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agent-cupcake · 3 years

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fluff is good, it’s even fun sometimes. but, you know, i think i’ll always enjoy dark content the most. like, no matter how much i insist i have moved past it, my entire career began because i learned the term yandere and realized i’d found my place in the online sphere. but, really, lust and fear have a complimentary relationship. the emotions and sensations they invoke, both physically and mentally, are equally potent and stem from the same place for me. the fluttery sensation in my stomach dances indiscriminately to the tune of disquiet and arousal, excitement stirs itself up within my chest at the mention of being wanted, uncaring if the intent is sadistic or lustful. its a shared theatrical fantasy of fear, catching thrills from simulated danger as we imagine what it is to be in a situation so dire, so intense and frightening, that we cannot help but to hyperfocus on our discomfort. we practice these emotions and engage in these disastrously unhealthy relationships through emulation and the sanitized vessel of the written word, but without any of the emotional price that would be asked of us if it were real.

it’s not real.

there is nobody lurking behind your window in the gaps between the streetlamps, even if you were to turn off the lights in an attempt to get a better view, but maybe you shouldn’t anyway. there is no face to breathe fog and leave smudged fingerprints on the glass pane while they peer into the internal life you hold sacred, but you should probably keep your blinds shut. there is nobody hiding behind your shower curtain as you stumble half-blind and asleep into the bathroom at two in the morning, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. if you hear a sound, surely you cannot logically attribute it to a malevolent person moving unseen through the secure sanctuary of your home when they assumed you would be in bed, but you should probably take a look at your locks. if you notice that your things are not where you left them, it’s silly to assume that someone has been into your room, rifling through your things and leaving them almost as you left them. to believe that somebody genuinely and truly meant you harm in such a personal way would be to risk the foundational safety that you rely on to live with any measure of peace. and besides, memories are fallible. our senses are imperfect. our overexcited and imaginative minds can betray us. you can be infected by a nightmare you can’t quite remember, only that you woke up shaky and gasping and frightened, squinting in the darkness to make out the figure standing at the foot of your bed that you could have sworn was just there only to be reassured that it was just a bad dream. you can hurry home because you felt certain you were being watched only for the sensation to be ultimately attributed to your own paranoia. yes, the world is dangerous. but maybe not your world. these things, these dramatic scenes cut straight from an episode of the hundreds of crime dramas, don’t happen to people like you.

but

we fantasize about yanderes and dark personalities and the brutal psychological and bodily torture any character of our choice could subject us to, we imagine the most grim of situations in a light that appeals to our own desires, twisting horror to suit us in a controlled manner.

still, it is frightening, isn’t it?

it’s past midnight, maybe one or two in the morning, and you’re sitting within the four walls of your room that you no longer believe to be protection enough from the stalker that has been creeping closer and closer. you’re staring at the familiar surroundings that suddenly feel very alien and contend with the bone crushing frenzy of utter stillness in the face of animal panic, the intense crackling and wavering that you can almost see hovering above your skin and holding up little strands of hair as chills crawl in bug-like hoards across the feverish flush of your flesh. all at once you are overwhelmed and helpless against him as he invades, defiles, and dismantles each aspect of your life. there is nothing you can do, no protection from this stylized predator who who has been perfected by fantasy made real so that he no longer resembles any common stalker. in the dark, you are vulnerable. in this situation, you are isolated. shame fills your chest, sloshing around to the frantic rhythm of your heartbeat, embarrassment at the ridiculousness of your reaction. really, what are a few messages? maybe you’re misinterpreting the signs, there’s not enough evidence to prove anything. you have to use the bathroom, yet you don’t feel safe to enter the dark hallway because there might be a figure standing at the other end, and what would you do then? you want to contact somebody for comfort, but everyone you know is asleep and you don’t want to disturb them over something so trivial. you want to move and run and scream and deal with the problem, but you can’t do anything. just sit. just watch. just wait. minutes tick by, somehow. and somehow, dawn breaks over the horizon. you didn’t sleep, but maybe the sun will provide safety. maybe.

maybe not. there’s a unique kind of horror in the mundane. you don’t think about the sounds of the world around you until you begin to feel uneasy in the sunny open air, until the paranoia kicks in and suddenly it’s all you can hear because you’re hyper-focusing on trying to identify why you no longer feel safe. birds warble and call to one another. the leaves relentlessly rustle as the playful breeze shakes them about. from far away, a dog is barking. the big kind, the one that goes “boof boof,” you’ve just gotten out of your car after being out all day and you’re standing uncertainly in your driveway, looking around to try and pinpoint why you’re so anxious. you realize, with a zipping sort of shock down your spine, that there’s nobody else around. not even any evidence that they existed in the first place and it’s so stupid but you begin to think that maybe you’re the only person who has ever existed because the world around you feels so empty and barren. energy tingles in the air, but it is hollow. a void of something you can’t quite perceive. the dog stops barking. the wind dies down. do you dare go inside? your home, the place that should be your refuge, is not safe. you go inside and look at a kitchen you scarcely recognize as your own, at a bed that might as well belong to somebody else, at decor you once were so proud to put up that now seems arranged by a strangers hand. the one who is preying on you is probably human, but the threat feels supernatural in effect. omnipresent. we fear that which we don’t understand, and how can you possibly understand the motive of someone who has focused on you? dread sinks down deep as you shift from foot to foot and second guess every move you make. it smells like sun-warmed concrete and the wind-blown scent of spring greenery. just like your home itself, the smell is familiar as it is foreign. eventually, you go inside.

it’s so obscene, the way that sweat pools between your shoulder blades and slicks your skin, making you shiver with a distinctly antithetical chill to your blazing temperature. sweat is gross and uncomfortable, it makes your clothes cling to your skin and hair mat to your forehead. it’s so crude, this gouging, pinching discomfort like you need to pee making your thighs tremble as they clench together. your entire body is wound up tight as you crouch in the dark, barely allowing yourself to breathe for fear of being discovered while he looks for you. maybe he takes his time just to mess with you, maybe he doesn’t. maybe he tauntingly calls out to you in a feigned attempt to draw you out of hiding. maybe he means it when he tells you that he loves you. no matter what, there’s no escape, not anymore. it’s a foregone conclusion that you will be found. but you can’t move. fight or flight is out the window, you are frozen. you know the eventuality, yet you cling to hope out of the sheer, stubborn, and half-mad belief that this cannot possibly be real.

its so repulsive, this sickness that gathers in your gut, that invites the swollen weight of nausea to press down heavy and inescapable in your throat, that sits on your paper dry tongue. it tastes like old, rusted metal, the scent that clung to your blistered hands when you were young and tried your luck on the ancient playground monkey bars. the bloody flavor that choked you when you lost the last of your baby teeth, leaving your childhood behind and exchanging imaginary monsters for the real ones. just when the anticipation is on the precipice of killing you, you’re found. you expected it, yet you still scream. it still hurts, it’s still terrifying, you’re still clouded by the vague fog of disbelief that this could be real. you keep thinking that. it can’t be real, this can’t be real. things like this don’t happen to you.

but it is. you can’t stop it. you have no control over your life in that moment and thereafter.

and you think about everything you’ve ever read online about torture. human beings are so capable of hurting each other, it’s a dedicated art form. and you know about stalkers, the real kind, not the fun fictional yandere kind. you know the torture that human bodies are capable of withstanding before dying, the grotesque limits they can endure. limbs removed or hobbled. fingers peeled of nail and skin. teeth pulled, tongue cut out, eyes gouged, skin lashed to tatters, feet spun around so the skin stretched like rubber. not to mention sexual torture. when a human being is granted absolute dominion over another, even the best of them go rotten. do you ever think about that? in these situations, the fear of pain would get to me above all else, i think.

if you don’t immediately disassociate from the fiction, if you force yourself into the scenario as its presented with a degree of reality, the horror is really limitless. and, you may ask, why was this important? because it is six am and i cannot sleep and i’ve had this entire conceptual outline of good horror yandere fiction sitting in my docs for ages that i’ll never actually use to write character x reader so i am giving it to you raw and uncut.

#personal #yandere #uh tw for being a pretentious and sleepy idiot cooming over ye ole classic yandere tropes #sometimes i like to imagine this stuff in clear enough detail that it actually makes me uncomfortable enough to turn on the light #and rethink my life choices #because this aint it #but at the same time #at this point its sunk cost fallacy i've spent too long typing this out to discard it #sorry dear followers #stalking tw

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akvtsuki-ari · 5 years

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Be Mean

Warnings: smut, femdom, degradation, sub!spencer, mild masochism, choking, generally mean shit lol

Length: 5.3k (ik)

Authors Note: uhh happy valentines day! not the fic anyone was expecting today and extremely self indulgent but valentines day is about self love too right? lmfao anyways, hope yall enjoy

Summary: Spencer was just a little too into the way you cuss people out and it was starting to weigh on him. You’re more than happy to help him out.

Words were falling from your lips with grace. Your back was straight as you leaned into the table - the unsub just inches away. He was a narcissist, and his hatred for strong women became increasingly clear the moment you stepped into the room. He wanted to prove he was smarter, tougher, and better than you - but the challenge you reproached him with left his knuckles white. Teeth gritted, jaw clenched, and that same grace - analyzing and cold, never seemed to escape you.

It didn’t take long for the arrest to fall through - his confession leaving him as he tried to express his pathetic anger towards you. He called you names but nothing creative, not as smart as he seemed to be but you couldn’t help but laugh at him. Soon after he delves into explaining his own genius and the pieces continued to fall together - it was a good case and luckily he didn’t get far after his first 3 victims. Not something that the BAU gets lucky with very often, you think.

Spencer watched you in the interrogation - eyes fading over your body language carefully. You were unnervingly confident - always were no matter whether it was a killer or not. He took notice of many little things that seemed to make the details of your existence culminate further in his mind. You licked the inside of your lip when you were getting close to breaking the unsub, and your eyes would get a little lower when he started to speak. You rolled your shoulders when you watched him get escorted and that warm, sweet version of you returned to you with no trouble at all.

It was easy for people to call you BAU’s resident sweetheart. You were charming, witty, and intelligent but also kind. When the team needed someone who people can trust, you were always up there on the list. Your skills of diffusion were particularly helpful, you worked homeland security for a long while and it showed. Your capabilities to ease a tense moment as well as interrogate a criminal in a provocative way has proved helpful time and time again - but who you were was always up in the air. It was a valuable trait to be mysterious in that sense.

On one hand, Spencer really did like plain Y/N more than anything. You were always particularly kind to Spencer - you remembered his birthday and always texted him right at 12 beating the entire BAU, even Garcia. You brought him soup and cold medicine when he was sick because you were close by and he needed some company. You helped him babysit JJ’s kids because you could and you were fond of them. You were never too impatient and you let him work in silence rather than making commentary about his process. You just got him, and it all seemed to come naturally though you knew things someone could only figure out through careful observation.

Y/N the Agent was different, though. Still you, when she needed to be. Any cases involving young children, or innocent people in general really showed the other side of you. But you had this moment in every case, where your hyperfocus became so sinister everyone in the department could feel it. They were different sides of the same coin, your traits manifesting themselves in different ways but Spencer had a very particular notice of it. For one, it fascinated him a lot. How could anyone not be fascinated by that?

Of course though, that wasn’t the only reason but the other half of this whole spiel was a lot more embarrassing but -

Spencer got unbelievably turned on when he watched you interrogate criminals and - listen he knows okay? He really understands how absolutely not good that is but the memory is so burned into his brain he can’t help but think about it every time it comes up.

The team was in Arizona working on ritualistic killings from a small tribe, native to the area. You and Reid had been assigned to talk to important community members and there was a head elder dude there who was particularly scummy - though not the unsub. He was too cocky to pull off such elaborate and patient murders so he was ruled out early but he was hiding something and you needed to know what it was. When interrogations went on, you confronted the man about his use of testosterone injections - something forbidden in the community since they believed modern medicine was extremely harmful, part of the killers M.O.

The conversation between the two of you was short-lived but memorable, to say the least.

“What happened, elder? Were the village girls not working for you anymore so you sicked your friend on them cause you couldn’t get it up? Was it worth it?,” your voice was thick with distaste and the elder lost his shit. He ended up confessing that he had a strong hunch but he’d only tell if they kept his secret and the lead was correct.

Spencer's mind hasn’t been able to let go of that moment and every single time a case comes up where you have to confront someone he finds himself having to relieve himself in a bathroom stall or strain himself to get it to just go away. It was killing him really. He had a crush on you sure, always has but his body reacting like he was a 16-year-old boy every time you spoke was not going to cut it but he didn’t know what to do either.

He finds himself in that same position now, on the plane ride home with the thought of you and your demeanor keeping him from focusing. You were asleep across from him, wearing comfortable clothes that slid just over your shoulders. He couldn’t help the way his eyes lingered on his skin and he tried his absolute best to ignore and go to sleep.

When Spencer Reid arrived home, he was pleasantly surprised to see messages from you, asking to hangout in his apartment while your kitchen gets renovated. There was no way in hell he was gonna say no to that, so he tidied his things up and ordered thai food while he waited for your arrival.

It didn’t take long for you to show, wearing black joggers and a tight tanktop that Spencer has never seen you in before. It looked good on you, accentuating the strength in your shoulders in back. He knew you were decently fit but this was surprising, even for him. You smiled wide as you stepped through the door, giving Spencer a tight hug. He can feel your boobs pressed up against his chest and he wants to kick himself for the shiver that runs off his spine as if he were a teenager again.

“Hey, Spence. Thanks again for letting me come over today, hope I’m not intruding,” you say softly, as you settle down on Spencer's couch, phone in hand. He nods, smiling.

“It’s no problem. The food should be here in a minute but do you want a glass of water or anything in the meantime? I also have some lemonade, if you want that,” Spencer offers. You readjust and Spencer watches the way your muscles tense. He shouldn’t be noticing something like that yet here he is.

“Lemonade sounds great, thanks Spence,” you say, laying into the couch as you scroll through your phone. Spencer excuses himself to the kitchen, grabbing glasses from his cupboard and filling them up with lemonade before returning to you. He places the glasses on the table in front of you, before the sound of the doorbell alerts him.

You get up, retying your hair as the smell of Thai food hits you. You let out an involuntary moan but Spencer just laughs. The food is set up in front of you, but its far too hot for either of you to eat so the both of you sip on your lemonade and chat instead.

“Everytime we get a few days off, the paranoia of a case hits the ground running,” you complain, gently. Spencer laughs, nodding his head.

“Oh definitely. I can’t imagine what it’s like not thinking about it all the time, though,” he explains. You nod your head in agreement.

“Yeah, but time off is still time off so the plan is to spend the weekend alone with a glass of wine and some romantic films and relax,” you explain, sighing. Spencer looks at you curiously.

“Didn’t take you for the romance type,” he states curiously. You sigh again, looking at him.

“I’m not for the most part, it kinda serves a different purpose for me than most women I’d argue,” you reply to him. Spencers intrigued by your comment and sits up a bit.

“How so?,” he poses carefully. You place your lemonade down on the coffee table and scratch the back of your neck.

“Don’t get me wrong, I like being wined-and-dined like any woman. Romance itself is nice, love is wonderful - but the way I wanna be romanced isn’t exactly traditional,” your voice is airy when you speak, laughing at yourself but the revelation maes Spencers weak.

“Traditional?,” he manages to squeak out. You notice his shift in behavior, and you slow down for a moment.

“We don’t have to talk about that kinda stuff, Spence. It’s more of a girls night thing I’d talk about with Garcia and JJ - though they already know about most of it,” you say lightly. Spencer chokes a bit as you continue to reveal details.

“No, it's not that. I’m… interested?,” he says nervously, chewing the inside of his lip. You tilt your head, surprised by his curiosity.

“Didn’t take you for a freak, pretty boy,” you comment, giggling. Spencer's face turns hot, but you reassure him you’re only kidding.

“Yeah, I don’t know. I don’t really care for the whole subservient role, especially not in bed. I enjoy seeing someone do what I say, and having things go my way. I’ve always been like that, figured that out with my first highschool boyfriend, hah,” you say, sipping your lemonade.

