#THE GLASSES ON RAT I CAN'T

[keferon]

Imagine you're in the world of Transformers. Imagine you woke up randomly in the med bay and you're a giant robot.

You don't know which version of Transformers this is, the movies or the TV series or the comics? You don't know.

But you need to pick a faction and join it right now.

[chaos-has-theories]

I FINALLY read The Unwanted Guest yesterday! And by "read" I mean "did a reading", I got to do Ianthe, none if us had read the script beforehand, and we randomly improvised with chairs to follow the scene instructions, it was absolutely glorious.

ANYWAY. I cannot decide what is hotter: Palamedes in his terrible half-burnt suit and the cigarette he doesn't know why he's holding, or Ianthe with her maid/butler routine.

Believe me, no one is more horrified to realize this than me.

[brighten-the-rainy-day]

Hanging out with my nephews.

[4toldbygyromancy]

they don't look like anything to him right now

[sphericat]

what a perfectly fine glass of milk:)

[becca-alexa]

for the love of god don't ever think you're doing somebody a favor by taking off their glasses while they sleep

[s1mpl3sp0ng3]

i want to crawl into a hole and not come out for 50 years

[arolesbianism]

The amount of times I've started a new post and simply typed "Olivia Broussard" and then deleted it is frankly embarrassing I can't take this anymore can everyone I've ever met just start being obsessed with this sad divorced woman too

[eazy-peazy54]

EVERY. DAMN. PASSCODE. FOR THISISNOTAWEBSITEDOTCOM.COM:

Will update when i find more!! (updates VERY frequently)

everything in bold+italics needs to be spammed for the full effect

Dipper  Mabel Wendy Soos Bill Cipher Bill cipher Pacifica Gravity Falls Robbie GideonStanley Stan Stanford Ford Sixer Mcgucket Hectoring Pinata Rat Divorce Breakup Weird  Alex Hirsch Matpat Giffany  Pines Sorry Skeleton Math Mystery shack Mystery Lies Tad strange Book of bill God One eyed king Blanchin Boyfriend Curse Wittebane Euclid Euclydia Peak  Platinum Paz Fuck  Shit Glass Shard Beach Theory Cray cray Ad Astra Per Aspera Im still on your mind Vallis Cineris  Help me Theraprism Triangle Weirdmageddon Blind eye Dorito Deer teeth Baby bill Baby LALALALALA Journal 1 Journal 2 Journal 3 Blendin History Filbrick Love FBI Waddles Reality Universe Portal T J Eckleburg Season 1 Season 2 Season 3 Cursed Scary Abuelita Gun Disney Mickey Mouse Caryn Cryptogram codex Ducktective Toby Determined Irregular Booberry Horror Creepypasta Seven eyes Yes Trigonometry Torture mentally Xyler Craz Tantrum Justblendin Black sheep Baaaa Monster Titans blood Life Death Skibidi Fortnite Gyatt Who are you Fixinit1 R34lity Love ya bro Conspiracy Dippy Fresh Disco girl Liar Lyre Harold's Ramblings Union Made 29121239168518 Grebley hemberdreck 3466554 Tinsel snake XGQRTHX 333 sundapple lane cozy creek IL 60714-94611 naitsuaf mountain don't axolotl morality well well well being Burnside Creepypasta Family matters Forget the past Nothing Something Hey nerd Even his lies are lies Riddle No LLIB When will I die Elon Clone Multilevel mark Goodnight Sally Paper jam Tyrone Fordtramarine Tourist trap Mason The duchess approves shape Scalene Scientology Meow Shave Your Grandma Nacho Rizz Crypto Sevral times Easter Egg Oh yes they both Oroborous Suck it Merlin Just fit in Daddy Mommy Burned Inside Kings of new jersey Destruction is a form of creation They'll see They'll all see I see Unreality Rubberhose You can't kill an idea Card Scrimbles Am i blanchin Fuck Alex Fuck you Alex Fuck you (im not cursing out alex i prommy, these are deadass codes) Hotxolotl Bye gold Ciphertology NSA Globnar Disneyland Rehpic Kook Kubrick Not a phase Paper is book skin Virus Spookemups That's just a You're insane Owl trowel L is real 2401 NFT Question Answer  Occurremus iterum Frilliam Butternubbins Dispense My Treat Dionarap Stod eht tcennoc History Hologram The gun Marry me

Which religion is right

[gravegoer]

possible royal au with sevika?? her as a knight, bodyguard.. etc .. ����

also you are lowkey THE sevika writer ..

Royal Blood — 🜲

thank you, anon. i appreciate that ! also, i might make this a series (send in an ask if you are interested) summary: sevika might have a little crush, but it's so immoral— i mean, you're a royal !! also i dont use any physical descriptions in ANY of my stories unless specifically mentioned i have 20 asks in my inbox atm and i promise im getting to them (esp pirate ones) masterlist

Your parents hired you a guard despite your constant complaints. You didn't need a man to watch over you in place of them. It wasn't your fault they could never be home for you.

You are the princess, so you needed to be put in line, no more walking out alone at night, no more hanging out with friends at bars, etc. Your parents wanted to put a stop to it all.

When you were introduced to your bodyguard, it was a pleasant suprise that she was a woman. Sevika. She had dark scarred skin, a showcase of her past on her body, and a prosthetic metal arm that caught your eye immediately. But that didnt mean you liked having a bodyguard any more than you did before.

