Technically, you are seven years old.”

???????????

the second hand embarrassment is UGGGHHH

[reading the description] you mean like the guy who was knocked out for 2 minutes on a football field and woke to find he’d dreamt 17 years of his life? oh this shall be Fun

PART 2

[I check the description] “jasper cult” what the fu-

how many camp camp references can i make during this

Is the apple a reference to religion or does the creator just really ilke apples?

“meal.”

“meal?”

meal????

Wait why couldn’t that guy eat the apple? If he wanted it in the fruit bowl, wouldn’t there be a chance of the guy eating it anyways?? Why can’t the guy who brought the apple eat it?

well he’s Dead

[debating if I should read the backstory}

n a h h h h h -

Was he gonna feed the dead guy the apple or something? Why is he upset about the apple in this scene???

oooo the grownups are fightinnnngggg

Is he an antagonist?

HE WROTE A BOOK???

oh now i want food

ESTABLISH JUSTICE ENSURE DOMESTIC TRANQUILITYYYYYYYYYYYYY

“I watched all those aforementioned shows” what shows did i miss something what-

man why you gotta hate on her jane austen fanfic let her live bro

string theory! i can get behind that! sorta-

o no he found the memes-

BOY GOT KNOCKED OUT-

kim there’s people that are dying-

is SHE an antagonist?

quinn? calling himself jasper? u sure hes not just nonbinary? is this just a metaphor for transphobic parenting?

“He died... but somewhere, he grew up.” So is your plan to take a Quinn from a different universe and make him your own, thereby robbing another version of yourself from happiness? When does this ever go well?

Yknow most people, when they lose a kid,,,, kinda,,,,,,, dont go on a ceaseless quest to find another version of their kid that grew up without knowing that another version of his mother was invading other peoples’ dreams to find and kidnap him,,,,,,,, like aint u got a therapist-

“Once you get past the point of not knowing what’s real anymore, you realize it doesn’t matter.” Well, I Got Called Out-

PART 3

“you’re real, oliver.”

aRe yOu sUrE aBoUt tHaT-

“you’ve been infected by the anti-love parasite of Mandadon” the amatonormativity is strong

so anyways ive been infected since birth hbu-

“James Jasperson, creator of Japple” did you mean to Fancy Well-Educated Man in a Black Turtleneck? cause the only FWEMBT i allow near me is prof. hidgens

“are you winning?” says the capitalist

why did you rewind to see his face?? you have the same face????? is this just bc the creator doesnt like working with other people cause in that case same but???????

“it’s a bad idea. i’m not gonna do it.” we’ve all been there. and we’ve all done it.

looks like me trying to study. (i say, a person who has studied a total of five minutes throughout their entire life.)

your “Spartan trial” looks like a bunch of guys standing on a hill pretending to be something they’re not. Let The Man Bring His Snacks.

eat the apple.

is this your first existential crisis or something what a loser lets all point and laugh

“One of you should be spared, the other shall’nt.” did you mean shant or was that a choice-

yall gonna get called out for talking shut UP

“sorry if this is too personal, btw. are you okay?”

me, confused and half understanding what’s going on and also needing to sleep cause its almost one in the morning but wanting to finish what i can find of lucids which i only starting watching cause i saw an animatic of ranboo and dream w audio from it: i don’t know anymore

“i just want my life back... i was gonna get married-” AREN’T YOU LIKE SEVEN-

ay man if this is a sacrificial cult yall gotta get daniel-

UPDATE: I  H A V E  N O T  F O U N D  I T -

“oliver”

I  F O U N D   I  T -

WHICH ONE IS QUINN?? WHO’S JASPER???? WHICH ONE IS BENJAMIN???? I THOUGH BENJAMIN WAS SEVEN BUT I THOUGHT HE WAS THE ONE GETTING MARRIED WHAT-

oliver. eat the apple.

“Can you still have memories even when you’re dreaming?” One time I woke up to my alarm and fell back asleep and in my dream I remembered that I had class in a few minutes and my dream self woke my real self up so fast I thought I was gonna get whiplash. Anyways, I was late to class bc of my computer but that doesn’t matter.

