#things turned kinda ugly real fast

[witheredgardenparty]

Grad school is it's midnight and I've resorting to hissing my mentor's name like a cuss in a mbmbam sketch

[charlesf1leclerc]

Summary- one day your whole world turns upside down and where will your lives go from here 

Warnings- Brest feeding , teen pregnancy, quotes and references to how to lose a guy in 10 days. Not proof read so let me know if major errors

A/N- please note this story is only for entertainment and not in anyway linked to what real life people mentioned in this story may do or how they may act! 

SERIES MASTERLIST

I sat in the back of mums car motionless as I looked at the little living thing sitting in the car seat next to me. I still couldn’t believe that this thing came out of me. She was a piece of me and… him. 

It’s also far worse because she’s not an ugly baby , so it’s even harder to not like her just a little. She was kinda cute with her little gurgles and the way she looked up at me like she didn’t care about anyone else.

Mums voice broke me out of my trance

“ so I got you some things, needed to stock up if she’s gonna be around for awhile” she spoke looking at me through the car mirror.

“Mum don’t tell me you went all out she’s not staying “

“ sweetie I think you really need to think about this, this is a big decision I want you to really think about this. I’m going to be here for you, you don’t have to worry about the support I want this to be your decision”

“ I just need time” I spoke

“ I know sweetie but I really think we should also involve the father , doesn’t he have a right to know”

“ leave it!” I groaned 

And she did. I knew this was a big decision and my daughter’s little face was not helping me. I also knew that her dad had a right to know, but how are you meant to tell a 17 year old he was a father. Particularly one you hadn’t spoken to since you slept with him. Like what should you say ‘hey long time no see…… so you’re now a daddy’

We had pulled up to the house and unbuckled myself along with removing the little things from the car. Once I arrived in my room I realised that it was actually no longer my room. 

My mum had brought a bassinet winch sat next to my bed, there was a changing table , boxes upon boxes of diapers, and a massive tub of clothes all pink or white.

Little dresses, little onesies , little socks ….. it’s all to much!

“ you happy?” I looked at the little baby in my arms

“ you have taken over my room and my life” I joked

I placed her down inside of the bassinet before going back down to the kitchen. But upon arrival I was met by loud screams, screams that made your body shiver.

How can one little things make that much noise?

My mum came running down the hallway

“ you can’t leave her alone y/n” she made her way into my room.

I slowly followed after her, stopping to lean against my door watching while she bounced my daughter in her arms. 

“ I think she’s hungry “ she looked at me

So feed her I thought….. until I realised.

“No way I’m not doing that”

“ you have to, it’s part of being her mother”

My mum urged

“ well how did they feed her at the hospital?” I asked

“ that was only because of the state you were in, but now you have to at least give It a try.” She looked longingly at me .

“ I promise it’s not as bad as you think”

I really didn’t like the thought of it.  But I really didn’t like the sound of her cries either.

So I walked over and sat on the edge of my bed

“ well tell me what to do then” I sighed

I unbuttoned the buttons on my shirt until I was left exposed. 

“ here hold her like they showed you in the hospital” my mum placed her in my arms.

“ now face her to your chest and place her level to it.” I did as she told me.

“ then touch it to her lip and she what she does” I slowly did so adjusting her hoping she would latch and like magic she did.

“ wow she’s a fast learner you didn’t latch that fast” my mum laughed 

It felt weird like something I had never felt before. But I wasn’t grossed out, I was kind of in awe at the fact my body could do this.

My mum looked up at me “ you’ll need to name her you know, we can’t keep calling her , her” 

Naming her felt very personal, it felt like something I could only do if I was keeping her, but I knew mum was right. 

“Ok but it’s only temporary you know ” I nodded back at her

My mum only smiled before leaving the room, leaving me with my daughter attached to my chest. There’s nothing bad about her she’s so perfect and she’s mine. But I knew I couldn’t want her.

———————————————————————

It was now far later in the day I sat in my bed, all the lights off my room now only illuminated by the TV. Next to me lay my daughter in her bassinet staring at the ceiling.

I scrolled through looking for something to watch because there was no way I was ready to sleep yet. Eventually I decided on my all time favourite , the classic ‘ How to lose a guy in 10 days’.

As the movie began to play I noticed the movement of my daughter in the bassinet and her quiet gurgles which were now growing louder and louder.

Sighing I sat up and looked into the bassinet.

“ hey what’s wrong?” I whispered leaning and picking her up holding her in my arms.

“ what’s wrong huh?” I slowly began to sway her in my arms, until eventually she calmed down and just stayed gazing up at me.  

She really did make me feel soft, I have never felt such mixed feelings for a person before. 

“Hmm I guess you really do need a name , don’t you?” I smiled at her , stroking her check

“ let’s see, Emma?” I suggested like she was going to reply

“ No… Lola? “ I suggested again. She dosent look like a Lola

“ Andie it’s brilliant “ the TV spoke as the movie continued to play. I looked at the TV and then down at the baby in my hands

“ Andie” 

“Andie, you like that baby” I smiled at her. To me it was perfect my favourite character and my little girl having the same name.

“ I think we just found your name” I grinned. How could something be so beautiful and so prefect. It began to make me think maybe this could work, maybe I could do this, maybe I wanted to do this….. I want to do this.

I lifted myself off the bed still with Andie in my arms walking toward the door of my mums room. She sat in bed reading her book with the night light illuminating her room.

She looked up at me as I walked in putting her book down for a second.

“ Andie, I named her Andie” I smiled moving to sit in the bed next to her.

“ oh it’s beautiful” she looked down to stroke Andies head. “ it suits her” she pulled my head closer and kissed the top of it.

“ Mum” I whispered 

“ hmm “ she hummed still looking at her granddaughter 

“ I think I want to keep her” her head rose and she looked at me 

“ you do?”

“ yeah I think I do, if I have you i think I’ll be fine”

“ of course you have me” she smiled. “ you’re going to be a amazing mum “ she pulled us both closer towards her.

———————————————————————

I had decided to go back to my room and finish the film. Andie settlers in her bassinet, my mum asleep and just me in the dark. Before my phone vibrates on the night stand and the light fills the room.

I groan leaning over to see what’s on my screen. But become frozen as I see the message before me.

Lando Norris ( don’t message ) 

Can we talk ?

typing………

Please?

A/N- SO SORRY if you don’t like the name! You can just change it in your head, hope that’s ok.

Taglist:@barcelonaloverf1life@harrysdimple05@hc-dutch@formula1mount@itsbwokenln4 @phantomxoxo @dorothea47 @emmaweasley @joannamuns9n @alexisquinnlee-bc @g3org1al33 @ladyoflynx @dr3wstarkey @lewishamiltonismybf @janeh22

[nats-revival]

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 | 𝙚. 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙢𝙨

pairing: nepo baby!business owner!ellie williams x afab!business owner!reader

tags: smut, fingering (r receiving), pet names/name calling?? (dirty girl, pretty, good girl, baby), slight praise??, god why is tagging so hard, mild language, unethical business practices??, thoughts are green, ellie lowk an asshole, but both reader and ellie are pretty harsh to eachother, maybe that’s it, bare with me if i forget something pls. 😭🙏

a/n: i wrote this directly on tumblr bc i did NAWT feel like pulling up google docs today saur the format might be a lil off. i was watching this show on netflix called ‘locked up’, and like an episode from season two is what inspired this!!! 😜 the show is good honestly it just drags on sometimes!!! ive actually never actually written smut any times before this (believe it or not hehe) anyways, let’s get into it!!!

P.S - DEDICATED TO @sweetysaccharine YAWP YAWP!!!! <333 HOPE U ENJOY POOKIEEEE

P.P.S - don’t look at the typos or i will find you (IM JOKING)

rumors traveled fast, and sometimes it wasn’t always good. for one, they could be infuriating. a company you’d been toe to toe with for.. quite some time had gotten a new ceo. some young girl. articles appeared online about some kinda nepotism scandal. the photo on the top of the article displayed a photo of the previous ceo — joel miller, and the new owner, ellie. they looked happy. but why were they accused of something as harmful as nepotism? long story short, joel turned his brother down for the position (even though he was the better option) so ellie could have it. favoritism of sorts. but god was she infuriating! her stupid, flashy displays of wealth (that probably didn’t even belong to her) made you so mad! and also, her arrogance and her constant need to compete with you was very infuriating aswell. you had influence, she had money. wouldn’t these things be considered as a double kill in some perfect world? yes. would you ever even consider working with someone like her? absolutely not. you couldn’t even stand being in the same vicinity as her whenever you two ended up at the same social events.

imagine that terrible, ugly feeling of anger that coursed hot through your veins once finding out she’d brought possibly one of the biggest clients you could’ve ever had. it was one thing for her to shove it in your face that she was wealthy but this? she’d completely overstepped. storming your way through the companies large building, you find yourself at her offices door knocking like a madwoman. “open the goddamn door, williams!” you yell as you attempt to open the door on your own. she doesn’t say anything, but you’re just almost certain she’s smirking or something. she opens the door with this.. look. it was weird. a perfect mixture of condescending, arrogance, and ‘i know what i did and i don’t regret it’. “are you insane?” “mm.. yeah. i guess so.” you laugh, dumbfounded by her. “how bout you come into my office for a seat and a drink?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “let’s handle this civilly, shall we? knowing you, i have the feeling that this could get real ugly.” she pushed open the door with that same condescending/arrogant smile. of course, reluctantly, you walk inside. maybe this could be resolved civilly.

the sound of some smooth music played. it sounded like micheal buble or something. she walks around her desk to pour you a glass of bourbon. she hands it to and you just hold it. “it’s not poisoned, see?” she says before taking a sip. you take a sip and of it before putting the glass on her desk. “so, i realized that.. i have something you want.” the something being that client. “why else would i be here? that was a really petty move and you know that.” she chuckled. “yknow, i could just.. refer them back to you.” initially, you’re in disbelief. ellie? being generous? no way. she must’ve completely lost it. “but! it comes with a price.” of course it does. nothing was free, not in this economy. you kept your expectations low for this very reason. you raise an eyebrow at her. “we could work together. become business partners.”

she turns her music up a little. she dances her way over to you, circling you a bit. “no chance, ellie. how could i ever work with someone like you?” she chuckled again. “why wouldn’t you work with ‘someone like me’? you have something that i want aswell.” “what?” “power. influence. however you may wanna word it. i admire that.” it had to be some sick joke. why would she wanna work with you? “shouldn’t all your daddys money be more than enough to keep you in a position of power?” you quarry, then crossing your arms. a part of you didn’t believe that she’d been the one asking you for help.

“just think about it. me, giving you money. you, drawing power hungry clients in with that pretty face of yours. we’d work together like yin and yang.” she proposed before taking another sip of the drink in her glass. that was her giving a go at an analogy. was it good? she didn’t know. did she care? not at all. “you bullshitting me, williams?” “not at all. all you gotta do.. is say ‘yes’. cmon.” she offers her hand, those pretty slender fingers and that tattoo that peeking from underneath that black button up shirt were just so.. enticing. you were in your head, just thinking. was this a good idea? could i trust her? she probably has bad intentions. but she was so tempting. this had to be one of the seven deadly sins or something.

she snaps infront of your face. “where’d you go?” she asks. “nowhere.” you respond quickly. “so, you taking the offer or not? or.. will i have to convince you?” she takes a step closer to you. temptation taints your brain.

you’re not in control of your thoughts anymore. ellie was.

her hand seeks solace on your waist. “shouldn’t finding business like this be considered illegal?” you whisper to her. “im not a law abiding woman. and quite frankly, i don’t give two shits.” maybe it wouldn’t be illegal if nobody knew. but all you thought about was her. how she smells. how she’s looking at you. how her hands feel on your body. you can’t stop yourself. your lips crash down onto hers. your fingers tangle in her auburn hair as the both of you kiss passionately. she brings you to her desk, knocking stuff over as she sat you on her desk.

glass shattered, pictures were knocked out of their frames, and her computer mouse was.. somewhere. your back arches into her touch as you let out a soft moan into her mouth. she takes the opportunity to slide her tongue into your mouth. in the competition of dominance between your tongues, she reigns supreme. her hands slide up your body and end up on your oxford button up shirt. she doesn’t unbutton it, she rips that shit open. “i’ll get you a new one.” she mumbled as the buttons from the shirt scatter across the room.

