#now his family are all dead and it’s just him and he just owns a little plant/cafe shop

[sangunary]

very random but batfamily with a reader that just favors Tim. They have a whole space under his desk and everything. Eats his snacks, drinks his sodas, ect. Refuses to bond with anyone else, Tim and Reader might as well be conjoined twins. This can be normal batfamily or yandere batfamily it's completely up to you!<3

Batfam x Child Reader! (Platonic)

SYPNOSIS: Your family thought they adopted you, turns out you adopted only one of them.

IMP: PLATONIC, Reader is a child.

It was supposed to be a normal investigation, just two couples that got murdered in their own home.

When he enters another room he saw you, in your my little pony pajamas with a round red plushie with a poorly drawn face around your arms, completely oblivious to the brutal death of your parents.

He couldn't hell but let a slight smile, in such darkness there you were happy to see him. Happy to see a stranger in ridiculously dark clothes.

The room he found you in was no condition for such a ball of happiness, wallpaper teared, water dripping although it was summer, your bed was extremely mess ans solid hard.

He picked you up as you wrap your tiny arms around him clutching onto your plushie. No thoughts in your head as you look dead in his eyes, sucking onto your thumb.

"Ba-man"

You spoke, thumb still in your mouth as your lips parted to form a smile.

He was definitely going to adopt you now.

Your first day with the family was amazingly wonderful, everyone wanted to hold you or bite your cheeks for some reason.

You did choose your favourite from the start, Tim.

When anyone tried to pick you up while he holds you, you would simply turn away and wrap your arms around his neck so they won't seperate you.

Try feeding him anything you can hold onto, pulling his hair cause it was beautiful and you wanted them or the time you didn't stop crying for the whole day straight because Tim went to school.

As you grew older your favourite did not change to the disappointment of most.

Your room was never occupied by you and instead you slept next to Tim much to his dismay.

Unlike him you slept like you've never slept before plus you were deaf and can't feel any touch when you slept.

He would wake up with you on the floor still asleep and he would have to pick you up and make you face the wall, yet you still managed to end up at the bottom of the bed without him knowing.

You arm on his nose or your entire body ontop of him like a cat that want more warmth and will get it no matter what.

Under his desk was something else, a whole new place you had created.

Tim spent most of his time on the desk and you knew it, since you don't want him to be alone you build your own room under his desk.

Picture of my little pony, a chart that doesn't make sense but Tim would listen to you mumbled about it, food and drink, pillow and his jacket you used as pillow and books.

You would read aloud to him while he work on a case, you did have trouble reading and in the end Tim would just read the book with you and intentionally make mistakes so you won't be so embarassed.

Jason who didn't like this was trying so hard on the sideline to get you to drop Tim yet to his Disappointment you were stubborn.

"C'mon we can go watch my little pony till ten if you say im your favourite"

Jason have been trying for years to beat Tim and get the favourite. He tried to spend more times with you but it's impossible when you follow Tim like a duckling even waiting outside bathroom.

"I know you love Pony"

Jason was determine, it wasn't fair at all. You saw Tim call him a tomato and from that day you practically glue yourself onto him, he was way too happy for Jasons liking.

He already wanted to Bash his head for replacing him and now he wanted to throw his head throw a wall for getting all your affection.

"No, Timmy said no"

"You- When did you start listening to adults, you should be a rebel..."

"No"

Jason have never wanted to shake a child so hard just cause they weren't rebellious like he was.

Before Jason could continue his persuasion you saw Tim walk by and instantly went towards him, leaving the older male still kneeling on the ground with my little pony disc on his hand.

"...You like pony?"

Stephanie who just walk into the scene commented, with a wide smile.

"Shut it"

Jason left with the disc still on his hand, leaving Stephanie who was over the moon with her discovery to shout at him.

"Nothing wrong with liking ponies!"

Tim bought everything in two now, doesn't matter what he bought you would always swallow them without even knowing what it was.

It was honestly adorable, eating or drinking anything he ate because you wanted to grow up like him. For someone with short arms you could reach high.

If Tim was to eat something you would eat them without hesitation and proudly huff when you swallow.

You drank coffee once didn't sleep the entire night just went crazy around the house all night.

That's how they made you eat disgusting medicine, by making Tim eat something else that look alike to the medicine and faster then a cell could enter your brain you would chuck them down.

"C'mon brocoli is healthy, you'll grow up like me!"

Dick tried to convince you as he tried to push the food through your mother yet you stubbornly resisted.

And you resorted to pulling his hair, it doesn't hurt that much but it still does hurt and you were in no mood to let him go easily.

"Aouch! Geez, you pull real hard huh? Okay let go now no more brocoli"

Dick tried to gently pry your hands away from his hair but you wouldn't budge, pulling with all your might which hurt way more.

Before Dick could resort to yanking you and have you pull some hair out Tim walk in with no reaction to the current dilemma Dick was in.

Sat next to you and pick a brocoli and fed it to you, which you open your mouth without any second and chew, your hands remain on his hair.

"Tim, could you atleast get her to let go-"

"Let this be a punishment for you forcing her to eat when she obviously doesn't want to"

"She just ate, it's not the food it's the feeder!"

You didn't let go of his hair until Tim pick you up.

It was quite normal for people to mistake Tim as your father even tho you two look nothing alike.

Random mother's and elders or even workers praising him for being such a strong single father who loves his kid, Tim doesn't care about the comments. He absolutely found them hilarious.

"Bless your heart for stepping up for your child, the world need a father like you"

An old grandmother who was walking down the street would comment and Tim on the other hand just nod along with it, no denying or acception.

Even the journalists would intentionally made jokes about how Tim was more of a father than Bruce could be to you, and you thought Bruce was... Your distance uncle and not your father.

Every time anyone brought up the Wayne family and Tim or you is mentioned, everyone will agree that you adopted your own father while your adoptive father became your uncle.

You would hold his hands because they were comfortable unlike the others and if anyone tried to hold your hands, insult everywhere.

"Is your hand made out of cement...?"

"...Did your hand ran a marathon? Why so sweaty?"

"Did your hand ate a giant?"

"Your hand's have different gender"

"You hold onto me like im about to fly"

"No please"

"...Your fingers ate a snake"

"It should be illegal for you to hold hands"

Damian love's your fast mouth but hate it when it's towards him, he secretly tried to teach you how to fight Tim went wrong you ended up attacking him.

His plan backfired real bad.

Did they hate that you loves Tim so much while activity insulting them without even understanding your own word? Yes, they still love you.

It was as if you had adopted Tim solely and the rest were just extra benefit.

Tim loves the fact that you were so open about him being your favourite, he's a proud father of one which is you.

As much as the family love's you, you can only love one and that is your adopted father Tim.

Yes, you adopt your father.

[nightingale-prompts]

(This 100% an excuse to write a toxic grieving dependent relationship)

It was never about what Tim had with Danny. It was the loss of potential that there could have been something. Everything just came so easy and moved so naturally but it wasn't romantic, at least not yet.

Danny was comforting. Always knowing what to say—when if his jokes were crude. He protected Tim not knowing that h was had everything handled.

In a single accidental shot he was gone.

It was unfair. It was all so fucking unfair!

So of course, Tim needed to fix this. He would fix everything. He just needed Danny's body and after a trip to the pits everything would be back to normal.

Hanging out, getting coffee, researching cold cases, and playing games.

But no one could find the body. Just that he was supposed to be buried. The body was in the morgue but someone stole it along with an assortment of unidentified bodies.

Tim had been investigating the case desperately trying to find the culprit.

What he did find was that the bodies were desecrated in the name of a sick cultist group. Most bodies were beyond recovery. All that was left for most of them were scattered skulls and bone fragments.

There was no way to recover Danny's remains or even identify them in the mound of bones. They tried but it was too difficult to assemble just one skeleton. So they were interred together in a mass grave.

Danny had become a placard with his name on it. One of many. And Tim couldn't bring him back. It was like the universe had done this specifically to fuck with him—like it knew what Tim had intended to do.

His family gave him space to grieve but the started to push him towards moving on. That was one thing Tim was notoriously bad at. When something was HIS he held on to it until it was torn from him. It was like that with the Robin title.

He just needed something to fill the void. Phantom became that.

He wasn't in love with Phantom. Danny in the way he died became defied in Tim's mind. The more he thought of Danny the more idealized he became further from the real thing. Could anyone compete with the dead?

Phantom reminded Tim of Danny. Tom had hoped but didn't ask if Phantom was Danny. He didn't want to know the truth either.

Tim loathed to admit it but he was just using Phantom. He pretended he was someone else and Phantom was no different. Phantom admitted that he left behind someone in life he cared about and that while they weren't in love he felt like he couldn't face them as he was now.

He said he was lonely but could manage it for now.

Tim had used that opening for incredibly selfish reasons.

How repugnant would it be to sleep with someone while imagining it was someone else? It wasn't even about sex, just the lack of connection they both felt. Tim guessed that ghosts also do stupid things like this just to feel something.

When it was over Tim would hold Phantom's face in his hands and look for any sign of Danny. Hoping that in his own twisted way, he could force himself to see him.

They always felt awful when it was over but it was also too cathartic to stop.

As long as it distracted him from the grief it was good enough.

The thing he dreaded was any emotions getting involved. He didn't want Phantom. He just wanted his friend back.

Dead or Alive- DC X DP prompt

Tim Drake just watched his friend die.

It was supposed to be a lunch date meeting where they went over clues for cold cases. Danny loved true crime and mysteries but not as much as he loved astrological research. They worked so well together.

They were just going to get coffee and head over to Tim place when the most predictable thing happened.

Kidnappers.

It was always kidnappers. Someone always wanted something from Tim or Bruce so it had to happen once every few months. Tim must have relaxed since Damian was the go-to target these days.

They took both him and Danny because the idiots couldn't tell which was Tim. The description of black hair and blue eyes was all they looked for. Never mind the fact that their hairstyles and textures were different. Also, Danny didn't have blue eyes, he had central heterochromania so his eyes were green and blue. They didn't even have the same face shape. Danny had a softer and warmer eyes and a slightly chipped smile.

Uhg...these people were idiots.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Danny told them that he was the real Tim Drake. As Tim was making a plan and untie the ropes they dragged Danny away from him.

Tim still had that moment burned into his head.

"It's okay. It's going to be okay. I promise. Just close your eyes." Danny said between staggered breaths as the gun was pressed to his temple.

Then there was a bang...then a thud...and he was gone.

Tim couldn't hear anything other then the blood rushing passed his ear and the sting in his eyes. His heart felt like it last place in a marathon. Too fast and too slow all at once. The world blurred and all he could see were spots of red that dripped to the floor. He might have screamed. He might have cried. He didn't know.

He knew that by the time he got to Danny's side there was to pulse.

The body had to be taken from him.

Bruce had him take a extended break from patrols.

Not once did Tim believe Danny's last words. It was not okay. NOTHING WAS EVER GOING TO BE OKAY!

A week after the incident an entity was spotted flying around Gotham and Tim threw himself into solving the mystery to distract himself. But everything seemed to remind him of Danny. Especially when he finally found the creature and it had Danny's face.

(Inspired by that one Ivan the terrible painting.)

[dameronspector]

Willow (chapter 3)

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Fem!ExAvenger!Reader

Chapter Summary: One minute you were in the vault, the next you are living your worst nightmare. Bob is not who he seems and you’re becoming more and more intrigued by him. Bob comes up with a brilliant idea to escape the vault. John is acting weird. And are you seriously considering these people to be your team?

Warnings: Mentions of Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Death, Bob’s Bipolar is vaguely mentioned, Graphic Description of a car crash, Loss of a parent, Blood, Dead Body, Injuries, Fight scenes, Canon-typical violence, Void scenes, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Cursing, Found Family, Reader is mentioned to be short, Reader psychoanalyses for a tiny second, John Walker Hate- click off if you don't want to read that, light soulmate AU vibes, Reader has magical abilities of the goddess Hecate (eg: necromancy, pyrokinesis, hypnokinesis, dark magic, etc. you can find the rest on rioridanwiki!), that’s all i think!

PS: this is a work of fiction. I don't own any of these characters and I have made some changes to fit the storyline better and because it's an AU. I have taken all the information from google and riordanwiki. Incase I have gotten anything wrong, please let me know!

You came to with a gasp, eyes snapping open as if you had experienced one of those dreams where you feel like you're falling. Your neck was bent at an odd angle, legs tucked closely to your chest and the smell of leather tickling your nose.

There was constant movement underneath your body, your bleary eyes adjusting to your surroundings before coming face to face with the back of a black leather seat. You rubbed your eyes in confusion. Weren't you inside the vault right now?

As you sat up, you realised that you were inside a car. A moving car at that. The windows were rolled down, cool evening air soothing the bruises on your face, stray pieces of hair flying around freely. You felt at peace, oddly, even through the brain fog.

"Just an ordinary girl!

Sometimes I'm lazy, I get bored, I get scared, I feel ignored!-"

A high pitched voice broke you out of the stupor. Your spine straightened up.

You have been here before.

"I get happy, I get silly!", a strong male voice.

There's no way.

"Daddy?", you whispered in shock as you noticed your father's happy face in the rearview mirror, face split up with a smile, making his wrinkles prominent, his hair blowing in the wind and left hand snapping along to the song.