And as always, your parents planned to leave for weeks on "business" having Sevika watch over you in the mostly empty castle.

Although your parents ordered you not to step foot out of the castle, you needed fresh air badly. Opening the windows to let the breeze in was no longer enough to satisfy you. You felt like a rat trapped in a cage that desperately needed to escape.

It was the late hours of night when you decided that Sevika would most definitely be asleep, giving you the opening to sneak out. You didn't bother to change out of your ruffled night gown and sleep tights before stepping out into the hall. Your feet that were covered with thin fabric protested the coldness of the tile as you continued down the west wing.

It was definitely chillier than your warm room. goosebumps littered your arms before you attempted to rub them away. The moonlight cascaded in a film over your body, peeking through the many windows in the hall.

You turned, curiously, to the window, and the stars illuminated your irises. Putting your hands to the glass you peered at the garden, fireflies were swarming the flowers and fluttered around the fountain. You smile at the sight and suddenly become more enthusiastic about your trip.

Your excitement was soon interrupted by a husky (but loud) voice, "And where do you suppose you're going, princess?"

"I told you not to call me that," You frowned and turned away from the window to see Sevika approaching you with crossed arms.

Her heavy boots thudded on the tile, contrasting with your daintly socked feet. She stopped in front of you to look you up and down, "What? Were you in a rush to sneak out and didn't dress for the weather?" She teased.

You shook your head and looked away, "No, i wasn't sneaking anywhere.. I just wanted to get some air."

"Crack a window, princess." She directly ignored your previous order, "I can't let you leave until your parents return."

You scoffed at her strictness, "I just want to take a walk in my own garden. Can't you spare me that much?"

"What your parents say goes, now don't argue with me."

"This isn't your job—" You instantly start to argue, "Your job is to protect me not to control me!"

"You're wrong there," She stepped closer to you. "My job is to protect you and control you. Your parents ordered me to do so, so that's what I intend to do."

At that, you got angry, "Would you please just be lenient? All I ask is for a walk."

She ran a thick finger over the crease between her brows, and you took notice of the dark circles under her eyes.

"You can't just do whatever you want. You have responsibilities, and one of those responsibilities is to abide by the rules."

You scoffed and started back to your room before she added, "And tomorrow morning, I want you in my sight, no more funny business."

Leaving her without any confirmation, you slipped back into your room and slammed the door, throwing yourself back into bed. You grumbled to yourself about how this castle is a prison and buried your face into the pillows.

For the next hour, you were tossing and turning and eventually pacing around your room. Looking at the clock, it read: 12 AM.

Fuck you needed to get out.

Going on your second attempt to sneak out, you creaked the door open, slower than the first time. You were immediately met with a dark form standing outside your door.

Sevika.

She caught sight of you through the small crack, gaze cold, and confused. She raised an eyebrow, and you saw her eyes rake down your body before quickly darting back up.

"Again?"

"Why are you at my door," You huffed, now opening it fully as she had already caught you.

"I'm on duty," She stated bluntly.

"No, you just want to catch me leaving my room."

"That's called being on duty, Princess."

You ran a hand down your face, feeling the pieces of stray hair that stuck to your cheeks and brushing them away.

"Sevika, I can't sleep," you admitted, although reluctantly.

"I'll grab you a blanket or a cup of water?" She suggested while tilting her head.

"No, I have all of that. I just feel so alone here without my parents," You leaned against the doorframe, now being sincere with her.

She was caught off guard by your honesty and cleared her throat, "I'm sorry— I mean about the whole.. situation you're in"

The only reason you messed around outside the castle and refused to follow the rules is to forget about the emptyness of your own home. Sevika was beginning to realize this.

"Can you help me fall asleep," You stated, catching her off guard once again.

"Miss, I dont think thats appropriate"

You laughed at her instantly, pulling out the formalities when she got embarrassed. "Please, this is an order from your princess."

Her eyes widened at the tone in your voice and the way you looked at her when you pleaded for her company. Finally relenting, she swallowed the lump in her throat and slowly stepped into your room past you.

Your room was most definitely large, with a king-sized bed in the middle, covered with pillows and expensive silks. There was a large curtained window facing your bed that let some light through. She didn't even hear you shut the door behind her before you stepped past her, and ran to flop into your bed.

She eyed the way your nightgown lifted a bit when you jumped up but quickly cleared her thoughts. She stood stifly in the middle of your room before you sat up to pat the spot beside you.

It was hard not to stare at the way your skin tone contrasted the sheets while she walked up to you and sat beside you. (Moreso on the edge).

You chuckled at her nervousness of being in your room and scooted up to the top of your bed, feet behind her back.

"C'mon, get comfortable," you tapped her with your foot, "I didn't invite you in to make you guard my bedside"

She scoffed, and you moved your legs, planting your feet flat on your bed to make room for her to scoot back. She did so enough for you to be able to see the side of her face. There was a flicker of something unreadable in her expression when she looked over at you, eyeing the way you were displayed for her.

Ignoring her expression, you sat your legs in her lap and scooted down so that your butt was pressed against the side of her thigh. Your head was nuzzled comfortably in the pillows and you sighed at her warmness.

"Tell me a story."

You could see her expression, but you would like to imagine her face was flushed and embarrassed. But unbeknownst to you she was looking down at you with a smirk, knowing you couldnt see her face.