Spencer swallows at the realization that you’re probably experienced, very experienced in that department. He shifts in his set again and your eyes settle on him for a moment, neither of you making eye contact but rather observing each other

“I don’t know how to explain it all that well, but I like it when I can be just a little mean, you know,” you say, smiling. Your tone is joking but your words have weight to them. Spencer's throat is closing up as you speak but he smiles back at you fondly. You take notice but hold yourself back.

“You sure you’re okay, Spencer?,” your voice is different this time. Knowing. Spencer's eyes flutter over to you and he’s aware rather suddenly of your being. The way your chest rises and falls as you speak, the smoothness of your lips around the glass, the way your hair falls over your face. He nods as you observe him. Your lips twitch up into a smile.

“Spencer, could it be resident boy genius is a sub?,” you say incredulous. Spencers whole face flushes and you find your clit up at attention at the non-verbal confession.

While he may be oblivious to it, you had a rather massive crush on Spencer. Something about his intelligence was remarkably sexy to you and knowing he was also a good person didn’t make the feelings any easier. Who could blame you for having a crush on Spencer, anway? Most people did - it was part of the reason you never told him. Based on his personality and dating history - it didn’t really seem like you were his type. You weren’t massively intelligent or particularly unique (at least you didn’t think so) so you couldn’t imagine Spencer having a crush on you. You were great, but you didn’t think you were Spencers type, thats all.

However, that didn’t stop you from thinking about him - really the opposite. Every waking moment you’d catch him doing something absentmindedly you cute - your brain begged to see him fucked out and sleepy. He’d ramble about something for so many minutes and all you wanted to do was sit on his face and shut him up (and then let him continue because he was honest to god so cute like that)

The point was that Spencer really did something to you. You had countless lingering thoughts about him but to know that this was actually something he was into made your head spin. You couldn’t hold your expression back and maybe it was your own masochism that made you want to know more but god did you want to know more.

“How long have you known about yourself, Spence?” you interrogate. Spencer swallows and prays to every deity his mind can manage as he looks at you pleadingly but you can’t recognize what the pleading is really for.

“How long have you been on the team?,” Spencer speaks before he can really understand the weight of his words, and the second he says the whole room stops. You look at him with delighted surprise and he shuts his eyes at contempt for his own existence.

“No fucking way,” you can’t help the little inhale you do at the realization. Pure excitement just emanating from your being like nobody's business. You were genuinely going to lose your mind at this revelation. Spencer Reid discovered that hes a sub because of you? Were you dreaming?

If this wasn’t Spencer's apartment he would’ve run away. He just had to look at you instead and face the fact he just revealed his own sins. Your laugh at Spencer revelation made the little nagging voice in Spencers head just a little louder and that meant that -

“You’re really into whatever you’ve been thinking of huh?,” you say, eyeing the hard-on in his pants casually. Spencer looks down and places a pillow on his lap, wishing to throw his entire existence into a fire and to never ever look back.

“Shit,” he doesn’t know what else to say. He’s at total wits end with himself and is forced to deal with the repercussions of his horniness.

On the other hand there was you, eyes full of delight as your mind raced with all the thoughts of what Spencer could be thinking about. Anything was good really, any level of him giving up his control to you was good. It all worked for you but whatever he’d been thinking about specifically had you itching to know.

“What could it be? I mean - seriously, I have to know what has the beloved Doctor this flustered. You have to tell me,” you say smiling. Spencer just shakes his head.

“Aww c'mon, do you want me to start guessing?,” you joke. Spencer looks at you that time and you realize that might be key. You look at him in surprise.

“Okay, well let’s think. It started when we worked together which means it was probably when we were in the field,” you start profiling Spencer, which on one hand he’s not a fan of but on another he’s a little turned on by.

You chew on your lip as you think for a minute.

“The work I do on the field sorta depends, but mostly I diffuse situations,” you say softly, really to only yourself. “But also, I do a lot of interrogations, and with the way you reacted to that whole being mean thing, I’m gonna go ahead and place my bets on that,” you conclude. You look to Spencer for approval and his eyes are hazy as he nods a yes.

You place your glass on the table, and move in front of Spencer. Normally your height isn’t all too important to him but right now your being towers over him and all he can do is look up at you. You wish you had the patience to do a little bit more teasing but you couldn’t hold back too much. Your knee is between his legs as you bend it and lean over him. Your fingers brush his hair back for a moment as you use your knuckle to pull his face up. He wants to refuse but he can’t so he lets you - looking at you tenderly. He’s cute like this.

“Spence, you know I actually like you right?,”

“No,”

You laugh lazily. Your hands on the side of his face, brushing your thumb along his cheek as you look at him adoringly.

“I like you a whole lot, probably a lot more than like - actually. So whatever we do after this - if you want to do something anyways, it’s because I actually like you,” you say softly. Spencer nods, blush staining his cheeks.

“I - uh, like you too,” he says warmly. You chew your lip.

“Can I kiss you, Spencer?,” the way you ask makes Spencer's heart melt. This was you, all at once. No sides of any coins, still kind and warm and thoughtful, but still mean and intimidating in the way Spencer likes. He wants to scream yes, but he nods instead.

You brush your lips over his for a second, smiling as he moves forwards to gain some contact. You don’t hesitate to kiss him forreal that time, lips pressed to his as your hand lays at the base of his necks, fingers pressing into his throat as he sighs. Your lips are warm, your touch is soft and Spencer could cry with how gentle you treat him. You pull away and brush your nose against his.

“For someone who kisses like that, I’m surprised you’re so into the idea of being degraded,” you chuckle. Spencer coughs and just looks at you shyly.

“Yeah, I really am,” his voice is hoarse.

You straddle yourself in Spencers lap and move the pillow. All the sudden contact makes his skin flush and he looks at you needy. Your pants are loose but your tank top is tight, and he finds his eyes looking at your chest before he can think about it. You roll your eyes at him, leaning into his neck to press a kiss on it. He whimpers and you smile - he really is desperate.

“Perv,” you murmur to him.He laughs.

“Can’t say you’re wrong,”

“Before we go any further, I wanna give you a safe word. I wouldn’t normally be doing something like this the first time for the purposes of semantics but I want you too badly to wait that long. I want to make sure it doesn’t get to be too much for you, in a bad way at least,” you say softly. Spencer looks at you and kisses you, and you laugh.

“We can do Red for Stop, Yellow for Slow Down, and Green for Go,” you explain warmly. He nods.

“Okay,” he says it back to you as he buries his face in your neck. You pet his hair and place a kiss on his head.

“Tell me what you want, angel,” you say first. Your voice is smooth like silk, the word angel rings out in his mind. It’s too pretty for what he wants you to do and maybe that's why he likes it so much. The juxtaposition to be something so pretty when all he wants you to do is ruin him.

He wants so much all at once he has trouble verbalizing any of it. It’d come out so incoherent even if he tried but he wants it, whatever the case may be. He feels your hands on his chest while you stare him down. He makes eye-contact and when he tries to look down again your hands force his chin up.

“Gotta look at me when you say it, baby. Otherwise, I won’t know who you’re talking too,” you say thoughtfully. Fuck - thats hot. Spencer swallows and nods, looking into your eyes as his mind racks itself with possibilities.

“Wanna fuck you,” he can’t believe how it sounds. He has so much more that he wants - he wants to fuck you while you absolutely take away his ability to cum. He wants to hear your voice when you talk down to him about it - about how hard he is when you get like this, and about how dirty he must really be. He wants to hear you threaten him with the possibility of being blue-balled hanging over his head. He wants you to be so fucking mean to him because he knows it doesn’t matter - he knows all the choice is yours and he really does love to please you and he knows he’s quite the masochist for it. He doesn’t care.

“I think you wanna do a little bit more than fuck me, Spence,” you giggle. Your eyes turn a shade darker as your hand moves to his throat. His hands are planted to his sides as your grip tightens around his neck - voice cold as you whisper into his ear.

“I think you want me to fuck you instead, yeah? Watch your teeth sink into your lips while I sit on your dick and make fun of you for how easy you twitch when I move. You’re so easy, Spencer,” the words leave your mouth and spill like wine. The words stain his whole mind with lust - absolutely aching to hear more. Fuck did he want that.

“Take your shirt off,” you don’t ask. He does so without warning and his eyes beg you do the same.

“I’ll take mine off when you’ve earned it, unzip your pants,” you reply nonchalant. He holds back a whimper and does so, his cock stiff against his boxer-briefs. You stand up and slide your pants off and your wearing boy-shorts, making Spencer sigh.

He looks up at you pleadingly, and you smile at him. You walk up to him again and smile, as he looks up at you. You let him lay his head on your stomach as he looks at you, your fingers tucked into his curls.

You tug them as you force him to look up at you. He groans from his throat as your other hand is placed on the side of his face. His eyes are weary as he looks at you. Your hands threaten to place a hit on him.

“You should get all that begging under control before there's a handmark on that pretty face of yours love,” you say softly. He looks at you with challenge.

“I don’t think I can, miss,” he says softly. You want to kiss him but you refrain.

“Color?,”

“Green”

You lift your hand and place a firm hit on Spencer's cheek. He relishes in the pain, the demand your fingers have in them. You command respect and he knew it deep in him. He groans at the feeling.

“Didn’t take you for the type,” your commentary is sly like Spencer likes it. It’s mean in a witty way, not degrading just to do it. It fits perfect with your demeanor and Spencer adores it.

You grab a stool from near one of Spencer bookshelves and place it between his legs. You’ve picked up tie from the ground while you sit yourself in front of him

“Stand up and turn around, and put your hands together behind your back,” you say, voice laced with faux boredom. Spencer does as told as you tie his hands together. You stare at him like that, taking note at his figure. He’s slim and it’s cute to you.

You pull his boxers down and spit into your hand, reaching around to wrap your hands around his cock. He hisses at the feeling, finding his hips rutting into them. He was so desperate for it.

“There's so much to do with you, I don’t even know where to start,” you sigh. Spencers mind races as your hand moves across him, wrapping around his length tight and letting your thumb run over his slit - just so you could feel how it twitched.

“I could make you cum like this, facing away from me - too focused on being degraded to care. You’d still get off on that wouldn’t you, angel?,” you say warmly. You stand up and place your hands under his chin. He looks down at it.

“Spit,”

He does as told. You drip it across his length and he shivers as you take him back into your pals, fingers curled tightly around his base while your other hand plays with his nipples. Your thumbs flick across them carefully and he whimpers, knees nearly folding at the sensation of pleasure.

“You don’t seem like one for visuals but maybe it’d be more fun for me if I fucked myself in front you with your hands behind your back. All of what would be on your dick, slick on my fingers instead. If I were nice, I’d let you taste me,” you muse. Spencer throws his head back at your words.

“Or maybe that type of torture isn’t your cup of tea. What’d you prefer Spencer? You cum so many times you nearly pass out from all the pleasure? At the end of all that, you’d have been so ruined that you’d have nothing to show for it when you came. Your whole body aching pleasure but with nothing left to give,” your thoughts come to you in phases but to Spencer the sound like holy scripture. Dry orgasms sound painful but Spencer was certainly intrigued.

“I wonder if you’d cry for me, baby. When your dick gets all red and sensitive and it hurts, would I have to wipe the tears off your pretty face? Sounds nice,” your voice is light and makes Spencer want to smile. He didn’t take you for that much of a sadist but he finds himself pleasantly surprised by the revelation

Your grip on his shaft tightens rather suddenly and Spencer whimpers. His voice is shaky, bare chest rising and falling at the feeling of your hands gripped around him.

“Fuck, please,” Spencer begs you to ease up but he doesn’t really want you too. You sigh, placing a kiss on his back.

“Please, what? You want me to stop?,” you ask, knowing damn well that it was the opposite. He shakes his head.

“Please let me fuck you, please,” the need in Spencer's voice was rather nice. You pull your hand off and tell Spencer to lay down on the couch. He does so without question but aches with how much he misses your touch. He moved against his restraints to try and get some friction but no luck.

He watches you as you pull down your underwear, giving him a view to how wet you are. A slick spot just sitting between your thighs, pretty as can be. Spencer's throat is dry, the urge to touch you sending his mind into agony.

“You talk too much,” your actions speak louder than words as you position yourself over Spencer's face. His neck cranes up to get a taste of you, tongue flatly along your slit trying to get some friction. You groan at the feeling, as Spencer laps at you. Flicking his tongue back and forth along your clit, curling around before sucking it into his mouth for a few seconds at a time.

“Jesus, Spencer,” you moan out to him, finger gripping in his hair. He wished he could verbalize how grateful he was, but he tried his best to show it instead. He could do this all day if you let him, and if his hands were free he’d wrap them tightly around your hips so you’d lean more weight on him. You could break his neck, honestly. It wouldn't matter to him, the way you had him feeling.

You grind your hips, rutting against Spencer's tongue as you ride yourself closer to orgasm. The sound of you getting off mixed with the taste of you on his tongue made Spencer feel like he was living off of you and he didn’t mind. You were so good to him.

“I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you,” is the last words you say before you cum all over Spencer face. Riding your orgasm out, you move and look down at Spencer, face flush. He smiles at you, absolutely ecstatic and you can’t help but laugh.

“I’ll untie you now, you did so good for me baby,” you praise softly, untying Spencer's hands. The first thing he does is sit up and wrap his arms around your waist. He places kisses along your naval as you pet his hair. He looks up at you, your orgasm still clear on his face. You cup his jaw and kiss him, just a little messy.

“You're soft, baby,” you note. He nods, seeming sleepy already and you wanna coo at him. He looks up at you again and shakes his head.

“Be mean to me, please,” his voice is shaky. You’re surprised, leaning down to give him a kiss on the forehead before you agree.

“Sit back,” you demand. He does so without question as you straddle his lap. He can feel his tip brushing back and forth between your folds as you look at him adoringly, face full of affection mixed with an urge to give him what he’s so kindly asked for.

You wrap your hands around his neck as you sink down on Spencer cock. It stretches you out slowly, wrapped tightly around Spencer. He hits your cervix with ease. His breathing is labored, his hand holding your wrist as you choke him.

“Look at you, my love. I’m taking your breath away, and you're giving it up to me just like that? You want me to wreck you that badly huh? I didn’t take your for such a slut,” you utter that last word with false confidence but the way Spencer adores every second of it gives you real confidence instead. He could cum right then and there - hearing you call him a slut makes him feel something rather unexpected. It’s an ultimate powerplay, because the both of you know that right now he’s only giving it up for you, but it implies something so much greater. He likes it so much, likes the sound of bombarding him with pleasure and degradation that when he moans, voice strained as the column of his neck gets squeezed - he doesn’t really know how to stop himself from saying again.

“You like being a slut for me baby?,” you ask, bouncing up and down on Spencer cock, feeling the way he twitches in you. You let go of his throat, and he coughs before looking at you softly. His fingers run over the feeling of your hands. Your mouth moves to his neck instead, marking hickies into it as he holds onto your hips and fucks into you. He nods his head yes at your question.

“You’re so needy, love,” you remark, pulling back and using your fingers to rub your clit as Spencer fucks into you. You cum again a second time, convulsing around Spencer's length as you moan his name.

“Please, please can I cum?,” Spencer asks politely. You’d love to tease him more, but you figure it may be too much for him so you just nod. You kiss him softly.

“Anywhere you wanna finish?,” you ask. He looks immediately at your chest. You take off your tank top and bra and get on your knees for Spencer as he finishes on your chest, voice groaning your name.

“Y/N - fuck, oh my god,” His eyes are shut in pleasure and you can’t help but smile at him. When he comes down from his high and sees you stood up, looking for your clothes - he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you and pull you down to the couch. You giggle as he does.

“You did so good for me, baby. You’re such a good boy,” the praises fall from your lips with ease as Spencer mutters a flushed thank you. You reach to the table for a tissue as you wipe the cum off of your chest, making Spencer snort.

You turn around to be facing Spencer, naked bodies just holding each other. You play with Spencer's hair pressing constant kisses into his shoulders, or on his forehead. Anywhere you can get them really.

“It’s time for aftercare soon, but we can sit here a little longer if you like. Just no sleeping until we’ve showered and eaten and you’re taken care of, okay?,” you say lovingly, tucking Spencer's hair back behind his ear. He smiles at you softly, the feeling of being pampered like that holding him close.

