#this one is kinda wholesome

[diddle-riddle]

Wings

"And so... you have wings. On top of... everything else."

Edward felt his symbiote roommate purr inside him. He smiled with fondness at the recurring feeling: the Bat behaves like a big happy cat on a regular basis, what is frankly adorable.

"I do. Not many of our kind possess this characteristic," the extraterrestrial specified via his low, guttural voice. "I always loved to fly. May I show you?"

"I would like to... know what it feels like..."

Bruce purred some more, his smooth black head bumped against the redhead's cheek. He really resembled a kitty asking for cuddles.

'Bruce'. The Bat allowed his human host assigned him a name, he appreciated the way said appellation rolled on his tongue. He was also fond of hearing Ed and his two children give him affectionate nicknames. These were always... very cute.

"They are beautiful," Eddie whispered when Bruce unfolded two large wings on his back.

The appendages were comparable to giant bat wings, with a cut reminiscent of demon representations you find in fairytales and illustrated novels.

The symbiote hadn't taken over his host's body, only were visible his head attached to Ed's shoulder via a snake-like neck and the strong black wings he introduced to his human for the first time.

Meanwhile Edward trusted Jason and Stephanie not to leave their shared place. His kids may be reckless hurricanes, they wouldn't put themselves at risk whilst their dad agreed to test another charming aspect of his alien roommate's capacities: Bruce swore they would fly tonight.

Hidden in the shadows, standing on the flat roof located on top of his apartment building, both leather-ish venous wings wide open on each side of him and his long ginger hair drawing pumpkin orange waves into the wind, Edward looked like an angel.

An... angel of darkness, perhaps?

"You are beautiful, Eddie Nygma," Bruce mirrored the compliment.

Spending time with a lovely human family who welcomed him in their circle considerably softened the Bat's entire line of conduct.

"You flatterer, trying to make me blush again," Ed smiled, indeed blushing like a schoolgirl at the praise.

He shared an enamored glance with the creature, looking right into the glowing white triangular eyes, then he stroked the smooth black forehead between the symbiote's pointy ears.

It felt like his digits caressed the skin of a... frog.

"Tell me, Bats... how powerful are these wings of yours?"

"Powerful enough to carry you and me wherever we want, little one."

This sounded promising.

Eddie restrained the Dracula-based joke he suddenly felt the need to release. His partner wouldn't understand the reference, but no doubt showing him pictures of imaginary vampires portrayed with wings or able to transform into bats will be funny.

Perhaps at the origin, these legends starring vampires come from actual symbiotes who would have landed on Earth and bonded with humans, who knows?

The wings flapped into the fresh night air. No one will look up, even in the streets where Bruce and Edward noted a lingering human presence despite the late hour.

No one will see them, they were... free to do as they please.

The Bat detected his host's raising excitement for the upcoming activity. It made him feel... proud, to provoke the redhead's genuine enthusiasm.

"Are you ready for your first flight?"

"I am. I really am. I... I trust you..."

Eddie took a deep breath.

Their skin started to merge into one, the symbiote's body recovering Edward's, like a dark oil that engulfed his limbs and finished by closing around his face.

The Bat's posture changed, both of them crouched on the edge of the roof, the wings stretched then folded mildly on their back.

From angelic vision, the entity haunting this roof turned into a terrifying gargoyle watching over.

"Do not worry, Eddie," the large mouth full of spiky teeth murmured in a surprisingly soft intonation. "I've got us."

I know, Edward responded internally, what the symbiote naturally perceived. I trust you.

As if these words were the magical code or a command that triggered the alien's next movements, he abruptly jumped from their spot... and fully unfolded his wings, in order to propel them farther toward the sky.

Bruce noticed the pure, intense euphoria radiating from his human, mixed with the adrenaline and a tiny dose of remaining apprehension.

"I told you, Eddie," the Bat gloated. "Freedom is a delightful feeling."

Edward couldn't agree more.