“you’d better. or else id have to come back here and get it by force.” “oh please, you’ll be back here for more reasons than a goddamn shirt.” she said as she peppers kisses down to your jawline, then your neck. “don’t leave any marks.” “but why?” “oh, i dunno, cause i don’t want anyone asking me who i had sex with?” “who gives a shit? your workers get paid to look the other way, don’t they?”

well, she makes a good point. and you can’t argue with a point as valid as that. she sinks her teeth into a sweet spot of your neck, making you moan out as she runs her tongue along the new mark. she sticks her tongue out again to run it all the way down to one of your boobs. the sensation makes you shiver. “wore this pretty bra for me, didntcha? you were just expecting this. you must’ve wanted me to touch you like this, didn’t you? dirty girl. must’ve been waiting for me to bend you over this table.” she rambled all while stripping you of your bra, then leaving soft kisses and licks across the valley of your breasts.

she takes her time, making you wait for it. she knew what she was doing to you, and she was going to make you wait. “ellie, you’re going soo slow! you know what i want.” you whine as she leaves kisses and bites all over your exposed skin. “tell me what you want or you’ll get nothing. tell me where you want me.” she whispered. “i want your fingers.” “where?” “you know where.” “tell me or you get nothing.” you hesitate for a moment before saying feebly. “in.. in my pussy..” “that’s a good girl.”

she smiles as she pushes her hands into your slacks. she could feel your wetness. “i got you this worked up, huh? who knew little miss perfect could get this wet over me, a ‘nepo baby’?” she teased with a cocky smile. she slowly slides your slacks and underwear all the way down to your ankles before she applies a delicious amount of pressure to your clit. you gasp, your hand wrapping around her wrist. “oh, you like that do you, huh? you want more? fucking beg for it. cmon.” she applies more pressure to your clit, rubbing small and soft circles as her fingers ghost your sopping entrance. “oh— please ellie, i need more. give me more.” “gonna take more than that, baby.” you whine when she suddenly takes all that pressure away from you.

you let out another whine as you attempt to rut against her hand. her free hand slaps your thigh as she shakes her head in disapproval. “none of that. keep still. you get nothing until you beg like a good girl.” “please, please. ill do anything. just please touch me.” she chuckles at you. she found it cute how you were so desperate to chase that pleasure. “god, you’re so desperate. you need it so.. goddamn bad, don’t you?” she lets out a grunt in the middle of her sentence as she suddenly plunged into your pussy.

as she moves her fingers, she groans at how wet her you were. first she starts with middle finger, then adding her ring finger. her long fingers are hitting that sweet spot in you. she was making you see stars. “listen to yourself. look at ‘er, she’s crying for me.” she coos as she speeds her pace. you moan out. “watch me, baby.” you slowly look down at her fingers plunging in and out of you. sounds of wet squelching fill your ears. you bite your lip and you toss your head back as you let out a moan. you grind yourself down onto her fingers, chasing that wonderful and blissful orgasm.

you felt a pressure building up in your stomach. your eyes were fluttering open and shut. everytime you looked away, she stopped. you made sure to not look away. once that pressure in your stomach felt like it was gonna release, your moans became more broken. “ellie! ellie— oh fuck! ellie! im gonna cum! don’t stop, please don’t stop!” you say between moans as you bring your hand back down to hold her wrist in place.

“oh yeah? gonna cum? let go for me. make a mess on my fingers. cmon. i know you can do it.” she said as she kept her pace at that same one that was making you see stars. she’d been rambling something to you, talking you through it as she watched you cum all over her fingers. she helps you ride out your orgasm, a slight tremble in your legs becoming more apparent.

“what do we say?” “thank you.” she smiled as she pulled her fingers out. the sudden loss makes you whine. she sucks her fingers clean and you watch as her tongue runs across the length of her fingers. “still being a tease, williams?” you ask as you look at her while she does it. “mm.. well no, i dont think so. just savouring how good you taste.” when she was finally satisfied, she drops her hands. “so, you finally ready to stop being so stubborn and take the deal?” “not a chance if it means we get to have sex like this.” you respond with a chuckle. “maybe you need to be fucked again, hm?” she ask with a smile.

needless to say, you’d went another time, and on the third you fucked ellie. eventually you come to some sort of agreement after you’d been laid on her leather sofa, naked and feeling like you were floating. the only question you had now is what the hell had you gotten into. “will this turn into a scandal?” you ask. “.. probably not if we keep this under wraps.” she responds as she puts her head in the crook of your neck, pressing soft kisses to it. “plus, yknow i can just pay the media off right? they won’t say anything. not a peep.” she reassured as she smiled softly.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for S behind the cut; "from Andromeda to your eye". tw: internalized dehumanization; dehumanizing it/its pronouns. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

It wants to be saved, like it thinks it’s something worth that. It wants to be–it wants–it wants Superboy’s arms around it and Superboy’s lies in its ears and to never, ever have to go back to the Agenda, even though it knows there’s no way it’s really escaped the Agenda. Not for good. Not for real. 

The Agenda made it, and it isn’t something anyone would actually save. No one’s ever saved anything the Agenda made. 

It knows Superboy tried to, though.

But it still never should’ve come here. Never should’ve done this. Never should’ve come to Superboy like–like it really thought–like it really thinks– 

“C’mon, just–come with me, okay?” Superboy says, his voice all tight and twisted up.  It–understands that. Understands that Superboy needs to take it somewhere else. Somewhere with fewer staff around, where it can be secured until either Cadmus decides what to do with it or the Agenda comes and gets it. 

“I’m sorry,” it chokes again. The first thing it ever said was a lie to the security at the door; the first thing it ever really said was an apology to someone it never should’ve gone to. 

That apology’s still the only thing it’s ever really said. 

“It’s–fine,” Superboy says, his voice stiff. “I get it. It’s fine. Just–c’mon.” 

It nods, weak and useless, and Superboy stands up and pulls it up with him, and it tries to stop crying, and he wipes the tears off its face with the heel of his glove and it just cries harder, because why would he even bother to do that, why would he even care to, that’s–that’s– 

He should’ve thrown it out. Should’ve attacked it. Should–should just– 

He’ll lock it up. He’ll take it to a holding cell and lock it up and–and he won’t leave it there for good, it knows, not if . . . not if he can help it, anyway, but . . . 

But maybe he won’t be able to help it. 

It cries some more, and Superboy wipes the tears away from the underneath of its eyes with his thumbs. No one’s ever done that before. It’s never cried before either, but–still. No one’s ever touched its face or hugged it or lied to it over things no one else would ever even care to. 

No one’s ever done a lot of things, because the clone’s only existed for a few days, but those are things it wouldn’t have thought anyone ever would. 

“What do you want me to call you?” Superboy asks as he cups its face with one hand and its shoulder with the other. It sniffles, messy and ugly, and scrubs its own glove across its eyes. Of course he asked that, it thinks. Of course he asked that like that, it thinks. Not what’s your project designation? or what’s your name?; just what do you want?

Of course he asked like that. 

“‘Babe’,” it says, because that’s not what he calls Wonder Girl, and it’s much, much better than the idea of ever hearing its subject number in his voice. 

“Movin’ kinda fast there, babe,” Superboy replies with a crooked little grin, and it almost cries again. It thinks he’s–teasing it, maybe. Making a joke. Because he thinks it’s the kind of thing that could actually laugh or find something funny or . . . 

“Sorry,” it says, scrubbing uselessly at its face. “Sorry, just–not my subject number. Not–not that. Please.” 

“Hey, far be it from me to turn down a pretty girl asking me to call her ‘babe’, you’re not walkin’ that one back on me,” Superboy mock-scoffs, flashing it a wider grin and–and– 

And Superboy sees a girl when he looks at it. He sees a girl, and a “her”, and . . . and something to comfort. Someone to . . . 

He sees a person, when he looks at it. 

It–it knew he would. It knew that. 

But he does. 

She buries her face in her hands and starts bawling, and Superboy just wraps her up in his arms again like he’s not bothered by that at all and grips her tight, making rough little hushing sounds–or maybe rough little soothing sounds–against her hair. 

She still doesn’t know how to stop crying. 

The Agenda never thought she would, so why would they have taught her how to stop?

[year2000electronics]

how does your reverse falls weirdmageddon go down?

GREAT QUESTION. full explanation under the cut! (this info can also be found in my reverse falls doc) tldr ford and will start weirdmageddon, the gleeful family goes through the ultimate challenge of realizing theyre a selfish and broken family, and they all work together with the rest of the zodiac to destroy will through erasing fords memories!

the dimensional rift exists, but instead of ford finding it, stan does. ford knows there should be a rift around somewhere now that his portal's been totaled, but he can't find where it is. this is frustrating.

ford wants to start weirdmageddon with will to become the most powerful man in the world. that's his goal after he came back.

mason wants to grow up too fast, mabel is afraid of growing up. (we know this from canon already) this is also coming off the coattails of last mabelcorn, where mabel gets called 'ugly' by the unicorn (it hits her twice as hard because mason and mabel's entire thing is being cute kids performing!)

in mason & mabel vs the future, ford takes dipper to crash site omega to try and build an anomaly detector. he treats it as mason's first sort of "real expedition" but in reality he's still trying to find where stan hid the rift.

ford offers mason an apprenticeship, but instead of the problem being "dipper would stay in gravity falls", it's "ford says that he would have to stop his 'telepathy twins' act with mabel because it's holding back his potential and is actually quite childish". (of course he insists mabel would do great as a solo act)

mabel hears through walkie-talkies (they use it to fake 'twin telepathy' sometimes), gets upset that mason is abandoning her, and runs off, but instead of blendin, it's will that finds her! will insists that since she's technically his boss, if she wants a little more summer, he has no choice but to do as she wishes. he explains he'll need the rift that stan keeps in his study. mabel sneaks back inside and is able to get to stan's keys thanks to stan being hypervigilant of mason and less so of mabel (due to his brother and all)

once she gets the rift to will, will SMASHES it, revealing that ACTUALLY, he works on FORD'S orders, and she's forgotten where she lies in the pecking order. weirdmageddon begins, she gets trapped in a bubble, and ford and will's deal gets broken because of will's newfound physical form (and now that time is dead, it's technically "the end of time!" so there you go). they agree to rule the world as partners

somewhat replacing the canon intro all the way to the part where ford gets turned to gold is ford and will running into mason, who ford invites to join him because "he sees great potential in him". mason looks up at his uncle being all buddy-buddy with a demon and literally ending the world and he realizes "this isn't the man i want to be." but hes too terrified to say no, but he doesnt WANT to say yes, so hes just kinda frozen there.

wendy bails him out, pulling him into a car she jacked and driving off. they take shelter in the mall which is where they find paz, gideon, reggie and robbie. they form a ragtag group of Apocalypse Heroes and mason explains he needs to free mabel from her bubble. they drive all the way out to the bubble but get ambushed by STAN

stan kinda takes gideons place in the role of weirdmageddon where he has a mad max troupe of road warriors, but once he sees mason in the group, he calls them off, revealing he only "joined" ford to save his own hide and is absolutely ready to ditch that idiot.

the gleeful family enters mabel's bubble as the rest of the gang stand guard outside

weirdmageddon 2 is very similar to canon, but mabel gleeful elects herself queen of mabeland and has a lot more of a "tyrant ruler" vibe. she throws mason and stan in the dungeon and stuff its great. mason and stan convince her that theyve all messed up and they need to Be Better... starting with mason not taking the apprenticeship. mason and mabel reunite and theyre ready to take on will and ford now

weirdmageddon 3 has the gang finding bud and hope (gideon's parents) trying to ditch town by driving away in an RV, but paz and gideon want to help their NEW FRIENDS THE GLEEFULS rescue all the other townspeople, and maybe try to talk some sense into ford? (stan is doubtful.) so they start gathering resources to head to the fearamid

meanwhile, the reverse falls equivalent to the penthouse scene is happening, which is basically just will and ford chilling out as ford slowly tries to hammer away at the barrier equation (he studied magic, not this! give him some time!) until will drops the ball that like. ford has charmed him into still loving him. that much is true. but he's like "i think we're a little beyond you being in charge of me, right? and im more than happy to keep you around... but i never said anything about stanley or those kids."

hes like, to fords face, "i am going to kill mason and mabel." and obviously fords like UHHH NO DONT DO THAT because theyre family? and he doesnt want them DEAD even if theyre below him! but of course, will is just reflecting ford's terrible attitude back at him that only the Special and the Worthy should be able to claim that success. and since ford was always only looking out for himself, this is the ultimate culimation of that: he'll be the one surviving gleeful.

ford protests against this but will starts sobbing that ford is getting cold feet and turns him into gold and thats where we're at by the time the gang gets to the fearamid with the GIANT BUD'S AUTO ROBOT.

they rescue ford cos hes part of the zodiac and he definitely seems a little shaken up as he agrees to hold hands and save the world. but stan is pissed OFF because ford has done nothing but threaten and belittle stan for the entire time hes been back so as theyre holding hands he lets a remark slip about it and then ford just cant help himself and goes "its not my fault im the better twin". cue fighting cue everyone getting turned into tapestries etc.

stan and ford, instead of pulling the switcheroo, agree that ford should goad will into entering his mind by saying he's solved the equation (since yknow reverse ford doesnt need a metal plate). ford does that and then they erase his memories like they do with stan in the original show. kinda the ultimate penance going on there, ford doing something that isnt selfish for once and actively harms himself.

world saved, ford gets his memories back, blah blah blah, the gleeful twins celebrate their 13th birthday and mason, mabel and ford all smash their magic amulets so that theyll never use them again

stan and ford become the new "telepathy twins" as now neither of them have any magic to their name and can bond by tricking tourists Together. meanwhile mason and mabel retire and do part time work at greasys

paz leaves town for the summer but promises she'll come back next year

will whines at the axolotl to give him a second chance and he gets chucked in the theraprism

[persistentplums]

Yk if venture bros was brave (gay like me) in an act of mutual self destruction and pain Johnny and Rusty would’ve fucked. Do you see the horrible vision I’m making?

