#I’ve hyperfixated on playing pool a few times before

[thresholdbb]

Janeway’s pool skills are actually insane

[mortytheestallion]

tasting glass

Part 2   Part 3

Rating: 18+ (No minors); explicit 

Wordcount: 1.6k

Warnings: Rick Sanchez x F!Reader, angst, implied age gap, unprotected sex, daddy kink

A/N: Hello I’m back from the dead, I know I’ve been lacking on both fandoms but my hyperfixations have died. In honor of season 5 here’s a new little mini-series I’m challenging myself to this summer! This takes place in between episodes 2 and 3!

The summer heat was humid and sticky as Rick finished his latest project. The sweltering seemed to permeate the garage just the same with the door opened or closed, and with Beth and Jerry’s latest fight reaching its peak, he decided hiding away was his best bet. 

Rick and the heat did not get along well, something that translated to the rest of the family, it felt as though he was fending off Summer and Morty with a stick. Their boredom was not his problem though, he had much better things to do. The thought of slipping away had plagued his mind for the last few hours, but the fever of the summer seemed to make his mind feel like syrup. 

“What I wouldn’t fucking give for a pool right now?” Rick murmured to himself, his brow furrowing at the reminder of his own sticky misery. The sky bathed the house in a silky red with the sun slipping down under the horizon. He took another sip from his flask, turning to lean on the workbench. 

He heaved a deep sigh as his phone caught the corner of his eye, you were ignoring him, and in true Rick fashion he had taken that in stride. His eyes narrowed unconsciously as he thought about it, his empty hand tightening into a fist. He didn’t fucking need you.

 He didn’t need anybody.

Beth’s shrill voice cut through the air followed by some thuds and an “Ow!” from Jerry. That earned an eye roll from Rick and while he wouldn’t mind going in there and tearing them a new one, it was too much work. Morty was breathing down his neck about letting them be, that they were happy. He had scoffed when Morty said that, it was bullshit and he wouldn’t be surprised if someone wanted another divorce in the next 6 months. 

Nonetheless, he was stuck in this stuffy house with his family’s bullshit to avoid your bullshit and he was starting to feel suffocated. Why did he give a shit if you were mad, fuck if you wanted to play that game so would he. Maybe it was the liquor he had just downed but it really didn't take much to get Rick riled up. And you knew that. 

He could feel the anger blooming in his chest, he wasn’t some fucking teenager in a petty fight with some dumb, little girlfriend. Suddenly he was hot with anger and before he knew it, a portal was in the center of the floor and he was walking through. Damned be his new fibermesh epidermis defense, and fuck his family, always asking him for shit. 

One foot through he stopped and thought of you briefly softening, he had been pretty rough on you lately. You called, he declined. You showed up, he went out the nearest portal. He had really only been around lately to take care of his own needs.

A particularly loud curse from inside the house brought him right back to his original train of thought, he was the smartest man in the universe, he didn’t need to take crap from you. You should be thanking him for his presence in your life. 

“You have some fucking nerve.” 

You shrieked as Rick pulled back the shower curtain. A cold shower was one of the better ways to fend off the heat with the air conditioner broken, especially since Rick had moaned, groaned, and wormed his way out of fixing it. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” You hissed as he climbed in fully clothed, his brow in a prominent V-shape, lids half mast. It would have been comical in any other situation, his lanky body struggling to fit in your small shower, an almost bored expression on his face as the water drenched his clothes. 

“Me?” Rick scoffed, and narrowed his eyes at you. He began to lose his composure a bit, having your wet naked body in front of him. 

“Yes, you. You can’t just barge in here unannounced anymore Rick. I’m not some toy you can pick up when you’re bored and throw it away when you’re not.”

He feigned a hurt look, shrugged the now soaked coat from his shoulders. “I have enough toys, sweetheart, if you were one you’d know.”

That earned a huff from you, it had been a long day and the last thing you needed was Rick’s bullshit. Turning back to face the water, you rinsed the rest of the soap off of you, jumping slightly as his arms snaked their way around your waist. 

“C’mon,” he murmured, pressing kisses to your shoulder, you could feel the hard press of cold denim against your ass as he ground into you, “you know you can’t refuse my huge dynamite penis.” 

That earned a snort from you, the hard shell of anger cracking slightly. “You’re not off that easy, Rick. You’ve been a huge asshole lately, even more than usual.” 

His hands came up to massage your breasts, the feeling amplified by the cold water. You let out a low moan as he latched his mouth to the sweet spot on your neck while one hand tweaked your nipple, and the other snuck its way down to stroke your fluttering core. 

“S-shit baby you can’t still —is this all for me?” You could feel his wolfish grin against the back of your neck, and in return you arched your back more to grind against his erection. His long fingers trace through your folds as he removes his other hand to undo his belt, you feel the tight heat in your lower belly as you gush around his fingers. 

“Fuck,” Rick murmurs, stopping his motions momentarily to land a hard smack on your ass. You bite back a whine, wanting to maintain some semblance of composure, despite him being knuckle-deep in you. His fingers suddenly press against something deep and spongy within you, your knees buckle as you lurch forward, the unexpected waves of pleasure shivers down your body. Rick lets out another curse, his arm darting out to grip your waist, surely you would’ve fallen face-first into the wall had he not been holding you up.

He inhales sharply as you clench around his fingers, whispering good girl into your neck as you ride it out. He eases out of you, your juices dripping down your thighs, the feeling coupled with the uncomfortable chill of the water makes you shudder. 

“You’re a dirty little slut,” you tense again as he aligns himself to your entrance, still a little sensitive from your release, “beg me baby, I-I want to hear you.”

You mewl as he pushes into you, the stretch rides the line of pleasure and pain, Rick barely gives you enough time to get used to it before he bucks his hips and grips your jaw as a warning, “Beg.”

“Please, Rick, I want — I want you to fuck me,” your voice comes out whiny making you wince a bit, but it seems to please Rick as he sets a deep pace, biting into your neck hard enough it's sure to leave a mark.

You can’t help but arch your back even further, this seems to please him as he releases his bite on your neck, “Someone’s eager, y-you can’t seem to get enough of my dick can you?” You moan in response, snaking a hand down to rub the tender bundle of nerves. 

You clench at the contact, leading Rick to fasten his pace, his hand moving to tighten around your neck. 

“You’re my — you’re daddy’s good girl aren’t you? Can’t get enough of m-my monster cock, you wanna come don’t you? Don’t fucking dare, not until I say so.”

All you can manage is incoherent moans with the occasional Rick! thrown in, you’re too cockdumb to be embarrassed or angry anymore. Rick has his way of getting out of trouble, especially with you. 

His brutal pace coupled with your own fingers becomes too much for you as you near your second orgasm, Rick seemed to egg you on as his own fingers replaced yours, you could feel your stomach tightening as your release began to stir in the peak of your stomach. 

“Come on my dick, baby, let the neighbors hear you scream my name.”

The pleasure washes over you in waves, your pussy clenching hard around his dick, he thrusts with wild abandon chasing his own release. You can feel him rut against your sensitive walls, riding your post-orgasmic haze. He spills inside you a few moments later letting out a string of expletives in true Rick fashion. You feel yourself stir again slightly as you feel him fill you up, but Rick extracts himself from you gracelessly. 

Coming back to your senses you rinse the mixture of juices off your legs, much to Rick’s distaste, and turn off the water. You shiver from being drenched for so long, side-eyeing Rick as he avoids your gaze. 

“You’re dripping on my floor,” you murmur, he stands there uncomfortably, it's not lost on you that his portal gun has returned to his hand.

“Well, I-I should go.”

“Typical.”

Rick can feel the anger simmer low in his belly at your dig, “What do you mean typical?”

“Well let’s see Rick, you show up angry and unannounced, seduce me in my show—” “I didn’t seduce you! And —and frankly, I resent the accusation!” “And now you’re leaving with no explanation. This isn’t sustainable long term, Rick.”

“And what makes you think I want to be here long term,” He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, a hurt look flashes across your face before it's replaced with anger. 

“Come on, baby, I-I didn’t mean it.” 

He reaches out for you and you jerk backwards, “Your family may have taken you back, but I’m not this time Rick.” 

He opens his mouth, but you cut him off, “Just go, it’s what you’re best at.”

Rage blinds him as he shoots a portal to the floor, “Don’t — I’m not coming back this time.”

“I know you're not.” And with that he’s gone.

[hyperfixated-gvf]

Read the Room

On the fifth day of Tropemas, hyperfixated-gvf gave to me:

A fluffy Hero fic with tipsy!Jake the cutie.

