#*shrugs* i guess those are maybe tags people would want to read this in

[transmandrake]

This is rich coming from someone with adhd who's finished very little, but, gotta say, one of my longest pet peeves is advice thats like

"dont start with the really big thing you want to make! Start with little things to get better until you can do what you actually want to do!"

This seems like good advice but, as someone who has basically worked on like 1-3 ideas at a time Ever, and really should be the textbook example of why you dont do this, I dont think it really matters.

If you make something, and come back to it years later, and redo it, is the original unfinished? Is the redo and the original two separate things or a chronological view of the same thing?

I really don't think someone who redoes the same small piece of a big thing over and over 10 times necessarily is failing or not learning as much as someone who does 10 different small things completely. The only difference is probably a less varied learning, and that one person has 10 things to show off and the other has maybe 1 that doesnt stand on its own.

Does that matter? Its probably a better comparison of learning, but, does it really impact your learning itself?

Yes, tunnel vision isnt good, but i dont think this advice actually helps with that... its just as easy to do 10 slightly different things and not learn much. Or you could work on 10 wildly different parts of a bigger thing. The scope of the project does not necessarily correlate with potential learning.

It doesnt matter how big the thing you want to make is, what matters is that its the thing you Want To Make.

Like... you know what? You don't have to finish anything. Its not your job. Unless it is in which youre kinda beyond this... Theres no like. Exp gain bonus when you finish something. Nothing is ever finished, just stops being working on.

I think this advice... is very geared towards Making Products. Finishing and releasing things, schedules, limitations... Obviously these matter but it all kinda revolves around the idea that things finish, at all. That the end goal of creativity is eyes on your work, a distinct Thing that can be Shared.

I think theres a somewhat silly idea that people literally start to work on their big project and like. Lose their marbles when they cant instantly know how to do all of it. People definitely underestimate how much work has to go into things, but I dont think that people start learning something with the mindset they... dont need to learn things. I had no idea how to model my creatures when i started learning blender, I literally only wanted to do that, that doesnt mean i was 'starting with something small' when i clicked on a 'how blender works' tutorial, modelling tutorial or rigging tutorial. I knew those were building blocks to the thing i wanted to do. My first models were garbage but they were what I *wanted* to make.

I'm never going to finish my comic, I'm never going to model all my creatures, I'm never going to get all of my ideas out of my head and into a presentable form. This is okay. In fact, this is good! Being done sounds horrible. There is no goal, there is no limit. And stopping worrying about that has ironically made it so much easier to do stuff and start stuff, knowing I can just start over if I fuck up. Finished things, don't have as many mistakes, and mistakes are so, so important to have.

[whiskeyghoul]

Pt2. || She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid x Goth!Reader]

Read part 1 here

Read part 3 here

A/N: OMG I can’t believe how much people enjoyed part 1? Seriously, as I am finishing this part up it has reached over 500 notes, I am shocked and so very thankful for the love. I didn’t expect it. A silly little fic not proof read, totally self indulgent, really this is so wonderful and I appreciate everyone who has taken the time to read it and reblog, like or comment on it. I hope part 2 doesn’t disappoint. Part 3 is going to be here soon too, which will be the unofficial date.

WC: 1,9K ~

Tags: Fluff, just fluff, Spencer is a flustered mess, Alt!Reader, Goth!Reader, 2 idiots flirting, Reader and Penelope are besties, use of Y/N, Penelope has been playing matchmaker, alluding to a date, crushes.

Warnings: None. 

Your pov.

It was a late Sunday afternoon. You were sitting on Penelope Garcia’s couch, cup of hot tea in hand. Legs curled up on the couch with a colorful blanket over your lap. It clashed just ever so slightly with your dark outfit. The two of you are in complete contrast to each other. Penelope was a ball of color in a bright purple dress with a lemon pattern, large yellow earrings and a blue bolero sweater. Compared to your all black ensemble she was a ray of sunshine. An array of snacks spread out over the coffee table. The aforementioned peppy blonde was sitting next to you on the couch. Deeply engrossed with the romance show playing on the TV. You watched it together every Sunday, when a new episode would come out. Today your mind was somewhere else completely.

“He hasn’t called yet.” You spoke up. Penelope eyed you curiously, “Who?” She asked, her focus gone from the show. Her eyes peered at you with interest from behind the cat eye glasses she had picked out that day. “Doctor Reid.” You turned your head back to the TV casually, trying to not seem bothered. You could hear Penelope hold back a small squeal. It sounded more like a gasp that way. “Oh my god! Are you interested in him? What did he do to impress you? I have been trying to set you up for ages! You have shot down any person I have discussed with you. Always something wrong.” She started rambling, hearing the clink of her glass being put on the coffee table. Her hands grabbed yours, making you look back at her and rolling your eyes. “Firstly: I am not ‘interested’ in him. Secondly: I just thought he would have called by now. Or stopped by at least.” You shrugged noncommittally. You were just a little interested. Thinking back to that meeting.

When Spencer had stepped into the lab earlier that week, courtesy of Penelope, you had found his awkward demeanor endearing. He was hot, that was for sure, and tall, you remembered having to look up at him, Those dark brown eyes pinning you in place. Especially when you had stood so close together. You had wanted to tease him after watching him stumble over his sentences. See him even more flustered. It made you somewhat excited. When you had given him your number you could feel his pulse racing under his skin. He had shown many signs of being interested yet he hadn’t even texted you. It made you rethink the interaction. 

“Well, he couldn’t have stopped by. They got called on a case in Utah so he’s not really in the area right now.” Penelope clarified. Those words put your mind at ease more than you expected them to. “Oh, I guess he can’t really get to the lab then.” You shrugged. Just a little disappointed but feeling relieved that apparently he hadn’t meant to not visit you. Or maybe he had done so on purpose if he would be close. Your earlier relief was replaced by a mild panic again. Trying to convince yourself you weren’t interested in Dr. Reid. Although, he could have texted.

You could practically feel Penelope smirk as you turned your attention back on the TV. Unable to focus but pretending to. “Spence is not one for texting. He probably has been getting to the hotel at ungodly hours and hasn’t had time to call.” it was like she could read your mind. “Don’t do that.” You said with a shudder. “Do what?” Penelope questioned innocently. “Read my mind like that. It’s weird.” You answered, making her laugh. “Just goes to show how well I know you.” She answered with a smile. It was true. She knew you too well you would even argue. The fact both of you were women in a male dominated field, both dressed eccentricly, and both with a passion for cheesy movies and tv shows. It was only a matter of time until you were best friends after your first run in.

Your phone, which was placed on the table, lit up at that moment. The ringtone played at a high volume, making the cure blast through the room. Your eyes quickly flickered to the screen. Caller ID unknown. You picked up the phone, hesitant of the unknown caller, deciding to hang up instead. You had been plagued by telemarketers for the past month and really didn’t want to deal with that right now. If it was important they would call again. And they did, you still had your phone in your hands when it went off again. “Just pick it up! I will keep watch over our show, fill you in later.” Penelope said, motioning her hands for you to get up. You got off the couch, soft blanket falling to the ground as you picked up the phone. Softly padding away to the kitchen to be out of earshot of Penelope. “Y/n speaking.” you answered, waiting to hear from the other end of the line.

“Hey… ehm… is this not the right time? Are you busy?” The voice on the other end of the line made you straighten up slightly in surprise. “Doctor Reid.” You breathe out his name quietly, adding a “Now is a perfectly good time.” to your sentence. Wondering how hearing his voice through the slightly tin-like phone speaker made you feel a little flutter in your stomach. “Good… I didn’t want to bother you. You can just call me Spencer by the way. Doctor sounds too formal. I just introduce myself like that. It’s a habit. I don’t call you Doctor L/n either. So call me Spencer.” He started rambling. A smile spread across your lips, this rambly version was different from how speechless he had been in the lab. You held back a giggle. Apparently you had rendered him speechless in the lab. “Alright, Spencer.” You answered, the humor in your voice apparent. His breath hitched a little on the other side of the line. 

“Why did you call?” You asked, trying to continue on without dawdling. “Oh eh, the report, I ehm…” He was quiet for a moment. It crossed your mind that maybe he didn’t need to speak with you, but he wanted to. “Yes?” You urged after a silence had fallen on the other side of the phone line. There was an intake of breath from Spencer, a moment that signaled he might be trying to raise some courage. “I didn’t want to talk about the report.” He finally spoke. It made you smile, your cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “Oh, well then what did you want to talk about?” You added a bit of playfulness in your tone. You pictured him, holding the phone to his ears that were tipped red. His face was probably just as flushed as it had been in the lab. 

“I ehm- I haven’t been able to focus, on the case that is. Because I keep thinking about the lab. How I probably came off as a mess, I just didn’t know what to say because you looked so… Not that you look bad because you don’t, you looked really nice. Emily says my IQ gets slashed down to 68 when I am around pretty girls. I wanted to make a good impression. I couldn’t find the words though. I usually don’t make great first impressions, because I tend to ramble. Just- I really really hope I didn’t make a bad first impression.” His sentences flowed into each other like word vomit. Nervous, quick, and hardly understandable. Luckily, you were trained in the art of understanding nervous rambles when Penelope would spiral into one from time to time. However he had called you pretty. “Spencer.” You said his name almost like a question. There was a beat of silence. “Yes?” He asked softly, he sounded so nervous.

“You didn’t make a bad impression. I gave you my number for a reason.” You told him with a smile, a little giddy as the words ‘he called me pretty’ kept bouncing around your head. “And I am sorry I called without any real reason to… I know it was for talking about the report. Though Morgan tried to convince me it wasn’t.” Spencer answered. You rolled your eyes at that. Ofcourse, this hyper intelligent man would mix up what you were trying to do. “I gave you my number because I wanted you to call me. Not about the report. I just wanted you to call me. About anything.” There was apparently a need to clear up that confusion. It was silent for another moment. “Oh.” It was like realization dawned on him. “So I should have called sooner, right?” His question made you laugh softly, trying not to clue in Penelope on your call.  “Yes, you should have. Or could have at least. I was waiting.” You answered back, smiling at the ground. You fidgeted with one of the large rings on your free hand, twisting the cool metal round with your thumb.

“I’m sorry I didn’t.” You could almost hear the smile in his voice. The slight uptick in his pitch. You imagined he was still fiddling with the sleeve of his sweater, or was perhaps looking at his shoes with a grin. “You can make it up to me by buying me a coffee when you get back.” The suggestion came naturally, you didn’t even have to think about it. The words left your lips before you could, really. “What do you like?” Spencer asked without hesitation. “Cinnamon latte.” You answered it softly, a little surprised he agreed so readily. A giddy feeling in your stomach. “Alright, cinnamon latte, I’ll remember.” Spencer sounded a little breathy, like he too was feeling giddy at the prospects of having coffee together. Like the idea of taking time to get to know each other at work over a warm beverage was the perfect first date. “What do you like?” You asked in turn, wanting to know what he would usually get. Knowing more about him would feel so domestic and sweet. “Black coffee, usually with tons of sugar.” He had a hint of embarrassment in your voice. A little muffled like he had covered his mouth to hold in the confession of drinking it so sweet. You smiled at his answer. Of course he had a sweet tooth. “Tons of sugar, I’ll remember.” You mirrored his words. 

“Oh! My! God!” You heard Penelope gasp from the living room. Knocking you out of your little phone call bubble with Spencer. “I think I have to go. You better call me tomorrow.” You said it lightheartedly. Just wanting to hear from him again soon. “I will. I’ll call you.” Spencer answered. “Bye Spencer.” “Bye Y/n.” You hung up with a smile, already turning and walking back into the living room. Penelope turned around on the couch to look at you, “They shot Richard!” She looked absolutely shocked as she gave you the news of your favorite character being hurt. You couldn’t wipe the smile from your face though. “Spencer called.” You saw her face form from a shocked to surprise expression, “Oh! My! God!” She sounded a lot happier that time, and you knew you wouldn't hear the end of it.

[anasanthology]

Always Close Your Tabs.

WARNINGS: NSFW 18+ MDNI (I don’t care who reads just if your account age is set to under 18 don’t interact please), step-cest, pseudo-incest, stepbrother/stepsister pairing, degradation kink, light face slapping, very light praise kink, Dom/Sub, lowkey Hard Dom!Leon Kennedy, face fucking, oral (m receiving), mean Leon (I feel he’s a little ooc), like one mention of breeding kink, we got a little sweet aftercare at the end, not as tame as other stuff I’ve written, fem-specific gendered terms. Not proofread.

Notes: FIRST LEON FIC I’M POSTING 😚 actually feeling kinda good about this one! I felt like finishing this and posting it today so here so go!!! I hope you like it ☺️ as always, likes and—especially—comments are very VERY much appreciated 😌 if you have any tags you think I should add just tell me cause I’m not sure if I missed any 🧐 ANYWAYS, enjoy, lovelies 💕

4.5k words | Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Reader

The couch was irritating you, you were hyper aware of it, the texture, the firmness, everything about it. It didn’t matter where you sat though, everywhere was irritating. Everything was irritating. Your parents were out of town on some dumb anniversary. No. Your parent and her husband. Leaving you home alone with your stepbrother.

 Leon. 

He was annoying. He was rude, crass, and bitchy. When your mom had told you she was seeing a guy you were happy for her, until she told you that he had a son a few months older than you. Other kids was the one dealbreaker for you, but your mom loved this man so much and you didn’t exactly have much time left to live with her. You could deal with it. So you met Leon, he didn’t talk the entire dinner but to introduce himself and then order something. This was 8 months ago.

Now you live with him.

You were sure that there were worse people to live with, like… Bundy or Dahmer maybe. He always had those loudmouth friends of his over. Chris, who would spend the whole time yelling at the tv and Luis, who would just flirt with you the whole time. The worst of it was that they would only hang out in the living room so you were always confined to your room till they left. That was unless you wanted to hear, ‘ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! THAT DIDN’T EVEN TOUCH ME,’ and, ‘Hola, señorita, ¿Qué pasa? You look gorgeous,’ which… you didn’t wanna hear that. Not to even mention how insufferable he was when they weren’t around. Which was the situation now. Sitting on the couch next to you was Leon Kennedy, staring up at the tv watching Desperate Housewives. He had this constant resting dick face that never seemed to go away, and along with that he also seemed to be followed by resting dick air everywhere he went. Especially now that his dad took away his phone and other electronics before your guys’ parents left for their trip. Because apparently that man cared jack shit for your sanity. Now, Leon was irritated. He was insufferable when he was irritated. It just radiated off of him and you were a porous permeable surface. You guys sat like that until…

“Can I use your laptop?”

“What?” You turned to him, his words bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Can I use your laptop?” He repeated himself.

“Uh… sure, I guess?” Shrugging you got off the couch before stopping in your tracks and pointing at him, “but I get to use your car!” Your eyes widen with excitement and you point at him.

“No, no way. You are not driving my car. Not gonna happen.” He huffed in amusement and shook his head.

“And why not?” Your hands went to your hips and you made a face.

“Because,” he mocks your tone, “you’ll crash it.”

“Says you! Leon, you are like the king of bad driving. You hit a tree last month! A tree! They don’t even move and they’ve been there for like years!” Your hands were flying everywhere at this point. You had your license, but since Leon was a little older and got his a little before you he got a car. And since he got a car—and only Jeff Bezos could comfortably pay for his car insurance—you didn’t get one, you had to share with your mom and stepdad. But since they were halfway across the country, you were stuck here.

“It was in my blind spot!”

“What about that mailbox last week? Or Ms. Anderson’s side mirror? Everything can’t be in your blind spot, Leon. That’s what windows are for.” you close your eyes and sigh, “you know what, I don’t care. Bottom line is, if you don’t let me drive your car, no laptop.” You knew you were reaching, but you didn’t care. It’s not like you lost anything if he said no. It wasn’t fair he got the car anyways, your mom promised you a year ago on your birthday that when you got your license she’d take you to a used car dealership and you could pick one. But apparently ‘situations change’ and ‘things don’t always go as planned’, so you were left having to explain to your friends that it actually wasn’t gonna happen. Leon could practically burn holes through your face with the way he was looking at you, honestly that’s probably what he was thinking about. He sighs and closes his eyes.

“Fine.” He opens his eyes and gives you just about the brattiest look imaginable. You just smile and giggle. Your eyes widened in surprise. You were not expecting him to actually say yes.

“Okay!” You practically sprint upstairs to your room, grabbing your laptop off the bed. You make your way back downstairs and bring it to him. “Here ya go!”

“Thanks.” He takes it with a scowl and gets up.

“Whaddya need it for anyways?”

“Because I wanna watch stuff.” He responds flatly.

“What kinds of stuff?” ‘Porn?’ Was your first thought, but you opted not to verbalize that. 

“Stuff you can’t watch on the tv?”

“Yes.”

“Why not?” You blinked at him.