Next to him was a little girl, no older than 10, wearing a white t-shirt and overalls, hair pulled up in a ponytail, her voice screaming out the lyrics of the Hannah Montana song, your favorite show.

You let out a loud gasp of realisation.

That was you.

"No. No no no-", you panicked as you realised what was going to happen in the next 10 minutes.

You lunged out of the seat and put a hand on your dad's shoulder, shaking him violently to get his attention.

"D-Dad. Stop. Please. Pull over- Daddy, please-", you let out in between choked gasps, your chest closing in itself.

He didn't listen. The car went along the highway, other cars zooming past, the sky painted in warm orange and pink shades of the sunset. Such a beautiful sunset and yet, it was the worst day of your life.

"Dad, stop-", you shook him once again, his shoulder shaking you off and looking at kid-you fondly, screaming the lyrics with her.

You let out a sob and tried to open the door, eyebrows scrunched together painfully. "Help! please. What is happening-please-", you begged to thin air, completely clueless as to who or what did this.

The door wouldn't budge, you tried slamming your body into it, making the whole car move. You casted a protection spell, tears blurring your vision and making the task difficult as you stumbled over your words.

Your hands glowed a bright purple, the pain and sorrow bleeding into your powers as it pulsed and formed a bubble against you. As soon as it reached the front seats, black tendrils popped out from behind you, wrapping around you tightly and restraining your arms. Your eyes widened as you thrashed against them.

"No! Leave me! Please, what-what the fuck is happening-Dad!", you were spewing gibberish at this point, your brain lagging between focusing on your incantation and releasing yourself from this invisible force. Your dad and kid-you still singing, him commenting about some idiot behind the car who wouldn't keep honking and flashing the headlights.

You couldn't help but think that this was one of the gods, or Hecate herself, testing you. For betraying the camp, for leaving behind your duties as a demi god. But you were snapped out of your thoughts when the honking got louder, your dad turned the music down and slowed the car, letting the asshole behind you pass.

"What's wrong, dad?", kid-you asked him.

"Don't know, honey. Some people have no manners", his face turned concerned as he took in the car's increasing speed and excessive honking.

"No! Stop this, please, please! Hecate, Hades, whoever it is-Please-", you begged as you sobbed harder, your face heating up and eyes swollen, legs and arms thrashing wildly against the force.

And then, it happened in a blink.

A Bright light blinded you.

Your dad swerved the car. Kid-you grabbed the door handle and your dad's sleeve tightly, lips tugged in a frown and fear stricken across your face.

Your dad leaned over to protect you.

And a loud slam shook the car before it skidded across the road violently and hit head first into the truck in front of your car.

The last thing you saw was your dad's bloody form draped over your lap, something had impaled his stomach, his blood transferring onto your overalls and white t shirt.

You sat there in the backseat, staring at your father's lifeless body, your small body trapped behind his heavy form, you and the kid version of you had the same expression, face wet with tears that you didn't feel and and mouth gaping like a fish out of water.

And then, a purple glow, a hand reaching out to pull you out of the car and-

You opened your eyes.

They first fell on Bob's unconscious form, his brown curls curtaining around his eyes. You blinked against the dizziness and then noticed that your hand was tightly clasped into Bob's warmer one.

He opened his delirious eyes, a sheen of spit coating his mouth and he looked at you guiltily. Blue eyes fell on your joined hands and he hastily left your hand, sitting up quickly before looking away from you in nervousness and shame, his shoulders hunched in.

You sat up with a wince, the back of your head throbbing incessantly along with a sharp pain shooting across your sides and back. You couldn't help but be perplexed with Bob's behavior. The confused eyes, the jittery hands, the drooling--something was off. But you were even more shocked and horrified at the hyper realistic dream you just had. You felt like you were living that car crash again. Your face was wet with all the crying and your chest felt like it was going to collapse, the ache in your lungs almost choking you, your hands a shaking mess.

"You okay?", You looked up and saw that Yelena had extended her hand in front of you, her face twisted in concern.

You swallowed thickly against the lump in your throat and nodded, before gingerly taking her hand and letting her pull you up. You let out a wince and Yelena supported your back, once again checking if you're okay and propped you against the wall when you affirmed yes.

You cast a healing spell on your body, your eyes closed in concentration and gentle waves of magic wrapping around you, soothing the injuries. Letting out a huge sigh after it was over, you leaned your head back against the wall in relief.

You didn't notice Bob's worried eyes drift over to your exhausted body, his heart aching with guilt and sorrow for you.

-

You had spent the last 10 minutes watching Ava and John bicker, Yelena consoling Bob and breaking the fight between Ava and John meanwhile Bob was muttering things to himself and pacing back and forth.

In the past few hours that you spent around him, you quickly realised that he carried that on-edge and jittery behaviour with him like a second skin. His hands and fingers were constantly fidgeting with each other and his eyes were always blown wide in alarm, like a new born foal taking in their surroundings.

Now, you didn't mean to psychoanalyse anyone but you wracked your brain for all the material that you had studied as a psychology student, trying to understand Bob's body language. You quickly shut the window off because you didn't want to label him as something he probably wasn't and kicked yourself mentally, chiding for thinking in such an unethical and grossly invasive way.

You shifted your attention away from him, not wanting to embarrass him (and yourself) when John had to ruin it with his big mouth.

"-Everyone has a reason to be here, except for this guy", he said out loud as he pointed at Bob. Bob kept pacing back and forth, mumbling to himself, and you glared Walker down.

"Hey, Bobby, less talking to yourself and more taking to us. Tell me how you got here right, goddamnit, now”, Walker kept aggressively poking Bob, who was slowly getting irritated by his tactics.

You narrowed your eyes at John, Yelena looking between the two men with interest and Ava staring Bob down.

“I swear, man, I just woke up in this place. One minute I was, you know, getting... my blood drawn for this medical study, And the next I'm here in my pajamas. I don't know what's going on”, Bob confessed, his arms spread out helplessly.

“Okay, then show me where you woke up. Go on”, John challenged and you made a face. Was he dense on purpose?

Bob looked around before pointing behind him, “In there..”

“Like it wasn’t already obvious, John, are you stupid on purpose?”, you seethed and Bob chuckled under his breath. Your lips twitched.

John clenched his hands into fists, jaw ticking in anger, “Where everything’s on fire. That’s really convenient.”

“You don't remember anything? A bag over your head and a needle in your neck?”, Ava asked in confusion, her gray eyes appearing paler in the low yellow light.

You looked at Bob in curiosity. Ava had a point.

Bob simply shrugged, “No.”

“Chokehold, nerve pinch?”, John pressed further.

“No”, Bob shrugged again.

“Okay, that’s enough”, you urged Ava and John. Yelena seemed to agree with you.

“Yeah, I think he's just a civilian.”

John scoffed, “If he's a civilian, he also knows too much. If he's an agent, he's useless. Either way, I say we throw him back into the fire.”

Bob bristled with annoyance, his face set into a grimace and you glared at John, your eyes turning purple. Yelena grabbed your hand, grounding you instantly.

Then suddenly, Bob laughed. A quiet yet raspy laugh, his loose body shaking with it.

“You said you're Captain America..”, he pointed at John.

John quirked an eyebrow, “Why are you laughing?”

“Just because you're an asshole, you know. It's just funny”, Bob laughed and shrugged in response.

Your eyes widened and you let out a loud cackle, Bob’s smile widening at that.

So, he did have some bite in him after all. You liked him even more now.

But John didn’t like that and he suddenly charged at Bob, hand going around his neck and slamming him into the wall, eyes wide with anger.

You and Yelena ran towards them, one of your hand tightly holding John’s wrist and the other one on Bob’s chest, Yelena stepping in between them to push John away from Bob.

Three things happened at once— your hand that was resting on Bob’s chest was turning unnaturally warm, John suddenly froze and stared at Bob with a shocked expression, and Bob had not moved much since John strangled him. It was then you decided to turn around to check on him and—

You almost thought you were staring at Apollo himself.

Bob’s gorgeous blue irises were now swirling with a golden ring, right in the middle, making them look like a solar eclipse of sorts. He wasn’t phased by John’s super strength, either.

Infact, Bob seemed to revel in the way he had riled the other man up, a satisfied smile stretched across his lips.

You had gone still. The hands on Bob’s chest and John’s wrist loosening, your body frozen on the spot and eyes fixated upon Bob’s enchanted ones. You had already suspected that there was something different about this man, right from the moment you set your eyes on him. That he wasn’t as unassuming as he presented himself to be.

His power was magnetic, you could feel it oozing off of him like the sun’s rays dispersing around the star. You were transfixed, staring at his beautiful golden-blue orbs before Yelena’s voice brought you back to the present.

“Hey, wait, okay, okay, wait, wait, wait. We've swing our tiny dicks around. It was very amusing. You go over there. Bob, come with me”, she instructed as she pushed John away and dragged Bob along with her, taking him to the opposite corner of the room and checking on him.

You just watched them go silently, your mind stuck at the image of Bob’s eyes.

“You saw that too, right?”, John’s voice murmured over your shoulder, his eyes following Bob’s movements too.

You glanced at John and swallowed, unsure of what to respond to his question. Because you knew John had seen what you had, too.

“Yeah. Let’s just…keep it between us for sometime, yeah?”, you replied lowly, eyes looking into John’s deeply, and to your surprise, that man agreed with you. He nodded his head hesitantly before pursing his lips and walking away.

You stood back, watching Bob converse with Yelena, his distressed face and irritation towards John rolling off of him in waves.

-

Bob’s POV

“No, I'm fine. I'm okay”, he reassured Yelena once again, his eyes flickering to where John and you were standing.

You see, the moment your eyes met across the room, he felt a tug in his chest. It was so strong, that he couldn’t help but be fixated on you, the purple glow of your powers drawing him in. Bob knew this was something special. He wasn’t on drugs anymore, so the chances of it being hallucinations and delusions were far. Yes, he did have those…phases, that he didn’t know what to call, but this wasn’t any of that. There was a connection. Like you had met before. Like you were meant to know each other.

He knew you had seen the way his eyes had changed. How the god hiding inside him was getting off of ridiculing John. Bob was still riding that high, the urge to land a punch on John was so strong, but he was just Regular Bob right now, and Regular Bob didn’t do combat. His hand would be destroyed if he tried to touch Walker’s super soldier body.

He’d also noticed the way his heart had lurched when you pressed your soft and tender hand on his chest. He had felt like he was lit up from inside, the feeling of your hand bleeding through the paper thin fabric of the scrubs he was wearing.

Nobody had touched him like that in a long, long time. So carefully and gently, like he deserved that softness.

But then came the soul crushing guilt of what he saw in the Void with you. Your father’s lifeless body draped across your 10 year old self like a protective blanket, his blood sprayed on you, both of your versions staring at the scene with horror and and shock, the way you'd screamed and begged for someone to help you.

He’d never forget that. And he’d never forgive himself for making you relive that.

He wouldn’t deny that he wasn’t in awe of your resilience, courage, and endurance. He didn’t know anything about you, yet he could feel that you had shouldered some of the worst battles like a warrior and emerged from it a better and bigger person. And inspite of all that, you chose kindness. You didn’t look at him with disgust or pity, you defended him against John, you checked on him when he was being attacked—Bob paused with a realisation.

He was already gone for you. And he didn’t know how to handle that. But he’d do anything to keep you away from him, to protect you and to make sure you never visit your shame rooms.

“You don't look okay”, Yelena snapped him out of his thoughts and observed him closely.

He shuffled in discomfort under her sharp gaze, “Yeah, well. We just met. This is just how I am.”

Yelena paused before continuing, “Oh? You…talking to yourself…?”

Bob shrugged, “Yes.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “You're being more aggressive.”

Bob sighed and pointed at John, “I mean, that guy's been a dick to me from the start”, his eyebrows drawn together in irritation.

“Ah, I get it. He sucks. But we have to work together to get out of here, so...”

He shrugged helplessly, as if he had already given up, “Well, you guys should just ditch me. It'll be easier.”

“Oh no, you’ll die down here”, Yelena chuckled, trying to dissipate the tense moment.

“Well, whatever. I think it's better for everyone if I...Just stay here”, Bob replied softly.

-

You were passing Bob and Yelena and abruptly stopped when you heard him say—

“Well, whatever. I think it's better for everyone if I...Just stay here.”

A sharp pain struck you from inside, his dejected and small voice piercing your heart, his words heavy with the signs of someone who was knee deep into a depressive episode.

God knows how many times you’ve had those. That one year where you had isolated, was basically you immersing yourself in practice and training so that you didn’t do something intrusive. The 5 years spent at camp were another version of that where you willingly entered in battles, in hopes to have something useful to do or to leave this world as a hero.

Hearing it from Bob, who’d tried nothing but to make himself as small as possible, who’d done everything to not be a hindrance, who’d looked at you like you were something magical—it hurt. You could feel the pain emanating off him. A pain that was so profound and deep, that crushed him under the weight of it. You didn’t know him, but it was like you had always known each other.

You clenched your hands into fists to stop yourself from interrupting their conversation, from giving him a stupid, corny and hypocritical speech about how he mattered, but you pulled yourself together.

This was the only time you’d be thankful for John’s interruption as he called out, “Ugh! Are you two done with therapy? I think I found a way out.”

You swallowed thickly against the lump in your throat, walking over to check out the exit that Walker had miraculously found.

