On Break At Work And I Saw The Most Delicious Image On My Goddamn Pinterest Of A Man In Garter Stockings

Together

Despite the fact the two of you were of a completely different species, you could safely say that you and Polypa had one of the closest relationships you possibly could have. It was why she had followed you across the vacuum of space and time, through countless realities, and had somehow yet again found you. She was someone you treasured above all. In this reality, where cultures mixed and divided and fought, you tried your best to do what she needed. There were times as a moirail you felt quite helpless- and others you felt at your element. Gathering every pillow, blanket, and sheet in your house as you headed towards your room was one of those ‘in your element’ days. Tossing the blankets onto the floor you stripped your bed and proceeded to empty out the floor of your closet. After years of doing all this your closet floor was decidedly bare- a few shoes and boxes and some clothes that had slipped off their hangers. Polypa wouldn’t care about the mess stacked next to your bed- what would matter would be the inside of the closet. A warm enclosed space filled with the scent of you. The first layer was the fitted sheets, pinning them to the floor so they stretched out, this was important for the mess you’d both make later. The second layer was the couch cushions and then the thin sheets. An elevated platform so you weren’t sleeping on the literal floor. You’d learned the hard way that it would hurt your back to continuously do that. From there you draped the duvets over the entire mound before putting the more comfortable pillows down. By the time the entire thing was done it looked like a nest. Perhaps the closest thing you could create to a feels jam pile. Wiping off your hands you gave it one more look over before leaving your bedroom. She had said she’d be there soon- which for Polypa was as vague as either an hour or five minutes. Passing by the thermostat you turned the heat up slightly before continuing to the kitchen. Tossing the popcorn into the microwave you rooted around in the fridge for some sodas.

“What movies are we watching tonight?”

“Jesus!”

You jumped whipping around to find Polypa sitting on your counter. Giving you a mischievous grin she continued to wind her usual bandages around one of her legs.

“Well?” She asked after you had calmed down.

“We’re watching The Notebook and Where The Lovely Indigo Attempts To Start A Matespritship With A Cavalreaper Unaware That They Are The Moirail To Their Kismesis Who Wishes To Pursue A Red Relationship With Them.” You personally hated how long troll movie names were, always a mouthful that was more the synopsis of the movie than leaving anything to surprise. Then again you appreciated they were up front about the plot. Humming appreciatively Polypa tucked the remaining bandage away and hopped off the counter.

“Subbed or dubbed?”

“There’s options for both.”

“Good.”

“We’re watching The Notebook first.”

“Why?”

“Because your movie is four hours long.” You deadpanned earning an unrepentant grin.

“Well if that’s the case then we’re watching Alternian anime tonight too.”

“Troll Naruto?”

“Troll Guren Laagan.”

“I hate you.”

“Pale for you too.” She looked entirely too smug as she grabbed the popcorn, dumping it into the large olive green bowl you had out. She knew that the show always made you cry- even worse than the human Guren Laagan did. Following behind her with your drinks you couldn’t help but smile despite that. You’d both be crying by the time the credits rolled but at least you’d be enjoying the time spent together.

Just like you always did.

Am I excited for Shadow? Yell fucking yeah.

Am I ready to see how they handle his story, especially the possible loss of Maria? Absolutely fucking not.

@qu1nntastrophy

You

You are my people. You had me at realitrees and unhealthy mindfuckery. I want everything you possibly have on the realitybreak crew because I fucking LOVE this shit and AAAAA LOOK AT THE SPRITE EDITS I ADORE THEM

Please feel free to info dump on me. Toss me into the lore deep end. Give me the aus. My body is ready.

hi idk if you like to hear other peoples headcanons so if you dont pls ignore but i want to talk to SOMEONE about my silly purpleblood headcanon

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alright so; face paint. i dont particularly like the "every purpleblood is a clown" thing (but if you do then hell yeah go off love is real) as it kinda limits the character variety of that caste, but i DO like the face paint as a detail so ive settled with this: i headcanon that the face paint purples are prone to wear is not a Clown thing nor a Cult thing, but a cultural thing. all (or most) purplebloods wear a coat of face paint to symbolically conceal themselves. showing your bare face to someone youre not close/in a quadrant with is seen as a taboo in purpleblood cultures. additionally, letting a quadantmate/close friend see ones face is probably the biggest sign of trust a purple can do (depending on how they feel about the tradition). and having them HELP WASH IT OFF??? ough, now thats /tender/.