“Hey, Y/N,” he looks at you with adoration “Will you please be my girlfriend? Cause I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you,” he says with sincerity. You can’t help but chuckle as you kiss him slowly.

“Yes, Spence, of course. I’m in love with you too, by the way,” you say back. Spencer simply smiles, hugging you tight and hoping to never let you go.

______

taglist: @cynbx @skrrrrrrrrrrt @zephyr-studiesjp @reid-187

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #sub!spencer #sub!spencer reid #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds self insert #spencer x reader #criminal minds x reader #this is so self indulgent #i do think spencer is a sub though through and through #switch leaning sub imo #feel free to ask me about it i can analyze it in great depth bc i think about That Much #author is trash anyways #hope someone else like this at least

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ohallthecrushes · 4 years

Text

That one day... // Arthur Fleck x Reader

A/N: I’m tired, my lower back is in pain and I should be sleeping, but my hyperfocus didn’t let me. xD So somehow I made this one shot that I was pretty sure I’d never finish. Arthur is sweet, but dark and creepy and in love with reader.

Summary: You and Arthur just became friends. He fell in love with you from the beginning, but because you were hurt before you want to stay just friends with him. You thought he’d be ok with it, but of course he’s not. Soon you start falling in love with him too, but having in mind what you decided before, you try to ignore your feelings for him. When you finally let him know, he doesn’t believe you and it turns out into a little disaster. Can someone teach me how to write good summary?

Word counts:2293

You and Arthur were friends for some time now. One month to be more precisely. It all started with you coming up to him and asking if he was alright after you saw him standing before a building you lived in...

Looking lost in thoughts.

In the middle of a pouring rain.

Without an umbrella.

Broken down and beaten up.

It was a simple gesture of kindness that you took him to the nearest donuts shop and bought him a hot coffee to warm him up. You sat down with him and made him to talk. Reassuring him that you wanted to sit there with him and you actually wanted to help even by just lending an ear.

It was a gesture of kindness, but it was a magic moment to Arthur.

His life had changed that day.

You gave him your phone number, just in case he ever wanted to talk again and he thanked you and apologized to you for the trouble at least seven times before you two left the shop and separated.

He didn’t call you the next days, weeks even, which felt somewhat disappointing. You were hoping that he would call to offer you a coffee or something like that. Not that you wanted him to repay you. You just... You felt like he was a good sensitive man, a gentle soul so hard to find in Gotham that you would like to know better.

It was a shame that he wasn’t interested.

But then, you couldn’t know that he spent two whole weeks following you around, getting information about you and learning your daily habits.

You couldn’t know. He made sure of that.

It was that one day when you accidentally bumped on him when you were going back from work that he invited you to your favorite coffee shop down the street. You agreed with a smile, lucky you felt that day.

He appeared to you as a shy, timid man with daily struggle and mental problems but also with big hopes and dreams.

He was always polite and considerate of your feelings, and he asked you a lot of questions about you and your life.

Some were simple and silly like your favourite color or songs you often listened to.

Some were more intimate and even inappropriate at times. But you were never upset with him for asking such. You knew he didn’t have any friends that he could learnt from what healthy boundaries were.

Until now, of course.

You became his friend and you two began to meet more often. He opened up to you some time later and you could see how much more comfortable he started to feel around you.

You even noticed that he felt comfortable enough to gently brushed his hand over yours when you two were walking through a park. Something was in the air...

That was when you had to stop him.

- Arthur...

- Yes?

- Remember when I told you about my ex boyfriend? And how fucked up our relationship was?

- Yes...

- You know... how... hurt I was. I’m not ready to start dating yet. I hope you understand that and you don’t take it personally, I...

- Oh, it’s alright - he nodded his head a little to vigorously to fully hide that he’d been hoping for something to happen between you - I didn’t try to do anything, just... I get that you’re not ready, I do. I’d like us to stay friends too.

- You’re sure?

- Mhm - the way he lowered his head and avoid the eye contact told you he wasn’t fully honest.

- Artie...

- I’ll be alright, really. I have feelings for you, you know, but I don’t want to destroy what we already have. You’re my friend... You’re my only friend. I don’t wanna lose you.

You wanted to say something, but he smiled at you softly.

- Don’t worry about me, Y/N, I’ll be fine.

That day you were foolish enough to think that he actually would be alright about you two being just friends. He seemed fine at that moment and you thought that because it was just the beginning that his feelings for you weren’t strong enough yet, so they would be easier to suppress, easier to ignore. As if it was something he could just take back.

But he was already far too deep and beyond the point of turning back.

***********************************************************

You didn’t get back to that topic ever again.

You kept hanging out with each other everyday you could, and everyday when you couldn’t you were talking by phone, telling each other how your day was and sharing your thoughts on different topics. He was telling you jokes and listening you laughing. While you were feeding him with your home made cookies and watching him dance in his Carnival costume. You kept each other company as friends do, ignoring the fact that sometimes, just sometimes he looked at you with an old hope and longing.

You stayed just friends.

But your smile was his favourite thing in this world to look at.

And he occasionally told you a few compliments to make you blush as well - his second favorite thing to look at.

But his voice was the last thing you heard before you went to sleep and the first thing you heard when you woke up.

But “goodmornings and goodbyes” became your daily habits. Something you couldn’t get through a day and night without.

But he sometimes surprised you with small gifts, like your favorite cupcake or something related to your hobby. Smallest things so you wouldn’t forget about him.

But everyday you were getting more and more excited to see him.

And before you know... You were far too deep and beyond the point of turning back.

******************************************

It was that one day when you two were chilling on his couch, drinking tea and watching old comedies. You were facing each other and silly laughing about... oh who cares what.

You felt happy when he was around you. You felt excited when he looked at you or called you by your name. You felt things towards him a friend shouldn’t feel.

You had realized that a week before, but you’d tried to ignore it. You’d managed to ignore it somehow even though it hurt you inside. It burnt a hole in your heart when you also had realized that you couldn't tell him. After all you were the one that had insisted to stay just friends. You were the one thinking foolishly that feelings can be easily repressed or forgotten. You should had knew better than that.

Your eyes were wandering all over his face as you tried to silence your heart at that moment.

But his small hiccups were adorable and his smile was so wide and his crooked tooth looked so cute.

But you couldn’t look away from his lips as well.

You couldn’t take it anymore. How could you be so naive? How could you deny him and yourself something you both felt so deeply?

You stopped smiling and started screaming inside.

- Y/N? - he asked puzzled and concerned as he reached out to touch your arm - What’s wrong? You look like you’re in pain...

You were in pain, indeed.

To stop yourself from crying you started laughing. But it was a sad laugh that Arthur wasn’t amused with.

- Y/N?

- Oh god! I can’t... I can’t do this anymore - you shook your head as you dramatically covered your face with your hands and put your head up. You couldn’t just sit there pretending anymore, hurting your feelings like that.

Arthur stared at you confused and worried, wondering what made you say that and what did you mean.

He’d noticed that you’d been acting weird lately, that during conversations your head had been somewhere else and it was as if you'd been hiding something before him. He didn’t want to pry, but he couldn’t help but felt that whatever that was, had something to do with him.

Suddenly he felt insecure again. His old demons started barking.

Did you just... agree that you couldn’t stand him and pretend to be his friend anymore? Did one of his fear just became a reality?

- W-what are you saying? What d-do you mean you can’t?

You spread your fingers to look at him. You didn’t want to take your hands off your face, cause you knew you were blushing like hell.

- I can’t just... - you took a deep breath - i can’t just be your friend...

Something in his eyes told you that you just hurt his feelings in an awful way. You didn’t mean to! Oh no, let me explain!

- I mean I... I didn’t want to sound... I find it hard to... - you struggled with your words and you saw how the light in his eyes slowly disappeared, replaced by something much darker and empty.

He thought he was right, his brain hadn’t lied to him this time. You really did despise him, didn’t you? You had just pretended that you liked him, because you felt pity for him, when in reality you couldn’t even stand him. He was right from the beginning, wasn’t he? He clutched his fists and felt like his lower lip began to shake as well as one of his knee.

You couldn’t see how scared he was, how disappointed and hurt, cause you shut your eyes closed, trying to focus on the right words. But the right words just couldn’t came out and you felt frustrated with your own disability to handle this conversation that you’d just started.

- Oh, for fuck’s sake - you said as you opened your eyes and leaned forward, letting your lips express what your mind couldn’t. You kissed him or more likely pressed your lips to his in a little desperate manner, silencing you both from racing thoughts for a brief moment. Then you leaned back, opened your eyes and waited. He looked at you confused and anxious and you knew what was coming next.

He pressed his hands to the place where your lips had been just a second ago and burst into a very loud very hurtful laughter. His body turned away from you shaking as if he wanted to hide himself from you, from your sight, so you wouldn’t pity him even more. He could feel your hand gently caressing his back as you always did when he had his fit, but you did this only because you had to, right? You didn’t really want to be there with him or for him in that matter. He was just a freak to you. He was just. A. Freak. A very naive freak.

- W-why... are... why are y-you... mocking me... like this?! - he managed to gasped out as his laughter scaled down. He was siting with his head lowered and his eyes on the floor. His eyebrows were knitted, his leg was bouncing fast and he was seriously upset.

- What? I’m not... - you were confused now, his sudden outburst made you withdraw your hand. Wasn’t you clear enough with your kiss? - I’m not mocking you, Arthur, I’m...

- You know I have feelings for you and you’re mocking me with that kiss!

- I’m not! That’s not what I wanted to-

- You said - he interjected you - that you can’t do this anymore. That you can’t be my friend! What you meant is that you can’t pretend anymore that you like me. You said that! And then - he glared at you with a hurtful look in his eyes - then you kissed me to mock me - he added with a lower much more quiet voice. For a moment you were afraid to speak up.

But you started to grasp on his way of thinking. And... oh boy.

- No... You’re wrong, Arthur. I didn’t kiss you to mock you. Why would I.. - you sighed - What I meant by that is... I have feelings for you too and that’s why I can’t pretend to be just your friend anymore.

He looked away and took a moment to process your words. He didn’t look at you and you were afraid that he wouldn’t believe you, but his leg slowly stopped bouncing and when he finally looked at you, his eyes were soft looking and his voice didn’t sound so dangerous.

He didn’t fully believe you, but he was getting there.

- You... have feelings for me too? - he repeated very slowly as he was still processing what he’d heard.

- Yes, I do. I’m sorry I wasn’t clear enough with that before.

Slowly his body turned to you and he became visibly more relaxed. His eyebrows twitched as he finally got what you were saying.

- But you said before that you wanted to stay friends...

- I know and that was... well, very stupid of me.

You took his hand in yours.

- I fell in love with you Arthur and if you still feel the same about me... Then I’m ready to start something new.

His face lightened up with a big smile and you saw tears in his eyes.

- Y/N... Oh god, I’m so sorry I reacted like that! I thought that... I let myself thought things I shouldn’t have. But that was my...

- ... your fears talking, I know.

He gently squeezed your hand and leaned down to assure you that he still felt the same about you.

He cupped your face and kissed you with an overflow of passion.

That day your life had changed.

#arthur fleck #joker #arthur fleck x reader #joker x reader #joker arthur fleck #arthur fleck imagines #joker imagines

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5lazarus · 3 years

Text

Sunrise, Parabellum

A Disco Elysium fanfiction

Early Wednesday morning, before Harry's woken up and before they've closed the water lock and headed to the fishing village, Kim Kitsuragi gets up and wants a cigarette. He has a cup of coffee instead and contemplates his partner's newfound sobriety. Sunrise, parabellum: he gets up and prepares for war.

Content Tags: Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, POV Kim Kitsuragi, Sobriety

Read on Archive of Our Own here.

Dawn’s both blue and gold, it doesn’t matter. Night lightens to yellow, all primary colors contained in the sun inking over the dirty sea. He wakes up and it’s not raining, not yet, but it always will be.

It’s some sort of habit, waking up in the predawn light. Kim’s mouth is still dirty from last night’s cigarette. The sheets are stale at the Whirling-in-Rags, and the same tinny disco anthem is playing downstairs from a breaking radio. A shower makes it better, brushing his teeth, checking the damage of a day and a night of deadends and deadness. The body’s not hanging from the tree outside the bathroom window anymore, but Kim can still see the skids. Cuno is twitching with Cunoesse, throwing stones at the space where the corpse used to be. Next door the corpse twitches back to life, and Kim thinks, can he do it? Another day sober? He took the liquor off those trio of drunks, but he hasn’t drunk it yet—he pitched that pétanque right into the sea sober.

“Idiot,” Kim says, affectionately, where no one else can see.

Downstairs coffee is already percolating in the kitchen, black and noxious and comforting, and Kim remembers the camaraderie of the dawn at the precinct, the night shift graying up as morning shuffled in, exchanging dirty cups. The woman next door, a suspect not-a-suspect, has already poured herself a mug. She glances at him sardonically. He does not think she has been to sleep yet.

“Good morning, detective.” Some people’s voices are naturally laconic. Kim can recognize himself in her voice; irony runs their lives.

“Miss,” he says. Formality is not just safe, it’s necessary. Klaasje gives him a tremulous smile. Her make-up is perfect but her eyes are red. Still, she is sober. He nods stiffly at her. Not everyone has discipline. Not everyone has had the gift of it being taught.

Kim situates himself at the bar along the window and drinks his coffee. The bitter taste explodes him awake: he loves that it is burnt. The strikers shuffle in as the dawn brings in some warmth to the cool tones of a Revachol night. The Hardie Boys stare at him as they head to the kitchen, to get their hearty meals Evrart has already paid for: bacon, eggs fried in the grease with even more butter, toast dripping with the droppings, endless permutations of potato. Kim is watching his cholesterol and his blood sugar. Revachol has weakened his heart enough. He sticks to bad coffee and a single cigarette. His only vice is moderation. With a partner like Harrier du Bois, it’s a compliment.

The union lawyer is staring at him. He can see her reflection in the window. Elizabeth Beaufort: he has been scrupulously polite to her, and she has been scrupulously polite to him, though it has been mildly entertaining to watch Harry poke at her and drive her blood pressure up. He wonders if she will talk to him. She looks like she wants to talk.

He finishes his coffee and weaves through the tables to return his mug to the kitchen. The cook grins at him. He nods coolly back. Next to the lawyer now, he waits.

She says, “The punks don’t mean any harm.”

“I beg your pardon?” He glances at her but does not deploy the eyebrow yet.

“They’re just admiring the Coupris Kineema. It’s a beautiful piece of work.”

“I know,” Kim says simply. It is. He has made it something gorgeous.

Then Elizabeth smiles meanly. Kim tenses. She says, “It’s a shame about the hubcaps. I stopped by Bird’s Nest Roy’s and….”

Kim raises an eyebrow. Elizabeth stops. He walks away before she can continue to attempt to bribe him pushes open the heavy glass doors. The dawn has come and gone; it is firmly a periwinkle morning now. He goes to his Coupris and leans against it. It’s comforting, the only thing in this case that is.

“Sunrise, parabellum,” Kim mutters. It’s dawn in Revachol. He’s alone on this cool, damp morning. He misses Dom, he misses Eyes. He misses having a lover to slip past in the blue light of the waking night, reaching for his glasses and smiling as he, whoever he could be, snaps so wonderfully to hyperfocus. However, sentimentality is a weakness—Harry is proof enough—and he has indulged sentiment enough. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the wrong handkerchief: red, lace-edges, and hurriedly stuffs that back into his pocket. He finds one he can dirty, and wipes the clinging smog from the windshield.

“Kim!” Harry runs up to him. “Kim!” He is excited—no, manic—like a puppy. Kim regards him silently. He is still wearing that outlandish tie, but he has substituted the blazer with an RCM jacket. “You’re back! How was Processing?”

“Brutal, as I told you,” Kim says. Delicately, he sniffs. Harry has cleaned himself since handling the corpse. While his face is still puffy, his mustache is clean, and his eyes have reduced to an acceptable level of bloodshot. He is pleased. The detective has made it to forty-eight hours of sobriety. Kim decides to relent. “And you’ve rested?”

Harry shrugs. “Well, you know the city. It gets into your dreams.”

