#i had no idea i needed buttons on tablet before

[glimpsesofeuterpe]

Are you going to be using your new tablets for commissions too? 👀 Or is it still a learning curve to get used to them?

yesss

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 16

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Happy Wednesday. I didn't have to change this because apparently the last time I updated was also a Wednesday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You look in the mirror, the steam receding to the frame. You look tired. You feel it. 

You put away the bottles you used for your bath and try some of the brown sugar moisturizer, hoping it might ease the dry spots left from the friction of your pillow. You cap it and place it in the basket with the rest.

You hang your towel on the rack and flip back the silver tab of the lock. You come out into the hall and nearly trip on your own toes. Andy stands casually against the wall, a dark blue towel folded over one arm, his phone in his other hand as he looks at you over the top.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I hope… hope I didn't take too long…"

"Nah, haven't been waiting long," he smiles and scratches his beard, a few tufts out of place as you hear the coarse graze of his fingertips, "sleep okay?"

You lie, "yes…You?"

"God knows I tried," he shrugs as he stands straight, "pretty shaken by the cops swinging by, you know?"

"Uh, sure," you tuck your lip under your teeth, "sorry–"

"You're not the one who needs to apologize," he waves you off and taps his thumb on the side button of his phone, crossing his arms, a gesture that emphasizes his size. "Anyway, I wanted to ask you something before I start the day."

"Oh?" Your brows squiggle together. What have you done wrong now?

"Did you wanna come to the library? I figured if you need to put together a resume for your application I could get together a few resources. It'd be a quiet place to work." He looks almost nervous as you watch his hand squeeze his phone tighter, knuckles white, "we could get some tea down at the cafe, maybe some lunch?"

You consider him and his request. It isn't a bad idea. You don't know where to start with a resume. You only imagine a blank piece of paper, as empty as your life. You try to smile, your cheeks dimpling painfully.

"Okay," you agree. 

You don't know you have the courage to say no. It is his house and it's a thoughtful idea. Amber always said you should get out when you feel grey… Amber…

"I'll go get my tablet," you say to chase away your sadness, "thanks, Andy."

"No problem," he takes a breath, relief uncoiling the tension from him. Had he really been so anxious? "You're the one doing me a favour, so thank you."

"I am?"

"Yeah, I won't complain for the company and it'll give me something to look forward to," he moves towards the bathroom door as you sidle out of his way. His hand seems to float over your shoulder just before you elude it. Instead he presses it to the door. "I'll try to hurry."

🕊️

It feels almost surreal to be back at the library. It's a reminder of everything that's happened. All that's changed.

Andy brings you in with him as he opens. You stand at the counter and watch him. He does everything with graceful certainty. It makes you insecure, there's nothing you know how to do so effortlessly.

When the library opens, it remains quiet. Andy gathers a few books for reference and you take them to the basement, wary of getting in his way as the first patrons arrive. You're much more comfortable in the isolated underground. 

You claim your usual spot and prop your tablet up in its case sideways. You open a book and delve into the basic formatting of a resume. You type your name at the top but the next line stumps you. Address? What do you put? Andy's? You don't even know it.

You skip that and put your email. Phone number? Yeah, not that either.

You work slowly. Your frustration mounts as you distract yourself with making neat margins and inserting lines over inputting any information. You have nothing to add. No skills, no experience, no value. 

You put your head in your hands and take a deep breath. You're overwhelmed by this simple task. How can you expect to have a job? Like Andy and Amber and everyone else. Everything that is so easy for them is almost impossible for you. You are dumb and worthless.

You stay like that for a while, staring at the table, fighting back tears. What are you going to tell Andy? That you're a loser. That all those expectations he has, you can't meet. Maybe you deserve everything you get, maybe Amber didn't deserve the blight of your existence.

"You're here," her voice draws your head up, as if you summoned her with your thoughts.

You blink, not believing she's real. Amber rushes forward and you sit back, staring wide eyed, terrified at her. She winces and stays on the other side of the table.

"What… why are you looking at me like that?" She clasps her hands together, "please, just listen, please," she pulls out the chair and sits, stretching and arm across the table, "I'm not here to argue–"

"How did you find me?"

"It's not that hard, I know you. I'm your sister."

You fold your arms, shrinking down, brow furrowing, heart sinking. Why is she doing this? She's only her to make you feel worse.

"I'm not here to argue, alright? I just want you to hear me."

"You called the police," you accuse.

"You left in the middle of the night," she hisses, "what was I supposed to do? I was scared."

"And so was I," you snap back. "I'm fine…" you look down and spread your hands over the pages, pushing the book flat, "I'm going to get a job."

She pauses and looks down at the book. She leans in and nods.

"That's great," she forces out stuntedly, "I can help if–"

"No," you shake your head.

She sits back and sighs, "what did I do?" 

"I told you. I'm not a child."

"I know you aren't, bubba."

"Bubba?! You talk to me like I am."

She seals her lips and swallows your word with another nod. She puts her hands on the table, as if steadying herself.

"Right, I'm not going to talk to you like a child. I'm just going to say what I came to say and you can choose to hear me or not." She takes a breath and sets her jaw, "that man does not want to help you. You can't see it but he doesn't want what's best for you, I do.

"I know you've made your choice but it's the wrong one. I can't change your mind, police said they won't bring you back, but I can at least try to talk some sense into you. You do what you want, be the adult you claim to be, but at the end of the day, you're my sister and you always will be.

"Bubba, if this all goes wrong, when it does, I will be waiting. My door is open. Today, tomorrow, in a week, a year, whenever you need me–"

She shudders as her eyes glisten and she puts her palm to her chest, "please just think about what you're doing."

You drop your chin. Your heart clenches. Amber always sounds right. She's always been there but you just can't go back. It feels cowardly to change your mind just because you have to do things for yourself. 

And you just don't believe her. You want to so bad but you see what she's doing. Andy showed you what to look for; she's playing the victim. She hurt you, you didn't hurt her. She couldn't handle you being out of control and now she's panicking.

"Bub…" she utters. You just stare at your lap. "Let me know if you need anything. I'll bring you whatever you want–"

"Hoovering," you whisper, tilting your head up slightly at Amber's confused hum, "it's when a narcissist tries to win back someone they lost. Through spontaneous contact and making empty promises…"

"Bubba, how– I wouldn’t do that."

"I thought you wouldn't… before."

She lingers for a moment. She stands slowly and fixes her purse on her shoulder. She looms over the table and lets out a shallow breath that sounds like a sob.

"You know I'll pick up the phone. I'll be there…" she drags her fingers across the table, "whenever you need me."

She hesitates before she turns to leave. You hear her gulping as she steps between the shelves and steps shuffle out from the staircase.

"Hey, what are you–" Andy's accusation fills the silence, "dove! Are you okay?"

"Shut up," Amber growls, "and don't touch me." You look up as she shoves away his hand on her arm, "I'm leaving…" her voice is sticky with repressed grief, "she won't listen. Are you happy you fucking monster?"

He squares his shoulders and looks at her, glares down his nose, "I'm helping her. Something you never did."

"Fuck yourself. If you hurt her, I will–"

"That won't work. You're not going to stand here and scare her," he snarls, "so go."

They lock in a staredown before Amber elbows past him, marching to the stairs and stopping to look back down at the aisle. You sink down and cover your face. You feel a pit swallowing up. This shouldn't be so hard. None of it. Writing this damn resume or living your own life. It's so hard.

🕊️

You sit in the cafe, watching the street through the window from your seat in the corner. You feel as if you're outside your own body, like you're floating over the pedestrians, watching from some secret tower. You close your eyes and see the blank document etched into your retinas. 

The clink of a dish brings your head up. You sit back, limp and barely able to support your own weight. You just feel empty.

Andy sets down a sandwich before you, beside the steaming tea you hadn't touched. He gives a sheepish smile as your eyes bore past him. He sits and places a napkin beside you plate.

Neither the sight or scent of food can stir your appetite. You can't even remember the last time you ate. Last night you pushed around the casserole noodles until he stopped paying attention.

"Looks good," he says as he reaches for his foamy coffee. "I grabbed a little surprise for dessert tonight," he says as he sets his cup down and pats his jacket pocket.

You nod and clear your throat. The simple act hurts.

"Thank you," you force out.

"Well," he hovers his hand over his plate, "dig in. It looks delicious and I'm sure you're starving."

"Uh, sure," you drone and consider the thick sandwich; a croissant stacked with turkey and swiss, a leaf of lettuce and slice of tomato peeking out.

You grab your cup instead and take a swig. You hum, "I didn't even try my tea," you distract him, "how's your coffee?"

"Good, mocha usually isn't my thing but not bad. Gotta try new things, right, dove?"

"Mhmm," you peel away the edge of the lettuce and make yourself nibble it. It tastes awful. Everything is terrible.

"Been a good day, so far, not too busy," he carries on, "how's the resume coming?"

You shrug, "not done…"

He clucks and nods, letting out a long breath. He leans forward and picks up his ham and cheddar on rye. He takes a bite as you tear away some of the croissant and pretend to chew on the end.

"So… guess we should talk," he swallows, "about your sister."

"I don't want to," you whine, "please–"

"I need to know what she said, honey. To protect you. Like last night, hm? When she sent the cops after you like some criminal."

"She was only worried," you rebuff.

"About herself. About making herself feel better by standing on your back," he puts and elbow on the table, lowering his brow in a serious way, "I tell you every day you can do anything, and what did she ever do but tell you not to even try."

You frown. Your heart is in pieces. You don't want to be here. You don't want to be anywhere.

"I'll keep working on my resume," you say, "I'll be done it soon."

He huffs and sniffs at his sandwich before taking another bite. He is silent as he swallows, his gaze weighing on you.

"We can get a box if you wanna take that back with you. No eating in the stacks but just don't let anyone see."

"Thank you, Andy," you say, "I'll be hungry later for sure."

"Mhmm," he taps his foot under the table, letting the silence hang.

You cross your arms and sit back, looking past him to the street again. You wish you had somewhere to be with a briefcase, or were running to catch a bus, you wish you had any purpose but to be a burden.

🕊️

You put the casserole in as Andy mutters to himself and flips through the channels. He says there's some ball game on. You're happy he at least had something to fill the void of your conversations.

You wait in the kitchen. You watch the timer countdown and when it dings you take out the pan. You set it on the counter and scoop out a healthy helping into a plate. You take a fork and knife and rest it on the rim, going to stand in the archway that looks into the front room.

"Do you wanna eat here or at the table?"

Andy looks over, his arm stretched over the back cushion of the grey couch.

"I'll come eat with you," he volunteers as he sits forward.

"No, it's okay. I'm going to lay down… I have a headache."

"A headache? I have advil," his forehead creases with concern.

"Already took something. I think it's going to rain…"

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I… was looking forward to eating together."

"It's okay. Tomorrow," you promise, "please, enjoy and watch your game."

His mouth slants as you approach and put the plate on the coffee table. You feel uneven and wobbly. You just want to sleep until you can't wake up.

"I'm sure I'll feel better tomorrow," you step back and hide a yawn behind your hand.

"I hope so," he says, "I'll check on you before I turn in. Just to make sure you're okay."

"You don't have to…"

"I want to," he insists, "you know where to find me if you need anything.'

You slowly back away. You turn and drag your feet to the door. You don't need anything but to be alone.

[whump-imagines]

Ice

Will & reader (could be platonic or early relationship.)

900 words

For anyone else who was missing a certain red head on Wednesday...

You felt like Bambi trying to make your way across the parking lot toward the hospital. Between sleeping through your alarm and the icy road conditions you were running very late for your shift. In your haste to get out of the house, you’d thrown on your regular shoes rather than your boots.

About halfway to the door your tractionless shoes slipped and you took a full cartoon style fall– both feet up in the air to land hard on your back. The hit knocked the wind from your lungs and it took a moment to suck in a breath.

Seconds later, the pain registered. Your back and head hurt. Before you could even think of what you should be doing next, Will was kneeling beside you.

“Don’t move,” he said. He started to run his fingers down either side of your neck in search of any abnormalities. “You hit your head pretty good. Does it hurt?”

You coughed, your lungs still trying to function properly. “Uh, yeah. My back too, kinda like up between my shoulders.”

“Okay, can you squeeze my fingers?” He placed two fingers against both your palms and you did as he'd asked. “Good, and push against my hands like you're pushing the gas pedal.” Again, you did as asked.

“Fuckin’ ice,” you muttered quietly.

“Okay. Do you think you can sit up?” Will asked.

You took another deep breath. “Yeah.” He offered his hand and very slowly pulled you into a seated position. You closed your eyes tightly as dizziness set in. “Woah.”

“Talk to me, sweetheart.”

You peeled your eyes open, locking into his concerned ones. “Just dizzy. Really dizzy.”

“You probably have a concussion,” Will suggested.

A shiver ran down your spine. “Yeah, well, won't matter if I freeze to death out here.”

Will chuckled. “We are going to move slowly. I don't need you passing out because you stood up too quickly.” He shifted so he could stand to help you up. “Ready?”

“Yup.” You winced as you straightened up, pain flaring through your back. You took half a step to get closer to Will and your feet slipped slightly. You gripped onto his arm so tightly your knuckles turned white.