Christmas Song Pairing: “Baby It’s Cold Outside” by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Jordan

~~~

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader

Warnings: Light language, a bit of sexual humor, and one instance where Jake thinks he’s witnessing domestic abuse

Words: 3.4k

If you didn’t have reason before to keep your meddling sister out of your love life, you did now. Was it endearing, the way she was just looking out for you? Sure. Did you appreciate her thinking of you when she made the date, knowing that you would be alone on Christmas since you hadn’t made any friends in the area yet? Of course.

But for the life of you, you could not see how she thought the man in front of you would be the answer to your loneliness.

“So I’m looking at the crazy bitch like damn, I’m glad I got myself out of there when I had the chance,” he huffed, taking another swig of his drink.

You gave a polite laugh, not knowing how else to respond. “Yeah, exes will be like that sometimes. What have you –”

He interrupted you. “Yeah, I wish it was only sometimes. I swear, I have the worst taste in women because they all turn out to be insane. I mean worst taste in personality – I feel like I have a good eye for beauty,” he said, glancing down your body and winking. “You’re just – you’re exactly what I’ve been looking for. You don’t seem dramatic or flaky or just looking for a hookup.”

The offense that rose within you was partly for yourself and partly for all of his exes. “Oh gee, I’m flattered,” you responded unconvincingly, definitely not in the least bit flattered. You knew you should just come up with an excuse to leave instead of fuel this man’s delusions, but you really didn’t want to be stuck in your apartment, alone once again.

At least here, you were getting free drinks.

Your date started telling you another story about an ex that was prompted from his own comment. You didn’t think you’d actually gotten a word in outside of your name and a greeting the entire night. The bar seats you were sitting on were the kind that spun, so you readjusted yourself to face the room just a little more, letting your eyes wander to combat the boredom.

You sipped your drink; the bar was pretty full, but it was a Friday, so you weren’t surprised. The tables were all taken up by other couples and groups of people laughing and drinking and talking and generally having a better time than you were. The bar seating was less exciting – more single people and couples that couldn’t get a table trying to talk above the drink orders being thrown to the bartenders. Luckily your were far enough away from the drink-making area to avoid the majority of the noise; or perhaps unluckily – you thought that maybe had you been closer, you’d have an excuse for how many times you’d had to ask your date to repeat himself because you hadn’t been listening.

There was a small area on the other side of the room with a few bar staples - foosball, pool, darts, and a small card table. You were tempted to ask him if he wanted to play a game of darts or pool, but every time the playing tables were vacated, another group immediately took up camp, and neither the frat-ish looking college boys nor the long-haired party looked particularly inclined to stop in the middle of their games.

You watched a hit be made on the pool table – it was alright, not getting any balls in, but settling the 8-ball near flush against a busy pocket, which could help or hinder the shot-taker depending on how good the other people were.

You hadn’t realized you’d been watching the game continue on until your date’s hand brushed your upper-arm. “Do you play pool?” he asked, following your gaze.

You shifted your arm away from the touch, but the man didn’t seem to notice. “Uh, yeah. My parents had a pool table in their basement, and my sister and my dad and I used to play tournaments. I was alright – my dad was better and my sister sucked, but we had fun.”

“I was surprised your sister contacted me – I haven’t seen her since we worked the same shift at the soup kitchen in college. I love volunteering, but it was the only shift I really got to work throughout my educational career. I guess my major and minor took up a lot of my time since they were a little difficult,” he laughed, and you knew he was waiting for you to ask what they were, but you were tiring of playing along.

You blinked and took your eyes off the pool table, but before you could look back to your date, one of the pool players caught your eye and smirked, waving his fingers at you. He must have seen you watching the game and you gave a half-hearted smile back, shrugging before returning your attention to the man next to you.

“Yeah, school kinda sucked, but now that I’m graduated and have a job and everything, it was worth it, I think.”

He nodded, interested, or at least pretending to be. “I almost asked your sister out that day at the soup kitchen,” he said, continuing his story. Obviously, he had not been interested, and you had to keep yourself from rolling your eyes, so you took a long pull from your drink instead. “You’re almost a carbon copy of her; it’s nice.”

You choked on your drink, in disbelief that those words had actually come out of his mouth. “What?”

His eyes widened when he realized what he’d said and he took your hand in his. “Oh, not in, like, a creepy way. I’m not hung up on your sister or anything, but for old time’s sake – you remind me of her, or the time I knew her, is what I’m trying to say.”

You tugged your hand from his grip and rubbed the back of your neck, searching your vocabulary for words that weren’t ‘fuck you’ and were thankfully saved by a body approaching the limited space at the bar on your left. It was the long-haired pool player. Your date frowned at his proximity to you and even you gave the stranger a funny look as you twisted the seat around a bit to raise your eyebrows at him.

“Can I…help you?” you asked.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I just thought I’d introduce myself.” His voice was nice, and he smelled a little bit like cigarettes and a very distinct something else, although you couldn’t put a name on it. “Hi,” he said, sticking his hand out with a subdued smile playing at his lips and a mischievous light in his eyes, “I’m Mr. Right, I heard you were looking for me?”

You were stunned into silence for a second, but then covered your mouth to hide your smile so as not to be rude to your date, rude as he had been to you all night. You still shook his hand, though.

“What the fuck, dude?” your date said incredulously, and you couldn’t deny the absolute balls it took for a guy to approach a couple that was clearly on a date, bad as it was, and say that. But from the glint in this guy’s eye, you could tell that he was insolent on the best of days.

“Oh fuck, sorry, are you guys on a date?” the stranger apologized in faux-innocence.

“Um, yes,” your date stated, eyebrows still shot to his hairline.

“My bad,” the pool-player said, putting his hands up in surrender, but still winked at you covertly, and you had to cough to hide the laugh that bubbled up. He wandered away with a hand stuffed in his pocket, both you and your date watching him make his way back to the table, not looking back at you.

“That was…weird,” you offered.

“That was fucking rude,” the man huffed. “It makes me so mad when men think they can just go up to a girl and hit on them – that’s fucking creepy, and it makes me feel bad for women. Like come on, it’s the 21st century, women are people with more to offer than what they can give you.”

You found it hard to take him seriously when just a few topics ago, he’d been badmouthing his exes and talking about his taste in a woman’s body and personality.

“I dunno, if it’s harmless, I think it’s more acceptable. Flirting is just another means of communication, so unless they’re aggressive about it and won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, what’s the harm? I kinda admire a guy who has the guts to walk up to a woman and start a conversation – it doesn’t happen a lot, and it’s something I personally wouldn’t have the confidence to do either.”

He made a face. “You admire guys like him?” he asked, referencing the pool player.

You let out a small laugh. “I mean, not necessarily in the manner or situation in which he chose to place himself, but yes, like what he did.”

Your date shrugged, expression still sour. “I mean, to each their own, I guess.” You each took a break from speaking to drink what was left of you’d ordered, and the man took the opportunity after your empty glass had been set down to lean forward toward you. You could sense a change of subject coming up, and were less than enthused to hear what it would be. “So I’ve been having a great time, and I think we have a real connection, Y/N. What do you think about maybe setting up a second date? I know a really great hiking trail outside town we could do. At night, you can even see the stars – it’s incredible. Maybe we could go camping together next weekend?”

If red flags had been waving inside your mind before this, sirens were blasting with them now, too. This was definitely worse that any subject change you’d had in mind.

“Oh,” you said, a bit uncomfortable. “Look, I don’t want you to think that I, like, doubt your integrity or your intentions or anything, but personally, I think the second date is just a bit too early for camping together. For me. And it’s pretty cold out; I’ve never gone camping in the winter.”

Your date furrowed his brows. “Oh. Do you think I’d try to hurt your or something? Cause you know I wouldn’t, right? And I have all the supplies for winter camping.” He readjusted himself, staring intently at your face. “It’s just, that spot is pretty special to me, and I’d really like to share it with you. I feel like you’ll get to know me a lot more there – that spot’s like, the perfect encapsulation of my aura or whatever,” he joked. Or maybe not, you weren’t really sure.

You leaned away from him, turning your body back towards the room. “Like I said, it’s not that I assume you’ll hurt me or whatever, it’s just that I don’t really know you all that well, and camping is an activity that requires a certain kind of trust with the people you go with.”

He persisted. “Oh, come on, it’s just camping. We don’t even have to sleep in the same tent if you don’t want to.” His hand came to rest on your knee and you pursed your lips and stared at it. “Please?” he asked softly, trying to persuade you as if he had the power to change your mind.

You felt really uncomfortable and couldn’t help the grimace on your face.

“Hey, I’m sorry, could I just take a quick peek under the bar right there? I think I lost something.” Your date had been so caught up in trying to get you to come camping with him, and you in trying to turn him down that you didn’t notice the pool player approaching again, swerving and ducking his head, searching for something on the ground.

You took the opportunity to get up off your seat, moving to the side to let him have a look, displacing your date’s hand for the third time that night. “Oh, yeah, of course. What’d you lose?”

He shrugged and scratched his head. “I just – I could have sworn I had your number in my phone, but I can’t find it. Would you mind putting it in again for me?” He flipped his other hand out, offering a smart phone with a new contact page pulled up.

You didn’t stop your laugh this time, letting out a singular guffaw that your date looked to be offended at. “That was a good one,” you admitted. “Very smooth.”

Your date looked between the two of you. “Do you guys know each other?”

You shook your head just as the stranger shrugged. “No, but I’d like to.” You tried to hide your blush and rolled your eyes. Your date took your hand and tugged on it, trying to get you back in the seat beside him, and the stranger’s easy smile faltered infinitesimally.

“Do you mind?” your date grouched. “You’re kinda ruining our date.”

The stranger scoffed. “Okay, then, I guess I’ll go. I know when I’m unwanted,” he sighed.

“Obviously not, since you came back,” snarked the other man. The stranger shot him a middle finger and walked away.

Was he an asshole? Kinda seemed like it. Was he an intriguing potential asshole? Hell yes.

“I honestly don’t know what’s going on,” you said. “I’ve never seen that man in my life.”

Your date turned back to you. “Oh, I’m not blaming you, sweetheart.” The pet name made you cringe. “There’s just some weird people out there. Would you like another drink?”

You really didn’t. As much as you didn’t want to go home to your empty apartment, the date was no longer proving to be worth the free alcohol.

“Uh –” You were about to answer when you saw the pool player point to you and then to the hallway that led to the bathrooms. He walked over to the corner and then motioned for you to join him and disappeared, and honestly? This was the most excitement you’d had in weeks, so you smiled at your date and got up. “I actually have to go to the bathroom real quick, I’ll be back,” you said, already taking steps towards your destination.

You walked around the corner to the restrooms and were thankful for the well-lit space – as exciting as the pool-playing stranger seemed to be, you weren’t fully convinced that he wasn’t in it for the same thing as the douchebag back at the bar was.

He was leaning against the wall between the men’s door and the women’s door, waiting for you. When you rounded the corner, he smiled at you and pushed off the wall. “That was quick. Eager to get away?” he teased.

You blew a breath out and chuckled. “Was I that obvious?” You’d tried, really, to not appear as though you weren’t enjoying yourself, but you knew your façade had slipped a few times.

The stranger hummed and put a little space between his thumb and pointer finger, holding it up so you could see. “A little bit. I thought it was just a bad date –”

“It was. Is.”

“—but then after he grabbed you the last time I came over, I just wanted to check and make sure that you’re okay.” His smile had dropped and he was looking at you with a slightly unfocused intensity.

“Are you drunk?” you asked.

He repeated his ‘small amount’ gesture. “A little bit. But I know how to handle my alcohol – I’m what you would call an experienced flyer,” he boasted, but quickly relocated his original question and intent. “But really – are you good? Do you need any help leaving or anything?”

He seemed genuinely concerned for you, and it made you smile. “No, I’m okay. The guy’s annoying and rude and oblivious, but I don’t think he’s out to get me. Thanks for checking on me, though” you said, turning, “now I’m gonna go let him down because I actually can’t stand him.”

The stranger laughed. “Sounds good.” You were almost to the corner when he spoke again. “If you stick around after he leaves, I’ll buy you a drink,” he offered. “For your bad date and any other trouble.”

You batted your hand at him. “Nah.” His face dropped a little bit and he flushed. “You don’t need to pay for it, I’ll have a drink with you anyways.”

He smiled again, and you had to school your features as you made you way back to your date at the bar, sliding into the empty bar stool and flagging down a bartender. Your date smiled.

“Change your mind about that drink?”

You smiled apologetically. “No. I think I’m just gonna grab the tab.” He frowned at the statement.

“Oh, no no, I’ll pay, I insist,” he said, grabbing his wallet, but you shook your head.

“Listen, I don’t – I really don’t see this relationship going anywhere.” His face fell and you felt bad, but not the kind of bad that was going to haunt you – it needed to be done. “I’m sorry. I know you were really into it, but I just – I don’t think it’s fair for me to take advantage of your enthusiasm, so I’d rather we just…left it here.”

“Ah, I - um - yeah, okay. Uh, I’ll still get the tab, you only got two drinks,” he said, shrugging. “Can I walk you to your car?” he asked as the bartender took the bill away with his card.

You shook your head again. “No thank you, I think I’m going to run to the store across the street before I go home,” you lied. “But thanks for the offer, and thanks for paying, you didn’t have to do that.”

His card came back and he stood up, grabbing his coat. “It’s all good. Well, thanks for the evening, I guess. It would’ve been better without that douchebag butting in. I feel like he really killed the mood,” he joked.

“Ah, yeah, definitely,” you said, a small spark of guilt coming and going within the space of a half-second considering that you were staying for that same douchebag. “Sorry it didn’t work out. I hope you have a Merry Christmas.”

But you really didn’t blame yourself for this one.

“Thanks,” he said, “you too.”

And then he walked out. You returned to your seat and let out a huge sigh of relief at being out of his company at last.

You got out your phone and brought up your sister’s messages.

Never ever set me up on a date ever again.

Ever.

You waved at the bartender again, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be high-maintenance. But could I get two BJ shots?” You hadn’t had one since college, but if there was ever an occasion, it was now.

The bartender laughed. “Sweetie, I heard a bit of your conversations. I don’t blame you.”

You wiped your hands down your face. “Oh thank God I wasn’t the only one.”

She laughed and made the shots, pulling a can of whipped cream from a small refrigerator, topping them off, and putting them in front of you.

“Starting a tab or closing out?”

“Closing out,” you smiled, offering your card. She tapped a few buttons on her screen and returned it to you, leaving to take care of other bar patrons.

You stared at the shots, waiting, and smiled when someone took the stool next to you.

“Celebrating?” the long-haired stranger asked with a smirk.

You snorted, turning towards him and pushing a shot his way. “I am, actually.” You raised the tiny glass his way up in a toast, and he mirrored you, eyebrow raised in expectancy. “To giving a blowjob to literally anyone else but that guy.”

The stranger laughed as your glasses clinked together, then you both knocked the bottom on the bar counter and lifted the rims to your mouths, putting your lips around the circumference and throwing your heads back. You let your tongue press the whipped cream against the roof of your mouth before swallowing, placing the glass back on the bar.

The man tapped his finger to the top of his lip. “You got something, just there.”

You thumbed the errant cream off your mouth and licked it off as he watched you intently and let a smile play at his lips, always seeming like he was keeping a secret.

“I’m sure we have very different experiences, but by my standards,” he said, smile growing, “that was a pretty damn good blowjob.”

You laughed and stuck out your hand. “Hi, Mr. Right, I’m Y/N, I was the one looking for you.” He beamed, and it was adorable.

“Call me Jake.”

