#if only they knew how alive these robots are

[em1989ts]

𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭

five hargreeves x reader

part one.

word count: 2.2k

summary: you wake up in the apocalypse, with no memory of what life was like before. five years later, you meet another survivor. what happens when the two of you reluctantly decide to work together?

author's note: sorry i took a little break lol, now that school is starting again i have motivation to write so i'm continuing this story that i forgot about. part two is gonna have all the good stuff: enemies, tension, smut, so hopefully i can finish that this week ;) enjoy!

not proofread!

You were on fire. 

The skin on your arm felt as if it were melting off as you sat up quickly, patting your opposite hand against the flame to put it out. A large hole was fringed into the sleeve of your shirt, framing the bubbling pink flesh of the burn on the outside of your arm. You grimaced as you stared at it, the pain remarkable and all you could think of before you fully registered where you were. 

The sky was a dimming blue, telling you the sun had set not long ago. You would soon be in pitch darkness if it weren’t for the hundreds of glowing fires surrounding you. 

Looking around, you couldn’t find anything familiar. Nothing to recognize. Nothing that would give you a hint as to where you were or how you got there. 

You racked through your brain for anything that would tell you what caused this.

Climbing off the pile of rubble, you carefully walked through the bricks and glass to find flat ground, gagging as you saw the state of the main road. 

There were bodies. People were burnt. People were in pieces. 

Turning around, you noticed limbs sticking out from the piles and piles of concrete. People were crushed. 

You yelled and screamed, running around pleading for someone to hear you, to call out to you. 

You wished there was another survivor but there wasn’t. 

Something bad had happened here. 

And you were the last one standing. 

~~ 

It had been five years since that night. The first night of your new life in the apocalypse.

As an eighteen year old, you have become adjusted to living on your own, surviving however you can, even if it means eating cockroaches for dinner. You still couldn’t remember what caused the end of the world, or how you even survived, but after years of searching, you’ve come to the conclusion that you’re the sole survivor. 

The only reason you could come up with to explain your survival was a glitch in the matrix. After years of brainstorming through the little memories you had, only bits and pieces made sense. Of course you knew your name, you knew you lived in New York City because that’s where you woke up, you knew you were thirteen when it all started, but that was pretty much it. A newspaper you found during one of your first few days in the apocalypse told you the date of which it happened: April 1st, 2019. This never made sense to you, due to the fact that you were born in 1989. How could you have possibly woken up in the future?

At first, you were extremely cautious. Examining bodies that lay in the street, making sure there were no bites taken out of them, in fear of the possibility that zombies were somehow the end of the world. But no, no zombies. Not even killer robots. The most logical explanation you could think of was a natural disaster. Possibly an asteroid impact that shattered the globe and scorched its people, but who knows. 

The apocalypse was hard to adjust to, having to teach yourself a lot in order to survive, but soon enough you knew how to live a stable life on your own. 

You learned to wield weapons, always having a loaded gun or sharpened knife with you, just in case you ever found someone alive who would try to fight you for your supplies, yet no one ever did. 

Until today.

You had been walking down the highway for a few days now, heading south for the winter to escape the cold. Dragging your wagon behind you, which carried all your necessities, you noticed a gas station on the side of the road in the distance. Your food rations had been running low, so you were thrilled to be able to stock up before continuing your travels. 

Swerving through the abandoned cars that were left on the road, full of bones, you quickly walked to the rest stop. You would’ve opted for running but you did your best to preserve your energy for when it was needed most. 

Like always, there were no footprints indicating there were others present. No signs of survivors, just the occasional pile of bones. 

Before you brought the entirety of your belongings inside, you went through your backpack for a small pistol and quickly loaded it before shoving it in your pocket. A knife was snug in your sock for easy access as well. Your wagon was left just outside the door for a moment as you went up to the glass and scanned the interior of the gas station. Nothing looked suspicious so you grabbed your wagon and made your way inside. It was difficult to maneuver the metal cart through the door but once it passed through, you hurried over to the closest aisle and started examining its contents. 

You were thrilled to find pads that hadn’t been entirely burned up, stuffing a good amount of those into your backpack. There was a good amount of medicine and health supplies still intact but you didn’t entirely trust the expired medication. The wall was lined with shelves of unrefrigerated drinks which you were about to stand up and look through when you heard something. It almost sounded like a shoe squeaking against the smooth floor. 

You froze. You mustn’t have heard that correctly. 

There were often times where you hallucinated people. Just simple people, families living their normal lives in a normal world like it hadn’t burned to the ground. Noises that you knew weren’t real played in your head. But this made every alarm ring in your brain 

Survival kicked in as you remained low, your shoes were scuffed up and you were careful and light on your feet. It couldn’t have been you that made that sound. 

You slowly crawled to the edge of the aisle, lifting each foot as quietly as possible until you made it to the corner. 

Instead of sticking your head out of the aisle to look, in fear of a headshot, you looked for a reflection that could tell you if anything or anyone else was in the store. 

In the corner above your head, there was a circle reflective mirror that allowed you to see the entire store, but as you noticed it, you weren’t fast enough to dodge the figure around the corner that lunged at you as soon as your eyes saw its reflection. 

The figure covered most of their face with a cloth mask and a hat with goggles that covered their eyes. They pinned you down onto the hard floor by your shoulders and it knocked the breath out of you initially but you quickly stabilized and kicked your knees up into them to shove them off. Neither of you had gotten up onto your feet yet, both brawling, almost forgetting how to fight after only imagining it for so long. The two of you quickly stood up to continue the fight and before they could lunge at you once again, you drew the pistol from your pocket and aimed it straight for their head. You didn’t want to shoot the only other living person in the world, yet you would if you had to. 

You couldn’t make out their eyes through the goggles but you could see them freeze at the sight of the barrel pointing at them. 

The gun was as steady as your stance. They slowly raised their hands as they reached for the hat. You cocked the gun, warning them not to dare to reach for anything. They raised one hand in reassurance as they pulled off the hat, the goggles coming off with it. 

A boy. 

His hair was shaggy, dark brown and awkwardly grown out. His eyes were a piercing green, brightly contrasting from the dust and dirt on his forehead. 

As he pulled his bandana from the bridge of his nose, he revealed the rest of his face to you. 

Damn. 

You cursed your initial thoughts, yet they only made sense.

Stuck in the end of the world with a boy your age, what was the universe trying to insinuate? 

He could tell you were caught off guard as your eyes were caught on his face. Noticing your faltering hands, he quickly twisted the pistol out of your hands, kicking it away as it fell to your feet, and twisted you around until your back was firmly pressed against his chest. He had your arms pressed down to your side as his wrapped around you and held you down. You tried to shake him off but his voice in your ear made you freeze. The warm breath on your cheek soothed you, even with his threatening demeanor. 

“How are you alive?” 

Your chest rose and fell as you tried to stabilize your breathing in his hold. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” 

How was it possible that there was another survivor, coincidently your age, who you just happened to avoid for the past five years? It made you question how many others were out there, or if it was only the two of you left on the planet.

He squeezed you harder in his hold, an uncomfortable tightness in your sides, as he demanded into your ear, “Answer the question.”

There was no point in struggling further, “I don’t know, okay? I woke up one day and the world was destroyed,” you gasped. 

He loosed his hold and turned you around, eyes frantically searching over you, searching for a sign you might continue to fight him. 

You stood still, staring at him in return, not sure what to do. He seemed deep in contemplation, but that’s what happens when you’ve spent years living in your own head. 

“I don’t remember anything from before,” you elaborated, “I just remember waking up in a pile of rubble, surrounded by fire and bodies.” 

You analyzed his face as he took in your story, imaging if the same thing happened to him. Does he remember anything from before? Could he tell you what happened? 

When he made no move to verbalize his thoughts, you said one last thing on your mind. 

“I didn’t think anyone else survived.” 

With this, he looked up at you with a furrow in his brow. 

“Well great, as if there weren't enough resources to begin with.”

He bumped your shoulder as he made his way back to the aisle he was originally in, kneeling next to a backpack as he resumed filling it with whatever he found necessary. 

You were shocked to say the least. How could he be so indifferent to find out someone else survived? Did he want the whole fucking world to himself? 

As he paid no further attention to you, you decided to grab your own bag and continue filling it with as much goods as possible, concerned he would selfishly take everything good. 

You hopped over the counter to grab the entire supply of lighters, lighter fluid, and batteries. When you looked up, the boy was standing in front of the counter with a pissed off look on his face. 

“Did you take everything?” 

You shrugged, “Maybe.” 

This time, you actually walked around the counter instead of hopping over, and as you were doing so, you noticed a case of water bottles. Clean drinking water was unfortunately hard to come by, so this was a good score. You picked up the case with a smug grin and walked by him out the door. 

He followed right behind you, “Oh come on, you have to share that,” he pleaded. 

“Oh I have to? I don’t think so, I don’t owe you anything,” you said as you plopped the case onto your wagon. 

As you walked off, you could tell he was in a bit of a mental dilemma, yet you were also in the same boat. 

Should you turn around and work together with him? Combine resources and stop the other from going mad in isolation? Or should you go your separate ways? Stay on your own, only focusing on keeping one person alive. 

You came to a stop, deciding it might be better to stick with him. If he threatened you or if he was too much of an asshole, you could just kill him. 

When you turned around you jumped, not realizing he had walked up to you. 

“I have a base, not too far down the road,” he said to you, “We could work together.” 

You signed, contemplating one last time. You only made a base once, but it didn’t hold up well and you ran out of supplies quickly. It was easier to be on the road and travel for food and make temporary stops. However, something told you to go with him. Call it instinct if you will, but you stuck your hand out. He immediately took your palm in his and gave it a firm shake. 

