#And the robot grows not only to serve‚ but to love

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

What if I was insane again about the first thing Alpha Grim Sonic hearing when Nine creates him is his purpose—that he is Nine's friend?

Friendship as a concept in Prime is handled interestingly among its main characters. As Sonic (who thinks he knows a lot about friendship) comes to deepen his understanding of what it means to have a home/be home, I think it's safe to say his definition of friendship develops along with it. Compare this to Nine, who's learned everything he knows about "friendship" and personal relationships in general through his relationship with Sonic (at least, after his childhood of bullying).

So of course I think about Nine, who never wants to be hurt again, yet can no longer bear feeling alone (not after feeling that sense of companionship and belonging with someone else), which results in him creating a warped version of friendship for himself (one where he is surrounded by people, but people who only do whatever he wants, who have no opinions and thoughts of their own, who can't backstab him). And so I think about Alpha Grim Sonic, who is the very first robot Nine creates under this idea of frienship and companionship.

Nine is his master, and Alpha Grim Sonic is his protector, his bodyguard, his weapon

But he's also his friend.

Alpha Grim Sonic doesn’t talk back (can't even if he wanted to), but his purpose has always been clear to him: be Nine's friend. That's what he was created to be.

So I imagine Alpha Grim Sonic performing his purpose to the T at first under Nine's framework. He's Nine's friend, so he does whatever Nine commands, he never talks back or challenges authority, he protects Nine at all cost. And then, perhaps unbeknownst to Nine, he begins to shift ever so gradually. Sure, he's never insubordinate, he never offers up opinions, he still can't speak, but the lines of devotion begin to blur.

Is it in his code? Is out of a real sense of feeling?

Alpha Grim Sonic does not understand friendship, no matter whether it believes it does or not. But it's ironic to me if, despite being created under Nine's warped idea of it, the robot slowly grows their own soul, witnesses other displays of frienship and care, and drifts outside the bounds of that idea (a carefully crafted painting begins to leak out of its frame, expanding the masterpiece). They protect Nine, they do only what he commands, and yet they hate to see Nine in pain, they wish to bring Nine comfort (and so it feels good to him when Nine commands him to do such things that might bring his master comfort).

Does this make any sense? To believe that friendship means to hold one person on a pedestal, to protect them, to only listen to them, to never talk back, to never have opinions, and yet, despite believing what your creator tells you of friendship with them (your very purpose in this existence), to slowly fall further into those feelings that true care and love for another person brings, to wish to comfort someone the way one might describe a true friend would, despite not realizing any of this.

[bunnyreaper]

𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘 𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝖕𝖙 1 — 𝖕𝖙 2 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 wc - 5.7k warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom sub dynamic, eventual romance/smut, medium burn? notes - first part of my owner!soap x pet!reader, woohoo! i already regret writing something centered around texting and calling lmao, crying!! the formatting is killing me!! anyway, also on ao3! and if you wanna send a request, pls do! ♥

Lonely girl looking for owner. 

Posting on this subreddit again was probably a mistake—but a deep-down part of you clings to the hope that this time will be the time you find someone, the time you get to go home to him. 

At least this time, you'll be better at spotting the signs right off the bat—if only you can take off the rose-tinted glasses long enough to take note.

Your inbox is flooded with the usual kinds of messages—unsolicited pictures, low-effort one-sentence wonders, and so-called doms jumping straight to the part where they call you a nasty whore with no actual consideration for the person you are. 

You're just about to give up, delete the post, and ignore all chat requests when a message arrives in your inbox. 

From: squeakycleanscot 

Subject: Lonely guy looking for girl

Hi,

Saw your post and knew I had to message. You sound like everything I'm looking for and more.

I'm a little younger than the age you put on your post, but I think I fit your other requirements. I'm 27, Scottish (yes, with the accent), and in the army, I hope that's a turn-on rather than a turn-off.

When I'm not deployed, I like cosy nights in, preferably with my love by my side. Don't mind a night at the pub either, especially if there's a Celtic match on, not that anywhere near here shows them. 

I'm looking for something longer term like you mentioned (would love to collar my girl one day, which is probably ironic considering I'm a wee bit scared of dogs.)

Happy to send a picture if you'd like :) 

Hope to hear from you soon, 

Johnny.

Johnny. 

You reread the message, turning his words over in your mind. 

Something about his message has your attention—it at least suggests he has a brain in his head and a heart capable of empathy, and that maybe he's serious. 

You begin typing your reply instantly, your fingers moving so fast you have to type and retype so many parts to rid the message of all of the overexcited mistakes.

hi johnny, 

scottish?! is it bad im already imagining how your dirty talk will sound? 

it's funny, i always wanted to join the army growing up, but it never worked out. maybe it's for the best as now i'm not immune to enjoying a hot man in uniform... which I'm assuming you are ;) 

cosy nights in are my favourite too! I'm a bit of a homebody and love being snuggled up more than anything. i have to let you know in advance that you have some stiff competition in the form of my giant teddy bear, barnaby. 

i'm looking for something longer term too, or at least not a one night kind of thing—a collar one day would be the dream <;3 

if you send a picture, ill send one back, nothing sexy just yet though, if that's okay? 

have you met up with someone off here before? just curious about your experiences! 

y/n

As soon as the message is sent, the overthinking kicks in—was that too much? Is he going to think you're weird? 

You shuffle in bed, turning over between the sheets and trying to flick through other apps as you wait for a reply—otherwise, you'd just be staring at the notifications bar waiting for that silly little robot face to pop up. 

Johnny doesn't leave you waiting long, only a few minutes passing from your last message.

Maybe you'll find out sooner rather than later just how my dirty talk sounds ;) 

I tried to sneak in before I was old enough, but they caught on. Served since I was 18 though, you'll have a lot of stories ready from me if you're ever willing to listen. Not sure if the uniform is anything like you're thinking though, in my unit it's mostly just t-shirts, tac vests and trousers. 

I'll prepare my best snuggling arms for if we ever meet. You should inform Barnaby now about his replacement, mind. 

Can't not send a sexy photo though, sorry lass, all my pictures are. I'm sure you understand, lol

Haven't met anyone, had a few conversations but nothing worth pursuing, and had kind of given up until I saw your post. 

His message is the perfect mix of sexy, sweet, and sincere—and if that is the essence of the man, you know he's everything you're looking for. 

You try not to think too hard about a hot Scottish accent calling you all your favourite names or telling you exactly what to do, or even those stories he has to tell, as the idea is all too exciting. 

Reading his message, you instinctively reach out to pat Barnaby when you see he may end up replaced—hopefully the poor bear will understand when he has to vacate the bed for this sexy soldier man. 

looking forward to it. can I start putting in requests now for bedtime stories too?

i still wanna see, maybe in your sexy-not-sexy pic? 

barnaby will be devastated by the news, and you may have to give him hugs too (but not for too long, or i'll get lonely!!!)

same here, about things not going anywhere... or people turning out to be a bit scary, so you're not allowed to let me down, okay? 

Maybe the last part of the message was too much, but your heart is already soaring with unbridled hope—along with that hope comes doubt too. 

Each second waiting for a reply drags, and you take to re-reading his messages and clicking on his profile to investigate. 

It's largely empty of posts, but there are tons of comments across different communities—including his aforementioned football team, r/Scotland, and eyebleach. 

Clearly, he's a softie at heart. 

When his next message comes through, it's an Imgur link with a short message. 

Here we go, a few months old though now. Don't have anything more recent from work :) 

You take a moment or two to steady yourself before you tap the link. While you definitely feel like you and Johnny have already started to click, if he's not your type then it probably won't go anywhere... 

It's a situation you've been in before—great conversation, similar interests but no physical attraction, and back then you didn't have the heart to break it off straight away.

You tap the link and are greeted by a full-body shot of a tall, well-built man in tactical clothes. His hair is a neatly trimmed mohawk, and while his face isn't crystal clear, he's clearly fucking handsome. His biceps bulge from the gray tee stretched over his torso, his large hands are covered with gloves and grasping a gun.

Your eyes trail to his long legs, thick thighs encased in camo and strapped with various holsters. All in all, the picture is perfect. You find yourself zooming in desperately to get a better look at his face, the handsome jaw lined with stubble that you can already imagine between your legs. The whole image and every new detail has you squirming in your bed, and cheekily wishing to save the image to your phone.

holyfwucj 

holy fuck 

Like what you see? 

i need a hug from you urgently. 

now i feel shy... 

It had crossed your mind ever so slightly that Johnny may be out of your league, or that he simply may not be attracted to someone like you, which would be a complete shame. Now you've set eyes on him, you want him even more—want to kneel at those feet and stare up at his hulking figure while he tugs on a leash around your neck. 

Hopefully, just like you, he'll be smitten from the first glance. 

Scrolling through your camera roll, you decide you don't exactly love any recent photos of yourself. The ones at your last work event have you looking far too corporate, and the only image from your last night out was taking in a bathroom mirror in the local Wetherspoons—neither of which is ideal. 

You crawl out from the warmth of your sheets, kneeling on the end of the bed and posing as you point your camera in the mirror that sits across the room and captures you perfectly. Before you start snapping, you adjust your top to make sure too much isn't on display, even though it's strappy and cropped, and definitely a little bit more on the tantalising side as far as your pyjamas go. 

Hopefully, Johnny likes the pose and the outfit... and you. You can see your smiling face just to the side of your phone as you press to capture the picture—and when you return to your inbox to send the picture link, a message is waiting for you. 

I already know you're gorgeous. Don't leave me hanging, bonnie. 

okay. this is me now, all ready for bed!! 

Holy fuck yourself.

And I'm assuming that's Barnaby in the background. 

If he notices the pose, he doesn't comment on it, instead delighting your heart by commenting on Barnaby instead.

sure is! he's ready for snuggles and sleep. 

Can you do me a favour? 

That message makes your heart skip because usually when something like that is asked, it's followed with a request for nudes or something sexual—and while that is a large part of something like this, you crave the connection first, crave someone actually sticking around and getting to know you. 

depends on what it is!

Tell Barnaby to keep looking after you until I get there, yeah? 

does that mean you're coming for me?

One day, if we're both lucky.

seems promising so far, Johnny. 

Get some sleep, yeah? Maybe tomorrow night I'll give you a bell. 

The idea of this conversation ending is heart-wrenching, but at least sleep will bring you closer to that possible phone call. Hearing his voice, now that will be even more incredible. 

how do you expect me to sleep after telling me that? so mean! 

Patience, bonnie. Be good for me? 

You clench, your thighs squeezing together as arousal rushes through you. It's like he knows exactly how far to go, what buttons to press, what you're looking for.

It's the right kind of commanding, toeing the line perfectly between flirtatious and in charge. A lot of guys you've talked to have rushed it made commands too early, and sent you running. Johnny's words, be good for me? You can't help but want to behave. 

okay, but I see how this is going to be :( 

Bet you look so fucking good with a pout ;) 

now you're just being a cruel tease, Johnny... 

Sorry, I'll stop. Sleep, yeah, for me?

cuddling up to barnaby now. 

You decide to attach another picture, your eyes screwed shut and cheeks squished as you wrap yourself around the bear and cuddle up under the sheets. 

talk tomorrow?

Of course, bonnie, sweet dreams <;3 

You lock your phone, your eyes feeling relieved as they adjust to the darkness. 

For a brief moment, you just clutch your phone to your chest and recall the picture Johnny had sent, how much you'd love to be wrapped up in his arms tonight. 

He's the only thing on your mind as you drift off to sleep.

-//-

Your dreams are tumultuous, starting off with a nightmare of being chased and chased until your legs give out, only for you to find salvation and safety in a stranger's arms—one who seemed vaguely familiar. 

The first thing you do when you wake is roll over to check your phone, elation overtaking you when you see a notification from Johnny already waiting there—already he's blessing you with a good morning message.

Good morning, sweet girl.

Attached under the picture is another image link, and clicking on it brings up an absolutely gorgeous picture of Johnny, lazing in bed. There's just enough light in the room for you to see the brightness of his eyes that you couldn't see before—his mohawk is mussed, and his smile is easy, drawing you in. 

He's even more handsome in this up close photo, you can only imagine what he looks like in person, right before you. 

morning Johnny <3 how did you sleep? 

Like a baby. Yourself? 

not the best, but I swear you were in my dream. 

Sorry to hear that, but oh already? What did I do? 

I mean, it was a bulky guy with a mohawk but he didn't have your name, I think it was meant to be you though. 

You recall the safety you felt in the arms of the strange figure, it was serene, and everything you hope to feel when you find the one—hopefully that's Johnny.

My dreams were shite, you didn't show up. 

i'll try harder to be there tonight!! 

Promise? 

promise. 

God, he's so fucking sweet. It's hard to imagine he's into all the things you mentioned in your initial post, at least right now. But you're all too familiar with how appearances can be deceiving—you wonder what else your sweet Scot is into. 

You peel back the covers and head out into the kitchen, flicking the kettle on mindlessly as you keep your eyes fixated on the screen—not wanting to be even a minute late to answering Johnny's texts, even though it seems there's a natural lull in the conversation. 

You return your focus to making your tea, and your thoughts don't drift from Johnny for even a moment, as you ponder ways to keep the conversation going. Admittedly, you have a million and one questions you want, but you don't want to come across too... eager? clingy? Like some serial killer fiending for information? 

It's crazy the way your heart yearns for him so soon—and it's crazy the way that you wish he feels the same as you do. You wonder how his day is going, and if he's staring at your phone waiting for your message.

With tea brewed, you set it on the coffee table and flop onto the plush couch, rushing to open the app when a new notification pops up.

What's your plan for the day? 

lazy day, binge-watching... texting you? wbu? 

I have to work for a bit, but I'll message you when I can. 

On a weekend? That's horrible, but I imagine they run a tight ship over there. 

You rush to follow up your message with something else. 

will you still be able to call tonight? 

Aye, give me your number, I'll save it! 

You send off your number and don't hear anything from Johnny for a good few hours. You pass the time watching one of your favourite shows, and trying to resist the urge to go scroll down Johnny's profile once more.  

The next time a message pops up, it's well past lunch.

Cute profile pic on whatsapp.

Johnny has clearly added your number to his contacts and spied your picture on the app. You blush thinking of him seeing you in that costume—especially after he knows what you're into.

it was Halloween, I swear!! 

You make an adorable little kitten, lass.

imagination running wild now? ;) 

Aye, but I'm a gent. 

hopefully not always...

Oh, you'll see. Talk to you tonight, kitty. 

talk to you then &lt;;3 

Now you're just itching, waiting for the hours to crawl by for Johnny's workday to end, so you can talk to him again, so you can finally hear his voice. 

What will it sound like saying your name? Whispering sweet nothings in your ears? 

The hours pass slowly until a different notification lights up your phone as you cuddle into your sheets.

Hey, it's Johnny! Just got home. 

You scramble to click on the pop-up, spying his own profile picture in the corner—tapping on it to view it closer. 

It's the Johnny you recognise, smiling wide with his arm slung around another man. He looks so ridiculously happy, probably due to the pint in his other hand. The more you look at him, the more you can't believe you're talking to this man, that he wants to talk to you. 

You quickly add him to your contacts, putting a heart next to his name, before you return to the chat and begin to type.

i'm not the only one with a cute pfp!! 

Three sheets to the wind in that picture, actually.

i can tell &lt;3

Ready to call? 

whenever you're ready!

The image of him floods your screen, the screen pulsing as it waits for you to accept. Your fingers tremble as you press the button, and you fall silent as you press the phone to your ear, nerves gripping at your throat. 

"Hi, bonnie." His voice drifts from the phone speaker, sweet like honey and warm like sunshine, with that gorgeous accent too. 

"Hi." You squeak out, silently cursing at yourself for being so nervous and seemingly unable to speak. 