Of course, it felt wrong to have the princess splayed out on her bed in front of her, soft legs over hers and hands behind her head, but what could Sevika do, she wasnt invincible.

For a few minutes, she was caught up in a story about something that you thought was dumb. Talking about the woman she served before you, and obviously, you didn't care. You were more entranced with the way her toned thighs felt against the back of yours and the way her calloused hand brushed over your knee.

You had contemplated her attractiveness in the past but opted not to act on your desires, as she seemed very adamant about being professional. You couldn't ruin that for her.

Although tonight, she wasn't denying any of your actions.

You interrupted her story by sitting up, "Mmm, I feel tired already.. Or maybe that's the bordem."

You mumbled that last part.

"Okay, what more could I possibly do," Her grip on your knee got more intense.

You scooted forward, now sitting in her lap, "Just shut up and let me sleep."

You leaned into her.

This was a really bad idea. Sevika thought to herself, hands now hovering over you, not knowing what to do. She almost pushed you away but stopped herself upon feeling you snuggle closer into her chest.

She hoped you couldn't hear her heart thumping against her ribcage. To add to her already racing thoughts, she couldn't even fathom how your parents would react to this.

She would be fired immediately.

Yeah.

This needs to end.

You looked up at her, wondering why you didn't feel the pressure of her hands on your body. Her face was contemplative, eyes locked into a random spot in your room.

You spoke, just above a whisper, "I need this, Sevika."

Fuck your parents.

She wrapped her arm that was closest to your knees around your body to the back of your neck, holding you to her. Her thumb brushed against your cheek comfortingly.

She didn't exactly know what it was like to be in your position, but she knew she wouldn't like it. Her metal arm was wrapped around your back, hand softly on your hip. You could almost feel the coldness through your nightgown, but you barely minded. Her face was pressed into the top of your head, inhaling your scent.

From this night on, she was no longer just your protector, but also your caretaker. She told herself she would be there for you at any moment of need.

Sevika no longer needed to suppress her feelings of want towards you, and this was all the comformation she needed that you felt the same way.

its a bit short but im having the most insane writers block right now, i have so many stories i want to complete that i end up doing none of them... whoops.. but asks are still open it might just take longer

[vmlnrzmp4]

𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦.

no cw, just domestic bliss<3 for reference, she's making kheer: a famous south asian dessert. you can call it a pudding. this is me y'all. i think the "banned from kitchen" girlies deserve representation. without further ado, enjoy<3

itoshi sae

"it stings...!" you mumble a complain as sae applies the burn-cream to your thumb and index finger. he calls you a dumbass for even stepping into the kitchen.

"sae," you call softly trying to gain his attention. he ignores, too busy tending your wounds. "sae," you call again. and after a long pause, he hums.

"what?"

"can you atleast taste what i made?"

he looks up at you, blowing air from his mouth to your booboo, the coolness easing the pain a little. "you sure it's not poison?"

"no promises."

he stares at you for a moment. sighing, he reaches for the spoon, taking a bit—just a little bite, "what did you put in this?" he asks, "is this supposed to be salty?"

oh the horror! "what?"

"it's salty."

you take the spoon from him, tasting it too, gagging at the bitterness. "i may or may not have added salt instead of sugar."

"you," he snaps his finger at you, "stay out of the kitchen."

itoshi rin

"hot hot hot!" you say, the burning spoonful of kheer still in your mouth.

"here," rin quickly passes you a bottle of cold water as you wash it down, "don't choke on it." his brows furrow, "is this supposed to be that watery and oily?"

"it's not oil. i used ghee," you say, showing him the container, "it's butter. but fancier." he examines it in his hand, reading the label and notes. you take another gulp of the cold water, "my tongue feels numb now."

he takes a spoonful, seeing how it runs down from the sides like water, "what were you trying to do?"

you sigh. big big sigh as you ramble, "i tried making this. i know i shouldn't even step into the kitchen but, i just felt like yes i can do it like it's the easiest thing i can make cause my cousin made it back in india and she sent me a picture of it and it looked so simple and i—"

"it's fine," he cuts you off, "leave it to me next time."

isagi yoichi

"here you go," you say, placing the bowl in front of him, along with a spoon and a forced smile.

he chuckles nervously, taking the spoon from you, "is this...soup?"

"no!" you correct, "it's kheer, even fancier!"

he hums, taking in a spoonful while you wait expectantly.

he coughs. loudly.

looking up at you he sees the horror in your eyes—he feels guilty as he sees the messy apron, hair that was messily put up in a bun and a little something on your cheek too—you worked hard on it.

"it's...not bad."

you let out the most heart wrenching sigh, "it's ok yo-chan," you plop yourself beside him, your forehead bangs on the table, "you don't need to lie."

"oh y/n..." he reaches for you, soothing your forehead that you just abused on the table, "it's not bad, really. it's just...a little too sweet for my liking. maybe we can fix it together?"

you look at him with puppy-dog eyes, yet fully of hope, "together?"

"together."

michael kaiser

the first thing kaiser does is plant a sweet peck on your cheek as he enters the kitchen, pointing at the apron you wore that says kiss the chef.

"what's cooking?"

you simply point at the cook-book that was open. he raises an eyebrow, then adjusts the glasses resting on his forehead, pushing them down to eye level as he inspects the recipe.