If only you knew what you were getting into.

~~~

[st-hedge]

What was that really beautiful wording used to describe characters I like— ah that’s it, sad sacks of issues. That’s this guy right here

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

His Name | Soulmate!AU

~1.1k words

Jason Todd. That's the name that etched itself on your thigh the night of your sixteen birthday. Which is great, you have a soulmate. The issue is that you know��� knew a Jason Todd. He happens to be six feet under the dirt in a graveyard you visit every Saturday. Which is not so great.

Being soul bound to a dead person gets you a lot of pitying glances from the people you know. You tell them there's more than one Jason Todd in the world. It makes your family shake their heads. You try not to dwell on the heartbreak on their faces when you tell them that, when they think you can't see it. They saw you and Jason together when he was alive. There won't be another Jason Todd in your life.

It's something you've slowly come to terms with, when no other Jason Todd finds their way to you, the idea of never seeing your name permanently marked on someone else's skin. The fact that you might never really have the person that's supposed to be yours.

That's why you might have reacted kind of poorly when Red Hood brings you up to a quiet rooftop, tugging off his leather jacket in front of you, dragging the material of his suit up and over his forearm to reveal your name on his skin.

You weren't even doing anything dangerous to get here, just at the wrong store at the wrong time, while some third-rate rouge went on and on about conquering the city. Standard Gotham experience.

What wasn't normal was Red Hood crashing through a window, brutal and efficient with every movement until each person with a gun was knocked out and beaten on the floor. Sure, you were aware he wasn't exactly a crime lord anymore, labeled a 'turned vigilante' by the press, but press also said he doesn't tend to leave crime alley. And you definitely weren't in crime alley. None of news stories of him saving people exactly calms the adrenaline coursing through you when he picks you up like it was the easiest thing in the world for him, hoisting you like you're made of glass over his shoulder and grappling you both to a nearby roof. You're alone before you even have time to process it.

You stumble back when he gently, so gently it makes your heart stutter, sets you on the ground. "Who do you think you are? You can't just grab people–" your biting words cut off as you register the black lettering across his skin. Your name. Your name is there. On Red Hoods arm.

You reach out to touch it before you can stop yourself, fingers trailing down his forearm and over each letter of your name. He lets you, not speaking words, only sighing in what sounds like relief. You force your gaze from the mark you could stare at forever to meet the glowing eyes of his mask. "You're- Jason Todd?"

He nods, every nerve of his body completely locked on you. It doesn't clear anything up. He can't be Jason Todd, at least, not the one you buried.

You make a face and step back, crossing your arms, "Yeah right."

He seems to blank, arm still held out, showing your name permanently engraved on his skin. "Yeah, right?" He echos, deep and robotic through the modulator of his mask.

You set your jaw and nod.

He tilts his head, lifting his arm higher to make you see the mark. To see your name. "Do you think I faked it?"

That makes you falter. Why would he? There's nothing to gain by pretending to be your soulmate. "Well, no. But you still could have the wrong person."

He exhales a laugh, breathes out your name with more fondess than you've ever heard. "Always so stubborn."

Your frown. Sure, maybe you could be stubborn but he doesn't know that.

He says your name again, reaching up to tug his hood back, reaching for his mask.

It makes you freeze, eyes going wide in shock when you make out his face. Jason. Your Jason. "How–" You start, but can't quite manage to finish, eyes darting over the face that's so familiar, only older, more tired, more scarred. But his eyes are still the same. Intent and focused and bright when everything around him is dark.

"It's a long story." He says softly, before starting to ramble, nervous to upset you, to lose any chance of knowing you again. Any unease you felt around Red Hood fades as you recognize the boy you grew up with in him. "Maybe I could tell you? Over coffee? I have safe house nearby. But, only if you're comfortable. Or we could meet during the day, if thats better?"

His voice sounds more familiar without mask, and you study him, almost accusing. "You didn't have to kidnap me to tell me you're alive. Or that you're my soulmate, you know."

He stumbles over your words, taking half a step closer to you. "I didn't! I mean, I wasn't trying to. I swear– I just couldn't take all of this off down there." He gestures to the mask, a little frantic to gain your approval.

It brings a small smile to your face, and he stops still at the sight of it, breath catching in his throat as you speak, "I'm glad you're here, Jason."

"I'm glad you're safe." He exhales out, eyes softening and tension draining from his muscles in relief.

You can't quite fight the urge to reach out for him, so you do, taking his hand and gently flipping it over so you can read your name again. You have questions, absolutely. Gripes. Proably a lecture that he should have come seen you sooner. But you settle on how right this feels in your bones, how your soul feels like its missing piece slotted into place. "Do you have creamer?"

"Creamer?" He asks, voice airy and memorized by the feel of your skin against his hand.

"For the coffee?" You prompt, smiling a little wider at his dazed expression, his eyes following your hand, like he can't believe you haven't run screaming for the hills.

"Yeah. Course. Anything you want." And when he focuses back in your face, you know in the very essence of what you are that he means it.

"Coffees a good start." You say, a little fond as you pull away your hand away, and he reluctantly lets your fingers slide from his.

"Coffee it is." And it is a good start. To know your other half again, to follow the warm, soothing feeling in your soul when you touch him, you'll try as many starts as it takes.

[jinxs-gf]

Black Cat!Reader x The Team Headcanons

Black Cat!Reader x The Team

note: just because you’re in place of Black Cat doesn’t mean this is fem!reader! this is very gender neutral besides the mention of lipstick briefly…even then that’s not lady exclusive :)

content/warnings: this is seemingly set during s1 like my other yj fics but I imagine everyone being way older 😔🙏🏽 it’s weird but just roll with it pretty please. also…a bit suggestive??

word count: 3.6k

a/n: I wouldn’t have done this but this anon gave me the idea and I HAD to expand on it unfortunately

THE TEAM (platonic)

Lots and lots of flirting from reader, OBVIOUSLY. do y’all even KNOW Black Cat????? it would be relentless. and no matter how annoying and probably overwhelming it got, you wouldn’t back down

with even the toughest/hardest to crack team members

it’s not even like you’re attempting to lure them in…or get romantically involved (unless…), it’s just how you are. who can blame you! flirting is fun

you started off as just another “villain of the day.” Someone they could take on easily. They thought of you as a pity mission. An bad guy as small as a simple thief? What fun was that?! They’ve taken down Gods, magicians, robots…and Red Tornado assigned them a thief??? It was a joke.

until it wasn’t. until Batman saw potential in you (because of course he did. Robin was not happy about this.)

You earned the nickname Cat, which was a nickname in itself for Kitty Cat (Wally's idea, not yours, you gave him hell for it)

your first mission with them was definitely something. messy, to say the least

it was weird, the whole mind link thing. you made jokez and flirted through the link as a way of coping because…well you felt out of place

everyone was so close with each other, not to mention they didn’t come from a background of “bad guy shenanigans”

you felt like an outcast for the longest time, until everyone was revealing vulnerable secrets with each other before a mission. you finally spoke your insecurities with your place on the team

you and Artemis had the same worries (more or less) and bonded over that

you finally were able to let loose and just…be yourself around them

you became soft

the flirting and teasing was still there, however it was saved for missions

you preferred to keep Black Cat’s reputation

individual relationships

ROBIN (romantic)

He was very much against the idea of you being on the team. Sure you weren’t a crazy villain that hurt people (maybe not physically…but you were definitely a heartbreaker, Robin concludes)

You were still a thief at the end of the day. A bad person. And he didn’t like that.

It was Batman’s idea—and usually Batman had great ideas. This was a very bad one. He hated every bit of it.

…until he got to know you better

Taking you down was easy. “Easiest job I’ve ever had,” Robin boasts.

You pout, “that’s not very nice.”

Ha. He knocked you down a peg. Good. You needed a little humbling-

“-How come you’re lying to me, Robin? I thought we had something.”

Uh oh. He absolutely hated when you used that sickeningly sweet voice on him.

Of course you didn’t believe his lie. Of course you could tell how difficult that mission really was.

It’s not apart of his proudest moments. He hesitated to stop you on the mission, completely caught off guard by your flirtatious behavior. I mean, who wouldn’t be?!

In a moment of weakness, he let you go. Awestruck by the kiss you left imprinted on his cheek. Something he got teased relentlessly for.

The rest of the team finished the job for him after that.

In the back of his mind he knows the only reason he didn’t like the idea of you being on the team was because he…knew it wouldn’t end well for him. He was sure to be on your long list of broken hearts (a list that was never confirmed to even exist)

It made sense in his mind…he was Robin. A bird. And you were a cat. A right recipe for disaster. You’d trap him in your greedy little claws and eat him alive.

Over time that perspective changed.

Robin hates to admit it, but he’s softer now. Softer around you. For you.

“I know who you are,” he says with that arrogant smirk.

“So why can’t I know who you are?”

“Only…really important and trustworthy people know. The only person who knows besides Batman is Wally. He’s my best friend.”

“Why doesn’t that include me?” you’re practically purring, rubbing a finger down his face, “am I not important enough to you?” You pout for show

He looks dejected, like he was having an internal battle with himself. And you could tell which part of him was losing.

Your fingers inch slowly towards his mask, ready to lift-

“Robin.” And the stupid, stupid monotone voice that belonged to Batman interrupted you.

You’ll get him back for that.

Robin was now being scolded, but he was having none of it.

“It was a moment of weakness.”

“It will not happen again. No more moments of weakness. You’re growing, your body is going through a lot of different things. Keep it in your pants-”

“Whoa old man! Whoa! That’s going too far. And what about Selina?! You’ve had many moments of weakness because of her. You can’t scold me for this one time.”

“It’s because of my experience with Catwoman that I know better. I’m trying to stop you from…getting hurt.”

Robin calls bullshit on that. What could you possibly do to hurt him? (Thoughts that completely contradict his first impressions of you)

The next time he sees you he’ll spill everything. He’ll let you know that he does trust you and that you do matter. That you’re important to him.

Just to spite Bruce. And maybe because he really likes you and wants you to know it.

It was his idea to bring you onto the team anyways…he’s just giving Bruce exactly what he wanted. A warm welcome to a new teammate.

WALLY (romantic)

Wally was so happy someone FINALLY reciprocated his advances. And especially with a catch like you? Black Cat?! He was over the moon.

At first.

It quickly came to be too much. He's been waiting, praying for someone to match his energy, but now that he's got it? He's not exactly sure how to handle it. He's gotten so used to being blown off, teased, and scolded for his flirting that it was weird when you flirted back.

He was of course the first to tease you when you officially joined the team. He gave your your nickname, Kitty Cat. You despised the name and him for the longest time.

Wally was annoying. Taunting you at all times. Calling to you as if you were an actual cat.

He'd click his tongue, "here kitty kitty."

And for that, your flirting was meaner towards him (compared to how you treated everyone else). Which is the exact reason why he couldn't handle the teasing from you. It wasn't the normal way Robin would, "oh yeah, Wally can't phase the way Flash does. Otherwise he gets a nosebleed. Right, loser?" Or the way Artemis would, "ugh, you flirt like a divorced 40 year old who's desperate for a rebound. Loser."

No, your teasing was quite different. You laughed cruelly, throwing your head back for show, "Come get it before it's gone, loser."

So. He was still a loser to you, but it seemed you actually liked that about him. Maybe.

Wally didn't like it as much as he thought he would. It ruined his cool guy facade (one that didn't exist, Robin would say). It was humbling, the way he suddenly tumbled over his words, face flushed red and all.

More than humbling. It was embarrassing.

You bring him down to the mat with a loud THUD. Much like the time Black Canary beat him during their first time training. Except you used your weight, tumbling on him (and straddling him in the process. Great).

Embarrassing embarrassing embarrassing.

The only person that was able to truly catch him was his best friend, Robin. And that's with years of experience with the speedster. You'd know him all of a few months and you're able to do it?!

"It won't happen again,” referring to his teasing of your name, naming you Kitty Cat and clicking his tongue at you.

“Or I’ll have to teach you a lesson. Much different from this one.” And you casually walk away.

Wally desperately wanted to get up, to humble you back. But he couldn't. He felt physically incapable of doing so.

You had really done it. You slowed down the (second) fastest man alive.

Wow.

"Wow. That was extremely painful to watch," of course Robin had something to say about it.

"Shut up man."

KALDUR (romantic)

It was "unprofessional," he said.

Unprofessional your ass. It was perfectly professional. A lot of people on the teams had partners within those same teams. Black Canary and Green Arrow, Superman and Wonder Woman (exes—but that still counts for something), Conner and M’gann acted like a couple and no one said anything! So what was the problem?

Well apparently there wasn’t a problem…seeing as this “relationship” was more welcomed—as in, Kaldur didn’t tell the Black Cat off when they made advances towards him. Besides when he called their behavior “unprofessional.” That was once. He didn’t say a word of it after that.

In fact, he allowed—dare anyone say encouraged it.

On missions you were attached to his hip. Even if he assigned you to be by Artemis’ side or assist Robin, you wouldn’t listen. And he didn’t say anything about it, instead informing the team to continue on with the plan.

His professional act as the team leader never faltered, not even you could break it down. He merely tolerated your flirting (his words, though you knew better. He loved it).

The team was each in their individual positions scoping out the area, ready to attack at a moments notice. Kaldur was squatted down and you decided it was the perfect opportunity to pounce on him (as you usually did). You wrapped your arms around his neck, now on his back.