A melodic laugh follows your words, amused but not cruel or mocking. "Are you nervous?" His voice is soothing, his concern and sweet nature evident. 

You cradle your burning cheek, feeling the way your blush spreads across your smiling face. "Just a little, can you blame me?" 

He's laughing again, and you hear a shuffling noise that suggests he's getting comfortable. "Don't be, I'll look after yer, I promise." 

Fuck. You could get used to hearing that. "I really like your voice." You admit, whispering into the phone with a ridiculous grin on your face. 

"I like yours too, you sound so sweet." 

You drop your voice lower, giggling mischievously. "Only sometimes." 

"That's what I like ta hear." The way Johnny's voice dips as he says that has your insides fluttering, but you can only assume he's returning the favour. His tone returns to its usual charming tone as he asks, "How was your lazy day?" 

"Well, I kind of spent a fair bit of it distracted, thinking about this important call I was going to have tonight..." 

"Oh aye, I should get off the phone so you can wait then." 

"Funny. How was yours? What do you even do day to day, anyway?" You ask, voice brimming with curiosity—there are so many things you want to ask, but you imagine his job can be secretive. 

"Lots of training, and sometimes paperwork, which is right shite." 

"Not when you don't have someone under the desk keeping you company." You laugh, taking the chance to flirt. If you were into Johnny after reading his messages, actually hearing his voice is only making your attraction soar. 

A quiet fuck can be heard, as the man on the end of the phone heaves out a breath. "I'll have ta look into getting you clearance if you keep talking like that, lass." 

"Glad to be of service, what can I say?" You find yourself in a giggle fit at your own silliness, a mix of nerves and joy at enjoying yourself so much.

"God, I love yer laugh." The deep sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. 

The drug that is Johnny is already so intoxicating. 

"I'm so glad you can't see me blushing." 

"I'm no'." He sounds so indignant about that. "But I could listen to that laugh all day, really."

If only he could see you pout too. "Now you're just trying to make me blush more." 

He chuckles, his voice dropping dangerously flirtatious again. "Maybe I am, nothing you can do about it."

"Now I'm pouting." 

"Better not pout in front of me, lass." His suggestive tone makes you shiver. 

"Oh, why's that?" You ask, playing coy. 

"'Cause I'll just have to start kissing ya, might even nibble on those soft little lips." 

You suppress a delighted squeak, already so flustered at even the idea of a kiss. "I'm not hearing a downside." 

"No?" 

"Nope." 

"Might not be gentle with you, though." 

"Good thing that I like it rough." The words are out of you before you can reconsider, but they have exactly the effect you intend as you hear Johnny inhale sharply.

"Ach, you and yer wicked mouth." 

"You have no idea..." 

He lets out a rough exhale, his voice turning gravelly and deep. "Fuck, bonnie." 

"Hey, I'm only repaying the favour, I've been squirming desperately pretty much since I picked up the phone." 

He whistles approvingly, his voice now teasing and playfully menacing. "Just you wait til I'm really in ya head." 

"You're already making good progress." You admit.

"Oh aye?" 

You hum contentedly, eyes flickering shut for a moment. "I'll be imagining your voice as I fall asleep tonight." 

"I'll just have ta send yer voice notes to drift off to, so I can end up in your dreams again." You can almost hear the smirk in his voice. 

"Already spoiling me, too." 

Fuck, how is it this man seems to know exactly what to say? Everything that comes out of his mouth takes root in your brain and sends your thoughts running wild—it's like he's already in your head, or as if someone made him in a lab.

"I'll spoil ya every day, if you're ever mine." 

You groan in frustration, unbelieving that a stranger can be so seemingly perfect. "How are you even single, Johnny?" 

"I could ask you the same. Taking everything in me to not ask for an address right now, if I'm being honest." He huffs a laugh. 

While the idea is thrilling, you know you should have at least some sense of preservation, and shouldn't blurt out your postcode for this strange man you barely know. "I'm worth the wait, I swear." You whisper your promise. 

"I'm sure yer are. But to answer your question, my work keeps me busy a lot, and this lifestyle isn't for everyone." There's a hint of vulnerability to his voice, and you sense such a fact is a sore point in his personal life. 

In the fantasy of all of this, you suppose the reality of the situation isn't something you'd stopped to consider. Life for a man in the military was surely so different from a regular 9-5. "I'm guessing that you're away a lot?" 

"Aye, sometimes for just a few days, sometimes for months, all depends." His admission is soft, as if you can hear in his tone that he's waiting for you to bolt. 

If that's the big 'catch' when it comes to Johnny, you can breathe a sigh of relief. "Yeah, I guess you need someone strong and loyal to hold on and wait for you." 

There's a tense silence, something lingering in the air. 

"Hard to come by, I've found." 

The thought makes your stomach twist in the worst possible way. Johnny, at least on the surface, seems so worthy of love. 

You chance the question that's on the tip of your tongue, hoping Johnny doesn't mind your reckless curiosity. "Have... you been cheated on?" 

"More than once, gets less surprising over the years." He finishes with a sad laugh, as you can tell he tries to infuse humour into the whole thing. 

"That's... horrible." 

Being sent away from your home to face gunfire and warfare, all to keep the people back home safe... only to be betrayed by the people back home who love you, who are supposed to wait for you. It's a gut-wrenching thought, and your heart aches for the man.

"A few of the lads here have a similar story." 

"So the army, not for the faint of heart, and dating an army man, not for the faint of heart." You sigh, though you don't feel put off by the thought.  

"Exactly. That you then? Faint of heart?" 

"No. I mean, inside I'm clingy as hell, and I'd miss you like crazy every day until you got back..." Your emotions overtake you, as you imagine a future where you'd have to kiss the man goodbye for maybe months at a time. "But I get the feeling that what we could have would be worth the wait. Hypothetically of course." 

At that, Johnny laughs, and his light tone returns. "Don't want to get too far ahead of ourselves, aye." 

You don't want to get ahead of yourself, you know you shouldn't, but the way you and Johnny have clicked is unlike anything you've felt before. "But... I have a good feeling." 

"I do too, already dreading putting down the phone." 

"I'm not planning on it anytime soon, even if I have to be up early tomorrow." 

"So do I, alarms set for 4." 

You do not envy his lifestyle one bit.

"That's awful! I'm gonna be so cranky tomorrow, I might have to use my lunch break for a nap." You admit, preemptively yawning into your hand. 

"You one of those perpetually sleepy girls?" 

You nod, even though he can't see it. "The sleepiest." 

"Barnaby is a lucky bear, getting to cuddle up to you so much." 

You burst out laughing at the hint of envy in his words. "Are you... jealous?"

"For now, but soon the tables will turn." He faked an evil laugh, that only makes you giggle harder. 

"Oh, you think you can give better snuggles than him?" 

"Oh, I know I can, bonnie. The bear can't wrap his arms around yer, can't whisper sweet things in your ear..." His voice dips back into that seductive, teasing tone. "... Can't trail his hands down to that pretty little pussy." 

Once more, you flush with desire, every nerve alight as Johnny's words wash over you—although it seems like almost everything he says has your body reacting. "You have an interesting way of cuddling, Johnny."

"Didnae say I was actually gonna do anything once my hands got down there." 

"Well, I wouldn't be opposed." 

"When you're in my arms, you wouldn't have a choice, lass." The dark, dominant voice makes you shiver, makes your submissive instincts awaken. 

"Oh yeah?" 

He hums slowly. "Once you're mine, you leave the choices to me. Johnny knows best, yeah?" 

"Johnny knows best." You whisper breathlessly, the words coming out automatically, like they just feel right.

"Steamin' Jesus, can already tell yer gonna be the death of me." 

"Can't have that, your family won't get your death in service payout!" You laugh awkwardly, before a sense of guilt rears its head. "Sorry, grim joke." 

"I don't mind. You should hear some of the ones my Lt. comes out with, he's a right sick bastard." He chuckles.

"Never want to make light of it and hurt you, though." 

"Telling jokes makes it easier hen, you'll be wishing me dead in no time at all."  

You gasp, shocked by the prospect. "I'd never!" 

"Not even when I deny you from touching yourself for my entire deployment? Months of nothing at all?" The sick grin is evident in his voice. 

"You wouldn't, that's so mean. You're too sweet for that." 

"Aye, for now, but don't you like a little bit of meanness, if yer into men like me..." The edge to his voice and the truth to your words has you trembling. 

"Maybe..." You singsong in response, not wanting to give away just how much you liked the idea of his mean side. 

"Bonnie..." He tuts disapprovingly. "Don't play coy." 

You shudder out a breath as you squeeze your thighs together for relief. "I just don't want you to bully me too much right now, I'm already soaked." 

"Is that right?" He seems delightfully surprised by such a revelation. 

"Mhmm." 

"I'm fucking rock hard if it helps, think I have been since last night..." You hear him shuffle, and you try not to imagine what's happening on the other end of the line, or how he looks lying in bed with said hardness.

When he groans hungrily down the line, you feel yourself quake once more. "The sight of you on your fucking knees... Christ alive." 

You can't help but giggle at your unintended teasing. "It wasn't on purpose, I thought it was cute more than anything." 

"Adorable and naughty, could cum just looking at it." He huffs. 

"You're just flattering me, besides, I could say the same about your picture."

Every part of you flushes thinking of the first photo he sent, all muscle and alpha male—it's like he was the physical embodiment of dominance, and just looking at him makes you want to kneel.

"You like the military get up?" 

"Love it, more than I probably should." 

"Oh aye, bet you'd love for me to order you around?" His words are playful, but underpinned with a hint of promise. "All in due time, eh?" 

"All in due time. What's your rank, anyway?" 

"Sergeant." 

"Wait..." You take a deep breath as you consider your question. "Can I ask for your last name or is it too soon?" 

"Mactavish."

Johnny Mactavish—you should remember to give that a quick Google search later.

"Sergeant Mactavish." You test the name on your tongue, trying to imagine him at work, following and giving orders. 

"Sounds too good when you say it, bonnie." He laughs. 

"Thank you, sergeant." Your affectation of the word is entirely intentional, as you attempt to rile him up with the use of his title. 

The throaty groan that leaves him is addictive.

"What else do you like to be called?" 

"Depends on what you want to call me really, but I like... sir." 

"I like it too, will have to remember that for the future, and just torture you with sergeant in the meantime." You can't help but giggle as you flirt. 

"Oh don't worry, am keeping score." He growls playfully. "Wait til I get ma hands on you, bonnie." 

"You're keeping score?" You gasp, a heady mix of fear and arousal coursing through you almost urges you to be even more of a teasing brat.

"Aye, spanking arm at the ready." 

"My pouting lips are ready." 

"Won't be the only thing you use them lips for."

Fuck fuck fuck. Not that you hadn't thought about it already, hadn't already let your mind drift to what his cock might look like—whether it matches the size of the man—now you're definitely thinking about it. Fixated on it, craving it. 

Some cards are best kept close to your chest so early on, so you change tack and go a different direction with his flirtation. "Yeah, with you in the room, I'd probably be smiling a whole lot." 

The two of you continue to chat, you asking what you can about his work as he asks about yours, and you fill him in on the boring world you live in, which seems especially boring in comparison to taking down cartels and traveling the world.

The conversation never stops being easy, the flirtation and innuendo always right there at the tip of your tongues as you tease each other relentlessly—giving as good as you get. All night, you're practically grinding against your duvet as you get lost in Johnny's dulcet tones, and you find yourself just letting him speak for the sake of getting to hear more of his voice.

As Johnny is about to ask you more about your background, you're overcome with a harsh yawn that you desperately try to stifle. Your eyes have been shut for the last hour at least, but with the command Johnny has over your nervous system right now, it's been easy to stay awake. 

"Tired, bonnie?" He asks, voice laced with sweet concern.

"Yeah..." Your voice falls quiet, as the thought of ending the call makes your throat constrict. "But I don't wanna stop talking." 

"Me either, but av got bad news." 

You know what's coming, and you know it isn't remotely anywhere near the end of the world, despite what your heart is telling you right now. "Go on." 

"I have to go." Even he sounds sad about such an outcome. 

"It's not even that late?" The clock reads 2 am. 

"Gotta get a wee bit of sleep before I hit the gym, and then get off ta work. Don't you have work too?" 

"Work from home tomorrow, so it's not too bad. Not fair though, I wanna keep talking." You admit quietly. It's too much too soon, but you're overwhelmed, the tide of your emotions crashing over the edges.

"Tell yer what. Next time we call, we can try leaving it on while we sleep."

Your heart flips, as you almost whimper at how cute the gesture is. "Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?"

"Obviously." There's that gorgeous laugh again. "Is it working?" 

"Just a little, but that might be the lack of sleep talking, I might be going slightly insane." 

Johnny sighs, and it's clear he's battling to keep a handle on his self-control. "Rest, bonnie, I won't be able to work knowing you're not sleepin'" 

You sigh too, accepting your fate. "Okay, just for you." 

"Just want what's best for you, you need your sleep."  

Your head spins at how utterly sincere he sounds—the care in his voice after such a short amount of time serves to drive you even deeper into this infatuation. "Already?" 

"Can't turn it off, am just protective by nature, bonnie. If you were my girl, you'd have a bedtime." 

And that makes your cunt clench and your heart soar. "Johnny..." You whine.

"Yeah?" 

You hesitate to say what you want to say next, but everything within you is calling out for him, desperate to be in his arms. "Don't make me wait too long to meet you, please." 

His laughter is sweet, conveying a sense of understanding more than anything. "I'll try ma best, supposed to be off on Friday." 

"5 whole days."

"Sure you don't wanna wait a bit longer?" 

You shake your head, mumbling a sound to convey your feelings. "Feels right, don't know how to describe it... do you feel it too?" 

Johnny takes a deep breath, his voice shaking slightly as he speaks. "I do, lass." 

"Good." You couldn't even attempt to fight the idiotic grin on your face, or how warm you feel inside and out. "I'll get some sleep, talk soon." 

"Goodnight, bonnie. Sweet dreams."  

You wait for Johnny to end the call, not wanting to push the button yourself and have his presence fade away. When your screen dims, you resist the urge to text him more, opting instead to put your phone on charge and roll over to Barnaby—wishing it was Johnny instead. 

[synthient]

Matrix parallels aren't the only or primary lens to read this movie through. But I gotta do the special interest shuffle (spoilers for I Saw The TV Glow throughout):

We get at least one overt matrix reference, which is the bit where Owen's movie theater is showing a sci fi movie where humans have been driven underground after machines took over the surface

There's the obvious thematic overlap of "is reality real," "are my memories real," "to what extent is my reality shaped by information/entertainment technology," "is there an Outside to escape to," "would I want to if I could," etc.

The pods and the coffin. "What if I was something powerful and beautiful, suffocating"

There's also some interesting overlap with matrix 4 specifically re "what's the line between transition and suicide," "to what extent is transition a kind of death," to what extent is not transitioning a kind of death." Along with the general stuff around nostalgia and mythologized source materials and hauntology (a term Schoenbrun has used in interviews & that I first heard in a matrix 4 podcast, lmao)

The pods and the heart/luna juice sequence both posit Being Made To Live Like This as a visceral bodily violation

Tv glow is maybe more cynical about the possibility of a true Outside/alternative to the system. Though Zion turns out to not be fully "outside." And Maddy's vision (of a slightly more magical suburbia that still can't escape the confines of "the county") is probably supposed to be less The Only Vision, and more filtered through the lens of someone young and very early transition. Generally though, tv glow is much more focused on interiorty and personal transformation (or lack thereof) than overt politics, although a critique of capitalist suburbia is certainly the background radiation

Also interesting, I think, that "how does kitsch and 'bad art' shape our identity formation" becomes a central question of the later Wachowski oeuvre. And something that's always been present in their work--and has maybe been one of the most polarizing things for viewers--is the combo of "we want to make serious art, And we want to make the kitsch we adored growing up. at the same time." The pink opaque conceit perhaps manages to draw enough of a boundry between The Art and The Kitsch to head off some of the confusion and frustration re "how much of the kitsch is intentional, and how much is an attempt at serious art that failed"

The Family (and the whole concept of having loved ones to leave behind) is basically nonexistent in the matrix trilogy, and Just Evil Robots Don't Worry About It in 4. Tv glow gets much more into this. Though both the saintly mother & and the monstrous father equally serve to keep you trapped, in the end

Anyway. Perhaps the matrix has shaped the entire concept of "trans cinema" to the extent that you kind of have to engage with it on some level. Perhaps it's simply that We Are All Having The Same Thematic/Philosophical Preoccupations. All very interesting regardless, to me

[sashi-ya]

𝐥𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 yakuza! roronoa zoro x f! reader. [+𝟏𝟖]

❀ tw: MDNI. Would you like to serve a mafia boss like Zoro as his sugar baby? I would. car fucking. squirting. pure smut. creampie. I do not romanticise mafia, this is just fiction. ❀ wc: 1.3k

Who carries a katana nowadays?