~~~

Tag list: @fleetsonfire @theweightofstardust @joshplaysthevocals

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Do you have any autistic Scout headcanons? :P

Hell yeah!

I’ve actually thought about this a lot. A lot of people might think that Scout has ADHD, but I think he either has both ADHD and autism or just autism.

This is both because labeling Scout as having just ADHD is kind of a low-hanging fruit, and I also want to explore his symptoms a little more. So, in a word, I do, and thank you for asking about them!

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

Scout’s Spectrum:

So, where exactly does Scout fall on the autism spectrum?

First of all, he probably has both ADHD and autism, but wasn’t diagnosed with the latter until much later. This means that some of his symptoms were taken into account, but not all.

The ones that were paid attention to ramped up out of control, and the ones he didn’t hear about were stuffed away.

His ADHD symptoms include impulsiveness, need for stimulation, hyperfixations, forgetfulness, and insomnia; his autism symptoms include trouble with social skills, stimming, near inability to remember names and faces, lack of eye contact, hyperfixations again, and sensory processing issues, especially with noise and touch.

He used to have a lot of meltdowns when he was younger, usually about wearing new clothes and the amount of noise his eight brothers generated.

However, he was teased and pushed into masking nearly all the time, and made his whole personality about his ADHD, since that was what everyone accepted.

As he got older, he usually wrote off any autistic tendencies as either his ADHD or just “little habits” of his.

During his middle school years, he used energy drinks to bounce back from being exhausted every day after school. This would work, except those energy drinks would upset his ADHD, and would make it much harder to focus on even basic conversation.

After a while, he got such bad grades and had such a hard time making friends that Scout just stopped going to school altogether.

Baseball helped his focus, and the quick movement and thinking made a lot of sense to him. He never had to wait very long for the next development, and the instant gratification and community it provided supplemented what he never got at school.

With sports on his side, he rarely ever drank any energy drinks (the coach would never let them on the field), and he drank bucketfuls of water during every meet and game. Those teenage years were probably the healthiest he ever was.

However, with the amount of rumbles he got into with his brothers, and the turf wars that constantly raged in those neighborhoods, it was only a matter of time before his crime caught up with him.

After his first incarceration, he was booted from the team, which led to a downward spiral of unhealthy coping mechanisms - which included fighting someone tooth and nail whenever he could.

Even if he lost the fight, it not only catered to his impulsive nature and impatience, but also gave him roughly the same sense of friendship and camaraderie that baseball had.

One thing led to another, and by the time Mann Co. found him, Scout was a monster in hand to hand (and bat to bat) and had racked up quite the criminal record.

A perfect mercenary, ripe for the picking.

On The Team:

Scout very quickly adopted the “stupid, scrappy Boston boy” persona.

It was the only thing that made sense, and it kept him from having to try too hard in both the battlefield and socially.

Besides, that meant that he could be as silly, forgetful, and fidgety as he wanted, and no one would bat an eye.

And if he ever needed to take a break from the team, he figured everyone would appreciate the quiet.

The only thing that ever gave him away was him occasionally dissociating right when battle began, especially if the day had been stressful.

It was usually how he calmed down after a fight when he was young, but now he sometimes slid into that state when he was overwhelmed.

However, a yell from one of his teammates would usually snap him out of it.

Medic noticed this pretty early on, and wanted to look more into it, but Scout would keep making excuses not to get a mental examination.

He would blame it on zoning out, being tired, drinking too many Bonks - whatever it took for people to stop asking.

And, eventually, they did.

Even Medic stopped asking after a while - he couldn’t get a thing out of Scout.

This “try so little that when you do try it’s above average” charade worked for a long time. In fact, it went on for so long that Scout forgot how much he was actually capable of.

He began to internalize the stupidity, the exacerbation, the many comments on how dumb he was, everything.

The only time he ever gave his all was on the battlefield - moving fast, memorizing strategies, doing complicated footwork, knowing exactly how much force it took to crush someone’s skull with his bat.

That was one of the only things that he felt good doing, the only thing he could really work on without him being “found out.”

That and drawing, though he never showed the actual pieces to anyone. It was all stick figures and crooked lines with everyone else.

Sometimes, though, Scout wouldn’t be paying attention and he’d let something slip.

One time, Engineer was looking for his screwdriver, and couldn’t seem to find it anywhere.

Scout, not looking up from his comic, said, “Under the couch cushion, hard hat.”

Engineer bent down and reached into the couch, and his hand came back with his red and yellow striped screwdriver.

“Well I’ll be damned…”

At first Engineer thought Scout had just hid it, but Scout explained, still not paying attention:

“Last time we went out on th’ field, you had it on your belt, like always. But I was walkin’ by your workshop, you were usin’ a quarter to tighten a screw or somethin’. Your screwdriver had to be somewhere between the battlefield and your workshop. Engie, you’re like freakin’ clockwork. Every day, after a fight, you go to the kitchen, get a water, go to that couch, between the second and third cushion from the left, and sit there. Then ya go back to the fridge to get lunch and a beer, and ya go to your workshop until somebody needs you for somethin’. Your back loop in your tool belt is looser than all the others, ‘cause the screwdriver pulls against it when you sit down. The shank was probably in between the two cushions, and when you got up, it fell in. Demo, Pyro, and Heavy all sit on the second or third cushion at some point, so it got shimmied down. And since that’s the only time you sat down, ‘cause you woulda heard it if it dropped on the floor, and I…uh…”

“I’ll be damned,” Engie repeated, and felt the back tool belt loop. It was indeed loose.