-

The way out was an elevator shaft. That wasn’t working. Which means all of you were stuck in a cylindrical, enclosed space with no means of getting out of there.

“So, none of us can fly? Or do we just punch and shoot?”, Yelena asked from your right as all of you looked up, the shaft spreading in a never ending darkness.

“I mean, (Name), can you—?”, Bob asked you from your left, his blue eyes looking at you with hope.

You grimaced, “Uh-I can only do that for myself. If I did that for everyone, and for a long time, I’d pass out for days so, yeah.”

Bob winced. Ava rolled her eyes.

“It’s okay, don’t worry. I got this”, Walker announced smugly and jumped, his super strength launching him above and-

SLAM.

He landed by your feet, groaning in pain.

All of you snickered.

“You should try again”, Ava teased him with a grin on her face.

“We're pretty far down here”, Walker let out in between groans and stood up straight, heaving out a sigh.

“Hey, okay, why don't you just go through the walls or whatever and then throw us down a rope?”, he suggested Ava.

She made a face and sassily put her hands on her hips, “Yeah, well, first of all, someone else would have to ask me. And second, I have to know where I'm going because I've never been able to hold it for longer than a minute. So I'd just get lost in an ocean of earth and then I'd be crushed to death. Okay?”

Everyone was quiet for a moment before Walker quipped, “Just a minute?”

You pursed your lips.

“Oh, shut up”, Ava spit at him.

“God, we suck”, Yelena groaned and put her hands on her face.

Bob suddenly perked up next to you, “Oh. I have an idea”, a shy smile tugging at his lips. The rest of you stared at him with raised eyebrows.

-

Bob’s idea consisted of the five of you standing back to back, arms linked together and climbing the whole way up. Just like that. Without using your hands. Only by shuffling your feet from side to side on the walls.

And boy, was that the most annoying and difficult shit to do when you had four grown adults yapping away by your ear.

“Right, left, right-”

“Ugh! Which one of you is wet?!”

“I run hot, I’m sorry…”

“Someone has a weird hard butt..”

“That's not my butt, it's my suit.”

“Well, you need to get a new suit-”

“Oh, excuse me for the inconvenience. I mean, I only spent my entire life in it. Hooked up to machines so I could...create this physical cage to keep my body from disintegrating at all times!”, Ava said breathlessly.

You let out a low whistle, “Yeah, I'm really sorry about that.”

Your back, legs and arms were properly tired now. And your head was pounding from all the nonsense chatter around you. And if that wasn’t enough, you could feel a cramp crawling up your shin from putting too much pressure on your legs, your face twisted in pain.

“Are you okay…?”, Bob’s deep voice asked you in concern, his neck slightly turned to the side to look at you. He must’ve heard the slight winces that were leaving your mouth.

“Yep. Just—twisted my leg in the wrong way”, you said with gritted teeth.

“—Well, you were just a kid, so...”

“Oh, so that's a good thing?”

You groaned, “Please shut them up.”

Bob let out a quiet chuckle. Your stomach flipped at that.

In between all the chaos and talking, none of you actually took into consideration about how high up you were.

“This is crazy, I can't even see the floor”, John said.

“We're not talking about how high we are”, came up Bob’s strained voice.

You looked up, “You scared of heights?”

Bob nodded vehemently.

“Hey, I think I see the door”, John announced and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Okay, all right. Now what?”, Yelena asked.

“I guess one of us should go first.”

“Then the other three will fall.”

“Sorry, I don't think I really thought that far ahead…”, Bob sulked.

“Great plan, Bobby”, John chastised him.

Bob let out a self-deprecating laugh, “Always making things worse…”, his voice coming out small and vulnerable, like a child that was being scolded for breaking a pot.

Your face fell, hating the way he was making himself smaller again, your chest burning with the same ache.

“Hey, Bob”, you called him softly.

His head lifted up before slightly turning it to the side to let you know that he heard you.

“It’s a great idea. We’ve come so far. We’ll figure something out, don’t worry, yeah?”, you murmured so that only he could hear you.

A small smile tugged at his lips, which were once again coated with a sheen of spit. You had to fight the urge to wipe it off.

“You’re-you’re too kind, (Name)”, he replied in a shy manner, his voice catching at your name. Your heart beating faster at the way it rolled off his tongue.

You opened your mouth to speak, when John interrupted you once again.

“Hand me your staff, I can reach it”, he referred to Yelena’s batons.

“What? No way. You're just going to leave us.”

“Okay, spin us around and then I'll…catch you guys”, he offered hesitantly.

“I'm not spinning anybody around.”

“We’re gonna fall if we do that as well, genius”, you quipped.

“Okay, someone has to go first—”

“Cucumber! Cucumber, Cucumber”, Bob suddenly chanted next to you and you jumped at the sudden disturbance.

“What the hell is happening?!”, Yelena asked in confusion.

“Growing up, someone told me that you could stop a sneeze if you confused your brain. I always yelled "cucumber””, he confessed.

“Oh, that’s good”, you complimented him.

Bob shook his head side to side, “I need to sneeze.”

Your eyes widened.

“What-”

“But if I sneeze, you know, then I'm going to lose control-”, he let out between loud breaths.

“This is insane”, Ava groaned, shifting in discomfort.

“Okay, I can get us all out of here. I just need to go first”, John spoke next to you, his eyes trained at the door above your heads.

“No, no, no, no, no, no—”, Bob exclaimed and you were stressing out.

“It's gonna be like this-”

“Oh, no-”, Bob said and closed his eyes, as if preparing to sneeze.

All of you panicked and yelled a chorus of, “Cucumber, cucumber, cucumber, cucumber, Cucumber, cucumber, cucumber—”

“Just give it to me”, John told Yelena as he yanked her baton off her back and threw it at the door, causing the rest of you to lose balance and fall.

“FUCK!”, you yelled as you dropped, your stomach tensing with the shift in gravity and the others screamed in unison.

You managed to cast a safety spell just as you were falling, your magic encasing you in a sparkling bubble and you breathlessly hovered in the air. Meanwhile, Yelena hung off a chord, Ava inserted a hook in the metal walls and steadied herself against them, her boots skidding across, and Bob was hanging upside down from Yelena’s wrist chords.

He let out a tiny sneeze then, his body folding before straightening and you had to bite your lip to stop the dumb smile from spreading.

He was too cute.

-

Finally, John did manage to climb up and open the door for you all. He had secured his body with a long water hose, the huge fabric tied around his waist tightly and he slowly began pulling the others up, you making your way first as you had an advantage of flying.

“Yeah you’re all safe now.”

“Selfish prick”, Ava spit at John as he pulled her up, quickly dropping his hand and walking away from him.

You stayed by the opening of the shaft with your arms crossed by your chest.

“I made a tactical decision to secure my own safety and then ensure all of yours”, he quipped and pulled Yelena up.

“Pretty ungrateful if you ask me. But you’ll make it, right, Bobby?”, he called out for Bob who slowly pulled himself up, a hand bracing against the floor and staring at Walker in doubt before grasping his hand tightly.

“Looks like you might have missed leg, arm and chest day”, John teased.

You caught the expression on Bob’s face and furrowed your brows.

He had the same expression when he was holding your hand back there, outside the vault.

John pulled Bob up and he nervously made his way over to you, his fingers fiddling with each other. You gave him a smile and walked over to where Yelena and Ava were standing, ready to get the hell out of this place.

You turned around to see that John was standing dangerously close to the shaft, his feet touching the edge, head bowed slightly, his expression blank.

You froze.

“What is he doing?”, you sputtered, the others quickly turning around and looking at John in confusion.

“Walker. Are you okay?”, Yelena asked him.

He snapped out of his daze, eyes looking around the area in slight surprise and confusion before he schooled his face back into that laid back expression of his.

“I’m fine”, he smirked and gave you all a shrug.

You looked at him doubtfully, his pale eyes meeting yours before he averted them away in shame.

And in all this confusion, you didn’t notice how Bob was staring at him in fear and sadness, his body folded in itself like a shell, tension coiled tight around his shoulders.

-

“We need to come up with a plan. This is what we're going to do—”

“Oh now you’re the boss. Cute!”, Ava sassed.

“Well, yeah. It's your only chance to get out of here, so”, John shrugged.

“Why should you be in charge?”, you quirked an eyebrow.

“You almost got us all killed, didn't you?”, Ava backed you.

John paused before clicking his tongue, “Well, let's see. I've been in the trenches of every war torn country on this planet, rescued God knows how many hostages, and shook the hands of two U.S. Presidents. What else? Uh, oh. High school state football champions. Back to back to back. Go Bears!”, he finished his little monologue with jazz hands.

You snorted, “That's supposed to impress us? The hell are we going to do with your stupid football championship?”

“Oh, wow. When I was five, I was on a little league soccer team called West Chesapeake Valley Thunderbolts, sponsored by Shane's Tire Shop. We didn't win a single game the entire time. This girl, Mindy, made a poo on the field. Anyone else have any pointless childhood stories to tell me?”, Yelena said in irritation.

“I grew up in a lab prison”, Ava added.

“Meth-addicted sign twirling chicken, Summer job”, Bob spoke up. You looked at him in surprise before adding,

“I can see and talk to gods and goddesses”, with a shrug.

If you’re gonna die here, you’d at least like to die with the gods knowing where you were and it’s not like anybody here is interested in pursuing that. You couldn’t sense any sort of malicious intent on any of them yet.

They were just a bunch of shooting and punching losers.

Except Bob. He was special.

Everyone in the room turned to look at you in shocked before Yelena brought everyone’s attention back to the problem at hand.

“Right. Well, here's the plan. We set off an explosion to bring them in-”

“I don’t know. Too many variables with an explosion”, John interrupted. You hummed in agreement.

“They turn on their night vision. You handle the first wave, but you wait for me after I've blinded the remaining troops”, she continued like the unofficial leader.

“Everyone's gonna wait for you?”

“It'll only work if you wait.”

“It's a terrible plan.”

Yelena ignored that and continued with her instructions, “Ava, find us an escape vehicle. (Name) you stick with John, protect and deflect if the number of soldiers is high.”

You nodded solemnly.

“What about me?”, Bob spoke up hopefully.

“You…Stay behind me, Bob”, Yelena replied and checked her weapons.

Bob frowned, his face taut with the agitation at not being allowed to help. Why did he even need to take permission?, he asked himself.

You looked at him for a second before standing next to him, a hand resting on his shoulder gently.

He jumped and snapped his head up, relaxing when he saw that it was you, his eyes softening up.

“It’s okay. We just wanna protect you. I know you can probably hold on your own. Maybe you can help us out next time?”, you offered in a friendly tone, your head tilted to the side like a puppy.

He seemed to mull it over, his eyes fluttering across your face to look for any ulterior motives, fingers picking at the skin around his nails before he gave you a slight smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

“Maybe”, he replied and you gave him a sweet smile, his heart beating out of his chest at that.

He mourned the warmth as you removed your hand from his shoulder, and watched you walk away from him longingly.

-

The five of you peeked out of the large doorway, the darkness of the lobby shielding your faces but were immediately blinded by the bright halogens trained in front of the entrance, huge trucks and an alarming amount of soldiers standing defensively. Ready to fire at anyone, anytime.

“She’s a fucking psycho”, you murmured and John scoffed, Ava shaking her head in disbelief.

Yelena and Bob silently observing the situation. Yelena with a calculating approach, Bob with confusion and dread.

You just prayed that all of you got out of here safely.

Cursing inwardly as you unknowingly included the safety of everyone. You weren’t about to get attached. Not when these people were a lost cause and probably didn’t even give a fuck about you or anybody else. Not when John Walker was a member of this….team. Not when Yelena reminded you too much of Natasha. Not when Ava was blissfully unaware of how funny she was.

Not when you had no idea of who or what Bob was.

And yet, you cared. You worried for all of them. And you hoped they’d all make it out of here safely.

Chapter 4

-

AN: FINALLY CHAPTER 3 IS OUT WOOHOOOO!! Also I am definitely breaching the soulmate AU territory but it’s not fully that. I just like to make them tethered cus their powers are kind of similar!

Please like and reblog, I’d love to hear your thoughts! <3

taglist: @96jnie @ethereal-athalia @joaquinsgf @parkersjoy @spideybrie @tacorice @rin-borahae @darling-eos @shootmethroughmyhead @pinkgin1220 @astromilku @antclotz @incorrectateezforatiny @malu940 @gingy7891 @chxrry-wxn3 @marymun @jinx53 @tippyeddy @rhaenyrathecruell @magpiemayhem @kawaiilovephantom @blackcats-and-witchcraft @kaixvdenny @giona45-5 @qardasngan @sarcazzzum @lilajoy-ily

@80pairsofcrocs @lovelyypythoness @fleabagoflowers @thenameishayley248 @lizzie8878 @freyagallileaevans @lilienvenus @funperson21 @markusstraya @watermeezer @eroselless @maeflowers653 @midsreads @agustdpeach @sunflower-0180 @mommymilkers0526 @icefox8155 @yesshewrites1 @jenelle473

@pparkeramorr @dontpulloutman @bea-the-tenth @vikingqueen28 @jeon-gabby97 @kittycatcait219

sorry if I forgot someone/you didn’t get tagged! reply if you wanna be removed from the taglist!

Also, I can't add any more tags here so you might get tagged in the replies!