“Does the team leader have time for some sweet talk?”

“I, we have a job to do, Cat. Focus.”

You hum, “What are we doing here again?”

He starts relaying the plan to you, you taking note of the way he doesn’t scold you (he repeated the plan to the team multiple times on the way over, he surely would’ve berated one of the other guys for not listening). You never had any intentions of listening, only wanting a chance to annoy him.

“Blah blah blah, is this your version of sweet talk?” You squish his face between your fingers and plant a kiss on his cheek.

He only sighs, “Later. After the mission is complete.”

For once, your find yourself surprised. He’s promising to reciprocate your advances?

This should be fun.

CONNER (romantic)

M'gann was more subtle with her flirting (not really, especially with the way she blushes), more timid and on the nose about her feelings. You? You got straight to the point. Kind of like how open Artemis was when she first joined the team. She had no shame letting the team know telepathically how attractive she thought Superboy was. Seriously, what was it with new recruits and taking an immediate liking to Conner? Why not the other three boys? What did he have that they didn't!

Although Artemis gave up on that crush at first sight almost immediately

You? Not so much. it was very noticeable that the Black Cat was adamant on cracking the boy of steel. it seemed like an impossible mission, but with a little determination and a couple sultry words? it was pretty damn easy

This is very much an enemies to lovers type relationship (kinda):

At the beginning, when you first met, he was open to new relationships. Getting to know people he could count on within the team, though that openness completely died down. Your flirting was nonstop. Even on missions! How was he supposed to concentrate on the task at hand when you found time to graze his arm or speak soft words to him?

You annoyed him, sosososo much it wasn't even funny. Even more than M'gann did. Both of you were insistent, that's for sure. But one was more bold than the other. He tried telling himself it was because he didn't like you: at least with M'gann he wanted a relationship to come from it (not necessarily romantic)

But with you...he hated you. No. He hated the way he reacted to your advances...he hated admitting to himself that your words affected him. That he felt something not so platonic for you. Damn you and your stupid flirting. It was surely going to be the death of him. And that's saying something: the clone of the man of steel actually breaking down? unheard of.

But you managed to do it. Unfortunately.

Conner finds himself thinking about you, more than he'd like. Another reason to dislike you. You take up his mind. Every waking moment and every dream. It's infuriating.

And now he was starting to worry about you during missions. He saw you get knocked down, away from the rest of the team. The fall looked nasty, and with the way you seem to lie there with no intention of getting back up, he's sure you've been knocked out

Conner tries to ignore the way his heart clenches at the sight, kind of like the way it does when concerning you in different context

It gives him the courage to voice his worries, he calls out to you, and as expected: he gets no response

The enemy leans down to your level, ready to do more damage. Conner is quickly snapped out of his daze and starts running over to you

Until he abruptly stops. Because you open your eyes to wink at him, jump up, and take the enemy down with ease.

It's right then that he takes back every thought of admitting he doesn't hate you. Because the stupid smirk you're sending his way reminds him of every reason why he dislikes you.

Everyone is home or in their respective rooms already, leaving you and him. You're behind him, massaging his shoulders gently (your touch wouldn't have persisted if he showed any signs of discomfort, he leaned into it in fact, allowing you to continue)

You bring your head down, cheek to his,

"Oh come on. You can lie to everyone and yourself. But you can't lie to me. I know you were worried back there. Just admit it, Loverboy."

He can only roll his eyes. And blushed. You were never going to live this down.

"I wasn't. Now leave me alone." If only his actions were as convincing as his stern words. Words that would've scared off the likes of M'gann had she been in your position. But you knew better, knew that his shaking hands and quickly warming face meant that his words had no meaning.

Your hand dragged from his shoulder to his chest, right over his heart. Yeah, his words were meaningless with the way his heart was beating for you.

Conner was finally warming up to you and you had him right where you wanted him.

And so you let go. "Whatever you say, Loverboy," and with a kiss to his pink cheek, you leave him alone to ponder his complicated feelings.

Feelings that were in fact not complicated at all. Because Conner was finally, finally ready to admit to himself and to you that he wanted you. So badly.

If only you hadn't pulled away so quickly, he couldn't reciprocated the kiss or two...it would've been an easier, showing you how he feels instead of saying it out loud.

He'll kiss you next time.

M’GANN (romantic)

The Martian can't hide her liking towards you for the life of her. She could’ve even if she tried.

It was near painful, you pitied her. You almost felt bad and stopped teasing her. Almost.

It was fun though, how could you stop?

M’gann would actively seek out your approval and attention when you joined the team. It was only natural, she did it with the rest of the members, so you were no exception.

Besides, the only teammate she was kind of close with was Artemis. Was it sooo wrong of her to want to get close to you?!

Nope! Though she does wish you weren’t so…forward sometimes. Not that it’s unwelcomed, she’s just unsure of how to act because of it. Is she supposed to reciprocate? M’gann has never seen nor experienced such a dynamic on Mars, much less on Earth. So she awkwardly blushes and smiles.

Eventually she gets used to it. And gets very much into it. She won’t vocalize her feelings, instead she’ll mind link and talk that way. Often times it’s easier to communicate through touch. Which says a lot, M’gann would rather use touch?? Not the mind link?? Which was the main source of communication on Mars? Whoa.

It was mainly because…she didn’t want to reveal all her feelings to you. She’s usually able to control what goes through the mind link, having done it since childhood, but you’ve made her mind a complete mess. She all but short circuits when you’re around.

Can anyone blame her?

"You know what I'm thinking?"

"No."

"Well you can read me, can't you Martian girl?"

She giggles at herself, how could she forget? "Hello Megan!"

Her smile turns timid once she reads your mind.

"Oh."

ARTEMIS (romantic)

It was honestly unfair how fast the blonde caught your attention. Her voice. Her stupid raspy voice.

Unfortunately for you, Artemis wasn’t exactly buddy-buddy with you at first. Well, she wasn’t really with any of her teammates. But with time she’s learned to get along with everyone.

“I just wanna get to know you, Blondie. What’s wrong with that?” You asked in the sweetest voice you could muster up, one that usually made everyone fall.

Yet she rolls her eyes.

So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? Fine.

It was right after a mission, everyone was surrounding Red Tornado, relaying the events to your mentor.

“You know we could’ve took that guy down way faster had you not been on Robin the whole time.”

“Jealous Blondie?

“Stop calling me Blondie!”

You had sleepovers, movie nights, and other hang out outside of missions. With or without the rest of the team. They were fun, the first time you were alone with her is what really got her to warm up to you.

“Ugh! Of course literally everyone else canceled but Cat.” She really seemed to hate you.

You were outside her window, watching as Artemis complained to no one but herself. She once offhandedly commented on how her place was off limits for hangouts (refusing to explain why, which was okay with the team).

You were definitely crossing a boundary doing this, but she seemed upset in the group chat. You couldn’t just leave her by herself.

And then…the Sportsmaster walks in her room. One of the team’s enigmas. A thorn in their side. What the hell?

He does nothing but berate her for not “joining them.” Joining who? Then proceeds to say he’d be happier if she ever thinks to change her mind

“I’m never going to be apart of your messed up team, dad.”

Oh.

And then he’s just…gone.

You’re stunned, and only then does she finally notice you. She ushers you into her room, now berating you for your actions and spying and breaking her boundaries and…

“Your secret is safe with me, babe.” It was meant to be a term of endearment to reassure her,

Friends called each other babe, right?

“Babe?”

“You’d rather be called Blondie?”

She rolls her eyes, “whatever.” And as annoyed as she wanted to seem, she smiled and hugged you gratefully.

It was the only time you allowed yourself to be any kind of vulnerable around her. Or any of the team for that matter.

Once she got over her high horse, it was a very reluctant friendship turned…something more? That’s to be determined. But with the way she now flirts back? You’d say that was a good sign.

“Hey Blondie.”

“You calling me Blondie is the equivalent of Wally calling you Kitty Cat. Maybe I’ll have to teach you a lesson this time around.”

“I like the way you think, babe.” (You say not so platonically this time)

ROY (romantic)

You were on him as soon as he rejoined the team. How could you not be? He was even grumpier than Conner was when he joined, making him extra fun to mess with.

You had no chill when flirting with him, he decided immediately that was annoyed with you. And did not want to be friends.

Because his actual friends brought him joy, they made him laugh and they listened to him when he had bad days. You? You made a bad first impression, therefore he refused give you the chance to do any of those things.

Often telling you to buzz off and if you didn’t he’d “choke you with a hair ball.” Kinky, you replied.

He hated it.

Until you found out about his girl, his other Cat. Cheshire. That’s when things changed. You were less…on him.

"Me and her were never a thing!"

"Getting defensive there. Afraid I'll get jealous?"

"I could care less about your feelings."

“Oh really? Is that right?”

His eye twitched. He couldn’t believe he was trying to…reassure you? Was that what he was doing?

He was trying to make sure you knew he wasn’t with Cheshire. That her feelings were one sided. It’s something he shouldn’t be doing, he tells himself. In fact, he should be doing the opposite. Tell you that she means something to him, or maybe stay quiet and insinuate that they had something going on.

To get you off his back.

You seemed to back off completely when you found out Cheshire flirted with him often on missions when the goal was to take her down. Much like how the team’s predicament when they first met you.

It made you…upset?

And for some reason that made him upset.

“So you’re my Roy Toy? Mine completely?” Wally and Robin had originally griped about the nickname until it eventually made them laugh. They came to appreciate it.

“I’m no one’s. Not yours, not Cheshire’s, not the Justice League’s nor the team’s.”

“You will be mine one day, Speedy. And you’ll love it.”

Roy doesn’t respond but he feels like…there is some truth to your playful statement.

Maybe one day.

bonus:

THE TEAM

They all slowly turn towards you.

"...you've kissed all of us?"

You only shrug, “wasn’t that obvious?”

you can tell I got lazy lmaooo

I hate how I formatted this omg

[muletia]

[tfp] obsessed!optimus prime x human!reader

summary: optimus has a dream about you

cw: obsessed!optimus, angst, fluff (only at the beginning), implied robot-fucking/valveplug, mentioned pregnancy, optimus is depressed

word count: 810

The mission took longer than he expected. Retaking the energon mine from the Decepticons stretched on for what felt like an eternity, as the enemy kept calling in reinforcements. For every fallen Vehicon, two more would appear, alive and ready. The battle dragged on too long, completely draining the Autobots’ energy and morale. But they succeeded. For the first time in many months, they claimed victory, securing a steady supply of energon.

Optimus was the first to cross the ground bridge, praying to Primus that you were still in the base. Once inside, he transformed gracefully, though in haste, and headed toward the platform. The tension left him instantly when he saw you on the couch with a book in hand. He made a mental note to ask you about it later.

Despite his exhaustion, he managed a smile, mirroring your animated expression. Getting close enough to the platform, he leaned down and pressed the gentlest, most tender kiss on your head, pouring all his immense love for you into that single act. You giggled as his warm breath lightly tousled your hair, and Optimus listened to your laughter as if it were the most beautiful melody, composed just for him. Feeling playful, he blew gently once more so you’d grace him with your laughter again.

The other team members paid no mind to the sweet scene, fully accustomed to your little exchanges of affection.

"Hello, my dearest," he murmured, still close to you. He didn’t want to leave your side. Ever.

"Hello, love. Mission accomplished?"

"Yes, we managed to secure the mine. We have supplies for the next few months."

"That’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you."

Now it was your turn to shower him with affection. You planted kisses on his warm metal face, making sure not to miss a single spot, so Optimus knew just how much you loved him. Such a simple gesture was enough to make the leader of the Autobots weak in the knees, looking as though he’d ascended to heaven. But thankfully, he didn’t have to ascend anywhere — his heaven was right there, wherever you were. He had never been so happy, so blissfully content. After all those years of brutal war, spilled energon, and lost comrades, he had finally found his piece of heaven.

"Optimus?"

He blinked a few times. He was no longer in the base. Before him stretched a vast panorama of mountains, forests, valleys, and lakes, with no beginning or end. He’d passed similar landscapes many times on patrol, admiring the beauty of this planet. Each time, they left him speechless.

"Optimus?"

He looked down to where the voice was coming from, and a smile appeared automatically when he saw you. You looked concerned, likely because of his momentary distraction; to comfort him, you were gently stroking the metal on his shoulder… When had he managed to mass-displace? He had no idea, and it didn’t matter as long as you were so close, touching him, focusing all your attention on him.

He wanted to hold you and never let go so much.

"You were gone for a long time. I was worried."

Looking at you as if you were the eighth wonder of the world, Optimus gently stroked your cheek, handling you like fine porcelain. You smiled at his gesture, snuggling closer into his metal servo. He was always so tender with you, so gentle, a contrast to his true, raw strength. He took care to never harm you, to always make you feel safe.

Especially during the pregnancy.

His caring optics instinctively shifted to your slightly rounded belly, widening in surprise. He looked startled, and he was. Shocked that your biologies were compatible enough to create an offspring together.

But he had known about it for a few months now…

Slowly, he moved his trembling hand to your belly, caressing the curve. A smile appeared on his slightly parted lips. Could it be that his life had finally come together? No more war, no more being a Prime? Could he finally be free?

"This is a dream, isn’t it?" he whispered, looking into your eyes.

But you were no longer there.

