Monster Talk: So I have this headcanon that werewolves are extremely sore & tired after a full moon. Shifting makes their muscles hurt & wears them out. They need warm baths, cuddles, & gentle massages. They're sleepy cuddly with their partner after & tend to be more affectionate
I like this idea so much I can’t.
Taking your werewolf lover into the house from the leaf pile they’ve slept in all night and gently giving them a shower and a long bath. All those gentle intimate things like washing their hair. Keeping a stock of hardcore painkillers, heat pads and a hot water bottle for them too and just coaxing them into bed, wet hair and smelling fresh before turning on a heated blanket and snoozing under it. Stroking their hair and applying heat/cool gels to their joints. Just generally being all soft and gooey with each other until its time to make dinner. Eating stews and cuddling around a fire while they enjoy the scalding heat against all their aching parts. Very wholesome hours.
You could even consider just partners having the weekend off together just to keep each other sane during the trying times that is a werewolf’s shift. The werewolf probably tends to get snappy and cranky around the shifting time so a good day of PDA indoors together is good for both of them.
Did you see the news, we're dumping Trump! I know the country has A LOT of work ahead of us, but this feels like such a victory! I am so happy & hopeful for the first time in so long ❤
Hello my friend! Yes I have been watching the news like a hawk for the past 5 days, and when I wasn’t watching the news, I was with my brother watching him go through the different possibilities as the data poured in. I saw it right when the news broke, and my entire street broke out into celebration!
My neighbors are having a party right now actually lol and are setting off fireworks. It’s a very very good day for this country :,)
Oooh for the headcanon thing, could you do Reaper please?
AHHH friend in so sorry tungle ate ur ask i just saw this now
Sexuality Headcanon: *Reaper ulting voice* bi bi bi
Gender Headcanon: a cis man! ive never actually seen any other headcanons but i wouldn’t have a problem with them at all!
A ship I have with said character: again, McReyes is my OTP and McR76 is my OT3, R76 by itself is also fine
A BROTP I have with said character: lol r76 is also a brotp, chillin in a hot tub, right next to each other bc theyre very gay. I love Gabe and Ana as best buds, or Gabe and Gerard. Let gabe have friends!
A NOTP I have with said character: agani, i dont really have any NOTPs im sure there are gabe shipsi dont ship as hard or just dont ship at all, but i dont even know that i’ve seen an OW ship that made me go NOPE
A random headcanon: i love the headcanons that gabe is a rly well-rounded family man to offset Jacks dorkiness. Gabe played soccer or smth but also he was in drama club, he likes to cook with his family and he has a lot of diverse interests that really kind of clash with his life and prowess as a soldier? like honestly the fandom has made Gabe and Jesse the best and most interesting characters in overwatch by really making them multifaceted and giving them a whole life and sense of depth that other characters havent gotten
General Opinion over said character: big husband material. He should be my sugar daddy and then we’ll fall in love. very cool guy. Hope he gets a redemption arc bc blizzard fumbled with his character right out of the gate but theyve been taking steps to fix that, the shotguns are cool. jesse mccree is is boyfriend and jack is his husband
I really love your writing,& I was wondering if you could do a oneshot for the reader (Bucky's girlfriend) being reunited with Bucky by Steve. Like the reader died fighting Thanos & Steve brought her foward from a different timeline to be with Bucky. If this is too specific or spoilery no worries. ☺
Requests for oneshots are closed, but since this is such a simple request, I can do it as a gif imagine instead. Thanks for requesting! :)
If you are still accepting halloween requests, could you do some fluffy halloween decorating (like carving pumpkins & such) with Genji
a/n: here you go, sweetie!! a short little scenario!
It was silly, but you went right along with Genji’s idea to use his sword skills to carve a pumpkin for Halloween. That happy little chuckle that you heard when you agreed to go with him to buy a pumpkin, and seeing how excited he was to carve it made going along with this all the more worth it.
After taking longer than you thought was needed on picking a pumpkin, ‘It has to be the right one!’ your boyfriend announced with the happiness of a child in a candy store while he moved pumpkins and looking at the gourds before deciding on one that made him happy.
It was even more amazing to see Genji balance it on his blade, before slicing at it and catching it. The end result got a laugh out of the two of you, the pumpkin’s little face was off, but the two of you loved it.