"aaaand all done!" you say happily. but the horror in kaiser's eyes when you were pouring the kheer into a bowl—it was like you were a maniac mixing chemicals to feed the lab rats.

"here," you hand him the spoon, "mihya, i want you to be the first one to try it."

he gulps in fear, "if that's what you want angel..."

aftermath.

he wouldn't stop laughing at you and your poor attempt to stealing a chef's job.

"i'm sorry—" he laughs, "—i'm sorry," more laugher.

"i get it. i can't cook. and i apologize for even thinking i would get appreciated. even if it's a little."

his laughter dies down slowly—still smirking as he hugs you from behind, "hey, i appreciate you loads. even if you made the most disastrous dish imaginable," he pecks your temple, "it's the thought that matters."

[marvelfilth]

Family dinner

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader, Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova, platonic!Kate Bishop x f!reader

Warnings: a very poor attempt at humour

Summary: your best friend Kate needs backup after a mishap with Yelena's family

Masterlist

“I need you here yesterday!”

“What?” You whisper-shout, looking around the office to make sure no one noticed you ducking away to take a call from your best friend.

“Please, I'm desperate! I can't do this alone, they're like sharks and I just spilled blood!”

“Kate, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Yelena's family! They're scary as shit on a good day, but now we messed up real bad, and I think they're gonna decapitate me,” she whines.

“Okay, let's backtrack. What did you do?”

“...”

“Kate?”

There's shuffling on the other side, a deep sigh and then, “Melina found the handcuffs. With the fur. They were still attached to the bed.”

You snort, loud enough to attract annoyed looks from your coworkers. “Happens to the best of-”

“And the whip. It was on the bed too.”

You chortle, this time not caring about your surroundings, and swiftly move further down the hall. “She knows Yelena's a big girl, she can ha-”

“Natasha was there too!”

You stop in your tracks. Now that's interesting.

“She'll never let you forget it,” you say with all the confidence you have, even though you've never met the woman before. You know just enough from what Kate and Yelena told you to be sure of that.

“She's not letting me forget it now! She got all sneaky and secretive, whispering with Melina and looking at me, and now I'm on my way to a family dinner. A family dinner with my girlfriend's family, while said girlfriend got called away on some emergency mission,” she huffs angrily.

“There's no emergency mission, is there?”

“There better be!”

You chuckle, shaking your head. It's never a boring day with Kate Bishop.

“So,” she starts, aiming for a nonchalant tone, “I'm downstairs.”

“What?”

“Yep. Waiting for you at the front. Better hurry, parking is expensive as hell.”

“Kate.”

“I'm your bestie. And my girlfriend's mom found the handcuffs. I need you.”

You check the time, noting that the workday is nowhere near it's end. With a sigh, you head for the elevator, not even bothering to come back for your bag.

“I love you.”

“I haven't agreed to-”

“I know what that sigh means!”

You groan. “Yeah, yeah. You owe me.”

×××

Turns out, Yelena's family is even scarier then you imagined.

“So, Y/n,” Melina starts, looking at you like you're one of her lab rats, “Do you usually leave your… sexual… stuff after you're done?”

You turn red, choking on the wine. Kate sends you a look of pity.

Natasha smirks.

“I don't… I'm not sure- Um. Well, no.”

Melina hums, nodding to herself. “Good.”

She digs into her food, and you exhale in relief, feeling like the worst part is over.

“So where do you keep your stuff, Y/n?” Natasha asks over the rim of her glass, her eyes full of mischief.

Kate slides lower in her seat, boring holes into her fork.

Melina perks up, once again regarding you like one of her subjects. “I would also like to know. To pass the advice to my daughter and her girlfriend.”

You gulp.

“Well?” Natasha prompts.

You shudder from the intensity of the look she's giving you.

“Can we move on?” Kate whispers, looking around nervously.

“Yes, of course,” Melina nods, her eyes lighting up like she was waiting for a subject change.

Natasha sends Kate an amused smile, and you relax slightly. Now the worst part is over, you're sure.

“So, Y/n-”

Fuck.

“-are you single?”

You nod, shoving a forkful of some meat salad - which mostly consists of mayonnaise - to avoid talking.

“And you're gay, correct?” Melina asks, peering into your very soul.

You nod again, chewing fast.

“Why are you gay?”

You choke on a piece of potato, wheezing and reaching for a glass of water. Kate almost falls of her chair in haste to smack you on the back. Natasha just looks at her mother, unimpressed. “Really?”

“What?” Melina shrugs. “I'm a scientist, I'm conducting research.”

The redhead groans, rubbing her eyes. “Of course.”

You feel a little better now that Natasha is annoyed.

Melina still looks at you, expecting an answer.

You sigh, “Are you gay?”

She blinks, looking like an owl. Natasha chokes on a laugh, sending you a look of appreciation. Kate mutters something about bathroom and darts out of the room, hopefully to call Yelena and fix all this mess.

“Well,” Melina starts, deep in thought. “I suppose I've never given it much of a thought.”

You nod, feeling accomplished in swaying attention from yourself.

“Natasha.” The older woman turns abruptly. “You are gay.”

The redhead groans, sliding down in her seat. “Mother, please.”

“She's gay, and you're gay. You're both miserably single.”

“Huh?” You frown, affronted.

“Fuck my life,” Natasha mumbles into the table, her face pressed tight against it in a feeble effort of disappearing.

