#this one I'm actually actively writing though

[sheepispink]

hi bb, this is incredibly self-indulgent, but I have a very big idea for ur Ghost and his Sergeant. I'm terrified of the ocean so ofc I need her to be nervous over this mission that's by the coast. she's never said anything bc it's never been necessary, but she can't hide her nervousness from Ghost tho he doesn't pressure her to say anything for now. so when they're done w the mission, they all decide they'll take the next day off, and it's a given they'll go to the beach, right. I need her to be nervous but she's like, chill, staying away from the ocean, until the guys lift her up and she's like rolling her eyes until she realizes they're taking her to the ocean w quick steps, and suddenly she's SCREAMING bloody murder, and Ghost gets his head out of his ass (bc he was buying idk ice cream or a drink idk), and runs over when the guys set her down on the sand, trembling and tearing up, unable to stop herself from being weak and AHHHHHH ur writing would make this cuddle session so fucking GOOD

UR MIND IS LITERALLY AMAZING BECAUSE THIS?? THIS IS SUCH A GOOD IDEA

anyway, as promised, plenty of fluff, plenty of comfort, very yummy story (i hope)

enjoy!!!!!

WC: 4.1k… (😧)

————-

Missions tended to blend into each other when a soldier got too comfortable—an autopilot you were happy to live with for a long time. Though, that was before you were promoted to a Sergeant which still felt like yesterday no matter how long ago it had been. You had soon learned that no day would ever be the same, especially after you were properly taken into Lieutenant Ghost’s unit, rather than the occasional team-ups. It was a big change that’s for sure; it’s not the difficulty, but rather having to prove your worth to a whole new unit. At least your old unit you were pretty much leading; this was like starting from the bottom again, in a way. It shouldn’t prove to be too hard, considering your reputation was holding up nicely.

However, you did have a small weakness; everyone did though this was one that you definitely didn’t want anyone else to be aware of any time soon. So, when the news of another mission came around, you were positive it was something you could handle. Until the news came that you’d travel by ship, having to stay on it for at least two weeks. It’s not even like you had time to process the news, bundled into a truck as you travelled down to the coast. You’d be travelling far, tracking down some bombs that are being transported on a number of different cargo ships travelling across the Atlantic ocean. More importantly was figuring out if they were actually active bombs or rather just sitting ducks–either way, it was something that needed to be dealt with immediately. Considering you had completed a course in demolitions, of course you were immediately necessary for this, so there wasnt even any backing out now. Thankfully, there was a chance you wouldn’t even have to cross over the murky waters, safe on the ship instead. Still, there was no guarantee that nothing couldn’t go wrong.

Ghost wasn’t stupid, he could clearly see just how hunched your shoulders were in every conversation, no matter where you were around the ship. He sees your small flinches everytime a small wave slightly shifts the floor beneath your feet, or the larger ones that spray onto the deck whilst you’re surveying the surroundings. Not even you can hide the quick darts of your eyes each time a small rumble of thunder sounds out overhead nor the teeth marks in your lips when you look out the window for a little too long. One thing that he couldn't possibly ignore, was the widening of your eyes and the anxious tap of your foot as you slowly filed out of the briefing the day before you departed. The only question was to confront you or not. After all, everyone has a weakness and yours may not even be that serious to compromise the mission. It seemed on the same level as getting mad at someone for being woken from a bad dream, or at least he didn't want to embarrass you by possibly blowing it out of proportion.

He was right for the most part, and you had completed the mission as expected– even if your heart was practically pumping out of your chest when you had to cross to the cargo ship and assess the crates for any trace of explosives. Since it was growing closer to summer, he figures the unit may as well stop over by the beach that’s only a one hour drive from the port. Your fellow teammates are excited of course, and so are you, happy to be on ground again even if the ocean will be metres away; anything was better than hovering above it though. As soon as you arrive, a few of the guys drag you along to a local shop, all of you filtering through the aisles to find the best floaties and water guns available.

Ghost leans against the car with his arms crossed over his chest, tapping his foot like a father with his rowdy kids. So since you all act like children, he counts down from ten, watching you and the others scurry and scramble into the seats of the cars. It’s almost laughable at how you all look, pool noodles around two soldier’s waists, water guns gripped in one of the other’s hands and wait– who put a bucket and spade in the boot?

Free for all, except this isn’t the battlefield, no it’s a damn beach and once your feet touch the warm sand, all of you are dispersing into different directions. Ghost looks around, trying to figure out where everyone went in the five seconds he turned to grab the cooler bag, only to see you lounging on a sunbed. He has to admit, he was curious as to how you’d navigate a situation like this with your clear fear. But now he can only scold himself as he slowly approaches you, your head turning before you beckon him over with a wide grin. You’re a trained soldier, you’ll be perfectly fine.. right?

He drops his duffel bag down beside you, getting comfortable on the sunbed as the others run along the beach like bumbling fools. Accidentally he must’ve let out a scoff because you laugh, turning to look at him as his brows unintentionally furrow. “What? They’re runnin’ around like they’re six.” He says gruffly, trying to get comfortable on the small and flimsy sunbed but failing when he realises both his legs barely fit.

“You’re just boring, skullface.” You know he hates that stupid nickname, but it just motivates to use it all the more. Still, his eyes are more focused on the nervous tap of your fingers against your leg, your jaw slightly clenched as you look out at the soldiers running around near the water.

“Oh? I don't see you making sandcastles.. or splashin’ around either.” He watches you freeze at his last words, his eyebrows slighlty beginning to furrow in deep concern. You were so far from the water, practically at the top of the beach but you still looked agitated, like you were just managing to glue it all together.

”Hmph, I'm relaxing before I beat all of you in snooker tonight.” He highly doubts that’s even slightly possible, but you’re quite adamant on the former as you stretch out and get ready fro your midday nap. Of course, how could he forget your daily necessity? Regardless of that, he sticks firmly by your side, satisfied that you werent so nervous that you wouldn't be able to nap peacefully— or maybe that was because he’d scare off anyone in a 5 mile radius just with that mask alone. He settles on watching the waves lap until he gets bored enough to aimlessly scroll on his phone, unable to find anything to captivate his attention long enough. Damnit, you were rubbing off on him. After stealing your book for a bit, the heat of the sun finally sets on his nerves and he heads towards the small bar, looking for a cool drink. Just before he leaves though, he adjusts the umbrella above where you lay, a little worried that you’d overheat in your sleep but your head feels fairly cool against his hands, for now at least.

Footsteps, they’re soft in your ears muffled by rocks that are kicked. There’s small snickers too, coming from different directions and no matter where you try and run to chase one, they always appear right behind you again.

Splashing, it’s colder now, a breeze washing over your body and making you shiver.

Strain, your arms feel tight, as do your legs, like you’re being stretched like those stupid toys that were always advertised but you never actually got.

“Is she up yet?” A voice says, so close yet so far.

“Nah, still out.” Accompanied by laughter.

A splash of water on your face has you attempting to sit up only to fail immediately, your wrists locked in a tight hold, ankles kicking restlessly. “What? Who—?” Your head turns frantically, confused and instinctively wanting nothing more but to be free.

“Chill out, we’re just giving you a little diving lesson.” The soldier who you’d giggle with on patrol holds your legs, laughing at your shocked face. As you look around, you realise the fellow soldiers you’ve shared meals with for two weeks have kidnapped you from your napping spot, carrying you somewhere.

It’s fine, they’re your friends, they wont hurt you.

“Hey! I was sleeping very peacefully y’know.” You huff, playfully though still half awake, rolling your eyes as you slacken your protests.

”Yeah, drooling too.” The one holding your wrists laughs as the one walking alongside them pinches your cheeks. Damnit, they’re so damn annoying all the time arent they? Ghost’s right, they’re like little kids with the way they ran straight into the ocean—

Ocean?

Your head snaps to the side, managing to strain your neck only to see that the one holding your legs has already stepped towards the shore, water now splashing gently onto the sand beneath you. “Hey— wait, where are you taking me?” You’re thrashing around now, panic bubbling in your throat as your nails press into the soldier’s hand, scrambling for them to let go. “Oh come on, just a small splash.”

You hate their laughter, you hate this, you hate having to watch the waves rise over his foot as they carry you in, your heart thumping louder with each second. “Let me go!”

They don't listen— why wont they listen?

The water is up to his ankles, too high for your liking and you’re not scared anymore— you’re fearing the worst. Images flash through your mind, the horrible splashing of their steps louder than the pounding in your head.