“Okay, you're okay. I got ya.” He started to walk slowly and carefully towards the doors.

Once you made it to dry flooring, you sighed in relief. Will kept your hand wrapped around his arm as he headed towards the nurses station.

“Hey, Mags,” he greeted. “What's open? She took a hard fall outside.”

“Oh, sweetie.” She rubbed your shoulder gently. “Take treatment one.”

“Thanks,” said Will. “Can I get thoracic and cervical spine x-rays and a head CT?”

“And something for the pain? Please?” You asked.

“Let's get 50 micrograms of fentanyl, too,” Will added. “Oh, and a warm blanket.”

“You got it,” Maggie noted all the requests in the tablet she was holding. “Any blood work?”

“No, just the scans for now.”

About an hour later, you had finished all the scans and were trying your best not to doze off under your second warm blanket. April had brought a new one when she'd come to check your vitals.

Will came in with the tablet in his hands. “How're you feeling? In too much pain?”

You gave him a thumbs up. “I'm possibly too comfy. I'm fighting the nap hard.”

“Good news then. You can nap shortly,” he said.

“Yay!” You said lazily.

“You do have a mild concussion,” he explained. “As well as two bruised ribs. So you're stuck here for observation until at least tomorrow but you can sleep if you want.”

“Well that's gonna hurt tomorrow. Awesome,” you added sarcastically.

Will squeezed your hand gently. “At least nothing is broken. Get some rest, alright?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, already giving into the pull of sleep.

You had no idea how much time had passed when you woke up. It seemed a safe guess that the pain was what had roused you. It felt like someone was digging a knife into your shoulder blade and breathing made it even worse.

You groped around the bed for the call button as tears welled in your eyes. A moment later, you found it and proceeded to push it several times. April pushed the curtain back soon after.

“You're awake,” she stated.

A tear rolled down your cheek. “It hurts. It hurts a lot. I feel like I can't even breathe.”

She quickly moved closer and took your hand. “Just squeeze as hard as you need to. Take slow breaths.” Within a few minutes she had calmed you down quite a bit. “I'm gonna go find someone to get you something for the pain. I'll be right back.”

She leaned out the door and you heard her tell someone that you needed something for pain. Will came in a second later and gave April a dosage for morphine.

“That should help,” he started. “I'll make sure to get you a prescription before we send you home too. Sound good?”

“Thanks, Will,” you said. He took your hand. “What would I do without you?”

He laughed. “Probably would have just frozen to death in the parking lot. So my shift is over soon and you're getting moved upstairs. What do you say to some pizza and a movie?”

“Ooh, yes. Please! Hamburger, bacon and extra cheese for me.”

“Okay. I'll see you upstairs in an hour or so.”

[moonlit-imagines]

Rekindled

Dick Grayson x Kyle!reader

warnings: guns/violence, death, brutality. like, the typical arkham game themes. not graphic, tho!! mostly mentions

a/n: this sorta takes place in the arkham knight storyline but you really dont have to know anything about that game to read this, i wanted to give enough detail bc i liked this idea and the arkham game fandom is under appreciated. also lowkey y/n is based on an oc but almost all my y/n’s are <3

prompt:

Gotham was on fire. You were dumb enough to stay behind. Selina had been MIA for longer than you were used to, and every effort of contact was futile. Last time this happened, she had been arrested and thrown into Arkham City, so it was needless to say that you were a bit worried.

Last thing she told you was that a “pretty worthless supervillain” needed her help with something, but she left it at that. Yeah, she had a habit of making herself scarce, but she was your only family and you two always kept in touch. And now that the evacuation was in effect, you felt even more uneasy.

You pulled on your suit, black leather and spandex hugging your body tighter as you zipped up. Pulled your gloves on, claws and all. Clicked the belt around your waist, equipping your small set of weapons and utilities. The headpiece was pretty simple, just some silly cat ears to match your aunt’s, along with the goggles for good measure.

Gotham was more dangerous than you’d ever seen, only delinquents like yourself roamed the streets. Except, they didn’t carry a code like you. Scarecrow caused a panic, this “Arkham Knight” had a personal vendetta to fill, the city was on its knees. Tanks were starting to load onto the islands, troops taking over buildings, and riots overwhelmed what little protection was left here. You knew a few places to go, but your best bet was the movie studios.

Panessa, Batman’s secret base with the Wayne name slapped right on the outside, it always made you smile when you saw it. You were hoping to find an ally inside, maybe someone who could help you find Aunt Selina.

And you may be thinking you’d just sneak inside like a lovely little cat burglar would, but why not try the front door. “Stray.” You spoke into the voice box and chuckled as the doors opened for you. “It’s like they were waiting for me to crawl on back.” You stepped inside and into the elevator and poked the down button, trusting the rickety old elevator to deliver you safely to the lower level.

When you stepped out, there was only one familiar face that wasn’t behind a pane of glass. Didn’t know Batman kept prisoners. “Y/N?” Robin asked from across the room, setting down his tablet to meet you halfway. “What the hell are you still doing in Gotham?”

“Selina’s missing and I didn’t want to leave without her. What’s…all this?” You motioned at the containment cells, starting to understand why there were prisoners when you noticed their Joker-esque features. The lot began to make trouble, beginning to harass and poke fun the same way that clown would.

“Ignore them. I’ll call Batman.” Tim told you. “Make yourself comfortable, I guess. You already broke in.”

“Broke in?” You scoffed. “I used the door, actually. Still have my little voice thing activated. I just had to say my name and I walked in. Kind of rude to assume I just break in just because I happen to be a burglar from time to time.” You ranted and heard a chuckle from Robin just before Batman answered his call.

“He wants to talk to you.” Tim called you over, holding out his arm in an awkward way to you could talk to Bruce.

“Tell me everything, y/n.” Batman instructed.

“Hey, good to see you, too. Uhh, yeah, so Lina said she was hired by some loser supervillain to steal something they needed. That was basically all she told me before she left, been a few days. Can’t get ahold of her.” You explained, looking over at Tim and shrugging. “She considers most of the so-called ‘supervillains’ of Gotham ‘losers,’ though, so it doesn’t really narrow it down.”

“Okay. Stay at the movie studios. I’ll look into it.” Batman hung up just like that and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m not allowed to leave either. This…” Robin motioned to the Joker lookalikes, “is what Joker left behind in his death. All that infected blood from Arkham City, it wasn’t all caught, and I have to find a cure.” Robin went back to his tablet and you sat on a nearby chair. “Catwoman tell you much about the City?”

“Only that it was a shithole and Two-Face is a loser.” You started scrolling through the computer before you, reading little lab notes here and there. “How’s Oracle?”

“She’s in the city, of course. Refused to evac, wanted to help, but no one expected anything less.” Robin noticed you snooping, but let you continue. “Nightwing’s okay, too.” Your eyes peeked to the side and your brows raised. “Well, not really. Ego’s bruised since Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy kicked his ass the other night.” You laughed out loud, quite amused by the news.

“Good, he probably needed it.” You leaned back in the chair. “You know, I could probably help out there.”

“I already tried, Batman said to stay here.” Tim sighed.

“I don’t work for Batman. Maybe I wanna go kick some ass and try to find my aunt.” You explained, only half-jokingly. If was only seconds after that projections of the Riddler showed up all over Gotham. “Oh, brother. Not this guy.” You groaned, watching Nygma go on about his plan until Catwoman appeared on screen, causing you to bolt up and out of your chair. You would have run for it now if not for his explicitly telling you to stay away.

“Oh, and Stray, dear? Keep away, please. This is for Batman and Batman only, and if you get too close I might just…oh, well, you know.” Riddler chuckled at the insinuation that he’d detonate the bomb around Selina’s neck. Robin looked to you, noticing you were completely flush as you watched the broadcast.

“Y/N, he’s won’t let Nygma do anything to her. Try to stay calm.” Tim tried to snap you out of it, which only caused you to transition from fear to rage, jumping up from the chair and pacing around to keep from hitting him.

“Just…shut up, T—Robin. Shut up.” Your claws were drawn and you were steadying your breathing before things got ugly for everyone. More taunts were thrown at you from the Joker-infected and you needed to get the hell out of here, so you headed for the elevator.

“Wait, hey! Y/N, you can’t go out there, it’s not safe.” Robin jogged up beside you, but you ignored him. “You can’t save her right now, Riddler is obsessed with besting Batman. You can’t interfere or it’s over.” You stepped into the elevator and just as you were about to press the button, “Dick is in the city.” You paused.

“Why do I care?” You rolled your eyes and watched Robin pull a wrist communicator from his belt.

“You care.” He handed you the comm. “You can call any of us with that. We have our locations on, too. Keep in touch.”

“Where is he?” You sheepishly asked, looking down at your boots. You knew Tim had a stupid, told-you-so smirk on his face.

“Near the docks, he’s working on something. He’ll probably need your help.” Your eyes sort of lit up when you heard that, but you quickly took yourself back to reality knowing Tim was just trying to make sure you weren’t alone out there. For Dick’s sake.

You were still considered apart pf the family, even if Selina and Bruce weren’t a thing at the moment and you and Dick had gone your separate ways. You still caught yourself thinking about Dick Grayson often, wondering what could have been, what you would have done differently, why you guys even chose to leave. Sometimes it made sense, sometimes you struggled not to pick up the phone.

But now you stood on the rooftop of Panessa Studios, looking out to a city in ruins. A city in need of saving. As much as you respected Bruce, there’s no way you believed he could do this all alone. And if he was going to save your aunt, maybe you should lend a helping hand in the meantime. You fiddled with the device on your wrist, trying to get the hang of the new model communicator until you found Nightwing’s contact programmed in. Clicking the button made your stomach drop, you froze up as the line rang.

This comm was given to you, but wasn’t updated in the system as yours, so Nightwing answered the message from Batcom #1 and was shocked to see your beautiful face waiting for his answer. “Y/N! Are you…are you still in Gotham?” Dick’s calling of your name was embarrassingly high-pitched, but he recovered it upon his question. “Please tell me you’re not here.”

“Dick, I’m wearing cat ears and my aunt is being held hostage at the moment, of course I’m here.” You sarcastically answered, just like he remembered. “Tim gave me this thing, said I could go help out if I wanted. Just have to stay away from Riddler stuff for the night.” You explained, showing the Panessa Studios sign in the background.

“Yeah?” You could see Dick’s smile, like he and Tim knew exactly how to plan and you just wouldn’t figure it out. But despite this cold, brutal night, you felt all warm and fuzzy inside when that smirk grew on his face, you knew he was happy to have this opportunity. “I kind of need a partner for what I’ve got going on, Penguin’s doing something shady down by the docks. Wanna join me?”

“I could get behind that.” He sensed a bit of flirtation in your voice. “Meet you there?”

“I’m already here, why don’t I meet you in the middle? It’s really bad out here…” Dick rubbed the back of his neck nervously, thinking he’d come on too strong.

“You’re worried about me?” You chuckled and he told himself his suspicions were true. “How sweet.” You began walking to the edge of the roof, beginning to plot your path to avoid any psychopaths that may try to murder or kidnap you. “It’s not that far, I’ll be fine.” You hung up on him and he took a deep breath. Seeing his ex, probably his first love, after a long, long hiatus, it probably freaked him out more that Gotham’s takeover right now.

You barely felt the nerves he did, you knew you had a certain power over him. Not that you’d like to use it, not like you used to. Getting away with petty little crimes with your charm until you finally gave him a chance, let him show you the other side of things. Betraying that trust would put you down the wrong path once again.

Dick waited patiently for you, staring at the rooftops you may travel across to try and spot you, completing ignoring the smoke and flames from below. Running into trouble up there wouldn’t be much of a problem, everyone was busy robbing stores and shooting each other on the ground. You’d heard about some freaky bodies strung up on rooftops, some more Riddler shenanigans hidden around the place. Honestly, it didn’t surprise you much. This was Gotham City, where anything could happen.

Soon you found yourself just a few more steps from your past. You and Nightwing, both masked, stood across from each other with only a gap between buildings between you. With a graceful leap, you swung above the road and landed right beside the vigilante, who was a bit too stunned to speak, but he was the famed Dick Grayson…he doesn’t stay quiet for long. “Nice landing.” His smooth voice made you smirk involuntarily.

“Hope I didn’t keep you waiting.” You rolled your whip up and clipped it back to your belt.

“Eh, you did…but I’m willing to forgive and forget.” He quipped in his nonchalant tone, same boy you’ve always known. “Bat bossing you around?”

“Yeah, he wanted me to stay at that run-down movie studio. I really wasn’t about it.” You sighed, looking down at the arms deal below. “But I guess you know the feeling a lot better than me. I never really listened to the guy, you know?”

“Oh, I know.” Nightwing chuckled, kneeling down by the ledge. “You’re my inspiration for breaking away. Always giving Bruce shit, not taking him seriously. He hated it.”

“Hated me?” You asked him, wide-eyed.

“Actually, I think it was the reason he liked you so much back then. Usually people see him as like, an authority figure.” Nightwing explained, still observing the Penguin goons below. “And the people who didn’t listen were usually still a little afraid of him. But you were just that ‘kid’ who never quite listened and didn’t quite care.” You chuckled at some old memories that came back to you with his words. Memories of awkward patrols and first encounters with Batman and the first Robin. You and him were so young back then. So young and so hopeless.