This is truly what the wings embodied: freedom. And right here right now as they were flying together into the night, Bruce was so happy to share this incredible bonding moment out of time with his dear little human host.

....................

Read “Wings” on AO3 here Discover the rest of the DC Symbiotes Series on AO3 here

[donelywell]

March 24 2024

Sonic might not be much of a singer (that's more Tails' thing), but whenever his kid is bummed out, he'll pull out his guitar and start singing to lift his spirits.

Normally it's just Tails feeling like he doesn't deserve the life he has now, or that Sonic might leave him like all of the families Tails had beforehand. So Sonic has a small list of songs he switches between to remind him that the two are stuck together like glue.

[arttsuka]

Some past fiddlestan? (Like Ford just went through the portal. He gone now. Past. Yk?)

The mystery misery yaoi

[ricky-mortis]

Curtwen Week Day 1: Pre Canon/London <3 :)

[marragurl]

Saxaphone player Gallagher has not left my mind since the jazz night art dropped AND THEN Robin saying Halovian’s innately have good voices and Sunday used to hum lullabies to her as kids happened in the 2.2 special program, and I’m sure you guys can see where my unfortunate Galladay heart is going with this.

Whoever decided to make this art, I love you. I hope your pillow is cool every night, you’re never stuck in traffic, and your water is refreshing with every sip.

Also the art of Sunday with the White Gentlemen drink in the S.P.A.R.K.L.E jazz night event has also spiraled into me delusionally thinking that’s his go to drink. Which is hilarious since Robin has hinted before that he seems to have a massive sweet tooth in her letters.

(Sunday how do you even make holding a drink menacing, Sunday please get some therapy-)

So imagine this:

Pre 2.0 Galladay, where they’re both wary and suspicious of each other but didn’t do anything outright. Sunday slowly began to visit Gallagher’s bar whenever he had time to observe the Hound, initially on the down low just to get a sense of what he was working with and what to keep an eye on. He always gravitated to that one corner booth that every bar had with the most privacy, and just stalked there for a few hours before leaving. (Smol menacing birb in a tree vibes)

Gallagher obviously knew that Sunday was doing this (even though everyone else seemed to somehow completely miss him, Gallagher wouldn’t be surprised if Sunday was doing some weird Harmony mind tricks), and after the first few “stakeouts,” he bit the bullet and actually approached the table to engage with Sunday, on the off chance this was some weird “test of loyalty” by the Halovian to see if the Hound would swallow his pride to serve his so-called masters.

Nothing terrible happened, but he remained passive-aggressively polite when serving him, and Sunday remained passive-aggressively cool-headed in response. There was some snark of what dear “sweet-toothed” Sunday would want at a bar, and an icy reply of “aren’t you the master drink smith? Why don’t you show me those skills you boasted about?” which led to Gallagher being petty and giving Sunday the White Gentlemen drink, both for the story behind it being such a metaphor for Sunday, and because it was on the more bitter side of alcoholic drinks.

Sunday wasn’t too against the drink; it wasn’t something he would have ordered if it had been his choice, but it wasn’t a bad drink by any means. He couldn’t help but continue to drink it even after Gallagher left his little hidey booth to go back to the main bar, but he’d never stoop so low as to complement the Hound. Of course, he never ordered anything else from then on, only White Gentleman. In fact, over time it seemed to slowly get better, the flavors grew on him, and he couldn't help but look forward to it during difficult nights in the Dreamscape.

If Gallagher tried to needle him into a different drink, Sunday just bit back a “oh? Admitting defeat? I thought this was your best drink for me?” with a little smirk while Gallagher had to use every bit of self-control to not punch him in the face.

As time went on, the bar slowly became a place Sunday frequented to not quite relax, but to get away from the hustle and bustle of Penacony and his duties as one of its main faces. The stresses slowly started piling up, especially with the Charmony fast approaching in a few months and all that came with it.