You kick, wriggle, squirm, anything and it’s useless— why is it so useless?

Their steps are making droplets splash on you, the water is growing higher, ready to consume and you’re cold, too cold even with the sun burning through you. Cold with soaked cheeks.

Ghost hears the screams first, so high it almost sends him into a frenzy only nightmares have brought him crumbling to. He doesn't think, spilling the can of coke without a second thought as he runs over, sand kicking up with each heavy step of his stupid army boots he wears all the time. The crowd of soldiers are shoved to the side by his hands, carving a path directly to you who now sits in the sand right by the shore, trembling so harshly as you pull your knees to your chest, albeit with great struggle. “Woah, woah, you’re okay— you’re not wet. See? Sand, look you’re on the sand.” But you’re too far gone, your hair falling over your face as you hunch over, hands grasping at nothing but the air. Your face is starting to grow wet from the silent tears,trickling down your cheeks and kissing your legs, the wet feeling making you fear the worst has happened.

“What the hell are you all staring at?” His Lieutenant's voice comes back like it never left, the soldiers standing to attention just as fast and scrambling away before they feel the wrath of the man before them.

You’re trying your best to shovel it all in, all the fears but it’s near impossible, not when you can still hear the splashing, not when you can hear the laughter of the kids down the beach. Not here.

“Up we get, come on.” He places his hand beneath your arms and hoists you up to stand, one hand slipping behind your back to rub up and down, trying to get you to your senses. “You’re all dry, okay? Nothing happened, you’re alright.” He’s trying to keep his voice as calm as he can for you but it’s near impossible when you’re looking like that before him, like a person whose nearly missed death. Dammit, you didnt even look this bad when you were shot in the leg, and that was a pool of blood to say the least.

He leads you away from the shore, bringing you to a small cobbled footpath away from all the cafe’s, loud icecream vans and children screaming about needing to pee. His hand continues to rub slow circles, continuously soothing your trembles as he reminds you to breathe in and out. Only when everyone was out of sight did he pick you up properly, hoisting your legs to wrap around his middle as one hand pushed your face into his shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get you into the car, okay?” Sure he should’ve done that way earlier, clearly by the way your hands were shaking like crazy. But if he knows anything about you, he definitely knows you don't want to make a scene. Being seen as weak is practically the worst thing for you, not that he thought what happened made you weak, but he already knew what you’d be saying if he had swooped you up right then and there in front of everyone.

“Ghost— i..” You begin to sniffle out but he shakes his head, firmly patting your back in confirmation. “Nope. Quiet— don't wanna hear it.” He carries you further down the road, turning into the empty parking lot near a small block of houses. Finally he reaches the car, windows tinted to hide you as he opens the door with one hand, a low groan escaping him before he finally settles you in the backseat. Going around to the boot, he opens it quickly, grabbing a spare towel he brought and rummaging through a bag that was supposed to be for the team’s silly movie night later. Not that he’d participate, but he felt giving them some snacks would be a good mission well done.

Your eyes are locked onto your knees, refusing to look anywhere and your face has dried up, slightly red from how harshly you had rubbed at your eyes. He settles in beside you, about to offer you a drink when you’re clenching the seats, eyes already tearing up once more.

“It’s fine— really, i just- I was just a little shaken, they didn't mean it, I wasn’t properly awake yet and it startled me. ” You ramble between breaths, unable to find an excuse to rebuild your dignity in time but he just lets out a long breath, anger clearly holding back. A soft towel is draped around you, covering your upper half entirely as he folds it over your front.

“You dont need to explain. It’s fine— i dont like the damn beach either.” He mumbles out, not sure how else to express the fury he feels that you had to feel that terrified, more towards himself for leaving you alone when he knew you were uneasy. All he can do for now is place an arm around your shoulders as you continue to quietly sniffle and tremble at the shock and horror you felt in the past ten minutes. You were clearly uncomfortable too, and how badly he wanted to tell you that he didn't care if a colour terrified you, nor a tiny butterfly; he just wanted you, as with the few he really cares about, to be comfortable and happy. Never should someone have to face their fears like that, he knows what that can do to a person. But he can't word it properly, can't express how you’re the strongest he knows and the smartest and every other good adjective in the damn dictionary because you are that. And he refuses for you to believe otherwise just because the majority aren't scared of the same things you are.

Your nose presses into the sleeves of your shirt, eyes scrunched tight as you try to will the tears away. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” It’s stern, too harsh, but he doesn't know what else to do, just wanting to wipe that miserable look on your face. “There’s nothing to apologise for.. Do you need me to leave?” He asks, suddenly wondering if you’d calm down quicker if he just left you alone. Of course you would, who would want this stiff man rubbing their back while crappily convincing them that they’re not drowning and just got a scare from a stupid idiotic prank? He could at least speak a bit more, reassure you that whatever you choose is fine but nothing comes to his mouth. You shake your head thankfully, refusing to let him leave you alone.

“Are you annoyed with me?” Your voice is quiet, so quiet, and he hates that you feel this small. You should be smiling and having fun like everyone else, not tearing up infront of your lieutenant who you just barely felt comfortable around— or well, he thought that was the case.

“Never.” He says gruffly and he’s caught off guard when you hug him tightly, one that has him stuttering to breathe for a moment. Though his shock is quickly broken when your sniffles pick up, quiet sobs hitting his chest head on. He wants to complain, beg you to stop crying because not even he can bear to see you like this. But he knows whilst it pains him, you need to let it out for all the weeks you’ve been terrified for and stayed strong. His arms wrap around you just as tight, his chin resting above your head as he feels his shirt wetten by the second.

“You’re stronger than me.” He murmurs quietly, one hand gently rubbing your shoulder as he just sits there, letting you take whatever ounce of comfort you somehow receive from him. “You could’ve given up long ago but you didn't. How could I be mad at someone who's worked so hard to keep the rest of us safe even when they didnt feel safe themself?”

Oops. He might’ve made you cry a lot harder with that one, and his eyes widening show his momentary panic as he tries to soothe you again, tucking you as close as possible.

You settle a while later, pulling away just enough to wipe your reddened eyes. His eyes are softened as he looks down at you, partially glad he doesn't have to burn alive in the sun anymore and can just spend time with you in this car.. though it’s warming up pretty quickly. You seem to have the same thoughts as him because you look up, unable to stop a little smile crawling onto your lips. The sight is bright, even the tears in your eyes making them sparkle more than usual. “Why’re you looking at me like that?” He asks, hoping you’d keep doing that a little longer.

“You’re sweating like crazy..” You’re half tempted to snicker, but it comes out more like a sniffle and he just lets out a breathless sigh, rolling his eyes as he squashes your cheeks. “I do all this and that’s what you say? You’re a minx, yknow that?”

Well, he supposes it is your day off, and he’s restless as it is anyway. So, he pretends to huff at you, even if you see past him instantly, and slides out the seat beside you to get into the driver's seat. You follow, climbing into the passenger seat and he straps you in before you can even try. He rolls down the windows after he starts driving through the town, letting the summer air refresh you all while he’d occasionally look over every time he got caught in a little traffic. . But you looked like you needed a moment to gather your thoughts and yourself, so he’d give you that, for now at least.

He takes you to the nearest mall, hunting down one of those ice cream shops, but not something basic, no, that’s just boring. “Amorino?” Your voice is muffled by the skull mask he reluctantly let you borrow— but you looked uncomfortable walking around with the tear stains still on your cheeks, so he relented quickly.

“Pick your flavours.” You get your two favourites, picking them both until he urges you to pick another, not that you can decide. “Can't you just pick your favourite for me?” That’s how you end up with a cone in your hand, a pretty flower shaped ice cream right on top with each of your flavours curved into petals. He sips his milkshake, watching as you stare in complete awe as you both walk through the mall. “How— what? This is sick, Ghost!”

“If you keep staring at it, it’ll melt before you even try it.” He watches your eyes go wide, quickly licking up the sides to catch any melting parts before instantly grinning at the overwhelming sweetness. “This is like— top tier!” Though he does end up facepalming when you grip his sleeve tightly, groaning about a brain freeze.

He lets you try out the crappy claw machine games, and then even tries on one Hawaiian shirt all while you’re giggling so hard you almost trip over. He has to hold your wrist after that, but you don't complain, using it as an opportunity to drag him wherever you want, and he follows.