Why, from all the men you could have fallen with, you chose him? Having an affair with a Yakuza should be the last thing to do for a young woman like you… and yet, there you are still, getting inside an all-black car, with armoured walls and windows.

Your tiny frame compared to his gets dragged to the back seat and then over his lap.

“New perfume, hm?” he asks, nuzzling on your neck.

Straight nose, lips a little cracked. Strong arms around your waist, pressing you down. Zoro, better known as the King of Hell around friends and foes,  needs to destress after a long day making business…

“You bought it for me, King of Hell” you mumble, almost robotically. You don’t want to commit any type of mistake… you are there, only and for one purpose; serve Roronoa Zoro with your body.

Truth is that you are scared of him, and yet, you can’t wait for the night to come to get absolutely destroyed by his demonic thrusts.

“Good girl… I thought of a special plan tonight. I kinda wanna have some fun, some drinks and perhaps fuck you anywhere I please” he says, so nonchalantly as he squeezes one of your breasts.

You jolt to his touch; you are used to this treatment. Is not disrespectful, he only does what the contract you signed stipulated.

The bumpy roads of the city he controls become a blessing for a shameless hardness growing underneath of your legs.

“I’m already getting hard, maybe we won’t get to the place without me filling that pussy with cum…” he whispers, with raspier sexy voice, in your ear. Zoro bites your neck soon after, owning a beautiful moaning coming from your lips.

“In fact, stand up” he commands, lifting you up from your waist. His strong arms can make his katana cut steel; you weight nothing to him.

The sound of his black pants zipper going down competes against the melody of your accelerated breathing. He wants to fuck you right there, in the car, with the chauffer a few centimetres from where you are. And the only things separating you from him is nothing but a black frosted plastic.

Slowly turning around, you see him pumping his dick to get ready for your walls. There isn’t much space, even if the car is pretty big, is just what it is. The windows have gotten pretty foggy already, your skin is burning.

“Com’ere” he orders, so impassively calmed, with a hand on his sex and the other one loosening his tie.

You nod, lifting the tiny skirt you are expected to wear, with of course, no panties underneath.

Biting your lower lip, you slowly get closer to his sex by sitting back into position.

However, Zoro has no time to lose, and he needs to feel your warmth around his shaft now.

Huge hands, with a thumb pretty calloused, squeeze your hips. “Sit down already” he grunts, pressing you violently against his lap.

Hardness that feels like the sharp of his katanas impaling you, makes you moan loudly. Some tears form in the corners of your eyes, and a mixture of pain and pleasure invade your body leaving your brain completely blank.

“Ugh, so tight! I just love to fuck you, little bitch” he growls, as he begins to pump inside you, deeper each time. Your legs hang on each side of his legs, without reaching the floor of the car. No matter how tall you are, you aint bigger than him.

Zoro lets go of your hips to invade your chest in between jumping buttons of a Gucci shirt he bought for you.

The erect part of your nipples, so sensitive, feels like the perfect place to pinch for him. He is rough, but precise. He knows exactly where to squeeze, where to pull too.

Your back lays over his prominent chest, and the interior of the vehicle smells like sex. His own body scent is stronger than any perfume… and it’s spellbinding to you.

As he keeps fucking you, you notice the car isn’t moving. The lights of Shibuya cross outside show that once again you are stuck in the typical rush hour of Tokyo. But he doesn’t care, nor you do.

“Spread those legs, bitch” he tells you, passing his hands from behind to your inner thighs. Mercilessly, Zoro spread them by carving his nails on your flesh.

He smirks, biting your shoulder with no delicacy. “What about ruining the upholstered, mh?” he laughs, still inside you and his hands in behind your knees to keep your legs open as much as he can. Your ass is also brought a little further, making his dick to fully hit your special spot with indescribable pressure and pleasure.

Your eyes open wide, your accelerated breathing; the shame in you too high to even let you say something.

The depraved yakuza wants you to cum all over the seat… why? Oh, cause he can. Cause he wants. Cause he have thousands of cars too. And also, because he despise his chauffer named Sanji… he wants him to clean the seats.

It takes Zoro a matter of seconds -and deadly thrusts- for you to experience in your guts the “losing control” feeling.

“I can feel you are throbbing around my dick, that means you are close… aren’t you? Come on, I want to see you so wet before I fill you up” he keeps whispering, low, with warm breath and some nibbling on the lobe of your ear.

You can only nod frantically, short of air, printing your palm on the foggy surface of the car window. “Yeh- yes… King of Hell…” you whine, feeling exactly what he described; an unstoppable throbbing that will soon lead you to explode.

He goes harder, even faster. Your eyes going white, a pressure building in your core and dripping fluids running through the sides of his caramel, veiny dick.

Zoro can sense the pressure pushing his sex out of your spasming walls. He keeps going, forcing it to keep growing inside your womb, trying to make your belly bloated from pressure and his thrusts. He wants your climax to be strong enough to push him out of you. And with his perfect demonic hips rhythm that doesn’t take longer to arrive…

“Zo-Zoro-sama!!!” you moan, loud enough to be heard by half Tokyo -not to mention by the chauffer-

“Come on, little bitch! Cum, now” he celebrates, allowing a big pushing spasm to make him slide out of you. As he predicted, you explode. Dripping, with a stream tinting in the soft red lights filtering through the foggy windows, getting everything around wet.

Your nails carved into the sides of his muscular thighs, as a sign of your body trying to grab for dear life not to pass out…

“FUCK, FUCK FUCK FUCK!” You repeatedly swear, making your green haired dom to laugh so pleased for your reaction.

And as you tremble, because of non-stoppable waves of climax, he impales your right back in.

This time, Zoro lets go of your legs, and now he pushes you against the plastic wall in front of you. Your cheek squeezed against it, seeing the blurry image of the driver through that not that private separation.

Zoro’s hands land on each side of your face, also pressed against the plastic. It cracks a little, yet it is able to hold both of your weights.

His back hits the roof of the car, and he doesn’t care. Zoro only wants to finish, and for that he will have to fuck you just a little longer.

Your inner thighs are completely dampened, and the once again penetration makes won’t allow you to rest. A state of constant climax has invade you, it isn’t stopping… you aren’t breathing properly, you aren’t even thinking straight.

Completely dampened in your fluids, you are about to be blessed with the sticky release of the man who posses you.

One of Zoro’s hands passes around your neck, gripping tightly to it. Big enough to grab it all, to squeeze it and make sure not a single molecule of oxygen reaches your lungs.

“I want you to walk inside the bar with my cum dripping down your legs, ok? My sweet little bitch?” he murmurs, causing you to shiver strongly than you have been until now.

“Ye-yes, Zoro-sama” “Good girl, I might wanna make you my wife after all… now… Hold. It. In. Until. We. Arrive…”

[cybunii]

YOU NEEDED LOVE, I NEEDED YOU !!

a/n: i got sad and wrote this LOL but people wanted a part two to the other one so i hope this one is just as good !!

pairing: Leon kennedy x Gn!reader

cw: sad leon, maybe ooc?

-

Leon didn't like being alone after he met you. 

He clung to you as soon as he met you, doing everything in his power just to get an ounce of your attention. It's almost like a puppy begging their owner for treats or toys, he needed you, it was simple.

He’d walk to the ends of the earth for you, maybe even haunting you after death.

Even if he was cranky, or didn't understand the little things you did. He still loved you with every single piece of him, his heart belonged to you. 

And that was enough. 

Holidays have always been odd for him, his work never let him off around these days and he's so used to all of the stress that comes with the job. 

He felt almost empty, or maybe useless. 

He put that energy into almost everything he did with you, helping with baking and decorating. Even taking the time to decorate the outside of the house. It made him feel content, at least it made you happy. 

After helping you bake the first time, he was practically hooked. One bite of the desert you made and his fate was sealed, you had baked his heart and served it up for him to eat. 

He didn't think he minded that thought that much, maybe it was self-destructive or obsessive- But he would let you do anything to him, then again cannibalism always had weird hints of romance in those books he picked up. 

Decorating was fun at times, your pushy nature about how certain things needed to be done made you seem cute. 

He didn't understand the hype behind real christmas trees or specific ornaments on them, then again he didn't celebrate christmas growing up. Not that he never wanted to, but Santa and presents were off the table from a very young age. 

The way the ornaments lit up when the lights were plugged in was stunning. 

He decided that was his favorite part, well maybe one of them. Seeing your face break out into a smile once you stepped back from the finished tree may as well be burned into his memory. He wished he could've taken a picture.

-

He knew the holidays would be different this year, he was warned about a dangerous mission about a week ago, and the possibility of him coming back was less than none. 

He didn't like those odds. 

Not that he feared death or his job, but the first thing that came to mind was you. I mean he fought for you, secretly laid on his deathbed a few times, and thought of coming home to you later. 

He could never tell them no though, who was he to go against them? He was at their beck and call, a mindless robot who goes on missions and returns with less and less of his sanity intact. 

You weren't the jealous type, or at least he didn't think you were. He could handle you hating him, but he didn't want to feel the hatred at the moment, coming up with a desperate plan at the last second. 

He used Ada as an escape plan, thinking chasing after a woman on christmas would make you hate him, that way it was easier for him to leave. 

You didn't give a reaction, just staring at him with a blank expression. 

Every silent minute felt like hours, the seconds slowly shattering his heart the longer he stood there. Not like you knew that, he had been trained to keep a straight face, this was nothing.

-

He knew what nothing felt like when he left you. Leaving out the door with nothing to his name, no car, no clothes, and absolutely no money. Only a throwaway phone he used. 

He didn't want to look back at you, even if you showed no reaction, he didn't want to break down crying at the sight of your blank face. 

His only destination was the location they gave him, punching the place in and groaning when its hours away. 

He made it there the next day and to his surprise? 

They no longer needed him, the mission was a success by some other agent who was able to get there quicker and finish the job. They didn't know what he did to get there, and quickly ushered him out, saying they'll call if they ever needed him for something else. 

If leaving you didn't break him, knowing he could've come back to you absolutely crushed him. I mean even to the point of dry heavy sobs in some random hotel that he managed to get a room at, grabbing at the sheets as the tears ran down his red face. 

He never was the type to show his true emotions, always bottling them up until they turned to anger wasn't exactly the best thing for him to do. 

They always led to moments like these, a bottle exploding under the pressure and going everywhere, unable to be fixed or glued back together. 

It took him hours to stop crying, only because nothing else would come out anymore. 

His puffy eyes and disheveled hair made him frown, he never was one to look so pathetic, at least not in these situations.

He just wanted to lay somewhere, letting all of his emotions out and not having to do anything else. He never was the best type to be alone, his thoughts never made it easy.

-

He never did leave the state, coming back to your town with the promise of a small job at some weird office. Didn’t matter to him, it made decent money. 

He was observant of his surroundings at all times, his broken heart controlling his eyes as he walked the town, hoping to even see just a glimpse of you. 

He never did. 

He wondered if you had moved away. 

He hoped you didn't, with enough money he didn't mind going everywhere to find you. There's no limit to what he would've done to find you. 

There wasn't a day that went by that he didn't think of you, or how sorry he was for leaving. He would look out the window at night just staring at the moon, hoping you were too, at least you'd be doing the same thing he was. 

That would be enough for him. 

With the extra money he had, he would just walk around the town for hours. Going to the most popular restaurants and parks. Supposedly those were fun things to do, but he knew he only went there because he went there with you. 

He couldn't even shop without thinking of you, buying the small snacks and not thinking about it until he got home, leaving them sitting in the cabinet for months because his mind tricked him you were still around. 

It was sad, and he knew that. 

It was heartbreaking to know christmas was next week. How had time slipped by him that fast?

He may not have had his own traditions, but he’d never forget what he did with you. Practically burning a hole in his wallet as he bought a real christmas tree, buying the same ornaments and lights, and every single ingredient for the stuff you baked. 

The finished tree never did look as pretty without your smile paired with it.

And the deserts tasted empty, it wasn't like they weren't good- But they could be so much better if you had made them. 

He had bought you something too. 

It may have been corny, and also pathetic- He seemed to like that word, being hard on himself had to be his favorite pastime at this point. 

But he bought you a ring, one you had pointed at on a random day saying you wanted it. It hadn't even been a week since you started dating when you said that, and he remembered it ever since. 

He was definitely using that memory for later. 

But now it sits under the bright, but also dull tree, the lights bouncing off the shiny wrapping paper. He dreamed of giving it to you, maybe even placing it in your mailbox with no return address. 

He decided that was creepy, a good call on his end.

He wasn't a stalker, maybe not in a bad way. 

That’s beside the point. 

He missed you that night, maybe more than any other night. His mind decided to be real nice to him that night, creating a dream of you being together again and being happy, celebrating christmas like old times. 

He may have woken up that next morning and bawled his eyes out, but that was okay.

It felt real to him. 

And that was enough for now. 

-

word count: 1.5k

[elen-benfelen]

welsh remus guide pt.1

As a casual marauders fan (if such a thing exists lmao), I’ve noticed a growing love/interest towards Remus being Welsh and exploring what this means regarding accent, mannerisms and language. Seeing Welsh being butchered by the use of google translate, whilst understandable that people would turn to it, is actually physically painful at times. And so!! I’ve decided to start collecting some language tips and bits of info to help anyone who wants to Welshify their Remus. The source? My upbringing as a first language Welsh speaker in South-West Wales.

The most popular head canons I’ve seen, some based on scraps of info from canon, is that Remus is either South Walian (specifically South-East Wales - aka the Cardiff area) or North Walian. I’ve only lived in North Wales for just under a month so I have a rough idea of NW slang but I’m no expert. I have lived in Cardiff for about 3 years so I have a stronger grasp on broad South Walian slang.

This is to say - I will try and give words and bits of info I think would be useful to know but my ask box is always open to more specific questions. I’m also a nerd towards the Welsh language so this is going to be an unnecessarily deep dive into it.

First Lesson

Gogs - North Walians

Hwntws - South Walians

Gogs (short for Gogledd meaning North) and Hwntws have an age old rivalry. Our accents are very different and even our Welsh can have a huge variety of slang and accents.

Examples:

Milk - Llaeth (Hwntw) Llefrith (Gog)

Now - Nawr (H) Rwan (G)

Whilst plenty of Welsh folks have very English sounding accents, if someone has a distinctly Welsh accent you can usually tell pretty quickly where they’re from. Accents within the Welsh language itself tend to be rather strong and distinctive for most people. It is extremely common for someone to ask you where you’re from once they find out you speak Welsh. Probably cause Wales isn’t that big and only like 20% ish of us speak Welsh??? Idk. It just is a thing. So like:

“O, da chi’n siarad Cymraeg?” (Oh, you speak Welsh?)