“Because you’re watching the tv in here, dingus.” He didn’t look guilty. You know, like you would if you were gonna use your stepsister’s laptop to watch porn off of. He just looks annoyed. “Can I go watch some shit now or you gonna keep interrogating me, detective?”

“Jeez, moody. Sure, go.” You shoo him and turn back to the tv as you sit on the couch. He walks away to his room and you lay back covering your face with your arm. It felt like a weight had been lifted, the tension gone immediately. Part of you wanted to say it was just because he made the air so thick with irritation he could suffocate a room, but you knew that wasn’t completely true…

Leon was hot, like crazy hot.

It was frustrating being around that all day and night. Eating dinner across from an actual model… not easy. It was especially not easy when that model was a sarcastic asshole, and it was especially especially not easy when you kinda liked it. Yes every comment pissed you off, made you want to scream sometimes, punch a hole in the wall. but it also had you wondering… ‘would he… I mean in bed did he…’ god you hoped so. ‘Ew, no you didn’t.’ It was dumb—and entirely inappropriate—but that’s all you could think about when he was around. At some point all the irritation and hatred you had for him just living here, turned into… something you shouldn’t think about.

But who cares.

You didn’t have time to think about that. You had much more pressing matters to attend to, like… desperate housewives. You sit up and lay your body on top of your legs like you were folding yourself in half. You looked up at the screen and flipped onto your back kicking your legs over the back of the couch. It was like you just couldn’t get comfortable no matter what. 

“Mmmmmuuhhhhhh.” Sighing you sat back up like normal, pulling the blanket off the back of the couch and onto your tired form. And then it hit you.

The computer.

‘Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.’ Standing up abruptly you started making your way to Leon’s room, practically running up the stairs.

You were tired last night. Really, really tired.

So maybe, just maybe, you forgot to close out of a tab last night. Or maybe a couple. Besides it is your computer, why do you need to close out of anything? You don’t, or at least you don’t when your step brother isn’t using your computer.

“Leon, I need my computer.” You knocked at his door and turned the knob quickly. Locked, of fucking course. “Leon?” Bouncing around a little on the balls of your feet, impatiently you step back from the door and shake the tension out of your hands. ‘Maybe he didn’t see it. Maybe he… didn’t even get on the computer yet. “Leon, I don’t… I don’t need your car. It’s fine, I asked Claire and she said she’d drive me this week.” His door opens like that’s exactly what he was waiting to hear.

“Okay, fine. Take it.” He steps away from the door and you walk inside, looking back at him you take extra attention to his expression. He definitely knows. You just turn back unable to think about that for too much longer, your face burning with heat as you pick up your laptop off of his bed. You feel a pair of hands snake around your waist and you tense up. “But first, I have to know why my slutty little sister thought it was a good idea to give me her laptop with porn open.” It was like your brain took a screenshot. ‘Did he just…’

“I don’t… Leon, I’m sorry. I didn’t-I forgot.”

“Oh you’re such a liar.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “No, I think you did it on purpose. You’re such a smart girl, I don’t believe you could be so stupid.” Your breath got heavier at his accusation.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I fell asleep ‘nd forgot it was on there.” He didn’t respond but his hands started running up and down your sides. “Leon, stop teasing me.” Your voice came out just a whiny whisper, sounding a lot more needy rather than urgent like you meant it.

“You know, I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be into that sort of stuff. Always get so nervous when Luis flirts with you, always get so flustered when people touch each other in a movie.” He was ignoring your request completely. “But it makes sense now, you get all shy cause you like it.” Your eyes widen and you squirm in his arms, not exactly trying to get away. Not really trying to get away at all actually. “Wonder how many times I’ve been sitting with you on the couch while your cunt gets all wet. So shameless, darling.” Your body is frozen in embarrassment, it’s kinda hot. ‘God. Don’t think like that Jesus.’

“No, never,” Liar. “Leon, I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Yet you aren’t trying to stop me, are you?” His voice is so completely self assured and cocky. Asshole. It made you so wet. You aren’t trying to stop him. You don’t want him to stop, even though you should. He pulls his hands back a little for you, so that if you want to get out you can. Without as much internal protest as you’d hoped, you stay completely still. “See, I was right. You are just a little slut who wants to get touched by her stepbrother.” You visibly cringe at that but feel slick spill into your panties at his words.

“Stop.”

“Stop what?” His hands go back around you, pulling you close to him. You could feel the outline of his hardened cock against you.

“Stop… being weird.” You shifted around in his arms.

“How am I being weird?” He snickered.

“Because you’re… stop saying it like that?” Your face was burning at this point. He was pushing up against you, pressing your hips against the edge of his bed.

“Saying it like what? Isn’t that exactly what’s going on? A dumb whore getting wet for her brother?”

“Leon.” His hand dipped down the front of your pants, running his finger down your clothed slit.

“Oh but why? It feels like you like it when I talk to you like that. I mean… given the videos you were watching, I bet you like it.” You pushed up against him. You just want him closer, it doesn’t matter if it’s wrong. He knew what he was doing, making you feel small, degrading you. “You do like it, fuck.” He started grinding himself against your back. You did like it, you wanted him to keep going, keep making you feel small.

“No it… Leon, it’s weird.”

“I know it is, but you like it. You like how depraved it makes you feel. You can’t deny it, I quite literally have seen the stuff you watch to get off.” He was laughing a little, it only amplified how hot and humiliating this was. “Can’t say I haven’t thought about it. Everytime you’d roll your eyes when I’d tease you all I could think about was taking it further, pinning you against the counter or the couch and just telling you anything I could think of.”

“Thought you said you didn’t think I’d be into this?”

“You can be into anything I want you to in my fantasies.” His other hand snakes up to start running his thumb up and down the column of your throat. This really should not have such an effect on you, but it does. Your eyes flutter and you let out a soft needy breath as you lay your head back against him. “Oh you like that? You like that I just imagine you in any position I want?” You nod your head reluctantly. Your lips open and close but no sound comes out. He’s barely even touched you but it feels like your tongue is twisted up in your mouth. You can feel your resolve just slipping away the more he speaks to you, the more he touches you.

“Leon, this is… this is so wrong…” your voice comes out so quiet you aren’t sure he could hear you. Or maybe it’s just because the blood pounding in your ears is so loud that you can barely hear yourself.

“But you like that don’t you? Yeah, I know you do.” His finger travels further up to slide across your bottom lip. Involuntarily—you tell yourself—your lips part slightly. He just laughs softly behind you, the smirk that was undoubtedly plastered on his face was audible. “Does this slutty girl want something in her mouth? There you go…” he slides his finger past your lips and onto your tongue. His thumb starts pushing slow thrusts against your tongue. Your hands go to hold onto his forearm feebly, not trying to move or stop him but just needing something to hold onto. “Yeah? You like it when I finger your pretty little mouth?” You just whine and start sucking around his thumb. “Fuck, bet you’d do so good on my cock.” You turned around to face him.

It was stupid, and you don’t know why you did it… yes you do, liar.

“What?” He grinned down at you. Now being able to see your lips around his thumb he couldn’t get enough of it. You knew you were turned on but holy shit you weren’t expecting him to look like… that. His mouth was slightly parted and his eyes were lidded. A light blush dusts his cheeks. God he looked good. You imagined you probably looked something similar, probably worse. “I asked you a question.” He pulls his thumb from your mouth and slides it down your chin and across your neck. ‘Oh, right.’

“I um… can I?” You swallowed heavily, barely able to focus on your words with his fingers rubbing at your soft skin.

“‘Can you’ what?” He just laughs, he can tell you’re struggling. Your face heats up with embarrassment realizing just how fuck-drunk you already are. And then he just gets the cockiest look on his face. “Oh, you wanna suck my cock? That what this is?” You just nod weakly, you couldn’t deny it if you tried. “Hmm? I can’t hear you, what do you want?”

“I wanna…” you swallow thickly, “I wanna suck your cock, please.” You chewed on the inside of your lip and just looked at him. He felt like he could just about cum from how needy your voice sounded when you said ‘please’.

“Fuck,” his hand slide up your neck and went to the back of your head. “I know you do. Now get on your knees.” His hand tangled in your hair right up against your scalp and he tightened his grip a little, pulling your head back ever so slightly in the process. The way he was talking to you, how he was treating you, all like you were just some object for his pleasure… fuck, it made you wet. If this situation could possibly get any worse from you guys just doing anything at all in the first place, getting turned on from your stepbrother degrading and objectifying you would definitely make it worse. You moaned softly when he pulled your hair as you started to kneel down in front of him slowly, struggling to resist the urge of responding ‘yes, sir.’ When your knees were on the ground and you finally stopped shifting around to get as comfortable as possible you finally realized the position you were in.

You were on your knees in front of your stepbrother about to suck him off…

But at this point, all thought or consideration of morality and shame had long been lost on you. Instead the lewdness of the situation only fueled the fire and part of you was just getting off on how wrong this was. You felt filthy and all it did was make you want to continue. ‘Shit, what the hell is wrong with me?’, would be what you’d typically be thinking. And you were, just less in a self-deprecating way and more in a self-humiliation way. You bite your lip at the site in front of you, Leon’s clothed hard cock in his gray sweatpants. He had noticed how fixated you were and tilted his head at you with a smirk. 

“You want it?” You just stared up at him and moved your hands up to his thighs as you slid them up. “I asked you a question, answer me.” He pulled your hair a little harder this time and you moaned a little louder.

“Yes, wan’ it, Leon, please.” You were completely breathless. It had felt like your mind had turned to mush. You hadn’t even registered his question as a question when he asked, you just wanted to touch him.

“Yeah, I know.” He pushed your head forward till your cheek was pressed up against his cock. “Pretty little cockwhore just wants me inside her.” Your breath quickened when he started grinding up against your face. “Or she just wants to feel me however I please.” His voice was teasing now and he just ground down against you harder.

“However you please, just… Leon, need you.” You barely even sounded like yourself anymore. Normal you would have just pushed him away in the beginning as you made your second-hand embarrassment apparent. Normal you would have known that that was one of the easiest ways to mess with someone and would have totally used it. But here you were instead, a strong-willed smart girl who never pulled any punches now on her knees getting debased completely and absolutely loving it.

“Mmm, you’ll let me use you however I want? What if this is how I wanna do it? What if I just wanna take my cock out and rub it against your face till I cum all over you?” Even in this state you knew he was trying to trap you. He wanted to get you to disagree so he could hear you begging for whatever you really wanted. But you wouldn’t disagree, cause you don’t.

“Even then, just anything you want.” He grinned at your reply. He was tempted, he really was, but after wanting you for so long he wasn’t gonna waste this chance just to prove a point. ‘Next time.’ He pulls your head back just a little so he can see your face. Your lips are slightly parted and you just stare up at him with a grazed over expression.

“Take it out.” He says firmly and raises his eyebrows. You look down at his crotch and bring your hands up to take his dick out of his pants. You feel a sudden sting on your cheek as he slaps you across the face. “No, look at me.” He grabs your jaw and tilts your face up towards his. You make eye contact with him as you start undoing the string on his sweatpants. Part of you wants to look away just so that he’ll slap you again but you don’t. You start pulling his sweatpants and underwear down till his cock swings free. Your eyes dart down to his dick and are only able to just barely register what you’re seeing before he slaps you again just a little harder. “Did you not hear what I said to you? Look. At. Me.” You moan softly and shake your head.

“I heard you, ‘m sorry I was just curious.” You sound a little like you’re about to cry but you’re far from sad about all this.

“You’re curious?” He mocks your voice and pouts his lip before scoffing and leaning down ever so slightly. His thumb caressing your neck. “Don’t worry, once I fuck this little throat you’ll have every answer you could possibly ask for.” You shudder a little before just nodding your head and opening your mouth. You loll your tongue out and he grins. “Yeah, stay like that.” He slaps his heavy tip on your tongue and you can taste the bitterness of his pre-cum. “Open wider.” You obey him and open your mouth further. He leans forward and spits in your mouth. Your eyes flutter and you press your thighs together, which doesn’t go unnoticed. “You like that?” He laughs and rubs one of his fingers over your tongue. “You like it when I spit in your mouth? Fucking disgusting.” He grips his cock and guides it onto your tongue before pushing into your mouth. He groans and holds your head back against the side of his bed before he starts thrusting into your mouth. “Mmm, fuck. Such a good girl with a slutty little mouth. What would your friends say if they knew you’re getting face fucked by your stepbrother, and loving it so much you’re practically dripping onto the floor? What would your mom say?” You really didn’t wanna think about his second question.

“Mmm.” You just hum around his cock in response and he smirked. It’s not like you could actually respond. You kept your eyes on him, loving the way his jaw tightened when he hit the back of your throat. Or the way the muscles in his arms would twitch and flex under his tight shirt. He was right, you did love this and you could feel the discomfort of your sticky panties between your thighs, damp and uncomfortable. His hand went to the top of your head to grip your hair between his fingers and he started pushing in faster.

“Mmh, oh fuck… love sucking on your big brothers cock, yeah? Such a fucking cockwhore it doesn’t matter who it’s from.” He was thrusting at a fervent pace and it was evident he was just chasing his own high. Using your mouth as his personal fleshlight to fuck and fill. It was hot being treated like this, especially by Leon. He tightened his hold on your hair and pushed in a little too far which made you choke. It made slick pour into the gusset of your panties. Fuck, he was right. You’re a total slut. Your hands went up to hold onto his thighs for support as your eyes closed. Spit drooled down your chin and onto your chest, tears poured down your cheeks which Leon took pleasure in wiping away. “Maybe next time you’ll let me fuck that pretty pussy. Bet she’s just crying for me, you are.” ‘Next time?’ The thought made your skin burn with arousal. “Think you’re gonna let me fill up all your holes. Fuck. Yeah, I wanna see that. My obedient little stepsister leaking cum onto my bed, absolutely spent. Such a fucking whore you’d probably ask me to do it again. Fuck your little pussy till it’s sloppy and bred.” 

He wasn’t even looking at you. His head tilted back and his hips stuttered. You could tell he was getting close.

“I’m gonna cum down this slutty throat and you’re gonna swallow it all and thank me.” His face and neck were a little red and he had this sheen of sweat that the light from his lamp bounced off of. He looked like some kind of angel and if he wasn’t aggressively fucking your face you might’ve actually believed he was. “Fuck, oh take it.” He moaned and pushed his cock to the back of your throat. You could feel his hot cum paint stripes into your mouth. He rutted his tip right against the back of your throat while he moaned and mumbled. “Good girl, good girl. Take it, baby.” He pulled back out of your mouth and looked down at you while he stroked himself a few times to make sure he was done. A little bit of cum spilled from his tip and onto your thigh. You could finally swallow now that he was out of your mouth and god it felt good. You opened your mouth to show him that you really did it.

“Thank you.” You smiled up at him softly and he shuddered at your words. He looked away from you and cursed as his face got red. He was just talking earlier; he didn't think you’d actually do it.

“Quit it, you’re gonna make me hard again.” He seemed a little embarrassed. He moved your hair out of your face and went to the bathroom across the hall. You heard water running for a bit and then he came back and kneeled in front of you. He silently used a warm rag to wipe away the dried tears from your face and the little bit of cum that spilled onto your chin. “There you go.” 

“Thank you.” He wiped away the bit that was on your thigh and you guys just stared at each other for a second. It wasn’t really awkward but more like each of you had something to say that you just wouldn’t. 

He leaned forward and kissed you. It was soft and sweet and you had plenty of room to move away if you didn’t want it. There was such a contrast from what you were doing now and what you had been doing, hell, how he was acting with you now and how he had always acted with you; it felt like it was short circuiting your brain, but in a good way. He pulled back and set the rag on his bedside table before picking you up and setting you on his bed. He crawled in next to you and put his arms around you. It felt a little weird but in a nice comforting way. It was something you really needed. You almost forgot that you had been sucking him off—if you could even call it that—like two minutes ago. You really weren’t tired but you laid there with him for who knows how long. 

Maybe you really didn’t hate having a stepbrother.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: hump day, wooooo.

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

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Strange how you never found comfort at home. Well, it never felt like one for you. You were always just a hanger-on. A burden. 

As you enter your grandma's house, you can't help but exhale the tension you've been holding in. She's in her chair, reading, not a word at your arrival. You go into the kitchen, set on eating the frozen meal you lost your appetite for the other night. 

You peel back the corner on the tray and shove it in the microwave. As you shut the door, you nearly wince at the unexpected figure in the doorway. You don't know if you're really surprised or if Andy has you jumpy. Both. 

"Want some coffee?" You offer your grandmother, hoping to appease her. "Tea?" 

She grumbles and waves you off, shuffling across the tile in her slippers. She crosses her arms and her lip sticks out, "nice of that man to come all the way down here like that." 

You turn your attention back to the countdown and shrug, "yeah." 

"He didn't need to just for all that. For you, did he?" She prompts. Her interest both irks and worries you. She never cared about anything. "And after losing his family." 

