#so hopefully I'll get to organizing those

[grandlinedreams]

|| this man is an exposed live wire in my brain ok

|| notes: uhh prequel to [this] and [this], semi Canon compliant, pre-s1 but mentions of pre-war Cooper, I love the dynamic 😔👌✨️

|| warnings: hopefully IC Cooper, asshole x asshole dynamic we love to see it, weapons/supply dealer!reader, Canon typical violence, mention of blood/reader is injured kinda, spoilers? Abt Cooper's backstory, kinda enemies to friends/lovers

He doesn't know why he's here.

No, that's a lie ㅡ he does know why he's here, he just doesn't want to admit it. To himself, or to anyone else, for that matter. That he needs help.

Those fancy little bullets for his gun are hard to come by, few and far between when he can't get them by looting and places like Ma June's enjoy extorting as much as they can for so very little.

There's a difference between business transactions and highway robbery, even now. Which is why he's here ㅡ he'd gotten talk about a place that sold weapons and weapon-related supplies at a fair rate, and necessity had made him swallow his pride to go and find out for himself.

Which is why he's not just turning around and fuckin' leaving.

The building is crammed between two others, as ramshackle as the rest being made of recycled tin and wood that's rotted by time and rain in places, but still suggests a stability that won't crumble if somebody breathes too hard on it.

Cooper's spurs jingle as he walks, lost momentarily to the chime of something over his head when he pushes the door open. He looks up, forehead creasing.

Is that a bell?

Rusted but still in working order, it clatters again when he shuts the door, looking around. It's about as put together as any other kind of shop, an eclectic organization to it ㅡ a couple of rifles, a pistol or two, along with an admittedly impressive assortment of knives ㅡ but it's the shine of something on the floor that makes Cooper stop.

His head cocks as he studies the stain, the still-slick shimmer to it that makes him crouch and drag two gloved fingers against it, studying the residue. Coppery, with a hefty dose of some kind of chem to clean it, but still unmistakable ㅡ blood.

Well damn. He doesn't know what's happened here and he's pretty sure he doesn't care to, much beyond the fact that if the runner of this place is dead, that puts a damper on things. Or maybe not ㅡ if nobody's here, what's to stop him from taking what he wants?

"If you're thinkin' of stealing," comes a call that snaps his head up as it echoes from further back in the building, "I'd advise you not to. Less you wanna meet your maker, then I'd be happy to assist."

It's a flat bravado that both amuses him and piques his interest, and he leans against the counter to rap his knuckles. "Not stealin'," he drawls, "just wonderin' what kind of business model you've got if you make customers wait."

"The kind where patience is still a virtue, that's what." Foosteps, unhurried ㅡ and then Cooper is staring at you as you round the corner. You've got a jumpsuit of some indistinguishable color opened to rest around your hips, dingy tank-top underneath ㅡ and a stimpak in your hand. No doubt for the mess of your other arm, bicep wrapped with gauze that's already seeped into a bloom of bright red.

Well now. Cooper wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but you still manage to surprise him. Enough that he's staring, which makes you scowl.

"I know that look," you challenge, "if you think I'm easy picking, you'll get a new place to breathe from, courtesy of the hole I'll put in your head."

Cooper's head cocks. "Well now sugar," he says, "that's not very nice now, is it? Wasn't even thinkin' of that." He turns, jerks a thumb at the half-assed cleaning of the mess on the floor. "That's your doin', I reckon."

You nod. "Don't get trouble much," you say, "but when I do, I make sure to prove a point." You jam the stimpak into your arm, and he watches the tension melt from your shoulders. "Now, what can I do for you besides point out the exit?"

Well damn, Cooper thinks again. You've got a pretty face, but it's at odds with the attitude coming from that nice little mouth of yours. About as welcoming as a rattlesnake and probably just as quick to anger, from the way you bristle as he eyes you.

"Need supplies," he says, and you snort.

"What a wellspring of information you are. What kind of supplies?" You eye him, brow furrowing. "You're a bounty hunter, aren't you? Get your kind in here all the time." You tap a worn boot against the floor, hands now on your hips. "Hope you got means to pay for shit, because I don't do tab and I sure as fuck don't do charity work."

Cooper isn't sure if he likes you or he hates you. Bit of both, he guesses. The like is tentative and the hate is more solid ground, because he hates just about everybody. Makes it easier to do what needs to be done.

"Well, sweetheart," he leans into the counter, tips his hat, "depends on what you got to show me that's worth buyin'."

You stare, unimpressed by whatever angle he's going for. He's handsome, you'll give him that ㅡ but not much else. He also reminds you of somebody, with that hat of his and the way he talks ㅡ the low, drawn out drawl that you've only seen in those movies you manage to scrounge up here and there for your amusement.

Rolling your eyes, you hold up a finger and shrug your arms back into the jumpsuit, though you don't bother to zip it up. "Gimme a sec."

You don't know why you're doing this. Entertaining the notion that if you show him good enough product, he'll become a regular. You like regulars, but most of what you get seem to run on about six months worth of visits and then vanish.

Probably dead. Such is the way of the world, and it's still enough to get by. But you like new faces.

To his credit, he doesn't flinch when you slap the first pack onto the counter, followed by a second, and then a third.

"This is baseline stuff," you explain. "Your usual grade of bullet. Black powder, the standard kick." You shove the first pack at him, let him inspect the bullets. "Then you've got these."

The second pack shoved over, thin fabric parted so he can eye the neat little row of what would be hollow-point bullets if they didn't end with a tiny, pointed bulb of red glass.

"Explosive rounds." Your expression is unreadable. "They do the job, but they need special packing. Unless you wanna be blown up before the damn things even get loaded into the gun."

Cooper hums, eyes the bullet he holds up, the barely there shift of powder in the glass. He watches as you push the third over. "And these?"

"Same, but they pack even more of a punch. I'd recommend only shooting them at shit you want up in smoke." You shrug. "Or people, deathclaws, whatever the fuck you do out there."

Cooper studies you. "Where did you get this stuff? Thought bullets were hard to come by."

You give him a flat look of annoyance. "I make 'em myself."

Cooper stares, then smirks. Another little tip to his head. "Really now," he says, watches you bristle like a viper, ready to strike. Wonders if those fangs of yours pack a punch, what he'd need to do to get you to spit at him. "How 'bout you show me, darlin'? Wanna make sure what I buy is good quality."

You should tell him to shove it. Tell him to get the absolute fuck out of your shop, take his fuckin' yeehaw personality to someone else in the mood to deal with it ㅡ but you don't.

Instead, you sigh and tug the packages back, moving away from the counter. "Well c'mon then," you prompt, irritated. "Don't have all goddamn day."

The back of your shop is half a home and half a workshop, sprawled mess of equipment rusted with time but otherwise well maintained, smell of grease and hot metal and gunpowder that clings to everything.

You don't have to look back to know he's followed you, the jingle of his spurs as he takes his time, eyes missing nothing. The boxes of empty casings and empty glass bulbs ㅡ and the Mister Handy that's slumped in the corner, sparks spitting from it.

"Poor thing got shot first with that...situation earlier." Your voice is quiet. "Gotta fix 'im if I can."

Kind of funny, you sound sadder about the damn machine than the fact you'd killed someone over it. Then again, they'd been trying to kill you, so...eh. Justified, in your book.

The rest of the room is a haphazard attempt at something like a house ㅡ a couch with blankets on it, a short stack of books gone yellow at the edges, a coffee table ㅡ and sitting on it is a shitty little television, staticy and without color ㅡ but that doesn't matter. What matters to Cooper is that he knows what it's playing.

Your flitting around fades a little as he watches himself on screen ㅡ forever ago, a lifetime ago. Before the bombs, before vault-tec ㅡ when he'd been happy.

He'd loved his life, his family ㅡ and they'd loved him too.

"I've got enough stuff to make another round of flash-baㅡ" You stop, blinking at the way he's staring at the television. "Somethin' wrong? I know this isn't much, but it's my way of living, soㅡ"

"Stop your yappin'," Cooper rasps, and you glare as he shakes himself out of whatever reverie he was lost in. You scowl.

"Look, I know this doesn't seem like much of anything, but this is my business, and my shop." Your eyes narrow. "So try to be a little fuckin' nicer if you want me to sell you anything."

Whatever patience he'd had left promptly snaps like a bowstring as he snatches your arm, grips it tighter than he should. "Listen, sweetheart," he hisses, "what exactly is stopping me from just takin' what I want and leaving?"

Something whirrs behind him, distracts him just enough for the cool, sharp kiss of metal at his throat.

"Do it," you taunt, expression unreadable, grip tight on the blade you hold to his neck. "You're not the first one to try, and you won't be the last."

And there, Cooper notes, are your fangs, ready to sink into his skin. The two of you stare at each other for a good, long minute while the Mister Handy spits and sputters. And then Cooper huffs something like a laugh. "Glad to see you've got some bite to you, darlin', but I still think I could handle you."

A threat and something a little less hostile all in one, even as you yank your arm out of his grasp. "You couldn't handle me even if I came with a fuckin' manual," you snap back, but there's a playful gleam to your eyes. "You gonna buy anything or just lookin' to be a pain in my ass?"

A crooked grin tugs at Cooper's mouth. "Both."

ㅡ

The truce between the two of you is tentative. An understanding in the barest sense, because neither of you are dumb enough to pass up a lucrative, beneficial deal. He gets his supplies, you get caps. Simple.

You won't go as far as to say you're even friends, up until the point that you greet him on a visit with, "You know, you remind me of somebody."

He eyes you. "Really now. And who would that be, sweetheart? You workin' with more ghouls than just me?"

You snort. "Careful," you tease, "you almost sound jealous." Your tone quiets as you drum your fingers on the counter. "Nah, you remind me of that one actor, Cooper Howard."

Cooper stills. Watches you warily, turning a spent bullet casing over and over between gloved fingers.

"He played a cowboy," you say, nodding to yourself. "Talked like you do, too. Good movies, at least the ones I've gotten my hands on." You eye him, playful light to your eyes. "Wouldn't happen to be a fan of him too, would you?"

Cooper debates. He's not sure if you've put the pieces together and if you have, you're polite enough not to say it. He appreciates that, makes that fleeting temptation of putting a bullet in your head all the more temporary. He likes you. Be a shame if he had to cut ties.

"No," he answers. "I can safely say he and I are nothin' alike." Not anymore. He lets himself lean over the counter, too close to your face. Intimidation, maybe, or perhaps just because he likes being able to look at you like this. "Got anythin' else to tell me?"

Your eyes flick over his face, down to his lips as you lean a little closer, the suggestion of your mouth just shy of his. "Yeah," you murmur, quiet. "Next time you come by, work on your fuckin' manners."

#ㅡmine. #fallout x reader #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #now to get the norm thing done for Lexis!!

[desolateice]

Cut and Rewritten: This was supposed to be around Chapter 42, after they get back from New York City and before the prom. But I wanted the magazine’s to go with Daniel and that wouldn’t have happened if this interaction had happened earlier. So I got part of the way and then changed my mind and cut it and then rewrote it.

Dutch wanted to take over prom. The idea was weird. The meaning of that six months ago, a couple years ago would have been vastly different than what it meant now. Then it would've been Dutch with joints and booze to sneak in. It would’ve meant introducing Johnny to girls he'd met at the punk bar or at the beach or somewhere where he'd somehow managed to charm them.

As Johnny's life fell into a routine prom kept popping up. Being on student council meant Tommy was still busy. Busy planning prom now that the senior trip was over and then when that was over it was graduation. Johnny didn't know whether he pitied Tommy or was jealous. But he still hosted study night a couple times as they neared the end of the school year. He wasn't the only one busy. Jimmy had gotten to go to visit his campus early. Had met his teachers. Had talked to some fancy lawyers and that long trek ahead, like Ali, that he had and he seemed busy, distracted with a future far off in the distance. Like he already had a job, was already loaded down with cases. Which didn't make any sense to Johnny because what college puts the high school seniors to work early? 

So that left Bobby and Dutch in charge of their prom plans and festivities. And Bobby just held up his hands and told Johnny that because he couldn't take all of the girls he decided he wouldn't take any, and would just go visit them on campus at a different date. He made it seem like this big deal. But Johnny could tell he was delighted to have been invited to campus. 

Dutch seemed so absolutely pleased with his secret plans. He just told Johnny to "Dress pretty". 

Johnny focused on everything else. It was better not to try and think about Dutch and his plans and whatever they might be. It was better to focus on doing kata and helping Mr. Miyagi. Focus on helping the kids with their homework. Going to the animal sanctuary and taking too many dogs on walks around the farm. Throwing balls and freebees and running this way and that with them because they needed the exercise and someone to play with. He focuses on finishing Pride and Prejudice with Daniel. The way Daniel liked to lay down with his legs in his lap, as they sat in the grass together. Usually at Mr. Miyagi's, sometimes at a park.

It's a weird reversal.

Daniel quiet and listening to Johnny. Watching him with those big brown eyes. He was kind of relieved when they finish the chapter and moved on to other homework. All that focus on him was overwhelming. He always got nervous. Heart pounding in his ears. But he was trying to enjoy the moments before they slipped past.

He tried to enjoy dinner with Mrs. LaRusso and the way Daniel would drag him to his room, the way friends do to talk about everything and nothing, to go over homework and math problems. 

Until one evening that he was sitting at Daniel's desk, Daniel's radio on and he looked for a pencil because his broke over the last problem. Daniel was lounging on his bed, giving him time and space to work through the problems before looking them over and he opened the drawer to see a familiar magazine. Johnny pulled it out. It was undeniably the one. The right issue. Tommy's aunt always showed him the cover. He never wanted a copy. Never thought he could bring himself to look or take it home. Because Sid would say something. Would get weird about it. Sid had this thing about how models really should only be women and that male models all were...well liked guys.

Accurate for him he supposed, but he didn't want to deal with the outbursts.

He flicked it open, wondering, curious.

He spotted Daniel out of the corner of his eye, bolt up, rushing over. Like this magazine was some kind of secret. Johnny knew he was in it. He knew that Daniel had worked on the set. It wasn't some secret that he'd have it. Unless Daniel had gotten childish and drawn fake mustaches on his face or something. 

#root beer floats and green tea #cut scenes and rewrites #I have a few more of these #so hopefully I'll get to organizing those #just summer is kind of rough atm #You know those author notes where it's like sorry it took so long life has been brutal #yeah that's been my life and I hate that I got hit with that curse

[vizziefizzie]

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Ethan Headcanons!!!

AKA: watch me dissect and yell about this 11-year-old in a needlessly long and unprofessional post because I'm deranged. (Yes, i do this to my favorite characters in my free time).

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General stuff:

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He/him pronouns (they/them is fine with friends... especially since he's still figuring out what sounds good to him)

Demipanromantic who feels strong aesthetic and physical attractions

(Fuck the mbti (unreliable and generalizing) so im using the big 5 (slay)) Sxx|A|i (highly social, average emotional stability and organization, HIGH agreeableness, mildly inquisitive.) (Also, side note, i usually hate categorizing people into specific personalities so please don't treat this like some holy text!!)

He does suffer from anxiety and stress over people, relationships, and everyone's wellbeing. He just wants everything and everyone to be okay!

He has ADHD

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Family:

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His dad died when he was young, but he doesn't know the details of his death

He has an older brother! But he's gone for college. Whenever he comes home, Ethan wants all the details!

His mom taught him how to make simple meals, so he knows how to cook and bake... but don't ask him what equipment he's using and don't ask for a grand meal (he will burn the house down)

He also has an uncle!!! Remember Ralph?? (I'm 99.9% sure that they're related based on the calls on the Pokégear.) He learned everything about fishing from him. Also, Ralph comes from his dad's side of the family.

Adventure and a love for the outdoors RUNS in that side of the family. And while Ethan's mom doesn't go out much, she very much enjoys hikes, and she met his dad on one!

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Friends:

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Kris was there with him in his early childhood, but she and her family moved to goldenrod. The two were close despite Kris' quiet nature.

He trusts Lyra and Kris with his life!

He has a penpal! (Spoiler, it's Dawn!)

His friends always bring out his hyper side!! He's perfectly comfortable being himself around them.

Silver.... he just wishes he could see him more without feeling... out of place? (He can tell that Silver doesn't exactly want him around, especially while he's training)

Every day, he scrolls through his contacts and gives everyone a call just to say hi!

Lyra moved in shortly after Kris left, and she quickly became Ethan's friend. The two act like hyperactive twins if anything else, and they often get the "Are you two related?" question.

Their parents get along too!! They bond over missing their old partners... though, Lyra's father just divorced.

Which, Lyra and Ethan cope together too! However, Ethan isn't as open about it.

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Mental health things:

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Speaking of!!! Ethan really does NOT know how to communicate his problems or insecurities to people. He's either silent and internal about it or screaming at the top of his lungs and having an emotional meltdown.

He has too much oxytocin.... people who know about stress hormones know exactly what I'm talking about (in short, it's craving support and physical contact to help relieve stress responses).

He's DEFINITELY an extrovert (not bc he's loud. No. People genuinely motivate him and he loves to just talk)... but some of his "cheerfulness" and giggling comes from a well of anxiety. He will laugh at anything, not bc he genuinely finds it funny (if he's genuinely laughing, it's non-stop wheezing and snorting between outbursts).

He has a "everything is okay!" attitude... especially around strangers. Sometimes it's good! Other times.... yeah, it's toxic positivity!!

He doesn't want people to stress about what he's stressed about! (So, he's anxious about his anxiety)

But on a side note, his mental health is usually great! But there are times when he's just not.

He often turns to exploring, helping others, and comfort foods whenever he's stressed... this happened a lot at the end of his journey and when he was champion (which was NOT a great time. But i want to make smth for that later.)

This kid suffers compassion fatigue from time to time!!! Especially when he's helping multiple strangers!! His friends are usually good about not asking for a bunch of stuff from him

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Behaviors!!:

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Remember the ADHD thing? Yeah, he stims.

Arm flaps, snapping (he has something good that he wants to say), wiggling, shifting (anxiously waiting (either positive or negative)), nail biting (he's concentrating), etc

He also has vocal ones like squeaking or speaking in a high (and quiet) voice like "woo!" or anything like that! He also loves to hum (not as much as Lyra though)

Also, he can't sit still in a chair... it's a short person with ADHD thing (im projecting SHHHH!!!) (Also we are the same height I HATE IT HERE (<- 7 years older than him))

[Patrick star voice] TOUCH

He uses tactile toys because he can't keep his hands to himself and he loves them!!