Scout finally looked up, and realized what had happened.

“Uh, uh - l-lucky guess, huh Engie?”

Engineer squinted behind his goggles. “Yeah…real lucky…”

What ensued was Engie trying to get Scout to turn into a B.L.U Spy by chasing him around with his wrench. After a few good hits, though, Engineer saw that it was the teammate he knew and loved.

“But…how didja…?”

Scout threw his hand up, the other rubbing the back of his head where he’d been hit.

“I toldja Engie! Lucky guess! Jesus!”

Ever since then, Scout chose his words more carefully.

The Breakdown:

But, unfortunately, Scout could not pretend forever.

There was one week where Scout’s assignment count was so high that, if he wasn’t in a fight, he was on a mission.

Usually, Pauling wouldn’t trust him with so much, but no one else was available - or willing - to do the jobs.

Even when she was getting concerned about the amount of hours Scout was putting in, he blew it off.

“It’s no sweat, Miss Pauling! Their practically givin’ me the pay day. Those yahoos don’t know who they’re messin’ with.”

Over time, though, Scout had a harder and harder time staying focused and alert.

He’d sleep through alarms, stare off into space, zone out completely during briefing (not that he didn’t already do that), have a hard time hearing people in battle - even through his headset - ignore Spy’s taunts, and even forget to bring his bat onto the field.

Nothing seemed to help - Bonk!, warming up, stretching, cold showers, setting reminders, nothing.

And the team was starting to notice.

At first it was with the regular frustration - maybe Scout was just being lazy.

But as time went on, and his condition grew worse, their scorn turned into worry. They implored Medic to do something, but he had no way of getting through to Scout.

The doctor wasn’t above simply sedating him and dragging him into his lab for a check-up. However, he had a feeling that this was more than a physical issue.

The worst came when Scout was doing a routine battle with the B.L.U team on the field.

Everything had started out okay - he even remembered to bring his bad this time - but suddenly, everything was ear-splittingly loud.

He couldn’t focus on more than one sound at once, much less communicate the best course of action to his teammates.

He ended up hiding in a dilapidated shed, in a dusty, dark corner, somewhere between zoning out and panicking.

Scout’s head was in his knees, he was shaking, close to crying, when a sudden splitting of wood roused him.

A B.L.U Soldier had kicked his way into the shed, either having heard Scout or to hide from the other team.

Scout was stunned at first, but something of a blind terror filled him. He picked up his bat, screamed, and started pummeling the surprised Soldier.

At some point, he threw aside his bat and began to swing punch after punch, just like he did in his gang days when he had felt overwhelmed. Still screaming. Still crying.

By the time Scout had dissolved into a rocking, sobbing mess, the Soldier was long dead, with a gigantic pool of blood staining Scout’s shoes.

No one even knew where Scout was until a few hours later, when Spy heard a faint note of “Sexbomb” coming from Scout’s Walkman.

Scout had crawled into the shed’s framework, between the outer and inner wall, and was playing a specific verse over and over and over again, looking like he was on another plane of existence.

Spy immediately called for Medic, who had to lift Scout out by the underarms through a jagged hole in the side of the building. By then, the fight was over, so they could take him directly to the lab.

Medic’s Evaluation:

“I’m guessing zhis is your first mental breakdown?”

“Mental…doc, I ain’t crazy. Wait, you’re not goin’ to put me in a straight jacket, are ya?”

“If you’re not doing anyzhing later.”

Medic started to laugh, but quickly realized this might not be the time.

“No, Scout, everyvun has a mental breakdown at least vunce in their lives. It’s a…how do you say…a vake-up call of sorts. Vhen your body has no other options left.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“For zhe past few months, you health, both physical and mental, has been deteriorating. You eat less. You talk less. Your attacks are lackluster. You have bags under your eyes. You flinch vhen somevun yells for you. You stare off into space. Your routine, vhich usually has at least some changes, has become stringent, as if you can’t possibly expend any more energy into extra activities. You have avoided Demoman on zhe battlefield, even though you usually use him for cover.”

Medic flipped through his notes.

“I have pages and pages of your decline. However, as a scientist, I believe it is caused by zhe same source. And, though I usually respect my patient’s right to privacy vhen it comes to these sorts of matters, I believe you’ve been keeping something from me. Something that I should know as your general practitioner…your doctor.”

Scout shrugged, already shutting out the conversation.

Medic sighed.

“Maybe I tried to talk to you about zhis too soon. After all, you’ve just had a very sudden and exhausting episode. But…perhaps…”

Medic took a sheet of printer paper from his clipboard and a spare pen from his pocket.

“…zhere is an alternative.”

Scout was still unresponsive, but Medic continued.

“Zhere is a patient in my vaiting room vis a metal pole through the chest. It vill take me at least an hour to properly remove it, and a few minutes more to heal zhe area. Vhile I do zhat, vhy don’t you draw how you feel?”

Medic smiled.

“I know how much it grounds you.”

It wasn’t until Medic left that Scout actually picked up the pen, but he began drawing immediately.

For the first time in a while, he wasn’t trying to hide his strokes or scratch up the cleaner lines. No more stick figures. No more pretending.

Five minutes later, he was fully engrossed.

Medic started to walk in at one point, but, seeing how relaxed Scout was, decided to give him a few more minutes.

He deserved it.

[nsheetee]

Wifi

Pairing: Renjun x Reader Genre: Roommate AU || Fluff, slightly crack-ish Length: 2k Warning: one mention of an adult theme, implied female reader Summary: You and Renjun have been rooming together for a while, not knowing of your hidden feelings for each other. Surprisingly, it’s the bad wifi connection in your room that brings you together.

〈〈〈━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━〉〉〉

You sigh for what seems like the umpteenth time that evening, your fingers angrily keyboard smashing on your laptop when the wifi bars at the top of the screen show only one small, weak bar barely hanging on.

Ever since you moved in with your new roommate Renjun, you’ve noticed how every once in a while around 11pm, the wifi in your room goes weak. Being a creature of the night that always gets their homework done during this time, it frustrates you that you have to take small breaks every few minutes for your computer to catch up with the internet connection.

Finally fed up with waiting for your computer to load, you pick up your supplies and march over to Renjun’s room, which is the closest room to the apartment’s wifi router. You knock on the door and after hearing an affirmative, you walk into the room. Renjun is buried under a pile of blankets on his bed with his hoodie pulled up to his lips and the hood over his forehead. The only light in the room is coming from his laptop and he hisses when you turn on the room light.

“Good God, turn that off before you blind me. What do you need?” You turn the light back off and instead turn on Renjun’s desk light, setting your stuff down on top of his abandoned homework.

“Can I finish my homework in here?”

“What’s wrong with your room?”

“The internet’s being dodgy again.” You explain and Renjun silently nods, shutting his laptop and putting his airpods into his ears as he looks through his phone. You sit at his “organized mess” of a desk, open your computer, and sigh contently when the wifi works smoothly.

Renjun peers over his phone to look at you. You’re concentrating hard on whatever paper you’re writing; your pajama shirt is so big that it covers your shorts and your hair is only held in it’s messy bun by a couple of pencils. He can’t see your face, but admiration pools in his chest.

He’s been lovesick for you ever since you interviewed to be his roommate. When you introduced yourself and answered all of his questions in your own quirky way, Renjun just about handed over the lease for you to sign then and there and called off all the other interviews he had that day. Since then, his small crush has grown bigger, but seems to be unnoticed by you. Renjun, instead of doing the obvious thing and confessing, decided to help you find out about his feelings “by yourself.”

Renjun found out that he can manually decrease the bandwidth of the apartment’s wifi just by logging into his internet service provider account online. So, he began to weaken the wifi every few nights around 11pm, when he knew you were doing your homework. Like clockwork, he’d hear your groans of frustration for a few moments before your feet pad over to his room and knock on the door, asking to do your homework in his room.

Was Renjun being ridiculous? Maybe… Was he going to stop this game he has you unknowingly playing? Not until you realize he has feelings for you or he gets enough guts to confess. Renjun sighs dejectedly when he thinks about the likeness of either of those events happening anytime soon. He sinks down further into his nest of blankets in an attempt to stop the feelings from taking over his chest, but to no avail.

Renjun has a total, major, embarrassing crush on his roommate.

〈〈〈〉〉〉

You knock on Renjun’s door once again, sighing when he tells you to enter from inside. You walk in with your books and pens in your hands, your computer haphazardly balanced on top of it all.

“What’s wrong?” Renjun asks from his spot on the floor. His project for his biology class is spread out on the floor; some sort of visual presentation that involves a lot of paper cut outs and glue.

“Internet’s bad.” You look over his work, “Are you actually doing your homework? I didn’t know that was possible.” Renjun glaces up from gluing paper to his presentation, a blank stare on his face. He didn’t manually decrease the bandwidth of the wifi tonight. Are the internet gods smiling down on him and bringing you to him through their own will? He hopes so.

“Those are bold words for someone who needs internet and the only place to get it is in my room.” It’s your turn to give Renjun a blank stare as you drop off your supplies on his desk. “Come here.” He commands. You sit down criss-cross applesauce across from him and he hands you a thick permanent marker.

“Write this here.” He points to a small passage in his notebook and a blank space on the presentation board before moving to glue a different piece of paper.

“Why? I’m not going to do your homework for you in return for wifi. I live here, I pay with this wifi.” You point the marker tip at him but he ignores you, too focused on gluing a piece of paper to the cardboard.