Kim does, and he does not speak of it. “Quite. Now, detective, where are we to go next?” Harry outranks him, but the 51st expected him to take the lead. He is happy to encourage responsibility and discipline when he sees an opportunity, however. Harry grabs at it. He pulls out his ledger.

“This is Oblivion,” Harry tells him very seriously.

Kim does not blink. “Okay.” Dom used to be worse.

“We should be able to close the water lock, if the repair crew was on schedule. And personally, I’d like to track down our merry joyrider’s journey through Martinaise. We’ll find what we need today, Kim, I’ll calling it now!” He grins at him desperately. “We’re getting this case back on track!”

Kim sighs. It is always too early an hour for relentless optimism. He wants a cigarette. He does not need a cigarette. He quashes the desire and looks at him instead. Harry woke up crying, Kim thinks. He’s trying. At least he is trying. So few even bother.

Kim says, “Then let us go, detective.” Harry puts his hand on the handle of the Coupris. Kim resists the urge to slap it away. “On foot. You are not touching my car.”

To his surprise, Harry lets loose a genuine belly-laugh, guffaws startling the seagulls from the roof of Whirling-in-Rags. “Aw, Kim,” he says, wiping at his eyes, “I wouldn’t dare. Lead the way.”

He takes the first step, of course, but lets Harry overtake him by half a pace, and greets the new day.

#disco elysium #disco elysium fanfic #disco elysium fanfiction #fanfic #kim kitsuragi #harrier du bois #harry du bois #elizabeth beaufort #pre-relationship #Kim POV #harry du bois/kim kitsuragi #pre-slash

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the-stray-liger · 4 years

Note

As a student in art school about to graduate- do you have any tips to get in the habit of taking breaks and avoiding burnout?

The thing with breaks is that you either take the fucking break or your body will decide when to take it for you and you will not like it. The brain is like any other organ, if you don’t use it enough it weakens and if you overexert it it will fail and leave you incapacitated

Set timers. Set as many timers as you can and follow them religiously. I know a lot of artists think that taking a break means stop making art for work/school and making personal art but that is super fucking wrong. You need REAL breaks during which you DON’T make any fucking art. Lock your computer or your tablet, put your sketchbook away and for a while dedicate yourself to do something you enjoy that isn’t art. Art schools inp articular love pushing the narrative in whcih if you’re not making art and suffering 24/7 you’re not a real artist. Fuck that SHIT in the ass with a fucking cactus

Consuming new media is like charging batteries for your brain. Just like eating, you need to consume things to keep your brain nourished so it can create and work properly. Read a book, watch a movie, read some comics, watch anime, whatever inspires you and makes you feel good. Go outside, play some games, love your pet, talk to another person, ya know the drill

Have some hobbies that aren’t art related. I love building gunpla for example, that is a wonderful way to keep my hands and brain occupied and it’s stimulating and super fun because you’re actually making something and it’s very fullfilling

Again, set up a schedule AND FUCKING FOLLOW IT, take your breaks on time, SLEEP AND EAT PROPERLY. I know half of this goddamn website is adhd (I am too) so following schedules isn’t something that comes naturally, but just like you have learned to have the discipline to draw every day you WILL have to learn the discipline to take care of your fucking brain whether you like it or not.

I know hyperfocus is how a lot of adhd/nd folks out there manage to stay productive but it’s not healthy, at all. I know it because I was a victim of it, I hyperfocused on art and that contributed a lot to my burnout because I stayed working for hours even after I was physically exhausted. You can’t let your neurodivergency take control of your life like that to the point where you have worked so much you’re physically and mentally unable to do it anymore. That’s why it’s important to set timers and force yourself to fucking follow the fucking schedule

Try different things. If you’re a lineart based artist like me, give painting a shot. If you’re a painter try doing something cartoony. If you dry mostly digital try traditional art. You know the drill, try to expand your skillset, learn something new for fun. That keeps your brain active and lets you be creative in a different way. It’s cool to have preferences when it comes to art, but if you stay drawing always the same thing you will not only not progress but you will get tired very fast and burn out.

Not really related but also kinda related: be really careful with social media. Nowadays every website’s objective is to fuck artists over as much as possible by reducing their visibility and hence the amount of notes/views the artists get and for many artists that is literally their livelihood. Ngl it’s good to have your effort seen and recognized and praised but part of my burnout was also due to trying to keep up with punitive algoritms that killed my visibility. I tried to work more, harder, I tried anything to try and get my art to be more popular and when I didn’t get a proportionate response I collapsed. I have a personality disorder in which I am pretty much unable to define myself if I’m not being validated by other ppl and this treatment from social media straight up destroyed me. So again, be careful not to make the amount of notes you get online the only source of validation and approval. Learn to love your work and appreciate your own effort, that will teach you to not push yourself to the point of burnout too

Anyway sorry if I seem aggressive I am very very very stressed right now but I promise I really really want to help as many ppl as I can avoid the shit I have been dealing with for more than a year now

Congratulations on your graduation anon!!! I hope you all the good luck and happiness in the world, I hope this helps somehhow!

#Anonymous

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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years

Text

Somebody to You - Anders Harris x Reader (The Land of Steady Habits)

Author’s Note: Super Short Prompt request by a dear friend 😘💙 Thank you for requesting! Always happy to take requests if you ever do want to send anymore! 😁

I know I say this quite often these days, but when characters are this easy to write it really is a wonder that I don’t write for them more often? Instead I spend it on characters that I have to hyperfocus on to get completely right... Andrew!

Disclaimer: TLoSH characters, gifs and lyrics not mine.

Premise: “It’s too cold to get up and make coffee” 😉

Words: 1438

Warnings: one tinsy-tiny little sex reference. (It’s basically N/A)

________

Look at me now, I'm falling I can't even talk, still stuttering This ground I'm on, it keeps shaking I used to run around I didn't wanna settle down But now I wake each day Looking for a way that I can see your face I've got your photograph But, baby, I need more than that I need to know your lips Nothing ever mattered to me more than this

All I wanna be, yeah all I ever wanna be, yeah, yeah Is somebody to you All I wanna be, yeah all I ever wanna be, yeah, yeah Is somebody to you Everybody's trying to be a billionaire But every time I look at you I just don't care 'Cause all I wanna be, yeah all I ever wanna be, yeah, yeah Is somebody to you

---

It was certainly cold today. Colder than it had been in weeks. Nobody need tell you that, the fact that you weren’t too hot bundled under duvet and blankets, and tucked up under Anders’ body told you that. Tentatively you snaked your hand out to find your phone or clock – what time…? And almost immediately regretted it, pulling yourself back in – nope! That was ridiculous though, there was heating in this house, right? Having said that, you knew that for this exact sleeping position to work – and Anders was always very handsy – he didn’t like the house too hot in the evening. That better be all it was, or you’d be kicking your retired finance professional out of bed to fix the heating before you so much as put a toe outside the covers. When you questioned the decision to turn the heating down in the coldest part of the day, Anders trying to give you some excuse about bad dreams only had you raising your eyebrow at him and telling him to pull the other one! But he just liked cuddling you, and that was something you’d never complain about. As soon as your hand retracted again Anders pulled you closer. “You better not be even thinking of leaving…” “I just wanted to know the time.” You wound your arms around his, tracing gentle patterns into his skin. “Too early. There.” “Thank God I have such a helpful boyfriend.” “Damn right!” He chuckled, shifting his body from yours to relieve you of his weight. “I was about to say, he’s a little heavy though.” Arms still around you he pulled your back to his chest, pressing a kiss into your shoulder. “Naah…” You couldn’t help but grin as Anders traced his lips across your shoulders and neck, “If he says so.” You weren’t sure if you did drift back to sleep in his arms or not, but Anders was active this morning. Make no mistake, all that kinetic attention was on you. Although you weren’t really talking to each other beyond the occasional two sentence conversation, that didn’t matter too much. You’d been dating long enough to know each other and be comfortable even in complete silence, his head nestled with yours in the curve of your neck, legs tucked up under yours in the shape you lay in: sometimes he’d tangle your legs with his, but not this morning. Anders withdrew his arms from your embrace, running his hands over your arms soothingly as he placed another gentle kiss to the back of your neck. “You’re tense.” “Am I?” “Very.” He continued to rub your arms, graduating to your back – although he tried not to move too far away as he massaged gentle circles into you. “What do you expect, working in NYC?” “God, just give up! I did---! Oh, Baby…” His intake of breath was sharp as he got to your lower back, circles comforting. You wriggled under his fingertips, “Ah, uh huh. That’s good.” “Yeah?” You could feel his smile as his lips pressed into your shoulder again. “Yes…” You breathed, letting Anders work the tension out of your muscles. He was soft with you, wanting nothing more than for you to relax into his morning snuggles. That was fine with you – you had a man who treated you well and took care of you. In his eyes, the longer he got to keep his hands on you the better, no matter what capacity that might be in. Though if Anders moved them much lower, he’d probably get smacked. As he continued to rub these circles into your lower back - they became absentminded waves and patterns as his concentration lapsed – Anders took the opportunity to whisper sweet nothings that made you both beam and turn various shades of pink, eventually burying your face in your pillow, getting him laughing again. When you felt that your muscles may have relaxed enough, you became a little impatient; eventually grabbing his hands back, you just wanted Anders’ arms around you again. Although you didn’t stay like that for too long, and you turned yourself around in his embrace, small pout on your face. “What?” “I can’t kiss you when my back is to you.” “I was fine kissing you.” “Oh my god – shut up-!” You knew he was about to ask you to make him, so you caught his lips before Anders had the chance. He pulled your body closer to his, and this time did thread your legs together, linking his hands behind your back to continue to sooth you; rubbing his thumbs in the same gentle circles with that little love-struck bashful smile of his. You sappy idiot… These slow, sweet kisses continued into a full make-out session, with your arms tangled around his shoulders and then fingers tangled in his hair before you had to let him go. At first Anders was a little confused, until you began to yawn. Immediately his confusion was replaced with a smug grin: “Oh, uh huh, someone isn’t awake yet, it’s certainly too early.” You shoved him playfully, “Nah, I just need coffee.” Anders nodded his approval, “Great, I’ll take mine black… little bit of sugar.” You folded your arms, “Excuse me? You’re not expecting me to get out of bed and make it?!” “I thought that’s exactly where this conversation was heading.” He stretched out, eying you. “Uh, no.” “Well, then I guess you’re not getting coffee.” “Are you kidding me?! You’re not either then.” He shrugged, “I don’t need it – you’re the one who is sleepy.” “You’re gonna make your girlfriend brave freezing temperatures to bring you coffee?” “Yup. Anyway I’m older so I’m WAY more likely to succumb to the conditions…!” You narrowed your eyes at him, but Anders clearly wasn’t about to budge. Instead you just snuggled your form into his, Anders enveloped you in his arms once more, rubbing his hands over your back again. You made your voice sweet and persuasive: “I’m not tired or sleepy, just I’m relaxed and with someone I love and trust…” There was a long pause, and Anders cleared his throat, “Well how am I supposed to be snarky back to that-!” You laughed, almost triumphantly, “You’re not, you’re supposed to get me coffee!” He scoffed, back to his previous argument, “NO chance! I’ll freeze to death!” “Well, someone’s gotta do it.” “What are you suggesting? We draw straws?” “... You got any straws to draw?” You quirked an eyebrow; it wouldn’t surprise you, with his idea of decorating. Anders looked at his bedside table “Uhm. Unfortunately void of late-night binge drinking glasses and tiny plastic straws. Sorry, looks like we’re staying here.” “You’re infuriating, you know that right?” “Well, you’re still here.” He stretched again, and this time it was Anders’ turn to yawn, “No one is making you stay…” He folded his arms, jokingly turning his body half away from you. You whined gently, winding your arms around him tight and lying your head on his chest, smiling at just how warm he really was; “No one has to.”

You cracked an eye open to his next round of shuffling, and found him typing away on his mobile, “What are you doing?!?” You attempted to shift yourself across his chest to see the screen, whilst also keeping track of his heart under your fingertips. Moving your hands in soothing patterns over his skin to reciprocate his own movements over yours. Anders placed a gentle thank you kiss to your forehead as he replied; “Texting Preston.” “To achieve what exactly?” Your eyebrow raised, confused. “Well neither of us want to get up and get coffee, so, I’m sure he’s about.” Anders drew your body as close as possible to his, as if to prove a point once more about the cold air – although you weren’t arguing – “I’ll invite him for breakfast and he can bring the coffee!” “You are unbelievable!” So, he wouldn’t even get out of bed to make you coffee, but he’d make his son drive across town!? Also, wouldn’t one of you have to open the door for the poor guy? “I believe the word is... resourceful!” Anders smiled as Preston came back that it sounded like a great idea! You rolled again, propping yourself up on his chest; “And who is gonna make breakfast, pray tell?” Anders rolled his eyes and sighed, stroking a hand through your hair and traced his fingertips delicately down your back: “Oh... I’ll do it,” He ran his other fingers under your chin to persuade your lips to his, “just give me 10 more minutes!”

---

Thank you for requesting! Thank you for reading! 😘💕

#Obligatory Preston mention #Anders Harris #Ben Mendelsohn #The Land of Steady Habits #Anders Harris x Reader #Anders x Reader #Linzi Writes Requests #Smol Bean Drabbles #Linzi Writes #Anders gets all the boy band songs #But I stumbled across this one by accident.#And I love it. So there we are.#Anya #184

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tokyoghoose · 4 years

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am i more than you bargained for?

pairing: tetsuro kuroo x reader

playlist: heather - conan gray*, 4ever - clairo, line without a hook - ricky montgomery, melting - kali uchis, slow dancing in the dark - joji, using you - mars argo, she - ed sheeran, make you feel my love - adele, letter home - childish gambino, she's casual - the hunna, i love you so - the walters, notice me (acoustic) - role model, red dress - postcard boy

warnings: angst and lots of it, mentions of sex, mentions self-shaming of image, very breif mention of anxiety attacks

summary: a romantic comedy without the comedy between friends with benefits

announcements!

kuroo is definitely a little ooc in this lmao buuuut this is my first like fic fic in like two years. Im still trying to get back in the groove of things and finding how to write personality again and not be repetitive with my wording. Feedback is welcome!

requests are open! feel free to send them in! i will write for pretty much any anime ive seen and if i haven't seen it, ill watch it! the only reasons i wouldn't is if im uncomfortable or can't write the character. :)

——————

When did relationships become so difficult? The days of making friends on the playground were over and it seemed to hit everyone at the same age. Life was getting harder and people were getting older, and suddenly everything was difficult. Nothing came easy anymore and everyone had to adjust to that.

But now you were just confused.

Tetsuro kuroo stuck to you like glue since middle school. Where one of you went the other was likely to follow. The righthand man, the double trouble duo, and the bane of kenma's existence. And then things got complicated. Strangers to friends to best friends to lovers— friends with benefits. Who would've thought the boy that you played volleyball with on a whim would've become the man who you grew fond of. Sixth grade you would've kicked yourself for the feelings you're experiencing. Oh how you wished you were back in the park that started it all. You wished you could warn your youngerself what's to come.

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks and it made you want to throw up at the thought.

It started in the first year of highschool when you suddenly noticed the shine in his eyes when he talked passionately about something like volleyball or the way he would furrow his brows when concentrated on his assignments. At first it was endearing, really. But the more you hung around him, the stronger the butterflies felt. It was obvious that he had grown into his lanky body. His legs were proportionate to his torso now and his once scrawny arms didn't hang limply at his sides anymore. He had muscle and height now. Gradually you started to notice little things about him that you would never have seen in other people. Like his lopsidded smile that crinkled the corner of his eyes and brought heat to your cheeks, your stomach launching into your chest when he'd bump shoulders and laugh.

You should've just smacked yourself silly then and there when you started to wonder if he noticed little things about you. Does he think of me like i think of him?

Who knew feelings could be so...perplexing. You moved on, shrugging off the crush in your second year to catch bigger and better fish in the sea. Life moved on and you dated other people, simply remaining friends with kuroo. Little did you know one heartbreak would lead you into his bed, playing in the sheets by the end of the year.

He was just so damn compelling. His laughter and his jokes. You fell for it all over again. Deja vu. Stupid kuroo.