I need you to understand that I am ABSOLUTELY FERAL over this idea and it goes perfect with an older headcanon thing I did a while back

Here: https://www.tumblr.com/morsartis/639719797773549568/hey-your-writing-was-awesome-ive-just?source=share

AND LISTEN- LISTEN-

NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR SENDING ME YOUR OWN HEADCANONS I LOVE THAT SHIT.

God okay but like, the TENDERNESS??? Of washing off your big purples paint??? The damn SWEETNESS and TRUST of being allowed to help them apply it in the mornings???

NO ONE TOUCH ME IM NOT OKAY

EDIT: YES! Yes I love talking about other peoples headcanons! TALK TO ME ABOUT THE HEAD CANONS-

Hey it’s simp from your piece “Miss you”! I was wondering if u could make a pt2 of Marvus domming Y/n but like super sweet but rough? Or even just it being it’s own thing not even a continuation I rlly like ur writing! Could it be Like along the lines of ‘ne1 pail u dis good lil mama?’ ‘My cute lil mama makin all dem cute noises jus 4 me’. Like kinda possessive? Thank you!!! :o) <3haha

I'm not gonna lie I got carried away with this one. Probably one of my more explicit request fills as of now. Though I'm sure that'll change. This is a stand alone since Miss You was specifically requested to be gender neutral. I still hope you like it and thank you so much for enjoying my writing!

Rodimus x Professional!Reader Pt. 1

The first part is from Reader's POV and the second will be from Rodimus' POV.

Parts:

Part 2- https://www.tumblr.com/morsartis/712534482204377088/rodimus-x-professionalreader-pt-2?source=share

Part 3- https://www.tumblr.com/morsartis/712534804211662848/rodimus-x-professionalreader-pt-3?source=share

----

Hot water beat down on your back as you rested your head on the shower wall. Everything ached. From your toes to your scalp you felt like one massive bruise. It wasn’t uncommon for you to get back to your quarters feeling drained and tired. Ever since the Lost Light had taken on human crew members your hands had been full, especially following your commander's death. A day that still weighed something fierce on your heart. You’d had to step up- despite the fact that you hadn’t been next in line to lead at all. There had been too much panic, too much grief, and you had done what you had always done in the face of terrible personal tragedy and chaos. You’d buckled down and taken over. Somehow that had led to you being promoted as the human liaison to the captain of the Lost Light. It was an honor certainly but it was something you struggled with. All that responsibility on your shoulders, Commander Jameson had grown livid when the promotion had passed over him and went to you instead. His contempt and judgment was yet another thing that weighed you down. He made it clear that he had little to no respect for you or your new position. It had led to endless fights over the tiniest things that shouldn’t have been fights in the first place. 

Sighing heavily you blinked past the water running down your face. The need for actual running water on the Lost Light had been Commander Hennis’ first petition when you’d come aboard and after her death it had only been right for you to continue that petition. You were grateful for it. Slicking your hair back you took another moment to simply breathe. One deep breath in and then the slow exhale. Shutting off the spray you blindly reached for your towel. Wrapping the soft fluffy thing around yourself you relished its warmth as you stepped out of the tub and into the slightly cooler room. You cursed when you realized you’d left your sleep clothes on your bed. Stepping into the main portion of your room you froze, the blood draining from your face so quickly you almost felt light headed. Clutching the towel tightly to yourself you straightened up immediately. Shit, you were way too underdressed, your hair was still wet and tangled, you were wearing a towel. 

“Captain!” You resisted the urge to salute if only because you feared losing your towel. Rodimus froze, optics wide as he glanced down at you. Jesus, you could die of mortification. 

“I-,” His voicebox made an odd sound you could only describe as a radio dial, “I didn’t realize you were here.”

“I thought to get an early night, Sir.” Oh you just wanted to curl into a ball and die. This was so unprofessional. God, you even planned your own pajamas to be professional in case of an emergency. Why did he have to walk in now? Why did you forget your clothes on your bed? You glanced at your folded clothes and felt a new mortification rising when you realized you’d done like you usually did and placed your underwear on top. Your very nice, lacey, underwear that you rarely got the chance to wear and only decided to wear tonight to make yourself feel nice. As a secret little pick-me-up that only you would know about. The red stood out starkly against your grey sweats and space program t-shirt, the clothes far too professional to even consider what you might be wearing underneath. Even the sports bra you’d chosen was cute with its little lacey front and tiny decorative bow. As if sensing your mortification you could only observe in horror as Rodimus followed your gaze to the clothes you’d plainly laid out. If it were even possible it was as if he froze and locked up more than previously. 