"Right, yeah, it's tough," you twiddle your fingers at your side. 

"Don't sound so heartbroken," she scoffs, "Christ, wasn't that boy you're friend?" 

You face her as the microwave beeps, "grandma..." you can't tell her. If she even bothered to listen, she wouldn't believe you. She doesn't even know Andy and she's already taking his side. Typical. "Yeah, I'm sad. Guess I'm a bit in shock." 

You turn back and take the too hot tray out, holding back a hiss at the singe in your fingertips. You spin and cross the kitchen to grab a fork. Your grandma huffs and putters after you.  

"He sent them flowers," she says. 

You stir the noodles and cheese, "he did." 

"Fancy. Expensive." 

You don't really get why she's still harping on. She didn't put so much mind to your prom or graduation or even when you got your job. Yet you can't be surprised where she's strayed; she's always been on you about money.  

"Seems to me he's a bit lost," she says, "you're..." she weighs her words before she speaks, something she rarely does, "maybe he's tryna find some direction. He might... might wanna take care of ya." 

"Huh?" You make a face and glance at her from the corner of you eye. 

"Like, I dunno, I watch those talk shows, grief is something nasty. I would know," she goes on. You can't remember the last time you heard her talk so much. "He only got-- had the one kid. You're about the same age... maybe he's tryna, I dunno, replace what he lost." 

You nearly laugh in her face. Really? This is what she cares about? You stare at her and furrow your nose. You could tell her. You could try. She's listening. For once.  

"I don't think... it's not... I'm not his responsibility and I don't wanna be." 

"You're barely your own responsibility," she sneers, "can't see a good thing in front of you." 

"Grandma--" 

"Well? Pretty sure there's more where those flowers came from," he tuts, "you got a few hard lessons to learn, girlie. 

You look down at the macaroni. You're not hungry anymore. You grab the tray and walk away. 

"Yeah, well, maybe you shoulda tried to teach me some, huh?" You toss over your shoulder and stomp out of the kitchen. 

You go into your room and kick your door shut. How is he doing this? How is everyone, even a woman who hasn't lived in reality for twenty years, on his side? 

You put the tray and fork down and go to the other side of the bed. You sit facing the window and drop your head into your hands. The only person you have is too far away. Besides, you don't want to drag her into this. Not any more than you already have. 

🎮

For once, you’re anxious to get to work. You welcome the distraction from everything else; debt, grandma, and the biggest problem of all, the one you won’t even name. You stroll up to the ice cream booth as Luis stands outside the window, chatting to Jessie as she stands at her vigil inside. You frown. You don’t see the manager often. Only when he hired you. 

“Ah, there she is,” Luis spots you and waves you over, “right on time.” 

As he checks his watch you pull out your phone. You’re early, like always. His presence is more than a coincidence. You have this ripply feeling in your stomach. You black your phone and cross your arms, hiding it under your elbow. 

“Hi, how’s everything going?” You ask as you approach the kiosk. 

“Everything’s great,” Luis smirks, “sunshine’s out, customers too.” 

You glance around. The picnic tables are mostly full. It is the perfect weather for a scoop. 

“Yeah, gonna be a busy shift,” you pander with a smile. 

“Hey,” Luis wags his finger as if remembering something, “before you start, let’s have a chat.” 

“Oh, alright,” you agree. 

He waves you away from the window as more customers approach. You follow him to one of the tables. You wait for him to sit before you do the same. He looks around from behind his black lenses and tilts to reach into his back pocket. He slides out his phone and brings it forward to cradle in both hands. 

“So uh, how are you liking it? The work?” He asks. 

You’re uneasy. You stare at his cell then look him in the face. 

“It’s good. Steady,” you answer as you keep your own phone in your lap. 

“Mhmm,” he hums and once more glances around, “look, this is never easy but I got a complaint--” 

You blink slowly. You’re not surprised. You figured it would happen. Still, you thought maybe Andy might be above that. Or anything at all. 

“Obviously, I take these things seriously. This business is all about customer service, especially with the Dairy Queen down the block,” he explains, “but I do try to give the benefit of the doubt. I checked the cameras.” He pauses for effect as you shrink down, “you closed the window.” 

You sigh and heave out a breath, “I did.” 

“You know we don’t do that,” he reprimands. 

“Sir, I know but... the customer... he wasn’t a customer. He’s... bothering me.” 

He pokes his tongue into his cheek and scratches his neck, “oh? Didn’t look like that type. When I spoke to him, he didn’t even seem upset. He just asked me to check in, really, but it’s not his shop. He don’t gotta worry about the bottom line. I do.” 

“It won’t happen again,” you wisp out. 

“I know it won’t,” he says. 

You sit, waiting for him to continue. He just stares at you. You shake your head. No. 

“Sorry, I gotta let you go.” 

“What? It’s my first complaint--” 

“This is an ice cream shop, how many of those do you think we get? Not very hard to keep the people happy so if you’re getting unhappy customers, well, that’s all I need to know.” 

“Please, Luis, I need this job--” 

“Shouldn’t have closed the window. I’m sorry. That’s the one rule.’ 

“God, I--” you huff and snarl, “whatever. Fine.” You stand and untie your apron, “get your bottom line.” 

You toss the apron on the table and swipe up your bag. You turn without waiting for another empty apology. Fuck. It’s shitty but hey, there’s always the DQ and now you have experience, right? 

🎮

You fill out an application for the Dairy Queen and a few other places. Your job hunt has been chronic as it is. It’s only that your search for a second gig, is now back to square one. You have only your last check coming to you before you’re digging into your meagre savings; the money meant for tuition. 

Your grandma is back to living in her novels. Good. You didn’t realise until before how much you preferred it. 

As you close yourself in your room, your phone vibrates. You look down at the message. It’s him. He’s been messaging, still thinking he might talk you into it. He is a lawyer but this isn’t his court. This is your life. 

How pathetic. A grown man meddling in the affairs of a nineteen-year-old. If you could let go of the catfishing, everything else has assured you of his character. You flop onto your bed and swipe away his texts. 

You wallow there for a while. In self-pity, in futility, in listlessness. You don’t know what to do. Everything is at a standstill. You have no job, you don’t know if you can pay for next semester, let alone the year, and you’re stuck in this deadbeat town. 

You put on a video to try to drown out the incessant anxiety. Today, you’re just going to let yourself sink. You can deal with everything tomorrow. You close your eyes and yawn, drifting into a haze that makes your head fuzzy. 

You’re roused by another vibe of your phone. You ignore it. He’s not going to get an answer. He can keep skirting around your blocks but you’re not wasting your energy. You’ve told him enough times to leave you alone. He has to get bored eventually. 

You roll over and bury your head in the pillow. You hear your grandma clunking around in the kitchen. You hate this place. You hate your life. The more you think about it, you can’t deny how horrible it really is, especially in the shadow of your dwindling future. 

What did you do to deserve this? You’re a good person. At least, you’ve always tried to be. It feels like a lot of karma for that Twizzler you stole when you were eight. 

Your grandmother keeps up the racket and your phone keeps on buzzing. You flip over and sit up. You snatch up the phone and stop yourself from flicking your thumb sideways. It isn’t him. It’s Kara. You never did call her back. 

You answer and put her on speaker, “hey, sup?”  

“Hey,” her voice is shaky, “uh, I don’t know.” 

“What?” You sit up straighter, “is everything--” your voice trails off as you listen to the commotion on her end; chatter you can’t make out, movement obscured through the speaker, “what do you mean you don’t know?” 

“The cops are here,” she murmurs, “I don’t know. They just showed up. Said they got a call from the landlord or something. Cause it’s the property owner, they can just come in or whatever. I don’t know, I don’t know...” Her voice quivers with panic, “me and Calvin were just hanging out...” 

“That’s... why would they--” 

“Shoot, I think...” she lowers her voice, “they must’ve found his stash. Shit, shit.” 

“Kara?” Your heart races as you try to keep track of what’s going. 

“Miss, can you please hang up the call? We need to question you,” a deep voice interjects. 

“One second, I’m just on the phone with--” 

“Miss, hang up or you’ll be charged with obstruction.” 

The line cuts and you gape at your phone. What the hell? You try to dial back, the call rolls through but doesn’t pick up. You try again and again. You get out of bed and pace, texting Kara helplessly. Shit, shit! How is this happening? Over what? A tiny dime bag? Everyone smokes, not that you’re the biggest fan. Too smelly for you. 

You put your hand to your forehead. What do you do? You can probably get a bus ticket. Even if you get to her, the bond is going to be way more than you can afford. You doubt you’ll even be able to scrape it together.  

Do you call her parents? No, they’d kill her, then she’d kill you. 

You shake as your legs turn to jello. You sit back down and close your eyes. Holy crap, this can’t be real.  

Your phone vibrates. It doesn’t stop. You look down at the incoming call. Unknown Caller. You’re not stupid. You know it’s him and his timing assures you he had something to do with this. This isn’t a coincidence. Those don’t exist. If there was any sort of luck in this world, you would have found some by now. 

“What?” You put the phone to your ear and snarl. 

“I can help your friend,” he says. 

You’re silent. You want to scream at him. You want to swear at him. You want to call him every nasty word you can. But this isn’t about you, not just you. You brought Kara into this mess, even if you never meant to. You won’t let her pay for your stupidity. 

“Meet me at Oxford and Maris. There’s a restaurant--” 

“Fine,” you snip and hang up. 

You lower your phone and shudder. He won. Given his career, he must be used to that. 

[meeludrawz]

New Rehab Program - Pt 4

A/N: Hey if you wanna get tagged, just tell me! Cuz life makes me update slow, rip

Warnings: Mention of blood, mention of you being badly injured, mention of death, also you hate the Twilight saga

During the next couple of days, Shigaraki was oddly 'clingy'. Not physically, but he was always following you around like a dog or cat.

You were watching tv? He was there, sitting on the lazyboy, playing on his phone while sometimes, looking at what you're watching too.

In the kitchen? He was there, sitting on the kitchen island, still doing his own thing though.

The only times he wouldn't follow was when you were in the bathroom, or your bedroom. During those moments, he'd stay in his room. WITH HIS DOOR OPENED. He never closed it now!!

You didn't really understand that sudden switch in him until you decided to examine his behaviour.

From what you had observed, he was clearly grateful to be freed from this collar. That was an easy guess though because the day when you removed it, you put it on the counter. Guess what? Next day there was only a pile of dust left there.

It made you smile, because in all honesty, you would never put it back around his neck. He wasn't a wild animal or caveman with rabies.

You quickly realized that, him following you around, was his own way of saying that he appreciated your presence. Though, knowing his personality, you knew he'd tell you the opposite.

He was still quite silent but at least he didn't ignore you when you asked or talked to him.

You were more than glad to see all this progress when all you did was being kind and patient to him. Even if there was still lots of work to do.

"She should dust them both" Shigaraki hissed at the tv.

You had been bored and had decided to rewatch Twilight. Tomura was still on his phone but he was clearly more focused on the movie. You didn't like this saga but you watched it to see his reaction, to see if he disliked the franchise like you. Was it some kind of therapy? Not really, it was more like bonding time. So far, his reactions were hilarious but you kept your laughs inside.

"Why does Jacob has screen time? He should be a background character only" The white haired man hissed again.

At this point, your show wasn't Twilight anymore but Tomura.

"Why does Jasper keeps staring like a fucking moron? I want to kill him." He went silent for a few seconds. "Is Bella a fucking zombie? She has no emotions" He growled before adding. "If she's a zombie, that would fucking explain why she smells weird to them"

Your laughs escaped your mouth without your consent but you couldn't stop them.

Shigaraki snapped his head in your direction and raised a brow. "Why are you laughing?"

"Sorry it's you- You're just funny, 'cause I agree with you" You wiped your eyes, sighing with a smile.

"Was this a therapy?" He growled in a very low and menacing voice.

"No, I was bored and thought it could be fun" You chuckled and shrugged. "I like judging that saga with my friends"

"I'm not your friend" Tomura frowned.

"Maybe, but it's still fun, right?" You smiled.

Tomura narrowed his eyes as he stared at you, probably trying to decipher how the gears in your brain worked.

After that, he stayed silent for the rest of the movie. Even if his mouth was shut, you could read his body language. He hated that movie and that was an amusing sight.

During the week, All Might, Eraser Head, Tsukauchi and some of your bosses showed up.

You were all sitting at the dining table. Shigaraki and All Might sitting at both ends, right in front of each other. As if they were kings of some kind. Well, Tomura was trying to look intimidating but All Might? He probably just took the first chair he spotted.

As a normal civil, you'd think that everyone was pissed at each other but as a therapist or as someone very observing, you knew how to decipher people. All Might was nervous, Eraser Head was on his guard, even if he hid it quite well, your superiors were angry, Tsukauchi was calm but intrigued while Shigaraki was fuming. He hated those people.

What about you? You were nervous, sitting there in the middle of this silent war. And also because you removed Tomura's collar without anyone's permission, oops. Oh and with the help of All Might on top of that….

Tsukauchi spoke first. "I will ask some questions to begin"

You nodded and dared a look in Shigaraki's direction, he was glaring at Tsukauchi. He knew he couldn't lie, because he knew the cop's quirk and that must be pissing him off.

"Have you two been manipulated to remove his collar?" The officer clicked his pen, turning to you and All Might.

"No" You and All Might shook your heads and Tsukauchi wrote something down before turning to the 'ex-criminal'.

"Have you manipulated them?"

It took a few seconds before Tomura only shook his head, clearly pouting at the officer's quirk. Tsukauchi could detect lies.

"Were you trying to hurt your therapist before your collar reacted?"

"Yes" The white haired man narrowed his crimson eyes.

Tsukauchi didn't seem surprised. "Why?"

"Because they were pissing me off"

Ha, yes, Tomura's famous excuse over anything really.

The inspector noted something before turning back to you. "Has he tried again?"

You shook your head.

Tsukauchi nodded before looking at your superiors, telling them that his part was done.

One of your employers sat down in front of you with a menacing frown. "Now, why did you remove his collar? Do you know the risks?"

Ah, there it was. The one million dollar question. You gulped as you felt everyone's eyes on you but not Tomura's. He was glaring at your superior. But why? Wasn't he interested into what you were about to say?

"Because it's inhuman, because he is NOT a wild animal with rabies. He is NOT a do who has to be put on a leash. He is HUMAN. No one should treat a human like this, it's unfair and cruel. Sure he probably did-"

"Nah, I never put a fucking collar on anyone. I just used handcuffs on that young brat and even removed it from him before he fucking decided to attack me."

"We're not talking to you, Shigaraki" Eraser Head frowned at the man.

Shigaraki only raised both his hands in a 'defensive' way and scoffed.

You decided to continue.

"Yes I know the risks. He can be dangerous, he has free will, like any of us. But I strongly believe that for example, forcing someone to eat when they don't want to is a very bad idea. Just like how you guys forced him into this therapy and forced him to wear the collar."

Everyone stayed silent as they registered what you said.

Oh fuck-

Maybe you spoke too much?

But before you could worry, a huge hand was softly put on your shoulder, All Might was smiling at you with pride and comfort in his eyes.

He was probably thinking that you were the perfect therapist for Tomura. That choosing you was the right choice.

You had only under 5 years of experience and yet, people liked you because you made the therapies different. And for some reason that you ignored, people had started talking about you and it had eventually landed in All Might's ears.

So when he showed up at your workplace, you were speechless. He had asked you, THE symbol of peace, had asked you to help him.

That day, you led him to your office, thinking that he needed therapy. He wasn't there for himself, but for Tomura Shigaraki.

At first, you honestly couldn't understand why he wanted to save the 'apprentice' of his now deceased, arch nemesis. Well no, All Might was known to help countless of people no matter who they were. But then he had revealed you something intriguing. Nana Shimura. Tomura's biological grandmother. Who was no other than All Might's mentor.

Again, you were speechless so you had let him continue. The way he spoke about her, she was a mother figure to him. It clicked in your mind. He wanted to save Tomura because he was family to him, because he felt a mountain of guilt on his shoulders for not being able to be there for the ex-villain.

Frankly, you weren't supposed to let your feelings decide as a therapist but this case touched your heart. You wanted to help. But also, if a criminal as bad as Shigaraki was open to get into therapy, wouldn't that mean he wasn't as bad as we think? Plus, that meant you could help fixing society, right?

You sighed with a smile and glanced at the white haired man.

The villain was staring at you as if you had just confessed that you were an alien sent on Earth.

You chuckled. How great would that be? No more crimes. Just peace and happiness. Sure it probably sounded like an impossible dream but hey, if you could save THE Tomura Shigaraki, you would be saving thousands of people, right?

Your superiors and the Pro Heroes discussed together about this whole 'collar removed' situation.

They weren't really happy with this but the heroes (mostly All Might), had taken your side. You were quite surprised that Eraser Head and Tsukauchi seemed to believe in you too. Again, hella surprising, but much appreciated.