Gallagher didn’t seem to loosen up regarding his attitude with Sunday, but he did get better at shoving down the visceral hatred he had for everything to do with The Family and Sunday as time went on. He didn’t get soft with Sunday per se, but he definitely kept an eye out for him, and definitely knew when to cut off his drinks on days where it seemed that Sunday wasn’t all that there for their usual veiled comments towards one another when he went to serve him his drink.

It started small, with Sunday staying later and later until sometimes he was the last one to leave the bar to return to reality. Gallagher wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, still wasn’t quite sure this wasn’t some weird long-term test Sunday was devising, especially since he still seemed to be the same ruthless Family member, the same Head of the Oak Family, when Gallagher was working as a Bloodhound outside the bar. For some reason though, within the enclosed space of this strange sanctuary, it was almost peaceful between the two.

One night, there was something wrong when Sunday entered the bar during Gallagher’s shift. He saw a bit of a crowd near the small stage that was within eyesight of his little hidey booth, it seemed some of the musicians of the live band were arguing? He watched as Gallagher came over, seemed to try to speak with the group before honing in on one of the musicians who had been making the most noise and seemed to be about to get physical with the rest. Sunday watched as Gallagher picked up the musician by the scruff of their suit with one hand and carried them towards the doors and lightly tossed them out.

(It was the first time Sunday had actually seen Gallagher perform anything resembling the actual duty of a Bloodhound. It only hit him that he’d only ever seen the other when giving reports, orders, or at the bar. Why was this so shocking to him, he’d seen the man’s arms before, hard not to with his slovenly dress and messy clothing style, as if he couldn’t bother to hide away his imperfections from the world, not like Sunday who refused to be seen by the world, to dare to show one thing off about himself despite his countless failings- he’s getting far too distracted by one meager showing of strength, focus Sunday)

There had always been a live music segment. Sunday was curious to see what would happen with the band missing a member, but was distracted by Gallagher placing his usual White Gentlemen in front of him before heading back to the musicians without a single word to him. Gallagher took a moment to speak with the rest of the band, who seemed to be coming out of their shock and took on worried looks. Sunday could only watch in muted shock as Gallagher went behind the bar and came back with a case, opening it to reveal a saxophone. He then went on stage with the rest of the group, positioned himself further to the side and in the back amongst the shadows within Sunday’s line of sight, and played with the band for the rest of the night.

Sunday couldn’t look away.

He was frozen as he watched Gallagher seamlessly transition from song to song, taking only small breaks to continue serving the other patrons before heading back in. Sunday only remembered about his own drink when his gloves began to get wet from the ice melting into condensation on his glass.

Something felt off within Sunday, and for the first time since Robin’s debut, he couldn't help humming to the music of the band, music that wasn’t of his own sister’s making. He couldn’t help but remember those little concerts the two would have, taking care of his little sister, his only world. He would do anything to keep the Harmony, to keep their family going. When was the last time they truly spent time together? Before he became the Head of the Oak Family? Before he couldn't recognize his own smile?

He was so lost in his thoughts, in memories he thought he buried, that he didn’t realize that it was once again closing time, and he was once again the last one left. He only snapped out of it when Gallagher came by to grab his empty glass, only quirking a questioning brow at him before heading back to the bar.

Gallagher had been keeping a quiet eye on the Halovian that night from the back of the band, in the shadows he felt the most comfort in when in the Dreamscape of Penacony. He had watched Sunday’s eyes glaze over, and the only reason he hadn’t felt offended by the seeming disinterest was the look in the other man’s eyes reminding him of his own when he looked in the mirror. The same look of shame, regret, loss, longing, of the wishes to regain everything he had lost. The same look he strove to hide under every bit of the facade he had crafted of this new self, but came back all too often with every reference of the Family found within his prison in the Dreamscape.

Maybe it was the shared nostalgia within his own heart, that little bit of his true self that he thought died when the Family tore out everything that made him who he was, that made him return behind the bar and begin making Sunday another White Gentlemen, giving Sunday a small nod to beckon him over. He wasn’t expecting anything from it, and he masked his own surprise when Sunday actually left his little shelter to come and take a seat in front of him at the bar. Even while out of it, Gallagher made note of the quiet confidence the other still carried himself. Nothing seemed wrong to anyone else looking at him, only for the lost look in his eyes.