They were friends, then turned not great because of their respective parents Jonas whispering some mean and half untrue things about Johnny to Rusty and Dr.Quest hating Jonas guts etc so they drift apart but still lowkey have a good relationship out of sentimental nostalgia.

Fast forward to Johnny dad death and Rusty tries to help him but Rusty helping is like adding sugar to chilli so it doesn’t work out they drift apart again.

When Jonas dies I think Rusty realizes he’s alone, for real. In a weird sense he didn’t get why Johnny was so torn up, Johnny who warned Rusty so early in his life who was already wise to the entire ego of both their fathers but grief hit Johnny like a truck and Rusty didn’t get it. Now he does and I think in a need to feel destroyed, just tear apart something, he wants something to destroy him.

I think it would be a mix of care, pain, destruction, selfishness on both men part bc the only person who gets it is the other and it doesn’t solve shit. Rusty doesn’t get the feeling of destruction he wakes up and he’s still Rusty and his dad isn’t going to show up to destroy him for bumping ugly with Quest. And Johnny is going to wake up alone, because Rusty left and realize it has never been really about him like his whole life has never really been about him.

They both don’t have hard feelings about it tbh it’s the unspoken understanding hey we are the exact brand of fucked up. By the time the therapist episode happens I think Johnny is aware of his loneliness and accepts it so when dr.zin visits it’s kinda like nice to know there’s someone looking out for him.

I just think it would be funny in that way that isn’t funny at all but funny like thrown in one day by Rusty off handedly but the real story-just like all of his stories-are depressing af but nobody *needs* to know that part. Just like “big whoop who hasn’t fucked a Quest.” energy

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 30 - Linda Hamilton

You catch feelings oh fuck oh shit oh no.

On AO3.

You don’t even got a whole second to register what you see. Something moves behind Astarion. Seems to pop up outta the ground like a spud shot outta a potato gun. You catch an impression of something big and hunched and big ass scythe arms, and you move. Plow right into Astarion, tackle the both of you to the ground as something whistles overhead.

The second you hit, you roll away. Let Astarion scramble up, reach for his knives. But that big hook bitch is fast and it is mean. It don’t give him the chance to finish either of those before it swipes at him.

Fucker snags on Astarion’s armor. Saws right through the rope connecting you two. But then Hook Bitch spins, and that fucker is strong. It flicks Astarion up and tosses him into the rock wall behind y’all.

You’re already dumping your pack. Pawing through your shit. Your hands shake. You do your best to focus through that, force them to move despite the shakes. Fumble once. Grit your teeth. Hook Bitch turns to you.

Can’t find no fire bottle or nothing. Just healing, dirt potions, and what the fuck is that one?

No time.

You chuck the mystery bottle.

It hits Hook Bitch square in the chest and shatters. Smells weirdly like peppermint and musty feet? And before you can process much more than that, a blue shimmer engulfs it. It flails, makes a rattling sort of squawk, and the blue flashes and disappears.

When you look again, Hook Bitch is the size of a doberman. A scuttling, hunched doberman with a skesis face and big fucking murder hooks for hands. All of it hissing and squalling at you.

Big bitch? You’re fucked. Mini bitch?

You whack it with your stick. It flinches, but keeps on coming.

“Sonuvabitch! You ugly sonuvabitch!”

Which is when Astarion fucking pounces onto the damned thing and drives his knife through the back of the crusty little skull.

It spasms and drops. Lies on the ground twitching and shivering. Just as the blue shimmer kicks back in and it morphs into its bigger self. A very dead bigger self.

“What the fuck,” you say.

Astarion scoffs and examines the slash in his armor (it does suit him real well) (why the fuck do you keep looking at his damned shoulders).

Y’all were, admittedly, having some kinda moment until that shit jumped y’all.

“You okay?” you say.

He looks at you. Actually looks you square in the eye for the first time in over a week. And it makes your stomach go all fluttery. You blink and try to squash that.

He says something back. But before you can ask, the both of you catch movement. There’s a slope to the right, leading down the cliff towards the chasm that weirdo tree grows out of. And up that slope, bounding like a nightmare kangaroo, is another Hook Bitch.

“Oh shit,” you say.

“Ignis!” Astarion says. Because he can do that. He’s got magic that can light a bitch on fire thank fucking god.

But nothing happens. He looks to his hand, cupped like he’s expecting somebody to hand him change, but ain’t nothing there.

You both stare at that empty hand a second. Then at each other. And then at the Hook Bitch halfway up the damn slope.

And y’all know the drill by now. Don’t gotta say nothing. Y’all turn tail as one and fucking run.

But Astarion can see now, and he’s way faster than you. Even with all the recent practice, you’re stumbling and gasping after him. Hook Bitch is fucking fast. A phrase pops into your head, something about not needing to be able to run faster than a bear, just faster than at least one of your buddies. Oh fuck oh fuck—

Astarion stops, whirls. Reaches for something in his pack, and it’s all one movement, some lord of the rings Legolas shit. That thing is on y’all’s asses what—

A bow. The bow he stashed away once y’all realized he couldn’t see. He pulls it out in a sort of twirling shimmy and somehow manages to do a twisting motion and suddenly the bastard is fucking strung. Goddamn elf shit.

He fires.

It skitters off Hook Bitch’s carapace.

“Fuck us,” you say.

Astarion snarls. Tosses his bow and reaches for his knives again. You make some kinda noise. Not even his name or nothing, not a warning, not a word. Just a noise as your heart jams up your throat to choke you and that thing pounces.

But Astarion dives at the same fucking time. Sails right under the big bitch and lands in a tight roll. Comes up and throws himself backwards.

Because he’s an elf and a motherfucking vampire and he can just do crazy shit like that. Like plunge his knives into that thing’s back like he’s ice climbing. And then pull his way up, stab at a time, as the thing screeches and tries to swipe at him. Them hooks remind you of mantis claws, all curved and serrated and, in y’all’s luck, probably fucking poisonous. But they don’t make very good back scratchers.

Hook Bitch knows this, and you can tell it’s gonna do something horse-stupid. Gonna throw itself onto its back and crush Astarion. But Astarion is too fucking quick. He’s already reached the skull.

He snarls drives that knife, too, into the back of the thing’s head. Stabs it with the other knife for good measure and it’s like whacking a fish in the head with a good billy club. You can see the brain death in the sort of gasp and flail the thing makes: limbs flying wide, mouth dropping, whole body jerking like it licked an electrical outlet.

Astarion calmly rides the body to the ground.

“Holy shit,” you say.

He wrenches his weapons free. Notices the weird-colored goo on the blade and gives it an experimental sniff. Then grimaces and says what you can only surmise to be some kinda, “Ew, no.”

“Okay?” you say in English. Realize ain’t none of your party taught you any form of that in either language they’re teaching you, but you know words like cock and corpse and ain’t that just a fucking snapshot of y’all’s group dysfunction.

Astarion babbles back in Chondathan. The only part you can pick out is the “darling” at the end.

And then he’s gone. A flash of white. A partial shout. The space before you is suddenly empty. And it takes a second to figure out what in the fuck.

A third Hook Bitch. It holds Astarion in its clutches. He’s got a knife between his chest and one of them fuck off hooks, but his arm shakes with the effort of holding it. One slip, and that monstrous fuck’ll rip him open like a can of biscuit dough.

This ain’t like that drow. It ain’t even about that flying mouth bitch you threw that implosion grenade at. You got no capacity to think. No time at all. You hone in on Astarion—he’ll fucking die—and your brain goes all cold and still and direct.

You lift your staff. Lunge. Spear towards that thing’s face. Take out an eye, distract it, whichever. It sees you coming—you ain’t subtle—and snaps out with a clawed foot. Catches your whacking stick and rips it outta your grasp. It goes tumbling over the side of the cliff.

The shining line is already there. You ain’t processing. No strategy or statistics. It’s like you just know what to do. It’s already there, in your brain, and you don’t examine it because you already feel the deep certainty of it. The crocodilian coldness of the knowledge.

You dive between them legs. Toe claws like steak knives. They’d puncture you like a goddamn soup dumpling. But there ain’t room for that here. Cause you’re grabbing the knife the fucking drow used on you. The one you’ve kept in your belt since Astarion handed it over.

It ain’t some big dagger or nothing. A little more sizable than a buck knife, probably not a legal carry where you live. But it’s long enough and it’s sharp as fuck.

Hook Bitch got that carapace. You can’t reach the throat without hopping around and that’s assuming the thing stood still and gave you a fair shot. But there’s generally two places a thing can’t be armored and one of them is the mouth.

You start stabbing up. Towards where you think it has a butthole.

You’re clumsy. Hands shaking. Most of it’s messy slashing along the thighs and taint but you get a couple’a good digs up there. Enough the think shrieks and finally flails back. Swipes at you with a hook. Catches your shoulder, but you barely feel it and you’re already scrambling away. Throw one last, wild slash at the calf, and the thing stumbles, but it don’t go down.

It’s enough. Because while you was stabbing it, it dropped Astarion. And he’s way better than you with a knife.

One punches up through the thing’s lower jaw. He rams the second one through the eye once. Twice. Goo spatters and the thing makes an aborted sound. Twitches hard. Then he’s stepping back, reaching for you with sticky hands, and you both stumble away as the Hook Bitch collapses in a dying, gurgling pile.

At which point your legs give out. A sharp stitch lances up your side. You try to bring the knife up to re-sheath it (knife safety 101) but you almost drop the thing a couple times. And for some godforsaken reason, that’s what makes your eyes start to water.

“Christ fuck,” you say and swipe at your face. Realize your forearms is gummed in gore.

Then a pale hand slips into yours and eases the knife away. Sheathes the blade calmly, and then holds it back out for you.

You look up. Find Astarion staring, looking both bewildered and real fucking deranged. Also holding your pack.

Did you stab that thing in the ass? he wonders.

You stare.

Why did you stab it in the ass?

Because porcupines gotta shit. Can’t shit through armor plates.

You both stand there and stare at each other.

He thinks you’re a mad little creature. And then he cackles.

You look back to the dead thing you did, actually, stab in the ass at least twice. Wonder where in the fuck you got that idea.

Astarion holds out a hand, still covered in gore himself. You only consider that for a second, before you clasp it and let him help you to your feet. Your whole body shakes and you totter like somebody’s meemaw. He hands you your pack, and you take a few, precious moments getting that back over your head.

Then you look up.

You and Astarion are about the same height. Y’all are both spattered in god knows what fucking monster goo. Underneath all that, he stares at you. Red eyes focused right on you, and wow, his lips sure do look soft, huh? How come you never noticed that before? Or the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

You should lick it.

And that thought right there catches you so pants-down gobsmacked you damn near flinch away (and instead stop breathing for a second).

You…do not think that sort of thing. You ain’t never really thought that sorta thing. It’s kinda up there with noticing Rachel Olmstead’s tits when you was in the throes of puberty.

You feel all warm and, and shifting.

Oh.

Oh what the fuck.

Oh no.

Astarion looks at you and something in his face changes. Goes all, like, intent. But also soft? At the same time? His gaze flicks down. To your lips, you think.

Oh god. You should move away. But he’s right there and you just thought about licking the man’s neck and…is that warmth shooting to your crotch?

Sweet baby jesus, it is.

Holee shit. Oh lord, you done went and did it now. Oh no. Oh no.

He says a word. You recognize it: lips. But he’s changed the end. Made it…a verb? What—

You ain’t getting enough air. Have to suck in a huge lungful. Which snaps his attention back to your mouth. He’s asking a question. Lips, but a verb.

…kiss? He’s asking to kiss you, isn’t he.

He says it again. Good god, he’s breathing harder, too. Or maybe it’s just how close y’all are. You was between his legs a day or two ago with his fucking tongue on your goddamn neck and is this shit fucking contagious? You didn’t get all, all…twitterpated then?

Except.

You maybe kinda did.

Not like this! Nowhere near like this. But you’d been squirming. Trying real hard not to focus on the scent of him and the vibration of his voice on your fucking skin and just how close you were to where his own legs joined. And all the while, the man was just enjoying his meal. Wasn’t like he sounded like he was doing something else.

Astarion stands there. Leans in slow. Real slow. Giving you time. Asking you all blatant because he knows you already said you weren’t interested.

Except.

Except you’re leaning in, too. Heart slamming against your ribs. Brain gone all light-headed. You…want to kiss him. Good god almighty. You want to kiss the man.

Suddenly he pulls back. Whip-crack fast. Leaves you standing in the chill with your pulse pounding in your ears and heat mixing with oily dread and shame. You fucked this up. He came to his senses. Oh god, what the fuck is even happening—

“Drow,” he says, tone hard, staring off into the dark y’all’d emerged from.

You peer out like you’re gonna see something. And don’t. But he’s all sharpness now, part barn cat on the prowl, and part alley cat being prowled.

He looks at you. His cool hand finds yours.

Y’all run.

[thegamingcatmom]

It's past New years day/eve and all now, but this thought came just now of the sisters trying to be MC's New Year kiss.

It's that or Kate chaos where Tanya didn't even think of it and just wants the new year to be as special for MC as possible since it's their first New years Eve together.

Kate tho? Immediately remembers the idea/tradition and will do anything to annoy the heck out of Tanya, so she ends up stealing the new year kiss tradition thus claiming the potential strengthening of relationship superstition with MC and gloating it over Tanya

-📚

Tanya didn't even think of it

...You do realize who we're talking about here, right?