Was- was he blushing?! 

Your face was officially on fire you were simply going to kill yourself. Anything to escape the mortification. Your co-captain, your liaison partner, knew what you were going to wear to bed and he’d been around human culture long enough to understand exactly why you might have been embarrassed. Grasping at straws like it was all you could do, you tried to regain control of the situation. 

“Ahem,” You cleared your throat drawing his attention back to you, “Was there a particular reason you were coming into my quarters Captain?” 

Rodimus straightened up quickly his grip on his holopad tightening. 

“Ah- yes. There was- well… Ahem. To be honest-,” He was stammering, god you were never going to live down the embarrassment, “I wanted your opinion on a transfer I’ve been considering.” 

“A transfer?”

“Yes. One of the humans here.”

That wiped the embarrassment straight from your system. Technically Rodimus could transfer whoever he wished at any point so long as Megatron signed off on said transfer. It had been an unspoken rule since Commander Hennis’ and since your own tenure that all human transfers were to be decided by the human liaison. For Rodimus to even consider transferring a human without giving the full reigns to you must have been serious. 

“May I ask the reason for transfer?”

“Insubordination.” The way he said it left little room to question. His voice was grave and serious in a way you rarely heard from your usually compassionate companion. Clearly this was not a decision he had made lightly. 

“And the crewmember?” You asked after a moment when it became clear he was not going to elaborate. 

“Commander Jameson.” 

“What?” You asked the question slipping out before you could help it. To say you were shocked was an understatement. You had thought that Commander Jameson had been wise enough to keep his displeasure and insubordination pointed towards you and you only. 

“I think it would be best for both the crew and for Commander Jameson himself if he were placed with a different vessel.” 

“My apologies then Captain, I had thought that Commander Jameson had merely been targeting me due to the promotional passover that occurred following Commander Hennis’ passing. I hadn’t a clue that he’d been lashing out towards other higher-ups. Please allow me to talk to him and discuss these matters, I shall ensure he keeps his issues with the chain of command solely with me.” 

“That’s the problem!” Rodimus shouted, waving his arm through the air. You jumped. “He shouldn’t be treating you that way in the first place! You received the promotion because you earned it. Your crew would have been killed if you hadn’t made the calls you did and kept a level head. While Commander Jameson was too busy trying to prove himself you were putting in the actual work. You brought your crew together, you led them into action, you pulled them through that dark time. Not him! I am tired of hearing his baseless complaints about your leadership. You’ve gone above and beyond what was expected of you for the sake of your human crew and your cybertronian companions!” 

You could feel the flush traveling from your cheeks all the way to your shoulders the flattery soothing a sore spot you had been nursing for a while now. But still, despite Jameson’s clear dislike of you, you had a duty to him as his superior. 

“I understand that Rodimus and I thank you for your conviction of my skills,” You replied soothingly, adjusting your hold on your towel, “However, I have a duty to my crew. Commander Jameson’s grievances are with me and me alone. Outside of that he has followed all his orders from other officers to a perfect T. Unless there are incidents I haven’t been informed of..?” You trailed off waiting for a reply. 

“... No. He’s followed orders from other crew members well enough.” Rodimus admitted begrudgingly. You offered him a sincerely sympathetic smile. 

“Then I owe him the chance to discuss options with me first before the call is made for him. If he wishes to transfer then I will be happy to have him transferred, but if he wishes to stay then that decision should be respected as well.”

That was clearly not what he wanted to hear. Rodimus’ expression turned stony, every bit the captain he had to be instead of the mech you had gotten to know. 

“Please let him know that if he fails to follow your direct orders again he will be transferred regardless.” His voice was cold, a sort of anger that sent chills down your spine. You’d never heard anything like it. From Megatron you might have been able to keep the surprise off your face but from Rodimus? The change was too intense not to show your shock. “I’ve transferred the documents to you for review. Good night.” 