[ashthesalamipiece]

Haiii can u dooo dad katsuki x mom reader with a baby girl who’s just like katsuki, she’s 3 and is so rude for a baby, she says snarky things and gets it FROM katsuki, and says it to class A, she feels so proud and katsukis just like “that’s my girl” and reader is just like “what is happening..”

"Little Gremlin, Big Attitude"

Pairing: Dad Katsuki Bakugo x Mom Reader

Featuring: Class 1-A as victims

Genre: Fluff | Crack-ish | Family Comedy

Warnings: Baby Bakugo language (light sass, no real swearing) | Reader is emotionally exhausted but thriving

---

“She looks like you,” you whispered to Katsuki, watching your 3-year-old toddle through the U.A. halls in a little black and red romper that he picked out.

He smirked. “Damn right she does.”

She stopped dead in front of Kirishima, eyes narrowed like a tiny general surveying enemy territory.

Kiri crouched with a big smile. “Hey there, squirt—!”

“Move, cheddar head, you’re in my way.”

“Wha—” Kiri’s soul visibly left his body.

Bakugo wheezed. “THAT’S MY GIRL.”

You covered your face. “Katsuki.”

“What?” he said, grinning proudly as their gremlin daughter stomped onward like she owned U.A. “She’s got instincts.”

**

Tenya Iida tried to greet her next. “Ah! Young Bakugo, how wonderful it is to see the next generation! Might I say—”

“You talk too much, Glasses.”

Iida stood frozen mid-chop. “I… what?”

“She even says it in your tone, Katsuki. Like. The rhythm. The dramatic pause. That’s your doing.”

“She’s efficient.”

“She just told an honor student to shut up.”

“And saved herself 8 minutes of speech,” he said smugly.

**

Shoto bent down politely, handing her a piece of candy. “For you. No hard feelings.”

She took it. Looked him dead in the eye. “You look like cold milk.”

Shoto blinked. “…Thank you?”

Bakugo’s wheeze was now a full-on wheezy laugh. “THAT’S. MY. GIRL.”

You stared at your child, who was now looking at Todoroki like she’d done him a favor. And then at your husband, who had clearly imprinted his entire personality into a 3-year-old.

“Why is she like this?” you muttered.

“You mean awesome?”

“I mean terrifying.”

“She’s gonna rule the world,” he said, scooping her up with one arm while she scowled at Denki for looking too long. “Right, firecracker?”

“Damn right!” she squeaked.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “She should not know that phrase.”

“She doesn’t swear,” he said smugly.

“Yet.”

He leaned over and kissed your cheek. “Don’t worry. She gets her heart from you.”

You sighed, watching her smack Kaminari’s hand when he tried to tickle her. “I’m not sure she has one.”

“That’s my girl,” he said again, with all the warmth of the sun in his voice.

And you smiled — because yeah. She was definitely his girl.

And somehow, you loved them both for it.

[superbat-lmao]

Jason is never brought back, and instead of being lost in the time stream, Bruce dies. And realizes there’s an afterlife.

(Given that Bruce knows magic is real it’s not that much of a leap to realize there’s an afterlife. Of course, the bigger realization for him was that he ended up in heaven of all places.)

Bruce gets to see his parents. He spends all of his time with them, getting to know them, explaining his life to them. They have all the time in the world and Bruce feels a sense of peace he hadn’t felt when he was alive. By the time he gets to explaining his children, actually getting to tell his parents that they have grandchildren, he realizes they’ve stopped talking.

The novelty still hasn’t worn off for them, for Bruce getting to have real conversations with them and for his parents actually getting to see their son again. It’s no surprise that it knocks the wind out of Bruce when he remembers. Remembers that he’s dead. That his son is dead. That it doesn’t seem like a bad thing anymore because it means he can finally see him again.

But his parents have a weird look on their faces. They had all pushed through the awkwardness, how Bruce wasn’t their little boy anymore but a stoic adult who has techniques for withstanding torture and lacks emotional vulnerability. How Bruce hadn’t gotten a chance to actually know Thomas and Martha beyond scattered society stories that painted a caricature of who he’s talking to now.

But when he realizes that Jason is here, Bruce lights up. He can finally see his son.

So he asks his parents how to visit Jason. His parents had mentioned spending time with their own parents, meeting family members from different generations, how eventually Bruce would get to meet them too, he knows they know how to navigate the afterlife. And he’s finally ready to learn.

When Bruce asks, Thomas excuses himself from the conversation. Says that there’s someone Bruce has to talk to and he needs to go get them.

Martha waits with him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Thomas comes back with a blonde woman that Bruce almost doesn’t recognize. She looks nothing like her picture in his files, or the one Jason kept on his desk.

Thomas and Martha give Bruce and Catherine space while they talk about Jason.

She explains how when Jason had first come to the afterlife, Thomas and Martha had reached out. How the four of them had talked, bonded, grown close. How it had taken Jason time to emotionally recover from his death, from the betrayal of his Mother. From what he felt was the betrayal of his Father.

Jason didn’t want to see him.

Catherine had tried to explain, but Bruce hadn’t been able to follow much of the conversation after that revelation.

His son, who Bruce had turned into a cautionary tale for his other children, who he had missed every single day, who he had grieved and torn himself apart over, didn’t want to see him. And Bruce deserved it. Had chosen to get into a helicopter and left him standing in the sand. Had buried him.

Catherine is far gentler about it than he deserves. Says that Jason loved him, was grateful for everything, but just wasn’t ready.

He would still agree to seeing Thomas and Martha, still saw them as his grandparents, but couldn’t handle seeing Bruce, even if he missed him. Dying didn’t fix everything, the afterlife wasn’t some solution to all of the problems people had when they were alive. The afterlife was just the ability to have more time. And people didn’t come back from what Jason went through easily. Catherine tells him in no uncertain terms that Bruce will have to regain Jason’s trust. If he actually is interested in getting to see him.

Bruce tells her he will do anything to see Jason again. She nods and tells him she’ll keep in touch.

So he waits.

And waits.

And sees his parents, his grandparents, his great grandparents.

And waits.

He waits so long that he sees Harvey.

He sees Talia.

He sees Alfred.

After that, the waiting doesn’t feel quite the same. After all, he eventually sees Dick, again.

Bruce spends his time in the afterlife waiting for his children, and he is both saddened and relieved when he finally gets to see them again.

Dick, thankfully, is first. Bruce is also thankful he had to wait so long to see him again.

Eventually, after long, long lives, they’re all back together. With some new additions. Bruce gets Tim and Damian and Cass and grandchildren and so many people he has missed. Selina visits on “Tuesdays” and eventually he has a new level of normal for his afterlife. Of getting to see his family, his friends.

Dick is the one that eventually tells him.

He doesn’t say much, exactly. Can’t tell him how he is or anything concrete, but he says that he’s seen Jason. That some of the others have also been to see him.

Bruce tries to respond, to have something to say to that, but he can’t. The afterlife isn’t painless, and there’s nothing he can say that won’t hurt whoever he says it to. So he nods at Dick, places his hand on his son’s shoulder, and lets it be.

If linear time existed in the afterlife, then Bruce could say he’d been here longer than he’d ever been alive. Long enough that even Clark stops by occasionally.

It’s rare for him to be alone now. If he wanted it, sought it out, there is always someone for him to be able to talk to, spend time with. But sometimes, if he wandered out a little too far, he could find a small brook he used to play in as a kid, before the West end of the property had dried up.

Here, his Father had “built” a small bridge over the brook. It was part of a footpath that traveled through this part of the afterlife. If he squinted, Bruce could pretend he saw the West wing of the manor, and in the other direction, the edge of Gotham proper.

Clark would have called him Huckleberry if he’d seen him, one leg dangling over the edge of the bridge, the other bent, lying on his back. He could pretend he felt the wood grain, or maybe even a splinter as he listened to the flow of the water. Bruce had closed his eyes, wondering if now that he was dead and the brook wasn’t dried up, if it had fish in it. If it was someplace he could take Dick fishing. He’d gotten it into his head recently that he wanted to try a bunch of father-son bonding activities with both of his dads, so Bruce and John had been making a list.

Between one second and the next, Bruce felt a presence next to him. You didn’t have to travel on foot in the afterlife, or stick to any sort of conventions from being alive really, it was more of a courtesy thing than anything else.

When Bruce opened his eyes, he expected to see Tim, who broke those sorts of conventions more frequently than his siblings. Bruce had a feeling it had something to do with the boy’s obsession with science fiction, but he also presumed it was because he knew Bruce really didn’t mind.

When he glanced up at his son, Bruce lost all pretense of maintaining the “body” that was lying on the bridge. He would have said his heart stopped if he’d still had one. As it was, blinking, breathing, any of the processes that emulated life that people unconsciously maintained here, stopped.

Jason wasn’t even looking at him and Bruce couldn’t take his eyes off his son’s face, unwilling to jeopardize whatever this was.

He looked older, his jawline more defined and he sat taller, legs dangling off the bridge. Age was a funny thing in the afterlife, you could control how you appeared to others, but your mental state usually drew you towards a particular age. For his children, they mostly appeared in their 20s. Bruce kept himself in his 30s or 40s, unless his parents asked. Jason, if Bruce had to guess, was about 20, maybe 22 at the oldest.

When Jason finally looked over at him, he remembered how to breathe. He tried to clear his throat, to think of something to say, to tell Jason how much he missed him, how much he loved him, but all that came out was a strangled gasp. And then he was talking.

“Alfred said that what happened to me was a tragedy. Dick called it a nightmare. At first, Mom didn’t know how to talk about it since being a vigilante was hard for her to picture. She still doesn’t really get it, but I can’t exactly blame her. We led pretty odd lives for a while there.”

“I’ve met Tim and Damian and Cass, you know? Met their partners, their children. They’ve told me a few stories. How some cases went, missions with the League. Their own hero teams. I think Tim was the most excited to talk to me, not so sure about the others.”

“You’ve still got Alfred in your corner, although it’s odd seeing Dick argue for you. One thing about this place is that your memories don’t stay fuzzy or nothing, so all those fights you guys had? Crystal clear. Actually thought he’d take a swing at me once, not that it’d do anything. Still, glad you guys ended up figuring it out and all.”

“Mom said she came to see you when you got here. I’m assuming that’s why I haven’t seen you, although that’s a surprise too, you actually listening when someone asks you not to do something. The way the others talk about you I’d think you became Big Brother after I left. Worse than Babs even.”

“I’ve tried thinking about it. I mean, it’s been years since it happened and all but. I still don’t know what there is to say. Everyone’s been trying to convince me that you’d actually want. Well, that you’d want to see me. Talk or something.”

“But I know what I did. What happened. It’s why I left, I knew that you didn’t. That you wouldn’t ask me to leave, but that. You didn’t want me to stay.”

As he’d talked, Jason’s gaze had drifted back towards the water below them. His tone, retrospective and light, changed. Accusatory.

“It’s fucked up that you kept the suit, Bruce. No one wanted to admit it, but I know about the case. At least it meant I knew what you wanted was Robin, you enshrined the damn thing. So, yeah. I took off. Not like it worked out much better but it’s too late now. I don’t know what you want me to say. I figured dying would at least get me out of the lecture but I can’t even have that now.”

“So. Tell Dick this is me paying back that favor I owed him. Or whatever, I don’t really care. But everyone can stop coming around and all. I’ve said what I wanted to. I’ll hear you out and then I say we’re square.”

Jason had been looking away from him still, but when he got to the end of what was likely a prepared speech, he finally looked at Bruce. His face went slack in surprise. Bruce could have laughed at the expression if he wasn’t already crying.

“Jason. You are my son, even if,” Bruce took a breath. “Even if you don’t see me as your father. I never would have asked you to leave because I never wanted you to go. I can’t imagine- I love you. I have missed you every day since I lost you. I did not handle loosing you well. I understand that you’re upset and I think there’s a lot we should talk about. Even- especially if it’s going to be difficult. I am so sorry, Jason. None of it was your fault - it was mine. Please. Please let me try to- I don’t want to lose you again.”

[littlegeecko]

What is you head cannon relationship between Shedleysky and 1x1 can you spill the tea these dying times!

Ty for asking, i love talking bout my aus!!!

Short answer: Shedletsky/Telamon and 1x1 exclusively have a mentor/student relationship with an insane power imbalance (/neg) but they are also, very aware, of the fact that they're cut from the same fabric, hence why they used to look like literal twins in the very beginning. 1x is Telamon, Telamon is Shedletsky, and Shedletsky is 1x.

Now, if you want a more indepth reading on how i visualize their relationship, here's the long answer:

(cw: self harm)

During the time i've spent looking at fanart of these guys i see a lot of people picturing them as either father/child or even brothers, and while i find the familiar connection adorable i simply couldn't do the same with (my) Telamon and Shedletsky.

(My) Telamon is a narcissistic, highly sadistic non-robloxian semi-god that lives on The Heights, often known for being both the strongest fighter in all around Roblox and the most feared by those that only read about him or visited The Heights to try luck and catch a glimpse of him, but often eye contact meant trouble with this guy. People would leave gold , studs and gem offerings for him in hopes he won't come down one day and randomly kill a bunch of people. (as he HAS in generations past)

However, after some especific events that pushed him into believing he was becoming "too soft" for his position as the God of Chaos, he decided to create a clone of himself; one that would be made from his deepest hatred towards the simpleton Robloxians and clear enjoyment in Hurting People For Fun, but this being wasn't one for Fun, it was simply wired into it's system. He called it 1x1x1x1.