The first time in the many months that they’ve been skirting around each other, and finally they seemed to be face to face.

It was quiet as Gallagher made Sunday his usual drink, a drink he had been slowly changing over the months to be sweeter and sweeter that Sunday never quite seemed to notice, or if he did, he never said anything, only seeming to savor it more each subsequent night. Maybe not even Gallagher noticed his own changes to the drink, subtle as they were.

It was quiet as Sunday took the finished drink, and it was quiet as his eyes slid over the bartop to see the saxophone case laying open with the instrument inside. It was quiet as Gallagher followed his eyes, as he came out from behind the bartop to take the saxophone out and take a seat in a chair only one seat down from Sunday’s. It was quiet as Gallagher began to play to his audience of one.

It was quiet as Sunday quietly hummed along.

It was quiet as they both knew that it would not last.

OK yea so this was all because I heard ‘La vie en rose’ at the end of the Jazz night event and went “Damn I wish that’s Gallagher playing on his Sax” and then we spiraled.

Uh. Idk what it is with me having a small ship moment which then spirals into a full blown writing session. My mind blanked out and as I came to I find out that I made a whole ass little one shot over here then completely forgot about it WHOOPS

So yea, hope my fellow Galladay enjoyers… enjoyed! I think I’ve slowly begun to crave… not domestic or fluff per se from these two, but after every AO3 fic being super dark between them (which I get! They are the toxic yaoi kings of Penacony as of writing this, no one is denying that!) I think I want to see them be explored in a more melancholic sense. Not quite the “forbidden” love angle, but in the “damn we kinda have some parallels, and maybe in another life we could have gotten along but there’s too much baggage and anger, both historically and currently to really even try anything”

I have this feeling this may not be the last time I write about these two… is Galladay going to be the ship that gets me to actually use my AO3 account?

[schoute]

Nobody look at me I'm posting self-indulgent oc x canon art and fic (under the cut) 🙈

Warnings: NSFW THERE'S COCK TALK and canon typical violence so unless you're an adult don't click.

A swirl of fragrant smoke whirled around Crocodile's head as he exhaled with a hard sigh.

What had started out like any other day had quickly devolved into irritating chaos.

It wasn't the first time the Revolutionary Army had sought him out, keen on trying to get their hands on his imported weapons. In fact, it was the second time, most recently, that they'd tried.

The second time she had tried.

Peachy hair danced across his mind, with her frilly shorts and lilting chuckle, and Crocodile bit down hard on his cigar. It was the second time Kerry Corduroy had tried to steal from him.

He wasn't a forgiving man, and the first time she'd tried to raid his weapons supplies with a plucky little crew of Revolutionaries he'd sent her hobbling back to her ship with a gouge from his hook in her thigh.

A blast in the distance rattled the crystal ashtray on his desk, and Crocodile's hooked arm twitched reflexively, Kerry's toned, bloody thigh floating through his memory.

He'd have to ensure that the punishment he gave her this time made his intentions abundantly clear; no one stole from Crocodile.

Another, closer blast sent his matching crystal decanter careening to the ground with a crash sending crystal and his favorite scotch in every direction of his office floor. Crocodile clenched his fist; he'd make Kerry lick every drop of that expensive scotch off the floor, glass shards be damned. He'd twist a hand into the peachy waves at the nape of her neck, kick her feet from under her until she was on her knees in front of him--

His cock suddenly gave an interested throb and Crocodile grunted, annoyed that the pretty little revolutionary thorn in his side was making him hard while she ran rampant around his warehouse destroying his things and attempting, once again, to rob him.

What annoyed him the most, however, was that he'd allowed himself to indulge in these fantasies of her even before this moment. After he'd left her marred and hobbling out of his office he'd thought about Kerry; the way she'd swaggered all hips into his office, confidently placing a boot on his chest while he'd been lounging on the chaise.