Just like that he was gone leaving you standing there shivering from the cold in your towel wondering what had gotten into the normally sunny optimistic mech. Swallowing nervously you shuffled towards your pajamas and got dressed. Everything would have to wait until the morning but already anxiety was beginning to set in. What would you do about this? What could be done to fix it? If you didn’t know him so well by now you would have thought Rodimus was angry with you, but you knew that despite what had happened his anger was directed towards Jameson. With a deep breath you sat on your bed and tried to relax. You’d get this sorted out just like you always did. It would be fine. And then you could talk with Rodimus about why it had upset him the way it did.

Nightwing x Civilian!Reader

Warnings: None. Its fairly gen. No actual romance I just had this thought that made me laugh.

-

The sound of your living room window being forced open was what woke you. Heart hammering in your chest as your hand went to the baseball bat you kept tucked away by your bed. Years of living in Gotham had made you hypervigilant of what sounds your apartment made and where. You knew for a fact that your living room window had been locked and that the sound of snapping wood had to have been the frame being forced open. The window lock itself was flimsy and you had brought it up multiple times with the landlord only to be shrugged off. Now you weren’t sure whether to feel petrified or triumphant that your concerns had been justified. Throwing back the blankets you stood slowly and raised the bat as you began creeping towards the open bedroom door. Out in the hall everything was still pitch black and you cursed yourself for not at least checking the time on the alarm by your bed. Your late night intruder hadn’t bothered to close the window behind them and the pale light of the moon and soft glow of the streetlights below gave you just enough light to see. A figure had collapsed on your couch, a hand dangling from where it awkwardly cushioned a head. As you cautiously shuffled closer you could make out the reflective glow of blue along the fingers. Your poor heart nearly collapsed in relief when you realized it was Nightwing, the resident vigilante of Bludhaven. 

When you had moved to Bludhaven a year ago you had assumed it would involve a lot less vigilante sightings than Gotham. Looking down at the battered and bruised figure of Nightwing sprawled across your couch you had to admit, this officially made Bludhaven weirder than Gotham. If only because in your years of living in Gotham you had never had a run in with the resident gaggle of vigilantes. Taking in his sweat soaked and disheveled curls, the half curl of his body that suggested a good amount of pain, and the way he was actually too big to fit on your admittedly small futon with how his legs dangled off the other end you sighed. 

A bird was a bird you supposed, Gotham looked after its own and while you had abandoned your home for Bludhaven the Gothamite still inside of you insisted you had a duty to look after the local vigilante. Setting the bat against the back of the couch you walked gingerly towards the window to assess the damage. Like you feared the lock had been snapped in two and the sizable crack that ran along the wooden frame was enough to tell you it was busted. You’d be living with a busted open window for the next few weeks while you scrounged around for enough money to cover repairs. Not even bothering to close it and risk damaging it further, you turned back towards your uninvited houseguest to check his own damage. In the light cast from the window you could make out a dark purpling bruise along the side of his face spanning from his temple to his jaw. Wincing in sympathy you shuffled closer and began gently prodding at his ribs. When he didn’t immediately shoot up in pain you returned your attention to his face. His mask was still firmly in place and you were grateful for it. You did not want to get dragged into the nightly struggle. Hoping that the bruising along his face was the worst of his injuries you tried to think of what to do next. You did not want to know what or who had managed to do that to the man. Instead you reached over and began unfolding the blanket you kept on the back of the couch. His suit left little to the imagination and you didn’t think it had to be very warm in the night chill now that he wasn’t actively fighting for his life and the lives of others. You could admit that despite the fact he was injured he had a nice figure. But that wasn’t something you’d be bringing up. Like most people you’d seen and heard about Nightwing enough to know how the media loved to sexualize him. It had to be exhausting and you weren’t about to add to it. Gently laying the blanket over him you wondered if he’d been exhausted or simply lost consciousness. There was no way for you to check without waking him and you dreaded the thought enough you weren’t about to even attempt it. Scrubbing an exhausted hand over your face you turned towards the bathroom where you kept your medkit. Closing the door mostly behind you before flicking on the lights you caught sight of your haggard appearance. You were exhausted from work. The dark circles under your eyes were a badge and testament to your workload. You missed Gotham’s much cheaper rent. Back in Crime Alley you hadn’t had to work as much as you did now. Sure the area had been Crime Alley but rent was cheap and so long as you kept your head down no one had bothered you much. Nudging open the cabinet underneath the sink you collected the medkit and swiftly left the bathroom. Now wasn’t the time to get lost in thought. Setting the kit down on the coffee table in what you hoped was Nightwing’s line of sight, you next turned your attention to the kitchen. As if on autopilot you shuffled in and grabbed what you needed to make a couple of sandwiches. You worked in silence as you stacked them on a paper plate and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. Like most people you had a few waters in the fridge more for looks than an actual drink. Taking them to the coffee table you set them down next to the medkit. Sweeping one last concerned gaze over the vigilante still passed out on your couch you took a deep breath. You had done everything you could and you had at least enough confidence to know he wouldn’t die on your couch if you left him be. Satisfied he wouldn’t die in his sleep you left Nightwing be as you shuffled on back to your room and the sweet siren’s call of your warm bed.

