writing is not my forte xd

Humans Are Weird

It is well established among all sentient species that Humans are Weird. Exceptional Humans, however, make the regular humans seem almost tame in comparison.
Yatrov was to show the newest crew member- another Human- “the ropes”, as Human Jenny phrased it.
Upon arriving, however, the newest Human barely spared xir even a glance, which was odd, seeing how Humans prize interaction above all else. Shrugging it off, xe delicately held out a clawed hand to engage in the Human positive-meeting greeting, a “hand-shake” it was aptly named. “I am known as Yatrov, in Human Common tongue. I am sorry to say that I was unable to read your file report, and am thus left without your name. What is it you wish to be called?” Yatrov was genuinely sorry; the ship was in dire need of repairs, and this Human was coming to help.
Instead of taking the proffered hand, the human’s brown eyes stared into xi’s own violet. “I am Giovanni. And you are approximately 7 minutes late. I do not fault you for your tardiness, your job is a busy one, so your apologies are void. I do not need to see the entirety of this ship, I only require the engine room. Take me there and I will begin repairs immediately. Social niceties and other such meaningless things can be done at a later date, if done they must be at all.”
Yatrov felt somewhat slighted; xe’s species did not greet with touch, but it was seen as an insult- a social misdemeanor- to deny the shaking of hands. Attributing it to the Human having been under circumstances that made him “cranky” and to the fact that the Human was excited to work- humans forgot norms when excited, xe had found- Yatrov continued to try to create a pack-bond with this Human, “I have heard many great things about you.”
“Truly?” The Human considered this for a moment, head tilting, “I am merely faster than most, mentally. A marathoner or racer is not spoken of in as high-esteem as those with quick mental facilities are, are they?” The Human was speaking out loud, xe found this practice odd and ignored it. “What exactly have you heard?” The Human tapped their legs with their fingers, adopting a rhythm unknown to xir, and hummed. 
Arrogance or curiosity? “Admittedly, not much has been told. I know that you have several thesis papers, have repaired and improved upon numerous ships, and that you were good enough that our captain was surprised that you even bothered to consider joining our crew.”
“Huh.” And that was that. Giovanni did not speak after that, made no effort to communicate. Giovanni did not try to obtain physical contact. Giovanni remained aloof with even Human crewmates long after he had joined. He also remained fidgety, seemingly unable to keep still, unless it was to engage in a staring contest with the resident cat- to keep the Humans from adopting a weird, deadly creature- or to continue his single-minded work with machinery.
Three weeks after he had joined, the ship was attacked. Vernians boarded the ship, using their many appendages to apprehend multiple members of The Highlight- the ship- at once. No one knew where Giovanni was, and no one would have been surprised if he had left to save his own hide.
Which was precisely why everyone, who were all bound and trying to negotiate with what was essentially pirates, was surprised when Giovanni came around the corner, a knocked out Vernian held under gun point.
Guns pointed at him, Vernians shifted to attack him. “What you need to know: firstly, I have hacked into your language processors. All Vernae will sound like gibberish.” He paused, then grinned ferally. “Try”, he dared.
“Kir-ah?!” They did, and did not seem pleased with the results.
“Back! Restore!” the voices of Vernians screeched, their language translators on the fritz. 
“Secondly,” he paused, “I will shoot your friend if you do not release my own.” When an uproar of shouting started again, he blandly stated, “Blank point will be quite messy, won’t it?” He hummed, as though in thought, though his eyes trailed after every movement the Vernians made.
A smaller one, likely emotionally closer to the Vernian Giovanni was holding captive,  pounced.
ZZZZZT-PA! The Vernian howled, two of its 11 “arms” gone. “My threat is not idle.”
The room quieted, members of the Highlighter slowly being released.
“Thirdly.” His lips pursed, his nose tilted, sneer deadly, “Run, and pray that I never see you again!” He shot a wall, and they scattered, leaving the crew of The Highlighter mostly unscathed.
It was hours later, after the chaos was settled and the ship fixed up again, that Yatrov approached Giovanni.
“Why did you save us?”
Giovanni scrunched his thick eyebrows together, “Why ever would I not?”
“You make no attempt to communicate with us.” Yatrov insisted, trying to discover the reason Giovanni would do something without some sort of gain.
“Oh, that.” He dismissively waved his hand, his face again lax and bored. “I do not see the point in wasting words. I enjoy the presence of the crew, and- while I see no point in engaging in it- their idle chatter is amusing to listen to.” He raised an eyebrow, “Why do you ask?”
“The crew operated under the belief that you disliked us.” Yatrov felt a small bit of shame; clearly, Yatrov had been wrong to assume that all Humans were so similar.
“I-” He looked hurt, eyes filling with water- tears, they were called, and Yatrov knew that this was not a good sign. His lips twitched, his words near whispered, “Did you not consider me a friend? I thought we were.” He had begun nervously threading his fingers, humming lightly.
“I thought you disliked me.” Yatrov’s admission only increased xir’s guilt, and the slight tremors of the Humans smaller body.
“I made you and the others a new computer.” Giovanni’s eyes searched Yatrov’s one, and again found no solace. A computer did not equate to friendship. “I *made* you and the others a new computer.” The emphasis hit Yatrov. Why would one handmake something if the person receiving it did not matter to them.
“I am sorry.” Yatrov paused, xe had seen it in a Human film once, maybe…? “Can we start over?” A small nod eased Yatrov’s mind and reaffirmed xir’s decision. “I am the one known as Yatrov, and I enjoy reading: fiction, typically.” Xe did not hold out his hand, but stared Giovanni right in the eye.
The smirk on Giovanni’s face told xir that the actions- or lack there of- was not missed. “I am known as Giovanni.” He held out his hand, looking smug and slightly proud of remembering this, as their hands clasped, he said, “I enjoy sandwhiches, science, and conversations on how realistic or achievable a work of fiction can be. It will be a pleasure to work with you.”