NOPE I FOUND IT. HERE’S THE AUDIO. THE ANIMATIC ONE. FINALLY.

im thinking car crash. but also maybe murder. but also maybe both? is it raining or was he drowning? is he in a coma? hmmmmmm?

wait olivers the one with the apple does that mean he’s the one dreaming? is the ending gonna be him and jasper (quinn? idk) fighting against ben and mrs hills about jasper eating the apple to save oliver from the dream? hmmmmmmmmmm-

waitwaitwait i thought oliver was 7 how is benjamin 7 years younger than him if they look the same age what what what explain america explain what you mean arkansaw-

are the cuts on his nose plot-relevant or

“What if you hadn’t been driving?” So I was right about the car accident but Mrs. Hills still said he was seven so did i mishear her say that BENJAMIN was seven? but even then oliver would be 14 and that would still be illegal-

“How are you feeling?”

“Like you’re a pretty bad therapist.”

mood

“--it makes it all bearable to have power over the stories we write in our heads” that’s why i write fanfiction

HE’S GOT THE NOTEBOOK HE’S GONNA WRITE SOMETHING ONE OF US ONE OF US ONE OF US

WHAT YOU MEAN AN EXPERIMENT THAT’S HIS NAME-

[upon reading the description] so i was right.

wait was that supposed to be the twist in part 2 about the apple in his pocket is that what the existential crisis was about i thought it was because he was introduced to the multiple worlds theory-

PART 4

wait wasnt the other one january 2018 why we going back to 2017-

appol

“--the future and the past all already exist” mhm yep figured this out long ago

there was simultaneously a point in time in which i hadn’t known about this, had been looking it up, had been watching it, and had been writing an ending to this post, and had been posting it the next morning before class. that time is both now and not now. Welcome To The Multiverse Theory or whatever its called-

“--my favorite scene of the movie is waking up next to you.” Mine is eating fast food as I listen to AJJ and play Minecraft. We are not the same.

Now I’m hungry but it’s 1 in the morning and i already put my retainer in god fu-

[reading description] what do you mean previously??? she did that in the first episode????????

[still on description] WHAT DO YOU MEAN WILL QUINN BITE THE APPLE AND GO TO BENJAMINS REALITY ISNT THIS OLIVERS REALITY AND HE HAS TO GET BEN TO BITE THE APPLE WHY IS APPLE CAPITALIZED IS THIS THE DOING OF THE FWEMBT

i should have watched the backstory i should have watched the backstory i should have watched the backstory i should have wa-

[description] oh ive been spelling quinn right the whole time nice

i hope she rejects you /j

WAIT BENJAMIN WAS THE ONE GETTING MARRIED TO ISABELLE

ISNT HE IN SECOND GRADE-

HE IS SEVEN YEARS OLD HOW IS HE GETTING MARRIED ARE THERE TWO BENJAMINS THAT WE’RE FOCUSING ON-

bro get out of the road ull get hit

how do you knOW WHICH ONE IS QUINN THEY ARE THE SAME PERSON-

so

wait

hills wants ben to feed quinn the apple bc in his mind, that will give hills and quinn a happy ending and she doesnt want ben to see the apple bc thats gonna mean ben will know that his reality isnt reality at all. so then oliver has to,,,, not let anyone eat his apple? he just has to wake up?

IS HILLS THE VILLAIN AFTER ALL ORRRRR

wait but if ben sees the apple wont he realize that his reality is wrong and his reality will change, making it so that hills doesnt get her son? or is there some time-based rule that says they’re only transported to the reality that the person believes at that moment? or is this another stab at the multiverse thing where an infinite amount of hills gets their happy endings while an infinite amount of hills doesnt and etc etc?

i should have watched the ba-

oooo dramatique

they’re in a time loop?

nope thats a new powerpoint

wait so theyre,,,, no-

wait-

nvm-

IS THE BEN WE KNOW AN ADULT GETTING MARRIED TO ISABELLE OR NOT-

“they were actually pretty nice” didnt they throw someone off a cliff-

oh so it got confusing THEN??? NOT BEFORE?????