It’s almost seven pm, and he takes you back to the hotel since you and the team planned to get dinner. He still had to have a virtual briefing with Price, so you would be on your own for this one. They’re waiting for you in the lobby, the three culprits from before standing anxiously. “I’ll be in the car, on the phone to Price and the others.” It’s a silent offer, giving you a chance at any time to return to where he is and sit in the back if you need to get away for whatever reason. He’d prefer to be beside you, but at least this gives you a safe way out. “Alright, thanks. I’ll head in now— just make sure you grab something to eat too? Okay?” You give him a smile, before you awkwardly step inside the hotel, approaching the others. Ghost’s hands tense, fists clenching as he watches for any sign of the idiots acting up again. Thankfully, they learnt their lesson and they immediately apologise to you, frowns on all their faces before lighting up when you extend your forgiveness to them. You were scared they’d laugh at you, but Ghost knew that they saw you like a little sister— even if they were absolute idiots sometimes. He decides to leave you after watching you leave the hotel with them, heading for a restaurant down the street as you link arms with a female soldier you know, grinning.

It’s late when he hears a soft rap at the hotel room door, confused at who could possibly knock at this hour. “It’s me, Lt.” Werent you supposed to be watching movies with the others?

“Come in.”

You open the door with the keycard he gave you earlier, dressed in your pajamas and with a bowl of popcorn in your hand. Quietly you walk over to where he lays on the bed, settling on the other side as you place the bowl between the two of you. This is how it goes for the next twenty minutes or so, you scrolling through your phone and watching stupid videos as you nibble on the popcorn all while he continues to read his book, occasionally grabbing a piece of popcorn just to keep you happy. It only ends when he catches you yawning from the corner of his eye, one, twice and thrice. “You should get some rest. You’ve had a long day.” He hums, flicking to the next page as he continues to read but the words aren't really going to his head in the slightest, his mind fixated on you.

“Hm.. okay.” You sigh, before placing your phone onto the bedside table and tucking yourself beneath his blankets, now watching him from your

position smushed against his pillow.

“You have your own bed, Sergeant.” He states, raising a brow but he’s particularly careful not to lower nor raise his voice, keeping it central as he looks at you and closes his book.

“Hey, you said I was welcome if it was an emergency.”

He did say that, perhaps a long, long time ago when you first came bundling into his life before he even knew you that well. Besides, it’s not like he planned to actually kick you out. So for now he just lets out an empty scoff, goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth before turning the lights off by the switch. The room is shrouded by darkness and you look around, wondering where he went, when two arms wrap around your front, bringing you forward against his chest. “Don’t make me regret this.” He says gruffly, but you know he doesn't care all that much, and he knows that your playful facade is trying to hide the trembles that still linger in your hands when you hear the ocean lap outside your room’s window. Tonight, he’s holding you tight and never letting you go; he’d be found dead before he ever lets anything snatch you, whether that be the ocean, someone, or even fear itself.

———

COD masterlist

[cogglebee]

Hello tumblr, I come to you humbly with nothing but a leshycat fic and a dream LMAO no I'm just gonna info dump about it here because there's some important information that I think some people are gonna want going into this.

So the whole thing is inspired by the Motorcycle.jpg ep by Slaughter Beach, Dog, there's gonna be 4 chapters, one for each song on the ep. The whole thing is based around the idea that each of the mini bosses you fight was once a regular critter like the rest of the followers you see in the game until they were transformed by the bishops in a dark ritual. (Pulled from the most recent dev ama on reddit)

So following this, I decided to make Amdusias and the Yellow Cat the same guy. The concept is that once indoctrinated into the cult, the Lamb wants to keep him around for as long as possible.

He was the first real beast they defeated after all. Amdusias is like a living trophy to the Lamb. So every time he dies he gets brought back, and every time he comes back he looks a little more like his old self (green fur fading back to yellow, horns shrinking down and becoming fuzzy till they're his cat ears again)

Amdusias is incredibly adverse to the whole cult and the Lamb and anything to do with the Red Crown in general. The first chapter mostly focuses on him slowly becoming more and more part of the cult, the deaths and resurrections, basically all the set-up before we get to the leshycat stuff

He is eventually entirely devoted to the lamb, as much as the can be anyway. Afterall, how can you worship a dead god? So he is made a disciple of the Lamb, and everything is fine (Its not, he is unwell)

But then Leshy is indoctrinated as a follower, and shenanigans ensue

Shenanigans being Amdusias coping with both seeing his former god just HERE, ALIVE, OUT AND ABOUT

More happens, but I don't want to be too spoiler-y with the rest, there is a lot of emotional angst and romantic fluff. The romance part is probably going to look super cringy because I literally know nothing about that (aromantic author) but I'm writing about a worm chaos god and some fucking cat from a video game about cults becoming boyfriends so how much does it even matter???

[tiktowafel]

do you ever think about how all you used to draw when you were 10 was ponies and that you should still know how to do that, then get an idea and proceed to draw something like these in nearly one sitting and it turns out better than any drawing you've done in the entire past month

sooo anyway does anyone have cutie mark or pony name ideas for them?? lol

[buttercupshands]

My emotionally immature ass still doesn't understand a thing of how people can pity characters

Not like I don't try to understand it! I just... Can't? Understand that??? At all???

Like why would you pity a character for their sad backstory or whatever, and poof suddenly a character is pitiful as hell, and suddenly they're understandable because a person can call them a wet kitten under their care

And that's something I can't do for some reason

And again, not like I didn't *try*, it's just a thing I can't understand at any capacity other than 'some people do that to show their affection of that character, that's their way of caring

Granted talking to more people makes you understand them better! Doesn't help much! But it's something!!

[bcneheaded]

hmmmm..... i think I'm gonna be a little more strict on my followers/following rules mayhaps. just a little. I did update them by the way... just a bit.

[uhuraprime]

Does anyone else have any old fics they wrote like a decade ago that they're not super proud of but also deleting/orphaning them feels... wrong? It's like throwing away your childhood drawings. You might want to look back on it at some point, even if they're 'cringe' to you.

[hoziersong]

i do like going to college (at least for now lol) but the way it has rewired some of my thought processes is actually very jarring

[foxmulderautism]

no but like there's writers out there attending classes by garth greenwell ocean vuong brandon taylor etc meanwhile the intro to creative writing class i did in my first year was run by a guy who declared repetition 'lazy' and called one of the student's pieces perfect in workshop as if that's how you should run a workshop

[gxlden-angels]

the only person who was actually right about the world and human nature was Max striner everyone else is a fucking moron

Striner? I hardly know 'er!

Anyways, I'm not a philosophy expert. I'm just some guy. I like the egoist belief that there isn't a universal moral truth. I like the absurdist belief that, because nothing matters, we should be radically sincere. I like the christian belief in a place without suffering after this life. I like the Universal Random Number Generator idea my therapist and I talk about

All of them have their flaws though. Egoism gets used to condemn social movements and civil rights advocacy. Absurdism and the RNG can create a sense of existential dread and a loss of motivation. Christianity encourages the loss of identity and free will

I'm just some psych student with a weird ass therapist that understands my weird ass brain. He encouraged me to look into absurdism since I took a class on absurdist literature my freshman year of college and he said I might enjoy looking into the actual philosophy. And I do! At least a lot of it! I like the idea of a chaotic universe and us humans trying our best to control it. I like the idea of letting that go and living authentically instead of with a direct purpose. There's chaos and mayhem and entropy and I'm just here to react to it. And I can react in ways that makes others happier if I wanted just because I can

Egoism/egotism feels too disconnected from the human need to connect to me. It traps me into that feeling that doing something good for someone is selfish if you're doing it to feel good. I'm actively working to get out of that spiral Christianity put me in now

I don't know, though, anon. I'm just some college student with an ex-christian tumblr blog and a lot of trauma. I like to believe there's some Universe-sized Abstract Computer with a random number generator that causes the chaos we call home. I skim wiki pages and reddit posts and decided if I want to engage any further/look for textbooks. I could possibly be looking at the wrong page about the wrong philosophy. I'm honestly just on this earthly plane for the bit

[thestripiestshirts]

Back when I was majoring in elementary education we had to do these presentations of lesson plans in which people went up and gave a lesson as if the rest of us were the elementary students they were teaching. This one guy's lesson was about the phases of the moon, and he very confidently did his whole lesson... explaining to us that the moon's phases were caused by the shadow of the Earth on the moon. At some point I finally couldn't take it anymore and raised my hand to explain that that's not how the phases of the moon were caused. I forget the presenter's response to this, but good number of people in the class got annoyed with me for "ruining it."