“So you’re saying he approved of me?” You teased with a taunting smirk and poked Nightwing in the arm, causing him to scoff and roll his eyes. “Oh, yeah, the big bad Batman approved of the poor little street cat.”

“Well, as close to approval as possible. He is still a hardass.” Nightwing realized in that moment how easy it was to fall into your old ways. No awkwardness, just two people who have a bond you can’t break with time. “So, uh, these guys down here.”

“Righttt, the Penguin guys. North Refrigeration, huh? Man, you’d think Oz wouldn’t be so predictable.” You remarked as a car sped past you on the street behind, shooting an automatic rifle into the sky, but you paid little mind to it. “Remember the Iceberg Lounge? He must really like the cold.”

“He’s definitely got a gimmick.”

“Don’t we all?” You pointed to the cat ears on your headpiece and you both burst into quiet chuckles. “Are we gonna go down there or what, Dickie?” Your nickname for him made his heart flutter.

“Bruce wanted me to wait, he’s got a plan.” Nightwing sighed. “I’m only listening now because of how insane it is tonight, but I wish he’d let us handle it ourselves. He needs a break.”

“I think we all do.” You crossed your legs on the concrete rooftop and wrapped your arms around them, looking past the illegal activities below and over at the city skyline across the water. “If we all make it out of here alive, I think it’s time I leave Gotham.” You stared in silence for a few moments, pretending not to realize Dick staring at your profile. “Wanna do my thing and not listen to Bruce?” You snapped out of it and raised your eyebrows in a playful way. “You can’t say no, it’s not in my nature to listen to big strong men.”

“You wanna go bother these guys down here? They’re just doing their jobs.” He joked, getting up to play your game.

“Oh, well that’s too bad.” You shrugged, nearing the edge of the roof. “Maybe I just wanna say ‘hi.’”

“Oh, well if that’s all you wanna do.” Nightwing stood beside you and you both took a quick leap from the building to the ground, startling the group of thugs and interrupting their very important work.

“Shit! Catwoman?” One of the thugs asked before getting punched in the gut by yourself.

“Hah, he deserved that! Rest of us know who you are, Ronnie’s just a dumbass.” Another thug assured you before Nightwing shocked him with an escrima stick. You both took turns knocking around these cronies until all of them were laid out across the ground, only ones left were hiding inside of the van beside you.

“That was fun.” Nightwing nudged you with his elbow as you walked side by side to the back of this van. “We’ll have to do that again sometime.”

“How about when we find their hideout?” You suggested, knocking on the van doors. They flung open and were shocked to see two vigilantes waiting for them, then desperately drove off just as you’d planned. Nightwing grabbed you by the waist, pulled you close, and used his grapple gun to bring you both back the the rooftops so you could easily follow the van without being spotted. It was a bit off-guard, being pulled in like that, but you didn’t mind at all.

After some time and a bit of flirty remarks here and there, you both made it to the Penguin’s hideout. “You sure you’re in? There’s a lot of people in there, we can still wait for Bruce.”

“Come on, Dickie. It’s nothing we haven’t done before.” You tilted your head to have him come along with you and led him to an unconventional entrance. “It’s gonna be tons of fun, you’ll see.” You opened the rooftop vent and slid down first, crawling beneath the floor and estimating how many men you’d be going up against with your infrared goggles. Probably twenty or so, but you and Dick had trained together for a long time, it would all come back to you in an instant—you hoped.

The both of you popped out from the shadows and immediately started beating on these criminals, watching them all scramble to figure out how to react. “Told you, fun!” You called out to Dick, tossing a pair of bolas at a goon’s legs causing him to trip right into Nightwing’s roundhouse.

“Never doubted you for a moment!” Nightwing answered, pushing another thug your way so you could catch his arm with your whip, pulling his fist into his face. “Ouch! Why’d you do that, man?” Nightwing punched your victim once again. “Starting to think you like getting hurt.” The two of you continued throwing punches in sunch a calculated, synchronized way, catching a few as well. Once a thug managed to land a punch to your face, Nightwing was right to the rescue. “You okay?”

“Never better, baby.” You held your cheek and he worried you’d got a concussion for a moment before realizing you called everyone “baby.” Dazed, he also caught a punch to the back, knocking the final thug down with only his elbow. “That was it? That wasn’t even a challenge, that was a warm-up.” You told Dick, who was still kind of staring at you. “Hey, I told you I’m fine, don’t worry.” You smiled.

“It’s not that.” Dick chuckled. “It’s just, I’m thinking about what you said earlier.”

“What’d I say?” You kicked a guy’s arm away from your foot, wondering what Dick meant.

“About leaving Gotham…I’ve got an extra room at my place.” Dick shamelessly offered, but you could hear the nervousness in his voice.

“An extra room? Did you move apartments?” You raised a brow and saw his cheeks turn red under his mask.

“Uh, well…no.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his gloved hand. “I have extra room in my bed, though…if you’re down.” You stared at him, shocked and expressionless. Not many people could do that to you. “I don’t want to put you on the spot, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I don’t expect anything out of you, but y/n, I want you in my life again.”

“…What?” You quietly answered him, still dumbfounded by the sudden proposal. You absolutely loved seeing him tonight, and you loved fighting beside him, and you loved him. It was like everything was coming back together.

“I left Gotham, I left everything behind. I left you behind. And I know that was both of our decisions, but if you’d just leave Gotham with me tonight, after all of this is over, I’d like to start over with you however you’d like.” Dick and you stood below these dim string lights in this criminal base surrounded by beaten foes, piles of money, and loads of firearms. A hell of a place for a romantic speech like this. “I just realized how much I was missing without you. And all the dangers of tonight, and you and I getting stuck here. I don’t want to be apart again, y/n.” He confessed to you.

You both quietly stood there a moment, not knowing what to do. You were still sweating from the fighting that had concluded a few minutes ago. Still breathing heavy with a fast heartbeat, but now for a new reason.

You said it yourself, you wanted to leave. Tonight solidified that decision. And Selina would understand. You were a Stray, you went where it was good for you, and maybe Blüdhaven would be good for you. It wasn’t on fire nearly as much, didn’t have as many supervillains, wouldn’t give you a target on your back.

And it had him.

And he was offering you everything.

And without another thought, you took a few paces forward into his arms and pulled his face in for a deep kiss, hands carefully cupping his cheeks as not to scratch them. Dick was surprised at first, but couldn’t resist what he’d been wanting since he left for Blüdhaven. He wrapped his arms around your waist and slowly kissed you back, the passion was still there. Both of you felt it.

You pulled away slightly and gazed into his eyes, both smiling stupidly from the kiss. “Does this mean you’ll come with me? Please say it does.”

“Yeah, Dickie, I’ll come with.”

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @summersimmerus // @xoxobabydolls // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 //

[writingintheshadowsforever]

Imagine getting caught making out with Shuri in the lab

Shuri was really starting to wish that she'd just left you alone for the night, and waited for your shift to start the next morning. But after taking one look at a new design and some upgrades for the kimono beads. You had been working on for the past week. She decided that the two of you needed to get the prototype done asap.

It didn't occur to her that you might have had plans, but it really didn't matter. Because you had no problem dropping your plans in order for a last minute session with Shuri.

She just wished you would've thought to change clothes before coming to the lab. How exactly was she supposed to focus on the project? When you waltzed into the lab wearing a pair of shorts that barely covered your thighs, and short-sleeved indigo button-up shirt with only the last three buttons done. You threw on a lab coat and joined her at her work station with a smile. For a second all she could was stare as you leaned up against the table swiping the tablet.

"So you think the electrical shock would be a good addition?" You asked her without looking up.

Shuri barely heard the question and didn't answer fast enough. You glanced up at her and saw how focused she was on you. "Princess did you hear me?"

Shuri shook her head snapping out of the trance. "Um yeah electrical shock would be a great idea."

"Alright Groi can you pull the schematics up on the big screen." You said moving to stand in front of Shuri.

"Of course Ms.Y/N" The A.I. system said. The blueprint for the new kimoyo beads popped up on the giant clear screen. You went too work your hands flying across the touch screen. "So I was thinking we could go ahe-" You paused feeling a hand grip your hip. You glanced over your shoulder to see it was Shuri who had closed the distance between you two. Leaving barely any space between your bodies your breath hitched at. The lust that you could see in her eyes as she bit her lip.

"Are you trying to drive me crazy?" She whispered.

"Not really but I'm not complaining if I am." You replied with teasing smirk. You and Shuri had been doing the will they or won't they thing for a couple of months now. While you wanted nothing more than to be with her, you decided it was best to let her make the first move. Since she was the Princess of Wakanda and all, but Shuri held off on revealing her feelings for you. Unsure if you felt the same way or if you were just being flirty with her. Not to mention she figured now wasn't the best time for her to be in a relationship. But if there was one thing both of knew was sure of. It was the sexual tension whenever the two of you worked together in close proximity with each other.

Usually Shuri didn't have a problem keeping her hands, or thoughts to herself. But usually you and her didn't work in the lab this late at night when it was completely empty, and you weren't showing this much skin.

"For Bast's sake y/n I only have so much willpower" She murmured against your ear.

"Personally I think that's the problem Princess" You said with a light shrug. The next thing you knew Shuri turned your body around so you were facing her, and her lips crashed into yours in feverish and passionate kiss. Immediately your hands came up to rest on her neck while you leaned in returning the kiss. The saying about fireworks going off in your head didn't do you any justice right now. As your lips moved in sync with hers, both of you pouring as much emotion into this one kiss. That you could muster you wanted Shuri to know just how long you had been waiting for this very moment. Her hands stayed on your hips in the beginning, but at some point they started roaming lower.

You let out a small gasp feeling her warm hands touch the back of your thighs. She smirked taking the opportunity to slip her tongue inside of your mouth. The battle for dominance didn't last long as you gave in almost immediately. Shuri nudged you backwards until your back hit the work table, and with her assistance you hopped onto it. The kiss was broken for the first time after a full three minutes, not only to give both of you a breather. But so she could knock away all the papers and equipment in your way. You waited until she was done then scooted backwards, and parted your legs. Shuri moved to stand in between them with a playful smirk on her lips. One of her hands came up to rest upon your cheek, and just like that her lips were back on yours. Her other hand started popping the buttons of your shirt, and you smiled into the kiss. If you had known this is all that it would've took to get her to cave. You would've done it months ago.

For a while nothing else existed in the world except the feel of her lips on yours, and the electric feeling shooting through your body as her hands roamed all over. One of your hands were tangled into her curls that would brush up against your face every now and then. While your other hand rested on her shoulder with your arm wrapped around her neck. At some point you leaned back too far and a set of vials crashed to the floor shattering upon impact. Shuri broke the kiss to look over your shoulder for just a second. "They were empty" she barely finished before you went back in. You would clean it up later.

"Princess Shuri I think I should inform-" Groi spoke up breaking the silence.

"Not now Groi" Shuri demanded tugging your body closer to hers by your shirt.

"But Princess you ne-" The A.I. System tried again.

"I said not now" she repeated in a tone that left no room for discussion. Her lips were now on your neck as you bit your lip suppressing a moan.

Groi didn't try to speak again after that, and thirty seconds later both of you wished. She had let him finished as the elevator doors opened for her mother and Okoye to step out. But you and her were too lost in each other to be aware of their arrival. You were trying to pull back truly curious as to what the A.I. wanted, but her lips chased yours relentlessly. You grinned into the playful kiss nipping at her lip.

"Y/N" she exclaimed breaking away with a light chuckle.

"And here I was thinking it was your technology keeping you down here all night" Queen Ramonda said.

Your eyes snapped up looking over her shoulder to see the Queen of Wakanda and the General of the Dora Milaje standing a few feet away. "Oh crap your Highness and General" You exclaimed pushing Shuri away. You dropped your head in embarrassment. Shuri cursed under her breath and turned around to face her mother. She made sure to position her body in front of yours. Hiding you from their view while you worked clumsily to button your shirt all the way up.

"Um mother what are you doing here?" She asked nervously playing with her fingers.

Queen Ramonda shook her head with a smile. "I was coming down here to make sure you weren't trying to spend another night cooped in this lab working. But I'm seeing now that work is the last thing on your mind."

"Mother please" Shuri whined.

"I'm assuming this is the girl you've been going on about for the past three months" Her mother said.

"That's her" Okoye answered before Shuri could say anything. The Princess let out a groan slapping her forehead. You were finally done making your clothes as decent as possible, and hopped off the table. You peeked out from behind Shuri to look up at her. "Wait you've talked about me with your mom."

"You're all she talks about when you're not around" Okoye told you.

"Okoye I'm never telling you anything ever again" Shuri said throwing her hands in the air. Okoye simply smirked and shot you a wink.

"Indeed y/n I have heard many things about you" Queen Ramonda confirmed.

"I hope they were all good" You replied nervously.

"Oh they were I was waiting for the day she would bring you over."

"Okay so can I please get a few minutes alone with y/n. I promise mother I will go to bed at a decent time tonight" Shuri pleaded.

