#this prompt is very neutral so you could probably imagine it with any form of f/o besides the usual romantic stuff

[ihanbla-gmunka]

imagine your f/os with wings (or with flying-related abilities) letting you fly with them...

they prop you on their back or grasp you tightly against their chest as they soar into the wind!

you get to see all the sights that you've either seen or not seen, but at a completely different perspective!

imagine them going so high up in the sky that you touch a cloud; how does it feel?

are they good at flying? are they just average?

imagine the ones who are bad at flying. imagine them almost flying into a building and then making a quick save at the very last second!

ultimately, you decide that flying is too much of a safety hazard with them so y'all call a cab or walk or something of that sort...

but either way, your f/o loved flying with you! when you reach the surface, they begin to tell you about how much fun they had and the two of you discuss the sights you saw!

[pr.ship/c.mship dni • do not steal or repost]

[burgerrat]

"No one gets me like you do."

Harley Sawyer x Reader

NOTE: gender-neutral reader, mentions of gore, threats of violence & light angst.

(I'm gonna be honest the positive feedback with my headcanons made me wanna make s'more Harley stuff. Praying that I kept his personality as close to I think he'd act canonically. Ough

My main inspiration behind this was dovewingkinnie's art piece mixed with that scene in Sonic 2 where Dr. Robotnik's grabbing Agent Stone's face

Aaaaandddd the prompt that makes the title comes from melamemea's prompt list here!

Hope you enjoy!)

It felt like you had been watching the procedure for years, when only 30 minutes had passed by as the Doctor poked and prodded at some unfortunate, sedated Smiling Critter's insides.

Sprawled on an operating table as a robotic, three-fingered limb attached to the ceiling of the room, worked away with a scalpel; a mechanic vessel bent over the operating table, a singular, wide eye displayed on it's screen as it observed the process, also lending its pair of hands, when they were of need. 

He was gruesome in his work, yet his hand was gentle in the most skilled of ways, in however form it came.

A professional in his field, until the very end.

"Do I really have to sit through this?" You huffed, resting your head in your palm.

You were spooned into another of Harley's vessels, sitting cross legged as the metal giant behind you remained still, like a protective shell.

"Squeamish, are we?" The Doctor casually asked, not bothering to actually acknowledge you with one of his physical forms.

"No! I just- ugh, how do you sit through this without falling asleep? It's not like taking a walk around inside here will be the death of me."

Soon as you responded, the scrap robot behind you hummed to life, the operation before your eyes coming to a pause quickly, and now... the screen of the vessel behind you turned on, displaying that oh so familiar eye.

"Your blathering is distracting enough." The Doctor hissed, his anger thinly boiling over.

"I might as well put you on that table instead. Perhaps you'll find my work more 'interesting' once it's skin-deep?" He chuckled.

This was Dr. Sawyer's attempt at humor, only his sadistic side could see the amusement about his threats.

But you knew better, you knew he bluffed each time, because he'd never acted upon it. Not when he was furious, not when you were asleep and vulnerable.

You glared at the vessel behind you, as if to say:

'do it, I dare you.'

The eye on the screen squinted, a quiet confrontation.

Then, dropping all hints of sadism, his voice returned, gentle and monotone.

"I cannot, and will not allow you out of my sight. Set one foot outside of my laboratories, and you'll be just another lamb to the slaughter, I can guarantee the probabilities." 

He'd told you this a million times before, each time more frustrated than the last that he had to deal with such a thick headed person.

His apathetic logic brought him once more to question why, why he kept you. Why did this type of recognition mean so much to him, when it came not only unprofessionally, but brought him objectively nothing?

"I know, I know, Harl. Look, I'm sorry-"

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. His eye, once zoned out, focusing back on you.

Harl.

He liked the ring of that.

Only you bothered to give him nicknames like that.

He liked whatever this was that he was feeling, it... helped him relax.

"I just can't do it like you do- the patience. And at least you're doing something. Maybe I can be your assistan-?"

"Absolutely not." He interrupted before you had even completed your question.

"It's my work and my work alone. You may take notes if you wish, but I will not allow any interference. Especially from an unqualified hand." He sternly said.

You sighed in defeat, you knew how much his work meant to him, you happily engaged- but watching it actually happen? Much less intriguing (or violent, really) than you'd imagined at first.

"However..."