“Ydw! Wyt ti o’r Gogledd?” (I do! Are you from the North?)

“Yndw, dwi o Gaernarfon. Ble yda chi’n byw?” (I do, I’m from Caernarfon. Where do you live?)

“Fi o Rhydaman.” (I’m from Ammanford.)

Hopefully that dialogue feels human and not like two robots talking but you get the gist of it lmao. So, for those of you who want to make another of the characters, such as Lily, Welsh as well, it wouldn’t be out of place for them to try and establish where the other is from when first meeting. But also be aware that their slang and language would be different if they’re not from the same area (as with any language or country).

Conclusion: You cannot slap the blanket label of Welsh on Remus and then have him speak any old welsh and use any slang and such. So either choose somewhere specific or throw a dart and stick with where it lands.

Note: I am not the collective consciousness of every Welsh person. My experience is not universal - especially when it comes to North Walian things. This is just meant to serve as a general guide. Hope this helps and good luck with your writing!

pt.2

[theitgirlnetwork]

Better

Ch. 15: A Gallagher (Happy Birthday Charlotte Part 2)

Note: Helloooo! I'm backkk! Thank you for all of the love and appreciation you all have been showing this story. I took a break and now, it's time to get into act two, married life with Lip and Charlotte. As always I love the interaction and am extremely inspired by it so thank you for all of the reblogs, notes, and messages. It's a short one while I get back into the swing of things, but I'm excited for what's next. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Love ya! <3 MDNI!!!!!

Warnings: Mild sexual content, strong language

“Go ahead, baby.” Lip says smugly, his head cocked back in arrogance as Charlotte bounces up the steps, keys jangling in her hands as she twists open the lock.

“It’s…it works, s’ours?” she gasps, whipping her head to look back at them. 

He follows her up the steps at a slower pace, relishing in her happy squeal when he lifts her into his arms and carries her inside. The place is big, but not too big. There was room to spread out. To grow. It looks like what she’d described to him, her dream starter house. Maybe it was smaller. A townhouse and not a big four floor home like the one she was used to. But it was the one she pictured them in.

“Ready? Go ahead and press it, babe.”

The little junkyard robot (if you can call it that) whirs to life and starts spinning in circles in the small space Lip and Charlotte had cleared on the floor. Charlotte gasps and leans forward, leaving Lip’s chest cold as her back bends to look at the little invention closer. “He’s like a real robot. That’s so cool, bubba.”

“He’s a piece of shit model. Lost me a hundred bucks when I took him to one of those fights, embarrassed the fuck outta me.” 

“Aww, he’s so cute though. Like Wall-E.” Charlotte hums, poking at the moving scraps and smiling as the machine rolls backward again. She turns to face Lip, shifting in his lap while wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’re so smart.”

“Yeah?” he leans in, lips just a breath away from hers, cheek dimpling with his smirk. “Say it again.”

“No, your head already too big”

“Yeah, okay, c’mere.” he grunts, pulling her weight completely against himself, trapping her with his arms as his fingers start tickling her sides, dodging her flailing limbs. “Say, ‘Phillip, you’re so smart.’”

“Ph-phillip-” she giggles, catching his hands in her own and lowering them to her waist, rolling her eyes as she feels their descent to her ass. She brings her own hands up to his cheeks, rubbing his nose with her own before pecking his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” he murmurs, blue eyes locked on brown as he leans forward to capture her lips again. 

A crash sounds from downstairs and the pair jolts apart, Charlotte immediately crawls out of his lap and holds her hand out to him to help him off of the ground, only to squeak when he tugs her back against him. “Leave it, Fi and Ian are home.”

“Yeah, but, if we don’t check they’ll come up soon to get us anyway.”

It’s true. Lip thinks through all of the times people have just barged in on him and Charlotte. His siblings. Frank. Monica. V or Kev. The cops. He’s realized for the first time that he’s tired of it. 

Obviously, it's not the first time that he’d considered the concept of privacy with the thousands of children Monica and Frank dump off here, the constant inward and outward flow of fuck buddies until Charlotte and Mickey and the tendency of people to just run up into their house with no consideration. He’d come to the conclusion that he needed to escape numerous times. College was one. His professor’s house was another. Hell, sometimes depending on how old he was, his little stints with foster families when CPS got wise to their living conditions served as a nice little break from his family. Ultimately, Lip was not new to the idea of trying to get away. But he’d never thought of it in this way before. Never where he had someone he wanted to take with him. 

“Hey, Bunny?”

“Hm, yes, baby?” 

He glances away for a moment, willing away the blush that forms on his face when she says stuff like that. “You, uh, you ever think about where you wanna live?”

Charlotte tilts her head in confusion, absently brushing something off of his cheek as she thinks over his question. “What, like choosing between here and V’s?”

“No, like, when…uh when we move. Just us.” The girl damn near headbutts him. Her hair smacking his face as she buries her face into his chest, making a shriek-like noise and kicking her feet against his legs. “Uh, what the fuck?”

She lifts her head with a smug look on her face poking at Lip’s forehead, “You wanna live with me?”

His brows furrow as he smooths his thumb over the spot on her forehead she’d hit his chest with, “Fuckin’ careful, gonna knock yourself out. We already live together-”

“But it’s not enough.” Charlotte sings, continuing to poke at him. “You want me to yourself. That’s so cute.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Lip laughs, smacking her ass with one hand, pushing off of the floor with the other and lifting her with him, walking them over to the bed with one of her legs dangling as he carries her with his arm hooked under the other. “I take the question back.”

“Nuh uh,” she hums, grunting a little as he drops her onto the mattress, pretending to ignore his hands sliding up her shirt. “You put the offer on the table. I want our house to be green.”

Lip stops and looks down at her as she smiles up at him softly. Keeping one hand on her chest, he slides into the bed behind her, resting his head next to hers. “Yeah? What else?”

“Phillip.” Charlotte pouts, turning back to her husband after taking in the room. There’s no furniture, but it’s decorated with little lights and a blanket and pillows on the floor along with all types of different kinds of snacks and more flowers. 

“Uh…I figured you’d wanna get the furniture with me. And…we’re gonna have to wait until our next paychecks to get some. But…uh, I had Ian and Mickey help me set this shit up. And then I kicked em out because…Mickey’s an asshole and wanted to control everything. He’s into this shit you know…but…um…happy birthday, Charlotte.”

Charlotte continues to gape at him in disbelief. Her eyes are wide, mouth opening and closing. She’s speechless as she stares at the man in the doorway. 

“You, uh, you like it?”

It’s a good thing he can carry her. Because the way she launched herself at him with no warning would’ve brought someone else to the floor. Instead he relaxes in her hold, wrapping his arms around her waist as she wraps her legs around his. 

Smoothing her hands over his blond curls, Charlotte looks at Lip. Really looks at him. She gives him that look only she’s ever been able to deliver him. The one he works for every time he busted his ass at work, or chose to skip out on getting a beer. Scraped together every spare penny he had for that look. “I love you.” she breathes, smiling at him. “You gave me a house.”

“You…you gave me a home so…it was the fuckin’ least I could do.”

All Charlotte could do is bury her face in his shoulder. 

But it was true. She saved him, gave him a purpose. She made Lip want to be a man. One that his family deserved. One that deserved her. 

“Wow.” 

Lip glances over at his sister from his spot in the empty kitchen, closing the fridge door before making his way over to her. “You like it?”

“This is…really nice, Lip.” Fiona slowly makes her way through the pace, peeking her head into the bathroom. “You can afford this?”

The blond shrugs noncommittally, crossing his arms. “Close enough. I never gave Charlotte’s dad back the money, and I’ve got my promotion, plus the money she and I have saved up…we’ll be straight.”

“Good. Good.” Fiona hums, looking around the room. She rolls her lips inward, taking a deep breath. “That’s good, Lip.”

Lip’s eyes narrow as he watches his sister’s demeanor as she takes in the extremely large decision he made and immediately feels a wave of insecurity wash over him. “Fuckin’ what?”

“What?”

“Why’re you actin’ like that? All…like what you don’t think she’ll fuckin’ like it? Or…or-”

“She’ll like it! Jesus! What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you?!” Lip huffs, dragging his hands over his face. “Like, you think I messed up or somethin’?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“I’m proud of you, asshole!” his sister whips around to face him, pale face flushed pink as she sniffs, fresh tears pooling in her eyes. “I’m…I’m really fuckin’ proud of you.”

Lip stops, feeling the anger and embarrassment he had building drain from his body as it turns into concern for his eldest sister. He slides onto the wooden floor, leaning his back against the island and quietly pats the spot on the floor next to him. “And?”

Fiona sighs, dropping her purse to the side before slipping into the spot next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m really proud of you and…it should be me.”

Lip nods silently as he digs in his pants pocket and pulls out a pre-rolled blunt he’d been keeping to celebrate with Ian later. Fiona needs it more. Flicking his lighter to life he christens the townhome with the scent of weed, praying the neighbors wouldn’t complain before he even got to move Charlotte in. “‘Kay.”

“Like,” Fiona sniffs, grabbing the blunt and taking a deep drag. “I feel like all of a sudden you’ve got this normal ass life. Got a wife, a house, a real job. And I’m still here, still working bullshit jobs, still taking care of kids that aren’t mine, still fuckin’ the same losers-”

“Uh, that one guy had some money right? The uh…the drug addict’s brother? Jimmy-” Lip adds, glancing at her out of the side of his eye to see if he’d effectively lightened the mood.

Fiona nudges him with her shoulder, passing the blunt back. “Dude, fuck you, for real.” 

Lip chuckles, nudging her back before wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “But uh…for real, I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t have been able to get here without you, like caring about us not bein’ complete hoodrats growin’ up. So…um…thanks.”

The brunette looks at her brother with an amused grin, shaking her head as she takes in the man before her, barely able to recognize him as the snot nosed little brat that used to get the shit kicked out of him at the playground for conning kids out of their ice cream money in order to get them one to share. “God, you better hope you never fuck things up with her. Wasn’t me. That girl raised your ass.”

The pair spends the night wrapped in each other. They eat in their new house and it feels surreal. The quiet. The comfortability. For the first time since they got married, they got to feel like husband and wife, not two teenagers with promise rings shacking up in their parents’ house.

They make love on top of the blankets on their living room floor, sharing air and clutching each other close. The only sound echoing in the empty house is their heavy breathing and there’s no sense of urgency.

And when they’re done they shower, peacefully and in hot water.

As he watches his wife drift off to sleep next to him, his body serving as a cushion for her from the hardwood floors all he can think about is how maybe all of the shit he tolerated earlier in life was to prepare him to really be able to appreciate this.

“You’re gonna live here?” Debbie frowns, crossing her arms over her chest as she glares up at her oldest brother. 

“Uh, yeah, Debs, me and Charlotte are gonna be stayin’ here from now on.”

The day after Charlotte’s birthday the couple invited the remaining Gallagher siblings, Mickey, Kev and V over to see their new place. They were all sworn to keep the new address a secret from Frank and Monica if she ever rolls into town again. Some of their family members were taking the news of the move better than others.

Debbie loves Charlotte. She’s the girly, fun older sister vibe that she’s always wanted. While she loves Fiona, she’d always acted more as a mother figure than a sister, so she couldn’t necessarily be the fun one. But the real heartbreak was Lip. Debbie had always been a Lip girl. Carl had Fiona, Debbie had Lip, that was the way it worked. How could he help her with her homework, or pick her up from the bus stop everyday from out here? 

She’d been glad he’d gotten a girlfriend at first. She was nice, and pretty and made Lip nicer. And happier. She didn’t think she ever saw Lip smile as much as when he was with Charlotte. And then he married her and it was even better. But now…now it felt like Lip was becoming a part of something that had nothing to do with the rest of them.

“Great, so Lip gets to take Charlotte and gets to move out of our shit house, what do the rest of us get?” Carl huffs, kicking a box that was clearly marked ‘Lip’s shit’ causing the vein in his brother’s neck to pop. 

“Make your own damn money, how about that, shithead.” Lip slaps the back of his brother’s head before picking up a box and carrying it into the kitchen. 

Distantly he could hear Charlotte promising the kids that they would get to visit the house all of the time and that she and Lip will visit them so often it’ll feel like they hadn’t moved at all. He rolls his eyes to himself in some fake showing of irritation, but is inwardly proud to be with someone so kind to his siblings.

They’d moved the bed they shared at V and Kev’s house to theirs early this morning. So, now, they officially had one singular piece of furniture. They plan to work their way to getting more as time develops, mainly because Charlotte was not okay with looking over the shit people had thrown away before it hit the junkyard. Lip had tried to explain to her that it wasn’t technically trash until it got there, but she was strongly against it. 

Kev gifted them a hot tv that one of his customers dragged into the bar about a month ago and was currently mounting the small screen in their living room. The place was sort’ve coming together. At least to their standards.

Lip’s siblings stay for a couple hours and decide to head home when the second bus heads out. As Fiona slings Liam’s diaper bag over her shoulder and Ian picks him up, Charlotte and Lip exchange a look.

“Hey, uh, Fi, can we talk to you really quick?”

Fiona places the bag down, shrugging “sure.” before following Lip and Charlotte into the kitchen. The latter pushes her way up to sit on the counter and Lip stands between her legs, her hands resting on his chest as he leans back into her, facing his sister. “What’s up?”

Lip hesitates slightly. He knows this topic is gonna piss her off. He rolls his tongue in his cheek as he thinks about how to approach the conversation in the least damaging way possible, rubbing his thumb along Charlotte’s thigh for comfort. “We uh, has CPS reached out yet?”

“Not yet.” Fiona starts, tucking her hair behind her ear, wrapping her arms around herself. “The house is…pretty cleaned up, so as long as Hurricane Frank doesn’t hit before they come we should be alright this time. But, uh, when they come I’ll call you.”

“Right, we were thinking. That um,” Lip sucks in a breath, scrubbing down his face before deciding fuck it he was gonna have to get it out sometime. “Maybe, maybe Liam should stay with us for a while. We talked about it yesterday, and we’ve got room for ‘em so-”

“Why?”

There it was. The kicked puppy, ‘are you tryin’ to say I’m not doing a good job’ look that he wanted to avoid. And now here come the dramatics.

“Fi-” he sighs.

“No. No, why would he stay with you? He’s been perfectly fine with me at our house. You’ve got this place for like, two seconds and you already think you’re better than somebody?” 

Lip can feel the irritation building under his skin. His jaw works as he breathes out heavily and he feels Charlotte’s hand tug lightly on the hair at the nape of his neck.

“It was just a thought, Fiona.” Charlotte cuts in. “Lip is his legal guardian right? We just thought it might make things easier for the CPS visit. Easier on everyone, you know? We just wanna help.”

Fiona’s lips twist as if she was forcing herself to hold her tongue. She opts for shaking her head, moving away from the pair to leave the kitchen. “Help yourselves. That’s what Lip wants to do anyway.” 

As the couple hears the rest of their family be ushered out of the house and the door slam behind them, Charlotte pulls Phillip to her, placing his face in her cheeks. “Are you okay?”

The man sucks his teeth and shrugs. “Yeah, she’s just dealin’ with shit. She’ll get over it. She’s sensitive about the whole, me being Liam’s legal guardian thing and now she’s being a bitch about it.”

Charlotte nods, with an easy smile. “Yeah, but I mean with all of it. You’re moving out of your family home. Away from your younger siblings. It’s different, and I wanna make sure you don’t feel like…rushed or somethin’.”

“Bunny, I’m the one who got us the house. I’m fine. That’s my old life, right? This is my new one. I’m startin’ it with you.” Lip smiles, pulling her into a kiss and tugging her off of the counter, holding her up by her ass as she wraps her legs around him. “Now we have to find places to fuck in this house that we couldn’t living with all 5,000 Gallaghers.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes as Lip flips her up onto his shoulder, landing a loud smack on her ass. “My prince charming.”