Tanya? Forgetting any tradition that has to do with getting real close? Especially after months of whining and pining??

Not a chance.

You remember their banter in chapter 3 that kinda turned into a full-blown cat fight when they realized MC needs saving? And especially when they realized only one of them gets to save her?

That's kinda what this is, lol. It's all fun and games (at least for Kate), until it's not. Things tend to get ugly rather fast between those two if there's something they both want, especially without Carmen or Irina around to give them a piece of their mind (or be a "spoilsport", as Kate likes to put it).

The piece of mind required here:

MC doesn't give a fck about traditions.

(Not that the two menaces cared...much. It takes a bit more than that to discourage them. 🙃)

.

.

.

I will say this though: Tanya would defo want their first anythings to be as special as possible. 💓

Thanks for your ask! 💋

[hyunestrella]

★༉‧₊˚✧ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐑 . THE WORST .

★༉ SUMMARY. Growing up you were never shown exactly what the correct example of unconditional love, leading you to believe it wasn’t real, and simply did not exist. So why was this kinda nerdy guy making you feel things you never knew existed?

★༉ PAIRING. Han Jisung x AFAB! Reader.

— warnings. angst, cheating, tears, swearing, yeonjun being an asshole, manipulation, mention of wanting to throw up, minnie calls yeonjun a dog, swearing, pet names (baby). lmk if i’ve missed anything!

— important note. this takes place before the first chapter!

— notes. super excited for this!!!

previous masterlist next

“You know I love you, right?” Yeonjun, your now ex-boyfriend, spoke up after your big fight, your breakup. Your jaw clenched in anger as he spoke, there had been a good few minutes, and you wanted everything to sink in — the fact that you and Yeonjun would be over for good, the fact you’d no longer be seeing him everyday, the fact you’d no longer be around his manipulation, his lies, and his cheating — until he decided to open his big mouth, “I’ll always love you, beautiful.”

“No, you don’t.” You scoffed, tongue poking the inside of your cheek trying to will your anger away. You shook your head in disagreement at his words, not noticing him coming up behind you. Yeonjun’s fingers slowly travel up your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake, his lips pressing a delicate kiss to the crown of your head, resting his chin there afterwards. “Don’t say thing’s you don’t mean, Yeonjun.”

“But I do,” he sighed softly, his aim to sound hurt as if he wasn’t the one watching you pack your things, as if he wasn’t the one that cheated on you, as if he wasn’t the one that allowed you to look like a fool in front of all of his friends. The brunette grabbed your hands, stopping you from folding your clothes, and turned you to face him. “I love you, Y/N, I always will,” he cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at him and allow him to see the build up of your emotions before they pushed past the barrier and present themselves to him, allowing him to see just how much of an effect he had on you. “You mean so much to me, it’s actually crazy.”

Your brows furrowed in disbelief, an ugly frown painted over your face as you processed his words, “oh fuck off!” You shouted, shoving him off of you as you shook your head, not letting his words get to you, not wanting to give him the chance to manipulate you into staying again.

Pushing him one more time, you turned around, going back to shoving your things into a duffle bag at a faster pace than before, “Don’t say shit like that, especially if you can’t fucking back up your claims.” You know the way you were forcefully packing your bag was going to crease all of your clothes, but at that point in time you couldn’t care less — you wanted to get out of there, and fast, not wanting to cry in front of the man you thought loved you once more.

Yeonjun was sat on the leather sofa, man spreading as he watched you rush to get away from him. He internally chuckled knowing you’d be back sooner or later, and that all this was dramatic. He stood as you checked your phone, constantly wanting to know how far away your friends were from your shared apartment.

“I really do mean it.” He slowly approached you, his hands falling to your waist as he whispered in your ear. You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to keep the tears at bay, “Your happiness is something I care about ��� seeing you happy makes me happy.” His fingers rubbed, what he thought to be soothing, circles into your skin, but in actuality it made you want to throw up. “If being without me means you’re happy, I’m willing to let you go.”

You turned, blinking at him in utter disbelief. Your sadness dissipated and flowed into anger, stone cold rage, that he even attempted to play the victim. “Are you fucking serious?” Your voice dropped dangerously low, the previous frown returned, but deeper this time. “Yeonjun, you fucking cheated!” Your finger aggressively pushed into his chest, making your anger more apparent. “You do not get to spout bullshit about how much you’re going to miss me, how much you care about me!”

Your feet moved on their own, your chest now pushing against your exes as you heavily breathed, scanning his face for any sign that he actually cared. There was none. “You do not deserve to tell me you love me, Yeonjun, because it’s fucking bullshit.” Your body trembled as you looked at him, and all the brunette could do was sigh and rub his forehead in what you believed to be frustration.

“Baby…” He began but you shook your head, interrupting him.

“Don’t you dare.” You warned, stopping him before he could begin to calm you down, using a pet name he knew would do the trick — you weren’t going to let it. “Don’t fucking go there.” Your phone vibrated in your pocket, pulling it out you see one of your best friends caller id displayed on the screen. You let it ring, having one more thing to say to the man before you, “if you truly cared about me, and my happiness, you wouldn’t have led me on. You wouldn’t have played with my feelings, and you definitely would not have cheated on me.”

The second time your phone rang you answered it, hearing Hyuka’s voice fill the speakers, “Y/NNIE, we’re outside!” His cheerful voice was music to your ears, as you picked up your bag and headed for the door, leaving the key to your shared apartment behind.

“Make sure to leave that dog inside,” Minnie’s voice flowed out next, as you heard a car door open and a honk of the horn, “I don’t want him near my fucking car.” You rolled your eyes at her comment but opened the door either way, ending the call as you did so.

“Bye, Yeonjun.”

teaser chapter one — the worst.

previous masterlist next

★༉‧₊˚✧ 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

@liknws , @l3visbby , @hyunverse , @seungbinbin , @sunboki , @choiwonder , @nebulousbookshelf , @cosmic-railwayxo , @sunshinesquokka , @sanriiolino , @shakalakaboomboo (lmk if you wish to be removed.)

@chengmeiauau , @hanjisunginc , @lolob , @vixensss , @ivyannemarie

if you do not interact within a week you’ll be removed from the taglist.

© @hyunestrella 2023.

[urlsaremeaningless]

collection of funny things people I know have said (part 2)

Feel free to change pronouns as needed <3 have fun! please reblog this if you enjoy it.

whats art without a little bit of OSHA violations

Ten-nessee implies the existence of nine-ssee

Mary-land must have been Mary-sea

While we're still here, whoop his ass too

their new companion Space Turtle, Hero from Space that they picked up after a drunken college party

That’s more of an ask than you think

We will let you fuck the monsters but I’m drawing the line at buildings

If you ignore all the ugly parts, it looks kinda nice

there was definitely gay love in there...somewhere

That’s like asking a beaver the size of his wood

I want to be in a hospital in Canada or France! Oui, oui, ow

Sir, do you know how fast your wheels were gyrating?

your honor, my client is in goblin mode

No mine isn’t a fun fact. It’s about animal abuse.

If an eel isnt just a snake fish then idk what is lol

..................where is the CORN STORE?!

thats like calling the tamborine the shakey wakey or the tuba the blowey blowey

I thought that said turn [name] into a mommy for a sec and I got real concerned for what was happening in this chiles tonight. Doesn’t mummy in retrospect sound less alarming now?

what THE FUCK is HALLOWS OF WEENS?!

He’s not giving the boobs their due diligence

I haven't seen any beer cans in a while and i'm getting concerned

It makes my nostrils feel lemony fresh

Wow, these people don’t know how milkshakes work…. Idk how we’re gonna get the boys to the yard

You’re like high fiving god right now

OSHA violations are like warcrimes for working people

I'm sorry, did you just say the dead baby has charisma?

cannibalism confirmed 13/10

Well, I could throw babies into an incinerator. That would be unforgettable, doesn't mean it's GOOD

[Person A] is the main character but okay [Person B] sure

shit!...i just killed someone

Oh shut the fuck up, no you're fucking not

...so like....is pluto a slave?

Corner cobbler corn cob, that’s where corner cobbler is on the corn cob-corn corner corn cobbler

If Charlie can be short for Charles, then Carly can be short for Carles

If shorten Charles to Chuck, then what can you shorten Carles to?

How do we Othello you?

look man, I'm just saying... who the fuck says 'yeah I want a bar of milky way,' like they're not gonna pick literally any other chocolate

The vibe I get is like you're a fancy butler by day but you have a rave later tonight

[starshifter]

Y’all probably are here for my notes on Stelle and the writing, but ha! I have fooled you! This contains notes on giant glacier worms!!! (the normal notes are after that lol. I just wanna nerd for a bit. Lemme dh kinnie or whatever the kids are now calling it lol)

-

Welcome to the notes on my giant, fucked up, scientifically impossible, super worm 💖💖💖

First up, I have based it on these four real life worms:

Alitta virens (sand worm) Mesenchytraeus solifugus (ice worm) Eulagisca gigantea (my favorite fucked up antarctic worm. It’s so ugly <3) Eunice aphroditois (bobbit worm)

Follow the links to see images if you wish to. Esp the fucked up antarctic worm💖

I did attempt some science though, because this is who I am.

The worms have two life stages: larva and adult.

The larva are born in the water column below the ice. They float around feeding on whatever they can find (including each other) until they grow additional body segments to assist with their next life stage. Then they will swim up to the ice. Not a lot of them make it to this stage. The ones that do are able to safely burrow up into the ice and escape most potential predators.

The worms that successfully burrow into the ice have reached the adult phase. The larva don’t have the jaws for burrowing or the antifreeze secretions to help keep them from freezing in place and provide additional help with tunneling. By this point, they will also have started growing their bristles. Their bristles help them propel themselves through the slick ice or water and also contain various sensory nodes so they get a degree of sensation across their body.

They do not possess eyes and instead rely on vibrations (as a sort of mixed sound and touch sensation) and chemoreceptors (smell, basically) to help them sense their surroundings.

The adult worms will continue growing throughout their life, which is quite long if nothing else eats them. Sizes of over 200 feet (61 meters) have been recorded.

Once in the ice, their diet expands. While the larva are omnivourous and feed on plankton, the adults gain an additional source of food through their burrowing. The ice itself. …Okay, not quite. What they’re actually feeding on is the plentiful number of ice worms burrowed into the glacier. It’s kinda like filter feeding with baleen whales. Except it’s a giant bristle worm through ice.

But that’s not all! These worms are also fantastic ambush predators because of how fast they move and their ability to hide in the ice! (Don’t talk to me about how glaciers are on land, not water. Everyone in this fic is using the wrong term because they are unaware there’s more ocean underneath them than land during this stretch of their journey.)

“But Des!” I hear you yelling. “It doesn’t make sense to have these worms use two separate hunting methods that both employ different strategies! Surely it should specialize in whatever strategy got it the most food?” And you’re right. It should. But this is my made up space worm, so I’m saying it gets to do both. Mostly because I needed a reason for it to attack Firefly and Stelle and opportunistic predator that will eat literally anything worked best for that. Filter feeders tend to be gentle giants. (To be honest, predators tend to be pretty chill too, but this one is hungry, so chill mode is turned firmly off.) And anyways, it’s more of an opportunistic ambush predation thing. They have to dip down to the water to breathe, so if there’s something nearby, they can grab it. They mainly feed by tunneling through the ice. They just are not picky worms and won’t pass up anything that might be edible. So they’ve kept some adaptations that help them snatch the occasional additional meal up.

To be quite honest, I originally wanted to find a way to work chemosynthesis into the giant ice worm (did you know there are bristle worms in the deep sea that live off of methane clathrate deposits? so fucking cool), but I just couldn’t reconcile it with the ambush predation. Those both need different methods of digestion and different bacteria living in symbiosis in the worm’s gut. So I scraped it even though it made me sad. Then I had the filter feeding idea (which tracks with the giant size as all the largest organisms in the ocean are filter feeders!) and decided to combine that instead with opportunistic ambush predation when they go back down into the ocean in order to breath.

Oh yeah, did I mention that they don’t breathe air? Nope, they get their oxygen needs met in the water, where they can directly absorb the oxygen better. They do get some oxygen in their burrowing, as they melt and crunch the ice, but it’s not enough to sustain them. Think of them a bit like reverse seabirds, diving into the ice to hunt while living and breathing in the water. Or uh. Reverse whales. That would make more sense, huh?

-

Congrats, you survived worm notes!! Now you can have the normal ones lmao

-

I feel like my writing style for Stelle POV is so different from Blade… The curse of trying to convey personality through prose… Hopefully, it isn’t too off putting to have all those sentence fragments in there…

The way I see it, the TB is pretty stiff and nonvocal while around strangers. Once they start feeling more comfortable though, they get really weird really fast. They have a lot of personality locked up under that blank face.

I think it’s accurate to compare the Trailblazer to a pet that’s always getting into things that it shouldn’t and then chewing on them.