———

The third of highschool had been the breaking point. It was a constant cycle of feeling, fucking, and falling in and out of love with the raven haired boy. It was frustrating, especially when he was so damn oblivious. The only person that seemed to catch on was kenma, but he was very little help when it came to pushing away the domestic thoughts. It would never just work out because you wanted it to because tetsuro was dumb.

It's a chilly day out, the sun nice against your skin but the wind was drastic in comparison. Shivers are sent up and down your spine, you wrap your arms around yourself in a hug. Could this boy take any longer? Foot tapping against the pavement, you heave a sigh, nostils flaring impatiently before you spot the tall athlete. With a girl. A girl?

You'd seen her around before and you vaguely remember thinking she resembled the main love interest in a 90s movie or a bratz doll. She's pretty and has a light, airy laugh. Kuroo must've told her a joke of some kind, but he definitely wasn't funny enough for her to have her hands all over his chest. He's giving her a toothy grin and soft eyes. It makes you want to gag.

Who was she anyway?

Not that it mattered because in that moment the fit of rage your body suddenly flug itself into prevented you from hearing anything. Kuroo's pulling off his pullover and drapping it over the pretty girl's shoulders. You can feel your eye twitch and fibgers tingle. He looks bashful as he waves her goodbye and tragically, you don't feel nearly as pretty as you had been feeling. Now all you wanted to do was sink into the ground below you and possibly into another dimension—or at least the other side of the world.

"She's pretty," is the first thing that comes out of your mouth when he comes over, slouching with his hands in the pockets of his shorts. He had practice this afternoon, you remember. He looks over at you with raised brows, almost like he's surprised yoy said anything or even noticed he was talking to another girl before walking towards the gym with you trailing close behind.

"Yeah she is, I guess."

She's prettier than me.

"You guess? Kuroo, you gave her your sweater."

He shrugs sheepishly, a light pink dusting his cheeks and it makes you mad of uncharacteristic the act is. You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"It's just polyester. It's not a big deal."

The conversation suddenly drops as you pause, apparently very hurt that he didn't remember it was you who gave him the sweater in the first place. He turns around, a questioning look on his face.

"What? Are you jealous?" He teases.

You're fuming at his attempt to be playful. Maybe you were overreacting, but it pangs your chest to know he can brush it off so easily.

" Kuroo, that was my sweater. "

It's gritted through your teeth, eyes slotted into a glare and his face drops. Oh is all he can think as he stares at you and the hurt expression that quickly turns into that of annoyance and anger. You push past him, ultimately deciding not to walk him to the gym. His arm reaches out to catch you, but it falls short as he calls out in a whine, "I'll get it back for you, okay? Come on, y/n!"

———

You can't focus on the assignments in front of you no matter how hard you try. You are exsausted. Just wanting to crawl under the covers and sleep for maybe a thousand years, you stop tapping your oen against the paper to hyperfocus on the black dots that now littered the page. The music in the background pauses before coming back to life with the hum of a new song shuffling in. It's quiet and yet, it's overwhelming. You wish you weren't home alone now.

Hanging your head low on your desk, the carpet becoming of interest, you groan. The image of kuroo and that girl replaying in your head over and over like an endless movie. You'd have to give it a bad review if it ever ended.

You're focus is mainly on her though. Kuroo could get any girl he wants with his witt and charm. Not to mention he wasn't jusf handsome, but he's beautiful. Model material—movie character love interest type beat. He has the ability to make any heart swoon if he tries hadd enough, and that girl was no exception. She was more than pretty. She was stunning, even. It was like watching human barbie and ken flirt with one another. She seems so nice too and you can vaguely remember her helping you wish a couple answers on homework one morning. She's better than you and better for him. Is he sleeping with her too? Before you can answer your own question the doorbell rings, quickly followed by a knock at your door.

You look down at your pajamas, debating if you should pull on your robe or not, but ultimately deciding against it when the knocks come again.

"Im coming, I'm coming. What do you wan- kuroo?"

When you open the door, you immediately get the urge to shut it right in his perfect little face, and you begin to before his hand slams against it in protest to push it open wider. He juts out his lip into a pout and his eyes soften into ones pleading like a puppy dog. You huff and avoid eye contact, instead taking intrest in the bad he was carrying.

"What's that?"

"Stuff. I'd be happy to show you if you let me in."

"Sorry, tetsuro, no can do. You haven't returned my sweater. "

He scoffs and rolls his eyes before shoving something bulky into your arms. You're not sure if you should be happy he actually got it back or upset that he had to see her again to get it. Finally looking up at him, you move to the side so he can step in.

"You know, you don't have to be jealous that i gave another girl a sweater. You're my number one, y/n." He's teasing, but his words still send the butterflies in your stomach crazy. You can only hope he means it, even if just a little.

"I'm not jealous. You can sleep with whoever you want, kuroo. We're just best friends—if anything im your wingman. "

You want to hit yourself on the head. Why would you say that?

He snickers at the rebuttle, coming to loom over you. Apparently the only thing that can get you out of your head is his cologne because it somehow invaded your senses. He smells expensive, like nice leather and fire wood during the winter. It's very manly, you note. His shadow hovers over yours as he traps you between him and the counter with a playful smirk on his face. How smug could he get. He leans down, bringing your chin up between his thumb and finger. You hadn't realized how close he was until now. Since when did you get so nervous around him? Why did it make you nervous when he kissed you all of a sudden? It's unfair that he holds the advantage. Heat rises to your cheeks and the tips of your ears and you're positive he can hear the beating of your heart, which was currently trying to break out of your chest.

His lips take you to paradise, as always. Their soft against your own, yet firm. They're slightly chapped and they taste like spearmint. It makes your head fuzzy because they feel so right, even when you wish they felt wrong. You want to pull away and kick him out, and end thjs whole arrangement, but you're already very familiar with the fact it's just beginning.

———

The bed is warm. So warm, in fact, it feels like your suffocating. The sheets tangle around your limbs, strangling you as you tangle your limbs around kuroos. You almost want to cry, and if you were anywhere else— with anyone else —you probably would have. The heat is unbearable and the one sided tension makes your stomach churn and your throat tighten up. You were almost positve an anxiety attack was coming on.

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you close your eyes as kuroo's nimble fingers soothe circles into your shoulder blade idly and yet somehow he manages to dodge the purple and red splotches blooming on the flesh. Suddenly you wish you didn't feel so safe and protected in his embrace. The moment almost tempts you to whisper sweet nothings into his ear, but you don't deserve to be the person who does that because you aren't his person. Best friend, maybe (next to Kenma, if anything) but, you aren't his person no matter how you long to be. You're just a friend in his bed having a good time. It isn't as fun anymore.

You swallow a lump in your throat, flattening your hand against his broad chest and willing yourself to lift up out of his grasp, his fingers falling smoothly to stop between your shoulder blades. Looking down at him, he presents you with the soft, goofy look on his face that he always adorns. God, there's nothing you wouldn't give to wake up beside him every morning and kiss that lopsided grin off his face. It hurts to think about, and another wave of tears try to force their way past your lash line. You blink them away and put on a soft, one-sided smile for the man below you, giving him a quick peck where his jaw and neck meet before shrugging his hands off and climbing out of bed.

His eyes track you, lazily hooded and watching, as you take the sheet with you to cover yourself, grabbing your shorts and whatever top you were wearing but a few hours ago before everything was strewn about. You shy away from his gaze, but it's nothing he hasn't seen before. He shifts in the bed to face your back, elbow propped up to lay his head in his hand. With an uncharacteristically soft tone, you almosf don't head him when he speaks. The words that come from him are like honey, yet raw. It's enough to make anyones knees buckle and crawl back into bed.

"Are you okay?"

There's a slight hint of concern there, just hardlg scrapping the surface of the question. You nod with a hum, throwing on the loose shirt before facing him. Kuroo's brow raises like he doesn't quite believe you, but he doesn't take the question further and instead turns to get out of bed. You gnaw at your lip, taking your turn to watch him stretch out. His back has red streaks messily placed down it from his shoulders to the base, his biceps matching. His hair is messy and not like the normal bed head he sports, parts of it are spiked up from fingers constantly pushing through it, while other parts are laid flat from sweat. You can't help the thought that he's sculpted by the gods. They definitely took their time on him. Scoffing at yourself and shaking the thoughts free from your head, you head to the bathroom. As if the bed wasn't suffocating enough, just being the same room was found to be worse when he looks like that. At this point, it was preferred he stayed under the covers.

You feel stupid while looking in the mirror. Your mascara from earlier had smudged beneath your waterline, clumping together in the corner. Your nose curls at the sight, hands splashing cool water at your face, rubbing at your eyes. With a sigh you lean your elbows on the sink, pushing back hair and looking down at the water going into the drain.

This is ridiculous.

How on earth could you do this to yourself and to kuroo?

There's a knock on the bathroom door, it's light and gentle in the typical kuroo fashion because he doesn't want to spook you. You purse your lips, digging the palms of your hands into your eyes and heaving a sigh. As soon as you open the door and switch places, you're up and out of his apartment without saying goodbye.

The cool air of outside hits your face and you hadn't noticed the tears until the damp chill shook you. Brushing them away, you head home. You didn't want to be around him and you certainly didn't want to think about him. On the way back, you finally decided you weren't going to tell him anything. What would dumb tetsuro know about it anyway.

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mcrmadness · 4 years

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I was so tired I took a nap and woke up around 1am. Not it’s nearly 4am and I’m getting tired and should start to go back to bed soon BUT my brain is also now starting to hyperfixate/hyperfocus over Planet Zoo!

I played it a little today but it’s always so hard for me to maintain my focus with that game for some reason. I really love these zoo management games, I still have my old copies of Zoo Tycoon and Zoo Tycoon 2 and I was so HYPED when Planet Zoo was announced and bought and played it right away! But I just, for some reason, cannot hyperfocus on that game for too long times and it’s weird because I love the game? I guess it’s the challenges/career scenarios doing this. I no longer can play any kind of free game because building with unlimited money and without any outsider challenger is just not fun anymore, it’s not challenging enough anymore. So I always play these other type of game modes instead - in ZT they were called scenarios, in ZT2 there were challenges and campaigns; in PZ there’s career mode and scenarios etc.

So far I have only played the career mode and trying to progress in those but maybe should try out the challenges instead. I love the game but I hate it when my zoos run out of money and I don’t know what to do about it. I have never found a good way to solve the money problem in tycoon type video games - in Zoo Tycoon I did eventually have this realization and all I had to do was to delete booths and other things that no one really used aka I had no income but still had to pay for them, and getting rid of those and saving only the ones with income was the secret. But I haven’t found a proper way to arrange these in PZ. I guess it’s the zoo management list as it always refreshes itself when you close it and it always is extra work for my brain to find where was I because I forget everything when I don’t see it and I wish I could somehow have that stay where I was left off in the list if I have to jump between different windows. So it’s really difficult to go through the zoo finances and try and see what is the core problem when things are not in order enough, or don’t stay so that my brain could follow them neatily and make some sense of things because of my adhd.

But yeah the point was that my brain now wants to play Planet Zoo sooooooooo bad but it’s nearly 4am and I rather not open it or I can’t sleep in the next 5 hours or so...

#mcrmadness' random stuff #planet zoo #adhd #video games

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elliot-orion · 4 years

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Sparks Fly Drabble - Hyperfocus

“Hey, Sparky. We are home.” Hall snatches my laptop off my lap. Rude. I was busy!

“Gimme it back!” I whine, reaching up for it, even though I know it will be useless because Hall is very tall, and I am very not, and also I’m sitting on the couch. Which doesn’t help matters. “I’m busy!”

“We got home a half hour ago, and you didn’t even notice.”

“I was busy! Give me it back!”

“Sparky, when was the last time you slept?” Scout sits down next to me, giving me a very stern look. I’m being ganged up on. They’re ganging up on me!

“I’m working.” I pout. I don’t even care if I look like a child, with my arms all crossed and everything, because they deserve to have a pouty child on their hands if this is the shit they are going to pull. They’ve been gone for nearly a week, and this is the coming home reunion I get? Unbelievable.

Or maybe they are just mad because I didn’t notice they came home. What did Hall say it’s been? Half hour or something? Yea, that probably pissed them off a bit. I normally have dinner and like, eight deserts ready when they come home, but the kitchen is currently desert and dinner-less. To reiterate, I’ve been busy.

“When did you last sleep? Or eat?” Hall repeats Scout’s question. Or I think he did. Things are kind of foggy right now?

When did I last sleep or eat? Excellent question now that I think about it. Thinking is very hard, and I am very dizzy, so it’s either been a while, or just like, six hours with my metabolism. I genuinely can’t remember. I got an idea for a new app and I’ve just been working on it since. Hyperfocus really is a bitch like that, huh?

“Um…”

“Get the protein bars,” Scout signs, giving Hall an exasperated look. At least, I think it’s exasperated and not just annoyed. Kind of hard to tell right now. Thinking is hard. This might be why my last twenty lines of code have been absolute jibberish. And why the app wouldn’t launch. I wish my rubber duck could tell me to eat rather than just give me the beady eyed stare of judgement when I realize the only thing missing from the code is a single end bracket.

“What was it this time?” Scout turns to me then, raising an eyebrow.

“App. It was supposed to… supposed to… is it bad I can’t actually remember what it was supposed to do?” I frown. That might also have been affecting my coding abilities. Eh, I’ll figure it out when I check it. Hall better have saved that shit when he took my laptop from me. I have a bad habit of not saving for hours. Probably because I don’t realize hours have passed. Maybe the next thing I figure out how to do is a better autosave.

“Yes.” Hall shoves a few of the calorie loaded bars for Supers like me, with our physically-impossible-to-maintain metabolisms. Helpful little buggers and all, but...

“These taste like shit.” I scowl. I eat them anyways. Otherwise Scout gets really upset with me, and I don’t like it when Scout’s upset with me. He cries when he gets frustrated. I don’t like seeing him cry.

“Feel a bit better?” Scout asks once I’ve finished shoving one of the bars down my throat. The quicker you eat them the less shit-like they taste. Seriously, with the number of these things they sell, they really need to invest in like, a flavor that isn’t crumbly cardboard dipped in a chemical bath.

Or maybe just a bed. I’d like a bed now. Apparently, food was needed, but sleep is also needed. I’m not really surprised. It’s probably been a day or two of sitting here. Keeping track is so very difficult.

“Mmhm.” I hum. “Tired now. Cuddles?”

“Sure, Sparky.” Hall laughs. It’s a nice laugh.

“You have a nice laugh…” I snuggle into Hall’s chest, reaching out until I grab some part of Scout and can pull him onto me, so that all three of us are piled on the couch. It is very nice.

“Go to sleep. We’ll order dinner and wake you up later.” Hall whispers. I feel someone kiss the back of my neck.

“Wait, I just figured out the problem with it!” I gasp, half jerking out of Hall’s arms to frantically look around for my computer... which is all the way over in the kitchen. Hall you ass!

“Go. To. Sleep.” Scout and Hall wrestle me back down.

I go to sleep. But if i forget the solution to that one pesky part of the coding that refused to work, I’m blaming their asses. I’ll make cinnamon rolls without frosting, see how Hall and his fucking sweet tooth like that. Hmph.

At least they are home now.

I had no idea how to end this... ugh, sorry it’s not the best but whatever.... Also, i’m adhd im allowed to hate on the curse that hyperfocusing can be, because it so is and if you’d like to argue then let me just mention i once spent an entire day writing, from 7am to 9pm, without ever drinking water, eating, or using the restroom, and the only thing that stopped me from continuing was because i couldn’t read the computer screen anymore. When i stood up i nearly blacked out, so just TRY me bitch, this is all personal experience.

anyways tag list; @albatris @shadow-maker @merigreenleaf @ageekyreader @norawritess @samplewriting @scmalarky @piscesintherain @ashesconstellation

#original writing #sparks fly #launch party #book launch #book party #amwrting #amwriting #writelr #writeblr #writing #young writers #writers of tumblr

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captainillogical · 5 years

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Devil’s Ballroom Ch.8

A year after the events from the earth’s final attack, Little Homeworld is finally complete, and there’s a new jazz bar where gems and humans mingle and drink. - As you’re typing back a reply, someone pulls the stool out next to you and takes a seat. You see a sliver of pink out of the corner of your eye as you try not to actually Look. Oh god. It’s her. God can’t help us now.