"Of course my child and make sure you actually get some rest" Her mother replied with a smirk.

"Oh god" She mumbled turning back around. Her hands finding your waist as she rested her forehead on your shoulder.

Okoye let out a chuckle as her and the Queen walked back onto the elevator. You waved goodbye at them with a nervous smile as both of nodded at you.

"They're gone" You told Shuri once the elevator doors closed, and it descended upward.

Shuri lifted her head from your shoulder to look in the eyes. "I guess we should talk about this huh."

"Or we could just skip that part and go on a real date" You suggested with a small shrug.

"Oh really" She said raising an eyebrow.

"You made your feelings very obvious to me a couple of minutes ago, and if I didn't give you a good enough memo of how I felt with that kiss. Then I don't think there's much more I can do besides say it" You told her.

Shuri pressed her forehead up against yours closing her eyes. "I want to hear you say it."

Your hands came up to cup her face between the palm of your hands up. "I really really like you and I want to be with you more than anything in this world. I want to wake up in the same bed as you in the morning. I want to fall asleep in your arms. I want to hear my name on your lips as I-"

She cut off you pressing her lips to yours in brief but loving kiss. "You can save that last one for tonight."

You grinned. "Your mother told you to get some rest tonight."

"I never actually said I would now did I" Shuri said with a smirk. "Besides we can get plenty of rest in the morning."

[adhd-merlin]

“Merlin… Does it even occur to you that what you just did is not mortal magic?”

“Of course, it’s mortal magic. I’m doing it.”

Carefully – slowly – Arthur told him, “I have read almost every book on magic in Geoffrey’s vaults over the past year, and not a single one of them mentioned what you just did. The only other time I saw that was in the cave of the disir. And I’m pretty sure that those senile women weren't the ones that did it.”

Merlin drew back on his feet. “What are you accusing me of?”

“I’m not accusing,” Arthur placated. “I’m…suggesting.”

“Suggesting,” Merlin sneered. “Suggesting what?”

Arthur realized too late, the conversation he’d led them into, but he couldn’t backtrack now. Merlin would only hound him, either verbally or with glares across rooms for the next fortnight, or for however long it took Arthur to capitulate. “You implied it before, yourself. At the wellspring. You don’t die mortal deaths. It took an enchanted blade to stop your heart. Dorocha can touch you, and not kill you. Mortal poisons didn’t kill you. You’re not even the only person who's said it. Even Hubert suggested it.”

Merlin’s face wasn’t really doing anything, and neither was the rest of him. He could have been blank parchment, or an unused wax tablet. “I’m not human? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur admitted. The cold nothing of Merlin’s voice disturbed him, but not as much as the glint in his eye that spoke of smothered storms and affront. Arthur felt as if saying the idea out loud were unwise, or perhaps it was only unkind. Forbidden words best left in the dark reaches of the mind where inconvenient suspicions lay fallow, unspoken for the good of all. “Are you?”

The only indication of something amiss was that Merlin tried to hide the amber glow of his eyes by lowering them and letting his hair obscure part of his face. Arthur blinked, felt a lightening-tinted brush of air past his ear, and then he was standing alone in an empty hall.

“What – Merlin?” Arthur went to uncross his arms, but they seemed stuck. When he fumbled his cuffs around, he found them buttoned together. “That…sneaky little – childish – Merlin!” He had every intention of pursuing Merlin through the castle somehow, never mind that he hadn’t the slightest idea where to start looking, but the moment he tried to take a step, he came to his second realization. He tripped and pitched forward, thankfully not near the stairs, caught himself on his tangled hands, and rolled up against the wall. “He tied my bootlaces together, the poxy – ”

“Sire?”

Great. Yes. Witnesses to his embarrassment. That was all Arthur needed. He shoved himself to sit upright as two of his castle guards ran over to him in alarm, and grabbed at his boot laces. There were at least a dozen knots in them, which…yes. Wonderful. Point taken. 

— from The Dust of Hope, Chapter 5 by fourleggedfish

[doodlebugreturns]

The Tickle Monster

Media: Lilo & Stitch: The Series

For @fluffy-lovely-clouds

It was a beautiful morning on the island of Kauai. Jumba was in the kitchen working on his newest invention. With all his attention devoted to it, he didn’t notice Pleakley walking up to the doorway. “Jumba!” “Ow!” He exclaimed, hitting his head on a low-hanging part of his invention from being startled. “What?” “How do I look?” Pleakley asked. He was dressed as Marilyn Monroe. He was wearing a blonde, curly wig, crystal earrings, a white dress, sassy heels, and a ridiculous amount of makeup. “Like a moron.” Jumba went back to working on his invention. Pleakley sultrily walked towards his roommate, with his hands on his swaying hips. “I’ve been researching humankind’s history. Did you know that the group known as ‘females’ have been treated as property for the majority of the species’ existence? Why, this didn’t change until about only one century ago! It’s messed up, but so fascinating…” “Interesting.” Jumba remarked. “But I don’t care.” “So, what are you making?” Pleakley asked. “It is evil food dispenser. Humans are to be attracted to it by the bright colors and delicious smell. But food being offered is highly processed, genetically modified mystery meat that causes health problems to whoever consumes it. And the best part…” Jumba chuckled, “it irritates human digestive system and makes it produce foul odor!” The evil genius couldn’t help but laugh at his mischievous idea. “So… a hot dog cart?” “What?” “Yeah.” Pleakley said. “Humans have already invented those.” “Bah!” Jumba waved his hand dismissively. “I may not know all that much about humans, but I know they do not eat dogs.” “They do in other parts of the planet.” Pleakley then noticed an alluring red button. “Hey, what does this button do?” “Wait wait wait wait-“ Before waiting for an answer, Pleakley pressed the button, and the machine shot thirty hot dogs into Jumba’s mouth. “Sorry…” He spit the tasty projectiles onto the floor. The two of them looked at each other in silence for a solid six seconds. Pleakley looking sheepish and Jumba looking irritated. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” Jumba was unamused, but then, he had an idea. “I need you to locate and capture experiment 275.” Jumba pulled out an alien tablet and retrieved a picture of said experiment. “But be warned,” Jumba stuck up his finger at him. “275 has a… passion for mischief.” “Consider it done.” Pleakley saluted him and made his way out of the kitchen, still wearing his ridiculous costume. Jumba smirked behind him, knowing that his vague warning was not enough to prepare him for what experiment 275 had in store for him.

Once Pleakley was out in the wilderness and out of his silly costume, he searched for the mischievous experiment. 275 didn’t leave behind any traces of itself, so he had to get lucky. And lucky he got after finding the experiment after about 30 minutes of searching. He found the pink experiment playing with a chameleon, which had also turned pink. Upon closer inspection, the experiment seemed to be tickling it. “A chameleon being tickled pink…” Pleakley thought to himself. “That’s not something you see every day.” While experiment 275 was distracted, Pleakley slowly snuck up behind and pointed a net canon at her. He fired, capturing the little tickle monster, and also her chameleon friend by accident. “Gotcha!” Experiment 275 was confused as to what just happened to itself, and slightly distressed. Pleakley leaned towards his capture to get a better look. “Say, you’re a cute one.” With him in close range, the experiment tickled him through the net and felt better already. “Hey- haha- that tickles!” Pleakley squirmed and put his hand on the experiment’s head. “You’re silly.” 275 smiled like a happy dog. “Now, behave yourself, while I bring you back home to Jumba. You can play with your little friend.” Pleakley wagged his finger at the little tickle monster. Upon successful capture, he dragged the net behind him at a safe distance, as to not be tickled continuously on the way back. 275’s chameleon friend made it even easier. Trekking back home, Pleakley held his head up high for a job well done.

“I got it!” Pleakley proudly announced. He walked into the house, dragging experiment 275 and her little chameleon buddy behind him. “Now what?” “I don’t know, I didn’t think you would get that far.” Jumba answered. “W- what do you mean?” He asked. Jumba didn’t answer this time. It didn’t take long for Pleakley to put the pieces together. “Oh, you sent me on a wild tickle monster hunt to get back at me for annoying you earlier, didn’t you?” “Okay, you got me.” Said Jumba. “Now hand it over.” “With pleasure.” Pleakley replied. However, Jumba noticed him untying the knot on the net. “What are you doing?” Experiment 275 was now free, and jumped up and down excitedly. “275, go get Jumba!” Pleakley commanded, pointing at the target. The experiment just looked at him. The two exchanged glances before 275 smiled and pounced on him instead. “Wait, no!” Pleakley protested, before turning into a laughing, writhing mass on the floor. “No! Stop! Not there!” He laughed harder. Jumba also laughed, pointing. This caught 275’s attention. She slowed down her tickling drastically and looked at Jumba. “…Don’t look at me like that.” He started backing up. The experiment stopped tickling Pleakley, who let out a sigh of relief. She then smiled and bounced towards her creator with her spindly fingers wiggling. “Don’t you dare! I created you and I can just as easily- HAHAHAHA!” His creation tickled him indiscriminately. “NO! HAVE MERCY!” Jumba laughed loudly, knowing all too well that he programmed this thing to be a ruthless tickler. All the attention had attracted Lilo and Stitch, who were in the house. The two of them came in just to see the experiment hop off of Jumba and out of an open window, thankfully not noticing them. “It’s gettin’ away!” Pleakley exclaimed. But experiment 275 had already hopped out the window to find its next victim. Jumba groaned. “…What just happened?” Lilo asked. Stitch answered her in his gibberish-sounding language, and then told Jumba something. “I did not think it would turn on me.” Jumba answered, still lying on the floor, defeated. “Come on, we have to go find it before it tickles someone to death!” Said Lilo. “Eh.” Stitch agreed. The two of them set off to find the mischievous little tickle monster. “Now hold on a minute, you two!” Pleakley said. They stopped in their tracks. “Now how exactly do you plan on catching this thing without equipment?” He gave Lilo the net canon he used to capture the experiment earlier. “Thanks, Pleakley.” Said Lilo. Stitch then noticed the chameleon that had crawled out of the net during the chaos. He went up to the creature and picked it up, and it turned blue like him. “Good thinking, Stitch.” Said Pleakley. “You can use its lizard friend to lure it back into captivity.” Stitch watched the chameleon, clearly interested. “Ooohh…” “Now,” announced Lilo, “let’s go catch us a tickle monster.”

Experiment 625 was on patrol on the beach, wearing sunglasses and swim shorts, lounging on a beach chair, chowing down on a hoagie, and generally not doing his job. “This is the life…” he said to himself. He put his hands behind his head. A moment later, his phone rang. He opened it and held it up to his ear. “Yellow?” “625, have you found any experiments yet? It’s been thirty minutes.” Gantu said. “Nah, these things are extra elusive today.” He stretched and yawned. “Just give me a while longer and I’ll definitely have one ready for ya.” “625, no! You are wasting my time.” “Aw, just ten more minutes, pretty please?” He asked. Gantu groaned. “Fine. I don’t enjoy your company anyway.” “Don’t be so salty, ya big sardine. I’ll make you a sandwich.” There was a moment of silence. In that moment, experiment 625 noticed a bright pink creature that was definitely not part of the local fauna. “Ooh, there’s one right there!” “Don’t lie to me.” “No, I’m serious. It’s pink and bouncy and it has big ears.” He took another bite of his hoagie. With his mouth full, he said, “See you soon, buh bye.” Not paying attention, he pressed the mute button instead of hang up button before stuffing the device into his body like a pocket. “625. Experiment 625, are you there?” Gantu asked on his end. He was met with silence. Instead of hanging up, Gantu continued to listen in case he needed backup. Experiment 625 made his way towards the bouncing creature and pulled out a net canon of his own. It didn’t take long for experiment 275 to notice the newfound company. She turned toward him and he widened his eyes, before his expression turning almost grim. “You…” Experiment 275 smiled at him. Gantu, not knowing what was going on, listened in, fearing that his acquaintance was in trouble. The little tickle monster wiggled its fingers and slowly started hopping towards 625. “No… don’t you dare…” But before he knew it, the chase was on. He screamed and ran away from his impending ticklish doom. “625!” Gantu exclaimed, not being heard. He instantly made his way towards his location.

“Do you hear that?” Lilo asked. “Someone is in trouble! We have to rescue them!” Stitch replied in his alien language. “This is more important.” She told him. “Okay…” The two of them ventured towards the screaming. “We’re almost there, come on!” She pushed some big leaves out of the way. In that very moment, the screaming turned into hysterical laughter. “No! Please!” He cackled under his merciless attack. “I can’t breathe!” Lilo and Stitch looked at each other. Gantu showed up at that exact moment. He just watched in disbelief. “Hey!” Lilo shouted. Experiment 275 turned and looked, stopping mid-tickle. 625 sighed loudly. Stitch held up the chameleon and said something. The tickle monster curiously hopped towards it. She took it from Stitch’s hands and began playing with it. Lilo, watching this, had an idea. “Here,” she said. “try it slower.” She rubbed the chameleon with a perfect amount of pressure. Not too much to hurt and not too little to tickle. “Like this.” 275 took the advice, and the chameleon loved it. “Good. Now try it with him.” She pointed at 625. She hopped over to him. “Please, no more…” he weakly croaked. As 275’s hands closed in on him, he prepared for the worst. Instead, he found his shoulders being therapeutically rubbed. “Hey… this feels good.” He relaxed. “I think I’m gonna take a nap right here…” he laid down on the sand. “Good night…” Once he was snoring, Lilo congratulated her. “Good job, Tickle-tummy.” Stitch gave a thumbs up. The newly named experiment smiled. “Now follow me. I know a place where you can be of good use.” Lilo lead the way while the other two trailed behind her. She briefly looked over her shoulder. “Hi, Gantu!” He said nothing and scooped his acquaintance out of the sand and brought him back to the ship as he sleepily mumbled something about a giant sandwich.