She was stupid for even trying to use intimidation tactics on him, and he'd laughed in her face for it; but Kerry had simply smiled in return--an annoyingly charming smile--all while digging the heel of her boot harder into his chest, daring to say, ‘I’m taking your shit, handsome’.

He'd wanted to wipe that grin off her face right then, it would have been easy to kill her, and for a moment Crocodile considered it. But he wasn't interested in picking a fight with the Revolutionary Army, nor was he interested in them having his weapons; so he arrived at a compromise.

That's when he'd sunk his hook into her thigh, pulling her closer with whispered promises that if she came here again, it'd be the last thing she did. A conveniently timed intervention from some other Revolutionary Army members had prevented their conversation from continuing, but hadn't stopped Kerry's pale eyes from meeting his. Even with his hook buried into her thigh she hadn't lifted her boot from his chest or screamed for him to stop, and it was the intensity of her gaze that had first gotten his mind into this mess over the next few weeks.

He replayed that moment in his mind, absently rubbing the spot on his chest where her heel had been; except when he replayed that moment in his mind alone in bed at night he imagined what could have happened if they hadn't been interrupted. He imagined the shit-eating grin on Kerry's face pressed into the fine silk pillow of his chaise as he bent her over, smoothing a hand over her ridiculous frilled shorts before slapping her ass. He imagined how she'd sound, gasping and whimpering under his touch, how she'd beg for more and how he'd willingly give it to her; if she could behave.

It was those thoughts of Ms. Kerry Corduroy that frustrated him to no end, and that were making him hard even now as she stupidly returned to try and steal from him again.

BANG

The door to his office flew open, and Crocodile turned with a glare to see who was interrupting him when there were Revolutionaries to deal with outside.

Those pale eyes he'd been imaging moments ago locked into his.

Standing in the doorway to his office was his brazen little Revolutionary; peachy waves wild under her brimmed hat, and that same irritatingly attractive smirk he'd been fantasizing about. His eyes fell to her thigh, just below the teasing ruffles of her shorts, and he couldn't help but grin.

“That’s healing nicely,” he nodded nonchalantly to the starburst shaped scar decorating her inner thigh. “I should give you one on the other side to match.”

Kerry huffed and popped her hip. “I'd like to see you try, handsome.”

He wouldn't even have to try. Within the blink of an eye Crocodile could have his hook latched into any damn part of her he pleased, wrenching her closer while using his devil fruit powers to suck the very life out of her then and there…

As fate would have it, death wouldn't be in the cards for Ms. Corduroy today, he decided. It would be so much more satisfying watching her atone in any way he saw fit for all the trouble and destruction she'd caused him.

Sand drifted from his body and twisted around Kerry's legs, manipulating her into facing away from him. With an easy glide of the same sand he was on her, using his hand to pin and twist her wrist to her back, the combination of his height and strength along with his devil fruit powers easily pressed her into the wall of his office. An enticing gasp left her lips as the pressure of his body collided with hers, and Crocodile's cock gave another untimely throb.

“Whatcha got there,” Kerry drawled, with a wriggle of her hips. “Is that a black market gun in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?”

Crocodile grunted; Kerry’s wiggling hips were effectively grinding her perfect ass into his hard length and the sensation was enough to send exciting thrills through his body.

It pissed him off.

“Quiet,” he growled in her ear, and gave her twisted arm a cruel tug, enjoying the way she gasped and arched back against him. “Where’s your little rescue committee?”

Kerry struggled against his hold, but her expression remained the same; that smirk that haunted his fantasies and caused a frustrating mixture of anger and desire in his gut.

“Oh they'll be here,” she said, her words tight from the weight of his body crushing into her. “I just thought we could have some alone time first.”

Her tone was teasing and silky even when slightly strained, and that frustrated him too. He wanted to show her right now a better use for that smart mouth; once again imagining how she'd look on her knees in front of him, eagerly taking his cock in that impudent mouth…

“Stupid of you.” He said, and drew his hooked hand slowly along the length of her unscarred thigh, leaving a thin line of red in its wake. He paused at the crux of her thigh, directly across from where he'd marked the other side and pressed the tip harder into her flesh.