“it all seemed so real.” is that Not the point of vivid REM sleep hallucinations-

is oliver gonna show ben the apple and ruin hills’ whole operation

WHO ARE ALEX AND RYAN-

“what’s 25-8″ bro dont do this to me-

yep hes gonna show the apple

ayyy the guy who stole karl jacobs jacket it back

the second hand embarrassment is back and I Hate It

all that happens in episode ONE??? bro get some better writers that is bad pacing

“it’s the best!” wait until season eight. no show has a good season eight.

quinn knows about the apple thing w the dreams and multiverse and realities dont he

YOU KILLED HIM

NOT KARL JACOBS NOOOOO HES ALREADY DIED ONCE

oliver is v relatable

wHaT iN tArNaTiOn-

lemme hear that explanaton again-

is bill cipher gonna show up? i hope bill cipher shows up. i miss gravity falls

“ah! a tree! ah! a tree! ah a tree!” moooooooood

did hills murder quinn

is your family the jasper cult

TOXXIICCCCCC get that lady out of your life quinn that is so toxic

“ ah! a tree! ah! a tree! ah a tree!  ah! a tree! ah! a tree! ah a tree!” mooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooood

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT’S THE END NO WHAT WHY NO

The Adventures of Benjamin and Oliver

he is Not Good

ope-

wait so ben is equal parts an adult AND a child?? okay that clears a lot up

I MEAN HE WAS RIGHT THO BEN U CAN’T REALLY ARGUE ON THAT-

ew get off the floor

butterfly effect, multiverse theory, memory decay, and your imagination ALL exist yall gonna ignore that cause you wanna be famous?

“We already know what the future looks like!”

aRe yOu sUrE aBoUt tHaT-

to add to the list of bad things: Cats (2019)

YA BOI THINKS IT’S NOT ALREADY FIFTY YEARS TOO LATE TO START FIGHTING CLIMATE CHANGE FFFFF

BINGO BABYYYY

get what what

what mapped-

awwwww he thinks THEY’RE creating the multiverse

you gonna dismiss the multiverse theory bc of something you created in your current reality? loooserrrrrr

ABUSE YOUR GODLIKE POWERS

she draggin that seven year old

a lot makes sense now why didnt i do this first-

Jasper

the food shortages-

bro that calculators like 90 bucks at walmart

imagine meeting a stranger and they know Everything about your life like that’s gotta be so weird

what’s even weirder is them telling you you’re the deity of a cult that sacrifices animals

THAT FOURTH WALL BREAK WAS-

KARL JACOBS IS DEAD NOOOOOO

ooohhh there’s context for that

OOOOHHHH THERE’S CONTEXT FOR THIS TOOOO

w h a t -

w  h  a  t  -

W   H   A   T   -

Conclusion:

it’s 2 in the morning and i need sleep but hOOOOO MY GODS THAT WAS GOOD IS IT OVER OR NOT IDK ANYMORE IM TIRED THAT WAS CRAZY I HOPE QUINN AND JASPER GO ON TO BE VERY GOOD FRIENDS, AND I HOPE BENJAMIN AND OLIVER STAY VERY GOOD FRIENDS AND I HOPE HILLS FINDS A THERAPIST WAS A LITTLE CONFUSING BUT I ENJOYED IT

if i dream about apples im suing /j /lh

#lucids #nicholas podany #there's a metaphor in there somewhere #but im not gonna be the one to find it #i dont think i dreamed about apples #youre safe for now podany #for now #EDIT #I PUT 'something their not' #WRONG THERE #I HAVE NO EXCUSE #IM SORRY

[gukyi]

for you, anything (post-script) | ksj

summary: in the midst of all of the coworker chaos over your newfound relationship, you and seokjin make a deal. 

{established relationship!au, friends to lovers!au, enemies to lovers!au}

pairing: kim seokjin x female reader genre: fluff word count: 2k warnings: bts being annoying coworkers a/n: shoutout to @aurawatercolor​ for being so wonderful and for commissioning this drabble’s monster predecessor: for you, anything!! thank you for being so patient with me and overall being a good friend of mine. much love!

Here

“Back off, he’s mine!” You shriek, furiously mashing your keyboard buttons as your eyes zero in on your computer screen. Maintaining as much of a grip onto your mouse and keyboard as possible, you push your office chair towards Seokjin’s in a desperate attempt to get him to lose his hold by crashing into him, bumper-car style. You hear the scratchy fabric collide, a soft thud that ricochets you forward, almost like you had crashed into a fuzzy rock. 

Naturally peeved, you turn around to find your boyfriend completely unbothered, having moved barely an inch. And yeah, you weren’t great at Physics when you took it in high school, but you have a feeling that that’s not how Newton’s Third Law works. 