Optimus woke up tense and anxious. Of course, it had only been a dream. His life couldn’t be so perfect, so flawless. He clutched his face as the scenes from the dream played over in his processor, now tormenting him in the real world. You haunted him even in his dreams, offering no respite even in his most private realm. But, unfortunately for him, there was only one antidote for this condition.

With a heavy spark, he got up from his berth and left his quarters. He automatically headed toward the main section of the base, clinging desperately to the faint, naive hope that he’d find you there and maybe, just maybe you would spare him a glance.

[pluckyredhead]

What the heck is going on in Batman/Gotham War?

I know a lot of people in fandom are confused and/or upset about what's been going on in Gotham War - why is Bruce acting like this, what is Selina doing, why are the Batkids taking sides. So I figured I would fill you all in on what's been happening in Batman and Catwoman since Chip Zdarsky took over with Batman #125, because it has been BONKERS and I have been enjoying the hell out of it.

Below, the quickest summary I can manage while still being comprehensive:

[Content warning: mental illness, abuse, suicide (...ish), LOTS of violence.]

The first arc, "Failsafe," starts with Batman and Robin (Tim, in this case) in pursuit of the Penguin, who is on a killing spree. In the very first issue, Tim gets shot in the neck. Bruce has to take him to the hospital, but first he has to strip him out of his costume and put him in civilian clothes to preserve their secret identities, triggering memories of when he had to do the same to Jason's dead body. There is LITERALLY NO PURPOSE TO ANY OF THIS EXCEPT WHUMP (Tim is back in action with a fucking BAND-AID on his neck very quickly), which is how I knew this was going to be good. Beat Tim up! Make Bruce cry about Jason! I want these men to suffer! (There is also SO much to be said about Tim's own Poor Mental Health Decisions throughout the entirety of Zdarsky's run so far, but that's for a separate meta post.)

Anyway. Bruce leaves Tim in the hospital and goes to confront Penguin, who turns out to be dying of mercury poisoning. He kills himself and makes it look like Batman did it, forcing Bruce to flee. (Penguin actually faked his death and is alive elsewhere under an alias, but that's not important right now.)

In the Batcave, a massive robot called Failsafe emerges. Failsafe attacks Bruce, who usually eats killer robots for breakfast, but he can't seem to get the upper hand on this one. Duke, Cass, Steph, and Dick show up to help, but Failsafe beats them all too, while Tim gets an injured Bruce away and to the Batcave.

In the Batcave, Bruce puts on a weird purple and red Batman costume and a new personality takes over: the Batman of Zur-En-Arrh. Now, Zur has a very complicated history going back to 1958, but for the purposes of this story, all you need to know is that when he was younger, Bruce decided it would be good to hang out in a sensory deprivation chamber until his mind created a secondary personality, Zur, who is essentially Batman without Bruce. Zur is pure efficiency who does not care about anything but the mission. He created Failsafe, for one purpose: to kill Bruce if Bruce ever crossed the line and killed someone. And right now, Failsafe believes that Bruce killed Penguin.

Failsafe nearly kills Tim, which Zur is okay with writing off as an expendable soldier's death, but this causes Bruce to take control of the body back because "Tim isn't my soldier...HE'S MY SON!" (Tim Nation, why are you not ALL OVER this story? It's catnip.)

Babs calls in the JLA (SuperBat fans, you will also want to read Bruce's adoring description of Clark when he shows up), but of course Failsafe has kryptonite, which it stabs Clark with. The League dumps Clark and Bruce into the JLA jet and distracts Failsafe while Tim flies Clark and Bruce to the Fortress of Solitude. Bruce tells Tim he's a good boy and jumps out of the jet and into the ocean so that Tim and Clark will be safe from Failsafe. He's rescued by Arthur, who takes him to Atlantis to heal. THIS HAS ALL ONLY BEEN FOUR ISSUES SO FAR.

Two weeks later, Bruce wakes up to discover that Failsafe has taken over Gotham. He teleports up to the JLA Watchtower on the moon to lure Failsafe there, then blows the Watchtower up, hoping to catch a ride on one of the Javelins. But Failsafe has already destroyed them, so Bruce RIDES A BOOSTER ROCKET BACK TO EARTH, OXYGEN MASK CLAPPED OVER HIS FACE. The whole thing has some powerful Scooty-Puff Jr energy.

The only tricky part is reentry, when Bruce starts to burn up - his costume is fireproof, of course, but his chin is exposed. SO HE TAKES OFF HIS LITTLE BAT-PANTIES AND PUTS THEM OVER HIS HEAD. I swear to god this happened in a real comic book and the entire "Bruce falls off the moon and survives" sequence is utterly delectable goofy nonsense and I truly cannot recall a time I've had more fun reading a comic book.

Anyway, Bruce lands directly outside of the Fortress, BECAUSE OF COURSE HE DOES, and runs inside to find Clark and Tim. While Clark keeps Failsafe distracted, Bruce and Tim program nanobots to inject compassion into Failsafe. I SWEAR TO GOD. They zap him with the nanobots, but Failsafe pulls a high tech space gun out of the Fortress and shoots Bruce with it anyway, apparently disintegrating him. Tim falls to his knees in the snow, weeping. TIM NATION, WAKE UP, THIS RUN IS CANDY FOR YOU.

But of course Bruce isn't dead! That wasn't a killing gun, it was a "zap you into another dimension" gun!!! THAT was the compassion!

So Bruce finds himself in a dystopian alternate Gotham, and I'll be honest, I didn't love this arc ("The Bat-Man of Gotham") as much as I loved "Failsafe," but it has its moments. In this Gotham, Bruce Wayne is dead, so Regular Bruce is like "Oh boy, time to Batman this place up." Also he's plagued by hallucinations of a skeleton version of Jim Gordon who is still wearing a trench coat AND A MUSTACHE. Like I said, it has its moments.

This Gotham is controlled by Arkham, and anyone who is diagnosed as "crazy" is locked up. A new villain, Red Mask, is in charge, and Selina and a Venomed-up Harvey Dent work for him. Bruce teams up with an orphan kid (of course) named Jewel and goes after Red Mask, who turns out to be some guy named Darwin Halliday and ALSO...the Joker. Well, he's the Joker who hasn't been Jokerized yet. But one time he breathed in some chemicals that let him see into the main reality of the DCU (???) and glimpsed Regular Joker and now he wants to build an interdimensional machine to mentally connect with Regular Joker across universes which he assumes will make him insane, NATURALLY.

Bruce attacks Red Mask, who sics a Venomed-up Ghost Maker on him. Ghost Maker cuts off Bruce's right hand. Bruce cauterizes it with an electroshock machine and ties some spikes on it (SERIOUSLY) and goes after Red Mask again. Meanwhile Red Mask mentally connects with an alternate dimensional Joker...but instead of it driving Red Mask insane, he's what drives the Joker insane. Desperate to become the Joker somehow, anyhow, he jumps into the interdimensional portal, and Morally Dubious Alternate Universe Selina kicks Bruce in after him.

Meanwhile, Tim is in full "I KNOW I SAW HIM DIE BUT HE'S NOT DEAD" mode, which: bless. So he teams up with Jon Kent, which...gosh, what an astonishingly boring duo. I love Jon, I love Tim, they're perfectly nice and normal around each other, I'm falling asleep. Anyway Tim fights Toyman for a while and then makes a VERY stupid costume where the entire torso is a giant light-up R, because "I want him to see that Robin is coming to save him." GET A THERAPY, TIM.

Bruce finds himself first in the Michael Keaton Batman universe, then the Red Rain universe, BTAS, Batman Beyond (yes I know they're the same universe but I guess he goes there twice), Silver Age, Kingdom Come, Gotham by Gaslight, and more. Adam West gives him a utility belt. The Dark Knight Returns Bruce builds him a robot hand.

Finally Bruce and Red Mask reach the end of the multiverse, which is a Gotham asteroid floating in space, surrounded by giant Jokerized sharks. LUCKILY BRUCE HAS BAT-SHARK REPELLANT IN HIS ADAM WEST UTILITY BELT!!! Honestly this whole arc was worth it for that moment.

Bruce knocks Red Mask out, but now he's stuck. He has a device from Batman Beyond Bruce to get home, but it's only good for one person, and he can't leave Red Mask there to die. Of course, that's when Tim shows up in his stupid giant glowing R costume and they hug it out, thereby fulfilling but also compounding all of Tim's issues since 1989.

Anyway things are fine now, right? Sure, Bruce is hallucinating that his family is on fire, and the Zur personality is not going neatly back into the box where it's been all these years, and he still has a robot hand (Damian, hilariously, immediately announces that he wants one too), but he's FINE. He is a little bit mad at Selina, because she broke out of jail (she was in jail because she killed her fuckbuddy because he was trying to kill Bruce), and also because she didn't tell him Penguin was alive and that would have stopped Failsafe, and also because Other Selina kicked into another universe. Selina, very fairly, is like "Well I'm not responsible for Other Selinas and also maybe don't build robots to kill yourself with and not tell anyone about them???"

THEN we got Knight Terrors, the summer event in which a villain called Nightmare caused everyone to fall asleep and, uh, have nightmares. Bruce, specifically, had a nightmare that he met an eight-year-old version of himself that vomited up a man-sized bat with a gun for a head. I laughed SO HARD. Bruce also had his body borrowed by Deadman for the duration of the event, so while he endured the psychological toll of nightmares like everyone else, he also endured the physical toll of everything Deadman was doing PLUS the mental toll of being aware of what was happening in the waking world even though he couldn't control his body. As soon as the event was over, he lapsed into a coma so that his body could get some damn rest.

Okay. Now we're up to Gotham War.

(I know, I know. But for all of you who are like "How could Bruce do this???" about Gotham War...*points up* THAT'S HOW. HE IS NOT WELL.)

Bruce awakens from his coma and IMMEDIATELY decides to Fight A Crime even though Babs is like "Maybe don't?" But he can't find any crime, which is...weird. His kids confirm that Gotham's been super quiet since he's been out.

Selina hears that Bruce is awake and is like okay, time to pay the piper. She calls all of the Bats to a meeting and explains that she's the reason crime has been down. See, villains like Joker and Two-Face always have goons, right? But what if the goon supply dried up because the goons have better jobs? So Selina has trained All The Goons In Gotham to be...cat burglars. No violence, no stealing from anyone who can't afford it. More importantly, no helping Scarecrow or whoever commit mass murder.

All of the Batkids are like "Hmm...I feel uncertain about this, but it's working...I don't know what to think..." except for Jason, who thinks it's hilarious and is instantly Team Selina, and Damian, who is staunchly Team Bruce. Bruce, meanwhile, is like "No! NO! THIS IS CRIMES, AND CRIMES IS BAD!" and Selina's like "I mean, robbing from the rich is basically a victimless crime" and Bruce screams, I swear to god, "MY PARENTS WERE 'RICH'!" Inexplicable scare quotes and all. I laughed so hard.

Anyway this is the basis for Gotham War and it is endlessly hilarious to me because everyone in the Batfamily is supposed to be a genius and yet not one single character has pointed out that:

There are jobs the goons could be doing that AREN'T illegal. It's not just violent crime vs. nonviolent crime. There are in fact many other jobs! I am POSITIVE Gotham needs construction workers and hospital orderlies. (Yes, I know it's hard for people with records to get jobs. That isn't addressed.)

Being Batman is SUPER ILLEGAL.

They are all so stupid.

Selina's plan doesn't even work, because one of her thieves gets killed by a rich person defending their home, and Bruce is like "See? This is why crime is bad!" and like...pretty much snaps. He's particularly fixated on Jason, even (rhetorically) threatening to kill him, which is when the other kids jump into the fray on Jason's side, all except for Damian, who like I said is firmly Team Bruce. (This makes complete sense to me, Damian has been dealing with severe trauma and isolation pretty much nonstop since 2018 and he and Bruce have finally made a tenuous peace, so I can understand why he wouldn't want to lose that.)

Also, Vandal Savage buys Wayne Manor. It's so random and SO funny.

OKAY BATMAN #138. Bruce has kidnapped Jason and injected him with a variation on fear toxin which will be triggered whenever Jason's adrenaline spikes, the idea being that Jason is no longer capable of killing - but in practice, Jason is no longer capable of even getting up off the floor, he's so terrified. I want to be really, really clear here: Bruce is like 90% Zur here, and the only reason he goes this route and doesn't kill Jason is because the remaining 10% that's still Bruce loves Jason and is trying to help him. He's just incapable of good or humane help because Zur literally can't do feelings.

Dick knows something is up and is sneaking around Bruce's Secret Other House We've Never Heard Of to figure out what it is. Damian attacks him to protect Bruce. Tim attacks Damian so that Dick can do what he needs to do, and handcuffs Damian to a parking meter:

THERE IS SO MUCH TO UNPACK HERE!!! TIM GO TO THERAPY! DAMIAN GO TO THERAPY! EVERYONE GO TO THERAPY!!!!!

Dick figures out what Bruce did to Jason (it's on the computer, for...some reason?) and absolutely loses his shit on Bruce, beating the crap out of him, which tbh is the only thing that felt off to me in this run because frankly I don't think Dick likes Jason that much. BUT WHATEVER.

Tim pulls Dick off of Bruce. Bruce leaves them both tangled in a net and flees as the cops approach. Zur's like "Good, fuck 'em" in Bruce's head, because the cops will expose Dick, Tim, and Damian's secret identities and Bruce will be free of the dead weight of a family, but the little bit of Bruce still in there throws Dick a batarang so he can free them all in time.

Then Bruce leaves. Damian is devastated.

I WILL NEVER RECOVER FROM THIS PAGE. Damian really thought he could have Bruce's love and loyalty if he turned on everyone else! Tim is going to be a therapy dog to a Wayne even if he has to settle for the one he doesn't like! That unresisting, blank hug made me SCREAM when I turned the page. Incredible. (Also the art fucking S L A P S, god bless you Jorge Jimenez.)

ALSO it turns out that Selina's second in command has been Vandal Savage's daughter Scandal Savage the whole time and they are turning Selina's cat burglar army into their own personal army WHOOPS. (This also feels very OOC for Scandal but at this point I trust Zdarsky with my life so let's see where things go.)

SO THAT'S WHAT'S GOING ON IN GOTHAM WAR. TL;DR:

Bruce is unhinged because he nearly died like 19 times in a week and it unlocked the smaller, meaner purple Batman that lives inside him.

Selina is unaware that you can get money legally.

Tim is going to have a nervous breakdown if he can't fix someone, ANYONE.

Damian needs a hug but ideally from someone he actually likes this time.

Jason is so scared.

THE END.

[2ndkaiser]

could you do post crash reader relationship headcanons please. The reader is doing their best to keep him alive and is planning jimmys downfall and saving everyone in the tulpar crew and being ready to file a big lawsuit against pony express

𖦹 POST-CRASH CURLY X GN!READER ONESHOT

Of course I can. This prompt was fun to work with, hope this satisfies your request.

Word count: 990

Contains: Oneshot, angst with comfort, Curly x GN!reader