In my AU, Telamon and 1x1 have a very complicated relationship if you try to read them as "family", but if you read them as the same guy to an extent, things start to make way more sense. Telamon is constantly (literally) beating into 1x1 this idea of destroying things, hurting others and generally not having those "soft" emotions he himself is starting to feel. "You don't this/that" "you don't need to interact with others, much less robloxians" "If someone comes your way for a fight, always go for the Kill, just like i taught you" "NEVER let anyone make a fool of you"

"Maybe one day you'll become strong enough to wear the Domino crown...when i'm DEAD by your own hand, that is. Hahaha!"

Granted, Telamon never told 1x they were made to be anything else but that, an extension of himself that represented everything Chaos is meant to represent. 1x1 had no strong opinions about this either, simply following Telamon around and never meaning to rebel against him for "lame little softie feelings" towards anything under the Heights. 1x1 was a sadist themselves.

You could say, Telamon creating, teaching, and torturing 1x1 was some sorta self-harm on himself, for having his reputation crumble by his own shameful desires, for DARING to enjoy things like Food and Music by those inferior beings, for having his heart race and his face heat up at the thought of someone In Specific. He couldn't beat some sense onto himself, his own pride wouldnt allow it, so he made a literal dummy, with his FACE, he could shape and twist into what he thinks he SHOULD be, with no outside influences that could lead it to the same path as him. And it worked, a little too well.

So well, it got him killed.

1x1 didn't kill Telamon, instead he tried to stop 1x1 from getting the Domino crown by dueling him, but this creature was far too gone, using all of Telamon's tricks, and some new, causing Telamon to use all of his own power and eventually exploding, and falling unconscious. 1x1 then escaped, someone else will take care of him later...

After this, Telamon came back around thanks to Dusekkar's care, his right-hand man, and his mind seemed to be broken beyond recognition.

Telamon is not dead, but he now resides deep, DEEP inside Shedletsky's mind; the new being Telamon turned into after using all that power, everything Good about Telamon, everything Human, everything he enjoyed, the child-like curiosity and even selfless feelings he used to hide...Shedletsky is all that, and he remains that, even with that little voice in his head telling him to do Certain Bad Things.

Telamon is gone, physically, but his 2 halves remain wandering the Heights and the Banlands forever destined to fight each other, never to be together again, with hatred in their very bones, and courage in his heart, to protect others.

1x1 despises Shedletsky because everything he was made for was for naught, and Shedletsky simply can't let 1x1 win, not again. With new and old tricks, their swords will do the talking for them. That's the only way they were taught to interact; with violence.

[threegoldfish]

When things happen around them, Marc is... somewhat out of it from all the heavy blows to his face; The world spins for a second and a brief sensation pops up, as if something - or someone?! - wants to take over--- but it's not Steven, it cannot be Steven---

---It is gone within a second, however, once he's dragged up to his feet and arms pinned behind his back, held by a strong grip that makes sure he isn't going to pounce that asshole idiot in front of them once more. Where people would probably expect him to want to do that, Marc's brief confusion about what the fuck is even happening does help to keep the violence down, has him blink a few times before his sight comes back in focus and he watches that guy go down with whatever sedation they injected into him.

You know what he’d do to your family?! Huh?! You know what they do to people’s family!? You wanna go home and see everyone you love dead, because they’ll give this pig a fuckin’ gun?!

Those words, spoken a second and a half ago, continue to echo within his head as the scene in front of him unfolds, and Marc just... stares at the unknown one now having turned into an almost completely unresponsive sack of a man, his own breathing fast and quick, iron on his tongue, has him spit some of that crimson out to the floor next to him because the taste is making him feel nauseous.

---Thing is, that man... he's not wrong, generally spoken. There's soldier assholes out there that do the worst shit of the worst, that don't have a lick of humanity left within them...

Shit.

Fuck, his nose hurts. Fuck, his lip hurts. Fuck, his temple hurts. Fuck, he's got a good beating there for sure...

A slow-blink of slightly blown pupils and... Harrow is there, suddenly. Marc hadn't even realized the man's here to begin with, and their gazes meet for a second before his own dark irises flick to the side, lips parted, gasp after gasp escaping from between them. He huffs, tries to move his arms, feels that guard still holding onto him---

"...Just--- fuck, just lemme go, I won't... I won't do anything to that idiot. He's down for good, I ain't one to kick who cannot fight back, for fucks sake..."

No heat in his voice, a bit of a slurring tone - might be because Marc is still feeling a bit dizzy, might be because his nose is stuffed from swelling tissue and blood flowing freely, might be because his upper lip feels like it's starting to swell in a similar way; Maybe he's even suffering from a concussion there - wouldn't surprise him, not with how hard that man had knocked his fist against his temple there...

Eyes on Harrow again, shoulders sinking a bit, something akin to leftover anger, surprise, confusion but also guilt and defeat written all over reddened features... Yeah, they're the most visible, those two emotions, and Marc swallows, glances to the side once more.

"...Gonna be in trouble, huh? At least I remember shit this time. Was me doing it, not some... whatever-me I don't have access to..."

Surrendering, that he is - Marc's clever enough by now to know when to accept it, when to stop fighting, when to be the one to take the repercussions that will come for him.

The sound reached Arthur just a bit before the news did; raised voices, the scrape of metal on linoleum, something heavy hitting the floor. The therapy session he’d just finished was weighing down on his shoulders, making him just a bit more tense than normal, and he had almost no time to unwind from it thanks to the explosive noise filling the hospital. It wasn’t unusual for things to happen, raised voices were almost a daily occurrence, but this was heavier; a fight. 

His radio crackled against his desk, a voice filling the area. “Dr. Harrow. Incident in the community room, one of your regulars is involved.” 

Arthur didn’t ask who, instead just standing from his chair, fast enough that it moved in a way he didn’t fully like. He grabbed the radio as he began walking toward the door, his footsteps calm but a bit faster than normal. “I'm on my way,” he said into the radio. “Bring the emergency pack, but do not sedate unless I say.” 

There was a brief pause on the other end, the sounds of the fight getting louder as Arthur steadily got closer. “He’s actively assaulting another patient, Arthur. Protocol is sedation and isolation.” 

Arthur’s jaw twitched. “And I said do not sedate,” Arthur answered. “And no isolation until I’ve spoken with him, I’ve five seconds out.” 

He clipped the radio to his pants, hurrying down the corridor. He pushed through the door, the commotion getting only louder and clearer; patients screaming in panic, some people cheering it on. Marc was on the floor with a larger man straddling him, throwing fists down with enough force to make even the guards look hesitant. 

“That’s enough!” Arthur called out to the man on top, the guards already closing in on the situation. Two of them were there, one of them signaling for a nurse to prepare an injection; Arthur followed the signal, his jaw twitching again. 

“Do not inject mine!” he sharply directed, his command being enough to keep it from happening just because he was Marc’s doctor. “This is not a chemical emergency, not for him!” 

The two guards managed to get their arms around the larger man, yanking him back. The man thrashed like a live wire, spitting slurs and blood, one of the guards getting clipped hard in the jaw. 

Dr. Carter, the one who worked primarily with the other man, was already here as well. “Protocol dictates sedation and isolation in all cases of patient-on-patient violence,” she pointed out, her voice being enough to make it clear that she thought she was better than everyone in the room. 

Arthur ignored her in favor of the men; one of the guards was grabbing Marc in a similar way, using both his arms and legs to keep Marc entirely pinned, holding him from behind and keeping Marc’s arms locked behind his back. 

“Fucking lunatic!” the other patient roared, still writhing against the guard’s hold as he was wrestled to the ground, two or three guards having to work together to handle all of his limbs. “He’s got blood on his hands and you’re letting him walk around here like a fuckin’ human!? Huh!? Fuckin’ animal! You know what things like him do?! Huh?! You ever seen what they do?!” 

The man was screaming at Arthur now, as if he could make a case for why Arthur should do something against Marc as well. 

“You know what he’d do to your family?! Huh?! You know what they do to people’s family!? You wanna go home and see everyone you love dead, because they’ll give this pig a fuckin’ gun?!” 

Arthur didn’t flinch, walking past the man as he foamed with rage and bile and blood at the mouth. The nurse had already made her way over, pushing the needle deep into the man’s thigh with a practiced efficiency . The man continued to scream, bucking and writhing; but his words quickly slurred together, losing coherence before his limbs went heavy, falling still. 

His words changed to guttural noises, turning into nothingness as he struggled to just breathe. Dr. Carter was talking to the nurses, wanting the man in isolation; wanting him monitored, wanting the entire situation documented from the cameras. 

Just like that, the fight was over - Arthur finally took the time to look to Marc, exhaling gently and yet already trying to decide how best to get him to the infirmary.

[pluckyredhead]

didn’t that ship already sail before Jason died tho? With the diplomats son and really the entire Starlin 🏃‍♂️

So I'm going to answer this, but before I do, I want to note that this is kind of derailing from my original point. I don't meant this to be a gotcha or anything because I know I do it myself all the time, but my argument was that "Jason was a bad kid" stories are boring and narratively stagnant, and in that vein it...kind of doesn't matter what canon does or doesn't say? I think we take refuge in "canon says this" or "canon says that" because we want to be objectively right, whereas "bad kid Jason stories are boring" is an aesthetic assessment and therefore subjective. Maybe someone out there loves "bad kid becomes bad adult" and finds it riveting.

Ultimately, despite being a huge nerd who loves continuity, I think a good story is more important than canon accuracy. Of course, ideally you have both, but also...takes on characters shift over the decades, and I have been trying to catch myself in those moments when I push my little metaphorical glasses up my nose and say "Well actually if you look at this comic from 1987, you'll find that..." So this is me, catching myself!

That said, I am absolutely going to talk about comics from 1987 now. Anyway the short answer is: yes and no.

(God that was an annoying response. I'm so sorry I'm like this. In my defense, I've been thinking about this ask all day.)

Anyway. The thing is, the way DC writes Robin!Jason now, they really only take a very small number of stories into account. Some writers are just looking at A Death in the Family; others might also acknowledge Jason's post-Crisis origin and/or the Felipe Garzonas story. A lot of them seem to be relying solely on distant memories of those stories, or osmosis; they certainly aren't doing a close reading of the text.

There's also a game of telephone that happens: from the instant Tim first showed up, DC started writing Jason as Fundamentally Unfit To Be Robin. See, if Bruce gets a child killed and then immediately enlists another one, he's irredeemable. But if Jason's death was due to some fundamental flaw in his own nature, a flaw that Tim does not possess, then Jason's death isn't Bruce's fault, and we can keep having Robin. It's really fascinating reading early Tim comics and watching this retcon play out in real time. (And particularly interesting because Tim is so specifically designed to be Just Like You, Tween Boy Reading This!) And that idea has really metastasized over the years when it's not super present in Jason's actual appearances.

So in a way, yes, the ship has sailed, because it doesn't actually matter what Jason was really like - it matters what the people writing and editing today's comics think he was like. And this is what they're basing that characterization on.

On the other hand...this is an ongoing universe, so no ship has truly sailed. When I got into comics, the saying was that "no one stays dead in comics except Jason Todd and Bucky Barnes." You see how well that worked out. Things change.

All it takes is one really good writer looking thoughtfully at Jason's time as Robin and realizing that even Starlin didn't write Jason the way people remember him. Like, in Death in the Family? Jason is not benched because he's too violent. Bruce is mad that he's reckless, but in the opening scene he literally thinks that he'll "let Jason work his aggression out" on the guys they're fighting (who, for the record, are child pornographers, so it's not like Jason is beating up relatively harmless muggers). That is not the reaction of someone who thinks Jason is out of control. In Jason's origin, Jason is angry because Two-Face killed his father - again, a very reasonable thing to be angry about! - but even though he's extremely upset and also only 12 years old, he makes the decision not to kill Two-Face. Again, not the actions of someone who is out of control. (And for the record, how many times has Dick nearly killed Tony Zucco?) And the Felipe Garzonas story is supposed to be ambiguous. We don't know that Jason killed him! (I mean, I think he did, but technically we don't know.)

All it takes is one really good writer recognizing that this handful of stories is a very small percentage of Jason's appearances, most of which were not necessarily retconned out by Crisis except for the ones that were directly contradicted by later stories. Yes, Jason's parents being circus acrobats who were eaten by crocodiles is no longer canon, but that doesn't mean Jason wanting to be in the school play or doing extra credit for fun isn't canon.

All it takes is one really good writer recognizing that at the same time that Starlin was writing his reckless, surly Jason in Batman, Mike Barr and Alan Davis had the sweetest little bean of a boy making Batman '66-style puns and ordering milk in bars in Detective Comics.

All it takes is one really good writer recognizing that most 15-year-olds are surly and reckless, and that's not a reason to condemn them.

I don't know if we'll ever get a writer who does any of that, but there's plenty of material for them to draw from if we do. And at least it wouldn't be the same story we keep getting over and over again, which was my original complaint.

So...here's hoping!

[writeriguess]

Do you write for Shoto? Because I got the best idea for him after seeing you want more Dabi fics and this relates to Dabi too!