In the morning you awoke half convinced it was a dream garnered by too much Lifetime TV. Especially when you saw the bat sitting against the nightstand. It wasn’t until you sat up that you had a feeling it wasn’t a dream. Your medkit sat at the foot of the bed. A place you would never leave it. Wide awake with adrenaline you shot out of bed to check if Nightwing was alright. What greeted you was an empty living room, the blanket folded and placed where it always was, no food or water left on the coffee table. Your second clue that it hadn’t been a strange dream came when you wandered into your own bathroom. Condensation clung to your mirror and one of your towels was definitely missing. Looking around further showed that he’d clearly had a shower before he left and you wondered exactly how tired you had to have been not to hear the water running considering the only bathroom in your apartment was in your room. Shaking it off you brushed your teeth and wondered why Nightwing had felt so comfortable showering in your apartment with only a flimsy bathroom door between you. Was he just that confident in his ability to sense someone sneaking up on him? Not that you would have even attempted. There were certain boundaries even you wouldn’t push and going out of your way to learn someone’s secret identity was one of them. Not that you thought you’d even recognize him. Grabbing the keys to your mailbox and a dog treat you locked the apartment door behind you. Like every morning you were going down to the ground floor to grab yesterday’s mail. No vigilante was going to ruin your morning routine. 

No matter how bizarre. 

Your routine was something you shared with your neighbor directly above you. Though more specifically you shared the routine with his dog. Your neighbor usually went down at the same time as you did every morning to grab yesterday’s mail and take his adorable puppy for her morning walk. To say you adored that dog would be an understatement. She had the ability to happily and shamelessly distract and derail your thoughts every time you saw her. She was the sweetest, happiest, thing you had ever seen with her wiggling body and lolling tongue. Truth be told, of which you would never admit, you could pick Haley out of a line up before you could pick out her owner. It was incredibly embarrassing but there was really nothing about Dick that stood out to you other than his dog. Sure, he was an attractive man, as your other neighbors liked to gossip, but Haley had always had your full attention. You hadn’t even realized how long he’d been your neighbor until he’d gotten Haley. Your direct nextdoor neighbor had practically laughed herself to tears when you admitted it to her. Cackling about how of course you’d notice the puppy before Dick ‘sex on legs’ Grayson. Which you couldn’t even argue against. 

As always Haley was sitting by Dick’s feet and promptly burst into happy wiggles and pants at the sight of you. Dick glanced up and then he smiled in greeting before going back to his mail, Haley’s leash draped loosely over an arm. Like always you smiled back before grabbing your mail, feeling Haley start pawing at your leg for her daily treat. Tucking the mail underneath your arm you knelt down to scratch Haley behind the ears. 

“Hi there sweetheart.” You cooed cheerfully just like every morning since you’d seen her. She was soft, smelling vaguely of vanilla and oatmeal shampoo. “Did your daddy give you a bath?” 

You thought you might have heard a huff of a laugh from the man in question but Haley had already zeroed in on the treat in your hand and had sat down with impatient squirming for her treat. 

“You’ve got her trained quicker than I have.” Dick groaned when you handed her the dog biscuit. That made you laugh. 

“I’m just happy you let me spoil her. She’s such a good girl.” You smiled and gave her one last scratch before straightening up. 

“She’s the best.” Dick agreed mildly before yawning. Your gaze was sympathetic. 

“Long night?” You asked.

“Yeah. You?” 

“Something like that.” You agreed unsure if you should admit to Nightwing stretched out on your couch in the wee hours of the morning. Or the fact he had apparently been comfortable enough to use your shower and steal one of your towels. Did that mean he was coming back? Or were you going to have to buy another towel?