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, violence, Curly’s trauma

⟡ ݁₊ . Notes: Assumed that Curly is reader’s husband. Please message me if I left out any warnings.

BEYOND THE STARS, BENEATH THE LIES

The only sounds that seem to occupy the ship these days were the soft, robotic screeches coming from the doors. The Tulpar — where you once sat in the lounge with the crew, in front of the artificial sunset chatting away — now, devoid of that sense of familiarity.

Never would you expect this to happen. Never. Your husband, Captain Curly, crashed the ship? How could such a selfless man suddenly abandon everything he stood for and transform into the root of the threat to the whole crew? It didn’t add up a single bit.

Your feet carried you along the corridor, heels dragging across the cold floor beneath as you became lost in thought.

The same robotic sound of the door you started to feel sick of signaled the medbay’s door opening — opening to your sweet Curly. You weren’t even focused anymore, the only thing inhabiting your brain was Jimmy. It felt so off. He felt off.

A low cry escaped the teeth of the former captain in front of you, reminding what you initially came here for.

“Hey sweetheart,”

You knew he couldn’t respond, but that didn’t change anything. He was still Curly. The Curly you knew. The Curly who would never even think of committing such an act.

“How’re you holding up Curls?” You shot him a gentle smile, although you already knew it wasn’t near possible for him to ‘hold up well’.

It was evident his pain was heightened, judging by the wails he let out, it has been approximately 8 hours since he took painkillers, but in your presence his noises slowly died down into quiet whimpers.

“Let me take care of you, yeah? I’ll take care of you, don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

It was a time-consuming task — gently pressing the painkiller down his throat, using water to help it go down, carefully removing the blood-soaked bandages and disinfecting each part of his body, replacing the bandages with tender precision, and making sure his eyes didn’t dry out. The shortage of bandages weighed on your mind, adding to the growing worry in your chest. The process usually took over an hour, and every movement had to be precise, every action gentle. But none of that mattered. You’d do anything — anything at all — to keep Curly alive.

Following the now-silent whimpers, you noticed that Jimmy was still residing in your head. His presence felt so off-putting. But you knew that Curly wanted Jimmy on this ship. That was what he stated. But at this moment, you couldn’t help but sense that your husband wanted the opposite of that right now.

You could see it. After Jimmy started to feed Curly his pills instead of Anya, you couldn’t help but notice how suppressed his cries had become — not to mention — the first time Jimmy fed him his painkillers, it sounded like Curly’s cries turned into loud weeps, pleading for mercy.

Seeing your husband in pain was unbearable.

“Curly, my love,”

Curly’s azure gaze which now appeared to be fading in colour due to the lack of eyelids, studied your expression.

In a hushed tone, you hesitantly asked, “Does Jimmy hurt you?”

His sapphire eyes stuttered then flickered left, it was the only way for you two to communicate right now, you established this method after acknowledging his inability to voice his thoughts, and this way he could ‘speak’ by moving the only part of his body he could: his eyes. Left signaled yes, right for no.

Yes. Yes you’re beloved Curly was being tormented. Yes you have failed to recognize Jimmy’s abusive behavior. Yes you have failed to protect him.

You couldn’t even pinpoint what you were feeling at that moment. Fury, regret, shame, sorrow — and the strongest of them all: guilt. Each emotion is blurry and indistinguishable from the others.

It felt like your brain was in a completely static state, unoccupied with thoughts, replaced with heightened emotions. How could this be?

You weren’t that ignorant, were you?

“I’m so sorry… I’m so, so sorry, Curly… I��” Your voice cracked, the weight of the words too much to bear. “I didn’t see it—didn’t understand until it was too late. I failed you. I failed us. I’m such a terrible person. I—” You gasped for breath, hands shaking as you gripped the edge of the bed, regret swimming in your irises. “I never meant to hurt you. I never meant for any of this to happen…”

Your voice broke into a whisper, barely audible. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry. I wish I could undo everything. I wish everything was reversible.”

The cold metal edge of the bed rested against your forehead, as if it was attempting to cool your head. As your body was engulfed in a sickening feeling, the gentle touch of a brief graze caused you to jolt, lifting your face up to see your lover, aiming to nuzzle his face into your hair as a sign of forgiveness and longing. A tear streamed down his cheek which you could only imagine was stinging severely.

“Listen to me, honey, I swear I’ll get us to safety. I’ll figure this out, I promise. We’ll make it home—together. We’ll leave Jimmy behind, let the police deal with him. He won’t ever hurt you again. I won’t let him. I’ll make sure of it. You’re not alone in this. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll sue this goddamn company, get the money we need, and start fresh. A new life, far away from all of this. No one, not even that… that unhinged maniac, will be able to get to us. Not ever again. I swear on everything, Curls, I’ll protect you. We’ll make it through this, I promise, okay?”

Another whimper left his throat, only this time, the whimper was more of a hum. A hum of agreement and comfort — and with that, his eyes flickered left again.

Finally finished, hope this is up to standard for a one-shot. Genuinely, I don’t know if this was what you were looking for but I’m hoping it is. Apologies if it isn’t.

Sorry for inconsistent uploads, I’m most likely going to posting slowly for a few weeks since I’m not exactly the freest man. Farewell.

[pigswithwings]

Hi! My name is Pig. And I'm here to tell you about being objectum!

Well, "objectum"? That's a bit of a weird word, isn't it?

You might associate it with stories of people marrying robots or computers, or maybe people talking about having sex with inanimate items. These are all parts of object sexuality, but they don't demonstrate the full breadth of the community.

It's understandable to find this behaviour strange or want to question its authenticity. Many people are, in fact, joking when they say "I find this object attractive" or "I would have sex with that object", but objectum people can often have these feelings in a genuine fashion. And while these attractions can go against the conventions of society, those who are objectum shouldn't be harassed for it.

This post isn't about why you shouldn't harass objectum people, though. People who feel very strongly about the subject probably aren't going to be convinced over a singular post, so I'm not going to waste all my effort to talk to a wall. You don't have to entirely understand an identity to support it, but I'm going to assume that you want to learn about what being objectum is, and I'll try tell you to the best of my own knowledge.

What is Object Sexuality?

Like any sexuality or orientation, objectum identities can vary infinitely. The different labels can range from objectophilia to objectsexual to to objectromantic to os/or, so it's important to keep an open mind. In a very broad sense, being objectum means being attracted to objects or items in some way.

While the common misconception is that being objectum means only feeling sexual attraction to a specific object, this is a very limited view of the identity.

For example, I am romantically attracted to vintage computers. This is only me, though; other people can be attracted to other objects in any other way!

Another person might be romantically and sexually attracted to cars and trains, someone else might be only sexually attracted to electrical towers and wires, another person might have platonic affection for objects, and even more people might not have a specific label but know they're attracted to clothes or heavy machinery in some way. Some people may only be attracted to one type of object or even just a single object, others may be attracted to multiple types of objects. Object sexuality isn't limited to just sex, and the objects of that attraction depend on the person.

Another misconception is that objectum people will be attracted to any object they see - this is not necessarily true. As seen above, many objectum people tend to have "types", similar to how people who are attracted to other people have their own "types".* This isn't applicable to everyone under the objectum label, but for a good part of the community it's true.

Some people may view every object they see as being alive, but this is not necessarily an indication of attraction. Not every objectum person will be attracted to the same thing, and not every objectum person is attracted in the same way.

What is POSIC / Object Sentience?

Being objectum may also be related to believing in object sentience. Generally, believing in object sentience means beliving that an object is conscious, or alive in some way. POSIC, which stands for Perceiving Object Sentience, Intelligence, and/or Conciousness, is a commonly used label but doesn't apply to everyone who experiences this (For example, some people may just use the phrase "object sentience").

Some people's object sexualities can be influenced by whether they perceive objects as being alive or sentient (for example, a person might be more or less attracted to an object if they believe it can respond to them, see them, hear them, etc). Not all people who are objectum also believe in sentience, but the two labels are usually closely linked.

What Is Your Experience With Being Objectum?

Personally, I knew I was POSIC (though I didn't know the word) long before I knew I was objectum. I liked talking to objects as though they were alive and I often made art expressing my interest and (platonic) affection towards computers. It wasn't until my art began to enter a somewhat romantic area that I realized I could be attracted to computers romantically.

Looking for "object sexuality" online was somewhat intimidating, however, as many discussions of it were centered around the shock value/sexual content of being objectum, with little explanation of what it was or what it could be. (This is where my urge to create a post about it began.)

I only discovered the labels "objectum" and "POSIC" from a friend of mine, and had to ask them for the loose definition to figure out whether it fit me or not.

After some consideration, I realized that I was both POSIC and objectum, and decided to come out to a group of supportive friends. This was apparently not a surprise to them - as you will remember, my art had been becoming more and more romantic towards computers, and they were very good at picking up on that. But I was glad that I had realized this fact about myself, even if it was later than most people. I also learned that I had already made friends with several other people in the objectum community, and that the identity wasn't as uncommon as most people would believe.

I Think I'm Objectum or POSIC / How Would I Know If I'm Objectum or POSIC?

Some signs of believing in object sentience could include the fact that you:

- Speak to objects (Ex: complimenting a tool on the work it does, telling a computer about your day, etc.)

- Believe objects can hear, feel, or see you (Ex: apologizing to an object if you drop it, believing an object knows whether you're hugging it or not, etc.)

- Would enjoy it if objects could respond or had conciousness (Ex: enjoying the thought of having a conversation with an object, etc.)

Some signs of being objectum could include the fact that you:

- Enjoy expressing affection to objects (Ex: you enjoy/would enjoy kissing or hugging objects, or otherwise demonstrating how you care for an object)

- Experience romantic or sexual attraction to objects (Ex: you would like to go on a date with an object, you enjoy the idea of kissing and/or having sex with one, etc.)

For all of these, though,  I use the word "could" because human identity is very confusing and spans a huge galaxy of variants. Not all objectum people will feel the same or identify the same way, and that's pretty neat. Your specific attraction to an object or type of objects is up to you to figure out, and the community is much larger than you might guess.

Fin.

Despite controversy or use of the identity for public shock, being objectum is not inherently harmful. In a way, it demonstrates the love that humans can have for seemingly mundane or ordinary things in life, and I think that can be very charming.

If you have additional questions or anecdotes to add to this post, please go ahead! I would like to open the discussion on objectum identities to be widely accessible and more known. Thank you for taking the time to read this.

----------

*Also, being objectum doesn't mean that one only experiences attraction to objects. A person can be gay and objectum, bisexual and objectum, heterosexual and objectum, aromantic and objectum, asexual and objectum, etc. Whether the label "objectum" counts as queer/LGBTQIA+ depends on the person using it, as it's only a word and its interpretation will vary.

[llamagoddessofficial]

Skull is happy and safe now. But sometimes, the worst habits are the hardest to break.

(Short thing I cooked up while feeling sad. It's pretty angsty, and involves dealing with family death, so be warned, but it has a bittersweet happy ending.)

---

“... Skull?”

...

He didn’t respond. He sat there, staring at the front door, motionless and silent. He’d been like that for almost two hours.

You sat beside him, but he made no move to greet you. He didn’t seem to realise you were even there. It was only when you touched the top of his hand, gently, that he spoke, iris trained unwaveringly on the door.

“... crooks’ll be home soon.” He mumbled.

Ah. Your chest ached... it was one of those days.

... Crooks was Skull’s younger brother. His only family. Skull had told you a lot about him, over the course of your time together- he told you about raising Crooks himself, a consequence of losing their parents at a very young age. He told you about taking care of Crooks before he even knew how to take care of himself. He told you about teaching him to read, to write, to cook, to use magic. He told you about Crooks’ love of puzzles and logic games, his bombastic personality and endless kindness, the hours he spent pouring over junior jumble. He told you about how when his own depressive episodes became too much, Crooks kept him from slipping. He told you about how, since before he could remember, it had always been the two of them. They were an inseparable pair.

...

Crooks had fallen to hopelessness, in the Underground. Only a few years before the Monsters were freed.

... Skull didn’t talk much about those last years. You didn’t ask. But Skull clearly never recovered from losing the last piece of his family. Deluding himself into believing that his brother was simply ‘out’ and would come home soon was his only way of coping. Of surviving.

Even now, he still wasn't good at being alone.

Skull was better, on the surface. He had new friends and acquaintances. New routines, new comforts. He had you- his partner. But sometimes, when he had bad days, he would slip back into the mental patterns that had kept him alive for so long.

... You wondered how many hours Skull had spent, alone in a silent home, down in the Underground. Waiting for Crooks to come back. Staring blankly at a door that would never open again.

...

You took his hand in both of yours. You played gently with his worn, cracked bones... giving him a little more time in a world where his brother was still alive.