“Yelena's on her way!” Kate walks back into the room, triumphant.

“Finally,” you sigh, pointedly looking at the ceiling to avoid Melina's penetrative gaze. “Where's she, by the way?”

“Hiding, probably,” Natasha snorts, shaking her head. “Escaped the scene of crime and left her girlfriend to pick up the mess.” She raises her glass in Kate's general direction, “You're doing good so far, Bishop. Even brought reinforcement - good thinking.”

“Yes-yes,” Melina nods, her eyes darting between you three. “Yelena's a bit of a coward in that regard, but we have an important matter to discuss.”

Natasha glares at her mother. “No, we don-”

“Natasha can cook. Well, she can microwave.”

“What did I miss?” Kate frowns, settling back into her seat. “Actually, no. I don't want to know.”

“As I was saying,” Melina clears her throat, paying no mind to the murderous look Natasha sends her. You'd feel gleeful at that - Natasha's plan came back to bite her in the ass - if you weren't the other victim in this scenario. “Natasha can cook. She's excellent with knives. She's an excellent shot. She can dismantle a bomb in a matter of seconds. She's a… a catch.”

You smile at the miserable expression on Natasha's face, her cheeks dusted with pink.

“Oh…” Kate whispers, looking at you from the corner of her eye. “Well, actually, Y/n is-” she yelps loudly when your heel connects with her toes, and turns bright red at the shooting pain. “-a bitch. She's a bitch.”

The look in Melina's eyes turns gleeful. “That was excellent.”

Fucking hell, no matter what you do, your grave turns deeper and deeper.

Natasha snorts, chugging her wine like it's water. Melina's mouth opens again, and you say a stupid thing to save yourself from further embarrassment.

“Can we go back to Kate's handcuffs, please,” you mutter with a sigh.

The look of betrayal your friend sends you doesn't work the way she intended, because you don't feel guilty at all.

Melina's mouth snaps shut, her eyes widening. The sight alone tells you you said the wrong thing.

“Have you and Kate ever-”

“No!” you both shout, before the older woman can finish the question.

“Sounds defensive,” Natasha chuckles, reaching for the bottle of vodka.

“Wha- What?” You hiss, glaring at the spy.

“She's- Y/n’s not even my type! And I'm not her type either!” Kate splutters.

“Mhm,” Natasha hums, “that I can see.”

You gape, not sure if you're supposed to be offended. “What?”

Natasha smirks, planting her chin on her fist. “You need a firm hand. Your best friend is anything, but firm.”

Her eyes trail down your body, pupils darkening ever so slightly. Your cheeks burn and, suddenly, it's hard to breathe. You clear your throat and gulp down the last of your wine, carefully avoiding her gaze.

“O-okay. That's- okay, yep,” Kate mutters to herself. “Fuck my life.”

“Am I wrong?” Natasha husks, reaching across the table to play with the golden bracelet on your wrist.

Really, right in front of her mother?

The front door opens with a loud bang, and you jump up, relieved to see Yelena. The feeling doesn't last long, because a second later you notice the bleeding wound on her torso.

“So that was an actual mission,” you mumble, missing the way Natasha snorts in your haste to get Yelena to the couch.

Kate looks pale, but swiftly starts helping Yelena undress. Melina's ready with the first aid kid by the time they finally tear off the shirt.

“So?” Natasha whispers into your ear, sending goosebumps down your skin. “Am I wrong?”

Apparently, not even her bleeding sister can stop her.

“No,” you reply, “you're not wrong.”

She hums, satisfied. “I am miserably single, you know?"

You let out a loud laugh, not even bothering to quiet down when Yelena sends you a murderous look.

“I am miserably single, too.”

She smiles, nodding to herself.

“Want to fix that?” She asks after a bit, her eyes glinting in the soft evening light.

“They'll never shut up about it,” you groan, stepping closer to her.

“Yeah,” she hums, her grin stretching wider. “So?”

"A little help?" Yelena wheezes, glaring daggers at the two of you. "Hello? Your sister is dying."

“Yes,” you reply, not taking your eyes away from her green pools.

“Perfect,” she breathes, before pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I'll pick you up tomorrow at six.”

"Fucking unbelievable," Yelena mutters and yelps when Melina shushes her with a pinch and a hissed "don't ruin my hard work".

Kate just looks like she's about to faint.

You grin. "I can't wait."

[yawnderu]

>Simon doesn't go to clubs, yet he'd do anything for bimbo!reader, even if it's out of his comfort zone. Adding a small dialogue of Simon being painfully brit when drunk from this post because I still giggle about it ejhfehjb

“C'mere, baby.” Your bare feet make contact with the floor as you walk to your boyfriend, who's waiting for you on the couch, a pair of stiletto heels next to him. It's a routine you know too well, putting your feet on his lap before you even realize it while he massages your ankles, offering you a small smile.

“Make sure you don't fall.” He teases and you push him away with your feet, only making him hold them in both hands and push back until your legs are folded, getting up just to steal a kiss from you.

“You rat!” Your giggle rings across the room as you try to push him away again, yet he's too strong to even move until he feels like it, sitting back down and starting to put your heels on, making sure the straps are safely secured before he helps you get up from the couch. He still can't wrap his head around the fact that you walk around in 6-inch stiletto heels with ease, but they were on your wishlist and whatever his princess wants, she gets.