He loves to hug!!! Hugs!!!

Sometimes he can't shut up while other times he's uncharacteristically quiet.... it's usually because he's just observing other people or his head is in the clouds.

Maladaptive daydreaming goes BRRRRR!!!!

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Side things:

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He has a VERY messy room despite how prepared and organized he usually is for everything else. (Sometimes, his room is so cluttered, he needs Silver or Kris (the only organized people he knows) to help him get out and make it less of a hazard).

He loves sour and spicy things (sweet too.... but he needs that tart flavor with it)

He loves flowery scents but fruity ones overstimulate him

He hates grainy and stringy foods. He HATES oranges (but not the juice)

He is not a gamer. He SUCKS at them!! But, he's great with casual games like Animal Crossing (stress free!!)

On quiet days, he's usually sitting outside enjoying the breeze

He has suffered humiliation due to how gullible he is! But that was earlier on his journey, he's smarter now!

A lot of his team provides emotional support!!! More on that in a future post!

He can play the guitar!! Camp songs!! And calloused hands...

He sucks at reading!!! And he often needs to read aloud.

[UUhh I might add more!!!]

#shut up vizzie #omfg stfu vizzie #trainer ethan #i am so normal #PLEASE IGNORE THIS IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ!! THIS WAS MOSTLY ME RAMBLING!! #I see him in a very specific way... and it's okay if you disagree! i just wanted to write it all down!! #vizzie rambles #also i misclicked the post button and i quickly deleted it but OH GOD I LOST EVERYTHING THAT I HAD BEFORE!!! #it was a lot longer than this... and unorganized. #im not tagging everyone else bc i don't want this to take up those tags!! this is mainly about ethan! #i might add to this from time to time (especially if i spot mistakes... i have a curse of not seeing them until after I've posted) #not art #just text #long post #dear god #hgss #pokemon #dont pay attention to how i organized this. just read it #hopefully I'll have some art to post soon!!! im getting somewhere with the experimental one so that's good! #bro this post is so moldy help it was sitting in my drafts for MONTHS

[queers-gambit]

Fine Line

prompt: ( requested ) going after the same silver briefcase, you and Tangerine exchange more than a few blows. pun intended.

pairing: Tangerine x female!assassin!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 5.2k+

note: got a little outside my comfort zone with this one, so, hopefully it's not 1000% trash but you've been warned now.

warnings: codename "Peach", basically the request with a FEW tweaks here and there, so, some spoilers, cursing, (shitty) slutty smut [spitting, squirting, mean!Tan, PIV, male receiving oral, degrading behavior, talk of tops and bottoms], Tan is a switch i do not care, is this enemies to lovers? yes. depiction of canon-typical physical violence, blood, injury.

There was a fine line between love and hate.

You love your family, but God Almighty, did you hate their behavior in most public settings. You love homemade cake, but hate the entire baking process, especially the dishes. You love getting your nails done and feeling pampered, but hate sitting still in one place for that amount of time.

And you love getting fucked, but hate dealing with people.

The whole meeting someone, getting to know them, getting to a place of comfort to bring them home. It was a hassle, it was annoying to you; akin to an inconvenience and disruption. You didn't mind Tinder, actually - thinking of it as "Dick on Demand", never really needing the awkward stages of acquaintanceship. You didn't like going out places "to meet people", too busy with your work to truly put forth effort. Plus, your job didn't exactly allow for romantic entanglements to become knots; you had to keep loose and available.

This is what made your job ideal: it was remote, kept you busy, on the move, without the weight of baggage attached to people. Plus, it didn't give time nor room for anyone to become attached to you - something that always made you impossibly uncomfortable. A job such as this made life impossibly lonely, but you operated better this way - without anyone needing you, worrying about you, keeping tabs, being in your business. You liked being on your own, it was just easier. It made sense. There was logic behind it.

Didn't mean you were 100% alone, however. You had "coworkers"... Sorta. You had employers, though you were unsure where exactly they were stationed. You, yourself, resided mostly in London, but operated globally, wherever you were needed - or more like wherever you were sent to. These "coworkers" of yours had similar jobs, and while you hated putting a label on basically anything, in laymen's terms, you were a contract killer. Those you interacted with, typically, were other contract killers - but usually working different jobs.

Rarely were multiples from the same organization sent on the same job, yet it still happened.

On the off chance, you encountered a few individuals that were employed by other organizations; making them rivals instead of coworkers.

You were unsure which this all was yet...

You had been contracted by an invisible, anonymous employer to retrieve a silver briefcase with a train sticker on the handle, your handler encouraging you to get off the bullet train the moment it was in your possession. But there was a problem: you weren't the only one working this case, if the Ladybug twat and Twins was any indication.

When you located the case, you were instantly engaged by the blonde man with thick, black framed glasses; honestly getting the shit kicked out of you.

Currently, you were in possession of the case, but that was sure to change since it had already switched hands multiple times that chaotic night. You had come to a skidding halt, panting heavily, bent over on your knees in a vacant first class train car after escaping (momentarily) from Ladybug. Spitting blood from your mouth, you dialed your handler with shaking fingers; heaving a deep sniffle.

"You still alive?"

"I'll fuckin' choke you myself, Susan, I swear t'God," you groaned, sliding to the ground in exhaustion; wiping the trail of blood from your nose with a grimace.

Susan chuckled, "What's happening, honey girl?"

"Y-You didn't tell me I wasn't the only one workin' this!"

"Well, I heard rumor the Twins might be on the same case, but you usually beat them to the punch, don't you?"

"Yeah, but not this time," you winced.

"I'm sure Tangerine was happy to see you," you could hear her grin.

"Fuck off."

"He's into you, you know."

"The man snapped my tibia, punctured my kidney, and broke my nose - don't think that constitutes as anything romantic."

"Oh, you're into it," she laughed. "And don't act as if he ever walked away, scot free. If I remember correctly, you've shanked him twice?"

"He deserved it," you coughed. "Listen, fuck Tangerine - "

"I know you want to."

"Susan! Fuckin' listen to me!" You snarled. "They're not alone - there's another guy. For fuck's sake, Susan, I just got my arse kicked by a dude with a manbun!"

"Another guy? With a manbun? They're still in style?"

"Oh, my God - does it even mat - YES, they're always in style. Listen, this guy goes by the name Ladybug. Who do we know that uses codenames like that? What org?"

"Hmm," Susan thought aloud.

"What?" You spat blood from your mouth again, licking at the split lip.

"Could be KBS? They use animal codenames on rotation."

"Fuck all," you groaned. "Well, Mr. Ladybug can throw a fuckin' punch. Think he cracked a rib. But you know what? He's handsome. Almost feel bad for knockin' his lights out."

"Where are you?"

You looked around, "Emotionally? Physically?"

"You know what I mean, Peach. Where's the case?"

"With me," you assured, "uh, and I, uh... I'm not 100% where I am, I missed a couple stops fightin' these dumbfucks. Might be four stops from Kyoto? Five?"

"Get off before the end of the line," Susan warned. "At this point, I don't care if you have the case or not."

"Wait... Susan, what's that mean?"

She paused and sighed deeply, "All right, fine, time to get serious. Some intel came in, Peach... And the White Death bought out the train until the end of the line. I actually care about your safety and this just screams danger, so, get off before Kyoto, Peach, my girl. Hear me?"

"I hear you, mamas," you agreed. "I'll get off next... Stop... Oh, you've got t'be joking! Fuck me!"

"Gladly," Tangerine smirked and jokingly reached for his belt with perked brows, standing in the automatic doorway; looking beat to hell, similar to you.

You glared at him and offered your middle finger, his hands dropping as he surveyed the train car.

"Peach?"

"I'll call you back, Susan," you deflected into the phone, quickly hanging up and deflating. "Jesus fuck, look, I'm really not in the mood, Tan. Can we just make this quick? The fuck you want?"

"Do I look like I'm here t'play fuckin' games, Peach?" Tangerine asked, stalking slowly towards where you were slumped in the aisle, mid-train car, while dripping in his own blood.

"Still look like a clown t'me," you quipped. "I'll ask again: the fuck you want, Tangerine?"

"Gonna need that case, sweet peach."

You scoffed. "Seriously? You're after it, too?"

"'Fraid so."

"How many of us are on assignment? For this one fuckin' case?" You snipped, kicking the case a little.

"You look like you've seen the Ladybug fucker, haven't yah, doll?"

"He with you?"

"Fuck no."

"Where's Lemon, then?"

"Few back," He gestured back over his shoulder, pausing when you got to your feet. "C'mon, love, don't do this," He warned, mustache curling as his lip did. There was a deranged look in his eye, something stirring in your gut; seeing the shine of tears never shed, the anger, a high-strung energy filling the space around you.

"I just want off this train, Tan," you begged quietly. "Look, call it whatever you want, but something else is goin' on here - shit ain't right. Be honest, how much more difficult has tonight been? Why have we all been sent after the same briefcase? When it's supposed to just be a fucking grab job?"

Tangerine cocked his head, "Nah, no, we're on delivery."

"What?"

"Yeah, supposed t'deliver this kid and the case t'his father in Kyoto," his brows knit together.

You scolded, "You dumb fuckin' idiot!"

"I beg your pardon, sweetheart?" He leered, stepping another step closer; knotting your stomach.

"You workin' for the White Death?"

"How'd you - "

"Susan got intel, said he bought out the train, Tan. Fuck's really goin' on?"

Tangerine's jaw flexed, sighing through his nose, "Guess cat's out the bag now, innit? Yeah," he sighed, shrugging a bit, "we're doin' this job for him."

"Which means he's gonna kill us at the end of the line - why else ensure there's no other witnesses?" There was a long pause, both staring into each other's eyes without shifting attention. You shrugged and whispered, "You know, we could just jump off the bloody train. Grab Lem, get off the train before Kyoto, just fuckin' go."

"Who gets the case?"

"Where's the kid you've gotta deliver?"

"Dead - murdered, actually."

"Then you're already fucked and your job's done," you shrugged, "so, I keep the case and we all three keep our lives."

Tan sighed through his nose, offering, "You drive a temptin' bargain, love. Always enjoy our li'l run-ins," his hand extended to rest on your waist, freezing time. "But I can't walk away without that case. Lemon's down, he's been drugged, so, trust me, I'm all for just jumpin' ship, but I need the case, darlin'."

"So do I, I have somewhere else to deliver it."

"Then we have ourselves a Mexican Standoff, then, yeah?"

"No, that'd require a third."

"Kinky, but I prefer t'keep things between us, wouldn't you?" He purred against your lips, not quite kissing you as his hand tightened over bruised skin.

"Tan, don't do this," you breathed in the space between you.

"For whatever it's worth, I do usually feel bad after kickin' your arse - though, I'd much rather prefer t'kiss it."

"We can arrange that later," you smiled prettily, surging forward to kiss him fully. It was sweaty, cruel, bloody, and rough - everything you knew Tangerine to be. Yet right when he seemed entranced enough, both his hands caging your hips to his, you bit his lip in time to bring your knee up into his groin.

It sparked your fight, both exchanging blows without hesitation. You could feel your adrenaline propelling you, but it was quickly dwindling as Tangerine seemed renewed and invigorated by your fight. You, however, fought dirty; you had to - you had no other choice. He was physically bigger, stronger, but you were faster, and dare you say it, smarter. You didn't need integrity when defending yourself, easily using Tan's strength against him to add to the collect of bruises, cuts, and blood smears. But he still managed to manhandle you, sending you careening into empty seats and giving you whiplash.

You managed to swing on his back, preventing him from reaching his gun; legs coiling around his arms and flexing your abs to yank backwards. You grunted when you hit an empty bench, his head bouncing between your breasts; holding him hostage for a brief moment before you felt his hands grip your thighs in an innocently provocative way.

The moan from your lungs was unintentional, Tan flipping you both so you were on your stomach; him hovering over your back with a grunt. But there was a familiar feeling pressed into your bottom, head lifting slightly to struggle under Tangerine's grip; his reaction being exactly what you wanted as he pressed further into you.

"Just - fucking stay still!" He barked, trying to pin your hands behind you.

"Oh, you'd like that, huh?" You snapped, still struggling. "Some submissive li'l bitch?"

"Oh, darlin', I love me a top," he growled in your ear, grinding his swelling cock further into your ample arse cheeks, "but only good girls are so lucky. But don't worry," he chuckled, "I usually have cuffs on me for the bad girls, hey?"

"Fuck off, Tan, get off," you grunted, wriggling; grinding your hips up into him to try and dislodge him. He breathed deeper, and your mind played tricks on you because you swore you felt him grind back.

"I quite like this position, though, love."

"Thought you liked a top?"

"Doesn't mean I can't enjoy my own moments, huh? And you seem like you're far too used t'gettin' your way."

"So, which is it, then? You wanna fuck me or get fucked by me?"

"That an earnest question?"

You paused, "If it means I get the case, fuck yeah."

"That's not what it means, doll, but if what Susan says is true..." He nuzzled your neck briefly, lips ghosting your ear, mustache tickling your skin as he finished, "Might not get another chance."

You know he loosened his grip to let your arms snap back under you; groaning in relief. After panting for a moment, you lifted your head again, feeling his cheek brush yours and pausing to relish in the oddly intimate position. "We can always get the fuck off this train? Find a hotel in a nearby city?" You offered. "Can get me all night if you play your cards right."

"Know I can't, sweet peach," he whispered.

"Then why waste more time?" You mused, hissing when his mouth instantly fell to your neck in an open kiss that scraped his teeth into your soft flesh. "Hey - no! No ti-ime," your word hitched when he licked the sensitive skin in-sync with a roll of his hips, thrusting his hardening cock into the crease of your cheeks; making your spine shudder when his teeth scraped again.

"We got a li'l time," he promised. "Enough for a taste? You as sweet as your name, baby? Huh?"

"Tan, oh, my God," you breathed in disbelief when he reared back and manhandled you so he could unlatch the buckle of your belt and start shucking the material from your hips. "What if someone - "

"Shut up," he snapped, freeing your thighs. "Got me too fuckin' worked up t'worry 'bout someone walkin' in, yeah? Both know what's waitin' for us, don't we?"

"The White Death," you felt him yank your pants to your ankles and then shove your shoes off, pants following to the floor. "Fuck's sake!" You yelped when he roughly fingered your slit over your newly exposed panties, hearing his belt buckle jingle.

"Oi, no - "

"Fuck off," you snapped when you turned over suddenly, forcing him to pull back and glare, "I wanna watch - might as well give me a show, right? Since you're 'bouta get us all killed?"

He scoffed, "You're gettin' off the train, darlin', you're not meetin' the White Death tonight."

"Damn straight," you hooked your panties with your thumbs, lifting your hips, yanking the garment down as Tangerine continued to unlatch his belt, peel down his zipper, then pull both his boxers and trousers down in one motion.

"This isn't gonna be soft and sweet, love," he warned, standing over you on the train seat; pumping his cock to full mast while never lifting his eyes from you. "I've wanted you longer than I'll ever admit, I've got some ideas."

Your eyes rolled and fingers skated down your dampening cunt, "You're on a time schedule, maybe shut the fuck up and just fuck me already?"

He scoffed, lowering himself over you and making you gulp in anticipation; hands gravitating to his blackened waist. "You sure got a fuckin' mouth on you, don't'cha? That's all right, doll, I got somethin' for yah." His hand rose to pop a few buttons on your blouse, exposing your bra, asking, "You got a safe word?"

"Tangerine."

"Hmm? What?"

"No, that's my safe word."

"You fuckin' shithead," he hissed over your mouth, lips parting in a silent gasp when his hot cock dropped over your cunt in a tantalizing tease. "Be serious for once, yeah?"

You shrugged, "How's about 'pineapple', or is that one of your buddies names?"

"Pineapple it is," he grumbled, descending to your lips in a searing kiss that stole your breath and made your nails curl into his flesh. But a whimper emitted when he pulled back suddenly, standing over you, and moving towards your head. "Open," he demanded, holding his cockhead at your lips. "Don't give me shit about time, you need t'learn. Open your mouth."

You obediently opened your lips and Tan wasted no time in thrusting himself into your mouth; not too deep, not too rough, but enough to make you inhale sharply and readjust your position. Your one hand pumped what couldn't fit in your mouth, the other holding his thigh for balance; choking from the awkward position, but it made Tan smirk.

"That's it, see? Not so hard," he mocked. "Just gotta keep your mouth busy." You whimpered, cradling his balls; giving a playful squeeze that made him moan lightly. "Fuck, you look so pretty like this," he reached for your cheek and jaw, gently moving his hips - making you pause yourself to let him move. "Oh, fuck, that's - fuck," he seethed, "just let me do whatever I want t'you, won't you? Take a li'l more, good, good, just breathe," he guided, mouth opening in shock when he watched more of himself disappear in your mouth. "Oh, Jesus - you're such a dirty fuckin' girl, look at yah - so eager, willing," he nearly choked when he hit the back of your throat. "Shit - baby, don't," he paused to grunt, hunching over slightly and holding himself up on the back cushion of the train's seating. "Don't hurt yourself," he whimpered, your jaw opening just a fraction more, throat constricting when his cockhead slid against your uvula.

"Oh, my God," he praised, testing the waters and trying to thrust - but your gagging and choking made him pull back. "Okay, okay, too much, sorry, love. Oh, shit," he gasped when you didn't let him pull out all the way, still sucking him as if you were getting paid for it. "Yeah? 'S like that? Oh, you Godsend angel. Gonna be good fa' me? Huh? Keep quiet?" He asked gruffly, making you swallow around him; earning a hiss. "You're fuckin' dangerous, aren't you?" He scoffed, "Too bad I won't get t'take my time, innit? Fuck."

You hummed as he retracted his hips fully. His eyes caught yours as he spread your saliva around his swollen member, hearing you mumble, "Can still get off with me."

He sighed, "Isn't that easy, doll," as he lowered himself back onto the bench over you. "There's more at stake - "

"I know," you nodded, guiding his forehead to yours as you pet his cheeks; the cut he earned smearing against your skin. "Just an offer, ain't it? Just thought if yah did come, could actually have yah in my mouth - like I want." You both paused, you telling him in a whisper, "Can choke me with your cock - hmm?"

He groaned, nuzzling your nose once before kissing you swiftly, deeply. His tongue swept against yours, tasting himself briefly; rubbing his warm cock into your inner thigh as he swallowed your moans of budding pleasure. So caught up in the way he made you feel, you squeaked when his hand suddenly rose and clasped around your throat, eyes popping open as your own hands dropped to his waist in shock.