I used to be a grader and an occasional substitute prof for an introductory astronomy lab. That means that the majority of the people in this lab are only taking it because it’s a requirement and about half of them think it’s an astrology class.

I was grading midterms and this one girl. She was so nice and I think she was a business major. Fuck. The question on the midterm was to draw a diagram of the solar system and this poor girl. This fucking girl had drawn a Mars-centric solar system. As in every planet and the sun were orbiting Mars. I now actually have a custom Cards Againsy Humanity card I got at a con that says “A Mars-centric solar system”

I had a boy argue with me that there was liquid water on the moon (this was around when they had found liquid water on Mars in ~2015) and he wouldn’t believe me that he likely meant Mars and not the moon. After I marked his answer to the relevant lab question wrong, he took it to the department head who had promptly laughed him out of the office.

And there was another boy who, during a lab in our observatory where we would look at certain things in the sky, asked where the sun was. At 10pm in November. After some questioning it was revealed that he thought the moon and the sun were the same thing.

[sheeezu]

Yes, this is a new account, I just made this. I don't care if people question the authenticity of my post, my experience as a shifter, or whatever I'm about to say.

I don't know how to use Tumblr, nor do I know how to make my post reach people who need it, nor would I be a narcissist and say "you're lucky if you found my post!" I don't mind if this reaches an audience or not, I'm glad to get everything off my chest.

Yes. I've shifted.

I have shifted realities, more times than I can count on my fingers, and that is for a very specific reason, which I'll explain later.

I'm writing this because I'm about to permashift, and no, I won't hear out any antishifters or people who don't like permashifting in general, I don't care about your opinion so don't waste my time.

Before I start, I'd like to say one thing:

I was irrational minded, I lacked belief in myself and shifting. Shifting often times felt like a chore more than a fun activity, and i have to admit, it became an unhealthy habit.

So? Why did I mention this?

Because I had been lurking around shifting communities and I realised everyone feels like this, a very (mentally) painful feeling where the lack of shifts starts acting as your biggest enemy, and the phrase:

"Shifting needs practice!"

Sounds like poison when it comes from an experienced shifter.

Though, is the phrase actually true?

No, not at all.

Shifting does not need practice!!

Here's why:

(BTW, I will explain my "method", no matter if I have time or not. Also, I don't call this reality "Current Reality", instead I call it Void reality, so don't get confused.)

The "practice" you're doing is only affecting your void reality (taking time out of your day, making you constantly think you're in your learning phase, so it doesn't exactly lead to your desired reality, does it?)

Of course, if you view it as a skill, it will in some way act like that, it'll become a skill for you, and you can never succeed on your first, second, third, hundredth try, because in your brain you have registered the fact that shifting is this grand, universal task, and that it is very difficult (because its common sense that you practice difficult things to get good at them)

Practice is a very humane and earthly act, if people have succeeded doing just practice, then good for then, they're right in their own way, but it didn't work for me, and in my opinion it's the worst way to view shifting, and often times it is demotivating, and you'll mess up you're entire journey.

Shifting is not a skill, shifting is a universal law.

I'll become more clear as I explain my journey:

My journey:

I found shifting from a random YouTube video 3 years ago. I might have only said cool and moved along.

A year later something traumatic happened in my life, which shook me so badly I needed an escape.

First of all, I chose astral projecting, but I realised I was too much of a coward to do so.

Then I came towards shifting, first DR was very typical, it was Hogwarts.

Having no knowledge whatsoever in the topics of spirituality, meditation, I went straight to methods, because they were like guides for me, I was very inexperienced, of course, and looked at other people and what they were doing for guidance.

Alice in wonderland method didn't do much, raven method was too uncomfortable (side note, all this raven method does is make you too focused on your void reality, cmon, in your DR are you laying down like a starfish?) And I was having terrible trouble with my intrusive thoughts (which made the floor disappear from under my feet, made the stairs for the stairs method too short to climb or straight up made them dissappear as well)

I didn't have any luck that year, no mini shifts, no lucid dreams, or sleep paralysis. And my DRs never remained constant. They always changed on a daily basis.

I was big on methods, I couldn't realize they never worked for me.

Although, this year of failure led me to finally figure out where I belonged.

A DR made out of scratch, which I spend much effort in putting the pieces of it together.

The DR, which was called "Home reality" really made me feel settled in my journey.

LOA, and the consciousness theory were the leading factors which made me shift.

And don't worry, it isn't what you're tired of being told, I didn't just apply any orthodox definition of LOA and succeeded.

Background to my first shift:

It was a particularly stressful day, I really missed my home.

I was studying at my college (I still am, but...) and I was dreading giving a chemistry test, I did not prepare. In my mind, one thing was constantly looping in my head.

The scenario of the chemistry teacher coming in, and taking the test, and the next day I get it handed back with a big fat zero.

But then I stopped and wondered, having already known about the consciousness theory, so according to it:

"I am constantly letting this thought run in my mind, and constantly letting this reality dictate what happens next."

Basically, I realized what was about to happen next was indirectly in my control, but with my line of thinking, I was letting this reality control it directly.

I stopped, like actually stopped thinking.

And with a blank mind I thought.

"I won't have to take any test today."

And went around telling my classmates this with a confident tone.

The teacher came in, said we'll instead do some practicals in lab.

So the test got cancelled.

Going home, I got excited, i felt powerful.

I decided to apply this to shifting.

Before shifting, I took a nap during the day, (if you're tired your body insists on sleeping, so your mind will get hazy and you will start acting lazy towards your goal)

And after living how I normally would, before bedtime, I listened to some songs, and look at a Pinterest board which reminded me of my home reality.

My method and what happened next:

First phase of shifting:

When I laid down on the bed to start shifting, I first got comfy (for me, if I feel sleepy for some reason, I laid on my back, I can't fall asleep in that position, but if I think ill stay awake until I reach a "detached state" then I sleep on my side, it's comfortable)

I obviously wasn't checking the time, but I spent about 10 minutes getting relaxed, all I do to relax is:

a) look at the blackness (closed eyes, looks like starry skies) and try to believe I'm looking at the milky way.

b) think about my home reality, just faces of my loved ones, and nostalgia inducing images.

c) Affirm, but don't focus entirely on affirming, usually in the back of my mind I'm repeating "I have shifted to my home reality" "I have shifted my senses to my home reality" "I have stopped sensing the void reality" "I am smelling, tasting, feeling, hearing and seeing my home reality" no other fancy affirmations required. (Now that I think about it, you need to affirm NOW because this method has two phases, one where you are shifting, and one where you have shifted, and you are in the 3D, where you are occupying your DR self, their thoughts, and memories, and popular method usually only have one phase, either you are shifting, or have shifted. So my point is if you affirm later and you'll be affirming when you're supposed to be in your DR, and obviously, your DR self won't be spouting out affirmations about shifting to a random reality for no reason.)

During this time, you'll feel tingly all over. It's a good sign.

And you'll feel a certain detachment, like you aren't exactly here, you have no idea what position you're lying in, and where your feet are. (Please, for the love of God do not start counting your feet or get freaked out that you can't feel your leg, you'll come back to the void reality.)

So you can start the next phase.

Middle phase (optional):

To prepare for the next and last phase, you can do this to get ready, or don't (First read the third phase)

This is all about connection to your DR.

Think about memories from your DR, focus on the faces of your loved ones, the way you act, talk, your mannerisms in your DR, or you can simply say affirmations like these one:

My name is ___.

I work as a ___.

My age is ___.

Don't try to imagine vividly or anything, lightly touch upon the basic details of your DR, the construction and foundation of any reality and the person, who has existed there for their entire life.

(That's you!)

Phase three:

Take a sudden, abrupt stop from your stream of thoughts. (Yes intrusive thoughts will still pop up but don't give any importance to them) when you're in a blank state of mind, not longer than 30 seconds, you need to build up to the last step of your shifting method, and journey.

a) start imagining hearing the voices of your loved ones or just any voice, calling your DR name, your nicknames, with different tones. (For example, i heard my name in an angry tone from my father when he was scolding me, I heard my name followed by a laughter when my S/O teased me.)

OK, for me, I started feeling intense, groundshaking symptoms at this moment. Sudden flashing of lights, extreme feeling of floating, and ofcourse, feeling tingliness so much that it felt like pins and needle on my entire body. (I did ignore the symptoms)

b) plan the rest of your day in your DR, which you will be spending.