You watched them leave with their cars as you stood in the doorway. Once they were away, you walked back inside and closed the door.

Tomura was still sitting at the table, staring at nothing.

"Are-" You remembered that he disliked being asked if he was okay. "Tomura? You're staring into the void"

He didn't react.

Hm, what could you do?

Ah right! He was obsessed with video games, from what you observed. Hell, you didn't even need to be a therapist to find that out. You decided to speak his 'language'.

"If you keep doing this, you'll start glitching and crash the game"

Tomura finally glanced at you with a scoff. You smiled, happy to see that it worked.

"Never been this close to Eraser Head.." He mumbled.

"Are you a fan?" You genuinely asked.

Shigaraki's face scrunched up as he frowned. "No"

You nodded, you weren't going to ask more so you only headed to the living room.

And just like the past few days, he followed a few seconds later. He plopped on the couch and grabbed his phone while you turned your favorite console on. You picked a new game.

After an hour, you weren't far into it but it had piqued Tomura's curiosity as he often looked up at the TV screen. You were struggling with a boss.

"Don't"

You didn't listen, you were stubborn when you had an idea.

"Dodge! Just- Damn it! What the hell are you doing??"

"I AM dodging!" You replied back.

"No you're not, hand me that!" He leaned towards you and reached for the controller. But you stubbornly refused and stretched both arms away from him, while still holding it.

Did you forget that he was also stubborn? Yes, yes you did. He almost climbed on top of you to snatch the god damn controller.

"Tomura! I can do it on my own! Go away!" You tried pushing him back to his place with your foot but as you both stretched further to keep, (or grab) the controller, you dropped it on the floor.

"HA! Dibs!" The white haired man jumped off the couch to snatch it.

"No!" You quickly grabbed his shirt and he fell on you.

It hurt, you both groaned then immediately froze when you realized, with wide eyes, how close your faces were from each other. You both stared at the other for what seemed like an eternity. He leaned his face closer and closer until your lips were just an inch away. You were short circuiting and shut your eyes hard, panicking a little.

Suddenly his weight was gone.

You opened your eyes, letting out a breath that you'd been holding. Your heart was also pounding, ready to break your ribcage while Tomura was sitting on the floor, in front of the tv, like nothing happened. He didn't seem to give a shit either because he had snatched the controller when you closed your eyes.

But- What happened?

Your cheeks were red and you felt like the room had suddenly become warmer.

Seriously- What the fuck just happened??

Blood

Everywhere

All around you

Shigaraki was holding you tightly against him, screaming in rage and agony. But why?

It was your blood

Your stomach had been shot and you were unconscious… Or dead? In his arms.

He was in pain too, but not physically. He only had small scratches. But his heart? It felt like someone had stabbed it

The young man closed his eyes as he cried. But why was he crying?

And when he reopened his eyes to look at you, the first thing he saw was his pillow that he was clutching against him. It quickly vanished into dust so the villain sat up, confusedly looking around. He was in his bed, right next to his gaming desk. He was back home, but how? Oh right, a dream. The white haired man glanced at the dust on his bed. He didn't care about his pillow right now.

He stood up, Tomura couldn't understand that weird dream. Why was his heart pounding in his chest? Why was his eyes felt itchy? He didn't like you. Did he? No, no he didn't. It was just a stupid dream. Maybe it was that weird werewolf vampire saga that messed up his brain, nothing else.

And yet, even if it was 2 am, he instinctively walked to your doorway. It was never closed for some reason, so he looked at your silhouette sleeping softly.

The bloodied scene came back to his mind and his heart restarted to ache. He couldn't understand, you were there, safe and sound. Sleeping peacefully. Nothing bad happened to you.

He decided to go back to sleep, but first, he needed to clean his bed.

Why did he needed to check up on you? It was only a dream so of course you were fine. His feelings were dumb, he frowned.

What the fuck did you do to him?

A/N: OOOOOOOH THE FEELINGS HAVE STARTED TO SHOW HEHEHE >:3

Pt 3

Pt 5

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

One For The Road [1]

Cecil Dennis x AFAB!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals• masterlist • ao3• want to be tagged? • request info • ko-fi •

Series Masterlist

Summary: Cecil forgets he invited you over.

A/N: The biggest thank you to @thexsanctuaryx for beta reading this and fixing some of my British-isms <3 I owe you my life!

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, mentions of weed, weed use, fleshlights, Cecil talking about 'Catcher In The Rye', fingering, Cecil coming in his pants, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 3404

You Sit and Talk to Me on the Floor

You lean back against the sofa, getting comfortable as your high pleasantly buzzes in the back of your head.

You’d been pretty pissed when you’d got here and Harry was nowhere to be found. (You, him and Cecil and Harry’s new girlfriend Mary-Ann, who you hadn’t met yet, had plans to hang out and watch a film. Or at least that’s what Cecil had told you.) He’d grinned when he’d opened the door, “What are you doing here?”

Turns out he’d been high (unsurprising) when he’d messaged and asked you. And had promptly forgotten all about it without letting Harry or Mary-Ann know. 

And now Harry was ‘working’. Or something. Cecil wasn’t exactly clear. 

Ever since he’d been dumped by his girlfriend Cecil had been staying with his cousin to ‘get back on his feet’, or more correctly, ‘make a mess, panic, tidy the house in a crazy rush to a standard that would put a professional kitchen to shame and then repeat’. 

He’d apologised for a good fifteen minutes when he realised his mistake, and had offered you a brownie as he ushered you inside. 

“Is there weed in this?” 

He stared at you like you’d grown an extra head. “It’s a brownie.”

“You know pot isn’t a standard ingredient, right?”

He’d pulled a face that made you laugh. “What’s the point in that?” 

.

Cecil sits on the floor, leaning against the sofa and lolling his head back as he talks to you, “I’m really glad you came actually, sorry again,” he smiles shyly, “I was kinda lonely.”

“You can hire people for that.” You tease and he snorts.

“No, that’s not what I mean. Besides,” he shrugs, “I’m broke.” 

You giggle, finding it far funnier than you normally would. 

He grins and takes a swig of his beer before another hit from his bong. 

“How many brownies did you have?” You ask, interested, you’d only had one. 

“Two… and a half.” 

“And you’re smoking too?” 

“Yeah? I mean,” he puffs up his chest proudly, “I got a high tolerance.”

“If there were an olympics in getting high you’d probably get a gold.” 

“I definitely would get a gold, I bet they used to have that, weed consuming, in the olympics I mean. They used to have poetry and people competing naked and everything, and then it got ruined.” 

“With clothes or lack of poems?” You smile.

“Both.” He nods confidently. “Though maybe some clothes is a good idea…” He ponders for a moment, “I bet if you run and you got no pants on your dick just,” he flops his hand around like crazy and you giggle, “I mean, that would hurt. And boobs!”

“Boobs?” You wheeze out. 

“Yeah, I bet some boobs would hurt too, you need those high impact bras and all that.”

“How do you know about that?” You run your hand through his hair absentmindedly, he always did have such soft, rich curls. 

“I’m a guy of knowledge, you know. I know many things.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

“Like what then?” 

He leans a little into your touch, smiling as you stroke his hair. “Erm, I know that this,” he taps the part of the sofa he’s leaning against, “is called a sofa skirt.” 

“Is not.”

“Is too.” He grins at you when you poke out your tongue. “I know the sky’s blue because of Rayleigh scattering-”

“What’s Rayleigh scattering?” 

“Why the sky is blue.”

“Cecil…” You roll your eyes playfully and he giggles. 

“Okay, okay, it’s to do with light particles and how they,” he waves his hand to the side making a buzzing noise, “move about when they’re in a wavelength.”

“How do you know that?”

He shrugs, “I dunno. Just do. Something stuck once I guess.”

You nod, “Pretty impressive skill.”

“Nah,” he shakes his head, “I don’t control what sticks, I’ve literally read every single math book I ever could on how to do algebra when I was in high school and nothing.” He pauses and then smiles, “I can quote Catcher in the Rye to you though.” 

“What?” You shift a little, leaning closer. “Like the whole thing?”

“Mostly,” he shrugs again but he puffs his chest out, obviously pleased at your interest. “But I guess I could just be making it up if you don’t know it word for word and don’t have a copy in front of you.” 

“I trust you.” You say kindly and he beams. 

“Well, okay, look, first paragraph, because it’s easy,” he swallows and clears his throat. 

“If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.” He puts on a voice as he speaks, at first it’s jokey as he tries to poke a little fun at himself, but as he continues it relaxes, becomes more like he’s inhabiting the voice of the character. 

“That’s very, very cool.” You grin and he smiles shyly, looking down at his hands before taking another hit. “Yeah, well, doesn’t help much.”

“You like Catcher in the Rye?” 

He nods. “Got an A+ on that report.” He grins, “I always thought it was sad, you know? The story I mean. Just a kid trying to be an adult because that’s what society implies, when really he just wants to be… you know… enjoy his childhood.” He nods a little. “I like that his little sister is more mature than him, that he has this innocence to him. That even though the story is about a loss of that, in the end, I dunno, I don’t think it fully happened.” 

You incline your head, staying quiet so he’ll continue.

“I mean, I think he’s still innocent. Still playing at being an adult. Like everyone is.” He shrugs, shaking his head. “But whatever.” 

You give his shoulder a light shove, “But whatever? Cec,” you lean forward, your hand still in his hair, “that’s so good, like insightful.” You say sincerely. 

He gives you a bashful smile, his eyelashes fluttering a little as you compliment him. “Yeah, you know, thanks.” There’s the smallest flush to his cheeks. “You’re so smart and everything so that means a lot.” 

“Cec,” you say softly, shaking your head, “you gotta think better of yourself.”

He nods halfheartedly.

“Really, you got to, you…” You pause, trailing off as something catches the light and inadvertently, your eye. It’s shoved to the side, on the floor between the right hand side of the sofa and the wall. 

Cecil looks around to where you’re staring, mildly interested for a moment before his eyes widen. “Oh, shit, sorry!” He goes to push it further under the couch and out of sight but doesn’t reach far enough and ends up falling onto his side and flailing about. 

“Is that what I think it is?” You giggle, unable to stop yourself. 

“Erm…” He looks up at you, trying his best to give you a winning smile from the floor. “That depends on what you think it is?” His voice is hopeful. 

“A flesh light?” 

He groans and puts his hand dramatically over his face. 

You laugh harder. 

“Ugh.”

“It is?” You ask excitedly, unsure why this is amusing you quite so much. 

“Mhmmm.” 

“Yours?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh my goooooood,” you lean down and ruffle his hair until he has to take his hand off his face to bat you away and starts laughing, “Cecil getting it on in the living rooooooom.” 

“No!” He lies.

“Ohhhhh, is that what you were doing before I got here?” The glee in your voice is palpable. “Is that why it took you so long to answer the door?” 

“Stop.” He tries to pout but keeps laughing. “I hadn’t got that far yet.”

“Yet?” 

“You came over! That’s more important than jacking off.” 

You snort loudly. “I’m honoured.” 

He pulls a playful face and lightly smacks your calf. 

“I wouldn’t have stopped having a wank just because you came over.” You joke and Cecil bursts into hysterics. 

He manages to calm down long enough to spit out his next words, “I wouldn’t ask you to stop.” 

“What?” 

“If you wanted to get down and whatever, that’s fine, I’d just hang in the kitchen.” 

It’s your turn to have a laughing fit. “Oh, you’re so slimy.” You tease, adjusting your skirt as you move.

“No, no,” he sits up, still giggling, his cheeks flush. “I wouldn’t watch or listen, I’m not being a perv.” 

“Sure, sure.” 

“Hey! I don’t need to spy on people, I can, you know.”

“What?” You grin.

“See it on the TV whenever.” 

You start laughing again. You had been expecting a bit of macho, ‘I can pick up willing partners whenever I want to’, not ‘I’ll watch some porn’. 

“Yeah?” You prod him in the arm playfully. 

“Yeah.” He nods, “that’s what I was doing before you came over.” 

“Oh, good to know.” You chuckle. Part of you knows it’s the weed that’s making you a little less guarded than you usually were, but you can’t help yourself. “What were you watching then?”

“Well, I hadn’t decided yet.” He shrugs, but he’s grinning, obviously quite happy to talk with you about this. “I was having a look.” 

“On what?” 

“PornHub,” he shuffles towards the TV on his knees and grabs the remote and then his phone. “I cast it, see,” the screen mirrors his phone as he scrolls through. “I was just browsing.” 

“You say that so casually.” You goad him playfully. 

“Yeah, well, I mean why not? Most people look at porn.” 

You nod.

“Don’t you?” He asks, quite innocently as he cocks his head to the side. 

Heat rushes under your skin. “Well, erm, yeah, I mean.” 

He grins, but not in a gloating way, more pleased that you’re both sharing something. 

“What, erm,” you squirm a little, feeling foolish and trying to push the focus back to him. “What do you normally watch?” 

“Like porn wise?” 

“Mmhmmm.” 

He grins, “lots actually, my tastes are very varied.” He says like he’s talking about wine. “Sometimes two girls, sometimes a guy and a girl, sometimes two guys, sometimes a group. Sometimes just someone by themselves.” He shrugs and looks up at you, when he sees you’re still listening he swallows and continues, “I got a favourite.” 

You nod, your mouth dry. 

“It’s two girls, erm, it’s not even like, that,” he waves his hands, “it’s just, it’s quieter, I guess? They sound more… natural. Like it’s not being put on for show, and they got like, these suits. It’s not like latex or anything, not that there’s a problem with that, it’s sort of like body suits, skin tight, but hands are free, and boobs, and,” he motions to his crotch, “down there, and… they sort of… like just…” his face reddens a little more. “They, rub together in like missionary and come and… and it just sounds so nice. They look like they’re really enjoying it.” 

He looks up at you again and fidgets, his eyes dark. 

The nervous expression, the flush to his cheeks shouldn’t be endearing, shouldn’t make you feel a twist of heat in your stomach. 

“I could… show you?” He says quietly, like he’s trying to tiptoe around something else. 

You find yourself nodding once, saying, “Okay.” before you even realise it. 

He finds it quickly on his phone and sits down next to you on the sofa, a hands width away. 

You stare at the TV while looking at him from the corner of your eye. 

“This reminds me of high school.” He says quietly, biting his lips together. “A group of us used to, when porn was harder to get hold of, used to like, watch it together and smoke.” 

You nod, a quick reply simply not coming. 

The video starts, the two women posing for the camera before they make their way to the bed.

“I used to worry,” he continues, “because sometimes weed makes me really horny.” He shrugs, flinching inwardly at why he said that. 

“I get that.” You swallow. 

One woman climbs on top of the other. 

“You do?” He asks. 

“Yeah,” why are you speaking, why can’t you just shut up? “The horny thing.” 

“From smoking or watching porn?” He asks innocently. 

“Both, I guess.” 

He hums, nodding. “Me too.” 

You both continue to watch for a moment in an odd silence, the air is thick with an oppressive weight. You want to look at him again, want to see his soft eyes and plump lips. 

Cecil shifts a little, fidgeting once before he pushes the heel of his hand against his leg and… wait… not his leg. 

His erection is straining against his jeans.

You can’t help but look, going over the shape and outline and- You freeze. He’s looking right at you.

“Sorry.” He gives you a sheepish smile as if he was the one that had been caught perving. “Guess it’s a bit more obvious on me.” He jokes, but the tips of his ears still flush. 

“No, yeah, I mean…” you stumble over your words, trying to fill the gaps as the moans from the TV grow louder and… they did sound like they were having fun. “I mean,” you swallow and start again, “I, if I had a dick, you’d see it,” you motion your hand upright. 

“Yeah?”

You nod. 

“Not just saying that to make me feel better?” He asks, gently nudging you in the shoulder.

“No… I would.” 

He gives you a sweet look, but it’s still disbelieving. 

“Cecil, I’m not lying.” 

“I don’t know…” 

“Why would I lie?”

“You’re too nice all the time, it’s not lying it’s ‘sparing my feelings’.” He motions with his hands.

“Well, I’m not,” you fold your arms. “I’m being truthful.”

“Okay.”

“Cecil.”

“I said okay,” he teases. “I’m agreeing with you.”

“But you don’t believe me.” 

He nods. “That’s true.”

You huff air through your nose, exasperated. “I’m not lying.”

“Sure.”

“There’s no point to me lying.” Your voice raises a little at the end, which only makes it sound more like you are lying. 

“Okay.” 

“Oh, fuck you.” 

He laughs, “just because you’re a dirty and bad liar, doesn’t mean-”

You don’t know why you do it, but you grab a hold of his hand and press it forcefully between your legs. “See?” Your voice sounds sure of itself, like a gloat. But your mind is just only catching up with your actions. And the sensation of Cecil’s warm, thick fingers against your core. 

You’re wearing a skirt, the only thing separating your skin from his is the thin material of your panties which are undoubtedly damp. 