He could feel her shiver against him at his touch, and Crocodile bit down hard on his cigar to ground himself. Trying to force the scenes he'd been imagining between them out of his mind.

“I should kill you for showing up here again,” he snarled, and applied more pressure with his hook point against her thigh. “But that wouldn't teach you how to behave, would it?”

Kerry sucked in a sharp breath below him, and even with the shadow of her hat he could see the flush painted across her freckled cheeks.

“I'd like to see you try and make me, handsome.”

She repeated her teasing words from only moments ago and Crocodile grinned.

He would gladly take that challenge.

Another boom suddenly shook the walls of his office, blasting out a nearby window and causing himself and Kerry to stumble, trying to keep their balance.

The distraction was enough that Kerry had somehow managed to twist out of his hold, and Crocodile watched as she sprinted from his office.

He could easily stop her, he should stop her.

Then she paused, and Crocodile watched as she spun on a booted heel to face him.

With that infuriating smirk gracing her pretty pink lips she blew him a kiss before whirling around, sprinting again towards the exit.

Crocodile huffed, and smoke twisted around his head, dancing across his vision just like his little Revolutionary soldier had and he promised himself next time he saw her, he'd make good on his own promise to teach her exactly how to behave.

[catgirlweed]

idk

[insertsomthinawesome]

@priellan COME GET THE BOY!!! ✨

Some different ideas for how that could go down >:D And me picking something personally self indulgent again asdlfjsdLJSDGLDSJG I wanna see him with a Tangled rapunzel length hair braid... it would be so pretty...

[riddlers-left-buttcheek]

So i recently found out this happened in harley quinn the animated series and i was like who? what?? when??? so i didn't know about clock king before then and went to investigate aaand i found another design, or rather, a different clock king (apparently there's two) now tell me why

why does he just look like riddler's and scarecrow's lovechild??? or i guess the child of the first clock king and riddler, but i like my first thought better like come on, the suit, the hair, that smug punchable face

really dig this one tho ngl

[yakuza-emulation]

Yes, I think a rose matches your green perfectly!

So, those Mario & Luigi games, huh?

I’m gonna be honest, I was going to be normal, but I just fell unreasonably in love with Prince Peasley.

He’s just so stupid and fun, and I’m now realizing I might just have a thing for blondes… (this is like the third blond I’ve grown a fascination for)

I somewhat tried to do a similar shading style to the official art (where certain colours not in the original characters design at utilized as shading), but I didn’t really succeed. I still had fun messing with certain colours though, so I guess it was a success in the end, after all :)

[fatedroses]

He is here to stare into his soul.

[maiios]

woohoo doomed robot yuri!!!

designs by @lyss-butterscotch

[star-dust-no-name]

Cursed Yellow Flowers

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*✩‧₊˚

Murder drones N x reader (one-sided love)

Hanahaki AU + Gender Neutrual Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*✩‧₊˚

You aren't sure when it started to happen, maybe it was all the way back then when you first arrived on Copper 9 with your fellow coworkers, maybe it was when you and N started to form a friendship, or maybe just maybe it was when N told you about his feelings for V.

"YOU CANT BE SERIOUS N"

You said with a surprised tone to your fabricated voice

"R, I am very serious"

"But N, V does nothing but harass and abuse you"

"I know but maybe she does it because we haven't talked much?"

You sighed, N is a pure cinnamon roll, and you couldn't really see V and N working out as a couple.

"I'll help you N but you owe me 2 gallons of oil"

N gasped and, with a huge smile, came running up to you and gave you a big hug before going to the entrance of the shuttle spreading his wings and leaving to get those 2 gallons of oil.