Also they strike me as the type to be really stupid, right up until they pull something genius out of their hat. They’ll eat a bolt of fabric, completely fail to read a room before making a joke, and then turn around and win a logic debate. They’re a fascinating paradox to me. How does a brain like this even work? I doubt I’ve come close to accurately capturing it, but it was kinda fun to try. I don’t think I’ll do extended TB POV again tho. Once was enough of a struggle…

Also they’re like…weirdly detached in some ways? Like they don’t quite seem to realize that reality is reality. They can take things seriously, for sure, but they often don’t at the same time. Think of the time they fell into Penacony and were smiling as they fell until they realized they were going to crash land. It took them until just before the impact to even consider an impact was coming. Maybe it was just cause they were dreaming…but I dunno. Penacony seemed very similar to reality in a lot of ways. It’s odd, and I imagine it has to do with the Stellaron and its own reality bending ways. But it does make writing them a bit challenging…

Minor tweaks to Stelle’s characterization done after Amphoreus came out. I am still saying this is set before Amphoreus though. Mostly cause I don’t know what all is going to happen there lol. Good thing the Amphoreus mission happened and got me to go digging back through Stelle’s origins a bit. I was utterly blindsided about the complete memory loss over Blade straight up telling her that she used to run with the Stellaron Hunters. Turned out, I had completely forgotten that Kafka Spirit Whispered her to not think about her past. Whoops. Good thing I fixed that, huh? (damn you shitty memory…)

My friend’s comment on Stelle’s attempt at a pickup line was just “girl failure” and I laughed so hard y’all, so I’m sharing it lmao

Everyone realizes that Shingen Crash is just Genshin Impact, yeah? It’s always been a silly little headcanon of mine that that’s the gacha the TB plays on their phone. ….also it’s the only other gacha I know anything about lol Edit: so I have Silver Wolf now (I finally have all the Stellaron Hunters!!! Finally!!! Now I gotta e6 em somehow lmao rip), and they seem?? To be playing?? Star rail????? I can’t deal with the reality bending consequences of this, so I’m sticking with it being genshin. Fuck this

So I found myself faced with the question of what the fuck Firefly’s cape even was. I came to the conclusion that it was the burn off of a stable fusion reaction used to power her suit. I have no idea if that would work, but this is space opera, so maybe they have a way to do such things, idk.

Can everyone tell that I didn’t have Firefly when I wrote the first fic? I would have put her super special awesome battle mode into the Stellaron fight complete with her sick ass swords. All I had to go on was her boss fight and occasionally borrowing her from other people… Thank you Firefly for coming home this time around. Now I just have to get Silver Wolf and my collection will be complete… At least until they add Elio to the game (unless he’s actually that cat lol)

I’ve corrected Stelle’s texting habits. You’re welcome. Now she actually types like a person her age (I’m assuming young college age?) should ….would I get in legal trouble if I actually put the stickers into the fic? Like, I’m describing them and all, but what about just adding them? I can put their description into their display name for the screen readers

Is Stelle a robot fucker? Why are you even asking me this when the answer is obvious? Next question

More fantastic commentary from my friend: “she doesn’t even know the effervescence of snails” when Stelle was trying to think of something slow moving lmaoooo

Stelle strikes me as the “I take all of my emotions and bury them down deep and then deploy humor to cope” kind of person. As such, she has come to lean on her identity as the “funny one” to interact with the world and has crises if people don’t seem to find her funny, which in turn makes her try even harder to be funny. Also, it means she avoids dealing with the rougher emotions that she should be dealing with, like grief. She’s not ignoring Culseva’s death on purpose, this is just how she’s learned to function. I did touch on her form of grief a little bit, but as you saw, most of this fic she just avoids thinking about it, and when she does think about it, she shies away pretty quickly.

Honestly, I have so many hang ups about Stelle’s characterization. Writing this fic was somewhat of a nightmare. The first thing that really made me think that I’d gotten her character right was when she ate the wrapper. That’s a sign of a great character right there lmaooo. Like, look, I just assumed the non-food items, like toys, were something Stelle would just play with, not eat. Until we got the new area of the Express. And they let me dead ass eat that fabric experiment DH put in the fridge. Now I fully believe that the TB eats all the consumables. I don’t know how they aren’t dead. Clearly, being a Stellaron comes with some perks. Also! Stelle! You’re not allowed to judge people for what they eat when you are LITERALLY eating a WRAPPER!! WTF!!! (I also want it known that this was written before we had the option to make the TB literally eat soil. That just further supported my choices here)

Stelle is both the comedy device and full of so much untapped angst. Luckily, I—your local angst and humor connoisseur—am here to tap that ass. I mean it. Tap it. (is my ace ass even allowed to make this joke…?)

Someone asked me about bathroom usage on the main fic, so I have explicitly addressed this issue in this fic. You’re welcome, random commenter

Oh, I also want to call Stelle the fuck out for saying Firefly was cool for having “calculations” when I KNOW she would call DH a lame nerd for saying the exact same thing lmao

Okay, so I know I didn’t get into who the OCs in this fic were at all, but Sethre and Velthur were the other two OCs I came up with who were accompanying Himeko and March over to Suthi (the other planet) to negotiate for Huth’s sovereignty and also emergency aid in the face of their Stellaron Crisis. Sethre is the Rasna (mountain goat person) and Velthur is the Ziva (vampire bat person. Yes, you should just be picturing a katakan from witcher 3 or something similar. Once again, this planet system was originally designed for a witcher fic I never wrote lol). I did not give them personalities because I never actually did anything with them other than go, huh there’s probably people alongside March and Himeko. Wonder who they are?

DH blatantly lying about Blade because he’s making excuses for the murder attempts lol. Also getting called out for his crush on an old man lmao. Go Stelle go! Bully those idiots!

So there are two ways they let you interact with Kafka in game, either you hate her and want her to leave you alone, or you seem to miss her in some capacity and care about her. I tried to show that the Trailblazer was experiencing some degree of both of these emotions, but ultimately leaned in the direction of missing her. I just have a lot of thoughts and feeling and, most importantly, questions about these two and their relationship. I personally like to think that the SH operative who recruited Kafka was actually the Trailblazer and that’s who Elio was giving those orders to in Kafka’s final lore story. And from there they got really close as they went through a lot of life and death situations together before they recruited Firefly. The Trailblazer came to be a bit of a light to Kafka, who came to be a bit of guardian to them in turn. Which is why Kafka is willing to joke around with Stelle in a way she wouldn’t with anyone else :sob: And then something happened and the Trailblazer either died or chose to give up their life in pursuit of their wish. I could be completely wrong of course, but I like to think I’m not lol. But I’m not wrong that they have some sort of special bond! Kafka clearly cares about the Trailblazer!!!

Silver Wolf is only checking in on Firefly and Stelle rather than Blade because she does NOT want to know what going on with the boys. She just knows it’s either murder or sex and she wants no part in either. No, she’d rather chill with her old bestie, Stelle. Even if she’s third wheeling two people who aren’t dating again. She hadn’t missed that. She’s too ace for this (am I projecting on sw? Yes, and no one can stop me).

I like to believe that Stelle’s ‘reality is a game’ jokes are actually leftover from her friendship with Silver Wolf. SW was the one making those jokes and Stelle just absorbed them silently and started regurgitating them once she was reborn As such, firefly’s face that she couldn’t see was actually more along the lines of ‘god there’s two of them now,’ than anything else lol

Be honest with me, how obvious is it that I only had a plan for the first section of their glacier adventure and the worm fight and the rest was just me going ‘oh fuck I have so much empty space and nothing to fill it with because I’m hampered by the timeline I put out in the main fic for their relationship uhhh fuck ok time skip’

I feel like I sort of made Stelle a helpless princess for most of this fic…. It’s not what I was going for; Firefly is just OP. So I made sure to correct that in the worm fight. She’s a BAMF I swear

I was thinking of having them bring the ceiling down on the worm to defeat it, but honestly, predators aren’t likely to stay and fight if they get injured. That worm decided they were NOT worth the effort to eat and skedaddled. Good for it. I didn’t want to kill it anyways.

I like to think that Stelle finally figuring out what was going on with her emotions went a little something like this: Oh gee, I miss Firefly so much. She’s been gone for one hour and I think I’m moping about not seeing her pretty eyes anymore. I should talk to March. “Hey, March, scale of 1-10, how weird is it that I want to stare at Firefly’s eyes for forever?” “You have a crush on Firefly!?” “What? No, crushes are when you want to spend forever with a person and touch them lots and they give you butterflies and…. Fuck, I have a crush on Firefly. FUCK. What do I do now???” “Uhh, ask her out, duh. She’s totally into you.” And then Stelle asks her out over text after a few days of deliberation because Stelle remains a social disaster 🤦 Luckily, Firefly is also not great with normal, so she is perfectly fine with this lol

Also, since this didn’t really get covered in the main fic and Blade didn’t have all the facts, Firefly wasn’t always around in the Express because she needed to take the time to just sit in her armor to manage her condition. She didn’t want to wander around the Express as Sam though, so she stayed in her room for those times. Stelle and March would come hang out with her though, so she wasn’t completely alone there. I personally imagine that Sam holds Firefly in a sort of stasis condition, so her ELS doesn’t advance when she’s in it. But she can’t live in it constantly, and those bursts of being a normal person cut down on her lifespan. Of course, once ELS starts affecting you, being in the armor becomes extremely painful. So staying in there to prolong your life really sucks. It’s a shitty situation overall. Please cure Firefly faster Elio 😭😭 (Honestly, I did a lot of guesswork on how Firefly and her armor work… We really don’t have that many details. So I get to take creative liberties. Wahoo! My town now.)

I’m using the term AstralNet for their version of internet (I feel like maybe I heard this used before? But I can’t find evidence of it so??). It just sounds more appropriate for their universe. I’m sure it’s an IPC invention and just as shitty as our current version of the internet.

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Bonus content: have some cut scenes from the first draft I was really sad to lose

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In memoriam: one of my favorite scenes of the fic that did not survive edits after I looked up proper references of how Firefly flies (I thought it was the leg jets honestly rip me) 😭😭

“Piggyback ride!” Stelle immediately demanded, sticking her arms out like a child asking to be picked up.

“That is a good solution, yes[[ ….except her jets are actually on her back. She can’t fly if stelle is there. Damn it. My gay moment :singletear:]].” Firefly turned and crouched down in front of her.

Stelle gleefully hopped on her back and wrapped her legs around her middle. The section right above her waist was perfect for her bare legs—there were barely any of the more poky plates there. It was all smooth, black metal that burned pleasantly against her skin.

She hooked her chin over the top of Firefly’s helmet. She had to crunch up a little bit to fit, but it wasn’t too bad—she just draped herself forward a bit more. Firefly’s giant shoulder things made excellent hand grips too. It was like Firefly was made to give piggyback rides.

“Onward!” she called, raising one fist towards the sky. She considered summoning her lance for a second, just to really complete the picture. Maybe if March had been there to get a photo. Could she convince Firefly to do this again after they took care of the Stellaron? Maybe she could get Mr. Yang and Dan Heng to do the same and they could try jousting. That would be awesome.

Firefly stood up smoothly, giving no sign that she noticed Stelle’s weight on her back. That was hot. Not in a weird way. Just—strong people were hot. Yeah. March agreed with her. Dan Heng probably did too, he just was too cowardly to admit it.

Stelle drummed her fingers along Firefly’s shoulder things as they started down the crack in the ice, enjoying the little bursts of heat through her gloves She hoped Firefly was right about finding a way out. There weren’t any signs of an opening in the ceiling— annoyingly, since the split ran so far up—but maybe they would get lucky further in.

Another RIP to an immature joke that got cut once I realized that her leg was more of a vent with maybe some stabilizing secondary capabilities than her main source of flight

Firefly settled more comfortably on the ground. “The ice seems stable again. Perhaps this would be a good time to do a bit more work on my thruster.”

“Heh, thruster,” Stelle muttered under her breath.

“I didn’t catch that.”

“No, nothing! Let’s do some puzzles!”

[queen-scribbles]

bound, break, skin for Jaaide and maybe also AJ?

Ohoho, these two are both excellent for these questions. :3

bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

Jaaide was imprisoned by the Castellan Restraints(inflicted by her own people :) ), and then there's the five years in carbonite thanks to Arcann, and briefly, technically, captured by Heta's forces on Ruhnuk. The Castellan Restraints left mental scars after she reconditioned herself, there haven't been any long term effects from the carbonite, but she did deal with nausea for a while immediately after Lana freed her(and sometimes forgets how old she is bc those 5 years feel like they "don't count"; she has to do the "What year is it? And I was born in...? Making me...." math). Nothing even short term from the Ruhnuk one bc of how fast Rass saved her neck.

AJ was captured by Murphy in book 1, wriggled herself free before running into Unit Bravo, and she has a deep-seated fear of being retrained now, as well as the bite scars on the side of her neck. (Also some lingering trauma from watching him beat Nate unconscious. No, knowing about vampire superhealing--and that Nate's is extra good--does not help)

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

Jaaide it's one of two things: either failing at her long-term goal of bringing down the Empire and seeing that everything she's spent a decade working and sacrificing toward that end was for nothing or losing Theron. Whether that's death-type losing Theron or she says/does something that makes him turn on her for real. There was a taste of the latter during the Fractured Alliances arc; she takes insomniac workaholic to a whole new level, is half a step from a complete non-functioning wreck. Theron's seen her at her lowest bc.... well, he didn't put her there but he def rubbed salt in the wound. Her lowest was post-Onslaught, when a whole bunch of civilians died bc she said the wrong thing and didn't talk Darth Krovos out of bombing Corellia. Add Theron yelling at her for something she already felt massively guilty over(one of their only real fights. :)))) ) and that was probably the lowest she's gotten.