The three of them later arrived at a spa. Tickle-tummy looked at it like a curious kitten. They went inside. “Welcome to Paradise Spa.” Said an employee. “How may we refresh you today?” “This is Tickle-tummy.” Said Lilo. “She wants to learn how to be a massager.” Stitch sat down on the floor and let Tickle-tummy do her newly acquired magic. She rolled her fingers into Stitch’s shoulders until he purred like a happy cat. “Oh my, she looks like a natural.” “But you can make her even better.” Lilo said. “I have a feeling this is where she truly belongs.” She was now rubbing Stitch’s belly and he was shaking his leg like a dog. “You’re hired, Tickle-tummy.” Said the employee. She jumped up and down excitedly. “I think you’re going to fit right in.”

On Gantu’s ship, experiment 625 had woken up from his nap. “How come you didn’t capture the experiment?” He asked. “Its antics seemed unworthy of Hämsterviel.” Gantu responded. But he had tried to capture every experiment he could in the past, even if all they did was cause minor inconveniences. 625 smirked. “Any… par’tickler’ reason?” he asked. Gantu didn’t respond. “Well, are ya ticklish? Are ya? Are ya?” He climbed on the captain’s body and started poking around. He had to stifle a laugh. “No, that’s ridiculous!” He yelled, despite squirming around. “Is that so?” 625 asked in a teasing voice. “Then why are you so wiggly?” “Shut up!” He was smiling against his will. 625 laughed. “Tickle tickle, who wants a pic-AAH!” He was launched off of the captain’s body and into a wall. “Ow… ooh, a pickle!” He noticed the tasty treat lying there, and he picked it up and ate it. When he was done, he blissfully sucked the tasty vinegar off his fingers and burped.

The end.

[reigningqueenofwords]

One Hell of a Surprise

Word count: 726

Read on AO3

Part 2 of The Unknown Stark

Hearing the elevator, you all turned to see Tony and Pepper. “Y/N/N?” He smiled.

“Hey, Dad.” You got up, moving over to him to give him a hug.

“Dad?” Came a female’s voice from behind him. You paused just a foot or two in front of him and looked to his right as the sound of heels could be heard. “Tony doesn’t want brats.” She smiled, her right hand on his chest, the fingers on her left hand moving through the hair on the back of his head.

You looked towards Pepper who gave you a sad smile, letting you know that she was on your side. Licking your lips, you looked towards Tony and whoever the hell this woman was. “Yeah, Dad.” You snapped back.

She raised an eyebrow at you, and the first thing that came to mind was that she went from kinda snotty looking, to looking like a huge bitch. “Sweetie, I think you have the wrong guy. I’ve been seeing Tony for almost 6 months. I’m sure that he would have mentioned any kids.” She sounded like she was giddy almost.

“Wow. 6 months. A record, Dad.” He hadn’t said anything, but sighed at that.

Tony motioned for her to follow him, moving just into the other room. “She’s telling the truth. Y/N/N is my daughter.” He told her.

“WHAT?!” Everyone looked towards the door except Pepper, who simply stayed where she was sitting, scrolling through e-mails on her tablet.

“Oh, she gets louder. Trust me.” She muttered. “Be thankful you haven’t heard that.”

You made a face when you realized what she was talking about. “Dude. Ew.”

Not too long after, she came storming back through, her heels clicking wildly on the floor. She huffed as she pressed the down button over and over. Tony followed her, his hands in his pockets. “Come on, must you be so dramatic?” He asked.

She shot him a glare. “I don’t like being lied to. You said you didn’t want children.”

“Technically, I didn’t lie.” He shrugged. “I don’t want children. I just never brought up that I have a daughter…who is not a child. She’s a teenager, giving me more grey hairs than I should have.” Tony joked.

“We’re over, Tony!” She told him, stepping into the elevator, arms crossed.

Once the doors dinged, Pepper looked up. “Shame. We wore the same size shoe.” She gave him a smirk, making him chuckle. “However, now that that’s out of the way, it’s good to see you, sweetie.” She smiled, getting up to give you a hug.

“Nice to see you, too, P.” You returned the hug.

Tony sighed. “Why didn’t you give me a bit of warning?” He asked you as you pulled away from Pepper. “I didn’t have any idea you were coming to visit.”

Your stomach dropped. “You always said that I had complete access to Stark Tower, never mentioned I needed to tell you. It’s not like you’re ever here.” You pointed out. “What, was there some clause for that? ‘Access is limited when Dad’s groupies are here’?”

“Now, listen here, young lad-” He started getting stern, pointing his finger at you.

Nat came over and put her arm around you, cutting him off. “Shut it, Tony.” She glared. “Come on, you can stay with me until your father gets you an actual room.”

“Did it sound like I’m done with her?” He asked, annoyed.

You and Nat were on the elevator, your bag in her hand. Her eyes were harsh as she looked at Tony. “I’m locking my floor down.” She told him, pressing the down button.

“Thanks, Nat.” You said quietly, giving her a sad smile.

She smirked, nudging you with her shoulder. “No problem.” Nat glanced up at the numbers as they changed before saying anything else. “I’ve never thought to ask- why don’t you have your own room here?” Her brows were furrowed when she looked back at you.

You shrugged. “Why would I? I’ve never needed one.” You told her honestly. “Either he came to see me now and then, or I’d talk to him on the phone, or facetime. He’s always busy, not like he had time for me to come spend the weekend or something.” Nat could see that it bothered you more than you’d admit, so dropped it.

[staticl0ve]

Dollhouse - Chap 4 - Connor x Fem!Reader

Pairings: Connor/Female Reader Rating: Explicit/NSFW 18+ Story (AO3): [ Read on AO3 ] Chapters 5/5 (Tumblr): [ Chap 1 ] [ Chap 2 ] [ Chap 3 * ] [ Chap 4 * ] [ Chap 5 ] Words: 3.7k Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, PnV, mild breeding kink, so mild Summary: Elijah’s in need of a house sitter and what better than asking his step sibling to water the plants and run a few tests. After all, how hard could pressing a few buttons on a tablet be? Alternative AU.

Chap 4 - Beauty and the Machine*

Tonight was a night for celebration, a party to toast the man of the year: Elijah Kamski and his company’s fifth anniversary. Heels clacked over marble flooring as guests of a gala passed through white Grecian pillars. Above the crowds was a domed ceiling with painted scenes and gold moulding, framing an equally impressive sparkling chandelier. Mouthwatering appetizers wafted by in the arms of waitstaff dressed in black and white formal. People clamored around tiny tables covered in delicate, glittery cloth. A string quartet played a whimsical classical song as champagne flutes clinked.

“Cheers!” the party goers all cried out in unison.

You joined them silently, raising your glass to the air and then to your lips. The champagne was a good vintage, the sharp tang fizzing across your tongue. Hidden away from the crowds, you were happily situated on a balcony above the noise. A railing supported most of your weight while you nursed your drink, the best part of tonight. Your beaded gown felt tight, too revealing in places and your heels taller than you’d liked.

You wanted to go home.

Too much of the evening was spent catering to the egos of guests who were enchanted by your presence. All of the more than eager to use you as stepping stone to Elijah.

The attention was endless.

Some tore you apart with their eyes, scrutinizing every inch of your appearance, only to go soft when they realized the woman in Elijah’s arms was his sister. Their smiles were polite, the light never quite reaching their eyes.

“I didn’t know Kamski had a sister!”

“Stepsister,” you corrected them.

It was one guest after the other, some more familiar than they should be. You caught the eye of a pair of older millionaires seeking to expand their family empire.

“Oh, you pretty little thing, you know we’ve got a son…”

Sisyphus wouldn’t survive an evening in your shoes.

“Hey, so hear me out. Me and my buddy have this app…”

“Excuse me, I need to go powder my nose,” you interrupted.

Did anyone still call it that in this decade?

The gentleman you were speaking to blinked and politely dipped his head. “Of course…!”

It was a wonder you managed to sneak up the grand staircase and duck behind a curtain to your hiding spot, too tired and drunk to humor anyone else. The curtain behind you rustled and your nose caught the scent of Elijah’s favorite cologne long before he spoke. He always had an uncanny ability to locate you no matter where you ran off to.

“Are you enjoying the party?” he asked.

“S’fine,” you shrugged.

He leaned over the railing, a set of icy blue eyes scanning the lively party below. Someone had the idea to start a conga line, their laughter and drunken slurring of the words “conga, conga, conga” drowning out the delicate string instruments.

“They won’t bite,” he said while stealing your champagne flute away.

“Hey—!”

He fixed a playful look at you, adding a small shake of his head. You could hear the inaudible “tut-tut.”

“Go,” he coaxed. “Have some fun, try the conga line. Live a little.”

“I did,” you stubbornly resisted. “I got bored when one guy started talking about his fleet of yachts.”

You tried to snatch your glass back but Elijah was quick, rotating his wrist to catch it in his other arm.

“Just let me know when you want to go home,” you huffed.

He hummed and you followed his gaze to a pair of models down below. One waved and the other winked.

“Don’t wait for me. There’s a car outside whenever you’re ready to go,” he said.

As quickly as he appeared, he vanished behind the curtains, the gentle swishing the only evidence that he even came to see you.

Oh.

He took your champagne, too.

Reluctantly, you descended the ornate staircase and dodged dancing guests to the find the shortest path to a waitstaff serving alcohol. You tripped on a wet spot, or someone’s dress, either way, the world was suddenly spinning faster than you could keep up with it.

A hand grasped your wrist, tugging you gracefully into a firm chest. A navy suited arm braced your shoulders and you followed the pressed collar of his suit past his white linen shirt and black tie to a…freckled face.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Hello, Prince Charming.

“Yes…” You think you said it or mouthed it. The floor and ceiling tilted and bent in your vision as you scanned the decorative paintings…the gold trim…the chandelier. You could see yourself lost in the sea of swirling dancers as if you were still standing at the balcony. He spoke again and your focus warped back to his shirt and tie.

“Do you dance?” he inquired with a smile.

You scoffed, suddenly more sober than you were earlier.

“Actually, n—”

It was a mistake to look up, finding yourself lost in a pair of honey brown eyes. There was no malice behind them, just curiosity and a glint of amusement.

“…Ngh—yeah. Sure. Why not?” you answered.

A light tune, Rêverie by Claude Debussy, began. He took a cue from the changing music and led you across the dance floor. One of his hands slipped behind your back while the other held your arm out to guide you in a series of turns. Your hips were attached by a pair of magnets, flowing left, right, forwards, and backwards. His cologne was present and not overwhelming, a light masculine scent with a sharp metallic tinge. A man made of metal or a fake tie clip?

You spun with him, the pace of the song picking up fast enough that you could feel a breeze tickle your neck. When you took a step back, he followed, pushing his leg flush to your hips. There wasn’t a moment where you couldn’t feel him somewhere on your skin, especially when his palm on began inching down from your shoulders. Strong, firm fingers pressed into your skin, mapping out one bump to the next along your spine.

“That’s funny,” he said while dipping you.

You gasped at the unexpected loss of your center of gravity, gripping his arms for balance. He held you like you weighed nothing and brushed his nose over yours, his exhale heating your lips as he laughed.

“W-What’s so funny?” you stammered.

“Have you seen the tree they’ve brought in?”

His head shifted and you turned to find a large cherry tree had made a home in the center of the room. Guests stepped in perfect time to the music, forming a swirling formation right below the falling foliage.

“How did that get here?“ you gasped.

He smiled, all sunshine and dripping with honey. “You should look more closely at it when you have a chance.”

Your face twisted in confusion. This man was crazy and yet…you glanced back at the tree and it looked closer or bigger than than it was before. Dancers parted, revealing a sizable burl in the otherwise perfect bark. The corners of his mouth dipped as warm fingers caressed your cheek.

“When you dream…it’s not always this pleasant, is it?” he asked.

You breathed out his name, even though he had not given it yet.

“No harm will come to you as long as I am here,” he promised while bringing your hand up to his lips for a kiss. “Sleep.”

-

What were dreams if not a mosaic of memories and the subconscious working together to create mind bending, nonlinear narratives? On nights when you could not rest, were the sheep you counted covered in wool and prancing over your pillow? Or were they powered by electricity, spinning around like figurines in a carousel?

When you woke, it was one of those coming back into your body experiences where you could only feel one limb at a time. First, it was the arm trapped beneath your pillow, then the other which was tangled in someone else’s limbs. Connor’s hand loosely gripped yours against your chest, the synthetic skin warmer than usual and faintly buzzing. A firm chest covered your back, his weight a welcome comfort.