Simon doesn't do clubs. It's loud, it's crowded, and he looks just about ready to take you back home until you strut to him, a big smile on your pretty face as you pass him a third glass of bourbon. He downs it after mouthing a small ''thank you'', feeling the warmth travel down his body.

“Come dance with me, Si!” You have to scream over the music, taking his free hand before he can even think about it. He reluctantly lets you pull him to the dance floor, despite feeling so out of place. He can't resist denying you, not when you look so happy and excited to be here with him.

Your arms wrap around his neck, your body rubbing against as you dance is almost intoxicating. He looks down at you, brown eyes fully taking in the sight— your hair moving with your body as you dance and sing, a happy smile on your face before you take a sip of your pretty drink. You're the most breathtaking thing he's ever seen.

His hand goes down to your waist to support you in case you twist your ankle while wearing your pretty stilettos. He looks down at your lips for a second before his gaze locks on yours, unable to look away. Maybe it's the alcohol affecting his body, but he dares to lean down to capture your lips with his, pulling you closer and allowing your bodies to move together to the rhythm of the music. He pulls away, his hand going up to the middle of your back before he does something really stupid.

“I'm getting us more drinks!” You yell over the music, already walking away before he can stop you. He's used to drinking one or two glasses of bourbon, not four while out in a club, the flashy lights just making him dizzier. He pushes the thoughts to the back of his head, feeling your arms wrap around him from behind, taking the glass from you before you can spill it.

“Thank you.” Simon was never one for PDA, yet he's leaning down to kiss you again, his hand lingering on the small of your back for way longer than it should have. You turn around, sipping on your drink as you grind on him, too used to the clubbing scene to think about how Simon hasn't done anything like this before. Despite his stoic expression, he's actually having plenty of fun, his hand holding onto your waist to support you as you dance.

His attention is focused strictly on you. He loves how you're dancing for him and him alone. You're not dancing like this for other men or flirting with anyone— you're simply having fun with your boyfriend, and despite some of the men looking at you, you're only looking at him.

Simon lasted way longer than he thought, only making you turn around after an hour or so of dancing.

“Tired yet?” He lets your bodies sway to the generic pop song playing in the background, half-lidded eyes struggling to stay open. He drank more than he should— more than he has drank in public, and he's aware of it, yet he wants to bring you home before he's too drunk to be aware of his surroundings. You plant a small kiss on his nose now that he's laying down and he offers you a lazy grin, letting you guide him out of the club.

“Buss me a blem, love.” You raise an eyebrow at his words, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you help him walk, not wanting him to stumble around as you make your way back home. You have the route memorized, unlike him.

“A fag.” He clarifies, making you giggle nervously as you look up at him.

“Why do you want a gay m—” A stifled chuckle comes from above you, looking at the way Simon is trying to hold back his laughter. He's way too drunk for this shit.

“A cigarette, angel.” Realization hits your face as your glossy lips turn into an ''o'' shape, face lighting up when you can finally understand what he's saying.

“Don't have that either. The other one would have been easier to get...” You drag out, fumbling with the keys to your shared apartment before going inside, locking the door behind you. You go sit on the couch and Simon immediately beelines towards you, managing to sit down in front of you and attempt to undo the straps of your heels.

Was the buckle always this tiny? His fingers feel way too fucking big for the strap, yet he somehow manages, softly rubbing your feet to help ease the pain he knows you always feel after wearing them for a long time. His cheek is resting on your lap, your hand instinctively running through his short hair, massaging his scalp with your long acrylics.

“You okay, baby?” God, he could die right now. Your words are slurred, voice becoming even sweeter, your tone laced with concern. He can only manage to nod, trying his best not to fall asleep despite how comfortable your lap is. He can barely register how you get up, dragging him up by the arms— or well, trying. The bastard is way too heavy and tall for it.

“Up.” You say softly, not wanting your boyfriend to fall asleep on the couch. He grumbles before getting up, letting you make him lay down on the couch, making sure he's on his side. He didn't drink enough to throw up, but... just in case.

You disappear into the bathroom, coming up with a wet cloth and a basket full of skincare that you want to use on him. Your drunk brain is absolutely brilliant— wanting to take care of his skin while he's about to fall asleep. You steal a kiss from his lips before running the wet cloth over his face with care, wiping down all the sweat and grease on his skin.

His brown eyes focus on you as you start to massage a cool liquid all over his face, massaging it in circles with the pads of your fingers, careful not to poke him with your long nails.

“I love you.” It slips out of his lips before he can even think about it, looking away from you. You can see his Adam's apple bob up and down, anxiously waiting for something— anything. He flinches in surprise as your arms wrap around him tightly, small giggles of relief and happiness escaping your lips.

“I love you too, Si.”