"Choke me with your dick, Tan," you reminded.

"This works, though, still shuts you up."

"You're so fuckin' bold for this," you accused, gasping when his hand tightened.

"Then maybe shut the fuck up, girl, Goddamn," he seethed, biting your bottom lip, reopening the split, tightening his hand another degree. "You're gonna be a good fuckin' girl, aren't you? Huh? Think you can manage that? Know you got a problem with authority, doll, but you're gonna do as you're told, aren't yah?"

You glared but didn't answer.

"Yeah, that's real good," he mused when you had no words. "Now open your fuckin' mouth again."

When you did, he dribbled a line of spit onto your tongue, squeezing his hand around your throat and jaw when he wanted you to swallow. His smirk was something sinister and devious, peaking down to then paw your blouse the rest of the way open and tug your bra down until your breasts were exposed.

"Fuckin' knew you had great tits," he grit while gripping, twisting, tweaking your breast meat and nipple; not letting go of your throat to ensure your silence. "Not good for much else, huh? Are you?" He sneered, "Only sent on a grab job, weren't you? But look at you now, so fuckin' ready for me, so needy, excited, all distracted, desperate for my cock - aren't you? Answer me right fuckin' now," he growled.

"Yes," you croaked, gyrating your hips up into his; feeling his bare cock drag over your cunt and salivating.

"Good," he spoke to himself, shoving your hips back down as one hand rose to hold his cheek to keep yourself grounded. He chuckled to himself, "Just pathetic, innit? The way you crave me? Dumb fuckin' girl, can't even focus on a simple mission, can she? Huh? Can you?"

"No," you whimpered, "need more. Please, please."

"Shut up, I got you," he rolled his eyes, "but you don't really deserve it, do you?"

"I do, I swear - "

"Told you to shut the fuck up, though, yeah? Can't even do a simple task, got your head all stupid, do I? 'S good t'know, if we survive this."

You glared, seeing his grin widen before he was descending onto you again. You licked through the seam of his lips, being granted access; exploring the other's mouth in feverish motions that made your head spin and cunt contract. He still toyed with your tit, then abandoning the ministration to scale down your bodies to where you needed him most while your hand slid into his hair to grip his bloody scalp. You were so close to begging, yet you'd never give a man the satisfaction... Yet if Tangerine requested you to beg, beg you shall.

"That's my girl," he praised when he pet swiftly up your slit; gathering your slick in a single motion to spread around your clit. "Yeah, there's my girl, look at yah," he laughed over your mouth, "already so fuckin' dumb and I ain't even touch yah yet."

You whined a little, his hand readjusting his grip.

"Oh, fuckin' fine, you greedy bitch," he rolled his eyes, sinking a single digit into your heat; earning a high-pitched moan of relief. Tangerine laughed again, "Yeah? So desperate that just me fuckin' finger gets you like that?"

You tapped his wrist when he held a little too tight, him instantly loosening his grip around your throat. He rewarded you with a few pumps of his finger before adding a second, grinning when you had enough airflow to moan loud and clear.

"You make such pretty noises," he praised, "stupid, but pretty noises. Lemme hear you - that's all I wanna hear, not your fuckin' words, princess. Huh? Can you do that for me?"

You nodded, ready to cry from the anticipation he built in your body. With your bottom lip between your teeth, you let yourself clench around his digits, moaning when he massaged that spongy good spot of your inner walls.

"Wait - Tan - wait, wait," you begged and released his waist to reach for his wrist while he grinned.

"Aht," he let go of your neck to lay across your hips to keep hold, "stay there, be a good girl. Lemme see you - c'mon, love, get there for me," he pumped harder, faster, a small sweat coating your skin. The sounds were obscure and messy, sloppy and frantic, wet and pornographic; his breathing deep and huffy while yours was high-pitched. "So fuckin' pretty like this, under me like this. There's a good girl, yeah, chase that feelin', 's all right, don't run from me."

"Tan-Tangerine, shit, please," you babbled, unsure of yourself. "I-I don't - I don't - oh, fuck!"

"Let it happen," he encouraged, leering over you; only briefly aware of his cock leaking precum on your thigh. "Let that feeling take you, there's a good girl, you're right there - good fuckin' girl," Tan broke his mean streak to praise you briefly, feeling the familiar flutter. "Open, hey, hey, eyes on me, princess," he waited until your half-lidded eyes met his, watching him nod, "open your mouth." You were so blissed out, you didn't think, just doing so and accepting more of his spit. He grinned at you when your eyes rolled back, encouraging, "Go for it, pretty girl, fuckin' soak me, don't hold back - c'mon, wanna fuckin' feel you, need t'fuckin' feel you cum - ohh-hoo, yes, yes, yes," he chanted when you squealed, squirmed, and released a stream of squirt that splattered over you both.

But that wasn't all.

Tangerine was mesmerized, never relenting his efforts and before you had time to recover, he was forcing another wave of cum from your core. His thick body held yours in place, desperately squirming to try and get away from the overwhelming feeling; but he had you and wouldn't let go. "One more, one more, one more," Tan panted, hovering over you as his bulging bicep kept hammering into you without relent. He kissed you messily, "One more, baby, c'mon, I know you got it in you."

"I can't," you sobbed, trying to squirm away under him.

"You can, doll, you're right there, I fuckin' feel you - such a good girl, c'mon," he encouraged, offering a few messy kisses to your lips while you wantonly moaned without control. "One more, just for me, c'mon, baby, you can do it - just fa' me - there she is, yes, oh, fuck, yes, yes, yes," he laughed when you, for a third time, came in his hand and over his crotch.

"FUCK!" You yelped when he used the messy slick of your orgasm to line himself up and plunge directly into you. "Oh, shit - just - a minute, baby, hang on - fuck," you panted, holding his hips tightly with your legs spread. Slowly, you let them fall around his own as you relaxed.

"Got you, baby, 'M right here, take yah time," he whispered, flattening his tongue up your neck as he adjusted himself between your legs.

Half a minute later, you gave him permission to move - and it was the beginning of the end. You were sensitive, tight, gripping Tangerine to a new degree he hadn't felt before; his head spinning and mind short circuiting. You were nearly constrictive, webs of your stickiness coating him as he moved stiffly for the first few thrusts. As you loosened up under him, he gained momentum; your hands directing his face back to yours as you clung desperately to his hulking form.

He kissed you like it was the last thing he'd do (and maybe it was), holding your hips so he could drill into you easier; lifting one hand to pet your throat before gripping it, like before. The other then drifted to hike your leg up his hip, the new angle making him shudder lightly. "I'm there, love," he grunted, looking concentrated and borderline in pain, "right fuckin' there - ah shit, you feel so fuckin' good."

"Yes, yes, don't stop, Tan, please," you moaned, locating your clit to apply pressure and rub in harsh little circles.

"Ah, my greedy girl," he chuckled, "three wasn't enough?"

"Wanna cum with you," you whimpered, gasping into his mouth as you were overly sensitive and careened off your cliff. Your orgasm triggered Tangerine's, who plunged completely into you and held still while his balls contracted; mouths left gaping open against the other. In complete bliss, you shared a laugh of disbelief with sweaty foreheads pressed together - both forgetting reality for a bit.

At the moment Tan opened him mouth to confess something to you, Lemon decided to stumble in through the automatic door, yelling, "Bruv! Oi! Where you at!?"

"GET OUT!" Tangerine roared, barely visible over the top of the benches.

"The fuck you doin', mate?"

You latched your legs around Tan, keeping his cock planted snuggly inside you; rocking upward to hold onto his neck and spy his brother over the back of the seating. "Hi, Lem!" You chirped.

"Peach? Oh, fuck me!" He laughed. "Or - fuck you, ammirite?"

"Give us a minute, honey, would you, please?"

"Only a minute?" He laughed again. "'Cause that's all you need, right, Tan?"

"Fuck off, Lemon," Tangerine snapped. "We got the case, we're gettin' the fuck off at the next stop - just - fuck off a minute."

Lemon shrugged, "You make the plans, mate."

"Be out inna bit, love, thank you," you smiled prettily at Lemon, who finally nodded, held his hands up in defense and backed out of the train car. "Well," you mused when Tangerine leaned back into the seat but kept a firm grip on your hips, "that was only mildly embarrassing."

"He's seen me in worse positions," Tan shrugged, blinking when he realized how that sounded, exactly. "Not like that - no, just, I mean, as my bruva, you know, he's seen - you know what?" He sighed. "Don't fuckin' matter."

"So," you smirked, grinding your hips over his public hair, "you're taking my advice? Gettin' off the train?"

"I knew you were greedy, but this naughty, too?" He groaned, slapping his hands to your hips and guiding your motions. "Just filled you, love, and you want more?"

"That an issue?" You smirked, feeling him swell in you again.

"Not a bit," he smirked.

"Answer me," you demanded. "You seriously gettin' off?"

"Why the fuck not? The kid's dead and whatever's in the case should cover however pissed off this makes the bosses, right? Though..." He trailed off when one of your hands reached around to give a gentle tug on his balls.

"Keep goin'," you whispered with a growing smirk, hips swirling.

"Though," he cleared his throat, "don't think we've ever not finished a job before."

"This is different," you promised.

He gulped harshly, encouraging your motions; stretching up to squeeze both breasts and making you falter slightly into him. "All three of us are gonna get off, yeah?" He whispered, bringing you in closer as your hips began to rise and fall with steady tempo. "Got somewhere fa us t'go?"

"I'll get it arranged," you promised swiftly, arms coiling around his neck to hold yourself in position as you increased your speed. "But we're giving my employer the case."

"Fine with me," he nodded, "just wanna stay alive at this point." You chuckled with him, raising up to keep riding him; his eyes glancing over your shoulder and stiffening. "Uh, love? H-Hang on, hang on," his arms encased you suddenly, making you stop all ministrations.

"W-What's wrong? You okay?"

"Where's the fucking case?"

Your waist twisted to snap your torso around, peering over at the empty benches you had once sat in front of. Your blood was left behind... But the silver briefcase with a train sticker on the handle was missing.

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

Six train cars up, Ladybug shuddered and told Maria, "Christ, they were at it like rabbits. And, hey, like, is it cool to be mean during sex now? 'Cause he was kinda mean, but she seemed into it, so... That's cool, I guess?"

"Some people like that," Maria eased.

"Do you?"

"You don't want that answer. Do you have the case?"

"For now," he sighed. "How much you wanna bet they haven't noticed, yet? Bet they're still goin' at it..."

"You sound jealous."

"They're both very attractive people... Hm, you know, maybe I am a little jealous."

"Of which one?"

"Not entirely sure yet."

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

#tangerine #tangerine bullet train #bullet train tangerine #tangerine smut #tangerine x female!reader #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine x f!reader #tangerine x reader #tangerine imagine #tangerine x you #tangerine x y/n #tangerine x oc #bullet train #bullet train movie #bullet train 2022 #atj #tangerine atj #atj tangerine #atj character #bullet train tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train x reader #tangerine x reader smut #requested #queers gambir

[evertidings]

Hello! I'm thinking of starting an IF story later this year, and am completely new to coding and how to organise a chose-your-own-adventure. I was wondering whether you could share how you organise each route/the story of WTS, please. Love your work!

hi!! if you're overwhelmed by formatting and you're writing in twine, i'd actually recommend writing directly in the twine app. it has a great mind-map aesthetic that can help you visualize things.

but if you're curious as to how i write, i've attached some screenshots below. i believe i've talked about this before, but i'll go over it again because why not?

example #1: sections

one of the most important steps for me when organizing a document is having headers. it allows me to jump from section to section, rather than scrolling through for ages trying to find something. it also helps me break the chapter into smaller sections, which makes things less overwhelming for me.

example #2: choices.

in terms of the document itself, i make sure to differentiate texts with various colours to make things easier on the eyes. i also make sure they are visually different. for example, in chapter ten, i wrote my choices in a purple colour and indented them slightly. i also write each line with bullet points, just so i know the text that follows is part of that choice and not general text.

example #3: if statements.

similar to my choices, i colour my "if statements" in a different colour than the general text. i also indent them further than the choices and change the bullet point that it's written on, just so i can further differentiate the two. for those who don't know, if statements act like flavour text, which show up only if you've completed or met a certain requirement prior to the scene. in the picture below, the flavour text reveals itself if you've been rude to Blane seven times or more. otherwise, you get the general text.

overall: aside from those two formatting decisions, my word document is really standard. luckily, i'm able to keep track of a my branches in my head, so this system works for me, but it goes without saying that it won't be for everyone. as i said at the beginning of the post, if you're more visual, twine (or some sort of mindmap tool) might be useful. hopefully this is (slightly) helpful. if anyone has more questions on this, please let me know! i'm always happy to answer them :)))

p.s. if anyone is confused about all the "<" and ">" symbols, that's just part of my twine coding. i usually copy and paste what i write in word into my code, so this just saves me from typing it.

#ask #advice

[jbbartram-illu]

I'd love to know more about layering glazes!! I've taken ceramic classes in school and as you can imagine we were limited to single glazes to stop kids from mixing things together with too-early second coats.

Ooohhh get ready for another ramble because I am SO into glaze layering (tho also very early on in the journey...now that I have a kiln, I'll have way more capacity for tossing in some test tiles alongside the proper work, so hopefully I'm only getting nerdier in this aspect of the craft!).

A couple of beasts featuring cool surface effects via layering glazes!

The main thing that got me properly into glaze layering was the fact that both Mayco & Amaco provide online resources for layering their glazes, which provided me with a foundation to start from when deciding what glazes to layer.

Mayco's glaze layering resource

Amaco's Glaze layering resource

With few exceptions, all of my layered glazes have been based on suggestions from those sites. Of course, most look slightly different from the reference photos provided due to firing temp/clay type, but it's amazing to have something to work from!

The other crucial thing that comes along with glaze layering (& just glazing in general!) is keeping a record of your choices. I've got a two-pronged system going now where I write everything down in a notebook while working, then take proper photos when the pieces are done & put it in an app on my phone called ClayLab.

This allows me to more easily organize my glaze results & reference them in a more streamlined way than my initial system of 'read tragically messy notes in notebook while scrolling through my overloaded & disorganized phone photo album'. Sometimes apps DO make things easier!

Here are some photos of my not-at-all-unhinged notebook scrawlings & a screenshot of the ClayLab app:

The app lets you apply all kinds of info to each entry & then filter by all those categories (eg. type of vessel/creature, glaze name, clay type, etc). I really do recommend it if you want a non-stressful way of keeping track of your glazing choices!

So yeah!! I hope this was a little bit helpful? I'll be talking a bit more about my personal favourite glazes/layered glazes in a future ask, which I'll post soon!

#artblog #pottery #ceramics #handbuiltceramics #ceramicart #glaze #pottery glazing #ask #ask answered

[hollandorks]

fright

battinson! bruce wayne x gn! reader

summary: in the midst of investigating a drug that kills people with their own fear, Bruce is drugged.

**not affiliated with middle of the night**

a/n: I'm back with something new, finally! I've been wanting to write this for a while, just for fun, because the battinson brain rot still hasn't gone away in over a year. Hopefully I'll be doing more oneshots from here on out! I tried to make this reader as gender neutral as possible but if I slipped up anywhere let me know so I can fix it!

word count: 7081

The abandoned subway station is cold and damp but comfortingly familiar. 

Alfred had simply waved you downstairs to get started on your work while Bruce was out on patrol. That was one thing about constantly being around a vigilante–it turned you into a night owl, the changes almost imperceptible until you can no longer fall asleep on your own before two in the morning, even in the comfort of your own apartment. Sometimes you aren’t sure if it was because you’re used to working late on your nights working with Bruce…

Or if you couldn’t fall asleep until you knew Gotham’s vigilante was home safe again after another night. 

So since you’re a night owl these days, you’ve taken to doing your work in the darkest parts of the night, comfortable with commuting after dark. Though Alfred and Bruce both insisted on you keeping a guest room in Wayne Tower when you work late, as neither of them are comfortable with you walking Gotham alone at night. Sometimes the city’s resident vigilante watches over you, but for those other times–those other times you stay in the drafty room set aside for you, one floor below Bruce’s bedroom. 

You aren’t sure you’re supposed to know where Bruce’s bedroom is, exactly. But unbeknownst to the man himself, you’ve helped Alfred twice now haul his huge frame to bed when he’d passed out from either exhaustion or severe injuries. And as it was, it never came up in conversation that you had seen his bedroom, the space just as cluttered as the subway station belowground was. 

You wouldn’t admit, either, that may or may not have snooped. His bedroom was neat, but organized in a way only his mind seemed to understand, the same as where he kept everything Batman-related. The bedroom closet was full of dark colors and clothes that were at least a decade old, and a full row of the black work boots he preferred to wear with his armor, some scuffed and torn beyond recognition, a couple of pairs almost new. 

It isn’t a secret, exactly, but you knew Bruce well enough by now to know he probably wouldn’t like that you’d seen his bedroom without permission. 

It’s his bedroom you think of now as you sit down to work at your designated desk in the abandoned station. The space was less lived in that the basement around you. Did Bruce prefer the bats for company? Or was the tower above too full of ghosts for him to face? Either way, he spends more of his time downstairs than up. There’s even a ratty secondhand couch shoved to one side where he seems to do most of his sleeping. You’ve seen him crash there more times than you could count. 

You stretch already-cold fingers and boot up the multiple computer screens that have become yours even though you only own the laptop. 

You’ve been working with him for a few months now, the connection pure chance, as most things in your life were. Your move to Gotham, your skill with computers, your meeting with a kevlar-covered vigilante. It was all chance, a force you believe in almost as much as you believe in gravity. 

It had been a beautiful night that night, which really should have been your first clue that it was all going to hell. You were taking a simple walk to clear your head after a long day at work. You’d hated the corporate job you were working at, which was, ironically enough, at Wayne Enterprises. 

That night was the first time you were acquainted with Gotham’s dark, violent underbelly. It was also the first time you met the man you’d thought was simply an urban legend–the Batman, a shadow turned savior at the moment you thought it would all be over. 

He’d disappeared as your thanks rose to your lips, swallowed up by the night before you could utter the words. 

The second time you met Batman was by chance, too. You’d gotten some information on a crime and, well, you had done the not-so-smart thing and used your computer skills to follow the lead. 

Batman had followed the same lead through different methods. 