Through android instinct or sheer luck, he sensed something amiss, choosing to greet you by laying kisses down the column of your neck. A leg pressed between yours, the android tangling himself around you like a blanket. He let go of your hand to wrap an arm around your middle as his other threaded into your hair.

“Bad dream?” he asked.

Through the thick and groggy haze of waking up, you noticed it instantly, a change in the endlessly evolving machine. Connor did not seem to tire, always sounding alert and refreshed no matter the circumstance. Today was different, his voice was lower, rough and scratchy like his vocals cords were warming up.

You brought the back of your hand to rub your eyes. “No, at least…I don’t think so. I tend to forget my dreams when I wake up.”

Rolling away from the sunny side of the bed, you snuggled yourself back into his embrace. Your palm pressed flat on his chest. A light vibration from his hardware rumbled like a cat’s purr. Thoughtlessly, you leaned in to peck soft kisses down the notch between his collarbones and to the center of his chest where the buzzing was it’s strongest. His breath hitched when you flicked your tongue in a swirl over the skin. It was nice seeing a machine stutter from such a small act. Everything you did to Connor seemed to bring him some form of easy pleasure. Regardless of his purpose, it still delighted you to know you could provide something in return.

“I think it was a nice dream,” you concluded and rose back up to kiss his lips.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he replied while nuzzling his face to yours. One part of his anatomy was eager enter the conversation, prodding at your stomach in a not so subtle reminder of its existence. You made a noise caught between a laugh and a gasp, your brain still shaking off the fog of dreamland.

He sprung on you regardless, covering your body with his. Your back sunk into the mattress, hair twisting beneath your head. The kiss was hot, wet and sloppy, his lips claiming yours with a thrilling desperation. Your mouths were a stage, your tongues wrestling to and fro. You cheated, nipping his tongue gently, a victory short lived when he pulled away in surprise. The softness was gone, honed by a sharp, never ending hunger brimming over the pupils of his eyes.

“May I have you?” he pleaded in a tone that implied he’d been patiently waiting all night. As if you needed more convincing, his fingers whispered between your thighs, tracing faint lines up your skin to the bundle of nerves below.

Your legs were falling apart before you could get the words out.

“Yes…yes, Connor.”

The bedsheets tugged upwards with him as he rose up to slot his hips between your legs. His knees spread out, pressing against the meat of your thighs, pushing them further apart. You couldn’t hold back a gasp when he bucked his hips, the cold tip of his wet length gliding over your warm folds. Your moan was crushed between his mouth as he ground into you with whimpers of his own.

“S-so…good,” he slurred, already drunk on your warmth.

It was agonizing when he grazed your entrance, only to proceed to slip up past it, the blunt head of his cock teasing your swollen bud repeatedly. He continued moving in slow seesawing motions, the friction pulling a tight knot in your abdomen. A bow would snap if it held the same tension you had in your spine. You were more than ready, on the verge of begging.

Maybe Connor didn’t know that he needed to put it in.

“Connor,” you huffed out, biting your lip to fight a smile. Perhaps, you’d have to show him how the birds and the robot bees worked.

His eyes snapped to meet yours, the brown lost behind the squint of a guilty and self-satisfied smile.

“Preparation is important,” he answered sheepishly, completely ignoring how your hips canted to change the course of his next thrust. How were you expecting to outsmart machine precision? You writhed with a helpless moan.

“You’re so pretty like this,” he whispered, staying completely still above you. “I…I could do this forever.”

“Con…”

The rest of his name was cut off by his lips covering yours as he lined himself up to you, the tip of him nudging gently at your core. He almost entered you when his face pulled away with a gasp. Pink dusted over his cheeks as his hips hovered over yours. Two strong hands cradled your face on the pillow.

“I…I want to see you. When I…when…” he muttered, distracted and overwhelmed already.

You were a little worried actual sex might break him, but if you were being honest with yourself, you were in no better shape. Sweat beaded down your back as you wiggled beneath him to wrap your legs around his narrow waist. Your nails scraped into the back of his neck and while you couldn’t dent or break his skin, he got the message.

Taking the lead, he tilted his hips, easing himself slowly into you. His optics moved in tiny fluttery movements, like a camera tracking a target as he studied your face. It would have been unnerving if it weren’t for the loud, open mouthed moan that erupted from his lips. He was barely in you, the tip of him stretching and holding you open. Even with all of his preparation, it was a slow process. His hips pulled back, coating himself in more of your slick and diving further in a second attempt.

“You’re s-so tight…” he whined as the blue on his head shifted red.

Your hands threaded through his soft hair, kneading until his eyes pinched shut.

“You’re doing so well,” you spoke, pressing a kiss to his pink cheeks as he melted, moaning softly and pushing deeper.

He propped himself up onto his elbows, tilting his head down to watch him disappear inch by inch until your hips fused together. The act alone seemed to have wiped him out as his head fell to your chest.

“I…you…you feel so…s—“ he said through a wall of static, his biocomponents working overtime, clicking and whirring in his chest.

You palmed his cheek, thumb drawing circles on synthetic flesh as bits of it turned white to your touch. “I know…you feel amazing, Connor.”

He was still whining, panting and cycling air while his forehead rested firmly against your sweaty chest. Slowly, he eased out and back in, mouth agape as you let him claim you again and again. Once your calves tightened around his waist, he got a little braver.

One second you were mostly on the mattress and the next, his arms wrapped around your lower back to lift you off the bed. Your knees pressed to your chest and all you could do was place your arms over his shoulders and cling to him. He moved with a calculated intensity, keeping you on the edge with cycles of deep, angled thrusts. You didn’t have to worry about damaging his ears as you cried out loudly from underneath him. He experimented with slower and deeper thrusts, discovering that he could savor the heat of your core, the way you pulsed and molded to him. His eyes fluttered and rolled as he finally found the adjective he’d been struggling find.

“P-perfect,” he gasped. “You feel…perfect.”

He held you open like a man with all the carnal and animalistic intention of breeding a willing female. No matter how human he seemed, Connor never failed to remind you that he didn’t exist on a food chain. Mechanical noises emitted from his voice box, sharp and clear even while his mouth was shut. The flesh tone vanished from his hands, smooth, white plastic digging into your spine. He did not sweat nor did the momentum of his hips falter. He was a machine moving with a purpose.

And you loved it.

“Fuck, Connor!”

You were close and he could sense it. The familiar but still alien sensation of his rubbery padded fingers working it’s way between your legs. A deep, guttural sound ripped out of his mouth—possessive and almost demanding.

“Let me…let me see it. I want to see it,” he breathed harshly.

At some point, his hair had fallen over his eyes, blackened orbs glinting between strands of brown hair with an unwavering, singular focus.

Ah, to be the sole affection, the apple of an android’s eye.

The covers draped over his shoulders like a dark cape, rustling down his back with every harsh thrust. You were overheating, writhing with your eyes shut in a sauna of your own sweat. Connor was having none of it, his voice spoke without interference, clear enough to feel like you could hear it in your head.

“Look at me,” he said slowly and calmly, stretching the three words to convey the depths of his devotion.

You tried, bleary eyed while drawing in short gasps of air. A pressure on your back pushed your chest flush with his. His lower jaw trembled as he silently mouthed words he wasn’t sure he could say.

“I…I want to remember this…in case…I don’t see you again,” he stammered.

With the high functioning part of your mind positively fucked out of the universe, you weren’t sure what prompted you to reply, but you did.

“You w-will….Ah—you will!”

It seemed to mollify him, a sweet smile dimpling his cheeks. He laid a kiss on your lips, his grin still present throughout.

“Then…cum for me. Please.”

You could feel him all around you, a cage of plastic that knew your body better than an old lover. Initially, his presence was as persistent and inconvenient as the falling snow, blanketing you with no end in sight. Long gone was his formality and your doubts about a machine companion. He was an oddity, awkward at times and beguiling when he didn’t mean to be. Connor was the only one of his kind, beckoning…begging, pleading for a companion. From one lonely soul to another, it would be cruel to deny him.

You heard him ask again, a string of pleas from a gasping, blushing face. He had propped himself on an elbow, leaning most of his weight to one side in order to cup the back of your head. Your muscles knotted around him and you think that might be what would break him as his LED bled red once again.

“Yes, let me—” he groaned, driving his hips in more wildly. “Let me feel it.”

With a shudder, your peak came and lingered in a plateau of weightlessness until Connor nuzzled his hips to yours and with a nip at your shoulder, he followed suit. He was an incoherent whimpering mess, hot exhaust burning onto your skin as he twitched and throbbed. There was a horrid mess between your thighs as the android’s hips never really stilled, too busy watching in awe as his release dripped out and plugged back in with a forward thrust.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, already recovered before you were. You moaned softly, still wound up from earlier. A proud smirk tilted up his lips. “I may have been a little excited. You must be drenched.”

“I wonder who’s fault that is,” you replied dryly with a grin of your own.

You brought your hands to tuck a curl that dangled over his eyes. His brows dipped and a small pinch pushed them together as his smile faded, the gentle intimacy replaced with a bittersweet energy. The blankets had slipped off and the cool air blew over your damp skin. He sat up so your legs could collapse onto the bed and came back to press his chest against yours. A weak moan left your lips as he slid back into you with little resistance, keeping still for the moment. Surprisingly, nothing ached, except for the little strings tugging at your heart.

“Just…one more,” he asked.

Your palm pushed at his chest and his head only tilted at you in confusion. 

“Lie back,” you coaxed.

He wrapped his arms around you and rolled over, somehow managing to not slip out of you. You took your time, slowly grinding your hips down as he shuddered and moaned, letting you use him for your end. He seemed blissed out, head buried in a soft pillow, eyes and mouth half opened. The new angle was somehow deeper and hitting a new sweet spot as you rocked against him.

Without breaking eye contact, you placed a hand beside his head, holding most of your weight on it and with your other hand, stroked his cock as it left your core. You hovered over him, pulling him out to the tip while loosely twisting your wrist, knowing full well he could grip your hips and change the pace. Instead, his hands roamed up your sides, gently kneading your breasts. He rolled and pinched a nipple, smirking slightly when you whimpered and clenched around him. As crowded as it was down there, he managed to wrestle his hand through to stroke your clit.

There was a mischievous glint in his eyes like he knew something you didn’t.

“C-Connor! That’s not f-fair!” you cried out as his fingers buzzed. Your legs wobbled, collapsing back onto him until he was buried to the hilt. His other arm came to stroke your back, or hold you in place, either way, he wasn’t moving from beneath you. His fingers wouldn’t let up, circling your nerves as the intensity of the vibrations grew.

“Oh—f-fuck!” you cried out, fisting the sheets until your knuckles went white.

What you didn’t realize was that his delicate sensors could be tuned to different sensitivity levels, and with your next cry, as another climax washed over you, he could finish from that alone. He looked marginally apologetic when you recovered.

“Was that satisfactory?” he asked sweetly. 

Your nails bit into his thighs and your eyes rolled into another dimension. He probably didn’t mean to sound so cheeky.

“Yes, it was,” you replied. You gently stroked up his legs, thumb catching on all the divots in his body—the dip of his hip bones and the valleys between sculpted muscle. Your head came down to rest on his chest with the side effect of shifting your hips over his. His cock twitched in interest and you wondered if he was related to a certain rabbit branded battery.

“Please,” Connor urged, already in the act of rolling you over onto your back.

“One more and then we shower,” you laughed.

“One more,” he repeated.

One last tumble in the sheets before the day went on and Connor’s destiny would be out of your hands, left to the unknown.

It felt too soon for goodbyes.

[lumiolivier]

A Little Bit of Ecstasy

Day 24 of 31 of Kinktober

Prompt: Drugs

Word Count: 1051

Matt got a little something, something from one of the guys down at their loading dock. Why not give it a try?

“Hold on, hold on,” Mello sat at the edge of his bed with a little white tablet in his hand, “What’s this supposed to do again?”

“Relax, Mels,” Matt rolled his eyes, already peeling his shirt off, “It’s just a little bit of ecstasy.  It’s not like I’m trying to poison you.  If I were going to do that, I’d be much more creative about it.  And I wouldn’t just be handing it to you directly.”

“Aww,” Mello fell back into the pillows, “You really do love me, don’t you, Matt?”

“Last time I checked,” Matt tossed Mello a half empty bottle of Gatorade, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“We’ve had worse ideas on how to kill a Thursday night,” Mello shrugged, “When did you manage to score ecstasy?”

“One of the guys on the loading dock gave it to me,” Matt jumped in bed next to Mello, “He said he got it from his cousin in Denmark.  He says this shit will fuck your ass sideways.”

“Play your cards right,” Mello smirked, “And you’ll be what fucks my ass sideways.”

“Was that not the plan?” Matt cuddled into him, “So, question.  Before we go any further.”

“What now?” Mello groaned, the button on his pants already undone.

“Have you ever done ecstasy before?”

“Actually,” Mello thought back, “I don’t think I have.  I mean, we’ve smoked weed together a billion times together, but I don’t ever remember doing ecstasy.”