“Oh,” he breathes, his cock twitches. “Yeah, you’re…” 

You freeze, still holding his hand against you. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

His fingers brush a little against the cotton. The action takes you by surprise and much to your dismay a weak gasp leaves your lips.

He glances up to your face as you keep your eyes closed, screwing them shut to avoid his gaze. But seemingly he finds what he was looking for. 

He moves his fingers again, a little firmer this time, tracing a soft circle against your clit and you shudder. 

There’s a pause, a fraction of a second as he waits for you to stop him, to tell him no. 

You don’t. 

So he does it again, and again, and again until you’re squirming. Your breath is coming out fast as your hips shallowly move in time with his fingers. 

He inches closer to you, pressing his chest against your shoulder and resting his forehead on your temple. 

Cecil moans softly in your ear as you whine, your lip between your bottom teeth as you watch the two women fuck on screen without really seeing. 

He slowly presses on the damp patch, rubs along your core before he slips your underwear to the side and touches you lightly. 

You jolt, gasping, turning your head to press your forehead to his. 

He groans as he traces his forefinger along your slit, marvelling at the slick that coats the tip of his finger before he lightly pinches your clit. 

“Cecil,” you breathe. 

“It’s okay,” he mutters, kissing your cheek and then your lips gently, “it’s okay, it’s just a friend helping another one out. Just helping…” He drapes his free arm around your shoulders, his fingers mirroring the pattern of his other hand on your arm. 

He kisses you again, soft and sweet as he lightly teases you with the tip of his tongue. 

The second you part your lips he inhales deeply, angling his hand and pushing two fingers deep inside while flicking your clit with his thumb. 

You gasp, your moans music to his ears as he kisses you wantonly as he curls and strokes your walls. 

“Oh, god, you’re really wet,” he bites his lip, grunting as he presses closer, curls deeper until you’re bucking and practically sobbing. “Really tight, mmm, feel so nice inside.” He mumbles, not really registering what he’s saying as he pants in your ear. “Thank you for letting me, oh,” he shivers as you whine, grabbing hold of any part of him you can reach and clinging on, silently begging him to continue.

“Is that good? Is that where it’s nice?” He swallows, stroking the same spongy spot again and groaning when your thighs quiver. 

You nod rapidly and he coos, “oh good, good, mmm,” he kisses your neck, breathing deeply to fill his lungs with your scent. “God, so nice and warm, bet you got the cutest little pussy? Fuck.” He groans, moving so he can rub his crotch against your thigh, “you’ll let me look sometime? I would love to see it, bet it’s so sweet.” 

Your eyes roll back, your muscles tensing as he keeps moving, keeps pulling you closer to that edge. Your moans are overshadowing the sounds of the TV, the squelch of his fingers fucking you relentlessly bouncing around the room. 

You can hardly think, hardly form words, your mind obsessed with the reaction that all consuming pleasure that is so, so near. 

“Bet it’s the prettiest pussy I’ll ever see,” he groans, the friction of his jeans burning deliciously against his cock as he rubs himself over your thigh, making him lightheaded. Being near you is making him lightheaded. The fact that you’ve let him touch you, and be in you is dizzying and those sounds you’re making are enough to make him come on the spot. Right now, so close. Just a tiny little more friction and-

You clench around his fingers, crying out as your orgasm is pulled expertly from you. Cecil whines, keeps moving his thick fingers in that blinding pattern and pressure, as he follows you instantly. Your blissed out expression driving him clean over the edge. 

You shiver, your thighs shaking as you come, as the pleasure seems to stretch onwards and as Cecil moans softly in your ear. 

You both breathe, Cecil’s fingers still inside you as you stroke a hand through his hair. A wet patch starts to bleed into his boxers, but he doesn’t care. Not when you’re so close and he feels so happy.

He opens his mouth to speak and-

There’s a key in the lock, and the front door opens. You both jump, moving away from each other to the opposite ends of the sofa as Harry comes back. 

You feel oddly empty without his touch, without his fingers buried inside. 

Harry pokes his head around before he comes into the room, he looks at the bong and beer and porn still playing on the TV. “You guys started the party without me?” He kids. 

You laugh, not entirely convincing. 

“Cecil, man, what’re you doing showing off your porn playlist huh?” Harry jokes and Cecil shrugs. 

He’s using his forearm to cover any signs of his softening erection and wet patch, while he dangles his other hand off the arm of the sofa, out of Harry’s sight. Where his cousin can’t see how he rubs his slick covered fingers together.

Thank you for reading!

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[awkward-tension-art]

Bacta and Bandages Chp.5 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 4. Chapter 6.

Blushing

CW: Slow burn, Two fools trying to ignore their crushes, Rex being cute, firing practice, target practice, Reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), reader is a doctor, if I miss a tag LMK!

Tag list (I am so happy people want to be tagged <3): @heavenseed76 @arctrooper69

Minors DNI

You had to be honest with yourself. 

Your aim sucked. 

As a field surgeon, you technically weren’t supposed to be anywhere near droids. Your main purpose was to stay behind the forces and perform surgery and intensive medical care to those with severe wounds.

Kix would be on the front lines and keep the injured alive as long as possible until he could get them to you. 

You could hit your targets, if they were big enough. Like a tank. Or if they were about 5 feet in front of you…

Ok, you couldn’t really hit your targets. You’ve been with the 501st for months now and you haven’t gotten any better. 

You debated going full clone trooper and just punching the droids. After all, the soldiers had just gotten proper armor for their hands. Maybe you could get a pair of armored gloves…

“Everything alright?” 

You perked up hearing the question from Rex, snapping your attention back to the present. You had zoned out, staring at the same datapad for several minutes now. 

Right, you had come to his office to help a supply crate mix-up. Someone hadn’t properly labeled the crates, so there were blasters mixed with medical supplies, and bandages mixed with armor…It was a mess. And to make sure nothing was missing, you and him were supposed to go over the numbers so no helmet or tube of bacta was out of place. 

You sighed, “Yea, just…thinking. That's all.”

The Captain raised a brow, silently encouraging you to continue.

Over your time with the 501st, you’ve been able to read Rex more than anyone else. You understood what he was thinking through his expressions. You could guess his feelings based on his stance and body language, even when he wore his helmet.

Perhaps it was your training as a doctor that allowed you to read him so easily. 

Or…maybe it was the growing affection you had for him.

It’s a passing crush, that's all. You told yourself, Clones aren’t allowed to have romantic relationships. This’ll pass. Don’t get your hopes up.

Shoving that thought out of your mind you put the datapad down, “I’m a terrible shot.”

Rex let out a soft and surprised chuckle at your blunt statement, “Well…you're technically not supposed to be.”

“No, I mean…even if I need to defend myself or the wounded…I miss almost every shot with a blaster.” You responded, “I’ve tried to practice but…I just can’t aim very well…”

He had a small smirk on his lips, “You can’t be worse than a clanker.” 

“I assure you, I am.” 

Rex laughed again, “I can teach you, if you want. Besides, I’m sure a break would be good for us both.” 

Your heart fluttered. 

“I’d like that.” 

Which is how you found yourself in the hangar, standing about 20 meters away from an empty crate with a painted target. There were scorch marks dotting the metal and yellow paint, indicating that you weren’t the first person to need aim training.

The makeshift target range was mostly out of the way and out of sight of everyone else in the hangar, offering some privacy.

“I didn’t know this was here.” You admitted, staring at the target. 

Rex shrugged, “Some shinies set this up. The General didn’t mind, so I kept it for anyone who wanted to practice their shooting.”

You nodded in understanding. Usually if something didn’t make sense, the answer was always ‘shinies’.

“Alright, now, pick up your blaster.” He took the tone of a commanding Captain. His arms were crossed as he watched you get your pistol ready. You wrapped your hands on your blaster, and got into the stance you were trained to be in. 

You didn’t even put your finger on the trigger before Rex spoke up, “Already, I see the issue.” he stepped towards you, putting his gloved hands over yours. He changed the position of your hold, moving one of your palms from the bottom of the grip to over your other hand. 

You blinked, “Oh, I was holding it wrong.” 

Rex had a relaxed smile, “It's a common mistake.” He stepped back and nodded, “Fire.” 

You pulled the trigger and the blaster kicked back as it fired. However, you managed to keep the gun relatively steady. Your shot missed the target, hitting the upper corner of the crate. With a sigh you looked over at the captain. 

He kept his arms crossed, “Focus on where you’re aiming. Where you look, that's where you’ll hit.”

With a steadying breath, you looked down the sights of your gun and pulled the trigger again. Your shot was closer to the target that time, however, still not a hit. 

“Better.” Rex approached again. This time, he got closer, putting his hands over yours and stepping behind you. You felt the plastoid of his chestplate on your back as he leaned into your body, “Raise the blaster a little higher and try again.”

Don’t get distracted. Don't get distracted. 

You swallowed and pulled the trigger. Again, your shot had gotten closer to the target, barely hitting the yellow of the first ring. Frustration hit you and you huffed. 

Rex laughed softly and it struck you how warm his laugh was. How lovely.

Stop it. Grow out of your crush, you're not some grade school student. You are a grown ass adult. Act like it.

“Just look at the target. Not the sights on the blaster.” The clone captain was rolling incredibly well with your failures. He kept his hold on you as you calmed your emotions to focus. You did as he told, staring at the bright yellow target meters in front of you.

With another breath, you fired. 

This time, you hit the target. Not a bullseye at all, but at least you hit inside the last yellow ring.

“Oh, hey I actually got it.” You perked up, smiling slightly. 

Rex, sadly, let go and stepped back, “Good, now do it again. I want to see you hit the target at least 4 more times.” He put his helmet on, crossing his arms to watch you. He was tense now.

You tried not to let his sudden shift in attitude bother you. He was probably worried that someone might turn the corner and see him so lax and uncaptain-like. Rex did have to be professional after all…

Still, you did miss the warmth he gave. 

Again, you pulled the trigger. Without him holding your gun steady, your shot veered slightly and hit the outermost ring, “That counts.” you stated, looking over to the clone. 

He nodded, “It counts. I’ll be nice this time. But just this once.”

You couldn’t hold back your grin and you shot again. Another hit. Still no bullseye, but you got closer. 

Hey, 3 for 3. One more.

Without getting over confident, you took a steadying breath and pulled the trigger. 

Again, no bullseye, but your shot landed inside the second ring. You were improving. Or this was just pure luck. Either way, you’ll take it.

You smiled and turned to look at Rex. He nodded in approval and stepped towards you, “Very good. You learn quickly. Better than most troopers who step off Kamino.” 

“Aw, you think I’m better than a shiny?” You joked, hoping to help him relax.

He huffed under his helmet, but you could hear the smile in his voice, “That’s not a high bar, Doctor.” 

“I’ll take the compliment, Captain.” 

He was about to respond when your and his coms both beeped. He answered his and you answered yours. 

“Doctor, there's a patient in the sick bay.”

“Captain Rex, you're needed at the command bridge.”

With a sigh, you shared a look with Rex and rolled your eyes. You gave him a grateful smile, “Back to work, then?” 

“It never ends.” He sighed, “If you want…if you want to practice again, just let me know.” 

Your answer was kind and sweet, “I will. Thank you, Rex.” 

As you parted ways, you tried to calm your beating heart. 

It's a crush. It's a crush. Grow up. Just grow up already!

Rex, on the other hand, kept his helmet on as he walked away, because he was certain he was still blushing like a damn cadet.

He’s a captain. Captains shouldn’t fucking blush!

[negans-lucille-tblr]

My Worthless Love || Part Five

Summary: At first, Dean can’t believe his luck that he gets to date a porn star, but soon the cracks start to show, and Dean gets to see a totally different side to the industry that bursts his bubble and leaves him torn. 

Rating: 18+

Part Tags: teasing, flirting, anxiety, mentions of drug use, misogyny, inappropriate groping, blowjobs, mentions of step father/daughter scenes, jealousy, angst

Part WC: 2250

My Worthless Love Masterlist || Read this fic in full when you subscribe!

“Jesus, you look good in that,” Dean can’t help but tell her as he watches Y/N fuss with the hem of the shorts she’s wearing. 

“I do? It’s okay?” she worries, turning herself around to check herself over in the mirror. 

Y/N’s makeshift dressing room is some kind of spare bedroom in the large house they’re renting for the shoot. Or maybe it’s someone’s actual home, Dean can’t be sure. Either way it’s ten times bigger than anything Dean’s ever stepped in before, and he can see why so many people decide to get into this kind of industry if this is the sort of money it can make you. 

“Sweetheart, if I wasn’t already jealous that some other guy gets you today, then I definitely am now.” Dean makes it no secret that his eyes have dropped to her ass, and Y/N rolls her eyes at him through her reflection, shaking her head. 

“You’re such a guy sometimes,” she complains with a soft smirk. But then it fades and she fusses with her shorts once more, clearly not happy with them. “I don’t know, I don’t think Marv will like them,” she stresses. 

“Who the fuck is Marv?” Dean asks, feeling insulted on her behalf that this Marv guy could have any kind of issue with how she looks in her outfit. 

“The director, so it’s pretty important he’s happy,” she explains. “I have shorter ones but they’re so uncomfortable.” 

“Those are fine,” Dean insists, watching her chew down on her bottom lip all the same, her eyes occasionally drifting over to the shorter pair draped on the back of the arm chair. 

“If Marv’s not happy then Dick won’t be happy,” she continues to fret, like she’s not even listening to Dean. 

“I’ll tell you whose dick is happy,” he tries to tease, just to lighten the mood. But Y/N shoots him a glare that this time isn’t so playful, and Dean realises she’s probably not in the right frame of mind to be cheered up by his juvenile attempts to wind her up. “Who’s Dick, anyway?” he asks next. 

“My agent,” she explains briefly. 

“Your agent is called Dick?” Dean can’t help but chuckle slightly. 

“Yep, and he’s true to his name, so I’d rather not upset him too.” 

Dean purses his lips, seeing how genuinely anxious Y/N seems to be to be letting anyone down, and he wonders what the ramifications would be for her if she did. Surely it would be nothing too serious, right? Probably just a slap on the wrist and told to do better? Not that Dean thinks Y/N is doing anything wrong, especially not when she’s only wearing a pair of shorts they might not love. It’s hardly a crime. 

A knock at the bedroom door breaks Dean’s thoughts, and someone is already walking in before they can be invited in. 

“Marv wants you on set,” Y/N is informed by some guy Dean’s not even seen before. “You’re wearing that?” 

“Is it okay?” Y/N chokes out, a shake in her voice. 

“That’s up to Marv, I guess,” the guy shrugs. “C’mon, we’re running behind.” 

Y/N takes a deep breath as the guy leaves, and she looks in the mirror one last time and tweaks her hair before rummaging in her purse. Dean hears the rustle of some kind of packet, and leans just enough to see her popping two pills out of a packet that Dean doesn’t recognise, grabbing her water and knocking them both back. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Dean checks. 

Y/N looks over her shoulder, confused for a second and then down at the packet in her hands, before quickly stuffing it back into her purse. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” she forces a smile at him and clears her throat. “C’mon, I don’t want to keep them waiting.” 

Dean follows Y/N quietly, still thinking about her taking whatever the hell she just took and why. What the hell is she expecting this guy to do to her? Does she have to be medicated just to do her job? That can’t be healthy. He wants to pry some more, probe her on what they are and why she takes them, but he knows now is not the time, and he doesn’t want to seem like he’s about to lecture her, she seems to be under enough pressure right now as it is. 

They get to set quicker than Dean had thought they would, and he stays where she tells him to, watching on silently as she heads towards the camera that’s set up, pointing towards a couch in a grand, large living room. 

“There you are,” some older guy grunts. Dean observes the man’s khaki cut offs and the oversized t-shirt that’s doing very little to disguise the obvious beer belly underneath it, the shine on the top of the man’s balding head is almost blinding. “You’re late,” he barks at her. “And you’re wearing that?” he huffs, clearly not impressed. 

“I just thought that–” 

“I don’t pay you to think, sweetheart, I pay you to fuck.” 

“Right, of course, it’s just I’m playing the step-daughter, right? And I figured–” 

But once again Y/N is cut off by the same guy. “I’m the director, I do the thinking,” he tells her condescendingly. 

“Of course, Marv, I’m sorry,” she relents, offering him a shaky smile. 

He huffs another deep breath and reaches out for her, grabbing at her thighs and the hem of her shorts. Y/N instantly looks uncomfortable, but she doesn’t say anything, and Dean doesn’t even notice that he’s clenched his hands into fists until his fingers begin to tingle. 

“Can you at least make them shorter?” Marv grunts, fussing with her shorts as he tries to do just that. Suddenly, some other guy is at her side, also doing the same thing, and Y/N lets herself get tugged around as they deal with the supposed issue. 

Dean has to fight everything inside him not to go over there and whisk her away, but eventually both of them step back, and begin to talk to one another like she’s not even there. 