AGAIN, PLEASE DON'T SAY IT LIKE THIS.

❌️When I reach my DR ❌️ I will have to go to that eye specialist for that appointment.

Instead: (and the more you personalize it, the better)

Ughhh, I have to go to that appointment- this day will suck.

(Don't mind my example, that was the only thing I could think of at the moment)

c) in this reality, you are constantly thinking of something, your thoughts are definitely what constructs this reality, and your current thoughts are affecting your subconscious. (By this point, your subconscious is grounded in your DR, so don't worry about that bastard.)

Now, you're going to start thinking, thoughts which are going on in your DR self's mind, start with one sentence, with which you'll be able to start consciously thinking like your DR self.

And think in the style, tone, and mood of your DR self, and keep the thoughts strictly related to your DR.

Thats it, but what happens afterwards? And what happened to me?

So for me, I started feeling weird while I was thinking.

And I remember I thought this:

"Ugh, I don't want eggs for breakfast."

(I'm not saying this is the key to shifting, at this point, I had covered various topics, including, weather, my upcoming work assignment, and praised my S/O for a good 5 minutes.)

And I started panting, like suddenly I was trying to catch my breath, the room felt bright, so I opened my eyes, and well, I was in my home reality :)

I was delirious for a few second, my S/O was looking at me worriedly, but surprisingly, it didn't even take me a minute to adjust, it felt all so natural and I wasn't scared.

I didn't even feel emotional, at all, and didn't hug my S/O with tears in my eyes, I straight up asked to be served breakfast, incase anyone was wondering.

So that's it.

Although i have much to say, I'm tired of writing, but I'm more than willing to answer each and every one of your questions, although I only have 7 hours left till I permashift, I'll remain mostly active till then.

And no, I'm not rereading this to fix my grammar, so just ask if anything confused you.

Ask away.

I'm still not sure if this'll reach anyone or not.

[aerofbreath]

Actually writing something based off of this post. Y'all really seemed to like it and I got scared LOLOL

(How it will probably go (written poorly written cause it's almost 7AM and I haven't slept yet) . Also I have no idea what I'm doing. This will be rewritten better in a fic maybe.)

Jason sighed as he made his way into Gotham University's gym. It was the middle of the day and Jason was there at a Startup Event posing as a guy who was interested in what people had to offer. He had only had maybe a total of four hours of sleep since he had patrol the night before. Granted, this wouldn't have affected him as much if he was more mentally prepared to be awake. The only reason why he's out here was because Bruce had woken him up an hour ago to tell him a little last minute about what he needed to do today. Originally, the plan was to do absolutely nothing. But now he has to investigate a guy that Bruce had his eye on as of lately.

The person he's looking for is a man named Danny Nightingale. Apparently he's been in Gotham for a couple years and only recently started making a mess of things. How it went under Bruce's nose is beyond him considering how freaked out Bruce was once he did find out.

Apparently, the guy has been making life changing machines. Little mechanical bees have been flying around Gotham really just sucking up all the pollution in the air and just depositing it somewhere. According to the media, they go back to some headquarters and into a bee hive looking structure to deposit all the pollution and sludge. From the photos shown, it's actually pretty impressive. Some guy actually making a change around here.

For Bruce- no. For Batman, this is just highly suspicious. Why would some guy make these positive life changing machines? For the better? No. No genius with the power to change the world would do it for the better. There's got to be some ulterior motive behind it.

At least, that's what Batman thinks.

Jason thinks it's all interesting. Maybe there is an ulterior motive but even then, at a scale so large that it's literally affecting the city in a positive way? You've got to be literally more insane than the Joker if you wanted to plaster your face everywhere at an event like this. Everyone else at this event seemed to show promise but compared to Danny Nightingale's company? They're literally all small fry.

Surprisingly enough, however, no one else seems to be at Danny's booth. Not even Danny. Jason frowned as he approached the booth and just looked at the machines on them. The Bees are kind of just flying in place and the moment that Jason even looked at them, the Bees immediately got to work. They flew around him like a puppy with wings, nuzzling against him and bumping into him so dumbly. And honestly?

It was actually kind of cute. You would think that being on such little hours of sleep and being grumpy the whole morning would really affect the pits inside him but no. He's surprisingly calm.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! They don't usually act like this," a voice stuttered out. A man hastily walked towards Jason as he gently plucked the Bees out of the air and brought it close to him.

"Uh, don't worry about it. I thought it was kind of..." Jason trailed out before locking eyes with the man who spoke.

This was Danny Nightingale. He was much shorter than Jason, only standing tall at 5' 5". His hair was fully black with only a white money piece right on his bangs. And his eyes? An alluring blue with only a hint of green at the center of his eyes. Honestly, the sight of Danny just about took Jason's breath away.

There was a subtle glow to him, almost making Jason think of there being some sort of meta activity going on but looking around the people in the area, no one but him seems to notice. Danny was concerned about Jason, that much is obvious. The way his eyes burrowed in concern then into confusion. It's strange why just looking at him made Jason's heart skip a beat, even though in hindsight, Danny looks much worse off than Jason.

That man looks like he hasn't slept in 3 weeks. But even then he was...

"Cute..." Jason finally finished his sentence a little too late.

Danny blinked in confusion, tilting his head to the side. His bangs fall freely over his eyes. Just the sight of that almost made Jason blush. "My bees were cute?" Danny spoke, the tone of his voice (very tired) sounded like a sweet harmony in Jason's ears. "Oh! You're interested in Nightech? No one else seems to be interested in my stuff yet. I can tell you all about this company and how it works? I put in a lot of work and love into these little guys and I'm sure you would love them too!"

Blah blah blah. Proper name. Place name. Backstory stuff.

Nothing of what Danny is saying is registering in Jason's brain right now. Maybe some. ("I... Love... You...")

"I love you too!!" Jason blurted out.

Danny blinked before widening his eyes. "Wh-What...?" There was that look of concern again but now there's another look. Recognition...

Whatever. None of that right now. This is embarrassing!

"I-I said I love your company. Uh. Do you have a business card? I can let Bruce Wayne know about this."

Wordlessly, Danny gave an information card to Jason before that poor brick of a man just ran out of there, not once even looking back. Honestly, from the way it's playing out in Jason's head right now, he feels like a princess running away from her prince at the stroke of midnight. The earpiece crackled before a voice started to speak.

"Jason? What the hell was that?" Bruce's voice questioned.

It was only when Jason left the gymnasium that he answered, "Me digging my own grave for the second time, old man. Let me go die in peace."

"No, no," Dick's voice chimed in, "Only after we replay that very short conversation about 50,000 times. Thank you very much."

Jason only groaned in response.

Danny, back in the gymnasium, only stared at the door that Jason left from in horror. The only way for people to react that way to him like that is for them to be dead or liminal. Now he has to figure out a way to tell Bruce Wayne that this person that he seems to know is a little bit dead!

This actually is a part of whatever the fuck I'm writing. I'm still thinking of a fic name. But all of the random posts go together in some way.

[rugessnome]

I had a finished poll about least favorite doctor come across from one of my tracked tags but it's no longer rebloggable (which... I kinda get. fair) so I couldn't put MY little tag commentary on it...

[unladielike]

    Vivian nods away in agreement for to her, having a considerable amount of burgers without any soda didn't seem like something that's really heard of... and yeah, perhaps there were way better palate cleansers to be had than carbonated drinks, but as this was a food truck and not a restaurant, the selection of beverages they could realistically order would understandably be a bit limited.

    "Welp, I wouldn't go as far as to say I necessarily understand 'everything', per say, but yeah, once you manage to live through twenty one years on this planet, you start discovering some pretty basic stuff... like, for instance, how the human body gets thirsty if you consume salty snacks yet do not occasionally bring yourself to drink water throughout regular intervals," Vivian states. Granted, most would consider that to be 'common sense', but as per usual, she frames it more like an academic study than redundant knowledge nobody would truly bother disputing.

    Either way, it doesn't take long for her bespectacled gaze to soon settle on the drinks menu, which was situated to the right side corner of the food truck... and to her delight, Coke was listed as one of the drinks that were available to order, causing her to clasp both hands together.