Showing up at the same place at first led him to suspect you, but once you’d pulled out your laptop and proven how you’d gotten the information by using Gotham’s surveillance cameras to track the assholes down, he was curious. He wanted you to show him exactly how you’d done it. He’d revealed his curious mind to you that night, and that was the first piece of him you developed a crush on. 

The sharp jawline didn’t hurt, either. 

You smile to yourself as your fingers work over the keyboard to the computer in front of you. These days, he has you scouring surveillance cameras, police scanners, and internet forums for leads on cases. You also have your not-so-legal hacking skills to accomplish those things. And that’s in between the research you do on current cases. Not to mention the extra work you do behind his back to keep Batman’s identity from ever getting out–not that he needs to know that, not yet. It’s mostly deleting everything you can get your hands on that discusses his possible identity, whether it’s really far off base or a little too close to home.

It’s a lot of work, but you love it. You’d barely given it a thought when Bruce–before you’d known his identity–had asked you to help him. You’d said yes before the question had been fully finished. 

Tonight, Bruce is staking out the seedier parts of Gotham trying to track down a new drug. At least, you think it’s a new drug. Several people have turned up dead, their features marred by their own hands, with something unknown in their bloodstreams. The medical examiner said it seemed as if they had all been…frightened to death, the levels of cortisol and adrenaline in their blood sky high. 

Right now you have your computers working in the background to monitor police chatter, any hints from the dark web, and anything else you can think of to track down the source of the drug. While the program works to search for keywords and phrases on one of your three monitors, the other two screens are split between all of the ME reports and the information on each victim and real-time video feeds from every camera in the city you can get your hands on. 

Bruce doesn’t know that you’re trying to watch his back while working the case. 

You worry about him, even though he’s probably the most capable person you’ve ever met. 

The third time you’d met him he’d shown up at your apartment bleeding everywhere. He hadn’t even known he was bleeding everywhere. He’d gotten into a fight while tracking you down to get you to use your skills on another case and simply ignored his injuries in favor of keeping his goal. 

Luckily, a few days earlier you’d sliced your finger open while cooking and had some of the weird liquid bandaid stuff you’d been using. There’d been a ghost of a smile on Bruce’s face when you’d run and gotten it for him. He’d thanked you softly, and then gone back to being all-business as you worked on the gash on his arm. As you’d bandaged the cut, he told you about the case he was working, and how your computer skills would really help him out. 

He started turning up more frequently after that, asking for help on cases. Until the day he’d asked if you wanted a permanent position helping him–paid and everything. 

And now here you were, in his innermost circle, allowed to know everything about him. At least, as much of everything as he let anyone know. 

Your computer pings right as Bruce grunts over the comms. It’s another thing he might not know about, your nightly tuning in to the comms as he goes out. Not that you aren’t allowed, but it’s something you won’t admit to unless directly questioned. 

You sit up straight so fast it sends your desk chair rolling backwards. Fumbling for the edge of your desk to pull yourself forward, you frantically click through tabs to figure out where the alert was coming from. 

A connection. 

Your breath leaves in a rush as you scan the information. 

Then you’re scrambling back for the comms, flipping the mic on, and trying to string a coherent sentence together.

“I found a lead,” you finally manage. It sounds like he’s in the middle of a fight. Oops. You push on, knowing he can hear you even if he can’t respond. “They were all patients at Arkham Asylum at some point. And they all were treated by the same doctor, Jonathan Crane.” 

Bruce starts cursing. There’s a strange hissing noise over the comms. You lightly shake the computer, trying to figure out the source of the static. 

“I know,” he finally says. The hissing has stopped, but now there’s a new noise. A familiar noise. The sound of his motorcycle revving to life. 

“Wh–how?” you say, unsure how he found out before you did. 

There’s more cursing and the sound of the bike speeding up. 

“I’m–shit.” He coughs. “I’m on my way back. Tell Alfred to–” His breath stutters for a moment. “I don’t–” 

“Please tell me you haven’t been stabbed to death,” you say with more bravado than you feel. With one hand, you text Alfred to come downstairs with the first aid kit. 

But the comms have gone silent. Bruce is breathing heavily, the only way you know he’s still there.

“Where were you hit?” you ask. “What street? How bad is it?” 

No answer. Bruce makes a noise that raises every hair on your body. 

It sounds like he’s…afraid.

You scramble to pull up every feed you have and find out where he’s been so you could see what happened. 

In all your months knowing him, you’ve never heard Bruce make such a noise. You’ve never heard him afraid like that. Something about it raises every hair on the back of your neck. 

You search camera after camera on the streets of Gotham, looking for any sign of Bruce at the moment he said he was on his way back. You curse quietly to yourself, the sound of Bruce’s motorcycle engine through the comms filling the echoing space around you. 

Then–there. Grainy as all get out and the only angle is available from a building across the street. But it’s him–there’s no denying the hulking shadow that is the Batman. He’s helping someone, a woman who appears to be screaming though the video has no audio attached. She thrashes and hits at Bruce, seemingly hysterical. 

Then she goes utterly still. You realize that it was about this time where you flipped the comms on to listen. 

Someone steps out of the shadows of the alley in front of them and there’s a sudden small cloud of fog. 

Bruce darts away, hopping on his motorcycle as the figure moves fully into the light. He–because you can see now that it’s a man–looks down at the woman dead on the sidewalk. Then his face tilts upward and you see why Bruce said, I know. 

It was the doctor himself, the one who’d been treating all of the dead patients. 

Jonathan Crane. 

Even with the shitty quality, his face is a clear match for the identification photo linked to Arkham. 

You immediately save images of the video for Gordon to see. Here’s the proof you need–this and the Batman’s testimony of an attack surely are enough to at least get Crane investigated properly. 

Hopefully. 

The small printer starts to spit out the pictures as the roar of a familiar engine abruptly cuts off in the tunnels outside of the station. 

You straighten. 

“Bruce?” you call out uncertainly. Normally he comes tearing in, hopping the motorcycle up on the ramp to be worked on and showing off a bit as he does it, or parking haphazardly near his work tables so he can get straight back to work. In the months you’d known him, he’d never stopped outside of the station for any reason. 

Your heart is somewhere near your feet as you tentatively step forward. 

“Bruce?” you say again, this time much quieter. 

You’re suddenly yanked backwards off your feet as a gloved hand presses against your mouth. You squirm, panicked, trying to get away. You lament all the times you refused Bruce’s self defense lessons.

“Shh, be quiet,” a familiar voice says. 

You relax all at once. 

It’s Bruce. 

Even through his armor, you can feel his heart pounding rapidly. His breath comes in sharp gasps that he struggles to keep quiet. 

He lets you turn in his arms. His eyes are wild, panicked. 

“Where are you hurt?” you murmur quietly. Your eyes track over every inch of him. There’s no blood that you can see, but he’s still in his all-black armor and you’re both tucked in the shadows near the hangar door that opens into the tunnels. You probably wouldn’t be able to see the blood if there was any. 

Bruce is still panting like he’s been running. “They’re coming,” he whispers. You frown. You already checked all the cameras from his route home and the security cameras in the tunnel. He came in alone. 

There’s a quiet noise somewhere in the distance, probably just a bat going to bed for the day, but Bruce yanks you close against his chest and whirls with one fist raised. 

Now you’re afraid, too. Has someone followed him all this way and you missed it somehow? Has someone found his inner sanctum? Are you both in danger? 

Another noise startles you both. 

The elevator descending. 

Bruce’s eyes are wild beneath his mask. 

“It’s Alfred,” you whisper, but Bruce seems not to hear you. 

“I’m not letting you out of my sight,” he murmurs into your ear, dragging you along with him into the recessed shadows by the elevator. You stumble along, still tucked against his side, the feeling of his breath on your ear lingering and making you shiver. Even though you’re afraid, you feel safe. “We’ll get you help, I promise.” You’re not sure what you need help with, but you remain quiet. 

Bruce has always protected you, whether he knows it or not. 

He physically protects you, sure, watching your back as the Batman, keeping you safe in a city as turbulent as Gotham. But Bruce also has always looked out for your mental health, too. 

There have always been nights where things are just…bleak, whether or not for any particular reason. You withdraw into yourself during those times, much like Bruce himself does. Somehow he always, always knows how to draw you back out. Sometimes it’s a quiet joke, sometimes a request to help him with something, sometimes it’s only his quiet company as he sits and works next to you. 

So even now, as you fear every moving shadow, every noise, thinking someone might be coming after you…

Even now, you know you’ll be safe and protected with Bruce. 

It’s part of why you love him. 

Not that he’d ever know that. 

“Stay put,” Bruce says into your ear, making you shiver all over again. 

He pushes gently on your shoulders in a stay put motion and steps away on silent feet. Even now his grace surprises you, even after months of watching him, being around him. He is a wonder to behold, a massive shadow that becomes weightless in a single breath. It’s like he becomes incorporeal at will, turning into shadow and smoke before he strikes. 

The elevator gates rattle open and Bruce leaps. 

Alfred is on the ground, first aid kit scattering to all corners of the station with a clatter, in barely a blink.

“Bruce!” you half-shout, the instinct automatic. Your voice overlaps with Alfred’s, the echoes sending the bats into a frenzy overhead. 

Bruce goes utterly still, one fist raised like he’s going to hit Alfred. Alfred of all people. He flinches at the bats but his focus is on Alfred. 

Alfred is as calm as ever despite the figure looming threateningly over him. 

“Are you alright?” he asks. “Are you hurt?” 

“Alfred,” Bruce chokes out and the sound is agonized. He seems paralyzed. “I’m sorry, I was too slow–” 

The three of you don’t move. 

You approach slowly. “Bruce?” you say softly, like he’s a wild animal backed into a corner. Because that’s what he looks like–wild, feral, and most of all, scared. You think of the ME reports and have to bite your lip to distract yourself from the fear that brings. 

“You have to–you have to tie me up,” Bruce says, his arm trembling like he’s holding himself back. “He dosed me with–whatever it is.” His eyes dart around the space. 

You straighten as if shocked. “Dr. Crane did?” 

“Yes, he–” Bruce flinches and then refocuses on Alfred, still beneath him and as calm as ever as if it were an everyday experience. “Oh God. No, no, no. No. I’m sorry.” 

Then Bruce does something even more shocking. 

He sobs.

You startle as if a gunshot has gone off. 

You’ve never heard Bruce cry. You’ve never even really seen him sad. Angry, sure. And frustrated. Those seem to be his two main moods, other than generally quiet. The happiness is rare, but you’ve seen that too. 

But you’ve never, ever heard him cry. 

“Bruce?” you say again, uncertain. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he groans. “I couldn’t save you, I’m sorry.” He scrambles away from Alfred. His eyes are still wild, darting every which way, his expression frantic under the mask. 

Your brain works quickly through all the evidence you’ve been digging into. 

“It’s making him afraid,” you tell Alfred as the older man gets unsteadily to his feet. Bruce whirls and throws a punch, but there’s nothing there. “Whatever he was dosed with, it’s making him afraid.” 

What you don’t tell Alfred is that this drug most likely scared the other victims to death. 

Your heart pounds with enough fear that you wonder briefly if you’ve been dosed too. 

“If he’s like this, he won’t react well to being tied up,” Alfred says, but he starts moving efficiently, pulling zip ties from Bruce’s belt as he fights invisible foes. 

In one swift movement, Alfred grabs Bruce’s wrist, kicks him in the back of one knee, and grabs the other wrist. 

You gape as he tightens Bruce’s hands behind his back even as he thrashes. 

“No!” Bruce shouts. “Let me go! I have to get there before it’s too late! No!” 

“How did you–?” You stare at Alfred with your mouth open slightly. Alfred is a man of many hidden talents, apparently. 

“We need to get him more secure,” Alfred says, still calm as ever. And maybe, with as long as he’s been around Bruce, this sort of thing is normal. You’ve only been around a few months–Alfred’s been around since the beginning. You wonder just how many times Bruce has gotten himself into messes like this. 

Alfred grunts as Bruce tries to get away. Apparently, Alfred’s strong, even with an old leg injury. You hold the man in high esteem but it just gets higher as you watch him. 

“Tell me what to do,” you say as you straighten your spine. Bruce needs you, and that’s all that matters. You need him to make it through the night–that’s your focus right now. 

“See if you can calm him down long enough for us to get him upstairs. His bed should be sturdy enough for us to tie him to.” Alfred grunts and manages to shove Bruce back to his knees as he rises. 

You quickly kneel in front of Bruce and take his face in your hands. “Bruce? It’s me. It’s okay. Alfred and I are okay.” 

Bruce’s eyes roll around without focus. His breathing is even worse now, each breath rasping out of his chest, his whole body heaving with it. 

You try to push the memory of the crime scene photos out of your mind. Bodies twisted with fear. People who were dosed with whatever this was who died scared out of their minds. 

You’re terrified for Bruce, but you push it away. 

“Bruce, please,” you say, softer now, fingers pressed tightly against his cheeks. You can feel the slight scrape of stubble on your palms. 

Bruce’s brilliant blue eyes finally meet yours. “No,” he says and the desperate word is like a bullet to your heart. His whole body strains towards you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t die.” 

“Bruce, I’m okay,” you say. Your hands fumble before gripping the mask and pulling it off. Bruce cringes away. “I’m okay, I’m not dying.” Your fingers card through his hair. Damp with sweat, it sticks up with the movement. Bruce leans into the touch, and his breathing seems to ease slightly. 

“Y/n,” he mumbles. His eyes close for a second. 

“Bruce, let’s get you upstairs,” Alfred says in a low voice. 

Somehow, the pair of you get him up, hands still tied behind his back, and into the elevator. Bruce keeps repeating his apologies, every sound from his lips pained and terrified. 

“Alfred we need to–to get the drug out of his system somehow, if we can. I don’t know what else to do.” You whisper the words because you’re worried about setting Bruce off even further. You hold tight to his armored elbow. 

“I can get an IV started once we get him settled, that might work.” Alfred furrows his brow. “Y/n…how bad is this drug? What have you found in your research?” 

You hesitate, staring up at Bruce for a moment. His arms jerk in their restraints, but there’s nowhere for him to go in the small space of the elevator. “I don’t know how many people were dosed with it and survived,” you finally admit. 

Alfred goes still and stares at you while absently wrangling Bruce back into the corner. “How many died?” 

“I don’t know. Five, I think. Three for sure. Bruce watched a woman die from it right before he got hit in the face with it.” You chew your lip. Your eyes fill with tears as you meet Bruce’s anguished blue eyes.

“Then we will do everything in our power to keep him alive,” Alfred swears. “After he’s secured, I’ll get the IV started first and then we’ll make sure to monitor his vitals. If it gets too bad…” 

“He won’t be happy if he has to go to the hospital,” you say, but part of you wants to insist that you take him anyway. 

“No!” Bruce shouts as the elevators open. 

You don’t know what he’s responding to, but suddenly he’s frantic again, whatever slight semblance of calm he had in the elevator abruptly gone. He aims a kick at the wall and somehow leverages his bound hands in front of him. 

Alfred curses and shoves Bruce against the same wall. He braces the younger man with his whole body but his bad leg trembles. 

“Go get the medical bag!” Alfred says. “We need to sedate him.” 

You pause. “But what if something reacts with the drug?” 

Alfred curses again. “There’s nothing else to do. We’ll give him as low a dose as we can and keep an eye on him. Go!” 

So you run. Your feet slip over dusty hardwood floors as you scramble as fast as you can for Alfred’s medical bag. The bag is full of everything Alfred might need in a Batman-related emergency in case Bruce couldn’t make it home or even upstairs. The first aid kit is for general injuries–this bag is for when things go to hell. 

It feels as if hours have passed in the short amount of time it took to grab the bag. When you reach the elevator again, Alfred and Bruce are gone. You can hear them in Bruce’s bedroom now and hurry towards them. 

“Get his other arm!” Alfred says as he handcuffs one of Bruce’s hands to his massive wood headboard. 

You scramble up on the bed and over Bruce to do as Alfred says. 

“Let me tie you up, Bruce,” you say gently even though you aren’t sure he can hear you. “Please,” you say as he fights your grip. He’s so much bigger and stronger than you, it’s nearly impossible to even get the handcuffs on his wrist, let alone connected to the other side of the headboard. 

“Alfred,” you say around a grunt. You’re fully straddling Bruce now but he doesn’t even seem to notice. He’s seeing things that aren’t there. It sounds like he’s having an asthma attack, he’s breathing so hard and wheezing so much. God, what if he stops breathing and passes out from his panic?

It takes several more minutes of you and Alfred both yanking on Bruce’s arm–because damn is he strong–before he’s finally, finally secured against the headboard. 

You immediately start taking off the armor on his arms as Alfred preps the IV. You sit on Bruce’s legs to stop his incessant kicking, murmuring soothing words to him the whole time. You and Alfred will both be covered in bruises tomorrow, but you don’t even notice any pain at the moment. 

Bruce freaks out when Alfred sticks the needle in his arm. He shouts wordlessly and thrashes so hard the bed moves away from the wall. You curse under your breath and get off of him. 

“Hold this arm as best you can,” Alfred says. 

“Who knew he could cause so much damage while handcuffed?” The joke comes out wobbly, though, your worry seeping through your words. Even leaning all of your body weight on Bruce, he still makes it nearly impossible for Alfred to get the IV in.

You both breathe a sigh of relief when it finally goes in. Alfred works quickly and efficiently, still the perfect picture of calm even though he must be freaking out as much as you are–if not more. 

After another minute, Bruce relaxes marginally. He stops trying to escape and settles back into the pillows, still awake and staring with wild eyes around the room. Every so often he jerks one of his restraints, as if testing them.

You blow out another breath. 

“I’m going to monitor his pulse and blood pressure,” Alfred says as he pulls the necessary things out of the giant medical bag. “We’ll have to keep an eye on him until the drug passes through his system.” 

You nod, staring down at Bruce, feeling utterly helpless. How are you supposed to fight someone’s own mind? There’s nothing you can do that isn’t being done already–and there’s still no guarantee Bruce will survive.

As quick as it comes, you shut the thought down. Bruce will make it through this, even if it kills you. 

You finish undoing his chest plates and set them to the side. You brush Bruce’s hair back from his face. 

“You’ll be okay,” you say solemnly. “You’re too stubborn to die, and Alfred and I are too stubborn to let you.” When you look up, Alfred is frowning at the blood pressure machine and the pulse oximeter on Bruce's finger. “What?” 

“Talk to him again,” is all he says. 

You raise an eyebrow but turn back to Bruce. “Who knew Alfred was so strong, huh?” you say, aiming for lightness, but the words seem to fall short. 