...

“Skull?” You said, softly. “... I’m a bit hungry. Could you make me something?”

That was the only thing that ever worked.

...

His eyelight shifted. Then blossomed a little wider... his mouth started to make minute movements, like he was sleeptalking.

“... hungry.” He eventually said aloud. His hand twitched, then carefully curled around yours- he sounded like he still wasn’t all there.

“Yes.”

“... she’s hungry...” His eyelight flickered again. “... get up... she’s... hungry...” 

Skull swayed slightly, then stood. You stood with him... he lumbered to the kitchen, but kept a tight hold of your hand, taking you with him.

...

He was already cutting the steak, when you saw him ‘wake up’. 

There was a noticeable pause, in his ministrations. The previously almost-robotic movements of the knife slowed to a halt. You saw his eyelight shiver... he blinked, then started slowly looking around at the room. 

His line of sight focused on a vase full of flowers. The two of you had set those up, around the house, always within line of sight. Things that would remind him he’s on the surface now.

Two seconds. Three, four...

...

“... sorry.” He mumbled, putting the knife down. There he was; Skull was back. He seemed embarrassed.

“Hey, hey.” You squeezed his hand. “No, don’t apologise. It’s okay. You just needed a minute.”

He sighed, forlorn. “i cut up our good steak...”

“Well. I’d rather you handled that steak than me. I don’t trust myself with something so nice.”

He snorted, trying to hold back his laughter. When he looked at you, his eyelight was big and shiny, and you felt a smile creep onto your face.

“... might as well cook it anyway.” He mumbled, taking the knife up again. “expensive steak for lunch, huh?”

“I’m not complaining.”

Another snort. He was grinning now.

He didn’t let go of your hand... you were impressed he cooked the whole meal one-handed.

[rowretro]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕳𝖆𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌

(picture found on tumblr)

✧Warnings: Violence, detailed ghost and gore, blood, a horror themed yandere story, dead bodies, possibly creepy dolls?, mafia demon Won (coz he has a gun in the pic, and I need him to be a demon in this story)

✧Synopsis: Y/n never found herself having to hide in her sweet penthouse, her $500 bottle of red wine spilled out of her crystal wine glass, the stunning door many envied, bloodied and broken. She found herself running, running into danger yet again... and the police were on a search for her, as she's now a missing person case. But Jungwon was on a hunt for her, making sure his darling is safe at all costs.

✧✭☆✧✭☆✧✭☆✧✭☆✭✧☆✭✧☆✭✧☆✭✧

Y/n's blood ran cold. one last audio recording of her discoveries on day 7 of surviving. Surviving what you ask? she doesn't even know what to call it. It's eyes blank white, blood surrounding it's pearly eyeballs, running down it's cracked porcelain skin, dried out, it's long hair, everywhere it trails. She learnt not to touch it or it'll immediately sense she's there. It couldn't see her, but it could hear her. it could hear how her blood pumped through her body, her somewhat heavy breathing but it never knew where she hid. She was in an abandoned school.... a University known for it's paranormal sightings. She'd ran into many bodies, of those who tried to escape, some were streamers, reporters who willingly walked into the death department, others seemed like students who tried to escape.

Yet somehow she managed to find out how to kill it... the monster. Finding random letters a woman named Angela Xiao wrote till her death. Y/n examined how the monster's nails went from plain dead, to growing, blinding white nails. The day time was when it was most safe, it never came out in the late, but y/n remained wary. But now it's winter. The nights longer than days, darkness lasting long. She couldn't remember the last time she slept soundly with her only worry being waking up late when she has a morning lecture.

She figured the monster wrote those letters, it was once a woman, forced into an abusive marriage with a man that hurt her always, until he had it, ripping out her ligaments whilst she was still alive, as the woman screamed bloody murder, according to the random news letters in the cold dead hands in some reporters. There was some talks of a kid's ghost that lurked the hallways too. Her heart ached for this woman, but she had to get rid of this.... cursed being. perhaps perform an exorcism?...

She found a lighter, checking if it'd still blaze up, unaware of her surroundings, when a sudden, gut wrenching, ear-piercing scream shook her. There it was, the monster. Not expecting anything to happen but at least slow the thing down, she set it on fire, running off and hiding. but it kept screaming in agony, its body burning up, as it disappeared to ashes.... Y/n's eyes grew wide as she saw a much prettier woman in the form of a ghost, staring around at the bloodied mess, looking quite hurt... It saw y/n, and left behind a key....

It was the key to get out of this place physically. Hopeful yet extremely cautious, she picked up the key. The sound of clinking, echoed the empty hallways, not too far. That can't be right... she hid in the closet, watching as the shadow grew bigger. Her heart dropped at the sight. another one? she wondered as she saw the porcelain mannequin, walking robotically, its hair looking like an elegant wig a woman's love to wear, a red bow tied around it. the strappy red dress looked like a dress she had worn to a friend's frat party.

Those red glass heels looked as fragile as it's ceramic, glossy skin. "I know you're in here human... I can smell your yummy blood... oh don't be shy come out! it'll only hurt a little... I just wanna tear you open and eat your insides whilst u scream in pain!" it said with an eerily sweet voice. She calmed her breath, hiding well, she saw its face. pupils black, lashes drawn on, like a man had made himself a pretty wife in the 1950's, except it looked creepy, sure it possessed the beauty standards one'd expect in a woman, that were so unrealistic. but it's mouth area was broken off, and it's bloodied teeth, with some skin evident in between.

"Come out dear girl... I can see your dark hair.... what such pretty skin you have there......" she commented as Y/n swallowed hard. "THERE YOU ARE!" it screamed as y/n felt herself giving up, reaching for the blade to end her sorrows so she wont face the pain. as it's cold hands grabbed her shoulders, and opened its jaw revealing many rows of bloodied, long sharp teeth, y/n couldn't help but scream. Yet it dropped dead. glass shattering, soul arising from the shatterred, creepy mess off porcelain and disappearing. Y/n breathed heavily, as she finally cried.

"Fuck it's ok, its ok.... I'm here y/n...." a familliar voice said, Jungwon, the sweet boy in her class, the man she had a crush on.... but... he looked different. Gun in hand, black, featherred wings that had sprouted out his back. She backed away, repeating the word no, scared he's just an illusion. "shh shh.... I promise it is me.... I've been looking for you everywhere.... I didn't know that the curses still lived on earth- but trust me, you're safe with me.... look me in the eyes sweetheart." he said as y/n did so. and she immediately felt his sincerity.

As the police bought her story, and discovered the many dead bodies, they pinned their target, the man who started the curse of course, The man who had killed his wife and child. To the police however, he was a psychotic serial killer who killed every one there brutally and had gotten away with it for dozens of years. Y/n was in Jungwon's home, getting a little used to his demon abilities, and his dear friend Jay who casually sipped out of a blood bag before her. Jungwon could feel she was scared.... god it hurt him that she was so shaken up, in such a condition for about a week.

But he loved it, he loves how she grew so dependant on him... How she dragged him with her everywhere, how he helped her shower, delicately scrubbing the soap on her soft skin, wary of the wounds and cuts. He's loving how she's currently snuggling into his embrace, dressed in one of her short yet comfortable nightgowns, needy for his reassurance. See if something like this never happened, he couldn't have gotten her attention..... The haunting was all that was needed to get her to love him... And he will make sure she'll forever love him. She has no choice, only he can protect her, and only he can love her....

✧✭☆✧✭☆✧✭☆✧✭☆✭✧☆✭✧☆✭✧☆✭✧

A/n: I'm gonna have nightmares for picturing this- but I hope u enjoyed, comment how u feel, and if u want me to make it up to you w a fluff- or maybe smut idk yet(shoot me w some requests, ill try)

[kitasgloves]

"Bound"

tracklist

— ♬ "You realize how fine she is. She's just what you've been looking for"

— ♬ Ushijima x Reader, SFW, timeskip, fem reader, strangers to friends to lovers, no beta

Usually, Ushijima Wakatoshi left no room for miscalculation. For a long time, he lived with logic and facts. He made no unnecessary actions and did what he thought was fit. He received comments calling him some robot, he understood where it came from but never understood if it was supposed to be a form of insult or harmless teasing. Nonetheless, he paid no attention to it. On the other hand, Ushijima received countless compliments regarding his looks and appreciated it to a certain extent. However, others had way more time in their hands to waste screaming deranged sentences about how they were 'down bad' or 'thirsting' over his physical physic. Ushijima doesn't want to elaborate further on how he felt about those sides of his fanbase.

The athlete had a stable support system from his father and friends, he's endlessly grateful for their support. Ushijima found himself contented with the people he surrounded himself with, he wasn't the kind to linger in crowds but rather the crowd tended to linger around him. After all, he was a famous athlete so he thought it was natural. People often approaching him for photos or autographs wasn't out of the norm but when you decided to approach him one evening, Ushijima was admittedly astonished.

"Hello"

You started with a mere hello. Ushijima peered to his left and saw you standing there with your glimmering dress and lipgloss shining under the chandelier lights. Tonight was an official gathering for Volleyball athletes, the program ended thirty-five minutes ago and everyone was free to scatter around and enjoy the evening. Fortunately, interviewers or the annoying paparazzi weren't allowed inside the venue.

"Hello"

Ushijima greeted back, he thought it was only polite. He didn't recognize you so you weren't an athlete, perhaps you were one of the staff, or maybe one of the organizers of the event.

"I'm [Surname] [Name]"

"Ushijima Wakatoshi"

"Oh, I know. Everybody knows the famous UshiWaka"

Then he learns your name and he instinctively replies with his. Of course, you knew him and he's used to people knowing who he was. Fame doesn't phase him. But what strikes him as perplexed is why you have decided to approach him.

"Would you like an autograph or a photo?"

"Oh, no thank you! I was wondering if you fancy chatting with me"

"Hm"

He hummed, he thought it was harmless. He finishes his champagne and waits for you to talk, but you only stare at him through your thick lashes and sweet smile. Were you waiting for him to speak first? Now, he has no problem with that but he has to admit that he doesn't do it often. Ushijima adjusts his bowtie and clears his throat.

"How are you finding this evening?"

"Great! I hope you enjoyed your time here"

"Everything is well"

You nodded but didn't reply after. Ushijima finds it odd that his mind is scrambling to keep the conversation alive knowing he could stop talking if he wishes to and wait for you to walk away. But somehow, he doesn't want you to leave. So, the athlete racks his clever mind for anything to say to make you stay longer.

"Do you like chocolates, [Surname]-san?"

"Yes, I do"

"What do you think about volleyball?"

"I think it's a fantastic sport"

He asks you innocent questions to get you to open up and surprisingly it keeps the conversation going. Later, you start spurring hilarious stories about your friends and he'll take note of every detail. You'd share about the music you listen to and he finds your music taste similar to his as he'd share his input about his favorite songs. You and he talked and talked until the venue slowly emptied. You found your cue to leave but Ushijima frowns at that, he insists on walking you out and calling a ride for you.

"You're incredibly sweet, Ushijima-san"

"You can call me Wakatoshi"

"Okay, Wakatoshi"

You winked and Ushijima felt his chest flutter. He opened the car door for you as you waved him goodbye. He wonders when will he see you again because he keeps thinking about you that evening until his head rests on his pillow. He had no idea where to contact you until he brought your name up to Kuroo Tetsuro and by his luck, you happened to be his co-worker. Ushijima had a hold on your number within seconds thanks to Kuroo.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"This is Wakatoshi"

Ushijima can hear you gasping and falling out of your chair dramatically. There were a few chaotic noises on the other line until he heard your voice again. His chest flutters like it did previously.

"Hi! Did you need something? How did you get my number?"

"I got it from Kuroo"

"That sly cat..."

"I was wondering if you're free to eat dinner with me tomorrow evening"

"You want to eat dinner with me...?"

"Yes"

"Oh, what an honor! Sure! I'll go"

Your answer makes the corner of Ushijima's lips quirk up, it was so unusual that even he was taken aback. He consulted with Tendou Satori afterward via phone call and told him everything, he asked if he did the right thing. His best friend only laughs.

"Just do whatever makes your heartbeat go faster, Wakatoshi-kun"

Ushijima didn't understand it at first but when he finally sees you that evening, his heartbeat spikes up. You were wearing one of those dresses that makes him gulp. When you wrap your hand around his arm and go inside the restaurant, Ushijima gets the similar feeling he gets when he's playing on the volleyball court. During dinner, he notices your finer qualities. And the magic of your rare personality.

When dinner is finished, Ushijima lends you his coat when the evening gets windy. You keep his coat until he takes you home. That evening you reached to the tip of your toes to peck him on the cheek before softly shutting your door. Ushijima stood in front of the door, rigid. His hand creeps up to his cheek where you have kissed him. Suddenly, his face feels warm and his chest palpitates wildly. If he hadn't known any better, he thinks he's going down with something.

But he knew what this was. He has read the shoujo mangas Tendou was recommending to him and watched the romcoms available on his television. Ushijima was falling in love. It seemed so foreign yet natural to experience it for the first time. He never prioritized romance during his high school days, having a girlfriend never crossed his mind. However, when you came into the picture, he thought he wouldn't mind having you as his girlfriend.

Ushijima takes his time to woo you, to see if you could return his feelings. He took you to meet his friends, he asked you to have dinner with his father, and he'd even gone far as to bring you to Paris with him to visit Tendou. On the trip back to the country, Ushijima knew he was head over heels for you. He asks what your sign is and he'll find you two are compatible. He realizes how fine you are. You were just what he was looking for.

Everything you did affected him greatly, you plagued his mind with your smile and scent, and he couldn't imagine another lifetime where he didn't meet you. So, as he asked you out on an aquarium date, he specified it was a date and not just one of your random hangouts, and you said yes, Ushijima felt so happy that he could do twenty sets of a volleyball match.