“I’m sure a lot of people don’t remember doing ecstasy,” Matt chuckled to himself, “But let me explain it.  You take it.  You wait.”

“How do I know when it kicks in?”

“Oh, Mello…” Matt pulled him into his chest, the feeling of Mello’s skin on his own already sending him to a happy place, “You’ll know.  Trust me.  You’ll know.  Because when you’re on ecstasy, it heightens whatever emotion you’re feeling at the time.  So, I’m going to have you on all fours.  The x’ll hit.  And you’ll feel fucking incredible.  Just…Trust me.  You’ll know when it kicks in.”

“Alright then,” Mello threw his tablet down his throat and swallowed hard, “So, now we wait?”

“Damn,” Matt sat back, “I wasn’t expecting you to take it like a champ.”

“What?” Mello scoffed, “You’re not going to take yours?”

“Oh, I am,” Matt assured him, placing the tablet on his tongue, “See?  Now, if anything gets to be too intense, I want you to tap out.  Got it?”

“What if it’s too intense,” Mello wondered, “But I can handle it?”

“When you can’t handle it anymore,” Matt held Mello’s face between his hands, “I’m serious, Mello.  I don’t need this turning into a bad trip for you.  Do you understand?”

“I know,” Mello stole a quick kiss from him, “I’ll be alright, Matt.  Honestly, you worry too much about me.”

“I don’t worry enough about you,” Matt got a little kiss back.  And another.  And another, “There’s lube in the drawer.  Do you want me get it now?”

“What kind?”

“Water based.”

“No, dumbass,” Mello got out of his tight, leather pants, trying to get a glimpse into the treasure drawer Matt called his nightstand, “What flavors?”

“I have…” Matt skimmed his options, “Blueberry, strawberry, and cherry.”

“Cherry,” Mello picked, “Definitely cherry,”

“You would,” Matt grabbed the bottle and put a little on his fingers before straddling Mello’s thighs, “Suck.”

Mello gladly took Matt’s fingers into his mouth, indulging himself in the sweet cherry flavor, “Mmmm…”

“Settle down, Mello,” Matt demanded, “I know you’re excited, but you need to save some of that for the real thing.”

“Then, put that on the real thing,” Mello insisted, batting his eyelashes up at Matt, “Please…?”

Matt squirted out a good amount into the palm of his hand and reached down the front of his jeans for his dick, “See?  Is it too hard to ask?”

“Are you too hard for me to suck off?” Mello smirked, a little glint in his eye.

“I think you know what to do…”

Mello wrapped his legs around Matt and flipped him onto the bed.  He wanted nothing more than for Matt to at least be comfortable first, “I spoil you, Matt.”

“You also have more leg strength than I give you credit for,” Matt snapped back into his head after the impact left him dazed.

Mello wrapped his lips around the end of Matt’s dick, slowly teasing him.  Just a little.  And the sweet taste of cherry filled Mello’s mouth even more.  Deeper and deeper, Matt’s cock went down Mello’s throat.  And Mello was loving every second of it.  Every inch.  It was all his.  And he couldn’t hold back a moan if he wanted to.  The vibrations sent chills through Matt’s body.  More than they usually did.  And that was when Matt knew.  Yep…The X kicked in…

“Mmm…” Mello moaned, popping Matt out of his mouth, his drool soaking the sheets, “More…”

“You don’t need more lube, Mels,” Matt sighed out, “You were doing just fine.”

“Please…” Mello begged, “I need you, Matt.  Please.”

“Alright, alright,” Matt promised him, climbing back on top.  His fingers were hardly on Mello’s ass and Mello was already bricked, “Damn, baby.  That has to be a record.”

“Keep  going,” Mello swooned, “My god…That’s…Right there.  Harder, Matt.  Harder…”

“If you say so, sweetheart,” Matt teased Mello’s ass a little more, already in his tight, little hole.

And never in his life did Mello feel so good.  Every inch of his body tightened up.  And as his ass tightened around Matt, his grip on the pillows tightened, too.  His nails dug into the palms of his hands while Matt steadily pushed himself in Mello.  And Mello let out the most satisfied moan he ever had.  It wasn’t long before Mello made a mess on the bed.  And up his stomach.  And life suddenly became so beautiful.  And the world so small.  But everything was great.  And Mello collapsed.  Yet, Matt kept going.  It was no fair if only one of them got off.  And once Matt finally got there, they both crashed.

The next morning, Matt woke up naked with Mello in his arms with hardly any memory of the night before.  But after retracing his steps, he pieced it all together.  Ecstasy’s a hell of a drug…

[greentrickster]

So, was reading fanfic on my tablet in the living room (since that’s a thing I can do now since my dad won the thing in a drawing and let me have in since he already had one), turned off the screen and left it there for awhile, undisturbed.

Fix myself a glass of cold water with lemon juice in it, because it’s delicious and also good for my messed up pH level.

Leave the cup of water by the tablet, so one plastic corner is barely touching the glass of the cup.

My tablet: (dramatic reenactment) Oh- oh my! The contents of this glass vessel! So fresh! So tart! So revitalizing! I- I feel the need to reinvent myself from the ground up and discover who I truly am!!! (metaphorical transformation montage)

I decide to continue reading that fic and turn the screen of my tablet back on.

My tablet: Welcome to your Brand New Never-Been-Used-Before Amazon Fire, with no data on it anywhere in sight! Are you ready to set up?

Me: ...

Me: ...what the actual fuck.

I have no idea how or why it did this, none of its buttons got touched in any weird ways, it didn’t get wet, it just... spontaneously decided to revert to factory settings, and also say a very clear Fuck You to the lovely sd card I got for it to increase its memory and which it never liked in the first place but which I have left in with a sense of forlorn hope than maybe one day it will change its mind.

Glad I made purposeful decisions to keep myself from getting to attached to using it, planning to ask Techgod if he will use his tech-godliness to make the danged thing have my data again so I don’t have to set it up again.

[fuckable-old-man-battle]

  Xigbar stared down at the tablet screen. Who the fuck was trying to put Showie back with her ex. Who the fuck was stealing her. 'Bestfictionaldivorce'??? They were apart for a REASON. 

He resisted the urge to frisbee the damn thing out the window. No, he needed the tablet if he was going to keep an eye on things. He couldn't lose his head if he wanted to get her out of there. 

Why did he want her back so bad? He didn't care about her. He was just her goon. Just her fuckin' goon. Frankly, this made things easier for him. No one to make him scrub soup out of rugs, or get shot in the face, or make him cut her hair, or… You get the picture. Showie is nothing but a distraction. This could be his ticket out of here. 

But instead… Xigbar scrolled through tumblr a bit more. No, he– he wasn’t that much of a dick. He couldn’t just let Showie get dragged off to some tournament with her ex. He kinda… owed her one? Maybe. Yeah. Sure, let’s go with that!

Xigbar sighed and decided to try and talk to… Stanley. Hm. He didn’t really want to, but the original post that ‘bestfictionaldivorce’ had made had mentioned him and the Narrator.

He pulled the snowglobe out from his pocket dimension and checked– no, the Narrator was still inside. Good. He gave a few shakes, just for funsies.

He didn't want to actually talk to him yet. Not unless he was sure he had to. Might as well just cyberbully him instead. 

… Cyberbullying didn't work. Not entirely. Whatever, though. He can be civil. Not like he's never worked with someone this pathetic anyway. At least Stanley could be more counted on to get shit done than Demyx.

A quick knock in a one-two pattern rapped on the door.

"'S open!" Xigbar yelled. He didn't want to get up.

Stanley opened the door and walked inside. He squinted at the… equipment that had been used to give Showie her most recent makeover, and then sighed.

[So, what’s up?] he signed.

"Showie's missing. I found something on Tumblr, but it's… We need to get her back. The post mentioned you, too. And your Narrator."

[Ok. Back up. Show me the post. I didn’t see that. I don’t follow you. Only some button stim blogs.]

"Here." Xigbar handed the tablet over to Stanley, already pulled up to the post. Like he'd been staring at it.

" @bestfictionaldivorce:

FUCK IT

Showie and her Ex-Husband from @white-boy-bracket are now in the running! Why? Because why the fuck not

also Stanley and The Narrator are back in the running, going against Showie and her Ex!"

Stanley looked at the post, scrolled down a tiny bit, smirked, and handed the tablet back to Xigbar.

[Yeah, that’s probably not good. Also you did push the button. Ha.]

"Shut the fuck up."

[I haven’t said a word.] Stanley signed with a grin. [Okay. Is the Narrator here, or was he taken too?]

"He's still here. He's not fucking important right now! Do you have any idea what Showie is going through right now?" Of course Stanley didn't. He hadn't seen her flashbacks. 

[You’re right.] Stanley signed quickly. [The Narrator isn’t important at all. We should only focus on her. Alright. Well, I… you went to a different tournament before, right? How does that work?]

"I didn't have a choice. I just got pulled there."

[So…. okay, well, how’d you get here? You weren’t an original competitor.]

"Election fraud. It happens enough and then I'm here. It comes with the crown, I guess." Weird time to flex being Election Fraud King.

[Right. That.] Stanley signed, glancing over at Xigbar’s… laurels was perhaps too kind of a word for his sash and crown, but they were still trophies. [Hm. Well, I guess… I’m going to get pulled there eventually. I could try saying please a lot to summon you. That sometimes makes election fraud happen?]

"It can't hurt." Xigbar tried to force his leg to stop bouncing. Being stuck here was driving him crazy. Who the hell knows what kind of shit Showie was having to go through right now? 

[And, once I’m there, I can help her out. Her ex, yeah? I can… I don’t know, try and make things less awkward for her? And if Narry’s there, he could… uh. I. Maybe do something? He is an eldritch being.]

"Right. The tentacles. I saw some of that when we got teamed up together when we got sent to Fuckable Old Man Battle."

[I’m sorry, Fuckable Old Man Battle?]

"Yeah. Other tournament. They had a season two. He was in from the get go, but I got sucked in later. … He had too much shit to say about my bikini."

[There were bikinis? There. Did he wear a bikini.]

"NOW ISN'T THE TIME TO BE HORNY, STANLEY." 

[SHUT UP.] Stanley signed aggressively. He pinched his brow, and then sighed. [Okay. Okay. Moving on. I will try to help {SCEPTER}. I will try and get Narry to help {SCEPTER}, which might be a bit difficult, for… a number of reasons. Uh. Could you… clear one of my commands, before I go?]

"How do I do that?"

[You give a new one. Duh. Okay, so… {SCEPTER} gave me one, so that… I can’t be happy if I’m around him. It’s gonna be really hard for me to talk to the Narrator if I can’t be near him. So. Please help.]

"Fine. Whatever. You can feel whatever the hell you want around your Narrator."

Stanley smiled in relief. [Thanks! I knew you’d help. It’s nice to be able to know I can do that again. Okay, any more prep I should do?]

"Do whatever you have to do to get the election fraud to happen. I need to get in there." He needs to protect her.

[Gotcha.] Stanley signed, and then did twin finger guns. [I’m gonna go press some of my buttons. If you’re feeling stressed out I have one you can borrow. Bye!]

Stanley turned around to leave.

"This doesn't mean we're friends. The second she's safe, it's back on."

Stanley turned back around and grinned.

[Oh, please. You’re an awful liar.]

"What."

[What?] Stanley signed. [You lied about the purple button, and you’re lying now!]

"As if. I didn't lie about the button. I was being vague. And I am definitely not lying now."

Stanley frowned, and it seemed like two separate codes were trying to fire in his brain simultaneously. He clutched his head and shut his eyes.

"Are you having a mental breakdown right now? I don't want to carry you back to your apartment."

Stanley grimaced and opened his eyes slightly. He started to sign, though his hands were a bit shaky. [Not any mental illness. Just. My will. It. It hurts. I.]

Stanley took a deep breath in, and then let one out.

[I know you’re here for me. But I don’t need your help right now. Thank you.]

  What.

  "What do you mean by that?"

[You’re not… a bad person. You wouldn’t ever hurt {SCEPTER}. You’re different. You’re nice!]

Xigbar froze. He's… different? That wasn't Stanley talking. No. Stanley knew perfectly well how cruel he could be. That had to have been some kind of command from Showie. 

Something in his gut twisted. 

"Just… Go. Get out of here. Go get yourself ready for whatever the hell is coming."

Stanley nodded, and quickly turned on his heels to leave.

When the door closed behind him, Xigbar sat back down on the couch and put his head in his hands. Showie thought he was different. He wasn't. She just didn't know. 

But he almost wanted to be.

@misspelled-magic

[insipid-drivel]

Having DID/OSDD can be very strange as much as it can be very interesting. We use this button, which has dry-erase paint on it and a marker to go with it, to ID ourselves when someone else is in front. We needed this button yesterday.

My mom just turned 66 and needed to go in for a breast biopsy after her yearly physical showed some anomalous sparkles on a scan. There’s literally a 90% likelihood she’s fine, but it triggered me like a baseball bat to an unsuspecting mailbox. My dad fought cancer for my entire teenage years until he passed away when I was almost 17 of an HIV-related infection. It isn’t the sort of trauma that tears and claws at me on a regular basis, but I broke down hard when my mom came home after the test and announced it would be a few days before the results came back. We were sitting down to eat together, and the meltdown first manifested when I couldn’t bring myself to swallow anything. Trauma sucks like that.