Spinel/Reader

collab with my lovely wife @firstofficertightpants

(i’m sorry. i have terrible chapter pacing skills so the next one will be the last, not this one. thanks for all of ur patience p: )

Immediately you accidentally elbow Alex in the face as you try to get out of his grip, and he yells out in pain and drops you onto the ground.

"Wait! SPINEL!" You shout and run towards the direction she went, but you don’t see her anywhere. "SPINEL!!!" You shout again, eyes frantically roaming in every direction around for her, a couple of people stop to stare at you. She’s much faster than you, and could be leagues away by now.

You can't believe she would just run like that, without explanation. She was staring at you and Alex like.. did she seriously think that you and Alex.. oh god. She thought you were with Alex.

Okay. You try not to panic as you stand there, awkwardly. You feel a hand on your shoulder.

"What the hell was that?" Alex says beside you. You can't speak for a moment, and when you do, your voice comes out hoarse.

"Er.. I think some horrible misunderstanding just happened." You say, defeated. You look up at him, and you're trying to not be visibly upset. He looks down at you, and makes a face.

"That was her? She could've said hi, sheesh.. she even left cookies here." He shrugs, looking at the spilled cookies on the ground.

"Dude. How are you so fucking stupid." You say, nearly about to smack him again. He gives you a confused look. "Are you shitting me? She came to give me those cookies in thanks for yesterday, and what does she see? You kissing all over my face."

He still gives you a blank look.

"Ohhhh my god. You are such a fucking moron." You retort, staring at him for several solid seconds until a look of sudden realization hits his facial expressions.

“Oh. OHHHHHHHHHHHH.” He covers his mouth, and has the audacity to look mortified.

“Yeah.” You cross your arms. “Thanks for that.”

“I uh.. man, I just wanted some Y/N love, I’m sorry. I just got so carried away.”

“I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m like, romantically involved with you.. Oh god what if she thinks I like men?” You cover your face in your hands, groaning into them. “I never told her that I liked just girls..”

“You told her about your crush on Harper though? What about that?” He raises his eyebrows in question.

“Yeah but I never told her about any of the other shit, and I haven’t exactly like.. given her any signals..”

“But you flirt with her all the time! And she flirts back! I know, because you’ve told me everything, multiple times.” He bends down and scoops up the container, and picks up the cookies and places them all back inside.

“Alex, I really hate to break this to you, but girls flirt with each other all the time. Most of the time, it’s over compliments, and sometimes it SEEMS genuine, but really, they’re just being nice.” You say. “Unless you’re super bold, with girls you basically have to be frank with them about your feelings and intentions for them to realize you’re serious. I myself prefer to kinda be sure that the other person likes me back, before I stick my neck out, you know? Because getting the ‘Oh, I thought we were just friends’ shit fucking hurts.”

“I’m pretty sure she likes you, dude.” He says to you like you’re an idiot.

“I’m not so sure about that.” You say, because you refuse to believe anything unless the cold hard facts are slapping you in the face.

“For someone so smart, how are you so stupid?” He sniffs one of the cookies, and looks like he’s contemplating taking a bite. You scoff. “You know what? Don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter. My point is, even I can tell she likes you.”

"Coming from you, that means nothing to me." He immediately looks up, completely offended. “What? I mean, seriously. Do I have to remind you of all of our middle school and high school years? That should explain itself.”

“Okay when you put it that way, YEAH, I was stupid, but this is different. This is me absorbing someone ELSE’S love life, and even I’m not that much of a fool.” He sighs, and mournfully tosses the cookies into the bin closest to you. “I think you need to like, give her a call or something and explain yourself. She looked really upset.”

“Yeah, I..” You pause for a second to pick your screwdriver back up. You don’t even want to work anymore. “You’re right. I’m just nervous.”

“Just do it before you overthink it.” He replies.

“Ugh, okay.” You pull out your phone, swipe over to your contacts, and press the call button on Spinel’s name. Immediately, it goes to voicemail.

Of course.

You leave a voicemail for her to call you back as soon as she hears this, and you also shoot her a text.

“She’s not answering.” You say.

“Of course she’s not, I mean, I wouldn’t either. Give her a while and try again later, she probably just needs some time.” He says, and also pulls out his phone, typing something on it real quick. “Also, give me a minute, mom needs to call me about something for tomorrow.” He steps a couple feet away from you to take the call.

You stare at your phone, and for the first time in a long time, you really don’t know what to fucking do other than just stand there. What if she’s so upset, she never talks to you again? Will she give you a chance to hear you out? And are you ready to talk about your feelings with her?

Lord.

You haven’t really thought about them too much yourself, if you’re going to be honest. You’ve been keeping this all super casual in your mind, because it feels irrational to grow feelings for someone this quickly, considering you’ve known her for less than 2 weeks. But.. you admit, the more you push the thoughts away, the more you understand that you might like her a lot more than you originally considered, and denying them will just cause you issues like that one time when you were 19.

You sigh out loud. Off to the side you can hear Alex arguing with his mother about some errands she wants him to run tomorrow, and for a brief moment you consider just going home, but then remember that not even Mr. Smiley can cover the rest of the shift. You have a good two hours left, you can survive, hopefully. You make yourself busy with fixing the part you were previously working on - but you’re having a hard time concentrating. After a couple minutes, Alex taps on the side of the wall, and you peek your head out to look at him.

“Look, I hate to do this to you right now, but mom wants me to go grab a few things from her office, and pick up an order from the print place before it closes.” He pushes his curly dark hair out of his eyes, half leaning on the wall next to you. “I can probably be back by the time you’re done with your shift.”

“Hmm.. alright.” You mumble, trying to keep your mind on more positive things. He leans closer to you, stretches out his arm, and pokes you on the cheek.

“Don’t hyperfocus on this. Shit will be fine, you just gotta give her some time to get back to you, okay hun?” He gives your cheek a little love smack and stands straight, heading out already. You watch him go.

“Super easy for you to say..” You say to yourself, and busy your hands.

Most of the rest of the shift passes quietly, and you receive no messages from anyone. You hate that you can’t do anything, not really, so you send Spinel another text. She still hasn’t seen the other one, and it’s been nearly two hours.

Y/N: Can we talk? Please.

You aren’t in the mood to text anyone else, so you put your phone back into your pocket, and start all of your closing duties. The next twenty minutes goes by in a heartbeat, the crowds of tourists long since dissipated. There isn’t a lot to do. Once you clock out and grab your things from the breakroom, you feel your phone vibrate so you pull it out quickly to see who it is. You try and fail not to feel disappointed that it’s just Alex.

Alex: she wrapped me up in some other shit so like, im runnin hella late

Alex: im sorry

Alex: its gonna be a while, ill let you know when im done and ill just come over to ur place

Alex: if thats ok

You type out a couple replies to him, and sigh out loud. It’s for the best really. You don’t exactly want him to talk to you about all this stuff right now anyway. You head out, lock up the place, and walk in the general direction of your home.

By the time you’re home and settled, Alex has given you an update, and it’s been nearly four hours since you saw Spinel with no response. You’re seriously starting to worry, because she’s never not replied to your messages like this. You go to send her another text, and realize that she still hasn’t opened any of your messages. You send her another inquiry, and pop up your chat with Steven.

Y/N: Steven.

Y/N: I need you to answer asap.

You see that he’s online, and you wait for an answer. It only takes him a minute or two to get back to you.

Steven: Hey Y/N, what’s up?

Y/N: Have you talked to Spinel in the last couple of hours?

Steven: Not since this morning, why?

Y/N: Can you call her just to check up on her? I’m worried about something.

Steven: Yeah hold on.

You wait for several long minutes for him to get back to you.

Steven: Her phone’s just going to voicemail, which is pretty weird. Maybe she accidentally let it die? I’ll let you know when she answers back.

Steven: Are you guys okay?

Y/N: Uhh, I’ll get back to you on that.

Steven: Hmm, okay.

You go to lay on your couch face down, and scream into the cushions.

Apparently you fall asleep that way, because the next thing you know, you have to peel your drool covered face off the couch cushion. You blink away your sleep-heavy eyes, and blearily check your phone. It’s 5am.

The only message you’ve received is one from Alex saying he stopped by, but left since he saw you were sleeping. Okay wow, he could’ve woken you up into a better sleeping position. Your neck feels like shit.

You’re trying to ignore the growing feeling of dread in your stomach, pointedly not thinking about how Spinel hasn’t texted you back yet, and how long it’s been. You grab a glass of water from the fridge, trudge up the stairs into your bedroom, and flop on your bed. You pass out again nearly instantly.

When you wake up again, the sun is glaring into your window, and you groan. You roll over and pull the covers over your head. Fuck the sun today. You grab your phone from your nightstand, and notice it’s almost 1pm, the fuck? Why the fuck did you sleep so long? You look at all your notifications, and pretend that you’re not looking for a specific one from someone.

Spinel still hasn’t texted you back, and STILL hasn’t seen any of the messages you’ve sent her. You are starting to panic a little, so you shoot Steven a message.

Y/N: She hasn’t said anything to me at all, has she answered you?

You message your dad and friends back while waiting a few minutes for Steven to reply. It takes him a few minutes to get back to you while you're laying in bed.

Steven: Her phone is still off, and she hasn't replied to anything I've sent her. I'm gonna ask Lapis to check up on her since they live in the same building. I'll get back to you when I get an answer.

It's been like twenty hours since you've seen her, and you're worried. There's no point moping around though, so you get up and get dressed for the day. You make and eat breakfast, even if you don't normally. You need a distraction from your thoughts, so you give your dad a call to check up on him, and ask him when he's coming home this week. He talks to you about his long days in meetings after meetings, the silly shit he got up to with a coworker last night after drinking, and the new hobby he's thinking of picking up when he gets back home. You guys talk for a long while, and maybe it's something you really needed, because you momentarily forget about what you were so worried with in the first place, until your phone buzzes. It's ringing actually, and your phone screen lights up with Steven's name. You tell your dad you've got to go to take this other call, and answer Steven. You sit there, phone in hand for a moment, before putting it to your ear.

"Y/N?" You hear him ask, although a bit muffled.

"Yeah. Anything?" You reply, trying to keep the nervousness out of your voice.

"She's uh.. She's on homeworld with the Diamonds right now? Maybe they worked something out with whatever event they were planning." He says into the receiver, completely casual like this is no big deal. Like that answer didn't just shatter your morale.

"Hm, okay. I appreciate you telling me this." You want to hang up and cry.

"Why didn't Spinel tell you she was going? I mean, she doesn't need to let me know since I go back to homeworld frequently.. are you guys okay?"

"Uhhhhhhhhhh." You say, unable to form an answer that isn't too revealing. "I'm not sure. But I'll let you know if anything changes."

"You know you can talk to me, right?" He says, gently. You appreciate that he cares, but it's best if he doesn't interfere.

"I know. Thank you, Steven." You reply, holding back any emotion that will give you away.

"I'll talk to you soon, okay? See you, Y/N." You say goodbye as well, and hang up.

You sit at your dining table for several solid minutes without moving, staring blankly at your phone, mind swirling with thoughts.

Okay. Alright. You can do this.

You refuse to cry, and you pinch your arm to get the prickling feeling away from the edges of your eyes. Fuck. Okay.

So she just.. left. She left, when she was fighting with the Diamonds literally yesterday about something awful they said to her, so awful that she had an emotional breakdown over it, and couldn't even TALK about it with you afterwards.

She left for homeworld to escape you.

You, specifically.

Because of a misunderstanding.

You probably sit there for a good twenty minutes absorbing everything, weighing the gravity of the situation. Afterwards, you get up and distract yourself with chores. You refuse to put any more thought into this, and just figure you'll wait.

At around 6pm, Alex comes over, and the two of you play Minecraft for the rest of the night, and he pointedly doesn't ask about Spinel at all. You're thankful that he's here in person, for once, because you don't know what kind of stupid shit you'd do without him here.

He spends the night and crashes on your couch, and you lay awake for most of the night, restless.

When you wake up, Alex has coffee and oatmeal ready for you, which is pretty funny because he never makes food. He's usually awful at it. He's sitting at the table sipping his coffee and drawing in his sketchbook, and he looks up when you make your presence known.

"Wow, you kinda look like shit my guy." He says, taking another sip of his coffee, and setting the mug down.

"Thanks. Had insomnia pretty bad last night.." You trail off and move to grab a mug from the cabinet and pour yourself some coffee. It's a black coffee only kind of day.

You sit down on the opposite side from him, and slowly drink your coffee. It smells good. You're worried Spinel hates you and never wants to see you again. You pull the bowl of oatmeal towards you and take a bite of lukewarm mush.

"This is kind of awful but thanks." You say as you shovel more into your mouth, and consider adding more brown sugar to this.

"I ain't no Gordon Ramsay, but I try." He doesn't look at you as he shades the back leg of the deer he's sketching. You watch him bite his tongue in concentration, and you take another sip of coffee. It's kind of burnt tasting, but whatever. You've had worse. "What do you want to do today, anyway?"

"Mmm." You eat another bite of oatmeal. "Can you please pick? Cuz I'm kinda braindead right now and I don't really feel like concentrating." He looks at you with mild concern.

"Last time I got to pick, you banned me from picking out what we do for a solid year." He furrows his eyebrows, twisting his pencil in hand.

"Yeah, well.. I don't really care right now." You shovel more food into your mouth.

"Fine. You said so, okayyyy, so no complaining later." He rolls his eyes and huffs, pencil scratching against the paper. Your phone buzzes several times on the table, and you reluctantly grab it. One message from dad, and.. two from Steven. You open up Steven’s messages first.

Steven: What did you do?

Steven: She doesn't want to come home.

Your stomach feels like lead. Alex notices you immediately.

"Uh. What's wrong?" He asks, leaning over. You tilt your phone away from him and you can feel the tears coming. You swallow, trying to get your face to cooperate.

“Um..” You feel your voice wavering, so you take a steadying breath. Looking down at your phone again, you struggle to form any kind of coherent words at all. You push your phone over to Alex, he reads what's on your screen, and looks back over to you with a serious face.

“For real? Are you kidding me?” He says, and you can hear the frustration in his voice. “I’m gonna give her a piece of my mind.”

“No,” The words finally find you. “Let me deal with this, please.” You give him a half hearted smile, and pull your phone back to yourself. With shaky hands, you text Steven back.

Y/N: Listen, I didn’t do anything, but..

Y/N: I’d prefer to get this sorted with her in person.

Y/N: I don’t want to play the messenger game

Y/N: I want her to hear it from me.

You don’t have to wait too long for his reply.

Steven: Okay well, I don’t know how well that’s going to work

Steven: Considering she refuses to talk to me about any of it

Steven: Let me know if you end up wanting me to do anything?

Steven: And I’ll message you if anything happens on my end.

Y/N: I appreciate that. Thanks.

You sigh and look up at Alex, who’s watching you with his chin in hand, leaning on the table.

“Anything?” He inquires.

“Nothing.” You say.

“Well, let me clean up the mess I made and let's go out. Mom let me have the car today, so we can go wherever. You said I can choose and no take-backsies, just give me a few minutes, alright?” He stands up and takes the both of your plates to the kitchen, and you watch him for a moment before deciding to get up and get dressed.

You head up to your bedroom and open your closet, rummaging around for something cozy. You grab a soft long sleeve shirt, and sweatpants, because who gives a fuck honestly. You’re looking inbetween all your sweaters for your favorite one that you’d like to wear today, before realizing that Spinel still has it. Instantly, your eyes fill with tears at the reminder, and you let yourself cry quietly in frustration where no one can see you.

After a few minutes, you wash your face in the bathroom and get dressed, settling for a different sweater. You take a couple deep breaths, and head downstairs to Alex.

You spend the rest of the day with Alex, and he takes the both of you to Empire City to browse the mall and window shop, and he buys the both of you dinner. You feel like he’s being extra sweet to make you feel better and you appreciate him so much for it, but Spinel’s on your mind literally all day and you can’t distract yourself enough. He gives you a big hug after dropping you off at home, and before leaving he makes sure that you’re okay. You’re not, not really, but he helped you not spiral further downwards today.