His cheeks ached from smiling as you pointed out every sea creature you saw and yelled out its name. His phone gallery was filled with pictures of you in every moment. When he admires the colorful jellyfish with you, he sucks in a breath and snakes a hand around your back. His heart skips a beat when you lean against him.

"Isn't this nice?"

"It is. I want to do this with you all the time"

"Me too, 'Toshi"

"[Name]?"

"Yeah?"

"I like you"

You turn your head to face him and giggle. Ushijima couldn't deny it, he was bound to falling in love. He was bound to fall in love with you.

"I like you too, 'Toshi"

"So, will you be my girlfriend?"

"Of course, ya goofball!"

When Ushijima looks at you it is visible in his eyes. He was beyond lovestruck with you. From the tenderness in his features and the brightness of his smile. His heart wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

©kitasgloves (do not steal or copy)

[theoutcastrogue]

[From a 2014 article by John Darnielle of the Mountain Goats. He's talking about how a random spam email ended up inspiring a part of his book Wolf in White Van. Later, in 2020, the album Getting Into Knives came out, and I think it inspired its artwork too.]

"It took years for me to be able to just reflexively delete spam, or filter it so that I never see it at all. I blame the spammers for this; the quality of their work took a sharp nosedive at some point. But during whatever period of the internet’s growth you’d call the early 2000s, it seemed like you’d still get some winners: things that had been typed up by a person, sent out to a bunch of email addresses they’d bought or rented for 5 or 10 bucks from the only guy who was ever going to make any money in this particular exchange. Most of them went directly, if manually, into the trash; but once in a while, there’d be one that seemed to earn, at the very least, the minute it’d take me to read it.

The one I’m remembering here was subject-lined SUPPLY OF KNIVES. [...] The subject line opened on an all-caps email that boasted, in ornate, antiquated English appealing to the reader’s more refined sensibilities, about the high quality of the knives on offer at an external website. You shouldn’t click on links in spam email. I live my life on the razor’s edge! I clicked the link.

I want to tell you about these knives: They were beautiful. They were weird. They had elaborate designs in the handles, moons or stars of wolf heads, and special grips, and a variety of points. They were made from metals whose pedigrees were described lovingly, and had been struck — smithed? wrought? — via processes I knew absolutely nothing about, but that sounded fantastic, difficult, arcane. It’s the joy of specialized language: When you’re an outsider to it, it can’t help but sound cool.

Of course this is the whole idea of any operation like this. SUPPLY OF KNIVES could well have been, and probably was, a company in Ohio who’d stumbled across an old warehouse full of knives, and knew enough about sales to describe these things in the most exotic terms they could find. I’m pretty immune to pitches: Who likes to feel like he’s being pitched? But somebody involved with SUPPLY OF KNIVES had had just enough authorial flair — that, or true faith — to caption each knife’s mysterious, blurry accompanying JPEG with a description whose constant recourse to specialized vocabularies seemed to say, “You’re not even reading this unless you already know about this sort of thing. Let us therefore speak like the fellow travelers we are.”

It was like a trade catalog for roadside bandits in need of knives.

I can’t speak for everybody, but I know that when I was a child the life of the roadside bandit seemed like a pretty romantic way to go. I looked at all these knives and read the descriptions and was just generally delighted about the whole thing, so I saved the email in a “memorable spam” folder I used to keep that had maybe two other emails in it. A few years later, Apple came out with this robotic-arm-screen iMac you never see any more, and we were long overdue for a new computer so we got that; and then, after a while, I got myself a laptop, because I was traveling all the time, and eventually both the old iMacs ended up in the basement, and they were both asleep but alive until fairly recently, as far as I knew.

But when I went to check for the email, it was gone. The old blue iMac is dead, bricked, lifeless. Searches on the term “supply of knives” on this laptop and on good old robot-arm-screen find nothing. The backup CD for the blue iMac drive is probably in a drawer around here somewhere, but that’s like saying, “The coin I had in my swim trunks’ pocket is probably somewhere in the ocean.” There is no SUPPLY OF KNIVES. There’s only the memory."

[source]

And this is the wonderful cover art of Getting Into Knives. Back cover and promo material below. Note that "Knives International" and "Knives Wordwide" are not real companies, they appear to be a callback to that elusive spam email.

[tripleglitchwriting]

Kinesthesis 3

Jazz/Prowl/HumanReader first contact AU

Part 2

I am so sorry this took so long 😭 but I finally got something out! This was written over the course of multiple months so if it’s inconsistent that’s why. Over my impromptu hiatus I’ve grown as a writer and as a person so that will probably change the way this story goes, but not to worry! I still plan on carrying on with this fic.

Be aware that I may not remember things about that last two chapters before this because it’s been a while. If you find any mistakes, let me know!

Also, thank you to the anons that encouraged me to keep going! This one goes out to you.

So, now you have quite a few problems. Not only were the ‘robots’ alive, they were also obviously damaged and asking for your help. Your help. Of all people. You still didn’t know where they came from, if someone was piloting them, how they got here, what that blue liquid was, or why one of them only made weird metallic scratching sounds. That one in particular really freaked you out when it first started ‘speaking’. At the time, you immediately assumed there was a metal demon somewhere coming to eat you.

Instead of that, they were just giant robots asking for your help in the middle of asscrack nowhere. Very simple. Foolproof, even. Nothing wrong there.

“I’m… going to get to work.” You told the one apparently named ‘Prowl’. He didn’t make any sputtering noises at you this time, so you took that as your go-ahead.

He was huge. Well, you knew that, but it was still jarring. You had to literally climb him to get to his wounds. Delicately placing your rag to the injured spot on his neck, you could feel the pump of something akin to a heart under the metal. Now that was weird. Wait, maybe it was just a fuel pump of somesort. He couldn’t… it couldn't have an actual heartbeat, right? Robots don’t have heartbeats.

That isn’t possible.

After a bit of cleaning up blue liquid and trying not to cut yourself on shards of metal, a realization dawned on you. These guys were more complicated than you thought. Really, a robot shouldn’t have this much… everything. They shouldn’t have half of whatever parts are in them. What kind of coding was driving them anyway? What fuel did they even use? The blue stuff?

Oh, who are you kidding. They aren’t robots. They can’t be. They can’t just be robots. They fell from the sky, of course they can’t be robots! Your heart picked up its already erratic pace, yet even with shaky hands, your work took priority.

Soon after there wasn’t a hole in Prowl anymore. Not one on his neck, anyway. You counted that as a win. But seeing as there were way more lacerations, dents, and cuts all over both of them, you definitely had the rest of your work cut out for you.

Simple. Foolproof, even. Nothing wrong there.

—---------------------

Jazz, with his sight still mostly busted, anxiously awaited some sort of indicator that the person helping them was actually patching up Prowl. They seemed pretty stunned earlier. Scared. He had assumed they’d run away and get help. That would be a more reasonable reaction, right?

Obviously it was probably better that they didn’t, this was a completely new planet after all. They’d be scrap if it weren’t for this random person helping them out. This person that is native to this new planet. With… no knowledge of Cybertronian biology- oh scrap. This person had no idea what they were doing!

“W – it! Wa– a - i!” Staticy, barely understandable garble came out of his vocalizer. He heard a tiny peep out of the little guy and a kind of ‘hrmph’ from Prowl.

“What? What is it? Did I do something wrong?” They squeaked in a comically high-pitch tone. “I- I’m sorry, I- know mechanics but this is kind of different and I don’t want to hurt anybody I just-”

“Y- yo- u kno- me- c– nics?”

“Um, yeah, it’s what I do. For school.”

“S- – -ry f’r t--e frig–t, I’m j-st co– m– in’ to–my–sen s- s- ses, an’ rel-i’ed wher– we ar’... an’ I don’ kn- kn- kn- – -w… ca—n– ya- re- – -y fi- x us?”

“O- oh, n- now yo- -y questi- on it?” Prowl commented from the sidelines. Jazz deliberately ignored him.

“I mean, I can, I just need some time to figure everything out… i- it doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“W- Wha-t’s’t sayi- in- ing?”

“A- askin’ i- if it- it- it- hu- – -ts.”

“O- of co- rs’ it h-urts!”

“Wait, what’s he saying?”

Jazz cringed for a moment, realizing just how taxing it’s going to be on him to keep translating. Of course, he decided to use it to his advantage. Why not have some fun in the face of certain death?

“H- he s’ys h’s t—ckl’sh.”

“Oh, um, okay. Does that mean you guys can’t feel pain? Like, can I go harder with this? I have some power tools I can use back in—” Okay. Bad plan.

“N- N- N-O we C- – -N Fe’L It!”

“Oh, um, can or can’t?”

“C- C- C- C- CAAIIIEEEZZZZzzzt!” His vocalizer gave off a pointedly unpleasant sound just before shorting out.

“Is that… should I know what that means?” Jazz took a second to reset his vocalizer.

“N- n- n- o… b- b’t w– fe’l pa’n… i–t h- – -rts…”

“Can feel pain, got it. Um, is your voice okay? I can try fixing it… if that’s a thing I can fix…?” As much as he appreciated the gesture, Jazz wasn’t ready for that kind of operation.

“N- n - o thn’ks.”

“Alright… I’m gonna keep going here then.”

It was then, nearly offline, cut off from most forms of communication, on a completely alien planet, that Jazz realized this might be a little bit too much to handle.

“Y- y- you—re an ‘di—ot.”

“M- ay’e… bu— ‘least I c’n t- t- ta-k to ou- fr’nd ‘ere.”

“It’s Wh—lja’k, o- of c-cou’se I d- di—-nnooowoowOWW!” Jazz heard a loud crash followed by a tiny scream.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry, what did I do? I- I didn’t know, oh my god…”

“Wh—t? —at ‘appe— d?!”

“I- I’m sorry, I think I hit something, I’m so sorry!”

“Pr—ler? P—owl!?”

He got a groan in response. A groan and a new, distinct, clear sound.

“—bbzzzt —- bzzzt ——tobots! This is Optim— —ime. If yo- can hear thi-, heed my call. The Arc is inoperable. Most of you are scattered across an alien world. While I do not know where the Decepticons have landed, I can confirm they are on the planet with us. Do not lose hope here, my friends. For the fate of Cybertron and the remaining Autobots rests in your capable servos. Attached to this message are the coordinates to the Arc, I will be waiting for you there. Good luck—- bzzzt —— bzzzt—-!”

The three sat in silence. While he couldn’t see the hologram that was most likely coming from Prowl’s projector, he heard what the message contained. They were safe. Optimus was safe. And he once again had a goal to achieve.

“Wh- what the hell was that!?”

“Th’nk Pri—us…” Prowl whispered.

“It -as… a- a- f- fri—nd.”

“Oh, okay. What did your friend say?”

“Th— w- we ha— so—me-here t- be.” Jazz attempted to move his body, but was once again denied. “W- we n- n- ne—d to g—-!”

“Hey, woah woah woah! You are not well enough to get up yet! I haven’t even started patching you up!”

“Aau—augh! I- I- kn— Ratc— uh, I- I- I kno—“

“Settle down. I- I’ll be as fast as I can, alright?”

Jazz huffed in halfhearted agreement. Prowl, on the other hand…

—---------------------

He thought this was an incredible waste of their time. Oh, sure, he needed to be fixed, but he was doing just fine now and he did not need help from a mysterious stranger he couldn’t understand. How could he, Prowl of Petrex, need the help of a tiny little creature like this one? There was no such need. The only need he had was to get himself and Jazz functional again, report back to Optimus, and win the war.

He tried to get up. After about half a second of metal creaking, unconscious groaning, and a little squeak from his benefactor, his body gave out. His spark burned with a searing mixture of frustration and stress as he tried to clench a servo. But of course he couldn’t. Of course he was stuck. Injured, vulnerable, and useless. But still, Optimus needed him. Needed them. So he needed to get up!

“C- cal- m d- do— n Pr—‘er… ye’ sca- a- rin’ ‘em…” He could hear panicked chittering from somewhere on top of him. He had half a mind to shoo the thing away, but even if he could raise his servo, he knew this was his only hope. He would never admit that, obviously, but deep in his spark he knew.

He didn’t respond to Jazz. He didn’t need to. He just focused on the little twinge of pain somewhere atop his chassis and a wound being sealed. A familiar feeling. Not too familiar, not like this, but enough to be comforting.

He imagined the medbay in the Arc. That time when they defeated the enemy and no one had to die. They won, and everyone cheered and celebrated and did whatever people do to express joy during a war.

He was unconscious for cycles. Just because nobody died doesn’t mean nobody was hurt. And he was really, really hurt. But it didn’t matter, not even to him. Moments like that are rare, after all. When one could rejoice without mourning the loss of a friend. He’d only expected Ratchet or First Aid to stay with him during that time. Who wouldn’t want to celebrate the spoils of victory? No one is willing to give up a moment of solace like that. No one is stupid enough to pass up the opportunity for happiness. Except Jazz.

Jazz stayed with him the whole time. He stayed by his bedside, refusing to leave once the required surgery was over. He brought glasses of energon for both of them. To share.

Prowl didn’t wake up then. He missed the party and the congratulations and the relief. He missed Jazz telling him stories and about his day. He missed when the rest of the crew stopped by to check on him. When he did finally come out of stasis, Jazz wasn’t there. Not of his own volition, but because he passed out on the floor due to exhaustion. They both got a long lecture about taking care of themself from Ratchet when it was over.

And Jazz is there, now, still with him. Bleeding out and broken, but still there. And Prowl was powerless to help him. His HUD sang one final message in his head before it went suddenly silent, and he fell helplessly into the deep abyss of stasis.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

(Hazbin Hotel request) I would like to request headcannons for how Charlie, Alastor, Angel Dust, and Lucifer would be around a friend/partner who is bilingual and likes to sing songs in their native language to themselves/when they are alone (I hope this made sense my English isnt the best)

Charlie (Platonic/German)

You didn't necessarily hide the fact that you spoke a different language; you just didn't flaunt it.

When you were alive, you grew up in a bilingual household, your mother speaking German and your father English.

It was natural that you picked up a few words or two, mainly because your mother only spoke German to you.

The hotel was used to regularly hearing you cuss in German, so it was typical for everyone.