“It’ll do I guess, we can just make sure she takes them off earlier in the script,” the other guy offers as a solution. 

“What panties are you wearing?” Marv barks at her. 

“Lace thong like you told me,” she replies, suddenly looking worried that she’s got that wrong too. 

“Fine. We can’t waste any more time,” Marv insists. “Go take your place.” 

Dean watches as Y/N obediently does what she’s told, making her way over to the couch and climbing onto it, letting some guy approach her to tweak her clothing and hair. From the little Dean knows about normal movie and tv sets, he assumes that usually, these things are taken care of by the make-up artists or stylists or something, not some random guy that seems to be just taking advantage of the free grope. Either way, Y/N doesn’t complain, and she clears her throat and picks up the TV remote beside her, playing with it quietly as she waits. 

“Where’s Nick?” Someone calls out, and people start looking around the set, some glancing over at Dean. 

“I’m coming,” Dean hears someone call from behind him and turns his head to see some older guy approaching. 

He’s not quite as tragic as poor Marv, he’s clearly many years older than Y/N, but he seems well kept. Dean assumes Nick is the other star of this show, especially after Y/N had briefly explained the plot of the scene being one of those classic step father seducing his new step daughter type ones. Apparently, she gets cast for a lot of those because she looks young and innocent enough. 

“You,” Nick barks, pointing right at Dean. “I’ll have a double espresso and a blueberry muffin, but make sure it’s gluten free, don’t wanna bloat on camera.” 

Dean frowns for a second, before realising the actor’s mistake. “I’m not… urm… I don’t work here.” 

“You don’t?” Nick frowns, crossing his arms over his chest, confused by Dean’s comment. 

“I’m… I’m Y/N’s boyfriend,” he explains. 

“Who?”

“Y/N… the urm…” Dean gestures towards her on the couch and Nick looks and his eyes widen. 

“Oh, that’s her name,” he nods. “Not worked with her before, but damn been looking forward to it,” he grins at Dean. “Y’know, she’d be a big name if she took some of those things off her limits list.” 

Dean’s almost relieved to hear that Y/N even has a limits list, but then is instantly pissed off with this guy for suggesting she compromises on her boundaries for a job that is clearly already sucking the life out of her.

“You should talk to her about that, get her to lighten up,” Nick adds with a smug grin. Dean forces a smile, but doesn’t trust himself to reply verbally, so he just nods his head. “Anyways, anything I should know about your girl? Anything that drives her crazy?” he blinks. Dean’s dumbfounded by the question, so much so he doesn’t even know how to answer. “You know what, dude? Don’t sweat it, I’m sure I’ll figure it out, these sluts are all the same.” 

As Nick saunters off towards the set, Dean clenches his jaw. “She’s gonna fake it anyway,” he mutters to himself, glaring at Nick’s back and wishing that he didn’t have to go anywhere near Y/N. 

If Dean had been uncomfortable with random men groping Y/N before she even made it on set, or with Nick talking about her the way he did, then he’s even more uncomfortable watching Y/N’s hair wind around Nick’s fist as she kneels at his feet and starts to suck his cock. He’s seen her do this to other men plenty of times before, but it’s so different seeing it on a computer screen as opposed to right there in front of him with his own two eyes. There’s a camera man standing practically directly over them, but Dean also has a second view from the viewing screen that Marv is watching intently. And Dean’s fairly sure Y/N isn’t enjoying it, because he can see from the look in her eyes as she looks up at Nick that it’s not the same expression she’s ever given him. That fills him with a little comfort – at least until he considers the fact that that means that she isn’t enjoying herself. 

It’s a bittersweet thought to Dean, that he can’t quite get his head around. In some ways, it’s a good stroke to his ego that she’s clearly not enjoying herself with this guy like she does with him, and it only confirms what she and Sam have been reassuring him that porn is fake, and that at least when she’s with Dean, she’s authentic and it’s real between them. But then on the other side of that coin, it means that she’s putting herself through something so degrading and dehumanising, taking god knows what just to see it through, and she doesn’t even get anything good out of it except an apartment that’s a little nicer than Dean’s. There has to be more to her decision to do this job than just money. 

“You’re killing me, sweetheart!” Marv shouts out, and Dean realises that Y/N is pulling away, reaching up to wipe drool from her chin as she coughs and splutters, turning her face away from the camera. “What the fuck is wrong with you today?” 

“Sorry,” she chokes out. “I’ll keep going,” she confirms, resettling back into her original position. 

As she begins again, Marv groans in exasperation. “At least pretend you’re enjoying yourself!” he shouts out. Y/N grows a little more enthusiastic, but the message clearly hasn’t been delivered to her face, because there’s not even a hint of a smile on her features. 

That’s when Marv glances over his shoulder, his eyes falling on Dean, and he pulls another guy to one side and whispers something to him. The guy approaches Dean now, and Dean wonders what the hell is going on as Y/N still tries her best to put on a performance in the background. 

“You need to leave.” 

“Leave?” Dean frowns. “I’m not doing anything,” he argues. 

“You’re putting her off. Get out of here.” 

Dean wants to protest some more, glancing over the guy’s shoulder towards Y/N who is concentrating on her work. He doesn’t want to cause any further problems for her, and she definitely isn’t as on the ball as she’s seemed in the movies he’s seen before. Maybe him being here is an issue. But he also doesn’t want to leave her alone with a room of what he can only describe as asshole perverts. 

“I should stay,” he concludes. 

“You should go, or you’ll be taking your girlfriend with you. Marv is losing his patience with her.” 

Dean takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to be the reason she loses her job. With one last glance in her direction to be sure she’ll be okay, he clenches his jaw and turns on his heels, already worried he’s making a mistake.

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[pensat-i-fet]

I chose you (Julián Álvarez x Reader)

**Got another Julián request recently and it’s always funny how easy it is to write for him. So hopefully it’s easy and enjoyable to read for all of you ❤️**

Word count: 1879

Masterlist

Wattpad

“Are you ok?”, asks my mum, and I can see the worry in her expression even through the screen.

“Yeah. Just not feeling 100% at the moment, you know?”

“Why? Are you sick or something?”

“No. I guess I’m just going through one of those moments where I don’t feel super confident or whatever. No specific reason. For all I know, it could just be the bad weather making me feel this way”.

“Is everything ok with Julián?”

I smile without even noticing. “Yes, mum. It’s nothing to do with him”.

“Well, I’ll still tell him to take better care of you so you don’t feel this way”.

“Mum, I’m a grown woman. I don’t need my boyfriend to take care of me”.

“We all need people to take care of us. Don’t forget that”.

I don’t want to admit it but I know she’s right. I’m always in my own head, not sharing how I feel and it can be a bit much sometimes.

“I’ll talk to Julián when he comes back”, I promise to myself before picking up my phone to waste my time on social media.

I see City have posted some photos, including one of Julián, so I like the post. Then I click on his profile and go to the tagged photos. I always love seeing all the photos of him that professional photographers take. I have an album full of them.

But I also see photos fans have posted. It seems like there are more girls taking photos with him after training. With him and all the others, but I only care about my boyfriend.

I’m not a jealous person. I’ve never been, honestly. It’s easy to say you aren’t but then your actions show the opposite. However, that’s not me. I don’t think I’d be able to deal with the stress if I was a jealous person and dating a football player.

So it’s not jealousy I feel while reading the captions they write for my boyfriend. Or seeing the videos where they try to hug him or kiss his cheek. But if it isn’t jealousy, then what is it?

I usually would just laugh it off. Julián himself tells me stories of these meetings whenever something funny happens, knowing how little I’ll care about their flirting with him.

Opening TikTok is probably the stupidest idea at the moment. Yet here I am wasting more time making myself feel ugly seeing all the gorgeous girls I follow for beauty and fashion inspo and getting annoyed at the edits Julián’s fans make for him.

“I’m so stupid”, I say, throwing the phone on the sofa before hiding underneath one of the blankets.

A couple of minutes later, Julián is back and starts to call my name. For a second, I think about pretending to sleep but he would notice the lie.

“I’m here”, I say in a small voice, getting my head out from underneath the blanket so he can see me.

“What are you doing there? Are you feeling alright?”

I nod, not wanting to worry him with my silly thoughts. “Just tired”.

“Well, I’m tired too. How about you move so I can fit next to you and we cuddle?”

“I’d like that”.

My promise to tell him about how I was feeling is gone the second I place my head on his chest. Because I have no reason to feel like this. I should be fine. This will pass soon.

                                    **

"So how was your day?, asks Julián while he sets the table for our dinner. We fell asleep on the sofa the moment we cuddled and didn't get to talk at all.

"Ok, I guess", I shrug.

"What did you do? You always tell me about the whole day. Come on, I want to know".

I'm usually excited to talk about my day. But not right now. "You know. Studied in the morning, face timed with my mum and then went to the sofa to nap".

"Everything ok with your parents?"

"Sure. Why do you ask?"

I can see him trying to find the right words. "I don't know. You seem a bit off. I thought maybe they gave you bad news or something".

"No. I'm just tired. I told you".

"Well, then you sit here", he says, putting his hands on my shoulders and guiding me to the chair. "And I'll finish getting everything ready".

"Thank you", I say, offering him a small smile. His is a lot bigger and after kissing my temple he goes back to the kitchen.

During dinner, he updates me on everything going on at the club and focusing my attention on someone else for a second helps me a lot.

"Feeling better?", he says, hopeful.

"Yes. I think I'll just take a shower before bed to help me relax".

"Go do that. I'll put this in the dishwasher".

I get up to go to the room and stop when I reach Julián to give him a hug.

"I love it when you're clingy like that".

This time the smile is bigger. It's easy to smile when he's around. It's when I'm alone with my thoughts that I struggle.

When I get out of the shower, I try to make a bit of an effort. It's not as if I have to impress Julián right now, but I need to impress myself, sort of.

Whenever I'm having these confidence issues or whatever they are, the first thing I drop is looking after myself. I struggle with simple things such as putting on moisturizer after the shower or picking cute outfits. And it only makes me feel worse in the end because I look worse. It's such a stupid cycle.

Julián is already in bed looking at his phone when I get back to the room. He puts the phone away the moment I get to the bed and puts one of his arms around my shoulders to bring me closer to him.

"You smell so good I could eat you".

I laugh. "You don't like coconut".

"Not the fruit. But I like it when you smell like this", he says, nuzzling his nose on my neck.

"Feel free to use the body butter if you want to smell like me", I joke.

"Wouldn't that make me too irresistible to other women?"

I roll my eyes at his bad joke. "I'll take the risk".

"Actually, I didn't tell you this funny story from today. These three girls asked for a photo when I was in my car and kept complimenting me, my clothes, my car …no subtlety", he laughs but I don't join him. "And then a kid showed up and they had to let him get closer and were so annoyed. They'll probably be there again tomorrow".

I don't say anything because what can I say? I already saw the photos and I thought the girls looked familiar. I guess they spend their days there.

"Hey, you ok?"

"Yes", I say, turning my back to him and pretending to get ready to sleep.

"What was that?"

"I'm sleepy. Good night".

"What did I do for you to react like…wait, are you jealous?"

"What?", I say, turning again to look at him.

"I told you about those girls and you got all weird. You have no reason to be jealous, you know that".

"I'm not jealous of any fangirls, Julián".

And I'm not, but my tone and my face make it sound like a lie. I hate this feeling.

I go back to my previous position and a couple of seconds later I notice Julián wrapping his arms around my waist and bringing me closer to his chest.

"It's you I want. Please know that".

"I know", I whisper. Maybe it's better if he thinks I'm jealous instead of having to dig deeper to explain everything else. "I love you".

"I love you too. Sleep well now. You'll feel better tomorrow after a good night's rest".

If only it were that easy.

                                      **

The next couple of days, Julián seems to be tiptoeing around my feelings and he doesn't bring up any meetings with fangirls. Actually, by checking Instagram, I've noticed one of them mentioned he didn't stop to attend them at all. I don't even know how I feel about that.

By the time he comes back from training, I'm back under the blanket and when he gets to the sofa, he moves it to see my face.

"You were worrying me so I spoke to your mum".

"What?", I say, sitting up.

"Well, you don't talk to me so I had to do something. I can't see my girlfriend hurting and do nothing".

"I just don't know what happens to me", I say, feeling the tears on the back of my eyes.

"It's not going to solve everything but sit here", he says, patting the spot between his legs. "So I can hold you while we try to make sense of it, ok?"

I nod, sitting there and letting him share his strength with me through this hug.

"It's just something that happens sometimes. I don't know if it's anxiety or something else. But I just feel like I'm not enough. Like all my confidence is gone. Like anything I have to do, no matter how small, demands too big of an effort from me".

"Ok. Does it usually take long for that feeling to go away?"

"It depends. It used to be worse when I was younger. Now it's usually a couple of days. Maybe a week and a half or something like that".

"And do you know anything that can make you feel better? Whatever it is, I'll make sure you have it".

"You".

He looks at me confused. "What do you mean?"

"I need you. You don't even notice how much you help me just by being you. It's when you're not around that it gets worse".

"That means a lot to me. But we need to find other ways to help. I wish I could always stay with you but I can't".

"I know", I say, hugging him tighter and placing my head on his chest.

"And you're sure there is no jealousy involved in this? It's ok if there is. I mean, I'm jealous of every man that talks to you".

I chuckle. "No, I'm not jealous. I guess what made me feel worse about those fans was their confidence. How they had no fear of going to talk with you guys and being so direct to you. I wouldn't be able to do something like that. Not in the state I'm in at the moment".

"You don't need to. Because I chose you a while ago. And I keep choosing you every day".

"But you didn't know all these issues were included in the package when you chose me. What if it gets too much for you? I don't want you to feel like you have to baby me".

"I'm not. I'm just looking after you like you look after me. Can you just let me do it? Let me look after you, please".

"Does looking after me include cuddles and watching my favourite movies while we eat ice cream?"

"Of course it does".

"Then count me in".

[comingyourlugubriousness]

"Thanks for inviting us Tuna, Rook...and I guess Azul! I can't wait to see all the events!" Here's my boy Yume all dressed up for the wonderful and charming @tunabesimpin's SEA SIDE PARTY! , Along with their reluctant plus-one Idia. (The Great Grim assumed he was invited of course and tagged along as well.)

(I had a lot of fun designing outfits for this! I can't wait to see everyone ocs dressed up! 0v0)

Yume’s favorite things to do in the summertime are splashing around, building sand castles, of course and getting ice cream to cope with the hot weather! They would definitely want a crack at the splash contest! But in their free time, they'd hang out with friends, eat good food, and collect shells and help Idia make sand castles! And keep Grim out of trouble!

Idia tries to peacefully stay in his shut-in area, playing hand-held games in his easy fold-up beach tent, but somehow gets dragged out into the fun! I could see him getting a bit competitive and tactical about capture the flag.

Drabble for the event under read more!

DRABBLE START! -

“C’mon Idia don’t you want to have a classic anime filler beach date with me?” Yume said dramatically, fluttering their lashes and putting on an overly cute voice.

 Idia snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, don’t even try that, you know I do, just...not with…everyone else…” Idia muttered. He sighed, just as dramatically, and hid his face in Yume’s neck to sulk. His arms wrapped around their waist, nuzzling his nose into their skin. 

Yume melted at the gesture, letting out a fond sigh and putting their arms around him as well.

 “Oh, no fair, you know I’m easy…” They cooed, tangling their fingers in warm flaming strands. They took a few moments just sitting in silence and enjoying the hug.

 “I wish Ortho could come...” He said quietly, warm breath on their skin as he sighed.

“Aw, I know, me too.” They said rubbing small circles on his back.”But, you said it yourself. Unless you designed a completely new body by tomorrow, the sand and saltwater could harm his systems. You can’t risk that…and I only get a plus one!” They said, matter of factly, shrugging a shoulder. 

Idia made a dull noise of acknowledgement, drearily sinking further into them. 

Yume sighed, pressing their cheek atop his head.

“I know, even though we’ve been out a few times…it's still hard sometimes huh?” 

“Nightmare mode.” He said in a muffled voice. “Y-yu can’t expect me t-to do a Max difficulty  mission so soon-!, I-I haven’t leveled up enough.” He whined on their shoulder.

Yume rolled their eyes fondly at his wording, but understood. They still had their ups and downs too with their anxiety. Sure the days Yume didn’t want to go out or talk to new people were far less frequent than Idia’s, but they still happened. And he always supported them… 

Yume frowned, rocking them back both and forth as they thought, and came to a decision.

“Fine! Okay, you win. You know I won’t force you to go.” Yume said. 

Idia gasped, pulling back and scooping up their hands, a sparkle in his eye. 

“Really!” He cheered, giving them a sharp tooth grin, as if he had gotten away with something devious, but Yume knew that was just his face. “Wee he he~, Yume’s the best!” He said, squeezing them in a tight hug. Yume let out a squeak, but grinned at the affection.