Humans were odd, but exceptional Humans lived by a very different set of rules. Intelligence changed their perceptions. Yatrov knew, from personal experience, that they were still Human, still fantastic and horrifying, at their core. Yatrov put down the book xe was reading, looking up to watch Giovanni’s animated expressions as he ranted about machinery. Yes, truly, Humans are Weird.

(Please excuse any grammar/spelling mistakes, my hand has been cramping up lately and it is hard to write at the moment. And I should not be writing sci-fi, because it is NOT my forte, but I had a plot-bunny and felt the need to attempt it. This is basically a shortened version of what I wanted to write, skipping over much of what I actually wanted to put down. Feel free to take the general idea and write something better XD )

Daddy! (The Joker x Reader SMUT!)

Originally posted by ronniesnark

Requested by anons <3
Prompts:  Can you do one where the reader jokingly calls Joker “daddy” and he ends up getting really turned on and it leads to some serious smut? Your writing is awesome by the way aaaahhh

Imagine the Joker (Jared Leto) spanking you for misbehaving!!! I’m sorry for my sinful nature XD
A/N: guys smut is not my forte i have no idea what im doing
WARNINGS: smut duh, a bit rough???


The tension in the crowded VIP lounge spiked as you cast your gaze down from the Joker that was staring at you with a mixture of anger and excitement. With a wave of his hand the room was left completely empty, besides the two of you. You could still faintly hear the loud music as the door shut. You licked your dry lips. He stood up, wordless, circling you like a wolf it’s prey before he stopped right in front of you.

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Wayward Souls - Bea Santello/Mae Borowski - SFW

Title: Wayward Souls
Author: Daisy
Fandom: Night In The Woods
Setting: Fort Lucenne Mall, Bea’s Car
Pairing: Bea Santello/Mae Borowski
Characters: Bea Santello, Mae Borowski
Genre: Romance/Friendship
Rating: K
Chapters: 1/1
Word Count: 1187
Type of Work: One-Shot
Status: Complete
Warnings: Gay, Femslash, Yuri, Fluff, Unbeta’d
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.
Summary: Mae was the worst guide ever.

AN: So, I’ve been on a NITW kick lately, I love the game so much. I haven’t finished it yet, but I can’t stop writing these. xD I love this ship. I love all my ships for this game. Hope you guys enjoy!

Wayward Souls


“Is it even possible to get lost this many times in a two storey parking lot?”

The tone in Bea’s voice was enough to tell Mae that she was getting frustrated. Of course, the shorter girl huffed indignantly, crossing her arms.

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anonymous asked:

AHHHHHHHHHHH I GOT SOOO EXCITED WHEN I SAW THAT PART 10 WAS OUT!! AHH I LOVE THIS, I LOVE YOUR WRITING, I LOVE YOU! You're absolutely amazing and so talented! We all waited so long for the smut and it didn't disappoint! Will there be more smut after this??