AJ it would be failing to protect someone, especially someone she cares about a lot. She felt horribly guilty when Bobby got sick in b2 and she kinda loathes him; if something horrible happened to, say, Nate or Felix or her mum in a scenario where it's even 3% possible for her to blame herself, she's gonna break down. Lots of tears, streaky red face bc she's an ugly crier, either self-imposed exile bc she just gets people hurt OR driving herself unreasonably hard to set it right. Like, we're talking almost-killing-herself hard. Adam needs to have a talk with her hard. Her lowest point so far is when she was crying over the missing posters in b3, so no one saw her, but she called Nate, so he heard her, if that counts.

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

They're both pretty comfortable in their skin. You could say Jaaide grapples with what she knows she's capable of; the rage that tore Vinn Atrius to (figurative) shreds for trying to kill Theron, the manipulation that's turned people against their own families, but she knows just bc she's capable of those things doesn't mean she's going to use them.

AJ doesn't have anything(yet? there are some hints for book 4 that are 👀), and I don't think either of them's truly had to face the worst version of themselves yet. And I don't think AJ would be able to acknowledge it without facing it. She knows she's not perfect, but idk how she'd handle the absolute worst version of herself.

Not So Nice Asks

[posttexasstressdisorder]

This particular Octember is beginning auspiciously enough, but my antennae are picking up a generally ugly, dark mood to the feel of our shared, collective consciousness.

Not depressed, just "dark" in a way that kinda surprises me. Because I know what depression dark is like, and so I really do not like anything "gothic" or horror. No violent movies, books, no real desire to see slasher gore and shit. Life is horror enough for me, just wakin' up every morning.

One of the reasons I rarely leave the house any more is needing to control my input of human interaction and harmful energy dynamics. This usually means knowing when to pull back from "the news" here on The InterToobz and doin' the shit I have to in order to be left alone by "The Machine" for another few weeks, anyway.

I think people may be getting used to the idea of "Old Undiagnosed Autistic Dudes/People". People who were already old when the whole autism thing came into the consciousness. When I read the definition it was like "There. That's it. That's me."

I have a really strict routine and checklist I go through in my head before I leave the house, and generally just put my head down and plow through, ie: walk fast, too fast, to get it over with, focus on not falling down, vision aimed at 6-10 feet ahead at the ground, with my weird brand of tunnel-vision that tends to block out other humans.

Today went swimmingly, as far as gettin' shit done, but there was just such a Dark vibe out and about. Yes, Octember is FALL, which I love, the angle of the sun, the leaves, if they turn, earlier sunset (yay!). And yes, the spooky halloweeny shit is out there, but this is in addition to or instead of, either/or.

Could this be the mere flickering of the beginnings of Pitchfork/Torch/Guillotine Time Consciousness reverberating across the centuries?

It's a Grim "We Have To Do Whatever We Can To Stop This Ugly Thing And Fix It" energy. A settledness to it like the energy that came out of the older WWII-era and before relatives. Like we have to do this ugly thing to STOP THIS UGLY THING.

The phrase "We will all wear A Grim Smile one day."

And we will.

[alien-aisha-vending-machine]

i see you got a mspp sooo what do you think of the new nostalgic pets?

Oh yeah, I splurged a touch. Had some leftover NC from the pumpkin spice gacha LOL. BUT I'm uh, not.. not great with gacha systems and the fact that they not only made it a gacha but also FOMO is rlly bad for people like me who are susceptible to gambling/addiction disorders. I had to get the for-sure deluxe one because I know I'd spend thrice the amount of the significantly cheaper one if my luck turned sour. I have to limit myself to one event a year (usukicon) or I'll hurt my finances (looks at pumpkin spice gacha not me spending unhealthy $$$)

MSPP was one of the pets that REALLY suffered from conversion so I'm pleased it was part of the first batch! Same with Usuki!

overall it's a net positive. I don't engage with the neo community and i have been avoiding pound chat (and forums) since the 2010s but I hear that it's kind of imploding right now. While I empathize with lost time spent trading and negotiating for pets that no longer hold value.. its worth remembering that value had a rly ugly black market and it was an aspect worth nipping in the butt. Hopefully trading will go back to pre-2010 where people actually traded for pets. But who knows.

The art... Its.. mixed feelings. The art is an improvement for sure, but idk if that improvement was a good thing. (pets like kiko lost some charm for sure.) cause a lot of what made old neo really charming was that it was kind of ugly? I've been staunchly against the softer shading style for a long time so it's refreshing to see & know that the old style of art is still possible.

So while overall I think its a good thing, what worries me most is that.... Well, I think it might be setting a... bad precedent for future ways of handling the site & it's monetization. I actually haven't seen a lot of people discussing it BUT... unlike a game like Fortnite or smth where skins don't affect gameplay- coloring your pet is a gameplay element of Neo! Being able to buy colors- be it UC (nostalgic now I guess?) or some of the body paints (I think they had like.. a cherry blossom one?) Is not.. not good. Buying paint brush colors should NOT be done with REAL WORLD MONEY, and I think the success of the Nostalgic pets is going to give World of Neopets a green light to keep doing that. (Heck, I don't even thing color-changing ITEMS for PETS should be allowed. Paint brushes are a core element of the site and its not like single-species colors aren't a thing.)

But maybe im being paranoid, it's not like Neopets has been a site for me for a long time. It feels like a glorified gachapon doll site these days and.. it's not the weird and kinda messed up site it used to be. I know they have a lot to do involving code but It's.. it's not.. going fast enough. Not when I see them doing shit like popping up stalls at cons.. you know how expensive that stuff is? a stall at comicon? Take that several thousand grand and hire a code engineer.

tldr: Nostalgics are a step in the correct direction, and it's SO good to see non-fisted pets!! but their implementation & monetization worries me.

[renoxvated]

name: Roy Novac Sullivan

nickname: Sully, Courier, Courier Six, Six (for friends & partners only) are the most commonly used nice nicknames.

relationship status: Single. (but good luck getting him 2 mingle)

gender: Cisgender Male

romantic orientation: Bisexual (although he kind of fears sexual intimacy to a degree but he definitely has them urges) He leans towards men over women but still likes women plenty and is more verbal about that. He often doesn’t talk about his attraction to men but mostly because he tries to have this sort of social construct macho-ness about him. 

preferred pet names: Baby (this one is a lowkey favorite and he would DIE before admitting it because he's not a BABY!!!! but it makes him MELT) also Six feels weirdly intimate because most just call him Courier Six if they use the term and few folks know him by the distinction of Courier Six, as most would just say Courier or The Courier even, so it being shorthand for that just seems like a nickname of an already less used nickname. 

opinion on true love: Roy has never felt it from a person, never had people to watch that have either, so to him it’s a foreign concept. That was until he walked into Freeside for the first time, until he passed through The Strip— until he watched a Mojave sunset with his best pals shooting shit off in the distance. Until he actually had something other than his life worth losing and until he lost that and found it all again and again

Until he cradled a dying dog back to life who’d already lived more lives than he’d ever had. Until he pulled the bottle away from a woman who was drowning in it. Until he gave a man revenge before his own and tried to fix those broken little pieces after it was all said and done. Until he found a friend in an old ghoul who he had helped find life and worth in those old bones again.

Until he found family in a super mutant that lost herself, but found him and that was enough for her. Until he fixed up a little robot that became his reason to trust them all together... so many more folks he’d met and so many more he’d still see.

The Courier believes in true love in a different sense because his heart belongs to The Mojave, to New Vegas, to its people— first and foremost. Roy would die for them but more importantly he would live for them too, that’s what true love was, right?

opinion on love at first sight: He doesn’t think it’s real, thinks it’s mumbo jumbo right up there with the Mothman, because how would you know if you loved anyone that fast? His parents couldn’t love him at first sight so how’s a stranger gonna? He does however believe in lust at first sight, thinks that’s kinda obviously a thing some folks just have with one another even if they don’t admit it.

how ‘romantic’ are they?: He’s surprisingly very romantic, mostly because he’s pretty observant when his shuts his mouth. He’ll remember the little things and his love language is both acts of service and gift giving. He isn’t much for being very verbally vocal but he’ll bring his partner little things that remind him of them all the time and he’s always willing to do things for them. The latter to an arguably unhealthy degree.

ideal physical traits: someone who can hold their own in a fight but it’s not like a deal breaker or anything just a turn on. 

ideal personality traits: He likes people who take action in some way, he doesn't like people who sit on the sidelines if they can help someone. It doesn't have to be in a fight, Roy respects all sorts of ways people can show kindness. He's pretty easily swayed to those who do the bare minimum of being a decent human being, if we're being honest, so it wouldn't take a lot to impress him with a halfway decent personality.

unattractive physical traits: None, Roy thinks he looks ugly regardless of that being true so he’d NEVER judge someone else by looks. 

unattractive personality traits: He HATES when people treat him like he’s stupid, or make him feel like a child. He doesn’t like being talked down to, like he’s less than because of where he comes from and how he was raised.

ideal date: Roy is a VERY simple man, he’ll go anywhere and do anything with his partner and be perfectly fine. He might make comments if it’s something classy, because he’s far from a classy guy, but he’s still happy to trot alongside his partner. His ideal date is usually whatever they want to do, that being said if he’s picking for serious, he’s a let’s take the robots (dog and eyebot variety) out for a walk and get into fist fights with raiders sorta guy. 

do they have a type?: He does, although he’s unaware of what that type is. When it comes to both men and women, he likes people who know what they’re doing and can take control. 

Often Roy’s violent tendencies and crude nature come from him wanting to be the one with power, be that to keep others away or make him feel stronger like he can’t be hurt emotionally, due to the lack of control he never had as a child. He needs someone that can rein him in and ground him, by making him feel secure in his place in his partner's life. So basically his type is someone who can be assertive.

average relationship length: N/A

preferred non-sexual intimacy: Head scratches, face touching, eye contact, telling him he did a good job at things. Roy is very needy when it comes to romantic intimacy, non sexual or otherwise. He likes to feel like he’s wanted and needed (which unfortunately makes him easy to manipulate in some ways despite his usual bark about personal freedoms).

commitment level: Monogamous. He is very loyal, to a fault. It’s probably one of his biggest character traits, that is if he cares about you. He doesn’t have a problem with other folks and lack of Monogamy but he’s very keen on it. 

opinion of public affection: He will do it to get a rise out of people once he’s comfortable in the relationship but at first he’s very much lowkey nervous about it, mostly because he’s scared of any physical intimacy at all.

past relationships?: None, Roy has never been with anyone. He almost got with a ‘lady of the night’ once when he was younger but he fumbled the bag from getting flustered by being touched and not knowing what he was doing so he left and never tried anything else since then.

writers note: also i feel like i should mention that while roy has never been with anyone romantically or sexually and prefers people who can take charge. that doesn’t necessarily mean sexually and means more romantically and as a person. he's pretty hard to pin down into a relationship over all because he doesn't like to verbally express romantic attraction or attachment, and to be honest would have a hard time believing anyone actually like him like that. roy would probably be a pretty dominant person (although he’s very versatile to his partners needs and will step down on that trait of his just not without some shit talking probably) once he knew what he was doin’ because that’s just how he is if (u feel me) and man’s got a strength of ten he gonna HOIST his partner up if they want it lmao okay anyway back 2 ur scheduled programming. 

TAGGED BY: general tag everyone.

TAGGING: whoever wants to!

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Mother Gotham and Her Beloved Children

This is yet another fic I wrote for the @batfam-big-bang, this time for @red-hood-redemption's gorgeous artwork, which they posted here! This one is a one-shot, so I'm posting the entire thing here, but you can also go read it on AO3 if you want.

[Warning for minor violence]

Selina had never been the sentimental type. Through a significant stretch of her life, everything she owned had fit in a single suitcase. Ever since her mom died and she was left alone, she'd never gotten attached to anything. If she left something behind somewhere, it was lost to her forever. She didn't grieve. She didn't linger. It was hers and then it wasn't. That was how her life had always gone.

When she left Gotham behind, she thought she would never look back. Her whole life, she'd been trying to get out of that god-forsaken hellhole of a city, to get away from the wretched slums she was forced to live in, from the skeevy club where she had to work with rancid, drugged-up men eyeing her like a piece of meat, and especially from her scumbag father. Although... he wasn't an issue anymore, was he?

Maybe she should feel something about that, anger or depression or whatever those stages of grief were supposed to be, but all she felt was relief. Now that he was gone, she felt freer than she had ever been, and the very first thing she'd done with that freedom was get the hell outta dodge. Her dark and ugly past was in that dark and ugly city. Her bright future was supposed to be anywhere else.

She had a whole world at her fingertips, so why would she ever go back to the rotten apple that was Gotham? Because she was born there? She'd been raised there? Because her mother, completely inexplicably, had loved that city? Ha! Of course not.

Sentimentality was the kinda thing that got a girl like her killed running back for something she left behind someplace in the middle of the night, or baselessly believing someone who fucked her over in the past could turn a new leaf. So why in the hell was she going back to Gotham? For one score? It wasn't any better than the DC job she could be pulling right now, just closer.