“Yeah yeah…maybe we can have a summer movie marathon instead, or something…” They said once he let go.

“Hm?” Idia pulled back, raising an eyebrow. “...aren’t you still going?”

“Nah…” Yume waved their hand. ”it wouldn’t be as fun without you. Besides, I don’t wanna, third wheel while Leona makes gross old man passes at Yuuta. Bleh.” They said, pretending to gag.

“B-but…you already made those kawaii matching shirts for you and Grim…” He said, remembering how cute the two of them looked in the pictures they had sent earlier.

“Ah. well..we can wear them another time, really…it's okay...” They said, trying to give him a reassuring smile. Then they turned away to their phone, opening up Magicam to message Tuna. 

Idia pouted, his brows furrowing…

They finished typing out an excuse, but before they could send the message confirming their absence, Idia placed a hand on their phone, stopping them. Yume furrowed their brow, looking up curiously

“W-well…m-maybe it wouldn’t be so bad…a classic cliche beach day with Yume…” He said, avoiding his eyes blushing a bit.

“Really!? You mean it?” They asked hopefully, lacing both their fingers together.

“Y-yeah, I won’t be going at it solo…you’ll be with me, right?” He asked, giving them a small smile. Yume gasped, their chest filling up with warmth.

“Of course!” They said, then threw their arms around him. Idia yelped, a giddy grin on his face as he fell back on his bed from the force of their hug. - End!

Big thank you to @tunabesimpin for hosting the event! If you don't already follow them check them out!

[pebblysand]

hi! i loved the new chapter but i am so curious about the chatgpt version lol 👀

thank you! hahah i had a hunch someone would ask.

so basically, out of all of these, chapter 22 4.0 is the one where i actually finished the chapter, hitting circ. 34,200 words. subsequent versions were me editing and trying to cut down words because the length really was my primary concern for this chapter.

now, for context, as i've said before, i'm not one of those people who are viscerally opposed to chatgpt. i work in tech, i think AI is a tool that has its strengths and weaknesses, and i do not feel threatened by it. i don't think chatgpt will be able to write something like castles any time soon and if it ever does, then it means it has developed quasi consciousness, and as such i won't feel threatened by it more than i feel threatened by any other writer. i don't have a strong desire to rehash that debate, if anyone who reads this wants to come scream at me in my inbox then fine, this is not a hill i will die on.

so, having said that, in this chapter, i mostly used chatgpt to reduce my wordcount. i ran most of my first draft through it and asked it to reduce the wordcount. to be full transparent, this led to ... mixed results:

i first found out that chatgpt actually cannot count words lmao. the wordcounts it gave me for snippets and the ones i would get on google docs were wildly different. i mean by, like, hundreds of words.

secondly, did it help? i guess yes ... ish? it honestly probably only helped me take out maybe 500 words out of the 2,000 i ended up taking out. mostly by shortening sentences and highlighting unnecessary details.

to give an example, this is the original version of a paragraph i ran through chatgpt (178 words):

The weeks - passed. Once Ginny’s people got involved, Harry realised he wasn’t needed much anymore. She would spend her days on long calls with her editor every day, talking about moving [x] scene from one chapter to the next, discussing word choices and the narrative value of certain moments. Ginny never closed the door on him, but it became obvious this was a part he couldn’t help with. The days got warmer, the sun brighter. He took Lily out of the house a lot. Brought her to Quidditch practice with Hawk and the team; her presence softened Ron’s frustration with him. They went to the park almost every day; he got her one of those Muggle scooters and she zoomed up and down the paths in Hampstead Heath, scaring off the pigeons and grumbling elderly ladies. Samira started to worry about him. ‘You alright?’ she would ask, tagging along with him and Lily sometimes. He would shrug. ‘You know you’re going to have to keep your head down, right? You won’t be able to defend her from everything.’

Chatgpt's version (134 words):

Weeks passed. Once Ginny’s team took over, Harry realized he wasn’t needed much anymore. She spent her days on calls with her editor, discussing scene placements, word choices, and narrative nuances. While Ginny never shut him out completely, it became clear this was an aspect he couldn’t contribute to. As the days warmed and the sun brightened, he often took Lily out. They attended Quidditch practices with Hawk and the team; Lily’s presence eased Ron’s lingering tension. They visited the park nearly every day; Harry got her a Muggle scooter, and she zoomed around Hampstead Heath, startling pigeons and grumbling elderly ladies. Samira started to worry about Harry. ‘Are you alright?’ she’d ask, joining them occasionally. He’d shrug. ‘You know you have to keep a low profile, right? You can’t protect her from everything.’

Final version (140 words):

The weeks passed. After Ginny’s people took over, Harry realised he wasn’t needed much anymore. She’d spend her days on calls with her editor, discussing scene placements, word choices, and narrative nuances he knew nothing about. While she never shut him out, it became clear this was an aspect he couldn’t contribute to. The days warmed and the sun brightened, he took Lily out often. They went to Quidditch practice with Hawk and the team; her presence eased the lingering tension with Ron. They visited the park nearly every day; Harry got her a Muggle scooter and she zoomed around Hampstead Heath, startling pigeons and grumbling elderly ladies. Samira started to worry about Harry. ‘Are you alright?’ she’d ask, joining them occasionally. He’d shrug. ‘You know you have to keep a low profile, right? You can’t protect her from everything.’

i think overall, this was probably one of the rare ones where i accepted most of its modifications. i would say that most of the time, i accepted a sentence here and there. as you can see, the problem with it is that it dries up the prose. it gets rid of filler words and condenses information, which isn't super castles-y. it's fine to accept when it's a paragraph that doesn't matter much (like this one) but it feels awkward on more important stuff. i think overall, i still prefer the first version, but i was okay with the final version because i desperately needed to cut down the wordcount, and whilst it wasn't great, it was fine.

so, as i said, i probably deleted, like, 300-500 words with it, and the rest just deleting stuff myself. it didn't massively change anything.

hope this helps :)

[vera-king-hrfl]

WIP Wednesday!

So I've been working on this for a while, and I shared the first part last week, thanks to a tag from the lovely @reverieblondie, who is welcome to share a snippet if they want to!

It's a modern AU retelling of my current story, Where Our Demons Hide, a developing relationship between Cal the adorable tiefling and my sexy OC, Ryldinn the drow. The setting is Baldur’s Gate, but the feel is more 1980s Miami, and it's quite gay. Like stereotypically homosexual. So if you're not into that, maybe give this one a miss. I've had input from my older gay friends, and they don't think it's offensive, so here we go with part 2. The parts are short for now because I'm still obsessed with Demons, but I'll get going when that's done.

I'm also trying to think of a title, so if anyone has any ideas, hit me up! Tagging @crowwolf because they seemed interested. 🥰

CW: m/m, stereotypical behavior and language, non-explicit masturbation.

When Cal arrives at his home in the Lower City a short time later, he tosses his keys in the bowl by the door and goes directly to the icebox, pulling out a beer. Then he flops down on the sofa, which protests under his weight with a creaking of springs, drinking half of the bottle in one swallow before leaning over to unlace his boots.

"You’re home early." He looks up to see his sister, Lia, leaning against the frame of the door to her room in a bathrobe, looking him over critically. "How did it go?"

Cal chuckles. "It’s after eleventh bell. I wouldn't exactly call that early." He sighs and tosses the boots vaguely toward his own bedroom door, then snags the beer and leans back. "And really, I don’t know how it went, exactly. It wasn’t really my kind of place."

Lia joins Cal on the sofa, sitting on the other end and tucking her feet under her. "Well, I suppose there must be other ways to meet people. What kind of place was it?"

"Loud." Cal sips his drink again and smirks at her. "Loud and full of cute guys who didn't even look at me. I think maybe I'm too butch for that crowd."

Lia snorts. "I'm sure that's not it. My guess would be that you're too shy for that crowd. Did you talk to anyone at..." She stops, her eyes moving to the little corner of pink paper visible in the pocket of his green plaid shirt. Before Cal can stop her, she leans forward and snags the napkin, twisting around to read it while he tries to grab at her.

"Hey! Give that back."

His sister ignores him, of course, unfolding the napkin and then grinning. "Ooooo you got some digits! Holding out on me, brother. So who is he?"

"Um... Well, his name is Ryldinn."

"That's a funny name. Is he from around here?"

"I'm not sure how long he's been... but probably not originally, no. He's... well. He's a dark elf."

"A drow, huh? Then I guess he's from the Underdark." She thinks for a moment, frowning slightly, then shrugs. "Are you going to call him?"

Cal sighs and leans back again, finishing his beer before answering with a grimace. "I don't know. I dont know what a guy like that would see in me. Maybe it's a fake number."

"Well, did you ask for it, or did he offer?"

He offered, actually." He sighs again, leaning forward to pull the tie from his hair and ruffling it with his fingertips. "He introduced himself, bought me a drink and asked me to dance. Said he wants to get coffee and talk. I don’t really know what that means, but..."

Lia laughs. "Adorably clueless, as usual. That's a date, Cal. The guy asked you on a date. A good first date is usually somewhere public, but still quiet enough to talk. Do you like him? What does he look like?"

"He's... gods he's gorgeous. He's actually pretty small, like up to my chin. He has really dark skin and those red eyes. Long white hair. In fantastic shape. And he seems nice, but... That's why I wasn’t... what does someone like that want with me?" He buries his face in his hands, and Lia sets the napkin on a side table and scoots over to rub his back.

"Don’t be silly, you're handsome too, you just lack confidence. But really, is that all you want people to see? You have other qualities. Any man would be lucky to have you, even the pretty ones."

"Yeah, maybe," Cal mutters into his hands. Then he lets out a slightly squeaky grunt and flinches away as she digs her knuckles into his ribs, then bats her away. "Hey, knock it off! I think I'm just going to go to bed." Lia giggles, but then relents, looking at him critically.

"Hmph. Alright. But I do think you should call him. You don't have work tomorrow; maybe you can get something started."

Cal gets to his feet with another complaint from the couch springs, and stretches. "I don't know. I was going to head into the shop for a bit..."

Lia springs from the sofa and snags the napkin. "Oh no you don't. Dammon doesn’t need you tomorrow; he said so. Unless you can give me a good reason why not, you're going on a date. And if you don’t call him, I will."

"Hey! I don't need a pimp." But Cal is grinning too, and plucks the number from her hand. "Fine, I'll call him. Just keep your nose out of it, alright?"

Lia snickers again, then turns to go back to her room. "Whatever. But I want details!" Her door closes, and Cal stares at the little pink napkin for another minute before huffing and shutting himself in his own room, tossing it onto his nightstand, stripping to his underwear and flopping down on his bed. He lays there in the dark for a while, thinking about the evening. Ryldinn’s sweet face and sweeter body, the other giggly men, Astarion’s sour expression. The high elf was gorgeous, but cold, and he smelled a little strange to Cal's sensitive nose. Some subtle cologne was present, with rosemary and other things, but beneath that there was an indescribable aroma that made Cal even more nervous than the striking grouchy face and creepy blue eyes.

Ryldinn, on the other hand, smelled wonderful. Earth and stone, like after the rain, with some lovely sweetness that the tiefling can’t place. Cal rolls onto his side and closes his eyes, only to have his mind's eye filled with the memory of that beautiful dark face, and the way the lights had reflected on his sleek skin and large jewel-like eyes, smooth little white teeth glimpsed between soft pinkish lips. The sinuous way he moved, the feel of the tight waist under Cal’s big hands. The flex of his ass...

He groans softly and rolls onto his stomach, trying to ignore the growing insistence between his legs. No, he thinks. I will not jerk off to a guy I just met. If he does get up the nerve to actually call Ryldinn, that would be weird. So he blows out a breath and tries to relax, but after about another hour of sleepless agonizing he rolls onto his back again and takes himself in hand, trying to think of anything else but the pretty drow. It doesn't quite work, but at least it's fast, and he grits his teeth as he spills onto his belly.

"Fuck," he whispers to himself, grabbing whatever fabric is in reach on his floor and cleaning up the mess. Then he takes the napkin again and stares at it for a few minutes before tossing it back on the table. "Fine," he sighs. "I'll call him." Then, finally relieved enough to rest, rolls back over and is snoring in minutes.

[stesierra]

Find the Word tag!

@alnaperera tagged me!

My words are: path, hobby, drown, and roll

I'm pulling from School of Souls, because why not.

I'm going to tag @da-na-hae and @owlsandwich and @dyrewrites with the words fume, fire, friend and family.

Path

We walked across the campus on a wide dirt path, past the lodges for the freshmen, sophomores and juniors. I kicked at the few weeds that hadn’t been trampled down.

Declan led me up to the senior lodge. A rearing bear decorated the front door. “This is where you’ll come every year to set up your classes.”

“To talk to Ember?”

His mouth quirked. “Ember’s graduating next year. Then there’ll be a new top senior. Maybe it’ll be me!”

The door opened, and Ember peeked out, smiling gently at me. “Are you coming in?” she asked. “You’re a bit late. I’ve already set up the other freshmen.”

Declan said, “Juniper was tired, I guess.”

I said, “I’m here now. Let’s get this over with.”

She led us into a wood-paneled hallway and to the first door on the right. I took a seat on the wooden bench in front of the solid oak desk. Declan sat beside me, and I thought about shoving him off.

Ember settled herself behind the desk, in a rocking chair that looked like it belonged on somebody’s porch. “Did Declan tell you why you’re here?”

“To pick classes,” I said. “Can I do all art classes?” They probably didn’t even have them.

Ember shook her head and steepled her fingers on the desk. “You need to take the basics for all subjects. But you can take a lot of art, if you choose the appropriate focus.”

“Illusion and communication,” Declan said.

“That’s right,” said Ember.

I squeezed my hands together. “You’re talking magic. Art would prepare me for becoming a sorceress?”

Ember shrugged. “To become a picture-talker, like me. What is an illusion but art? But if you want to be an entroper or mind-bender or heal-transformer, you’ll specialize in different classes.”

“Those are my options?”

“The four types of magic, yup,” Declan said. “Which one do you want?”

I hesitated and then admitted, “I don’t really know what the difference is.” I’d seen biopics of famous sorcerers, and read articles about whoever was the darling sorceress of the year, because the media loved to poke into the lives of the rare and powerful, but they never seemed to know much. What magic was real, and what had Hollywood simply made up?

Ember laughed. “All the freshmen are in the same boat. Let me explain. Entropers specialize in entropy and destruction. Fire spells, for example. Real ones, not just a spark.”

I nodded. Anyone could learn to make a spark if they learned a little about combustion. I had no idea what you needed to know to cast something larger. “What classes do they take?”

“Mainly physics and thermodynamics, along with some chemistry. Now mind-benders specialize in coercion and control. They take classes in psychology and neurology.”

I swallowed hard. “You mean they can control people’s minds? That’s allowed?”

Her eyes twinkled at me. “Well, we ask them not to go too mad with power. But yes, they can. And so can you, if you study to become one.”

The thought of binding someone’s mind to my will, forcing them to think the thoughts I wanted, made me sick to my stomach. “Not that one. I don’t—no, I can’t do that.”

“Neurology is a bitch anyway,” Declan said.

Ember offered me a sympathetic smile. “That leaves us with one more. Heal-transformers. They specialize in healing and transformation. Basically, manipulation of living organisms. They take classes in biology, physiology and anatomy of animals, humans and plants.”

I stared at her, my heart thudding in my throat. “Are you telling me I could learn to heal people?”

“In a few years, if you take the right classes as a freshman and sophomore.”

I nearly fell off the bench. If I could heal, if I could save people like Dad... Suddenly, I saw a future ahead of me I actually wanted. It’d been over a year since I cared what I’d do as an adult--it’s hard to look that far ahead when you’re hopped up on sleeping pills. “That one,” I said around the lump in my throat. “I want to be a healer.”

“Heal-transformer,” Declan corrected. “They don’t just heal people.”

No. They had made the winged cow that had startled me so badly yesterday. “I don’t care. Put me in the biology and anatomy classes.”

Hobby

Couldn't find this one

Drown

Was it a moose? Maybe it had been once. It had an enormous nose and spreading antlers. But porcupine quills jutted up from its spine and shoulders, as long as my forearm, and instead of hooves, it had paws riddled with dozens of inch-long claws, sticking out from odd places. It didn’t have fangs, but its mouth opened too wide, like a snake’s.

The other girl stood frozen, her face set in a rictus of terror. I hauled on her shoulder and screamed “Run!” in her ear and she whipped around and bolted.

I hurtled after her, and the moose was right behind me. If it had been a real moose, it would have caught me in an instant. But with all those claws, it stepped gingerly, like a child walking on LEGO, and that slowed it down. I was just barely able to keep ahead of it. But it would catch me, would catch both of us. My legs felt like lead, a stitch was ripping out my guts, and I was gasping like I was dying. I was about to die when it caught me.