His sing-songy tone as he continued caught your attention. His metallic hands gently took hold of yours briefly, before they snaked up to cup your face, the vessel's head lowering slightly so his eye could analyze your expression. Your entire face, really.

You could feel your cheeks heating up slightly against the cold touch of the machine's fingers as they smushed your face gingerly, his fingers slowly moving in small, smooth circles.

"Mmm, yes... I think we can build a little enrichment area for this little mouse."

He purred, his eye squinting playfully.

He knew what he was doing.

For a moment, a brief moment, he indulged exactly what you wished for: more of his attention, his touch. His hands did not come off of your face at any point, one moved to knead your head as the other continued to study your physiognomy, observing your behaviour, taking mental notes.

But all good things must come to an end, regrettably. And, much as he cherished you, his work was more important, you (or anything else) weren’t above it.

"I do wish to study your reactions upon being presented with certain... situations." The Doctor trailed off as he readjusted his position around you, his consciousness switching back to the other vessel and the robotic arm hovering over the operating table, casually going back to digging his scalpel around the Smiling Critter’s guts mixed with stuffing. His tone became fully professional, as if he were discussing business with you.

"E-excuse me??" You babbled out, face still red from his probing.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I won't place you in any hostile environment. Since my surgeries are so boring to you, I might just have to leave you with some homework to do instead, mm?"

Once his response was met with silence, he continued.

"I'll just place a few seeds around a labyrinth for you to find and collect, and see how well your cognitive abilities are. After that? Who knows! I might reward you with some cheese." He mocked.

You raised an eyebrow, unamused.

"Fine. So long as I'm doing something." You huffed, earning a contented chuckle for a response from the Doctor as he worked.

You were tempted to ask him to elaborate instead of speaking about his metaphorical 'lab mouse', to satisfy your curiosity, but you didn't want him to think you doubted your safety around him... he'd kept you alive this far, was ever-so vigilant to make sure you were well and alive.

You trust him.

You care.

~

"Most would come to think I'd be laying some sort of trap. The logical outcome." Harley observed once he concluded his procedure on the Critter, the robotic arm once more going still, the vessel remaining active and now... focusing on you.

"Oh, to be so blissfully void of paranoia."

"Yes." You agreed, then shaking your head, "but I know you, Harley. You word it like we're strangers." You added. "I should be able to trust you."

Silence.

"Do you know why?" The Doctor vaguely asked, his monotone voice sounded like he was miles away, yet he was so close to you. The automaton had begun approaching, the one behind you had turned on again. Yet he seemed... disconnected.

Not in the technological sense of his vessels.

"Why won't you lay a trap for me...?" You tried to clarify, "or why I should be able to trust..?"

"Neither." He scoffed.

"Why it is human nature to seek pointless connections, such as this. Nothing of value is extracted, there are no means to an end. What's the value of a life, when it can mean so much more? When it can be so much more?"

You tilted your head slightly, raising to your feet.

"Why does it have to mean anything?" Your answer was another question.

"It has to mean something to me." He barked.

That hurt a little. No… maybe not his intention, but your expression changed, and it didn't go unnoticed by him.

"Don't I?" Your voice softened.

He made a noise, like he was about to respond, yet held himself back the moment the words were going to leave his speakers. The main vessel he was using to express himself retracted a little.

You'd caught him off guard enough to remain speechless.

Because you were right.

You meant something to him.

You, who interacted with him even when you had no need for him, unlike the company who'd betrayed him twice.

You, who listened, who liked him even through his irritable, sadistic nature.

You, the one person that came back to find him, even if there wasn't much left.

And it wasn't because of his research.

You came back, for him.

"Harl...?" Your voice quivered a little, concerned with what his reply would be. Now, you were starting to doubt your safety through the hurt.

"You do." 

His response came out quick but monotone, void of emotion.

He wasn't sure what to make of himself. He hated it when others displayed sympathy towards his experiments, but he was telling the truth: you meant something to him, and, much as he hated to come to terms with it, it wasn't for his research.

You sighed in relief, your expression softening as you looked to the ground.

"I apologize, I was merely... pondering." His tone now took on its usual, eloquent speech. Or at least he tried to keep it that way, like how he'd word a presentation.

"Wondering why humans need to seek... connections... what drives this.. urge. This feeling." He rasped that last bit with spite. He couldn't understand himself, this counterproductive hypocrisy, and oh how he hated it.