“Yeah, fuckin’ better be, I bought you a damn house!” 

“Ha! How long are you gonna milk that?”

Lip meant what he’d said about starting a new life with Charlotte. 

It was the one thing he still believes her father was right about. He’d have to choose. Not to cut off his siblings and old life completely, but he couldn’t stay the way he was and be with Charlotte. He couldn’t have the life he wanted. He didn’t even know that he could live like this. 

Good, happy homes were things of fairy tales in the Gallagher house just like unicorns and magic wands. Nothing was gonna happen to make their lives better, they just had to make do. It was a hard lesson they all learned. Hell, Debbie was starting to see now. You work, grind, steal, and have small bursts of mania where you get to taste happiness, and then you fall hard. And Monica and Frank show up to trip you on your way down to make your fall even harder.

Even when Charlotte showed up, she was the lone beam of light in the otherwise deep pit he was born into. He didn’t know there was anything else. Until he started to set a routine in this new life with Charlotte.

Somehow, waking up at 7:30 to get ready for work was easier for Lip when he was with her. Don’t get him wrong, was he a morning person? Absolutely fucking not. But, having his sexy wife laying in bed next to him, waking him up with kisses and the occasional handjob definitely helped. 

“Goodmorning.” she whispers, kissing him again. 

Lip smooths his hand along her jaw and just stares up in awe that this is what he wakes up to. That they can have moments like this, where there’s nothing else, no one else. Just them. 

He’s at peace, spending the first few minutes of his day running his hand from the nape of Charlotte’s neck to her ass as she lays on his chest and rambles about what the fuck ever. The girls at one job or the other. Something crazy V was doing. Some tv show that it was apparently a crime he hadn’t seen. 

She doesn’t try to force him to talk, knowing he’s not into talking early in the morning. He just wants her next to him. He just wants her there.

By 7:40 she’s dragging out of bed, despite his loose grip trying to pull her back into it. “Bubba, shower, you have to leave soon and I wanna have time to eat breakfast together.” she pouts. 

He raises a brow, resting his arm behind his head. “Gonna be careful this time?”

Charlotte huffs, flipping him off with her bandaged middle finger. One of three injuries she’s sustained since they now have a stove that actually gets hot. 

Lip chuckles as he watches her storm down the hallway and start jogging down the steps. “I’m rubbin’ off on you!”

“Yeah, that’s the only rubbing that’s gonna be going on around here, jerk.”

Shaking his head he actually gets up and showers. And its fuckin’ wild. There’s hot water. He doesn’t have to wait 30 minutes for it to come and hurry up and scrub before it turns cold again. He doesn’t have to call out to go first and race to get there anyway. He either goes first, because Charlotte heads in later than him or they shower together. Lip can take his time but he doesn’t because he knows there’s food downstairs. It won’t be spoiled. It won’t be stolen. Maybe a little burnt if Charlotte hurts herself again. And he doesn’t have to pretend he’s not hungry after grabbing his plate because he can see there’s not enough for his little siblings to eat. 

Maybe Charlotte’s dad was right, there’s something to be said about choosing to move on with the person you’re in love with. Maybe there’s a reason normal people move out and get married and only see their original family once or twice a year. Maybe Lip thinks he is better than someone, everyone in the fucking hood he grew up in and God or whatever else was overlording his bullshit life up until this point finally decided he deserves more. And so they gave him his fucking wife. And now all he needs to do is not fucking look back. 

So he doesn’t. He moves on. Just him and Charlotte. Aside from a few texts with Ian, who was very understanding about Lip’s new resolve to move on from their shit filled lives, he was disconnected from everything Gallagher. A full two weeks go by without him visiting their old shack of a house. Fiona never calls and the only Lip thinks to miss is the kids. 

Charlotte thought the whole situation was bullshit.

“Hey, bubba, you spoke to any of your brother’s and sister’s today?” She asks, leaning in the doorframe to their bedroom. Lip is sitting criss-crossed on the floor, using the laptop the company gave him to get some work done that he hadn’t finished earlier. He doesn’t look up from the laptop as he holds his arm out, scooting the electronic to one leg so Charlotte can sit on the other. 

She perches herself on his leg, wrapping her arm around his shoulders and leaning her head on his. “Uh nope. What do you want for dinner?”

“Hmm,” she hums, nuzzling her nose into his cheek. “For you to call your sister?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Charlotte.” 

“I know you miss them. Moving out doesn’t mean cutting ties!” 

“Yep, off.” He says, lifting her up and off his lap, placing her on the floor next to him. “It’s normal to grow up and not see your siblings every fuckin’ day, Charlotte.”

“Yes, but this is a tantrum, Phillip. There’s a difference.” She huffs, watching him put a headphone in, snatching it back out.

“I’m working.”

“We’re talking, Phillip!”

“No, you’re fuckin’ yelling.” Lip sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face. “But if you want to have a serious conversation, we could talk about your jobs.”

“Again.” Charlotte rolls her eyes, flopping back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“I mean you’re still working there so…”

“It helps, Phillip. And I like the people there.” 

“Oh my fucking god, yes,” Lip snaps the laptop closed, standing and crossing his arms. “Please, baby, tell me how much you like the limp dick perverts that come to your jobs to eyefuck you.” 

“I’m not talking about them and you know that.” Charlotte grumbles, grabbing the blanket from the bottom of the bed and tugging it over her head. “You’re being mean and I’m just trying to help you.” she muffles. 

“Fuckin’” Lip grits his teeth, taking a deep breath before sitting on the edge of the bed, resting his forehead where he knows her stomach is. “I’m sorry baby, you married a dick.”

“I know.”

“You know,” he laughs, leaning more weight on her and scoffing at her ‘oof’. “You callin’ me heavy or something?”

“It’s…like…an…elephant is stepping on me.”

“Fuck you.” he chuckles. Lip pulls lightly at the blanket. “Look at me, Bunny?” The blanket folds down and Charlotte gives him her big brown eyes, staring up at him. “Baby, I fuckin’ love that you love my family, despite the absolute shit storm that they are. But I’ve spent my life dealin’ with that shit. I’m fuckin’ tired of beggin’ and crawlin’ back to the clusterfuck I was born into. I’m fuckin’ tired, Bunny. This is the family I wanna focus on. Us, baby.”

She smiles at that, smoothing her thumb over his lips, squealing when he lightly bites the digit with his teeth. “Ow, okay, jackass. Stop being cute.”

“Where did you get that goddamn language from? Shit.”

Lip looks up from the small television as his ears hone in on the sound of Charlotte’s slippers shuffling across the wooden floor. His girl comes into view with an absent look on her face. She’d finished doing her hair, the long black silk now split into a half up half down. Her body is covered (barely) by her short, white tank top dress.

They had people over. Charlotte had insisted that Lip at least try to make friends with the guys from work if he refused to mend the bridge between him and his siblings and start hanging out with them again. After a lot of whining, nagging and actual kicking, Lip promised to invite the guys to their new house to watch the game.

The guys from work were trying to be respectful. He could give them that. Whether it be because they know about what happened with Eric or because they genuinely are trying to be his friends, as she skips into view, her thighs shining in the light from the lamp, the short dress fighting to cover her ass, they all work to fix their eyes onto the screen.

“Phillip?” she says sweetly, slipping an arm around his neck and hopping into his lap, blindly trusting him to catch her. He obviously does. 

“Yes, baby?” He tugs her dress down as he brings her legs over his so she can sit more comfortably.

“Are you hungry?” She sighs, pushing his hair back, smiling when his eyes slip closed lightly as her fingers scratch his scalp. “I’m hungry.”

“Uh, no baby, m’not hungry, but uh-”

She lets out an annoyed, high pitched whine that has Lucas’ eyes darting over briefly. Come on Luc, I fuckin’ like you, hold it down. “Are your friends hungry?”

Lip peaks around her to address them, brows raised and is quickly met with several panicked versions of ‘no thank you’ ‘I already ate’ and ‘my girlfriend will kill me if I eat without her.’ “Charlotte, just eat those leftover noodles we made earlier and when the game’s over I’ll take you somewhere.”

She huffs again before leaning in and meeting Lip in a kiss, he had never realized how noisily they kissed until they were in front of other people. When she fully pulls away to pad off into the kitchen, a final smack sounds in the room that has his cheeks reddening and his hand refraining from patting her ass like he normally would.

Charlotte moving around in the kitchen doesn’t serve as a problem. She’s not loud and seems to be perfectly satisfied just preparing her snack and chilling by herself. Lip is temporarily able to focus on the game again, talking to Noah about how it’s number 9’s retirement year and how they need this win to stay in the season. 

“Yeah, but he’s a fuckin’ idiot, they’re not goin’ anywhere.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re watchin’ Gallagher, let him make the play and…”

Lip waits for Noah to finish his argument, ready to scoff at whatever bullshit response he has but it never comes. He looks around at the other guys to see them all watching something over his head. He turns, following their gaze over to the counter. “Fuckin’ shit.”

There’s his wife, sitting on their counter with not a care in the world. Her dress riding up, the flesh of her thighs spread on the cool countertops. Her head tossed back, eyes closed, mouth open and tongue out as she slurps down the noodles as if it was the first meal she’d had in days, stopping only briefly in between to pop her fingers into her mouth to suck up the fallen droplets of broth. Jesus Christ could he even blame them? 

He hops out of his seat as fast as his legs can carry him, blocking her from his guests' view. “Charlotte, c’mon baby, what’re you doin’?”

Her brows furrow as she fixes him a confused look, she swallows the noodles in her mouth and scoops more up with the chopsticks. “What? You said I could have ‘em, you wanted some?” she offers sweetly, bringing the food to his lips.

“Why are you eating on the counter?” He whisper yells, dragging her closer to him.

“You and your friends are in the only seats, where else was I supposed to go?”

“The bed?”

“I don’t wanna get food in there!” 

“I’d have given you a seat!”

“Or you could take me to pick out more chairs.” she hums, slurping the noodles he still hadn’t accepted into her mouth, moaning dramatically as she eats them. And then it hits him. “With my paycheck. From my job.”

“You little fuckin’ brat.”

“A brat who’s getting new chairs?”

Lip points his finger in her face, pushing her forehead gently. “You’re fucking irritating.” 

“I love you too.” She chirps, hopping down off of the counter. “M’gonna let you hang out with your friends. Go see what our family is up to. You want me to bring you anything back or…?”

“Just keep your purse close.” He mumbles.

Charlotte rolls her eyes, making a big show of kissing her husband before walking out of the door.

“Thanks for coming out to meet me. I know you have to work later.” Charlotte sips her water, running her finger along the cool condensation. “I’m really sorry about what happened a couple weeks ago, Fi.”

Fiona kicks Charlotte’s leg lightly. “I told you, stop apologizin’. I don’t blame you just because you’re my prick brother’s wife. I just don’t know where that kid gets off, you know? Acting like I can’t take care of our siblings, like I always have. I raised that little asshole too.”

Charlotte fidgets in her seat at that. While she still agrees it may be good for Liam to come live with her and Phillip, she also understands why the idea would hurt Fiona. Instead of arguing with the girl she just frowns and decides to address what she came for. “I understand that it’s not all on you or anything, but, don’t you feel like it’s been a while since you guys have talked?”

“Mm, not the longest we’ve gone.” Fiona says nonchalantly, eating a couple fries.

“But, don’t you guys miss each other?”

“Look, Lottie, Lip is being a fuckin’ Gallagher. He’s got something good goin’ right now so he’s jumping ship. Logging off, taking some vacation time from the job that it is to be part of this family. We all do it. Get high and mighty when we have something good we can latch onto.” She takes a sip of her soda before crossing her arms. “He’ll be back.”

“When?” Charlotte asks, shifting forward. “I know he misses you guys. I know you guys miss him. What about the younger kids?”

“This is what they know. Gallaghers get another offer and fuckin’ dip. And then we come crawling back when we absolutely fucking tank whatever good thing we had going. And the other Gallaghers know that we have to take them back.” Fiona sighs, resting her chin in her hand. 

“But…what we have isn’t going to end.” Charlotte says. “This time…this time aren’t you guys gonna have to learn how one of you can be happy and still keep a relationship with the rest of you?”

Fiona stares at Charlotte from across the table, lips pursed. The rational side of her brain tells her it’s true. It tells her that her little shithead brother was changing and evolving. That he’s a man now, with a family, and their dynamic would have to change if they were going to stay in each other’s lives.

But the other part of her still has doubts. It knows that Lip is Monica and Frank’s son at the end of the day. He’s a Gallagher. They break what they touch. Property, promises and people. As much as she loves Charlotte, she can only think it’s a matter of time before he fucks up and she leaves or he drags her down with him. As far as Fiona was concerned, Lip was playing house, and the game had to end eventually.

“Fuckin’ nasty.” Lip sneers, dumping the collection of beers his coworkers had left in the living room. Now that he has a generally clean house, it was easier to notice when it’s dirty. Dumping the trash bag next to the counter and making a mental note to take it out before Charlotte got home and made a big deal about it before dramatically tripping over it and declaring that Lip tried to kill her, Lip pulls his phone from his pocket. She’s been gone for a while.

His stomach grumbles and he decides to text her to see if she ever got around to getting food or if she wanted him to make her something too when he fed himself. He’d have to feed her before he dragged her to bed and taught her why she shouldn’t tease him while his horny, idiot coworkers are interloping in their home. 

As he’s sending the message the doorbell rings and Lip snorts. Taking his sweet old time as he shuffles over to the door. “Oh, someone forgot their fuckin’ keys again, huh, Bunny?” He smugly cracks his neck before pulling open the door, “How’re you gonna thank me for lettin’ you in, huh?”

“I…I just really needed to see you.”

Lip’s eyes shoot open and he immediately takes a step back in shock, almost reflexively slams the door shut. 

“Wh-Mandy what the fuck?”

[tainted-liquor]

'Miss Me?⋆｡°✩

E42!Prowler Morales x ProwlerFan!BlackFem!Reader Ingredients: Sugar, kisses, n a lil bit of salt Tws: Cussing, brief abandonment, n thas it W/C: 2.4k A/N: GWENPOOL CODED READER RAAAAAAAAGHHHH

Something was wrong.

really wrong.

for the past 2 years, you’ve been following in the footsteps of New York's infamous “prowler”. He served as a symbol of fear and terror in the eyes of the public, murdering dozens and destroying whatever he could get his hands on. But to those who paid any actual attention, it was clear that there was a specific pattern to his actions that never really harmed the innocent. He took down massive corporations and spilled the blood of corrupt figures who profited off of New York's state of constant chaos and poverty. You loved to watch him run just above your reach, dodging and weaving between buildings as he chased after something like prey.

So what did you do? You decided to grow your own identity when you were 15, making your robotic pink and white suit within the cold walls of your school's long abandoned attic. You began imitating the Prowler, managing to make quite a bit of noise in terms of your presence as a ‘new villain’ within Brooklyn. Your ultimate goal was to make as much noise and garner as much attention as your beloved ‘hero’ to grab his attention. So when you were fighting off a group of businessmen in the back alley of a dark building, you stopped everything when you saw the familiar suit drop down from above and join your fight.

He said nothing, fighting in absolute silence as he helped you destabilize the last of the people you were currently combating. He gave them a rather lethal-sounding kick to the head, making sure they were all out before looking up at you and turning his head to the side. You struggled to keep your composure as the white slits on his mask narrowed and he walked closer to you, circling you slowly as he examined your shiny suit. “Oh my gosh-! Hi! This is crazy I literally love you!” You exclaimed, your voice sounding like a staticky and distorted radio. He finally looked back at your face after analyzing your suit.