You reach out and smooth his wild, dark hair. 

Alfred’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “I think you calm him down, my dear.” 

It’s your turn to frown. “What do you mean?”

“Whenever you talk or touch him, his pulse drops a little and his breathing gets easier.” Alfred gives you a knowing look. 

Alfred’s the only one who knows about your crush on Bruce. He’s told you, repeatedly, to admit your feelings, but you’re too scared. Bruce is so far out of your league it’s laughable. Just because he trusts you enough with his secret doesn’t mean he feels the same way you do. Bruce has so few friends–his only two are, in fact, you and Alfred–that you know he opened up simply because he could. Bruce needed a friend, a confidant, a partner. You were able to give him that. That’s all. 

You stare at Alfred then, resigned, climb up over Bruce to sit by his head. 

“How about a scalp massage?” you ask Bruce. “Because apparently it makes you feel calmer.” 

Alfred chuckles. “His mother used to do that. Rub his head to get him to sleep or to get him to calm down when he was upset.” The older man softens as he stares down at Bruce. 

Something inside you melts. You reach a slightly trembling hand out and run it over Bruce’s head. You feel for a moment like you’re taking advantage of him. You never get to touch him like this, to simply watch him, and you relish it. 

“Here,” Alfred says, handing out a small package. “For the black around his eyes.” 

You take a wipe with your free hand and gently rub at the makeup on Bruce’s face. Both of his arms jerk against the restraints at that first touch. He starts panting hard again. 

“The blood–” he says with a pained moan. “The blood–” 

“There’s no blood, Bruce,” you say. Each touch is careful, gentle. “Everyone’s alright.” 

But he keeps yanking at the restraints. His wrists underneath his long sleeve shirt are turning redder and redder with each movement. 

“I couldn’t save them,” Bruce says around a small sob. He stares at you but you don’t think he actually can see you. “It’s my fault. I couldn’t save them.” 

“Save who?” you ask with one final swipe of the wipe over his eyes. 

“My parents. Alfred.” A tear slips over his cheek. “You.” 

“Alfred and I are alive, Bruce,” you say as you sit back on your heels on the bed. You carefully reach over and tug each of his sleeves over his wrist underneath the handcuffs. 

But Bruce doesn’t hear. “Stop!” he shouts at an unseen foe. “Don’t hurt them!” 

His sleeves have ridden up again, exposing his wrists to the handcuffs. You can see a small bit of blood on the wrist closest to you. 

Alfred hands out a bandage. “This should help.” 

You each bandage a wrist even as Bruce continues struggling. His pleas fade to pained noises that rip your heart out each time. 

“We should give him more of the sedative,” Alfred says. He rubs a hand over his face tiredly. “Where are the autopsy records? Maybe I can find out what this drug contains and see if there’s anything we can safely give him.” 

“They’re all at my workstation downstairs.” 

“I’ll be right back,” Alfred says. He hurries off, his limp even more pronounced now. 

Bruce continues straining against the handcuffs. His face is red with effort, his chest still heaving, the veins on his neck sticking out. He brings his knees up and leverages himself so his back smashes against the headboard. It creaks and groans. 

Whatever Alfred gave him must not have been enough. He’s just as frantic as he was before. Except now he’s trying to break his wrists and the headboard at the same time. 

“Stop that,” you say calmly even as your heart pounds. You wouldn’t put it past Bruce to snap the entire thing trying to get free. You run your fingers through his hair again. He immediately settles somewhat, his tugs on the handcuffs slightly easier. 

You decide to use both hands and give him the promised scalp massage. The longer your fingers work through the tangles, the more he seems to relax. You glance at the small device on his finger. His heart rate is still too high, but it lowers slightly at your prolonged touch. It’ll have to be good enough, you decide. Anything to keep his heart from giving out. 

When you look back up, Bruce is staring into your eyes. 

“I thought–I couldn’t be afraid anymore,” he says quietly. He seems more lucid now. Maybe the dose wasn’t that strong. You silently pray to all the gods and entities that might listen that it’ll be over soon. “But seeing you die–” His breath catches in his chest. “I couldn’t save you.” 

“I’m here,” you say. You wish you could take his fear and pain away, but there’s nothing else you can do. “I didn’t die.” 

Bruce makes a noise in his throat that you can’t comprehend. “It’s my–worst nightmare.” His eyes close. He grimaces. 

You keep trying to sooth him with your fingers in his hair. “You’re hallucinating, Bruce,” you say. “I don’t know if you’re able to tell what’s real right now, but all the bad things? Those are hallucinations.” 

“You’re real,” he murmurs softly. His body is a lot more relaxed. 

“Yes,” you say. “I’m here. I’m real.” 

Alfred bursts back into the room, laptop tucked under his arms. “I think we can give him more.” 

“Are you sure it’s safe?” 

“No, but if this doesn’t work…He’ll need an ambulance.” 

“He seems a lot calmer,” you say. Bruce’s eyes are still closed but he hums. “I don’t think the dose was very strong. He probably took the guy by surprise.” 

Alfred injects something into the IV, and Bruce’s body goes slack after a few moments. Alfred checks his pulse and blood pressure for several quiet moments, watching each of them improve slightly minute by minute. 

“That should do it,” Alfred says. He brushes a hand over his salt and pepper beard. “You can go on to bed, my dear.” 

“No, I’ll–I’ll stay, keep an eye on him. You go.” You expect him to argue, but Alfred nods and leaves you alone with Bruce. 

Now that things are calm, all of your fear and adrenaline start to fade. Bruce isn’t completely out of the woods yet, but he’ll make it. You think.

You think back to the surveillance video you saw. Dr. Crane was likely experimenting on the woman who died when Bruce showed up–and used whatever drug he had leftover on him. So it was likely it hadn’t been a full dose, especially with the way he seemed to calm down some. 

It was lucky. Extremely lucky. You think about the way the force of chance, of luck, has worked in your life so far, and can’t discount this instance either. 

When Bruce wakes up, you’ll give him all of the evidence he needs to get Dr. Crane arrested. You’d call Gordon now, but it’s so late it’s early. It can all wait until you know for sure Bruce is going to be alright. 

Exhausted, you lean back against the pillows next to Bruce. You glance around and can’t help but laugh at the situation. Here you are, in the place you most want to be–in Bruce’s bed–in the least romantic way possible. You don’t even have permission to be here. Bruce will probably ask you to leave once he’s in his right mind again. 

You turn your head to watch Bruce sleep, your own eyes heavy. You want to undo the handcuffs, but you’re afraid he’ll wake up in a panic again. Better to leave them on just in case. 

Without meaning to, your breathing syncs with his. You watch his chest rise and fall and try to let the motion comfort you. You glance at the little device on his finger again and feel even better when you see that his heart rate has calmed significantly. It’s still a bit high, but it isn’t in dangerous territory anymore. 

You always knew being Batman was dangerous. You’ve seen him come back injured a thousand times. A couple of times he was half-dead. But something about this was worse. Maybe because it isn’t an actual injury–it’s his own mind fighting him. His worst nightmares come to life. Bruce is the strongest person you know and seeing him brought low is like…a physical blow. It was terrifying. Bruce had always seemed so…untouchable. Like a man who was never afraid. 

His fear is the most terrifying thing you’ve ever witnessed. 

Your eyes slip closed as you watch him breathe. His bed is startlingly comfortable. You half-expected Bruce with his martyr complex to sleep on a brick. But this bed…this bed is definitely the kind of bed a billionaire would own.

You wake with a jolt sometime later. 

Bruce is watching you. His breath catches and he lets out a long sigh. He closes his eyes and seems to gather himself. 

When his eyes open again a second later, they’re wet. 

“I thought you were dead.” His voice is rougher and lower than usual, like he’s been screaming. The sound of it scrapes over your skin like sandpaper. 

“I’m not,” you say, still struggling to shake off the cobwebs of sleep. The room is dim. You were pretty sure the lamps had both been on but now only one is lit–and you have a blanket over you now too. Alfred must have come in at some point. 

“I know, but–” He takes another deep breath. The handcuffs rattle as he shifts. “For a moment, I didn’t know if it was real.” 

“What did you see?” you ask slowly. You see the handcuff key sitting on the nightstand closest to you and grab it. 

Bruce shies away from you. “Don’t unlock me yet. I don’t–I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Bruce,” you say. You soften towards him. He’s scared again, but it’s different. You don’t know if it’s a leftover effect of the drug or if it's his propensity for self-flagellation, but he’s afraid of hurting you. “You won’t hurt me. You didn’t even hurt me when you were drugged. You protected me. Granted, it was from nothing, but…” You flash him a smile. He doesn’t return it. “Have you been awake long?” 

He ignores the joke and the question, eyes staring into the middle distance. “I saw…every variation possible of the people I love dying,” he finally says as you unlock the wrist closest to you. He groans quietly as he stretches the arm out. He must be in a lot of pain from having his arms lifted for so long, but he says nothing. “I saw myself killing you. Or I saw someone else hurting you because of me, to get to me. You kept getting hurt and I was always too late to stop it.” He’s breathing hard again. 

You can feel his breath on your face as you lean over him to unlock the other handcuff. 

He catches your wrist and keeps you close, staring up at you. His lashes are long and dark, his blue eyes bright as stars. He’s so beautiful it takes your breath away, even in his disheveled state. You still aren’t used to the sight of him. 

“Y/n, do you hear what I’m saying?” he says, voice almost anguished. 

And your brain finally catches up. 

I saw…every variation possible of the people I love dying. I saw myself killing you. Or someone else hurting you because of me, to get to me. 

You suddenly can’t breathe. People I love. 

“Bruce–” All the other words get caught behind his name. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and yet again you aren’t sure what he’s sorry for. “But seeing all of that–I couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to you without knowing…all of it. The way I feel about you. How badly I–” He shakes his head and presses his lips together. 

You want to pinch yourself. You’re still asleep, right? There’s no way in any universe that Bruce Wayne feels for you like you do for him. 

But he’s including you in the list of people he loves.

You’ve been silent for too long, still hovering over Bruce. His eyes shift away, a wall coming down behind them as he shuts himself off. 

“I just…wanted you to know. That’s all. I won’t mention it again.” There’s a slight pink tint to his cheeks. “It’s okay if you don’t…feel that way about me.” 

“Bruce,” you say again, softer this time. You sit back a little. “I–I’m sorry.” He deflates a little, rubbing one wrist absently. He still isn’t looking at you. “I’m not really good with words, but I want you to know I feel the same way about you.” His gaze snaps to yours. You can feel heat creeping up your neck to settle in your cheeks. “I was so scared last night. I thought–all the other victims we knew about had died and–I couldn’t handle it if you died, too. You are…so important to me.” Your voice catches slightly. 

He reaches for you, calloused hands soft as the touch of a butterfly wing against your cheek. 

“Please tell me this isn’t the drug,” he says after a long moment. 

You grin. “It isn’t. It makes you scared, remember? Are you scared now?” 

He smiles back. The sight of it steals your breath. “I’m terrified.” But his smile only grows wider.

You lean down, very slightly, going slowly so he has time to change his mind. Because it still doesn’t feel real, doesn’t feel possible.

But Bruce stretches his neck up and closes the gap between you. His lips brush yours and you feel a relief so complete you want to melt into the bed. His other hand comes up to join the first and he cradles your face like you’re something valuable, something breakable, something to be cherished. 

As his lips move against yours, your entire body seems to say, Ah, I’ve been waiting for this. 

His mouth parts slightly, an invitation that you quickly take. His hands are still careful against your face, but one of yours fists around his shirt. 

When you pull away, you smile at each other. 

“As much as I want to stay here like this,” you murmur with another kiss pressed quickly to his mouth, “I think we should get Gordon to arrest Dr. Crane as soon as possible.” 

Bruce sighs but nods. “You’re right.” 

“I usually am.” 

He laughs. “And maybe after that’s done with…we can talk more.” 

You can’t help but kiss him again. “Of course. We can talk and kiss.” 

Needless to say, it takes a long time for you and Bruce to get up to contact Gordon. 

#battinson x reader #battinson x you #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #batman x reader #batman x you #the batman #the batman 2022 #the batman x reader #the batma fanfic #fright #fright fic #bruce wayne #battinson

[altraviolet]

How do you find a character's 'voice'? I have no problem writing OCs, but when it comes to existing characters I get so anxious that I'm mischaracterizing them!

This is a great question! This is definitely something I struggle with sometimes. Here are some of the things I've done to try to keep characterization consistent:

watched a bunch of videos about characterization and the craft of writing

gone back to the canon and reread parts that featured the character you're trying to write

reduced the character to like, ONE descriptor, ONE "essence," if you will. JRO did a great job making very identifiable characters for us. although many of the initial characterizations are modified by the end of the comic, you can still use that "essence". I'll give an ex in a minute but after you identify that "essence," keep it in mind for your character when you write them

when writing from their POV, or from a close third narration (or heck second person talking to them), remember what the character knows. how did they get to the place they are now? what kinds of details in a room would they notice?

This is not all I've done but it would take me SO LONG to put together more points so we'll move on~!

Okay so for more details on the above:

The Essence Thing

I think Ultra Magnus is a really good example of this. We're introduced to him having a very specific outlook on life (we literally see through his eyes in one early panel, it's great). We understand him to be a VERY strict mech who adheres to the Autobot Law to the letter (semi-colon, actually, lol). We see him meticulously arrange and rearrange objects, we see him point out screws that are misaligned by 0.001% (paraphrase, I don't remember the exact wordage). All in all, it's really easy to understand in just a couple of words who he is. Meticulous to a fault. Rodimus distracts him by using bad grammar on purpose.

By the end of the comics, he's loosened up a little. And (SPOILERS for the end of the comics), Megatron telling him to abandon his armor and be true to himself is something he's receptive to. Whereas in the beginning he wore it as somewhat literal armor. And refused to smile.

So what have I done with my fic? Well, it's important to keep in mind that UM isn't going to change all his ways. He won't be as much of a stickler as before, because he's learned to have friends in some capacity, and that's loosened him up a little tiny bit. But he's going to retain that core trait of being really into keeping things neat and tidy. And, the UM that Megatron told to abandon his armor isn't the one that made the jump. So I assumed they had that convo later in their friendship. The TEG UM still has those organized traits (cuz it's funny), but he's not as bad as he used to be.

So hopefully that makes sense. Boil your character down to a trait or two and keep it in mind for everything.

Oh boy the asks are piling up so I'm gonna try to go a bit faster now.

What The Character Knows

Let's do a little thought experiment. Tailgate and Drift walk into a random Autobot bar. What does each mech notice?

If I said one of them quickly identifies friendly mechs and the other one identifies unfriendly mechs, can you tell which did which? Who notices the energon specials and who takes note of the weapons behind the bar? Which one will remember a time he went with his conjunx to a bar and didn't get in a fight? haha

Okay so you can probably guess the answers that I intended for the above! Drift had a hard past, then became a violent Decepticon. Tailgate was asleep for 6 million years and then woke up and befriended a ton of people and had Movie Nights and also some trauma but he never had to fight for his life like Drift did.

So, as you can see, what the character knows (which is informed by their past, their education, their belief systems, the friends they have, the enemies they have, etc) really impacts how they see the world. And you can use that to your advantage by trying to look through their eyes keeping in mind what they know.

Sorry I'm gonna have to end this here, but this is a great topic. I'll try to write more about character voice and POV in the future. If you want to poke me later about it here or on twitter, please do. I will get my thoughts together and also find the links to the videos I've watched :)

#ask #anonymous #character voice #characterization #writing advice #long post

[happy74827]

Can you make more Joe Goldberg? You did such aan amazing job on the first one that I NEED a second one. Just please consider. Thank. Love your fics btw 💖💖💖

Lily of the Valley

[Joe Goldberg x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Coffee might not be his favorite, but things can change when it involves a person like you.

WC: 659

Category: Fluff

Fortunately, I already had this small idea in mind for our lovely stalker man and this request really just put the icing on top of the cake. Hopefully it fulfills your needs 🙌 (also you’re too sweet… thank you so much for the kind words 💞)

『••✎••』

Coffee. The hard, hot, and bitter drink that is the reason many people get out of bed each day and the reason why some people stay up until the early hours of the morning. He never understood the appeal.

But that didn't mean he didn't enjoy the smell of coffee beans roasting, the smell of fresh ground beans being poured into a filter, and the smell of the finished product. He didn't understand how something so bitter and disgusting could have such a calming and comforting smell.

Joe had been sitting in a booth in a coffee shop for the past few hours, watching the world outside go by, sipping a small mug of tea, and his current read, "The Woman In The Window" by A.J Finn, in front of him. His eyes were trained on the people going by, not really taking much of anything in. He was on autopilot, a default setting he slipped into whenever his mind was full of something else.

It was only when a waitress with a short, black pixie cut walked over to his table that his eyes come back into focus, and his thoughts began to slow down. She didn't look like she belonged in a coffee shop. With a long, floral dress, combat boots, and a cardigan, she was far too pretty and too interesting to be serving lattes. She was a rose in a garden full of daisies, a peacock among chickens.

Then, like a snap to reality, the sound of his name pulled him away from her and onto… you. The whole reason he was here in the first place.

If he thought the waitress was a rose, you were a whole bouquet.

"Jonathan! Are you going to order anything, or are you just going to keep sitting there, scaring all our other employees?" You said a laugh in your voice.

He hadn't even noticed the waitress had already left, and now, you were standing by the table, holding a coffee pot.

Yeah, he needs to stop letting his thoughts take over.

"No, no, I was just, uh, reading."

"Reading a book, or reading her?" You said, cocking your head to the side, indicating the waitress who had moved on to another table.

"Reading the book."

"Mhm, sure." You said, not at all convinced. God, he just wanted to kiss the smirk off your face. Those pretty lipstick-covered lips moving against his.

You shook your head, smiling.

"You want a muffin… or something? On the house, since you're a regular and all."

He looked down at the book again, then back up at you. Unlike the waitress, you were dressed for work in a black, collared shirt tucked into black pants and a black apron tied around your waist.

It told him a lot about you, like the fact that you were a rule follower organized. The other waitress played confidence to stand out. You wanted to blend in, but still, he noticed.

How could he not notice you?

"Sure."

"Blueberry, right? Your usual."

"Yeah."

"Okay. I'll be back in a second."

You had just turned to leave before you spun on your heel and stopped.

"And, Jonathan,” you paused. "That book in your hands? Wonderful read."

As you walked away, he realized how his heart had started to beat faster, and he couldn't stop the grin on his face.