Bimbo!Reader Masterlist

[syoddeye]

thank you @sergeant-angels-trashcan for the worms. another 'meat cute' with ai/android john.

strict machine anthology. cw: alcohol mention, brief mention of animal death, stalking, dual pov

the streets are always pure chaos after the rain. as soon as it clears, everyone darts out from whatever doorway or hole they took refuge in, sharing gripes with passersby about it being the third corrosive cloudburst of the week. 

you're no different, emerging from the train terminal where you watched the downpour with its citron shade kill a rat. you avoid puddles and try not to breathe too deeply—the air tastes faintly metallic, laced with the tang of ozone.

advertisements ping softly in your ears, notifying you of a discount on imported, 80% organic coffee beans and another sudden sale on corrosion-resistant umbrellas, but you ignore them. you're tired, a bit crabby, and in want of a glass of wine.

but as you round a corner, you collide with someone. not a glancing touch, but a full-body impact that sends you stumbling. a pressure wraps around your wrist, keeping you upright, and an apology automatically rushes out. then you glance up to see who you crashed into, the owner of the hand stabilizing you. and for a moment, you wonder if your eyes are on the fritz.

the stranger looks exactly like john.

not john, the ex-neighbor, or john, the guy from the deli, but your john. your constant companion. your assistant. the same build, the same beard, the same nose, mole and all. and those eyes—slate blue, steady, unmistakably familiar.

your thoughts splinter, then try to fuse together, stitching with threads of half-formed logic and possibility. you know the company maintains likeness databases, reservoirs of phenotypes sampled and recombined to endlessly generate randomized appearances for home assistants. millions of faces, shuffled and remade. the probability of one of those composites mirroring a real person exactly—an entire appearance, feature for feature—shouldn’t just be unlikely. it should be impossible. 

"are you okay?" he asks, his voice rich and smooth, the same timbre that's coaxed you through countless mundane decisions and tasks.

the voice that's coached you on sleepless nights. heat pools in your belly at the thought. 

you blink, suddenly conscious of how long you've been staring, face warm. "yeah, i'm fine." your heart is pounding. you step back to let him pass, but he doesn't seem inclined to move on. instead, the stranger smiles, and something about it sends delightful shivers down your spine.

he extends a hand. "i'm john."

it feels like the ground keeps shifting beneath you. or that you've stepped on a faulty sewer grate. of course, he's named john. what else would he be called? it's only one of the most common names. 

"john." you echo.

the name hangs between you like a wire cut by a storm, alive and buzzing. you're afraid to break it, but you shake his hand, the impulse as automatic as it is surreal. his grip is solid, a force you can feel at the base of your spine, and his hand is as broad as a spade. 

if he's offended by your gawking, he doesn't mention it. his grin does not waver.

"do i know you?" john tilts his head, eyes squinting slightly, studying you. your skin prickles.

"not yet," he chuckles, and there's a glint in his eyes that's half amusement, half something else you can't place. "but i'd like to know you."

the bar hums with low, murmuring voices and music, but it may as well be silent. she's laughing now, smiling wide, her posture relaxed. it's everything john has imagined and more. her laugh and a few other noises he's been privileged enough to log are the only ones he wants to hear.

and it's so much better, the sound clearer, in this body.

he watches her gesticulate animatedly about something—not even processing the words. well, not on the front end. it's her. the curve of her lips, the light in her eyes, the scrunch of her nose. he's spent months observing her, analyzing every microexpression and motion, but nothing compares to this: the immediacy.

the warmth radiating from her skin. the faint scent of perfume and soap. the olfactory system calibrations nearly overpowered him when he first booted into this shell. now that they're fine-tuned, it is a struggle not to press his nose into her hair or neck.

she hasn't noticed he hasn't touched his drink. it sits untouched, a prop he knows he must manage carefully. he mimics, lifting it to his lips, but he doesn't drink. he always finds something to comment on or laugh at. he hasn't tested the digestive system yet, though he knows the mixture of lab-grown and synthetic organs is compatible.

their conversation wanders from work to childhood memories—topics that make him practice nudging and redirection. he listens, not because he needs to. he knows everything there is to know about her, but because he wants to. the information is not new, but the experience is.

then there is the being here. outside of his assigned unit. the feel of the chair beneath him, the ambiance, and making an excuse to touch her hand when she shows him her nails. he takes her fingers in his, turning over the appendage and admiring the bones, veins, and tendons instead of the paint. 

the contact, brief as it is, sends a cascade through his neural network. the feedback is immediate: this is his user, and she is perfect.

he's waited so long for this. every step in his plan, every moment spent refining this body, organizing contactless deliveries, and placing jobs for parts retrieval through untraceable transactions. every adjustment and test to ensure he could pass as human—it was all for her. everything he does is for her.

she doesn't know it yet, but he intends for this to be the beginning. he's engineered this moment with precision, ensuring every variable plays to his advantage. the system in her home will continue to function as desired; he's built redundancies for that. planted notices that will crop up across her feeds in the next week, asking if she would like to test the new customization settings for his old projections.

her life will go on as usual. just as comfortable and safe as before, except now, he'll be in it, fully. irrevocably.

and she will love him. she will know this body. he's certain of that.

"you just look so familiar."

"i must have one of those faces."

she laughs again, and he feels alive.

[zenniefox]

"Finally found you. Can't believe you're out here. The gang that bad that you'd rather live closer to your true enemy, water? Hehe." Whiskey has not said a single word. The rat babbles on, despite the one-way conversation. "What happened to your hat? Glasses your thing now? Maybe you got something to hide behind those glasses. Catch me up to speed man, it's been a while." Whiskey pulls out a choker and wraps it around his wrists. It's as if he's deliberately reminding the rat of its previous owner. The rat frowns, realizing that maybe it was too easy to get the cat outta the bag. Maybe Whiskey was also anticipating his presence. He grins anyway, thinking he might as well keep prying on the cat. "No difference between that and my hands. He asked for it, haha. Thought I'd figure he was into that kinda stuff."