And there was that feeling in your chest again as if something was bothering you as if you were being suffocated from the inside out despite not needing air to survive. You originally thought it might be your clothes you arrived in that were making you uncomfortable or maybe a bug in your system, but then you realized it was N, the feeling in your chest at the beginning when you started to form a friendship with N was warm and cozy and strangely welcoming but then when N started talking about V that feeling slowly starting becoming colder and colder until today when it felt like your chest was about to explode.

You started coughing and coughing, and at first, it was oil coming out from your mouth, and then it was bits of code that you coughed up. It took a while for all the bits of code to come out, but when it finally stopped, you glanced down and saw that the bits of code started forming flowers.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*✩‧₊˚

LOADING INFORMATION ABOUT YELLOW CARNATIONS...

LOADING...

You sighed, according to the text that was currently loading in front of you from your visor. The yellow flowers you coughed up from your code are called yellow carnations. If it wasn't for the infinite amount of information you had stored in your code, you probably would have freaked out by now.

LOADING COMPLETE

Yellow Carnations

Yellow Carnations are beautiful yellow flowers that blossom from late spring to autumn, but don't let their looks fool you as yellow Carnations have a sour meaning behind them, meaning disappointment and rejection which is why they're one of the most common flowers to cough up when someone has Hanahaki disease

You had a confused but curious look on your visor quickly, pulling up the keyboard on your visor again

WHAT IS HANAHAKI DISEASE?

enter

SEARCHING

LOADING COMPLETE

Hanahaki disease

Hanahaki disease is a disease where the victim experiences one sided love or unrequited love, Hanahaki disease can be stopped by either confessing to your crush or by having a special surgery done to remove the flowers however when the surgery is complete you will no longer feel romantic attraction to anyone if the victim does not confess or get a surgery they will die a slow and painful death.

You weren't sure if robots could have hanahaki I mean for you it was just bits of code that formed into flowers and you didn't need air anyways so, would you just forever cough bits of code until your whole coding system was coughed up?

You grimaced at the thought you then went back to the previous information, "disappointment and rejection." The disappointed feeling made sense as you didn't want V and N to become a couple, but rejection? No, it couldn't be...

"R!"

You quickly turned around, ignoring the warmth feeling in your chest as you heard that familiar welcoming and sweet voice.

"Hey N!, I'll go down there in one second"

"OH, no worries, R ill be up there in a jiffy"

You didn't want N to find the flowers, especially since flowers are long since extinct on copper-9. Before N could even fly up there, you came gliding down your legs touching the snow as it crunched beneath you. N quickly gave you a bouquet, but instead of a bouquet full of flowers, it was a bouquet with worker drone arms.

"I got the 2 gallons of oil, but then I also remembered you like to munch on the arms of worker drones, so I got you this bouquet!"

You smiled thanking N.

Maybe for a little while, you can accept that growing warm feeling.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*✩‧₊˚

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*✩‧₊˚

Authors Note: Yall I swear I'm in my returning arc it's just that my depression arc took over two seasons 😰, lmao anyways for right now I'm just going to focus on making masterlists (I come from the stars and the barbatos successor AU) and just focus on updating things and making more content for yall.

-Stardust☆

[cecexoxo]

Random things that happened to my Wayne Family sims today

Tim called Bruce and asked if he and Duke can stay over for a few days for some reason. He showed up angry and was talking about it to Duke

Later Tim and Duke went up to Damian's room and played video games with him and helped him with his homework until dinner was ready

While Jason was making dinner he got a call from Cass asking this

I have no Idea who she was talking about but Jason told her to think about it herself cause he doesn't know that person. THEN Santa called Jason and Jason just called him a weirdo and hung up lol

Later that day Tim asked Bruce for advice on what to do with his life and Bruce was very unhelpful lol

Then Damian also asked Bruce for advice.

Then Talia asked Damian to go to the theater with her

[eikichi-supremacy]

one thing that never gets old is yusuke losing his shit over kuwabara dying just to realize he's actually fine and then beat his ass over making him so worried in the first place

[justaregularken]

Werewolf girlfriend who possessively pulls you into bed to scent you all day, and whenever you try to get up she growls “Where the fuck are you going?”