A bouquet? No, you were something far more rare and far more beautiful than that.

You were an orchid.

And when you returned with that perfectly shaped muffin and that award-winning smile, Joe decided this would be the last time he ever chased a woman. Because this one?

You?

It was as though you were a mix between all his past loves and yet someone entirely new.

You were that new orchid in the greenhouse, the lily of the valley, and he wanted to nurture you and make you grow.

It's time to stop blending in; he would bring you out to bloom.

#joe goldberg #joe goldberg x reader #joe goldberg/reader #joe goldberg x you #you netflix #you show #netflix you #joe goldberg x female!reader #love quinn #x reader #fanfic #reader #fanfiction #joe goldberg x yn #jonathan moore #jonathan moore x reader #you spoilers #you s4 #you s2 #penn badgley x reader #penn badgley #gossip girl #dan humphrey x reader #dan humphrey #rhys montrose #rhys montrose x reader #guinevere beck #fluff #mega fluff #joe goldberg fluff

[globalrebrand]

When You Deny Them

Third Years Part I: Vil, Leona

Warnings: None, not sfw, gn!reader, fluff

A/N: I'll do more of these for the other third years, hopefully.

Vil Schoenheit

With Vil, sex usually happens organically and by mutual invitation. A cuddling session will turn frisky, a scheduled encounter you both have been anticipating all day, (you and Vil are so busy you have to plan sex 😢 but it can still be sexy!)

Otherwise Vil goes off your cues. Touch his thigh and give him sultry look and he’s prepared to put you back in your place for "groping him so brazenly." Crawl into your shared bed and straddle him, or whisper in his ear how much you missed him. After some teasing, Vil will put aside most things to indulge you.

However he’s not used to you not giving him the green light. And Vil prefers you initiate because he likes to feel wanted, it's the ultimately a little ego boost for him. So what does he do when he’s horny but you’re not matching his energy or giving him the signal?

He doesn’t actively seduce you generally. The only times Vil initiates are on special occasions, your birthday, anniversary, etc, or when he’s trying to interrupt your plans so you stay in instead of going out without him.

However, if you keep turning down his advances he'll preen just like a peacock would, metaphorically spreading his tail feathers and flashing them at you.

Vil will put in a little more effort to get your attention. He'll lounge around in silk pajama with the shirt unbuttoned and recline in seductive poses.

He’ll even sneak up on you shirtless, lightly perspiring while wearing some running leggings that show off his toned ass and bulge and whisper in your ear that he's about to take a shower and how boring it would be without you.

If you wave him off he might spill something on you so you have to join him

If those attempts don't work, he'll up the ante. Vil will plan a romantic evening at home, hiring a private chef and serving a meal exclusively of known aphrodisiac foods and red wine. He'll turn on music the two of you can slow dance to on you patio over looking your beautifully maintained garden. Then he presents you with a new piece of jewelry or fancy watch. Hoping that is overtures will entice you. After all what a good partner he is! Spoiling you so.

And if that doesn't work...Vil’s not above playing the jealousy card to rile you.

If he's being subtle he'll post a thirst trap on magicam that will get a lot of attention, if he really wants to make you jealous he'll make sure you see other people fawning over him when you go to events. He hopes you'll get so worked up that you just drag him in to the bathroom and ride him. Pretty please, he won't beg. yet

Vil would never admit it, but he kind of loves then you play hard to get, telling him your busy and denying him, it only makes him all the more eager to finally get you back in his bed, or shower, wherever really since he can be so competitive, but... after a certain time the fun wears off and he has to get more forceful.

He does this by nudging you awake if you fell asleep after completing your nightly skincare routine and telling you that he has something that can ensure you have good dreams (his dick), but if you rebuff him yet again he’ll just shoot straight.

"Is something wrong my love? Have I not made my intentions clear enough? I want you...very badly."

If you tell him you're tired or over worked and thusly not in the mood, he pulls one last resort.

He schedules a vacation where he can have you all to himself.

Vil gets it you are both busy with your respective lives but you both have needs that neither of you are fulfilling with your current routine. If you work he’ll call your boss and tell them he’s taking you on vacation for a month and that if they have a problem with it that he can get you a better job with the snap of his fingers.

He picks an extremely romantic vacation in a gorgeous locale but there's really little point, Vil just wants to keep you in the hotel room.

"Isn't this wonderful, I have you all to myself little one." He'll coo while he curls his arms around you as you look out of a balcony over crystal waters. "Zero distractions. How about you make it up to me? You can start on your knees."

Leona Kingscholar

Sex with Leona is frequent and if it doesn't start as a natural part of how much time you spend napping and cuddling in bed, Leona initiates by telling you exactly what he wants you to do. Sometimes he's sweet and sultry about it, "pretty little herbivore, why don't you go ahead and get yourself off on my dick, yeah?" Other times he's straightforward. "Oi herbivore, get over here and ride me." Depends on his mood.

Regardless, Leona is a man with expectations about the sex he is "owed" in a relationship and if he’s not getting it he’ll be vocal about it. He's horny damn it! You're supposed to take care of that.

If you scold him for being grumpy towards you he’ll probably respond with something snarky like "sorry, I haven’t had my dick sucked in a week" And yes a week is all it takes to have leona protesting about sexual neglect and alienation of affection.

When it comes to you, Leona is absolutely shameless. He goes on the prowl, for you. Stalks you in your (shared) home during the day. He'll tug your undergarments down and grope at you or fondle you over your clothes. He will knock it off if you tell him to in a really firm tone that's not what you want right now, but then he’ll start demanding reasons why the two of you can’t drop everything and fuck in this hallway. The servants would just look the other way so there's really no harm in it, right? wrong

If he’s really desperate he’ll try to service you to entice you. A rare occurrence. You’ll wake up and he’ll be kissing the insides of you thighs and asking if you need him to do anything for you or complaining that he's hungry. Leona makes it very hard to turn him away, but if you have the strength to bat a pining Leona away from your spread thighs power to you.

In another bout of desperation for you, Leona will purposely arrange a situation where you catch him masturbating. On your bed, in the shower, hell even on a couch in a very high traffic area of your home. Shirt unbuttoned, cock out, looking completely unashamed as he asks, "You can help me with this can't you herbivore?"

He'll start walking in on you naked more than he already does to try and strike when you're vulnerable. And while normally Leona's a bit stingy with compliments, they suddenly become free flowing, if a not a little guilt tripping.

"So pretty, herbivore, and for what? Depriving me of this beautiful body. It's such a shame."

After a while Leona makes you a proposition. "If I beat you in chess, I get to do whatever I want with you." He won't take no for an answer (he's painfully stubborn) but the game really isn't fair considering how good Leona is at chess. When he inevitably wins he'll gloat and make sure you make if up to him. He won't tell you, but he really missed your routine intimacy.

"Finally, I can get what I need." Leona purrs as he pulls you into his chest, when you complain about his statement he adds, "Don't worry I'll take care of you too, but you have a lot to make up to me...now on the bed and spread 'em, be quick about it."

#twst wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #leona smut #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x reader #vil schoenheit smut #leona kingscholar smut #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #twst scenarios #twst imagines #vil smut

[winryrockbellwannabe]

✨ Getting my life together ✨

to be very honest, i've been feeling kinda awful this last couple of weeks, and i haven't been able to do anything but stress over exams and complain about my life. today this will end.

So here's a hopeful but realistic list of habit's I'll try to implement

����🏾‍♀️ 1: Im going to start working out again.

Not everyday at first, and i still have to understand if it works better for me to work out in the morning or at night. Ideally im going to rotate between: arms/abs workouts, youtube ballet classes (there's a youtuber that seems to have great adult ballet videos, and its a chill way for me to work out), and hopefully going on walks on fridays, since i have the morning off, when it's not raining.

🫗2 : Im going to do the dishes right after i use them

i dont even hate doing the dishes, i dont know how i accumulate so many shit. But i do, and then i have no clean dishes and that makes me not want to cook, and delay eating lunch and stuff like that. SO DO YOUR DISHES!!!

💊 3: im gonna go to the pharmacy to get my meds and actually take them

self explanatory, ive been super anxious about taking my adhd meds, since im going to try to take a more intense dose than im used to, and i was a bit scared bc of side effects but my friend has already calmed me down a bit about it

🖋️ 4. Im goint to try to post more regularly and journal more

4.1. Post more regularly

It helps me get excited and motivated about studying, so self explanatory

4.2. Journalling

Everything is being so weird rn. My friends are acting so weird, two of them are basically ignoring me, and other two are acting super shitty towards me and another friend. It's super messy, and we don't know why everyone is being off, so i think i need to let all this negativity out of my system and reflect about this, and see if i could also be in the wrong in this situation

🧹 5. Im going to be more organized, and try to keep my room tidied

💖 6. Im going to try to spend more time with people that actually recharge my energy, instead of people that just stress me more and make me more upset

📜 7. Im going to try new places to study, since my usual ones haven't been working as well for me

and there's more to go, but i don't want to be too optimistic, Im going to be happy if I actually manage to keep half of those for more than a week lol

#studyblr #study blog #studyspo #stemblr #stem student #aj rambles #study goals #study blr #getting my shit together #getting my life together #student life #college student #studying #stem studyblr #adhd studyblr #adhd student

[exhaslo]

Kinktober Day 8- Reno x Bullied! Reader

        The Bookkeeping department; always forgotten by the other branches of Shinra. It was hilarious with how bad the Bookkeeping department was treated since it was the only thing helping Shinra run. If it weren't for this department then nothing would run in this damn city. Bookkeeping was so important; yet you felt like it was just an excuse to get yelled out by everyone.

        You tried your best to work quietly in your little cubicle. Most of your coworkers kept to themselves, it was just your boss and her little group that harassed you. All for something so dumb. You were being bullied just because you were friends with some of the Turks. More specifically Reno. You and Reno had been friends since you started working at Shinra. It wasn't like you planned on it, he was the one who kept approaching you.

        Hearing the loud clicks of heels, you flinched and quickly lowered your head. Your (e/c) orbs trying to find something on your computer important enough to distract you.

"Files these in alphabetical order," Your boss said as she and her groupies threw a pile of folders on your desk. Your eyes widen,

"T-This will take me all day! I have to submit last month's Turk expens-"

"Sounds like you're pulling overtime then."

        Your heart sank as you watched your horrible boss leave. No one ever offered to help. No one ever tried to stop her. You were just trapped in a cycle of pain and misery. The amount of times that you went home late or skipped meals because of work was starting to take a toll on your body.

--------

"Hiya, (y/n), how's it going on those reports?" Reno asked you, stopping by your cubicle during lunch, "Hm? Where's your food?"

"Can't eat. I have to work on all this paperwork...Hopefully, I have your reports done by the end of the day." You replied lowly. Reno glanced at your desk before looking around the large office,

"Everyone else is on lunch, but you."

"I was given extra work."

"Again?" He jumped over the cubicle, standing beside you now, "Why don't we go on vacation?" He offered. You could only glance up at him, forcing a smile,

"I can't afford to go on vacation. My hours haven't registered...So I can't..."

"Well judging by the bags under your eyes, you're all packed up and ready to go."

        Your lips rolled up into a smile as you laughed at him. Reno rubbed your head, enjoying the smile he finally brought to your face. He eyed the paperwork once more. Only you had to deal with all this shit. The hardest worker in this department, which was why he and Tseng trusted you to do the Turks finances. Upon hearing laugher, Reno furrowed his brows as he watched the Bookkeeping head-your boss, enter with most of the other workers.

"Oh! Reno! What a surprise!" She said with a high chirp. Reno ruffled your hair,

"I'll stop by later," He whispered to you before walking by the others, "Just checking on reports. Keep up the good work."

        You watched in awe as Reno cheerfully left with everyone in awe before him. He was so charming. If only you had the courage to tell him to find someone else to hang out with. You loved Reno, but he was the reason you were being bullied. Gripping one of the folders in your hand, you watched as your boss gave you a glare. There it was. You were not going home tonight. You just knew it.

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

        Your body leaned forward towards your desk as you tried to stay awake. It was reaching nine at night and you had finally finished organizing the paperwork your boss gave you. Now you just had to finish the finance report for the Turks. Your stomach growled, causing you to curl in pain. You had skipped lunch and when you were going to eat your lunch for dinner, it was soaked. You were starving, tired and ready to cry.

"Thought you'd still be here." Reno whispered as he appeared behind you. Your head leaned back, resting against his chest,

"Reno?"

"Who else?" Reno noticed your computer, "Meh, that paperwork can be turned in tomorrow. C'mon, let's go."

"I can't. Tseng trusted-"

"And I told Tseng that you got caught up with last minute paperwork,"

        Before you could protest, Reno lifted you up from your seat. You complained quietly as he dragged you farther away from your desk. Reno just chuckled lowly to himself. Finally, you gave into him and followed to where he was taking you. Your eyes widen as Reno took you to your supervisor's office, which was a floor right above everyone's. It was perfectly placed to watch everyone at their desks. You were confused and tried to get his attention.

"Huh? What's wrong?" Reno smirked as he opened the door to the office, "Oh, how fancy! This will do nicely!"

"Reno! What are we doing here?" You asked.

        Reno took you to the desk, clearing it off. He plopped you down, fixing the strands of hair on your face. Your cheeks started to burn as he stared directly into your eyes.

"Getting revenge on your shitty boss." He said with a smirk, leaning forward to kiss you, "Can't directly do anything to her yet, so why don't we have some fun instead?"

"Ah-Yet? Reno-"        

        You were at a loss for words. You weren't sure if you should bring up the kiss or his comment first. Reno kissed you again before you can try and formulate the thought. His hands stroking down your side. This was not happening. It couldn't be. You would have never thought that Reno's touch would be so gentle. So forward. Pressing your chest against his, you melted into his kiss. You had been dreaming of this.

        You parted your lips to breathe, but were caught by Reno once more. He spread your legs out, allowing him to lean into your body against the desk. You felt him slowly rub against your clothed cunt. Your body was starting to feel warm as the friction continued. Reno smiled into his kisses, his hands undoing each of your buttons of your shirt.

"Well, well, what do we have here? Such a cute bra you got on." His smirk only widen. You bit your lower lip,

"Reno...Do you like me? I, um..." You felt hesitant, "Is it okay for me to like you?" Your question made Reno laugh loudly,

"I wouldn't have gotten to know you otherwise. You're just my type and I hate the fact that everyone walks all over you," He undid your bra, soaking in your exposed tits, "But that will end soon enough."

"What do you mean?" You asked, but quickly muffled a moan as he started to play with your breasts. Reno stared into your eyes, loving the new sparkle you had,

"You'll find out soon enough, for now, let's make a mess of this office."

        You gasped as Reno took one of your nipples in his mouth. You arched backwards slightly, trembling from the feeling. Another whiny moan came out as you felt his hands slide under your shorts. His fingers toying with your sensitive bud. Tingles were firing through you body like fireworks. Never had you felt this good. Reno was making you feel so good. Shaking as your body started to burn, you felt a pool of heat forming. It was growing bigger the more he played with your clit.

"Re...Reno," You whimpered, holding onto his head as he went to attack the other nipple.

        You legs began to tremble as your pussy started to throb. Reno's fingers worked faster, making that pool of heat growing bigger by the second. Unable to hold out much longer, you cried out as you cam. Reno moved away from your chest, observing your face. You were catching your breathe. Reno could only chuckle as he watched you bite your lip as he dove his fingers into your throbbing hole. He entered two fingers, enjoying you clench onto them.

"Who needs R&R when I got you," Reno said with a grin, enjoying your blissed out face, "Ya know, Rude was placing a bet on you. He wanted to see if you'd make the first move."

"He did?" You asked before moaning once more as he curled his fingers.

"I didn't want him to win that bet," Reno used his other hand to slide you shorts down, "Besides, I don't think I was patient enough to wait for you to tell me you loved me,"

        You let out a whine as Reno removed his fingers. He undid his pants and stroked his cock before you. You laid against the desk, spreading you legs out for him. You were glad he decided to win that bet. Who knows when you were ever going to confess to him. You cried out as Reno started to push his cock into your pussy. It hurt at first, but he let you relax to his size once he was all the way in. You felt so full. Every time your pussy throbbed, you squirmed, wanting him to move.

"Now, now," Reno held your waist as he started to thrust his hips into yours, "We need to make a mess here, remember?"

        You were a moaning mess as your arms wrapped around Reno's shoulders. He was hitting you just right. His cock thrusting inside your folds with force each time. It sent jolts of pleasure throughout your body. Feeling that pool of heat return, you cried out another orgasm. Reno groaned softly, move you against the desk, dropping some stuff on the floor.

"Your shitty boss won't have any idea that she will be working on a desk covered in your juices," Reno laughed, "She won't know that we fucked in her office at all. Why don't we do it in her fancy chair next?"

"Mhpm, R-Reno~" You moaned as he kept pounding into you, not letting you rest from your high.

"She's got a couch here too. Maybe we can go there tomorrow," He smirked.

        Reno let out a small cuss as he felt himself getting close. He kissed you again before pulling out and cumming on your stomach. The two of you went to catch your breathe before Reno sat you up. He fixed your hair once more, taking a good look at your face. Kissing you again, Reno proceeded to fix your clothes.

"But that can wait for tomorrow. One day at a time for revenge, let's go back to my place and eat. I'm starving,"

"I'd like that," You replied, leaning onto him as he lifted you up from the desk, "So...about what you said before?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing much to it. Just going to make you our personal record keeper. We could always use another Turk," He said with a grin, making sure to leave the office door open, "Whoops-"

"Reno!" You huffed as he broke a flower vase that your boss liked, "She's going to know!"

"No she won't. Had the cameras shut off, why else did I fuck you in the office?"

        Your face turned bright red as you complained to him. Some friend he was! Unable to stop smiling, you grabbed Reno's hand, intertwining them. Yeah, Reno was a lousy friend, but he'd make a better boyfriend.

#kinktober #reno ff7 #reno of the turks #reno x reader #reno smut

[lizzyk137]

I'll Be There for You - A Spencer Reid Fanfic (Spencer Reid X Reader)

Description: You and Spencer had become friends since he moved into your building. Slowly you fell for him only for him to find someone else. Warnings: Mentions of- death, depression. Angst and jealousy.

Part Two! Want to read more, visit my Masterlist!

Perfection.

That's what you thought every time you saw your next-door neighbor. Pure perfection.

You knew who he was exactly. A FBI agent, part of the BAU, one of the greatest minds on the planet and he was your next-door neighbor.