When I get that triggered that suddenly, it’s scary and bewildering. 2 years ago or more, I wouldn’t have been able to handle it, and I would’ve felt very alone in my own head. I didn’t know I had DID until 2 years ago when the characters in my books stopped being characters and revealed that they’d always been with me, and that my writing was the safest way they could talk to and interact with me. The eldest of them all, Cassandra, didn’t want me to be diagnosed until well into my adult life so I would have full control over how it was treated rather than a parent or guardian and doctors running on very poor research that could’ve caused more harm than good.

Marchosias took over all of yesterday afternoon and well into the night. He doesn’t usually like to spend much time in front, but a meltdown hit me quite literally in the middle of staring at my plate of dinner. He used to be an alter I was afraid of; we didn’t get along or understand each other, mostly because we didn’t know how to communicate. Marchosias processes trauma with anger; he’s gruff and has such a distinct voice that my mother doesn’t need any announcement to tell it’s him talking. I used to think he was a demon, because if you google his name, that’s what you’ll find, but now that we’ve learned to communicate with each other, he’s one of my toughest and most resilient guardians.

DID/OSDD doesn’t have to be a nightmare sentence of stigma and awfulness. I got triggered yesterday, and reached for Marchosias to help, because I needed not to be “here” for a while. He wrote his name on the button and pinned it on our shirt, wiped tears off my face as they evaporated like magic, and ate my dinner for me while reassuring my family I’d be okay and that the fries needed salt. When asked if he was nervous, he shrugged and said, “No. I understand statistics. 90% means you’re fine. 10% means your insurance covers a breast augmentation.” He then pulled out my tablet and loaded a webpage for a tattoo shop not far from where we lived. “These guys tattoo mastectomy scars for free.”

They spent the rest of dinner talking over potential tattoo ideas while I was in a dreamworld where there were 7 moons and a man who looked like mercury come to life with a love for expensive whiskey and strawberries talked to me about how infinity ran in every direction. He reassured me my mom was fine because he’d “put in an information request with the right people.” I shrugged it off and admired the snowflakes sparkling. My alters are very good at putting me in literal headspaces that are too pretty for me to continue to be upset in.

Marchosias made sure my teeth were brushed before bed. He made sure to brush my hair, and even refilled my weekly pill organizer for me, because it was the day for that and I was too upset to do it. He kept drinking water for me, took a bath for me, and got me to bed on time with everything organized and a message on my computer screen telling me that he’d taken the memories away, but everything else was taken care of.

When I greeted my mom the next morning, she simply said she wished she could “bottle some of that”, because she was envious of the instantaneous relief that came from switching with Marchosias. Marchosias wrote a note to her to explain that he wouldn’t do it very frequently, because the more episodes of amnesia I had, the more dependent I would be on help to stay oriented in the right time and place. “We have stringent standards and checks and balances to go by,” he said with authority. “The disorientation:relief ratio has to be distinctly beneficial. We have to deal with the ramifications of our own bullshit, you know.”

Waking up always feels a little like waking up in a patient recovery room with your loved ones just outside the door talking to the doctor. In my case, his name is Alex and he was responsible for making sure my medications were organized and counted out properly. While it was me again, I still felt someone behind me, and found that Marchosias had made a convincing pile of blankets and cushions for me to imagine was him.

Remember that a lot of these disorders are survival mechanisms. Mine won’t let me forget it, and I have a dry-erase button to prove it.

[srorgana1]

Into the Reverb (Kylo Ren/Reader)

Chapter Six

It's Saturday and it's your turn to open the studio. You are running late. Fuck. Fuck. You had jolted out of bed when you realized the time, thanking whichever deity available that you showered before bed. Your stomach rumbles as you pull into the parking lot. There are cars already here. Fuck, you are so in trouble.

You grab your items and the weekend keys and rush up to the door. In the middle of unlocking it, you hear your name. You turn your head as you hit the last lock to see Kylo standing there. Your eyes narrow in confusion. KOR wasn't on the schedule for this weekend. “What are you doing here? You guys weren't on the schedule this weekend, or did I miss something?” you say, your anxiety is clear as day in your tone.

His eyes soften at your tone. “Relax baby girl, I came by to work on some lyrics and bring you this” handing you a nondescript white take out bag. Your eyes widen as you look inside, other hand in autopilot mode flipping the light switches. You are shocked to see a large cup of iced coffee in a holder, surrounded snugly by a blueberry muffin, a banana and a yogurt parfait. “Thank you” you say shyly. ”You’re welcome” he says, giving you a warm smile and walking away.

Your brain is reeling as you sit behind the soundboard. You are barely paying attention to Bala as he records lyrics. You give him a standard critique and some input but you are distracted. You need to know why Kylo is being so nice to you. He may not be the most outgoing and amicable person of the group, but his aloofness is countered by his dry sense of humor and his crazy musical talent.

You hit the microphone button. “Hey Bala, this is sounding good. Let's take a break and regroup in 30?” “Sounds good, Y/N”. As he exits the booth, you save the files and place the system on standby. Running your fingers through your hair, you open the door and go to find Kylo.

—

Kylo hunches over the low table. He will definitely feel this in his back tomorrow but he doesn’t care. He is in the groove. The lack of people here today has been perfect for him. Along with the very little chance he will be distracted, you were here, doing your thing. His soul was also placated by the fact that because of what he brought for you, you would be okay for most of the morning and afternoon. He just couldn’t see you like that again.

He shakes his head to clear it as he looks at his notebooks and tablet. He had a system and it worked for him. His current ideas are good, but are they worthy of the new album? Never Giving Up, Shadows, and Closer were easy writes for him. He had been fiddling with them for a bit. He and Vic co-wrote The Worst In Me and Battered. It makes him smile to know that Vic was finally feeling comfortable to write, especially after everything with the First Order.

He twirls his pen between his fingers as he runs his hand through his hair. He is distracted by thoughts of you again. Your voice and the beautiful strumming of an acoustic guitar floats in his head. He smiles fondly as the pen reaches the paper and he starts to write.

And it’s killin me when you’re away

And I wanna leave and I wanna stay

I’m so confused, so hard to choose

Between the pleasure and the pain

Continued shoutout to my girls @asnackdriver, @punk-in-docs, @the-wayward-rose, @thepilotanon, and @ladyzimmerman. You make me smile and laugh every single day and ily! ❤️❤️

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

I have so many questions for the fanfic ask so strap in 😏 I really want to ask all of them but I should limit myself to like, 10.

12, 17, 18, 22, 26, 27, 29, 34, 36, and 77

Anyways I'm a little drunk so thank for answering these in advance and Ily 💙

(GAAAAH I HAD ANSWERED FOUR OF THE QUESTIONS ALREADY WHEN I SLIPPED ON MY GODDAMN TABLET AND CLOSED THE TAB AND I LOST ALL OF IT.)

Ziz, my drunken angel. I want to get drunk too, but I'm too tired. Now I have to copypaste all of these suckers for you instead.

12. Do you outline your fics? If yes, how detailed are your outlines? How far do you stray from them?

Mostly not. For longer fics or multichapters I might have some stuff jotted down just to remember to include it later (because I forget shit) but no, I don't really outline my fics.

17. Do you have a writing routine?

At the moment, I mostly work during down time at work. I have other things I'd rather do during my spare time, so in order to write anything at all - and I want to write, but not enough to use my spare time for it - it's going to be on company time. Front desk duty days are the best because we don't get many customers, I usually don't have anything pressing to work on while waiting for customers to show up, so I write smut. Perfect. It's a huge privilege, and I intent to enjoy it for as long as I can. So my routine is mostly "check if anyone's behind me, then open up my private email, and go to drafts, where I save my wips", haha!

18. Do you enjoy research? Which fic of yours required the most research?

Um, yes and no? Because I don't allow for writing to take a lot of time, I don't really feel like doing research at the moment. But if I feel like the fic requires it, a bitch will definitely google some shit. The most research I did in this fandom was for What Spring Does To The Cherry Trees. I had absolutely no idea about what life on a Texas cattle ranch would be like. I expected there would be cows and Stetsons. So I did a fair bit of reading up on that, plus what the military looked like in the early 1990's. (Nothing like I needed for my OFC, so I still made things up. It's fanfic.)

22. Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

AFTER. Omfg, after. Listen, I will have created the post on both Tumblr and Ao3 and be ready to hit that Post button, if it wasn't for the teensy tiny little detail that I LACK A GODDAMN TITLE. Titles are the worst. I very very rarely have a title from the start, or at least one that sticks with me throughout the process, and makes it until the end. I usually go for song lyrics (simple but somewhat easy), or something descriptive and boring (um, "The Artist and the Builder", anyone? Scoff!).

26. What’s your least favorite part of the writing process?

The title. And the sex scenes. Ugh.

27. What area of writing do you feel strongest in?

I feel like I write relationships well. I write female characters well, I like them independent and headstrong, not too sentimental or dependent. I like writing the day-to-day of relationships, the kind of boring stuff, the banter. Two people who rib the bejesus out of each other but will never be mean to each other and will always have each other's backs and also have phenomenal sex. Also she doesn't cook.

29. What’s something about your writing that you’re proud of?

I am proud of finishing fics that I've worked on for months or even a year. I'm proud of not compromising my ideas, even when I suspect that taking the story another way would give me more notes. And I am so, so proud of my chubby!reader x Frankie series. The comments I got on those fics still make me tear up. I am so humbled that I could give readers the experience of really seeing themselves in that reader insert. I honestly never thought it would be so huge, that people would actually see themselves in it, but they did, and they told me, and I am just. Wow.

34. How much of your personal life/experience do you include in your fics?

I did a lil day trip with my two doctor friends yesterday, and they talked about different medical professionals/originals that they met during their internship. And I listened, and told them: "You know that one guy is ending up in a fic, right?" They laughed, and said "Go right ahead, he deserves to be in a one!" So I do pick up stuff from around me, and from my own life. But most of it is make-believe because hahaha I do not have a Frankie of my own and I do nothing interesting with my life honestly :')

36. What fic are you proudest of?

As already mentioned, the Forever Starts With You series. But also What Spring Does To The Cherry Trees. And Jay and Frankie. Heck, I'm proud of almost all of my fics! Some are written with a lot of integrity, some I'm just proud of finishing, some have resonated so beautifully with the readers. Don't make me choose.

77. Why do you enjoy writing fanfiction?

I am a creative person. I've always written stuff. Fanfic in "easy" in the sense that you are served a world and characters that people already know, so you don't have to spend time setting all of that up. It's also a communal experience, something that brings people together. And of course I love the responses! I'd be lying if I said I did this for myself: if I did, I wouldn't be posting. I post my fics to share the, and I love it when people tell me I did good, yes, but mostly I love it when I make people feel something. Maybe I made them laugh, or cry, or horny (seriously, people: you have got to be more open about that! TELL ME MY SMUT MADE YOU MASTURBATE, I WILL BE ALL HEART EYES!). Maybe they recognized themselves in the fic, felt seen, felt appreciated. That's the good stuff. That's the reason I write. I'll continue to post stuff for as long as I have stories to tell but if I'm completely honest: I wouldn't bother anymore if I didn't get comments. This is fandom, it's supposed to be a community with interaction.

[ntntpad-art]

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aGAIN WITH THE OLD ART!! Ok these works are from my Principles of Animation class back in 2019.

And wow.

these make me look like a horrible artist asdasdasd

Ok first of,,,,I kind of think the class sucked balls. It could have been great, but the classroom had tiny 8 inch tablets with no screen and the computers were INCREDIOUSLY slow.  That and we were needing to learn how to use Toon Boom Harmony (a very tricky program for a beginner) in about a week.

And well, I now have a way better understanding of ToonBoom Harmony, but it has been 3 years since this class and I had 3 more classes since this one where I needed to use it and I was a director for a short film for 2 of those, so TBH had to be learned FOR NECESITY.

Not to say the prof didn’t teach us anything, she did, but it wasn’t as in depth as I would have liked it to be. Also to add to the messiness of this trimester, this was the trimester I came down with the flu and I had a cold for the entire month before I even caught the flu, so everything was really getting to me. 

[I also want to metioned that after this trimester I took a 6 month break where I just worked a normal 9 to 5 and chilled out to get a better idea if I wanted to drop out or continue UNI. I came back and graduated so the story does have a happy ending]

The class was consisted of just learning the basic principle of animation, nothing had to be cleaned and lined colored. The prof wanted to see that our rough animation was just genuinely good. I wouldn’t say mine are good. Yes some of them have a nice smooth moments with anticipation, but I was very lost this entire class. It took me a long while to actually grasp what the hell 2d animation was. Up to that point I was only interested in 3D animation and all these lines and buttons and layers that I needed to figure out were to complicated for me. Toon Boom Harmony really humbled me. And it even humbled be more when I didn’t have a license and by the end I was so fed up I didn’t even pay for it, I just downloaded OpenToons (its free btw) and just used that to animate my final ( the last clip.) Working on both OpenToons and TBH were the same task but OT was easier for me.