So I just found your blog & I love it! Could you please do something for reaper x nurse!reader? Like maybe she's one of the only nurses who works on him, & he falls for her
This ran a little gosh darn long ( ´△｀)
“Can you do me a favor and administer this to patient twenty-four, please?” you ask of your co-worker, handing her a syringe chock-full of powerful meds. It’s a color unlike any kind of medicine you’ve ever seen before, a deep silver. The container marked with explicit red letters warning that it’s for twenty-four, and twenty-four only. You’re only asking her because you have ten other patients on your plate, three of which are very, very demanding, but the medicine is time sensitive and needs to be given within the hour. It is his last dose.
She turns her nose up at the syringe. “Patient twenty-four? Hell no…” she says.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not helping that patient anymore, there’s something wrong with him.” She crosses her arms and shakes her head emphasizing her refusal.
“Yeah. That’s why he’s here,” you say with a roll of your eyes.
“He growled at me. Like an animal.” She shrugs, dismissing the bewildered look on your face, stubborn and unmoving. “Someone else can help him.”
“I’ll be sure to report this conversation to the medical board if he ever passes from neglect.” Slamming the syringe down on the metal tray you pick it up and head on out to do the simple task yourself.
“Wait, wait, wait,” she begs, holding up both her hands in a surrender, “I’ll take all three of your button pushers, plus one… if you’ll deal with twenty-four.”
“Fine,” you say, turning around on your heel and holding your chin high. You’ll spare her the lecture sitting on the tip of your tongue. One on choosing to work in a hospital that specializes in unique, often strange patients with “no names” and highly classified files, for more than the standard legal reasons. Maybe she should find a run of the mill hospital if she’s going to wimp out when one of the patients exhibits slightly frightening behavior…
… Besides, her offer is actually an immense relief off of your back. The ‘button-pushers’ have caused you far more stress than twenty-four ever has. The fewer patients you have the sooner you can sleep, you’re running on empty right now. “…And. You’re going to take patient thirteen– he needs to be shaved.”
She looks down at her wrist, a holographic chart pops up. She taps on four different files and then says, “You got a deal. Enjoy your lighter workload.”
You nearly thanked her, already felt the weight lifted off of your shoulders; it shows in the way you leisurely walk to the patient’s room, but then remember that she’s only taking them so she can safely avoid said patient, and are glad that you didn’t give thanks.
The door to his room can only be opened via a hand and eye scan, as well as a password, given to the AI. After forking over all three components, the AI announces your presence as the door slides open.
“Good afternoon, twenty-four.”
“You again,” the man says as his custom as his form of hello.
“Yes; it is me, again.”
He watches you carefully as you approach his bedside. “No one else works here?” he asks.
You sigh as you administer the medication into one of his IVs (he has three total, all in the same arm). “…The rest of the nurses are scared of you.”
“They should be. You should be too.”
“Oh, please! Spare me the dramatic statements, alright? I’m too exhausted for that nonsense right now.”
“As you wish,” he grumbles. He growls as he lays back further into the bed as the medicine enters his system.
You’ll admit that there is something about the man that makes you uneasy… that rumble must have been something akin to the growl that had thrown off your co-worker. You could speculate, and speculate, and speculate some more about who this man is, and what he does outside of sitting in a hospital bed being treated for…. whatever it is he’s being treated for, and you’d probably never come up with the right guess.
It’d be best for you not to. Having too much knowledge is dangerous in your line of work. Just do your job, and go home with a nice paycheck.
Staring at the middle of his chest where his voice rumbles the most you find yourself wondering… perhaps a morbid thought, what the man’s insides look like, what they’re made up of. What makes his voice sound like that? What causes the flits of smoke wisping from his mouth, the corners of his eyes? You’re only given the bare necessities in terms of his medical history, what’s required to ensure his recovery.
No scans, X-rays, no blood results. You’re not even privileged with the nature of what injury he’s recovering from. From the looks of him, you’d say it has to be something internal. Everything to the naked eye seems to be fine. He’s clearly a battle-worn soldier. Skin is… a little greyer than normal, but the richness of his brown color still shines through. None of his scars look fresh…
“What hour are you on?” he asks.
“Um…” You stumble to remember the answer, close your eyes to concentrate. Both because twenty-four must have noticed the faraway stare, so you’re flustered, and because you’re dead tired. “…Hour thirty-six, soon.”
He chuckles, low, and villainous. “Tired already?”
You tilt your head to the side studying his face. His supernatural tone of voice is hard to pick apart. You can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or if the air of judgment in his words is real.
“Yes. I am. They made super soldiers, but they didn’t make super nurses. I am only human,” you sigh and pinch the bridge fo your nose, “…unfortunately.”
“That’s far from unfortunate. Stay that way, would you? Don’t become a freak like the rest of us.”