Soooo can you write a fic where Shoto takes it really hard when Dabi reveals his identity (even when he doesn't show it) and reader, who's his girlfriend, comforts him. Shoto asks her if she thinks Touya is still in there and it's just major angst. Thank you!

Ashes Between Us

The name hit him like a physical blow—Touya Todoroki. A ghost from a forgotten past, a brother he barely remembered, a shadow he never truly faced. Shoto stood motionless, the world dissolving into static and silence around him as the broadcast cut through the chaos of battle. Dabi’s cold voice echoed in every corner of Japan, and in that voice was the unbearable truth: Touya was alive. Not the sweet, quiet boy from his fractured memories, but a broken man consumed by fire and pain.

Shoto’s chest tightened painfully. It wasn’t just shock or fear. It was something heavier—grief, guilt, confusion, and a deep, gnawing ache that had nothing to do with the flames burning his brother’s skin. He had been so young when Touya was declared dead, so distant from his family in those early years, locked away in endless training under Endeavor’s demanding gaze. Memories of Touya were faint, like a half-remembered dream—an image of a pale boy with dark eyes, the rare moments they crossed paths swallowed quickly by the pressures and silences between them.

And now, that boy was gone.

He was Dabi.

Later, when the noise of the world faded and the sterile quiet of the medical wing surrounded them, Shoto sat by the window, staring at the rain blurring the city lights. You found him there, pale and rigid, a storm barely held at bay behind his eyes.

“Shoto,” you said softly, settling beside him without a word.

He didn’t answer at first, just kept watching the rain slide down the glass, tracing invisible paths like the broken fragments of his own memories. Finally, his voice cracked the silence.

“Do you think Touya is still inside Dabi?” he whispered, barely audible, but filled with desperate need. “Or… is he gone? Buried beneath all that hatred and fire?”

You took his hand gently, squeezing it. “I think there’s still a part of him in there. Some part worth saving.”

He looked at you then, eyes shimmering with the weight of years no one else saw. “I barely remember him. I was too young when he died—or so I thought. Father locked me away in training. We never saw each other, not really. Sometimes I wonder if I ever knew him at all.”

The ache in his voice was raw. “And now… knowing that he’s become this… this monster… it’s like losing him all over again.”

You swallowed hard, wanting to reach across that distance inside him. “It’s okay to be scared. To be angry or sad. You don’t have to carry it alone.”

Shoto’s jaw tightened. “I’m scared. Scared that if I hadn’t learned to control my emotions, if I’d been left to rot the way Touya was, I’d be him. That I’d be nothing more than a broken tool for Father’s ambition.”

His gaze fell to his hands, clenched tightly in his lap. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m already lost. If this darkness inside me is just waiting to burn through.”

You shook your head gently, your voice firm and steady. “You’re not Touya. You’re not defined by what Father did to you, or by what your brother became. You’re Shoto. You’re stronger than this pain.”

His lips quivered, the walls crumbling for the first time. “I wanted to hate him, you know? To hate what he’s done… but I can’t. Part of me… just wants to find the boy he was. The boy I barely knew. I want to believe he’s still in there, somewhere beneath all the anger and scars.”

You moved closer, your fingers tracing a comforting line along his arm. “Then hold onto that hope. I’m here. And I won’t let you fall into the darkness alone.”

Shoto’s breath hitched, a tear slipping free despite his best effort. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice breaking. “For holding me when I don’t know how to stand.”

You pulled him into your arms, feeling the tremors of his broken heart against your chest. “We’ll face this together. Every fire can be fought, and every scar can be healed. Not because it’s easy, but because you don’t have to do it alone.”

He rested his forehead against yours, the storm inside slowly yielding to the quiet strength between you.

“I’m afraid,” he confessed, voice raw and honest. “Afraid of what he’s become. Afraid of what I might be if I’m not careful.”

“Then let that fear remind you to hold on tighter,” you whispered. “To fight harder. Because you’re not Touya, and you’re not Dabi. You’re Shoto Todoroki. And I love you.”

For the first time since the world fell apart, Shoto let himself believe in a future where pain could be shared, where hope could live even after the darkest fire.

[eddiemunsonsbabygirl]

One In a Million

It was an average day in the city of New York City with the Fantastic Four.

Until a striking new villain came along.

In the dead of night, robbing banks and stealing from the rich as well as doing the inevitable of killing owners of wealthy companies. Getting her hands on weapons, brands, jewels, cold cash, and more. She left behind icy kisses that engraved in her victim’s skin like a stamp to let everyone know she had been there.

They call her Miss Diamond. She loves her diamonds and jewels and her eyes were as piercing as a diamond.

And that day had changed the one and only Human Torch, for now he’s a curious cat who just might be killed in the end if she was as cold as her ice, as dark as the shadow she was, and as horrifying as a phantom. It was a bad idea, he knew very well. Reed had told him to never dare to step out past bedtime. Sue had told him she was trouble. Ben had told him she would crush his heart faster than he could say “It’s clobbering time!”

He knew. But he didn’t care. Usually, he wasn’t this interest in a woman before. But if this Diamond lady got him thinking non-stop, it might mean something.

And since she seemed to be out only in the dead of night, that’s when he also comes out. He’s left her blazing messages in the air…

‘You’re one hell of a villain, Miss Diamond.’

‘You’ve got me interested.’

‘Who are you?’

Each one she ignored. She didn’t care for him. Why should she? He was a superhero and she was a villain. Raised by the notorious Magneto himself, now with her own name. Betrayed by many and her trust long gone. The only family she had now taken away and not around anymore. She ignored every message he wrote in the night sky she loved so much for 44 days. She’d scoff and roll her eyes whenever she sees him and his fire in her night sky. She thought he was a fool. She thought he was embarrassing himself. She thought he was wasting his time and he would also waste hers.

Until there was a message that striked her, made her think.

‘Meet me at Baxter Building, Miss Diamond. Not asking. I’ll be waiting.’

She was reluctant, hesitant, but decided to fall into his game and see what it was all about. For the fun of it. And maybe, he’d be her favorite victim.

Will she regret it? Will he regret it? Will it be horrible? Or can fire and ice get along?

A short fanfic soon to arrive soon on my blog. It’s a Johnny Storm x OC/self insert story and it is its own AU and I’ll make other stories and such with them. I’ll even take asks and ideas for them! That’d be fun! A little fandom if you’d like. I’ll make a post about the OC and who she is and more in depth and I’ll make a masterlist as well for this AU. It’s an enemies to lovers, slow burn, angsty storyline and will contain smut but that’s not the main plot. I hope you guys are all interested and will love to dive in! I’m excited and I hope you guys are too! Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist!

Taglist: @spider-starry, shmeddieshmunson, @eddiesvixen, @ali-r3n, @iheartgrayson, @violetcamryn, @robinbuckleywife, @spookydelusiondream, @spookybecc, @micro-kat, @mayo-nouns-blog, @dreamerjj, @herhideoutbluebird, @lily2105, @gwenmsblog, @wandamox, @downthewitchingwell, @caylieeh, @lil-quinnie, @fandomgirl1999, @secretleyastag, @atla08, @becausecorpseisworthit, @nightwitchlurker, @crybabydoll, @crow03, @yourvenusyour-love, @drowning-in-cosmic-hopes, @shadytimetravelstrawberry, @jadealex02, @rubidubisblog, @bunnygirlgracesworld, @multi-culti-girl, @rainybloo28, @liliglasermunsonquinn, @the-disaster-in-waiting, @bunnygirlgracesworld, @nikki-is-a-nerd, @gh0st-b1tcg  divider <3

[samglyph]

Ok part 53 not quite immediate thoughts!

Ok, I did really like this episode, but I will start off by saying I was a little disappointed that John doesn’t get his own dark world body. I think I understand the choice to keep the boys connected to maintain the conceit of the show even through this very different setting, but I will not lie and say I wasn’t hoping for tentacles. But! I’m hoping that like both of the last two seasons, we’ll get episodes that play with pov and maybe get more John doing weird shit now that we’re in the dark world. I will also admit it took me a second to get on board with the start of the episode, but I did end up coming around on the lighter’s and the dark world’s power being so fast acting in the end.

Now onto the things I did like! The sound design was really good this episode, I liked how John went a little season 1 with added malice when he was experiencing his dark world persona and they were arguing, I think that’s a nice touch. I made a note but specifically I really liked the sound design for the fall from the tower (there’s this brief moment of silence that is just perfect) and the sound design for the light monsters.

Speaking of monsters! The descriptions for the creatures/characters for this episode have me SO EXCITED. GIANT BESTIAL COSMIC HORROR LANDSCAPE, FIRST OFF. The rat catcher, Frederick as the soldier, the giant light crabs, even the other humans, ough all so good. I can’t wait to see what the rest of the season cooks up in terms of monster design. Im wondering if masks are going to be a theme, and thinking that might play into John’s history as the semi false king in yellow? Also my man keeps getting cut off let him monologue.

Considering Frederick got an introduction I’m really curious what other dead off screen characters we may be introduced too. I’m holding out for Roland and his family I think that’d be interesting.

Anyway, good start to the season! I think my favorite season opener is still part 29 but that’s probably just my train mystery bias and enjoying the jokes. Sadly not much comedy in this episode but I mean. It is the dark world. Maybe they’ll be a bit more light hearted next epis [I am violently smashed into a pulp by the rat catcher]

[dreamy-crow]

Gonggi Pebbles

[Couple: Kang Dae-ho(player 388) × fem!reader]

[ Reader is Gi-hun(player 456) daughter!]

[Size: 5141 words, 28,953 characters]

[English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes. Sorry for that. This idea came to me in the middle of the night and I couldn't help but write it. Enjoy reading.]

Gi-hun drew in a heavy breath as he dialed a number he knew by heart.

Just moments ago, he had tried calling his younger daughter, who was now living abroad with her mother. Her surprised and emotional “Dad?” struck something deep within him. Yet, despite having the chance, he couldn’t say a single word. He hadn’t gotten on the plane to see her — hadn’t given her the unforgettable gift he had dreamed of. Now, he was calling his older daughter. She had lived in the United States with her mother’s new family for some time, but later returned to Korea on her own terms, choosing to enroll in a university in Seoul. Gi-hun had supported her financially whenever she needed it — though she always tried to refuse. She still remembered his past money problems, and accepting help from him made her feel uncomfortable. She had no idea how much everything had changed. And convincing her otherwise… wasn’t easy. Especially since they hadn’t seen each other in over three years, and the last time they spoke felt like a lifetime ago.

The ringing stopped. A sleepy voice answered:

"Hello?"

His fingers tightened around the phone.

That familiar voice… it had grown more mature over the years.

Gi-hun opened his mouth — but no words came out.

“Hello? Who is this?”

she repeated.

Gi-hun, a man a little past middle age, covered his mouth with his hand, trying to muffle any sound that might escape.

There was silence for a moment, and then she sighed tiredly:

“If you’re not going to say anything, I’ll hang up.”

After another short pause, she did just that.

The line went dead. He slowly lowered the phone from his ear and placed it down on the old table with a dull thud. Doubt crept in again. Had he done the right thing? He had made a firm decision — to return to the deadly games. That meant risking his life all over again. But even so… he hadn’t been able to speak to his daughters. Soon after, they came for him. And now he stood once more, dressed in the familiar green tracksuit.

The hum of conversations stirred you from sleep. You placed a hand on your head, still aching from the blow. Last night, while returning from university, someone attacked you. The strike to your head rendered you momentarily unconscious, and then a cloth soaked in some substance was pressed to your mouth, sending you into a deep sleep.

Panic rose in your chest. This place was unfamiliar, and strangers surrounded you—each appearing just as anxious and frightened. The thought of asking someone what was happening quickly faded. You carefully stepped down from the bed, not wanting to draw attention.

The door opened, and individuals in pink suits with black masks bearing geometric shapes entered. Their voices were unnatural, distorted, as if coming from afar. Identifying them was impossible. Your unease was shared by others in green tracksuits, who began voicing their concerns about the situation.

Suddenly, a video played, showing people being struck in the face for losing a game. An explanation followed: these individuals were in debt and desperately needed money. You pressed your lips together, analyzing the situation.

《Are these creditors? Is everyone here in debt? But I have none... My tuition is paid, and I can afford more than just rice for dinner.》

The people in pink said nothing more, only instructing everyone to follow them for the first game. Before you lay a vast sandy field, with a giant doll at the far end—reminiscent of those in children's books. The game was simple; you'd played it often as a child with friends during school breaks.

The game began. The doll sang about a hibiscus flower, then called out "green light" or "red light." You moved cautiously, staying amidst the crowd. A scream caught your attention. Your body froze, and your head turned toward the source. Eyes widened in shock—it was your father. He stood ahead of everyone, warning them of the deadly danger and urging them not to move.

You blinked, struggling to believe this was real. Could someone truly intend to kill so many people? You chose not to take risks and followed your father's instructions. However, a girl didn't heed the warning and collapsed lifelessly to the ground.

Chaos erupted. People began to flee, pushing and shoving. Internally, you prayed not to be knocked over. Gunshots rang out; more people fell, crimson pooling beneath them. Eventually, everything halted, and the doll announced "green light." Hesitantly, you moved forward.

"Form lines! Shorter ones, hide behind taller ones. The doll won't see you."