This was his indirect attempt of saying 'I'm sorry that I hurt you', having taken notice that his selfishness had actually caused damage to the one person who gave a damn to even look for him. It wasn't good by any stretch, but it was an attempt to mend things up with clarifications. 

"I don't think... you need to know specifically the why of it...we're social creatures, it's, uhm.. normal, to want connections.." you tried to explain, approaching the automaton, reaching to hold his hand.

Were he in his human body, he would've noticeably tensed at the contact.

"Why still bother, when you have been betrayed over, and over again? And the funniest part: there is no prize for it. It has no meaning." He spat, once again void of emotion. He was subtly venting at this point, really, not even trying to hide that he was talking about himself.

In this moment, his complete detachment from humanity matched with his current body.

"Must have some meaning, if our relationship is an indicator of it." You played with his hand, intertwining your fingers.

Even when he had little regard for how you felt, you gave him compassion. You cherish him.

"I don't understand what drives you to it. What compels me." The Doctor's grip tightened around your hand for a moment, frustrated.

Then, he relaxed, his other hand tenderly taking hold of yours. Even though he was machine, it was his gentle handling that reminded one that he was still a man, despite the sharp metal.

"But.. one thing I do know, is that no one gets me... like you do. There is something there... and I intend to study it, why you, and nobody else."

Part of you knew that you both knew what it was.

Perhaps he was in denial of it, or maybe this was another indirect attempt of his, to say 'I love you' in his own way.

[mysticpearl]

I saw you were taking Brant requests, and if that's still going may I ask for something like the captain!reader where Brant is drunk and just accidentally proposes? Also if reader could be male I would love it but if not that's okay too :]

✧.* DRUNKEN BEHAVIORS

BRANT X READER - FLUFF, CRACK

✧ hi anon! this is so funny i love the prompt so much. i’ll make the reader gender neutral because i have no idea to how to write male reader (i’m also like the girliest girl you’ll ever meet so) but the pronouns will be up to your imagination. hope you enjoy :)

✧ gender neutral reader, reader is his partner of a while lol. no warnings rly

YOU AND BRANT HAVE BEEN DATING FOR A WHILE NOW, and you were very used to brant when he’s drunk (spoiler alert - almost every night). you knew how he behaves, but this one was new for you in so many different ways.

you both loved each other very much, that was obvious, but you didn’t really expect that he’d drop to one knee with a gorgeous ring and slur his words trying to tell you about how happy it would make him to be your husband.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

it was any normal night, brant and his crew just finished up a show, and of course, to celebrate the occasion, bottles of liquor were opened and being passed around while you were managing everyone with roccia. the two of you were talking in the background, watching everyone get drunk out of their minds and trying your very hardest to get them to drop the liquor, but that’s not gonna happen anytime soon.

you both just tried to ignore it until brant, his form shakey yet confident, got up on the table and shouted something that nobody could really make out. you and roccia stood close just in case he fell, but what happened was the one thing you weren’t thinking of.

he turned to you, pulling a ring from his pocket and jumping off the table once he got everyone’s attention. he got down on one knee, taking a moment to balance himself before confidently opening the ring box and saying the words “y/n, would you marry me?”

you could tell this was something he’s been planning for a while, considering his confidence in his speech and that he tried his hardest not to slur his words. you could tell it was probably an accident, but he was ready and prepared to pop the question at any point in time now. you nodded, allowing his shaking hands to slide the ring on your finger (the wrong one at first, but roccia corrected him) and he took you into a warm and tight embrace.

although it wasn’t the night you were expecting to have, it was a night you wouldn’t trade for the world. and the funniest part is that brant remembered what he did the next morning and said the speech he truly wanted to say.

[kuuchuuburanko]

Ok so a bit ago I was writing up some headcanons for Gremmjamin here based on some prompts. Some of which were based around things relating physical stats (ie. speed, endurance, stealth, running, jumping, dance, etc.) and I wrote,