She could deny it all she wanted. She could pull out any excuse in the book to justify her choice to return. But she knew the real reason she was going back wasn't some ancient treasure in some museum.

It was Gotham.

It was like the city itself was calling her back, drawing her towards it, trying to bring her home—no matter how much she wanted to leave and never think of the grim, grisly town again. It was like, even with Falcone dead and her debts paid, the city still had some kind of hold over her. Even though it had killed her friend, and her mother, and chewed her up and spit her out, she owed it something, somehow.

Less than a year had passed, but a lot of the city had already been rebuilt since the Riddler flooded it. The stadium at Gotham Square Garden had been drained and torn down, but construction had already started on a shiny new one. The sea wall had been the first thing to get fixed, patched first as a stop gap, then rebuilt taller and stronger. Given actual security measures so no one could drown the entire city with seven rental vans and a few homemade explosives ever again.

The fact that it had happened even just the once was a testament to what a shit-hole the city was, and how downright awful the people who lived in it were. Not that Selina needed any more evidence than her own personal experience had already given her. She had known that all her life, it was why she wanted out so badly. And she'd gotten out. She'd had exactly what she wanted after the flood. She was free, and gone, racing away as fast as she could, like a cat outta hell.

Now, here she was, driving back across the Brown Bridge on her motorcycle.

Driving ever closer to the hell of her nightmares.

And yet, rather than feeling like she was a helpless kitten, trapped in a sack and drowning in a river... she felt like she was coming home. Like the city was embracing its prodigal daughter.

It made her stomach turn.

She wouldn't be staying, she told herself. She was only there for that museum exhibit, the Jewels of Jeresta, which was on display at the Gotham History Museum, on loan from a small country in South America whose name she couldn't rightly pronounce. God only knows why anyone would let a valuable treasure like that within a hundred square miles of Gotham City, but she sure as hell wasn't about to let this golden opportunity slip past her. Gotham was her home turf, and she knew that museum top to bottom, backwards and forwards, inside and out.

All she had to do was make sure she didn't run into Vengeance and she would be in and out and gone like a whisper on a breeze before the police knew the treasure was missing. Of course, avoiding the Batman was easier said than done.

Even having met him, the Batman was a mystery to her, almost, but not quite, a myth. They said he was the shadows, that he could be anywhere at any time, and that he knew every single thing that happened in the city of Gotham. And though she knew that wasn't entirely the truth, a part of her, however small, still sort of believed it.

Once, Selina had even heard some batty theory that he was the soul of the city itself, a physical manifestation of it. She had laughed at it then and she laughed at it now. Batman was smart, and strong, and resourceful, but he was just a man. Albeit a strange, obsessive, mysterious man, but a man nonetheless. And she was an expert cat burglar. And Gotham was a big city. Surely, she could hide under his nose for a few short days without too much of a problem.

Once she was in the inner city, she got herself a hotel room. She could afford a pretty swanky one these days, between the money she had stolen from Falcone and the jobs she had pulled while she was away, and she wasn't about to deny herself any luxuries after a lifetime of struggling to get by. As soon as she had her cat taken care of—Patch, the only one she'd been able to take with her—she prepared to case the museum.

Selina already knew all of its standard security measures, of course, this was hardly her first time around the block, but there were bound to be some extra features set in place for the jewels.

There was going to be some big, fancy, charity party at the museum to reveal it. Several of Gotham's elite had already been invited to it, but anyone could buy a ticket, and the proceeds and donations were all split fifty-fifty between a foundation for the cultural restoration of the country who'd loaned the exhibit, and another one for cultural enrichment right there in Gotham. Selina, of course, had bought her ticket online in advance.

A year ago, before the flood, she might have been pretty worried about some of the people there recognizing her, and there was still a decent chance that some would, but since Falcone's death, and the inauguration of Mayor Reál, a lot of the city's old fat cats had been replaced with new ones, ones who wouldn't know her face, or at least not as well. Still, she had decided that a new wig and some heavy contouring were in order.

She had chosen the name Catarina Abbot as her cover, and she'd been practicing a traditional southern belle accent as well. No one would ever suspect it was really her, of that, she was all but certain. Or at least, no one who wasn't already in on the con.

It didn't take her too long to get ready, although the stark contrast between the sleek black gown with its rhinestone trim extending down to her ankles, and the tight club outfits she once wore that never dropped below her mid-thigh, would take a little bit of getting used to. She took a taxi to the museum, stepping out onto the long, maroon carpet that had been laid out from the curb all the way to the front door. Clouds hung low in the sky, but the weather forecast had promised that it wasn't going to rain, and it hadn't yet. Selina wasn't about to start holding her breath for it to stay dry though.

Gotham and rain were like cats and claws, to remove the latter from the former would be inhumane. Gotham needed rain like it needed gargoyles, and lead paint, and the sound of gunshots varying distances away every half-hour. These were the things that made it uniquely Gotham, and not some other urban city that smelled like pollution and hot garbage, and looked haunted beyond belief.

Selina smiled at the news cameras, waved, said nothing. As soon as she was inside, her shoulders drooped with relief. Hopefully the makeup was enough that no one would be able to recognize her in the photos, at least not for long enough that she could make her getaway with the goods. She unconsciously tightened her grip on her clutch purse, her sharp, expertly manicured nails digging into the black satin, and sashayed confidently toward the wall.

The main hall of the museum, where the party was being held, had high, arched ceilings with a row of short, wide, windows at the top of the walls. Colorful paintings of nature by a long dead local artist of some renown hung liberally on the cream colored walls, with little brass plaques next to each, declaring the titles and some commentary of the paintings. In the center of the room, was the same tall, black marble statue that had been installed when the museum first opened, decades ago, of a woman cradling a pair of snarling grotesques like babies in her arms.

If Selina's memory served, there had been quite a lot of controversy around the statue. The artist had been commissioned to create a statue which encapsulated natural history in Gotham, and there had been a minor uproar about what the artist had actually delivered not fitting the bill. The artist had argued intensely in the statue's favor, and in the end, refused to make a new one, but accepted a reduced payment for the commission provided they actually displayed it, and as the museum had not had enough money to hire another sculptor, the statue remained.

It was called Mother Gotham and her Beloved Children, and as the years passed, patrons and employees of the museum alike grew quite fond of the marble woman and her monstrous young. Selina herself had stared at it in awe for nearly an hour when she'd gone on her first field-trip to the museum as a schoolchild. She couldn't help staring at it a little, even now. They sold smaller versions in the museum gift shop, when the museum was actually open—paper-weights and key-chains. Perhaps she should come back during normal hours and buy one.

She tore her gaze away from the statue to take in the crowd of guests. Women in luxurious gowns, and well-dressed men in suits mixed and mingled throughout the room. Many of the men stared at her, even here, but not in quite the same way they did at the Iceberg Lounge. Their lasciviousness, though certainly present, was much better concealed. It was a nice party, after all, and they had to be on their best behavior. A woman in a dark purple gown, one with layers of tulle and ruffled shoulders, stopped Selina to compliment her on her dress.

"It suits your figure so well, dear, wherever did you get it?" the woman asked.

"Versace, I believe," Selina laid the accent on thick, but spoke casually, as if she couldn't be bothered to remember which luxury clothing brand had made the most expensive gown that she had ever worn in her life. "But of course I never wear anything that I haven't had fitted by my personal tailor. I do say, she's an absolute miracle worker."

"I can see that," agreed the woman, looking Selina up and down enviously. "Although with a waistline like yours I'm sure it's not too hard to be. Delia Maracus," she introduced finally, gesturing to herself with one hand, and then to the rest of the museum with the other. "My husband, Simon, is the museum curator."

"Catarina Abbot," Selina introduced, placing a hand delicately over her sternum and tilting her head politely, "Collector of fine things."

"Ooh, well doesn't that title have a nice ring to it," Delia remarked, her golden curls bouncing as she leaned closer with interest and then back again with a gentle shake of her head. "I wish I could call myself something that classy, but all I collect are vintage perfume bottles and dusty old books." She laughed at herself, and Selina smiled gracefully.

"Those things are plenty fine, Miss Delia," she said kindly. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, after all. I just so happen to be partial to a cat's eye."

"That's nice of you to say. I've got more of a sheep's eye, most of the time, ha ha." Delia's attention was diverted by something over Selina's shoulder. "Looks like I'm needed elsewhere. It was so lovely meeting you, Miss Abbot, do enjoy the party, won't you."

"Please, Catarina," Selina told her, stepping aside so she could walk past. "And thank you, I intend to."

The Jewels of Jeresta were displayed under bulletproof glass casings in a smaller exhibit room off the main hall, all the way on the far side from the front entrance, and Selina began to make her way toward it as inconspicuously as she could—slowly, keeping to the edges of the floor, smiling politely and making idle small talk with those who approached her, putting forth a concerted effort not to be too reciprocal of their interest in her, so as to discourage them from taking too much of her time.

Then a small voice spoke from behind her. "You look beautiful." Selina turned to see who had spoken, and when she saw him, she blinked in surprise. Though he was quite a bit taller than her, the slope of his shoulders and the angle of his head made him seem slightly smaller than he actually was. His eyes were fixed on her face, but didn't quite meet her own eyes. "My name is Bruce."

"I know who you are, Mr. Wayne," she told him. Reclusive as he was, or had been before she skipped town, everyone in Gotham knew who Bruce Wayne was. She had heard that he'd started making more public appearances ever since the flood, but she definitely hadn't expected to run into him herself during the brief period while she was back in town. He smiled when she spoke, a small, sweet smile, with a hint of humor in it.

"Bruce is fine," he told her, his eyes finally locking on hers for a few seconds before they shifted away. She thought it reminded her of someone else, but wasn't sure. Maybe it was more of a vague aura than an actual person. He certainly had an air about him. "And you are?"

"Catarina Abbot," she said in answer. "You may call me Catarina, if you'd like."

"Catarina," he repeated, and that hint of humor flickered a little brighter behind his blue eyes, like somehow he got the joke, even though there was no way he could have. "That's a lovely name."

"Why, thank you."

"Are you an aficionado of culture, history, or rare and beautiful treasures?" Bruce Wayne asked, swirling the honey-colored drink in his champagne flute. "Or are you just here for the champagne?"

"I have been noted as a collector of fine things," she answered after allowing the joke an airy laugh. "An experience like this one is a fine thing indeed."

"So the treasures, then. Have you seen the exhibit yet?" he asked. "It's quite a sight to behold."

"I've been moseying that way," she admitted. As a guest, she was all but expected to go back and look at the exhibit at least once. There was nothing suspicious about that. "I have been looking forward to it for some time."

"I'd be happy to escort you," he offered, extending an arm for her to take. Though a bit surprised, she accepted, and allowed him to walk her back to the exhibit room where the Jewels of Jeresta were being displayed.

The jewels were breathtaking, and she couldn't wait to steal them. Unfortunately, with Mr. Wayne in the room, watching her with that dopey look on his face, she couldn't look too closely at the security measures without arousing suspicion. Selina made mental notes of the ones she could see without being too obvious about looking. Cameras, of course, motion sensors, the glass casings were sealed against the display podiums, but she couldn't see the release mechanism from where she was standing, and trying to look behind or under would be too obvious.

"Gorgeous aren't they?" Bruce Wayne asked her, and she was struck again by just how soft his voice was. She'd never imagined a billionaire CEO would speak in such gentle tones.

"They are just ravishing," Selina agreed. "Some of the most stunning pieces I have ever laid eyes on. Why, it's a privilege just to look at 'em. I ought to thank the museum curator for his good work."

"I'm sure it was no easy feat, convincing the country of Sanamiguay to loan a collection like this to Gotham," Bruce said. "They've loaned these jewels to museums around the world before, but Gotham's... reputation tends to deter some."

"A reputation well deserved," Selina scoffed, her accent almost, but not quite, slipping as she said it.

"Perhaps," Wayne agreed, nodding and looking back at the jewels behind the bulletproof glass. "But I have faith that Gotham can change. At least, I think it's worth the effort to try."

"Why, Mr. Wayne, you're much more of an optimist than I ever imagined you'd be," Selina remarked. "Listen to you, all starry eyed and dreaming of sunshine."

"Have you lived in Gotham long, Catarina?" he asked. "Judging from your accent, I'm guessing you're not from around here."

"No, I'm from Georgia, the city of Savannah," she told him, "but my family's done business in Gotham since I was a girl. I've seen the city you have faith in, and I wouldn't be so bold as to say that faith is misplaced, but... well, let's just say that I am not of the same opinion."

"I guess you're not entirely wrong to disagree." Wayne shrugged and shifted his weight so he further obscured the camera she was trying to see behind him. "Most people disagree with me. I just don't think everyone should be so quick to write this city off as a lost cause. At the very least, we can have a little hope, can't we?"

"I suppose."

Wayne kept her talking for some time before someone finally interrupted them and dragged the man away, his face scrunching up in displeasure for a moment before he visibly forced a more pleasant expression and allowed them his attention. When the opportunity presented itself, finally, to properly inspect the room, Selina took it. Then she slipped away, out of the exhibit room, and out of the museum, before Wayne tried to engage her again.