The next day you only work a half shift, so you get to sleep in and you take full advantage of it. It has now been three days since Spinel disappeared with no word since, and you’re beside yourself with worry. But you can’t let this stop you living your day to day life, so you do what you do best and keep on with your routine.

The fourth day goes quickly as you work a full shift, and you’ve got quite a few things to do before your dad gets home tomorrow. You’re excited to see him, as he’s been gone for nearly three weeks now. The house will be back to normal, and way less lonely.

Your dad comes home the fifth day and you spend the entirety of it with him, and you don’t think about Spinel at all. The both of you go to the movies, and then to the beach to have a relaxing afternoon as family bonding time. When you guys head home, you make him his favorite steak and potatoes and he talks about all of the things he had to do and how much he missed your company while he was gone. You think he notices that your mood has slightly been off today, but he doesn't ask about it.

The sixth day, Steven sends you a text about her still not being home, and you wonder why you even bothered opening the message. At this point you’re no longer despondent, you’re now just frustrated with the growing feeling of anger building inside you.

By the tenth day, you’re rightfully pissed. You gave her more than enough time to get over whatever feelings she felt - and she’s not taking any of your feelings into consideration. She left you to deal with the aftermath of what she assumed to be true, and never even gave you the chance to explain yourself. You haven’t sent her a text since that last one you sent over a week ago, and you think you’ll send her one more.

Y/N: Whenever (or IF, I guess) you decide to pop back in on earth, I’d like to have a chat. :)

Steven hasn’t said anything much in the last week, either. You kind of feel like he’s avoiding you because of this, but it doesn’t matter now. If she never wants to come back, that’s on her.

Two more days go by - pretty uneventfully. You spend most of your time at work, or playing minecraft with Alex and the occasional Harper when she’s actually in a motel versus camping. The two of them haven’t asked about Spinel at all - and you know they’ve talked about it extensively in private. You’re secretly relieved that you don’t have to talk about her, though.

Two weeks pass, and you give up entirely. Life goes on.

One of these late afternoons you’re lying in bed after work and texting your friends, and for a moment you think about shooting Spinel a last message. You don’t think she’ll come back to earth at this point, but you want your sweater back if she ever visits. You swipe over to your chat with her to let her know this, and your eyes glance at the ‘seen’ icon at the bottom, timestamp dated nearly 36 hours ago.

Huh.

Wait. What the fuck.

You sit there for a moment, frozen in shock. Shock that quickly turns into boiling anger, and you find yourself texting Steven faster than you realize.

Y/N: So she comes back and you say nothing, yeah?

Y/N: Remind me to not do you any favors for a while.

Eyes stinging, you go back over to shoot Spinel an angry message, but before you can even type out half a sentence, Steven rapidly texts you back.

Steven: Hold on for a second, okay?

Steven: Let me explain something.

You don’t really care at this point.

Y/N: nah man.

You get up from bed, pocket your phone, and waltz downstairs. You put on a sweater, toe on the nearest flip flops, and head out the front door. Dad’s at work currently, so you lock the door and head over to little homeworld. You walk briskly over to the bar you met Spinel at, and after a small hold up with the bouncer, head in and move directly to the counter, facing Bismuth.

“Hey Bis,” You say to her, and she glances over to you from her current patron, and smiles at you.

“Y/N! It’s been a minute. How’ve you been?” She replies, facing you.

“I’ve been alright,” You lean a bit over the bar. “I actually just have a question, if you don’t mind.” Bismuth looks at you inquisitively, and you continue. “What’s Spinel’s address? She never gave it to me.” You smile sweetly at her.

“Hold on, let me get a pen and some paper.” She says as she sets down her glass, and grabs a pen and some receipt paper from the register. You watch her scribble something down, and she hands it to you.

“Bis, I ever tell you that you’re the best?” You take the piece of paper from her hand.

“Only once,” She grins. “But I could stand to hear it again.” You laugh at that, and pocket the note.

“Thanks for this. I’ll pay you back later, promise.” You wink at her, and turn to leave. You hear her chuckle and pick the glass back up from the counter.

“I’ll keep you to that!” You hear as you leave the building, pulling out the note again to glance at the address.

It’s over a mile away, and you figure now or never, and walk towards the general direction of her place. You try and fail on calming your nerves on the near 30 minute walk, and by the time you get to her apartment building, you’ve worked yourself up into a whirlwind of emotions. Also you’ve pointedly ignored your phone this entire time, and you’re pretty sure you’ve missed 5 calls and dozens of texts, but you knew that if you looked at any of it, you’d lose face and chicken out.

Spinel’s apartment is on the 9th floor, and you marvel at the technology side of the building for a bit. These gems really knew how to build stuff. You take the elevator up, and once you’re on the floor, you take a sharp left to the odd numbers side of the building. You reach her door and stop, almost touching the frame to knock on it. Although it’s pretty quiet in the building, you can hear a faint voice, or voices, coming from inside her apartment if you listen closely enough.

You take a deep breath, and let it out. You take another three, and consider leaving altogether. You steel your nerves, lift your arm, and knock on her door frame twice.

You think you hear the voice quiet down as you stand there, waiting. Several seconds go by, and you can hear your own heartbeats.

For a sec you think that she won’t come to the door, but after a few more moments you hear quiet movement towards the door you’re standing in front of. You make a point to step to the side, so whoever is answering the door can’t see who’s standing there through the peephole.

Very slowly, you see the door handle turn, and the door swinging open several inches. You watch Spinel peek her head out the door, her phone in her hand, and turn to make direct eye contact with you. She freezes instantaneously, like she expected it to be anyone else other than you standing there.

Her hair is in a messy bun, and your eyes trail down to notice that she’s wearing your sweater.

This pisses you off immediately.

#spinel #spinel x reader #spinel su #spinel self insert #steven universe #my fic #devils ballroom

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i-am-amy-amy-is-me · 5 years

Note

Ok so I read your last fic and now i'm kind of head over heals for your writing style and had a question (that I guess it similar to another request I dunno you can ignore it if you want.) and a request. do you have any headcannons for the DA and Damien like friendship or relationship or whatever. Second could I possibly request a song fic with one of the markiplier egos and either of these songs (sunkissed by khai dreams, The highway man by loreena Mckennit) Sorry the songs aren't well known.

-holy shit I get asks now-

I apologise for not answering earlier, I’ve been procrastinating busy lately. Thank you for the compliment, it means a lot! I hope you enjoy this. First will come the headcanons, then the fic (with Bing, I decided) under the read more.

DA + Damien headcannons

- DA and Damien are super close. Like, SUPER close. Not romantically involved, just really close friends

- Genuinely can’t remember a time in their life when they didn’t have each other

- Total workaholics

- But can and will throw the party of the century

- Damien is shy, but the second you become good friends (or get him drunk), he practically turns into a puppy

- He’s super excitable. Like, extremely excitable.

- DA is a genius at poker. Will get you to gamble your clothes off your back.

- Might give them back at the end of the night. Probably not though.

-DA is super scatterbrained and goes into hyperfocus a lot, still manages to be one of the greatest attorneys of the region.

- Super cuddly, those two

- Damien says mayhaps a lot

- They enjoy gossiping? Like, you’d never expect it, but after a long day, they’ll just VENT about the idiotic people the two of them met at their job.

- Damien has fallen asleep at his desk, staying up late, trying to do “just a few more papers”.

- DA hates when that happens

- If given the opportunity, would live together or room in the other’s appartment.

- Don’t mind sharing a bed, because again, cuddly bitches.

- Both love their jobs, but also find it extremely tiring.

- To relax, DA takes a bubble bath, Damien reads a bad romcom with fruity red wine.

- DA hates winter, but loves the aesthetic

- Both somehow manage to be organized? Maybe not in the typical way, but you ask them for something in their office and they’ll find it under thirty seconds, even though you can’t see the floor anymore??

“Welcome to Markiplier Manor. We are honored to be able to employ you as a counseling aid.”

“Emotional support human.”

“Wilford, they’re not-”

“Emotional support human.”

The man you had come to know as ‘Dark’ sighed, knowing this was an argument he wouldn’t be able to win. “Anyways, your basic responsibilities will be…”

That seemed like so long ago.

Well, it was.

Taking care of the relationships between the egos, trying to keep harmony in a place that only spoke chaos, was a full time job, and it was treated as such.

Good paycheque, living quarters inside the mansion (in case something happened, which was pretty often), and paid water, heating, groceries, etc. This could be considered a pretty good deal. Just to take care of a few overgrown man-babies? Sure!

“Diva what are yo- DIVA” you ran to the hellhound, snatching whatever she held in her mouth. “Is that.. WILFORD!”

“Whaaaaat?” he whined, taken out of the Agatha Christie novel he was reading.

“Diva can’t eat chocolate! You know this!”

“Sorry”

Third time an incident like this had happened this week.

As I said, pretty good deal.

You pat Diva on the head, ignoring the puppy eyes she gave you, trying to get the chocolate back. She walked away when she realized you wouldn’t be giving it back, jumping out the door to go chase some poor forest critter.

You sighed, dropping the drool-covered bar in the garbage, heading to the Googles’ room. Your socked feet thumped lightly on the dark hardwood floor, an even rhythm in the mayhem this house held.

You sent smiles to all the people you passed, gladly waving as some of them smiled back.

Suddenly you hear a soft music, a cute joyful melody coming out of one of the nearer rooms. Bing’s, possibly?

So slowly a sunlit dream pulls me out of sleep /Feel the morning through the blinds /I get to thinking ‘bout your sunkissed face /And a quiet place where I could give you all my time /

You thought it was the original, but as you walked closer, it became clear Bing was actually the one singing.

You know I wanna be your rock, my love /You know I wanna be your light /In darkness how you find me just in time /To tell me what I needed to hear /

His happy tone brought an elated grin to your face, his happy self always a pleasure to see amid the murderous bunch.

So if you don’t know what you need /You can leave it all to me /Don’t want you worried bout a thing /I know you’d do the same for me /

You quietly walk into the room, the slightly ajar door letting you know he was open to visitors.

Cuz’ you’re so lovely /You’re so lovely I can’t help but fall for you, love /When you love me It’s so lovely loving you /So lovely loving you /

Sitting over the soft mattress, he stops abruptly, scared by your sudden appearance. “Keep going.” you whispered, barely loud enough for his sensors to pick up, but nonetheless he started up again, his face beaming at the captivated look on your face.

So softly a tender breeze brush against my knees on a summer afternoon /I get to thinking bout’ the hazy days under august shade that i used to spend with you /I didn’t realize it was all I wanted, what I had /My riddled heart I had to cradle back together just to see /It’s all like magic to me /You do magic baby /

He fell backwards into his unmade bed, grasping your arm and making you fall with him. Your quiet hiccups of laughter dissipating through the rays of sun that shone in the window.

When you love me /You’re so lovely /I can’t help but fall for you, love /When you love me /It’s so lovely loving you /So lovely loving you /

His speakers lowering their volume, becoming merely some background noise. He wrapped his arms around you as the controllable blinds closed, and the lights shut down.

So slowly a sunlit dream pulls me out of sleep /Feel the morning through the blinds /I turn my head to meet your sunkissed face /In this quite place /I can give you all my time /

“Take a nap with me?”

You laughed. “Sure.”

“Have a good nap.”

“You too, Bee”

#markiplier #markiplier egos #bingiplier #bing irl #fanfic #short #writing #song fic #adwm #adwm y/n #a date with markiplier #DA #district attorney #damien #mayor damien #headcanon

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what-the-buckybarnes · 6 years

Text

Mellow Yellow

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Fic Summary: You had were yellow, always had been. Until the fateful day when you were red.

Warning: getting shot, blood, pain, angst

A/N: Happy New Year! Gelukkig Nieuwjaar! The first post of 2019. It was about time I finished this. It’s been half finished since like September. ;-;

MASTERLIST

For as long as Bucky could remember, you had been yellow. You weren’t physically yellow, obviously. You just radiated the feeling of being yellow. Every time Bucky was around you, he felt yellow. He felt everything yellow inside him. He could feel the yellow converse you wore, and the yellow hairband that kept your hair in the ponytail. He could feel the yellow sunflowers you kept in your window and adored. He could feel the yellow sun, that you liked to bask in whenever you were free. His favourite yellow was the little buttercup you kept tucked just behind your ear, hidden by your curls. He was the only one who ever seemed to notice it. Yellow just surrounded you, and you felt no shame in it.

You were in a meeting with him, getting briefed on a mission you would be going on. You were fiddling with a yellow string you kept around your wrist. Bucky had put it there. It was a small thing, but he liked giving you very mundane things, and you seemed to enjoy them. You always returned the favour, giving him a particularly shiny coin, or a tiny pressed buttercup, or a feather. He kept them in his mother’s old jewellery box. You had gone with him to the old house and found that it was abandoned with most of his belongings still there, which was a miracle in itself. Now he had bought the house and sat in it sometimes when he felt particularly down. Sometimes, you joined him, just touching his fingertips with your own, the short, yellow painted nails making a small tapping sound on the old flooring. They were always yellow, Bucky noticed.

Bucky was staring at those yellow nails. He was sat opposite you, on your way to the mission. You were in full black tactical gear, but you were still yellow. Your knives had a yellow hilt, and your nails were still yellow, and you still had a yellow hairband, and you still had your string around your wrist, and Bucky could just see the yellow flower peeking out from behind your hair. And you were still yellow in emotional ways. The way you traced lines between freckles was yellow, and your soft-almost-inaudible humming was yellow, and your gaze was yellow. You were the newest Avenger, still fairly inexperienced. You didn’t go on many missions with the Avengers, but the ones you went on were always the most enjoyable ones for Bucky. He loved turning to see you tie up one of the enemies with your vines. He loved staying with you while you made yellow flowers grow in the fields outside of the bases. Yellow flowers were something you always left behind, even if it was just one.

The quinjet landed and the doors opened. Steve was the first out, his shield already out. Natasha had her knives ready to go and Bucky had his gun cocked. You clenched your fists briefly and Bucky saw you pick a small senna flower out of your palm. You reached out to him and tucked it behind his ear.

“For luck,” you whispered. Bucky smiled at you.

“Thank you.” You smiled back at him before stepping out of the quinjet.

You were having the time of your life. Vines were tying up Hydra agents faster than they could come and you were tearing through them to the room where the intel was supposedly held. You didn’t even have to think about it anymore as you got rid of them. Bucky was close behind you, putting a bullet in the head of anyone you tied up. You grew a flower in every bullet wound; you didn’t like death and always grew beauty where there was ugliness. Bucky found it cute and hoped you wouldn’t stop. You made it to a room full of computers. Bucky slammed the door shut and you grew vines over it to lock it. You knew close to nothing about computers so Bucky dealt with that while you stood guard. You played absentmindedly with your powers, growing a small buttercup on your palm. Buttercups were your favourite simply for their tiny stature and innocent yellow colour. You heard fighting through your earpiece and winced slightly every time you heard a gunshot. Beyond that, though, it was silent. To any other, it would have been suspicious, but to you, it just meant you had done your job right. Being the least experienced came with that sort of naïvité. It was to be expected that someone with as little experience actually in the field wouldn’t pick up on that sort of thing.

That’s why it came as no shock to anyone but you when the sudden storm of Hydra agents appeared out of nowhere, guns blazing. You yelled for Bucky, holding out your hand, the yellow buttercup still there. Thick, green vines erupted from your body, crawling out from your shoulders and chest and running along your arms until you directed them at the agents. The vines pierced their hearts and you felt a tear creep down your cheek. You never wanted to kill people with your powers, but you didn’t have much of a choice in this situation. You needed to protect Bucky. Bucky was fully aware of the situation, but couldn’t risk the sensitive information the mission depended on. He looked up every now and again to make sure you were handling it and felt overwhelmingly relieved when he saw that you had resorted to building an enormous dome around the two of you.

You grunted slightly as you built the dome around yourself and Bucky. Building domes were not usually your first choice as they took so long and used up so much energy. You had just about finished it when a Hydra agent slid under a desk, gun ready.

There was a shot.

Your chest burned as something ripped through it.

You fell, and for the first time in your life, you weren’t yellow; You were red. Bright, bright red.