“Once again, this is my room.” You sigh at his stubbornness, deciding to help him just this once. You take time to look around; although you’ve been rooming together for a few weeks now, this is the first time you’ve casually been in his room. The wall above his bed particularly catches your eye; his drawings, the quick doodles that he seems to be proud of, are hanging over his bed. Some are of people he’s seen at the coffee shop he usually hangs out in, some are of your house plants that you bought for the window sill in the kitchen.

Your heart softens when you look back at Renjun; he seems to be hyperfixed on gluing a particular piece of paper to the cardboard, his lips open in concentration and his eyebrows slightly furrowed. You feel courage build up in your chest and your gut fill with fearlessness. This is it. You’re going to confess your feelings for your roommate right here and right now.

“Nice drawings.” You mumble out instead, cursing to yourself in your head when the courage fades.

“Really?” Renjun asks, looking over his shoulder to the drawings. “They’re just doodles…” He tries to sound humble, but you can see the tilt of one side of his lips as he tries to hide his smile.

“Yeah, golden hands, they’re good.” You roll your eyes, deciding to feed his ego. It distracts him long enough to allow you to stand up and escape to Renjun’s desk chair. You start your own homework, a yawn leaving your lips. Maybe tonight isn’t the time to confess your crush on your roommate, but you hope he’ll be able to see the little hints you give of your feelings.

Renjun once again can’t help but stare at your back as you work, not minding that you’re not helping him anymore. He hates that your small, seemingly insignificant comment about his artwork makes his heart pound. He wishes the wifi could stop working by itself more often so he could see you naturally, like he did tonight.

〈〈〈〉〉〉

You don’t knock this time as you enter Renjun’s room, throwing up a peace sign as you close the door behind you and walk to his desk.

“Hey,” He raises his voice. “I get you have homework to do and the internet is weird, but at least knock. What if I was… masterbating in here or something.” He mumbles the last part and you snort.

“I still need to use the internet. So if you’re gonna masterbate anytime soon, please go do it somewhere else.”

“This is my room.” Renjun whines, throwing the drawing pad he was using before you barged in next to him and flopping onto his bed.

“Or so you keep saying.” You tease some more, setting down your supplies on his desk.

Renjun hasn’t touched the wifi bandwidth in weeks for fear that his meddling has caused the wifi to actually turn bad in your apartment. His wish came true: the wifi kept breaking and messing up in your room, all by itself. Now, you were constantly in Renjun’s room doing your homework and although Renjun likes you (literally), he doesn’t like how you welcome yourself in.

You surprise him by laying down next to him; you’re both facing the ceiling, hands on your stomachs and sighs escaping your lips every few seconds. Renjun can’t tell what you’re thinking, he’s too afraid to look at your face for the fear of not being able to quit looking. He doesn’t know if you’re as affected as him by your arm meeting his every time you breath, or if you can sense his thoughts racing at 1,000 miles an hour in his head. He tries to breathe evenly when he catches a whiff of your moisturizer, the one he said he liked a few weeks ago and that you’ve been using everyday since.

“Aren’t you here to do your homework? Why are you laying down?”

“No.” You gulp at the words that are about to leave your lips. “I’m here… for you.” You hold your breath after you finish talking.

“What.”

“The wifi has been working fine for weeks. I’ve been coming here to spend time… with you.” You can’t imagine how Renjun was dense enough to believe that the wifi has been poor almost every night for the past 2 months, but you hope it has something to do with him liking spending time with you. You got tired of waiting for Renjun to pick up your hints and stopped waiting for the wifi to cut out in your room to join him in his-- it’s not like he would ever know if the wifi is actually being dodgy on your side of the apartment.

You’re still nervously waiting for Renjun to say something or to tease you and kick you out of his room and tell you to find a different place to stay and then you’re going to be homeless and then you’ll definitely never have good wifi and then…

Renjun sits up and you don’t let your eyes meet, instead pulling your hood over your head and tightening the strings to hide away from your indirect confession. Renjun untightens the strings and pulls the hood off of you; he looks like he’s about to laugh at you and it makes you nervous.

“You’re a fool. I was the one that was cutting out your wifi.” His words make you sit up straight. Your jaw unhinges as embarrassment floods you. You thought you were only going to confess your feelings tonight, not the fact that you’ve been sneakingly lying to Renjun to hang out with him every night.

Renjun starts laughing and in your flustered state, you pick up his forgotten drawing pad and hit him with it. Renjun only laughs harder at your reaction, clutching his shoulder. He’s partially laughing because of the dumb situation you got yourselves in, but also out of joy because you just confessed your feelings to him.

“You! Do you know how angry you made me? I couldn’t get any of my work done for weeks.” You yell. You’re sure the neighbors could probably hear your mixed voices, but you don’t care. “Why did you purposefully cut out the wifi?” You groan.

“Because I knew you would come to my room if I did.” Renjun confesses, leaning back on his bed with his hands. Your heart soars at his words; it’s what you’ve wanted him to say to you for so long. You raise the drawing pad to hit him again but he catches it, fingers covering yours as he stops your second attack. You let him pry the pad out of your hands and he drops it to a different corner of the bed.

“C’mere, dummy.”

“Who are you calling a dummy?”

“You. Now get over here so I can finally kiss you senseless.”

[shebeafancyflapjack]

King Takes Knight

A quick Michael whump drabble mini-fic, written for catharsis sake. I’ve had a rough week.

TW: Captivity, torture, impaling.

His wrists are bound together behind his back, chains clamping tight around his skin, looped to a stake on the stage. He’s constantly hanging forward, feet impaled into the wood by rusty nails. The laughter had rippled around him when those had been hammered in, slow as fork, half a minute between each pound to give Michael a chance to appreciate the pain. Enough time for everyone to enjoy his groans.

At first he’d done his best not to give them the satisfaction. Demons fed off the sounds of misery. No, seriously, it’s like a vampire feeding off blood. It’s like their own crack cocaine. Michael had grown tired of the ‘kick’ many centuries ago. Why him? Why none of the others? Oh, right, of course. That’s the whole reason he’s here. It’s why he’s now the main, impromptu, attraction at this DemonCon.

He’s a freak.

That was always a fact, as much as he had tried to hide from it. Demons don’t collect human objects for a hobby unless its teeth or kidneys. Demons don’t binge watch human TV shows to help them fantasise about what it would be like to live the way they do, up above on Earth in the fresh air, with dating and parties and their own laugh track. Demons don’t get tired of what they were designed for; torture, maiming, eviscerating. For so long he told himself, It’s just a phase, a hyperfix, it will be pass, I just need something new....

The psychological experiment had worked. Until it hadn’t.

Now here he was. Still a freak, to them, more so than ever. He has no intention of running from it anymore. Not that he’ll be able to run or walk for a while now.

Sometimes they loosen the chain and one of them will yank it, making him crawl. Typically after they’ve smashed a broken bottle on the floor, open palms falling onto the scattered shards, trousers tearing at the knee as they cut in deep.

He’d barely felt anything the first time he’d noticed the crimson pooling beneath him. He had already worked out that they’d done something to heighten the pain receptors in his skin suit. But how could he have blood?

“Just an illusion, you tuft of pubic hair.” Shawn had snarled at him, disgusted at the curios look on his prisoner’s face; “You don’t get to have blue goo like a true demon. You’re an abomination. A holy spawn of Nothing.”

He’d have tried to give a snappy comeback, had they not threaded a steel wire through his lips. Michael almost took it with pride; as if Shawn was afraid to hear him talk after he’d given his speech before. Clearly it had him worried that he was losing control, that there may have been demons listening who agreed with him, who were believed it was time to change. Maybe Michael wasn’t the only freak. A small, foolish part of him held out hope it would be one of them who would try to free him.

Nothing yet. Maybe all his words fell on deaf, wicked ears. Maybe they had considered it, for a moment, before distracted by the new attraction of a Michael piñata to play with.

The remainders of his suit stick to burned, bruised and bloodied skin. His jacket is gone, one of the Trolls borrowed his bow-tie to use as a handkerchief so he doesn’t expect to see that again given their snot is acidic. He knows they’re working their way up to the penis flattener. Just his luck, he was just starting to get used to the weird hanging bits, even having the odd fantasy of how he might be able to use them...and now it seems the first bit of action they’re going to get is being slammed with a mallet. If given a choice, he might prefer to try the butthole spiders.

His vision fades in and out after taking several punches to the head from one of the Rock Giants. He’s sure his eye nearly popped out of its socket and his jaw is broken, barely held together by the metal in his lips. They all chant their names at him. Not just freak. Traitor. Weakling. Disgrace. Failure. Hopeless. Loser.

They want tears. They want him to break.

But he’s never felt more strong in his life...at least, for now.

He closes his eyes, swaying in his bonds, head rolling as the pain thumps through his skull. He can still hear Janet screaming his name. Her magnet-bound hands reaching out for him. Jason’s hands on her arms, his distraught face looking past his not-a-girlfriend as Michael shoved the handcart away as soon as the guards caught up with them.

“GO! NOW! DON’T COME BACK! DON’T RESET! JUST GET OUT!”

It was one of them or all of them. It had to be him.

This was all his fault, after all. Janet had been taken because he’d been foolish enough to underestimate his former colleagues. They’d failed to notice the imposter among them because Michael was too busy keeping all his anxieties over his own potential double to himself. Had he just told Eleanor and the others the truth about Shawn’s call from before the experiment, the reason for his ‘breakdown’ from the start, they might have known something was up. They might have known better than to let Janet get on that train alone. 

He might not have let everyone down.

Her hand grabs his wrist as they leave Mindy’s. He says nothing as Tahani and Jason continue to walk on ahead.

He turns around.

“Listen...about last night.” Eleanor looks up at him, taking a deep breath. He can see that she’s slept very little between the few hours they took to rest up and prepare for this journey, “The whole....trust issue dealy. I just wanted to say-.”

“It’s okay.” He raises his hand; “You don’t have to apologise.”