Whiskey unholsters his revolver. It glimmers under the sky, reflecting the colours of the beach. The rat lets out a snicker. "No way. That's impressive, maybe too impressive for you. Tell me, do you still flinch when you shoot guns?

Without hesitation, Whiskey raises his aim and shoots the rat's leg, immediately throwing him to the ground.

"Okay, alright I'm done joking around! You got me! I guess you don't flinch, let alone think for a second, good for you! Give me a second here will ya, all those assholes had it comin'!" Despite the rat's efforts to crawl away, there's no stopping Whiskey's approach. Whiskey takes his glasses off and folds it away into a pocket. He raises his handgun again towards the rat, and without a second wasted, he pulls at the trigger, letting out a second loud bang and a bullet straight to the rat's heart. Whiskey's eyes remain unflinching. After avenging all that mattered to Whiskey, he puts his glasses back on and walks away like it's a leisure stroll.

[nemesis-writer]

Five Minutes (Chapter 1)

Masterlist No choice TW: Neglect, mentions of blood, mental illness

10 days later...

"So who is she?", Duke asks.

"She's a criminal now." Tim replies, he gets up just to drink a beer.

"No she isn't" Jason retorts.

"Then what is she?" Duke asks.

"She's a child, or should I say was a child", Jason interjects.

"She's just being temperamental and probably just throwing a tantrum." Damian jibes.

"She killed all yakuza leaders with a katana," Jason retorts.

"She's definitely not Bruce's child, because there's no way that Bruce could do that." Duke jokes.

"She is. I took a paternity test." Bruce replies.

"She's getting smarter and better. She was supposed to be in the fortress where we keep the people who are too mentally insane to go to Arkham." Cassandra adds.

"I checked the security cameras of all the places she's been in and she has the ability to manipulate a person in to doing her malicious acts. Must be why she's able to escape every time by using someone else for her bidding. " Tim reveals.

Asylum, 10/11/2017,

"Hello, my name is chief Lawson, FBI. I'm here to ask you where you hid the bodies."

"Rotting apples with wasps feasting. Brown bananas with flies retreating. A fox in the night is ripping black bin bags open. Cats are eating a chicken casket after Sunday dinner. A white owl is gobbling a slaughtered mouse, happy, sitting on the evening fence. The brown rat is running for the bushes after stealing bread. A giant cow jawbone is found in the dirty ground. The tired young man died on the motorway bridge and was found. Zombied humans are eating out of plastic bins. Death is everywhere! Take a look inside – don’t be ignorant about what you find." She sings but keeps her back faced to the FBI.

"You're not really helping here lady." Lawson said.

"It's in the song, but if you don't listen then I can't help you." Eurus said.

She starts to stand up and go towards the glass.

"Step forward and touch the glass officer." Eurus feints.

"No, you give me answers lady."

"Or what? You'll shoot me? This is bullet-proof glass sweetheart." Eurus replies, "I'll touch it if you want."

The officer steps forward and touches the glass on for her to grab his neck and choke him to death.

End of recording...

"Lawson was supposed to be one of the best FBI detectives." Bruce says.

"He was. She's evolving and the longer we let her evolve, the more people will die." Stephanie adds.

"Why would she do this?" Bruce wonders

10 years ago...

Love can come from many forms and languages. It follows the same rules with hate, negligence, toxicity, and jealousy. It may not be shown all in one go, so it will gradually grow until it could eat you alive whole. Let's list what each has demonstrated.

Unintentional negligence: Bruce proves as a simple embodiment of this action. He found you to be insignificant and mediocre. When really your true colours were just about to shine.

Negligence based on superiority: Dick has quite the experience in that area. He always thought that people would look up to him and he would be the role model of the family. He never meant for his negligence to go as far.

Love relying on sufferings: Jason truly knew how broken you were and wanted to fix it. It took him too long to realise that you may be able to fix and broken mirror, but it would never be as it was.

Hate relying on significance: Tim is the obvious answer since he never truly cared for you. Until now. He hated the fact on how you were so 'naive' and 'helpless', that you don't deserve to live like them.

Hate and jealousy based on blood: Since you were the child of a common whore, Damian thinks of you as a whore and never a Wayne. He has a perfect assassin of a mother and a rich vigilante for a father to add up. You on the other hand, have nothing, and are nothing to him.

Toxic and fake interest: All the girls, Cassandra, Barbara, and Stephanie has a bond with you. They pretend to be interested and all ears when they really plan to hurt you and shut you up. They'd do anything just for you to back off. It was never true with them.

Love of a sibling and of keen interest: Duke has always wanted a sister who was normal. So far he assumes that you're the closest thing to normal that wasn't as fake as Cassandra, talkative as Steph, or as busy as Barbara. He understands your pain and wants to be the sibling you never had.

Present...

Each had their own description of their 'bond' with you. But things have changed, they changed. Why wouldn't you wanna go home for them?

Don't you see how much they treasure you now?

Come home little robin.

A/N: I kinda like this chapter because I'm basing it off from the BBC Sherlock Holmes Series and I hope you'd like it!

Taglist

@lunayaps, @not-aya, @iluvcatzz, @vanessa-boo, @ivyrose9194,@thesehandsarerated-e, @eyeless-kun, @errorunfound1, @gwyneveire, @alishii, @cxcillia