Gremmy does not have a true physical form! His body is a construct, a creation of his imagination, as Gremmy is in fact a brain in a jar. And because he can so easily construct any form or physical version of himself as he sees fit, his physical capacity can vary drastically based on that. He could create the peak physical body, perfectly strong, fast, agile, any mix of those attributes to varying degrees. And so, it ranges based on what he desires at the moment. So In the stats such as running, jumping, swimming etc. those are set as a range. But there are limitations as well. You cannot imagine a learned skill. Or at least not to a proficient level. Vague understanding will only get you so far. For example, dancing is a learned skill. An art form, something that takes being taught, practice, study and experience to accomplish. It’s a performance and one cannot simply execute the movements either. It requires flare, emotion, etc. for it to be any good. Now if I were to tell you, for example, ‘imagine doing merengue’ and you had no idea what it was or what it looked like, how could you imagine it? Not well probably. It’s vague, it’s a guess, it’s hardly there. The same applies to Gremmy. One’s imagination can only go so far as your current knowledge. You have to know things to begin with to expand on them. I can know, generally speaking, what ‘dance’ is. As a performance art, as a concept, but if I don’t watch dancing, or learn the basics of it, how it’s constructed, how it goes with music etc. I’d be hard pressed to imagine or do a dance that’s any good, even with my imagination. Gremmy’s imagination only goes as far as that knowledge or lived experiences. And considering he’s been stuck in a box for much of his (sentient) life he hasn’t had much in the way of experiences outside of his head. (This is also why I believe his fight with Kenpachi was so simple. His imagined constructs of water and lava and guns and meteor all feel very simple and plain, especially considering the extent of his ability. In this context, imagination =/= creativity)

I am also drawing my reasoning from the novels (which aren't canon or whatever but I need my crumbs so they are canon TO ME) So...writing up that last headcanon post got me thinking… Gremmy's powers are vastly over-powered, even by bleach standards. A broad stroke of 'anything he imagines becomes reality'. Even his fellow quincy feared and were weary of him. He was considered one of the most powerful in their ranks. (There's even speculation/strong hints giving credence that Gremmy was actually an aspect of the Soul King like Pernida) But, from what was displayed in his battle with Kenpachi, the scope of that imagination seemed limited. Simple like entombed in water, floods of lava, shot into space, meteorite etc. For someone who could theoretically do and/or create anything, his methods remained very simple. Gremmy is obviously capable of creating more complex and intricate figments, seeing as he constructed live, sentient entities. I think that must have taken longer for him though, more thought and time.

In battle it's probably easier to stay simple. But I can't help but think that he was sheltered in a prison away from much social contact for more than the reason of 'he's destructive and volatile'. Imagination is limited by creativity. You can only imagine more vast possibilities if you are creative. And creativity is limited by your environment and current knowledge. If a child grew up in a home of only neutral colors, their thoughts and imagined things would be in only neutral colors. But there are more colors than grey and beige. Yhwach isn't stupid. I think he knew that Gremmy's abilities needed to be locked down at a certain point, so he purposefully sheltered him from the outside world. He made sure Gremmy only knew about grey and beige so he could be limited to only creating grey and beige things. If he knew about the entire color spectrum so to speak, he would have developed into being enormously more powerful than he was.

He's also still a kid. He's basically the gifted kid in class who stopped doing the assignments because they were too easy and he got bored. In the novels he wasn't entirely anti-social. He got along fine with Liltotto and even had a nice conversation with her when he was released from his prison. He doesn't like Yhwach and nobody treats him as a person or without fear/disdain except for Liltotto and so he felt grateful to her for that. So he's this kid with these nearly godlike abilities, and from his perspective he can do anything but that 'anything' is also not the whole picture either. He only started feeling true joy, excitement etc. when he was challenged in the battle with kenpachi, because suddenly life wasn't boring, dull and lonely. Suddenly, the world opens up to him, suddenly things are new and there's an infinite amount of possibilities. He beefs it of course, but I still think that he was basically nerfed by Yhwach so he couldn't find things like say... art, literature, cinema, anything in the human world for that matter lmao. Maybe if he had more shit to do, things to learn, time to experiment he wouldn't have been nearly as homicidal because now there's interest in life and challenges to be had.

I also think that if he were to have most of his powers stripped and was forced to build back up said power (like... say, if there was a little splat of his grey matter somewhere after his brain jar was collected and inevitably experimented on, that the little splat was able to grow and grow and grow and eventually grow enough that it could escape and hide to grow more and eventually he can materialize his body again so he decides to just chill on earth for a bit), he'd have to use what little power he has to be more detail oriented and creative with what he's able to 'imagine'. He'd just have a much better time if not everything was literally at his fingertips. Let him play minecraft and learn organically. But that's an au post for another time lol