“I better get going. You know how Haley gets when she can’t get her usual walk.” He told you with an affectionate eye roll. You laughed. 

“I’d be cranky too if I couldn’t get in some exercise.” You teased, “Bye Haley.”

Haley yipped at you tail wagging as you wiggled your fingers at her.

“Have a safe walk.” You told Dick when you glanced back at him. He smiled. 

“Yeah, thanks.” 

You could feel his eyes watching you as you turned back towards the stairs and disappeared behind the door.

More snacks! Plus some drinks

i feel like this has been done before but fuck it happy 4/13!!

Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?

In the warmth and safety of your bed you tried to ignore the way your phone was buzzing lost in the sheets. You had decided to stay home for once instead of letting your friends rope you into going to some party you didn’t want to be miserable at. Instead you’d enjoyed some alone time and crawled into bed as it had grown darker outside. Being home, on Earth, was still a surreal experience for you. But after the destruction of Alternia and the mass exodus of trolls fleeing the carnage you had slowly tried to come to terms with it. Which all yet again led to your predicament. Again your phone buzzed and giving into demands you picked it up and checked your messages. 

Most of them were pictures of the party you had declined to go to, all from Cirava. Scrolling mindlessly through them you paused on his last few texts. 

‘Where are you lmao’

‘Thought I saw you sneak out carrying your shoes’

‘I still need those back btw lol’

Sighing heavily you already knew the guy was higher than a damn kite. He usually was when he deigned to go to parties and if you weren’t with him he had a tendency to pull shit like this. Another message pinged through.

‘Must have been dreaming of bumping into you or something lmao’

It could have been a sweet compliment. Unfortunately things were never that simple. Letting the phone slip out of your grasp and back onto the bed you rolled over and tried to get some sleep. You’d managed to doze for a short bit before your phone began to buzz more insistently. Groaning in frustration you snatched it from your side and squinted angrily at the photoshopped image of Cirava on a moisturewave background. Rolling your eyes you hit decline on the call. Just as soon as you had done so the phone lit up again with his caller ID. Hitting decline again you checked the time and felt another swell of annoyance. 

‘Its 3 AM Cirava’

‘I’m tryna change your mind lmao’

‘Why’d you only call me when you’re high?’ 

Letting the phone fall onto your chest you tried to take a deep breath. He was just high and lonely. You didn’t want to be cruel but it was truthful, he really only called you when he was high. Always trying to talk you into something or another but tonight you were going to stay home and ignore it. You could apologize in the morning but not now, not tonight. Again your phone rang and in a fit of frustration you finally answered it, cutting Cirava off mid greeting. 

“Hi.” You replied flatly, “Why’d you only call me when you’re high?” 

“Lemme get somewhere darker.” He shouted over the music in the background, you knew he was only going to talk the same shit he always did. “I need a partner.” 

You sighed, doubting he could hear it over the noise. 

“Well, are you out tonight?” He continued. 

“Cirava its getting harder and harder to get you to listen, you know that right?” 

“What?” He shouted clearly not having heard you. 

“You’re incapable of making alright decisions, always having bad ideas.” 

“Its only three in the morning,” He scoffed, “and I’m tryin’ to change your mind.” 

You stayed silent. Frustration was back along with old hurt. 

“I left you multiple missed calls-,”

Unable to stand it anymore you cut him off.

“Why’d you only call me when you’re high?” You asked. Maybe it was the hurt talking or maybe you still wanted a genuine answer. Either way you knew you wouldn’t get one. For a moment the other side of the line was silent and you wondered if he’d hung up on you. 

“I can’t see you here.” He spoke, voice surprisingly subdued, “ Wonderin’ where I am.” 

What was that supposed to mean? Did he like jerking you around for his own amusement?

“It sort of feels like I’m runnin’ out of time.” He sighed, you could hear the rustle of fabric and realized abruptly that it was silent on the other side, “I haven’t found all I was hoping to find.” 

“Cirava-,”

“I know you said you gotta be up early in the morning, ‘gotta have an early night’, but I’m worried I’m startin’ to bore you, baby.” The use of the human pet name had you on edge. Cirava rarely bothered to use it. 

“Then call me when you’re no longer high.” You replied softer than you’d like. 

You knew he wouldn’t. 

He only called you when he was high. 

Please for the love of god. I have so many fics to finish and update.

Reblog the writers’ fortune cookie for luck!