She blinks at him.

“Uhmm...Good, because I wasn’t gonna.”

Michael’s mouth forms a silent ‘Oh’. Why had he been expecting that? 

“I meant what I said, dude. I don’t know if I can ever trust you.” She tells him, straight; “I believe that you’re Michael and not Vicky, you proved that much. But, like I told Tahani, even if it is you, I don’t fully trust you. You know why right?”

He swallows, looking down at his shoes; “The lying...I know.”

He doesn’t try to excuse himself anymore. It was bad. That’s all there is.

“Not just the lying but the lying about the lying!” She berates him; “It has to stop! And don’t get me wrong, the whole offering to sacrifice yourself thing, that’s done you credit. I need you to keep that shirt up. I need to be sure that you understand how important this whole show we got going on is. Whole of humanity is riding on us beating Shawn and those goons. It’s more important for us to win this than worrying about just any one of us. Got it?”

He nods. Of course he’s got it. Does she still consider him a liability? Would she have preferred it if Jason hadn’t interrupted his attempt earlier?

No, he tries to reassure himself. She’s not being mean. She’s being a leader.

And she’s right.

“Got it, Boss.” He tells her, quietly, the shame still burrowing deep in his chest.

She gives him a small smile and bumps his arm with her first; “There! Glad we got that settled. Look, I just want my partner in running-fake-Heaven back at my side is all. Not hiding things from me or putting me through crab like you did last night.”

“I understand. I’m sorry.” Was he unreasonable to hope for an apology back?

He’ll never understand what it means to be human, he realises sadly.

“Apology accepted. Now go bring back our favorite not-a-robot or I’ll be demoting you to my personal shrimp-serving butler.” She teases with a twinkle in her eye as they continue their walk to the train station.

Michael laughs to himself, spluttering droplets of blood from his encased tongue, as her words ring in his ears. He hopes they win. He hopes he gets to see his friends one last time before they go to the Good Place, the real one, and he’s sent to...wherever. Hopefully somewhere nicer than here.

The more time passes, the more he’s beaten and scalded and whipped, the more he knows Janet has obeyed his request. They haven’t gone to the Judge. They’re carrying on the experiment, best as they can, with Chidi as their best chance to succeed as one of the subjects. He hears Shawn muttering one time about the train tunnel having mysteriously caved in.

Well done, Janet, old friend. Or was it Jason with his last molotov?

He knows they can do it without him. He believes in nothing else in this world except his incredible friends and their ability to save the forking world. 

They don’t need him...They have each other. And Eleanor.

His girl from Arizona. The only one who can take charge of this. The one who knows what is at stake and what needs to be done. There’s an odd tightness in his chest, which may be from where his fake ribs were crushed earlier, but may be something else. He can’t deny it...He misses being at her side, he misses watching her take charge, of being on her ‘team’, her...partner. Fork it, he doesn’t want to be sad about it. He doesn’t want to...

It’s his own fault that’s over. You ruined everything, y’know that?

“You’re thinking of her, aren’t you? Your favorite yellow cockroach.” Shawn whispers, appearing as a blur in the corner of his distorted eyesight; “Funny how they haven’t come for you. You and that idiot came for your Good Janet. But their own pet demon? So much for human friendship, huh.”

He closes his eyes tight. He doesn’t...want them to come.

His hair is grabbed, head pulled back, a small block of freezing ice pressed against his stomach. He moans into the wires. His natural fire-element essence is violently reacting to the cold. It’s worse than a thousand volts of electricity. 

“They left you, Mikey. They abandoned you to us.”

N-no...He chose to stay....He made them g-g-go...

“And don’t get me wrong, the whole offering to sacrifice yourself thing, that’s done you credit. I need you to keep that shirt up...”

And he did.

“It’s more important for us to win this than having to worry about just any one of us. Got it?”

Got it.

That’s why they haven’t come. They can’t throw away the progress they’ve made just to save him. They need to see it through till the end now. That’s all it is. Eleanor understands, he’s sure of it...It’s not because they don’t care...

The chill seeps into him. He feels parts of his goo crystalize sharply.

“I don’t think I can ever trust you.”

“Why don’t we just lock you up in Janet’s void?”

“Get out of here. You don’t get to be part of this.”

As the agony shoots through him, he blinks and he sees her. Staring at him. Uncertain, afraid, but silent. Complicit in his fate, if it’s for the greater good. No longer hers to worry about. No longer a distraction from what’s truly important - would she react the same if it was Chi-? No, stop it! Don’t! 

Shawn moves away with the ice block and Michael sags against the stake.

“Ahh...Would you look at that.”

A finger reaches out to graze Michael’s cheek, picking off a tiny frozen droplet on his cheek. Fork. How long had he been crying? He didn’t want to give them that satisfaction!

Shawn puts it between his lips and smiles; “Mmmm, not bad. Not as salty as human tears. Let’s see if I can get you to fill my glass.”

Michael glares at him now, shaking roughly. Shame quickly simmers into a flash of rage before his old boss slams the ice block against him again. He screams.

Fork, fork, fork. This has to be worth it.

If it’s the only way he can prove, without a doubt, he’s on their side...That he wants nothing but to be worthy to be her ‘partner’ again...To be wanted...Forgiven?

Win, you guys. If he can ask for nothing else, do this for him. Please, damn it...Win.

[amvhel]

hello hello, 

I have tried to do this like 3 times but tumblr has made it so incredibly difficult after deleting it the first time round but here we go again. 

Anyhoo, I was inspired a few weeks back by the stardust prompt on one of the Dicckory or Robstar weeks. I haven’t seen anything other than the Titans on Netflix nor have I read any of the comics so I based the characters off that and that alone. 

This is also my first fanfic I’ve ever written and my first time writing at all in well over a year so please bare with me, I’ve tried to do the best I can aha 

Please enjoy and let me know if you do! Thanks! 

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

Kory stared absentmindedly at her remarkably strong sangria, observing as the legs slowly tumbled down the glass, mimicking the atmosphere. Slow and lackadaisical. With arms crossed on the table and her head laid atop them, she looked on as the rooftop terrace lights reflected in the glass, creating a second moon which rippled in the scarlet liquid. The sounds of the live band playing in the downstairs bar drifted up and saturated the air around her. 

Unsurprisingly, the alcohol had begun to take effect which meant that her usually adept responses were failing her and the only things permeating her concentration were the flat notes of the tune. So when the song transitioned into an acoustic rendition of a Frankie Valli song that Gar had shown her previously, she felt a spark of irritation. Feeling as if it were a mocking mirror to her melancholic mood. She listened on as the tenor voice sang of yearning and amorous desire and felt her annoyance rise with each following lyric. 

Despite everything around her imploring her to relax, Kory could find no such relief. The events of the past few weeks constantly running a relay in her mind. Black shadows passing one worrying thought to another, again and again. The events with Rachel and her family, dealing with her absent identity and processing a myriad of emotions, some of which were only being made worse by the current love song. Safe to say that her sanity was being stretched relatively thin. 

She had previously been grateful for her inhumanely high internal temperature which meant that she was alone in this open space (thanks to the frosty Chicago weather). However, now she could do nothing but hyperfixate on each and every one of her issues with nothing to distract her. With each tendril of anxiety expanding, she felt her heartbeat thud twice as hard in her chest coupled with the crippling swell of fear. Struggling to slow her rapidly rising panic, she lifted her head and took a deep breath in an effort to calm down and all she saw was sky. 

And the sky stared back.

Filled with gleaming stars reflecting against each other, it oddly gave her a sense of comfort. As if they were calling to her, a connection she requited but couldn’t quite explain why. She took another breath and mulled over whatever lay in the vast expanse that was space. The wonder coating her mind like stardust. 

‘You’ve been gone for a while.’ 

Dick’s voice pierced through the heady cloud currently enveloping her, his surprise entrance causing her head to snap towards him, spiking up her heart rate.  

She surveyed him through hooded eyes as his silhouette became illuminated by the overhead lights, the glare of the bulbs causing the honey highlights to dance through the dark waves in his hair. 

He slumped into the seat across from her with a deflated sigh and flashed her a tentative smile. She already knew the question he was going to pose by the change on his face and knew she absolutely was not ready to answer it. Not honestly at least. 

‘Are you okay?’ His smile had faded and he looked at her with intense and anxious eyes. 

‘I-’ She faltered with a sharp exhale. She wanted to answer honestly but not really knowing how to balance her feelings with her pride. ‘I don’t know.’ 

He stared at her for a moment longer, his brows furrowing together. ‘What do you mean you don’t know?’ 

‘I mean just that. I don’t know.’ She replied. ‘All of this- it’s so much. I want to enjoy this time, you know? We’re all okay, I s-should be happy. But everything we’ve been through and everything we’ve still got to...it’s s-so much to think about. It’s too much to think about.’ She winced when she heard the slight slur in her voice. Irked that her altered state was betraying her desire to conceal her vulnerability, and was instead throwing any glimpse of pride to the wind. 

Dick’s face had morphed into a full on frown at this point, scanning her face with impotent concern. ‘Look, I-I know this is tough but we’ll figure it out. We’re in this together.’ 

His words were met with an indignant snort before Kory turned her head away from him to stare at the glimmering skyline of the Chicago night. ‘I wonder if you realise how ironic that sounds.’ 

Dick felt a flash of irritation then, one he knew he had no right to feel. But it was promptly followed a deep shame, shame that he wished he would have felt earlier and maybe if he had, he would have been too ashamed of these exact consequences to leave in the first place. He knew she had every right to call him out on his bullshit but it didn’t hurt any less to have her do it; especially when he felt he was doing the best he could. 