“Are those my claws?” He asked, grabbing your wrist and examining the refined metal claws on your hands that were definitely inspired by him. “Yes! My gear is totally inspired by you!” You cheered, eagerly rocking your arms back and forth to refrain from trying to hug him. He hummed briefly before walking away to wherever it was he was going, disappearing without a trace. You didn’t wanna be annoying, so you waved bye watching as he seemingly jumped up a building and quickly disappeared into the shadows. You thought that would be the last interaction you’d have with him as you sped home with a smile on your face, praying to whatever god was listening that you’d be able to talk to him next time.

And DAMN, were them gods listening.

You began to see him pop up slightly more on your missions, watching as he silently helped you with your tasks, gave your suit a good look, and then left again. This became a routine for about 3 months, watching him come and go like a thief in the night. You always said your brief hello, hey, or hi to always get an upward nod or a small thumbs up. But that never stopped you from fangirling when you got home or complimenting his skills or suit. You were currently brutalizing and abusing some CEO of a big corp, kicking and kneeing him in the stomach for info regarding the exploitation of his employees when you felt a familiar presence behind you.

“Hey! Here to help me again?” You asked, throwing a sharp punch to the man’s skull before dropping him on the floor. You turn around to face the Prowler immediately, tiny hearts popping up on your holographic mask that indicate your joy as he only shakes his head. “I need you on a mission with me” he mutters, attaching a small disk-looking circle to the side of your helmet. “Wait wait really! YES! LETS FUCKING GO! Okay okay, wait.” You exclaimed, turning back to face the man you left on the floor and tying him up with a spare electrical cord you found. “Okay let’s go! I’m so excited!” You exclaim, wrapping your arms tightly around the taller boy's torso automatically.

Of course, Miles wasn’t really big on physical touch. But he let you hang around for about 3 seconds before prying you off with a tiny smile. “Aight that’s enough, c’mon. Your suit got boosters?” He asked as he prepared to dart forward out of a window. “Yours has boosters? Is that how jump so high?” You asked, earning a small sigh of irritation from Miles. He backed out of the window, swung you over his shoulder, and held on to your back tightly to make sure you wouldn't slip and splat on the concrete below. You let out a small yelp of fear as he darted out the window at seemingly impossible speeds, wind whistling in your ears as Miles's voice rang clearly through your helmet.

"The disk I put on your mask will let you hear me when I'm gone. Vice versa. I need you to knock out anyone in the control room n turn off the cameras while I reach the person we're looking for. I'll come get you when I'm done. DON'T leave the room" he instructed as you tried your best not to audibly swoon over his unfiltered voice. His tone was smooth and silky like honey, his accent sticking to his words like glue as he firmly told you exactly what to do when you arrived at your destination. Your stomach pooled with butterflies as you responded with a small "got it. By the way, your voice is really cute." There was a small huff and a low chuckle before Miles gently patted your back with his cold claw, muttering a small "thank you" that went straight through your eardrums and right to your rapidly increasing heartbeat.

And ever since that mission, you grew closer and closer. He cleaned up after all your crimes, picking up and destroying any clues you'd left behind, and keeping some as keepsakes. He'd never tell you that though, finding himself fidgeting with your purple heart-shaped sunglasses he found cleaning up another one of your messy missions. Nine months later and there you were sitting on top of a skyscraper, knees swinging back and forth childishly as you admired the lights that looked like fireflies from up so high. "Hola, Mamita. You shouldn't sit on the ledge like that. Don't know what I'd do if my favorite sidekick fell to her death" He taunted as he sat next to you, gently pulling you closer to him. "Harr-de-harr. I'm not your sidekick. You can be my crime husband though!" you exclaimed, turning your head to look at Miles as you bonked your mask with his.

He giggled at your statement, sounding genuinely joyful and flattered for a change before turning to face you again. "Yeah, aight. Fuck a crime wife, you just my wife," he stated, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and swinging your knee over his. You were thankful that he couldn't see your face, otherwise, he would've seen how your jaw dropped as you leaned your head against his shoulder. He took off one of the heavy-duty purple straps attached to his suit, gently clipping it onto your pretty pink tactile belt. He scooped you up without so much as a word, safely hauling the both of you down from the top of the skyscraper and placing you safely on your feet. "Aight, I gotta go Mamas. Keep that f'me, yeah?" He called as he quickly disappeared into the shadows again.

But that was the last time you saw him.

You carried on with your missions like usual, going 5 in a row without seeing your 'husband' or him saying some random shit in your ear. There was no "keep safe. Cops are on you" or him scolding you for being 'irresponsible' regarding your share of crime. You began to get worried, risking your life by going out fully suited when you had no reason to be, running and jumping around Brooklyn in search of your Prowler while his name slowly faded from the news. You even began to think that he got himself killed fucking around with the wrong target one day. You were scared, and you missed your 'man'.

For two whole years, you went to school every morning wondering when you'd see your beloved Prowler again. The anonymous boy you'd once fangirl over like some sick and twisted Justin Beiber suddenly faded from the face of the earth. You spoke in your mask now and again, attempting to get some type of response as you grieved the sudden disappearance of your first love. You continued as a nameless vigilante, earning a massive amount of fame and even 'replacing' the Prowler as his name withered from headlines. You quickly grew stronger, learning to clean up your mess, and became more violent when it came to dealing with criminals and small-time offenders.

The days melted together as you lost track of time, drowning yourself in your academic career and constant suit updates to take your mind off the pain in your heart. You practically sped down the highway with your newly installed 'Wheels' to your wide, chunky, metal boots. Your Purple strap flailed in the air as you darted off after an all-black tinted car, containing what was supposed to be your final victim with your identity as the infamous 'Pink Prowler'. You blasted forward with your boosters, digging a claw into the back of the black trunk and clawing your way up the car, breaking the glass windshield and pulling out a rather young-looking white guy. The car crashed abruptly, allowing you to leap to the side and get a look at the guy you were about to ask a couple of questions before you robbed him of his life.

There was a sudden static noise filling your helmet, groaning in irritation as you put your foot on the man's chest and fidgeted with the side of your mask. There was a loud thud, and the car burst into flames as a figure stood behind you…but you weren't really afraid as you slowly turned around to face the new stranger. And there he was, only taller and with longer braids as those familiar white eyes stared down at you. You quickly stomped down on the man's chest, hearing a sickening crunch and a blood-curdling scream as you turned to face your 'husband'. Everything rushed back to you like runoff as you took in his form, obsessing over every new muscle and scar as he slowly relaxed as soon as he saw you and your…new suit.

Despite the overwhelming joy and love you felt for the boy in front of you, rage built in your body as you attempted to throw punches at him, with Miles grabbing your metal-clad hands like it was nothing. "Where have you BEEN? I fucking missed you, I thought you died or some shit!" You shouted, attempting to wiggle your wrists out of his hold as he gave you a slight 'sympathetic' nod. He clicked his tongue at you disapprovingly, inching closer towards you as he pulled you into a tight hug. Part of you swore you could feel the regret pooling from his aura, but that was quickly disregarded when you heard him sigh deeply as he rested his chin on your head. "Lo siento, mi muñequita…I never meant to leave you," he muttered, patting the small of your back, allowing you to berate him as much as you wanted for abandoning you.

"I know, I know. Pero ahora esto aqui. Te extrañé, Mamita" He cooed as he gently rocked you back and forth, paying no attention to the man struggling to breathe in the grass. "That's definitely not something I taught you," He murmured, turning his head towards the stranger coughing and wheezing due to his broken ribs. "I saw you on the news every day, Muñequita. 'M sorry for disappearing on you, they was on my ass with a watch party for a couple of years. Wanna know why? Cuz I cleaned up one of YOUR messes" he sniggered, picking you up and resting you over his shoulder as he threw the man in a nearby river. You relaxed in his hold, quickly gasping when you realized that he had murdered your only source of intel. "I was supposed to question that motherfucker, puto!"

"You finally learn Spanish and it's to cuss me out? I thought you loved me…" He joked, giving you a firm squeeze to the small sliver of flesh visible on your suit, located right on your left thigh. You huffed, much to his amusement as he began walking back in the direction of the city. "I'm still mad that you left me like that. How do you abandon your work wife?" You asked, rolling your eyes underneath your mask as you struggled to keep up the 'annoyed' act. You knew you couldn't stay mad at him, and you had a feeling he knew it too. "For the last time, you're not my work-wife. You're just my wife" he stated.

You giggled quietly as you began kicking your feet back and forth slightly. "You don't even mean that for real" you muttered as you mindlessly played with his braids. Miles chuckled to himself, shaking his head in disbelief as he adjusted his arm over your back. "Oye, detente antes de que te haga. Solo di que me extrañaste" He sniggered. "In English, please?" You whined as you attempted to grab Miles's hand.

"Missed me?" He asked as he flipped you around so you could see in front of you. "Maybe…" You whispered. Miles gave a low hum, nodding his head when he got the answer he was looking for. There were about five minutes of comfortable silence as you heard his footsteps against the coarse gravel, finally feeling at peace now that you had your husband back from wherever he was. You giggled to yourself, earning a small "Hmm?" from Miles as you thought of a potentially dumb question.

"You should propose to me"

"You want me to propose to you? Aight, I gotchu mamas. Ima get you a real pretty purple ring, okay? But you gon have to fix that suit, I can't tell I inspired it no more. Need these niggas to know you my wife and sidekick"

"boy bye."

[jadedwoman]

(Aww I'd love to be a robot girl~ here's a fun fantasy scenario about it~ although a bit horror themed and definitely aggressive)

You wake up after a rough day, tired and barely remembering yesterday, stumbling out from your bedroom, you head into the living area, and there you seem me. A cute robogirl, sleek and white with purple tinting, a soft padded chest that seems to be adjustable and a similar material for my butt as well. As you look at me, I quickly turn to face you, giving a quick wave and speaking in a slightly monotone voice "hello there human! You appear surprised, does my appearance disturb you?" I ask, your expression showing how surprised you are to see a real life robot that seems to be pretty smart.

Eventually, you calm down enough to walk over, sitting at the opposite side of the table I'm at, your expression showing both your distrust and curiosity, two things I immediately pick up on. "Oh don't worry, I don't intend to harm you, well, unless you ask that of me" I respond calmly, my face a rather complex arrangement to resemble a mostly humanoid face, although my eyes merge into one screen and my mouth clearly seems designed for more lewd purposes than just speaking. "You're staring an awful lot, see something you like?" As If on cue, you suddenly see my chest quickly grow a few sizes, going from barely an A-cup to DD rapidly, their shape perfect teardrops practically begging to be touched.

Despite how you stare at me, you're still visibly anxious, twitching and stuttering with your words, my eyes looking at you curiously before I seem to decide something. "Here, allow me, I know exactly how to relax you~" before you can question what I'm planning, my screen quickly changes, becoming a pulsing array of colors, flashing into your eyes, seemingly beaming the words right into your brain. The hypnotic pattern only grows more intense when you try to turn away, wires you hadn't seen before moving to grab your head and keep you staring.

As the lights pulse and throb, you feel as your own thoughts start drifting away, the repeated words 'obey, submit, sink, serve, relax, give in' just repeating over and over again. What feels like mere seconds pass before your brain finally gives in, your vision seeming to fade as you awake to yourself in bed. Right besides you stands me, a cold hand caressing and petting your hair. Horrified, you try and push me off, but my strength proves far greater, with a scoff from my lips I lean forward and speak "now now, be a good toy and sink~" and with that, you immediately relax.

All thoughts come to a halt as you look at me, my eyes pulsing those pretty colors once more as I speak such soft words, helping you just relax and sink for me, for your new robot girl~ and with a small giggle I lean close, whispering right by your ear, a wire temptingly laying by the other as if teasing you with what's about to happen. But before it fully slides in, before you truly become mine, you hear me say "now, how may you serve me~"

[crow-caller]

Bit of an odd question, but as THE Angel person I wanted to know your thoughts.

Angels as robots/using robots as thematic parallels to angels. I feel as though that is a theme I’ve noticed growing more and more prevalent due to the shared ideas of perfection, purity, and of a creation designed only to be an extension of the will of their creator.

Have you noticed this sort of trend in discussions about angels (fictionally) and do you have thoughts?

hell yeah hell yeah hell yeah

I wish I could write a really smart and fancy reply to this. I don't have it in me.

But to me.... angels are robots! They are beings which are made only to serve. Okay, they may have some freewill in some ideas of them, but usually always with the understanding they serve the purpose of their creator. An angel is a robot, or more precisely, a gear: each has a purpose and each was Made with a purpose. And most importantly, they love it. There's a whole class of angels whose sole existence is to sing praises. Each one is an angel, and each one has lived no existence but to circle the throne and worship.

If an angel breaks though, it isn't repaired.

Angels to me are also amazing as TRAINS. Choo choo trains, you know the type. I adore that one post about them, because it's SUCH a real angel vibe (and also I autistically do in fact love trains). They are beasts with a single track, they carry a purpose and are built for it. If they go off track they are stranded, because they only have the tools to survive according to the one path they were given.

hehehehe angels. this is what good angel is about

[jordynbreeloa777]

Void Obsession & Hate?

Ok.. wow. This community sometimes really just puts the icing on the cake because.. (⚠️‼️WARNING LONG POST AHEAD‼️⚠️ )

First off, I don’t know who started spreading around that the void is the only way to manifest instantly.. because that is NO WHERE NEAR TRUE. I really think some of you guys keep putting the void on such a huge imaginary pedestal as if it’s more powerful than you. If you ASSUME that then it will. But why put unnecessary limits on yourself and your manifestation abilities. Like first off the void is JUST A METHOD. NOTHING MORE THEN THAT, NOT SOME MAGICAL PLACE WHERE THE VOID ���GRANTS YOUR WISHES” AND THAT YOU “RECEIVED YOURS DESIRES FROM THE VOID” No, and it’s getting reall weird when I hear people saying this. Even in your void success stories stop seeing it from a view as if it’s outside or you.. please. Now I understand the “hate” that many of these bloggers have for the void. So please, know about the LAW, and LOA as well as work on your SC instead of just relying solely on the void. If you want to enter the void as a way to manifest go right ahead. But stop putting it on a gold pedestal. Just know regardless of if you want to manifest using the void or not, know that you can manifest just as fast and quickly as it, as well as it’s not outside of you so of course you can enter it when you want to. There is sooo many others methods so you shouldn’t only be seeing the void as “once I get results in the 3Di will finally be fulfilled.” Like first off this is what I mean because you shouldn’t be thinking this or even entertaining this. You shouldn’t be feeling “stressed out or, once I finally enter the void I will be done with my journey.” Noo, embody the person who always easily enters the void because your the one in control with all the power. Stop letting the 3D just boss you around.. aren’t you tired? Fed up? Want change? How much longer are you just going to keep relying on the void..? Like there is so many techniques such as SATS, Lullaby, robotic affirming, askfirmations,subliminals, and states, like the list goes on. Don’t only rely on the void if it’s not serving you. You shouldn’t be feeling stressed or worn out, remember manifesting is suppose to be fun! If that method is not serving you right now, or none are, then just use states. Be the person who already has your desires! Make a list of every single thing you want. It can be 2,000 or 1 million things I don’t care. Be the person who manifest easily and quickly, you always manifest instantly! Stop overthinking, or over complicating the law! You shouldn’t be complaining, do you not know how lucky you are that people believe that have to work for what they want, work hard, they believe they are ugly and can’t change, believe money doesn’t grow on trees, believe to lose weight they have to work out and do a workout plan for 10 months straight, believe they have to diet, believe winning the lottery only happens once in a lifetime, believes love is hard to find, ECT, ECT, ECT. You guys the list goes on. You found the golden key, the law is sitting dead right smack in your face on a golden platter, YOU FOUND YOUR WAY OUT, you no longer have to be a victim to your own reality, you no longer have to have shitty circumstances that you don’t want to live in. This is YOUR wake up call. YOU CREATE, YOU CONTROL. TAKE YOUR POWER BACK AND STOP GOING BACK TO THE OLD YOU, THE OLD STORY. You know how to manifest so stop asking questions, scrolling for answers, 3D validation to validate your assumptions, and proof or evidence. Your the evidence, the yes, the blueprint, the one who decides and chooses. Happy Manifesting!💝💝

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

Curious, in this au what is Marx’s role in this story. Is he changed at all or different

I try to incorporate and mix anime & game lore in order (to try) achieve a good mix of both... (but everyone is 10 x emotional & sympathetic...)