He had just moved in a few months ago and ever since then, you'd catch yourself looking through your windows to see him walking off the bus and then running to the door to hear him walk up the stairs, only to open your door just as he was fumbling with his keys to do some mysterious tasks just so you could talk to him.

The first time you ever saw him was when he was unloading his stuff out of a moving van with a few friends, who you've come to know were his co-workers and practically his family. You were pulling up on your bike after a quick morning ride, to see the most gorgeous man turn to look at you as you braked the closer you got.

"Hello!" A cheerful blonde called out as you locked your bike near the entrance of your apartment building.

"Hi!" You had said quietly, suddenly getting nervous as four people, including the supermodel of a man, turned to look at you. You felt like they were looking you all over, analyzing you, which you had come to find out that they naturally do to everyone since it's their job.

"I'm Penelope! This is my friend Spencer; he's moving into the building!" The blonde said with the biggest smile plastered on her face. She was bubbly and confident which made you nervous since you were neither of those things.

"I'm Y/n, I live in 13B. It's nice to meet you." You briefly made eye contact with Spencer's sunglasses covered eyes before looking back down at your hands nervously.

"Did you know in most cultures 13 is considered an unlucky number and the bringer of bad luck? Most buildings skip the 13th floor entirely and most places don't number a house or apartment as the number 13 since it could bring bad luck to the area?" Spencer stated, looking at you.

"Um, I did know that actually. 13 is one of my favourite numbers and I also own a black cat too. So hopefully you don't have to be my neighbor." You chuckled trying to make a joke. The others laughed but Spencer just stood there looking at you.

"Actually, my apartment is number 11, and with how the building is organized with odd numbers on the left and even numbers on the right, I am more than likely your neighbor. Plus, I also don't believe in superstitions since there is no scientific proof that they harbor any bad luck."

You nodded. "Oh... well, um did you guys need any help with your stuff?" You motioned with your head to the van filled with boxes labeled books. "There is a service elevator just on the other side of the building that we can use to bring in the larger stuff."

"Thanks, that would be a big help." A handsome-looking gentleman said. "The name's Morgan." He said winking at you.

A dark-haired woman shook her head at Morgan, then said, "Why don't we pull out what we can and do an assembly line to the apartment then we can use the elevator for the larger furniture?"

"Sounds good!" Penelope said and everyone broke away from the huddle to start pulling boxes out.

After that day, the apartment next to yours was quiet. The front door never opened or closed, and you worried that your new neighbor was dead. Worried after the fifth day of not hearing anything you knocked on the door to no reply.

You had called your landlord and asked him if the next door was vacant since you were certain that no living soul was in there. He said Spencer was still renting and gave you his number to call.

You sent out a text two days later, hoping that he wasn't dead next door.

'Hi, this is Y/N from unlucky apartment 13. I just wanted to make sure you were okay since there's been no noise for the past week. I hope my bad luck didn't reach you!'

You tried keeping it light and friendly, hoping that your worrying didn't lead to the real thing happening.

You received a reply a day later to your surprise and relief.

'Hi, unlucky number thirteen. No, the bad luck has not caught up with me. I've been away on a case and have yet to be home. Thanks for checking up on me!'

You chuckled at the message and from then on you and Spencer exchanged texts every hour cracking small jokes.

It wasn't until you heard the keys jingle outside the door a few days later that you bolted out of your window seat and opened the door to find an exhausted Spencer trying to unlock his door.

He was so tired he didn't even realize you had been standing there watching him struggle for a few minutes until you cleared your throat making him jump, dropping his keys in the process.

You reached down to pick them up, and your hair flipped out of your face giving him the best view to see your beautiful smile light up your face as you handed him his keys back. He cleared his throat, hoping his face wasn't red even though it felt like it was burning. "Thanks." He mumbled and opened the door quickly only for it to open a foot.

Inside you could see boxes piled up blocking any sort of passage through.

Spencer tried to shimmy his way in but eventually had to put his back to the door, bracing himself as he pushed it open with his body.

"Did you want any help unpacking?" You ask chuckling as the maze of boxes piled up.

Spencer tilted his head to look at you then let out a tired breath. "Honestly, I'd love that, but I'm exhausted. I haven't slept in the past couple of days. If the offer still stands in the next couple of days, I'll take you up on it." He put on a small smile for you to show he appreciated your offer.

You nodded lightly, "Let me know when you're all set, I'd be more than glad to set a few hours aside to help you!"

And he did let you know a few days later. You heard a soft knock on the door and could hear him pace back and forth for a second while you pulled a blanket over your thin tank top and short shorts.

"Spencer?" You said surprised as you pulled open the door to reveal a very nervous man.

He wiped his hands on his pants and cleared his throat. "Does the offer still stand to help unpack? I tried unpacking myself and it is not going that well." His voice was barely a whisper at the end, and you ended up laughing a bit at how nervous he was.

He gulped at the sight of you laughing at what he said, hoping he didn't seem inadequate at something so simple as packing.

"I told you the offer would still stand so there is no need to be nervous, plus packing always goes better when you do it with someone. " You chuckled and closed your apartment door behind him.

He didn't move from where he was, so you ended up knocking into him a little bit. "Whoops, sorry!" You said trying to take a step back but there was nowhere to go with how close Spencer was to you.

He just continued to stare at you and then cleared his throat taking a step back. He headed back to his apartment as you followed behind in your fuzzy slippers. He opened the door as much as he could and held it open for you to shimmy inside. Your chest moving as you nudged your way inside made his face instantly heat up and his eyes go wide as he tore his eyes away from your thin top.

'Get it together Spencer. She's helping you out, it's not time to check her out.' He thought to himself shaking his head as the image flashed back into his head.

"So where do you want to start?" Your voice rang out to him, making the thought of your chest disappear.

"Um," his voice cracked a bit as he tried to control it, "I think we should start in the kitchen since it has the most breakable stuff."

He led the way to the kitchen and you both started tearing through boxes and pulling out items, asking him where he would want things to which he was clueless on what would go better where so he left it up to you. In fact, he left every part of his house up to you on how it should be arranged. He just followed your orders and moved items to where they needed to go, his face turning bright red when you'd catch him staring at you making you blush slightly.

After that, Spencer and you became close friends and frequented each other's apartments often for movie night, to play games, to talk or just to read each other's massive collection of books. After a while, you both had a key to each other's house and you'd often find Spencer in your reading corner, which you had put a special chair just for him in, and he would find you making something delicious in his kitchen as you sang along to some k-pop song off-key.

You both grew to be best friends, closer than he and JJ were, and he'd often take you to team functions as his plus one. You were slowly falling in love with the tall nerdy genius, and you thought he felt the same way until one day he mentioned a girl that he was talking to.

Maeve.

Movie nights turned into Maeve nights. Nightly walks were only to phone booths where you would sit outside on the curb waiting for Spencer to be done, and weekly bookstore trips were only to look for a book Maeve suggested in her nightly phone calls.

Soon everything you once did together started going away and Spencer wasn't the same guy you first fell for.

You'd make him dinners for when he'd come back home from cases only for none of it to be touched. Books you bought that you knew he was waiting to be released would be left untouched and piling up on the table by the door.

The team would fill you in and let you know he was okay at least once a week since you never saw or heard from him anymore.

Sure, you were happy that Spencer found someone, it broke your heart that it wasn't you, but you were still happy for your friend. But soon, Spencer didn't want your company as he used to want it. Everything slowly was crumbling, and you were left in the dark from him.

It lasted for ten months before it all stopped. No noise, no movement, not even a breath was heard in the apartment next to yours. The team would come by, and he wouldn't open up his door to any of them.

Maeve died and Spencer was broken.

It lasted like that for months. You tried not to linger by his door on your way to and from work. You tried not to care too deeply for someone that dropped you months ago. You tried your hardest not to think about Spencer Reid. And it almost worked.

You were putting on your heels for a night out with the girls. In the last few months, the girls of the BAU team became super close even with Emily flying in every so often to meet up. Penelope had suggested a girl's night out with dinner, drinking and dancing. The three D's as she liked to call it. And for someone lucky they got the fourth D at the end of the night, and in PG terms she called it dessert.

Looking into the mirror, you looked back at yourself checking every part of your outfit over. A tight, sparkly black over the shoulder sleeved mini dress with black strappy heels. You had gone all out on your makeup, something one of your friends from college taught you how to do to get extra money on the weekends, and you had curled your hair in loose waves.

You sighed, fidgeting with the hem of your dress, a bit uncomfortable with how much skin was showing. You had been slowly building your confidence up the last few months you spent with Spencer since he showed you that it was okay to be you and that you didn't have to hide it, and you were trying to keep building confidence up even though he wasn't there anymore.

Your phone buzzed and you saw that it was Penelope messaging you that they were there. Grabbing your bag and stuffing your phone inside you headed out and stopped to look at Spencer's door, littered with baskets of self-care stuff and dead flowers. You missed him, but the door was a reflection of what he wanted, to close everyone out and drown out the world.

Dinner went by in a flash, full of laughter and drinks, and you were headed to the club when Penelope shrieked besides you.

"You okay, hun?" You asked chuckling at the girl next to you that was practically hyperventilating.

Instead of giving you an answer she just waved her phone around until JJ grabbed it and looked at what was pulled up. "Wow..." JJ mumbled. She showed you and Emily what seemed to be a picture. Emily blew it up and there all the guys from the BAU including Will were lined up on the wall dressed up in suits with stern expressions on their face.

"Daddy Morgan is looking so fine." Penelope whispered causing you to laugh loudly.

"Oh my god, is that Spencer?" Emily gasped.

All four of you leaned closer in to look at the line up of men. Morgan, Rossi, Hotch, Will and Spencer. Morgan had his best smolder on, Rossi did not look pleased to be there, Hotch looked tired, Will stood there like a deer in headlights and Spencer looked so tired that it broke your heart a little.

"I know, I know I said it was a girl's night but the boys were getting Spencer out of the house and at least out doing normal human things so I said they could tag along. Please don't be mad." Giving you her best pleading look.

"I think it's a good idea to get Spencer out of the house. Y/N is that okay with you?" JJ asked you concerned. She could see you tense up after Penelope said she invited them.

Nodding your head as a reply you looked back at the picture on Penelope's phone staring a hole into Spencer's digital self until you had to see the real thing.

You made it through the club's line quicker than expected, all thanks to Emily flirting with the female bouncer, and you headed inside, music blaring, to find the table the guys reserved for you. Emily could see you fidgeting with your bag, so she pulled you over to the bar and ordered a round of shots. "Liquid courage." She said as she handed you a glass. You ended up downing five shots and one mixed drink until Emily pulled you over to the table to drop your bags off to dance.

"Damn, princess, you are looking good." Morgan whistled to you, winking as you shrugged playfully.

"I see you girls are dressed up nicely, did we interrupt girls' night?" Rossi asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"Kind of, but we can still pull in our catch." Emily winked as she replied back.

Your eyed slowly drifted around the table as everyone engaged in conversations with each other until your eyes landed on Spencer who was staring at you with his jaw locked. You stared at each other for a few minutes before you felt a light touch on your shoulder. Looking up, you saw a handsome man smiling down at you.

"Hi, Y/N, right? I'm Jesse, we met at the bookstore last week."

"Oh, hi!" The table growing silent as they eyed the newcomer at the table, and you knew they were unintentionally profiling him. You could feel Spencer's eyes drilled into your back.

"I just saw you and was hoping it was you. I wanted to thank you for that book recommendation for my class! Surprisingly the sixth graders enjoyed it."

"I'm so glad to hear that! I read it to my class not too long ago and they loved it!"

Jesse nodded and looked up at the table. "Oh, I'm being rude. I'll leave ya be to your friends!"

"No, no! That's okay!" Penelope practically screamed out. "Y/N was looking for someone to dance with, if you want to dance." You swerved in your seat to give her a death glare before politely smiling back up at Jesse.

Jesse chuckled, "Um, if you want to dance, I'd like to accompany you." He extended his hand out and you gently took it letting him lead you to the dance floor.

Spencer scoffed, as he watched you two walked away. Rossi eyed him and shook his head. "What?" He asked the older man. "The guy was obviously into her. He was practically eyeing her body the entire time. And the excuse of coming over here to thank her for recommending a book! Lame."

"I never thought I'd hear Reid use the word lame before." Morgan muttered to Hotch.

"I thought the guy was nice. I see him come into the station to help out with the toy drives and I hear he helps out at all the shelters around town." Will commented causing Spencer to roll he eyes.

The table grew silent for a few minutes and the girls went off the dance, Will in tow, and Reid was left with three men who knew him the best looking at him.

Spencer took a sip of his water, trying not to let on that he was suddenly uncomfortable with all three men staring at him.

"I think we have a jealous Reid." Rossi finally said, breaking the silence.

Hotch laughed, "I think you're right. Maybe you should just tell her you like her."

Spencer shook his head confused and took another sip of his drink. "I just got out a relationship, which did not end well. How could I suddenly be jealous of her? She just met the guy for a second time."

All three men laughed at Spencer's remarks making him more puzzled at what they were saying.

Morgan cleared his throat, "No, not jealous of her in that way. Jealous of the guy she's with. As soon as she walked in you have been eyeing her, and when Jesse showed up you got mad at her for giving her attention to another guy. Even now your eyes have been following her around." Morgan explained.

"And don't say it's for her safety. She's quite safe surrounded by two fully trained agents and one police officer." Rossi chimed in.

"You like her, just tell her that." Hotch spoke up next, "What you had with Maeve was meaningful and real, but it was also mostly through a phone and there was so many secrets she kept from you. You should be with someone that you don't have to hide from. Someone that can be your best friend when you need it and is always there for you."

Spencer just nodded and turned his gaze towards you, watching as you drunkenly swayed your body to the music.

"Maybe I will, but I also don't know what to feel, and she means too much to me to use to figure out my own feelings." He starred at you as you laughed and danced. He was happy you were having fun, but he always wished his arms were wrapped around you as you both danced the night away.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid #reid #reid x reader #reid x you #spencer reid scenarios #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #re

[z0mbi3k1d]

Romanticizing life Part 3

Studying ＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Take cute notes!! 🩰

Even if you don't wanna take cute notes at least make sure your hand writing is nice and legible. Mine isn't and I'm not saying that in a 'quirky' way like, no my hand writing is terrible lol. But I try my best to make my handwriting legible at least so I can read it later

Color code! 🍰

Colors and separating written things into colors is better for you to organize and inspect your notes

How to make your notes cute 💌

Highlighters

Colored pens

Stickers

Sticky notes

Focus 🌷

First find out your distractions and what distracts you then avoid/seperate yourself from it (I have little advice for this bc I'm reallyyy bad at it 😖)

Only listen to music if it helps you!! If you know it doesn't then don't listen, for me some songs help me focus better than others

Stay off your phone!! It does distract you, stop scrolling through Pinterest and liking Post's on Tumblr!! Put it downnn 😾

Additional advice 🎀

Blue helps you remember

Re-read the notes as soon as you get home, it helps remember them better

Brain food! Nuts/mints/blueberries/dark chocolate even coffee!

Chew the same flavor of gum when you studied on the test it helps you remember

Flash cards and diagrams! Those are the best ways

Take breaks, seriously!

Keep a planner and write down all your assignments there and plan on when to study

Upcoming Post's 🌸

Notespo (literally in like 30 mins)

How to get shoujo spring girl aesthetic (hopefully I'll get that in tomorrow) (rq)

Thanks for reading! 🩷

I love you all so so sooooooo much make sure to stay healthy and happy my little angels!!

Also thank you ll so much for 174 follows!! Xoxo!! 🩷

#studyspo #study motivation #aesthetic #girlblogger #just girly things #girl blogger #dream girl #girlblogging #girlhood #girly advice #manic pixie dream girl #girly #becoming that girl #becoming her #it girl mentality #it girl #this is a girlblog #girlblog aesthetic #girlblog #girl blog aesthetic #girl hood #femcel #pink pilates princess #pink pilates girl #pink academia princess #princess blog #lacey's angels #angel girl #self care #student

[ohlawdthebirds]

Truth or Dare (Vi x Reader)

Euughh, its been a while since I've posted a fic. Enjoy! This is a modern au inspired by those Cut 'truth or drink' videos.

Cw: Mild mention of drinking (swapped out the alc for juice, so hopefully that's not a trigger for anyone). Other than that, slight violence mention.

Also! Thank you to @pixievi for these links!

Gonna tag a few of my mutuals here because I think they'd enjoy this (I hope that's okay! Please let me know if not and I'll remove you from the list!): @sweetercalypso @xthescarletbitch @vvynia @kittyt-hexxed @ellsss

“So, do you know why you’re here?”

You can just barely make out the person standing behind the camera. The build of the camera blocks off most of their face and for a moment it creeps you out; being in this sterile warehouse, sitting at a table with your best friend across from you has you briefly wondering just what Vi is cooking up. The two of you often joked about being put in Saw traps but you weren’t entirely sure you’d be willing to part with your organs and appendages should the occasion call for it.

“Ah, I think so,” you say. Vi turns to you, gently nudging your foot under the table. You recognize the gesture immediately: it was something the two of you did when you were younger and wanted to check in on the other. In this case, the nudge meant Are you okay? We can go if you need to. You nudge her foot back twice, your way of saying I’m okay.

“I’m here to do truth or drink, best friends edition. At least, that’s what she told me,” You reply, gesturing at Vi. She ducks her head, cheeks visibly coloring. The person behind the camera, someone you now suspected was the producer, speaks up once more.

“Okay then, you two can get started with a shot if you want.”

Vi grabs an unlabeled bottle and fills up both shot glasses before nudging yours towards your awaiting fingers. You bring the glass up, clinking it with Vi’s, before bringing it to your mouth. You are surprised when sweet juice instead of alcohol hits your tongue. Vi peeks out at you from under her fringe, a gentle smile gracing her lips. She knew you were trying to cut back on your alcohol intake, so knowing that she asked for an alternative warmed your heart. Vi sets her shot glass down and reaches out to the middle of the table, selecting a card from the stack. She leans back in her seat, huffing out a soft laugh.

“How did we meet?” She places the card down and looks at you expectantly. You grin, sitting up straighter in your seat.