He swallowed the negative emotions and tried instead to focus on how she might be feeling. It was made easier to know that most her issues mirrored his own internal turmoil. Trying to process a missing identity, the trauma of what they’d been through, along with many other things. Only her identity issues were so much deeper, so deep that they were literally out of this world. He got that it was all relative but with how much she’d been there for him in the past few weeks, it was up to him to finally step up. 

‘Hey.’ He whispered gently, placing a hand placed on top of hers, causing her to turn back to him. ‘I know I’ve let you down before. I’m sorry. It’s stupid of me at this point to try and deny that I care about you. I do care about you. All of you. It just- it took me a while to get to the conclusion that I could care about you and be around you at the same time.’ He admitted. 

‘Now it’s time to tell me what you mean.’ Kory responded pointedly, assessing him to such an extent that he’d never felt a stronger urge to scuffle out of the situation as quick as he could. He couldn’t remember a time he felt more uncomfortable, even with all the difficult situations he’d found himself in with Bruce Wayne as a guardian.

‘It’s just that I never thought I would be in a position that I would - that I even could - care about the people around me the way that I do about you guys. It just, I don’t know, startled me is all. I was scared that I would mess it up. It was easier to disappoint you guys once rather than to stick around and keep disappointing you.’ He admitted, feeling oddly emotionally lighter despite his trepidation. 

Kory shifted her eyes to the table and stared at it so long that Dick thought she wasn’t going to answer. But then she moved her view back to his pensive, brown orbs before gripping the hand on top of hers with a squeeze then swiftly letting go. The small but tender gesture caused his heart to go into overdrive which was only made worse by her following words. 

‘Thank you for being honest with me.’ She finally acknowledged, lifting her head backwards once more to gaze at the stars. ‘I care about you too. More than you know.’ 

‘More than I know?’ He repeated incredulously, completely caught off guard by her reply. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ 

Kory did not respond and despite her common sense being compromised by the pools of alcohol that were still swimming through her system, she knew that it was not time to let the depth of her feelings be known. Especially with someone who seemed unlikely to be explicit with their own emotions.  

So, instead of replying, Kory stood and purposefully made her way to the edge of the terrace, leaning over the railings and peering at the busy street below. 

Dick was hot on her heels, the irrational fear of her stumbling over the edge plaguing his thoughts in spite of his knowledge of her expert agility. He caught up quickly and stood facing her, still reeling from her semi-confession but alert, in case she really did go over the railings. 

‘Kory, what do you mean?’ He asked touching her arm, the urgency for her response seeped through his voice against his own wishes.  

‘It doesn’t matter.’ 

‘It does matter. Please.’ 

There is such a prolonged silence that Dick thought she wouldn’t give him an answer and he feared she would walk out of here, forget about this and he would never hear what she had say.   

Eventually, Kory turned, parallel to him and stepped closer, the aura around them changed completely thanks to the spark in her eye. 

Shifting to something electric and magnetic. 

Dick swallowed the boulder in his throat, suddenly feeling like he was the one who was intoxicated after only 2 beers. Completely inebriated by her. 

Kory leaned forward, enthralling him by the swipe of her tongue on her bottom lip. The craving to capture it between his own lips engulfed Dick and he fought to shake it off. 

‘What do you think it means, Dick?’ Her voice had dropped an octave, sending prickles of heat rippling across his skin.  

He attempted to clear his throat before answering, redundantly hoping it would also clear his head. ‘I’m sure I asked you first, Kory.’ 

But Kory moved closer, muddling his brain even further, with their chests now touching, his heart was beating so fast he was positive he would go into cardiac arrest very soon. 

‘This is your MO, isn’t it? Avoid talking about your emotions by deflecting then bridging the distraction with…’ Again, she moved closer. Lifting her hands to slide across his shoulders and sift through his hair. 

It took a colossal amount of strength for Dick to hold his eyelids back from fluttering closed, her fingers doing things to the back of his neck that had him wishing they were alone in a hotel room, not with his surrogate sister and 2 teens downstairs. His hands lifted to her waist in an attempt to achor himself but the feel of her under his hands only made things worse.

Flashbacks to the last time they were alone in a motel room flooded his mind. The feel of her skin on his, his weight crushing her on the soft surface of the mattress, her weight on top of him sliding across his lap. Dick tried desperately to filter through his thoughts to get back to the coherent part of his cognition and found she was right. 

Anytime they had been intimate, he’d been too scared to process the fear he felt from their connection and instead used sex as a way out or had, as per the last time, literally run away.  This time it was his responsibility to lead by way of example in order to get what he wanted. 

‘Now I’m not trying to say that you’re wrong but you did just thank me for being open and honest so how right can you be? Maybe I’ve changed.’ Dick attempted to be lighthearted, despite not feeling that way whatsoever. ‘Don’t you think I deserve some honesty from you?’ 

Much to his delight, Kory leaned her head on his shoulder and let out a breathy chuckle. Though the intensity of the situation hadn’t necessarily lessened, the tension had somewhat depreciated. 

‘I guess you’re right, as much as I don’t want to admit it.’ Kory relented, pulling back so she could look him in the eye. ‘I feel something here, Dick. Something deep between us but I want to know I’m not the only one who feels it, that I’m not crazy and imagining things.’ The shimmer in her eyes validating her confession, leaving Dick breathless with shock. 

The idea of Kory feeling a fraction of what he felt for her sent his heart melting and his soul soaring out of his body. As short as the time was that he’d known her, Kory had turned him upside down and inside out. She had made him deal with things he didn’t even know he needed to deal with. Her light had been so exuberant that it had reflected on him, allowing him to exist as the moon to her sun. It was no wonder that he fell so hard so quickly. 

As she spoke, it was clear that Dick had hidden this well. Unsure as to why really. Fear of hurting her, of her hurting him, of them hurting each other. Who knew what excuse his brain had rationalised his emotional constipation with this time. 

However, with Kory here now, vulnerable and honest, he felt every emotion he’d tried to repress flood to the surface, completely overwhelming him and terrifying him at the same time. His hands tightened on her waist pulling her closer to him so he could rest his forehead on hers, the action causing her breath to hitch in her throat. 

‘Kory I- of course you’re not imagining things.’ He spoke through his fear, determined to be as bare with her as she had been with him. ‘How could I not feel it? You push me to be better, being with you gives me a sense of peace that no one else ever has. I’m in awe of you every single moment of every day. I’m sorry that I’ve made you doubt it but it’s all new and honestly terrifying. But I do feel this Kory, whatever it is and I want to see where it goes.’ 

Kory’s eyes had softened considerably by the end of his declaration, completely moved by his words. Catching them both off guard she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his as if her body responded to the words before her brain did. Both of their arms tightening around each other in an effort to get as close as possible. 

‘Hey you guys are missing it, Gar and Donna are going to do Kara-oh! Whoops.’ 

Dick and Kory immediately broke apart to see a very nonplussed and very discomforted Rachel. 

‘Nevermind, you guys are clearly busy,’ She muttered before scuttling her way back down the stairs. 

The two adults shared a glance, smiling with slight embarrassment before Dick held out a hand. ‘Shall we?’ 

Kory responded by slipping her hand into his, threading her fingers through his own before pulling him in the direction of the stairs. 

Both of their hearts fuller than when they’d come up there.

[metalbatandzenko]

All of them. All the questions.

oof

1. Do You Sleep With Your Closet Doors Open Or Closed?

I have sliding doors on my closet so it’s one open one closed.

2. Do You Have Freckles?

Nope!

3. Can You Whistle?

Nope (:

4. Last Song You Listened To.

I...don’t remember lmao, I think it was 6 Inch by Beyonce

5. What Is Your Favorite Color?

I don’t know if I have one tbh.

6. Relationship Status.

Currently juggling seven reply guys bc rona has everyone acting out of line, but single.

7. What Is The Temperature Right Now?

46º

8. Did You Wake Up Cranky?

Yes sdkjfhdlkf

9. How Many Followers?

215.

10. Zodiac Sign.

Aries/Aries/Cancer.

11. What Is Your Eye Color?

Brown.

12. Take A Vitamin Daily?

No.

13. Do You Sing In The Shower?

Yes, usually it’s Mitski or songs from musicals because you know. Former theater kid.

14. What Books Are You Reading?

The Chronology of Water by Lidia Yuknavitch.

15. Grab The Book Nearest To You, Turn To Page 64, Give Me Line 14.

“As in earlier days” from the poem The Walk by Thomas Hardy

16. Favorite Anime?

OPM is the only anime I watch. Being Japanese American and fem aligned means having. Not great associations with anime tbh.

17. Last Person You Cried In Front Of?

I honestly can’t remember the last time I cried in front of someone

WAIT YES I DO

It was November 23rd and my little cousin and I watched Over the Garden Wall. Both of us cried at the end.

18. Do You Collect Anything?

I have a knife collection and an old rock collection from when I was younger. I also unintentionally have a major makeup collection. My lipstick collection is borderline embarrassing. In my defense it started in 7th grade.

19. What Did You Have For Lunch?

I uh. I didn’t have lunch skfjhdsljfh

20. Do You Dance In The Car?

I do!

21. Favorite Animal?

Dude I fucking love crows.

22. Do You Watch The Olympics?

Some of them! My mom was really athletic growing up (as in one of those kids that plays a sport every season in high school), so she watches a lot of them. We tend to watch figure skating (which I know little about but have strong opinions on), gymnastics, synchronized swimming, track, and judo.

23. What Time Do You Usually Go To Bed?

Usually I’m in bed by 11 but I don’t go to sleep until 2am. Recently I’ve been getting to sleep at 7am.

24. Are You Wearing Makeup Right Now?

It is currently three in the morning so no akslkjsahd

25. Do You Prefer To Swim In A Pool Or The Ocean?

Ocean. I grew up in Northern California near the coast, and now I’m in a landlocked state. And you can kind of feel it, you know? The air doesn’t smell like salt and redwoods, the mountains aren’t there to hold up the sky so you just feel it pressing down on your chest. I miss the ocean.