    "Ooh, what do you know?! They do indeed have Coke! No Fanta to be seen, though... then again, at least we aren't forced to choose Pepsi, which is the mid alternative to Coke," Vivian pipes up. Of course, after the final customer leaves, she'll then finally pull out her wallet before turning to Mizumachi. "Alright, so to summarize super quickly... we want ten teriyaki cheese burgers with two cokes?" Vivian repeats in order to ensure they were on the same page.

[水]

“Bia is so smart! I love it!”

Who knew there was such a place so close by? He hadn’t found the place yet, and who knew how long it would’ve taken before he found it. The food truck  now had a new fan who was bound to visit pretty often any time homesickness struck him- which was surprisingly often if he was left alone with his thoughts.

The jock laughs at the comment that the food truck wasn’t going anywhere. It wouldn’t sprout legs and run away—but it had wheels, didn’t it? Couldn’t it drive off?

“Yeah! A Teriyaki cheese burger sounds great!”

Sometimes, he’d go into restaurants and find that the food was very different compared to his expectations, but if going by the smell alone, he was sure that he was going to like the burgers here. He normally wasn’t that picky when it came to food anyways, but still! It was a kind of betrayal for someone who craved familiar tastes to walk into a restaurant and walk out of it confused over what he’d actually eaten. He learned the hard way that many ‘fusion’ places weren’t… the best. Guess not every fusion was stellar and epic. Sorry Goku and Vegeta.

“You really understand everything, huh? You’re right! If you’re going to be eating a lot of burgers anyways, ya gotta drink something that pairs well with it. Coke is the best! Fanta is also good, though.”

If you were going to be eating your fill of burgers, was there really any real difference if you chose to drink soda over water? The difference was minor at that point, so there was no point in picking straws. Water was his preferred drink for regular hours, but if he was doing rigorous exercise, then he would reach for sports drinks to replenish his electrolytes. Soda was for whenever he was treating himself to some junk food. Might as well go big or go home (and eat healthier).

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"I bet on losing dogs"

ok this is like my first time actually writing anything EVER, and I don't know how to work tumblr or make this aesthetic so bare with me pls!! I keep seeing yandere batfam x neglected reader and I have had so many ideas so I'm giving this a shot! The reader is referred to with female pronouns but you can imagine it different if you want :) Reader is 2 years older than Damian and is 15 at the start of the story. Damian is 13. Dick is around 10 years older than reader, making him 25 right now. Jason is 8 years older than reader, making him 23. Tim is 2 years older than reader making him 17. Cass is 4 years older than reader and is 19. Stephanie is 3 years older than reader and is 18. Barbra is around 8 years older, making her 23! Bruce is around 35-40ish??? All just kinda guesses to make the plot and dynamics more clear, lmk if you have any questions!!

This is the prolouge and it kinda sucks so pls be nice. Hearts and comments are appreciated. If it's bad ignore it, english isn't my first language. Chapter one:, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4:

You couldn't understand it. You aren't a bad kid, so why were you treated like one? Why did your father treat you like the bane of his existence? Why did your older brothers see you as nothing more than dirt at the bottom of their shoes, a ghost in the manor, a blemish on their picture perfect family of misfits. You tried so so hard to fit in, to be part of the family. You wasted 11 YEARS of your life trying to get noticed, doing activities and hobbies you hated in the hopes of striking conversation with your "siblings". Batman, Bruce Wayne, your "father", ignored you no matter what. He ignored you like it was his job, from the day you came to the manor on your fourth birthday, your mother's death day, to today, your 15th birthday. You saved his life, his and all those other ungrateful losers who you used to call family. Yesterday, you put you life on the line for them, got bitten by that damn snake for them, and they ignored you and told you to walk it off while coddling the girl who suddenly appeared. Never again would you help them, nor would you brush off their mistreatment, not after this betrayal. Not after they took in another girl, a girl your age, the girl who took credit for your heroic act, the girl who bullied you for years at Gotham Prep, the girl who made your life living hell, and called HER family. They choose Tiffany Maverick to be their supposed savior, they would never believe you had the bravery to help them. They chose her to be Tiffany Wayne and scorned you.

You did nothing wrong, from the day you came to the manor you were perfect. Straight A's, no attitude, no complaints and no demands. All you did was try, try, try, and they never noticed.

Richard "The Dick" Grayson, as you and your friends call him, was the world's best big brother to everyone, except you of course! He was your first brother, he was the kid that Bruce Wayne actually wanted to take under his wing. You were 5 and he was 15, he was busy being Robin and then Nightwing. Alfred assured you that Dick adored you, you were his baby sister after all, he was just busy! In later years you realized he was only busy when it came to you. He made time for Damian no matter what, always attended Cassandra's ballet recitals, chatted with Tim and ruffled his hair, and he even dealt with Jason's snarky attitude and biting remarks. Yet, somehow when it came to you, he never had time. Always brushing you off with a shoulder pat and a "Maybe next time sweetheart!" and rolling his eyes when he thought you weren't looking. He's been making time for Tiffany or Tiffybear, as he loves to call her while pinching her cheeks and calling her his favorite little sister, "Don't tell Cass though!" he'll whisper to her. You don't even think he can remember your name. Or that once upon a time you were his "baby bird."

It makes you sick watching her take credit for everything, she's only been in the manor for 6 months and they've all given her more love than they have to you in the past 11 years. She took credit for all your awards, she told everyone she was top of your class, made them "homemade" cakes and muffins. It was all you. She stole everything.

Jason Todd, the red hood, was so mean to you. You used to admire him, looked up to him, and he took all your kind words and gestures for granted and spit them back in your face. Once upon a time, he was your favorite brother, you wanted to be as confident and unshakeable as him, it didn't matter how mean he was now because he was you brother and you loved him. The bond you had before his death was something you couldn't let go of, he was the only one who loved you. When he first came to the manor he was 12 and you came a couple months later. An adorable 4 year old who followed her favorite brother like a duckling. You were 7 when he died. You were 12 when he came back to haunt Bruce and Dick and Tim. You chased after him and tried to resurrect the bond you had for 3 long years. You gave up when you saw them. You couldn't believe your eyes when you saw him and Tiffany sneaking out the manor on a school night, you almost threw up when you saw him strap her on his motorcycle and leave for hours. They came back with shit-eating grins and cupcakes for everyone from a 24hr bakery, everyone except you. The bakery you asked him to take you to months ago. Tiffany saw the tears in your eyes and your clenched fists and she laughed.

Timothy Drake-Wayne, you first saw him after Jason died. Tim, in your 10 year old mind, was trying to steal your dad. Bruce ignored you even more after Jason's death and shut everyone out. Your bond with Tim was non-existent no matter how hard you tried. After you realized he wasn't trying to replace Jason, and saw how he was helping your father heal in ways you couldn't, you tried to bond with him. You attempted to play his video games and ignored his complete disintrest in you and anything that had to do with you in hopes he might come to appreciate you. You brought him coffee after long patrols, asked him about his day, asked to meet his friends, you picked up all his hobbies like hacking, cooking, reading even martial arts and yet he ignored you. You tried to find him in hallways at school, only to be treated like a stranger when you found him. He was embarrassed that you were his sister. You were chubby and awkward and didn't have many friends, he didn't want his cool kid friends to know you were his sister. For 5 long years you chased after him, for 5 years you chased a ghost, and somehow Tiffany captured his attention using one of the gadget-thingys you made in hopes to impress him. She walks the hallways of Gotham Prep with him, a perfect sibling duo, he even had her lunch moved so she could sit with him and his friends. He wasn't embarrassed of her. You watched them get closer in 6 months than you have in 5 years. And it hurt.

But perhaps what hurt most is her newfound bond with Damian. Your baby brother. You tried the hardest with Damian, almost as hard as you tried with Bruce, and yet he chose her while all you got was a sword to your neck and sneers of disgust thrown your way. Damian moved in when you were 12. You were elated, if you couldn't have good older siblings, at least you could be one! That plan went to hell when you realized Damian saw you as less than him. No matter how hard you tried, returned your love with disgust. You tried to show him around school like you wished Tim did for you and he called you " A waste of space and Wayne DNA" and said that there was no way you were of "Wayne" blood and that your "whore of a mother" had to have deceived his father, in front of your two friends and half the school. You could've handled his cruel words if he didn't begin attempting to duel you to become your father's heir. About a year ago, when you tried to hug him he threw you down the stairs and you broke your ankle, you stopped trying with him after that. He was so possessive over Bruce and now that somehow transferred to Tiffany too. You'd feel bad for her if she wasn't eating his obsession with her up.