Again, "red light." To prove his point, your father clenched his hand behind his back several times and remained unharmed. Relieved, you followed his advice, staying in the middle. Time was limited, so your group moved faster than others. Finally, you crossed the finish line.

Now, standing behind some people, you watched events unfold on the field. Time dwindled, and your father, along with a woman, assisted a man in completing the game. Anxiety tightened your chest, the ticking digital clock fraying your nerves. Eventually, three people crossed the finish line, allowing you to breathe easier. But the man your father helped fell to the ground—shot.

All surviving players returned to the starting area. Each lost in thought, you sat quietly on your bed, contemplating the situation. It was hard to grasp that this was reality. It felt like a nightmare after watching an action movie. Your eyes found your father, conversing with a familiar face you couldn't quite place.

Guards entered, weapons in hand. They no longer hid the fact that this was a dangerous place where anyone could die. You hugged the pole supporting the upper bunk, eyes drawn to the large piggy bank on the ceiling filled with money.

《I's this just a prop?》

You weren't sure if the money was real.

The voting began—whether the games would continue or come to an end.

Your father was the first to vote. He pressed the button marked with an X and attached a red patch to his jacket.

Your gaze dropped to your own card—number 228. Probably somewhere near the middle. It was hard to say for sure; so many participants had already been eliminated, and the numbers seemed completely random.

From time to time, you glanced thoughtfully toward your father, observing his every move. You noticed that his hair was much shorter than you remembered, and back to its natural black. Years ago, he had dyed it a bold crimson red—an impulsive experiment—but that had long grown out. You still remembered how he had laughed at your stunned reaction to the transformation. A flicker of warmth bloomed in your chest. Something familiar and comforting. Your heart skipped a gentle beat.

Player 296 approached the voting station and confidently pressed the circle, siding with those who wanted the game to continue. You let go of the bedframe and climbed down. Your turn was coming soon, so you pushed your way a bit closer through the crowd. Your hunch was right—another player voted, and then your number was called.

"Player 228, please vote."

Your white shoes made soft tapping sounds against the floor as you walked to the podium. You felt a gaze piercing through the crowd—one you could recognize without even looking. But you resisted the urge to turn your head.

You stopped before the two buttons. Reaching into your pocket, your fingers found the red button marked with an X.

You pressed it.

You didn’t need the money. You didn’t want to die here. And most of all—you didn’t want your father to die either.

One of the pink-suited guards handed you a red patch, which you carefully attached to your jacket. Then you slowly turned toward where your father stood, and your eyes met his. Your heart pounded once, hard. Your eyelashes trembled slightly.

Another player was called, so you quickly stepped over to the X side.

With every step, your earlier certainty began to fade. You stopped just a little distance from Gi-hun, hesitant to get closer. Two pairs of eyes stared at each other. Tension, quiet but heavy, hung in the air between you. You clenched your hand in your pocket, nervous.

Gi-hun stepped toward you and spoke.

"What are you doing here?"

"I... I was about to ask you the same thing. Did you lie? Did you lie when you said everything was fine with the money?"

Your hands trembled slightly.

It felt like a needle had pierced your chest—sharp and sudden. Guilt curled tightly in your stomach like a ball of tangled thread.

"No, no—it’s not like that."

He stepped closer, but the words caught in his throat. Seeing his daughter up close stirred a storm of emotions in him—too complex to name with a single word.

The noise in the hall snapped you both back to reality. On the screen, more players had voted for the circle. Gi-hun whispered quietly:

"Wait—just wait a little longer..."

He couldn’t help but speak up. He begged the others to stop, to think—because otherwise, no one would even make it home. But some lashed out at him, accusing him of weakness.

The hall fell into argument once more.

You saw your father’s shoulders rise and fall with strain.

"I’ve already played these games!"

The confession made your blood freeze.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him.

When had he played before?

The guards shouted at him to stop interfering immediately.

Your hand reached out and tugged at his sleeve. Gi-hun looked into your eyes—full of silent pleading.He stepped back, returning to your side. Then, Player 001 stepped forward. He pressed the blue circle. The hope that this nightmare would end shattered in an instant. You felt your father’s hand grasp yours, tightly. You closed your eyes. There was nothing left to say.

***

You sat beside your father, but neither of you had an appetite. You watched him in silence, and inside, everything twisted with a mix of anger and fear. He had been alive this entire time—yet not once had he come to see you or your younger sister, Seong Ga-yeong. And now, he didn’t even offer an explanation.

Not once during all those years had he shown up for your first day at university.

He hadn’t called for your birthday.

He hadn’t dropped by just to talk or sit with you—like he used to. You bit your lip, your expression darkening as the weight of it all sank in. Still, he had sent money. And now you understood where it had come from.

The fear of the unknown future clawed at you. This wasn’t a joke. It was all real—and the risk of dying here was far too high.

The silence finally broke as Gi-hun spoke.

"Why are you here? Did they give you a card?"

You lifted your eyes to him, your jaw tight with all the resentment you were holding back.

"What card? I didn’t want to be here. I was walking home from university when they grabbed me. And now… I’m here."

Without thinking, you touched the spot on your head where it still hurt.

Gi-hun's eyes followed your hand, checking to see if you were okay.

He processed what you said. You didn’t look like you were lying.

A terrifying thought crept into his mind:

They had taken you because of him.

They’d dragged you into this as leverage—to control him.

He pressed his hand to his forehead.

The guilt hit like a wave.

"And what about you?" you asked, voice strained.

"If you won the money, then why did you come back?"

Your voice cracked slightly.

Your eyes shimmered with unspoken emotion—questions you had carried for years.

"Why didn’t you ever reach out? Not to me, not to Ga-yeong?"

Gi-hun leaned closer, but again—no answers. You looked at him, holding on to a fragile hope. Anything. Just… something. But nothing came. You exhaled sharply, bitterly. Then stood up, tray in hand, and walked off to find another seat.

Gi-hun made a motion to get up, but a familiar voice interrupted him.

"Hey, wanna trade for some of my food?"

It was Jung-bae , his old friend.

Gi-hun replied without taking his eyes off you:

"I’m not hungry."

Jung-bae followed his gaze—and then his eyes widened in recognition.

"Wait… is that Seong Y/N?"

Gi-hun nodded.

"Wow. She’s grown so much. I remember when you used to walk her to school. We were late for work because of that."

"That wasn’t my fault. You insisted on coming with us."

"Ah well. Other people’s kids grow up so fast, huh?"

They kept chatting quietly—until a group approached, asking Gi-hun about the previous games. Even from your distance, you could clearly hear what they said. The next game was going to be Dalgona. You put your hand to your lower jaw, remembering what kind of game it was. A guy with a top part of his hair tied up and the numbers 388 on his back came to your aid. He asked Gi-hun.

“That’s the one where you have to cut out a shape from a sugar cookie.”

“Yes.”

That’s when you finally remembered the game. You had never played it yourself, but you had seen others play it for some time. Eventually, the game disappeared from your memory.

You had remembered everything the players around number 456 said to each other. That way, you were able to get answers to some of your questions.

There was a slight bitterness in your heart—that he hadn’t answered you directly. The bitter tone and the troubled expression on his face made you think that he had been through a lot, and talking about it was difficult for him.

So, when evening came, you quietly approached your dad, who at the time was looking for you in the crowd.

The moment his eyes met yours, he finally relaxed.

You saw him already sitting on his bed, and you wanted to lie on the one next to it—

—but a quiet cough stopped you.

“Sorry, I was going to lie here.”

It was number 388. There was no hostility in his tone, nothing threatening.

He spoke kindly, without scaring you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s alright, I can let you have it.”

You quickly waved your hands in protest, but the man didn’t listen. He simply climbed up to the top bunk.

So you lay down on the lower one.

A soft whisper distracted you.

“I’m sorry.”

That whisper came from your father, and it was directed at you. You froze, not knowing what to say. Your head nodded on its own. Then you lay down—and the lights went out. You were so tired, you fell asleep quickly. Now all the players stood in a large room, with big rainbow-colored circles painted on the floor beneath them.

A voice came from the speakers:

“Form teams of five people.”

You paused to think.

“Doesn’t seem like Dalgona.”

Park Jung-bae walked up to Gi-hun and started asking questions about the game.

Your father confirmed your theory—that this didn’t seem like Dalgona.

That made his old friend angry, and he started to argue. Gi-hun began apologizing. In that moment, you realized how similar you were. Both of you apologized quietly and sincerely when you felt guilty.

001 interrupted their quarrel.

“These really are childhood games. The ones we used to play. Don’t worry—we’ll win them for sure.”

Jung-bae calmed down, understanding the logic of his words.

You stepped closer.

“Can I be on your team?”

Jung Bae’s lips stretched into a warm smile.

“Of course you can. I bet you’re as brave as Gi-hun, right? She takes after you, doesn’t she?”

You nodded.

“People often say I look like him.”

Player 001 turned to Gi-hun.

“Is this your daughter?”

“Yes.”

The man’s lips formed a surprised “Oh,” and he smiled kindly at you.

“My name is Oh Young-il. Welcome to the team.”

You smiled back.

“I’m Seong Y/N. Thank you for letting me join the team!”

“Do you remember me? I’m Park Jung-bae”

And now, your eyes lit up.

You finally remembered why he had seemed so familiar. He was the same friend your mother used to scold your father about— the one who would sometimes give you candy when he could. You didn’t need words to show that you remembered. Your eyes met the man who had offered you his bed the night before.

You exchanged kind smiles.

It seemed your team already had five members, so there was no need to go looking for anyone else. Your team quietly discussed what the game might be— But a soft voice interrupted you.

“Excuse me… can I join your team?”

You turned your head toward the girl.

She looked a little older than you, and her eyes were full of nervousness and fear. Jung-Bae opened his mouth to say that your team already had enough people—

but the girl spoke first.

“I’m pregnant.”

Her hand rested on her swollen belly, hidden beneath the green tracksuit.

Everyone in your team looked down.

It was clear she wasn’t lying to gain an advantage.

You spoke up.

“Alright… you can join the team instead of me.”

Your father interrupted.

“No, let me leave the team.”

He stepped toward you, trying to change your mind, but you were firm.

You smiled gently.

“It’s alright. I’ll find someone. I’ll be fine.”

You carefully nudged the pregnant girl closer to the group.

“Good luck to all of you.”

Gi-hun opened his mouth to object, but you quickly ran off before he had the chance. Your father had no choice but to accept what had just happened. His team calmly welcomed the girl, not wanting to cause her any additional stress.

Meanwhile, you wandered around the room in search of a team. Most were already formed or didn’t want to accept a woman. It was unfair in terms of gender, but you could understand their reasoning.

This game might very well be physical, so many people were trying to gather the strongest members they could find.

Eventually, you stopped in one corner, your hands nervously clasped together, and your eyes searched for anyone—someone.

"You don't have a team yet?"

A man spoke to you. His chest bore the number 246. You nodded in confirmation.

"Would you like to join us? We're missing a few people."

"Yes, of course."

The words escaped you in relief—you had managed to find a team after all.

All the formed teams sat on the floor. You sat next to your father and the pregnant woman. Gi-hun didn’t hide his relief upon seeing that you were alright. A sound distracted you. A mechanical voice began explaining the mini-games you all would have to play. The discussion began about who would choose which game.

"Does anyone here know how to play gonggi?"

Asked one of your teammates. You and another girl could only shyly shake your heads. None of you had ever played that game—only heard stories about it from your mothers and grandmothers.

That’s when player 246 suddenly spoke up:

"I do. I have a little daughter, so I know how it’s played."

Salvation came from where no one expected it. Everyone picked a game. You chose the spinning top, thinking you could handle it.

Luckily, you weren’t going first, which gave you time to observe and memorize others’ mistakes. Together, you made plans for how to move while your legs were tied, and what to do if someone from the team failed. Your father shared the assumptions and strategies his team had come up with—and you did the same.

You all cheered for your teammates’ success, genuinely wishing for them to survive. At one point, while celebrating someone’s victory, you leaned too far back and fell near the knees of player 388, hitting your head.

"Careful. Does it hurt badly?"

Player 388 instinctively helped you up.

His strong hands gently grabbed your elbows to support you.

Your clear eyes met his worried ones as he quickly glanced at the top of your head, checking to see if everything was okay.

"No, no, I’m fine. Thank you for helping me."

"Don’t mention it."

He smiled, showing his upper teeth—and the sincerity of that smile made you smile back without even realizing.

You returned to your team, who had just crossed the finish line.

Then your name was called next.

Your whole body tensed in an instant.

You exchanged glances with your father—worry reflected clearly in his eyes.

"Good luck," his team told you, and their support gave you renewed strength to push through and win.

Everything was going well—your team was managing stress and games with skill, giving you hope for a happy ending.

You held your breath when player 246 successfully caught all the stones.

The spinning top you launched twirled quickly across the floor.

You shouted a joyful "Yes!"

Nearby, player 001 nudged player 456 with his shoulder.

"She did it."

And Gi-hun grinned wide, showing all his teeth—proud of you.

You felt fear during the fifth game when one of your teammates failed to hit five times on his first try. Time was ticking. You stayed beside him, trying to calm him down so he could keep going.

Gi-hun stood in place, clenching his hand—fear for your life gripped him. Meanwhile, player 001 watched his reaction intently. He needed to see that—for his own private reasons, which no one noticed at the time.

In the end, you made it.