You hmph as your smartwatch chimes multiple times, alerting you to several texts. “I’ll try,” you say as you check it. Finding messages from your cowardly co-worker.
I took the rest of your workload :)
plz dont report me
Hope we’re good
“Oh… my God,” you whisper to yourself. You quickly text her back:
we’re fine
thanks for doing that
please contact me if it becomes too much
ill be getting some sleep
When you flick the screen away and look back up the man is sporting a similar type of faraway look you must have had but a few moments earlier. Except his is far more concerning than yours was. Now you’re on high alert, heart picking up its pace, hummingbird thumping against your ribcage. It’s situations like this when you desperately wish you knew the patient’s name.
“Twenty-four? Twenty-four?! Are you alright?”
You should call his doctor but you don’t. You reach for his hand and lean in to cup his face (uncharacteristically unprofessional for you). As soon as your hand touches his he snatches it up so quickly and so tightly that you yelp. His skin vibrates against both of your hands, goes momentarily translucent, and for a second you thought he was going to disappear right before your eyes.
He meets your intense gaze with one that is even more so, near sapping. His eyes flit back and forth… searching for something. A shiver runs sharp down your spine, your breath shudders out from your chest. The man’s grip on your hand is boarding on painful, but the room has become so electrically charged that you hardly pay any attention to the discomfort.
“What’s happening?” you whisper.
“Don’t freak out,” he says gruffly. He leans forward until his forehead is just shy of pressing against yours. “You always panic. Do not call that–” the man groans, closes his eyes, and grits his teeth as his skin starts to vibrate again– “Do not sick that shrew of a woman on me…”
“A- always? Wh- what?” The circumference around your head tightens like a rubber band, throbbing settles on each of your temples. A frustrating fog settles around your brain as you try to figure out what he could be talking about. This has never happened before, you’ve never “freaked out” on the job.
His free hand flies up with such ferocity it seemed he was going to smack you in the face. But it comes to a gentle stop, and he cups your jaw. His thumb strokes intimately across your cheekbone. “Don’t scream,” he demands.
His grip on your hand is becoming unbearable. “Twenty–”
“Gabriel, my name is Gab–”
His words cut off as all of the sudden he bursts into a dark black plume of mist. It surrounds you, pressures your ears, and suppresses your sight. You lose your equilibrium, falling over onto the hospital bed, hyperventilating. Maybe you’re freaking out, but you manage not to scream.
The mist moves away from you to the head of the bed. You watch it waft and evanescence with awe, you’ve never seen anything quite like this in your time working here.
“Gabriel?”
The smoke forms back into a man, but not as you just knew him. Dressed not in a hospital gown, but in a long black coat, hood up, with his back to you.
“Gabe?!”
He sighs, exaggerated, and long; rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck from side to side. “That’s much better.” Gabe carefully turns to face you, slowly revealing himself to now be masked. Not just masked. Infamously masked. The world-renowned, cold-blooded terrorist known to the public as the “Reaper.”
Reaper seems so much bigger, far more of a menace now that he’s revealed himself to be, well, the Reaper. Clad in black, and not humbled by hospital blankets, and a soft blue gown.
“I’ve always liked the way you say my name,” he croons.
There’s that word again… always. “I’ve never said your name before… why do you keep saying things like that?” Your heart won’t stop racing, suddenly all of your fatigue is weighing you down like an anvil dropping into the deep ocean.
“It’s time for you to take a nap.”
You shake your head. “Can you explain?”
“You sleep; when you wake up… I’ll explain. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”
You’re right on the precipice of having no choice but to rest. If you stood right now you’re almost sure that you’d black out. So instead of fighting it any more, you lay back on the bed, now watching Reaper’s every move as he grabs a chair, pulls it up, and sits down.
You stare at him with glassy eyes, until they tear over, and roll down your cheeks. He leans forward, rests his elbows on his knees.
“Close. Your. Eyes.”
Once your heavy lids fall closed there’s no opening them again. Sleep settles in your muscles, weighs down your consciousness. But you still have just one more question.
“Why do you act like you know me?” Your voice cracks, protesting your question.
“Because I do, you’re always my nurse.”
“Always.” You laugh maniacally. The chair screeches as he scoots closer. A jolt of electricity shoots through your chest as a metal talon glides from the point of your chin to your ear. “…This was my first time treating you, I think… I would remember meeting the infamous Reaper.”
He laughs, you can feel the smugness radiating off his body. “You always say that,” he says, traced with longing.