Bucky screamed. This wasn’t right. He dove over to you, kicking the Hydra agent hard enough to elicit a snap from the man’s neck. The man fell to the ground limply, just as you had done moments earlier. Your hand was resting next to you and Bucky saw the small buttercup, tainted with red. He couldn’t help but see you in the tiny wildflower.

“Bucky,” you groaned, hissing through the pain.

“Hey, I’m here. You’re alright. It’s okay,” Bucky whispered gently, pressing a hand to your chest. Your back arched in pain. “Steve, I need medevac. We’re in the intel room. (Y/N)’s been shot.” You heard a faint crackling from his comm, which you assumed was Steve replying. You felt the ground beneath your back, the dirt and small rocks from the bottom of well-worn soldiers’ boots. You felt the warmth of a single stream of light that penetrated the dome. You felt Bucky’s fingers grabbing desperately at your wound, begging for the hole to close miraculously; for you to pull through.

“Come on now,” Bucky whispered. “You’re alright.” You blinked up at him, trying to make sense of the world around you. You weren’t used to such hyperfocus. You’d never been shot before, how were you supposed to be accustomed to the rush of adrenaline that came with it? You gasped out another breath, realising it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. Bucky increased the pressure on your wound and you released a low, whining sound.

“Hey, you’re alright. Just gotta wait for Stevie is all. He’ll cover us and we’ll get you some proper help, hmm?” Bucky promised, speaking softly. As if on cue, there was the sound of footsteps and a loud cracking as Steve used his shield to break through the vines.

“Oh my God,” Steve exhaled, bending down next to you. Bucky glanced up at Steve.

“Can you cover us while I carry her and run back to the helicarrier?” Bucky asked. Steve nodded.

“Yeah, I’ve called Bruce, so he’s ready for her. Cho also knows,” Steve said. Bucky nodded and stood up, you in his arms. The red of your blood mixed with the yellow of your soul, basking Bucky in a sunset orange. Sunset, the end of the day. The end of a life. Bucky was suddenly more determined to get you to Bruce. He started sprinting.

You opened your eyes, blinking blearily as you took in your surroundings. White walls. White ceiling. White sheets and white bandages around your chest. You glanced to your right and saw Bucky. His soft hair hung over his face and he was slouched awkwardly in a position that could only bring pain. His breaths came in a steady rhythm as he snored softly.

“Bucky?” You asked softly. His head shot up and his eyes snapped open. You felt bad for waking him up, but he really needed to get some food and sleep in a proper bed.

“Y/N,” he breathed. “Oh god, you’re awake.” You nodded slowly.

“How long has it been?” You asked.

“A-about three days. They had you hopped up on painkillers and sleep meds,” he admitted.

“You’ve been here for three days?” You asked him. He nodded sheepishly.

“Couldn’t leave my best girl all alone, now could I?” He grinned at you. You shook your head.

“Buck….” He stared at you. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have you accept him and want him there when she was weak. He was still getting over the fact that you would let his black leech on your yellow.

“Kiss me,” he said suddenly. You looked up at him.

“Now?” You asked. He nodded.

“I mean if you want to. I just...we’ve known each other for like two months but every time I see you I just feel this surge of-“

“Bucky.”

“-and I just needed to get that out-“

“Buck,” you laughed slightly at his rambling.

“-but if you don’t wanna then that’s oka-“

“Bucky. Stop. It’s okay. I wanna kiss you too,” you interrupted. That stopped him. He made eye contact with, properly this time.

“You….you do?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. A grin crossed his face as he leant forward, letting his lips meet yours. You had been yellow, and red. Perhaps Bucky had even turned you a little bit black for a while. But now you were something you had never been. Now, you were white. Now you were pure, untainted, whole. You were radiant and new. You were the white wildflowers and the fluffy white clouds. You were white like Bucky was black.

Taglist: @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes

#Bucky Barnes #bucky #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #MCU #marvel #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfics #marvel fanfiction

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squirenonny · 7 years

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Hi there!! Wrt you mentioning about team stimming parties, I was wondering, what types of stimming (toys, materials, their own body etc) do you think the paladins enjoy the most, or get the most benefit from. It's really enjoyable image ; w ; but I know some stims can conflict with other peoples needs, so what might be someones fave might annoy someone else. So I wonder what either makes them most happy, or helps them best when needed! (QwQ Those are intense circumstances they all live in.)

I got carried away,,

Keith: Mainly tactile stims, a few visual stims

Textures: there are Good textures, and there are Bad textures, which is why he always wears his same jacket (good texture) and gloves (first line of defense against bad textures–see also my post about Keith’s gloves). In general, wet and cold is definitely Bad, smooth is usually bad. His favorite textures are (a) layered (running his finger over the wrap on his knife and plucking at the edge of a layer) or (b) ribbed (things like corduroy, or the seams on jeans and jackets that have that edge he can catch his fingernail on.)

Repetitive motions: that classic thumb rubbing that we saw in his vlog. These are typically very tiny movements that he tries to hide–he’ll rub his toes together inside his shoe or tap the toe of his boot against the floor.

Deep pressure & buoyancy: Keith is pretty touch averse, so he doesn’t seek out deep pressure often, but if he’s in the right mood a Shiro (or Hunk) Hug is A++. He also needs a blanket to sleep, preferably two or three. Yes, even in the hottest part of summer. Tight pants/shirt are soothing, and ngl he likes his Blade uniform because it’s a more even pressure than the paladin armor, which is too heavy on his shoulders and too thin/flexible where there isn’t the outer layer of armor. On the flip side, he also likes swimming because of the bouyancy. (Interestingly, he hates the feel of rain/shower water falling on him. It’s just too overwhelming. But being in the water and just floating there is v relaxing.)

Visual stims: mostly the way light reflects off his blade when he twists it back and forth and similar reflection/refraction things (light reflecting off water, mirages, the abundance of glowy things in space… he’ll sometimes stare at the crystal on the bridge for the entire briefing–completely engaged with what people are saying, just. Staring at the ceiling. It’s mesmerizing, okay?)

Chewing: rare, but more common as he gets more comfortable around the other paladins. He used to chew on his pens at the Garrison all the time, and one of the reasons he keeps his hair long (aside from not having the spoons to cut it/get it cut and not liking change in the first place) is so that he can suck/chew on his hair. He had to cut it when he first entered the Garrison, and it’s just finally getting long enough to do it again.

The thing about Keith’s stims is that they’re all very lowkey things he an do to calm himself down without drawing anyone’s attention. Probably he had bad experiences at school or in a foster home with kids making fun of his stims or his foster parents/teachers hammering “sit still” and “quiet hands” into him until he completely stopped doing anything immediately noticeable. He used to flap and run around when he was happy, but he doesn’t do that so much anymore. (It’s coming back, though, especially with Pidge and Lance being such big stimmers.)

As a result, his stims don’t really bother the others too much. Lance has a moral objection to Keith chewing on his hair in particular, and if he’s using a chewer, the sound of it sometimes gets to Pidge, but that’s it.

Pidge: visual, vestibular, and auditory stims

Spinning, flapping, bouncing: A lot of Pidge’s stims involve moving around (see the entire time Beezer was onscreen.) There’s a spinny chair in Green’s lab for the express purpose of happy spins, and the team knows to be ready for excited flapping when something Pidge is working on comes out right. (Lance has been hit in the face on more than one occasion because he likes to drape himself over Pidge’s shoulder.) Bounces in place when bored, runs around the castle at odd hours, climbs the other paladins. Very much a “I have too much energy in me and need to expend it somehow” stimmer.

Music: Pidge usually has music playing in Green’s lab–invariably at deafening levels (the bass pulse in your chest is just as important as the music itself). Upbeat songs are best, but any kind of background noise will do. Has started a collection of alien music since this laptop only has a small portion of Pidge’s library (most of the hard drive was dedicated to Kerberos research/snooping on the Garrison.)

Echolalia: Pidge is big into echolalia. (Pidge isn’t the only one who’s big into echolalia. Lance is also a fan, and Hunk usually joins in when they start an echolalia party.) In particular, Pidge will quote movies/TV shows, echo robot noises back at whatever robot happens to be nearby, and make quiet trilling sounds while working on code

Misc visual stims: There isn’t any one thing Pidge goes to for visual stims, but gradual changes (a la screensavers, lava lamps, auroras, glitter jars) have a tendency to turn into time sinks. Pidge has absolutely spent an hour staring at a screen saver without realizing it while idly musing about programming problems.

Repetitive noises: Can be either good or bad. Mechanical sounds, electronic whirring, and other white noise are great. Sudden, jarring, or grating noises are huge Nos. (See Keith’s chewing and some of Lance’s echolalia.)

Pidge’s flapping and running has a tendency to make Shiro tense up, especially if he’s not in a good place to begin with, so Pidge sometimes has to remember to stay chill or just go somewhere else until the energy is gone. Keith doesn’t like how loud Pidge plays music (it hurts his ears), but he respects personal boundaries and won’t turn it down. He’ll leave if he can, and if he has to stay, he’ll get irritated and snappish until Pidge makes the connection and turns down the volume. It’s the only real sticking point between them when it comes to stims, and they’re working on better communication to make sure it isn’t an issue in the future.)

Lance: Primarily vestibular and auditory stims, plus deep pressure

Spinning, dancing, flying: Lance loves to move. He loves spinning and dancing and big motions and G-forces. (He’s a huge fan of roller coasters and other amusement park rides.) Flying is such a stim for him, holy crap. So much so that it can become a problem. Loops, barrel rolls, sharp turns, hard acceleration–he loves the way it all pushes on his body (see also: deep pressure) and the way it makes him hyper aware of the physical sense of motion. Sometimes he pays so much attention to the sensations that he momentarily loses track of where he’s going–which is why he still sometimes crashes/sideswipes the other lions.

Deep pressure: Lance is a very touchy person in general, but in particular he loves hugs and cuddle piles. His favorite thing is to have Pidge sprawled across his lap, or when he and Hunk are sprawled on the couch in a tangle of limbs, or group hugs, or–Yeah. all of the above. Deep pressure feels like home.

Aerial dance: A combination of vestibular and deep pressure stims. Loves the muscle control it requires for the same reason he loves G-forces while flying. It grounds him, makes him aware of the space he occupies. Add to that the pressure of the silks wrapped around his body and the spinning and negative Gs as he drops, and it’s just the best.

Echolalia: Lance and Pidge can have entire conversations in quotes. Lance also makes sound effects for anything and everything (in training, while flying/fighting in his lion, while cleaning, while dancing through the halls.) He sings nonsense tunes a lot and hums both for the sound and the feel of it.

Voices: Conversation itself can be a stim for Lance, regardless of whether or not he’s a participant. The fastest way for him to fall asleep is by having the people he cares about around talking (e.g. his parents laughing and joking as they clean up in the other room, Hunk and Lance talking less and less coherently as they fall asleep in their room at the Garrison, Pidge and Keith up late during a sleepover in the rec room talking in low voices.) Lance doesn’t even need to hear the words; there’s something soothing about the cadence of it. He’ll use TV or music as a substitute if he has to, and he finds it very hard to fall asleep in total silence.

Lance is a dramatic stimmer, so it totally depends on the rest of the team’s energy levels as to whether or not they’re bothered by it. Most of the time, Hunk and Pidge will join in, and the rest of the team at least doesn’t mind. If they’re tired, though, Lance’s raw energy can be Too Much. There were some clashes early on with Pidge until they worked out a system where Lance’s cuddles didn’t get in the way of Pidge’s hyperfocus on a project. Hunk’s cool with all of Lance’s stims except when he’s in the lion/ship Lance is piloting, because Lance’s stimmy rides make Hunk nauseous.

Mostly, though, if there’s a problem, it’s with Keith or Shiro–and even those are pretty rare. Keith is mostly just confused by Lance’s stims, and isn’t bothered by them unless he’s already in a bad mood and wants to be left alone. Then Lance’s big presence can be too much. And Shiro can be set on edge by Lance’s stims for the same reason Pidge’s can get to him: Shiro’s idea of soothing is calm and quiet, and both Lance and Pidge are… the opposite of that when they’re happy and relaxed. Lance picks up on this quick and usually is able to dial it back right away.

Hunk: Taste, smell, and tactile stims

Taste: Hunk must put All the things in his mouth. Tasting alien foods/spices, yes, but also anything. Flowers. Glittery pink snow-stuff. Purple water. He did this with the Olkari headsets, so I mean. It’s canon. Sorry, I don’t make the rules. This bleeds over into tactile stimming, honestly (see: Olkari headset making his tongue itchy. He sounds so pleased by that I just can’t. I love him.) It also has the unfortunate side effect of having put him in a pod more than once because he accidentally poisoned himself. Worth it, though.

Smell: Hunk cooks to calm down for two reasons. One, it breaks him out of his cyclical thoughts and other anxious habits, giving him something else to focus on that’s familiar and controllable. Two, the smells. Some people have scented candles. Hunk has a rack of extracts. Also, like? Flour has a really bland but comforting smell? And let’s not even get into the smell of a finished dish. Cookies? Pies? Bread?? The kitchen is paradise for many reasons, and olfactory stims are one.

Deep pressure: This team is united in their love of deep pressure, tbh. Group hugs are great all around, and Hunk’s only too happy to dish them out. Always glad to be a pillow for one of the other paladins. Wears a thick vest for that extra little bit of pressure around his chest.

Tinkering: There’s something really satisfying about feeling machine parts click into place under his hands–and the oil is only a bonus, as far as Hunk’s concerned. He’ll take things apart and put them back together on an endless repeat just to feel the weight/texture/shape of the pieces. Also great for repetitive motions. See: stimming with the wires and making the sentry bot hit itself while the younger paladins were waiting in the control room in season 1.

Misc tactile stims: Hunk just likes touching things/holding things/fiddling with things. He likes to have something to do with his hands, so even if he doesn’t mean to, he’ll usually find something to play with when he’s bored or trying to focus on something Shiro or Allura is saying.

Hunk, like Keith, has a lot of less obvious stims–though in Hunk’s case it’s less because he’s trying to suppress it and more because his favorite stims are typically ambient things. Put him in a happy environment and he’ll be happy. He’s grossed out almost everyone on the team by the kinds of things he licks/bites, and Pidge gets annoyed when his tinkering turns into fiddling with Pidge’s stuff. Otherwise, he’s pretty chill.

Shiro: Auditory, tactile, and a few vestibular stims

Shiro has two modes: lowkey and highkey

Lowkey Shiro likes things to be calm and quiet. Ambient noises (air in vents, breathing, his own heartbeat) can be stims, but anything that interrupts the (near) silence is a major Sensory Bad. Deep pressure is good when he’s in this state, as is the texture of whatever chair/couch/bed he’s resting on. He’ll be hyperaware of his body, especially its weight, and he’ll run through relaxation exercises or meditation techniques to chase that peculiar calmness that comes when he’s intimately aware of himself and his immediate environment but his mind is completely quiet.

Highkey Shiro, like Pidge, has too much energy and needs to burn it off. He’ll pace or go for a run, or spar, the pounding of his footsteps/clash of his arm on the gladiator’s weapon serving as a grounding force in addition to the release of restless energy. When he can’t leave to burn off energy, he’ll clench and unclench his prosthetic hand, squeeze his arms, and grind his teeth. The repetitive motion and the tug/pressure/pull of it is soothing and helps to take the edge off the frustration/anxiety/overstimulation he’s dealing with.

The most notable thing about Shiro is that almost all of his stims are unconscious–meditation/relaxation techniques being the main exception. He didn’t stim a whole lot before Kerberos, but he does it a lot more frequently after his capture.

As he gets to know the other paladins and becomes more familiar with their stims, he starts to be more deliberate about it–he wears a weighted vest like Hunk’s a lot of the time and usually has a fidget toy with him to stim with during long meetings. Lance also entices him out for relaxing flights in the lions, because as it turns out the sensations of piloting are good for Shiro the same way they are for Lance.

Shiro’s stims don’t bother anyone–in fact, for a long time, no one even realized Shiro was stimming–but he’s by far the most likely to be bothered by the other paladins’ stims. He needs to be in control of his environment, and unexpected/uncontrollable stimuli tend to set him on edge.

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