You crossed the finish line.

Your team nearly collapsed in relief, realizing that—for now—their lives were no longer in danger. A guard with a circle mask untied your legs, setting you free. Your eyes found where your father was sitting. He was smiling at you—and you smiled back. That was the last thing you saw before walking through the door.

You sat tiredly on your bed.

There was a quiet buzz in the room. Many were discussing the games they had just played. Each time the door opened, your head turned instantly.

You were waiting—hoping your father would finally walk in.

It took a long time. You started to grow anxious, even though you tried to calm yourself.

“His team will make it.”

But you weren’t sure how true that really was. Aside from Jung-Bae, you had never seen any of them before—you didn’t know who they were. Time passed slowly, and your finger tapped nervously on the thin mattress.

Finally, the door opened.

Your father’s team walked in quietly, and you couldn’t hold back a sigh of relief.

They all looked exhausted—their steps were slow and steady. They came toward you.

"I’m so glad all of you are okay."

"Yeah, we did pretty well."

Gi-hun replied, sitting beside you.

He gently wrapped one arm around you. Your eyes stung slightly from the unexpected warmth of the embrace.

It had been years since you felt something that familiar, that safe. You wanted to stay like that for a while—so you wrapped your arm around his back in return.

You were pulled from the moment by the voice of player 001.

"We saw how quickly you spun the top. That was incredible."

You lowered your head, embarrassed by the compliment.

"Thank you."

The player looked a bit awkward. During the conversation, you learned that he had had some trouble with the spinning top, which he felt ashamed of, but he managed to pull himself together. You also found out that he helped Gi-hun finish the last game of Jegi. So you looked up at him, your eyes full of gratitude, and player 001 answered you with a gentle smile. Out of the corner of your ear, you heard some players murmuring their disappointment that so many people had survived. Jung-bae asked everyone to introduce themselves by name since they were now a team.

Player 222 introduced herself as Jun-hee. You smiled at her, “What a lovely name.” She responded with a grateful nod. Player 388 introduced himself as Dae-ho, which meant "tiger." You glanced him over from head to toe — he was athletically built. A thought came to your mind:

《That name suits him.》

You quickly looked away before anyone noticed. Player 001 had already introduced himself earlier, and now he simply explained the meaning of his name. Then he asked whether your father’s surname was “Seong.” Upon your affirmative answer, he laughed and said that both of you having “Seong” literally meant “Surname.” Until now, you had never thought about that.

It was very dark now, with only one source of light. You were sleeping until it was your turn for the night watch. Seong Gi-hun spoke about how, in this place, people became especially cruel — worse than cornered animals. You frowned. Your father had gone through all of that and was still alive — a thought that brought you comfort. Gi-hun had taken it upon himself to guard your group while they slept.

Player 222 gently moved your hand off her and lay down beside you and player 388, so the three of you could protect one another in case anything happened. Jun-hee watched for a while to make sure you didn’t wake up, and when she was certain, she left for the restroom. Jung-bae, now awake, sat next to Gi-hun. They reminisced about the past that deeply connected them. Your father’s friend finally laughed.

"Now you're acting like the Seong Gi-hun I know."

Something shifted in your father at that. Both men subconsciously glanced toward you. Your hands were now resting in the space Jun-hee had just left, and they brushed against Dae-ho’s shoulder. Both your chests rose and fell in slow rhythm. Gi-hun looked thoughtfully at the scene, and Jung-Bae, noticing this, quickly changed the topic to keep talking with his old friend.

Meanwhile, Jun-hee returned from the restroom. She tried to carefully slip back into her spot but accidentally woke both of you.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to."

"It’s okay. Go to sleep."

Jun-hee didn’t argue and just did as you said. You rubbed your eyes and noticed the two men still sitting and talking. You walked over to your father and his old friend.

"I’ve had enough rest. You can go lie down. I’ll keep watch."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, it’s fine."

Jung-bae tugged Gi-hun back to their sleeping spots, and you sat where they had been. The only sounds in the hall were quiet snores and the occasional rustle of someone shifting in their sleep. You had no idea what time it was, but based on your body’s rhythm, you guessed it was around one or two in the morning. You hugged your knees, rested your chin on them, and just waited to see if anything would happen that night.

Thankfully, nothing did. Everything was calm, with no signs of conflict or violence. That was, until a hand suddenly touched your back — startled, you jumped away in fear.

"I thought you were asleep. I didn’t mean to scare you."

Your blurred vision gradually cleared — standing in front of you was Dae-Ho. He raised both hands in the air, palms forward, signaling he had no ill intent. Your heart was still racing, but the panic slowly gave way to relief. You exhaled quietly and returned to your spot, trying to steady your breath.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

"No, you can sit."

He sat down gently, careful not to disturb the stillness around you. For a while, you both just stared into the dim surroundings. The silence began to press down on you — thick, heavy — making the air feel almost too dense to breathe. Summoning your courage, you decided to break it.

"What game did you play during the Five Brotherhood round?"

"Konggi."

Your eyes widened in genuine surprise, the expression quickly flashing across your face. Dae-Ho let out a restrained chuckle — your reaction was simply too pure, too funny in the best way. You looked adorably puzzled, and he couldn’t help but smile.

"I have four older sisters, so I know how to play it really well."

His tone softened. His gaze drifted forward, but he wasn’t seeing the room anymore. He was somewhere far back in time — in a memory filled with noise, laughter, and friendly arguments over who would win next. Every round brought a small victory, every win a lesson. And somehow, it had helped prepare him for this brutal present.

"Wow. I’ve never played it, but my grandma used to tell me about it. How do you play it properly?"

Something lit up in Dae-Ho’s eyes — a warm spark of enthusiasm. You both shifted to face each other as if ready to play for real. There were no pebbles around, but that didn’t matter. His hands became the game. He gestured through the steps with practiced ease, explaining each move, each little trick. You leaned in, watching carefully, trying to memorize it all. Then you started repeating the gestures.

He followed your movements closely, checking your form — but then his gaze drifted. Not to your hands. You were frowning in focus, brows knit together, your eyes jumping between his hands and yours, lips slightly parted as you mouthed the steps again. Your concentration made your features glow with something soft and earnest.

《She’s so cute.》

The thought hit him like an arrow. Sudden, sharp, inescapable. He froze, breath shallow, just watching you.

"Am I doing it right?"

"What?"

"The technique — am I doing it right?"

Your voice brought him back. He blinked, as if waking from a dream, and looked at your hands again. You repeated the gesture.

"Y-yeah, it’s perfect. You’re doing great."

You clapped softly, your lips curling into a bright, delighted smile. It was the kind of smile that made others smile without realizing — and he did. His grin was a little crooked, maybe even a bit goofy, but full of genuine joy. He was truly happy for you.

"When we get out of this place, let’s definitely play konggi together?"

The idea made something warm spark in him.

"Absolutely, we will."

"Let’s make it a competition — see who does it better?"

He squinted playfully, lips tugging into a confident smirk.

"Definitely. I’m totally going to win."

"You know, I have a very skilled teacher… I think I have a real shot."

Your quiet laugh mingled with his. You both knew — the teacher was him. That shared understanding added a special note to the moment, a warmth that wrapped around you like a blanket.

You stayed there, side by side, keeping watch over your sleeping teammates. Danger still lurked in the shadows… but right now, for a little while, you felt safe. Because you weren’t alone.

[peace-hunter]

tfone au where OP is created as the last of the primes but way after them, a sparkling born at what were thought to be the last days of the war against the quintessons, the beginning of a new generation of peace after eons of war. a child meant to be loved and raised knowing nothing of war nor sacrifice.

he's kept mostly out of the spotlight by his siblings, who don't wish to expose him to everyone's optics so young, and want to wait until the war is done and over to properly introduce him to their people.

except of course the primes are betrayed and murdered by sentinel, the war is lost and everyone who knows and cared for the truth is either banished or outright killed in order to suppress it.

and the high guard, the ones the primes trusted the most, the ones that were supposed to protect them, the ones who failed in their most important duty, have to make a choice. to take the last prime, their last hope, with them to the surface, a hostile environment where there's little to no supplies and where they'll be hunted down by both sentinel and the quintessons as the biggest threat to their regimen.

or hide him in plain sight. place him where sentinel won't think to look for him. one more sparkling among many. and hope it will be enough to keep him alive. pray to primus that he'll protect his last child long enough for them to come back for him when it's safer (even if most of them have already lost their faith on him when he allowed the rest of his children to be massacred like that)

they almost lose their resolve when they realize they will have to take the little one's cog away in order to make him blend in with the rest of the newborns (and oh do they burn with murderous intent when they see what sentinel has done to their people but it's not the time yet-) but in the end they decide an impaired little prime is better than a dead one.

and so in the chaos of thirteen dead primes and a sudden energon crisis, a little sparkling who very few mechs really knew about and even fewer had seen completely vanishes. and in the depths of iacon a mech in charge of a new batch of newborns scratches their helm in confusion as they realize they must have miscounted the first time.

optimus prime is quietly erased from any official records by sentinel, written off as dead when they find a sparkling's frame mangled beyond recognition after an attack on the base of those rebels that insist on being a thorn on his side. killing the sparkling hadn't been precisely in his plans, he probably could've found some use for it after all, but he's not particularly upset about it either.

and orion pax grows up with an ache on his spark that tells him he's missing something far more important than a t-cog and dreams of gentle and loving hands, cradling him against the frames of mechs he cannot recall the faces of.

[alittlelessalone]

I’ve been thinking about the AU I setup in this post about Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu getting stuck back in their old bodies for a little bit and getting a chance to write some changes into being (and say goodbye to Shen Yuan’s family). The rest of the context there isn’t really important for this post, but I implied that they’d find some vague way to help Bing-ge and I wanted to give how they helped him here.

So post the extras, Bing-ge is left in his world with only the memory of a nice shizun and an understanding that he’s miserable but no idea how to change things. But then one night, a figure reaches out to him in his dreams.

And of course he’s immediately suspicious. He controls his dreams and this figure isn’t something he understands. His close are weird and he’s wearing something strange on his eyes, but when he looks into those eyes, they look just like nice shizun’s.

And the figure reached out to him and says he’s sorry that he doesn’t have a better answer. He says he and Airplane tried, but that idiot could only work so many miracles with the shitty story he wrote, so they were a little limited. He says that Bing-ge doesn’t have to take his offer, but he hopes he will.

And Bing-ge is confused and demands to know what he’s talking about. But the figure just says that if Bing-ge takes his offer, he’ll lose his powers, immortality, and even cultivation. He’ll end up weak and ordinary, but he’ll get a second chance at life.

And Bing-ge asks why he has to go away and sacrifice to get anything. He says he knows the figure is nice shizun and asks why he can’t just choose him and stay by his side, but the figure just pulls him in close and apologizes and says he’s sorry he can’t do more for him, but he says that he’ll be sending Bing-ge to a grieving family who would have just lost their son. He says to tell them Shen Yuan sent him and they’d understand.

And Bing-ge is scared and confused in a way he hasn’t been in many, many years but nice shizun keeps hugging him, so he reluctantly agrees. And suddenly a bright light flashes around him and his head begins to spin. And as the world is fading, he hears nice shizun yell to him not to flirt with his sister.

And then he wakes up and feels weak and disoriented. His core and demonic powers are both gone and he’s in a strange room with all sorts of strange, glowing objects. Then a tall, beautiful man rushes in and demands to know who he is.

And when he says he’s Lou Binghe and Shen Yuan sent him, the man collapses to the ground and hugs him and cries that his brother is really gone, but he’s glad this means he’s safe. And Lou Binghe doesn’t understand, but the man’s arms are warm, so he collapses into them.

And over the next few months, he learns more about the world. He reads the novel Proud Immortal Demon Way and finally understands just how lost he was. He reads the extras Airplane and Cucumber published while here, learning the truth about Shen Qingqiu and why he was the way he was. And Lou Binghe can’t bring himself to forgive him, but he’s glad he apparently didn’t leave the man to suffer for all eternity. And he laughs in delight when he learns about Shang Qinghua and Mobei-Jun and how apparently his stoic right hand has secretly always been a hopeless romantic.

And he reads the extra about himself and realizes that all it gave him was a single hand reaching out. And while that’s sort of scary, it also means that the kindness he’s found from Shen Yuan’s family wasn’t something forced into being, but rather a choice they make every single day.

And Lou Binghe vows to live this new life better and take advantage of the opportunity. And he also reaffirms his promise to Shen Yuan that he won’t flirt with his sister. Though fortunately, he never said anything about his eldest brother. And while this cool, elegant, beautiful man might not be Shen Qingqiu, he is certainly a Shen. And this one actually loves him in return.

[shannonsketches]

something something foils moving in opposite directions Goku's always happy to seek and fight stronger opponents because he spent most of his life being the strongest guy in the room and Vegeta wants to be the strongest/is always exhausted to find stronger opponents because he spent most of his life having to navigate his survival around the whims of the strongest guy in the universe room and so Goku has a foundation of safety and stability and so spends his time craving challenge and adventure and Vegeta has a foundation of challenge and adventure and spends his time craving safety and stability and the overlaid section of their venn diagram is that the only way they know how acquire and maintain those things is through battle

[arolesbianism]

Finally got around to finishing the second nugget batch, this time featuring several favorite children and the absolute least favorite child <3