It wasn't that she didn't like the man, but he seemed to like her a great deal, and she couldn't afford someone like that getting attached, not when she was planning to disappear without a trace after the job was done. Men with his resources could find her anyway, if she wasn't careful, and in her experience, no matter how polite and seemingly respectful they were, wealthy and influential men could not be trusted.

The next few days, she spent planning her heist. Marking up her entry and exit routes, acquiring or making the necessary tools to enact her plan without any snags. She had every detail accounted for, from the entry to the escape, as meticulous as her pointed nails, and as clear as her objective.

She broke in through one of the high windows, scaling down the wall on a rope she'd tied to the roof. Those windows didn't lock, since they were considered too high up to present a viable security risk. The room with the Jewels of Jeresta had no door, just a wide arched entryway with motion detectors near the floor which activated when the museum closed, but were laughably easy to step over.

Upon inspection, she saw that the sealed glass covers required a key-code to unlock. Lucky for her, she had no intention of unlocking them. She had gotten her hands on a diamond-edged cutter, which she used to slice a circle into the bulletproof glass and reach inside for the jewels. Diamonds really were a girl's best friend.

So far, everything had gone off without a hitch, which of course meant it was time for someone to throw a wrench in her well-oiled machine.

"I'd almost be impressed if I wasn't so disappointed in you, Selina," came a voice from behind her, and she whipped around to see the Batman standing there. "I've already set off the museum's security alarm. The cat's out of the bag. Police are on their way now."

"Then I guess it's time for me to go," she said, snatching up the jewels from the case she'd already opened and sprinting at the Bat. She had hoped that, by rushing him, she could catch him off guard and slip past. She should have known better.

Her back slammed hard against the wooden floor as he hit her in the chest and shoved her down. She was only pinned for a moment before she wriggled out, wrapping her legs around his neck and forcing him sideways before he wrenched her off of him.

They continued their little back and forth with Batman snatching the jewels from her grip one after another and Selina slowly rotating the fight until their positions in the room were switched. Her hands were empty by the time she was on the other side of the archway with her exit route finally clear, at least until the cops arrived. She wished she could nab at least one of those jewels, but if she didn't split now, she'd be caught.

"Thanks for mucking everything up for me again, Vengeance," she sneered at him, and sprinted full-tilt back to the rope she'd climbed in on, scaling it with record speed and cutting it behind her, letting the Batman, who was climbing up after her, fall to the floor. "This was supposed to be easy. Damned Bat."

She wouldn't admit, or even acknowledge, that it had been kind of nice to see him again, despite the circumstances. To see that he hadn't gotten himself killed on his stupid mission just yet, to fight with him, that little back and forth that constituted the first contact she'd had with the man since leaving. No. She was too frustrated to acknowledge any of that.

She ran and leapt across the city rooftops with feline grace, and was halfway down the block before she saw him chasing after her. Apparently the setback of the rope being cut hadn't slowed him down for long. She cursed under her breath and sped up, running as fast as she could as long as she could.

Glancing over her shoulder every few minutes, she kept going, and going, waiting for one of them or the other to trip, let coincidence decide her fate, whether he would catch her and turn her in, or whether she'd escape to steal something else another day.

Finally, she came up against a rooftop with nowhere to go. She couldn't turn, the gap between the roofs on either side was too wide for her to jump it, and she couldn't keep going straight unless she wanted a three story drop into a face-full of sand, broken glass, and whatever other shit ended up on Gotham Beach. Selina skidded to a stop before she accidentally hurled herself over the edge, and looked frantically around for another way out, finding none.

Taking heaving breaths, she tried to recompose herself, and she looked back at the man in pursuit of her. Once he got to her, she'd have to fight her way out again, and she didn't really like her chances, if she was being honest. Her experience and lithe body gave her the edge over a lot of opponents, but not Vengeance. He was bigger, stronger, just as fast, and as much as she hated to admit it, more skilled. His training must've been a lot more extensive than hers.

By the time he reached her, she still hadn't caught her breath, but she stood her ground nonetheless, and lashed out with her nails, aiming for the few square inches of flesh his suit left open. He blocked her easily and countered with a fist, which she narrowly dodged. Their exchange of blows continued, back and forth, a kick blocked, a swipe dodged, an elbow landed, but the recipient recovered quickly.

"You ruined everything!" she complained through labored breaths. "Do you have any idea how much money I would have made on that job?!"

"Is money more important than a nation's cultural treasures?" Batman asked. "More important than your city's reputation?"

"This city's reputation is garbage already," she insisted harshly. "You don't get to decide how I live my life, Vengeance."

"I'm not," he said, dodging another slash of her nails and countering with a sweep of his legs which she somersaulted over before launching herself into his abdomen. "But your life circumstances don't make you above judgment," he grunted, forcing her off of him, "or the law. You're free to do what you want, but not free of consequences."

"You couldn't have left me alone for one damn job?" Stumbling slightly, she regained her footing, but was too winded to attack again. She thought for sure he would be on her as soon as she stopped moving, but he wasn't. He allowed her to catch her breath, his imposing figure blocking any exit, but not making any attempt to catch or cuff her.

"No. Because stopping crime in Gotham is my job."

"Well, you've done your job now, crime stopped," she panted out. "You can go now, unless you plan to put me in handcuffs. That could be fun."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" His voice was as deep and even as it ever was but she would almost think those thin lips of his turned up at the corner, ever so slightly.

"Isn't that what you law enforcement types are into?" she asked, smirking back at him. "If that's what you wanted, you didn't have to go through all this trouble." He took a step forward and she almost took a step back, but she stood her ground.

"You seem... different now," he told her, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

"What do you mean?" she asked. He took another step forward, and she straightened her posture, almost daring him to keep closing in on her and see what would happen. He'd already chased her across two and a half miles of rooftops. It was a challenge she knew he'd take.

"Since you've left... you shoulder less," he said. Another step closer, and this time she had to fight herself not to meet him halfway. "Or you carry it differently."

"I like to call it financial security," she purred, then shrugged vaguely before adding, "and the knowledge that the bastard abuser who probably killed my mom, definitely killed my friend, and tried to kill me, is six feet under. I sleep a lot better these days."

"You really feel that much more comfortable knowing he's dead?" Batman asked her, disapproving but obviously unsurprised.

"I really do," she confirmed, and finally took a step his way. The sky was growing lighter, she noticed. The sun would be rising soon. "Don't you sleep better knowing a bastard like that is off the streets?"

"Someone else has already taken his place," came the response, and he took another step. The space between was only a few feet now, but it felt impossibly wide. At the same time, she wanted to close it and wanted him to stay far away. "That's how it goes. A falcon, a penguin, there's always someone that needs to be stopped."

"And a Bat's gonna stop them?" she asked, a light scoff on his name as she edged ever closer, but never quite close enough.

"I'm gonna try," he said. "Although, you certainly don't make it easy."

"Oh, come on, Vengeance, if it was easy, it wouldn't be fun," Selina teased, resting one hand on her waist and reaching the other up to his face. They were so, so close now, almost pressed up against each other. All she had to do was dig her claws into that pale flesh of his face, and she might distract him long enough to disappear. Her internal debate didn't come to any sort of conclusion before he caught her wrist and held it in a firm but gentle grip, rendering the question moot. "You do know what fun is, don't you, Vengeance?"

"I've heard of it," he answered, his voice so deadpan she let out a huff of laughter. Ever so gently, ever so sweetly, she pushed her hand further, caressing the side of his face, his mask, and his own grip loosened, his heavy black glove sliding down her forearm to settle on her bicep. She had to lean back, to look into those sharp, bright eyes of his. Absently, she wondered if he was wearing those strange video contacts he'd had her use to scope out 44 Below. If he was—and he probably was, since he was a paranoid son of a gun—they really weren't visible from the outside.

The sun was rising. Though the sun itself was hidden behind the city's ever-present cloud cover, it bathed the Gotham skyline in a beautiful orange-yellow glow as it crept up over the churning sea. The scene was too perfect, too beautiful, and Vengeance must have thought the same, because as she stood up on her toes, he leaned down to meet her, and their lips pressed together in a kiss, soft, but needy, gentle, but charged with emotion.

She deepened the kiss and he raised no complaints.

Then, finally, after a very long moment, which felt simultaneously like not nearly long enough, they broke apart. He searched her eyes, and she searched his, but what either of them were looking for, Selina didn't know. Then the Batman took a small step back, and released his steadying grip on her arm.

"Don't try to steal the Jewels of Jeresta again," he said firmly.

"What?"

"They should be appreciated through glass, and then returned to their country," he said. "Leave them alone from now on."

Selina looked at him curiously, wondering what was going through that head of his. "Alright," she agreed at length.

"Then go." She blinked at him in shock.

"That's it?" Her shoes clicked against the rooftop to punctuate her surprised step backwards. "You're letting me go? Are you even gonna call the fuzz?"

"I can still change my mind," he reminded her, and that was all the incentive she needed to walk slowly back toward the other edge of the roof and climb carefully down the drainpipe to the ground.

Once safely back on the sidewalk, she took off at a run toward where she'd parked her motorcycle. It was still there, even after several hours, which was a bit of a wonder, given the locale. She straddled it, revved the engine, and took off toward her hotel to pack up and get out of this city once again.

Patch greeted Selina at the door of the hotel room. He meowed softly and she knelt down to stroke the silky fur between his ears. "It's time to leave, again," she told him, stepping past the cat with purpose. She gathered together all her things, and packed them neatly away in her suitcase. This time, when she left Gotham, she really wouldn't be coming back. This time she'd go somewhere farther away, Metropolis maybe, or maybe somewhere even farther than that, like Chicago, or Detroit.

Anywhere but here.

For years Selina had been telling herself that same thing. Anywhere but here.

"Come on, Patch," she said, scooping up the cat once everything else was in her suitcase. He didn't complain when she gently placed him in the cat carrier. He'd always been so well-behaved when it came to traveling. It was what enabled her to take him with her when all the other strays she had taken in had to be left at an animal shelter. "Time to go."

It took one trip to take everything she had down the elevator to check out of the hotel. She secured Patch and her suitcase to her motorcycle, and she was off again, driving down the streets of Gotham, still early enough to beat commuter traffic. Skyscrapers flew past as she rode down the city streets, neon lights blurring in her periphery. Mist from the perpetually damp streets rose up in a plume behind her.

She was ready to leave this god-forsaken city in her rear-view mirror for good this time. Or so she thought.

The sea wall was in her sights, and Selina didn't slow until she'd almost reached Brown Bridge. Then it was looming in front of her, its towers a gateway to a greater world than Gotham, and yet... she veered to a stop, staring at it. She'd told herself that across the bridge was freedom, was a new life, but she'd already crossed it once, and already, she was back on the Gotham side again.

She'd had her freedom, and with it, she had returned home. She had enough money for now to live the life she pleased, to steal what she wanted and make even more without having to worry about resources. Freedom meant she could do or have whatever she wanted.

And yet... all her belongings still fit in a single suitcase.

She could carry everything she owned in the whole world on her motorcycle.

Maybe freedom wasn't packing up and leaving, going somewhere new every week, and never having any place to come home to. Or maybe it was, after all, what did Selina really know about it? She had been trapped under the thumb of rich assholes, of poverty, of debt, fear, and shitty circumstances her entire life. But if it was, maybe that wasn't the kind of freedom she really wanted.

Maybe freedom was traveling the world, stealing what she wanted, and then coming home, to a nice apartment with more than just Patch, who would get lonely all by himself while she was away. She twisted in her seat to look at Patch in his carrier, at the black duffel bag that held all her mortal possessions. His big yellow eyes stared back at her, glistening in the early morning light.

As a kid, living in an orphanage, the thing she'd wanted most in the world was an actual closet, and not a black garbage bag stuffed under her bed. She had wanted to be one of those women she only saw in movies and magazines, with a new dress every day and dozens of pairs of shoes, and jewelry for every occasion. That had been her idea of decadence, of luxury. She owned two pairs of shoes now, six outfits, three wigs, and hardly any jewelry. It wasn't like she couldn't afford it.

Maybe it was time for Selina to try being a pampered house-cat for a while... after all these years of being a stray. If she didn't like it, she could always go back. If she kept running, she might not have this chance again, this chance to have an actual home. Her hands moved before she had consciously made up her mind, revving her motorcycle and making a U-turn back into the city.

She could spend another few nights at a hotel while she looked for apartments, then once she was settled in, she could look for her next score, and it could be anywhere in the world. And when she finished the job, she would have someplace to come back to. Back in Gotham. Back home.

She rode back past the dingy buildings, past the broken signs and flickering lights, past the cracked sidewalks, past the boarded windows. It was a shit-hole of a town, and that would never change, she was sure. But she'd never truly hated Gotham for what it was. It was a filthy, crime-ridden city full of wretched, awful people.

But it was also full of empathy, of compassion. Not from the crime-lords, and gang-bangers, and skeevy, greedy socialites who cared only about themselves, of course. But the general population of Gotham understood better than most that they were all in the same rotting boat. And if that boat was sinking, and lord knew it was sinking, they'd teach each other to swim.

And Selina? She knew how to swim.

Her bike roared down the road as the city began to wake up.

On a rooftop, overlooking the streets, the Batman smiled.