I cast around for some escape. My instincts screamed for me to climb a tree, but these were lodgepole pines, with skinny branches that started six feet up. I’d never reach them, and they wouldn’t support my weight, anyway.

We’d veered off the path, thundering across pine needles and scrubby undergrowth, and I knew we were about to get lost. But what did that matter when a monster was about to eat us? Its mouth gaped unnaturally wide, enough to swallow my entire head.

Maybe I should have thought of my mom and regretted parting on such a sour note. I’d never get to reconcile with her. Maybe I should’ve mourned that. But all I was thinking, through the haze of terror that hung over my brain, was that this was definitely her fault.

Ahead of me, the other girl put her foot down a burrow and crashed to the ground. I could run past her easily. The moose would stop to rip her apart and swallow the chunks of her flesh. It was the smart thing to do. No one would blame me for keeping myself alive. It wasn’t like I’d thrown her to the monster myself.

But even as I thought that, I grabbed her arm and hauled her out of the burrow. She clawed her way back upright with the aid of a tree trunk and limped on. I was faster, but I didn’t leave her behind.

The monster gained on us, only a ten yards away. Ahead, another massive boulder rose twelve feet high. The side facing me was spider-webbed with cracks. They looked like handholds.

I found enough breath to cry, “This way!” And I careened towards the rock. The other girl followed.

When I reached the boulder, I swarmed up up the side. My fingers and toes found holds, and desperation sped my limbs. It wasn’t that different from scrabbling up boulders at Camelback Mountain back home.

I made it to the top, breathing hard, and the other girl clambered after me. She was slower; maybe they didn’t have boulders wherever she came from.

The monster caught up. It hesitated for a moment, as if deciding what part of the other girl was most delicious. She was only halfway up the boulder, and the monster stood seven feet tall. I was beyond its reach, but her legs lay within striking distance.

I yanked the skull out of my pocket and hurled it with all my strength into the monster’s face.

It clobbered it in the nose, so hard the skull shattered.

The monster bellowed and retreated, shaking its head and spines. The other girl surged up the side of the boulder and made it to the top. We were safe.

We panted there, sweat running down our faces. More pooled at the small of my back, sticky and uncomfortable. My hands burned from where I’d scraped them on the rock.

The monster reared up, pawing at the boulder with its excessive claws. I flinched, but its head was still two feet beneath us. And although the monster kept scratching at the rock, it failed to swarm up the side and devour us.

“What do we do now?” the other girl said, her voice hoarse as if she’d been screaming. But this was the first peep she’d made since the monster ambushed us.

I hugged my knees to my chest. “Wait. It’s got to get tired of stalking us, eventually.”

But it didn’t get tired. It circled the boulder, uttering regular grunts and squeals. The sour musky scent of the beast drifted up to me, drowning out the smell of the pines. We both tried our cellphones—carrying them in our pockets out of habit—but there was zero signal. I used mine to snap a picture of the monster as it slavered beneath us. Ammo to use against Mom if I ever saw her again. Look what you got me into, I’d say.

The sun that beat down on us moved across the sky, and the air warmed. Hours passed on top of that rock, neither of us saying anything to the other. What was I supposed to say? I saved your life, you’re welcome? It was probably true—that had been a fantastic throw on my part—but she hadn’t thanked me, and I wouldn’t rub her face in it. It felt too much like Mom telling me I should be grateful she’d given birth to me.

The moose-thing kept circling and calling. There was no way down that wasn’t in its path. We wouldn’t die from its teeth and claws. We would dry up before then. I hadn’t even thought to bring a bottle of water.

Roll

I kicked him in the shoe. “It was just supposed to be a walk in the woods. It was supposed to be harmless. Adults always claim getting out in nature is good for you.”

“Around here, it isn’t,” he said. “But you’ll be doing a lot for the next four years.”

I raised my chin. “Oh no, I won’t. I’m never leaving campus again.”

He grinned at me. “You absolutely are. You’ve got to get your exercise somehow, and there’s no treadmill up here.”

“I don’t care about exercise,” I said flatly. “If the cafeteria’s any good, I intend to eat until I gain three hundred pounds and have to be rolled down the mountain senior year.”

Declan pursed his lips. “Do you want to be a sorceress, Juniper? Do you want to make something out of your life?”

“I’ll be a fat sorceress. A tub of lard that can heal her own atherosclerosis.”

“You realize that’s impossible. You wouldn’t be able to summon up an ounce of magic.” When I stared at him blankly, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not being prejudiced against fat people. It’s just, when you exercise, you build up your constitution. That doesn’t just let you run and hike better. That constitution is the same thing that your magic draws upon.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“No shit here. The more you exercise, the more magic you’ll be able to channel.”

I threw myself down on my bed and said into my pillow, my voice muffled, “You’re seriously telling me we have to exercise like health freaks if we want to be sorcerers? We don’t even have gym class!”

He said, unsympathetically, “We don’t have gym because you’re expected to find your own time to exercise. The hours you’d spend in gym are better spent learning biology, if you want to be a heal-transformer. That’s why I wake up at five thirty in the morning. And why you’ll be waking that early tomorrow.”

I dug my nails into my pillow. “I can’t get up that early.”

“You have to.”

“You don’t understand. I have insomnia, and I take sleeping pills. They haven’t worn off by then.” He didn’t need to know that I took four times the prescribed dose. Or that sometimes I took one when I wasn’t sleeping.

Tag list for everything

@anonymousfoz

@moremysteriesthantragedies

@elizababie

@sm-writes-chaos

@bellascarousel

@macabremoons

@the-dragon-chronicler

@teacupsandstarlight

@vorskra

@wrenofthewords

@amostdelectablescribbler

@mysticstarlightduck

@phantommill

@gracewritesbooks

@aziz-reads

@owlsandwich

@symbioticsimplicity

@squarebracket-trick

@fishythewriter

@koala2all

@rmgrey-author

@atomatowriter

Just chapters and snippets

@da-na-hae

[hedgiwithapen]

Answer the Questions and Tag 5 Fanfic Authors

Tagged by @mosylufanfic

1. How did you get into writing fanfiction?

Daydreamed a LOT. hated writing. Made up stories in my brain, mostly about Digimon. then, was Chronically Unsupervised for a summer and found Fanfiction.net and went oh heck, I could do that? I could just. write one down??? people would maybe like it?? and then I Did That. at this point I had, you see, decided I Liked Writing Now. (active choice, the way I recently decided that I Like Celery.)

2. How many fandoms have you written in?

Uhhhh ok so there's Digimon (technically) and Fablehaven (again, only technically.) Big Hero 6 and then Flash, Young Justice, Supergirl, Stargirl, Avatar, the Librarians, Leverage, Blue Beetle(movie) My Adventures with Superman, Superman and Lois, Legends of Tomorrow, pokemon (game--sapphire) and Agents of Shield. And like. my various RPGs. but a lot of those are like.... just a couple dammit hedgi day ficlets so... shrug?

3. How many years have you been writing fanfiction? the first one I ever posted on the internet was in I want to say 2007. but the first one I guess I ever like. actively came up with was a little booklet about an oddish and a jigglypuff escaping team rocket (they were the only pokemon I could draw) and that was back in like. '99. it had aproximately ten words in it so that's more of a fan comic than fanfiction.

4. Do you read or write more fanfiction?

I write more than I read, I think, but I read more than I finish, excuding the month of september. DHD is an outleir adn should not be counted.

5. What is one way you’ve improved as a writer?

I can do action and fight scenes now!!!! Also I think I'm better at dialog. I used to be real bad at both those things.

6. What’s the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

hmmmmmmmmm. I mean. I feel like the deep diving into victorian flower language maybe? or like. How Trial By Combat worked in the Age Of Knights? How many calories a kitten with superspeed would need, perhaps. oh wait you know what, it's absolutely more obscure catholic patron saints, which I hardly even used in the fics i was researching them for, but man. did y'all know that St. Jude is also called Thaddeus and that he and St. Bartholomew are co-patron saints of Armenia? there's some kind of Barth Allen and Thaddeus Thawne Joke in there.

7. What’s your favorite type of comment to receive on your work?

I really like the key smashy "how dare you." ones. also a big fan of the ones where people leave their favorite line and a string of emojis. I love anything that lets me guess how emotional a person got.

8. What’s the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

uhhhhh idk. metakitties?

9. What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

Long fics that drastically diverge from canon or are big AUs... I run out of roadmap and then worry no one's really going to care. also, just. ship fic in general. So I do not. or I do so rarely and in smaller sections.

10. What is the easiest type?

present tense introspective fics. those just flow.

11. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

I mostly use google docs, and I also do a lot of hand writing in a notebook. usually sitting at my little computer desk on my bed, or in the back hall at work, and typically in the afternoon-evening.

12. What is something you’ve been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

ehhhhhhhh I'm not really like. intimidated by anything that I'm interested in doing? I'm just lazy. lol.

13. What made you choose your username?

Assigned Hedgehog by cubscouts when I was a counselor at a summer camp. It Stuck.

uhhh I tag @windona @pennflinn @wrencatte @thenarator and @parvumautomaton but no pressure but also anyone else who wants to do this.

[higurehige]

hi hello. been 5000 years since I have been tagged in much. uwu thank you @spadefish in return i slaaap uuuuh @duskdragonxiii @etakeh @vampiremasochist annnd @ponyacci (chose 2 of these based on activity feed but still important non-the-less! I hope you guys are all well even if we are but strangers in this wide blue world. Obvs feel free to ignore if you want to)

1. Are you named after anyone? A country singer. Course no one really thinks of her when they hear my name.

2. When was the last time you cried? Hrmmmm. Iunno probably 2 months ago over cirque du freak book series. I cry over books a lot.

3. Do you have kids? I am the kid. Do the 9 cats in my house count? On a serious note - no and I don't plan to. I have far too many problems and raising a kid would just wind up with me placing at least HALF of those problems on them. No. This curse ends with me. I don't think I'd even feel comfortable helping raise someone elses kid if we were in a relationship.

4. What sports do you play/have you played? I picked up archery recently! That's cool. I don't go as often as I should bc it's a bit expensive...but...yea! Archerys cool. Working on learning both recurve and compound. recurve for funsies and compound for hunting. (I just want an excuse to go sit out in the woods for hours on end doing fuck all and maybe, possibly bringing home some meat too)

5. Do you use sarcasm? Not often. I'm pretty blunt and no matter how hard I try to control myself I end up sounding like that one guy from guardians of the galaxy "Nothing goes over my head. I would catch it"

6. What is the first thing you notice about people? -shrug- Their face? I guess? Or whatever color they're wearing. Maybe their shoes. Idk...I'm terrible at facial recognition so I go ape trying to compensate for this.

7. What's your eye color? Green

8. Scary movies or happy endings? (both good but probably horror lean)

9. Any talents? Depends what you count as a talent. Born with? Insane observational skills? Uh I can eat actual rotten and moldy food and not get sick? Uuuuuuh. Hmmm....I can dilate my pupils at will? I can bend my legs freaky directions but not freaky enough to look like a contortionist. naturally good with animals I guess? Idk, nothing to write home about.

10. Where were you born? South Haven Michigan

11. What are your hobbies? Reading, drawing, writing (lol to both of these), gardening (i live in an apartment so I cant really do like...vegetable gardening but, I got plants! =3), studying various animals (and bugs), studying plants, photography, I come and go out of other hobbies, honestly. Adhd moments of "wow that looks cool" doing it once and never again....I'm trying, chief.

12. Do you have any pets? Avery (black cat), Diva and squeakers (twin solid gray cats), Baguatte (orange boi), Tiny man (gray stripy fella), Shaggy (not really MY cat, he's just some stray but....-sigh- he is sleeping in my house rn so I GUESS. (brother to Tiny man I think. very similar appearances). then there's weasle and skunk. (also cats) Do the assassin bugs i just bought for my garden count as pets? bc I have assassin bugs in my plants now =3

13. How tall are you? 5'4 ish and built like a brick.

14. Favorite subject in school? Didn't have a good time in school, so I hated all of it. Excelled at English and reading classes.

15. Dream job? Biology field. I want to get paid to study animal/insect behaviors and write papers on them. As it is I am just doing this shit for free lol

[rou-en]

lmfao the fuck are you on, a tesla is still very much a symbol of being rich as fuck. shut up and listen to actual poor people for a minute and maybe you'll gain some critical thinking skills. or maybe you'll just go back to being a bootlicker. who knows?

Oh wow another first - anon hate!

Also welcome, it’s very weird to be interacting with people on this hell site after so long, but hello!! To me this is all very hilarious to come about from just venting in tags about Watcher drama but I guess that’s this place for you eh?

I could just have not swiped and answered this one, and tbh I hesitated a bit on the first anon as well, but it does feel exhilarating to be speaking to the void and getting a voice back (any voice in fact!)

But first to this second anon (coz I’d guess from the tone that you’re not the first), I hope you’re doing alright in the real world - that as frustrated and angry as you might be about my take on Teslas (very much a shitty car), you are alright and safe,

Since I seem to have a captive audience (of at least two that I can tell of so far, how novel!), I guess let me soliloquy about thoughts on wealth and the complex nature sometimes of the whole “poor vs rich” dynamic, which is also a bit of why I even waded a little into responding to you amidst watcher drama,

Second anon, I recommend dl;dr (don’t like don’t read) -

I come from a generation where that’s what we did for things we didn’t like. For all I’ve said you’re a captive audience, you’re actually not (again, this is all very funny to me right now I can’t believe this is over ghoul boi drama still jfc) - one person’s opinion will always be just that, an opinion.

I think anon, we might be in different areas of the world, but at least where I live (please check prev tags on the post you were referring to, I’m also too internet-old not to hide in tags as much as I like) it’s become an increasingly common sight to see even soccer moms drive a Tesla, their bloody SUV model is the bane of my existence,

Does that mean everyone can afford them? No. Does it mean a middle-class family could afford them? If they wanted it enough, yes. Does it mean there still aren’t people suffering here from poverty in my part of the world? Sadly, no.

And therein lies an interesting problem (well at least to me as a former economics student) about signalling and truly knowing where in the whole class wars business you’re on, because it does make a difference if you ever have to figure out which rich to eat,

Is the 1% who get to fly on private chartered space flights and book out the whole of Disneyland for themselves (I’m looking at a shitty Amazon CEO there) the first to the guillotine? Oh yes.

But what about everyone else? Are we going to burn everyone who has multiple iPhones? God forbid anyone ever treats themselves to a seven-course degustation? Would not recommend, but I don’t think it guillotine-perfect, and I don’t think everyone that drives a Tesla where I am in the world can begin to count as that,

Those people live a daily life here, second anon, it’s so middle-class here it’s almost funny and why saying to me “Steven owns a Tesla” makes me shrug and go “would not recommend but you do you”,

I understand that can be different to you, because oh, turns out my own thoughts and circumstances can be very different to yours indeed.

Fun fact, I grew up first in a developing country, and had the privilege to move to a “first-world” country because my family was dedicated and sacrificed to make sure I could live the “better life” so to speak,

So I know there’s an inequality in the world when an exchange rate could mean the difference between something being a “rich” vs “normal” thing - I buy a Switch here for about 450 bucks (I saved and then got it on sale) as an achievable treat; for my sister who still lives in my home country, it’s almost two grand and definitely ridiculous to spend on for any normal family,

On one level, where is the fairness in that? But I live with it, and I have to choose some treats or if not what’s the point in life,

What does this all mean in the face of the original ghoul boys/watcher drama that’s occurring now? If anyone has read this for long enough is probably wondering at this point,

(I hope you’re both with me still my two anons, I’ll cherish this even if nothing else ever happens to me on this hell site)

I guess I wanted to try and say: life is complicated, and everyone makes complicated decisions, even your favourite comfort YouTubers,

It means I can only see the exacting vitriol at Steven for liking nice things but not Shane for also liking nice things and wonder whether people are barking up the wrong trees, very racist trees in fact,

It means that I keep thinking of shitposts about when the time comes, we’d likely just start offing our neighbours for being “rich” then anyone actually rich, because we seem to not understand the difference between nice things and things no nice person should have (holding also the complicated element of environment and geopolitics to account),

In the process of writing my first response to anon #1, I did have a moment where I wondered, “what if the Watcher boys did think about this? What if they did have some level of number crunching and still looked into their souls and decided that it wasn’t what they wanted? That they knew they could keep doing what they’re doing now and be financially stable, or risk it because of what they believe?”

I and you or anyone can wonder, can or cannot understand, but I sure as hell wish the Watcher team the best of luck, and like you anon, their days will be safe, content and filled with nice things, because why else would I want anything else for anyone,

That’s my one opinion at least, take that as you will anon on the bootlicking quotient for that - if being someone that would just like us all to take a chill pill is being one, then meh - you’re welcome to your opinion too,

But thanks to anyone that’s somehow come to my Tedtalk that started with my random thoughts on Watcher drama and ended with me finding people are still around (it’s not just all bots huzzah!)