Originally posted by dani-okem

Hi anon! OMG, what a question! I do definitely plan to have more smut, cause I mean, look at Jaebum, there’s no way there isn’t going to be more smut with that boy xD Thank you for this wonderful comment, it makes my day to see that people liked this part (cause smut is not my forte, but I’m working on it ;) )


Read also on FFN

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Chapter: 1/? (ongoing), Words: 4625

Rating: K

Summary: “Well, Monsieur Noir, what brings you to our humble fabric store?” There was a teasing edge to the young woman’s voice and she was surprised to find it there, her natural reaction to the mysterious youth’s behaviour outplaying her initial intention to treat him with careful respect. / Victorian Age AU in which Marinette is a aspiring seamstress and Adrien a nobleman.

Characters // Pairing: Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Ladybug, Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir, Tikki, Plagg, Nino, Alya Césaire  // MariChat [and LadyNoir in later chapters]

Genre: Victorian Age AU, Romance, Humor

A.N.: Who would have thought that my contribution for MariChat to this fandom would look like this? XD

Anyways, dear @vanilla107, I’m happy to announce that I was your Secret Valentine. From your requests the Victorian Age AU one deemed the most intruging and unique, and so I started butting heads with my partner in crime and beta, @just-saoto and well… the plot had its own plan with us. XD

I’m a bit sorry that I was only able to finish the first chapter for VDay - because life hated me somehow - but I hope you like it and look forward to the chapters to come. You’ll also need to thank @just-saoto not only for her beta work on this story for her invaluable help at the times I got stuck during some conversational parts (bc MariChat is not exactly my fort of writing) she helped me out greatly (bc it’s totally her fort of writing, you should go to check her ‘Sleepwalking’ if you haven’t already). And even more, she is also already doing fanart to the story, the first piece will go online over the course of this day and there is more to come :3

The last thing to say is that amount of research I did for that fanfic is downright ridiculous. I dug myself through so many websites elaborating Victorian lifestyle, wages, job conditions, fashion and masquerade balls that it made my head spin and feel like I still don’t know enough. But nonetheless I took great efforts to be as historically correct as possible – with the small liberties I allowed myself to make that AU work for the two cuties. (And yes, of course there will be a masquerade XD). Next update will be in March :3



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anonymous asked:

hi!! are you still taking requests?? i'd love a piece where an awful downpour catches bellamy & clarke in his tent while making plans and they have to stay in for several hours together just talking and maybe arguing? and like if it goes any farther that's totally up to you haha??? love your writing!! :)

Okay, so this took me a few months to write xD Enjoy the fact that I’m on vacation and not hating my life due to my job, it means that you guys finally get your prompts. Don’t worry, this one isn’t sad.

Edited by the ever patient coldsaturn, posted thanks to the WiFi at DJs motel in Fort MacLeod.



It’s a planning session like any other. Clarke storms into Bellamy’s tent heedless of what he might be doing at the time, glares at him until he acknowledges her, and then raises what seems to be every possible issue in the world with him. Planning together is never fun, both of them certain their idea is better than the other’s, and unwilling to compromise until they’ve beaten the issue to death thoroughly. They end up having really good ideas, most of the time, but it’s a trial at the best.

And then the rain starts. A few drops, which don’t even register with the argumentative pair, is all the incredibly brief warning they get. There is no gradual onset. A few drops fall, and then the clouds dump their loads over the forest. It’s so sudden that Bellamy actually jumps and looks around before realizing the roar is the sound of rain and not some beast they had yet to encounter.

“Shit.” Clarke only ever swears around Bellamy, saying she thinks it makes her seem less intelligent and she can’t afford that around the delinquents. Bellamy likes to imagine that they hear things a little better when he says he’ll fucking gut them if they don’t obey, but Clarke can, and will, do whatever she wants.

“What’s the matter, princess, afraid of a little rain?” He can’t help but tease her. He doesn’t know why, but it’s just so satisfying to make the normally composed girl fall apart.

“Only slightly concerned about hypothermia or pneumonia, if I can’t get dry. This is all your fault, you know.” She narrows her eyes as she turns on him, and Bellamy raises his hands in mock surrender at the anger in her voice.

“Woah, how do you see that?” He’s still smiling, mostly because he knows it pisses her off.