“Oh… fuck you… cryptic bastard…”
Reaper watches you drift off, painful adoration tugging at his heart. Your pursed lips slack with sleep, you snore softly. As soon as he tries to leave this room Moira will wipe your memory of him. Just as she does every nurse who helps take care of the Talon agents. Keeping them aware, but not too aware. To ensure no one runs their mouth, and identities stay hidden. Especially with agents like him, falling for nurses like you, and spilling secrets due to pesky romantic feelings.
He who is of the resentful opinion that it is what’s best for you, the option that will keep you the safest. He’ll threaten the mad scientist with death if she dares take too much, dares to mess with your genetics the way she did him. He can hear her grating laughter now, her swearing she’d never dream of incurring his wrath. Even if he knows how it will go, he still threatens. His protective nature doesn’t allow him to do anything else.
Reaper stands and looms over your sleeping form. In his line of work, there will always be more injuries, more nanobot transplants. The next mission may leave him under your care for weeks, he can’t say that doesn’t sound half bad. He looks forward to meeting you again, and again, and again.
I was wondering if you could do something for Thrawn finding himself attracted to a royal fem!reader of a neutral planet. Like maybe the Emperor sent him to talk to the reader about the possibility of joining the empire & he and the reader found themselves quite taken with eachother. Thank you all so much for the work you put into this blog, you are all amazing!
HELL YEAH I’M HERE FOR THIS STAR WARS MEETS GAME OF THRONES SHIT!!! FUCK!!! YOU KNOW ME TOO WELL!!!!
”And so,” Thrawn said, finally seeming to end his monologue, “we believe it to be mutually beneficial for your planet and the Empire to join forces.”
You just started at the grand admiral, already knowing your answer, but you hated this setting. You were one of the few actual royals left that held authority over their planet that was still at peace with the Empire without being under its direct rule, and you knew it was because Palpatine needed your planet’s resources too desperately. The Emperor was smart enough to know not to take it by force, so while peaceful arrangements had been made to make the both of you happy, you still were not technically a member of the Empire.
”I’m bored,” you announced. You stood from your throne, holding your skirts a bit to make your gown easier to walk in; you normally weren’t fond of wearing them and opted for more practical clothing but the arrival of an Imperial Grand Admiral called for the flashy garments as a mutual show of respect and power. “Let’s go for a walk. But just us, Grand Admiral. The stormtroopers don’t need to attend and neither do my guards.”
Thrawn smirked, thinking himself victorious, and nodded at the stormtroopers to indicate that this was okay. “Very well, Your Majesty.”
You took Grand Admiral Thrawn to your gardens. It was mostly cacti and other similar plants since your planet was a desert planet, but different from the likes of Tatooine or Jakku in the sense that yours was rich with natural springs and rich materials that lead to a wealthy and luxurious planet. Thrawn’s skin was more blue than the sky, you noticed, but your people always had an appreciation for what others may find odd; you saw the beauty in it.
”May I be frank with you, Grand Admiral?”
”This is your home, Your Majesty. Of course.”
You liked his answer. “I’m not stupid. The Emperor knows I’m not. That’s why he sent you; he’s trying a new approach. But I know what happened to Naboo and I don’t want that to happen here.” You stopped by one of the springs in your gardens. “So I’m afraid you’ll have to tell Emperor Palpatine that I’m rejecting his offer, however would be willing to continue negotiating.”
Thrawn looked genuinely surprised and you could tell this was not an emotion he experienced often. “Under what circumstances?”
”You ask the right questions,” you said with a smirk and a glimmer in your eye. “Under the circumstance that I get to continue negotiating with you. With the exception of Emperor Palpatine, you’re the first Imperial to step foot here with a deeper understanding of our culture and values. I can tell you took the time, and I appreciate and respect that.”
There was more left unspoken. The look in Thrawn’s eyes indicated that he was catching on, but playing your game. He seemed to even be enjoying it. ”Do you ever intend to accept his terms?”
”You’ll have to keep coming to find out.”
Thrawn grinned, finally fully understanding what you were getting at. “That would be my pleasure, Your Majesty.” He was so bold as to kiss the back of your hand, his red eyes looking bravely at you over it, but you just smiled as he did.
”Good. Would you and your crew care to stay for dinner? We’re preparing a rather large feast for the summer solstice.”
Thrawn was playing smart, but couldn’t deny that he wanted to — he always appreciated someone who shared his wit, and he admired your bluntness. Better yet, he thought, was that he wouldn’t mind the flirtation, regardless of how beneficial it may be to the Empire; after being used to being mistreated by Imperials for it, he was rather flattered. He replied, ”We’d be honored.”