Barbra, Cassandra, and Stephanie were the "It girls." All practically sisters, they hung out almost everyday and had sleepovers every Friday. They giggled about boys, hook-ups, missions and bonded over everything. You wanted be one of them, you tried so hard to be cool, to be pretty, and they could only see your flaws. You curled your hair and did your nails in hope you would blend with them, you even attempted to be Batgirl at one point. You were quickly denied after Stephanie pointed out that you didn't have the right 'physique' for it. Barbra quickly agreed and said you weren't cut out for it, Cassandra simply looked you up and down. Thats why it hurt extra when they welcomed Tiffany with open arms. Suddenly, she could be Batgirl. She talked to them about boys and bonded with them over girl things. She stole your sisters.

You figured out Tiffany was a spy almost as soon as she came into the manor. Her apperance and ability to act like it was her who saved the Bats from the Joker and his new radioactive snake was not a coincidence, neither was her becoming a vigilante only two weeks after coming into the manor, and neither was you catching her walking out the Batcave with arms full of Batman's weapons and plans. You couldn't believe your luck and pulled out your phone to take a picture, too bad you left the flash on. Tiffany quickly noticed you and tried to explain that it was a misunderstanding when Bruce came into the hallway. You beamed at the sight of him and began to explain what you saw Tiffany doing, only Tiffany was faster. She was quick to blame you for everything, and Batman, the world's greatest detective believed her. She said that you bullied her at school and you were so jealous of her joining the family that you went to steal plans and took pictures to frame her. It was a shitty lie and somehow everyone believed it. You still remember the cold indifference on Bruce's face, the sadness on Alfred's, the look of pure delight on Damian's, the shock on Dick's, the interest on Tim's and the disappointment and disgust on Jason's. Something shifted in you that night. You didn't feel an overwhelming amount of love and longing when you looked at your family, you felt anger. Pure unadultered rage, rage at Bruce for never loving you, rage at Dick for being a liar, rage at Jason for throwing away your bond and cool indifference and disgust at the rest of them.

Maybe that's why your abilities finally formed. Maybe thats why the place the snake bit you that fateful night began to glow as you cried in your bathtub, after being scolded all night and getting body slammed by Damian for trying to "taint his dear sister's image". You had powers now, the agility of a snake, you could eject venom out of your fingertips, you could walk on walls, now you could prove them all wrong.

okayyyy yall this was the prolouge. Again this is my 1st attempt at writing so be nice. If enough people like this I'll put out part one. Hope yall enjoyed and lmk what you want to happen next in the comments!!!!!!!!!

[moviestarmartini]

alta suciedad. — franco colapinto x f!reader

summary: while interviewing franco, you misunderstood what he meant with 'talented with his tongue'. lucky for you, he's more than willing to actually show you his skills.

wc: 2.9k

warnings: interviewer!reader, hispanic!reader, porn with an ounce of plot, set during media day of the austin gp, casual sex, oral sex (fem recieving), p in v, unprotected sex, pull out and pray, mean dom!franco, dumbification, degradation, a teeny amount of praise, aftercare, spanglish/sentences in spanish.

A/N: based on this request and took some inspo from this other anon, i'm literally giggling typing this in order to publish it. no specific song for today even though there's a few references even in the title. hope y'all are hungry!!

“I’m talented with my tongue.” 

You didn’t have that much experience when it came to interviewing professionally— you’d been a kid reporter at the same sport you strived to get there, and in the course of getting there, you’ve seen a thousand and one million things that impressed you. 

But this? 

Your mouth hung open, giving him a few rapid blinks while your brain processed the information. 

“You wanna see?” Franco Colapinto insisted, not reading your expression well enough, or ignoring it at the very least. 

“¿Aquí?” You blinked, unable to process the event in the main language of the paddock. You were one of the youngest reporters there, but that didn’t mean you were inexperienced. That had just completely caught you off guard. 

Franco cocked a brow before showing you and the camera how he could manipulate said organ so the sides touched and a tiny hole formed in the middle. 

Yet again he surprised you, or more you surprised yourself with how further down the gutter your mind was at. 

“Oh, good!” You snapped out of it, but he had seemingly finally connected the dots, or so the smirk in his face made it seem like it. 

“Well, thank you for having us, Franco. Good luck during the weekend.” Your  composure was back not even two seconds later, the cameraman soon signaled the transmission was off. A relieved sigh left your lips while your shoulders relaxed, giving your coworker the mic and transmitter to take to the media tent just a few steps away. 

You were just turning back to head there as well, ready to get immersed in writing a report before your name was called. Your heels turned you around by force of habit, not realizing the tone in the driver’s voice might mean trouble. 

“Yes?” You asked politely, hands clasped in front of you to avoid any chance of fidgeting. Your little crush was idiotic, or so you considered it from the day you first interviewed him. 

“¿Qué vas a hacer hoy?” He took a step closer in order to ask the question, hands stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans. 

“¿Perdón?” You realized that sounded rude, your voice repeating a better answer soon after. “Seguir trabajando, why?” A frown settled between your brows, head leaning slightly to the right. Where was this going exactly? The confusion only settled further when you noticed his eyes darting around before leaning in. 

“Si querés que de verdad te enseñe que puedo hacer con mi lengua, entra al motorhome después de las siete, te dejo la puerta de atrás abierta. Mi cuarto está a la izquierda.” And with that, he pulled away, turned around and left. 

You did the same, convinced the idea was just a figment of your imagination, the drought you’ve been suffering for more than a year to get there tricking every nerve in your brain to believe those words. It was settling into the late afternoon, and you worked at a pace Sonic would envy. His words bounced around your gray matter, and after much debating you stayed after the six pm mark, when everyone else left. You peered your head out of your station noticing how the place was almost empty. It was Thursday after all, the whole crews were not active until the following day. 

The curiosity got the best of you, and you packed your bag to head there, skittish at the sight of anyone who crossed your way— or at least the few that did. 

No one was used to walking behind the team buildings, never mind during what’s considered after hours. Your breath got stuck in your throat when you noticed the door ajar, and no one came in nor out to justify the fact. 

“Thought you wouldn’t come.” Franco’s voice snapped you out of the hesitation, arms crossed over his chest. 

“I thought I was supposed to come in by myself.” You got the bravery to counter with the way your heart sped up with adrenaline coursing through your veins. 

“You’re late.” Franco’s response was quick, witty. His tone made you raise your brow; it was… different. Commanding, you could pinpoint. 

“I shouldn’t come out and get you, vení.” Before you could even process it, he took your arm and dragged you inside, going straight down the hallway and taking a left before the door closed shut— no witnesses visible to what he had just done. 

“You can sit wherever you like.” He invited, his voice was back to its playful tone. You nodded, putting your bag down by the door and sitting on the small couch near a corner. 

“Sos muy bonita, ¿sabías?” He complimented while finishing to fix up his room, side eyeing you. 

“Why am I here? What do you want?” You asked bluntly, not accepting the compliment. 

“Look, if you wanted me to write positively about you on the piece, you already got it.” You carefully watched him take a seat next to you, and you both turned to face each other.

“Tonta también, ¿no?” It was as if you were ignoring each other’s words, and before you could get offended, his fingertips brushed your hair out of the way of your face. Any smart quip you could’ve thrown at him flew out the window, your lips parting. 

“That’s just how you looked at me earlier. When you thought I was referring to something dirty. Tontita.” He inched closer. You couldn’t help but do the same, a bit eagerly, eliciting a laugh out of his lips. 

“Do you like me?” It was his turn to be blunt. Without hesitation you nodded, squeezing your lips into a thin line after realizing that might’ve been a mistake. An embarrassing one at that. 

“No pasa nada. Vos también me gustás preciosa…” His voice trailed with his head leaning closer, lips brushing against the prickled skin of your neck. “…inteligente…” A kiss pressed to the area. “…y al parecer, puta.” 

The gasp disappeared between the blurred lines of your lips and his crashing, the term disappearing in your mind while you kissed him. Your hands gripped the material of his team shirt while his own lowered down your back, pulling you closer, almost on top of his lap. 

“¿Hacés esto mucho? Sneak into other drivers’ rooms?” He asked while leaning back down to kiss your neck with a twinge of more harshness, ragged breath leaving your lips while you shook your head ‘no’ 

“¿Sos muda? Habla.” There was that commanding tone again, his fingers delving into the skin of your thighs to squeeze what he wanted out of you. 

“No. Nunca.” You replied with a gulp, leaning your head back to recieve more kisses as a reward for your answer. 