26. Favorite Tumblr Blog?

I don’t know if I have a favorite. erikkillmongerdontpullout is funny and insightful, and I love dostoevskydocs’ poetry compilations.

27. Bottled Water Or Tap Water?

I grew up somewhere with access to really good tap water, so I’ll go with that.

28. What Makes You Happy?

Writing, spending time with friends, the feeling of dappled sunlight through the tree canopy.

29. Post A Gif Of What You’re Currently Feeling Right Now.

30. Do You Study Better With Or Without Music?

With :)

31. Dogs Or Cats?

Dogs but I love cats too!

32. If You Were A Crayon What Color Would You Be?

Moss green!

33. PlayStation Or Xbox.

Xbox.

34. Would You Swim In The Lake Or Ocean?

Ocean. I don’t trust lakes.

35. Do You Believe In Magic?

I believe in the supernatural, I don’t know if magic’s the right word. It’s more like a belief that there’s something more to the world than what we’re able to perceive. 

36. What Color Shirt Are You Wearing?

Charcoal grey.

37. Can You Curl Your Tongue?

Yes! I can also make my tongue into a clover.

38. Do You Save Money Or Spend It?

A bit of both. I can be pretty frugal when I’m by myself but I inherited the need to pay for everything for my friends from my mom, so if my friends are around, I will try to muscle my way into paying for everything. This is usually unsuccessful bc my friends are in the same boat.

39. Is There Anything Pink Within 10 Feet Of You?

Yes. I’ve got a pink water bottle on my bedstand.

40. Do You Have Any Obsessions Right Now?

I mean. OPM lkjshdflkjdh I’ve been hyperfixating on it, but I also am pretty obsessed with OTGW (I have been for years).

41. Have You Ever Caught A Butterfly?

No but I’ve had a few land on me.

42. Are You Easily Influenced By Other People?

Depends on the person. Overall, I’d say no, but my friends have significant sway over me.

43. Do You Have Strange Dreams?

Yes.

44. Do You Like Going On Airplanes?

I actually do. But only for short flights. Anything longer than 4 hours makes my body really hurt.

45. Name One Movie That Made You Cry.

Moana.

46. Peanuts Or Sunflower Seeds?

Sunflower seeds!

47. If I Handed You A Concert Ticket Right Now, Who Would You Want The Performer To Be?

Orville Peck or Carseat Headrest.

48. Are You A Picky Eater?

Nope!

49. Are You A Heavy Sleeper?

Yeah.

50. Do You Fear Thunder/Lightning?

No, I actually love them. I sleep best when it’s thundering.

51. Do You Like To Read/Write?

Yes to both. I’m a Creative Writing major so dkljfhljkdf

52. Do You Like Your Music Loud?

Yeah! Though not as loud as some people, my ears are sensitive.

53. Would You Rather Carve Pumpkins Or Wrap Presents?

Wrap presents. I’m not a big fan of the smell of pumpkin, and wrapping presents is a tradition for my mom, brother and I. We’d put on some music, drink some hot chocolate, and wrap as many as possible. Then my brother and I would smuggle some wrapping paper to our rooms and wrap our mom’s gift.

54. Put Your Music On Shuffle, What Is The First Song That Came Up?

Somebody that I Used to Know-Gotye (listen the song still slaps)

55. What Season Are You In Right Now? (Weather)

Winter/Spring transition. It hailed for 15 minutes straight yesterday.

56. What Are You Craving Right Now?

A popeyes 5 piece spicy chicken meal with fries and ranch. Can you tell I’ve thought about this?

57. Post A Screenshot Of Your Tumblr Feed.

I don’t wanna.

58. What Is Your Gender?

Nonbinary, but vaguely girl adjacent. 

59. Coffee Or Tea?

I think coffee. I drink more tea, but I also drink exclusively green tea and chai (like the traditional chai made with milk not the chai teabags) and I really am not a black/white/earl grey tea person.

60. Do You Have Any Homework Right Now? If So, What Is It About?

OOF Yeah I do

I’ve got a thousand word readers response to “The Other Boat” by E. M. Foster, a one thousand word journal about WWI, a reflective journal check in and a powerpoint I have to make for Sense and Sensibility for Brit Lit and I also am tutoring a few of my classmates

In my biological anthropology class I’ve got a Unit Exam and a few lectures to watch

For my internship/Teachers Assistant position I’ve got 17 10 page rough drafts to read and give in depth comments on as well as a portfolio I have to assemble for next year’s TA bc I’m transferring, phone meetings with the 17 students who wrote those rough drafts, and I’ve gotta compile some resources for my professor

I need to finish my memoir for my independent study and I have to present. my nonfiction memoir. to my classmates. on Zoom. I’m one of two people doing a nonfiction memoir for their independent study the rest are doing fiction, poetry or a literary analysis paper so like. My classmates are gonna be talking about their fiction piece and then I’m gonna be giving a 15 minute reading and Q&A about a piece that focuses on my trauma and being hate crimed so that’s fun.

I also gotta get some stuff done for my school’s lit magazine.

61. What Is Your Sexuality?

A known bisexual™

62. Do You Make Your Bed In The Morning?

I try to but I forget.

63. Favorite Pokémon?

Togepi, Blissey and Togekiss.

64. Favorite Social Media?

I hate to say it but it’s tumblr.

65. What’s Your Opinion On Instagram Stories?

If it’s longer than six stories, I’m not watching it. Unless I know they’re gonna be fun or we’re really close then I will.

66. Do You Get Homesick?

A bit. I’m still really homesick for my hometown tbh because that’s where all my family except for my parents are. I’m really close with my extended family, so being isolated from them feels like there’s an emptiness at my side.

67. Are You A Virgin?

No.

68. What Shampoo And Conditioner Are You Using Right Now?

Redken Frizz Dismiss. I got those big fucking bottles you can get at Ulta where it’s like a gallon of shampoo so I haven’t had to buy any in over a year.

69. If You Were Far From Home And Needed To Sleep For The Night, Would You Choose To Rent A Crappy Motel Room For $60 Or Sleep In Your Car For Free?

I’ve slept in my car before and I will do so again most likely. Also $60 is too much to spend for a motel room.

70. Are Both Of Your Blood Parents Still In Your Life?

Yes. Though I’m much closer to my mom than my dad.

71. Whats The Next Movie You Want To See In Theaters?

Idk shit about movies tbh.

72. Do You Miss Your Ex?

One of them yes, the others no. But the one I miss I also acknowledge is someone who had their place in my life at the time and helped me through some rough shit, but no longer has a place in my life. I appreciate the hell out of him though, and we’re on good terms.

73. What Is Your Favorite Quote Right Now?

I’ve got two!

“I don’t know how to stay tender with this much blood in my mouth” –Ophelia, Hamlet

and

"Suffering feels religious if you do it right." –Chelsea Hodson

74.  What Eye Color Do You Find Sexiest?

Brown. Especially the almost black-brown eyes.

75. Did You Like Swinging As A Child? Do You Still Get Excited When You See A Swing Set?

Yes to both.

76. What Was The Last Thing You Ate?

Chocolate covered pretzels ljhflfsd

77. What Games Do You Have On Your Phone?

Toon Blast and 2048.

78. Would You Give A Homeless Person CPR If They Were Dying? Why Or Why Not?

Holy shit I hate this question. Yes, of course I would. I don’t know why mentioning that the person is homeless is relevant. Homeless people are not somehow less worthy of CPR?? What the fuck.

79. Been On The Computer For 5 Hours Straight?

...yes

80. Stalked Someone On A Social Network?

I’ve briefly skimmed over someone’s page after meeting them but I don’t lurk.

81. Do You Like Meeting New People?

Depends on my mood.

82. Do You Wear Rings? If You Do, Take A Picture Of Them.

I hate my hands so this was pushing it.

83. Do You Sleep With Your Bedroom Door Open Or Closed?

Closed.

84. What Are Three Things You Did Today?

Corrected papers, walked my dog, did some writing.

85. What Do You Wear To Bed?

T-shirt and shorts.

86. List All Of Your Different Beauty Products You Have Right Now.

Dude I can’t do that I have too many, I’ve been buying makeup for 7 years and I used to work next to a sephora

My makeup routine pre-rona was:

Sephora brand moisturizer

Milk Hydrogrip primer

Fenty Pro Filtr Hydrating Foundation

Maybelline Age Rewind Concealer

Anastasia Brow Definer

Glossier Cloud Paint

Fenty Sunstalkr Bronzer

Fenty Liquid Flyliner

Fenty Flypencil

Fenty Full Frontal Mascara

Fenty Glossbomb

It’s...an expensive routine.

87. Are You A Day Or Night Person?

Night to early morning.

88. List All Of Your Video Games On Your Phone, Console Etc.

I answered this one and I don’t want to reanswer it tbh ldkjfhds

89. Tell Me About A Dream That You Had And When It Happened.

I genuinely can’t remember any of my dreams right now. I remember a snippet of one where I was in a cave and I looked at the wall and I could see water running down it, reflecting in the torchlight but that’s literally it.

90. Favorite Soda Drink?

I’m a big pomegranate person, so Italian soda’s my go to.

91. What Sounds Are Your Favorite?

The sizzle of meat hitting a hot wok, rain, hail, thunder, the crunch of dry leaves. I also love the sound of Simone de Rochefort’s laugh. It’s so good.

92. Do You Wear Jeans Or Sweats More?

Jeans.

93. How Do You Look Right Now?

Shitty.

94. Name Something That Relaxes You.

Skyrim ldskjfhd

95. What Tattoo Do You Want?

I really want to get my family’s mon on my ribcage and my mom’s Japanese name somewhere. I don’t know how my pain tolerance is but if I can handle it, I’d want to get at least a partial sleeve.

96. Favorite YouTuber?

Polygon and Watcher.