So Marx was the last creation of N.M.E and was to be the "pièce de ré·sis·tance," a monster in the guise of a friend. Not just that, but the "perfect friend for Kirby." (Planning to take advantage of Kirby's soft heart and friendly nature.)

Similar to how they used the following monsters (Chill, Galbo, Kirby's Robot-dog, etc.), but he was never finished... the Nightmare's base was destroyed when Kirby & the townsfolk blew up the base.

Marx was just left there all alone... the only thing that survived. But he didn't know what was his purpose. And the minute he's born, all he can see are these soldiers (Star Warriors) hunting him down.

Thankfully, our friendly N.M.E Salesman saves him and tells him all about it, basically his last act of revenge against King Dedede & Kirby. And he honestly feels fulfilling his purpose is what's going to make him feel whole.

He even tells him that it was Kirby and the gang's fault he's left all along up here with no one. His beef wasn't just with Kirby but with everyone in Dreamland (but the anger is mostly towards cappies... they blew up his home).

Marx is pretty central to Kirby's stories and is one of the core reasons why he wants to become a star warrior. He does serve as one of Kirby's most loyal allies and one of Kirby's closest friends.

HEAVY SPOILER WARNING FOR (KNIGHTMARE'S END & KING DEDEDE REMPTION ARC)... Keep reading if you'd like... I'm going to water down everything and skim over some details in this explanation. And there's some art content as well)

(After the events of The Knightmare's End)

After remembering his past with Meta Knight... Kirby wanted more than anything to rekindle his relationship with his long-lost guardian. With Kirby regaining his memories it was easy for him to slip and reestablish the closeness he had with Meta Knight back when he was an infant. (He missed him so much...)

Meta Knight (on his part) was determined to make up for all the lost time, teach him everything he knew, and eager to reconnect with his boy after all those wretched years alone. He was ready to give him the world... (Basically, he spoiled him rotten for a while! XD)

Being under Meta Knight's tutelage, Kirby began to mature properly, even learning how to talk... but he taught him in a way that made him excited to learn. With each lesson, he'd weave tales from his past... which allowed Kirby to learn more about Team Halberd (their family). He'd even invite Knuckle Joe & Sircia for lessons & sparring so they could learn about their parents.

For Meta Knight, spending time with Kirby managed to heal the wounds around his heart. As for Kirby, he felt like this was what he had been missing all this life (a parental figure), someone who could always be there for him & love him no matter what. The bond they shared made each other feel less lonely, and it was one in which they helped each other grow.

But unknowingly this had consequences...

With Meta Knight reclaiming as Kirby's guardian leaves Fumu in this status of limbo. Fumu basically got everything she wanted... being free of the burden she was as the keeper of the warpstar. But she didn't know how drastically his relationship with Kirby would change.

Fumu still doesn't know Kirby overheard what she said... he just doesn't want to trouble her anymore (like she wanted). The events of the whole anime series took a toll on Kirby. (Namely, with the cappies wanting to kick him out.) He found himself staying away from town.

While everyone in Cappy town tried to make it up to Kirby... and forgave them. He never really trusted them or allowed them to get close to him like they used to. Fumu sees this and tries to remedy the situation, which backfires terribly. (Is the same thing similar to the "Kirby Takes the Cake,"- episode where he runs away.)

Fumu: Kirby this is your home, everyone lo-

Kirby: Then why doesn't it feel like home-

Fumu: Kirby but why-

Kirby: Poyo... going to Meta Knight's...

This was the moment when she realized just out of touch she was with Kirby. Bun could only watch this trainwreck... and couldn't help but be upset with Kirby turning down all his sister's party. Causing a rift between the friends. (They still didn't get it Fumu & Bun.)

This divide is made even further with the (redemption arc) of King Dedede. (Events involving Dark Matter)

Kirby forgives Dedede and now considers him a friend!? This leaves Fumu & Bun desperate to convenience him otherwise... believing him to be too trusting & too naive... But who should come to back Kirby on his decision is none other than Meta Knight!

Kirby: But he means you don't see what I-

Fumu: He's tricking you, Kirby! Like he always does...

Bun: Yeah, how many times has he pulled this "turned over a new leaf junk" on everyone!

KD: It's fine kiddo... I won't stay where I'm not wanted I'll-

Kirby: Poyo, (sees KD visually uncomfortable) but Dedede...

Fumu: Meta Knight, aren't you going to do something, stop-

Meta Knight: I stand by my pupil's decision... This is Kirby's choice... I trust him... do not overstep your boundaries, both of you!

Resulting in Kirby spending more time with Dedede & MK than with them (helping the king to better himself). The siblings want nothing to do with Dedede's betterment. Bun & Fumu... they can't help but resent Dedede but this also minimizes the time their time with Kirby.

It bothers them how increasingly chummy he's they've been getting with King Dedede. (There's also a little incident that Kirby & Meta Knight swore to keep secret for KD's sake that they two don't know about... which would have probably made them more sympathetic to King Deded, it just wasn't their (Kirby & MK) story to tell...)

In truth, Marx didn't have to do that much... he just had to expose Fumu & Bun's deepest insecurities about their friendships. With Bun being the main chess piece in it all.

(Marx's arc takes place after "Kirby and the Crystal Shards" )This is Kirby's first major adventure... without them.

Fumu bottles up her feelings... but Bun is furious and extremely jealous of King Dedede: it almost feels like they've both been replaced with the guy who tried to get rid of him before.

Causing tension from the once-knit, tight group of friends (Fumu & Bun). And the dynamic of the trio has been altered... causing the cracks in their relationship undeniable... And who should take advantage of these cracks... Marx.

Marx's major role in this arc serves to expose the cracks in the friendships he has with Fumu & Bun. And show how a pile of little problems can destroy a once-strong friend.

So, without going into detail...: Marx manages to manipulate the heck out of Bun & the other kids (the group he hangs out with in the anime) to bully Kirby, leading to the kids pranking and almost killing King Dedede.

Bun receives the brunt of the punishment and reveals his jealousy and anger at Kirby, leaving him and Fumu behind (especially after the Ripple Star saga).

This leads to Kirby calling Bun a horrible friend, resulting in "Empathic touch" being accidentally used. Bun & the kid gang are forced to see and feel what they've been doing to Kirby... even before the incident. All the times they made him feel small, left out, stupid, and different...

It's finally to revealed Fumu that Kirby heard her rant about "How she never wanted to look after Kirby..."

Everything all clicks to her now and she starts to apologize profusely. But it's far too late for that... because to Kirby... Fumu's actions lately (Marx also manipulated her into ignoring Kirby) prove it otherwise.

And they (Bun & the kid gang) feel awful (AS THEY RIGHTFULLY SHOULD!) And META KNIGHT IS ABSOLUTELY LIVID, no longer trusts Bun, and says, "I'm utterly disappointed in you..." And doesn't want him and those "gutter children" (Meta Knight) near Kirby... again...

But he (MK) apologizes to Fumu... "I'm sorry Fumu... I should have never got you involved... I will try better not to..."

Fumu: Not that's not what I wanted, Kirby- *reaches out to him*

Kirby pulled away from her, disheartened... Meta Knight trying his best to comfort Kirby... with Dedede carrying him in his arms... they both bring the poor baby home.

Marx relishes this! During this incident managed to paint himself as an absolute saint... (being the one who told MK of the bullying, warning Kirby about the car, etc.) while Bun was the evil mastermind (when in reality it was Marx).

While Marx may have been the main puppeteer, these were issues that were already beneath the surface... Marx just dug them up. (This is why this friend problem is carried into the next 2 arcs... okay back to Marx...)

Taking full advantage of Kirby's low state and doing his job as the perfect friend. And he actually manages to cheer him up! He plays with Kirby and listens to his problems (slowly accidentally gets attached and realizes how alike they are and... NONONO! Marx you've got a job to do!) But the more he spent time with Kirby the more his inner guilt grew...

A few weeks later, the game plot begins with a bit of a change.

Meta Knight is still suspicious of Marx... so rather than letting Kirby go alone to collect the stars, he goes with him (plus he's too young to travel alone.) Basically, Meta Knightmare Ultra & Kirby Milky Way Wishes combined. In short, the trip ends up being a fun father-son trip... just with them having to stop the Sun and the Moon from fighting at the end.

Meta Knight takes this as an opportunity to have him unpack the situation with Fumu & Bun. However, he doesn't give him the false hope that everything will be patched up instantly... it's going to take time and effort. And friends just sometimes (unintentionally) drift apart... especially when you're growing up... they change.

Meta Knight then reveals that he had a friend like that too and they ended up drifting apart as well... but it ended terribly (Galacta Knight). They collect all the stars (yada, yada, yada) same plot line happened, "Marx Villain reveal" but with a little twist.

When it comes time to make the wish... Nova attempts to grant the wish, but they cannot grant the wish. They tried multiple times as a result of this happened:

Nova: Are you sure this is what you want?!

Marx: OF COURSE THIS IS MY PURPOSE! MY DESTINY GRANT MY DANG WISH ALREADY YOU DAM-

Nova: That's not what you want... You don't really want this...

Marx: What are you...

Meta Knight takes this as the opportunity to fly into Nova... Basically, it was Meta Knight the one to destroy the Nova Clockwork, instead of Kirby on the Starship.

While Kirby takes on Marx... he tries to talk to Marx, but he's not having it... This is where Marx's Soul kicks in as he rages on all the while tears, are leaking from his eyes. Blaming Kirby for his failures, claiming he must have done something.

Marx constantly angrily asks, "WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!," "WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME! YOU AND YOU'RE STUPID CAPPIES ARE THE REASON I'M ALONE IN THIS WORLD! YOU DESTROYED MY HOME AND RUINED MY LIFE I HAVE NO ONE! I HAD A DESTINY! I HAD A PURPOSE, AND YOU! I WAS CREATED TO WRECK HAVC! ... so ...WHY... Why... *begins to cry* I'm supposed to hate- You and your stupid friendship... why do I feel-*

Then Kirby hits him with an "empathic touch," which shows pretty much a montage of Marx and Kirby's moments together. He pretty much shows that "he was enjoying his time with Kirby...", and "he does care for Kirby..." (Oh no did he actually want to be friends with Kirby- This wasn't so supposed to happen!?)

Kirby understands it all: feeling lost, trying hard to fit in, finding your place in the world. What happened to him after the destruction of Nightmare's base. (how he was abused by a certain someone) Kirby just felt so sorry for Marx and was oozing with empathy for him.

Kirby: It's okay Marx I forgive y-

Marx: DON'T... Don't I... I don't deserve- AAARGH!

Due to Kirby's "empathic touch," he was able to also feel how much the friendship meant to Kirby. Marx can't help but he failed on both ends... he couldn't do what he was made for and he may have just lost his first and only friend...

And just before Kirby has a chance to forgive Marx: he flees anger at himself for everything he's done. He doesn't want Kirby's forgiveness (he doesn't deserve it...), leaving behind his balancing-ball.

Marx does make a wish, however... but it's not what you think...

Once destroying the Nova Clockwork Meta Knight, rushes to console his Kirby.

Meta Knight: Kirby, are you alright-

Kirby: If had just one person in his life... maybe he wouldn't have... he could've been my friend- poyo~*starts crying* I can't hate him, I just can't... ARE ALL MY FRIENDSHIPS GOING TO AMOUNT TO THIS IN THE END... LIKE THIS!?

Meta Knight: Oh my poor boy you've been through so much-

Kirby: Am I dumb, hoping he'll come back as my friend... IT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE!?

Meta Knight: It doesn't have to... *hugs him* this friendship meant a lot to you... it helped you through a tough time * Think back on his friendship with Galacta, although it hurt him in the end, he was grateful for the good it did* it made you less lonely I think that part's worth cherishing... and I don't think you're dumb...

Kirby: Huh?

Meta Knight: After the war, I kept seeing the worst in everything... expecting the worst... to stop me from-... but it blinded me from the good as well (he's referring to Kirby) and... I fell into despair. *pats his head* I'm sorry to say this probably won't be the last something like this will happen, but...

*wipes tears with his cape*

Meta Knight says something that resonates with Kirby... and it's something he carries even to this day.

Meta Knight: So keep your eyes open and beware of the bad in the world... but also *takes Marx's ball and gives it to Kirby* hold on... hold on to the good as well... you don't have to look, just know that it's there... it'll keep you from falling...

For a while, Marx wonders galaxy... I'm not gonna reveal what he does just yet, but... the path he takes leads him back to Kirby.

One thing leads to another, and Kirby gets saved... BY MARX?! Marx tries to flee after saying Kirby, but he gets gravely injured... which forces him to have to stay put. Well, he tries to escape and is literally a feral cat the whole time. He just feels too darn guilty still about everything about Nova's Wish... and doesn't believe Kirby actually forgives him.

So, as a compromise, they let him recover in Halcandra. They cash in a favor from Magolor. Marx gets to know Magolor and basically talks about his story with Kirby. (Literally, Mags just redeemed himself recently...) This interaction makes him feel a little better... but he's still a little anxious that is until Kirby shows him his ball...

I really love Marx's story arc... I hope I didn't spoil too much there are a few secrets still hidden, but like I said this is a very watered-down version of everything hope you stick around for the full story!

Look forward to it!

[idyllcy]

clipped wings - prefect luminary analysis

It starts quiet, simple as losing focus.

Humming as the Luminary blinks out of focus at a meeting, eyes focused on the reports from the men under him. He notices it but refuses to let his mask slip, going on his day as the back of his neck grows sicker and sicker, something akin to disgust drowning in his throat as he finishes the documents, ignoring his workers as he finishes for the night, robots taking everything from him as he changes into resting clothes, bile creeping up the back of his throat as he stares at himself in the mirror. 

It's disgusting.

He's disgusting.

He stares, neck craned to the side as his eyes dig into his own, sick, sick, disgusted, nauseous. The disgust crawls up his back and snakes around his throat, forcing him to stare at himself further as he stares at what he is. He lives to serve — lives to please. He is nothing without the people around him, and he is simply a walking reflection of all those around him. He cannot interact with the anomaly out of a fear he will become one — then, then, he will become repulsive not just to himself, but to everyone else.

Then, oh then, he will become his worst nightmare.

Then, he will be bound to the chains of his role in a world he does not wish to reflect, become the ideal person in a society that he lives to please, and then, then, he will no longer know who he is. 

Perhaps that is for the better.

That way, he will not need to worry over who he is.

Yet, yet, yet, that darling painter. That young girl who had stared him in the eye so valiantly. Those bright, clean wings. Those white wings that could help her fly wherever she wished whenever she willed. That girl who was so unapologetically herself — an object without reflections of others, an object that reflected only those she loved and let in to her life. It makes him nauseous. She is what he wants to be — to be free without chains, to reflect nothing but the parts of others he wants to reflect.

He is sick.

Yet, the day ends and a new one starts, and he stuck in the same place as before, pulling himself up from his mirror, staring at his reflection, at the reflection of those around him as he stares through himself, and he closes his eyes.

He does not have the luxury of such simple things. He is not a child anymore. 

He swallows the disgust in his throat, and he is back to the beginning.

It ends quiet, complex as his role in the narrative.