The day Charlie walked by your room and heard you singing in German was a spectacle.

She was so excited to hear the dialect and the articulations you used.

When you finished, she busted into your room and asked you to sing again, rightfully scaring you.

You inevitably agree because she is so adorable when she asks and sing for her once again.

From there, Charlie sits in your room nightly to learn new words and hear you sing.

Alastor (Romantic/French)

You were really reserved about your secondary language. Especially when you met Alastor.

Your parents talked to you in the language plenty, but you were afraid that you would sound robotic and he would judge you.

As time progressed and French accidentally slipped out, Alastor found you attractive; no one else in the hotel knew what he said.

One night at the bar, Alastor slid in next to you while talking to Husk and began speaking to you in perfect French. You did a spit-take and laughed.

When you two started dating, Alastor took it upon himself to teach you how to converse better with a Creole person.

After a long session with him, you returned to your room, singing softly under your breath a song your papa had sung.

Alastor shadows heard your perfect articulations and immediately got Alastor.

He was astonished to hear you singing so fluently as he phased through the shadows in your room behind you.

Once you finished, he immediately asked you for another song scaring you. One kiss and a song later, though, and you were content to share this part of your life with him.

Angel Dust (Platonic/Italian)

You grew up in Italy with your family for a portion of your life, which gave you an understanding of the language.

When you came to the hotel and met Angel Dust, you two became fast friends. He wanted to know what mob bosses from Italy were like.

You would teach him words that he didn't quite know and he would teach you about mob culture in America.

Angels porn star life would strian your friendship just do to his long grueling hours and your desire to help him out of his deal.

After a particularly heated fight between you two due to his boss, you stormed off and went to the bar.

Drinking your glass Husk gave you and thinking about the argument left you blue.

You began to hum a soft tune, eventually ending up entirely singing it.

When Angel calmed down, he felt bad for treating his friend poorly and went to find you.

That was till he heard your song and was immediately enamored.

He wanted you to sing to him every night after work instead of fighting from then on.

Lucifer (Romantic/Spanish)

Spanish was spoken around you from the day you were born. From your family to neighbors, even friends at school. It was natural you learned some of it.

You were always told it was the language of romance, and though you could see why, you also never thought too much about it.

When you met Lucifer and heard your accent, he was immediately curious about you.

He would talk to you for hours to hear your voice and even dream of it later.

When Lucifer finally confessed his feelings for you, the cherry on top was you confessing in Spanish.

Lucifer never asked how much you knew; he took what he could when you spoke.

However, the night he walked into your shared room and heard you singing a song in Spanish, he was whipped.

He begged for hours for you to just sing the same song repeatedly, a big cheesy smile on his face.

[deezee112]

A Decision to Make

Chapter 1 | The worst ending 1

A/N : I decided to make a part 2 because I saw that people liked my little idea. I'm so glad you liked it!

If this chapter is finished, I will go write the "worst ending" which is the boys.

Warning : This story contains themes of psychological tension , unease , an unsettling relationship dynamic between a protagonist and a mysterious humanoid object , y/n is a hot-tempered and tall person.

English is not my first language.

You stared at the doll, now seated upright on you couch, its unsettlingly realistic features illuminated by the soft morning light filtering through your apartment’s curtains. The doll no, the child was unlike anything you had ever seen.

It was designed to look like a young boy, somewhere between eight and twelve years old. Its face was delicate, almost too perfect, with skin that looked touchably soft, faintly blushed cheeks, and glassy eyes that seemed to follow your every move. It wore a simple outfit a plain shirt and pants that looked like they’d been picked out of a catalog

You crossed you arms, narrowing your eyes at it. “ So, this is my life now, huh? Babysitting a hyper realistic doll while Crowley pretends this is normal. ”

The doll, of course, didn’t respond. It simply sat there, motionless and silent, but its very presence seemed to dominate the room.

You walked to the kitchen and poured youself another cup of coffee. You mind was spinning as you tried to process the absurdity of the situation. Crowley hadn’t given you any real instructions beyond vague platitudes about care and confidentiality. What exactly was you supposed to do with it? Did it have a purpose? Could it think?

As the rich scent of coffee filled the air, you leaned against the counter and stared at the doll from afar. “ I should just return it. March back into that office and tell Crowley he’s out of his mind. Let someone else deal with this. ”

But even as you said the words, you knew you wouldn’t. Crowley had a way of making you feel trapped. Four years of working under him had taught you that refusing his " special assignments " only led to more trouble. And besides…

Your glanced at the doll again, you frown deepening. There was something about it something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It wasn’t just its unsettling realism. It was the way it seemed to be there, as though it were more than just an object.

“ Damn it ” you muttered, taking a sip of your coffee. “ Why do I always get stuck with the weird stuff? ”

After finishing you breakfast, You decided to get a closer look at you peculiar new charge. You approached the doll cautiously, half expecting it to suddenly blink or move. When it didn’t, you crouched down in front of it, you eyes scanning its face.

Its expression was neutral but oddly serene, like a child caught mid thought. The craftsmanship was impeccable every detail, from the faint freckles on its nose to the slight sheen on its lips, was painstakingly precise. You reached out and touched its hand, startled by how warm it felt.

“ This is insane ” you muttered, pulling your hand back quickly.

You circled the doll, inspecting it from all angles. There didn’t seem to be any obvious signs of robotics no seams, no wires, no panels. Yet it wasn’t purely-organic either. It existed in some strange in between state, blurring the lines between artificial and alive.

“ What are you, exactly? ” you asked aloud, as if expecting an answer.

Silence

" cool... " You cross your arms and With a sigh, you sat down on the couch beside it, keeping a cautious distance. “ Okay. Let’s think about this logically. Crowley wouldn’t give me something dangerous… probably. So, either this is some kind of advanced tech demo, or it’s… I don’t know, magic? ”

The word felt ridiculous on you tongue, but considering who you boss was, it wasn’t entirely out of the question. Crowley had always had a flair for the dramatic, and you wouldn’t put it past him to pull something out of left field.

You leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. “ Why me? Why not someone else? Someone who actually likes kids? ”

The doll remained silent, unmoving.

As the hours passed, You found yourself pacing the apartment, you thoughts racing. What was you supposed to do with it? Was you really expected to raise it like a child? That couldn’t be right—could it?

You phone buzzed on the counter, breaking you train of thought. You grabbed it and saw another message from Crowley.

How’s it going with the little one? Don’t forget feed it, talk to it, treat it like a real child. These are crucial developmental stages, after all!

You groaned, resisting the urge to throw you phone across the room. “ Treat it like a real child ” you muttered. “ Sure, why not? Because this is totally normal... ”

You set the phone down and glanced back at the doll. Despite you initial resistance, you found herself feeling a pang of… something. Pity? Responsibility? You wasn’t sure. But the idea of simply ignoring it felt wrong.

“ Fine ” you said aloud, rubbing you temples. “ Let’s see what you can do. ”

You spent the next hour tentatively testing the doll’s capabilities. Your offered it a glass of water, surprised when it tilted its head slightly and opened its mouth to drink. You spoke to it, asking simple questions, though it didn’t respond verbally. Instead, it blinked slowly or nodded, its movements smooth and eerily lifelike.

When you touched its hand again, it gripped your faintly, its skin warm and soft. You couldn’t shake the feeling that it was trying to communicate, even without words.

By the time the sun began to set, Your was sitting on the floor in front of the doll, studying it intently. It was undeniably strange, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. There was something almost endearing about its childlike mannerisms, the way it tilted its head when you spoke or blinked up at your with those unnervingly realistic eyes.

“ So, you eat, you drink, and you blink ” you said, ticking off items on your fingers. “ But you don’t talk. Or walk. Or do anything remotely useful. Great. Just great. ”

The doll blinked at you, its expression unchanging.

You sighed, leaning back against the couch. “ What am I supposed to do with you? Crowley really expects me to raise you like a kid? That’s insane. ”

But even as you said it, you couldn’t deny the faint flicker of curiosity growing inside you. What if your did try? What if you treated it like a real child, just to see what would happen?

You stared at the doll for a long moment, weighing you options. You could call Crowley and demand he take it back, or you could…

You shook you head, a wry smile tugging at you lips. “ This is ridiculous. ”

The doll tilted its head slightly, as if sensing you hesitation.

“ Okay ” you said finally, running a hand through you hair. “ Let’s give this a shot. But if you start moving around on your own, I’m locking you in a closet, got it? ”

The doll blinked again.

You chuckled despite yourself. “ All right, then. I guess the first step is figuring out what to call you. ”

You leaned forward, studying its face. There was something neutral about its features, neither overtly feminine nor masculine. It felt like a blank canvas, waiting for you to paint it with meaning.

“ Okay ” you said slowly, a faint smile playing at you lips. “ What should I name you? ”

The doll’s glassy eyes seemed to shimmer faintly in the fading light, and for a moment, You could have sworn she saw a flicker of recognition in its gaze.

But it was probably just you imagination.

[eveledoze]

spoilers for ep7 ! things about N and Uzi i wanted to point out 2/?

I like that he smiled at Nori's words, as if he himself met his old friend. but in reality it's not that cool. he seemed familiar to her, so did she see him before? again thoughts that it was he who killed her body huh (while her heart remained alive)

Nori turned out to be not as silly and playful as we all thought (which is sad a lil bit), but on the other hand she is quite a badass and confident woman. and it makes me wonder more about what she saw in Khan... but hey, despite some time apart she calls him hunk! i hope that if she is reunited with him, she will find a new body for herself, since it will be awkward to meet only the heart of your wife-

hearing N say Khan's name, Nori becomes tense. what kind of friends does my daughter have huh

after Nori tells a little story, N acts sweet and friendly as always, clapping for her, and Nori throws a rock at him, telling him to stop. i love how much she looks like her daughter, she does things to make N stop doing stupid things btw it’s funny that she, being a small body, chained him, such a big one, to the wall with a pickaxe for safety

when she asks who is the host of the solver at the moment, N smiles slightly, saying "Uzi", despite the fact that the situation is tense

ok, I didn’t understand this moment right away, but now I understand. "which one (Doll or Uzi) tried to eat us right now?" he realizes that it is none of them

he says in such a joyful tone “she will fall when she finds out that I met her mother” :з but then Nori pinned him to the wall again, forcing him to remain silent about it. it's funny how she openly admits that she is the cause of all the nightmares in Uzi's life, so she thinks that if Uzi finds out she is alive, it will cause problems. N says in a decisive tone that he doesn't want to keep secrets from Uzi anymore, since he has already seen what this can lead to - a loss of trust. the moment from ep2 when he wanted to touch her shoulder, but she backed away, and when just recently he went to her, but she stepped back. seeing your loved one afraid of you and losing trust in you is a very painful thing

she presses the cross on him so hard that cracks appear on the ground, she is really serious

N promises, after which she looks a little surprised and as if grateful, but then she realizes that there will be some kind of catch

and she's not wrong. he got out of this situation so that he didn’t have to lie to Uzi and keep everything secret. Nori rolls her eye, realizing that it couldn’t have been otherwise and this guy wouldn’t be convinced and yeah she said THE LIINEEE

wild N oh........that's something I think Nori told N that there is a way to weaken the solver so that it does not cause problems. and since he guessed that Tessa knew about this, now her pressure for N to choose the universe and not the little drone sounds strange. if it is possible to weaken/ get rid of/ heal of the solver, then why kill Uzi? and Tessa had a clear desire to get rid of the Uzi. in essence, she gave him free rein, saying that he will make the choice, but at the same time she said that he would have to choose the universe

after which he cuts off her head, with an X on his visor. it was intense. the robot disobeyed his boss and a good friend. not fully understanding who the person you knew for a long time was. did you make the right choice

he immediately woke up from shock when he saw Uzi's hand on the cross and started helping her get up. his voice sounds pitiful, worried, but at the same time joyful, since he saw her again after what happened. N's voice trembles a little, but he still sounds sincere. he doesn't want to scare her off again

oh yeah and now that line is heartbreaking- he extends his hand to her, he needs her and emphasizes the word "you"

when watching the teaser his "together?..." at the end of the phrase sounded uncertain, pleading, as if he wasn’t sure that she would agree to solve everything together. but now, watching it, I hear in his “together?” hope and joy, as if he understands that it is with her that he can overcome everything and figure things out, and he is glad that he was able to find her and she did not reject him. at the words "to figure things out.." he sounds uncertain, lost and a little sad, but then he sees her placing her hand in his. his cross disappears and at the same time he blushes. she was able to calm him down from shock simply by touching his hand.

i know that before this I made a post “if a character blushes it doesn’t mean they're in love” and I’m a little embarrassed, but damn.. it really looks like that in here, right? we know that Uzi was the first one who started to fall in love with him and after some time he started to develop feelings for her. and at this point he may have accepted it

and should I mention that they immediately lace their fingers together, whereas the last time they held hands it was very awkward for them?

and then he smiles