Unfortunately for you, the split second you spend glaring at the back of Seokjin’s head means that he can go in for the killing blow, sword stabbing through the warrior king on the screen until he collapses in a pool of video game blood. The sound of a death cry and a cheer echos from your computer speakers, and you groan. 

“Not again,” you say, exasperated. You toss your head back against the chair, eyes rolling upwards, just enough to make out Seokjin eyeing you, a smug expression written all over his face. “I told you I had him.”

“You just weren’t fast enough, I guess,” Seokjin says casually, bouncing out of his chair to gloat to you all up front and personal. 

“You better share all of the money and rewards you got from that kill,” you demand, poking a finger against your cheek. Seokjin kisses you gladly, wrapping his arms over the chair and around you as he rocks your office chair side to side. The benefit of working together in Kingdom is that you always have backup you can trust (unlike some other MMO games, one of which rhymes with Meague of Megends), but Kingdom was designed for loot to be collected by whoever delivers the death blow, and not split evenly among all parties. 

Lucky for you, your boyfriend happens to be both good at the game and willing to share all of his treasure. 

“Ew, gross, PDA at three o’clock,” Jungkook says loudly, his whiny voice interrupting you and Seokjin’s lovers’ quarrel. 

“Ugh, just because you guys can have a successful and empowering relationship doesn’t mean you have to rub it in all of our faces,” Taehyung adds with a huff. At least nobody’s singing playground nursery rhymes about the two of you anymore. Since when last did people actually sit in trees, anyway?

“Get a room,” Yoongi deadpans as per usual. His attitude has not changed even though the state of you and Seokjin’s relationship definitely has. You know you can always count on him to give it to you straight. 

“Hey, no making out on office premises,” Namjoon says, barging into the room with his glasses tucked into the collar of his sweater, one of those pastel cream ones that dads who golf wear (though Namjoon is neither a dad nor plays golf). He’s switched to an iPad in recent weeks, which, despite being much more environmentally friendly, is still not Namjoon-friendly, and he often has to troubleshoot basic things like the functionality of the Notes app. Not to mention, his place of employment is filled with twerps who love doing things like spamming his camera roll and locking himself out of his own iPad. You think the record is three hours, but give the device to Hoseok and he’ll get it up to a couple of days with ease. “You guys agreed to that when you signed the employee handbook.”

“You always think so lowly of us, Joon,” Seokjin chides, and since he’s everybody’s best friend, he’s the only one who can get away with doing that. “We were just talking.”

“And playing Kingdom,” Yoongi pipes up, quickly switching away from his Haikyuu!!! tab. 

“If there’s a rule against Kingdom in the employee handbook, you’d have to fire all of us,” you remind Namjoon pointedly. Not even Yoongi would be spared, even if he’s terrible at the game itself. 

“But if you did, maybe Jungkook could finally live out his dream of being an E-sports gamer,” Taehyung adds, sending Jungkook into a tizzy. 

Seokjin scoffs, “He’d have to knock me and Y/N out of first and second place first, though.” 

“But please don’t fire us,” Taehyung pipes up weakly. 

“Nobody’s getting fired. You guys just better be doing your work,” Namjoon says. “Hey, it says that my iPad is going to be updated later tonight, do I need to do anything about that?”

Everyone groans. 

“Hey, what if we got married?” Seokjin nudges you with his shoulder. 

You sputter out the water you had been drinking all over your desk. “Married?” It dawns on you that shouting out that word in an office filled with nosy coworkers may not be the brightest idea. 

“You guys are getting married?” Taehyung shrieks excitedly. “Oh my God, I call being best man!”

“You don’t get to make that decision, idiot!” Jungkook shouts. “Besides, Seokjin would totally pick me over you anyway.”

“Who says?”

“Guys, we’re not getting married,” Seokjin says before the whole office breaks out into a brawl. Taehyung’s expression falls, sinking back into his chair, defeated. Yoongi had even quirked up for a moment before immediately turning back to his anime. “At least, in real life, we’re not.”

“Oh, you meant in-game?” You ask, the realization dawning on you. You notice everyone in the office eyeing you and Seokjin. Glaring at each and every person, you say, “He meant in-game, mind your own beeswax, you nosy freaks.” 