[tobiasdrake]

Can you make something out of the Manga panel where (Future) Android 18 gets mad over video games? Or Android 18 in general, like how she uses a fighting stance like Krillin's in the Buu Saga, and the kienzan on "Mighty Mask"? Or breaking Vegeta's arm?Just, a general Android 18(maybe plus 17, or about her relationship with Krillin) character and fighting analysis?

Oh, yeah, 18 is great. What makes the Twins stand out both as antagonists and characters is that they're a stark departure from everything we've come to know in Dragon Ball. Neither martial artists nor warriors, they're children at play gifted unimaginable power without an ounce of discipline behind it.

This gives them a sort of universal appeal for an audience. It's fun to watch them wreak havoc with their play, but equally fun to watch them grow and develop as characters. The Twins came into this world with a wealth of potential.

18 often gets labeled as the serious one of the pair due to her stern disapproval or boredom over 17's antics. But it needs to be noted that she's every bit as playful as he is. They just have different ideas for how they want to play.

17 likes to savor his entertainment while 18 likes to binge. They're both childish - in personality, I need to note, as that's Future 17 and 18 up there who've been around for twenty more years than their present counterparts. Their actual ages are never stated.

And they take turns ribbing each other for their respective immaturities.

I've always loved how 18's complaint here is that 17's behavior is unbecoming of a robot. She's just like, "Oh, male sentiments; Your human base is showing, bro." Though she does also ping him with some straight-up Boomer Humor.

It was the 80's.

To be fair, she's right. Like. I cannot stress enough that 17's plan for finding Goku is to drive around the world aimlessly until a Goku appears before him.

Or that 18, despite her pretense of being above petty humanity, is snooty and posh.

Did she come from wealth?

Did Gero kidnap rich kids? Are they the children of some higher-up in the RRA? Or is she just aggressively city? She has some opinions about rural life that you don't usually expect from an orphan or runaway or whatever the Twins were before Gero found them. 18 is inexplicably classist.

Though 18 did say ACAB so she's not all bad. Two whole pages of the manga are just 18 fucking up some cops.

Nonetheless, this is how you know she loves Krillin. Living on the Muten-Roshi's island in the ass crack of nowhere is a sacrifice.

18's fight with Vegeta fresh out of the lab serves as our introduction to the Twins as fighters. The main element this fight focuses on is how... unflappable the Infinite Energy models are. We see Vegeta's attacks mess 18 up a bit.

But the emphasis is on how cool-headed and robotic she is. She's taking hits, but she doesn't act like she's taking hits.

This is another one of those lines that Viz didn't quite translate well, as it's easy to take to mean that he's failed to do any damage to her at all. Which is visibly not true. Rather, he's saying she's not acting hurt; He got a good hit in on her but she's brushing it off as if she were still in pristine condition.

18 simply doesn't react to damage.

In Fighting Game terminology, 18 has Super Armor. She and Vegeta are evenly matched but her physiology, as a bio-machine powered by an Infinite Energy generator, is a world apart from Vegeta's.

Notably, a breakdown of all of the androids on a title page indicates that 18 is weaker than 17.

This was published at the start of 17's fight with Piccolo, so I assume the purpose behind it was to explain why 17 is evenly matched with the reborn Nameless Namekian when 18 was evenly matched with Vegeta earlier.

That or sexism. It's shonen. You can never discount that as a possibility, and 18 is one of like five prominent female characters in this entire manga - and the only one ever to be able to throw punches at a Super Saiyan level.

In terms of technique, the Twins have little martial arts knowledge or ki manipulation experience to draw from. They're amateurs fighting at an advanced level. More than that, they just woke up into this power yesterday.

So while they are capable of learning to draw energy from their generators and use it like ki, as seen from their Future counterparts, the Androids of the present haven't had a chance to learn that. They never use a single ki attack in the entire Cell arc. They understand what it is, they're never confused when others shoot ki at them, but they don't know how to do it themselves. They haven't had time to learn.

This is what makes 17's force field in his fight with Piccolo so shocking.

It's also notably drawn to not look like a ki barrier or something. The crackle of lightning around it and the mechanical "VNNNNN" sound effect gives it the aesthetic of some sort of electric field. It is nonetheless likely powered by his Infinite Energy generator; I think this is what gave DBS the idea to make his whole powerset lightning based.

For the present, the Twins are pretty basic fighters in terms of technique. They're what you'd expect of random kids with lots of power plugged into them. They punch and they kick. But their intense power and limitless stamina makes them very good at punching and kicking.

It's a shame Goku never got to fight them. I'd love to see what he makes of their style.

In addition to that fight setting up the Twins' fighting style, the end of 18's fight with Vegeta (and 17's subsequent shitstomp of everyone not Vegeta) also demonstrates our first glimpse into what makes these Twins different from their Future counterparts.

They aren't interested in killing anyone. It's not super clear why that is. "Something something Cell something something butterfly effect" is the general explanation for all the retcons. This is what sets into motion the idea that maybe the two of them don't have to die. Maybe they can coexist with all the other amoral big-personality super-warriors on Earth.

A hill that Krillin will absolutely die on even if nobody else believes in it.

IIRC Akira Toriyama has stated in interview that he likes for romances to happen offscreen because he doesn't feel he's very good at writing them. So he just. Doesn't.

In my opinion, this is what makes his romances some of the best in shonen. Dragon Ball doesn't waste time getting to the relationship, instead preferring to enjoy being in it. Toriyama gives us this:

As an aside, the way Yamcha leaps to retaliatory violence because a woman rejected his bro has always read as a major YIKES to me but I digress.

But then she sees Shenron, comes back out of curiosity, and overhears Krillin spending a wish from a magical wish-granting dragon to help her and 17 live more comfortable lives despite her rejection.

And we get a second, more conflicted departure.

And then seven years later:

You can see the appeal of Toriyama's approach to romance here. Like. If you're great at writing romance, all power to you. But if you know romance isn't your thing? As a Not Writing Romance romance, this is great. All the pieces you need to understand how this happened are there.

This is probably the best Not Writing Romance of Toriyama's career. And it gives 18 an inroad into the 25th Tenkaichi Budokai. Despite 17 being expressly the stronger, 18 features in both the first and last fights that the Twins are ever given.

While the tournament's ending is predominately a bit of a goof that 18 dominates, we do get a legitimate fight for her. It's not much of a fight, as she throws down with Mighty Mask, who is Goten and Trunks in a trenchcoat. But it does show how she's evolved into a martial artist, as the 18 of the present demonstrates the first ki attack she's ever done on-panel.

Future 18 also learned how to manipulate ki, but that was primarily done through your standard ki blasts. Lots of them when she's mad at video games. (Felt.)

But this moment implies a lot about her relationship with Krillin. 18 hasn't just figured out how to use ki; She's been studying martial arts with him. In this moment, 18 realizes that Goten and Trunks are too strong to tackle head on.

But unlike any fight the Twins have ever been in before, she has an answer to that. She's taken Krillin's style as her own and learned a better understanding of how to be a martial artist. She has Krillin's signature Kienzan under her belt, as well as remarkable control over it to only cut the costume like that.

And more to the point, she has learned how to fight as an underdog. Faced with the power that the boys possess, 18 cuts the knot. She doesn't have to beat them; She only has to make them lose.

And then that just leaves the true champion and greatest adversary 18 will ever face, the legendary Mr. Satan.

She does not win the tournament but she has the trophy in her possession. Bulma would be so proud.

It's funny to me that this begins a tradition of throwing fights in the ring to Mr. Satan after giving the other matches everything they've got. The progenitor of that tradition was an act of flagrant blackmail. Really goes to show how bad Goku remains to this day at reading dishonesty. Innocent to a fault, that man.

18 doesn't get to be involved in the stuff with Majin Buu. But she's never been a character who'd want to be. She doesn't care about fighting and defeating monsters and stuff. She's only ever been looking for a good time.

The series leaves her off in a place where we can feel confident that she's found what she was missing. She has a family that she genuinely seems to love, a relationship built on mutual respect and tenderness, and a fuckton of blackmail money to finally return to her apparently high-class roots?

She had to took a long and weird-ass van ride through the backwoods to get here, but she's gonna be alright.

[theendisneat]

Left Behind [When Immortals Die]

Characters: Zhongli, Venti, Xiao, Scaramouche

Warnings: Hurt/no comfort, angst, death, self destructive tendencies

Word Count: 984

Zhongli

His mind was growing unstable, you knew. Though you were in the prime of your life, he was ending.

It was painful to watch. Sometimes you would get home to see his head resting against the table, his hands cupping his face as he breathed heavily. You would come up behind him and rest your hands on his shoulders, coaxing him to lift his head, but when he did, his eyes would be glazed, a more robotic tilt to his movement.

Sometimes it was more violent. Sometimes his draconic side couldn't decipher who you were and would lash out at you. It was never enough to warrant anything more than a band-aid, but Zhongli would have silent tears run down his face as he leaned his head on your shoulder, whispering exhausted apologies.

It was when he was little more than a shell that he told you he wouldn't see past today's sunrise. You cried over him, whispering desperately for him to stay, to tell you stories of the archon days and of Liyue's prospering; To help you make tea because you were so terrible, and to hold you against his chest.

A strange sight it was to see your once proud lover turn to something finer than sand, something so fine it fell through your fingers. The wind carried it out the open window, perhaps a last act from an old friend.

You were left sobbing on the bed, a gaping hole that your lover left behind, clutching the bed sheets as you tried to hold in your screams.

Venti

His voice faded out, never singing, never waxing purple prose poetry, never loudly cheering as he drank copious amounts of wine. It was disheartened to serve Venti do downtrodden, so silent and waiting.

His body went slower than his words, but soon, he could no longer fly. He never danced among the clouds, or played in small whirlwinds that curled around him like a comforting breeze. In fact, wind rarely blew around him at all, the air often stagnant throughout the lands now.

Many days were spent with Venti resting against your chest, his head laying limply on your shoulder, under the shade of Vanessa’s tree. His scratched voice would mutter out a simple request, a request for you to sing to him as he laid with little strength in his limbs.

It was this day that, under your very palms, you could feel Venti’s body slowly dissolve into pure wind. You cried as you sang, doing your best not to let the tears and choked voice inhibit what would be his final song with you.

As you finished the song, your arms fell limply in your lap, no longer holding the person you loved more than anything. You took gasping breaths, a fuzzy feeling invading your head as a part of you wished you could forget this ever happened.

Xiao

"Xiao, please. Can't you rest for just a moment?"

You held the crook of his elbow gently, stopping him from disappearing off onto the night once more, a worried gleam in your eyes. Your gaze raked his body, seeing the dark red spots that invaded his skin like a disease. They were growing rapidly as Xiao took on more and more duty, especially after Rex Lapis' passing, and acquired ridiculous amounts of karma.

It was staining his body with its accumulation, poisoning him from the inside-out, and it hurt you to witness it. Despite your warnings and wishes, Xiao never took any breaks, never rested for even a second. It destroyed your relationship just as it destroyed his body.

But you were determined to stay by him, loving him, caring for him. In this moment, he looked back into your scared, yet loving eyes with uncertainty and determination.

"I'll only be gone for a few hours." He murmured, in what he hoped was a comforting tone. "I'll even… join you in bed tonight, okay?"

Hesitantly you released his arm, your gut screaming against it, but you didn't want to push him too far. "Okay."

He vanished in a cloud of green and black, and it was the last you ever saw him.

Scaramouche

Cracks were littered across his body, you could see them in the early morning glow on the rare occasion you woke up before him. They traveled along his neck, and arms, and legs, and there were a few, impossible to see if you weren't looking, on his supple cheeks.

He didn't like to talk about them, didn't like the idea that something as crude as his body was holding him back from the greatness he knew he could achieve.

You tried to push him away from his pursuit of the gnosis, not in malicious, believing that he couldn't do it, but out of fear that he would finally destroy the past of his physical self.

He showed it to you in private, the small chess piece that gave the status of an archon, the tiny object that would give your lover his ascension to godhood. It was beautiful no doubt, but the manic look in Scaramouche's eyes terrified you. It was a hunger and yearning that you couldn't understand, but as he held it, a piece of his skin cracked and fell.

You gasped but he was too enthralled to notice and he asked you to watch him place his prize within his chest. You begged him not to, but it seemed you were just a spectator now, as Scaramouche placed the gnosis in the spot where his heart should be.

For a moment, everything was quiet. For a moment, you fooled yourself into thinking everything was okay. But those cracks moved rapidly, crawling across Scaramouche's skin like thin, all encompassing vines.

You screamed but it didn't shake the content smile on Scaramouche's face as he broke to pieces, each one shattering on the wooden floors like glass.

[icycoldninja]

Heyy how have you been? Hope everything has been going well for you!! I wanted to ask if you're able to write a Raiden X reader fic where reader comes home after a tough day at work. Wanting to unwind and relax with him, it could be fluff or whatever you want to put it! I enjoy reading what you put out here🥹🥹❤️

Sup? Thanks for your well-wishing--everything has been going well for me. I got FFVII Rebirth and am now obsessed with playing it, so I might be a little inactive for a few weeks, but don't worry, I'm still writing whenever I have time and am glad to write requests like these. I mean, come on, the concept's so cute! (I chose to write about MGR:R Raiden if that's OK with you) Thanks so much for reading, and please enjoy.

Chilling out (MGR:R!Raiden x Reader fluff)

Today had to have been one of the worst work days of you life. Your boss, who was a cranky, stingy old man to begin with, had come to work more irritated than usual. It was like he'd not only gotten up on the wrong side of the bed, but also gotten yelled at by his wife and badgered by his kids not long after.

He'd chewed out nearly everyone in your office, but seemed to be directing the brunt of his anger to you. You tried to ignore him at first, but eventually, the constant screaming and whining became too much for you. You decided to clock out early, not really caring whether or not he fired you for it--he probably wouldn't, though, given that you were one of the few hard working employees he had left.

The moment you set your foot through the door, you felt like your soul had left your body; the calm air you had put on dissipating and leaving you more exhausted and drained than you ever thought was physically possible.

"Hey, babe, welcome back." You heard the clanking of metal feet against wooden floor as Raiden, your 80% robot boyfriend, stalked up to you. "Yeah, I'm back," You sighed, setting your bags on the floor and stumbling into Raiden's outstretched arms. "You tired?" He asked, squeezing you gently, yet firmly, with his metallic limbs. "Mmhmm," You grumbled, feeling your eyelids grow heavy and lower involuntarily. "Wanna nap?" You shook your head wearily; if you took a nap now, you'd never get to sleep tonight. "Then...why don'tcha go sit on the couch and we'll watch a movie or something?" You nodded sleepily, sluggishly making your way over to the couch and collapsing onto it. Raiden followed you, sitting down on the seat next to you and picking up the remote from the coffee table.

"Got any idea what you wanna watch?" You shook your head, resting your head against the armrest. "I'll pick something then."

After a few moments of quietly scrolling through a random streaming service, Raiden settled on some kind of crime-drama and pressed play on the first episode. While the show was interesting, you weren't really invested in it. Your mind was clouded with exhaustion; your body longed for rest, but you were too stubborn to let sleep claim you.

As you struggled to keep your eyes open, you decided to slide over to Raiden and place your head on his cold metal body, which hopefully would help keep the drowsiness at bay. This plan backfired, unfortunately; the soft rumbling of the machinery within was comforting and only served to lull you to sleep faster. Before you knew it, your eyes slid shut, and try as you might, there was no fighting sleep's vise-like hold.

After the first episode ended, Raiden's gaze drifted down to your slumbering form laying on his torso. Smiling, he ran his clawed hand carefully through your hair and down your back, chuckling softly to himself as he did so. He knew he should wake you up or you'd be too energetized to sleep, but you were so adorable--surely a few minutes wouldn't hurt, would it?

"Sweet dreams, precious," Raiden whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "I love ya."