“Okay so we went to the same high school, right? Vi had an…interesting haircut,” Vi barks out a laugh at this while you try (and fail) to suppress your chuckling, “Yeah, it was like…like someone threw scissors at her head and hoped for the best. It was like the unholy merging of a slick back, a pixie cut, and a fuck ass bob.” You barely finish your sentence as laughter wracks your body. Vi’s bark turns into a howl that you soon join. As soon as your laughter dies down, you continue, “This group of boys came up to her during lunch one day and were making fun of her. I stepped in and was telling them to leave her alone when she jumps out of her seat and absolutely socks this guy in his face! He falls, his friends jump in to try and defend his honor, and next thing you know it’s me and her against these dudes. It was brutal I tell you. They lost and ended up transferring schools and Vi and I were sacked with in-school suspension for a week. It was glorious.”

You reach out to grab a card. “What is your favorite feature of mine? Can be physical or personality-wise,” you place the card down and sit back. Vi leans her elbows onto the table, eyes meeting yours. “You have gorgeous eyes,” she says, “They’re so expressive, and I love the way they light up whenever you’re happy or excited. It’s one of the things that drew me to you back in high school. You were so bright and fiery, and the way you jumped in to help me with no hesitation has always amazed me.”

Your hands come up to rest on your heated cheeks. She leans forward once more to select a card off the pile. “Didn’t expect you to do two of them,” you giggle out. Vi feigns shock, replying “Ah, my bad, didn’t even realize it.” But the glint in her eyes tells you she absolutely meant every word.

“What are my green flags?” Vi drops the card back down to the table. You fold your hands under your chin and lean against them.

“You’re one of the toughest people I’ve ever met. And I don’t just mean physically, I mean emotionally as well. You don’t let anyone tell you what to do, I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you genuinely scared. And it’s not like you don’t get scared, but you’re usually so on top of things, y’know?”

“Oh yeah, I’m definitely on top of things,” Vi smirks. You don’t bother holding back a grin. “But yeah, you make me want to be stronger. I want you to be able to rely on me the way I’m able to lean on you.” The blush on Vi’s cheeks only deepens. You lean forward once more to grab a card from the table.

“How good are you at kissing?” This time you don’t fully put the card down, instead twiddling and fidgeting with it. Vi chews on her bottom lip for a second before her eyes lock with yours. You expect to see her signature smirk on her face once again, but you’re surprised by the sincerity in her eyes. Vi thinks for a moment before reaching over to the bottles and pouring herself a shot. Your eyes widen with mirth.

“Oh, not going to tell me?” you grin.

Vi pauses for a moment before looking at you over the top of her shot glass. “You can always find out for yourself, you know,” she says before knocking back the drink. You gape at her, astonished, and not for the first time you wonder what Vi’s lips would feel like on yours. It’s been a reoccurring thought ever since high school, one that you’d tried to brush off time and time again. Years of friendship between the two of you had culminated in you developing an intense crush on Vi. There were numerous moments over the years where you thought about confessing to her, but something always stopped you. Whether it was you fearing the potential end of your friendship, or someone literally interrupting you, you were never able to tell Vi how you truly felt.

“Alright, so as you can see, there is only one card left on the table. Vi, that one is yours. Make sure you read it out loud and clear, okay?” The producer chirps out. Vi tenses before reaching out and sliding the card to herself. She pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath before flipping it over.

“I, um…so, this last card is daring me to tell you the real reason you’re here.” You quirk an eyebrow. Vi continues, “I didn’t bring you here just because you’re my best friend.”

Your heartbeat picks up and for a moment you worry it will pound right out of your chest.

“I brought you here to tell you…that I have a crush on you,” Vi said, her lips curving into a sheepish grin. For a moment, the world goes still, and you wonder if you’re dreaming. You cough out a “What?”, eyes fixated on the woman in front of you. “You have a crush on me?”

Vi nods. “Ever since that day in high school you’ve been it for me. I know this has been a long time coming, but I could never find the right time to tell you.”

“I could never find the right time to tell you!” You exclaim. “All this time, all these years, you mean to tell me we were both crushing on each other?”

Your hands cover your face as you let out a groan that soon evaporates into a laugh. Vi joins you with a laugh of her own. The absurdity of it all is hilarious to you: of the woman you’ve been crushing on for years not only reciprocating your feelings but going to the trouble of dragging you into a video to confess said feelings.

Once your laughter has subsided, you and Vi are left gazing at each other. “Well, at least we finally know we’re on the same page,” she says. You nod, attempting (and failing) to hold back a grin.

“Alright, so you guys clearly feel the same for each other!” The producer says. You hear the mischief in their voice and brace yourself for what’s coming. “You guys should definitely seal the deal, y’know?”

“H-how do you suppose we do that?” You stutter out.

“You could always seal things with a kiss!”

The heat on your cheeks only flares hotter. Vi’s own face is searing by this point. There’s no way you could kiss her! And in front of a camera no less! But at the same time you wonder if this is the only chance you have, if the adrenaline coursing through you was enough to propel you forward. Just when you were internally making a pros and cons list (the pro being to kiss your best friend and the con being potential ridicule from internet strangers) Vi nudges your foot under the table. Are you okay with this?

Only a moment later do you nudge back twice: I’m okay with it. I’m really okay with it.

With a surge of courage, you sit up in your seat and lean forward. Vi follows suit, meeting you in the middle of the table. It only takes a moment for your lips to meet.

You grin into the kiss, tilting your head just the slightest to deepen it. Vi’s hand comes up to cup your cheek. Your hand reaches up to rest on it and it’s only when the producer and crew begin clapping and cheering do the two of you separate.

The two of you are beaming harder than you thought possible, and everything feels limitless. Despite having no alcohol in your system, you feel fuzzy and warm. Vi sneaks in one last peck to your lips before you sit down. Once things calm down and you’re seated the producer speaks up one last time.

“We actually have one bonus card for you two.” A crew member steps forward and lays a card down in front of Vi. Her brows furrow in confusion but she picks it up nonetheless and reads it. A tiny smile graces her lips as she sets the card down, reaching across the table to place her hands on yours. “Will you go on a date with me?”

You gently clasp your hands with hers, bringing them up to place a kiss on the backs of them. “I’d love to go on a date with you, Vi.”

-

A few weeks after filming, you and Vi are notified that your video was live on the channel. You pull it up on your laptop and snuggle next to your girlfriend on her couch. Vi snorts and laughs the whole way through it while you hide behind your hands and join in her laughter. The comments are surprisingly wonderful, everything from people cooing over how cute the two of you are, to others lamenting over being single. Every last one of them brings a smile to your face. And as Vi keeps clicking through and pointing out the funniest ones, you lean into her side, pressing kisses to her skin.

“Hey love?”

“Yeah?” She asks.

“I’m really glad you brought us on a random YouTube video.”

Vi turns and presses a kiss to your lips.

“Me too.”

#arcane vi x reader #vi x reader #vi arcane #dude. you have no idea how long it took me to shake this fic out of my brain. good heavens.

[your-local-grubdog]

Pikmin 4: Heritage Theory

Warning for MAJOR Pikmin 4 spoilers, including: various end of day conversations, post-credit events, late game piklopedia and treasure hoard entries, and also the final boss.

As a sort of re-boot of the franchise, Pikmin 4 introduces a lot of new ideas to the series. Among them is the idea that the various alien species in the game are much more closely related than we first realized - and perhaps more connected to PNF-404 than we would have ever thought in the other three games. I wanted to go over the various texts in the game that touch on this idea and talk about them a little because, hoo boy, the IMPLICATIONS. I call it a theory in the title for a lack of better wording but it honestly just feels like a canon fact that's never directly stated. There's just that much evidence, much of which all but outright says what happened.

Apologies if the images are a little low quality, Tumblr crunched them up badly. I provide image descriptions so hopefully that makes up for it.

As this has many end game spoilers (which, final warning for those), I'm going to assume that anyone reading beyond this point knows the basics of the game's story, world, and characters. Thus I won't be explaining every last little thing.

Somewhat early on, Olimar makes the following observation in his Voyage Log:

[ALT ID: Olimar's Voyage Log, entry 60, "Lost Civilization": Some of the objects I call treasure seem to be more complex than they initially appear. It makes me wonder... who made these? And where are they? I don't sense their presence here at all, but I suppose they could be hiding in the shadows, secretly watching me. END ID]

This vaguely threatening entry does confirm that the characters, or at least Olimar, are aware that there was indeed a civilization on PNF-404 at some point. It should also be noted that the Japanese website includes notes from another character who is also aware of the ancient civilization, though the canonicity of it is debatable. I'll get back to that "they're in the shadows, watching" line in another post, as it presents its own can of worms. For now, what matters is that the characters are aware that this planet was once inhabited and Nintendo is drawing attention towards that.

Where this starts to get weird and interesting is with Olimar's Treasure Hoard entries on the Heroic Shield, Memory Fragment (Center Right), and Buddy Display. I can't show all of their text in just one screenshot and the pikipedia hasn't added every treasure note to the Pikmin 4 treasures as of writing, so I'll only be including the segments most related to this conversation.

[ALT ID 1: Treasure Hoard, Olimar's Notes, Heroic Shield (segment): That would mean these living beings must have looked something like us... I wonder who they were and what their faces looked like. Could they have been our ancestors who migrated through space to our planet long ago? (the treasure is a pin showing the helmet of a human-style spacesuit) END ID 1]

[ALT ID 2: Treasure Hoard, Olimar's Notes, Memory Fragment (Center Right) (segment): I'm amazed that such a similar species could exist in the far reaches of outer space. I've heard that organic components can travel through space on meteorites and comets. Could there be a connection between my planet and this one? (treasure is of a puzzle piece with part of a dog's face on it) END ID 2]

[ALT ID 3: Treasure Hoard, Olimar's Notes, Buddy Display (segment): I can't find any evidence of them in any of the existing creature databases. But there's something familiar about them. It's almost as if I've met them before... I guess I'll chalk it up to an ancient memory that's been imprinted on my genome. (treasure is a photograph of two earth dogs) END ID 3]

There is so much to unpack here alone. Olimar straight up theorizes that there may be a connection between PNF-404 and Hocotate, even going to far as to propose if maybe the people of PNF-404 (or at least the people who made the Heroic Shield) may be his ancient ancestors. He does also theorize that a meteorite may have carried "organic components", which is technically possible, but I'm not sure how that would occur in a way that carries said components from one non-destroyed planet to another and leading to creatures evolving in eerily similar ways. Honestly, I'll chalk that one up to an early theory of his, a red herring on Nintendo's part, and thus not something to think about too much. Especially sense, in the Buddy Display, he considers his ability to somewhat recognize Earth dogs as an "ancient memory... imprinted on my genome". While I'm not sure of the science behind such a claim, we also have to take this from a story telling perspective - which is that Nintendo is all but screaming "there is a connection here". Not just in relation to the aliens and the planets, but also in relation to the dogs.

Speaking of the dogs, Olimar's notes on the final boss of the game presents yet more evidence to a connection - this time focusing more on the connection between Earth dogs and space dogs.

[ALT ID 1: Piklopedia, Olimar's notes, Ancient Sirehound (segment): These results would indicate that 99.9 percent of the canine creature's DNA matches Oatchi's, and that the only difference between Oatchi and Moss may be the natural presence or absence of a leaf tail. END ID 1]

[ALT IDs 2 and 3, as one naturally leads into the other: Piklopedia, Olimar's notes, Ancient Sirehound (segment): If these two theories prove to be true, it would suggest the possibility that this ancient creature is a common ancestor to two canine species from vastly remote star systems. And that, perhaps, there are even more hidden secrets out there that could hint at a fascinating yet inconceivable truth the universe has yet to reveal... END IDs 2 AND 3]

I'm not sure what else to say here; the evidence speaks for itself. The Ancient Sirehound and Moss - both from PNF-404 - closely match the genetics of Oatchi, who is from an entirely different part of the universe. For the Sirehound to be genetically related to Oatchi, then members of the Sirehound's species would have had to leave PNF-404 and migrate to other planets. Their care takers - humans - would have had to go with them.

I also find it worth pointing out that the Sirehound's arena is filled with various human items, such as shoes and toys. It's honestly a little haunting to find them so deep in a dark cave, unused by humans for who knows how long. The ruined toys in particular really get to me. We don't know how old the Ancient Sirehound in particular is, but the idea that humans once hid in this cave from something or that their dog brought the items here for comfort is really depressing.

[ALT IDs: various hard-to-see images of the human items in question, including: pillows, pipes. gardening tools, a fork, adult sized shoes, baby sized shoes, various children's toys, and other objects I couldn't quite make out. All of them are either partly submerged in water or at the very edge of water, leaving them covered in mud. END IDs]

I think by now it's safe to say that, yes, humans left Earth with their dogs at some point in time. Yet there are still MORE pieces of evidence to suggest this idea, this time coming from Shepherd's family history. Because we really needed to be beat over the head with evidence, I suppose. All are presented in numerical order as shown in-game.

[ALT ID 1: Rescue Journal, Shepherd Family History, entry 1: Thanks to the technology that has come from space exploration, our lives have grown much easier and far safer, and on-planet rescue requests have decreased dramatically. But as migration into space continues to grow, our services continue to be needed. So I'm happy to announce we are extending our rescue services to the frontiers of space! Signed, Paniya Shepherd, 82nd Captain. END ID 1]

[ALT ID 2: Rescue Journal, Shepherd Family History, entry 2: We've done it at last! We have flown to space! Out in this great, limitless expanse, not a sound can be heard. And yet, I can still clearly hear the pounding of my own heartbeat. Space--how it overflows with possibilities! There can be no doubt. This is one giant leap forward for our kind. Signed, Ed Shepherd, 65th Captain. END ID 2]

[ALT ID 3: Rescue Journal, Shepherd Family History, entry 6: The Shepherd family has lived with dogs from the very beginning. We understand that if we love and respect these creatures as we do our own--if we pay attention and observe their behavior closely--then we can break down the walls between our species and truly understand one another. Signed, Kain Shepherd, 16th Captain. END ID 3]

[ALT ID 4: Rescue Journal, Shepherd Family History, entry 7: "Beyond the sky itself there lies a beautiful blue planet." Those words have been passed down from captain to captain, calling to each of us. I can't imagine what sort of place this blue planet might be, but it's said to be home to even more dogs and folks that we have here. One day, I hope to fly beyond the sky...and into space. Signed, Maris Shepherd, 7th Captain. END ID 4]

[ALT ID 5: Rescue Journal, Shepherd Family History, entry 8: Many years have passed since we first began to make this land our new home. Still, we need more time to complete our environmental adaptations. In the meantime, we must survive so that, one day, we can pass down this new history to our children, and pass down the ways we've learned to rescue and protect everyone. One day we will live here in peace. Signed, Mark Shepherd, 2nd Captain. END ID 5]

[ALT ID 6: Rescue Journal, Shepherd Family History, entry 9: The surface! We made it at last! Finally, we can begin making a fresh start here on this planet. Of course, it will take many long months and years before what we've built here will be anything like what we once had. But we won't be alone. Our beloved dogs will be by our side as we walk this long, difficult road. Signed, Aral Shepherd, 1st Captain. END ID 6]

There is so much here, all confirming that ancient Giyans (and Captain Shephard's direct ancestors) 1) migrated to this new planet in search of a "fresh start" and 2) proceeded to migrate to other parts of space many generations latter. It also hints that they know of a "blue planet" - a common nickname for Earth - which is home to more people and dogs. Most certainly, it is the planet they came from - making Giyans human, or at least an evolution of humanity, and perhaps all other alien races in Pikmin 4 (from Hocotations to Koppaites to Ohrians to Conohanins to anyone else from the twenty one named planets (excluding PNF-404) in the series) are also descendent from Giyans. It would explain why they all look so similar in game - though we can safely assume that Hocotations are at least descendent from Giyans based on Olimar's notes. Further more, the leafling cure requires cells from a non-leafified individual who is genetically similar to the individual in question. We're never told how Yonny gets these cells (and, given we're talking about Yonny, I'm too afraid to even ask) but the fact that the medicine works for anyone regardless of what their home planet is suggests that they are, in fact, more or less the same species.

How different the various aliens look from Humans is easily chalked up to evolution. We know minor changes in height could, theoretically, happen within just one or two generations spent on a planet with different gravity than Earth's. It would make sense that this would be exacerbated over many many more generations, especially if the gravity is much stronger. Which, to quote the Pikipedia, "According to Brittany, the gravity on Koppai is roughly ten times stronger than on PNF-404." Given their matching heights, it's probably safe to assume similar applies to the other planets, and thus over the generations the people shrunk. Again, the exact scientific validity of this is questionable, but given the semi-fantastical nature of Pikmin I believe we can suspend our disbelief enough to let this story work. We already have to do that for how the Pikmin as a species function, after all. As for oxygen becoming toxic in the 8th history entry Mark Shephard does state that "we need more time to complete our environmental adaptations". Be these natural or artificially induced (as he is only of the second generation), it is again safe to suspend our disbelief to say that humans just adapted to these new worlds. Besides, Koppaites at the very least retained (or possibly gained back?) the ability to tolerate at least low amounts of oxygen.

The real problems come in the time frame and the loss of history. It's never stated one way or the other if people are aware of their ultimate connections back to Giya, so I won't discuss that, but it is very obvious they have forgotten their connection to Earth/PNF-404. Furthermore, it's made clear that the Giyans lost the ability to travel through space by the 7th generation and only regained it by the 65th. If they had access to space flight, they would certainly have archives of their heritage - and they do indeed seem to have some idea of what it is, given how Earth has become a legend. Yet, the Shephard family history as far back as the migration to Giya was preserved - why not anything else? The inconsistencies and questions make this part of the tale hard for me to ignore, yet we have no answers. This is pure speculation, but if I had to provide an answer I think a solar flare hit Giya and destroyed their technology, making them start over. Perhaps these early Giyain-Humans were so reliant on technology at this point that there were no books or oral traditions to preserve this heritage lost when the tech was destroyed? Though, somehow, the Shephard family would have to be one of if not the exception to this. Again, the previous is pure speculation, but it's the best we can do for the time being.

There's also the question of when and how Earth dogs changed to look like the Sirehound, which would of had to happen before the migration to space given that Oatchi has the same body plan. And then why did Moss's species become so much smaller?

Still, even with all these plot holes, I think it's pretty damn clear that Nintendo intended for our favorite little aliens to be the evolutionary decedents of humans. How and if they'll use this plot point remains to be seen, but it does open up a whole bag of opportunities for the universe of Pikmin. One that, frankly, deserves to be explored.

#pikmin #pikmin 4 #pikmin theory #borb screams #THIS TOOK SO LONG TO MAKE AAAA #I am open to discussions and questions btw