“So I’m the lucky winner?” It sounded something between a compliment and a joke, and you decided to humor him a little with a smile. 

“One could say so.” You replied, thinking you’ve gotten the gist of it. 

“I’m surprised. With that skirt…” He shook his head after tutting, making you figure out the context of his words. You were into it enough to not get offended by the allegation, normally would have defended yourself with the fact it was terribly hot outside. You didn’t like dressing similar to the rest of the reporters in the paddock, and maybe this once it played both in your favor and against it… sort of. 

His lips captured yours again, his tongue swiping your bottom lip. You weren’t dumb— even if he liked to say so— parting your lips without complaint, feeling the way your tongues tangled together while he pushed you down until your back hit the fabric of the furniture. 

The open mouth kisses started redirecting their path down your jaw, following a trail down the length of your neck. He took the opportunity to breathe your scent. 

“Olés tan rico,” He groaned, the growing erection in his jeans pressing against your upper thigh. 

“I can already imagine how that pretty pussy tastes. Can’t wait to make you cum just using my tongue.”  The idea made you shudder, his hands raising your top to move it out of the way while he kept kissing back. You took the initiative to just pull it over your head and throw it somewhere else. 

“You’re so good, stripping for me without having to ask.” Franco cooed, his pace slowing down when his mouth reached down your belly button, making him look at him expectantly. 

What you didn’t expect was for him to just tug on your denim skirt up to completely move it out of the way without removing the piece, his knuckles brushing the spot marked with your aroused slickness, your hips involuntarily twitching to lean closer into his touch. 

“Si solo te he besado y ya estás re mojadita,” Another coo left his mouth, this one with a certain amount of jest in it. You felt deeply embarrassed in a way your face displayed it, only making his smile grow in size. 

Franco almost ripped off the underwear and chucked it somewhere in the room. No moment to adapt was left at your disposition, his tongue pressing flat against your wet core. The noise of a moan coming from you clashed with the hum of satisfaction he felt from the sheer taste of you. 

“So sweet,” Franco praised, and those were the last words to come out of his mouth before he started to back up his words from earlier. 

The whole situation felt like a dream. Not only the fact he made an advance upon noticing how far down the gutter your mind was, but the fact you even came there in the first place. Not that you regretted it, with how he flicked that sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue.  

You didn’t believe his promise earlier— thinking it was just silly dirty talking— but he was proving you wrong. Your moans were the perfect evidence, fingers tangling in his curls while his left hand rose up to grope your exposed breast. 

The shuffling noise outside the room made him perk up and away from your dripping cunt, chin glistening with your wetness. He pulled his index fingers to his lips to signal you to be quiet before continuing, but his attempt fell futile. You were reaching your release quick, his magic working a little too well. There was no warning; his other hand left the grip on your thigh to cover your mouth, holding it down a bit too roughly to send a message. 

Your muffled moans and cries only set him off, teasing your entrance before licking the trail up to your clitoris, suckling on it. He fluttered his eyes open, and the sight was nothing but completely arousing. Your eyes were rolled back, column arching up while his expert affections tipped you over the edge. Your thighs simultaneously shivered and lightly squeezed his head, and it was enough for Franco to decide he was in heaven. 

Once the overwhelming sensation started to wear off, your legs relaxed, allowing him to pull away. With a clearer mind you noticed how his chin and lips glistened before removing the substance with the back of his hand, as if it was just sauce from an actual meal. 

“¿Por qué me mirás así?” Franco wondered at your blissful expression. “¿Ya te enamoraste, putita?” There was no verbal answer; he was eager to link his lips with yours again in yet another sloppy makeout session. This once, however, you couldn’t pretend you didn’t feel his erection pressing against your inner thigh. 

Taking initiative, your hand lowered down his torso to fumble the button of his pants a little before being able to undo it. A groan followed by teeth tugging at your bottom lip was the reaction you gained from jerking him off slowly under his underwear. That gave you enough confidence to swipe your thumb across the leaking tip in order to tease him. 

The sound of a moan from him echoed inside your mouth, a hum from satisfaction leaving consequently. However, your moment of dominance soon faded with his hand slapping yours away before spreading your legs even further— to the point it pulled on the muscles of your inner thigh just a little, the burning sensation mushing with pleasure— the skirt hiking up to rest on your torso. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He leaned in to whisper, feeling him nudge your entrance in order to tease you. The sensation that followed was something similar to your brain shutting down, managing to only nod. The smell of his cologne, his body pressing down on you. 

Franco, Franco, Franco, Fran— 

“¿Qué pasa tontita? Say it.” He egged you on, threatening to push himself inside, but not making it far enough to bring you satisfaction. 

“Yes, por favor.” You begged, getting a chaste kiss for a reward followed by the intrusion spreading your warm walls. You saw the way Franco tried to keep it together, the façade crumbling under a groan. You felt too good. His mind could only pinpoint your body under his, the warmth hugging his stiff dick and electrifying every nerve of his being. 

His mind couldn’t stop chanting your name. 

“Move,” You asked nicely, though it came out in a huff. He found himself too enthralled to complain at your tone, instead complying. 

The lower tone of his moans harmonized with the high pitched of yours, the sound of skin frantically coming in contact filling up the room enough for both of you two to forget what could possibly be going on outside. At least it had been a while since you last heard people outside doing whatever. 

“Dios, que apretadita estás,” Franco groaned out loud, his lips brushing against yours. You took the leap, closing the distance between the two of you. But you couldn’t get much out of it due to your own fault, moans interrupting the session. 

“No, besáme.” You whined when he pulled away slightly, and a smirk rose at his lips before he locked them with yours, pace increasing. You struggled to engage further, the moans and groans interrupting. 

“No, besáme.” Franco replicated your plea from earlier before laughing between heavy breaths. 

You couldn’t do anything but pucker your bottom lip out, not finding the words to complain about how mean he was being. Besides, all coherent thoughts disappeared the moment you felt your second orgasm peeking from behind you at a rapid rate. Your nails dug into the uncovered skin of his forearms, just below where the team shirt started covering his biceps. 

“¿Por qué me apretás tanto?” He hissed before falling upon the realization, deciding to keep having his fun with you and slowing down. 

“Fuck— ¡¿qué te pasa?!” You groaned, feeling the release reeling down into a sensation of being completely stuck midway. 

“Dale, decime lo que quieres. De forma bonita, como vos.” He kept his thrusts slow and deep, trying to contain his own release from the pulsating walls squeezing the life out of his cock. 

“I wanna cum,” You felt the embarrassment of having to request that out loud settle in your stomach, soon washed over by the sensation the quickening of his hips gave your core. 

“Si, si. Franco, that’s it,” You cried out, hiding your face in the crook of his neck while your thighs shivered once more. 

Your cunt was so warm and tight he almost didn’t pull out. Almost. After a groan left the back of his throat, droplets of white painted your lower abdomen, thankfully not staining your skirt. 

He kept himself supported by his forearms, allowing him to lean in and kiss your forehead and cheeks. 

There wasn’t much to be said, you knew that, and so did he. Carefully, he fixed his underwear and pants before getting up, muttering something under his breath in his attempt to find the wet wipes he knew he had… somewhere in the organized clutter of his room. 

“Dejá que te limpio,” His voice was tender, the wet tissue dragging across your skin to remove the seminal liquid, before another carefully cleaned the sweat off your forehead and neck. 

You thanked him with a nod, unable to hold eye contact for long. Once you felt comfortable you sat up, fixing your clothes and hair before getting up on your legs, still a bit wobbly. You took it upon yourself to clean the damp spot on the couch where you laid, still embarrassed by the whole ordeal. 

Quickly, you slipped your underwear on, unaware of the pair of eyes following your every move with a cold calculation. 

“¿Qué vas a hacer hoy?” The question he asked to what seemed to be ages ago popped up again, making you turn, just as confused as you were earlier. 

“Dormir�� cenar. Ya veremos, dijo el ciego.” At your cheeky response his laughter echoed through the room, arms folded over his torso. 

“¿Habrá un espacio para mí en esa cena o nos vemos mañana a la misma hora?” He took a step closer. Then another. And another. Until he stood in front of you, leaning down enough to whisper in your ear. 

“No importa si no me querés ver hoy en la noche todo caballeroso, mañana procura llegar a tiempo y controlar esa boquita.” Yet again, his voice electrified goosebumps all over your skin. 

What did you just get yourself into?