“If you weren’t so damnably stubborn about assigning people to help me gather herbs-“

“Let me stop you right there.” She looks even angrier as he cuts her off, but Bellamy is not getting into this again. “We can’t spare guards just to gather herbs. The fact that I let you have one hour with guards tomorrow is criminal enough! If the Grounders should attack-”

“We’ll need herbs to treat the injuries that people will sustain! And one hour is not enough time to get half the stuff I need, unless you give me Jasper or a couple of builders.” She has a point, but he can’t spare those workers. He would go himself, but they can’t leave the camp unattended with the threat of Grounder invasion looming over their heads.

“Jasper is working on making more gunpowder, and the builders are improving our defences. We can’t do without them, or we will die when retaliation comes.” His smile drops as Clarke fights with him over the point. Again.

“Great then we’ll die a week after, when infection starts to kill people.” The distance between them has slowly been closing to the point where they could throw blows if they were so inclined. Instead of attacking, they just cross their arms and stare at each other. It’s almost like animals locking gaze for dominance.

In the seclusion that the rain storm has provided, Bellamy notices more about Clarke than he’s ever had the chance to before. He can hear the quickened pace of her breath, frustration causing her chest to rise and fall slightly quicker. There’s a slight sunburn dusting the ridge of her nose and the tips of her ears. Even though she’s been on Earth and out in the sun as much as any of them, her skin is still pale and likes to turn pink rather than tan. He can see the little hairs that fly away from the main mass, seeming impossibly thin in the light of the candles he’d set up earlier.

His eyes flick briefly to her lips before Bellamy catches himself. He can’t think about Clarke that way. Not only would it complicate things, Clarke would probably kill him if he tried to do anything. He gives himself a mental kick for even contemplating what the consequences of trying anything would be, as if he wanted to make a move on her.

“You’re completely impossible, you know that?” Clarke’s gaze is still frighteningly intense locked on his. So Bellamy just shrugs and drops his eyes for a second, breaking the stillness of that moment.

“I’m not the only one who’s impossible, princ-“ Bellamy’s cut off again, but not with words as earlier in the night. Instead he feels a pair of lips press to his own, hard enough to verge on painful. It’s quick enough that Bellamy doesn’t have a chance to react.

“I hate that nickname.” Clarke’s arms are still crossed, but now her gaze holds a challenge to him. Daring him to acknowledge what just happened or, if he dares, act in turn with her decision. A smile returns to Bellamy’s face in a slow stretch of his lips.

“Well, what are you going to do about it, princess?” He completes the name this time, and there’s a heartbeat of stillness. He honestly couldn’t say which one of them moved forward first, perhaps they did it in unison, but it doesn’t matter in the end.

All that matters to him after their lips meet is memorizing every detail of every second that his body is in contact with her. They move together, all heat and passion. Clarke bites his lower lip hard before sucking it into her mouth for a moment, and Bellamy feels the pain and subsequent comfort race through him like fire on oil. He groans against her lips and moves to pull Clarke flush against him, hands wrapping over her hips and gripping hard. He can feel her smile as she rolls her hips against him, drawing a moan from him.

His mouth detaches from hers to move over the rest of her skin, tasting her jaw and sucking light marks down her throat until he reaches the junction of her neck and shoulder. He nibbles at the skin lightly, enjoying the pleased hum she gives him in return. His hands toy with the edge of her shirt, slipping just under the edge before grasping it to pull it off. But then he feels smaller hands on his wrists, stopping him with the lightest pressure.

“Not yet, okay?” Her voice is uncertain, but Bellamy’s hands immediately let go of her shirt and go back to smoothing over her back.

“Of course.”

“It’s just-“ Bellamy cuts her off with another kiss, sweeter than the last.

“You don’t need to explain, Clarke. You say stop, and I’ll stop. No matter what we’re doing, or what’s happening. It’s called respect. Okay?” Of course he would listen to her explanation if she wants to tell him, but he feels like she should know that the reason doesn’t matter that much. If any girl, let alone Clarke, tells him no, Bellamy stops. There’s no reason in his mind not to listen to such a simple command.

“Okay.” Clarke lets out a sigh of relief. “But we can still do the kissing thing, right?”

“Of course.” He presses to her again for a brief second, before drawing away and adding with mock admonishment, “You’re not getting any more workers, though.”

Clarke laughs as she runs her fingers through his hair. “Ass.”

“Princess.” Bellamy is fairly certain that if she keeps kissing him every time he uses that nickname, he’ll never stop.

They end up curled on his bed, listening to the storm rage outside and not talking about anything except for to occasionally make suggestions about camp. And suddenly Bellamy finds it far easier to agree with Clarke, and she seems to compromise with less of a struggle. Maybe planning sessions won’t suck as much in the future.