“Obviously,” Seokjin says with a roll of his eyes. “I love you, Y/N, but seeing as how we started dating three months ago, I think that marriage is pushing it. But in Kingdom, yeah, why not? We’ll get a lot of buffs from being married.”

Seokjin’s got a point. Being married in Kingdom means that the two of you will share wealth, property, and have the option of combining special powers during battles. It also means that the game will split boss and player rewards evenly amongst the two of you without you having to do it manually. Besides, isn’t it only right for the top two players in the game to get married? Assert their dominance? Remind Jungkook that he’ll never be an E-sports gamer for Kingdom? 

“Sounds like a plan,” you say, easily convinced. Besides, Seokjin could ask you to hand over all of your coins in the game, leaving you penniless, and you wouldn’t bat an eyelash. “We can do it later tonight.”

“My place? We can order takeout.”

“Only if we can get some cheesecake as well,” you say. 

“Done.”

Seokjin plants another kiss onto your lips before returning to his own desk, your office chairs facing away from each other as you get back to work, the promise of a nice meal and some quality time together keeping you motivated. 

Out of the blue, you say, “I would have said yes, you know.”

“To what?” Seokjin asks, not even turning around. 

“To asking if we could get married,” you tell him. He rounds on you, eyes wide. “I would have said yes.”

Seokjin seems frozen in place before he caves, body relaxing as his entire face begins to glow, red and orange and pink. “Tell you what,” he says. “I’ll ask again later, and if your answer is still the same, then we can.”

“How much later?” You ask. You don’t like to be kept waiting. Especially since the both of you know that your answer almost definitely won’t falter. 

Seokjin grins. “You’ll see.”

There

“I never liked fancy dresses,” you comment, pulling at the collar of the white dress lacing your features, hugging your body like a bedsheet. It’s scratchy and uncomfortable and restricting, making you feel like you can’t eat a single apple without popping open. There’s a veil with a train the size of the castle behind you, and the tiara on your head is so heavy and sharp that ti feels as though you’re about to topple. All this for a wedding?

“Good thing you’ll never have to wear one again after this, right?” Jin whispers back, the two of you facing the officiant before you as a crowd of onlookers watches the two of you. 

“Is that a promise?” You ask. “We’re making a lot of promises today, aren’t we?”

“And I will keep every single one of them with honor,” Jin says dramatically. It almost makes you reach out to punch him in the shoulder, but you don’t for the sake of publicity, hands wrapped tightly around the bouquet, filled with roses and tulips and carnations. You can’t believe you’re saying this, but you think you prefer your knight’s garb. At least it comes with flat boots. 

You even tune out what the officiant is saying, an old, monotonous advisor who oversees all military weddings, waiting boredly until you are prompted to respond. Time usually goes by rather quickly in the Kingdom, whether you are strolling through the market or on the battlefield, but here, it feels as though it’s taking forever and a day. Discreetly, you turn to look at Jin, who notices your gaze and rolls his eyes, just to make you laugh. At least the both of you feel the same about this whole thing. You wish there were an easier way to do this, perhaps just going to a courthouse and signing some papers and making a vow or two. Does the entire kingdom have to watch? 

“Do you promise to uphold these values, Jin?” The officiant asks. 

“I do,” Jin says. 

“Do you promise to uphold these values, Y/N?” 

Relieved that it’s finally coming to an end, you nod. “I do.”

“Then, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss.”

Immediately, Jin turns to you, reaching an arm out to hold onto your waist as he pulls you towards him, your faces pressed up against each other, breaths hitting each others’ skin. 

“I’ve been waiting all day to do this,” he whispers softly. 

“Then don’t hold back,” you challenge. 

In one fell swoop, Jin presses a kiss on your lips, soft and warm and gentle. It’s filled with more promises than the officiant could even dream of making, filled with more vows than any wedding ceremony could produce. What this is is more than a silly pledge, a matrimonial technicality. It is an oath. To protect each other. To care for each other. To love each other.

And you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that for the rest of time, until the sun collapses and the moon vanishes, that you will.

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget i’m still taking commissions!

#seokjin fluff #seokjin angst #jin fluff #jin angst #bts fluff #bts angst #seokjin scenario #jin scenario #bts scenario #jin fic #bts fic #bts au #seokjin imagine #jin imagine #bts imagine #w: for you anything